Thursday, December 12th, Hogwarts castle grounds
The Saturday before term ended, Harry found himself walking back to the castle from a visit to Hagrid. He chuckled to himself thinking about Hagrid's obsession with all things draconic. If events played out, the man would soon be getting an egg and try to hatch the bloody thing in his wooden shack, calling the small fire-spewing creature Norbert of all things.
Actually, since Dragons have a very good and very long memory, that small bit of praise and kindness was never forgotten by the dragon and when Hogwarts was attacked in Harry's seventh year, Norbert would end up feeling the uncertainty of his Hagrid and come investigate. And when he found Hagrid dead near his hatch-ground, Norbert became very agitated and took out his frustration on the black robes flying in the sky, shooting beams of light from their sticks.
All told, when Harry thought to check (which he hadn't wanted to do but found himself doing anyway weeks later), 22 death eaters had either been burned to death by dragonfire or were chewed on like Fang's dinner. At best, 9 death eaters had to be identified by only partial remains - when they were found later on partially digested in the dragon poop.
No, Harry knew he couldn't stop Hagrid getting his Norbert. A problem it would certainly be this year, but it was a necessity for later years. Especially if the dark wanker was successful in regenerating his body and reconstituting his wanker force of inbred goofballs.
As Harry approached the castle, he caught sight of Blaise Zabini leaving the greenhouse as she strode for the castle. It was cold out and he could understand her hurried gait as she moved to get to someplace warmer. Really, warming and heating charms should be on first year curriculum instead of the other mish-mash, Harry knew. He'd have to talk to Professor Flitwick about that.
Harry looked at Zabini's backside as she made her way to the castle. It was odd seeing Blaise as a girl here rather than there, Harry knew. If he didn't know he was in an alternate dimension before, he did now since it had a female Zabini. He'd seen her off and on in classes and in the Slytherin cellar. But he really hadn't spoken to her before now.
As Harry walked at a more sedate speed (he knew the warming charm after all), he saw that three boys broke from a concealed area against the wall and approached Blaise from behind. Harry wasn't sure but suspected they were either third or fourth years. From Slytherin. Typical.
The largest of the three boys jumped from behind her to walk next to her, then in front of her where he turned around and walked backwards while grinning at her.
"I don't know why you Zabinis prefer to stay neutral these day, Blaise. I mean it absolutely disgusts me knowing that some of our own Pure-blood families would rather remain neutral than rally under our dark lord to exterminate those nasty little Mudbloods. Wouldn't you agree?"
Blaise looked towards the boy in front of her and then to either side and noticed she was surrounded. To make matters worse, the boy in front of her decided to stop, forcing her to do the same lest she run into him. She kept her mouth shut.
Harry hugged the shadows and let some of his power move him closer to the scene without being seen. The first thing that Harry noticed when he shadowed closer was that the boy, Seth Eldrad, a fourth year wearing Slytherin colours, held two wands. And since Blaise didn't have one out, Harry knew that it must have belonged to her.
Blaise screwed up her courage. She was not going to give in and cry in front of that jerk Seth Eldrad, Alberto Cronio, or Brian Doinkie if she could help it. They were jerks and probably just trying to get a rise out of her. "You're a fool, Eldrad. You're frightened of mudbloods and you should be. Because in case you haven't noticed, the purebloods are dying out unless you have red hair and are named a Weasley."
"What are you on about, Zabini?" Cronio snapped.
"Think about it, morons. How many only children go to this school? Of that, how many are pure-bloods vs. from muggles? Can't do the math? It's no wonder I hear you got thrown out of aritmancy."
"You've got a mouth on you, Zabini."
"Perhaps. But in 200 years, perhaps less, your children or grandchildren won't have mouths at all. They'll either be part of a magical population so minor to be bereft of any political power, or they'll be mutants with no mouths, or chins, or brains. Of course, in your family that won't hinder them at all."
"What's a mutant?" Doinkie asked Eldrad.
"Who cares," Eldrad replied to his goon. "She's just making up tales."
"Sure I am," Blaise agreed easily. "Just ask any of the Darlington, Zvoy, Burles, Yves, Amesworth, Toledo, or Quinas families. Oh wait, you can't. They bred out. At the end, they produced only squibs, so no one magical to carry on their names. Too bad. I guess the mudbloods will have to carry it on for them won't they? Kind of like they'll have to do with your family, right?"
"Shut up! You know, for a firstie, you're a bigger snot than most."
"And to think, I was just getting started," Blaise retorted, jumping for her wand.
Eldrad raised it out of her reach. "I'm an Eldrad. And no little snot is going to disrespect me or my family, you got that?"
"Disrespect implies that you had respect to begin with. Jerk."
Eldrad's eyes narrowed and he quickly raised his wand, incanted sharply and threw a cutting hex at her left cheek. She dodged most of it, but it still grazed and cut the skin.
"You know, you're quite pretty, Zabini. How about we have some fun?"
"How about you rot in Hell?" Blaise shot back.
....
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