A Young Slytherin: A Barnaby Lee Story -Hogwarts Mystery

The Cursed Vaults

Snape's punishment turned out to be torture psychologically rather then physically. His detention had been to polish all the awards in the trophy room. He sat alone for hours, wiping the dust of plaques and medals given to wizards who had actually accomplished something in their days at school. He felt a pang of shame each time he came across the name Drystan Lee. He was certainly proving that he was nothing like his father, just not in the way he had hoped.

He wasn't sure why he didn't admit that Diego had been the one to suggest the duel. He guessed it was because Diego was smart and capable. No reason for him to join a screwup in detention. Besides, Barnaby had punished him enough by removing his precious hair.

Snape's detention wasn't his last. He'd given up on his classes. It was less embarrassing to fail because he didn't care than because he'd given it his best and still failed. He was given many detentions for falling asleep in class and incomplete homework.

He was also given plenty of detentions for fighting. As it turned out to be the only thing he was good at, he threw all his energy into it. Anyone who sneered at him for being a Death Eater's kid or laughed at him for being stupid was quickly silenced with a punch to the face or a challenge to a duel. Soon, all but the bravest of bullies learned to steer clear of him in the corridors.

Barnaby didn't mind the detentions much. It was better than sitting alone in a corner of the common room or wandering about the castle with no one to talk to. The teachers learned quickly the only way to get Barnaby to behave was to threaten to write to his grandmother.

"Please," he pleaded with Flitwick after a Charms class one day in which he'd failed to submit an essay. "Please, sir. Don't write my Gran. She'll take me home. She won't let me come back."

Flitwick features softened. He could see that the boy was quite terrified. He sighed. "Very well," he said at last. "But you must promise to give more care to your studies in future, Mr. Lee. Or I shall have no choice but to write to your grandmother."

"I will, sir. Thank you, sir!"

These threats worked for a while, but soon Barnaby would be back to his old habits. A few letters were sent home, but he didn't bother to read the angry scoldings and threats she'd send him in response. He hardly cared anymore if he did get sent home. It turned out that life at Hogwarts was just as miserable at Lee Manor. At least at the manor he could sneak of to visit his kelpie.

One evening, on his way back to the dungeons after writing lines for McGonagall, he ran into Merula and Ismelda hunkered behind a suit of armor, both hunched over with laughter. Merula caught sight of him. Normally, she would just ignore him, but she was in too good a mood to let an opportunity to tease him pass.

"Well well, if it isn't the troll," she said. "Back from doing lines with McGonagall? Or is that just a front for her teaching  you to spell your own name?" She pretended to write in the air with a quill, her face screwed up in mock concentration. Her voice became deep and slow as she said, "B...A...S...T..."

Merula barely heard him over Ismelda's shriek of laughter, but she saw him draw his wand.

"Shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you."

Merula's dark eyes became hard as flint. "You dare to threaten the most powerful witch at Hogwarts?"

Barnaby didn't doubt that Merula was powerful. He'd seen in classes how talented and smart she was. The only student in their year who gave her a run for her money was the Gryffindor girl everyone said was cursed.

"I'll challenge anyone who mocks me," he said. He remembered vaguely his early attempts to befriend Merula—to have an ally and to gain some of her power. He brushed the memory aside. It wasn't useful for dueling.