In the previous timeline, she had been… remarkable.
A year below him, she had quickly made her presence felt in Slytherin.
When she received a letter informing her that her father had purged the Black family library of all “Dark” books, her furious outburst had become legend.
It had taken the house-elves days to repair the damage—and she had only been a first-year at the time.
Later, she had joined Voldemort right after Hogwarts.
Through the visions Harry had endured, she had appeared as a younger, saner version of Bellatrix Lestrange: intelligent, ambitious, beautiful, lethal, and—most importantly—trainable.
In short, she would make a perfect Lady Slytherin.
Finally, there was Lord Jacob Greengrass.
The man seemed reasonable, and the one duel Harry had witnessed him in had been impressive, even if he had eventually fallen to Voldemort.
It was his quiet leadership of the Neutral faction that made him valuable.
That, and his eldest daughter—the Ice Queen of Slytherin—would undoubtedly prove a useful ally.
Harry finished adjusting his appearance, checked his Transfiguration one final time, chain-apparated to the Hog’s Head, and stepped into the fireplace.
“Greengrass Manor!”
≤○≥
Lord Jacob Greengrass shot to his feet as the Floo flared emerald green and the hooded figure from the Leaky Cauldron stepped gracefully into the room.
The man immediately lowered his hood and offered a polite smile.
“Lord Greengrass, thank you for receiving me on such short notice.”
Jacob stepped forward to shake his hand and froze in surprise.
The face beneath the hood was far younger than he had anticipated—perhaps twenty, or twenty-five at most.
“Lord Slytherin, we are both honored and surprised to welcome you into our home,” Jacob said, gesturing toward the witches of his family.
She looked thoroughly pleased by the gesture.
He repeated the courtesy with Daphne and Astoria.
Daphne let out a small giggle, and Jacob thought he caught a brief flicker of surprise cross the young lord’s face.
Ten minutes later, the two men were seated opposite each other in the comfortable leather armchairs of Jacob’s private office.
“So,” Jacob began, “the Wizengamot.”
Lord Slytherin inclined his head.
“Indeed. Let us address the obvious first. The winter solstice is approaching, and the Chamber will formally acknowledge my ascendancy.”
“Something I am most eager to hear about. Though I assume you wish to know what you stand to gain by allying yourself with the Neutrals?”
Slytherin smiled.
“We can discuss the details of my Lordship later. As for your question… No.”
“No?”
“I already know what I stand to gain. I am Gray, through and through. For the purposes of this conversation, I am also Neutral.”
“And by ‘Neutral’ you mean…?”
“I mean I stand with neither the bigots of the Dark—who would drown our world in hatred—nor the fools of the Light—who would destroy our culture and hand our lives over to an overreaching, draconian Ministry.”
Jacob nodded slowly.
“So you are offering unconditional support. That is most welcome.”
“Well… sort of.”
Jacob frowned.
“Sort of?”
“The Neutrals are losing, and I do not accept defeat. Tell me, Lord Greengrass—what exactly do the Neutrals stand for?”
The question caught Jacob slightly off guard.
“As you said yourself—we are those who believe both the Light and the Dark are extremists who will tear our world apart if left unchecked.”
“I’m sorry, isn’t that what I just said?”
“Not quite. You described fighting to preserve the status quo. That is not moving forward—it is simply trying to stay in place.”
“But maintaining the status quo is the point, for the most part.”
“Exactly. And that which merely preserves the status quo is neither inspiring nor attractive to the young and impressionable. Consider how Voldemort rallied the children of pureblood families to the Dark, or how Dumbledore gathered half-bloods and those from lighter houses to the Light.”
Jacob mulled over the young lord’s words.
“So you’re suggesting we need a clear mission? Something to rally the next generation around?”
“Yes.”
“And I imagine you already have one in mind.”
Lord Slytherin swirled the brandy in his glass, his gaze distant for a moment before returning to the present.
“I am sick and tired, Lord Greengrass—sick and tired of the slander cast upon my House. Tired of those who believe Slytherin stands for hatred and bigotry. Tired of the notion that ambition and cunning are inherently evil, or that ancient magic is dark by default. And tired of those who use my House’s name to justify their atrocities.”
Jacob was taken aback.
He had heard similar sentiments whispered among Neutrals at private gatherings, always in fear of being overheard.
To hear them spoken so boldly by Lord Slytherin himself was galvanizing.
“You propose resurrecting Slytherin House under Neutral ideals as a rallying banner for our faction.”
“Precisely.”
Jacob leaned back, thinking.
It was an ambitious plan—one that would require shifting the philosophical foundations of a significant portion of wizarding society.
Yet with a living Lord Slytherin as its legitimizing force, it might just be possible to draw in more moderate Dark and conservative Light families.
“Such a plan would depend heavily on your personal power and credibility as Lord Slytherin.”
“Money is no concern. The Slytherin Lordship granted me access to family secrets that ensure more than sufficient wealth. As for magical ability…” Lord Slytherin smiled.
“Do you happen to have a duelling room?”