Defense Against the Dark Arts. The Slytherin students chattered amongst themselves about what the lesson might hold as they made their way to the classroom.
Unfortunately, what awaited them was Professor Snape.
"Professor Lupin has taken sick leave, so I will be conducting today's class in his stead."
A few of the Slytherin students let out sounds of disappointment. Whatever their feelings about Snape, Professor Lupin's lessons had been genuinely useful and engaging.
Snape ignored them as though he hadn't heard a word, and opened his book.
"Right. Everyone turn to your books. Since Professor Lupin has been working through the material in order, I shall do the opposite and begin with the final chapter. Turn to page three hundred and ninety-four— today's subject is werewolves."
They hadn't studied the topic yet, and it was still far ahead in the curriculum, yet Snape insisted on teaching it regardless.
They transform at every full moon; a bite from a transformed werewolf is infectious. The snout is slightly narrower than an ordinary wolf's, and the skull bears a closer resemblance to a human's. There is no cure for the bite, though silver applied to the wound is said to offer some relief.
He didn't teach Potions—his own subject—with this much fervour. The Slytherin students gained a small measure of understanding for why students in other houses disliked Snape.
When the lesson ended, Snape assigned a homework essay: one full scroll of parchment on how to identify a werewolf, due the following week. Even the Slytherin students grumbled at that.
"Professor, this topic is still ages away in the syllabus—one whole scroll is far too much!"
"This is a necessary exercise."
Snape said it flatly. Complaints were beginning to bubble up from all corners of the room when he added:
"For the record, Gryffindor was assigned two scrolls."
"When you put it that way, one scroll doesn't seem so bad..."
"One scroll, really?"
"Anyone want to work on it together?"
As the students filed out in clusters, Malfoy—who had been waiting for the right moment—approached Snape.
"Professor Snape. I have a question."
"What is it, Carina?"
The Malfoy family were among Snape's patrons, and Snape treated Malfoy accordingly.
He might have been a fearsome teacher to the other students, but to Malfoy he was a professor she could trust and rely upon.
Malfoy glanced briefly around the room, then lowered her voice.
"It's about Sirius Black."
"...Why would you—"
Snape's expression darkened visibly. It lasted only a moment, but the look that crossed his face was a tangle of violent hatred and revulsion.
Sirius Black—who on earth was he, that even Snape could not keep his feelings hidden?
Malfoy felt her curiosity sharpen, and waited for his answer.
Snape pressed two fingers to his temple, deliberated, then rose from his seat.
"This is not a story for just anyone to hear. Come to my office."
Once inside, Snape checked the corridor beyond the door, then cast a spell to ensure no one could enter. He turned to face Malfoy with an expression of profound discomfort.
"Why have you suddenly become curious about this, Carina?"
"Why? Sirius Black keeps breaking into the school—surely that concerns us?"
The Malfoy family were notorious Death Eaters, known to everyone. They had escaped consequence through claims of being under the Imperius Curse and the generous application of donations, but every witch and wizard knew the truth of it, however quietly.
And so Carina played the part of a Malfoy.
As one loyal to the Dark Lord, she was expected to cheer on Sirius Black—the man who wanted Harry Potter dead.
Snape studied her as though trying to see straight through her.
"Is that truly all? Speak honestly. Depending on your answer, I may need to contact your father."
"My father already knows. He said that if anyone might have answers, it would be you."
Snape held her gaze, and Malfoy met it without flinching, chin lifted as though in challenge.
For a moment their eyes locked, and Malfoy felt something snap taut between them—like a thread pulled to its limit. Snape's brow furrowed.
"You are... naturally..."
"Pardon?"
"Never mind. Remember that sensation. It will serve you well one day."
Snape exhaled slowly and gathered his thoughts. He sorted through the many facts and memories within him, then began to speak with his emotions held under the tightest possible rein.
"...Do you know what the Fidelius Charm is?"
"No. It isn't in the curriculum, is it?"
"No. You wouldn't know it—it's an extraordinarily complex and secretive piece of magic."
In the days when Voldemort and Dumbledore were locked in opposition.
For reasons unknown, Voldemort had decided to kill the Potters.
Dumbledore, sensing this, had used the Fidelius Charm to protect the couple and their child.
"It is a spell that conceals a secret within a single living person. The information is hidden inside a chosen 'Secret Keeper,' and no one other than the Secret Keeper can ever reveal it. Dumbledore used the Fidelius Charm to hide the Potters from the Dark Lord. The person chosen as Secret Keeper was James Potter's closest friend—a man he trusted to give his very life for him. That person was... Sirius Black."
"They were friends?"
"Yes. Sirius Black was in the same year as James Potter. The two of them were inseparable, causing no end of trouble together. That friendship endured long after graduation, and the Potters entrusted their safety to Sirius Black. But one week later, the Dark Lord arrived at their hiding place in person. He killed the Potters, and then..."
Snape paused there. When he continued, his face had the look of a man who had poured every last feeling down a drain.
"He vanished."
He said it without expression, yet Malfoy had the distinct sense that something was detonating inside him, held back by sheer force of will.
Was it fury at the disappearance of the Dark Lord to whom he had given his body and soul?
It was strange to see Snape like this—a man who almost never showed emotion, except on those occasions when Harry Potter managed to get under his skin.
"The rest you know. He killed seventeen Muggles and one wizard, was arrested by the Ministry, and brought to trial. He offered no defence. The Wizengamot sentenced him to life in Azkaban, but... apparently that was not enough. The Dementor should have administered the Kiss... Carina?"
"Ah—it's nothing."
Malfoy shook her head and came straight to the point.
"Then was he truly a spy for the Dark Lord? Did he betray his closest friend and give everything to the Dark Lord?"
She had expected one of two answers: yes, or no.
If the former, Sirius Black was a traitor who had abandoned his friend.
If the latter, he was a schemer who had lured the Dark Lord into a trap.
"What does it matter?"
But Snape's answer was neither.
"Let me tell you something important, Carina. Truth and intention matter less than you might think. What matters is the result."
Cold, restrained fury radiated from him. Had Sirius been standing before him at that moment, it seemed he would have killed him on the spot.
"The Potters are dead. The Dark Lord vanished. Whatever his intentions, whatever he did—none of that changes those facts."
In the end, Sirius Black was as good as an enemy to Harry Potter.
And the same held true for the Death Eaters.
Sirius Black was a criminal welcomed by no one.
"So forgiving him, or reconsidering him... is out of the question. No matter who might command it."
Snape muttered it as though speaking to himself.
The truth remained elusive. But having heard Snape out, Malfoy found her own thoughts considerably clearer.
'The Fidelius Charm, the Secret Keeper, and a betrayal... I've gained something valuable.'
This was exactly the kind of information Harry Potter would want. With this, Malfoy could negotiate with Harry on equal footing.
She kept the corners of her mouth from rising.
"...That is all I have to say. No further questions?"
"I understand most of it, but there's one thing I'm still wondering. Why didn't Professor Dumbledore become the Secret Keeper himself?"
"A sharp observation. Because a single person cannot hold too many secrets. A powerful wizard tends to carry a great many secrets already, which makes them ill-suited to serve as a Secret Keeper."
It made sense—if both sides were freely casting Fidelius Charms on one another, nothing in the world could ever be found. A magic of that magnitude had to come at a cost.
"You said Sirius Black killed seventeen Muggles and one wizard. Who was the wizard?"
"...Peter Pettigrew. A friend of James Potter and Sirius Black."
"One of their friends? Why would he—?"
"How should I know Sirius Black's intentions."
Malfoy didn't press further. She had the sense that Snape wanted the conversation to end.
"Let us leave it there. Do not even consider making contact with Sirius Black, and if you ever see him, flee immediately and come to me. Whatever his allegiances, we have no reason to welcome him."
"Understood. I'll do that."
"And tell no one what I've told you today."
"Obviously. Do you take me for a fool?"
"It is a precaution. One cannot emphasise it enough. Good. You may go."
She had obtained a fair amount of information, and her questions had been answered. Malfoy rose to leave, then said:
"I had thought you might be the insider who helped Sirius Black get in. It seems I was wrong."
"...What? An insider?"
The word made Snape react sharply. Malfoy gave a small nod.
"Yes. An insider. Sirius Black infiltrated the school at a remarkably convenient time, so I assumed someone on the inside was feeding him information. Someone at least at the level of a professor."
There was genuine admiration in her expression—and just a trace of something more deliberate in her smile. Snape gave a small, slow clap.
"Clever, Carina. Do you have anyone in mind?"
"At first it was you, Professor Snape—but that doesn't seem to be the case, so I'm back to square one. There may not be anyone at all."
"No—there is someone. I believe so as well."
"An insider?"
Malfoy looked puzzled.
Snape had just said that Sirius Black was unwelcome on all sides. Who would help a man like that?
Snape's lips twisted.
"I have only suspicion—no proof. Review what I've taught you today carefully."
"What you taught today? You mean werewolves?"
"Yes. If you write the essay as assigned—one scroll of parchment—then... others may not see it, but you, I think, will work it out."
"Can't you simply tell me?"
"Carina. I have my own position to consider. I cannot speak that secret on the basis of mere suspicion. But if you arrive at it yourself, that is hardly my doing."
Snape showed her out.
"Go on. And congratulations on winning the Quidditch match."
Malfoy picked up a bar of chocolate and made her way to the hospital wing.
Harry Potter had been confined there since the Dementor attack. The Gryffindors were disappointed by the loss, yet heartened by the fact that Harry had produced a Patronus. They seemed to regard it as a defeat by misfortune alone, and were carrying on well enough.
Malfoy had intended to stand over him as the victor. She would toss him the chocolate and tell him to dwell on the sight of himself, felled by a Dementor.
Then she would let slip the information she'd gathered, and watch his smug expression harden as he realised he needed what she had.
Malfoy's complete victory was within reach.
She turned the information over in her mind.
Sirius Black. Once the closest of friends to Harry Potter's parents. The Secret Keeper—and a traitor.
How would Harry Potter react when he heard this?
Would he be horrified? Furious?
No—he might go further than that. He might swear revenge and go after Sirius Black himself—
Malfoy stopped dead in her tracks.
'Go after Sirius Black... himself? He's just a student.'
Absurd.
But the Harry Potter she knew—the Harry Potter who had charged headfirst into the Chamber of Secrets—was entirely capable of it.
'He's already been hunting for Sirius Black. If he hears the man is a traitor, he might lose all reason and go completely off the rails.'
He might tear through the castle with nothing but his wand, or worse, advertise his own location to draw Sirius Black to him.
Even Harry Potter wasn't invincible. His life would be in danger.
'Why should that be my concern? If he wants to go and get himself killed, why should I—!'
Malfoy fumed as she came to a halt outside the hospital wing door.
Voices drifted through from the other side—loud and animated. He had visitors, it seemed.
She stood at the door, opening and closing her fist several times. The chocolate in her hand felt oddly heavy.
She stood there for a long moment, deliberating.
Then she turned and walked away.
Malfoy drifted without direction, her thoughts unsettled.
Her conviction that knowledge was power—that knowledge meant composure—did not always hold true, it seemed.
She had more information than before, yet felt less composed than ever. No matter how she turned it over, no answer came.
She was walking along the lakeside path to clear her head when she felt a gaze from somewhere ahead.
A large black dog was watching her.
"A Grim...?"
Malfoy raised her wand on instinct. But when she got a proper look at the dog, she let her guard drop.
"No—that can't be right. It's just a black dog."
The dog was large, but painfully thin—not remotely threatening. When a furred animal looked that gaunt, it was a serious matter.
Malfoy waved the chocolate back and forth to shoo it away.
"Tch. A filthy, scrawny thing. Don't come near me. You're unsanitary."
She clicked her tongue and moved to pass it, but the dog's eyes tracked the chocolate as it swung. Its tail was wagging furiously—it clearly wanted the chocolate desperately.
She hadn't intended to eat it herself anyway. She had brought it for someone rather dog-like, and then thought better of it—so giving it to an actual dog seemed reasonable enough.
Malfoy broke off a large piece. Then, just as she was about to throw it, she stopped.
"Can dogs even eat chocolate?"
Woof!
The dog barked impatiently, as if to say: stop deliberating and hand it over.
Malfoy clicked her tongue and dropped the piece of chocolate onto the ground.
"Fine. You chose to eat it yourself. I take no responsibility if you die."
The black dog devoured the chocolate in a single bite.
Watching it lick its lips and eat with such ravenous enthusiasm, she thought it seemed far more likely to die from not eating than from eating.
Malfoy watched for a moment, then set the rest of the chocolate down on the ground and headed back to the dormitory. The black dog feasted.