Part the Second
“Friendship is love without wings.”
—Lord Byron
There was a great deal of shouting through the floo. Dionysia made Octavian stay in his room and after about half an hour put up a silencing charm, but that didn’t mean that Octavian couldn’t feel the tension in the manor.
It all had to do with Ollivander. That strange comment about his parents had caused all this trouble. He supposed it must be true then. His mother hadn’t taken a potion to conceive. His sister—no, his mother—had given birth to him out of wedlock. Such an occurrence was frowned upon in pureblood society—and that was putting it lightly. No wizard wanted bastards running about. They could be half-bloods or just a stain on his character, a humiliation to his wife, who was the mother to his heirs.
Octavian knew that Lucrece had been engaged to Evan Rosier, a pureblood who had also been a Death Eater. He had been killed by Aurors shortly after the Potters had died. If Lucrece had claimed that that relationship was consummated, perhaps it wouldn’t have been as bad considering the engagement and the uncertainty of the times. However, if his father was Lord Malfoy—
No, he refused to believe it.
His father was Troy, Lord Prince. His mother was Dionysia. He had his father’s eyes and his mother’s hair. True, there was not much else that tied them together as a family, but it was enough. He also had the same bearing as Lucrece Prince, if pictures were anything to go by.
He also didn’t know what this Lord Malfoy looked like. They probably didn’t resemble each other at all. The rest of Octavian’s features probably came from his brother Octavian Romulus or some distant ancestor.
Nodding his head, he opened the door (fortunately it hadn’t been locked) and went in the direction of the shouting. He was supposed to be in bed.
Dionysia was pacing the floor nervously in her lightweight purple and black robes. She was always fashionably dressed but understated. No one could doubt her lofty position in society as she favored purples and blues, but she never shoved anyone’s face in it. Sometimes Octavian wished she would, some purebloods thought themselves equal to the Princes when clearly they weren’t, but he still had more to learn in the art of politics.
“I need to speak to you and Father. Now,” he stated imperiously, just as he had been taught by his tutors.
“Your father is busy.” Dionysia’s brown eyes flashed up before turning once again to the oriental carpet she was pacing.
“Speaking with my sister, I know,” he said. “However, I think I have some say in this whole—problem—and I would like my say. Now, please. It’s important.” Octavian spoke with as much bravado as he could muster—it was a difficult situation, after all—but he had to make his mother—grandmother—mother understand.
She bit her lip and then nodded. Moving toward Troy, she touched his shoulder, and he took his head out of the fire. “Octavian has something to tell us.”
“Not now. I demmed well need to speak to Lucrece,” his voice gruff as always.
“Lucrece can wait. Our son wishes to speak to us.” Dionysia looked at him pleadingly, as Troy looked over his shoulder to where Octavian was standing, shoulders back, back straight, hands clasped in front of him. Troy harrumphed.
He then sighed, as if the world was on his shoulders. He stood and came over to Octavian. “We better have a seat.” He led them away from the floo and toward the sitting room where Octavian sat in a comfortable armchair. He was perched on the edge, his elbows resting on his knees, his shoulders hunched. It was very undignified, especially as he was in pajamas, but he didn’t really care. He’d already made his point.
Looking up, he met the gaze of Troy and Dionysia. “I take it that my sister is actually my mother.” Dionysia opened her mouth, but he just continued, “Don’t say anything. Just let me get this out. I don’t know if Lucius Malfoy is my father or Evan Rosier or some other wizard. I don’t care. I’m your son. You raised me. I’m Octavian Nür Prince, no one else. This doesn’t change anything. If you have to yell at Lucrece, then please do it once I’m at Hogwarts. This is my last night before I leave on the Express.”
“That’s incredibly mature of you,” Dionysia said, coming up and giving him a hug. “Thank you, Octavian. We love you so much.” She was always the more emotive of his two parents, and Octavian loved her for it. Troy would never speak of love but only of how proud Octavian made him. He rarely showed disappointment, as he saw it as his own personal failing in not teaching Octavian some lesson.
“I know, Mother,” Octavian whispered into her shoulder. “I love you, too.”
He looked over at his father, yes, he would say father. “I guess we know why I don’t look like you.”
Troy barked a laugh. “It definitely solves who you do look like, that’s for certain. At least you have your mother’s hair and my eyes. You’re undoubtedly a Prince.”
“Once a Prince, always a Prince,” he quoted.
“Always,” Dionysia whispered.
“I just have one question,” he asked nervously. Something was prickling at the back of his mind. Octavian Romulus had died five years before he was born and the only other heir was the half-blood Severus Snape. Octavian knew how much Troy hated him, how he thought he was a stain on the name of Prince. Another heir had been needed. He was, in many ways, convenient. He cleared his throat. “Would you have taken me in, if I was a girl, I mean?”
“Of course,” Troy said. “You’re our child. We would have had to seek out other means to gain an heir, of course, but you would always have been a child of the House of Prince.”
Octavian felt himself deflate a bit. “Oh, good,” he said. “I was worried for a second.”
Octavian was not prepared for the shock he would feel when he met Draco Malfoy. The two of them looked so similar, it was hard to deny that they were related. Although Octavian’s features were not as pointed and his lips were fuller, they had the same ears, the same cheekbones; their eyebrows were even the same.
Draco just stared at him, taking in his features. “Is your mother or grandmother a Malfoy?” he asked suspiciously.
They were on the train and Octavian was trying to find some of his childhood acquaintances. He’d run into the third year Slytherin car instead. Clearly it was his unlucky day.
“Not that I know of,” Octavian said truthfully. “My mother is a Bones.”
Draco hummed. He stuck out his hand. “Draco Malfoy, son of Lord Malfoy.”
Octavian reluctantly took the hand. Frankly, after yesterday, he wanted nothing to do with the Malfoys. “Octavian Prince, son of Lord Prince.”
“I was wondering when we’d have another future Lord here at the castle. We’ve had a woeful lack. There’s a Bones, but she’s a half-blood and, of course, Lord Black doesn’t have children. They say he’s heading for Hogwarts.”
“Well, only the old gods know why,” Octavian stated. “It’s just full of school children.”
“And Harry Potter,” Draco observed. “Come, sit with us.”
Octavian looked in the car. He didn’t recognize anyone. It would, however, be impolite to refuse. Fortunately, he was holding Prospera in his arms, and the little kitten gave him strength. He entered the compartment and looked around.
“This is Theodore Nott,” Draco said, pointing to a boy with chocolate brown curls and brown eyes, “Blaise Zabini,” here was a boy with dark skin and even darker eyes, “Pansy Parkinson,” a girl with a pug nose and black hair, “and Daphne Greengrass.” She was a girl with blonde hair and brown eyes. “We’re all in Slytherin, of course.”
Octavian could tell from the robes. They’d already changed.
“Which house do you think you’ll be in?” Draco asked conversationally as he took a seat, making room for Octavian. Of course, Octavian did not want to sit next to him. He didn’t want the others to draw similarities between their appearances.
“Well, my father and sister were in Slytherin. Mother was in Ravenclaw,” he commented, “but I’m not entirely certain. I don’t think I’m remotely cunning.”
“You could surprise yourself,” Daphne suggested.
It was true, he could surprise himself, Octavian thought. He just didn’t think it was that likely.
“And all the Lords end up in Slytherin, at least most of them anyway,” Theodore Nott added. “You’re said to get the best education in Slytherin for leadership. I can’t imagine getting it in Hufflepuff.”
There was a shared laugh. Octavian didn’t join in for the simple reason that he was afraid he was going to be in Hufflepuff. Troy Prince had been in Slytherin. Dionysia had been in Ravenclaw. Both Octavian Romulus and Lucrece had been in Slytherin, he guessed. He would look an absolute fool if he got sorted somewhere else.
A cold settled over the compartment.
“Did the warming charms go off?” Pansy asked, looking around, and then the lights went out.
“I don’t think that’s a malfunctioning warming charm,” Blaise suggested. He stood up and went to the door and opened it up, looking up and down the hall. “It seems to be a hallway malfunction. I’m sure it will be back up in a moment.”
Octavian, however, could see his breath. “Are you sure? This is unearthly cold for September.”
“Prince is right,” Draco observed, “it’s—“ But he became silent. Their breaths all began to rasp and Octavian was lost in a memory.
He was so happy. Flushed from flying. He was over at Jamie Urquhart’s home. The Urquharts were barely in their social circle but Troy fortunately let Octavian associate with Jamie, whom he rather liked.
He could see his father in the distance, and, wanting to show off his new skills, he got back on the broom and flew over to his father.
Troy had been so livid. He had taken the broom and snapped it on his knee, screaming about how his brother Octavian Romulus had died falling from a broom, and did he want to die the same way? Octavian just remembered looking down at the splinters of the broom, at the joy it had brought him, how he knew he had been forbidden from ever riding one, but had thought that if his father could only see, then he would understand.
The cold passed and Octavian sucked in a breath and looked around him. He rushed to the door and saw a cloak with moldy and scabbed hands protruding from it gliding down the hallway.
“Dementors!” he declared to the white-faced students. “Why would they let dementors on a train?”
“By the gods, I don’t know,” Pansy whimpered. “That was horrible!”
Octavian could only agree.
He soon excused himself to change into his robes. His trunk was on a luggage rail, but with the help of a few simple spells he’d been taught using a practice wand, he was able to get his clothes out. He didn’t want to go back to the Slytherin compartment, though. Draco was far too unsettling.
Instead he thought about Jamie Urquhart. Jamie was his year, although born in February, and the two had been childhood playmates. Fortunately, Troy had purchased a newer model of broom after the incident, so Octavian had soon been forgiven.
Jamie Urquhart was in a compartment full of other first years.
“There you are!” Octavian exclaimed. “I’ve been looking all over for a friendly face.”
Jamie was just putting away a game of exploding snap and smiled at him. His blue eyes glinted in the compartment light and his black hair had an almost purple sheen to it. “I’m glad you found me. What did you think of those dementors?”
“Oh, they were horrible,” Octavian complained. “I’d never been near one before. Wait until I tell Father. He’ll be furious.”
“And of course his word carries weight, as it should,” Jamie mused. “I’m afraid no one would pay attention if Mum or Dad made a ruckus. We’re purebloods but we’re not that important.”
“I’m sure you’re more important than the Weasleys,” a girl with curly strawberry-blonde hair and glasses perched on her nose said. “I mean, how more unimportant can you get?”
Octavian looked at her. “I don’t think I’ve heard of the Weasleys,” he answered truthfully, “which means Father didn’t think much of them.”
She smiled, and held out her hand. “Astoria Greengrass. I guess as a reference I would have to say I’m childhood friends with Draco Malfoy.”
Taking her hand, Octavian said, “I think I met your sister, Daphne, just now. She was in a compartment with Malfoy.”
“Yes, she would be. They’re all Slytherins together.” She sighed. “I think I’ll be in Ravenclaw.”
“Ravenclaw’s not bad,” a boy put in. “All my family’s been in Ravenclaw. I only hope I’m smart enough to get in.”
“Well, I know I’m not smart enough,” Octavian commented, thinking briefly of his mother. “I do all right in my studies, but that’s just because I study until I have it memorized. I don’t have any book smarts to get me through.”
“What house do you think you’ll be in then?” Astoria questioned.
“Well, I’m hoping Slytherin,” Octavian answered truthfully. “Father and my sister were in it. I just don’t want to let them down.”
“I doubt you could do that if you wanted to,” Jamie observed. “Apart from riding a broom, you can do no wrong in your father’s eyes.”
Octavian, however, couldn’t quite shake the feeling when he was standing with the other first years, waiting to be called into the Great Hall, however. Octavian was afraid he’d end up in Hufflepuff. Theories were running rampant as to what they had to do to get sorted. Some idiot suggested they had to answer a riddle that had four possible answers.
What kind of riddle had four possible answers?
Octavian wished he hadn’t had to leave Prospera on the train. He would have liked to have held her and petted her about now. He didn’t know what house he was going to get. He knew his father—grandfather—Troy wanted him to be in Slytherin, but he really didn’t see it. He didn’t think he was particularly brave either and he was only really studious when it came to divination.
McGonagall, finally, called them in and there was a strange hat that they apparently had to put it on their head.
Octavian was near the end of the alphabet. His nerves mounted and he could feel Draco’s eyes on him. Henri Jacques was strangely missing.
When his turn finally came, the hat was placed over his head and fell over his eyes. Well, this is interesting… you hold a secret, young man. The voice surprised Octavian so much that he visibly startled. The hat chuckled. Now, where to put you? Not Ravenclaw, I can see that. You haven’t got the bravery for Gryffindor either. However, that secret. It makes you both loyal and extremely cunning. You also have the potential to be a great Lord, well, yes, I see it would make your family happy. Better be… SLYTHERIN!
He really did almost fall off his seat.
Octavian first encountered Harry Potter after a duel. He’d rather got caught up on the sidelines, wanting to get through the corridors, but had been unable to pass. The duel was, naturally, between Harry and Draco Malfoy. Draco’s arm was in a cast, but that didn’t seem to stop him. Quite the reverse, in fact.
“Fighting with a cripple, are we, Potter?” he accused. “You know, that hippogriff almost took my arm off.”
Octavian rolled his eyes. From the way he heard it, it was only a scratch. Then again, that was according to a Ravenclaw. The Slytherins told it much differently. To be honest, Octavian wasn’t sure whom to believe. It was all rather mixed up—and Draco’s arm was in a sling and he had been in the hospital wing.
The fight soon broke up after that and everyone scattered. Octavian, however, lingered. “Henri Jacques,” he called out after Harry’s retreating form. He had nothing to say really, except for pleasantries.
Harry turned toward him with a smile on his face, which turned to a frown. Octavian knew that he’d seen that smile before, and that was long before they had met in Diagon Alley.
“Oh, don’t tell me, you, too,” Octavian stated defensively. “It’s just a house.”
“It’s Slytherin house.” The words sounded strange on Harry’s lips, as if he shouldn’t be associating Octavian with Slytherin—as if this would have been wrong, at one point. Octavian couldn’t quite place it.
“I suppose I could say the same about Gryffindor, but I won’t,” he said decidedly. No, Harry should be Hufflepuffed. He wasn’t even sure what that meant. “What’s to say we can’t still be friends? It’s no more of an obstacle than you being a half-blood, per se.”
Harry drew himself up. “What does my blood have to do with any of this?”
“Well, what does my house have to do with it either?” Octavian inquired. He deflated a bit. “We’re not perfect in each other’s eyes, clearly, but we can still be friends, can’t we?” A strange tune played in his head, begging him to get closer, to come nearer, to reach up and—. “I thought we got on rather well at Florean’s.”
Harry seemed to waver.
“Why don’t you tell me about Sirius Black, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know about him,” Octavian offered. The title ‘Lord Black’ swam in his head. He thought it somehow, possibly, could, just apply to Harry, though he had no idea why or how. “I have a free period and I know the history of the four lords rather well. You’ll get an entirely new perspective on the matter.”
“Well,” Harry began hesitantly. “I know he’s after me. Muttered something about ‘he’s at Hogwarts’ in his sleep before he escaped. He was supposed to be Voldemort’s right-hand man.”
Octavian flinched at the name. “Well, I can’t answer the bit about the Dark Lord,” he began. “However, I can tell you that he was the white sheep of the Black family. He was supposedly cursed off the family tapestry when he ran away from home to go live with his friend—“ he looked at Harry hesitantly “—James Potter. They were in Gryffindor together.”
“What?” Harry yelped, clearly gob-smacked. Octavian hated seeing that look on his face. “No one’s told me that!”
“Well, I doubt they would. Would they really want you to know that a mass murderer was friends with your father? I mean, my sister was engaged to a Death Eater. If Father had known he would have put a stop to it right away, but it happened to everyone. This fiancé was apparently taken down by the great Alastor Moody.”
Harry clearly didn’t know what to say about all of this.
Octavian just shrugged, wanting to see Harry smile again, though knowing that with the current conversation it was unlikely. “All I’m saying is that Death Eaters hide in plain sight. I know Lord Black’s younger brother was also a Death Eater, but that’s neither here nor there.”
“I can’t believe there was a Death Eater in Gryffindor. That’s just—I was told that all Death Eaters came out of Slytherin.”
“And who told you that?” Octavian demanded, defensive. “A Gryffindor perhaps?”
“Now that I think about it, he probably was in Gryffindor,” Harry said thoughtfully, before shaking his head. “This is just—so much to take it. What will people say if they know I’m friends with a Slytherin?” he said, circling around to the original problem. His eyebrows were bunched together and Octavian wanted to reach up and smooth the lines away. It was a rather odd impulse.
“They’ll know you have excellent taste,” Octavian said decidedly. “It can’t harm your reputation to be friends with the son of Lord Prince.”
“You purebloods put an awful lot of stock in this ‘lord stuff,’ don’t you?”
“Quite.”
Octavian hated Severus Snape. He was also wary of Professor Lupin.
When Lupin had him round to tea one Hogsmeade weekend, he wasn’t entirely certain what to think. He had a rather long Transfiguration essay to complete that he’d rather be doing, which was saying something, but one should always be polite to one’s professors.
At least, that’s what his father had always taught him.
“So, Mr. Prince, I knew your brother Octavian when he was here at Hogwarts. I’m surprised that you don’t seem to play Quidditch, though you are only a first year. Madam Hooch tells me, though, that you have opted out of her flying lessons.”
“I’m not allowed on a broom,” Octavian answered, trying not to sound sullen. “Father is quite strict about it.”
“You, of course, meaning your brother’s unfortunate accident.”
Octavian wasn’t certain what to say to that. It was the truth, after all, and didn’t seem to need a confirmation.
“Your brother was a year or two below me in Hogwarts, in Slytherin, of course, while I was in Gryffindor, but he was always decent to the other houses. He took a Hufflepuff under his wing that last year, no one was really sure why, but we all admired him for it.”
“I don’t know why you’re telling me this,” Octavian ventured.
“I just thought you might want to know a bit more about him, what he was like from someone who was around his own age. I found I was quite a different person at Hogwarts than I was at home. You’re also so young. You never had the chance to know him.”
“No, I suppose I didn’t.” Octavian took a sip of his tea. “However, I like to leave his memory untouched. I was named for him and I can tell you that’s more than I need to know about him. That and the accident.”
“I see.”
Silence descended over them.
“Professor Flitwick tells me that you are quite the promising student. He says you’ve completed your charms work past the holiday and seem to excel at every piece of coursework he throws at you.”
“Yes, I like charms. I was never fond of it during my private lessons, but then again those charms were so simple and only on a practice wand. This is quite different.”
“Yes, I remember what it was like to have my first wand. I still have it actually. Ash. Dragon Heartstring. Thirteen and a quarter inches.”
Octavian looked toward the desk where Professor Lupin was pointing. That was when he saw the dog basket in the corner. “Do you have a dog?” he asked. “I didn’t know we were allowed them here at Hogwarts.”
“Ah—there are different rules for professors,” Lupin hedged.
The interview fortunately ended soon after that.
Snape made it no secret that he disliked Octavian. However, he was always polite to him. It was quite bizarre and even Octavian’s closest friend, Jamie Urquhart, remarked on it. “Does he like you or doesn’t he?”
“He’s my cousin, he has to be nice to me,” Octavian said a little too cheerfully. “Doesn’t keep him from marking me down in Potions, though.”
It was perhaps for this reason that when Octavian noticed from a hidey hole that Professor Lupin was rushing from his office one night and then, not ten minutes later, that Snape did the same—Octavian just had to follow.
He hurried and found Jamie and the two of them followed the trail of the two professors, down the passageway under the Whomping Willow, into some strange creaking hut. What they found was utterly surprising.
“Is that Sirius Black?” Jamie asked in confusion.
“Better yet, is that Peter Pettigrew?” Octavian whispered in alarm. “Is that Severus Snape?” He looked over to Snape who was lying stunned on the ground. His eyes glinted dangerously and he came out from behind the door. “I demand to know what has been done to my kinsman!” He looked around the room and took in Harry, his two friends Weasley and Granger, and Professor Lupin.
“This doesn’t concern you,” Weasley stated. “Go back and run off to Slytherin.”
“Run off to Slytherin?” Jamie asked, incredulous. “Can you be more insulting? Be a good boy, here’s a cookie, and run home! Now, I believe the son of Lord Prince asked you a question.”
“Not this Lord tripe,” Black said, sounding slightly manic. “I could never take it when I was free, I can hardly take it now.”
“Yes, well, you’ll have to take it, Lord Black,” Jamie defended. “You’re in the presence of the son of one of your peers.”
“Fine, fine. Who’s this kinsman, anyway?” He twirled his wand in his hands.
“Severus Snape is my cousin,” Octavian spat. “He also holds a position at Hogwarts. What is he doing on the ground?”
“I’m afraid he was interrupting, Mr. Prince,” Lupin tried to placate. “Harry stunned him so that we could get to the bottom of this problem.” He motioned to Peter Pettigrew. “I’m sure you understand.”
Octavian spared a glance for Harry. His features had become so familiar, so dear, and that lullaby played hauntingly in the background. “I’m sure I do not understand,” Octavian said haughtily, bringing himself back to the situation. “Was this a duel? Is there not an escaped convict in our midst? Shouldn’t he and the dead one be stunned?”
“He’s got a point,” Granger put in. “We can take you all back up to the school and have this all sorted.”
“I’m for leaving Snape here, nasty bugger,” Weasley put in. “I don’t care who he’s related to.”
Jamie rolled his eyes and shared a look with Octavian.
“So, the two will be stunned and brought to the headmaster’s and Professor Snape will be revived?” Octavian asked.
Harry shrugged.
Snape was not at all happy when he woke up, although he was slightly placated by the fact that Sirius Black was now stunned and on the floor in a mass of dirty rags.
Octavian fell behind with Jamie as he watched Lupin and Snape levitate the bodies of Black and Pettigrew. “It’s strange to think how Azkaban can degrade us so,” he murmured to Jamie. “You would hardly know to look at him that he’s the great Lord Black.”
“It doesn’t seem like he likes to be thought of that way,” Jamie noted. “It’s strange though, considering his upbringing.”
“I sometimes wonder what my brother Octavian Romulus thought of it all,” Octavian mused. “He was the undoubted heir before his death, and now he’s in a crypt at Wolf Hall. It’s just strange.”
They crawled out from under the tree to the awaiting group, but that’s when the cloud cover gave way to the moon.
Lupin instantly dropped his wand. A look of fear passed over his face as he backed away from everyone. “I—I just—“ He turned and ran for the woods. When his wand had dropped, Black had dropped unceremoniously to the ground, but Harry had levitated him again so that he was now floating above the earth.
The sound of werewolf’s call met their ears.
Snape’s eyes bugged out. “Inside, to the Headmaster, immediately,” he ordered, and they all traipsed up the grounds toward the castle. There was no more quiet chatter, just the sound of hurried footsteps on flagstones.
Octavian had never been to the Headmaster’s office, and found it full of portraits that were all staring down at them. He turned on his heel, trying to take everything in, from all the delicate small instruments to the snoozing portraits of wizards in period dress.
“Well, Prince, you and Potter better explain. This is your operation, after all,” Snape said snidely.
Harry instantly jumped in, talking about how Black had abducted Ron and had gone after his rat, who was Pettigrew, how Professor Lupin was involved and then Snape came in before finally Prince arrived and demanded that they be stunned and brought there.
“He’s the son of some stupid Lord,” Granger put in. “It’s all quite Medieval, but everyone seems to be listening to him.”
Dumbledore looked at her over half-moon spectacles. “It’s one of our more antiquated institutions, Miss Granger, not unlike the Muggle monarchy. I would show a modicum of respect to Lords’ houses.”
She looked clearly put out by that, but said nothing.
“Well, it’s time to call the D.M.L.E.”
It was hours before Octavian got to go to bed. He’d been happy to see Amelia Bones, whose hand he lifted to just beneath his lips before releasing it, but some of the legal jargon was beyond him. It turned out that an entire trial to be decided by judge was held in the Headmaster’s office, with each of them as key witnesses. The proof that Pettigrew was alive was the most damning, and in the end, Sirius, Lord Black, was acquitted of all charges and once again a free man.
Chaos erupted in the great hall the next morning when the Prophet arrived declaring what had happened. Octavian’s name was even mentioned, along with Jamie’s and the three Gryffindors’, and Draco congratulated him on a “job well done.” He supposed it was because he had freed one of the four pureblood Lords from false imprisonment.
Troy, however, was not pleased. Later that day, Octavian was summoned to Snape’s office only to find his father there.
“Octavian Nür, what is this I read about nighttime escapades?” It wasn’t so much of a question as a statement.
“It was only the one,” Octavian defended, “and I didn’t trust Professor Lupin so I followed him out of the castle.”
Snape snorted.
“You didn’t trust your professor, so you demmed well followed him.” Troy looked confused. “Why don’t you trust him?”
“Well, he had a dog basket but no dog.—And he’s a werewolf. I think.” He remembered the unearthly howl after Lupin’s quick exit. “Yes, I’m pretty sure he’s a werewolf.”
“Octavian Nür, Hogwarts does not employ werewolves.”
Snape cleared his throat. “Although my participation in this conversation is probably not welcome, I would have to state that Hogwarts has been home to werewolves in the past.” His black eyes shone dangerously, reminding Octavian of Troy in one of his more vengeful moods.
Troy looked over at him. “Speak, nephew.”
“When I was at Hogwarts, there was a boy my year who was a werewolf. He almost killed me, in fact. His name was Remus Lupin. He has now returned as a professor and, with the Wolfsbane potion, is harmless.”
Troy looked livid. “A werewolf? Teaching my son? Almost infecting the great house of Prince?” He shuddered his eyes then stood. “Well, I’ll have this werewolf dismissed by dinnertime,” he declared. “I think I remember my way to the Headmaster’s office.” He placed his fingers under Octavian’s chin and gave him one of his rare smiles. “Well done for aiding one of the four Lords, my son.” He then swept from the room.
Octavian looked after him. He glanced at Snape who nodded at him.
All he now wanted was to go back to Slytherin, curl up with Prospera, and read ahead in his Charms book.
He didn’t see Harry for a few more days, but when he did, Harry had a huge smile on his face. It suited him and Octavian only wished that he had been the one to put it there. “I’m not going back to Privet Drive!” he told Octavian happily. “I’m going and living with Sirius at Grimmauld Place. He’s my godfather, did you know? I absolutely insist you come for dinner. You can come to dinner, can’t you?”
“Owl me and I’ll be sure to be free,” Octavian said with a laugh.
And with that, his first year was done.
Excentryke's Musings 