Certain Dark Things || Book Five

xlvi. great-uncle

"Didya see it?"

"Hard to miss. It's across his whole bloody forehead."

"Do they have any idea who did it?"

"Nothing they can prove."

"Bloody hell. Lestrange is never going to be able to live this down."

Severus leaned on the mezzanine's railing and listened to the voices of the students rise from below. The attack on Accipto Lestrange had been a constant topic of discussion for Hogwarts over the last two days, and little of it was tinged with pity. Most simply assumed the boy had reaped what he'd sowed after the incident with Granger and didn't feel inclined to look deeper. Even many staff members had turned a decisive blind eye.

The Potions Master sniffed, gripped by a sinister sort of amusement. How ironic, he thought. For a moron so possessed by his own purity to have 'Mudblood' permanently emblazoned on his forehead.

Severus leaned off the railing and continued on the upper passage, unnoticed by the student horde below. The words he heard continued a familiar pattern—gruesome, cruel curiosity and gossip-mongering, speculation and delight that the head of the bothersome Inquisitorial Squad would be out of commission for a while. Umbridge, of course, was furious, and the Board was quaking under pressure from the Ministry—but they'd already made their own bed.

The door to the stairwell's staff entrance opened before Severus could reach it, and he paused in the shadows stretched between the tall windows to watch who came through. Minerva stepped into view, quietly allowing the door to shut behind her. She shut her eyes behind her square spectacles and heaved a breath of relief.

"Taking a break?" Severus said, startling the older witch into swearing. He arched an amused brow.

"Och, you ruddy bat," she wheezed, palm pressed flat to her chest. "You did that on purpose."

"Perhaps." He glanced once more over the students below, able to anticipate when the bell would ring. He braced himself, and the bells echoed through the stone corridors, vibrating through Severus' bones. Minerva paused to allow the noise to pass, then joined Severus at the railing to watch her charges hurry off toward their classes. Severus likened them to cockroaches scattering when the lights came on.

"Albus is still with the Board," she said, and from the corner of his eye, he saw how she wrung her hands. "Thaddeus Grimwood is being particularly tenacious in his search for answers about Accipto Lestrange."

"Annoying fuck," Severus grunted, earning a stressed tut of disapproval from Minerva. "Gaunt's funneling embezzled funds into his pockets. If we're lucky, he'll walk into the lake and the weight will drag him down."

It was a testament to Minerva's irritation that she didn't reprimand him. "He's always been so...friendly with Professor Slytherin before, but now...."

"It's politics. Campaigning means Gaunt's wringing every last Galleon he can out of the pure-bloods, and he's using the money to push his agenda where he pleases. It pleases him to flex his influence here and to keep reminding Dumbledore and Slytherin he exists—like a muling, needy child."

"This feels like more, Severus. It feels like he's trying to integrate the school as part of the Ministry, and that's—absurd. Outrageous."

He clenched his jaw and refused to agree, though he knew Gaunt's recent behavior had been pushing the boundaries of what could ostensibly be considered "flexing." If he kept pushing Slytherin's patience, the professor would push back—and Severus worried what would happen to Albus, seated so precariously between the two.