So, new story! Uh, I'm not planning on putting up the entire story right away (especially considering I don't have it finished yet). I do, however, have ~25k more already written but I figured I'd post the first chapter, see what people think, before I continue to write more. So, any comments, advice and/or opinions would be greatly appreciated. Thanks! Please enjoy!

Harry may, or may not, be in character, I seem inclined to write him as kind of angsty/ranty (though not too much), my friend assured me he was fine, but I thought I should let you know.

Also, this work has been read over and commented by kehinki (whom is under the same penname on archiveofourown with a wonderful Avengers Steve/Tony fic, by the way). She listened to all my crazy ideas with patience and helpful suggestions, so it's all thanks to her! And the summary of this fic is from her as well.

Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever, own Harry Potter or anything associated and I am not making any profit from this story.

Ages:

Harry, Blaise – 15

Spoilers:

Harry Potter Universe: Books and movies 1-5

Arc One: Alliance

Chapter One: Opening a New Can of Worms

Harry Potter dutifully followed his relatives through the packed muggle mall. He had been forced to come along due to his aunt Petunia having a short flash of insight. She had insisted to her husband that leaving Harry alone in the house could lead to him destroying their prized possessions with his "freakishness", or rather, his magical ability (they had not forgotten him blowing up his aunt or putting their "precious Dudders" inside that snake pen).

So, here he was, trailing the Dursley family, wearing Dudley's hand-me-down clothes that were four sizes too big and threatening to fall off of him. The jeans and sneakers he was wearing had several holes and his glasses were cracked again (basically, he looked like he couldn't afford anything in the mall, which explained why he was getting so many disgusted and odd looks from fellow shoppers).

Vernon Dursley, his oh-so-not-delightful uncle, was busy shooting dark glares at him whenever he happened to glance in his direction. Dudley, his oh-so-not-intelligent cousin, was still complaining about Harry accompanying them and that he was embarrassing and would ruin his "image" (Harry wasn't sure how his presence would change the fact that Dudley was a chubby, arrogant idiot who didn't know what a dictionary was but then, he wasn't Dudley). Petunia, his oh-so-not-elegant aunt, seemed content to simply ignore his presence all together and prattled on about this wonderful dress she had seen on TV that would make her look even skinnier than she already was.

A sudden hand on his shoulder interrupted his musings and he looked up at Vernon, who was scowling down at him. "Go away. We leave at six o'clock. Be at the food court by then or we leave without you." With that said, Vernon left with Petunia and Dudley following after (Dudley had the wonderful thought to stick his tongue out at him – as if he wanted to stay with the family). Before he could figure out a place to sit and wait (and were there any maps around? He did need to find the food court after all – and hope the Dursley's didn't leave him here accidentally-on-purpose again), he was interrupted from his inner musings.

"Potter?" A smooth, calm voice questioned from behind him. Harry turned around and simply stared.

The owner of the voice was a teenaged boy (his own age, he knew) with dark skin, short, spiky black hair and cobalt blue eyes. He was wearing dark washed jeans and a button up blue shirt along with running shoes. He also wore a thin leather bracelet on his right wrist and an intricate silver ring on his left index finger. There was a small, black backpack slung over one shoulder. This was Blaise Zabini, a to-be-fifth-year-student such as himself, but part of the Slytherin House (of which hated muggleborns and muggle lovers – which begged the question of why he was here, in a muggle mall, wearing muggle clothing).

"Zabini?" Harry blurted, staring in bewilderment at the other boy.

"Hullo Potter. What are you up to?" He gave Harry an analyzing stare. "Clothes shopping, I'd hope."

Harry felt his face burn. Of course it had to be a Slytherin that would see him dressed like a homeless person. "What are you doing here, Zabini? You do realize this is a muggle area, don't you?" he asked, snidely.

Zabini raised an elegant eyebrow, looking amused (and did he have to look so cool? Many of the muggle girls were eyeing him up like he was candy). "I am aware of that, Potter. As you can see, I am dressed for the occasion." He added a wink as he talked, sending a group of girls nearby into a fit of giggles. "You, however, are entirely degrading your high status with your current state of dress."

"Really? Then do tell me how I can degrade my 'high status' any lower than what's been written in the papers?" Harry snapped, feeling all the pent up rage from the end of fourth year and the beginning of summer threatening to overrun him.

The Slytherin remained silent, simply staring at him with a bemused look on his face. Harry shifted awkwardly, hoping his face wasn't as red as it felt. "What?" he finally blurted, attempting to glare at the other boy through his cracked glasses.

"You presumed that I was referring to your status as the 'Boy-Who-Lived'," Zabini stated rhetorically. "When I was actually speaking of your status as the Potter heir."

"The 'Potter heir'?" Harry repeated in bewilderment. Though he supposed it made sense, since he was the last living Potter.

"Yes," Zabini said slowly. "As you are the only remaining Potter, it is your duty to uphold the honour of your family heritage. That includes dressing well and not making yourself into a laughing stock in the papers."

"Yeah well…" Harry fumbled, uncertain as to what to say. But then, when was the last time he had received a lecture from a wizard, let alone a Slytherin, about his attire?

"No one has told you this?" Zabini asked, sounding incredulous and that (annoying) eyebrow rose again.

"People keep secrets from me in order to protect me," Harry stated weakly. He had been arguing with himself since the beginning of summer about this very topic. He was only in his third week of being trapped in the Dursley household, wherein the family wasn't hesitant to display their hatred and disgust of him. He was not allowed to receive the Daily Prophet, so he had no idea what was happening after the Tri-Wizard Tournament and his only contact with friends were through letters with Ron and Hermione but they wouldn't tell him anything about what was going on because "Dumbledore said it was too dangerous". The only thing that he had gotten out of the letters, aside from their social lives, were that Remus and Sirius couldn't write to him because Remus was a werewolf and Sirius was a convict (and Dumbledore didn't want anymore "bad press" to befall Harry, should the letters be found – they all seemed to forget that Remus and Sirius are Marauders – even Sirius and Remus, though Harry had no way to point that out, since he had no contact with them).

"What could they possibly be protecting you from by not telling you about your family and the expectations you are to uphold?" Zabini still sounded skeptical, but Harry noticed a tinge of annoyance in his voice.

"Well…" Harry started but then stopped. What would withholding information about his family do to protect him? Unless his family was secretly evil or hated the wizarding world or something, then he could see everyone not telling him about his parents (though he'd still be rightly pissed). Would it be so wrong to know more about his parents, stuff that the entire wizarding world didn't already know? That his dad was James Potter, a pureblood in Gryffindor whom was a Chaser on the quidditch team, and was also a prankster and an animagus (though few people knew that) and a bit of a prat (and don't forget that Harry looks almost exactly like him). Or that his mom was Lily Evans, a redheaded muggleborn witch with green eyes (so like his own), was book smart and who hated his father for several years before something changed her mind.

"Why are you asking me all these questions?" Harry demanded instead, determined not to have another inner rant (especially in a muggle mall – he had a tendency to accidentally release his magic – and blow things up – when mad).

"Why not?" Zabini countered. "I'm only asking questions that you should know the answers to."

Harry fell silent, feeling embarrassed, frustrated and angry all at once. He was getting tired of people expecting things from him, and of hiding things from him. Zabini sighed heavily, shaking his head.

"All right, come along then," Zabini said, grabbing Harry's arm and pulling him through the crowd. Harry sputtered and tried to pull away.

"What are you doing, Zabini? Let me go!" Harry growled out.

"I'm helping you," Zabini insisted, guiding Harry into what looked like a clothing store. There was only one other person in there; a young woman dressed in black slacks, a powder blue dress shirt and high heels. Her chestnut brown hair was pulled into a neat, high ponytail and her blue eyes were regarding the items in front of her carefully. She was organizing a stack of clothes and Harry noticed a tag pinned to her shirt that read 'Amy'.

Amy looked up when they entered and smiled. "Welcome, can I help you with anything?"

Before Harry had a chance to speak, Zabini took over. "He needs an entire outfit, as you can see. Probably an entire wardrobe."

Amy nodded, sizing Harry up and wandering closer. "Right, I'd say slim fit jeans and a button-up would do wonderfully. What do you think?" She asked, looking at Zabini, whom nodded.

"I am right here you know." Harry informed them, frowning. Amy smiled at him sympathetically.

"We know, sweetie. Don't worry, we'll have you looking dashing in a few minutes." She said. With that, she headed over to the racks and began grabbing several articles of clothing. Zabini chuckled from his position next to Harry.

Amy handed the stack to Harry and ushered him towards the change rooms. "Go and change now, I need to know if I got the sizes right."

Harry shook his head and sighed when he was in one of the stalls. "How did I get into this?" He wondered. How often was one dragged by a Slytherin into a clothing store?

He had to admit, the clothing really looked good on him. Harry walked out of the stall and Amy grinned handing him a belt and a pair of sneakers. Zabini smirked at him and nodded approvingly.

"Much better," the Slytherin said.

As Harry spent the next while being bombarded with clothing and accessories, he realized that Zabini really knew a lot about fashion (which clearly included current muggle trends). Harry was certain that if Zabini had gone to a muggle school, he would have been one of the most popular, well dressed boys in school (not unlike his current popularity at Hogwarts – even Hermione and Ginny thought he was cute, for a Slytherin.)

It was coming to five o'clock by the time they finished. Zabini paid for the clothing (with a credit card – he was certain that he had done an incredible impression of a gasping fish, judging by Amy's laugh and Zabini's smirk) and Harry walked out of the store dressed nicely and receiving many smiles from girls walking past. They sat down at a table in the food court, one chair taken up by bags of clothing and accessories.

"Thanks." Harry said quietly, "I can, uh, pay you back by the time we get back to school. I'll have to go to Gringotts first."

"Don't worry about it," Zabini dismissed. "I'm just glad that you're out of those horrid garments." His expression of disgust was so intense that Harry surprised himself (and probably Zabini) by chuckling.

"You really care about looks, don't you?" he asked in amusement. Zabini looked affronted.

"Looks show your status. You, Potter, are the heir of a rich and powerful family and yet you were dressed like you had wandered in from the nearest homeless shelter. That is unacceptable." Zabini explained, still looking insulted. Harry had the feeling that Zabini had thought that it was obvious and was disgruntled that Harry had not lived up to it. "It's a good thing we wear uniforms at school," he muttered, glancing at Harry.

"Why are you doing all this?" Harry asked, changing the subject. Zabini looked at him before turning his attention to the people milling about them. "Zabini?"

"Obviously, it was because I couldn't stand to see one of your status dressed so horridly," Zabini answered, still not looking at him.

"And?" Harry asked. Zabini glanced at him with a raised eyebrow. "I know there's more to it than that. Or did we just happen to run into each other at a muggle mall?"

"I need a favour," Zabini said quietly.

"What kind of favour?" Harry asked suspiciously. What could a pureblood Slytherin want from him?

"Shortly before school let out, I received a letter informing me that my family can no longer stay neutral," Zabini started, sighing. Harry frowned. The rumours at school had been that the Zabini's have been neutral since before the war. They had refused to side with Voldemort, but had not helped the other side either. Somehow, they had managed to escape conflict when Voldemort was rising in power. "Voldemort's decided that my mother and I will become Death Eaters. My mother's newest husband is one and he's starting to convince my mother."

"Oh. And how am I supposed to help?" Harry asked. From what he remembered, Zabini's mother was known as the "Black Widow". She would get married, then shortly afterwards, her husband would die in a tragic but accidental death, like being attacked by a Hippogriff or having a heart attack. When they died, she would receive all of their money and assets. No one could prove that she was causing their deaths (if she actually was) and men still married her, knowing what had happened to her previous husbands.

"I need to stay away from my house for the summer," Zabini admitted, refusing to meet the other boy's gaze.

"You… you want to stay with me at the Dursley's?" Harry asked in utter bewilderment. Why would a Slytherin (or anyone really) want to willingly put themselves through that?

"No! At one of your estates!" Zabini corrected, looking rightly horrified.

"My estates?" Harry repeated dumbly and was once again on the other side of a disbelieving stare.

"Oh Merlin, you really don't know anything about your family, do you?" Zabini muttered. Harry blushed and scowled.

"Well people don't exactly tell me things!" he snapped in defense, glaring defiantly. Zabini shook his head.

"I was just surprised that you didn't know. Look, I can tell you all I know about your family, if you'd like," Zabini told him.

"In return for you staying at one of 'my estates'?" Harry asked and Zabini nodded but said nothing. They sat in silence as Harry internally debated with himself. So if he agreed, he may learn more about his parents than anyone has been willing to tell him. But then, Zabini may be making it all up and he wouldn't even know. And Zabini's a Slytherin and possibly a Death Eater in training, despite what he says. If he doesn't, he may pass up on one of the only chances to learn about his family and may (if Zabini is telling the truth) cause Zabini to either become a Death Eater or be tortured and killed. No matter what his mind was screaming at him, his heart was louder. There was no way he could risk having Zabini killed because he had refused to help him (especially after what had happened to Cedric. Voldemort's words of "kill the spare" and Cedric's glazed over eyes still haunted his dreams. Just another person he couldn't save).

"All right," he finally said and saw Zabini look at him, his face beginning to relax. "I'll help you."

A true smile graced the Slytherin's face as relief lit up his features. "Thank you."

"But we'll have to wait a bit," Harry added, watching Zabini's face become expressionless (and no he didn't feel guilty about raising Zabini's hopes and then crushing them). "I have to go back to the house now, but we'll need to arrange a time and a place so we can work through this."

It was closing to six o'clock by now. The time Vernon had said they would come to the food court to pick him up. He wondered briefly how they would respond to his new clothing but then decided that he really didn't care.

Zabini relaxed again and nodded. "When will be a good time for you?"

"Any time really, I don't have much to do this summer." Harry said, a little bitterness slipping through. After all, it wasn't like he had any friends to hang out with or family to talk to.

"Boy, let's go!" a voice snapped and the teens looked up to see Vernon Dursley lumbering towards them. "Who's this?" he asked rudely, glaring at Zabini.

Zabini gave a polite smile and stood, holding out his hand. "Blaise Zabini, sir. I ran into Harry here and he was nice enough to show me around." Harry was surprised to hear Zabini speak with a thick Italian accent but didn't show it.

Vernon frowned at him for a brief moment (in which Harry wondered the best way to run interference between a brute of a man and an intelligent wizard in the middle of a muggle mall), when the man relaxed and smiled. "Is that right? Well, at least he's good for something then. I'm Vernon Dursley, this boy's uncle. Are you just visiting?"

Harry openly gaped. Was his uncle being nice? He had never been this nice before, except with Petunia and Dudley. And surely he'd suspect that Zabini was a wizard like Harry was (and with how much Vernon hated anything associated with him, he would have immediately jumped to that conclusion).

"Ah, I'm currently waiting on a hotel while I play tourist." Zabini chuckled, "My mother decided that I needed to venture out of Italy, and thought Surrey would be a good place to start."

Vernon chuckled. "Smart woman, Surrey's one of the best places to visit." He boasted. "Waiting on a hotel? Are you having trouble?"

"It's fine. This trip was a little sudden, so I had a hard time finding a decent place with vacancy." Zabini shrugged helplessly. Vernon frowned, looking thoughtful (that couldn't be good, Harry decided).

"You liking Surrey so far?" Vernon asked. Zabini nodded.

"Yes, it's quite nice here, aside from the weather, of course," he joked. "And I've had nice company, so far." Zabini glanced over at Harry as he said this. Vernon nodded.

"Well, if you'd like, you can stay with us until you find a hotel," Vernon said, ignoring Harry's open mouth and wide eyes. Zabini grinned.

"Really? That would be wonderful…but, I don't want to impose," Zabini said, looking contrite. Vernon grabbed his shoulder.

"Nonsense, we'd be glad if you'd stay. Especially if you can keep this boy," here, he gestured to Harry, "distracted."

"That, I can do," Zabini said confidently, grinning again.

"Then it's settled, you're staying with us," Vernon said. He then wandered over to where Petunia and Dudley were browsing through several shopping bags they carried.

"You… you… but, how?" Harry stuttered, staring at the other boy in disbelief. Zabini chuckled quietly.

"The wonders of magic, Potter." He said, raising his right wrist to show the leather bracelet he wore. "Though I didn't expect for your uncle to invite me over, but this does help us now doesn't it?"

"What is that?" Harry demanded, staring at the bracelet. How could a simple bracelet make his uncle more happy and agreeable? But then… magic. He's found over the last few years that magic can do the strangest of things (and really, who needs mirrors that talk to you, or books that try to eat you?)

"It's a perception charm," Zabini said. "Those who are non-magical or have low magical power are influenced into seeing or believing what the wearer wants them to, to a certain degree anyway. It doesn't always work though; there are certain muggles with strong enough minds to see through it, and wizards and witches with high magical power can counter it. In essence, your relatives believe me to be an Italian tourist with no knowledge of the wizarding community and in need of room and board for a few days, but I can't alter your perception because of your magic."

"Right…" Harry said slowly, looking amused. Zabini raised that annoying eyebrow again and he shrugged. "It's just… that's the most I've ever heard you say at one time, you remind me of Hermione." He said this before he thought it through, and winced, wondering how Zabini would react to being compared to a muggleborn. (But he really was; he was smart, had the second highest grade in all of his classes behind Hermione, though Harry remembered that there was a class Zabini beat Hermione in. And Zabini apparently tended to go on long rambling explanations about things.)

Zabini looked amused. "It's a good thing I'm not Draco, Potter, or that comment could have been taken the wrong way."

Before Harry could respond, his relatives came over.

"Hello, I'm Petunia," Petunia said with a small smile, "I heard you were having hotel trouble. You don't mind sharing a room with Harry, do you?"

"Not at all, he's quite interesting," Zabini said. "I'm Blaise, by the way."

"Well, it's wonderful to meet you Blaise. I'm glad we can help." Petunia said.

"I'm Dudley. In my house, anything that doesn't belong to my cousin belongs to me. Don't touch anything you're not supposed to." Dudley said, but then he grinned and clapped Zabini on the back (Harry winced and wondered how long it would take the Slytherin to break and just stun or maim the Dursley's… which he wouldn't mind seeing, actually). "Just kidding."

Zabini chuckled and nodded, shifting slightly so Dudley's hand fell off his shoulder.

"I'm thankful for your hospitality," Zabini told the family, looking faintly embarrassed and grateful at the same time (Zabini was a pretty good actor, considering he knew how much the other boy would rather wear horrid clothing (he really cared about his looks) than be near them. Harry wondered what the Dursley's would think if they ever found out Zabini was a nasty, freakish wizard.)

"Well, come along. Our car's out this way," Vernon told Zabini, motioning down to a South set of doors that led outside. The Dursley's, plus Harry and Zabini, began mingling with the crowd to get to the exit.

Harry eyed his relatives for a moment. They seemed the same, aside from helping Zabini. The only thing different was that they were not insulting or glaring at himself, but were simply ignoring him unless they had to acknowledge him. He wondered how powerful that bracelet of Zabini's actually was, considering the Dursley's still seemed a little wary of the Italian. Harry furrowed his brows in thought; would they become suspicious if he and Zabini didn't call each other by first names, or interact as though they had just met and that Zabini had no idea that he was a wizard?

"Zabini," Harry hissed, as he came up beside the other boy. Zabini glanced at him but kept walking. "I think we should call each other by our first names, or they'll get suspicious."

Zabini – no, Blaise – looked at him thoughtfully for a long moment, before slowly nodding. "Fine. I'm Blaise, you're Harry." Was all he said, continuing to follow the Dursley's.

Harry nodded in return, though he frowned slightly. Had Zabini thought that he wouldn't know his first name? (he wouldn't admit it out loud, but the only reason he had known was because of school rumours and Zabini's introduction to the Dursley's – Zabini was known as the quietest Slytherin for a reason.). He shook his head and looked forward. There was no use in getting into any more internal debates than he had already done that day.

Then another thought came to him: what would Zabini think of the car? Would he know what it was? Would he be willing to get in it?

Surprisingly, however, Zabini – Blaise, his name is Blaise – didn't bat an eye at the muggle mode of transportation and instead climbed into the backseat with Harry and Dudley without complaint.

"So, where is it exactly that you live?" Zabini was questioning Vernon, looking curious (How had Harry never noticed that Zabini was such a great actor? He even had a small smile! And at some point, Harry would start thinking of Zabini as Blaise… hopefully.)

"Not too far off, in Little Whinging, it's only about a twenty minute drive from here." Vernon told their guest. "It's a nice place, in a nice neighbourhood."

"Really? Nice neighbourhoods seem so hard to find nowadays," Zabini commented almost wistfully.

"Too right," Vernon agreed. "There are always pesky solicitors and those thugs that like to hang around."

"Exactly." Zabini nodded. Harry wondered if Zabini was thinking of Death Eaters and muggleborns 'invading' the Pureblood domain, but the other boy's face gave nothing away. "In my neighbourhood, there are a lot of… thugs, as you called them. They have no respect for the families that just want to stay out of any fights."

Harry glanced over at him, but Zabini was looking at Vernon, listening to him ramble on about what had been on the news lately, and asking him more about Zabini's home.

When they finally managed to reach the Dursley household intact (Harry had suspicions that with his bad luck, and a Slytherin in the car with him, something magical was bound to happen. Fortunately, he was wrong), Harry led said Slytherin into the house, and to his own room.

"You can have the bed," Harry told him, "seeing as how you're the guest and all. Do you have any questions, Blaise?" (Harry had been silently practicing for the drive, and was pleased that he could now associate the Slytherin with a first name, without it coming out as an insult.)

Blaise looked amused. "Have you been practicing that the whole car ride?"

Harry flushed bright red. "Not the whole way," he muttered.

He was not sure who was more surprised when Blaise laughed – actually laughed, not mocking in any way. Then Blaise said, "Well, that's something, I suppose. And you can take the bed, I came prepared."

Before Harry could ask what he meant, Blaise reached into his backpack and pulled out a small box that he opened. Inside the box was a miniature bed. Blaise pulled it out and set it on the floor, backing up and pulling Harry with him. As Harry watched, the bed slowly began to grow in size until it reached a regular human-sized bed.

Harry stared in astonishment for a moment, and then remembered magic. Magic, which did weird things like transport you places using an old, disgusting boot or a fireplace or books that screamed when you opened them and portraits that talked to you or flying with cleaning equipment or-. He stopped himself from continuing, fairly certain he would not reach an end to all the bizarre things he had seen magic do.

"…You do realize my aunt and uncle are going to wonder where the second bed came from, right?" Harry finally asked. Blaise smirked

"When a muggle gets near, the bed, and anything on it, looks like an ordinary muggle camping cot. Though it only works for about ten minutes." Blaise shrugged.

"That's handy," Harry muttered. "I've never heard of it."

"It's pretty expensive, I didn't expect you to have heard of it before," Blaise answered and Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Just because the Weasley's-" Harry was cut off.

"It's a simple fact. The Weasley's are not rich, and you don't really associate with any other magical family, so why would they mention an expensive magical bed? I wasn't trying to insult them… Harry," Blaise explained. Harry struggled to hide the grin at Blaise's hesitation in saying his name.

"Guess I wasn't the only one with a name issue." Harry shook his head. "Sorry, I'm just a little high-strung right now with, you know, harbouring a Slytherin in my room. Imagine what everyone'll do to me if they found out." Harry sighed heavily, a little bit exaggerated and was rewarded with a small quirk of the lips from Blaise.

The door to the room opened quickly, slamming into the wall (Harry was thankful he had installed a door-stopper to keep the door from chipping and damaging the wall). Harry glanced over to the other side of the room and noticed that Blaise's magic bed really did turn into a muggle cot.

Vernon stood in the doorway, frowning slightly at the two boys. "Dinner will be ready in a hour." He scowled darkly, before he turned to exit. "And boy, get some blankets and pillows from the closet." He then left the room.

There was a beat of silence before Harry looked at his guest in awe. "Can you stay here all summer?"

Blaise looked amused and raised that (annoying) eyebrow again, so Harry rushed on.

"It's just… it's not me doing all the cooking and I might even get out of cleaning the dishes too. And they're the ones that invited you to stay so they can't complain to me about it!" Harry grinned, looking only partially crazed.

"Or you could just stay at your estate, where you don't have to do any cooking or cleaning unless you want to. And you wouldn't have to deal with your relatives at all," Blaise countered with a small smirk.

"I could, couldn't I?" Harry pondered. He really hadn't thought about doing that but it did make sense, no chores, no relatives and he could still keep an eye on Blaise and pester him about his family and the magical world in general. "That is, of course, if you're actually telling me the truth."

Blaise rolled his eyes, deigning not to provide that comment with an answer and wandered over to his bed that had now reappeared. He adjusted the thick blue quilt and the two pillows before dropping his backpack onto the bed.

"Shall I start teaching you what you should already know? Though we should probably head to Gringotts soon…" Blaise mumbled to himself, frowning. Harry blinked.

"Why would we need to go to Gringotts?" Harry asked. Blaise rolled his eyes.

"Because they keep detailed records of all accounts opened and who opened them. They can also help to explain your responsibilities as the Potter heir and get you into contact with your advisor," Blaise explained.

"… I have an advisor?" Harry finally asked. Blaise sighed.

"Gringotts it is. I'll get us an appointment." Blaise said, pulling out a sheaf of parchment from his bag, along with a quill and a jar of ink. He quickly wrote something onto the parchment and put away the quill and ink. "Do you mind if I borrow your owl? I didn't bring Heleos with me."

"Uh, yeah. If it's okay with her," Harry agreed. He stiffened and waited for the teasing about getting permission from an owl but Blaise just nodded and looked to Hedwig.

"Her name's Hedwig, right?" At Harry's nod, Blaise walked over to the owl. "I need this delivered to Gringotts, Hedwig, are you willing to do that for me?" The Italian held up the sheaf of parchment. Hedwig eyed him, before hooting quietly and sticking out her leg. Blaise gave a small smile and carefully tied the parchment to her leg. "Thank you, Hedwig."

Hedwig hooted and opened her wings, flying out the window that Harry had opened. Harry looked impressed.

"Well, I guess you're all right after all, if Hedwig likes you," he commented, grinning slightly at Blaise's raised eyebrow.

"Good to know you use your owl as a means of determining character," Blaise said dryly.

"It works and I trust Hedwig's decisions." Harry agreed. "Now, why don't you explain the basics of… well, magical stuff."

Blaise sighed but patted the bed beside him. "Magical stuff," he muttered under his breath.

"Boys! Dinner's ready! Get down here!" Vernon yelled up the stairs. Harry winced and immediately stood.

"Later. You get to deal with playing a muggle now," Harry said, already heading for the door. Blaise sighed again but followed.

"How hard can it be to play a muggle?" he muttered to himself.

Dinner was awkward. For one, Harry had not done the cooking so Petunia was subtly glaring at him every so often, though it was obvious Blaise knew judging by the slight smirk he wore (when had he begun to understand Blaise's facial expressions?). Dudley chattered on to his parents about what he and his friends were planning to do tomorrow (which thankfully did not involve Harry-tag: a game where Dudley and his friends chased Harry around the block and when they caught him, for they always did eventually, throw rocks at him or tackle him or sit on him and other things like that.)

Vernon and Petunia questioned Blaise about his own home in Italy and his touring London while Dudley asked him about the videogames and girls they had in Italy (Harry thought he needed to work on his priorities). Blaise took all the questions in stride, saying that he was from a rich family in Italy, no he did not know much about the videogames compared to England but he did know that he was quite fond of the girls in Italy.

The Dursely's seemed to be buying Blaise's story and slowly became more relaxed and open throughout the meal. There was even laughing, though not from Harry or Blaise. Harry was almost petrified during dinner, in too much shock to concentrate on eating a meal that he had not cooked himself.

Once dinner had ended and Blaise had extended his gratitude to the Dursley's, he and Harry retreated to Harry's room. As soon as the door closed, Blaise sighed in relief and flopped gracefully down onto his bed. It was one of the first actions Harry had seen from the pureblood that was commonplace for a teenager and he could not stop a chuckle from escaping his throat.

"Well, you managed dinner," he joked, seating himself on his own bed. Blaise groaned, a little theatrically in Harry's opinion.

"Please do not put me through that again, Potter. Your relatives are horrid," Blaise complained, sitting up. Harry laughed.

Just then, Hedwig flew in through the window and landed on the bed next to Blaise. She hooted and trilled her feathers at him. Blaise gave a small smile and reached out.

"Hullo Hedwig," he greeted untying a letter from her leg. Hedwig hooted again and hopped over to her cage, where Harry gave her an owl treat.

"What is that?" Harry asked as Blaise opened a wax sealed envelope.

"A response from Gringotts, I'd assume," Blaise said, pulling out some parchment and unfolding it. He grinned as he read it. "I was right. The goblins are furious that you weren't aware of your responsibilities or your advisor. They've promised to look into it and requested that we set a grand meeting in a week's time to give them a chance to review their information. Also, they've sent notification to your advisor, a Christian Lucas Williams, and are willing to forward any response they receive to you."

Harry blinked. "That's good, right?"

"Very good." Blaise confirmed. "This means that the goblins are on your side at the moment."

"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked, detecting an underlying meaning.

"Harry, you aren't aware of your responsibilities as the Potter heir, but you're over thirteen years old. At your age, legally you should know, so obviously either you were overlooked because of the war which is unlikely or someone made sure you wouldn't for some reason but informed the goblins that you were aware," Blaise explained, looking slightly apologetic.

"Oh," Harry muttered quietly, frowning. Who could have done that? And why? "Dumbledore," he breathed out, shock and understanding filling him. Dumbledore had access to his father's invisibility cloak; he'd had the key to Harry's vault that his parents had set up for him. Who else could convince the goblins that he would know what he needed?

Blaise winced slightly. "Harry… you don't know that for certain." He trailed off when Harry looked at him.

"But you had your suspicions, didn't you?" Harry challenged, clenching his fists.

Blaise looked him in the eye. "I did," he confirmed. "As you have no living relatives that could take the claim as Potter heir, and yet you did not know your own responsibilities, someone had to have not wanted you to know. And Dumbledore has always been interested in the Potter's, and that would explain why the Weasley's never told you either, they're loyal to Dumbledore and thinks he always knows best."

"Ron… knew?" Harry asked, disbelievingly before scolding himself. Of course Ron knew, he was from a pureblood family, after all. But it still felt horrible to have to be told by a Slytherin, and not only that, but one he had only spoken to in the past day. And for all the reading Hermione has done on the wizarding culture, surely she must have known as well. But she could have assumed that he had known after all and just not mentioned it.

"Harry?" Blaise's voice broke through his thoughts and Harry sighed.

"I need to get new friends." He mumbled, before he turned to his guest. "How soon can we go to Gringotts?"

Blaise blinked at the abrupt change in topic but replied nonetheless. "Well, the letter says about a few days to gather the information and requested a meeting with the goblins, your advisor and anyone else the goblins deem should attend, in a week or so. We can go tomorrow or the day after to review the basic magical stuff as you put it, if you'd like."

"Tomorrow," Harry declared.

"Tomorrow," Blaise agreed.