"The fertilisation charm is one of the most important spells you will learn in this class. As you can imagine, it is essential to the practice of Herbology. But remember children: such spells placed on soils devoid of magic will contaminate them and attract magical creatures to muggle lands. Such an act is considered muggle baiting and - unless you have a special authorisation - it was made illegal by the ICW. Yes, Miss Granger?"

"Is that why wixen don't try to solve muggle poverty?"

"It is one of the reasons, yes. We could make more land habitable for muggles but it would come at the cost of attracting beings like trolls and gnomes to their villages, which would both endanger them and the Statute of Secrecy. Besides, muggles' problems with poverty do not come from a lack of resources but from a bad repartition of what they have. It is not our place to command how they organise their society. Though we live in the same countries, we are not citizens of the same nations."

Hermione seemed ready to ask another question - probably about what her own status as a muggleborn means in terms of her responsibility to help muggles when a simple quirk of genetics gave her the privilege of living in a post-scarcity society - but professor Sprout shook her head.

"This subject is part of the fifth-year History of Magic curriculum, I believe. I know it's in a long time but you will have more opportunity to learn about the topic in depth then, with a professor that is more qualified to teach it to you. Let's go back to our lesson. As I was saying…"

Neville offered a sympathetic grin at his friend's downtrodden expression. It would have been rude to point out but professor Binns was a bit underwhelming in truth, and the idea of waiting another three years to talk about it was too much for his passionate friend.

"We can go to the library and do some research if you want," he whispered over his shoulder.

"Can I come with you?" asked Justin Finch-Fletchley, leaning forward. "I have a free period."

They had Herbology with the Hufflepuffs this year, and though Neville missed Harry, he was glad to share his favourite class with Hannah and Susan. Besides, Justin, his class partner for this year wasn't so bad.

"Sure. You're interested in the subject?"

Justin gestured for them to talk at the end of class. When the hour was over, they headed outside the greenhouse together. Neville waved at Susan and Hannah, who went in the other direction while they headed toward the library.

"I am interested, yeah. Professor McGonagall explained when she gave me my Hogwarts letter that I'd essentially have dual citizenship with the British magical enclave and the British government, but I hadn't really thought about what that meant. My parents are businesspeople and I wanted to work in the family business - my older sister will inherit but still -, so I'm planning to open a branch of their company in the magical world. And if that branch could also provide services for muggles, well. That would be grand, wouldn't it?"

Ron looked at him dubiously.

"You speak like a bloody Slytherin."

Neville thought he mostly talked like a rich kid, but he didn't voice it aloud. Ron had been a bit quieter about his disdain for the house of snakes since they'd seen that first year get tripped in the great hall but still, his misgivings about Slytherin were not worth getting into another argument. Especially since Ron was a bit sensitive about his financial situation. Unlike his best friend, Neville had tact.

Still, he wished his friend would - not get over it, exactly, but maybe learn to relativise. Most of the students at Hogwarts were either wealthy - since the tuition was so high -, or children of intermediate to high-ranked ministry workers. The only exception to that rule were muggle-borns, who were chosen among the ones who had had the most notable demonstrations of accidental magic in their childhood. Others were all taught in smaller state schools, considered less prestigious though no less effective at teaching magic. This meant that Ron was surrounded by well-off children for most of the year, it was frustrating to see him scoff at them for being posh. As far as he was aware, Fred and George weren't bothered about it like he was.

Justin chuckled.

"Just because you're in one House doesn't mean you don't have the quality for another. I just value hard work more than ambition. Or so the Hat said."

"Right!" said Hermione. "The Hat wanted me in Ravenclaw but he said my sense of justice was stronger than my desire to learn."

The Hufflepuff whistled.

"It must be incredibly strong then."

"I just came back from the quidditch pitch, if you must know," said a snide voice in the distance with a tone he recognised all too well.

Neville suppressed a sigh.

"Who asked you, Malfoy?" asked Harry, sounding as tired as Neville felt.

"Flint says our team will definitely win the Cup this year now that we have a more competent seeker."

"How would you even know you're more competent than Harry, you had to bribe the team to kick him off," said Davies.

"Are you sure you're qualified to speak about competence, Davies?" simpered Perks. "It's not like you have any talent whatsoever."

"Because you do?" asked Daphne with an incredulous look.

"Tracey's worth ten of you, Perks. Now if you could stop wasting our time…"

"But I needed to tell you everything about my first practise Potter. I have to share the experience with my predecessor, after all. It's only polite."

"Oh, I see how it is," said Nott, eyes widening like he'd had a revelation. "I thought you were coming here to brag, but that's not it, is it? You did so badly that Flint threatened to kick you off despite the fact that you're Allied and you're trying to get Harry to cough up some tips. Because your bribe covers your admittance to the team, but not the guarantee that you'll stay on it. If you fail even one match…"

Zabini, Davies and Greengrass snickered at that, though Harry was still too sore about the subject to do more than smile tightly. Neville wished he knew how to get him his spot back.

"Are they always like this?" asked Justin as they strolled into the library.

Unfortunately, the only empty spaces were next to their Slytherin yearmates. It wasn't that Neville didn't want to be close to Harry - he always welcomed spending time with his godbrother - but he could have done without Malfoy's antagonism for at least a day.

Madam Pince was already eyeing the group with a hawk-like gaze, waiting for them to speak even a decibel higher than authorised.

"Malfoy's group is, yeah," confirmed Hermione.

Neville nodded.

"Harry never provokes him. The prat's been harassing him since they got Sorted in the same House. He and his goons started doing the same to me after we became friends too, as a way to get back to him. That's mostly because Harry has an older cousin who's a prefect so she doesn't let anyone bully him. I don't have that luxury."

Justin shook his head.

"I knew he was a piece of work, but I didn't know it was to this point."

Neville grimaced. The Hufflepuff had spoken too loudly.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood!" snapped Malfoy.

Gasps resonated into the silent library, and it took only a second before wands were drawn. Ron threw the first spell, and Greengrass was next. Neville's best friend's wand had been wonky since their encounter with the Whomping Willow and it backfired on him; he had to hold his friend back as he started vomiting slugs. Malfoy didn't have the time to sneer before Greengrass' spell hit and hexed him bald.

Neville choked on a laugh, and the others followed. Even Ron sketched out a smile before vomiting again.

"Duelling! In my library!" roared Madam Pince. "Detention, all of you!"

Moments later, after an excruciating lecture from the librarian, they were out again.

"You'll pay for that, Greengrass," hissed Parkinson before following Malfoy out of the corridor, hissing and spitting curses at Harry's group.

Greengrass faked a yawn.

"Come on, let's get Weasley to the infirmary."

"Sorry about the research, Hermione," murmured Neville as they walked up the stairs leading to Madam Pomphrey's territory. Nott had conjured a bucket for Ron to vomit in and was staying next to him to hold onto it.

"It's okay," she said with a smile. "We can always go back later."

"What did it mean?" asked Justin abruptly. He was looking a little pale. "What Malfoy said."

"It's a slur used against muggle-borns. Not the kind of thing anyone wants to repeat," explained Harry with a thunderous expression.

Hermione's eyes filled with tears.

"I knew the magical world had some prejudice, like the muggle world does, it was obvious, but I didn't think it was to a point where they used slurs like - like - oh!"

She bit her lip to stop it from wobbling. Neville wanted to hug her, but he was already holding Ron. To his surprise, Greengrass and Davies beat him to it. They embraced his friend and held onto her as she sobbed. In the meantime, Harry and Zabini slowed down to stay near Justin, offering a more understated form of support.

Neville thought it was lucky they were all there while the two muggleborns heard that word for the first time. At least they didn't have to face such bigotry on their own.

The story had spread like wildfire. Soon enough, most people knew that Draco had called the Hufflepuff a slur and been cursed bald for the trouble. The students in other Houses conveniently forgot that Greengrass had been the one to curse him, focused on the fact that Draco's words proved that Slytherins were horrible, no good bigots.

Millicent didn't mind. She didn't consider herself as such but she knew that she was a bigot by the political Light's standards. She just didn't like muggles, their cities smelled unpleasant and they destroyed the planet. She had also talked to the portrait of her ancestor who had the same name as her. Millicent Bulstrode the first had been betrayed by her muggle-born friend who led her children to the slaughter during the witch trials and burnt down their ancestral mansion. Father always said it was a story to remember, so Millicent remembered it.

To be perfectly honest, she would rather ignore the muggle-borns altogether but her House wasn't strong enough for her to stand on her own so she needed Draco's protection. That meant following his whims, as ridiculous as she found them. Since she didn't want him knowing her opinion, she played dumb, imitating Vince and Greg at their lowest. She didn't mind, they were nice to her and she preferred their company to Pansy and Sally-Ann's, who were just as mean as Draco. The only inconvenient was that Vince and Greg followed Draco around all the time per the vassalage agreement between their families - which was a ridiculous thing but what else could you expect from a French House? Though the fact that the Malfoys had managed to rope in the Crabbes and Goyles into their French nonsense was pretty impressive, admittedly. This meant Millicent had to follow him too, and listen to his non-stop complaining about Potter.

Potter was an alright bloke, all things considered. He wasn't smirking at everyone like his infuriating best friend did, or looking down his nose at them like Nott. He didn't even laugh meanly instead like Greengrass and Davies. His friend group seemed to enjoy the drama, but he didn't seem to. He just looked tired everytime Draco called out to him, and like he'd rather be anywhere else. Oh, he joined in anyway, but it was obvious he didn't like the confrontation.

If you listened to Draco though, it didn't seem like it.

"... Potter just wants to make me look bad because I took his place on the team. Flint knew I was better than him, that's all. My father…"

Millicent contained a sigh. He was going to go on for a long time, she was sure.

"I heard you go around calling people mudbloods, Malfoy," drawled someone from behind her.

Draco stiffened. She turned around. Sure enough, it was Higgs and Pucey, looking pissed. She remembered the latter was a muggle-born and the Argentum Rex a squib and a muggle's son, which was hardly better. She braced herself. They were in for it.

"Hello, Ginny."

"Luna," she said warily, closing her diary.

With Morgan, Colin, Lauren and her brothers always close to her, she had barely any time or privacy to write to Tom in the Gryffindor common room and she'd found an alcove to do so peacefully at his urging. Of course, her desire for peace didn't matter to Luna. The girl watched her with her enormous dull eyes, her gaze dropping to the leather cover of Tom's diary.

"Friends in books don't make good friends," she said airily.

Ginny bristled.

"What would you know about that? You don't have friends."

She regretted her words but she couldn't bring herself to apologise. Ginny looked away.

Luna hummed. It sounded sad. A little wistful.

"You're right. I don't. I used to though."

And she walked away, barefoot. Ginny remembered times spent running in the fields without shoes, chasing after fantastical creatures even Lady Ceridwen, the enchantress and Welsh goddess of inspiration herself couldn't have dreamt up. She remembered a laugh that sounded like twinkling bells and eyes that used to sparkle with life.

She tried to pretend she didn't miss it.

"He's going where?"

"To a Death Day party organised by their House ghost," repeated Harry with a shrug, spearing a baked potato with his fork. "He says it'll take his mind off things. I don't see how being surrounded by dead people will help but well, who knows?"

Blaise shook his head, muttering in Italian something that sounded like "fuori di testa", which Harry was pretty sure meant "out of his mind". He chuckled.

"Granger and Weasley are going with them?"

"Yeah."

"I'm telling you, Harry. You're my best friend but there's nothing you could ask me that would make me go to a ghost party."

Harry laughed.

"Why not?"

"They can't taste food so they let it rot and pass through it, hoping to get some sensation out of it. It's nasty is what it is."

"Oh, wow. I can imagine."

"How do you know that?" asked Theo with a curious look.

"There's a side palace that belongs to the ghost of Principessa Calpurnia Zabini, who ruled during the seventeenth century. We don't go in there because she gives balls once a month," he explained with a grimace. "Cousin Antea had me sneak in as a dare. The smell was horrible."

"Where is the main palace, by the way?" wondered Daphne, twirling a strand of her midnight blue hair. Harry had to admit it suited her. It made her eyes seem brighter, or so Blaise and Tracey had said. He had to admit he didn't know about such things.

"It's on Aeris, a floating city on top of Napoli." His lips quirked up. "We jokingly call it Mispoli, short for Mistiki Poli."

"Isn't that Greek for Secret City?" asked Lixian Qin, one of the first years who was listening. She was the daughter of a Chinese ambassador and had rapidly become Adytia's best friend. Blaise had told him they had talked a little when she was feeling homesick, and she'd warmed up to her upperclassman a lot.

Blaise nodded.

"Not really imaginative, is it? But the city is really beautiful, and really old. We conserved most of the ancient architecture so magic permeates the walls of even the poorest streets. It has…"

Harry quietly finished his meal while he listened to his best friend answer questions about his home. Soon, the banquet was over and they were heading back to their common rooms. The Potter heir was morose, dreading the next day which was a remembrance of his parents' fate. He wished he could spend it with them.

He was taken out of his musings by a shriek.

"You killed my cat! You killed her!" screamed Argus Filch.

The students who were before them and who had hurried to see what was happening were gasping. It took a moment for Harry and his friends to see what it was about but soon they were confronted to the stiff body of Mrs Norris, a shell-shocked Neville being shaken by the caretaker, and a bloody message on the walls saying the Chamber of Secrets had been open.

The chatter, the bustle, the noise died quietly as people spotted the hanging cat staring emptily at the puddle on the floor. Then someone shouted through the quiet.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, mudbloods."

It was Draco Malfoy. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat. He didn't have the opportunity to grin long though, as his mouth filled with soap at the use of the slur, a consequence of the curse Adrian has inflicted upon him.

Harry didn't have the willpower to be amused at it.

"The Carrow twins are staring."

Gemma paused, her hand stilling where it had been running through her cousin's hair. Harry rarely let himself relax this way when it came to physical contact, as anything more than a short hug tended to make him tense up and his magic spark. Today though, he had been pushed by his friends onto Gemma's side and made to lie down with his head on her lap. Blaise had only murmured something about a nightmare before giving them privacy. Well, as much privacy as they could have in the middle of the common room. Still, considering Gemma had raised wards around the Argentum court's seating area, it was better than anywhere else.

Really, having Ulrich as family came in handy. She wondered how much she would have to bribe him to become his apprentice after Hogwarts. Who was she kidding. Harry's puppy eyes should be enough.

She'd left Terence and their lieutenants to take care of the court affairs, mainly being establishing a plan for the prejudice the attack on Filch's cat was creating against Slytherins. As if the school didn't have enough disdain for them, an idiot had to add fuel to the fire. Gemma had had to take dozens of points against people harassing the lower years and it hadn't even been two days. It was ridiculous.

"Are they now?"

"I think they want to talk to you."

"They can't. I'm the Fawley heiress, it could get them cast out of the family. The Vow of Enmity doesn't allow it."

"I know. And I'm sure they do too. I talked a little bit to Felix -Rosier, you know- and Priam Travers about their Vow of Allegiance. Priam's branch was cast out so he's not actually a member of House Travers and Felix plans to make it void when he comes of age, but they said that everyone from the Sworn Houses will be forced to fight for You-Know-Who if he comes back."

The Spinea Regina inhaled sharply.

"Why are worried about it, Harry?"

"Do you remember, in first year? When Nev' spent a few days in the infirmary."

She grimaced. She'd been curious about it like anyone else. The Boy-Who-Lived injured, the disappearance of another DADA professor and rumours about an artefact hidden inside the castle… she had wanted to ask Harry but he'd been too frantic to explain anything more than what she already knew. Learning that the artefact in question was the Philosopher's Stone explained a few things. Blaise on the other hand was too focused on cursing Longbottom's name for being a reckless idiot. Then the matter had been forgotten in favour of dealing with Headmaster Dumbledore's favouritism.

"Quirrel was possessed by You-Know-Who, according to Nev'. He was turned into a wraith that night, apparently. That's why he wanted to steal the Stone. To get his body back." He paused, looking grim. "He'll try again and there are plenty of Death Eaters free to help him. To think that some people like Felix who don't even want to follow him might also be forced to help him resurrect is… I don't like it."

"And you think the Carrow girls are the same?" she asked faintly, though her mind was reeling with the implications of what her cousin just said.

She had been only five years old when You-Know-Who was defeated and she had very few memories of what came before that. What she remembered better were the years after. The trembling hands of her mother as she held her, her father's haunted look when he mentioned a friend who died in the war. Besides Ulrich, who had smuggled muggle-borns out of the country from his residence in France and kept them all under wards until they could go back to their families, the Fawleys hadn't fought. Despite this they had still been collateral in the war. Gemma had lost an aunt to an attack on Diagon Alley, her uncle Philip's twin. She didn't remember Aunt Marian, but she knew her uncle and godfather hadn't been the same since her death. He held himself at an arm's length, hiding behind a mask of pompousness so nobody would get too close. The attack that day had been perpetrated by Alecto and Amycus Carrow, hence the Vow of Enmity. Those two were still fugitives on the continent and rumours said they were looking for a way to bring back their master. Gemma silently prayed to Arawn, god of the otherworld that they would get lost on their path.

After Aunt Marian's death, her parents had pleaded multiple times at the International Confederation of Wixen where they worked for other countries to send aid. Only France, Ireland and Portugal had answered the call, and only around the end of the war. The Dark Lord Voldemort hadn't been considered a serious threat before he'd wiped out the McKinnons, a Scottish family with many ties to the continent.

Harry didn't grow up in the aftermath of that terror, so he didn't know how horrifying such words were to her. But she could tell by the haunted look on his face that he at least felt a sliver of it. It was to be expected, she imagined. She had visited Cousin James and his wife; she knew how chilling the sight of their empty gazes was.

Her cousin wasn't scared though, not like she was at the idea of another war. He was furious. His hand was twitching, itching for his wand, and his back tensed minutely at the idea of it. Still, his expression was solemn, focused on the problem at hand.

"I don't know. Probably not, or they would have tried to join the Light faction. But maybe they're angling for something else?"

"Something we could bargain to stop them from participating in an upcoming war? I doubt it, Cousin. As long as Amycus, Alecto, and Scylla Carrow live, their House will follow You-Know-Who."

Harry frowned unhappily before he sighed.

"I guess you're right. The timing is suspicious anyway."

Gemma nodded.

"Right after that horrid message being painted on the wall. I don't think it's a coincidence. Everyone knows You-Know-Who is the only confirmed Heir of Slytherin. But we might as well find out what they want. Let them come to us, though? I wouldn't want to make it easy on them."

"Uh-huh."

She started stroking her little cousin's head again. Harry relaxed a little, though his eyes were still trained on the two first years.

"And Cousin?"

"Hm?"

"You'll be fighting in that war, aren't you."

It wasn't a question. She already knew his answer. She just needed to figure out hers.

"I will. If not for Nev', then for my parents. And because it's the right thing to do."

"You should have been a Gryffindor," she sighed fondly, shaking her head.

Well. Better to make a decision now than when it would already be too late.