Snape was not in a particularly good mood that evening, from which Harry inferred that his meeting with Dumbledore earlier hadn’t gone very well. After some consideration though, he guessed it could have been okay, Dumbledore seemed to really get on Snape’s nerves sometimes, even when they were having a normal conversation.

But however Snape was feeling, Harry was still surprised that the man spent the evening in his House common room. It had made sense earlier in the week, when the man was helping students with homework, but right now the man had simply sat himself down in a comfy chair with a large pot of tea at his elbow.

The professor had suggested that Harry come along as well, since there was not much else that the boy could get up to. They were both surprised to realise that Harry had completed all of his homework to an acceptable standard. Harry especially, since Snape had threatened to have him doing extra potions work for the entire weekend.

With nothing else to do, Harry found himself being dragged along to one of the open areas of the common room by Fowley. There was already a small group of about six students, boys and girls from the younger three years all sitting on the floor.

There was a series of rings drawn on the floor in white chalk, and at the middle of the smallest was a hole in the ground. Harry heard a clinking noise and looked over to see Blackfort sorting a large bag of gobstones into groups, based on their colours.

“You playing, Potter? I only have half an hour before I have to get back to work, so you had better hurry up if you want a game.”

Harry shook his head, “I don’t know how to play. I’ve only had a shot once, and we just had to get it closest to the middle. I’ve never played it like this.”

“It’s easy!” Fowley said. “Look, it’s a bit like that, but instead of aiming for a jack, you have to get it closest to the pit. Without getting it in of course.”

“You can’t call it easy,” a third year laughed. “Until yesterday, you couldn’t even tell which of the stones were yours!”

“Well, now I can. And I haven’t lost yet.”

The third year rolled her eyes, “You have only played three games since then, you are still near the bottom of the league.”

Fowley looked like they were going to launch into an attack on the girl, but was brought up short when Blackfort tapped them both sharply on the head.

“Focus. Why don’t you explain to Potter how to use the marbles? It sounds like he doesn’t have much of a clue.”

Harry would have been offended, but truthfully he was pretty terrible at the game. He had only ever played it against the Weasleys and they had their own odd version of lots of different games all cobbled together into one. He had played against Seamus once as well, but he was on the school team, and Harry hadn’t stood a chance.

Harry was grateful that Fowley took the time to show him how to actually cast the stones. Last time, his thumb had been one big bruise because of the technique he had been using. Not that Fowley was the most patient of teachers.

“No, idiot. You are supposed to flick it.”

“Are you trying to miss? Sure you don’t need new glasses, Potter?”

“Why the hell are you kneeling on the chalk?”

Harry took it with as good a grace as possible, which was a considerably difficult thing to do. Especially with all the little Slytherins giggling away.

Finally, Blackfort was ready. He pushed a set of red gobstones towards Harry with a barely concealed grin.

Harry considered his borrowed robes and was suddenly glad that he had put so much effort into learning cleaning spells the last couple of days.

The battle was fierce and short. And the outcome inevitable.

Harry lost.

He could probably have done worse if he had put some effort into doing so. As it was; three of his gobstones wound up in the ‘snake pit’; two were knocked completely out of the ring and the other two had obviously not been seen as enough of a threat to even have been moved out of the way.

There was, however a neat ring of five silver gobstones balanced neatly on the rim of the pit. Harry was grateful that he had at least managed to knock two of his opponent’s pieces out of the way. It was embarrassing enough as it was. Fowley was crowing with laughter.

“Don’t worry about it, Potter.” Blackfort was saying, “I’m the club captain for Hogwarts this year, so you didn’t have a hope anyway.”

Harry was too busy making use of those new cleaning spells to reply. By the time he could, Blackfort had already reset the game and started playing against one of the third years. He looked like he was determined to fit as many games as possible into his free half hour.

“Apparently, those other schools that are coming are going to have other games contests too. So there’s going to be a couple of Gobstones games, some chess league and some other things. Everything apart from quiddich matches apparently.”

Harry sighed, it would be everything apart from quiddich. At least there would be something to keep everyone interested who wasn’t picked for the competition.

“Look, you can practise here.” Fowley said, pointing to a set of rings on the floor, but there was no pit over here. “Professor Snape would only let us make one hole in the floor. He said people would trip over all the time if there was more. It’s not fair, people should just be less stupid.”

“A noble sentiment.”

Harry looked up to see Snape towering above him, as foreboding as ever.

“It’s not particularly noble.” Harry pointed out.

Snape ignored the second year. “And there are more gobstones rings upstairs, Fowley. Before pointing out my supposed ‘unfairness’ maybe you ought to consider that I am the first Housemaster to allow Gobstones in the common room.”

Fowley scowled, “If people don’t trip over this one, I don’t see why they would trip over two.”

“You wouldn’t.” Snape said. “How is that potion working for you?”

Harry left the kid and Snape to talk and started to practice with the odd gobstones which didn’t fit into a set. The third year girl came over to scrutinise his technique, having just lost against Blackfort.

In one spectacularly bad shot, Harry knocked two of his Gobstones right out of the ring instead of closer to the middle as he had been trying. He heard laughter from next to him and was fairly sure he heard Snape scoff too.

“This game requires practice, Mr Potter. A steady hand, a logical mind, a keen eye for angles. I realise these things might be difficult for a Gryffindor such as yourself.”

Harry smirked, a piece of golden information looming up suddenly in his mind.

“I agree, Professor. Some people are just born with these skills.”

“It takes dedication too, Potter. Hours of practice.” Snape said.

“Yes, Sir.”

Snape narrowed his eyes, sensing that Harry was going somewhere with this.

“I think there are a couple of Gryffindors who are good at this too though, Sir. I wouldn’t discount all of us.”

“The Weasley twins do not play Gobstones, Potter. I would have noticed.”

“No, not them. The person I was thinking of is on the Hogwarts team though.” Harry said. He saw Blackfort look up from his game, grinning. So did Snape.

“Blackfort. Could you enlighten us on what Potter is babbling on about? He seems to take hours to get to the actual point of most conversations.”

“Yes, Sir.” Blackfort stood and dusted off his hands on the side of his robes. “The only Gryffindor on the team is probably the third best player we have. He’s been on his house team for two years and the school team since last year. Longbottom, Sir.”

The name was said in a rush as Blackfort noticed Snape was anything but patiently listening to him.

Snape snorted. “Longbottom is on the Gobstone team? The school must be struggling for players more than I had thought. Blackfort, find any first or second year students that played as children and tutor them in gobstones when they get detention.”

“You can’t let people play gobstones in detention!” Harry said, scandalised.

“Gobstones until they collapse from exhaustion.” Snape said firmly.

Harry couldn’t tell if Snape was joking or not. Blackfort just grinned and nodded, agreeing solemnly out loud.

One of Harry’s gobstones exploded suddenly and a revolted Fowley was forced to pull a hankie out of their pocket to wipe up the mess on their arm.

“Fowley, if you do not procure some clean handkerchiefs from somewhere, then you are first in line for enforced Gobstones.” Snape said, disgusted.

“But then I’d just have more of the same problem!”

“Hey, Potter, you got a minute?”

Harry looked up to see Zabini standing nearby with some notes.

“I asked Professor Snape for help with this earlier and he said I was being lazy and he wouldn’t. Apparently it’s the same Transfiguration questions you’ve done- McGonagall gave me extra because I fell asleep in her lesson.”

“You fell asleep when she was teaching and you’re still alive?” Harry said, standing up. He figured that Snape would probably be arguing with Fowley for a while, and it looked like there was quite a queue for the game too. Harry glanced at the clock and saw it was only a couple of minutes to nine o’clock. He wondered if Fowley was so deep in conversation so that they could stretch when they had to go to bed.

“Mostly,” Zabini said. “She wouldn’t even give me a detention to do them in since she said I had to do it in my own time.”

“That sucks. Hey, won’t Snape mind that I’m helping you?”

Zabini gave him a look which said Harry ought to know better by now. “The professor wouldn’t help me earlier because it’s too easy a cheat. It isn’t the cheating he objects to- it’s the method.”

Harry was confused.

Zabini tried again, “He would probably be annoyed if I asked any of the Slytherins in our year because any of them that would help me, actually like me. I can’t ask somebody older, because I don’t have very much to trade and my pocket money doesn’t come until the end of next week. But I can ask you, because we aren’t friends.”

“But why did you think I’d help you then?”

“I didn’t.” Zabini shrugged, but it seemed like a graceful movement the way he did it. Even Snape might not object to the gesture. “But you looked like you would rather be anywhere but over there and it was easier to ask you than to try to read the whole chapter on the subject.”

“Oh.”

“So, will you help? I can give you some dirt on Malfoy before he gets back from his detention?”

“Uh, no it’s okay.” Harry grinned, “I’ll help anyway. I could do with being away from Snape for a while.”

Zabini’s homework was fairly easy, and Harry found that it didn’t take very much hinting for the other boy to know what to do. Zabini was obviously good at transfiguration, which explained why McGonagall got so annoyed at him.

“Can I ask you a question?” Harry asked, after the work had been finished and they had both leaned back in their seats.

“Why not, go ahead.”

“So I saw Pansy Parkinson curtsey earlier…?”

“That was not a question, Potter.” Zabini rolled his eyes. “But yes, some of the older families do hold onto those customs. Not many, it has to be said. I cannot imagine bowing to Professor Snape unless he had done me some great service.”

Harry considered this. It seemed really weird to him, but he supposed that made sense. He remembered meeting someone in the Leaky Cauldron before first year who had bowed at him a lot. Not that the man should have done, it wasn’t like he had done anything.

“Can I ask something else?”

Zabini waved a permitting hand.

“Why is everybody so nice to Fowley?”

Zabini raised an eyebrow, “Fowley is a pain in the ass. Nobody is nice to them.”

“You know what I mean. Why none of the Slytherins are jerks to them? Or, what do you all get out of it, I guess?”

“We don’t need to be cruel. Besides Fowley is the heir for their family. It is disadvantageous to insult them too much.”

“What does that mean, if you’re the heir?”

Zabini frowned for a moment. “It used to mean that you were the one who was going to inherit, but the laws have changed over time and now all children inherit equally. Fowley has a younger sister, and they are both due the same upon their parents’ deaths. The same way my brother will inherit as much as I do. The Weasleys will have the same, whatever they do have will be split between the entire family. The new laws are part of the reason their generation is so poor.”

“Don’t say that about the Weasleys!” Harry said, sharply.

“Don’t say what?” Zabini tutted. “It is all facts Potter. If their family was smaller, they would likely have more money. That is a fact. I am not blaming them, it is a decision based on different values.”

Harry frowned, still rankling at what the other boy had said. He wondered if it was time for him to go back over to the Gobstones matches.

“The Potter family made the opposite decision, of course” Zabini continued, oblivious. He leaned back and closed his eyes, seemingly ready to have a nap- despite it being nine o’clock in the evening. “Your grandparents waited until late in life to have their child, a risky decision, and then only had one. Presumably this means most of their fortune is still intact, but we will not know for certain until you are of age, most likely.”

“Who exactly is we?”

“Society, Potter.” Zabini smirked, not bothering to open his eyes, “What else do you think purebloods spend their time obsessing over?”

“The Malfoy family went down the same route as the Potters, believing it better to concentrate the wealth. Families like the Blacks and the Fowleys acted similarly but with an ‘Heir and a spare’ mentality. That was very helpful considering the war, although a lot of families were wiped out nonetheless.”

“Huh.”

“Do you feel adequately enlightened, Potter?”

“I guess so.” Although, thinking about it, Harry wasn’t convinced that his question had been answered. On the other hand, Zabini had told him quite a lot about other things and now he knew why there was no family left on his father’s side.

“You finally found somebody who would help you at a low cost, Zabini?”

“Not at all, Sir. This is entirely in the spirit of inter-house unity!” Zabini actually managed to open his eyes as a sign of respect for his Housemaster. Or possibly a respect for the punishments of said Housemaster.

“Nice attempt. That might almost work on Professor McGonagall. The Headmaster would pretend he believed you, but it might cause him to trust you less in the future, so be cautious.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Potter, Zabini, it is quarter to ten- you both have fifteen minutes until lights out or you will be losing housepoints.”

Zabini stood up with as little effort as possible, strolling towards his dorm. Snape tilted his head to one side, Harry guessed that he was considering hurrying the boy along.

“But it’s still a Sunday tomorrow.” Harry protested, unsure why he was bothering. “Why do you even have curfews at the weekend? And my room is at least a five minute walk away.”

“We have curfews in Slytherin so that our students are awake at the right hours of the day to walk the corridors. Slytherins are actually awake in the mornings to go out on the grounds as they please, to talk in the corridors, to have clubs. I realise this may be a foreign concept to a Gryffindor-“

“Okay, I get it. I’ll go to bed.”

Snape’s eyebrow began to ascend.

“Sir.”

It descended again. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. Snape hadn’t even made a fuss about him interrupting.

“Goodnight, Mr Potter. Do not forget to set your alarm spell for half past six tomorrow.”

“Ugh, yuck. Goodnight, Professor.” Harry bowed, in what he hoped was a satirical way, and not a clumsy one, and ran for the door before Snape could say anything else.

He missed the potions master rolling his eyes. As soon as the door had closed and Snape knew that Harry was on the way to his room, Snape went to the door which led to the dormitories. On the way, he intercepted the Head Girl and instructed her to check on the First to fourth year girls who were already supposed to be in bed.

Just the other side of the door to the boy’s dormitories, Snape found Zabini leaning against a wall. For a second he worried that the boy was upset, but upon closer inspection the boy seemed to be drifting asleep standing up.

“Zabini!”

The boy opened one eye, slowly.

“Can I help, Professor?”

“Boy, if you are not in bed in two minutes, you will have to go to bed at eight o’clock tomorrow night.”

“Oh, could I?”

“Which of course means getting up at five o’clock the morning after. And I might have you practicing Gobstones in your extra time. Apparently the school team is short on players and you did used to play, did you not?”

Zabini grimaced, “Goodnight then, Sir.” He disappeared in moments. Snape thought he caught a muttered “Bloody Gobstones.”

Snape rolled his eyes. Zabini was too predictable for his own good, although he had chosen the best person to help him with that homework earlier. At least the boy was a good Slytherin, even if it was not off his own merit. Perhaps he ought to make a similar attempt with Crabbe and Goyle, it would be good to expand their influence but they had already worked out a rather clever con with the Malfoy boy. The boy might not have noticed he was being played.

Snape made his way to another room, this one with only one person in. He heard bare feet clattering on stone and rapped on the door.

“Are you decent?” He asked.

“Not usually.” Came the reply. The door opened anyway, and Fowley appeared in a bright green dressing gown. “Yes Sir?”

“Why are you not yet asleep?”

“Well you did knock on my door…”

Snape gave Fowley a look, showing he was not in the least fooled.

Fowley coughed and avoided finishing their last sentence. “I was just getting into bed.”

“Of course you were. The head girl might check in on you, I did not mention it to her.”

The door closed again and Snape returned to the Common room. Once there he walked up to one of the portraits at the side of the room. The tapped the frame three times with his wand and watched it glow where he had hit it. After a few seconds, he heard his own voice talking to him.

‘Detention,’ it said. ‘Put the brooms away. Mr Malfoy…’ Snape listened to the end of the speech, smiling slightly to himself. When the voice had stopped, Snape looked at the plaque on the portrait frame, it now read J. Bartell, where seconds earlier had been the name T. Blackfort. The professor smirked, happy that his prefect had taken a sensible course of action and not abused the power of his voice.

Not that that happened often. There were still horror stories whispered amongst the prefects of his house about a student who had thought it would be funny to call out the names of all of the dating couples in Slytherin House to the assembled snakes. Instead of doing it with their own voice, or through an anonymous medium, they had chosen to use the setup with the voice altering portrait frame and the giant snake to project the pairs’ identity in their housemaster’s tones.

That particular prefect had never quite recovered from Snape’s assessment of their sense of humour. None of the other prefects in the last ten years had forgotten either.

Satisfied that his house had been in good hands during his absence, Snape went back to his office. He had lessons to plan. And he had to see if that damned Moody had left any mess.