Teamwork

19 -- Known and Hidden Faces

"Oh," Harry said, pulling Draco a little closer and rubbing his face against Draco's neck. "I've missed this."

"Waking up hours before breakfast?"

"Waking up with you. Those few days this summer weren't nearly enough."

"I'd like it better if you could stay," Draco returned wistfully, following the comment with a kiss.

"I probably won't get in much trouble--"

"No!" Draco let out a quick breath. "Don't let her catch you. I really want to do this again."

"Okay."

Despite that resolve, washing and dressing were slowed by looks and touches and kisses and promises of "later." When Draco, who had insisted on going first, opened the door to the larger seventh-year Slytherin boys' dormitory, the occupants were still in bed.

"Harry?" Blaise said, looking out groggily from his bed. "What are you doing in-- Never mind. Don't answer that. Stupid question."

From the other bed, Theodore Nott exploded to his feet, grabbed his dressing gown and something from his bedside table, and stormed from the room.

"He doesn't like you much," Blaise commented. "Do be careful." He sank back down to his pillow. "And quiet, please."

"Got that, thanks," Harry said, crossing the room to the next door.

"Harry!" Draco exclaimed, belatedly darting after him, and Harry, who had opened the door, turned.

"GOT you!"

A hand grabbed his shoulder roughly, and shoved something cold past his collar. Harry was already shouting out a disarming spell as he turned. A heavy body flew back, crashing into one of the massive common room sofas and dropping to the floor with a thump. Inside Harry's shirt, the cold thing was heavy and hard, but it didn't hurt. Susara moved across his neck, apparently unharmed. Every source of fire in the room flared into life at once -- Draco's doing, Harry thought -- blinding them all.

Slowly, Harry focused through the brightness. Theodore Nott had raised himself to his elbows and was staring at Harry in horror. To the sides, Harry was aware of a few younger Slytherins, all staying very still.

Harry let out a long breath. Draco, his wand out and fixed on Nott, stepped forward.

"Are you okay?" he asked, with only a twist of his chin to indicate he was speaking to Harry.

"I seem to be." Harry opened his robes and undid a few buttons on his shirt.

"Master?" Susara asked.

"Upper arm," Harry ordered, not caring who was listening. "Stay still." He didn't want her near the unknown object, which had fallen to his waist. By reaching inside with one hand, lifting the shirt fabric at the back with the other, and twisting sideways, he managed to catch the hard thing. It felt smooth and round in his hand. He pulled it out, and found himself looking at a marble -- a large shooter, with a coiling black snake inside nearly clear glass.

"Was I supposed to scream?" he asked, holding it out to Nott. "I'm not afraid of snakes, you know."

Nott's eyes widened even further. Rather than take the thing, he crab-walked back toward the wall. Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he said, and tucked the marble into his school bag.

"Perhaps I should accompany you," Draco said smoothly.

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "We should probably talk."

They left Slytherin without further incident, and Draco set a fast pace down a bewildering tangle of corridors. Harry suspected he was avoiding predictable paths to discourage anyone who might try to follow them.

"Where are we going?" he asked, after the third turn.

"Where do you think?"

"Well, we should have someone look at that marble."

"'Someone' being?"

"I was thinking of Professor Hecksban."

Draco shook his head. "No. Severus. We already know you can trust him--"

"But I was in Slytherin!"

"Which we know he doesn't mind. We just need some excuse that he can pretend to believe."

"I came to fetch you for a romantic sunrise stroll?"

Draco sniffed. "As if you would."

"I might, if I'd never gone to sleep."

Draco laughed. "All right, then!"

Snape wrenched the door open and glared out at them. His scowl faltered with surprise, and reformed into a more reserved scorn.

"The little princes, I see. Does your arrival at this hour indicate a crisis, or merely your usual lack of consideration?"

"I'm not actually sure if it's a crisis--"

"What Harry means, sir," Draco said crisply, "is that we require your expertise to evaluate the risk posed by an attack."

"Right," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "What he said."

For a moment, Snape just pinched the bridge of his nose. "Very well," he said finally. "Come inside. Sit on the sofa, and do not touch anything."

The warning seemed excessive -- after all, they had both been here before -- until Harry was inside the room and realized that Snape had been marking. Piles of essays were spread over the table in front of the sofa, and the smaller table between the sofa and the chair, some with sealed potion samples beside them. Snape firecalled the kitchen for more tea and took a swallow from his own cup before carrying it with him to the chair. "Please explain," he said.

Harry and Draco looked at each other. "Well," Harry said, "I'd gone down to Slytherin early to fetch Draco--"

Snape looked heavenward. "Of course you had."

"Well, Parvati says sunrise over the lake is very romantic--"

"The lake is west of here, Potter."

"Exactly. So you need time to walk around it."

Snape snorted. It wasn't a laugh, exactly, but from him, it was nearly as good. "Pray continue, Potter. You were, for whatever no doubt entirely innocent reason, in Slytherin at some ungodly hour of the morning. What happened?"

"Nott shoved something down my shirt."

Snape's eyebrows rose. "Something?" he repeated mockingly. "Ice? Caterpillars? Sickles?"

Harry grinned. "A marble." He fished the item out of his bag. "And it didn't do anything to me, but he seemed surprised by that."

Snape did not take the offered item. Instead, he drew his wand and began to cast spells at it. Harry recognized two of the incantations as ones they had learned in Cursebreaking. After another dozen of these, Snape sat back, puzzled. "Set it on the table," he instructed. His next spell made the marble glow orange, and he let out a little "ah" of satisfaction. Picking up the marble, he looked at it for a moment, tossed it in the air, and caught it.

"It is not actually cursed," he said. "And, in this place, it does nothing."

"Excuse me?" Harry asked.

"Three years ago, that would not have been the case."

"Oh!" Harry said. He was well aware of what magical items no longer worked at Hogwarts. "It's a Portkey! Right?"

"Exactly. It is not common knowledge that they are now nullified by extensions to the magic that prevents Apparation. Theodore was expecting you to vanish from Slytherin and reappear in some other place -- no doubt one that he believed you could not escape from."

"Shouldn't it be common knowledge, Severus?" Draco objected. "My flight to Hogwarts was related in some detail at this summer's trial."

Snape nodded. "Your reasoning, however, was never stated. I expect that the Dark Lord has deduced that had a Portkey been able to bring you into Hogwarts, you would have found some way to anchor the device closer to your destination. It seems likely, therefore, that this scheme is of Mr. Nott's own devising -- or that of one of his less intelligent relatives."

Harry nodded at the marble. "Would you like to keep it?"

"Yes," Snape said, with a sharp nod. He opened a drawer in the nearby table and dropped the marble into it, just as a House Elf appeared with a tea service. The elf looked at the parchment-strewn surfaces around it, and then at its tray. Moving the tray to one hand, he snapped his fingers, summoning a table just large enough for the tray and a few well-positioned saucers. With a bow and a squeaked 'your tea, sirs!" he vanished, leaving the tea service behind.

"You might as well sit," Snape said. "I've seen little enough of you since school started, Draco."

"I've been busy--"

"Yes, yes. And when you come this way it is to visit those horrid creatures--"

"They're sweet," Harry broke in. "It just takes about four weeks...."

"Four weeks that I do not have," Snape said testily. "There are enough dangers to encountering my former associates without depriving myself of my best weapons."

"Are you, er, staying in touch with them, sir?" Harry asked, after a sip of the tea. "Or do you mean encounters by chance?"

Snape acknowledged the worth of the question with a nod. "Some of each. Draco is certainly aware that I remain in contact with his mother. I have ceased to fear a direct threat from that quarter, but the first meetings were a gamble. One of my suppliers I had to drop completely after he 'accidentally' mispackaged an explosive combination of potions components."

"Was there collateral damage?" Draco asked dryly.

"Fortunately, I had been unable to sleep, and so unpacked the order before the Runespoor venom had time to drip through the Peryton feathers to the Fairy floss, so it was merely some sickness from the residue of the counteracted venom."

Harry ended up going straight from Snape's rooms to the Great Hall, and arriving at breakfast too late to be inconspicuous. Deciding he might as well face the music, Harry acknowledged his beckoning roommates and walked over to sit with them.

"Have a pleasant night?" Seamus asked jovially.

Harry pretended not to notice Hermione's glare. "Brilliant, thanks," he answered blandly. Seamus didn't need to be so loud about it. "Though I woke up far too early. And you?"

"About the same as usual." Seamus raised his eyebrows, but his voice dropped. "And I'd have said you woke up late."

"Oh, no," Harry replied blithely. His stories might as well match. "I got up very early, and decided to invite Draco for a sunrise walk around the lake."

Hermione's brow wrinkled. Glancing around, Harry found he was getting some strange looks from his housemates. Snape had just assumed he was lying, but the Gryffindors seemed to be struggling with that.

"I'm not sure I believe that," Hermione said finally. Harry shrugged.

"Believe what you will."

Anxiously, she twisted her napkin in her hands. "Harry, I really think--"

She was interrupted by the headmaster getting to his feet and tapping on his juice glass for silence.

"Good morning, everyone. I will be repeating this announcement at dinner, but as most of you who expressed an interest are here now, I see no reason to wait. In answer to repeated requests for mixed-house space, the room next to the library is now available for socialization."

Harry found himself starting to grin. Parvati reached across the table to catch his hand in a tight squeeze. Students who had been unaware of the request began to murmur to each other.

"It will be open from the end of lessons until dinner every weekday," Dumbledore continued, and Harry watched Parvati frown as if he was looking into some sort of magical carnival mirror. Was that all? "To prevent problems, staff members have agreed to supervise."

Harry made a face at Parvati, who answered with a little shrug. He looked over her shoulder and across the room at Draco, who was examining his nails with a bland expression on his face. Harry sighed. Dumbledore's version of the room wouldn't do at all.

Before the whispers could resolve, they were interrupted by the arrival of the morning post. Owls swooped in with their burdens, and the previous discussion was put on hold as Harry and Hermione read the Sun over Dean's shoulder.

After breakfast, Harry hoped he would be able to escape while Hermione scoured the Prophet for news. He looked at Ron, who gave him a nod, and they got to their feet and waved a quick goodbye to anyone who was looking. Across the room, Draco stood also, and preceded them to the door.

At first, he thought it would work. Their path was even with the staff table before Harry heard footsteps behind them. In the doorway to the Entrance Hall, Hermione caught at his arm.

"Don't think you're getting away that easily!" she chided as they moved out of sight of the Great Hall. Draco was waiting, leaning against the railing of the grand staircase. "You didn't come back to Gryffindor after practice last night, and I don't believe you've been there yet."

"And if I wasn't?"

"Harry, you are not allowed to stay out all night! I'm not supposed to let you. I should be going to Professor McGonagall right now!"

"Wrong tack," Draco advised, in an amused voice, as he strolled over. "And he would have been around, if Theo hadn't attacked him. That meant going to Professor Snape, and it all got rather out of hand." He nodded at Ron. "Good morning, Weasley. Are you ready for our expedition?"

Hermione rubbed her forehead. "Ron?" she asked. People were starting to emerge from the Great Hall now.

"I invited him to meet the Quiris," Draco said smoothly.

"Oh!" Hermione rocked up on her toes, her eyes widening. "Are they here?"

A group of passing Hufflepuffs shot them surreptitious glances as Draco rolled his eyes. "Harry! I am taking care of creatures that guarantee I am not performing any Dark Arts. Why are you not mentioning this to your housemates?"

"Had you wanted me to?"

"Yes."

Harry mimicked Draco's eye roll. "Then tell me," he said. Some lower-year Slytherins were approaching, which reminded him of Draco's analysis of how their houses determined who was in charge. "You're the Slytherin. You can play with indirect messages all you want, but if you want something from me, say so."

"I thought it was obvious--"

"I've just been thinking what a nuisance it is."

The Slytherins had moved on. With a huff, Draco turned to Hermione. "Miss Granger," he said politely. "Would you like to accompany us to see the Quiris?"

"Please!" Hermione said, her voice quick with eagerness. "I never did get to meet one."

The four of them walked down to the dungeons together, getting a few strange looks in passing. The Quiris, Harry discovered, really were housed quite close to Professor Snape's private apartments, but when they entered the room, he could see sunlight outlining the pale fur of one of the leggy creatures.

He had forgotten how sweet they were. He had known that would be true, but still, it took all the will he had not to join Hermione and Ron in rushing to pet them. Ron's cry of delight, he noted carefully, was only slightly more restrained than Hermione's.

Draco lingered at his elbow. "Something I should know about?" he whispered, his eyes narrowing.

"No," Harry said deliberately. "I'm just trying." Cheefi, he remembered, looking at the paler Quiri. He desperately wanted to stroke his soft fur, as Hermione was currently doing. "Why is there sunlight?" he asked, working at focusing on something else.

Sighing, Draco took Harry's hand. "Because this room is magically connected to one on the second floor," he said. "Now let it go. Come." He pulled Harry towards the Quiris, and Harry went. Cheefi's fur was as soft as he remembered. Hermione released a soft breath as the nearly-white Quiri swung onto Harry's lap, and Harry rubbed his face against his mane.

"I'm so glad, Harry," she said. "I was worried when you held back."

"I was just seeing if I could," Harry explained again, although it seemed rather silly now, with Cheefi chittering at him and grooming his hair.

"Why?"

"Because this is Harry," Draco answered sardonically, perching on the arm of nearby chair. "He has an inherent need to do everything in the most difficult manner possible."

"I don't like things messing with my mind, that's all." Harry couldn't get upset about it, at the moment, but he still knew that was what it was.

"Yet you drink," Hermione prodded.

Harry thought about that. She had a point, really. "It messes more with my body," he said finally, "when I do, which really isn't often. And my mood, I guess, but it doesn't make me want to do things that I wouldn't normally want to do."

"Do the Quiris?"

"Yes. When I first met Tuktuk, I wanted to confess to Dumbledore, and do you remember what Draco said to Professor Horsyr, that time?"

"Hm," Draco said thoughtfully. "So you normally wanted to lie down with your head in my lap, did you?"

Harry blinked. He vaguely remembered that, in the manner of a blurry photograph, from the night before Draco had left for Easter. "Maybe?" he hazarded. "Okay, so that's a point for her, but I also wouldn't want to drink that much again. Ever."

"When was this?" Ron looked confused. Harry hadn't realized he was listening.

"A few hours before you found me hurling in the loo."

"Ah." Ron's hand moved slowly over Tuktuk's fur. "Last spring."

"Yeah."

"Seamus hasn't looked worried about you, this year." Ron frowned. "Except for last night."

Harry suddenly remembered how loud Seamus had been at breakfast. "That was it! He was checking if I was hungover."

"What?" Draco asked, confused. Cheefi moved to him, climbing up on one shoulder and wrapping his tail across his neck to the other one.

"Seamus. He greeted me very loudly this morning. I'd thought he was just putting me on the spot, but he was probably just seeing if I'd wince. Afterwards, he was okay."

"Were you drinking? After I left, I mean?" Ron winced at the sound of his own words.

"Ronald!" Hermione reproved.

"No," Harry answered, as if she hadn't spoken.

"You told me you hadn't seen him!" Hermione continued.

Ron reddened. "Hadn't wanted to admit that I'd voluntarily spent an hour in the same room as Malfoy. Anyway, it had been a while by the time I got back."

It had been more like three hours, as Harry remembered it, but he supposed Ron was creating some extra time afterwards by making their visit shorter. Hermione sat back with a dissatisfied huff. Harry looked over at Draco, and found him studying Ron. Perhaps he hadn't realized that Harry wasn't the only Gryffindor who could lie to his friends. "Hermione," Harry said, "just let it go, all right?"

"You were out all night!"

"And if I was, what of it?" Harry returned. "That would just be ventures into sex. I have the impression you started that earlier than I did."

Ron's face was burning by now. "We never did that much," he claimed.

Hermione sighed. "We did stay out together," she admitted, "but you scolded me for it."

"I scolded you for being missing so often."

"And this time you were missing!"

"For one night! And I'm not a prefect."

"I don't think it was a problem for you because I was a prefect. It was a problem for you because you needed me."

"And did you need me, last night?"

Hermione's shoulders slumped forward. "I suppose not. I do worry about you, though, and you can't tell me I shouldn't."

"You shouldn't! And believe me, I wouldn't have said anything last year, if you hadn't been a prefect."

At Harry's angry claim, Cheefi swung down from Draco's shoulder and took up a spot between them, patting first Hermione's face and then Harry's. Hermione giggled.

"I guess he doesn't want us to fight," Harry said.

"Mm. And I'm starting to see what you mean about them affecting your mind."

"You get acclimated to it," Draco volunteered, coming down to join them on the floor. "Though Frieda's tendency to want everyone to hug and make up makes a little more sense to me now."

Harry hadn't heard Draco call Horsyr "Frieda" before, but he supposed he would, since they had interacted after school. She was definitely the sort of person who would make the offer as soon as she was no longer his professor. Draco was looking almost anxiously between him and Hermione. "Is there anything it might be helpful to ask now?" he asked. "While you can't get too upset?"

Harry couldn't think of anything, really, or at least not anything fair. Hermione nodded.

"Yes. Harry, why were you talking about Gargoyle dust?"

Draco's attention shot to him like tacks to a magnet. Harry crossed his arms over his chest. He hadn't realized that Hermione was still worried about that. "I can't tell you."

"Harry...."

"I can tell you that I have never used it, and never considered using it. It was just something I looked up."

"That doesn't make sense," she complained. He supposed he could see her point. He didn't tend to research potions components on a whim.

Draco, however, cocked his head to the side, rather in the way that Cheefi was doing. "It could," he offered.

"How?"

"If he knew someone who was already using it." Draco sneered slightly. "I might, perhaps, know who."

Harry shrugged, letting his arms loosen. "You might."

Hermione bit her lip. "If you know someone who's doing that, Draco, you need to tell their head of house."

"If it's a student," Harry argued. He was pleased to discover that he could be misleading about this, despite having a hand buried in Cheefi's long mane. Perhaps it was because he was confident that he was right to protect Blaise.

"Point," Ron contributed cheerfully. "It could be one of my brothers."

"Oh, don't make guesses!" Harry objected

"Or...." Ron's face lit up. "Snape! He'd be able to get that with no problem, I bet!"

"Especially not guesses that will have you strung up by your thumbs," Draco said dryly. He sighed. "Look at it this way, Hermione -- If you were taking an illegal potion--"

"I wouldn't!" Despite Cheefi in her lap, Hermione managed to sound anxious.

"As in Defense last year, let us postulate--"

"Turn it around," Harry interrupted. "Hermione. If I was taking an illegal potion, but I wasn't in substantial danger, and I wasn't hurting anyone, would you tell Professor McGonagall?"

She hesitated. "Yes," she said finally, the word coming out quick and uncertain.

"You didn't tell about the drinking."

She frowned. "I made you stop."

"No." He shook his head. "When you were around, you made me keep it reasonable. And you argued with me. But you didn't tell."

"But, Harry, you were in so much trouble--"

"I'm not saying I disagree. Quite the opposite actually." He reached out to touch Cheefi again, and she chirped at him. "Hermione. I looked it up because I was worried, okay? If it's getting dangerous, and I'm in a position to see that, I'll do something."

"There is, however, some harm," Draco pointed out, as if they were discussing some abstract issue in a lesson. "Gargoyles are rare, and if the dust was irresponsibly harvested, the user may be contributing to their decline."

Harry rolled his eyes. "And we should all be vegetarians, I suppose. I won't worry about that for other people."

"Not to mention that it's cheating!" Hermione objected. "If the person is a student, I mean."

Draco shrugged. "If they can 'cheat' as well outside of Hogwarts as in it -- that is, if the person can live up to the unreasonable expectations that they have created -- I don't see that it matters."

"That's because you're a Slytherin," Ron interjected.

"Yes. And what my house counts is results, not means."

"Anyway," Harry said, "I think we've talked that into the ground."

"Probably." Draco looked at Hermione. "Anything else?"

"Do you really like me?"

Draco's face softened with a smile. "Yes, Hermione. I really like you."

"I feel sort of excluded," she confessed.

Draco nodded. "You are the most likely to decide that you can't let us break rules, so we haven't wanted to let you see any place where we meet -- there are so few of them. Weasley was only invited the once. Perhaps you could join us for studying, some days? Now that there is a public space."

She sighed. "That won't be very useful, will it? With those hours."

Harry held back a grin. If she could already see that, they might be able to bring her in to the real Uncommon Room after not too long. "Better than nothing," he offered, with all the lightness of insincerity.

Harry was pleased, if not surprised, that Millicent caught him on the way out of lunch.

"Are you going upstairs?" she asked, keeping the question vague, although no one appeared to be in earshot.

"Yeah," Harry answered. "Meet me?"

"I'll be there in a few," she answered, and they parted as a group of students emerged from the Great Hall.

Harry made his way up to the library, and from there, around the castle the long way to the mirror. He was pleased, now that he thought about it, to realize that there were three different routes to the mirror from the library. It would be easy for people to avoid an obvious flow towards the room, even if they were coming from the official mixed-house space. When he reached his destination, Millicent was already there, frowning at the cushions.

"Using the place without me, Potter?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes. "I needed to get Ron and Draco together for a talk on short notice. Draco insisted on the cushions when I told him what state the place was in. It wasn't opening night for the Uncommon Room."

Relaxing, she nodded. "And when will that be?"

"I'm not sure. I think we should give the official mixed-house space a week first."

Millicent frowned around at the space. "So, a week from today?"

"Maybe not. We open the Quidditch season against Ravenclaw on Saturday, and the Patil twins have been major supporters of mixed house space and are people I'd like to bring in on the first round. That might make it awkward. The following Friday, perhaps? Feelings should have settled by then."

Millicent nodded. "That makes sense. So what's next?"

"Cleaning, I think, and then some charms to keep away the bugs and such, and then sometime during this week I should bring Draco here to do some stone-shaping and maybe look at the lights."

"Couldn't your Ravenclaw do it?"

Harry opened his mouth to say no, you couldn't invite someone somewhere and expect them to work on it, but then he looked at Millicent, and thought how she was talking about this room as theirs. "That's a wonderful idea," he said, just as he decided it was. "Actually, why don't we make it part of the opening? Everyone can talk about how to fix the light stripe."

"Won't that be sort of like a class?"

"It will give people something to do."

Slowly, Millicent's confused look brightened. She straightened. "Yeah. Good thought. It's bound to be awkward at first."

"Well, it was your thought," Harry said generously. "Don't forget that."

"Whatever you say, Potter," she answered, rolling her eyes.

"Potter?" he asked. "Why am I suddenly Potter?"

She grinned. "No big reason. Don't read too much into it, Harry." She paused in sweeping her wand up and down the wall. "It may be hearing it a lot; you were the talk of the table at breakfast."

"Oh, really?"

"Really. There are a half-dozen people who say they saw you leaving Slytherin this morning." Her small eyes glittered. "Is it true that you can nullify Portkeys?"

"Nulli-- Oh."

His confusion was enough of an answer. She snorted. "I gather Nott just messed it up, then? Forgot an activation?"

Harry shrugged. "Oh, it was an active Portkey, all right. But, really, I'm just protected against them." That little exaggeration, he thought, might give him an edge.

"Being believed to be able to disable them might serve you better," Millicent argued. "A number of people are saying we just need to tolerate you, for now."

"Oh?" Harry asked.

"Well, it wouldn't do to kill you in the school -- not that many people think they could, after Lestrange. Want me to hint that you've confirmed it to me?"

Harry had never thought of Millicent as the hinting type, but he supposed she was a Slytherin. "Okay," he said. "Thanks."

They cast dusting spells on every section of the entry and meeting space, and sent the dust deep into the piled rocks that filled the passageway beyond. Afterwards, Harry tried conjured water and a scrubbing spell on an area of the wall.

"Look!"

Millicent turned. "Oh!" she said. She stepped forward to touch the wall. "Shiny."

"Cut flint. And look at how it's set in lines. This was more than a secret passage."

Millicent laughed. "Yeah. People don't usually decorate those."

"I suppose it would reflect the light better."

She turned around. "A secret meeting chamber?"

"Maybe we'll find other clues."

They continued on, more eagerly than before, cleaning sections of wall until the floor was slick with water and they had to vanish it or get their socks wet.

"I'm bored," Millicent declared, when they were just about half-way done with the first wall. "Discover something else."

"I can't really turn it on and off like that," Harry replied, grinning at her. "How about some other entertainment?"

"Animal, Vegetable, or Mineral?"

"No. Tell me about Linnet's friend Gilbert."

For at least half a minute, they worked in silence. Then:

"What do you want to know?"

"Well, she seems to trust him, but Draco didn't want him along for yesterday's conference. I don't even know who he is, and I'm just taking Draco's word on her. I want details."

"Ah." Her mouth twisted in a wry grin as she glanced over at him. "You're interested in politics."

"What else?"

"Well, you may have thought he was cute." She laughed harshly. "And I wouldn't have touched that with a barge pole."

"Honestly, I have no idea what he looks like. Not to mention that I'm happy with -- no, completely thrilled by -- Draco."

"All right, then." She took a moment to compose her thoughts, sending off an aguamenti at a new stretch of wall. "His family is pureblood and well off -- at a level with Malfoy's, although they didn't know each other before school for some reason."

"Maybe his family are more, um ... open-minded?"

"No, though that is the usual reason for that sort of thing. That's why he didn't know Linnet, I take it. But as a first year, when kids were being petrified, Gilbert was all for something taking out the Mudbloods, so he had to have picked that up at home. It was just at the beginning of last year -- or, no, I guess after the Halloween massacre -- that he suddenly started indirect criticisms of the Dark Lord."

"Criticisms?"

"They're mostly kind of flippant, offhand comments, but there's feeling behind them. During the spring, he started spending time with Linnet. They're not involved; I think it was more that he was old enough to notice a girl as a person, and they really are the most compatible Slytherins of their year." She looked over at him. "Was that what you wanted to know?"

"Pretty much." Harry looked at the latest stretch of cleaned wall, with its darkly glittering lines above and below the unlit strip of white, and then past it, to the dirt-encrusted rock beyond. "I think that's enough for the day. About time for your glamour, isn't it?"

Millicent hesitated. "My timer hasn't gone off yet, so it's at least another half-hour."

"Okay. That should be enough time for a lesson."

"You want me to try it myself?"

"No, not that. Let's start with something simpler." Harry pointed at Millicent's feet. "How about your shoes?"

Millicent lifted the toe of one shoe and rocked it back and forth. "My shoes?"

"Yeah. Try changing the look of them."

"You mean -- make them shinier, or something?"

"Make them appear shinier," Harry corrected. "Remember, this isn't Transfiguration. You're just fooling people about how they look."

He was proud of that description. It had taken him several days of mulling over the matter to think of it. Surely the idea of deception would appeal to a Slytherin? Indeed, a sly smile was spreading slowly across Millicent's face.

"Hadn't thought of it that way," she muttered. With a decisive nod, she pointed her wand at her shoes, but then hesitated. "Maybe I should take them off first."

"It is not transfiguration. You cannot hurt yourself with a glamour."

"Yeah, but what if I cast the wrong thing?" Millicent sat down and untied one shoe, which she pulled off and set in front of her.

"If you like," Harry said, "this time."

By the time Millicent's alarm spell activated, she had managed to make her oversized woman's shoe look more a man's blunt-toed work shoe. The glamour wavered a little when she moved it, but that could wait a few lessons, Harry decided.

"You could just buy a pair of those, you know," Harry said, as she removed the glamour.

"Because my feet are big enough?"

"And they'd probably be more comfortable. And it would distract from other changes. And you might as well get used to them."

Millicent made a face. "But I'm in a room with Pansy and Daphne, and they notice everything."

"Let them notice that you're changing your style, then."

Afterwards, he walked her down to Slytherin. Draco insisted on spending Sunday afternoons available to his house, but that didn't mean they couldn't run into each other. Instead of Draco, however, they overtook the same two Slytherin first-years that Harry kept seeing.

"Hello, Gentian," he said, nodding a greeting.

Millicent snorted. "Making friends with the firsties, Harry?"

"I keep running into these two," Harry said, with a wink for Gentian. He held out his hand to the boy. "But I don't know your name, yet. I'm Harry."

The boy kept his arms folded over his chest. "I'm not supposed to associate with mixed-bloods."

Harry froze.

"Ogden!" Gentian exclaimed, shocked.

"Well, I'm not! And he's Harry Potter, too!"

"Oh, dear Merlin!" Millicent exclaimed. "Look, frogspawn, he's Harry Potter. You ought to be frigging honored."

"Oh, don't!" Harry exclaimed. "I hate that." Looking at Ogden's haughty sulk was giving him a strange feeling of being out of his own body. It took him a moment to turn the impression into a thought. The boy looked everything and nothing like first-year Draco Malfoy, making him seem too small and far down. The connection lent Harry some empathy. "Voldemort's a mixed-blood, you know."

"What?"

"He had a Muggle father. He told me about it, when I was bound to the man's gravestone -- how his Muggle father had abandoned his pregnant mother, but now his bones would serve him."

Millicent covered her surprise with a rough guffaw. "Issues, you think?" she choked out.

"Well, that was clear anyway, wasn't it?" Harry replied. Pushing away from the wall, he raised a hand in farewell. "Good to see you again, Gentian. Glad to have met you, Ogden. Catch you later, Mill."

Two voices chorused goodbyes as he walked away.

"Um, Harry?"

The speaker was Leslie Chase, a fifth-year Gryffindor boy. Harry didn't think the kid had spoken a dozen words to him since the end of the Tri-Wizard tournament. Pushing down his annoyance at being interrupted in a conversation with Cornelia about her new position, he mustered a smile. After all, wasn't this the sort of situation where Draco and Dumbledore both advised him to use charm? And really, it wasn't difficult to summon a smile after a 230-50 win in the first game of the season.

"Hi, Les," he said. "What's up?"

Leslie practically glowed at the (correct) use of his nickname. "I, um, just wanted to say what a spectacular catch that was."

"Thanks," Harry said. For once, he was confident that it had been spectacular. He'd used a technique described in Patrick's Pitch Pointers, a largely incoherent feature in Quidditch Review. There were people who claimed that Patrick's Pitch Pointers was an extended hoax meant to discover how long a respected Quidditch publication would pay for nonsensical gibberish written by a famous ex-pro Seeker. Harry was of the camp that that thought Patrick had taken a bludger too many to the head, but if you could manage to figure out what he was trying to describe, the advice was always good.

"It's great to go in with a leading score, too," he said generously. "Did you see that bit where Cornelia forced Cecilius off-course, and Ginny was able to intercept the Quaffle?

"Yes!" Leslie said enthusiastically, rocking up on his toes. "And she passed to Lindsey, who scored, and then Jason intercepted the throw from their Keeper, and Ginny guarded him, and we scored again? That was brilliant!"

"See, this is what I mean," Cornelia said earnestly, picking up her earlier argument. "I knew how Cecilius would react because of watching him last year. Keeper is a great position for learning about people."

"But if we rotate people into the Keeper's slot during practice," Ginny objected, "they'd just be learning about us."

"You can't do it during games!" Leslie exclaimed.

"No, of course not," Harry agreed, shooting him a smile. "We covered that earlier; you're joining an argument in progress. However," he said to his present team members, "Professor Dumbledore approved the idea of pickup Quidditch -- in theory -- last spring. If I can press him on it, and we can tempt some of the Slytherins into a friendly match, we could try it then."

"As if they would!" Cornelia scoffed.

Harry tilted back his head, but didn't quite laugh out loud. "Oh, you don't understand Slytherins, Cornelia. Most of them don't think we can hide anything. Draco knows I can, of course, but I still think he'd agree -- and that the rest of the team would pressure him to. They're incapable of believing that we might learn more than we give away."

"Hi, Les," said a new arrival, sixth-year Sajid. "What's going on here?"

"They're discussing Quidditch strategy."

By now, Harry would usually have turned to directly face Cornelia, ignoring the lower-years. Instead, he watched Sajid roll his eyes.

"Honestly! He's brilliant at it, and all, but what's wrong with football?"

"It's on the ground?" Les answered with practiced sarcasm, but Harry pounced.

"You like football?"

Sajid's eyes widened. "Yes. Do you?"

Harry grinned. "I'm surprisingly Muggle-incompetent actually, but do you know Dean is mad about that?"

"Thomas?" Sajid answered incredulously. "Your year?"

"Right," Harry replied, already looking away. "Dean!"

Dean wandered over, butterbeer in hand. "Harry."

Harry indicated Sajid with a jerk of his head. "Did you know you had a fellow football fan just a year back?"

"Football?" Dean asked incredulously, looking at Sajid. "Really?"

Sajid's eyebrows rose. "Yes," he said, "Really."

"You should organize some games," Harry encouraged, looking between them. "You could use the pitch -- we certainly don't care if the grass is kicked up."

"Some games of what?" asked Sammy, arriving with Barnaby, another sixth-year boy, right behind him. He stepped back right after the words came out, as if afraid to have spoken in front of all these older kids.

"Football," Harry said.

Sammy's eyes widened. "Wizards play football?" he asked, delighted.

Dean clapped him on the back. "Well, no," he said, "but we're discussing changing that."

Harry found himself in a growing group of his housemates -- mostly fifth and sixth years, but with all years represented -- and he found he wasn't as uncomfortable with that as usual. He had finessed it, after all, which made it feel somewhat under his control. By the end of the evening, he thought he had made progress in gaining the trust of the lower years. He also thought Hermione might have been watching a little too closely, but he wasn't sure. She had stayed over by the low fire, conversing with Neville for most of the evening, and with Ginny for a little while. He hoped she was just avoiding the Quidditch talk.