Chapter 9: The Value of Time

Blaise Zabini

Hogwarts, Great Britain

I shifted in my seat long enough to shoot Lyra a smug grin. I didn't know if she knew she called McGonagall's animagus form mangy, but she'd expected me to be punished. I did not.

Was it petty of me to rub it in? Absolutely. But I was fourteen now, sort of, and I'd revel in permissible immaturity.

Professor McGonagall gave her speech about the many wonders and dangers of transfiguration. She was a stern disciplinarian, stalking about and demanding the attention and respect due to a jaguar in a henhouse. To be fair to her, she was right; transfiguration was fucking dangerous.

The summary was simple: Don't fuck around. Don't consume transfigured things. Most importantly, Don't attempt human, gaseous, or other particle transfiguration.

Apparently, there was always some idiot every year who thought it'd be funny to transfigure a book or quill into a cookie. Permanent transfiguration was damn hard and a subset of Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration said food couldn't be made from non-food items. It didn't take a genius to figure out what happened when that cookie transformed back.

After her customary but well-warranted warnings, we were presented with a matchstick so we could attempt to turn it into a needle. Why matchsticks? Apparently, there was some symbolic significance in being "an object to catalyze fire" while simultaneously being something muggleborns and purebloods would equally find familiar. When I asked about it, she brushed me off and told me the arithmancy would be covered in third year if I so chose.

I pointed my wand at my matchstick and took a deep breath. As she said, all spells were about incantation, wandwork, and focus. Calling on the pool of magic within, I imagined the needle and cast, only to find nothing had changed.

Perhaps a simple point A to point B approach was incorrect. I began to deconstruct the properties of the match, taking into account its physical dimensions, composition, and all the ways it differed from a needle. I focused on changing one thing at a time and smiled as the match began to elongate and narrow just a bit.

Shape. Then color. Then texture. Add some luster.

Halfway through, I heard McGonagall speak. "Well done, Miss Malfoy, Miss Greengrass. Five points to Slytherin each."

I turned to find that, sure enough, the two had finished. A dainty sewing needle sat before each of them. Daphne nodded politely as if her performance was the most natural thing in the world. Her expression said this wasn't an accomplishment, merely the fulfillment of expectations.

Lyra, on the other hand, tried to meet as many eyes as she could, as if to declare herself superior to us all. She sent me a challenging smirk, returning my earlier dig.

I turned back to my own work. Though I had no drawbacks in transfiguration, I had a feeling this wouldn't be where I excelled. I was no Hermione, who managed the transformation on her first try. Nor was I the two princesses, who'd likely received tutoring, at least on the theory of magic if not the full first year curriculum.

A wand of silver lime was never going to be one for power or overt displays of magic, Ollivander said so, but it had its own strengths. Where it'd falter in power, it'd excel in subtlety. Piece by piece, step by step, that was the way. So long as I kept that in mind, and observed the flow of magic as others attempted the spell, I believed I could perform any spell in the end.

"I am finished, professor," I called, four minutes later. During that time, Su Li, a tiny slip of a girl in Ravenclaw, had also completed the task and was awarded three points. I slid the needle across the desk, presenting it to McGonagall for inspection.

"So you have, Mr. Zabini. A point to Slytherin," she said with a curt nod. The jocular mood of my little prank was gone now, replaced with Hogwarts' most stringent disciplinarian. "I noticed you took longer to cast a spell."

"I did. I found it helpful to break down the changes that need to be made: Shape, color, texture, luster, and the like."

"Good. If you cannot tackle a problem, find a different angle. You'll often be rewarded with greater understanding for your efforts."

"Thank you, professor."

"Attempt to switch it back. Then try to streamline the process."

"Yes, professor."

As she walked away, Padma looked thoughtfully at me. She then turned back to her matchstick. She sucked in one cheek; I could see her jaw moving up and down, nibbling on the inside of her mouth as she focused. With her brow curled and her nose tweaked up, her concentrating face looked adorable.

"Gloat, Zabini. Get it out of the way," she huffed.

"I wasn't going to."

"Then why are you staring at me?"

"You're cute," I said honestly. "I'm serious. You make interesting facial expressions."

She didn't blush like a stereotypical teenage girl. Instead, her eyes narrowed in judgment. "Shut up."

"You don't believe me?"

"Get back to work. I'm still mad at you."

"For getting you house points?"

"You knew exactly what you were doing," she hissed.

"I did." There was no point in denying it after all. Right now, the twins and Violet knew me best.

"Prat."

"Never denied it."

"Ugh. Just do your work."

"Yes, ma'am."

I smiled when I saw Padma's matchstick gain a bit of metallic luster. She'd taken the step by step approach as well. A minute later, she had her own needle.

She leaned back with a satisfied smile. "Hah, I got it too."

"Never doubted you."

"What do you have after lunch?"

"Charms with the puffs. You?"

"History. Any sage advice?"

"We haven't had history yet, sorry."

"Yes, because that's stopped you before."

"I could tell you what to expect… for a sickle."

Padma let out a put-upon sigh but placed a sickle on the desk and slid it over. "Fine."

"You will have history with the Gryffindors," I said with a straight face.

"Give me my money back."

"I told you what to expect."

"Zabini."

"Why does every woman I know talk to me in that tone?"

"Gee, I wonder why. Sickle. Now."

I chuckled and slid the coin back. "Fine, and have this one for free: History's a waste of time. Cuthbert Binns recites the same lectures as when he was alive so they're outdated at best. He's also prone to napping off in his own class and won't notice if you choose to do the same. In fact, he won't even remember your name even if you do manage to pay attention."

"That can't be right. I know he's a ghost but…"

"Seer's advice: Bring independent study materials. Or a pillow."

"You're not messing with me?"

"You lose nothing by listening."

"Fine. And thanks."

"You're welcome, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to charge you for advice next time."

"A sickle? Still kinda pricey, don't you think?"

"At bare minimum, and only because I like you. The price varies since each question is bespoke. I'll also accept other forms of payment."

"Oh, really? Like what?"

"Knowledge in all its forms. Could be juicy gossip. Could be valuable intel. Could be books from home. We'll have to talk about what my help is worth."

She snorted. "You should've been a raven."

I shook my head ruefully. A sickle wasn't cheap, but it wasn't unaffordable for most. I wanted to build a reputation as an information broker so that, hopefully when she trusted me more, I could start asking for interesting grimoires.

Was there such a thing as Sanskrit runes? Did parselmouths in India develop language-specific spells? How much of the muggle myths of Hindi rishi were accurate? What was the enchanting process for magic carpets and how did that differ from the process for brooms? Did rishi use different star charts for divination or rituals than in the west? Why?

I didn't know, but all of that sounded fascinating.

"I belong with the snakes. Alas, you must learn to live without my constant company. It'll be hard, but you must persevere, Patil."

"Ugh, and we were having such a normal conversation," she moaned.

X

Lunch was a much lighter fare than what was presented at the feast. Rather than roasts, meat pies, and hearty stews, we had sandwiches filled with chicken, cucumber, and watercress. I found myself sitting towards the edge of the long table again, hoping to catch a quick nap before charms with the puffs.

Unfortunately, that was a luxury that was denied me. Tracey Davis once again seated herself in front of me and started loading her plate with little sandwiches and other finger foods. "You're awful chummy with the Patil girl."

"Yes? Does the notion that I have friends bother you, Davis?"

"It does, actually. Poor girl. I should warn her."

I let out an exaggerated sigh. "Oh no, you've ruined my dastardly plans… whatever they were… Shouldn't you be with your cousin over there?"

Tracey's face went through a myriad of complicated emotions before eventually settling on forced indifference. "She's off chatting up Runcorn."

I heard the implication. It wouldn't be polite to say, but she did start needling first. "And you've voluntarily recused yourself from the conversation because you fear your blood status will keep Greengrass making an ally among the girls."

"Shut it, Zabini."

"That wasn't an insult. I'm honestly a little jealous of how you two look after each other." She remained silent at that so I continued. "Question is, why here? Why me?"

"You know, I'm starting to ask myself that too."

"I was under the impression you rather disliked me."

"You thought right."

I took a lazy bite of my sandwich, chewed, and made a show of looking her up and down. "So ask."

"What?"

"You hate my guts. And I can admit that you are justified to feel that way."

"Merlin, are you… apologizing?" she gasped. I didn't know what stung more, the remnants of old-Blaise's pride at being spoken to this way by a half-blood, or that she sounded so genuinely surprised.

I rolled my eyes. "If you'll let me, yes, Davis. I would like to thank you for lending me your shoulder last night and formally apologize for the things I said about you. They were uncalled for and misinformed."

"I… What's your game?"

"Nothing, but I do realize you're not going to believe that, so you may consider this a moment of weakness caused by gratitude for yesterday if that suits your image of me better."

"It does, actually."

"Then take advantage of it while it lasts. Ask."

"Who says I want anything from you?"

"Don't be obtuse; you're smarter than this. You're not here to demand an apology from me, not one you didn't know to expect. You can barely stand me. I'm quite sure that you'd rather sit with another house or skip lunch than sit in my little corner. Which means you, or more likely, Greengrass, think I can help you with something."

The way she scrunched her nose made her look constipated. I was polite enough to not point that out. "I was hoping you'd be dumber."

"Ah, but wit is a part of my charm."

"Charm? I don't think you know what that word means, Zabini."

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

"I do so love a girl who's willing to sass me back."

"I think I'm going to gag," she groaned, putting her half-eaten sandwich on the plate. Despite her protests, the mutual bitchfest was important; it allowed me to let her take things at her own pace, assistance in a way she'd find socially acceptable. After a moment, she spoke, "I want information."

"Everyone wants information. This is a school." I held out my palms in mock surrender at her venomous glare. "Alright, fair enough, no more of my asinine snark. Find me after history in the library and I'll hear you out."

"Fine. Pleasure doing business with you."

"We haven't done any business," I pointed out sardonically. "And if you're going to lie, lie better."

"Prick," she huffed.

"See? That's more honest. I do think I like you better when you speak your mind."

"Just… Shut up…"

X

The rest of the day passed in a blur.

Charms was charms: Flitwick was a tiny, bubbly mass of good cheer and charms knowledge. He truly was an excellent teacher, lumos was a laughably easy spell, and the puffs had already begun to treat us snakes like actual snakes. The way they huddled around each other like circling bison forming defensive rings around the herd was honestly kind of cute. Already, Zacharias Smith and Susan Bones were emerging as leaders of our year's puff-pack.

Then came astronomy, which was, sad to say, disgustingly boring. Professor Sinistra was a gorgeous woman with dusky skin and long, teased hair. She'd apparently studied at Uagadou, the pan-African school of magic, before earning her mastery and moving here to teach. She'd been at this school for five years and appeared to be a no-nonsense sort not unlike our deputy headmistress.

Unfortunately, her personal background was the only interesting thing about the class so far. With the lack of a night sky, we were stuck looking through our astronomy textbook for common constellations. It was mostly rote memorization, which was highly unfortunate as I suspected I'd be needing this class in my capacity as seer sooner rather than later.

Our final class of the day, history, was exactly as I'd promised Padma. Which meant I pulled out a pillow from my bookbag and was off to dreamland in seconds.

I did not hear the last bell of the day. In fact, I only woke up when I felt someone shaking me violently by the shoulder.

I lifted bleary eyes to find Daphne's cross face. She was admittedly very pretty, though the death glare she was shooting me, I could've done without. "This really isn't how you go about asking for help, princess."

"Don't call me princess."

"Did I sleep through the last bell? Where is everyone?"

"They tried to wake you, but you bit Goyle."

"Ah, that does sound like me," I said with a laugh. "And so they left me behind. It's the last class of the day so it's not like I'm bothering anyone. You stuck around?"

"As if," Tracey said with an unladylike snort. "We went back to the common room and did our homework before coming back. Do you realize that dinner's started already?"

I glanced at the clock. It was five-thirty. "So it has. Wonderful."

"You said you'd meet us in the library, Zabini," Daphne said accusingly, "I didn't realize your word meant so little."

"You're really not good at asking for favors, are you?"

She studied me closely before taking a deep, calming breath. It was impressive how her entire visage changed subtly. It was like she was a whiteboard and someone had simply wiped the annoyance from her face.

She now wore a placid, downright friendly smile. Gorgeous. Perfect. And I immediately felt bad for her. A fourteen year old girl shouldn't have to know how to do that. "Apologies, Zabini. You're right. Let's start over."

I stood and stretched, taking the opportunity to look the two girls over. Tracey wasn't near as good at masking her emotions, but she tried for her cousin's sake. She couldn't quite pull off being friendly so she settled on blank detachment.

I decided to let it go. No matter what, I did need to start building a network. Padma was a good start in Ravenclaw, and I suspected Parvati was doing the work for me in Gryffindor considering how interested she was in divination in canon, but I did need to start in-house as well. And, truth be told, I did like these two. That they cared so deeply for each other showed character, character that Lyra lacked.

I began walking out, my pimp cane making rhythmic taps along the ground. "Well, come on then. Let's go grab dinner before we head to the library."

"Very well."

"A galleon," I said as I started walking down the stairs. The history classroom was on the third floor. "Give me a galleon each."

"You haven't even heard my request yet."

"I know, this is something else. Typically, I'd charge a sickle as the base price and go up from there, but this one can serve you in good stead for all seven years. Not life-changing or anything, but it'll make your school years more convenient."

"We didn't ask," Tracey said.

I turned and faced them, hand held out expectantly. The cousins looked at each other, a silent conversation I wasn't privy to passed between them. Tracey looked like she wanted to protest, but Daphne fished out two golden coins from her breast pocket and placed them in my hand.

"Thank you," I nodded. It wasn't necessary, two galleons were chump change to both Daphne and I, but it established our relationship more firmly. "Now, come along."

To their surprise, I veered away from the great hall.

"Weren't we going to dinner?"

"We are."

The great hall was framed by two sets of stairs that led to the basement. One was the dungeons, which included the Slytehrin common room, potions classroom, and Snape's office. By process of elimination, the badgers' burrow had to be located down the other stairway.

We arrived at a large, open hallway. It was brightly lit with torches and lined with an array of paintings, all of them food-themed. I saw a reconstructed cow made of different roasts, a tap dancing chicken, and a banana sunbathing on a beach. There were more, some appetizing and others just plain weird.

I stopped at the painting of a plain bowl of fruit. There were dozens of different fruits painted in near photo-realistic detail, but the green pear at about waist-height was the one that caught my eye.

"Here we are," I said with a cheery grin. "I promised dinner, so dinner we shall have."

"I've heard we eat with our eyes, but this seems a tad excessive, Zabini," Daphne drawled.

"Lovely and witty? Be still my beating heart."

She looked thoroughly unamused with my flirting. "Why are we here?"

I grinned as I reached out and began to stroke the pear. "Why, to eat of course. Or really, to grab something on the go."

"I am seriously reconsidering your worth."

"Well don't." The pear giggled, making them fixate on it. Then, to their wonder, it morphed into a handle. I twisted into a flourishing bow as I opened the door. "My lovely ladies, may I present the Hogwarts kitchens!"

"What? How?"

"I know things, Greengrass. It's my thing. If you're ever in need of a late night snack, or maybe something for a picnic out on the lake when spring comes, or just a cup of hot cocoa in the winter, you now know where to go."

"Something to make our lives more convenient for seven years," Daphne hummed with a small smile.

"Worth a galleon? Eh? Eh?" I asked rhetorically, eyebrows waggling.

"Stop that. Can't you at least pretend to have some decorum?"

"Hmm… Nah. There's a time and place for all that stuffy nonsense. Now come on, let's ask them for a sandwich."

X

The Hogwarts elves were a delight. Not a one could say our names, but that constipated look on Daphne's face when the head elf called her "Missy Gassy" was a special little memory I'd hold over her head forever. They were so earnest and helpful that it was impossible to stay mad at them, even Daphne.

After loading up on dinner and snacks, I led the two to the library. Finding it wasn't hard; not only was it located on the ground floor, its location was written on the backs of our schedules for the particularly dim-witted.

The three of us nodded respectfully to Madam Pince and found a secluded corner. They'd finished their homework, but I had not so I started on what little had been assigned while they ate. I'd get to my food later.

Daphne was the one to start us off. "You really are a seer. Or you are unexpectedly resourceful."

"They're the same thing for your purposes, Greengrass," I said as I worked. "So, what can I help you with?"

She didn't hesitate. "The monthly leaderboard. I want the top spot."

"Oh? I can't say I'm surprised. I don't know what miracle you think I can pull out of my ass, but Salazar Slytherin's enchantments are a bit above my paygrade."

"Don't be daft, Zabini. I want opportunities to earn house points. I want chances to demonstrate my cunning and improve my standing in the house, both among our yearmates and with the seniors."

"You'll show the castle or sorting hat or whatever how cunning you are by… following someone else's advice?"

"If that advice is from a seer and offered in good faith, then yes."

"Fair enough. You do understand I'm not cheap, yes?

"A galleon is reasonable."

"Nope. Nice try, though. I charged a galleon for the location of the kitchens because that's information that other students know and could tell you if you knew to start looking. Moreover, it's not information that'll greatly impact your performance or standing in the house, though I suppose you could sell the information yourself if you wanted. Like I said, just something to make life a bit more pleasant for you."

"The suite will-"

"Make life more pleasant, yes, but this is a finite good that other people want. Whereas anyone can visit the kitchens and it won't diminish the quality of service from the house elves, there is only one suite per year per gender. And we both know the private suite isn't as valuable as standing in the house."

"Very well, name your price," she said with a sigh. It was unlike her, and judging by Tracey's glare, she knew it.

Question was, why did she want it so much? She had a bitter rivalry with Lyra, but was that really it? "You're competing against Malfoy."

Daphne looked like she sucked on a lemon. For the briefest moment, her eyes darted to her cousin. Tracey glared down at her sandwich without a word, but her balled fists were answer enough.

It struck me then. Daphne might not be interested in winning for herself. Lyra acted like excellence, power, and recognition were her birthright. She was a pureblood and so deserved all the best. The entitled princess probably loathed the thought of spending even a month sleeping with a half-blood. I could only imagine what words were said in the girls' dorm last night.

Tracey winning would make her the subject of bullying, if she wasn't already. How dare a half-blood put herself above her betters? But if Greengrass won and invited her cousin to stay with her, then that'd be more socially palatable.

"What has Malfoy offered you?" Daphne demanded, all but confirming my thoughts. She wasn't interested in standing, just the suite. "I can offer more."

Still, I was curious. Perhaps it was cruel to push a girl just looking out for her cousin, but… "No you can't."

"I'm willing to offer more. Malfoy is a cheapskate. She'll string you along until she has no need of you, then toss you aside like yesterday's trash."

"And you won't?"

"I know how to treat my business partners."

I decided to let up on them. "You can't offer more than Malfoy because Malfoy hasn't made an offer at all. Your reaction told me a fair bit though."

"You-"

"Are a Slytherin, Greengrass. I'm not opposed to helping you win the suite, but you understand that simply letting her win would remove her from the dorm too, right?"

"That changes nothing. Blustrode follows her orders like a loyal attack dog and letting her gain more status in the house won't make Tracey's life better in the long run."

"Daph-" Tracey protested.

"Don't bother, he knows."

"I do," I agreed, "and I'll help you."

"Just like that?"

"I told Davis already. I admire this about you, both of you. The way you're willing to look out for each other? It's touching in a way. And, if I'm honest, I do enjoy tweaking Malfoy's nose."

Daphne's mouth twitched into a smile. Brief, but it was there. "Good, so let's talk business then."

"Any specific questions?"

"I… I admit I'm not sure what I can ask you."

"Expected. Divination isn't all-powerful of course. Remember how I was yesterday?" A part of that was from standing so long and the remnants of the crucio symptoms, but another part was magical exhaustion. Not enough for it to be a concern, but enough that I really wasn't functioning at my best.

"Your guessing game."

"Yup. Individually not difficult, but over the whole sorting? I also did a few things before on the train that contributed."

"Which means your divination is a finite good, and thus more expensive."

"Quite. Now, let me think."

I set aside my homework for the time being, not like there was much of it on the first day, and munched on my sandwich. The elves really were great; I didn't even know they had Italian cold cuts here. The way I saw things, there were a few things I could tell her.

First, I planned to cheat in all my classes. The thing about the Sight that made precognition so "wooly" was that us seers weren't supercomputers. Even when we remembered our visions, we weren't actually good at isolating and accounting for different variables. So the further off the future, the more variables, the more variables, the less accurate we our visions.

That much was fairly intuitive. It also meant that if there were ways for me to remove these variables, or if I searched for information with a more limited outcome, I would see much more success.

Such as classes. Classes in which tenured professors repeated their curriculum year after year. Classes with comparatively little variance.

If I took my crystal ball and tried to scry tomorrow's homework today, I'd succeed, partly due to familiarity, I've been in that class and knew that professor, and partly because professors were human (half in Flitwick's case) and humans were creatures of habit.

I could give Daphne a list of future assignments so she could have more time to tackle them. She was smart, old-Blaise knew that, so even an extra day to collect her thoughts would likely result in straight Os.

Second, I could just give her the answers. If I could scry coursework, why not scry the answers too? It wasn't like I could scry every homework assignment that would be turned in tomorrow for every single class, that sounded like a guaranteed trip to Madam Pomfrey, but I didn't need all of them, just one.

Granger. I knew Hermione was brilliant. I suspected Lupin was exaggerating when he called her the "cleverest witch of her age," but there was no denying that she was genuinely an intelligent woman. From what I knew of Leontes, he mirrored her character.

"Alright, first things first. Do you want classwork?" I asked her. "I can give you tomorrow's assignments so you can work on them early. Or I can just give you the answers."

She snorted. It was a dainty sound, a bit like those squeaky not-sneezes that "refined" ladies tried to do. "No thank you, Zabini. I believe I will be quite capable of keeping up with the coursework on my own. Perhaps Crabbe and Goyle might be interested."

"They have nothing I want," I said with a laugh. Like Daphne said, I doubted I'd need to copy future-Leontes either, at least not until our OWLs and NEWTs, so scrying future classes would be mostly for practice rather than any tangible gain.

Although, if I ever wanted two patsies. I could probably bribe them with the answers.

"Let's talk prestige. Will there be an opportunity to one-up Malfoy this week? And if not, can I make such an opportunity?"

That was the third thing I could sell her: canon knowledge. It'd be increasingly unreliable as the years went on of course, but by then, my own magical capacity and talent would hopefully be ready to pick up the slack. For now, the canon train was on track, all the more reason to abuse it for my benefit while I could.

"Like this morning in transfiguration?"

"Yes. You knew Professor McGonagall would be busy and that her cat would be there to greet us."

I coughed to stifle a laugh. "Yes, something like that."

"I want a chance to assert myself as the best in our year, at least among the girls, or a chance to discredit Malfoy. I would also be satisfied with something that could win over the older years as well."

"Just wait then. Malfoy is proud. She's not stupid, but she's the sort to look down on her rivals. Or rather, she doesn't think she has rivals. She'll slip on her own if you give her enough time."

"If I knew about those slips ahead of time, I could use them to my advantage more effectively."

"So you can. Very well, I'll help you, but it's going to require a few days of scrying."

"You're really milking this, aren't you?" Tracey asked.

"I'm not, actually. Here's an example: We're in the library. Go find me a specialized charm for treating wooden furniture like this table here. I want it to keep the finish from degrading for hundreds of years. Oh, and it should be easy to cast so even us first years can do it," I waved over to the shelves. "Go on, care to give it a try?"

"I'm not the seer."

"And being a seer just means I can look into the future, not that I'll have any success finding what your cousin wants. I can enter the library, but that doesn't mean I know where the right book is."

"Point taken," Daphne interrupted her cousin. "It's a time commitment for you to look not unlike any other research project."

"That's right."

"And what is your time worth?"

There were so many things I wanted, things I needed to do. For starters, I wanted to get better at occlumency; it was cliche for a reason. And while I was at it, I may as well pick up legilimency, especially seeing how silver lime wands were specialized for it. I also wanted more books about divination, enchanting, auguries, astronomy, and rituals.

But this wasn't the time. In the end, this little chat was just about a monthly contest between five girls in Slytherin. Though it was important to Daphne and Tracey, it wasn't something that merited a grimoire from Greengrass Manor to be shipped my way. If I asked, she'd just laugh in my face, and rightly so.

"A favor. One from each of you. Honestly? I'll probably ask you for help either passing on some messages or finding spells for me here at the library. I might occasionally ask you to help me tweak events in my favor. The less time I need to spend on that sort of thing, the better."

"We won't do things that are disadvantageous for us."

"Nothing harmful is all I can promise. If it doesn't inconvenience you in some way, it wouldn't be much of a payment."

The two cousins looked at each other. Tracey nodded, a tight, reluctant nod. Daphne spoke for them both. "Fine, that is acceptable. Your favor will depend on how happy I am with your information."

"That's fine. Now if you'll excuse me, it's nearing my bedtime."

"It's Six-thirty."

"And I want twelve hours of sleep."

"You're… You're a character, Zabini."

I waved them off and began to hobble for the common room. That was me, Blaise Zabini, the newest gossipmonger in Hogwarts. It grated to use my Sight like this, but practice was practice. It wouldn't be long before I had some real information worth selling.

Author's Note

The thing about Binns is actually true and would be knowledge Corbin has from being a huge nerd. In Hogwarts Mystery, Rowan Khanna, who is in the same house as your MC (so house changes depending on your choice), wants to be the youngest professor at the school ever. He knows Binns falls asleep often so uses the captive audience to practice his own lecturing. Yes, he canonically hijacks Binns' class and the ghost doesn't even notice.

I wanted Blaise to start dealing in information, but it's not like that information is going to change lives or anything. It's a school. Most of what he'll work with is teenage drama so he'll be paid accordingly. It'll change as he goes.

Animal fact? Umm… Sure. Owls do not have eyeballs. They instead have eye… tubes? cylinders? They're not built to rotate, which is why they evolved the ability to turn their heads 180 degrees.

Because their eyes take up so much volume in their heads, if you shine a flashlight inside an owl's ear canal, you can see the back of its eye.

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.