Chapters 31-40

Slytherin Pastimes

Caring didn’t come easily to him, but it was part of his job as head of Slytherin House. He was responsible for sixty-seven students this year, thirty-five boys and thirty-two girls, and he took that responsibility very seriously. He always had. Therefore Snape made a point of talking to each of ‘his’ children once a month.

He kept a notebook for that, with a list of the names so he wouldn’t forget anyone, and to keep track of the small troubles the children expected him to remember. Mostly he managed to remember without consulting his notes, but he had found filing that information quite useful over the years, when the development of some bout of teenaged angst or other coincided with a notable drop in academic performance. He invariably hated resorting to that strategy, but sometimes it was easier to tackle the emotional end of things to produce the desired result in the classroom, no matter how awkward and uncomfortable the procedure made him feel. And of course, compared to other discomforts of his sorry existence trying to take care of the emotional needs of his Slytherins was almost cosy, so he wouldn’t complain.

Naturally, this special schedule of his was a well-kept secret, since such maudlin sentimentality wasn’t very Slytherin, even if it was a necessary routine.

Much like administering a dose of Skele-Grow after a Quidditch match, Snape told himself, as he made his way down to the Slytherin common room on a Monday evening in late November. Just another annoying task.

Due to the Slytherin Quidditch practice taking place on Monday evenings this term, the common room was emptier than usual of an evening. Draco had occupied one of the alcoves and sat huddled over a stack of books. The NEWTs for the accelerated Seventh Year would take place shortly before Christmas. It wasn’t easy for the three Slytherins who had returned to Hogwarts, least of all for Draco. But—Snape allowed himself to feel just a little bit of pride—the boy—no, the young man—was holding up well. Better than he would have assumed at the start of the summer academy. He smirked. Potter’s absence was clearly doing Draco a world of good.

Little Geilis was curled up in an armchair, a fat book on her lap. Her right index finger was following the line she was reading at an agonised crawl. Her lips were moving soundlessly, and there was a look of intense concentration on her pale little face.

In one of the niches, four girls were gathered around a square table and playing a board game: Pansy Parkinson and the other three First Years. He frowned when he didn’t recognise the game as one of the traditional wizarding games. It looked to him as if the board was made up of hexagons that had been enchanted to mirror landscapes, meadows, fields of barley, woods, mountains, muddy or sandy areas and even a small patch of desert. Along the edges of the pentagons villages, towns and roads were springing up, directed by the players. It seemed to be a very involved strategy-game, based on trading and building. There was certainly a lot of giggling and groaning and swearing involved. With a gleeful grin, Alina was prodding the figure of a black knight across the table. She seemed to be the most accomplished player.

Had they dared to enchant a Muggle game? It certainly looked like it. For a moment Snape considered interrupting the game and demanding an explanation. Enchanting Muggle objects was dangerous. On the other hand…it was only a game. And Pansy Parkinson was quite adept at charms. And she had grown into a quite responsible young woman.

In the end, he turned away and went over to Geilis. The girl looked up and smiled shyly at her head of house. ‘Hello, sir.’

Then her gaze slid worriedly to his left arm. At his scowl, she blushed ferociously. ‘I…I…How…how is your arm, sir?’ she stuttered.

The official story was that he had had a potions accident. Which was utterly humiliating, but preferable to the truth, of course. He forced a smile. ‘Thank you, child. Quite well.—I hear that my apprentice has been tutoring you?’

The blush deepened into a crimson colour. ‘I—uh—yes, she does, I mean—Miss Granger. She noticed how I was having trouble—and uh—she’s been—uh—’

‘Helping you?’ He wouldn’t force her to admit out loud that she’d been sent off to Hogwarts barely able to read. Discreet inquiries had revealed that due to Hermione’s help, lots of practice and her innate magical talents Miss Duncan was quite a good reader by now. Not quite on the same level as her class-mates, but certainly up to the curriculum of her year.

The child nodded fiercely.

‘That’s good. What are you reading?’

Geilis swallowed hard. ‘Just—just a Muggle book, sir.’

When he frowned, she added quickly, ‘I—the magical ones—they are harder to read, sir, with the story shifting and pulling you in and all. But it has magic and wizards, sir.’

‘Magic and wizards?’ He raised an eyebrow. What kind of Muggle rubbish had He– Granger given to the child?

‘They are reading ‘The Lord of the Rings’,’ Draco put in. ‘Hermione comes over twice a week in the evening and reads a chapter to us, then we take turns. Everyone reads a page.’

Snape turned to Draco, aghast. He didn’t know what shocked him more, the book that his imbecilic apprentice had chosen or the fact that his Slytherins were apparently quite happy to spend an evening reading Muggle mythology.

His apprehension and consternation must have shown on his face, because Draco laughed.

‘You don’t need to worry,’ Draco reassured him. ‘Their favourite character is Gandalf, not Saruman. Slytherins prefer to side with the winning team. And he’s quite a wily wizard, that Gandalf character. Sneaky. Could have been a Slytherin, I think.’

oooOooo

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