Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

Firebrand

AN: Standard disclaimer does apply.

I have had this story in my head for a while now. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Firebrand Chronicles

Book One: Behind Closed Doors

Chapter I

My name is Blaise Alexander Zabini. I can not tell you where I live, only that the place is close enough to the Parkinson manor for our two families to be well acquainted.

I was born October 5 to the master and mistress of Applegate manor, then Saxton and Vitoria Zabini. The story of my birth is a favorite one of Janice, the one maid who managed to remain in the house after my father's death.

Janice is quite old now, nearly one-hundred-fifteen, and while she insists on continuing with her duties as house keeper, she spends more time in front of the library fire mending, than anything else. Her blue eyes crease with a smile and her stitching stops as she tells the story.

"Well young master," she starts inviting me to sit beside her. "It was as dark a night as I've ever seen. The rain was pounden on the windows so hard we thought it'd break through, and the thunder was a crashen . . . the midwife couldn't get through the storm so that left only Cassie and me, the other's not knowen a thing about babies.

"Just Cassie and me. Dear Cassie, may she find a better life beyond the grave." Janice closes her eyes a minute to remember the dead before she continues.

"It was just us helping your mother, and I'll tell you young Master we thought we'd lost you. You see there was your mother a huffin and pushin as hard as anything, and you come and don't make a sound. Scared me as bad as anything.

"Well the Cassie takes you. 'It's a boy Madam.' She says, and the Cassie must have done something to clear out your airways, young Master, because it was then you started to cry, as clear and sharp a whale as any babe I've ever heard.

"It was then you're father walked in and took you from Cassie and held you up to his face. 'A son, Vitoria, we have a son!' I'm not sure your mother heard him. Her labor had been hard and she was soon fast asleep.

"Your father looked you over holding you gently in his arms. 'She'll want a family name.' he said looking at your mother. 'Blaise after your father, and Alexander after mine.' He paused and your mother opened her eyes long enough to nod her approval. 'Blaise Alexander,' he said handing you to me. 'Firebrand of the Army, He will be great someday.' A good man your father."

Janice always stops here, something happened after I was handed over to her, something she refuses to speak of.

My parent's marriage was more one of convenience then of love. Saxton Zabini was my mother's third husband, but he was rich, what the Muggles might call a Lord of the Land, and he needed a wife who knew the inner circle and etiquette of the society he had to circuit. His relationship with my mother was distant but kind, and with me he was a kind and loving if not perfect father. I do not know what kind of man he was outside the home, I was not allowed into his 'friends' society. At the time it was too dangerous to put his family at risk by introducing them to his colleges. And it was also to dangerous to discuss politics in front of a little boy who like to repeat everything he heard. I do know that he and Mother differed greatly in their opinions of government and laws.

I never had a chance to know my father very well. He did not live long past my second birthday. When asked Mother falls silent and purses her lips, Janice tears up, and Bert the house elf will only say "Master was a very great master."

As little as I know about my father I look even less like him. In fact I look like a male version of my mother. My eyes like hers are a dark brown almost black, my father's were a lighter shade, My father's hair was also a much light shade of the dark almost black locks mother and I both possess. Mother and I also share the same facial features. Long straight nose, high cheek bones too wide a mouth. On mother the face is beautiful. I'm not nearly so good looking, but I don't mind. I supposed the only thing I share with my father (aside from a slightly lighter skin tone) is the fact that while mother's face is heart shaped, mine is long and angular. That and I have his height. I'm too tall.

None of this is really very important to the story I was telling, so I'll move on.

As I have already said my parent's marriage was a matter of convenience. This was a face that I learned very quickly young as I was. The servants and Bert the house elf all went out of their way to make sure I understood this. After father's death it was worse. Mother's new husband cared nothing for a child that was not his.

It was at the end of October when I herd voices arguing in the front hall of the manor, one of them father's. The other voice scared me for some reason and I went to make sure father was all right. I won't go into the whole of the tale. Suffice it to say the other voice belonged to a dark robed man, who saw fit to give me a scar along my left clavicle. I will never forget that man's face. He would have killed me, but my father had the foresight to summon the house elf and order him to take me to safety. The last words I heard him say were "Bert, protect my son."

When I was returned home latter that night Saxton Zabini was dead. About a week and a half later the wizarding world was thrown into an uproar when a young toddler by the name of Harry Potter defeated He Who Must Not Be Named. The war was over people were safe again, but for my family it was too late.

A year later Mother remarried a man by the name of Brian Galtero. I know he was displeased with me. The fact of the matter was that Saxton Zabini had been smart in his will. While mother inherited a great deal of money, her wardrobe, a fraction of the library and a small portion of the Zabini family Jewelry, I was given everything else including the house and the elf. My father's father, Grandfather Alexander, was named overseer until I came of age. (though he chose not to live with us.) Thus my father had insured, not only that I would be taken care of, but that I would continue to grow up in the environment to which I was accustomed regardless of how many time mother remarried. If Brian had his way mother would have sold the property and moved to some private residence near Paris.

Brian was not in the habit of speaking to me, not even after he officially became 'head' of our little family. He detested children. I was of very little sentimental value to him. I could however be used for is own gains and this I learned to expect. One particular instance I remember quite well.

I was five, and as young children generally do when they are sent to bed before the usual time, I snuck down stairs to grab a snack from the kitchen. I knew Bert had baked a bach of cookies after dinner, and I also knew that if I asked nicely he would ignore Janice's order about sweets before bed and give me one. Brian was at home that night and I herd his voice as I passed the drawing room door. I paused wondering if it would be safe to go in and wish him good night. I knew he didn't particularly like me, but young as I was I failed to understand why. I had some thought that if I was nice and helpful he might grow to like me and I could have a real father again. Before I could touch the door however I hear mother's voice. She sounded angry and I knew then it would not be safe to go in. I should have left, but mother's words caught my attention. I could not then have made myself leave if I had tried.

"Please Brian, he is my son, and he does have a name."

"Pathetic excuse for a name."

They were arguing over me. This shocked me to no end because hard as I tried I could not summon up what I could have done to be discussed in such a manor. My desire to find out why I was in trouble overwhelmed me and I moved closer to the door so I could hear their conversation better.

"I've told you, Brian, he's just what a boy his age can be expected to be!"

"Good! His training begins tomorrow."

"No!" my mother gasped. I of course had no idea what this meant. "Brian you can't."

"You're the one who's always asking me to spend more time with him, what better way then this. As least I can insure some use comes out of him."

"He's only five."

"It's hardly like I'm going to teach him to duel, Vitoria. I've made up my mind."

A hand came down on my shoulder and it was all I could do not to yelp.

"This is not that place for you, young master." Janice was taking my hand and leading me back to bed. "Come, back to sleep you go." The adults continued yelling at each other. They were never told I had been there.

'Training' began the next day. Brian began with wizarding chess, teaching me to think ahead of my current actions, and progressed onwards from there. His dislike of me continued in spite of the time we spent together, and I in tern learned to dislike him. We did however have an understanding and seldom quarreled much to mother's relief. I chose to defer rather then let her see me get into trouble. I honestly learned to enjoy the lessons Brian saw fit to teach me. It was easier to learn and enjoy it then attempt to rebel, and there was an added bonus. Brian promised to find someone to teach me sword play when I was old enough. (He claimed it would later help my dueling skills.) That was something I wanted very much to learn since Janice usually put me to bed with stories of heroes and princes who fought dragons to save their homeland.

Brian unfortunately was killed in an accident at his work when I was six (what he did I was never quite sure.) Mother remarried again several months later, this time to a man named Damian Moran.

I liked Damian. He made an effort to get to know me me, and I did my best to make sure he knew he was welcome in our house. He very early learned of my interest in learning the sword and on my seventh birthday he found me an instructor. He also continued where Brian at left off with the chess games, though Damien played for fun. And where Brian had made it clear I was to stay out of the way, Damian encouraged me to come talk with him any time he was home. He took over the home office my father had used, but at my request left Father's portrait hanging on the wall between the book shelf and the window. When I expressed an interest in his work, he encouraged me to watch and learn as he went about his job. Damian was an accountant for Gringotts Bank. It was from him that I learned how the house was run how much money was required to keep it running and the inhabitants living comfortable and in short how to managed the estates that had been left to me by my father.

While Damian was teaching me how to make a living Janice was teaching me other things. The proper etiquette for a high society wizard for one thing. How to dace, which utensils to use at dinner, how to properly address my elders, when to bow and when I should be bowed too, and contrary to mother's orders, (at my Grandfather's request) how to get along in muggle society. Janice even had me read several classic Muggle novels, or rather she read them to me when Mother was out. Damian seemed to enjoy them as well, or rather he never said a word about this activity to Mother when she was home.

I owe Damian and Janice more then just my education. They were the one's who taught me how to have fun. Damian had a love of horses and at my excitement and grandfather's blessing he had a stable put in on the grounds. He taught me how to ride, and when He was gone, Janice would supervise other outdoor activities, though she mostly sat in a chair and knitted while I did what ever it was I had gotten into my brain to do. And Bert, through out all the changes, stayed by my side fulfilling my father's last order, to protect me. Bert was by no means unwelcome company. Having never been taught otherwise, and not having another little boys my age in the neighborhood I could play with, I very quickly made Bert my friend, Brian had disapproved of this behavior, but Damian and Janice encouraged it. Mother, after deciding that Bert was something of a built in babysitter, ignored the friendship altogether. Perhaps because he was such a friend I always made sure that Bert was included in the family holidays, giving him gifts that were suitable for a house elf, a new set of pans, a rug to stand on in the kitchen, I even went so far as to convert a small pantry closet into a small room just for him. Though the last was mainly Damian's idea.

I had always assumed that Bert had his own room, but one day, soon after Damian and Mother's marriage, I learned differently. I found my way to Damien's office and upon his realizing how upset I actually was, I confided to him that I had just learned that Bert slept in a basket under the kitchen sink. Damian, amused more then anything, assured me that that little fact could be remedied, and it very soon was.

I have mentioned previously that my 'family' was well acquainted with the Parkinson's. In fact Pansy Parkinson participated in much of Janice's etiquette lesions. We were often scolded for making faces at each other across the table among other things, and although I still maintain that I never once stepped on Pansy's toes, Pansy claims it's my fault learning to dance was so tedious. The Parkinson family was never made aware of the Muggle aspects of my education, Pansy would have removed herself from my company had she even suspected.

I was never quite certain why we were schooled together, perhaps it was our parents' way of encouraging a marriage. Had that been their intention I'm sorry to say they failed miserablely. Pansy and I quickly learned that we were incompatible in every way except as friends. For the longest time Life was good. And then, when I was ten, the unthinkable happened.


	2. Chapter 2

Firebrand

Firebrand Chronicles

Book One: Behind Closed doors

Chapter II

I won't go into the day Damien died. I will only say that afterward I was able to see the Thestrals.

About a month before his death, some time after my tenth birthday, Mrs. Parkson had a friend come to visit. Milord was tall, skinny, had a thin mouth, red curly hair, and a large fortune. Somehow he arrived on the evening of a dinner party and immediately made himself known to the hosts. While at the party he was introduced to mother and Damian. I don't know how or why, only that some how he managed to weasel his way into their affairs, even becoming something like a confidant to mother. He desired my mother, that much was clear. Damian seemed to be irrelevant, and me, well I was nothing to Milord until he realized my mother's plan for me, what ever that was at the time. There is some evidence that Mother spent more time with Milord then was strictly respectable.

That month was one of the longest I've ever endured. Milord was always popping in for a chat, Damian was unhappy with something, Janice was always disappearing out of the way, and Mother spent an unduly amount of time watching out of windows. Also during this time Mother's temper grew worse then ever.

It never came to open blows, but for that month the majority of what I hear out of her mouth was unkind, unedited, and brought forth by an unusual amount of stress. What was causing it, I didn't know, but it was during this same month, witnessing mother's temper in full force, that I first decided to learn to govern my own.

Damian often told me after these encounters, that "quiet words worked better then shouting." I almost didn't believe him, but I very quickly discovered that the less I yelled back the sooner it was over. Day by day I grew better at biting my own tongue until it became second nature.

Then it happened. Damian's fall, his blood all over me, his last few words. And the aftermath. Various strange wizards all over the house, a grizzled man with a chunk missing from his nose and a tall dark bald wizard with an earring who asked me questions I knew I could not answer at the time. There were others in the house whose lives were at stake. Damian must have believed he would die soon, either that or disappear some where, because when I disappeared into his office later that day I found a letter on his desk addressed to me.

Milord, who originally planned to leave at the end of the month, extended his stay. He claimed he wished to help us through our time of grief, I knew better. And I was soon proven right. In a bare couple of weeks Mother had remarried for the sixth time. I refused to be present for the ceremony. Janice avoided Milord at all costs. "Nothing like the late Lord Saxton or Mister Damian," she whispered to me one night making sure I was ready for bed. "He is the exact opposite of those gentlemen in everyway. Beware of him Blaise." I did not need her to tell me this.

I did not go out of my way to avoid Millard, but I made no effort to befriend him either. In fact I often went out of my way to insult him in mixed company.

I remember one such instance when Mother and the Parkson family had decided to entertain Lucius Malfoy in hope of introducing one of Milord's more promising investment opportunities. After a morning out doing who knows what, they had decided to break in our conservatory.

Upon learning Mr. Malfoy had a son my age Milord immediately said, "You should have brought him, Lucius, I'm sure he and Blaise would have gotten along quite well together. As the great writer's say, 'one learns more when they constantly keep company with another.'"

"You should get rid of that pet snake," I muttered under my breath, "I'm sure it's run out of things to teach you by now." I'd not intended to be heard by any one except Milord, unfortunately my comment fell in one of the lengthy pauses adult's so enjoy. It was heard by the entire room. Had we not had company I have no doubt I would have found my self hexed in a very small amount of time. Lucius Malfoy laughed. "Your son has a quick wit, Vitoria, he will do well in the world." He was only adding insult to injury, and Milord knew it. (I was not to meet Draco until just before we started Hogwarts.)

Life continued on much as mention above. I could do nothing about Milord's presence in my home, neither could he get rid of me. Aside from Mother's second pregnancy and the birth of my younger sister, nothing changed much. It's funny really. That my mother's children should look so much like her and have very little trace of their fathers. I at least had some features of mine, Abigail, as my little sister was named had none. It fact she looked a great deal like Damian. A fact I kept solely to myself. It was also this fact that allowed me to feel as though I might play some part in the child's life. Had I felt she was Milord's child (as he believed) I would have had nothing to do with her. As it was even I could work out the timing between Abigail's birth and Mother's new marriage. It didn't quite fit, though this fact failed to reach milord's think brain, and the entire house hold worked to keep it that way.

Nothing else of much significance happened at this time and so I will skip forward to the end of July two months before my twelfth birthday a large grey owl had arrived early that morning during breakfast. After dropping a letter on my plate, trying and failing to sit on Bert's head, and eating all of Milord's breakfast (Milord was still upstairs) The owl flew back out of the window and landing in a large tree stuck it's head under it's wing and went promptly to sleep. The letter was the expected acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and with it a list of supplies. A trip to Diagon alley was penciled into the schedule for near the end of August.

During the shopping trip, Milord, who unfortunately had volunteered to escort me, abandoned me in the middle of The Leaky Cauldron saying only that he had some more personal shopping needs to attend to. The moment I stepped foot into Diagon Alley, located behind the pub, Pansy Parkinson appeared out of nowhere and latched herself to my arm.

"Blaise, Darling!, I've been waiting forever for you to show up. There's some one you simply have to meet. That is if he hasn't left yet."

I grinned and let her drag me down the street towards a small ice-cream parlor.

At one of the tables out front sat three boys about my age. Two of the three were rather large fellows with faces like gorillas and arms like cinderblocks. How any eleven year old can look like that I have yet to determine. While both boys looked to be no threat to me, (their size and evident stupidity would be to my advantage if nothing else,) it was the third that drew my attention.


	3. Chapter 3

Firebrand

AN: Thank you very much to theconfinesofgravity for your review. To answer your question I have the first and second year completed, I simply need the time to type them out and post. (I write everything in a notebook beforehand)

Please feel free to tell me of any errors you find grammatical or otherwise so I can fix them, I always appreciate a little constructive criticism. How else am I to improve as a writer?

I hope you continue to enjoy this little story of mine!

As always the standard disclaimer does apply.

Firebrand

Book One: Behind Closed doors

Chapter III

He was shorter then me. He had platinum blond hair and wore a look on his face that let me know immediately that he was the type, who if he wanted to get me into trouble, knew exactly what to say, and who to say it too.

"Name's Draco Malfoy," he said rising to great me.

"Blaise Zabini." I said inclining my head towards him.

"These are Crabbe and Goyle." The two boulders nodded their heads at me as their names were announced and I noticed that Goyle looked slightly smarter.

"Pansy." I asked pulling a chair out for her to sit in, "what would you like?"

"Oh nothing really."

"You sure?"

"Yes, Mother wants to take the family out tonight so I really shouldn't."

"Alright then." I went and ordered my self a chocolate malt. The other three boys already had their ice cream.

It was as I returned with my malt that I noticed a rather large man making his way through the crowd. Or rather the crowd was making way for him. There was nothing truly unusual there, until one noticed the small black haired boy bobbing along behind him.

"The brute Hagrid." Draco said in a whisper noticing where I was looking. "I hear he's roaring drunk half the time, but he's the Hogwarts groundskeeper. Can you imagine?"

"Rubius Hagrid," I replied with a small smile recalling what Damian had told me more then a year ago, "was expelled in his third year. For what I wasn't told. Something to do with an uncontrollable monster for a pet. Anyway, supposedly Dumbledore felt sorry for him and let him stay." Draco seemed impressed. "What interests me though," I continued, moving around the table for a better look, "is the boy following him. If I didn't know he'd been seen in the leaky cauldron this morning I wouldn't say anything. But . . ."

"Blaise?" Pansy asked, "What are you getting at?"

"He's a potter Pansy, I'm sure of it!"

"What . . . What makes you say that?" a low voice asked cautiously. Goyle at least, had been paying attention to the conversation.

"Have you ever read any of the old newspaper articles? Come to think of it the Merlanus Wisarding Library had articles plastered all over the back corner." It never occurred to me that the others had never set foot in the library, though after my observations on Crabb and Goyles' apparent stupidity it probably should have.

It was then Pansy's mother showed up. "Blaise, darling, I was informed you were to do your shopping with us." I rose, said my goodbyes, and headed off trailing after the Parkinsons.

"Wand's first." Mrs. Parkinson said motioning us into Ollivander's. "Your father."

"He may be my mother's husband, Mrs. Parkinson, but he is not my father."

Her lips pursed, but she continued where I had cut her off. "I was given explicit instructions. Milord wants to start working with you as soon as possible." I paled slightly. Mother had often considered it a joke, but Milord had often remarked that the moment I had my wand he was going to teach me to duel. I knew full well he was serious. Not to mention the fact that as long as I was on our own property, supervised by an adult, and completely out of view of any Muggles, the Ministry would not interfere.

"Well now Mr. Zabini," a soft voice said behind me, "it is Zabini?"

This was probably the first time anyone had ever managed to sneak up on me, though I am quite sure that was not Mr. Ollivander's intention. I must have jumped a foot in the air as I turned to face him, but he seemed not to notice. For a brief moment I wondered how many people he had startled in all his years of service.

"Which is your wand arm?" He asked smoothly. I held out my left hand and a magically enhanced tape measure sprang into action. Another was already doing the same to Pansy.

"Let's see, let's see, dragon heart string, ash, eleven inches . . ." Master Ollivander handed me a wand only to snatch it out of my fingers seconds later. He did this several times occasionally handing me one Pansy had just tried, other times summoning boxes from the back of the shop.

Pansy found her wand rather easily, or as Master Ollivander said, 'the wand found her.' The fifth one she laid her hands on shot out a shower of silver sparks.

"Ahh," Master Ollivander exclaimed, "Unicorn hair and ash. Ten inches. Perfect for charm work."

My own wand took quite a bit longer. So much longer that Mrs. Parkinson left and came back with sets of school books for both of us. Pansy grew board, and making no effort what-so-ever to hide it she spoke. "Mr. Ollivander? How much longer?" Master Ollivander, who was by no means frustrated at the time this was taking, only smiled.

"However long it takes, my dear. It's the wand that chooses the witch or wizard you know, and I never allow anyone to leave my shop with anything less than their match." It was then he gave it to me. The warmth from the handle spread into my hand the moment I grasped it. I'm sure he saw the grin spreading across my face.

"Well, young man, that's Red Oak and dragon heartstring, eight inches you're holding there. I spent some time in the states and that particular tree gave me one of its branches. Gave it to me you understand. The dragon was a Pomeranian black, died fighting a bunch of mountain troll, last of its kind. That wand's been in this shop over forty years . . . aren't you going to give it a wave?"

I did as I was told and was rewarded with a stream of white sparks that seemed to flow out of the tip like water.

"Very powerful wand," Master Ollivander told me as he boxed it up. "I hope you have what it takes to use it as it should be used." Mrs. Parkinson cleared her throat and announced that it was time to head off. The Apothecary first, and then for robes.

The rest of the day's errands were done rather quickly, except for one last stop. Pansy was determined to have a pet. I was indifferent. With Abigail still so young I thought it would be best if I refrained from the responsibility an animal would require for the time being, though Mother had given me permission to bring home something small and quiet.

We found a shop by the name of the Magical Menagerie, and Mrs. Parkinson steered us inside saying she had some things to check on and that we'd better still be there when she returned. The clerk welcomed us but then had to take care of some things in back leaving us to look on our own.

"If you need anything just holler."

There was a large ginger kneezle sitting on the counter, and though it was certainly one of the ugliest creatures I had ever seen, it seemed friendly enough. It allowed me to scratch its ears as I watch Pansy hunt through the store for her 'perfect' pet.

The animals all seemed to be vying for her attention. The clamor of squeaks, barks, humming, and various other noises had been loud enough as we walked in, but it increased as Pansy passed the shelved the creatures were sitting on. A rabbit popped loudly and turned into a top hat, a group of rats started skipping, several fluff ball looking things rolled across the counter, and a large glossy black raven squawked as she passed it before beginning to recite:

_Black as night_

_The raven flies_

_Soaring quietly_

_Across the skies_

Pansy smiled as she saw it, but made no other move of acknowledgement. It was then that I felt a tug at my pocket. I turned just in time to see something white and fuzzy jump down from a low table behind me and race to the center of the room. It was a white kitten. White with a splotch of black thrown across its forehead and eyes in a shape that looked quite a bit like a mask. In its mouth, was my pocket handkerchief.

I wouldn't have minded so much if it had been an ordinary handkerchief, but this particular handkerchief had been a gift from Bert. He wasn't exactly very artistic, but he had attempted to sew some vines into one corner around my initials. Perhaps not the most masculine thing to carry around, but Bert had tried so hard to please me that I had determined to take the best care possible of that little gift. Having it chewed up by a kitten did not make the list of acceptable uses.

I looked at the kitten, and then at the kneezle whose ears I was still scratching. The kneezle gave me a look that said quite plainly, 'well what are you going to do now?' I walked slowly towards the kitten, but before I could get close enough it darted under a table that was holding an assortment of owl cages. The owls hooted as I crawled under after the thief. I managed to pin the cat with one hand and I was just reaching with the other for my handkerchief when I heard it. A very loud rumbling. The handkerchief's thief was purring.

Retrieving the handkerchief proved to be harder than I had initially thought. I had to crawl even further under the table until only my legs were showing in order to get a decent hold on the animal. Otherwise I risked ripping Bert's gift.

"What are you doing?" I jerked upward hitting my head on the underside of the table and causing the owls and cages above to hoot and rattle respectively. Unfortunately I let go of the kitten to grab at my injured head and the animal streaked back towards the counter my handkerchief still in its mouth. I heard Pansy laughing as I managed to crawl out and rise to my feat still rubbing my head. She had to recount her money (she had chosen a glossy black owl) three times because she was laughing so hard she kept loosing her concentration.

And the kitten . . . the animal was on top of the main counter sitting next to the kneezle, my handkerchief under its feet. Still purring so loudly it sounded like a Brazilian hoverpuff on a rainy day. I glared at it, but the kitten only cocked its head to one side and offered up the tiniest mew I'd ever heard, forcing me to ask, "How much?"

Mother had no objection to my bringing home a kitten. A cat person herself she pronounced it 'adorable.' Milord to my great pleasure soon discovered he was allergic. After sever repeated incidents of theft, including but not limited to: Mother's locket, Milord's underwear, a pillowcase, and several dishtowels, the kitten was dubbed as 'Bandit.' The nickname not only suited the animal, but it stuck as well.

The rest of the summer proved to be rather dull, (with the possible exception of Milord attempting to teach me a few spells) and for me, the trip to Hogwarts couldn't come soon enough. There was however one small problem.


	4. Chapter 4

AN: thank you for the reviews

Continue to enjoy my story and as always standard disclaimer does apply.

Firebrand Chronicles

Book One: Behind Closed Doors

Chapter IV

Platform 93/4 was located in King's Cross station in Muggle London. My family had no experience with Muggles, or Muggle clothing. We struggled to find a solution, until Bert ventured to give a rare opinion.

"If Bert may, Bert has seen Muggles shopping. If Master were to wear his plain black pants and white button shirt. Master might look like a nicely dressed Muggle. And if Lady Vitoria," (he had never once called mother mistress) "were to dress herself and Little Abigail in their plainest dresses, Bert does not think there would be a problem"

We followed Bert's advice. Mother my self and Abby were able to flew to the leaky cauldron and take a cab from there. There was some trouble paying the driver with the unfamiliar Muggle money, but it was managed in the end and I very soon found myself inside the station.

I was ten minutes early, but Mother took Abby and departed after kissing me goodbye. I was left to find a compartment on my own. I found one up towards the front that was completely empty. Letting Bandit out, (she immediately began poking around in all the corners) I began to heave my trunk into the overhead bin. I expected Pansy and some of her friends to come find me, but the heads that popped around the door frame were the complete opposite of Parkinson and her gang. Two vary red haired twins grinned at me from the door.

"Oy, midget,"

"There's some people who need seats,"

"Mind if they join you?"

"Not us though."

"We've got seats."

"Near the middle of the train."

"Fine by me." I answered with a shrug, "Long as they like cats. . . . Oh no you don't!" the twins jumped as I lunged for Bandit who had successfully taken what looked like a bag of frog spawn from one of their pockets. The twin laughed.

"Hey George I think this cat might give us a run for our money." George didn't hear him. He was helping several girls load their trunks into the compartment. He did grin, however when he turned and spotted his brother attempting to wrestle the bag of frog spawn out of Bandit's mouth while I held her.

"Oy, Fred, Cat got your spawn?"

After everything was situated the twins left and I was alone in the compartment with three very unfamiliar girls. I grinned ruefully, pulled Bandit (who was trying to escape) back into the compartment, and closed the door.

"Blaise Alexander Zabini," I said sketching a small bow as the girls sat down leaving me a window seat. I took the open space and they in turn began to introduce themselves.

"Lisa Turpin," the first girl stated. She was rather thin with long chestnut hair and she seemed slightly distracted by Bandit who was hiding under the seat and playing with Lisa's untied shoelaces.

"Tracey Davis," gave me a knowing smile when she heard my name. I had heard her name as well though I couldn't place it. She was rather pretty though with an olive completion and short cropped black hair that perfectly framed her face. The last girl, who was already wearing her robes, had bushy brown hair and rather large teeth. She introduced herself and kept on talking.

"Hermione Granger. I was ever so pleased when I got the letter. Hogwarts sounds ever so exciting, which house do you think is the best?"

Tracey answered her before I could say anything, and Lisa, for some odd reason, was absorbed with taking off her shoe.

"Slytherin, without a doubt."

"Really? Why is that? What dose each house stand for anyway? I read Hogwarts a History, but it didn't exactly say why people were sorted into specific houses."

Tracey all but sneered. "Ravenclaws supposedly prize brains above anything else, Hufflepuffs are supposed to work hard, Gryffindors are a bunch of idiots who rush into situations and call it brave. Slytherins now, Slytherins are strong smart and think things through. You will never find a Slytherin who got killed because he didn't plan. As for how we get sorted. . ." Tracey shrugged.

"Oh," Hermione looked perplexed, "what about you two? What house do you want to be in?"

"Slytherin." I answered hoping to keep it simple. I had never really though about it before, but considering my family it was expected of me. "I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad."

"What about you Lisa?" I looked over at her and now saw why she had removed her shoe. Lisa was sitting cross legged on the seat and dangling the shoe laces in front of Bandit who's tiny white paws kept darting back and forth in attempt to catch the strings.

"Lisa?" Hermione tried again.

"What? Oh what house would I like to be in? Ravenclaw. Mum and Dad both were. Mum owns her own apothecary and Dad works for the department of international Wizarding Relations.

"Oh," Hermione looked a bit confused. I wondered briefly if she knew what the D.I.W.R. was. "My parents are both dentists."

"Does that mean you're a Mud . . ggle born?" Lisa looked at me in shock. I could have bit my tongue in half as soon as those words left my mouth. Not only had I asked the obvious, but I'd nearly called her a mudblood."

"Muggle?" she hadn't noticed my slip. "Do you mean non-magical?" I nodded. "Then yes. You can say I'm muggleborn." Tracey was unable to hide the smirk on her face and Lisa was glaring at me the shoe forgotten in one hand, Bandit chewing happily on the laces. Granger looked at them and apparently decided she didn't want to know what the hidden exchange had been, because she stood and announced she was going to go ask the other students what houses they thought were best.

"You were going to call her a Mudblood weren't you!" Lisa accused me the moment the door closed behind Granger. Tracey laughed.

"Of course he was, that is what she is after all."

"I was," I freely admitted. "But the word is commonly used at home, it's not surprising it slipped into my vocabulary." I was mentally kicking my self. The word was used by Milord. I had picked up a habit belonging to a man I hated. "You should be happy I caught it in time." Great now I sounded like a jerk. The last thing I wanted was to start a fight before school even started. Especially if I might end up sharing a house with somebody. "I apologize if I offended you."

Fortunately Lisa decided to drop the subject and instead turned her questions to bandit and how the kitten had gotten her name. That was a subject I was perfectly happy to discus.

We chatted about various magical creatures until the subject got changed to Quidditch and the snack trolley came by. I was a bit disappointed to discover there weren't any raspberry cauldron cakes, but I settled for pumpkin pasties instead. The others bought their own lunches and we all returned to the compartment to eat a bit surprised that Granger hadn't returned yet.

It was then that I noticed that Bandit was missing. Our lunches forgotten the girls helped me search the compartment. Unable to find her I determined she must have snuck out while we were buying our food. We were about to mount a full scale search of the train when she streaked back in followed by a large toad. Bandit dived under the seat hissing and spluttering and the toad hopped back out again.

I crawled partway under the seat and attempted to coax her out with a bit of pasty. Lisa tucked her feet up to give me room and said, her mouth full by the sound, "Shesh a verry fuey kitten." Bandit was just out of range. I couldn't quite reach her and I couldn't get any further under the seat, my shoulders were too big to fit.

There was the sound of the door opening and two sets of footsteps. "Guys have you seen . . . Zabini what are you doing?" I hit my head.

"A toad chased Bandit under the seat. She won't come out." Lisa was laughing.

"Really? Where'd he go?" a male voice I didn't recognize asked.

"Towards the other end of the train."

"Oh."

"Well come on Neville." The door closed.

After I finally got Bandit out from under the seat there was only one other event worth mentioning about the train ride. Malfoy and his two friends poked their heads in offering me a place to change.

"And you're welcome to stay for a while if you want." It was then that he spotted Lisa. Draco evidently already knew Tracey. "Hello, name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

"Lisa Turpin." She shook his hand smiling a little.

"Pureblood?" Lisa's face turned red and I quickly cut in.

"Don't insult her, Malfoy." There was a double meaning in those words. Each heard what they wanted to hear.

I had never experienced anything like to boat ride to Hogwarts before. The lake was smooth the stars were bright, and the castled loomed before us in all it's glory. The awe I felt can not be described. I can only say it was over all too soon. The lost toad was found in one of the boats. How it got there I never quite figured out, I was more concerned with not slipping on the wet grass as we made out way to the front door.

We were then handed over to yet another person. A very stern looking witch who looked exactly the sort to catch any mischief before it started. She herded us into a side room even though we could all hear voices coming from what could only be the Great Hall. She gave us a speech that was completely lost on me, because the moment she mentioned sorting I began to worry.

Mother had never told me what the sorting entailed. Neither had any of her husbands. I guess they wanted to keep it a surprise, though I supposed it was partly my fault because I had never asked.

The Granger girl was standing in front of me muttering about all the spells she knew. I poked her in the shoulder.

"Will you be quiet you're not helping." I hissed. She frowned at me but stopped muttering.

It was then that several ghosts popped through the walls arguing about someone named Peeves. He was the castle poltergeist if I remembered what mother had told me correctly. My hands began to sweat and I began to furiously berate myself wondering what I had gotten into when the professor returned. She had us all line up. I was placed behind Crabbe, and lead in to the hall.

My mental state only got worse from there. As the hat sang and I realized it was going to read my mind, my brain reached a point very near panic. Would it read my past as well as the current thoughts in my head? Would I be arrested when it found out I'd once threatened to kill Milord? Would it decide I was unworthy of a Hogwarts education and send me home? And then, as names began to be called I realized something else. Zabini would be the last name on that list.

So lost in my own thought was I that I completely failed to notice that Crabbe was sent to Slytherin, or that Tracey, Goyal, and Malfoy all joined him there. Only when "Potter, Harry" was called did I snap back to attention. I watched as a short dark haired boy tried on the hat and after a minute or so was sent to Gryffindor. The Gryffindor table was ecstatic. In fact I watched as the twins who had spoken to me on the train jumped up and shouted "We got Potter," across the hall. I cringed inwardly. He was famous and he hadn't really done anything. He wasn't a sports player or great dueler, he hadn't invented anything, just survived, which everybody tried to do naturally.

The rest of the first years were sorted one by one, and finally, when it was only me, my name was called. I sat down and tried to take a deep breath as the hat was lowered over my eyes.

"Hmm, interesting," a voice murmured in my ear. " You have an excellent mind. You work hard when you think there's a point, and I sense a great amount of loyalty towards your . . . sister." I closed my eyes and took another deep breath. "But above all, overriding everything else, I sense a great deal of determination. You are determined to succeed at what ever task you are set. What ever task you set yourself. That will take you far I think. Yes, you will do well in . . . SLYTHERIN."

He shouted the last words, and taking the hat off I all but ran to find my seat. So relieved was I to have made it that I retained nothing of the rest of the night. Not even the location of the common room, or to my later shame, the password. I found my bed, Bandit curled on top the pillow, and promptly passed out.


	5. Chapter 5

Ok, sorry for the late update, life caught up to me. So to make up for it I will be adding several chapters this time.

To theconfinesofgravity I sorry to say that the pm you sent me did not come through completely :(

Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I truly love reading your comments, good or bad, and I am making an effort to edit the earlier chapters, though right now I am more concerned with adding new ones. After all as Haex said I wouldn't want to leave this unfinished. :)

Thank you once again, and as always enjoy.

Standard disclaimer does apply.

Firebrand Chronicles

Book One: Behind Closed Doors

Chapter V

I woke the next morning to a barrage of pillows bouncing off of my head. I groaned and sat up immediacy noticing a boy I had not yet been introduced too, standing at the foot of my bed, one of the offending articles grasped firmly in his hand. He was taller then I, though much skinnier. There was something almost rabbit like about his brown hair grey eyes, and the slight smirk he wore.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he said in a high pitched voice obviously meaning to sound like somebody's mother. "I thought you might not want to miss breakfast. After all the first day of school is a very big day." Malfoy Crabbe and Goyle all laughed uproariously though none of them, I noticed, was out of bed either. It also came to my attention that all of them were missing their pillows, which were now scattered across my bed. I wondered vaguely whether they had been volunteered or stolen by the boy who was still standing at the foot of my bed, grinning at me.

"I'm Theodore Nott." I got up and shook the offered hand. "I don't think we were properly introduced last night."

"Blaise Zabini."

It was just the five of us in that room, and when Draco finally finished dressing we headed up for breakfast. The thought was that if we stuck together we'd have much better luck finding out way, then if we each tried on our own. Getting to the Great Hall was the easy part. Getting to classes was a different matter entirely.

Hogwarts castle, as any family of the wizarding world might expect, had numerous passageways and staircases, and they didn't always head the same place twice. Sticking to the main corridors, however, proved impossible when one added in the presence of Peeves the poltergeist. One quite simply couldn't forget to factor him in, because Peeves went out of his way to make sure he was remembered. He seemed to exist only to cause trouble. Peeves did, fortunately, have a tendency to leave the Slytherins alone, excepting perhaps the first years. This was mainly due to Peeves's well founded fear of the Slytherin houses resident ghost, the Bloody Baron. The Baron absolutely loathed Peeves, though why I never figured out, and what action the Baron could possible take to harm the poltergeist I never learned either.

The other presence that constantly roamed the halls was Mr. Filch the caretaker, and his cat Mrs. Norris. Unlike Potter who got on his bad side the very first day, I heard he was trying to break into the forbidden corridor, I managed to gain his good side.

I had been separated from the other boys on the way to History of Magic, or more appropriately the others had left me behind when I stopped to examine a moving portrait of who I thought was the famous Sr. Garrett of the twelfth-century dragon hunters. When I looked around to find the others gone I did my best to maneuver the corridors on my own. I had just rounded a corner toward what I thought was the boys bathroom, I was relatively sure I could find my way from there, when there was a loud roar and a suit of armor stationed halfway down the hall erupted, sending pieces of armor everywhere. I managed to avoid the flying metal chunks by dodging back round the corner I had just come from. When I was sure it was safe, I headed back towards the bathroom picking up a gauntlet and bid of leg plaiting as I went. Mr. Filch ran around the fork at the end of the hall just in time to see me deposit the pieces next to what was left of the armors base.

"What happened?" he snapped

"I don't know sir it just . . ." I waved my hands in an explosive gesture and he sighed.

"It was those damn, twins I tell you. One of these day's I'll get permission to get those old chains out and then they'll be sorry!" Not a pleasant thought, and he added more to that as I helped him pick up the rest of the armor. Mr. Filch was kind enough to show me the way to class, opposite the way I had been going, and I arrived several minutes before the others. It was quite nice to see the confounded look on Draco's face as he walked in and spotted me already at my seat. To be honest it probably wouldn't have mattered if I hadn't made it to class at all. Professor Binns was so boring that just staying awake was a struggle. That perhaps is the number one reason why ghosts shouldn't be allowed to teach. I actually took to writing my notes backwards just so I would have a reason to stay awake. Some of the other Slytherins found other ways to keep themselves amused, though most involved picking on the Hufflepuffs who took History of magic with us.

I enjoyed Herbology, mostly because it was located in the green houses, but also because, due to mother's uses of plants in her potions, I was already familiar with several specimens and I was fairly sure that learning how to identify new ones would be fairly easy for me. Whether I could managed to keep our new charges alive however, was another matter entirely Professor Sprout did give me five points for being able to tell her about spider flowers. We shared Herbology with the Ravenclaws and despite the fact that Pansy couldn't seem to make herself be polite to Padma Patil, and I thought Michael Corner was a bit of an idiot, we got along fairly well.

We had astronomy on Thursdays at midnight and I knew right away it wasn't going to be my best class. I'm not exactly scared of heights, but they do make me uneasy. I took one look over the edge of the tower and had to force my gaze back to the stars. I hadn't realized we were so high up. The other issue with this class was discovered shortly afterwards. Despite my uneasiness with the height of the tower, I couldn't seem to stay awake.

The other class I had trouble with, though for me it came unexpectedly, was transfiguration. Professor McGonagall may have been the head of Gryffindor, but she was perfectly fair. She gave us a lecture that basically added up to, "no fooling around in my class or your out!" After an extensive list of notes she allowed us to begin attempting to turn a match into a needle. Unfortunately I couldn't even seem to hold my wand properly.

Halfway through the lesson the professor walked over to me and repositioned my hand to the very end of my wand. "There Mr. Zabini, why don't we see if that doesn't work just a little bit better."

Despite my inability at transfiguration I was perfectly good with charms. Professor Flitwick after taking role, began with turning a tiny white Muggle ball yellow. The ball was apparently used in some game that involved hitting it across a table with small round paddles. I managed it in my first try earning ten points.

Defense Against the Dark Arts I found quite interesting, though it was mostly book work, and Professor Quirrell was a bit odd. I saw no reason for the turban he wore, neither practical nor cultural, and however sentimental a gift, some things just should not be worn on a day to day basis.

The lesson I was most looking forward too came on Friday. We were to have potions with the Gryffindors. I had grown up watching mother prepare different droughts, always making brewing look like at art. It was here, if I did well, that I was guaranteed to make her proud. The other reason I enjoyed potions so much was that Mother never told me which one she was making. Instead she would hand me her Guide to Brewing and recited the steps as she did them. I would try to guess which draft it was, by which steps she was taking. It was a game we played often, one of the few times, recently, that we could spend time together without arguing.

The potions dungeons were located quite a bit away from the Slytherin common room, though there was probably a very good reason for that.

Professor Snape took role, and I couldn't help but smile as he quipped about Potter's new found fame. Potter however, didn't seem to think it was funny. In fact he clearly glared at Draco when he laughed allowed.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making . . ." the professor's voice was soft, but it seemed to echo through out the room. " . . . I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death – if you are not as big a batch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." I was very nearly offended at this remark, though I supposed he was actually talking to the Gryffindors.

"Potter!" Professor Snape snapped suddenly, making me jump in my chair. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

"I don't know sir." I groaned inwardly. Those two ingredients created the drought of living death. Granger evidently knew the answer as well because she raised her hand. Professor Snape switched to a different question.

" . . . Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?" That was easy. A goat's stomach. Draco Crabbe and Goyle were shaking with suppressed laughter. Granger's hand rose higher.

"I don't know sir." I put my head in my hands, hoping he'd get the next one just so an end could be put to this humiliation.

Professor Snape chided him for not opening his text before proceeding to the third question. "What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolf's bane?"

"Nothing. They're the same plant." I whispered to myself. Theodore Nott, who I was sitting beside, gave me a surprised look. Potter answered the same as he had the last two times.

"I don't know, I think Hermione does though. Why don't you try her?"

I dropped my head to the desk in disbelief. How could anyone be so thick? It was one thing to admit you didn't know the answer, but to smart back to a professor? That was a surefire way to land in trouble.

Professor Snape did in fact take point, but only after explaining the answers I already knew. He then set us to a boil curing solution, and wandered around the room observing our work.

"Very nice hand, Mr. Zabini." He said stopping by the cauldron Theo and I were working at. I was currently sprinkling powdered newt tail into the solution. "Mr. Nott, those slugs need to be cut a bit smaller though." He then moved over to the cauldron Malfoy was working at. Malfoy had apparently progressed a bit farther then myself and Theo, because the professor called attention to the perfect way Draco had stewed his slugs. I risked a look over at the other cauldron to see what Malfoy had done, and was nearly caught by a tide of potion at Longbottom's cauldron melted. There was something familiar about Longbottom's name, but I didn't dwell on it, choosing instead to jerk my feet out of the way as my shoes started to melt.

Professor Snape sent the boy to the hospital wing and after asking why Potter hadn't said anything about the porcupine quills, class resumed.


	6. Chapter 6

Standard disclaimer does apply.

Firebrand Chronicles

Book One: Behind Closed Doors

Chapter VI

Classes seemed to fly by those first few days of school, at least they did up to the point that the notice for first year flying lessons was found on the board. Malfoy immediately began to spread tales of all his flying accomplishments, including one where he avoided a Muggle helicopter, that was told over and over in attempt to astonish the other students. Theo claimed he'd grown up on a broomstick, and even Pansy would talk about the time she'd barrowed her mother's broom to play Quidditch with the neighbors. Theo at least was modest with his tales, claiming that though he could fly, he'd never learned to do anything fancy.

I conveniently managed to doge any flying related questions aimed at me. I had no wish for my classmates to find out that the last time I'd been on a broom I'd been sick. Heights made me nervous, movement in high placed made me nauseous. Flying was the last thing I wanted to think about. Don't get me wrong, I loved Quidditch, but I was perfectly happy to limit my participation to observing from the ground.

We arrived early for flying lessons. Pansy had perhaps forgotten my fear of heights because she was only encouraging Draco as he recounted the helicopter story yet again.

"So then I dived out of the way . . . What's the matter with you Zabini?" Draco asked noticing my expression. "You alright?"

"Oh don't mid him Draco, He's just nervous." Pansy chirped grabbing hold of my arm and using it as support to jump over a mud puddle.

"Nervous? About Flying? Really Zabini, I thought you were a Pureblood."

"I am," I muttered, "but blood won't help me if I fall."

I was saved from having to hear Draco's reply by the Gryffindors who had just shown up. Longbottom looked just as ill as I felt. If he wasn't such an idiot I might have felt sorry for him, but I was still rather annoyed at having to purchase a new pair of shoes.

Madam Hooch was definitely a no nonsense sort of witch. Everyone very quickly followed her directions, though it took me several tries to get my broom to cooperate. Of the Slytherins Draco and Theo seemed to have the least amount of trouble. When it came time to mount my broom I did so, trying to pretend it was only a different breed of horse. Longbottom took off early and I watched astonished as he flew higher and higher, though I looked away when he fell. The sound of the thud he made when he hit the ground was more then enough for me. I was ready to walk away right then, but strangely enough Tracey Davis touched my arm before I even had a chance to move. I stayed. She looked pale as she watched Madam Hooch escorting Longbottom away, muttering about a broken wrist.

"You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say Quidditch." Tracey and I immediately dropped the brooms we were holding.

"Did you see his face the great lump?" Malfoy asked the moment Hooch was gone.

"Shut up, Malfoy." Parvati Patil snapped. It was the first time I had heard anyone tell Malfoy anything.

"Ohh, sticking up for Longbottom?" Pansy stepped forward. I grinned in anticipation of the argument. Pansy could be incredibly amusing when she got going, though at times I did wonder if she had any compassion.

"Never thought you'd like fat little cry babies, Parvati." Talk about kicking a man when he's down, Longbottom wasn't even there to defend himself. Not that he was likely too, I reflected, not by anything I'd ever seen.

Patil started forward angrily, but Draco got between her and Pansy, though his intention was only to pick up something from the ground. It was a remembrall. Potter demanded that Malfoy hand in over Malfoy refused stating that he was going to leave it in a tree. I laughed. The very thought of Longbottpm attempting to climb a tree was highly amusing.

"Give it here!" Potter yelled, but Malfoy had already grabbed a broom and launched into the air. I had to admit, he was good, really good.

"Come and get it, Potter!" he shouted, and I felt a grin spread across my face. Draco had done something strategically brilliant. Potter, being Muggle raised, had no experience whatsoever on a broom. Draco had quite literally taken the higher ground, and given himself every advantage.

What no one had anticipated was that Potter would know what he was doing. Ignoring Granger's protest He grabbed his own broom and launched after Malfoy. Unfortunately for Draco, Potter was better. They were too high up for us to hear anything they said as they floated facing each other. Suddenly Potter shot forwards and Draco just barley managed to roll out of the way. The excitement of watching and aerial battle fight had caught the attention of every student there. Pansy and Patil had stopped arguing and were both staring at the sky mouths agape.

"Oh I can't watch!" Tracey moaned grabbing my arm and burying her face in my shoulder. "I don't care who it is, I don't want to see anyone else get hurt!" I couldn't tear my eyes away. Potter turned sharply to face Malfoy again and several kids clapped. The red haired Weasley kid whistled.

"Catch it if you can then!" we suddenly heard Malfoy shout as he chucked the remembrall away from himself and then flew down to land. Draco was laughing as he touched down, but he stopped in shock as he realized that Potter was indeed going to try for a catch. He managed it, just in time to get caught by Professor McGonagall as she raced across the grounds face livid.

Malfoy was practically crowing with triumph and McGonagall escorted the other boy away. It was Potter's own fault whatever happened. He had chosen to get on that broom.

Madam Hooch came back a few minutes later. "Well that makes for an interesting morning. Alright then, back to lessons." She surveyed the class and frowned. "Wait a moment, where's Potter?"

"Professor McGonagall caught him on a broom." I answered before anyone else could open their mouths. It was the simple truth, and Hooch didn't ask any more questions. She simply furrowed her brow a bit before walking to her earlier position.

"Mount your brooms."

I made it through flying practice in one piece. Whether I could make it through transfiguration, I wasn't so sure. A long while after dinner Tracey, Theo, and I were sitting in the common room working on our homework. Theo, being absolutely no help what so ever, was attempting to dissuade Bandit from playing with his shoelaces. I had suggested he tie them, but Theo seemed to want to deal with things his own way.

Tracy was trying to talk me through turning a needle into a match. (The reverse of what we had started with.) Once I managed to do something once I had the trick of it. It was finding the trick that was proving to be the problem. Tracey sighed as she watched me work.

"I'm sorry, Blaise, but you're impossible. Why don't we work on the essay for a while?" I nodded, set my wand aside on the table, and opened my book. Bandit however had other ideas.

She leapt up onto the table, snatched my wand up in her mouth, and streaked for the common room door.

"Don't let her out!" I shouted and several students turned to see what I was yelling about. Seventh year Terence Higgs, the current Slytherin Seeker, even leapt for her but it was too late. Marcus Flint strode in through the main door, school bag over one shoulder, and Bandit streaked out into the halls, still in possession of my wand.

I raced after her completely ignoring the after hours rules. I managed to tail her all the way to the second floor where she leapt onto a bookcase and refused to come down. I was too short to reach her. If I tried to climb, the shelf wouldn't support my weight, and without my wand I couldn't perform any magic.

I could hear Peeves bellowing something about students out of bed on the floor above me. Cursing under my breath I could only redouble my efforts to convince Bandit to come down.

"Well, well, what have we here?" I turned to find myself staring at Filch the caretaker. "First a lot of students running around, and then Peeves, and now I find you. Explain."

"Well you see sir . . . it's my cat."

"Mr. Zabini, I had hoped for better from you!" Professor McGonagall strolled up behind Filch, a severly annoyed look on her face.

"Professor, I'm sorry, I know I'm not supposed to be out, but Bandit took my wand and . . ." I pointed. "Mother would have my hide if I lost it . . ." McGonagall sighed and took out her own wand.

"Don't hurt her!"

"I assure you, Mr. Zabini, your cat will be perfectly fine." She raised her wand and pointed. My wand sailed away from Bandit and into her out stretched hand.

"There you go. I suggest you keep it in a safe place from now on." She started to walk away and then paused. "Oh, and Mr. Zabini, You'll be helping Mr. Flitch tomorrow night with what ever task he sets."

From that point on I took to keeping my wand up my sleeve even going to far as to sew in a pocket for it.


	7. Chapter 7

Standard disclaimer does apply

Firebrand Chronicles

Book One: Behind Closed Doors

Chapter VII

Detention with Filch was actually surprisingly pleasant. I had expected more of his grumbling and complaining about various students mixed with threats on what he would do if he was ever given permission to deal with them his own way. That was not the case. It seems that as my predicament revolved around Bandit's misbehavior, he had seen fit to teach me how to curb such disobedience. It was very like sitting through one of Mother's lectures, but Filch apparently enjoyed talking about cats and as it could have been much worse I didn't complain. I spent several hours helping him polish trophies before I was allowed to return to my common room.

One of Filch's remarks stayed in my head for some time, "It's a pity the animal won't bring you things instead of taking them . . ." I decided to try it. Not surprisingly I had no end of help in this project. No few of my fellow Slytherins had lost personal belongings to the thief, (though everything was returned eventually) and once it was found out what I was attempting, I had no shortage of people offering their help no matter how long it took. Several of these offers of help were coupled with threats as to what would happen to both me and my cat if something went missing again.

Something more interesting came from serving detention with Filch. As I passed the charms corridor on my way back to the common room after detention, t hit me. If students had been here the night before, and if they had escaped from Filch, there was only one way for them to go. The forbidden door and the corridor behind it. Glancing around to make sure there was no chance I'd be caught, I made my way to the area in question, and pressed my ear to the door. I was by no means stupid enough to attempt to get beyond it. If the corridor was forbidden there was a reason, and there was also no telling what traps and spells had been laid to detour curious students. I very quickly learned that my caution had been well founded, because I could hear something growling on the other side. What, I wondered, could be so important that someone would choose to hide it at Hogwarts?

A little over a week later the mail arrived bearing some very interesting things. I looked up to see mother's great barn owl winging his way into the hall with the other owls, and was pleasantly surprised to find he was bringing me a envelope filled with moving photographs Janice had taken of Abby doing all the things a two year old child would do. What was remarkable about the mail delivery that morning was the arrival of a package that looked like it could contain a broom, landing at the Gryffindor table in front of Potter.

"What is that!" Draco hissed poking me in the shoulder.

"looks like a broom." I answered taking a bite of toast.

"First years aren't allowed them . . ."

"'ell thash what it loosh 'ike." I muttered around my full mouth.

Draco only glared at me and got up from the table muttering about finding out for sure. Crabbe and Goyle followed. I ate my toast.

I returned to the common room later that night to discover Draco ranting about Potter's new broom, or rather still ranting about it.

"Imagine, Pet Potter gets away with everything. Special circumstances indeed. McGonagall is just playing favorites. He can't even fly that well!"

I shook my head and sat down next to Theo who was alone in a dark corner.

"He going on about that again?"

"Again? He hasn't stopped all day!" I rolled my eyes and pulled out my potions text, staring on the essay we'd been assigned on Moly flowers and their use in various curing solutions.

My birthday came and went. Among the gifts I received was a new set of robes from home and a case of butterbeer. (The butterbeer was from Bert.) Pansy bought me a collar for Bandit equipped with a locator charm incase the cat got into more trouble. She later admitted to convincing professor Flitwick to do the charm work. Granted Flitwick liked me enough that he didn't need much convincing. Next to Granger, who was an apparent genius in everything, I was top of the class.

Around Halloween Professor Flitwick finally decided we were ready to learn levitation. He had us starting with feathers, though I very quickly progressed to other things. Pansy yelled at me for making my spell books zip around the room. In my personal opinion if she spent more time paying attention to the lesson then gossiping with the other girls about the upcoming feast, Pansy might have been making her books zoom around with me.

The Halloween feast was everything I had ever expected and more. The table was filled with every food I have ever liked, and I was happily filling my plate with raspberries, potatoes, and pot roast, when professor Quirrell rushed into the hall shouting about trolls being in the dungeons before he promptly fainted landing sprawled out on the floor.

"Some defense professor he is." I heard Higgs whisper to one of his friends. "Can't even keep his composure with a simple troll. Pathetic!"

The Great hall erupted into panic. Students ran every which way, screams echoed off the walls, and several students froze completely. The headmaster had to set off several fireworks from the end of his wand before pandemonium died down.

"Prefects, lead your houses to the dormitories immediately." We gathered around our prefects unsure of what to do. Everyone of us had realized the same thing.

"He said the troll was in the dungeons, not where in the dungeons. For all we know it's right out side the common room!" Sirien Wilks hissed at her comrades keeping her voice low so only those nearest her could hear.

"Well we can't stay here." Dan Jorgenson muttered.

"We'll take the hidden library staircase then. After we exit there'll be only the one long corridor we have to worry about, and if it is outside the common room we'll be able to back track without being followed." This came from Darien Borgen, the eldest male of the Slytherin Prefects. "Slytherins, everybody in a double file line, NOW!" we did as we were told and Borgen surveyed those under his charge. "Jorgenson, Wilks, Amare, bring up the rear. Laxline, Hughes, you're point with me." We watched nervously as Seventh year Celia Amare took her position at the rear with the two younger prefects, and Diana Laxline followed Josiah Hughes to the front of the line.

Borgen led us up to the library. Madam Pince glared as we walked in.

"Sorry, emergency." Borgen muttered as we trailed him, earning only another glare. He led us to a bookcase located on the wall behind Pince's desk. He pressed the nose on a bust of St. Andrew the duelist, and the bookcase slid aside revealing a long spiraling staircase in an ill lit passageway behind.

I had somehow managed to be pushed to the front of the line, directly after the prefects. As we made our way down the stairs Theo slipped from his position at the back and made his way to the spot directly behind me. The other students let him. No one wanted to be in front if there was a possibility of encountering a troll.

"I saw Potter and the Weasley kid slip away from the Gryffindors. Wonder where they went." He muttered.

My answer was simple. "Don't know, Don't care," I hissed. "If they want to get themselves killed it's their own affair."

We made it to the common room in one piece without incident. The feast was waiting for us and as I had not managed to finish my dinner earlier, I was among the first to dive in. The troll was forgotten until the next morning when it was learned that Potter and his little team had taken it on in the girl's bathroom. The location didn't add up to what Quirrell had said, but it did match another location. What if the Troll had escaped from the forbidden corridor? I managed to check one day after class, but when I pressed my ear to the door the growling was still there.

What were they hiding behind that door? A magical text? Money? Some family heirloom? A ridiculous thought occurred to me as I remembered a copy of the daily prophet I had read during the summer. Perhaps they were guarding the contents of the Gringotts vault that had been broken into. I was tempted to try unlocking the door and take a peek, but I was too smart for that. If by some chance I was able to open it, what ever was on the other side sounded as if it would snap my head off.

Quidditch season approached rapidly and foremost in most students' conversation was the fact that Harry Potter, a first year, had gained the position of Gryffindor Seeker. In fact the hype about how good he supposedly was and how well he was expected to play grew so much every day, that I was prompted after class to shout after him, "Hey, Potter, good luck it the Quidditch match. I'll have a net ready in case you fall." Marcus Flint roared with laughter and clapped me on the shoulder as he walked by. Later he and Terence Higgs went so far as to create their own version of the joke, pantomiming carrying a mattress every time they saw Potter.

It wasn't as if the Gryffindors didn't do the same thing whenever they saw our team members. Implying that Flint was so stupid he'd throw the Quaffle through the wrong goal or that Higgs was so dense he wouldn't know the Snitch if it sat on top of his head was the norm for them.

The game finally came and it was a spectacular match. Nearly on par with the lesser teams of the professional leagues, or it was until Potter started showing off. At least I thought he was showing off as he did several sharp turns in a row. He had after all done several loops when the Gryffindors had scored, but then it became apparent that Potter was not in control of his own broom. I looked away watching him was making me feel nauseous.

Unwilling to watch Potter I scanned the field with my omnioculars wondering if one of the Bludgers had done something. The crown gasped and I looked back at Potter who was hanging by one hand, the Weasley twins circling below. I looked at the Slytherin team wondering what they would do, just in time to see Flint take the Quaffle and score several times without opposition. It was a compassionless move, but at the same time a clever strategy. And it wasn't precisely against any rules.

The crowed gasped again and I looked back at Potter just in time to see him climb back onto his broom and soar straight for the ground. It took me a moment to realize what had happened. For a few seconds I though he was going to be sick. He certainly looked like it as his shoulders heaved a bit. It was also a perfectly reasonable reaction after all that bucking about. Seconds latter he coughed up the Snitch.

Flint of course was absolutely furious, as well as the rest of the Slytherin team. Understandably so. Who had ever heard of the snitch being swallowed? Flint roared that the game hadn't been fair. I refrained from pointing out that if he had managed to score a few more goals while he had the chance, we would have won and the Gryffindors would be the ones crying foul. But everybody, with the exception of Flint, had been so busy watching Potter that they had forgotten to play. All Flint wanted was another chance. Madam Hooch would hear none of it.


	8. Chapter 8

Standard disclaimer does apply

Firebrand Chronicles

Book One: Behind Closed Doors

Chapter VIII

Classes continued quite well for me with the exception of astronomy and transfiguration. One I couldn't get the hang of, and the other I didn't try. Professor Sinistra pronounced me hopeless after the fifth time she found me asleep in her class, and told me that if it happened again she'd deduct thirty points. It also didn't help that I still refused to get anywhere near the edge of the tower.

After that I did manage to stay awake, barely. Tracey and Theo took to jabbing with whatever was on hand if it looked like I was about to drop off. Pansy would jabber at me when it looked like Sinistra wasn't looking, and Malfoy even tried looking up spells to keep me awake. Even Crabbe and Goyle had an opinion. Crabbe tried to shove a vomit flavored Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean down my throat. No one wanted to loose points because of me. I didn't either for that matter. Surprisingly it was Crabbe's idea that worked the best. Unfortunately it was a vile way to stay awake.

McGonagall was easier on me. Perhaps because I was actually trying. I struggled so much with the Avaforce spell that she actually called me into her office one morning to work it out.

"Mr. Zabini, with the trouble you've been having I'm surprised you're making it through my class at all."

"If Theo wasn't helping me I'm not sure I would be, in all honesty, Professor."

"Yes, I thought some one was helping you. Though Mr. Nott was not my first choice seeing as he's only middling himself. Perhaps Hermione Granger?" the look on my face must have spoken volumes because McGonagall studied me for a moment before going on. "Perhaps not then. The most remarkable thing about you, Mr. Zabini, is that once you've learned a spell you seem to have it. It's the learning that's causing you difficulties. Am I correct?"

"For the most part Professor." She was making it sound so much easier then it actually was. When I preformed things correctly I was working from the memory of what I had done the first time I got it right. If I forgot, I had to struggle to learn the whole thing over again. For once I was almost glad of the training Brian had started. He had been strict about not making the same mistake twice.

"And you're sure you don't want me to find a better student then Mr. Nott to help you? Perhaps one of the upper classmen?" McGonagall continued ignoring my half answer.

"Professor, it's bad enough that my classmates know how much trouble I've been having . . . I am passing right?"

"Slowly, Mr. Zabini," she sighed, "but yes you are passing."

"Then I would prefer to do this myself, for now."

"Very well then, but the offer stands."

"I understand."

"Professor Flitwick tells me you have an extraordinary aptitude for charms. I would like to discus this with him. Perhaps he can think of a solution I have not."

"Alright, Professor."

"I believe it is almost time for your Defense against the Dark Arts Lesson. You may go."

"Thank you, Professor."

The following DADA class proved to be the most interesting Quirrell had so far taught. Though that wasn't saying much. Despite my interest in the subject, the lessons had proved to be rather boring.

"We h-have so far l-learned the leg l-locker curse and t-the body b-bind as well as s-several others. T-today I will t-teach you the kn-knock back jinx F-Flipindo. T-then if everybody has g-gotten it, we will p-practice on these." He gestured at a large wooden crate. "J-just ordinary garden gnomes. D-don't w-ant anybody in the hospital w-wing."

It was quite fun chasing garden gnomes all over the classroom, shouting incantations and trying to hit a moving target. It was also a good chance to practice the counter curses as Professor Quirrell refused to reanimate anyone's gnome.

"R-remember these are o-only to b-be used defensively!" he shouted over the noise at one point. I have often wondered if he actually expected us to listen to that advice.

Christmas seemed to come slowly that year. So absorbed was I with my classes that I almost didn't notice the change of the school atmosphere. Though I did notice Potter and his friends spending a lot of time in the library whispering when they thought nobody was looking. It was near impossible to find quiet a corner to study the history of the 1732 vampire treaty without seeing them rummaging through the stacks. Malfoy also noticed their odd behavior, and began sneaking around trying to get them into trouble. Theo tried to dissuade him from it, calling it "pointless," and reminding Draco that if he was caught sneaking after them he would only look like he was the one up to something. I couldn't care less one way or the other. Quite frankly unless someone was in Slytherin, Malfoy seemed to think they had a giant target painted on their forehead, and it was about time he didn't get his way. I was quite a bit more successful the Draco at finding out what the Potter group was up to. Though it my case it was more accident then planning.

Ever since discovering the growling behind the door in the third floor corridor and determining that whoever had escaped Filch that night knew what it was, I had hoped to find out myself. I had also come to the reasonable conclusion, from watching them in the library, that Potter's group's odd behavior might also be connected to the door.

The door was the furthest thing from my mind the day before we went home for the holidays. I had wandered into the Great Hall after potions class, and the first words out of my mouth were . . .

"Bloody Brilliant!"

"You think so, Mr. Zabini?" Professor Flitwick piped after obviously overhearing me. "Would you like to help?"

"Would I!" the hall was fantastic. Holly and mistletoe were every where and twelve trees stood beautify decorated, each different.

"Come over here." Flitwick led me to the nearest tree. I barely noticed the grounds keeper talking to Potter and his friends nearby. Professor Flitwick demonstrated a wand movement and correct pronunciation of the spell. It took me several tries, but soon golden bubbles were blossoming out of the tip of my wand.

"Oh, Bravo." Professor Flitwick congratulated me. I beamed with the praise. The professor and I went opposite ways around the tree and it was then that I overheard what Hagrid was saying.

"It's nothing to you what that dog's guarding."

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all."

That's all I needed to hear as I moved around the tree brain racing. The beast behind the door was some sort of monster dog. Hagrid's by the sound of it. It was guarding something, and someone by the name of Nicolas Flamel was involved. Potter and his friends were apparently trying to find out who he was, and by the sound of it were having no luck in the school library. I however, had several books at home I thought might contain the answer.

I spent the rest of my half hour before lunch helping Professor Flitwick spread bubbles around the Hall. I even managed to convince him to tell me some stories from his dueling days.

The next day I, and the other students who were returning home for the holidays boarded the Hogwarts express and traveled the bay back to platform 93/4.

Janice picked me up at the station Abby in hr arms. I had donned my Muggle clothing for the ride to Diagon Alley, but rather then going strait home, she had me flew to the village instead. It seemed she had promised Abby something called story time at the Muggle library.

"I know you're uncomfortable in those," she muttered after asking the landlord of the wizarding inn we'd flewed to if he could hold my luggage for a while. "But do you think you can last an hour more?"

I nodded a bit disappointed. I had wanted to go home and go through the family library, but a promise to Abby was a promise to Abby. Besides, I told myself. This might be interesting.


	9. Chapter 9

Standard disclaimer does apply

Firebrand Chronicles

Book One: Behind Closed Doors

Chapter IX

The Muggle library was considerably smaller then the one located at Hogwarts, but it seemed to be stocked just as full. The main room was filled with dark wooded shelves that stretched to the ceiling.

An adjoining room contained smaller shelves that had been painted white. Various multi colored books were displayed across the top of the shelves and there were pillows scattered across the floor. It was in here Janice took Abby, nodding at the smiling woman by the door who was holding a book with a picture of a large caterpillar on the cover.

"You're welcome to join us," she said as I peered through the doorway.

"I'll just look about a bit." She nodded and I moved away from her past the circulation desk and towards the back of the main library.

I strolled though the shelves simply astounded by some of the things Muggles chose to write. My eye was caught by such titles as The Time Machine, and The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, not to mention Egyptian Codes and The Monster of Lock Ness. The last puzzled me. Did the Muggles not know that the creature of Lock Ness was a kelpie? I reached for the book to find out, but before I could pull it from the shelf a voice spoke behind me.

"Can I help you?" I turned. There stood an old Muggle woman with flyaway grey hair sticking out of the bun on the back of her head.

"No I was just . . ." I don't know why I did what I did what I did next, but as a stray thought flickered across my mind I changed my sentence in mid word. "You don't know anything about Nicholas Flamel do you?"

Flamel? The supposed fifteenth century French alchemist, who claimed to have turned lead into gold? If you believe that sort of thing. I believe I do have something about him somewhere. Follow me."

She lead me to a section labeled "Nonfiction: History" and pulled several books of the self. She scanned the first pages of several before putting them back on the shelf. The fourth she pulled from the shelf was flipped through for several minutes before she found a page near the middle and handed me the tome.

"Be sure to let me know if you need anything else." She said to me before walking away and returning to her post at the circulation desk. I looked at the book in my hands surprised that Flamel would be known in the Muggle world at all, never mind two entire pages on him. I scanned the pages looking for any information that might tell me in what way he was related to the third floor corridor.

**Nicholas Flamel, a Parisian book seller in a stall located near the cathedral of St. Jaques la Bouderie. **

**It is reported that Flamel had a dream in which an angle appeared to him and offered him a book bound in fine bark and copper, saying to him "look and remember. Though now neither you nor any other will understand, one day you will be able to see in it that which no other can see." **

**Flamel woke from the dream and soon after saw the book in the waking world. A poor man met him on the streets and desperate for money asked him to buy the tome. Recognizing the binding as that from his dream, Flamel obliged the poor man and made the purchase. **

**Flamel later discovered that the book was written in both Greek and Egyptian, and that the original author was a Levite priest, astrologer, and philosopher who styled himself Abraham the Jew. (not the biblical Abraham, but of the same name) the rest of the writing was of an unknown origin. Flamel felt that not only because of his dream, but due to his own intuition, that the book might contain the very secrets of life.**

**It took him over twenty-one years to decipher, though only after he learned that the unknown text was ancient Hebrew. Flamel later moved to Leon where he enlisted the help of Maestro Canches. The two of them worked together for a translation, and eventually learned the books secrets.**

**Returning to Paris changed for the better; Flamel managed his final translation and reportedly managed to create the philosopher's stone (in some cases rumored to be a powder.) It was also claimed that Flamel had discovered how to turn base mettles into gold. True orf not Flamel did come into a great deal of wealth at this time making several very generous donations to create housing for the poor and several free hospitals. **

There was more about Flamel's marriage, as well as a supposed conspiracy that he and his wife had faked their deaths and moved to India. But I didn't need that information. From what I'd read, if the Muggle book was right, I now knew what was hidden behind that door. And if the book was right, I knew just the person to confirm it. That was if I could get mother away from Milord for any length of time.

I did manage it about two weeks into the break. Mother was brewing some pepper up potion in the kitchen, and I was helping Bert with some cookies, though eating the dough probably doesn't count as being of any help.

"Mother, do you know Nicholas Flamel?" I asked swallowing my mouthful.

She looked at me slightly surprised. "I know of him certainly, why?"

"I read about him somewhere and was wondering if the stone really turned things into gold."

"Base mettles, but the most prized thing about that stone is its use in the creation of the elixir of life. " I had my answer.

As slow as the holidays had arrived, they went by fairly quickly. I spent much of my time playing with Abby, and avoided Milord.

The Parkinson's hosted a Christmas Party which included the Malfoys for some reason, as well as half the Ministry. It was quite fun to watch Draco pull a cracker with Cornelius Fudge. The Minister of Magic had accepted the Parkinson's invitations, though personally I think it had something to do with his business relationship with Mr. Malfoy. The two men spent quite a bit of time talking in low voices where no one could over hear.

Anyway the cracker contained two hats, a dozen mice, and a tea cup that turned into a rat on command. Fudge took the better of the two hats, a black bowler, and put in on leaving Draco with what looked like a purple feathered Gibson Girl's hat. I knew they'd been popular in the 1900's, but I couldn't imagine why a woman would want to wear such an outlandish thing, much less what Draco was supposed to do with it. Draco was more inventive then I, because as Pansy chose that moment to walk by, he carefully slipped the hat onto her head earning one of her winning smiles and an approving nod from Fudge.

Perhaps the highlight of my night was when Fudge complemented the house elves on their decorations. Pansy, overhearing the comment, smirked.

"Blaise might not take too kindly to having his handy work compared to a house elf's."

"Mr. Zabini!" he said grabbing my arm. For a moment I thought I was in trouble, being in potential violation of the restriction for underage wizardry.

"I was supervised sir," I assured him. "And as this is the Parkinson's house, there are no Muggles nearby."

"No, no. you're not in trouble, not tonight anyway. It is Christmas Eve after all. I just wanted to tell you how much I appreciate your work." He gestured at the tree that was covered in golden bubbles. I had taken the opportunity to practice the charm Professor Flitwick had taught me. I started to tell him so.

"Professor Flitwick . . ."

"I always did like him, wonderful professor. Keep listening to him my boy. Lucius did you see . . ." The minister of Magic walked off to speak with Mr. Malfoy, and Pansy and I shared a look.

"He's on his fourth glass of champagne." She muttered before popping a chocolate covered strawberry in her mouth and walking off. I was extremely relieved. And Then I realized I could now boast that the minister of Magic himself had admired my charm work. That should top any of Draco's new my father," stories, at least for a while. With a huge grin I walked off in search of a glass of eggnog.


	10. Chapter 10

Standard disclaimer does apply

Firebrand Chronicles

Book One: Behind Closed Doors

Chapter X

Term started much the way it had before Christmas, though this time I was better equipped for them. I had told Mother about my problems in transfiguration and astronomy. She had no idea about what to do for transfiguration, turns out that had been her worst subject as well. She did, however, have a way to keep me awake during astronomy. A green, slimy looking potion she called tonic.

"Take NO MORE then one mouthful before class. It'll keep you wide awake for at least two hours. DON'T add anything to it. Adding ingredients will either counter act the effect and send you straight to sleep, or possibly make you sick to your stomach and land you in the hospital wing for a week. Blaise, I do not want to be charged with poisoning my son, and if I find you have landed your self in the hospital wing because you decided to make this taste better . . . ." she left the threat unfinished, making me think that though she didn't yet know what she'd do to me, by the time I found out I'd wish I had never even been born.

The stuff did taste vile, not quite as bad as some of the every flavor beans I'd been swallowing, but nasty all the same. I still hoped for something better tasting, but as the tonic did its job I shouldn't complain. I improved a bit in astronomy, probably because I was better able to pay attention, but I'm convinced that professor Sinistra thought I was odd because I still avoided the edges of the tower.

The Hufflepuff verses Gryffindor match arrived and people in the halls began whispering about Slytherin house taking an unfair advantage. As Slytherin wasn't playing I failed to see the complaint. Our head of house had simply offered to referee. No one heard the Slytherins complaining. Of course after the match nobody else could complain either.

Potter set what had to be a record for the fastest catch of the Snitch, and Gryffindor over took Slytherin in the standings for the finales. Added to the school gossip was the fact that Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had all ended up in the hospital wing following the match. Apparently both Weasley and Longbottom had decided they had had enough of Malfoy's mouth. Maybe Longbottom did have some guts after all.

In addition to the Gryffindors overtaking us in Quidditch, the teachers started giving extra home work. It seemed that with the Easter holidays drawing closer final exams were also drawing closer, so they piled on all the work they hoped us to accomplish by the end of term. In a way this was good because it distracted me from the door on the third floor corridor, though I did notice Potter's gang started being abnormally nice to professor Quirrell. I knew why, I'd learned that little secret about an hour after the Quidditch match.

I had avoided the common room in order to avoid being dragging into conversations about the Gryffindor lead, or Malfoy's beating. Instead I was wandering around the school looking for something to do, or even just something mildly entertaining. I passed what I had thought was an empty classroom, but was surprised to hear Potter's voice. He wasn't being nearly as quiet as he thought he was, and when I heard what he was saying I drew closer to the door to find out the details.

"I reckon there or other things guarding the stone apart from fluffy, loads of enchantments probably, and Quirrell would have done some anti dark arts spell that Snape needs to break through . . ."

"So you mean the stones only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" Granger's voice was highly alarmed.

Weasley was next "It'll be gone by next Tuesday."

I moved away from the door highly confused. That there were other enchantments had occurred to me, it was the logical conclusion, though I had not dwelt on the idea, having no intention to actually go through the door myself. No, what troubled me was the very idea that Professor Snape might try to steal it. The idea that Quirrell might know a spell that Snape did not. Most of the Slytherins knew that Snape had once tried for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. The information wasn't exactly publicized, but it was the sort of information one picked up when the man was the head of your house. Professor Snape wasn't the sort to try what he couldn't accomplish. He wouldn't have tried if he wasn't qualified, not multiple times. If the professor wanted the stone I was sure he could get it with out Quirrell.

Potter must have been mistaken. I dwelt on an off the subject as time passed and the homework increased. As to how Professor Snape was involved, I got my a answer several weeks later.

It was late afternoon and Draco had come into the common room absolutely pleased with himself, though he would say nothing to anybody about what was making him so happy. I however was extremely frustrated as I was currently having problems with the homework Quirrell had assigned. I had never been very good a drawing diagrams (part of my astronomy problem,) and the Doxy was more complicated then a garden gnome. I couldn't for the life of me remember if it was just the Doxy's bite that was toxic, or if it's claws were toxic as well. Deciding that Draco's good mood was not going to help me at all (he had sat down across from me smirking, almost daring me to ask,) I decided to go find the professor and ask.

A blond Ravenclaw prefect, clear-something-or-other, told me Quirrell was in his class room. I made my way there, but just as I was about to knock I heard voices arguing.

"Well have you made up your mind?"

"I – I don't know w-what you mean S-Severus."

"I'm tired of this Quirrell."

"S-Severus I . . ."

"Don't lie to me, you are not worthy of that stone. If I find you have attempted to break security . . ."

"I've t-told you I d-don't know what you're t-talking about."

"So be it."

I should have moved. I knew that, but I just stood there frozen one hand raised to knock diagram in the other. All I could think of was that even though Potter had been close, he had the whole situation backwards.

The door opened. My dark face must have been extremely pale, because professor Snape didn't yell at me for eavesdropping. He simply grabbed my shoulder and steered me away in silence.

"I don't think he saw you, I'd like to keep it that way." he muttered after while before falling silent and leading me down to his office.

His office was rather dark and bottles of pickling potions and ingredients were sitting everywhere. Professor Snape sat me in a chair facing his desk, but instead of sitting at the desk himself, he pulled his own chair around the front closer to my own in a much more informal setting, before sitting down himself. I took a deep breath and tried not to tense up. If he was talking to me like this, I probably wasn't in as much trouble as I thought.

"How much did you hear?" I opened my mouth and closed it again unsure of where to begin.

"Let me rephrase that. How much did you reason out."

"How much do I know for sure?" I started. "Gringotts vault Seven thirteen belonged to either Hogwarts or Nicholas Flamel. The object inside was removed to the third floor corridor." Professor Snape muttered something about silencing charms, but I continued. "From what I just heard Professor Quirrell wants to steal it. As for what the object itself is, I can only guess. I believe it's Nicholas Flamel's philosopher's stone. The stone that creates the elixir of life. I also believe that the creature behind the door is some sort of dog . . . I over heard the last part from a conversation between Potter and the groundskeeper, his name's Hagrid right?"

Professor Snape only muttered that he'd suspected they'd figured it out. I didn't think I was supposed to overhear, but the comment did explain a great deal of the professor's dislike of Potter. Oh Potter had his faults, for example he enjoyed the attention others often gave him he greatly over estimated his own abilities, and he ignored others when he didn't like the subject of conversation. So what if someone asked him about his scar, he could at least be polite enough to tell then he didn't like it when they stared, instead of walking past as if they didn't exist. He also relied a great deal too much on Granger's abilities which were not perfect despite the number of spells she could perform. All of this notwithstanding Professor Snape's dislike now seemed to take on a whole new meaning. He was keeping Potter busy, and away from that door, as well as away from things that were too big for him, and too big for me at that matter.

"I trust you have told this to no one else?"

"No sir." I paused. "Sir, shouldn't the Headmaster . . ."

"He knows." His black eyes pierced mine and I squirmed uncomfortably in the short laps of silence that followed.

"Do you mind telling me, Mr. Zabini, why you wanted to se Quirrell?"

I handed him my paper. "I'm terrible with diagrams sir. I can't draw. I hoped he might have time to help me."

"I have heard that you are also having trouble with astronomy and transfiguration." He said smoothly taking the page.

"Yes sir. Though I think I've solved the astronomy thing. I couldn't stay awake, so I talked with Mother and she gave me something she calls tonic."

"Acid green, looks like slime?" he was holding my diagram close to him nose as he spoke.

"Yes, sr."

"The drought of wakefulness. Aurors sometimes use it on stake outs. Not precisely illegal, but it can become habit forming. I trust you are following all her directions?"

"One spoonful no more. I wouldn't make it a habit sr. the stuff is vile. Pansy has to remind me to take it half the time.

"Still, better the vomit flavored bean." My eyes widened. How had he known that?

"Do yourself a favor Mr. Zabini and find yourself a different solution. I'll let you experiment, but ask me if you're unsure of a solutions side effects."

"Yes, Sr."

"And Transfiguration?" he was holding my diagram upside down now.

"Professor McGonagall offered to find me a tutor," he raised an eyebrow, "but I would rather not advertise my failures across the school, and I am passing."

"By the skin of your neck as I hear it." He handed the diagram back. "This is very good Mr. Zabini. But the bite only is toxic and you forgot the wigs. And please label everything in the same direction. I do not think Quirrell will be happy with you if he has to turn your diagram in circles in order to read it."

"Thank you, professor."

"And please, come to me if you have any further questions." I got the feeling he wasn't talking about my class work.

A week later I finally found out what Draco had been smiling about. He had been found in the corridor after hours and fined twenty points for some story about Potter and a dragon. He insisted it was true. Unfortunately for the Gryffindors Potter, Weasley, Granger, and Longbottom had also been found out at night. Together they had lost one-hundred-fifty points putting Slytherin once again in the lead for the house cup.


	11. Chapter 11

Standard disclaimer does apply

Firebrand Chronicles

Book One: Behind Closed Doors

Chapter XI

I must say the lose of one-hundred-fifty points had a way of subduing the Gryffindors. Not only were they less obnoxious now that they no longer had any chance of winning the cup, but Potter was no longer their hero. No matter what fame he might posses for a sheer accident of his childhood, (no matter that said accident had improved the lives of many) he now got a taste of what the rest of us had every day, being unnoticeable. Nat at all unenjoyable, personally I wouldn't have wanted everybody staring at me every where I went.

The loss of the points even subdued Granger. Little miss know-it-all stopped trying to draw attention to the fact that she supposedly knew everything and finally gave the rest of us a chance. Not that I had a problem as my only current class with the Gryffindors was potions; flying lesions having ended with the arrival of winter weather. I had, however, overheard Susan Bones commenting that it was nice when Granger was quiet because it had allowed her to earn five points in herbology. I especially enjoyed that lack of distractions in potions, as Granger no longer jumped out of her seat every time Professor Snape asked a question.

"Today we will brew the wiggle weed potion." Professor Snape strolled around the room looking at each of us. "Can anyone tell me the proper formula?" I lifted my hand into the air. Wiggleweed potion was a basic antidote and Mother always had some on hand to use on gnome bites.

Granger, who was sitting at the table in front of me, stared at her cauldron obviously struggling with not wanting to answer.

"Mr. Zabini?"

"Take a infusion of wormwood and Dittany, combine with a pint of flubberworm mucus and powdered wiggentree bark."

"Very good Mr. Zabini. Open your books to page one-hundred-twenty-seven, the exact instructions will be there. This is a difficult potion to mess up Mr. Longbottom. I trust yours will be somewhat useful this time."

About a week before exams Draco was called on to serve the detention he received the night he'd been out after hours. "Well I'm off to copy lines." He said making his way to the common room door around eleven.

"Copy lines?" I asked standing up and following after him. "Draco I don't think . . ." but he was gone. My own detention earlier that year had been spent polishing trophies, and I had a decent reason for breaking curfew. I resolved to wait up for him. Pansy decided to keep me company. We played wizard's chess and random card games well into the night. At least until she fell asleep in her chair.

It was then that I decided that not being quite ready to sleep myself I would do a bit of reading. After seeing how well I was progressing in Charms and after seeing how much I enjoyed the subject, Professor Flitwick had given me a book on interesting simple tricks that most wizards didn't even think about. I had learned several of them already and found them quite useful. (One trick being how to mark perfect margins on a piece of parchment without leaving any permanent lines or creases) flipping through the pages I spotted one that I though might be interesting. It was called Asendere and while it was very similar to _**Wingardium Leviosa **_the hovering object would follow the movements of the wand. Knowing Bandit loved to chase things when she wasn't stealing I decided that this one might be worth learning. Theo appeared briefly, rubbing the sleep from his face and asking what I was still doing up. I explained and he simply rolled his eyes.

"He's the one that got caught, no reason it should affect the rest of us." He muttered before going back to bed. Bandit appeared, I assumed she had followed Theo out of the dorm, and climbed up into my lap. I scratched her ears as I continued to study the charm.

I awoke to a crash as a very pale Draco entered the common room. "You alright?" I yawned sitting up. He made his way over and sat in an unoccupied chair.

"Where're Crabbe and Goyle?"

"Bed."

"At least Pansy tried to wait." He glanced over at the chair where she was curled up still asleep.

"So?" I said softly, trying to shift positions without dislodging Bandit. "Did you have to copy lines?"

"Did you stay up just to bait me, Zabini?"

"I knew you'd been doing something else, I wanted to make sure you made it back in one piece."

"Thank you _so_ much for your concern."

"Cut the sarcasm."

"Sent us into the forest to look for a hurt unicorn. Started out partnered to Longbottom. Thought it'd be funny to sneak up behind him, and boy did he jump."

I laughed as Draco did an imitation of Longbottom jumping into the air and trying to use his wand at the same time.

"That oaf Hagrid made us change partners after that. Ended up with Potter. Well we found the unicorn . . . there . . . there was something . . . drinking its blood."

"_What_?" I sat forward not caring if bandit fell to the floor.

He shrugged. "Not like could do anything to stop it, beside potter was too stupid to run, Dumbledore probably knows by now." that was something of a relief, if Dumbledore knew already I wouldn't have to convince Draco to go tell him what he saw.

"Still. . ."

"Anyway I got lost, wandered around the forest a while till I found my way back to the path."

By the next morning Draco had faced a full grown werewolf in the forest and the unicorn had dropped out of the story altogether. Not that I minded. Just thinking about someone drinking unicorn's blood was enough to send a chill down my spine. Who could ever be that desperate?

"So there it was, growling at me, teeth dripping with saliva . . ." Pansy was handing on every word, and several older students were looking at him with awe. I returned to my transfiguration attempting to finish it before breakfast. I couldn't concentrate. My dreams last night had been terrible, but they had also done something I hadn't been able to do while awake. They had linked Quirrell to Draco's dead unicorn. Now that I was awake it made a strange sort of since. It seemed that Quirrell wanted the stone for the elixir of life. Unicorn's blood could extend life like the elixir was supposed to do, but drinking a unicorn's blood cursed the offending wizard for all eternity. But why would Quirrell do it? Did he have some sort of incurable illness? I didn't even know it had been him for sure, and I wasn't going to get myself killed just to find out.

The week of exams came quickly after that. We were given anti cheating quills for the written portion of the exams, not that I was surprised, it was logical. I passed the written potions with flying colors, the one exception being astronomy. The test contained several star charts and diagrams which had been covered on days which I had been either less then awake, or paying more attention the edge of the tower then the lecture. I even did well with the written transfiguration exam. It seems my block was limited to the magical aspect alone.

I even managed to pass the practical potion of the transfiguration exam, somehow. I successfully turned my mouse into a snuff box. It was plain and unornamented, but it lacked the addition of whiskers or a tail, Goyle's had both. Charms of course was a breeze. Professor Flitwick loved my pineapple's rendition of Otelius's Griddylow tap.

"Otelius received five curtain calls and three encore presentations after he first preformed as an opening act for the Dragarian Chamber Orchestra." He informed me before I left the room. Pansy called me a show off after she heard about my pineapple, and promptly refused to discus any of the exam questions. Much to my surprise, as I passed professor Flitwick in the corridor that I had gotten a hundred-ten percent.

Potions went rather well. Professor Snape way have gone overboard in walking around the room to constantly check out progress, but he was the Head of Slytherin house, and as he did regularly speak to us in the corridor, I unlike many of the so called braver Gryffindors remained thoroughly relaxed throughout the whole of the exam. Well perhaps not thoroughly relaxed, it was an exam after all.

The history of magic exam was much more enjoyable then the class itself. Perhaps because I didn't have to listen to a dry, old, dead man drone on and on in a voice that could quite easily put his students to sleep. I rather enjoyed the peace and quiet. It allowed me to actually think as I raked my mind for the proper answers.

I was rather disappointed when Quirrell's exam was entirely written and not practical at all. I'd been hoping for another chance to chase around garden gnomes.

Once the exams were done we were free to relax. Malfoy was free to take an opportunity to trail Potter. Much to my annoyance he dragged me with him.


	12. Chapter 12

Standard disclaimer does apply

Firebrand Chronicles

Book One: Behind Closed Doors

Chapter XII

We were out by the lake. Pansy and Tracey had their shoes off and were wading in the shallows. Crabbe and Goyle were playing gobstones. Theo was off alone with a book. I could see him sitting under a tree, but he was too far away to talk to. Draco, who was sitting close by, was tossing rocks into the lake.

"Are you still studying?" ha asked noticing the papers in my hands. "Exams are over you know."

"I'm just deciding which of these I should keep." I answered looking at the notes in front of me. I filed my Astronomy, Transfiguration, and History of Magic notes away in my bag for latter. The rest I set fire too with a simple charm, watching as the ashes flew from my fingers in a slight breeze. Draco watched for a moment and the suddenly sat up straight.

"Hold on, where are they going?" I looked where he was pointing. Potter and his friends were running from the grounds keeper's hut towards the castle.

"Does it matter?" I muttered lying back in the grass.

He ignored me. "Come on I'm going to find out what they're doing." He started out for the castle and then stopped, looking over his shoulder. "Are you coming?"

"I sighed, stuffed the rest of my stuff into my bag, and rose to my feet. Crabbe and Goyle noticed something was happening and started to stand too, but Draco waved them back down.

"No. you two will only get in the way." Slinging my bag over my shoulder I followed him up to the castle.

We made it inside without being seen.

"Draco, are you sure about this? Last time you went sneaking around you lost us twenty points for that Dragon story. . . . And if the professors decide we are up to something what do we tell them? Hello Professor, we saw Potter sneaking around and decided to follow him . . ."

"If you're worried about getting caught," he hissed at me as we entered the entrance hall and climbed the main stairway, "then stop acting like we're doing something wrong! Stand straight." I fixed my posture. "We have just as much right to be here as any one else during the day, and I've told you a hundred times, Potter did have a dragon."

Unfortunately for Draco the most we got was the sight of Potter being chased back outside by Professor McGonagall. Unfortunately for us, we were found a moment later in the first floor corroder.

It was lucky that Draco was in front of me when she caught us. I was able to pull my wand out of my sleeve and mutter the incantation "locar," without being seen. Instantly the tip of my wand pointed upwards and too the left locking on to Bandit's location. (I would have to thank Pansy later for her Christmas gift of having Bandit's collar enchanted.) Draco and I were incredibly lucky that Bandit was on a floor some where above us and not in the dungeons.

"And what are you two doing here?"

"Professor we . . ." Draco started.

"Looking for bandit." I said almost on top of him. For once it was a good thing that cat was so much trouble. "She stole our Frisbee. We were trying to get it back." I gestured to my wand. "There's a locator charm on her collar."

The professor sighed, "Get your cat, retrieve your property, and go back outside."

"Yes professor." Draco answered as we slipped past her heading towards the staircase and Bandit's location.

"Zabini, you just lied to a professor, I didn't know you had it in you!" Draco smirked at me. "Now I suppose we have to find the cat and locate a Frisbee."

"I've got one in my bag."

The next morning it was learned that Harry Potter was unconscious in the hospital wing. He remained that way fro three days, but during those three days rumors of what may or may not have happened circulated through out the school.

"No, Ron Weasley said there was a giant chess set."

"He was attacked by a hippogryph."

"He had to fly a broom and catch three different keys!"

"He had to brew a potion."

"It was a table full of potions and he had to choose the right one!"

"Granger chose the right one."

"There was a carnivorous fly trap."

"It was a devil's snare."

"A giant."

"Another troll."

"Well, I heard he had to duel Quirell."

Regardless of what the student body believed that facts were this. Potter was injured, and professor Quirrell was dead. They had carried Quirrell's body from the third floor corridor early that morning. Only the few students who had been at an early breakfast saw it, myself included. The sad truth was the Quirrell had so few friends and had been so odd, that very few grieved.

Potter didn't appear again until the end of the year feast. Slytherin had won the house cup again and the hall was filled with our colors. Everybody was seated when he walked alone, as if he were some sort of great hero. Perhaps this time he had done something to deserve the sudden silence that filled the hall at his arrival. Without knowing the details I could only assume. Every one started talking again as Potter sat down, falling silent only at Dumbledore's arrival.

The Headmaster began his announcement by talking about how full the year had been before launching into the awarding of the house cup. " and Slytherin four hundred and seventy two." We cheered. Draco banged his goblet on the tabletop and Marcus Flint whistled.

"Yes, yes well done Slytherin." Dumbledore said cutting into our cheers. "However recent events must be taken into account." I felt my stomach sink and I suddenly knew we hadn't won the house cup after all. "Ahem, I have a few last minute points to dish out, so let me see, yes . . . first to Mr. Ronald Weasley for the best game of chess Hogwarts has seen played in many years I award Gryffindor house fifty points." There were cheers from the Gryffindor table and Dumbledore was forced to wait for silence.

"Second – to Miss. Hermione Granger for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points." The Gryffindors were cheering again, but Dumbledore continued talking over them. "third - to Mr. Harry potter . . ." the room went silent hoping for the confirmation of the rumors they hoped were true. " . . . for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

The roar from the rest of the hall set my ears ringing. "what's going on?" Pansy shrieked hands over her ears.

"We're tied," I shouted back. "We're tied for the house cup."

Dumbledore raised his hand and waited. The room fell silent once more. The Slytherin table was very subdued; each of us hoping the headmaster wouldn't do what we all feared he would.

"There are all kinds of courage. It takes a great deal to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

I was forced to cover my ears, that's how loud the shouting was, and Dumbledore was still talking. "Which means we need a little change of decoration." Hands still over my ears I glanced around, and watched as the banners changed from green to red.

Loss of the house cup or not the rest of the feast was rather enjoyable. I learned the next day that I had passed all my exams, scraping through astronomy and managing to come in just behind granger in both charms and potions. All too soon it was time to return home, and this time mother met at the station. With her was the news that Milord was off for a three week business conference in Madrid.

To be continued in book two.


End file.

Harry Potter, Adventure, Drama