Unofficial Portkey Archive

He was somewhere deep below Hogwarts. It was dark, too dark to see even a few feet in front of him. Harry felt weak and unsure of his footing. Stumbling over a tangled vine, he fell. Mud and dirt soaked his clothing. He pushed onwards, trying to reach the end of the tunnel. A light, bright but ominous, shown before him. One foot moved in front of the other as he approached the bright light.

A hiss.

Harry reached for his wand but found nothing. He pushed his back against a wall. The atrium had more light than the dark tunnel, but still not enough. He could hear it. A gigantic snake slithered along the ground, its skin against the floor. Every scale pushed and pulled, propelling the behemoth creature. The snake approached him.

A scream.

"Not Harry, please no, take me, kill me instead!"

"Harry…"

"Harry…"

"Harry!"

Fists flew as Harry tried to fight his attacker. He flailed blindly. Unseen hands grabbed his shoulders and pushed him down. The struggle continued, hands and limbs tangled everywhere. He heard words, but he could not decipher them. Another pair of hands joined the fray and shoved him backwards, trapping his arms.

"Calm down, Potter," Goyle grumbled, his meaty hands locked tightly around Harry's wrists.

Harry finally settled, panting furiously. His eyes adjusted to the light. He looked up to see Draco and Goyle gazing down at him. Goyle wore a worried expression. Draco stared at him blankly with just a hint of surprise.

"Let me go," Harry ordered.

Goyle then removed his death grip from Harry's wrists. Draco lifted his hands off Harry's shoulders. Pushing against the bed, Harry rocked into a seating position. Draco continued staring until Harry snapped at him.

"What?"

"You might want to get that scar looked at." Draco pointed at his own forehead.

Reaching up, Harry felt something damp against his forehead. He traced the outline of his scar and pulled back his hand, finding blood on his fingers. With the corner of his sheet, he wiped away the rest of the blood. Sweat dripped down the back of his shirt. It would have been much more comfortable to sleep shirtless, but the additional scars on his back would undoubtedly raise unwanted questions.

"You feeling okay, Potter?" Draco asked, his eyes cold and glittering in the dark.

Harry's first reaction was to spit back a smarmy retort, but he bit his tongue. Draco was no longer one of his underlings. He was the Commander, and he deserved the respect that came with the title as long as he upheld the responsibilities of the position.

"Just one of those nights," Harry quietly responded. "I'm fine. You can all go back to bed."

They dispersed, slowly slinking off into the darkness. Blaise returned to bed last, his eyes never leaving Harry's. Harry did his best to feign disinterest. He had a long day ahead and needed full control of his faculties. Closing the curtains, he flopped back into bed. The dreams had been longer and more vivid as of late. He often wondered what they meant, but he was no expert dream interpreter.

Divination was not his strong suit.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The air tickled Blaise's nose, and he struggled not to sneeze. Every additional second was a second too long spent in this carriage. Pacing in front of the Slytherin was the inscrutable Karim Tireur. Karim's strides were long and purposeful, his legs twining together on every fourth step as he twirled around with perfect balance.

His egotistical smile had vanished, replaced by an annoyed frown that marred his angular face. The dim light floated around them and reflected oddly from Tireur's bald head. The reflections danced around the room, illuminating the dark corners and revealing the small size of Tireur's temporary home. Blaise waited for the Beauxbatons boy to speak first.

Karim could not help but oblige.

"Potter. Potter. Potter. It's always about Potter. Everything I hear in this school is about Potter. Still he doesn't strike me as overwhelmingly impressive. Talented? Yes. Brave? Surely. But…"

Karim trailed off, gesturing towards the invisible crowd.

Blaise remembered a dark night in a cave. He remembered murder in Harry's eyes. He remembered the flash of lights as Gryffindor dueled Slytherin. He remembered the gurgling cough of a Hufflepuff whose life slowly ebbed away. These horrid events were completely foreign to Tireur. It was no wonder he did not understand Harry. Tireur did not know the darkness within the Boy-Who-Lived.

"What do you want, Tireur? Loafing around isn't something I have time to do right now," Blaise pushed.

"So I've heard. Changes in the Slytherin leadership?"

Blaise arched an eyebrow. "You have an unusual interest in the day to day of Hogwarts."

"This is an unusual school," Tireur rebutted with an ineffectual shrug. "It is full of victors...losers...traitors…"

The Slytherin narrowed his eyes. An edge crept into the back of Blaise's mind. Tireur's inflection on his last word left no doubt as to what the Beauxbatons student was implying. To what end, Blaise did not yet know, but the Slytherin was now on guard. He chastised himself. It was foolish not to be on guard around Tireur. An unsettling glint was always in Tireur's eye, like he was privy to a joke no one else knew. This time, Blaise was afraid he was the butt of it.

"Your uncomfortable awareness of school politics continues. Don't think I don't know why you've asked me to come. You want something on Harry," Blaise deduced.

"Why else would I invite you back here?" Tireur innocently asked.

"Cut the shit." Blaise grew irritable. "Tell me what you want."

"You implied the Gryffindor Muggleborn would be a weakness. If anything, she spurned him into action. Anyone could see, if anyone were distracted by her pain, it was the Diggory boy. Potter did no more than was necessary to secure her safety and moved on. Why would you imply that harming her would distract Potter?"

Tireur's trenchant remarks letl of the fight out of Blaise. Truthfully, Blaise thought Granger would be a source of weakness for Harry. He had never known Harry to let anyone inside his fortress-like emotions, but Granger had somehow wormed her way in. His was simply a miscalculation of what she exactly meant to his housemate.

"For your incorrect tip, I think you owe me something substantially better this time," Tireur said.

"And what would that be?" Blaise sarcastically asked.

"Temper." Tireur clucked his tongue. "I don't need to remind you that you have far more to lose than I."

"And how's that?" Blaise asked, while knowing the answer himself.

"Unless I've misread the situation, betraying Potter to me would be your second treason. Or is it your third? It is hard to keep track with you, Zabini. From what I've heard, the rest of Slytherin would not take too kindly with multiple treasons."

"And I could go to the headmasters and say you were cheating," Blaise shot back.

"Everyone cheats." Tireur smiled with that same inside joke smirk. "Do you think Krum didn't know what we would be doing for the Second Task? Do you think he transfigured that entire suit of armor in a whim? Such a large scale transfiguration isn't something that you invent in the twenty minutes it took to row out to the ice island. It required practice. Dedication. Mastery."

Tireur smirked.

"Go ahead. Tell the headmasters I squeezed the information out of you. Guess who still loses?'

Me, Blaise thought.

Tireur continued to pace around the Slytherin, his strides long and purposeful.

"Unfortunately, the purpose of the third task continues to elude us. I believe Krum knows, but the bumbling buffoon trusts me less than I trust you," Tireur said.

Blaise shook his head. Krum was no buffoon. He was a mountain of a man and talented at transfiguration to boot. Why Tireur would ever refer to someone that could crush his head with one hand as a buffoon, Blaise would never know.

"Does Potter know what the third task is?" Tireur finally arrived to the point of their meeting.

Blaise had to laugh. Despite the Frenchman's unhealthy fascination with Hogwarts politics, he had not sensed the falling out between Harry and Blaise. Did Tireur really think that Blaise could just betray Harry without any reason? He was afraid he blew his cover, but Blaise recovered well.

"He doesn't know."

It was Tireur's turn to narrow his eyes. "Don't lie to me, Zabini."

Careful. Tow the line.

"I'm not lying," Blaise said honestly. "I don't know for sure if Harry knows, but I strongly doubt it. If that's what you came here for, then I might as well leave. I know nothing about the tasks. You should have tried blackmailing one of the champions instead."

"No," Tireur said. "They have too much to gain by counter-spying on me. You, on the other hand, have nothing to gain at all."

Blaise fought the urge to sigh. Tireur was right. Outside, the light dimmed as the sun set over the horizon. Night was falling, and Blaise would soon have to return to Hogwarts. It was for the best. Just stall for just a few more minutes, and Tireur would have no choice but to release him.

The Beauxbatons boy surprised him by ending his pacing and walking towards the door. As if on cue, the door knocker rattled three times. Tireur reacted so quickly that Blaise figured he must have had some sensory charm. The door opened and Blaise was surprised to find a beautiful quarter-Veela entering.

Evidently, no one in Beauxbatons was happy judging by the scowl on Fleur's face.

"He knows nothing," Tireur answered the potential question before Fleur could say anything.

"As I told you he would," Fleur muttered darkly.

Using his Battle class instincts, Blaise tried to assess the situation. Judging by the familiarity with which Fleur and Tireur addressed the situation, they obviously had been working together prior to this meeting. Fleur looked displeased even to be in the room, while Tireur had reclaimed that mocking grin that so often adorned his long face. She must be working with him reluctantly. That could be used to Blaise's advantage.

"What do we do now?" Fleur asked. Blaise was surprised at her deference Tireur. From what little he knew of her, she did not seem the type to accept a secondary role.

Tireur fixed his gaze on Blaise.

"We use the one asset we have."

Sweat broke out over Blaise's head despite the cool touch of spring air. He felt like a cow slowly being led to slaughter, after having been milked dry. It was a mistake to ever go to Tireur. Harry might have scared him, but at least he knew Harry's limits. Blaise had seen exactly how far Harry could be pushed. He could not say the same of Tireur.

But Fleur…

The ugly scowl disrupted her natural beauty, and Blaise concluded she was uncomfortable with the situation. Furthermore, why were Tireur and Fleur not bothering to conceal their partnership? From the first and second years he paid, they were public rivals. Why now? Why were they letting him hear their plots and plans?

So Blaise pressed the one advantage he had.

"He does have feelings for Fleur," Blaise whispered ever so slightly as if not to disturb the air around them.

Fleur immediately strode over to Blaise. She was taller than most women and towered above the seated Slytherin. The Veela leaned over him, her blonde tresses floating around her head in perfect harmony.

"I knew you were a despicable traitor, but this is low, even for you, Zabini," she whispered, her words freezing the air around them.

"He does have a point though," Tireur mused as he resumed his pacing.

"Sûrtout merde." Fleur continued maintaining eye contact with Blaise. The Slytherin gulped, trying to keep his Adam's apple from bobbing excessively. She said, "He is lying. I tried that. Potter rejected me."

That was news to Blaise, even as it exposed his lie. Instinctively, he sat a little straighter. That motion did not go unnoticed by the French girl. She narrowed her eyes even further so all Blaise could see were her blue irises. Hell hath no fury like a scorned Veela. She looked like she wanted to tear him, or Potter, apart.

"I still can't believe that," Tireur muttered. "Has his cock gone missing?"

"No," Fleur answered. "I don't want any more questions on this."

Tireur chuckled, but he did as she commanded and did not pursue the issue. Fleur cocked her head, still leaning over Blaise like he was some sort of prey. She pursed her lips and the lights grew dimmer around him. Blaise made a show of looking around, trying to avoid those icy blue eyes.

"Intéressant," Fleur murmured. "Very interesting."

"You know what I find interesting?" Blaise rhetorically asked, desperate to get Fleur away from him. "I still don't understand why you two are hell bent on beating Potter."

Tireur was surprisingly forward. "We have orders."

Fleur rounded on him. "Karim! Nous ne sommes pas censés parler du directeur!"

Blaise did not need to know French to know who the directeur was.

Tireur shrugged. "What does it matter? Everyone doubtlessly knows we're trying to defeat Potter. So the Slytherin knows. What of it? He knows plenty already. I do not care if he tells anyone."

"Karim," Fleur hissed loudly, her hand twitching for her wand.

Tireur did not look bothered as he resumed pacing around the room, his strides long and purposeful.

"Wait. You have orders?" The gears churned in Blaise's mind. He had heard those words before. It was an echo of a memory - something on the tip of his tongue.

"We were told to challenge Potter. What of it? I assumed it was because he was their most dangerous player, but that would be a testament of Hogwarts' weakness that a Fourth-Year runt is one of their best duelists," Karim continued to talk, seemingly unafraid of divulging this information.

Fleur looked defeated, but made no serious attempts to stop him. She settled herself onto the stretched chaise, her eyes still lingering over Blaise. The latter was too busy to notice her gaze. Could it be? Could all this be yet another test from Snape? Blaise would not put it beyond the headmaster, but surely they could not have received orders from him.

"These orders...who did they come from?" Blaise asked haltingly.

Tireur and Fleur exchanged a glance.

"Why are you interested?" Fleur asked.

Blaise hesitated, then dove in. "It wasn't Professor Snape, was it?"

Tireur scoffed loudly. "Why would his own headmaster want to give orders to challenge his prized pupil?"

Blaise was shocked. They did not know. Furthermore, Snape must have used Madame Maxime as a proxy to continue putting Harry against extreme odds. Could the headmaster really have that much influence? His mother had always told him that Snape had not been born of a proud Pureblood family, but perhaps her own prejudices were blinding her. If Snape could convince headmasters from other schools, like Madame Maxime, to challenge Harry, how much influence did the headmaster really have?

The lights were no longer dancing around them. Each light hovered over the trio in the carriage, illuminating their persons and keeping the rest of the room in the dark.

"They don't know," Blaise whispered to himself. He suddenly sat up, his back ramrod straight.

"I'll find out what the third task is for you," Blaise said.

Brown and blue eyes snapped towards him. Tireur wore a predatory grin while Fleur's eyes glimmered with suspicion. They were both naturally skeptical of his change in demeanor.

"And why is that?" Tireur had to ask.

This is a trap. Another elaborate trap laid out by Snape and they don't even know it.

Yet, he said nothing. Some people deserved to suffer for the roles they played, himself included. But today was not the day for Blaise Zabini. Today - others would be the tools for Snape's meddling.

Blaise finally answered.

"You can't let Harry win."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hermione closed her eyes, her deep breaths filling her lungs with air. She exhaled, the wet air brushing against her lips. She repeated the process thrice, feeling every drop of moisture collecting along her bottom teeth. Try as she might, Hermione could not expel the feeling of disgust.

"Hermione?" Luna chirped up, breaking Hermione's reverie. "I asked if you thought that was a good idea."

The nerve of this girl, the voice said.

"What was a good idea?" Hermione snapped back.

"What did you think of using a very thin piece of glass?"

The table stretched between them, containing a project that had made little progress. Neither Hermione nor Luna could devise anything to reflect the images onto the board. No matter what type of glass they used, the image always bent or refracted in an unusable manner. Their results had shimmered and shaken until the figures were no longer recognizable. At best they had replicated the initial process that captured the image.

"That would just degrade the quality," Hermione said. "I thought we already tested it out with fiberglass?"

"I brought a different type of glass this time."

Luna reached into her bag and gingerly extracted a nearly translucent shard of glass. It was razor thin, almost invisible to the human eye. Luna levitated the shard until it was positioned between the crystal and the board. The Ravenclaw girl nodded at Hermione.

Another crystal already hung from the cave's rough ceiling. The crystal was attached to a slim and circular piece of metal. Hermione tapped the metal and whispered, "Sonos."

Months ago, Luna had realized that two crystals could be linked with a Mirroring Charm. When applied correctly, the charm also displayed the image from the source crystal. The problem was that Mirroring Charms were obviously designed for mirrors. Hermione had to modify the charm to absorb all of the images obtained by the crystal. Thus, they had created the base disc. When Hermione applied the Reverberation Charm to the disc, the crystal acted as a flashpoint. It would take a snapshot of the current room and then send that image to the destination crystal.

Ordinarily, the destination crystal would spit the image out in a hundred different directions. Luna, showing more ingenuity, enclosed the destination crystal in a metal tube. Tapping her unexpected expertise in runes, Luna applied a simple Funneling Rune ordinarily used to direct water in drainage pipes. The result was a crystalline image displayed through the open end of the tube. Their previous problem was that the image could only be seen through a glass lens.

The source crystal hummed immediately, once Hermione tapped the metal. A bright flash surrounded the destination crystal and Hermione was suddenly looking at a near carbon replica of herself on the board. The image thrown through the destination crystal refracted through the near transparent shard of glass that Luna had brought, converting the previously scrambled display into a near perfect hologram.

"Wow."

The board captured every facet of the cave. The stalactite-strewn ceiling. The uneven floor. The shimmering water of the small pond. Hermione waved her arm through the air and watched her counterpart on the board mimic the motion. A smile broke over her face.

"What type of glass is that?" Hermione asked, leaning closer to inspect the razor thin reflector.

"It's called heavy metal fluoride glass. It's essentially the same concept as the fiberglass that we tried last month. It acts as more of a transmitter than a reflection. That's why the image is so clear. Once we master the Naming Charm, we can even have everyone's name listed with their image," Luna explained with a dreamy smile on her face.

"What are the drawbacks?"

The smile faltered on Luna's face. "It's expensive. I had to order it from an apothecary in Germany. It's also brittle and highly susceptible to acids."

"How much did it cost?" Hermione continued to interrogate her.

Luna took off her wide lens glasses and rubbed the bridge of her pointed nose. "A glass of that surface area cost two Galleons."

"Two?!" Hermione exclaimed, noting that the shard of fluoride glass couldn't have been any bigger than ten by ten centimeters. "We'll never afford enough to capture all of Hogwarts. The crystals were already three Sickles each. I don't think in the three more years I'm here we could afford all of that."

"You're right," Luna said. "We can't. We, as in you and I, can't. But we do have one other partner…"

Harry. Does that pompous jerk have to be the answer for everything? The voice growled.

Hermione had to laugh. Of course, they couldn't do it without Harry. No one could do anything in this school without Harry. She tried to swallow the bitterness, but that proved a difficult task. Try as they might, Harry's gravitational pull was inescapable.

"I can ask him," Hermione conceded as she walked around the board, admiring their work.

She paused and lingered on Luna's glasses. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione spotted a strange coloring surrounding the board. The Gryffindor picked up the Ravenclaw's glasses and donned the ocular lens.

"Hermione, wait!" Luna jumped up uncharacteristic urgency.

The world was different through another's eyes. More specifically, it was very different through Luna's glasses. A blue shimmer surrounded the board, a light refraction bending the navy tint into different color palettes. Hermione looked right at Luna and found a golden hue covering the Ravenclaw girl. Blue, gold, red, and white covered the cave. A different color highlighted any object with any sort of magical presence.

"An Identification Charm on your glasses," Hermione murmured. "Smart - but difficult to maintain."

Clever girl. She could be useful for us…

Hermione shook her head vigorously, trying to force the voice out of her head.

"It's not a Charm," Luna corrected her. "The lenses are enchanted to read magical signatures. The spell isn't perfect, but it's enough at least to detect them. I'm still working on identifying each color."

Hermione turned her gaze to Luna and found a red shimmer around the bottlecap necklaces the Ravenclaw girl often wore. Leaning closer, Hermione tapped one of the bottlecaps and asked, "And these?"

Luna gingerly removed one of the bottlecaps and threw it into the air, whispering a phrase as the metallic cap left her hand. It spun in the air, end over end, the silver bottom catching the light seeping through the lake above. It whistled through the air, an F sharp if Hermione was correct, and crashed against the ground. As soon as the bottlecap hit the cave floor, a bright flash blinded them.

The cap transfigured into a large, circular shield. A golden eagle was emblazoned in the center of the bronze circle. Hermione noted that the shield emitted a golden hue through Luna's glasses. Magic was far more beautiful through Luna's glasses.

"Stupefy!"

The blue bleam streaked through the air and collided against the shield. The eagle-adorned shield vanished in a wisp of smoke as soon as the Stunner struck the target.

"It only works for one spell, but I managed to create a ward that holds one instance of the Protego charm," Luna explained. "I'm working on creating a more permanent version of it."

Hermione was rarely impressed. Perhaps due to her own high intelligence. She always thought ahead, trying to master the permutations and possibilities of all scenarios. Hermione didn't always have an answer to every possible question, but had always thought she was difficult to deceive.

Luna had been hiding her talents in plain sight all along.

Behind her deceptive image of an absent-minded girl, Luna managed to fly under the radar of all the professors. In reality, the Ravenclaw had created several inventions that were highly original and useful battlefield weapons.

"Why don't you show this more, Luna? The professors would be impressed with what you created. Wards. Artefacts. Charms applied to objects. These aren't easy. Any one of us can cast a shield, but it requires some advanced craftsmanship for an object to hold a Protego."

Luna ineffectually shrugged. "Harry told me not to be afraid, but not all of us can be Harry. Some of us have to work on defending ourselves in different ways - ways that aren't so obvious."

"You could have still let the teachers know."

Luna looked up at Hermione with her big, blue eyes. "You know as well as I do that not all teachers can be trusted."

Hermione caught Luna with a searching look. Were the glasses and the bottlecaps only scraping the surface? What else might Luna know? The Ravenclaw had always been difficult to read. The Gryffindor removed Luna's enchanted glasses, the world returning to a much duller spectrum. Luna plucked the glasses off Hermione's hands and returned to them their rightful place on the bridge of her nose.

Luna began talking again in a halting manner. "I noticed...as well...a change in you recently."

Hermione froze, an icy trickle running down her spine. The air seemed colder, the frigid grasp of winter suddenly returning. Her hand gripped the vine wood of her wand tightly. Her heart thudded against her chest, roaring loudly in the suddenly quiet cave.

She's perceptive, this one. Definitely one to keep an eye on. She could be used in just the right way...

"Do you want to tell me what you've done?" Luna asked, her face quizzical yet non judgemental.

The glasses were still perched on her nose, and the eyes behind them were wide as saucers. Hermione felt as if Luna were looking straight through her. An uneasy fear gripped Hermione's spine, twisting and tormenting her body.

Hermione pondered Luna's question. She had told absolutely no one about the magic performed in the cave that night. Truthfully, she hadn't even known if the spell would work. She had spent so much time researching a spell to amplify her magic, yet not render her insane. Hermione had snuck into the Restricted section of the Library time and time again, identifying and disabling the wards that prevented access by non-authorized students.

It was all for naught.

The voice. The indeterminate voice who whispered suggestions and ideas. Ideas that should never be repeated. Hermione had to practice Occlumency actively to shut the voice out, but she could never hold it back for long. She should have known. She should have known better than to dabble. Harry spoke often of what it would take to win, but Hermione had never understood what he truly meant...until now.

"How can you tell the difference in me?" Hermione asked without meeting Luna's eyes.

Luna tapped her glasses with her wand. "Everyone gives off a color. I don't know what they mean. I've yet to find a discernible trait that associates with a color. Harry is bright red and black, but so is Draco Malfoy. Cedric Diggory is a dull green, yet Ron Weasley is also a dull green. You were always a dark blue until a few weeks ago. That's when I noticed the silver and black mixed in with your colors. I don't know what they mean, but I know something has changed."

Hermione closed her eyes. If Luna could see the change, who else could? Then again, who else would have thought of an Identification Charm crafted onto a pair of glasses? Did Snape know? Hermione felt foolish, but she had yet to find a counter-curse for the spell. It was supposed to be temporary, but the book had never defined the length of this temporary spell.

Say nothing.

"I can't tell you," Hermione said quietly.

Luna pursed her lips. "Is there anyone you can tell?"

Cedric, Hermione thought. I should tell Cedric.

But Hermione knew he was unlikely to understand. Part of what attracted Hermione to the Hufflepuff was his unwavering stance against immoral actions. That didn't mean Cedric was above finding advantages, but he had a strict moral compass. Hermione had no doubt that performing dark rituals would be something Cedric would condone.

Neville?

Truth be told, Hermione had been drifting away from Neville. His duel against Harry last year had brought into light his potential feelings for her, and she had deliberately distanced herself from the bumbling boy to avoid leading him on. Plus, her relationship with Cedric had seemingly cooled his feelings. Still, Neville was a genuine boy, and he would undoubtedly judge her actions.

Harry.

Harry would understand. Perhaps he would not condone her actions, but he would understand why she did what she did. Harry always understood Hermione's actions even if he did not agree with her. Her thoughts drifted to nearly a year ago in the same cave she stood now. She had convinced Harry to stay his execution of Justin, but would she be able to do the same now? Had her pursuit for greatness driven her to madness?

The whimsiness floated back into Luna's voice as she spoke. "Is this...change...reversible?"

Hermione replied, "It's supposed to fade over time."

"How much time?" Luna countered.

This time, the voice answered the question.

Time enough to accomplish our goals.

Hermione stilled, recreating her mental shields. Visualization was key to her competency in Occlumency, but it also required a calmness she currently did not possess. She had read of rituals and dark arts that bespoke of such voices, but Hermione knew the more common Muggle diagnosis of hearing voices.

Paranoia. Schizophrenia. Insanity.

"Hermione?" Luna tentatively asked, her voice a soft whisper.

Don't tell her, the voice urged.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione fought back.

"The spell is Tenebris Atro…"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Blaise trotted back to the Slytherin Common Room, his eyes sharp and attentive to any strangers lurking in the darkened corners. This attention to detail allowed him to spy a figure waiting in the cross section between the first floor and the staircase to the dungeons.

"Justin. How unpleasant to find you here," Blaise said, wanting nothing more than to sidestep the Hufflepuff and be on his merry way. Justin had other plans.

"We need to talk," Justin demanded.

For someone who was not viewed as one of the more skilled performers in Hogwarts Battle School, Blaise found himself oddly in demand.

"Not now, Justin." Blaise tried to push by him, but Justin's arm flew out and planted a hand against the wall, barring any future progress. Blaise looked down his nose at the Hufflepuff, trying to gather the most Malfoy-like sneer on his face. He must have failed miserably at that. Justin might have been shorter, but he was far more muscled, even at fourteen.

"It's about Potter."

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, Blaise thought - remembering a quote his mother would often repeat.

"What about him?"

Justin took a step back, implicitly dragging Blaise further away from the lights and into the shadow. Blaise tentatively stepped forward, one more step away from the Common Room. He felt for his wand in his robes and cursed his lack of a wand holster. Most students were issued one, but Blaise had never enjoyed the leather stuck against his skin.

"He came to me the other night asking for my help," Justin started. "He wanted to bring you down."

"That's not news to me," Blaise said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "If that's the case, what are you doing talking to me?"

Justin's eyes glittered in the dark. The Hufflepuff snorted and said, "Potter is a lot of things, but he is not as clever as he thinks he is. Some of it has gone to his head."

Blaise listened but only passively. His eyes tracked Justin's every movement, watching for any surprises. Despite the situation, Justin appeared relaxed and non-confrontational. His posture was slightly slumped and his movements were minimal - not the jittery ticks of a nervous would-be attacker.

It did not take long for Blaise to understand what Justin was trying to say. "So you're here because you think I can protect you?"

"Protect me?" Justin scoffed. "No, I don't need your protection. I want to bring down Potter, too."

"You tried that once. Would you like a repeat of how that ended?" Blaise arched an eyebrow at the Hufflepuff's boldness.

"I'm not afraid to try again." Justin raised his chin in defiance.

The timing was suspicious. First, Tireur and Fleur admitted to conspiring against Harry on orders and now Justin was offering to strike against Harry once more. A puzzle formed in Blaise's mind, but key pieces were missing. A corner piece. An edge piece. Most of all, a connecting piece right in the middle. What did it all form?

"And what is your marvelous plan this time?"

"Potter actually told me to give you false instruction so he would look favored upon your mistakes. I was supposed to pass misinformation to you on a change in the Hufflepuff command structure that would have dictated different responses in Battle class."

"Clever of him," Blaise said.

"Yes, but he put too much faith in me. I'll tell him that I fed you bad information. In exchange, you get to watch him crash and burn in Battle again. Maybe I'll even get the final hit on him since he won't expect it from me."

Justin was satisfied with his plan, though Blaise had his doubts. For instance, he doubted Harry trusted Justin at all. The last interaction he remembered between the two was that dreaded night in the cave. He could understand Justin still being upset over that night. He could definitely understand Harry using what happened as blackmail so Justin would do his bidding. Still, Blaise knew something was amiss. He just couldn't place his finger on it.

"What's it going to be?" Justin asked.

Blaise doubted many people would understand why he was involved in these traitorous plots. Harry would shrug it off as petty jealousy. Tireur would assume it was competition. Justin must have thought it was their rivalry.

In truth, it was none of that.

Blaise feared Harry Potter, the Bringer of Lightning and Dragonkiller. He had heard stories from his mother of the rise of one Dark Lord. Perhaps the rest of Slytherin was blind to what they were creating. Perhaps Snape had grown too fond of his experiments on Harry to see the big picture. Harry Potter, unchecked, was not a box Blaise was willing to open. If Harry could somehow lose a few more battles, maybe he would settle for above average instead of hyperactively chasing perfection. Perfection was a troublesome path, ultimately destroying those who chose pursuit of it. Perfection was an unrealistic goal, a height that could never be reached despite all attempts to do so. Perfection was torture, a fleeting reprieve against the agony of mistakes.

They wanted Harry to be perfect.

Did they not realize it was impossible?

"I'll do it. Let's win."

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Projected update time: 30 days

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