The rest of summer passed by relatively uneventfully. Aside from a chaotic battle with a horde of sentient books that had escaped the underage and underpaid wizard working at Flourish and Blotts that had lasted until Sally discovered that the books could be calmed down with a gentle stroke against their spines, the only other thing of note that happened throughout the summer was Elizabeth apologizing profusely for accidentally letting it slip where Flynn lived to Lily during their communique as pen pals.

  Flynn didn’t care enough to chastise her for it, especially since he agreed with Elizabeth when she said that Lily was a lot sneakier than her innocent appearance made her seem. He was certain that by the end of the summer, he had managed to train enough endurance into her that she didn’t need as many breaks during their training sessions as she claimed she did, but still somehow managed to make her hours with him last for the entire day.

  He would never admit it out loud, but he missed having Dudley as a student. The fat boy never ended up coming back to the gym all summer, and though Tom had given Flynn a pair of tickets to one of his matches, implying heavily that he should go and invite Dudley to watch with him.

  Though Tom had suggested that it might potentially help to mend their relationship, it wasn’t like there was a relationship to mend in the first place. And even if there had been, it wasn’t like it had been Flynn’s fault it had broken so why was the onus on him to go and ask for a forgiveness he didn’t need?

  Flynn had scowled in annoyance when he found himself standing on the front porch of 4 Privet Drive, listening to the grating voices of Vernon and another person he didn’t recognize, as he considered knocking on the door for a full ten seconds before he crumpled up one of the tickets and threw it at the door.

  Whether the ticket was blown away in the wind before anyone in the house opened the door, or the ticket was seen but went ignored, Flynn watched Tom’s that night, sitting next to an empty seat. He watched with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face, glaring at Tom and hurling silent curses in the older man’s direction for being such a meddlesome annoyance in his life.

  Unfortunately for Flynn, Tom was good enough that he won his match handily, without a single bruise for catharsis.

  Also unfortunately for Flynn, Tom’s meddling wasn’t even close to the most annoying thing that happened to him that summer either, trumped easily on the day when Jones sat him down and threw an envelope at his face.

  When Flynn saw that the envelope was filled with money, he threw it back in a fit of anger. He wasn’t a goddamn charity case, and there was no way in hell that he’d ever let himself be treated like one. Jones didn’t seem to get the message and he threw it back at Flynn’s face. Flynn was thirteen now (probably), which meant that he was legally employable as a part time worker and Jones would rather be dead in the grave than have the reputation of exploiting children for free labour.

  Once Flynn offered to put Jones in said grave, a full blown argument started between the two, resulting in a shouting match that lasted for several hours before they eventually settled it in the ring.

  It was only when Jones won, beating Flynn within an inch of his life, that Flynn begrudgingly accepted the money. He still didn’t think that being a cleaner and a private boxing coach for the summer should have earned him as much money as Jones was giving him, but as the loser of their match, he knew that had no right to complain.

  As always, Tom and Elizabeth didn’t seem to understand, with the latter chastising her adoptive father for injuring her favourite little boy so badly, but eventually let it go when it became clear that neither Jones nor Flynn cared.

  “What happened to your face?”

  Flynn shot a glare at Sally, who held up her hands defensively in reaction to it, as if she expected him to snap violently at her even if the relaxed expression on her face seemed to imply otherwise. When his glare did nothing to dispel the curiosity in her eyes, he scowled at her instead.

  “The fuck does it look like?” he asked. “I got punched.”

  “It looks more like you fell down a mountain,” Sally said, with a shrug. “What punched you? A bear?”

  Flynn scowled at her again, despite the flash of pain that pulsed on his bruised skin, the fight with Jones still too fresh for him to have healed it off completely.

  “No,” he said.

  “Was it Lily?” Sally asked.

  “What? You think that Lily could’ve done this?” Flynn asked. “She can barely lift her arms without complaining.”

  “Really? She told me she was getting pretty good. I thought maybe she could’ve gotten strong enough to beat you.”

  Flynn scowled at her, just barely holding himself back from rising to the obvious bait. Sally smiled at him innocently, as her pet frog let out a croak from atop her head.

  Though Flynn had let her sit in the same train compartment as him with the expectation that she would at least stay quiet until Lily boarded the train and found them, the sudden question and betrayal of his expectations made him wonder when exactly Sally had gotten this comfortable with him. He could still remember how she used to freeze up at the mere sight of him, and he couldn’t help but miss those days dearly.

  With a huff, he crossed his arms and looked to the side, refusing to engage the girl any further. He ignored the quiet laugh that she let out, and thankfully, Sally seemed content to let the silence sit.

  Unfortunately, the door slid open only a few minutes later to reveal Luna, who walked into the train compartment backwards for some reason, and Lily a few minutes after that. The topic of conversation was focused on Flynn’s bruises for a decent length of time, with Lily admitting regretfully that she had gotten a little too excited during their sparring sessions and had accidentally brutalised Flynn without meaning to. Luna fully accepted the idea that the tiny girl could even reach Flynn’s face to begin with, stating that she knew that the bruises had been placed with love from the moment she had seen them.

  Somehow, Flynn managed to hold himself back from shouting at each of them, as he stared out the window and let the conversation melt around him instead.

  Eventually, the topic of conversation shifted away from his bruises as the girls discussed in great detail what they had done during the summer break, which was completely stupid since Flynn knew for a fact that they kept in regular contact throughout the summer already, with how many updates he got from Lily about Sally and Luna’s vacations to the Maldives and Russia respectively, during the many breaks that she took during their boxing lessons, but the three girls reacted to each others’ stories like it was the first time they were hearing of them.

  The only time they considered taking a break from the conversation was when the trolley came around, and Flynn shocked them into silence by offering to buy something for Lily.

  He had meant it as payback for the snacks she’d bought him during their first year, now that he actually had the money to pay her back with, but it had the unintended effect of starting a whispered conversation between Sally and Luna as they wondered if this was a sign that they had officially gotten together-together during the summer break if he was buying dinner for her. Aside from the fact that a chocolate frog did NOT count as dinner in any scenario it still made Flynn grit his teeth and buy a chocolate frog for them as well, just to dispel the notion that he was giving Lily preferential treatment.

  Despite the miserable weather outside, painting the world grey and battering the windows with roaring rain, the conversation inside the train compartment was warm and filled with laughter, as if defying the world itself.

  But when the train started to slow down, hours before Flynn expected them to arrive at the school, he couldn’t help but frown. He didn’t know why he stood from his seat, or why the hairs on his arms stood against his skin, but a sudden sense of wrongness fell over him as he looked out the window, as if expecting to see anything in the darkness of the stormy world outside.

  Flynn didn’t know if they were just reacting to him standing up, or if they felt it themselves, but Lily, Sally and Luna started to speak quietly, their voices unwittingly falling to whispers that grew quieter as the train slowed, eventually stopping completely as the train came to a complete stop.

  “You think something’s wrong with the train?” Sally asked, after a few seconds of silence.

  “Maybe?” Lily said. “I’m sure it’s just a small delay.”

  “Oh, I knew I was forgetting something,” Luna said, shaking her head solemnly. “There was an infestation of Nargles in the sky today, so I knew something was wrong. I tried fixing it, but I shouldn’t have expected to ward off an infestation of that scale just by walking backwards all day. I could’ve spoken backwards as well.”

  “I’m sure it’s not your fault, Luna,” Lily said.

  “It was my responsibility,” Luna said solemnly, shaking her head again. “I’m sorry. I’ve failed you all.”

  Flynn was certain that Lily might’ve said something in response, but before she could, all the lamps in the train seemed to snuff out without warning, plunging the entire world into total darkness.

  There was a quiet yelp, and Flynn felt a few somethings immediately latch into him. Just barely holding himself back from instinctively and violently throwing them off.

  Flynn knew fear. He knew it well and he knew it intimately. How could he not, with it nipping at his heels like a hyena or a vulture circling around a walking corpse at every waking moment of his life?

  He didn’t feel any shame in feeling fear, knowing just how useful it could be as both a weapon or a protective cloak against the dangers of the world, but he would never admit that he was anything other than unshakeable. Even if he didn’t think of it as a weakness, he knew that most other people did, and so he hid his fear underneath a mask of prickles and thorns, not wanting to invite any trouble when he could otherwise avoid it.

  He could admit to himself that he’d grown comfortable over the past few years. Even before he’d been accepted into Hogwarts and was given the opportunity to grasp at the power to shape the world, his life since he’d met Jones hadn’t admittedly been bad at all.

  But while fear dogged his mind with the tenacity of an eternally starving beast, never truly fading out of existence no matter how well he kept it fed, it had been a while since he had been reminded that at any single moment, it could be torn away from him in an instant.

  Flynn had no idea why he felt as much fear as he did emanating from behind the door that lead to the hallway that ran through the Hogwarts Express, but a primal part of his mind, an unexplainable feeling screamed at him that beyond it was something that could rip away all of the good things in life and would do it with malicious glee.

  Flynn stood still, feeling his body tense, tightening every single muscle in his body in hopes of keeping himself so impossibly still that he would become an inanimate object, simply blending in with the background as a piece of scene in the train compartment.

  His body betrayed him, shivering as a wave of ice dripped through his veins. He heard his teeth chattering, but he clenched his jaw hard enough that he was afraid that his teeth would shatter under the pressure. He clenched his jaw even harder at the thought, as if by pushing himself towards that new fear, hoping the fear of whatever was outside the door would fade as he gave his mind a new thing to worry about, but the sense of death that emanated from the crack underneath the sliding door was too strong, too encompassing for it to pass so easily.

  Flynn was going to die. He knew this with a certainty that refused to be quieted. He was going to die and there was nothing that he could do about it.

  Was he already dead? It was possible. He felt so cold, so stiff, and it was so so dark. The question rose up in his mind once more. Was he dead? It was seeming more and more likely. He was in a coffin, buried six feet beneath the ground. There was a blank tombstone planted above him, with nobody having cared enough to mark his final resting spot with anything but a loose piece of cobblestone.

  Or maybe he was wrong. Maybe his name would be written there at the very least. He could imagine Jones, the old bastard, throwing money towards the useless engraving with how eager he seemed to waste it. Seriously. As if treating him like a fucking charity case hadn’t already been enough, he could imagine the old man spending his cash on Flynn’s decaying corpse, just as a final fuck you, just because he was a shitty fucking old man. A lonely “Fredericton Flintstone” to mark the grave, with nothing else written above it

  Although now that he thought about it, speaking of shitty old people, there was no way that his tombstone would just have his name written on it if Elizabeth had any say. She would write something along the lines of him being her favourite little boy, or some stupid shit like that. It annoyed him how he wouldn’t be able to tell her off for it this time, being dead and all. It annoyed him that he wouldn’t be able to tell her to shut up and stop crying at his funeral either. She fussed over him in life, and she would fuss over him in death.

  He didn’t think Tom would add to the engraving at all, and he’d come back as a spirit just to beat his ass if he tried. Despite how good he was in the ring, he doubted Tom was being paid all that much if he was still working as a coach for the stupid children that went to Jones’s Gym, and Flynn would rather die a second time than take that money away from him. He could come to his funeral, and that was it.

  Not that he would blame him if he didn’t come. It would be a pretty pathetic little funeral, made even more pathetic by how empty it would be. Jones, Elizabeth, and Tom would be the only guests. Blaise, he supposed, might be there too, visiting on a whim if he had the time open in his schedule. Maybe Hermione, he supposed, with how annoying she was about trying to get closer to him despite how clearly he laid out the fact that he didn’t like her in the slightest.

  But weren’t there even more annoying people in his life?

  Wouldn’t Lily, Sally, and Luna come to his funeral too? Had he forgotten about them?

  No, he hadn’t. He couldn’t forget about the annoying trio of girls that forcefully invaded his life even if he tried, but for some reason he couldn’t imagine them visiting him at his grave. Probably because they had been with him at the very moment that he’d died. It only made sense that they would have died too.

  At the realisation, a wave of emotion washed through Flynn at the thought, an indecipherable mass of feeling that was too complex, too heavy and dense for Flynn to try and wade through, let alone breach the surface of. It threatened to crush him, splintering his bones and tearing through his muscles under its immense weight. It smothered him, making it difficult to breathe as it pressed against his lungs. It entered his body through his mouth, nose and ears, as the taste and smell of blood assaulted his senses, while the pounding of his heart coursed through his ears.

  As Flynn absorbed the ball of emotion within him, he still couldn’t hope to interpret it fully, but one emotion stuck out, familiar enough to him that he had no trouble picking it out in the sea of complex and muddled emotions that rocked him.

  The second most common emotion he felt, other than fear.

  Anger.

  He wasn’t angry at the world, knowing that it was a pointless anger to have at something that didn’t care, nor was he angry at whatever it was that killed him, knowing that it must have felt the same way. He wasn’t even angry at himself for dying, since if he was too weak to save himself than he deserved to die, but he was angry at himself for being pathetic enough that he couldn’t even save his friends. They didn’t deserve to die, and he should have been able to save them, but he couldn’t.

  And that pissed him right the fuck off.

  Instantly, a wave of heat washed over him as his skin practically simmered with rage, fighting back against the cold of the moment. He was back in the train compartment, no longer in his grave, but he didn’t care enough to celebrate his return to life. Hunching down, he spread his arms and gathered the three bodies pressed around him, drawing them closer to him. He didn’t know what he could do to the embodiment of death that waited beyond the door, but he would do what he could, using his body as a shield if he had to.

  A silent snarl curled his lips back as he glared at the door, twisting into an avatar of the rage that he felt in the hopes that it might be enough to ward off the evils that hid behind it.

  But slowly, surely, with an anticlimatic fade, a muffled and distant voice echoed out from beyond the door from somewhere far down the hall, confident and loud, right before a final shout that seemed to dispel the feelings of death altogether.

  Though Flynn felt his guard dropping unconsciously, he kept his arms tense, not willing to place his trust in the vague feeling of reprieve just yet. Even as warmth seemed to return to the world around him, and the flickers of light seeped through the cracks of the compartment door, accompanied by the muffled mumblings of voices that were indecipherable but distinctly human.

  When there was a knock from the other side of the door, Flynn tensed and drew his arms closer to his body.

  The door slid open slightly, to reveal a ragged-looking adult with an even more ragged expression on his face, his features lit ominously by the flickering flame that he held in his palm. The man tried to smile, but it looked strange on a face that was otherwise outlined by a set of frown lines that had been permanently etched into his face, but the attempt at least seemed genuine.

  “Good evening, my name is Professor Remus Lupin. I will be your Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor for the coming year,” he said, in a softer voice than Flynn might’ve expected from his appearance. “I wish we could have met under better circumstances, but alas, I’ve never been the lucky sort.”

  His smile twitched as he said this, as if in response to an inside joke that only he understood, but Flynn narrowed his eyes at the way that the man’s body shifted, with his other arm hidden behind the door. The man paused, raising an eyebrow as he noticed the direction of Flynn’s gaze and started to move slowly, gently sliding the door open fully to show that he was only pulling out a small bar of chocolate from his pocket.

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  “It’s never easy, being in a dementor’s presence,” he said, holding out the bar to Flynn. “Chocolate helps.”

  Flynn glared at the chocolate, and the man quickly seemed to recognise that he wouldn’t take it from his hands, so he placed it on one of the seats instead.

  “I promised it’s not poisoned,” the man said. “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to, but it would at least make me feel better knowing you have it.”

  The man smiled at him again, but if he was expecting Flynn to respond, Flynn was eager to disappoint him, responding only with a single glare.

  Though the man didn’t sigh, his shoulders did relax slightly as he gave Flynn another limp smile.

  “Please be assured that even the most experienced of adults are affected by dementors. Often moreso, in fact,” the man said. “There is no shame in accepting help when it's needed, even if I understand you might not want to admit any sort of weakness in front of your girlfriends.”

  If the man was trying to confuse Flynn into dropping his guard, the method was surprisingly effective. Flynn’s glare unintentionally softened as he blinked in confusion at the mention of girlfriends he didn’t have, before a small voice piped up from somewhere uncomfortably close to him.

  “Oh no, it’s just me, Professor Lupin,” Lily said. “I love Sally and Luna, but not enough to share.”

  It took Flynn a few seconds to realise that her voice was coming from directly underneath his chin, but even as he glanced down to see her staring up at him, her face squished hard against both Sally and Luna who had also somehow snuck themselves into his arms, it took him another few seconds to react.

  An unfamiliar yelp escaped from his throat as he scrambled backwards to retreat from the foul creatures that had somehow invaded his personal space without him noticing. Though he already had his back against the back wall of the train compartment, he pushed himself even harder against it, as if he was trying to either break through the wall or melt into it.

  Lupin blinked a few times in surprise, before he chuckled under his breath. For the first time since he’d opened the door, a twinkle of mischievous amusement seemed to spark in his eyes, even if his smile still seemed unpracticed.

  “Of course, my apologies,” he said, as he shook his head in good nature. “Well, I should be off. Have to make sure the rest of the students are safe, and get this train moving again. May I trust that your boyfriend’s well-being will be secure in your hands?”

  “Oh, he’s not my boyfriend yet, but I’ll make sure he eats some chocolate at the very least, Professor Lupin,” Lily said.

  Lupin raised an eyebrow, but seemed to think better than to ask.

  “Very well, then,” he said. Without asking, he lifted his hand and the flame hovering in it, and with a mumbled word, a piece of it split off and relighting the empty lantern to bring light back into the train compartment. “Unless you have any pressing issues, I should be off.”

  “Thank you, Professor Lupin,” Lily said, shaking her head. “I think we’ll be fine.”

  Lupin nodded before walking away with a smile. He didn’t close the door as he left, letting muffled conversations flow freely into the train compartment. Though he might’ve been annoyed by the slight in any other instance, Flynn couldn’t stop himself from glancing at the doorway, calculating in his head whether he would be able to sneak out of it unnoticed.

  “You really didn’t make much progress all summer, huh?” Sally asked, giving a disappointed look at Flynn for some reason.

  “Not really,” Lily said, though she didn’t seem too disappointed by the admission. “But summer was mostly about preparing myself for the school year. It’s not like I could do anything serious with Hugh watching, anyway.”

  “Hugh?” Sally asked.

  “The person that my mom happened to marry,” Lily said with a shrug.

  “Your dad?” Sally asked.

  “I guess I used to call him that,” Lily said, with a huff. “At least before he got all annoying right before he dropped me off at the station today. I’m allowed to like whoever I want.”

  “Ah,” Sally said, understanding instantly as she glanced at Flynn.

  Flynn glared at her for the implication behind her eyes.

  “The fuck are you looking at?” he growled.

  “Hush, Flynn,” Lily said, not even looking back as she reached forward to grab the chocolate that Lupin had left behind. Peeling off the wrapper, she snapped off a piece and practically shoved it into Flynn’s face. “Eat your chocolate. Professor Lupin was right, it’ll make you feel better. Hugh said the same thing.”

  Flynn glared at her, and considered telling her that he didn’t need to feel better, that he was perfectly fine already.

  “If you don’t take it, I’ll start feeding you myself,” Lily said.

  Flynn narrowed his eyes and grabbed the chocolate from her hand, deciding that arguing probably wasn’t worth the trouble.

  “Good boy,” Lily said, before breaking off a piece and turning to Luna. “Here Luna, you take one too.”

  Luna simply nodded from her place, curled up on the floor, taking the offered chocolate and nibbling on it slowly as Lily knelt down beside her and held her in a side hug around the shoulders that the younger girl leaned into.

  “Thanks,” Luna said, her voice sounding somehow bubbly despite the shiver that travelled through it. “You’re a good mom, Lily.”

  “Hmm,” Lily responded, not having anything else to say.

  Infuriatingly enough, the chocolate did help, with a single bite of it bringing a rush of warmth that spread from his chest into his extremities. The rest of the train ride passed relatively quickly, and though a few prefects made their rounds to make sure that everyone had a good supply of chocolate on hand, the atmosphere in the train was somber enough that not many words were exchanged above a whisper.

  The dour mood followed the passengers of the train even as the Hogwarts Express touched down at Hogsmeade station and deposited them on the platform.

  Flynn, Lily, Sally, and Luna all climbed into the same horse-drawn carriage, and stuck together as they walked into Hogwarts, but were eventually separated when the doors to the Great Hall opened and they went to their respective tables, separated by their houses.

  “Fredericton,” Blaise said, nodding his head towards him as he sat down across from him.

  “Blaise,” Flynn responded, with a grunt.

  For some reason, Blaise raised his eyebrow at the response.

  “Huh, you actually acknowledged me,” he said. “Did something good happen to you over the summer?”

  Flynn blinked a few times before shooting a scowl at him.

  “Ah,” Blaise said. “There’s the unfriendly face I know. For a second I thought you might actually ask me what I did over my break. Italy, if you’re curious.”

  “Eat shit,” Flynn said in response.

  “Not my first choice in a meal, but I might have to resort to it if they take any longer to start the Feast,” Blaise grumbled, looking more bothered by the lack of food on his plate than the annoyance in Flynn’s expression. “I haven’t eaten anything all day. Woke up too late for breakfast, and the food on the train doesn’t agree with me.”

  Flynn scowled at him, and dug around in his pocket before tossing the last pieces of chocolate that Lily had made him take.

  “If I give you this, will you stop bitching and moaning?” Flynn asked.

  Rather than answer back like a normal human being, Blaise simply stared at the chocolate in front of him, before looking up at Flynn with his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  Before Flynn could tell him just what he thought of Blaise’s apparent newfound passion for comedy, a loud clinking of glasses echoed out from the head table, as Dumbledore stood up to request that the rest of the students quiet down for the Sorting Ceremony. Flynn decided he would be content with simply shooting a glare at Blaise before turning his attention to the Staff Table, somehow only just noticing that Hagrid was sitting up there with a smile that threatened to split his face in two with how wide it was.

  Flynn let out a huff of amusement at the sight, before deciding that he was in no way amused at the sight of the sixty-something year old man acting like he was a child in a candy store. Flynn scowled at his own lips for threatening to rise despite that.

  Regardless of what may or may not have happened in the war of expressions that waged on Flynn’s face, it eventually settled as the Sorting ceremony started and ended with a song from the Sorting Hat, but before the Feast could start, Dumbledore had a few announcements to give.

  The first one was simple enough. Don’t mess with the dementors who’d been sent to guard the castle for some godforsaken reason. Dumbledore didn’t seem happy at all by the announcement, which was something that all the staff seemed to agree with, but he quickly moved onto the announcement of the new Staff members of Hogwarts.

  While Flynn had already known about Hagrid’s new post, and Lupin had already introduced himself on the train, what surprised him most about the announcement was the look of utter hatred on Snape’s face as he glared towards the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

  Flynn narrowed his eyes, wondering why his Head of House’s expression seemed so strange to him, but Snape almost seemed to flinch under his gaze and he forced himself to a more neutral state, though Flynn could still see the way that the man’s fists clenched into white knuckled balls of tension atop the table.

  Flynn considered the sight for the moment, but decided that it wasn’t his problem if Snape had some unspoken hatred for the new Defense Professor or not, and once Dumbledore clinked his glass again and a horde of floating plates popped into existence around the hall, Flynn suddenly became too busy with fighting off the plates from smashing excitedly into his face in their eagerness to feed him to pay attention to anything else.

  Thankfully, other than a very insistent plate of devilled eggs that dumped its entire contents mostly on his plate and partially on his lap, he managed to grab most of the plates out of the air and redirect them to a very thankful Blaise, and the jealous Gregory and Vincent.

  The rest of dinner passed relatively uneventfully and once Dumbledore called the feast to an end, the fifth year prefects rounded up the first years and led them out of the Great Hall first before the rest of the Slytherins made their way to the dorms in a much less organized crowd.

  The Head Boy and Girl, who Flynn vaguely remembered as Reginald and Alice respectively, waited by the door to the dungeons to give out the password as the Slytherins approached. It wasn’t a job that required more than two people, or even more than one for that matter, but Flynn was surprised to see that the sixth year prefects were standing at the gates as well.

  Dipshit and his bitch stood together, welcoming the Slytherins back to the school as if he were personally hosting them during their stay, but when he spotted Flynn, he did so with an unexpected smile.

  “Good to see you back, Fredericton,” he said.

  Before Flynn could even process what was going on, Reginald reacted first, turning quickly to narrow his eyes suspiciously at Dipshit before pursing his lips in almost a grimace.

  “Move along, you lot,” he said, keeping his eyes pointedly away from both Dipshit and Flynn, waving the crowd further into the common room. “You can chat once you’ve gone inside. No sense clogging up the doorway like a group of animals.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, Yaxley,” Dipshit said, though he didn’t bother turning in the direction of the older boy to address him. “I suppose we’ll catch up later, shan’t we, Fredericton?”

  Flynn narrowed his eyes at Dipshit, but saw from the corner of his eyes the way that the rest of the crowd was looking curiously at the exchange. Dipshit either didn’t seem to notice or more likely didn’t care about the attention he was drawing, but Flynn wasn’t of the same mind. Not wanting to add to the whispers and stares, Flynn simply walked into the dorm, keeping his eyes pointed forward until he made it to his room.

  He was the first to arrive, with the rest of the Slytherin boys in his year either lagging behind the crowd or choosing to relax and socialize in the common room beforehand, so Flynn laid first claim to the showers.

  When he finished, he wasn’t surprised to see that the dorm room was occupied, but he was surprised by who was occupying it, or rather who wasn’t.

  Draco stood proudly, if a little stiff, in the center of the room, but it almost took Flynn a full second to recognize him without either of his goons occupying his shadow.

  Flynn gave a questioning glance towards Blaise, who was sitting at the foot of his bed, already changed into his sleepwear. Blaise gave Flynn a shrug, but he wasn’t sure if he meant it to mean that he didn’t know what was going on or if he didn’t care enough to tell him with Draco in the room.

  “Fredericton,” Draco said, drawing his attention back to him. “May I have a word with you?”

  Flynn narrowed his eyes as he scanned Draco with an analyzing glare. The boy had his hands clasped in front of him, no hint of a weapon or wand concealed in them, and though the boy was looking straight at him and not down his nose, for quite possibly the first time since they’d met, Draco still wore an expression that barely concealed how little he enjoyed his current situation.

  Flynn glanced at Blaise again, unable to draw a conclusion by himself, but Blaise still refused to give him any hints, shrugging again.

  Giving up on him, Flynn turned back to Draco.

  “The fuck do you want?” he growled.

  Though he tried to hide it, Flynn still noticed the concealed wince at the question and the way that Draco’s eyes flitted towards the door to the common rooms. If Flynn had to guess, his goons were waiting just outside it, but rather than calling for them, Draco gave him a stiff smile instead.

  “I simply wanted to apologize for my uncouth behaviour towards you, during our first two years of schooling,” he said, giving Flynn a short nod that might have been considered as a bow if he was feeling generous enough in stretching the definition. “If it is at all possible, I wish to make amends in any way I can.”

  Flynn stared at Draco, waiting for the boy to continue and explain why, but when it became increasingly clear that an explanation wouldn’t be coming, Flynn felt a throb of frustration pulsing through a vein on his forehead.

  “You,” Flynn said, raising a finger to point at the only other occupant in the room. “Explain.”

  Blaise raised his eyebrow, as if he were surprised to be called on, but was quick to let out an overly dramatic sigh as he shook his head.

  “Drag me into your mess, why don’t you,” Blaise grumbled. “Malfoy is being genuine, Fredericton. He truly wishes to curry favour with you, or at the very least, reset your relationship towards being neutral. Though with how antagonistic he’s been towards you throughout our schooling career thus far, I suppose he has a lot to make amends for to reach that point.”

  Draco, who had been smiling along with Blaise’s explanation at the beginning, quickly turned his lips downwards into a scowl at the last statement.

  “Watch your words, Zabini,” he warned.

  “Just stating the obvious, Malfoy,” Blaise said, raising his hands in a lazy surrender. “As much of a dullard that Fredericton may look like, he is at the top of our year for a reason. He would’ve understood that much without my involvement.”

  Draco continued to scowl at Blaise, but when Blaise raised an eyebrow at Draco, as if challenging him to deny him. When Draco stayed silent, he continued.

  “As for why he’s suddenly changed his tune, I can only assume that it’s not related to any change of heart he may or may not have had on a personal level,” Blaise said, ignoring the intensifying glare that Draco shot at him. “I’d say it’s more related to the rising intrigue surrounding your existence within the wizarding world.”

  Immediately, Flynn couldn’t help but tense up at the idea of any sort of intrigue that might be surrounding him, especially if it drew any sort of attention to himself.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Flynn growled. “I thought you rich fucks didn’t give a shit about your ‘lessers’.”

  “We typically don’t,” Blaise agreed, sounding completely unperturbed by the pure spite and sarcasm loaded into Flynn’s voice. “But there is a resounding theory within the pureblooded society that you may not be of impure blood yourself, given the mystery that surrounds your upbringing.”

  “I’m a fucking orphan,” Flynn said. “I got dropped off at the orphanage by a fucking crackwhore of a mother.”

  “Aside from the fact that I don’t know what a crackwhore is, the fact of the matter is that because you have no living or known parents, your true heritage remains a mystery. Nobody knows what line you hail from, whether it be one of pure or Muggle blood, and while certain individuals were quick to assume that you were of the latter, there really is no way to know without a series of diagnostic spells.”

  Draco flushed at the insinuation, but though Blaise glanced at him and paused to give him the chance to interrupt, the blonde boy didn’t say anything.

  “Regardless, while there are only a scant few who truly believe the popular rumour that you are the lost heir of Slytherin himself, there is no questioning that the general consensus amongst the pureblooded society is that it is possible that you hail from a pureblooded family. You certainly fit the bill of the ideal pureblooded son, with your academic success and the amount of self-importance you must have to openly challenge and humiliate the Supreme Mugwump. While nobody has explicitly claimed you thus far, you still remain interesting enough that I’m sure many Nobles have instructed their heirs to keep friendly relations with you, in case you do turn out to be something worthwhile.”

  Flynn scowled at the explanation, hating every word that came out of Blaise’s mouth. Blaise seemed to recognize this, and raised his hands again in another lazy surrender.

  “Need I remind you that I’m not responsible for this?” he asked.

  “Shut the fuck up,” Flynn growled. “The fuck is a Mugwump?”

  “The most influential political figure in the International Confederation of Wizards,” Blaise said. “And since I’m sure you don’t know what that is, uneducated as you are, I’ll just let you know that our very own Headmaster is a much more powerful figure than he seems on a superficial level.”

  Flynn glared at Blaise, silently daring the boy to laugh and reveal that he’d been lying all along. Blaise simply stared back, and though a glimmer of amusement shone in his eye, he remained silent.

  “He’s a fucking old man,” Flynn said eventually, being the one to crack first. “He runs a fucking school. For children.”

  “He’s still a very powerful old man,” Blaise said, shrugging his shoulders. “Quite possibly the most powerful old man in the world.”

  “I was just pissed. I’m just a nobody,” Flynn tried again, ignoring the slight hint of desperation that he heard in his traitorous voice.

  “As I already said, I am not personally responsible for this,” Blaise replied calmly. “As a matter of fact, I happen to agree with you.”

  A swell of gratitude rose in Flynn for a split second, before he realized exactly what Blaise was agreeing to.

  “The fuck did you say?” Flynn growled. “And what the fuck did you mean by ‘as much of a dullard that I may look like”?”

  “I was just commenting on your appearance,” Blaise said, with an amused huff. “It’s clearly not true if you can remember that far back.”

  “Eat shit, Blaise,” Flynn growled.

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to decline,” Blaise responded, with a shake of his head. “I’m a changed man, since that feast filled me up.”

  Before Flynn could respond, Draco cleared his throat, drawing attention towards himself.

  “What do you want?” Flynn growled.

  “An answer,” Draco said, looking down his nose once more as his usual haughty expression returned in full force. “Regardless of what my intentions are, it still remains that I do intend to make peace with you, Fredericton, and I can only assume that you’re reasonable enough that you would not retain a grudge for any reason other than pettiness. Regardless of your blood, your origins remain the same, and my influence could be greatly beneficial to you should you accept my friendship, Fredericton.”

  “Your influence?” Flynn asked.

  “Yes,” Draco answered simply. “Or my money, if you prefer to think of it that way. I know you use secondhand books, and you’ve been wearing those same robes since our first year. You’re practically bursting out of them. You could do better with a friend like me.”

  Flynn narrowed his eyes, not at all unaware of what Draco might constitute as a “friendship”. Flynn’s eyes darted unconsciously towards the door, where Gregory and Vincent were no doubt standing outside of, on Draco’s orders.

  Draco stared impassively at him, either unaware or unbothered by the assumptions that ran through Flynn’s mind.

  “I don’t care about your influence. Or your money,” Flynn said.

  If Draco was upset or offended by the answer, he didn’t show it, and judging from the fact that he hadn’t even offered his hand to shake, Flynn was confident that Draco had been expecting the answer.

  “How about neutrality, then?” Draco asked, without hesitation. “Not friendship, but a clean slate, if you will.”

  Flynn glared at Draco, then let out an annoyed sigh.

  “I don’t give a shit about you,” he said. “Leave me alone and I’ll do the same to you.”

  “That works for me,” Draco said, giving him a curt nod and nothing else, as he turned around and walked out of the dorm room.

  “So you are capable of playing nice,” Blaise commented, as the door swung shut behind Draco.

  “Shut the fuck up, Blaise,” Flynn snapped. “Or are you planning on offering your friendship too?”

  “I hope that you would respect my intelligence enough that you’re not seriously suggesting that,” Blaise scoffed. “I have eyes, Fredericton. I’ve seen what you’re like.”

  “You sure seem to care about what I look like. Why don’t you mind your own fucking business and focus on yourself?” Flynn asked.

  “I’m quite confident in my looks, thank you very much,” Blaise responded. “Enough that I can spare some advice or judgement to those that are more in need of it.”

  “You think you’re hot shit?”

  “This is the third time this evening that you’ve brought up the subject of shit. Surely I’m not the one with an unhealthy fixation?”

  “Die in a fire, Blaise.”

  “I shall do my best to disappoint you, Fredericton.”