Witterings of One Not Related to Uncle Geoffrey Chapter 2: Essays, Beetles, and Unfortunate Exposures, a harry potter fanfic

Witterings of One Definitely Not Related to Uncle Geoffrey

Chapter Two: Essays, Beetles, and Unfortunate Exposures

Thursday, September 4th, 1994

8:30 a.m.

First week of school going wonderfully so far. Have not missed breakfast, fallen asleep in class, or said what I thought of Pansy Parkinson. Have all homework done, especially nice Divination homework, which I have elaborated on with little pretty illustrations, although have indeed studiously ignored another Potions assignment which I got yesterday and isn't due till next week. (Had much other homework that had to be finished first.) Transfiguration is next, and I am going to be happily handing in my perfect and completed essay which I have made sure is in my bag, thereby turning over a new leaf at the same time. Helped Parvati on hers, too, and look forward to becoming known as brilliant and generous schoolmate.

9:20 a.m.

Oh, God. McGonagall is glaring at me. What, what, what have I done now?

9:25 a.m.

"Miss Brown, may I please speak to you after class?"

…Help, help, help, help! Poised self is rapidly starting to sink into floor. What could I possibly have done now? I was on time, I had my homework, I took notes during class…

Maybe she wants to kill me, so that she does not have to put up with another Hermione Granger.

Satisfying thought, somewhat, but not really, as this means I am doomed.

10:40 a.m.

…Urgh. I am going to kill myself and then torture myself until I am dead. Why, Lavender, why, why, why?

Professor McGonagall shooed everyone else out of classroom, then beckoned for me with one threatening finger. Was v. seriously considering Obliviating myself, but abstained, as it might just go wrong and however much I admired Professor Lockhart, I do not admire his current mental state of zilch.

"Miss Brown, would you care to explain this?"

She was holding out my essay, and pointing to the top of the roll of parchment. Grinning idiotically (with fear) I nodded, and then froze. Directly next to her finger were the words: "Professor McBigStickUpHerBum".

Oh, God.

This is exactly why I made Rule Three, List One. This is exactly why I made that rule.

"Er," I said intelligently, trying to stall for time.

"Yes?" Professor McGonagall inquired. I peeked towards the door and saw Parvati standing there, out of sight of McGonagall but clearly hopping up and down on toes in v. worried fashion. Love best friends.

"It was, er, motivation," I finally managed.

"Motivation?" Professor McGonagall demanded, looking absolutely livid.

"Um," I squeaked. "Yes, well, I was trying to do my essay ahead of time, and…er, well, this sort of helped me not to stop in the middle. I did mean to tear it off before I got to class, but I think I forgot."

"You most certainly did forget," the red-with-suppressed-rage teacher humphed. "Next time, be more careful, Miss Brown."

And she pointed to the door. Too shocked to comprehend that I had gotten off without a detention, I scuttled out, promptly ran into Parvati, and was halfway to Defense Against the Dark Arts before she caught up with me.

"Lavender! What happened?"

"I was very stupid," I admitted miserably. "I didn't tear off my motivation from the top of my essay."

"What motivation?" she asked, confused. "Wait, you didn't forget to—"

"I did," I mumbled, even more miserably. Parvati had read my essay beforehand and had giggled a bit at the offending phrase, meaning that I thankfully did not have to repeat it.

"Oh, Merlin, Lavender," she sighed, and I chose to ignore that her expression looked very much like forced-back laughter smeared onto a face.

"He has not been helping me very much," I said grumpily, in the perfect mood to kick Merlin directly in the buttocks, and then I shut up as I was walking into Defense Against The Dark Arts.

12:00 p.m.

I can't please any of my teachers, can I?

Ooh, someday I am just going to explode. Either I'm in trouble for not doing my homework or I'm in trouble for doing my homework and showing it off to Parvati under the bloody desk right under the bloody nose of the bloody teacher with the bloody all-seeing Eye. Hate Professor Moody.

"You need to put that away, Miss Brown, while I'm talking."

…urgh.

But the lesson went okay. We were shown horrendous torture, amusing antics, and swift death of three different spiders, and I hope that if I am ever re-incarnated as a stray animal Professor Moody is not put in charge of my shelter, because then I would cry.

But now. Lunch. Lunch, lunch, munchy munchy munch.

12:30 p.m.

Well, not so much lunch as all-around-gorging fest, but I shall continue to call it lunch. V. good today; kidneys, mashed potatoes, salad, leek-and-onion soup, some pasta-y thing with red peppers and tomato cream sauce, chocolate cake with what appears to be green sprinkles on top (in celebration of the end of summer? Do not understand house-elves) and small bowls of walnuts for some obscure reason.

Oh, dear, no; those aren't green sprinkles; that is parsley.

What is parsley doing on my cake?

5:00 p.m.

Rest of day went v. well. Plan to improve self by becoming better person is working wonderfully. Have, however, broken no-dieting rule this evening as was so traumatized by unfortunate event of parsley snippets on icing of chocolate cake that began to fancy parsley cooked into cake and other various items of ingestion. Images began to revolve in head, such as nasty overcooked brown parsley getting stuck in teeth and dangling down to chin and getting brownish-green goop everywhere, and result was that Lavender Brown stayed away from the Great Hall entirely during the evening and holed self up in dormitory, taking refuge in candy that has been transferred to Parvati's trunk.

Homework:

Potions: read pages 18-27, write essays on two of three questions at end of chapter, 1500 words each (blaaaaargh, can wait till weekend)

Divination: dream diary (work in progress; not dreaming anything much as of yet)

Care of Magical Creatures: none (done)

Transfiguration: find topic for mid-term project, also read chapter 3 and summarize (have chapter 3 read; must go ahead and summarize, also visit library)

Charms: read chapter 2, take notes (done)

History of Magic: none (done)

…I enjoy writing the word DONE behind homework. It gives me this lovely feeling of accomplishment and greatness and just plain un-Lavender-ness, if you really want to know. (Un-Lavender-ness is usually a good thing, despite the fact that it is not a generally accepted word, term, or concept)

Daily Quotas:

Sweets 12 (not bad considering lack of dinner), essays completed 0, other homework done 4 (Charms and Transfiguration; am counting "read chapter" as separate bit of homework), mental rants about Hermione 1 (but an ongoing rant, so not v. good), butterbeers downed 0 (still no chance to acquire, but v. good), disturbing thoughts 21 (what on earth was parsley doing on my cake, anyhow?), snarky comments avoided (far too many, what with Professor Moody and the parsley incident)

Friday, September 5th, 1994

7:30 a.m.

Wonderful start to day. Woke up at six fifty-five to roommate's snoring (not sure which one, as it stopped just as I woke up), and slithered out of bed and into first-year girls' bathroom for shower. Do not know why little first-year girls stared at me as I stepped out of shower, snickered, and then scuttled out, as I have not told anyone about the fearsome Cold Shower Fiasco, but apparently this is just another consequence of living at Hogwarts, where deep and dire secrets are the first to be known to all.

7:45 a.m.

…What has happened to my hair?

I think I'm going to cry.

8:45 a.m.

I did cry. I howled, in most undignified manner, for best friend, who skidded over to my bed, pulled the blankets away from my head, and tried v. hard not to burst out laughing. She will be an expert in the latter skill by the end of this year, I imagine. Hmph.

"Merlin, Lavender, what on earth did you do?"

"Nothing," I wailed, staring at the large black beetles entangled in still wet hair. "I didn't do anything. I went downstairs and showered, that's what I bloody did." This, apparently, is why the little brats were sniggering at me. OhGodohGodohGodohGod. Get them away from me! I do not like beetles, I don't, I don't, I don't. I want them to DIE. They are icky, crunchy, eewy—"Parvati!"

"What?" she asked, obviously trying not to vomit as she tried to untangle one of said beetles from hair.

"Help," I whined, quite ready to bawl.

"Oh, dear," Hermione Granger said, blinking her eyes rather rapidly. She has been scuttling off to the library every morning to research house-elves for her new obsession, whatever it is, and came back to fetch her schoolbag. "Lavender, what happened?"

"I don't know," I mumbled, sobbing rather heartily by now. "I washed my hair and walked back in here, and, and, and..."

"It looks nasty," she said, testily lifting up one of the knots of hair and jumping back quickly as she discovered that the blasted beetle was actually alive and wriggling.

"Euurgh!" Parvati shrieked, jumping back herself and covering a much larger distance, meaning that she leapt behind her own bed and knocked over one of her water-glasses. The batty girl thinks that everyone's system is improved by drinking lots of water, and she leaves the bloody glasses all over our dormitory as a result of it, often causing many accidents.

"I am going to DIE," I yelped. "Get them off me, off, off, off!"

"I've got some bug spray," Parvati suggested. "We could—"

"You are not bug-spraying my hair! Doesn't anyone know any counter-spells for this or something?"

Both of us immediately looked at Hermione.

"I could try Banishing them," she suggested. "But I've only read about Banishing Spells; we've never actually done them in class—"

"Do it!" I begged, and would have gone down on knees had that not meant that I would have had to move my head, meaning my hair, and thereby bringing the beetles into closer contact with my skin. "Please, Hermione, please, please, please!"

The result of all of this is that Hermione Granger is not as brilliant as I thought she was. She Banished the beetles from my hair so quickly that parts of my hair got singed, and the only way for me to hide this is by, a, wearing my hair tucked under my pointy hat all day long, which does not work in a classroom because other people actually have to see over your head, or, b, enlisting Angelina Johnson's help and dividing my hair into ten little cornrow braids, which we ended up doing. I love girls.

Oh, not in that way, you idiot.

However, Parvati proved her loyalty to best friend by throwing on some clothes, brushing her irritatingly non-singed hair, and rushing down to the Great Hall and returning before class with a bundle of bacon and blackberry-marmalade-on-buttered-toast to share. Love best friends. Napkin was unfortunately ruined, but Parvati argued that we pay astonishingly high prices for tuition anyhow, so Hogwarts owes us at least one napkin. I do love it when she's right (and I'm not wrong).

Also, right now, I happen to adore Hermione with every fiber of my being, though not as much as Angelina. Both of them are, however, my current heroines. I planned to make "Eternally Grateful Minion of Angelina Johnson" and "Fervent Slave of Hermione Granger" badges, but then Parvati pointed out to me that this would not help the lesbian rumors, and unfortunately she is, again, quite right. Grr.

Will have to make it up to my excellent benefactors some other way, then.

5:42 p.m.

…What about sashes? I could make sashes.

5:43 p.m.

Communicated sash plan to Parvati.

5:45 p.m.

…Must think of other plan.

Homework:

Potions: none (ha, done!)

Divination: dream diary which is work in progress

Care of Magical Creatures: None. Who is surprised, honestly?

Transfiguration: Largeish project. Must visit library over weekend to find subject.

Charms: none (done)

History of Magic: Read and summarize chapters 2 and 3; write 2 rolls of parchment on the Worchester Battle of 1455 and the influence of Burbleish the Seriously Disturbed, or whatever his name was. Ask Parvati; kill Professor Binns so that he really dies.

Daily Quotas:

Sweets 3 (had to have something sustaining to make up for beetle trauma), essays completed 0, other homework done 0 (all finished!, v. good!), mental rants about Hermione 1 (but rant in which wondering why she is so tragically under-appreciated at this school), butterbeers downed 0 (the usual reason, unfortunately), disturbing thoughts 55 bazillion (beetles, beetles, beetles!), snarky comments avoided 1 (v.g.; to Parvati, no less)

Saturday, September 6th, 1994

9:00 a.m.

Love weekends. Great Hall open till nine-thirty for breakfast and I can flop downstairs in pajamas.

9:05 a.m.

Blasted list. Okay, fine, fine; make self attractive…where is my black skirt? Black skirt…black skirt...

9:07 a.m.

Have found black pumps, but not, alas, black skirt. Must be here somewhere, though.

9:10 a.m.

Ooh, found light blue blouse I thought was lost over the summer. Lovely. Now, where is my blasted black skirt?

9:20 a.m.

"Parvati, have you seen my black skirt?"

She frowned a bit. "You wore it Tuesday, didn't you?"

"Yeees," I admitted. "So?"

"I think you spilled pumpkin juice on it at dinner. Want to wear mine?"

Almost threw myself at her in ecstasy, but controlled self before any little first-years poked their noses in the door and spied anything of questionable intentions. "I lurrve you," I swaggered, catching the skirt she threw at me and realizing that I had been wandering about the dormitory and searching through my wardrobe, trunk, cavern underneath bed, and laundry bin while wearing nothing but bright blue knickers and a light blue blouse and while parading bum to half-open door. Felt v. ridiculous and was v., v. glad that none of the boys can come up our staircase.

"Hullo, all," a voice called from the doorway, and I immediately dropped my skirt in terror. "Anyone know where Ginny's room is?"

…Then, on turning to me: "Nice show, Lavender."

Am seriously going to die. Or kill them, preferably. Hate Weasley twins, hate them hate them hate them! Want to know how to perform homicidal curses NOW, Professor Moody!

"Seventh door on the right," Parvati told him, sounding v. scandalized on my behalf. "Get out! You're not supposed to be here, you perverts!"

"The Hogwarts founders didn't allow for broomsticks," Misters High and Mighty proclaimed, holding up their own. "Flew up the staircase. Not their fault, though; Quidditch wasn't played back then. Anyway, thanks."

"Yeah," Fred shot back. "But anytime you want to visit, Lavender, we're the room on the right, just past the fifth set of torches."

"You!" I squealed. "Get out!"

"We're only joking, honestly!" they protested, somewhat startled as I began flinging whatever I could at them, i.e. my black pumps and the black skirt, as being the only things within range. "Lord, Lavender—ow! Hey! Stoppit! We're—"

"Don't you hex my black skirt!" Parvati yelled, rather too late, as it sank to the floor in a pile of cinders. "Nooooo!"

Fred and George took this moment to scamper off, and I took this moment to hide under my bed.

9:40 a.m.

…Have definitely missed breakfast by now. Bugger. Dare not come out from under bed, though. Parvati is still vaguely sifting through the cinders of what once was a really nice little black skirt from her grandmother, and I…

…I have dust bunnies on my blouse.

Lovely.

10:02 a.m.

Still under bed.

…Wonder if should use this time to perfect drawing skills?

12:37 p.m.

Cannot draw.

Also, hate the underside of my bed.

Resolution Number Eleven, List Two: Stash books and non-perishable food of some sort other than candy under bed, in case of this ever happening again.

Alternately, I could just not scamper under the bed.

Or I could face the music, meaning the wailing screams.

2:43 p.m.

Maybe I'm exaggerating. After all, Parvati surely isn't shallow enough to want to give up her best friend in memory of a poor skirt that her best friend did not even kill, technically.

2:45 p.m.

Yes. Parvati is a kind and sensible and mature being. Also, I should have mastered the Shield Charm by now.

2:47 p.m.

Deep breaths. Now. Emerge.

2:48 p.m.

Oh, God, am frightful coward.

Also, have missed lunch.

2:50 p.m.

And study time.

Though, right now, lunch is far more important.

2:55 p.m.

Number Twelve, List Two: GAIN COURAGE OF SOME SORT, EVEN IF IT IS COURAGE OF MOUSE. COURAGE OF LAVENDER IS COURAGE OF WORST QUALITY AVAILABLE AND SHOULD BE SACKED IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING PURCHASE OF NEW COURAGE. EXTRAS NOT INCLUDED.

…PURCHASE NOT NECESSARY. VOID WHERE PROHIBITED.

3:16 p.m.

I am a sad, sad being.

3:18 p.m.

Naps: two. Pages filled with scribbles: two, because Parvati has not left the room and am afeard to turn pages. Noise, and all that.

3:43 p.m.

Oh, good, she's left! Ha! Eased self slowly out from underneath bed, celebrated ability to put pants on (no black skirt, alas), brushed hair and pulled it up into bun, picked up schoolbag and skedaddled for library.

5:30 p.m.

Have found good book for Transfiguration project that could include many different topics (Ancient Magical Methods of Cartography, Including the Biography of Four-And-Twenty Best-Known Magical Cartographers And Explorers), and considering dinner. After all, Parvati would not dare to kill me in front of the school. There are teachers watching, you know, as well as a host of students. Witnesses.

Right, dinner. Food!

6:15 p.m.

Odd. Parvati was not at dinner. Wonder where she was.

9:21 p.m.

Not that it matters. I'm not dead yet, anyway. Think will go to bed early, so as to avoid her when she comes back.

Homework:

Same as Friday but did Transfiguration

Daily Quotas:

Sweets 0 (paper around sweets is crinkly and noisy; v. bad!) , essays completed 0, other homework done 1, mental rants about Hermione 0, butterbeers downed 0 (reasons obvious by now), disturbing thoughts 0, disturbing occurrences 1, almost-naked searching dances 1 (not v. good), snarky comments avoided 0 (but not because was holding self back; was because could not say everything at once and as a result tripped over words and just shut up. All of this directed to Weasley twins, of course.)

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