Alex stared at him, still processing the information. The timing felt odd. Prefect appointments were usually announced after the final exams, following nominations by the heads of houses and approval by the headmaster. Letters were then sent out during the summer holidays. Why was Snape telling him about this so early—months before the end of term?
Moreover, Alex wasn’t exactly prefect material. Prefects were responsible for managing house affairs, patrolling at night to enforce curfews, and docking points for rule violations. But Alex was practically a ghost in Slytherin. Half the students probably didn’t even recognize him, and he didn’t particularly care to know them either. The thought of dedicating time to such responsibilities felt like a waste, taking away from his research and training. “You’ve decided this already? Isn’t it a bit early?” Alex asked cautiously, trying to mask his reluctance. “Besides, I’m usually busy. I might not have time to manage house affairs.”
“I’m aware,” Snape said flatly, giving Alex a pointed look. “I’ve heard your charming nickname—‘Ghost of the Slytherin If Vivian hadn’t been around today, I doubt I’d have found you at all.”
“Then why nominate me?” Alex tilted his head, genuinely baffled.
Snape didn’t respond directly to Alex’s question. Instead, he asked, “What’s your opinion of Slytherin House as it stands?”
Alex shrugged. “The school’s peaceful enough. Everyone’s doing their own thing. Apart from the occasional scuffle with Gryffindor, I’d say it’s fine.” Truthfully, Alex didn’t care much about house politics. Most days, he returned to the dormitory well after curfew, often without seeing another Slytherin all day.
“Peaceful?” Snape let out a sharp, derisive snort. “This month alone, Slytherin has lost 200 points in fights with Gryffindor, and you call that ‘fine’? You’ve been so detached you can’t even tell how divided the house has become.”
Alex blinked, taken aback. He hadn’t been paying attention to house points—it wasn’t his concern. As far as he was aware, he hadn’t lost any himself, though it probably helped that no one could ever find him to try. Snape’s meaning became clearer: he wanted Alex to help fix Slytherin’s problems. “In that case, why not deal with it yourself?” Alex asked, his tone faintly incredulous. “You’re the head of house. Give them orders, or push the prefects to keep everyone in line.”
Snape’s eyes narrowed as he glared at Alex. “Do you think I haven’t tried?” he snapped. “I’m stretched thin as it is—teaching classes, maintaining my... other responsibilities. And even if I had the time, do you think these students would change just because I told them to? Slytherin has been fragmented for too long. The gang Yaxley led left an ugly mark. Now, every student is looking out for themselves, and the house has lost its sense of unity.”
There was a flicker of frustration in Snape’s voice that Alex rarely heard. The professor’s exhaustion was obvious. Between his duties at Hogwarts and keeping tabs on the Death Eaters outside the school, Snape was clearly juggling more than he could handle. The situation with Yaxley hadn’t helped either. Last year, Snape had reluctantly allowed the pure-blood faction to stir up trouble within the school as part of a larger plan to root out Death Eaters. That plan had been thrown off course by Alex’s intervention, though it had ultimately led to Yaxley’s capture.
Still, the damage had been done. Yaxley’s influence had fractured Slytherin into cliques, each faction looking out for its own interests. Pure-blood students jeered at half-bloods, and the latter occasionally retaliated by applauding whenever pure-bloods were punished. The divide had grown toxic.
What Snape didn’t know—or perhaps did—was that Alex had quietly encouraged this division. He had manipulated the tensions on both sides, using Vivian and Rozier to stir the pot while staying in the shadows. He’d escalated the chaos until Yaxley and his group became reckless enough to overreach. Without Alex’s subtle provocations, Yaxley might never have made such bold moves. “So you want me to clean up the mess?” Alex asked, frowning. “You want me to fix Slytherin?”
“Just for a year or two,” Snape replied. “Once my plate is clear, I’ll deal with it myself. I only ask that you bring back at least one House Cup in the meantime.”
Snape’s frustration was palpable. He had deep pride in his house, and it clearly pained him to see Slytherin reduced to a laughingstock. During his own school years, Slytherin had frequently won the House Cup. Since his return as head of house, however, they had barely managed third place year after year, often scraping the bottom with Gryffindor.
Alex leaned back in his chair, thoughtful. “If I do this, will it settle the bet I lost to you?” he asked, his tone measured.
Snape’s lip curled in annoyance. “Do you really need to frame it that way? Don’t you have any sense of honor or responsibility as a Slytherin?”
Honor. Responsibility. The words struck a nerve. In his previous life, Alex’s sense of honor had been tied to his duty as a soldier—to defend his country and obey orders. But that result??? What he get back make him fum in anger… till the point of losing his life. Anger start growing in his heart but Alex forcefully push it down. He has told himself to focus on this new life, and forget all about it.
“Are you sure I’m the right person for this?” Alex asked finally, sidestepping the question of honor. His tone was cool, detached. “Do you really think I can make a difference in Slytherin?”
“I’ve seen what you’ve done for Vivian, Charles, and the others,” Snape replied, his voice sharp with irritation. “Even those Gryffindor brats. The only one you haven’t managed to improve is Vivian—unless you count her gaining an extra dozen pounds. It’s clear you’re not entirely loyal to Slytherin, but you’ve proven you can influence others.”
“In that case,” Alex said, his lips curling into a sly grin, his sharp gaze meeting Snape’s, “I’ll accept your request. But…” His voice turned cold and commanding. “If I’m going to handle this, I’ll do it my way. That means complete control—no interference, not even from you.”
Snape raised an eyebrow, his own lips twitching in the faintest smile. “Confident, aren’t we?”
Alex’s grin widened. “If you trust me with this, I’ll deliver results. I promise, from now on, the House Cup will belong exclusively to Slytherin.”
Snape leaned back, clearly amused. “We’ll see. Just don’t make me regret it.”
Alex’s acceptance was partly to fulfill the terms of the bet he’d lost to Snape. But the main motivation? Snape’s gift of Sectumsempra—a spell with devastating power. It had quickly become one of Alex’s go-to offensive spells. Repaying that debt was only fair.
After leaving Snape’s office, Alex stopped on his step, ‘Forget it, you’re Alex now, remember all of it has passed, there’s nothing you can do.’ After a few more deep breath all the flashback that run trough his mind dissapeared, getting his calm back, he mulled over his next steps.
If he’d promised results, he’d need to fully understand the state of the house. Until now, he’d avoided getting involved, and while his friends occasionally mentioned house gossip, he’d paid little attention. Even Vivian’s constant chatter had been nothing more than background noise to him. “This time of day, the common room will be busy. Let’s start there,” Alex muttered, setting off toward the Slytherin lounge.