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Other People's Choices	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 24374 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 5
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story

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Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Four—Ambush in the Library
“Are they being awful to you, Harry?”
“Do you want Fred and George to give you some things to sneak into Slytherin?” Ron asks eagerly. He pauses for a second. “What does it look like, anyway? Do they all carve ‘blood traitor’ into their headboards and ritually spit on them every night?”
Hermione gives Ron an annoyed glance and refocuses on Harry again. “I just want to know if they’re being awful to you,” she says earnestly. “If I can do anything to change that.”
“No, thank you.” Harry smiles at her and flips open the book he brought, which is one Hermione says he ought to read. Honestly, while it’s about the Animagus transformation, it looks a little boring. Harry’s bored a lot now, unless he’s actually talking with his friends. “Mostly, I just ignore them, you know? They don’t talk to me at meals now, and they all stop talking when I walk through the room.”
It’s sometimes lonely. Harry can admit that to himself. But he wouldn’t want to do what he knows he needs to do to fit in: act like he admires Malfoy and he’s so important, and snicker at people putting Muggleborns down, and brag about things that don’t matter to him.
Besides. None of the Slytherins live in the Muggle world. Harry’s absolutely certain of that. None of them could understand the things Hermione gets without even thinking about it, and none of them would try to understand like Ron does.
“Is this seat taken?”
Harry finds himself staring. Zabini is standing at the corner of the table nearest Harry, but still just across from Ron and Hermione, his smile bright and helpful. He holds a book that looks like History of Magic, although Harry’s not sure. He doesn’t spend enough time with his own History book to know for sure what the cover is.
Ron recovers first. “Yes, it is,” he says, and slides some books down the table so that they’re sitting in front of the chair. “Sorry, Zabini. Off you go.”
“It doesn’t look taken to me,” Zabini says. He’s still looking at Harry, and his face is open and friendly as Harry has seen any Slytherin’s be. “Can I sit here, Potter?”
Hermione is looking back and forth as if she doesn’t know what to do. Ron is scowling. Harry realizes, with a weird feeling in his stomach, that this is actually his decision to make.
“If you just want to sit and read, sure,” he says.
“That’s a shame,” Zabini murmurs, even as he pulls out the chair and sits down in it. “I was hoping to talk, too.”
Harry just shakes his head a little. He feels like Ron. He doesn’t hate Zabini the way he does Malfoy, but seriously? Ignore him for a week and then try this? Harry doesn’t understand.
“I suppose you can talk to yourself,” Harry says, and turns back to Hermione. “You didn’t explain why you want me to read about the Animagus transformation.”
“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Hermione makes her hair bounce as she nods. “Professor McGonagall is going to start teaching us about this next year! And you can—you can get some work done on it now.” She drops her voice, which Harry is grateful for. It’s not like Zabini needs to know about some of the consequences, for him, of living in the Muggle world.
“She’s not going to start teaching us to be Animagi in our third year, Hermione. Or Fred and George would be ones by now.”
“I didn’t mean she would start teaching us the transformation! I just meant she would start teaching us about it.”
“Fred and George never mentioned that—Percy wouldn’t, anyway, because he thinks he should never talk about anything fun—but Fred and George would—”
Harry gratefully soaks up the familiar bickering, resolving to hold onto this now. He hopes Dobby won’t stop his post this summer. He has a few days more, and then—back to a house where everyone hates his existence.
Kind of like the one where you live now.
Harry grimaces. It does make being at Hogwarts a lot less pleasant than it used to be. He supposes the only good thing he can say about the difference is that Hogwarts is a lot bigger than Number Four Privet Drive.
And of course, there are his friends. Nothing can compare to them.
*
Blaise reads the parts of the History of Magic book that Binns will never teach them, keeping an eye on Potter. Oddly enough, he’s not part of the conversation either. He sits there looking almost nostalgic, the way Blaise’s mum does when she remembers some of her husbands.
Why would he look like that? He’s not old enough.
But it’s clear his plan to talk to Potter in the presence of his friends is a failure. Potter doesn’t want to talk, Weasley is too suspicious to start any conversation, and Granger seems to fear insults around every corner, if the way she keeps looking at Blaise after the others have forgotten him is any indication.
Blaise keeps the scowl off his face, and transfers it into the way his fingers grip his book’s pages. Trust Draco to have poisoned that well for them, too. He used the word “Mudblood,” and now Granger thinks every Slytherin will.
I have to get out from under Draco’s shadow. And I might not be able to wait another year, the way I planned on.
At last, the intense Gryffindor conversation breaks up. Granger and Weasley head for the door, still bickering. Potter gets up, and heads for the shelves to put away the book on the Animagus transformation.
He doesn’t intend to read it, then. Hmm. “Are you not interested in that branch of Transfiguration?” Blaise asks, deciding he can drop the pretense of Potter not existing.
Potter starts and turns around. “I’m not like you,” he says plainly. “I don’t read textbooks for fun.”
“So you would have talked to me if I’d brought a different book?” Blaise asks. He doubts that, actually.
From the way Potter flushes, so does he. But he only shakes his head and starts towards the door of the library. “I’m not allowed to take any library books home anyway, Zabini. So it doesn’t matter if I’m interested in it.”
Blaise blinks and stands to follow. It’s lucky there are no other Slytherins in the library, so they can’t see him scrambling after Potter like a puppy. “But you could buy a book on it if you were really interested in it. Then you wouldn’t have to rely on the library.”
Potter’s back has stiffened, but he says, “You caught me. I’m not really interested in that branch of Transfiguration. Hermione just thinks I am, and she gave it to me.”
There’s something more to this. Blaise is as sure of that as he is that Draco needs to be taken down a peg. “Why can’t you have books at home?” he asks quietly, and knows he’s right when Potter whirls around.
“Leave it alone, Zabini.”
This close, Potter looks the way he probably did when he killed the basilisk. Blaise swallows, but says, “It’s just a question.”
“Not your business.” Potter promptly starts walking again.
Blaise trots beside him, watching him out of the corner of one eye. “I knew you grew up in the Muggle world,” he finally ventures. “Where? With relatives on your mother’s side?” It’s the only thing that makes sense, because Blaise knows a bit of Potter family history and they never produced any Squibs or married Muggleborns before Lily Potter that he knows of. Still, he never really thought about it before, either.
The Boy-Who-Lived not growing up in the wizarding world seems so strange.
“Not your business.”
Blaise narrows his eyes. He knows this tactic of Potter’s by now. He’s trying to freeze Blaise out, the way he freezes out the other Slytherins who sometimes try to talk to him. Well, Blaise isn’t Draco, and Draco isn’t around to muck things up.
Subtly, Blaise flicks his wand at the corridor ahead of them. A shimmering barrier springs up, reaching from side to side. It’s soft right now, but it will turn harder than marble the instant someone pushes against it.
Potter whirls around with a curse. His eyes are so bright and burning that Blaise nearly dissipates the barrier. But he no longer thinks that Potter is going to kill him. If he’s right about him, Potter really only hurts people in self-defense.
“Easy, Potter. It’s just a question.”
“Why do you want to know?”
Maybe that’s the root of the problem. Potter’s face is stripped bare with exhaustion and old anger, and he can’t see any reason for Blaise to care about this. Or anything else about him. Blaise will just have to be
(shudder)
honest.
“I’m curious about you because you’ve changed the balance of power in Slytherin already,” Blaise says, and continues hastily when he sees the way Potter’s mouth is opening. “No, you have. The House was kind of settled, you know, as much as it can be at the end of the year. We know we’ll get new first-years in September, but they aren’t here yet. And our year was settled. Then you came in and changed the patterns.”
“How can I, when I’m not a Slytherin?”
They’re alone, and Blaise can’t stop himself from letting out a tired sigh. “You are. This pretense that you’re not is just silly, Potter. I think you know that as well as I do.”
“Just because the Hat said—”
“That’s the only way anyone knows what they are, because of what the Hat said.” Blaise leans forwards and tries to make a point that he doesn’t think Potter has considered. “You were only a Gryffindor because of what the Hat said, too. So why is this different?”
Potter freezes. He folds his arms and glares back at Blaise, but Blaise saw that moment. The first one, the one when the curse went home.
Blaise says softly, “What’s the harm in admitting it? I don’t think your friends are going to abandon you no matter what. And I’d like to be your friend, too, if you let me.”
“They’re my friends because I’m still acting like a Gryffindor. If I start acting like a Slytherin, then they won’t be.”
Blaise doubts that very much, but he isn’t being paid to dig into all Potter’s various insecurities, so he doesn’t. “What would acting like a Slytherin mean? Just talking to me instead of ignoring me when I sit at the same table?”
“No!” Potter makes a sharp gesture with his hand. “Being sneaky. And—and political. And insulting people like my friends, and all the rest of it.”
“Not all of us are Draco.”
Blaise thinks that sounds really good, but Potter surprises him by shaking his head sharply and laughing. “But don’t tell me that you go to bed each night thinking of Muggleborns and pure-bloods like Ron as your equals. I know you don’t.”
“Draco is a prick,” Blaise says calmly. “He doesn’t know how to act, and then he blames people for having natural reactions.”
“But you think the same way he does. What does it matter if you don’t say the word? You think it.”
Blaise blinks and finds he can’t respond. That’s only partially because of the words. Potter’s face is drawn up in this tight, skeptical knot that he never wears when he’s confronting Draco.
Blaise thought it was Draco who caused all the problems, who was the main reason Potter didn’t want to be a Slytherin. Clearly, he’s not.
“What can we do to make you welcome in the House and included in the changes?” Blaise finally asks. It’s not a question he planned on, but honesty works with Potter and maybe with this strange…reason that Blaise didn’t know about.
Potter just shrugs and says, “Nothing,” and turns his back. “Are you going to let the barrier down or not?”
Blaise thinks some more, but he can use honesty with himself, too, and he doesn’t think there’s anything to be gained by keeping Potter here against his will. He waves his wand, and the barrier turns into drifting swirls of smoke that blend into the walls.
“Thanks.” Potter keeps walking towards the Great Hall without looking at him.
Blaise lets himself drop behind. Of course that didn’t go the way he wanted, but he thinks he’s gained valuable information anyway. Potter doesn’t just hate Draco. He has some grudge against the whole of Slytherin, even the people like Blaise and Theo who kept out of Draco’s taunting. And he thinks that Slytherin is…what? Going to encourage the evil in people?
He thinks that there’s some bone-deep reason to be a Slytherin. More than just the Hat going on your head and saying that’s where you belong.
Well, Blaise knows lots of people think that. But he doesn’t know a lot of them who are convinced they’ll start being evil if they behave more like their current House.
It’s something to think about. And he does have a few days before the summer holidays come around.
*
Severus doesn’t slam any doors on his way down from the Headmaster’s office, but he does want to. When he arrives back in his quarters, he at least satisfies himself by conjuring a glass vial and hurling it across the room, breaking it open against the wall. It’s nice to hear the glass shatter and see the sparkling pieces leap about when he knows there’s absolutely no chance that fumes will turn his lungs to gargling froth.
Then he sits down on his chair and forces himself to cast his mind back to memories he hasn’t looked at in more than ten years.
Yes, Albus took the boy to Petunia’s house. And Hagrid was the one who brought the baby to him—but Severus knows better than to try talking to Hagrid. The man’s a sieve for secrets, but in this case, he doesn’t know anything, Severus is sure. He’ll repeat what Albus said not just out of loyalty but because he hasn’t exactly been in the Muggle world on a regular basis.
He does remember someone else being with Albus then, going into the Muggle world to scout the relatives’ home out…
Minerva.
So Severus turns to the Floo and casts in the powder, ignoring the fact that he normally Floos Minerva a total of two times a year, at the beginning and the end, to predict the number of children who will be in each of their Houses and to gloat about the Gryffindors he has in detention until the very last day. She’ll think it’s just the latter call, anyway.
Sure enough, Minerva shakes her head as the vision of the Floo embraces her, leaning back in a chair with her legs crossed and a glass of brandy in her hand. “Severus, Severus. Didn’t you know that Potter was still a Gryffindor when he earned those points, and therefore the House Cup belongs to us by rights?”
Of course she would think it was about that. Albus made the same determination Minerva did, and decided that meant the Gryffindors had won the House Cup. Severus husbands the resentment in his heart where he keeps all the others.
But he’s not interested in that particular one right now. “You went with Albus when he delivered Potter to the Muggles that raised him,” he says.
Minerva promptly scowls and uncrosses her legs. “Yes, and they are the worst sort of Muggles.”
“Why?”
“They distrust magic. They want everything to be normal. The woman spent two hours looking into a mirror and three hours gossiping with a neighbor, and looked perfectly pleased with herself. The husband walked around looking proud of himself for managing to get dressed. It was one of the worst places to leave a wizarding child. And I would have said that even if it wasn’t Harry I was talking about.”
But most other children would have had someone else to take them. Severus sees no profit in pursuing that line of argument, however. “Ah,” he says dryly instead, “I see that Petunia hasn’t changed.”
Minerva’s eyes widen. “I didn’t know you knew her.”
“I grew up in the same town as Lily. Of course I did.”
After a moment, Minerva nods, paying more tribute to his grief than most people would. “Of course,” she says quietly. “Well, Severus. That’s the way it is. I think that Harry has enjoyed himself at Hogwarts, but now he’s in the worst House for him, and he’ll go back to the worst one for him to grow up in. I feel sorry for him, I really do.”
“I notice you haven’t tried to do anything about it.”
“What can I say against the Sorting Hat’s decision? Not that I agree—”
Severus raises a hand, and Minerva falls silent, staring at him. “I meant about the house he’s growing up in.”
“Albus says there are blood magic protections on the house stronger than anything we could raise elsewhere.”
Severus looks straight into her eyes. “Do you believe that it matters if they don’t love the boy? Do you want to deal with another Dark Lord who wasn’t loved enough?”
It works because she is one of the few people who knows about Tom Riddle’s true past, and because of the stereotypes she has of Slytherins. But as long as it works, Severus doesn’t care about the source of her compliance. Her eyes ignite, and she surges up out of her chair. “Then we need to speak with Harry tomorrow. To learn if he has any real complaints, or if this is all an old woman’s mistaken impressions.”
She is cautious enough to retain that much qualification. “I think you’ll find,” Severus says sweetly, “that I can provide the proof. But let us speak to Potter, by all means.”
The Heads of both his Houses. He may keep secrets from me, but I don’t think he’ll manage it very well with both of us there.
*
Kain: Severus has already tried, but Albus wasn't helpful. So now it's approaching Harry directlyk,something he wouldn't have tried without Minerva's help because Harry has already ignored him.
Glad you liked the sass!
Harry doesn't technically know what the Death Eaters are yet at this point in canon. But it would definitely come out when they get to talking about politics.
Blaise is trying to figure out how to endear himself to Harry's friends, but it's hard when they simply don't care about him and won't talk to him.
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