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Chapter Forty-Four—On the Edge of Oblivion

Minerva watches Harry with some concern. He's come to her a few times for extra tutoring, but he's keeping up well enough in his classes now that she hasn't needed to ask him to attend separated classes.

She wonders now if that was a mistake. Harry is grim and tight-lipped as he works on Transfiguring a tortoise into a stuffed toy, and she doesn't think any other professors are close enough to talk to him about things like this. She hoped it would work out with Remus, but, well.

"Mr. Potter? Could I speak with you a minute?"

"Of course, Professor."

Harry obediently gets up and trots after her to the back of the classroom. Minerva hides a sigh. Harry is certainly the politest student she knows. Even Hermione Granger sometimes argues back against Minerva or whinges a bit because she read something in a book that contradicts what they're learning in class. Harry never does that.

"I wondered if something had happened, Mr. Potter. You seemed upset."

"I'm sorry if I caused any disruption in your class, Professor."

"Not at all. But did something happen?"

Harry sighs and stares at his feet. Minerva feels her heart melt a little. She wonders if Harry thinks he has to go out of his way not to annoy the other students or cause trouble in class because he would have a harder time hexing them if it came to that.

Minerva wants to reassure him that she will have his back no matter what and he doesn't need to hex people, but he speaks before she can.

"It's just that someone is bullying one of my friends, Professor. I don't know who exactly. He couldn't tell me. But I have to stop it."

"Of course you do," Minerva whispers. "It's not Mr. Zabini, I trust?"

"Oh, no, most people are scared of Blaise because of those stupid rumors. It's someone else."

"And you cannot tell me?"

"He might be a little upset if I did, Professor."

Minerva sighs, doing her best to keep the sound to herself. Of course there are boys—it's probably a boy—who believe that way, and Minerva can do little but offer hope and help when they do find her. "Please do tell me if he changes his mind about you talking to a professor in the future, Mr. Potter."

"I will, Professor. I promise."

How Harry's eyes shine when he says that. They remind Minerva of Lily's, and she has to close her own eyes for a moment after Harry returns to his desk, before she can take a deep breath and move to help the next student who needs it.

She will preserve Harry's innocence for as long as she can, even around those determined to destroy it.

"You have names?"

"Yeah. Alexander Callahan."

Theo speaks the words slowly, watching Blaise and Harry and wondering if they will laugh at him. Alexander Callahan is a half-blood who's never been associated with Adele Greengrass in public and in fact seems to despise her. And he's a reserve Beater for the Slytherin Quidditch team. He's a popular, vicious, and skilled seventh-year.

Harry and Blaise might not want to go up against someone like him, whereas they would against Greengrass, who isn't as popular and doesn't have as much protection.

But Harry just smiles, and Blaise nods. Theo leans back against his pillow in the hospital bed with a little huff of breath.

"What? Did you think we wouldn't do it?"

"I'm your friend, but I'm not the best friend to either one of you."

Harry looks as him as if he's stupid. Theo bristles, then winces. The cuts from the curses that Greengrass and the others used on him are still pulling shut and sting when his muscles tighten too much.

"You're our friend, it doesn't matter how close. We're going to protect you, of course. How did you know that Callahan was involved?"

Theo has to lie there and breathe for a moment, despite Harry's visible and growing impatience. He has real friends. He has people who would plot and kill and fight for him. It doesn't matter if they're dating each other.

He has what he never thought he would have.

He roughly clears his throat when he sees Harry's mouth starting to open. "I know because he chose to come to the hospital wing last night and gloat that he'd do worse when I got out. And that I wouldn't dare to tell you because no one can fight him."

Artemis coils up Harry's arm—Harry immediately looks around for Madam Pomfrey—and hisses something indignant. Theo smiles. He can't help it. He loves snakes.

"She says that that was stupid of Callahan," Harry says lightly, but his eyes are as hard as pebbles. "I'll make sure that he regrets it, Theo. They're all going to regret it. They'll have time to do that before they die."

"You're going to kill them?"

"Yes. Of course." Blaise is the one who speaks this time, leaning forwards to peer into Theo's eyes as if he thinks that Theo's memory might be defective. "Why wouldn't we?"

"It could be dangerous. And—I would leave my enemies alive to know they had been defeated."

Blaise shakes his head briskly, but with an edge of kindness to his smile. "That wouldn't work. They already struck at you simply for being our friend, and we had no idea they even disliked us. They could do something else with the proper motivation, or someone else could get upset because Callahan and Greengrass and whoever else was involved are their friends. No. We'll kill them, make it look like an accident, and keep you and ourselves safe."

"That's enough now, Mr. Zabini, Mr. Potter. Mr. Nott has to rest."

Madam Pomfrey is bustling over. Theo looks at Harry, but Artemis has already disappeared back up his sleeve, and Harry is listening to the mediwitch with that unsettling meekness that seems to fool so many of the professors. He does look back once at Theo, though, as she herds them out of the hospital wing.

His eyes are direct and brilliant and reassuring. And Blaise looks much the same way when he glances back over his own shoulder.

Theo heaves a breath and closes his eyes as Madam Pomfrey arrives to fuss over him in her irritating way.

He has not only friends, but great friends.

Life is worth living.

"He seems to spend the majority of his time with the Quidditch team, doesn't he?"

"Yeah." Harry leans back against the wall of their classroom with a frown. Artemis is twined around his upper arm and hissing reassuringly. He bends down to kiss the top of her head. "It might be harder than we thought to reach him."

"And enchantments on brooms are tough to break."

"Yeah."

"But we could still orchestrate a broom accident."

"How?" Harry turns to look at Blaise. His boyfriend practically shines in the light of the fire, everything from his skin to his eyes to his determined smile. Harry loves it and wishes they had time to kiss right now.

But, well. Murder priorities.

"You could create a little creature who would creep into the bristles of Callahan's broom and cause an accident."

Harry cocks his head. He and Blaise have flown before, enough that Blaise has told him he should try out for Ravenclaw Seeker. But Harry really has no interest in Quidditch. "You think so?"

"I know so." Blaise steps towards him and takes Harry's hand, lifting just Harry's fingertips to his mouth. Harry shivers. "You'll have to practice. We won't rush and make Mother angry with us. But it's the first idea that we've had to really make it look like an accident."

"Yes," Harry murmurs. "And Adele Greengrass?"

"Let's keep working on it."

Harry nods. So far, Theo has been out of the hospital wing a week and no one else has made a move against him. And Harry has little creatures of stone dust watching Theo now. In a pinch, they could protect him, and they could certainly warn Harry if they see someone paying him unfriendly attention.

"Very well. Let's get started on the broom creatures."

"Are you going to tell Steel about this?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

Blaise hesitates, then shrugs. "I don't think there's a problem with me telling Bathsheda because, if anything, she'll be proud. But I thought maybe Steel had more of a moral code and would tell you not to do this."

Harry snorts. "If anything, they'll be interested to see me putting theory into practice. They've told me that I need more of both, just that so far my practice has outstripped my theory and put me in danger."

"I would agree with that." Blaise steps in and sweeps a hand gently across Harry's forehead. Harry goes still, shivering with the deliciousness as Blaise leans in to kiss him. "Please be careful. We can find another method of revenge on Callahan if this one doesn't work, but I can't find another boyfriend."

"You'd better not."

"I wouldn't dare."

Harry smiles at Blaise and then turns to leave. He's due a lesson with Anthony and Padma in the library, and he doesn't want to neglect his other friendships just because Blaise is—

"You are very tempted," Artemis says, sticking her head around Harry's neck to look into his face as they walk down a deserted secret passage towards the library.

Yes. Blaise is temptation itself.

"I suppose there's no chance of Harry staying here for the Christmas holiday."

Remus's voice is dull and lifeless. Albus takes a deep breath. He wishes he had better news, but he's been working on the Sirius situation since the man was taken to Azkaban, and no one is interested in supporting another trial.

"No. I'm sorry, Remus. Minerva told me when I asked that she'd inquired about his holiday plans, because she thought she would give him some Transfiguration lessons if he stayed at Hogwarts, and he told her he was going to Italy with the Zabinis."

Remus is silent, stirring his tea. Albus watches him helplessly. He wishes he could do something. Remus is a good man, afflicted by a curse that was none of his choice. He deserves some cause for optimism.

"I want to take Harry to Azkaban," Remus whispers.

"What?" Shock makes Albus's voice a little loud. Fawkes jerks his head out from beneath a wing and watches them anxiously.

"I think Harry should have to see what his godfather was condemned to. It didn't seem to affect him at all and I want him to know. I want—" Remus shakes his head violently and sets the teacup down on Albus's desk almost hard enough to make it break. "I want him to understand what the years cost Sirius."

"You think the Horcrux hunt might have made him more unstable?"

"I think that Harry could have been a grounding force for him. But circumstance denied Sirius that, and now Harry is denying himself to Sirius."

Albus considers the request carefully. As far as he knows, the only children who ever visit Azkaban are those who were at least fifteen after the Death Eater trials in the first war and went to see their parents. He doesn't know if Harry would be allowed to visit at thirteen or because he's a godson instead of a son.

But Remus looks alive for the first time, and Albus can't help nodding.

"Let me set it up."

"Your creatures cannot be heavy enough to affect the broom's flight, but on the other hand, if they are too light, they cannot crash it."

"Yeah." Harry frowns at the little dust-creature in front of him, whom he's shaped as a cat with a long tail. It vibrates with a silent purr.

"How are you going to solve the problem?"

From the sound of Steel's question, they're interested, but also going to leave it up to Harry to make the decision. Harry circles the little dust-creature in response. It rears and reaches out to him to place tiny claws on his finger when he extends it. Harry holds up his hand and watches the creature spread and flutter small wings.

And he gets the answer.

"I added wings, but that was only to make sure that they wouldn't fall off when the broom is in flight," he says, turning back to Steel. "They can't fly very strongly, mostly glide."

"All right. And?" Steel is still, watching him with all the intent focus of a predator. Harry doesn't mind. He knows Steel won't hurt him.

Besides, it gives him the chance to copy that same kind of predatory focus into some of the creatures he makes.

"I think I'll make a lot more of them," Harry murmurs. "Ones with wings that will allow them to really fly, so that I can send them in a swarm after Callahan's broom. But still made of dust, so they'll be hard to see. Instead of clinging to the bristles and going up with him, then doing something to him there, they'll wait until he reaches a certain height and then get in his way. His face. His eyes. His hair."

"What height is that?"

"An unfortunate one."

Steel tilts their head and waves a hand slowly back and forth in the air. "If you can do this, you will have to exhibit a level of control that I have not seen with anything except your Ignis and Artemis. You will have to keep your mind on many creatures at once, and make sure they act as a coordinated swarm. That they do not bump into one another as they fly. That they can all hide afterwards."

"You do not control me! I am myself!"

Harry smiles at Artemis. "They mean that I'll essentially have to give the swarm the same kind of free will that you and Ignis have."

Artemis haughtily tucks her head down into a coil. "Even Ignis does not have the freedom that I have. He cannot talk."

Harry just nods and pets her soothingly, and then turns back to Steel. "I respect that I'll have to take some time. That's all right. Blaise and I already had a talk about how we don't want to rush our revenge and make Aradia upset."

"And is that the only reason?"

"What?"

"You are not waiting because you might change your mind about the revenge? Or you hope that Blaise might?"

Harry turns incredulous eyes on Steel. His mentor is clicking their claws together, but they stop and give Harry a serious look when they see Harry looking at them.

"No," Harry says slowly. "Of course not. Why would you think that?"

Steel shrugs a little. "You are young to exhibit such hunger for vengeance. You regretted it the last time you tried. I do not think it would be out of character for you to try it now and then regret it later."

"I regretted it the last time because we got caught. Or Blaise and Theo got caught," Harry has to add, because really, he didn't have that much to do with their campaign of persecution against Neville. "Aradia was upset that they were being so obvious. Blaise and I just have to go slowly and not get caught."

"And you're not upset about that?"

"Why would I be? Are you?"

"Human morality does not apply much to someone who must drink human blood to survive, as I do. I much prefer to think in terms of debts and obligations. I am only surprised that someone who is human does not think of it more often."

Harry shakes his head. There are all sorts of things he could say. If he'd been raised by moral people, which the Dursleys weren't, maybe he would be horrified at the thought of hurting people. Or if they were hurting animals, who after all are innocent—Artemis maybe excepted—and can't be held responsible for the things they do to people.

But…

"People will hurt you if they think they can get away with it," he says softly. "And the people who hurt Theo probably do think that they got away with it. Because two of them hid their faces, and even though one came into the hospital wing to gloat about it to him, they probably think he won't dare strike back."

"They don't believe the same about you?"

"They'll watch Blaise. Not me."

"Because you're a Ravenclaw?"

"Because even the professors tend to think of me as innocent." Harry shrugs. "It's not something that I set out to cultivate on purpose, but it's too useful to give up."

Steel stares at him so long and carefully that Harry lifts his chin. He won't apologize for what he is. He won't adopt human morality because Steel thinks that's what he ought to do.

But Steel laughs, abruptly, shockingly, and clicks their claws. "I do believe that we will get along fine, Mr. Potter. And that I will never accuse you of having morality that you do not again."

Harry smiles at him and turns back to the dust-creatures. Artemis begins hissing suggestions, not all of which are useful, but some of which Harry intends to adopt.

After all, Artemis knows more than he does about hunting and bringing down prey.

Blaise watches Bathsheda tilting the vial back and forth in her hand. The shimmering green liquid inside is so thick that it almost looks like a paste made of scales instead of a poison.

"What is it?"

"Poison."

Blaise rolls his eyes a little. "I know that, Bathsheda."

"Then why did you ask?"

Sometimes his mentor gets into a taunting mood where she's very difficult to deal with. Blaise sighs. "I just want to know what kind of poison it is, what it does, and why you're offering it to me."

"I know that you have some reason to wish revenge on some of your fellow Housemates," Bathsheda says, calmly, quietly. "I also know that you need a way to make her death look like an accident, and an untraceable one. An untraceable poison seems like it would fit those requirements nicely."

"But you don't care about Adele Greengrass one way or another. Why would you do this for me?"

"I cannot simply wish to see one of my students thrive?"

"Bathsheda."

His mentor gazes back at the vial in her hand, her face sweetly pensive. Seeing her like this, Blaise knows, no one would ever mistake her for a deadly assassin, and one who's practicing an art not even Mother could master.

(That still makes Blaise sweat sometimes, to think about. To think that part of his wish to be greater than his mother is already coming true).

"Sooner or later, you must make your first kill," Bathsheda says softly. "And it is just as well that it is not the first time you are under contract for the Order and must eliminate your target. You might freeze, then. You might unexpectedly discover some scrap of morality left in you—"

"Doubtful."

"But no one knows until they make the kill," Bathsheda continues, her voice strong, calm, ancient. She tosses the vial to him. Blaise hastily fumbles to catch it, breaking out into a sweat as he imagines what might emerge from it. "Better to give you the chance against a minor enemy whose strength will not kill you than to put you to the test for the first time against someone who might."

Blaise can see the wisdom of that, even if he thinks it extremely unlikely that he would ever just give in and let an enemy kill him. He studies the vial. The glitter of the poison is as beautiful as snake scales from up close, and as mysterious. "What does the poison do?"

"It mimics a natural death from potions fumes. As though the person who took it had an unsuspected allergy."

Adele Greengrass does take seventh-year Potions. "And it has to be—what? Ingested? Smeared on the skin?"

"Breathed in. You must find some way to get close to her while she is in the presence of any potion at all."

"Not a problem," Blaise breathes.

"Isn't it? I was the under the impression that I had given you one to solve."

"A minor one only." Blaise looks up and meets Bathsheda's eyes. "Thank you. You don't know what this means to me."

"I might. Remember your friends, Blaise."

"Of course I will."

Severus sighs a little as he stands in front of his class. The Potions NEWT class is usually a source of pleasure to him, but there are too many students in this particular one who only want to brew potions that they assume will save their lives or make them money. Nothing else, nothing in between.

The Weasley twins would honestly be a pleasant change from this.

Adele Greengrass is bending over a cauldron, practically inhaling the fumes. Severus scowls at the girl without moving a muscle in his face. She's always doing that, disregarding his warnings with an incredulous little smile that hints at her disdain for Severus's blood status.

Many of his Slytherins assume he is a pureblood, but the ones who care about blood purity know.

"Miss Greengrass."

She turns to give him an insolent little smile, as much to say that she knows he can't do much about her. "Yes, sir?"

"If you would stand back from your cauldron so that you do not melt your eyeballs?"

At least it makes a few of the other dunderheads wince and scramble backwards, and so they might save their eyesight even if Greengrass doesn't. She just gives a little laugh and tosses her braid over her shoulder. "I wasn't standing close enough for that to happen. Sir."

"If you did not wish to listen to—"

Miss Greengrass abruptly gives a loud gasp and clutches at her chest. Severus immediately casts a Shield Charm around her. It will have the double effect of making sure that she can suffer no longer from the potion's fumes and making sure that other people do not suffer in case her potion explodes.

Which it does. In the next instant.

Severus spins, shielding around the cauldron up to the ceiling, and the other students shriek and prance in place and dive under desks like the useless beings they are. At least some of the ones diving slam into the shields he already has in place. Severus takes a certain sort of grim satisfaction from that, the only kind he can, as he turns back and finds Greengrass's cauldron a roiling mass of flame and green liquid as thick as porridge.

Severus curses, low and steady, under his breath as he casts again and again, trapping both the fumes and the liquid—if it even deserves the name of a liquid any longer. How in the world did she make the potion do that? What did she add to it?

He will probably never know. The explosion has ruined the table where she was preparing her ingredients and destroyed them irreparably.

"Out!" he bellows, angling his shields to urge the students towards the door.

The students scramble. Severus reflects that they are never that obedient when he tells them to follow the instructions and pay attention.

The burning, melting mess in the middle of the shields has calmed down. Severus takes a deep breath and moves forwards, his hands clenched at his sides. He does not want to see what is there, but he has no choice.

It is worse than he feared, far worse. Adele Greengrass is dead, there is no doubt of that. Little more than an ash smear in the shape of a girl decorates the floor.

Severus swallows and closes his eyes for a moment. There is much to be done. He must inform Albus, and the girl's parents, and several others.

But for a moment, he stands there, next to the first casualty that has happened in his class since his first year teaching, and feels—lost. He would not have thought that any combination of ingredients in his store rooms or the kit of a student could cause this particular reaction.

But then, he doesn't know exactly what Greengrass had in her kit. And if she has—had—some sort of undiagnosed heart condition exacerbated by the fumes, which it seems she did, given the way she clutched her chest before she died…

Severus begins to cast the spells that will preserve the scene, fighting down his own feeling of sickness.

Blaise smiles a little as he sits on the couch near the fire in the Slytherin common room, listening to others discuss Greengrass's death in hushed tones. No one thinks he had anything to do with the matter. No one knows that he asked Ignis to Disillusion him and muffle his footsteps when he crept into the NEWT Potions classroom, and Ignis responded.

Blaise can see why Mother wanted him to keep his involvement out of sight when it comes to things like this. There is a power in never even being suspected of playing a part in a fellow student's death that he never understood and now rejoices in.

He catches Theo's eye.

Theo gives him a little smile, and that is all that's needed. They understand each other.

Blaise leans back and silently smiles.