[167] The Taste of Iron

"Getting rid of the Dementors immediately is impossible." Snape stood before the arched window of his office, fists clenched on the cold counter, dark gaze fixed on the Dementors floating outside Hogwarts. "Even Dumbledore can't manage that. Cornelius Fudge..." His voice dripped venom. "Sometimes the fools come from within."

He turned sharply toward the office door. "Who?"

"Professor Snape, it's me." A red head poked through the doorway, looking up with a fawning smile.

Snape narrowed his eyes. No matter how many times he saw that colour scheme — absurd. Had Slytherin become a watermelon patch?

Hall caught Snape's expression and suspected he was thinking something unpleasant.

"What is it?" Snape's black robes billowed as he drifted from the window to his desk.

Hall stepped forward, pulling out three familiar silver coins. "Professor, I've discovered some novel applications of magic. I brought you a few."

Snape took the coins. Unlike Draco, he didn't need an explanation. The engraved lines told him everything.

"An Imprinting Charm?" His voice carried a hint of surprise.

"As expected of the Head of Slytherin!" Hall gave him a thumbs-up.

Snape remained unmoved. "I've read The Origins of Magical Spells. I'm familiar with common spell forms. This is Binding, Expelliarmus... and the third?"

"Stunner."

Snape nodded calmly. "Interesting. But not enough to impress me." He tucked the coins into his inner pocket.

Hall grinned. Snape's acceptance meant he was satisfied. Getting honest praise from Snape would take a world war or a cosmic reboot.

"You can test them, Professor. If they work well, you can order more. Custom orders too. Though you'll have to wait."

Draco had asked for a Patronus coin, but not every spell could be engraved.

Snape's sharp gaze swept over Hall. A quiet child was always up to something. Hall had been unusually quiet lately — Snape had worried he was plotting something big. Now he knew.

"If you want these coins to be taken seriously by professors and Aurors, those three spells aren't enough. You need something more competitive. More practical."

Hall blinked. That sounded familiar. He'd said the same thing to Fred and George.

"I've been developing other uses for instant-cast spells. The enhanced Lumos — used as a flashbang."

Snape stared at him like he'd seen a prehistoric monstrosity. How did his house end up with such a bizarrely imaginative student?

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"If you encounter problems, ask Professor Flitwick. He might have ideas." Snape pushed the strange concept out of his mind, ready to push the student out with it.

"Yes, Professor! I'll definitely ask Flitwick!"

Snape shifted uncomfortably under Hall's earnest gaze. "Have you been making any potions lately? If you need ingredients, you can ask me."

"Professor, I want a Silent Bird feather."

Snape's expression hardened. A Silent Bird feather? Eighty-one Galleons — if you could even find one. It always fetched triple digits and sold the instant it appeared on the market.

Hall had asked for that?

Countless thoughts stampeded through Snape's mind. He'd walked right into this one.

Snape pulled a feather from the cupboard. After some hesitation, he added two more, then ruthlessly kicked Hall out of his office.

"Professor, I'll come back once I've figured out the new silver coin!"

Hall waved the three Siren feathers excitedly. The only response was the door slamming shut.

"Helena~"

He checked the enhanced Marauder's Map. Unsurprisingly, Helena was in the Chamber of Secrets. She occasionally visited Ron or came to check on Hall's progress, but most of the time she preferred to sleep in her master's old room. As if it would bring her closer to him.

Hall felt a pang of sympathy. If possible, he wanted to help Helena find her master. But the time-travel array that even Salazar Slytherin had gotten lost in wasn't easy to study.

"With the Siren feathers, I can try some things."

He made his way to the Chamber.

Helena was coiled on the dilapidated bed. "Sssss~" She opened her eyes.

For a fleeting moment, Hall saw something in her gaze — an excessive maturity, completely out of character. Before he could react, she reverted to her usual dazed self and slithered toward him, wrapping around his wrist.

"Hss~ Hall~ Why did you come to see me~ Hss~ Is there news of my master?!"

She arched into an S-shape and lunged at his face. Hall caught her.

"Calm down." He stroked her gently. She curled up in his hand.

"Hsss~ So comfortable~ So what did you want?"

"I want to try unraveling the secrets Slytherin left behind. I need your help."

"Hss~ Will it help me find my master? Hss~ Helena doesn't mind if it will!"

Her jewel-like eyes seemed to glow in the dim light.

"Maybe it will work, maybe it won't. But we should try."

Hall had chosen now for a reason. Dementors circled Hogwarts, making it seem unsafe. But in reality, he'd destroyed most of Voldemort's fragments. He'd thwarted the resurrection plan. The escaped Death Eaters wouldn't find it easy to cause havoc.

He hadn't been unprepared.

A certain Mr Rosier — the exchange student who hadn't yet joined Hogwarts — had been busy.

Russell Rosier was unaware Hall had thought of him. He was contacting his aunt, Vinda Rosier, his face clouded with worry.

Evening in France. Vinda Rosier in the two-way mirror was as haughty as ever — a blooming French black rose.

"How is your master's task progressing?" She went straight to the point.

Russell felt his already-fragile heart take another blow. Did anyone in this world care about him?

"The commotion in England — just some worthless trash who tried to imitate his master and failed utterly." Vinda's voice dripped with contempt for Voldemort.

Russell agreed internally but kept his expression neutral.

"Aunt, I've done what the young master asked. The escaped madmen's attention has been successfully diverted to France and Germany. Many of them believe the way to resurrect their master lies in those two countries."

It hadn't been easy. After receiving Hall's instructions, Russell had put considerable effort into this — using his connections in France and Germany. It had taken about a month.

Vinda's expression shifted. A faint, dreamlike smile crossed her face.

She knew the Rosier family. They possessed all the arrogance and self-interest of pure-blood wizards. They wouldn't do anything without benefit — unless they found someone they truly wanted to follow.

Vinda was no exception. For the master she believed in, she didn't mind regarding Hall Weasley as her young master. He was Grindelwald's student, after all. His successor. The title fit.

But her nephew — he'd been completely won over by Hall in such a short time.

Vinda felt a renewed curiosity about the young master she'd only met briefly.