Harry Potter: The Lion of the Serpent House

Poor Severus... It's entirely due to your own conduct and past deeds...

As the Quidditch matches continued, Slytherin steadily widened their lead. Yet, with only a hundred and fifty points separating the teams, victory still hinged on the Seekers.

Harry watched the match with bated breath, and then came the pivotal moment.

Gryffindor's Seeker, Cormac McLaggen, tilted his broom as if spotting something, accelerating swiftly. His red cloak flashed across the pitch like lightning. Slytherin's Seeker gave chase, but whether due to the broom's inferiority or skill, the gap between the red and green shadows never closed.

Gryffindor's Beaters, the Weasley twins, George and Fred, were formidable despite being rivals. With perfect coordination, they deflected every Bludger aimed at Cormac by Slytherin's Beaters. Then, something strange happened. A Bludger abruptly changed course, hurtling toward Harry.

The Bludger locked onto Harry just as Cormac seized the Snitch, nearly simultaneously. The crowd and players, fixated on the Snitch, barely noticed the rogue Bludger.

It sped toward Harry.

For the second time, Harry aimed his wand at the Bludger and shouted, "Bombarda!" The spell's flash struck a Protego barrier before it could hit, scattering harmlessly. Even if it had connected, it was doubtful the spell would have stopped the iron ball's momentum.

Just as the Bludger seemed destined to strike Harry, it inexplicably lost speed. As Gryffindor and Slytherin players, along with teachers, magically restrained the Bludger, Professor Snape was preoccupied extinguishing flames that had spread across his robes. The fire even reached Professor Quirrell beside him.

"It's definitely the broom's fault. If Slytherin's Seeker had a Nimbus, we would've won!" Draco declared, pinning the loss on equipment. Slytherin's Seeker, perhaps feeling the weight of defeat, bowed apologetically to the Slytherin stands. Comforted by his housemates, he left the pitch. Draco, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, stormed off in frustration.

As the Gryffindors celebrated wildly—Professor McGonagall the most jubilant—Harry prepared to leave the stadium with Zabini and the others.

"Hey, Harry, got a minute?" a Gryffindor called out. Harry was stunned to see Ron Weasley, looking unusually serious. Ron had never spoken to Slytherins unless provoked by their taunts.

"What do you want, Weasley? Here to gloat? Bet it's fun to laugh at the losers. Nice hobby," Zabini snapped, his mood soured by Slytherin's defeat. Azrael and Farkas were equally on edge.

"Hold on, Zabini. Ron talking to Slytherins is a big deal. Go on, Ron," Harry said, calming Zabini to hear Ron out. He noticed Ron seemed untouched by the victory's joy.

"Look... my friend saw Snape casting a spell on the Bludger," Ron said hesitantly.

According to Ron, Snape had targeted Harry with magic. The four Slytherins couldn't dismiss it as a mere mistake.

"I remember Snape's robes catching fire when the match ended," Farkas noted.

"Maybe his spell broke, and that's why Harry's safe. I don't like suspecting people, but it's possible, right?" Ron added. He was relieved Harry was with friends but knew accusing their Head of House took courage. Hermione, who'd witnessed it, was unsure if Slytherins would believe her, so Ron spoke on her behalf.

"Thanks for telling me, Ron. Snape's never liked me. I won't ignore your warning," Harry said.

"Be careful, Harry. Snape's into Dark Arts," Ron warned. Azrael frowned but said nothing as Ron left. The group huddled, whispering theories about the Bludger's culprit.

The next day, in their dorm, Harry and his friends debated.

"The culprit's Ricardo Marcenas. No one else has a grudge like his," Zabini said confidently, naming the obvious Slytherin suspect.

"But if I were Marcenas, I wouldn't act now. Everyone would point to him," Farkas countered.

Zabini scratched his head. "So, it's Snape, like Weasley said? Azrael, Harry, what do you think?"

"I don't want to believe a Slytherin—friend or teacher—would target Harry," Azrael said firmly.

"You've suffered enough because of Marcenas," Zabini retorted, exasperated.

"How can you so easily suspect our house or teachers?" Azrael shot back, turning to Harry. "What do you think?"

Harry's instincts warned against jumping to conclusions based on others' words. "I've been writing to Sirius Black. He wants to meet and talk, especially since I suspect Snape after Ron's story."

Harry shared his connection with Sirius, who'd been sending regular letters. Unsure how to reply at first, Harry had asked Farkas for advice, blushing at his response.

"I write about you to my parents," Farkas said.

"Most Hogwarts kids probably do," Azrael added.

Harry had never met Sirius or spoken to him directly. His letters focused on his three dorm mates, sent via Sirius's owl, Hedwig, who was remarkably reliable. Sirius's replies, often humorous, expressed joy at Harry's well-being in Slytherin, though he teasingly likened Harry to a Gryffindor—much to Harry's chagrin. He wanted to be praised as a true Slytherin.

"He's worried about you," Farkas said.

"I'd rather it wasn't Snape..." Harry admitted. Snape was inexplicably harsh toward him, and Ron's account made him a likely suspect. Yet, like Azrael, Harry loved Slytherin. Emotionally, he wanted Snape to be innocent, despite the gray evidence. As for Marcenas, Harry doubted he'd go as far as murder, but retaliation was possible. Investigation was needed.

"Let's start with Marcenas. Even if he didn't do it, his friends might have," Harry decided, opting to systematically eliminate suspects.

In the Slytherin common room, the incident was the talk of the house.

"It's got to be Marcenas targeting Potter…"

"Stop it, suspecting our own…"

"But still…"

Like Harry's group, most students eyed Marcenas, who bore a grudge against Harry. Marcenas and Carrow, visibly uncomfortable, endured the suspicious glares. Harry felt a mix of pity and satisfaction, recalling Marcenas's past actions against Azrael. Marcenas looked pale, stealing glances at Harry.

Most Slytherins had been at the match, including Marcenas and Carrow. As Marcenas, overwhelmed, moved to retreat to his room, a female student spoke up—the same one present when Harry used Revelio on Marcenas's belongings.

"Enough! I get how you feel, but stop suspecting Marcenas, my friend. He was cheering for Slytherin with me. He's changed for our house."

Surprisingly, she defended him. Whether out of house loyalty or something deeper, her alibi cleared Marcenas. To prevent lingering suspicion, the prefects spread a rumor that the Bludger's malfunction was due to age and asked Harry to support it. He agreed—being seen as a culprit-hunter wasn't wise.

The next day, Harry noticed Marcenas and Carrow trailing the girl like lackeys. She seemed to enjoy ordering them around, and the trio even visited Hogsmeade together. Harry, seeing Marcenas's pride, concluded he wouldn't target him now and crossed him off the suspect list.

Harry received another letter from Sirius via Hedwig. When Harry shared the match incident, Sirius was furious and insisted on meeting.

"Ten o'clock tonight, Slytherin common room. I know every Floo Powder secret passage," Sirius wrote, boasting of mastering Hogwarts' fireplaces in his student days.

Harry longed to meet Sirius. He planned to thank him for the letters, marveling at having an adult who cared for him like a son—something he'd never imagined.

In the common room, Harry sprinkled Floo Powder, bought from Zabini for three Sickles, into the fireplace.

"Here. You owe me," Zabini said.

"How about a Dumbledore card to settle it?" Harry offered.

"Nah, I've got every Chocolate Frog card. Just talk to Sirius properly," Zabini replied.

"Tell us what you discussed," Farkas added.

"Tomorrow, I'm sleeping now," Azrael said.

"Promise," Harry assured.

Before the fireplace, green flames flickered, reflecting in Harry's glasses. He waited anxiously, wondering if the letter was a mistake or if Sirius had been consumed by the flames. Then, a warm breeze stirred the fire.

"Blimey, the house-elves are slacking on chimney cleaning," a voice remarked.

A lean man with black hair, far more striking than his newspaper photos, appeared. His eyes, blazing with a Dumbledore-like intensity, captivated Harry.

"Um, hi, Sirius. I'm Harry Potter. Thanks for writing to me," Harry said.

Sirius froze, tears welling up. "Sorry, I'm just… you look so much like James."

Harry was stunned to see a grown man cry for him. Like Hagrid, Sirius seemed genuine, and Harry warmed to him instantly.

Sirius apologized first. "As your godfather, I've done nothing for you. I'm sorry I couldn't meet you sooner."

Harry, used to Sirius's written apologies, felt his sincerity and decided to trust him a little.

"I'd love to catch up, but Floo travel's short. Straight to the point, Harry: whether Snape's guilty or not doesn't matter. If you're in danger, stop playing detective. Skip Quidditch matches. Live peacefully with your Slytherin friends."

Harry bristled. "But Sirius, not knowing who's behind it makes everyone uneasy. And leaving me out…"

Sirius hesitated, then spoke firmly. "Your friends won't ditch you over this. Listen, breaking Snape's Protego requires Curse-level Dark Magic—a first-year can't handle that."

His expression shifted. "Time's up! Harry, we'll talk by letter. Stay out of danger!"

Sirius vanished in a rush. Harry stared at the flames, frustrated.

The next day, Snape's mood was the worst yet. He unfairly docked ten points from Slytherin, claiming Harry disrupted Azrael's work at the desk in front of him.