It was a head of house ring, but that wasn't what shocked him.
'No,' he thought, his brain struggling to make sense of what he was seeing. 'The line's lost. It's been lost for centuries.' But there was no mistaking it. Every boy and girl who'd spent seven years in the snake pit could draw that crest by memory, blindfolded.
Then his brain finally caught up with his eyes, and he remembered who the most probable candidate for heir to the Slytherin line had been. He gulped.
"No, I am not he," the man said, presumably seeing the fear that must have leaked onto his face through his occlumency barriers.
"…But, you are…?" he looked at the ring again.
"Yes."
"What do you want to talk about?"
"I know of the situation you face in the Wizengamot. I believe that I hold the answers to many, if not most of your problems."
Lord Greengrass looked at the man, properly this time. The black robes, tinted with green, and tastefully embroidered at the edges with silver, were of the finest acromantula silk, and below the robes he caught glimpses of dragon hide. What little the man displayed screamed wealth, power, and sophistication. "I would be honoured to welcome you into my home, at two o'clock tomorrow, if that suits your fancy."
"It does, Lord Greengrass." And with a short bow, he turned and walked away, before disapparating with a loud 'crack!'
Jacob stared into space before realising Sunny was probably going mental on the other side of the floo. Although, now he thought about it, it was likely nothing to her reaction when she learned that they had less than twenty-four hours before they hosted Lord freak'n Slytherin.
Harry stood in his cave-vault and cast a critical eye over himself in a full-length mirror.
Yesterday's time in the alley had brought mixed feelings.
One the one hand, he'd barely been able to suppress his instincts to lash out when he saw the Potters walking down the street. The bitterness fuelled by ten years of dementor hell was still almost overwhelming. On the other hand, seeing how smug and content his brother was with Weasley on his arm, stayed his hand, and reminded him how good it would feel to rip the two apart and mould her to his whims.
John Potter was still a child at the moment, and wouldn't return back in time from his first death at the graveyard for another few years. The knowledge that John would lose Ginny, not once, but twice, made him feel warm and fuzzy. How he hoped he could see the look on The-Fake-Boy-Who-Lived's face when he 'woke up' on his eleventh birthday to find the girl, who'd obsessed over him since he was five, and who John had grown to love, now loved his dark, evil, future-criminal brother instead.
Then there had been Alexandra Black.
In the last timeline, she'd been… amazing.
She was a year below him, but had quickly made her mark in the snake pit. When she got a letter from home saying her father had purged the Black library of all the 'dark' books, she'd pitched a fit that had been etched into the mind of every student who'd seen it. It had taken the house elves days to fix all the damage, and she'd only been a first year.
Later on, she'd joined Voldemort straight out of Hogwarts, and the visions he'd received painted a picture of a younger, saner, Bellatrix Lestrange. She was smart, driven, beautiful, deadly, and—if the visions from Voldemort were any indication—trainable. In other words, she would make a perfect Lady Slytherin.
Finally, there had been Lord Greengrass. The man seemed amiable, and the one fight he'd seen him in had been solid, even if the former king of Slytherin house had died on the end of Voldemort's wand. It was his unofficial position as leader of the Neutrals that drew Harry to him. That, and his daughter, the Ice Queen of Slytherin, would no doubt make a good ally.
Harry finished getting ready, checked his transfiguration one last time, chain apparated to the Hog's Head, and stepped into the floo.
"Greengrass manor!"
Lord Greengrass jumped to his feet as the floo flared green and the same hooded figure he'd met in the Leaky Cauldron stepped out. The figure immediately drew his hood down and smiled.
"Lord Greengrass, thank you for inviting me."
Jacob stepped forward to shake the man's hand. He was shocked. Lord Slytherin's face was far younger than he'd expected. Maybe twenty? Maybe twenty-five?
"Lord Slytherin, we are both honoured and surprised to be welcoming you to our home," he gestured to the witches in his life, who stepped forward.
Lord Slytherin took Sunny's hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles, who looked quite happy at the charm offensive. The new lord repeated the gesture with Daphne and Astoria. Daphne giggled, and Jacob thought he saw a flicker of surprise flash across Slytherin's face.
Ten minutes later both he and Lord Slytherin were sat opposite each other in his office, comfortable in plush leather armchairs.
"So," Jacob started, "the Wizengamot."
Lord Slytherin inclined his head. "Indeed. Let's get the obvious stuff out of the way first. The winter solstice is coming up soon, and the chamber will be acknowledging my ascendancy."
"Which I am very interested to hear about. But I suppose you want to know what's in it for you, to ally yourself with the Neutrals?"
Slytherin smiled. "We can talk about how I became Lord Slytherin later. As for your other question… No."
"No?"
"I already know what's in it for me. I am Gray, through and through. For the purposes of this discussion, I am also neutral."
"And by neutral you mean…?"
"I mean I side neither with the bigots of the Dark, who would see our world destroyed in a sea of hate, nor the fools of the Light, who would see our culture destroyed and our lives ruled by an almighty, draconian ministry."
Jacob nodded, "So you are offering unconditional support. That is most welcome."
"Well, sort of."
Jacob frowned. "Sort of?"
"The neutrals are losing and I don't accept losing. Tell me Lord Greengrass, what do the Neutrals stand for?"
He was momentarily thrown both by the blunt statement and by the question. "Well, I think you said it yourself. We are a group of people who believe that both the Light and the Dark are extremists who will tear apart our world if left unchecked."
.
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