Chapter 18: Hogsmeade

Blaise Zabini

Hogwarts, Great Britain

Professor Sinistra had asked me over the last astronomy class to turn in my worksheets in the morning. I'd thought nothing of it but now I knew that it was because she had plans in Hogsmeade. Judging by the deep, violet lipstick and pearl necklace that stood out against her dusky skin, I could only assume she had a lunch date and didn't want to bother hosting class just for one student.

Understandable. At this point, I'd thoroughly proven my ability to retain information. She treated my Sunday astronomy lessons almost like a kickback, inasmuch as a grown woman could hang out with a fourteen year old. She collected my homework, asked me a handful of questions about the assignment to check I'd paid attention, asked if I had any questions for her, and used my answers as a jumping off point to go on a lecture about whatever struck her fancy.

I was of two minds on the matter. On one hand, she could be rather verbose. I now knew why her second cat had been named Orpheus, despite his god-awful caterwauling. Funny story, if utterly useless trivia about her teenage years.

On the other hand, the woman really knew her subject. When she wasn't constrained by class sizes and the textbook, she happily imparted the secrets of the stars to me. How the positions of the rings of Saturn affected arithmancy calculations in rituals, the advantages and disadvantages of the Chinese model of dividing the lunar cycle into twenty-eight phases, the intricate ways Jupiter's moons influenced some obscure magical plant, I knew them all.

Well, no I didn't. Most of what she rambled about went over my head. I lacked the education in arithmancy and other subjects to fully appreciate the woman's depth of knowledge. Sometimes, it was all I could do to scribble down a few hastily written notes so I could research a topic on my own. And yet, there was no denying that this one on one instruction was incredibly valuable.

So when she took my homework and dismissed me before breakfast, I was mildly conflicted about my newfound free time. I still didn't think Hogsmeade was anything special, but… but perhaps a day trip wouldn't be so bad? I was several days ahead of my classwork and had some free time. Nor could I force myself to exercise again; I'd pushed myself a bit further than I ought yesterday and was still sore.

Thusly decided, I began to walk over to the thestrals. Many of the carriages had gone already but there were several awaiting any bored students.

X

Heath Parkinson was the last person I expected to be spending my Sunday with. I wasn't even sure how it happened. One moment, I was getting off the carriage in Hogsmeade. The next, Heath grabbed me by the arm and tugged me along like a stuffed animal.

He didn't trigger my passive Sight, I wasn't in any danger, but nor could I break away. He was half a head taller than me and had naturally broad shoulders that let him wrap an arm around my scrawny frame with ease.

I sighed and resigned myself to this kidnapping. "Parkinson. Good morning to you as well."

"Hey, Zabini, buddy, mind if we hang out for a bit?"

Seeing how I wasn't actually being given an option and I didn't have anything specific planned, I opted not to kick him in the shins. Instead, I decided to fuck with him, just a bit, and pointed him towards The Magic Neep. "Eh, you know what? Fine. That way, please."

"There? What do you want from there?"

"You should always tip your drivers, Parkinson. It's the polite thing to do."

"With what? Produce?"

I ignored him and strolled inside the store. It was Hogsmeade's equivalent of Tesco, a grocery store filled with the essentials. Being located in a small village, The Magic Neep placed a bigger emphasis on fresh produce and farm-raised animals than the supermarket giant, but that was a plus in my book.

I walked up to the butcher with a friendly smile. His setup looked more or less mundane; the only signs of magic were a levitating scale and a magic brush that cleared away all the meat scraps, leaving a pristine work surface. There had to be spells for cutting uniform meat, or at least something he could repurpose, yet here he was, using a normal cleaver.

I put the thought out of my mind. Perhaps he just enjoyed the profession or lacked the fine control necessary to use cutting curses in this manner. "Hello, sir, mind giving me four pounds of top round? I'd like them cut into long strips, about an inch wide should do."

The butcher, a big-boned, potbellied fellow with a handlebar mustache, looked at me like a strange new animal. Then again, Hogwarts students didn't exactly need to go grocery shopping. "Eh? Top round? You know this ain't cooked, right?"

"Of course. Raw is good."

"Seriously, what are we doing here?" Heath asked.

"I told you, tipping our drivers."

"The carriage isn't pulled by anyone."

"Then I suppose I'm tipping no one."

The butcher decided he'd best get rid of me as fast as was polite and cut off a nice, fat chunk of beef. "Alright, strips, eh? You sure you don't want 'em cubed? Better for stews that way."

"It's not for stew. Nice, long strips," I said with a happy grin.

"Right, here you go, lad. That'll be twenty-four knuts, eight per pound."

"Thank you, sir. You have a nice day now."

I hummed and left the store with a jaunty wave of my pimp cane. Was I the strangest Slytherin these folks had ever seen? Probably. The bewildered look on Heath's face as he followed me out like a confused puppy just added to the image.

Then, back at the carriage, I tossed him my cane and rolled up my sleeves. Pulling out a strip of meat from the bag, I clicked my tongue. "Come here, yeah, you guys. You deserve a snack don't you? You're so unappreciated."

"Zabini, who in Merlin's beard are you talking to?" Heath demanded. He was getting frustrated now, which made his square nose scrunch up in a way that reminded me of a pug.

"I told you, Parkinson. I'm tipping our drivers."

"There's nothing the-" Then, the first thestral took a bite of my meat. Despite their vaguely equine appearance, they were carnivores, with the razor-sharp fangs that implied. Heath saw the strip of top round get shredded before being slurped up into thin air like spaghetti. "What the hell was that?"

"That was one of our drivers," I said dryly. Cool as a cucumber, I pulled out another strip and began feeding a second thestral. I'd have to apologize to Luna next year for stealing her schtick but this was too fun. "You didn't think the carriages drove themselves, did you?"

"I thought they were animated…"

"Nope. I'm sure someone like Professor Flitwick could if they wanted to, but that's not the case. They're driven by thestrals."

"What're those?"

"Invisible carnivores that look like a mix between a skeletal horse and a dragon. They have big, leathery bat wings, fangs, and a draconic tail."

"And you can see them? Bloody seers."

"Hah, I can see them, but that has nothing to do with the Sight."

"What? How then?"

I waved him over and placed a strip of meat in his hand. "Go on, hold it out. They don't-Okay, they definitely bite, but they're not assholes about it unless you go out of your way to mess with them. They're quite gentle, really."

"Woah…" Heath gasped as the thestral I'd pointed him at made his meat disappear. "How do you get to see one?"

"Thestrals are visible only to those who have seen death," I said with deadly seriousness. I looked down at my cane he'd been holding and then up at him. I lowered my voice until it was barely above a whisper. "Do you know what that means?"

And just like that, the magical wonder was gone, replaced by a stark reminder of just why I used that cane. Despite having half a head on me, he gulped nervously. "I-Yeah, I-I think I do…"

I clapped my hands and plastered on a wide, shit-eating grin. I took back my cane and twirled it in the air like a marching band's color guard. "Excellent! They're fascinating creatures, aren't they? As gentle as unicorns, you know."

"R-Right…"

"Well? Come along, Parkinson. You're the one who wanted to chat, eh? Now that we've tipped our quiet drivers, let's hit the town."

With that, I walked away, humming the chorus of "Uptown Funk."

X

Heath Parkinson

Blaise Zabini was a scary bloke.

I followed behind him, still not sure how I ought to take that. I wasn't even sure what that was. Things went from weird, to cool, to terrifying, and then right back to weird all over again. And he acted like that crazy whiplash didn't just happen as he hummed along to a song I definitely didn't recognize.

He didn't used to be like this. He used to be a smarmy prick, with that quiet, self-satisfied smirk on his face whenever we met up at events and whatnot. Now, he still had that, but there was something more, something deeper that I didn't know how to describe.

I still didn't know exactly what happened over the summer, but I knew that someone died. His aunt or cousin or something. I hadn't been paying attention when I heard but now I wished I had. Dad said that Zabini might have been the one to kill her, which made the whole thestral thing even scarier.

I was having second thoughts about this. Zabini was one scary bloke, not the kind who could beat me up but the kind that dad said I should be wary of, the kind who knew stuff.

"Now, where should we go?" he asked, his cane tapping on the cobblestones impatiently. "You wanted to talk, right?"

"Ah, yeah, sorry, mate," I stammered. I'd been spacing out, too caught up in Zabini's Zabini-ness. There was nothing for it but to continue. Dangerous people were good to have as friends, right? Right. Dad said so. "Let's walk and talk."

"Sure, Parkinson. Well?"

"So… There's a girl…"

"Malfoy. Yes, we all know you'd wank it to her used socks if she'd let you."

I felt my face heat up at the thought. "I wouldn't…"

"Hey, no judgment. She's gorgeous," he said idly.

"Y-You don't fancy her, do you?" I asked, a pit forming in my stomach. Zabini was… better than me…

Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

His mum was one fine bird and he'd inherited every bit of her good looks, with a handsome face, high cheekbones, and a delicate nose that made me jealous. He looked like the perfect pureblood gentleman. He was slim and elegant, a little like Lord Malfoy. He kept his hair wavy and messy, but even that served to make him more roguish instead of just sloppy.

Hell, he was even magically powerful. I'd never seen him fail to figure out a spell by the end of class, never mind being the only true seer in our generation. If he liked Lyra, then…

"Hahaha!" he doubled over laughing. "Her? Hahaha!"

His laughter was reassuring. And I wanted to punch him. And he still fucking terrified me. How was someone my age so complicated?

He caught his breath and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Parkinson, Heath, she's all yours, mate. But I have to ask: Why? Why her? She's pretty, sure, but there are plenty of pretty faces."

That was true. Magical beautifying products were common, even I knew that. They were so popular that entire house fortunes had been founded on them. Given how much money some families had, a lot of purebloods looked more or less the way they wanted to.

"I know, but she's Lyra Malfoy," I said.

"As if that explains anything."

"It does," I insisted. "She's just so… Have you seen her?"

"Everyday. I find her quite dull, actually," he drawled. At my glare, he held his hands up in mock surrender. "Fine, fine, I won't question it. So? What about her?"

"How do I get her to like me?"

We turned into Dervish & Banges at the end of High Street. It was an old shop that sold wizarding equipment, toy broomsticks and the like.

"In here," Zabini said.

"What do you want here? If you're looking for toys, Zonko's has better stuff."

"They do, but it's been a while since I've been here."

Shrugging, I followed him inside. The store boasted floor-to-ceiling shelves, each filled to bursting with knick knacks of all kinds. I saw toy broomsticks, stuffed plushies with animation charms cast on them, mirrors that critiqued your outfit, music boxes that sang songs in different composition styles, and similar.

Nothing here was especially useful, not like the magic ring Lord Malfoy gifted his daughter. That one protected her against virtually every known poison, muggle or magical. Real enchantments, the sort that could be life-changing, weren't found here.

Zabini knew that. There was no bloody way he didn't. And yet, here he was, wandering through the aisles like some kind of mudblood. Was he trying to tell me something?

"What are you looking for?" I ventured.

"Anything that catches my eye." He picked up a sneakoscope and fiddled with it for a moment. It looked like a glass, spinning top. "Lights up, whistles, and spins when someone untrustworthy is nearby…"

"You want one of those?"

"No, of course not. We're Slytherins. It would never shut up if I took it to the dorms," he said with a wry smile.

"Heh, yeah, I guess that's true. But what if you hid it somewhere? It'd annoy the pants off everyone in the common room until someone found the damn thing."

"True, but I don't want to piss off the upper years just for a laugh."

"Guess you're right. They'll make us pay for that for sure." I looked around, more out of boredom than interest. Then, just as Zabini's hand glided past a flower pot, I spotted a gold chain that had been pooled haphazardly at the bottom of the empty pot. I drew it out and smiled when I saw the music note-shaped pendant attached.

Did… Did he do that on purpose? I examined it more closely. It was real gold, though I wasn't posh enough to tell the exact purity. Pretty high quality craftsmanship, too. "Zabini, look, think Lyra will like this?"

"A song for Lyra, eh? Sure, why not? It's pretty enough. Let me see it for a second?" I handed it over. He focused for a moment, then stroked the pendant. A simple melody filled the store, soft and pure.

"Can't you tell me for real?"

"Nope. I don't have my crystal ball on me. And even if I did, I'd need something personal from her to scry her in any detail."

"Come on, can't you help a bloke out?"

"Unfortunately, no. There isn't much I can do to make her like you, or anyone else for that matter. I see things; I don't change reality."

"What's that mean?"

"It means she's quite happy with her own reflection, Parkinson," he said. He picked up a deck of cards. "Hmm, I think I'll take this."

"What is it?"

"Tarots. They're used by both wizards and muggles in divination, though obviously one has a lot more success with it than the other."

"Right. C-Can you read my future?"

"If by 'future,' you mean your chances with Malfoy, no. Tarots seldom tell the future as you'd like it. Rather, they can be likened to mirrors that show a person's reflection. They reveal facets of you, past, present, and yes, occasionally future. Think more in line with personality, strengths, and shortcomings rather than 'You will do such and such,'" he lectured as he paid for the deck.

"Well, how can I get Lyra to pay attention to me then?"

We walked out of Dervish & Banges and headed across the street to J Pippin's Potions. "You can try to become the kind of man Malfoy likes."

"And what kind is that?"

"I don't rightly know because I have no interest in her. Look, Parkinson, people change for those they love. That's natural and it will happen, probably without you noticing. The question is whether or not that change is worthwhile. Some relationships are too costly, too expensive, to keep."

I followed him into the store. I didn't want to let this go yet. He was the guy everyone was talking about. Nott liked to think he was the best bloke in our year, but everyone could see how the chips were falling. I wanted his help no matter what.

He browsed each potion with barely a glance. He probably knew exactly what he wanted. It made me jealous. What was it like, never doubting yourself?

"Are you saying Lyra and I can't work together?" I asked him more directly. "I can get her to like me, right?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying. I don't know what Malfoy wants in a lover. What I do know is that you will try to change for her. I'm telling you to keep in mind who you want to be, that's all."

"Gee, thanks…"

We explored the shop in silence. The store's inventory was unexpectedly good, I even saw a few of the rarer potions like wolfsbane. That made my mouth curl in distaste. Werewolves weren't banned from magical society, but they ought to be.

Then, a vial of pink liquid caught my eye.

"Hoh? Have an eye on someone, do ya?" said the proprietor, presumably Pippin. "That there's a love potion. Not amortentia, but just about the next best thing."

I was tempted. If I could make Lyra drink this, she'd finally give me the time of day. I reached out and picked up the vial to examine it closer. It was such a lovely pink.

"Don't take that," Zabini said, snatching it out of my hand and putting it back on the shelf.

"What? Why not?"

"Take it from a seer: Choice is the most precious thing a person has, Parkinson."

"It's not permanent…" I mumbled. Sure, the infatuation wouldn't last, but maybe I could convince her to give me a shot…

"Oh? And what will she think of you when the potion wears off? Or, have you forgotten her ring? I suspect this exact reason is why Lord Malfoy splurged on that gift for her."

I sighed and let him pull me away. It was a shame but Zabini was right, as usual. I doubted a potion like this would fool Lyra's ring. And, and she'd be bloody pissed even if it did work. The thought of what Lord Malfoy might do to me if he found out made me shiver.

I watched as Zabini purchased a brown tincture I didn't recognize and followed him out the store.

X

Blaise Zabini

Fucking moron. Heath Parkinson was a fucking moron. I wanted to slam my cane upside his head; it wasn't like he'd miss anything up there.

I'd forgotten JKR's ridiculous notion of "love potions." Maybe it was my modern sensibilities, but they were more akin to date-rape drugs in my book. Shit like that made their rounds around the colleges I'd worked in, and we admins took it seriously every time. Even if nothing physical happened, I meant what I'd said: Choice, free will, was the single most valuable thing a person had.

Perhaps free will was an illusion, the hand-written letter I'd received from Fate certainly hinted at a broader destiny, but it was all the more precious because of it. The thought that any entity less than a cosmic force would deprive another of that choice, and for some cheap thrills, made my blood boil.

I steadied my breathing and palmed the rat tonic I'd purchased. It was meant to improve the health of rodent familiars. I'd gotten what I wanted, along with a reminder that morality in the wizarding world could be best described as… flexible.

Perhaps I ought to have allowed Parkinson to make the mistake. Perhaps he'd deserve whatever Lucius Malfoy did to him.

I sighed. Too late now; I'd acted without thinking.

I was about to head back to the castle, but a commotion caught my attention. Health hurried along after me.

When we arrived, we saw some of my housemates squaring off against the badgers. I spotted Theo, Vincent, and Gregory, wands trained on Zacharias Smith, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Wayne Hopkins, and Kevin Entwhistle.

I looked at them and felt tired. Already, I could guess what happened.

What was it about today? It was like everyone in my house suddenly felt that today was the day to demonstrate their stupidity to me. First Heath, and now suddenly these three morons. Did the boys think it'd be a good idea to confront four puffs outnumbered? Or in the middle of the street?

How very Slytherin of them.

I was reminded once again how young they were. Cunning, they said. Clever, they said. It was all bullshit. We weren't either of those things because we didn't have the mental maturity to grow into any of those things. As far as I could tell, the hat sorted by the traits we admired, not necessarily the traits we possessed.

I wished things were otherwise, but as it turned out, fourteen year olds weren't much better than eleven year olds. Sure, they were more mature, but they were also more temperamental, or maybe "hormonal" was a better word.

Now I needed to think about how I wanted to play this. Did I let the boys have their scrap? They might learn an important life lesson. Did I join in and beat on the puffs? We outnumbered them if I joined.

Or, I could just walk away, that was always an option. I could act like it wasn't my problem, because it wasn't. I had no obligation to engage in a schoolyard scuffle just because some morons I unfortunately had to associate with dove head in.

Before I could decide, Heath, like the loyal fucking leming he was, moved to stand by our housemates.

"There're five of us. What now, Smith?" Theo taunted. "Can you duffers count that high?"

I let out a sigh of utter disappointment. Hogwarts may have been a magical school, but it was a school, with all the pointless posturing that implied. "Four. Leave me out of this, Nott. I'm not getting involved in your squabbles."

"Bloody coward is what you are, Zabini."

"No, I'm neutral, and that means not taking sides when you idiots do stupid shit. How'd this start anyway?"

"The duffers are getting mouthy, that's how."

"Like hell, Nott," Zacharias said. "You're the ones who called Kevin and Justin mudbloods. Don't act like you didn't start this."

"What's wrong with calling a dog a dog? They've been here long enough; it's time they learn where they stand in polite society. Specifically, away from it."

"Never mind, I decided I don't give a damn," I cut in before they could start arguing again. I spun my cane and made a show of leaning against the nearest wall. "But you know what? I could use a show. Go ahead, four on four; that seems fair. Duke it out, here and now."

Zach spat on the ground. "Sod off, Zabini. You think you're so special. You're the same as Nott."

"You think so? But here you are, still running your mouth. And here I am, letting you. Go on, weren't you going to fight? Defend your Hufflepuff pride?"

I didn't want this. I didn't enjoy being the bad guy, nor did I like acting like everyone was beneath me. And yet, I couldn't think of a better way to get them all to stand down.

I could join Theo and the rest of the bigoted imbeciles. It'd make them bold enough to start slinging more than mean words. We'd beat on the puffs, or maybe get stopped by a prefect when one inevitably showed up. Either way, I'd end up with a reputation as a bully and a bigot, something I was trying to avoid.

I could walk away. Theo would probably try to spin this as me being cowardly, maybe try to tarnish my reputation in the house. The worst case scenario was that he made me out to be a blood-traitor, a reputation that would be increasingly dangerous to have in Slytherin as the years passed.

Weighing my options, I chose… to do nothing.

I loved cartoons. It was why I could make references to obscure digimon or observe and interact with magic like the malleable tool it was. Beyond the Sight alone, I simply had a breadth of exposure to new ideas that no one in this age could match.

And one of my favorite characters was Bumi from Avatar, the Last Airbender. Not the titular avatar, or any of the main cast, but Bumi, the insane king of a city state who chose to do nothing as his home was conquered by an invading army.

In his iconic conversation with Aang, he talked about "jing." Or perhaps "posture" would be the better word. "Positive jing" for attacking, "negative jing" for defending, and "neutral jing" for those who wait for the right moment. My situation wasn't quite the same and I sure as shit couldn't grow rock candy at will, but the old fart wasn't wrong either.

I leaned back with a cocksure smirk, one I knew would infuriate both sides. I stared down each boy and silently dared them to throw the first spell.

The puffs weren't stupid. I was counting on at least one of them being able to take a step back and do some basic fucking math. There were four boys on both sides now, but they had no assurance that I wouldn't interfere if it looked like they would win. They had a natural suspicion of us snakes, which meant that was probably what they were expecting me to do.

The snakes were idiots, but they weren't exactly brave idiots. Theo wasn't the type to like even odds. He was the kid who had to have the best of everything, which naturally included the edge in any confrontation. I wouldn't call him a coward necessarily, but he wouldn't want to escalate to actual wandwork unless he was sure he could win, or at least come out looking good. And by now, he knew me well enough to know how few fucks I gave about his antics.

Not knowing how I'd act in the end, or if I'd act at all, both sides were paralyzed into a stalemate. I crossed my arms and raised a brow in an open challenge.

Sure enough, neither side could stand the awkward atmosphere and broke almost in tandem. Heath and Justin pulled at Theo and Zacharias respectively.

"Come on, they're not worth it," Justin said, shooting me suspicious glances.

"Forget about the mudbloods and the blood-traitors, Nott. Let's go," Heath urged.

I watched them shuffle away. They kept eyeing each other but I remained leaning against the wall.

Finally, I let out a tired sigh. "Ugh, what a shitty day…"

Author's Note

Part two of Fable losing bets...

Seriously, Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, Hog's Head… What's JKR's deal with pork anyway?

Zabini doesn't make threats. He introduces people to death-horses and lets them come to their own conclusions.

The thing about the beautifying products is sorta canon. Fleamont Potter, Harry's grandfather, made his fortune off the Sleekeazy's Hair Potion and Scalp Treatment. He even outsourced production to China.

Animal Fact: The black mamba is not black. It's gray or brown with a lighter underbelly. It gets its name from the black inside of its mouth, not its scales. It's considered to be a very territorial snake that will often choose to bite bigger animals rather than quietly slink away.

The black mamba is also the longest venomous snake in Africa, the longest specimen being over 14 feet long. If you thought "King cobras are longer," you'd be right (by 4 feet or so), but wrong as they're not native to Africa. King cobra are native to India and Southeast Asia.

Thank you for reading. To reach a wider audience, and because I enjoy a more forum-like setup to facilitate discussion, I like to crosspost to a wide variety of websites. You can find them all on my Link Tree: https://linktr.ee/fabled.webs.