The Story of Blaise Zabini

Chapter 5

Hoggy Warty Hogwarts....

My first year at Hogwarts passed fairly uneventfully. So did my second. Lydia and I had made two new friends; Gryffindors no less. Fred and George Weasley; even their name sounded disruptive. They were awesomely brilliant at pranking, and once Lydia and I became friends with them, they taught us a load of ways to get back at people we didn't like.

However, in the paradise that is Malfoy and Pansy, everything was all well there. Take note of the word paradise; you'll get there in the end.

Lydia and I were talking about it one night.

"God look at them - they're inseparable!" Lydia muttered. "They're like rabbits, they just don't know when to stop!"

"She's like a malignant growth," I added darkly, glaring at Pansy who looked like she was enjoying herself - and making everyone hurl their dinners back up. "She won't leave him alone, for more than five seconds."

"I heard from one of the Gryffindors, that she's got crabs," Lydia said loudly, causing Malfoy to pull away from Pansy, and get up to talk to us.

"Why, hello, Draco," I said, in mock surprise. "What brings you to us? Our charming company?"

"Listen," Malfoy began in a quiet voice, "could you just stop saying stuff about Pansy? We all know it's not true, and we all know it's not funny."

"How do you know it's not true?" Lydia asked unblushingly. "For all you know she could have crabs."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I'm not joking, it's really upsetting Pansy and -"

"She can handle it," I shrugged.

Malfoy sighed and rolled his eyes again, then stormed back over to Pansy.

"Arsehole," Lydia muttered, and she was right, he was.

The next day, after Transfiguration, we got caught trying to enchant a quill to keep stabbing itself at the back of Malfoy's head.

I suppose it would've been easy to tell who'd done it; only me and Lydia have a reputation for pulling pranks, and we were the only ones laughing. Well it was funny.

"If you and Mr Malfoy have a problem," McGonagall said to us, in her severe tone of voice, looking sternly at us over her glasses, "then try to sort it out in a mature way."

Who was she kidding? I'd seen her smiling when she saw Malfoy almost crying.

"Yes professor," we said, pretending to be suitably ashamed and walked out.

"What's next on the agenda?" I asked, as soon as we were out of earshot.

"Hmm, let me think ..."Lydia said thoughtfully, going through a list in her head of the people we were going to prank today. "Oh yeah; Potter and his sidekicks."

I grinned. Remember that boy everybody had cheered at the Sorting? Well, it turns out that he's famous. His name's Harry Potter and, boy, was he going to be pissed when we pulled a prank on him. I've got nothing against him, personally, but Fred and George made a bet with us that they'd trick more people than Lydia and I by Christmas. And since I'm not one to back down from a bet, and neither is Lydia, we agreed and now it's on.

"What are we going to do?" I asked. I was a little low on ideas for pranks today.

"Hmm ..." she murmured again, deep in thought. "I'm not sure. But it's got to be good ..."

I could see that we needed to think about this some more; real pranks take time and effort to pull off.

Our next lesson was History of Magic. When I say it is the most boring lesson in the history of the world, I am so not joking. Really, Professor Binns could bore anyone to death. I don't know how he lives with himself, I really don't.

Anyway, despite being the most mundane lesson, it's also pretty good for keeping up with gossip. Everyone's always sending notes across the classroom; it's the only thing that keeps us awake.

Today was no exception; no sooner had I sat down and taken my stuff out of my bag, than Lydia tossed a folded piece of paper onto my desk.

Is it just me, or is Binns even more mind-numbing than usual?

I turned the paper over and wrote:

Tell me about it! Any more ideas about the prank on Potter?

I folded the paper over and waited until Binns' back was turned and then discreetly passed it to Lydia.

Out the corner of my eye I saw her read it and write a reply. Then she passed it back to me.

No, have to think about it some more. I think Malfoy's going to try and get us back for the quill thing. I saw him sneaking around the common room, just now.

I'd like to see him try! I wrote back. He is such an arrogant little shit.

Understatement of the century! came the reply.

We went on like that for the rest of the lesson; just bitching and gossiping about everyone.

Before I knew it, it was sixth lesson, and I was sitting, staring unseeingly at the board, where Professor Flitwick had written our notes.

Nothing happened that lesson; at least, nothing exciting. Unless you count Flitwick falling off his chair again, and since he does it so often, I don't.

By the time dinner had finished, I was tired and I still didn't have any idea for the prank.

I went to the common room, my mind exhausted from trying a hundred different possibilities, but none of them seemed good enough.

"Still not thought of anything?" Lydia asked as she slumped down beside me in the common room.

"No," I muttered glumly, and looked around at the other Slytherins, waiting for a flash of inspiration. Like that would ever happen. They were Slytherins; incapable of any kind of inspiration.

"Well, I'll think about all night now," Lydia said, discouraged. "I won't get any sleep, probably."

"Just skive off lessons tomorrow then," I reasoned. Only a few years in England and already I was using their turns of phrase.

"Yeah, I think I might," she shrugged, and turned to see Malfoy heading towards us, looking menacing. Well, trying to look menacing; he wasn't really pulling it off all that well.

"What now?" Lydia asked, before he'd even opened his mouth.

"Listen bitch," Malfoy spat, "just stop trying to make me look like a prat!"

Lydia exchanged glances with me, then I looked back at Malfoy.

"We're not trying to make you look like a prat," I said coolly. "You're doing just fine by yourself."

Malfoy turned red with rage. "You - you -"

He couldn't seem to find the words to say, which was a surprise, I can tell you.

"Just fuck off Malfoy," Lydia said bluntly. "Go back to little Barbie arse over there." She pointed at Pansy, who was sat in front of the fire, flirting with a seventh year.

"I swear to God," Malfoy hissed, "if you ever say or do anything to me again, I'll make sure you won't live to see next year!"

"Ooh," I said sarcastically. "I'm quivering in my shoes."

"Come off it," Lydia said, rolling her eyes. "Who're you trying to kid with that tough guy act? 'Cause let me tell you, it's not working."

Malfoy decided to go for the dignified entrance, only that didn't work because, when his back was turned, I waved my wand and magically tripped him up. He landed, sprawled across the floor, that head of perfect blond hair messed up. Lydia and I burst out laughing.

Hurriedly standing up, he threw one last glare in our direction, smoothing his hair down and flouncing away, back to Pansy.

That night when I went to bed, it hit me. I knew the perfect prank to pull on Potter; but it needed some work and I fell asleep still thinking about it.