Chapter 18: How to Dismantle a Family's Defenses
The next morning, Warren woke up naturally thanks to his internal clock, well-rested and in a good mood. The other two Slytherins in his dorm had been smarter than he expected. They had only come back last night to pack their things before moving to another room. Having a whole room to himself was really comfortable.
He got out of bed at five in the morning while it was still dark out. Warren washed up, changed into his robes, and left the dorm with Milo. As he passed through the common room, he did not see the prefect he had knocked out last night. He had probably been dragged away by his roommates. The fire was still roaring in the fireplace. It was the house elves' work, no doubt.
Warren did not linger. He pushed open the stone door and left the Slytherin common room. It was too early. The undisciplined students were still asleep. Warren wandered the empty corridors and courtyards for a while before finding a path down to the Black Lake.
He led Milo to the shore and patted her head. "Go play."
Milo bounded off, pouncing around on the grassy bank. Warren sat down, gazing lazily at the mirror-smooth lake, breathing in the crisp morning air. This was a good place to relax. If it stayed this quiet, he would come here often.
After spending some time with Milo, the castle behind Warren began to hum with activity. As he headed back, the Great Hall was already filling with early risers.
He spotted Hermione's bushy hair at the Gryffindor table from a distance. Milo recognized the girl she had met on the train and padded over. Hermione froze for a second, then seemed to recognize the cat. She turned quickly, and her eyes lit up upon seeing Warren.
"I have already memorized the timetable, Warren. Gryffindor and Slytherin have loads of classes together. I do not think the Sorting matters at all." She gestured excitedly. "Our first lesson today is Transfiguration. Have you prepared? I can lend you my notes if you want, or we could sit together in class."
Breakfast had already been laid out on the four House tables in a lavish spread. It was the only British meal Warren actually enjoyed. In addition to the usual sausages and bacon, there were scrambled eggs, grilled tomatoes, and beans. Even the selection of bread was dizzying in its variety.
Warren, wearing his silver and green Slytherin badge, sat brazenly at the Gryffindor table. He listened to Hermione chatter while he ate at a leisurely pace. Every Gryffindor who passed by did a double take, checking to ensure they had not wandered into the wrong place. Then, with strange expressions, they hurried away from the pair. The Slytherins at the nearby table kept glancing over.
Word of Warren knocking out the prefect with two spells had spread through the house overnight. Apparently the prefect had been hit with such a powerful curse that his roommates could not counter it. They had had to rush him to Madam Pomfrey overnight.
Everyone was reevaluating this red-haired Weasley. This was probably the Slytherins' only good quality. They worshipped power and status. In their pureblood upbringing, power and status were one and the same. Whoever was strong earned their respect.
Why on earth was he sitting at the Gryffindor table? Was contrariness simply encoded in Weasley DNA? It was infuriating. While many Slytherins wanted a word with Warren, none dared approach him. Instead, they directed their glares toward the Gryffindors.
The Gryffindors found the situation just as baffling. Out of deference to Percy, Fred, and George, they couldn't bring themselves to force Warren to leave. They retaliated with glares of their own. What should have been an ordinary breakfast had warped into a tense, silent standoff between the rival houses.
Unsurprisingly, the drama caught the attention of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Yet Ravenclaw, prioritizing self-preservation above all else, stayed well out of it. Hufflepuff was too laid back to wade into the conflict. As a result, no one fanned the flames.
Then Fred and George stormed in.
"Look, George. The Weasley snake. He is sitting at the Gryffindor table."
"You are right, Fred. How dare he, the traitor. And he has the nerve to show his face here."
They flanked Warren, arms crossed, trying their hardest to look angry and disappointed.
Warren tore off a hunk of bread and dunked it into his thick mushroom soup before taking a slow, deliberate bite. "Are you two sure you want to pick a fight with me?" He chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "Hmm. I seem to recall two people sucking up to me all summer long. I was so touched by their sincerity that I was going to slip ten Galleons into their Halloween package to support their little business venture." Warren turned and fixed his brothers with a solemn look. "But it seems they don't want it anymore."
The twins slowly lowered their arms, exchanging a wary glance.
"What do we do, Fred?"
Well, maybe we should forgive him?
Won't that make us look weak?
Ten Galleons.
Percy said yesterday that no Weasley's ever been sorted into Slytherin. Someone has to teach him a lesson.
They looked at each other again, then burst out laughing. "Who cares what Percy says?"
We certainly aren't doing this for the Galleons. But how could we turn down our brother's heartfelt support for our business? Right, Fred?
Right you are, George. So what if he's in Slytherin? Aren't they still Hogwarts students? Isn't he still our brother?
"Ahem. There are plenty of bastards in Slytherin, but our brother isn't one of them."
"Exactly, George." Warren smiled and stopped teasing them. "Is ten Galleons enough?"
The twins nodded eagerly.
"That's plenty."
"Perfect, Warren."
In high spirits, they grabbed a few slices of bread and hurried off, chattering in low voices about their new products. Once they were far enough away, one of them muttered, "There's never been a Weasley in Slytherin."
The other sighed. "What can we do? He's our brother, George."
He let out another sigh.
Well, that took care of the twins. Despite his calm exterior, Warren had actually been a little worried. Still, things hadn't gone nearly as badly as they could have. Of all the Weasleys, Fred and George were the most mischievous. At the same time, being closer in age, they were also the most protective of their younger brothers.
He had written to Molly and Arthur last night explaining his Sorting. He hadn't mentioned Occlumency. He simply explained that he and the Hat had discussed it and that he wanted to study Potions under Professor Snape. It was a matter of his studies, so with Snape involved, his parents probably wouldn't hold it against him.
He sighed. If he had been this clear-headed about relationships in his last life, he would not have ended up as some ordinary office worker. Warren sighed.
Then he heard Hermione beside him, speaking hesitantly. "Actually, I do not think being in Slytherin means anything."
He looked at her. Her face was flushed, but she spoke seriously.
"I have read Hogwarts: A History, A History of Magic, and Modern Magical History. Not one magical historian has ever said Slytherins are all bad. I do not think a Sorting Hat can decide if someone is good or evil. I even read in Modern Magical History about a really infamous Death Eater who was a Gryffindor."
Warren smiled as he listened to her earnest explanation, realizing she was really just trying to comfort him. He ruffled her hair. "Thanks, Hermione."
He didn't need comforting, of course. Still, having a thoughtful girl in his corner felt rather nice.
That pleasant mood carried him through breakfast and all the way to Transfiguration.
It was the first class of the day. Warren and Hermione arrived to find only a few students inside. Malfoy and his cronies were there, along with Neville, whom Malfoy was busy taunting. A tabby cat sat on the teacher's desk.
Seeing Warren, Malfoy and his goons instinctively shrank into the corner. Neville was grateful. He did not care that Warren was in Slytherin. He tearfully thanked him. "Thanks, Warren. You are the only one who scares Malfoy. I heard you really sorted him out. You are brilliant."
The tabby cat on the podium wore a very stern expression.
Warren's good mood vanished.
Thanks, Neville. If you could just shut up, that would be great.
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