Author's Note: Here is chapter three! i am so thrilled by the response to this fanfiction, it's amazing and I thank everyone who followed and favourited. Also Remus is Quidditch captain, I like the idea of him a player and I know in Snape's memory it says he focused on his studies but that is different too and it's never mentioned whether Alice was a Prewett but there is speculation so she is here - i'm sorry if you do not like it.
Also I'm sorry if this seems like it's been written weirdly, I'm nursing a painful hangover.
BUT PLEASE REVIEW, I LOVE REVIEWERS AND READERS PLEASE!
Disclaimer: all place, characters and ideas belong to J.K Rowling. I own nothing except for Isabelle.
Chapter Three: Witch Burning in the Fourteenth Century Was Completely Pointless
"You'd think people had better things to gossip about," said Marlene as she sat down opposite Isabelle at the breakfast table. "A whole village have been massacred, and all Mary Shakespeare does is ask me if you're thinking of breaking up with Alistair anytime soon."
Marlene could be insensitive. She blurted out the wrong things, swore a little too often and paid no attention to the social norm. Isabelle was reminded of that, that morning.
Alice Prewett and Frank Longbottom missed the comment and burst into laughter. Isabelle frowned. "What did you tell her?"
"I told her to mind her own damn business," said Marlene, using a large spoon to shovel mushrooms onto her plate.
"Did she say anything else?"
"Asking whether the boys do their Quidditch tryouts shirtless. She's going to watch on Sunday."
Rolling her eyes, Isabelle took a big bite of toast. "You should've told her that it's the onlookers who go shirtless and dye their hair bright red to show support."
"Oh, no. She'd enjoy flashing the stands. That girl wouldn't know dignity if it jumped in front of her naked wearing Hagrid's galoshes and cooking apron." With a loud gulp, Marlene swallowed the bite of toast. "Have I missed anything?" She asked.
"The post arrived but the Daily Prophet didn't mention a thing about the killings. Absolutely nothing, it's as if it never happened."
In fact, the front cover that morning was celebrating an anniversary for Newt Scamander's book release anniversary. Isabelle went to ask about what else Mary had asked when Follet crashed into a large bowl of scrambled egg. It threw food out in every direction, splattering the table with yellow.
"Bloody hell," Marlene groaned. Grabbing Follet's barely conscious body, she dangled him by his leg and yanked the letter tied around his foot, muttering: "why can't you just fly into a fucking wall and do me a favour."
Dragging pieces of breakfast from her hair, Isabelle smiled when she caught Frank helping Alice get it out of hers. She wasn't sure what had happened over the summer, Alice was always private about that aspect of her life.
"Oh, it's just from mum and dad," Marlene read out. "They're on a trip to Bulgaria to try and debunk the great myths of Alexander Nevsky - apparently there's hidden runes in the architecture."
"My parents like to visit Cornwall," Isabelle sighed, thinking about her own mundane holidays. The idea of muggles gave her a forgotten thought, digging into her bag, she yanked out the books rolling around in there.
"Is that a muggle studies book? What are you doing Muggle Studies for?" said Marlene, rolling her eyes at Isabelle. "You're Muggle-born! Your mum and dad are Muggles! You already know all about them. We had this conversation last year."
Isabelle liked muggle studies. "It's an easy NEWT, the ministry like seeing an expansive education."
"How many NEWTS are you taking this year? You've been in every single on of my classes so far."
"Well, I'm taking more new subjects than you, aren't I?" said Isabelle. "Those are my books for Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Defense, Muggle Studies, Potions —"
"That's ridiculous. Muggle studies is—"
"None of your business. I can handle seven NEWTs, I've already started revising for Potions."
"Are you planning to eat or sleep at all this year, Isabelle?" Sniggered Marlene. She was only taking four, her course in apparition examining meant all she had to do was gain an 'O' in apparating and Defense Against the Dark Arts.
"I need the subjects to get into the Ministry, I really want to be part an executive in the education department. Learning is what I enjoy, now go back to trying to kill your bird instead of killing my dreams."
Alice laughed and looked to Isabelle. "You want to work for the ministry? Frank wants to be an auror there, he'll really passionate." Frank went red, looking down at the sound of the Prewett girl's proud voice.
"That would be amazing. Didn't you get an O in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Frank?"
He looked up, nodding. "Yeah, I did. It was the only subject I really revised for."
She couldn't wait for Defense Against the Dark Arts, the jinxes were captivating and as it was an advanced level, she would learn her patronus. She'd tried before to conjure one, but was unable to think of her happiest moment.
Alice brushed the table in front of her of crumbs and breakfast parts. She asked: "Have you looked into applying for the Department of Education, yet? I heard they hire straight out of Hogwarts if you're interested enough."
"Yes! I had to write this ridiculously massive thesis on Newt Scamander and why he changed the curriculum for young witches and wizards. It must've been twenty thousand words long."
"Isabelle?"
She looked up to see Remus on the other side of the table, just a little further down the table to Marlene's left. He must've been there the whole morning with James and Sirius; Peter had his head down as he shoveled bacon into his mouth.
Isabelle couldn't help but notice that Remus looked shattered, the bags beneath his eyes were deep purple.
"Were you talking about that essay you wrote for the education director? Were my notes alright?" He asked, a couple of pieces of hair fell down his forehead.
"Absolutely," she smiled. "I would've been so lost, I didn't know what the hell an ashwinder was until you gave me them."
"I think we're doing that this year in Kettleburn's lesson, you know. He told me it's his favourite creature because they set fire to the robes of students he doesn't like."
Laughing, she imagined the sweet bliss of seeing Alecto with her ugly hair on fire, screaming her way back to the castle with Avery behind her. "That'll be the greatest thing I'll see this year. Thank you, Remus."
"Don't worry about it. You saved my potion grade in our OWL exams. I spent so much time focusing on Quidditch... probably shouldn't have tried out for Quidditch captain now I think about it."
Isabelle laughed again and shook her head. "No, don't be silly. You're the best captain Gryffindor have had. Do you remember in our third when Harlow...?"
"Merlin, he flew into the goal post during our lat match and we lost to Hufflepuff, again. I thought my head was going to explode. Prongs, do you remember?"
James looked up from his conversation with Peter and Sirius, a scowl appeared on his face. "I remember. Anscombe still doesn't let it go because I was the one who caught Harlow before he smashed himself up, falling from that height. Bloody prat..." He caught Isabelle's gaze, realizing he'd called her boyfriend that without remorse. His mind burned with embarrassment, thinking she'd go back to Lily and tell her how horrible he'd been about Ali. "I-uh... I mean he's alright. Just sometimes mentions it. I didn't mean to call him that."
There was a sudden enslaught of shouting. Isabelle looked up, stunned, at the two Gryffindors bustling around the tables in a stressed flurry. Zachary and Felicia Lynch were the twin prefects and known for being overbearing in every aspect of their lives. When they weren't shouting at each other, they were shouting at the rest of the school.
Zachary stumbled over to the Gryffindor table, he was breathing heavily with a hand clutched to his chest. "You must excuse me," he breathed. "But I've lost my prefect badge and I was wondering if any of you have seen it? I left it on the table last night and it's just gone!"
The dozen or so students sat peering up at him shook their heads, not one remembered seeing the object at all. He turned his round nose up and let out a huff.
"I really need that badge, if any of you see it, inform me immediately."
James stifled his grin. "Sure, mate. We'll let you know."
Zachary narrowed his eyes at the Potter boy for a moment, trying to figure out something hidden in the supressed smile. He then threw himself from the table and stormed off to meet his sister at the entrance hall doors. The pair of them glared at the hundred or so pupils at breakfast and turned to look elsewhere.
Marlene scoffed. It wasn't often she liked someone and Zachary, as well as his sister, were no exception. "Merlin," she sighed. "I wish I'd have nicked it. I could blackmail him into giving me the Lynch family fortune then."
"I don't think he loves the badge that much," Frank smiled.
"Oh no, he definitely does. I saw the sweat on his brow. Just you wait, he'll announce the engagement soon."
Sirius had watched Zachary leave the hall, a big smile on his face. When he turned back to the table, it was even bigger. "That being said he finds it," he laughed. James gave him a shove.
Alice blinked. "What did you do?"
There was a beat of silence, where Isabelle watched Remus share a knowing look with each of his friends. They all grinned as if reading each other's minds before James said: "We've got it and we've been improving it."
He opened his hand, the red pin sat neatly in his palm.
The badge now read Bighead Boy.
Looking up at Sirius and James' smug faces, she shook her head in disapproval. "Leave it by the fire in the common room, he'll think Peeves was playing around with it."
"Okay, I'll leave it by the fire." James smiled. He flicked it up in the air and caught it, pocketing the shiny object. He was going to do as Isabelle said, but not change the name.
She was already moving onto the next subject. "Speaking of Quidditch, Amelia wants to try and join the team this year. She's really talented, she applied for a junior apprenticeship with the Holyhead Harpies."
"Johnson?" Remus asked, chewing some food. "I've never seen her play before. Why didn't she try out last year?"
"She was going to but Avery told her that girls didn't belong on the team, he was really awful to her."
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "And she doesn't care what he said to her this year?" Isabelle shook her head.
"I told her that any prat can hold a broom and only one person a year can get an apprenticeship with a Quidditch Team, that's her."
Remus grinned, he liked the idea of having a player who had a grudge against the Slytherins, it meant you had a reason to try your hardest. Johnson just had to pass tryouts. "Should go well, then," he grinned. "We need a new chaser and beaters."
Sirius and James exchanged a glance, they hated tryouts. The day was always long, and boring, and painful. "Will you all be watching then?" James asked Isabelle and the two other girls. "All your friends, I mean."
Lily, he means. "Yes, of course." She replied. "We'll all be there for Amelia. Didn't Millicent say she wanted to go too, Mar?" She went to ask her friend but James interrupted.
"For Amelia," he repeated. Then a slow grin crept onto his face. "That'll be a first. All the girls usually turn up for Sirius, are you sure you're not trying to hide Millicent's secret obsession with him?"
Isabelle's eyes widened. The cheek of Potter and Black was a ridiculous display of egotistical masculinity. "Actually," she sneered. "Millicent has no feelings whatsoever for Black. People usually don't like the prats who bully them."
"Bully?" Sirius gasped. "I do not bully. Even if I did, I'm irresistible so it doesn't matter."
Isabelle looked gave him a tired look. That stupid smug grin on his face was just waiting for a smack, specifically from her very large divination book.
"That's the truth, Williams. I'm just too good looking to be a bully. If I really hurt feelings then I'd be a Slytherin. You should have written this down in your little thesis: Sirius Black is an unbeaten, irresistible wizard who—"
"The truth is that you don't think their exists a girl which finds you just as intolerable as those slimy Slytherins," interrupted Isabelle angrily. "You ego is the ugliest thing I've ever seen."
"Yeah?" Sirius' eyes snapped to her, feeling like a couple of wasp stings as he dropped his voice lowly, "well at least I can talk to a Slytherin. All I've heard is that you bottle it every-time one of them breathes in your direction."
Isabelle's mouth dropped open She scowled at him and was so angry that she couldn't bring herself to answer back. Hence making her angrier as she couldn't even screech back at a Gryffindor. She threw the last of her toast down and left the table.
"I really should..." Alice stuttered to Frank, pointing to Isabelle. "I'll see you later."
Marlene tutted the boys and stuck her nose up in the air, storming off after her two friends with a flick of short hair. When all three girls disappeared, Sirius shook his head:
"Women," Sirius said wisely to Frank. "They're easily upset."
"And yet," He replied, looking away from vacant seats. "I doubt you'd find a woman who sulked for half an hour because they weren't voted best hair of the year after their OWL exams." Frank then picked up his Potions book and swung his legs over the bench, leaving the table and the hall.
Peter watched him go, confused. "Why'd he leave?" He asked James.
Potter dug his spoon into the bowl of porridge. "Probably because if he runs, he'll be able to catch up with Prewett and get a snog."
With everyone who wasn't his three friends gone, Remus let out an exhausted sigh. He dropped his fork as if it hurt to hold his grip for too long. For the last few nights, he'd been having odd dreams about the moon and how much more painful his transformations had become ever since he was a boy. It reminded him to be grateful that his friends understood what it was like, he couldn't imagine going to the whomping willow all alone.
The tree was buried a couple years before Remus had arrived, after Dumbledore came to his home and offered him a place at Hogwarts. He planted the Willow and charmed it to grow so Remus had a place of solice every few weeks. Dumbledore's charms had malifunctioned slightly and left the tree to become a dramatic and calamitous object which knocked out a couple of students every now and again.
It's name had come from how hard it would thump it's branches into the dirt and it's tactical defense system - beating the approacher to death.
However, the idea of turning into animagus to travel into the heart of the Whomping Willow was Sirius' idea in third year. They'd noticed that stunning the great tree caused it stress, the bark was beginning to rot and so the best way to get inside was to have a small creature dig through the grass, to press the knot at it's base and calm it down.
Becoming an animagi was more difficult that inventing the idea at thirteen years old. It took an entire year and a half, with several hand-butchered attempts to fix broken limbs, misplaced body parts and half-human, half-creature transformations.
Peter was the most willing out of the three of them to become the rodent who grabbed the knot, he wanted to help as much as he could. It was Padfoot and Prongs that wanted to be bigger, and stronger for Remus.
"Moony, have you had your potion?" James asked. "We can go to Pomfrey tonight, you know."
"No, no. It's not the full moon, but I can feel it coming. It's like an ache in my chest."
Sirius leaned over the table and put a cloth over the porridge Moony had slushed from his dropped cutlery, he offered a smile. "Don't let it get to you, mate. We still have a couple of days until you need to take the draught, we need you for Quidditch practice as well. Why not just go to sleep early?"
"I go to sleep early, every night. You'll think I'm a boring sod."
"No we won't," Potter grinned. "That would mean we didn't think that in the first place."
Remus laughed lightly, looking down as his dry hands. "Fine, I'll sleep early." He felt a little better knowing they would go with him to take the wolfsbane or to the whomping willow. Lifting his tired gaze, he offered a drowsy smile to Peter, who was watching him worriedly.
Sirius and James helped Remus carry his heavy books to their first class together, whilst Peter hurried off to grab the best seats in the class.
Isabelle didn't like being called cowardly. A deep paranoia began in her third period, Muggle Studies. What if the entire house were beginning to notice she couldn't live up to the Gryffindor name?
She was worrying so much that she could barely hold a conversation with Remus, who was sat beside her and asking about the ministry again. He was always genuinely interested in everyone, like he was trying to make sure you liked him.
"I love teaching," Isabelle offered. "I just don't like being taught by people who aren't passionate, you know?"
"That's a good way to look at things. I think you'd be an amazing teacher, better than babbling Burbage. She's just obsessed with muggles, not what we can learn from them."
"I think it's because we stress her out too much," Isabelle said, throwing a look back to Peter Pettigrew, James and Sirius charming their socks to dance across the table. Remus had arrived late and the only seat left was beside her, which he didn't mind.
Remus laughed lightly, scratching an old scab on his arm. "Yeah, I wouldn't be able to teach. I like healing."
"Have St. Mungo's offered a thesis for students to write?" Isabelle joked. He shook his head, a smile on his thin lips. "No," he replied. "I just need six O's at NEWT and then I'll try."
Professor Burbage interrupted at that time, beginning the class. She was an incredibly tall woman, but unlike Professor McGonagall she wasn't elegant or intimidating. Her hair was a grey mess, like dyed straw that had been electrocuted. With a large, oval face and pink lips, she gave the appearance of what a woman would look like if they were the grandchild of a hag.
"The Voynich Manuscript is one of the bigget mysteries in the muggle world," Burbage began eerily. She yanked on a tab stuck to the board, rolling out a large painted image of the book. "Muggles simply cannot figure out what it says. In 1812, the name of the Polish bookseller who stumbled across the text was?"
The Muggle Studies teacher pointed to Isabelle, who was grateful she'd read the lesson's book that morning. "Wilfred Voynich."
"Indeed, Miss Williams. Wilfred Voynich discovered the manuscript in Italy. For days, he stared at this marvellous book; What did the symbols mean? Who wrote it?"
The book looked dusty and old, it's painting showed several cut outs of the different pages, some smudged with tea marks and stains, others with strange drawings of plants and horned snails, or several winged elf-creatures running around a carpet of green.
"Anyone take ancient runes? Pettigrew, tell me what it says here." She pointed to a collection of dots on the drawing, there was no correlation and Peter was left bright red, unable to read a thing:
"I... Uh," he stuttered. "It says... is it Egyptian? Or —Mayan? I don't... uhm."
James interrupted. "It says: I'm a wanker who can't write."
"Mr Potter!" Burbage shouted, her cheeks going red. She jabbed a piece of chalk at him. "You speak like that again and I'll hand you over to Dumbledore."
"Sorry, Professor. Sometimes profanity just slips out, I didn't mean it."
Isabelle rolled her eyes. He was such a kiss-arse, cuddling up to the professor's attention and when Burbage lost the frown, she smiled at Potter and forgave him.
"Right," Burbage said. "Peter, you were wrong, the text doesn't actually say anything. It was written by a great medival wizard known as 'Tubertus the Trickster'. He wrote the manuscript as a grand joke for Richard, the I of England. So, in all honesty, the writing is a load of babble which amounts to nothing in the end."
This lesson would amount to nothing in the end, Sirius wanted to say. He was bored senseless at the back of the classroom.
"However," Burbage raised a hand. "It is still an excellent case study to show how muggles value communication. For hundreds of years, they fought to decipher the jumble of letters and drawings and still have never found what the language translates to. But the muggle world have found other modes of enclosing the communication gap which wizards did thousands of years ago."
She reached down behind her desk and pulled out a 746 English Mustard telephone, it was plugged into a massive battery which Burbage had obviously struggled to figure out. Picking up the reciever, she held it out to the awed wizards and witches.
"Who would like a go at modern muggle devices? I have the communcation identity of a muggle company and we are to try and buy their products."
Sirius threw his hand up. He loved being in front of the class and swaggered up to stand next to the muggle device on the vacant desk. Burbage told him to pick up the object attached by a 'muggle wire' and place it to his ear, explaining that he would engage in a muggle communication technique and was to haggle to buy posies.
Slightly befuddled, Sirius lifted it to his head and put it to his ear a couple of times.
"It's making a noise," he commented. A couple of the Ravenclaws sniggered. "Is this a... rin-ger?"
Professor Burbage took a step forward, pointing to dark box attached to the phone. "Black, put the number in I told you. Do you see the pad? Write it in, then it'll start ringing. That's the dial tone."
"Ah," he nodded, punching the digits in dramatically. James snorted.
The class watched in curious silence, well the purebloods watched. Isabelle knew how to use a muggle phone, there were several in her house but she guessed that the Black family were accustomed to owls and the floo network. Sirius stared at nothing in confusion, the ringing hurt his ears slightly.
When a voice appeared on the other line, the class nearly gasped. Sirius pulled the phone away from his ear, shaken by how odd the concept was. Burbage ushered him to put it back.
"Uh..." He stuttered. "I'm phoning to—"
"Yes?" A man interrupted. "Yes, hello? Do you mind spoeaking up?"
Sirius tried to speak louder but the other line repeated himself. Coughing, Sirius swelled up his lungs and screamed: "HELLO? HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME? IS — THIS — THE — SELLER?" Sirius shouted down the speaker.
He was yelling so loudly that Burbage was actually paying attention to the students for once. Her thick eyebrows were raised, a hand holding her chest.
The man on the other side of the line's voice crackled through, his voice was timid. "Y-yes? Who am I speaking to?"
"SIRIUS — BLACK!" Sirius bellowed back, as though he and the seller were on opposite end of the Quidditch Pitch. "I'M — INTERESTED — IN — THE — UH..."
"The posies, Black. Posies." Burbage said quickly.
Sirius frowned, his mouth open in slight confusion. He'd defeaned himself. "UH — THE — HOSIES."
On the other line, the man began stuttering. "Hoseries? Who is this? Is this a joke?"
"NO — SIR — I — ASSURE — YOU — I — WANT —"
"What number is this? Where are you calling from?" The seller raised his voice, clearly distressed. Sirius was trying to hide the smile on his lips. "I'll phone the police if you're not serious and this is some teenage hooligan-"
Pulling the phone from his ear, Black frowned at Burbage. "What is a po-lice?"
For the life of him, Sirius could never retain anything for more than five minutes. The muggle protection force was a case study they'd been over numerous times before. Burbage waved her wand in silent disappointment, enchanting the phone to slide from Black's hand and back to her desk.
James and Peter's quiet giggles erupted loudly, they both began roaring with laughter as if Sirius' incompetence was the greatest thing they'd seen all day. James' deep laugh with Peter's squeaky one made the class start laughing again. It was just the way those four ever did something. You couldn't help but find the happiness between them.
Isabelle's fundamental flaw for them was that James and Sirius alone ruined it for them.
Burbage fought to settle the class again, waving her hands around like a couple of fans to make them be quiet. She forced Sirius into a seat at the front, isolating him from his friends and forcing the class to quieten down. Burbage was petrified of the headmaster believing she was teaching the class to buy hoseries.
Sirius stopped laughing and left Peter and James to giggle to themselves at the back when the class moved onto the second chapter of their books. Remus was shaking his head and then put his head down to begin his work.
Isabelle slipped off into her own thoughts as the room stilled of laughs.
Putting the quill into her ink-bottle, she began scribbling down a couple of notes to help her NEWT revision. Burbage wasn't going to help them for the next forty minutes, she was nursing her forehead at her desk, big bushy hair now tired up in a tight bun.
Isabelle pushed her hair back over her shoulder, a couple of strands had messed up the title she'd wrote out in wet ink. Turning to the book, she boredly read:
Non-magic people (more commonly known as Muggles) were particularly afraid of magic in medieval times, but not very good at recognizing it. On the rare occasion that they did catch a real witch or wizard, burning had no effect whatsoever. The witch or wizard would perform a basic Flame-Freezing Charm and then pretend to shriek with pain while enjoying a gentle, tickling sensation. Indeed, Wendelin the Weird enjoyed being burned so much that she allowed herself to be caught no less than forty-seven times in various disguises.
Please answer the following question: What message does witch burning convey to the wizarding community? (10 marks)
Isabelle frowned at the question. She thought about it for a long moment and then put her quill to parchment, writing:
It tells us that witch burning in the fourteenth century was completely pointless.
It was nearly midnight, and Isabelle was lying on her stomach in bed, the curtains pulled back, her quill between her teeth and a large leather-bound copy of the Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles perched at the end of the bed. The assignment was to write about what the wood and core of your wand symbolized to muggles.
How, on Earth, did wood have anything to do with the social habits of British Muggles? Isabelle scratched her head. Burbage was so bloody vague.
Isabelle picked up her own wand, twirling it around her fingers. She'd gone through four wands to get to this one and it was worth all the trouble. A ten inch rosewood and Peruvian Vipertooth heartstring core wand.
"Ah," Ollivander said, eyes glittering with the sparks flying from the tip of the rosewood wand. "You are, no doubt, the owner of a gentle soul. The wand sees all. Rosewood wands pick owners who's aspiration is be kind. It is, of course, delicate and ten inches - the dragon heartstring should play well in protecting you in the future."
She liked her wand, but it wasn't particularly powerful when it came to the dark arts.
Just as she looked back down at her parchment to begin writing about rosewood's spiritual properties the dormitory door burst open and Lily entered with Marlene, Alice and Amelia on her tail.
"Ancient Runes is the bane of my life," Lily groaned as she landed on her bed, a depressed sigh erupting from her. "Why did I choose it? What good is deciphering the symbol of a monkey going to do for me?"
"I should've dropped out," Marlene huffed. She walked over to Isabelle's drawer and took out a bag of muggle nail polish. When she turned around, her make up victim was nowhere in sight. "Millicent!" she shouted. "Stop flirting with portrait and get in here!"
There was a clatter of noise and odd rustling, then Millicent hurried into the dormitory with her books bundled in her arms like she'd dropped them.
"Ser Jaime is a nice man." She huffed. "I like a man who can run faster than I can."
"He can't run, he's a painting."
Millicent threw herself into the bean bag chair between Alice and Marlene's bed. She held her hand out for her nails to be painted, the girls preferred the muggle polish because it stayed one colour unlike typical wizarding cosmetics, it also didn't erupt into song whenever you washed your hands.
Lily began buffing her her own nails, she was frowning deeply and taking it out on her hands. Isabelle asked what was wrong, worried her friend would buff straight to the bone if she wasn't careful.
"Sev seems like he's been in a bad mood with me since before summer. I tried talking to him and he blanked me," Lily said, a saddened look took over her face. "I haven't done anything wrong."
"Lily, there's only one type of man," Millicent explained smartly. "The miserable kind."
"Yes, Severus does seem like the latter, doesn't he? He's always swooping around like an overgrown bat," Isabelle commented, looking up from her muggle studies paper.
"I wish you would call him that to his face, Isabelle." Amelia said idly. "Maybe it would snap him out of his senses so he'd start acting like the world isn't on the edge of it's impending doom."
"Maybe it is," Millicent shot back. "Maybe Severus knows something we don't and he's deceiving us. I've been taught that that's the best thing a man can do in this world."
"Don't be stupid," Isabelle said, rolling her eyes. "You can't get all your wisdom from an actress who is no longer alive."
Amelia started laughing at Millie, whose eyes went large. "Maybe it's because it's one of the things that make me happy in life. Can't you stand up for the things which you have? Alistair? Before, you used to blend in and now you've blossomed with him. No offense, of course."
"No offense?" Isabelle repeated, her feelings hurt a little. "You just told me that I was invisible when I went out with Ali and I'm not meant to take offense?"
Marlene rolled back, facing Isabelle. "To be honest, I'm surprised that, that isn't your inspiration to be all over him. It would make you stand out more."
"And look like a slag?" Isabelle laughed, closing her muggle studies book. "You told me I was disgusting yesterday!"
"Well, you were snogging him in the common room. I saw his tongue." Marlene said, repulsed.
"You're all so awful." Isabelle sneered, throwing her book to the floor. It hit a tall pile of old notes from third year and knocked them over. Isabelle groaned loudly, making Lily burst out laughing.
"Oh, you do have the worst luck in the world."
"Only because you all bully me."
Amelia snorted. "We make fun of Lily, too. Except it's usually about James being completely obsessed with her."
Lily put her hand to her forehead. It seemed that Potter was everywhere this year; in every lesson, every conversation. If she ever had a dream about him then she'd decided she would definitely brew a draught of living death and knock back the entire cauldron.
"It's better than Black being obsessed with you. He'd be such a menace."
"I can't stand him - he's so... so narcissistic."
"I shan't bring myself to lie," Millicent interrupted Isabelle. "Sirius Black is the Gus Esdmund to my Lorelei." Isabelle stared at her in disbelief. Had this girl forgotten the years of torment he'd given her? All the times he'd said that she was the ugliest thing he'd ever seen? Millicent seemed to have forgotten the prank he and James played on her in fourth year - bewitching the trolls in the dungeons to chase her round the castle.
Isabelle watched Millicent sigh, "it astounds even me he was snogging Zelpha after our runes lesson."
"I can't say I agree with you on the first two points," Isabelle said icily. She hated Zelpha, a Gryffindor who was obsessed with the fact her grandmother was Zelda Fitzgerald, the great socialist and the 'first American Flapper Girl'. "They will be a great couple. He's acts like a pig and she is one."
"You moan about him a lot. In fact, you must think about him a lot and we know he's got a soft spot for specifics." Marlene smirked. "He likes the girls with darker hair than him."
"My hair is brown."
"It's black, you blind cow." Marlene groaned. She stopped filing Millicent's nails and gave her a look. "You know, sometimes I wish you were conceited, then you'd spend enough time looking in the mirror and actually know what you look like."
Grabbing a strand of hair, Isabelle frowned and stared at it. She swore it was dark brown but upon actually looking, she found her loud friend to be right. Throwing the piece back over her shoulder, she said. "That doesn't mean I'd ever go for Black. I have Alistair."
"Didn't you say last year that you've never said I love you back to Ali? How's that working out?"
"I... uh. Look, that's not fair. Come on," Isabelle asked as the girls all started cackling, shouting their innuendos at her. She shoved her face into the pillow. I do not sound like that.
"So you could go for Black."
Millicent threw her hand out of Marlene's grip, nearly splattering nail polish up the wall. "Yes!" She cried. "It would be so romantic!"
"How would it be romantic? He wouldn't be able to hold a conversation about anything intellectual like Ali can. He's-"
"No, no," Lily interrupted, she was red in the face was giggling. "You'd be blown away by how amazing he is at everything that doesn't involve talking."
"Lily! You hate him as much as I do." Isabelle growled, she threw herself back into the duvet.
"If anything, you'll be the one talking more," Marlene snorted. She made a gasping noise and cried: "Oh, Sirius, show me what to do with that fake wand!" The others began screaming with laughter.
"Want some extra credit? I'll be your muggle to study!"
"Oh, let me have a go on your broomstick! I promise, I won't fall!"
"Oh Sirius, demonstrate how you'd like to pound that bludger!"
"You four are ridiculous," Isabelle mumbled, as she tried to keep all the images from playing through her head and even worse as she began trying her hardest not to laugh with them.
"Ooh, Black! I don't remember them teaching that in Transfiguration!"
References Made in the Chapter:
- The thing about Sirius' eyes being like wasp stings is a reference to the fairy queen in Lynne Reid-Banks' novel The Fairy Rebel.
- The Voynich Manuscript is a codex hand-written with an unknown alphabet. No one has managed to decipher what it says.
- The prank between the marauders taking Zachary's badge is from the prank Fred and George pull on Percy - I found it so funny in the book and just couldn't not put it in!
- Zelda Fitzgerald was F. Scott Fitzgerald's wife and known for being the first flapper girl in America! I just love Fitzgerald's works and the truth of their marriage. Referring to her is a dedication to her memory.
- 'Bean Bag Chairs' were an inexpensive luxury during the 60s and 70s. Usually made out of leather and created by Italian designers like Gatti, Teodora and Paolini!
- Ser Jaime is a reference to Jaime Lannister from George R R Martin's a Song of Ice and Fire, a typically dashing member of Aerys II Targaryen's kingsguard and a flirt.
- "I like a man who can run faster than I can" - Gentlemen Prefer Blondes movie.
Replies:
sheswritingmore - thank you for commenting and pointing out my mistake! It's all fixed now:)
