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Slytherin House debates the DA issue

Chapter 12: The Slytherin Debate

"What did you mean by going to bloody Potter's bloody fan club meeting?"

"Belt up, Draco, I'm not going to talk until you're able to talk back civilly."

"Don't walk away from me!" Draco grabbed Lily by the shoulder and spun her around. Her wand was up and pointed before she finished turning.

Blaise had entered the Slytherin common room behind Lily, and just ahead of Millicent Bullstrode and the fifth years. He drew his wand with deceptive languor, and smiled like a predator. "Unwise to cross a witch who’s just been at duelling practice, Malfoy."

Pansy joined Draco, a frown knitting her brows nearly inseparably. "We don't mix with that sort, Jones. Even you should know that by now."

Draco's fury had been diverted to Blaise. "You lured her into it, didn't you, Zabini? She was curious, and this was your chance to get her away from me."

Blaise's smile grew broader. "Believe that if you like. I had my reasons."

Slytherins called others out of the dormitories. Within a few minutes, a circle of the hostile or merely curious had surrounded the small knot of new Defence Association members. Millicent had her back to Lily, hunkering down in attack position. Lily found it reassuring. Millicent had expressed her great gratitude to Lily since the night of the Halloween Ball. With the fierce loyalty of someone who had never been shown much kindness by her peers or really anyone else, she now was Lily's faithful admirer and henchwoman.

Lily, however, was not going to hide behind Millicent or behind Blaise, for that matter. Speaking up clearly, she declared, "I thought it was better to know what was going on, than not to know. Potter received the highest O.W.L for Defence in Hogwarts' history. He's known to have defeated Voldemort" (there was a panic-stricken storm of whispers) "at least five times. Like him or not, he's a kind of genius at Defence, and I for one am not going to miss any opportunity to learn how to protect myself."

Draco's stared at her, face blanched with horror. "You dare say the name of the Dark Lord."

Lily felt her temper slipping. When she and Blaise had put out tentative feelers to one another, one day after History, they had known that their attendance at the D.A. would cause controversy. Now, her careless use of a madman's name had well and truly fanned the flames. She gritted out, "He's not my lord. He's not any sort of lord."

Pansy was angry and afraid. "You're going too far, Jones. You may come from some backwoods school and think you're clever, but we know the Dark Lord's power, and show respect for his name."

That's it. Lily felt her fury rise up like fiery wings, and tried not to shout. "Which name? He may have made up some ridiculous title for himself, but everyone knows he's plain Tom Riddle, former Head Boy of Hogwarts, now would-be Evil Overlord of the Wizarding World."

She was surprised at the absolute silence, and then realised that her words had shocked the other students in the room. She seized the initiative, and went on.
"Ironic, isn't it, that the leader of the pureblood movement is the halfblood son of a witch and a Muggle?"

Draco was still horrified. He stared wildly at his friends: Nott, who stared back dumbfounded; Goyle and Crabbe, who had failed to follow the debate, and were hopelessly confused; the older Slytherins, Montague, and the Rosier cousins, who appeared stunned that such a discussion was even taking place. Wands were out, but no longer pointed.

Montague began, "That can't be true---"

"It's true," Blaise supported her serenely. "His birth is still known to a few old-timers in Italy and the south of France—my mother's family territory--- and he hasn't managed to kill all of them and the truth with them. He is a halfblood, and, it would seem, insanely ashamed of it."

"Who wouldn't be?" called out an anonymous jokester.

Lily, now knowing herself committed, decided to be open about what she knew. "Voldemort--- or Tom Riddle, if you prefer, grew up in a horrible Muggle orphanage. His mother died, and his Muggle family wanted nothing to do with him. Of course he hates Muggles. He came to Hogwarts and was Sorted into Slytherin—some of you must know that," (there were some wary nods) "and was a model student" (except for setting a basilisk loose on his fellow students, she thought, but now isn't the time to digress), "and there's an award with his name on it here at the school."

Draco's first shock had worn off. He stood, serious and incensed, forcing his voice to a reasonable level. He was hearing unpleasant new allegations tonight, from an unexpected and distressing source, and he was trying to force the new information into his old frame of reference.

"All right," he began, rather coldly. "Let's say for the sake of argument that these stories are true. They may call into question the Dark Lord's heritage, but they really have nothing to do with his policies or ideas."

"I disagree," Lily said decidedly, also with forced calm. "I think his birth and upbringing have everything to do with his ideas, his policies, and his motives. This is a person who was mistreated by Muggles, and then, halfblood though he was, came to Hogwarts and was Sorted into Slytherin. My guess is that he had a fairly rotten time for at least the first few years. Imagine—a halfblood whose books were no doubt paid for by the Governors' fund for charity cases. He would have had nothing—and would have been wearing the shabbiest clothes. How do you think he was treated by this House?" She paused to let her words sink in.

Draco was white with tension and fury. "What's your point, then?"

Lily drew a harsh breath. "My point, Draco, is that maybe that's the point. Maybe Voldemort hates purebloods just as much as he hates Muggles. In fact, he probably hates the entire wizarding world for leaving him with the Muggles and then treating him wretchedly when he was in school. Voldemort promises his followers 'rewards beyond their dreams.' Maybe he's having his little joke on them. What have his faithful followers got in return for services rendered? Let's see—years in Azkaban, dispossession, living in hiding—and let's not forget The Kiss. That's a good one. I'm sure none of his followers dreamed of any of those rewards. Meanwhile, the new Evil Overlord has risked nothing himself, because he has nothing worthwhile to lose."

The room was eerily silent now. Lily had learned the names of the Death Eaters captured at the Department of Mysteries. She knew that that their sons and daughters, nephews and nieces, were confronting her: some white and strained as Draco, some red-faced and furious as Crabbe. Still and all, no curses were flying yet. The night is young, though. I wonder if the seven of us will make it out of here alive. But if we don't say these things, who will?

Pansy broke the quiet. "You think that the Dark Lord's ideas about Muggleborns and the purity of wizarding blood are only a cover for his real aims, then?"

Blaise answered her. "What better way to divide the wizarding world, create chaos, and betray us to the Muggles? The Aurors are going mad, trying to obliviate all the Muggles who have seen the Dark Mark. If this goes on, our secrecy will breached beyond repair, and then we'll see days that will make the Witch Hunts look like perfect peace."

Lily added quietly, "What better way to destroy the purebloods forever, than by deceiving and discrediting their natural leaders?" She could not know this was true, but it was so byzantine and devious that it sounded reasonable to her. More importantly, it seemed reasonable to the Slytherins. And it was a sop to Draco's pride. It portrayed his revered father not as an enemy, but as a fellow victim.

Theodore asked Blaise. "So you're coming out publicly against the Dark Lord?"

"Yes," Blaise answered simply. "The time has come for all of us who do not want to be regarded as Death Eaters to clearly proclaim ourselves. Voldemort" (The other Slytherins looked at each other uneasily) "cannot win. He can create chaos, he can kill or torture, he can destroy our world; but he cannot create a functional new one in its place. Even if he destroys his current enemies, a society built on terror or torture—even of his own followers—will collapse in the end. It always has, throughout history. Some of us remain awake in Binns' class." There were a few scattered laughs. He went on, with unusual intensity, "The Zabinis have always been businessmen. We want a world in which we can do business. You cannot do business with a madman demanding that you kiss the hem of his robes, and then cursing you if you tell him unpleasant truths. In the end," he concluded proudly, "Voldemort has nothing to offer me that I cannot get for myself."

Lily added, more quietly, "If Voldemort were really sincere about his ideas, he wouldn't be going about them as he does. He's not consistent. He kills purebloods as often—or even more often—than anyone else. Ordering his followers to kill a few Muggles here and there really doesn't advance his policies at all."

She saw Draco's blank expression—and he was not the only one—and felt annoyed. "Do any of you know what the Muggle population is? How many of them there are? There are millions—literally millions of Muggles in England alone. What is the wizarding population of the British Isles?" She waited.

Amethyst Grimstone, standing behind her, answered instantly. "Twelve thousand, three hundred forty-five, as of yesterday. And that includes Squibs."

Twenty points to you, Amethyst, thought Lily. You should have been a Ravenclaw!

Lily followed this up immediately. "We're a tiny population, and hopelessly outnumbered. We can't afford to lose anyone."

Goyle, still bewildered, blurted out, "You mean it doesn't do any good to kill Muggles?" Lily was not pleased to see the amused smirks of her housemates.

"I can see why Voldemort might order his followers to kill Muggles. It makes the true believers imagine that they are advancing the cause. It's a way of proving his control, and it desensitises his followers to acts of violence. After all, once a Death Eater has killed a Muggle, why not a Muggleborn, and then why not a halfblood, and then why not a pureblood? Violence is a tool of Voldemort's; but it's a tool he wields for his own advantage, not ours."

Draco would not be diverted from his own thoughts. "None of this solves the Mudblood Problem. Even if Voldemort is just using us, he's still the only one who has any ideas about preserving wizarding society from contamination."

I really don't want to get into this now, Lily thought, starting to sweat a little. This is going to be the hardest issue to deal with. Knowing that she was walking on eggshells, she began mildly, "Is there a Mudblood Problem? If there is, what exactly is the problem?" Seeing outraged looks, she said quickly, "I'm not trying to be deliberately obtuse, but what if this issue is something Voldemort has made up just to suit himself?"

Pansy snarled, exasperated, "It is a real issue! This school is deluged with ignorant, vulgar Mudbloods who know nothing of wizarding tradition. They swagger around Hogsmeade in their ugly, common, Muggle clothes with stupid Muggle slogans—they bring in their repulsive music and dance, and they tell their Muggle relations all about us." She took a deep breath, and declared, "It's not safe!" Shouts of agreement seconded her.

Draco agreed. "Wizarding culture is under attack! Our first-year classes are watered down to explain the simplest principles of magic to mudbloods." He flushed angrily, "Oh, I grant you a freak here and there, like that Granger! But she's just as bad. She's doesn't understand wizarding culture at all, with her hand waving and her shouting answers out of turn in that crass, pushing way!"

Lily reined in her impulse to rise to her friend's defence. In all honesty, she had to admit that Draco's perception of Hermione, though coloured by prejudice, was not that far off the mark. Hermione's aggressive and competitive behaviour in class was born of her fierce desire to prove herself; and Lily could see that other students, trampled in her rush to excellence, might find her intolerable. She could be tactless, she could be insensitive, and had Lily not met and befriended her outside of class, Hermione's idiosyncrasies might have put her off as well.

She said, "I agree that the wizarding world here is not assimilating the outsiders very well, but there are effective ways to improve that situation. In the Americas, there are programs to orient Muggleborns early on; the families are screened for potential security leaks; and children at risk are removed from their Muggle families, who are then obliviated." She winced inwardly. Oh, well done, Lily, let's convert the Death Eater progeny from murder to kidnapping. I'll worry about that later. She raised her voice to make herself heard, "The Muggleborn may exist for a reason! When Amethyst told you the population figure, I don't think some of you realised that the total wizarding population is going down, not up. That's the real crisis, and that's what Voldemort and his mania about the Muggleborn is keeping unnoticed and unaddressed."

Her listeners quieted down, somewhat interested. A few had sat on the floor, as if watching a play. She went on, more sure of herself on this topic. "How many of you are only children?" A large number of students raised their hands, including a reluctant Draco. "How many of you have only one other sibling?" The balance of the room responded. "Anyone with more than one?" A single third-year held up a hand. "The British wizarding world is not doing very well reproducing itself. The Muggleborns are the only thing keeping our population from plunging."

"And the Weasleys!" snapped Pansy. There were snorts of disgusted laughter.

Lily went on. "There are a lot of factors, I know that: the custom of not having so many heirs as to divide family fortunes down to nothing—the war—the fact that a lot of witches and wizards never marry at all—look at our professors!" (There were groans and laughs) "It could be that the Muggleborns are an important resource that we're not making the most of." She impulsively confided, "I was working on a study of Muggleborns in my old school—trying to really see what the affect was. There's a lot we don't know—why Muggleborns suddenly appear in the population—how reliably they produce magical offspring. I just think that we need to know more, before we dismiss a group of people that could be useful."

Blaise broke in smoothly, "So let's set that whole issue aside for the moment. We can deal with the Muggles, and the Muggleborns, and the halfbloods when we can deal with them from a position of strength. Until Voldemort is defeated, many of us from old pureblood families will be under suspicion. If Voldemort is defeated without our help, our power and prestige will be permanently compromised. If we concede leadership in this struggle to the Gryffindors, we will face a future with the likes of Arthur Weasley as Minister of Magic. And that," he said emphatically, raising his voice above the outraged clamours, "is why we decided that Slytherin House needs to be a visible presence in the fight against him. Finally, it's unwise to have the rest of the school learning who-knows-what in the way of jinxes, hexes, curses, and defensive shields, without having our own people in there to even the odds."

Draco visibly relaxed. This argument obviously made sense, both immediate and concrete, to him, as it did to a number of his housemates. He said so, grudgingly. "I see your point. But it's still Potter."

"Yes, well, that's unfortunate," said Blaise blandly, "but Potter is nearly an institution, and we have to put up with him if we want to maintain our influence. I will say that he was surprisingly decent about us showing up at his meeting. It was Weasley who nearly had a stroke."

Grins and derisive laughter followed that remark. Draco was uncommonly thoughtful. "Potter overruled Weasley, then."

Lily said, "Granger hushed him, and Potter ignored him. I think both of them recognise the value of Slytherin co-operation." Draco made a face, but said nothing. She added, "And then Professor Lupin made it clear that any student could participate."

"It's our best opportunity to win respect and gain advantage in the coming war, and in the inevitable power vacuum afterwards," Blaise observed grimly. "It won't present itself again."

Theodore nervously suggested, "Perhaps we should talk to Professor Snape about this—"

Draco cut him off sharply. "No!" He collected himself, and drawled, "You know how the Professor hates Potty and his friends. No chance of a balanced view there. Besides, he may have his own loyalties."

Uneasy glances were exchanged. Lily knew that many of the students believed Severus to be a follower of Voldemort. She longed to defend him. Although his position as a spy and a suspected Death Eater might be useful to Dumbledore, she felt it was harmful to his Slytherins. Many of them respected him, and would be swayed by his rumoured endorsement of Voldemort. Many others, afraid to confide their opposition to him, would take the path of least resistance, and either fall into Voldemort's orbit, or keep their heads down, hoping that the war would somehow pass them by. Lily saw Daphne in a corner, trying not to be noticed by anyone. It must be terrible to be afraid all the time.

The Slytherins were breaking up into small groups: some, like Daphne, were slipping away to their dormitories, to be out of sight and out of mind. The fourth years, none of whose parents were known Death Eaters, were open to the ideas of those who had attended the Defence Association meeting. Even more, they seemed a little envious of the adventure.

The seventh year boys, who seemed to want to conceal the divisions amongst them, muttered together angrily for a short while: a hushed discussion punctuated by a few discreet shoves. After a few more minutes, they decamped for their dormitory as a unit, still in hot debate.

Millicent, surprisingly calm through it all, looked about the room. She told Lily gruffly, "We should put perimeter wards on our beds tonight. Not that I think Pansy or Daphne would try anything. But just in case."

Blaise heard her, and smiled grimly. "And don't accept any chocolates---for that matter, don't accept anything that can be ingested, breathed, or absorbed through the skin." He eyed Lily with some amusement. "I thought we weren't going to get into the whole "Oldyfart" issue tonight."

Lily knew she had nearly ruined everything, and was bitterly regretting her temper. "I lost it," she admitted. "You saved the day, Mr Smooth."

"It's just as well that it's out in the open. I would have had to say all that someday. Better now, when it will have some impact, than later, when it might be too late to do anyone good." He laughed lightly. "Perhaps you should have been a Gryffindor. You certainly charged into battle like one tonight."

Crabbe walked by, and blustered, "Afraid to sleep in the room with us tonight, Zabini?"

Blaise smiled sweetly. "No," he said. "I'm not." With a nod to Lily and Millicent, he swept away.

Draco was brooding, slumped on one of the huge leather sofas. He looked up as Lily passed by. "We need to talk."

Lily stopped. "Talk, not yell," she warned. He nodded gravely.

Lily touched Millicent's shoulder. "I'll be all right. Try to calm Pansy down, and tell her I'll be up in a bit."

She sat on the sofa opposite Draco and waited.

"I can't go against my father," he said, finally.

"You need to consider your own future, too, you know," Lily suggested.

He licked his lips, and went on, as if he had not heard her. "Our family has so much invested in supporting the Dark Lord. My father has lost his governorship of this school, his position in the Ministry, his freedom—all because he believes. Do you really think," he asked Lily, "that the Dark Lord meant for all of those things to happen to him?"

"Draco, I can't know that, but I'll tell you this: I don't think your father's sacrifices mean a thing to Voldemort. I can well believe that he enjoys seeing a man like your father ruined and made completely dependent upon him. I don't think he cares about anything other than his own power; and I think he sees his followers as nothing but pawns. Your father may have been useful to Voldemort, but Voldemort has not been useful to him."

He said slowly, "The last time, the Ministry didn't punish him because he told them he had been under Imperius. This time, he wasn't even given a trial. I don't blame him for getting away."

Lily thought this over. "If Voldemort had put your father under Imperius successfully, he would remain highly susceptible. We all know that."

"He says that no one can resist the Dark Lord--that the best one can do is remain essential." He sat a moment longer. "If Father really were under Imperius, that would be horrible. It would be making a puppet of a Malfoy."

She had an idea, and asked Draco, "Did your father's father go to Hogwarts?"

"Of course."

"When?"

"I don't know—he died back in the '70's." He caught on, and said, "Are you thinking that he might have gone to school with the Dark Lord?"

"It's possible. We should find out. It might be important to know if he did, and what sort of relationship they had."

Draco put his head in his hands. Lily waited tensely. She knew that her hypothesis—that Voldemort hated the pureblood elite and was engineering their destruction—required a paradigm shift in Draco's entire worldview. He had had his share of knocks in the past few months, and here was another. Still, with Blaise's help, it had been presented in a way that would appeal to Slytherin ambition, and be congruent with the undercurrents of paranoia that permeated Slytherin House.

The fire burned lower, flashing glints of green and hot blue. Lily stared at it absently and thought about Severus. She needed to talk with him as soon as possible about tonight's events. Perhaps some Voldemort supporters amongst the students might tell him, but it might be kept from him entirely.

She needed to talk with Harry and Hermione, too. Harry's acceptance of the Slytherins at tonight's meeting required immediate follow-up. If only Draco can be made to see that he doesn't need to embrace Voldemort just because he dislikes Harry! It's mad, for a schoolboy rivalry to determine life and death loyalties!

"I need some sleep," Draco said, his voice muffled by his hands. "I'll think better in the morning." He got up, and was halfway to the dormitory staircase, when he turned and asked, pain in his voice, "I just need to know if you like Potter. Did you go because you like him?"

"I was there because I don't want anyone else to know more than I do in a duel," she answered, with perfect truthfulness.

"I hate Potter," Draco muttered, half to himself. "Saint Potter. Wouldn't even touch my hand our first day. Didn't want to be friends with me." He looked even more desperate. "Is it Blaise, then? You went to be with him?"

No, I went because I want to kill Oldyfart, you silly boy. Lily decided she had been reckless enough for one night, and instead of uttering her first thought, she got up and walked over to Draco. She took him in her arms and held him tightly. His arms finally came around her. He was feverishly hot, and his heart pounded as if he had been fighting an army. Perhaps he had. He smelled of potions herbs, of expensive wizarding scent, and of weary boy. Her hands rested on his back, and she could feel the slight play of Quidditch muscles over the ribs and shoulders. He sighed.

She pushed him gently away. "Go to bed." He managed a slight smirk, and his hand touched her cheek. Turning, he trudged up the stairs and out of sight. Lily was alone in the common room, and she went back to the luxurious sofa and collapsed back onto it, blowing out a breath.

"Well," a honeyed baritone growled. "That was quite a spectacle."

Lily leaned back, and was rewarded with the sight of an upside-down Severus Snape. Groaning, she sat up and faced him properly. Severus was not quite in glare mode, but he was not happy.

"Oh, gods, Severus, please don't sneer, snark, or snarl at me. I'm dead knackered. How much did you see?"

"Enough. I have ways of monitoring the common room." He looked down at her, eyes black and unreadable. "Don't call me Severus here," he corrected her in an undertone. "We don't know who may be listening. Come to my office immediately after Charms tomorrow. We must talk."

She nodded. "Yes, sir, Professor Snape, sir."

He fixed her with a sour look, and remarked regretfully, "You really are such a Gryffindor, after all. Get off to your dormitory and don't forget to set wards. I don't want to deal with the paperwork if you're murdered in your sleep." She did not move. "Now, or I'll deduct points." He lowered his voice further. "From Gryffindor." He was gone in a whirl of black robes.

Lily huffed a wry laugh, and headed upstairs for a restless and unsatisfactory night.

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Next chapter: The Uninvited Guests: Hogwarts becomes a refuge for the disaffected.
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