With the start of October, the bitter chill had begun to set in as long sweaters and house colored scarfs began to crop up among the students, and an entire set of other problems with the transfer students in the third year. The first years and second-year students including the transfer students had fallen into a comfortable routine at Hogwarts and finally, their snake coils and sharp fangs began to be shown.
Unlike the Gryffindor first years, who were loud or broke curfew, the Slytherin first and second years were so much sneaker. They tended to sneak into places they shouldn't such as the forbidden section in the library, and find hidden passageways for fun, and then proceed to share it with each other as they popped up all over Hogwarts especially in places they had no right being in the first place.
And the was the least bit of it as even Slughorn and the new sub-Professor Eponine Mortimer had been forced to ward the dungeon potion's ingredients storage closet secure lest the curious little bugger's get their grimy, little thieving paws on dangerous potions ingredients! There had even been one such incident in the past week, where a third-year transfer thought it would be a grand idea to brew a polyjuice potion. The results had been terrible as the cauldron had exploded and somewhat seriously burned the three Slytherins, who had attempted to do so.
Professor Slughorn had been furious and had not only assigned the three Slytherin's detention for an entire month for almost killing themselves but had even docked thirty points from Slytherin. It had been that more than anything else that had forced the younger Slytherin's to become a tad tamer in their plotting. Oh, and plot, they would, it was in their very nature, but at least they wouldn't be suicidal about it, which did little to relieve Rowan and Severus concerns. Because all that meant is that the little venomous snakelings would just be that more careful and slyer about it.
Rowan and Severus were severely cursing under their breaths as they would rather deal with the problems that Lupin and Lily were dealing with such as their Gryffindor's breaking curfew, flying over the forbidden forest, and daring each other to touch the Whomping Willow's tree tuck. In retrospect, the Gryffindor's were like cute cruppies, while the Slytherin's were sly, and very wiggly, venomous baby snakes.
And then there were the third years especially the transfer students, which had Rowan and Severus swearing just as loudly for vastly different reasons. In fact, at the very moment, Rowan was bowing in apology very sincerely to the handsome sub-professor of Herbology, Professor Douglas Winfrey. The rugged man with dashing spiky hair, a crooked grin that could charm the birds out of the sky winks in reply.
"There was no lasting harm done, Prefect Prince," Professor Winfrey said.
"I can assure you, sir, there won't be a repeat," Rowan determinedly vowed with a dangerous glint in her eye as she turned to eye the four third-year girls behind her. Two of them were regular third year Slytherin girls, and the other two were transfer students in the same year but were for obvious reasons two years older.
The four girls guiltily glance down, but they still sneak bashful glances at the Herbology sub-professor from beneath their eyelashes. Rowan's eye dangerously twitches at their actions as she merely points at them to follow her, before stomping away. The four girls reluctantly follow Prefect Prince as they cast forlorn glances behind them all the way to the Slytherin quarters.
"Pudicitiam," Rowan snapped as the Slytherin girls meekly stepped inside. (Which was a bit ironic for two reasons, Slytherin's were anything but meek, and secondly, the Slytherin password of that month was Latin for modesty, aka chastity or purity. Apparently, they had not taken the hint.)
"Sit," Rowan icily hissed as she loudly said, "Everyone else, clear out! Except for all third years, who are to immediately report to the common room."
There is a pause until there is a wide scramble to depart from the common room. None of them were stupid enough to protest otherwise. Because the older Slytherin's years had preservation instincts which the younger years at present seemed to be severely in lack of. Some hurried to barricade themselves in their dorm rooms, while others fled the common room and spread the word.
Turning towards Terry, Bethanie, Silvia, and Tiffany, who were all cautiously still sitting, Rowan says, "I have a request for each of you if you will. Bethanie, please invite dear Terry's cousin, Professor Mortimer to the common room. Silvia, if you would go and get Severus, while dear Terry and Tiffany round up the third years." None of her four friends protest as they all hurry off to do as requested without a single word.
One of the third-year transfer girls opens her mouth to speak but immediately snaps her mouth shut at a frigid glare from Rowan. The third-year girl immediately turns her stare to the ground as the very air in the common room seems bitterly chilly despite the roaring fireplace in the common room.
Orange light from the fireplace flickers over all of them especially that of Rowan as though she were some sort of demon from Dante's Inferno. And to that scene arrived the third years from the boys' and girls' dorms, who were being herded down by Terry and Tiffany. Slytherins knew danger when they saw it, and they didn't even speak as they silently, and quickly filed in attempting to draw none of Prefect Prince's ire.
Rowan silently nods her head in thanks to Terry and Tiffany, who hurry out to help gather the rest of the third years. One by one the third years quietly creep in until everyone is gathered in the common room. The last two arrive are that of Severus and Professor Mortimer, who arrive together. (Tiffany, Terry, Bethanie, and Terry had wisely elected not to return for the time being.)
Rowan is solemnly tapping her foot against the floor. It was a slow, but steady tapping which seemed to only fray the nerves of the third years more. As the two of them entered the common room, Severus had already learned of the problem via the Hogwarts gossip tree vein. It simply just amazing what one could learn from the nosey gossips found within the school.
Professor Eponine Mortimer's stiff straight, silver hair is cut short at her shoulders. Her skin is shallow an unfortunate trait inherited from her father rather than the moon bright skin of her Veela descended witch mother. She was nearly flat-chested with a tiny chest, but a lovely angelic face that matched that of an angel.
Seeing the third years so quickly and quietly assembled, Professor Eponine marveled at the obedient looking third year Slytherin's and says, "My, my, my, I have never been quite so astonished as today. Who would have ever thought that there would ever be a Prefect who could have our fearless snakelings quivering into submission?" Normally the younger Slytherins would have vehemently protested and sulked, but at the moment, none dared to speak otherwise.