They were in the Room of Requirement four days before the task - all eight of them - when Harry told them about the Patronus lessons.
"It works," he said, thankfully.
"Of course you are," Tracey said sarcastically but not maliciously, in a way that resulted in Harry looking slightly caught off guard.
"What does the message sound like?" Charlotte asked.
"Like me," Harry said. "But coming from the stag. It's weird." He paused. "He said to keep it short. Location and whether I'm alright. That's all I'll need to send."
"And then what?" Tracey said.
"And then Dumbledore comes," Blake said. "With whoever he's managed to get there." And hopefully me.
"Fudge is actually coming," Harry said. "Dumbledore told me tonight. Something about an official Ministry presence for the final task, protocol, all of that. He didn't tell Fudge the real reason obviously, but Fudge agreed - probably wants to be seen in the pictures."
"Good," Blake said. Of course Dumbledore had managed it, he thought, rolling his eyes. He always does. But he had to admit, he was very happy (for once) with how Dumbledore was handling this situation. He's not hiding anything about this, I think - finally, everyone's in the loop.
"And what about you, Blake?" Hermione asked. "What's your plan?"
"Don't worry about that," he grinned, turning to Zabini and Daphne, who both grinned back at him. Despite the awkwardness between him and Daphne, they both couldn't stop themselves from that feeling of nervous excitement that rushed through them whenever something like this was going on.
"We're ready - trust me, it's bound to work."
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Ok, then. What about on the day? What's the plan for keeping the fake Moody occupied?"
"Dumbledore's going to keep him occupied," Harry answered. "On the day, Dumbledore will put himself next to the imposter, so he can't move - if he tries to, Dumbledore will stick with him, restricting the movements, until Blake's able to signal that the real one's free."
"Makes sense," Ron nodded. "So, what do the rest of us do on the day?"
"Nothing apart from keeping a lookout," Zabini said grimly. "Us four and you two - we need to be there so that the imposter doesn't get any suspicion that we're onto him - if any more of us search for the real Moody, there's a massive chance he'll figure out we're up to something. Other than that, we shouldn't act at all, unless something goes wrong - then we just have to improvise."
"And Skeeter?" Charlotte reminded them.
"Taken care of," Ron said smugly, as Hermione produced a small jar from her bag. Inside was a small beetle, frantically trying to escape. Hermione shook it violently.
"So, she is an Animagus," Tracey said, amazed.
The room was quiet for a moment.
"That's everything, isn't it?"
Everyone nodded.
"So," Blake said. "Is everyone ready?"
/
That evening, Blake set his part of the plan in motion. He was sat in the common room, alone, when a group of older Slytherins - 6th years, if he wasn't mistaken - walked in, loudly discussing the Triwizard Tournament.
This was the new dynamic within Slytherin - unlike when Blake had first joined, now, thanks to him and his friends, there was a progressive voice within the House. It was no longer the place where you could spout blood purist hatred without a care in the world.
And ironically, part of the reason why was because of a very simple reason - students' hatred of homework.
It was always in Slytherin nature to be cunning and get away with whatever they could, after all, and what better deal was there for these rich, sneaky children, than to get their homework done for them, with the guarantee of no one catching them, and whatever grade they desired?
But doing so would mean that they'd have to talk to Blake - they'd have to talk to the muggleborn Slytherin. And this wasn't just any muggleborn student, but quite possibly the most prodigious student Hogwarts had seen since Dumbledore or the Dark Lord themselves. They couldn't spit their hatred at him - instead, they'd been forced to speak to him as equals, with respect.
And in doing so, eventually, despite all the propaganda they'd been taught before, and even still at home after months upon months - even years upon years - these children's fake respect and words had been turned true.
It makes sense, Blake thought to himself, as he closed the book he was reading. After all, no one's born with hatred.
Unfortunately, however, the older Slytherins weren't so fortunate. It was clear to Blake that their pride and hatred would never let them see him as an equal, no matter how much talent or ability he showed.
But they can't say anything, Blake thought with glee, standing up from his chair in the common room, facing in their general direction. They can't do anything to me - they couldn't even if they tried.
Ever since Blake had sent Malfoy to the infirmary in 2nd year, and especially after the Quidditch World Cup, it seemed that the older Slytherins were becoming increasingly aware of just how powerless they were in front of Blake. They certainly couldn't afford to make the quips and remarks they used to make in front of him, so instead they pushed their luck, testing the boundaries.
Once, they'd mentioned Tracey's parents, and their financial situation, apparently trying to see if they could get away with insulting Blake's friends.
They couldn't.
Now, it seems, they were trying to insult Harry Potter, knowing that Blake was friends with a Gryffindor, and thinking that Blake couldn't possibly defend a person that continuously fought Slytherins and snubbed them from House Cup victory.
Maybe they're right, he thought with a smile. Not directly, anyway.
Blake slowly stalked towards the group of 6th years. It was a group of their Quidditch team, he realised. Perfect, he thought, grinning, seeing the familiar faces of Adrian Pucey, Cassius Warrington and Miles Bletchley.
As he quickened his pace, the three of them noticed him coming, confusion imminent on their faces as he kept getting closer and closer, until they realised what his intentions were.
"Oi, Renshaw!" Pucey shouted, from on the floor. "What d'you think you're doing?"
I would've thought three of these fat, stinky 6th years would be harder to knock down by myself, Blake thought idly as he turned. The common room was deathly silent, all eyes on the four of them.
"Is there a problem?" he said icily.
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