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Chapter Twenty-Three—On the Path

"It's not the same without Terry."

Harry nods silently in response to Anthony as he picks up his satchel. He didn't spend a lot of time talking to Boot, because he had his own friends, mostly outside Ravenclaw. But he didn't deserve to be Petrified, and the second-year boys' bedroom does feel emptier without him.

"I wish I knew who was doing this."

Harry considers Anthony as they walk down the stairs towards the common room. "So you could report them to the professors?"

"So I could stop them."

"And here I thought you weren't a Gryffindor."

Anthony gives Harry an impatient eyeroll as they settle on the couches by the fireplace to wait for Padma. "The professors are only going to slap them on the wrist. Or send them St. Mungo's. You know that even if they're an of-age student, they won't go to Azkaban."

"Because Petrifying people isn't illegal? Opening the Chamber of Secrets isn't illegal?"

"No. Because they're probably a pureblood, and purebloods get away with everything."

Harry blinks and pays a little more attention to Anthony. "Wow. I didn't know you felt that way."

Anthony gives him a sharp smile. "Well, it's not the kind of thing that I want to go around saying all the time, you know? You never know who's listening. But honestly, yeah, it's what I believe. Purebloods should suffer a little more for their bigotry. But the legal system and the Ministry are all biased in their favor. Whoever did this will just get away with it."

"Not all purebloods are biased that way."

Anthony sighs hard as Padma joins them. "Now you know why I don't go around saying it, Harry. Purebloods always take it the wrong way."

"I'm just saying, not all are—"

"And you're a pureblood, and you're the one saying it, excuse me for not taking that seriously—"

"Look at me, Anthony."

Harry blinks and turns to face Padma. Her voice was pretty sharp, enough to cut through the way that Harry had begun to ignore the argument as yet another of the kind that Anthony and Padma have all the time. From the startled look on Anthony's face, he feels the same way.

Padma is tapping a sharp fingernail against her chest. "Look at my skin color," she says, and her voice is bitter. "Think about my name—my last name, if not my first. Think about the purebloods who tend to be in power, like Malfoy's family."

"Okay. But I didn't think racism was a problem in the magical world. I mean, racism based on skin color," Harry adds. "No one bothers Blaise."

"That's because Mrs. Zabini scares everyone. My mother brews potions, and my father helps Muggleborns' families adjust to our world. Not exactly threatening."

"Oh, and because you're not British in some people's eyes," Anthony says suddenly. "Right."

Padma nods and winds a strand of hair around her finger. "That's a much bigger part of it. There are some people who are fine, but others who look at us and think foreigner. Never mind that my family's been in Britain for generations."

Harry wonders for a second if people think Blaise is foreign because he's Italian, but he reckons that Mrs. Zabini probably scares them too much for them to say anything about that, either. "So you don't want to Petrify people. Because some purebloods are arseholes to you, too?"

Anthony turns and gapes at him. Harry just raises his eyebrows. He thinks that he understands, but he wants Padma to lay out all the nuances of her position.

Padma blinks, then blinks again, and finally gives a quiet, reluctant laugh. "Just that not all purebloods are blood purists, you know? Or not in the same way. I do have a grandmother who…well, sometimes people try to make up for not being accepted by acting in ways that…it's complicated."

Harry nods. He doesn't need Padma to lay out any more nuances, he thinks. It's enough to know that she doesn't support the Heir of Slytherin. So Harry won't have to take her down.

And maybe he can include her and Anthony in his and Blaise's hunt for the Heir. Maybe. He needs to talk to Blaise first.

"Will you ever tell them about me?" Artemis asks wistfully from his pocket.

Harry falls a little behind Padma and Anthony, who are arguing about the historical roots of blood purity, and hisses as softly as he can. "I don't know. Maybe after the Heir of Slytherin thing is over. Everybody is jumpy right now."

"They should not be upset around you. You are their friend."

Harry doesn't have the chance to respond, because Anthony looks over his shoulder and motions him forwards to take a part in the argument. Harry goes, even though he thinks that he'll mostly have to listen.

Then again, that's not the worst way to learn.

And he can think about possible ways he might introduce Artemis to his friends, if he can imagine a way that wouldn't involve them reacting badly.

"Going to visit Potter?"

Blaise just tilts his head at Nott as they walk down the corridor that leads to the place he told Harry to meet them. Blaise isn't ready to give away the locations of any private spaces to Nott yet, especially the ones where they meet with Longbottom on a regular basis. "You know I am. Why else did I invite you along?"

"I thought you were the one who would have to approve of me becoming allies with you."

"So does my mother."

That shuts Nott up nicely, but after a few minutes, he rallies, just as they turn the last corner into the designated meeting part of the dungeons. "And Potter? Do you jump to do what he says, too?"

"If you want to make an alliance with me, you should know that he was here first."

Nott's face is a study. Blaise smirks at him and taps on the stone that projects slightly out from the wall among the others, if you know where to look. One of his mother's contacts told her about some secret rooms in the dungeons in a vain attempt to impress her.

He made a particularly good feast for the Suns, according to Mother.

The wall shifts aside with a groaning noise, and Harry looks up. The room they're in now is more of an alcove, and empty except for a stone slab set up with benches around it in the center. "Hi, Blaise! Nott."

Blaise doesn't have to turn around to know Nott is blinking. He won't have seen the cool, assessing expression on Harry's face before. Blaise nods and settles against the wall. "Nott is here to convince you that I should spend more time around him."

"That's not what you said," Nott murmurs.

"It's what's happening."

Harry has one hand hovering above the pocket where he keeps Artemis. Blaise delights in having that knowledge, while Nott, who is looking faintly uncomfortable, doesn't.

"You were the one who approached Blaise," Harry continues. "That must mean that you think you have something to offer him. And we're fairly busy just now. We study together and we're planning for the future. What can you contribute to that?"

"It would be easier if I knew what you were planning."

"We can't tell you that until we know if we can trust you."

"How do you know that you can trust me unless you tell me and I don't betray your secrets?"

Harry shakes his head a little. "You were the one who approached Blaise," he repeats. He shoots a smile at Blaise that makes him feel valued in a way that no one except Mother has ever done. "And besides, that's not the way trust works. We can't just hope that you won't betray us. You could do it any time. Tomorrow, if not today. In five years, if not sooner. We need a secret from you to guarantee you'll keep your silence."

"I could just lie."

Blaise rolls his eyes, not caring if Nott sees. The idiot is being overly antagonistic. He seems to think that if he treats Harry like a Gryffindor, he'll be able to diminish Harry's value in both their eyes.

Harry's smile sharpens a little. "I do have a way of knowing if you lie."

"I don't believe you."

"Try it. Say something that's a lie and something that's a truth, and we'll see if I can identify which one."

Nott narrows his eyes and stands still for so long that Blaise thinks he might simply refuse and leave. But apparently, the challenge of proving Harry wrong is too much to resist. "All right. I have a terrible relationship with my father. I know a secret about him that his enemies would pay to know."

Blaise conceals his frown, but he does feel a bit of doubt. Nott's father was a Death Eater, that much is true, but he's also the sort of pureblood man who would prize his son, as long as Nott is a reflection of himself. Either of those statements could be the lie.

Harry stands with his head canted to the side, eyes unfocused. Blaise knows he's listening to Artemis's hissing, although he can't hear it.

"The first statement is the lie," Harry says at last. "Although only a bit of one. I think it comes down to the word you use. Not terrible, but something different from it. But not something as simple as having a completely good relationship with him, either."

Nott starts and looks at Harry as if he thinks Harry is going to reach out and yank his heart through his chest. Harry gives him a faint smile and glances at Blaise.

"Do you think we can trust him enough to let him in a little?"

"A little," Blaise agrees. "Not enough to tell him how you did what you just did."

Harry is obviously barely concealing a snort. Then again, Blaise can understand that. No, of course he wouldn't rush to tell everyone about Artemis.

"I wasn't planning on it." Harry turns to face Nott. "How do you feel about joining us, Nott? Doing what we say at least some of the time? Having help and protecting and spending time around Ravenclaws and the Boy-Who-Lived?"

"I have no objection to Ravenclaws."

"Stop with the word games. We're going to notice, and we don't think they're cute."

Nott blinks and blinks again, while Blaise desperately holds back laughter. Then Nott smiles, a slow, wondering, sharp thing. "I think that I can tolerate the Boy-Who-Lived for the sake of spending time around intelligent people."

"And what are you going to tell your father?"

"I'll think of something."

Nott's obviously dismissive of the idea that he might have to tell his father something at all. Blaise wonders about that, given that Nott was so eager to make an alliance with them in the first place, but he shrugs and lets it go. They'll learn more about Nott as they spend more time with him.

And they're certainly well-defended enough. Blaise can feel Ignis shifting in his pocket, ready to emerge and breathe fire at Nott if Blaise only gives the signal.

Harry smiles at Nott, needle-sharp. "Then you should know we're beginning our hunt for the Chamber of Secrets today."

Nott leans forwards, all attention, and if he's bored or surprised, he's good at faking it. Blaise presses on his pocket to calm Ignis down, then joins the conversation.

"Mr. Potter. What are you doing down here?"

Severus works hard to keep the resignation out of his voice, but from the way that Harry tilts his head, he doubts he managed. Mr. Nott and Mr. Zabini, meanwhile, turn around and nod respectfully at him. Nott looks a little shocked that Harry doesn't.

If they were alone, or rather if Severus had seen Harry with Nott and they were alone afterwards, Severus would ask, Is it wise to spend time with the son of this particular Death Eater? Even though I know that you do not care about the reputations of your friends' parents?

But they are not alone. Severus simply shakes his head. "You did not answer my question, Mr. Potter."

"Sorry, sir."

"That is still not an answer."

Harry stares at him with glittering eyes, and Severus feels as if a sudden surge of magic has gripped him and thrown him back in time. He remembers people who said that Lily's eyes were wild, savage, that they made other Gryffindors and Ravenclaws and even the occasional Slytherin nervous. Severus scoffed at the time. Lily's temper burnt quickly, but it always burnt out. How could they think she was frightening?

Now…now he sees.

"I told Harry that I wouldn't take him to our common room, sir, but that if he found it on his own, he was welcome to visit," Zabini says then.

Severus eyes him with feelings even more mixed. Zabini is a trial. Severus wishes that he had Sorted elsewhere, unlikely as that always was for the Black Widow's son.

"And you, Mr. Nott?"

"People keep saying that Potter's clever, sir. I don't believe them, based on his performance in some classes, but I did want to see if he could find the door of the common room. And laugh if he didn't."

Severus restrains the impulse to pinch his nose. The excuses are all plausible enough. He can't exactly march them back to their own common rooms and tell them to stay there simply because he thinks they'll probably make tempting targets for the Heir of Slytherin.

"Mr. Potter."

"Sir?"

"I hope that you are taking precautions as you play these…games. Precautions against the Heir of Slytherin and whatever beast they command."

"I have one, sir."

One? Severus stares at Harry. He would have expected Harry to say that he had, and no more than that. But from the way he said it, he has something very specific in mind, something that he might think would be able to challenge the Heir of Slytherin…

What is it?

Harry smiles, and says nothing. Severus knows that more polite nothing will be his fate if he asks after it.

"As you were," he says abruptly, and turns around and sweeps up the stairs. If any students in the school are safe from the Heir of Slytherin, it's these three. And as much as Severus hates to think it, his life would be much simpler if Harry was Petrified for a few months.

"How did you handle him like that?"

Harry glances over his shoulder at Nott, as they tap on the stones in a part of the dungeon that Blaise says has been abandoned for years, and so might house an entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. "You just saw, Nott."

"I saw you manipulate an invisible chain you had him on. How did you manage to attach that chain in the first place?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yes. Very much."

Harry narrows his eyes. Nott just smiles back, not guileless but sharp enough to cut. Harry wonders if they will become friends. Maybe if Nott stops making him wary and making him want to laugh both at once.

Harry can't see himself ever becoming as comfortable with Nott as he is with Blaise, though. Blaise is his best friend.

"I won't tell you," Harry says, turning away from Nott and lifting his hand towards the wall. Blaise Transfigured a heavy stone bracelet out of a piece of parchment this morning, and Harry's using it to hide Artemis where she's coiled around his wrist. She can scent magic, sometimes, and she might be able to find the kind of powerful wards that would have to hide the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. "I don't have to. Besides, you'd reveal me to Snape because you wouldn't be able to resist tugging on the chain."

"Are you sure you were Sorted correctly?"

Harry ignores Nott and listens to Artemis's quiet hissing.

"I can sense magic behind these stones, but the kind that binds the walls of the castle together in other places. It is nothing too powerful and nothing very violent. I cannot smell other snakes."

Harry restrains his irritation. He thinks that Slytherin's beast has to be a snake, although there's no record of any snake that can Petrify. He just nods and speaks as quietly as he can, even though Nott's gone down the corridor to tap on another part of the wall with his wand. "Thank you, Artemis."

"What is that?"

Harry spins around and into a crouch, his wand surging into his hand. Blaise is right behind him, one hand on Harry's shoulder as he aims his wand at Nott.

Nott doesn't even seem to notice the threat, although Harry knows he must. He's too busy staring open-mouthed at Artemis, who's crawled out from beneath the bracelet and wreathed around Harry's arm.

"My pet," Harry says. He's practically vibrating with nerves and the desire to strike, hard. He's never revealed Artemis to anyone unless it was by choice. Nott might try to take her, steal her. He might try to kill her if he's one of those people who's afraid of snakes. "If you even make a move to touch her…"

"I can Obliviate him," Blaise says.

"You could damage my mind if you do that."

Nott's voice is light, but his eyes have finally shifted back to Blaise and Harry, and his grip is tight around his wand. He seems to realize, though, even as Blaise and Harry do, that he has it too low to get it up before they curse him.

"I don't care," Blaise says. "Not if it keeps them safe."

"We could consider a vow instead," Harry says, having a little sympathy for the pale, sweaty mask Nott's face has become. "But it would have to be very specific."

"I can do specific." Nott shifts to face them and lowers his wand the rest of the way. Harry doesn't think it's his imagination that Nott's breath is coming a little faster than it did before. "Although I don't see why having a pet snake should be the subject of a vow. Lots of students here have pets that aren't on the approved list, and I know a few Slytherins who have snakes."

Harry shoots a look at Blaise. Blaise stares back at him, eyes bright and thoughtful, and then inclines his head.

Harry smiles a little. "Given that we're asking you for a vow anyway and making sure that we can trust you, I suppose we can reveal the rest of the truth to you," he says, and turns to Artemis. "Why did you come out from beneath the bracelet, anyway?"

He ignores the way that Nott's breath is whistling like he's going to faint. Artemis wriggles a little and says, "It was uncomfortable. And you could use someone else to trust with my secret."

"Why did you pick him and not someone like Anthony or Padma? Or Neville?"

"You fear telling them because you fear that they would be too committed to their honesty to keep the secret. This boy smells of secrets. He has so many of his own that you would be able to reveal me to him as long as you made him promise."

Harry blinks a little, then laughs. That's a much more subtle and complex level of reasoning than he expected from Artemis, to be honest.

"What did she say?"

The question comes from Blaise and Nott at once, amusingly. Harry turns around to face Nott, leaning one elbow on Blaise's shoulder. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Yes, I would, actually." Nott moves as if he's about to take a step forwards, then abruptly glances at Blaise and seems to reconsider that course. "This—this is incredible, Potter. How are you a Parselmouth?"

"If the next word out of your mouth is Mudblood, Nott…"

Harry smiles a little. There are people who think that he's scary, or would think he's scary if they knew about his Parseltongue. But they really ought to be watching Blaise. He knows a lot more powerful magic than Harry, and he can sound a lot more threatening with nothing but a slight lift of his voice.

"It's not. I swear it's not going to be." Nott is shaking his head so rapidly that his hair flaps around his face. "If you knew—there's so many rumors around Slytherin, so little truth. To know something like this and to be one of the few people who knows—I would be honored."

"He really does value secrets," Harry hisses in surprise.

"I told you. I told you!"

Harry doesn't roll his eyes at Artemis, but it's a near thing.

"You know what I will do if you find out that you've broken your vow, Nott." Blaise's voice is conversational. "It would be better if you never did, or at least if you never let me find out."

Nott just bobs his head, his eyes gone inscrutable again. Harry thinks it'll be a while before Nott shows wonder or openness in front of them again. But that's all right, as long as the vow binds him. "I understand."

In the end, Blaise is the one who comes up with the vow and makes Nott repeat the necessary words. Harry watches closely, Artemis watching, too, from his upper arm. Nott sneaks a few glances at her, and while he might really like snakes, Harry thinks he's wondering if she's venomous.

Harry smiles at Nott one of the times he catches him doing that, and Nott looks away and concentrates on the vow Blaise is making him swear.

He can just go on wondering.

"What could Petrify a ghost?"

Neville just shakes his head, staring at Nearly Headless Nick, who is hanging in the air of the hospital wing with a look of enormous surprise on his face. He hoped that someone would be able to speak with the ghost even though they can't speak with any of the Petrified humans, but of course it wouldn't be that simple.

"I won't have you gaping!"

Madam Pomfrey descends on them in a way that makes Neville flinch out of instinctive guilt, but Hermione turns to her with such huge eyes that she falters.

"Can we just see Colin, just once?" Hermione whispers. "I promise that we won't disturb him. We just want to see him."

Madam Pomfrey hesitates, and then she nods in a clipped way. "The poor dear hasn't had any other visitors," she murmurs, leading them over to a curtained bed that stands against the far wall. Neville looks at the bed next to it, then away. That must be where Terry Boot is. "No one seems to like him."

Neville swallows. He thinks that people not liking Colin is down to him, unfortunately. People saw that Neville was annoyed when Colin went around snapping photos of him, and they avoided Colin, too.

Or maybe they're just scared now that two people have been Petrified.

Madam Pomfrey swishes the curtains back, and Neville chokes back a cry. He didn't realize how unnatural the Petrified people would look. Colin's hands are raised above his head, right above his eyes, and he's gaping up at them.

"What happened?" Ron demands in a hushed voice.

Neville thinks that Madam Pomfrey won't answer, because it's not like she knows, either, but the mediwitch gives a small sniffle and wipes at her eyes with the corner of her sleeve. "They found him looking through his camera. Steam came out of it, and all the film inside was melted, Headmaster Dumbledore says."

Neville shifts uncomfortably. He knows that no other students would get this information out of Madam Pomfrey, who most of the time is very professional. She's only telling them because she thinks they're Colin's friends, and because Neville is the Boy-Who-Lived, probably.

Does it matter, if it helps us solve the mystery and wake Colin up?

Neville sort of wants to say it matters, but he doesn't know the words.

"What could do that?" Hermione whispers.

"I don't know, I'm sure." Already Madam Pomfrey is getting back to her usual ordered self, sweeping her robes shut and looking pointedly towards the door of the hospital wing. "And I'll thank you not to tell others that you saw him. The last thing he needs is more people in here gaping."

Neville nods, and Ron and Hermione nod with him, and they walk out. Everyone is quiet. Neville thinks that all of them realized how serious this was, but none of them expected Colin to look like that.

It's even more serious than I thought.

"What are we going to do?" Hermione asks halfway back to Gryffindor Tower, breaking the silence that has wrapped all of them since they left the hospital wing. "I want to do something! But how can we stop something that does that?"

"Listen. I have an idea."

Neville glances over at Ron, half-hopeful. He's never heard Ron sound so serious. He stops in the middle of the corridor and glances around again to make sure no one is spying on them, and then nods to Ron. "What is it?"

"The Heir of Slytherin has to be a Slytherin, right?"

"Well, yeah," Neville says. "But Slytherin's family supposedly died out a long—"

"I didn't mean the bloodline. I meant the House. Why would the Heir let themselves be Sorted anywhere other than Slytherin?"

"I don't think that's quite how the Sorting works," Hermione begins.

"You told us that it is, Hermione! You were the one who said that the Hat takes your preferences into account, or you would have ended up in Ravenclaw with that weird Potter kid."

Neville winces a little, but doesn't attempt to defend Harry. That isn't really the point right now, and Ron wouldn't listen anyway.

Hermione has flushed bright pink. "Well, yes, that's true."

"And you know that someone who knew they were the Heir of Slytherin and came back to school to continue his horrible legacy would also want to be Sorted into the right House! The House of Dark wizards!"

Neville nods reluctantly. Even though part of the fuzziness in his head that he thinks means he was Obliviated is waving a frantic hand, what Ron says makes sense, and they don't have any leads on the actual location of the Chamber of Secrets. They might as well try and track down the Heir instead.

"So we should hunt them," Ron says, and his eyes are shining with satisfaction. "And I say we start with Draco Malfoy."