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The Snake-who-lived
Book 3: Prisoner of Azkaban
Chapter 4: Correspondence
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Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was a man of great wisdom. Indeed, it was rumored that the unlikely event of Dumbledore not knowing what to do in a crisis would be a signal for the world to begin undoing itself. So great was everyone's confidence in him that any mistakes that could even lightly be attributed to his part were vehemently pushed to whoever else could have messed up, or simply down to a bout of bad luck.
However, contrary to popular beliefs, he did make mistakes sometimes. And that morning, he couldn't help but wonder if he had done one in the selection of the staff members of the school, and particularly so of the man sitting before him. Oh, he had absolute confidence in his teaching skills, and his loyalty was doubtless and nearly spotless, but his history had left the man in a peculiar and rather volatile state.
Severus Snape was sitting in the comfy overstuffed seat in front of his desk, in the middle of his 'Museum of Magical Messes', also known as the headmaster's office, as he had done countless times before. For a grown man, he had the strange habit of relying on Dumbledore's advice like a confused child and, as if to counterbalance it, completely ignored everyone else's, much to their chagrin.
This time, however, it was not about a personal problem of his that Severus had ventured into his office. Well, not directly, at least. As it was nearly customary at this time of the year – Dumbledore had once considered marking the day every year to compare his punctuality – he was critiquing the old headmaster's choice for the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. This time, however, he seemed to be especially adamant about it. Even more so than the previous year, and that was saying something.
"I maintain my decision, Severus." He told the potion master.
"I mean… you know what he is, professor Dumbledore! He's—"
"A man I respect, a man I trust as much as I do you, a man who can tell a very mean bar joke and that is afflicted with an unfortunate condition—"
"That's putting it mildly." Snape sneered. "He's a bloody werewolf, and you're letting him close to the children under your care, Dumbledore! I wonder what the parents will think of you once they learn—"
"If I was bothered in any way by what people think of me, I would never have become headmaster of this school, Severus. You'd be surprised of the letters I receive sometimes. Just last week, there was a funny one that claimed that Herbology was, quote, 'too dangerous and should not be taught to teenagers'. Parents are often too protective of their children…"
"We're not talking about Flesh-eating Brussels sprouts, Dumbledore! We're talking about a Werewolf." Snape shot back sharply. "None of them would agree to have their children with—"
"And none of them would agree if I hired a less competent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, especially not with Sirius Black on the loose." The headmaster countered. Check.
"You could make me—"
"And deprive the poor students of learning potions under one of the best masters in Britain? I think I'd receive more complaints from that than anything else."
Snape was perfectly aware of his reputation and thus doubted that fact very much. "I thought you didn't care—"
"I never said I cared about the complaints. However, the students' education is very important to me."
"They won't agree to Lupin either." 'Hah, let him try to counter that one!'
"I wouldn't be so sure." Dumbledore lifted his hand, stopping Severus from interrupting him again. "After suffering under Lockhart last year, I believe learning under one of the rare students to have had a grade higher than one hundred and thirty in his Defense Against the Dark Arts OWLs this century will be a blessing."
Check.
Snape seethed and shot Dumbledore a dirty glare. On one hand, he couldn't deny that Remus J. Lupin knew a lot about Defense Against the Dark Arts – hell, had he not hated the man so, he would have acknowledged it and recommended his knowledge to others in need. In Snape's mind, there was no greater praise than this.
However, since he hated Lupin, despised the ground he walked on, would have gladly poisoned the air he breathed – with silver nitrate fumes, preferably before it entered his system – and would have much preferred going through a session of being an experimental torture victim to the sadistic and devilish Bellatrix Lestrange than giving him praise, he felt obligated to object.
"And how do you expect Mr. Lupin would hide his… monthly problem?" Snape jibed, rolling his eyes.
Check against Dumbledore, this time. It wasn't like hiding the fact that you were a werewolf was easy to do if you taught Defense Against the Dark Arts to every student in the school. There seemed to be an unwritten rule saying that no teacher's evening would be spent peacefully without being interrupted by students coming to ask questions or kiss up for better grades – especially Ravenclaws.
…Snape was understandably the greatest exception to this rule, and he was quite proud of that fact. Unless Lupin had done a complete one-eighty since the last time they had seen each other, he was still a big softie that would be bothered every step of the way, and thus would immediately attract attention with his monthly absences.
"Oh, you see, Mister Lupin seems to suffer from poor health in his old age," Dumbledore replied, pretending to read the words from a letter he had been writing before getting interrupted and that had nothing to do with any lycanthropes. "Every once in a while, his sickness becomes unbearable and he simply cannot be approached or asked to teach."
Counter.
Snape sneered at the words; a fabricated story, no doubt it would stop less clever students' suspicions and satisfy their curiosity. However, he knew it wouldn't last very long for some students… like, say, a certain group of soon-to-be-third years…
…besides. Old age?! They were both only thirty-two!
"Is he going to use the shrieking shack again?" He asked. "How are you going to explain the noise?"
Check.
Dumbledore nodded. "The rowdy ghosts decided to make their comeback."
Counter.
"And his other's side… self-mutilating tendencies?" Snape allowed himself a smirk. There was no way a simple sickness would explain the hideous self-inflicted claw wounds that covered Lupin's body after a transformation.
Check.
Dumbledore smiled. "Ah, this is where you come in. I believe you know about the Wolfsbane potion?"
Block…
Huffing as if it was an insult to his intelligence, Severus Snape, Hogwarts' Potion master and one of the best brewers in Britain, whose talents had attracted the attention of illustrious men such as Albus Dumbledore and, unfortunately, Lord Voldemort, immediately nodded. "Of course I have. The theory behind it was my NEWT essay, after all. It's a very difficult and tricky potion that takes five weeks to brew, based on powdered Aconite leaves diluted by---" He stopped, his normally sharp mind apparently catching up to his usually tame mouth.
"You're… telling me…" Snape began, seething at the thought, "that I'm going to slave over my cauldrons… every month… so this… this… man-" any other word would have attracted the old man's ire, "can…"
"Can teach the students how to defend themselves against anything the dark side might send against them." Dumbledore interrupted, smiling serenely. Inwardly, however, he was chuckling. Severus normally had great control over himself, but when it came to potions and having his considerable knowledge of the subject scorned, he tended to overreact.
"Are you saying you don't believe you can manage to brew it properly—"
Feint…
"Of course I can," Snape immediately snapped, insulted, before realizing he had fallen into the old man's trap. "That doesn't mean—"
"Thank you, Severus," A chuckle came from Dumbledore without hampering his polite interruption while Severus raged and cursed him mentally, "I knew I could rely on your cooperation."
…and checkmate.
'Curse you old man…' Snape mentally hissed.
"Hmm… winter is coming early, this year…" Dumbledore trailed off innocently, noticing the sudden chill in the room.
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Pomona Sprout found herself huffing in anger approximately thirty minutes later, after an irate Severus Snape had burst through the doors of her 'office' in greenhouse one and literally ordered her to grow a yearly supply of a list of ingredients as long as her arm. Honestly, it wasn't like being polite just once in his life would kill him…
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The people in the room were staring at him with looks of skepticism in their eyes. He was well renowned for having solved impossible-looking criminal cases through bumbling around stealthily and hiding his genius until the very end, only to reveal he had figured out absolutely everything in a certainly unorthodox manner. They knew him as the famous private detective 'sleeping beauty' Gilderoy Mouri. Currently, the blonde man was in his 'mystery-solving pose', slumped against a chair, eyes closed and his breathing even. He was deeply asleep, induced by a small tranquilizer needle that had stung the back of his neck.
In front of him were a group of six people. The first was a relatively tall and quite frankly cute Asiatic young woman with mid-neck shiny black hair set in a pageboy cut. She was an expert in karate, having won a few championships, and was the currently sleeping man's daughter, Xu Mouri.
The second, with a neatly groomed and pointed silvery mustache and thick eyebrows, would have made a tall figure, smartly dressed in a maroon suit complete with necktie and matching melon hat as he was, had he measured more than a grand total of two feet and eight inches of height. He was inspector Flitwick, from the Magical London Police Department.
The third and the fourth were both clad in police uniforms, but whereas one was a gentle-mannered tall black haired man with a soft and patient smile on his face, the other was a tough-looking dark red haired woman with a devil-may-care attitude. They were detectives Takagi and Satou, or, to their friends, Dario and Elmira. Additionally, quite secretly from themselves, but not anyone else, they loved each other.
The fifth, Professor Agasa, looked quite out of place among the police officers and detectives. An elderly man with a long silvery beard and glittering blue eyes, he was dressed in a white lab coat. Barely anyone knew, much less called him by his real name of Albus.
No one, that is, except for the sixth and strangest looking person in the group. Clearly female, with rather fluffy neck-length brown hair, a keen and knowledgeable mind and piercing, knowing brown eyes that seemed to have no place on her seven years old face, her name was Ai Haibara. However, very few knew that she was actually the masked personae for the eighteen years old poisonous potion developer in hiding from an international crime syndicate, Hermione Granger.
And behind Gilderoy Mouri was a boy her age – both in appearance and in reality… well, ok. A little younger. The boy, a small… or rather, downright shrimpy first grader with messy black hair, a mysterious lightning-bolt-shaped scar on his forehead and piercing, intelligent green eyes much like those of the little girl, had taken the name of Conan Edogawa in a panic rush soon after having been 'shrunk'. His real name, well hidden from everyone except for a very restricted number of people – including one very annoying boy from Hogsmeade, Draco Hattori, also known as the great detective of the north – was Harry Potter, the great detective of the south…
…who was currently speaking into a snake-shaped silver amulet hanging from his neck. Strangely enough, the sounds that came out were not in the high pitched tones of a child, but in a low, suave voice that apparently belonged to detective Mouri.
"The bloody knife coated with acid in his back, shotgun shells in his head, throwing darts in his neck and eyeballs, Neutron bomb residues in his mouth and the pokémon tapes in the VCR were there only as decoys, to make us look away from the true weapon the murderer used to kill the victim." He was saying.
All eyes, except for the sleeping detective's, went to the large, fallen, bloodied and mutilated mass of the victim, Rubeus Hagrid.
"Then what was the weapon?" Inspector Flitwick squeaked, trying to look important while standing on top of a convenient soap box. For reasons best left unexplained for their sheer obviousness, he failed miserably.
"It was a toothpick." 'Mouri' declared, drawing shocked gasps from his captivated audience. Harry grinned; he had all their attention now. "Using a cleaver stratagem that used the fact that Hagrid was a very large man and that his old table was full of splinters," Conan moved the detective's arm so the hand vaguely pointed at the table that was still covered by that nice and homey-looking real cactus tablecloth, "the murderer injected a deadly poison through his fingers when the victim stung himself on it."
"But how did the murderer know Hagrid would prick himself?" Agasa asked.
"The venom was a Norwegian Ridgeback's. It's Hagrid." Ai explained.
"Oh." Everyone nodded in acceptance. Harry nodded his thanks at Hermione, who nodded back.
"But if what you're saying is true, then the murderer is the last person who visited Hagrid before the tooth fairy discovered the body…" Dario Takagi deduced, "which means that it's—"
"Minerva McGonagall, hands up and no funny business!" Elmira Satou barked, her wand seeming to appear in her left hand.
The elderly woman gave a hard glare at the police officer.
"Sorry professor!" she squeaked and hid behind her hus—boyf—colleague.
The other detective sighed and rubbed his temples with an amused smile.
"Exactly." Harry, still with Gilderoy Mouri's voice, declared. "The murderer is you, Professor McGonagall! And the reason why was… that he broke your favorite teacup when he visited your office last week."
Everyone gasped in surprise, except for McGonagall, Agasa and Ai.
"Within one week, you were able to appropriate everything you needed, most of which can probably still be found in your office. Behind a display glass. In everyone's view. Right under the 'I killed Hagrid' flashing neon sign. After all, if you were found, you were sure to lose your job, end up working at minimum wages as a grumpy cashier at McDonald's or dress up as Barney at children's birthdays until you died from an OD, and quite possibly cost Gryffindor the house cup. You could not risk it."
"But what did she need?" Professor Albus Agasa asked, though his voice and that glint in his eyes gave Conan the impression he knew already.
"A toothpick, a dragon – I believe he was quite glad when I opened his cage and set him loose in the greenhouses – the decoy weapons, a containment chamber for the Pokémon tapes, seven matching sets of matches, the brain cell of a hopeless wannabe trilingual Anime Otaku, a yellow, pink and purple colored flashlight and a bunch of stickers of the Random Black Cat."
McGonagall shrugged. "I love that cat. He's my idol. And the flashlight was so I could find the brain cell. Took me most of the week, actually. "
"So, then. You admit it!" Harry was grinning. He knew it. Justice prevailed once more.
"Of course I do… I'm actually quite proud of how well it worked. I had to use great wile and cunning to make sure Hagrid did not notice the toothpick…"
Flashback:
"Eh? Minerva? What's that thing in yer hand?"
"Oh? That's a poisoned toothpick I intend to kill you with. Your hand, please?"
"Ah...'ere… Ow!"
End Flashback
"There's no way you can escape," Takagi said calmly, stepping in front of the door. "You'd better give up quietly."
"Or you can try resisting and see the consequences," Satou said with a grin, waving her wand. "Please?"
"Miss Zabini, stop this nonsense." McGonagall snapped. "And just what in the world is this—"
"Expelliarmus!" Seven voices shouted at the same time as everyone except Mouri launched the disarming spell at McGonagall, who was sent flying against the wall, dislodging some dust, a bunch of scantly clad fairies – "Come on, Phil! Hurry up!" – an eight-legged rabbit-like thing and an eight foot long black-armored Alien from the rafter overhead. After giving everyone a look with its non-existent eyes, the acid-blooded monster strutted out of the door, quite calmly, the spider-bunny on its clawed heels.
"The hell did those thing come from?!" Detective Satou asked, staring blankly.
Hermione shrugged. "It's Hagrid's house."
"Oh, right."
Inspector Flitwick grunted, trying to pull the much larger Professor McGonagall by her sleeve – and failing miserably.
"Mnhn…" Gilderoy groaned as he stirred. Harry quickly ducked away from behind the man, subtly sliding to stand beside the other neo-first grader, who gave him an amused smile. "What happened?"
"You were bril--… bral…" Xu faltered.
"Brain dead?" Conan suggested in a whisper.
"Brilliant?" Haibara suggested, sniggering.
"Broil ant, dad!" Xu Mouri cheered. Hermione-in-disguise growled and slapped her forehead in frustration. "You catch criminal again!"
"I did?" Gilderoy blinked in confusion, then grinned victoriously. "Oh, of course I did! I am a genius after all."
Nobody could explain the sudden bout of coughing that instantly took them all by surprise.
"Still pretending to fall asleep, eh?" Inspector Flitwick said while trying to clamp a pair of handcuffs that were meant for someone his size on McGonagall's much larger wrist. "I still don't know why you do that…"
The blonde private detective grinned and stood. "Have to keep up with the act, after all. Most don't realize my genius until it's too late, and that's the way I like it."
'Right.' Harry Potter/Conan Edogawa thought with a mental smirk.
Pulling out a pen and paper, Mouri looked seductively at Satou. "Autograph?"
"Eat dung." Elmira replied flatly.
"But one thing I don't know, Gilderoy… how did you figure out what the weapon was?" Flitwick asked while trying to tie up a foot long rope around the unconscious professor.
The man blinked. "Weapon? What weapon? The tapes?"
"No, the toothpick full of extremely dangerous and toxic venom!" Flitwick said, adjusting the resonation gems for the stasis field he was about to install around McGonagall.
"What toothpick… oh, you mean that one? Ow! I just pricked myself…" He blinked. "Oooh… it's… the world… getting fuzzy… I think I'm dying…" And he fell on the floor in a dead faint.
A passing eight years old boy with a blue wool hat gasped, "Oh my god, they killed Mouri!"
"Those bastards!" Xu exclaimed, suddenly gaining a green flap-hat.
And suddenly, apparently without prompting, everyone burst out in laughs, even the mutilated Hagrid and the sealed and demon warded McGonagall…
Ye sure can make interestin' dreams, kiddo…
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…and Harry Potter woke up in a start in number six, privet drive, covered in cold sweat.
"What the…" wiping his sweat-drenched brow with his bandanna. "That's it, I swear I will never eat Mrs. Zabini's late night snacks again… Ugh, need a shower."
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It was a much calmer and cleaner pajama-clad Harry Potter that walked back into the guest room of the Zabini home. He had not dared change it at all, though he knew none of his hosts would mind if he did a little decorating. If anything, Harry was a simple boy and thus the only thing adorning his room was his open trunk, the bed and the small desk on which Hedwig's empty cage stood, beside a handful of open letters from his friends.
It had been quite a surprise; unused as he was of acknowledging his birthday and waiting for presents, he had completely forgotten to give a message to Hermione, Ron and Ginny telling them where they were going. Thus, his friends' presents had waited for him, along with three irate owls, on the windowsill of his room. The three owls, Hedwig, Athena and Errol, had left the packages and letters on the desk, made sure he got them and quickly left.
Hedwig was still giving him the cold shoul—wingblade. As for Athena, she had gone even colder – Harry had spent a few minutes checking for ice on the floor, the other day – and had apparently scolded Mrs. Zabini as soon as she found her. Errol, the Weasley family owl, had simply seemed relieved of being allowed to leave and rest his old hollow bones with his masters.
Unfortunately for him, Ginny's letter had showed Harry that the poor old owl had a long way to go. It had been a simple letter with a newspaper clip tied to it.
The clip had contained a picture of all the Weasleys, smiling and waving at the camera. Harry had barely remembered the extremely freckled face of Charlie Weasley, the dragon rider whom he had briefly met in his first year. There had been another Weasley, clearly adult and even taller than Charlie, holding both twins in a playful headlock. He wore his hair in a long ponytail and had a fang-earring piercing his left earlobe. Harry guessed that one was Bill Weasley, the Gringotts curse-breaker. Ron had been having his hair messed by his mischievously winking little sister and had carried his rat, Scabbers, on his shoulder.
The attached article read this:
MINISTRY OF MAGIC EMPLOYEE SCOOPS GRAND PRIZE
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Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts
Office at the Ministry of Magic, has won the annual Daily
Prophet Grand Prize Galleon Draw.
A delighted Mr. Weasley told the Daily Prophet, 'We will be
spending the gold on a summer holiday in Egypt, where our
eldest son, Bill, works as a curse breaker for Gringotts
Wizarding Bank.'
The Weasley family will be spending a month in Egypt,
returning for the start of the new school year at Hogwarts,
which five of the Weasley children attend.
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Harry had smiled. Although he had a passably neutral relationship with most of the Weasleys, he couldn't help but think that if anyone deserved such luck, it was them. Or the Zabinis, but then he was biased. Now if only they had thought of saving it instead of flaming most of it in a trip to Egypt, but then, who was he to tell them how to spend their money?
…filthy rich, but that wasn't the point.
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Dear Harry,
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If you haven't read the article yet, do it now.
Read it yet? Good.
Mum and dad decided that it was about time to visit my oldest brother Bill, in Egypt – mum disapproving of his latest girlfriend might be the cause, but none of my brothers connected the dots yet. We'll still have enough for them to buy us our necessary supplies, and get Ron a new wand – his old one finally keeled over, too much of the core has degraded, at least that's what dad guessed. Mine still works, thankfully.
EGYPT JUST IS AMAZING! Bill spent all evening telling us all those scary stories of people who stumbled on curses left behind by ancient wizards in the pyramids. Mum didn't want me to visit them, but Ron and the twins managed to change her mind. There wasn't all that much danger in it, but that two-headed mummy was creepy. Fred and George almost managed to lock up Percy in a pyramid. If only I had been a few inches taller, mum wouldn't have seen them over my shoulder…
Oh, and Bill wants to thank you for saving me. (he made me write that as soon as he learned I was writing to you)
Harry had easily been able to picture a red-faced Ginny writing the words while her older brother looked over her shoulder with a mischievous grin, then add the brackets as soon as he looked away.
I guess I haven't really thanked you either, have I… My thanks are in your present. Ron sent you a sneakoscope – he bought it and hinted it was yours, but I think he didn't know how to send it to you – or how not to sound too friendly to you in the process. It's a little thing that rings as soon as someone with bad intentions comes near you. Trust me, it works. It rang every time I was around Fred and George. That's how accurate it is. Then again, it rang all the time, but I guess it might have been my fault.
A winky face had been drawn here. Harry had snorted.
Percy's been in a right mood though. Nothing against me, it looks like he decided that what he said about me last year didn't happen. I'm satisfied with that… for now. His girlfriend sent him a letter two days ago telling him she's head girl, and that some Hufflepuff guy became head boy. Not him. Fred and George didn't help – they congratulated him for a job well done. A hint for when you see him, don't mention the words head or boy, and even less 'proud legacy of troublemakers'. I honestly don't know where those two pulled that out from; Percy is about as much of a troublemaker as a rock under six feet of sand.
…Oh, I forgot about my present, did I... well, I thought about it for some time and hesitated about sending what I decided on, but then I remembered you're spending the summer in Blaise's home, and with what I remember of her mother, (It's kinda hard to forget her anyway) I don't think she'll mind… Fred and George invented them, actually. They wanted to trade it to me in exchange for some of Xu's Instant Jusenkyo Powder but I shudder to think of what they might have done with that, so I refused. They handed it to me pretty fast after I threatened to get Mum and tell her about their inventions.
.
The package had been a box – appropriately marked with a radiation hazard sign – full of something the twins had suitably named 'Fake wands'; essentially, they were wands that looked real, until you tried to use them, upon when they would transform into… something. They had apparently not quite managed to make them transfigure into proper objects yet. The closest thing that Harry got to something he knew was one of the Dark Magic Lexicon's 'rats', which wasn't saying much seeing as they looked like gooey… stuff.
The letter had ended with a chaste Have a nice Summer, Your friend Ginny that Harry knew she had taken more than one try to decide on.
Ron had not sent a letter, but the sneakoscope Ginny had sent from him (which had laid still and silent from the moment had had opened it) that was now lying on his desk spoke volumes.
The next one had been Hermione's, recognizable at first sight from the neat, orderly writing that covered the page.
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Dear Harry,
.
I'm on holiday in France at the moment and I didn't know
how I was going to send this to you - what if they'd opened it at
Customs? - but then Hedwig turned up! I think she wanted to
make sure you got your birthday present this year, at least. I
bought your present by owl-order; there was an advertisement
in the Daily Prophet (I've been getting it delivered, it's so good
to keep up with what's going on in the wizarding world). Ron is
going to want to kill me for this, since you're on the Slytherin team and all,
but see if I care. There are more important things in this world than
Quidditch.
Hermione's present had been a broomcare kit, which was displayed on 'his' desk. Indeed, Ron was going to kill her if he learned.
Talking about Ron, did you see that picture of him and his family
a week ago? I bet he's learning loads, I'm really jealous - the
ancient Egyptian wizards were fascinating.
"My-my, six lines and a new paragraph just for Ron?" A voice had said from behind him. Startled, he had dropped it on his blanket and whirled around.
It had been Blaise, who had been reading the letter over his shoulder. She had given him a cheerful grin, got on her knees on the bed, picked up the letter and continued the read it:
"There's some interesting Local history of witchcraft here, too. I've re-written my whole History of Mag…gic… es..say… Harry, how long was that thing supposed to be?"
"Six rolls." Harry replied, shaking his head in wonder. "Typical Hermione."
"Oh, feast your ears on this: I hope it's not too long, it's two rolls of parchment more than Professor Binns asked for." Her chestnut eyes had turned toward Harry with a terrified glimmer. "Eight effing rolls of parchment! That girl needs to learn when school's over!"
"It's just the way she is, Blaise." Harry had said with a shrug, picking the letter from his friend's hands.
"Yeah, but—but… c'mon!" Tuning her spluttering voice out, Harry had continued to read:
Ron said he'd be back in Britain by the last week of the
holidays, and my parents agreed to let me live with them until
school starts – as long as I slept in Ginny's room. I swear, it's
not like he can't be trusted… Or maybe it's just because I told
them he has five brothers…
Tell Blaise Hi from me; see you both on the Hogwarts Express
on September the first!
Love from
Hermione
"…great idea, don't you think so?"
"Uh?" Harry looked up, putting the letter down on the bed.
"Harry!" Blaise whined. "Weren't you even listening? Oh, never mind. I was just saying that if Ron and Hermione started dating, she'd see there's something else in her life than studying—"
Harry spluttered. "D-Da…Blaise, what the…"
"Oh, don't look at me like I've grown a second head. It's a great Idea! She'd lay off studying and learn to have some fun and her attitude would rub off on him, so they'd both be a lot happier…"
'Don't you mean you'd be happier about both of them?' The thought fleetingly crossed through Harry's brain. A Hermione who didn't study and a Ron who didn't… well, act like Ron, seemed like the perfect deal for his friend.
"I'm sure Ginny will agree with me."
Harry had given his friend a weird look before shaking his head dejectedly. He did understand some girls. This particular one, however, was a complete mystery. He had sworn to himself that he wouldn't get involved in whatever schemes Blaise would think up.
The sad thing was, Ginny hadn't. The next letter from her, which came a week later by a thoroughly exhausted – and towed by Hedwig and Athena – Errol, had been addressed to Blaise, congratulating her on the excellent idea, with a note that she couldn't wait to start planning against them both…
…wording error, pardon this author. I meant for both their sakes, which was what Blaise and Ginny had both claimed. Far it be for Harry to spy on his friend's mail, the fact that she had read it to him out loud had made ignoring it a bit hard.
.
Sighing at his friend's antics, Harry pushed the memories down to the back of his mind. There was only one week of vacation left, which brought his attention to the final sealed envelope they had received – and that Blaise had handled like toxic waste until Harry had seen what else had been in it; their Hogwarts letters and a special form. His had read like this:
.
Dear Mr Potter,
Please note that the new school year will begin on September
the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross
Station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock.
Third-years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade
at certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form
to your parent or guardian to sign.
A list of books for next year is enclosed.
Yours sincerely,
Professor McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
.
Had the ceiling been a foot lower – or Blaise a foot taller – it would have sported a nice head-shaped bump after suffering the girl's reaction at being read the letter out loud. Hogsmeade, Harry knew from overhearing older Slytherins' conversations, was the biggest wizard-only community in Britain and happened to be only a few minutes of walk away from the edges of Hogwarts' grounds.
However, a quick check on the current situation had figuratively turned on the shower on Blaise's bonfire. They could no go without the authorization of their guardian – who happened to be Mrs. Zabini. And with Sirius Black on the loose, the chances she'd sign it were about as dim as Crabbe at four in the morning on a slow day.
Mrs. Zabini had spent most of the time since they had gotten back to Privet Drive either firecalling people she knew or brooding pensively at the dinner table with a dark frown on her face. Conversations with her had been short and to the point, and not once did she try to cook for them, something that both relieved and worried Harry.
As for Mr. Zabini, most of his time was spent at work, or talking to his wife in hushed whispers that neither child felt interested in eavesdropping to. Harry had asked him to sign the authorization, but the lawyer had refused.
"I'm not sure if the wizarding world's laws will accept me as your guardian, considering your mother is here, Blaise. Besides, I'm not sure she'd let you, and I'm not about to sign it behind her back." He had said after they had asked him to. .
With only one week left, it looked like there was only one thing to do. With a resigned sigh, Harry picked up the letter and the form from his desk and climbed down the stairs to try the one thing they hadn't yet… asking her directly.
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The stairs seemed both interminably long and much too short. The main hallway, though the sun was shining brightly outside, was covered in shadows, possibly since it had no windows and every door accessing it were closed, which was quite unusual.
He first checked the joined dining/living room on the left, but it was empty. The door to the basement was locked and so was the apothecary. Going back upstairs, he was about to check the Zabinis' bedroom when he heard a sound seeping through the door. It sounded like…
…weeping?
Curious, Harry quietly turned the silent doorknob and opened the door, just enough to allow him to peek through.
As politeness obliged, he had never really looked inside Mr. and Mrs. Zabini's room. The occasional glimpse had shown a relatively large room, for a bedroom, with a definitely green palette. Touching the right wall, a double-bed was covered with either very messy or very clean green blankets, depending on if Mr. Zabini had been the first or last to wake up. While both Harry's and Blaise's rooms had windows giving to the back yard, the Zabinis' was located a little over the front door and was usually open.
Blocking all light from entering the room, the dark green curtains blocked said window, making Harry a little nervous that the pale light from the hallway would betray him. He needn't bother.
The two adults were sitting on the bed, the man holding the woman in his arms as she sobbed. Harry almost let a surprised gasp escape. Was she that scared for them? Was she that certain that Sirius Black would try to finish the job and kill the last Potter?
…did he have the right to break in and ask to voluntarily put himself in danger?
His mind made, Harry silently closed the door, climbed down the stairs with both his and Blaise's authorization and put them on the table for her to look at it later. Whether she refused it or not, Harry couldn't seem to make himself care anymore.
.
…and the next morning, they were both signed, with a handwritten note asking them to tell her whenever they were going to Hogsmeade. The pot of floo powder was open near the chimney and she was nowhere to be found.
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Author's notes:
singing It's the chapter that never ends, it just goes on and on my friends…
I believe this is the most fun I've ever had writing up a dream sequence. Actually, the Jusenkyo episode comes close to how much fun this chapter was to write… except for when I got stuck… I couldn't decide on how to get Mrs. Zabini to be reminded about Hogsmeade.
Anyone who can guess what anime it is (come on, it's VERY easy), be my guest. All I have to say is… it was extremely fun to do. I've been itching to write a whodunit for a while… 'course, next time I write one, it'll be serious, nothing like that dream… snickers again
Actually, If someone manages to find ALL the crossovers (It's not just animes) in that scene alone, I'll give dedication (and medication) for the next chapter. Hint, there are 8, including those that are explicitly named.
Small (ok, long) writer's block at Ginny's letter, but I broke through! bd (Thumbs up)
Possibly the hugest Filler chapter ever. At least all of that is out of the way.
The reason for the wait this time around? Next chapter is a monster. --
Oh, and as for what's below, I have no idea where it came from after the first 'part'.
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OMAKE!! OMAKE!! OMAKE!! OMAKE!! OMAKE!! OMAKE!! OMAKE!! OMAKE!! OMAKE!! OMAKE!! OMAKE!!
WHEN CHARACTERS ATTACK! Or, THE RETURN OF HAILEY!
"Finally finished it," Akuma-sama, modest author extraordinaire, master of… well… of… probably something and five-time running international champion of thumb-twirling, sighed in relief. Hopefully, his delightful and wonderful readers – and even greater reviewers, wink, wink, nudge, nudge – wouldn't mob up and hang him over boiling acid this time. With a practiced reflex, his left pinky and middle fingers pressed CTRLS, quickly saving the latest chapter… that would not be released for a while still.
He grinned, remembering the content. 'I wonder if anyone will recognize the Cameo in Harry's dream…' He mused, stretching…
…just as Xu Chang suddenly burst through the poorly installed door of Akuma-sama's pitifully small computer room, ramming it into his back and sending him sprawling across his desk – and smashing his head through his computer screen for good measure – for the simple reason that the said door was hinged on the wrong side of the doorsill.
Startled, the author whirled around on his small, uncomfortable ten bucks computer chair, his forehead bleeding under his cloak from a glass cut, only to receive a powerful wave of… rapid-fire Chinese yelling.
"Whoa! Hold on, there, I don't speak Chine—"
"HOW DARE YOU!!" The girl switched language for an instant, then slipped back into more Chinese – he guessed – cursing or his name, ancestry or future. Possibly all three. An hour later – or so said his watch – the twelve years old girl finally ran out of steam. Half an hour later, the neighbors ran out of steam. Another ten minutes later, Akuma-sama ran out of patience and pressed the big red button(TM), shooting his patented chibifying ray on the police grouped outside his house. Three minutes later, the ice cream truck rolled by and was immediately assaulted by a mob of chibi policemen. Somewhere near an hour later, the salesman stopped crying over his lost merchandise.
"And just what did I dare to do?" Akuma-sama calmly asked, using the sleeve of his cloak to try and stop the bleeding on his forehead.
"You made Xu into… that's daughter!"
The excellent and mighty – and quite modest – author blinked before smirking apologetically – and quite infuriatingly.
"It was you or Blaise, and I figured Blaise would have either shot me in the family jewels or tied me up and made me listen to a Pokémon marathon. In French." He shuddered at the thought. "Maybe both."
Xu did not seem to take that explanation as satisfactory. Her eyes seemed to have an eerie glow to them, her hands twitched in what looked like strangling gestures and her mouth was frothing. Nervously, Akuma-sama fingered the chibi-ray button under his desk, before deciding that he did not want to deal with a chibified and pissed off Xu.
"Xu do worse." The girl said.
"You'll kill me by poking me under the ribs for ten years?" the cloaked demon-boy near-squeaked.
"Worse."
"You'll tie me up and hang me over a pit of dirty socks?" It wasn't quite a squeak, but it was close.
"Worse."
"You'll send me on a planet full of lawyers and real estate agents?" A mouse walking in a tube full of helium - let's not ask what those were doing in his room - paled in jealousy.
"Wor—well, not that bad. Xu not cruel." The girl relented before pulling a small bag and a bucket filled of water and marked 'deus ex machina' from hammerspace(tm). "I brought this."
Akuma-sama felt a vague sense of recognition upon seeing the bag, and it did not bring him any warm and fuzzy feelings. There were Chinese symbols written on it, but since he couldn't read---
Wait.
"That… That's the Japanese kanji for 'musume', girl," Akuma-sama said to himself, looking at the first one and recognizing one of the few hundred Kanji he could read. Then, he realized where he had seen those bags before. "Not…"
"Nyannichuan instant mix. Tragic story of girl who had to choose a form that would allow author to write without messing with his mind… too much." Xu said cheerfully. "And that 'deus ex bucketa', written up by a beginner author. A bucket that make instant mix act like normal Jusenkyo water."
"Meep?" The demon-boy squeaked. His hand found his keyboard. Desperately, he typed with one hand…
Xu smirked evilly. Water flew.
SPLASH
"NYAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!" A quite familiar female voice shrieked.
"Oops, sorry Hailey," Xu eeped at the irate neo-girl-who-lived. Akuma-sama quickly ducked through a conveniently placed wormhole. Sometimes, being an author was just too useful…
"Now, where did I land…" He wondered, looking around.
The room did not seem familiar, nor was it welcoming. It was dark, filled with enough machinery to look like a maze and with enough bleeps of light to create an odd, ever-changing light. But that was not the worst. The very worst thing in the room was probably the little girl with extremely long red hair that touched the floor, sitting on a floating cushion, surrounded by translucent black computer screens, some of which were apparently scanning him.
"Hm… interesting… that wormhole was obviously a plot hole, and you're carrying a keyboard… Therefore, you must be a writer! Do you want to be my guinea pig?" Washu Habuki, greatest mad scientist in the universe and goddess of something or other, depending on the fanfic, asked cheerfully.
Akuma-sama groaned, feeling a headache coming…
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ANSWERS TO THE WEIRD DREAMS PLAGUING THE NIGHTS OF THE REVIEWERS
(Argh! FF.net deleted my winks! !)
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Lunawolf: You want me to write fluff? Er… no thanks. -
Ranchan17: He will, he will…
star estrella: -
dragonbrat: Er… well, erm… I tried to update faster?
EmeraldKatsEye: I have no idea of the couples. I'm not concentrating on them at all, just the plot. If it happens, it happens, but the way things go, I think they'll be Brother/Sister, yes.
Flummox: To answer your pondering, no, I don't think Zabini women know how to whisper. :P. You'll get your Sirius, don't worry -. Ryoga's mini adventure in the land of magic? Oo You're scaring me, Flummox-chan.
The Vampire Story Hunter: I don't know that! And I will, thanks.
Demon's soul of Baer: (Thanks!) (I tried!)
Athenakitty: Coconut cream pie goes SPLASH twitch I'm just playing -
Watcher Tale Neith: Any reason why talking like Yoda you are?
Tonnocal: Next one, Next one…
Khellendros: "Most of my stories"? I have only two, if you consider SWL as a single big one (which it is)
I'm not the weakest link: Is that so? I would have asked for a bit of info on it if I had known -
Jericholic-baby: Hm… so I should be blessed for the fic, but blessé (hurt) for the delays, eh? :P
RaistlinofMetallica: I DO feel blessed… hugs all my reviewers (damn asterixes got removed... -.-)
GoddessMoonLady: It's going to be something, I tell you right now.
Blackheart Syaoran: I can't wait to write when THAT scene happens -. And yes, it will be darker than the other two. Or at least more psychotic. Hopefully, unless I mess it up that is =/
Risties: (What, you've gone plural… -) Doing a Canon environment is easy: The wizarding world is as crazy as it's impractical. Just remember that… =/ The flashbacks and mysteries will all be cleared up eventually. Mrs. Zabini is just the tip of the iceberg here. -
Hjlavery: What's wrong with obsession? Well, if it makes me take a month and a half to write one chapter, it's getting bad :P. And, er… I think my phone number will stay a secret.
Simply Myself: =/ Blaise is a male name… should have suspected that from Book 1, with the translator using 'envoy' instead of 'envoyée'… but then I guess it's an AU for a reason, eh? And there IS an explanation (That I worked out after you sent your review =/)
Black-Rose1212: Hehehe
Dragonsprincess: Hm… Twisty way of thinking about it, but you're right :P
Marsbars07: Thanks, I do my best -. Can't wait for Fleur & the French girls though, lol. The quote… well, I don't remember where it's from. My quotelist kinda got deleted somewhere.
Cleo-n-Jules: blush thanks…
Fanficfan54321: I do my best -.
Sky Samuelle: "The Zabinis and Harry are sweet with Harry"? lol? And thanks -
Silver scale serpent: Yes, conquering the world… A worthy aim indeed… bar the paperwork, 'f course…
Drunken devil87: there ARE Harry/Blaise fics out there… but since there are no Blaises quite like mine… -. And I don't know about the couples. We'll see when we get to that bridge.
Lindiel Eryn: When I first released SWL, book 5 wasn't out yet. Plus, book 1 of SWL is full of errors. I really need to go and correct them… =/
SykoShippo: Hehehe… - Come up here, then, as I said, I modeled it after a restaurant chain that really exists here… well, except for the tables… the Quidditch match (but there are TV with sports all over the place)… the cake… the clown (thankfully)… Well, there's a LOT of things I added.
John Surber: Er… G/H/B, eh? You're the first who asks that… imagines it (Down hormones, down! !) RL was keeping me a little busy, but also other projects, writer's block, my manga and gaming addiction and the sheer size of the next chapter didn't help. Thanks! Boy, your serious review kinda stood out among most of my hyper/crazy reviewers :P. Ah, what the hell, just for that… Fave you go.
Natara: is picturing Mrs. Zabini VS dementors …EEK?! The reasons why this wouldn't be a good idea are in the next chapter. And your guess is WRONG -. Actually, I think it would be: "Accio RAT! …uh… AHHHHH!!!" "Harry, maybe you should have been more specific…" Blaise quipped helpfully as her friend ran away, pursued by a hundred floating rats from all over the school.
Shadowface: Yes it is… makes me shake a mile a second, but it's good.
High Serpent King: Very long next chapter. And it's hard to keep the quality up -.
Krissy Riddle: It's all right, better late than never. Thanks!
Julieroo2: BLASPHEMY! Thank you! Lack of Dobby… it's not just a the start, it's all over the place. -- I don't really have a use for him anyhow.
Spirit Mornea: Heh, then you should thank him, too -
Kage: Here you go, Shadow-kun :P. And I follow the snobby pure-blood(tm)'s way of thinking: A Muggle-born is barely better than a Muggle. Therefore, they don't count. I guess he'd be a two-thirdblood. -
Lilyqueen777: You got to become a fave just 'cuz… well, it's a secret. Wouldn't want you to try and guess mouth gets blocked. And no, she's not a vampire, and she's not a werewolf. ¬.¬ Harry would have kinda noticed, sleeping in the same tent as her during a full moon night… lol. And as for the scar… next chapter, next chapter… -
Final note: I hate FF.net sometimes, it removed ALL my winkies, butchered my other smilies and killed the asterixes. For the TRUE formatting, go check out my group (the address is in my bio [Actually, do join, I sometimes answer questions (Or just act like my usual smug 'I know something you don't' self) on it, plus you get warned when the next chapter comes up]) Eek, a lot of parentheses...