Chapter 22: En Garde!

Blaise Zabini

Hogwarts, Great Britain

I found Daphne in the library after classes on Friday. She was, as always, with her cousin, jotting down notes for a transfiguration essay. McGonagall had introduced us to the avifors spell, a jinx that turned small objects into birds.

The full incantation and instructions were listed in The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 2, but she had us reading up on the theory anyway. It was a little like how grade schoolers learned about shapes and basic geometry before actually taking geometry in middle school. Apparently, the spell was a very useful one for demonstrating certain principles as it did not distinguish between living and nonlivng targets.

“That book doesn’t have what you want,” I said as I set my bookbag down in front of them. I pointed out another book they had in their pile. “That one’s got a more in-depth explanation for why some spells don’t care about the living-nonliving distinction.”

Daphne looked down at the tome in her hand before closing it with a sigh. Grumbling under her breath, she picked up the right book. “I’m not paying for this.”

“Of course not. It was advice freely offered.”

“Hmph. And I take it you’ve already written this essay?”

“Yes, four days ago.” With little else to do, I’d expanded my lead on my coursework. Not only was magic fascinating, it was also great practice with my crystal ball. “It’s fascinating stuff, really. Want some help?”

“I’ll pass.” She reached into her bookbag and withdrew a glass vial. It had been cut and faceted like a diamond, giving the liquid inside a shimmering, gem-like quality. She set it on the table and slid it to the center, allowing it to catch the light. “I take it you have something for me?”

I pulled out a sheet of parchment with the notes I’d taken the night prior. The draught of living death wasn’t a cheap potion; I did my best to be thorough. “I do. Let’s start with the biggest question: She doesn’t hate Davis because she’s a half-blood. Her family hates Davis because she’s a half-blood.”

“I don’t bloody get it,” Tracey glared at nothing. “What? Do half-bloods have some stench no one’s telling me about? And when the hell did I even meet her family?”

“At a yule ball some years back,” I said as Daphne took her hand. “Far as I can tell, her father learned about how Lord Greengrass is taking care of his half-blood niece and decided that you don’t deserve to show up at those events.”

“Well bloody fuck him then.”

“Sure, but I bring it up because Runcorn herself doesn’t have anything against you. She’s been taught that she’s your better, but that’s par for the course. If I had to describe her feelings towards you, it’s mild distaste and general ambivalence.”

“Joy, because that makes me feel so much better.”

“It should. It means that since Runcorn has no strongly held personal convictions against you, she can be coerced or bribed into tolerating being associated with you.” I felt terrible saying that. I was telling a fourteen year old girl that she needed to bribe people to get friends. And yet, this was exactly what Daphne paid for, a way to get Alice on their side before Lyra stole her away.

“We get it,” Daphne said before Tracey could grow more agitated. “So how can we get her to work with us?”

I thought about everything I’d learned during last night’s deep dive. Much of it was private and I was unwilling to divulge too many of her secrets, but perhaps I could steer them together in a way that would help ameliorate some of that underlying resentment. Otherwise, either Tracey or Alice would do something that’d cause a lot of pain on all sides. As civil as Daphne had been with me, that was because she needed me. I knew how catty she could get.

From what I saw, Alice really wasn’t a bad person, just someone who grew up in less than ideal circumstances. She could, with the right friends, get out of her shell. Making her Daphne’s lackey was hardly the same as making her a proponent for equality, but, baby steps.

I opted to be candid with them for the most part. “She’s insecure, and about more things than your average teenage girl.”

“I don’t need you to tell me she looks like a beanpole, Zabini,” the blonde said snidely.

“No, Greengrass, I don’t mean Runcorn is insecure about her appearance, though there is a fair bit of that too. It comes back to her family.”

“What? Are they too bigoted for her delicate sensibilities?” Tracey scoffed.

“They’re too talented. Her uncles are unspeakables. Her father is a spellcrafter, one of the few true masters in the British isles Her mother is a potions mistress and you already know how rare that is. They’re all great at what they do and-”

“And she’s not,” Daphne said dryly. “She’s utterly mediocre, maybe with some modicum of talent in charms.”

“I wouldn’t say that. We’re in our first year; give her time to come into her own.”

“Is that a prediction? Or are you just playing devil’s advocate?”

“More of the latter, but I do think diligence trumps natural talent in most cases. Don’t dismiss her ambition, especially not in our house, Greengrass.”

“Point. What else can you tell us about her?”

“She values her heritage, as she’s been taught, and feels that she needs to excel in at least one field to live up to her parents’ accomplishments. The way I see it, you could easily build inroads with her if you’re willing to tutor her in charms.”

“She wants to be a spellcrafter like her father, I take it?”

“Yup. So play nice, offer her some help without making it look like pity, and you should have a loyal friend soon enough.”

“Or she can decide she’s jealous.”

“That’s up to you. Don’t tell me the princess is lacking her social graces.”

“Don’t call me that. I had enough of that from Potter,” she said.

“Fine, fine. Any other questions for me?”

“Are there any personal interests I can use to lure her in with?”

I handed her a slip of parchment at that. “She’s a big fan of the Holyhead Harpies, has a sweet tooth, and likes to collect gobstone marbles. By sweet tooth, I mean she prefers fruity snacks over chocolate frogs. She went to the States a few years back and developed a taste for pears and peaches in particular. Oddly enough, she doesn’t like playing gobstones much; she just thinks the marbles are pretty to look at. It’s all there, though I recommend you lose that sheet after you learn it. If you let slip that I gave you a cheatsheet into her good graces, I’m going to laugh at you.”

“Thank you, Zabini. We can work with this.”

“Good luck. Hope you make a new friend.” I reached out and took the vial on the table. “Please understand that if this is a dud, I’ll be quite upset with you, Greengrass. I don’t think I need to promise vengeance, do I?”

“Of course not. Don’t say the obvious. I admit giving you a potion like this makes me wary, but it’s the genuine article. I suspect you’ll be able to check its authenticity long before you need to use it.”

“Then I’m impressed. It didn’t take you long to source this.”

“I bought it from a sixth year in exchange for introducing him to a potions master who works for my family. Whether he can leverage that letter into an apprenticeship over winter break will be up to him,” she said with a shrug.

“”Excellent, a pleasure doing business with you.”

“Likewise, you are… not unpleasant to work with.”

I laughed. That was as good as glowing praise coming from her. “And I think you can use more friends. Do be nice to Runcorn, won’t you? Both of you.”

“We’ll make a genuine effort, but we won’t bend over backwards to accommodate her.”

“As you please. Care to walk with me to dinner?”

Tracey looked at me strangely at that. “Really? Will you be gracing the rest of us with your presence? And here we thought you preferred the company of house elves to your housemates.”

I shrugged and smiled. “I do, actually. Between Nott taking snide shots at me or having a house elf give me yet another scoop of cobbler, I know what I’d prefer.”

“Point,” she said with a snigger. Then she realized she’d been laughing with me of all people and schooled her expression.

“Although, I don’t eat in the kitchens. Most of the time when I’m not in the cafeteria, I’m actually in the owlery.”

“The owlery? Why? It smells like musty feathers there.”

“True, but that’s not their fault. There’s only so much even a freshening charm can do when there are dozens of owls in one space. Besides, Minerva’s worth it.”

“Minerva? You named your owl after our transfiguration professor?”

“After the Roman goddess of wisdom, whose iconography predominantly consisted of owls,” I sniffed. It’s not my fault if any of you rubes jump to the wrong conclusion.”

“Fine, whatever. Let’s go get dinner. Daph?”

Daphne began to pack up her bookbag. She picked up the book I’d initially pointed out to check out for later. “Very well, let us be off then.”

X

We were in the second floor corridor, the library happened to have its exit there today for some reason, when I felt my Sight trigger. I took a step to the side and used my cane to tap Tracey on the shin.

“Ow! What the hell, Zabi-” she yelped. Before she could even finish cussing me out, a water balloon sailed past her head.

“You’re welcome, Davis.”

“Bloody twins. We know you’re there!” she shouted, actually stamping her foot in rage. I didn’t think anyone did that; it was kinda cute.

I tapped her shoulder and pointed towards a corner of the hall, above and behind a torch. “Not the twins. Peeves.”

“The poltergeist? Ugh. Where is he now?”

“Here I am!” Peeves cheered as he popped into the visible spectrum, hovering behind a suit of armor. He held his arms wide like the ringmaster at a circus awaiting applause. A dozen water balloons floated in a halo around him. Slung over his shoulder was a sack which undoubtedly contained more. “Hahahaha! Is ickle snakesies mad at poor Peevsie?”

“Damn it, I so don’t need this right now.”

“I thought you were supposed to be able to avoid things like this,” Daphne said under her breath.

“Flattering, but you give me too much credit, Greengrass,” I muttered back. Morning predictions kept me away from plots of consequence, not these instances of simple bad luck. If I tried to account for every little thing, I’d be too tired to get out of bed at all.

“Peeves wants to see firstie snakesies run!”

He juggled the water balloons in his hands like a jester before giving us a malicious grin. Then, with a flick of the wrist, they flew towards us one by one.

Or, they flew towards me one by one.

I heard a set of twin footsteps behind me. There was no need to turn around to check; those two ditched the cripple without a second thought. I wasn’t sure what I expected, that was the Slytherin thing to do, but it still stung a bit.

Sighing, I stepped out of the way of two and ducked under a third before bringing my cane up to parry a fourth. The liquid inside distorted awkwardly, sending it bouncing away at a strange angle before popping against the stone floor.

“No fair! No fair! You’re supposed to get wet!” Peeves whined.

He then threw more, two at a time now. But with five whole seconds to look ahead and a body no longer wracked by uncontrollable spasms, I deftly dodged them all.

Ten. Twelve. He ran out of the ones he’d been telekinetically controlling and began to dip into his sack. The balloons curved like baseball pitches but I continued to slip through his barrage, much to his growing agitation.

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I knew why he was doing this. I wasn’t special; he had no unique grievance against me, nor the girls. Peeves wasn’t a true ghost. Rather, he was a spirit of the mischief of children, the embodiment of Hogwarts’ more playful zeitgeist.He feared the Bloody Baron and Headmaster Dumbledore. If I had to guess, the former because he looked terrifying from a child’s perspective and the latter because the headmaster’s seat granted him some authority over all spirits here, perhaps even enough to banish the poltergeist.

Unfortunately, I was neither so I’d have to lean in a different direction.

“This is a game, Peeves, and you haven’t scored even one point yet,” I said teasingly. If I wanted to get anywhere with him, I needed to speak his language. I held up my cane like a fencer’s sword and bowed. I then took a fencer’s stance and pointed the cane at him with an exaggerated flourish. “You must first bow to start the duel, don’t you know? Now, have at thee!”

“A game? Snakesie wants to play with Peevsie?” he asked in genuine confusion. Slytherins didn’t typically indulge the poltergeist.

“That’s right. How about this? Every time I avoid getting hit by a balloon, I get a point. If you can hit me, you get a point. And, whoever loses has to listen to the winner, okay?”

“No cheating!”

“No magic, promise,” I said solemnly. “This shall be a grand duel, and a duelist lets his sword do the talking.”

“Those ones don’t count,” he insisted, waving at the puddle around me. “Now we’re for realsies!”

“Then come!”

I allowed myself to slip into my more juvenile impulses. Life wasn’t all about plotting after all, not even for a seer in the house of snakes, even if that seer was a reincarnator older than his years.

I dipped and ducked, sometimes dodging aside with a flamboyant twirl like a ballerina. I briefly hid behind a suit of armor, only for Peeves to call me out for “cheating.” From then on, I stood in the center of the room and slashed the air with my cane, deflecting and popping every balloon as if I was an anime swordsman weathering a hail of arrows.

Until finally, Peeves ran out of ammunition. He panted with seeming exhaustion, though I had a feeling that had more to do with the conclusion of the “game,” the end of “playtime” as the spirit knew it. Conceptually, as the spirit of mischief and childlike wonder, he’d been thoroughly satisfied.

“This is solidly my victory, Peeves,” I told him with a smile.

“It is! It is! But Peevsie will be back for ickle firstie snakesie-sword! Just you wait!” he said. He flew off with a cackle before I could call in my winnings, leaving me standing alone in the middle of a giant puddle.

Pity, it would’ve been nice to have Peeves listen to me, few knew the castle better than the immortal poltergeist, but I didn’t mind too much. There would be other days, other duels between the poltergeist and “snakesie-sword.”

Though that was a distraction I hadn’t foreseen, it was, if I was being honest with myself, also a lot of fun. I’d made a habit of exercising of course, and the Room of Requirement did provide me with a moving obstacle course, but dodging projectiles, competing against someone else, felt different. It was an indulgence I wouldn’t mind once in a while.

X

“You’re not wet,” Tracey noted with mild interest as I took a seat across from her in the great hall.

I scooped myself a plate of mushy peas and shepherd’s pie. I rolled my eyes and jabbed a fork in her direction. “An astute observation, Davis. I appreciate you two sticking around, by the way, a sterling example of house solidarity there.”

“Sorry, we don’t know the shield spell yet,” Daphne said calmly.

Tracey nodded. “Exactly, you weren’t realistically going to run from that.”

I almost forgot because I barely noticed anymore, but I still carried my cane. I was still excused from midnight astronomy classes. As far as they knew, though I hadn’t tripped over myself in weeks, a hurried hobble was as best as I could manage.

Which meant that in their view, it was like being chased by a bear. So long as you were faster than the slowest person in your group, you didn’t need to outrun the bear.

“And mutual suffering in the name of house solidarity is for Hufflepuffs, is that right?” I drawled.

“See? You get it, Zabini,” Tracey chirped, her brunette tresses bouncing with faux cheer.

“You’re a riot, Davis, truly, you are.”

We ate in silence for a minute before Daphne spoke again. “So what happened?”

“Hmm?”

“Color me curious. You obviously got Peeves to leave you alone somehow. Care to share any tips?”

“We’ve come to an agreement, that’s all.”

“So long as you continue to keep him away from us.”

“Now there’s an idea…”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she growled. Her green eyes looked like chips of emerald, dazzling but hard and frigid.

“Me? No, of course not,” I said with an impish smirk. “I would never convince our resident poltergeist to target you specifically, Greengrass. But then again, who knows? A little schadenfreude does sound entertaining and accidents do happen.”

“Zabini…” she trailed off. It was probably supposed to sound low and menacing but only managed to remind me of an angry kitten.

“Greengrass~” I sang back.

“Ugh, please don’t ever use that tone with my name.”

“Yeah, that sounded disgusting to me too.”

“Fine, whatever. I’ll pay you, happy? Name your price, within reason.”

“I’m kidding, really. Besides, extortion and coercion are horrible business strategies in the long-term.”

“I didn’t realize you were smart enough to think in the long-term,” she sniped.

“Well, if you insist…” I couldn’t hold back a chuckle at her mulish look. She was unexpectedly fun to rile up. “Again, joking. I’m not actually sure if I can get Peeves to do anything. He does get more manageable once you understand just what he is.”

“And he is?”

“A poltergeist, not a true ghost.”

“How does knowing that help?”

“It helped me well enough.” I polished off the last of my shepherd’s pie and stood. “Anyway, lovely chat, but I’m going to head off to bed. Good night, Greengrass, Davis.”

X

Today was Halloween. In other words, today marked the first major “station of canon” in Violet's life. If I had to be honest, I would admit that today made me nervous.

Classes let out early for the feast and I’d decided to spend what little free time I had in the library, looking up new spells to learn. I wandered from shelf to shelf without any rhyme or reason. I did that once a week or so, or when the mood struck me. It was relaxing to browse the titles and surround myself in the smell of weathered pages, a reminder of what I used to be before I was Blaise.

The Perfect Teatime

Twenty-Four Spells to Tell Time

The Siren Song: Music and its role in magical history

To Live a Glorious Life: A memoir of Hans Viktor Wagner

The library truly was a place of marvels. The whole place was perfectly organized at all times, Madam Pince wouldn’t have it any other way, but it still never failed to surprise me in little ways. It was as if the castle had its own personality, a will which it enacted upon the library to keep things fresh, yet familiar.

I picked up the memoir, the name of the author sounded vaguely familiar, then paused. There was a quiet groaning coming from the nearby corner. It wasn’t two students trying not to get caught while fucking, I knew what that sounded like from unfortunate experience, so I made my way there.

There, I found Leontes Granger himself, my personal homework-mule, though he knew it not. He sat at a small lounge chair, one of many dotted throughout the library’s little nooks. His wavy hair made him look a little like a mushroom and partially obscured his face, though not enough to hide the big bruise on his cheek.

I could leave. Shamefully, that was my first impulse. Oh, I didn’t need to be a seer to take a good guess, but Leontes’ troubles weren’t any of my business. I’d gain nothing from helping him.

And yet, I was a librarian. I was an educator of sorts. Walking away didn’t sit right with me so I quashed my first impulse and tapped on a nearby shelf to announce my presence.

‘I suppose I owe him for mooching off his homework,’ I mused.

He jolted in surprise; he hadn’t expected to be found. “Zabini? W-What do you want?”

“Not much, but you look like you could do with Madam Pomfrey’s attention,” I said neutrally.

He turned his head, trying to hide the blooming bruise on his cheek. That just showed me his opposite eye, and the fat bruise covering it. “It’s fine. It’s nothing.”

“You sure, Granger? Because that’s a hell of a shiner you’ve got there.”

“Go away.”

There was no other seat available, but I made a show of leaning against the shelf. “Hmm, I wouldn’t be much of a Slytherin if I took orders from a Gryffindor, don’t you think?”

“Please go away?”

“No.”

“Sod off!”

“Nah.”

“I’ll hex you.”

“We’re in the library.”

“Bastard.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know, whatever other aspersions might be made about my mother-dearest, my parents were married when I was born,” I said with mock-offense.

“Whatever.” He huffed and plopped a book in his lap, louder than strictly necessary. He was very insistent on pretending I wasn’t here.

I couldn’t have that. I slid to the ground and took a seat before doing a bit of light reading of my own. Then, after a few minutes, I tried again. “Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Not going to see Madam Pomfrey?”

“It’s fine. It’ll go away on its own.”

“Suit yourself, Granger.”

I read the first chapter of Wagner’s memoir. He was a man who lived during the Age of Sail, a curse-breaker and Order of Merlin, Second Class who dedicated his life to finding Atlantis. He failed, but the mere attempt was fascinating to read about.

The man had a bombastic personality that was at once cocky and charismatic, a bit like an old-timey Indiana Jones. He talked about walking through the ruins of Pompei and finding traces of wards that had been long since shattered. Not quite Atlantis, but further than anyone else had managed. Though my original intent had been to look up random spells that caught my eye, the account of his travels expanded my understanding of what was possible with magic.

As usual, the Hogwarts library never failed to disappoint.

“Zabini?” Leontes spoke after half an hour of silence.

“Yo.”

“You also have perfect ‘O’s right?”

“Of course I do.” Thanks to him.

“How do you do it?”

“Ugh, I’m not playing the pronoun game with you, Granger. Do what? What is ‘it?’ You’re going to have to be more specific. I’m a seer, not a mind-reader.”

“Just… be you. Not have people hate you… be popular,” he whispered.

That made me blink in surprise, but it made sense, I supposed. From the perspective of a lonely nerd, the foremost information broker in the school must have seemed quite popular. Affection and necessity weren’t the same thing however. “The easy answer is that people can’t afford to hate me. Slytherin isn’t like the other houses. We don’t really have house-wide friendships like Hufflepuff, or to a lesser extent, Gryffindor. Instead, we have alliances of mutual benefit and those shift all the time. There is no expectation of lasting friendship barring some select examples.”

“That… That sounds more like a business convention or the Parliament than a school dorm.”

“It does, doesn’t it? Maybe that’s because it’s how many of us were raised. In some ways, Slytherin House is a microcosm of pureblood society, a chance for us to cut our teeth before the real thing, and we treat it as such. There are many of my housemates who will one day sit on the Wizengamot so that Parliament example isn’t far off. This transactional nature of House Slytherin is also what makes me almost untouchable. Information is power and I can find out lots of valuable information.”

“So you’re left alone because you’re valuable?”

“That’s part of it. The rest is that I was raised to interact with other purebloods within the expected social conventions. My family isn’t British nobility like the Malfoys, but it’s very widespread across southern Europe and quite wealthy. Like the rest of my house, I have many acquaintances, few friends, and absolutely no one I would pour my heart out to,” I said. Though, unlike most, the latter was because I lacked an emotional peer rather than any intentional distance I enforced.

“That sounds lonely,” Leontes said. “I thought…”

“You thought…?” I coaxed.

“Hogwarts is the oldest and greatest magical school in the world,” he whispered, no doubt quoting a line from Hogwarts: A History. “I thought people would be as interested in learning as me.”

“You’re in the wrong house for that. Besides, that ‘best school in the world’ thing is nonsense. There are eleven major magical schools in the world registered and recognized by the International Confederation of Wizards, of which Hogwarts is one. Each specializes in different subjects. Hogwarts does have the most well-rounded education in my opinion, but I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s the best.”

“R-Really?”

“What? Where do you think wizards in Japan go to school?”

“I just… I guess I never thought about it.”

“Mahoutokoro in Iwo Jima, if you must know.”

“Huh…”

“So? What happened to your face?” I asked now that he wasn’t brooding.

“I fell.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence, Granger.”

“Well why do you care anyway?” he huffed.

I sighed. He was being stubborn, like most teenage boys. I could keep pressing, but I didn’t think he’d be willing to tell me. He’d probably just clam up again. “Fine, don’t tell me. But you should still go to Madam Pomfrey before the feast.”

“I don’t think I want to go to the feast tonight. I’m not really in a celebratory mood.”

“Ugh, you’re really going to be like this, huh?”

“Like what?”

“Fine, guess I’m pulling the ‘I’m a seer’ card after all. Look, I came to find you because I felt something really bad might happen if you skip out on the feast.”

“What? Will McLaggen not have someone to laugh at?” he shot back, then realized he’d said too much.

I gamely didn’t comment but pocketed the information for later. Bullied, and by an older year then. I supposed that was more likely than him getting into a slugfest with Ron of all people. “Not that kind of bad. Do you really think I’d come find you if I thought the worst you’d have to deal with is some name-calling? If you skip the feast, there is a chance you might get seriously hurt.”

I didn’t know that. I couldn’t know that. Simply being born a boy would mean Leontes wouldn’t be found in the girl’s bathroom. The troll, if it did end up roaming the halls later tonight, should miss Leontes entirely.

And yet, I knew Fate was a thing, a conscious, sentient entity. I didn’t know if Leontes had her attention, but it couldn’t hurt to be sure.

“I-What? Is this a prophecy?”

“No, seers don’t usually remember those,” I pointed out. “Just a bad feeling, okay? If you really want to skip the feast, don’t leave the Gryffindor tower tonight.”

“I… Fine. And thanks, Zabini,” he said hesitantly.

“You want me to sic the twins on McLaggen? Free of charge, one time offer.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Suit yourself.” I rose and dusted myself off. “My warning’s delivered. I suggest you heed it.”

“Fine, whatever. Goodnight, Zabini.”

Author’s Note

Avifors was shown to transmute blast-ended skrewts into birds along with nonliving objects.

Some of you might remember, but Blaise has a ring that is enchanted to cast episkey at will. He used it to mitigate the symptoms of the cruciatus curse for himself. He could have fixed Leontes’ bruise but held off on that because a wandless heal is the kind of thing he wants to keep in his back pocket.

Animal fact? Sure. Lobsters have their bladders in their heads. When males jockey for dominance, it’s fairly common for them to squirt each other with their pee. So yes, “pee on them to assert dominance” is a valid strategy for some animals.

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.