“That was to stop Mr Potter from getting hurt, Professor,” Morrin said without the slightest change in expression.
“And I believe Professor McGonagall also mentioned my…
technique.” “Hmph.” Snape gave a derisive snort, one corner of his mouth curling in mockery.
“She said you were a genius.
She also said she would quite like to poach you for Gryffindor.” “But I must remind you, Mr White, that even if you can fly like a dragon with wings, first-years are not permitted to own broomsticks, much less join their House Quidditch team.” “Those are the school rules.” “Rules are rigid, Professor.
People aren’t.” Morrin stepped forward, drew a sheet of parchment from inside his robes, and laid it gently atop Snape’s desk, which was buried beneath piles of student essays.
“What is this?” Snape frowned.
“A commercial sponsorship proposal,” Morrin said with a smile.
Suspiciously, Snape picked up the parchment and skimmed the first few lines.
A moment later, genuine astonishment appeared on the face that was usually set in a permanent scowl.
“Nimbus 2000…
seven of them?
Enough to replace the entire team’s brooms?” Snape’s voice rose slightly.
“Yes, Professor.” Morrin explained calmly.
“From what I’ve seen, the Slytherin team is still using Cleansweep Fives from three years ago.
Meanwhile, I hear Gryffindor is quite likely to equip their precious Boy Who Lived with the latest Nimbus 2000 this year.” “This is no longer merely a question of skill.
It’s an arms race.” Morrin planted both hands on the edge of the desk and leaned forward.
The oppressive presence granted by his [Half Giant Bloodline] seeped out almost imperceptibly.
“If we don’t want to watch Potter ride the best broom on the market and snatch the Golden Snitch right over Slytherin’s heads, then we need to crush them in equipment as well.” “These seven Nimbus 2000 will be my personal donation to the House.
No strings attached, except one.” Snape narrowed his eyes, reassessing the boy standing before him.
He had seen arrogant students.
He had seen talented students.
He had seen wealthy students too, Malfoy, for instance.
But never had he encountered a first-year who combined all three so perfectly, then used them to conduct a negotiation based on such a shamelessly open exchange of interests.
“You want a place on the team,” Snape stated.
“Chaser.” Morrin nodded.
“Professor McGonagall should already have told you about my flying.
Add seven Nimbus 2000 to that, and this year’s Quidditch Cup will be staying down in the Slytherin dungeons.” Snape fell silent.
He was weighing his options.
As Head of Slytherin House, he craved glory, especially the glory of defeating Gryffindor.
Harry Potter joining the Gryffindor team was practically a foregone conclusion.
If Slytherin made no changes, this year’s Cup really could slip from their grasp.
And besides…
Seven Nimbus 2000.
That was an enormous sum of money.
Even the Malfoy family would hardly donate seven of the latest racing brooms in one go.
“Professor McGonagall said that if I agreed, she would help petition Dumbledore for a special exemption.” Snape slowly tapped one finger against the desktop.
“On the grounds of…
‘special talent recruitment.'” “But there is one problem, White.” Snape suddenly rose.
His black robes billowed around him like a pair of bat’s wings as he moved around the desk and stopped before Morrin, looming over him.
“While I appreciate your…
generosity, if your performance on the pitch proves unworthy of that Nimbus 2000, I will personally throw you off the team and have you clean every one of the thousand specimen jars in the dungeons.” Morrin smiled.
The deal was done.
“Agreed, Professor.” Morrin held out a hand.
“Also, regarding my paper, Commercial Applications of the Oscillatory Cooling Method in Potion Improvement—” “Leave it here.” Snape waved him away irritably.
“Now get out.” “As you say, Professor.” Morrin gave a slight bow and turned to leave.
At the doorway, however, he suddenly stopped and glanced back at Snape, who had already buried himself once more beneath his mountain of parchment.
[Inspection Target: Severus Snape] [Traits Held: 🔴 Red | Extreme Remorse, 🔴 Red | Sectumsempra, 🟡 Gold | Potions Grandmaster…] Morrin’s fingers lingered on the door handle.
Extracting now was too risky.
Snape’s [Master of Occlumency] made his mind extraordinarily sensitive.
If the extraction failed, or even merely alerted him, the fragile little alliance of mutual interests Morrin had just established would collapse instantly.
Hold back, Morrin warned himself.
Wait until I’ve saved up a Guaranteed Extraction Card, or until his opinion of me improves a little more.
He quietly closed the door behind him and left the dungeons.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ The Slytherin common room was still bustling when Morrin pushed open the door.
Draco Malfoy was in the middle of regaling Pansy and Goyle with a highly embellished account of his performance during flying lessons.
Naturally, he had omitted the parts where he had thrown Neville’s Remembrall and been taught a lesson by Morrin.
The moment Draco saw him return, his voice cut off abruptly.
“Well?” Draco could not resist asking.
“What did Professor Snape say?
He gave you a proper telling off, didn’t he?” “I knew it!” “Flying that fast right in front of Professor McGonagall—” Morrin ignored him and walked over to the noticeboard beside the fireplace.
An old notice for Slytherin Quidditch trials was still pinned there.
Morrin drew a quill from his robes, added a single line to it, then turned around to face everyone in the common room.
“Pass the word around.” His voice was not loud, yet every ear in the room immediately pricked up.
“The entire Slytherin Quidditch team will be receiving new equipment at seven o’clock next Monday evening.” “New equipment?” Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch captain, a hulking older student who looked rather like a troll, shoved his way through the crowd with a scowl.
“Who authorised that?
I’m the captain!” “I did,” Morrin replied evenly.
“Who do you think you are?” Flint roared, reaching out to seize Morrin by the collar.
“Some jumped up little first-year—” Smack*.* Morrin’s cane struck Flint squarely in the chest.
The power of his [Half Giant Bloodline] erupted in an instant.
The enormous boy, a full two heads taller than Morrin, was actually driven several steps backwards before crashing down onto his backside.
“I’m your new Chaser.
And—” Morrin pulled a collection slip from Gringotts out of his pocket and let it flutter down onto Flint’s face.
“—the team’s sole sponsor.” “Seven Nimbus 2000, Captain Flint.” Morrin looked down at him.
“If you don’t want yours, I can always give it to one of the reserves.” Flint snatched up the collection slip.
His eyes went wide.
His hands began to tremble.
Nimbus 2000!
The latest model!
The broom every Quidditch player dreamed of owning!
The fury vanished from Flint’s face in an instant, replaced by a horribly contorted, ingratiating smile.
“Oh…
Mr White.” Flint scrambled to his feet and even brushed some nonexistent dust from Morrin’s shoulder.
“Welcome to the team!
I’ve always thought Chaser was practically made for you!” The surrounding Slytherins watched the scene unfold, and the awe in their eyes deepened considerably.
That was Morrin White.
He had brute force when he needed it, and another superpower nobody could refuse.
Cold, hard cash.
Morrin turned towards the dumbstruck Draco.
“Draco.” He beckoned.
“W-what?” Draco stammered.
“Help me write home tomorrow.” Morrin settled back into his personal armchair and closed his eyes.
“Tell my father to send over my personal broomstick.” “Your…
personal broom?” Draco’s curiosity immediately overwhelmed his nerves.
“Is it another Nimbus 2000?” “No.” Morrin opened his eyes, a mysterious smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“It’s the first generation prototype produced by my alchemy laboratory.” “I call it—” “Black Swan.” CREATORS’ THOUGHTS Hidden_Quill Thank you so much for reading!