He had the weekend, thankfully, to fully settle in. It helped that the Slytherins during their weekends did much the same things that Gryffindors did, including chess and Exploding Snap. That, and essays. Slytherins, it seemed, had a much higher sense of priority than Gryffindors and they really, really, liked to schedule. Saturday had been spent in the library, something which even Rosier had consented to.

Sunday was quite different. It was a whole day of lazing around and playing games. Harry even went flying again, though this time it was not by himself. Rosier joined him and, surprisingly, so too did Avery. Despite his Crabbe-and-Goyle-like talk, Avery was a good flyer.

By Monday Harry had managed to get back to a decent sense of normality. So, when he saw Silas and Jeremy outside the History classroom that morning, he did not even feel his heart beat. Really.

Instead, Harry focused all his attention on Rosier, whom he was talking to at the time. He pretended not to see Silas and Jeremy narrow their eyes as he ignored them, walking past the two sentinels as if he did not know exactly why they were standing outside.

He felt a tug on his sleeve, forcing him to stop just after the doorway. He turned around. It was Silas, and his eyes were cold. Rosier also paused, raising a brow. Silas pulled Harry close so that the green eyed boy could feel Silas's ragged breath on his face. Harry froze, unable to help his reaction.

"Tonight," Silas said tightly, his voice barely a whisper. "Sixth floor, left corridor."

Then, just like that, he let go and he and Jeremy walked off briskly, brushing past the two Slytherins and taking their seats behind Chris and Brandon. Immediately Chris leant backwards on his chair, his eyebrows furrowed as he furiously questioned the two about what they had said.

Rosier cocked his head, glancing at Harry, "What was that?"

It was obvious he didn't hear. Silas had not meant for him to, probably. Question was, should Harry tell Rosier?

Harry's mouth was dry. "He was mad about what I did to the mudblood."

Rosier snorted in amusement, turning away. "I see. Well then, nothing to worry about. Let's go find a seat, Evans."

They sat behind two Slytherin girls whom Harry didn't quite care enough to think of their names. Their ghostly teacher droned on, prompting the students to take out their books from other classes and start working on them. Methodically Harry followed them, but his mind was not in it.

Harry clenched and unclenched his fists, wondering if he should consent to the two's request. He did not need to, and if anyone saw him meeting Gryffindors all his efforts in Slytherin would be washed away. And yet.

That evening Harry begged off, giving some vague excuse about wanting to explore the castle. It sounded suspicious even to his own ears, but thankfully after some assurances that the others could come find him if he didn't return in an hour, Harry was finally allowed to go. He walked around the corner and started briskly towards the meeting place Silas and Jeremy had assigned.

He found the two on the sixth floor corridor, and it was just them. The two jumped about half an inch, wands pointed towards him.

Harry managed a weak smile, "Good reflexes."

They did not return the gesture. Jeremy pocketed his wand again. Silas did not.

"You suppose it's funny, don't you?" The blond snarled, his face a tight mask of fury. "You dirty, rotten—"

"Silas," Jeremy said warningly, interrupting the blond. "Don't make Brandon and I regret letting you come instead of him. We are here to talk, not fight."

Silas grunted and let his arm fall back to his side. He still did not put back his wand however.

"So," Jeremy turned back to Harry, a smile ready on his face. "You must be wondering why we called you all the way here, Evans."

Unlike Silas, Jeremy's face was cheerful, but Harry could see it for what it truly was. Harry had seen Jeremy's easy laugh and this was not it. This smile was too tight at the corners, too stretched on Jeremy's tanned face. Behind this smile there was anger and sadness, warning and caution.

Harry nodded mutely in reply to Jeremy's question.

"Well then, first things first," Jeremy continued with that forced smile of his. "We want you to understand that we… well, understand. No hard feelings. We get it, you're in Slytherin, you can't associate with blood traitors." There was a derisive sneer to those words, as if Jeremy thought it was the most idiotic thing in the world. "We get it. It'd make it difficult for you in your dorms, right?"

"And of course you shouldn't have to face any difficulty with your House," Silas continued sarcastically. "No, it's much better for your health if you betray your former friends, people who would have been more than glad to help you. No, of course you shouldn't have to fight for your beliefs, of course you should use any means possible for you to stay in your Housemate's good graces. Of course!"

What they truly meant to say rang clearly in the air, even if they did not give voice to it.

You are a coward. You chose the easy way out.

The words were a punch in the gut.

It wasn't true, he thought dully, they didn't understand. But to them it would amount to the same thing and unless he was willing to explain, he couldn't fault them for the conclusions they had drawn. He had made his decision and he was willing to bear the consequences.

"You are not a bad person," Jeremy said softly when Harry could say nothing. "We know that. You did not hate Chris on the train, in fact I don't think I am out of line to say that you liked him very much. But we—I cannot forgive you for what you did to Chris on Friday. We'll let you go this time Harry, because, like I said, we understand. But if there is ever a second time… Evans, you will find that Gryffindors do not abandon their friends."

There was something fierce about Jeremy's last statement, strong and willful, like a lion protecting its cubs. Harry detachedly noted that Jeremy would make a good father someday.

"Of course," a cracked voice replied, and Harry noted with some surprise that it was his own. "I will keep that in mind."

"And one last thing," Silas spat hatefully, "When they betray you—because oh yes, you have confirmed to me that Slytherins are traitors, so rest assured that they will betray you—when they betray you, don't come running back to us. You've missed your chance with us."

Then Silas stomped away. This time, Jeremy did nothing to contradict him.

The two left Harry in the empty corridor, his gut churning and his body shaking.

Harry didn't sleep well that night.

He tossed and turned, going over the events since he had arrived at Hogwarts in every angle in his mind. Was there a way that things could have turned out differently? Was there a way he could have impressed the Slytherins without alienating the Gryffindors?

When he awoke, sore and tired on Tuesday, Harry decided that no, there was nothing he could have done. Silas and Jeremy's warning wasn't something that he didn't already know after all, even if it was a shock hearing it from the two of them. He could at least take it into his heart that they cared, and that thought warmed him.

By Wednesday Harry had completely gotten over it. He had made his decision and had worked through his doubts. When Harry had Transfiguration he actually stayed after class and thanked Dumbledore, telling him that Harry's problem had been solved. Dumbledore looked surprised, but warmly congratulated him, leaving Harry with a sense of euphoria when he went to lunch. Also at lunch time, for the first time since school started, Riddle didn't show up. Harry had been about to ask for his whereabouts when he noted that Flavian wasn't there either. He hesitated, then decided it might be wiser not to remark on it. When Potions rolled around the fifth year Slytherins all headed to the dungeons, sans Riddle and the redhead. As he had done previously, Yaxley went to find that Slytherin girl, leaving Harry with Rosier. Riddle was, oddly, still not there. But Flavian was.

"Rosier," Flavian smiled, walking up to them when the duo entered the potions classroom. It seemed that he had arrived there first. "We haven't worked with each other in ages. How about we partner in Potions for today?"

Harry stared at the boy.

Rosier, on the other hand, threw back his head and laughed. Flavian stiffened but Rosier didn't seem to notice. He was still chuckling. "Well, isn't this interesting? Of course Flavy-deary, let's go find a work table then. Evans, terribly sorry, but my dear old friend here just needs my presence, you know?"

Flavian's smile had frozen on his face. "Rosier. Please stop it with the ridiculous nicknames."

Rosier tsked in disappointment and dragged the red haired boy to a table near the back, instantly beginning to set up their things. Harry was left standing in the middle of the Potions classroom, not quite sure what was going on.

Just then, Riddle came into the room. He glanced at Harry and smiled. Then he gestured for the transfer student to come closer. Curious, Harry did so.

"It looks as if we've both been left by our potions partners, doesn't it?" Riddle murmured amusedly, his voice barely audible. "Well then, would you like to partner with me?"

Harry blinked in surprise. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't that. Was it fate? He couldn't believe that he had been sent such a perfect chance to get closer to Riddle. It was a good decision to act the part of a Potions prodigy—Riddle probably wouldn't have asked him otherwise. Smiling, Harry agreed.

Slughorn came in and the class quickly scrambled to get out their tools. The chalk flew up to the board and quickly started writing out instructions. Riddle and Harry glanced at each other and with a nod of acknowledgement, Harry quickly got up and went to get the ingredients from the potions cupboard. He knew that the future Lord Voldemort wouldn't want to.

He came back with an armful of ingredients and the two quickly stared on the first phase of the potion: chopping. The two Slytherins chopped in silence and Harry couldn't help his mind wandering. Really, he couldn't.

Harry glanced over at Flavian and Rosier, a small frown making its way up his face. As far as he knew they weren't such good friends, and it didn't look like they were discussing damming secrets. He wondered why Flavian had sought Rosier specifically, and in a class where whatever they said could be overheard too…

Oh. Hold on.

Don't tell me Riddle purposefully—

Harry whirled back to Riddle who was still nonchalantly cutting his newts tails.

Shit. He was so screwed.

He felt like he was going to hyperventilate. Sure, they were just cutting ingredients now, but they wouldn't be forever. Soon they were going to get to the actual potions aspect and Harry had no doubt in his mind that he had to pull off a spectacular performance. Or else.

He took a breath and assured himself that it would be alright. He could do it. All he had to do was follow the Half Blood Prince's instructions. Yeah, that was right. It would be OK.

He did just that.

When it was time for the brewing, Harry remembered a useful bit about stirring counter-clockwise right after adding in astropical.

"Hm," Riddle made a noise of contemplation, "And why is that?"

Harry froze. His mouth was dry. "W-why?"

"Yes," Riddle said, "I am curious. You say that stirring counter-clockwise three times before stirring clockwise will help with the effect of the potion, but why? Does it even the clastic texture, does it lighten the colour? And if so, why?"

Harry had forgotten that Riddle was something of a scholar. It was all too easy to forget, watching his wide-eyed admittances to teachers, then equally cold words to students. It was too easy to think of Riddle as just the master manipulator, to forget that he was more than that. He was also a master of spells, a long-time visitor of books, and of course he would want to know how some random student had seen a solution that Riddle himself had not glimpsed.

Harry had to be stupid to have forgotten that.

"Well," Harry began, his mind working furiously to think of a good response. He couldn't. Not a believable one. Harry floundered for a moment, but thankfully it was at that moment that Slughorn decided to pay their table a visit.

"My boys! My boys!" The walrus-like man boomed, greeting them happily as he came to a stop at their table. His smile was stretched so wide that it appeared to split his face in half, and his little beady black eyes were gleaming brightly. "Ah, nice to see two of my favourite boys working together. With the two of you working together, this table will create the best potion, I suspect."

Riddle's eyes flashed in annoyance, but when he turned to face Slughorn all that was present in his expression was a sort of modest awe. "Sir, I think it would be too early to presume such things. Although I must say, with a prodigy such as Mr. Evans to help me, I wouldn't be so surprised if we do end up making the best potion."

Harry almost marveled at how quickly and how completely Riddle had changed his countenance, but the thought of the fact that he had to be expected to do the same if he ever hoped to trick Riddle spoiled the wonder for him. That, and the fact that this was the future Voldemort he was admiring.

Slughorn waved a hand, "So modest, so modest. Mr. Riddle, do not pretend that you have nothing to do with the quality of this potion that is being brewed. You are, after all, still my best student." Slughorn turned to Harry with a wink. "Rest assured Mr. Evans, with a guide like Mr. Riddle, you can't go wrong."

When Slughorn finally left, Harry was a mess of nerves. He had tried his best to keep the teacher there, but even Slughorn had seen that if he kept too much of their time, their potion would suffer. Indeed, they only had twenty minutes left of class.

"Well," Riddle said, glancing at the clock, "If it were anyone else, I wouldn't be so sure we could finish our assignment on time. Well, let's get working then. Toss in the aspagot, unless you have another suggestion?"

There was a certain sound of amusement present in the last sentence that had Harry gulping. He did put in the aspagot, as well as a few other ingredients. Riddle brewed. Throughout the whole time, Harry kept expecting Riddle to continue his line of questioning. He was so distracted that he almost made a Neville Longbottom mistake, and it was only Riddle's hiss of warning that stopped him from tossing in the explosive component. After that, he decided to concentrate on actually making the potion; it wouldn't do to mess up a simple brew when trying to hide the fact that he was a fake potions prodigy.

When Potions was over, Harry practically ran for it. He didn't give Riddle a chance to talk to him, only uttering a quick goodbye before he was out the door.

As soon as Harry turned the corner and couldn't be seen anymore, he raced for the library. He arrived breathless and panting, earning an odd stare from the librarian. He smiled at her weakly and with a shrug, she turned back to her work.

Harry leant against the doorframe, allowing himself a moment to catch his breath, and then walked briskly towards the potions section. Hurriedly he flipped through the titles, anxious to find a book that would answer Riddle's question. It was only after many minutes had passed that he slowed, realizing that such a frenzied search would neither be helpful to him nor anyone.

He took a deep breath and started looking through the section more thoroughly. He needed… all of them, really. He'd never been good at Potions and he needed to become a master overnight. It was best to start from scratch.

Harry inwardly groaned at the prospect of reading all the books, but the prospect of Riddle finding out soon pushed out that dread. He didn't have time to dread, he needed to learn! His finger was steady on a grade one theory potions book, ready to displace it from its position on the bookshelf, when suddenly he paused.

Who would believe that Harry Evans, the potions prodigy, needed a grade one theory book? One would only have to see Harry with the book or ask the librarian, and Harry's gig was up. His finger hovered over the spine as Harry hesitated.

But… but Harry needed that book. He stunk at theory, no matter what suggestions the Half-Blood Prince had made. And even Harry knew that things only snowballed if you left them. If he started reading the advanced potions books without first reading the basics, his chances of understanding the material would go from slim to zero. If he wanted to be the least bit knowledgeable, he needed to learn from scratch.

Harry closed his eyes, dread curling up in his stomach. He should have thought of all this before he went ahead and opened his big mouth about potions.

And now, and now he was stuck between confessing that he knew naught about potions, or risking borrowing the books and—

Hold up.

Borrowing the books.

A Cheshire grin spread across Harry's face. His right hand reached into his pocket, pulling out his wand. Sharp green eyes flicked left and right and, finding no one, the owner of the eyes raised a hand. He moved his wand in flowery motions, muttering an incantation under his breath. He had never thought this particular spell of Hermione's would be useful to him.

Spell done, he tapped the side of his bag with his wand, and the magic washed over it. He couldn't help but smile when it was done.

Hermione had for some reason taught him a spell that let him take out library books without setting off the alarm. Harry hadn't thought he would need to learn it, but she had insisted upon it. Now he couldn't be more glad that she did.

He would dump all the beginner potions books in his bag, and take them out of the library without anyone the wiser. He would check out the more advanced potions books the regulated way, in order to keep his status as a prodigy and to have a ready excuse if someone found him reading a potions book.

He allowed himself to preen for a moment at his idea and then got to work. He alternatively dumped books in his bag and piled books on the floor beside him, making the stack of things he was borrowing larger and larger.

He had just been taking out Potions Theory Made Easy when—

"Doing something suspicious, are we?"

Harry jumped about the foot in the air, almost dropping the book as he spun around to face the newcomer.

It was Flavian, his face amused.

Harry calmed his speeding heart. He tried his best to look unconcerned, "I heard that Slytherins are always doing something suspicious. Just wanted to fit the stereotype, that's all."

"Ah," Flavian nodded, and then his eyes slid over to the book in Harry's hands. Harry forced himself not to tense. "Potions Theory Made Easy, huh? I would have thought that you of all people wouldn't need such a book."

Harry gave the spine a look of surprise before putting the book back on the shelf, "How embarrassing, I must have read the title wrong."

"Of course." Thankfully, Flavian seemed to have taken it for a fact. "Anyway Evans, I actually came to find you. We didn't see you at dinner, see, and we were getting worried."

"Really?" Harry glanced around, looking for a clock. He could see none from his position. He must have lost track of time in his frantic search for potions books.

"It's understandable," Flavian said smoothly, "considering where you were. You can't see the clock from here, can you? Well Evans, if you are hungry, you should go to the floor above the Great Hall. From there you will see a large painting of a pear. If you tickle it, it'll take you to the kitchens of Hogwarts and you could probably get some food there."

"Really?" Harry knew that of course, but nobody knew that Harry knew that. Now Flavian had given him a perfect excuse. Harry smiled, sincerely. "Thanks a lot. Even though we haven't… talked to each other much, you've really helped me."

At those words, Flavian's eyes sharpened. He took a step forward, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper. "Evans, about that. Just because… just because Rosier and Yaxley act friendly, doesn't mean that they are."

"Wh-what?" Harry was taken aback by the sudden change in topics. Weren't they just talking about the kitchen? "What do you mean?"

"Be careful," Flavian's eyes were dark. "Remember that nothing in Slytherin is done without ulterior motives."

Harry stiffened, finally realizing what this was all about. He had received plenty of warnings like this in the past, all based on his status as the Boy Who Lived. He did not take kindly to it. "What? You mean like you then? Why exactly are you warning me about this then, if you are a Slytherin?"

Flavian turned away, his shoulders shaking. Harry floundered for a minute, not knowing what was going on anymore, when suddenly he realized that Flavian was laughing. At him. Harry started to see red.

"Yes, it's true," Flavian finally said, turning back to look at Harry with a look of superior amusement in his eyes, "I do have a motive for telling you. But that does not mean that what I tell you is not true."

"I'll decide for myself what's true and what's not, thanks," Harry replied stiffly, bending down to pick up his book.

Flavian's amusement disappeared, leaving behind an ugly face full of frustration. "You. Are an idiot. Are you relying on friendship? You should have been Hufflepuff, not Slytherin. Make no mistake Evans, Rosier and Yaxley are not seeking you solely for your company."

"Then what are they seeking me for?"

Flavian gritted his teeth, "You ask it so blatantly?"

"Yes," Harry said bluntly, "I reflect whom I speak to."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. It was such a Gryffindor thing to say and it would definitely mark him out as different. And yet he would say it all over again. Harry didn't take slack from anyone; he may obey the rules but he would never take any insults. Besides, he was sick and tired of all this dancing around. Trying to not lag behind Riddle had already taken up most of his brain power and he had none left over for dealing with Flavian.

Something flashed in Flavian's eyes. His voice calmed. "I see. It is a shame that it is like this. I would have felt better if you were at least intelligent. I will at least be assured then, that this cannot be easy for Rosier and Yaxley. One last thing before you go Evans; Rosier and Yaxley were never close, not before you came. You don't have to take my word on it, ask anyone."

With those parting words, Flavian turned his heel and stalked out of the section. He met up with a Slytherin girl who had just turned the corner, presumably having been hiding behind the bookshelf where Harry and Flavian had their argument.

"You were a bit heavy handed," the Slytherin girl murmured, her voice soft as the pair walked away. Harry only heard her because he had trained his ears to hear the smallest of sounds during the war.

"Perhaps," Flavian's words were fading, "But Rosier and Yaxley's actions were equally as transparent. Just not to the Transfer, apparently."

They left Harry standing there, potions books in one hand, school bag in the other, and as confused as hell.