The Life and Times of a Girl Named Blaise Zabini

Chapter 1

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Blaise Zabini wasn't stupid.

Blaise Zabini wasn't scheming.

Blaise Zabini wasn't ambitious ...Okay, so she was, but more along the lines of "I'm going to do my best and kick arse while doing it."

Blaise was smart.

Very smart.

Smart as in she'd skipped grades before she went to Hogwarts, and had been looking forward to High School if she didn't get her letter, rather than Junior High School like most Hogwarts hopefuls.

In her opinion, she belonged more with the Ravenclaws. Or even the Hufflepuffs! She worked hard, got good grades (She would be the head of her graduating class, if Granger wasn't such an over-achiever. How that girl managed to help Harry Potter and take so many extra classes at the same time, she didn't know. She worked just as hard as Granger on the individual subjects, but she knew when to kick back, unwind, and have some fun, at least!), and was loyal to her family and friends. Which came to the grand total of three people she was unquestionably loyal to: her mother, her grandfather (affectionately dubbed "Granda"), and Draco Malfoy. Her father, Lorenzo Zabini, didn't fit into the picture because she knew he was a murdering ba***** of a Death Eater.

Oh, and it was her life goal to "kick Voldemort's arse" (as in defeating him, but she didn't have an aversion to doing so in the literal sense, along with various other sensitive regions of his body...) in the most painful and/or embarrassing way, and make it look like Draco did it. Because, she figured, Harry Potter had far too much fame as it was, and she didn't really want any, and Draco was always complaining about how he hated that Harry got so much (in his opinion, undeserved) attention just because he had a bloody scar.

Eh, whatever made him happy...

But the whole point of all this is that, quite frankly, Blaise didn't belong in Slytherin.

Stupid Sorting Hat...

It took one look at her last name (Her LAST NAME! Goddess, she despised everything her father stood for, and the stupid hat made its decision based on that moron's name?!?), said "Oh *BLEEP*! How did a Zabini end up here?!? I thought you all went to Durmstrang! Only one place to put you, and that's SLYTHERIN!"

Stupid hat wouldn't shut up long enough to get a good look at her, much less listen to anything she had to say!

She hoped that moronic hat met an icky, messy end. Stupid hat...

And then there were all the morons in her house dorm! Bulstrode was rude, crude, and had a taste for fist fights. Okay, so they might have gotten along splendidly if it weren't for a fact that Bulstrode always followed the lead of such ignoble examples of humanity as Pansy Pernella Parkinson.

And Parkinson! She was whiny, obnoxious, and scheming. Specifically, she was scheming to get into Draco's pants, and/or his bank account. Thank Elbereth Draco knew that, or they'd probably have to fake at seeing each other in a romantic sense to keep the girl away. It was already looking like they might have to do it anyway, just to give Draco some moments of peace.

No, she didn't *like*-like Draco! Ack! He was like a surrogate brother! Their mothers were friends, and probably would love it if she and he did get together, but it wasn't going to happen.

Blarg...

Then there was the fact that both girls were constantly butting into her business, and trying to read her diary, and trying to find her "plans for the future" notebook. Pretty much everybody in the school except for Draco and Professor Dumbledore thought that she and Lucius Malfoy were vying for the position of Voldemort's second in command, and those idiots thought that she was writing down her plans to take over the world in that notebook.

Honestly, some people needed to get their heads examined... Though she wondered on occasion what would happen if she just handed the dolts the notebook.

One thing she knew for certain: she'd be keeping a camera handy for the looks on their faces when they didn't find anything written in it.

Ah, the joys of being a budding Potions Mistress, and being the only person in the school who could cast ethric light. The "ink" she used for her more private writings was actually a potion that was odorless, didn't dry sticky, and happened to be invisible once dry, unless ethric light was shone on it. She'd developed it the summer after her first year, having had several close calls where her morons for dorm mates had almost gotten a hold of her notes for kicking Voldemort's arse, and she'd been staying at her grandfather's home at the time, which had a large greenhouse for her to do her work in, as well as Bunsen Burners (Isn't mundane technology grand? Unlike her father, she had had plenty of contact with the "Muggle" world, and she was rather fond of movies, her computer, her laptop, and the internet.) so she could make potions without using magic and getting in trouble. She'd been researching a lot of things, but most inks that turned invisible after drying could only be revealed by subjecting them to heat, like lemon juice or milk. Which didn't help her because, if she just wanted to review her notes, it would reveal them for all to see, and she wouldn't be able to make them invisible again!

So, anyway, she had gotten to thinking about what she could do that very few people could do, and hit upon a solution: ethric light! Most witches and wizards these days didn't know what the heck it was, and the rest assumed it was simply a myth, something that worked only in "Muggle" Sword and Sorcery novels (I suppose you've noticed that the only times the word "muggle" has been used, it was in quotations. That's because it's not the proper term. The correct term for those without a magical talent is "mundane," or not out of the ordinary). Oh, it was real, and it promised to be the perfect solution to her situation.

The problem was that she couldn't use magic away from school until she graduated, unless it was a life-or-death situation.

Which meant no ethric light to test with.

Which meant she would have to work on this at school, with the Pug and the Baboon (if you can't figure out who these are, you're too slow) constantly butting in.

Darnit.

But then, her grandfather came up with a solution. He had a small, hand- held magical lamp of sorts that cast a light similar to ethric light, if not ethric light itself.

Was it mentioned how much she REALLY loved her grandfather?

That problem averted, she had set to experimenting with various mixtures which she was assured wouldn't blow up or dissolve paper or do anything else strange, all with that little lamp shining on her results.

She'd never figured out just *why* Swelling Solution had been developed. Sure, it made for a few laughs if it accidentally got on somebody, but who would want to have something swell up insanely? What purpose did it serve?

Well, in any case, she'd been going through her potions textbook and brewing everything she knew how to make in several lots, in beakers as well as her cauldron, and then fiddling with them, using less of one ingredient, or using more of another, sometimes adding something completely different that wasn't in the regular recipe. And then she stumbled upon the solution, almost literally.

She'd been pruning the mandrakes (no, not the screaming magical kind; the kind that are just useful roots!), and had noticed that the leaves had gained a sort of shimmery quality when brought into contact with the lamp, so figured what the heck; might as well try it. She crumbled up and tossed one dried leaf into a beaker of unaltered Swelling Solution, which had happened to be the only currently unaltered potion on the table, and stepped back when a small puff of smoke was emitted from the concoction. She then proceeded to stir the leaf particles in, hoping they wouldn't simply swell up, turned off all of the Bunsen Burners, waited for the various potions to cool, and then proceeded to test them.

Only the Swelling Solution with the crumbled mandrake leaf worked.

And there was much rejoicing!

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Which brings us to current times. It was early July, Blaise was out of school for the summer and staying with her grandfather for the month, and looking forward to her sixth year, having turned sixteen the previous March.

That's when her life started getting complicated, and she learned that not everything was as it seemed with her family.

It started when her father skewered her mother on an antique, Zabini family heirloom broadsword.

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Author's Notes: Ooh, spooky!

What's going to happen next? You'll have to read on to find out!

1-11-03

Revised for terminology, 4-29-04.

Chapter 2

Notation: [...] means the words are being spoken in Elvish

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It was almost scary how perky and cheerful that day had started out.

The sky was blue, birds were chirping, the woods surrounding the modest home of Lance Green shady and cool, with the comforting oatmeal cookie smell of green tea with chamomile brewing wafting through the house from the kitchen, where Blaise E. Zabini sat companionably sipping the tea with her grandfather, re-reading "The Two Towers" for the bajilianth time.

Yes, Blaise Zabini, Slytherin and pure-blooded witch, as far as she knew, was a Lord of the Rings fangirl.

A friend from grade school, Lina, had gotten her interested when they'd been in sixth grade.

Wouldn't Lina flip if she found out that their mutual favorite book series was real?

Okay, so it wasn't *quite* real, considering the fact that no written record of Middle Earth from that time existed, outside of the journals of one Mister Lance Green, a.k.a. Legolas Thranduilion.

When she'd been informed of the Green family's ultra-secret-secret, Blaise had gone running all through the house, screaming her trademark Lord of the Rings Fangirl Scream of Joy (tm).

Hey, if you found out you were the granddaughter of one of your favorite characters from your favorite books, you'd probably do the same thing!

She was half an elf, and darn proud of it!

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Her mother, apparently, had been born a few years before the rest of Legolas' family left for the Undying Lands, Dallandra Green Zabini's mother crossing the waters with them and leaving her child and the father of said child behind, convinced with the tenacity of someone wrapped up in their own little world that Legolas and their child would follow them in a few more years.

Legolas never left.

At first he stayed because the idea of leaving his dear, non-elven friends behind hurt too much.

Then they started to grow old and die. And even then he did not go, convincing himself that his friends would have wanted him to keep an eye on their descendants, and Dallandra should see more of the land of her birth before they even considered following the majority of their people. He was still fascinated by Men, and would often travel their cities, his daughter at his side, the hoods of their cloaks up to hide their elven ears, for most elves who had not left Middle Earth were in hiding, and the story of the Fellowship had become legend, and was swiftly becoming myth.

And still, they stayed.

Then the lands began to change, breaking up, separating, beaches and rocky coasts gradually appearing where none had been before, until, when the changing was for the most part done, the Shire, Mirkwood and Lothlorien were not only hidden from human eyes, but also lost to the world, for Legolas had lost track of where they had ended up in the shifting, much like a treasured keepsake lost in the shuffle of moving from one house to another.

And still they stayed, though Legolas despaired that, even if they should *want* to leave Arda, or Middle Earth, they couldn't, for the creation of the continents had left him with no set idea as to which way to go, because the Western shore was no longer where it once was, if it even still existed.

Over the millennia, Men changed, dividing themselves based on skin color and whatnot, the greatness and nobility of Gondor, Rohan, and all the other nations Legolas had known of old lost and forgotten.

Men fashioned new gods, though many were similar, and even at one point a single Man claimed to be the son of the One.

Through all this change, Legolas stayed much the same, keeping to the forests and wild places, occasionally venturing out in search of the magic of old, and its creatures.

Even so, Dallandra reveled in the change over the ten millennia and more of her life, having taken in a total of four orphaned children and raising them as her own over the years, mourning their passing when they died. Dallandra had a great deal of compassion and an even greater capacity for love and affection towards others.

Over time, some magics of sorts was rediscovered by Mankind, which pleased Legolas, though the coming of Roman Christianity did its best to squash it out, claiming it inherently evil, made both he and his daughter shake their heads at the fear the unknown that Man had developed, most likely in memory of what the One Ring almost did, and wonder at the stupidity of certain Men who killed innocent old men and women, but couldn't recognize true magic when they saw it.

Dallandra was eventually invited to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, though they were absolutely shocked to find that, not only was she an Elf, but she was millennia too old to attend.

So, she was offered the teaching position for History of Magic, and offered lessons and tutoring from the rest of the staff to learn what was considered Human Magic. She took the offer, and spent a good century there, befriending towards the end a young student by the name of Albus Dumbledore.

Hence why the old man knew Blaise had no intention of becoming a Death Eater.

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Blaise and her grandfather were discussing where Tolkien's version of the story differed from what really had happened, when they heard a knock at the door. Blaise rose, gesturing for her grandfather to stay sitting.

"I'll get it, Granda! An old man like you shouldn't be traipsing around like you do!" she teased him even as he reset the Glamour that hid his Elven appearance, as well as made him look older. Only Elven eyes could see through it easily, and it took a very difficult charm to enable a human to see through it. Legolas, a.k.a. Lance Green, had had a lot of time to perfect it, his long pale blond hair, small braids woven within it here and there in the fashion traditional to the Elves of Mirkwood, now appearing to be short and silvery gray.

Legolas mock-glared at her, a smile twitching his lips as he retorted, "I am not so old that I cannot get you for that later, young lady!"

Giggling, Blaise bolted out of the kitchen and towards the front door, her grandfather following more slowly, acting the part of an old man. She quickly schooled her features to blank and impassive, for it wouldn't help her reputation as Slytherin's resident "Ice Queen" to be seen laughing and being silly.

She reached out, opened the door, and raised a single chocolate-brown eyebrow (yes, she's a brunette!) at the two wizards from the Ministry of Magic (She really got a laugh out of that; the idea that a bunch of politicians thought that they could regulate something as much a part of nature and the world as magic...It was hilarious!) standing on the porch.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?"

That's when her world was first turned upside-down.

"Blaise Zabini?"

She nodded, one eyebrow still raised as if to say "this had better be good, or you'll regret it."

"I'm sorry bother you, Miss Zabini, and you, Mister Green," one of the wizards said as he spotted her grandfather over her shoulder, "but I'm afraid I'm the bearer of bad news."

He paused for quite some time, not even roused when his companion nudged him in the ribs with an elbow. Finally Blaise quipped, "If my father's dead, then don't worry. That would probably be the best news I've heard in years, the arrogant bas-"

"Blaise! Language!"

"...Okay, he's an arrogant [pile of horse manure]."

Legolas sighed, then muttered, "That's not what I meant and you know it..."

The Ministry wizard seemed to come to himself, then, steeling himself, uttered the words that would change her forever: "Miss Zabini, I regret to inform you that your mother is dead."

That froze her in her tracks.

No.

This can't be happening.

This has to be some kind of crazy, screwed-up nightmare. Her mother was an Elf, for crying out loud! She was immortal! The only way she could die would be if...!

"...She was found in the entrance hall to the Zabini family estate, and she seems to have been impaled by a sharp object through the belly, most likely a sword, and..." He trailed off, getting a really good look at Blaise, who was swaying slightly back and forth, her eyes glazed and unfocussed. "Miss Zabini?"

That's about when merciful unconsciousness caught up with her, and her eyes rolled back in her head, her body toppling backwards into her grandfather's arms.

"Don't just stand there and gape, you imbeciles! Either help me get her upstairs and be useful, or leave and get out of my way!" Legolas snapped as he swept his grandchild up into his arms, glaring at both wizards i mpartially.

"But sir, we were supposed to bring her in for a statement! Procedure-!" started the wizard who, until now, had stayed silent. He was cut off by a look from Legolas which Blaise had once dubbed his "Uber-Scary Face," which she had altered into what she referred to as her "Glare of DOOM!".

Legolas then proceeded to slam the door in their faces, locked the door, and stormed up the stairs to settle his burden on her bed, his footsteps even so elf-light upon the steps.

They were going to have to have a long talk once she wasn't in shock anymore.

It was time to reveal his last secret to the girl.

The secret that was her life.

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1-11-03

Author's Notes: Yay! I've gotten the first two chapters written in ONE DAY! I'm so proud of myself!

Just so you people know, this started out in my head as a COMPLETELY different story, but, after I read "Single, Blonde Elf" ( http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1150730 ) by Jinni, it morphed into the story that is now being written down. The idea that Legolas might stay behind, not going on to the Undying Lands, and Middle Earth is our past, I got from her story. But that's all that I'm borrowing from her.

Thank you for reading; I hope you liked it, and will come back for more!

Author's Revision Notes: 4-29-04

Thranduilion means "Son of Thranduil", which is Legolas. Legolas translates to "Greenleaf", hence the occasional reference to Legolas as Legolas Greenleaf. I have no idea what "Daughter of Legolas" would translate to, but I plan on finding out at some point.

Revised for future content and terminology.