"He was at a Death Eater resurrection with a wand in his hand," Blake said. "In the graveyard where I fought him personally. Along with Crabbe's dad, who also got put in Azkaban." He glanced at Crabbe Sr's son, who went slightly red. "But by all means, there's a legal argument for your father's innocence, I'd be interested to hear it."
Malfoy's jaw tightened. "You think you're so clever-"
"Draco," Blake said, and Malfoy stopped at his first name, surprised. "I'm going to give you one chance to turn around and walk back to the common room. Take the chance that I've given you. Your father is away - for the first time in your life, he can't demand anything from you or force you to do anything. If it's Voldemort you're worried about, go to Dumbledore - he'll help you."
A beat passed, and for just a fraction of a second, it seemed as though he was considering it.
"He's still my father," he said quietly.
Malfoy raised his wand.
What followed was not, by Blake's standards, a particularly interesting fight. Crabbe and Goyle went down like sacks of potatoes, then Malfoy found himself six feet down the corridor with his wand in Blake's hand and a Stinging Hex across his wand arm that was going to hurt for a couple of days.
Blake set Malfoy's wand on the floor between them.
"Pick it up," he said, "and we do this again. Leave it there and go to bed."
Malfoy looked at him from the floor with an expression that had several things in it - fury, humiliation, and something else that Blake couldn't quite read.
He left the wand on the floor.
Blake walked back to the dormitory.
The Ministry investigated the incident the next morning, apparently, based on what Daphne had heard from the Prefect circle. Possible links to Death Eater activity, standard procedure given everything that had happened. They concluded it wasn't related. Clearly, Fudge had personally made sure the investigation was closed quickly, not wanting it known that his association with Lucius Malfoy was still causing damage.
Predictable, Blake thought, disgusted at the mere thought of Fudge's fat face.
/
On Wednesday evening, the girls rushed to the boys room.
"Did you see the paper?" Tracey said frantically, thrusting the paper under Blake's nose. "The Death Eaters made a move!"
Blake scanned the page immediately.
The victim of the crime was a man named Florean Fortescue - the person who owned the ice cream shop in Diagon Alley. During the quietest hours, 5 masked Death Eaters attempted to Stun and kidnap him, but there were undercover Aurors nearby that witnessed everything. Within seconds, an entire team of both Aurors and Hit Wizards arrived at the scene, with Amelia Bones personally leading them. It seemed that Bones herself eliminated 2 of the 3 now dead Death Eaters, and captured the other.
Blake grinned as he read a statement that she'd given to the Prophet.
The DMLE will never allow the Death Eaters to operate freely in wizarding Britain - for as long as I'm here. If they show their faces, we will strike, and they will be brought to justice, be it in chains, or in death.
Fudge's name was conspicuously absent from the statement, and Blake had to admit that last line was cold.
"She's good," Zabini said, reading it.
"Yeah," Blake agreed. "Fudge is going to hate that."
He studied the pictures carefully. She's not injured at all. She really is strong.
"What?" Tracey said, watching his face.
"Nothing," Blake said.
/
Over the next few weeks, there was a massive growing dissent in the student body of Hogwarts, especially after the so-called Educational Decrees banning clubs that were put in place, suspiciously after Amelia Bones' public display. According to Tracey's parents, there were already calls to oust Fudge for Bones, and it was clear that he was scrambling.
Everyone else got the full Umbridge treatment - the fake smiles, the Educational Decrees, the detention referrals for anyone who expressed even mild disagreement in class. The Golden Trio were on her list almost immediately. Neville. Ginny Weasley. Several others who had the misfortune of looking like they disagreed with something.
Trying to stamp out any supporters of Harry and Dumbledore, he thought. Stupid. Does she think that her being so harsh for no reason will make these people like Fudge? What an idiot.
Blake got a different version. A politer version. Fudge's orders, obviously, and for a while, this seemed to extend to his friends. Connor got off scot free too, and Blake knew that he was definitely a nuisance in class.
She still watched Blake himself too. He could feel the toad eyes tracking him during lessons. He was potentially useful to Fudge while he remained neutral, which meant he was valuable to Umbridge while he remained neutral. She couldn't touch him, and she knew it - and she hated it.
Blake found this privately enjoyable.
What he didn't find enjoyable, however, was Thursday afternoon.
He was coming back from Charms, Charlotte walking beside him, when he saw Connor in the corridor ahead. His brother was coming from the direction of Umbridge's classroom, and he had his right hand tucked against his chest in the way of someone trying not to draw attention to something.
"I'll join you guys, later," he told Charlotte.
Blake was beside him in four steps.
"Show me your hand," he said quietly.
"It's fine-"
"Now, Connor."
Connor uncurled his hand slowly. Across the back of it, in neat thin letters that had dried to a dark red: I will not speak out in class.
Blake looked at it for a long moment.
The corridor around him continued its normal business - students moving, conversations overlapping, somebody laughing at something further down the hall. He registered all of it distantly, the way you register background noise when something foreground has just taken all of your attention.
"How long has this been going on?" he asked.
"Since yesterday," Connor said. "It's really not that bad-"
He handed Connor's hand back to him gently.
"When you go to dinner," he said, "tell all your friends and anyone else this has happened to that I want pictures of everything. Ask your friend, Colin."
"Blake-"
"Go to dinner," he said again, in the same quiet voice, and Connor went.
He turned and walked back down the corridor in the direction of Umbridge's classroom.
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