Blaise in Knockturn Alley

Blaise in Knockturn Alley

Blaise Zabini left Flourish and Blott's with a heavy bag of books for the coming school year. Mr Zabini was probably still in Borgin and Burkes, and failing to find anything to his tastes. Blaise set off slowly in that direction, lingering before each shop's window display to avoid getting to Knockturn Alley too soon. Mr Zabini was nowhere to be seen, so Blaise reluctantly walked down to Borgin and Burkes and looked in through the dusty window. Mr Zabini was faintly visible in the dimly-lit shop, being served by Mr Borgin.

'Interested, are you, dear? I can offer you things that are much cheaper,' said a cloaked figure lurking beside the shop.

'Probably not worth even that much,' said Blaise, pushing open the door. Mr Borgin frowned, but then said, 'Ah! You're Blaise, aren't you? Didn't see you last year.'

'You were supposed to meet me outside Eeylops,' said Mr Zabini sternly. 'At eleven, remember?'

'It's half-past now,' Blaise pointed out.

'Oh! Time does fly. Sorry, Borgin, parental duty calls -- I'll be back later!'

The bell jangled as they emerged into the dingy alleyway. 'Well, did you get everything on your list? That bag looks heavy enough to keep you going into the sixth year.'

'Got it all. Why do you bother going in there, anyway?'

'It's a hobby. you know that.' The two of them started walking further into the alley.

'It's not much of a hobby; you haven't bought a thing in there for eight years now. What was it -- the definitely-genuine, absolutely-guaranteed skull of Harry Potter himself?'

'It was a bargain,' the older Zabini said defensively.

'Of course it was a bargain! The last time I was in Potions, Harry was still using the original skull! I ought to tell him you bought it.'

'You do that, and I won't sign that permission slip you gave me. Anyway, he'd vanished. Nobody seemed to know where he was -- he might have been dead.'

'If you like, I'll ask him next week what it was like being dead, and if he remembers having his skull removed.'

'Do you want it signed, or not?'

'The skull? Give it to me to take to school, and I'll see if Harry will sign it personally -- and that will be guaranteed genuine.'

'Now you know why I stopped buying stuff in there. Or letting you go in there with me.'

Blaise nodded. 'I still don't see why you go in there at all. I'm sure they don't think you're ever going to buy anything again, after that fake skull.'

'It's a real skull,' said Mr Zabini quietly. 'I just don't know who it belonged to.'

'That doesn't exactly make me feel better! You've got the skull of some anonymous seven-year-old at home. That kid ought to be my age now. Doesn't it bother you?'

'Yes, it does. But it seemed so reasonable at the time. What do you want me to do? Throw it away?'

'You could get it buried. It's this whole sick Knockturn Alley. Do you know what it's like, having to wait around at the end of this place for a father who's forgotten to look at his watch again, with everyone who walks past giving you strange looks? It's really embarrassing; they must all think I'm trying to look tough, but that I'm too scared to go in.'

'Sorry. You weren't that embarrassed when you gave me that permission thing to sign, though,' said Mr Zabini.

'No, well, love, sex and romance are all part of growing up, aren't they? Pretending to be a teenage Death Eater isn't. Where now?' asked Blaise.

'Mortliver's. I want to look at their books.'

'Why? You can come back here when I'm at school -- you're going to anyway, you never manage to keep away from this place.'

'I want to get a book this week,' Mr Zabini pointed out. 'Anyway, I don't mind you coming into this shop. They've got a children's section.'

'Oh, yippee. I can just imagine what they'd have there. "See the Dark Lord. See the Dark Lord kill a Muggle. The Dark Lord is having fun." Just as well they don't have a children's section.'

'If you don't stop being sarcastic, I won't sign that form.'

'So you are going to sign it?'

'Maybe. You'll find out, won't you?'

They arrived at Mortliver's, and entered. Blaise's father headed for the potions books, while Blaise hung around looking at some of the books about beasts.

When they left the shop, Mr Zabini had bought the book of poisons he was after, and the two of them walked back towards Diagon Alley. Mr Zabini put the book into the bag he was carrying and looked at Blaise. 'Did you look at "I was a Teenage Death Eater"?'

'Is it really that safe making jokes like that, here?'

'Possibly not. All right, so why do you want that permission slip signed?'

'Er ... what?'

'It implies that you're intending to have sex with someone at school. So who is that someone?'

'No! I thought it was to let me get kinky books out of the Restricted Section.'

'So why do you want it? Or rather, for whom do you want it? You're giving me the impression it's someone I'd disapprove of -- you wouldn't talk about it at home, you keep changing the subject now, and there must be a reason for this.'

'Oh. It's just in case; I don't really know yet.'

'Do you mean you've no idea, or you've got a list and you'll see who doesn't turn you down?'

'I just think that if I get it, it'll be better if a friendship ... turns serious on me. I really don't know at the moment.'

They'd reached Diagon Alley, and turned towards Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour.

'Those two are in my year,' said Blaise, pointing to two people sitting outside, talking and eating ice cream. 'Gryffindors -- Finnigan and Brown.'

'Which is which? Is that one on your list?'

'I haven't got a list, and no. He's Finnigan, she's Brown.'

'She doesn't look tanned. Do you want to talk to them?'

Blaise shrugged. 'A bit.' They stopped to chat, exchanging comments on their shopping, speculating on the new DADA teacher and touching on other neutral topics that didn't raise the question of house rivalry.

The two Zabinis got sundaes and sat at one of the outside tables, not too near the two Gryffindors.

Mr Zabini said, 'You know, it's not necessary for both people to have taken potions, as long as one has. The problem comes when both claim they have, when they haven't. So it's for the best if you do take it.'

'Dad! They'll hear us! I bet nobody else is talking about this while eating ice cream!' hissed Blaise.

'Well, I don't see why they shouldn't be. My point is, that's the problem with being in Slytherin: we just don't inspire trust. It must be easier being Hufflepuffs and being able to trust each other.'

'Most of the other Slytherins think that Hufflepuffs are duffers.'

'You know your mother isn't.'

'Yes, I know. I don't have a problem with Hufflepuffs -- and no, there aren't any on my non-existent list.'

'I'd like to see this list.'

'I really don't have one!' Blaise noticed Lavender looking, and said more quietly, 'I just gave you the form because I thought I ought to be able to get this potion in case something comes up.'

'Blaise, you're being very secretive, very vague. Is that because ... well, are you gay, and trying to avoid telling me? Is that why you won't say who you're thinking about?'

'No, that's not why! I really don't have anyone in mind. And I'm not gay.'

'Are you hoping someone's thinking about you, then?'

'Maybe. But it seems like a good idea to have the potion in case -- or at least, the signed permission slip so that I can get it if I think I need to.'

Mr Zabini nodded. 'Now, finish that sundae and we'll see about new robes that fit you.'

*

A week later, a few minutes after the Hogwarts Express had left the station, Blaise suddenly realised that the permission slip was still at home. Of course, Mr Zabini had signed it, so he'd probably send it on by owl if Blaise owled him to say where it was.

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