Sneering Slytherins, riddling mysteries, mysterious riddles, irritating girls and back-chatting doorknockers. Some parts of Hogwarts never change. What's a girl to do?
A/N: I altered the setting for this story slightly so I could make it funnier and more interesting –at least for me ;) Meg is in her 6th year with the main characters; and Lupin is teaching DADA but Snape is splitting Potions with Slughorn so they have alternating lessons. Sorry if you absolutely appalled by that! At least this way I managed to squeeze Lupin in somewhere along the line... which will make someone happy.
PPS: I am so sorry for all the obvious and somewhat awful jokes that are littered in this 'story'. I have to get it out of my system somewhere.
Wherein a pygmy puff supposedly reaches a sticky end
Up to my ears in dirt; muck under my fingernails, I figured there were many better and less melancholy things to be doing with my time than digging a grave.
But I was not one for moaning, especially as the reason for necessity of a grave had been entirely my fault.
So, unperturbed and grumpy, I half-heartedly dragged a mound of dirt over the ever-growing new lump, as if I were making a somewhat twisted sandcastle.
I jumped.
"What the hell are you doing?"
It wasn't the voice that had made me jump, more the flicker of movement as the pile of dirt moved slightly.
"Crap!" I exclaimed, falling backwards. The ground below me emitted a wet thud, and I winced as dew seeped through my skirt.
"Please tell me that's not a person you killed." The voice was damned persistent. I turned to address it.
"I don't actually think it's dead." I said, indicating the disturbed pile.
"No," Agreed Terry Boot, weakly, leaning on the fence that bordered Hagrid's pumpkins from the outside world, "What is it anyway?"
"It was –or is – my sister's pet," I explained tiredly, deliberating on uncovering the bloody thing again.
"An owl?" Terry suddenly looked pale.
"No," I muttered, starting to dig once more; suffocating under a pile of soil couldn't be the best way to go, "It would have been less dead if it was; I accidentally pushed it off the divination tower."
I could see my friends was deliberating on whether this was a laughing matter or not. Forcing more dirt under my already caked fingernails, I pulled the source of all this trouble free.
"How the hell did you survive that fall?" I spluttered at the bedraggled pygmy puff.
I think this may have been all too much for Terry, for when I turned round to query the before unknown strength and impossibly flexible anatomy of the miniature puffskein, he had walked –or ran- away.
Thoroughly annoyed at the now needless grave for coating me in soggy mud, I staggered to my feet, hoping Hagrid didn't see me walking guiltily from his pumpkin patch, the pygmy puff encased between my fingers.
It had not been the best of mornings, I concluded, walking up through the rain covered grounds in the direction of the castle. A morning of Divination could never promise hours of fun, or even consciousness; but accidentally flicking the personality-starved pet that was supposed to be in my care for the day out of the open window had definitely given it a higher ranking in bad days at Hogwarts. And as guilt had led me to try burying the wretched thing, I was now irritated that even that had been denied me.
"Where are your eyes, anyway?" I said to what could only be described as a ball of fluff, holding it up for examination. It didn't oblige to inform me.
If pygmy puffs could actually talk, I wouldn't have caught the answer anyway. A loud series of gongs swept over the grounds from the clock tower and I swore. Late for potions. Again.
The loud slapping of feet against flagstones announced my belated arrival to the most dreaded class of any Hogwarts student; except perhaps a given number of Slytherins. I could tell I was in deep trouble; Professor Snape actually broke off what he was saying midstream.
"Which incidentally-but let me just wait for Miss Forester to sit down before I continue," His black eyes glittered as I shuffled forwards, trying to appear sorry. Heads swivelled round to look at me, and with a sheepish grin, I slid onto the bench beside Terry Boot, who offered me a smirk,
"How nice to honour us with your presence," Snape was still giving me a mocking welcome, to which I had accidentally tuned out of; "Five points from Ravenclaw."
With the inevitable outcome over and me not apologizing for my tardiness (I think anyone would agree my excuse was perfectly legitimate) I plopped the pygmy puff on the table and dumped parchment and books on the desk before me. The loud clang it made against the cauldron caused Snape to give me a withering look. Shrinking down slightly, I decided now was a better time than any to pay attention to the lesson.
"I tried to tell him you had a pet crisis," Terry muttered to me under his breath, fighting a grin as he kept his eyes on the chalk board, "But he just wouldn't hear it."
I sniggered.
"Have I ever told you that you are really weird?" He added, beginning to scratch some notes down with his quill.
"Plenty of times," I grinned, looking to see what thrilling topic we were going to be learning about today.
It turned out concocting a Deflating Draught was not at all thrilling. Perched on the stepladder, I stared blankly at the list of ingredients swimming before me; their contents swirling sickeningly before me like some pudding well past its sell-by date.
"Do I need Runespoor Egg or Flobberworm Mucus?" I shot in the direction of the nearest person. It was unfortunate that person just happened to be Draco Malfoy, who was lounging against the shelves while Pansy Parkinson selected what he needed for the lesson.
He gave me one of his signature sneers before replying. He had never liked me since that Flying Seahorse incident.
"I thought you were a Ravenclaw?" He smirked, "Perhaps you could keep that vacant expression and the Sorting Hat will know where it went wrong."
"Meaning?" I asked, knowing full well where he was going as I selected Horklump juice on a whim.
"Meaning you look like a Hufflepuff."
Shooting him a 'you'll have to do much better than that' look, I hopped off the ladder and headed back to my desk.
"What is the immortal puffball's name, anyway?" Terry asked when I had sat down again.
"Um... I think it's Fitzwilliam," I looked up to see Terry looking at me with nothing less that complete incredulity.
"My sister likes Pride and Prejudice." I added, then as he continued to look like a stunned doxy; "A muggle book."
A snort issued from in front of me, and I looked at the blonde haired boy sitting there, his back to me,
"Not a fan of the romantic classics, Malfoy?"
Malfoy turned round so he could give me a sneer.
"Don't talk to her, Draco," Pansy sniffed, grabbing his arm in an attempt to turn him round, "She's a Ravenclaw loser."
"At least my potion is not on fire." I commented.
A few minutes later, after Pansy's potion had been doused and she had stopped wailing, I was looking at the list of instructions on the blackboard with the determined air of someone who was failing dramatically but certainly not going to admit it. Malfoy was right; I was supposed to be in Ravenclaw. But that didn't make the jumble of words any clearer. And where on earth did I put the Flobberworm Mucus?
"Having trouble?" Terry's voice was kind, but I still bristled. I preferred to sort out problems by myself.
"Perhaps," I admitted, glaring at the blackboard for being so confusing. There was not a chance in hell I was asking Snape for help.
"You need to put the Billywig sting slime in before the Horklump juice," He told me kindly, pointing to the jar I had placed before me a few moments ago.
"When do I put in the Wiggentree bark?" I asked. I had dropped it in my potion earlier, but I couldn't remember why. I'm sure the smoke in this classroom addled my brains.
"You don't."
"Damn it."
Terry choked on a laugh and stirred his potion. Looking bitterly at his, I resisted the urge to slap him,
"Hang on... I'll give you a hand."
"Wait!" I didn't really mean to shout out the word, but right then I didn't particularly care, "Where is Fitzwilliam?"
I could hear Malfoy starting to snicker in front of me as I put my hands on my head, eyes frantically searching the desk before me. Parchment, quill, lumps of the odd imp gall. No pygmy puff.
"Are you sure it didn't take a fall?" Pansy said, turning round to give me a nasty grin, "I heard you were digging graves today, Forester. Isn't that a bit morbid?"
I didn't hear her, still looking at the desk in vain. My eyes fell on the bubbling cauldron.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God," I moaned, pressing my fingers to my eyelids.
"What?" Terry asked, looking from me to the cauldron.
"I think," I said, peering through my interlaced fingers at the frothing liquid, "That I may have just cooked my sister's pygmy puff."
Malfoy and Pansy fell about laughing, causing the other Sytherins to look up at the prospect of mockery. Unable to believe the day I was having, looking after what was supposed to have been the easiest pet to keep in the world; I sat there, my head in my hands. Terry didn't say anything; I could tell he was trying to keep a straight face. How the hell was I going to tell Jade that her beloved pygmy puff was now aiding things in deflating? Although I think I was flattering myself; the potion probably couldn't even do that.
"Miss Forester," Snape's voice broke into my despair. I peered at him through my fingers, and jerked back in astonishment, "If I find this in my classroom again I shall personally make sure you will have to brew a potion with this as the main ingredient."
My mouth was open as he dropped Fitzwilliam in front of me, the purple ball of fluff edging towards my books with what may have been an interested expression if the poor thing had been blessed with a face.
I exhaled in relief, giving Malfoy a delighted grin,
"That's not possible!" I told him gleefully. He pulled a face at me to show just how much he couldn't care before turning back to show Snape his completed potion.
"I think that thing should be taken off you," Terry said, chuckling as he heaped some Horklump Juice into my potion. I was too pleased to berate him for helping me.
The class ended with Snape awarding a ridiculous amount of points to Slytherin for Malfoy's 'flawless' Deflating Draft, and him then taking away a ridiculous amount of points from Gryffindor because Harry Potter had looked at him strangely.
With the minority looking smug and everyone else muttering, I left the classroom, cradling the luckiest pygmy puff in the world.