The Locket
Blaise stopped short a few feet away from the orphanage. He had no idea why he was here, but sure enough, his feet had carried him this way unawares. Deciding not to question his feet’s actions he sat himself down with his back to a tree to do some long overdue thinking. He’d been thinking a lot in the past few days, but not about the right things.
There was a decision to make, and he had to do it quickly. He had to weigh his options and make sure he knew what he wanted to do. Suddenly Blaise realized that making decisions was not one of his strong points, especially when it came to life-changing decisions such as this.
If he joined Voldemort he would momentarily be saving his ass, as well as his mother, but for how long? The Death Eaters were not strangers to long terms in Azkhaban, Death sentences, or even being killed by Aurors. No, he told himself, forget the Aurors, there was much more pain involved from Voldemort himself. You couldn’t be a Death Eater and not please the Dark Lord. And Blaise knew for certain that the Dark Lord had no objection to subjecting his own minions to occasional bouts of torture. Minions.
Casting that thought aside he turned to his other option. If he didn’t accept the Dark Lord’s offer then he would be thrown, like it or not, into the arms of the Order of the Phoenix. The thought was not one he relished. He knew that he would need them to help him and his mother stay alive if he chose to stay out of the ranks of the Death Eaters.
Which brought him to the last option, his mother’s suggestion. She wanted to run away and escape being a pawn of either side. She said they had no place in this war. But Blaise was not entirely sure he wanted to run. He was not entirely sure that the freedom of being his own man was worth the cowardly feat. He was not sure he wanted to live in the shadows any longer. War was after all a time when men showed their true fiber, Blaise Zabini wanted to be great. He was after all a Slytherin. The problem was, the way it seemed none of his choices offered him a chance at greatness.
He sighed. Thinking the same thoughts over and over again was not going to bring him any closer to a choice. Maybe this was the time for that disgusting Gryffindor trait of acting on pure impulse. Acting before thinking. There was only one problem. He didn’t have a gut reaction - not this time. And if he didn’t think about it then he would just follow his mother. He smirked. Again, he would be following.
He watched the sun rise over the doomed world in a state of constantly rising panic. He had to think of something, but he was trapped. Tangled in a sticky spider’s web, his family. Whoever said that blood was thicker than water was a fool. It was thin, thin as a tiny spider’s string, but it was also sticky. You couldn’t get rid of it, no matter how frail it was.
He wanted to do something, something that would make him great. He wasn’t sure exactly what, but why bother with thinking of something. It was never going to happen. Not because he was a cowardly Slytherin, or because he was uninterested in the war. It was because of his mother. No matter how much he hated her he couldn’t let go. She was the only thing he had. Blaise Zabini had never allowed himself to think about it, to dwell on it, but he was alone. All he had was his mother. No father, no brothers, and because he was a damn Slytheirn, no friends.
He didn’t want a stupid family like the Weasleys, or even a father like Draco’s, but a man needed someone to talk to. Especially when his mother wasn’t an option any longer. And that was why Blaise Zabini found himself doing the most foolish thing he could possibly do in his life.
But it wasn’t his fault. She snuck up on him in a very Slytherin-like fashion, and for some strange reason unknown to Blaise, he felt a sense of comfort sinking in as the Muggle girl sat down beside him on the grass. It was a short silence, and Blaise was the one who broke it. He spilled his secrets, his confusion, everything to the girl, gesturing wildly with his arms when he came to the part about his fight with his mother.
Suddenly the girl’s face paled and he began to fear that she would collapse any second. He turned around to see if there was something behind his back. No, no Death Eaters sneaking up on him to exact their revenge.
He turned back to the girl who looked like she was trying to swallow Neville’s stupid toad whole. Suddenly it hit him.
“Listen, I know I sound insensitive talking to you about my mother, but…” Blaise trailed off, mentally berating himself for sounding like that. Of course he was insensitive, and he always had been, and there wasn’t a problem with that.
Suddenly, as he resolved to just leave, he felt her grab him in a disgustingly Weasley-like hug. He spluttered for a few seconds trying not to think about how underrated hugging was. She was currently crying into his shoulder, he wondered whether she thought this actually helped. Or maybe she was trying to distract him from his problems; that was certainly working.
“Blaise…” she muttered in a choked whisper. His eyes widened and he pushed her off.
“I don’t think I remember saying my name,” he whispered calmly. His mind was anything but calm at the moment though. She couldn’t be a witch from Hogwarts, a Hufflepuff he hadn’t noticed or something. But it would explain the sudden calm he felt whenever she was around; it was definitely some kind of soothing spell.
“I…you…” she was trying to regain her calm once more, and he waited patiently for an explanation, “We…where did you get this,” she attempted to snatch the locket he had been absently fingering once more. Blaise raised an eyebrow at this change of tact. If she thought that would help her escape an inevitable explanation then she was gravely mistaken.
She suddenly smiled and uttered a single word: “Twins.”
It was a good thing she had chosen that moment to smirk. It was a very Blaise-like smirk. He sat there staring at her, remembering the way she had expertly snuck up on him, no one snuck up on Blaise.
As he sat there listening to her explanation Blaise could not help but notice how tiny and frail she was. She finally told him how she had decided not to go to school because she was needed to help out in the orphanage, because it was her home, because she had been hoping that someone would come for her. That a family would come for her. Suddenly it struck him.
“You’re a witch aren’t you?” he demanded somewhat angrily. She pulled out a letter and then another from a large pocket in her skirt.
“The Du-headmaster man said that my-our parents were killed in a wizard war, he never said you were there.”
“He didn’t know,” Blaise realized. Aveline Zabini was certainly a clever witch. A clever, Slytherin witch. He shoved the necklace towards her somewhat rudely. It probably would have been better to clasp it round her neck or some other such nonsense, but he was not only hopeless at being gentle with anyone but his moth-Aveline, he was also very fond of the thing.
“I don’t care about this,” she said holding it out by the chain as if she was about to drop it into the grass, “Except that it helped me find you.”
Suddenly Blaise realized that he was now responsible for his twin sister’s life as well. He realized that running from the war was not a choice, because if it didn’t find him it would find others who he could, and should, have protected. He needed to make his decision, and if none of the choices he had were good enough, then he just needed to make a choice. But first, a visit to dear old mum was in order. He tightened his grip on the locket and stood up.
“Wait here,” he simply stated, “She might hurt you.”
She was still sitting in the same position he had left her. Not a single tear on her face. She was waiting. Waiting as if she was absolutely sure he would come back. He hated to admit that she knew him better than himself. When he left he had been absolutely sure that he would never return.
He walked over to her slowly and stood a few inches before her. Her initial expression of relief gave way to fear when he held up the locket. She knew where it had come from. She knew that he knew the truth.
“I really don’t care to hear long winded explanations,” his voice was harder than even he expected, “All I want to know is simply why I was not allowed to be with my twin for seventeen years.”
She laughed. A long hollow laugh.
“Surely you heard what Slughorn said,” her voice was eerily desperate, “You were throwing it all in my face only a few hours ago.”
“I was,” he agreed becoming thoughtful.
“The one murder I regretted was when I killed my own son,” she said, “She must be a nice girl, a sweet little wholesome girl that cares about other people, but you. You clearly take after your mother. So go become a killer because that’s what I taught you, isn’t it?”
“What?” he was becoming very confused. Women really didn’t know how to begin an explanation it seemed.
“Just leave,” she ordered in hardened voice, “I took care of you for seventeen years so don’t aggravate me. Just simply leave and go do what ever it is that you want. It was nice to be called mother, and…” she took a deep shaking breath, “Just go.”
“I’ll be damned if I listen to a crying woman,” he said his eye fixed on the single tear that was making it’s way down her cheek. He raised the necklace a little higher and flung it violently behind his back.
…………
Five hours later as Blaise rolled up his left sleeve an Owl fluttered in through one of the windows of number twelve Grimmauld Place. Remus sighed as he opened the letter telling himself that it would be the last one he opened this night. The others he would burn without a glance, checking the mail really was tedious.
Besides the Jinx that had been placed on it so that only Ginny Weasley could open it, which he managed to counter in a matter of seconds, it seemed pretty safe. What he found in that letter however, was most interesting. Unlike the usual vague letter from Harry and his friends, or the hasty scribbles that made him want to pound Hagrid’s old teachers one by one, it had a very interesting content.
Dearest Miserable Weasley,
You are undoubtedly reading this in a dusty old room in some hole you have been locked up in for the summer. It seems Hogwarts is to reopen, but I’m sure they haven’t told you about that yet. You mustn’t blame them for trying to keep such a hot-tempered person safe from the woes of war. What they seem to forget is that you’re most likely going to either strangle yourself out of frustration and boredom or discover some sort of way to escape.
I know about your little encounter in your first year, which is why I am writing to you. No doubt Potter and his little minions haven’t told you a thing about it, though you can be assured they know more about your ‘accident’ than they’ve ever let on, as do most of the older minions of Dumbledore of course.
Now I happen to be very interested in that particular area of study myself, which is why you are to spend the rest of your summer finding out everything you can at headquarters. You will remember anything you find out and tell it to me when I ask you to. I will also share any information that I have gained on the matter with you on a few conditions:
You are to burn any letter you receive from me as soon as you have read it.
You are not to write back until you are back in Hogwarts, and even then not too frequently.
You are not to tell a single person any of this or else I promise you there will be hell to pay.
If you tell them you are interested in becoming a Healer they will be so thrilled you gave up on the fighting issue they’ll send you off early. It is crucial for my plan for you that you return to Hogwarts.
Finally I will leave you with one fact. Voldemort seeks immortality above all else. You were undoubtedly a part of this quest. This should be enough food for your thoughts for now.
Now, go burn the letter. Immediately.
Remus smiled as he walked down the hallway towards Ginny’s room. He knocked three times and then stepped in after hearing her angry roar.
“This letter is for you,” he said matter-of-factly, “But it seems to be charmed so only you can open it. I’ll have to be here just in case something happens while you read it. Go on then, I’m almost certain it’s safe.”
He watched her face twisted in look of deep concentration as she read the letter. Finally it relaxed into a grin.
“Oh, it’s just a friend from school,” she said clearly hoping he would leave, “She says her parents are letting her go back to Hogwarts so she can still have a chance at being a Healer, but my parents won’t even discuss it.”
“You never said anything about being a Healer before did you?” he asked amused.
“Well that was only because I was so angry at their stupid lame excuses for keeping me back. They wouldn’t even discuss it to find out what I wanted!”
”I see,” he said wondering just how much she had inherited from her twin brothers. She was certainly a good liar, “Well I’ll see if I can talk to Molly myself, I tend to be somewhat skilled at calming her when she’s in a temper, maybe she’ll see reason.”
