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Assistant: Title: Evitative
        Author: Vichan undefined 
        Chapter: 11/29 
        Summary: In the summer before his fifth year at Hogwarts, Harry is drawn to a room in Grimmauld Place. Like the Gryffindor he is, he enters the room without fear. The room is a library, and Harry is surprised to find that he’s eager to learn. Then he gets the bad news: he’s been accidentally expelled from Hogwarts, and he needs to be sorted again. Everyone is confident that he’ll go straight back to Gryffindor, but with what he's been learning, Harry’s not so sure.
        Contents: Chapter 11: The Word
    

    


      
        
          The Trevor Project and Trans Lifeline are two wonderful organizations that provide great services for trans people. Please consider giving them a visit to see how you can get involved!This chapter was beta-read by the lovely mishaleh. Thank you! <311/17/2019: 2nd beta pass by guestuser28653. Thank you!
            
            (See the end of the chapter for  more notes.)
            
      
  

  
  
    
    
The fifth year and the seventh year Slytherins ran into one another at the entrance to the common room as they returned from their respective Samhain celebrations.

“Potter,” Warrington greeted, his eyebrows shooting upwards when he spotted Harry. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Uh, hi,” Harry said as he stepped through the door.

“Did you go out for Samhain, then?” Yaxley asked as she came in behind him.

“Yeah,” Harry said hesitantly.

“Did you have fun?”

Harry wasn’t sure he wanted all of Slytherin to know that he had a dark affinity, but the memory of his affinity rite came back to him and he couldn’t help it - he grinned. “Definitely.”

Yaxley raised her eyebrows and a hint of a smile formed on her face. Pansy giggled.

“Congratulations, Pansy,” Warrington said. “I heard it was the night of your final declaration.”

“Thank you, Cass,” she said, smiling brilliantly.

“First Quidditch match of the year in two days, Potter,” Warrington said. “You ready to play your old team?”

Harry grinned. “Sure am.”

They slowly dispersed throughout the dungeons. Blaise, Draco, and Theo went up to the dorm, but Harry didn’t feel the least bit tired. Pansy also seemed amped and alert, and he and the rest of the girls settled onto the couches by the fire.

“Will you really be okay playing against Gryffindor, Harry?” Daphne asked. “After the way Weasley -”

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “Fred and George would be the ones to worry about, and I’m pretty sure they’re still okay with me.” He shrugged. “Even if they aren’t, they’ll be playing to win, not to come after me. They’re not going to try to knock me off my broom or anything.” He shook his head. “I’m honestly more worried about us playing fair. Having been on the other side of Slytherin-Gryffindor matches, they’ve been a little… rough.”

“It’s nothing you don’t see in pro matches, though,” Pansy said reasonably. “Those can get terribly violent.”

“We’re not pros, though, so -”

“Harry!” Theo came bounding back into the common room. “We need you up in our room immediately.” He had a somewhat uncharacteristic grin on his face.

“What?” Harry asked, confused. “Why?”

“Because,” Theo said, obviously holding back laughter, “Vince is stuck under your bed.”

“Why is he - oh!” Harry’s eyes widened in horrified realization. “Oh, no!”

Theo immediately started laughing his head off as Harry took off out of the common room and up to the dorm.

He entered the room to find Blaise face-down on the floor, howling with laughter. He pounded the floor with one hand and rested his head on his other arm, and his shoulders were shaking uncontrollably. “I can’t… I can’t…” he seemed to be saying, but Harry found it hard to understand what the words actually were. Draco was also doubled over, nearly roaring.

Vince's legs were sticking out uselessly from underneath Harry’s bed. One foot had lost its sock. Greg sat on the floor near him, also laughing uproariously.

“Sh@t!” Harry exclaimed. “I’m sorry, Vince! Hang on, I need to…” He threw open his trunk and started dumping its contents in every direction, desperately trying to find All The Wards You’ll Ever Need.

“Sure. No problem,” Vince said, and although his voice was muffled Harry could tell how unhappy he was. “I’m not going anywhere, after all.”

Harry found the book and flipped through the pages until he found the one he was looking for. He grabbed his knife and made a quick gash on his palm. “Conlidite!” He slammed his palm on the frame of the bed so hard that it hurt. The ward fell.

He and Greg each grabbed one of Vince’s legs and dragged him out from underneath the bed and helped him into a sitting position. “I’m so, so sorry, Vince,” Harry said pleadingly. “I didn’t… how long were you under there?”

“Just over half an hour,” Greg said, grinning.

Vince leaned against the wardrobe door and glared up at Harry.

Blaise rolled over onto his back and pressed his palms into his eyes. He was still howling.

“What… what were you doing under there, anyway?” Draco asked after he’d managed to calm down.

“I dropped my orange,” Vince said unhappily. “It rolled.”

“I’m really sorry,” Harry said again. He then realized that Vince didn’t have an orange in his hand, so Harry dropped to the floor and shimmied under the bed. He found the orange, pushed himself back out, and held the orange out to Vince. “Here. I’m sorry.”

Vince took it and glowered at Harry.

“Why did you have a blood ward on your bed, anyway?” Theo asked from behind him. “Draco said you’d mentioned it the other day-”

“But I thought you meant you’d removed it!” Draco said, laughing again.

“I…” Harry paused. He hadn’t exactly forgotten about it; he’d just grown so used to the magic of the ward pulsing through the bed each night that it had become somewhat soothing.

“I believe he put it up the first night he was here,” Draco said, still chortling. “Just in case one of us decided to carry out some secret orders from the Dark Lord and try to murder him while he slept.”

“You don’t still think that, do you, Harry?” Theo asked, concerned.

“No!” Harry said, shaking his head. “I just kinda… got used to it being there.” He sighed. “I really am sorry, Vince.”

Vince sighed and rolled his eyes. “I know. You can stop apologizing.” He pushed himself up from the floor and trudged over to his bed.

Blaise had finally deflated, but he was still snickering. He managed to sit up and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “You know we’re not going to hurt you, right?” he finally managed to say.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “I just didn’t know what to expect when I first got here, you know?”

Draco walked over to Harry and grabbed his hand, holding it up as if it to inspect it, and Harry realized it was still bleeding. He’d forgotten. “Episkey,” Draco said, pointing his wand at Harry’s hand. His hand felt warm and then cool, and the skin knitted up before his eyes.

Harry blinked, astounded. “Uh,” he said. “Thank you.”

“I was tired of waiting for you to do it,” Draco said, releasing Harry’s hand.

“I… don’t know that spell,” Harry said. He flexed his fingers up and down. His hand felt perfectly normal now.

“Merlin, Harry,” Blaise said, exasperated. “How do you get injured as often as you do and still not know any basic healing spells?”

***

Breakfast the next day was unusually cheerful; everyone in Slytherin seemed to be in high spirits. It was the day after Samhain, the last day of the school week, and the first Quidditch match of the season was to take place the following day. Even Theo managed to start forming complete sentences ten minutes earlier than he usually did.

“I have something special planned for the match tomorrow,” Pansy mentioned. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

“What is it?” Harry asked, curious.

“Not telling. It’s a surprise,” Pansy replied with a smirk.

Harry might have considered Pansy a friend now, but he was sure he wasn’t going to be a fan of whatever plot she’d come up with.

Blaise was trying to tell the girls what had happened the night before with Vince getting stuck under Harry’s bed, but he kept laughing and couldn’t get through the whole story. At one point he put his head down on the table and completely lost it again.

Daphne rolled her eyes. “Theo already told us last night,” she said.

“But… but…” Blaise said, nearly howling again.

“Blaise, quit it,” Tracey said, smacking him in the arm. “Snape’s coming over, probably to see why you’re losing your mind.”

Harry’s eyes widened and he glanced down the table, and sure enough - Snape was headed their way. “Say nothing about the ward,” he hissed at Blaise.

Blaise managed to get himself under control and he peered at Harry. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing!” Harry hissed again just before Snape reached the fifth years.

“Hello, Professor Snape,” Draco said. “Is that what I think it is?”

Harry turned in his seat to spy a small potion in Snape’s hands.

“It is what you think it is,” Snape said. “Here, Potter.” He held the bottle out towards Harry, who blinked.

“Uh… what is it?” Harry asked, tentatively taking the bottle from Snape’s hand. He held it up to inspect, observing that it was a gentle, milky orange color.

Snape sighed. “Did you not tell him, Mr. Malfoy?”

“Well, I wasn’t certain that it would be approved,” Draco said, and Harry thought he sounded slightly more posh than usual.

“It was. Madames Pomfrey and Hooch both just finished their inspection,” Snape said.

“Madame Hooch?” Harry asked curiously. “What is this, and what does it have to do with Quidditch?”

“That, Potter, is a basic vision potion,” Snape said. “It will improve your eyesight to 20/20 for approximately twelve hours.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “What? Really?” He looked back down at the bottle in amazement.

“It was suggested to me after you made the Quidditch team,” Snape said, his eyes flickering over to Draco.

Draco grinned. “Pansy’s the one who gave me the idea.”

“I brewed it last week,” Snape added. “Madame Pomfrey and Madame Hooch had to test it to make sure it was what I said it was, and they’ve cleared it for use in tomorrow’s match.”

Harry was completely unable to hide his shock. Snape had brewed a potion - a good potion - for him. Severus Snape, renowned hater of Harry Potter, had actually given him something incredibly beneficial, and it wasn’t a minor gift, either. From what he remembered Draco saying at the beginning of the year, fixing someone’s vision was incredibly expensive, and he was sure even a ‘basic’ vision potion couldn’t have been easy to concoct. “Uh… wow,” he said. “Thank you, Professor Snape.” He felt immensely strange saying the words.

Snape looked just as uncomfortable to be accepting a ‘thank you’ from Harry Potter as Harry was in saying it. “Indeed,” he said, sneering.

“Now you won’t have to worry about losing or breaking your glasses,” Draco said. “When you played for Gryffindor I’d always secretly hoped a Bludger would smash into your face.” He smirked. “When you started to play for Slytherin, I instead became extremely concerned for your well-being.”

Harry laughed. “Thank you, too.” He was still concerned about one thing, though. “I know Hooch approved it, but aren’t the Gryffindors still going to accuse me of… ” He frowned. Even Fred and George wouldn’t approve of him if they suspected he was using an illegal potion.

“Johnson has already been informed by Madame Hooch. She should pass on the news to the team,” Snape said. “I expect a victory for Slytherin tomorrow, Potter.” Then he turned back to the head table, robes billowing behind him. Harry was left feeling like he would get the sole blame from Snape if Slytherin wound up losing.

Harry immediately snuck a look over towards the Gryffindor table. Sure enough, Angelina did not look very happy at all. She glowered at Harry from across the room, having watched the exchange with Snape.

Harry sighed and tucked the bottle away in his bag.

“What was that about not talking to Snape about the ward?” Blaise whispered. “You know he’s a dark wizard, right?”

“No, but I suspected,” Harry whispered back. “Thanks for the confirmation.

“He’s not going to discipline you for doing dark magic, Harry,” Blaise said. “He’s a Slytherin, and -”

“I’m pretty sure that above all else, he still completely hates me and he loves getting me in trouble,” Harry hissed back. “If he has the opportunity to make me look bad to Dumbledore, he will.”

Blaise still looked doubtful, but he agreed not to say a word.

***

Transfiguration filled the last block of the day, and everyone was eager for the end of class and the start of the weekend.

“You assignment for next week is an essay on Switching Spells,” McGonagall said. “The essay must be no shorter than three feet and no longer than five feet. If you tend to write in letters that are unusually large, you will write ten feet.” She paused and gave Greg a pointed look before continuing. “Considering the variety of applications for Switching Spells, it should not be a problem to complete the essay within the required length.”

Harry saw Draco roll his eyes. “I bet you didn’t assign Gryffindor an essay on Quidditch weekend,” he muttered darkly.

“Five points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall said. “Gryffindor has the same assignment. Switching Spells will almost certainly be on your O.W.L. no matter what house you are from.” She peered around the classroom with her customary stern demeanor. “Any questions?”

“No, ma’am,” the class murmured.

“Very good. Dismissed.”

They were starting to gather up their things when McGonagall suddenly called out, “Oh, Mr. Zabini?”

Blaise paused in adjusting the strap on his bag and looked up. “Yes, Professor?”

“Ten points to Slytherin for showing up on time with both shoes tied.” Blaise gawked at McGonagall and Harry laughed.

“Hey, can you wait for me outside?” Harry quickly asked Blaise as they turned to leave. “I wanted to talk to McGonagall right quick.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “I’ll grab Theo. We’ll meet you in the hall.”

Harry waited for the rest of the classroom to completely empty out before approaching McGonagall’s desk. “Professor?”

McGonagall didn’t even look up from the stack of papers she’d been shuffling through. “Yes, Potter?”

“I wanted to ask you something,” Harry said. He took a breath. “About my father.”

McGonagall put the papers down and turned around, giving Harry her full attention. “What is it?”

“When he was a student here... “ Harry paused, then sighed. “Look, I’ll just… cut right to it. Slytherins tend to get attacked. We get cornered. We get hexed. It’s apparently been going on for years.”

McGonagall frowned. “I have heard of a few isolated incidents, but I hadn’t heard it was… widespread.”

“It is,” Harry said. “People hate us. I suppose I can even understand the reason for that hate, but…” He shook his head. “The younger kids, getting bullied and attacked by older students. Hexes and jinxes that never get solved. Someone cast a tripping jinx on me on my second day in Slytherin, and that’s not even the worst of it.”

McGonagall looked alarmed. “The tripping jinx was brought up in one of our staff meetings. I believe it is still under investigation. But Potter…” she said, full of concern, “are you saying that this is a regular pattern?”

“It is.”

McGonagall studied him for a moment. “Are you asking me about this as Deputy Headmistress or as someone who knew your father?”

“Someone who knew my father,” he said. “Although if we could somehow put a stop to the attacks…”

“I can assure you that I will be investigating these claims quite thoroughly, Potter,” she said. “Now, then - what does this have to do with your father?”

Harry sighed. If McGonagall wasn’t aware of the attacks on Slytherins, she likely wouldn’t have been aware if her father had been a perpetrator of those attacks.

“I’ve just… put together comments about my father. Some things that Snape said, and some that… friends of my father said.” Harry paused, swallowing. “I heard that he liked… using a curse on my father that flipped Snape up in the air and upside down. And then there was the ‘prank’ that Siri… Snuffles played on Snape involving Professor Lupin…”

McGonagall’s mouth was set in a grim line. “You’re wondering if your father may have been behind some of these attacks on Slytherins.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

McGonagall studied Harry for a moment, and then she walked over to one of the student desks and pulled out a chair, sitting down. “Have a seat, Potter.”

The invitation only served to give Harry a sinking feeling in his stomach, but he still took the seat across the aisle from her.

“Your father and Professor Snape never did see eye to eye. As I’m sure you are aware, the rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin is storied and rough, and those two took the rivalry to extreme measures. In fact, their relationship was not unlike you and Mr. Malfoy once were, at least up until this year,” she said. “Although I do suspect that in their case, it may have had something to do with your mother.”

“What?” Harry asked. A chill ran down his spine. He felt like he could deal with finding out one of his parents was a bully, but not both. “She wasn’t… involved, was she? In the attacks?”

McGonagall shook her head. “No. She was once friends with Professor Snape,” she said. “I would often see them talking or studying together in their younger years.”

“What?!” Harry was completely blindsided. His mother and Professor Snape had actually been friends? How had no one ever mentioned that to him?

“I believe that James may not have… well, to put it bluntly, I believe he was jealous,” McGonagall said.

Harry’s eyes widened. “My mom and Snape… they didn’t…” He didn’t even want to picture it, much less say it.

McGonagall let out a laugh. “I don’t believe Lily and Severus were ever… romantically involved,” she said. “And whatever friendship they had, it must have dissolved when they were around your age. I did not see them speaking for the last few years they were at school.

“Now, as for your father and Snape,” she continued, “they did indeed have an incredibly turbulent rivalry. They were quite often hexing or cursing one another.” She paused, and then sighed. “But I suspect that James may have taken it too far more than once.”

Harry swallowed hard. It wasn’t as clear of an answer as he wanted, but now that he had a partial answer, he was unsure if he actually wanted to know more. Even so, he looked down at his toes and asked quietly, “Was he… was he cruel?”

McGonagall didn’t answer for a moment, and Harry glanced up at her to see her looking at him with a somber expression. “Children are often cruel, Harry,” she said gently.

That was the only answer Harry needed. He nodded once and got to his feet, an icy cold winding its way through his heart.

“I’m not done, Potter,” McGonagall said. “Please stay.”

Harry stared at her for a moment. The more they spoke the worse he felt, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear anything else.

“Your father may have been a nitwitted child,” McGonagall said, “but he grew up into a decent man.” She smiled sadly. “Much more than decent, in fact. He was one of the kindest, bravest souls I have ever had the privilege of knowing. The man he grew up to be was your father, not the child he was in the past.”

That only made Harry feel marginally better, but he still appreciated McGonagall saying it. “Thank you.” He turned to leave, but McGonagall stopped him once more.

“If you have managed to find a way to forgive Mr. Malfoy for all of his cruelness and misdeeds towards you and your friends,” she said, “I am certain you will eventually find it within yourself to forgive your father for his own misdeeds.”

***

Harry found Blaise and Theo just outside the door.

“Ah, Harry!” Blaise said. “I was just telling Theo that it’s likely time I reassess my approach with Umbridge. The detentions aren’t getting me results. But it’s clear that she’s hiding something. I’m beginning to wonder if her obvious Slytherin bias is affecting how…”

Harry unintentionally started tuning Blaise out. After his rather depressing conversation with McGonagall, he was finding it difficult to switch tracks in his head. “Um… okay,” he mumbled.

“Are you all right, Harry?” Theo asked.

“Yeah.”

“No, you’re not,” Blaise said, studying Harry’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” Harry sighed. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Blaise studied Harry for a moment, then shrugged. “Okay. Let us know if we can do anything to help, though.”

Harry looked over at Blaise suddenly found himself overcome with gratitude. Blaise didn’t pressure him or try prying into Harry’s mood or even try to make him feel better; it was as if he had just accepted Harry’s melancholy and offered help for when Harry was ready.

Blaise was a good friend to have, Harry realized.

“Shall we drop our things off and go to dinner?” Theo asked after a moment.

Harry nodded, and they set off down the Transfiguration corridor.

“Umbridge was a Slytherin, too,” Blaise said, continuing his earlier train of thought. “Perhaps she knows that I’m looking for dirt, so she’s being extra cautious with me.”

“If she knew that you were looking for dirt, do you really think she would be so calm about it?” Theo asked.

“Yes, I do,” Blaise said. “Especially if she thinks it’s well-hidden. She also knows how we Slytherins think, and she knows not to underestimate us. I may not have Draco’s level of well-connectedness through his father, but she knows that I would not remain quiet about it if she did anything truly… untoward.”

“So what’s your next -” Theo cut himself off when they spied Ron, Dean, and Seamus ascending the stairs they were about to go down.

Harry knew that they were likely only headed for Gryffindor tower, but he instinctively tensed up.

“What are you doing up here?” Dean asked rather darkly when they spotted the Slytherins at the top of the stairs.

“Leaving class, obviously,” Blaise said dryly.

“Class has been over for a while,” Ron said.

“I had to talk to Professor McGonagall about something,” Harry said. He felt drained.

“Don’t worry, we’re leaving now,” Blaise said. “I’ll do anything to get away from the horrific stench of Gryffindors.”

Harry didn’t want to do this.

He didn’t want to take any part in the ancient Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry. He’d played at it for years, but now that he was on the Slytherin side of it, he just felt tired. More than anything, he just wanted to keep walking, and so he did. He took a few steps to the side and then forward, trying to avoid the Gryffindors in front of him.

Seamus stepped directly into his path, and Harry met Seamus’s hard gaze with a fatigued eye.

“Heard something interesting about you, Potter,” Seamus said nastily.

Harry sighed. “What did you hear, Seamus?” he asked.

“That you went out with a bunch of dark wizards for Samhain last night,” Seamus said, his eyes flicking over to Blaise and Theo and then back to Harry.

Harry, meanwhile, looked directly at Ron. Obviously, Ron had been talking about him in Gryffindor tower.

“You sacrifice anyone to Crom Cruoch?” Seamus demanded. “Or maybe the Fomorians?”

Harry’s face screwed up in confusion. “What?”

“Or maybe you just called up the dead,” Seamus spat. “Samhain is when the veil between the living and the dead is at its thinnest. Made any Inferi lately, Potter?”

“What are you even talking about?” Harry said.

Seamus’s nostrils flared, and he took another step towards Harry, invading his personal space. “Where I’m from, we don’t like dark wizards, Potter. They’ve done too many awful things o’er the years.” He’d known Seamus was already angry with him, but apparently hearing even a hint that Harry was involved in something dark had set off something that was rooted much deeper than the lies being printed in the Prophet. Seamus never used to get involved in the Gryffindor-Slytherin fights if he could help it before, but apparently something about Harry was making Seamus take it personally.

“I’m not a da-”

“You’re hangin’ out with them now, aren’t you?” Seamus shouted, nodding towards Blaise and Theo. As his voice got louder his accent became thicker. “You’re going with them to their… dark orgies or whatever?”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

“Oh, I wish,” Blaise commented loudly, and Seamus’s gaze instantly snapped towards him.

“So you admit that you’re dark?” Seamus spat. “You dark wizards have done so much damage -”

“I admitted nothing,” Blaise said, sounding bored. “It was a joke. You’ve heard of those, right?”

“Can’t help but notice that you’re not denying it, either,” Dean said, and Blaise’s disinterested expression immediately turned irritated as he moved his gaze from Seamus to Dean.

Harry sighed.

“Oh, yes,” Blaise said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “We’re so evil. We have wild, evil, dark orgies every night of the week.” He smirked. “Except Sundays. That’s the day of recovery.”

“You’re Zabini, aren’t you?” Seamus asked.

“At your service,” Blaise said, sneering.

“We heard about you, too,” Dean said. “Some of the upper years were talking about you.”

Blaise smiled sardonically, and Harry thought he looked a bit like a predator. “And what did they have to say about me, hmm?”

“What in the world is going on here?!” Hermione came marching up the stairs behind the other Gryffindors with a pinched, stern expression, and Harry was forcibly reminded of McGonagall. “I heard shouting. You’re not fighting, are you?”

“Just having a conversation, Granger,” Blaise said, never taking his eyes off Dean. “Thomas here was just about to inform me of a rumor he’d heard. So what did you hear?”

“That if anyone in Slytherin is a dark wizard, it’s definitely you,” Dean spat. “Your mum’s been married seven times, and every single one of her husbands mysteriously died. You’re apparently only rich because you’re living off all of her dead husbands’ fortunes. Not much of a 'mystery' when it comes to what's going on in your family."

Blaise’s expression immediately lit up with fury.

“This is outrageous!” Hermione snapped. “Stop this immediately! Dean, how dare you say such terrible things!” She rounded on Ron. “And you! You are a prefect! Why weren’t you putting a stop to all this?”

Neither boy said anything back to her, so Hermione turned back to Blaise with a sigh. “I’m quite sorry, Zabini. Rest assured it will be report-”

“Shut up,” Blaise snapped, and Harry’s eyes snapped back to his friend. Blaise looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him.

Hermione looked taken aback. “Well, I -”

“I said shut your filthy mouth,” Blaise spat. “I don’t need a Mudblood to protect me from a Mudblood!”

Harry’s breath caught in his throat and his entire body went cold.

Hermione drew back, gasping, and Dean’s face twisted up in rage. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Theo put his palm to his face and let out a sigh.

“You nasty little snake!” Ron shouted, and his wand was in his hand and pointed at Blaise in an instant.

Harry's scar blazed hot.

Harry reached out and grabbed Ron’s wand right out of his hand. He was not in the mood for curses. “What the f@ck, Blaise?” Harry hissed, tossing the wand up against the wall where it clattered to the ground.

Blaise’s gaze swiveled towards Harry, and his furious expression into morphed into something that resembled embarrassment. “Harry, I’m sorry -”

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to!” Harry shouted.

He’d begun to think of Blaise as a friend - a potentially great friend, in fact. He really had.

Blaise had never even mentioned his thoughts on blood purity to Harry, even though he and Draco had been openly discussing it just a few nights ago.

Hearing Blaise spit out such a hateful word without a second thought made Harry’s stomach do somersaults. He’d insulted not only a former friend, but also one of the only friends Harry had left in Gryffindor.

He’d honestly expected it from Draco, but Draco hadn’t even said anything to Hermione all year. He also had at least offered to engage in discourse about such a sticky topic. Blaise had made no such offer.

Not only that, but Harry knew to be on guard around Draco. Blaise, on the other hand, had almost started to feel safe.

Harry had obviously grossly misjudged who Blaise actually was, and Harry wasn’t sure if he could stomach the person Blaise turned out to be.

Harry didn’t want to be there anymore. He needed to get away.

A wave of anger rushing through him, he pushed past Seamus and started marching down the stairs.

“Harry, wait,” Blaise said, jogging down after him. He reached out and grabbed Harry by the arm.

“Don’t touch me, Zabini,” Harry spat viciously. He yanked his arm out of Blaise’s grasp and took off running across the castle.

  
  

    
      
        
        
          The very large elephant in the room just started stomping.'
User: Summarize the chapter based on the content provided, ensuring to follow the set format and emphasize key aspects within the specified length.
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