"I take it, Mr Renshaw, that you're aware of what your being here means for you?"
Snape had brought him into his office, in the dungeons – it was gloomy, dark and creepy.
"Yes, sir."
Snape looked at him, long and hard, as if trying to judge him. I can't afford to have my Head of House hate or dislike me – hell, I can't even afford to have him tolerate me. I need to make him like me. Wait – how do I know he's not also one of them?
"And pray tell, Mr Renshaw, what do you think being here means for you?"
Blake took a deep breath.
"I'll likely be a target, sir. By rac- I mean, blood supremacists. Sir."
"That is correct," Snape drawled, seemingly unimpressed by his knowledge of common Slytherin ideology.
"You'll have to prepare yourself, Mr Renshaw. As a professor, there's not much I can do with the lives of students, unless something is reported. Do you want to report any troubles in the future, Mr Renshaw?"
This is a test. If I report them, it'll only become worse – they'll just do whatever they can when and where there's no evidence and they'll do as much as they can get away with. It would be stupid.
"No, sir."
Finally, Snape seemed like he was interested – just a little bit, but interested nonetheless. Ok, at least he's not outwardly out to get me.
"I see. Well, the Headmaster said it necessary for me to make arrangements to prevent any… unwanted conflict, shall we say? Normally, the rooms accommodate 5 students each, but in your special case, we've decided to allocate you to a room with 2. You will be in a room with Blaise Zabini. Zabini is a known halfblood, and his mother is, let us just say, not on the best of terms with most other parents of Slytherin House members. I'd also suggest becoming proficient in Defence Against the Dark Arts, very soon. You may need it. You are dismissed."
A halfblood? Isn't Harry one of those? I can work with that! Blake thought, putting the thought of the other purebloods away for now.
"Thank you, Professor," Blake said politely, before turning around to leave. Just as he was about to exit the door, however, Snape called out to him.
"Mr Renshaw?"
"Yes, Professor?"
"I cannot, and will not, show you any support or favouritism." Blake wavered slightly, before responding coolly.
"Of course, sir." Seeing the child's calmness, Snape frowned internally.
"Would you like my advice, child?"
Blake's eyes lit up, and he nodded – I'd be grateful for literally any tips right now.
"Pack your things and leave while you still can. Hogwarts is no place for a muggleborn Slytherin."
With that, the door swung shut in Blake's face, leaving him stunned.
He told me to learn self-defence, and to leave while I still can. Is it really that dangerous here? Blake thought back to Malfoy and his father – a Death Eater. That man had probably killed people like Blake for purely existing. How would he take it if Malfoy told him that a filthy mudblood came into his House? Not well, that's for sure, Blake thought drily.
He recalled the advice and warnings of the Sorting Hat and Ollivander.
"Sacrifices will be made, regardless of if you want to or not."
"You will suffer."
Perhaps Blake should have heeded their warnings.
What the hell am I going to do?
Suddenly, Blake was struck by something his mum had said one time, when they were having a conversation about Hogwarts.
"Do you think it will be safe in the wizard school, Mum?"
"Don't worry, sweetie – the professor that approached me promised me you would be."
"But her promises might not be like ours."
"No, Blake – I have a feeling they are."
Professor McGonagall. The Head of Gryffindor, and Slytherin's arch-rivals. But she had promised his mum – Blake just hoped that promise, and the guilt of the child she promised would be safe being put into a snake nest (literally), would be enough to receive help from her.
/
"Mr Renshaw?"
The elderly woman's accent was Scottish and high pitched, and she sounded surprised to see him.
"Sorry to bother you, Professor – I was just wondering if I could talk to you for a second?" he asked, politely. I don't want her to think I'm trying to be cunning or anything, Blake thought. She needs to believe I'm desperate enough for help that I would come to her, but Slytherin enough to not beg for it.
"Of course – come in."
"My mother told me you promised that I would be safe," he said, allowing a slight hint of fear to leak out of his voice. "But, Professor, I'm a muggleborn in Slytherin! Am I safe there?"
Professor McGonagall looked crestfallen and guilty, causing Blake to feel just a small twinge of guilt at playing on her heartstrings. It's fine, it's not like she's sacrificing anything by teaching me a couple of defence spells.
"I'm sorry, Mr Renshaw, but unfortunately, I won't be able to move your House. The Sorting Hat's word is final – but rest assured, Professor Snape, the Headmaster, me, and the rest of the staff will make sure nothing happens," she reassured Blake, but even an experienced teacher like herself couldn't stop the guilt in her voice from coming out. It's working.
Blake made sure to give her the most worried, concerned look he could muster, before responding.
"I appreciate that, Professor, but I don't think Professor Snape will be of much help – he just told me he can't show favouritism, and basically said I have to fend for myself. And the Headmaster's probably busy, and I don't know any of the others – you're the only one I can ask. Please, Professor, teach me some of the Defence Against the Dark Arts spells!"
Professor McGonagall looked at the boy in surprise for a few moments, but seeing he was serious, she sighed.
Well, I suppose he is Slytherin for a reason – it would make sense for him to use his cunning to ask for help in secret. And I did promise his mother…
"Fine, Mr Renshaw – starting from today, we will have extra lessons in private, 2 hours every day, right after the final lesson of the day. If you're late or absent even once, however, I will be ending them. I don't like to waste my time or effort. Am I clear?"
Perfect, Blake thought, displaying a relieved look but smiling internally. It took less convincing than I thought it would.
"Yes, Professor."
"Then place your belongings in the corner, Mr Renshaw. Let us begin."
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