A/N: Written by Chaser 1 of Pride of Portree for Round 11
Prompts: Alihotsy Draught, start and end with the same word
Optional prompts: dominoes, pancakes, frost
Word count: 2481
Thank you to my lovely teammates for betaing this for me.
Hamilton: A Challenge - 2. Aaron Burr, Sir: [character] Marauders, or just Sirius
Lily sat down at the Gryffindor table and, with a small sigh, pulled a few pancakes onto her plate. As she drizzled maple syrup over her breakfast, she tried to ignore the annoying, incessant voice coming from beside her. Potter had intercepted her as she was leaving the common room and, despite her hints that she had been hoping for some quiet time, had refused to leave her alone since. He was like a mosquito that never knew when to give up; sooner or later, she would grow tired of swatting him away and would turn to more pointed measures.
You're a prefect now, she reminded herself, her hand drifting to the badge that she had worn every day for the past month. It was both an honour and a chore, filling her with pride even as she struggled with her new duties. When the Daily Prophet had published the list of new fifth year prefects, they had made a sly aside questioning her suitability for the position — and then had been inundated with write-in responses expressing concern that the position would be too exacting for someone without 'proper knowledge of how the wizarding world worked'. The paper had only printed a select few comments, and the blood prejudice had shone through each and every one, but she had no doubt that any errors Gryffindor made throughout the year would be blamed on her. So she was determined to prove them wrong by becoming the best prefect Gryffindor had ever seen.
But she was still working out what that meant when it came to dealing with the infuriating James Potter.
"Potter," she muttered, so quietly that nobody else would be able to hear her, "don't you have your own friends to bother?"
Cutting himself off midway through his none-too-subtle spiel about all of the interesting places one could go to on a date in wizarding Britain, Potter grinned at her as if the tension in her voice had flown straight past him. "I'm a likeable guy, Evans; I have plenty of friends. It's just that none of them are anywhere near as pretty as you."
She rolled her eyes but was saved from answering by Black's indignant, "Oi!"
"You think you're prettier?" Remus asked, his voice laced with amusement.
Black stared at him like he was an idiot. "Better than that; I know it."
Hiding a smile, Lily turned back to her breakfast. With any luck, Potter would be so distracted by his friends' antics that he would forget all about her.
Hopefully, forever, she thought, rather pleased at the prospect. She reached for the jug of pumpkin juice to pour herself some, only to have her hand knocked away at the last second.
"What are you doing, Potter?"
He leaned in to whisper, "You don't want to drink that. Trust me."
Her hackles raised at the idea of him telling her what she wanted, but something about his tone stayed her response. He had sounded almost conspiratorial, as if he were telling her a secret that he knew he shouldn't. Knowing Potter and his little gang, it was probably something important. She sighed in resignation. "Why?"
"You just don't. You'll understand soon enough."
"Can I eat my breakfast, at least?" she asked, gesturing to the pancakes that were still sitting, untouched, on her plate. "Or is something wrong with that as well?"
He beamed at her. "Why, I would never presume to tell a witch what to eat."
Yet you presume an awful lot of things about me. "Thank you for the warning. Now, if you'll excuse me —"
"I would like to propose a toast!" Black shouted as he rose to his feet, a glass of pumpkin juice in hand. His voice drowned out the chatter of the students in the Great Hall, who all fell silent at his words. "To our esteemed headmaster, Albus Dumbledore!"
The man in question peered down his half-moon spectacles at the young Gryffindor. "I am flattered, Mr Black, but it is hardly necessary."
"But I insist, sir," Black said, bowing with a dramatic flourish.
The headmaster's mouth remained stoic, but his eyes twinkled. "Let it never be said that I am one to deny an act of kindness — or a good toast."
Lily's eyes narrowed as she saw Potter's face contort into a smug smirk. She knew that look. They had known that the headmaster would be charmed by the action; they had counted on it.
What was in the pumpkin juice?
All around her, students filled their glasses with the orange liquid and raised them in the air like a salute. Lily's heart pounded in her chest like a drum as her gaze darted around the room. It would be easy to speak out, but she knew that nobody would believe her. The Marauders constantly alternated between cruel pranks and good-natured dramatics, and all she had to prove that this was the former was a quiet aside.
Her hand shook with frustration as she filled and raised her own glass, taking solace in the knowledge that the Marauders wouldn't do anything that would cause permanent damage. No matter what Sev said, she knew they had standards. Low standards, perhaps, but standards nonetheless.
"To Headmaster Dumbledore," echoed throughout the hall.
She raised the glass to her lips and held it there for a few moments before setting it down again. Beside her, Potter did the same.
The next instant, one student cried out, and then another, and then another. It swept through the hall like dominoes until most of the students — and all of the staff except the headmaster himself — were in hysterics, fanning themselves with their napkins and clutching at their neighbours for support. All around her, people gushed and ranted about every topic from the sun, from upcoming tests to how cute cats were to worries about spinsterhood.
One boy even started bawling about the weather that day.
The weather.
It seemed like any concerns the students had were being amplified to the point where they would burst if they didn't get them out right away.
Groaning, Lily massaged her temples, trying to stave off an oncoming headache. "Tests aren't the end of the world. Do your best, but there will always be another chance. Yes, cats are cute — but not that cute. And you're only sixteen, for goodness' sake," she said.
Or, rather, that was what she would have said if the people around her had been in a rational state of mind. Unfortunately, she knew that no amount of reasoning would talk them down from their hysteria. Instead, she held her tongue as she surveyed the scene that was unfolding around her.
To her surprise, Sirius Black was among those affected. She had thought that he would abstain from the juice as well, but he was the most dramatic of the lot, throwing himself towards a laughing Peter as he lamented how few hours each day had. "Imagine all of the extra pranking we could do!"
A sense of dread settled over Lily as the pieces fell into place. But before she could confirm her theory with Potter, the headmaster's amplified voice rang out over the din.
"Oh, dear," he said, his tone milder than Lily would have expected, given the current situation. "Every professor hopes they will be liked by the student cohort, but this is quite something else, isn't it? I'm afraid I don't know whether to feel honoured or terrified." After a pause, he added, "In any case, there is no need to panic. I have sent a message to Madam Pomfrey. Between the two of us, you will be back to your usual selves in no time at all."
With that, he waved his wand and turned back to Professor McGonagall, whose hands were flying about with uncharacteristic rigour.
Lily glared at Potter, who was laughing so hard that he fit right in with their over-the-top classmates. "Did you spike the pumpkin juice with Alihotsy Draught?" she asked, her voice as cold and biting as the early morning frost. It was an easy potion to make, despite its catastrophic effects, so Professor Slughorn had told them he was saving it for a treat after they had finished the rest of the curriculum for the year. Potter's friends, it seemed, had decided to give the entire castle an early viewing.
"Yes," he replied, sounding as gleeful as a kid who had entered Honeydukes for the first time. He was still surveying the room, drinking in the chaos like it was the sweetest of nectars. "We snuck into the kitchens this morning, and Remus and Sirius distracted the house-elves while Peter and I found the pumpkin juice. We even cast a spell on the jugs so the fumes wouldn't escape and infect people early."
She wanted to rebuke him for their rashness but held herself back. She wasn't sure whether it was because he was caught up in the moment, or because his friends were too distracted for him to gloat with them, but he was being uncharacteristically open about their plans. She might as well make the most of the opportunity. That's what Professor Slughorn would recommend. "What if someone drank it early like I nearly did?"
"Remus cast a weak Diversion Charm so that people would want to drink it but wouldn't actually do it. That meant everyone chose pumpkin juice over water when Sirius called for the toast. But I'm guessing it wore off too soon, which was why you were able to reach for it early. It would also explain why Sirius started the toast earlier than we'd planned."
He frowned down the table at his friends, and she wondered how much worse it was supposed to have been. It was still fairly early, so quite a few students hadn't yet arrived. How much worse would the effects have been if their timing had been right as well?
"And Black somehow forgot about this little scheme?" she asked in disdain. "Why did he drink the pumpkin juice if he knew what it was going to do?"
"Well, no. He said this was the only chance he would ever get to understand how his parents felt when it came to blood prejudice. They're quite fanatical about it, you see." His gaze finally settled on her, and whatever he saw there made him flinch back. His tone was almost cajoling as he continued, "I didn't stop you from drinking the juice because of the plan, Evans. I did it because I didn't want to hurt you — and because I thought it would be nice to share this moment with you."
She rolled her eyes. "You think I should feel special because you decided to act like a decent human being towards me for once? Next time, don't bother. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go ask the headmaster if he would like any help sorting this mess out. Unless you have any stores of Glumbumble treacle lying around, he's going to have to procure an awful lot of it over a rather short period of time."
With one last scowl at the messy-haired bane of her existence, she flounced off towards the Head table. A glance towards the Slytherin table revealed that Severus hadn't drunk the juice either — no doubt he had realised that nothing Black instigated would ever bode well for him — and he met her just before she reached the headmaster.
"Sir," Lily said, feeling nervous and guilty now that she was in front of him. Now that it was too late to do anything about it, ways she could have intervened raced through her head like bowling balls, knocking aside the pins of rationality and self-confidence with ease. She was a prefect; it was her job to stop things like this from happening. She hated Potter for putting her in this position. She would have far preferred to have been in hysterics with her classmates than to feel like the Prophet's lies had been proven right.
"Yes, Miss Evans? Mr Snape?"
"Potter has confessed that he and his friends slipped Alihotsy Draught into the pumpkin juice this morning. Severus and I, by some fortunate happenstance, both —" She hesitated, trying to come up with an excuse, but the headmaster's eyes twinkled as if he already knew why neither of them had been caught in the trap. "Well, we didn't trust Black, sir, so neither of us actually drank anything when we toasted you. We still have the utmost respect for you, of course."
"Of course. Well, thank you for informing me of your discovery. Please advise any unaffected students to return to their dormitories. I will ask the house-elves to send food for anyone who has not yet eaten. A few of my colleagues, fortunately, did not see the need for this display, so they will supervise everyone else while I obtain the treacle." With that, he stood and, after handing command over to Professor Slughorn, strode out of the room.
"Why didn't you drink the pumpkin juice, Lily? I thought you trusted Potter's little gang."
She sighed, tired of her friend's attempts to stir up trouble between her and the group. Prior to that year, he had been content with the knowledge that she was sickened by their constant bullying and harassment. Ever since the start of the school year, however, he seemed to want more. The problem was that she still couldn't figure out what he was after. "I've just been trying to be a good prefect — and that means giving people the benefit of the doubt. You've seen the filth the Prophet has been printing about me." Rolling her eyes at his expectant stare, she added, "Potter tipped me off."
"Lily, I've told you time and time again that he just wants —"
"I know," she cut him off, "and he's not going to get it. Look, the headmaster asked us to do something for him, and I'm going to go do it. I'll catch up with you later." She was beginning to think that she should just go back to dealing with Potter her own way, Daily Prophet be damned, but she wasn't about to tell Sev that yet. He would just say that he had told her so, ignoring the fact that it had been important for her to work through things herself.
"That's my Lily," Severus muttered in a tone that was much too possessive for her taste. She loved her best friend, no matter how much his interest in dark magic frightened her, but it was becoming clear that he didn't see her quite the same way.
And that's the problem, she thought as she hurried away to help clean up the Marauders' mess yet again. You want more from me than I'm willing to give. I'm never going to be your Lily.
