"Harry?" Draconica inquired as the two settled in for the night, having just waved goodbye to Daphne, Astoria, and Tracey as they headed off to the dungeons. Harry merely muttered a noncommittal response, indicating he was paying attention. "I think we should announce the return of House Slytherin through the wizarding media."
"Mhm... How do you suggest we do that?" Harry asked, clearly skeptical. His disdain for the idea was evident, especially given the many lies the *Daily Prophet* had printed about him in the past.
"We need to manage this announcement on our own terms while we still can," she insisted. After a brief pause, she added, "By lunchtime tomorrow, the entire castle will know we're married and that I'm Lady Slytherin. Give it another day, and students' parents will know as well. Do you really want to let this gossip spiral out of control? I understand you have issues with the *Prophet*, and possibly all newspapers, but would you prefer they spread whatever lies Rita Skeeter concocts instead of sharing our truth?" Harry couldn't help but acknowledge her point.
"Alright," he conceded, standing up to make his way to the table in their common room. Despite the late hour, they needed to draft the article now. Draconica followed closely, eager to help him compose their media statement. They worked diligently into the night, and though they finally sent the finished piece to both the *Daily Prophet* and *Wizarding Wireless*, they weren't confident that Hedwig would reach them before the morning news was prepared for release.
~/ *** \~
"Which table should we sit at this morning?" Harry asked as he and Draconica approached the Great Hall. They were slightly late, having overslept from their writing marathon the previous night, but there were other students who had similarly struggled to rise early on a Monday. The couple caught snippets of conversation revealing that word of their marriage had already spread throughout Hogwarts, with the rumor of House Slytherin's revival following closely behind.
"Well…" Draconica hesitated, her thoughts drifting to the youngest Weasley and his group of followers, knowing she wouldn't be welcome at the Gryffindor table. Equally, there were many Slytherins who wouldn't accept Harry at their table. They could split up and sit at their respective house tables, but neither wanted to be apart at that moment. Their quandary was resolved moments later when another group of students arrived at the Great Hall doors.
"Harry, there you are!" Cedric called, approaching the other Triwizard champion. "I need to speak with you. Mind joining me at the Hufflepuff table?" He looked at Draconica and hastily added, "Your lady is welcome too." They exchanged a glance and a nod before Harry turned his attention to Cedric.
"Thank you, we'd like that," he replied. The trio made their way to the Hufflepuff table, securing a few unoccupied seats near the end. Though Harry's rapport with the Hufflepuffs hadn't fully recovered since the tournament, Cedric's invitation meant no one would dare voice any objections.
The three champions focused on their breakfast, and conversation was minimal until they neared the end of their meal. Finally, Cedric spoke up. "My father wanted me to give this to you." He produced an envelope from his robe pocket and handed it to Harry. "I'm not sure why he asked me to deliver it instead of just sending it by owl; he probably wants me to learn how to conduct business."
Harry opened the envelope and skimmed the note inside. Although it was related to the case against the Ministry the four champions had initiated months ago, the letter's contents were not confidential. "I see. Please tell your father that House Potter agrees to his proposal. We can discuss further business during the next Hogsmeade weekend." Harry attempted to sound as shrewd as a seasoned politician. Cedric seemed momentarily taken aback but quickly nodded in agreement.
"Alright, thank you," he replied. Harry acknowledged with a nod, then returned to finishing his breakfast.
The rest of the morning passed without incident for Harry, though it felt as though everyone he knew was eager to confirm the rumors about his marriage to Draconica. Answering those inquiries every few minutes became exhausting, especially when some were intrusive enough to ask about personal details regarding their first night as a married couple—information he wasn't willing to share. He just hoped Draconica wasn't facing a worse situation with her Slytherin housemates, many of whom were less than pleased with their union.
Fortunately, when they reunited at the start of lunch, Draconica appeared unfazed, flanked by Daphne and Tracey who helped shield her from the more persistent members of her house. After thanking the girls for keeping an eye on her, Harry faced the familiar dilemma of where to sit with Draconica. Without Cedric's neutral Hufflepuff invitation this time, he was unsure of their options.
Daphne and Tracey urged them to join the Slytherin table, and Harry nearly agreed, but before he voiced his thoughts, Draconica surprised him with a different suggestion. "Why don't we sit at the Gryffindor table, Harry?" she said. Then, looking at her friends, she added, "Sorry, girls; I promise we'll join you for dinner." While neither Daphne nor Tracey seemed particularly happy with her choice, they nodded in understanding and made their way to the Slytherin table. Turning back to her husband, Draconica added with a grin, "Just let's sit as far away from Weasley as possible; his table manners make me lose my appetite." Harry smiled in agreement, and together they moved to the far end of the Gryffindor table.
But unfortunately for them, it seemed Ronald had learned to be more observant during his time apprenticing under Dumbledore. Even as he drowned himself in food, he noticed Harry and Draconica's presence at the end of the table—and that sent him into a rage.
"Potter, you traitor!" he shouted. "How dare you bring that slimy Slytherin filth to my table!" Fortunately, Harry had anticipated this and raised a barrier to muffle the sounds around himself and Draconica, allowing them to eat in peace. The rest of the Great Hall, however, could easily hear Ron's outburst and many were just as displeased, especially the Slytherins and the professors, who recognized that Ron's behavior was tarnishing Hogwarts' reputation in front of guests from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.
"Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall admonished as she approached the Gryffindor table, her expression filled with disapproval. Perhaps she was having a particularly bad day; after all, only a fool would provoke her further. "What is the cause of this outburst?" Ron, however, chose to argue.
"B-But look what Potter—look at that evil b—" He caught himself before swearing in front of McGonagall, substituting instead, "That evil Slytherin he brought to our table!" Throughout this, McGonagall merely stood before him, unfazed as she tapped her foot against the stone floor.
"That, Mr. Weasley, is well within the bounds of Hogwarts rules." This seemed to hit Ron like a slap. Before he could retort, McGonagall added, "I will also be deducting twenty points from Gryffindor due to your outburst."
"B-But—!" Ron exclaimed, but her piercing stare silenced him.
"If you don't want a week's worth of detention with Filch, I suggest you be quiet, Mr. Weasley." With that, she turned sharply and returned to the professors' table.
Meanwhile, Harry and Draconica continued their lunch as if nothing had transpired. Thanks to the wards Harry had placed around them, they hadn't heard Ron's tirade, and while they noticed him arguing with McGonagall, they decided it wasn't worth their time. Still, Harry felt a small urge to deliver a piece of his mind to Ron; it didn't sit well with him that the redhead might've insulted Draconica.
Once they finished their meal, the young couple made their way out of the Great Hall in order to prepare for their afternoon classes—and perhaps enjoy a moment of privacy together. However, their plans were abruptly interrupted as they exited and found...
"Mother?" Draconica exclaimed in surprise, having not expected to see Narcissa at Hogwarts so soon. Harry managed to control his surprise a bit better, saying, "Lady Malfoy?" Narcissa let out a small sigh and approached them, stopping a few paces away.
"Now, Draconica, dear, do you really believe that because your father tends to act before he thinks I would stop caring about you?" Then she turned to Harry. "And you, Lord Potter—or should I say, Lord Slytherin?" She whispered the last part so only they could hear. "You can simply call me Narcissa." After Harry nodded, she continued, "Let's retire to one of the meeting rooms and have a proper chat about the past few days of your lives."
"B-But!" Draconica began to protest weakly.
"Don't worry, dear. I've spoken with your professors. You're excused from your afternoon classes." She leaned in closer and whispered conspiratorially, "Oh, and I'm dying to know all the details about your 'first night' too."
"Mother!" Draconica cried out, her cheeks flushing crimson. Yet, despite her embarrassment, she allowed Narcissa to take her and Harry away to the meeting rooms...
The following morning, Harry and Draconica opted to sit once more at the Slytherin table. Just like the evening prior, Tracey, Daphne, and Astoria positioned themselves strategically between the couple and the rest of their housemates. While none of the Slytherins had attempted to push them away yet, there were a few who remained staunchly opposed to their relationship.
As was customary, around the midpoint of breakfast, owls arrived bearing letters and the latest edition of the *Daily Prophet*. A brief glance at the front page was sufficient for Harry to spot the article he and his enchanting wife had written about the resurgence of House Slytherin, presented in a way that supported their interests. Although their piece wasn't on the front page—thanks to a recent campaign aimed at bolstering the current Minister's popularity—the third page wasn't too shabby either. It only took a couple of minutes for the students in the Great Hall to reach this article, and Harry and Draconica quickly observed their reactions.
Neutral responses of shock at the revival of an Ancient house thought lost came primarily from the professors and the visiting Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students, along with several Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students. Some Gryffindor and Slytherin students, less interested in politics, shared similar feelings.
Meanwhile, another group of students was busy fueling the Hogwarts rumor mill with sensational and far-fetched tales about the young couple and the Ancient and Noble House of Slytherin. A small number of individuals—mostly friends and acquaintances of Harry and Draconica—expressed genuine happiness for them, but the rest remained unconvinced.
On one side of the Great Hall, Ron Weasley was vociferously lamenting the existence of "evil wizards." His outburst caught Professor McGonagall's ire once more, leading to a loss of points and a detention for the redhead. Meanwhile, down the Slytherin table, a group of purebloods protested vehemently against a mere half-blood holding the status of a lord, especially in an Ancient and Noble house.
At the professors' table, Professor Snape was visibly contemplating gruesome ways to rid himself of Harry, a sentiment that came as no surprise given his history with the Boy Who Lived. More shocking, however, was the unmistakable hatred on Mad-Eye Moody's face directed at young Lord Slytherin. Harry could hardly comprehend the reason behind such animosity; the retired Auror hardly struck him as someone capable of such deep prejudices.
~/ *** \~
"Did you manage to fetch the newspapers for me, Wormtail?" a low, hissing voice inquired from a shadowy armchair, as a scraggly man entered the room. The man bowed deeply before responding.
"Of course, my Master. But I must warn you, you may not like what you find in them." After a brief pause, his statement was met with a deep, crimson curse that sent him plummeting to the floor, writhing in agony. Moments later, the curse was lifted.
"Do you dare to assume what I would or would not like, Wormtail?" The threatening tone lingered in the air.
"Of course not, my Lord!" The shabby man quickly retorted, fear evident in his voice. After a brief silence, the ominous figure in the armchair commanded, "Give me the newspaper and leave my sight. I do not wish to see you any longer." Wormtail bowed deeply again and trembled across the room, handing over the *Daily Prophet* he had swiped from a hag at a nearby, rather disreputable magical pub. Once his Master had possession of the paper, Wormtail hurriedly exited, eager to avoid another curse.
As Voldemort opened the newspaper with his stubby, scaled hands—an unfortunate consequence of his current homunculus form—he knew that despite the world believing him dead at the hands of the insufferable Potter, he had to remain informed, especially as the day of his resurrection approached.
Immediately, his eyes were drawn to the name Slytherin. Ignoring the political drivel from that buffoon Fudge, he flipped to the article. Within just a few sentences, his rage boiled over; he felt an overwhelming urge to destroy something. Unfortunately for him, Wormtail had already fled, leaving him with only the option to unleash his fury by incinerating the curtains with a deft application of Fiendfyre.
While it was infuriating that the Potter brat had claimed lordship over Slytherin, this was not entirely unexpected; he had been the heir before his demise. What truly stoked his anger was how this half-blood had somehow convinced the Ancient and Noble house's magic to accept him as Lord, while he had been denied that same right at the end of his fifth year.
Yet, Voldemort reassured himself, that brat would soon meet his end, serving the ultimate purpose of providing him with a new, superior body to walk among the living once again. Then, he would eliminate that insufferable tart Lucius's daughter had become and reclaim the lordship through the very rite of conquest he had lost.
It was demeaning for the Potter brat to hold the lordship that rightfully belonged to him, but he could endure it. The true problem lay in the damage this article might inflict on his followers: some could begin to doubt his power and fail to rally to his side once he was restored. It was always a loss when pure magical blood was shed, but those who dared to betray him would serve as examples to others.
Once he calmed slightly, Voldemort resolved to consider reinforcing loyalty among his followers later. Despite being tainted by the Potter name, the paper still contained valuable information. It would be foolish not to utilize any knowledge available to him. Although losing Slytherin heirship had cost him dearly, the war was not yet over, and soon enough, he would emerge victorious, with the world finally rid of filthy Muggles bowing before him.
~/ *** \~
The ensuing weeks proved exhausting for Harry and his lovely wife. They faced a dual onslaught from those who believed the latest outrageous rumors circulating in Hogwarts and those who despised Harry for being Lord Slytherin—either believing he was unworthy or harboring deep-rooted prejudices against his lineage. Some simply hated the green-eyed wizard for being alive.
As time passed—like it always had—the rumor mill eventually turned its attention to fresher gossip, and the bizarre theories surrounding Harry's lordship and his beautiful wife faded from collective memory. While the haters continued to harbor animosity, most no longer acted upon it. A handful of stubborn individuals remained, but they posed no real threat to Harry or Draconica and could be easily ignored.
What remained troubling, however, was the absence of any political maneuvers from Lucius Malfoy, who might have sought to claim the Slytherin family name had he not disowned Draconica. Heeding Moody's advice, the young couple maintained constant vigilance, but after three weeks of living on high alert, the strain began to weigh heavily on them.
Eventually, the end of April arrived, and on a Saturday morning, all four Triwizard champions were summoned to Hagrid's cabin at four in the afternoon for a briefing on the tournament's final task. Although they weren't explicitly instructed to bring the orbs they had recovered during the second task, Harry, after consulting with his enchanting wife, decided to bring his along.
To his surprise, he was the last to arrive at the designated meeting place, even though it was only five minutes to four. Cedric, Fleur, and Victor were already present, politely listening to Ludo Bagman recounting stories from his sporting past, though with little interest. Upon seeing Harry approach, Bagman halted his anecdote and announced, "Now that we're all here, gentlemen…and of course, mademoiselle Delacour, let's proceed to the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch." He began to walk away, and Harry realized that they had concealed the pitch under powerful wards to prevent champions from gleaning details beforehand. A discreetly placed compulsion charm ensured no students wandered outside the grounds, questioning the pitch's sudden disappearance.
Bagman led the group to the edge of the wards guarding the Quidditch pitch. For now, it appeared as an ordinary grassy meadow. Then, the Ministry official ushered each champion inside the wards, with Harry being the last to enter, but he paid it no mind.
Glancing around, Harry noted little had changed aside from some shrubs sprouting in the ground; the hoops and tribunes remained unchanged. Ludo stood a few feet in front of them, addressing the champions.
"Growing up nicely, aren't they?" he remarked, nodding toward the bushes. "They should be over nine feet tall by the time of the task…" He then turned to the two Hogwarts students. "Don't worry; once the tournament concludes, you'll have your pitch back in pristine condition." After a brief pause, he continued, "So, any guesses on what the third task will be?" Just as Harry was about to share his thoughts, Victor Krum spoke up.
"A maze." The surly Bulgarian's words were short. Mr. Bagman beamed at him.
"Correct! The task will indeed take place in a magical maze. But that's not all." Bagman took a step closer to the champions. "This maze will be filled with powerful magic and dangerous creatures that you must overcome to win—the goal is to reach the center of the maze and claim the Goblet of Fire…" Harry's thoughts were interrupted as Bagman continued, "Do you remember the orbs you retrieved at the end of the second task?" The champions nodded in unison.
"I assume we'll need them for this task?" Fleur questioned.
"Indeed," Bagman affirmed. "The number etched on each orb indicates your starting position—don't fret about any unfair advantages—these orbs will also serve as keys. There will be several gates in the maze, and your orb will unlock only the gates marked with the same number."
"So, if we collect all four orbs, we can open any gate?" Victor inquired, causing immediate caution among the other three champions.
"You cannot," Ludo replied. "The orb stays with the champion who originally picked it during the second task until the end of the third task. They cannot be forcefully taken or given away willingly. The only point of contact for two champions occurs at the maze's center, and by that stage, you'll not require the other orbs." Victor nodded in comprehension.
"I see…"
"Great," Bagman continued. "Do you have any other questions?" A flurry of inquiries followed, mostly concerning the task's time limit, what would happen if all champions were incapacitated before reaching the Goblet, and how points were awarded for the earlier tasks. Mr. Bagman did his utmost to provide answers without revealing too much, and by nearly six o'clock, all champions had their questions addressed and were led away from the maze.