Comes a Slytherin

5. Under the Color of Authority

"I say he's a Gryffindor. That nobility streak of his is so wide that it completely engulfs Ron's, Hermione and mine by a kilometer."

Snape considered it. "Hufflepuff. The man's a walking emotional time bomb. Just the slightest provocation will set him off. I mean, look at him now." Snape pointed to where Duncan was pummeling a defenseless punching bag.

"True, but he actually confronted Methos about him ‘sleeping’ with Lucius Malfoy. That not only takes bollocks, but a healthy sense of Gryffindor blindness. Even I knew that Methos would never sleep with him and I've only known him for a few weeks.

"And how do you know this, Mr. Potter?"

"It's Lucius Malfoy," Harry explained in a way that said that should explain it all. "He may be attractive, but he's still a git."

Snape snorted. "You are a Gryffindor. Malfoy could seduce anyone he wants. By the time you've realized what's happened, it's naturally already too late."

"But Methos is Slytherin. You can't out Slytherin the person himself. Especially when said person is at least a thousand years old."

Snape considered. "You may have a point. Although why you'd want to claim him a Housemate of yours still eludes me."

Duncan turned to face them, exasperation written all over his face. "If you two are going are going to stand there and insult me, could you at least do it out of my hearing?"

Harry suddenly felt guilty, and it didn't slip by Snape either. "Of course, Duncan. I've got other ways to occupy Mr. Potter while you practice."

"But I'm supposed to practice my magic now, and I've got an exam in History of Magic to study for tonight," Harry protested.

"Very well then, I'll supervise you while you work. I'm familiar with the spells that Methos has been teaching you."

Harry gave Duncan a pleading looking for help. Duncan, who had gone back to his own work out, didn’t notice.

"Oh, all right," Harry muttered.

"It's nice to see you so enthusiastic, Potter."

Harry scowled.

Snape laughed.

Gryffindor baiting would always be fun.

* * *
Dumbledore quickly learned that sneaking up on Methos with a sword was a bad idea; of course, it was hard to do much of anything with a sharp blade cutting into your neck.

"I wouldn't move for your wand either, Dumbledore, not until you tell me why you decided to creep up behind me."

"I merely wanted to observe, Mr. Methos. I promise I won't do anything rash."

Methos let down his Ivanhoe. "In other circumstances, moves like that could get you killed."

"You wouldn't kill me," Dumbledore said confidently.

Methos swung his sword up so it rested on his shoulder blade. "That's a dangerous assumption to make."

"But it is mine to make."

Methos circled the elderly wizard. "True. But I'm sure you made this visit for a reason, so why not get down to it?"

"Mr. MacLeod made a visit to me not too long ago."

Methos snorted. "Did he? Why am I not surprised?"

"So you do have information then?"

He began to circle Dumbledore. "Perhaps I do. Perhaps I said that just to get his goat. It certainly seemed to work."

"If you do, I would advise that you share it." His glare was as steady as Methos', unwilling to blink, unwilling to yield.

"Or what? You'll sic the Aurors on me?"

"Perhaps."

"You do realize that if you try that, MacLeod, Harry and I will be gone before they even get here."

Dumbledore stiffened. "That would be kidnapping."

"Perhaps, but it's in the boy's best interest. I refuse to leave him here. You can't teach him anything else. Not sword work, not spell work. A piece of paper that says he passed his N.E.W.T.s is hardly going to keep his head on his shoulders, nor will it defeat Voldemort. And that is what this is all about, isn't it? The defeat of Voldemort?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"Have you ever read Machiavelli?"

"No, I haven't."

"Italian political philosopher. The ends justify the means. Bribe, threaten, kill your competitors—it's all fair game as long as you get what you aimed for. In his case, it was becoming the ruler of a territory. In our case, it's the demise of Voldemort."

"But people shouldn't die if they don't have to."

Methos shrugged. "Perhaps not. But who cares what we'd do. It's all about Harry, isn't it? You've done an admirable job of bending himself to your will. But don't worry. I'll break through all those idiotic Gryffindor tendencies of yours. He's becoming quite the good little Slytherin, isn't he?"

Dumbledore stiffened slightly. "I'm sure that Mr. Potter will continue to do me—do the wizarding world proud, in both his behavior and his victories."

"Well that's grand. Is there anything else?"

Dumbledore slowly shook his head and started to head for the door. Just as he reached the hallway, he turned and said, "Seeing as I cannot make you do anything you do not wish to, I just hope that you make the right decisions, Mr. Pierson. Good day."

Methos watched the Headmaster leave, then shook his head. Gryffindors. Some things never changed, even after a thousand years. Only a shame he couldn't be quite so direct with Dumbledore, as he had once been with Gryffindor…

* * *
1013 CE

An adder slithered around Slytherin's feet; he'd been practicing with them recently, partially to keep his skills up, a little because it frightened others.

"I'm telling you, Godric, enough is enough! For thirty years I have put up with batch after batch of useless Muggle-borns. Every year it's the exact same thing. Students afraid of their wands, of the stairs that move, of their classmates! It's a wonder we haven't had one die of fright on the first night!"

"That still does not give you an excuse to bully them, Salazar!"

"Who said I was bullying them?" He bent down and picked up the snake. He muttered something to the snake.

"Your pet terrifies them! It's unnatural."

"Oh please, Godric. Not this tired argument again. Never once have any of my pets done a lick of harm to anyone. I can't help if people are scared when they see me conversing with her. And it's hardly unnatural either and we both know it. Dare I say that you're jealous you're not as gifted?"

Gryffindor scowled. "Of course I'm not! Who'd want to be able to talk to snakes? Rather useless gift if you ask me. And we both know that you choose to use your gift when the more…impressionable students are around."

"Really, Godric, you're getting paranoid in your old age! You know I'd never hurt the children."

Godric snorted. "I'm not that much older then you are. Some of those Charms you teach are rather questionable.

Slytherin snickered. If only he knew. "The Charms I teach are perfectly legal, and useful as well."

"But they injure the students if they aren't performed correctly!"

"Think of as an incentive to perform well." The smirk on Slytherin's face was growing more dangerous by the second.

Godric stiffened and looked Slytherin straight in the eye. "I can't abide this in my school, Slytherin. Either you stop speaking Parseltongue in front of the students, and stop teaching the dangerous Charms, or else I'll be forced to make you leave Hogwarts."

Slytherin laughed menacingly. "Your school? Is that right? Do you really think you can bully me around like some new Hufflepuff?" Slytherin's eyes narrowed. Although he had considered moving on, it wasn't going to happen merely because Gryffindor wished it so.

Sensing danger, Gryffindor reached for his own wand, but found it flying to the edge of the room as Slytherin's Expelliarmus hit him full on. Seconds later, he found himself on the floor unable to move, paralyzed by a spell he'd never heard of. He moaned as his body convulsed in agony, leaving him panting on the floor.

"Never threaten me, Gryffindor. You cannot hope to win. I will continue to do what I wish, and if you're wise you'll let me do so." He sneered as Gryffindor went into another round of spasms. "The spell will wear off in an hour or so," Slytherin said conversationally. “Don't worry; I'll cover your class for you. Oh, and I'll be sure to lock the door. Wouldn't want anyone finding you, would we?" With a laugh, Slytherin left the room, locking it and cast a quick Silencing charm so no one could hear Gryffindor's moans.

Gryffindor never did threaten him again.

* * *
1998 CE

Harry found Professor McGonagall waiting for him at the base of the gargoyle statue. In a stern voice she said, "Go right on up, Harry, and when you get back, we need to talk."

He smiled weakly. "Thanks." As he'd gotten older, he'd found these meetings harder and harder to handle. Rarely did they have good news, and it had become quite apparent that Methos and Dumbledore didn't get along. He hoped that whatever had last happened between the two men hadn't been so bad that Dumbledore was going to send his teacher away.

"Hello, Harry. Gum drop?" Dumbledore had taken to making himself a miniature sculpture of Fawkes made completely of the confection. It was interesting to look at, but Harry couldn't be quite sure just how old the leftover sweets were.

"No, thank you sir. Is everything all right?"

"I just wanted to check up on how you were doing. How are things going in Gryffindor?"

"There not bad, but not great either. They blame me for the loss to Slytherin." The game yesterday had been brutal, between the lack of practice time and the general demoralization of losing their Captain, Draco had been able to catch the Snitch rather quickly, resulting in an 180-20 loss, the worst defeat in years.

"I'm sure they'll come around, Harry. They never seem to stay angry at you for long."

Harry snorted to himself. The affair over his being a possible Heir of Slytherin lasted months. He wondered what Dumbledore considered to be "long." He forced a smile. "I'm sure you're right, sir."

"And how are your extra studies going?"

"Quite well, sir. Learning to fight is hard, but Duncan makes it manageable. Only yesterday he told me how pleased he was with my progress." He smiled happily. Training with Duncan was very difficult and left him rather sore afterwards, but the constant praise and reassuring that he was doing well for someone with so little experience.

"And with Adam?"

"Excellent, sir. Egyptian is hard to learn, but I find it rather fascinating."

"You are learning to control the magics better then?"

He nodded. "It's difficult…and it seems that right now I fail more often then not, but I'm determined to learn, sir. Voldemort won't stand a chance if I can learn this stuff."

Dumbledore nodded politely. "Quite. Listen, Harry, I've been in contact with Sirius."

Harry perked up. "You have? Is he all right? He's safe isn't he? Is there any chance that he'll be coming to visit?"

He looked sympathetically at the boy. "Don’t worry, Harry! Your godfather is quite safe and in one piece. As for coming for a visit…I'm afraid not. Adam said he didn't want you to be distracted."

Harry's elation quickly turned into confusion. "But…" the words died out on his lips. He didn't think that flat out calling Dumbledore a liar would be a healthy move.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

"Thanks…is that all sir?"

Dumbledore nodded. "I won't keep you any longer. Minerva would like to speak to you. Remember Harry, that I'm here anytime you wish to talk."

Harry nodded and headed out to the staircase. Had Methos been right about Dumbledore all along? It was a troubling thought.

* * *

McGonagall was waiting for him at the bottom of the staircase. "Come with me, Potter," she ordered in that clipped tone that never seemed to bode well for anyone.

She lead him to her office near Gryffindor tower, never looking back, never saying a word to him the entire walk. He distinctly felt like he was being marched to his doom.

As soon as they were in her office, he quickly took a chair upon her command.

"Did you see that Quidditch match, Potter? It was a disgrace!"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"One that could have been prevented."

Harry groaned at the thought of yet another lecture about the Draco Incident. "Yes Ma'am."

She shook her head. "If it weren't for those tutors of yours, I'd say that you'd still be out on the pitch and we would have won."

"You're probably right, Ma'am." Why mention that he probably would have attacked Draco sooner or later? If he hadn't used one of the spells Methos had taught him, he would have used something else.

"I don't like how they seem to be influencing you, Potter. First that incident with Draco, and now your grades are slipping."

"Not really, Ma'am. I mean, I've never been excellent at Transfigurations, and obviously this is the hardest they've ever been. Adam helps me with my Charms homework and just the other day Professor Flitwick said he was impressed at how much I'd improved. Even my Potions marks are going up because Snape tutors me when Duncan and Adam get tied up."

Her eyes narrowed a bit. "While I can't be sure why Severus suddenly has taken such an interest in you. I'll warn you Mr. Potter, you'd better bring your Transfiguration marks up. If you don't, there's a risk that you'll fail your Transfiguration N.E.W.T"

Harry became utterly confused. "But Professor, my grades aren't even that bad!"

"Potter, your grade means nothing to the examiner. If they don't think that your essay is acceptable for your age than you will not pass. The better you do now, the greater the chance that you will produce something acceptable when the time comes."

"I'll try and do better, Professor," he said dejectedly.

"Excellent. Run along. Remember, you owe me an essay in two days. I expect it to be perfect."

He stood up and woodenly said, "Yes, Ma'am," before leaving her office.

* * *

"—And then Dumbledore told me that Sirius couldn't come for a visit because Adam wouldn't let him."

Ron seemed particularly outraged, still not a fan of Adam over the "Mudblood" incident—one that was never fully resolved to his liking. "I can't believe that git! He should know how important Sirius is to you, Harry!"

"But Adam wants me to see Sirius, guys. He wouldn't do such a thing, I just know it!"

"But why would Dumbledore lie to you, Harry?" It had to be Granger. "He's been nothing but helpful to you since your first year."

"Believe me, Hermione, I'm trying to figure that out for myself."

They started to move down the hallway towards the Gryffindor common room, when Harry felt the buzz of another Immortal. Although he suspected it to be Methos, the fact that whoever it was hadn't revealed himself gave Harry room to wonder.

"Wait here a moment."

"Harry?" asked Ron.

Harry walked to where the two corridors met, pulling out his still invisible sword on the way. He knew it must have looked odd that he held his hands out in front of him, but he didn't care. He knew that an unfriendly Immortal wouldn't give him time to reach for his sword. When he saw Methos standing just beyond the junction of the two corridors, he relaxed and put his sword back. He started to say something, but Methos put a finger on his own lip indicating that Harry should be silent. Puzzled, Harry nonetheless obeyed the strange command and returned to his friends.

"It was nothing. Must have heard something."

Hermione asked rather good-naturedly, "It's not another Basilisk in the pipes, Harry?"

Harry rolled his eyes and kept them moving.

* * *
Methos listened to Harry leave before turning around himself. As he listened to Harry, he couldn't believe what he was hearing—he never expected such an obvious manipulation attempt from Dumbledore.

He had over-estimated the elder wizard.

Pleased though he was that Harry was showing such care for his person, he was still too angry to care.

Methos smiled. He knew exactly what he needed to do.

* * *
A day later, Snape dropped into the classroom while the Immortals were taking a break.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen, Potter."

Harry barely nodded in Snape's direction.

"What's wrong?"

Duncan looked at Severus a little surprised. "You haven't heard? McGonagall is threatening that the N.E.W.T. examiner won't find Harry's essay 'acceptable,' whatever that means."

Snape frowned ever so slightly. He'd seen Potter's marks only a few weeks ago at the end of term review meetings. They were far from failing, and indicated that he should be able to write more than well enough to pass with decent marks "Why?"

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, sir. She just threatened m. I mean, she can't do that, can she?"

"It is very suspicious indeed; I can never remember a time when Minerva stooped so low. If you like, I can discreetly inquire as to what's going on."

Harry looked at Snape, concerned. Why was he willing to stand up for him? He didn't think that they disliked each other that much. He finally managed a surprised, "No, thank you sir, I'm in enough trouble as it is with her as it is. Somehow, I don't think you talking to her is going to help anything."

Snape growled slightly, the stupid boy never knew what was best for him. "Then what would you like to see happen? There are many things you deserve Potter, but failing a class when there is no need for it is not one of them."

"Perhaps you could tutor him, Severus?" asked Methos.

"And what would I get as compensation for such selfless donation of my time, considering I already tutor him in Potions, not to mention the fact that I would have to refresh myself on the topics that will be covered on the N.E.W.T.S?"

"My thanks?" Harry offered.

Snape snorted. "I've got enough of those in the past few weeks to fulfill me for a few years."

Harry fiddled around in his robes, muttering, "I'm sure I've got a Galleon or two in here somewhere…"

Snape hissed, "You impudent brat!"

As Harry and Snape began to quarrel again, Duncan leaned over to Methos. "Do you know any lust potions? This is getting ridiculous."

Methos snorted. "I almost had to resort to one just to get your attention. You were the King of Dense, MacLeod."

"Hey!" Duncan protested.

Methos snickered, and replied just a little too loudly, "Would they just kiss already? I don't particularly feel like spending the next century watching them figure out what's going on."

Both Harry and Snape managed to glare at Methos at the exact same time.

"I heard that." Harry wrinkled his nose. "And might I add, ew. I'd never kiss him."

"Rest assured, Mr. Potter, the feeling is mutual," Snape replied with the scathing tone normally reserved for Neville after he'd botched another potion.

Methos stood and walked towards the two young men. "Children, children! No need for such animosity."

"I am not a child!" hissed Snape.

Methos and Duncan shared a look and snickered. "When you're as old as we are, 35 is nothing."

"Hrmph." Snape turned away.

"Oh stop sulking, the both of you. Severus, you'll help out Harry, because you know it will make Minerva mad that you got his Transfiguration grade up."

Snape curled his lip slightly.

"But I don't want Professor McGonagall to know!" Harry protested.

"What difference does it make, kid? She's got it out for you. You may as well prove to her that you can do it. There's nothing sweeter then unexpected triumph."

Harry looked at Duncan. "I really don't have a choice in this, do I?"

Duncan shrugged apologetically. "You'll get used to it. He loves to meddle."

"And if it weren't for that meddling, your head would have separated from your body years ago."

Duncan tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement. "Perhaps."

"It's settled then." Snape grinned, baring teeth. "I'll tutor the boy and get to make Minerva have an aneurysm. Not a bad trade-off, if I do say so myself. Now get back to work, Potter. I expect you in the dungeons after dinner tonight for tutoring. Bring your Transfiguration work as well."

Harry sighed. "Yes, sir."

* * *
The next two weeks passed quickly. His housemates did manage to calm down as work loads piled up as revision for N.E.W.T.s started in earnest on top of their normal class loads.

Even Duncan and Methos had started to work Harry harder. Now that Duncan was convinced that Harry was well on the road to being able to fight and survive, he'd started to teach Harry a bit of martial arts. Trying to convince Duncan that Harry wouldn't ever really to know how to fight since he had his magic only resulted in an evil glare and a rather sore bum by the end of the first lesson.

Methos had started giving him more research, insisting that he taught Harry all that he could with what knowledge Harry had, and that any more spells would require a through understanding of some rather obscure principles of magic that not even Snape could decipher.

In fact, it was with a rather terrible headache from trying to decipher hieroglyphs that Methos found him.

"Hey Harry! Come with me, would you? I'm in a bit of a rush, but I've got a surprise for you."

"Can it possibly wait?" Harry asked as Methos grabbed his arm.

"Nope. 'Fraid not. But I promise that you'll enjoy it. Now come on!" Methos grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him towards their practice room.

"Why is it you're in such a hurry?" Harry queried.

"I'm about to be late for lunch with Lucius. Your surprise arrived a bit later then expected."

"Lucius?"

"Well, got to keep up appearances and all. Pretend I'm still interested in Voldemort; perhaps find something that could likely fail anyone to pass on to Dumbledore if I'm feeling generous, and so on. Besides, he buys me beer."

Methos could walk rather fast under the right incentive and the duo quickly arrived at the practice room.

"Due to the nature of your gift, I'm going to lock you inside with it until I return. That might be in two hours, it might not be until midnight. I'm sure you won't mind. I've left you some food. Really must dash." He opened the door, and pushed Harry inside. "Have fun you two. Bye!" Methos shut the door and spell-locked it from the outside.

Harry stared at the door. "Very, very weird."

"You're telling me."

Harry jumped at the oddly familiar voice. He hadn't expected the surprise to be an actual person. Turning around his face lit up, "Sirius!"

Sirius walked up to his godson and embraced him tightly. "It's good to see you again, Harry. You're looking well."

Harry smiled brightly back. "I've missed you!" He looked Sirius over. Over the past year or two he had really started to fill out, and finally started to look really healthy. Harry also noticed a glimmer in his eyes that he hadn't really seen before. He seemed happy. "You look great!"

"I feel great. Especially now that I'm here."

"Prepare to be here for a while. Adam's gone to get drunk with a friend. He's even locked us in."

Sirius grinned. "Well then, all the more time to spend with my godson. I can't really complain about it."

"You say that now, but what if you have to go the bathroom and we're still locked inside?"

"I'm sure you'll find a suitable way to get vengeance on your teacher; with all the Marauder blood in you, I know you can do it."

Harry laughed. "Thanks." His smile dimmed slightly. "What are you doing here? Dumbledore said that Adam didn't want you here?"

Sirius frowned. "What are you talking about Harry? Dumbledore never said anything about you wanting to see me. Last time we talked it was after my last mission a month ago."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Why would I lie to you Harry?" Sirius said gently. "Dumbledore hasn't contacted me in quite a while. Then, about a week ago, I get a letter from Adam saying that you wished to see me. I had Remus do some asking around to see if Adam was who he said he was, and when he told me it was the truth I said yes, and here I am."

Harry looked thoughtful, now wasn't really the time to dwell on Dumbledore, so he asked the next logical question. "How is he anyway?" Remus had a cottage in a fairly isolated Muggle village; Sirius had gone there to hide a little after Harry’s seventh year started.

"He's doing well, Harry. It's peaceful there. He enjoys it. He's opened a Muggle-style apothecary. Herbology is starting to take off among Muggles and he's making a decent profit."

Harry looked surprised. "Herbs? Huh. Well, I guess he can't really sell lessons in how to stop Boggarts, can he?" He grinned as he remembered the image of Snape in a dress.

Sirius smiled. "Unfortunately, no. Snape still brews the potion for him, but he's started to work on his potions again. He knows he doesn't have much talent for it, but he hopes to one day be good enough that he can brew Wolfsbane on his own, so he doesn't have to be dependant on Snape.""

Harry snickered, and then told of Adam's suggestion about how he should kiss Snape, and Sirius made appropriate noises of disgust, suggesting that his teacher might have been a bit off his rocker. Harry assured him that his teacher was quite sane, and they talked the afternoon away until they heard the door unlock.

"I hope you didn't talk too much about me behind my back," Adam quipped as Harry stood to great him.

"Just a little," Harry grinned.

"Not bad at all then. Ready to go, Sirius?"

He gave Harry one last hug. "Yeah, I think so. You'd better write me soon, Harry."

"I will. Promise."

Methos walked to the door. "Stay here, Harry. I'm going to take him back out the way I brought him in, and I'd like it if at least one of the secret passages actually stayed that way," he teased.

"I resent that!"

"You poor thing," Methos mocked. He watched Sirius change forms, and then cast a temporary blindness spell so he couldn't find the passage either. "I'll be back in a few."

Methos lead the dog out, carefully guiding it down the hallway through the passage until they were a safe distance from the castle. Removing the spell, Sirius transformed back to an adult.

"Thank you for bringing me to see my godson," Sirius said as he shook Methos' hand.

"It's not a problem. Harry should see his family. He does deserve it, just like anyone else."

"Take care of Harry, I'd like to see him outlive me."

Methos nodded. "I'll do my best." Leaving the Animagus behind, Methos returned to the castle, weaving his way through the passages much quicker then before, now that he didn't have to guide anyone through. He found Harry practicing his sword work, and nodded in appreciation.

"Not bad. Now," Methos drew his Ivanhoe. "Fight me."

Harry lasted longer then Methos had expected him to, and had even gotten a good cut in on his arm. It looked like Harry had gotten the upper hand, when Methos ducked out the way, pulled out his wand and hexed Harry.

Placing the blade up against an immobile Harry's neck, Methos stated, "I win."

Harry sulked as the curse was removed. "That's cheating!"

Methos shook his head. "You only complain of that because you didn't think of it sooner."

Harry conceded that Methos had a point. "It's still not fair though."

"And when have I ever played fair?"

Harry frowned.

Methos laughed. "I thought so. Now why don't you go run along? I'm sure your friends have been desperately searching for you."

Harry groaned. "I was supposed to go to Hogsmeade with Ron to check out Fred and George's new jokes."

"Just make sure to keep an eye on anything any Weasley gives you then."

Harry grinned. "Tell me about it. See you later, Adam." He left the room to find his friends, and Methos to spend the rest of the night with Duncan, making up for his lunch with Lucius.

* * *
Methos twiddled in the hall, waiting for Duncan to open the door for him.

"Back so soon?" Duncan asked as he let Methos into his room. "I expected you later."

"I got bored, so I made up an excuse and left." Methos commented, removing his robe and throwing it over the back of the desk chair. "Really, you have no idea just how boring pureblood politics can be. Or the Ministry for that matter. At least back in Rome they did fun things in the government, like assassinations."

"Methos. You weren't *in* Rome when Julius Caesar died."

"So? I'm just saying that hearing about that is more interesting then the latest investigation into the latest scandals involving cauldron thickness. Come to think of it, he's rather bored of it as well, judging from his latest scheme to drive Percy Weasley slowly insane."

Duncan raised an eyebrow.

Methos smirked "Who do you think keeps sending him the defective cauldrons?"

Duncan snorted.

Methos slid onto Duncan's lap. "So definitely don't have to worry. I'm yours." He kissed Duncan softly. "Trust me, okay? I'm not going to join the Dark Side of the Force or become the next Voldemort. I'm just doing this for the greater good."

"Methos. The greater good would be telling Dumbledore what Voldemort's planning so innocents don't have to die."

Methos rolled his eyes and moved off his partner. "Not you too. Look. If I tell Dumbledore, he tells the Aurors. The Aurors show up, wreck the party. Voldemort looks for what went wrong, and sooner or later he figures out that Lucius was involved. Once that happens, there will be a very dead Lucius on our hands and we lose access to Voldemort, and quite possibly the Grand Plan of his for his annual Hell raising."

"Aren't you overreacting? I'm sure Dumbledore has other means of gaining information about Voldemort."

"But none so highly placed. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. By trusting Lucius to important plans and making him responsible for successfully carrying them out means that he's got less time to work on his own plans. On the other hand, you take another spy who is still valued, but whose loyalty is questioned. He might know bits and pieces, but how much of that is being deliberately hand fed to Dumbledore, we'll never know. Some of it may be one hundred percent true. Some of it smoke and mirrors to cover up a more important operation going on that cannot be interfered with."

Duncan sighed. "Okay. Fine. Fine. You're not going to share, and I'm obviously not going to win this argument."

Methos grinned and shook his head. "No, you're not. That hasn't stopped you from trying it at least three times before."

"Can you blame me for trying?"

Methos shook his head. "I'd be worried if you didn't." He smirked. "You know, Severus and Harry have a bet going on what House you'd be in."

"Do they now? What are they saying?"

Methos draped himself into the chair opposite Duncan. "Let's see. They agree that you're not 'intellectual' enough to be in Ravenclaw, and that you show absolutely none of the features that make a good Slytherin. I happen to agree with both."

"Hey! I object!"

"It's true though."

Duncan glared, and Methos raised his hands in surrender. "At any rate, Severus thinks you'd be a perfect Hufflepuff. Loyal to the end, makes lots of friends, and a bit of a gossip. You are rather up to date on Immortal activity."

"I have to be." Duncan muttered.

"Of course." Methos nodded. "Harry argues—and I agree—that you'd actually be a Gryffindor. You've got the bravery to the point of stupidity, charging into situations that could likely end up with you being dead. You are quite heroic though, and many of us wouldn't have our heads without you though." He stood up and walked over to Duncan. "No matter what you are though, you are one of a kind, Highlander, and you are mine." He kissed Duncan. "And I am yours, and don't you forget it."

Duncan smiled. "I'll try not to."

"Good boy." He smiled wickedly and leaned over to whisper in Duncan's ear. "Come with me to the bedroom. I learned something the other day that I just have to show you."

Duncan rose and let himself be dragged off. "I may not be a Ravenclaw, but let it not be said that I'm not open to new information."

Methos laughed. "Good, because you're not going to regret it."