The Good Slytherin

Chapter One: Daphne

Daphne Gordon pushed through the crush of family and children, dragging her trunk behind her. The very air felt electrified. Shouts, whistles, and luggage slapped against the pavement formed a cacophony that echoed under the train shed. Ahead, the Hogwarts Express loomed like a gleaming red beast and her stomach sank. She had been dreading this day all summer--more so than ever before--and trying to think up every excuse to delay her return. September arrived as it always did, in spite of her protests, and with it came time to pack and head to King's Cross. Her fifth year was about to begin.

Ever since Daphne had been sorted into Slytherin, she had dreamed of being anywhere but. It didn't help matters that she had made herself a pariah in the eyes of Draco Malfoy, who seemed to relish in making her life miserable. Oh to be clever and in Ravenclaw or brave and in Gryffindor. Surely the Sorting Hat had made a mistake--she wasn't the least bit cunning, or at least she thought she wasn't. But Daphne came from a long line of Slytherin witches and wizards and to be anywhere else would cause quite the uproar.

Breathing in the sooty air, she scanned nervously for a friendly face and made sure not to make eye contact with her tormentors Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, who were showing off their new prefect badges. Closer she moved to the train, past expectant looking parents and terrified first years. She knew how they felt.

"This year is going to be different. I just know it," came a voice from beside her.

Daphne's heart leapt and she smiled for the first time that day, turning around with frenzied excitement to hug her best friend and fellow Slytherin outcast. Though she hadn't seen him all summer, Mark Ferris seemed taller and quite tanned from his holiday in the south of France. His dark wavy hair had even grown out a little, sweeping into his brown eyes. Was it possible for someone to look so different after two months? "Blimey, look at you!"

He grinned devilishly with an air of self-awareness that she had never seen in him. "The French sun has been good to me." Such a smug answer; she had missed him, even if he wasn't the awkward and insecure eleven-year-old that she first became friends with.

A couple of third year girls giggled at him and it seemed that Daphne wasn't the only one to notice Mark metamorphosis. She didn't have the heart to tell them that Mark was certainly not interested and most definitely gay.

The train began to rumble throwing up puffs of white smoke from its funnel. As more and more students clamored into the cars, Daphne saw that it was nearing eleven o'clock. Her limbs felt weak and she willed herself to stay rooted to the platform.

"If we leave now, we can start our life on the run," she said with a hollow laugh as her eyes darted towards the exit.

"Rubbish. You're going to love Slytherin this year." She could tell that he was lying to her in that faintly overprotective big brother sort of way--it made her adore him more.

Motioning towards the stern looking couple watching them from the other end of the platform, Mark added, "Besides, Nigel and Portia are just over there and they won't be pleased if I run off again."

Daphne was well aware of Mark's growing disdain for his parents--a disdain that went beyond the usual teenage loathing. And having met them before, she could say with confidence that Mr. and Mrs. Ferris were an unpleasant lot. When they weren't bickering with each other, they were surely criticizing their son for not living up to the family standard befitting a Ferris heir. So she wasn't surprised to learn of Mark's unscheduled visit to a cousin's place in Provence over the summer. His owls describing the event had been vague, leaving her ever so curious, especially since she could have used a proper holiday herself.

"All right, but you have to promise to tell me all about France," Daphne replied. "I need to take my mind off this." She thrust a hand forward to where the train waited like Charon.

Heading for the first free compartment they could find, Daphne slumped down into the seat. The old familiar smell of the Hogwarts Express only reinforced her sense of uneasiness, so she ran through her mind of all the things that would sustain her through the term--from her friendship with Mark to the knowledge that she was another year closer to leaving Hogwarts. By June she was supposed to have a greater idea about what she wanted to do after school.

The train whistled loudly.

In walked a sandy haired Slytherin sixth year wearing a scowl and dragging his trunk. Tristan Connors was tall and skinny, only now starting to fill out a little. Normally quite affable and always one to finish Mark's jokes, something seemed a little off with him as he sunk down next to Daphne.

"You'll never believe who the two newest Slytherin prefects are this year," he croaked.

As if she could forget. "Parkinson and Malfoy," she groaned and slid a little lower in her seat as the train began to lurch forward.

"Both of you get those looks off your faces," Mark clipped as he waved his wand around. "And if you don't cheer up, I'll be forced to do a Cheering Charm on you two. Flitwick says my Cheering Charms are ace."

Daphne gave him a reproachful stare--the imp in Mark liked to put charms on people without their permission. She was still a little miffed about the week he spent practicing the Banishing Charm on her the year before. "Mark, I swear on the grave of my grandparents that I will hex you in your sleep if you do another charm on me."

There was a devilish glint in his eye. "Just you wait till we get back to Hogwarts."

"Since when did you become so chuffed about returning to Slytherin?"

"No more Slytherin talk," Mark said as he brushed his hair out of his face and leaned back into his seat. "For the next six hours, I don't want to think at all of Malfoy, Parkinson, or anything else along those lines. I just want to pretend that I am back in my cousin's garden in France."

"So how was it, mate?" Tristan asked, looking like he was finally beginning to lighten up. "Sounds far better than the time I put in at St. Mungo's as an intern."

"Yeah, who is this cousin?" she added. "I never knew you had family in France."

Mark gave her his familiar sly grin. "Well, no. It's a bit of a family secret." He paused for effect as the sunlight caught in his eyes. "My cousin Anna is a Squib. I only found out about her two years ago."

Though Daphne herself never really cared for this archaic fixation on blood purity, a Squib in the family was cause for scandal among the more traditional wizard families--and Mark's family was as traditional as they came. "Are you serious?" she gasped.

"Absolutely."

"A Squib in the Ferris family? Don't let Malfoy know," Tristan sniggered.

"Don't let Malfoy know what?" a voice echoed at the compartment door. Daphne's stomach did a small leap before she realized that it was just her own cousin. She watched as Marion Avery entered, her brown hair now about shoulder length after a summer cut. Marion's mother and Daphne's father were brother and sister.

"Oi Marion, where've you been?" Tristan asked.

"Down with my other friends," she replied stiffly as she slid the door shut. "So what are we not telling Malfoy?"

"Mark has a cousin who's a Squib," Daphne jumped in.

"But you're a pureblood! I knew there had to be skeletons in your family's closet," Marion added arrogantly. "And I'm sure Malfoy would love to find that out."

"Who cares if Blondie knows. It's not like we were ever mates or anything."

Mark and Daphne had long since developed a derogatory code name for Malfoy so they could talk about him freely in front of other Slytherins--Blondie.

"I might not care about blood purity," he continued, "but my family does. So naturally it caused quite the row with my parents when I went and visited her and her French Muggle husband."

"Let me get this straight. You lived with a muggle for six weeks?" Marion asked incredulously as she took a seat.

"Laugh all you want, Marion. It was brilliant. She was really cool and so was her husband--he's a historian. Can you imagine spending a month with a Muggle?"

Daphne sure couldn't. Her contact with the non wizard world was rare and usually limited to the times like today when she had to get through King's Cross to board the Hogwarts Express. "But why, Mark."

"Change of plans. If I spent another moment with Nigel and Portia, I would surely be in Azkaban right now."

"So did any of you notice anything strange going on this summer?" Marion asked. Mark's gave her a glare for interrupting.

"What do you mean?" Daphne asked, confused.

"I mean with the Dark Lord back. Did anyone notice anything strange? That's what the rest of the Slytherin students are talking about anyway."

If there was any conviviality in the compartment, it quickly evaporated as if a Dementor had entered. Tristan shifted anxiously in his seat, Mark cleared his throat, and a sinking feeling washed through Daphne. She hadn't really given it any serious thought, having seemed too far fetched. There were a couple of mumbles of it here and there over the summer, but did anyone take it seriously? Was Harry Potter telling the truth? Daphne felt herself shudder.

"Marion, remember I said that I wanted no mention of Slytherin or anything of that sort for the next six hours?" Mark quipped.

"Sorry. Must have been before I came in," she replied icily and turned to Tristan. "How about you?"

"My dad seems to think he is back, but You-Know-Who was a big second to helping out in the Potions and Plant Poisoning ward at St. Mungo's."

"And you, Daphne?"

She suddenly felt like an enormous light had centered on her. "The only strange thing I noticed," she replied, "was that I was supposed to go to New York with my father and he told me I couldn't go at the last moment. He was in America for all of July." She was still irritated at the memory. "But Marion, you can't be serious? You can't really believe that the Dark Lord is back? That Harry Potter isn't lying?"

"Of course," Marion shot back matter-of-factly. "Why shouldn't I?"

She recoiled. "But Mum and Dad haven't said one word."

Marion looked at Daphne like she was the last person to find out what everyone else already knew and for a moment she felt embarrassingly naive. Daphne's mind turned this reality over and over in her head. From where she sat, she noticed that Mark was taking a keen interest in this conversation.

"But Marion, how do we know the Dark Lord is really back?"

"Because I overheard Lucius Malfoy talking about it."

It wasn't her cousin who answered, but rather Mark. He had his armed folded and looked quite serious. All eyes in the compartment were on him.

"Where did you hear him say that?" Tristan looked particularly aghast.

"He came by in mid July, right before I went to France, and met with my parents for an hour."

Daphne felt a little hurt. Why hadn't Mark told her sooner?

"I heard Lucius Malfoy has been making special visits to some of the more important wizard families in Britain," Marion whispered. "Rumor has it that his visits are to generate support for the Dark Lord."

"Did Lucius Malfoy come to your house, Marion?"

"No. He didn't meet with any Gordons, if that is what you are asking. Maybe that's why you haven't heard anything," Marion replied, hinting that maybe Lucius Malfoy had met with the Averys instead.

"What else did you hear, Mark," Tristan asked impatiently.

"Not much. Though I could hear some things from the stairwell. Hogwarts was mentioned a lot and so was money and Death Eaters."

"So you are just saying something now about it?" Marion asked with thinly veiled irritation.

"Piss off. We're barely into our journey and I wanted to ease into the heavy talk," Mark snapped defensively.

Marion glared and sat back into her seat and Daphne was reminded that her patience was wearing thin with Mark and Marion's verbal tit-for-tat. Daphne was just about to tell them to quiet it when the door slid open. She was rather startled to see two Hufflepuffs standing in the doorway, prefect badges glinting.

"Er, sorry. Wrong compartment," said the taller of the two, who was blond. She wasn't sure who the boy was, but Daphne knew the other prefect was Ernie Macmillan.

They greeted the Hufflepuffs expectantly, but were met with a chilly reception in return. The blond prefect glared arrogantly while Ernie Macmillan eyed Mark and added sarcastically, "Nice tan, Ferris." They shut the door behind them.

Marion broke the silence by giggling and momentarily they forgot all about the Dark Lord.

"Looks like Macmillan made prefect," Tristan said as he nodded towards the door.

Daphne saw a flash in Mark's eyes and she knew immediately that he was smitten with the blond one. "Ooooh, but who was that other guy?" he asked eagerly. Mark had a habit of developing crushes on the oddest assortment of boys. In fact, it was his second year crush on Marcus Flint that outed Mark in the first place.

"That was Zacharias Smith," Tristan said disdainfully. "I think he plays Quidditch. You have always liked them conceited, didn't you, Mark?"

He grinned and said, "Guilty."

Daphne rolled her eyes.

It was another few hours before they came back to the subject of Voldemort. Once Marion had left to be with her other friends, Mark seemed keener to discuss the topic. "We need to be on our guard this year," he suddenly announced quite gravely.

Daphne, who was unwrapping a Chocolate Frog, looked up. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that with the Dark Lord back, things are going to get a bit dodgy in Slytherin this year."

It felt like a jelly slug was swimming around in her stomach.

Tristan leaned in. "Everyone knows that Lucius Malfoy is a Death Eater--never mind that rubbish story he put out about being under the Imperius Curse. The fact that he's been meeting with pure blood families around Britain can't be good. And his son just so happens to be in Slytherin with us, remember?"

"How can I forget," she mumbled. "But we're safe at Hogwarts, right?"

Mark thought about it for a moment. "I don't know. Thankfully Dumbledore is around, although that doesn't mean I won't be keeping an eye on Malfoy."

"Great plan," said Tristan. "He's a dim little shit, but not completely harmless. Who knows what his father might have encouraged him to do?"

"Maybe he'll use the Imperius Curse on us," Daphne suddenly blurted out, knowing full well it was a daft assertion.

Tristan looked pained. "There are some things you just don't joke about."

He was right. Daphne was reminded of Professor Moody--the previous year's Dark Arts teacher--and his insistence on having his students know what it felt like to be under the Imperius Curse. Just the mere memory of having control wrenched away from her like that was enough to make her shudder.

She studied Mark's face for some sort of sign or gesture to allay her worst fears. She didn't want to believe that her problems with Slytherin now went beyond its students and she definitely didn't want to believe that the return of the Dark Lord could have an effect on her tiny corner of the world. Her parents never discussed Voldemort with her and the events of fifteen years past had minimal impact on her family. Up until that point, the rise of Voldemort was an event relegated to the history books and the gossip surrounding the Boy Who Lived. But Marion's comments earlier proved that this was no longer the case.

"Keep your eyes open," was all he said.