For a few days, the school could talk of little else but the attack on Mrs. Norris. Filch kept it fresh in everyone's minds by pacing the spot where she had been attacked, as though he thought the attacker might come back. Harry had seen him scrubbing the message on the wall with any product he could find, but to no effect; the words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone. Harry wanted to cheer up the distraught caretaker, but the way he glared at Neville held him back. The man knew they were godbrothers, he surely wouldn't trust anything coming from him.
"Is there no way to buy mandrakes from abroad?" he asked Blaise as they made their way to Potions class. They'd just passed by Filch trying to put a fourth-year in detention for "looking happy".
"There is, but it would be crazily expensive. No one wants to pay so much just to unpetrify a cat."
"How expensive are we talking about here?"
"The equivalent of four months of your Hogwarts tuition," chimed in Theo.
Harry bit his lip. That was a high amount, for sure.
"Maybe we could collect funds? If everyone pitches in… it's not like the mandrakes will be unusable. They're valuable potions ingredients."
"That's a good idea. It might even be smart to do so now, just in case there is another attack," said Tracey.
"You think there will be another?" asked Blaise, his eyebrows raised.
"I know Gemma said it was probably a tasteless prank but we shouldn't ignore the possibility."
The Potter heir hummed.
"You're right."
They didn't have time to plan more before they reached the classroom. What followed was another tense lesson spent never moving his eyes higher than his cauldron so he wouldn't meet the unreadable gaze of his teacher. Professor Snape avoided calling out to him just as much, his expression impassible when he swept over his work without a comment. After the excruciating hour ended, Harry was held back and given a permission slip to leave the school every Saturday for a two-hour session with a mind healer. Harry thanked the professor stiffly and left as soon as he could.
"So, how should we do it?" he asked before anyone could mention his issues with the potions master.
"If it comes from us, nobody will trust it." They all grimaced at the thought. The amount of times they'd been called slimy Slytherins in the past few days was enough to make them wary of coming forward. "We should ask someone from another house to spearhead it," suggested Blaise.
"Not Longbottom, obviously," said Daphne.
Harry nodded. Neville and his friends were the prime suspects for the petrification and although nobody truly believed it was him, it would be a bad idea to put him in the spotlight. People might even accuse him of planning the whole thing to garner some goodwill. He knew the newspapers published the most ridiculous things about his godbrother, and although Augusta Longbottom worked hard to avoid any negative comments being spread about her grandson, it was always prudent to make sure public opinion stayed positive. Neville didn't like this kind of attention anyway.
"Padma and Su-a would be good at it," suggested Blaise.
"Hannah Abbott might be a good choice too," commented Daphne, thinking it over. "Everyone knows she loves animals. But they're a bit young, no? Older students have more influence."
Harry hummed at his friends' suggestions.
"I was going to say Cedric."
"Diggory is the best choice," approved Tracey. "He's older and everyone really likes him. He's not from a Noble House but his family is established enough that the purists and traditionalists would listen too, and his dad works in the department of Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures at the ministry, so it would not be surprising for him to do something about it. Besides, nobody thinks Hufflepuff have ulterior motives."
They chuckled at the thought. It was common knowledge in Slytherin that Hufflepuffs actually had them beat in the number of elected positions their former alumni boasted in the Ministry, especially the high-level ones.
"Let's ask him and if he's not up to it we'll ask others."
"We should ask others anyway. The more people are involved the better it will go."
They didn't manage to catch him during lunch but luckily stumbled upon him and his friend group during a free period, when they decided to take a stroll outside - though Theo decided to go back to the common room to read. The fourth year waved when he saw them. Blaise detached himself from their court to greet a third year Hufflepuff he was friendly with while the others made their way to Cedric. As Harry had made friends with him at the summer solstice that year - mainly over their love of quidditch unsurprisingly, but the Hufflepuff was also a good conversationalist in other subjects -, he was the one who approached him.
"Hi, Harry. Do you need anything?" the older boy asked, his shoulders relaxed and his expression friendly.
"Hi, Cedric. Yes, actually. Do you have a moment?"
"Sure, what is it?"
His friends looked put-out over the fact that their conversation was being interrupted, but they seemed curious about what Harry wanted. The Potter heir bit his lip. He felt awkward asking this to someone he didn't know well. Still, he soldiered on, emboldened by the presence of his friends at his back. Blaise even sent him a reassuring smile from where he was making small talk.
"It's about what happened to Mr Filch's cat. The mandrakes won't be ready for another eight months according to professor Sprout and everyone's worried someone else might be petrified too. We were thinking about creating a fund to buy the mandrakes from abroad -since they're really expensive- but…"
"But people don't really like Slytherins much right now and you're worried about how people will take it," guessed Cedric with a sympathetic smile.
Harry nodded, relieved to not have to say it. It was one thing to ask something like this of one of the most popular boys at school and it was another to admit in front of a big group of older students that your House was being treated with suspicion.
"We thought that if someone from another House organised it, people might be more receptive."
"That makes sense. And I think it's brilliant that you thought of that in the first place."
Harry looked away, embarrassed at the praise. His friends snickered.
"It's a really good idea. If we manage this it would probably cheer everyone up," agreed Shafiq, one of Cedric's close friends. He was a cousin of Safaa, the heir's little brother if Harry remembered right. He couldn't recall his name though. Since Gemma's best friend wasn't from the main branch, she didn't have much contact with that side of her family. "I know the whole thing was probably just a prank but it's still been worrying the firsties. If we can do something to help with that…"
"I'll talk to professor Sprout," decided Cedric and Harry offered him a grateful smile.
"So basically, you'll have to do all the work, Cedric," drawled a boy Harry didn't recognise.
Harry could feel his friends tensing at his back, and see Blaise nonchalantly bringing his hand to his wand. Harry sighed. Why did people always have to be so antagonistic?
"Well, no. We were planning on talking to other people as well. I was thinking about asking Fred and George too - they'll prepare something crazy to advertise it to everyone, I'm sure - and Lee Jordan, so he can talk about it before the Quidditch match, but we should talk to a professor first."
"Besides, the more people work on it the better," intervened Tracey, throwing Cedric's other friend a filthy look.
"Mhm, but you're still planning to use Cedric," said another girl, sitting right next to the one who had accused them. Said boy shook his head with an aggravated expression.
"Slytherins are shameless, even the little ones."
Cedric sent them a disapproving frown before throwing an apologetic glance at Harry and his friends.
"My father was a Slytherin, Bryan. I'm not sure I appreciate the way you're talking about his House." The two flushed, but the Hufflepuff seeker continued. "They're twelve years old, of course they don't want to be put on the spot like that when the whole school looks at them with suspicion."
"We don't want any harm," sighed Harry. "If Cedric had said no we would have just asked someone else or done it ourselves. We're planning to donate anyway so even if we didn't do more we'd be participating."
"Anyway," said Shafiq, "ignoring those two, I'm thinking we could also do like, arts and crafts things and sell them at Hogsmeade. It will take a while to collect that much money - still less time than waiting for the mandrakes to grow - so if we plan it for the planned Hogsmeade weekend before the Winter Holidays, we could have students' parents coming and…"
Blaise thought it was incredible that almost nobody outside of Slytherin knew that it had been Harry's idea to collect funds for Filch's cat. Diggory always mentioned Harry's involvement of course, but that was completely ignored over the praise his admirers were insistent on showering him with. Harry confessed he was relieved, though; he disliked the attention. He only tolerated it in small doses and private settings. Blaise wondered why he liked quidditch so much then, but he supposed it was different when he was in the air and didn't have to notice people staring at him. Still, he knew better than to ask. Malfoy was still crowing about his new place on the team and the match was approaching. The Italian prince was glad his friend had a project to occupy himself.
Harry started with getting the Weasley twins and Jordan on board. It didn't take much to convince them, the twins loved any idea that put them in the spotlight. Filch probably wouldn't appreciate them turning his cat's plight into a short drama played in front of the whole school with Fred bearing cat ears, yellow lamp-like eyes, and a Cheshire grin while George played the part of the unknown monster but, well. If it wielded results, he probably wouldn't complain.
Jordan on the other hand had already written down a short skit to introduce the topic to the students who had been sleeping under a rock. The twins confided to Blaise that he also had something planned to get back at Malfoy. He had a feeling the new Slytherin seeker wouldn't get the glory and admiration he expected from his placement on the team. Blaise was looking forward to it.
The day of the match, Harry had his first session with the mind healer in the morning. He came back wearing a troubled expression and only murmured to Blaise that the healer was fine and he'd told Mr Fawley he would agree to go back before staying half a step behind him, quiet as a mouse. Blaise and Theo stayed with him in companionable silence while Tracey and Daphne fielded Malfoy's increasingly irritating taunts, only dampened by the fact that the boy was slowly growing less confident as the time approached.
They were sitting with the Argentum court for the match, in support of Harry and Adrian. Already the Slytherins were sending glances at the two boys in the stands as they both sat with their friends instead of making their way to the pitch. While Harry's replacement had been well-documented, Flint had kept Adrian's resignation quiet. It didn't look good to kick out someone from the team, but it was even worse to have someone leave in protest. Still, Adrian hadn't made a fuss about it since it was ultimately no victory to brag about having to quit. In the meantime, he amused himself with hexing Flint's teeth to fall out periodically. Considering Aspen had apparently suggested making him ingest a carnivorous plant's seed and letting it grow in his stomach while Safaa wanted to vanish a small bone from his hand while he slept and wait to see how long it took for him to notice, it was a pretty small revenge.
"...and remember to donate to Mrs Norris' fund to save the poor animal from her horrible fate! [...] Now, we have Gryffindor's team with the captain and keeper Oliver Wood, chasers Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell, beaters Fred and George Weasley, and seeker Cormac MacLaggen! And on the Slytherin side we have captain and chaser Marcus Flint with his fellow chasers Graham Montague and Lucian Bole, keeper Miles Bletchley, beaters Henry Fletcher and Damian Wright, and seeker Draco Malfoy. All wonderfully equipped with amazing Nimbuses 2001 that absolutely did not buy anyone's place on the team, I'm sure."
Murmurs rose in the stands at that and everyone's eyes fixed themselves on Malfoy, whose cheeks flushed an ugly red. It was very telling of how horrid the situation was that McGonagall didn't reprimand Jordan on his little call-out. Blaise and Theo shifted slightly to shield their friend from the looks thrown his way, to no avail. Harry grew tenser as the match started, his eyes firmly glued to the Gryffindor team. Blaise had discussed with him the possibility of sitting in the red and gold stands, but after they considered it they ultimately had rejected the idea. While it might make a strong statement, it would also be stepping on their House pride in a moment during which they should stay united.
"The beaters Weasley and Weasley throw the bludger back and ... who is replacing Pucey again? Whoever that guy is has just dropped the quaffle, it's a penalty for Slytherin," was saying Jordan from the commenter's stands. Everyone heard professor McGonagall tell him the name of the new chaser. "Right, I have been reliably informed that Slytherin's new chaser is called Hole - ah, no, Mole? Wait, don't hex me, Bole, his name is Bole. Lucian Bole drops the quaffle, then. Where was I… ah, Johnson - lovely girl if you ask me - throws it back into the game, Spinnet strikes, wonderful teamwork there, and… it's a goal, another ten points for Gryffindor!"
Blaise snickered, and he could see that Harry was smiling a little at his side. The Potter heir turned and exchanged a smirk with Adrian. It seemed like they appreciated the commenter's solidarity.
"And it looks like Malfoy and McLaggen both spotted the golden snitch. Now, Malfoy knows gold that's for sure and Slytherin'll be hoping he's just as quick to spot it in quidditch as he is to rely on his daddy's money. Ah, the snitch is moving again! And Gred - or is it Forge? - Weasley blocks a bludger coming towards Johnson."
"McLaggen hasn't improved his issues with mobility," murmured Harry, his brows furrowed. "I hate to admit it, but even outside of that broom, Malfoy's just better."
"He's not better than you, though, is he?" asked Theo, who like Blaise couldn't care less about quidditch. They'd attended every game before to support Harry but now that he wasn't on the pitch the appeal had diminished greatly. Even now they were only here because the Argentum court had to be and as their closest allies it was good to show their support. They needed to save face too.
Harry made a face like he always did when they tried to make him compliment himself.
"He's not," confirmed Terence from the upper row. He and Adrian were crouched close to them to follow their discussion. Gemma, Aspen, Daphne and Tracey were having their own chat, though Blaise suspected they were talking about court politics more than quidditch. Meanwhile, Safaa was nowhere to be seen. The Italian prince frowned. She had been more absent lately, hadn't she?
"Harry has better reflexes and his dives are smoother," said the former chaser, eyes trained on where Malfoy just made a sharp manoeuvre to follow after the snitch who had escaped from both his and MacLaggen's grasp. "His turns too."
"That's just inexperience, though," said Harry, biting his lip. "I don't think I was better than he is now during my first match."
Terence shook his head.
"You underestimate yourself. Despite his questionable decision to go back on it, there's a reason Snape initially chose you as my replacement. If your inexperience had been a problem, he wouldn't have risked it and would have simply made you a reserve seeker. He thought you were good enough to take the mantle immediately though." He pointed at an empty spot, which Harry zeroed in on. "See? The snitch is already over there. I know you would have caught it by now. Meanwhile Bole is struggling, and Gryffindor's chasers have a higher point count."
"Their teamwork's better than ours," confirmed Adrian with an unhappy twist to his lips. Despite the fact that they weren't on the team anymore, seeing Slytherin lose wasn't something they wanted.
They listened as Lee Jordan made another reference to Malfoy's buying his way into the team. Unfortunately, it was the only thing he could mention about the Malfoy heir. Despite her own feelings on the matter, professor McGonagall wouldn't let him say out loud that Harry was better. Still, Jordan managed to make enough insinuations of it when he wasn't focusing on the floundering of the main players. It all culminated when Malfoy finally caught the snitch.
"... and Malfoy catches the snitch, earning 150 points to his team! With 340-400, it's a victory for Slytherin. A fairly close one, though. Well, I guess no seeker could have done better, right?"
"Ouch," said Tracey, "Malfoy didn't like that one."
The cheers in Slytherin were subdued, the mood even more dampened by the fact that Terence pointedly hadn't clapped to congratulate the team. As they went down the stairs, Blaise could see Aspen and Gemma judging the awkward chatter and deciding on the way they wanted the victory party to happen. They could decide not to attend and humiliate Flint, or they could plan a confrontation. So far it seemed like they planned to open the celebration and leave. Terence inclined his head at them to signify he would follow their lead, kissed his girlfriend on the cheek and walked ahead with Harry, Tracey and Adrian to discuss the match.
Blaise yawned.
"It was boring, wasn't it?" commented Daphne, walking closer to him and Theo. While Tracey was a casual quidditch fan - especially of the Holyhead Harpies - and could keep up with the flying-crazed boys, Daphne only had a passing interest in it.
"The drama behind the whole thing kept me awake, but honestly if Harry's not playing I'm not that interested."
"We'll keep coming to Slytherin's matches, though, aren't we," sighed Theo. "I'll bring a book, next time."
Daphne and Blaise snickered.
"I suppose that's a way to make a statement. Hey -"
The Italian prince didn't get to start his sentence before a loud noise interrupted him. Everyone turned towards the noise. The stairs leading people out of the Gryffindor's stands had collapsed in on themselves.
"Merlin's beard!" exclaimed someone.
"Nev'" cried out Harry at the same time.
Blaise cursed and followed after his best friend who ran across the quidditch pitch. They arrived right on time to see Lockhart point his wand at Harry's godbrother, who was passed out, his entire body covered in blood and dust. He had multiple cuts from the wooden stairs' splinters, and his leg was twisted into a misshapen form. Blaise thought it was lucky he wasn't bleeding from the head.
"Brackium Em-"
"Are you crazy?" yelled Harry, pushing Lockhart out of the way and knocking his wand out of his hand."
"I was going to heal your friend, young man, there is no need to be rude."
"You were going to cast a bone mending charm without even performing a diagnostic spell, cleaning the wounds and putting him on a stretcher? Are you mental? You're not a medical professional, mister Lockhart, you're barely a professor as it is. You can't take care of Cornish Pixies and you think I'll let you cast anything on my godbrother?"
"Detention, mister Potter!" exclaimed the charlatan.
"Piss off!"
And he turned toward Longbottom, conjuring a stretcher and doing exactly as he had remonstrated. He meticulously cleaned his friend's wounds while holding his head up and murmured the diagnostic spell. Blaise stayed between Harry and Lockhart throughout it all, joined shortly by Longbottom's friends, the Weasley twins, and their own friends. The DADA professor understood it was time for him to back off, though he didn't do so before assuring he in fact knew perfectly well what he was doing.
When Madam Pomphrey made her way over to them, Harry levitated the stretcher to her and rattled off the information he had gotten from the diagnostic charm. The mediwitch grimaced.
"He's going to need more than a bone mending charm, it looks like part of his kneecap shattered. I'll have to vanish the whole thing and regrow it. Thankfully we have some Skele-Gro in stock, he'll be right as rain tomorrow. Though I'm afraid to say you'll have a painful night ahead of you, mister Longbottom," she said to the unconscious boy with an unhappy frown before she turned to Blaise's best friend. "Thank you, Harry. Do you want to come with me or will you stay with your friends?"
"I'll come," said Harry, leaving behind his teacher after throwing a filthy look at Lockhart.
Granger and the younger Weasley followed after him, walking alongside Longbottom. They left under the eyes of the entire school, eager for gossip. Some were looking at Harry with appraising eyes, but most were switching back and forth between Longbottom's unconscious body and Lockhart, who was crying to whoever was willing to listen that he would uncover the culprit of what he called an assassination attempt. Blaise looked at the damaged stairs of the Gryffindors stands, pondering.
The day Neville came out of the infirmary, Hermione had to tell him Colin Creevey had been petrified.
"I know," said Neville with a pained expression. They were walking toward class, having already eaten breakfast -Ron and her had done so in the Great Hall and Neville in the infirmary. "I woke up during the night and I heard the professors talk about it. He was visiting me apparently. That's not all."
He told her and Ron about his nightly visit by the same house elf who had tried to convince him not to go to Hogwarts in the summer. Dobby had apparently been the one responsible for the closing of the platform's barrier when Neville had been trapped outside of it, and he collapsed the stairs while their friend was walking down, hoping that if he was injured enough he would want to go home.
"It's not a bad strategy," admitted her friend. "My gran has half a mind to take me out of there already, with all her bad blood with Dumbledore and the way I got injured in first year."
"Professor Dumbledore," corrected absently Hermione. Meanwhile, Ron grumbled about him being sure Dobby was Malfoy's elf. Her stomach churned at the thought of being part of a society that still allowed slavery in some form. She was definitely going to do something about that.
"Right. Anyway, the only reason I'm not in Beauxbatons is that Gran thinks I should follow my father's footsteps. That includes going to the same school apparently."
Hermione didn't try to hide her relief at that thought. She didn't know what she would do if Neville wasn't at Hogwarts anymore.
"We should still try to find out who is behind those attacks," said Ron. "If we stop them, that crazy elf won't try to kill you to keep you from whatever's happening, right?"
Hermione nodded.
"Even if Diggory's idea to collect funds for mature mandrakes is good, it's better to prevent the petrifications from happening in the first place. I'm sure you can figure it out with some research."
"Hopefully, yes. But it's not that easy. We know that the Heir of Slytherin has to be a descendent, but they're really hard to track."
"I still say it's Malfoy," replied Ron again.
"It's possible. His mother is a Black and that family tree's well documented, but nobody knows who Lucius Malfoy's mother was. She could have been a Gaunt. They're the only descendent of Slytherin we know of, outside of Voldemort."
"Does that mean Malfoy would be You-Know-Who's cousin?" asked Hermione, ignoring Ron's grumbling at Neville saying the name.
"Well, technically we are both Malfoy's cousins through the Blacks. It doesn't mean much."
"Oi, we don't talk about that!"
The muggle-born shook her head, amazed at wizarding nonsense. Her lips twitched as Neville laughed at his friend's indignation.
"So how do we find out if Malfoy's the Heir?" asked Ron after a while. They'd just stopped in front of the Transfiguration classroom.
"We could ask Harry," suggested Hermione. "Have you had the chance to thank him?"
Neville shook his head.
"We'll see each other in Potions, I'll do it then."
"He was pretty impressive, wasn't he? I knew he was taking healing classes, but I didn't know he learnt so much. I wonder if I could ask Madam Pomphrey-"
"I know what you're thinking, but no. Madam Pomphrey only takes students who want to be healers," interrupted Neville with a stern look. "You value all knowledge and that's great, Hermione, but those private classes aren't meant for you."
Hermione looked away.
"It was just a thought."
Neville's gaze softened. "I know. Besides, I'm sure you can self-study if you really want to know. And Harry can give you tips!"
"Back to the matter at hand," said Ron. "We can't ask Harry. Malfoy hates him, it's not like he can just show up and ask him if he's the Heir."
Neville and her nodded. It was a good point. Hermione thought it over. After a moment, she lit up.
"What about Polyjuice potion?"
"We don't need to steal it, we can just buy them!"
"But what if they don't arrive on time? No, Neville, it's better this way."
"They do know we can hear them, right?" whispered Harry in Theo's ear.
"I honestly don't want to know what this is about," he replied.
Harry chuckled before putting down his bag next to Longbottom and gathering his supplies. Theo did the same next to Blaise, listening distractedly as Longbottom thanked Harry for protecting him from Lockhart's incompetence and offered to use his Boy-Who-Lived card to get him out of detention. (It was the third time he thanked Harry this week, once in another potions class, another time in the Great Hall, and now.) The offer was dismissed with a handwave and the excuse that Lockhart was so self-centred it probably only would make him double down. It was true enough, Theo supposed, but he thought Harry shouldn't turn down things from Neville. The boy's godbrother was getting rather desperate to repay all the favours he was starting to owe Harry.
"I was harsh on Longbottom, but Harry really doesn't let him do anything for him," commented Blaise, echoing his thoughts.
"What could he even do?" agreed Theo, slicing his ingredients while his friend managed the heat. "Harry helps him in Potions, diverts bludgers for him, calls for help when he's in danger and tries to heal him. He's even preparing to fight a bloody war for him. When Harry needs anything, he doesn't ask. We're the ones who have to force him to go to Gemma, and that rarely happens. The only thing he wants is Longbottom's friendship and he has that."
"Still, Longbottom could stand to be a little more proactive," grumbled Blaise. "Especially with the Slytherin prejudice that's going on right now."
Theo hummed. He didn't exactly disagree with Blaise but he remembered growing up in the blood supremacist circles the younger Weasley equated with Slytherin. He understood better than the Italian prince where the stereotypes that plagued their House came from. And it was hard to tell because they were currently ruled by a politically Light Argentum court, but the majority of the Slytherins were either aligned with or sympathetic to the Dark Lord's rhetoric. Most of the seventh year, the sixth years Terence and Gemma's court didn't talk to, Flint's fifth years, the fourth years, another half of the third years and Malfoy's court were all isolationists - wary of Muggles and of their encroachment into their culture - if not downright bigots. When that was what most of the school was confronted to, it wasn't surprising that people were wary. Especially so soon after the war.
He conveyed those thoughts to Blaise when the professor wasn't looking, and the Zabini prince begrudgingly conceded the point.
"Your father is a traditionalist, isn't he?" asked Blaise.
"He can't call himself that since he was a Death Eater, but he toes the line between the purist ideology and traditionalism, yes. Apparently, the Dark Lord's old agenda used to be less extreme."
He bit his lip. If he was going to say more, he would do it in the comfort of their dorm, with Harry there under Gemma's privacy wards and with the Eavesdropper curse Aspen had taught him at the tip of his wand. Revealing the real identity of the Dark Lord was something Theo's father had warned him against and he ultimately meant to keep that promise. Harry and Blaise were exceptions, though.
Blaise must have seen something on his face because he smoothly changed the subject back to traditionalism.
"And are you? I don't think we've ever talked about your view on muggle-borns."
"Not in so many words, no." He paused. "I'm… frustrated by a lot of things they do. The way they scoff at us for using quills and parchments like we don't have reasons to live the way we do."
The quill matter came up with Granger during one of their enforced time with Longbottom's group, and he'd had to explain that muggle pens didn't take to magic as well as quills because of the plastic they were made of and that even the old fountain pens that were completely made out of metal sometimes gained sentience for reasons the Department of Mysteries was still investigating to this day. There was a cultural aspect to it as well, but he didn't know if pointing out that wixen simply had adjusted by making more functional quills instead of completely getting rid of them would have helped. He didn't know Granger well enough to understand her, and he didn't particularly care to.
"But I also understand the fact that they simply don't know certain things, and that they have to learn them as they go. You can't really blame them for coming from a different culture. Harry struggles sometimes too, and that's helped me understand it a lot."
"That, and talking to Aspen," observed Blaise. "I've noticed you spend time together. He takes his 'mentor' role seriously, doesn't he?"
Theo nodded.
"I know it was a joke, the mentor thing, but talking to him helped a lot. Our situations are a bit different but having a Death Eater in the family… it really shapes your perspective. That's why I try to do the same thing for Felix."
"I think you're doing pretty well. He's been declared the leader of the firsties. With Tristan Harper and Lily Moon as his seconds."
The Nott heir raised an eyebrow.
"I thought it would be Aditya, or Mafalda Prewett."
Blaise shook his head.
"They have strong personalities, but not the charisma needed. Rosier has a vision, it's made him more mature than his peers."
They both glanced at Harry, who was watching Neville like a hawk as he deposited a small amount of crushed powder into their cauldron. Even doing the most mundane tasks, Harry had a certain presence to him. Theo remembered him on the quidditch pitch, checking on Longbottom's health while glaring daggers at Lockhart, his eyes intense and focused, his magic crackling around him.
"I see what you mean," murmured Theo.
"Duelling," murmured Susan, reading the notice board.
"It could be fun," exclaimed Hannah. "And it's an inter-House event, so it's a good way to gather everyone."
"It's still segregated by year though. It's a shame, I would have liked to see how the older students fight," said Justin with a glance at Cedric's group.
Justin had gotten tired of his male friends' speculations on the Chamber of Secrets and decided to spend more time hanging out with Susan and Hannah. So far, he didn't regret it. They were far more sensible about the whole thing, and spent less time making him feel like he was going to be attacked at every turn. Wayne, Zacharias and Ernie didn't mean anything by it, but maybe that was the issue. For them it was fun speculation, for Justin it was a hate crime. Susan and Hannah seemed to understand that a little better.
They were less understanding about his wariness over Neville, though. It made sense, considering they'd known him since their early childhood. Truly, he didn't believe Neville was behind it all. But he'd heard so many fantastical things since joining the magical world, he didn't think it was too far-fetched to believe some part of You-Know-Who had lingered in Neville after that Halloween night. The same part could probably have possessed him and made him open the Chamber, he reasoned.
Now he sounded like a conspiracy theorist. He sighed and changed the conversation to talk about Cedric's fund, which had gained a lot more attention now that Colin Creevey had been petrified too. The upper years were preparing for the fundraiser they would do in Hogsmeade in mid-December - Justin was so jealous he couldn't go to the village yet - while the younger years passed around baskets among students and made cards everyone could send to their parents to promote the fund. It was mostly Hufflepuffs working on it thanks to Cedric's influence, but there was also a fair amount of Ravenclaws, some Gryffindors - mostly the Weasley twins, who had given a hilarious performance that had ended with them in detention - and surprisingly even Slytherins, though mostly Potter's group, a lot of first years and a girl who turned out to be Potter's cousin.
Justin's male friends weren't participating but Hannah and Susan were so he was roped into it when he started spending more time with them. He didn't mind really. It gave him something to do that wasn't worrying over the very possibility of being hate-crimed over something he had no control over. As a white English boy born from wealthy parents, that was something he never really had to think about. He'd talked to Hermione though, and it was obvious that the biracial girl had had experiences like that in muggle schools. It was a little humbling to be honest. It made the situation no less terrifying, though.
In the end, when the day of the duelling club's first assembly arrived, Cedric's fund had already collected a fourth of what was needed to buy the adult mandrakes. Justin really hoped they would get it all before Christmas came around.
He contained a groan when he realised Lockhart would be giving the lesson. Even worse, Snape would be assisting him. Potions was his worst subject, Herbology coming in close. He just didn't do well with things that required manual labour. And as for DADA, well. He'd initially thought Lockhart was great; his books were pretty cool at least. But after spending more time with Susan and Hannah, he'd been forced to admit that there was something off about him. The fact that he kept messing up his spells for one; Susan had already written her aunt about it, and he was being investigated. He hoped it turned out to be nothing, but it was becoming less likely by the minute. Hannah thought he was the one who'd opened the Chamber to get a new topic for his next book. Justin wanted to tell her that was going a bit too far, but considering how wild his own theories were, he kept that thought to himself.
The two professors were coaching them through the disarming charm, and Justin had to admit Snape's explanation made a lot more sense than Lockhart's demonstration.
"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm — as you see, I've lost my wand — ah, thank you, Miss Brown — yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy — however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…"
Justin chuckled at the blatant lie. Then they made everyone practise. He was paired with Anthony Goldstein from Ravenclaw, with whom he got along pretty well. While practising the wand movements, he caught Hermione stealing a cat hair from Millicent Bulstrode's robe as they got into a fistfight. That was weird, but who knew what went on in the head of a genius like Hermione. He wouldn't question it.
Then came time to have a proper duel to show when it was appropriate to use the charm.
"No, no. Weasley and Longbottom are disasters with their wands, for entirely different reasons," denied Snape when Lockhart made a suggestion.
"Ah, I must insist on mister Longbottom at least," said Lockhart with a wink at Neville that had a few girls sighing. Weird.
"Very well, if you wish to publicly humiliate the boy. Might I suggest one of mine to pair him with— mister Malfoy perhaps?" said Snape with a smirk.
Justin exchanged looks with his friends. That was going to go terribly, wasn't it. Neville reluctantly faced Malfoy in front of everyone, following the proper duelling custom of bowing at each other. It was kind of like fencing. Justin's sister fenced; he liked watching her competitions when he was younger. He kind of missed it.
"Now, begin. Only minor spells, of course."
And then of course Malfoy used a snake-summoning spell. Justin backed up as far away as possible, paling rapidly. It wasn't a secret that he was scared of snakes. Justin glanced at Neville, hoping he'd do something but the boy only had a resigned look on his face. The snake hissed, but didn't move. Malfoy made a face, disappointed at the lack of spectacle. And then of course Lockhart had to intervene.
"Allow me!" shouted Lockhart.
He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, it slithered straight toward him and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike. Justin closed his eyes, bracing himself.
And then he heard another hiss, which didn't belong to the snake. Justin opened his eyes. Neville was speaking to it calmly, in a language he couldn't decipher. He crouched down and the snake moved towards him, slithering up his arm.
"What the hell?" he murmured.
No, wait. What was it that wixen said in situations like this?
Ah, right.
Merlin's balls.