Chapter 2: Long Story Short

[I]-[B]-[S]

Summer 1993 - Italy

Blaise Zabini

[I]-[B]-[S]

For essentially an entire month, I’d been working out, studying, trying to improve my spell-work to the point I could do them wandlessly, and trying to create a spell to replicate the web-slinging that Miles and Peter did. The constant trial and error was worth it, too, as I was able to complete it in just over a week while still studying several subjects. I moved on to getting it to the point I could do it without a wand, like most of my other minor spells, and got that down in a few days as well.

That was another benefit of having [Occlumency] at the level I now had it at.  Learning spells and improving magic were much easier. It made perfect sense from a gamer’s point of view, mages need high ‘mind’ and ‘intelligence’ levels in games after all.

My webs were made of pure magic, not the kind acromantula create, and dissolve after an hour. The only reason I hadn’t developed the different web variants Spider-Man had was, honestly, a lack of necessity and the fact that I had fully assimilated Miles now, and thought it best to focus on regular magic for the meantime. The only downside was that I could only practice around the manor and through its corridors and hallways with high ceilings.

[Character Assimilation: Marvel - Miles Morales (Spiderman) 100%]

When the strength kicked in, I actually had to put runes on the weights I had Kiki buy for me when I sent him off to purchase enchanted rubber balls. The balls were enchanted to replicate quick spells being fired at wizards for training, which I later enhanced myself to replicate bullet fire during my rune study when I was confident enough. I had yet to be hit by a single ‘attack’ during training.

Like the Slytherin that I was, I thought of several plans to deal with the Wizarding world’s snake problem. One such plan was to write a letter to the PO Box address Hermione gave me for the Flammels, her thanks for helping them with the Philosopher's Stone problem the year before. Apparently, the French couple awarded them their ‘highly sought after’ correspondence when they ‘solved’ the stone problem.

A part of me thought it was some kind of added plan to put Harry in touch with the couple, should he die. Or rather, when he died in a few years, but for all I knew, he might have been telling the thrush when he said the Flamels would pass now that the Stone was destroyed.

The letter I wrote to them was regarding being a [Seer] and losing some of the ability after a ritual that fixed the range to only short future sight. It was my way of giving myself credibility when I told Dumbledore, along with any of the other Order of the Flaming Chicken, of the [Horcruxes] and their whereabouts.

A part of me didn’t even want them to answer, honestly. That way, I could tell people I tried to inform the most knowledgeable people I knew, who wouldn’t use me as a pawn, if they started pointing fingers. The result was finding myself sitting in front of said old French couple the day before I needed to leave for Hogwarts, patiently drinking tea.

“Are you done being lost in your thoughts, dear boy?” Nicolas asked as he took a sip of his cup with an amused twinkle in his eye, which had me thinking he was who Dumbledore got it from. Much like his wife, he looked like he was in his early thirties, unlike how he was portrayed in the Fantastic Beasts movies. It initially caught me off guard when they first arrived, but I just added it to things that are different in this verse.

When they arrived, I double checked the wards specifically designed to detect ill will from visitors and found them working fine, indicating they didn’t want to cause me harm. They brought the letter I sent them as proof, left when I still didn’t grant them access to the manor due to my reasonable paranoia, and had Dumbledore bring them back using his phoenix to verify they were who they said they were. I simply shrugged at their raised brow when I finally let them in, unashamedly letting them know that there was nothing wrong with being cautious.

If magical oaths were real, like they were in fanon, I’d have had them do that too. But even without it, I had the [Spider Sense], which is confirmed to detect magical danger as well, and it wasn't going off in the slightest. On top of that, I didn’t need to talk to Dumbledore much, aside from thanking him for verifying their identities, so I was inwardly grateful to Perenelle when she shooed him off like a petulant child. I didn’t want to have to deal with his shit.

Taking a folded paper from my pocket, I wandlessly floated it over to Nicolas, who just casually took it from the air, completely unbothered by my talent for the art.

“Honestly, a part of me didn’t think you would read the letter I sent a few weeks ago,” I said.

Nicolas ignored my comment as he frowned while looking through the ritual contents on the paper. “This should kill anyone who goes through it.”

I was utterly unsurprised but asked anyway. “Kill them?… As in always kill them?”

“Yes,” Nicolas replied without missing a beat, holding the parchment between two fingers with a worrying wince. “This ritual, based on my expertise in the art, seems designed to remove emotions attached to specific events in a person's mind. Even if performed correctly, especially by someone young, it results in immediate failure. And death. At best, they would lobotomise themself into a permanent vegetable state.”

That… was objectively pretty cool. Not the lobotomy part, but the part about him being able to tell exactly what I was trying just by looking at it. I suppose it was similar to a master coder looking at an amateur and being able to instantly figure out what they were trying to make and where they messed up.

Old Blaise messed up and paid for it with his life. I, on the other hand, had the [System]. I'd stick with only doing rituals confirmed to work and purchase anything else from the system when I finally got some real points stacked up. If I had been the one to kill the basilisk, I would have done the ritual I read, which would have increased my already enhanced physique by eating its meat. But I didn’t get Harry's body. If I did, I’d have been eating Basilisk steak on a daily basis.

“Well…” I cleared my throat. “I’m obviously not dead.”

“That,” Nicolas said, placing the parchment flat on the table close to his wife and laying his eyes on me, “is the confusing part.”

Perenelle reached for the parchment, following each line with her eyes. “You’re certain you followed the instructions exactly as written?”

“Yes,” I nodded. I knew they didn’t need to actually read the paper for as long as they did, assuming they had [Occlumency] levels at the max due to centuries of experience, but I could see they wanted to make me feel at ease with having people actively paying attention to my ‘troubles’. I had to give them credit for that.

“Then the result shouldn’t be possible,” Nicolas murmured with a small frown. “Unless being a Seer had an added element. But even then…” he trailed off.

“... Or maybe I’m just magically stronger than average?”

Nicolas gave me a look that made it clear he wasn’t convinced, which would have had me demonstrating my increased strength by lifting the entire table with one hand, if I were a Gryffindor. “I have taught students for many years, Mr Zabini. Magical strength, volume and or potency is part of it, yes, but not enough to bypass the fundamental limits of the human mind.”

Perenelle set the parchment down and folded her hands gently in front of herself. “Did you experience any unusual symptoms afterwards? Aside from the altered Seer’s Sight, that is. Exhaustion? Memory disruption? Magical instability? Maybe headaches?”

“Not really,” I shook my head. “Well, aside from a minor increase in physical strength.”

It was best to downgrade it at least a little while letting them know some of what happened, rather than say nothing. At least, that’s what Blaise’s Slytherin instincts were telling me.

“Hermione did mention you were unusual,” Perenelle added out of nowhere with a smirk. “In a good way, of course.”

I assumed her side-tracking was some kind of good-cop bad-cop tactic, so I didn't react other than letting out a hum and giving her a nod with a polite smile, which only earned me an amused smile in return.

Nicolas leaned back, lightly caressing his chin while seemingly ignoring his dear wife’s antics. “What seems most likely is that your Sight did something unconventional. It seems to have absorbed or redirected most of the ritual’s backlash rather than being destroyed by it. Either that, or someone did a ritual on or around you when you were young or unaware, and that essentially saved your life.”

 “Again… I’m not dead,” I shrugged. “So, I’m living on the bright side.”

Nicolas didn’t smile. He only gave me a sad, almost sympathetic look, like I’d unknowingly brushed against something tragic.

Perenelle, on the other hand, glanced at the ritual’s contents and pursed her lips. “It looks as though you attempted an ancient variant of an emotion-based Obliviation charm on yourself, darling,” she summed up, like I was a child who didn’t know what I did wrong. “One that meddles with memory, intuition, and the subconscious.” Then she added with a gentle, almost resigned sigh. “We should be glad for life’s small mercies.”

“Small mercies indeed.” Nicolas snorted. “Would you care to explain what you saw? And what can you see now? Leaving out, of course, the details of events that have not yet happened.” He waved a hand dismissively when he saw my raised brow. “You seem like the rather cautious type. We’d rather not meddle with the future and make it worse where possible, anyway.”

“Unless you think you saw something that needed our immediate help to prevent, that is,” Perenelle added. “We’re not so old and grumpy that we wouldn’t want to give a helping hand.”

I shrugged. “Well… before the ritual, I saw years ahead, but it was a world in which Hogwarts started at eleven. And the events at school with the Philosopher’s Stone and the basilisk happened in a similar manner… mostly without me being involved.”

Perenelle’s eyebrows shifted up slightly as she tapped her chin while nodding in understanding and murmuring. “That explains how you knew to help young Hermione in such precise little ways the moment she so much as hinted she needed something.”

I know she has some self-esteem issues due to her childhood as an underappreciated, nerdy know-it-all who didn’t have any friends, but that girl really needed to keep some things to herself.

Nicolas smiled as he let out a snort. “Didn’t help much against him being petrified by the basilisk though, eh?”

“Nicolas!” Perenelle hissed, shooting him a disapproving look.

“In my defence," I deadpanned at the man. “As I said, what I saw mostly didn’t involve my interference. If I change something, even if it's small and close to the time I see it happen, to avoid a butterfly effect too big, I still run the risk of things changing in ways I’m unprepared for. Being a Seer doesn’t let me see everything, you know.”

Nicolas lifted his hands in mock surrender.  “I was only joking, lad.” He glanced at his wife’s warning stare, which changed to an approving nod before tapping his finger on the table and continuing. “It seems you were seeing an alternate version of reality in which you never interfered. One with events close enough to ours that you recognised them, but one in which the age for magical learning never increased worldwide to what it is now.”

Perenelle nodded with an appreciative smile. “And acting on those visions the way you did was likely why so many students survived those incidents.”

They were going to survive regardless. Most likely. But she didn’t need to know that, so I kept my features neutral.

“Why intervene the way you did, though?” Nicolas asked. “Why not simply go to Dumbledore and let him handle it? That would have been the sensible choice for someone your age.”

I met his eyes without flinching and answered honestly. “Because Dumbledore can’t be trusted.”

Both Flamels blinked, but luckily didn’t jump straight to singing Dumbledore’s praises, which was a good sign in my book. Or rather, a bad sign, considering they knew him best and still weren’t all in on him being the next coming of Merlin for the ‘light’.

Nicolas’ expression tightened. “So your visions showed him behaving in ways that made you doubt him,” he said slowly, as if piecing it together aloud while thinking of the ways his student messed up.

Perenelle leaned forward slightly. “Blaise… visions are not the absolute truth. They can show possibilities or futures that could never come to pass. What you saw is not a fixed fact, but, as you’ve already noticed in the last two years, they should not be ignored either.”

“I know,” I nodded. “That’s why I haven’t run around telling everyone that Dumbledore is secretly a Dark Lord or something of the sort.”

There was still a possibility of that in this verse, but I wasn’t going to go around doing something so crazy to lose a useful potential ally.

Nicolas studied me closely for a moment, as if searching my expression for cracks or signs of obsession, something I would have done too in his place. Whatever he found, or didn’t find, seemed to satisfy him. “Good,” he said. “Some Seers fall into madness when confronted with visions they cannot temper. It’s reassuring you’re not letting the images rule your life.”

Perenelle let out a soft, pointed sigh. “Nicolas… he created and performed a ritual that should have killed him. I’d hardly call anything about this situation stable.”

Nicolas just shrugged. “Better a touch of eccentricity than full-blown madness.”

“Minor insanity is not something to dismiss, husband,” Perenelle chided.

“It’s also better than being dead,” Nicolas countered without missing a beat. Perenelle gave him a look that suggested he was two comments away from transfiguring him into furniture. The back-and-forth had me wondering whether she was talking about my madness or her husband’s.

Perenelle then just shook her head with a sigh, reaching for the plate between them and taking a biscuit, before turning her attention back to me. “Would you like to talk about the emotions you attempted to forget, dear?”

“No, thank you, I’d rather not.” I shook my head before clearing my throat. “Do you have any rituals that can alter a person’s Seer abilities?”

The Zabini library was relatively big but limited at the same time. Only a few things in there could be considered revolutionary from what I saw, and that was only really because it was outside Britain, because of their ridiculous laws on what they considered ‘dark magic’. If I could get anything from the long-lived couple like them, then I would be all the better for it. 

Nicolas hummed thoughtfully. “Before we get to that, perhaps you should explain, or demonstrate, how your abilities have changed. Then we can determine whether anything can be done.”

“Well… I can anticipate a few seconds ahead,” I shrugged. “Helps with duelling, dodging, things like that. But I haven’t been able to see anything long-term at all.”

“There are a few rituals that deal with improving the Sight and Prophetic dreams,” Nicolas admitted. “But most of them carry… dangerous and unpleasant risks. I can’t, in good conscience, offer them to you. If I were you, I would limit myself to the regular rituals confirmed to work, at least until you gain mastery of Rituals.”

I only nodded, hearing the tone in his voice that made it clear he wasn’t going to budge. “Worth a shot.”

Both Flamels frowned at that for some reason.

Perenelle exchanged a glance with Nicolas before focusing back on me, with concern clear in her eyes. “You seem remarkably unconcerned about losing a major part of your Seer abilities, dear.”

Nicolas folded his arms. “I’d say the emotional removal may have worked a little too well. You speak very calmly for someone whose futures have narrowed from long-distance visions to mere seconds.”

“That’s not it,” I shook my head. “I already saw far enough ahead that I know I can make small changes over the years, like what I did with the basilisk and the philosopher’s stone. I know there’ll be things I can’t change, but it's still better than not having seen any potential future like regular Wizards.” I shrugged. “As long as events follow the general path I saw, I’ll know what to do when the time comes. Besides, I could still study Divination and take it seriously.”

Turns out, learning Divination isn’t such a hoax like the movie portrayed, if the books I read were anything to go by. Just because a person wasn’t gifted with the [Sight] or talented in Divination, doesn’t mean you couldn't learn and gain skill by putting in the work. It was just unfortunately looked down on because even with skill, talent and the [Sight], you could still end up being wrong. People didn’t like believing in things that can be too easily faked, wrongly interpreted or just often incorrect.

Perenelle frowned slightly. “And if events do not follow the path you saw?”

“Then I adapt,” I shrugged again. “Use the resources I have at my disposal to the best of my ability. I am a Slytherin after all.”

Both Flamels let out quiet, relieved sighs as their shoulders loosened, which only confused me.

Seeing my expression, Nicolas offered a wry smile. “We were concerned, you know. That the ritual may have stripped your emotions away. An emotionless wizard is… unpredictable. And often rather dangerous.”

Perenelle nodded. “We’ve known of many young wizards exceptionally skilled in the Mind Arts who intentionally removed every emotion they had over our lifetime. It never ends well.”

I stared at them, unimpressed, knowing exactly who they may have been comparing me to and not liking it one bit. “…Did you think I was turning into Voldemort? That I would make the same mistake Tom Riddle did?”

“Well,” Perenelle said gently, “Can you blame us, darling? He was the most recent one that came to mind after all.”

I let out a hum, not letting it get to me in the slightest and wanting to use this as an opportunity to add to my reliability regarding the snake. “I know he’s not truly dead. And I’ve already been giving quiet help where I can. The events of the last 2 years at Hogwarts can attest to that, at least.”

Nicolas smirked. “And you’ve been doing a rather good job of it, dear boy. The fight against Riddle will be fortunate to have your assistance.”

We spoke casually for a few minutes, small observations about Hogwarts, Hermione, and the state of the world. Eventually, the conversation turned to the time the Wizarding World changed the age of magical learning, when Muggles began to focus more on the well-being of their 11-year-olds.

Eventually, Nicolas refocused. “Your account of events is compelling. But Seers, true Seers, like we’re taking a leap of faith in assuming you are based on the tidbits of information you’re providing… tend to have verifiable knowledge. So far, you’ve basically told us that what you saw was significantly different to reality, and that you know Voldemort's true identity, which is something a person could learn if they looked hard enough. Is there anything else you can tell us that would confirm your words?”

While they did say I shouldn’t mention anything about the future, so they couldn’t meddle with it and make it worse, I did get their point. They were basically taking it on my word that I was telling the truth. Nicolas was basically asking if they could leave here with a little more substance, something that would allow their currently open minds to increase my chances of them believing me.

After giving it some thought, I began recounting the significant events of the Fantastic Beasts movies in detail. Grindelwald, the obscurial, Credence, Newt Scamander’s involvement, Leta Lestrange’s fate, Queenie’s defection, the blood pact, and the duel between Dumbledore and Grindelwald when he tried to cheat the election for Supreme Mugwump. A lot of which was never mentioned in the newspapers or tabloids. I’d checked.

When I finished, Nicolas sat very still with a small smile tugging at his lips. “Well, a few details differ from what truly happened… but most of what you said is…. Hmm. Let's just say I highly doubt any of the individuals involved would share such details.”

Perenelle looked equally impressed. “So the past as well as the future, hm? I would advise that any secret rituals or spells be kept to yourself where possible, should you see them being performed in your vision. We have known many a Witch and Wizard who suffered after the true creators found their hard work replicated without permission.”

That would work in my favour too. Any perk I get from the [System] will be assumed to have been taken from a vision and performed to the creator's specifications, after I have confirmed they work in said ‘vision’. Regardless, I gave her a nod as I reached for my teacup to take a sip.

Setting the cup down, I got down to the other important business I wanted to discuss. “So… will you be able to keep Dumbledore off my back? As long as I’m not doing anything wrong, that is? I know he may not be as bad as what I saw, but that doesn’t mean he’s perfect either.”

They couldn’t argue that much. I had already told them I literally saw his friendship with Gellert Grindelwald, which was clearly more than a friendship. So, there was every possibility that I saw him do something rather shady, which could just as well be accurate.

Both Nicolas and Perenelle nodded almost immediately. “Yes, yes,” Nicolas said firmly. “It will be fine. We’ll speak with him. He listens to us… most of the time.” His mouth twitched. “We will, however, have to mention that you’re a Seer, darling. That much is a minimum requirement.”

“That’s fine,” I shrugged in relief, hoping the old man would at least be less of a problem knowing that much. At least compared to thinking I was actively against them. “I figured as much.”

After talking some more, we finished our tea, and Nicolas stood,  brushing imaginary dust from his robes. “Don’t be a stranger,” he said. “Send us letters from time to time. Immortality gets terribly boring with little contact with the outside world. Honestly, this conversation has been the most fun we’ve had in half a decade.”

I snorted under my breath, but Nicolas ignored it and continued. “And when you reach at least Level 2 in Occlumency, I might consider teaching you a thing or two, like I once taught Dumbledore. It starts to get annoying rather quickly when teaching someone without that much, or at least a natural eidetic memory.”

I blinked. “I already have.”

Nicolas paused mid-movement as he helped his wife up like a gentleman. “…You’re certain?”

“Positive,” I replied way too quickly, but didn’t care. There was no way I would give up the chance to learn from the man, hopefully before he died, now that they no longer had the [Philosopher Stone]. Provided that Dumbledore’s words to Harry were actually valid about them ‘getting their affairs in order’. “And honestly? I’m a bit surprised I never felt either of you trying to poke inside my mind while we talked.”

Nicolas gave a scoff of amusement. “I prefer a proper conversation. Perenelle even more so. Delving into people’s minds spoils the interaction.” He waved a dismissive hand. “Besides, if you’ve truly reached that level at your age, you should be perfectly capable of deciding your own boundaries and facing the consequences for any wrongdoing. Not that it’s any excuse for diabolical behaviour.”

While I didn’t think all 18-year-olds made good decisions, even though they were considered adults, I was assuming he was going off the adult age of his time. If I were him, I would have at least suggested some books on the morality of magic use, some of which I had read through in the library when I was done with the books on magical law.

Nicolas’ expression sharpened to one far more interested. “I wouldn’t mind teaching you over Winter or Summer break. In exchange, of course, for helping us test the limits of your diminished Seer abilities. It’s not every day something like this happens, after all. And now my interest is piqued.”

“Deal,” I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t even care that it could have been used as a way for the Flaming Chicken to gain information on any other visions I had, like some kind of Flamel long game.

Nicolas nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Good. I’ll owl you.”

Perenelle stepped forward, smiling warmly and wrapping me in a gentle hug before I could react. “Take care of yourself, darling,” she said softly. “And do write, please. Even if I can't do so with others due to secrecy, I still love to gossip with my husband over tea.”

“I will,” I replied with a slightly awkward smirk. A moment later, both Flamels stepped into the Floo,  letting the emerald flames rush up and carry them away.

I was left nodding to myself at how well the conversation went, while my now more cunning thought process was over the moon with the fact that I now had a legitimate connection with the most popular and important couple on the planet.

[I]-[B]-[S]

Hogwarts – Head Master’s Office

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The fireplace in Dumbledore’s office roared to life as Nicolas and Perenelle stepped out, brushing soot from their clothes. Dumbledore, seated behind his desk and having long since set the Floo to allow their entry, looked up in mild surprise. “Nicolas, Perenelle,” he greeted with respectful nods. “What brings you–”

“Leave the boy alone, Albus,” Nicolas said cheerfully, hands clasped behind his back when they reached his desk, with a wide, almost innocent smile on his face.

Dumbledore blinked, knowing full well who they were referring to but being too confused not to ask. “…Which boy?”

“Why, Blaise Zabini, of course,” Perenelle supplied, far more subdued than her husband.

Dumbledore’s confusion only deepened. “To my knowledge, I wasn’t bothering the young Slytherin. Has he made a complaint of some kind?”

“Oh, none of that. You were going to at some point, eventually,” Nicolas waved a hand.  “You wouldn’t have been able to help yourself.”

Dumbledore’s eyebrows rose. “I assure you, Nicolas, I had no plans to do anything you may–”

“Nonsense, my boy,” Nicolas said, stepping forward as though the matter were already settled. “Consider this a friendly warning from an old teacher. The boy is fine. Quite capable of handling himself. Leave him be, lest he see you as an enemy and decline to continue helping the way he has been so far.”

Perenelle added gently, “He is a Seer, Albus. And a responsible one. You need not pry too much. At least while he isn’t committing heinous acts, obviously. We did only have one conversation with the boy, after all.”

That made Dumbledore pause. “A Seer?” he repeated slowly. ”I take it he saw me not leaving him alone?” Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed. “And what, precisely, did he see? Did he give you proof of any of his claims? He is a child after all, and many of them are known to tell fibs from time to time.”

Perenelle offered a smile. “That, I do believe, is for young Zabini to share. Or not. We can, however, confirm that his aid in saving the school from disaster these past two years has been thanks to that particular ability. We didn't ask for any memories or anything, Albus.” She deadpanned, knowing that was what he was really asking for, but didn't want to feel the shame of speaking the words into life. “That would have been rather improper. Especially for a first meeting."

Dumbledore leaned back, studying them both through half-moon spectacles. “I see,” he murmured. “I will do my best to.. ‘Leave the boy alone,’ as you say, to the best of my abilities and keep an ear open for any prophecies or visions then. Though, I would have appreciated some… tangible proof.”

“Very good,” Perenelle nodded. “And we did say we confirmed he was Seer. We just don't have any proof that we can give you, darling.” She shook her head in mock disappointment. “Do pay attention.”

“Excellent,” Nicolas beamed, ignoring the Dumbledore sigh at his wife's antics. “Knew we could count on you.” He leaned forward along with his wife, like children hoping to get some gossip. “Now, why don’t you tell us about the boy? There was only so much we could get from him in person.” He snorted. “The snake-lot around these parts of the world tends to be rather secretive.”

The Headmaster was still confused, but he knew better than to argue with the Flamels when they were in agreement. That didn't stop him from asking as many questions as he could. However, he only received a response regarding a ritual that went wrong, which was why the Flamels were contacted in the first place.

The Flamels would soon learn of the reason the young Lord of House Zabini tried to tamper with his mind in such a manner and shake their heads in astonishment at his overdramatic behaviour, all the while muttering to themselves about young love and how dumb youngsters could be.

Dumbledore would ask what they knew of the Ritual that went wrong with Zabini, but received nothing but more gossip about other young lovers the Flamels had known to be just as overdramatic, which Dumbledore reluctantly listened to for over an hour before politely asking his mentor and his spouse to leave him to his work.

The first person Dumbledore contacted when the French couple left was Professor Snape for a small chat.

[I]-[B]-[S]

"Worrying means you suffer twice."

– Newt Scamander.

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Hello There

A slightly different approach to meeting the Flamels than PWM, but I knew I wanted them to interact with this fic much earlier.

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Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC and/or original ideas. All other credit goes to their respective owners.

Note: All chapters will eventually be posted on public forums.

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Thank you for reading.

As always, stay awesome.

Until next time, Light's out.