What is normal to the spider,
is chaos to the fly
or
In which Antares Kelly knew he would get tangled in the web of the Order of the Phoenix.
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[THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX]
[BOOK ONE]
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Time ticked by in the silent corridor where Antares waited. He had been standing here for nearly twenty minutes, his only company being the bulky stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's office. Each second felt like an eternity, and his usual high amount of patience began to wear thin.
The reason Antares was so anxious was the fact that Adrian was currently in the office speaking to the Headmaster. After some debate, Dumbledore conceded and told him to bring Adrian to the castle. He wanted to see Adrian's willingness to fight for himself and, if Antares had to guess, use his Legilimency to seek out any ill intentions. If things go well, which they will, then Adrian will be inducted into the Order. Still, Antares couldn't help but feel tense when there was no need to be. Adrian was skilled and capable; he could handle himself.
The sound of shifting stone drew Antares' attention. His eyes flicked toward the gargoyle as it moved aside, revealing Adrian behind it. The other Slytherin was equally tense, almost like whatever he had discussed was not what he hoped for. Antares knew the feeling. He had been through this process himself and understood the weight of joining the Order. Some small part of Antares wanted to believe that it was because they were Slytherins from prestigious families, and that was cause for suspicion, but he knew better. What better way to be one step ahead of your enemies than to be allies instead?
Severus was a glaring example of that. Antares didn't know why, but he was adamant about playing both sides; he had since the first war, according to Remus and Sirius. But to what end? As a Death Eater himself, Severus could live comfortably and silently in a world ruled by Voldemort, and as far as Antares knew, that was what the man had wanted originally.
Thinking back to his conversation with the Potion's Master at the start of the term, Antares supposed Severus lacked the absolute heartlessness it took to be a true Death Eater. Make no mistake, the older Slytherin was a bitter, spiteful person, but to be on the same level as Voldemort or even Bellatrix Lestrange? No chance. He could see it in his eyes — the cold dread of Voldemort winning. Severus was not one of them.
Nor was he, for that matter.
Antares stepped forward, trying to lock eyes with Adrian, who kept them to the floor. The white light from the open windows shone in the corridor, casting heavy shadows around them. Antares didn't stop walking until he was a foot away from his friend. When Adrian said nothing, he wrapped an arm over his shoulder.
"Let's get you a drink, Li."
Adrian didn't protest the use of his nickname.
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In the quiet din of his chambers, Antares poured two glasses of Lichleaf, ignoring Adrian's subtle pout at the drink of choice. Handing over the glass, he watched his friend down it all. Antares took back the glass and poured more gin. Instead of handing it back, he waited.
