Carina Malfoy's mood was entirely at the mercy of her appearance.
A quick wash of the face, a glance in the mirror—if she was satisfied, the day was off to a perfect start. She would move through her schedule as the elegant, beautiful Carina Malfoy she was meant to be.
But if even one thing was off, the day turned insufferable.
Her hair was the most reliable culprit.
On days when it stuck out at odd angles or lay limp and lifeless, she was irritable from morning to night. And if the flyaways were beyond managing—or if circumstances forced her to tie it back entirely—she stalked the corridors of Hogwarts with a glare sharp enough to dare anyone to cross her.
Today was precisely that kind of day.
Platinum blonde that fell to the small of her back. On any other occasion she would have let it fall freely, but Quidditch practice demanded it be pulled back. Tied with a practical cord rather than anything decorative, cinched tight enough that it wouldn't come loose mid-flight—the pull against her scalp set her nerves on edge in the most unpleasant way.
There were gentler ways to tie it, of course. But a slight edge of irritation sharpened her reflexes, and catching the Snitch required every advantage. Carina pressed her lips together, smoothed the frown from her brow, and stepped out onto the pitch.
"Our first match is against Gryffindor. Naturally, we win. No discussion."
Slytherin's youngest female Seeker lifted her chin and tightened her grip on her broomstick.
A light, agile frame. Senses honed to a fine point. The kind of balance that came from limbs that moved like water. And, not insignificantly, the financial means to upgrade every broom on the team by a full generation.
What one player alone could never achieve, Malfoy had accomplished for the whole squad. The Slytherin Quidditch team with her in it was the strongest in living memory.
"Their brooms are cheap Cleansweeps. Even their best—Harry Potter—is flying a Nimbus 2000, one tier below ours. They'll be chasing our tails like dogs just from the sheer difference in equipment."
Some people said she'd bought her way onto the team. Carina had always found that laughable.
Wealth was a form of ability. No different from balance or strength—it was a resource she possessed and knew how to use. It was the decoration that made her natural talent shine all the brighter.
Marcus Flint, Slytherin's captain, finished laying out the strategy and turned to her.
"Carina. We win, full stop. Don't worry about the rest of us—just make sure you get to the Snitch before Harry Potter does."
Carina inclined her head with practiced grace.
"Obviously. That's my obligation."
She had no intention of losing to Harry Potter.
The arrogant boy who'd become a Seeker in his first year on a special exception she herself had never been granted. She would have preferred to dismiss it as luck, but even Carina couldn't deny that Harry Potter had genuine talent. From his very first year, he'd caught the Snitch in every single match and led his team to victory. He held his own against older students without flinching, throwing himself off his broom to snatch the Snitch out of thin air. His hands were impossibly quick—once he was close enough, he never missed.
There had been a running joke that Gryffindor could only lose if Harry Potter was injured.
Carina had scoffed at that—until last year, when she'd faced him directly and lost without a single excuse to hide behind. She'd been confident in her flying. Her pride had taken a considerable blow.
A complete defeat. And her broom had been the superior one.
It was only because the Chamber of Secrets had opened and left her injured and unable to compete that the Quidditch Cup hadn't gone to Gryffindor outright. Small mercies.
...Though from Carina's perspective, the Chamber of Secrets could have stayed firmly shut.
"Can't something happen this year? If only Potter got injured again and had to sit out—"
"Anyone want to go hex him?"
"...Don't. Last year Montague tried something and ended up found in a bucket of slugs."
"You don't touch a lunatic. That's just common sense."
The players muttered amongst themselves. Carina's eyes narrowed.
"Does everyone here actually believe I'm going to lose?"
The moment she fixed them with that look, gazes began sliding away.
"No, no, it's not that—"
"It's just, you know. The bloke can fly."
"And Carina, you're particularly bad against him specifically."
"Bad?! I am not—"
She stamped her foot. Twice. Then thrust her chin up and snapped:
"I can win this. Last year I lost because he threw himself off his broom and broke his own arm to get to the Snitch first! Just watch—this time, even if I have to break my arm, I'll win!"
"Don't break your arm, Carina. I'd never hear the end of it from your father." Marcus Flint cut in before she could work herself up further.
"Gryffindor's captain, Oliver Wood, is desperate for this. It's his last year—he either graduates with the Cup or he doesn't. He won't push Potter too hard in the first match. If Potter's bones vanish again and he can't play, Wood's whole season falls apart."
"Which means whoever wins this match is the real victor!"
Carina declared it like a verdict and launched herself into the air in a single motion.
The wind against her face was bracing and clean—but then her tied hair swung heavily at the back of her head, and her mood soured immediately. She wanted to rip the cord out right now, but she knew exactly what had happened the last time she'd let it fly loose.
Last year. Slytherin versus Gryffindor. The day Carina Malfoy and Harry Potter had faced each other as Seekers for the first time.
The gap between a Nimbus 2000 and a Nimbus 2001 had been in her favour. Not a dramatic difference, but in a contest between matched opponents, that single edge could be decisive.
Carina had pulled fractionally ahead, the Snitch locked in her sightline. Harry Potter flew nearly level with her, fighting to close the distance. Both of them stretched their hands forward.
A heartbeat before her fingers closed around it, her hair whipped across her face in a gust of wind. The golden glint of the Snitch vanished into a curtain of pale blonde.
She lost her line. Her body veered off course. Harry Potter, seeing it happen, reached out with his free hand and yanked her back—
Even Harry Potter couldn't hold a person steady with both hands off his broom.
Not when one of those hands was already holding the Snitch.
He fell. Hit the ground rolling. Broke something in the process.
And then Gilderoy Lockhart, that fraud, had proceeded to vanish the bones entirely—
The memory made her jaw tighten all over again.
"Are you all just going to stand there?! Release the Snitch already!"
"Here she goes."
"Someone get Crabbe and Goyle. She's going to be unmanageable by the end of practice."
One by one, the Slytherin players kicked off from the ground and rose into the air. Within minutes, they were all fully absorbed in the drill—focused, sharp, and hungry.
To beat Gryffindor. Their oldest rivals.
The moment practice ended, Carina went straight to the dormitory washroom.
She undid her hair, worked a generous amount of glossing potion through it, scrubbed herself clean, and settled onto her bed feeling considerably more like herself.
She checked that no one was nearby, then opened the owl post she'd collected on her way back.
A letter from her father. Lucius Malfoy.
[Dearest Carina,
I heard about Sirius Black's intrusion.
Honestly. What on earth is Dumbledore doing? Dementors at the gates and a fugitive wandering the corridors—one hardly knows whether to call it Hogwarts or Azkaban.
I intend to lodge a formal complaint in the strongest possible terms. That aside, the Slytherin dormitory has excellent security and your Head of House is more than capable, so there is no need for undue alarm.
As for the matter you asked about previously—
I'm afraid I don't know. I'm sorry I can't be of more help.
Do take care of yourself.
With love.]
On the surface, an entirely unremarkable letter. But Carina knew there was a hidden message inside. It was the method Lucius Malfoy used most often.
She pressed her wand to the unnatural gap in the middle of the page. The paper split with a sharp crack, and a space opened within.
She slipped her fingers into the gap and pulled.
The concealed message appeared.
[As for the matter you asked about previously—
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
You asked whether Sirius Black poses a danger to us as well.
I'll answer you honestly.
We don't know either.
Sirius Black was among those who fought against the Dark Lord in the early days. He was also one of the Potters' closest friends.
When word came that he had betrayed them—that he had sold them out—we were as surprised as anyone.
At first, I wondered whether Black had laid a trap to destroy the Dark Lord himself.
The Dark Lord disappeared immediately after departing for the Potters' hiding place, after all.
But I cannot say that with any certainty. The Dark Lord had influence throughout the wizarding world, and there may have been spies even we were unaware of.
Regulus Black—the true heir of the Black family and Sirius's younger brother—was among our most devoted supporters.
There are accounts suggesting the two were not on poor terms. It is possible, then, that Sirius Black was genuinely loyal to the Dark Lord.
I trust you understand what I am telling you.
I know nothing definitive. I suspect no one else does either.
Since nothing can be confirmed, do not approach him. Observe only.
Whichever side Sirius Black is on, he has no reason to involve himself with you. Whatever I consider, his target appears to be Harry Potter.
Severus might know something—but I would prefer you put this matter out of your mind entirely.
Pursuing it further will bring you no benefit.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
I'm afraid I don't know. I'm sorry I can't be of more help.]
Carina set the letter down and raised her wand.
"*Incendio.*"
The paper caught and was gone in an instant. It had probably been made to burn easily from the start.
She sat with the ashes and thought.
Sirius Black. An Azkaban escapee whose true allegiances even her father couldn't confirm.
Nothing was certain—but one thing was: Harry Potter had been trying to meet him. He'd said they'd 'missed each other' during his trip to Hogsmeade. That much seemed clear enough.
But why?
Did he want to kill Black himself? Even Harry Potter—could he really take on a wizard who'd broken out of Azkaban?
The more she turned it over, the more her head swam.
She couldn't make sense of it. What Harry Potter was actually thinking. What Sirius Black intended. And who the insider was who had guided Black to the school in the first place—
Carina's head snapped up.
There was one person who might be able to answer that.
The Head of Slytherin. The Potions Master. Severus Snape.
If Sirius Black had genuinely been a spy, then Snape—who had played the same double role—would know. More than that: Snape himself might have been the insider who helped Black get in.
Her pulse quickened. The excitement didn't settle.
The Malfoy family was Snape's most significant patron. They had used their influence to secure his position at Hogwarts. Surely he would consider her an ally. Surely he would share what he knew.
Which meant Carina could obtain critical intelligence about Sirius Black. The kind of intelligence Harry Potter would give almost anything to have.
At last.
At last, she could stand on equal ground with him.
Carina smiled to herself and lay back against her pillow.
Harry Potter would come to her with that wounded pride of his, practically begging for information. And she would hold it just out of reach, letting him want it. She would make him feel the distance between them.
That was how she'd get rid of the diary. That was how she'd put him in her debt—make him incapable of defying her. Harry Potter would learn to regard her the way everyone else did.
It was a deeply satisfying image. Satisfying enough to wash away every irritation the day had inflicted on her.
Carina smiled quietly to herself, turning over what she might demand from Harry Potter in exchange, and drifted off to sleep.