"Isn't it wise to claim protection? Especially if he's someone as amazing as our… as my lord."
Clare shifted in her seat. Having this conversation with a girl so much younger than her felt awkward. "How do you know what he's like? You don't know anything about him."
Hermione waved vaguely. "That's not quite true. My dorm mate is my lord's betrothed and I've known him personally for years. Slytherin is amazing, and the longer you know him, the more obvious that becomes."
Clare's mind screeched to a halt. "Wait. Your dorm mate is betrothed to Lord Slytherin? And she's your age?" incredulity permeated her voice.
"Yes," Hermione said, unconcerned. "That's quite normal in the wizarding world. It's not like they're getting married until they're older."
Clare tried to take this in, but couldn't quite manage it. True, her impressions of the wizarding world up to this point hadn't exactly been from the best perspective, and her clients had often asked for some pretty messed up things, but listening to a twelve-years-old, very clearly British girl calmly talking about arranged marriages with such large age differences like they were nothing unusual felt rather disconcerting. Hermione tilted her head. "Would you care for some tea and biscuits?"
The Christmas break came and went and Clare tried to reconcile the many rather extreme and unusual views Hermione seemed to hold with the obviously intelligent girl she was. She asked Dan and Emma what they thought about the betrothal thing in particular and they said they, 'try not to think too hard about it.'
Clare on the other hand didn't know what to think.
It was two weeks into the new school term when Slytherin next visited.
She and Emma sat upright on the large sofa in the living room while Dan and Lord Slytherin were sat in opposite arm chairs. "So," Emma started, "you're trying to get at this thing that someone is protecting but is really using as bait to lure this other guy into a trap and you need an effective way to communicate to get past the defences in a high magical environment?"
"That's about the size of it," Slytherin said.
Clare couldn't help herself. "But, why would anyone actually leave the thing in the trap if it's so important? Why not just say it's there?"
Slytherin nodded to her. "Trust me, anyone who knows anything about the guy in question would tell you he's just the kind of arrogant to believe no one could get past his defences. He'd do it just to feel clever."
Dan turned over the silver hand mirror in his hands.
"So," Slytherin possibilities?"
continued,
"any
Dan rubbed his chin. "Getting at the runes on the inside without damaging the mirror itself… We were just talking with your buccaneers about that the other month. Yes, there might be a way from the non magical world."
"Really?" surprised.
Slytherin
actually
sounded
"Yes. We might be able to use a CAT scanner… there's no iron in it… we don't need to identify perfect detail, just what the symbols are and in what patterns…"
"How much would a CAT scanner cost?" Slytherin asked. Dan snorted. "About one to three million pounds."
"Ah."
Dan shook his head. "No, we'd have to rent time on one."
"And you could do that?"
Dan hesitated. "We might get away with saying it's for archaeological research?" He looked towards Emma.
Emma inclined her head.
Dan turned back to Slytherin. "Okay, we'll give it a shot. But what are you going to do about the family magic? Even if you know the rune patterns it'll be useless without the enchantments." "I'll just have to give them an offer they can't refuse." Slytherin relaxed back in his chair.
Dan, Emma, and Clare all looked at Slytherin with looks of amused concern, although in Clare's case there was less amusement and more concern.
Lord Slytherin looked back and forth between the three of them, all staring at him. "What?"
January faded into February, and by now Clare had broadly came to terms with her place in Slytherin's little world. She'd come a long way from the feeling of resigned despair at being forced to have sex every night with whoever was willing to pay.
Being able to go to magic school had been her dream for all her teenage years, and she now had it, even if it was rather slow going, but she was still waiting for the moment that Slytherin turned up to tell her it was all off and she was going to go back to being a prostitute again.
Still, Dan and Emma were much nicer jailers than the last lord who owned her, and, occasionally, she even got to go on field trips, although, if she'd known exactly where they were going for this one, she'd probably have asked to be left at home.
"Lot number 95," the man at the front of the room called out. "Seven, large unopened boxes of Doctor Filibuster's No-Heat, Wet-Start, Fireworks, one box slightly damaged. We'll start the bidding at two galleons (£100)."
All around the large open room, wizards and witches raised wands and fired out numbers to show their bids and counter-bids.
Clare sat on her chair, uncomfortably aware that not seven buildings away from this one, stood the polyjuice brothel. A place she'd hoped never to get within a mile of, ever again, or, failing that, just Knockturn Alley.
"Lot number 106," the man called out again. "A silver ring — good condition — dated at circa 1400's Milan — showing the emblem of the Viradini family — we'll start at forty galleons (£2,000)."
Clare couldn't help notice, as the bids quickly picked up pace around the room, that Slytherin—sat a few chairs away from her, along with Dan, Emma, and a Lord and Lady Greengrass—hadn't bid on anything yet.
She leaned over to Emma. "Is there anything in particular he's looking for?" Emma handed her the brochure. number 108 — he's just coming up."
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