In the other common rooms across Hogwarts, Henry's conduct during the match had become the dominant topic of conversation.
In the Ravenclaw common room, a small group of second-years had gathered around one of the star chart tables, cups of apple cinnamon tea steaming beside their books.
"I genuinely didn't expect that," said a boy with glasses, turning it over thoughtfully. "I always assumed Slytherins were the type who would do anything necessary to win."
"You saw it today," said the girl beside him. She looked across to Cho Chang. "Cho, you've been to his tea party. What do you make of him?"
Cho Chang considered the question for a moment, sorting through the impression Henry had left across their several interactions.
"He's nothing like the Slytherin stereotype," she said. "Muggle nobility has its own tradition of chivalry and what they call a gentleman's conduct. Perhaps this particular prince is the genuine article."
In the Hufflepuff common room, the warmth of the basement space made the conversation feel easy and natural. Hannah was in the middle of telling a few friends her own perspective on events.
"I knew he was a good person!" Susan said, around a mouthful of honey cake. "I felt it the first time we met him on the train. Do you remember, Hannah? He was so easy to talk to."
"And he saved Neville during flying class," Justin added, turning his quill over in his fingers, something like quiet pride on his face. "Different situation, but the same instinct. He just doesn't seem to let House boundaries change what he does when someone actually needs help."
An older boy passing by caught the conversation and paused. "That's exactly what Hufflepuff values most: loyalty, integrity, and genuine care for other people. Those qualities don't belong to any one House. Professor Dumbledore always said it isn't our abilities that define us, it's our choices. Mr. Wales made a choice today that deserves real respect."
The first-years nodded, and their sense of connection to Henry settled into something a little warmer and more solid.
The atmosphere in Gryffindor Tower was more complicated. The match had been lost, but the common room was not as subdued as it might otherwise have been.
Ron had collapsed into the armchair nearest the fire and was staring into the flames with a furrowed brow.
"He still won," Ron muttered eventually. His tone was less resentful than genuinely conflicted.
Hermione sat beside him with a book open on her lap that she was not reading. "But he saved Harry first, Ron. He could have done nothing at all, or just called out to a professor. Instead, he flew directly into it and used a very precise combination of spells under a lot of pressure. That's simply a fact."
"I know it's a fact!" Ron scratched the back of his head with frustrated energy. "That's precisely the problem. There are decent people in Slytherin, actual ones, and I don't know what to do with that information."
Neville, hunched into the cushion beside them, said quietly, "When I fell during flying class, if he hadn't come up after me, I think I would have been badly hurt. He's a good person. Even if he is Slytherin."
"He saved me and caught the Snitch," Harry said, with the straightforwardness of someone who has had time to think it through. "Both of those things are true at the same time. Professor McGonagall was right, the competition should be fair, and today it was."
Fred and George appeared from nowhere and arrived on either side of Harry simultaneously.
"Come on, Harry," George said, with a broad grin. "Admit it. Their new Seeker is genuinely difficult to dislike. That's quite unusual for a Slytherin, and it's rather refreshing."
"Especially," Fred added, adopting a reasonable approximation of Flint's gravelled voice, "'his conduct during the match is equally worthy of note.' Merlin's beard, can you imagine what it cost Flint to say that out loud? I think Wales might be one of the most interesting people in this school purely on the strength of that moment."
The following morning, a note arrived with Henry's breakfast, delivered by Lucy in the usual quiet way.
The handwriting was familiar from his very first week at Hogwarts, the loose, slightly anarchic scrawl of someone who had never found penmanship worth worrying about.
Henry, if you are free after class this morning, please do come to my office. The password is 'Acid Pop'.
It was signed with a single name: Albus Dumbledore.
After Herbology, Henry made his way to the Headmaster's office.
The gargoyle leapt aside at the password, the spiral staircase rose, and the door at the top opened onto the familiar circular room, humming faintly with the sounds of its many silver instruments.
Dumbledore was standing before one of the portraits, apparently in conversation with someone. When he heard footsteps, he turned, his expression warm and entirely unhurried behind his half-moon spectacles.
"Ah, Henry. Welcome. A lemon drop, perhaps? Or you might try some of the newest sizzling honey, I acquired it just last week and it is rather extraordinary." He gestured toward the collection of sweet jars on the desk.
"Thank you, Headmaster," Henry said politely, and took the indicated chair. Sugar, in Dumbledore's quantities, was best admired from a distance.
Dumbledore settled into the chair opposite, his long fingers laced together, his gaze resting on Henry with the particular quality of observation that always suggested he was considering more than whatever was immediately visible.
"First, allow me to offer my congratulations again on yesterday's match. A remarkable performance, and an even more remarkable conclusion."
"Thank you, Headmaster. The team's preparation made it possible."
"Teamwork is certainly important," Dumbledore agreed, inclining his head. "But individual choices often determine the shape of events at the moments that matter most. I am speaking of your decision to assist Harry Potter."
He paused, giving the words room.
"Henry, in the full intensity of competition, with the entire school watching, at a moment that could have decided the outcome, choosing to abandon your own advantage in order to help a rival in genuine danger requires a clear mind and something considerably more than ordinary courage. What struck Minerva most, she told me, was not only that you did it, but the manner in which you did it. As though it were simply the thing to be done."
He leaned forward very slightly.
"Those who are born to privilege, and who discover in themselves exceptional ability, are often drawn, quite naturally, toward a view of the world that is centred on their own position in it. You, at that moment, saw a classmate in need and moved toward him without hesitation. That instinct is not common, and it is not something that can be taught. It reflects one of the founding purposes of this school: to protect young witches and wizards, whatever their background, and to give them a place to learn and grow without fear."
"Minerva told me everything. She awarded Slytherin twenty points, and I think that reward was for more than the act of saving a classmate. It was for something that is, in the end, rather rarer than good spellwork."
He met Henry's eyes directly, his expression entirely sincere.
"You have a genuinely good heart, Henry."
+++++++
Early access: patreon.com/palevolt100