Chapter 227 - I Fight Polaris

"Huh?"

Polaris stood in the Headmaster's office and made a puzzled sound.

Professor Snape was going to transfer her "usage rights" to Slughorn. Just because the old man was overworked?

Professor, that's not right. Am I not overworked too? Polaris screamed inwardly. She hurried to express her protest through eye contact alone: Are you serious?

Snape returned a look of confirmation.

No way. Polaris shot back a hostile glare.

Snape shook his head, almost imperceptibly, signaling that he had no better solution.

"Ah — of course." Polaris smiled. "It's all in service of Hogwarts, after all!"

Slughorn let out a hearty laugh. "Madam Pomfrey was right — you really are a kind girl!"

What? Madam Pomfrey had a hand in this too?

Polaris felt a deep, personal sense of betrayal.

Lately, her energy had gone mainly toward monitoring Dumbledore's Army's movements, teaching Astoria practical combat, softening Pansy Parkinson's attitude, and studying for N.E.W.T.s.

As for Dumbledore's Army stealing the Sword of Gryffindor, she had never intended to get involved from the start.

Though, not participating was itself a kind of favoritism. Professor Snape's odds of winning were extremely high, and he had gone easy on Harry and the others before.

Astoria was a clever child. She learned quickly and could already use many common dueling spells.

Polaris had also begun quietly cultivating certain Slytherins who were dissatisfied with Voldemort's policies, mainly among the fifth-year half-bloods.

Some people might wonder: were there really Slytherins dissatisfied with Voldemort's policies?

Of course there were. Wasn't Pansy Parkinson panicked about the possibility of Polaris being taken away as a Muggle-born witch? She was one of Polaris's chosen targets.

Another target was Meryl's boyfriend. A sixth-year Slytherin named Evan.

Meryl was a Muggle-born Slytherin. Almost no one had sympathized with her disappearance, and no one empathized with Evan's grief.

But Evan did grieve. He knew exactly what kind of person Meryl was, positive, optimistic, beautiful, and formidable.

Slytherin had always propagated the idea that Muggle-borns were beneath them. Meryl was never swayed. She studied hard and threw herself at every new thing that came her way.

"Meryl signed up for the Quidditch trials," Evan said. "Every year. Right up until last term."

Evan had first met Meryl at those trials.

"They won't take you," Evan had told her, not to mock her, but because he meant it. "You're Muggle-born. And a girl. The last time Slytherin had a female team member, we weren't even in school yet."

"Which school rule says that?" Meryl's round face was full of defiance. "Which rule says the Slytherin Quidditch team can't want someone like me?"

"It's tradition. There's no written rule because it doesn't need one."

"Exactly. And once I win a spot, I'll be the precedent."

"This is just the reality," Evan had said, trying to reason with her. "You're wasting your time. Just go back."

Meryl had stepped onto her broom and lifted her chin. "Mind your own business. I'll be the next Stella Stuart."

She did really well, truly. Evan thought she flew far better than those big lumbering boys. But she still wasn't selected.

"Actually," Evan had said quietly, "you flew well."

Meryl's bright eyes were full of tears. She murmured: "Of course I flew well. Of course I did. I owed myself that much, for all the time I put in."

Meryl's talent for Apparition had been average. She'd crashed all over the Great Hall again and again, looking like she was riding a runaway broom.

But she never gave up. Every free hour, she was back in there, running into people, running into walls. In the end, she scraped through the Apparition exam right on the line.

Evan's words had brought something back for Polaris. Meryl had once greatly admired Polaris's skill with Apparition. She'd asked for guidance several times.

"Which other Slytherin is as stubborn as her?" Evan said, sighing. "But Meryl always said — 'But I am a Slytherin.'"

"Whatever she is, that's what Slytherin is. Her being different doesn't mean she gets excluded from Slytherin. Slytherin never said difference wasn't allowed."

"In Hogwarts: A History, it says Slytherin also belongs to those with firm will and determination. Meryl said — that's her."

Meryl had told Evan she never regretted becoming a Slytherin. Setbacks were unavoidable. But what made Meryl who she was, was that she could get back up. Every single time.

She kept hitting walls, in every sense. And every wall she ran into became part of what she was capable of.

She never made the Quidditch team. But she built a strong body, an unbreakable will, and a spirit that simply refused to quit. That spirit was what kept her from giving up when Apparition felt impossible. It was what made her one of the few Slytherins to pass the exam on the very first attempt.

Polaris realized she had never truly understood some of the people in her house.

Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Nott, and Daphne were Slytherins. Draco, Marcus, Pansy Parkinson, and Astoria were Slytherins. She herself, Meryl, Stella, Regulus, and Professor Snape were Slytherins too.

Evan looked at her with something like surprise. "I didn't think anyone else would remember Meryl. I mean, you're so outstanding. Why would you care about ordinary Slytherins like us?"

"We're all Slytherins, aren't we?" Polaris said simply. "Meryl asked me for advice on Apparition. She was an extremely diligent person. It stayed with me."

"Ah." Evan's voice went soft with something that wasn't quite a smile. "That sounds like her."

"Honestly, I was surprised," Polaris said, her books tucked against her chest as she looked toward the Quidditch pitch. "I didn't expect the policy to be this strict. Meryl was a Slytherin. I thought they'd leave Slytherins alone."

They wouldn't. This was never about house. It was about blood.

"I thought so too," Evan said, head dropping. "We're all Slytherins, I thought they'd leave Meryl alone." He paused. "Prince, do you think there's any chance she could come back?"

Polaris shook her head. "No. Not unless the Ministry's leadership stops insisting on pure-blood supremacy."

"You mean," Evan caught her meaning, and his eyes flicked quickly around the corridor. "How... how is that even possible?"

Polaris smiled gently. "Just a hypothetical."

Evan let out a slow breath. His lips moved. Then, very quietly: "Actually... I've thought about that too. You won't tell anyone?"

"Of course not." Polaris's gaze was steady. "Meryl is a good girl."

Compared to Evan, Polaris would far rather have had Meryl still here at Hogwarts. It showed in who they were, right there on the Quidditch pitch that day. Evan wasn't as brave as Meryl. Not even close to as resolute.

But if Meryl hadn't been driven into exile, her fate unknown, Polaris might never have glimpsed the strength of Meryl's inner world through Evan's words at all.

In this world, you gain some and you lose some. That's just how it goes.

Back to the present. Polaris was actually fairly busy.

She hadn't expected that once Professor Snape became Headmaster, he'd pick up bad habits from Dumbledore and start treating her like she was Professor Snape himself.

Slughorn had patted his chest and announced he'd secured a little helper for Polaris, someone to share the workload.

Polaris had been curious. She wondered what kind of assistant Slughorn planned to find for his new assistant.

The answer...

Polaris looked at Ginny, expressionless.

Ginny pulled two shredded leaves off her cloak and tossed them into the corner wastebasket. "Slughorn told me to assist you."

Which, honestly, made a weird kind of sense.

Ginny was serving after-class detention for the Sword of Gryffindor incident, and she was a member of the Slug Club who knew Slughorn well enough. Put both together, and the only possible candidate was always going to be her.

"Slughorn is in class," Polaris said. "Weren't you assigned weekend detentions?"

Ginny pressed her lips together. "Slughorn said this counts as a substitute." A beat. "You knew we were going to fail the whole time, didn't you?"

"Given your skill level, yes." Polaris smiled. "That small bucket over there is your task."

Ginny had heard that Polaris took on a lot of work for Snape. But this was the first time she'd actually seen Polaris work.

Several cauldrons were going at once, Polaris moving between them with both hands in constant motion. During the wait times between reactions, she handled semi-finished preparations that students would need for class.

While she worked, Polaris was almost entirely silent. But the focus in her, the absolute, unhurried concentration, gave her a quality that was difficult to look away from.

In potion-making, Polaris didn't seem to have a single moment of hesitation. No pausing to think. She simply moved from one action to the next: decisive, efficient, and precise.

"Done looking?" Polaris said coolly, without glancing up. "Or did you want to stay a little longer?"

Ginny startled and quickly dropped her gaze to the bucket.

About an hour later, Slughorn returned. He beamed at Polaris's finished work. "Polaris, you have the same gift as Headmaster Snape did at your age! Among your peers, no one does it better than you!"

"You flatter me." Polaris wiped her hands with a handkerchief and returned each tool to its place. "Professor Slughorn, I'll be heading back now."

"Off you go, off you go!" Slughorn waved a hand. "How's Ginny getting on?"

"Almost done!" Ginny called back.

And she wasn't wrong to be impressed by herself. Polaris's pace was genuinely fast, outside of the necessary reaction times, she'd had almost no idle waiting at all.

All those potions. Given to a fifth-year like Ginny, it would have taken her an entire day and she still might not have finished.

Not that Slughorn couldn't do it himself. Last year he had set up over a dozen large cauldrons right in the classroom, teaching students to identify potions while quietly getting through the preparation work at the same time. The man knew how to manage his hours.

But having Polaris as a resource had made things considerably easier.

He found himself recalling something Dumbledore had said: that Polaris would make a very good Potions professor someday.

Ability, wisdom, perseverance, patience, Polaris had all of it. She'd also spent years studying under Severus directly.

She was well-suited for it, truly. Only... Slughorn thought, with a small pang of regret, the Dumbledore who had said so was no longer here.

A few days later.

Polaris was walking along the fourth-floor corridor when she noticed the floor was covered in water. It looked like Moaning Myrtle had developed a particular fondness for the fourth-floor bathrooms.

"Hss—"

Filch was clutching his lower back, hissing through his teeth, his face twisted in pain. In his hands were a wrench and a section of pipe that was noticeably the wrong color.

"Blasted students..." Filch muttered something under his breath, so low and garbled it sounded like he was gargling.

It was a familiar enough scene by now. Dumbledore's Army was making trouble all over the castle; the Carrow siblings were dragging people off all over the castle; Filch was patching things up all over the castle.

The class they were heading to now was another Dark Arts lesson with Amycus Carrow.

Frog had fully recovered. But today's lesson was not going to stop at having students harm a small silver arrow-frog or a salamander, Polaris was increasingly certain of that the longer she looked at the malice in Amycus's eyes.

"Today is a practical lesson." Amycus pitched his voice low, and it came out like something hissing. "I want you to split into pairs. One-to-one."

Aside from that very first lesson, had Amycus held even a single theory class?

Polaris grabbed Pansy Parkinson's arm without hesitation and pulled her into a pair. Most of the room did the same, house-mates with house-mates, close friends clustering together.

"No, no, no, no!" Amycus dragged the word out and shook his head. "What's the fun in pairing with people you know? I want you paired with students from other houses."

"Slytherin with Gryffindor. Ravenclaw with Hufflepuff. Anyone left over gets matched up with whoever's left."

Pansy's hand tightened around Polaris's and then flinched. Her eyes were practically vibrating. "I..."

"See that girl wearing a headband, same as Millicent?" Polaris said quietly. "Her name is Lavender Brown. Her spellwork is fairly average."

Lavender and Parvati were pressed together in a tight little cluster, looking just as tense as Pansy.

They glanced left: Crabbe, who looked like he'd been assembled from boulders. They glanced right: Draco, who had been throwing around Serpensortia since second year.

While the two Gryffindor girls were still whispering to each other, Polaris steered Pansy Parkinson over and stopped directly in front of them.

Lavender nearly collapsed on the spot.

I have to fight Polaris? Was this real?

Both Lavender and Parvati were suddenly, vividly recalling the last lesson, Polaris, cold and steady, casting the Cruciatus Curse on a helpless little frog, her wand hand absolutely still.

"Parvati..." Lavender said, stumbling over the word. "What do we do?"

She turned her head. Parvati was gone. The person standing next to her was Neville.

Neville leaned close and spoke quickly under his breath. "I'll take Prince. You take Parkinson. Can you manage?"

Lavender screamed inwardly: Parvati, where did you go? How could you leave without me?

➤ Next: Crucio — Steel and Blood