Chapter 12

I am a very, very, bad girl.

It is two in the morning and I am in the Hogwarts kitchen stuffing my face with delicious, chocolate-covered cake. The cake is practically bursting with icing that has been dyed blue by some very kind house-elves. I am surrounded by cakes and very teeny elves who keep asking me very dangerous questions, such as, "Would you like some more cake, Miss Lily?" And they keep asking, so I have no choice but to accept, now, do I?

I am envisioning Clarissa's face if she ever saw me doing this.

I must remember never to tell her.

Now there are several reasons why I am in this horrible predicament which I shall gladly list for you.

1. My boyfriend hasn't talked to me since….The Incident.

2. I have not eaten due to Clarissa's tyranny.

3. Because of Clarissa's twisted diet, I had no energy and completely made a fool of myself in Charms.

4. My owl died.

Yes, I have to admit that the last incident on the list was the most traumatic. My poor owl, who I have had since I was a wee one in first year, is, alas, dead.

But there is something even worse then my owl dying; it was how my owl died. For my owl died at the infamously evil hands of the one and only James Prick Potter.

Now I want to be fair, so I cannot give Prick Potter all the blame. But some fault definitely lies with him.

You see, Pernicious Prick Potter happens to have a horribly horrid cat named—are you ready for this, it's just so original—Cat.

Yes, I know. A cat named Cat. However does he think of these things?

I am quite pleased to tell you that my owl had a much more original name; Princess Humphrey.

Princess Humphrey was a very good owl and most of the time she managed to deliver the mail to somewhere around the address I'd assigned her. She was a very pretty black owl and I took great joy in sneaking her into the dorm and letting her poop on Clarissa's bed.

I loved Princess Humphrey but she was slain by Pestilent Pernicious Prick Potter's evil cat named Cat. Which I am quite depressed about.

It was a horrid, drawn out affair that happened in front of the entire Great Hall. I will now state the horrible facts that have led to this sad event:

It was a dark and stormy night—well morning actually, but who cares anyway, it was probably night time in China—when the Pestilent Pernicious Prick Potter came down to breakfast, holding his ugly, furry, white and fluffy cat named Cat.

He walked into the great hall, holding the fluffy, un-masculine beast, and plopped his ugly arse down next to me.

"Why good morning, Evans!" he exclaimed, putting his horridly hairy beast on my lap and grabbing some toast.

"Get this thing off me, Potter!" I growled.

"No, I don't think I will; he likes it there. His name isn't 'Thing' by the way, it's Cat."

Must I mention again the complete unoriginality of this name?

So I proceeded to try to shove the cat off me. Now, this should've been an easy task—even though the Cat is very fat—but the Thing named Cat dug its horrible hairy claws into my leg and if I dared to even push it the slightest bit, it attempted to rip my legs off. (Which I have full confidence it is completely capable off doing, as demonstrated by the upcoming decapitation of my owl)

This is the horribly sad part of my story that, if made into a movie, would have a full theatre practically drowning in tears; it's that sad, I assure you.

Princess Humphrey swooped down from the sky, happy and carefree. I could see she carried a letter from my parents and I could practically sense the happiness radiating from her as she swooped down. To her, life was good.

As she joyfully, innocently, and trustingly came down to responsively deliver her letter…. It Happened.

The horribly horrid cat named Cat tore its claws away from my skin and jumped into the air, ripping my happy owl away from her true home. Cat grabbed her by her neck and yanked her down to the ground; ripping and tearing at her, the poor little thing, until Princess Humphrey was a sad little hump on top of the breakfast potatoes.

I was—being the true Gryffindor that I am—attempting to help the poor little thing. I do believe that my hysterical screaming and sobs of horror were quite helpful at this time.

Prick Potter was yelling at Cat and trying to grab him off the mangled body of Princess Humphrey. Everyone in the hall was staring by now at the poor dead owl and me hysterically crying and Prick Potter trying to pull his cat away.

It made quite a scene, I tell you.

Guinevere came over and put an arm around my shoulders; we both observed the cat. She was solemn and I was completely flipping out at the point. I was very attached to Princess Humphrey. Prick Potter was staring horrified at my owl. He seemed to be in complete shock, as if he couldn't believe that Perfect Precious Cat could ever commit first degree murder.

After I calmed down a bit I realized I should be using my energy for more destructive means.

"YOU KILLED PRINCESS HUMPHREY!" I screamed at the evil boy. He looked rather frightened actually and didn't seem to know what to say.

"I'm… I'm… I'm really— I didn't…. I wasn't try—"

"I DON'T CARE WHAT YOUR INTENTIONS WERE, YOU KILLED PRINCESS HUMPHREY!"

"Correction: Cat killed Princess Humphrey. Jamie here didn't do nothin'."

"YOU SHUT UP SIRIUS BLACK! AND USE PROPER GRAMMAR FOR HEAVENS SAKE!" I added at the end; I hate people who speak like bums.

"Lily, I'm really, really, really sorr—"

"I DON'T CARE YOU PRICK! YOU PESTILENT PERNICIOUS PRICK!" I don't know exactly what "pernicious" means, but it sounds really mean and it starts with a "p".

Potter looks at me helplessly and starts to reach out a hand.

"Lily…"

"NO!" And with that, screaming and sobbing, I exit the Great Hall with Guinevere in tow and three hundred people staring at me in shock. Devon was one of those people. Paired with our amazing conversation yesterday, I'm afraid to say that I don't believe Lily Evans will have a boyfriend much longer.

And that is the end of my sad, sad tale. Oh. Here I go. Sobbing all over again.

I think I'll go get more cake.