Stupid Is As Stupid Does


A silence.


I rolled onto my side and ignored the jabbing finger in my back.


'WHADDDAYAAA WANT!!!' I shouted at last, shooting upwards in bed and nearly colliding with my brother's forehead. This was the third time he'd come in this morning and I was close to hexing him. Well, I already had but he ran off with my wand the second time so I hid under the blankets instead.

'Blaise, Mother said you have to get up now, she said you'll disgrace the family if you turn up late to meeting the Parkinsons.' I groaned. 'And Father says he'll let me practice my hexes on you, I saw this brilliant one in that book you gave me, where it makes the person's nose and ear hair grow.'

Not wanting to be made subject to my brother's attempt at cursing me I quickly slipped from my bed. 'All right, I'm up.' I grumble. 'Now go and get out of my room so I can have some privacy, and send Minny up with some breakfast.' I started rooting through my wardrobe for something to wear but my ears detected that Nikolas hadn't moved yet. He tends to stomp everywhere he goes.

'Still here?' I whirled around with a set of satin robes in my hands. I glared at him. 'What?'

'I'm not your slave!' he announced.

'Is that all? Alright then, now will you get Minny now? Please?'

Nikolas tilted his head to the side as he considered this, then he nodded. 'But only because you said please.'

I roll my eyes, at this rate my brother would end up a Hufflepuff. Shudder. 'Oh, and Nikky darling..'

Nikolas wrinkled his nose in disgust at 'Nikky'.

'Do you mind if I borrow that book?'

My brother stared at me almost fearfully, 'You're not going to use it on me, are you?'

I raised an eyebrow, 'Of course not, it's for someone else. Besides, you'd tell Mother.'

Nikolas nodded, 'Alright then, you can borrow it. But I want it back!'

'Of course, wouldn't dream of keeping it. Such vulgar things are hex books. And Nikolas?'


'Get out of my room before I hex you into oblivion.'

He ran like he had a hoard of blast-ended skrewts at his heels. I sighed and turned back to my dresser, I love my brother really, only, he's such a brown-noser. Always running to tell Mother everything I do. The hex book wasn't for him, or for the random Gryffindors we might see in Diagon Alley. I was actually rather interested as to what Pansy Parkinson might look like with excess body hair, sprouting from ears and nostrils– surely an improvement?

There was a knock on the door and Minny, our house elf entered, carrying a large silver tray with my breakfast on, she had also put the Daily Prophet down next to it. I had started to cultivate an interest in the news recently, which my father greatly approved of, though what he didn't like was my keen interest in political matters. Especially when I started talking about muggleborns. Pureblood families were not supposed to be interested in the affairs of muggleborns or mudbloods as my father so crudely puts. Purebloods are the most prestigious and respected members of the wizarding community and must uphold certain beliefs. The primary one that all purebloods must only marry other purebloods, lest their line get tainted by a witch or wizard with muggle blood. This of course is stupid. I tried to explain to father the illogic of it all, marrying within families would only weaken the bloodline, interbreeding is not healthy and could make you susceptible to certain diseases. Father denies this and says it strengthens magic. I then pointed out that if we only married purebloods then wizards would die out as they aren't very many pureblooded families left. He told me to shut up.

As you can see, talking to Father about matters such as these is like talking to a brick wall. A very thick one at that.

I put down the robes in my hands and picked up the paper.

What I saw made me drop it instantly.

Staring back at me, on the paper's cover was the ghastly face of a dementor. Well, alright–– hood then, but it was still enough to send shivers down my spine. I remember in third year when the Ministry was looking for the escaped convict, Sirius Black, and we had some board the train, ugh, never again. I have no idea how the Azkaban Guard stand it, Father says they don't for very long, they have to work in hourly shifts and most of them quit after a couple of weeks. Eck.

I looked back down at the paper 'Dementors Attack Village!' screamed at me from the cover. I sat down and read into the article.

In the early hours of yesterday morning the seaside village of Coalmire was attacked by a group of rogue dementors reports Georgina Starbuckle. It is said that the group had somehow managed to make their way over part of the English Channel into the Coalmire Docks where they instantly set upon the villagers living there. Aurors were soon on the scene and managed to chase the creatures off, but not before the dementors had begun feeding. There were 7 fatalities in total, 2 of which were children and another man who took his own life rather than be subjected to the Kiss. Inquiries are being made as to how the dementors escaped, yet it is thought they were transported by boat over to the English coast by Death Eaters. Since the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named earlier this year, there have been various attacks on muggles and wizards alike, though none as this serious. When we asked what the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge intends to do about the attacks he replied: 'Well, we're doing the best we can, but what can we do against You-Know-Who?' When we pressed him further he told us to 'go away'. It has been commented that the Minister knew well before us that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned when Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived told him, yet we were told it was just pure make-believe on the boy's part. It seems that Fudge's suitability as Minister of magic may come into question; indeed, can a man who allows these attacks to continue without taking any further action be fitting for the place as Minister? In any case, we must think carefully if we want a wizard in charge who knew almost a year before that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had risen again but failed to tell us, is this really safe for our children?

I stopped reading then, disgusted. Cornelius Fudge was a bumbling idiot, why on earth hadn't he been replaced?

'Is miss finished reading?' Minny piped up. 'Only Minny must make a start on lunch soon, Master is expecting guests.'

I wrinkled my nose and threw the paper to the side. When I was washed and dressed I made my way downstairs into the living room where Mother was sitting, drinking tea. 'Oh there you are Blaise!'

I winced; Mother has an incredibly shrill voice. 'Thank Merlin! Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting for you this morning? Never mind, we have 10 minutes to meet the Parkinson's, I was hoping to look at this new set of dress robes in Madame Maulkins but I can't now.' She scowled at me.

I looked about the room, 'Mother, where is Father?'

'In his study but we really should––'

I left before she could finish speaking. I knocked on the door to my father's study and hear a cold 'Enter.'

I swept in and slapped the paper onto his desk. 'Look!'

My Father ignored it and continued with his writing. 'Blaise, I have already seen this morning's paper.'

'Then you've seen the article about the dementors?'

'Blaise?' Oh Merlin, now Mother's come after me.

Father frowned; he did not like interruptions when he was working. 'Yes, I have seen it Blaise and I don't see why you are so anxious about it.'

'Why? Father, there are rogue dementors on the loose, that village was attacked!'

'And you're point is?' I gaped at him stupidly. 'Blaise, I have work to do, now go with your mother I have no time for this, you're going to be late.'

'S'alright to be fashionably late,' I grumbled.

'Darling,' Mother interrupted. 'We already are fashionably late, but soon we're going to be late for that and that's just rude.'

I ignored her and went on, 'Father, aren't you the least bit concerned? I don't even know how to produce a patronus I––'

'Blaise, not many wizards can produce a patronus, especially at your age now if you don't leave this childish worrying I'm going to get angry.'

I took his hint and left, Father was not of the good-tempered sort, he had a fast fuse which took a while to die down. It ran in the family. The Zabinis were traditionally an Italian family but my Father moved over to England at a young age, because it suited him better. There he met my mother Rosalynn D'Amray and they got hitched and produced me and Nikolas. Hoo. There is a seven year age gap between me and my brother, so as you can imagine, we don't get on.

Father was still waiting for my compliance, his face started to turn pink across the cheeks and his eyes darkening. Better go. I grabbed Mother by the arm and dragged her to the fireplace. 'Quick Mother or we'll be late!' I muttered and grabbing a handful of floo powder, chucked it into the flames: 'Diagon Alley!' The last thing I saw was Mother craning her head at me weirdly before shooting upwards into the floo network.

I dislike the floo network, I find the spinning and shooting upwards at breakneck speeds rather unnerving, just as the awkward and sudden landing. I braced myself––

And landed on both feet! Hoo!

––And stumbled into the person in front of me, nearly knocking them over.

'Oh Merlin, sorry!' I gasped, quickly righting myself; I look up and find I have fallen into no other than Boy Wonder himself. Hoo. Go me.

He stared at me strangely with those bright green eyes, I tilted my chin up and said in my iciest tone of voice (imitated off of Uncle Lucius), 'My apologies Potter, it won't happen again. Now excuse me, you're in my way.' Then I pushed past him and into the street, all the while the voice in my head applauding and shouting 'Brilliant recovery, Blaise! Simply superb!'

Mother soon came bustling up to me, clutch bag in hand and smoothing her cloak out. 'You do know that young man's staring at you back there?'

I sniffed and turned around. If looks could kill, Potter would be on trial for murder now. I ignored the fact that he seemed to be trying to burn a hole in my back with the sheer force of his glare, and followed Mother up the street towards Gringotts, where the Parkinson's awaited us.

Pansy and her mother looked as if they had been stood there a while, whilst Pamela, her mother sent us a false friendly smile, Pansy sent me a look of intense dislike. I should definitely win the Miss Popular award for today. It was only when Pansy greeted me with a sneer that I realised I had forgotten to look at Nikolas's book. Damn.

You would think that Pansy and I would be good friends, considering the fact that she is Slytherin, like me. However, Pansy Parkinson is a selfish cow–– well, all Slytherins are selfish but she more than others. The reason she dislikes me, is the fact that she thinks I have a 'thing' with a Mr Draco Malfoy. First off: Shudder! Secondly: We are cousins. Third: Draco is a friend and there is no way that it will become anything more. Me going out with Draco Malfoy would be as unlikely as me fallen head over heels for Gryffindor Wonder Boy. Yeuch. That unlikely.

However Pansy doesn't seem to think so, but ah well, I can't help it if I'm better looking than her. Mind you, anything is preferable to her pug-like face. So therefore me and Pansy don't get on, she thinks I fancy Draco, I can't be bothered to tell her otherwise and take great pleasure when I see her making a fool of herself to get Draco's attention–– Which happens a least once a week at Hogwarts. And also when she starts simpering at Draco, quite sickening but in a way satisfying when you're in a mood with Draco.

Meanwhile Mother was giving Mrs Parkinson our excuses. 'Oh, I am sorry, Pamela darling! The floo network, such a drag! Had us queuing for nearly ten minutes!'

'Really? I've never heard of that before,' said Mrs Parkinson, frowning.

'I know! Simply awful isn't it?'

I rolled my eyes and turned to Pansy.

'So Pansy, heard the news? Awful about that dementor attack, isn't it?'

Pansy stared at me suspiciously, 'Yes, I suppose so,' she said finally.

'Isn't it?' I exclaimed, putting a hand over my heart, doing a brilliant impersonation of Mother. I truly have dramatic flair. 'When I heard––' I broke off and looked down as if the news had hurt me. 'Well, when I heard, I remembered that time in third year, you remember don't you?'

Pansy's voice went flat, 'What about it?'

I giggled, 'When Goyle went to lick the ice off the window, and his tongue got stuck…'

'Oh that,' she replied, forcing a laugh. 'I don't really remember much of–'

'But you must! I do, it was awfully scary, but really bad for you because––'

'Blaise––' Pansy interrupted desperately.

'You WET yourself!'

This was said loud enough that several passers by turned to look at us. Pansy had turned a beet red and was glaring at me; her mother and mine had turned to look at us. I continued as if I hadn't shouted out an incredibly embarrassing secret. 'I mean, you were only 13 at the time so that's understandable, they have such a terrible effect on people.' I patted her hand sympathetically. 'But don't worry Pans, your secrets safe with me.' I smiled beatifically and left Pansy, glowering at me with her face aflame. 'I'm just going to get some things! I'll be back later!' I called over my shoulder, hurrying off into the crowd. I don't think I was meant to have left Pansy on her lonesome, or rather, that Mother and Mrs Parkinson had entertained the idea that we would walk about town with each other. I left them no chance to catch me up.

One thing's for sure though, when I got home I would be in for it.

But until then… I think I'll try find a more advanced book on hexing spells.

Yes, SIASD is being edited and updated, so reviews with CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM :P is welcome.