27: Chapter 27 Zabini's Test

After lunch, in the Slytherin Common Room.

Flint was still in detention. With one less arrogant upperclassman, the air in the Dungeon felt much easier to breathe.

Draco sat by the fireplace with "Pure-Blood Family Marriage Relations" spread across his lap. The book was open, but he wasn't really reading it.

Crabbe and Goyle sat nearby, studying Chocolate Frog cards.

"This Wizard is bald," Crabbe said.

Goyle took a look: "So he's powerful?"

"Bald people are usually powerful."

Draco held back for a moment but couldn't resist: "Can you two please get away from me?"

Goyle asked: "Why?"

"Because I am studying."

Crabbe looked down at the book on his lap: "You haven't even turned half a page."

Draco closed the book.

Allen sat in the corner with a book spread out before him as well.

It wasn't a textbook.

It was a handwritten excerpt of "a brief history of spatial magic." He only read two lines before drowsiness pressed down on him. He had practiced too long last night, and his nap during the day had been interrupted by Professor McGonagall; his body was still protesting.

But he didn't sleep.

In the Common Room, someone was watching him.

Blaise Zabini.

Zabini was not like Draco.

Draco's arrogance was written on his face; he got angry quickly and was happy quickly. He was easy to handle.

Zabini was different. He mostly sat to the side, listening more and speaking less. His mother had married several times, and her husbands had all died quite conveniently; a child from such a family would never speak too definitively.

It was worth noting that the most troublesome people in Slytherin were often not the ones who shouted the loudest.

It was people like this, who sat quietly.

Zabini walked over with a glass of pumpkin juice and sat down opposite Allen.

Draco looked up: "This seat is taken."

Zabini looked at him: "I'm not sitting on your lap, Malfoy."

Crabbe stopped counting cards.

Goyle asked seriously: "Do you charge for sitting on laps?"

Draco glared at him: "Shut up."

Zabini set down his glass, his gaze landing on the pages of Allen's book.

"You're reading Spatial Magic?"

Allen didn't look up: "Just browsing."

"Browsing and came across a book like this?"

"Flourish and Blotts was selling it off cheap."

Zabini chuckled: "If the owner of that shop heard you, he'd cry."

"He took my money; he didn't lose out."

Draco interjected: "Do you have business with Allen?"

Zabini leaned back into his chair: "Just chatting. After Flint's misfortune, many people want to have a chat with Mr. Potter."

"Then they can line up."

"Are you taking tickets for him?"

Draco's face darkened.

Allen closed the book and finally looked at Zabini.

"Speak."

Zabini didn't rush to speak. He picked up his pumpkin juice and took a sip, his movements steady.

"Flint's affair was handled cleanly."

Draco sat up straight.

Allen said: "Professor Snape handled it cleanly."

"Of course. The Dean has never liked idiots." Zabini set down his glass. "The problem is, someone placed an idiot on his desk."

Allen didn't take the bait.

You couldn't respond to such remarks.

To respond was to admit it.

By not responding, the other party wouldn't get anything.

Zabini looked at him for a few seconds, then changed direction.

"You and Draco are very close."

Draco frowned: "So what?"

Zabini didn't look at him: "The Malfoy Family has money, a seat on the Board of Governors, and a pile of relatives. Standing with him brings many benefits, but also many troubles."

Allen said: "You want to warn me too?"

"I'm not that kind-hearted," Zabini said. "Just curious. Why did a Potter choose Slytherin?"

Draco said immediately: "The Sorting Hat chose it."

"The Sorting Hat also listens to what's in people's hearts."

Allen placed his hand on the spine of the book, his fingertips pressing against the cover.

"Perhaps it didn't like the idea of me going to Gryffindor."

Zabini looked at him: "Harry Potter is there."

"That's why it's very smart."

Crabbe understood half of it: "One Potter in Gryffindor, one in Slytherin, it's quite fair."

Goyle nodded: "One on each side."

Draco pressed his hand to his forehead: "This isn't handing out candy."

Zabini really laughed this time.

After laughing, he continued: "Many people thought you would stick with Harry. Relatives, orphans, entering school the same year. It sounds like something perfect to write into The Daily Prophet."

Allen said: "The newspaper loves excitement."

"You don't?"

"Excitement attracts Professors."

Zabini paused.

This sentence was too practical; there was no way to refute it.

Slytherin students were raised hearing about rules, taking sides, and family face. But at Hogwarts, the most basic survival experience was simple.

Don't let the Professors remember you.

Especially don't let Professor Snape and Dumbledore both remember you.

Zabini lifted his glass: "Are you afraid of the Professors?"

"I'm afraid of trouble."

"Flint was also trouble."

"He was blocking the way."

Zabini chewed on these two words.

Blocking the way.

Not an enemy, not a nemesis, nor an upperclassman oppressing a lowerclassman.

Just blocking the way.

This phrasing was very Slytherin.

Draco felt very comfortable hearing this. He looked at Zabini, his tone carrying a bit more smugness: "So what do you want to ask?"

Zabini said: "I want to ask, what does Mr. Potter intend to do in Slytherin?"

A few students in the Common Room slowed their movements.

Pansy was flipping through a magazine nearby, but her ears were not idle.

Nott was sitting on the other side of the fireplace, his book pages un-turned for a long time.

Allen took in these details but gave no reaction on his face.

"Attend class, sleep, take exams."

Draco was almost choked by this answer.

Zabini also paused for half a beat.

"Just that?"

"And eat."

Goyle looked up: "Eating is very important."

Crabbe agreed: "Especially important."

Draco cursed under his breath: "You two, don't chime in."

Zabini looked at Allen, and only after a while did he say: "You don't look like someone who only wants to eat."

Allen said: "You don't look like someone who only wants to chat either."

The two sat across from each other at the table.

The fire in the fireplace wasn't burning brightly, the Dungeon was damp, and the edges of the parchment curled up. The people around them who had pricked up their ears slowly withdrew their gazes.

Because they couldn't understand anymore.

This wasn't a conflict on the surface like Draco's.

This was more like two people measuring each other up. Whoever revealed their trump card first would be at a disadvantage.

Zabini pushed his glass to the side.

"Then let me change my question. Will you stand on Harry Potter's side?"

Draco's expression immediately soured.

Allen answered quickly: "No."

Zabini asked: "Will you go against him?"

"No profit in that."

"What if he blocks your path?"

Allen looked at him.

This time he didn't answer immediately.

Draco also quieted down. Harry was the Gryffindor The Chosen One, the person Dumbledore valued, the person most prone to causing incidents in the whole school. Standing with him was trouble, and going against him was even more trouble.

Zabini's question was very precise.

Allen spoke: "That depends on which path he is blocking."

Zabini nodded.

That was enough.

The answer was neither sentimental nor reckless.

A Potter not kidnapped by familial affection.

This was more worth observing than a Malfoy eager to prove himself.

Zabini stood up and adjusted his cuffs.

"I understand."

Draco snorted: "What do you understand?"

"I understand why you are willing to listen to him," Zabini looked at Draco. "If it were you handling Flint, you would have probably already written three letters home by now."

Crabbe raised his hand: "Letters require writing a lot of words."

Goyle added: "And need an owl to deliver them."

Draco's face went completely black: "You two are not allowed to eat my candy today."

Crabbe froze.

Goyle looked down at his pocket, starting to calculate how much stock he still had.

Zabini turned to leave, but walked two steps and stopped.

"Potter, Nott has been watching you."

Allen didn't turn back: "Does he read less?"

Nott turned a page of his book by the fireplace.

Zabini smiled and said no more.

After he walked far away, Draco lowered his voice: "He came to probe you."

"Hmm."

"And you just let him go like that?"

"He didn't get what he wanted."

Draco frowned: "Then what did he understand?"

Allen opened the book again.

"That I don't like being asked too much."

Draco looked at him, and after a few seconds, opened "Pure-Blood Family Marriage Relations" again.

"I've finished memorizing Chapter Three."

Allen's hand, which was turning the page, paused.

"Then memorize Chapter Four."

Draco's expression worsened.

Crabbe asked in a low voice: "What is Chapter Four about?"

Goyle looked at the small print under the cover: "Property Inheritance."

Crabbe breathed a sigh of relief: "As long as it's not marriage."

Draco slammed the book between them.

Allen looked down at his book, but his eyelids were getting heavier and heavier.

Zabini had not defected, nor was he hostile.

This type of person would not easily take sides.

But the fact that he had taken the initiative to sit over today meant that the Flint incident had already had an effect.

The waters of Slytherin were beginning to move.

And all Allen had to do was continue sitting in the corner, letting others show their feet first.