Draco was ecstatic when, Friday morning after their nearly house-wide dawn run, news of four Gryffindors being caught out after curfew trickled through the Slytherin ranks.

Draco had bragged to anyone who would listen in their common room the night before of his scheme, so now all of the older Slytherins new exactly who was responsible for Gryffindor losing 120 house points literally overnight.

Marcus gave Draco a rough congratulatory slap on the back as he walked past, nearly toppling Draco into his porridge. Draco beamed with pride, and snagged a piece of bacon off of the serving tray as a reward to his own ingenuity. He had been hoping that Weasley would be expelled, but this was a win he was more than happy to accept, and take every last ounce of credit for, while he was at it.

Harry plonked down next to Draco, looking glum. "Did you hear?"

Draco knocked his shoulder against Harry's. "Of course, I heard! 120 points! That's got to be nearly a record. Why aren't you happy?"

Harry frowned at his empty plate. "Longbottom was one of the kids who got caught."

"Really?! That's unexpected."

"He got locked out of their common room, and tagged along because he didn't know what else to do. Now he's in serious trouble, because of us."

"Who else? I'm assuming Weasley and Finnigan, but who was the fourth? Thomas?"

Harry shook his head, still looking stubbornly guilty. "Granger."

Draco laughed, loud and sharp. "Why the hel was Granger there?"

"I didn't ask. Probably reciting the school rules at them. What are we going to do about Longbottom?"

"What do you mean?"

"He got in trouble because of us!"

Draco scoffed. "We didn't lock him out of his dorm. We didn't tie him to Weasley and drag him through the halls after curfew. He's a big boy; he can make own his own choices."

"But…"

"Harry, this is probably actually good for him."

Harry looked utterly baffled. "How?"

Draco grinned smugly. "Think about it. A lot of people were teasing Longbottom about not belonging in Gryffindor. No one thinks he's brave, at all. Now, he's got proof, doesn't he? He was caught out after hours, involved in some reckless Gryffindor plot. Who's going to doubt him, now?"

Harry frowned contemplatively, and finally spooned some scrambled eggs and sausages onto his plate. "You think so? I still feel bad."

"Of course, you do. How about we make it up to him? We can fit three to a work station in potions. Invite him to work between us today, and we'll make sure he doesn't cause another catastrophe in class."

With a relieved sigh, Harry's shoulders relaxed, and he liberally slathered a piece of toast with marmalade. "Yeah, okay. That sounds good."

Professor Snape seemed baffled, and a little annoyed, when Neville Longbottom sat down wedged between his two top scoring Slytherins, but refrained from comment.

Draco thought Longbottom looked like a mouse trapped between three starving ally cats, the way his hands shook as he grabbed his textbook and notes from his bag. As tempting as it was to mock the boy, Draco decided, for Harry's sake, to play nice, and pointed out some difficult terms they'd had in their reading homework, to make sure Longbottom knew what they meant.

Harry joined in the conversation, helping Longbottom come to terms with what he had read and, once Harry noticed that Longbottom seemed fairly competent when it came to plants, converting his explanations into plant-related analogies.

They whispered explanations to Longbottom during Professor Snape's lecture, and tips and reminders to the hapless boy during their brewing. Professor Snape sneered at Longbottom's incompetence, but did not stop Harry or Draco from preventing another class-wide emergency, and by the end of class, Longbottom was able to turn in a passable, though far from perfect, potion.

It lacked the clarity of Harry's, or the precise shade of Draco's, but Longbottom still seemed very pleased with the result, and incredibly grateful for the help.

"It was no big deal," Harry insisted sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck.

"No, it was!" Longbottom said, with big, earnest eyes that screamed naïve victim to Draco's senses. He did his best to tamp his predatory urges down.

"Listen to the man, Harry," Draco drawled, slinging an arm around Longbottom's doughy frame. "We saved a lot of lives today."

"Yeah you… hey!" Longbottom shook Draco off.

Draco grinned. "Relax, Longbottom. That was a joke. I'm pretty sure the first-year textbook is specifically designed to minimize the potential for lethal mistakes."

Harry rolled his eyes. "That's probably true, but you were doing fine today, Neville. Even without us."

"No, Malfoy's probably right. I would have caused another accident if you two hadn't helped me. I panic too easily, and miss stuff."

"Have you tried writing out the recipes in advance?" Harry asked.

"W-what, no. There's barely enough time to brew, as it is," Longbottom stuttered.

"There's time, if you're careful. Or, you could do it the night before. Professor Snape's reading assignments tend to be about what we'll be brewing next class. At least, so far, they have. It might help you remember the steps if you copy them out by hand."

Longbottom gave a tenuous smile. "I doubt that'll help me much, but I'll try. Thanks, Harry."

"No problem. If you have any questions, feel free to ask."

Draco frowned, as he thought over the potions class with Longbottom. Harry was a good teacher. He liked to be helpful. He was already helping half of the Slytherin first-years with their assignments, and now he'd volunteered to keep helping Longbottom, too. It was going to attract the slower, less intelligent, less knowledgeable students to Harry, and to Draco, by proxy.

Hanging around Vince and Greg were one thing; they were big and intimidating, and they came from respectable families. What did Longbottom have to offer? Worse, what if word got out, and mudbloods starting asking Harry for help? Harry would give it to them, because Harry was like that. Was Draco okay with that? Should he be okay with that?

Things got worse over the weekend when, after another seeker's match in the common room, which Harry won again, one of the older students, Avery, spat out, "Why do you put up with Potter, Flint? He's the spawn of a mudblood and a blood traitor. He doesn't belong here."

Marcus leaned back into the sofa he was sitting on, and spread his arms wide, resting across it's plush, velvet back. "Oh, I don't know, Avery. He's in good with the Malfoys, so he can't be all bad, right? Besides, he's a damn good little seeker. Higgs here just about wet himself with glee at the fact that there'll be not one, but two, worthy replacements for him when he graduates. He's earning us lots of house points, too."

"That doesn't change what he is," Avery spat. "He ruined everything, and now he can just come in here like he's one of us, and flaunt his stupid scar around, like it doesn't make him the enemy?"

A tense silence filled the room. Draco blanched.

"Oh, I've actually got some questions about that," Harry said, cheerfully, flying between Avery and Marcus on his toy broom, and looking at Avery imploringly.

"I've got nothing to say to you," Avery spat.

"Please? It's just, I was raised in the muggle world, so I don't know much about the war, and what I've read in books seems pretty sanitized and biased, to be honest. I know there's got to be a good reason why you're upset with me, and I want to know what it is, but I don't. I'll just ask a few questions, please?"

"If you're mocking me, Potter…"

"I'm not! I promise. I just want to know. So, why don't you like muggleborns?"

"They're mudbloods," Avery hissed. "Say it right."

Harry tensed, but soldiered on. "Alright, either way. Why don't you like them?"

"Because they're worthless!" Avery shouted. "They're worth less than the dirt on the bottom of my shoe."

"Okay, but why?"

"They don't belong in our world. They contaminate it."

"They bring muggle diseases with them?"

"No! Well, yeah probably, I wouldn't put it past them, but it's their blood. They mix it with ours, and it weakens us. It dirties us, when we should be staying pure."

"How does it weaken you? Does it make you sick? Live shorter lives? Does it hurt your magic?"

"Yes! Mudbloods have inferior magic. Everyone knows that."

"Have there been studies done, do you know? Are there statistics to look up?"

"I don't know! Who cares?"

"Well, I do. I want to understand. So, it's purely a bloodlines thing? If they kept to themselves, or married back into the muggle world, you wouldn't have a problem with them?"

"Of course, I would! They shouldn't exist in the first place."

"Why's that?"

"They're abominations; freaks of nature. They should be put down."

"Do you think everyone with even one muggleborn ancestor deserves to die?"

"Yes!"

"No!" Adrian Pucey cut in. "Don't listen to him, Potter. Everyone's been contaminated if you go back far enough, even the sacred 28. It's not just about blood, it's about culture, too. Muggleborns don't respect the old ways. The traditions. Magical knowledge is being lost every generation, and it needs to be safeguarded."

Avery scoffed in disgust, but remained silent.

"So, if you could guarantee that a muggleborn would learn and respect the old traditions, then you'd be fine with them?"

Pucey paused. "Theoretically, yes, but it's more complicated than that."

"How so?"

"It's all about hierarchies, yeah? The old wizarding traditions, laws and rituals, are based on one of two foundational hierarchies for life. The first one puts wizard-kind at the top, then muggles, then sentient magical creatures, then non-sentient magical creatures, then non-sentient non-magical creatures, then magical plants, then non-magical plants. It prioritizes humanity first, then magic, then the complexity of the mind. The second hierarchy puts wizard-kind first, then sentient magical creatures, then non-sentient magical creatures, then magical plants, then muggles, then sentient non-magical creatures, the other non-magical creatures, then non-magical plants. It prioritizes magic first, and then humanity and the mind.

"The muggleborns tend to bring a new hierarchy with them, with first sentient creatures including humanity, then non-sentient creatures, then plants. They don't take magic into consideration at all. They would happily vote for a squib to be Minister of Magic, even though magic is in the title, and squibs don't have any. That mindset challenges and threatens a lot of the existing traditions and laws of the wizarding world."

Draco had never considered the differences between how different wizards viewed the world, before, but he found himself nodding along with Pucey's explanations. Did his parents put humanity first, or magic first, he wondered? Which did he put first? His gut instinct was magic. Magic was everything. But, something about that didn't quite feel right. Muggles, as handicapped as they were, were still people. They could create music and art, and awfully interesting inventions. Draco had even convinced his father to help him take Harry's explanation of a muggle combustion engine, and used it as a basis to make a little magically powered mechanical bat. It had been flapping around their dorm room every night, since he'd given it to Harry. Did he put muggles ahead of goblins and veela? What about house elves? What about half-breeds? Where would they fit in? It made Draco's head hurt.

Harry floated to the ground, and jumped off his toy broom. "Alright, you've both given me a lot to consider. Thank-you. I'll have more questions later, but I need to process things, for now."

"You're still a waste of space, Potter," Avery said, before storming off.

"I'll answer your questions anytime, Potter," Pucey said, squeezing Harry's shoulder as he walked past.

Harry turned to Draco and beamed. "I think that went well, don't you?"

Draco wasn't sure. He wasn't sure about much, at the moment. He needed to find something else to do, that could completely take his mind off of everything.