Chapter 21: Lion Meets Snake

Blaise Zabini

Hogwarts, Great Britain

I sat across from Ronald, a wizard’s chess set between us. The lanky ginger leaned forward for a better view, not that he needed it. It was a habit of his whenever he was deep in thought, along with a subconscious twiddling of the thumbs.

This was the second game tonight. Our games usually didn’t last this long, especially since I liked to move within a few seconds rather than ruminate pointlessly. I wasn’t interested in mastering different traps and maneuvers to perfection after all, merely nudging Ron away from some of his worse tendencies.

To that end, I’d been holding back progressively less. I used to use my power to predict his next move once every few turns but was now doing it a little more frequently. Not only did it prove to be an excellent way to train my Sight, it also gave the illusion that I was rapidly improving at the game.

Until, finally, “I believe that’s checkmate in two moves.”

“What? No way,” Ron protested.

“Look as hard as you want then.”

“Wait… No, that won’t… You’re bloody kidding me.”

“The board doesn’t lie, Weasley.”

“Fine, that’s still your first win to my…”

“Eight,” I told him honestly. “This is our fourth session and we’ve played a total of nine games. We’re eight to one in your favor right now.”

“Yeah, that. Don’t get cocky just because you won one,” he said.

I smirked internally but didn’t let it show. Ron was a competitive person. This was both a good and bad quality to have. On one hand, it had made him a jealous friend at times to Harry. On the other hand, he’d used that sense of inadequacy to push himself, becoming an indispensable asset in times of crisis.

I was intentionally stoking that competitive spirit knowing he’d come back looking for another contest. And, I was doing it through chess, in a way that forced him to acknowledge a “slimy snake” as a rival rather than just an enemy.

It was a crude attempt at exposure therapy, but it was working. Truth was, Ron’s dislike of Slytherins wasn’t anything personal, despite what he thought. It was an inherited bias derived from his family, most likely his brothers or Arthur complaining about Lucius, which, fair. And without a “Draco” Malfoy making things worse, he’d gotten much milder since our sessions began.

“One more?” I asked, tapping the board so it would reset itself.

“Yeah, I want that galleon.”

“Then win it from me, Weasley.”

“Oh, you’re on.”

We started another game, this time flipping the board so he was white. Minor as it was, advantage belonged to the loser after all.

After a few minutes, Ron bragged, “We’re totally going to crush you snakes. Violet’s amazing on a broom.”

That was another reason to do this. It was a good chance to feel out Gryffindor. True, it was usually inane gossip that didn’t matter to me in any way, and all of it was colored by Ron’s narrow perspective, but seemingly miscellaneous information could help bolster the Sight when I was asked to investigate one thing or another by a commissioner. The more I knew about a situation going in, the better my predictions.

“Yes, that does seem likely, doesn’t it?” I said with a smile. “I saw her, you know. Or, I think I did. A woman on a broom chasing a flash of something golden.”

“You should’ve known it wasn’t Malfoy,” he said, moving his rook forward. “There’s no way she’s as good as Violet.”

“I had my guesses, and explicitly warned her that she wouldn’t be happy with the outcome. She’s the one who chose to disregard my advice.”

“Well, now Gryffindor’s finally going to get the quidditch cup.”

“Maybe, but can I ask you something, Weasley?”

“Yeah, what?”

“Why do you care?” I asked bluntly. “I mean, you’re not on the team. If Gryffindor does win, you will have contributed nothing to their victory. Is it brotherly pride in the twins?”

“I guess? They’re my team. I’m a Gryffindor,” he said. And really, it was that simple. He had no other reason to like the team beyond that, nor did he need one. “And yeah, I guess I’m happy for my brothers.”

“Interesting.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means I don’t personally care who wins the cup. I also don’t have any brothers to root for either. I’ll probably attend the matches, but more because that is what’s expected of me than because I enjoy watching quidditch.”

“You don’t like quidditch?” He asked as if I was an alien. The notion that someone might not enjoy quidditch as much as he did was wild to him, like a muggle seeing a unicorn for the first time. “Bloody hell, you’re like Leontes.”

I hummed and feigned ignorance, moving my bishop to shield my queen. “That’s… Oh, that’s Granger, right? What about him?”

“He doesn’t see what the big deal is about quidditch either, thinks it’s all just a distraction from his precious books.”

“Oh? A Gryffindor with sense? Tell me it isn’t so,” I mock-gasped. “Truly, Hogwarts is a miraculous place.”

“Sod off, Zabini. He’s a right bother, he is, always going on about studying and trying to round us all up to do the same.”

“So what? That doesn’t sound like a bad thing. Why not go along with it once or twice?”

He scrunched his nose in distaste. “Merlin, no. He’ll never shut up, then. It’s no wonder he doesn’t have any friends.”

“Maybe he should have been a Ravenclaw.”

“Tell me about it. Or a girl, then maybe he wouldn’t bother us blokes every night.”

“I’m pretty sure the girls have a study group of their own. Patil, the one in Ravenclaw, organized it and roped in her twin.”

“Wait, how do you know?”

“Because I’m acquainted with the Patils. And Potter. I thought everyone knew that by now.”

“You’re the weirdest snake I’ve ever seen.”

“Hoh? Have you considered that I’m the snake that’s doing it right? Tell me, Weasley, what are the values of House Slytherin?”

“Being a slimy git?” At my disappointed frown, he gave me a sheepish smile. “Fine, cunning and ambition.”

“Exactly. And wouldn’t you say that a man’s ambitions might be best achieved by having lots of connections? Friends, you might even say.”

“I suppose…”

“Which is why I try to get to know at least one person from every house,” I nodded, satisfied. “I haven’t found a bloke in Hufflepuff yet, but I will eventually.”

“Is that what this is? You, making connections?” Ron asked, half amused and half suspicious. He could be dense at times, but let it never be said that he couldn’t connect the dots.

“It is,” I admitted easily. “It’s also a chance to enjoy a game of chess with minimal stakes.”

“You’re still bloody weird.”

“Anyway, back to what I was saying, everyone has things that matter to them. For you, it’s quidditch and chess. For Granger, it’s his grades.”

“And what about you then?”

I decided to steer the topic a little. “Why, my adorable owl, of course. Her name is Minerva and she’s crazy brilliant. Big, too. She’s twice as big as most other owls. She sometimes even bullies Nott for his bacon in the morning.”

“Lucky,” he grunted. “All I have is Scabbers.”

“Scabbers?” I probed gently. This was good, another thing I wanted. If anyone ever asked why or how I found out about Scabbers the rat, I could take some of the attention off my Sight and lay it directly at Ron’s feet. “What’s a Scabbers?”

“Oh, Scabbers is just the name of my rat. He’s not good for much, doesn’t even do any tricks. He’s just fat and lazy.”

“Then why do you still have him? Why not a kneazle if you don’t like owls for some reason?”

His face colored a little. “He was my brother’s.”

“Huh, nice. He could just be getting on in years then,” I told him. “Maybe he’s a grandpa rat and just likes to sleep quietly.”

“I guess so. Check.”

I moved my king out of the way. “You know, with all the galleons you’ve won from me, you could probably buy yourself an owl over the winter.”

He brightened at that. He really was overly sensitive about his financial situation. And really, he had no reason to be. Truth was, the Weasleys weren’t impoverished, Arthur was a department head for fuck’s sake; they just happened to have a lot more children than was typical. “Hey, you’re right. And mum can’t even say I didn’t earn this money for myself.”

“True enough. You won this money in a game of wits,” I agreed easily. I would be taking that fucking rat soon enough. True, I was doing everyone a favor, but I was still depriving a kid of his pet. A replacement owl was fair compensation in my book.

X

I met up with Violet in front of the great hall, a little before dinner. Parvati trailed behind her best friend with an eager smile and a cheery wave. I really should have expected the two to come together.

“Patil,” I greeted. “What are you doing here?”

“Being Violet’s bodyguard, duh. I mean, we can’t have a slimy snake whisking our dear Violet away, can we?” she said imperiously. “Who knows what sorts of dastardly plots you have in mind for her.”

“Yes, that’s me, here to gain Potter’s trust by saving her from the horrors of flobberworm fritters.”

“Ya, that too. Those things taste nasty,” she said, making a face. “I mean, really, I don’t need to be a seer to know what Snape’s going to do with the flobberworms we chopped up. He probably got a kick out of it, probably has something else to eat in his office.”

I couldn’t deny that. Giving the potions ingredients to the house elves for us to eat sounded like a Snape thing to enjoy. Unfortunately, the Hogwarts menu wasn’t always as diverse as seen during feasts. Usually, there was a much more reasonable starch, entree, and one or two sides. “Weren’t you in a study group earlier? So why isn’t the other Patil here too?”

She looked at me like I was an idiot. “You know, this is how we can tell you’re an only child.”

“What? Why?”

“We’re twins, Zabini. If we find an opportunity to delight in one another’s misfortune, we absolutely will. Oh, I have her back through thick and thin, but you can bet I’ll rub this in her face later.”

I laughed. Really, that sounded about right. “Alright, fine, but may the geeky twin’s wrath fall squarely on your shoulders then. Come along. Let’s go beg the elves for something different.”

“House elves? You know where the kitchens are?”

“Yup. Also, that’ll be a galleon from each of you for the trouble.”

“Really? You’d charge your best friends?”

“In a heartbeat. Gimme,” I said as I led them down towards the kitchen. They let off some token grumbles but each pressed a golden coin into my outstretched hand anyway.

The hallway beneath the castle was interesting. Somewhere nearby was the Undercroft, though I’d never played the Hogwarts Legacy game. I’d overlooked the game because Hogwarts didn’t feel like Hogwarts without Harry Potter and the main cast, something I regretted now. I knew a bit about the game through cultural osmosis, but that was all.

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Where even was it anyway? The name, “Undercroft,” implied that the secret base of the Gaunts was under the castle somewhere but there were no obvious entryways, at least along this hallway. If I had to guess, given the Gaunts’ connection to Slytherin, I would assume it was near the Slytherin common room, or perhaps even connected to ol’ Sal’s Chamber of Secrets.

It was probably protected somehow, maybe with a tailored notice-me-not charm that needed Gaunt blood to unravel. Then again, for all I knew, the name was a joke and the entrance to the Undercroft was actually near the owlery. That sounded like something a “sneaky” Gaunt would think to do.

Towards the end of the hallway, I found Tracey and her cousin. They were moments from tickling the pear and had turned at the sound of our footsteps. The two looked mildly surprised to see us. Clearly, they’d had the same idea as me.

“Greengrass, Davis, good evening,” I said with a cordial smile.

“Zabini, what are you doing here?” Tracey said with obvious suspicion.

“Showing Potter and Patil the kitchen, in exchange for fair compensation of course. Not a fan of flobberworm fritters, I take it?”

“Who is? They have other food, right?”

“Probably, if nothing else, they’d have something prepped for tomorrow’s breakfast and we can all have breakfast for supper instead.”

“Very well, we may as well eat together. Let’s go in,” Daphne said.

The kitchen was about a third of the size of the great hall. One wall was lined entirely with brick ovens, stacked in such a way as to remind me of a honeycomb. A stream of food flowed in and out of those ovens like worker bees seeking the flower patterns on the serving plates. There was a prep station set next to a giant cauldron of bubbling oil where elves were deep-frying the fritters. It looked like mushy peas and carrots were to be the side dishes.

The elves soon noticed us and ushered us off to a corner of the room where a table had been set aside for visitors. It wasn’t long before one of the elves got us a set of cold-cut sandwiches.

“How are you finding Hogwarts, Potter?” Daphne asked, making polite conversation.

Her eyes kept wandering to Violet’s pierced ear, three on her upper helix and a fat, red stud on her lobe. Violet had also foregone her school uniform after class, changing in favor of a black, Bon Jovi t-shirt and a matching choker. A dark denim skirt and sole stocking completed her outfit.

I decided then and there that I’d lean back and enjoy the show. Daphne was sheltered, in a way that even many magicals were not. This was probably her first exposure to “alternative” fashion, or anything muggle-related for that matter. Perhaps Tracey had some knowledge with a muggleborn father, but I doubted Lord Greengrass was very accommodating of such interests.

I waved down an elf. It seemed I’d found my entertainment for the evening. “Say, do you have any popcorn? Just a small bowl, please.”

X

Violet Potter

Zabini was laughing at me. Somehow, he’d gotten the prissy princess to eat with us. I didn’t know what he found so funny about this, but he did. I could see it in that smarmy smirk of his.

The rat bastard even had popcorn!

I had to keep my cool. Daphne Greengrass was the “other” Slytherin princess, but she was a hell of a lot better than Malfoy. She didn’t spread nasty rumors or act like she was the boss of everyone while throwing around daddy’s name.

Actually, seeing her now, I realized I knew precious little about other Slytherins besides Malfoy and Zabini. One was a spoiled bitch and the other was a smarmy, know-it-all, money-grubbing git who somehow ended up being my friend. Greengrass wasn’t anything like either though. She mostly kept to herself and Tracey Davis. Maybe she’d be alright.

“How are you finding Hogwarts, Potter?” she asked after taking a dainty bite of her sandwich. God, she even made wiping mayo off the side of her mouth look elegant. It wasn’t fair. I felt like I was attending a job interview, not that I’d ever been to one.

I couldn’t have that. I tried to lighten the mood. “Oh, the castle’s great, but it’s got a bit of a pest problem, way too many snakes.”

Daphne’s eyes narrowed. She upturned her nose and sniffed. “Excuse me? If our company isn’t to your liking, the door’s that way.”

“Yeesh, take a joke, princess.”

“Princess?”

“Yeah, ‘cause your dad’s some pureblood bigshot, right?”

“If you mean a lord of the Wizengamot, then yes. Clearly, no one’s taught you anything resembling manners.” She looked me up and down and frowned. “Or how to dress…”

That was a little hurtful, damnit! “Hey! What’s wrong with the way I dress?”

“Where do I begin?”

“This is called style, princess.”

“Really, now? I’m not sure you know what that word means,” she said, one dainty eyebrow raised in judgment.

I made a show of looking her over as well. “As opposed to what? The Hogwarts uniform? Sorry one of us dares to have a personality. When you find yours, let me know.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t act like you know me either.”

We stared at each other, trying to figure out how to handle this. We were clearly very different people, not that I expected anything else, but I didn’t think we’d immediately start sniping at each other like this.

I… technically may have started this, but it wasn’t my fault she got catty over a joke! Next to us, Parvati and Tracey didn’t look like they knew what to do either.

Then we were brought out of our little staring contest by the sound of Blaise noisily munching on popcorn. Daphne heard too, and an unspoken armistice passed between us. Almost in perfect synchronicity, we turned towards the likely orchestrator of this mess. Even if he had nothing to do with us meeting like this, he probably deserved it for something, the smarmy jerk.

“Are we just entertainment to you?” Daphne asked with an annoyed huff.

“I mean, I wouldn’t want to be rude,” he said with his usual smug grin. “You ladies sound like you’ve got some things to hash out, no sense interrupting.”

I snorted. Since when did Blaise give a damn about manners? “Get it off your chest, you prat. I know you’re dying to.”

“Fine, I was just thinking that it’s like watching a pair of seagulls arguing over nothing because both are social cripples and neither speak the same langua-Ow! You said to get it off my chest,” he whined, rubbing his shin.

“I don’t recall saying I wouldn’t kick Zabini, do you, Greengrass?” I asked with an innocent smile.

“You know, I don’t recall you saying that either.”

We shared a moment of mutual comradery. If the princess and I could agree on one thing, it was that Blaise could use a bit of humbling once in a while, or as frequently as was convenient, really.

Then I remembered that the rat bastard was a seer. He’d been making a fool of the twins all month. Blaise didn’t get hit unless he wanted to, not by anyone our age. Which meant he let me hit him to relieve the tension. Which meant, for whatever reason, he wanted us to get along.

I looked at him again and, sure enough, he shot me a subtle wink.

I sighed, resigned to letting the bastard pull me along like a puppet, and held out a hand for Daphne. “Sorry, let’s start again. I’m Violet Potter and I’m a sarcastic bitch. I was making a joke about snakes because the way you talk all formal makes me feel like I’m at a job interview.”

She put her hand in mine. “That’s… fair, I suppose. Daphne Greengrass. I-I admit I am not used to socializing with other people outside of a more structured context. I did not mean to mock your clothes upon first meeting; I apologize.”

“Just the first? So they’ll be fair game on the second meeting then?”

“Quite,” she said, mouth upturned in a faint smirk.

We fell into an awkward silence, picking at our food like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Even Parvati, the chatterbox, didn’t seem keen on talking.

Surprisingly, Blaise wasn’t the one who broke the silence.

“So, Potter,” Tracey said. “Bon Jovi, huh? They’re a band, right?”

That caught me by surprise. “You know them?”

“Eh, kinda. I’m a half-blood and dad was a muggleborn.”

“Was?”

“My parents died six years ago. Werewolves. It’s why I live with Daphne. Dad was pretty big into music. He was saying something about a new American rock band. Runaway I think?”

“Oh, sorry to hear that…”

“It happened,” Tracey shrugged. “Fuck werewolves, but I’m done being all broken up over it. So?

“Yeah, Runaway was their first single. The band’s name is Bon Jovi. I heard they’re really popular in the States. Less so here, but still good.”

“Huh. I have some cassette tapes lying around somewhere. Aunt Selene let me keep them since they were dad’s. I have no idea how to play them but they’re supposed to store music?”

“You need a little machine that reads the tapes for that. It spins the little wheel-thingies inside and that somehow produces music. Don’t ask, I don’t know how they work either.”

“Neat. So why all the piercings?”

I frowned. “It’s going to make me look super lame.”

“Sounds like a story.”

“Eh, alright, fine. There was a boy…”

Parvati nudged my side. “A boy? Do tell, Vi.”

“Not that kind. He was kind of gross, actually. And older than me. But he wanted to be a tattoo artist, have his own shop and everything. He did little designs for people using a needle and ink in the boy’s restroom at the school I went to.”

“The teachers let him do that in muggle schools?”

“I didn’t say I went to a good school. Actually, I’m pretty sure he got expelled for it,” I said with a wry chuckle. “Anyway, he also did piercings for money. I don’t know if he was any good, but I… I wanted to fit in.”

“You? Fit in? You’re the Girl Who Lived!” Tracey gasped, shocked at the idea. Shows what she knew; she equated being gawked at like a zoo exhibit with popularity.

“Not in the muggle world, I’m not. So, yeah, I asked him for a piercing but he said I didn’t have enough money and kicked me out.”

“Wait, then how did you get your ears pierced?”

“My friend, Holly. She’s the best bitch anyone could have, you know? Always had my back since she kneed my cousin in the dick when we were six.”

“I see how it is. I’m just a replacement, huh?” Parvati moaned. She could be such a drama queen sometimes.

“Do you want to hear the story or not?”

“Shutting up now.”

“Well, there isn’t much to tell. Holly said that if he wouldn’t give me a piercing, I should do it myself.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” I leaned forward a bit and tilted my head so they could get a good look. “See? There’s a bit of scarring because I did it wrong the first time. I stole a needle from the nurse’s office, heated up one end with a lighter Holly stole from a liquor store, and then…”

“D-Did it hurt?” Daphne asked, morbidly curious despite herself.

“Heh, yeah. I bled a lot but I got the piercings I wanted I guess.”

“That is… impressive discipline…”

“You can call me a moron, you know. I deserve that one.”

“I don’t see why I would,” she sniffed. I decided then and there that it would be my goal to teach her to swear.

“Come on, you know you want to. It was really stupid.”

“It was, but some of us have this thing called decorum. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”

“Oho, is the snake princess showing her fangs?”

“I’ll show you fangs if you don’t stop calling me that ridiculous nickname,” she huffed. But there was none of the bite from earlier. Maybe, maybe these two weren’t all bad. “Oh, Zabini, here, before I forget.”

Daphne took something out of her purse and slid it over. It was a quill, one of the more expensive ones with a bronze tip for smoother writing.

Blaise took it in hand. “Oh?”

“Runcorn’s.”

“Ah, that’s fair. And my payment?”

“You’ll get it when you give me the information I need. I’ve got an upper year scoped out and a letter of introduction penned for a potions master my family works with.”

“Very well. It shouldn’t take me long.”

“Hold on,” Parvati said, “Runcorn? As in Alice Runcorn in our year?”

“Yes, is there a problem?” Daphne asked.

“What about her?”

“None of your business, Patil. As unexpectedly pleasant as this dinner has been, I have no intention of telling you my plans.”

“It’s a Slytherin thing,” Blaise said, waving his housemate off. “We all make plans. It’s good practice. It just so happens that Greengrass is smart enough to ask a seer to make sure her plans are actually good plans.”

“You’re all bloody nutters,” I said. “That’s Runcorn’s quill, right? If you’re not going to tell us, why give it to Zabini in front of us?”

“Again, it’s a Slytherin thing. We’re caught in this weird paradox, see? On one hand, if a plan is truly, perfectly cunning, no one else will know about it. On the other hand, our house rewards cunning plans with social standing. So people like Greengrass here try to strike a balance between actually enacting schemes in the dark and showing off to everyone else so you can see that she’s got schemes.”

“That sounds really bloody stupid.”

“It is. It’s like a cat bringing home a dead pigeon. You don’t need it for anything, but it’s a way to show they care, I guess.”

Daphne flushed red at that. “Shut it, Zabini.”

I laughed. The more I heard about Slytherin, the happier I was to have avoided it. “So what’s Greengrass planning then?”

“Better not tell you now,” Zabini said.

“What’s that mean?”

“Reply hazy, try again later.”

“He’s doing that dumb magic 8 ball thing,” Parvati said with an exasperated sigh. “Vi, can you kick him again?”

“Can’t,” I said. I tried halfheartedly anyway, only for his cane to jab my inner thigh, just above the knee. It made my whole leg go numb for a second. “Ugh, he’ll just see it coming.”

“Fine, let the sneaky sneaks keep their secrets.”

“Right. We can tell everyone there’s a Slytheirn-only prank war that the twins aren’t invited to. That’ll be interesting.”

“I would greatly appreciate it if you don’t sic the twins on us for your own amusement,” Daphne drawled.

“Hmm… How about you buy my silence then?”

“Extortion? My, I wasn’t expecting this from the Gryffindor.”

“What can I say? I’m a girl with hidden depths.”

She smiled and offered me a nod of mutual respect. “A shoddy attempt, but not terrible all things considered. We’ll make a Slytherin out of you yet.”

I let out an exaggerated shudder. “That sounds like a tragedy, no thanks.”

Author’s Note

Ron is playing chess but Blaise is playing his own games, weaving a web around the castle at large. One of these days, Ron might realize that real cunning and wit aren’t things you can find on a chessboard. That day sure isn’t now though.

I see Violet as a bit of “soft punk” if that’s a thing. She’s not really down for the full anti-establishment, anti-capitalism agenda inasmuch as she isn’t politically conscious at all. The only authority figure she’s interested in rebelling against is Aunt Petunia, and to that end, she’ll happily pick up any fashion that her aunt disapproves of, including piercings, choker, mismatched socks, etc.

Does she realize Bon Jovi is not very punk at all? Probably, but Aunt Petunia doesn’t like yankees so that’s good enough for her. Could she recognize any song from them besides Livin’ on a Prayer? Debatable.

In a way, she’s built up this identity around being “independent from my relatives,” not realizing that this rebellion is in itself allowing her family to have an outsized influence on her identity. Otherwise, she’s a bit of a blank slate.

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