Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling!
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Once upon a time there lived a huge family with an abnormal percentage of redheads. This family was full of nice, decent adults who more or less acted with sufficient intelligence to prove to the surrounding world that they all possessed fully functioning brains. But then, with one singular foolish act, everything came crashing down. They reproduced.
Now, most of these children actually were normal(ish). However, there are a few exceptions that were trying to prove extraordinarily hard that they did not, in fact, inherit a brain (or at least any common sense) from their parents. Notably, James Sirius Potter II and my dear, darling brother, Fred Weasley.
Take today for example. James and Fred had decided it would be perfectly alright to test Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' newest product on Nashira Alden in the middle of transfiguration.
It started out as a normal transfiguration class. Over his fifteen years as Professor, Newark had managed to perfect his glare, so that it was able to suck the immaturity and rowdiness that permanently stalks the teenage population out of his students in under three seconds. Even James and Fred lowered their level of obnoxiousness from "merciless aggravation" to mere "unruly pestering." The class, save the two dimwits supposedly related to me, was silently taking notes and actually listening, so they would not have to mooch the notes off of their poor victimized sister/cousin later (One day I fully intend to muster enough strength to resist James's and Fred's whining and manipulation, and leave them doomed to try to decipher Frank's handwriting. It will be a very satisfying revenge). The only sound in the whole room was Professor Newark lecturing, accompanied by the scratching of quills.
That is, until a loud, ear-piercing POP rudely interrupted the calm.
Everyone's head shot up simultaneously, as if we were all synchronized puppets. My hand shot out and knocked my ink jar of the table, adding in a touch of breaking glass to the soundtrack of chaos. Several other people had jumped, knocking papers and launching them into the air. Professor Newark whipped around from the blackboard, exasperatedly trying to determine the source of the noise.
For a few seconds after, we sat frozen, eyes searching, waiting for something. Finally it came.
Near the back of the classroom, someone let out a sound, something between a gasp and a shriek. Continuing our puppet charade, everyone swiveled together to face Nashira Alden, who had an odd look on her face. My first reaction was thinking she was sick. She had a faint sheen of sweat reflecting on her face, and looked faintly blue.
Several seconds disproved this theory. Her "sweat" was expanding at an alarming rate, appeared to be glowing, and started oozing down her face in a slow gloppy mess. Her hands, too, were dripping the same stuff.
Immediately I glanced to the back right corner of the room, where the Gryffindors always congregated. James and Fred were smirking and doing some sort of ridiculous handshake they deemed 'cool.' Frank Longbottom made eye contact with me, and shot me a mildly amused look. I rolled my eyes in return. Professor Newark's tired voice prompted me to break the silent conversation and turn back to the front.
"Need I ask who did this?" He eyes searched out James and Fred. At their innocently blank looks, he sighed and turned back to Nashira, who now looked like an unhappy pyramid of slime. The goo was increasing exponentially, and Nashira's partner was inching away as it oozed towards her. Professor Newark waved his wand, and I winced even before he cast the spell. Growing up with Fred and my dad, I knew that there was no way they would let a prank be terminated by a simple vanishing spell.
I was right. The moment the spell hit the goop, it exploded, sending bright blue slime showering over several other unlucky Slytherins in a spontaneous rainstorm. They broke out into shrieks. Fred and James looked positively gleeful, but quickly schooled their expressions blank when Newark looked over. The rest of the class was giggling, and I had to admit it was a little funny watching the Slytherins losing their heads.
"Potter! Weasley! Undo whatever forsaken spell you have used, unless you desire to spend the rest of term in detention!" Newark raised his voice above the chaos, stressing his point with his patented death glare (a step up from his normal one). James and Fred barely flinched.
"Dunno what spell you are talking about Sir, Fred and I have been taking notes this entire time. No time for pranks. Right Fred?"
"Yes indeed James! However if you insist, we can try to get rid of it. I vaguely remember coming across a spell just last week in the library that vanished recalcitrant slime." Even Professor Newark dropped his glare to stare incredulously at him. I love my brother, but sometimes I wonder if he knows on what floor the library is, and the idea of him actually researching is laughable. Not to mention he had used the world "recalcitrant." Fred continued smiling brightly, pointedly ignoring the disbelieving looks.
Newark glanced at the once small splatters of slime, now mini mountains threatening expansion into the untouched parts of the classroom. The slime had devoured most of the Slytherins' bags, and even the luckiest were at least up to their knees in the stuff. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs that were sitting nearest to them had retreated, hastily throwing papers and quills in their bags, while the slime searched for more victims. Newark took a deep breath.
"I don't care how you do it, just get rid of it now, unless you desire to leave this classroom with no intention of returning." He spoke with a careful patience, as if talking to toddlers having a sparring match with butcher knives.
James shrugged, and nonchalantly waved his wand in a complicated motion that would have taken anyone but him hours to perfect with the same level of casualness. The slime instantly disappeared, leaving only cranky Slytherins and a rotten garbage smell.
The class decided James and Fred's ability to get rid of messes of their own creation was an amazing accomplishment that warranted applause (although for them, I guess it is). Several of the Gryffindors even began catcalling. Like the attention leeches they are, they started bowing, oblivious to the vein pulsing in Newmark's forehead. Sometimes I worry James and Fred will suffocate under the size of their egos. Although if Newark kills them first….
"100 points from Gryffindor. Potter, Weasley. Detention for a month. I will be discussing this with the Headmistress." The attention finally turned back to Newark, and he looked the angriest I have seen him. His lips were pressed together so tight they looked white, and his expression would have made Voldemort pause. I was surprised James and Fred could look so calm, especially since they had just been doomed to detention. Then again, they have grown up around Aunt Ginny…. I swear, they almost looked amused though.
"Detention Sir? For what?" Fred responded innocently.
"I have the utmost confidence that you can figure it out! Be here at 7 tonight."
"Are you implying that we had something to do with Alden spouting goo? Slimy is a Slytherin's natural state, we had nothing to do with it. But if you are suggesting that, we are going to have to ask you for some proof. Frankly, you should be giving us housepoints for getting rid of the stuff, not punishing us." James answered this time. I closed my eyes at their stupidity. Sometimes they just do not know where to stop. I could see Newark counting to three mentally, trying to muster an ounce of patience.
"You two. Out!" Newark threw his hands up in the air. "Everyone leave. Class dismissed!"
"Do we still have to come to detention tonight?"
"OUT." Apparently Newark had decided it would be a waste of effort dealing with them now. I completely understood.
Lunch. Finally. This one hour is the sole reason I have made it to age sixteen with my sanity more or less intact. And after a painful hour of DADA, I needed the break. I sunk into my seat and shoved a chocolate chip cookie into my mouth with all the grace and eloquence befitting a hungry Weasley. My dorm mates, Kelly and Samantha, made faces at me.
For the most part, everyone in Hufflepuff is absurdly nice and friendly. However, sometimes I feel a little out of place. For the first couple years while they were bonding, I was still deemed "cool" enough for my brother and his Gryffindor friends to hang out with. After they realized a girl was "crimping their style" as they put it, I was forced to find other friends, and by then all the Hufflepuffs had already formed close little groups. The people I am closest to are Kelly and Samantha, but they have been friends since they were four, which was a pretty hard friendship to jump into. Not that I don't love my Puffs, but I am jealous of Frank, James and Fred (I refuse to use the "Marauders" to describe them, despite their insisting). I want a friendship where you can barely imagine the people not together.
Samantha started telling me about a cute Ravenclaw she was talking too, hoping he would invite her to Hogsmeade. Sam was the flirtatious one of the group, and was forever badgering me to introduce her to the Marauders. Kelly was the complete opposite (I don't think I have ever seen her willingly speak to a guy unless it was for a project). She is never seen without a fictional book, and most people wonder if she does, in fact, posses a voice. She does (I would know. Although it happens extremely rarely, when she has enough sugar…. Well. She condenses all of the words she has saved up into an hour of solid prattle).
I bite into a chocolate chip cookie at the Hufflepuff table, zoning out from Sam's description of "eyes that were the very same shade as the ocean right before a storm," and basking in the utter joy of melting chocolate and buttery deliciousness.
I jumped when two bodies slide on either side of me and wormed their arms around me, successfully tearing me away from my inner chocolaty dreams.
"Roxy! How has my dearest sister been? Not going too soft, spending all this time with the Puffs?" I glared at him, and then looked to my other side, where James was smirking at the form of Nashira at the Slytherin table.
"Shut up. I am a Hufflepuff. And you guys went a bit overboard today." I nodded towards Nashira Alden.
"You wound me cousin. Truly." James topped off his one man drama act by pounding his hand to his heart and wiping away invisible tears. I rolled my eyes.
"Demanding house points? Really? You are lucky if he does not write to Aunt Ginny. Why did Frank let you do that anyway? I thought he was supposed to keep you in check."
"Ah Roxy. So naïve." Fred spoke with a patronizing voice that never failed in irritating me. "Do not be fooled by his Prefect's badge, Frank still is, and will always be, a Marauder. He may put an end to some of our more harebrained schemes, but a mere prank such as this? Give him some credit."
I sighed.
"Where is Frank anyways? And why are you here? Not ashamed to be seen interacting with a Puff? "
"Frank had to stop by the library for a minute. As for us gracing you with our presence? We came to check if you had escaped the human gelatin monster unscathed, and to ensure your everlasting adoration for us. Not that we were worried your affections were in danger, few can withstand out charm. Anyway, gotta go, Roxs, pranks to plan, first years to trip, Slytherin's to hex. Not." James continued hastily, "That your ickle prefect ears should know any of that." He winked gaudily in a way that only he can quite pull off. In seconds they were gone, back to the Gryffindor table to most certainly plan mischief. Sam stared after them with a sappy expression on her face.
I snorted to myself. I prefer it when they have Frank to balance out the crazy and infinite energy with his reasonableness. Unfortunately for the population of Hogwarts, Fred and James were unleashed to do any damage they saw fit without anyone to stop them from being expelled, even if it was only for a couple minutes. You would be amazed at the level of damage….
A loud laugh brought my attention to the Gryffindor table where my dear cousin and brother were doing who knows what. I shook my head, although their glancing looks towards the Hufflepuff table unsettled me. I did not think they would do something else today after the episode with Nashira, but since Frank was not here to stop them from launching another ludicrous plot, and they were not yet hindered by a detention today, I figured I should expect the worst. Whenever they got that particular gleam in their eyes, I knew it was wise to evacuate the premises. I guess I would have to enjoy my cookie(s) in a more secluded area. Besides, I had to meet with my potions partner in a couple minutes. But before I could stand up and warn Kelly and Samantha, I was too late.
I heard the buzzing sound first, and felt my stomach drop. Following the noise reluctantly, I was led to the peanut bowl, where hundreds of nuts were slowly levitating and turning into bees. Now, to most people it might seem childish and embarrassing, but I have been deathly afraid of bees ever since I accidently got locked in the Burrow's broomshed with a hive.
The bees, now fully transfigured, began swarming around all the Hufflepuff students who were unfortunate enough to come to lunch today. As several began to flock around my head, I felt my eyes water and tried to remain as still as possible. I heard the laughter of the other houses. Panic shot through my veins, along with a surprising amount of anger. Being scared of bees was not something I broadcasted, but James and Freddy knew. I felt my legs begin to shake and a high pitched squeak burst from my mouth as one landed on my face. I began to shudder, and my hands started to quiver. I dropped my cookie and pushed away from the bench with more force than necessary. Without even bothering to grab my bag, I ran out of the Great Hall, trying to stop myself from breaking down completely. Sam yelled after me. I wiped harshly at the few tears that escaped. I shoved through the doors leading to the entrance hall, pawing at my hair, and ran straight into the surprised figure of Frank Longbottom.
Frank grasped my shoulders to steady me, started to smile, and then noticed my expression and the few tears gathering in my eyes. His expression immediately turned worried, and cerulean eyes peered down at me in concern.
"Roxy? Are you alright? What happened?" I tugged away from him and shook his hand off, before dashing past him up the main staircase with the sole thought of getting away.
After collapsing in a corridor on the fourth floor, I sat gasping for breath with my head between my knees. My eyes started watering again, more out of embarrassment than lingering fear. I pictured Frank's face, and the laughter of the entire hall, and then closed my eyes and leaned me head back against the cool stones of the alcove I was hidden in. I couldn't believe how warped their humor had become if they seriously thought that was funny. It made me sick. Not to mention it was extremely cliché. Huffpuffs being associated with bees? Really? I know we have the same colors and are both associated with flowers and happiness, but still. We have been hearing that for years. If they were going to terrorize my house, they should have at least had the decency to be original. Normally I am a pretty even tempered person, but this had me wanting to strangle and demand just what was wrong with their heads. I hugged my knees. Stupid James. Stupid Fred.
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~~~~~~~~Nashira Point of View~~~~~~~~
Stupid Potter. Stupid Weasley. Glowing blue slime? Psh, I can deal. Smelly, glowing blue slime? We have issues. Three hours after my stunt as a slime monster, and I still smell like I have been consorting with piles of garbage. Even after skipping Charms to shower (and thus falling behind in another class. Thanks boys), I still reek of decaying garbage left to bake in the sun. I even swallowed my pride and "borrowed" some of Paisley McCormack's Weasley Wizard Wheezes WonderWitch Perfume. So now I smell like a pile of garbage on a date. Maybe I would sneak out tonight and see if I could use the Prefect's bathroom (the current Heads are remarkably predictable with the passwords). At elevenish I probably could make it without getting detention. After six years of wondering the halls after dark, I had become rather good at avoiding teachers and Peeves. Not to mention, I knew quite a few secret passages ways.
I scraped the slime out from under my fingernails and reclined in my seat by the window, glancing towards the library door. Roxanne Weasley was supposed to have met me here ten minutes ago. I had been here for the past fifty minutes, having finally abandoned my lunch early due to the unappetizing smell I was emanating. I got to spend my lunch period holed away in the library like some Ravenclaw. Although to be fair, I did this surprisingly often. I liked the library when it was empty; it was much easier to think. I frowned and bit down my annoyance. Roxanne Weasley was usually on time, if not early.
For the last two years, Professor Wilson had pared Roxanne and me together for potions partners. I think it was her (somewhat desperate) attempt at house unity. Roxanne and I got on well. She was smart and did her work with no threatening/intimidation from me, but we never really got to know each other (she fraternizes with Potter and Weasley). Each month we have to do a potions project, consisting of a written part and a potions portion. Roxanne and I divided the work and rotated it each project. It is not exactly what Wilson had in mind for these projects, but if she really wanted us to do it together, she should have given us time in class. This time, I had to do the written part about Euphoria potions, and Roxanne was supposed to brew it. We were supposed to meet up (twenty minutes ago now) and go over the paper together. I glanced at my watch. Potions started in fifteen minutes, and I still had to go to the dungeon. Wonderful.
I began packing my stuff up, throwing my quills and the parchment into my bag, and started the walk to the dungeon. I arrived early, and set my bag down at my station in the middle of the classroom. There was only one sixth year class, so all the houses were meshed together in one big class. It was still partially empty right now, with a couple people milling around in little groups. I opened my bag, digging through broken quills and torn pieces of parchment, avoiding the crumpled letter my father had sent me this morning, and searching for my potions book. More people began trickling in, and my friend, Lianne Patterson waved to me as she walked in with her boyfriend. To top it off the stream, the Marauders came in with their typical fanfare of loud laughing and immature jokes. There was still no sign of Roxanne. Professor Wilson rose from her desk in a swirl of navy blue robes. With a flourish of her wand, the chalk began writing the instructions on the blackboard. I noticed the Marauders also glancing over to Roxanne's empty seat.
With a bang that caused the entire class to swivel for the second time today (thankfully not to look at me this time), the classroom door was thrown open, revealing Roxanne Weasley. Her brown hair was frizzled, her eyes looked wild, and her breath came in short gasps. In short, she looked like a mess. Her tanned skin darkened when she noticed everyone watching her. Wilson eyed her appearance and seemed to take pity on her (surprise, surprise, we have a decent potions professor) and waved Roxanne to her seat.
Roxanne slouched over, and sunk into her seat, looking as if she was trying to disappear. Despite everyone's eyes, she kept hers focused on our desk, even though she had to have seen her brother gesturing to her. Eventually my good side won over.
"Are you alright?" My voice split the silence between us. Roxanne glanced up, startled.
"Yeah, fine." Her tone was curt, although she immediately looked a bit apologetic. Suddenly, her head shot up and she began to swear (Huh. Who knew the Hufflepuff princess had such a good vocabulary? Although, again, she does hang out with the biggest prats in the school).
"We were supposed to meet in the library before class! I am so sorry! I cannot believe I forgot." Well at least she apologized. Given her appearance at the moment, I suppose I could let it slid.
"I guess it's alright. When did you want to go over the project then?"
"Just give it to me, and I can read it over. I am sure it's fine, it always is. I really am sorry Nashira." Roxanne ran her hands through her hair, mussing it up even more than its current caveman state (ok, that was a little mean. But I swear it had nearly doubled in size. Normally it was all nice and sleek, and now, well, it wasn't).
"Um. Ok, thanks. Is the potion all done then?"
"Oh, yeah, I have it right here." Roxanne glanced towards her feet where she normally dropped her bag. And promptly began swearing again (I have to say, I am kind of impressed. I never knew that she had it in her).
"Great. Fantastic. This is just what I need today." Sarcasm, I detect? "Sorry Nashira, I apparently left my bag in the Great Hall, which had the potion in it. If you were not able to tell at lunch, I don't really like bees." Um, okay? What about bees? Of course the day I skip lunch something interesting would happen. At my confused expression Roxanne shook her head.
"Never mind then. Kelly or Sam probably picked it up. Anyway, the potion is all done." At that moment, Professor Wilson rapped her knuckles on our desk.
"Get started girls." Glimpsing around, everyone else had already gotten the ingredients from the cabinet and were starting. Oops.
Forty minutes later, and our potion was well on its way. We had to let it simmer for ten minutes, stirring every other minute. Potions is my favorite class, and my best one. When I graduate, I want to go into developmental and discovery potions at St. Mungos. Our potion was currently a dark orange, almost the exact shade as the book's. Roxanne seemed to have calmed down, and her hair had deflated somewhat. All in all? It was a pretty good potions class. Or it was, until Gitface and his twin (well, cousin technically) Twithead (creative names, are they not?) decided to interrupt the peace. Again. Oh, and if you are wondering, Potter's Twithead.
To my surprise, Roxanne glared at them as they approached. Really, what did I miss at lunch? The Hufflepuff Princess rarely had ugly expressions on her face, and that expression could have curdled milk. Upon their arrival, Twithead cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Sorry, Roxs. Might have gone a bit overboard today." I raised my eyebrow. Twitface apologizing? Hufflepuff Princess' ugly expression? Now I am curious….
"Might have? Are you sure about that? Because you really don't sound sure." Roxanne's voice had risen in pitch and volume towards the end of the sentence. Twithead and Gitface winced. They winced. I have never seen them wince, ever. Even in the face of McGonagall. May wonders never cease?
"We did not mean it, we weren't thinking. Frank wacked some sense into us after. We brought your bag though." So they had. Not completely useless then. Roxanne grabbed it from Weasley and sighed.
"Whatever. Just be glad I already expelled all my murderous intentions." They sent her cheesy smiles, seeming to know they were more or less forgiven. Wilson shooed them back to their seats, where Frank Longbottom was keeping their potions from exploding, leaving us in peace and raising the average IQ by a good 100 points (Ok, I am not normally quite this degrading towards them, but I smelled like spoiling garbage! And I lowered myself to the point where I "borrowed" Paisley's perfume! Paisley, of all people! Today they deserved it. Normally I can accept they are prats and move on, but today they seemed determined to grate against my brain. So ha. They get mental bashing. REVENGE! )
After the ten minutes of simmering, I started adding the porcupine quills, with Roxanne stirring.
"Ok, next we have to-" BAM. Oh joy. More onomatopoeia, which seems to be the harbinger of trouble. This time the sound came from Roxanne's bag, which had exploded, sending parchment and quills everywhere.
"JAMES! FRED!" Roxanne looked murderous. I was actually worried, and I come from a house that is supposed to consist of backstabbing killers (go silver and green!).
Fred yelped. "Sorry Roxs! I forgot I put that in there when we passed Filch…" James wacked him on the head with the back of his hand. Professor Wilson waved her hand, and all the objects from Roxanne's bag that were whirling around the room froze for a moment, then shot towards her in a neat pile. She waved her wand again, and they filed back into Roxanne's bag. Roxanne's expression turned slightly less vicious, and then brightened at Wilson's next words.
"Detention, Potter, Weasley."
Muahahaha (my evil laugh. The mental one, that is). A wonderful end to a potions class!
It was eleven thirty at night, and I was in a rather good mood. I had just come from the Prefects' bathroom (password, Dumbledore. Took me thirty seconds to guess, a new record), and smelled of soap and other pleasant things not consisting of rot. I felt clean for the first time that day. Now I was wondering the halls of the fourth floor, enjoying the silence, except for my quiet footsteps lightly echoing. Some might be creeped out by the dark halls of Hogwarts, but six years of night time explorations, I have gotten used to it (so have my dorm mates. Now they know not to hex the intruder opening the door at two in the morning). Plus, it is pretty easy to avoid the patrols if you know how, and the last time I had gotten a detention for being out of bed after curfew was in fourth year. By now I had reached the staircase before the Entrance Hall.
Suddenly, I froze. Someone was holding a wand high in the air for light as he or she walked towards the staircase. It did not appear to be a teacher, as the light bobbed with a movement that clearly indicated wrongdoing. The figure was also looking around, obviously worried about the possibility of being spotted. By whom, I was not sure. Nobody really patrolled at this time, so it had to be someone new to sneaking. My heart pounding at the improbability of meeting someone at this hour, I started moving slowing back up the stairs, planning to hide in an alcove at the top. Before I could get very far, the person abruptly trained the light right on me. My hand shot up to block the sudden brightness, and I squinted, trying to see. A voice cut through the silence.
"Nashira?"
"Roxanne!?"
This is my first story, and I am super Super SUUUUUPPPPPPPPPEEEEEEERRR excited! This is at least my fifth time writing this, but I have finally mustered the confidence to put it up! Now I just hope all the formatting is right (please let me know if you see any problems). I thank you in advance for all the reviews (Cuz I know any of you reading this would not want to disappoint a poor, pitiful, newbie author). Please, please, please review! I know this was just the introductory chapter, and not a lot of action has happened yet, but was it too boring? Did my terrible grammar hinder your reading too much (I tried my best to edit it, but commas still elude me)? Did you even like it? TELL ME ANYTHING! (please).