Pre-fic Author's notes: Apologies for the horrible format. The little stars and dots are there to separate parts that should be separated. Some parts should be centered, but aren't. Nothing I can do about it, unfortunately. *Kicks FF.net's upload protocols* Estie de démancheur d'art…
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The Snake-who-lived
Book 3: Prisoner of Azkaban
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Prologue: Spontaneous Decisions
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The cell was stereotypically cold and damp.
Stereotypes sometimes serve purposes, though, and this one's was to make sure the cell was as uncomfortable as could be. It was small and cramped, even if it only held one occupant, blocked by cold iron bars covered with fabrication flaws – most likely on purpose, as they formed sharp, intimidating spines all over the surface of the bars, as if to dissuade its captive from touching them or thinking of getting out. The floor, roof and walls were covered with wood boards, though it was obvious there was a thick stone wall behind. Every once in a while, a plate of stale bread would be deposited just outside the cell bars by a silent figure clad in a dark cloak
There were no guards in front of the cell; they knew its captive was incapacitated, with no possibility of managing an escape. In fact, it was even safer if there wasn't one. The darkness was oppressing, but the prisoner was very much used to it, by now.
"LET ME GO!!" A voice protested from the depths of the dark corridor. Sounds of struggling and muttered curses could be heard, echoing in the usually deathly silent halls. A sharp slap and a female gasp of pain came next, a few seconds before the source came into view.
A pair of black robe-clad figures was roughly pulling a young woman toward the cells. That was hardly unusual; the prisoner had seen more than a few like her. However, the fact that she was still fighting made the captive interested in her; exactly why would they keep their newest victim with a chance of resisting and escaping?
One of them roughly pulled at her long crimson locks, drawing a cry of pain from the girl and a sudden respite. With one arm, one of the figures opened the door of the nearly identical cell – minus the wooden padding – in front of the spectator's. Only now did the older prisoner notice the odd robes she was wearing, bearing a small silver badge with a "P" on it on her left breast, a green and silver necktie and another badge on her right breast, this one describing a snake coiling around a cross-like shield of arms.
"Get in there, mudblood!" The death eater snarled before roughly pushing the red-head girl in the cell. She hadn't even touched the ground in a messy heap that the other one slammed the door shut in the teeth-gritting squeak of a door in dire need of oiling and an eardrum-shattering clang.
"Let me out of here, you motherless bastards!" The girl shouted, ignoring the bloody gash on her forehead and the angry red color of her raw hands.
Uncharacteristically ignoring both the barb and the girl's enraged green-eyed glare, the two death eaters went back the way they came, silently. Only when their footsteps had faded into silence did the girl turn toward her co-captive.
"Oh, hello, I didn't see you there." She said. "Did they get you too?"
A nod. A mouth tried to move, but no sounds came out; it had been a long time since the captive had drank anything but the strict minimum.
"What's your name?" She asked, before noticing the other prisoner's mouth. "Oh, you can't speak… Is it a charm or…?"
A slender pale hand pointed at a soft throat and made a guttural croak.
"Oh." The girl sighed. The captive could almost read her mind: 'So much for small talk.'. "Ha…Have you been here for a long time?"
A nod.
"For how long?"
A shrug. The prisoner had seen no sunlight since it had been locked up in this room, but it must have easily been… oh, two? Maybe three months? The girl's companion's loneliness must have showed somehow. Perhaps through the eyes.
"That long, hm?" The girl's voice shook a bit, though she hid it well. She was, apparently, considering what it would be like to stay in the confines of the cell for a long time.
"Well, since we might end up together for a while… I might as well tell my name… My name is Lily. Lily Evans. Sort-of nice to meet you, I guess."
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And, many years later, a nearly thirteen years old boy woke up, his forehead burning, but not hurting him at all.
"…Mum…?"
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Harry Potter then shook his head and chuckled, rubbing his warm forehead with his hand. Right. What a silly dream.
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Little whining, Surrey: a quaint, perfectly normal little town where perfectly normal people lived perfectly normal lives around very... perfectly abnormal neighbors, to say the least. Believing themselves to be the epitome of normalcy, the Dursleys had never been loved by anyone in town.
Then, two years ago, new neighbors had moved into the house next door. Nobody had ever stayed for very long in number six or number two, Privet Drive. Number three, five and seven were also periodically evacuated. The reason for that lived in number four: the aforementioned Dursley family. Upon their arrival, some of Privet Drive's residents had wondered if they should be warning them against the Dursleys. It turned out to be a moot point, actually.
For some reason, the Dursleys had been terrorized of them within the first week and had kept their outside activities to a minimum, as if afraid of some curse to fall on them, cast by the Zabinis.
Now those people were normal, if one ignored the woman's attitude and the fact that their daughter spent most of her time in some shady boarding school, somewhere in the north.
Two years later, both families still lived on Privet Drive, which was still a very normal street. Both of the houses, however, were strange, almost like even the buildings warred against each other.
Number four had once been a very... well, beautiful wasn't the word, let's say... eccentric place. Now, with the owners having moved over to their Villa in Majorca for the summer – which everyone in town knew about, because of Petunia Dursley's constant bragging – because of the attraction of the sea (And certainly not to escape their strange nephew and their neighbor's daughter, ofcoursenowwhatmakesyouthinksomethingridiculouslikethat) it was already showing signs of disuse.
...if a shattered window in their fat son's room, courtesy of a vengeful teenager from his school, could be considered as disuse.
Separated from the abandoned house by a freshly planted spiny hedge that grew on the Dursley's side of the picket-white fence, number six Privet drive was a quaint, homey-looking little house. The outside was perfectly normal, with the lawn flawlessly cut – even though nobody had ever seen any of the house's occupants take care of it (Nobody complained; no lawnmowers meant less noise. The general consensus was that the woman was a student in botany or something) and bore a well cared of and glitteringly clean 1990 familial car that showed with no flashy signs that the family was fairly well off.
Nobody in the neighborhood had ever walked inside the house, however, and neither the daughter nor the Dursley's nephew – that had apparently been unofficially adopted by the family – had any known friends except each other.
Well, to each their oddities.
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If one of those who believed the stories of the Zabini family's normality entered the house, be it by being invited – unlikely – or sneaking in – very unlikely and hazardous – they would immediately notice some of those oddities… which included moving pictures of family members with Italian panoramas as backgrounds, a pair of brooms displayed on a mantelpiece, the odd fact that the Radio had no plug nor slot for batteries and, of course, the fact that Mrs. Zabini was currently levitating a knife around a floating potato with her magic wand, while her daughter watched disapprovingly.
…small oddities. Nothing important to be noted. At all.
"Mum, I don't think you should—"
"Oh, hush, Blaise. You'll wake Dario up." The woman admonished softly. "He's worked himself sick lately and his holidays start today, so I want to surprise him. What better way is there than breakfast in bed?"
The girl looked dubious, as if she expected the electric oven to explode any second before even being turned on. She kept her words to herself, though.
"And… GO!" A flick of her wand later, the knife had violently passed through the potato six or seven times. Unfortunately, this had the side effect of sending the weightless pieces all over the room…
…Just in time for a weary, bedraggled haired – not that this was noticeable – Harry Potter, who was coming down the stairs, to receive one square on the bandanna-clad forehead. He was still not used to being able to get up at anytime he wanted.
"Shhhe'sss got good aim," Nemesis, wrapped around his "owner"'s shoulders, commented.
"Told you, mum," Blaise sighed. "You're hopeless in the Kitchen."
"Am not!" For an adult woman, Mrs. Zabini seemed to have the strange ability to diminish her mental age down to her daughter's.
"Are too!" Blaise retorted.
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"Am not!"
"Yes you are!"
"No I'm not!"
Ignoring them, Harry sat down at "his" place at the table. Five weeks had passed since he had left King's cross station and the wizarding world behind…
Well, sort of. It was rather impossible to do so in this place, with all of the items that were so obviously magical scattered across the place. Five weeks when, not once, he had been ignored or insulted, and not once had to hide the part of himself that he was the most proud of.
It was a very nice change from the Dursleys.
He could have done, however, without tasting what Blaise's mother called cooking. With a shudder, he remembered…
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"Kraft Dinner…?" Harry read disbelievingly on the guilty little cardboard box lying innocently on the counter.
Mrs. Zabini turned around, revealing the drenched apron she wore (Which still bore a few uncooked macaronis from the first time she had messed up and spilled it all over herself), to glare at him.
"Well, ex-cuse me, mister gourmet, but Dario's still working, there are no leftovers and we need to eat. Besides," She continued on the serious tone of a haughty teacher explaining things to a particularly difficult student, waving the spoon – that had been in boiling water not a second ago – in his direction to make a point, "I'll have you know that Kraft dinners are scientifically proven to be a perfectly rounded up meal, and that it's part of what astronauts eat when they're doing missions on Saturn or something."
Harry had not replied to share his disbelief. The fact that the smoking plastic spoon, dripping with boiling water, had been an inch from his nose at the time might have been the cause.
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Risking a look at what she was attempting now, Harry nearly did a double-take.
"Is that cooking oil?" Harry asked Blaise, pointing at the bottle.
"It'sss been nissse knowing you," Nemesis deadpanned, drawing an amused look from the boy.
The girl nodded sadly. "She's got it in her head that she can manage to make French fries."
"Can too!!" Mrs. Zabini snapped childishly and glared at her, while absentmindedly uncorking the bottle and upturning it over the cold pan. "It's just a matter of not adding too much oil, and to be generous with the salt."
As she was saying that in a charlatan's knowing tones, she did not notice she was emptying the bottle inside the pan.
"It's more of a matter of not burning the house down." Blaise sighed under her breath, before adding in a louder voice, "And mom, since when are French fries part of breakfast?"
Still not looking at what she was doing, Mrs. Zabini gave a glare at her daughter. "Why do you think they're called French fries? The French always eat them, at every meal." She turned around and gasped a quick "Oh!" as soon as she realized her mishap.
Unfortunately, realizing it meant she had startled and quickly turned the bottle around, sending cooking oil splattering across the wall and knocked her elbow against the pan's handle, sending it's – cold, thankfully – slippery content all over the ceramic floor, her apron and her fluffy green slippers. The pan itself went clattering against the tiles, though fortunately neither came out dented.
"What's happening down here?" Mr. Zabini asked as he walked down the stairs, his black hair still messy and dressed in a blue night robe. As soon as he realized the damage, he sighed, though his lips lifted in an amused smile. "Elmira…"
"Sorry, er…" The woman, who was still dripping in cooking oil, blushed brightly in embarrassment. "I'll just… clean this all up…" She mumbled while opening a closet – taking three tries, as it was drenched as well. "Where's that mop…"
"Mum, magic." Blaise called.
"I-I know I've put it in here somewhere—"
"Mum, use magic!" The daughter called, stronger this time, while grinning. Harry was barely holding his sniggers down. Sometimes, it was hard to imagine that Mrs. Zabini was actually old enough to be a mother.
"—But I just know… oh, maybe it's in here—"
"Mom!" Blaise snapped, while Harry lost it and burst out laughing.
"What?" The flushed woman snapped, her face still a burning crimson.
"Are you a witch, or not?" the thirteen years old girl asked calmly, while her cheeks twitched and hurt in an attempt to keep her face calm.
"I'm going to tell Weasssley shhhe ssstole hizss line." The snake declared, not that he really could speak to Ron. Harry wasn't listening, though; he was too busy laughing.
"…oh. Right." She cleared her throat and flushed a deeper shade of red. "Now I feel dumb. Thanks Blaise," whether the gratefulness was genuine or bitter remained a mystery. Most likely, it was a combination of the two.
***
After a quick cleaning spell, some mumbled embarrassed apologies and a kissed 'good morning', Mr. Zabini was wearing the same apron his wife had worn a few minutes earlier and was busily watching over some eggs sizzling in the center of the frying pan while listening to the wireless' sounds.
"...ended in a brilliant victory for the Vratsa Vultures, after six hours of beautiful and exciting game. In the end, it was the Vogel's reserve Seeker, the fifteen years old flying prodigy Victor Krum, who caught the Golden Snitch and brought his team two matches away from the great Bulgarian finale. Final score was of---"
"I bet you're better than him." Blaise told Harry, smirking, "I doubt he managed to fly without instructions and to catch a rememberall on his first try."
Harry shrugged nonchalantly, his attention already divided between the appetizing smells of the eggs floating around the kitchen/dining room and the words steaming out of the magical radio.
A woman took the waves: "Closer to us, Gilderoy Lockhart, ex-super famous author turned criminal fraud, pleaded guilty today in front of the Wizengamot. He was sentenced to a fifteen thousand Gallion fine, separated between Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry and the victims of his memory charms who were identified by Mister Deschamps, who was offered the order of Merlin, third class, last week, for service to the Magical English nation. Miss Darla Kickens, spokesperson of the golden quill, Lockhart's official publisher, was not available for comment. "
Mrs. Zabini smirked while both children snorted. Revenge was sweet, indeed.
A male voice started again: "In other news, the minister Fudge has announced yesterday that taxes should be lowered by one and a half percent by next year, and that additional funds will be given to St. Mungo's hospital for magical illnesses—"
"Bah," Mrs. Zabini snorted disdainfully while turning the radio's volume off. "Fudge's just trying to get popularity points for the next elections. Fat load of good that'll do. And where is he going to get that money out of? Probably Malfoy's pocket…"
Harry gave a look at Mrs. Zabini. He knew Mr. Malfoy was a death eater; he had figured it out about a month and a half ago. She apparently knew as well…
"Sure, I'm the one who caught him." He remembered her saying, back in Flourish and Blott's. Back then, he hadn't asked any questions, though. Oh, he should have had…
"Could you turn it back on?" Mr. Zabini's asked, breaking into his musings, while tending to the toasts, which had just jumped out of the toaster. "Maybe there's something else on the normal stations."
Idly, his wife nodded and flicked it on. For an instant, the sound of a woman singing about a 'Love as white as a Unicorn's flight' came to their ears – never mind that unicorns couldn't fly – before a stomping beat and an energetic young man's voice replaced it.
"You're listening to England's number one station, Capital FM, 95.8, on this beautiful Saturday morning!" The entertainer announced. Two seconds later, Mr. Zabini walked to the table to serve the eggs and Harry blocked the sound of the radio out. When he was finished, he tuned in again, frowning when he found the speaker was now blaring out an ad in an obviously faked excited voice.
"Do you feel overworked? Is city life wearing down on your nerves? Do you want to relax and have a memorable time as a family in the most beautiful sites of North Wales? Well, here's your chance! Here, at Garthyfog Farm, you can enjoy a great selection of outdoor activities, including mountain hikes, horseback riding and swimming in the refreshing waters of Cardigan Bay for only £7 per tent per night!"
"That's it!" Mrs. Zabini's victorious voice suddenly cut in, startling everyone at the table. "Dario, prepare the car. I'll get the tents. Blaise, Harry, pack your things. We're going Camping."
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Author's notes:
Well, here I go again. I've had to do 3 researches just to get this and the next chapters to my satisfaction (Due to the fact that I don't speak German, I'm not British and I'm certainly not a British camper). Call me a hopeless perfectionist if you must. After going through all this, I have only one thing to say:
I love Internet :P.
About the French fries… I wouldn't know, I don't live in France ^_-.
I've re-touched a bit on the formatting. It's not important for the lot of you, but it is for me; no more quotes at the start, for example. The book of quite officially soaring on its own wings; only the general timeline of the events is kept, everything else is changed. Quotes just wouldn't make sense anymore.
Whoever's the first who catches the wordplay on Darla Kicken's name gets dedication for next chapter ^_- And since the newest FF.net upgrade allows URLs to be written in the chapters, that includes Author address ^_-. Good incentive, eh? :P
I've received a few comments about the number Anime crossovers in the previous book… Don't take it too seriously (Except the Jusenkyo thing, of course), I'm just playing around, trying to fit in as many as I can every now and then, whenever the chapter's not too important (which is not very often, actually). As much effort as I put in writing this, I still do it for fun.
The main reason for the delay… well, there's the fact that I got interested in a few other things (Which does NOT mean I'm losing interest in this!!! Just that they take some of my time away), that I found a VERY addictive game and I have to tear myself out of it with a crowbar and strong acid to get myself to write, the fact that I had to write 3 chapters before posting the first… and they're not finished yet, either… and I've planned/written out a few dozens background/past scenes…
…I said main? Erm… well, the main one would be the original story I've been working on. Still on the first chapter, but it's looking very good, in my opinion. Here's hoping I keep my interest in it! ^_-
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The Zabini's camping grounds website:
www.garthyfog.co.uk/camping.htm
Yes, I'm perfectionist to that point. Sue me :P.
*****
ANSWERS TO THE SPONTANEOUS DECISIONS OF THE REVIEWERS:
GoddessMoonLady : Glad you liked it!
Hisocal: I have no idea how the pairings will turn out, so I can't really said if it'll be Harry/Blaise or even Harry/McGonagall (ewww!!). I like writing her, too. And Nemesis… he gets a nice role in this book ^_-. Actually, there was a large separation between by 'Apartés' and the main story… but FF.net cut it out every time. And for the last thing… moi aussi, mais des fois j'fais des erreurs de 'Franglais'.
Hamish: *blink* My fanfic as wall ornament? *Blink blink* erm… kay? Dobby… I have to admit that I had totally forgot about the little guy. He makes an appearance in this book, though. Not telling when, though.
Dragonsprincess: Oh boy. Sugar high, eh? In case you haven't noticed, I like to make the characters argue. It's SO much fun to do ^_^. And yes, he has devious, evil, nasty and altogether not nice plans for Harry… but I'm not telling. Mwahaha.
SS2 Megami-sama: *blink* How does that work, a Super Sayajin goddess… *shakes head* Glad you liked my humble little (*cough*) series!
RaistlinofMetallica: Yes you did! Foreshadowing is fun ^_^. About Xu… well, that's a secret, again. *blink* er… thanks, I guess?
Bookworm04: Wait no more, it's here!
Aleh: ^_- I'm just playing around with the references.
Blackheart Syaoran: Yes, I know perfectly well what you mean. Lockhart-haters unite! (*Two billion something Harry Potter fans unite*) ack… cramped… That is, indeed, Severus' greatest fault. That part is going to be… interesting, to say the least. I've got most of it planned out, the rest is loose ends for when I get there ^_-.
Simply Myself: Hehehe… Lysistrata, eh? And then Hermione gets in Hogwarts, overworked, tired and with her sole Gryffindor company being Ron, who just happens to be a guy… Why not have the salad be a carrot one, with Cesar dressings? Hehehe… evilness… I really have to find it, in that case…
Big D: I've checked it out… the first few chapters had me go a bit: "Erm… ok, is this a fangirl fantasy written on file, or is this a fanfic?" but later on, the romantic twists… Hylarious and excellent. Laughed my head off.
Jedi Buttercup: Me = Perfectionist. That means, Me = almost never satisfied with what I write. (The day I write like, say, Barb LP or Loki, THEN I'll be proud.)
Cinderella Supervillain: *blush* Reviews like yours always brighten my day ^_-. The Lexicon WILL have a role in this. Quite an important one, too. And here's book 3, by the way ^_-
ReflectionsOfReality: *hides the short straw behind his back* …I think I will, lol ^_-
Tonnocal: Here goes!
Sykoshippo: I've drawn a picture of Lockhart getting tortured by Mrs. Zabini (the way Harry pictured it) but I'm not satisfied with it… probably going to try again ^_-. Everyone likes but hates the Lexicon, it's funny ^_^. About Xu… well, that's a secret. *ducks tomatoes* You'll like it, then. I know I'll like it ^_^.
The Vampire Story Hunter: Everything I write, I made sure I like (and I can actually use later) before I do. So no, I will *not* change it ^_-
Kimara: The next meeting between Harry and Draco will take a while, though… there's going to be a lot of things going on in the summer.
Anon e Mouse Jr.: Creatures are always fun, if they're used properly. The Jusenkyo episode was an absolute blast to write, and the Chamber of secret saga had me tear my hair out in frustration at the timing and planning of everything, but it was SO worth it ^_-. I heard the movie wouldn't be that good… Chris Columbus got replaced by a producer who makes porn… And Radcliffe's leaving after this one. I really fear for movie #4 (which is possibly the most important). As for the questions… well, those are secrets ^_-.
HBK Shawn Michaels: Here you go!
Lunawolf: And another Lexicon-hater ^_^. Yes, good reviewer. Have a cookie. *tosses a cookie*
Ranchan17: What do you think?
Risty: I said the same thing, so no problem, lol ^_^
Serpent of Light: Indeed, I AM proud. More details on Mr. Zabini, coming up next chappie ^_-
Athenakitty: And here for the traditional *twitch*
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Boy, that's a lot of reviews… But I don't mind, really.
Here is my Yahoo! Group, where I give Progress reports every now and then, and I reply to any questions/comments much faster than just waiting for the next chapter. All you have to do is join up ^_-
(And I'll also post up my original story here, when it's finished. I know about Fictionpress.net, but I'm going to be testing the waters ^_-)
I wanted to post the link here, but for SOME STRANGE and INEXPLICABLE reason, Fanfiction.net didn't want to let me put the real address, even though it let me post up the link to the campground above. Let's not ask, just nod and smile, keep moving ahead and ignore the big UFO that's kidnapping people with a teaspoon.
So just replace the spaces by slashes in the address here:
Http: groups.yahoo.com group SnakeWhoLived
Akuma-sama, the demon lord