HP: Black's Child

Aster resumed his classes. He didn't take off the locket.

But he distanced himself from Harry, from Ron... and from Hermione.

He didn't want to worry them or put them in the crossfire of the rumors. The locket hung plainly around his neck, visible for anyone to see. He didn't bother to hide it.

Through Nyx, he heard that the fear had actually eased things for Harry in Gryffindor. Everyone thought he was the Heir of Slytherin now.

It gave him influence. Power born of fear.

Aster couldn't speak with Susan either—he didn't want to endanger her.

Nyx flew to him after delivering messages to Hermione. Her wings silent, her eyes sharp.

She perched, tilted her head, and mimicked Hermione's voice with unsettling precision: "Aster, I believe you are not the Heir. Can you find out if Malfoy knows anything about the Chamber of Secrets—or the Heir?"

Aster gave a soft breath before answering. "Tell her Malfoy doesn't trust me. And if he did know anything, he would've already provided proof against my 'eligibility.'"

Nyx dipped her head. Then flew.

Pansy was sitting beside him in the Slytherin common room.

"Aster... are you sure you don't want to meet them?" she asked, though her thoughts betrayed her.

'I get more time alone with him...' Her cheeks flushed, though she kept her gaze steady.

Even if Aster never claimed to be the Heir of Slytherin, the truth hardly mattered. So long as others believed it, and if one day they ended up together, her influence would only grow.

Aster looked at her, unreadable. "No. The other Houses fear the Heir because they think it's me… or Harry. I can take the blame. That way, Harry can stay safe."

Pansy hesitated. Then said, "But he doesn't even trust you. Even after you—" She stopped herself. Died.

Aster smiled. Not a real one. But to Pansy, it was enough.

Then Daphne sat beside him, graceful and poised.

"So... problems in paradise?" Her voice held the calm edge of practiced elegance, and her smile was charming, almost too charming.

But Aster could feel it.

Her desire wasn't for him, not really. It was for what he represented. Power. Wealth.And most of all, influence.

——————————————————————————————

In the Gryffindor common room.

Nyx swept in through the window, her wings silent in the warm candlelight, and landed gracefully atop the table.

"AH—Scabbers!" Ron yelped, nearly tipping over his chair.

Nyx turned her head sharply, her yellow eyes locking on the trembling rat.

Ron flailed, shielding Scabbers behind his robes."No! Don't eat him!"

Nyx tilted her head, and in a voice too cold and too familiar, she replied, mimicking Aster: "I don't like coward's meat."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione froze.

Nyx turned to Hermione then, her feathers puffing slightly. "Malfoy doesn't trust me," she said in that same uncanny voice. "He only trusts Crabbe and Goyle."

She glanced once more at the rat, now burrowed deep into Ron's sleeve.

"If he knew anything, he would've given proof against my eligibility."

There was a heavy pause.

Then Harry spoke, voice uncertain, almost timid: "Is there… any way to get into Slytherin and learn what Malfoy knows—without Aster?"

His meaning was clear. He didn't trust him.

Ron nodded silently in agreement.

Hermione stood abruptly, fists clenched. "He's not the Heir!" she snapped, her voice shaking with frustration.

She stormed up the stairs to the girls' dormitory, robes fluttering behind her.

Nyx hesitated, then took flight, gliding after her like a silent shadow.

Harry stared into the fire for a long moment."Maybe... but she doesn't know what I saw. Or what I heard that night…"

——————————————————————————————

Slytherin common room.

Malfoy entered with his usual swagger, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him like mismatched bookends.

He spotted Aster lounging in a corner, deep in quiet conversation with Daphne and Pansy. Pansy leaned a little too close. Daphne sat with her usual composed poise, but her eyes were calculating.

Malfoy gave a mocking clap. "Well, well. Collecting another consort, are we? I expected no less from the supposed Slytherin Heir."

He smirked. "Now that you've parted ways with the Gryffindors, I suppose your taste has improved?"

Aster didn't even glance at him.

"Malfoy," he said flatly, "you should consider changing your path while you still can. I'd rather be your friend than your enemy. But I won't be your lackey."

He gestured lazily toward Crabbe and Goyle without turning. "When your father loses power, they'll be the first to abandon you."

Crabbe blinked slowly. Goyle shifted uncomfortably.

Malfoy's sneer faltered, just for a second. "Lose power? My father holds powers you will never have. Do you honestly think the likes of you could threaten it?"

He turned to his goons, as if for validation. "Do you really think he could endanger a Malfoy?"

Finally, Aster looked up. His gaze was cool. Calm.

"I do," he said quietly. "But it won't be me who does it.

Malfoy's hand inched toward his wand, his sneer curling tighter.

But Aster's voice cut through the air, low and cold:

"Malfoy… if you draw that wand, it won't be Crabbe lying on the floor this time."

The words hung there, sharp as a blade.

Malfoy froze.

Crabbe instinctively took a step back. Goyle followed, uncertain but mirroring him like a shadow.

The threat wasn't shouted.

It didn't need to be.

The last time they crossed him, Crabbe ended up flat on the stone floor of the corridor. No spell. No wand. Just Aster's bare hands, and no proof of magic for Lucius Malfoy to protest. Only bruises and silence.

Malfoy remembered. Even if he wouldn't admit it.

His hand dropped back to his side.

He said nothing, his lips thin with swallowed fury, and turned sharply on his heel.

Crabbe and Goyle followed, but slower now, glancing over their shoulders.

Daphne gave Aster a sidelong look, amused.Pansy... just looked.

Pansy shifted slightly closer to Aster, stealing a glance at Daphne, who appeared disinterested, on the surface.

"Aster," Pansy began, voice soft.

He turned to her, eyebrows slightly raised, prepared to ask what she needed.

But instead, she leaned in, her breath warm against his ear.

"Did you know the second-floor girls' bathroom is unused?" she whispered, almost nervously. "You could… take a bath there. No one goes in."

Aster blinked, confused, then sniffed at his own sleeve."Do I smell?" he asked, genuinely puzzled. He had been bathing, but not as often, too little time, too many burdens.

Pansy quickly shook her head, flustered."No! I didn't mean—"

Before she could finish, Daphne leaned in smoothly, the air between them shifting.

She inhaled near his collar, slow and deliberate."Mmm," she said, lips curling. "Smells good to me."

Then she turned to Pansy with a smirk, sharp and elegant."But of course, a bath does more than just clean, doesn't it?"

Pansy's jaw clenched just slightly.