Concerning Queen Evelyn, the Mighty, Mysterious, Last Gryffindor of Ravenclaw and her Adventures with Sirius Black

Disclaimer: I do not own The Harry Potter series, nor is this story intended as a commercial exploit.

Chapter Two: The Feast with the Beast

The Grounds.

We're getting off the train and making our way to the carriages now. It is very dark and spooky outside. Blustery and biting, like a terrier. Very Scotland In The Fall type weather, and I hate it. Well, I love it and I hate it. It excites the senses and makes my nose freeze. With the giant castle and the mist and the midnight blue lake, the whole ambiance of the school is given an historical aspect.

And Hogwarts is historical (one of the highest compliments, as a Ravenclaw, I will ascribe to anything). It has been around for more than 1,000 years, and I am lucky to go here, really. I almost missed out on this experience.

I'm lucky my parents did not decide to send me to Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, like they did my older sister, Blessed Bell Ransom, because of their need for a finished older daughter. Blessed Bell turned out to be A Snob And A Half because she went to a school for snobs, so I am lucky that I got to go to Hogwarts and so turned out the level-headed way I am. I mean, semi-level-headed. I'm not a schizophrenic, at least. Though, saying that, perhaps we should give it time. I am only sixteen, and schizophrenia doesn't develop until one becomes an adult.

"Here they come!" said Camilla excitedly, referring to our ride to the front doors, bringing me back around.

The carriages are made to appear as if they run on their own—as if by magic!—so all the little second years receive the full experience, but they are really pulled by animals called Thestrals. I can't see Thestrals, so I can't vouch through first-hand experience of what they look like, but I've read that a person can only see one if she or he has seen someone else die. Now, that topic's quite morbid, so we won't be talking about it any further. Go read about it somewhere. Getting into the carriage.

I guess I am getting more anxious for the school year to start. I know the train, and the ride to the castle, and the Welcoming Feast, and the leading of our new students to their House Common Rooms is all traditional and all very nice sometimes, but I have been going here enough terms to just want classes to begin already, without pomp. It's Wednesday, so we have an entire five days to "prepare" and cram for classes on Monday, since we need to start with a full week, and so I just wish Monday were here now. It's another example of how our current establishment is fucking with us. I understand the need for acclimatizing students, but Jesus, five days? I could be at home, wandering around my room in my underwear. I want some sleep, not added time in this constricting uniform.

Hmm, do you ever stop and think you might be getting a bit bitter for life? I do on a consistent basis.

After our Prefects' Meeting, which consisted of a lot of forced politeness and barbed looks sent in Potters' direction on Evans's part, we were all given time slots and a section of The Express to monitor. My bad luck that Camilla quit her Prefect-ship last year and I was left with having to deal with Mara Dice for one hour, but so is life. It's preparation for when I work at The Ministry in two years and have annoying colleagues. The Fat Slug most rightly and correctly hates me, just as much as I hate her, so the chore of minding the little kiddies was done with minimal conversation.

The major sore spot during the ride, however, was not being forced to stare at, through magnet-vision, the multitude of Herpes' blemishes surrounding Mara Dice's mouth, but what occurred when I bumped into Sirius Black. Nothing of import really happened there, if I'm honest. Knowledge of his continued existence just ruins my afternoon.

After I had gotten over my momentary brain freeze at seeing Sirius Black appear so close to me, I gave him one of my superior "Aren't-You-A-Stupid-Sad-Man" smiles. It didn't seem to work quite as I wanted it to, because he just proceeded to give me a confused look and meander on his way down the hallway, presumably to create some sort of mischief with his friends, but I think in the future Black will know to watch where he puts his feet, lest he incur greater wrath.

Indeed, I hope this shall be the case.

As Black was walking away, Mara Dice looked at his bottom like it was The Most Glorious Creation Ever. But I, of The Classic And Divine Restraint, forced my eyes straight ahead. It was a great win on my part, and went an enormous way in cheering me up. Two years ago, I would have salivated like a lion over antelope carcass, but that is a story for later.

I will tell it partially now. Realizing, of course, that I have yet to mention Sirius Black up to this point, you need to understand two things:

#1: Black is so often on my mind that it is amazing to me if or when other people need his presence explained.

And #2: Black is such an awful human being that I hate thinking about him and actively try not to do so.

Of course, when you are trying to actively not think of a person, you just end up thinking about that person all the more. I am so stubborn however, that this is not a major set-back for me, and I actively think Black away. In short, as much as I think about Sirius Black, I not think about him more.

Perhaps, I have just contradicted myself. That is alright, however, because this only has to make sense to me, as this is my journal, and not yours.

To wrap things up, I think it will suffice to say that Sirius Black and I have a History together. He is That Boy. Not the One Who Got Away—if only because I never had him to begin with, ha—but That First Crush. "The One" who is so soiled in my memory, that he has become a permanent fixture in my soul. I cannot get rid of him. I really want to, but I can't. Black is so beautiful and arrogant that he is un-get-rid-able. However, Black's very existence is useful to me in the fact that it reminds me of how much better a person I am. Which is why I make a point everyday of ragging on him. Immature, but immaturity is expected, isn't it, from a sixteen-year-old? I will be immature all over my shit.

In my head, Black is ever sorry he called me an "ugly cow" in third year.

The Great Hall.

"I hope you all had a pleasant trip here!" Our Headmaster began his yearly Welcoming Speech that Returning students and Newcomers alike were forced to listen to. In the past, I have tried to enact Muffling Charms so I don't have to listen to Dumbledore's prattle about Things I Am Already Supposed To Know, but The Great Hall, through some quirky forethought of its founders, apparently has an innate magic that prevents this. Oh well. "A very great welcome to our new and returning students! I am so happy to see everyone made it safely back! And a big welcome to our lovely professors as well!" Dumbledore smiled benignly, looking around at the professors sitting next to him and then over at The Gryffindor Table. "I am crossing my fingers, hoping my mischievous 7th years have decided to leave off on their pranking, if only for this evening! Last year's Leaving Feast was remarkable, boys, despite Professor Levinson's unfortunate accident with the butter knife—though I hear his mutilated nose is being re-grown as I speak—however, we must learn to show restraint when restraint is due! Due to Professor Levinson's, ahem, forced sabbatical, we have a very fine young lady to replace him in D.A.D.A. So all is well that ends well, as they say! Miss Roberts, if you will please stand up and take your bow?"

A thin girl with strawberry hair the consistency of velvet stood up and waved. The Ravenclaw Table cheered as a collective unit. Well, not to say that the table cheered, as that would be odd, but perhaps not entirely out of place at a magical institution. No, I mean, the residents of our table cheered. Enthusiastically, too, since Miss Roberts was a graduate from our House. I remembered her from two years ago, when I was a lumpy 4th year and she was Miss Perfect Princess Head Girl.

Why are they always redheaded? This doesn't bode well for me next term. My hair is some witch's brew mixture of vaginal discharge and feces.

"She looks pretty, doesn't she?" Camille said. "Good for her, to have gotten the position so soon after graduation. She's Bella's age, isn't she, Evie?"

I nodded. "Yes, and thank God, they share nothing else in common. I'm looking forward to seeing how she teaches, though. You know, she showed me around my first year of school?"

"No, I didn't know. Is that where you disappeared to every morning?"

"No, no, not in the mornings. Dear girl, that was me sleeping in. She showed me around in the afternoons, after Potions."

Lucille decided it was time to lean over and interrupt. "Stop!" she hissed, sounding like McGonagall. "You're being rude. You're going to miss something important!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Must not overpower the hundreds of people clapping loudly."

"Rightly so."

I rolled my eyes. Lucy isn't satisfied unless she's harrumphed seven times a night.

The curfuffle died down after another minute and we waited while the Headmaster rose again. "I have every hope that the students responsible have grown up and learnt from past mistakes," Dumbledore continued right where he had left off. Unsurprisingly it has to be said, he did not sound very concerned if the matter turned out either way. More like, he expected it not to and would have been pleased if it hadn't. "We must realize that it is important we are as close as ever this year. We are pushing on tougher times now, and in the darkness, we must always remember, that there shines a light of hope. If only we are willing to see it."

From The Gryffindor Table, a tall, long-haired, classically-handsome boy, rose up from his seat, and under everyone's stares, he preened like a pigeon and expanded with ego. "Oh, Dumblebucket, I agree!"

"Black, sit down this instant!" our Transfigurations Professor, Minerva McGonagall, yelled, like she had been waiting for the opportunity. Professor McGonagall isn't the most patient of women at the best of times. After five years under her tutelage one learns to fly under the radar. When it comes to Sirius Black, however, one learns nothing. McGonagall is as cold as the reeds in our lake to him, but it just seems to fuel Black's idiot-ness. "I will brook no tomfoolery in this Hall!" In her exhilaration, McGonagall's pointy hat was in danger of dropping fully off her head. "Sit down now!"

"But, McGonagall! My heart! I did not mean to offend!" said Black. "Your words cut me deeply! I was expressing myself, and you cut into me like a knife! Yes! I am skewered on the blade of my own passion! Much like Rombleton is skewered on his blade in Shaker's play!" Every girl in The Hall giggled.

"That is enough, Mr. Black!" Professor McGonagall said. "Cease this disruption and sit down now!"

Sirius Black pouted. "I don't want to! Look around, Minnie Mouse! They love when I stand up! What kind of wizard would I be, to deprive my audience of such a glorious opportunity?"

"Feast for the eyes!" Potter, Black's best friend, fellow annoying cohort, and oh yes, Head Boy, added. Though to give Potter his credit, which I hate doing, he looked to finally be accepting his new role as disciplinarian by trying to yank Black back onto the bench. Black shook him off and winked at the crowd.

"Oh!" Professor McGonagall glared at them. "Dumbledore, this is unacceptable!"

"Yes, yes, Minerva," the Headmaster said with a sigh. "I know. Boys!" he addressed the Gryffindor 7th years as a whole, which I thought funny but a little unfair. On Potter's left, it looked like Remus Lupin was trying to sink into his seat and become unnoticeable, "Please refrain from any rough-housing until you get to your Common Room. That goes for everyone in my Hall. You are full of joie de vivre from a summer away, and I understand this, but you must remember that Hogwarts is a place of learning." Not looking very placated, Professor McGonagall sat down, as did Black. "One more thing of note, my children: The Forbidden Forest, as always, remains Forbidden. Now, I believe it is time we all tucked in! Thank you! Oh, my! Raspberry Tarts!" The Headmaster gathered up his trailing beard and hurriedly got down from the dais.

"Merlin!" said Lucille, once people could start talking again. "Can you believe him?"

"Are you referring to Sirius Black or Professor Dumbledore?" Camilla, who was sitting on my other side, asked breathlessly; perhaps a little charmed despite herself, though who knows why. "Because I can believe anything of Sirius Black. Anything! That boy practically runs our school!"

I looked up from my writing, offended. "No, he does not. No, he does not, Camilla! And I won't hear a word otherwise! You want to know who runs our school? I will tell you: that fool diabetic, candy-loving man who just gave a speech runs our school. Not some trumped up schoolboy with a fetish for sparkly scarves!"

Lucille rolled her eyes. "Everyone knows you hate him. No need to go on about it every day and Sunday."

"I do not go—."

"Who do you hate?" Tamara asked, focused intently on my face, and leaning in more to better hear my answer. "I never thought you could hate anybody, Evie! You're too nice!"

"Thank you," I said, surprised.

Lucille smiled at Tamara. "That was very nice, Tammy! But really, Evelyn, you're going to have to stop going on about him so much. He has spies! Any one of them could hear you now. You saw how the entire hall shut up just to listen to him. You put one toe out of line and we'll be worse off than third year."

"Spies in Ravenclaw?" I asked. "I don't believe it."

"Believe it!" Lucille said, cocking her head in the direction of Fat Lump Mara Dice. I glanced over as well.

"She could squeeze you like a pimple," warned Lucille.

"Like one of her pimples," I muttered, going back to my food, as it looked more important.

Tamara started giggling. "Evie!" she said, scandalized. "That's mean!"

"I am sorry," I replied. Not Contrite At All. "I'm a bad influence on you. You shouldn't listen to me."

"True," Lucy said, and then actually proceeded to coax Tamara's attention away from me, and onto the serving dishes. Ah, good girl.

I looked to my right at Camilla, wondering why she was being so silent during these proceedings. Cam was a sweet girl, but she hated Mara Dice with more fire than I did. "What's up?" I said. I gestured at the assortment of foods we had available; Camilla's plate was empty. Noting how thin she was already, this was not a good development. She needed to stuff her sweet face full of potatoes if my self-esteem was going to have any hope of surviving the night. "Why aren't you eating? It's going to all disappear soon and then you'll be sorry."

Camilla shrugged. "You know it replenishes anyway. And I'm not hungry."

"It doesn't matter if you are or aren't. Big night ahead and all. You should be eating, dear. What with trudging up to The Common Room and going straight to bed. We need to stuff ourselves so we hit a food coma, darling."

"I'll get something in a few," Camilla assured me. "I just want to think for a minute."

I waited a long minute, hoping Cam would enlighten me as to what she wanted to think about. "And?"

"I miss Alex," she mumbled finally. "We shouldn't have broken up."

I gasped. "Blasphemer!"

"It's true!" Camilla said. "We were good together, you know it! Two years, Evie! He's the only boy I've ever known for two years! What am I supposed to do now that he's gone?"

"Laugh?" I suggested. "Smile? Live life as you were meant to live it without some whip-cracker at your bottom? You're supposed to not be thinking about him. It's our Cardinal Rule. We made up a whole list this summer, remember? And what was at the top? No Thinking About Alex Riktus Whatsoever. And now you've broken it. Shame."

"It was a stupid list," grumbled Camilla. "I shouldn't have to stick by it. Rules were meant to change. I'm thinking of getting back together with him, anyway."

"Has he said something to you?" I asked suspiciously. One of my jobs as Best Friend was to make sure reuniting with the evil man did not happen. Camilla was not meant to be with Alexander Riktus. Riktus was a devil-worshipper so reunification boded ill for their future offspring. "You should tell me if he is harassing you, Cam. I'll bring it up at the next Prefects' Meeting. Featherbutt should be able to do something about it."

Camilla laughed, momentarily diverted by the topic at hand. "His name is Featherhead," she corrected. "He can't like you calling him that. And why do you, by the way? I've forgotten."

I smirked in remembrance. "I transfigured a bird's tail onto his arse once. It was magnificent."

"You did that!"

"Keep it down!" I said. "No one really knows! They think Lucius Malfoy did it."

"But you look nothing like him!" Camilla said. "Why would they think that?"

"Having your arse transfigured by a Slytherin boy, especially one who graduated four years ago, is infinitely more manly-sounding than having it transfigured by a girl," I replied, snickering. "And Anthony swore me not to tell. It was his price for not running to a professor and making me serve detention. Though I think he was being unjust. He was the one who tripped me up in the hallway and made me rip my tights. They were never the same after that. Not even my mum could reparo them. And look at him, a prefect now. Perhaps that would have never come to pass."

"It's 'Anthony' now, is it?" Camilla asked, latching onto the only thing that would naturally interest her. "Intriguing!"

"Not really," I demurred. "He's pretty boring, if you ever get a chance to talk with him. Fat head with a fatter arse."

Camilla shook her head. "No. I meant that it's intriguing you call him names when you obviously like him—."

"Look!" I interrupted, pointing at the table with my fork. "Scalloped potatoes! Yum! May I serve you some?"

Ravenclaw 6th year Girl's Dorm Room.

"So, to commence our meeting of the minds, Evie, will you give us a speech?"

Confused, and absolutely not wanting to give a speech at all, I said, "But I thought I was doing the minutes! I always do the minutes!"

"Will you just say something already?" Mara Dice exclaimed, yanking a pillow away from her eyes and glaring at me. She was sitting up in bed, wearing a silk nightgown, and looking like a big frou-frou spotty elephant. "I hate that we have to do this. Why do we have to do this every year? I just want some fucking sleep. I don't even like you all that much!"

"Hey!" Lucille barked, coming to my defense, as I looked to be made uncharacteristically speechless by Mara's tactlessness. "You know this is Tradition. You know we have to do this, Mara. Once you graduate, I am sure you will have fond memories of this. Mark my words."

"I hate all of you!" Mara grumbled. "But, continue, Ransom." She gave me a rather nasty smile. "Make your speech. I know how good of a public speaker you are! Third year, wasn't it, when you wet your pants?"

"I thought we weren't set on the speech-maker yet," I said, valiantly disregarding her. I hated Bad Attention. "I am a much better note-taker. I don't see why Lucille ca—."

"Fine!" Lucille interrupted. "I'll do it." She paused to clear her throat. "…On this day, Wednesday, September 1st, 1976, the 6th year Ravenclaw Girls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry hereby acknowledge and welcome the coming year into our minds and hearts and bodies, in the specific hope that at term's end in July, we and our families will be alive and we will have accomplished what we set out to accomplish ten months ago."

"And what was that?" Camilla asked the room.

I was already flipping through my journal.

"I can't find it," I told her apologetically. "I forgot that I start a new one each summer."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Mara said. "Get this over with, Lucille! I have summer homework to finish tomorrow."

"Time management," I tsk-ed, under my breath.

"Fine," said Lucy, shooting me a warning look. "Everyone, grab the hand of the person sitting next to you."

"I am not getting up!" Mara felt the need to remind us. "I am all tucked in. And I am not touching sticky Camilla's hand anyway. She probably has semen smeared all over it. I've heard the rumors."

I frowned. "Hey!"

"This isn't my tradition," Mara added.

"It used to be," whispered Lucille. "Before you went all Betrayer on us."

"What was that?" Mara asked.

"Nothing," I said. "Why don't you go to sleep? I agree with you about this not involving you anymore. You are, in fact, ruining the peaceful environment we've been trying to establish for the past fifteen minutes. You're superfluous to these proceedings."

"Fine!" said Mara, immediately picking up her wand and spelling her bed curtains shut. Camilla and I exchanged pleased glances when she added a Silencing Charm; that meant we could gossip about Mara all we wanted and she wouldn't be any the wiser as to what we were talking about. We are a little rude, after all.

I gave a salute. "Well rid of you, fat beast!" I turned my head only to receive Lucy's severe look.

"You didn't have to do that," she said. "You could have been more diplomatic about it."

"In the future," I said, "Tamara will handle all our diplomacy."

"What's 'diplomacy'?" Tamara asked, sounding pleased that she was finally being addressed.

I gave her a wary look. "Pardon?"

"Let's finish up!" Lucille ordered loudly. "What are all our wishes for this year?"

"I would like to get a boyfriend!" said Tamara at once.

"Well, that should be easy." I smiled at her, envying for a moment her glossy brown hair and perfect tan skin. Boys liked shiny things. Damn. "You get hit on all the time."

"That is true," said Lucille. "I can help you there." Lucille smiled at all of us around the circle. I felt her squeeze my hand; evidently I was back in her good graces, though, Merlin knows how long that will last. Probably halfway through my next breath. "My wish is for me to do better in Astronomy."

"An admirable one!" I replied. I wanted to encourage staying on topics other than that of Boys for fear some of us would get a bit too silly. Astronomy was a good choice. A quick glance at Camilla told me that she didn't quite appreciate this change in subject.

"What about you, Evie?" Tamara asked.

I paused, remembering #1 on My List from earlier today. "I would like to get on The Quidditch Team," I admitted.

"Really?" Lucy said. I had no way to tell if her enthusiasm was faked. "That's great! Have you been pract—?"

"I have a wish," Camilla put in before Lucy could finish her sentence. "Like Tamara, I'd like to get a boyfriend. Preferably the one I just had."

I started groaning. "Camilla!"

"What?"