Harry Potter: The Lion of the Serpent House

"You-Know-Who's after the Philosopher's Stone. I saw a wizard attacking a unicorn in the forest. He's using its blood to survive, planning to revive with the stone," Harry said in their Slytherin dorm the next day.

Zabini, Azrael, and Farcas didn't believe him at first. "Just a beastman spouting nonsense," Zabini scoffed.

"Firenze saved me, Zabini," Harry replied coldly.

"Sorry, don't get mad," Zabini backtracked, sharing the typical Slytherin disdain for wandless beings like centaurs.

"Divination's occult stuff. Trusting it's risky, but poachers still at large is worrying," Azrael said.

"Hagrid said poachers vanished. Unicorn attackers are always dark wizards," Harry added, rubbing his throbbing scar with salve. The pain persisted, but his mind stayed sharp, his scar warning him since last night.

"Cursed blood-drinkers aren't normal wizards," Zabini agreed.

Farcas, silent and pensive, was prodded by Harry. "Farcas, say something."

"The centaur who helped you was Firenze, right?" Farcas asked.

"Yeah, he saved us."

"Then… trust him. Centaur divination, based on astronomy, is real magic. My dad said their advice is never wrong—it's our family creed," Farcas said, unusually talkative. "I believe you, Harry."

Zabini wasn't convinced, skeptical of non-humans and demanding more from Farcas. "What kind of wizards are your family? Just talk?"

"Don't pry into family, Zabini. That's Slytherin's rule," Azrael interjected.

"You don't have to say, Farcas. We're friends," Harry added.

But Farcas continued. "My grandad and dad were Aurors."

"Aurors?" Harry asked.

"Dark wizard catchers, like elite Muggle police," Farcas explained.

"And?" Zabini pressed, regretting his push as Farcas's tone hinted at deeper issues.

"Grandad was Slytherin, dad Gryffindor. Before I was born, during You-Know-Who's time, Grandad learned his followers planned a Muggle attack. A centaur he'd saved warned him of danger."

Harry sensed Farcas's resolve but couldn't fully grasp it. Many Slytherins, like Draco, had relatives tied to You-Know-Who. Admitting Auror lineage in Slytherin was near-suicidal.

"Grandad, alone after losing his team, Apparated to gather help. By the time he returned, the dark wizards had killed Muggles," Farcas said.

Harry was speechless. (So easily? Can people kill like that? Should they die so easily?)

"After peace, people blamed Grandad for not stopping it, called him a coward who fled because he was Slytherin and didn't care about Muggles. He died haunted by it," Farcas continued.

"That's not his fault! The murderers were to blame!" Harry raged, furious that a man who tried so hard was condemned.

"My dad said preparing to win is basic strategy. Those who slandered your grandad were fools," Azrael added.

"Thanks… but my family's neighbors badmouth Slytherins because of it. Dad got sidelined to a low-paying desk job," Farcas said.

Harry recalled Farcas's shabby appearance at Sorting, second only to his own. Dark wizards caused widespread harm.

"I want to be an Auror like Grandad, proving Slytherins can be great. If a dark wizard's after the stone, we stop them," Farcas declared.

"Thanks, Farcas. Slytherin's hated even outside…" Harry mused.

"You told us, Farcas," Azrael noted.

"Because it's you three. You won't tell, right?" Farcas asked.

"No way. I'm not low enough to betray friends," Zabini said, arms crossed, avoiding eye contact.

"I want to improve Slytherin's reputation too," Zabini admitted, hiding his ambition to rise like Sirius beside Harry. He seized Farcas's confession to align without revealing his motives.

"If they're reviving You-Know-Who, when will they strike?" Harry asked, easing the tense air.

"Under a unicorn blood curse, they'd act soon—maybe tonight," Azrael speculated.

Zabini countered, "But Dumbledore's here. What if he's past the fourth floor?"

"Dumbledore's unreliable," Harry said.

"Why? He's Britain's greatest wizard!" Zabini argued.

"He's one man. They'll strike when he's gone," Harry insisted.

"Wait for a gap?" Zabini asked.

"No, create one. Cause a school or forest disturbance, exhaust Dumbledore, then act when he sleeps. Potions can't keep him awake forever," Harry reasoned.

His hunch was right. That Sunday, heading to guard the stone, the four met McGonagall scolding Ron and Hermione, who'd revealed the stone's danger. "Stop this nonsense and get to the grounds! Focus on grades and house points! If you go near the fourth floor, I'll deduct fifty points—even from Gryffindor, Weasley!" McGonagall snapped.

"It's okay," Hermione and Ron whispered, having learned critical news. "Harry, Dumbledore's gone to the Ministry for an emergency!" Ron said.

Harry resolved to protect the stone themselves—six against thieves, stopping the Dark Lord's return.

That night, as the castle slept, the four sneaked from Slytherin's common room. Azrael negotiated with the Bloody Baron to keep Peeves away. An enlarged Invisibility Cloak hid them, ready to meet Ron and Hermione.

But three figures blocked the common room exit. "Stop, Potter," Draco said, pale as a ghost, with sleepy-eyed Goyle and nervous Crabbe. Unlike usual, Draco stood alone in front, wand drawn.

"Draco," Harry said, sensing his strain. Normally, Draco would mock Harry's sneaking, but he seemed cornered.

"I can't let you leave. I heard the centaur's prophecy… the Dark Lord's returning!" Draco's voice lacked its usual arrogance.

Harry couldn't linger; Ron and Hermione awaited. (Odd… is Draco really trying to stop me?) If he were Draco, he'd use Sonorus to expose him.

"It'd be bad," Harry said coldly, brushing past.

Azrael watched, thinking, (Ignoring Malfoy like that…)

Draco fixated only on Harry, and only Harry could defy him so boldly. Both stood out in Slytherin, opposites yet alike in their stubbornness.

"It's good for Slytherins! You-Know-Who will purge Muggle-borns, making this school ours! My father said so! You hate Muggles too!" Draco pleaded.

Harry passed him, saying, "He tried to kill me with a Bludger and sent a troll to murder. I don't respect someone who doesn't value life."

Saying "Voldemort" froze the room—Harry's intent. "I love Hogwarts, Slytherin. I made friends my age here, enjoyed rivalries with other houses. He'd ruin that—Quidditch, magic, everything."

"'Everyone' doesn't matter!" Draco cried. "Live for yourself! My father can ensure You-Know-Who spares you…"

"Sorry, I lied. It's not for everyone. I refuse to bow to him. Even Dumbledore's better," Harry said.

That struck Draco's nerve. "You fool! Petr—" he began, raising his wand.

"Incarcero!" Farcas's spell, cast without hesitation, bound Draco. Farcas and Azrael stayed behind. "Harry, Zabini, go! We'll hold them!" Farcas shouted.

"Thanks, Bloom, Farcas!" Harry called.

"Don't lose!" Azrael yelled.

Draco aimed his wand at Harry's back but couldn't cast, frozen by indecision.