The Story of Blaise Zabini

Chapter 6

When Pranks Go Really Wrong

It was so simple, yet so unexpected, that it was no surprise it had taken me so long to come up with it. Of course, Lydia and I needed the expert help of Fred and George, without them knowing it.

The first thing to do was to ask them, in a roundabout kind of way, the best way to charm stuff like clothes, paper, or sweets. They were suspicious, but I think we managed to convince them that we just wanted to know.

The next thing was to get a box of sweets. Like Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, for example. Then we put a charm on them, and left them somewhere where we knew Potter would find them.

The charm on the sweets? You'll see.

Lydia and I hid behind a stone statue in a corridor that we knew Potter and his friends were going to walk along, and waited for the fun to start.

The Every Flavour Beans were randomly placed at the bottom of the stairs ahead of us, looking so innocently appetizing that I could've just picked them up and eaten them. But I knew what had happened to them.

It was the perfect plan; charm some sweets that would make Potter and his groupies become the embodiment of sin, and watch them in action for a few hours, until the charm wore off. But, oh no. Of course, it wouldn't go to plan now, would it?

There was someone coming up the corridor, muttering to themselves incoherently. But it wasn't Potter.

It was Filch.

Filch is the caretaker; and what a mean old git he is too. He holds a personal grudge against every student in Hogwarts, and his mangy cat, whom he calls Mrs Norris, follows you about everywhere, until Filch appears, gasping for breath, behind you.

He saw the red bag of Beans, and glared at them suspiciously for a few moments, before picking them up. It was quite funny, actually, to see old Filch looking into the bag cautiously, as though it was about to explode.

But then, horror of horrors, he reached into the bag and pulled a Bean out. It was pink. Oh, shit ...

You see, the charm we put on them was a seven deadly sin kind of charm. You eat one, and you become the epitome of that sin for a few hours. We gave them different colours so we knew which was which. Black for pride; red for rage; grey for avarice; blue for sloth; green for envy; yellow for gluttony. And pink ... for lust.

I looked at Lydia and tried hard not to laugh. The thought of Filch running around under the influence of lust was just too funny. But we couldn't let it happen. I mean, okay if it had been Potter and his friends, then we would've left them to it. But Filch is a member of Hogwarts staff and whatever happens to him, the other teachers are going to know about it. And me and Lydia aren't exactly innocent, now, are we?

So we came from behind the statue and hurried over to Filch, but it was too late; he'd already eaten the Bean. The only hope we had, was that because this was the first time we'd used them, they wouldn't work. Please don't work, I thought, please...

"What do you want?" Filch asked brusquely, staring at us in loathing.

"Well ... um - we ..." Lydia stammered, but she couldn't seem to get the words out.

"Yes?" Filch said sarcastically. "Wouldn't happen to be hiding Dungbombs in your pockets, would you?"

"No!" I protested, far too quickly, so that it sounded as if we were guilty.

Filch sneered, and was just about to say something, when a voice behind him said:

"Is there a problem here?"

Filch, Lydia and I all turned to see who it was.

There stood Professor McGonagall, her expression one of mild curiosity.

"No, no Professor," Filch said quickly. "I was just about to confiscate this bag of sweets from these two." He jerked his head at us.

"Argus," McGonagall said, in a tone of great weariness, "may I ask why you are going to confiscate something as harmless as Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans?"

"I have reason to believe these are enchanted Professor," Filch said in a greasy voice.

"Bull!" I said, before I could stop myself.

Lydia nudged me as McGonagall turned her attention to me.

"Perhaps we should continue this discussion in my office?" she said coldly and swept off in the opposite direction. With Filch behind us, we followed her.

There, she stared long and hard at me and Lydia for a few minutes. She was just about to say something when Filch suddenly burst out with:

"May I say, Professor, that you are looking enchantingly lovely today?"

There was a long silence, while McGonagall looked at Filch in disbelief. I glanced at Lydia in horror. Oh god what have we done?

"W-why thank you Argus," McGonagall said hesitantly, "but this is hardly the time for ... compliments."

"But Minerva," Filch protested, "why deny yourself? You know you want me."

And he approached her, took her hand and kissed it.

McGonagall looked like she was about to have a heart attack.

"GET OUT!" she shrieked at Filch, who, with a last parting kiss - this time on her cheek - retreated from her office.

McGonagall sank down into the chair behind her desk, and took several deep breaths.

As for me and Lydia, well, neither of us had ever seen a more disgusting sight. I mean, Filch is ... just gross. Even the air around him feels polluted. To see him kissing McGonagall was nauseating.

"Would either of you two like to explain that to me?" McGonagall said weakly.

So we explained our plan to let Potter eat the Beans, and how Filch had come along and ruined it.

McGonagall listened to us, without interrupting, until we'd finished.

"I see," she said eventually. "I must say that was one of the worst experiences of my life." She shuddered then continued. "Now, I will not confiscate those sweets on the condition that you never ever use them again. Ever. Understand?"

We nodded; there wasn't much else we could do, not with McGonagall looking so unusually horrified.

Five minutes later, we left her office silently. She was still looking ill when we left. I got the feeling she was going to burn the robes she was in, and try to put the incident behind her.

That night, I put my hand in my pocket, and found the Beans there. I pulled them out, looked at them for a few minutes, wondering what it would've been like if Potter had eaten them; then I shoved them to the bottom of my trunk, and didn't take them back out until a few years later.