[ Printer Friendly Version ] [ Report Abuse ]
Chapter 26 : Chapter Twenty-Six: The Enemies Within
| ||Rating: 15+||Chapter Reviews: 12|
Background: Font color:
The Enemies Within
Bright and early the next morning, the alarm clock chirped. Shiloh’s eyes came, but it was a moment before she reluctantly shoved off her blankets. Last night had not been a pleasant one. After she had crawled into bed, she had laid awake, staring at the green canopy above her and pleading for sleep that her restless body refused to give. She had been so very tired and yet images of Valiant’s bruises and the terror in her eyes had tormented her, keeping her awake.
When Symone had crept in the room later that night, Shiloh was still wide awake.
“I thought you’d be asleep,” Symone had commented, as she checked on her. “Feeling any better?”
“Not really,” Shiloh had admitted. The situation with Valiant had made an honest girl out of her. She had certainly been sick to her stomach. And since Shiloh wasn’t about to get to sleep, she had decided that she could ask Symone a few questions. “Did Valiant ever show up?”
“Yes,” Symone said, “after a bit. She never did explain where she had been, though.” There had been a sour expression on Symone’s face as she thought about it, and Shiloh had wondered if Symone felt it too—that something was terribly wrong with Valiant.
Which led Shiloh to her next question. “Have you ever met her parents?” Shiloh had asked.
Symone had frowned and narrowed her eyes suspiciously at her friend. “Why would you ask that?”
Shiloh had known that Symone would question her. After all, she had never had any desire to bring Valiant into conversation before, and she hadn’t exactly kept her dislike of the girl a secret from Symone. So Shiloh had prepared a reasoning that seemed innocent enough. “She was the only one at Christmas Eve without an escort, and I was just curious.”
But Symone had not abated her suspicious stare. “And why do you care about Valiant?”
“I don’t,” Shiloh had said, and she nearly had to convince herself of the fact. She shouldn’t have been asking, should have just brushed it off and forgotten it had ever happened. Valiant and she weren’t friends and she didn’t need to look out for her. But Shiloh couldn’t let it go; it had sunk its cruel teeth into her and wouldn’t let go. “But I was just...thinking.”
Symone had snorted and rolled her eyes, but she knew her best friend well enough to know that Shiloh did indeed go off on long and strange thinking. “You think too much,” she had stated, with another roll of her eyes. She had gazed at Shiloh a moment longer, as though debating whether she wanted to ask what had put her thoughts into her head. But then she had shrugged, as though deciding that it was probably too complicated and not significant enough to waste her time on.
“No, I’ve never met them,” Symone had admitted, “and she never talks about them either. I’ve seen her father on the platform a couple of times, and she always treats him the way you saw. It’s quite rude, and sometimes he screams back at her.” She had made a face, as though she wasn’t sure whether to be mad or sad about it. “I don’t know why he at least wasn’t there for Christmas Eve. Valiant took the Knight Bus and met us at the Leaky Cauldron.”
Shiloh had nodded, somehow disappointed by the knowledge. Perhaps it had been because she was hoping Symone would give her a reason to doubt her suspicions. Maybe she wanted to find out that Valiant came from a happy home, with a loving mother and father who would never dream of harming their child. But nothing Symone had told her gave Shiloh’s uneasiness any reprieve. In fact, it made it worse.
Long after Symone had bid her good night, Shiloh had laid awake. When at last, she had fallen into a fitful sleep she’d been haunted by fragmented dreams of flesh meeting flesh, bruises on pale skin, and a child crying along in the dark. Many times in the night, Shiloh would awake, bolt upright. Her heart would pound, as her mouth parted in a scream that made no sound. Sweating and shaking, Shiloh had wound up her music box and laid back down, stilling wondering whether the girl in the dream had been Valiant or herself.
Now as Shiloh placed her feet on the cold floor, she was thankful the morning had come. No matter how exhausted she was, the morning at least brought an end to the horrible night.
Symone sleepily rolled over, pointed her wand at the magical alarm clock and mumbled the spell that would make it go off in another five minutes. Shiloh was already gathering up her robes and pulling her curtains closed to change on her bed.
Fifteen minutes later, the two girls were both dressed and heading down the hall, leaving their three roommates with the consequences of sleeping through the alarm. They found their friends in the common room. At least, they found Jacob and Nicolette there. Jacob was slumped in the chair, his tired eyes closed. Nicolette was bright-eyed and waved as they entered. Her call of ‘good morning’ woke Jacob from his dozing.
As his eyes flicked to Shiloh’s, they narrowed slightly. Apparently, he was still annoyed about last night. Shiloh didn’t want him mad at her, especially since she had enough to deal with. But she wasn’t sorry for what for what she had said. It wasn’t fair for him to demand her secrets and keep his own.
“Sleep well?” Jacob asked tensely.
“Not really,” Shiloh said. “You?”
“Like hell.” And by the dark lines beneath his eyes, Shiloh suspected it to be true. She wondered what had kept him up tossing and turning.
“Sorry,” Shiloh said, because she didn’t know what else to say. She barely managed to stop herself from fidgeting uncomfortably. The whole conversation felt awkward, disjointed, and she didn’t like it. He must have sensed it, because he gave a smile, not just any smile, but her smile, the quiet, earnest grin.
“It’s fine,” he said, still smiling as though the words meant something more.
And just like that, Shiloh knew that it was okay, they were okay. She smiled back.
Girls had been milling out of the hall behind Symone and Shiloh, but one in particular made her presence known.
“Good morning, ladies!” Persephone called at the top of her lungs, her shrill voice echoing off the stones.
“Morning!” Nicolette called with a grin, at the same time that Jacob called, “Oi! I’m a bloke!”
Persephone only cocked her head and grinned cheekily, in a way that nearly challenged I’m not so sure about that. Jacob snorted and rolled his eyes, and Persephone did the same, copying him in a mocking way.
Persephone closed the distance between her and the others, and Valiant followed a few feet behind. Shiloh’s eyes instantly went to her, and as soon as she looked, Valiant paused, staring back. The flesh around her eye was as pale and white as it had ever been, but Shiloh could almost see it. Bruises faded; memories never did.
The two girls stood there for a long moment, staring at one another. For the first time, Valiant didn’t glare at her or eye her with disdain or ignore her altogether. Instead, she merely eyed her with an expressionless gaze, her cold blue eyes holding just the faintest warmth.
“Hello,” she said.
Shiloh was shocked by the simple word. Besides, the night before she could scarcely remember a time the two had spoken to each other. It was a few moments before she managed to return the greeting. With that, Valiant walked past. Shiloh glanced at Symone, to see if anyone had noticed the exchange, but Persephone had the two girls captivated into some story that she had heard in the Slytherin’s girl lavatory last night.
Shiloh wondered how it was that one incident could remove all the animosity that had been between them. But it had. Shiloh certainly didn’t hate her anymore, and by the friendly greeting, Shiloh could imagine that Valiant no longer hated her. Had her simple act of kindness removed that? Or maybe Valiant was just afraid to get on her bad side, afraid that she would spill her secrets out of spite?
Shiloh had no idea.
“So are we going to breakfast or what?” Valiant grumbled, still looking as sullen and grumpy as ever, but Shiloh was beginning to suspect that was more her personality than anything she should take personally.
Persephone sniffed, drew up her shoulders, and gave her a curt look that made her look nearly identical to her older sister, if her own plait hadn’t been bright green. “You are perfectly at liberty to do whatever you please.”
Valiant narrowed her eyes at the obvious indifference in her voice. “I thought you weren’t talking to me,” she drawled, her voice holding its own annoyance.
Persephone winced, realising her mistake. “I’m not!” she snapped.
“But you just—“
Valiant stopped, shaking her head in fierce anger at the interruption. “Don’t you dare shush me,” she growled.
Persephone did it again, defiantly, grinning as though she knew exactly how much it would aggravate her. “Shhhh!” She even pressed her finger to her nose for good measure.
Truly incensed, Valiant growled, not words, but a low, almost animal like screech. She took a threatening step towards her best friend, who only laughed fearlessly. Shiloh blinked at them. Clearly, Persephone had yet to forgive Valiant’s disappearance and her hiding of the truth, and it was escalating right before their eyes. Shiloh knew that Symone and she had gotten into their share of fights, but Symone had never done more to her than given an angry shove. And Shiloh, even at her angriest, would never dream of harming any of them. But with the look on Valiant’s face, Shiloh had no doubt that she might strangle her so-called ‘best friend’, and with Persephone laughing like a maniac at her, Shiloh thought she might fight right back. Certainly, if they didn’t do something soon, there would be a brawl on their hands. But Shiloh was frozen, unsure what power or even right she had to stop them. Symone was springing forward to separate them, but she never reached them.
“I don’t know about you,” Nicolette said loudly, “but I’m starving.” She jumped up, walked up, wrapped her arm about Valiant’s arm, and pulled her away. Valiant protested, noisily and colourfully, but Nicolette only ignored her and yanked her towards the common room door.
“Drama, drama, drama,” Jacob said, climbing to his feet and clucking his tongue disapprovingly.
Symone latched her arm with Persephone and pulled her forward, hissing into her ear something Shiloh couldn’t make out. Probably trying to talk some sense into her, but Persephone pushed her away, said something about not being the one Symone should be lecturing, and stormed off.
Symone stomped her foot in irritation, cursing her Slytherin pigheadedness.
Shiloh and Jacob followed after the four silently. Shiloh caught up with Symone and touched her arm inquiringly.
“Oh they’re fine,” Symone replied, though her voice was tense. “They fight like this sometimes, but they always work it out.”
Shiloh hoped so. It was drama, like Jacob said, and Shiloh thought she had enough drama in her life without them adding unnecessary bits. Of course, Persephone didn’t know what Shiloh knew. All she knew was her best friend was hiding something, and she didn’t like it. And she was right not to.
There was a thick, uncomfortable silence between all of them as they made their way to the Great Hall, but with each step, Shiloh’s own silence grew less and less about the two girls’ quarrel than about who awaited for her behind the walls of the Great Hall. She had run away from it like a coward last night, but she could run from it no longer. As she eyed the large door into the Great Hall, it was all she could do to keep her feet steady. Her mouth was dry, her knees longed to buckle, but Jacob was behind her and Symone at her side. She was trapped.
You’re being ridiculous, Shiloh told herself, gritting her teeth. He can’t hurt you.
Forcing more determination into her step, she walked into the Great Hall, purposefully keeping her eyes straight ahead of her. She wasn’t about to look up to the Head table where he would be, but almost as soon as she entered, she felt her skin prickle. She felt the mixture of sub-consciousness and unease, and she knew she was being watched. She paused, her breath a bit unsteady, and forced herself to look up. Even across the large Hall, she saw him: dark hair, pale skin, and those dark, dark eyes set upon her. So much like her. Her father, her greatest enemy.
It was all she could do to keep from shaking.
She felt a hand upon her shoulder. “Shiloh?” Jacob asked, a bit worriedly. “You okay?”
“Fine,” she said, but her voice sounded weak and deflated. She swallowed hard and said it again, trying to sound more certain, “I’m just fine. Why do you ask?”
He hesitated, then removed his hand. “No reason,” he said gruffly.
She followed him to open seats at the Slytherin table. She still felt those eyes upon her, but she wouldn’t look again. He was just her professor, she told herself. Alan Sanders was her father, not Severus Snape. He was nothing more than her professor.
And if she could believe that lie, she might stand a chance of surviving the next five years of magical training.
It was a relief to Severus to see Shiloh come through the doors of the Great Hall that morning. When she hadn’t shown at dinner the night before, Severus’ mind had roamed with possibilities. He’d settled on the worst possibility imaginable; that the girl had told her parents about her discovery and they hadn’t allowed her to return to Hogwarts. It, however, had only taken a few subtle questions to the right people to ensure that Shiloh had boarded the train back to Hogwarts. There were a thousand possibilities of why Shiloh might have missed dinner, but Severus knew what had really caused the girl’s absence.
She was avoiding him.
He was surprised she’d even had the nerve to find her way to breakfast. He felt little hope for that afternoon’s Potion lesson. For a man who prided himself on being right, he was grateful to find he was mistaken. As the Gryffindor and Slytherin second years shuffled into their classroom, Shiloh entered beside her friends and took her stool. She set up her cauldron, never once glancing to the front where Severus stood.
“I do hope none of you neglected your studies over holiday,” Severus said to the classroom, even as one eye trailed on Shiloh. She was staring into her empty cauldron, her hair loose and covering her eyes. “To ensure that all that knowledge didn’t spill out of those heads of yours, I’ve prepared a short quiz.”
He paused, allowing the typical groans, sighs, and even hateful glares to come in his direction. He was already wincing at the prospect of grading these; the answers were bound to be so wrong, they might actually be painful. However, he collected the papers from his desk and began to pass them out.
“Wands and books away, please,” Severus instructed. “That means you, Parkinson,” he added, as he caught the girl attempting to hide her text under her desk.
As he arrived at Shiloh’s desk, he found her buried in her back for the search of a quill. Her dark-skinned friend accepted her paper for and laid it on the desk. Severus gritted his teeth in frustration and moved on. Was she truly so frightened of who he was that she couldn’t even bear to look at him?
But of course, she was. Whatever Ellessa had done to her, it had taught her to feel something but hatred and fear for the Death Eaters. He could not blame her for that, but he hated that she would not even see past it to give him the chance to explain himself. He knew the two of them had never exactly been on good ground and he had never given her a reason to like him, but he had certainly never given her a reason to think he might hurt her. She was a logical girl; he only hoped she considered it when the shock passed. And he hoped it was soon. He didn’t know how much longer he could watch her pretend he didn’t exist or that nothing had happened between the two of them. After all, he’d waited twelve years.
Wasn’t that long enough?
The quiz passed and Severus collected the papers. This time, Shiloh didn’t hide, but she hardly looked at him either. She turned her attention to setting up her cauldron, eager to begin brewing.
Severus assigned the book number and began the typical routine. He wondered if Sanders noticed that he passed by her desk more than was necessary. Never once did he make a comment, unless it was to her friend beside her. He had always known that Shiloh was talented, perhaps one of the only students he would trust not to blow themselves up, but there was something about knowing that it was his talent showing forth that made him appreciate her skills in a new light. He studied the way she cut her ingredients with quick, even chops, and how she didn’t fear deviating from the book. She squashed beans with the side of her knife, instead of cutting them, allowing the juice to flow more readily. It was as though he was whispering his old secrets to her, but she already knew them instinctively. Even the way she paused to write notes in the margins of her books was so purely him. All of it led her closer and closer to a perfect potion.
He felt a strange warmth in his chest, something silly, but wonderful. He was proud of her.
That’s my daughter, he thought.
Noticing his gaze, she glanced up, but only for a moment. She looked away swiftly, looking as though she was a child who had just been caught making a grave error. He took his eyes from her and moved on to the next bench over, where he swiftly caught the girl’s wrist.
“Andreou, the directions specifically say not to add gurdyroot to the brew! Tell me, are you trying to kill us all?”
She gave a shrug, doing her best to act nonchalant, even as her pale cheeks flush red. “Not really, Professor. It’s Monday. It would be rubbish to die on a Monday.”
Severus blinked, released her, and walked off. Again, he found the stupidity of his students to be utterly astounding. And this was one of the girls his daughter chose to associate with. Brilliant. Let the girl blow herself up. He’d be doing society a favour.
Class at last drew to an end. The students collected their pathetic samples of foul-smelling, barely-presentable, and even more rarely decent potions. Shiloh laid hers on his desk and quickly walked away to begin collecting her cauldron. She made swift work of it and stepped briskly into the aisle to make her escape.
Was he just meant to watch her walk our day after day for the rest of her years in this place? He knew the promise he made to Dumbledore; that she would wait until she came to him. But Severus had very little faith she ever would. Could he really just watch her go?
He had spoken her name before he’d even fully made a decision. “Miss Sanders.” Sanders. He nearly gagged on it. He hated her name! Sanders. It should have been Snape. Shiloh Snape. There was something quite pleasing about the way those three syllables chimed together. He hoped to breathe them aloud one day.
She heard her name, froze, but did not turn. Her foot poised off the ground as though debating on running. Her eyes flicked to the friend beside her. The girl shrugged, told her she’d meet her outside, and walked on without her.
Shiloh turned at last. Her face war the typical expressionless face Severus was used to seeing. Her eyes were a bit wider, and he knew it was fear he was seeing just beyond the eyes so like his own.
“Yes, Professor Snape?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder as the last of the students stood before the door.
And what exactly did he mean to say? Explain his whole life history and somehow force her to believe him? Pull her into his arms just to know what it was like to be a father holding his daughter? Ha, he thought not!
And so nothing, not for a very long moment.
“Professor Snape?” she pressed, looking almost curious.
“I just wanted to say well done today,” Severus said, and the words nearly burnt in his mouth. All these years of teaching and he’d never pulled a student aside to congratulate them on their work. Surely, she had to see that. She had to know he would only do it because she was...special to him. “You are quite talented.”
She didn’t smile, didn’t blink, didn’t do anything but stare at him expressionlessly. “Thank you, Professor,” she said flatly. “May I go now?”
He nodded and dismissed her with a wave of his hand. She strode briskly to the door, slipping out before the last student could close it. Severus sighed.
Twelve years, and he waited still.
By dinner that night, little had changed. The sky in the Great Hall was dark and the food was different, but everything else seemed like a copy from that morning. Valiant and Persephone refused to speak to one another, Nicolette and Symone were doing their best to make amends between them, Jacob was picking as his food while glancing occasionally at the Ravenclaw table, and Shiloh avoided looking up at the Head table. Professor Snape did not exist. Professor Snape was not her father. Professor Snape...
“What did Professor Snape want with you after class today?”
Shiloh glanced sharply at Symone, startled at the sudden question, though she shouldn’t have been. She knew she would have asked her eventually. Shiloh had done her best to put the incident from her mind; it was hard to convince yourself that someone didn’t exist when you remembered a conversation you’d had the afternoon.
But Symone was waiting for her answer, a forkful of cherry pie poised away from her mouth.
“He wanted to giving me a compliment on my potion.”
Symone’s mouth fell open and her fork clattered back to her plate. Even Jacob who had tuned in on the conversation looked as though he might fall off his bench.
“He did what?” she exclaimed.
“What you do, Shi?” Jacob asked. “Brew Felix Felicis blindfolded?”
Shiloh shook her head and ground her teeth together, wishing to be as far away from the conversation as Greece was from Mexico.
“Perfection isn’t good enough for Professor Snape.”
Shiloh knew Jacob had a point, which was why she had put the incident far from her mind. A month ago, such a compliment would have been a dream come true, but now it only made her sick to her stomach. There was only one reason Professor Snape had complimented her, and it had nothing to do with her skills. It was because she was his daughter.
But what could he have possibly gotten out of stroking her ego? Was an attempt to gain her trust? Why would he want that? If he meant only to hurt her, he wouldn’t need such a thing. If he wanted, he could have retained her in the potions classroom until they were alone, but he hadn’t done that.
Shiloh was confused. She didn’t understand Snape at all, no matter how she attempted to pull apart the pieces of his personality, she couldn’t. He was mysterious and complicated. She really knew nothing about him, except that he was a Death Eater who had some sort of a relationship with her mother. And as long as that was all she knew about him, she couldn’t trust him. She would stay away from him, no matter what he said or did that might make her doubt his evil.
Sick of attempting to eat, she pushed her plate away and climbed to her feet. Nicolette, Symone and Persephone had finished as well and got to her feet, but Valiant, despite the fact that her plate was empty, remained where she was. Jacob said he’d stay with her, but with the way he continued gazing at the Ravenclaw table, Shiloh reckoned he had other reasons for remaining behind.
The four girls headed back to the dungeons, Nicolette asking advice about the essay Binns had assigned for homework. Since it had been part of the curriculum for the second years last year, the three second years could give suggestions on what she would do. The conversation, however, went from discussing homework to talking about how dreary a professor Binns was.
“I nearly go into a coma every class period,” Persephone whined.
“Yes,” Nicolette agreed. “He is dead boring.”
Persephone snorted at the lame joke. Shiloh rolled her eyes. Symone shook her head and said, “Lame, Nicci. Really lame.”
Nicolette giggled. “I know.”
Shiloh was the first to round the corner towards the common room. Two fifth year students, a boy and a girl, were standing before the wall, hissing together furiously. The four girls paused for a moment, but it was no one they recognized so they started forward. Hearing their footsteps, one of the two turned and called, “Hey, wait!”
Symone frowned, glanced at the others, before she shrugged in confusion and led them forward. “What’s going on?”
“Stop right there!” he called to them, but they were already a few feet from them.
“Why?” Persephone demanded, springing forward easily. “You don’t own the halls, and we have places to go.”
“Fine,” the boy snapped. “Go right ahead.”
“I will.” Persephone swayed up to the hall and called the password.
The fifth years stared at her, as though in surprise, and Shiloh wondered what exactly was behind their strange behaviour or why it was they still stood there. But in the end, Shiloh decided she hardly cared. Persephone was right; they had things to do.
Shiloh stepped forward or tried to step forward, but her feet did not respond. Her knees moved forward and her arm swung, but her feet didn’t lift from the ground. She tried again, but she could not move her feet. She looked at Symone who too was staring down at her feet, jerking her knees but not moving forward.
“I’m stuck!” Nicolette cried from behind them. “I can’t move my feet!”
“Us too,” said the fifth year girl.
“What you on about?” Persephone said. She turned back from where she stood in the entrance to the common room and frowned at them. “What do you mean you can’t move?”
“We can’t move!” Symone snapped. “What’s not clear about that?”
Persephone sprang past the fifth years, seized Symone’s wrist, and tugged. She only served to throw Symone off balance. Symone hit the ground, gritted her teeth pain, for despite being on her knees, her feet had remained flat on the floor.
“Merlin, Seph!” Symone gritted her teeth as Persephone quickly got her back to a standing position.
Knowing this had to be due to some sort of wand work, Shiloh pulled her wand from her pocket, but the fifth year girl said, “Don’t bother. We’ve already tried everything.”
Shiloh hesitated, but decided that there was no spell she might have known that they wouldn’t already have tried. She tucked it back in her pocket. “So why aren’t you stuck, Persephone?”
Persephone shrugged her shoulders. Shiloh wondered what possible difference there was between them, something a spell might have been able to effect. An idea was popping into her mind, when the fifth year boy spoke, clearly having had time to consider it.
“Any of you purebloods?”
“Yeah, I am,” Persephone replied. “But what’s that got to do with anything?”
Shiloh ignored her for a moment, trying to consider the possibility. “You two Halfbloods?” Shiloh asked the fifth years, and they nodded.
Under their questions, Symone admitted she was a Halfblood, and Nicolette said she was too. Shiloh hesitated before she answered. Her blood was always something she had questioned, because she had never known who her father was. Though she knew her father’s identity, she had never stopped to ask his blood. She didn’t know whether he was Halfblood or Muggleborn, but she at least knew what she was—for the first time in her life.
“Halfblood,” she said, knowing for the first time it was true. “I’m a Halfblood.” And she was almost grateful. She was proud to be a Halfblood.
After the conversation, no one had to explain anything then. The four girls stared at each other, and Nicolette murmured, “Oh.” The small sound spelled the situation out between them. Someone had placed a spell outside the door of Slytherin that kept anyone who wasn’t a pureblood from entering. More than that, it left them stuck and trapped, like mice on Sticky Charms.
The Heretics had been unquestioned for a long time, but now it was clear: someone was fighting back.
Persephone sucked in a breath. “Maybe I should go get a professor.”
“Brilliant idea,” Symone said, and Persephone was springing forward when Nicolette caught her wrist.
“Look,” she pointed a finger towards the common room door that had slid closed. A piece of paper hung there, seeming surreally like the paper that the Heretics had hung there.
Persephone closed the distance towards the door, got the paper, and returned it to them. She held it between them so the four girls could read what it said. Shiloh leaned her body close, and the first line made her flinch.
To you filthy Halfbloods, maggots, and so-called Heretics.
“Read it,” the fifth year said gruffly.
“Okay,” Persephone agreed. “But remember, it’s their words, not mine.”
He swallowed and nodded, and Persephone began to read.
“To you filthy Halfbloods, maggots, and so-called Heretics,
For years, filth such as you as been allowed to pollute the Most Noble House of Slytherin, that our founder, Salazar Slytherin, set aside for the pure. Now, the Heir of Slytherin has come to return Slytherin and Hogwarts to its former glory. We, the Elite, Pureblood, and Rightful Occupants of the Most Noble House of Slytherin, mean to assist him. We will fight for what we believe.
We believe that those who are pure of Muggle blood are stronger, more magical, and more powerful, and therefore should hold more rights in this world. We believe that those who are tainted with the blood are weak and unfit to belong in the house of Slytherin. We believe that those born of Muggles are thieves of magic and should be punished for their crimes. Anyone who is in the house of Slytherin and goes against this, those who call themselves the Heretics, is no better than they, and should be cast out of Slytherin.
This is what we believe, and we shall not compromise it. We will fight for what we believe in...no matter what the consequences. And we will win.
Enemies of the Heir beware; purebloods will reign supreme once more.
By the time Persephone was finished, her voice was shaking. Nicolette was pale white, Symone was gritting her teeth, and Shiloh felt a mixture of anger and fear.
“I think you should go get Jacob now,” Shiloh said softly. He should be there. “And a professor.”
Persephone nodded and hurried off.
“This is all those bloody Heretics fault!” the fifth year boy growled, tugging at his blond hair in frustration. “If they’d just left things well enough alone—“
The girl caught his hands, silencing him. “But at least someone’s fighting, and Merlin knows, someone’s got too.”
And more than ever Shiloh knew it was true, but everything had just grown far more dangerous. The Heretics had always known it would come, but now it was finally here. There fight had torn into a battle. Their rebellion had created war.
So it begins.
Author's Note: Chapter title comes from the song “We Are” by Ana Johnson. You should look up the song, as it is totally the Heretics’ theme song! Also, my hat goes off to the sensational Molly/OliveOil_Med for giving me the idea for the Elite’s prank. Yes, I wish I had come up with such a brilliant idea on my own, but it came solely from her extraordinary mind! Oh, and she beta-ed this too. Isn’t she something?
Please leave a review! I love hearing from all of you!
Oh, and if you're dying for more in the Shiloh and Snape drama, take a peek at my author page. There is a new story there that all readers of OTWAD are sure to enjoy!
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Other Similar Stories