Muhahahahaha….I have returned! And—my work is not crap this time! My name is Smileyfacedudet and I'm too sexy for my pantz! So you are about to venture into the great story of…
Summary: Alas! My trouble with the Marauders, especially with Mr. Pot-head, continues, and I, an innocent little flower… .:Lily Evans has always been greatly irritated by the Marauders, particularly James Potter. This story, starting in their sixth year at Hogwarts School of wizardry one month before the Christmas holiday, tells about how she copes with these trouble makers and finds herself entangled in a deep mystery. This mystery includes her theory of a student or teacher at Hogwarts being a werewolf…She just doesn't know who.
The sun shone brightly into the great window in the halls of the enchanted castle. Blazing in on the students who scattered by, the same sun glared down upon four sixteen year old boys who were almost certainly up to no good. Laughing, they stood ever so pleasantly, not aware of the sun glaring down so heavily upon their mischievous yet angelic faces. They all had dismissed the fact that it was a late Thursday afternoon and, lazily poised, talked about only the Lord knows what. One was pointing at the lake containing the giant squid making odd hand gestures, hard to understand without hearing the actual words accompanying the gestures.
This one, who started to pretend choking himself, obviously making alien-like gagging noises too, was tall, lean, and handsome. He had coal black hair with the same color glistening in his eyes. Yes, true to all the girls at this strange school where misgiving things tended to happen, he was quite the looker. Only a few girls, who were at the disadvantage, were not whatsoever charmed by his quick, sly smile and sneaky hands.
The next boy standing next to the "quite the looker" one was somewhat short, a bit chubby, but not as bad looking as some other boys his age. Brown hair plastered to his face in a curly boyish style, for he was the youngest of the four friends. He did have a nose that seemed a bit too small for his young face and he seemed to let out too many odd squeaks, especially around the female gender.
Standing next to the "odd squeaking" boy, and a bit off to the side, as if he were on the sidelines of an athletic game, was another boy with blonde hair. His hair was not as long as the "quite a looker" boy, whose hair stood as a fancy wave about an inch above his shoulders, but it still, had a handsome feature to it. Hidden beneath the shirt he was wearing could have been some nice muscles, but his quiet and secretive eyes stood as a reason for hiding them—he did not want to be noticed, but preferred to be overshadowed by his friends.
Lastly, standing between the "preferred to be overshadowed" boy and the "quite the looker" boy, was a tall, handsome boy with wonderful features. Like the "quite the looker" boy, he too had magical charm, but unlike the "odd squeaking" boy—he was very familiar with the female population in such a different way. Jet black hair crowned his head, but it was not tidy whatsoever, seeing that a large, pretty—yes, hands could be pretty!—hand ran through it often during the day, and possibly when he was unconscious as well. Dazzling hazel eyes were hidden beneath the sleek, kind of cool looking glasses.
The sun especially glared down with absolute rage at this one. What a horrid boy he was, just horrible! All of nature frowned at the damage he had caused throughout his years at Hogwarts. How could anybody actually like such an airhead? Well, he wasn't really an airhead, seeing that he always passed his classes with flying scores even though students rarely saw him study.
"Er, Lily. Are you alright?" I realized that I had been glaring out the window as if I was in some contest.
"Lily…."
I look up to see Alice standing a couple feet away, staring at me oddly—yes, my precious. Right…Well then. That was not my highest moment of the day. I look unblinkingly into her eyes, realizing I must have gone into another of my strange rants about…that boy. "Yes, Ali," I say calmly, for we, her lovely yet odd friends, call her Ali instead of her given name: Alice. "I am quite fine." She cautiously looks from me to the window, making sure I really am fine, before walking gracefully back to her chair by the fire and, cuddling up into a comfortable position, begins reading in her book where she left off when she came to check on me.
Alice Harlem is a slim, tall, light brown-haired girl. She has a nice gracious tan, that I ever so dearly desire, and she has huge, gorgeous brown eyes. Graceful as a swan, she is, and if she had an animagus, it would be a swan. A sigh escapes my lips as I watch her lovely face entranced with the book, and her beautiful, red lips barely mouth each of the words. Oh, if only I were as beautiful as she—but no I'm but an ugly carrot. Short and stocky with my head afire: yep, that sure as bloody hell is me!
Disheartened, I looked out the window again, only to find the four boys, who would almost certainly be up to no good, gone. They were the Marauders. Catchy name, huh? Well, it fits them perfectly. Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin, and—oh!—that James Bloody Potter. Peter was a sweet boy, who would be on my good list if only he hadn't attached his nice little self to the boys. Remus Lupin was hard not to like—he was just, well, likeable. Anybody who had the tiniest fragment of a heart would instantly fall in love with him. I just could not figure out why he hung around with the rest, but even so he is a Prefect and somewhat of a friend to me. Now, Sirius Black—what a conniving little devil! His favorite hobby was to snog off the mouths of poor, innocent girls who most certainly needed a visit to the cuckoo's nest for even letting him touch them.
These three of the Marauders were, to say, the least of my problems. Their little bloody piece of dung—yeah, that's right, dung, as in d-u-n-g—of a leader, James sod-off-my-arse Potter is the most despicable sixteen-year-old sixth year student at Hogwarts School of Wizardry I have ever come across! Really, he needs to get a life. You heard me—Potter needs to GET A LIFE! And while he's at it, he might as well—
"Er, Lily?"
"What!" I ferociously yelled into the face of a tall, lean sixteen year old boy. His face was pale and his brown eyes seemed a bit frightened. He had a small nose with a huge mouth. Biting my lip, I felt ashamed. This was Frank Longbottom. Kind and caring, with a crush on the beautifully gorgeous Alice Harlem, though neither of them would ever admit it; Frank was a good friend of mine and I immediately regretted snapping at him when he most certainly was not—
"Evans, go out with me?" That voice, that horrid miserable voice. If only I could jump up at the demon and strangle him without having any witnesses, but heads were already lifting up and attention was already being directed towards me. Looking up at the oh so familiar face that brought me such misery, I could barely control myself. He stood next to Frank Longbottom, who began to immediately back up a little so as I would not miss aim and begin to throttle him instead of Potter. Potter's crony, Black, stood a little ways off trying to charm a fifth year Gryffindor girl, while Remus had taken interest in a book, sitting in a chair near Alice, and Peter stood next to him a bit too fascinated by his feet.
Standing up, I turned to Frank and smiled sweetly, "Yes, Frank? Did you need me for something?" I questioned him softly, without any hatred and anger etching into my wonderfully calm voice. Mentally patting myself on the back for not exploding in Potter's face, as he surely intended, I smiled even more innocently.
"Well, er, I was wondering," Frank began, glancing behind me fearfully, "If you could look over my Transfiguration essay for me?" Looking down, I realized he was holding parchment with his neat handwriting covering it, sure to be plentiful with words that would attract an A. My smile broadened and I gently took the paper from his large hand.
"I would love to, Frank, dear." Gliding, or at least attempting to, towards the stairs to the girls dormitories, I beamed at my success. But the pride came all too soon for me.
"I certainly praise you, Evans. That must have certainly taken a lot of effort." Daring and troubling me to the heart, the voice was a cool drawl—one that had no emotion in it whatsoever. Abruptly halting, I stood still. I swear: no one dared make one sound, not even a mouse. The fire roared within me, along with the fire in the fireplace warming Gryffindor students. My whole body screamed, trying to force me not to reply. I just couldn't bare it, though. That hand sliding through his messy hair that still looked so handsome, his lopsided grin, his eyes which mocked me to the point of ultimate humiliation, and his stupid voice, challenging to take on the impossible. Why? Why did he have so much power over me? Perhaps I could have ignored him, but it was too hard. No matter how firm I stood my ground, I still could not resist the urge.
"Bugger off, Potter." My voice—it scared me. It was chilled and cold, cold! I couldn't believe it had sounded so…hateful? That's it. I gave him what he wanted. Now I would walk out of the room and he and his friends would laugh at me. Way to go, Potter! You managed to humiliate me again! I just did not understand why he bothered me so much—why what he did and thought mattered to me. So, feeling defeated I quickly left the room, in a quite stiff manner, such as McGonagall.
For some reason, as I shut the door behind me—I did not slam it—tears began to tumble down my face. I could not stop them and I felt as if a giant hand had squeezed all the air out of me. Why did I feel like this? It couldn't have been because of Potter, I never breakdown after having any kind of feud with him, I am only a bit angry. Just as I sat down on my bed, Anna Fletcher, one of my good friends, walked in the room. Short black hair draped down right below her shoulders with a slight curl. Tall and slender, like Alice, she was also of the athletic build and perfected the Gryffindor Quidditch team as a chaser. The only characteristic I did not like about this friend of mine was that she was friends with everybody who would be friends with her, even some of the Slytherins. This meant that she actually more than put up with Potter; she actually liked him. They had gone out for a period of time in fifth year, but after weeks of my complaining, Susan decided to let James Potter continue tormenting me, of course this is not want I had wanted. Now in our sixth year, he hardly lets me alone and it bugs me greatly that Anna sometimes talks with him as if he were a friend. In truth, he was a friend to her.
"Hey Lily, is James bugging you again?" she questioned in her smooth voice. Was he bugging me? Oh, more than that! I despised him with every tiny morsel inside of me, and he knew this—yet, oh woe I, Potter would never dare to stop with his taunts.
"Oh, not at all! As if I would even think to pay attention to him in the first place."
"Lily, really, tell the truth. I heard and saw him as well as I heard and saw you." She claimed in her overly dramatic voice. This was really going a bit too far—why did it matter if Potter ruined my life? Alright, perhaps that did matter. But still…Why was she making such a big deal out of this?
"Lily?" she looked at me as I stared dumbly at her. What? I didn't feel like talking right now. Lying down and facing the other direction, I heard footsteps and the door closing. Tired, I began to drift off to sleep. Only then, when I was about to cheerfully enter the world of dreams, did I hear the door open quickly and slammed shut. Loud panting met my ears as I sat up, wondering who in their right mind dared to disturb me at such a time as this. Standing in front of me was a short girl, just a bit taller than me—yes! To my utter despair I am a shrunken dwarf!—with brown hair that bounced in loose curls down to her shoulders, not quite touching them. Her sapphire eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and her plump lips formed the perfect smile on her round and gorgeous face.
Only two words fully described this girl—Lucy Valdes. She was my dearest friend here at Hogwarts, School of Wizardry. Even if she did not really mind the marauders, she still supported me in every way she could. As the most sensible and sweetest one, she was the fun loving and still-a-kid friend people cherished the most. Right at this moment, her eyes danced merrily and a sweet smile played onto her lips as she looked at me.
"What?" I questioned, partly fearful of the look she gave me. Obviously, she had been up to something—something not necessarily good. The smile that had played onto her lips suddenly grew and she began to snicker, her eyes dancing.
"Sirius Black read aloud from Delilah Calvins' Diary." She began to laugh hysterically, except her hysterical laughter was quite pleasant, it sounded like bells ever-so-elegantly jiggling. Only she could pull off this type of beautiful laughter. To the point of concern at the current moment—Delilah. She was a sixth year girl in Hufflepuff. Light blonde hair curled around her face with the small nose and horribly fake-looking blue eyes. Complete with two non-stop giggling best friends: Patsy and Haiti, she stood as the Barbie mascot of the school. And what a horrible mascot she was! Even though I despised her giggling self very much, I could not see the humor in the situation.
"And what's so funny about this?" I questioned, clearly not interested in the doings of the Marauders, especially at this precise moment. Obviously, my dear friend did not get the hint as I stared at her unblinkingly, and the result: she pulled me off of the bed, dragging me down to the common room.
"His hair is so amazingly hot, diary. Sometimes I wish I could touch it," I heard his voice before I even entered the room, though upon entering I resisted greatly. "But of course, nothing could match the looks of James Potter—hey!" I saw Potter shrugging jokingly as he stood next to Black. Still not seeing the humor, I glanced at Blacks other side to see a very unnerving commotion happening. The Marauders had obviously bribed a couple of fifth and fourth year boys to do the unthinkable. Three were dressed oddly, looking dreadfully familiar to Delilah, Patsy and Haiti seeming to fawn over two pictures most likely taken of Potter and Black.
Continuing, Black exaggerated, "Oh, but he's fixed on that horrid flower girl." What flower girl? Really, I did not see the point in this, though the sight of the three boys did look ridiculously hilarious. "I really don't see why he's interested in her," Black said in his fake female voice—a great mimic of Delilah's real voice. "Her head looks as if it's on fire." Wait…that sounded all too familiar. "Besides, she's so short and has her head in the clouds. Little ungrateful prick, she just does not have any sense of style. What he sees in Ms. Carrot Top, I'll never know." From the corner of my eye, I saw Potter stiffen slightly. I certainly was stiff. How dare she? This could not be good for my ego. "Seriously, someone of James' style and looks should not chase after such a hag. Ugly duckling for sure, that's why her sister hates her, I bet."
I had had enough. Whether they were trying to embarrass me or her, I did not care. Right now, my reputation was in the process of destruction. Gliding through the audience that had gathered throughout the silly, childlike performance, I let my shadow bare down on Black, although I was much shorter than him. Frightened under my intimidating glare, he practically shivered. Snatching the stupid diary from his hands, I marched out of the room, not caring about the few who dared snicker in my presence. What an awful day this was turning into. And all of it went to blame the Marauders.
Why they had to humiliate me in the process of someone else's shame, I don't know. Really, what did I ever do to deserve this? The only thing I can think of was when I stole a cookie from the kitchen and blamed Petunia. But is this all just karma? I don't think so. See, that James Potter seems to literally feed off of my mortification. It's as if he lives to tease me and ruin my life—why? If only I knew. As I was deep in my thoughts, contemplating whether Potter was just amused by my shame or if he actually had some secret mission that involved turning my life into complete misery, Lucy walked into our corridors. She looked quite funny. A straight mouth with frowning eyebrows and a disapproving look in her eyes covered her face. I did everything to just keep from smiling—Lucy never could pull off a serious face quite right, and it pained her greatly.
"I am terribly sorry, Lily!" she fell onto my lap in a dramatic style. Poor girl, she was just not the serious type whatsoever. At least she was trying for my sake. "I truly did not know they would do such a terrible, awful, horrifying thing! Truthfully, I don't think they even read over her diary before their little performance. It's just it was extremely comical at first."
"It's alright, dear," I tried to comfort her. What a deprived child! Didn't she understand that I could never be mad at her?
"No it's not alright! I cannot believe…" Lucy continued to babble on endlessly. Now this was getting a bit tiring. While she continued to mumble about how sorry she was, I began to compare Anne Frayne's transfiguration essay to mine. She had asked me to read it for her, probably showing off and thinking it was perfect or something. Well, her essay was pretty good, but nothing could ever compare to my essay. Imprudent girl! She'll never know what hit her!
"Lily! Are you even listening to me?" Err…………"Lily…are you in there? Hello!" Lucy began to wave her hand in front of my face talking strangely. Yes. I am in here…Can you hear me? Wow, I have peculiar friends.
"Sorry, Lucy. I guess I zoned out for a second. Really, though, you should not trouble yourself over an apology. It wasn't your fault. And I'm not really perturbed at all. Truthfully." Well, maybe a bit perturbed…Alright, I admit: I am completely enraged by the whole situation. But, I'm not angry with Lucy—the marauders are the target of my fury, as usual. At least Christmas would be a break from the stress they brought me. The last couple of years, the Marauders had gone away for the Christmas holiday, thank God, and during the first two years when they did not, I had went home. Finally, when I had stopped returning home for the Christmas holidays, it was fourth year, and they continued their tradition to meet at Pot-head's house for the holiday. One more month…
"I guess, but if I hadn't pulled you into the common room…"
"I would have showed up at Breakfast tomorrow morning with me not knowing why the whole Gryffindor table was laughing at me. Seriously, it's not your fault, and I am glad that I was able to interfere. Now, I am a bit tired and would like to get some sleep. Night, Luce." Wow, I'm not really a bit tired, I'm exhausted. This certainly has been an odd day.
There it is—the first chapter of my beautiful story. Please let me know how it went…by REVIEWING. Seriously, reviews make me feel better inside.
Smileyfacedudet:.