Chapter 19: Black Thumb

Blaise Zabini

Hogwarts, Great Britain

The next morning, I stepped out into the common room after my Monday routine and noticed Gemma Farley waiting for me. She was lounging on one of the plush loveseats and motioned me over with a finger as I emerged.

The older girl wore her chestnut hair in a simple, high ponytail, something that stood out from the usual styles common in the house. A single lock of hair fell over her forehead artfully, a nice contrast from her otherwise immaculate uniform. The shiny prefect badge caught the light over her left breast as she set down the book she'd been reading.

"Good morning, Farley," I greeted with a suppressed yawn into my palm. "I thought you were done babysitting us firsties."

She rolled her eyes and stood. "I was. Let's walk and talk."

"Oh? Does a prefect require my services?"

"No, not really. I heard there was a bit of a spat in Hogsmeade."

"What of it? Nott, Goyle, Crabbe, and Parkinson were having a standoff with the puffs."

"I know. He's been going around saying how you watched and did nothing."

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying I should have jumped in to help them?"

"No, but I wanted to hear your side of the story. You're not an idiot, Zabini. At least, I don't think so. You didn't jump in. You also didn't come to get a prefect."

"House unity is only for when they're not doing something stupid. I have no obligation to support them when they're squaring up in the middle of the street like Gryffindors. As for getting a prefect, I had no idea where any of you were. If I left, they were likely to start slinging spells."

"So you stuck around to see if they'd be entertaining?"

I offered her a small smile. "Partially. I admit that would have been fun to watch, but I stuck around to keep either side from escalating. The puffs don't trust me so they'd all think I'd join in right away, right?"

"Mhmm. And Nott knows better by now. Don't look at me like that. Part of my job is keeping up to date with the little games my underclassmen are playing. I know you've been running circles around him all month."

"Right. He's an opportunist. He doesn't like even odds and the other boys took their cues from him. So neither side wanted to make the first move. And, if you keep them in a stalemate long enough, they start feeling awkward. You can only stroke your own ego and hype yourself up for so long before you realize you look like an idiot."

"Then they left because people hate awkward pauses," she finished for me. She pushed aside the doors of the great hall and ushered me in. "You let both sides save some face without escalating or requiring a prefect. Clever."

"Thanks."

"Or that's what you're saying now to justify your cowardice and indecision after the fact."

"If you say so," I replied with a shrug.

"Hmm, good. Don't get thrown off by people's words."

"I try not to, Farley."

"Good. I like you, Zabini. I think you'll go far."

"I am grateful for your vote of confidence."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll make sure nothing comes of this. Thanks for keeping an eye on them. Snape would have chewed us out if you firsties got into a fight that big in the middle of Hogsmeade," she said, waving me off to go sit with her friends.

X

I walked to herbology with a smile on my face and my cane twirling like a baton. It's been a few days since Madam Pomfrey gave me a clean bill of (physical) health, but the elation caused by the good news had not entirely faded. Without the idiocy of my housemates to bring down my mood, I was feeling quite well this morning.

A blast of warm, humid air hit me as I followed everyone inside. The greenhouse smelled like a combination of mulch and a dozen different herbs and flowers I couldn't begin to name. Most of them were probably safe, probably because the common sense of wizards was… questionable… at the best of times.

"Come in, come in," Professor Sprout said. She was as cheery as ever, with a wide, welcoming smile on her portly face. Her jovial expression soured noticeably when she saw me.

We didn't hate each other. On the contrary, I liked and respected her a great deal. She was a gentle, motherly figure who had a kind word to say about everyone. And, so long as we put in genuine effort, she never got mad at us students. She was a teacher who loved her subject with a passion and wanted to share that joy with the next generation.

I could respect that. As a person, Pomona Sprout was someone I would have been delighted to call a colleague in my past life, an educator and nurturer through and through. Unfortunately, my Black Thumb had other thoughts on the matter of the Hufflepuff head of house.

In my defense, the drawback seemed like such a minor thing when I filled out that CYOA. I of course didn't know I'd get isekai'd like a shitty fanfiction protagonist, but I'd filled it out in good faith. Compared to being bad at other, more practical fields, an utter ineptitude towards herbology seemed like a cheap price to pay for more points.

Little did I know, herbology was ubiquitous in the wizarding world. Entire family lines had built their fortunes on the cultivation of a handful of plants. Countless groundbreaking potions had been made using one obscure herb or another. And while not being good at gardening would be fine in the future, in the moment, it was a part of my life I absolutely, unconditionally failed at. My only saving grace in this class was my written work, perfect via deus ex Leontes.

It baffled Professor Sprout, how I could write perfect papers, know all the material, and still fail all but the most basic of practical exercises. So far in the year, I'd accidentally mixed mulch into the consistency of liquid cement, released every bouncing bulb simultaneously, and nearly turned the greenhouse into a literal powderkeg while trying to harvest puffapod spores. Just about the only thing I did right was… trimming hedges and putting soil into flower pots.

At this rate, I was worried I'd turn the devil's snare into a Japanese stereotype once we got to it. On the plus side, I was quite proficient with the incendio charm.

I shuffled next to Padma and gave her a pitiful look. Theo had started out as my herbology partner but had quickly retreated in favor of literally anyone else after I'd almost drowned him in a birdbath. On accident. I'd like to think I wouldn't have failed had I done it on purpose.

Padma snorted but made way for me. "You'd better not blow us up or something, Zabini."

"I doubt that'll happen, Patil," I said as I put down my schoolbag. The class often began with ten minutes or so of note taking as Professor Sprout went over what we'd be working with that day.

"I wouldn't be so sure, Mr. Zabini," Professor Sprout said with a fragile smile. "Today, we'll be working with dittany. Class, can anyone pick out the plant from my shelf? How about you, Miss Brocklehurst?"

A mousy girl with brown hair and freckles replied, "It's over there, beneath the puffapods, professor. It has very distinctive circular leaves."

"That's right, take two points for Ravenclaw. Dittany is among the most commonly used medicinal herbs. It is the primary ingredient in the wiggenweld potion, which can be used both to heal injuries and to reawaken those who are under magical slumber. However, the essence of dittany, oils extracted from these pretty, plump leaves, can be drunk by itself for a lesser healing effect. In fact, just the plant on its own can be consumed or applied via a topical paste for burns and abrasions.

"However, though it is a staple of magical society and commonly cultivated all over the world, dittany can be tricky for the beginning herbalist," she said, casting an anxious glance towards me. "Dittany persistently releases flammable vapors so there shall be no incendio in this greenhouse."

"Yes, professor," we chorused. I made sure to sound extra loud to be heard.

"We will be trimming the dead leaves and repotting them with fresh soil today. If you forgot your gardening gloves or hand shovels, you can get a spare from the bin over there."

Padma and I wore our gloves and picked up a small plant from the cart laden with them. Now knowing that these things were extra-flammable, she eyed the plant in my hand nervously. Then, grumbling, she plucked it from me.

The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"It's not going to explode because I happen to be holding it," I protested weakly.

"You never know. Seriously, how do you get perfect grades at everything else, but fail so completely at herbology?"

"I have an Acceptable in this class."

"Because you write well. If it was just the practicals, you'd have a Troll for sure," she sniffed.

"Yeah, yeah, please have mercy on this helpless loser, oh gracious one."

"You can start by filling two empty pots with fresh soil. I'll do the actual moving."

"That works. Thanks for being my partner, Patil," I said honestly.

"We're friends," she shrugged as if this was the natural thing to do. "Don't sweat it."

Maybe it was for her, but the comment reminded me that I had zero friends in this life. I was well into my fifties counting old-Blaise's memories. Flitwick was probably more my emotional equal than Padma, not that the teacher would take me seriously. It felt… a little lonely, honestly.

We worked quietly. Potting the plants didn't take too long and I didn't have any disastrous accidents. After that, I stood back and let Padma trim the plants.

From what we'd read, ambient magic could react with the plants we worked with in both positive and negative ways, kind of like potions ingredients. It was why we still used mundane gardening tools despite having perfectly serviceable wands. Something about my magic made plants wig out, made them excitable and wild.

For all I knew, getting in contact with the dittany plants would make them spew more of that flammable vapor. Something similar happened with the puffapods we worked with two weeks ago, which was how I'd ended up covered in their spores and dizzy like a drunkard.

"Say, Zabini?" Padma called as she carefully cut out a browning leaf.

"Hmm?"

"What do you do after classes?"

"How do I spend my time?"

"Yeah."

"I study, exercise, and occasionally answer a few commissions. I sometimes play chess at the chess club with Weasley or visit the art club when inspiration strikes. Oh, and I enjoy playing with my owl, Minerva. Why do you ask?"

"Well, we have a study group. I was wondering if you'd like to join in sometime."

"Maybe… When do you meet? And who's involved?"

"Monday, Wednesday, and Friday after class and Saturday after lunch at the library," she informed me. "We have people from all the houses now, well, you'd be the only Slytherin but you know what I mean."

I snorted. In many fanfictions, Daphne Greengrass was the token "not all Slytherins are bigots" Slytherin. I just realized that somehow, I'd become Violet's token Slytherin. "Maybe. I don't exactly need help with homework."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself. Parvati just wanted me to invite you when I saw you. You don't have to drop in all the time, just whenever you feel like hanging out."

"Sure, I'll show up at some point. How'd this start anyway?"

"I wanted to see my sister more often and Parvati's unexpectedly studious. I mean, she's not dumb, but she's never been as interested in academics as me. I think Violet's a good influence on her."

"Potter? I didn't take her for the bookish type." I had to remind myself that Harry wasn't, but that could have been due to Ron's influence in canon. He could be deeply focused and dedicated when he needed to be, such as when he practiced for months to learn the patronus.

"She's not, really. I mean, more than Parv, but that's not saying much. She'd rather be out flying than anything but she's been willing to put her nose to the grindstone when it matters."

"Perhaps she's as interested in seeing you as you are in seeing them," I pointed out. "Could it be that she sees studying as a way to spend more time with you? You are one of her first two friends here. It could be that you're the one who's a good influence on Potter."

"Maybe. Anyway, show up sometime, okay?"

"As you please."

"Violet says thanks, by the way."

"Hmm?"

"She loves quidditch."

"I had nothing to do with Malfoy's nonsense."

"You say that, but the rumor mill says she ignored a prediction from you."

"Which means that I wasn't responsible for Malfoy's actions."

Padma stared at me with narrowed eyes. "Oh? I believe this is an example of reverse psychology. Or, 'Zabini being a manipulative prat,' as Violet says. You goaded Malfoy into being her dumb self."

"You don't know that."

"I do, or you wouldn't have made that prediction at all. I don't know why you did, but Vi says thanks."

I sighed and gave her a subtle nod. The smarter Patil twin was unexpectedly clever, even for a Ravenclaw. "I didn't do it for her, but she's welcome anyway."

She nodded. Then, her eyes gained a cruel gleam. She suddenly stomped on my foot as hard as she could.

Or, she tried. I moved my foot out of the way just in time. A heavy thud echoed in the greenhouse as her heel met the paved ground.

"Ow! Fuck!" she swore. "You're not supposed to dodge, Zabini."

"I will if I don't know what I'm being punished for. Why do you suddenly feel the need to enact violence upon my person, Patil?"

"Longbottom, you jerk. You let him get hurt."

"I didn't. Again, I didn't know exactly what would happen," I said, lying through my teeth. "And you know that a broken wrist is about ten minutes of Madam Pomfrey's time, if that."

"Which is the only reason Vi hasn't jumped you herself. I convinced her that it wasn't a big deal."

"Patil, I see the future sometimes. But that doesn't mean I have an obligation or responsibility to care for the wellbeing of every student in the school," I told her patiently. "You are, once again, attributing far too much power to the Sight."

"I still want to hit you once," she grumbled.

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Because you're a smug prat and it'd make me feel better?" she asked with an innocent smile.

I knew better. I didn't trust that smile. As Parvati once said, her sister could be deceptively vindictive and she'd held a bit of a grudge ever since the Catnip Incident.

Really, it was always the quiet ones.

X

The defense classroom always had me on edge. Quirrell had yet to do anything of note; he was still pretending to be a stuttering imbecile, but he didn't need to. Voldemort's presence was enough to make me feel uneasy.

At first, I used to be worried about legilimency, even despite the CYOA's assurances, but my own research confirmed what I knew from canon: Very few practitioners could pull off a probe without a wand and eye contact was absolutely mandatory. As hidden and weakened as he was, that was one worry I put to rest.

"Runcorn, would you care to sit with me? I know you're good with charms and we have a practical session today," Daphne said with an innocent smile, probably an attempt to reach out to her more.

I shuffled past them to my seat. I did promise to help Daphne, but I had no interest in eavesdropping; I knew too much about the school's many cliques as it was.

I didn't know what was said but Alice took her customary seat at my table. Daphne had been making these little overtures towards Alice for weeks now, little gestures of friendship that would have flattered most people. For her part, Alice looked largely uncomfortable with it all.

Curious, I asked, "I thought you'd be sitting with Greengrass today."

"I decided against it, Zabini," she said. Her voice was as quiet as a dormouse.

"Can I ask why? Greengrass was trying to recruit you, you know."

"I'm aware; I'm not stupid."

"So why hesitate? Or are you holding out for something you want from her?"

"I'm not. Why are you interested anyway?" she asked suspiciously. "Since when does the great seer care about house politics?"

"That's true, I don't," I agreed, giving her a devious smile, "but I do care about what people want. Ambition is the defining trait of our house, no? And, ambition makes for the best sorts of customers. Anything I can help you with?"

"It's not that. I don't really want anything from her. I just don't like Davis."

"Because she's a half-blood?"

"My father has very strict opinions on propriety."

"So why not Malfoy then?" I probed. We had our notes out in front of us but we'd long since given up on trying to get anything useful from Quirrell's stuttering lectures. Instead, I slid my notes on the fumos charm across the table so she could copy it. "If you won't join Greengrass' little clique, that means you should join Malfoy's, no?"

She nodded gratefully. "I'd rather be neutral like you. I know I'm not the politically savvy type like you or Greengrass."

"I wouldn't say I'm particularly savvy either; I just happen to have certain advantages others don't."

"Either way, you know what I mean. Getting involved just isn't worth it," she said quietly. "The easiest way to avoid trouble is to simply not play the game."

"You know that's not really possible, right? I get away with it because I'm me."

"I know…"

I did say I'd help Daphne. And it did seem like much of Alice's hesitation came from Tracey's blood status, or rather, her father's possible reaction to said status. Unfortunately, I didn't know much about her father. Albert? Alfred? Something of that nature. I was pretty sure he wasn't the family head, which explained why old-Blaise didn't care to remember him.

On the plus side, that suggested that her distaste towards Tracey was fairly mild, which suggested that it was more something she parroted from her family rather than a deeply held sense of superiority.

"I think Davis is telling," I began.

"She wears her emotions on her sleeves," Alice replied with a light scowl. "She's dragging down her cousin and she doesn't even know it."

I thought back to my interactions with the two so far. "Oh, she knows, alright. But that isn't what I meant. I meant to say that Davis is a good benchmark for Greengrass' personality, even if Greengrass herself is very good at pretending to be a porcelain doll."

"Enlighten me with your wisdom, oh great oracle," she replied dryly.

I, in my infinite grace, chose to ignore the quiet girl's sass. "She cares for Davis a great deal. Whatever you think of Davis' intelligence, Greengrass at least knows exactly what having a half-blood attached to her at the hip is doing to her reputation in the house, yes?"

"She does. What's your point?"

"My point, Runcorn, is that Greengrass hasn't dropped Davis like a dungbomb despite Davis being exactly that. Instead, she's doubled down."

"So she's stubbornly loyal. Are you saying she should've been a puff?"

"No, she doesn't make friends nearly that easily to fit in there. All I'm saying is that Greengrass is the kind of person who will look after her own."

"So she is. You say you're not taking sides, but you seem awfully favorable towards her."

"I call it like I see it," I shrugged. I then leaned in a little closer. "Look, Runcorn. I like you. No, not like that. You've been a solid partner so I'm just sharing my observations, that's all."

"Malfoy is richer and more powerful. She can give me a lot more, especially where Lord Malfoy is concerned," she pointed out. "If I'm doomed to get caught up in their rivalry, shouldn't I join the winning side?"

"Maybe. But 'winning' is rather subjective. This is a school rivalry, Runcorn, not a matter of life and death."

"My point stands."

"It does. I'm not going to tell you what to do. In fact, I think we've talked about them long enough so I'll leave you with this: If I were forced to choose, I would side with the princess who would value me more."

"That's… a fair point. Thanks, Zabini." She looked at me with a teasing scowl. "You're not going to demand payment, are you?"

"No, no I am not," I chuckled. "Call it a favor for a friend."

Author's Note

Somnolent is oppressive. Divination is incredible. So why wouldn't Black Thumb be equally prevalent?

More house politics, yay!

Blaise is neutral like Americans don't think Taiwan is a real country. Which is to say, he pays lip service to the idea of neutrality, but he most certainly has his preferences.

Animal Fact: Barn owls are monogamous, as is typical of most owls. They can stay together for several years, or even their lives. However, if breeding is unsuccessful, they have a "divorce" rate of about 25%.

Comparatively, Americans have a first marriage divorce rate of 40-50% according to a 2022 report by the American Psychological Association.

Birds are more faithful than we are, which is why I am a very lonely spider.

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.