The Good Slytherin

Chapter Twenty-Three: Mark

In the weeks following Hogsmeade Weekend, Mark was as amazed as anyone by Daphne's transformation. Every morning that he saw her for breakfast, he had to remark that whatever Dumbledore had said to her, it had quite the effect. Mark could have easily dismissed the haircut as superficial, but it was the final catalyst she needed to put the headmaster's words into action.

As much as he would have liked to forget, they still had Malfoy to contend with. The Imperius Curse incident had put them all on edge and fostered heightened vigilance. By the end of March, they still didn't know why Umbridge had taken a keen interest in the Slytherins. Marion's theory was that the Dark Arts Defense teacher was using Malfoy and cronies as spies. "Umbridge is paranoid about subversion," Marion said arrogantly as she flipped through her illegal copy of the Quibbler. "She's been reading all the owls that come in and out of Hogwarts. A package from my mum arrived this morning and it had been opened."

Mark nodded his head. Though he was enjoying their truce, he was bored and antsy that night for some unknown reason. His homework was done and the common room was surprisingly quiet for a school night--Malfoy was nowhere in sight, nor were his cronies. Instead he was stuck with Marion, who was reading him snippets from the Harry Potter interview in the Quibbler.

In fact, where was Daphne? Snogging Nathan Price perhaps.

"Do you know where--"

"She's in the library, Mark," Marion sighed with a faint air of disdain as if she had been expecting him to ask that question ages ago. "Didn't she tell you?"

He resisted her subtle baiting, resolving to be good and not fling back a well aimed quip. Instead he departed the common room and made the long journey up the endless flights of moving stairs to the sixth floor. As expected, Mark found Daphne in the library studiously surrounded by a stack of books, short hair tucked behind her ears and tapping a quill against her lip. He was still getting used to her with short hair.

"Don't tell me you are already studying for your O.W.L.s," he groaned as he joined her at the table. From the looks of the occasional medical diagram, Tristan had been there also. The library wasn't exactly the epicenter of fun he was hoping it to be.

She shook her head dismissively, failing to look up from her book. "Listen to this, Mark: 'There is significant historical evidence that the popularity of blood purity is largely cyclical. For instance, the first half of the 1800s saw a decline in this particular brand of discrimination, coinciding with an era of progressive values and political stability. However by the end of the century, there was a resurgence in this practice, mirroring a rise in political dissidence. Though Slytherin has always been a haven for the believers in purity of the Wizarding race, there were many times when they were truly a minority within the house.' Tut. Professor Binns never teaches us this stuff."

Mark's eyes were threatening to glaze over. "Er, what does it mean?"

"I'm not sure, but it sounded interesting."

"Interesting if you like dull historical reads. Daphne, what on earth is all this?" he asked disdainfully as he picked up the first book from her stack. "A biography of Georgina Parsley? Blimey."

"I haven't got to that one yet. Still leafing through Slytherin in the Nineteen Century. Parsley, by the way, shrewdly made a fortune in publishing only to use most of the gold to set up a charity for orphans of magical disasters."

"I'm detecting a theme. Was she in Slytherin perhaps?"

"How did you guess?"

He folded his arms and sat back into his chair.

"Mark," she began in her familiar tone of exasperation, "don't you see?"

"You lost me somewhere around 'There is significant historical evidence . . .'"

She made a face, but there was an excitement in her eyes. "I'm learning about good Slytherins. Dumbledore gave me these to read."

Mark heard footsteps approaching from behind. He turned to see Tristan carrying a stack of books per usual, which he heaved onto the wooden table with a thud.

"Both of you. What's with all the books?" Mark asked with a frown.

"We're in the library after all," Tristan said with a smile.

"Very funny."

"Anyway, I'm bringing these back to Slytherin. The library is closing soon."

Daphne made a frantic noise. "I've got to check these out."

"I don't think you will have to worry about anyone else wanting them."

He got a glare for that comment.

"Oh Mark," Tristan began as he cleared the remainder of his things from the table, "I just so happened to be walking past the Room of--what is it called again?"

"Requirement," Daphne replied from behind her book.

"Right. Room of Requirement. Well, I was walking past from the Owlery and I noticed that someone must be using it because there was a door."

Harrumph. Could Zacharias be in there with some other boy? Mark was tempted to go up and see for himself.

"Mark, what are you thinking? I know that look on your face." Daphne now had her Slytherin history book completely down and was looking at him with reproach.

He decided to play dumb for a moment. "And what look is that?"

"The same look you had when you told me you were going to search through Malfoy's things."

"Aren't you the least bit curious about what's going on in the Room of Requirement?"

"I would be if I didn't think you were too busy trying to figure out if Zacharias Smith is there."

Daphne was getting good at this.

Tristan rolled his eyes as he slugged his schoolbag over his shoulder. "Well, you all are going to have to snoop without me. I've got to go back to Slytherin. Massive essay due tomorrow for Snape."

"Don't worry Tristan because we're not." She glared at Mark.

Killjoy.

As Tristan disappeared out of the library and Daphne gathered her books, Mark gave it one last shot. "Come on, Daphne. Just a quick look before we head back to the dungeons."

"Quick, right?"

"Honest."

She looked as though she were agreeing against her better judgment.

It wasn't a minute past eight and Madam Pince was already shooing them out. Daphne gave Mark one last look of reproach as they climbed the marble staircase for seventh floor. He was wracked with curiosity and wouldn't be satisfied until he at least had a look upstairs. Just as Tristan had said, there was a door opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy where there normally was none. Muffled voices trickled from beyond the closed door and Mark found his hand reaching out for the handle. The metal was cool in his grip. All it would take was one little push . . .

"Mark!" she hissed and he let go. "It's only that stupid Zacharias Smith. Why do you care?"

He wasn't sure why he cared. Curiosity? Unfinished business? Jealousy?

"You are lucky I'm your best friend because--"

There were voices and footsteps coming up the corridor behind them. Daphne, acting quick, yanked on his arm and pulled him into a niche with an enormous vase in front of it. "What do you see?" she whispered, her small form tucked behind him.

He carefully tilted his head around the curve of the vase to see a group of Gryffindors enter the Room of Requirement. Not but a few moments later, two Ravenclaws made for the door. And then, lo and behold, Zacharias appeared followed by Ernie Macmillan and a couple of girls who he vaguely knew as Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones.

"Bloody pervert. He's got a whole group of them!" Mark said indignantly when the door closed.

"Who!"

Mark tallied off the names for her.

"You don't seriously believe--"

He raised a hand to silence her because someone else was coming. Harry Potter. It seemed that Daphne managed to see him too because she made a noise from beside him. As Potter opened the door to the Room of Requirement, a jumble of voices spilled out in the hallway. But the door shut just as soon as it was opened and now all Mark could hear was the sound of his breathing within the small niche.

"Okay. Now I am intrigued," she said as she tried to reposition herself in the small space. "What do you think that was all about?"

"I reckon the room must be used for things other than fab birthday parties."

Daphne crouched down and stuck her head out from the vase. "It's all clear."

Climbing out of the niche, they stood in the hall for a brief moment deciding what to do next. Go back to Slytherin? Stake out the hallway to see what was possibly going on in that room? They had all sworn after the Imperius Curse incident that they would be ever watchful, but this had nothing to do with Malfoy. He look towards Daphne--the same look of excitement was back in her eyes. Now it bordered on voracity.

She led him around the corner where they could get a good look at the Room of Requirement without being cramped in the niche. And if anyone came out, they could quickly hide. It seemed like a good enough plan.

Mark looked at his watch. Ten past eight. Whoever was in that room would have until nine before curfew would take effect and they would need to head back to their respective houses. He paced a bit, ready to duck back behind the wall in case anyone came out before then.

"Let's try not to look too suspicious here, Mark."

"You mean two Slytherins standing around for no reason looks suspicious?"

"I don't know. Move around or something."

Feigning interest, Mark poked at a tapestry depicting various magical creatures. Daphne meanwhile took up a sudden interest in the architectural elements of the seventh floor. As a sixth year Gryffindor passed by in his peripheral vision, he suddenly realized how silly they must look and he began to weigh just how badly he wanted to know what was going on in that room. And another glance at his watch showed that time was passing much slower than he had hoped.

She must have sensed his indecision. "You can go back to Slytherin if you want, Mark. I'm staying put."

That settled it. He was staying. "Not but twenty minutes ago I had to drag you up here. Now you are Little Miss Detective."

"Well look at it, Mark. A whole group of people from a whole mix of houses are using a room that you said yourself was supposed to be secret."

"Note that we didn't see any Slytherin students."

"Right and unless it is a meeting of the I Hate Draco Malfoy Club, I can't think of any reason why such a diverse group of people are gathering at eight o'clock on a school night in a room that no one is supposed to know about."

"If there really is a I Hate Draco Malfoy Club, I want to join."

Daphne rolled her eyes and continued. "So with Harry Potter there, maybe it's something important."

"Perhaps it's the opposite of what Malfoy is doing? You know, recruiting for the anti-Dark Lord side?"

"We can only hope."

The minutes ticked by and they waited in silence for something to happen. Mark meanwhile explored the long corridor, noting that there were two tapestries, four landscape paintings, a suit of armor that tried to pinch him more than once, a door containing a girls' toilet, and the steps that led to the Owlery.

Around half past eight he gave up on looking inconspicuous and sank against a plinth with a griffin on it. Surprisingly, he could still see part of the door to the Room of Requirement if he tilted his head a certain way and closed one eye. The longer he sat there, the more he wondered what Zacharias had to do with Harry Potter.

"Mark, get over here," Daphne whispered disdainfully from the opposite side of the hall.

He grudgingly got up and joined her, not that her "hiding place" was any less obvious.

After some more time passed, he looked at his watch again--it was getting close to nine. Just as he sighed impatiently, Daphne poked him in the side.

"Look!"

He peered his head around the corner just as a house elf toddled up to the door of the Room of Requirement and opened it. Wondering why on earth a house elf would be joining the gathering, he saw something even more alarming, something that made his whole body go rigid--Draco Malfoy entering from the other corridor. The Slytherin prefect nosed around outside the Room of Requirement before sliding into the niche that Mark and Daphne had crouched in earlier.

Bugger.

Daphne must have also seen Malfoy because she was poking Mark repeatedly in the side, so much that he was about to beg her to stop when suddenly he heard someone shout, "RUN!" Students began to frantically pour out of the Room of Requirement as if their lives depended on it. Mark stood there dumfounded having not realized that so many people had been in that room--at least two dozen by his quick count. The rest of the Slytherin gang appeared from the stairwell, followed by a gleeful looking Dolores Umbridge.

Bugger.

Mark got the distinct impression that whatever was going on in that room couldn't have been sanctioned by Umbridge. "Daphne, we better run too," Mark practically shouted over the commotion. "This isn't going to look good if someone spots us."

"Wait." She had her wand out and Mark followed her line of sight to where Warrington was reaching for the collar of a blond headed Gryffindor. "Locomotor Mortis!"

Mark didn't want to stick around to see if the jinx hit the Slytherin chaser or not. He grabbed Daphne by the arm, but as he did, he collided with a group of Hufflepuffs. Dazed, he immediately recognized Zacharias and they stared at each other blankly for a few moments.

"What are--"

"No time!" Daphne cried at the Mark and the Hufflepuffs, wand still out. "We need to get out of here!"

But where? The Owlery? The stairway back down to the dungeons was blocked by the Slytherins.

"In here!" she shouted once they reached the door to the girls' toilet. He had never seen Daphne so decisive.

"You're not going to report us to Umbridge?" Zacharias asked, shocked. Apparently he thought Mark and Daphne were with Malfoy's gang.

"Of course not," she hissed. "Get in!"

Entering the lavatory, they frantically shut the door and Ernie Macmillan and Zacharias Smith threw their backs against it in case anyone tried to enter. Mark searched for something heavy to block the door. Unfortunately the only thing he could see was a rubbish bin--not nearly enough weight to prevent someone from discovering them. He thought about putting a locking spell on the door, but it wouldn't guard against someone using Alohomora.

They were trapped.

"Did you see Susan or Justin?" Zacharias asked, looking quite anxious.

Macmillan shook his head no. "I lost them in the crowd," he croaked.

Hannah Abbott turned to Mark and Daphne, still looking quite shocked.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"We're the good Slytherin," Daphne deadpanned, breathless a little from the mad scramble.

"You mean you weren't with Malfoy and Umbridge?"

"Certainly not. Best not to mention that you saw us."

"I don't think anyone would believe us anyway," Zacharias said a little snootily, back still pressed up against the door.

"Show a little gratitude, Zacharias," Mark said with a flash of anger.

"Do you know this Slytherin?" Hannah asked.

Zacharias seemed to want to say no, but instead tightened his jaw and replied, "Yes."

"We're going to be in as much trouble as the lot of you," Daphne reminded, her tone a little more diplomatic than Mark's. "The moment Umbridge or Parkinson finds us in here, they're going to think we were a part of that meeting of yours."

Mark crossed his arms. "So what was going on in that room, Zacharias?"

"Can't tell you."

"Look, we just saved you from Malfoy and you can't even tell us what you were doing in there?"

"He's telling the truth, Ferris," Ernie Macmillan added. "Hermione Granger did a spell so that if we tell, something nasty will happen."

"Which means someone must have blabbed if Umbridge knows," Hannah said, eyes wide, as if she suddenly realized something horrible. "Otherwise how else would Umbridge have figured it out?"

"I noticed that Marietta Edgecombe wasn't there tonight. Maybe it was her."

There was a pounding at the door and Mark didn't know how long Zacharias and Macmillan could hold it closed. The high-pitched whine from the other side hinted that maybe Pansy Parkinson had discovered their hiding place.

He could feel his heart starting to race.

"If she blasts open this door, that's the end of us," Zacharias hissed. "It's expulsion for the lot of us. No to mention were prefects."

"Wait! I have an idea." Daphne's green eyes light up. "You two hold the door. When I say go, let it open. Pansy should come barreling in here and when she does, we'll throw some spells at her."

"I've been working on my Stunners," Hannah added eagerly.

"Blimey. They teach you that in Hufflepuff?"

Hannah smiled innocently.

Zacharias, however, looked slightly disdainful. "Is your friend always this bossy?"

"Actually, no." Mark then went and joined Daphne and Hannah, who were crouching behind one of the open cubicles.

There was another pound at the door.

"What do you think, Mark? Are you still good at Banishing Charms?" Daphne whispered.

He grinned. "Flitwick says mine are ace. But I have something better in mind."

There was a pause and he could hear Daphne take in a long deep breath. He got out his wand as Daphne raised her own towards the door. Meeting the anxious gazes of both Zacharias and Macmillan, Daphne hissed, "Go!"

The Hufflepuffs flung open the door. In came Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode, wands out, but clearly unprepared for the ambush that waited.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Silencio!"

"Locomotor Mortis!"

"Stupefy!"

"Conjunctiva!"

Wands flying out of their hands, Pansy and Millicent didn't have a chance. Unable to walk, speak, or see, they crashed to the floor of the lavatory with a dull thud, bodies rigid. It was Hannah's Stunner knocked them out cold.

For a moment, no one said anything. Zacharias surveyed the scene, looking genuinely impressed. Macmillan, however, was more worried than shocked.

"We didn't kill them, did we?"

"Nonsense," Daphne replied, darting forward to see if the outside corridor was empty. "They can't move . . . or speak . . . or see. Nothing like death at all really."

"Do you think they saw us?" Hannah asked, seemingly surprised by their success.

Mark stepped from the cubicle and resisted the urge to walk up to Pansy and give her a good kick. "My Conjunctivitis Curse blinded them temporarily."

"How long till you think they will come to?" Macmillan asked. He crouched down, cautiously poking at Millicent Bulstrode's stiff arm.

"I don't want to be around and find out, do you?"

The Hufflepuff nodded his head. "Let's get out of here."

They stepped over the unconscious Slytherins and cautiously entered the corridor--it was empty. Slowly they progressed down the main staircase, all the while keeping a close eye out for trouble. Apart from a couple distant shouts, it looked as though the crowd had successfully managed to scatter. Before long their pace quickened until they were all standing safely on the ground floor.

Hannah broke the awkward silence. "I wanted to say thank you for saving us." Her words were sincere and it looked as though she were truly touched that two Slytherins would help them.

Macmillan and Zacharias nodded their heads in agreement, still looking kind of confused over the whole encounter.

Daphne, however, seemed like she was in her element. "No problem at all," she beamed.

And as the Hufflepuffs turned to head down to their house, Zacharias touched him on the arm and said quietly, "Hey, I wanted to say sorry for everything. You know, back last term."

Mark finally got his apology and it seemed easy to forgive now. "Don't worry about it."

Zacharias smiled. "See you around?"

"Of course."

When Hufflepuffs finally disappeared down beyond the staircase, Mark and Daphne headed quickly for their own common room, slinking in without incident. He immediately spied Tristan with his half abandoned Potions essay, engrossed in conversation with Marion.

"I'm going to bed," Daphne announced loudly with a grin.

Tristan looked up from his conversation. "Find anything, mate?"

"You wouldn't even believe me if I told you," he called out as he too headed for the dormitory. He went to bed that night feeling quite pleased with himself.