Chapter XXIII: Slytherin Territory

‘How was your first night in the castle?’

Demeter looked up from her tea and saw Melvin Riverbed smiling at her. His blond hair was a mess, his eyes were puffy, and he looked very much as if he had just climbed out of bed. Not surprisingly, really, Demeter concluded. She was up early, and apart from her, there were only a handful of other students in the Great Hall: four seventh-year Gryffindors sitting at the far end of the table, drinking coffee, three sleepy-looking Hufflepuffs and seven diligent Ravenclaws, the latter comparing timetables. Melvin, it seemed, was the only Slytherin who was already up.

‘It was a very fine night, thank you,’ Demeter replied not completely truthfully. She did not feel like sharing her thoughts with her Slytherin friend just yet. She had to understand her feelings herself first, she thought. She was still feeing confused and had not yet made up her mind about her first meeting with her father.

‘How was yours?’ she enquired instead.

‘Awfully short.’ Melvin rolled his eyes. ‘Peeves decided to bang on the dormitory door all night. Our Head Boy had to go and fetch the Bloody Baron to shut him up.’

‘Who’s Peeves?’ Demeter asked.

Melvin smiled. ‘I keep forgetting that you have just arrived. Peeves is the castle’s Poltergeist. He hates me, and I try to stay out of his way.’

He cast a look over his shoulder, and then looked back at Demeter. ‘Seeing as none of my House mates are here yet, do you mind if I sit with you for a while? I guess your House mates won’t mind, but mine are a little ... selective.’

‘Selective?’ Demeter asked and indicated for Melvin to sit opposite her.

Melvin flopped onto the bench. ‘Some of my House mates think that it is, um …’ He broke off and blushed. ‘They think it's inappropriate to associate with other Houses ... well, with Gryffindors, mainly.’

He had said the last part of the sentence very fast, and Demeter raised an eyebrow. ‘And you don’t agree?’

‘Of course not,’ Melvin protested. ‘Just because Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor hated each other’s guts a thousand years ago, doesn’t mean Slytherin and Gryffindor House have to hate each other for all eternity. And besides ...’ His cheeks went from pink to crimson, and he cast down his eyes. ‘I’d come and sit with you even if you were in Hufflepuff,’ he muttered.

Demeter had the good grace to cast down her eyes as well and smile under the cover of her raven black hair, pretending that she had not heard him. But in the pit of her stomach, she felt butterflies flutter their tiny wings once more. She had had the same feeling on their way to King’s Cross station, when her mother had jokingly asked her whether she were smitten with Melvin. Demeter had scowled then and resolutely denied that possibility. But now she wasn’t entirely sure anymore. Certainly, if she didn’t care for Melvin in that way, his little confession wouldn’t have such an effect on her, now would it?

Silence settled over the part of the Gryffindor table where the two friends were sitting while each of them feverishly tried to occupy themselves with something. A piece of toast fell victim to Demeter’s crushing fingers, and Melvin drank one glass of pumpkin juice after the other, his own hands shaking so much that the jug clattered against the glass each time he refilled it.

‘Can I ask you a favour?’ Demeter asked quietly after a while, and Melvin snapped up his head to reveal a facial expression that suggested that he’d rob Gringotts if she asked him to.

‘My mother asked me to come and see her after breakfast, and I don’t know my way around the castle yet,’ Demeter clarified. ‘I was wondering if you could show me the way.’

‘Of course.’ Melvin was positively beaming. ‘You know, your mum, Professor duLac, has just moved her study down to the dungeons, right beside the Potions classroom. The dungeons are my domain, you know. I’d be more than happy to show them to you.’ Then he frowned. ‘Why are you down here already anyway? In the Great Hall, I mean. Don’t the Gryffindor first-years come here together with their Head of House?’

Demeter shrugged. ‘We’re not meeting Madam Hooch until after our first lesson. The Head Girl said something about it being character building for us to find our way to breakfast, our first class and back to the common room on our own.’

Melvin sighed theatrically and nodded towards the entrance. ‘Looks like only the Slytherin first-years need escorting.’

Demeter looked up and caught sight of all the first-years that had been Sorted into Slytherin the night before. Most of them looked rather sleepy still, but they also looked very excited. Demeter, however, couldn’t care less about her peers. Her eyes were firmly attached on the red-haired witch who was leading the group, and once again Demeter thought that she had never seen her mother look that way. There was a serenity over her Demeter had never seen before. And if she wasn’t mistaken, there was a smile playing around her mother’s lips as she directed the Slytherin first-years to their seats and made sure everyone had some food on their plates before she took her own seat at the staff table.

When Melvin excused himself and promised to come back after he had eaten breakfast to show Demeter the way to the Potion mistress’ office, Demeter just nodded absent-mindedly, her eyes still on her mother. Suddenly, she wished that she, too, had been Sorted into Slytherin. It just did not seem fair that those first-years had been allowed to spend the early hours of their first morning at Hogwarts with Professor duLac while she, Professor duLac’s daughter, had to wait until after breakfast.

~ ~ ~
‘You know, at home, I never have breakfast,’ Sarah explained and helped herself to more toast and yet another flavour of jam. ‘I always thought I did not like breakfast, but with that selection I think I can get used to it.’

‘My mother would throw a fit if she saw what I am having,’ Livia pointed out before sinking her teeth into a chocolate croissant. ‘She’s very healthy, my mum,’ she continued with her mouth full. ‘Thinks a bowl of fruit and a cup of herbal tea is what growing teenagers need for breakfast.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I tell you, it’s sugar I need! How about your mum, Demeter?’

From under the curtain of her black hair, Demeter sneaked a peek at the staff table. ‘My mother has tea for breakfast,’ she said quietly. ‘And toast with honey.’ At least, she thought so. That was what her mother had been having for breakfast the few times they actually had eaten together. Ever since her mother had returned from the Wizarding world six years ago, she had always been up before dawn, and by the time Demeter had her breakfast, she would already have been busy with something else.

‘Are you alright?’ Sarah asked and nudged Demeter softly in the side. ‘You’re awfully quiet.’

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ Demeter lied. ‘I guess I’m a little homesick, that’s all.’

Once more, she cast a glance towards the staff table, just to realise that her mother wasn’t there anymore. Probably, she had gone to her office and was now waiting for her, Demeter thought.

‘I’ll see you in Transfiguration,’ she told Sarah and Livia. ‘I want to go and say hi to Melvin.’

‘You’re going to the Slytherin table?’ Livia gasped. ‘I mean, it’s one thing to be friends with a Slytherin, but actually going to their table! That’s, um, brave.’

Demeter smirked. ‘Isn’t bravery one of the most valued traits of our House?’ Besides, she had no reason to be intimidated by any Slytherin. So far, she had not had any problems with any of them. But when she approached the Slytherin table, a very tall and very broad boy stepped into her way. Had he been one foot taller, Demeter would have sworn he had troll blood in him.

‘Hey, little Gryffindor,’ the boy sneered, towering over her. ‘Not lost, are you?’

Demeter felt an unbidden feeling of fear rise inside her chest but defiantly put out her chin. The hall was full of other students, and the teachers were sitting only a few feet away. That big bully was not going to be able to do anything to her except maybe engage into a battle of words. But judging by his silly grin, Demeter doubted that he’d be able to pronounce any word that had more than three syllables. She would most certainly win. She was just about to give the boy a biting answer when someone she knew appeared at his side.

‘Could you at least try to be civilised for a change, Miller?’ Argyle Makdoumi grabbed the tall boy by the shoulder and smiled his unattractive smile at Demeter. ‘Excuse us for a moment,’ he added before turning to the boy, talking in a low tone. But Demeter still heard him.

‘Wrong Gryffindor to pick on, Miller. That is the Snape girl,’ Argyle whispered, and Miller’s mouth fell open. ‘You know what we’ve been told.’

Maybe it would have been wiser to pretend that she had not heard anything, but Demeter’s curiosity got the better of her. ‘What have you been told?’ she asked, loud enough for several Slytherins to look up from their breakfast plates.

Argyle seemed to hesitate for a moment, but when he turned to face Demeter, he was once again sporting that smile of which he certainly thought that it was charming. ‘You’re a friend of Melvin’s, Demeter Snape. And if you’re friends with one Slytherin, that means you’re friends with all of us. Isn’t that right, Miller?’

Miller nodded, his mouth still open. He more and more resembled a troll.

‘Now, what gives us the honour of having you visit our table?’ Argyle asked, his voice so sugary that Demeter could barely resist the urge to wrinkle her nose.

‘Maybe she wants to see for herself if we Slytherins really drink snake blood for breakfast.’

Melvin stepped between Argyle and Demeter, first giving Argyle a dirty look and then winking at Demeter, who felt a sudden rush of affection for the boy. Argyle was at least one head taller than Melvin, and that Miller bloke looked like he could crush Melvin with his dustbin lid-like hands. But still Melvin stood up to them both. For her.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ Melvin said, taking Demeter by the hand and pulling her after him just like he had done on the train the day before. But this time, Demeter didn’t mind.

‘You don’t, do you?’ she asked once they had left the Great Hall.

‘Don’t do what?’ Melvin asked.

‘Drink snake blood for breakfast.’

The moment Demeter had uttered the words, she realised how stupid they were and wished she had kept her mouth shut. Of course Slytherins did not drink snake blood. Not for breakfast or any other time of the day. Why on earth would she even ask?

Melvin looked back over his shoulder, his face serious. ‘There are rumours that the Gryffindors have lion liver for tea on Fridays,’ he said. ‘Is that true?’

‘How would I know?’ Demeter burst out without really thinking about what Melvin had just said. ‘I just arrived yesterday.’

‘You’ll tell me on Saturday morning, right?’

Then Melvin couldn’t keep a straight face any longer. He started grinning, then laughing, and Demeter couldn’t help but laugh with him once she had realised that he had been pulling her leg all along. And even when they were both bent double with laughter, Melvin did still not let go off Demeter’s hand.

The stairs that led down to the dungeons were dark and steep, and the torches on the walls cast eerie shadows. A gloomy place, Demeter thought, and had she believed the stories one of the older Gryffindors had told the first-years in the common room the night before, she would probably have been scared and expected some ghost to jump at her. But she had already met a Slytherin ghost and knew that they weren’t all that frightening. And besides, she was with Melvin. Nothing would happen to her.

‘The Potions mistress’ office,’ Melvin announced as they stopped in front of a heavy oak door. ‘Do you want me to wait for you?’

Once more, Demeter felt a warm feeling wash over her, and all she really wanted to do was give the boy in front of her a hug. But she did not dare. What if he thought she was acting silly? Instead, she shook her head.

‘You need to go to class,’ she said, and then assured him that she would do just fine when he asked her if she would find her way back to her common room. But her hand felt strangely empty when he let go of it, and she looked after him until he had disappeared in the dark corridor that led to the Slytherin common room. Only then did she knock on the door of her mother’s office. When she was told to enter, she stepped inside.

She did not really know how she had expected the room to look like, but when she closed the door behind her, she was slightly startled by the office’s gloominess. Not even the fire that was burning in the grate seemed to be able to light up the room. But when she caught sight of some of the glass jars that stood on the shelves along the walls, Demeter was quite glad the room wasn’t illuminated. She wasn’t sure that she really wanted to get a better look at the things that were floating in some of those jars.

‘Your father’s collection,’ came the familiar voice of her mother out of the shadows, and Demeter flinched slightly. She had not seen her mother when she had entered the room. But there she was, sitting at her desk and behind her … Demeter blinked. For a moment, she thought that she had seen the silvery outline of her father’s ghost. But now it was gone, as if it had been swallowed by the semi-darkness.

‘How was your first night at the castle?’ Morgaine asked, rising from her chair and walking towards the two armchairs by the fire, beckoning Demeter to join her. ‘Did you sleep alright?’

‘Yes, I slept just fine,’ Demeter replied, for the second time that morning not answering that very question completely truthfully. And her eyes kept darting back to the spot behind her mother’s desk where she had thought she had seen her father’s ghost. There was nothing, though, not even a shadow or a trembling in the air. But if he were there, she did not want him to know what kind of feelings their meeting had awoken inside her heart. She did not want him to know that she was afraid that she had made a bad first impression. She did not want him to know that she was afraid that he did not like her. If he did not know, he might give her a second chance.

Demeter sat down in the armchair opposite her mother and accepted the cup of tea she was offered. She did, however, turn down the toast. ‘I’ve already had breakfast,’ she declared.

‘I happen to know that most of your breakfast toast was crumbled between your fingers, little one.’

Demeter’s eyes widened, and she looked at her mother, trying to figure out how she knew.

Morgaine smiled kindly. ‘If you don’t ask me how I know, then I will not ask you why you felt like turning your breakfast into bird food.’ Once more, she held out the plate. ‘There’s honey on it,’ she coaxed.

At the promise of honey, Demeter’s stomach gave a loud rumble, and she accepted a piece of the toast, nibbling on it as if it were the most expensive sweet from Honeydukes. She had always loved honey. The smell of it reminded her of her childhood. Actually, one of her most treasured memories was of her mother feeding her toast and honey under the birch tree by the river. She must have been very little then.

‘Did you receive my gift?’ Morgaine enquired, and Demeter nodded eagerly, pulling out the Phoenix pendent from under her uniform, holding it in her hand for her mother to see.

‘Dumbledore owned a Phoenix,’ Morgaine explained. ‘His name was Fawkes. He had crimson feathers and a golden tail. I thought those colours would fit you, now that you have been Sorted into Gryffindor.’

‘Where is Fawkes now?’ Demeter wanted to know.

‘He disappeared the day Dumbledore was laid to rest,’ Morgaine answered, her eyes firmly on the pendent. ‘No one knows where he went.’ She closed her hand around Demeter’s. ‘This Phoenix, little one, is a charm. It will protect you. And I beg you not to take it off.’

‘Why would I take it off?’ Demeter enquired. ‘It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned.’

‘Do I have your promise then?’ Morgaine asked.

Demeter nodded gravely. She did not understand why this piece of jewellery was so important to her mother, but she did not ask. If her mother wanted for her to know more, she would certainly tell her. But Morgaine didn’t mention the Phoenix anymore. She did not, however, take her eyes off it either.

‘You said those jars were Father’s collection,’ Demeter started instead, attempting to break the awkward silence that had settled over them. ‘Was this his office then?’

Morgaine nodded. ‘It was his office for almost two decades, and now it is mine.’

‘So the other Potions professor did not use it?’

‘No, Professor Slughorn preferred a brighter study.’

‘I can understand him,’ Demeter pointed out. ‘It’s quite ...’

‘Dark? Gloomy and creepy?’

Demeter blushed slightly but nodded.

‘It is indeed a dark and gloomy place,’ Morgaine started, looking around the study. ‘But for me, it holds a lot of memories. Your father and I became friends here.’

Demeter looked up at her mother, not daring to make a single sound. Her mother spoke so rarely of Severus Snape, and Demeter did not want to miss the opportunity.

‘I didn’t come to Hogwarts before my fourth year,’ Morgaine continued. ‘Your father was my Head of House, and it was his job to make sure that I learnt everything I needed to know to keep up with my peers. I spent many nights down here, studying hard and trying to impress him. Sometimes I feared it was impossible.’

Demeter swallowed hard. Had her mother also found it hard to impress Severus Snape?

‘I once spent a whole evening doing nothing else than cutting up hellebore,’ Morgaine recounted. ‘I seriously thought that he hated my guts and had given me this task out of spite. Some days later I was the only student in my year to receive an O for my Draught of Peace. The others didn’t know that the plant needed to be cut in the exact right way.’

Demeter shifted in her chair. ‘How will I be able to impress him?’ she asked quietly. ‘He isn’t likely to make me cut hellebore or brew a Draught of Peace.’

‘No, but I might.’ Morgaine leant forward and cupped her daughter’s chin with her hand. Two pairs of blue eyes locked, one pair kind, the other slightly fearful.

‘Just be yourself, Demeter,’ Morgaine advised. ‘Show him that you are proud of who you are. Show him that you have a mind of your own. And most of all, don’t let him scare you away. Show him that you are a true Gryffindor and brave enough to face him even when he tries to chase you away.’

Demeter felt her mother’s eyes look right into her soul and blinked fiercely. It was silly of her to believe that her father had sent her away because she had dared telling him that the Hat had Sorted him into the wrong House. Surely, he had heard that before. And he had told her that he wouldn’t mind meeting her again.

‘Do you know why I asked you to come and see me here, little one, in the gloomiest room in the castle instead of my private chambers?’ Morgaine asked. Her voice was so soft, so warm, and Demeter suddenly felt like a little child that had just awoken form a bad dream and wanted nothing more than to be in her mother’s arms. Slowly, she shook her head.

‘This is your father’s old study, the place where his ghost resides,’ Morgaine explained. ‘He wanted you to know, so you can come and see him whenever you want, little one. All you have to do is call for him.’