Draco sat in the best armchair by the fireplace, his expression stormy, with Crabbe and Goyle flanking him like a pair of very large and largely decorative bookends.
"Potter was taken away by Professor McGonagall," he announced to Pansy and Daphne as they came through the common room entrance, his voice tight with resentment. "Do you know why? She's recommending him for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Seeker. A first-year."
Pansy's eyes went wide. "A first-year? But that's against the rules."
"The Head of House can make exceptions," Daphne said quietly, settling into a seat beside Pansy. "If a student demonstrates exceptional enough talent..."
"Exceptional talent?" Draco's scoff was sharp. "He barely survived a dive without breaking his neck! Henry saved someone today, and he did it with considerably more—" He paused, searching for the precise word. "More control. Henry kept hold of the broom, managed the descent, made a proper rescue. Potter just hurled himself at the Remembrall like a man who hadn't weighed the consequences."
Pansy's eyes moved briefly around the room, then she said, with sudden energy, "If Potter can do it, why can't His Highness?"
Several nearby Slytherins turned their heads.
Draco straightened. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Pansy's tone quickened with conviction, "His Highness displayed extraordinary flying ability today as well. He saved Longbottom—his aerial control was precise in a way that simply doesn't look like a first-year's. If Potter gets a place on the team for catching a glass ball, why shouldn't His Highness Henry, who saved a person, get the same consideration?"
Daphne nodded slowly. "And the Slytherin team genuinely needs new players this year. Captain Flint has been saying so for weeks, particularly about the Seeker position."
"But Professor Snape doesn't know any of that yet."
The voice came from a short distance away. Gemma Farley, the fifth-year prefect, had been sitting with a book open on her lap. She looked up toward the group, unhurried and entirely composed.
"Professor McGonagall witnessed Potter herself. That's why she could act on it immediately. Professor Snape had classes this afternoon and wasn't at the flying lesson."
Draco's eyes sharpened. "Then we need to make sure Professor Snape finds out, Miss Farley."
"How?" Pansy asked. "Walk up to him and say, 'Professor, Henry flew very impressively today'?"
"Too obvious," Daphne said softly, winding a strand of blonde hair around one finger. "And it sounds rather like flattery."
Prefect Farley closed her book and rose. "It needs to be handled with more finesse than that. If done properly, it won't only open a door for Mr. Welsh; it will also make Professor Snape aware that while Gryffindor has secured a Seeker, Slytherin has a candidate of at least equal quality." She crossed to the first-years' group. "You were all there. What needs to happen is that Professor Snape learns the full account of this afternoon, but at the right moment and through the right means. The aim is not to petition him. The aim is to present the facts: specifically those that speak to Mr. Welsh's competence, composure, and his willingness to act on behalf of a fellow student."
"On behalf of a student from another House," Draco said, frowning. "That doesn't sound particularly Slytherin."
Farley's mouth curved into a faint smile. "Look at it differently. It demonstrates a breadth of vision and a quality of leadership that rises above ordinary House rivalry. And saving Longbottom has a second effect: it takes the 'heroic rescue' narrative away from Gryffindor entirely. They can boast that Potter caught a glass ball in a dive. We can point to a Slytherin student who prevented a serious accident."
Henry walked into the common room at that moment. He had changed out of his practice robes into a dark green indoor gown. The red marks on his wrists had faded considerably, though they remained visible on closer inspection.
Every eye in the vicinity settled on him.
"Good evening," Henry said, his tone unhurried, apparently oblivious to the charged atmosphere in the room.
He crossed to the empty chair by the fireplace and sat down. An invisible house-elf materialised a cup of hot tea on the small table beside him almost before he had finished settling.
Farley noticed this detail. One eyebrow moved, almost imperceptibly.
"We were just discussing," Draco said, his eagerness getting ahead of his composure, "that Potter has been chosen by Professor McGonagall for the Gryffindor Quidditch team as their Seeker."
Henry's hand, already reaching for the teacup, paused for just a moment before he lifted it and took a calm sip. "Is that so? That's good news for Gryffindor."
"Don't you think it's unfair?" Pansy leaned forward. "You flew brilliantly today. You saved Longbottom. If Potter can earn a place on the team, then so should you."
Henry set down his teacup with a quiet click of porcelain against the tray. His gaze moved around the expectant faces and settled at last on Prefect Farley, who was observing him with cool, appraising attention.
"A rule," he began, with measured care, "functions as a rule precisely because it applies to everyone equally. Professor McGonagall made an exception for Potter on the basis of her own judgement and her authority as Head of House. And Slytherin..." He paused. "We don't generally take pride in seeking exceptions for ourselves."
Draco opened his mouth. Farley spoke first.
"A sound way of looking at it. But there is a difference between asking for an exception and ensuring that those in a position of authority have the complete picture. Professor Snape has a right to know what kind of talent his House possesses, particularly when the competition has already acted."
"What would you suggest, then?" Henry looked at her directly.
"Continue your training with Flint," Farley said, her voice quiet and precise. "Demonstrate your ability on the pitch. In the meantime, what occurred at today's flying lesson will reach Professor Snape in the appropriate way and through the appropriate channel. Not through you, and not through your friends going to him directly—through something less deliberate than that."
"What channel?" Pansy asked.
Farley smiled, and said nothing for a moment. "The walls of Hogwarts have a way of carrying conversations, if one understands how to make them speak."
She nodded once to Henry. "Continue doing what you're doing, Mr. Welsh. Hold the ground you've built, and leave the rest to me."
She picked up her book, turned with quiet composure, and walked away, leaving the first-years exchanging uncertain looks in her wake.
"What does that mean, exactly?" Draco said, frowning.
"It means," Daphne said gently, "that she'll see to it that Professor Snape hears the full account of this afternoon, Potter's selection included, through channels that won't look as though they came from us."
Henry sat with his tea and said nothing.
He understood precisely what Farley was proposing, and he recognised it as correct. In Slytherin, a direct request was easily read as weakness.
Information that arrived through what appeared to be natural and unplanned routes was a far more sophisticated instrument. It was also, as Sir Arnold had observed more than once, how the most consequential things in any court tended to actually get done.
Of course, Farley's intervention had also been part of the plan. Everything, so far, was proceeding as Henry had intended it to.
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