They'd ended up missing dinner. Instead, they'd eaten in Dumbledore's office before proceeding to the DA where Blaise was scheduled to give his talk on Magical Disguise. Assembled in the room ahead of him was what looked like the entirety of fifth year and up. He recognized Theo, Pansy and Millicent amongst the now sizeable number of Slytherins grouped defensively near the back.
Conjuring a mirror, he smiled at himself. It was odd to see Snape's face in the reflection with such an expression. The black, lank hair pressed against his chin in depressing curtains was very convincing. He'd skipped the greasiness, not wanting to defile himself like that. This was good enough, and it wasn't meant to be perfect, only to stimulate discussion.
As he swept through the room, silence rapidly fell. Uneasy murmuring started as he reached the front, glowering down at all of them.
"What," Blaise said in his best imitation of Snape, "is the meaning of this gathering?"
Harry looked up at him from his seat at the front, biting his lip with withheld laughter. Ron wasn't much better.
What really caught his eye, however, was the sight of Longbottom aghast and horrified.
"Longbottom, close your mouth. In fact, for your shameless mouth-breathing, ten points from Gryff – "
"Stupefy!"
Blaise blocked the spell that Longbottom threw at him without much issue, having expected a violent reaction from at least one person. Before anyone else could get any bright ideas, Blaise dismissed the glamour with a wave of his wand, revealing himself. He was bone-tired, but he could just about manage a smirk at the roar of laughter that met him.
"Neville!" Hermione hissed, staring at him wide-eyed.
Longbottom let out a little laugh himself.
"Thanks, Longbottom," Blaise said. "I'll try not to hold that against you. Very brave considering."
"Sorry, but I promised myself I'd curse Snape on sight," Longbottom said without an ounce of guilt.
Blaise waited for the laughter to die down.
"Anyone actually figured out I wasn't Snape? If so, how?"
Blaise ignored the immediate hand raises from his closest friends. They would always know due to their bond of fellowship. Them aside, there were quite a few hands. He ignored Theo and Millicent, not doubting their cunning or familiarity with Snape, but not wanting to acknowledge anyone from his House. For now, they were little more than observers on probation.
Bell immediately took advantage of the silence. "Your hair looked far too clean to be Snape."
Blaise laughed with most of the room, even as half his House stared daggers at Bell and him.
"I place great emphasis on personal hygiene. The grease was a step too far for me."
Once silence had returned, he pointed at a grinning Dean.
"You're about six-two, so your stride was off. Snape is quite a bit shorter."
Blaise nodded. Snape was similar in height to Harry, being about 5'10". It was one of the bigger physical tells which he hadn't wanted to mask. It'd have made the glamour even more obvious.
He turned to a keen fifth year Hufflepuff, almost leaning out of their seat in their eagerness.
"He'd never be able to get back in the castle."
Blaise didn't quite agree, but it wasn't for him to correct that assumption. "Fair. Anyone else?"
Sue gave him a smile as he acknowledged her. "It was a glamour."
"An obvious one too," Luna added.
Blaise returned her smile. "And there's the best answer, not that the others were bad. You likely all felt something off as I walked by you, especially if you had an aisle seat. If you're around witches and wizards worth a damn, wearing an illusionary glamour is the equivalent of screaming 'I'm in disguise! Look at me!'. I'd only recommend it around Muggles."
"What are you suggesting? We wear makeup or dress-up like Muggles? Like you do?" Pansy interjected with a spiteful sneer.
It was a throwback to her constant quips that he must wear mascara because of his long eyelashes and his tastes in clothing, but it was just pathetic at this point.
"Really?" Blaise asked. "You came here to say that? I'd curse you silly if I wasn't trying to give a good impression here. Besides, I might end up accidentally improving your personality and appearance at this rate."
A chorus of stifled laughter from the crowd was his answer. Theo had silenced Pansy's retort with a harsh shake of her shoulder before shaking his head in warning, but it was too late.
"Parkinson, you're such a dog," Dean said snidely.
Weasley laughed harshly. "I'll say it since Dean is too much of a gentleman. You're a lousy bitch. Who even invited you here?"
Blaise supposed he could call her Ginny from now on. She met his eye with a cool nod.
Seamus gave Blaise an encouraging smile as he too turned to face Pansy. "Like a little unruly pug. Just yapping away. Think you might just need a muzzle."
"I'll give you all detention, if you don't – " was all Pansy could say, voice wavering, before she was interrupted by Ron.
"No Malfoy here, Parkinson. Every other prefect in the school is here along with Shafiq," Ron said sharply. "Be as much of a bloody nuisance as you dare. Any detention or point deductions you try to give anyone here I will cancel. I'd take it from Slytherin, but Blaise and some of the others have managed to convince me your House could be alright."
If Blaise hadn't already been touched by the support, he would have been when the rest of the audience began to chime in, likely all having suffered from Pansy's cruel words one time or another. More Gryffindors. Some Ravenclaws. A lot of Hufflepuffs. Millicent watched on with a tiny, hidden smile as the comments caused Pansy to wilt, shrinking into her chair, as she was forced to confront the sheer ire others had for her. Others in Slytherin tried to bat for her, but the insults only kept coming. Some of them were particularly nasty, especially from the younger Hufflepuffs who'd likely been the recipient of Pansy's meanest insults.
It was the sight of Daphne approaching her seat at a leisurely pace, wand in hand, that finally unfroze her. Pansy bolted for the door with several other Slytherins in her wake, though they exited with far more dignity.
"I'll be doing a class on intimidation next year," Daphne said as she returned to her seat to light applause, a glower for everyone in their House who dared to interrupt further. "Keep your diaries free for this coming October."
Once order was restored, Blaise continued.
"I'll teach you the basics about Magical Disguise. Glamours, which again I do not recommend around other magicals, cosmetic charms, and a fair amount of human Transfiguration. Use the latter at your own peril. As McGonagall is always saying, it's some of the most dangerous magic we do here at Hogwarts."
He took a moment for the warning to sink in for his audience.
"I won't cover Polyjuice and other shapeshifting potions, but I'll instead teach you the importance of body language and maintaining a persona."
"Acting?" A Ravenclaw asked, giving him an encouraging nod.
It was kind of them, but Blaise was unruffled. Still, he thought that there may be hope for the Hogwarts to come. Maybe even some for Slytherin.
Blaise nodded. "At the end of the day, that's really the crux of it. Looking the part? That's easy with magic. Playing the part is what you'll spend the rest of your life learning."
Without further ado, he began his demonstration with an innumerable number of cosmetic charms before a brief exploration of glamours, focusing on how to make them as subtle as possible. Then it was about the importance of body language and persona, of fitting in a scene and locale. He pretended to be upper-class, adopting a snobbish accent that wouldn't be amiss for Draco or Ernie, nouveau riche and then working-class, both with his own Londoner accent. Then he went over how to dress appropriately in different environments, magical and Muggle. How to entice, to haggle, to flirt, to impress, and to persuade, drawing on memories of his mother doing each in turn and sometimes all at once. There were more than a few people taking notes, particularly as this wasn't the type of knowledge you gained from a library or from Muggle Studies.
Finally, he went on to demonstrate modification of the body with Transfiguration. He kept it simple, delving only into hair colour and texture changes, knowing that he wasn't at his best. Even exhausted and sickly from Dementor exposure, he'd done well enough.
Then, it was time for the practical. Everyone was given half an hour to practice techniques of their choice as Blaise, Hermione, Daphne, and a few seventh year Ravenclaws roamed the room, correcting and guiding in their areas of expertise. After that, about three-quarters of the class were given the names of people that Blaise knew well to impersonate alongside allowed methods, and the victims had to find all the people attempting to impersonate them. Tracey had handed out the assignments, seeing as she was a social chameleon, and knew everyone. Blaise was merely a product of his time at the school, a reluctant actor.
A smorgasbord of impersonations met him. More than a few Harrys of mixed quality attempted to stare at him imposingly as he rounded the room, curious and laughing constantly. The Hermiones were the most obvious though. He could recognise that insane hair anywhere.
His favourites were the Lunas. Like a weed, she'd grown on him, and seeing some of his peers attempt to impersonate her without offending Harry was hilarious. Millicent, burly and strong, whose assignment precluded her from using magic, was doing her best impression of the petite Ravenclaw by slouching and trying to make her own grey eyes bulge in their sockets while speaking in a breathy and dream-like manner. Luna had patted her on the head, told her well done like she was a well-trained dog, and moved on to search for the next Luna impersonator.
It was great fun and going by the frequent peals of laughter in the room, he wasn't the only one to think so. It had to end eventually, as curfew was beginning to loom for the fifth years.
"Thank you for attending. I hope it was, if not educational, at least entertaining," Blaise called.
A wave of agreement and smiles met him.
"Great session. One of my favourites, honestly," Tracey said as the room began to clear out.
Ron joined them.
"I'm reluctantly impressed," he admitted. "Was expecting something a little half-arsed, honestly. Especially after our evening."
Blaise smirked at him. "I'll take that as a compliment. Look forward to seeing what you have for us next year."
He gave Blaise and Tracey a smile before moving to join Harry, Dean, Seamus and Michael Corner.
"Fun trip?" Tracey asked him after giving him a onceover.
Blaise considered it. The dementors aside, he'd enjoyed the flying. The Quidditch season had ended in early May, and he hadn't been foolish enough to attend post-season practice after word had gone round about his responsibility for Harry's improved eyesight. Especially after the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw final match.
"Hundreds of dementors chasing you on a broom? Great trip, Tracey. Would recommend."
Tracey winced. "You do look a little pale. And tired."
"What about you?"
"I'd think I was even more popular than normal, but it's just everyone asking for you. Padma. Sue. Susan. Terry. Dean. Seamus. Justin. Ernie. Theo. Millicent. In fact, even Zacharias, your absolute favourite, came round to speak to me. Probably others I've forgotten."
Some of the names provoked confusion from Blaise.
"Some of them must have wanted Harry, right?"
"No, they all very much wanted you. Harry is… he's intimidating to people, you know?"
Blaise frowned. "And I'm not?"
"Not like him. He's got that whole Dumbledore thing going on, you know? Larger than life presence."
Now that Blaise understood. "And they see me as the in with him?"
"That's my guess."
Daphne sidled alongside him, giving him a gentle arm pat. "Well done. I quite enjoyed that. Not so much Seamus' impression of me, but the content itself was good."
Seamus had simply sat in a corner, legs outstretched and glared with a childish pout at everyone who walked by. This was after lengthening his hair into a bob and dying it a stark platinum blond. Pretty much every Slytherin who'd passed him risked going into hysterics.
"Before you disappear with Harry," Daphne said, giving him an intent look, "Slughorn has called a meeting of the entire House in the common room tonight. You missed the announcement at dinner."
Blaise sighed. "Let me quickly say goodbye."
He quickly caught up to Harry, interrupting him by taking his hand. "I'll see you later. Slughorn is laying down the law in Slytherin or something."
Harry pulled him into a quick embrace and murmured. "I'll wait up for you. My favourite session, not that I'm biased or anything."
Blaise just smiled cheekily at him. "As I said before our little Knockturn excursion, when I have to do something, I do it right."
They separated and Blaise bid goodbye to the others.
He joined Tracey and Daphne at the doorway, and they immediately ran into Theo and Millicent in the corridor.
"Yes?"
Theo gave him a searching look. "Can we talk on the way?"
Millicent, usually silent and looming, cut to the chase immediately. "We're trying to obtain our freedom, and I can't speak for Theo, but I need a guarantee of protection. At least in the beginning. Can I expect any help from you three? From Potter?"
"Why the change of heart?" Blaise asked, staring at Theo and Millicent in turn. Millicent's political views were a mystery. She'd spent Hogwarts as little more than Pansy's shadow and bodyguard.
"I'm sick of doing what I'm told," Millicent simply said.
"How could I think Muggleborns are inferior when Granger is a damn near genius?" Theo asked rhetorically with a harsh bark of laughter. He lowered his voice to a soft whisper as they reached the Grand Staircase and began to descend towards the dungeons. "Either way, it doesn't matter. Tomorrow morning, my father goes on the run. He expects the rest of his leverage in the Ministry to vanish, as his influence over Hogwarts has, and a capture-on-sight bulletin to be issued soon after. He expects me to join him."
"And will you?" Daphne asked.
"No," Theo said immediately. "I don't want what he wants for society."
Tracey watched silently, not even a glimmer of a cheeky smile on her face. "Are you filling for emancipation?"
They both shook their heads. "We're both of age."
Daphne frowned deeply, but she offered them an olive branch. "Well, you're both welcome to stay with me over the summer. I will warn you both only once: do anything to harm or upset Astoria and you'll regret it."
"Just like that?" Millicent asked, visibly alarmed at Daphne's quick offer. Blaise and Tracey were just as baffled.
"Just like that," Daphne echoed. "I'm not yet in a position to truly throw my lot in with Harry as Blaise has done, but I can at least do this. Don't make me regret this."
"You heard about Bassingthwaite, yes?"
Millicent nodded, but Theo looked at him as if seeing him for the first time.
"That was me if you didn't know," Blaise said. "Like Daphne, I will only warn you once: do not ever fuck with me. That extends to all my friends. Understood?"
"Understood," they said together.
Slughorn cleared his throat. There was no joviality in his expression, only a sense of restrained disgust.
"Good evening, Slytherin," Slughorn said. "I wish I were addressing you under better circumstances, but you do not choose your opportunities. Rather, you grasp them as they appear. I imagine this is a sentiment you're all familiar with, so it should come as no surprise to you that Slytherin will be changing. My vision for this House demands it."
Tracey nudged him, eyes alight in anticipation.
"I've taken the liberty of reviewing the points log for the past few years, and it appears that Severus has encouraged the worst of you. This, I tell you, will and must change. I won't stand for any bullying or assault of the kind that befell Mr Bassingthwaite last night."
The crowd remained silent, but the glowering and dismissive faces that met Slughorn were just another form of defiance.
"That extends to the many altercations it seems some of our number have with other Houses. What became of our cunning? Of our ambition? Am I to believe that Slytherin has sunk so much that we now content ourselves with mediocrity soothed by meanspirited acts towards others? I've spoken to my fellow Heads of House and have been forced to conclude that yes, that is exactly what Slytherin has become."
"Lies!"
"We're nothing like that!"
Other feeble denials resounded throughout the room as it grew quite rowdy.
"Silence," Slughorn demanded.
It didn't provoke the immediate compliance that Snape enjoyed, but Slughorn's subsequent Noisemaker Hex was deafening and equally effective.
"It is a new era for Hogwarts, and we shall not be found wanting. Do not let me find you wanting."
As Slughorn searched the room for further dissenters, Blaise found Bassingthwaite staring at him. He gave Bassingthwaite a wink and mimed a little kiss, enjoying the reflexive swallow it provoked from him.
A new era indeed.
Blaise was on the hunt.
Thorne had snuck away from his friends to the Astronomy Tower immediately after dinner to meet up with his secret girlfriend, Marietta Edgecombe, a half-blood Ravenclaw. He'd have preferred Urquhart, but he was smarter than his peers and never seemed to leave the common room.
With the aid of Harry's map, it was easy to stalk him. One of Bassingthwaite's plans was to throw him off a staircase, in mocking mimicry of his comedy of errors with Harry two months ago, so Blaise thought it'd be fitting to play a somewhat benign tribute. Hermione had taken him aside after their return last night and extracted a promise out of him to not do anything that would get him immediately expelled. He wasn't quite sure his intentions for Thorne would achieve even that, but there would be no lasting harm. Physical at least.
Thorne crossed his path, oblivious to Blaise lying in wait under Disillusionment. There was a disorder to his robes and a lingering satisfaction to his expression that spoke of a pleasurable encounter. Daphne would have just announced herself and cursed him, not caring for subtlety, but Blaise had far greater ambitions.
In mere seconds, the contentment on Thorne's face vanished into confusion as he was forced up into the air by his ankle, wrapped tightly in ropes, and spelled into silence. The portraits were thinner up here, but the few that remained watched baffled as Thorne floated along the corridor towards the Grand Staircase under Blaise's wand. They quickly abandoned their portraits in search of help or to gather an audience. Either way, Blaise would be quick.
Combining his jinx with a Levitation Charm, Thorne ascended into the empty space, dangling high above the staircases below on the sixth floor with violent panic in his eyes. There was no real struggle, but what struggle could be attempted when Blaise had used incarcerous on him three times? Plural-casting was a lovely thing.
Blaise leaned over the banister and dropped his Disillusionment.
"Evening, Thorne. Fancy seeing you here."
At the sound of his voice, Thorne's arms flexed ineffectually against the ropes.
Blaise released the jinx, letting Thorne descend before rocketing him back upwards with another silent levicorpus. He continued this yo-yoing with increasingly violent oscillations until Thorne came within feet of slamming into the sixth-floor staircase. He reappeared into view, his eyes bloodshot and mouth open in a silent scream.
"I really want to drop you," Blaise said, not even needing to force the disappointment in his voice. Thorne stared at him, upside down, as a vicious smile crossed his face. "Maybe I will."
He dropped him one final time. This time, he allowed him to come within inches of the unforgiving stone of the staircase below before forcing him to surge back into view. Blaise sneered at the dark patch spreading at the crotch of Thorne's robes.
"I'd do it," Blaise said, staring directly into Thorne's crazed eyes, "but I wouldn't want to risk the staircase becoming as foolish as you if you landed on your head. It might not catch Hallett or Urquhart when I go for them next."
Blaise released the silencing spell, wanting to hear what Thorne had to say.
"I'll tell Slughorn," he immediately spat.
"You think he'd believe you? Slughorn loves me," Blaise said in a low tone. Like with Bassingthwaite, there was no real pleasure in this, just a sense of heavy finality. Culmination. "I have Harry Potter, the Chosen One, wrapped around my finger, as you and your friends would put it. If you just happened to have a serious accident, like Bassingthwaite, wouldn't it be simply unfortunate I may have been involved?"
Blaise weakened the jinx a little, allowing Thorne to feel the inexorable pull of gravity once more, and he vomited down the stairwell.
"You're crazy," Thorne sobbed deliriously, eyes slick with tears and ruddy faced.
It was a relief to Blaise that he still felt a little twinge of sympathy. He was willing to be monstrous if need be, but he never wanted it to be easy.
"Didn't you plan to throw me down the stairs? I'm only as crazy as you."
Blaise summoned the pathetic boy to him and released his spell for the final time, letting Thorne drop to the floor beside him with a gasping moan. The sharp aroma of urine was overpowering with him so close, and it forced him to take a step back.
"Disgusting," Blaise said sharply. "At the end of the day, you're just a little bitch, aren't you?"
At Thorne's silence, Blaise simply lifted his foot over his right hand and applied light pressure, feeling the slight crinkle of fingerbones underfoot. "Say it."
"I'm a little bitch," Thorne murmured immediately, eyes facing the ceiling and fresh tears rolling down his face.
Blaise frowned. He'd been aiming for complete humiliation, but this was too easy.
"You and your friends are going to have a very quiet, peaceful final week at Hogwarts," Blaise spat. "After that? Go join the Dark Lord and torture some Muggles or whatever picks your fancy. I can only imagine what it takes to get you going with your very pure-blooded girlfriend."
Blaise simply smiled at the renewed surge of horror in Thorne's eyes. "Oh yes, I know all about that. What would Bassingthwaite think? A proper bedwetting wizard such as yourself with a half-blood? I'd say you're not even good enough for a Knockturn Alley hag, but would he think the same?"
Thorne cried silently to himself, knowing that his friendship with at least Urquhart and Bassingthwaite would be very quickly finished. It was also possible he had feelings for Edgecombe, but either way, the result was the same. Whether you lived by blood purism or not, there were always consequences in Wizarding Britain, especially in Slytherin.
"Well? What do you have to say for yourself, little bitch?"
It took Thorne a moment to get a hold of himself enough to speak.
"I'll tell Urquhart and Hallett to back off," he said in a faint voice.
"And?"
"I'll try with Bassingthwaite," Thorne whispered.
Blaise finally removed the ropes binding him. So caught up in freedom and the immediate need to soothe himself, Thorne made no attempt to get off the floor. He hid his eyes behind his hands, shaking against the stone. Wanting this experience to sink in for him, Blaise watched as he eventually got himself together, revealing his snotty face to the world once more.
"I almost killed him, didn't I? If you care about your friend, you'll do more than try."
Thorne made to look in his direction, but faltered, failing to find the courage to make eye contact with Blaise once more. Broken, just as Blaise had intended.
"I'm talking to you, little bitch."
"I'll try," Thorne said.
Thorne made to get up, but Blaise stopped him with an idle flick of his wand to press him against the floor.
"If I catch you outside of Hogwarts with any hint of affiliation with the Dark Lord, preying on Muggles or anyone, I'll make Daphne seem like a teddy bear. What I did to you? That was me going easy on you. That was me teaching you a lesson. Do you understand or do we need to do this again?"
Blaise released the charm as Thorne began to violently writhe. He watched on, somewhat amused, as Thorne scrambled to his feet and ran for the stairs. It was as if a dragon were on his heels. It was clear that the lesson had sunk in. For now.
"I saw all of that, young wizard," came a gallant voice behind him. "I'll give you a moment to explain yourself before I allow some of my more squeamish companions to summon the headmaster."
Blaise turned to find the four portraits on the corner of the corridor leading to the Grand Staircase crammed with occupants. There were a few familiar faces, the Fat Lady smiling genially at him and toasting him, a harried, sullen scribe with a massive mane of silver hair who was usually on the fifth floor beside the Arithmancy classroom grinning madly at him, and others. Before he could take inventory of them, he was distracted by an armour-clad knight waving at him.
"Up here, young Slytherin," the knight snapped. "Quickly now."
Blaise was fucked.
"Good evening, sir knight," he said evenly. "What would you have me tell you?"
"The truth, foul knave!"
Blaise gave the Fat Lady a bewildered look. She merely giggled.
"Sir Cadogan, he's Harry Potter's confidant and romantic partner," the Fat Lady said. "I trust him."
At that, Sir Cadogan's temper faded rapidly. "Truly?"
"Truly."
"If he is paired with the most chivalrous student to walk these halls, I must be reasonable!"
Blaise smiled at the Fat Lady, recognising a good deed being rewarded with another. "I'll tell you the truth."
The portraits were very silent after he'd finished.
"I still do not approve, young man," a wizened old man said, peering at him through a monocle. "It is the place of the faculty to correct poor behaviour."
"Ha!" The scribe exclaimed. "There are no standards for Slytherin. Back in my day, feuds were encouraged and resolved amicably, sometimes maliciously, but what's the difference? Someone had to lose! There was a little murder here and there, but that made us strong! It kept us guessing! Friend or foe? Who even knew?!"
Blaise stared alongside half the portraits. The scribe was insane.
"Perhaps things weren't better back then, Morwell," the Fat Lady said quietly.
"I will not hear it from you, Theia. When you're not singing and inadvertently summoning extradimensional entities to the school, you're slacking with Violet, drinking port by the barrel!" The scribe said, gesticulating madly with his quill. He turned back to Blaise. "I saw nothing wrong here. Back in my day at Hogwarts, this type of corrective behaviour was commonplace and encouraged."
"And when was that, Morwell?" The wizened old man asked.
"1262. Back when wizards were wizards!"
"And witches?" Theia asked pointedly.
"They existed, I suppose," Morwell admitted snidely. "Never married one. My potions research was far too important."
"I'm sure," Theia said drily. "Good to hear that you dedicated yourself to witchcraft, dear."
Morwell grumbled under his breath.
"So, what is our decision? Do we let young Blaise go on his way?" Sir Cadogan asked.
"Forgive me, young man, but I would rather have this escalated to the headmaster," the wizened wizard said.
A debonair gentleman with a pipe laughed heartily. "It's now 1997, dear Morwell. I fear standards have evolved, so I will also join my wise companion with the decision of escalation."
"Poppycock! Wizards must solve their conflicts as wizards do!" Morwell yelled, irate, but he turned to Blaise with a fist held aloft. "I'm with you, young one!"
Blaise just listened as the portraits bickered as they each voted and condemned one another. It was a close vote, and quite frankly, the most unintentionally hilarious thing Blaise had ever seen. Unfortunately, the consequences were too severe to truly indulge. He waited on tenterhooks as the vote came to 13-12 in favour of escalating to Dumbledore.
"Harry is dear to me, Blaise. As are all my charges in Gryffindor," Theia said. "If he supports this, as I can tell by that parchment protruding out of your pocket, I will also. No escalation to the headmaster."
The deciding vote then came to Sir Cadogan.
"It was not honourable. It wasn't right," Sir Cadogan said coldly.
Blaise nodded. "Maybe, but I've likely cost the Dark Lord a follower or two if the lesson sticks."
"See, fools!" Morwell yelled. "Honour is in the ends, not the means! Break them before they become strong!"
Sir Cadogan continued as if Morwell hadn't spoken, which was probably the wisest decision.
"The only reason I will not be escalating to the headmaster is because of one thing you said at the end. 'If I catch you preying on Muggles or anyone else'. It is the charge of a knight to protect the downtrodden, and the helpless, so whilst I may not agree with your methods, I can appreciate your intent. Walk with your head high, friend, and do not let me catch you doing anything like this again."
He made his way towards the Gryffindor common room to drop off the map, shadowed by Theia, who quickly extracted a promise to only use that name with her in absolute privacy. Dean ambushed him at the portrait hole.
"Harry said you'd be around here eventually," Dean said. "Can we talk?"
Blaise followed him to a nearby corridor, facing him after leaning on the opposing wall.
"Go on."
Dean nodded sharply. "Let me help with the fight against You-Know-Who. After that Muggleborn Registration Commission, I can't sit around and do nothing."
"Why not Ron? Or even Hermione?"
Dean's grimace grew ugly.
"Have you ever heard Hermione talk about her parents? Her family?"
Blaise frowned a little. Any mention he'd heard had only extended as far as to their occupations and the holidays they were constantly trying to get Hermione to join them on. A muted fondness, not unlike the type you'd reserve for a favourite set of distant relatives.
"Not much."
"Thought so. I'm in the Owlery almost every morning, sending letters to my family. Never see her there. And Ron? Have you heard about his squib accountant uncle? The one his family don't talk to?"
Dean nodded curtly at Blaise's ensuing silence.
"I don't doubt that they care about Muggles, but do they have any deep connections like I do? I doubt that."
"And I do?"
"I don't think many Purebloods sound like they've spent a significant time in Brixton. I'd say you're lucky most of them wouldn't be able to even find it on a map," Dean said rather dryly.
"For all you know, I might have a black Pureblood mandem going on in South London," Blaise said in his most snide tone. "In fact, wagwarn and bumbaclart are our signature spells."
Dean's grim seriousness dissolved into laughter. "Tracey told me you'd do this."
"Do what?"
"Try and be funny to redirect the conversation," Dean said, smiling widely at him. "I appreciate it though. Never thought I'd hear any patois in Hogwarts after Lee left."
He looked expectantly at Blaise, clearly wanting an explanation, so he obliged.
"When my uncle first came to London, a few years before I came to Hogwarts, he wanted to go native to study astronomy as the Muggles do. I live with him and socialising with Muggles is a requirement. A tiny flat in Camberwell with liberal Expansion Charms in the hidden rooms till third year. That was when he and his wife thought buying a semi-detached in Chelsea would look believable."
"And you have Muggle friends and family?"
Blaise shrugged. "Some."
"You understand where I'm coming from then."
The burgeoning hope in Dean's eyes was almost pitiful. Blaise decided it was time to finally cut to the chase.
"So why should I let you be involved?"
"I'm decent with a wand, you know that. People find me intimidating when I'm not… you know, being all sunshine and shit. I know how to use that, which I bet you'd understand. Angelina and Lee did. Seamus does, thankfully."
His uncle had warned him about the realities of being black, male and physically imposing after he'd went through a growth spurt in the summer before second year. He'd returned to Hogwarts prepared to be friendly but dignified, even with how painful his first year had been. It hadn't lasted long.
Blaise with his rapidly fading stoicism, and Dean with his cheerful temperament. Everyone coped differently.
"I do," Blaise said with a heavy sigh. "What else do you bring to the table?"
"I'm one of the best at Runes. Hermione may have the dictionaries near memorised, but nobody can draw or inscribe them as good as me. Babbling is crazy about me, always asking me to do the demonstrations."
Blaise nodded to himself. With the rituals they were planning on doing, he'd be a great help. Dean smiled triumphantly.
"I'm useful to you, so let me help. Harry gave you a chance, so why not me? I have nothing to lose."
It was that statement that finally broke Blaise's resistance. Of all the people who'd approached him, Dean had had the best argument. Justin had offered monetary support, which they had little need for. Ernie was too blustering, alternatively making excuses and griping about the state of the Ministry. Padma had approached him with the air of someone treating the events at the Ministry like an extension of the Hogwarts gossip mill. Sue and Susan, though, there was potential there. The same was true of Theo and Millicent who'd found the bravado to corner him privately in the library, but it would take a long time for Blaise to ever dare trust them near Harry. He deserved only true conviction and the very best of this school. Nothing more, nothing less.
"So why aren't you asking Harry then?"
Dean snorted. "I plan to when he's not busy, and I thought it'd help if you put in a good word for me. He listens to you."
The Gryffindor had won him over, but Blaise had to at least make this somewhat difficult.
"We've been doing a lot of rounding up of Dementors. We cleared out Stratford on Monday. Truro in Cornwall yesterday evening. I know you can fly a broom, but do you have a corporeal Patronus?"
Without missing a beat, Dean waved his wand in the familiar circle of the Patronus Charm. A brilliant sea lion flopped onto the stones, peering to and fro before clapping its hands together in joyful expectation.
"Wasn't expecting that," Blaise admitted, reluctantly impressed.
Dean dismissed his patronus, and the silvery light vanished back into his wand. There was no mistaking the satisfaction on his face as he took in Blaise's reaction.
"Only managed it a few weeks ago. Harry taught me a non-corporeal version in the DA last year, but I've been practicing like crazy ever since my stepsister sent me a letter about the state of Stratford."
Eyeing Dean's towering height, Blaise smirked.
"I meant that I was more expecting a giraffe."
Dean simply gave him the finger with a scowl.
"You'd definitely get along with Seamus, which will be good for you."
"Oh?"
"You need more male friends," Dean said. "That teeth-clenched teamwork thing you've got going with Ron isn't cutting it."
"Not including yourself?"
Dean gave him a cool look. "Not sure about friends quite yet, but we have an understanding, don't you think?"
Blaise couldn't help but feel a little offended, especially after the time he'd taken to teach him the many spells he'd learnt over the years to groom himself. "Many acquaintances, few friends?"
"I make an effort to see my friends over the summer," Dean simply said.
It served as confirmation and a challenge to Blaise, so he just extended his hand. It was like old muscle memory to give dap, especially with Dean catching on immediately.
"I'm free around late August. Might have Harry with me, might not. Either way, you better not be wolfing it up when I see you."
Dean raked a hand through his fade. "I'll owl you. Wolfing? Now that I know how to transfigure hair and with those spells you taught me, I might have a sudden urge for cornrows. We'll see."
Blaise laughed at that. "Don't worry. I'll be there to fix it if need be."
Dean gave him an appreciative nod before looking over his shoulder, eyes alight with confusion. "Dumbledore?"
Blaise turned to find a silvery phoenix looming at his shoulder. "My office in your own time, Mr Zabini," came Dumbledore's firm voice.
"Well, duty calls," Blaise said.
Blaise entered the headmaster's office to find a varied crowd. McGonagall and Flitwick were arguing intensely with Dumbledore, Kingsley, and Moody. Hermione, Ron, and Harry sat before them, irritated and more than a little fed up. Slughorn watched on from a palatial armchair on the side, bored. Upon seeing Blaise, he gave him a warm smile and conjured him a seat to match those Harry and the others were sitting in.
"Voldemort is on the move," Harry said in greeting.
Blaise exhaled harshly. Just the mention was enough to make him feel queasy, but the steeliness in Harry's eyes was bolstering, particularly as he began to catch fragments of the heated argument before him.
Ron nodded at him. "We tried arguing, but McGonagall won't hear a word from us."
"Nothing different there," Harry muttered under his breath.
"Flitwick?" Blaise asked.
"He's just upset," Hermione murmured. "I think he can be brought around."
"Kingsley, be reasonable!" McGonagall shouted. So deep in her anger, she had to grip the desk to keep herself steady.
"My stance is the same as Dumbledore's," Kingsley beseeched in an incredibly soothing voice. "They will be informed of the risks and be allowed to make a judgment call."
"Have you forgotten that they are children?" McGonagall asked.
"And You-Know-Who doesn't give a toss," Moody simply said. "They're all of age, bar Potter, so this is their choice to make."
"I do not approve of this at all, Albus," Flitwick said sadly.
"I will allow them this choice," Dumbledore said calmly, despite McGonagall looking like she was on the verge of going for her wand as she loomed above him. "And besides, I have little reason to fear if we all intend on participating."
"Again, they are merely students," McGonagall snapped.
Moody shook his head. "Flitwick, McGonagall, in times like these, I'd rather have Potter and his friends at my back than half the Auror force. They're at least competent and can follow orders."
Flitwick turned to face them, beseeching them to see reason with his eyes. "Do your parents know?"
Blaise nodded. As his mother had left him that evening days ago, she'd warned him to be prepared to fight for Harry. There'd been no repudiation in her voice, only a gentle reminder, which he'd acknowledged and would continue to do so.
Ron and Hermione shook their heads.
"Are you really going to threaten me with my mother?" Ron asked, an angry flush on his face.
McGonagall swept round to face him. "If need be, Mr Weasley."
Hermione stared up at McGonagall, visibly betrayed.
"If children aren't suitable, why don't you and the rest of the staff do the work, Headmistress?" Harry asked with a gentle smile. "Resign from your post. Fight Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Save me some hassle."
McGonagall only grew angrier at Harry's cheek. "Mr Potter!"
Harry shrugged. "Sorry to be snide, but there are only imperfect options here. We're willing to do what must be done."
Slughorn finally interjected. "He is right, Minerva. If you and Filius have such strong opinions, what has stopped you from doing what must be done? Greyback is their work. The unveiling of Dolores and Yaxley's schemes is truly their work. A newly reinvigorated Hogwarts? That too is their work, even with more than a little flexing of Albus' and Scrimgeour's political capital. You look at the sources of our newfound fortune and reject them. Rudely too."
Finally, he gave them a wide smile, so visibly proud and pleased.
"If neither of you will step forward, I will. It's truly a shame to think that only Slytherin will rise to the occasion, but the good fight must be fought! Children, no, I only see young adults, capable and perhaps a little too brave, but regardless I am incredibly proud to stand behind you, to support you."
It was a masterful speech and, above all, incredibly sincere. McGonagall stared flatly; the wind taken out of her sails at having Slughorn out-Gryffindor her. Dumbledore also stared, but his eyes were alight with more than a little surprise and pride of his own. It made sense, as even Blaise was a little surprised considering Slughorn had spent the past decade on the run.
"Horace, you're right, but still…" Flitwick murmured.
"I know, Filius, I know," Slughorn said more than a little hoarsely. "It's painful. I see Fabian and Gideon in Ronald, Lily and James in Harry, and so much promise in Hermione and Blaise. In them all, in fact. Every student. Still, I will have faith, and above all, I will do right by those who have been lost."
Ron stared at Slughorn, violently red in embarrassment. Blaise was certain that was the first time Slughorn had ever said his name.
McGonagall sighed, though there was a softness to her that Blaise had never seen before. "This is emotional blackmail, Horace."
"Of course it is," Slughorn said. "I'd think you were made of stone if you didn't feel anything, Minerva."
"Forgive me, students," McGonagall said quietly.
A loud yowling sounded from Slughorn's pocket watch, which he silenced with a jab of his wand.
"Slytherin acting up once more," Slughorn said in a curt tone. "Forgive me, but I must go and correct some particularly brutish behaviour."
He left with a final genial smile at them all.
"I must return to my office," Flitwick also said. "Much to think about. Much to do."
McGonagall turned to face them all once she was the only Head of House remaining.
"You are sure of this? Truly sure?"
"Definitely," Ron said.
"Very well," McGonagall said. "I will see you all tomorrow evening."
With that she too left.
"Now, let us get to the chase," Dumbledore said. "We will be aiding in the defence of Nuremgard tomorrow evening."
Hermione gasped. "Where Grindelwald is prisoner?"
Dumbledore nodded. "The very same. Voldemort will be coming personally, along with some of his most elite: Bellatrix Lestrange, Augustus Rookwood, the Lestrange brothers, amongst others. I have reason to believe he has supplemented the werewolves who've remained loyal in the absence of Greyback with a coven of Belarusian vampires."
"The Ivanovs?" Kingsley asked.
Dumbledore sighed. "Unfortunately. They are little more than mercenaries, but they are incredibly dangerous all the same."
"They're bloodthirsty and live to fight. That's without mentioning they have wands! We'll have a fight on our hands," Moody said with a nasty grimace, though it looked almost pleased to Blaise's eyes.
"Like all that are a mere imitation of life, fire and light will repel them."
Harry cleared his throat. "Why is Voldemort going there?"
"Why Nuremgard? Voldemort seeks Grindelwald. Through no fault of your own, he has confirmed without doubt that your wands are brothers and seeks a greater wand. Gregorovitch was found dead yesterday evening, and now he seeks Grindelwald. There are few alive with greater knowledge of wand lore than Ollivander, who remains in his clutches, but if I were to name one, Grindelwald would come close."
"Who else will be coming?" Hermione asked.
Dumbledore smiled. "Thanks to Horace's quick thinking, Filius and Minerva, of course. The Order's battle-ready – Hestia will be accompanied by Cheng Li, Sturgis, Remus, and Vittoria will be bringing a few of her alumni with her."
Blaise didn't even react to Harry giving him a significant look.
"I've called in a few friends from the ICW and Poland to be on standby," Moody added. "They respect opsec, so they've not asked for details."
Kingsley smiled broadly. "Poland, eh? The ex-wife?"
"The ex-wife," Moody confirmed with his own little smirk. "Surprisingly happy to hear from me, but she's always loved a good battle."
Blaise had been morbidly curious to hear what type of woman would marry Moody, but now knowing she was just as bloodthirsty, he could only wonder how many scars she had.
Kingsley laughed. "That aside, Robards will be coming along with some of the British Auror elite."
Moody harrumphed at that. "All the British elite was either just in this room or is still here."
"I will say this only once, students: I will do everything in my power to protect you all, but there will always be a real, material risk of death. There is no shame in walking away. Will you fight?"
Ron nodded. "I will."
"As will I," Hermione said.
All eyes turned to Blaise and Harry.
"Of course," Blaise said, and he had eyes only for Harry.
A fierce smile crossed Harry's face as he beheld them all. "There you have it."
"Now, I would invite you to come to my desk. Filius and Harry have kindly provided me memories of your tournaments, and I've prepared some materials for each of you. Mr Zabini, please come here."
Blaise rose to his feet, approaching the smiling headmaster. He passed three books over to him. The first was rather thin and written in Mandarin, but as Blaise studied it closely, the characters slowly shifted into Italian. Then Portuguese and English. It eventually settled on Italian.
Dual-casting and more advanced formation works: a memoir on the bond of blood brothers by Liu Bei, translated by Albus Dumbledore.
He quickly flicked through it, finding numerological analyses of small-scale communion magic used in historical battles, though it was frequently referred to as formation magic. Magical China wasn't covered in any of his studies, so he was tempted to think it was a linguistic divergence, but the fixation on the importance of positions within communion spells convinced him otherwise. It was obvious this was intended for him and Harry.
The next book was much thicker, bound in the leather of what looked like a goat, and written in Yoruba, though it too eventually settled on Italian as Blaise looked it over.
A Deliberation with Wand and Ritual on the Art of Debilitation by Babajide Akingbade, translated by Albus Dumbledore
Akingbade, the Supreme Mugwump who'd replaced Dumbledore at the beginning of fifth year, was a warlock in the traditional sense. He was not just a particularly martial wizard like Dumbledore, as the modern definition of warlock demanded, but he was also known for a prodigious talent in Dark curses and hexes. This was more up Blaise's alley, and likely incredibly rare, if not personal, to not be written in Swahili like most textbooks written by Uagadou graduates. He wasn't entirely ungrateful.
"Thank you, Professor," Blaise said quietly.
Dumbledore nodded gently. "Think nothing of it, but there is still one more."
Occlumency: Occlusion and Vanishment of the Mind by Albus Dumbledore
This one was even more confusing than the first, and it must have shown on his face as Dumbledore nodded almost sympathetically.
"You have a lot of anger, even if you hide it admirably. I do not begrudge you for it," Dumbledore said in a near whisper. "Still, I think Occlumency would be good for you, and you are best suited to teaching this to Harry. Please consider this for me."
Blaise swallowed down his misgivings. Dumbledore played him like a fiddle, knowing exactly how to ensure compliance from him. Even the order of the books was calculated.
"I will."
"Thank you," Dumbledore said with a soft smile at him.
Blaise hated him viciously for a moment, knowing that this was exactly how Harry had been won over. Interspersing meddling with good intentions. The worst part was that Blaise knew it would eventually work.
Ron was next. He returned, both visibly perplexed and a little pleased, with two books on healing and another on precision spells. Now that Blaise thought about it, Ron did have great aim.
Hermione received four. There was no smile on her face, just a grim determination, as she took her seat. Legilimency, two large books on Transfiguration, and a final one on common spell-chains. Like Blaise, Dumbledore likely thought Hermione's offense was too pedestrian, almost polite. She could use a little injection of pace.
Harry only received two, but this was likely in addition to his private tutelage. He returned next to him, an identical book about dual casting and blood brothers in his hands, though in English. The other was a massive philosophical tome on magical auspice, the importance of acts, symbols and choices. It was the metaphysical aspects of magic, or the true magic as his mother would describe it, where existing rules blurred or even failed, and feats accomplished by Harry's mother became possible.
"I shall see you all tomorrow for the defence. Sleep well. Eat well. Be prepared."