The Multiple Attemps of Lysander Scamander to Get a Girlfriend
Chapter One
Lysander stared at the Moccasin twins, each with long, ebony hair and a smile that could melt glaciers. He was going to go talk to them, he had been working on his confidence all weekend. Puffing out his chest, he strutted towards them, the way Biff Hudsplow – the burly captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team - did whenever he was going to ask a girl out.
He felt a tiny object hit his n ape just as he had almost reached his quarry, and he lost his balance in trying to see what it was. Sprawled on the ground, he saw that the thing that had hit him was a Fizzing Whizbee. But that didn't matter to him anymore. What mattered was that several students were laughing at him, Melissa and Celery Moccasin being two of the loudest in their mirth.
Lysander tried to stand up several times, but the incessant laughter caused him to fall back down again over and over. When he finally uprighted himself, he ran down the stairs to his next class, Potions.
He read the instructions for the Mimicry Potion on the board and began gathering the ingredients: armadillo bile, toadstools, murkwood bark, etc. The fact that this was not a lecture day cheered him up a bit; he did not feel like listening to Professor Hunflox talk about her thousand-and-one cats and how having felines around made one a better Potioneer than having toads or mice would.
He had just reached the fourth item of the list of instructione ("Stir in a pint of roxberry extract seven times counter-clockwise") when he heard a commotion coming from two tables in front of him.
"What is this?" Professor Humflox said sternly, pulling a magazine out of a girl's hands. "Witch Weekly? Let's see the article that was so engrossing your attention, shall we? 'How to Woo a Wizard: Get the Man You Want Without Resorting to Love Potions.'"
The professor looked as if she had a tic in her eye as she read aloud a few sentences. "'Obviously you don't wanna go with Amortentia, because Rita Skeeter's book Merope Gaunt: Mother of Yout-Know-Who, shows that the use of that potion was how the mother of the most evil wizard who ever lived got the father of the aforementioned wizard to climb in bed with her.'"
"Angus, what do you have to say for yourself?"
"Coconuts are better male-bait than tennis balls?" the girl offered, sheepishly.
"Back of the room with Scamander."
"But Professor—"
"No buts, missy. If you protest further, I will extend your three-day detention to a two-weeks' detention."
"You hadn't said anything about detention before."
"Well, I'm telling you now, aren't I?"
"Yes, Professor," the girl muttered, before collecting her stuff and coming toward Lysander's table.
He couldn't believe it. Phoebe Angus at his table! A miracle greater than any he had experienced before. To be alone with Phoebe Angus, even if it was in a classroom full of other students; they were still alone by anyone else's standards, since most of the time people pretended Lysander's table wasn't even there.
Lysander watched Phoebe as she began working on her potion. Lorcan had told him that what girls liked was confidence, so all he had to do was say what was on his mind.
"Hey, if you want a boyfriend, I'm available," Lysander said.
Phoebe turned to him, looking as though she hadn't understood what he said. "What?'
"You and me, you know. We could have something together."
"In what alternate universe are you living in, dweeb? I wouldn't listen to the advice in Witch Weekly if I thought the only guy they could help me get was a cockroach like you."
Lysander turned back to his potion, feeling singed. Of course Phoebe Angus would never date him. No girl ever would.