Chapter 5: All Aboard the Choo-Choo Train

London, Great Britain

I stood on Platform 9 ¾ with mother-dearest, my luggage, and Minerva the owl. To my surprise, it was Valencia who woke me up this morning, saying she'd see me off to school. It was a once a year event so hardly a time commitment, but that she took her time out of her schedule to come along was… something. What it said, I wasn't exactly sure.

I felt Minerva pruning my hair; she liked to do that, like I was an owlet for her to groom. Her talons were sharp as fuck and the leather cap the pet shop recommended made me sweaty so I quickly gave up giving her rides on my skull. Instead, I got her a little, shoulder-mounted perch I could wear over my right shoulder. It was basically a normal shoulder strap with a hardened leather platform for the oversized owl to sit on. It looked silly, but there was something pretty fucking cool about having a giant bird nestling into you.

The two of us gamely ignored the captivated stares of men twice her age and the jealous fits of their wives. Witches' robe or not, mother still managed to turn heads. She'd spent the morning making sure we were presentable, which meant "dressing down" in what was the magical world's equivalent of a button-down shirt, slacks, and loafers. Still evident that we had money to burn, but not quite the lacy monstrosity that was the wizarding dress robe.

"Remember, Blaise, image is a power unto itself. An image of strength, an image of vulnerability, they both have their uses," she whispered in my ear as she came in for a hug. "Cultivate useful pawns but know that every relationship has a price, whether social or monetary. Some people are just too expensive to keep around, no matter their talents. Use them and toss them, without distorting your image."

"Yes, mother," I replied back in rote. I heard what she hadn't put to words: Mudbloods weren't worth it. Not because she had any innate sense of superiority over them, not any more than anyone else we met on the street, but because they were "too expensive" in terms of social clout to be worth the investment.

It was a final reminder: No matter how seductive, how empathetic she seemed, Valencia Zabini was a transactional creature who weighed lives on a scale of material gains.

Then, with a final peck on the cheek, she whirled around to lock eyes with a man thrice her age, possibly more considering the greater life expectancy of wizards.

"Lowell Spencer-Moon," she hummed with an uncomfortably sensual purr. "Deputy head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Recently widowed and nephew of former minister, Leonard Spencer-Moon."

"Huh, so he is," I hummed noncommittally. I knew this song and dance by now.

"Go on then, my little warrior. Who knows? By winter, you might have daddy-number-eight."

"And won't that make the holidays interesting…"

I turned around and boarded the train, doing my level best to suppress that bit of fresh trauma. On the plus side, I had yet one more very good reason to hone my occlumency. Truly, I had a mother who motivated me to greater heights.

X

The interior of the train was… disappointing. I shouldn't have been; I'd been in train cars before and seen the movies, but there was something about the Hogwarts Express that made me set my expectations high. In the end though,the cars were as normal as could be, with eggshell-white walls and eight individual compartments per car.

I walked along the corridor, languidly looking in on any compartments that caught my eye. Most were already occupied by the older students, leaving the last car or two to the first years. Some were studying, others were catching up, and one particularly daring couple was just starting to get frisky and hadn't remembered to draw the curtains. I rapped on the window and gestured to the curtains before moving on.

"Now… Do I want to meet the Chosen One early?" I mused. I could try to use divination to predict which compartment she'd end up in. Train leaves in half an hour. There were only so many compartments available and only a single variable to consider, Violet. Precognition wasn't my forte quite yet, but under such narrow conditions, scrying her future location should be well within my capabilities.

"That sounds creepy as fuck," I told myself with a snort. Why did I even want to meet Violet anyway? Because she was the Chosen One? Passing curiosity would just piss her off and anything more than that on my end felt too much like manipulation, too much like I was heeding mom's advice. Oh, I had no doubt that I'd have to play the political game, I was a Zabini, but that didn't mean I had to start by grooming a fourteen year old girl.

Standards. I had them… sort of…

Just as important as my own moral compass, I couldn't rely on canon to play out as I'd seen. With Harry being Violet and us all being fourteen, things were bound to be different and I wouldn't know what those differences were until they hit me like a wet fish. Hagrid might not have forgotten to teach her how the platform gate works. She might have read about it in Hogwarts: A History. She might meet a different magical family. Or, she might be a typical teenage girl and decide not to enter a compartment with a lone boy in it.

No, finding Violet sounded like a silly thing to do. If canon played out, great. If not, also great. I'd involve myself if I thought it'd amuse me, until it stopped amusing me. All that mattered was that I improved my own divination abilities and set myself up to gather the biggest magical library in the world.

To that end, I found myself an empty compartment and cracked open Divination through the Ages: A brief exploration of the art throughout history, one of several books I'd lifted from my family library. I cracked open the window so Minerva could fly to Hogwarts if she so chose, kicked up my feet, and began to read:

Scrying is ultimately the art of seeing and hearing from remote distances, across space and time, by using the reflective properties of a medium. There is, therefore, no functional difference between a crystal ball, a mirror, and a tranquil lake surface for the purposes of divination. They can all be used in the same manner and once one understands how to use one medium, one understands all the others. That isn't to say there aren't some advantages to certain mediums over others however. I will go over each in general and make my case for why the crystal ball is the greatest of all scrying mediums.

Naturally, the clearer the medium, the better the result, thus a body of water is typically ill-advised. It could work, shamans across cultures have been using still lakes and ponds to practice divination for millennia, but when a single stray wind or falling leaf might disturb your session, suffice to say there are better options.

That isn't to say there is zero advantage to a still pond. Because of the moon's conceptual connection as the "illuminator of darkness," it can greatly empower divination attempts under the right circumstances, such as a full moon reflected upon an unpolluted pond that formed above a natural ley line. Indeed, I would go as far as to say such a locale has the potential to be the single most powerful scrying medium. Though powerful, I consider natural locales such as this to be the least useful for the average diviner because of their unreliability.

Mirrors, though clear, stable, and easily portable, are only middling in their use. This is because unlike the pond which reflects the moon, or "the world" if one must be philosophical, the mirror reflects "the self." It is therefore best used in scrying events that are directly relevant to the self and often provides misleading answers when attempting to scry another.

This is doubly true when one scries a natural event and not, say, a person or creature. Though there is no true consensus on the matter, I believe it to be because the mirror is intrinsically tied to an identity, a sense of self. When the target lacks such, the magic weakens a great deal.

There are ways to mitigate this. Enchantments anchored-

I was brought out of my reading by the sound of my compartment door sliding open. "C-Can I sit here?" I heard someone stammer.

I put down my book and looked at the intruder. He was a chubby, brunette boy who despite our age had yet to shed his baby fat. He kept his hair in a shaggy mess and dragged along a suitcase. I recognized him from a few formal events we'd been forced to attend.

"Longbottom," I greeted the Boy Who Could've Been. "Sit."

"Thanks," he said shyly. He took a seat, took one look at me, and realized whose cabin he'd stepped into. The boy shrank into himself like a shriveled nutsack.

Past-Blaise hadn't bullied him or anything. Never mind anything physical, he hadn't said more than a few words to the Longbottom heir. What he did do was hang around Theodore Nott, Lyra Malfoy, and all the other children of the "dark" faction. He was careful with his words even as a child thanks to Valencia, but he'd certainly chuckled along. Coupled with my mother's reputation, it wasn't exactly surprising that Neville considered me among his bullies.

I could see his eyes darting towards the door. He was probably wondering if I'd take offense and single him out throughout the year if he bolted now. I rolled my eyes. I knew he would find his spine eventually, even go on to lead the resistance in Hogwarts, but whatever valiant man he'd become, he certainly wasn't that now.

I vaguely remembered that he didn't have a happy home life either. Augusta Longbottom was by all accounts an intimidating woman. She expected much of people and I couldn't imagine the bar was any lower for the heir. Neville was treated as a squib for a decent chunk of his childhood before his uncle dropped him from a window. He sure as hell didn't have a support group in the rest of his family.

When I considered that he had an extra three years of that kind of home life, it became painfully obvious to me why he was so skittish.

"Keep it down and let me read in peace, capiche?" I asked rhetorically. Part of me wanted to comfort him, bolster his confidence somehow. The bigger part of me said it wasn't any of my fucking business. His childhood was downright heavenly compared to mine. Besides, any attempts to be kind would feel like a trap to him so I settled for cool ambivalence.

"R-Right. You got it, Zabini."

He rummaged through his suitcase and picked out a book. The compartment fell into silence as the final warning whistle sounded, five minutes now. Judging by how he never flipped a page, the boy was all nerves still.

I ignored him and continued to read:

There are ways to mitigate this. Enchantments anchored onto mirrors through the use of runes and formalcraft can turn the mirror into a highly effective tool. Expensive, alchemically treated silver used as the base for the glass to rest on instead of mere aluminum can likewise make it a better medium, as can quartz over regular glass. Runic inlays can be formed with poured gold or some other material should one need it to perform a specific function. I once saw a mirror made of pure obsidian used by the Inca; it had several unique properties that go beyond the scope of this short primer but suffice to say, it was a very useful tool.

Finally, we come to the crystal ball. Every benefit which can be attributed to the mirror can likewise be attributed to the crystal ball. It is reliable, perfectly clear, and portable, all without any conceptual ties to a sense of self, vanity, or similar. It is a tool designed purely for divination and behaves like it.

Some say that the biggest drawback to a crystal ball is that because it is made up of a single material, it lacks room for customization. However, I beg to differ. This is an advantage more often than not, especially considering just how difficult it is to find a truly masterful enchanter who is both a runemaster and has a clear understanding of the nuances of spell matrices that make up divination spells in particular. Suffice to say, such people are extremely rare and their time proportionally valuable.

That is why, though there are dozens of different means of divination and three in particular most commonly used in scrying, I will focus the following chapter on the humble cryst-

Several minutes later, just as I was coming to the tail end of the preface, the compartment door slid open again.

"Mind if I join you, chaps?" The speaker was yet another boy, but this time obviously muggleborn. He was short-ish with a frizzy mop and a pronounced upper bite. He was also dressed in jeans and a Beatles t-shirt.

I glanced at Neville, then at the newcomer. Maybe he didn't want to give permission because I was here first. Or maybe he was afraid of me for some perceived threat I'd made. I decided to try to send him a subtle message: Blood really meant nothing to me.

I waved the newcomer in with a careless nod. "Sit. Keep it quiet; I'm reading."

He dragged his suitcase inside and plopped down directly across from me. "Oh, that's great. What're you reading? Divination through the Ages? Is it any good? I heard it was a subject we can learn in our third year but it's supposed to be a load of hogwash, not that I won't give it the ol' college try of course. Are you a third year? I'm a first year and it's so exciting, learning magic and all. I couldn't help it and read all the first year coursebooks already. Would you mind lending some of your old books to me if you have them?"

My grip on the tome tightened. Brunette, check. Buck teeth, check. Frizzy hair, never shuts up, clearly way too into books… Check, check, and check. A sinking pit formed in my stomach as reality beat me like a ginger stepchild. I had the sneaking suspicion Fate was laughing her ass off somewhere.

Just to confirm, I said, "In polite company, we introduce ourselves before interrupting people who are trying to read."

"Oh, my bad, chap. I'm Leontes Granger, first year Hogwarts student. I get a little excited about reading; mom says I should curb the enthusiasm just a tad. Call me Leon."

"Neville Longbottom," my initial cabin-mate introduced himself.

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"Zabini. First year. Your mother sounds like a wise lady."

"She is! So… Divination?"

I stared at genderbent-Hermione. I recognized the name of course. How could I not? I was a librarian. Leontes too was a Shakesperean name, the name of Queen Hermione's husband in The Winter's Tale in fact.

I slowly marked the page and closed the book. "Very well. Ask away, Granger."

"Is it?"

"Is it what?"

"Hogwash. I mean, there has to be something to the branch of magic if it's taught in Hogwarts, but when I looked for details on the electives, all the books I read dismissed it."

"That depends on what you think of when you think of divination. What is it?"

"It's the magical art of predicting the future," he said matter-of-factly.

"Good, and which book did you get that from?"

"Hogwarts: A History of course. You should read it if you haven't."

I sighed. "That was sarcasm. While that definition is correct, it's also incomplete. Divination is the art of acquiring information through magical means. Let's say you have your telescope. You brought it for Astronomy, right?"

"Of course."

"Well you'll find that the telescope you purchased in Diagon Alley has been enchanted to improve the magnification of light and to provide better clarity. That enchantment matrix? Divination."

"Oh, I hadn't thought of that. I don't think that was covered in-"

"It wasn't covered because permanent enchantment is a field reserved for NEWT-level students. If Hogwarts: A History addresses the subject, it's likely just a small part and probably not mentioned alongside divination at all. Another use of divination is, say, a spell to let you hear things better."

"So it doesn't have to be trying to predict the future. I really want to read that book now."

"Perhaps another time," I evaded.

Neville looked between me and Leontes like he couldn't believe what was going on. Blaise Zabini, a pureblood, was talking to a muggleborn and had yet to utter a single threat or insult. He shifted in his seat and I saw his eyes widen in shock.

I thought it was because of something we did, but he began to pat himself down. Then, when he didn't find whatever he was looking for, he lifted his trunk back down and began to rummage through it.

"Neville?" Leontes asked. "Are you okay?"

"Trevor? Trevor's gone!"

"Who's Trevor?"

"My toad is missing."

"Longbottom, if your toad isn't on your person or in your trunk, it stands to reason he's somewhere in the car," I replied. "Were you in any other train car before settling on this one?"

"N-No."

I stood. On one hand, I could just tell them to find a prefect and summon Trevor. But on the other hand, if Fate wanted to throw canon in my face like this, I figured I may as well go meet the Girl Who Lived. I had to admit to being quite curious. "Well come on, then. Let's go find Trevor before he finds a kneazle. Or an owl like Minerva here."

"Y-You'll help me?"

"This promises to be entertaining."

The two boys followed me out. Neville still looked a little bewildered by my unforeseen assistance; I had a lot of work to do if I wanted to step out of my mother's shadow. Leontes on the other hand, showed zero hesitation and marched up to the nearest compartment before yanking the door open.

He peered inside and said, "Hello, pardon me. Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville lost his."

"No, get out, firstie!" I heard before the compartment door clattered shut. One of the upper years who wanted a rear compartment then.

"Well, that was rude."

I strolled by and saw Lyra Malfoy talking to Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis. As if to prove that some things never changed, Heath Parkinson sat to Lyra's right, doing his level best to get her attention. I tapped the wall before Leontes could reach for the door handle. "Not this one. Move on."

"What? We should check all the compartments. That's the logical thing to do."

"What's wrong?" Neville asked.

"Malfoy and Parkinson. Greengrass and Davis aren't so bad but if you want to deal with them, then leave me out."

Neville grabbed Leontes by the arm and started to drag him down the corridor. "Zabini is right. We can leave that cabin for last."

"What? They're just talking in there," he protested, but seeing how we both shoved him on, he let out a huff and tagged along.

We went down a few more compartments until we arrived at the last one. Susan Bones and Hannah Abbot sat with Lisa Turpin; they were nice enough to promise to pass Trevor on if they found him. Dean Thomas, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Terry Boot, and Anthony Goldstein all shared a cabin and one of the boys was explaining Exploding Snap to Justin, the muggleborn among them. They hadn't seen Trevor either.

The last cabin in the car contained three girls, a pair of brown-skinned twins and a raven-haired girl who seemed a tad skinnier than she perhaps should be. At her side was a snowy owl, which made it easy to guess who this was.

"So the Patils twins met her first," I hummed under my breath. An interesting change, but not something I didn't expect. I didn't know exactly who she'd be with, but I assumed it wouldn't be Ron this time around. "Should be interesting…"

A lot could have happened between Violet stepping onto the platform and settling in with Ron. She could have been invited by the Patils before she found an empty cabin. Or maybe the Patils invited themselves and Ron decided he didn't want to sit with three girls. Or perhaps Fred and George took more time showing him Lee Jordan's tarantula than in canon.

"You know them?" Neville asked.

"You don't?" I asked back in genuine surprise. I assumed Augusta Longbottom would have ensured he knew every pureblood family name. "Light" or not, she was still fairly traditionalist in mannerism. "Pureblood family from India. Their father's a master enchanter who sells high-end textiles abroad. Their uncle's the Indian Ministry's Head of Foreign Affairs."

"Ah… I think that sounds familiar?"

"Well we should say hello." Leontes opened the door and poked his head inside. "Hello, has anyone seen a toad? Neville lost his."

I took the chance to lean against the door and take a closer look at the Chosen One.

Everyone in the wizarding world knew Dumbledore had taken custody of her. Some bought the tripe written in her "biographies" and expected a gallant heroine off to slay dragons before her first year. Others thought she'd be raised as a princess, given all the best our world had to offer. Entitled? Or maybe a political mastermind? Or, a beautiful maiden ready to be wooed by the right pureblood? She wasn't any of those things, but she wasn't what I expected either.

As far as I knew, Harry was abused, not just emotionally but physically. There was a point in canon when Petunia beat him with a frying pan for burning the bacon or some other inane reason. I expected similar here, a fourteen year old girl who'd spent most of her life sleeping in a stairwell closet, a very literal modern day Cinderella. Did the genderswap make her more a sympathetic figure? Or did it trigger Petunia's envy even worse?

I thought I'd find a malnourished waif of a girl dressed in Petunia's baggy hand-me-downs, maybe with a sweater to hide the bruises. I expected her to have the eyes of a scared rabbit and loathe physical contact. I expected to find an abuse victim. It was something I'd come to terms with. There wasn't much I could have done over the past month and even less chance of convincing Valencia to help. To be Violet was to suffer and I'd accepted it as a fact of life as sure as the rising sun.

That wasn't what I found.

She sensed my gaze on her and her eyes snapped up to meet mine. They were large, made all the larger by her glasses. In those pools of green, I saw not a shred of hesitation or fear. Instead, I saw defiance and spite; I saw someone who was used to getting shit on by everyone and decided that she'd rather throw the first punch than get shoved around.

Her outfit was likewise unexpected. The first thing I noticed, besides her scar and trademark "Lily's eyes," was the piercings in her ears. She wore diamond studs on her lobes and rings on her upper helix. Around each piercing was a hint of scar tissue, implying she got those done in a back alley or did them herself.

Around her neck was a lace choker with torn edges, probably ripped out of another garment rather than purchased. Instead of Petunia or Dudley's baggy hand-me-downs, she wore a black, tight-fitting t-shirt with a faded, bubblegum-pink butterfly design stretched across her chest. A pair of dark jeans and a studded belt wrapped around her hips. In her hand was a wand, presumably holly and phoenix feather, as well as a pair of fingerless gloves.

She looked, in a word, like a punk. Or at least, what an abused, isolated teenage girl would consider "punk."

"Take a picture; it'll last longer," she spat.

"You… are different," I admitted quietly. This was a good thing, especially considering the alternatives. I turned to greet the Patil twins. Padma was reading a book while Parvati seemed to be in the middle of lecturing Violet on fashion. "Patils, right? Blaise Zabini."

Parvati waved awkwardly. "Aren't you…"

"The son of an alleged serial killer," I finished for her. "Why, yes, yes I am."

"Wait, seriously?" It was Leontes who spoke up. "Your dad killed people?"

"Considering my old man lived through Grindelwald and World War Two, yes. He's definitely killed people. That part isn't really up for debate, but nor is that what she's talking about. It's my mother who's the alleged serial killer if you must know."

"You seem… cavalier about this," Padma said carefully.

I shrugged carelessly. "Ehh, everyone knows it. People who grew up in the wizarding world are going to be suspicious of me because of who my mother is. Can't do anything about it so I may as well get used to clearing the air."

"Oh, that was really rude of Parvati, wasn't it? I apologize on behalf of my sister."

"Hey, I didn't say it," the more energetic twin said with a pout.

"But you thought it and made it super obvious."

I shrugged. "Don't mind it; that was a natural reaction. More importantly, toad named Trevor. Longbottom lost him. Have you seen him around? If Snowball over there ate him, let us know so we don't waste time looking."

"Hedwig," Violet said. She reached out a hand and stroked the ornery owl as the bird glowered at me. "Her name is Hedwig, not Snowball. And I'm Violet."

"Padma Patil."

"Parvati Patil. And sorry, we haven't seen any toads."

I noticed Violet didn't give her last name. She'd likely cottoned on to the mess that was being a celebrity already. Unfortunately, Leontes was as bright as Hermione and he connected the dots rather quickly.

"Violet? As in Violet Potter? Oh! I read all about you!"

"Yeah? You want a medal?"

"Is it true that you-"

"Fought off a dementor and saved a fairy who took me into Albion where I studied magic for a hundred years in a day?" she said, voice tinged with excitement and pride.

"Yes!"

"No," she said flatly. "Are you stupid? Were you born this way or were you dropped on your head as a child?"

"Hehehe," I chuckled as Leontes sputtered. This little trek around the train was worthwhile just to see this. They were great entertainment if nothing else. Violet Potter was turning out to be quite the variable, and in a good way.

"What're you laughing at, chuckle-fuck?"

"Forgive Granger. He's very curious about the magical world. He was interrogating me on the nuances of divination before we started this little scavenger hunt."

Parvati perked up. "You're studying divination?"

"Independently, yes."

"Ooh, do you have the Sight?"

"I'd like to think so. Any interest in the subject?"

"Yeah! I mean, why not learn, right? Imagine knowing who your true love is. Or how to make yourself lucky. Or when you're going to die so you can prevent it."

Padma sighed and interrupted her sister. "Or, you can spend a decade learning an art that you have zero talent in. You either have the Sight or you don't. And we don't. Patils haven't been seers in all three thousand years of our existence."

"Hey, you never know. Seer bloodlines have to have started somewhere. What do you think, Zabini?"

This was clearly a longstanding argument between the two. I vaguely remembered Parvati and Lavender taking divination in third year so her showing some interest in the subject beforehand made sense. "Leave me out of your sibling spats, please. All I know is I'm a seer. That's all that matters to me."

"Liar," Padma accused. "Seers are really rare. In fact, you wouldn't even know if you were one because seers don't remember their own prophecies."

"Is that right?"

"Yup. I think you're having us on."

I smiled glibly. She wasn't wrong, the CYOA just made me an abnormality. I wanted recognition, to be known as the greatest seer of all, and what better time to start building a reputation for myself than now? I figured I may as well sow the seeds and tapped into my magic. Suddenly, I was hearing their conversation five seconds ahead. I began to speak conversationally, repeating everything I heard as they spoke in the real world.

"Well, he was reading a book on divination," Leontes said.

"Yeah, so? That doesn't mean he has the Sight. He's probably interested in it like my sister."

"Hey, guys, umm… I'm going to go find a prefect so I can get Trevor back," Neville said before shuffling away.

"Lovely meeting y-"

"Holy crap, Padma, he's saying what we're saying!"

"Yeah, I noticed," the smarter sister said with a scowl. "Stop copying us. It doesn't prove you're a seer."

"Wait, isn't he saying the words before you do? He is!" Parvati exclaimed. I walked into the cabin and took a seat next to Violet and across from Padma so I could better look at her changing expressions. Leontes squeezed in next to the twins and closed the door behind him. The chipper twin had a huge grin on her face. "Do you have the Sight?"

"Doesn't prove anything. It's a good trick, but just a trick. Watch: Mera naam Padma Patil hai. main Ravenclaw banna chaahati hoon," Padma said in a foreign language. She looked smug for about a second before she realized I said the same thing she'd said, and a whole second faster than she did. "No way… That was Hindi…"

"Oh, was it?" I asked with a grin that wouldn't melt butter. "It feels a bit strange on the tongue. What did I say?"

"You said, 'My name is Padma Patil. I want to be a Ravenclaw.'"

"Huh. Neat. Sorry if I butchered your native language, Patil."

"Either you're lying and you speak Hindi, or I'm wrong and this isn't some predictive mind game."

I waggled my eyebrows. "Who knows? So, Ravenclaw, huh? Ever consider Gryffindor? Your sister's probably going there."

"Really?" Parvati asked. "Like, for real? You saw it?"

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm just messing with you and you're going to end up in Ravenclaw, doomed to forever be cooped up in a tower studying like your sister."

"That would be awful."

"Hey! Ravenclaw is a perfectly respectable house," Padma protested. She shot me a judging glare. "And don't think I don't know what you're doing. No changing the subject. Do you have the Sight?"

"Signs point to yes."

"A yes or no would be great, Zabini."

"Reply hazy, try again later."

"Ugh, Blaise is copying magic eight ball responses," Leontes groaned. "It's a muggle fortune-telling toy."

"Zabini, Granger. In the wizarding world, unless you are close friends, lovers, or family, you use a person's family name to address them. We're not that close," I corrected him. He'd probably get shit for it if I didn't. He'd get shit anyway, but if he made a basic effort to fit in with wizarding culture, he'd be less likely to get singled out. "And who says that muggle contraption is useless?"

"I mean… Isn't it?"

"Better not tell you now."

"More eight ball responses? Really?"

"It is certain."

Violet, who'd been watching carefully, let out a snort of laughter. "Is it just the future? Or can you also see the past?"

"Not everyone who has the Sight is equal, kind of like how not everyone has perfect vision. Either your eyes are opened or shut, but the clarity varies from person to person. A lot of things depend on the medium, what spell you're using, what you're searching for, or even the position of the planets, stars, and moon. But yes, it's theoretically possible for someone to see into the past."

Parvati spoke up. "Ooh, can you tell me what house will have the cutest boys?"

I couldn't help it. I flipped my bangs like the pompous ass I was. "Slytherin, because I'm going there."

"Someone's humble," Violet rolled her eyes.

"I am. Now are you convinced I am a seer?"

"Maybe. Tell me something no one knows about me."

I stared at her pointedly. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure." Her reply was immediate. It was good to know she was as reckless as her male counterpart.

"No, because there are a lot of things that you'd actually feel uncomfortable about," I said reasonably. She must have thought back on her life because her face became an unhealthy red. "There is something harmless however: You have a neighbor named Arabella Figg. And if that doesn't convince you, just remember: Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak."

"I-Yeah… Thanks. I believe you now."

"No problem, Potter. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go get changed into my school robes."

"No, wait," Parvati called, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nonsense, sister," Padma drolled. "He means nonsense."

"I'll have you know I make as much sense as Albus Dumbledore," I sniffed pompously. "You'll see. And just remember, my services are for sale. Now I really must be getting changed."

"Oh, right, you left your owl in our cabin," Leontes said.

"Minerva's a big girl. She probably left through the window anyway."

"We still need to grab our stuff."

"We don't. Leave it to the house elves, Granger. Just grab your robes."

"What are house elves? I read about them but there wasn't much in Hogwarts: A History to say for sure. Are they like a type of brownie?"

I sighed as I stood back up. Dick or no dick, Hermione was as hungry for knowledge as ever. If I was honest, it was getting a little annoying. Hopefully I could ditch him soon.

Author's Note

There must be karmic balance. If Harry gets swapped, so does Hermione. Lyra and Heath have the same relationship here as they did in canon, which is to say, not-Pansy is still thirsty as fuck. I guess he's a simp now (lol).

I'm probably forgetting a lot of canon, I read the books over a decade ago. I realized as I was writing that I'm effectively no better than the people who write fanfiction about Worm without ever having read it. Canon and fanon have fully merged into an amorphous blob in my mind.

Animal facts… Shit, umm… kinda put myself on the spot because I didn't have one when I originally put this up on Pat-re-on. Have something disturbing: Adelie penguins can and will fuck absolutely anything vaguely penguin-shaped. Chicks? Fine. Females? Consent is a human construct. Dead penguin carcasses? Yup.

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.