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The classroom door swung open, and the two professors re-entered, their faces grim. Potter, who had been anxiously chewing his thumbnail, straightened up as if he'd been electrocuted. Kaelen simply pushed himself off the desk he was leaning against, his posture relaxed, his expression neutral.
McGonagall's eyes, burning with a strange mixture of fury and excitement, were fixed solely on Potter. "You, Potter, will wait here for a moment. Don't move."
Snape's black eyes, however, were locked onto Kaelen. They were cold, flat, and utterly devoid of the mocking theatricality he usually employed. This was not the Potions Master; this was a man assessing a threat.
"Kaelen," Snape's voice was a low, dangerous murmur. "With me."
He turned without another word, his black robes sweeping behind him like a thundercloud. Kaelen followed, ignoring the bewildered look Potter shot his way. He fell into step a few paces behind Snape, his footsteps making no sound on the stone flags. They descended into the dungeons in an oppressive silence, a silence that felt heavier and more suffocating than any lecture or tirade. They passed the Slytherin common room entrance, continuing deeper into the castle's frigid underbelly until they reached the Potions classroom.
Snape entered, leaving the door open for Kaelen. The room was even more intimidating now that it was empty. Shadows clung to the jars of grotesque specimens, and the air was thick with the lingering scent of chemicals and regret. Snape glided to the front of the room and turned, his form framed by shelves of bottled things that Kaelen was fairly certain were not on the first-year curriculum.
"You broke no rules today," Snape began, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it filled the room. "You did not fly. You did not insult a professor. You did not, technically, even hex Mr. Malfoy. And yet, here you are."
Kaelen remained silent, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. This was not a disciplinary hearing. It was an interrogation.
"Professor McGonagall believes you are a disruptive influence," Snape continued, his eyes narrowing. "She finds your… control… unsettling. The Headmaster finds your mind to be a curiosity. A locked box he is itching to open." He took a slow step forward. "And I… I find you to be a problem."
Kaelen met his gaze without flinching. "Problems are merely situations for which a solution has not yet been found. Is there a solution you would like to propose, Professor?"
A flicker of something—surprise? grudging respect?—flashed in Snape's dark eyes before it was extinguished. "Do not play games with me, boy. I am not some sentimental old fool who can be placated with riddles. I am the man who will be watching every move you make. I am the wall between you and the Headmaster's meddling curiosity, but only so long as you do not bring shame or, worse, unwanted attention to my house."
He was closer now, his presence a palpable force. Kaelen felt the faint, familiar tickle of a Legilimency probe, more direct this time, like a needle searching for a crack in a stone. He did not recoil. He did not even reinforce his walls. He simply allowed the probe to slide off the impossibly smooth, featureless surface of his outer defenses, offering no purchase, no hint of the fortress within.
"What I did on the lawn was the most logical course of action," Kaelen stated, his voice a calm monotone. "Malfoy was acting like a petulant child. His actions were an embarrassment to the name of Slytherin. He was handing a moral victory to a Gryffindor on a silver platter. I merely pointed out the tactical stupidity of his position."
Snape's lip curled into a sneer, but it lacked its usual conviction. Kaelen's logic was, from a certain Slytherin point of view, flawless. "You publicly humiliated a pure-blood from an influential family to make a point."
"I publicly demonstrated the superiority of logic over emotion," Kaelen corrected him. "A lesson I believe is central to the philosophy of this house. Or have I misunderstood?"
The two stood in silence for a long moment, a master of the mind and a boy who was a mind unto himself, locked in a battle of wills that was fought with nothing but stillness and silence.
"You are walking a very dangerous line," Snape said at last, his voice dropping even lower. "The Headmaster is not a man to be trifled with. He sees a puzzle in you, and he will not rest until he has solved it. The more you resist, the more interested he will become. And his interest is rarely a good thing." He paused, his gaze intense. "Whatever you are, whatever you are hiding behind those empty eyes, you would be wise to keep it buried so deep that not even he can find it. Do you understand me?"
"I understand that you wish for me to be discreet," Kaelen replied. "I can be discreet."
"See that you are," Snape hissed. "Now get out of my sight."
Kaelen gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod and turned, walking out of the classroom without a shred of the fear or relief a normal eleven-year-old would be feeling. He had been measured, tested, and warned. And he had held his own.
When he returned to the common room, the atmosphere was venomous. The news had already spread. Harry Potter, the boy who had brazenly broken the rules in his very first week, had not been expelled. He had been rewarded. He was the new Gryffindor Seeker, the youngest house player in a century.
Malfoy was pacing in front of the fireplace, his face blotchy with fury. "It's an outrage! An injustice! My father will hear about this! First-years are never allowed on the house team!"
A group of older students were nodding in agreement, their faces thunderous. The insult was twofold: not only had Gryffindor been rewarded for rule-breaking, but Slytherin, who had won the Quidditch cup for six years running, now faced a new, apparently prodigious, opponent.
Then, the portrait hole opened, and Kaelen stepped inside. A hush fell over the room. All eyes turned to him. Malfoy stopped his pacing and rounded on him.
"And you!" Malfoy spat, pointing a trembling finger. "Where have you been? What was your punishment? Snape better have given you a month of detentions for what you did!"
Kaelen slowly walked towards the center of the room, his gaze sweeping over the angry faces. He stopped a few feet from Malfoy, his expression calm.
"There was no punishment," Kaelen said, his voice clear and carrying in the sudden silence.
Malfoy stared, dumbfounded. "What? No punishment? But you—you undermined me! You made a fool of me!"
"No, Draco," Kaelen said, using his first name for the first time, the sound of it a cold, clinical blade. "You made a fool of yourself. You let your emotions dictate your actions. You picked a fight you could not win in a way that made you look weak. You threw a tantrum, and Potter played the hero. As a result, he is now a celebrated member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and you are here, complaining."
He let the words sink in before continuing. "I, on the other hand, used logic. I broke no rules. I merely spoke. And Professor Snape, unlike Professor McGonagall, recognizes the difference between emotional weakness and strategic thinking. Gryffindor rewards impulsive, rule-breaking Gryffindors. It is their nature. We are Slytherins. We are supposed to be better than that. We are supposed to win."
He turned his back on the stunned Malfoy and walked towards his favorite armchair in the corner. The silence in the room was now one of dawning realization. He hadn't just escaped punishment; he had articulated the core of their frustration and turned it into a lesson on Slytherin ideology. He had proven, in one afternoon, that his methods yielded better results than Malfoy's birthright.
As he sat down and opened a book, he was aware of two figures who had not been part of the angry mob. Theodore Nott was watching him from a shadowy alcove, a thoughtful, calculating look on his face. And Daphne Greengrass, who had been observing the entire scene from a plush sofa, met his eyes across the room.
She gave him a slow, deliberate nod. It was not a gesture of friendship. It was a gesture of acknowledgment, a recognition of a shift in power.
The reign of Draco Malfoy, the boy who had everything, had just ended. And the silent, unnerving rise of Kaelen, the boy who had come