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Interesting Facts


October came about with it’s crisp air and falling leaves and a notice went up on the common room boards, boasting of the first trip to Hogsmeade coming up at the end of the month. It was all that the students of Hogwarts in the Third Year could talk about, even at the Slytherin table. “Heard Avery’s got an appointment at the Hog’s Head,” whispered Evan Rosier over breakfast, “The Dark Lord’s going to send one of his Death Eaters with instructions for the Knights of Walpurgis.”

Regulus Black looked eagerly at Barty Crouch, who sat crammed up close beside him, and a gleeful expression passed between them. “Do you know when you lot will be recruiting new members?” Regulus asked with excitement.

“Dunno,” Evan said with a shrug, “That’s up to Avery.”

Severus chewed his food carefully, “He’s going to want everyone to watch Dumbledore’s coming and going,” he said when he’d swallowed.

Evan looked at him, “Why would the Dark Lord give a damn about Albus Dumbledore?”

Severus shrugged, “Dumbledore’s a mighty powerful wizard, isn’t he? I reckon he’s the Dark Lord’s greatest challenge to defeat. The wizarding world adores him and he defeated Grindelwald and all. Seems a logical next step.”

“The logical next step is taking down the ministry,” argued Dimitri Goyle, waving his oatmeal filled spoon. “Kill the minister and the whole thing comes falling down like a tower with it’s foundation ripped out.”

“This minister ain’t that powerful,” disagreed Walden McNair. “She ain’t got the belly to stand against the Dark Lord anyway. Why waste the time in killing her when she’ll bend to will? Besides - what are a bunch of students supposed to do to take down the Minister of Magic? We at least got access to Dumbledore.”

Regulus pointed at Barty, “We want to join the Knights,” he said. Evan Rosier looked them over, then turned back to his eggs without comment. “Barty’s dad is sort of a big deal at the ministry. That could be of interest to the Dark Lord.”

Evan looked up and glanced at Walden McNair, one eyebrow raised.

“What kind of a big deal?” McNair questioned.

“He’s Head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department,” supplied Barty.

“What? You mean he’s an auror?” said Alabaster Jackson, a second year.

Barty shook his head, “I mean he controls the aurors. Any auror acting on official ministry business was given his orders from my father.”

Walden McNair looked impressed. “Could be useful,” he murmured, “I’ll mention you to Avery.”

Regulus elbowed Barty excitedly. “See?” he said, “You can fight for the Dark Lord with us.”

McNair scowled in Regulus’s general direction, then looked down at his plate. “Don’t be so sure you are automatically in yourself, Black,” he said.

Regulus looked over at him, surprised, “Whyever not? Mother and Father are among the Dark Lord’s most loyal followers.” He fancied telling McNair how the Dark Lord was currently being served by his house elf back home, and how, if that didn’t make him a shoe-in for a place among the Death Eaters, then little else would.

“With a blood traitor brother like yours, the Dark Lord will certainly want to make sure it’s not some sort of curse on the family, I reckon,” McNair sneered.

“If you notice, I’m seated right here at Slytherin with you, aren’t I? If I was a blood traitor like my brother, I’d be over there at the Gryffindor table, talking to muggle-borns and whatever other riff-raff he befriends.” Regulus’s tone was cold and just as sharp as Walden McNair’s.

“Yes, well, I’m sure the Dark Lord will favor a bit of proof from you before he fully trusts you - if he ever does,” McNair said, shrugging.

Regulus snorted, “Oh I’ve got the proof the Dark Lord needs. I have quite a lot of information that would most definitely interest the Dark Lord quite a bit, actually.”

“You’re eleven years old, how could you have any information that the Dark Lord would give a bloody hell about?” demanded Antonin Dolohov.

“Let’s just say that I’ve learned a lot of very interesting facts about my brother and the friends he keeps.”

Severus looked over at Regulus, actually somewhat interested in what he had to say. “Did you?” he asked, “What sort of interesting facts? Do enlighten us.”

Regulus shook his head, “You’ll run off and tell the Dark Lord yourself without giving me a lick of credit. I’m not an idiot.”

Severus’s voice was even, “I don’t need your information to give the Dark Lord.”

Regulus stared at Severus evenly. “I know you don’t,” he said. “I know all about you.”

Antonin Dolohov was just about to shove a large piece of toast into his mouth and at this, the jam slipped from it and fell down the front of him, making him curse and look down to sweep it away. Likewise, several other faces had swung in curiosity from Severus to Regulus and back again, including McNair’s and Rosier’s. Regulus smirked and picked up his napkin from beside his plate, wiping his mouth, as Severus considered him for a long moment, feeling all of the others’ eyes on him. “You don’t know anything about me,” Severus said cooly.

Regulus laid his napkin down. Barty’s eyes were on his friend, wide with excitement and nervousness as all these older students paid them attention. Regulus’s voice was low, “I know a good deal more than you think. Mother and Father talk, you see. I know quite a lot about you and all the other things that the Death Eaters are up to.”

A murmur rippled through the Slytherins that surrounded Regulus and Severus. Had Regulus Black just called Severus Snape a Death Eater? Was it true? Would the Dark Lord ever consider recruiting someone so young, and why would he? What purpose could someone of that age ever serve the Dark Lord.

Severus stared quite squarely into Regulus’s face, and took a slow, deep breath.

Regulus’s lip quirked at the corner.

Yeah. I know what you can do, too.

Severus’s eyes widened in surprise. It was the first time he’d ever heard someone’s thoughts directed at him like that. He lost his concentration and pulled back from probing into Regulus Black’s mind. His expression had gone from one of contempt to one of shock. Antonin Dolohov was glancing about, waiting for something to be said, something to be done. Even Walden McNair looked hungrily at them, hoping for a duel. They were both disappointed when Severus stood up - “I’ve got to go. Transfiguration.” And with that, he walked away.

“What was that about?” Evan Rosier asked, looking at Regulus.

Regulus shrugged, “I don’t think Snape likes me much.”




The Hogsmeade notice was not the only one that had gone up on the board in the common rooms. James stood staring up at the Quidditch try-outs poster for about the hundredth time since that morning, excitement coursing through his veins. “Will you quit looking at that thing?” Sirius said, catching James by the elbow and tugging him along to the dormitories, “You’re a bloody shoe-in for the team after the tourney last term.”

“Yeah,” James said, “I reckon you’re probably right. But it’s just that Meg Johnson’s in Gryffindor, too.”

“So?” Sirius asked.

“So Meg was a Seeker in the tourney, too, remember?” James said, “Means there’s two of us going out for Seeker at least, and both of us are really good. What if I just got lucky at the tourney?”

“You flew like you were made of wind, James,” Sirius said. “You made a brilliant Seeker.”

James slugged his bookbag onto the floor by his bed, the flap popping open and all his books sliding across the carpet, along with a couple quills, a package of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans he’d won by doing a dare from Frank Longbottom, and a note that had been passed to him from a Hufflepuff girl who had flushed as she pressed it into his hand at the end of Herbology before rushing to her giggling friends. “Yeah,” James agreed. He had this funny sort of feeling inside him, he wasn’t sure what it was. He sat on the bed and nibbled the end of his thumbnail thoughtfully.

Sirius’s eyes narrowed at the way his mate was acting. “Of course, being fast like that is important for a Chaser, too.” He opened his own bag, switching out the Herbology text and his gloves for his Defense Against the Dark Arts book. He dug about, looking for the one for Charms.

James lowered his thumb and looked up at Sirius.

Sirius shrugged, “I’m just saying that your speed really opens up a few options.”

“I’ve always wanted to be a Seeker,” James said, a bite of nostalgia to his voice. “All my life, I’ve told my mum, I’ll be Seeker, you’ll see. My dad and I always played Catch the Snitch in the field. It’s the dream I’ve always had.”

Something about James’s lament sounded sad, not nervous, really, but more resigned. Sirius smirked to himself, “You’ve played both Seeker and Chaser positions now, though. It’s alright if you change your mind.”

“Change my mind? Bloody hell, why would I change my mind?” James asked.

Sirius shrugged. “I dunno, but if you did, it’s not as though you can’t play at the game as anything but a Seeker. I’m just meaning that you could keep your options open perhaps.”

The door opened and Peter came in, wet from having been out on the rainy grounds, collecting books that he had forgotten in the Greenhouses. “Remus wants us to bring him his books for Charms and Defense, he’s waiting in the Great Hall. He said the stairs were looking daunting this afternoon. I think he just didn’t want me to magic him without you lot.”

Sirius went over to Remus’s trunk to get the books.

“You’re trying out this term for the team, aren’t you?” James asked Sirius.

“Sure,” Sirius said.

James stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

“Aren’t you going to get your books?” Peter asked, changing his out.

“Yeah,” James said and he bent down to clean up the mess he’d made with his book bag, jamming everything but the books back in and leaned over to look under the bed for the other texts. His books were always laying about the room some place other than where they belonged. He found them and roughly shoved them into his bag, jumping up to follow the other two back out the door and down to lunch in the Great Hall. He paused at the notice board on the way through the portrait hole, looking up at the list of positions Woodhouse was taking tryouts for - everything except Keeper, which was his own position.

“Stop looking at the bloody poster,” Sirius said, ducking back through the portrait hole and grabbing James’s wrist to pull him out.