It didn’t take long for the whispers to start.

  Harry, Bise, and Daphne’s decision to live together in Harry’s enchanted private room sent shockwaves through the Slytherin common room. The other students couldn’t help but notice their sudden closeness and the fact that Daphne, a girl, was now sharing quarters with two boys.

  From the moment they began spending nights in the room, the rumors spread like wildfire.

  “I heard Daphne’s parents disowned her, and she’s hiding out with them,” Pansy Parkinson whispered to Millicent Bulstrode.

  Millicent snorted. “Please. She’s probably there because she fancies one of them—bet it’s Harry. I mean, look at him. He’s a Weasley, but he’s practically royalty in Slytherin now.”

  “That’s disgusting,” Pansy hissed. “A Weasley, acting like he owns the pce. And Daphne? Sharing a room with boys? What kind of girl does that?”

  Draco Malfoy, overhearing their conversation, smirked. “I think it’s more than that. Zabini and Greengrass probably convinced Weasley to let them mooch off his wards. They’re scared to cim rooms of their own.”

  But the rumors only fueled more curiosity.

  One evening, while Harry and Daphne were sitting at the Slytherin common room table, working on their essays, Pansy finally approached them with Millicent in tow.

  “Greengrass,” Pansy said sharply, folding her arms. “Care to expin what’s going on with you three?”

  Daphne didn’t even look up from her parchment. “Not particurly.”

  “Not particurly?” Pansy repeated, incredulous. “You’re living with two boys in one room, Daphne. It’s completely improper!”

  Bise leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Improper? Show me the Slytherin rulebook where it says boys and girls can’t share quarters if they choose.”

  Pansy faltered. “It’s—well, it’s not about rules, it’s about appearances! You’re making a scene.”

  Harry finally looked up, his expression calm. “We don’t owe anyone an expnation. Our living arrangements are private, and as long as we’re following house rules, it’s nobody’s business but ours.”

  Of course, Harry’s words didn’t stop the rumors. If anything, they added fuel to the fire.

  “Did you hear what Weasley said?” one student whispered.

  “Yeah. He practically admitted they’re up to something.”

  The upper years were particurly frustrated, as they felt Harry’s growing influence in the house was undermining their authority. Even Draco Malfoy’s efforts to discredit Harry fell ft, as more and more students admired his skill, confidence, and ability to stand his ground.

  The fact that Harry’s wards were impenetrable only added to his reputation. Several students had already tried to break into his room and ended up being hexed or humiliated by the defenses he had pced.

  Daphne, ever the composed strategist, decided to address the rumors head-on.

  One afternoon, she stood in the middle of the common room and said loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m living in Harry’s room because it’s the safest pce in this dungeon. If any of you have a problem with that, feel free to challenge me in the dueling ring. Otherwise, keep your mouths shut.”

  The common room fell silent.

  Daphne wasn’t known for being confrontational, but her reputation as a Greengrass—wealthy, well-connected, and sharp-minded—gave her words weight. No one wanted to risk losing to her in a public duel.

  Bise, ever the smooth talker, added fuel to Daphne’s decration.

  “Besides,” he said with a grin, “we’re just proving what Slytherins are supposed to be about—resourcefulness, ambition, and alliances. Maybe some of you should take notes instead of gossiping.”

  Several younger students murmured in agreement, and even a few older ones nodded reluctantly.

  Harry, for his part, stayed focused. He didn’t let the rumors or snide remarks get to him. Instead, he buried himself in his studies, continued to expand his magical knowledge, and cemented his position as one of the brightest and most capable students in Slytherin.

  It didn’t take long for the compints to reach Professor Snape’s desk.

  From whispers in the hallways to outright accusations in the common room, Harry Weasley, Daphne Greengrass, and Bise Zabini’s unconventional living arrangement became the hot topic of Slytherin House.

  Pansy Parkinson, Draco Malfoy, and a few other students who thrived on status and tradition took it upon themselves to report the trio’s behavior to their Head of House.

  The next day, Pansy marched straight into Snape’s office, fnked by Millicent Bulstrode and Theodore Nott, with Draco lingering at the doorway.

  “Professor Snape,” Pansy began, her voice carrying its usual whiny edge, “we need to talk about Weasley, Greengrass, and Zabini.”

  Snape, seated behind his desk, didn’t look up from the parchment he was grading. “Do you?”

  “Yes!” Pansy insisted, smming her hand down on the desk to make her point. “They’re living together in the same room. It’s improper, and it’s embarrassing for the rest of us. Slytherin’s reputation is at stake!”

  Millicent nodded in agreement. “And it’s making us look like we have no discipline, Professor. Other houses are starting to talk!”

  Finally, Snape looked up, fixing them with his piercing bck eyes. “And what rule, exactly, have they broken?”

  The question hung in the air like a guillotine.

  Pansy faltered. “Well, it’s not proper!”

  Snape raised an eyebrow. “Improper does not mean illegal, Miss Parkinson. And st I checked, what happens in Slytherin stays in Slytherin. Or are you suggesting we air our internal matters to the rest of the school?”

  “But, Professor!” Draco finally spoke up, trying to salvage the situation. “It sets a bad example for the younger students. They’ll think they can just bypass traditions and—”

  Snape cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand.

  “Tradition?” Snape’s voice dripped with disdain. “The tradition of ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness? The tradition of Slytherins using every advantage to ensure their survival and success? If anything, Mr. Weasley and his companions have embodied the very principles this house was founded upon.”

  The group fell silent, their faces turning red.

  “Unless you can point to an explicit viotion of Hogwarts or house rules,” Snape continued, “I suggest you focus on your studies rather than meddling in matters that do not concern you.”

  Pansy opened her mouth to protest, but Snape’s gre froze her in pce.

  “This matter is closed,” he said firmly. “Dismissed.”

  The defeated group returned to the common room, their anger barely contained.

  “I can’t believe it,” Pansy hissed. “He just let them get away with it!”

  Draco scowled, his arms crossed. “Snape’s pying favorites. But this isn’t over.”

  Yet, despite their threats, no one dared to take further action.

  Unbeknownst to the students, Snape’s decision was deliberate. While he wasn’t particurly fond of the Weasley name, he couldn’t deny that Harry Weasley had proven himself.

  Harry had created an impenetrable ward around his room, earned the respect of the older students, and was quickly establishing alliances with influential families like the Greengrasses and Zabinis.

  Snape understood that Harry’s actions weren’t just clever—they were strategic. And as a Slytherin, Snape could appreciate ambition when he saw it.

  He also knew that challenging Harry on this matter would set a dangerous precedent. It was better to let the boy continue building his reputation—and perhaps one day use that influence for the benefit of the house.

  When Harry heard about the failed compint, he smirked.

  “Let them talk,” he said to Bise and Daphne. “We’re not breaking any rules, and they know it. The more they compin, the weaker they look.”

  Bise chuckled. “Snape practically handed us victory on a silver ptter.”

  Daphne, however, remained cautious. “Don’t get too comfortable. People like Malfoy don’t give up that easily.”

  Harry nodded. “I’m counting on it.”

  Florian Greengrass sat in his luxurious study, sipping his evening firewhisky, when the letter from Draco Malfoy arrived. The words written in neat, precise handwriting made his blood boil.

  His daughter—his first-year daughter—was apparently sharing a private room with two boys. Two boys!

  He reread the letter, hoping he had misunderstood, but Malfoy’s words were clear. He even added details about Slytherin’s dormitory traditions, emphasizing how unusual and scandalous it was for a girl to live with boys, especially considering the tiny size of the private rooms.

  Florian smmed the letter down. His wife, Eleanor, looked up from her chair by the firepce, startled.

  “What’s wrong, Florian?” she asked, setting aside her embroidery.

  Florian’s voice trembled with anger. “It’s Daphne. She’s sharing a room—with boys—in Slytherin!”

  Eleanor blinked, then frowned. “That doesn’t sound like Daphne. Are you sure?”

  Florian thrust the letter toward her. “Read it yourself!”

  Eleanor took the parchment and read it carefully. After a moment, she sighed and pced it on the table. “Florian, you’re overreacting. You know how exaggerated Malfoy can be.”

  “Exaggerated? Eleanor, I cimed my own room as a seventh-year, and we both know what we did in there!”

  Eleanor flushed slightly but rolled her eyes. “We were older, Florian. Daphne is only eleven. She’s not like that.”

  Florian wasn’t convinced. “It’s improper! What kind of message does this send about our family? About Daphne? I won’t have her name tarnished!”

  “She’s a Greengrass,” Eleanor said firmly. “Her name is already respected, and Daphne is smart enough to take care of herself.”

  But Florian wouldn’t be calmed. “I need to speak with Dumbledore immediately!”

  Moments ter, Florian Greengrass stood before his firepce, dressed in his formal robes, and threw a handful of Floo powder into the fmes.

  “Dumbledore’s Office! Hogwarts!”

  The green fmes roared, and within seconds, the headmaster’s calm face appeared in the fire.

  “Ah, Mr. Greengrass,” Dumbledore said pleasantly. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”

  Florian didn’t waste time. “We need to talk about my daughter, Daphne. Now.”

  Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes dimmed slightly. “I see. Very well, Mr. Greengrass. Step through.”

  Florian and Eleanor Greengrass swept into the headmaster’s office at Hogwarts, their expressions a mix of outrage and disbelief. The elegant couple exuded authority, their fine robes and sharp features demanding attention. They found Dumbledore seated behind his cluttered desk, looking as serene as ever, while Professor McGonagall stood nearby, appearing slightly flustered from whatever discussion they had been having moments before.

  Florian wasted no time. “Headmaster Dumbledore,” he began, his voice cold and controlled, “can you expin why my eleven-year-old daughter is sharing living quarters with two boys in Slytherin House?”

  Dumbledore blinked, clearly caught off guard. “I beg your pardon?”

  Eleanor crossed her arms, her tone sharper than her husband’s. “We’ve received troubling information that Daphne is not living in the girls’ dormitory as one would expect, but instead, she is living in a private room with two male students—Harry Weasley and Bise Zabini!”

  McGonagall gasped audibly, her hand flying to her chest. “I’m sorry—what?”

  Florian pressed forward. “This is completely unacceptable, Headmaster. I demand answers!”

  Dumbledore, though momentarily thrown, quickly regained his composure. “I assure you, Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass, this is the first I’m hearing of such an arrangement.”

  He turned to McGonagall, who still looked scandalized. “Minerva, did you have any knowledge of this?”

  McGonagall shook her head firmly. “Absolutely not, Albus. If I had, I would have addressed the matter immediately.”

  Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled, but the sharpness in his voice betrayed his own surprise. “It seems we need more information. Excuse me for a moment.”

  With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore conjured his silver phoenix Patronus.

  “Severus, please report to my office immediately. This is urgent.”

  The Patronus disappeared in a fsh of light, leaving the room in an uncomfortable silence.

  Moments ter, the door burst open, and Professor Snape strode in, his bck robes billowing. He took one look at the Greengrasses and then turned to Dumbledore with his usual calm demeanor.

  “You summoned me, Headmaster?”

  Dumbledore gestured to the couple. “It seems Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass have raised concerns regarding their daughter’s current living arrangements in Slytherin House. Perhaps you can shed some light on the situation?”

  Snape’s lips twitched—whether in irritation or amusement, no one could tell. “Ah. This is about Miss Greengrass, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Zabini, I presume?”

  “You knew about this?” McGonagall sputtered, her Scottish brogue thickening.

  Snape turned his sharp gaze to her. “Of course I knew. I am their Head of House. What happens in Slytherin stays in Slytherin unless it viotes school rules—and this does not.”

  Florian’s face turned red. “Not against the rules? My daughter is eleven years old, Severus! What part of this is remotely acceptable?”

  Snape folded his hands behind his back, speaking in a calm but authoritative tone.

  “In Slytherin House, tradition allows older students to cim private rooms if they have the ability to secure and defend them. Mr. Weasley, despite being a first-year, demonstrated extraordinary magical talent in warding and cimed his own room—a feat that none have successfully challenged.

  “Mr. Zabini and Miss Greengrass sought his protection due to threats stemming from their families’ social and political ties. Rather than cim separate rooms and risk constant harassment, they formed an alliance, which is entirely in line with Slytherin’s values of cunning, ambition, and self-preservation.”

  “But it’s improper!” Eleanor protested. “She’s a girl!”

  The tension in Hogwarts was palpable as Florian Greengrass stormed through the castle’s winding corridors, his polished boots echoing against the cold stone floor. His sharp features were set in grim determination, his eyes bzing with anger and concern. Eleanor Greengrass, his elegant and composed wife, kept pace beside him, her expression far calmer but no less resolute.

  Behind them trailed Professor McGonagall, her lips pursed so tightly they nearly disappeared. Her sharp eyes flicked between the Greengrasses, clearly scandalized by the cims she had just heard.

  Dumbledore, calm as ever, walked with a leisurely pace. His hands csped behind his back and his half-moon spectacles glinting faintly in the dim light of the torches. Despite his serene demeanor, his twinkling blue eyes betrayed the curiosity he felt about the situation.

  Snape strode just behind them, his bck robes billowing like a shadow. He had the air of a man thoroughly enjoying the drama unfolding before him. With a faint smirk tugging at his lips, he decided to stoke the fire burning within Florian’s chest.

  “I was at Hogwarts when you were a student here, Florian,” Snape began in his silky voice. “And I distinctly recall that you and Eleanor shared a private room in your seventh year. Wasn’t that frowned upon back then?”

  Florian came to a sudden halt, spinning around to gre at Snape.

  “That was different,” Florian snapped, his cheeks coloring slightly. “We were older—practically adults! Daphne is eleven, Severus!”

  Eleanor pced a calming hand on her husband’s arm, though her lips twitched slightly, as if fighting the urge to smile.

  Snape raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “And yet, despite her age, she has already demonstrated the ambition and resourcefulness you cim to value so highly. Shouldn’t you be proud?”

  Florian’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t about ambition. This is about propriety. She’s living with two boys, and I won’t have my daughter’s name dragged through the mud because of poor judgment!”

  McGonagall finally interjected, her voice sharp. “Poor judgment or not, I expect answers when we arrive, Severus. And I sincerely hope there is a reasonable expnation for this madness!”

  Dumbledore remained quiet, allowing the conversation to py out. He observed carefully, no doubt already forming theories about what had transpired.

  Florian turned back and began marching toward the dungeons, muttering under his breath. “This isn’t about ambition or cunning—it’s about basic decency!”

  Snape smirked again but said nothing, following them down the narrow, winding stairs to the Slytherin common room.