Blake decided to be patient in his approach to this new possibility. Immediately after the duelling club ended, he and his friends had gone up into his room to discuss what had just happened.
"That was Parseltongue, wasn't it?" Tracey asked, astonished.
"Yeah," Zabini nodded grimly. "I'm surprised. Wouldn't have expected Potter of all people to be a Parselmouth."
"What's Parseltongue and Parselmouth?" Blake asked, hating the feeling of stupidity that came from not knowing what seemed like a simple fact.
"Parseltongue is the magical language where you can talk to snakes or serpentine creatures," Tracey rushed. "Normally, it's associated with Dark magic, or at least Slytherin - they say Salazar Slytherin was a Parselmouth too. But for Potter to be one too … d'you you think he could actually be the Heir?"
"No," Zabini and Blake said simultaneously.
"Potter's far too honourable - remember last year when he literally attacked Quirrell? And his best friend's a muggleborn. Why would he be the Heir?"
"Yeah," Blake agreed. "Harry's a good guy."
"Anyone that believes Potter is the Heir is a fool," Greengrass said dismissively. "It was obvious that he was trying to help that Hufflepuff."
But unfortunately for Harry, the opinion of 4 Slytherin students wasn't worth much, as the rest of the school's apprehension seemed to be growing by the day - especially after the next victim, Justin from Huffepuff, had been petrified. That works for me though, Blake thought. His sibling, however, had other ideas.
"Really, Connor? Fighting, when the first term's not even finished yet?" Blake scolded him.
"He was being an idiot!" Connor retorted stubbornly. "Harry was literally the one that killed Voldemort, and one of his best friends is a muggleborn - why would he be the Heir?"
"So what? You could've been civil about it, had a conversation instead! No one told you to hex him!"
"He was being rude, and he got his wand out first! You're the one that told me to defend myself!"
"Don't act like an idiot, Connor!" Blake warned him. "I know perfectly well you could've just disarmed him or protected yourself. Now you've gotten yourself a reputation for fighting, and it's not even Christmas! What would Mum think?"
"What would Mum think if she knew you were illegally doing essays and profiting from that?"
"Connor…"
"Fine, fine! I won't defend my friends anymore, happy?" The little brother turned around to leave, but Blake stopped him.
"Defending your friends isn't stupid or a bad thing, Connor - but being stupid about it is. You could've logically argued your case, or used your words, or made that Ravenclaw kid look like an idiot and taken the piss - you wouldn't have gotten in nearly as much trouble for that, and it probably would've had a better effect too. Do you see what I'm trying to say? You don't need to respond with violence - it needs to be a last resort, or when there's no other option. That kid was scared, Connor. What would you have done if someone was defending you thought was the person that was going around petrifying people?"
Connor sighed. "Okay, I'll think about it."
With that, he walked off, but Blake smirked. In their 11 shared years of life, Connor had never once admitted he was wrong, but always said "Maybe", "We'll see," or the most common and perhaps his favourite: "I'll think about it."
/
"Could I ask a question?" Blake asked Harry. The next day was one of their essay exchange days, as Blake liked to put it. Yet another Potions essay, this time on the essence of wild blueshrooms, and Blake had prepared two of them like always.
"Go for it," Harry said cautiously, handing Blake the money. Ron watched on apprehensively, waiting for the question.
"I know that you're a Parselmouth or whatever, and don't worry, I know you're not the Heir - but I was just wondering Harry - have you heard anyone else here speak Parseltongue?"
The caution in Harry and Ron's eyes were immediately replaced by surprise.
"Yes! Yes, I have! Have you?" Harry asked.
"How'd you know?" Ron demanded.
"Woah, woah! I don't know anything - Greengrass just told me it was insanely rare, and I wanted to know if anyone else could be a Parselmouth. Especially, y'know," Blake lowered his tone, "with the Chamber."
Harry and Ron both visibly deflated.
"Oh, I see," Harry responded.
"Wait - you have?" Blake said eagerly. "Who is it? What did they say?"
Harry looked surprised again at his sudden interest.
"Well, I don't actually know you see. I, uh-" He looked nervously at Ron, before continuing.
"I kind of hear it in the walls." Seeing the look on Blake's face, Harry rushed to explain.
"I know it sounds stupid, but-"
"No, no, Harry I believe you, but what does this voice say?"
"Oh! Well, it's not…" Harry trailed off, as if unsure of what to say.
"Harry, we killed Voldemort together, didn't we? I think you can trust me on this."
"I know I can trust you, Blake," Harry said quickly. "It's just… okay, fine. I just heard it say things like… 'Kill', and 'I smell blood' and 'rip' and 'tear' and 'hungry' and-"
He paused quickly, seeing the expression on Blake's face.
"It's fine, Harry. I was just curious," Blake assured his friend, before turning to leave.
"Wait!" Harry called. "D'you - d'you really think this voice could have something to do with the Chamber and the Heir?" the Boy-Who-Lived asked him expectantly.
If I tell him, I'd be putting him in harm's way directly, and probably Hermione and Ron too. Harry and Hermione are my friends. I can't do that.
But Blake wasn't illogical, either. Last time, Voldemort burned at Harry's touch. And he's a Parselmouth too - it'll be useful to hear the enemy. And he's a half decent duellist too. And Hermione's a genius witch, and Ron's got a knack for quick thinking.
But I refuse to let something bad happen to any of them.
Blake sighed, and made a decision.
"Actually, Harry - yes - I do."
If I'm involving them, then that means I'm responsible for them. I can't - no, I won't let any of them die.
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