Monday
September 7, 1977
Great Hall
I'm sitting in the great hall, rather unhappily, I might add, all by my lonesome at the end of the Gryffindor table. Far (yet too close for comfort) to my left, I can see Black sitting across from Dorcas, in my rightful spot, so obviously, I am pretty annoyed. Merlin's fluffy knickerbockers, I can see them laughing conspiratorially at me!
I had detention with Black last night, and let me tell you, it was terrible. He spent the whole time trying to talk to me, which was awful, and I spent the whole time effectively ignoring him (aside from asking why, after all the detentions he's had, he can't polish a bloody trophy correctly, which then led to me telling him exactly where he could stick his rag), but anyway. I am not looking forward to our rendezvous, or as he affectionately refers to it, our date tonight.
Oh! Here comes Mark Abery, the hot fifth year that I have a niggling suspicion my precious Charlotte has a small crush on. I couldn't say why he's coming over, but, oh, look, he's going to sit down. I'm not complaining. I hope he doesn't mind if I write and talk.
"Hi, Evelyn is it?" He asks as he sits down next to me.
"That's Miss Bishop to you, Mark Abery," I say, attempting to bring out my inner McGonagall. It's a well-known fact that within every Gryffindor there is a McGonagall just waiting to burst out.
He looks surprised. "Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Bishop, I, uh, didn't realise that-"
"Settle down, settle down. I'm pulling your leg." Works every time. "It's just Eva."
He smiles awkwardly, "Oh, okay then, just Eva. I would introduce myself but it would seem as if you already know my name...?"
Ahh. Probably should avoid mentioning that every single female in the school (McGonagall and Pince excluded) (most likely) has thought about how beautiful his face is at least once.
"To what do I owe this pleasure, Mark?"
"Oh," he says, grabbing a plate and pulling some toast onto it. "Well I've been struggling a bit with some of the charms we've been learning, and so I asked Flitwick if he could tutor me, but he said that I should ask you if you would be able to do so."
"Did he indeed?" Flitwick, you beautiful elf.
"I'm terribly sorry to just ask you this out of the blue, and it's alright if you've got better stuff to do, I know I would, but I've got it in my head that I want to be an auror when I leave Hogwarts, and to do that I need to get at least an E in my OWL, and so it would be terribly good of you to help out at all. The professor said you were the best."
I absentmindedly glanced to my left, to see Black staring at Mark with narrowed eyes and Dorcas laughing at him. It seems she's gotten over the mucus incident then.
"Uh, um, Eva?"
Ahh yes, Mark. "Sure, Mark. I could help you out, with such a compelling argument and all."
He starts to spread plum jam onto his toast. "You would? That would be bloody fantastic! Oh, pardon me, sorry. That would be really great!"
What a gentleman! Black should take lessons from this fine specimen of a human being. How sad that hanging out with Remus hasn't rubbed off on him. "No problem. Do you want to owl me what you need help with and I'll tell you when I'm free. I just got out of the hospital wing, you see, and I have a wee bit more work to do than usual."
"Oh yes," said Mark. "I'd heard you got hit." He blushed, "I, uh, well hate to ask this, but I also heard that-" He suddenly stopped abruptly at the sight of something over my left shoulder.
"Well, well, well. What have we here?"
I don't need to turn around to know who it is.
"Black, haven't we already spent enough time together? I'm awfully tired of your presence after last night."
Mark suddenly goes red.
Merlin's bloody pink bloomers why does this always seem to happen to me?
Black snorts, sitting down beside me. "So who are you?" He asks Mark.
"Mark Abery." He says.
"Well it's bloody good to meet you, Mark," Black says, his mouth curling oddly at the ends. "I'm Sirius Black, of the Black family line, rogue Gryffindor, member of the marauders." He stops to let this supposedly impressive introduction sink in. "And this here, my friend, this marvellous marble-mouthed specimen of a human, is out of your league."
Bloody hell, Black! What sort of game do you think you're playing at? I am certainly not marble-mouthed! I have perfect control over both my marbles and my mouth! (It's Lily you've got to look out for).
I think Mark's skin is showing a dangerous resemblance to a tomato around about now. I decide to save him the pain of speaking to the immature seventeen-year-old in front of him and hit Black on the back of his head. I can hear laughter coming from the Dorcas end of the table.
"Ouch, Bishop! You do know this could be registered as child abuse in the muggle world!"
"More like animal abuse," I shoot back. He narrows his eyes. "You know what Black, I hate you with the fiery passion of a thousand suns," I say, getting up to go sit with Dorcas, leaving Mark looking awfully surprised and Black vaguely confused.
Black recovers faster than I would give him credit for and replies with, "Yeah? Well that's not the only fiery passion you have for me!"
Dorcas absolutely erupts with laughter and I decide to leave the Great Hall in lieu of staying near any of these people for another bloody second.
Monday
September 7, 1977
BLOODY POTIONS
I must admit I'd forgotten about the potions fiasco until I walked into the classroom (debating the best way to eat eggs for breakfast with Lottie) and saw Lily's chagrined face sitting next to Potter at his potions desk. Directly in front of them was Black, grinning into a piece of parchment, the spot next to him, unfortunately empty.
My cauldron was dangling off of my arm and I had an awful urge to 'accidentally' whack him in the back of the head with it. Unfortunately, Slughorn walked in just as I was about to do the deed, and I realised that I really didn't need another detention. Also, unfortunately, Black seemed to have spotted me.
"Evelyn!"
Stupid git.
"Dearest Evelyn."
Bloody stupid git.
"Care to take a seat next to your new potions buddy? I made sure no one else took it. Wouldn't want anyone messing up the special thing we've got going on here."
Bloody stupid git-head Black.
I took my time shoving his parchment and books over to his side of the desk so that I could put mine down. I may have accidentally shoved a little too hard, causing his quill and cauldron to be briefly airborne. It's a lucky thing Potter caught the cauldron before it hit the ground and broke. Lucky for Black, I mean. I would have happily had his cauldron break if it meant that he wasn't able to participate in today's potions lesson.
"We have no special thing, Black."
From somewhere around me I heard Potter whisper, "Sexual tension," to which Lily's reaction was a slap around the head and a huffy glare. Black shot Potter a funny look. Like he was constipated or something. It made his eyebrows look funny, anyhow.
"Whatever you say, Evelyn darling." Black taunted. (Yes, taunted).
I could murder that mutt. Or maybe set another nice pair of antlers on his noggin.
Slughorn proceeded to give a brief explanation of the steps involved in the making of today's potion, shrinking solution, some of which I thought may be beyond Black's capabilities, given that they required patience and a basic knowledge of colours and numbers.
"Are you going to cope with the amount of concentration required of you to brew this potion, Black?"
He looked at me with one raised eyebrow and said, "Are you gonna cope with the amount of sheer talent you are going to be working alongside for the rest of the year?"
Oh my flAMING HIPPOGRIFF, he is such an uppity prat. How on earth am I going to work with him without stabbing someone?
For the majority of the lesson, I ignored Black. The potion making was going fine, until Black put double the amount of lionfish spines than he was supposed to into it and blew up our desk, consequently knocking my cauldron and its contents to the ground. I was able to quickly cast a levitation spell to keep my cauldron from breaking, but no such luck for Black. Which is VERY unfortunate as it turns out, because now we have to use the same cauldron. MY cauldron. To brew a potion TOGETHER. Ugh. Why did this not occur to me before?
I notice Black doesn't seem too upset by this turn of events. Slughorn, however, looks exasperated. "Mr Black, ten points from Gryffindor. I expected something better of someone of your calibre."
So I'm writing this now whilst we wait for the potion to turn purple, which takes a long while apparently. And I'm making Black double-check with me every single ingredient he prepares is the required amount for the step we are going to do.
"Hey Evelyn," Black says, looking over my shoulder. "You wanna snog? I'll give you fifteen galleons!"
He is such a git.
"Twenty galleons?"
A total bloody idiot.
"Class," Slughorn says, hopefully interrupting Black's attempt to count to a number higher than twenty. "In preparation for your NEWTs at the end of the year, we shall be revising the potions that we went over last year. This means that tomorrow in our lesson we will look at some of these potions, and then on Thursday we will be making one of your choice. You better choose wisely, as the best potion will win thirty points for their house."
Damn. With Black I have no hope. At least we've got Lily. I look at her over my shoulder, and she seems pleased.
"For homework, write a one and a half foot essay on the effects of shrinking solution."
We all know what the bloody effects of shrinking solution is, Slughorn! It shrinks things! I think he's been eating a bit too much crystallised pineapple.
But anyway, it looks like the potion is verging on violet, and Black is trying to sneak looks into my diary, so I'm gonna leave it there.
Monday
September 7, 1977
DADA
Black managed not to blow up our potion. How on earth he managed to get an E or above for potions in his OWL is beyond me.
I then had Ancient Runes which was really good because Remus sits next to me and we're still only translating basic runes. (I might have accidentally pretended I didn't know how to translate a couple so Remus could help me). (Lily punched me in the arm on the way to Defence Against the Dark Arts).
That's where I am now - Defense Against the Dark Arts. Lottie is doing some sort of special study with Professor Kettleburn (she wants to become a magizoologist when she leaves Hogwarts), so she's left Lily and me to the childish whims of the marauders.
However, it seems as if the boys, for all the outlandish confidence they exude on a daily basis, are fairly quiet when Professor Murphy starts to talk about werewolves. I couldn't tell you why.
I would normally be jumping for joy, except Remus seems to be looking a little ill, and, well, that's reason enough for me to feel slightly more subdued about the whole situation.
"Now students," Professor Murphy says. "Can anyone tell me five signs that identify the werewolf?"
It's a wolf. Fur? Sharp claws? A tendency to rip people apart?
Black lazily raises his hand in the air whilst it looks as if Potter and Peter stifle giggles.
"Mr Black?"
"Five signs, you say Professor? Well, that would be..." He counts them out on his fingers. "...a shorter snout than a normal wolf, a tufted tail, human-like eyes - pupils more specifically, fur," He glances at Remus, "and the fact that they are incredibly good-looking."
Remus snorts.
Murphy raises an eyebrow. "Would you like to repeat that last point again, Mr Black?"
Black grins. "Possibly the most distinguishing feature of a werewolf, is that they are incredibly good-looking."
I can't tell if Professor Murphy is annoyed or actually considering the idea.
"Well, I might have given you points if you hadn't added most distinguishing. Werewolves in their human form could be 'incredibly good looking,' as you put it, if they were born that way. Werewolves in their animal state, however, do have the characteristics you mentioned, but are decidedly not good looking creatures."
Well, what do you know?
Black looks surprised and slightly annoyed.
Remus looks well again.
Good job Murphy.
Monday
September 7, 1977
The Great Hall
DADA finished without much incident, but I have just now realised that I have both quidditch practice and detention tonight, which means the Bloody Prat Duo have stolen my afternoons and evenings away from me. What's a girl to do?
It's lunch time now, thank Merlin, and Lily is asleep with her head on her arms. I have no idea why. Now that I think about it, Lily was awake when I woke up at one-ish, so maybe she couldn't sleep. Poor girl. Probably having nightmares about Potter.
Ooh look! There's Mark Abery. He's just smiled at me! I nudge Lottie and he smiles at her too and she blushes. Typical. I need to get Charlotte a boyfriend.
I'm eating a beef sandwich, and it's really excellent.
Super good.
I'm bored.
Maybe I should talk to someone?
Ugh, Lottie's started a conversation with Marley and Alice about the Phoenix Fiends, Lily's asleep, the marauders are nowhere to be seen (not that I would talk to them anyway), Dorcas is hanging with her sixth-year friends. Maybe I should get more friends? Like I don't even know who anyone else is. No, wait - there's a Ravenclaw called Elena Prinz, she's nice; she sits with Lottie in Care of Magical Creatures and she always smells good. She's sitting with Hol Buggery and that Hufflepuff girl that's almost-ish-not-really-I-hope as good as me at charms though so I can't approach her. Oh no, he's looking at me, Hol, that is. He's standing up? He's walking towards the Gryffindor table? He's-
Oh damn.
"Mind if I sit here, Eva?"
Yes, I do mind. "No, I don't mind."
Great. He's sat down.
"So, how're you going today?"
"I'm dandy. And, also, you know, out of interest, why did your mother, out of all the names out there, pick Hol?"
You know, for the life of me, I can't work out why I decided to start off a conversation by asking someone why their mother chose that name. Probably did it to throw him off guard, eh?
Imagine me, however, saying this with a lot of pauses. It probably took about thirty seconds for the entire sentence to come out of my mouth.
He looks quite confronted for a second and then purses his lips in annoyance. I kid you not, literally purses them. "It's short for Hollard. Hollard Eustace Buggery."
Well, Hollard's not so bad.
"Anyway, Eva, short for Evelyn, I was, uh," he pauses and looks around awkwardly, "wondering if you could assist with some charms work I'm struggling with."
Why do all of these people keep coming and asking me about help with charms? I must be building up a pretty good rep, eh?
"Depends on what sort of work."
Got to keep them on their toes, right?
"It's sort of, uh, complicated unlocking charms? I can't really seem to find any past alohomora and I was wondering if you knew any stronger ones and how to use them."
Unlocking charms? What's he got to unlock? A fridge? A car? Actually, in hindsight, both his parents are wizards so he wouldn't know what a car is.
"What do you need to know for?"
"I, uh, well, I, uh, need to, uh, know, uh, because of an, uh, extra credit, uh, homework... thing, that I, uh, have to, uh, do for, my mum."
Wowzers.
That was believable. Oh well.
"Why can't you ask Flitwick?"
"I did," he says quietly, looking somewhere just to the left of my head, "but he said he was too busy and to ask you."
See, he just looks awkward. I couldn't tell you why.
But did he? Flitwick! What a lovely little elf-man. "Well there's stronger ones I guess, like apertus and agorinor. But the wand work's a little tricky."
Except if you're me.
He stands up suddenly, as if someone was calling him with a dog whistle or something. "Thanks Eva. I'll be in touch," he says and then speed-walks out of the great hall.
Merlin's bloody cataracts that was a strange encounter.
Monday
September 7, 1977
Gryffindor Dorm
I only have a few minutes to write this as I have to go to detention, but basically herbology and transfiguration passed without much incident, if you don't count Black transfiguring my left shoe into a love-heart shaped pillow and then not being able to change it back again, whilst on my foot, I might add. I don't think I'll ever get the fluff out of my pores.
Then I had dinner, and then quidditch practice, made okay only for the presence of Marley and Dorcas. I swear, I don't know how I'd survive without them, especially with bloody perfect-Potter as bloody quidditch captain.
I couldn't really tell, but I felt like he purposely tried to hit me with that bludger.
Anyway, I just got up here after having a shower in one of the prefects bathrooms, and I have about five minutes before I'm due for my detention in the trophy room with Black. Great.
Monday
September 7, 1977
Gryffindor Dorm
Whoever invented the concept of detention was a bloody stupid idiot.
Whoever invented having detention with boys that hate you was a bloody bloody stupid idiot.
I left the dorm lickety split after I finished writing my last entry in my diary and guess who was waiting for me in the common room.
"Evelyn! Fantastic! I'll walk you to detention."
"I can walk myself, Black."
"Great. Then you can walk me too."
Stupid git.
I tried my best to ignore him but he kept telling me these atrocious jokes that were not funny whatsoever.
"Hey Evelyn, what did the wizard order at the hotel? Broom service!
Hey, hey, Evelyn, what kind of wizards have their eyes closest together? The smallest ones!"
Terrible. Simply terrible.
It took too short a time to get to the trophy room, where we were greeted by Filch who gave us some rags, a bucket of water, and strict instructions not to use magic, as he would be periodically checking in on us to make sure we were doing it right.
Filch left, leaving me alone with Black, who was pulling a piece of parchment out of his pocket. He whispered something to it and unfolded it, black lines, writing, and moving dots suddenly appearing on it.
"Hey Black? What's that?"
"Ssh," he whispered, waving a hand at me, "Filch is outside the door. Start scrubbing!"
For some reason, unbeknownst to my better judgement, I listened to him, picked up a rag and started polishing a trophy. Within seconds Filch had opened the door and popped his head in, narrowed his eyes at Black and 'hmmd,' then left.
As soon as Filch shut the door Black grinned and sat down, putting the parchment on the floor in front of him.
Naturally, I walked over to see what on bloody earth it was, and it looked like a map. A map of Hogwarts? And those dots - whoah, they're moving! Wait - they've got names on them- holy- holy hippogriff what is this magic?
"Pretty cool, huh," Black said, pointing his hand at two dots near the middle. "Look, that's us." I looked closer and I could see - in the trophy room, two dots reading Sirius Black and Evelyn Bishop. I could also see Filch walking away down the corridor.
"How did you get this, Black? Did you steal this? Does McGonagall know?"
Black frowned, folding up the map. "Hold on a sec there, Bishop. I don't steal things. I made it. Well, James, Remus, Peter and I did anyway. And no, McGonagall doesn't know about it. Do you think we'd still have it if she knew about it?"
"Well, no, but how did you?"
"I'm smarter than you think I am Bishop. We all are. Except for Peter, maybe. He's got a couple screws loose, well at least I think he does. Although, anyone that does divination's probably got a couple screws loose anyway."
"I do divination!"
"I know you do, Evelyn," he grinned.
Rude!
"But how on bloody earth did you make it, Black?" I mean seriously! How on bloody earth did he make it?
"Can't tell you, I'm afraid. I've probably told you too much already. James might kill me if he finds out I've told you about the map"
He might? Merlin's shoelaces, what on earth inspired Black to show me this? Only one way to find out, I guess.
"Then why did you tell me, Black? Don't you hate me? Is this some plot to get Potter to kill me for knowing things I'm not supposed to?"
Black looks awfully shocked for a second. "I- what?"
Okay, maybe the Potter thing was a bit far-fetched.
"I don't, I don't hate you Eva, I, how on earth did you get that idea?"
He what? "Well you, you're always, you just, do those things, that you just do!" Eloquent as always. Black's probably put a hex on my mouth or something.
Well of course he hates me? Doesn't he? He picks on me, he always has? It's like Potter and Lily, aside from the fact that Potter obviously has a massive crush on Lily. I think so, anyway. Poor girl. But of course Black hates me!
"I honestly don't hate you, I've never hated you. I just.. well it doesn't matter. And I thought I would tell you because you can keep a secret. And I thought it would make detentions more interesting. And sometimes James is too cautious. And it's just a map, a bit of magic. It's cool. I thought you'd like it, I wasn't expecting you to go yell stupid things about me hating you.
"Well, just, go polish a trophy or something useful."
I didn't know how to react, I mean, Black was acting all strange. I just kind of stood up and started polishing trophies after that. He did too. We didn't talk at all for the rest of the detention.
As soon as Filch came to let us go I practically ran out of there. I still don't know why he showed me that map, or why what he said upset me. I'll talk with Lily and Lottie tomorrow and see what they think. They won't tell anyone about the map.
What was I bloody thinking, attempting to have an unsuperficial conversation with Black? The git drives me nutty!
AN: Hi everyone, thanks so much for reading! Thank you also to everyone who has newly started reading this, it means a lot!
A double thanks to my friends who haven't judged me for writing this lol I have no regrets and a special thanks to Catriona for editing my work so I don't sound like an illegible fool. She also wrote the majority of the potions scene so I hope you enjoyed that!
If you've enjoyed the chapter pleased comment ideas or tell your friends!
Love you all oxo