Harry took the realisation that he was attracted to boys surprisingly well; with the most powerful dark wizard in Britain determined to kill you, it made it difficult to angst about something so comparatively trivial. Besides, it put his fixation on Cedric in fourth year into a new perspective that explained quite a lot.
Now, as he lay in his bed, unable to sleep, he thought of his dormmates. Dean, tallest in their year and effortlessly outgoing; Seamus with his cheeky grin and pleasant accent; Neville who'd came into his own so suddenly these last two years; Ron, his best mate. It was a pleasant relief that none of them seemed to induce that niggling flutter in his chest when he thought of Blaise. The fact that Blaise seemed to be openly bisexual was darkly dangerous, an ever-present temptation. The thought of his smile was enough to cause his stomach to act like a capsizing boat.
Harry laughed under his breath to himself. He finally got the girl he wanted, and now he seemed to want someone else.
"Going to share the joke, Harry?" Ron called from his bed, voice groggy with sleep.
"Don't worry, Ron. It's not even a joke."
It wasn't funny. Just sad, really.
"Oi! Captain!"
Harry rolled back into his quilt, groaning something incoherent. Couldn't Ron understand that it was Saturday?
"Usually he's happier than that at the idea of Quidditch practice," Ron murmured to someone stood in the dark beside him.
"Weather's pretty good for Quidditch today," Dean said. "Maybe he's going barmy?"
"Nah, I think it's more likely he forgot that we have practice today," Ron said.
Dean snorted. "Barmy then."
"I'm not barmy," Harry muttered from his cocoon. "Just… wait."
He pushed his covers off with a curse, glaring as powerfully as he could at the tall shadows at the foot of his bed, and looked at his bedside clock. Why did he arrange practice at five this week?
"Practice is in fifteen minutes," he grumbled. "I'll get out of bed."
"By the way, Katie asked me to come to practice as she's still feeling green from Mungo's," Dean said.
Harry snapped out of his stupor, remembering that, yes, Quidditch is played with 3 Chasers, and not 4.
"That's fine," he mumbled. "It's probably a good idea to have a substitute Chaser regularly attending practice."
"Cheers." Dean nodded at him before following Ron.
"Ravenclaw next week," Harry said. After four years of Wood and a year of Angelina, it had become customary for the Gryffindor captain to give a speech before the final game for the Quidditch Cup.
"They don't stand a chance," Ginny said dryly.
Harry felt his momentum vanish.
"Hey, let Captain Potter get to it," Katie said. Her harsh tone was softened by the playful smirk she gave Ginny. For her troubles, she was answered with an eyeroll and Ron gagging loudly. Harry couldn't even muster his usual offense when Ron mocked his authority – it happened far too frequently. Besides, it wouldn't be the Gryffindor Quidditch team if the captain didn't double as a herder of cats.
Demelza cleared her throat, stepping onto her tip-toes to give everyone around her the evil-eye. it wasn't as effective as Harry thought she'd have liked given that Dean snorted in response. Despite that, Harry was glad that there was at least one person on this team who was militantly zealous about Quidditch. Jimmy and Ritchie were both half-asleep on their feet by the looks of them.
"Get it together people!" Harry called with exasperated fondness in his voice.
Once silence and alertness had returned, Harry continued his pacing in front of them. The lawn of the Quidditch pitch crunched rhythmically under his feet, and the rising sun at his back served to fill him with purpose. It was hard to believe he'd only woken up fifteen minutes ago with the energy he could feel in his limbs. There was nothing quite like Quidditch for awakening his senses.
"I'm not Oliver – long speeches are for game-day, and when I say long, I mean maybe two minutes max," Harry said with a chuckle to himself. One practice he'd came early to in third year resulted in him finding Oliver frantically scribbling on a piece of parchment. He'd had the feeling it hadn't been homework when Oliver had then talked at them for ten minutes straight before practice.
"I'm not Angelina either," Harry said, "so I'm not going to run you ragged over Ravenclaw because as Ginny said…"
He nodded to the team.
"They don't stand a chance!" They roared back at him.
"Exactly," Harry said with a grin. He nodded to Jimmy and Ritchie who were now stood ramrod straight. "Good to see you with us."
Ritchie rubbed the sleep out of his right eye in response.
"I didn't know Wood or Johnson, but they couldn't have been crazy enough to start practice at five," Jimmy grumbled.
"Four in the morning in the middle of thunderstorms," Katie said, eyes closed and smiling with a sort of dissonant serenity. Harry almost bought it if he couldn't make out her teeth biting her bottom lip in tortured remembrance.
"No way," Ritchie gasped.
Katie nodded. "You have no idea just how lucky you are."
With a smile at Jimmy who looked far too alert to be comfortable, Harry stroked his chin in deep thought. "It's an idea for next year."
"Let's start before Harry decides we're doing Oliver's favourite – dawn till dusk drills," Katie snapped.
"What? Really?" Harry asked.
He remembered the 6 till noon drills, but not that.
At Harry's bewildered expression, Katie sighed. "With nothing in your stomach, dawn till lunch may as well be a lifetime."
"Let's start," Demelza murmured, already mounting her broom and flying towards the eastern hoops.
The first two hours were spent with him observing manoeuvres, practicing set-pieces and various formations. It was as they'd earlier said: Ravenclaw stood no chance. If Ginny, Demelza and Dean had been great, Ginny, Demelza and Katie were near flawless, a well-oiled machine despite Katie's off-hand comment to Dean that she was feeling green. Going by Dean's increasingly brittle smile as practice went on, and the original trio continued to outmatch his inclusion, he wasn't altogether pleased.
Then it came time for his inclusion as Seeker, and it was over.
Could he call what he'd been doing before Quidditch? Sure, but it just paled in comparison to this experience. Crisp. Unfiltered. Everything within Harry's sight could be seen with the greatest fidelity; the lightning quick flutter of the Snitch's wings was visible for a moment at the hoops from the commentator booth, well over hundred and fifty yards, and he was off. As Harry shot off in its direction, eyes failing to lose its erratic, lightning-fast motions, he felt it was almost like cheating. Yet as he returned to the team, snitch in hand, triumphant and red-faced with excitement, he decided that he deserved maybe a little cheating on his side for once.
He'd been toying with trying Seeker strategies where he acted as a 4th Chaser to throw a spanner into the works for Ravenclaw's strategising, but with his eyesight this good was there a point?
"Brilliant!" Katie cried.
Demelza pumped her fists in the air, dropping her broom onto the grass in the process. "We've got this in the bag," she said, eyes closed in bliss. "We can't lose!"
Harry playfully patted Demelza on the shoulder as he passed her, and she latched onto him with a squeal.
"What about the rest of us?" Dean joked.
"Try not to make Chang cry too much, Harry," Ginny said with a hearty laugh. Her laughter deepened at Harry's pathetic attempts to pry Demelza off his side.
"Oi, Demelza," he grunted.
"Right, sorry," she said, almost falling over her broom as she backed away.
Katie shook her head disbelieving. "You're meant to be the serious one."
"Now, with regards to Cho," Harry began, wearing a grin so broad his mouth ached as he approached Ginny. He pulled her in for a firm kiss. She was a pretty pink as he pulled away, noticing that Dean was determinedly not looking in their direction. Feeling a little insensitive, he tempered down the no-doubt flirty tone he'd taken.
"No promises, Gin," he said, painfully flat.
Ron flew down to meet them, grinning equally as broad. "Will we be dedicating our trophy to Zabini?"
Harry waved his hand in dismissal. "Not dedication."
"An honourable mention, I think," Ginny replied with a smirk. "We'd win handily without Harry's uncanny vision anyway."
"But now it's guaranteed," Demelza said in ecstasy, looking skyward with her features lax.
"It's like you and treacle tart," Ron said with a bewildered askance look at Demelza.
Ritchie and Jimmy wandered down after Ron. Their descent was more haphazard on Jimmy's part, what with the bludger visibly fighting the harsh embrace of Jimmy's burly arms. Seeming to not notice his fellow Beater's struggles, Ritchie instead stared at Harry with a blindsided scrunch to his thin face. "How?!"
"How is a good question," Dean said, staring at Harry. "What the fuck was that?"
Katie snorted and turned to help Jimmy who was now rolling on the floor with the bludger next to the open balls case. Going by the harsh red of his tanned skin as he slammed the ball into place, it hadn't been going well. Katie latched it into place with a low murmur at her teammate.
"Language," Ron said primly. "We have children here." He looked at Demelza who was performing an awkward two-step with herself.
"Sorry," Dean said with an easy smile at Ron. "But seriously, Harry, what was that?"
Harry was honestly impressed with how nonchalant Dean had been acting this morning about everything. It only made him feel guiltier, remembering the awkward brusqueness he'd treated Dean with when he was with Ginny.
"20/20 vision?" He offered.
Dean snorted. "20/20 is average. That was like… 20/1 vision."
Harry nodded, not really knowing what 20/1 vision was.
"You can see at twenty meters what the average person can see at one meter," Dean explained to him. At Harry's dawning understanding, he shrugged. "My stepfather's an optician."
There was a sea of confused faces at their conversation.
"What are you talking about?" Ron asked impatiently.
"Muggle stuff," Dean said with the air of someone imparting grave news.
There was suddenly a lot less interest.
Katie returned with Jimmy in tow, a companionable arm around his shoulders. He looked knackered. "I get the feeling that Harry's vision is now a medical marvel in both the non-magical and magical worlds," Katie said. "You have to tell me the story behind that."
"Who cares?! We're going to win!" Demelza sang.
Katie gave Demelza a little smile. "It's Ravenclaw, not the Irish national team," she said gently. Even coming from Katie, kind as anyone Harry had ever met, it seemed a little snide. He didn't disagree though.
Surveying the pitch around him, his team sprawled across the pitch chatting absently, he wondered if they should even bother using the last hour of their time slot. Harry marvelled that his new eyesight was like going from the Nimbus 2000 to the Firebolt all over again. Ravenclaw really didn't stand a chance.
As Harry entered the common room, Quidditch high still burning strong, Ron turned in his chair to give Harry a dark look around the edges of the book he'd engrossed himself in - a disturbing tome entitled Illuminating the Inferius. It had vivid descriptions and anatomical illustrations of Inferi, with particular focus on setting them on fire. Harry had had a quick flick through it after Flitwick's detention and had concluded that, like Daphne, the author was obsessed with fire. Maybe he'd recommend it to her.
"Took your time," Ron said, still looking significantly at Harry.
Harry just shrugged. He wasn't exactly sure how he'd spin that he was trying to avoid both Ginny and Dean by drowning himself in the shower.
Harry wasn't entirely sure why Ron was looking at him until he looked past him to the armchair opposite. Dean was sat there with Seamus on the couch to the left, staring absently into the fire and adamantly not making eye contact with Harry. It was probably a bad idea, but Harry wanted to clear the air. He liked Dean, and he thought that the odds of him joining the DA would be higher if things between them were less well… awkward. "Good practice," Harry said as a peace offering.
Dean finally looked at him. "Yeah."
Harry hadn't planned far enough to think of what to say next. The blankness from Dean, in comparison with his usual sunny disposition, didn't exactly fill him with confidence.
The rustling of Ron loudly turning pages broke the tension.
"Good book, Ron?" Seamus asked.
"Oh yeah," Ron said with a shit-eating grin. "Never knew you could burn an Inferius in so many ways."
Seamus grimaced.
"Forget I asked," Seamus said.
The silence thickened as Harry tried to think of how to broach the whole topic of "hey I'm with your ex but that's okay, okay?".
Seamus looked askance at Dean with clear amusement. He clearly was relishing the awkwardness.
"I've been a bit of a cock to you in the past, Harry," Seamus said with a smirk. "Sorry about that."
Harry waved his hand dismissively. It was in the past.
"Let me help you out here," Seamus added before he turned to face Dean. "Good practice, Dean? You've been whining up a storm about it being back to the benches with you."
Dean just sighed, and Ron turned another page in his book. Going by the growing red of Ron's ears, he was embarrassed by proxy.
If not for Seamus' help, Harry would be inclined to say he regretted even trying. "If that's what's got you down, Dean," Harry said, "you just need to remember that you played a really important role getting us here. We couldn't have done it without you."
Dean's didn't exactly smile, but his ensuing nod gave Harry a little more confidence.
"It's just that it's the last match, and it'd be a shame if Katie didn't get to play as it's her final year. Think of it this way, unless there's some prodigy in the wings, you're a shoe-in for next year."
"I get it, Harry," Dean said. "Still sucks."
"And if there is a little prodigy in the wings, I have a Confundus waiting for them," Seamus said.
Harry joined in the ensuing laughter half-heartedly. It felt like he and Hermione would go to the grave with that secret. Once it died down, and he felt that he'd softened the blow from Katie's return, he explained his intention to revive the DA. He'd not even finished when Dean interrupted him.
"Definitely," Dean said with a vigorous nod.
"You were a good teacher," Seamus said.
"What's this I'm hearing about Harry teaching?" a girly voice asked from the other side of the common room.
Harry's first instinct was Romilda Vane, but it was a second year who Harry couldn't name for the life of him.
"Shite," Seamus muttered.
Ron turned another page as chaos erupted. Harry at least hoped it really was a good book. It seemed everyone in Gryffindor common room was interested, and they were in a rush to let Harry know.
"I'd love to learn from you!" one first year boy shrieked.
Harry didn't remember his voice being that high when he was in first year.
"Better you than Snape!"
"He's fought You-Know-Who. Potter must know more than Snape!"
Harry sighed. "Most of that was luck."
Romilda pushed her way to the front. "So humble," she gushed, as she threw her hair over her shoulder. "Isn't he?"
There was an ensuing sigh from some of the girls, and Harry twitched when he heard someone mumble "his eyes" with longing. Ron looked up at him and mouthed "his eyes" back, and Harry just shook his head violently in disbelief.
"So, Harry, when do you teach. Can I come?" Romilda asked, batting her eyelashes.
It was so transparently meant to be seductive, but Harry stared blankly at her. When would she ever take a hint? Looking down at Dean and Seamus, he found them both in hysterics. Where was Ginny?
"Romilda," Harry said for what had to have been the third time in the last 48 hours. "I'm with Ginny."
Dean's laughter abruptly stopped.
"Oi!" Ron snapped over the increasingly raucous laughter and increasing demands of tutelage. He waved his book, showing a particularly macabre illustration of a desiccated Inferius. There were several screams and retches from the crowd. "Prefect here and very fond of giving detentions with Filch!"
"You can do that?" Parvati asked from her table seat with Lavender and several seventh years.
"Try me," Ron said. His voice was filled with only promise. "The trophy room has been immaculate this year. What's another two months?"
As they scattered in wake of Ron's threat, Harry just about heard him muttering under his breath. "Though that's more due to how quick to assigning detention Malfoy and Parkinson are."
"See you around Harry," Romilda said with what she must have assumed to be a sensual smile.
She wasn't ugly, not at all, but Harry had never found desperation attractive.
"You're still going to teach us!" Someone shouted, and there was a resounding chatter that left Harry with the impression that this was only the beginning.
"Cheers, mate," Harry said to Ron as he slumped onto a cushion on the floor.
He drew his wand from his pocket and cast a muffliato. He wasn't about to make the same mistake twice.
Ron nodded. He turned a page and disappeared back behind his book.
Dean was grinning down at him, as he continued to chortle with Seamus, with one eye on Romilda. She seemed to be sashaying away.
"Not very good at managing crowds, Harry," Dean said.
"Two out of ten," Seamus offered.
"Funny," Harry said, staring at the ceiling. He could hear people still talking about the possibility of being taught by the Chosen One. He hadn't thought it was possible to be able to hear italics, but Harry had learnt otherwise.
Taking in the grin still present on Dean's face out of the corner of his eye, Harry just took a chance.
"So we're good, Dean?"
"Yeah, there's no need to make yourself out to be a martyr though," Dean said. He made it out to be an offhand comment, but his irritation was clear by the hand he'd had nestled at his cheek falling to the arm of his chair with a smack. "It's not always about you, you know?"
It was jarring for Harry to hear Dean sounding so bitter, but his comment poked at a part of Harry that had always been too vulnerable. He turned to face Dean. "How am I being a martyr?" He asked, feeling his tone heating with each word.
Ron, hearing the danger in Harry's tone, wisely tried to interject. "Hey, no one's saying you're being a martyr. Right, Dean?"
Seamus snorted. "Let him talk, Ron."
"Of course he's being a martyr," Dean spat. He gestured angrily at Harry. "His first instinct is to act like me being mad at him is this massive… surprise! You'd think I've been pissed at Harry for weeks!"
"I was just trying to fix things," Harry spat back.
"Well, this could have all been avoided if you'd just waited," Seamus pointed out.
"How would that have changed anything?" Harry asked in retort, regretting it even as the words left his mouth.
He really was a prat. "Effing hell," Seamus muttered.
Ron closed his eyes as if Harry's every word pained him.
Meanwhile, Dean sighed.
"Unbelievable," Dean mumbled and he gave Harry a flinty look. "I just need time, alright? It was stupid of me to have gotten with Ginny in the first place when she was so transparently pining for you. I appreciate you're trying to fix things, but I'm allowed to be mad. Ginny… I'd just hoped... Never mind."
"Dean, we'll come back later when Harry's Confundus has worn off," Seamus said amicably, giving Harry a nod. It was a strange inversion of the peace making that Dean had had to do on Harry's behalf last year when Seamus had refused to believe him about Voldemort.
"About the DA though, let me know when we meet," Dean said.
"Will do," Ron said after them.
They exited through the portrait hole in low conversation.
"That could have gone better," Ron said. He brought his head into his hands with a gusty sigh. "You really uh… bollocksed that one right up, Harry! Good thing Dean's easy-going. Anyone else and bloody hell…"
Harry grunted. "Do you agree with him?"
Ron put his book down on his lap. "About you being a martyr?" His gaze became a little distant as if he were looking at Harry through a foggy glass. "Yeah... yeah, I agree."
It was a blow to Harry's gut to hear Ron of all people confirm it, but he couldn't muster that quick-fire anger. It wasn't often that Ron called out Harry. That had always been more of Hermione's thing.
"How?" He mumbled.
"He and Ginny only broke up... four days ago? Is it any bloody surprise that he doesn't want to see you and Ginny together?" Ron shook his head with a smile, almost sage-like. With his sudden show of wisdom, Harry could almost believe that he and Hermione had navigated a tempestuous marriage rather than a friendship that had only turned romantic in the last two days.
"I guess not," Harry said, "but... I just wanted to... you know, clear the air before we start up the DA again."
Ron shook his head.
"Approaching him like you did just makes it seem you want to make yourself feel better than make him feel better. If you really cared, you'd have spoken to him before you got with Ginny."
"She doesn't belong to him."
Ron snorted. "Of course not, but you know Dean. He'd have gotten over it by himself."
Harry just sighed. Ron was right.
"Look at you, Ron," Harry joked. "Day two of being with Hermione and you're already an expert in all matters of diplomacy."
Ron nodded vigorously. "It takes a great degree of talent to get with the same girl you've spent the last six years calling a know-it-all at least twice a week."
"I'd say I won't tell Hermione, but you'll probably tell her soon enough."
Ron winked at Harry. "You know it."
His face pinched in the way it did when he was being serious, and Harry nodded at him in anticipation of what he had to say.
"Just a… word to the wise, Harry," Ron said, sounding uncharacteristically cautious.
"What is it?"
"Not everyone is like Zabini, you know? Dean isn't the type that needs their emotions to be, uh, carefully managed."
Harry closed his eyes and internally cursed at the strangeness of Ron suddenly being this insightful, tactful person. He was right though: Harry had been treating Dean like he was sensitive when he was far from it.
"One more piece of advice," Ron said in a rush.
Harry nodded. "Go on."
"Stop acting like you're sorry to be with my sister," he said. "You don't need Dean's permission."
Harry didn't know how to articulate that he was conflicted because he was certain he had a crush on Blaise of all people, so he just avoided the topic entirely.
"Just yours," Harry said.
Ron snorted. "You're getting it!"
"Can I ask one question though?" Harry asked.
Ron laughed. "After that disaster, to quote Zabini, I encourage you to ask as many as you can."
Harry frowned, not even wanting to dwell on Blaise right now. "Yeah, yeah… anyway, do you know why Dean and Ginny broke up?"
"Something about Dean trying to help her through the portrait hole and that being the last straw?" Ron asked rhetorically before simply shrugging. "You're better off asking Hermione…"
Harry imagined that he and Ron shared an equally confused twist to their face. While Ron's was purely out of confusion at the situation, Harry's was at the dawning realisation that he was the catalyst for their break-up to begin with.
"Girls, you know?" Ron added half-heartedly.
"Girls," Harry said, just as cagey.
He'd been feeling guilty before, but now he was practically swimming in it.
"Chess?"
Ron sighed in relief.
"Never thought you'd ask. This studying to beat Death Eaters and other evil gits needs to be spaced out."
"Don't let Hermione hear you say that," Harry said in a quiet whisper.
Ron jolted upright, looking towards the portrait hole, as if he may have summoned her with his lax attitude.
"She's in the library," Ron said with the certainty of it being cold in a Scottish winter. He relaxed back into his armchair. "Said something about needing to research something."
"I think we need an agenda of what to discuss before we even set a date for a meeting," Hermione said.
"Let's start with the agenda then," Ron said. He turned to Harry with a grin on his face. "The agenda, Harry. What are we aiming to accomplish here?"
Harry cleared his throat. He'd given this a lot of thought, and he wasn't about to let Hermione's ensuing eye roll at his prolonged silence deter him. Besides, Ginny was watching him earnestly.
"I was thinking that, at least at the surface, we provide a place for students to learn to defend themselves. Build up goodwill and all that. This won't be as discreet as the DA was, but I want to at least have the regulars at the first meeting before we make it public. We should try and bring other able people into the fold. People we can trust with a wand to have our backs."
"The fold," Hermione repeated. "You make it sound like a cult."
"The elite few?" Harry offered with a shrug.
Ron stroked his chin. "A bit high-brow for what we're offering. How about the inner circle?" Ron asked.
"Death Eaters ring a bell?" Ginny asked. She gave Harry a smirk. "I don't think they're the type of people that Harry can rely on in a tough spot."
Hermione cleared her throat.
"I've been in the library, researching," Hermione began in a rush.
Harry nodded encouragingly.
"I thought it'd be a good idea to formalise what we're aiming to accomplish." She stopped to eye them all seriously. "Beyond Vol-Voldemort, what do we want to do?"
"He's just the beginning," Ron muttered.
"Ron?" Ginny asked.
"Me and Hermione have been talking. You-Know-Who didn't appear out of nowhere. He wouldn't exist if there wasn't a large number of powerful blood purists who provide him with essential support. Say Harry beats him again – I bet ten galleons that Malfoy's Death Eater dad will be walking free again claiming Imperius and funding laws to remove rights from non-humans and Muggleborns."
"And Malfoy," Harry added.
Harry really needed to get back into his habit of tracking him.
"How do you expect us to change society?" Ginny asked.
Ron shrugged. "Kind of hoping Hermione would have an idea that doesn't involve installing Harry as Minister."
"Absolutely not," Harry spat.
"There goes plan A," Hermione said wearily.
At Harry's ensuing disgusted expression, she lifted her hands up in surrender.
"Just joking," she muttered.
"You've made a revolutionary out of Ron," Ginny said in an awed murmur. "No wonder he's been reading so much."
"Reformer," Hermione corrected with a devious smile. "Anyway, I've been looking up magical bindings."
She fished a massive primer from her bookbag. Darrow's Dictionary of Magical Bindings.
"This book contains pretty much every form of magical contract, binding or bond used in wanded cultures. I found it in fourth year when I was researching ways to break Harry's contract with the goblet. It's filled with a ton of bindings that are illegal – blood magic, soul magic or magic that requires Ministry permission to perform. It was difficult to find one that didn't fall under the purview of the Ministry or the ICW."
She turned to a page marked with a pommel bookmark. The Treaty of Fellowship.
"A guild?" Ginny asked immediately after seeing the title.
Hermione nodded.
Ginny smiled, eyes skyward in remembrance. "Bill used to tell me about all the oaths he had to swear to join his curse-breaker guild. Mum refused to let him tell me any exciting stories about curse-breaking when I was young, so he'd talk about oaths when she was around."
"What's a guild?" Harry asked.
"They're similar to Muggle guilds," Hermione offered. At Harry's shrug of confusion, she continued. "They're an association made up of people with a shared trade or skill that seek, through collaboration, to advance and protect their practice. Probably the most famous existing guild – there's not many left - is the Chronomancy guild in Switzerland. They fund themselves by creating timepieces, and they're one of the few independent entities to have ICW permission to explore time magic. Time turners were a collaboration between the Department of Mysteries and them.
"You need a guildhall to even invoke the treaty," Ginny said, shaking her head, "and it can't be any old place. You need to perform all sorts of rituals for the Treaty to accept the building."
Hermione deflated for a second, but she looked at Harry triumphantly.
"Grimmauld Place?"
"Before I put Sirius' place in the mix, what advantages does a guild even offer? I've been in a magical contract. I'd like to avoid getting myself into another.
"It's mostly just a way for us to consolidate," Hermione said with a shrug. "How useful it will be is how we decide – the workings and finer idiosyncrasies of guilds are deeply guarded. I was thinking Harry should at least have a warded location to go to that is unknown to everyone if the Ministry falls in the summer."
Ginny clapped her hands in understanding. "Bill was always complaining that his guildmaster could just apparate straight through the wards, while everyone else had to apparate to the boundaries."
"Exactly," Hermione said with a smile. "There's obviously more we can do with the idea of a guild but that was my primary idea."
"This summer though?" Ginny asked. "Dad's been saying things are tense, but you really think Scrimgeour will be out this summer?"
"It's what I'd do," Hermione muttered.
The ensuing quiet was a bit oppressive. It was difficult to appreciate that things were so precarious, and that hibernating streak of resentment towards Dumbledore rose to the fore. Swallowing it down with difficulty, Harry gave Hermione a nod in acknowledgement at her intuitions.
"I don't disagree, Hermione, but let's not get ahead of ourselves with speculation," Harry said. He couldn't find anything wrong with what she said, but they needed to stay on track. "Focus on guilds for now. I should probably read up and practice warding – my guess is that as guildmaster I'd have to be the one to erect the wards?"
Ginny and Hermione nodded as one.
"It's almost as if by being guildmaster, you're almost the guildhall too? At least that's the only way I can make sense of being able to bypass the wards," Ron said quietly to himself.
Hermione hummed under her breath. "That does make sense considering the death of the guildmaster or destruction of the lodestone dissolve the guild."
Harry turned to Ginny. "The oaths? How strict are they?"
"The oaths are quite weak, Harry," Ginny explained. "There's no threat of losing your magic or life. You just swear to uphold the goals of the guild, to the mutual protection of the guild's ideals and your fellows, and to the protection of the guildhall and its chapterhouses. Apparently, it's like a weak compulsion charm."
Hermione nodded happily. "Exactly."
"I must have missed all these conversations with Bill," Ron said, audibly impressed.
"You were typically stuffing your face," Ginny said. "'Pass the mash, mum!'"
It was a rather convincing impression of Ron. Harry and Hermione laughed while Ron muttered something under his breath about good mash.
"So, what are the consequences, Ms Guild?" Ron asked after the laughter had died down.
"You can't leave a guild unless expelled by the guildmaster or you invoke the Mutual Annulment of Fellowship. As I said, we need a guild hall. There's three rituals that I know we need to do – the Rite of Renewal, Rite of Pledging and the Sacrosanct of Oaths," Ginny explained.
"We'll have to learn how to do a Fidelius," Hermione groaned, slapping her forehead in frustration. "The Rite of Renewal nulls all existing magical enchantments on a dwelling."
"You're getting ahead of yourself again, Hermione," Harry said before she started thinking a mile a minute. "Let's keep it simple for now."
He looked around at the others in question. "So, just to be sure. I'd be the guildmaster?"
"Stupid question, mate," Ron chided.
"You, silly," Ginny said with a playful wink.
Harry accepted it without any fanfare. He'd expected it.
"Fine," Harry said.
He wasn't entirely sold on the idea, but it held some merit. Eyeing Hermione's book, he resolved to do some private reading later.
"On the topic of keeping it simple," Harry continued. "Plans for the DA. We're going to meet next week. Not everyone – just the Ministry gang, so us, Luna and Neville.
"Where? The Room of Requirement is out of action," Ron said.
Pre-empting Ginny's questions, Harry explained the situation with Malfoy. She nodded grimly and looked away in deep thought.
"The Chamber," Harry said.
There was nowhere as secure.
"Are you sure?" Ron asked, transparent concern in his eyes.
Harry wasn't sure whether he was asking him or Ginny.
"It's fine, right?" Harry said, looking at Ginny in question.
Ginny nodded stiffly. "I'll be fine."
The rest of the weekend passed in a whirlwind of activity. It seemed everyone was planning, though it was difficult to tell the difference in Hermione's routine. It was Ron who continued to surprise Harry. Every time Harry seemed to see Ron, he seemed to have his eyes staring into the distance in thought, a book in his lap or his wand in hand, muttering incantations under his breath. Harry would have been concerned if it weren't for the infrequent breaks Ron would take to play chess.
On Sunday evening he found himself in the library, alone, after Hermione and Ron had left for their patrol. He found himself reading The Intrepid Duellist's Essentials again.
The Stability charm, firmus, has been banned in most duelling circuits for close to four centuries. The official, historical reasoning was that judges of the 16th century took the view that maintaining one's footing was just as important as one's mastery of magic. Though, this must be contextualised with the fact that European wizards in the Intrigue era, particularly those of nobility, were expected to have more than a passing familiarity with the blade.
Nowadays, the ban is maintained purely due to legacy. There have been many debates within the duelling community as to the effectiveness of the ban with the rising popularity of pressure-based adhesives in shoe soles. The last time the ban was appealed was in 1987 when Hanson Pennock, noted transfiguration master, infamously lost to novice duellist, Irma Schulze, by slipping in a slick of oil he'd himself conjured.
"Harry."
Harry looked up, finding Blaise looking down at him, and he nodded in response. His swallow before he spoke sounded unnervingly loud to himself. "Evening, Blaise. Good weekend?"
Blaise sighed before taking Hermione's empty seat opposite him, dumping a sheaf of parchment on the table as he did so. "It was uneventful and peaceful. Perfect. Now with you here..."
"Are you calling me trouble?"
Blaise shrugged. "If it walks like a duck…"
"It quacks like a duck," Harry completed.
He tilted his head in the direction of Blaise's robes. "Robes on the weekend?"
"I'm brewing potions for Slughorn in - " Blaise glanced down at his watch and a frown appeared. "Ten minutes. There go my hopes of drafting my Arithmancy assignment."
The Slytherin pushed the parchment into the middle of the table and eyed him curiously. "In the library without Granger and Weasley?"
"Hermione and Ron," Harry corrected.
Blaise shrugged helplessly. "It's just weird. Ron and Hermione. See?"
It sounded perfectly normal to Harry. Obviously, it wasn't as good as hearing his own name from Blaise's lips, but…
Harry latched onto the mention of Slughorn earlier. "Why are you brewing with Slughorn?"
"Detention for receiving cursed mail," Blaise said.
Repeating the words to himself, Harry decided that didn't make any sense at all. He remembered Hermione's altercation with her hate mail all too well. Was this somehow connected to him?
"You're being punished for receiving cursed mail? Who sent it?" Harry asked, bewildered.
How did something like this just go unnoticed? All of the castle had known about Hermione's hate mail in fourth year.
Blaise just shrugged. "My mother."
"I see," Harry said, nodding to himself as if that was an expected reply. "That makes perfect sense."
Blaise just snorted and a tiny smile finally appeared on his lips. "I'd been warned about it before. My mother always curses her letters, and it hadn't been a problem until Filch managed to burn himself twice handling my letters, even with Aurors screening the mail."
"Oh," Harry said, suddenly underwhelmed. He was hoping this would lead to some insight about what he was slowly starting to suspect was a dysfunctional relationship. "Your mother curses the letters she sends you. Why?"
"She's a bit sadistic when it comes to those who attempt to violate her privacy," Blaise explained.
Harry thinks of Aunt Petunia, leering through curtains at her neighbours, searching for a flaw, any flaw. He thinks of his own life under endless scrutiny. The prospect of being vindictive was certainly attractive, but it did little to assuage Harry's suspicions about Blaise's mother. Harry had so many questions. He wanted so many answers. Blaise may mock his curiosity, but Harry had enough tact to not broach this topic, especially after Ginny's goading on Thursday. Not yet anyway. It wasn't like he deserved answers. Still, other things swam in his mind; primarily, Blaise's father and his wands. He'd learned that Slytherins were far too three-dimensional for his own good.
"Enough about that," Harry said. "Have you spoken to your... friends about the DA?" Harry ignored the immediate irritation that arose with thinking of Blaise in a sexual light with anyone.
Blaise sighed. "It's not like that. Really. It was just a joke."
Harry looked at him disbelieving.
"Okay, that lie sounded better in my head," Blaise admitted with a chuckle. "Padma, Terry, and Susan are all interested. Tracey plans on speaking to Jones in Hufflepuff, and Daphne will do all she can to convince MacDougal. She has the best chance of any of us."
Tallying that up with the people that Harry and his friends had spoken to over Saturday and Sunday afternoon, they had a sizeable number interested.
"Good," Harry murmured. "Say, do you know anything about guilds?"
Blaise looked at him strangely, and he flicked his wand to raise a privacy ward. Harry helped him out with a muffliato.
"One day I'll get you to teach me that," Blaise said.
Harry relaxed back in his chair with a smirk. "One day."
"My uncle and his wife are in one – some horribly pretentious Latin name. I can't remember it off of the top of my head," Blaise explained. The only reaction to Harry's snort at Blaise thinking something was pretentious was the twitch of his lips. "He's an astronomer and she's an arithmancer – they look to advance magic by blending it with muggle advancements in science. Beyond that, no."
Harry nodded.
"Do I want to know why you're asking?" Blaise asked. He shook his head immediately. "No, of course not. Stupid question."
Harry smiled. "Not curious at all?"
Blaise glared at him, though it was betrayed by the amused tilt to his lips. "This is how you get me into your suicidal schemes, huh?"
"I think it'll be fun with extra company," Harry said.
"So… are you joining one? Is it some suicidal knightly order where you charge into battle with your wand halfway up your nose and a pair of Dumbledore's most hideous robes?"
Harry barely managed to cover his snort of laughter under a cough. "I can assure you, proper wandcare will be adhered to and the uniforms will be tasteful and designed for comfort."
Blaise looked at him in deep appraisal. "So you're making your own?"
"A bit early for that," Harry chuckled. "Maybe I'll start a guild full of all the people who owe me life debts."
"Only if I can be the esteemed treasurer," Blaise said, deadly serious. "Emphasis on esteemed."
There was definitely a potential joke there about Blaise looking to control the finances, in a similar vein to his mother, for when Harry died from an act of heroism, but he remembered his chat yesterday with Ron. Blaise was sensitive.
"Sure," Harry said with a shrug. "We'll even give you a title. Blaise Zabini, most esteemed guardian of the galleons."
Blaise dipped his head low, and he spoke with a heavily affected gravitas. "I think it'll have to grow on me, but your regard honours me."
They both laughed.
"I'll bear that in mind," Harry said. "You may want to leave if you want to make your detention."
Blaise jumped to his feet, vanished the parchment, and gave Harry a nod. "See you around, Harry."
Harry followed, seeing no reason to stay any longer in the library. As they passed the threshold of the library and into the muted torchlight of the corridor, Blaise turned to him, an eyebrow raising in question.
"We'll talk in..." Harry wracked his mind for what class they shared together on Monday. "Transfiguration."
"We'll see. Just stay away from every staircase tonight," Blaise said, a cheeky smile on his face, as he turned to go towards the dungeons. "I won't be there to help you save me from yourself this time."
"You must think you're hilarious, Blaise," Harry said.
Blaise kept on walking without missing a beat. "I'm gifted in a number of areas."
"One of them is being a bastard," Harry called after him.
"My parents were married. Try again, Harry!"
"That's your gift, Blaise," Harry said. "You still manage to be a bastard despite that."
The sound of Blaise's laughter echoed down the corridor. Harry thought only of Ginny, as he watched the tall Slytherin walk away. It mostly worked.