The Open Door

The Open Door

Chapter 2

The Doppelganger

"Those who have died have been born again in me. My population is too large, beyond the strength of just one man. But then, a person would be incomplete if he contained no others."

Gabriel's first thought upon entering the Slytherin dungeons was that it was frigid. The long walk up to Hogwarts through the tree-lined dirt road had made him a little sweaty and the change in temperature was uncomfortable. The damp hair at the base of his neck chilled him.

He sat alone in his new dormitory. All of his roommates had left for the common room after their Head of House had made the introductions. They were probably telling the others that the new French boy had just arrived and that Professor Snape had threatened to give them detention for the year if they didn't treat him well. Gabriel sighed, looking at his now enlarged luggage. He would have very much appreciated if Hogwarts had private rooms. After all, the castle looked large enough to provide each student with their own living quarters. But he knew that such a demand, to either Professor Snape or the Headmaster, would surely make him look like a spoiled little rich boy. It wasn't that he thought he was better than the others; it was just that he'd always had trouble getting along with people his age. He'd always felt more at ease with adults.

He looked around the room, taking in the other beds and the dark tiled floor and the heavy drapes. He could hear laughter coming from the common room and he sighed again. He was in a new place, yet this situation felt very familiar. And he thought maybe he was just meant to live his whole life that way: lonely and cold, and hiding from the people he was supposed to feel at home with. Slowly, he stood and put his possessions away in the chest at the foot of his bed. The inside was magically enlarged into compartments to hold books and clothes and many other things. When he was done, he closed his empty suitcases and slid them underneath the bed.

He stopped to look at a picture frame he'd wrapped into a sweater. His own face smiled up at him, but his gaze met Valère Henri's shining eyes and he let out a single choked sob. The picture had been taken two years before and even when Gabriel looked considerably younger in the photograph, Valère looked just like he did when he'd last seen him. Gabriel eyed the familiar face, the short white hair and the carefully trimmed beard. He moved to set the frame on his bedside table, but stopped. He didn't know how the dormitories worked in Hogwarts, but if it was anything like what he'd known before, leaving personal effects in plain view was the best way never to see them again. He opened the large chest and tucked the picture back into the same sweater before closing it again and locking it with a spell.

It wasn't until he started taking his clothes off that he realized just how tired he was. He changed into an old t-shirt and stripped to his boxers, trying to calm the shaking of his hands. Then he slipped right into bed and closed the heavy drapes around him. The noises from outside the dormitory muffled considerably. He brought the blankets closer around his shivering body and forced his eyes closed, trying to clear his mind. He kept repeating to himself, like a mantra, that everything would be fine, that there was no need to be scared, that Hogwarts was a good place and that Dumbledore had been the best option out there. He kept repeating those words until, finally, without noticing, he drifted off into sleep.

After his parents' death, little Gabriel used to grab a thick blanket from the linen closet, stretch it over the large bathtub in the master bedroom, and hide underneath it for hours. That place became his refuge whenever he felt scared of alone. He found comfort in the quiet darkness and there was this echo in the room that responded to the smallest of noises. That way he knew that whatever crept into his safe haven, he would hear it coming. Later, in the days following Valère's death, he had found himself cramped into that same place, while waiting for his fate to be decided. He had never felt that angry and helpless before in his entire life, not even when he watched his parents being ripped to pieces before his very eyes. Because this time he knew how truly alone he was. Valère had been the only one left to protect him, and without him Gabriel would be at the mercy of anything that came his way.

He dreamt of Valère that night. It was the first time he'd seen the man in his dreams, but Gabriel had been expecting it since he'd died.

He dreamt that he was having breakfast with the old man in that small café near the Observatory. In the last four years, they must have visited that place at least once a week in the summer. They would stay up late, working all night on Valère's research, and in the morning they would have breakfast and then they would go back home and sleep for most of the day. Gabriel wasn't surprised that the dream would take place there. They had shared many good memories in that place; it was understandable that Valère would want to choose that location.

The dream was quiet and sunny. The café was empty; they were the only customers there and there wasn't a waiter in view. Even outside on the terrace the chairs and tables were vacant. There wasn't one single pedestrian in the streets. But once again, Gabriel wasn't surprised. He knew they were alone in this world.

For a few seconds Gabriel was blinded by the light that reflected on the silver knife in Valère's hand. With agile fingers, the man was browsing through the variety of jam packets on the table, a fresh slice of bread ready on his plate. His own plate was filled with bread and fresh fruit, but Gabriel made no move to touch it. Now and then Valère would look up and spare a glance at his adopted son, who held his gaze.

"Stop looking at me like that, Gabriel. You'll make me self-conscious," the man joked and small laugh lines appeared at the corners of his eyes. The sight made Gabriel's heart clench tightly in his chest.

"Why are you doing this to me? Why do you have to haunt me in my dreams? If you want to be gone, just stay gone," Gabriel managed to say, looking at the man with something close to disgust.

Valère frowned distractedly as he picked a package of strawberry jam from the pile. "What are you saying? Who's in a dream?"

"I am!" Gabriel groaned irritably at the man. "I am sleeping. And worst of all, I'm dreaming about you."

"Stop your fussing and eat your breakfast. You'll sleep when we go home," Valère said, trying to sound angry but he was still smiling.

It was a little while for Gabriel to realize that he was dreaming in English and he almost groaned in defeat at how quickly he'd been assimilated. The strangest thing was that he'd never really heard Valère speak English before so he didn't know how the man would sound if he did. He himself had learned the language from one of his private tutors. The voice that came from Valère was his own but it had something foreign to it. The old man looked up and noticed Gabriel staring again and he winked, while spreading the jam across his bread. The face was the same, but it wasn't Valère Henri's eyes that were watching him from behind the stylish glasses.

"You're not Valère," he let out softly, almost in defeat. "I know you're not him."

"You say the stupidest things, Gabriel," he said, biting into his bread and laughing.

"Where is Valère?" Gabriel insisted, his eyes never leaving the doppelganger of his adoptive father.

The old man stopped laughing and his face became serious. Slowly, he put down his slice of bread and pushed his plate to the side. He rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward, looking into Gabriel's face. "You will never see Valère Henri again, even with this strange... ability that you have."

The face that was staring back at him made something crawl inside Gabriel's chest and want to hide there. There was a depth in the old man's eyes that couldn't belong to anything living or anything good. It was something of pure evil and it seemed even more terrible in the pleasant setting of the café. Gabriel felt violated, not only inside his mind, but also in his memories.

Ever since his parents died, Gabriel had had those dreams which were not really dreams. He would meet people who had died and learn things from them that he couldn't have known any other way. Valère had supposed that watching his parents die so tragically had triggered something inside of him, and Gabriel had wanted to research this possibility further. He'd read that this kind of unusual power was common amongst Pureblood families - it resulted from the intense magic concentration caused by inbreeding in the bloodline. There had been necromancers and seers and elementals in the past, but now it was fairly scarce. Nowadays, in the most common cases, the affected wizard would just be born a Squib - the concentrated magic unexplainably cancelling itself. It was the most horrible thing that could happen to a Pureblood family and many organisms used it to promote intermarriages between Muggles and Wizards.

Digging further, Gabriel had found traces of seers in the Lenoir ancestry, some of them very adept at the art, but he didn't consider himself a seer since he couldn't predict the future, and he didn't consider himself a necromancer either, because he didn't have the power to summon or raise spirits - not that he knew of. He had tried to think of someone in particular that he would want to talk to before going to sleep, but it had never worked. Spirits seemed to find him randomly. It was the one thing that hurt him the most, he'd never been able to see or talk to his parents. But there was a feeling deep inside him, one he'd never had the confirmation of, but it was there. His deepest fear was that, after they were tortured and killed, maybe there just wasn't enough left of them for their souls to exist.

"How did you get into my dream?" Gabriel asked, but he was already dreading the answer. He tried to concentrate on waking up, his muscles clenched and his breathing deepened. He shut his eyes tightly for a moment and when he opened them again, the man's eyes were darker and the sides of his mouth seemed to be turning black.

"This is only party your dream. You don't have any control here, boy."

"That's not possible..." Gabriel whispered, shaking his head and leaning into the back of his chair, as far away from that thing as he could.

The thing laughed again and Gabriel felt its breath from across the table. It smelled of decay, dry and dusty, like the inside of a tomb. "If this was your own dream, would you feel this?"

And before he had time to react, the doppelganger had grabbed the silver knife from the table and violently stabbed it into Gabriel's hand. The movement was so strong that he felt his bones break upon the impact and the muscles tore and the knife planted itself into the table underneath, cracking the glass surface.

Gabriel had time to see the blood pool around his wounded hand before his eyes shot open and he sat up in bed. The scream that had been forming in his throat came out in a painful gasp. His hair was sticking to his forehead and the back of his t-shirt felt hot and wet, and yet chills were running on his skin. He looked at his right hand. It was perfectly intact, but it was shaking and it still seemed to hurt somehow.

Trembling, he climbed out of bed. He had no idea what time it was. He'd forgotten to take his watch out of his blazer pocket and it was now put away with the rest of his things. It looked like the middle of the night; most of the curtains on the other beds were pulled closed and he could hear soft noises coming from the opposite side of the room.

"Hey, are you alright?" The voice came in a whisper but still managed to startle him. Gabriel turned to the bed next to his. The curtains were half-opened and Killian Burke was staring at him with sleepy eyes. "I heard you mumbling in your sleep."

"It was just a nightmare, that's all," Gabriel said quietly, more to convince himself that to explain.

The boy attempted a comforting smile. His voice was groggy with sleep as he spoke. "Don't worry your heard too much, mate. Hogwarts isn't that bad. Besides, we Slytherins stick together. Nobody will bother you here; we'll make sure of it."

Gabriel simply nodded and quietly made his way over to the lavatory. The tiled floor was icy cold under his bare feet, but it cleared his head. Before he pushed open the door, he looked back to check if Burke was still staring at him, but all he could see where his face had been were slightly billowing curtains.

Torches lit up on the walls as soon as he stepped inside the shared washroom. It was bigger than he thought it would be at first. The wall before him was lined with ivory sinks with shining faucets. On one side he saw toilet stalls and on the other a few showers. His tired face stared back at him from the long mirror on the wall. He stepped closer and took in the red circles around his eyes and the unnatural paleness of his face.

He was still shaking when he thought back to that dream. And it didn't help to think that he couldn't talk to Valère about it. Nobody else knew of his... ability. He had no one to confide in now. Professor Snape had said that he could come to him for anything, but Gabriel suspected he'd just said that to be nice to him, out of pity. It was a shame, really, Gabriel thought. Maybe Snape would know what to do. And he couldn't really tell any of this to his roommates either, however nice Killian Burke was to him.

He had learned quickly not to trust people. Everybody wanted something from him. Nobody was nice just for the sake of being nice. When he was younger, the few attempts he'd tried at making friends had always ended the same way - with him crying into his pillow while Valère rubbed his back soothingly, cursing after those damned kids and already planning to owl their parents.

There had been a period, not long after he'd started attending Beauxbâtons, where things were so bad that he'd take the Floo home every day after classes. Life with his roommates was unbearable. He didn't know if it was just plain jealousy, or if he'd ever done or said something to make them turn against him, but he couldn't even spend one night in peace. His roommates had rapidly taken the habit of stealing his things, on the excuse that he had enough money to buy new ones anyway. His second year was spent entirely at home, being taught by private tutors and the peacefulness it brought him made him progress considerably in his studies. However, Valère thought it was important for him to socialize with other children so he returned for his third year. This decision brought with it the only - but biggest - dispute Gabriel had ever had with his guardian. He hadn't talked to Valère for weeks. At least, the thirteen year old was placed in the fifth year dormitory, where he managed to find some peace and quiet, without really bonding with any of his older roommates. They left him alone most of the time, for which he was grateful. It wasn't like he spent much time in his dorm anyway, he liked the library better. No one bothered him there.

He twisted the faucet and turned on the water as cold as he could, before cupping his hands and washing the cold sweat away from his cheeks and forehead. And he stared at his face and his eyes and he wondered if he was still alive, somewhere, deep inside his body.

For the rest of the night, Gabriel kept wondering what the doppelganger had meant when it said that he would never get to see Valère again, even in his dreams. Did it just mean that he would never have to reach out to someone in particular, or did it mean that seeing him was impossible because Valère just couldn't come to him? Was something keeping him from coming back? Gabriel wished he knew more about this strange world he kept wandering in his dreams. Maybe the Hogwarts library had books on the subject. The only ones he'd found in Beauxbâtons he'd already read countless times; he'd kept coming back in hope that there was some passage he'd forgotten or some chapter he'd read too quickly. There just didn't seem to be anything important on the subject. There was plenty about ghosts and ways to communicate with them, but nothing resembled what he was experiencing and he simply refused to believe that he was the only one. He couldn't be alone with this talent, there had to be others.

The morning came surprisingly rapidly. He supposed when he was woken by the dream, it must have been earlier in the morning than he'd thought. If he slept at all after that, he was unaware of it. He heard some of the boys get out of bed, get dressed and leave for breakfast. He heard the shower turn on and slowly, he got out of bed and made his way to the lavatory. A wave of hot vapour greeted him when he entered and it warmed his skin. He wondered if he was ever going to get used to the cold of the dungeons.

"Wellington! I swear if you throw me one of those disgusting slugs again I'm really gonna kill you this time!" came an irritated voice from the shower stall.

"I... sorry..." Gabriel called out hesitantly from across the room, not knowing exactly what to respond.

"Is that you, Lenoir?" the voice asked again and the shower curtain parted slightly and Killian Burke's head appeared. He grinned at him before closing the curtain again. "Sorry, mate. There's only been the three of us for a while now. Another roommate is going to need some getting used to."

"It's okay," Gabriel said, catching a glimpse at his own reflection in the mirror. He looked tired and depressed.

"Any plans for today?" Burke asked again. It took Gabriel a few seconds to decide on what he should say.

"I was... thinking about visiting the library," he answered. He almost cringed at the awkwardness in his own voice. He knew this was supposed to feel normal, sharing details of his life with others, but he really needed practice.

"It's your first day at Hogwarts and you want to go to the library! Are you serious?" Burke's voice echoed in the washroom and it sounded slightly offended.

"What should I be doing, then?" he asked his new roommate, frowning but trying not to sound annoyed.

The shower turned off and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Burke's hand grab at a towel he'd left hanging on the wall. "I was thinking about going out for a fly this morning. Before it gets too hot out, you know. I don't mind the company. Anthony and Garrett are not big on Quidditch. You got a broom?"

"Yes... I haven't used it much, though..." Gabriel started.

"Well, you know how to fly, right?"

"Yes..."

"Hurry up, then! I'll wait for you in the common room!"

Gabriel's broomstick had been a gift from Valère for his birthday last year. It was a Nimbus 1800 limited edition. The old man had hoped that the world-class broom would give Gabriel an interest for outdoor activities. It had, for a while, and Valère looked positively radiant whenever his adopted son came in at the end of the day, windswept and out of breath. But then Gabriel had started working on the Wolfsbane variation with Mr. Rousseau and the broomstick was put away in its case, where it had remained until that very day.

Gabriel showered quickly and dressed in a simple pair of slacks and a dark t-shirt. Professor Dumbledore had mentioned that students tended to dress more casually in the weekends and he had yet to take his new school robes out of the wrapping anyway. He made his bed with a quick flick of his wand, and opened the chest to take out his broom case and gloves.

There were only a few people in the common room when he entered. Most of them were filing out of the dormitories and leaving for breakfast. Killian Burke was standing next to the fireplace, holding a Cleansweep Eight in one hand. He was chatting with a petite black-haired girl who looked to be around their age. She looked at him when he approached them and her pretty, aristocratic face offered him a polite smile.

"Evelyn, this is Gabriel Lenoir, my new roommate and flying partner!" Burke announced, giving a friendly slap on Gabriel's back as soon as he reached the two Slytherins.

"Evelyn Bagnold, Slytherin Prefect," the girl said, immediately reaching out to shake his hand.

"Bagnold, like the Minister for Magic?" he asked. He already knew the answer, of course. Only a teenager used to political gatherings would introduce herself that way and shake his hand so firmly, even in an informal meeting.

The girl's face lit up considerably at his words. "The very same. Minister Bagnold is my mother."

"Pleasure to meet you," Gabriel said, returning her smile.

Killian snorted. "She looks pretty harmless like this, mate, but trust me, she's ruthless. Don't let her catch you out in the castle after curfew even once, you'll never hear the end of it."

The girl narrowed her eyes at Killian's words. "It was twice, Burke! This is my last warning to you! If I catch you one more time, I'll have to report you to Professor Snape." She turned back to Gabriel then, and her face softened. "Nice to meet you, Lenoir. I'm sure you'll feel at home here very quickly." And with one last look towards Burke, she left for the Great Hall.

"Isn't she just bloody gorgeous?" Burke asked, a wide grin plastered on his face.

"Yes, I suppose she is..." Then, curiously, he added, "Why were you out after curfew?"

Burke's smirk widened ever more, if it was possible. "Because I hoped she would catch me." He groaned slightly in frustration. "I want to do things to her, you wouldn't believe..."

This was awkward, Gabriel thought, but didn't show his embarrassment. Fortunately, the conversation was quickly steered away from Evelyn Bagnold when Killian noticed his broomstick case.

"That looks like a fancy broom you've got there, mate. What is it?" the boy asked as they were making their way out of the common room and through the hallways on their way to breakfast.

"It's a Nimbus 1800."

"That is neat! They just came out last month!"

"I've had it for a while. It was a gift from my... from Professor Henri. He was good friends with Devlin Whitehorn."

"Oh, Lenoir... People are so gonna hate you here," Killian laughed. When he saw the hesitant, almost fearful look Gabriel was giving him in return, his laughter stopped abruptly and he was suddenly very serious. "Hey, I was only joking. Nobody's gonna hate you. Come on, let's go eat."

They had emerged from a narrow staircase onto the main floor of Hogwarts and the morning light that penetrated the tall, gothic windows of the hallway, allowed Gabriel to admire the castle for the first time in daylight. Killian Burke continued to chat away as they entered the Great Hall and made their way to the Slytherin table. The enchanted ceiling above their heads was a cloudless blue. Gabriel noticed a few students looking at him and just before he was to sit down with his new friend, Killian poked his arm and pointed towards the staff table, where Headmaster Dumbledore was gesturing for him to approach. He left his broom with Burke's next to their seats and, nervously made his way towards his new guardian, under the curious glances of the students.

"Gabriel, my boy, I am so glad you could join us at last," the old man said fondly, smiling down at him. "How do you like the castle so far?"

"It's magnificent, sir," Gabriel answered politely, stealing a glance at the Potions Master out of the corner of his eye. The man was sitting on the Headmaster's left and sipping what looked to be black coffee from a glass cup.

"I would like to introduce you to Professor McGonagall," Dumbledore said then, inclining his head toward the woman sitting on his right. "She is the Deputy Headmistress here at Hogwarts. If you have any problems and I am unavailable, you can feel free to go to her."

The tall woman stood up and leaned over the table to shake Gabriel's hand. "It is good to finally meet you, Mr. Lenoir."

"Dare I hope that your roommates left you some peace and quiet last night?" the Head of Slytherin asked suddenly, interrupting Gabriel's response. "That is, if Mr. Burke managed to stop talking long enough for you to fall asleep."

Gabriel managed a smile as he turned back to the Potions Master. "It went well, sir."

Snape fished into his pocket and gave the boy a piece of parchment he had been carrying with him. "Here is your class schedule for this term. I was able to give you the electives you wanted. The Ancient Runes classroom was already full but I spoke to Professor Babbling and she agreed to fit you in anyway."

"Thank you, sir."

"What are your plans for the day, my boy?" the Headmaster asked again, his eyes twinkling brightly.

"Killian Burke and I are going flying after breakfast."

"Ah, were I young and energetic again, I probably would do the same. This is such a perfect morning for flying, don't you think, Severus?"

Snape simply nodded at the Headmaster and grimly turned back to his breakfast. The strong coffee burned his throat as he drank but he didn't react to the pain. Dumbledore chatted with the new student for another minute or two before the boy returned to his housemates. Severus watched him walk back to the Slytherin table, never raising his head up from his plate. Even with the little time he'd spent with the boy, Severus could already say with certainty that he was something different. The boy was fifteen, for Merlin's sake, and yet his eyes showed an old soul - a somewhat damaged one - one that Severus could associate with. Just before the boy sat down, he looked up and his pale eyes met with the teacher's black ones and for a fraction of a second, something small fluttered, right next to Severus' heart.

This light but treacherous flutter, Severus had only felt twice before in his life. The first time had been for Lily Evans. He had loved her the first moment he laid eyes on her and had kept loving her ever since. She had married another man, a man he despised, and he hadn't even tried to get her back. Lily had been dead for a long time, killed alongside the man she loved. Seven years later, and with his sadness turned into hatred, Severus had managed to convince himself that, had she chosen him instead of James Potter, he would have protected her.

The second flutter had been for Lucius Malfoy, but Severus was old enough now, and not so naïve, and he knew that what he'd felt then for his fellow Slytherin was only lust. The Malfoys were seductive in nature so Severus knew it wasn't entirely his fault. The man was married now and he had a son too, but he made sure to keep his old friend updated on his extra-marital activities, probably because he thought it would make Severus jealous and frustrated. It didn't. Severus hadn't felt anything other than total indifference, annoyance or hate for anyone, for years, until now.

"I truly hope Gabriel doesn't become bored with his classes too rapidly," the Headmaster said suddenly, breaking his train of thoughts. "Madame Maxime has told me how much more advanced he was than the other students in Beauxbâtons."

"Perhaps we ought to make him skip a grade?" McGonagall suggested.

"I disagree," Severus announced, between two sips of his coffee. "The boy doesn't need to attract any more attention than he already does, what with being heir to the Lenoir fortune and adopted son of the Headmaster." The Transfiguration teacher looked at him, eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Don't look at me like that, Minerva," he said, disdainfully. "If you were to ask the boy yourself, I'm almost certain he would tell you the same. I suggest we have him pass his O.W.L.s and see how well he does, and then we decide if it's worth putting him in sixth year or if he can make it directly into seventh. Besides, I'm his Head of House and the decision is up to me."

Most of the students had their eyes on Gabriel Lenoir that morning; especially the Slytherins and Severus felt somewhat proud of his House. Even when he'd told them himself that the boy was one of their own, the snakes kept their guard up. They seemed to be trying to analyse him but the teacher knew that if someone was to stand up right that instant and give the boy trouble, his new housemates would have his back. At first he had felt unease when the Headmaster told him the boy had been sorted into Slytherin, but now that he knew Gabriel, Severus could only admit that it was the perfect place for the Lenoir heir. He was surrounded with kids who came from families just as high in wizarding society and just as fortunate as his was. The Minister's own daughter had left her seat at the end of the table to sit across from him and Burke. She was taking a look at Gabriel's schedule and seemed happy to notice that it was the same as hers. Severus was glad the boy would have at least one person he already knew in his classes, but he couldn't wait to see what the boy could do in Potions. If Emil Rousseau had been right, he was in for a surprise.

Severus knew that most of the students were terrified by him and it was better that way. Fear, in a way, was a form of respect. He remembered his old Potions Master, Horace Slughorn, and how he'd chosen to manage his student-teacher relationships. The man had started some sort of honours club for his favourite students and everybody had loved him of course, but as a result, he'd had no authority whatsoever. When Severus started teaching he'd promised himself he wouldn't let students walk all over him like he'd seen it happen with Professor Slughorn.

He'd heard others say that he wasn't fair, that he favoured the Slytherins, and he was the first to admit that it was true. The Slytherins needed to be favoured, to be treated as if they were more than just Dark Wizards in the making. They needed to feel that they mattered, that there were options open to them other than follow into their parents' footsteps, that they were free to do with their lives whatever they wanted to do. They needed that so they wouldn't make the same mistakes Severus had made - trust the wrong people, fall into the dark arts, and lose everything that ever mattered. The Slytherins deserved to be favoured, to be treated above others because most of them, even if they killed themselves trying, would never manage to make their parents proud. This was the way of the Purebloods; Severus had lived amongst them long enough to know how the machine worked. It was a never-ending cycle of guilt, reproaches, arranged marriages, physical and psychological pain, and the fear, the ever present fear of just not being good enough. So when people complained about how he favoured the Slytherins, Severus just turned a deaf ear on their ignorance.

Severus looked on as the boy talked with the other Slytherins. Most of the students who were sitting closer to him had introduced themselves by now. The boy was piling fruits and bread onto his plate, eyeing the porridge suspiciously. Severus found himself admiring how the morning light that penetrated the Great Hall reflected itself onto Gabriel Lenoir's hair, making it even paler, almost white. Immediately, the Potions Master felt disgusted with himself; he was thirteen years older than the boy for Merlin's sake, that was just wrong. Irritated and angry at himself, Severus forced himself to look away and attacked his eggs mercilessly.

"Are you going to try out for the Quidditch team, Gabriel?" asked Evelyn Bagnold, eyeing his broom as she sliced a grapefruit before giving him half. "The tryouts are next week."

"You don't happen to play Seeker, do you?" inquired Anthony Wellington, another one of his roommates. "If we could only find a way to beat Charlie bloody Weasley, that would make my year."

"I'll get Seeker this year, mate! Don't you worry about Weasley!" Killian Burke announced proudly but Wellington only raised his eyebrows at him before turning back to Gabriel.

"Well... I've never really played Quidditch before. Truthfully, I'm not a big fan of it," Gabriel shrugged.

Killian practically choked on his pumpkin juice at the words. "Not a big fan of it? Are you mad or is it just because you're French?"

Gabriel took no offense, but Evelyn threw Burke a piece of bread that hit his forehead with a smack and bounced on the side of his plate before falling directly into his glass.

"Good shot!" Burke smirked, wiping the juice from his face.

"Burke! Bagnold! Are you gonna stop acting like first year Hufflepuff Mudbloods? You're in Slytherin for Merlin's sake." The reprimanding voice came from a seventh year Slytherin sitting farther away at the end of the table. Gabriel looked up at him, surprised by the use of the word 'Mudblood' but from the laughs that came from some of the students, he understood that Slytherins seemed to be comfortable with the term.

"Language, Mr. Ruskin," said their Head of House as he passed the table.

Gabriel raised his head at the voice but Professor Snape avoided his eyes and sped up his pace, slipping out of the Great Hall as swiftly as he could.