Cruel Children's Chronicles: Blaise

Cruel Children's Chronicles: Blaise

Big Bad Bully Boy

Wind is a good thing. You can scream everything you've got, but your voice will drown in the depth of the wind anyway. If you're ever going to attack anyone, do it when it's windy. People will hear the screaming, but have no clue where it comes from. Do you care if you hear a distant scream? Of course not. It's not close to you, you've got nothing to do with it. Fuck it. That's the human mind. Stay out of trouble. Trouble is what the poor one does, the criminals, the immigrants, the children without parents. What do you care if somebody around the corner gets beaten up and maybe it ruins his life? It's not your life, it's not your problem.

Like the war in the Middle - East. Why can't they just live together? It's only religion that makes them different, right? Blast religion, who needs something to believe in? Now, I'm not going to be deep and all, since I'm not. I'm Blaise Zabini - well known for beating before asking. I could do some really changes in the world if I'd had the chance. I'm not going to tell you how, since it will not be my idea anymore, would it?

The first image from my childhood is my sister running away from our house. She was twelve years old, about eight years older than me. My father, who's hopefully burning in Hell (like, hell. Where the devil is. Not that pile of rubbish outside of Jerusalem which obviously was 'Hell' according to the blokes who wrote the Bible. I've read it somewhere that it was. If you don't fucking believe me, that's your problem), had five children with five different women. I was the forth child, lucky enough that my mother ran away, just like my sister, only weeks after my birth. That means I was locd with my father and his crazy gang of children from day one.

My sister who ran away left the rest of us a note. There was no explanation as to why she left us here alone with the greatest git in history, only a message. "Run, children, before it's too late". Sure, I'd run. But where? This was before I had managed to get powerful friends like Draco Malfoy. This was before I fell hopelessly in love with the most beautiful girl in the world. This was before Hogwarts, the salivation for anybody with a life that smelled like rubbish and tasted like too much roasted bacon. This was real life, where no magic would make any difference. Harry Potter complained about his childhood... I daresay I never even had any.

My father was a man of authority. He had a complex of minority if any of his sons managed something he never did. Like going on a date with a girl that didn't look like she had put her teeth in with a sledge hammer. Or even if one of my elder brothers managed to get a job where they actually earned money. My father would make them quit in the job, and then try to get it himself. He was never given any job, of course. A man that didn't know the meaning of the world sympathetic would never be given anything at all.

Speaking one's mind was not allowed in Rory Zabini's house. If you did, you would be beaten almost to a pulp. My older brothers had learned, after being at the hospital so often that the Ministry had been sending people from the mighty department of Children Abuse. They never took any children away, of course. Not until my sister ran. My only sister, the only female in our house. She had the courage to run, but none of the big bad bully boys did. The Child Abuse people returned, and took my younger brother away. My father got furious and beat me, out of everybody, almost to death and left me down in the basement and locked the door. There I was supposed to learn not to let any of my brothers be taken away. I was five years old. What the fuck could I do?

I don't know why they didn't take me too. Probably because Esselte, my youngest brother, was only two years old and was lying in a bed so filthy that the fleas were health conscious and decided to say away from it. I was just standing next to Esselte, looking lame trying to make them take me away too if I only looked enough at them.

Then, at my sixth birthday, my oldest brother Kik ran away too. He left me a envelope, a red envelope. He told me to take good care of it, to not let anyone look in it or take it away from me. I swore not to even look in it myself before I turned eleven. Again I was beaten up, this time because Kik left. It was only two of us now. It was my seven year older brother Tred who was so confused about everything that my father didn't care about him anymore. Tred was probably the most intelligent and fantastic brother I had. He was pretending to be stupid, to be an outsider that didn't know the difference between a wand and a window.

My father didn't care if Tred was out of the house, he probably just hoped he would never return. But every day Tred did return, looking lost and confused. Sometimes he cleared up, and we had conversations about how life was outside of the Zabini household, and it was during one of these conversations that Tred told me about Hogwarts.

"It's the most perfect place at earth," he said, chewing gum, looking over his shoulder constantly to make sure my father wasn't there. "They teach you magic there, you know. Dark and Light," he said slowly as he looked over his shoulder again. "Nobody in the Zabini family has been invited. Not this generation, anyway, but who's surprised about that." He took out his gum, looked at it as the slightly pink piece that was held between his dirty thumb and index finger. Then he put it back into his mouth and blew a bubble. The sound of the bubble burst was heard on the second floor by my father. He ran down the stairs, and smacked my face three times. First at the left side, then the right, then the left again.

"Fucking stupid rat," he spat at me. "You know I hate sounds!" Any sound but his own voice, of course.

"It wasn't me!" I cried out, knowing it was a hopeless try.

"Who else could it have been then?! Stupid fucking rat Tred?! He's wasted, blasted, gone! He wouldn't know how to even chew a gum!" Tred did not move, as he pretended to be confused again to save his own arse. My father slapped the back of my head, and for a minute I thought that was it. But when I heard his voice again, my heart dropped. "Down, now. Down in the basement." My name for the basement was the dungeons, because that was it's use. The year after, only days after my eight birthday, my last brother left. For my birthday he had given me a little gold key, but it felt like betrayal the day he left. The day after, my sister returned.

Chi- Chi was her name, poor girl. Guess what the name of her mother was? Yes, Chi, of course. Chi- Chi was a damaged girl, like all of her brothers were damaged boys. But she stood up against our father, and he never laid a hand at her, as his only limit was not to hit girls. Strange man, my father. He could beat a four year old until he stopped breathing, but never touch a girl. His wives, however, knew exactly how hard he hit. Because, believe it or not, my father was married three times. But my sister, aged sixteen, who had managed to get away from the Zabini house of Hell, returned - for my sake. She always talked about getting me ready. For three years I was convinced she wanted me to murder my father.

My father continued to beat me, for anything. He beat me when my sister got me a wand, when my sister got me real food, when my sister taught me how to read and write and when my sister told my father off. It was a miracle I was able to walk in the age of ten as my feet were so bruised because of his kicking and hitting with different sorts of pipes and other things that really hurt. My ribbons were damaged too, as most of the bones in my body. But my Father didn't let me go to the Hospital because he made it clear that if I could not heal - I was meant to die.. My sister did her best to heal me, but to no avail. My face was not too ugly, as my father just slapped my face so it looked like I was blushing all the time. Didn't matter, as I never met any girls but Chi- Chi anyway.

The day I turned eleven was a rainy day. I had almost forgotten about the envelope, and the little gold key. My birthday was the 4th of August, the day I was the most happy in my life. I opened the envelope, and managed to read it. In short, it said that I was a special occasion. Hogwarts had received a very touching and realistic letter from Kik, Chi- Chi and Tred Zabini, where they had begged Hogwarts to accept Blaise Zabini as their student. And the gold key, the gold key was to my bank account at Gringotts. My brothers and sister had opened an account for me, so I could be able to pay off the school.

I don't know what it was that made me beat up my sister that day. I just did. I was so happy, so confused and so messed up it was the only thing I could think about. My sister licked blood off her lip and looked up at me as I had just hit her face hard and then kicked her a few times when she was down. Then she laughed. I bent down, and lifted her up to her feet, demanding to know what she thought was so funny.

"You're just like him," she replied between her laughing. "A laughing stock. So pathetic. So blind. So..." She shook her head like it was so funny she wasn't able to say it, before she got all serious and said in a mocking voice: "Sush a big bad bully boy."

I was eleven and had beaten up a eighteen years old girl. This was haunting my mind as I walked down Diagon Alley, and met my upcoming ally: Draco Malfoy. Short, skinny and with a big mouth, he talked me into a world of money, power and endless options. Where had he been all of my life? But I didn't hear the little boy's voice as my eyes locked at a girl walking in front of me with a big package under her arm. She was like Draco; short and skinny - way too skinny. Dark hair, and a pair of dark eyes, I noted, as she glared at me. The first girl I saw outside of my family was the first and only love of my life. For a while, anyway. She narrowed her eyes as I asked her name, and her identical twin had to answer for her. Her name was heavenly and like silk in my ears:

Padma Patil.