chapter 16

The library was always quiet, filled with the soft rustle of pages turning and the occasional cough. I found solace in the silence, the towering bookshelves hiding me from the chaos of Hogwarts life.Today, I was looking for texts on Ruins. After the flying class, I've taken a really interest in the study.

I made my way to the area I was direct by Madam Pince, but as I rounded the corner of the shelves, I spotted them—the trio. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were huddled together at a table, talking in hushed voices. Normally, I would've ignored them, but something about their urgency caught my attention. They weren't just chatting about classes; they seemed to be deep in discussion about something serious.

Curiosity got the better of me, so I slipped behind a nearby shelf, close enough to hear but far enough to remain unnoticed.

"I'm telling you," Ron whispered, his voice agitated, "that thing under the trapdoor is dangerous! You saw the size of it—three heads!"

"It's called a Cerberus," Hermione corrected in a whisper, her voice sharp. "And Hagrid said it's guarding something. But what could it be?"

Harry's brow furrowed, his fingers tracing the edges of a book he wasn't reading. "I don't know, but whatever it is, it must be important. Dumbledore wouldn't let something like that stay in the castle unless it was really valuable or dangerous. Even more so that Snape is trying to get to it."

"You reckon it's some kind of treasure?" Ron asked, leaning in. "Maybe it's gold or jewels!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron, do you really think Dumbledore would let a creature like that guard treasure? No, it has to be something more important—something magical. I just wish I knew what."

I smirked to myself, knowing exactly what they were talking about but not saying a word. The Philosopher's Stone. I had recognized the hints from Dumbledore's start-of-term speech when he'd mentioned the third-floor corridor, and after a little digging, I'd pieced it together. The Cerberus was guarding the Stone, the key to immortality and endless wealth. No wonder Dumbledore wanted to keep it hidden.

But the trio hadn't figured that out yet.

Harry tapped his fingers on the table, thinking hard. "There's got to be a reason why it's so well-guarded. What if it's something dangerous? Something dark?"

Hermione shook her head. "If it were dark magic, Dumbledore wouldn't keep it here. He's always trying to protect Hogwarts from that kind of thing."

Ron sighed. "So, what do we do? We can't just ignore it. Snape is obviously trying to get his greasy hands on it. "

Hermione bit her lip, looking conflicted. "I'm not saying we should investigate or do anything rash, but we should at least keep an eye on things. If Hagrid's involved, it can't be too bad. But we need more information."

Finding the Introduction to Runic Language book, I decided to step out from the shadows. There was no point eavesdropping any longer, and frankly, I was curious to see how they'd react to me joining the conversation.

I casually strolled over to their table, feigning interest my ruin book as I approached.

"Professor Snape, Trapdoors and Cerberus, huh?" I said casually, watching as they all jumped at my sudden appearance.

Ron immediately scowled. "What are you doing here, Sayre? Eavesdropping?"

I shrugged, giving him a lazy grin. "It's a public library, Weasley. I couldn't help overhearing your little conspiracy theories."

Hermione looked more curious than annoyed. "And what do you think is under the trapdoor?"

I raised an eyebrow, pretending to think about it. "Well, considering the level of protection Dumbledore's placed around it, I'd say it's something pretty valuable. But as for what exactly… that's anyone's guess."

Harry looked at me, seemingly studying me for falsehoods. "You don't seem all that concerned."

I shrugged again. "I don't get involved in things that don't concern me. Whatever's under there, Dumbledore clearly thinks it's safe enough with that… creature guarding it."

Ron crossed his arms, still glaring at me. "And why should we trust anything you say? You're Slytherin—you lot are always up to something."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "You can trust me or not, Weasley, I really don't care. But if you're planning on getting involved with whatever is under that trapdoor, you might want to think twice. I'm just saying, being a chew toy doesn't sound all that pleasant to me."

Hermione shot Ron a warning look, then turned back to me. "You're probably right. It's none of our business. But… if we ever needed help—"

"I'm not interested in playing hero, Granger," I interrupted, keeping my tone light but firm. "I've got enough on my plate."

Harry studied me for a moment, his green eyes searching for something in my expression. "You know more than you're letting on."

I met his gaze evenly. "Maybe I do, maybe I don't. But like I said, it's not my business."

The silence hung between us for a few moments before Hermione cleared her throat. "Well, thank you for… your insight, I suppose."

I nodded and turned to leave, but before I did, I shot them a parting piece of advice. "Just be careful. Hogwarts is full of secrets, and some of them are better left alone. Though I'm sure you lot won't take my advice anyway, far to nosy."

As I walked away from the trio, content to leave them to their theories, Ron's voice suddenly broke the silence behind me, sharp and bitter.

"Wait a second," he called out, his tone filled with suspicion. I could practically feel the hostility rolling off him. "Why should we even listen to anything you say? You're Bellatrix Sayre's son, aren't you? That's all the reason we need not to trust you."

I stopped in my tracks, feeling cold knot forming in my stomach. Of course, Ron would bring that up. It was only a matter of time before he used my family's history as ammunition. I turned slowly, fixing him with a icy stare. His arms were crossed, his face set in that stubborn, defiant way of his, like he'd just uncovered some damning evidence.

Harry and Hermione looked uneasy at Ron's accusation. Hermione gave Ron a quick glare, clearly not thrilled that he was escalating things. But Harry, while not as confrontational, also seemed curious. He was still cautious of me, and Ron had just thrown gasoline on the fire.

"Yeah, that's right," I said flatly, not letting any emotion creep into my voice. "Bellatrix is my mother. But what's that got to do with anything, Weasley?"

Ron scoffed. "What's it got to do with anything? Your mum's in Azkaban for torturing people! She was one of You-Know-Who's most loyal followers. You really expect us to believe you're any different?"

I clenched my fists but kept my expression neutral yet cold. Ron's reaction wasn't unexpected, but it was infuriating all the same.

"I'm not my mother," I said, keeping my voice level. "I don't support what she did, and I don't follow in her footsteps."

Harry looked between me and Ron, his expression conflicted. "But… you're Slytherin. And your family—"

"Slytherin doesn't make me a Death Eater, Harry," I interrupted, with a cold glare. "And my family's past doesn't define me. We all know people who've done terrible things—that doesn't mean their kids are just like them."

Hermione, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken, spoke up. "Ron, that's not fair. Just because of his family doesn't mean Greyson's like them."

Ron shot her an incredulous look. "Oh, come on, Hermione! His mum's Bellatrix Sayre! One of the worst witches in history! How do we know he's not… I dunno, planning something? He could have learned all that powerful magic using some dark arts she taught."

I let out a low chuckle, unable to help myself. "Planning something? Taught by my mother? What, Ron, you think I'm conspiring with my imprisoned mother from Hogwarts? Please."

Ron's face turned red, clearly not liking that I was making light of his accusation. "You're just like Malfoy," he muttered, "thinking you're better than everyone else."

I rolled my eyes. "Malfoy and I have very different ideas of what makes someone 'better.' And if you're looking for a reason not to trust me, my mother's past isn't the best you've got."

Harry finally spoke up, cutting through the tension. "Ron, maybe we should… just drop it." He didn't sound convinced, but it was clear he didn't want things to escalate further.

Ron's lips pressed together in a thin line, but he didn't argue. He was still glaring at me, though, as if he was waiting for me to slip up, to prove that I was just like Bellatrix.

I met his glare head-on. "You don't have to trust me, Weasley. But don't assume you know me because of who my mother is."

With that, I turned on my heel and walked away. I could feel their eyes on me as I left, but I didn't look back. Ron would never see me as anything but the son of Bellatrix Sayre, and Harry was still figuring out whether or not to lump me in with the Malfoys of the world. Hermione, at least, seemed not judge me off my parental past.

With that, I turned on my heel and walked away. I could feel their eyes on me as I left, but I didn't look back. Ron would never see me as anything but the son of Bellatrix Sayre, and Harry was still figuring out whether or not to lump me in with the Malfoys of the world. Hermione, at least, seemed not to judge me solely by my family. That was something.

I made my way down the corridors of Hogwarts, thinking about what had just happened. It was exhausting, constantly having to defend myself against whispers of my lineage. It would be easy to hide who my mother was, but I refused to live like that. Still, it didn't make life at Hogwarts any simpler.

As I walked back toward the Slytherin common room, I overheard some older students talking about the upcoming Quidditch match—Harry's first game. Gryffindor versus Slytherin. The rivalry between the two houses was infamous, and this game was going to be intense.

The day of the Quidditch match arrived quickly, and excitement buzzed through the entire school. Gryffindor had high hopes for Harry as Seeker, and Slytherin, as usual, expected victory. I wasn't invested in Quidditch like most students, but the I can miss Hermione lighting a professor on fire now, can I?

I found a seat in the stands with the rest of the Slytherins, though I stayed on the edges, not particularly interested in the house loyalty everyone else seemed obsessed with. Draco sat a few rows down, already making loud, snide comments about how Harry was bound to fall off his broom.

"He's never even flown in a game before," Draco sneered. "Bet you ten Galleons he doesn't even last ten minutes."

As I found a seat in the stands, I caught a snippet of Draco's voice, already loud and obnoxious. He sat a few rows down, grinning smugly as he talked to his goons, Crabbe and Goyle.

I leaned forward slightly, catching Draco's eye. "I'll take that bet," I said, keeping my tone casual.

Draco's smirk faltered. "What?"

"You heard me. Ten Galleons that Harry catches the Snitch," I repeated, leaning back in my seat and crossing my arms. "I mean, I want Slytherin to win just as much as you do, but I've got this odd feeling we're going to lose today. Unfortunately."

Draco narrowed his eyes at me, clearly not expecting this response. "You're betting against your own house?"

I shrugged. "I've seen Potter fly. He's got natural talent. Besides, it's not about loyalty—it's about instincts. And my instincts are telling me Gryffindor's Seeker is going to pull off something impressive today."

Draco huffed, clearly irritated by my nonchalant attitude. "We'll see," he muttered, turning his attention back to the field.

The match began, and as expected, Harry flew with ease. He moved naturally, as if the broom was an extension of himself. Even though the Slytherin team played aggressively, trying to knock the Gryffindors off course, it was clear that Harry had an edge.

I kept my eyes on him, watching as he darted around the field, scanning for the Snitch. The crowd was on edge, the tension palpable as both teams fought for dominance. Draco, of course, kept up his commentary, making snide remarks every time one of the Gryffindors made a mistake.

Then, the moment came. Harry's broom jerked violently, swerving in the air as if it had a mind of its own. He clung to it, his knuckles white as he tried to regain control. I glanced over at the staff stands and saw Snape, his eyes locked on Harry, his lips moving rapidly.

"Looks like you're going to lose that bet," Draco said with a sneer, glancing back at me.

I didn't respond. My gaze shifted toward the teachers' stands, where I saw Snape muttering under his breath, his eyes locked on Harry. Most people would assume Snape was behind it. But I knew better. It wasn't Snape. It was Quirrell. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor sat nearby, looking nervous as always, but his focus was far too intent on Harry's broom.

I watched as Harry fought to regain control, gripping the broom tightly as it continued to buck and twist in mid-air. The Gryffindor supporters were in a panic, and even the Slytherins were too focused on the scene to gloat. My eyes flicked to the Gryffindor stands, where Hermione had spotted the same thing I had. She was staring at Snape, her face pale with worry. Suddenly, she jumped up and made her way down the stands, her mind clearly set on stopping whatever she thought Snape was doing.

Hermione reached Snape in no time, and with a quick spell, she ignited the hem of his robes. Snape yelped in surprise, patting out the flames. I shook my head slightly, amused. Hermione thought she'd solved the problem, but she had no idea. It wasn't Snape. But whatever distraction she caused was enough to break Quirrell's concentration.

Harry's broom stopped bucking. He regained control, though his face was pale, and he looked shaken.

I leaned forward with a smirk. "Looks like your bet's falling apart, Malfoy."

Draco scowled, watching as Harry regained his focus. "Potter's still going to mess it up," he muttered.

Just then, Harry's eyes widened—he'd seen the Snitch.

Without a second thought, Harry leaned forward and shot off at top speed, his broom flying faster than anyone expected. The Snitch was darting near the Slytherin stands, and Harry was gaining on it fast. The crowd held their breath as Harry closed in, but then something unexpected happened. He stood up on his broom, reaching out for the Snitch.

The excitement must have thrown off his balance because, in the next second, Harry lost his footing and tumbled forward, falling toward the ground. The Snitch fluttered just in front of him, still teasingly out of reach.

I watched, wide-eyed, as Harry plummeted toward the grass below. But just as the crowd gasped in horror, Harry opened his mouth—and the Snitch flew right in.

The stadium went dead silent for a heartbeat, then erupted in wild cheers. Gryffindor had won. Harry had caught the Snitch… in his mouth.

The Slytherins around me were too stunned to say anything. Draco, sitting just in front of me, looked absolutely livid. "He caught it… in his mouth?" Draco muttered, his face twisted in disbelief.

I chuckled. "Yeah, and now you owe me ten Galleons."

Draco turned, glaring at me, but there wasn't anything he could say. Harry had done something incredible, and even he knew it.

As Madam Hooch blew the final whistle, Professor McGonagall hurried onto the pitch, her face a mixture of sternness and admiration as she whisked Harry away. No doubt his flying talents had caught her attention.

The stands began to empty, and I walked out with the other Slytherins, though my mind was far from the match. While everyone else was talking about Harry's catch and celebrating or sulking, I couldn't stop thinking about Quirrell. Snape had drawn all the suspicion today, how unfortunate for him.

I knew Voldemort was biding his time, growing stronger with each passing day. And the Philosopher's Stone was still out there, hidden beneath the trapdoor guarded by that three-headed dog. Sooner or later, Quirrell would make his move again.

As I walked away from the pitch, the sounds of celebration fading behind me, I couldn't help but see Harry and the gang making there way down to Hagrids.

"Well, I'm bored anyway and can always get into ruins later. Might as well take a look at a dragon egg," I muttered to myself as I watched Harry, Ron, and Hermione disappear down the slope toward Hagrid's hut.

(AN: yes I know I messed up with the timelines when it came to the troll incident and Harry making the team, but hey I think it came out good enough trying to fix my mess. Anyway I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Have a great weekend!)