The snake who lived
Book 2: The Chamber of secrets
"I'm really glad to see you, Harry. Come in the kitchen, you must be hungry."
Molly Weasley, Harry Potter et la Chambre des Secrets, page 41
Author's notes: This chapter is just as big as the Weasley family!! HUGE!!! 17 pages!! Enjoy it!
Chapter 2: Welcome to the Burrow. Population, many, many, many.
"…right down… back…"
"…kins ran right in yelling… "HARRY!!"… romantic…"
"…up, ..red!!"
Everything was fuzzy for Harry Potter when he woke up. The world around him was a very dark place, not in the evil sense but in the pitch-black, "Erm… where's my nose?" sense. His body felt like it had went ten times in the throughout wash cycle in a slightly too violent industrial shredder… erm… washing machine. His arms felt like rocks, his legs had apparently ran a marathon without him, his stomach was being assaulted by a dozen jackhammers minimum, while his head felt like the big Ben tower stuck in a time loop at midnight.
…he didn't quite feel all right.
Slowly, Harry's mind woke up. After the initial 'Who am I? Where am I?' questions were halfway answered, he decided to try to guess where he was. First, what had happened.
…He had been starved, got rescued by the Weasleys. Harry almost groaned in annoyance; just great, a debt.
…Which probably meant he was at the Weasley house.
"Lay him on the couch," A female voice said. "I'll be in the kitchen… George, honestly. I don't know if tying that snake to his arm is your idea of a joke, but this isn't the time…"
"It's not me, mom!!" The twin's voice said. "He had that snake on when we got him out of there! And it almost bit my hand off when I tried to take it off!"
Harry would have smirked had his face not felt like it was made out of metal.
"It's his pet." A voice Harry easily recognized as Ron's, said. "I saw it last year. Gave 'mione and I quite a scare, too."
"Fhmm… I hope it's safe."
"Nooo, I'll jussst go right up and tear you a new one, chhhhubby." Nemesis's voice hissed sarcastically.
He felt someone take his hand and hoped fervently it wasn't one of the brothers.
"He's so thin… what in the name of Merlin's staff have they been feeding him!?"
"I don't think it's much of anything." One of the twins said. While identifying them with the eyes open was a feat, doing so with closed eyes was nearly impossible.
"That almost excuses your behavior, although you could have rescued him some other way." The voice he identified as Mrs Weasley said. "Now, the three of you go out and de-gnome the garden… and no deserts!"
The three boys groaned and heavy footsteps made their way away.
"Disgusting what those stupid people did to him…" Mrs Weasley grumbled. He felt a hand feel his ribs. "Mustn't have been fed correctly for a week!"
"What's going on?" Another female voice, much higher than the previous one, asked, before gasping. "Is that…"
"Yes… your brothers fetched him last night. Don't disturb them, they'll miss a few gnomes."
"Y-Yes mom."
"He's got five brothers and one little sister. She'll be here next year." Hermione had said, last year.
…so that was probably the little sister, unless the other brother had a really high set voice. Or wore tights.
After another feel of his ribs, Mrs Weasley let out a disgusted grumble. "Ginny, you make sure he gets everything he wants. In his condition, he shouldn't even try to move."
"Y-Y… 'kay…" The girl did an excellent impersonation of Quirrell.
"Oh, and Harry? No need to hide that you're awake." The woman added, before leaving.
In surprise, Harry's eyes whipped open, only to regret it as light flooded his eyes. He groaned and looked away from the offending window. Quick steps ran straight to it and the sound of moving cloth was heard. The light dimmed enough for Harry to try to look around, only to see nothing but blurs. For a moment, he was afraid he had gone blind out of malnutrition, but then remembered he wore glasses, which were currently absent from his face.
"erm… Ginny?" He croaked. "…glasses…"
'God I sound like an idiot…' he grumbled mentally.
The girl 'eep'ed and, not a second later, a shaking pair of hands put the glasses on his face. Smiling slightly, he took his first look at her.
'Yup, a Weasley.' Was his first impression.
She had the freckles and long, red hair typical to a Weasley, framing a round face decorated by worried-looking brown eyes. She was dressed in a pink, old robe that seemed faded on many spots.
…other interesting detail, the fierce blush covering her cheeks was something to be noted and revered in it's redness. It nearly could compete with the girl's hair.
Harry smiled a bit and nodded. "Thank you." He croaked, before clearing his throat. "Erm.. could I get something to drink, please?"
The girl nodded very, very quickly – Harry expected her to knock herself out from the whiplash – and scampered away in the kitchen. The boy couldn't help but chuckle amusedly.
Few minutes later, the girl carefully trekked back, carrying a… *gulp* rather very full glass of water. If by that you mean filled to the brim and beyond. It looked like the girl had forgot it under the water. Dunking it in a well would have done the same drenching effect.
"H-h-here y-you g-go!" She stuttered, handing him the water rather roughly… and spilling half of it all over him. "S-SORRY!!" She squeaked.
Harry grinned pleasantly, shrugging. "I needed a shower anyway." He noted.
…yes, it was so much fun to toy with crushing girls. Just seeing that already phenomenal blush get worse was something enjoyable.
Harry had to hand it to the Weasley family. Their house was small, cozy and had that warm atmosphere that just screamed "HOME!" with a megaphone and rock concert speakers. While they didn't have much, they used whatever they had to the maximum, and knew how to make someone feel welcome, although he knew the feeling was unanimous; The prefect Weasley, who was called Percy – Harry had to resist an almighty snigger when the boy had curtsied and declared his name like a royal letter – obviously didn't trust him and/or Nemesis.
"Why don't you take that… thing out before it bites someone?" The boy had 'proposed' in tones more likely to be used by aunt Petunia. "Who knows what kind of diseases it can carry!"
"Lesss zzzan you, you walking carrot!" The snake retorted. Harry barely resisted a snigger at the mental picture.
"Don't worry Weasley, he's perfectly safe." Harry reassured him. "As long as you can it with the insults."
The boy paled a couple of shades and quickly left. Harry almost expected to hear a wail of 'MOOOM! That bad Slytherin's playing with simple mind!'.
Everything in the house seemed completely out of control. The Dursleys had always wanted everything to be completely still; Harry expected them to hire a scientist to stop gravity and time in their house – in perfectly muggle ways of course – anytime soon. Even the Zabini's house had a sense of order to it, although the last time he had seen it, it had been half littered with unopened boxes from their recent move.
No. The Burrow was, bar Hogwarts, the most chaotic area he had ever seen. Although he felt quite too weak to move, more than once he asked the little Ginny "What was that?" after hearing either an explosion – "Fred and George's room… nobody quite knows what they're doing in there" – metallic clangs – "The ghoul in the attic. It makes noise whenever it feels it's too calm in here." – or voices – "It's probably the mirror yelling at Ron about either his jacket, pants or hair, whichever it thinks is worse."
Each reply said with an air of banality as if all of this was perfectly normal.
…and he soon learned it was.
For the first few days, he was bedridden to the couch in the living room, which was rendered highly comfortable by a few well maintained cushioning charms, probably the same ones preventing him from feeling the springs of the old and battered sofa.. His first meeting with Mr Weasley was a rather interesting one, as Ginny had been by his side, asking him if he wanted something.
Ron had promptly assigned to that duty, much to both boy's annoyance. Ginny was much more fun to play around with, while Ron didn't at all want to play his lapdog. Add to it the fact that most of their time was spent playing chess, it made Harry want to smash those darn pawns with something else than the queen's club.
And Weasley had to win and rub it in every time.
Great friend he was, if you weren't playing chess against him.
Fortunately, after the first week had passed, Harry was finally allowed to move around by 'nurse Molly'. It wasn't that he didn't like her, certainly not. She was nice, friendly, a much, much better cook than Petunia ever was, probably coming from years of experience stuffing eight hungry mouths and cared about him, which was a nice change from the Dursleys.
…however, she also had a protective streak larger than madam Pomfrey's, and while she was even smaller than Harry, that glare of hers…
Harry still shuddered at the thought.
A week and a half after his installation in the Burrow, an owl flew straight at him during a Quidditch game, chaser only. While Harry was very confident in his abilities as Seeker, being a Chaser was an entirely different story; Little Ginny, who stubbornly decided to play, was even better than he was.
"If the Gryffs use her on their team, we might be in trouble." Harry grumbled under his breath.
He easily recognized the owl. An eagle owl with creamy white feathers with brown wings, along with red eyes and a killer glare, it was the Zabini family's owl, Athena. She landed on his arm and held out a letter for him.
"Ok, ok… let me land first." He said, heading down. The owl rolled her eyes and lowered it's talon.
As soon as he landed, she cut the small rope holding the letter to her talon with her beak, dropping it in his hand, before stretching her wings and leaving. Harry had the feeling the owl didn't like him much, for some reason.
Harry shrugged. Antisocialism was apparently not a solely human concept.
Unfolding the letter, he was surprised to see a dark green bandanna fall on the floor. Noting that the paper had writing on it, he began to read.
Harry,
WE'RE BACK!!! The word was written at least six times, tainting the letter on the other side. Harry chuckled. Heard you got rescued by the Dursleys. We would have cursed them, but they were already gone… they bought a villa in a place called Majorca, to use as a summer house away from us. Useless fat cowards they are.
I had sent you a birthday present, but when we arrived, it was on the table, along with the rest of your presents. We have no idea how this could have happened, but I do think that you know, and that you're going to tell me. Otherwise, I can't assure your safety.
We'll be coming over the burrow tomorrow, with the presents. Get ready for a belated birthday party, Potter-boy!
Oh, and the bandanna's your present from me; with that, people won't be able to stare at your scar.
Love,
Blaise.
Harry gave a mental thank you at Blaise, looking at the bandanna. It was dark green, a perfect tone for a Slytherin, and bore the emblem of a silver snake, coiled up and ready to strike. He liked it. A second later, it was over his forehead.
The next morning, Harry found himself being woken up by frantic shaking from his roommate.
"C'mon, you log!" Ron said. "Wake up!"
"Weasley, shake me one more time and I swear I'll tie your arms so far behind your back you'll be able to touch the big Ben and the Eiffel tower at the same time!" The black-haired boy growled, glaring at his friend.
For good measure, Ron gave him a rough shove that sent him sprawling back in his pillow. Harry almost fell asleep again, but the impact of another pillow against his nose prevented said rest from happening.
Annoyed, Harry opened his eyes. The sky visible through the thin curtains covering the window on the tilted roof hadn't even lost that yellow morning tint. The sun had barely got up.
"What are you waking me up for?!" Harry growled, sitting up. Nemesis was still well coiled in the makeshift bed, which was only a transfigured rug forming a mattress and one of the older brother's – who didn't live in the house anymore – blankets. Much more luxurious than a cupboard, that much was certain.
"Your birthday, you dope!" Ron said.
"Ehh?" Harry blinked, remembering the letter. "Oh! Yeah…"
"Geez, aren't you the bright and early one."
"Exactly. I'm not. Waking up a five bloody hours in the morning is not my idea of the best way to start a morning."
"Actually, it's six thirty. Mrs Zabini wrote and said she'd be coming extra-early, saying that Blaise wanted to catch up to you."
"Blaise? Waking up early? Not likely." Harry noted.
After getting dressed, the two boys went down in the kitchen, where the rather enormous family, not in the fat sense, but in the numerous sense, was seated, already busy devouring whatever food those long, lanky arms could reach. Harry and Ron sat on side-by-side seats, between Ginny and George… or was it Fred?
…not that it matters much…
Ok. One of the twins. In front of him, Harry had to handle looking at Percy Weasley cutting his egg with a knife, sitting on the height of arrogance. And on the other side of the prefect, the other twin was exaggeratedly imitating his older brother, opening his mouth large enough to make adventurers believe it was a safe cave for the night and chewing so obviously a goat would have been jealous. All of this under the annoyed stare of Mrs Weasley, and the amused chuckles of he-who-wears-the-skirt, Mr Weasley.
…figuratively, of course.
…hopefully.
…not that he was interested in what kinky games those two might have in mind.
…but I'm getting out of the subject here.
Harry caught himself grinning rather stupidly most of the breakfast. While, at the Zabini's, it hadn't been anything boring, having breakfast with the crazy, out of control bunch of Gryffindors the Weasley family were was an experience by itself.
…Especially thanks to the twins, and particularly when the prefect had noticed his twin brother's antics and had chewed him up on how important manners were before guests – although he had been far from being a good example beforehand – completely missing the other twin switching his toast for a rather realistic-looking identical roasted slice of bread… made out of rubber, of course.
Which the prefect had almost finished eating, all the while commenting on the freshness of said toast, when the guilty twin revealed his prank.
Brown freckles stand out on a pale face, did you know that, dear reader?
As the prefect brother ran off to empty his stomach, Harry heard a loud fiery rushing sound, coming from the living room.
"What the…"
"Ah, that must be the Zabinis!" Mr Weasley said with a smile, getting up.
Harry immediately understood. Floo powder. He had taken the bumpy mean of transportation the previous year.
A rather loud "Thump" was heard, accompanied by some unladylike cursing that could only have come from Blaise's mouth. Another thump came, then another, before a quite annoyed
"Will you two kindly get off of me?!"
came to the kitchen.
Harry felt his heart soar. Quickly, he pushed himself away from the table and dashed into the living room, where a disgruntled Blaise was being helped up by her father.
She hadn't changed much in the month he hadn't been able to see her. Her skin was slightly more tanned than he had expected it to be; from what she had written, she had been locked indoors most of the time. Her wild mane of cherry-black hair was exactly as he remembered it, and so were her annoyed, chestnut-brown eyes.
Mrs Zabini, who was currently chuckling nervously, under the frown of her daughter, was also more tanned than he remembered, although not nearly as much as Blaise was. With those two standing side-by-side, it was almost like seeing the same person argue with a smaller version of itself – or taller, you choose. Only Mrs Zabini's dark green eyes were different.
And watching it all, with a dejected sigh, Mr Zabini passed a hand through his black hair, his black eyes rolling upwards in exasperation. He gave a small smile at Harry,
"Be glad you didn't have to stand this during the whole summer." He mouthed, causing the black-haired youth to snort.
Blaise's eyes turned toward him and her small frown turned into a delighted grin.
"Harry!!" She shrieked, bounding forward and tackling him straight to the floor, hugging him tightly.
"O-Oi!" Harry blushed. "What's that for?"
"What, can't be happy to see you?" Blaise asked.
"You can, but you can be happy to see me without trying to kill me!"
The girl snickered and got up, pulling him upwards with her. She patted his ribs and growled.
"Next time I see the Dursleys, they're in for a nasty surprise." She mumbled.
"Ran off to Majorca, did they?"
"Heard they'll stay there during the summers. I don't know if I should be glad or happy. I mean, great, we won't see them, but how are we supposed to get our revenge?"
Harry smirked back. "Oh, we will, Blaise. Nobody messes with us Slyths and gets away with it."
"Slyths?" Ginny asked from behind Harry. "You're a Slytherin?"
"Was, Am and Will be. And proud of it, too." The boy replied with a small smirk and wink.
Blaise whipped her hands around Harry's neck in a playful hug, looking at Ginny from over his shoulder, a glint in her eyes not unlike a butcher before a piece of meat.
"And same goes for me." She said, smirking. "Snakes all the way."
The red-head girl suddenly looked quite uneasy. With a small "'scuse me", she dashed up the twisting stairway, up to her room. Blaise gave a snort.
"Yup, Gryffindor all the way. She wouldn't last half a second on Slytherin." Blaise said.
"Well, you never know… 'Beware the quiet ones'." Harry quoted.
"Ginny? Quiet?!" Ron asked disbelievingly.
"My point exactly. You never know how right she might be. Very, extremely or completely." Harry said, sending his two friends in laughter.
Blaise was the first to recover, giving a look at Harry and noting, with visible glee, that he was wearing the bandanna.
"So?" Blaise asked, pointing at it. "How is it?"
"Feels a bit weird, but I think I'll get used to it." He replied with a grin. "Thanks, it'll make going out in public a much more comfortable thing."
"Yes, mister Super star. Would you like your false nose and mustache, too?" Ron asked with a wry grin.
Harry snorted. Ron was trying to sound cleaver?
'Poor sod is being corrupted, and he doesn't even notice it.' Harry thought with a mental smirk.
"Ok, then, you got Blaise's present." Mrs Zabini said. "Now, it's time to open the others."
And only now did Harry notice the trunk. It looked like any other trunk, except for the fact that it had seven locks instead of just one. The woman took out a key and placed it in front of the locks.
"Lessee… was it the third…"
"Fifth, love." Mr Zabini reminded.
"Oh, right." She mumbled, turning the fifth lock before opening the trunk, revealing…
…clothes. Lots of them.
And not all of them were mentionnables.
"That was the second lock, Elmira." Mr Zabini noted with a slight smirk.
Grumbling and blushing slightly, making sure to hide what looked like a rather… skimpy outfit, Mrs Zabini shut the trunk with a thud, opening the lock on the other side before opening it again.
And the content was different.
Instead of robes, shirts, pants and unmentionables, a pile of wrapped up presents welcomed him.
A minute later, Harry was greedily ripping the wrapping to shred, ignoring the burrowed Nemesis's complaints and continuing to pile up the unfortunate paper on top of him. Hermione had sent him a book, big surprise, called "Useful, practical or just plain nasty Hexes and curses, edition 1992.", along with a recommendation to "Please not use it at Hogwarts."
…which was thoroughly ignored.
Hagrid had sent him a bunch of his culinary wonders, the rock cakes, called this way because of their ability to efficiently emulate the wonders of masonry. Of course, this also meant that it was perfectly impossible to eat, unless you had teeth of steel and a stomach of titanium. Which Harry didn't.
Ron had given him a book on Quidditch. Of course, it didn't have any strategies, at least not for seekers. It was also concentrated on the Chudley cannons, which was not Harry's favorite team. By far.
His Hogwarts letter was also on the pile; apparently, he had received it on his birthday, like the first one. The shopping list felt unusually heavy, however. With puzzlement, he unfolded the letter.
"Err…" Ron suddenly emitted.
"Don't tell me you didn't read it." Blaise said.
Ron grumbled. "With all the mess around getting Harry back, I forgot all about it."
"You and us, both." Fred and George chorused rather eerily. Harry gave a look at them, wondering if they were one of those pairs who could read each other's minds.
For their sake, Harry read it out loud.
"Mister Potter
It's our pleasure to inform you that you've been allowed to continue your education at Hogwarts, school of yada yada yada, always the same stuff, platform 9¾ at 11. Geez, old McGonnaFlip must get bored to write always the same thing year after year."
Ron snorted, under the disapproving glance of his mother and Percy. Harry returned to the letter.
"Second year students must also acquire the following books:
Standard book of spells, grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk
Break with the banshees by Gilderoy Lockhart
Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart
Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart
Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart
Wandering with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart
And a Year with the Yeti by… guess who? Yes! Gilderoy Lockhart, you guessed right. Sheesh, how many books did that guy write?!"
"Lots." Fred flatly replied.
"Well, he is quite talented. He knows everything about dangerous creatures."
Mrs Zabini snorted. "That's not how I remember him. Last I heard, he's the one responsible for turning Flitwick's hair white. A complete failure in anything that requires a wand."
Mrs Weasley gave the other woman a wounded look, clutching "Gilderoy Lockhart's guide to household pets" in her arms. The man in the picture, a blue-eyed, blonde man with a blindingly white smile, gave a wink at them, bending so he could see them under Mrs Weasley's arms.
"Last time you saw him, he was just a second year." Mrs Weasley defended. "He must have got better."
Mrs Zabini shrugged. "I'll keep my opinions until I see how he is in action."
"Whoever our new teacher is, it's a Lockhart fan." Ron noted.
"Probably a woman." Harry guessed. "I hope he at least knows what he's doing in those books, if we're going to be using those to learn."
"One thing's for sure," Blaise said. "this sure is a great way for Lockhart to make easy money. Think about it, if every student of Hogwarts buys all those books…"
Fred and George gave each other thoughtful looks, along with small smirks.
"'course, you need to actually be able to write decently." Blaise added, giving them a smirk. "And teach."
The two twins' face fell. Apparently, they did not want to write anything even remotely educational.
Soon, Blaise had took out the vacation pictures she had taken with her magical camera, the same one she had received for Christmas the previous year.
"This is mom's sister, Esta. She's the only one who's actually fun to be around with. Problem is, she lives a bit far from Rome, where all the others live. We didn't stay very long there."
Giving a look at the picture, Harry saw a small, short dark cherry-haired woman giving a large smile at the camera while waving cheerfully. Behind her and a small cottage that was evidently her house, alpine mountains could be seen.
He flipped the photograph to look at the title.
"Auntie Esta Zabini!" Was written in Blaise's scrawl.
"Zabini?" Harry asked, looking up. "How come she's got your name? Aren't your parents married?"
"I asked mom about that, she said dad's the one who changed his name at marriage." The girl replied. "Something about legal reasons. I didn't ask more."
While, except for this one, the pictures of her family on the wizarding side were rather dull – Where the heck did Mrs Zabini get that active gene from?! – the other side was all the opposite.
"All of dad's brothers and sisters decided to live near the coast, except for the youngest one. Heard he decided to head somewhere in France, we don't get much news from him." She said. "You have no idea how much I swam!!"
"Isn't the Mediterranean all… dirty and polluted?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, well… Mom casts quick cleaning wards on the water every time she goes there. Not too big, just enough to be fun." Blaise explained. "'course, keep it quiet, she's not supposed to do magic in front of muggles, even if they know about he—aahh, hello Mister Weasley!!" Blaise suddenly seemed extremely sheepish, before clearing her face and taking an expressionless mask to gaze at the tall Weasley patriarch.
The man snorted. "I'm in charge of that in Britain. Not in Italy. She can do whatever she wants over there, as long as she doesn't get caught by those authorities."
"Arthur!!" Molly Weasley, in the kitchen close by, gasped in shocked exasperation.
"Erm… I mean… it's veeeery bad, Mrs Zabini." He told her to where she was, watching her husband help an unwilling and embarrassed Mrs Weasley cook – "I really don't mind, I always cook at home… though you do cook faster than me with all that magic."
Blaise's mother snorted. "Indeed. And please, call me Elmira, Mr Weasley."
"Only if you call me Arthur."
The afternoon was spent playing Quidditch. Blaise, Harry and Ron faced off against Fred, George and Ginny in a simple two chaser game, which, mostly because of the little girl, ended in the twins' favor.
"Serious potential competition, that girl." Blaise noted, flying down from her defense of the hoops. "Let's hope she doesn't pull a Potter and ends up flying against us in her first year."
"Thought as much." Harry agreed.
Supper was just as lively as breakfast and dinner. Percy declared, loudly and pompously in the middle of the meal, that he had homework – and the word was said in such a fashion it made Harry start to wonder if having to do homework had become an honor – and that he was going back to his room, removing the twins' best source of entertainment.
…which was probably the whole point. Looking like an idiot in front of family was bad enough. In front of guests, it would probably be horrid, at least to the stuck-up prefect Weasley.
Shining in his absence, Percy left the way clear for the twins to annoy their second favorite victim, Ginny. Of course, Harry decided to humor the girl and defended her, just to see that cardinal tint on her cheeks. Blaise, seeing the effect Harry was having on her, snickered.
"You're a mean, mean evil bastard." She whispered.
"Thank you so very much." Harry replied.
The adults were all loudly speaking on their side. Their jobs, the recent rises in prices, the magico-political situation –"Fudge is an absolute idiot. 'nuff said."– were all used subjects, with many others skipped, as Harry wasn't paying too much attention to them. However, he did notice that Mrs Zabini's glass never had the same level of wine in it each time he looked, whether it be more or less, while Mr Zabini's glass was empty and staying that way.
…as the night progressed, the woman's face was getting more and more flushed. Her speech, so Harry noticed, also became sloppy. Fortunately, the topic stayed in sane levels; his mind would have stood up to the challenge of hearing her make loud declaration on something private, say, her night life.
In the middle of a tirade against Fudge – it seemed she had quite a healthy dislike for the man, whether she was drunk or not – to the embarrassment of her husband, her speech suddenly dropped. So did her head, actually.
*Thump*
Blaise groaned and sighed, rubbing her temples. "Mooom…" She sighed.
"…does that happen often?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Not really, but it so embarrassing when it does." She replied. "She can't keep her liquor."
"Can't cook, can't play music, can't hold her liquor and has a temper to kill." Ron listed.
Blaise gave him a deadly glare. "Don't you dare comment on my mother, freckle-boy."
"I wasn't!" He defended himself vehemently, before throwing himself directly in the fire pit with a misplaced "I was wondering exactly how much of her you take after."
After Ron received a sharp slap behind the head, courtesy of a bright pink Blaise who was under the twins' general guffaws, Mr Weasley turned toward Mr Zabini.
"Dario, I think it's best if you and your wife stay here for the night."
"Oh, no, really, I wouldn't—"
"Please." Mrs Weasley insisted. "It's not a bother at all."
Harry gave a look at the either damaged or outdated furniture, then at the obviously poor, yet homey environment of the burrow.
'No wonder they're poor… they're so generous.' Harry mused, before snorting. 'They're targets for suckers. A Slytherin in their family would do them some good.'
Mr Zabini gave in after Mrs Zabini attempted to roll to rest her other side, her subconscious not being informed that the chair was on was certainly not a large bed. Few minutes later, she was picked off the floor and taken to the empty room that used to belong to Bill Weasley, the eldest brother currently working in Egypt.
"Blaise, I hope you don't mind sleeping in Ginny's room." Mrs Weasley said. "we would give you Charlie's room, but I'm afraid of what kind of secrets you can find in that pigsty."
Blaise snorted and nodded, turning to Ginny. "'f it's all right with her."
"It's ok." She replied.
Harry went to sleep that night, completely exhausted. The party had lasted what felt like forever. His body felt like a bag of lead by the time he crashed in his bed, and he didn't to wake up until the next century or later.
Slowly, he felt himself relax. The night was a bit warm, but the cool breeze floating through the open window on the wall cooled the air down just enough to make it comfortable for the two boys.
Slowly, Harry felt his body relax. The pains of the day eased away, replaced by a pleasurable numbness. He closed his eyes, concentrating only on the mild sounds of the house; the ticking of the pendulum-less, numberless clock downstairs, the small snoring of the other boy in the room, the chirping of crickets from outside, accompanied by the splashing of something falling in the water…
…eh?
Harry blinked and, curious, sat up to look outside through the window. Annoyed of being too short, he had to get up to get a good look at something else than the full moon.
There, by the river running between the magical farm and the nearby town, was a single, blurry… ehh… something. After putting his glasses on, Harry managed to identify it as human, but it was too far to make out who.
'A Thief, maybe?' Harry thought, frowning. The Weasley family already didn't have much, he wasn't about to let some thief take something else.
…and besides, he had a debt to settle.
Wand in hand, Harry slipped down the stairs, after making sure to put on socks for silence's sake. The steps were a bit creaky, so Harry made sure to be as light as he could; no need waking the Weasleys up.
With no interruptions except for his near miss at murdering Errol, the Weasley's old owl, by trampling, he made it outside, where he was grateful it hadn't rained in a while. Having his socks wet wouldn't have been a good thing at all.
He easily reached the river, whereupon he analyzed his target.
…it was Blaise.
Relaxing his hold on his wand, Harry let it slip into his pocket, before clearing his throat, attracting her attention.
Normally, Blaise, at that, would have jumped, glared at him and told him – Verbally accompanied with a tap behind the head – not to startle her.
…normally.
She barely jumped, turning to face him with wide awake brown eyes.
"Harry! I didn't hear you."
Harry shrugged nonchalantly, walking up to her. "I'm good at not being noticed."
She gave him a disbelieving look. He blushed slightly.
"…when people aren't looking at my scar, I mean. And when I'm not kicking ass or taking the snitch or… ugh. You know what I mean."
The girl giggled and patted the grass at her side, where Harry sat down. For a moment, neither talked. Blaise was unnaturally calm, and he couldn't help but wonder why. Absentmindedly, the girl flicked a small stone in the river, staring at the reflect of the moon.
"You're being awfully silent tonight." Harry noted.
Blaise shrugged and lay down on her back, staring at the sky. "It's a full moon."
"So? Don't tell me you started taking astronomy seriously." Harry teased.
The girl smiled a bit and shook her head. "Naa. Not in this lifetime anyway. Maybe if I come back as a centaur though."
Both chuckled a bit, Harry laying down beside her. The grass around the river was a bit more humid and cold than the one around the farm, but not that much. It was an awfully hot summer.
"I've always felt calmer during full moon nights." Blaise declared. "Don't ask me why, it's one of the few things I don't have in common with my mom."
"What? She's never calm?"
"Are you kidding me?" She asked disbelievingly. "Getting drunk at an acquaintance's house in front of her own daughter, and you think she might be calm sometimes?" Her tone didn't have any bitterness to it. All the contrary, in fact. She was downright holding her laughter.
"I guess I can't even picture it. Except if she's sleeping."
"Then you've never heard of that time when she fell off the bed and pulled dad down with her." Blaise noted, chuckling, looking back up.
"Must have been quite a sight." Harry mused, imitating her.
"Oh, I didn't actually see it, but I heard plenty enough."
After a short bout of laughter, Harry turned to Blaise.
"Your mom has to be the coolest adult ever."
"I second that notion." Blaise agreed.
And, a short while later, the two fell asleep under the starry night, Harry wondering of how his life would have been had he been raised by the Zabinis.
'She's the coolest, when she isn't embarrassing herself.' Was Harry's last thought.
~~*~~
ANSWERS TO THE AKUMA-SAMA WORSHIPPING SHRINES OF THE REVIEWERS:
Lily Black(Beta): Yes, yes, apologize! You're half the reason why it took so long for me to update ^_-.
Stewart: I had to admit I didn't like last chapter much either. It came out butchered. I might just re-write it later. Along with the first chapter of the first book. *sigh* Not my best works.
Kathleen: I don't know myself, actually! *shrug* I just don't like him for a reason even I don't know.
RaistlinofMetallica: Slyth!Harry IS pretty cool, I know.
Sk8reagle: *Blink* Erm… what do you mean, Dumbledore's challenge? *Blinkies*
Shireen Mclean: *Blink* Erm… thanks for forgiving me, hope you forgive me again for THIS wait ^_^;;;. I kinda noticed you were sugar high. And it's Biscuit ^_-.
[Book4Hermione]: Ahh! An elf torturer!! Bad Shireen!! Bad Akuma!! Bad… erm… wait, he's the author… I'd better not piss him off…
…good choice, 'mione. ^_- *Blink* Interesting motto, I like it… both of them, I mean! True, you must never eat a blue ham sandwich. *Blush* Thanks! Shameless plug on your side ^_-. Thanks, I do my best!
Jordan: *Snicker* Answer has been replied.
Flummox: *Smirk* Ooh, I'm getting a mental picture there… Dobby dressed as a smurf. Hehehe. Lol, true, Dobby torture should be an Olympic sport actually ^_-. Along with 'house-elf throwing'. Or maybe 'BasketElf'? With the elf as the ball? *BLINK & SWEATDROP* erm… Yes, you ARE in my faves! I will try to ignore the fact that I'm being tackled by a figure in a straightjacket. LOL, yes, build my shrine!!! *Blink* Erm… ok, Wolfie-chan ^_-.
Blackheart Sayoran: Interesting, Tom Riddle as Harry… You piqued my curiosity, not that it's hard to do ^_-. Tell me when you post it!
VMorticia: *Snicker* I knew you'd recognize yourself ^_-
Dobby walks up to the reviewer's answer board, glaring at Draco. "And he did throw the switch. Repeatedly."
"Scram off, you." Akuma-sama's self-willingly demonic voice declared, sending a sound kick against Dobby's lower backside, to be polite.
