Summary: Second year for Harry and Blaise is up and running! This year there's the revelation of the Heir of Slytherin, but his evil doings won't work out quite the way he had planned. . . .
Disclaimer: I don't own it, so why are you bothering to ask?
Betas (And the Reviewers and Friends that Continuously Helped Me): SaphirePhoenix, Curse of Immortality, what are you even saying, Royari, Gabwr, BitterIcing, Moony's Metamorphmagus, Joey, Allison (who told me writing was cool and asked when I was going to get published), Miranda (who kept wanting to read parts and pieces of the chapters I was writing in class and adding more romantic bits), Tiffany (who's perkiness cheered me up on the worst days), Justina (who put her hands on her hips and chewed me out when I told her I didn't have anything written for a chapter in three months), and Hayden (who told me I was a good writer, but he didn't know why). Naturally, I cannot name all of my reviewers here, but know that, even if you aren't mentioned, I love you dearly for your support and constructive criticism.
Authoress's Note: I would like to dedicate this continuation to SaphirePhoenix, the wonderful author of the first story in this series. (If you have managed to find this story--but not the prequel--the link to The Orphan: Book One can be found in my profile.) She will write her own sequel, I'm only doing this for fun, as she has allowed me. Some of the ideas in this story I have received from her and twisted around and changed them up to make them my own. I ask that, when and if she writes her own sequel, no one accuse her of plagiarism.
Chapter One: The End-of-Year Feast
In some ways Albus Dumbledore was like a small child, except for the obvious fact that he was not. He was still eager to observe the world around him. Bouncing on the balls of his old, wrinkled, and worn feet excitedly under his long, violet, constellation-covered wizarding robes when he felt that something fun was about to happen. New things or situations still made him nervous—like a ten-year-old child instead of his hundred and forty-three years.
At the time he was not nervous because he felt something good was about to happen soon. Oh, no, he was nervous because for once, he had absolutely no idea of what to do in the situation he was in.
Of what, you ask?
Harry Potter and Blaise Zabini. Certainly not the only orphans at Hogwarts, but they were the only two orphans who lived at an orphanage. A Muggle orphanage, no less, which created unpleasant circumstances for a lot of people.
But why is this situation unpleasant? Because both of them had made it clear to Albus—and the rest of the staff—when they had come to Hogwarts before term started that they did not want to go back. Mr. Cromwell, the orphanage instructor of St. Margaret's, did not particularly want them back, either, and seemed content to try to forget they existed.
They most certainly couldn't stay at Hogwarts; they would get bored—after a while, anyway. The orphanage was out of the question even without the instructors hesitation, what with all of the Memory Charms that would need to be cast—on the other children as well as the teachers. Maybe they wouldn't object too badly to going to stay with the Dursleys—the only living relatives of Harry. That is, if the Dursleys didn't object to it. . . .
Just then, someone rapped smartly on the door to his office with the brass knocker.
Smiling softly, Albus got his bowl of lemon drops ready and replied to the not-so-mysterious knocker, "Come on in, Minerva."
"After nearly thirty-five years of working here, it never ceases to amaze me that you always know when it is me," Minerva McGonagall answered grimly, opening the door and moving to take a seat.
"Call it a Headmaster's intuition. Lemon drop?"
"No, thank you."
Albus sighed, "Ah, well, maybe next time." Popping a lemon drop into his mouth and savoring the taste of sourness that comes with lemon flavors, he inquired, "What is it this time, Minnie?"
Pursing her lips into a thin and dangerous line at the ridiculous nickname she had acquired from him recently, she replied, "I expect that you will reward House points to the four students who helped save the Stone?"
"Five."
"Excuse me, Albus?"
"Yes, four students helped save the Stone, but one more tried to stop them."
"But why would you award points to a student who tried to stop them?"
"Because that student is Neville Longbottom, and he showed great courage in trying to stop Miss Granger. I am sure I should award him points for finally showing the trait."
"Oh," Minerva breathed. For once, she was speechless.
"I have calculated the points I shall give them," Albus continued, "and I daresay that you will be shocked at the outcome." He grinned slyly at the questioning look on Minerva's face.
"What's the outcome?" asked Minerva. But curiosity killed the tabby cat.
"Did you honestly think that I would tell you?" inquired Albus.
"No."
"Well then, it seems you have your answer," he cheeked.
"Whatever the outcome is, I'm sure Molly and Arthur will be proud to know that their youngest son has finally earned points instead of losing them," Minerva concluded.
At this simple statement, a light bulb seemed to click on in Albus Dumbledore's wise and prestigious mind and he ushered Minerva out of his office while ignoring her protests (she hadn't yet told him what it is she had come there for) to formulate his plan.
oOoOo
"Madam Pomfrey, look, I love you and everything, really, but you've got to let me out of here someday!" Harry pleaded.
The woman called Madam Pomfrey snorted. "Absolutely not. You need rest, Mr. Potter, you are weak," the strict nurse insisted stubbornly.
"Come on, Madam Pomfrey . . . this is the End-of-Year Feast!"
She eyed him shrewdly before saying, "Fine, but let me give you one last checkup."
Harry narrowed his own emerald eyes at her angrily, but allowed her to examine him unnecessarily, poking and prodding as she did so. After she was finished fussing with him, she reluctantly allowed him to go to the feast.
As they parted ways, Madam Pomfrey gave him one last warning.
"Don't you dare overexert yourself, Mr. Potter!" was the last thing Harry heard as he rushed down the halls so he wouldn't be any later for the feast.
oOoOo
When Harry arrived at the Great Hall, it was already full of students thoroughly enjoying the feast. The whole hall was decorated in colors of blue and bronze to celebrate Ravenclaw winning the House Cup for the first time in ten years. A huge banner that displayed the eagle of Ravenclaw was situated behind the High Table.
As soon as he entered, there was a sudden hush throughout the hall. Harry rushed over to the Slytherin table with his head bowed so that no one could see any more of the dark pink tinge that was currently coating his cheeks. Quickly, he situated himself into a seat between his friends, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott.
"Hey, Harry, you should try the some of this chicken; it's absolutely scrumptious," Blaise started, immediately piling what little was left on the chicken onto his plate.
"That's all I get? No 'Wow, Harry, that crazy woman finally let you out of the hospital wing!' or 'Look, Harry's here! How are you feeling now that that crazy woman has finally let you out of the hospital wing?'" Harry complained sarcastically.
"Oh . . . sorry, Harry," Blaise apologized sheepishly. "So, Harry, how are you feeling now that that crazy woman has finally let you out of the hospital wing?"
" . . . You scare me Blaise . . . very much. . . . But now that you mention it, I'm feeling much better."
"Both you and your girlfriend scare me, Harry, as I'm sure both of you scare everyone you meet." Theo patted his shoulder sympathetically.
Harry narrowed his eyes at him menacingly, just as Blaise shouted, "I'm not his girlfriend!" for all of the approximately one thousand, two hundred ears in the Great Hall to hear.
"Oh, yeah? If you really weren't Potter's girlfriend, you wouldn't be so defensive about it," Theo argued.
At this remark, Blaise's cheeks turned pink. "I hate you. Bloody git," she muttered under her breath. All the while she was stabbing angrily at the huge mound of "scrumptious" chicken she had piled on her plate. When Harry remarked to her that if she didn't stop soon, she'd become a serial stabber killer of rabid chickens, Blaise just glared at him from her position over her plate but otherwise ignored him.
Sneak, who had remained strangely silent from his post curled around Harry's sleeve suddenly spoke up with a vengeance. "Oh pleasse, Blaisse isss not Harry'sss girlfriend," at this point Harry grinned smugly, even though neither Blaise nor Theo could hear Sneak. "Of coursse, that doesss not mean he doessn't like her, he lovesss her. But, of coursse, he isss too much of a wimp to assk her out! At thisss rate, they'll never get married!"
Harry's face went from smug to horrified in the matter of milliseconds. Blaise eyed him warily. "What did he say?" she whispered so that Theo couldn't listen in.
"Nothing."
"Are you sure?" Blaise questioned suspiciously.
"Positive," Harry said, inconspicuously squirming in his seat, hoping Blaise wouldn't notice.
Fortunately for Harry, she was ceased from giving him her famous "Eye of Horus" as Harry liked to call it, by the coming of the desserts and cried out gleefully, "Ooh, look, Harry! Treacle tarts!" and excitedly started filling her plate—and stomach—with delectable chocolates and pies—and, of course, treacle tarts.
Harry smiled and shook his head at the gluttonous way his friend was acting. 'Wait, that wasn't acting—that was normal.' Theo just looked on, smirking at the two of them; they would make a great couple in his opinion. He would point it out, but they would just deny it . . . again. Shaking his head, he joined the two people beside him in seeing who could consume the most shepherd's pie.
After a few minutes of inhaling and packing food into their mouths in order to fatten themselves up a bit more before school ended, the food disappeared from the plates to indignant cries of "Hey!" from the Weasley twins and Blaise. Headmaster Dumbledore stood up form the High Table in order to give his annual end of term speech. As soon as he stood, all of the chatter that had filled the hall since the feast had started died away.
"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing shortcake before you can head to your common rooms for a good night's sleep before the train leaves tomorrow. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were. . . . You have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts. . . .
"Now as I understand it, the House cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and seventy-five points; in third, Slytherin, with four hundred; Gryffindor has four hundred and forty, and Ravenclaw, four hundred and ninety."
A polite applause rang out through the Great Hall, from everywhere but the Slytherin table; however, a few Slytherins put their hands together a few times before stopping, Harry and Blaise included. They could at least be polite! (Even if they were thinking up murder plots for the Ravenclaws—wait, that was Blaise.) The Hufflepuffs wore quant smiles in appreciation for Ravenclaw winning the House cup. The Gryffindors were hooting and hollering, some even stomping their feet when the Ravenclaws came out victorious. As for the Ravenclaws, they looked quite pleased with themselves.
"Yes, yes, well done, Ravenclaw," said Dumbledore, looking amused at the Gryffindors antics. "However, recent events must be taken into account."
The whole hall was now hanging onto his words, everyone was silent, even the Gryffindors. The Ravenclaws' haughty smirks had faded a bit, and the other Houses looked hopeful.
"Ahem," Dumbledore commanded, "I still have some last minute points to dish out. Let me see. . . . Yes. . . .
"First—to Mr. Theodore Nott . . ."
Theo had his mouth opened into an 'O' shape. Blaise looked ready to recommend him to close it if he didn't want to catch flies.
". . . for the best played game of chess Hogwarts has ever seen, I award Slytherin fifty points."
Cheers erupted from the Slytherin table.
After a bit, another ringing silence was heard—well, it couldn't be heard, because it was silent, but you get the point—hopefully.
"Second—to Miss Hermione Granger and Blaise Zabini . . . for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor and Slytherin fifty points each."
Hermione had her face buried in her arms at the Gryffindor table; Harry strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Suddenly Harry heard a THUMP hit the ground. He looked at the now-empty bench seat beside him: Blaise had fainted.
"Third—to Mr. Harry Potter . . ." Dumbledore continued. The room went deadly quiet. ". . . for pure nerve and outstanding courage—and cunning—I award Slytherin house sixty points."
Harry was offended. He just had to make a comment about what outstanding courage he had showed, didn't he? For a supposedly unbiased headmaster, Dumbledore sure knew how to make a Slytherin mad. However, that didn't seem to matter to many of the Slytherins, who were making deafening racket—Harry was surprised that Blaise hadn't awoken yet. For, in the end, Slytherin had won—for the eighth year in a row—by ten points, and everyone in the Great Hall knew it—well, except for Blaise. But Dumbledore wasn't finished yet, and had raised his hand for silence yet again.
"There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to your enemies, but a great deal more to stand up to one of your friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."
Neville turned white with shock; he had never earned as much as a point for Gryffindor before. The rest of Gryffindor were screaming their heads off. The Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins all looked confused. Surely he wouldn't. . . .
"Which means," Dumbledore called over the Gryffindors' yelling, "we need a little change of decoration."
He clapped his hands. In an instant, the navy and bronze hangings became alternating scarlet and gold and emerald and silver; the huge Ravenclaw eagle vanished to be replaced with two banners, one of the Gryffindor lion and the other with the Slytherin serpent. Sneak had started chanting, "We won, we won, we won," over and over again under his breath. Snape and McGonagall looked hesitantly at each other before briefly shaking hands. Snape looked at Harry once as though telling him his feelings hadn't changed one jot, even with the Slytherin and Gryffindor tie—which was the first time something like that had ever happened. This didn't worry Harry, however.
Blaise opened one eye cautiously from her position on the floor. She sat up and looked around at a stunned Great Hall. Confused she looked over at Harry, who seemed to be thinking, for an explanation. When he didn't notice her, she asked him groggily, "What'd I miss?"
When Harry told her about the tie between Gryffindor and Slytherin for the House cup ceremony, Blaise looked at him like he had three heads and said the only word that came to mind.
"Damn."
oOoOo
"Haaarrry."
"What Blaise?"
"When are we asking again?"
"How hard can it be to remember that we are asking him as soon as we've finished breakfast?"
"Very hard."
"Oh, really?"
"Grrr. . . . Especially when Draco Malfoy seems to have taken a liking to you and starts incessantly and outrageously flirting with you in front of the entire common room and Parkinson's staring at you like a wild hog ready to kill!" Blaise countered.
"That was an amazing run-on sentence, Blaise," Harry quipped.
The girl gritted her teeth. "Well, do you get the picture?"
Harry tapped his chin before looking at Blaise thoughtfully. "I think so," he supposed.
"Oh, look Harry. Test scores are posted," Blaise tried to change the subject. Harry suspected that she wanted to keep from socking him in the mouth to keep him quiet.
Harry decided to play along. "Really? Wow, look, Blaise, I made all O's! Except for in Potions and History of Magic, I made E's in them."
"That's good, Harry."
What'd you make?" he asked.
"I did okay: One O and two A's. The rest are E's," Blaise answered.
Suddenly, a great growl filled the hall they were walking down. Blaise blushed, embarrassed. "Good! Now, let's get to the Great Hall! Didn't you hear my stomach?" she pouted.
"I think everyone within a fifty mile radius heard your stomach, Blaise. There's really no need to ask. . . ." Harry commented.
"Well, aren't you a right little twit this morning? Good riddance." And with those parting words, she stormed off in a huff, following the enticing scent of food wafting from the Great Hall.
"Wait! Blaise! I didn't mean it! I swear!" Harry yelled after her retreating form, running to catch up to her quickening pace.
Suddenly, Blaise turned around with a smile on her face to give him a bone-crushing hug. "I knew you'd come around, Harry!" she declared.
"Huh?"
"Boys, such slow-minded creatures," Blaise muttered quietly to herself. Speaking so Harry could hear her more clearly, she boasted, "I'm a great actress, aren't I?"
"Hey! You tricked me!" Harry accused.
"About time."
"What was that?" asked Harry darkly.
"Nothing. Now, let's go get something to eat!" Blaise exclaimed eagerly as her stomach grumbled yet again, pulling Harry through the double doors to the hall that seemed to be beckoning to her.
As soon as she was settled into a seat at the Slytherin table, she piled food on the plates set before before them without wasting any time at all. Grinning impishly, she started eating the array of food set out before her.
Harry's mouth hung open at his friend's antics. Sure, she had always been a bit of a pig, but he had never seen this before.
"Er, Blaise?" he asked cautiously, afraid that she might choke on the bacon she was currently cramming into her mouth.
"Hmmm?" she answered, now drowning all that she had eaten so far down with a tall goblet of orange juice.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked, confused.
"Eating," Blaise said, stating the obvious.
"I know that, could you be more specific?"
Blaise sighed in exasperation before setting down her now-empty goblet to look at him sternly, suddenly in what Harry thought of as her dramatic speech mode.
"Harry, Harry, Harry . . ." she tutted.
"What?" he replied warily.
"Harry, we are going to be leaving this wonderful castle about an hour after we're finished eating. We don't know where we're going and I want to be well-fed in case we're starved. Do you understand my reasoning now?" Blaise defined bluntly.
"Yes, yes, I do," Harry answered, immediately proceeding to stuff his face.
"So," he said just as they were finished, "where do you think Dumbledore will have us go?"
"Truthfully? No idea, whatsoever." This wasn't being truthful though. She did have a good idea, but she didn't think Harry would appreciate it if she brought that subject up.
"I just hope he doesn't split us up," Harry said mournfully.
Blaise's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. She hadn't thought of that.
Just then, Dumbledore stood up from the staff table. He had an extremely serious look on his face as he started speaking. "Well, I'm sure you are all anxious to leave. The train leaves the station in an hour, so there is still time for last-minute packing. Now, if I may have a private word with Mr. Harry Potter and Miss Blaise Zabini, the rest of you are free to go."
Harry looked over at Blaise, whose eyes had again widened considerably. Strange thoughts were going through his head. What did Dumbledore want to talk to them about? Privately, no less. At seeing the look on Blaise's face, he wondered whether they were in trouble. He couldn't remember doing any serious pranks lately. In the back of his mind he realized vaguely that they had forgotten to do their scheduled end-of-year prank. Oh, well.
Harry was brought out of his thoughts as Dumbledore beckoned for them to follow him out of the hall.
The other students' faces showed pity. Apparently, they also had come to the conclusion that Harry and Blaise were in serious trouble. The Weasley twins gave them a thumb's up as they left the hall. Blaise looked ready to hyperventilate, and Harry thought he might not look much better.
"Uh-oh," Blaise whimpered pitifully. "He's going to expel us, I can feel it."
"Blaise, stop panicking," Harry muttered out of the corner of his mouth as he moved to follow the headmaster down the endless halls of Hogwarts.
"Stop panicking?! Stop panicking?! You're telling me to stop panicking?!" Blaise whisper-shrieked hysterically. "We're going to be expelled on the last day of school and it's all your fault! We'll be sent back to the orphanage to live there for good! Or at least until we're eighteen… but I can't wait that long!" As she opened her mouth to rant even more, Harry cut in.
"How's it my fault?"
"I don't know yet, but I'll think of something!" Blaise hissed.
Just then, they found themselves outside of the stone gargoyle that protected the entrance to Dumbledore's office. As the said man whispered the password ("Licorice Wands"), the gargoyle hopped aside to reveal a revolving staircase. Harry and Blaise followed as Dumbledore motioned to them yet again.
As he opened the heavy mahogany door, Harry couldn't help but distantly take in the sheer originality of Dumbledore's office.
There were bookcases lining the walls, which were filled to the brim with large, heavy volumes that never seemed to give in to dust. A large desk stood proudly in the center of the room with even more volumes and small iridescent silver trinkets that were whistling and whirring.
Both gulping noticeably, Harry and Blaise sat down in the two comfortable-looking leather seats in front of the desk while Dumbledore settled into the high-backed seat behind his desk to stare at them ominously while twiddling his thumbs.
"I am afraid to say—" he began.
"We didn't do it, Professor! We're innocent!" Blaise cried.
Dumbledore gave a small smile while taking in the sight of Blaise, who looked wild and ready to burst into tears. He continued, "—that the issue of where you two are to stay for the summer remains undecided. There is a potential caretaker. . . ."
"Who?" Harry interrupted.
The headmaster sighed wearily. "Your aunt, Petunia Dursley, and her husband, Vernon."
Harry blanched at the mention of his aunt and uncle. "No," he refused.
"Hmm?" Dumbledore asked, putting an Every Flavor Bean into his mouth before blanching and taking it back out.
"No. We aren't going," Harry argued.
"See, that is where the problem comes up . . ."
"What is it?" Blaise prompted impatiently.
"She has only agreed to care for you for a fortnight, no more. Her husband and your cousin weren't very keen on the idea."
"Care! Hmph! If that's what you want to call it. . . ." Harry grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.
Dumbledore didn't appear to have heard this remark. Blaise, on the other hand, did. She immediately started giggling energetically and whispered to Harry in a hushed tone, "Let's just hope that don't make us sleep in the same bed." This made Harry crack up, even though his cheeks had shaded pink. Blaise always knew how to cheer him up.
"So therein lies the problem, there is no one to watch you for the other month and a half," Dumbledore confessed.
"What about the orphanage?" Blaise spoke up.
"That scenario is too complicated, what with all the Memory Charms that would need to be performed on everyone there."
"What about the Notts?" asked Harry, thinking of how kind—in a Slytherin way—that Theo had been to him and Blaise.
"Mr. Nott's grandmother and guardian is unable to care for three," Dumbledore explained.
"Er . . . the Granger's?" Blaise asked, getting desperate.
"Their daughter is going to stay somewhere else for most of the summer."
"Could we stay at Hogwarts?" Harry pleaded.
"Only Mr. Filch will be here. Do you honestly want to stay here with him?" questioned Dumbledore, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Harry furrowed his brows, perplexed. Where did the other teachers go?
"However," the headmaster continued, "there is one family willing to take you in, although they would like a fortnight or so to make up for lost time with their own children. So, both of you can go stay with the Dursleys' for a period of two weeks, as they have grudgingly agreed, then you may go stay with the wizarding family that is willing to take you into their care. Agreed?"
"Agreed," Blaise said.
"Agreed," Harry muttered, looking anywhere but at the kind headmaster.
"Absolutely spiffing!" Dumbledore said happily. "You are free to leave now, Mr. Potter, Miss Zabini—I'm sure you have some last minute packing to do as well. Run along!"
Harry and Blaise heaved themselves out of the comfortable leather chairs and made their way to the door. Just as Harry's hand touched the doorknob, Dumbledore called out a last farewell energetically.
"Don't worry about being a bother; Molly and Arthur can't wait!"