Blake sighed as he watched Henry, Connor's Owl, fly away.
That was probably a sh*tty thing to do, he thought, looking at the Quill in his hand. He had used it to write letters posing as Connor, to their mother. It had been good enough for her, clearly, if her responses were any indication, but it only served to make Blake feel even guiltier.
What would she do if she knew what happened? What would she think?
Blake already knew the answer to that, though. She would pull them both out of Hogwarts - hell, if she knew what happened last year, she'd have never allowed Connor to come in the first place.
Maybe that's what's best, a small voice at the back of Blake's mind said quietly, before being pushed away.
No, he thought. Magic's opened so many doors - so many opportunities - for us. I'm already making decent money this way - by 7th year, I could bring us out of poverty once and for all. More than that, we could even be rich! In the Muggle world, there would be no opportunities like that for us.
But it's not just that.
I love magic. I don't want to give it up. I don't want Connor to have to give it up. And I like the people here. I've made friends, for the first time, maybe ever.
I don't want to let go of all of that.
I don't want to let go of all of them.
/
"Renshaw!" Snape called sharply. What does he want now?
"Yes, sir?"
"Come with me."
People in the classroom gave him dubious looks as they walked out of the Potions class.
Silently, they headed out of the classroom, and Blake soon realised where they were headed.
The infirmary?
"I should let you know that this time, there is no bad news," Snape said grudgingly. "While I'm not your brother's biggest fan, to say the least-"
"He's awake?" Blake almost shouted, ecstatic as they closed in on the infirmary doors. "That's got to be it, right?"
Snape turned back to him, but before he could say anything, the doors burst open.
"Blake!" a boy's voice bellowed loudly, before said boy ran at Blake.
"Connor!"
The two brothers embraced tightly, surrounded by the likes of Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape and Madam Pomfrey.
"I knew I'd be okay!" the younger brother blurted, still clinging onto his older brother tightly. "Hermione told me to walk around carefully - she'd just come back from the library, right, so we were walking back together, and she was holding a mirror out in front of her, and when I asked her why she was doing that, she said 'ask your brother', so I knew you were dealing with it, and when we got petrified, I wasn't scared at all! I was just bored, waiting for you to hurry up!"
Blake laughed quietly.
"I'm sure you were, Connor," he said. "And I'm sorry for-"
"Oh, shut up, Blakey," Connor replied. "You killed the Basilisk, didn't you? Dumbledore - I mean, Professor Dumbledore told me! Think of how many people you saved!"
"But-"
"Shush! We're celebrating!" Connor turned to Dumbledore. "Professor Dumbledore, can me and Blake get the day off to catch up? I think this whole ordeal has been very traumatic," he said in a sorrowful tone, clutching his heart dramatically.
Dumbledore chuckled gently.
"Of course, Connor. But first things first - there's a fresh change of clothes on your bed. Why don't you go and get changed, and meet Blake in the Great Hall? I've something to talk to your older brother about."
As Connor clambered away to Gryffindor Tower, accompanied by Professor McGonagall, Dumbledore turned to Blake.
"Can you think of why I'd like to talk to you, Blake?"
"Connor woke up before everyone else, didn't he?" the Slytherin boy responded after a moment of thinking. "I was wondering where the rest of the victims were. But I thought the Mandrakes wouldn't be ready until the end of May?"
"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded. "The rest of the victims are still petrified. Connor, however, woke up early. The only possible explanation is that a mysterious helper fed him the Mandrake Restorative Draught, without anyone realising. Do you know who that could be?"
"No, Professor," Blake immediately lied. "But I'm very grateful - if you know who it is, I'd like to thank them."
"I'm afraid not, Blake," Dumbledore said, a knowing twinkle in his eyes. "We do not know who this mysterious individual was either - but they left a note. We were hoping you might be able to make sense of it?"
Dumbledore handed him a neatly cut and folded piece of scroll.
As Blake unfolded it, he made out what was written on it. The handwriting was new - he'd never seen it before, but it was neat and impeccable, and he knew whose it was immediately.
My answer is no, but I will do the same.
Blake almost laughed out loud, but he refrained at the last second.
"Something funny, Renshaw?" Snape asked suspiciously.
"No, sir. Just a twitch. But I'm sorry, Professor Dumbledore, I've no clue what this means. Maybe you can ask Connor when he comes back?"
"Perhaps, perhaps," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling again.
Before the conversation could continue any further, Connor arrived back at the infirmary doors in record time, trailed by a panting McGonagall.
Blake grinned.
Thank you, Greengrass.
"Let's go!"
As expected, Dumbledore didn't ask Connor about the note, instead wishing them well as he descended down the stairs, followed closely by Snape and McGonagall.
That's what I thought, old man. You can't prove sh*t.
Soon enough, Blake and Connor had made their way to the Great Hall, where the tables were already filled with all of the food, ready for lunch.
"So, what's Mum been saying?" Connor asked immediately through bites of chicken wing. "Does - hm, this is good - does she know I got petrified?"
"No," Blake shook his head, "I asked Dumbledore not to tell her, and he obliged."
"And what exactly happened? With the Chamber and the Heir and the Basilisk, I mean."
"It's a long story, Connor."
"We have time, Blakey."
Blake debated the pros and cons in his mind. I don't want to scare him off - actually, who am I kidding? This is Connor I'm talking about - he woke up from petrification 30 minutes ago and he's been perfectly fine, if not better than before.
The issue isn't him being scared or anxious - the issue's him getting involved unnecessarily with these antics, especially considering how much he idolises Harry. Connor's going to undoubtedly get himself involved if he thinks it's morally just - that's just how he is.
But at the same time, refusing to tell him… He'll learn the truth eventually, and when he does, he could get the wrong story, or wrong influences. If he's going to get involved, isn't it safer for him to get involved under my influence? That way, I can watch over him - actually, I could probably take advantage of the information too, and Connor could act as my own voice in Gryffindor. If I'm honest and tell him, his trust in me would grow too.
I guess, as always, it comes down to a question of whether or not I can back myself to protect Connor if he does get involved.
Do I back myself?
Blake stared at Connor, who was staring back at him expectantly. He sighed.
It's settled, then.
"Ok, Connor, listen up - like I said, it's a long story. First, we have to go back to well before our time. Tell me, Connor, what do you know about Lord Voldemort?"
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