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Chapter Forty-Three—Young Assassins

"Do you think that he'll ever get tired of summoning you to his office?"

"Probably not."

Blaise sighs and touches the blade that he carries with him all the time now. Bathsheda said it was a good idea, so he could attune the knife to him. He feels more comfortable with it every day, but not comfortable enough to kill an enemy yet. "Well, you know that I would come to your rescue if you needed me to."

"I know, Blaise."

Harry's smile lights his whole face up. Blaise can't help reaching out and catching his chin, leaning in to kiss him. Harry responds enthusiastically, kissing Blaise back until the gargoyle behind him grinds back with a loud, reprimanding sound.

Harry straightens and shakes his head with a laugh. "I suppose the Headmaster wants to see me."

"We knew that already." Blaise's hand trails through Harry's hair, and his eyes fall on the small glimmer of light and dust around Harry's neck, where a half-real snake coils. According to Harry, it's the latest instruction he's got from Steel, to create a creature that is hovering halfway between existence and nothingness. "I know that you'll be safe."

"Yes," Harry says softly. Their eyes meet in a moment of perfect understanding.

If something happens where Harry is forced to call forth his snake, then he'll also call on Blaise, and Blaise will kill the Headmaster, to keep him from learning Harry's secret. Or they'll kill him together.

Harry winks at Blaise, and turns and walks up the moving staircase inside the wall. Blaise watches him go, heart beating hard. Then he turns and walks away, so that he doesn't just stand there and stare at the blank wall beside the gargoyle for an hour.

Or however long it takes Harry's wounded pride to soothe Dumbledore's wounded pride this time.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

It's amazing, Albus thinks wearily, how Harry Potter manages to look guileless even now. He sits down in the chair across from Albus's desk and looks around at the bookshelves with calm interest. He nods to Fawkes as if to another person and then turns and looks at Albus with his eyes slightly fastened below Albus's chin.

Someone told him to avoid Legilimency.

It is all the more apparent that Harry is not guileless, and Albus shakes off his own mistaken impressions and leans forwards. "Yes, Harry. I am told that you exposed Ginny Weasley as the Heir of Slytherin. Has she not suffered enough?"

"Oh, I didn't, sir."

"She says you did."

"No, sir. We were arguing about it, and she actually sent a charm at me to make my feet stick to the floor, and I dodged it. And then she was yelling about it, and the other students came out of class and heard."

That does, in fact, match the story that young Ginny told him, but Albus can't stop the rage and sorrow form welling up and coming out of his mouth. "And you never thought that you should try to defend her?"

Harry blinks at him. Then he says, "She was the reason that I lost one of my best friends last year, sir. I don't have to defend her."

"No one died because of the basilisk, Harry."

"No. But Neville thought that I was the Heir of Slytherin, because I spend so much time around Slytherins. Or he thought it possible that Blaise or Theo was the Heir. And him accusing me of that broke our friendship."

I can see where he got the suspicion. Albus has learned to look beneath the glossy, innocent surface of Harry's green eyes, and see what lurks under his mask. But he did not know that Neville was so perceptive.

"We are getting off-track," he says, shaking away his relief that Harry will not influence Neville any longer. "The problem is that Ginny Weasley is getting hexed in the corridors."

"She complained about that happening already, though, sir. I think some other people must have suspected she was the Heir before she announced it."

"She did not announce it—"

"She yelled it in front of a bunch of other students, sir. Including some older ones. It makes sense that they would know the kinds of hexes that would give her some trouble recovering from them."

"You do not care at all, do you?" Albus whispers, amazed, wondering why he is amazed, exhausted.

"Why should I, sir? She's not my friend."

Those green eyes before him, so bright, are also so alien. Albus just shakes his head in numb denial. He would never have believed that the son of Lily and James Potter could turn out this way.

"Am I dismissed, sir?"

"No. I must insist that you apologize to Miss Weasley."

"For what?"

"For playing a part in her announcing that she was possessed by the diary."

"No one said anything about the diary or possession," Harry says in a calm voice, and swings his legs as if this is a normal chat with a professor and he and Albus are about to take tea. "No one knows about that unless they found out last year, sir, or she told them. Or someone else who knows told them."

"And you did not tell them?"

"Why would I, sir? Yesterday was the first day she actually came up and bothered me. I have no reason to go around announcing that kind of thing."

Albus cannot think of what to say next. He has dealt with contrite students, defiant ones, and ones putting on a brave front to try and avoid getting in trouble. But Harry is just leaning back in his chair and looking at Albus with a slight smile, as though daring him to try and prove that Harry has ever done anything wrong in his life.

"You may go," Albus says, defeated.

"Thanks, sir," Harry chirps, and jumps to his feet. He gives a covetous glance at Albus's bookshelves and nods to Fawkes again on the way out.

Albus leans back and tries to work out what he's feeling, what he thinks he should have done differently. But in truth, there is nothing that he can think of. Harry would still have had to go to the Dursleys with Sirius and Remus on the Continent. The quest to learn of what turned out to be Horcruxes and stop Voldemort was more important than any one person.

And Albus should have been able to trust Lily's family to take care of her child.

After a few minutes of thinking about it, Albus decides that he does know what he would have done differently, after all. He would have made sure that he escorted Harry to Diagon Alley himself, and taken all the pains he could to keep Harry from connecting with Blaise or Aradia Zabini.

It is perhaps useless, now, to think that he would have done that, with the way things turned out. But the thought is cold comfort to part of him.

Things are bad enough that Neville knows he'll have to do something.

He walks down the stairs with Ginny in the morning, and no one tries to hex her while he's there. But all he does when they're at the Gryffindor table is turn his attention away from her to the potatoes for one second, and when he turns back, Ginny is breaking out in boils and crying softly.

Neville surges to his feet. "Who did that?" he snarls.

People turn and stare at him. Neville sweeps his gaze along the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables, looking for signs of someone tucking a wand away. Due to the angle and the fact that he's between them and Ginny, he doesn't think the hex could have come from the Slytherins.

Harry catches his gaze for a moment, his eyes as bright and blank as those of a doll. But he just sips his own pumpkin juice and starts talking to Anthony about something.

"I want to know who cast that hex," Neville continues. He hears Hermione pull her wand and heal Ginny, and he tries to use that as a distraction from the heat he can feel creeping up his face. He's always hated having people stare at him like this. And that's usually just because he went to Diagon Alley or something, not because he's making a speech. "It's not fair to torment a second-year whether or not you want to."

"What about when that second-year was responsible for people getting Petrified last year?"

Neville spins to face Padma Patil. He's always thought of her as sensible, calm, and less obtuse than some of the other Ravenclaws who only think books are real. But she's Harry's friend, and she's standing now to face him, tossing her hair back over her shoulder.

I should have taken warning when she befriended Harry, I suppose.

"You have no proof of that!"

"There are rumors, and there's fact," Padma says, and smiles unpleasantly. "I have enough facts to be going on with. And there's the fact that she never suffered a day of punishment, let alone the days and weeks and months of lying Petrified in the infirmary that some people did. She can suffer now."

"Miss Patil! Ten points from Ravenclaw!"

Padma utterly ignores Professor Flitwick when he stands up and speaks, which unnerves Neville more than he can say. But he stiffens his shoulders and stares at her. He's going to protect Ginny no matter what. Yes, she was possessed, and yes, Neville was wrong about the Heir's identity, but that doesn't mean Ginny deserves to suffer. She was possessed.

"She's a girl younger than you are," he says to Padma quietly. "You're just a bully."

"Oh, am I?" Padma's smile widens, and her eyes sparkle in an unnerving way. "I think you'll find that I'm speaking a truth a lot of people in this school agree on."

And she turns around and sits down, leaving Neville without someone to face. Other people are just staring without proclaiming that they want to hurt Ginny. Neville can feel his face going redder and redder.

"Come on, Nev, let's sit down, please," Ginny whispers, tugging on his arm.

Neville gives her a long, searching look, and sees that all her boils are healed. Hermione is really a miracle worker, maybe even stronger at healing magic than Madam Pomfrey. He nods slowly as he sinks back into his seat. "If you're sure."

"Yes."

Her eyes are big and shiny with tears. Neville shakes his head and turns back to his food, ignoring the way that some people are murmuring and laughing at him. He still thinks it was right to stand up for a victim of bullying.

For a moment, he feels as though someone is staring at him, and he looks up to meet Harry's eyes.

Neville just glances away. He knows that Dumbledore called Harry to his office to speak with him about what he did to Ginny, and he also knows that it's not—that it wasn't handled, really. Harry just told the truth.

It sort of sounds like he didn't do anything to Ginny, that it was just an unfortunate coincidence she was yelling about the Heir of Slytherin when other people came out of their classrooms.

But if anyone could bully without leaving traces of the bullying, it would be Harry.

"How did your experiment with the snake go?"

"It seemed to go very well." Harry calls the dust around the classroom where he meets with Steel into being as a snake, and then thins his control until the dust is just hovering more purposefully than normal. Then he creates one coil, lets it go, makes a head, and releases that. "And Dumbledore didn't notice anything."

"He does not notice much."

Harry blinks and looks at Steel. "You sound as though you have some sort of personal grudge against him."

Steel is silent for long moments, nails tapping each other. Then they incline their head and say, "I assume you do not know much about Dumbledore's youth."

"I know that he defeated Grindelwald, and he taught Transfiguration at Hogwarts before he became the Headmaster."

"Even then he was already decades old. No, I mean his youth."

Harry frowns, trying to remember if Aradia ever mentioned anything, but finally has to shake his head. Talking about Dumbledore's youth hasn't been a priority for his foster mother, even if she knew about it.

"When he was young, he had a sister who had powerful wandless magic. She might have been able to practice the art that you do, or something like it. The art of bringing creatures to life is different for being to being." Steel taps their nails faster and harder. "His sister died in a duel between him and Grindelwald. It is not certain Dumbledore killed her. It is not certain that he did not."

"And you wanted to tutor the sister?"

Steel inclines their head. "I had come to Godric's Hollow following the song of her magic, but I would not have approached her until she was older and could control it more. It was wild around her most of the time. Supposedly that was because of an attack by Muggle boys in her youth. I do not know for certain. But under my tutelage, she might have learned to calm it."

"You sensed her magic, but you didn't sense mine?"

"From what you told me, you gave yourself the ability to create life. It was not something you were born with. And I have spent most of the last six years outside of Britain."

Harry nods, contented. It's actually kind of nice to know that he's not as different from other magical people as he thought. He just doesn't want to be worth less in Steel's eyes than the others.

"Now. You will practice creating a snake of stone and holding it in and out of existence."

"I can see why I can do that with dust, it's insubstantial anyway. But how do I do it with stone?"

Steel gives him a narrow smile. "Impress me."

Which means that Steel isn't going to tell him, and Harry will have to make his own decision about what to do. He grumbles a little as he reaches for some of the pebbles that Steel has scattered about their training room, but it's a happy grumbling. Honestly, he relishes the challenge for his magic that he'll never get to train in the classroom.

"You should try to make a blue and white snake of stones, like me."

"The point is to make the snake hard to notice, Artemis, not to give it bright colors that would stand out."

"Make it blue and white in your mind. Then we will both know the truth, and she will be something like me. Any snake you create should be like me. I am perfection."

Harry has to bite hard on his lips to keep from laughing as he smiles at Artemis, but he doesn't see why he can't create a sort of blue and white snake, so he sets to work, while Artemis watches approvingly from the top of the nearby table and hisses encouragement.

Blaise waits, and watches. No one says anything, and Draco has already drifted complaining off to bed by the time that Blaise decides no one is going to.

Theo didn't come back from the library, and no one has acted like that's unusual or suspicious. Of course, Theo keeps odd hours, and odder since he became friends with Harry and Blaise…

But Blaise isn't going to just sit there or sleep all night and not look for his ally.

He casts a Disillusionment Charm on himself, a spell that Mother insisted he learn this summer and Bathsheda drilled him on until he will look like part of the wall itself. He wishes it weren't after curfew so he could go to the Ravenclaw Tower and get Harry, but he would have to answer a riddle and there's no way to do that quietly.

He walks along the corridor outside the common room, his makeshift compass suspended in front of him. He took a bit of Theo's hair in case he ever needed to track him. Theo doesn't know about it, and he doesn't need to, but the hair spins in a matrix made of magic and points down the corridor.

Further into the dungeons. The only things further into the dungeons are the Potions classroom and a few of the rooms where Slytherins practice spells in private.

Blaise walks in that direction, gripping his blade.

Even before he enters the bend at the end of a corridor the hair is pointing straight at, he smells the blood.

Blaise lengthens his stride and comes around the corner ready for everything, from an ambush to the sight of Theo wounded.

In retrospect, that was the most likely outcome, and that's exactly what he sees. Theo lies senseless on the floor, still breathing, but also bleeding sluggishly from so many cuts all over his body that it looks like someone hit him with all of Bathsheda's blades at once. Or a bunch of Cutting Curses, Blaise can acknowledge.

Despite the help Theo needs, Blaise's rage causes him to stand still for a minute. Then he moves forwards and crouches down next to his friend, casting a diagnostic that Bathsheda taught him. Checking if someone is close to death usually has a different purpose for an assassin, but at the moment, it'll come in handy for this one.

Yes. Theo is far away from the brink of death yet. But if he had lain in this corridor bleeding all night, that might not be true.

Blaise blankets Theo with his magic, pushing back on the blood. It's a more complicated technique than just casting a healing spell, but Blaise doesn't know one powerful enough to heal all the cuts anyway. What he wants is to keep Theo's blood in his body.

He feels something shift on his shoulder, and looks over to see that Ignis has climbed out of his front robe pocket. His wings are spread, his little glass body is glowing, and he's feeding—

Magic directly to Blaise. And Theo.

Blaise is so startled that he nearly forgets to grab hold of the stream of magic. But then he does, and spreads it all over Theo's body. Theo takes a breath that sounds startled, and his eyes flutter open even as the blood streams back into the wounds.

"Blaise?"

"Yes. I'm here."

Theo stares at Ignis, and then just as obviously decides he isn't going to ask any questions. "All right," he whispers. "Can you get me to Madam Pomfrey?" He nearly falls and hits his head on the floor, but Blaise manages to cast a Cushioning Charm under him in time.

"Yes," Blaise says, his mind made up. He will take Theo to Madam Pomfrey. And then he'll come back here and see if he can use some of the magic Ignis is projecting to track the magic of the people who hurt Theo.

Unless…

"Do you know who hurt you?"

"Only saw one face, but it felt like there were three of them." Theo coughs, and his chest seizes. Blaise pours more magic through Ignis, watching him glow, and Theo's breathing gets smooth again. "Adele Greengrass."

Blaise blinks in surprise. She's an upper-year Slytherin who's a cousin to Daphne Greengrass in their year and always seemed no more than vaguely disdainful of the lot of them. "Do you know why?"

"Said that you spend too much time with Harry. Said you should be reminded where your loyalties lie in Slytherin."

Blaise smiles, and Theo smiles back, despite the fact that he's fast fading from consciousness again and Blaise doesn't know if he'll remember the conversation when he wakes up. "You have my word that you'll be avenged," he breathes. "I'll get you to Pomfrey now."

"Thank you, Blaise."

Then Theo faints, or goes unconscious, or does something else that's indistinguishable from them. Ignis stops projecting magic at the same time. Blaise casts the Levitation Charm to lift Theo as gently as he can, and gives his little dragon a long look.

Ignis nuzzles Blaise's face with a warm, smooth snout.

"I wonder if even Harry knows what his little creations are capable of," Blaise murmurs, and starts off on the long trek to the hospital wing. Ignis scampers back into his robe pocket, but Blaise has the feeling that his companion will keep watch.

And in the meantime, he can start planning vengeance on their visible target. Only start, though.

Harry isn't going to want to be left out.

"Did you manage to track the others?"

"I tried, but by the time I got back to the corridor, there was nothing left but Theo's dried blood. Ignis spread out some magic, but the only thing it did was point back to the infirmary where Theo was."

Harry gives Ignis, who's sitting on Blaise's shoulder, a glance. Ignis hisses at him and spreads his small wings. Artemis rears up on Harry's shoulder in turn to hiss back, and then turns to Harry in disappointment. "You should have made him smart like me. He could tell us why he gave magic to Blaise and Theo."

"I think I know why," Harry murmurs.

"Tell me."

"Did I ever tell you that you're bossy?"

"You made me, so it is your fault."

Harry grins, and says to Blaise, "I'm arguing with her about Ignis. She thinks I should have made him able to communicate in Parseltongue. But—well, I made him to be responsive to you. A companion to you. To be what you need."

Blaise's eyes widen. They're standing in their classroom, both too upset to sit down, and their brazier's light throws shadows on his face. "You think he used magic because that was what I needed at the time?"

"Yeah."

"But—Harry, that's not something you specifically created him to do. That's more like—like what an actual living creature would do to adapt to its circumstances. I thought he was just—a little glass object to give me comfort."

Harry laughs a little. "So you believe in my power to create life until it starts acting like life?"

"Yes. No. I just want to understand." Blaise shifts position, and Ignis swishes his tail and climbs down into Blaise's robe pocket.

Harry can at least explain this better than he would have a few months ago, now that he's been training with Steel and understands some of the magical theory behind his gifts. "I put certain portions of my magic and will into the creatures. Most of the time, that's just a specific directive: guard this door, manifest in front of death, whatever."

"That last is still amazing."

Harry can feel a pleased blush working its way up his cheeks, and stops to think about it, but then decides he doesn't have to stop to think about it and in fact can kiss his boyfriend. He leans forwards, Blaise leans forwards at the same time, their noses bump, but they manage a kiss.

When they pull back again, Harry says, grinning like an idiot, "But I put more magic and more will into Ignis and of course Artemis than I do the majority of my creations."

"Why Ignis?"

"He's a gift for you, Blaise. And you were mine before we ever started dating."

This time, Blaise is the one who's probably blushing, although the darkness of his skin makes it hard to be sure. He clears his throat. "So that's all that's necessary? You created him to adapt to his circumstances, so he adapts to his circumstances."

Harry nods. "But also does anything that I might do in the situation to keep you safe. I would have fed you magic to help heal Theo's wounds, too, if I were with you when you found him. So he did it."

"That makes sense and it's a miracle. All at once."

Harry smiles again and then lets the smile drop. "So. You know one of the people who tortured Theo. Are we going to try and find out who the others are, or are we going to do something about her?"

"We're going to do something," Blaise says, and his eyes glint a little. "But we have to do it carefully, subtly, so that Mother doesn't get upset at us for being stupid."

"Are we going to hurt her?"

"She went after one of our friends to punish me. Maybe you indirectly."

Harry speaks the words that sit on his tongue like an iron coin. "We're going to kill her."

Blaise's answering smile is fierce and feral. "We are."