Chapter Twenty-Six of 'Feather and Glass'- Loyalties

[lomonaaeren]

Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Twenty-Six—Loyalties

“Have I not earned your loyalty?”

Harry turns around with a sigh. He and Blaise and—Theo, it’s still strange to call him that—are searching the dungeons again for the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Another Gryffindor was Petrified this morning, Eloise Midgen, or probably last night, but no one found her until this morning. Harry is more determined than ever to find the entrance and stop the Heir.

“You know about Artemis. You know I’m a Parselmouth. What more do you want, exactly?” Harry leans forwards and taps on a stone that looks slightly discolored, then sighs when nothing happens.

“I earned your loyalty by telling you about the Gryffindors investigating our common room.”

“No, you told Blaise, and he told me.”

“It is the same thing.”

“No, it’s not.”

Blaise interrupts an argument that Harry has to admit he and Theo could probably carry one for an hour. “What’s your point, N—Theo? We don’t know anything more about the location at the Chamber of Secrets than you do. That’s why we have you here, to help us look.”

“You’re planning something.”

Blaise and Harry’s eyes connect, and Harry has to work to keep from laughing out loud. There’s so much exasperation in the corners of Blaise’s eyes and mouth if you know how to look for it. “We are. But it has nothing to do with the Chamber of Secrets.”

“It could have to do with me.”

“Your loyalties are still suspect,” Harry says, and turns to face Theo. Artemis crawls out from beneath his sleeve and inches up to his shoulder. Theo’s eyes follow her with an odd longing. Does he just want a pet snake? He should buy one. “We have the vow, but you have a family that opposes Neville, and—”

“You and Blaise aren’t the same as the Boy-Who-Lived, so drop the act.”

“You presume to tell us what to do?”

Harry approves when Blaise goes all scary like this. Very intimidating, and his voice promises shadowy pain that you would never see coming. Harry wants to learn to talk like that someday.

“Pet me.”

Harry conceals a sigh as he strokes gently down Artemis’s back. It’s going to be hard to be as intimidating as Blaise when he has to pause and pet a demanding snake. Maybe he should use his magic to create a white cat to stroke instead, like the villains in Muggle films?

“I presume to ask for direction in my choice of loyalties.” Theo’s voice is steady, and his eyes are locked on Blaise for only a moment before skipping to Harry, which doesn’t impress Harry as much as he probably thinks it does. Blaise is the greater threat. “I have told you about my magic, I reported people who distrust Slytherins, and I’ve kept your secrets. Haven’t I earned being told about your broader plans?”

Harry and Blaise exchange another look. A second later, Blaise shrugs.

Harry nods, too. It’s not as though it’s the same as telling Theo about his ability to create animals. Aradia would probably be angry with him for exposing that secret, even though Harry doesn’t always understand why she thinks it’s his biggest one.

“All right,” Harry says, and leans back a little against the wall. “We’re going to keep ourselves safe, take down the Heir, detach people’s loyalty from Dumbledore, and make sure no one can ever hurt us again.” He won’t mention the Suns. That’s not his secret to tell.

The light fades a little in Theo’s eyes. “What? But those are simple.”

Blaise laughs in the way that makes his voice sound like claws ripping down a wall. “You think manipulating people away from Dumbledore in a way that he can’t notice or stop is simple?”

“I—thought you had a political plan. A plan to rival the Dark Lord’s.”

“Just because I’m a Parselmouth doesn’t mean I’m evil or mental.”

“The Dark Lord wasn’t, either.”

“Because attacking a baby was smart?”

Again, Blaise intervenes in the argument. Harry is glad he’s there. He has the feeling he and Theo might always spiral into this kind of endless argument if they don’t watch themselves. “I don’t think it’s productive to debate good or evil. Those words mean too many different things to too many different kinds of people. But if you think he was sane, Theo, you’re much stupider than I thought.”

Predictably, Theo bristles. “I’m intelligent enough.” His voice is low and angry and intimidating to Harry for the first time. Harry cocks his head. Interesting that insults to Theo’s intelligence do this to him.

“Then demonstrate it,” Blaise says coolly. “Of course we don’t have a plan to take over the magical world. We’re twelve. And also, there’s no indication that taking it over would keep us safe. People would probably just try to come after us to remove us from power the way they did the Dark Lord. Safety isn’t a large part of it.”

Theo’s face has a complex expression on it. Harry doesn’t know what it means, and he hisses to Artemis to keep ready, just in case she has to bite Theo.

“I don’t want to bite him. I like him.”

“He could still hurt me.”

“Then I will bite him until he stops, and then I will apologize.”

“What about power?”

“What about it?”

“Power could keep you safe.”

“Not forever, not with the way that people try to take it away from the ones who have it, or hate them, or resist them.”

Theo tilts his head, slowly, as though he assumes either Blaise or Harry will try to stop him. At least he’s stepping back from the argument with Blaise that Harry thought he might have to interrupt. “So what you want is a way to create lasting safety. Lasting power. Lasting—ways to get what you want.” His voice is as slow as steps through a swamp to the other side.

“Yes. You understand us now.”

Harry does sort of hope that Theo doesn’t think he understands everything, but he just nods. “And you want to find the Heir of Slytherin because he or she is making you unsafe at the moment.”

Harry nods back. It’s more complex than that, but also not something that Theo needs to hear about right now. There are lots of ways that he can wait and prove himself, and Harry and Blaise can learn to trust him.

“I can help you with that. Didn’t I already keep you safe in Potions, Blaise?”

“From a minor threat that you wished to prove you could beat. What happens you face a major one?”

“I’ll—”

Harry turns around and starts tapping on the stones again. Artemis hisses, “I want to listen to them,” but he shushes her and casts a detection spell. At the moment, he’s more interested in finding the Heir than listening to the “negotiation” that Blaise and Theo seem to be going through.

It would be nice to have another friend. Especially since Harry doesn’t know if Neville will ever warm up to Blaise or if they’ll stay friends.

They just need to be sure of Theo.

*

“You haven’t found anything?”

“No. Nothing.”

Neville reaches out and puts a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. She sounds so upset. “It’s okay. This is only our first day of watching Nott, and if he is the Heir, then he’s used to sneaking around. We’ll find something if we keep watching, I’m sure of it.”

And if he’s the Heir.

Neville has his doubts. It’s true that Nott is a Slytherin, and sneaky, and the son of a Death Eater, and maybe powerful enough to cast the Obliviate that Neville can feel sometimes grasping his mind in steel claws. But he also hasn’t gone around talking about Mudbloods and hating them the way Malfoy does.

And—

It’s stupid, but Harry has been spending time with Nott, and Neville just can’t bring himself to believe that Harry would be friends with the Heir. Of course, how would he know? Harry’s smart, he’s a Ravenclaw, but he’s not all-wise.

Neville would just be surprised if Nott could fool Harry, that was all. Or Zabini, who would probably stick a fork into Nott’s intestines and twirl them around like spaghetti if Nott turned out to be the Heir.

“Should I do it today?”

Ron is bright-eyed, and Neville nods. “Remember to use that variation of the Notice-Me-Not we found? And don’t follow him into the dungeons.”

“But that’s probably where the Chamber is. We need to see him going into it!”

“We could find other evidence that he’s the Heir,” Neville says firmly. “If we saw him with the monster, that would be enough. Or if we find him painting one of those messages on the wall.” There haven’t been that many messages, only the one about the opening of the Chamber and one warning the Heir’s enemies away, but they’re pretty distinctive, and if they saw Nott painting one, that would be all they’d need.

“I just want to do more. We’re Gryffindors, aren’t we?”

Neville wavers. Ron’s eyes are wide and shining, and Gran is always saying that he should be a leader…

“Okay, but if you want to go into the dungeons, then we’ll have to learn the Disillusionment Charm first.”

“Isn’t that a fifth-year spell?”

“Sixth,” Hermione interjects.

Ron slumps.

“We can do it,” Neville says. One thing he’s learned from Harry and even Zabini is that magic is easier if you don’t start thinking about how hard it is. He straightens his spine. “We’ll start practicing it all together, and you can go keep an eye on Nott outside the dungeons, Ron. Then come back and report to us.”

Ron rips off a salute like a Muggle, laughing. Hermione shoves his shoulder.

Neville leads them off to find a place to practice that’s more secure than the middle of a corridor where a lot of people might pass by. His heart is light.

He’s finally doing something that might find the Heir, and if they can’t, or Nott isn’t the Heir, they can still practice strong magic. He can help Ron and Hermione learn a spell that might mean they can survive dangerous situations. He can be a leader and a teacher.

He can finally start being worthy of the title of the Boy-Who-Lived.

*

“Why did you not come to me to brew the potion?”

“Professor McGonagall thought you wouldn’t want to.”

Severus stares in silence at Harry’s head, which is bowed above a bubbling cauldron. Normally Severus would tell a student that close to back off and probably make some acid comment about fumes going up their nose and rotting out their brain, but in his own brain, there is only silence.

Harry didn’t tell Minerva all the nuances of his teaching Harry, that he wouldn’t mind brewing the potion. He preserved Severus’s privacy.

“Why did you not tell her about this?” Severus asks at last, in a voice softer than he wants to be, gesturing around his office.

Harry looks up and blinks at him. His eyes are bright and so much like Lily’s that Severus’s chest seizes up. He wants to take a Pain-killing Potion, but he knows it would have no effect.

“Because I knew that you must have a reason for not telling her about it. I mean, she knows you’re teaching me and that we get along a bit better. She doesn’t need to know how far it goes.”

“It was not—her in particular. It was—most people.”

“I know. And I know you didn’t want everything you know about me to get back to Dumbledore, so I just kept quiet and didn’t tell. It wasn’t hard to do.”

Severus stares some more as Harry steps back from the bubbling cauldron and compares the silvery-green potion in it to Severus’s perfect silver Snoring Cure in the cauldron next to his. Harry frowns a little petulantly when he looks at Severus’s. “Why can’t I get it that perfect yet?” he complains.

“You see some sort of rift between me and the Headmaster?”

“Of course I do.”

“I have not spoken to you about this.”

“You mentioned it sometimes.”

Severus has to concede that that is probably true. As he has grown more relaxed around Harry, he has guarded his tongue less. And there was the fact that Mrs. Zabini made him swear an oath, and Severus concealed his suspicions about Quirrell’s disappearance. “Very well. There is a rift.”

“But you won’t abandon him.”

The child’s eyes are too clever by half. More influence from his mother than his father, Severus thinks, spitefully. “No. There are reasons I cannot.”

“What are they?”

“I cannot tell you.”

Harry watches him with a calm expression that Severus otherwise cannot read. The sight makes him feel a sharp pinch in his belly. He has survived for decades by reading faces and knowing what others think before they decide on their actions. He has no idea how to read Harry right now.

He has no idea what might happen if he has to guess wrong.

“Did you swear an oath?”

“Yes, I did.” That much is true. Severus swore an oath to atone for his mistakes and to spy on the Dark Lord when he returns, and that he did not technically swear not to reveal these secrets to Harry Potter makes no difference. The oath will still kill him if he makes a move that violates it.

Never mind that Harry does know about the Unbreakable Vow to protect Longbottom and also about the one that Mrs. Zabini made Severus swear to hold his tongue. He does not know everything. Severus will not make a move to reveal those other secrets when he does not want—

He swallows.

“Are you okay, Professor?”

Harry has stopped being a frightening opponent and become a concerned child who is frowning at him. Severus nods. “I am. Why do you ask?”

“You looked like you were trying to swallow knives.”

Severus half-smiles. “Two points to Ravenclaw.”

“Will you tell me why?”

“No.”

“But what if I could help you?”

Severus smiles more widely, despite himself. “I will tell you in that case, Mr. Potter. But for now, I do not think you can.”

Harry looks at him, blinks, and then turns back to his half-spoiled potion. “Why doesn’t it look like your Snoring Cure?”

Severus takes over the explanation, glad that at least he has the ability to still teach Potions, and that James Potter’s son is looking up at him with shining eyes and no thought of hating the man whom his father hated.

Who hated his father.

Who loved his mother.

Who has learned to mentor the son.

*

“So you didn’t get any sense that Snape would turn his back on Dumbledore any time soon?”

“No. He seems to distrust him, but he also seems—would you think it was strange if I said that I think Professor Snape has distrusted Dumbledore for a long time, but also that he won’t abandon him because of that?”

“No. I had the same impression.”

“Then I suppose we’ll need to continue working to detach him from Dumbledore. But we can’t be sure we succeeded yet.”

“It’s all right. We’ll do it.”

*

“Neville, Neville!”

Neville starts. He didn’t expect Ron to come running up to him in a corridor that branches off from the library. Neville went to the library to research his Charms essay, and now he’s dragging his way back to Gryffindor Tower, yawning. The effort of learning the Disillusionment Charm and keeping up with his classes is making his bones feel like melted cactus spines half the time.

And Ron is under the Disillusionment Charm Neville cast for him that morning, so he’s doubly hard to see. But Neville doesn’t try to resist as Ron grabs his arm and drags him into a side corridor. He’s curious, too.

“What is it? Did you find something out about Nott?”

“Did I!” Ron waves his wand and makes the charm turn into little floating shreds of silver and disappear. He still has a problem casting it, but he can end it with an easy Finite. “He’s been wandering around the dungeons with Zabini and Potter.”

“Oh. But I told you that, remember? They said they were friends now.”

If anyone can be friends with someone as creepy and cold as Nott.

“Right, but did Potter or Zabini tell you that they were tapping on the walls in the dungeon with Nott along? Or—” Ron pauses, and Neville wishes for a second that his best friend wasn’t so dramatic all the time. “That Potter has a snake?”

All of Neville’s worries and doubts about things other than this conversation go washing out of his mind. “Harry has a what?”

“Yeah. A little blue-and-white snake that crawled up his arm. And you know what else?”

“What?” Neville can hardly imagine what else Ron might have seen. His mind is occupied with thoughts of how Harry had a snake and didn’t tell him.

“He was speaking to it!”

“So it’s a pet?”

“No, I mean, he was hissing at it! In Parseltongue!”

Something Neville believes about the world crumbles around him right then. He was sure Harry was his friend, and he would tell Neville secrets if not as many secrets as he told Zabini, and he was basically a good person despite being scary sometimes. But now it’s all falling apart.

A Parselmouth. Harry is a Parselmouth.

What other things has he hidden? Could he be the Heir, even though he isn’t in Slytherin and he isn’t descended from Slytherin as far as Neville knows? What else is he doing, what else is he laughing about with Zabini—

“Nev?”

Neville swallows and snaps back to himself. Ron is hovering in front of him and looks distinctly frightened. “Sorry,” he whispers. “I just thought I knew Harry, but I didn’t know anything about this.”

“The ones who are friends with Slytherins can’t be trusted,” Ron says wisely. “Both Zabini and Nott? And a Parselmouth? You can’t trust Potter.”

“Yes,” Neville whispers. “Maybe I can’t.”

*

“You could just spit it out, Neville.”

The strained, guilty glances Neville’s been giving Harry for the last hour as they worked on their Charms essays are getting on his nerves. And it’s always best to be direct with people you trust, Harry has found. That’s the way his arguments with Artemis and his discussions with Blaise and Aradia always are.

Neville turns so red that Harry is a little afraid he might faint or something. He’s stammering as he turns to face Harry. “N-nothing’s wrong.”

“Right.”

“It’s not!”

Harry squints at him. “Then why are you avoiding my eyes and stammering? I thought I was done making you that nervous.”

Neville is actually sweating. Artemis stirs in Harry’s sleeve and hisses as lightly as she ever has, “He is lying.”

Harry doesn’t need the confirmation, not the way Neville has been acting, but it’s nice to have. He leans back in his chair with a deep sigh. “I don’t hate you, Neville. I don’t want to punish you for anything. What is it?”

Neville spends a few seconds twisting his hands back and forth. Then he blurts out, “Hermione thinks Nott is the Heir of Slytherin, and you’ve been spending all this time with him. Why?”

“He’s helping me and Blaise try to find and punish the Heir of Slytherin,” Harry says. He doesn’t see any reason to hide that. But his instincts are pushing at him, prickling up and down his spine, and… “But that can’t be all that’s bothering you.”

“W-why not?”

“Because Hermione and Ron broke into the common room more than a month ago now, and you already knew I was spending time with Theo.” Neville turns his stricken face away. Harry leans closer. “What is it? Why won’t you tell me?”

“The w-way you told me you’re a Parselmouth?”

Harry feels as though someone’s yanked the chair out from under him. “What?”

“I know you’re a Parselmouth. S-someone heard you talking to your pet snake, and told me.” Neville squares his shoulders and turns around, and at the moment, Harry can see how he’s trying to live up to the heroic title that other people have imposed on him. “So I know. But you didn’t tell me. You kept secrets from me. Why?”

Harry stares at him, and all he can think is, I was right. Artemis was wrong. Of course people are going to turn on me the minute they find out.

He lifts his chin and says as calmly and smoothly as he can, “I was afraid of bad reactions. After Hagrid told me Voldemort was a Parselmouth and what people said about him, I was afraid.”

“But I th-thought I was your friend!”

“Would you ever have been my friend if I told you?”

“I mean—give me time to get used to it, and yeah.”

Looking into Neville’s eyes, Harry believes him. Neville might have taken some time to get used to it, but he’s more upset by Harry keeping the secret from him than he is by the notion that Harry is one in the first place.

“Who heard me? Who told you?”

“Th-that’s not important.”

But it’s not hard to guess, what with the mention of Ron and Hermione earlier, and that Neville knows Harry’s been spending more time with Theo. “Did you learn the Notice-Me-Not Charm, then?” he asks, staring hard at Neville. “I’m impressed. I’m pretty alert, and my snake is pretty alert, and neither of us noticed anything.”

“It’s not important.”

“Yes, it is. Because what if someone else knows I’m a Parselmouth and decides that means I deserve to be hexed for being a Dark wizard? Because of something I don’t even know how to help?”

(In truth, Harry is probably the only Parselmouth in history who can help what he is and could change it if he wanted to. But he doesn’t owe Neville the story of that at the moment. Maybe not ever).

“That’s not going to happen!”

“Then what is?”

“We just need to find out who the Heir of Slytherin is—”

“And you think it’s me.”

Harry is sure of that, and from the way that Neville tries to smile reassuringly and push his chair back at the same time, he knows it. Harry closes his eyes and sits there and lets the pain pulse through his body. He’s been hit by Dudley lots of times. He’s good at this.

“Why?” he finally whispers.

“I don’t want to think it!” Neville bursts out, so suddenly that Harry’s eyes fly open. “But you’ve been hanging around with Nott, and you can speak Parseltongue, and you keep all these secrets, and you say you want to punish the Heir of Slytherin, but you aren’t coming to me or to the professors to handle it—what am I supposed to think?”

Harry’s mouth is dry. His hands are trembling on the table. He pulls them back and tucks them under the tabletop. At least he can prevent Neville from seeing how weak he feels, if nothing else. “I thought you would think I was your friend.”

“Why are you spending time with Nott?”

“He’s my friend, too.”

“Hermione thinks he could be the Heir.”

“She’s just embarrassed that he stopped her in the common room.”

“Why did you keep your Parseltongue secret?”

“I already told you!”

Neville and Harry stare at each other, and it feels like the top of Harry’s head is going to fly off. Neville licks his lips. Then he says, “Would you be willing to stop spending time with Nott for a while? Just until we can find out he’s the Heir?”

It would be simple to say yes. It would reassure Neville, and Theo is probably the kind of person who would see the value of a strategic decision like this. Harry could still spend time with him in private, once Harry figures out how Neville spied on him.

But.

Harry being the kind of person he is makes it not simple.

“No.”

Neville closes his eyes. “Then we can’t be sure.”

We is Ron and Hermione and Neville. We is someone Harry isn’t, because he isn’t a Gryffindor and is friends with Slytherins.

Harry pushes his chair back from the table. Neville opens his mouth to say something, but Harry doesn’t want to hear his excuses. He grabs his books and stuffs them into his bag. “I’m leaving,” he says, and hates the way his voice shakes.

“Harry—”

“No.”

Harry turns and runs out of the library. Madam Pince shrieks something after him, but at the moment, Harry really doesn’t care. He runs and runs, and finally flings himself into an alcove near the top of a staircase on the fourth floor, his hands over his eyes.

Artemis is on his shoulder a timeless time later, hissing softly into his ear. “You are not wrong. You are not strange. You are not terrible.”

Harry curls up around her and hisses out nonsense. There’s a trembling and a burning and a stinging all through him, like part of his soul is being held to a flame, and—

He doesn’t want to, but he cries.