Harry Potter and the Prince of Slytherin

Chapter 9: The Birthday Party (Pt 2)

"Would you excuse me for a minute, Hermione," he said. "Blaise is over there pretending he doesn't want to speak to me. I better go see what he doesn't want me for."

Hermione shook her head in amusement. "Slytherins," she said.

Ignoring Hermione's jibe, Harry made his way towards the house. When he got within twenty feet of Blaise, the other boy turned and walked through the front door into Potter Manor without giving any sign he'd even see Harry. With an annoyed sigh, Harry followed. Once inside, he found Blaise nonchalantly leaning against a wall next to the door leading to the billiard room.

"What?" said Harry irritably. "You're being all cloak-and-daggery. What gives?"

"First of all, daggery isn't a word. Second, my mom wants to speak with you. She's waiting in there." He nodded towards the door.

"Yeah, well, daggery should be a word in any world that has you in it. And why are you both being so mysterious? She's had two hours to come and speak to me and hasn't bothered. I did notice, however, that she found time to meet every eligible bachelor here, plus half the prominent married men, and to show each of them just enough interest to make all their girlfriends and wives jealous."

Blaise shrugged. "Everyone needs a hobby. Anyway, she planned on meeting with you later after the crowd thinned, but something happened that made her decide that we need to leave. Like, soon."

"What?" asked Harry, now concerned.

Blaise looked around conspiratorially. "She had a cup of tea," he whispered.

Harry stared at Blaise with narrowed eyes. "Oh no. You're not doing that to me, Blaise Zabini. Confusing people with sudden non sequiturs is my gimmick. Your thing is floating around at the edge of everyone's awareness until you nail someone with a sarcastic remark."

Blaise snorted in amusement. "Yeah, it is, isn't it? But anyway, I'm quite serious. Mom's had Divination training. Real training, not that crap they offer at Hogwarts. And she says she saw a sign of impending danger in the leaves from the bottom of her teacup, so we're leaving early. But before we go, she wants to meet with you, so go in and talk to her. And be respectful. She's my mom and she's foreign nobility, so be at least as polite to her as you are to Molly Weasley."

Harry sniffed. "I am always respectful to elders not named Potter, Blaise, even the parents of people as annoying as you." And with that, Harry swept imperiously past his snickering friend into the billiard room. Inside, Serena Zabini sat in an overstuffed chair next to the window as she delicately sipped from a tea cup engraved with a golden "Z" crest.

"Countess Zabini, I presume. Or should I say Contessa Zabini?"

"Either is acceptable, Signor Potter," she said in a cultured Italian accent. "Or even Comtesse, I suppose. I am of Sicilian descent with dual Italian and British citizenship and am heiress by marriage to a landed estate in France. To be honest, I never truly know where I am until I hear myself being formally introduced. So let us simplify things. You may address me as Lady Serena."

Harry sat down in a matching chair across from the Countess. Between them was a coffee table which held a tea tray, complete with service for two. The tray, cups and teapot all bore the Zabini family crest: a stylized golden "Z" pierced vertically with a stiletto. He thought it somewhat odd that the Countess would have summoned her own personal tea set for this meeting but did not comment on it. She was a Pureblood, after all.

"As you wish, Lady Serena. Blaise said you wished to speak with me. Also something about tea leaves that I didn't quite follow."

"Ah yes. My Blaise. Il mio Passerotto bello. He has told me so much of you, Harry Potter. You have made quite an impression on him and on many others. I expect great things from you, Signor Potter. But – first and foremost, I am Blaise's mother, and I worry about him. Great people, often with only the best of intentions, frequently leave chaos and destruction in their wake, chaos and destruction that rain down upon those around them even as it leaves them largely unscathed. I worry, Signor Potter. I worry about the cost Blaise may pay in the future for your friendship. Le streghe siciliani have a saying: Il destino è pagato nel sangue. Destiny is paid for in blood."