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Chapter Eleven—Fitting Into Ravenclaw

"Where did you go for Christmas, Harry?"

Harry smiles at Padma around the top of a book on curses that he got from Aradia. It's charmed to look like a book of household spells. She said it would be for the best, and Harry agreed. "I went to Italy with Blaise Zabini and his mum!"

Padma stares at him for a second, and then sits down on the couch beside him. They're in the middle of the chattering Ravenclaw common room, but Harry still seems to hear the other sounds fade away. Padma's face is solemn. She obviously thinks that they have something important to discuss, and maybe they do. Harry won't know until he hears it.

"I'm pretty concerned about the friendship you have with Zabini," Padma says softly.

"Why, though?"

"Because it's clear that you value him and spend a lot of time around his mum, and…she kills people, Harry."

"So did Death Eaters, though."

Padma's eyes widen. "I hope that you're not spending time around them, either!"

Harry sighs. "You're right. That was a stupid comparison." Aradia tried to caution him over Christmas that he didn't need to spend so much time defending her and Blaise from what stupid people thought, and she was right. Just look at the way Padma is spluttering. "But the rumors really aren't all that true."

"All that true?"

"They say that Blaise is a killer just like his mum. And he hasn't hurt anyone in Hogwarts, has he?"

"Well, no, but…" Padma hesitates. "That doesn't mean he couldn't in the future."

"We all have wands and we all know spells. We could hurt people, Padma. So could the seventh-years and the professors."

Padma sighs slowly. "Well, that's true. I just think you should be careful."

"Don't worry, I'll be careful." Harry pats his Charms textbook, which is resting next to him. Artemis grumbles as the motion of his arm shifts her quiet resting place in his robe pocket. "You know it takes me a long time to get spells, but that means I need to study them more. Did you know that you can use household charms to disable an opponent in a duel?"

"Is that why you're reading that book?"

Harry grins. He doesn't even have to lie! "Yeah, it has all kinds of good advice for duels. For example, did you know that you could use a Scrubbing Charm on someone's eyes? And blind them?"

"Ew! That's gruesome, Harry."

"But we have to think about it. Not all the Death Eaters were captured, Padma. And you know that at least some people think You-Know-Who is coming back." Harry has got used to saying "You-Know-Who" around Neville and thinks that he should continue the habit around people who are like Neville and nice and squeamish.

Padma shivers a little and draws her cloak closer around her. "We don't know that he will."

"But he might."

"Um." Padma bites her lip. "Can I study with you, sometimes?"

"Sure," Harry says, delighted. "But you'll have to put up with Blaise and Neville being there."

"I don't mind Longbottom at all. Zabini…" Padma flinches and takes a deep breath. "Well, if you like him, he can't be all bad. I'll try."

"Thanks, Padma," Harry says, satisfied. He does want to spend more time with his Housemates and studying the kind of spells that Blaise finds too boring and Neville finds too easy, but he doesn't want to give up his time with his friends. This way, he gets the best of both worlds.

"I saw that, Blaise."

Blaise turns around a little guiltily from the library shelves. "Whatever do you mean, Harry?"

Harry folds his arms and glares at him. Blaise stares back. Harry hasn't grown any taller since Christmas, of course; it'll be a long time before he does, Blaise thinks, with the way his relatives fed him. But he has a kind of intimidating presence that seems to have grown the more he studies the spells that Mother gave him.

Eventually, he'll be a strong, trained wizard who intimidates everyone he runs into. Especially when he feels secure enough to show his Parseltongue to other people on a regular basis. But Blaise is sure that he'll always be there because he was Harry's first friend, the first one he really trusted.

"I saw the way that you sneered at Padma and made that little gesture like you might cut a throat."

"If she keeps hinting about my mother, I will."

"She wasn't hinting about your mother."

"Of course she was." Blaise sighs a little when he sees Harry's brow furrow, and his arms fall away from the folded-across-his-chest pose. "I believe you didn't pay enough attention to hear the hints, Harry. But they were there."

"Okay. What were they?"

"All those parts about how people don't understand the perils of some kinds of magic? About how you can never really know anyone you think you know? About how Italian is a pretty language but she doesn't think she'd want to learn how to speak it?"

"Oh," Harry says, although he still looks lost. "Sorry, Blaise."

"It's not your fault."

"But she shouldn't be saying it," Harry says, and turns around and marches out of the shelves. Blaise follows, entertained despite himself.

The entertainment only increases when Harry gives Patil a disappointed frown and says, "Why do you keep hinting around about how much you think Blaise's mother is a murderer?"

Patil's eyes widen, and she shoots Blaise a glare as if to say that he shouldn't have told Harry. Blaise only shrugs back, uncaring. Of course he prizes keeping Harry's confidence over keeping a peace that barely exists between them anyway.

"I just meant—well, she is a murderer, Harry."

"How do you know that? Do you have any evidence?"

"All the rumors!"

"Those are just rumors!" Harry snaps. "Do you think that Neville leaps over tall buildings and slays dragons at a single bound? Sorry, Neville," he adds hastily to Longbottom, who's watching them with wide eyes over the top of his Herbology book. "Just because people spread rumors about someone doesn't make them true."

Patil looks down at her quill and fiddles with it for a long moment. Then she turns to Blaise and says, "Have you explained this to him?"

"The cruel and unfair rumors that swirl at school about my mother and about me? Of course I have."

Patil holds his eyes. Blaise looks back at her, and lets one corner of his mouth lift in a small smile. Patil probably thinks that Blaise is playing on Harry's naivete or something of the kind, but Blaise never intended to do that. Of course he thinks that it's charming that Harry defends Mother, but then again, Mother would never hurt him.

And she doesn't kill for money the way the rumors say she does. So Blaise isn't lying to Harry, either.

Patil finally hisses under her breath and turns back to Harry. "I'll stop," she says, and shoots Blaise a look that too clearly says If only because otherwise I won't have the chance to protect innocent people from your evil self.

Blaise widens his eyes and raises his hands, while Harry flashes Patil a quick smile and says, "Thank you, Padma. I just want everyone to get along."

Patil sniffs and flicks her hair over her shoulder. "It would be nice if we could do that, yes," she says, and shoots Blaise another suspicious glance.

Blaise ignores her as he sits down. If she stops with the pointed comments, he thinks it might be good to have Patil around. She's great at Transfiguration, better than anyone else in their year, and she's plenty smart. Blaise can see the usefulness of her as an ally.

He can see the usefulness of Longbottom, too. He just doesn't think that alliance will last as long as the one with Patil could, because sooner or later Blaise will use Dark Arts, and Longbottom will recoil.

Blaise will make some compromises to get along with people. He doesn't intend, however, to abandon living his life.

Neville tries his best to keep his composure as he walks down the stairs from Dumbledore's office. But his hands are shaking, and no matter how much he tries to keep them concealed behind his back, they won't stop shaking.

"Neville?"

Neville starts and turns to find Harry staring at him worriedly from a sheltered nook near the bottom of the stairs. Neville shakes his head. He didn't think anyone knew where he was. But Harry always turns up in the oddest places. Sometimes he comes out to the greenhouse and sometimes he comes up to the owlery or the Astronomy Tower, but he always finds him.

Neville has to admit he could really use a friend right now, though.

"They want to train me." He's so proud of himself for getting that sentence out without a stutter, but then he begins shaking again, and he ends up practically colliding with the wall as he wraps his arms around himself.

Harry comes over and puts a hand on Neville's shoulder, looking concerned. "Who wants to train you? To do what?"

Neville licks his lips and tries to make his voice come out. It doesn't for a long second, but Harry doesn't get impatient the way Gran does when Neville stutters, just watching him intently.

"They want to train me to fight V-Voldemort," Neville whispers. He's used to speaking the name, or at least hearing Gran and Professor Dumbledore say it, but that's different from saying that he thinks his greatest enemy is out there somewhere. "They want me to take special lessons in dueling and Defense."

"And you don't want to?"

"No. I'm n-no good at dueling. I know from practicing with Gran. And I'm no good at Defense."

"But Quirrell teaches it so badly that that's no surprise. Do you want Blaise to help you with dueling?"

Neville jumps a little. He was just wishing that he could duel with someone who isn't Gran and doesn't expect him to know seventh-year spells, but Zabini seems like he would just be worse. "Why not you?"

"I'm not good enough at Charms and ordinary spells to give you the kind of workout you need." Harry looks at the floor for a second, then back up with a smile. "But Blaise will duel you if I ask him to."

"Just because you ask him to?"

"Yes. Because he's my friend." Harry looks at Neville in confusion. "The same way that I'm trying to help you because you're my friend."

Neville thinks about the way that he could try to explain that, and then gives up. He knows well enough that Zabini only tolerates him because of Harry. But maybe he would like the chance to beat Neville into a pulp.

"C-Can you ask him?"

Harry smiles at Neville in a way that reminds Neville of the first day they became friends when they talked about Hedwig in the owlery. "Of course. Let's go ask him. I think the Slytherins have a free period right now!"

Neville didn't envision asking Zabini today. But he takes a deep breath, and nods, and lets Harry lead the way.

I wish I could do that all the time. I wish I didn't have to lead the way Gran thinks I do.

If Voldemort comes back, then Neville plans to do his duty and fight in the war. But he still wishes he didn't have to.

"Why are you always going places with Patil?"

Harry turns around and frowns at Anthony Goldstein. Most of the time, they ignore each other. At least Goldstein seems to have realized that it's not Harry's fault Snape is always taking points from him in Potions, and their beds aren't right next to each other, and they don't have to sit next to each other in classes, either. Harry sits with Padma, or with Blaise or Neville if they have those classes together.

"We're going to the library to study."

"But you're always going with her."

"We meet up with my other friends, too," Harry says impatiently. "You sounded accusing at first, like you were accusing me of—what? Sneaking off and snogging her or something?"

Goldstein flushes a dull red. Harry frowns at him harder and wonders if he has a crush on Padma or something. If he does, then Harry is going to tell Padma she could do better. Goldstein is abrupt and loud.

"Of course not! I just mean that you could spend time with other people sometimes!"

"Why would you want to spend time with me? You think it's my fault that Snape doesn't like me!" Harry's also sure, from some of the other comments he's heard Goldstein make around the common room, that he's one of those people who would react badly to finding out that Harry is a Parselmouth.

"I just think that I could help you. And you could help me."

"Doing what?"

"I could tutor you in Charms. I know you have trouble in there. And I know Transfiguration pretty well." Goldstein is already standing a little straighter. "And you could tutor me in Potions."

"You know Snape thinks that I have no talent in Potions."

"And I know he's wrong. You're brewing better and better all the time. It's Professor Snape's fault that he won't recognize that."

Harry considers that. Blaise has disliked Goldstein since Harry told him about the other boy's comments in Potions, so he'll probably have to make more of an appeal to him for this than he did to have Padma join them. Neville and Padma will probably just shrug and accept it. "You'll have to be able to get along with Blaise Zabini."

Goldstein makes a face. "As long as he doesn't make any blood purist comments."

Harry tilts his head a little. He's overheard edges of conversations about blood status, mostly from the older Ravenclaws and Slytherins discussing the history of the war, but he has to admit that he doesn't really understand what they're talking about. "Why would he do that?"

"I'm a half-blood."

"Oh. Well, so am I."

Goldstein makes an impatient noise. "Right, but someone could make an exception for their friends or say that their friends aren't those kind of people, but still believe that half-bloods and Muggleborns are inferior."

"Blaise hasn't done that so far."

"But he could any time."

"Then don't come to the study group," Harry says, a little exasperated. Goldstein might have a point, but he's also judging Blaise the way everyone does. And Harry hasn't heard him say the same kind of thing about Malfoy and the other Slytherin first-years who do act prejudiced. "Make up your mind."

"I want you to ask him."

"Fine, I will."

"When I'm there."

"But you won't come until you know that Blaise doesn't have those beliefs."

"Right."

"That's not logical."

Goldstein blinks as though he's just seen the way he's trapped himself. Harry folds his arms and scowls triumphantly. His roommate spends a moment scratching the back of his neck.

"All right," he says finally. "I suppose I don't have a reason to distrust you. You've never lied to me. You've been honest. Too honest, even." Harry has no idea what that means, but he waits Goldstein out. "I reckon I can trust you if you say that Zabini doesn't have those beliefs about blood purity. But ask him first."

Harry nods. It's something that would probably come up sooner or later, either, from one of the people accusing Blaise. Or Blaise himself, if he does have those beliefs.

But Harry thinks that he doesn't. Otherwise, Blaise would have already expressed them and tried to twist Harry around to his way of thinking. He would have given some explanation that made them sound fine.

"They think I'm naïve, but I'm not as naïve as they think," Harry complains to Artemis as he leaves the Ravenclaw common room, on his way to the room in the dungeons that Blaise and Neville have taken over for their dueling practice. "Blaise would show those beliefs and try to manipulate me into accepting them."

"I do not understand these beliefs." Artemis sticks her head out of his pocket and flicks her tongue at him. "What about blood? The purity of blood? A mouse's blood tastes much like a rabbit's. I have not tasted human blood, but I do not think I would be able to tell the difference between your blood and another's, except for the smell."

"That's because these beliefs are stupid."

"Oh. That does explain it. One does not need to understand stupid beliefs, only fight them."

Harry smiles. "Exactly."

Blaise wipes the sweat off his forehead and nods to Longbottom in respect. The other boy has a great deal of raw power, and more skill in dueling than Blaise expected, although he thinks some of that simply comes from sheer determination.

Of course, Blaise is holding back and not using all the spells that Mother taught him. But it would be stupid to use them in a school with such punitive wards. Blaise will gradually introduce some of the less Dark ones as Longbottom increases in skill.

"D-do you think that I'll ever be a threat to Death Eaters?"

Blaise considers the boy in front of him carefully. He doesn't dislike Longbottom as much as he did. Longbottom isn't stupid, and he isn't stuck-up the way Blaise thought the Boy-Who-Lived would be, either. And more to the point, Harry hasn't shared some of the things with Longbottom that he has with Blaise, like his gift for making life and Artemis and his Parseltongue.

Ignis stirs in Blaise's pocket, the way Blaise has found he always does when Blaise thinks of something related to his creation. Blaise manages to brush the back of his hand against the pocket and disguise it as reaching down to holster his wand.

"I think it'll take lots of time and more years," Blaise says. "But yes, eventually, you could."

"R-really? Gran says I'm not p-powerful."

Blaise holds back a sigh. Why does it fall to him to play counselor to Gryffindor heroes?

"Just standing up against them in the first place is more than a lot of people did, even trained Aurors," Blaise says shortly. "You have the courage to do it. So that matters less than power."

His mother has no very great opinion of the Death Eaters. If the Dark Lord Voldemort had won and come to control Magical Britain, Blaise is sure that his mother would have accepted and dealt with it, and Blaise might have attended Durmstrang. Or his mother's hunting grounds might have extended. But the Dark Lord's servants were, from everything he's heard of them, violent and pathetic.

"Huh."

Longbottom looks as if he might say something else, but Harry bursts through the door of the dueling room then and says, "Hey, Blaise, are you a blood purist?"

Blaise and Longbottom both stare at him. Harry, as always, seems immune to embarrassment and much more intent on an answer to his question. He narrows his eyes and tips his head at Blaise. "Are you?"

"Why are you asking the question?" Blaise replies. He can see Longbottom easing back towards the wall, one hand resting on his wand, and sighs a little. Either Longbottom is letting this question disrupt their newfound accord, or he thinks that he might need to attack over it.

And then Blaise will have to put him on the floor, and possibly damage his confidence. It's quite irritating. Blaise frowns at Harry.

"Anthony Goldstein wants to know, because otherwise, he doesn't want to join our study group. I said I was a half-blood and he's a half-blood, but he seems to think that you are a blood purist and you're just keeping it hidden from me because we're friends and you might start talking about it once he's around."

Blaise is fighting hard against the temptation to smile as he listens to Harry ramble on. But he manages to shake his head and say, "I would never lie to you, Harry."

Harry squints at him. "That's not an answer to the question."

"Well-spotted," Blaise says warmly, and he means it. That's not the kind of thing Harry would have noticed at the beginning of last term. "But no, I'm not one."

"I thought you were," Longbottom mutters.

Blaise takes a deep breath and tells himself not to undo the work that he's done with Longbottom. "I'm not," he repeats lightly, and turns back to Harry, who's cocking his head a little.

"Why not?" is Harry's next question.

"It's true that my mother often deals with purebloods, but that's because they're the ones who often have the power to make them good allies or contacts or people worth keeping track of," Blaise says evenly. "She wouldn't refuse to deal with a powerful Muggleborn. Some countries have Muggleborn Ministers. She's dealt with them on occasion. And half-bloods are the same way. It's about who's useful and who's not, who's powerful and who's not. Not blood."

"That's sickening," Longbottom declares.

Blaise shoots him a look of dislike over his shoulder. Why is it that Longbottom never stutters when he's being self-righteous?

"She should be willing to help everyone, and their power shouldn't matter." Longbottom leans forwards a little. Blaise's first thought is intimidation, before he realizes that Longbottom is probably just being passionate. "It's the difference we can make for other people that matters, not their power."

Blaise smiles a little. Longbottom has left a spot open on his verbal flank, the same way he tends to do with his physical ones when he's dueling. "So you would help house-elves, of course."

"What?" Longbottom blinks at him.

"It's hard to think of a species with less power in Britain," Blaise says, spinning his wand a little. "Of course, you help them. And your grandmother. Correct? And Dumbledore, and other Gryffindors in power whom you admire."

Longbottom turns bright red, and then spins around and leaves without a word.

Harry is shaking his head when Blaise turns back to him. "I wish you two got along better," he says, but it seems to be a mild complaint. "And anyway, what you say makes sense, and I think you're mostly right, but you're wrong about one thing."

"What one thing?" Blaise lets Ignis climb onto his shoulder. It's partially for the comfort of having the little dragon there and partially for the pleasure of watching Harry's eyes soften at the sight of him.

"Your mum helped me. And I'm not powerful."

Oh, Harry, if you knew, Blaise thinks. "But you're a half-blood, and she did," he says aloud. "So are you convinced that I'm not a blood purist?"

"Yeah, I am. I'll tell Goldstein." Harry wrinkles his nose a little. "I do think blood prejudice is stupid, though. So if you're ever tempted by it, just keep that in mind." He nods sternly to Blaise.

Blaise can see a world where he might have been a blood purist. Being in Slytherin exposes him to their beliefs on a daily basis, and it might be easier to just nod and go along with them if he didn't have Harry. Blaise will do a lot for uninterrupted study time and being left alone.

But he has Harry, so he has to be more than that. Or less than that. Blaise isn't entirely sure that he knows the right words, and he doesn't think that's really his fault, either.

"I never will," Blaise says. "I never want to be stupid or lower my standing in your eyes."

Harry looks pleasantly flustered. He mumbles something and makes an excuse to disengage and duck out of the room.

Blaise laughs softly at his back and goes to practice with a few more dueling spells.

"I have to admit I was wrong about Zabini," Goldstein is saying as he and Harry and Padma all walk back from the library one day. They spent a few hours studying with Neville and Blaise. "He isn't a blood purist at all, and he can be pleasant company."

"It would be better if he and Neville weren't glaring at each other constantly, though." Padma shifts her books from one arm to another. "What is their problem, anyway?"

Harry shrugs. "Neville thinks Blaise knows Dark magic, and they had an argument about his mum."

"And Neville's breathing?"

Harry snorts. "I think it's because Blaise won—"

He's about to tell Padma and Goldstein what Blaise said about house-elves, but he abruptly turns and looks back down the corridor as Artemis gives a low hiss. There's someone there. She can't risk saying more than that without Goldstein and Padma possibly noticing, and Harry can't speak back to her, but he can take the warning.

"What is it?" Padma asks. She's tnese like a wire.

"Something—I thought I heard something—"

"Potty Potter and his two shadows," says a taunting, laughing voice from the shadows of the corridor.

Harry's not surprised when Draco Malfoy saunters into sight, with Crabbe and Goyle behind him. Malfoy taunts Neville on a regular basis and has some kind of conflict with Blaise. This isn't about Harry, but about Blaise or Neville. Or both.

"Go away, Malfoy," Padma says crossly.

"Don't think I will, Patil." From the way Padma flushes, there might be some history there, too. Malfoy folds his arms and examines her. "Always thought you had more sense than to spend time with a pair of half-bloods, though."

"Oi!" Goldstein says.

"You are a half-blood," Malfoy says, eyes moving dismissively across him. He turns to Harry, draws his wand, and smiles. "And so are you. Think your dirty blood can stand up against me, Potter?"

"Think I don't need to try," Harry says.

"Why's that, then, Potter?" Behind Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle move forwards a little and crack their knuckles.

"Because of who's behind you," Harry says, and smiles.

"You must think I'm as stupid as you are, Potter. What? Did you really believe I would look over my shoulder and drop my wand—"

"Mr. Malfoy!" says Professor McGonagall's stern voice.

Malfoy drops his wand.

Harry smiles at him and holds the smile for a long moment before Professor McGonagall steps between them and looks sternly at all of them. "Is something going on here, boys? And Miss Patil?" she adds, after Padma coughs a little.

"Nothing much, Professor," Harry says, and looks up at her. He's found that the innocent routine that never worked on the Dursleys fools the professors every time. Sure enough, Professor McGonagall's face is softening. "Malfoy here said something about me and Goldstein being half-bloods, which is true, I suppose, but he said it like it was a bad thing…"

"Oh, really, Mr. Malfoy? Is that the case?"

Malfoy fumbles around for words. "I just—they are half-bloods, and I was saying—"

"You had your wand drawn."

Harry smiles at Malfoy from behind Professor McGonagall's back. Malfoy scowls, which does him no favors with Professor McGonagall, and she ends up marching Malfoy back towards the dungeons, while Crabbe and Goyle follow, looking confused.

Harry snickers, and Artemis moves in happiness in his pocket. He catches Padma and Goldstein looking at him, and shakes his head a little. "Oh, come on. Are you going to scold me for acting like a Slytherin instead of a Ravenclaw, or something?"

"No," Padma says softly. "I think that was brilliant. And you know, you fit the stereotype of a Ravenclaw being smart."

"Call me Anthony."

Harry smiles at Goldstein—Anthony, now—and they continue on their way to Ravenclaw Tower, chattering about the spells that they were learning with Neville and Blaise. Harry strokes Artemis's back through the cloth of his pocket and decides that he'll have to tell Blaise Malfoy might be angry and looking for a fight. Neville, too.

But he's glad that he can fit in with his Housemates, and glad that he's with them now.