In a great dining room, at a table as large and long as the four House tables in Hogwarts, the Princess of Equestria introduced her royal guest to a group of nobles. They were largely apathetic to Silver's presence at first, some of them only pretending to be interested to score points with Celestia.
Then some of them became actually interested when he answered Celestia's prompt of "Is there anything you would like to say about yourself?" by pointing out that some might remember him from that time he trounced his competition at Flight Week, if they attended.
Celestia then introduced him directly to a pony he already knew. Seemingly subtly, though not to either pony involved, she attempted to start a conversation between them. "Silver, this is Riddle Tome, my sister's... advisor."
They had recognised each other right away, of course, but neither had seen fit to speak unprompted. Out loud, anyway. Now that they did have a prompt...
"I thought the newspapers said you're the Court Scholar," were the first words that one of them did speak aloud to the other.
"I thought you would have learned by now that newspapers are often propaganda arms of powerful politicians, if not the government itself."
"I thought you said you're the Court Scholar."
He grinned. "That is indeed my title as far as the public is concerned. Can you guess the reasoning behind that?"
"Um..." said Silver (at the moment) Wing, his horn hidden by Celestia's spell. "You didn't want Equestria to think of you as a fool?"
"Close enough."
"You two know each other?" Celestia asked politely.
They exchanged glances again – Legilimency glances, which they could now use to communicate silently. A useful trick between friendly Legilimens. Mr. Tome had to initiate the exchange; Silver couldn't do it wandlessly just yet. But from there it was like a normal conversation, except with the middle-men of pretended personalities, which is also like a normal conversation. The main difference besides the outward silence and use of magic is that words are thought faster than they can be spoken. Silver was still getting used to that, but it allowed them to reach a decision in less than five seconds.
"You remember that speech I gave after Flight Week?" Silver asked Celestia.
"Hmm... somewhat..."
"I'll make it more specific then. Do you remember how I answered your question about ambitions for the future?"
"Not off the top of my head," said Celestia. "I was... a bit distracted. I might remember if you give a broad outline."
"I changed my voice to quote a scene I saw?"
"Ah yes! Now I remember. Quite clearly. You remarked on the error of being ambitious without having ambition, of grasping upwards to high positions of unimportance, and of how that prevents breaking the boundaries of your own existence... which I now see you have done as well as anypony ever could. You have my deepest congratulations. And compliments."
Silver heard the clatter of silverware on plates – the sign of many unicorns having lost their concentration on their objects of levitation – but he was focused on Celestia. "I wish I could claim all the credit. Remember how I said I was paraphrasing somepony else?"
She nodded. Silver paused at that point, hoping she'd see it on her own, but she didn't look like she was even trying to solve the problem independently.
"That raises the question of who I was paraphrasing. I can't remember, but I'm pretty sure I said that it was my mentor. If I didn't, I'll add that fact as well. Those were mostly the words of my mentor."
She still didn't see it.
Silver sighed. "And now we get back to your original question. How do the two of us know each other?"
That was when she saw it. "He is your mentor?" she asked in a tone that came close to incredulity. "Wait..." Then, after she seemed to take a moment to think, she sighed. "Of course he is."
Mr. Tome was chuckling.
Silver resisted the urge to emote one way or the other. "Like I said, his lessons aren't nice, but they are important."
Then he remembered how Celestia regarded the 'fool' and felt obliged to disagree.
"About what you said before, while I do think he's convincingly wrong about some things, I don't think he's wrong about most things, and certainly not everything." He glanced at Mr. Tome in such a way that indicated he wanted Legilimency. He quickly conveyed that there was a clear example of 'being wrong' that they should talk about later. Then his glance moved back to Celestia, breaking the link. "The two of us might disagree about political answers, but I think we both agree on the problems." He turned to face Mr. Tome fully. "What quote did you say I should refute before we have another debate? Sorry I don't remember it, you squeezed it into a bigger lesson."
"The problem with democracy is that those who need leaders are not qualified to choose them," Mr. Tome answered.
Many nobles around the table seemed to nod in agreement, though Celestia did not.
"Right," said Silver. His Slytherin side noticed the potential oligarchy around him. His Gryffindor and Hufflepuff sides marked it for reform if it turned out to be corrupt. His Ravenclaw part, however, was more concerned with the riddle-equivalent he'd just heard. "If I had to come up with a response off the top of my head, it'd be that even if the statement is true, I certainly don't agree with the solution of unilateral leadership."
"That is not a refutation," observed Mr. Tome.
"Isn't that a good thing?" asked Silver. "Most productive debates start by accepting a few core premises and working out the kinks from there. They end whenever somepony thinks of something neither side had thought before, something that both sides agree about. Or did you have a different debating goal in mind? Because if that's the case, I think I'll pass."
There are many reasons to debate. Politically, debating is done to convince the audience, not the other person. Persuasively, a debate is done to change a target's mind, but not your own. But personally, a good debate will resolve disagreement, negotiate conflicting wills, and allow both sides to reach new understanding.
Politics and suasion are par for the course in Slytherin, and Silver had just now signaled that he wasn't in the mood for either.
Personal debates are more of a Hufflepuff happenstance. It's the sort of thing you'd do with a friend or an equal. 'Good faith' is the term that comes to mind to describe the kind of debate he intended to have with Mr. Tome, and he wasn't going to have any other kind.
The corners of Mr. Tome's lips twitched slightly. "Very well. What is wrong with my solution to the problem of democracy?"
"Dictators don't have accountability," Silver answered at once, "so they can get away with murder. And once the dictator dies, everything they've built goes to chaos and infighting unless a new dictator comes along to fill the power vacuum. But then the whole country gets subjected to a new set of whims. And that's if the dictatorship even works. Most of them don't, for a pretty obvious and pathetic reason that even you can't deny: stupidity."
Mr. Tome sighed.
"Could you please elaborate on that?" asked Celestia, to his and Mr. Tome's slight surprise. "I agree with the point, but I am not familiar with many concrete examples, and you speak as though you could point to many."
"I could, but none that I'd like to talk about in polite company," said Silver. Or pony company, he thought privately. "I will say that in general, a lot of the supposedly well-intentioned failures happened when authoritarian rulers arrogantly believed they knew how to use their country's resources better than the citizenry. Like by telling farmers how they should farm, even though they've never personally farmed a single day in their life. They'd tell the farmers to plant seeds low and pack the soil hard, even though that's the exact opposite of what you should do if you want to actually grow things. That's just one aspect of one real-life industry they got wrong, and it did a lot of damage." Tens of millions of deaths levels of damage. He turned to face Mr. Tome again. "You hit the nail on the head when you said a certain minister was a joke. Maybe the answer to your quote is that we don't need political leaders in the first place. Not for most day-to-day circumstances, anyway."
"Anarchy?" asked Mr. Tome, sounding amused. Before Silver could object- "That was what the original one who spoke that quote desired. I admit that I found myself very surprised at just how convincing he could be, despite the absurd position, though you were not there to hear his arguments. But even back then, I remember thinking to myself that he did not address the most important thing any society must have for survival."
"And that is?" asked Celestia.
"Without clear and coordinated military might, any competent outside threat will easily conquer a country."
"What if most of the citizens can defend themselves?" asked Silver. Like you trained Hogwarts students to be able to do. Like YOU can do.
"Then prospects are less bleak," Mr. Tome nodded concession, "and they might survive attacks that are weak. But individual defense is meaningless in the face of overwhelming, coordinated assault. As you well know. Can you seriously see no scenarios where absolute rule might be good for a country?"
Before the debate could continue, their food arrived.
"On second thought," said Mr. Tome, "I think that is enough for now. We'll continue this later, when we can speak more freely." He grinned at Celestia as a few packets were emptied into his water. "Is there anything you would like to add to that, your majesty?"
The ruler shook her head, frowning ever so slightly at her food as she seemed to consider the debate she'd heard.
Later and earlier and later again, after he and Memory had met up, gone to their hideout, spun the Time Turner five times (saving one turn for emergencies), and trained, Mr. Tome made his presence known.
"We have an hour," the thestral said not two seconds after Memory activated her portkey. "After which you will return to this time and teleport away. I will ensure that no emergencies occur in the next twenty-four hours."
Silver said "Tempus," noted the time, then noted the brief appearance and disappearance of a second Silver to and from the cavern.
He didn't complain about Memory not being here for this. Memory couldn't help because she couldn't understand their perspective. If Silver wanted all but a remnant of Voldemort to be vanquished like the prophecy foretold, he would have to be the one to do it.
For a moment, he mentally prepared himself, summoning all his mental faculties to the fore. This, he was beginning to see, was the real battle.
It's not as simple as waving a wand and casting a spell. It's not as simple as human sacrifice. It would not be the Horcrux spell, or Obliviation, or any other clever trick that would get those two different spirits to coexist in the same world. It's far worse than that. Far more complicated.
The Boy-Who-Lived would have to change Voldemort's mind.
"Before we continue our debate," said the thestral, "what have I been proven wrong about?"
"Dumbledore wasn't behind the sorting hat's prank," Silver answered. "You weren't under the brim, so you didn't have all the context. I've promised not to give anyone the exact context, but I can say that the Sorting Hat was in a unique position to make a prank in my particular case."
"How so?"
The hat borrows the intelligence of the wearer, Silver thought to himself. It became self-aware because I had been wondering if it was, and that self-awareness gave it the potential for humor. That means it was given the potential to make the joke that it made, and I annoyed it enough that it went ahead and DID it.
He was still bound, by promise, by honor, and by his own ethics, not to tell anyone else the specifics unless he could ensure it wouldn't happen again. But he'd finally thought of a roundabout way to get this point across without violating his promise.
"I can't answer that question directly, but long story short, the Sorting Hat can't ordinarily joke. Not when it's on the heads of eleven-year-olds, and probably most adults too. It was only able to do it for me for the same reason that my sorting took so long. It's also the reason the Hat demanded to never go on my head again. The headmaster said I was the fourteenth student in history to achieve that." He couldn't quite keep the pride out of his voice. "Baba Yaga was another, but hers would be for a different reason. My own underlying reason is also why I promised the Hat not to talk about it. Oh, and the Hat was also giving me the victim's perspective to teach me a lesson about the prank I pulled on Neville at King's Cross. I wanted to argue back when you first gave me the hypothesis that Dumbledore changed the Hat's answer, but I wasn't clever enough to do it without betraying my promise, and we also didn't have a way of communicating truthfully. All that iss the truth."
Mr. Tome had listened without changing expression. "You know that I will not believe you without evidence."
Silver nodded. "I do. And I can see why. Your guess about the headmaster is reasonable. It's exactly what any Slytherin would believe if they heard it. When you already have a good answer that fits, it's hard to continue thinking, as you once said. I think the headmaster hypothesis is a rational guess. Even the rational guess, given no other evidence. It's simple and likely, so it gets priority. It just happens to be wrong. That, too, iss true. Oh, and I just thought of this now, but the ssorting hat alsso ssaid wearing it for too long would kill me. That, or ssomething like it, might be a way to kill you desspite your precautionss. Am ssaying thiss to keep promisse that I sshall help your ssysstem of immortality. And if you still don't believe me, now you know how I felt when you told me to beware my ambition without telling me why."
Mr. Tome's expression flickered, his eyes widening for a tiny fraction of a second before settling back into standard disdain. "You think this matter is, to use your terms, on the same order of magnitude as that?"
Silver shook his head. "No. But it is the same sort of problem, even if it's on a smaller scale. You can't deny that the situation is fair. You didn't tell me about the prophecy you heard even though I would have wanted to hear it because you didn't want me to bring it about. I'm not telling you this secret even though you would want to hear it because it would violate my promise. The Sorting Hat would know right away if you wore it afterwards, or told someone else and then they wore it. And not just because you'd remember the secret. Even if you Obliviated yourself of the secret afterwards, you still might tip it off."
Because according to Professor McGonagall, Obliviation removes the memory, but not all the effects of the experience, and the books on Obliviation confirmed the claim. That is why, he suspected, a wizard who knew that Dementors were death would NOT be able to cast the animal patronus EVEN IF they were Obliviated of that explicit knowledge.
"Did you make that promise in Parseltongue?" Mr. Tome asked, his tone a mixture of mocking and disdain.
Silver shook his head. "Like I said, my word is my bond. Even if it's not in Parseltongue." Silver paused thoughtfully. "Although to be perfectly fair, I'll let you have the chance to solve it yourself, since you did the same for me and the prophecy."
"How is that not a violation of your word?"
"Because it wouldn't be me telling you, it would be you figuring it out on your own, and the hat allowed me to talk of it under a certain specific circumstance. That's why my offer comes with a condition. The first thing the Hat said to me was 'Oh dear. This has never happened before.' If you can guesss what that meanss, I sshall tell you the full truth. But only if you promisse to never abusse the knowledge. Otherwisse I sshall not confirm or deny any of your guesssess, except the one I have already denied. And I have not lied thuss far. What I ssaid jusst now iss indeed what the Hat firsst ssaid to me. No trickss."
There was a pause.
"Very well. I sshall not usse knowledge about your ssorting to endss you or the Hat would conssider ill, if you confirm my guesssed knowledge iss accurate. But you should know that all this does not count as proving me wrong. Were there any other mistakes you could prove as such?"
"Yes, but before that I wanted to finish our debate. Your other mistake might be easier to see if we can reach an agreement on politics." He'd thought about it, and... "To answer the last question you asked at dinner, I can only think of one scenario where I would approve of dictatorship. Have you ever heard of Cincinnatus?"
"Yes. Many scholars of history know the tale."
"Is the wizarding version different from the muggle one?"
The thestral shook his head. "Most true details have been lost to time on both sides, and the rest is likely embellished. Still, Lucius Quinctius. The man twice given supreme state power, who twice relinquished it. He ruled not a moment longer than absolutely necessary, retiring to his villa after each crisis was averted. He swiftly dealt with each emergency, then just as swiftly relinquished all state powers he had been given. He became a temporary dictator each time, and he easily could have extended his rule. He chose not to do so, and so he was regarded as an ideal hero by the Romans. You should note that he is often depicted as holding a bundle of rods surrounding an axe. Your historical ignorance annoyed me in our very first political debate. It was not the Italian Fascists who first invented the symbol of the fasces. It predates even the Romans, and it does not quite mean strength from unity. But I digress. Even you cannot deny the problem with that solution, Mr. Silver. Reliance on such individuals to come forth at the moment of crisis inevitably leads to ruin. You may as well rely upon lightning striking your enemy."
"By the same reasoning, shouldn't you not rely on them for long-term dictatorships either? Relying on them to get it right, over and over, is like relying on repeated lightning strikes. You said you read Mao's red book. Did you know-"
"Yes, I know of the starvation and the body count. Yes, I agree that he was an idiot about farming, and the communes only made it worse. I did not read his little book as a guide for governance, only as a template for takeover." Mr. Tome closed his eyes, looking frustrated. "And yes, I know how you are going to straw man my position. You think I believe dictatorship is not a problem because we simply have not found the right dictator yet, aside from myself."
"I think I would have phrased it differently. Your position sounds to my ears like we just need the right person to wear the Ring of Power. Though you may not get the reference."
The thestral shrugged. "I agree that it sounds stupid when put that way. But you see, Mr. Silver, we already have working examples, so the argument falls apart on its premises. Your belief that dictatorships don't ever succeed is mistaken as a matter of simple fact. They do work. Even in the long term. Here in Equestria, Princess Celestia has ruled successfully for a thousand years. In Magical Britain, there was Dumbledore. They are both dictators in everything but name. They have led armies of defense against outside forces, armies of offense against internal forces. Without them, their countries would have fallen, or been greatly weakened. If you wish for a muggle example, Hitler led his destitute country to prosperity and strength in fewer than fifteen years. His loss in the Second World War was not a foregone conclusion at the time. He might have won, had he not made so many enemies. It is highly questionable to suggest that any other man could have accomplished as much as he, regardless of the end result."
"You're seriously arguing that Hitler was good for Germany?"
"In the short term? Absolutely. You may fail to see his successes because of his reputation, but you cannot deny the might he inspired in the Germans. Imagine if he had the philosophy of Cincinnatus. Imagine how history might have played out if he relinquished all power as soon as the economy stabilised."
Silver paused.
That... well, it was Hitler, but if he did have that outlook... if he'd relinquished all power as soon as Germany was out of the hole that had been dug for them by the Treaty of Versailles...
"No," answered Silver. "The economy had already stabilised before his rise. The Weimar Republic got their economic act together around a decade before then. If you're talking about the Great Depression, the whole world suffered that. Germany's iteration might look unstable compared to their recovery, but everything looks unstable compared to war economies. And I don't think Hitler would have ever pulled a Cincinnatus. He was only able to amass the power he did because he was an expansionist warmonger. Not to mention his party relied on propaganda that called for final solutions, not temporary measures."
There's an old saying that what you need to start a cult – or a religion, for that matter – isn't a god, but a devil. Resentment is one of the most powerful long-term motivators out there. Many people were moved not by love of Germany, but by hatred against certain specific German citizens: the Jews, the Roma, the Slavs. The Nazis rose to power with the Jews as their devil and the rest of the 'untermensch' as demons.
"He didn't inspire his country with the sort of motivation that leads to long-term stability. He relied on extermination tactics, inside and outside. He aimed at an unachievable ambition, the 'Arian' ideal. It's the same thing as pureblood politics. At some point, no blood will be pure enough. You just have to keep making the definition more and more narrow until nobody qualifies. So it wasn't viable long-term, and it wasn't likely to be abandoned after it started. The idea that Hitler would just give that up like Cincinnatus gave up his power is absurd on its face. Hitler didn't rise to power to solve a simple, one-time emergency like an insurrection or an invasion the way Cincinnatus did. He rose to power to solve the complex, long-term problem of Germany being in a sorry state after the first world war. He relied on constant political maneuvering and power-grabbing to climb the ranks. He wanted war. He fueled economic recovery and growth by stoking resentment against his own citizenry. He never intended to stop expanding Germany's borders, and he didn't intend to stop after the war reparations had been handled either. Hitler was never going to give up power in the first place."
Mr. Tome nodded. "And now you see why the Cincinnatus solution cannot work for most real-world problems. In our own imminent crisis, I do not think a single Cincinnatus-like figure will suffice to stop the muggles. Not I, nor you, nor the headmaster, nor as a distant fourth, the man who shares Cincinnatus' first name. A nuclear onslaught will not be stopped without extensive preparation and swift preemptive strikes, and even then we might fail. No brief dictatorship will suffice."
Silver's face twisted. "But that's the thing. Your mistaken premise is that you think the muggles will launch nukes the instant they discover us."
"They will."
"No, they won't," Silver said with all the firmness of his dark side. "Individual muggles might get violent, but governments will hesitate. Especially rich ones. Especially Britain. They'll only attack if they see us – their own countrymen – as enemies. And then they'd have to bomb their own country too, and that means surrounding areas would have to suffer the radioactive fallout. They won't do that on their own soil unless wizards launch the first attack. Or if derision and division are deliberately deepened beforehand." Silver's eyes narrowed. "By, say, promoting blood purism and magical supremacy in the rich and powerful."
"At least that would cleanly segue into national defense. What is your approach? Friendship and harmony?" His tone clearly indicated what he thought of that position.
"Not quite. I would call it trade and allyship. A few important muggles already have cushy arrangements with the ICW, I'd wager. Using that as a starting point, there will probably be multiple muggle governments that offer high status and wealth and acceptance in exchange for magical services and products."
Mr. Tome snorted, though it was more of a hmph than a nasal noise. "More likely, muggle governments shall force their magical counterparts into that arrangement. I have no doubt the Chinese Communist Party will regard the wizards and witches within its purview as national resources to be treasured and enslaved." He grinned, then spoke with heavy sarcasm. "For the good of the people, of course."
"Which is why," Silver said, un-gritting his teeth, "if we promote the idea of peaceful integration in Britain, where slavery is firmly rejected because of our enlightenment roots, we might just see peace. I don't think Labour or the Conservatives would want a civil war. I don't think the Americans would want another civil war either. Same with Australia, Canada, New Zealand, and most of Western Europe."
"It is hardly a matter of what individual muggles or wizards want, Mr. Silver. The problem of politics is the problem of paranoid politicians perceiving threats, followed by war. Wizards are too ignorant to see muggles as dangerous. Muggles, however, would take little convincing, especially with their mass media."
"I agree," said Silver. "The muggle media could do that. But you know, maybe you should have thought of that before you pushed the belief that wizards can do whatever they want to muggles whenever they feel like it, just because they can."
"That attitude was hardly nonexistent prior to my political endeavours." Mr. Tome spoke as if he were entirely blameless. "The laws on the books have always encouraged it."
"And once again, you didn't try to change it for the better. You didn't even see anything wrong with making it worse. And before you say that it can't be improved, remember the Dragon General. And my Chaotic Lieutenant."
Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott. Both had begun the school year as nobles who believed it was right and proper that they should get away with rape and murder. Both had gotten to the point where they were no longer nearly that bad.
"Two exceptions do not prove a rule."
"But they do prove a possibility. And the potential for a trend." Silver was reluctant to say this, but... "The problem isn't even unworkable from your belief system," he pointed out. "From your own way of handling problems – and this is in no way an endorsement, or a suggestion that you actually do it – I could easily see you tracking down the worst of the worst and cutting out the weeds at their roots."
"And weaken the country in the cutting?" the thestral asked flatly. "Many such wizards and witches are powerful. Magically, politically, and financially. Or all three. I would hardly commit the folly of killing them all."
"I said that you could do it, not that you would. But my point is that laws can be changed. People can be changed. Countries can be changed. For the worse or the better. And you don't even have to kill to do it. I bet you changed plenty of your Death Eaters as you saw fit. And you already saw me do it with the Chaos Legion, making them smarter, not just stronger. Part of why I didn't perform at the level you expected from the start of the school year was that I was busy changing mindsets and improving my soldiers. Do you disagree that I accomplished that goal?"
"Where are you going with this, Mr. Silver?"
"Back to my original point," he answered. "I think Magical Britain can change for the better in time, to the point where muggle Britain won't see it as an enemy when the statute breaks down and they learn about our laws. Because by then we'll have changed them. Both sides would be willing to put up with inconveniences to avoid frivolous conflict. Fostering internal resentment and letting it fester might make people want a civil war, but the reverse is true too. Promote a desire for peace and prosperity, or if not that, trade and advancement, and people would want cooperation."
Mr. Tome gazed at him steadily. "If you wish to encourage that outcome, you may do so in your own spare time. I will continue to focus on strength and defense."
Silver opened his mouth to continue the debate, then paused. "Come to think of it, maybe that's exactly what you should be doing. I only ask you don't use fear or resentment or hatred anymore. If you avoid that, I'll promise not to get in the way of your efforts. I'll even throw in my support as the Boy-Who-Lived. But only if you promise to abide by that guideline. I want a strong country too, but I don't want a magical Reich. No loyalty to a glorious leader. No hatred for muggleborns. You said it yourself, it was a political agenda of naked personal ambition."
"Initially," said Mr. Tome. "Eventually, it became more coherent."
"And that's exactly the problem." Silver expelled an exhale, exacerbated. "It's the main reason why Slytherin House has been on the decline. It wasn't just the headmaster's sabotage."
"Hold," said Mr. Tome, raising a hoof. He closed his eyes in thought.
Silver waited patiently. He had meant to hold off on this point until later, but it had come out in the heat of the moment.
After an indeterminate amount of time had passed, the thestral spoke. "I think I want that last part explained. I might be able to guess, but I would hear it in your own words."
"Firsst," said Silver, switching to Parseltongue, "you musst not repeat thiss unlesss I give you leave, or unlesss you think, in your besst judgement, that I would wissh you to ssay it."
"You have my agreement. Sshall sstay between uss for now, until your interesst demandss I sspeak it elssewhere without your prior conssent."
And Silver spoke about the pattern of patheticness he'd seen in Slytherin. He spoke of how he predicted it in advance just from hearing Draco speak at King's Cross. He knew the Dark Lord's political agenda would have resulted in loser people whose hatred for muggleborns is all they have. Those weaklings blame muggleborns instead of themselves for everything wrong in their lives, and that makes them even weaker. Then their children join Slytherin, and that makes Slytherin itself weaker. And then they grow up, have children of their own, and it gets even worse. With the exception of a few insulated nobles, most children will avoid Slytherin because they can see what's there, and that accelerates the issue.
Silver almost didn't bring up the Patronus Charm. He suspected Mr. Tome wouldn't be convinced by certain aspects of that argument. But he at least pointed out the problem of only two Slytherins in the entire school showing up to learn such a rare, powerful, and useful charm.
Silver then closed in on the most important argument.
He spoke of how he hadn't been automatically convinced by Mr. Tome's theory of "Dumbledore is using Snape to sabotage Slytherin House" because the problem went deeper than that. The headmaster didn't create the happenstance of hatred in Slytherin. At worst, he seized an already-existing opportunity created by Voldemort's political agenda.
Most children instinctively avoid hatred, especially the ones intelligent enough to observe it explicitly, to say nothing of parental influence that would bias them against Slytherin before they set foot in Hogwarts. No head of house would be able to undo that.
It may have been exacerbated by Snape, and yes, that might have been by Dumbledore's design. But the initial blame didn't belong at the headmaster's feet. Even Snape believes Dumbledore tried to help Slytherin before giving in to the inevitable.
Throughout his lecture, Silver made sure to regularly use Parseltongue to prove he spoke truthfully.
By the end, Mr. Tome's eyes were abstraction and contemplation.
"I do not say this often," the thestral said slowly, though not reluctantly. In fact, he sounded slightly appreciative. "But I think I have been proven... not to be wrong, but to be not fully correct. Responsibility for that particular occurrence does lie with me, and I did not see it until now."
Silver had to resist the temptation to cheer aloud, though that was easily done with Perfect Occlumency. "Does that mean you'll agree to try and improve attitudes in the powerful and elite?"
Mr. Tome's ever-present frown became slightly deeper. "I shall have to think about this privately. I will make no promises until I have. In the meantime, I suggest you plot out any ideas that might make your plans more manageable on the muggle end. I used my mark to force my old underlings to change their behaviours as I saw fit, and I might be able to do the same for all of Magical Britain, even without a mark. But I cannot force all of muggle Britain to change, and you have a better understanding of their society than I."
"I already have a plot in mind, actually." Which he hadn't planned to mention until Mr. Tome seemed potentially amenable.
"Along what lines?"
Silver took a deep breath. "I was thinking maybe we could tell a story about our magical society to the muggle world. Maybe as a movie, maybe as a book. The wizarding world provides a great setting, and the muggles would all see it as fiction, so it wouldn't violate the statute. Good world-building is hard to do, but easy in our case, and if the story itself is good, it should see success."
"What would that accomplish, other than a template of our abilities and society that their military could reference later?"
"It'd show that we're human? That we're people just like them? We could always write different names for spells, and obscure what we can actually do, or something like that, to keep the advantage of surprise. But the point is that if we write the story right, the readers won't even notice the underlying message. They'll just think it's another fictional world. They'll empathise with the protagonist like they're supposed to, and that should be enough."
"You believe a mere story would be enough to prevent a world war?"
"If the story becomes a cultural phenomenon like the Lord of the Rings? Sure."
Mr. Tome's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.
"I'm not saying we should lay all our eggs in this basket," Silver said defensively. "We'll probably be running a bunch of different plots when we get back. All I can say for now is that the statute of secrecy can't last forever, and we should shoot for a soft landing in as many ways as possible. If muggles know about us in advance, even if they just think it's fictional, familiarity will make them less fearful. The smarter ones will be worried about the power balance when the truth comes out no matter what, but they wouldn't be terrified like if some truly alien species came knocking, or if they were completely ignorant about their potential enemy."
"You truly believe that we would see no instances of repeated behaviour from the last time muggles discovered us?"
"Witch burning is universally seen as a horrible part of our past by modern muggles," said Silver. "Thanks largely to a popular American play from the fifties. They'll at least hesitate to go anywhere close to those extremes this time around. Thiss iss true. Assk any educated muggle when we return."
"Hmm... I did not know that. Out of curiosity, supposing I did go along with it, how do you intend to guarantee this plot's success?"
"The Hufflepuff way would be to make the story great enough to stand on its own merits. The Slytherin way would be to persuade people to buy it. The smart way is to do both. Make it great, then make the marketing just as good."
Salesmen get a bad rep because they can sell any product, even bad ones. Even things nobody wants. They can sell ice in a snowstorm and manure in a sewer. But most people appreciate the salesman who introduces them to a genuinely good product.
"With magic, we might not even need traditional advertisement. Compulsion charms, undetectable affinity enchantments, the want-it-need-it spell on this side of the mirror if we tone it down a little. I don't personally endorse their use, but I know you would have thought of them eventually, if not right away, so instead I'll register my opinion that we shouldn't use them."
"Such charms are banned by the ICW in the context of sales," said Mr. Tome. Then he grinned. "But only against fellow wizards and witches. I think this plot has some merit after all. But as you said, it shall by no means be our only one. I've even thought of a few myself, based on your suggestion. But I think we should let this matter bide for now. I must re-examine my own view of Slytherin's recent exploits, given your fresh perspective, before coming to any conclusions. Was there anything else?"
Silver shook his head. There was something else, but he shouldn't bring it up now.
Mr. Tome disappeared from the cavern.
Now Silver let out a cheer.
Silver cast Tempus, noted down how much time until he'd need to spin back, and went back to practicing. He decided to focus on his transfiguration practice – specifically, using his wand to transfigure a life-doll of his pony self into the form of his human self, then resetting the transfiguration and doing it again.
Silver and Memory's own human-magus potions were almost ready, meaning meditation day wouldn't be far off, and this practice would help that process go faster. Mr. Tome would be overseeing everything for safety, and he'd be observing both meditations simultaneously for Time efficiency. They'd be drinking the potion at the same time, but for reasons entirely unrelated to Silver's competitive nature, it would be best if he beat Memory to the finish line of the meditation.
So he practiced.