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Chapter Forty-Two—Reactions

"Something happened."

Blaise smiles as he sits down on the couch beside Theo. It matters, to him, that his best friend outside Harry can tell the instant he walks back into the Slytherin common room that something has changed.

Or maybe my best friend. Harry is something more than a friend now.

"Are you going to tell me?"

Theo's voice is edged, and Blaise realizes that his friend took his silence the wrong way. He smiles a little at him and puts up a Privacy Charm. "Harry and I agreed that we'll start dating today."

Theo blinks and stares at him for a moment. Blaise stares back. Did Theo think Blaise wanted to date girls or something? They've never discussed it, so Blaise doesn't know why he would have got that impression.

"Well," Theo says at last, and a small smile glides across his face as if he's trying and failing to suppress it. "That's exciting. Congratulations to you both."

"Thank you," Blaise says, and lounges back against the couch while he drops the Privacy Charm. "I wanted to ask what kind of progress you were making on the boggart front."

Theo closes his eyes for a moment, more because of the new subject than because they've switched so abruptly away from the one of him and Harry dating, Blaise knows. Then Theo nods and takes out a parchment that's covered with lightly scribbled notes. "I've looked up different spells, but pretty much all the books agree that Riddikulus is the most powerful spell that can kill or banish a boggart, and—well, we'll have to just keep thinking of ways to make our deepest fears funny."

"Pretty much?"

"What?"

"You said pretty much all the books agree that Riddikulus is the best way. What about the others?"

Theo opens his eyes, and his smile is back to its more normal self, sharp-edged and shining. "I hope I never have a single day without the company of someone observant enough to listen to what I say."

Blaise smiles back, but waits for the answer, and Theo nods to him, whipping out a large book from the bag that he always carries around with him. "All right, look at this one. It says that there's a Dark Arts spell that traps the boggart in its own magic and makes it essentially rot there, unable to affect you any longer."

Blaise leans forwards, but does feel compelled to point out, "You know that Lupin isn't going to like us using Dark Arts in his class."

"So we don't tell him that it's Dark Arts."

"Wouldn't he notice?"

"It's an obscure spell. I haven't found any mentions of it outside this one book, which is not one that I borrowed from our dear professor. I think we can get away with it as long as we can practice it before we face the boggart in class again."

Blaise isn't actually sure that they will face the boggart in class again, not any time soon. It seems like the kind of thing that Lupin might put on an exam, but he's had them face it in class and that lesson is over. It makes sense that he would prefer they spend their time on something else.

However, neither Blaise nor Theo wants to spend their time on something else until they can conquer the boggart and the freezing fear it inspires in them. So Blaise shifts closer and begins reading the spell from the book that Theo willingly holds out.

Remus eats his porridge mechanically, eyes downcast. Last night was the full moon, and he knows he's still pale and trembling, enough to earn a few sharp glances from his students.

It was so much harder without Sirius. Even though he's spent a few full moons alone over the years they were on the quest when Sirius had a clue to chase that couldn't wait, this was—

The possibility of never seeing Padfoot again, never romping with him, having him calm the wolf, is—

Remus bites his lip hard enough that he knows he's probably bleeding, and concentrates once more on the porridge.

He looks up when there's a minor commotion at the Ravenclaw table. Harry is standing up and laughing at something said by one of his friends. Then he walks over the Slytherin table—almost runs—and takes Mr. Zabini's hand. Zabini is also smiling at Harry, and there's something bright and full in that smile that scares Remus more than the moonlight ever could.

They're together. Boyfriends?

Remus shivers. This will bring the Zabinis a chance to corrupt Harry so deep that he doesn't know if James's son will ever recover from it.

He keeps watching as Harry and Zabini part with a few more quiet words to each other—too quiet to be heard even if the Great Hall were almost silent, Remus thinks, and even with his ears. He watches Harry as he walks back to his place at the Ravenclaw table, then glances at the Slytherin one and finds Zabini watching him.

Zabini shakes his head a little, eyes full of warning. Then he returns to his breakfast and appears to fall into a conversation with Theo Nott.

Remus frowns. Nott hasn't reported anything to him about the two boys lately. It might be time to remind him of the deal he made for books and the kinds of things Remus expects for his side of the bargain.

"But why would he be upset about us dating as opposed to just being friends?"

"He seems to think that if you're really in love with Blaise, you'll do things for him that you wouldn't if you were just friends."

Harry snorts, and Theo watches as he leans back against Blaise. They're in a corner of the library where almost no one comes due to it just being around a shelf from Madam Pince's desk. Honestly, Theo thinks that other students' terror of the librarian is exaggerated.

Or maybe it's just that he's too consumed with wistfulness to feel terror. It's clear, now, that he will never be as close to Harry and Blaise as they will to each other.

But he's never thought that he wants a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, for that matter. What he wants is friends. And he doesn't think that Harry and Blaise will abandon him unless Theo does something unthinkable like betray them.

"He's ridiculous if he really thinks that our friendship was that weak."

Theo brings himself back to the conversation. "Sorry, what do you mean? I thought he believed your friendship was strong and that was the problem."

"Just that if he really thinks we only care about each other since we started dating, he's stupid."

"He's best friends with Black. We already knew he was stupid."

Harry laughs, turning to Blaise with an adoring look on his face that makes Theo glance aside for a moment. Yes, he isn't truly jealous and he doesn't need them to include him in every gesture they make, but he doesn't necessarily want to watch them share a tenderness that he can't experience, either.

"You still matter, Theo."

And now he's been obvious. Theo frowns a little as he lifts his eyes to Harry's face. "I know that. I will always matter to myself, if nothing else."

Harry is leaning forwards, a smile on his face that seems to have fooled some of the other Slytherins into thinking him sweet and naive. Theo nearly laughed himself sick the first time he heard that rumor.

"I mean that you matter to me. And Blaise. You're one of the first people I ever trusted with Artemis, and I never would have done that if I thought you were disposable or likely to need rejection in the future. You matter."

Theo blushes for being obvious about it, but something in him does settle. He would believe and accept the words coming from Blaise, too, but Blaise is a Slytherin, and they have more in common than Theo and Harry do. It's going to soothe Theo more that Harry has also claimed him as a friend.

Artemis hisses at him from Harry's arm, and Theo smiles despite himself. He loves snakes. "What did she say?"

"That I'm not allowed to get rid of you, because she likes you."

Theo laughs, and just shrugs an apology when Madam Pince comes around the corner of the shelf to scowl at them.

"Could you stay after class please, Harry?"

Harry sighs. After Theo's little "talk" with Lupin, he knew this was coming. He didn't know it would be so soon, though. Theo told Lupin enough half-truths that he should have been satisfied for a week, anyway.

But now Anthony and Padma are stepping out of Lupin's classroom with little anxious glances at him, and Lupin is using his wand to lock the door. Harry turns around and presses his arm against Artemis's squirming form to still her. "Yes, sir?"

"I wanted to know if you're dating Blaise Zabini."

"Yes, sir."

Lupin pauses as if he were expecting more evasions. That's Slytherins, Harry wants to say. Ravenclaws are blunt, we just never talk about half of what we're thinking anyway.

"Do you know what could happen as a result of you dating Mr. Zabini?"

"I get snogged a lot?"

Lupin's hand spasms on his wand. Harry continues watching him with wide eyes and a bright smile. He will act as innocent as he can, and he hopes that he can make the expression on Lupin's face change several times. The way his eyes bug out is already entertaining on its own.

Lupin coughs. "You could—you could fall into the Dark Arts and not even realize it, Harry."

I've already jumped headlong into them. "I was wondering if you could indulge me in a technical debate, sir? What exactly do you think Dark Arts are?"

"Spells designed to cause pain, kill, or ensnare the mind of anyone they are cast upon."

Harry nods. It's sort of the definition he expected, based on some of the books he read, the legal basis that the Ministry uses to classify the Imperius, Cruciatus, and Killing Curse as Unforgivables. "So that would include any kind of charm or spell that intrudes on someone's free will, right, sir? Even a vow or a compulsion charm?"

Lupin is at least smart enough to be wary, which probably wouldn't be true of Black at this juncture. "Well, vows are taken willingly…but that's only true most of the time. I suppose that a vow taken under duress would count as Dark Arts."

Harry beams at him. "What about a geas to prevent someone from speaking the truth as they know it, sir? Even if it's an important truth that they want to share freely? But instead, they're being forced to keep it to themselves?"

Lupin takes a deep breath and appears to hold it. Then he releases it in a noisy rush. "I assume you are speaking of the geas that Headmaster Dumbledore set up to stop you from telling people I'm a werewolf."

"Yes, sir!"

Lupin apparently doesn't know what to do with Harry's chipper tone. He says, "It doesn't count as Dark Arts if it protects someone else."

"Oh, okay. So if someone made me swear an oath under duress to protect you, even though I don't like you, that wouldn't count as Dark Arts?"

"Harry, that is not—"

"I did say it was a very technical debate, sir."

Lupin sighs and stares at him as if Harry is his worst nightmare come to life. If that's true, though, Harry feels kind of sorry for him. Imagine being so weak that you'd rather face Harry than Aradia.

I can't imagine it.

"You will keep the geas and stop trying to tell people that I'm a werewolf, if that's what you're doing," Lupin says tiredly. "And you should know that I will be very disappointed if you learn Dark Arts with the Zabinis."

"Well, I suppose that fits."

"What fits what?"

"You're disappointed in me for my choices, and I'm disappointed in you for yours. Although I will say that until a few years ago, I was just a child who didn't even know that what I was doing was really magic, and you were an adult who could Apparate from place to place and could have come to visit if I was really important to you."

"Harry—"

Harry turns and looks pointedly at the door of the classroom. Lupin opens it with a helpless little sigh. He must know as well as Harry that Harry probably couldn't manage the counter to the Locking Charm, not on the first try, but he also knows who holds the power here.

Anthony and Padma are waiting for him. Anthony starts to speak, but Harry waves a hand at them and leads them away from the classroom. They follow willingly. They might not know about Lupin's great senses as a werewolf, but they're allergic to the idea of a teacher overhearing them complain about said teacher, too.

"That—that git!" Anthony bursts out, when they come to a halt almost at the bottom of the steps to Ravenclaw Tower and Harry tells them what happened.

"He really thinks that you would use Dark Arts?"

Harry knows that he has to be cautious of the tone in Padma's voice and the way she winds her hair around one finger as she frowns at him. But he knows how to do it. He laughs a little. "He thinks that vows and geases are Dark Arts, Padma. Just because they affect someone's mind."

"Never mind, he's an idiot."

Harry smiles and nods and continues to deflect dangerous lines of conversation until he's curled up on his bed. Then Artemis flows out onto his arm and stares at him, flickering her tongue back and forth.

"I hate the werewolf more than the dog."

"Why is that?"

"Perhaps the dog has always been insane and quick of temper. But the werewolf seems more controlled. He could have come and visited you if he'd wanted. He could have opposed the dog and made him listen. But he did not, because he is a coward." Artemis's tongue flickers out even faster. "I hate cowards more than the insane."

"You would have been a Gryffindor if the Hat could have Sorted you."

That sends Artemis into all sorts of protestations about why she wouldn't have been a Gryffindor that are frankly far more entertaining to listen to than Harry thinks they should be. He lies back on his pillow and listens to her, and manages to forget about Lupin for a little while.

Blaise knows that he can't stop smiling and that it's probably a little odd, but honestly, the letter from his mother was all that he was hoping for.

My son, you have chosen well. Harry is not only powerful but loyal to you, and he does not care at all about the rumors surrounding us. You will be able to trust him with every truth in your life, and that means with your life and magic and heart. I hope that you will be lucky forever, so much luckier than I was.

Blaise tucks the letter away in his robe pocket after casting a Preservation Charm on the ink. He already knows that he's going to keep it for years and look back on it often.

"Zabini."

Blaise gives Pansy Parkinson a curious look as she takes a seat on the other side of the little round table in the Slytherin common room where usually only he and Theo sit. Theo is in the library researching a tricky Transfiguration spell, so he won't be back for a while. "Parkinson."

Parkinson lowers her eyes. She said some antagonistic things about Harry last year, and Blaise honestly doesn't know what she's doing here. He just waits, while she fidgets with her hands.

Then she says, "I don't have especially powerful magic."

"I know," Blaise murmurs, although he wonders why she's admitting it. And why she thinks it's a weakness. Parkinson has more finesse than most of their year and often masters the tricky little charms that Flitwick likes to show them first.

"But there are things I can do. I know all of my roommates' secrets and a good portion of the older students'."

"Why would you sell them to me? For what?"

"Trade them to you. And for your protection, and your alliance. Yours and Potter's." Parkinson pauses for a second. "And Theo's."

"I didn't know you and Theo were on a first-name basis."

"We were when we were children. We haven't been for a while now."

"I can't say that either Harry or Theo would agree to this without asking them," Blaise says slowly. As a matter of fact, he thinks that Harry probably will agree, since he doesn't have any grudge in particular against Parkinson and will just be acting based off what Blaise says about her. But Theo is likely to be more upset or feel that he's being pushed out of his place. "But I'll talk to them about it."

"Thank you, Zabini."

Parkinson looks so relieved that Blaise can't keep himself from asking, "What are you worried about? I can see why some people might want this alliance, but you're a pureblood from a powerful and wealthy family."

"I don't want to be forced to choose my allegiance."

Blaise is about to reply that she wouldn't be, but then he sees the narrowing of her eyes. He nods slowly. She's probably thinking about the way that Dumbledore and the Dark Lord have the kind of magical power that could force her family to make the choice, even if they have more political power than a lot of people.

Parkinson smiles at him and slips away just as Theo sweeps back into the common room. He doesn't miss her departure, of course, and sits down stiffly beside Blaise. "Why was she here?"

Blaise starts to explain.

Aradia is smiling as she lands, again, at the far edge of the wards around the Potter house in Godric's Hollow. She is glad that her boys have found each other. They are so young, of course, that their dating might not last, but it will at least deepen their knowledge of each other's characters and bond them more firmly.

She is not worried about either of them starting to hate the other because of this. That kind of thing is not in Harry's personality and not in Blaise's. They will only learn, and know, and grow, and love.

Aradia puts the thoughts out of her mind. She is pleased, but she has come here for some other purpose than to daydream about the future.

She stands watching and listening for long enough that she's sure there's no sensitive intruder ward here. It was her magical efforts last time that alerted Augusta Longbottom, not her mere presence.

Content with that, Aradia sifts the handful of silver rock dust she's carrying to the ground. By itself, it's magically inert, but when brought into contact with wards, it shows their outline better than any other material.

The rock dust stays still for an endless moment. Then it rises and begins to drift on the wind.

Aradia watches as it hits the edge of the wards and sparkles. In a few seconds, she has a replica of the intricate silver structure that she viewed in the Pensieve looming before her. There's a chaste beauty to it that she has to admire.

Or would admire, if it were not that the wards were used in a way that disgusts her.

Or likely used. Even now, Aradia has to admit that she does not understand the full story of what happened the night Neville Longbottom became the Boy-Who-Lived.

She gazes at the wards and does not touch them, merely moving her eyes carefully over the knots and sharp edges and bright places and dim places. And then she nods as the conviction slowly steals over her.

There was an altering of reality that happened here. But it had nothing to do with the events that led to Neville Longbottom surviving the Killing Curse.

Not directly, at any rate. Augusta Longbottom couldn't make the Killing Curse not kill. And she didn't make the sacrifice that Alice Longbottom did to ensure her son lived.

But she did create a small pocket of expanding time within the wards. One that altered reality there, and slowly spread out afterwards, altering reality pace by pace, mile by mile, day by day, across Britain. It would make sense that Black and Lupin, who spent so much time outside the country, have substantially different memories of the events that happened that night than anyone else does.

But, Aradia has to admit, that doesn't necessarily make them more accurate. Even they do not remember Harry as being the Boy-Who-Lived, which Aradia originally thought Augusta might have taken steps to conceal. And Aradia, who was nowhere near Britain when Augusta's pocket of reality took hold, certainly always heard of Neville Longbottom as the Boy-Who-Lived and not Harry Potter.

No, it will be something else. She will investigate.

And she will keep track of what happens once that little spreading pocket of reality begins to reverse and turn back on itself, and eventually collapses.

Because no magic can last forever.

"Look, can I talk to you?"

The voice isn't at all familiar, which is one reason that Harry turns around in the first place and blinks at the speaker. She's shorter than he is and wearing a Gryffindor tie and a hunted expression, but it's really the red hair that gives her away.

"What do you want, Weasley?"

Weasley draws herself back with a little tremor of her mouth. "I never did anything to you," she whispers. "Maybe Ron did, but I didn't."

Harry wishes he could say all sorts of things about what being suspected as the Heir of Slytherin in the past year did to him, but he does have to admit that Weasley didn't directly impact him, because she was busy being possessed. He takes a short breath. "I have no interest in talking to you about anything."

"But I want to talk to you!"

Artemis twists in Harry's pocket, hissing indignation that he won't let her out. Her opinion is that Neville probably already told all his friends that Harry is a Parselmouth, so she might as well appear and bite Weasley. But Harry doesn't know that for certain, so he pins Artemis with his elbow and shakes his head. "I just have no interest in it."

He turns his back and then has to duck a charm that comes hurtling past him. A Sticking Charm, he sees when he raises his head in time to see purple light blow itself out against the wall. Weasley probably just got frustrated and wanted Harry to stay in place so much that she tried to stick his feet to the floor.

Still.

She attacked him with magic.

Harry turns around, and at the sight of his face, Weasley squeaks and scrambles backwards. Harry doesn't even have to draw his wand. He knows some of the Slytherins have the kind of fearsome reputations that could cow other people, but he never has. If anything, he thought he had the opposite.

But it doesn't matter. He meets Weasley's eyes and says, "You won't ever try to do that to me again."

"I—fine, never again. But can't I just talk to you?"

"No." Harry knows already that nothing Ginny Weasley can say will be anything he wants to hear.

"People are hexing me in the corridors because of you!"

"I didn't do anything to you."

"You told people I was the Heir of Slytherin!"

"No, I didn't."

The plain truth seems to make Weasley splutter, and Harry watches her, wondering if she will be clever enough to decide that Harry dropped hints that would allow other people to figure out she had the diary. Instead, she comes up with, "Well, they told me that you did it because you were upset that people thought you were the Heir of Slytherin!"

"I still didn't tell them that."

"I don't believe you!"

"It doesn't really matter to me what you believe," Harry says evenly. They're alone between classes right now, but only for a few moments, he knows. Third-year Charms and second-year Potions must have both let out early and only Harry and thus Weasley chose to come this way, but people will flood the corridors any second. "I didn't expose you, even though Merlin knows you deserve it."

"I am not the Heir of Slytherin!"

The first people trickle out of the Transfiguration classroom behind Weasley, and the one in the lead, a tall Ravenclaw Harry thinks plays on the Quidditch team, blurts, "What?"

Weasley turns bright red as she spins around. Harry gives her his best mean smile and darts away. There's sharp brilliance playing in his soul, the kind of light that reflects off knives when someone's holding them.

He didn't expose Weasley. If people have questions about this, it will be because she was careless enough to speak about them in a public place.

He does see Neville standing with Weasley before he completely turns the corner, one arm around her shoulders and his chin uplifted, but he doesn't linger. Neville can defend the downtrodden if he wants. It's what he's good for.