"...the human being to lack that second skin we call egoism has not yet been born, it lasts much longer than the other one, that bleeds so readily."
– blindess
Six: Trials and Tribulations
The Black Lake's depths stretched out for miles, an endless colouring of murky velvet against my window. Through the reeds which grew around the corners, a few egeria plants hovered in front of the glass, drifting softly against the current. Leaning against the window, there was no harsh coldness, but a soothing warmth. Intertwining the abyss, the sparkling of candlelight and the green–I closed my eyes. Deep beauty; hidden beauty was what I adored.
"Emelia? Emelia, are you awake?" Daphne asked from far away, from her bed. I pulled myself from slumber and moved my creaking neck. "How do you sleep like that?"
"Years of practice," my voice came dry. Noel purred on my bed, curled up in a snooze.
Daphne slumped into her pillow. "It's so early," she groaned.
"Why are you awake then?"
"Your snoring is appalling. Also, I wanted to tell you that you will make it today."
Looking back into the water, I swallowed, "course I will."
"Come off it." Shooting Daphne a confused glance, I watched her groggy face turn serious. "You've been stressing all night. Look at you, your spit is covering the window. It's nothing to be embarrassed about."
"I'm not nervous," I hissed.
She sat up, pushing her fringe out of her eyes. "Emelia," she waned. "You will make the team again. That's all I'm saying."
In the beats of silence, I could only muster a stiff nod.
With a deep exhale, she slumped into her goose-feather pillows. "Besides," she said quietly, "you're the one who mentioned nerves." With that, she was gone from the world. Flora and Sybil weren't ones to wake up until you were physically bashing them on the head with a broomstick.
Our room had a grandfather clock next to the door. It was tall, like the one at the Burrow and all four of our faces were attached to handles. The tiny image of my face peered up at the sign above it: sport.
There was little point in showering before try-outs. I'd be coated in mud by the time it was over.
I quickly got changed, sparing a few seconds to peck a kiss on Noel's soft head. Purrs erupted and for a split moment, I wish I could curl back up with him and sleep until noon.
In the common room, three Quidditch-clad Slytherins were staring at the Notice Board. It was 6am and usually the players would get their gear on in the changing rooms. However, Marcus liked to make a point of his superiority on the Quidditch Trial Days.
Auditionees were petrified if they were faced with heavy-chested, stern faces.
"Not staring into a mirror, are we guys?" I asked, announcing my prescence. Marcus Flint turned around and shot me a grin. Miles Bletchley, last years Keeper, scoffed loudly and turned back to the board.
I'd always thought Marcus was an off-putting sight to behold. He was constantly sneering and his hair hadn't been washed properly in weeks, but he was a strategic Captain and that's what mattered. Even as a Weasley, he looked past it and had his eyes on the prize: the House Cup. I respected him for it.
As I neared, I saw they were analysing the poster tacked to the wall:
SLYTHERIN QUIDDITCH TRIALS
6AM — SUNDAY 11TH SEPTEMBER
(write name below )
"I think our appearance will make up for the diabolical list of tryouts we have," Malfoy said, eyeing the scribbled names. "At least mine would anyway."
Miles rejected this, commenting on the list, "Henry could be a good Seeker, but we can do better."
Malfoy's face turned sour. "I'm better."
Flint muttered, "...seen Grubb play before, he'd a good chaser but..."
"You have two of those already," I said proudly and hit his shoulder. "We're a team."
"Only because you're faster than you look." He shot me a sideways glance. "I've still got the scar on my eyebrow."
I gave him a look of disbelief, "if you didn't want a scar you could've asked Pomfrey to get rid of it."
"Scars make me look macho," he winked and rubbed the top of his face where a tiny white line could be seen poking above the hairline.
"I wasn't trying to hurt you," grinning, I looked back at the board. "I just wanted to make an impression."
"Yeah, I gathered. It was worth it in the end. You might be a Weasle but you stood out. Besides, are you really so sure you'll still be on the team after today?"
Internally, my heart pumped faster. I was glad we weren't eating before, I'd surely throw up. Externally, I raised an eyebrow, "I'm my own number one fan."
Graham Montague joined us seconds later. He yawned loudly and unapologetically, "it should be illegal to be awake this early." As he neared, he scratched his greasy, brown hair.
"Close your mouth," I snapped. "You haven't even brushed your teeth."
He blew a stream of morning breath into my face and I hissed, hopping out of the way.
"Your boyfriend is on his way down," he continued. I spluttered, repeating the one word which could make me turn bright red. "Warrington."
Folding my arms, I rolled my eyes at him. "I don't think stalking ends up with a date. It's all a front, he's trying to scare me into leaving the team on my accord."
Montague's slimy face lifted into a look of deep thought. I stared at it, waiting and dreading the answer. "Maybe," he finally said. "I wouldn't waste time with romance if I were him."
"You'd just push me off my broom and hope my neck breaks?"
His dark eyes turned icy and a grim smile crept onto his mouth. About to shoot a vile insult back at him, Flint interrupted the pair of us.
"Enough," he ordered. "We're a damn team. If the pair of you make it today, you will get along. I'm not a fucking babysitter."
Moving to the front of our little group, I shrugged off the chill in my bones. I should've stretched before coming down, now my limbs ached. My gaze caught a familiar name. "Caitus Carrow. Flora's brother?"
"Cousin," Malfoy said. "First year."
Carrows were everywhere. If I had the balls, I'd have shot out a sly comment about them breeding like mice. As a Weasley, that commented would've made me a laughing stock.
"Bloody everywhere, the Carrows are," Miles derided.
Malfoy went to open his fat mouth, his eyes on me and dancing with sneaky joy. I shot him a sinister look. "Don't even think about it."
Flint scratched his stubble, frowning. He ignored us. "Not happening. I even wrote 'no first years', can't they read?"
I shrugged, "they're just ambitious."
"I should be proud, but I'm just annoyed. Graham, you'll have to tell them to bugger off."
Built like a silverback gorilla, Montague could be as fierce-some as one if you riled him up enough. Not that I'd be the one to tell him that. The bastard would delight in such a fact.
When we left for the Quidditch Pitch, Cassius Warrington caught up with us. He complained about the time and lack of food we'd be running on. I ached to shut him up, telling him that the time was to test our willingness to be on the team. Without breakfast, we'd be fighting the nausea as well as each other. Flint could only tell Warrington to shut up.
The September sun rose early, casting a red hue over the grass. Heat basked my right cheek and my eyeball gently warmed in the blinding light. Still, the rest of my body was unable to control the chill from Autumn wind.
We passed a few Slytherins who were walking down to watch the try-outs. They were giggling between themselves, wrapping up in scarves and thick jumpers. Catching sight of the geared up team members, they burst into fresh whispers.
Instantly, the entire team began strutting. I resisted the temptation to laugh at them all.
"Right, you lot," Flint grunted as soon as we neared the entrance to the stands. He opened the fabric flap and we entered the wooden structure. To our left were the changing rooms which branched off depending on gender. "Changing rooms. Dump your shit, say hello to the newbies and meet here in five."
I fell behind purposely, watching Montague and Warrington as they walked into the male area. Nervousness crept into my throat as I recalled my third year.
Slipping towards the female changing rooms, I entered to the sound of gentle chatter. There were several second years, third years and one sixth year named Marian Jules. I ignored them all and turned back to the entryway of the room.
"Protego," I enchanted. A splutter came from the end of my wand, but the spell worked regardless.
The few girls stared at me, confusion written on their faces. "Warrington is a perv," I shrugged.
As I cleaned my broomstick down, focusing on the handle and tail, Marian approached with the Nimbus Two-Thousand and Four.
"Think I have a chance of getting on the team?" she snidely enquired.
I barely shot a glance. "Doubt it."
"I think I do. I'm trying out for Chaser you see." she continued, flicking her curly blonde hair behind her shoulder. "Montague and I fancy each other. He'd prefer me beside him on the field..." her thick Geordie accent rabbled on for several minutes, earning laughs from the other girls.
Finished cleaning, I finally got to my feet. "Am I a counsellor?" I snapped, silencing her great speech. "I really do not give a toss if you think you're better than me or not. You either prove it or you leave here with your tail between your legs like a kicked dog."
"I'd kick you like a dog," she hissed.
I laughed. "You'd kick a dog? What kind of sick-minded cow are you?"
Leaning forwards so her curled lip was inches from my face, she said, "I'm going to kick you off the team, Weasley."
I moved towards her, "I'd like to see you try." With that, I left the changing area and headed for the stadium. As I neared the door, I heard booming laughter followed by voices quipped with cruelty.
Coming to a stop, I hovered against the fabric wall. Breathing shallow, I waited and listened.
"She's an embarrassment to the team. Bloody brute," someone said. Warrington. I blinked, looking at the wall as if I could see through it. "There'll be hell to pay if we have a Weasley on the team again."
Montague's voice appeared seconds later, "if Flint wasn't so focused on the cup he'd be able to see the vermin he's allowing onto our pitch."
"Lucian Boyle has a good chance of overthrowing her place as Chaser." With hmph's of agreement, their voices began moving away. "You take her face wards and I'll take the right, if we scare her, she'll drop the quaffle and then Flint'll have to get rid of her."
Waiting for them to make it halfway across the pitch, I straightened with ice filling my body. Hearing the truth was quite different to my own thoughts.
"I'll show you..." my voice hissed as I brushed down my uniform and gripped my broomstick tightly. "I'll show all of you."
Hooking a leg over my broom, I flew straight up. As fast as I could, I waited for the cold to bite my cheeks and freeze the tips of my ears. Wind brushed my hair, threatening to pull the curls from my ponytail.
From up above, I could see the Black Lake and on it sat the giant ship. Its sails were down, but I could faintly see black figures wandering around the deck.
The carriage was no where to be seen on the Hogwarts grounds, so I assumed that it was their only mode of transport and took it with them wherever they travelled. Soon, it would be time for the introduction to the other schools and my annoying curiosity would be solved.
Gracefully flying back down, I took my place on the pitch. Just like last year, we were split into our preferred Quidditch positions. I hovered with Peregrine Derrick, Lucian Boyle and Marian Jules.
Becoming slits, I watched Warrington with venomous thoughts tainting my mind. He flew in front of me casually, looping around like a fool.
"I'm watching every one of you!" Flint he shouted from the ground. "Get started. Burrows your first on the left! Kipper, on your right!"
Our Captain threw two Quaffles into the air. I immediately dove, catching the ball with one arm. Tightly rising, I missed Marian Jules' murderous flying by an inch.
I flew towards the goal posts, watching Burrows nervously flying between each one. Mistake. If his attention was divided into three, then the decision was completely mine.
Flying straight, I narrowed my body and streamlined through the air. His eyes widened, petrified by the unknown. Moments before I collided with his broom, I raised my arm and aimed for the middle hoop.
Burrows had little time to register me pulling my weight up and shooting the Quaffle in a straightwards motion. It whizzed through the air and through the goal. My heart leapt to my throat.
"Burrows!" Flint screeched. "Off the pitch! Pissing your pants isn't going to help you in a game!"
With a smile on my face, I flew towards the middle of the field. My racing heartbeat thundered over the cries of foul play from the stands. There was a group of third years calling Burrow's name. He left the stadium with his head bowed.
Sliding my gaze across the sitting area, I saw Parkinson with Crabbe and Goyle. She was waving madly at the middle of the field, her arms circled the air in a love heart shape.
"Oh, please," I sneered at Malfoy as he flew around the stadium, his chest puffed out and a grand grin on his snotty face.
To my delight, Peregrine Derrick was kicked out by the time point-analysis was over. He was startled by Jules growling at him and so he dropped the Quaffle. Before it hit the ground, I caught it and had Flint screaming Derrick's name down my ear.
"Dickhead Derrick! You're out!"
By the time half of the try-outs were kicked out, we were all sweating and soaked in mud. Jerrard Smith was still in the running for Keeper and Lucian Boyle had proven himself to be a good Chaser. With Henry Watts fighting to be Seeker, the competition made us all feel tense as we realised we were in the finale of it.
"Right," growled Flint, his eyes red with determination. "Mock game. You'll be split into two sides. Do what you can to stay in my good books. The overall score doesn't matter, whats matters is how well you play.
Weasley, Boyle, Malfoy. Join them lot on the left side. Blaise, Montague, Watts. Jules and Warrington you're on the right too! Get in your positions!"
As I wiped mud from my cheek, I saw Malfoy hitting Blaise on the shoulder. "Good luck, if you need to make sure you throw the first punch," he said lightly.
"You can't bet on it." Blaise looked away from Malfoy as he started towards his team. He looked weary, but with his stocky build and fierce temper there was no reason to doubt he'd beat well.
"I don't want a clean game. I want you to fight for this team," Flint said as we mounted our brooms.
As fifteen brooms rose. We were off. The whistle felt like a fly buzzing against my ears as I allowed Jules to grab the Quaffle. Blaise grunted nearby, smacking the Bludger towards me. I ducked.
Jules smacked the Bludger towards Warrington and I took the opportunity to whizz between the pair, using my palm to knock the ball sideways. Lucian Boyle was on my tail and caught it to my amazement.
I followed him down the field, narrowly missing Malfoy and Watts, head-to-head after the Snitch.
"Boyle!" I cried, darting in front. He lobbed it and I unhooked my leg, giving the Quaffle a kick towards the goal posts. Alishia Kipper cried out with anger, her fingers unable to reach it in time.
Shooting through the lowest goal, Boyle cheered and high-fived my outstretched hand. Turning, I watch Montague smack the Bludger and Blaise faltered, barely able to process all of the events.
I glanced at Malfoy, who was whizzing around a goal post as flat as a board. Behind him, Warrington had the Quaffle under his arm.
His face murderous, he tucked his body against his broom and beelined towards me. Confused by his anger, I looked at Montague, whose murderous eyes were honed on me as well. He swung the bat thrice in his hand.
Adrenaline coursed through my veins, glancing between Montague, Warrington and the Bludger that was meant for me.
Montague's arm turned and he beat the Bludger in my direction. It shot like a bullet and with Warrington heading straight for me, I was trapped.
Time stopped.
Releasing a tense breath from my lungs, I commanded the broomstick to falter. We fell through the air with gravity as our greatest ally.
"Weasley!" a voice shouted. "What, the fuck, are you playing at?"
Green blurred around me, reminding me of portkeys for a wild moment. When I was sure my plan had worked, I grappled for my broomstick and solidified my body, willing the magic within me to work. The Nimbus sprang to life, fighting my fall with its power.
I came to a sudden stop which rattled my heart against its rib-cage. The world stopped spinning. Breathing heavily, I stared at the grass that was feet from my body. It worked.
Looking up, I watched the finale of Montague's Bludger smacking Warrington across the jaw. He screamed in pain and dropped Quaffle.
Jules screeched, "You bitch!" speeding her way down the pitch. She wasn't quick enough. The Bludger was already coming to its rightful owner.
It fell into my lap and I held it to my stomach. Blood raced around my body, fighting for my place on the Slytherin team. I soared up, darting over Jules and Bletchley-
"What the hell are you doing, Weasley?" Warrington snapped, swerving in front of me. A dribble of blood leaked from his bottom lip and his eyebrows were deep-set with anger. "Are you trying to kick me off the team?"
I could only laugh obnoxiously, "please! That's exactly what you're doing to me. You and Montague want me gone."
"And that's a reason for stealing the quaffle and nearly knocking me off my broom?"
"I'm teaching you exactly what vermin Flint's allowing onto the pitch," my voice was laced with hatred. Hovering closer, I all but tucked the Quaffle tighter to my side. His hands flexed around the broom-handle.
"Do you enjoy eavesdropping, Weasley?" he asked.
"Takes a coward to talk behind someone's back. I should've known you would be one, Warrington." Rolling the muscles in my shoulders, I sneered like an animal taunting prey, and headed for the goal posts. If they saw me as animal, then an animal I would be.
Clouds covered the sun, easing my tense vision.
I propelled around the edge of the stadium, sensing Warrington and Jules in close pursuit. Their Nimbus Exalibur's were stronger than mine, emitting low hums when at their peak performance. It was like a growl. Bile rose to my throat.
I didn't have to be faster, I had to be agile.
Diving, I sharply banked left and locked eyes with Lucian, who was flying towards me. A strategic thinker.
I felt Flint's eyes on me as he flew around us all. Grinding my teeth together, I prayed to Salazar and purposely let the Quaffle go. Boyle's arm stretched out like a viper to prey and he tucked the ball to him, shooting out of sight. Jules cursed loudly above me, flying overhead as she struggled to change course.
Lucian scored. His cry of joy echoed through the grounds and Slytherin onlookers applauded.
Warrington streaked past Boyle, in possession of the Quaffle. I stilled, hovering in the air and calculated the path he would take. Jules circled around him, reminding me of a ferris wheel.
I leaned forwards; Boyle in pursuit of them from behind and closing in - I sped up, adrenaline flooring me, a thirst to rip Warrington apart, I nearly bore my teeth –-
A Bludger pelting out of nowhere, skimmed my nose; I veered off course and let out a cry. Montague's large form whirred after the Bludger, a string of foul words falling from his lips.
In the crucial moments I'd lost, Jules now had the Quaffle in her possession.
Accelerating from my stumble, I fixed my eyes on her and didn't falter when I rammed my side against hers. Knocked sideways, she lost her tight grip and I yanked the Quaffle out of her grasp.
Near the goal posts, Malfoy was a blur of black and green. His arm was outstretched, inches from the Snitch. I had to score and take down Warrington if it was the last thing I did.
Rising into the air, my eyes locked with Jules, who had flown around the Pitch and was out for blood. She looked murderous; her plan to smash her body against mine was as obvious as a naked house-elf.
A wry grin crept up my lips as the whir of another Nimbus Excalibur caught my ear. I held my back straight, blocking as much of the player behind me as possible. Jules bent lower, her chin nearly touching the handle.
"Warrington, no!" Pansy screeched nearby. Someone called for Jules, but the entire stadium turned into a blur of noises and whizzes.
Up close, Jules' face was aged with angry wrinkled. Her mousy hair was sticking out of the ponytail as odd angles and her eyes were flickering flames.
"Fuck you, Weasley!" she screamed.
Diving again, I heard the crunch of Jules and Warrington's bones above.
In a blunder of cries, hurrahs and curses, those noises were the most beautiful and enticing things to befell upon my ears. I threw the Quaffle past its Keeper and listened to Malfoy's shouts as he caught the Snitch moments later
Sundays were a lazy affair. After Quidditch trials, I left quickly and spent the rest of the day in the Library with Astronomer's Weekly cracked open. In that relaxation, I found my hip was aching from the fierce body-bash with Jules.
Lee Jordan found me soon after by request of my older brothers. His itinerary was preparation for Ludo Bagman's forceful and insulting letter. After such a successful morning, I nearly skipped out of the Library at the chance to brew my evil thoughts aloud.
We headed for the Gryffindor Common Room together talking about the Slytherin Quidditch players.
"I really can't tell you," I said politely. "You're friends with the enemy."
"The enemy?" he grinned. "Puh-lease, I'm the commentator. I have no side."
"Everyone has a side."
"I'm middle ground."
Scratching my head, I didn't believe a word. "Even for a Slytherin?"
Raising a quizzical brow, he thought about it for a moment. We arrived in front of the Fat Lady and he said: "fairy lights." As we entered the warmth, Lee finally answered. "Well," he said. "You're a Weasley too."
"See? You have a side." I spotted two ginger drama queens in front of the fireplace, a long roll of parchment stretched out on the coffee table.
"Maybe it's just redheads," Lee said gently, his voice smooth like butter. I scoffed as words failed me. Only my gaze could follow him as he took his place on a leather chair.
Settling on the rug so I could enjoy the blazing heat of the fire, I discussed the best place to start the letter.
"I think we should start with... 'Dear Knobhead'," I put forward proudly. "Dear Knobhead, your deceitful, unapologetic ways are at an end. We have informed the Ministry of your-"
George raised a hand at me. "We can't say that, Mia."
Pouting, I blinked at him. "Why? He is one."
Fred's frown was serious. He used his hands animately, "yes, we know that. But we can't tell him we've involved the Ministry. He'll know it's a lie." I gave in, watching as they wrote Bagman's full name. George's handwriting was better than Fred's, I'll give him that.
Puzzling, Lee tested, "the toxic stench of your..."
"Oh!" I said, "we didn't think we could meet the human version of a sack of manure until we met you. The toxic stench of your... of your deceit..."
"Has forced us to take action..." George scribbled down.
Lee grinned widely. "Oh, that's good. That's good. We need disgusting metaphors to get out point across." The toothy smile spread onto his face caused my chest to become warm. I realised he was making me feel embarrassed.
Fred didn't notice. "I think we should put another insult in there."
"It'll be too childish, don't you think?" George murmured.
"Nah, if he wants to play games then we need to hit him with everything we're good at."
Picking my nails, I said: "if my dog had your face, I'd shave its arse and teach it to walk backwards."
George and Fred snorted but shook their head. "Too far. We've got to be slightly professional still. Uh, dickhead?"
"Bint."
"Maybe dosser."
"Muppet."
Lee's eyes lit up. Hitting the nail on the head, we used that word instead of a swear as it emphasised the childish nature of Bagman. Writing several more lines, divulging into the deceptive nature of Leprechaun gold, I discovered that the man had a history of gambling. It had begun with boxing when he was a teen. How Fred and George knew, I didn't care to ask.
"Oh, I'd go a few rounds with Bagman," I clenched.
Fred waved me off. "He's over six foot and you're half the size of Ron, despite being twins."
"I'd tear his kneecaps apart then," I grumbled.
Together, we insinuated violence if he continued to ignore the letters. Legally, we couldn't claim he knew about the Leprechaun gold.
"You're a thief who..." I started.
"No that sounds like we're accusing him," George murmured, scratching out my suggestion. "We've got to be careful."
"You have to be forward. He's clearly aware-"
"Shut up," Fred hissed quickly. We all looked up at the Common Room and found Harry Potter watching us from the sofa. He blushed and put his head down, scribbling away hurriedly.
"Nosy git." Pulling a fresh ink pot out, I set it in front of George.
"By the way," I said as we left the Common Room together. "Now I've helped you, you need to help me." My eyes danced with mischief, to which my brothers looked overjoyed.
"Are you scared, Noel? Scared of the bid bad bully?" I cooed, brushing a hand over his relaxed side. With a gentle mew, he closed his eyes and began dozing. "No, I'm not either."
Sybil, munching on a colour-changing liquorice, turned to me. "Do you think he'll make it on the team?"
"Definitely not," Flora insisted. "According to Pansy, Flint was furious with him."
"Yeah. He fell off his broom, didn't he?" Daphne asked.
Nodding, I began hooking my laces back into my Quidditch boots; having cleaned and scrubbed the mud off. "Jules' was going way too fast. Neither of them had a chance."
"Shouldn't Cassius be angry at her then?" Flora asked.
"Should be. She was acting like a child, but they were both after me."
The world outside of our dormitory had a blueish tint as the moon shone down on the Lake. Silver shimmers peaked through the window, illuminating the underwater greenery.
My dormitory shared a bounty of magical sweets and cakes, nicking them from the dinner tables so we could have an evening of peace.
Flora held a chocolate frog in her hand, catching it with the other when it tried to escape. "Millie was saying that last year's team members played the best. Do you think?"
"I suppose. Montague was an evil bastard, as usual, he beat the Bludger like it was the head of an animal."
Daphne interrupted, "wait. Millie? Millie? You've been with Millicent Bullstrode all day?"
Flora's cheeks went pink, she nearly dropped the frog. "Well I..."
Sybil groaned obnoxiously, "Flora! I thought you'd broken up?"
"I can't help it! She's just..."
Daphne stood up and ripped the remaining chocolate frog parcels off of Flora's lap. "A bitch," she hissed.
"You don't know her like I do."
"We know enough," I rolled my eyes. "You deserve better."
"And your disastrous love life is enough experience for you to tell me how to deal with mine?" Flora's mouth violently bit into the head of the frog. "Or should I say; non-existent one."
A packet of muffins hit my chest. Letting out an oomph, I fell back into my bed and stared up at the canopy.
"This bullying is too much for me," I dramatically cried.
"Boo hoo. Choke," Flora laughed. "I bet you can't eat one of those in one go."
Raising an eyebrow, I pushed myself into a sitting position and held the cakes in my hand. The girls watched me, with smiles of amusement.
I tore open the packet and pushed the entire muffin into my gob and began chewing. Not a drop of chocolate escaped and I swallowed it without complaint.
Flora stared at me in disbelief and began clapping. "You absolute barbarian." I picked up another one and threw it at her. She caught it with a single hand and gave me an expectant look.
"Eat it," I ordered.
"No."
With a grin, I leaned forwards. "You're saying you can't eaten a little muffin?" I teased. Flora shoved the cake between her teeth in a split second and nearly choked.
Sybil, horrified, started, "how, on Earth, do you-"
"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" cried Daphne suddenly. I rolled backwards, laughing loudly. She shouted it again after we dared her to eat two muffins in one go. With chocolate around her teeth and mouth, we began crying with laughter.
Flora's laugh was more of a snort in my opinion. Once she got going, the giggles became oinks and she turned as pink as a pig.
"Aye, laddie. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" I shouted, covering one of my eyes. "I'm Mad Eye Moody, me wooden leg was chomped off by a shark! Me walking stick is carved from spine of the rotten rubies of Merlin! Argh!" Daphne howled with laughter, clutching her sides.
Flora Carrow threw a dark blanket at me and I shoved it over my head, peering out like a cockroach beneath a rock.
"There's only one boy who's ever survived!" I continued, hobbling forwards. "And he's sat in this room!"
Flora wailed dramatically, pretending to be Harry Potter. "Ooo Professor!" she cried, "let me kiss your arse professor! Want to see my broomstick professor?"
I stuck a hand out of the cape, twisting a finger into a hook. "THREE UNFORGIVABLE CURSES?" I cried. "Argh! In my day there were five hundred a forty two! I'm nine hundred years old! You cretins don't know a thing about death! When I was fourteen, if we died we just stood back up!"
Daphne wiped a tear from her cheek. "Oh, Salazar!" she snorted. "When he turned Malfoy into a ferret. I nearly combusted trying not to laugh."
Breathing heavily, I threw myself onto my bed and narrowly missed Noel's curled up body. "He had it coming," I said giggled.
"Sometimes striking someone in the back is the best way to go," Flora disagreed. "Gods, it was brilliant seeing how fast Moody's magic worked. Malfoy didn't even get chance to breathe."
Sybil whined, "oh, I wished I'd have seen it! Malfoy still turns bright red if you ask him about it."
"Maybe if he had some constant vigilance he wouldn't have been humiliated." We all began laughing again; spending the rest of the night happily gossiping in our little world away from the rest of it.
Comments:
BohemianBadger - it's okay! Thank you for reviewing again! I'm blessed with a loyal reader aaah! Glad you enjoyed it and saw Emelia's Slytherin side coming out its proving to be quite difficult merging a Weasley with the House to be honest ahaha x