AN: We're interrupting this scheduled broadcast to give room for a short poll. Ideally I'd do it with a third party tool for polls, there's plenty, but if you're reading this on the app like I usually do, clicking links is not gonna be convenient at all.
As such, you're now going to be given six choices for what Talion's inner animal will be. Unless someone manages to convince me to go with a seventh non-listed option, it will be one of those 6. My definite preference is a bird, so that will be most of the choices. You'll find the most likely subspecies of the animal that I will use in () together with my reasoning:
- Raven (hooded crow, just for the wordplay (yes, crows and ravens aren't technically the same, but they are still both in the Corvus genus))
- Eagle (golden eagle, it's a very common eagle but looks really cool anyway. The eagle of Kassandra (greek player character in AC:Odyssey, co-founder of the 'Hidden Ones' I believe, which would become the brotherhood) named Ikaros is a golden eagle)
- Falcon (there's a falcon species called 'merlin', so def that if you guys choose falcon)
- Hawk (grey goshawk, because its completely white/grey just like the assassins dress)
- Fox (Darwin's fox genus, because they are endangered and are much better at stealth in the dark than a regular red fox because of the dark fur)
- Cat (Black-Footed Cat, deadliest cat species in the world, and much smaller than even a regular house cat)
I'm going to count messages on each line, not likes or something. I don't care if you vote for more than one animal, but please don't spam message just to get the numbers up. I'll finish the vote on the day chapter 062 goes live. If there's a bunch of trolls, I'll just choose with a Math.random() function in JavaScript...
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With a deeply resigned expression on my face, I stood in front of a stone gargoyle on the third floor and waited patiently for my head of house. After dinner on the first day of lessons, Hilliard, the prefect, not the graduated Quidditch captain, told me that the headmaster wanted to see me.
Naturally, I wouldn't want to be in the same room alone with the man, so I sent Hilliard to inform Flitwick, who hadn't been present in the Great Hall at the time. I should really use some effort to learn the patronus charm or find another way for convenient short distance communication.
Maybe I could get Lupin to teach me. He did manage to teach Harry in year 2 of canon... and in my own biased opinion, I was a more driven and talented wizard than the original canon ever showed Harry to be. Though, with a friend like Ron who slacked off almost religiously, it was a wonder Harry ever even managed to advance each school year. I supposed it wasn't entirely fair to call him untalented then. He still learned advanced spells despite barely spending any time studying.
"I'm here. You were right to call me," Flitwick's voice suddenly stated from next to me and roused me out of my musings.
"Sensei," I bowed deeply. Deep enough for Flitwick to slap the back of my head as he got on his toes.
"Just because Kousei-kun called me that does not give you the right to call me that," Flitwick chided with a cheeky grin once I straightened up.
Apparently, the half-goblin had taught a Mahoutokoro graduate from Magical Japan in dueling once he stopped participating in the dueling circuit. None of the British magicals seeking him out had caught his eyes. He only taught Kousei for a year, but according to Flitwick, he couldn't teach the young wizard much and instead focused on his roles at Hogwarts.
Kousei was still the reigning champion decades later and announced his retirement after the tournament next year. I was actually quite eager to see that happening because the way he won the adult tournament was quite impressive.
"'Sour zingers'," Flitwick said to the gargoyle who jumped aside before the diminutive professor turned to me and ordered, "After you."
"What's a sour zinger?" I idly asked as I started walking up the winding stairs.
"Exactly what it sounds like. You wouldn't care for it, I'm certain," Flitwick answered - apparently not entirely appreciating my laid-back attitude at the moment.
"Ah. There was no need for you to come, Filius. I didn't want to take up your time so early in the school year, which is why I merely sent one of the prefects to fetch Talion for me," Dumbledore gently reminded when the two of us stepped into his office.
Despite my storied upbringing he was involved in and the keen interest the scheming asshole in front of us should have had in me, this was still the first time I was inside Dumbledore's office.
To my magical vision, the room was simply blinding.
So many magical items, some apparently of great value, blended together and merely showed me almost an entire view of white and gold. Especially Fawkes, who looked like a golden beacon so bright, I had to turn off the eagle vision lest I blinded myself.
"He has asked for my presence, so I shall stay unless Talion dismisses me himself. Seeing as he openly berated another staff member and you are likely to mete out punishment since I haven't, you are going to give Talion his just deserts. I'll stay to see how just they are," Flitwick stated and calmly sat on one of the chairs in the room.
Dumbledore looked at his colleague for a short moment before he sighed deeply. The centenniel sounded weary, but I somehow doubted it was the case. He was just trying to show some pitiful image of a grandfather who knew what was best for you and still gain some sympathy while he fucked you over by deciding something against your will just because it was for the greater good.
Well, in my likely biased opinion of the man.
"Very well. Talion, you claimed to know that Severus was among the dark lord's forces. Tell me honestly how you came to know about that," Dumbledore inquired in his typical disappointed, chiding tone of voice.
With a puzzled look, I turned to Flitwick and asked, "That wasn't an open secret?"
"It is, but among us adults. It wasn't in the press, after all. I suppose the headmaster is trying to inquire how you came to know about it since he is sure none of the adults in your life would have told you about this matter," Flitwick pointed out.
"I'm sorry, but that's not true. Ron Weasley from Gryffindor would tell anybody willing to listen about who was a Death Eater according to the warnings of his father. Especially if it concerned those 'greasy snakes'. I wasn't willing to listen, and he still told me because I am a 'murderer in the making, just like my grandfather'," I countered with a lifted eyebrow as I used airquotes to mock the youngest Weasley who wasn't even present.
"Truly?" Flitwick asked as he pretended to hear about this matter for the first time. After all, Ron had served detention twice last year after Flitwick overheard the redheaded idiot cursing me and my ancestors.
At least he was much, much quicker to learn than Draco, and eventually stopped. He only looked at me like I was deserving of a lifetime subscription to dementor central for no other reason than who my relatives were now instead of openly talking about it every time we walked past each other.
I counted that as a win.
"But that is not where you learned of Severus' past," Dumbledore chided as he stroked his beard while looking at me.
It reminded me of one of the first things Patrick taught me about the wizarding world. Accomplished Occlumens were absolute lie detectors. Plus, allegedly, nobody could tell a lie in the presence of the original Excalibur. Maybe in this universe, a similar ability manifested in the Elder Wand.
"It's true. I knew way before what Snape truly is," I revealed with a purposefully mocking tone of voice.
With furrowed brows, Dumbledore corrected, "Professor Snape."
"Well, he isn't teaching me anymore. Not that he ever did. So please excuse my manners. I will not be calling someone who clearly loathes every student in his classroom 'professor'," I grandly confirmed... in an effort to not have to explain how I knew Snape was who he was.
"Severus has promised me that he would amend his behavior. I'd like you to rethink attending his classes again. Potions is an important core subject. Your future career paths will depend on your grades in those core subjects," Dumbledore explained, and I inwardly patted myself on the back for not having to answer the question from before for now.
"If people taught by Severus Snape can find jobs after Hogwarts, anybody can," I scoffed with furrowed brows before shaking my head and calmly stating, "If I am forced to attend potions with the man, I'll switch schools. It is now very clear that he cannot separate his love for his godson from his work. Since that is the case, and I will sooner rather than later proclaim a blood feud with the Malfoy family, I don't see myself getting into Snape's good graces ever again."
"A blood feud?!" Dumbledore asked with widened eyes.
Jackpot. Another topic that would stop him from asking what he wanted.
It almost felt too easy stirring this conversation. Is this secretly what Dumbledore wanted to know, and I'm still playing into his hands? My Occlumency was running into overdrive as I thought about every single answer and the consequences of my wording before I said anything out loud.
"Since finding out who my mother is, or rather was, and after thinking about the many attacks on my person, it is no secret to me that these mongrels cannot endure me living in peace because of who my mother is and what she stood for in her untimely end. We don't have to kid ourselves in this room. We all know Lucius Malfoy was a very much willing Death Eater. I know it, and I'm certain you do, too. Since the blonde moron doesn't stop his attacks on me, it is immaterial whether or not I even proclaim a blood feud. He won't stop, so I cannot stop either," I explained and left it at that, hoping I only revealed as much information as I was willing to share and didn't allow for any subtext to expose something I didn't want to reveal.
Not saying anything was sadly not an option. Talking about my grievances with the Malfoy family, however, would give Dumbledore something to worry and scheme about. Sure, it could backfire if and when I dealt with Lucius, and Dumbledore treated me as a prime suspect to be hauled into Azkaban.
But I had high hopes that Rita Skeeter finished her investigations into my ongoing project I had her working on called 'Dark Lord Dumbledore' that would see the meddling fool stripped of his political power. When she does, I'd have much less to worry about. Because something was giving me the impression that Dumbledore was looking into contigency plans that would see me placed in Azkaban if I toed the line too hard.
"I encourage you to see past these misunderstandings. A feud is an archaic way of settling disputes that we as civilized wizards and witches should never favor," Dumbledore all but preached and it took a lot of my willpower to not roll my eyes, hard.
"May I address the portraits of the illustrious headmasters behind you?" I asked to create another misdirect.
With a questioning gaze, Dumbledore gave me a solemn nod.
"Good day to you all," I greeted as I gave the many moving portraits a short bow. They were mere portraits, so I wasn't truly in awe of them, but I wanted them on my side if possible. That required me to be courteous.
"The headmaster said my way of doing things was archaic, and without meaning to be rude, I suppose that is where your expertise lies," I calmly stated as the portraits regarded me with interest.
A few of them scoffed, some in amusement, some in derision, but I ignored it all and continued, "A man who has been my enemy before I even entered the magical world on account of who my mother was, has sent his son to instigate at the very least two attacks on me while in the school. During the first, they even used the Cruciatus curse on me. He and his son have attacked my person, my name, my reputation - I highly suspect even destroyed my ancestral home. How long ago into this story would you have declared a blood feud on the man and openly hunted him down in Diagon Alley at the earliest opportunity since the Ministry seems to favor him over you?"
I didn't reveal to Dumbledore lightly that I knew Draco Malfoy was part of the first attack where I was tortured. Ideally, I didn't want to do that ever. But I doubted it mattered now. Dumbledore knew for sure and had to suspect that I figured it out by now after I showed myself to be much more clever and talented than I outwardly pretended to be last year. He wasn't an idiot and could clearly tell that Lucius was behind at least the article in the Daily Prophet unless it turned out Dumbledore penned the thing, so it wasn't a stretch for me to figure it out, too, if I knew about Lucius being someone my mother spied on. Plus, I wanted out of this room.
If the portraits started loudly discussing and cursing Dumbledore for his actions, that would happen.
"Personally, I'd draw the line at the ancestral home," Phineas Black loudly declared, entirely sure about himself and his opinion.
Dilys Derwent, the headmaster who was also the brilliant healer and witch who created the St Mungo's hospital in the mid 18th century cut off the rest as she stated, "A blood feud is never the answer. You're involving the innocent."
"Pah, innocent? The boy said both father and son are scheming together! The whole family sounds rotten," the portrait of Vindictus Viridian spat in derision. The man had been headmaster for a mere decade in the early 17th century, and I actually owned a book he had written on curses. Walden and our older family members who owned it before my grandfather must have perused it quite heavily because it showed a lot of wear and tear. Interestingly enough, the man was not even known for his short time as a headmaster or the book on curses because he had been one of the most talented potion masters of his time. Though, it was more fair to say that he was infamous.
After all, most of his potions were banned now because they heavily focused on blood as ingredients. Big on getting even with his enemies because his first name had a similar meaning to mine, namely 'revenge' instead of 'vengeance', Vindictus Viridian was most notable for having cast two successful blood curses on a family with the help of his blood potions.
"Vindictus. We all know your temper, but there is no need to lead any more youngins astray," the portrait of Armando Dippet, Dumbledore's predecessor, chided with a disappointed frown. "Young Macnair. Nobody should tell you not to defend yourself. But involving the innocent in a blood feud will eventually leave you with a heavy heart indeed. I should know..."
"Do what you must, just leave the kids alone," one of the oldest portraits in the room ordered with a stern frown of his own. Fytherley Undercliffe, the sixth ever headmaster of this school, according to the plaque on the frame. I had no impression of the man.
"Rest assured, everyone. It is a family of three. And since both parents failed to raise a proper human being, I don't see a reason why I should spare the mother either," with a last look toward Phineas, I revealed, "Your grandson said he would understand, too."
I wasn't sure about revealing my dealings with Arcturus Black like this, but I didn't talk about my access to the Black Library and Dumbledore must know through his many spies that I had a talk with the man at Three Broomsticks together with Amelia weeks before Sirius' acquittal.
I hoped that bringing up that I talked about Narcissa with the late Lord Black would make Dumbledore think less off my true involvement in the matter. Plus, it would hopefully have Phineas raving like a madman and give me the space to get out of here.
"He did? I heard the little brat finally kicked the bucket a few weeks ago. Coward didn't even leave behind a portrait for me to berate him until time immemorial! So fed up with his father's death at Gellert's hand that he threw his and his sister's life away at a whim. I'd have strangled him myself if I still had hands all those years ago! And don't get me started on his stupid decision to hand the reigns of the family to his whipped son so early. That stupid bat of a woman nearly ended my bloodline with her actions!"
And so it began.
Raging around loudly, Phineas Black insulted everyone, especially those portraits that tried to stop one of his endless tirades. Not wishing to stun every single magical portrait in front of a student, Dumbledore eventually, reluctantly, sent out Flitwick and I.
After bidding farewell to my head of house near the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room, I started grinning madly. It was going much better than I hoped. While it was just an excuse to get me to his office, Dumbledore was so preoccupied, he didn't even end up giving me a punishment.
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[POV 3rd person in Dumbledore's office]
A few minutes after Talion and Flitwick left, the portraits suddenly stopped loudly cussing one another.
With almost manic smiles, both Viridian and Black started laughing uproariously all of a sudden.
"He got you, Albus!" Phineas gloatingly barked. "What a sly little bastard. He played me like a fiddle!"
Viridian, inside his portrait, shook his head in amusement as he sighed, "With a cunning mind like that, he would be the ideal Slytherin, bar none. I wonder how he was sorted into Ravenclaw."
A few portraits gave the hat a pointed glare until it revealed, "Talion is a boy of many talents. You may see him as shrewd, but I am still certain I sorted the boy correctly."
It could have said much more, of course. But it meant what it told Talion. Only a founder could make the talking hat reveal its secrets. There was no way it would tell these portraits, let alone Dumbledore, what it had learned while on the boy's head or how young Macnair could have gone to any house if he truly wanted and the hat even had him choose the house himself in the end.
"I'm not usually one for violence. But Albus, you have to see that the boy is not speaking without reason. If this man and his son have truly been allowed to do as he said, on Hogwarts ground no less, he deserves to retaliate," Derwent pondered out loud with a tight frown. "If you can't give him justice, and the ministry is in his enemy's pocket as young Macnair says..."
Inwardly, the talking hat was hoping that Dumbledore would listen to the portrait of the headmaster he had liked the most since the founders. But he knew the old man wouldn't. After all, while the portraits had been sleeping at the time, the hat had listened when Albus decided to visit 'an old friend' and discussed the boy with the potions professor the day before.
From what the hat knew, this old friend would just goad Albus to do more damage. Dumbledore couldn't see it because Grindelwald chose to more or less voluntarily stay imprisoned, but the hat was sure that the dark lord wanted to see the headmaster deeply regret.
Nothing else made sense in the hat's mind.
"I have once allowed a boy just like him to grow unchecked. I cannot make that mistake again when I will not be much longer for this world," Dumbledore argued with a distressed smile that fooled none of the portraits. They had all seen to what lengths the man could go to when he had tried to influence the boy-who-lived last year.
"That brat is nothing like the Riddle boy. I have seen him genuinely laugh among friends in my other frame. Actual friends, not minions," Viridian spat with a disdainful smile for his living successor.
"Little Sprout speaks nothing but praise for him. Little Poppy does, too. You're wrong about him," Derwent interjected with a disappointed frown.
Dumbledore held up his hand, pretended to weigh the matter in his mind, and spoke with a deep, reluctant sigh, "I suppose I can give him another chance. It's not that I want to brand him as a dark wizard either. But his circumstances leave me little choice. He has too much power over his peers now."
"Is that so bad? He's a pureblood, no? He acts like one, even if I don't like his informal style of talking to us. Let him be a beacon among his lessers. Not everybody who stands out deserves to be culled by you, Albus. Not all change is bad if it's done for the right reasons by the right people. You're not the only one who can see the bigger picture," Phineas pointed out with a superior sneer on his face that would have Snape sigh in defeat.
'Even a broken, bigotted, and racist clock was right twice a day,' the hat inwardly thought as it listened to Phineas Black. The headmaster it had least liked... until Albus Dumbledore came along.