Chapter 49: Silly Statues and Siriusly Sketchy Schemes
Blaise ZabiniHogwarts, Great Britain
“Well, Mr. Zabini, you are a testament to the vitality of youth,” Madam Pomfrey muttered as she ran her wand along my body. “I believe congratulations are in order. You haven’t been feeling any more shakes or tremors?”
“None since the previous semester, Madam Pomfrey,” I replied honestly. Today was Saturday, which meant I started the day with a checkup from the school healer. “In fact, I’ve been taking fencing lessons and jogging a few miles each day over winter break.”
“I see. If you can participate in vigorous exercise without seeing any ill effects from the cruciatus, then I am tentatively willing to give you a clean bill of health. Let’s hope this is the last time you come to visit me, hmm?”
“Really? You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. Not that I don’t enjoy your company, madam, but I’d like my Saturday mornings back.”
“Yes, diagnostic charms don’t show anything too egregious. How have you been sleeping?”
“Still poorly. I counted. I feel like committing murder when I don’t get at least ten hours, which I suppose is better than twelve.”
“Your body is recovering, albeit slowly. You’ll be back to normal by the end of the year it seems.”
“That’s good.” I hopped off the bed. “Any last nuggets of wisdom for me?”
“Not truly, no. I usually recommend students get more exercise, but you seem to be doing that on your own. Remember, physical exhaustion is acceptable. Magical exhaustion is not,” she said sternly.
“I’ll keep that in mind, Madam Pomfrey.”
“See that you do. Now, shoo. I too would like to enjoy the rest of my morning.”
X
I practically skipped away from the medical wing. I’d figured I was in the clear as far as the shakes caused by dark magic residue went, but it was nice to receive confirmation. Now, I put that out of mind in favor of the task at hand.
Today, being the eleventh, was the first Saturday of the semester, but not the first of the month. That meant that this wasn’t Hogsmeade weekend. Unfortunately, I had business in Hogsmeade, a rather important meeting with the newly released, most eligible bachelor of Magical Britain.
I found Violet and the twins waiting for me on the third floor. I considered showing them the passageway outside the Whomping Willow, but it was January in Scotland. The grounds were covered in a foot of snow and they were quite thoroughly sick of the slushy mess by now. More to the point, snow meant tracks, which meant we couldn’t deny visiting Hogsmeade.
“Yo, Violet, Patils,” I greeted. My Sight flared briefly, giving me the chance to brace before Parvati nearly tackled me to the ground. “Chirpy? It’s good to see you, too.”
“It’s Parvati. You let Violet call you by your name,” she said with a pout.
Padma wrapped me in a hug as well, though she was much gentler than her sister. “Same. Anyone who appreciates a good curry can call me Padma.”
“Ah, so that’s what this is about? I just wanted a bit of diversity for myself,” I told them. “The elves are good, but their range of food options did feel a bit limited.”
“Yeah, well, teaching the elves to cook our native cuisine is still one of the nicest things anyone’s done for us. You know, excluding family, obviously.”
“Obviously. Very well, I suppose you may as well call me Blaise.”
“You don’t have to sound like you’re pulling teeth,” Violet said with a snort of laughter. She joined the hug as well. “And thanks. You know, for the other thing.”
“The socks?” I saw the kick to my shins coming. Unfortunately, I had three girls holding me in place. “Ow! Oi!”
She froze. Her green eyes widened in surprise. “Wait, that hit you?”
“I can’t exactly dodge right now.”
“Oh, right… Yes! Girls, hold him down!”
I felt a foot stomp on my shoes. My rather pricey shoes. “You wanna stop that?”
“Nope. This is payback for all your wisecracking.”
“You know I’m going to get you back for this.”
“Sure, that just means I should enjoy this while I’ve got the advantage,” she said with a smug, shit-eating grin.
“So much for gratitude,” I muttered, eyes rolling with fond amusement. I wiggled a bit and wrapped my arm around Padma so I could jab Violet in the armpit.
“Eep! You ass,” she hissed as she leapt back like a startled cat.
“Enough of that. We’ve got to get going. Well, I do. I’m not sure why you three are joining me.”
“Why not? I want to go see Sirius, too.”
“And these two?”
“I’m teaching them to become delinquents,” she said with a proud grin. “Sirius says it’s a noble calling.”
“That does sound like him.”
I led them towards the statue of Gunhilda de Gorsemoor, better known by today’s students as the One-Eyed Witch. She was a gifted healer and potions mistress who lived in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and was best known for developing the potion to cure dragon pox. These days, most only knew of her achievement thanks to her chocolate frog card.
The statue was of a crone, stooped with age and leaning against a gnarled cane. Her back was hunched, with a prominent hump like a camel. She was mostly bald and thick bandages covered her right eye.
“We’re here,” I said as I ushered them into the small alcove behind the statue. “If you ever want to sneak out to Hogsmeade, this is one of the passageways.”
“One of?” Padma asked with an arched brow. “How many do you know about?”
“Several. Fair warning, the twins know about this one though, so don’t be too surprised if you run into them once in a while.”
“Huh… So this is how they’ve been smuggling contraband. Think we should tell the professors?”
“Absolutely not,” her twin yelped. “Do you want to get pranked into oblivion?”
“They can’t prank anyone if they don’t have any materials.”
“You don’t have to live with them, Pad,” Violet pointed out. “How do you open it?”
“You just need to tap the hump and say, ‘Dissendium,’” I told them. We watched as the hump opened up, revealing a marble slide.
“Nice. Do you know where it leads? It’s kinda weird, isn’t it? Like, why would anyone build a tunnel into town?”
“This one leads straight to the basement of Honeyduke’s.”
“The candy store… Wow, it’s like it was made for smuggling sweets for students.”
“Knowing wizards, it very well might have been. Come on.”
So saying, I climbed into the chute and let the slide ferry me down. It was an unexpectedly smooth ride. I would have guessed that the magic of the castle itself was to blame, but I remembered the slide leading to the Chamber of Secrets wasn’t nearly so clean. I wondered if the house elves maintained it because they knew the Weasley twins used it so often.
The three of us spent about an hour walking to Honeyduke’s. The twins were curious about my meeting with Sirius but knew better than to pry. They said they’d tagged along for the novelty, but it was pretty clear to even Violet that they were here to support her.
I smiled as they walked ahead, talking Violet’s ear off about this or that. They were good kids.
X
Hogsmeade, Great Britain
We met up in a private room in the Three Broomsticks. Sirius was there already, with the table set for three. I and the twins stood back slightly so Violet could make the introductions. It was interesting, seeing her interact with her godfather.
Because of her aunt and uncle, she didn’t trust authority figures much, but I could tell she really wanted to trust Sirius. The man had spent over a decade in prison for her family. If anyone deserved a bit of grace, it was him.
The conflicting urge to pull away and to give in to the familial affection warred on her face. It all manifested as an awkward hug that and a wide-eyed look of sheer “What the fuck do I do?” as he kissed her forehead.
I didn’t bother suppressing my giggles. She had that adorable, pleading expression, as if she was being eaten alive. The poor girl really didn’t handle affection well.
Prickly, she could do. Genuine, heartfelt love from her extended family? Now, that was a struggle worthy of the Chosen One.
“Don’t laugh, you prat,” Padma hissed as she elbowed my side.
“Why not? What are friends for if not to laugh at your insecurities?” I asked with an unapologetic grin. “I’m told it builds character.”
“Hear, hear,” Sirius said as he released his goddaughter. “Are you going to introduce me to your friends, Violet?”
“The twin in red is Parvati. Blue is Padma,” Violet said, pulling her friends forward.
“Hello, Lord Black,” the twins chorused. They bowed, not quite formally, but with clear respect so as to not offend.
Sirius recoiled as if he’d smelled something foul. “Oh, Merlin, no. No bowing. I get enough of that garbage at the ministry. Just call me Sirius, or Padfoot. That was my nickname back in my Hogwarts days.”
“Yeah, he’s allergic to responsibility,” Violet chimed in before waving towards me. “Anyway, that’s Blaise, the guy I wanted you to meet.”
Sirius was still smiling, but his eyes widened when he heard my name. I wondered what he’d been told about me. Violent and Dumbledore probably had similar, if slightly varying accounts of exactly what I’d done.
Then, he pretended to wipe a tear from the corner of his eye as he pulled Violet into another hug. “Ah, so you’re the one she keeps talking about. I’m so proud, in her first year and she’s already bringing a boy home.”
“Sirius! Be ser–”
“Hmm?”
“No, I’m not finishing that. The pun is stupid and you should feel bad.”
“Aww, but it’s such a good joke.”
“It’s old and stale and doesn’t know when to quit. Like you.”
“Urk,” he groaned, holding his heart in faux pain. “Ah, they say it’s those you love who hurt you must.”
“Whatever,” she replied, eyes rolling like only a teenage girl could. It made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Clearly, they got along fine and I worried for nothing. “Right, we should probably get this over with. Parv, Pad, can I ask you two to leave? Just for a little bit? It’s not that I don’t want you here, but…”
Padma grabbed her twin by the elbow and tugged her towards the door. “We get it. It’s family business.”
“Hey, but why does Blaise get to stay?” Parvati pouted, still allowing herself to be herded out.
“He probably saw something in his tea leaves or whatever. Come on, sis.”
“Sorry, kids, I’m afraid this one’s House Black business,” Sirius said with an apologetic smile. He handed them a handful of galleons. “Lunch is on me. We’ll catch up in a little bit, I promise.”
The girls tried to refuse but he wouldn’t hear of it. Violet’s friends deserved to be a bit spoiled, or so he said.
Soon, we were left alone. I studied the ex-con. Sirius Black, now in his mid-thirties, was a handsome man. The medical treatments had clearly done wonders for him. Even after over a decade in Azkaban, he had a certain, roguish charm that belonged in adventure novels.
The ex-con’s demeanor shifted. Still friendly, still warm, but he held himself with the poise of a man who’d been raised to command a room. Gone was the doting godfather who made jokes at his own expense, replaced by the lord of an ancient, noble house.
Contrary to his earlier words, Lord Black placed his right hand over his heart and bowed at the waist. It was formal, a rigid expression that probably came with hours-long lessons and exacting geometry. The bow was shallow, I was still his social inferior by several notches, but the fact that he was bothering with this display at all said plenty.
“Mr. Zabini, House Black is in your debt,” he spoke with practiced cadence. I could almost ignore how uncomfortable this formality made him. “Please accept my grave and cordial gratitude for the great kindness you have shown me.”
I bowed in turn, making sure to do so precisely as deeply as he did. “It was my pleasure to assist, Lord Black.”
Violet looked between us with an annoyed sigh. “This is one of those noble nonsense things, isn’t it?”
“Pureblood nonsense,” I corrected absently. “I’m not a noble; I work for a living.”
“If by ‘work,’ you mean ‘say something cryptic, make everyone else panic, then pretend to stroke the beard you don’t have as you watch people run around like headless chickens for your amusement,’ then sure.”
“Exactly, now you get it. Anyway, we can drop the formalities, Sirius. I’m not that kind of Slytherin.”
“Lovely. Violet said as much, but some rituals have to be observed, you know,” he said as he slumped into his chair with an exaggerated sigh. “Come, sit, sit. Have lunch with me. The least I can do is buy you lunch and hear you out.”
“If you don’t mind, can you cast some privacy charms around us? Not that I distrust Madam Rosmerta, but there is no reason not to be doubly sure.”
“Fine, allow me.”
I eyed his protections with my Sight active. It was an impressive web of magic that covered this room in silencing charms. Figured that he’d know his way around privacy wards, though whether that was because he was a Black or because he was a Marauder was up in the air.
He eyed the teacup in front of him and pulled out a flask before pouring a hefty portion into his cup. Stirring, he drained it with a sigh of relief. Day drinking probably wasn’t a good habit, but I figured he’d earned the right to spoil himself.
Violet and I took our seats as well. Lunch was a simple affair of finger foods, mostly tea, assorted sandwiches, pickles, and potato crisps. There was also a treacle tart. The spread must have been set out with students in mind, with foods that he figured Violet would appreciate.
As we ate, I regaled the two with the full story. Or at least, the story I’d told Dumbledore: I played wizard’s chess at the Hogwarts chess club. Ronald Weasley was the only first year who could give me a challenge so we played often. As we got to talking, I learned about his decade-old rat and thought it was strange, putting me on the trail of Pettigrew.
When I began digging, I learned too much too quickly. Before I knew it, I'd uncovered the story of that fateful night. From there, I drugged the rat with a rat tonic laced with the draught of living death. I had a house elf take the “dead” rat, ostensibly to feed Minerva. I then bribed Hedwig to deliver the rat to Dumbledore.
This was the work of months of planning and foresight, which was one of several reasons I was so tired last semester. It was a story crafted to provide a series of improbable, but still possible, connections. Neat. Self-contained. No need to ask about what else I might know.
Sirius barely touched his lunch, captivated by what I had to say. “That’s quite the story. I guess there’s something to those divination classes, after all.”
“I am both blessed and cursed to have the Sight, that’s all. It was as much luck as personal effort,” I demurred.
“Right. Let’s get to it, if you don’t mind.You’ve helped me a great deal, but I’m not naive enough to believe it was purely out of altruism. Why did you ask to meet with me?”
“Violet is a good friend, Sirius. That really is the primary reason I chose to act.”
“I believe she’s your friend. I also went to school with your mother. Friendship and self-interest aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“Sirius,” Violet cut in.
“Yes, I know, very mean of me,” he said, waving her down. “But you know who you remind me of, Blaise? My family. All those calculating, manipulative types who’d do anything so long as it benefited them.”
I met his accusatory gaze with practiced calm. I should’ve known that dealing with someone who went to school with mom wouldn’t be easy. She had a reputation even back then. Of course, she hadn’t been “Zabini” then, but that mattered little when she’d so gleefully added to it since.
Truthfully, I couldn’t even say he was wrong. I was manipulative. I was calculating. It came with the territory of having foreknowledge and the willingness to use it. Frankly, with the war on the horizon, I couldn’t afford to be otherwise.
I’d told Violet as much: Relationships were resources. Everyone used each other. “Friend” was just the word given to those you didn’t mind being used by.
But at the same time, this wouldn’t convince Sirius. He’d find that kind of worldview revolting.
“I am not my mother,” I began, “but you’re right. I did learn a great deal from her.”
“Of course you did. So, fine, out with it. House Black owes you a debt. What’s it going to cost me?”
“There are several things I want from you, Sirius, but I’d prefer if you didn’t think of it as a bill to be paid. Everything I ask of you, I do so for Violet’s sake.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I don’t, but the truth remains. So, allow me to be candid: Violet is the Chosen One, the Child of Prophecy. There are things you can do to make her life easier. I am here now to ensure that you do so, even if it means leveraging a great debt to force your hand.”
He sighed. “Alright, fine. You win. I can hardly say anything else when your visions are what got me out of Azkaban. Lay it on me, kid.”
“Okay, for starters, I want an enchanted sword of goblin silver and a vial of basilisk venom,” I said, handing my cane over to him so he could examine it. “I'd prefer it if you can get this converted to store a hidden blade.”
After some research into the matter, I came to the conclusion that I was overcomplicating things for myself. High-end enchanters and smiths had extensive waiting lists. Goblins did not part with their fabled metal easily. And the less said about the accessibility of basilisk venom, the better. For that, I’d actually need black market contacts, or be suicidal enough to try extracting it myself.
So, seeing how I enjoyed breathing and lacked Violet’s bullshit plot armor, I figured why try to source everything myself? And since I didn't want to put up my thermos of unicorn blood as collateral, this was the obvious option.
All those roadblocks were for plebians, the “merely wealthy” crowd like me and mother. With Lord Black’s backing, such obstacles would evaporate like morning dew. Besides, it was an old business trick to ask for a comparatively small favor before demanding something more difficult.
Sirius stared at me, mouth half open like a goldfish. Whatever he expected, this wasn't it. He probably thought I’d demand a new broomstick. If Harry’s Firebolt could be compared to a racecar, this was the equivalent of a muggle schoolboy asking for medical syringes, needles, and lethal doses of anthrax. One was an exorbitant waste of money; the other was a murder charge in the making.
“Do you have any idea what you're asking?” he demanded. I was mildly impressed. He did have a responsible side, after all.
“Of course. I have the funds, but I lack the clout of Lord Black. I'm happy to pay for the materials if you streamline the process,” I nodded.
“Goblin steel. Basilisk venom. These aren't things you just find in a market. Hell, goblins don't sell at all. They have a very different understanding of ‘personal property’ than everyone else.”
“They rent for a lifetime, then consider the property theirs again as the ‘person’ has expired. I'm aware. That's my problem to deal with decades down the line. I hope for the day that is my only problem.”
He hefted the cane in his hand and eyed the snarling cobra with distaste. “Do you even know how to use a sword?”
“He does,” Violet said in my place. At my confusion, she continued, “Daphne, sorry Heiress Greengrass, told me you got into a fencing match with Peeves. Apparently, he’s eager to play that game again.”
I shrugged and took a bite of my sandwich. “Huh, I didn't know you still kept in touch.”
“Not really, just once in a while in class. More importantly, I get why you shouldn't have basilisk venom, but what's the deal with goblin silver?”
“It absorbs the properties of whatever it is exposed to.”
“Like basilisk venom.”
“Yes, exactly–” I ducked, avoiding Violet's slap to the back of my neck. “Can you not?”
“Blaise, what the hell? Why do you want a poisoned sword? No, better question: For who do you want a poisoned sword?”
“No one. I swear that I have no plans to stab anyone with a sword of basilisk venom,” I said, hands raised in surrender. And, I didn’t, so long as I didn’t consider horcruxes “people.”
“Really? Then why do you want it? It’s serious stuff.” She said, mean-mugging me. She turned to her godfather hesitantly. “Basilisk venom is serious stuff, right? It sounds serious.”
Sirius snorted, and didn’t even bother with the pun. “It is, pup. It’s just about the most toxic substance out there.”
“I need to use it to destroy a cursed object of immense power and durability.”
Violet stared at me. “Hmm….”
I met her gaze steadily. Really, I’d been entirely honest thus far. It was just like these two to make helping them so damn difficult.
Well, that, and I admittedly wanted the sword. It could eat through a horcrux layered with Voldemort’s best protections. By extension, it should have no trouble cutting spells out of the air, perfect for a “spellblade.” Plus, I was getting quite good at casting with my offhand.
“I believe you,” she declared finally. I had no idea what she saw in my face, but she nodded solemnly as if she’d received some divine revelation. “You’re a good person and you’d never hurt me with it.”
“Never,” I swore, taking her hand in mine. “I did say everything I’m asking for is at least partially for your sake, didn’t I?”
“Okay, fine, you can have your fancy sword,” Sirius said with a huff. “Merlin knows I’m a terrible judge of character. Violet can give it a go.”
And there was the Sirius Black I’d expected. That sounded hilariously irresponsible. He probably had a great deal of lingering self-esteem issues regarding his suggestion to appoint Peter as secret keeper. I’d be surprised if a man like that trusted his own judgment.
Still, it worked in my favor this time so I didn’t call him on it. I bowed respectfully. “Thank you, Sirius. You won’t regret this. I’ll leave my cane with you today, then.”
“Yeah, yeah. What’s the other thing?”
Now came the hard part. “I need the Black family vault. At least all the gold.”
“Really, and here I thought it’d be something simple,” he said flatly. “Bloody hell, kid. Why can’t you ask for a racing broom like every normal kid?”
“I’m scared of heights because when I was younger, I grew up with a paranoid fear that my mother would eventually tire of me and kill me off by making me fall from my broom. It would have been the perfect accident.”
“I… Huh…”
“What? You asked. I do plan on being honest today. Did you think you were the only one with childhood trauma?”
“No, I… guess I didn’t think about it. That still doesn’t mean I’m ready to sign over my family wealth. It’s just about the only useful thing about being a Black, you know.”
Violet placed a hand on my shoulder. She gave me a calm, patient smile, which was just about the most unnerving thing she could have done. “Blaise? I’m trying very hard not to stab you with a fork right now. Why do you want my godfather’s money?”
That was when I decided to lean into the ridiculousness. After all, what did I have to lose? “Why? I want to give it to Lucius Malfoy, of course.”
Unsurprisingly, they didn’t take that well.
Author’s Note
Long chapter, but I wanted to get this over with.
Remember, Blaise can’t directly scry the horcrux any more than he was able to scry the philosopher’s stone. If finding the horcruxes was so simple, Dumbledore would have done it. He remembers where they are from canon, but hasn’t realized yet that the diary has been moved.
Animal Fact(?): Giraffes have purple tongues. We don’t really know why, but one hypothesis says that the increased melanin keeps their tongues from getting sunburned while eating.
That sounds ridiculous, right? Well, remember that a giraffe’s tongue is around twenty inches long, and prehensile. It’s not just something that’s in their mouths most of the time. For them, it’s an appendage in its own right, used to grab and pluck leaves from treetops.
Oh, and they live in Satan’s asscrack. That probably plays a role, too.