Snape led Hall to his office. It wasn't Hall's first time here — he spent every evening working on the Squib potion with Snape. But the atmosphere was different.
Snape sat behind his desk, hands folded, dark eyes fixed on Hall with an unreadable expression.
Is he spacing out?
Hall relaxed. If Snape were truly angry, he'd be yelling by now.
He thought about McGonagall following behind Snape. Maybe Snape dragged me off to protect me from her lecture.
Flying had been incredible. The feeling of the wind, the speed, the connection. He wanted to try the fastest broom in existence — the Nimbus 2000.
But it cost two thousand Galleons. He could afford it, but he couldn't bear to spend that much. His wand was secondhand; his robes were shabby. If he weren't in disguise, he'd be using Bill's old wand.
He snapped back to reality. Snape had already started grading papers, ignoring him.
Hall pulled a chair over and sat down.
"Ah. I thought you enjoyed standing punishment. You have too much on your mind — it's understandable if you're stuck."
"Professor, what do you need? If there's nothing else, I'll go back."
Snape set down his quill. "Henry William."
Hall's heart tightened. Full name. That meant he wanted something.
"I'm listening."
"Would you like to join the Slytherin Quidditch team?" Snape paused. "It concerns the honour of the house."
Hall pretended to think. Inwardly, he was already celebrating. I was just thinking about how to get a new broom. And someone delivers it to my door.
But becoming a Quidditch player wasn't easy. Besides his schoolwork, he spent every evening developing the potion. The stabilising agent was still eluding them. Failed experiments meant no revenue. Adding training on top of that would be a loss.
"Professor, you know my schedule. I really don't have time for training."
Snape had considered this. But Hall's flying talent was too tempting. "You've been exempted from homework for several classes. You can still find time."
When did Professor Snape become a hard negotiator?
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Seeing Hall's pained expression, Snape remembered one of his hobbies. "What do you want in return for joining?"
Hall's pained expression vanished. He held up his hand. "Money."
Snape stared at him. "This is about the honour of the house."
"I know. I guarantee a win. More money."
"Getting into the team isn't easy. Everyone else goes through selection."
"I guarantee a win. More money."
"The rest of the team — even the captain — doesn't get special benefits."
"I guarantee a win."
Snape narrowed his eyes. "They all bring their own brooms. If you join, I can provide you with a new one."
"A Nimbus 2000." Hall paused. "And a hundred Galleons a week. Plus an extra thousand for every win."
Hall knew the Slytherin Seeker wasn't strong. Snape had probably observed training and realised that without changes, this year's competition was lost.
"Are you a Niffler?" Snape's voice rose. "All you think about is money!"
"Professor, how did you know that was my dream?"
Snape's sallow face went dark. He gritted his teeth. "Deal."
The next morning at breakfast, an owl appeared.
The next morning at breakfast, an owl carrying a long, thin package flew toward the Slytherin table. It dropped the package in front of Hall and flew off without ceremony.
Draco leaned in. "What's that?"
The package was wrapped in brown paper, but the shape was unmistakable. Hall had planned to open it in his dorm, but a mischievous impulse took over.
He tore open the paper.
"Nimbus 2000!" Draco's voice carried across the entire Great Hall.
"Nimbus 2000!"
"Nimbus 2000..."
Hall facepalmed. Well, now the whole school knows.
By lunch, the whole school knew.
Thanks to Draco's announcement, the entire school knew that Slytherin had its youngest Seeker in history. Hall was practically a celebrity, constantly surrounded by gawkers.
Luckily, he had the Marauder's Map. He could navigate the corridors without being seen.
But for some reason, Ron had been glaring at him every time they passed. That boy's gotten bold. I'll steal Scabbers one night and teach him a lesson. Not all Gryffindors are good people.
Speaking of Scabbers — Hall's eyes lit up.
He knew exactly what that rat was. When Percy first brought Scabbers home, Hall had recognised it immediately. He'd even tried to kill it. But the rat was either lucky or skilled at evasion — it dodged everything.
An unregistered Animagus. Peter Pettigrew. The man who betrayed the Potters, framed Sirius Black, and hid as a pet rat for over a decade.
At the time, Hall had no way to prove it. Who would believe a child?
But now he was at Hogwarts. There were plenty of people who could reverse an Animagus transformation.
I'll act tonight.
Marcus Flint, the Slytherin Quidditch captain, interrupted his thoughts. "Training this afternoon. Small lawn near the Forbidden Forest."
Flint had been resentful from the moment Hall joined the team. He'd even tried to confront Snape about it. His courage had failed the moment he saw the Head of House — self-preservation was bred into Slytherin bones.
Flint had hinted to the team that they should teach the new Seeker a lesson. Run him off the team through humiliation.
Hall arrived at the small lawn to find the team already mounted on their brooms, waiting. He smiled warmly.
Fifteen minutes later, Flint and his teammates were rolling on the ground, groaning in pain, crying for their mothers.
Hall had been holding back. His Physique was 8/10 — enough to break bones if he went all out.
Dumbledore appeared, clapping enthusiastically.
"Headmaster?" Hall landed.
"That was a beautiful shot, Henry. I haven't seen such an exciting Quidditch display in years."
You just haven't seen a Slytherin get knocked off their broom by a single hit, have you?
"Come, let's take a walk."
Hall handed his broom to the limping Flint and followed Dumbledore across the lawn.