Year 5 Chapter 8

Professor Umbridge's lessons were starting to grate on my nerve. Though, considering how nobody had yet to get hurt, it was mere annoyance, and nothing more. Since it was imperative for me to access the Hall of Shadows, I had to double down on the secret passage. I understood Dumbledore's reasoning, even if I didn't query him about it. One other thing I missed were the talks with the professors, but as chagrined as they sounded, it was also true that if it didn't deal with homework, then I really shouldn't be taking up their time with pleasant tea chats during office hours.

There was a lingering sense of sadness in my mind as I finished the secret trap door and relatively booby-trapped stairway down, which would then feed into a veritable maze of corridors and tunnels, all carefully dug and propped beneath the Hogwarts' courtyard. Ironically enough, I wouldn't have been able to connect the tunnels to the castle itself, since the walls were protected from external tampering.

However, Salazar's own secret room wasn't like that. It actually stood below, and beyond, the castle. Thus as I reached, and breached, through a stone wall, I came face to face with my Draghuls.

They actually lolled their stony tongues out, eyes burning with pleased happiness at my sight.

"Did you miss me, my darlings?" I asked with a cheeky grin, stepping through and polishing the hole in the wall by transfiguring a thick metal door in its spot.

I had become Shade, the Builder.

One of the Draghuls neared its stony head, and as I gently rubbed it, it rumbled something akin to a purr.

I sealed the pipe leading up to the castle for my Draghuls, just in case the noises of my experimenting would reach all the way up through the walls. With that done, and vaguely making a note of unsealing it later, I began to work once more on my experiments.

"We need a way," I said, offhandedly glancing at a Draghul, "To make something similar to an anti-missile defense system," I threw a small pebble up in the air, furrowing my brows. "A launcher of sorts," I amenably added. "Which can self-target incoming spells."

The Draghul stretched ever so slightly, dropping down in front of my feet for me to rest my legs on its back, if I so wished. "Then, I need some form of battle armor," I continued, my eyes gleaming at the cheeky copyright infringement thing that rested propped against a wall, chainsaw-blade by the side. "After those are completed, I need a way to get them on and off, and-"

I rubbed my chin. "I will become Stone Man, the Iron Man of wizards," I snickered as I said that, my laughter echoing through the Hall of Shadows.

I felt at home within the lit hall, and as I yawned, I rested my weary head against the comfortable armchair, letting it lull me into a sort of half-dazed sleep. It was nice, being a good wizard.

What wasn't nice was trudging back through the tunnel, all the way up to the lakeside's shore, and then get through a miserable rain to get back into the castle, but I'd find a way to make things easier. The more points of access into a secret building, the easier for a spy to infiltrate them after all. Perhaps I could actually place a couple of well-thought out curses to scare off intruders.

Or maybe I'd have the walls move only to Italian words, or random key triggers that had absolutely nothing to do with the desired intents. Saying 'Gummy Bears' to get a wall to move to the right, for example, would never be parsed by anyone not in the know, unless you left some kind of silly reminder in paper form and then lost it, thus allowing the protagonists to enter your evil lair through that carefully laid out Deus Ex Machina.

As I thought about that, and quietly walked through the hallways, I heard a sniffling sound.

I inwardly winced as I moved towards the source of it, half-expecting another teen pranked by Peeves, since I had ensured that 'No Pranking on Students' was deeply ingrained into the Weasley Twins' heads before having them sign an iron bound, lawyer-approved, contract, the only ones still doing pranks were the random students and the Poltergeist.

What I found was a sniffling young Slytherin, standing against a wall with fallen sweets all around her.

Don't do this to me, Slytherin house. Please don't do this to me.

"Are you all right?" I asked as I knelt in front of the young girl.

The little girl's eyes widened as she realized someone was talking to her; she probably hadn't expected to find anyone at this hour of the evening around Hogwarts. One could eat as early as five in the evening and as late as nine after all; it was amusing how there was this table-open, hands-down policy whenever it wasn't the opening or ending feast.

"Y-Yes," she whispered, hastily wiping away her tears. "I just...my sweets just fell and-and now I can't share them with my friends anymore," she added.

"I see," I raised my index finger, made a whirlpool-like movement, and all the sweets floated right up in the middle of the air. I then hummed, snapped my other hand's fingers, and the light sheen of dust and grime on them disappeared, leaving them to sparkle as if they had never touched the ground. A few were cracked and broken into thin flat disks, though, as if they had been squashed down by feet, rather than fallen naturally. "There you go, now they're all prim and proper once more. Do you have a paper bag or something?"

The little Slytherin girl's eyes were wide as she saw the magic happen in front of her. "Y-You're Dumbledore's apprentice," she whispered in awe, her hands clutching on to a half-torn paper bag and extending it towards me.

"Was it the eye-twinkling thing?" I asked her with a chuckle of my own, "I never seem to realize when I'm doing that, you know?" I took the paper-bag, snapped it straight and fixed the tear, and then had the sweets float back inside. "How's Hogwarts treating you, little miss? Everything fine and dandy, or do I need to give the cross-eyes to someone?"

The girl pouted, "I'm not a kid, I'm in my third year, you know?" she huffed, the typical Slytherin pride moving to the forefront. I smiled, and helped her back up on her feet, before leaving the paper bag in her hands.

"Want to talk?" I asked, plopping my back against the nearby wall. "I'm a really good listener," I continued.

"It's nothing," she said instead.

"Considering the sniffles were heard, I don't think it's nothing," I quipped, "I promise I won't tell," I said. "Though I can't guarantee I won't act on the information you give me to whoop someone's ass, I can at the very least listen."

She quietly looked down, her ears burning red. "No, uh?" I said after a few minutes of tense silence. "Oh, very well," I brought my hand down and ruffled her hair, much to her immediate and clear displeasure. "Whenever you're in need, know that Hogwarts answers the call," I winked at her. "If nothing else because the castle itself can't stand people sniffling, and would rather have them smiling and laughing."

I walked away, knowing fully well that I'd end up walking into another mess, less I actually desired to get to a class, or to sleep. The stairways would move, the doors would slip away, and I'd end up watching bullies bully, or pranksters, or people yelling at one another over minor slights. The castle knew what I wanted, and delivered it in spades. I couldn't make Hogwarts a peaceful place, but I could at the very least try to get the children back in line.

Sometimes I came across hormonal teenagers in broom closets, while trying to reach a door that the day before led into an empty classroom, and those ended up flung out by their clothes and hung upside down for a bit.

Seriously, the only thing I was glad of was the extremely puritan mindset had everyone believe that snogging was the ultimate form of transgression at Hogwarts until, at the very least, marriage.

"I'm a perfect prefect, perfecting my perfection through perfect prefect work," I hummed, trying to form a tongue-twister from the 'Prefect' word, meanwhile finishing my rounds for the day.

A figure clutching on to their hand crossed my path, and I blinked at the strange sight. "Hermione?" I asked. "What's going on?"

Hermione smiled, weakly. "I guess you were right about Umbridge, Shade."

I neared and grabbed hold of her hand. There, gleaming in still fresh crimson, were words that made my blood boil.

I will not speak against my betters.

"You should go to Dumbledore," I said, "He'll do something about this, you're a Prefect, she can't just-"

Hermione shook her head, and then made a small, half-strangled sob. "As a teacher, she's allowed to. I asked professor McGonagall, and she was angry as hell, but-but there was nothing she could do. Even the Headmaster can't overrun a teacher's punishment. She can't expel me, but-but she can give me a Troll, make me repeat the class, do...do a lot of things."

"That's madness," I muttered.

"Wizards don't have an ounce of logic," Hermione agreed, bitterly smiling. "I-I still need to finish the rounds, and do the homework, and-and I've not eaten dinner yet, so..."

I gave her a quiet nod, and then snapped my fingers, "A certain Mister Umbril needs a set of sandwiches and something to drink, Oddment. Also, chocolate," I added as an afterthought.

With a sordid pop, a hand basket appeared in my hands. I handed it over into Hermione's good hand, much to her surprise. "Shade, this is-"

"Now you hush and be quiet, fizzy-hair," I said with a chuckle. "You get some dittany essence on the scar, treat it nicely, eat something, and go to sleep."

I smiled.

"Shade," Hermione said in a soft whisper, "It's not that bad of a thing."

I gave her a nod, a very slow, very deliberate, nod.

"Shade," she insisted, sounding strangely scared, "Shade please. It's not that bad."

I squeezed her shoulder, and moved past her.

Silly Hermione, do you really think I'd kill her just because she gave you lines to write on the back of your hand?

Do you really think I'd commit murder, and a cruel one at that, perhaps with a bit of torture, just because she hurt a child with physical punishment?

Do you really think that of me, Hermione?

You're not even one of my closest friends, Hermione. If it had been Megan, or Amanda, or Wayne, I would have butchered her like the horrible monster she is, torn her limbs apart one after the other, bled her dry on the altar of her precious ministry and burned her remains to ashes. But I won't. I won't because I'm a good wizard. I won't because I'm a kind, good, happy wizard.

I will not kill her, and I will not torture her.

The worst failure of criminals, after all...

...were those who publicly boasted their hatred for their victims.