Chapter 28: Black is Back

  Blaise Zabini

  Hogwarts, Great Britain

  “Zabini, wait up,” I heard Adrian call as I headed for my suite. Turning, I found Adrian Pucey, Terrence Higgs, and a few of the less familiar members of the Slytherin quidditch team.

  “I was wondering when you’d come to speak with me,” I said. They’d expressed an interest in my predictions and the first game, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, was tomorrow, right after breakfast. “You’re cutting it a little close, don’t you think?”

  “It’s not easy finding a spell you don’t know. I wanted it to be something that isn’t just a parlor trick.”

  “Much appreciated, Pucey. Come on then, let’s go take a seat and we can talk about this.”

  Adrian led me to a quiet nook in the common room. Here, he presented three sheets of parchment to me. “Here, take a look. I know for a fact that these aren’t in the curriculum for all seven years. You’d have to go out of your way to find these spells.”

  I picked up the first. “Alarte ascendare? You’re right, I’ve never heard of this before.”

  “It’s a subset of the levitation charm and will launch the target high into the air.”

  “So I see. It doesn’t let the caster control the direction, always up, but is more powerful than a standard levitation. It should still have the same limitations, right? Doesn’t work on humans?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Fine, I can see how this might be helpful as a primer into other spells. Ask away, Pucey.”

  He smiled at the successful trade. “Good. During the first ten minutes of the game, which quarter of the quidditch pitch will the snitch be in?”

  I pulled out my crystal ball. “That’s easy enough. Fair warning, the longer the game goes on, the less accurate my predictions will be. For example, if the snitch starts in one place and Higgs or Potter drive it elsewhere.”

  “Yes, I figured. So long as Higgs knows where to start looking first, it’ll already be a huge advantage for us.”

  “Alright, allow me to take a peek into the future then,” I said, waving my hands mysteriously. It was fun, pretending to be one of those psychic quacks at carnivals.

  This was the kind of prediction I excelled at, one with clearly defined parameters and a handful of separate possible outcomes.

  The match would start at the same time no matter what. Likewise, the snitch would be released by Madam Hooch at the center of the field, leaving it to fly randomly within the first few minutes of the match. However, that random path, though unpredictable to viewers, was already set in stone. Only when a seeker approached would it alter its course.

  The quidditch pitch was divided into fourths, one quarter per each house’s spectator stands. Seeing how the snitch could only occupy one quadrant at a time, and interference with the snitch would obviously be against the rules, I could comfortably disregard any potential variables save the players.

  “I found it. The snitch will begin at the Gryffindor section of the pitch, roughly ten feet above the stands. I don’t recommend trying to capture it right away though. That’d be suspicious. Higgs is nowhere near that good.”

  “Oh, screw off, Zabini,” Terrence grumbled.

  “Seriously, don’t zip off to the snitch immediately. Someone will eventually accuse me of helping to rig a match, but I don’t want them to have anything they can point to as evidence.”

  “You let us worry about that,” Adrian said. “Does the snitch stay with the Gryffindors the entire time?”

  “No. It’ll move within the first three minutes. After that, it’ll stay near the center of the field, but within the Hufflepuff section. Anything more than that and I’d be guessing more often than not.”

  “Fair enough. Take a look at the second spell?”

  I did and frowned. “Lacarnum inflamari? A spell to… light cloaks on fire… You’re fucking with me.”

  “Hey, don’t look at me. Higgs found that one.”

  “What? He just said a spell he’d never heard of,” Higgs defended himself.

  “So you looked for the most obscure piece of crap you could find,” I replied dryly. “At least alarte ascendare has more oomph than a regular levitation spell. What does your spell have that can’t be done with a regular incendio?”

  “...”

  “You know what? Fine. I’ll give it to you this time, but don’t pull this shit again, Higgs.”

  “Fine.”

  “Which goalpost will they aim at more frequently?” Pucey asked. The guy was prepared. He had a list of questions to choose from in case I answered something tangentially.

  My crystal ball began to swirl with mist. “This one’s harder to answer. Johnson, Spinnet, and Bell aren’t objects with a set path. If you behave one way, they’ll obviously react. And, honestly? They have way better teamwork than you guys do.”

  “We know. Just having an idea should help though. How about just the first five goals from each?”

  “That, I can do. Johnson’s first shot will definitely be towards the tallest hoop, so long as our keeper isn’t directly hovering over it. Even afterwards, she has a tendency to shoot high so watch the tall and center hoops.

  “Spinnet has less power in her throws, but she’s also a bit more accurate. She prefers shooting dead center and will try to fake you out towards one of the adjacent hoops. She’ll stop doing that and become a lot more unpredictable after she fails the first three shots though so keep that in mind.

  “As for Bell, she shoots like Spinnet but I wouldn’t worry too much about her. She prefers to support her teammates by passing and opening up opportunities. Her first shot will be towards the center. After that, she’ll mostly fall back.”

  “Thanks, Zabini,” Adrian said, taking notes. “Last one.”

  “Inflatus? I know this spell already,” I told him. It was memorable to me because it was used accidentally by Harry in canon when he made Aunt Marge blow up like a balloon.

  “Shit.”

  “Tough, Pucey. Lovely doing business with you. I’d prefer more useful spells, but this was a nice proof of concept.”

  “Fair enough. Have a nice evening, Zabini.”

  I stood and waved behind me. Now that I thought about it, the wardrobe-igniting charm was also something from canon. Hermione used the spell to distract Quirrell from hexing Harry’s broom.

  That… I would have to see about that. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure what Quirrell would do tomorrow, or if it even mattered.

  There was a chance that he would proceed as in canon, to zero effect whatsoever. Even had Harry fallen from his broom, there was no doubt in my mind that either Dumbledore or McGonagall would have caught him. After all, Harry did fall from his broom in his third year thanks to the dementors crashing his game, only to be saved by the headmaster.

  In fact, I remembered the broom incident being what caused Snape to shake down Quirrell in the hallway. I wasn’t sure exactly when Dumbledore cottoned on to Quirrell, but he likely had some idea by that point and the incident would have reinforced his suspicions.

  Which raised the question: Why did Voldemort order Quirrell to do that? The Dark Lord’s goal should have been simple: Sneak into Hogwarts while impersonating the professor. Investigate the protections around the philosopher’s stone. And then, after finding an opportunity to disarm the traps, acquire the stone before fleeing.

  That attempt on Harry’s life wasn’t just unlikely to work, it was outright idiotic. It drew unnecessary suspicion and compromised his long-term objectives for what was effectively a shot in the dark. The more I thought about the old scenario, the less sense it made to me.

  In the end, my decision was simple: I’d still be on the lookout for any other form of interference, but if Voldemort wanted to make a mistake, I wouldn’t interrupt him.

  X

  I was having breakfast the next morning when the latest issue of the Daily Prophet arrived. Unsurprisingly, the front page news was the capture of Peter Pettigrew. I picked it up and gave it a read.

  The Dead Rises: Long-Thought Martyr Emerges Alive and Well

  By: Janice Hopewell

  Now, I know Magical Britain is no stranger to the strange and unusual, but this might well take the cake. Bear with me while I recap some history.

  For those of us of the younger persuasion, or those who have been living under a rock, the final days of the war were dark days indeed. Many went into hiding, hoping to avoid the conflict altogether, or to resist the Dark Lord in secret.

  Two of the latter were a couple, James and Lily Potter. Yes, those Potters, parents of the Girl Who Lived. They went into hiding and trusted the location of their secret home to one Sirius Black, the ironically white sheep of the Black family.

  Many of you know the story: Sirius Black, godfather of the Girl Who Lived, betrayed the Potters, turning them over to the Dark Lord. Some claim that he was the Dark Lord’s right hand all along and had been waiting for the opportune moment to betray the Potters, others that he received something in exchange for the lives of his friends.

  It doesn’t matter in the end. The Dark Lord found the Potters, leading to that fateful night. The Dark Lord was vanquished, Violet Potter was crowned the Savior of the Wizarding World, and the day was saved.

  Following that night, Sirius Black confronted another of his friends, a man by the name of Peter Pettigrew. During this confrontation, Black launched an enormous exploding curse, slaughtering a dozen muggles alongside his erstwhile friend. The only thing left of Pettigrew was a finger.

  The aurors found Black and arrested him, of course. Given the overwhelming amount of evidence, he was sentenced to life in Azkaban.

  All caught up? Good.

  Now, the reason I bring this up is because everything we thought we knew about that night might not be true after all. Peter Pettigrew has resurfaced, alive and in DMLE custody. Director Bones, head of the DMLE, had this to say:

  “Mr. Pettigrew is being detained for questioning by my aurors. He was brought to us by Headmaster Dumbledore Wednesday night. We have confirmed that this man is indeed Mr. Pettigrew and not a creative bit of human transfiguration. The case known as the Black Massacre thirteen years ago is being reopened. As such, details pertaining to this case shall be withheld until we can get to the truth of the matter.”

  As sparse as that statement is on the facts, it does leave us with a bit more to mull over.

  To start, the Black Massacre is being reinvestigated. This is hugely important news and could mean that Sirius Black may not be guilty of murdering all those muggles. At the very least, we now know that he was not guilty of murdering Pettigrew.

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

  A retrial must take place. And this time, we will be trying not Mister, but Lord Sirius Black. His grandfather, Lord Arcturus Black, passed away in 1991. His uncle, Lord Cygnus Black, passed away a mere year later. This leaves Lord Sirius Black the last male scion of the house, and also in Azkaban, possibly for crimes that he did not commit.

  It is clear to me, dear readers, that the Bagnold administration has much to answer for. There has been a great miscarriage of justice, one only brought to light through the apparent resurrection of a dead man.

  There is so much we do not yet know. What precisely happened that night? Who really killed those muggles? Where was Peter Pettigrew all this time?

  Will Lord Black return to magical high society with his name cleared and honor restored? If he does, what will this mean for Wizengamot politics? How does the Girl Who Lived feel about all this now that her godfather might be returning?

  Stay tuned, dear readers, you will know as soon as I do. One thing’s for sure: We live in interesting times.

  The hall was a mess. Already, I could hear half a dozen rumors sprouting like weeds. Some claimed that Sirius would be out looking for blood. Even if Peter turned out to be innocent of whatever happened that night, Sirius would use the Black name to kill him. Others wondered if the man who’d spent thirteen years in Azkaban would be sane at all.

  Through it all, Violet was as calm as the eye of a storm, at least on the surface. She looked studiously ahead, conversing with Parvati about anything but the newest hot topic.

  I doubted that’d last. She seemed as impulsive as Harry at times, and he’d never been very good at dealing with his fame either. I just hoped she’d keep herself from fueling the rumor mill, or at least have enough sense to keep composed when Rita Skeeter inevitably came to snoop.

  The paper itself was subtle, but I could see the way they were spinning the narrative. Hopewell was far less blatantly biased than Rita Skeeter, but that was a low bar to clear. She claimed to be waiting for more information to come to light, but she’d concluded the article by stressing the possibility of Sirius’ innocence.

  More, she’d also made a point of mentioning the Bagnold administration, not the ministry as a whole. If I had to guess, the Daily Prophet wanted to separate the current administration, Fudge’s, from Bagnold’s, thereby absolving those currently in power of responsibility.

  At the moment, only a few days after I turned in Pettigrew, the ministry likely knew nothing about what really happened that night. This small bit of distance would give them the freedom to react as the story unfolds.

  If it turned out that Sirius did kill all those muggles, they could simply reinforce the previous decision and throw Sirius back in prison. But, if it turned out that Sirius was an innocent man, they could gain immense goodwill from both the public and Violet herself by “righting the wrongs of the past.”

  It was clever. Honestly? It was too clever, not at all what I’d expected of Fudge. Which probably meant Fudge had nothing to do with this and this was likely a move Dumbledore thought up to shield the investigation from Fudge’s interference.

  I briefly glanced at the head table. Sure enough, Dumbledore was looking back at me, eyes twinkling like a pair of stars. He looked like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and I could honestly say the same.

  In so many fanfictions, Dumbledore was either secretly evil, or laughably incompetent. I now had confirmation that the headmaster wasn’t a secret dark lord, and that he was at least reasonably competent and willing to act in good faith.

  “Care to tell us what you know?” Theo asked, tapping a finger against his own copy of the paper.

  More people turned to me, and not just from my own house. The Hogwarts rumor mill must be fed. I languidly sipped my orange juice. “Now, why would I know anything about this?”

  “You really expect us to believe you missed the biggest scoop of the year?”

  “Despite your faith in me, Nott, I don’t involve myself in politics. I already told you this. That is true of Slytherin House affairs. That is doubly true of the Wizengamot at large. I’m Italian. My family’s powerbase lies elsewhere.”

  “For those of us who do care about politics, Zabini,” someone else said further up the table. Warrington, I was pretty sure. “What can you tell us? Is Lord Black really innocent?”

  “Of murdering Pettigrew? Obviously. Of those muggles? Who can say? The paper seems to be making ready to argue for his innocence though. I think the better question is what the political landscape will look like following his return.”

  “He could retire. I mean, I suppose he’s never entered the political sphere at all, but he spent thirteen years in Azkaban. Would he even be fit to represent his house?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” I said with a carefree shrug. “Now, I’m not going to pretend to be an expert on British law, but from what I know, Lord Black is Lord Black, plain and simple. Given the lack of any male heirs, he can’t be passed up for lordship, can he?”

  “That’s true… You make it seem like his release is a given.”

  “With Madam Bones on the case, backed by Dumbledore? That seems likely. Look, I haven’t delved into the subject and unless someone pays me, I’m not likely to start. My interests lie elsewhere at the moment.”

  “How much?” Lyra asked, unusually solemn.Then again, this was important news to her. If Sirius died, the Black family would have gone extinct, its wealth inherited by its closest living relative.

  Currently, that was Narcissa Malfoy. She was never in the line of succession, being both from a branch house and a woman, but the lack of any male heirs made that point moot. Strictly speaking, she had two older sisters, but Bellatrix Lestrange was in Azkaban and Andromeda Tonks had been very publicly disowned for daring to taint her noble bloodline with a mudblood.

  Now, with Sirius’ potential return, all that promised wealth evaporated before her eyes. I didn’t know how Narcissa would feel about this, truth be told.

  Would she attempt to worm her way into Sirius’ good graces? Would she try to have him killed off somehow? Or maybe have him declared unfit to take up the Black family headship on account of insanity and poor health?

  I laughed. Even if I were as cold and ruthless as some of my housemates believed me to be, I had a very good, pragmatic reason to not get involved.

  “For something this big? Any information I provide will cost more than your allowance, princess.”

  “I can pay.”

  “Of course you can. I doubt you would want to though.”

  “Try me, Zabini.”

  I sat up straight and stared her down. Then, more formally, “Very well, Heiress Malfoy. I think I’m quite finished with my breakfast. Would you care to conduct negotiations elsewhere?”

  “Yes, let’s.”

  X

  I led Lyra, and Lyra alone, to an unused classroom. There were plenty of those, being Saturday and all.

  She crossed her arms over her chest with an inpatient frown. She really was gorgeous, with platinum-blonde hair, crystal-blue eyes, and a full figure. I could see why Heath was head over heels for her. Unfortunately, I only saw a petulant child who thought she had to grow up too quickly, not knowing what she was leaving behind.

  “Alright, here I am. How much?” she huffed.

  “Let’s lay our cards on the table, hmm?” I responded. “First, start by telling me exactly what you want to achieve out of this. Knowing your goals can help me direct any searches.”

  “It’s no secret anyway. I want the Black lordship. Mother has the strongest claim.”

  “Impossible. You already know that. The best you can do is marry someone who is Lord Black, and I doubt spreading your legs for a man old enough to be your father is your idea of an ideal future.”

  Her face flushed red as she scowled. “You’re disgusting.”

  “I call it like I see it, Malfoy.”

  “Ugh. If you really want me to spell it out, then fine. I want to keep Lord Black from taking up his lordship. How do I do that?”

  I thought it over. “You know what? This one’s free, mostly because I’m not using my Sight.”

  “Then what good are you?”

  “Shh, Malfoy. Really, listen for a moment. I don’t think you can stop Sirius Black from being reinstated as Lord Black.”

  “He’s probably insane.”

  “You’re right. You could make the case that he’s unfit to take up headship of his house, except there is no one else in the Black family to act as regent.”

  “Mother could–”

  “She’d need permission from Lord Black, which I doubt she could get, seeing how she’s trying to discredit said Lord Black. Otherwise, she’d need to be appointed by the Wizengamot, of which Dumbledore is Chief Warlock. Now, the way I see it, the only way Sirius Black doesn’t become lord is if he dies, or he is found to have still murdered all those muggles and been a Death Eater, in which case he’d be sent back to Azkaban.”

  She leaned back with a satisfied smirk. “Then that can be arranged.”

  “Can it? Lord Malfoy is a powerful, influential man, no doubt, but so are Dumbledore and Madam Bones. Even your father can’t just dismiss an eye-witness like Pettigrew.”

  “Pettigrew might not have seen anything.”

  “Possible.”

  “Has he?”

  “Hmm…” I hummed, looking at her hip meaningfully.

  She growled but withdrew her purse. “Fifty galleons. That’s all I have right now. It’s just a yes or no question, Zabini. You’re not even getting involved, really.”

  I considered asking for more, but a plan was taking shape in my mind. Maybe, just maybe, I could get more out of this than Violet’s gratitude. I pretended to agonize over it before grudgingly accepting.

  “Alright, I do so love the sound of clinking coins,” I said with an exaggerated sigh. Pulling out my trusty crystal ball, I allowed it to cloud over. “Give me a minute. This is something that happened thirteen years ago.”

  She placed my payment on the table. “Fine, hurry it up though. I do want to catch the quidditch game.”

  “You and your quidditch…” I fell silent for several minutes. Then, when she looked about ready to blow her top, “Okay, I think I’ve got something… Oh, you’re not going to like this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Pettigrew was the traitor. He’s a Death Eater and was the one who betrayed the Potters to the Dark Lord. Black found out and attacked Pettigrew. Pettigrew was also the man who used an overpowered bombarda maxima, killing all those muggles,” I told her solemnly. None of what I’d said was bound to be secret for long so it didn’t matter if I told her early.

  “You’re kidding me. Can’t anything go right today?” she whined. “Well, what now?”

  I looked up from my crystal ball. “Now? Now we know that Lord Black is innocent, and thus will be reinstated as lord.”

  “Mother could still be regent. It’d take a few bribes and a lot of favors, but…”

  “But nothing. She won’t get the votes. You’re a smart girl, Malfoy; think about it. If the Wizengamot overrules Lord Black to forcibly appoint a regent for his house, it’d be setting the precedent that the Wizengamot could do this for any lordly house. It doesn’t matter if you can call Sirius Black’s sanity into question. Would a lord truly be okay with that? How much money would be enough to bribe that vote out of them?”

  “No…” she said bitterly. “Never mind the Light faction, even our own allies would vote against us.”

  “Exactly. I don’t even have to check the future; I can already tell you that’s a dumb idea. It’ll cost more money than even your family has.”

  “Well, bollocks,” she huffed. I almost smiled at that. Hearing the prim and proper Heiress Malfoy swear was kind of adorable. “I want my allowance back.”

  “Hey, I promise reliable information, not information you’d enjoy hearing,” I said. Then, more placatingly, “How about this though? What if the lordship isn’t necessary?”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Look, let me be honest with you for a minute. There is no reasonable way you can stop Lord Black from being, well, Lord Black. But, while the Wizengamot seat would be nice, I think what Lady Malfoy really wants is the Black family wealth, right?”

  “What of it? I don’t see why that distinction is relevant. It’s not as if Lord Black is going to sign over his family wealth.”

  “And if he did? What if I could convince him to do so?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Zabini. You’re a seer, not a miracle worker.”

  “True, but I think I might have a plan…”

  “I’m not paying until you make good on that plan.”

  “Nor should you,” I said with a smile. “How ‘bout it?”

  “What will that cost my family? A portion of the Black vaults?”

  “No. Instead, I want two hours alone in your family library. At the end, I get to walk out with any books I can carry. Of course, you and your parents will sign a magical contract which states that all books you own have been returned and none have been removed prior to my arrival.”

  “Are you insane?” she demanded, rightfully enraged at the thought. Her hand inched towards her wand. “Why the bloody hell would I let you in my family library?”

  “I’m quite sane, thank you. I know I’m asking for the equivalent of a magical taboo, but that’s what my help would be worth,” I told her calmly. “Any more than the information I’ve given you so far would mean making an enemy of Madam Bones and Dumbledore, potentially Lord Black as well. You’re asking me to risk a lot so naturally, the prize must also be comparable.”

  “Into our family libra–That’s just not done, Zabini.”

  “You’d only be paying if I succeed in transferring the contents of the Black vaults into the Malfoy vaults. Would the uncountable millions of galleons be worth a measly two hours in your library?”

  “I… That’s still too much.”

  I shrugged. “That’s fine. Just let your lord father know, hmm? I’m open to negotiations, but I won’t start anything until we have a contract signed.”

  “My father will hear of this.”

  “Huh… Have you… ever said that? You know, without it being a threat?”

  “S-Shut up!” she snapped, face beet red. Cute. Pouty Lyra was adorable.

  “Sure, just remember what I said,” I replied with a chuckle as I left her to stew. For a pureblood heiress, she was unexpectedly easy to fluster.

  Author’s Note

  All spells were provided courtesy of wikipedia. I’m not the one who dug up the corpse of a dead language and defiled it with anal beads made of hedgehogs.

  Animal Fact: Beekeepers do not eat bananas near beehives.

  Yes, weird fact, I know, but there’s a reason for this. Bananas contain a chemical called isoamyl acetate, which helps give the banana its flavor. This chemical is also used by bees as their alarm pheromone.

  Meaning, bees will get a whiff of that smell and think their hive is in danger. If you smell bananas around a beehive, run.

  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: .