Work Text:
Eve of the 1st of September, 1971
"Black, Sirius."
"GRIFFINDOR!"
...
"Lupin, Remus."
"GRIFFINDOR!"
...
"Pettigrew, Peter."
"GRIFFINDOR!"
...
"Potter, James."
"GRIFFINDOR!"
Already four of the sixteen boys had gone to Griffindor whilst Slytherin had none, and they were barely more than halfway through the alphabet.
Lucius noticed that Narcissa was glaring at her house-traitorous cousin over her shoulder, rather than attending to the newly Sorted first-year girls. He discretely nudged her with a foot, recalling the younger prefect to her duties.
This was starting to unnerve him - there weren't that many boys left.
"Snape, Severus."
Please, let this one be a Slytherin. Griffindor have four, Hufflepuff three and Ravenclaw five already! He must be a Slytherin!
"SLYTHERIN!"
Sheer relief flooded the pure-blood prefect. Surely now that they had one, the last three would be theirs also? He warmly greeted the first male-Slytherin sorted, trying to overwhelm that longing glance the boy was throwing at the Griffindor table. "Half-blood?" he asked him, not recognising the last name. The pale boy nodded shyly. "Mother's maiden-name?"
"Prince," the boy disclosed, quietly.
"Well we are certainly glad to count the Half-blood Prince among our ranks." Narcissa assured the boy, kicking Lucius under the table for his surprised silence. He glared at her, but said nothing.
"Talbot, Robert."
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Lucius winced. Even Hufflepuff would have more boys this year than Slytherin.
"Urquart, Alastair."
Urquart is a pure-blood family! Come on, say Slytherin, he has to be a Slytherin! Don't say Griffindor. I know he's Scottish, but don't say Griffindor!
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
What!? Lucius glanced across the table. Okay, they had three girls at least. But Severus didn't seem all that interested in the girls on this table. He was too busy looking at a redhead who had been Sorted into Griffindor. "A half-blood friend of yours?" he enquired.
Severus shook his head. "Both of her parents are Muggles."
"A Mudblood? Yuck!" the most outgoing young Slytherin commented. "Ow!" she complained, as Narcissa pinched her.
"Don't use that word in front of the Headmaster," Narcissa hissed at her. "Unless you want to be the first person to serve detention. You'll lose us House-points all year if you don't watch your tongue."
"RAVENCLAW!"
The last girl was Sorted. Only the last boy remained.
"Zephyrus, Teagan."
He didn't recognise the name, but it sounded the part. No Muggle would be called that. He watched avidly as the boy sat down on the stool.
"SLYTH-! Hmm." the Hat interrupted its own rush to judgement.
Lucius held his breath. Even Severus had conceded to pay attention to his only possible dormmate. The whole hall fell silent as the Sorting Hat-stalled, half-pronounced. Lucius felt the Headmaster's gaze flit towards them, and discretely moved to try to shield Severus from the Legimens sight. The boy flinched, and huddled more closely into his shadow. Sensitive, this one. He glared at the Headmaster. 'How DARE you assault a first-year Slytherin!' he raged internally. The gaze moved on. He could prove nothing.
Whispers were breaking out as people from all the tables tallied-up for themselves that, of the boys, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had five each, Griffindor four, and Slytherin only one - not even a pure-blood one at that. They also had the fewest girls. It was humiliating.
"I'm sorry," the Sorting Hat eventually announced. "I'm not empowered to Sort a Muggleborn into Slytherin."
The fervid whispering gave way to a few screams of surprise as the Sorting Hat briefly caught fire, rather spectacularly. Zephyrus ditched the Hat - narrowly avoiding being drenched in water himself as he backed away down the hall - burning more metaphorically with humiliation.
Lucius looked to Slughorn, but the Head of Slytherin House was regretfully contemplating the contents of his goblet. What, they were going to expel someone for refusing to be a Griffindor? Dammit, surely being a prefect must stand for something! He stood. At Narcissa's look of horror it dawned on him that he had just literally stood-up for a Mudblood...
He was a dead man - his father would disown him. But it would be worse if he sat down again. That Legimens must have planted a suggestion in my mind. Yes! That must be it! He shot a look of unadulterated hatred at the most senior Griffindor present, but Dumbledore wasn't watching him, unlike the rest of the hall...
With the exception of Zephyrus, who was glaring at the occupants of the staff-table in general. The enormous window behind them imploded without warning, showering the staff with broken glass. Floating candles guttered, nearby students scooted away in terror, McGonagall raised her wand to cast a spell. Lucius was faster, disarming the Deputy Headmistress non-verbally as she hesitated to attack a student even in defence of students.
He turned his wand on the rogue, young wizard, ready to defend himself at the first hint of hostile reaction. Zephyrus, however, returned his gaze calmly, then bowed deferentially. Relaxing slightly, Lucius beckoned for him to approach with his free hand. The boy's eyes never left his as he made his way around the tables, ignoring the flustered staff and frightened students until he stood directly before the prefect. Only then did he drop his gaze submissively, looking straight ahead instead, his eye-line level with the seventh year's chest.
"Do you know who I am?" Lucius asked softly, curious at this behavior.
"I'm guessing that you are a prefect, because I don't know why else you would lower yourself to wearing a badge with a capital-letter 'P' on it. You've been privileged enough to be Sorted into Slytherin, so I suppose that must mean that you are at least a half-blood. However, if you aren't a pure-blood, then I feel sorry for them that are."
Smooth-talking little snake. "Why do you want to be in Slytherin?"
"That talking-hat immediately concluded that I was Slytherin material. Only, it couldn't say it aloud, even when I said I would rather go back to London than..." If his eyes were brightly fierce with controlled emotions, Lucius forebore to comment on it. "It's not my fault my parents are Squibs. And it's not their fault that they were born inert anymore than its mine that I was born active. It only skipped one generation, but my mother's family won't acknowledge me."
"Mother's maiden-name?"
"Zephyrus."
"Father's surname then."
"He has none. He was disowned."
"Do you know the names of your father's parents or not?" Lucius was starting to get annoyed.
"I would not shame them by claiming kinship when they would not wish to be claimed. I am proud to know that I descended from such esteemed lines. I am proud of my father, for not settling for a Muggle life. I would not dishonour them."
"What houses were they Sorted into?"
"My Mother's ancestors all went to Durmstrang, as did my father's mother. Grandfather was in Slytherin. Mother works at the Ministry of Magic in London, as a translator. Father is ... privately employed by Grandfather ... as a research assistant. My parents never married. They didn't expect me to develop magic."
"What is your father's first name?" Lucius asked softly, "You will do better with a double-barrelled name than no sire's name at all, if you are that set on being in Slytherin."
The boy frowned, "Quite the mouthful it would be, to introduce myself as Teagan Zephyrus-Draxon."
Lucius quietly took him by the arm and led him over to the wall, casting a silencing spell around them as he did so. "I have one final question. I need you to answer it truthfully, yes or no. No-one else will know what I asked. I will only ask it once and I will never mention it again. Is that something you are willing to do?"
Teagan contemplated this. "You want one free guess, answered yes or no. No additional questions to clarify your suspicions, and you'll never mention it again? Why?"
"Because I need to know this before I invite you to join us, or my father will disown me for letting a random Mudblood into the House of Slytherin, regardless of what you answer."
"You plan on telling him. Will he use this information to blackmail my grandfather?"
"Upon my family's honour, it will not be used as such, if you never tell anyone what I ask you."
Teagan sighed in resignation, "Ask."
"Is your grandfather's name Abraxas Malfoy?"
Teagan gritted his teeth, but nodded stiffly.
Lucius closed his eyes in denial, sighing softly as he shook his head slightly. Then he collected himself and held out his hand. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Lucius Malfoy, son of Abraxas Malfoy. I believe I have met your father, Drax, though I did not know he was my older half-brother. Would you care to join us? I believe that you will find your dormmate's ancestry equally fascinating, if for completely different reasons."
Teagan looked around Lucius at Severus, who was watching them with lively curiosity. "I would be honoured," he replied with absolute sincerity.
Cancelling the silencing spell, Lucius steered his half-nephew to sit next to him as he resumed his seat next to Severus, opposite Narcissa. He ignored the filthy looks that were being thrown his way down the length of the table. "I believe," he addressed the distracted, youngest daughter of Cygnus Black the Third, "That it might be prudent for me to make use of one of the many spare beds in the boy's first-year dormitories, until things settle down."
"I may join you," Narcissa remarked casually, continuing to watch as the Headmaster finished attempting to repair the damage to the structure of the building and egos of the faculty. "Amazing how easy it is to mend a window, as opposed to smoothing ruffled feathers. Speaking of which, we should show the first-years how to use the Owlery directly after the feast, before the rush. We should also explain Howlers before the breakfast table explodes. Hopefully you'll get so many at once, no-one will be able to hear what any one of them is shouting about. Always assuming that young Teagan here doesn't set fire to the hair of anyone stupid enough to call him Mudblood."
"It's not the name-calling that bothers me," the Squib-born admitted. "I've been Tea-Can and worse to wizards and witches most of my life. I've had to learn not to blow-up over everything, but they had to learn not to throw hexes because I got really good at wandless destruction. Better to scare the crap out of people in a dining hall, when everyone is together and the random magic is minimal - getting wound-up around dozens of bubbling cauldrons is not something I want to ever experience again."
Lucius winced. Malfoy Apothecary had only had one major disaster in the past decade, but it had been impressive in its sheer scale. "Please don't. Slughorn's pretty easy-going for a Potion's Master and Head of Slytherin House, but he can end your career before it even starts if you get on his bad side."
"He's not the only one who can do that." Teagan muttered, "I don't have high hopes of having a career, per se - I aspire to remain alive. Some days, that seems more achievable than others. Father says if I get really good at it, maybe people will get into the habit of chucking me into a disaster-zone and then waiting until the smoke clears, before they advance. He said not to join Griffindor under any circumstances, because I'll never survive Hogwarts without learning the Dark Arts, and being in Griffindor would mean that they'd try to castrate me with their piety. So what's your excuse?" he directed at the girls.
The loudmouth sniffed and addressed her neighbour, "My Daddy taught me better than to consort with Mudbloods."
"Well then obviously," Teagan rejoined snidely, "Some people have Daddies that are very smart men, burdened with airhead daughters."
Severus sniggered into his pumpkin juice. Lucius felt himself warming considerably to the two boys. Maybe he wouldn't rush to return to his own dormitory. Maybe quality was better than quantity, after all. He caught Narcissa's eye, and she smiled at him. This made him draw himself up proudly.
"Oh, good grief!" Teagan face-palmed, "I've got a popinjay for a sponsor. There's nothing worse than a lovestruck peacock to endure as a permanent companion."
Lucius looked down his nose at his inferior, "Mind your tongue, Zephyrus, or I'll hex the insolent thing into a permanent knot."
Teagan eyed him coolly, then conceded gracefully, "I apologise, Prefect. My words were out of line. I shall endeavour to find a straight edge with which to align them."
Lucius hurriedly swallowed the reply that leapt to the tip of his tongue. The boy was only eleven - it would be highly inappropriate to say such things to him, especially in mixed company. "Apology accepted, this time," he pronounced, with as much severity as he could muster to cover his internal embarrassment. It did not help that Severus was openly staring up at him.
"So," the girl sitting on the other side of Narcissa piped up, "Are you two together, like, boyfriend-girlfriend together?"
Lucius cringed internally and disdained to answer. The idea of discussing his love-life with a curious eleven-year-old girl was beyond the pale. If Narcissa should answer in his stead ... well it just didn't bear thinking about.
"Not you too!" Teagan butted in. "Can't we talk about something decent, like how to blow things up or not blow things up? Why do girls always want to talk about sex?"
"We do not!" the loudmouth protested. "It's boys that never think about anything else!"
"Yeah right!" Teagan rejoined, "All girls care about is how attractive they are to boys and which boys are already paired-off and how many babies they are going to have in their baby-factory houses while their husbands magically bring home more money so they can have even more babies! It's like the only thing girls ever want to grow-up to be is just like Mummy! How utterly bathetic! You never want to talk about cool stuff, like how magic actually works. All you care about is whether you can get married to someone rich enough that you can breed yourselves into fat, old women as soon as possible and be just like Mummy!"
"My Mummy is not fat!"
"Oh right. So she's still worried about looking good for boys, even though she's had you already? Not yet whelped a boy with half a brain to be Daddy's heir, then? Just airheads like you?"
Narcissa snatched away the wand that had appeared in the loudmouth's hand, even as Lucius forcefully pressed down on Teagan's far shoulder to keep him from rising to offer violence. The loudmouth and Narcissa silently glared daggers at each other.
"Now, now children," Lucius drawled, "Play nicely!"
"They started it." Teagan muttered, glaring defiantly at the gaggle of girls across the table.
"It doesn't matter who started it, it ends here!" the seventeen-year-old insisted, pressing his fingers into the nerve cluster between the boy's shoulder and neck. Teagan didn't make a sound, but he did reflexively raise his shoulder and try to twist away from the pain, colliding with the table and leaning back against Lucius, as the bench trapped him from completing the spin that would allow him to completely break that painful grip. Lucius changed his hold from shoulder to the boy's hair before Teagan could wriggle free, without forethought for how this type of discipline would look to observers.
Zephyrus winced at the firm grip to his hair, not trusting Lucius to bear his weight if he leaned back further. One hand already gripped the edge of the table, forearm braced against it. His free arm was pressed back against Lucius' side, trying to stop him from falling backwards. His outermost knee crashed against the underside of the table and his ankle smacked into the bench, as he fought to support his suspended bodyweight on already shaking arms in the middle of the aborted manoeuvre. "Uncle!" he protested through gritted teeth. Lucius released him instantly, struggling to hide his horror.
The quiet girl sitting next to the loudmouth snorted. In a drawl reminiscent of an American twang she commented, "What kind of Slytherin cries 'Uncle' so quickly?"
"One who can't remember the French for 'I yield'," muttered Teagan, smoothing his disheveled hair back into place. "Like I give a crap about girls being unimpressed by me conceding that a seventh-year is bigger and stronger and more cunning than I am yet. He's welcome to your infantile crushes over his physical maturity compared to mine! Like I'll ever be able to compete with a pure-blood anyway," he snarled.
"Oh, I don't know," Narcissa conceded with a sly smile. "There's something to be said for a male who isn't too dumb to know when to back off, rather than make things worse for himself."
Lucius stiffened in jealousy, his tentative camaraderie with his young relative flipping instantly to hatred at seeing his Narcissa smile at the Mudblood.
"Spare me your games, my lady," Teagan hissed with bare civility. "As if you would lower yourself to consort with the son of a Squib. I'm perfectly well aware that I'm here on sufferance. I know my place. Everyone in Slytherin will always outrank me, no matter what I do to distinguish myself. No matter how thick, or young, or inbred - the dumbest son of a witch or wizard is better born than me. Save your compliments for those who might benefit from them." Resentfully he resumed eating, trying not to choke on his own bitterness and pointedly ignoring the young woman.
Severus leaned forward to see around Lucius. "Why do you hate girls so much?" he enquired politely, "They're not all nasty."
Teagan regarded him with contempt, "Everyone is nasty. Some are just too pious to admit that they are. Sooner or later, you'll figure that out for yourself. Then all you will have are your memories of those innocent years before you were considered less than worthy. Count yourself lucky to have ever felt that merely being born, entitled you to anything. And don't copy me - I was born from bad-blood. All I can hope for is not to die too quickly because I can be smarter than the people who attack me, until the day I pick a fight I can't win and can't concede. Don't get attached - I probably won't live long enough to graduate from Hogwarts, and if I do, I'll just be cannon-fodder in whatever conflict I get caught-up in after that. I merely hope to live long enough to die for something worth the life of a wizard, because even Mudbloods outrank Muggles.
"Girls are for those fit to breed heirs, what possible relevance could they have for me? As long as the important people survive, that's all that matters. The future belongs to those who outrank everyone else," he nodded in Lucius' direction, "My blood is only valuable to me, but I will spend it as I see fit. To see the best of us succeed as a result of my sacrifice. I'd rather die, than be a Muggle-loving Griffindor, or bow to one," he flashed a look of unadulterated hatred at the Headmaster.
"And anyone," he glared at the loudmouth, "Who tries to tell me that I'm not worthy to be in Slytherin, just because they were born outranking me, I will MAKE them worthy of their blood-rank. I don't suffer fools willingly, but you ARE worth more than me. So you better live up to that, girly, if you aren't to be a disgrace to the name of Witch. Because right now, you are anything but bewitching with your ill-mannered conduct, and a dishonour to the one who whelped your airheaded existence. You can never be prettier than your manners make you ugly.
"Learn from her," he indicated Narcissa, "And you might actually be worthy of whelping a pure-blood's heir yourself, instead of settling for second-best. I don't want to be your friend. You don't need airheads twitting over how pretty you are - you were born with the right to be respected. Take it from one who wasn't - all the blood-rights in the world aren't worth shit if you don't have grace to back up that beauty. I've seen pure-bloods in action, and they are capable of being something that can leave you breathless if they wish to. You will never be that, unless you quit worrying about what your Mummy and Daddy told you, and start thinking for yourself."
He glared at his plate as the food vanished and the dessert course appeared in its place. "Salazar damn those over-eager elves, I wasn't finished! I hate sweet stuff." He discarded his cutlery with contempt. "And why are there boiled sweets, regardless of what else is on the table?"
Lucius waved his wand, summoning the savoury cheese remove from below. Part of the Prefects' duties at mealtimes were to deal with food allergies. He dropped his voice to soto levels, "It's code for the current password to the headmaster's office. I have a feeling that you will be visiting that place a lot, so you might as well know now. You'd be amazed at how few students figure that out for themselves. Even Ravenclaws."
"They probably don't get sent there often enough to have enough information to work with. Thank-you Lucius."
"Why not be in Ravenclaw?" the half-American asked Teagan. "They don't care about your blood-status, only how smart you are. Why slum it with us when you could achieve greatness there?"
Teagan curled his lip, "Greatness and winning acclaim, are two very different things. I may be nothing but a filthy little Mudblood here, but I would not lower myself to curb the filth that pours out of my heart, to be considered successful and acceptable by a bunch of soulless academics stuck-up in their ivory tower with their heads in the clouds. The worst of them don't care about anything but their own careers, their own discoveries and being acclaimed for it. They think that being born magical is enough. I'd rather bow to a pure-blood heir who can't count to twelve without taking off his shoes, than be snubbed by a Ravenclaw Mudblood who curries favour with the right people to try to prove himself equal to a pure-blood.
"But if you would think that my willingness to serve my betters, my conviction in knowing my place makes me a Hufflepuff, you would be equally ill-informed. I don't buy that bullshit that simply being kind and polite to everyone and working your balls off makes the world a better place. Have you any idea how high the suicide-rate is amongst former Hufflepuffs, compared to those Sorted into other Houses? They're like house-elves - if they can't serve, they would rather die. Only they believe that everyone is equal, therefore how can they know who is worthy of their hearts and souls? Their self-esteem tends to fall off a cliff after they graduate. I'd rather risk my neck trying to pull-off some half-baked scheme of a Slytherin nutjob, than become suicidal because I am forbidden to think of myself as being worth more than the lowliest Muggle.
"And as for Griffindor... THEIR charactistic flaw is to simplistically separate the world into 'good and evil' people. And they never outgrow that childish interpretation because they Believe it. They'd rather die than surrender to 'evil'. They would rather commit genocide of everyone they consider 'evil', because they are the only people who can truly be evil, by believing that they are Pure-Good. They hate pure-blood 'mania', because they see their zealotry for Purity reflected 'through a mirror darkly', straight back at them. They stand for everything they falsely accuse Slytherin of standing for, and they all become dangerous bullies who infect Slytherins with their accusations of impurity, until War must break out. They are all blood-traitors, by choosing to side with Muggles against their own kind!
"That War has already begun. If I survive Hogwarts, I will probably die fighting, for or against the very people I now dine amongst in this very hall. If I am to die, I will die serving in Slytherin's name, one way or another. I refuse to side with those warmongering Griffindors. Every Griffindor who outperforms a Slytherin is an enemy who has already proved themselves willing and eager to kill another witch or wizard to defend the narrow-minded bigotry of Muggles.
"I may be a Mudblood, the son of Squibs, but I am no blood-traitor. I know where my loyalties lie, and that is with our finest - with those who truly care about the future of wizardry, and have its best interests at heart. Salazar damned Godric for his short-sighted piety, but the women sided with Griffindor. Slytherin women need to be better than Rowena and Helga - better than that old lioness Minerva - or Wizardry and Witchcraft as we know and love it, will die and be lost forever."
Zephyrus stopped fiercely addressing his empty plate, to realise that the hall was strangely silent. He looked-up to see that the other tables were still animated with chattering students - he simply could not hear them. Beside him, Lucius was seemingly idly toying with his wand, as was Narcissa. Further down the table, other Prefects, and some fifth-, sixth- and seventh-years were doing the same. The rest were silent, not looking at him, but obviously they had been listening as fiercely as he had been speaking.
Convinced that the boy had finished speaking, or at least had said all that was needful at this point, Lucius drawled lazily, "Does anyone here contend this Mudblood's right to call himself a Slytherin?" No-one spoke up. "Then let us all consider this matter closed for discussion, especially outside of the common-room. Not a word to Slughorn, or you will answer to those beyond these walls who have reason to call this one more blood-loyal than most of you will ever be."
Slowly the noise of the hall returned, and Zephyrus quickly applied himself to eating, and stuffing his pockets with food, before this too disappeared before his eyes.
"Don't make a mess of your robes," Narcissa cautioned, "I promise you that no Slytherin has ever gone hungry for long. You're one of us now, so you can ditch those street-urchin manners."
Zephyrus didn't add anything more to his pockets, but he did not return the stolen food to his plate either. "You'll have to forgive me for not taking you at your word, my lady. I have no qualms about thieving to ensure that I won't go hungry in the arrogance of overlooking the need to provide for myself."
It stung Lucius to realise that his nephew had learned such self-defensive habits as privation taught. Yet, there was nothing he could say or do, to erase that history. Any act of affection that he had seen others offer under such circumstances seemed revoltingly self-serving and ineffectual in this context. At best, he would only know this boy for less than a year, and even then, only outside of classes. He could not afford to get attached - by the time these students graduated, any of those now present might be dead.
It was all Dumbledore's fault. All Godric Griffindor's fault. Why was it so hard for them to understand how dangerous it was to educate Mudbloods in the ways of magic? You might as well rile up a mob of Muggles, then snap your own wand and let them tear you limb from limb. At least Zephyrus has been raised knowing that magic existed. He hadn't been raised as a Muggle, merely expected to be a Squib. He would have to confront his father over how he had managed to sire a Squib, over the Christmas break. He'd be damned and disowned before he would let either of these boys stay here unguarded against Dumbledore's Legimency over the holidays. Both of them needed to start studying Occulmency as soon as possible. Which meant that he would have to talk his father into allowing his bastard Squib-born grandson onto the property...
"Now that you have all had chance," the Headmaster's opening words quickly silenced the room, "To settle down after a most eventful Sorting; the most memorable part of which, I am assured, has been resolved internally by the Slytherin Prefects, by securing the unanimous consent of the entire student body of their House to accept the first-ever Muggleborn student into Slytherin - a feat which would not have been possible, without the fine display of the very best of Hogwarts values in particular, by their sixth- and seventh-year Prefects, Narcissa Black and Lucius Malfoy. Both of whom, it is my very great pleasure to honour with fifty points apiece, for achieving such a feat of future, historical significance..." he paused to allow the eruption of loudly confused whispering to die down as he met Lucius' narrow-eyed gaze with a benign and congratulatory smile, "Yes indeed, a most monumental feat in these dark days. One which I urge you all to emulate. Whilst it is true that our founders valued very different qualities in those they personally chose to teach, it is wise to remember that these four were once such close friends that they chose to found this school together, fully expecting to remain friends for the rest of their lives.
"It is sad indeed when friends fall out and families squabble. It is most grievous, when such animosities lead to open warfare between those of us born blessed with a magical heritage. Yet, despite this, I support the wisdom of our founders in dividing the student body into these Houses. For it is just as important for each of us to be confronted by the distinct differences between us, as it is to find solidarity in the kinship of those who are like-minded to us. Overcoming these difficulties in how we are each to be celebrated as unique and yet, must each find comfort in being indivisibly part of a greater whole, is not something that can be learned from a book or taught in the classroom.
"Your years here, and the friendships you forge whilst within these walls, are just as important to the future of wizardry as the grades you achieve and the careers you may access by your studies. Whilst loyalty to your house and family is to be applauded, let none of us here forget that each and every one of us, is a living, breathing and wondrously magical creation that has but one lifetime to spend as best they can, being true to themselves and to each other to the best of their respective abilities. Thank-you, for your patience and attention."
"What did all that mean?" the loudmouth asked. Lucius was relieved to note that this question was not being addressed to him, but to Teagan. It appeared that the bluntly-spoken Squib-born had overcome the challenge of securing his first respectful frienemy.
"Ask me again when we get up to the Owlery," Teagan replied thoughtfully. "Such privacy as can be won here, is short-lived."