author's note: so sorry this took so long! please review, please? I am begging for feedback x
warning: does contain foul language.
Disclaimer: all place, characters and ideas belong to J.K Rowling. I own nothing except for Isabelle.
Chapter Nine: Queue The Training Montage
Five Days Later
The sun was warm. It had the potential to be warmer, but that would've defeated the point of you actually enjoying it.
Sirius opened his eyes in wake of it's glare. It took a moment for the brightness to dull in his vision and he focused on the great expanse of land ahead of him. The West Side of Hogwarts held the Viaduct, the Viaduct Courtyard and rolling hills that stretched up to meet forest.
There were a few students on the bridge, peering out of the arch windows and into the chasm below. In Sirius' first year, he spread the rumour of a great stone troll that lived at the bottom.
The lie had spread so fast that it wasn't just one, but whole herd of trolls who climbed up the rock-walls and crawled over the castle at night; stealing students away as they slept.
Clearly, Sirius' childhood legacy was dying out.
"Mr Black? Can I suggest bringing your attention back into the classroom?" Slughorn asked.
On the blackboard was a diagram of a Wicca alter. There was several perfected drawings of different ingredients that the class could choose to use in the potion - this branch of apothcary meant it was about more than just what was in it, but the expression of vocal magic.
Slughorn went back to drawing as he spoke. He sounded excited; advanced potions was his favourite.
"Wiccan is a branch of magic which you will be exploring in the next two years," he said. "It's mainly associated with Divination - the connection between Earth and the human soul. Wiccan celebrates the cycles of the moon and the sun which is why we created the wolfsbane and are creating the Aphrodisiac of Passion, today!"
"It's all terribly fun and is in the first section of your written exam in seven months. If anyone needs help with the spell, just ask!"
Sirius leaned his head on his hand, not offering any enthusiasm back to the professor. In his left hand, he held the quill and was slowly writing down the steps to his shared potion. It was for the fifth period written analysis. With any luck from a potential literary God, they could finish early.
"Four lacewing flies, two crushed salamander gills and..." James stumbled. "I think it was a gram of aconite... maybe – " mixing the potion quickly, he eyed it and shared a look with his friend "– I don't remember."
"Oh, good. When the final exam comes, what are you going to do if you forget?"
"Don't you mean, what will we do?"
"Right. If you fail your exams, then so do I."
"'Course, man. This friendship doesn't come with an expiry date."
"Yeah, yeah. Did you put everything in, in order? I mean it – well, it looks like it's not a liquid anymore."
James' was red from the fumes. He dipped the end of his wand into the cauldron and scooped out a long, black squiggle of sludge. "Maybe it's meant to be chewed," he offered.
Grinning, Sirius looked over at their cauldron and nearly suffocated on the abhorrent stench emerging from their potion of passion.
"I'm feeling the passion," he said through his cloak sleeve. "That could bring something back from the dead."
Slughorn, who had began his turn about the classroom, overheard the boys. He shook his head at them and put his hand behind his back, peering at their potion.
"Need help, boys?" he asked.
James looked up. "Oh, no. We've got this under control."
"It appears you've added too much lacewing. From the texture and smell, I'd say counter-clockwise twice. You stir it any faster clockwise and it'll end up splattering the classroom!"
James grinned at the idea. "Well, then, I'll make sure that doesn't happen."
"Good, good! Are you sure you don't want to restart the potion? Hiccups like this in psychological-based concoctions mean it ends up rather pitiful. And with all this extra revision you're getting Sirius, you should be accustomed to Isabelle Williams' company, no? I could just get–"
"No, no, Sir." Sirius said quickly, glancing at the Gryffindor girls. "Honestly, we'll sort it. I'm learning a lot, so we'll be fine."
Slughorn eyed him questionably. He'd obviously figured out long ago that Sirius was completely useless at the subject. Looking between the two boys for a moment longer, his face broke into a relieved smile.
"Well, if you say you've got it! Who am I, to question the judgement of a Black and Potter?" He moved on hurriedly and started a deep conversation with Severus Snape about the state of his crushed prunes.
James looked at Isabelle. All the joking about her being a bint-bitch last week couldn't possibly be true? Maybe it was all just directed at Sirius. "You can't run from her all day. You've got revision, later," he said."
Sirius groaned loudly. "I forgot about that. Haven't done the essay or read over any work. Pretty sure she's predicted my T at the end of the year."
"You won't get a Troll. What is it really like spending time with her?"
"Complete nightmare. Don't ask. It'll put me in a bad mood for Quidditch."
"Jeez. I mean, do you think her personality is like Lily's, then? They're best mates. Aren't they similiar? I've never really got how it all works."
"No clue. I'm sort of reaching the point where I'm thinking girls are just another species to me."
"Thought you reached that point back in first year."
"Well, then I reached third year and found I needed girls for a few things. Can't ignore them forever."
James looked over to Lily Evans and frowned. He suddenly craved a cigerette. "Yeah, can't ignore them forever," he said.
"I have a question, Professor?" Isabelle Williams quipped at her table. Sirius watched and then shared a look with his friend. The potion in front of them suddenly began to smoke with a foul odour.
"I have a question, too." James looked at him expectantly with a large grin already posed on his face:
"Why are we so shite?"
The pair began to howl with laughter.
Isabelle pushed the front curls back and put half her hair into a messy bun, relieving her hot face and sweaty neck. Slughorn had told her, her potion wasn't nearly heated enough, on the fire.
"Oh, Merlin, this humidity isn't good," she huffed, flickering the rest over her shoulders. Lily grinned, looking at the frizzy knots beginning to form on Isabelle's head. "But, your potion shall be," she said.
They pair set off into their work, flicking through the Book of Shadows with ease and finding it peculiar that they would have to learn incantations as well as potions - it all felt extraordinarily muggle to them. Each Wiccan spell reminded Isabelle and Lily of the movie they'd watched when they were seven. It had been a Rankin-Bass movie production where the witches used to chant ridiculous spells over a cauldron that spewed green.
Looking back at the representation of magic in the muggle world, it seemed quite laughable.
The other humourous moment the friends shared in their lesson was how several Hufflepuffs couldn't stop swooning after they inhaled their potion mid-brew without a protective mask.
"Isn't this technically a love potion?" Williams enquired.
"I s'pose. Not that I'd ever use one, I think they're quite foul, don't you?"
"Do you remember when Marlene gave that seventh year one back in third year and he followed her round for four days?"
They began to giggle, their cheeks turning pink with secondhand embarrassment.
"Godric! That was so awful. His hand had started to blister because he used to snog it so often, pretending it was her!"
Isabelle put a hand over her eyes. "Oh, I feel so bad for laughing."
"I don't," Lily said, fanning her warm face. "She shouldn't have done it."
It took a moment, but Isabelle saw Lily's point quickly. Her white teeth flashed in the wide smile, a loud laugh coming from the pair of them. Lily caught the eye of Severus, watching them, and her grin faded momentarily.
Isabelle glinted in his direction. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine."
"Talking again?"
Lily shrugged, feeling tired suddenly. Their relationship had been the rockiest part of staring Sixth Year. "For now," she said.
At six o'clock that evening, the Quidditch Pitch was deserted; stands and all, except for the team of seven on one side.
Red and gold splattered their image. The team, despite all being exceptionally tall this year, looked tiny in comparison to the field. Remus looked at them all as he pushed his leather gloves on.
An ache ripped through his fingers from the nails.
"How we feeling, kids?" He asked loudly. A murmur of excited enthusiasm rippled in return.
Dragging the crate of Quidditch gear in front of the players, Sirius and James smiled broadly.
"Chip and chipper, ready to get on some rods, sir!" They laughed. The crate dropped into a puddle of mud, splashing their boots.
"Looks like you're all doused up, now, boys." Remus snorted. The others sniggered. "Right," Lupin said, "the first training session of the year, lads. And uh..."
Amelia Johnson snorted at him and waved off his stutter, uncaring and wanting to get going already. "Lads is fine," she said. "I'm not bothered."
Remus grinned, thankful to not be dealing with the simple nonsense of name calling. "Okay, then lads, the first session of the year and number one out of the thirteen until our first match. Thirteen isn't enough. After Halloween it'll go up to two, and then three times a week."
There was a collective muted groan that took the form of awkward shuffling. Amelia thought quickly about her revision timetable as well as which Hogsmeade trips she'd be missing. She compressed it quickly, acknowledging that her captain had spent all summer creating a plan and it was wrong to get petty.
"Yeah, I get it," Lupin wavered. "It's gonna be hard and tough. Trust me. We're gonna train harder and longer than last year; we're gonna win this time."
"Are we training weekends?"
Remus looked at Paxton and clenched his teeth together. "Mornings, evenings, and midnight to prepare for low vision - I've already asked Dumbledore for permission to do Sundays."
"Midnight, as well?"
Sirius rolled his eyes and shot the team a glare. "We're gonna train when we need to, we don't need any pussy-boys here. If you have a problem, then I'll have your broom and flog it in Hogsmeade. So, is there a problem?" The team shuffled awkwardly and grasped their brooms tighter.
"Hell no, Black," Alois said fiercely. "Just checkin' we're not slacking this year."
Remus, cunningly quiet as he observed his team, couldn't stop the tilt of his lips into a smirk. "Did you think we slacked last year, Alois?"
Alois met his gaze. "'Course not, Lupin. Everyone seems to be stepping their game up now, just thought we would be, too."
Something surged in the Gryffindors. Today was a day to make their final mistakes, to crash and fall off their brooms, or test their boundaries. They wanted to leave injured because it meant they'd come away with proof of their bravery.
A storm began overhead and the Pitch remained deserted, because no one in their right mind would willingly go outside in that weather. Except Quidditch players.
Remus bent down and unlocked the crate, taking in the rattling image of the blunger. With an over-arm throw, it went soaring and was followed by the kludgers and golden snitch.
James itched to start, sharing a grin with his two friends before swinging a leg over his broom.
"Let's queue the training montage," he said.
"Start flying," Remus instructed. "Keep going until I tell you to stop."
Apparently, not one of them intended to come away sodden and clean of mud by the time dinner came.
Bundling up her books, Isabelle Williams set off from her dormitory to the Library. It was nearing the time to meet Sirius, but she had a habit of going early.
On her way out of the room, she nearly collided with the quivering form of Millicent Gygars, staring at the portrait of Ser Jaime, again.
"Millie, let's leave the knight alone. Shall we go and sit by the fire?"
"Oh, no. No, no, he's left me."
"Come on, Mils."
Millicent dabbed her cheek, her eyes as large as saucers. Williams peered at the painting. In the middle of the portrait was a golden crown, one that belonged to a maiden portrait from the seventh floor. "We say a kiss on the hand might feel very good, but a diamond tiara last forever." Millicent said.
Isabelle suddenly felt guilty for being pushy. Millicent's temperament was precious and delicate, she should've known better than to treat her so forcefully.
"Come on, Lorelei," Isabelle said softly, placing her free hand to her back.
It took a slight push for Millicent to leave the space at the top of the stairs. She went into a haze, not seeing the second years who had been poking fun at her the entire time.
Isabelle put her middle finger up at them when they attempted to follow and they retreated back up the steps.
Once settled in a chair by the fire, Isabelle hurriedly ransacked the bookcase in the common room for magazines she'd stashed away for times like this. Her eyes found one and she ushered it into Millient's hands, aiding her friend with coming back to the world of reality.
Lily Evans appeared through the portrait door. Her eyes found her friends.
"What's wrong?" she asked, putting her books down and crouching at Gygars' feet. "Do you think we'll have to take her to Pomfrey, again?"
"No, no. She's not too far gone, this time anyway. It was just a scare with the knight upstairs, she gets attached too easily."
"Hey, Millie? Millie, look at what we got for you. It's Marilyn in your favourite interview. Look here she is talking about your favourite colour..."
Marlene McKinnon came through the portrait ay that moment, followed by a group of third years. She had been escorting them to and from Divination as part of a student welfare scheme McGonagall had posted on the board. This week, it was Marlene's job to help students in need.
"Now, you lot go and tell the Professor what a bloody angel I am and how I'm the sweetest flower in the whole garden," she cawed at them.
"Is that an owl?" One of them squinted at the window. "Isn't that the owl that crashed into the breakfast table last week?
McKinnon went slightly pale, but tried to remain unaffected. "Absolutely not," she said with a distinct chill in her voice. The Gryffindors looked back to the object and quickly realised the bird wasn't stopping.
Follet flew through the open window and crashed into the wall beside the stairs for the dormitories. He landed in a heap and let out a defeated hoot.
"Fuck's sake," Marlene growled, glaring at the letter in Follet's crumpled foot which had her name in large letters. The third years stared at it with wide eyes. "Well then?" Marlene cawed at them. "Sort him out! I don't show you round for fun!"
Snorting, Isabelle looked back to Millicent and gave her a warm smile. She was contently reading Which Witch? and had ceased crying. As usual, the page was open on an article of her favourite movie star.
"Will you be alright whilst I go to revision?"
Millicent's eyes had glazed over with the familiar content that meant anything else in the world didn't particularly matter anymore. She looked up at Isabelle and her lips turned up into a childlike smile.
"Why, of course, Belle," she said wistfully. "You take your time and do not worry for me."
Millie placed a hand over Isabelle and squeezed it, before retreating it back to the page on which Marilyn Monroe was smiling up at her.
Sometimes it was difficult to relate to Millicent, everyone knew that. But what many forgot was that it was misunderstanding mistaken for understanding when it came to her character. She changed often; fell into different personas frequently, but would always go back to being wistful, childlike and Gryffindor.
That was what occupied Isabelle for most of her journey through the corridors.
The walk from the Tower didn't take long. Unlike last weekend, a lot of the students were still out of bed and running around. Most of the ghosts were out, in deep conversation with one another and the teachers; who were lighting fireplaces and warming the air.
Filch was by the great clock-pendulum, a mop in hand as he scrubbed aggressively at the mud all over the floor. He was muttering to himself as Mrs Norris watched.
Taking several lefts, Isabelle arrived at her destination and pushed her back against the door. She settled in her usual spot and spread a couple of fiction books out.
Sirius would be late and that was something I'd have to get used to, she thought just as the oak door creaked open.
Looking up from her book, her surprise quickly burned out.
Sirius waltzed into the library with a smug grin on his face. He pushed a hand through his soaking curls and shook his head like a dog, sending Madam Pince's retreating form a wink.
She would've slapped him if she'd been looking.
He reached Isabelle and stood at the foot of the table, waiting for her to lose it. She looked him up and down with a stone-cold expression, fighting to remain unaffected by his appearance.
If he dared to think she would give into his stupidity...
Not - bloody - likely.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" She asked, hautily placing her book down.
Dropping his sodden broom to the floor, he grinned broadly. "Oh right," he said. Isabelle's eyes looked down at his sports gear and then to his hand as it reached into his muddy robes and took out a long quill. Unlike everything else on him, it was clean.
"Almost did!" He said happily. "Phew, that was a close one."
Sirius flopped down into the chair and folded his arms over his chest, eyes meeting her hateful ones. She gritted her teeth.
"Anything else?"
"Oh, yes. Let's move this tat," he exhaled, faking impatience. Sirius took ahold of a bundle of her reading books with his filthy hands and shoved them aside to Isabelle's disraught.
"What are you doing? Careful with those!"
Sirius blinked. "I am being careful."
"No. You shoved them away."
"Well, I was as careful as possible. Which to your standard may not be very careful, because you can be quite uptight about these little things, but I'm willing to move on with the little things and start afresh?"
Isabelle could think of a few little things she'd happily set on fire.
"Did you do your essay?" she asked coldly, rummaging through her bag. His silence nearly made her eyes roll into the back of her head.
"You left your notebook last week. Here it is. If you leave it, you lose it as well as your grade – which, it might surprise you, but I don't actually care about that."
Sirius tilted his head, watching her pull out parchment and her OWL notes.
"You're lying," he said. "You do care about my care grade."
"No, I don't. I care about my job at the Ministry."
"But Slughorn told me that I need an Outstanding or they won't accept you at all. I think I deserve a bit more respect now." Isabelle looked up from her school equipment. "Did that worry you?" he smiled, "oh, yes, Williams, your future relies on me."
They shared a look. Isabelle's mind flashed towards the end of year exams as she waited for him to finish assessing his hold over her.
"So, on a scale of one to ten-" Sirius leaned forward, wetting the parchment with rain drops from his hair, "-how fucked are you?"
"Don't you dare threaten me. I'll find other ways of getting my job, this is just a hiccup. You're just a bump in this long and dark road Slughorn's sent me down."
"Looks like it's gonna be a long and dark night, if anything. Might as well get started instead of bickering. I know how you can unhinge your mouth like a snake and talk for hours."
Fuming, Isabelle nearly crushed all of her teeth together, clenching her jaw.
"Page seven," she hissed. "Write fast."
Sirius watched her point to the book with her finger acting like a hot poker and she offered few kind words.
As such, the following three hours were long and tedious. The silence led to Isabelle fighting to hide her worry. Sirius had forced her to waver from a path of normality and she couldn't comprehend the idea of not being in control.
All she ever need to succeed was herself and now a thick-headed bint had tore it all apart.
Completely forgetting about the essays and homework, she carried onto the next section of the module and planned out several physical potions lessons as he jotted down notes and read them aloud (that was always how she remembered things). Every so often, his disgusting robes would brush over his paper and scuff the writings with wet mud.
Isabelle wrinkled her nose at the smell of rain water, dirt and sweat that came with the papers Sirius had written out. He handed them over to be put into a folder and to be marked by her.
She decided against bothering to do the latter.
"Later, Williams," Sirius said. He hoisted his Quidditch bag over his shoulder and tucked his quill back into his robes, before strolling back out of the Library.
Isabelle waited until she was alone until she leaned over and retrieved her books from the chair, to which, Sirius had dumped them. Holding them in her hands was difficult they were all thick and expensive - hardback and leather-bound versions she'd saved for.
The first on the pile was The Picture of Dorian Gray. But the first thing she noticed was different, was the grit beneath her fingers. Mud caked the side of each book and several finger-prints.
Her heart swelled with pain and self-pity. "Tergeo," she chanted, presenting herself with clean books.
Despite it's cleanliness, her mood had slipped into a severe battle of hatred and reclusion. Chewing her bottom lip, she hurriedly shoved everything into her bag and to which her mood followed her to sleep and soon disappeared to welcome dreams.
References:
- Sunlight: I read a poem by Hafiz and I love imagery around the weather, so I wanted to link it to Sirius. The poem is:
"Even after
All this time
The Sun never says to the Earth,
"You owe me."
Look
What happens
With a love like that,
It lights the whole sky."
- Wicca is a modern form of paganism and it is quite popular so when I mention it, I mention with complete respect and admiration for it - the folklore of Wicca is extremely interesting to me and if I've offended anyone I apologise wholeheartedly and will change it.
- The Rankin-Bass movie Isabelle remembers watching is one called Mad Monster Party which was on in 1966 around Halloween, I watched it when I was quite young as well so there!
- Millicent's "We say a kiss on the hand..." ".." are from the movie 'Gentlemen Prefer Blondes', it's just a bit of development on Millie's interests and her character.
Comment: I saw this on a Game of Thrones fanfiction a few years ago, but the author has since deleted the story so I couldn't find the author to thank:( here you go:
Isabelle's Ambience:
Priscilla Ahn - Dream
Kanye west - Frank's track
Madilyn Bailey - She Wolf
Jake Isaac - Waiting Here
Benjamin Francis Leftwich - Atlas Hands
