Slytherin Qualities

Astronomy class required observing the night sky once per week, from atop the Astronomy Tower. For Hufflepuff and Slytherin first-years, it was every Monday at midnight. Professor Sinistra was pacing behind the students, pulling her cloak around herself in the chilly November air. She was another one of the older teachers who was nearing retirement. Typically she would make sure everyone had their star charts out and their telescopes pointed in the right direction, and then she would step inside where it was warmer for most of the rest of the hour. At that point, the students who were actually interested in astronomy would continue stargazing, while the others would aim their telescopes at the Forbidden Forest, or Hagrid's hut, or Hogsmeade, or begin horsing around, threatening to throw each other off the tower.

Sinistra tried to pair students from different houses together, following the Headmistress's edict, but usually the Hufflepuff-Slytherin pairs separated as soon as she went inside. For the moment, Dewey was paired with Violet, and next to them, Edgar was paired with Nero.

“Why are you lot such gits?” Edgar asked the Slytherin boy. “Why can't we just be friends?”

Nero sneered at him. “Because you're Hufflepuffs!”

“That's a stupid reason,” said Edgar.

“Persuasive argument,” Violet commented dryly.

“He's not wrong,” Dewey shrugged. He leaned over to peer into the telescope. “There, it's in focus now.”

“Why don't you make friends with White?” Nero said. “He wants to be a Hufflepuff anyway!” The other Slytherins laughed at that. Stephen, paired with Simon, tried to ignore them and pretended to be looking at their star chart.

A few feet away, Geoffrey Montague exclaimed, “That's not a bloody star, that's Venus! Are you stupid or illiterate?”

“Ten points from Slytherin, Mr. Montague!” scolded Professor Sinistra, as Sung-Hee recoiled.

“She can't tell the difference between a planet and a star!” Geoffrey said disgustedly.

Dewey stalked over to them. “Switch places with me,” he said to Sung-Hee, pointing at Violet. Sung-Hee hesitated, then walked over to the telescope he had been sharing with Violet, with her eyes downcast. Dewey turned to face Geoffrey.

“Got a problem with a partner who won't take your crap?” he growled, looking the Slytherin in the eye.

“Can you find Sirius?” Geoffrey sneered. And as Dewey leaned over to begin adjusting the telescope, added, “Ravenclaw's going to obliterate you next week!”

Dewey ignored Geoffrey's sniping until the end of class, when he rolled up his star chart and returned to Violet and Sung-Hee. “Thanks for helping her,” he said to Violet. Violet nodded.

“Yes, thank you,” said Mercy Burbage softly, joining Sung-Hee.

Violet seemed very uncomfortable, and merely nodded to the Hufflepuff girl. The Slytherins and the Hufflepuffs began squeezing through the door that exited from the Astronomy Tower, but Dewey saw that Mercy and Sung-Hee were staying outside, so he paused and let the other students go on ahead. Violet paused herself. He grinned at her and tilted his head in Mercy and Sung-Hee's direction, indicating she should join him. She looked down the stairs, and at the retreating backs of her fellow Slytherins and the other Hufflepuffs, and then joined Dewey, almost reluctantly.

“I saw you correcting Sung-Hee's chart,” he whispered to her.

“Her English isn't very good, is it?” Violet whispered back.

“No, but it's improving.” He walked over to the Hufflepuff girls. Mercy smiled at him, and nodded to Violet. “I promised Sung-Hee I'd stay after to help her learn all the names of the stars properly.” Sung-Hee smiled shyly at Dewey and Violet, and then her eyes suddenly widened in alarm, at something she saw over their shoulders. She let out a horrified shriek.

Dewey and Violet spun around. On the other side of the tower, Stephen White was standing atop one of the battlements, perilously close to the edge, facing away from them.

“Hey!” Dewey yelled. He ran to the far side, skidding to a halt and looking up as Stephen glanced over his shoulder and took a step closer to the edge. “Have you lost your mind? What do you think you're doing?”

“What do you care?” Stephen mumbled. “Just go away.”

Violet had joined Dewey, along with Mercy and Sung-Hee, both looking breathless and terrified.

“All right, I know you're not really intending to jump off,” said Dewey.

As if to contradict him, Stephen placed both feet carefully at the edge of the parapet he was standing on, and swayed slightly, as if testing his balance. Even in the moonlight, they could see that his face was pale and his eyes were wide as he stared down at the ground in front of the entrance to the castle.

“Look mate,” said Dewey, “Whatever's eating at you, it can't be that bad!”

“What would you know?” Stephen yelled at him. “Are you getting beaten up and jinxed every day by your own house? Did the Sorting Hat throw you in with a bunch of sharks?”

Dewey looked at Violet. He'd known Stephen didn't seem to have a lot of friends, even among the other Slytherins, but he wasn't really aware of what things were like in Slytherin House.

“It threw me into the same place it threw you,” said Violet.

“You belong with Slytherin!” Stephen shouted.

“Do I?” Violet asked quietly. Dewey looked at her, surprised. “So it's been easy for me, has it?”

“I can't take it anymore! I hate this place! I hate Hogwarts! I hate Slytherin!” Stephen wiped his eyes clumsily with his forearm.

“Stephen,” Dewey pleaded. “I know it can be rough, but...”

“Go ahead,” said Violet. “Jump.”

Behind them, Mercy gasped, while Dewey stared at her. Her eyes were cold and unsympathetic. Stephen looked at her in dismay.

“If you really wanted to die,” Violet said calmly, “you could have picked a time when you knew no one else was up here. What do you think will happen, if you jump? Everyone will feel sorry for you, and Nero and Geoffrey and Anthony and those other prats will feel badly about how they treated you?” Violet scoffed. “If you're looking for sympathy, you are in the wrong house!”

“Violet!” Dewey muttered, appalled.

“I'll feel badly if you jump,” Mercy said suddenly. “I...I don't want to see Thestrals, not yet. And I think your parents will miss you terribly. When someone you love dies, it leaves a big empty hole that nothing can ever fill.”

Dewey swallowed, and nodded. “That's true,” he said. “And besides, you'd probably come back as a ghost. Do you really want to be another Moaning Myrtle, haunting the Astronomy Tower? They'd probably call you Leaping Stephen or something horrible like that.” He stepped forward, and held out his hand. “Come on, mate,” he said gently.

Stephen looked over his shoulder at them, and back over the edge, and suddenly he cried out and his arms waved wildly in the air as he slipped and started to fall forward. Dewey and Violet both lunged at him. Dewey grabbed Stephen's belt, while Violet caught his ankles. Stephen continued toppling over, dragging Dewey forward and pulling Violet off the ground, until Mercy grabbed Violet and added her own weight to counterbalance Stephen's, and the three of them hauled him back from the edge of the parapet, over which he'd been dangling, and safely back to the roof of the Astronomy Tower.

Stephen looked down, too ashamed to meet anyone's eyes.

“Let's get inside,” said Dewey, wanting to get Stephen away from high places as quickly as possible. He and Mercy exchanged uneasy looks, while Sung-Hee wrung her hands anxiously. As they all headed downstairs, Dewey whispered to Violet, “You need to tell Professor Slughorn about this.”

She nodded. They didn't speak further. At the Entrance Hall, Violet and Stephen split off to head for the Slytherin dungeons, while Dewey, Mercy, and Sung-Hee went down the stairs to Hufflepuff's tunnels.

“She told him to jump?” Teddy asked the next day, appalled.

“Well, I don't think she actually wanted him to do it,” Dewey said.

“Of course she didn't! Still, that's –”

“You boys do not sound as if you are discussing the charms one must use to repel Red Caps,” said Professor Rai, leaning over their desk with his hands behind his back.

“Er –” Dewey stammered.

“Mr. Diggory, I shall assume you have thoroughly digested this chapter since you have moved on to more interesting topics of conversation,” Rai continued. “Please elaborate for the class, the most effective means of repelling Red Caps, Erklings, and Imps.”

“Red Caps are afraid of wizards and will run from nearly any display of magic,” Dewey replied. “Erklings won't run unless they're hurt, but Blasting, Stinging, or Stunning spells will all do the trick. Imps are best gotten rid of with an Imp-Away Charm.”

“Quite correct, Mr. Diggory. I am pleasantly surprised. Ten points to Hufflepuff. And Mr. Lupin, what are the distinguishing characteristics of each of these nasty little bleeders?”

Teddy flushed. “Umm, Red Caps, umm, wear red caps. And Erklings... don't? And Imps are... small?”

Everyone, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff alike, laughed. Rai shook his head and sighed theatrically.

“A most unsatisfying response, Mr. Lupin. Tomorrow, I want a more detailed one, on parchment, at least a foot, and none of that large scrawled handwriting some of you are so fond of.” Professor Rai looked around the class. “In our next class, we will begin our unit on Dark creatures.” The bell rang, and everyone picked up their things.

“How did you know all that?” Teddy asked Dewey, disgruntled.

“It's in the book. Didn't you read it?”

Teddy closed his mouth and looked sheepish. As they exited the classroom, Edgar followed after Dewey and Teddy. “Hey, Lupin!”

Teddy turned to look at the big Muggle-born boy, as did Dewey, surprised.

“I was just wondering,” Edgar said, shuffling nervously from one foot to the other. “Umm, I notice you haven't been walking with Chloe lately, and I, thought maybe, if you and her aren't, I mean –” His broad face was even ruddier than usual.

“Get out of here!” Dewey said. “First-years are too young to be dating!” At that moment, Mercy and Sung-Hee walked past, and Mercy waved at him. Dewey swallowed uncomfortably and waved back.

“Who said anything about dating?” Edgar protested, looking even more embarrassed. “I just wanted to... you know, walk with her. If she wants to.”

“You don't need my permission,” said Teddy, annoyed. “But you want to stay away from that one, trust me.”

Edgar's brow wrinkled. “She's Muggle-born, like me, isn't she?”

“And pretty,” Dewey added. He found Edgar's infatuation amusing.

Teddy didn't. “Pretty poison!” he spat. “She's an evil, spoiled little brat! You'll stay away from her if you know what's good for you!”

Edgar frowned. “That's a lousy way to talk about someone from your own house.”

“She's no Gryffindor!” Teddy said contemptuously. “The hat did us dirty by putting her in our house!”

Edgar and Dewey both raised their eyebrows at that. “So I guess that means you don't mind me talking to her, then,” Edgar mumbled, and stalked off.

Dewey opened his mouth to say something, and then froze, as he saw Chloe standing only a few feet away, staring at the two of them. Teddy turned and saw her too. From her expression, it was clear she had heard every word. She put her head down and turned away, running towards the stairs to Gryffindor Tower.

“You're being really hard on her, aren't you?” Dewey asked.

“After what she did to Violet?” Teddy demanded.

“I know,” Dewey sighed. “That was a rotten thing to do. But she didn't do it on her own. Do you want to make her a pariah like White?” He narrowed his eyes. “And you know, if she's such a horrible person, I'd like to know which house you think she does belong in?”

Teddy had no good answer to that.

Violet had not told Professor Slughorn about Stephen's abortive suicide attempt. He begged her not to, in the corridor outside the Slytherin common room.

“Please don't tell anyone!” he pleaded. “It'll just make it worse! I can just imagine all the offers of help, and suggestions on how to do it right, and every time we're on the roof...” He looked down.

Violet knew he was right. The other Slytherins would taunt him even more mercilessly. But she thought someone needed to be told.

“Please, Violet,” he whispered. “I know you think I'm pathetic, just like everyone else, but if you tell them, I really will –”

“Stop that!” she said. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself! No one thinks you're more pathetic than you do!” He flinched. “And you don't think about anyone but yourself! Mercy was right. Were you thinking about your parents at all?”

He hung his head. “I thought Slytherins aren't supposed to think about anyone but themselves.”

“Is that what you thought? Well, you're an idiot!” He flinched again.

She sighed. “Are you going to do anything stupid like that again?”

He shook his head. “No. I promise.”

With deep misgivings, Violet kept silent about the incident on the roof, until the next day, when Teddy was paired with her in Herbology.

“What did Professor Slughorn say about White?” he whispered, as they examined the saplings that Professor Longbottom had had planted in a small plot outside the greenhouses. They were all foreign wandwood trees, like cherry and hornbeam, and required particular care to keep alive during the harsh northern winters.

“I haven't told him,” Violet replied.

Teddy stared at her. “You've got to tell someone! He tried to off himself!”

“He didn't really want to die. He just wanted sympathy.”

“Is that why Dewey said you told him to go ahead and jump?” Teddy demanded.

Violet frowned. “You have to be tough to survive in Slytherin.”

Teddy was quiet for a while. He saw that Stephen was paired with Colin, who mostly ignored him, and Chloe was paired with Anthony Dreadmoor, who seemed to be pleased about this, which annoyed him.

“You know, if you don't like being in Slytherin –” he said, as Violet crouched to inspect the base of a cherry sapling.

“What? I should ask to become a Gryffindor at the end of the year?” She stood up and stared at him.

“Would that be so bad?”

She looked at him, and shook her head. “So, I'm good enough for Gryffindor, am I? I should be flattered.” She didn't sound flattered. Teddy was confused.

“Lupin the Lunatic wants Violet in Gryffindor!” exclaimed Nero. Both of them turned around quickly. They hadn't realized the Slytherin boy had been listening in.

“I didn't say that!” Teddy snapped.

“Oh, so she's not good enough for Gryffindor?” Nero sneered.

“I didn't say that either!” Teddy clenched his fists, and Violet gave Nero a withering look. “Why don't you mind your own business, Velenos?”

“We could trade,” suggested Anthony. “Violet for Chloe.”

“We'll throw in White, too,” snickered Geoffrey Montague. “Not that anyone would want him.”

Now Chloe was blushing as well, and looking more than a little horrified. Stephen tried to pretend he wasn't paying attention.

“Shut up,” Violet said.

“Shut up!” Teddy snarled.

“Ooh, Lupin the Lunatic is about to lose his cool!” Nero said in feigned terror.

“Better be careful,” Geoffrey sneered. “You know what'll happen if he really loses it!”

“And what's that supposed to mean?” Teddy demanded, advancing on Geoffrey.

“What's going on here?” demanded Professor Longbottom, hearing trouble brewing, but the boys weren't listening to him.

Geoffrey looked at Nero and Anthony, exchanged a grin with them, and then turned back to face Teddy. He leaned forward, pursed his lips together, and let out a long, wolf-like howl. “Arroooooooooo!”

Violet gasped and Chloe screamed as Teddy launched himself at Geoffrey, but he didn't hear those sounds, or Professor Longbottom yelling at them, or the hooting and chanting from the Gryffindors and Slytherins as the two boys rolled around on the ground. Teddy's blood was pounding furiously, filling his ears with a roaring sound and filling his vision with red rage, and Geoffrey's smirk turned to dismay, and then fear, as Teddy's fingers closed around his throat, and then he began choking him, then punched the Slytherin in the face, over and over, until Longbottom had to bodily drag Teddy off, kicking and screaming and snarling.

“TEDDY LUPIN, STOP RIGHT NOW!” Longbottom roared, and Teddy finally stopped struggling and stood still. Everyone else was also standing stock still in shock. No one had ever heard Professor Longbottom raise his voice before, but it was Teddy they were all staring at, including Violet.

Longbottom looked distraught, and furious. “Fifty points each from Gryffindor and Slytherin! What is wrong with you? All of you! Don't you think your parents saw enough of this without you having to continue it?”

“He started it!” Geoffrey protested, wiping blood off his lip. “That freak –!” He fell silent as Longbottom pointed at him and said, “Another ten points from Slytherin, and more for anyone else who opens his or her mouth!”

He glared at the two of them. “I can't tell you how disappointed and disgusted I am, especially with you, Teddy! That will be a week of detention for both of you, and you're lucky I don't send you to the Headmistress's office!”

Teddy's eyes shot daggers at Geoffrey. Even Violet was taken aback at how dark and angry Teddy looked. But she was more taken aback by the way his face had transformed into something monstrous and inhuman while he was beating up the Slytherin boy.

“I should have stopped him?” Violet whispered to Kai later in Charms, after she had told him about Teddy's fight with Geoffrey. “I seem to recall someone else pointing out that you can't stop Teddy from doing something stupid.”

“Well, that's true,” Kai admitted. He sighed. “I reckon the cat's out of the bag about his special talent.”

“I reckon so,” Violet replied dryly. She was a little disgruntled to learn that Dewey and Kai had already known about Teddy being a metamorphmagus, while she only found out along with everyone else in Professor Longbottom's Herbology class.

Kai ducked as a flying pillow almost knocked his glasses off his face. “Blimey, Gilbert, could your aim possibly be worse?” he snapped over his shoulder.

The Slytherins and Ravenclaws were again working in pairs. Having progressed from levitating feathers, Professor Flitwick now had them trying to levitate small pillows. Some students were able to do so, others were still having trouble making them move. Then there were those like Kai's roommate, who had no problems with moving his pillow, but seemed completely unable to control where it went.

“Hopeless, he is,” muttered Kai.

“At least he's not threatening to kill himself,” Violet muttered back.

“I should be so lucky.” And when Violet glared at him, he offered a weak grin. “That was a joke.”

“A poor one.”

“I thought Slytherins appreciate gallows humor.”

Violet rolled her eyes, and then frowned as Kai made his pillow flip end-over-end in the air, looking smug as it obeyed the movements of his wand. She hated to admit it – she hated to admit it very much – but Kai was quite good at Charms.

“Very good, Mr. Chang!” Flitwick exclaimed, pleased. “Five points for Ravenclaw!”

A pillow and a textbook hit Kai in the back of the head. He yelped as his pillow tumbled to the desk and his glasses went flying.

“Bloody hell, Zirkle!” he yelled angrily.

“Wasn't me!” protested Gilbert.

“Oops,” said Bernice.

“Tut, tut! Language, Mr. Chang!” scolded Flitwick. “Five points from Ravenclaw! And Miss Selwyn, please be more careful!”

“Yes, Professor,” said Bernice sweetly, sounding entirely too contrite.

“If one of us had said that, it'd have been ten points off!” hissed Anthony from the next table.

“No it wouldn't. Professor Flitwick is fair,” growled Connor, Anthony's partner. Anthony just sneered back at him.

Violet handed Kai his glasses, who put them back on and then rubbed the back of his head with a grimace.

“He does seem rather hopeless,” observed Violet, looking over Kai's shoulder.

“He needs tutoring,” Kai grumbled. “I've been helping him some, but...”

“What he needs,” said Violet, “is a new partner.”

“What?” Kai blinked at her.

She shook her head. “Boys are idiots. And not very observant.”

Kai turned around, and noticed for the first time the goofy look on Gilbert Zirkle's face, as he rested his chin in his hands and watched Nagaeena trying to levitate their pillow. She was doing her best to ignore the Ravenclaw boy, but she looked quite frustrated, as she couldn't get the pillow to move at all.

He turned around and stared at Violet. “You've got to be kidding me!”

Violet smirked. “She is pretty.”

“Yeah, I suppose. If you like the kind of girl who can unhinge her jaw and swallow live rats.”

Violet set her wand down and frowned at him. “Why would you say that?” she demanded, not believing that she was actually defending Nagaeena.

“C'mon, she's...” Kai stopped, and noticed Violet's expression.

“She's what?” Violet said ominously.

“Er, bald,” he mumbled, looking away. Violet's eyes narrowed.

As the bell rang, Gilbert stood up, and reached for Nagaeena's books, offering to carry them for her. He ended up knocking them all over the floor instead. Nagaeena let out an indignant yelp, and then pushed him away when he knelt to help her pick them up.

“Hopeless,” sighed Kai.

“At least he's trying to foster inter-house relations,” Violet said.

“Well, he's sure not scoring any points.”

Violet knew that Teddy was right. She had to talk to someone about Stephen. So she went to Professor Slughorn.

“Miss Parkinson!” the Head of Slytherin beamed, when she knocked on his office door that evening. “Do come in!” He invited her to sit in the same chair that Teddy had sat in only a couple of weeks prior. She looked around at his books and portraits and mementos, and the box of crystallized pineapple he was currently enjoying. “Is everything going well? Keeping up with your schoolwork? Making friends in Slytherin?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, not entirely truthfully on the last point.

He nodded. “Good, good.” He regarded her more seriously. “I notice you've been chatting with your cousin Teddy in Potions, again. Does that mean you've reconciled? Because I know how very upsetting that nasty little prank on your birthday was, but I'm quite certain that young man had nothing to do with it.”

She nodded. “I know, sir. We're friends again, but that's not what I came to talk about.”

“Excellent!” He beamed again. “Well, then, how can I help you, Miss Parkinson?”

“I'd like to speak to the Sorting Hat.”

Slughorn paused, with a piece of crystallized pineapple halfway to his mouth. His bushy white eyebrows went up.

“You want to speak to the Sorting Hat?” he repeated. “May I ask why?”

She was silent a moment, then said, “If I have to tell you in order to speak to the hat, I will, but I'd rather not. It's personal.”

“I see,” he said. He popped the pineapple into his mouth and chewed it slowly and thoughtfully. He swallowed it, and then asked, “Miss Parkinson, are you unhappy in Slytherin?”

She blinked. Now she could see what Professor Slughorn was thinking, and she felt rather foolish that she hadn't foreseen that. Worse, she wasn't sure how to answer honestly. She wasn't even sure what an honest answer would be.

“That's not the problem, sir,” she said slowly. She thought a moment, then said, “But perhaps you can tell me this: what are the noble qualities of our house?”

At his befuddled expression, she continued. “When we arrived, you said our house is noble and admires certain qualities. But you know what qualities Slytherins have a reputation for. And nobody thinks we're noble. And it doesn't seem to me that many Slytherins do much to change what people think of us.”

“Ah,” he said slowly. He regarded her for a moment, the skin around his eyes wrinkling in thought. “Well, Miss Parkinson, what do you think of Slytherins?”

She frowned. “I... don't know.”

“Let me tell you one quality we admire. It's doing what's right for you, rather than doing what others want you to do. Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, they spend a great deal of time worrying about their image. Why, just between you and me, I think most Gryffindors don't understand the difference between acting brave and being brave. We Slytherins can be brave when we must, but we don't worry about whether or not others think we're brave.”

“Apparently we don't worry about whether or not others think we're Death Eaters, either.”

Slughorn coughed, and reached for a glass of water.

“There are no more Death Eaters, Miss Parkinson,” he said sternly.

“You know what I mean, sir.”

He frowned at her. “No, Miss Parkinson, we don't waste our breath trying to convince people who are already set against us. The small-minded opinions of small-minded people have not limited my social network at all, and as you can see,” he gestured at the pictures behind his desk, “I count many non-Slytherins among my friends.”

She sat there quietly for a little while. She was not sure that Professor Slughorn's definition of “friend” was quite the same as hers. Then she asked at last, “So can I talk to the Sorting Hat, sir?”

He reached for another piece of crystallized pineapple. “I will speak to Professor Llewellyn and see if I can arrange it.” Then he extended the box of candied fruit to her. “Please have a piece, my dear. It's quite delicious.”

Teddy arrived at Professor Longbottom's office that night for detention. He'd been expecting they'd probably wind up doing something in one of the greenhouses, but instead, Longbottom made him and Geoffrey follow him into a neighboring classroom, and sit at separate desks. He gave them parchment and quills.

Geoffrey rolled his eyes, and waited expectantly for Longbottom to tell them what lines they were to write. Teddy was a little surprised that the Gryffindor Head would give them such a routine punishment, but picked up his own quill.

“I want you each to write an essay,” said Professor Longbottom, “on the admirable qualities of your house.”

An essay. Well, that was more interesting than lines, at least. Teddy nodded, and dipped his quill into the bottle of ink. Then he glanced to his right, and saw with some surprise that Geoffrey was just glaring at the Head of Gryffindor.

“Did you have a question, Mr. Montague?” Longbottom asked mildly.

Geoffrey set down his quill. “We both know what you think of my house, sir!” he sneered. “This assignment is an insult.” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair defiantly. Teddy was both indignant on Professor Longbottom's behalf, and a little bit impressed by Geoffrey's cheek in spite of himself.

“I see,” said Longbottom. “So, you believe I'm prejudiced against your house?”

“Yes, sir!” said Geoffrey belligerently, though Teddy noticed he was not quite able to meet the teacher's gaze.

Longbottom nodded. “Well, you're right.”

Now Teddy and Geoffrey both stared at him. Teddy knew that Neville Longbottom had suffered as much as anyone, and more than most, because of Voldemort and his followers, and he wasn't surprised that he might bear a grudge against Slytherins. He couldn't really blame him. But he was surprised that the teacher would actually admit it, and to a Slytherin student. Geoffrey was clearly surprised by this as well.

The Gryffindor Head leaned back against his desk, half-sitting on it, and regarded Geoffrey seriously.

“As you may or may not know,” he said softly, “I lost my parents to Voldemort's followers. Slytherins, to be precise.” Geoffrey twitched a little when Longbottom mentioned Voldemort's name, but the professor continued as if he hadn't noticed. “I lost a lot of friends as well, to Death Eaters. Slytherins. And even during my school years, the students – and teachers – who tormented me the most and made my life almost unbearable at times, were Slytherins.”

Geoffrey was just staring at him now, too shocked to look angry or indignant.

“So,” said Longbottom, “it's true. I am prejudiced against Slytherins. I try very hard not to be, but it's difficult. I have known some Slytherins who are decent people – Professor Slughorn and I get on quite well, for example – but mostly not.”

He glanced at Teddy, who was just listening, and not writing anything, but Longbottom nodded to him slightly, before turning back to Geoffrey. Teddy wasn't sure if Longbottom knew who his grandmother was, but he supposed it was likely he did.

“As a teacher, I'm supposed to be impartial. It's my job to treat all students equally, and not show favoritism to my own house, or prejudice against others. All of us teachers are supposed to be fair and impartial; some of us are more successful at it than others.” Geoffrey snorted, but Longbottom let it pass. “But yes, when I see Slytherins...” His voice lowered. “Sometimes, it is very hard not to see the house that was responsible for Voldemort's rise to power.”

“So you admit you're punishing me for what happened before I was even born!” Geoffrey said triumphantly.

“No, Mr. Montague, I'm punishing you for getting into a fight with Mr. Lupin,” replied Longbottom evenly. “I'm admitting that those of us who fought the war against Voldemort cannot always separate our personal feelings from our duties as teachers. We are human, you know.” He sighed. “I struggle with those feelings. And I try to think about your feelings as well.” Montague blinked, and looked confused and wary.

“I look at you,” Longbottom said softly, “and I try not to see the child of a Death Eater.”

Geoffrey looked down at his desk angrily, blinking rapidly, jaw clenched.

“I try to think about how difficult it must be for you,” Longbottom went on quietly. “When everyone is talking about how evil and despicable the Death Eaters were, you know they're talking about your father. And maybe you think the things he did were terrible, and maybe you don't, but either way, he's still your father. But if you try to defend him, people assume you think the same way he did, and if you don't defend him, then what kind of a son are you? That's a horrible position for any child to be put in.”

Geoffrey was staring at his desk. Teddy felt uncomfortable watching him, but he couldn't look away. He tried to imagine what that would be like. His own parents were heroes. What if they hadn't been heroes, if they had fought on the other side? Would he still be a Gryffindor? Would he hate Gryffindors? Would he hate himself for who his parents were, or would he want to believe that they had been right, and resent everyone who spoke about them with contempt and hatred?

“If you perceive that I have ever been disrespectful or unfair to you because you're a Slytherin, Mr. Montague, then I apologize,” Longbottom said. “But you still have to write that essay, because you behaved abominably in my class. Both of you,” he added, looking at Teddy. “I want you to tell me the things you are proud of. Right now, I don't see that either Gryffindor or Slytherin have much reason to be proud.” He gave Teddy a look that made him wither a little in his seat. “So convince me otherwise.”

Geoffrey frowned, still not looking up, and then, very slowly, he reached for his quill. He hesitated, then dipped it in ink and began writing, and after a moment, so did Teddy.

Professor Slughorn did not escort Violet personally to the Headmistress's office the next evening, but he told her that Professor Llewellyn was expecting her, and gave her instructions on how to enter. Violet approached the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmistress's office and private quarters, trying not to show any nervousness. It looked at her stonily, without moving, until she said, “Taliesin,” and then it jumped aside, revealing a spiral stone staircase beyond.

The staircase rose magically beneath her feet, until she came to the Headmistress's office at the top. She had to stand on her toes and even then could barely reach the knocker, so her fingers merely brushed it, just enough to make it knock once against the heavy oak door.

“Enter,” said the Headmistress from within.

Violet turned the knob and pushed the door open, and stepped inside, keeping the same imperturbable expression on her face that she'd worn the night she entered Slytherin quarters for the first time.

Violet had never been in the Headmistress's office before, nor even seen the Headmistress except from across the Great Hall. She was pretty sure that it was uncommon for first-year students to request a private meeting with her – let alone a private meeting with the Sorting Hat. She wasn't sure if Professor Llewellyn would be annoyed, understanding, or demanding, but the woman merely looked expectant as she sat behind her desk and waited for Violet to enter.

“Good evening, Miss Parkinson,” said the Headmistress. “Professor Slughorn tells me that you wish to speak to the Sorting Hat.”

Violet's eyes darted up to the shelf behind Llewellyn's desk, where the hat was sitting. It had been completely inanimate when she entered, but for a moment she thought she saw it stir, when Llewellyn mentioned its name.

“Yes, ma'am,” said Violet, bringing her eyes back to Llewellyn. “If you please.” She stood in front of the Headmistress's huge desk, whose surface was almost even with Violet's shoulders. It was covered with books and, Violet noted, what seemed to be a stack of owl-delivered letters.

Llewellyn smiled. “Well, it's more a question of whether the hat pleases.” She glanced over her shoulder at the hat, which was now unmistakably tilting slightly in their direction, as if leaning closer to hear them better. “But if you're planning to ask it whether it sorted you into the correct house, or where you truly belong, I can tell you that several other students have already come here to ask the same thing. It won't give you an answer.”

“Oh.” For some reason, it surprised her to learn that other students were questioning their house assignments, though of course she knew it shouldn't have. “But that's not exactly what I wanted to ask it.”

Llewellyn raised an eyebrow. “Well, I must tell you, it's been generally quite... uncooperative, lately.” She looked at the hat again, with a slightly annoyed expression. The hat did not react. “So I wouldn't be surprised if you fail to get any kind of satisfactory answer. But, I don't see that it will hurt to let you try.” She regarded Violet a moment longer. “And Professor Slughorn said you wanted to speak to it... in private?”

Now Violet felt quite self-conscious. How bold was it for a first-year student, one who had just barely turned eleven, to come to the Headmistress's office and then ask the Headmistress to leave? She took a deep, slow breath, not revealing her nervousness on her face, and said, “If it isn't too much trouble, ma'am. I'd really appreciate it. It involves something... something I promised to keep in confidence.”

Although, it occurred to her belatedly, Mercy and Sung-Hee and Dewey had not, and by now Teddy and Kai knew, which meant she probably could simply tell anyone she pleased about Stephen's little “incident” and deny she'd done so if he came to her afterwards. But she had promised, against her better judgment. She just didn't think the hat quite counted as “anyone.”

Llewellyn's lips pressed together in a firm line. “I see.” She regarded Violet for another moment, then said, “Well, I hope you will feel free to speak to Professor Slughorn or myself about any matter regarding yourself or another student that you feel should be brought to our attention?”

“Yes, ma'am,” said Violet demurely, feeling a little guilty.

“Well, then.” Llewellyn rose from her desk. “Unfortunately, I do have quite a bit of paperwork to do and I expect to be here late into the evening, but I do need to take a break every now and then. So I can give you, perhaps, five minutes alone with the hat. I hope that will be enough?”

Violet nodded. “Yes, ma'am. Thank you very much.”

The Headmistress nodded, and swept regally out of her office, closing the door to her private quarters behind her.

Violet licked her lips nervously, and looked up at the hat. She fancied that it was studying her, though with what, she could not imagine.

“So, Miss Parkinson,” the hat drawled, speaking first. “What's on your mind?”

“Stephen White,” she said.

“Aah,” it said slowly. “He was a bit of a conundrum. Badly lacking in self-confidence. Needs guidance, a great deal of patience, I should say...”

“You put him in Slytherin!” Violet exclaimed, allowing a little bit of indignation to seep into her voice.

“I recall every student I've ever sorted, Miss Parkinson,” the hat replied dryly. “Even from a thousand years ago. I certainly remember where I sorted this year's students.”

“He doesn't belong there!” she snapped, surprised at her own anger. “I know you were trying to make some kind of point, by putting some of us in the wrong houses, and I'm sorry if I don't see it, but you really put him in the wrong house! He's so miserable he threatened to kill himself! Is that what you wanted?”

The hat was silent for a moment. Then it asked, in a surprisingly mild tone, “And what house do you think I should have put him in, Miss Parkinson?”

She stared back at it. “I... I don't know. But not Slytherin! He's spineless!”

“It sounds as if I was wise not to put him in Gryffindor, then.”

She frowned. “He can't make any friends! He gives up! He doesn't even try!”

“Then I don't suppose he'd have done well in Hufflepuff,” the hat said, in a tone that made Violet even angrier.

“He won't learn! He's not cunning or careful at all, he's not ambitious, he's not clever –”

“Does that sound like a Ravenclaw to you?” asked the hat.

Violet's mouth hung open, then she narrowed her eyes.

“So you're saying the only place a stupid, lazy, cowardly loser belongs is in Slytherin?” she demanded.

“I said no such thing, Miss Parkinson,” the hat replied slowly. It scrunched up, as if it were peering at her, and asked shrewdly, “Is that what you believe?”

Violet was speechless. She just stared at the hat. The hat stared back at her, or at least, it sat there in the manner of something staring at her, supposing that it had eyes to stare with.

Finally, she shook her head. “He might have killed himself,” she said. “What kind of point would that make?”

“Perhaps that his house failed him,” said the hat, very slowly. “Are you so certain that things would be different for White in another house?”

“I don't think he'd be bullied as much,” she replied quickly, though she thought about Kai's impatience and arrogance, which seemed to be a common trait among Ravenclaws, and she knew from personal experience that Gryffindor didn't lack bullies. Hufflepuff? Perhaps Stephen would be happier there, but somehow she had a hard time envisioning Stephen as a cheerful, hard-working Hufflepuff.

“Ah,” said the hat. “So if your house bullies someone to the point where he prefers death, it's my fault for putting him in the wrong house.”

She glared at the hat. How could she have come in here full of certainty and righteous indignation, and now find herself doubtful, questioning, and completely disarmed by a bloody hat?

There was a knock on the door from the Headmistress's quarters, and then Professor Llewellyn reentered the room. She looked at the hat and then at Violet.

“Have you concluded your conversation?” she asked.

“Yes, ma'am,” Violet replied, because she couldn't think of anything else to say to the hat.

“And did you receive a satisfactory answer?” The Headmistress seemed genuinely curious.

Violet thought about that, then replied honestly, “Not exactly.”

She could have sworn she heard the hat chuckle.

“Well, I did warn you,” Llewellyn said, as she sat at her desk. “I'm afraid I need to get back to work, however, so if there is nothing else –”

“May I ask you a question, ma'am?” Violet asked, in a moment of unexpected boldness.

The Headmistress looked up. “Yes?” she asked, a little briskly.

“What house where you in, when you were a student?”

Llewellyn stared at her for several seconds, and then her lips curled into a very small smile.

“Gryffindor,” she said at last. “Why?”

Violet licked her lips. “Can you tell me... what you think are Slytherin's qualities? I mean, honestly? Do you believe there's anything good about Slytherin?”

Both of Llewellyn's eyebrows went up.

“Miss Parkinson,” she said. “I believe that all the houses have something to offer, and that the founders were much wiser than we. And if you believe that I have any animosity against Slytherin, then I assure you – ”

“No, ma'am!” Violet said quickly, before realizing that she'd just interrupted the Headmistress. But Llewellyn only tilted her head, with a rather concerned expression. “I just... wanted to know what you think.”

“If you are having difficulty adjusting to Slytherin,” said the Headmistress, “may I suggest you talk about this with Professor Slughorn? He would be much better at extolling the virtues of your house, and helping you feel more comfortable there.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Violet said slowly. “But he'd give me a Slytherin answer. And I'd really like to hear an answer from someone who's not Slytherin.”

She knew she was asking the Headmistress something entirely unexpected, possibly unprecedented. And she knew the Headmistress was very busy as well. Here she was taking up the woman's valuable time with a silly first-year's questions. But if Llewellyn were impatient, she didn't show it.

“Well,” she said, after several moments of contemplation. She laid her hands on her desk. “You know that traditionally, the qualities of Slytherin House are cunning, ambition, a certain amount of ruthlessness, and, of course, pure blood.” She grimaced a bit at the last.

Violet nodded.

“None of those are necessarily bad qualities,” Llewellyn went on. “They can, and have, produced extremely driven individuals capable of doing great things.”

Like Voldemort, Violet thought.

“Slytherin House traditionally attracts such people,” Llewellyn went on, “and so many of the greatest witches and wizards of any age have come from Slytherin.”

“So why do Slytherins have such a bad reputation?” Violet asked. “It's not just because of You-Know-Who, is it?”

“No,” Llewellyn said. She frowned. “With good qualities come bad qualities. People who possess those Slytherin qualities I mentioned often have other qualities as well, such as cruelty, greed, and selfishness. Not always. But often. Cunning untempered by scruples, ambition untempered by compassion, ruthlessness without restraint, pure blood and a superiority complex, those things produce driven individuals of a different sort. That's true of all the houses, you know.” She smiled thinly. “I'm sure Professor Slughorn could enumerate Gryffindor's shortcomings at length.”

Violet said nothing, and Llewellyn went on. “It's my sincere hope, Miss Parkinson, that those of you in Slytherin will exhibit the very best your house has to offer, and leave behind those more ignoble qualities. That's what I'd like to see from all the houses of Hogwarts, and I'm sad to say, it's not what I've been seeing lately.”

Violet realized suddenly that Professor Llewellyn looked very tired. She imagined that those owls the Headmistress was answering probably weren't from happy parents. She nodded. “Thank you, Professor,” she said quietly, and she left the Headmistress's office and returned to the dungeons. She had a lot more to think about, but she wasn't sure she was any more enlightened.