"You are also a Hallow… Blghb…"
Black covered Ron's mouth, eying around if someone had heard him.
Decked in Slytherin colors of green and silver, the Great Hall around them was full of hubbub.
From the Slytherin table, the cheers hadn't stopped in celebration.
Slytherin had won the House Cup for the seventh year in a row and a huge banner, showing the Slytherin serpent, was propped up on the wall behind the High Table as its testament.
The boys, though, couldn't be stopped looking at Black at this moment.
Draco eyed menacingly at Black, sitting opposite them and next to Harry. "Why didn't you tell us?" he asked, sneering. "Trying to feel special, were you?"
Harry also looked puzzled.
Black tore his hand from Ron's mouth, brushed the saliva away, and chuckled.
"I got it when I was in hospital," he told them, looking at Harry. "Actually, it was the notification that woke me up. My Spell is Magical Script…"
Harry's eyes lit up.
"Is that why you can make the gloves and shoes?!" he hushed away a gasp.
Black nodded. "Much better than Obtuse Sense, right?"
"Acute Sense!" Draco corrected, hissing.
Ron's lips twitched. He looked at Harry and they knew they both were thinking the same thing.
Nothing better than Black if you want to deal with Draco!
The boys were whispering among themselves, but they could still feel the eyes over them occasionally.
Harry, Ron, Draco, Daphne, and Hermione were the talk of the school.
Then there was the matter of Black's strange disappearance from their memories, bringing him to center stage.
As if that wasn't enough, they had heard that the Celebrity alone had stood alone against the Cursed Ice before the Professors took control of it.
So when the boys looked at Darcie Malfoy, it didn't come as a surprise that the reverent gazes of her fans falling upon her seemed to have doubled.
Draco frowned, cursing under his breath.
"You know," Black mumbled, taking his eyes off Darcie, "I heard she woke up at the exact moment as me…"
At first, the three boys didn't know where was Black going with this.
Suddenly, Draco sat up straight so fast that the table jolted. Neville, who was drinking pumpkin juice, snorted it all out from his nose.
Harry and Ron were late, but not by too much.
They gasped.
"You think she got a Spell as well…" Harry gave the voice to Black's guess.
"That's not fair!" Ron almost shouted in anger, grabbing Black's arm. "How's that fair?! Tell me!"
"Leave my arm!" Black snatched away his hand. "How do I know? We already lost the House Cup…"
At the mention of the House Cup, they all frowned together.
Draco, burying his urge to just go to Darcie and ask about the Spell, just sat down and looked at the Slytherin banner.
Never would have he thought that there would come a day when he would wish to see red and gold so much. He didn't care about Gryffindor. He just wanted to win.
"How did we lose?" Harry asked, noticing Draco's look. "We won the Quidditch's Cup, so…"
Black lifted his hand and pointed at the High Table.
They followed his finger and found the person he was pointing at.
A vein suddenly pulsed on Draco's head.
Harry and Ron's mouths tightened into a thin line.
"Pink Toad deducted 100 points each from you three," Black explained. "Daphne and Hermione lost their House 200 points, too. But… she awarded many points to Slytherin as well…"
As if following a cue, the boys' eyes again landed on Darcie.
She was seated at the corner of the table with Daphne and Hermione next to her. Sensing their gazes, perhaps, she snapped her head up and met their eyes.
Darcie smirked.
"I hate Slytherin!" Ron hissed as the boys turned back.
Suddenly, the hubbub died away. Professor Dumbledore had arrived, bringing silence with him. He also brought something else with him, unnoticeable to all but Black.
As if looking at his father for the first time, Black had gone rigid in shock and surprise.
What in the name of damnation…
There was no way for the Ad Infinitum to penetrate Dumbledore's mindscape without invalidating Timeline's deal. However, the sight in front of him was such that he wouldn't even need to use AI.
Albus Dumbledore was radiating… joy.
Happiness, bliss, confidence, and hope…
Black picked up the feelings lingering around the Headmaster like flies buzzing in his ears, irritating him to the highest degree.
This shouldn't have been possible. This couldn't have been possible, especially after the meticulously implanted trauma.
Black kept looking at the bright-blue-eyed, old wizard and couldn't make sense of anything.
Under the table, his fingers balled into fists.
What the fuck is going on now…
"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "What a year it has been! Yes, we encountered werewolves. Yes, we faced the Cursed Ice. But we faced them together; we fought them together. And today, we are stronger than ever. Here, to the dedication all students have shown this year…"
The Headmaster lifted the goblet in his hands and drank.
The teachers followed him, except Umbridge, who, like Black, was unhappy about Dumbledore's cheery attitude.
The Headmaster put away the goblet.
"Now, the House Cup," Dumbledore said, smiling. "Let's look at the points, first. In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six, and Slytherin… six hundred."
All students gulped.
"I heard Darcie got 250 points…" Neville mumbled, smiling like an idiot.
Draco was just one moment away from smacking the grin off his face.
However, a storm had taken over the Great Hall. The Slytherins were cheering louder than ever, stomping, shaking the grounds.
Harry felt sickened.
"Yes, yes," Dumbledore nodded, his smile widening. "Ms. Darcie. Braver than ever. But — she wasn't alone who stood out among her peers this year. We must take many events into account before awarding the House Cup."
Here it comes… Black sighed inwardly. Go on. Award Harry four hundred points or something.
It wasn't that Black had been counting upon Dumbledore's interference to get the House Cup.
He had planned everything out such that the Headmaster would have no choice but to grant Gryffindor the Cup.
"Ahem," said Dumbledore. "I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes…
"First — to Ms. Daphne Greengrass…"
Daphne hadn't been expecting her name at all.
"… and Mr. Ronald Weasley, for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award them fifty points each."
The children gaped at the Headmaster.
Both Gryffindors and Slytherins didn't know if they must cheer or not.
"Second — to Ms. Hermione Granger and Mr. Draco… for not giving up on their senses in the face of fear, I award them fifty points each."
…
The silence was deafening.
Gryffindors were a hundred points up, but so were the Slytherins.
"Third — to Mr. Harry Potter," Albus said. All were looking at Harry now. "… for pure courage and outstanding nerves, I award a hundred points."
And, for the first time, the Gryffindors cheered.
They were still 200 points behind Slytherin. They were still losing the House Cup. Yet, the table erupted with claps.
Until, Dumbledore raised his hand, silencing them all.
His eyes, though, were planted dead on Black.
"Fourth — to Mr. Arlen Black," Dumbledore said, smiling. Silence crept like the Cursed Ice through the Great Hall. "… to look past grudges, to plan for unforeseeable events, and to show utmost trust in friends… I award two hundred points."
Under the roars of claps, Black couldn't do anything but look at Dumbledore and think…
Yes. Something's truly wrong with the old fucker… Again…
**************
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