XXXI. HOUSE LIPSCHITZ
No one spoke or moved, struck dumb by the horrifying sight in front of us.
Mrs Norris, hanging dead by her tail in front of a chilling warning on the castle wall written in blood-like something out of an R.L. Stine novel.
It didn't feel real.
It was like something had suddenly come careening out of nowhere, sideswiped me, and spun the camera lens that I saw the world through the wrong way and, for several heartbeats, it was all thrown out of focus and distorted.
"Let's get out of here," Ron said finally, realising how bad it would be if anyone found us here, which snapped me out of it.
The camera lens readjusted and reality rushed back in again, leaving me feeling a bit numb and cold.
"-Shit," I let out, repeatedly snapping my rubber bands(and fighting the urge to run my fingers through my hair/glittery space buns-with my luck, I'd either end up looking like a total nutcase with my glittery hair sticking up at odd angles or my fingers would get stuck; Malfoy would never let me live it down if I had to go to see Pomfrey because I literally can't get my hand out of my hair-).
"Shouldn't we try and help-" Harry said awkwardly, earning a disbelieving look from me.
"Trust me," Ron told him, ironically taking on the voice of reason role usually left to Hermione-and me, in dire situations(any time I have to be the adult in the room, I classify as a "dire situation"-). "We don't want to be found here."
"If you want to explain that-" I gestured at the dead cat swingin' by its tail, "to Filch, be our guest, but I for one will not be sticking around. I mean, I'll probably circle back for entertainment purposes," I added, "but, otherwise, you're on your own."
"Yeah, let's go," my twin agreed quickly, seeing my point.
So, of course, we just had to hear the thunderous rumble of approaching footsteps on both sides of the corridor at that very second-the feast having clearly ended...and the happy voices of the entire student body heading right for us, boxing us in.
Before any of us had the chance to react, or do a runner/hide behind a plant, they crashed onto the scene; the noise abruptly dying at the sight of the four of us, the school caretaker's dead cat suspended from the torch bracket, and the bloody writing.
People pressed forward to get a better look at the grisly scene.
"Okay, starting to slightly regret the costume choice, now-" I mumbled under my breath to the others, sheepishly hiding my axe behind my back.
I glanced at Mrs Norris.
"-At least she still has her head," I added, trying to lighten the mood.
"Jules?" Ron said quietly.
"Mm-hmm?"
"Please don't take this the wrong way, but-shut up."
"Yep, that's fair-"
The silence in the corridor was deafening.
You know, right up until-
"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"
I flinched and jerked around to see Malfoy grinning at Mrs Norris's hanging body, grey eyes alive and face flushed, the psychopath.
"Wow, Malfoy-you've really got an impressive way with words-" I sarcastically praised, "and you're so sensitive, too-"
"And you have timing issues," he shot back, looking from Mrs Norris to me pointedly.
"I'd argue, but-" I dryly gestured my axe at the wall only to look at it, blink, and swiftly hide it behind my back again.
Malfoy let out a snort of disbelieving laughter.
"You would get caught in front of Filch's dead cat holding an axe-" he remarked with a smirk, finding obvious humour in the situation.
"Fake axe-"
On the other end of the spectrum, Harry and Ron were sharing a fatalistic look, and Hermione was silently begging me to stop engaging.
And, you know-dead cat.
"What's going on here? What's going on?"
Hearing Filch's voice, I panicked slightly, shoving my axe at Ron.
"I don't want it!" he hissed in alarm, shoving it back.
We hastily shoved it back and forth, pushing it in Harry's direction and having him join in, as the caretaker shouldered his way through the crowd.
Hermione was hiding her face in embarrassment and exasperation.
The axe landed back in my hands and, seeing Filch-
"Malfoy, catch!"
I threw my axe, and Malfoy almost dropped it in surprise.
He looked at it for a second, eyebrows high, before shrugging and hiding it behind his back.
"See? Malfoy's willing to make me look like less of a cat murderer!" I exclaimed in a hushed voice, pointing in his direction.
"Yeah, well, he isn't the one that'd have to deal with Fil-" catching sight of the smug blonde, Ron stopped short. "Hang on, did you paint Malfoy's face?"
Harry Ron and Hermione stared at Malfoy, dumbfounded.
The sight of the red diamond painted on his right eye(that I was pleasantly surprised to see he hadn't washed off before the feast)might've actually shocked them more than the sight of the dead cat dangling from Chucky's graffiti wall.
"We went trick or treating!" I said, brightening. "No one else would go with me-and I didn't have high expectations, but it was actually really fun-"
They moved their incredulous stares to me.
Filch finally breaking through to see Mrs Norris-and falling back with his hands clutching his horrified face-kinda killed the mood, I won't lie.
"My cat!" he shrieked, eyes popping. "My cat! What's happened to Mrs Norris?"
His gaze dropped, landing on Harry.
"You! You! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll-"
"Argus!"
Dumbledore's arrival, and the arrival of several other teachers-McGonagall and Professor Snape included, was the only thing that kept me from grabbing my axe off Malfoy and chasing the caretaker down with it.
As soon as he threatened to kill my twin, said startled twin found himself stumbling as he was yanked hard behind me.
One look at the deadly stare I was levelling on Filch had Harry swallowing whatever arguments he was going to make.
In a flash, Dumbledore was pulling Mrs Norris down, having swept by us.
"Come with me, Argus. You too, Mr Potter, Miss Potter, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger."
Lockhart eagerly took a step forward.
"My office is nearest, Headmaster-just upstairs-please feel free-"
"Yeah, I don't think Filch is gonna want a photoshoot to remember this by, mate-" sardonically slipped out before I could stop it, "I mean, unless you have cat sunglasses, then it's a party-"
"Jewel!" Hermione exclaimed, horrified.
"...Judging by the judgemental look Hermione's giving me," I commented with a wince, "I feel like I might've said that out loud."
Harry and Ron were staring at me in disbelief.
Filch was sputtering.
"Thank you, Gilderoy," Dumbledore said, raising his voice slightly-and likely saving my life, going by Filch's twitching eye.
Speedily recovering, Lockhart puffed up importantly.
When Dumbledore started down the corridor with Mrs Norris' body and her twitchy owner, the crowd silently parting, he was quick to go along, looking way too excited to have a dead cat poked and prodded in his office.
Professor Snape and McGonagall followed after.
As we walked in, several of the Lockharts on the walls darted out of sight in hair rollers while others started at the sudden intrusion and tried to get a look at what was going on and why we were all here at this hour.
Meanwhile, the life-sized Lockhart(-that wasn't on the back of the door)was lighting the candles on his desk.
As he stood back, Dumbledore placed Mrs Norris on the polished surface and began his examination-which was kind of awkward and uncomfortable with us all just standing around watching him without saying anything. Harry Ron Hermione and I shared tense looks but, when we weren't questioned and were pretty much ignored, found some chairs outside of the circle of light and sank into them.
(it didn't escape Harry that I was keeping myself between him and Filch, and still shooting the caretaker subtle dirty looks).
Dumbledore had bent down so low that his nose was less than an inch away from touching Mrs Norris's fur as he poked and prodded her scrawny, dust-coloured, motionless body in an assumedly professional manner-and not out of morbid curiosity, like when you poke roadkill with a stick.
I mean, how do we even know he knows what he's doing?
As far as I know, Dumbledore isn't a vet.
Or a pet mortician.
Let's just hope he isn't just super into taxidermy-I have a feeling, headmaster or not, that that won't play well with this crowd.
(then again, I can totally imagine Filch stuffing and mounting Mrs Norris's body on the desk in his office...and bringing it to bed at night...).
McGonagall was almost as close to the cat as the gloriously bearded wackadoodle, staring at it with narrowed eyes.
Professor Snape was half in the shadows behind them with a weird look on his face, like he was trying really hard to not smile.
Sweet, so it's not just me.
I mean, I feel sorta bad for Filch(or, I did, before he threatened to kill my twin brother), but who hasn't daydreamed about grabbing Mrs Norris by her tail, swinging her around, and flinging her into the lake?
(-okay, that sounded bad-whatever Malfoy thinks, I really don't have anything against cats-I mean, they're self-serving sociopaths, which I can respect, and they're so cute and fluffy!-just because I adore Fang, and I threw up on that one cat, and stuck another one to a wall, doesn't mean or prove anything-).
Lockhart was just kind of hovering around them all like a huge gnat, yapping away, oblivious to the fact that no one cared.
When I caught Professor Snape glancing my way, I couldn't help but subtly tap my temple before imagining a giant pink flyswatter swishing out of nowhere to squish the annoying blonde on the wall.
He somehow kept his composure, but the small smirk that slipped through let me know that it, surprisingly, worked.
-oh, this has so much potential for chaos.
"It was definitely a curse that killed her-probably the Transmogrifian Torture-I've seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn't there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her..."
Filch let out a series of dry, racking sobs from where he was slumped over in a chair by the desk, face in his hands.
In spite of the whole 'threatening to kill Harry' thing, I felt a prickle of pity.
Even Harry himself seemed to feel a bit sorry for the caretaker-if sorrier for himself, seeing as he seemed to think there was a snowball's chance in Mordor that Dumbledore could possibly believe Filch's stupid accusations and expel him.
Dumbledore was using his wand to tap Mrs Norris's body as he muttered strange, likely magic-related, words beneath his breath.
Nothing happened.
Lockhart was still going.
"...I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadougou, a series of attacks, the full story's in my autobiography-"
I mimed hanging myself, and Professor Snape cleared his throat quietly and looked away, hiding the smirk on his face.
The dirty look Hermione was giving me had me swallowing my proud grin and looking around innocently as I twiddled my thumbs.
"-I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once..."
The Lockharts on the walls were all nodding their agreement with their prattling real-life counterpart.
Ha, one of them still has their hairnet on-
Finally, Gandalf-The-Witch-Doctor/Dead-Cat-Mortician(that may or may not dabble in taxidermy in his free time)straightened back up again to address the caretaker, leaving the rest of us on the edges of our seats.
(meanwhile, my brain: "I told the witch doctor you didn't love me true, I told the witch doctor you didn't love me nice, and then the witch doctor he gave me this advice, ooh ee ooh ah ah ting tang-probably shouldn't of murdered that cat then, ooh ee ooh ah ah-dead cats make bad Valentine's~"...I'll see myself out-).
When he spoke, his voice was soft.
"She's not dead, Argus."
Lockhart shut up.
-oh, thank god.
If he didn't stop listing off all of the murders he'd supposedly prevented, I swear to Merlin I would've hit him over the head with my chair-which, far as I can tell, is the closest thing he's got to an off switch.
"Not dead?" Filch choked out, finally looking at his cat, if only through his fingers. "But why's she all-all stiff and frozen?"
"She has been Petrified."
"I thought so!" came from Lockhart's direction.
Once again, no one paid him any attention.
"But how," Dumbledore said, "I cannot say."
"Ask him!" Filch shrieked.
His wet, blotchy face turned on Harry.
I instantly bristled.
"No second year could have done this," Dumbledore attempted to reason in a firm voice. "It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced-"
"He did it, he did it!" the purple-faced caretaker spat. "You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found-in my office-he knows I'm a-I'm a-" his face worked horribly. "He knows I'm a Squib!"
For a moment, my confusion was all that kept me from snapping.
-right up until Filch's blood-stained eyes landed on me.
"And her-the girl-she's probably his accomplice!" he pointed at me accusingly. "Just this afternoon, she viciously attacked Mrs Norris-"
"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" I groaned, hitting the arm of my chair, "I didn't mean to step on your bloody cat!"
"You did what?" Hermione sputtered.
"I told you-I went trick or treating with Malfoy-" I reminded her offhandedly as if that explained everything.
Hermione and Ron stared at me incredulously.
Everybody-Lockhart's weird, shameless moving portraits included-was gawking at us, much to Harry's obvious discomfort.
"I never touched Mrs Norris!" he said after shaking off my statement, raising his voice. "And neither did Jewel! And I don't even know what a Squib is."
"Rubbish!" Filch just snarled. "He saw my Kwikspell letter!"
The word Kwikspell rang a bell, but Squib didn't.
What, is he a vegan "Squib" substitute-like, he's the tofu of wizards?
-that feels like the wrong conclusion, but I could honestly care less.
"If I might speak, Headmaster," Professor Snape finally spoke up, which did not bode well for Tweedledum, Tweedlejustasdum, or Alice.
(sidenote; Professor Snape is totally the blue caterpillar-and I might be dressed head to toe as the Queen of Hearts right now, but I would so be the Cheshire Cat-or the March Hare, should I be so inclined-).
Harry had a look of trepidation.
"Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time-" His slight sneer doubted that, "But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn't he at the Halloween feast?"
In a flash, Harry Ron and Hermione's voices blended together as they rushed to explain Sir Nick's deathday party invite.
"...there were hundreds of ghosts, and Jewel is in full costume-and caused a huge scene with one of the ghosts, they'll tell you we were there-"
"But why not join the feast afterwards?" The light from the candles made the Potions Master's eyes glitter. "Why go up that corridor?"
"That was my fault," flew out of my mouth before I could stop it.
Startled eyes turned to stare at me.
-shit.
I rubbed the back of my neck, feigning discomfort in an attempt to give myself a few extra seconds to come up with a lie on the spot.
(honestly, just fuck whatever it is that has me impulsively throwing myself in the line of fire for Harry; if I had to guess, it's the product of a lifetime of rejection, and being alone and unwanted, and going from place to place without any secure attachments, and the deep-rooted fear of the Morrisseys, the only people to ever give a damn about me, finally deciding that I'm not worth it-only to find out about Harry, and find a sense of permanence even him rejecting me couldn't take away, because him not wanting to know me wouldn't make him any less my twin brother, and my desperation to protect, not just him, but that abstract construct of permanence and not being alone-not to mention my messily buried fear that, now that I've gotten a taste of what love and having a family feels like, if I let down my guard, and it all goes away, it'll be infinitely more painful to go back to foster care, and my old life, and Idon'twanttogoback, and...okay, that got way heavier than I expected it to-holy shit-).
"And why, exactly," Professor Snape said wryly, "was it your fault that, instead of returning to the Great Hall and the Halloween feast, the four of you were found on the second floor? By your own admission, Halloween is the only holiday you find worth celebrating. As demonstrated by the costume you are currently wearing-"
"I had a panic attack," I blurted, staring hard at my pink All-Stars and mentally letting out a litany of curse words.
The atmosphere of the room shifted slightly.
"You had a panic attack?" McGonagall repeated, sounding concerned.
Genuine discomfort pressed down on my chest, hard.
"I get really bad panic attacks sometimes," I admitted with a grimace, forcing myself to ignore the eyes boring holes into me from all sides as my knees started to bounce. "You can owl my guardians, they'll tell you. I've talked to Professor Snape about it, too. I haven't had to take medication in ages, but sometimes things just...set it off. Ron said something stupid, and he didn't mean anything by it, but it's like a flip just switched, and I couldn't...shit..." unable to run my fingers through my hair to help soothe my rising anxiety, I absentmindedly tugged at a loose glittery curl on the side of my face, "I ran off, and they went after me. I guess I ended up on the second floor-I wasn't really paying much attention. Then, of course, we just had to stumble onto a bloomin' wall of horrors. On the upside, I was so shocked that I, ironically, stopped panicking and managed to pull myself together-"
After a beat of heavy silence, I looked up slightly.
My eyes met Professor Snape's.
He didn't look impressed.
Especially when I lifted my eyebrow, silently daring him to call the traumatised pre-teen with panic attacks a liar and see how well that goes for him.
"I suggest, Headmaster," my Head of House finally said, rising to the bait, "that Miss Potter is not being entirely truthful-"
"Are you suggesting," McGonagall interrupted, pursing her lips, "that she's lying about having a history of panic attacks?"
Professor Snape faltered.
"Well, no-"
"So this is something she has previously confided in you?" the deputy headmistress pressed, not giving him a chance to recover.
"Yes, but-"
"So you're saying that she's telling the truth about her panic attacks-" she stated shortly, "but not this, specific, panic attack."
McGonagall had a deadpan look on her face.
Professor Snape looked annoyed.
"Yes, Jewel Potter has panic attacks-and yes, this is something we have spoken about previously at length-but she is also extremely protective of her brother and, if asked, would not hesitate to lie for him. So, the question becomes, what is it that Mr Potter is so desperately trying to hide? It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest."
"Really, Severus," McGonagall said sharply, taking a stand against her house team losing their prized Seeker, "I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong, least of all that he asked his sister to lie about having something as serious as a panic attack to cover up some nefarious plot."
Dumbledore's eyes were closely searching mine and Harry's faces.
I didn't doubt that he was using his own Jedi Mind Tricks in an attempt to get to the bottom of the situation.
-hope he likes ABBA because I've been singing Dancing Queen, loudly, in my head for the past five minutes.
"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus."
His firm statement left Professor Snape looking furious.
-dancing queen, feel the beat from the tambourine, oh yeah-
Filch too, judging by his bulging eyes.
"My cat has been Petrified! I want to see some punishment!"
"Sadist," I muttered, crossing my arms and slumping back in my seat, still refusing to meet Harry Ron or Hermione's eyes.
"We will be able to cure her, Argus," Dumbledore said, with more patience than I could've mustered in the same situation. "Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs Norris."
"I'll make it," Lockhart was quick to offer. "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep-"
"Excuse me," Professor Snape icily interjected. "But I believe I am the Potions master at this school."
-well, this feels super awkward.
"You might be the Defence teacher," I added in, once again finding everyone's startled eyes on me, "and some sort of magic guru-but Potions is Professor Snape's field of expertise, and there's no one better. The only reason he doesn't have your job right now, is because Dumbledore couldn't possibly replace him-or spare a Potions master of his calibre. And, I mean, a monkey could teach Defence. Just hurl a banana or something. Potions is a much more complex and precise branch of magic. Also, if you make it in your sleep, it's unlikely to revive Mrs Norris so much as cause her to grow tentacles, so maybe leave it to the professionals, yeah?"
Ron coughed into his arm, covering a snigger.
Lockhart's expression was visibly strained.
Professor Snape rose an eyebrow at me, wondering silently if that was my attempt at a peace offering/bribery.
I shrugged sheepishly.
To my relief, he smirked, which I'm assuming means we're good.
Even McGonagall and Dumbledore seemed to be hiding smiles at my snarky comment.
"You may go," the headmaster told us finally.
Suffice to say, we didn't stick around to tempt fate.
꧖ꦿꦸ⊰ ⊱꧖ꦿꦸ
We just short of ran out the door, up the stairs, and into the first empty classroom we came across a floor up from Lockhart's office(I tried to slip away in the opposite direction, but Harry caught the back of my robes).
"Jewel-"
"Don't."
I crossed my arms, glowering at the ceiling to avoid looking at their dimly lit faces.
"You never said," Harry said quietly.
"I've never said a lot of things!" I snapped, only to deflate when I saw his hurt expression. "Look," I sighed, "I covered for you with the whole freaky murder voice thing-so, drop it. I had panic attacks, whatever-but I dealt with them, and now I'm fine. I also had a speech impediment between the ages of three and six, but you don't see me shouting it from the rafters, do you? I just-I don't like talking about this stuff-"
"You're my sister, Jules," he argued. "If you had panic attacks-or even a speech impediment-then I should know."
"Well, now you do. Happy?"
"I can't believe you talked to Snape about this. Snape. Why is it that you can talk to him, but you can't talk to me?-"
"It's not-shit. Just, leave it alone. It's not import-"
"'Not important?'" his voice rose, "You have panic attacks, Jewel! You used to be on medication! This is just like the Mirror of Erised all over again-"
"Harry, I swear to god-"
"You were talking about what you saw, and how you felt, and I didn't know any of that. And now all of a sudden you get panic attacks?"
"What, do you want to go sit down with some hot cocoa and marshmallows by the fireplace while I list off all the ways that I am a royally screwed-up human being? Would hearing any of that really make anything better?"
"Yeah, maybe! You know all of that stuff about me. And I'm supposed to know about you too, but you never say-"
"Well, maybe if the Dursleys didn't abandon me, you would know-so take it up with them, and stop talking!"
We glared at each other.
"You have to admit, though, it was a brilliant cover story-one of your best, Jules-" Ron piped up after trading a look with Hermione, awkwardly breaking the tense silence. "And really quick-thinking. Even when Snape tried to argue, it just made him look like a jerk who was picking on a twelve-year-old girl with panic attacks-"
"That was the idea, yeah," I hummed lightly, refusing to feel bad when Harry's shoulders fell and he looked away with a frustrated and slightly dejected face.
I was also ignoring Hermione, who was all frowny.
"D'you think I should have told them about that voice I heard?" Harry said after a moment, looking back up.
"Yes."
"No."
Ron's head snapped in my direction.
"What do you mean, 'yes?'" the redhead demanded, taken aback. "You're the one that lied about it and covered for us!"
"Only because of my frankly pathological need to protect Harry-" I flung back, "and to buy him some time to think it through-"
"Look," he said, turning back to my twin, "hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world."
My shoulders tensed subtly.
"Exactly," I agreed sharply, an edge of defensiveness in my voice that I couldn't completely stamp out. "He needs help. This thing is dangerous, and it keeps going on about wanting to kill shit. Might be something the headmaster of the school we are currently attending would be interested in, don't you think?"
Ron made to retort but, before he could-
"You do believe me, don't you?"
"'Course I do," Ron told Harry quickly. "But-you must admit it's weird..."
My jaw tightened.
"I know it's weird," Harry said. "The whole thing's weird. What was that writing on the wall about? The Chamber Has Been Opened...What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know, it rings a sort of bell," Ron admitted slowly before I could, and I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to recall what it was/why, and from where, I recognised it-only to come up frustratingly blank. "I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once...might've been Bill..."
"And what on earth's a Squib?"
Surprisingly, Ron stifled a snigger.
"Well-it's not funny really-but it's Filch. A Squib is someone who was born into a wizarding family but hasn't got any magic powers. Kind of the opposite of Muggleborn wizards, but Squibs are quite unusual. If Filch's trying to learn magic from a Kwikspell course, I reckon he must be a Squib. It would explain a lot. Like why he hates students so much." Ron smiled, satisfied. "He's bitter."
"So, wait, Filch hates kids, and is bitter because he doesn't have magic-" I deadpanned, "so his solution was to work at a boarding school for magic, ages 11 and up? By that logic, if he hated being stared at and was bitter about feeling like he was being put on display, he'd go get a job as a live mannequin."
Somewhere nearby, the chiming of a clock punctuated my statement.
"Midnight," Harry noted. "We'd better get to bed before Snape comes along and tries to frame us for something else."
"Bit rich coming from you lot after last year-" I muttered under my breath.
We left the classroom but, before I could beat a hasty retreat, I felt a hand catch the back of my robes for a second time.
Shit.
"Go. I'll catch up-"
Harry nodded down the corridor.
'Take me with you,' I mouthed at Ron and Hermione pleadingly, only half joking.
They hesitated but, after a look from Harry, traded a glance and unanimously decided against being bystanders to yet another super personal and tense argument like the one we'd had, like, five minutes ago and left.
The Slytherin in me appreciated the show of self-preservation.
The rest of me wanted to hurl my glittery sceptre at their stupid heads.
"Traitors!" I hissed after them.
When I turned back to Harry(who had smartly kept a hold of my robes so I couldn't suddenly make a break for it)and saw the serious look on his face, I found myself shifting uncomfortably in place.
I was expecting more of what happened earlier-some lecture about being more open about my past and my feelings, which would no doubt make me get all defensive and lead to us arguing again-
What I was not expecting, was an apology.
"I'm sorry."
"-you're sorry? Why are you sorry?" I blinked, thrown off balance.
Harry seemed sheepish.
"You don't like talking about it, and I shouldn't of gotten mad at you for that. It's just-when I heard you talked to Snape about your panic attacks, and not me, and I didn't even know anything about them, it reminded me of last Christmas when you said we'd only known each other for a few months, and that I didn't know you-"
Guilt twisted up my insides.
"I shouldn't of said that," I mumbled.
"You weren't wrong, though," he said, looking properly dejected. "I don't know you-"
"But you do!" I argued, running my fingers through my hair. "Harry...before the Morrisseys, I went through a lot of shit that I just want to forget. As far as I'm concerned, nothing before them matters. I'm not that person anymore. You know who I am now. The rest is just-details. All you need to know is that I'm your sister, and that I love you, and that there is nothing I wouldn't do to protect you. Isn't that enough?"
For an anxiety-filled moment, he didn't say anything.
Finally, he smiled faintly.
"Yeah. It is. I love you too."
I let out a breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding in.
-only for Harry's barely-there smile to fade.
Ah, there's that anxiety.
"I just-" he rubbed his neck, looking at me with a hint of concern in his bright green eyes, "I can't help but think that the thing you're really trying to protect me from isn't evil professors, or detention, or even Voldemort. It's you. And all that stuff that you never say. But if you keep trying to protect me, and never talk about anything...that can't be good for you. And I don't care if you talk to Snape, or even one of your Slytherin friends-as long as you have someone, you know? And I want to be that someone, but I can't if you won't let me. I mean, if you're always protecting everyone else, who'll protect you?"
"Harry...I stopped needing to be protected a long time ago," I said softly, repeating what I'd said to Dobby. "Really. I'm okay. I talk to Ms Dodds-" I kind of lied when he didn't look convinced, "and I have Alistair and Dakota. You don't need to worry about me."
"I'm your brother. It's my job to worry," he said.
I kicked his foot lightly, half-smiling.
"Dork."
He grinned back before sobering.
"You do believe me, right? About the voice? I know it's weird, but-"
"Harry."
Harry looked at me in surprise and slight insecurity.
So, I grabbed his hand-and did what I wished someone, anyone, had done for me.
"Of course I believe you," I said firmly, squeezing his hand. "I know you feel like you're losing your mind, and you don't know why, and that's scary. But, weird or not, I know you. We're going to figure this out, like we always do-and, whatever it is, I'll be with you every step of the way. Everything is going to be okay."
"Thanks, Jules," Harry said quietly, giving me a grateful look.
I squeezed his hand again.
"Anytime, Scotch tape."
When I finally got back to the dungeons, I wasn't surprised to find Malfoy and our respective dorm mates waiting for me.
-what did surprise me, was the fact that they'd already set up their blankets by the fireplace, mine included, and had an array of Halloween-themed desserts(no doubt courtesy of Malfoy-the only one of them who, thanks to our one-on-one Quidditch practices, actually knows where the kitchens are)from bright red toffee apples and black-coated "poison" apples; to black cat and ghost cookies; to brownies with spiderwebs iced on them; to black velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting drizzled with raspberry jam/"blood"; to sandwiches that, while not a dessert, were giving me some serious Batman vibes.
They also had two pitchers, golden goblets, a plate of delicious-looking red tarts with hearts, and what looked like a-lemon meringue pie?
"Go change into your pyjamas-" Pansy ordered as soon as I walked into the common room, gesturing a cat-shaped cookie at me. "I don't care how tired you are, or that it's past midnight-you were caught in front of a dead cat-"
"And not just any dead cat-" Zabini cut in, "Filch's dead cat-"
"-and a bloody message about someone opening the Chamber of Secrets-so, spill-"
"Fair enough," I shrugged, not really in the mood to argue. "Malfoy-"
I held out my hand expectantly.
He handed me a spider-web brownie.
"I meant hand me my axe, but this works too," I hummed, taking a big bite.
I seriously could've cried, it was so good.
"I know," the blonde said, picking up said axe. "You just looked like you needed a brownie."
"Careful there-" I took my axe back after polishing off the chocolate brownie, waving it at him teasingly, "you're dangerously close to inching over to mild dislike territory-but that might just be the chocolate talking-"
"So this whole time," he remarked wryly, "all I had to do to get you to stop hating me was bribe you with Halloween-themed brownies?"
"-Not really," I shrugged again, "but it doesn't hurt. I tend to feel more complacent when I'm sleepy, in my pyjamas, and eating chocolate."
"I'll keep that in mind," Malfoy drawled, smirking slightly.
"Hey!" Pansy clapped her hands to get our attention, forcefully jabbing the now headless cat cookie in the direction of the steps leading up to the girls' dorms and looking suddenly irritated about something. "Pyjamas. Chop, chop."
"Alright, sheesh-" I held up my foam Viking axe and my heart-topped sceptre in joking surrender, "I'm going, I'm going-"
I rolled my eyes to Malfoy, who bit back a grin.
"I saw that!"
"You were meant to!"
Getting out of my costume was not something I could do quickly, but the Halloween dessert-themed mini-feast downstairs was a powerful motivator.
After changing into a Rolling Stones band shirt, my tie-dye sleep shorts, and a pair of black ankle socks with white skulls and orange and grey stripes near the toes, I stopped in the bathroom to wipe off my make-up(and take out my space buns)-but, remembering that Malfoy still had his diamond, left my heart alone.
And my sparkly mini crown headband-for, Queenly purposes.
-also, I feel like my glittery hair would look weird without it, aesthetically.
When I came back down and found my blankets/designated spot between Pansy and Daphne, Malfoy was already holding out a red toffee apple.
"You're a really good enemy," I told him seriously, accepting the applelicious treat and happily starting to lick it to soften the hard/sweet coating.
"Thanks, I think," Malfoy drawled, looking amused.
"There's a jug of ice-cold pumpkin juice for us-" Daphne pointed at each of the pitchers separately, "and lemonade for you and whoever else wants some-"
"Don't get me wrong, this is the best thing ever-" I whistled, taking in our mini-feast, "but, just, so much food-"
"Blame the house-elves," Malfoy said, shrugging. "You went to a ghost party, so there wouldn't of been any food, and when I told them you missed the feast, and that you'd be hungry, they went kind of overboard. You just missed them. They even baked you a whole lemon meringue pie because they remembered that you don't really like pumpkin-which is also why we have lemonade-and made you sandwiches, that they cut into bat-shapes, to make sure you eat something savoury-"
"What did you do? Buy them all new cleaning supplies?" Pansy questioned, disbelieving. "Save them from that mountain troll that broke in last year? Do they owe you a blood debt? Or did you just, like, slip them something-?"
"Potter is one of the best potioneers in our year-" Zabini considered.
"People can just like me, you know!" I complained, slightly affronted. "I have a loveable, cheeky, adorkable kind of charm! It's not my fault that it doesn't play as well when you're exposed to it 24/7!"
"-No, really, what did you do?" Daphne said.
I pouted, licking my toffee apple a bit sullenly.
"I treated them with respect," I huffed, "and actually thanked them and complimented them on their work-and showed genuine interest in their history and way of life. I also know their names, and don't act like all house-elves are interchangeable and only exist to serve me like an entitled dick."
"Why do I feel like that was a shot at me?" Malfoy remarked.
"I complimented you for the toffee apple-that's as far as my niceness goes-"
"You called me a 'good enemy'-do you even know what a compliment is?-"
"I know what a compliment is!"
"Yeah?" he scoffed challengingly, "Prove it."
"I would-" I wrinkled my nose, "but me complimenting you upsets the delicate balance of the universe and existence as a whole-if I complimented you I'd probably, like, cause the apocalypse or something-"
"Complimenting me causes the apocalypse?" Malfoy deadpanned, only to smirk slyly. "So you can't compliment me, but you can think I have pretty eyes?"
"Excuse me-?" Pansy choked on a ghost cookie.
Tracey hastily patted her back.
Daphne rose her eyebrows.
"Ignore him-he's a pathological liar-also, delusional-" I stated, dutifully focusing on my toffee apple so I wouldn't blush.
-any worse than my warm face told me I already was.
Malfoy grabbed himself a "poison" apple with a stupidly self-satisfied look on his stupidly smug face.
"So, about Filch's dead cat?" Tracey said quickly, looking at me imploringly.
"It's really not a long story-" I warned, "or as crazy or interesting as you lot seem to think it's going to be-"
"We'll be the judge of that," Daphne said matter-of-factly, idly toying with/peeling off the wrapper of one of the 'blood drizzled' black velvet cupcakes. "Your threshold for crazy is way higher than ours-"
I stuck out my tongue childishly, and she smirked.
"First off-Mrs Norris isn't dead-"
"Wait, what?" Tracey blinked rapidly, startled. "How-?"
"Looked pretty dead hanging from that torch bracket-" Malfoy snorted, arching an eyebrow.
"She was Petrified~" I wriggled my fingers dramatically.
"...Which means?" Daphne questioned weirdly after a beat of silence, where everyone basically just stared at me with blank faces.
"Dumbledore didn't really explain-" I admitted, scratching the back of my neck, "but, based on context alone, I'd imagine it's some really advanced and possibly illegal Dark magic that freezes living things, like cats, and traps them in a kind of statue-like state. It's actually pretty horrifying if you think about it-"
"Going by the assumption that you Potter Granger and Weasley didn't use Dark magic to 'Petrify' Filch's cat-" Malfoy cut in, "and that you just have amazingly bad timing and are probably cursed-and ignoring your questionable track record with cats-"
I pulled a disgruntled face, and he smirked.
"...what happened?"
"Obviously they didn't do it-" Zabini said derisively before I could retort, rolling his eyes, "there was blood on the wall, but nothing on them or that they could've used to put it up there-and, knowing Potter, she would've gotten more on herself than on the wall-"
"I'd argue, but that's very accurate," I acknowledged with a wry smile.
"-and if they did Petrify the cat," he continued, "they sure as hell wouldn't have stuck around and waited to get caught. Gryffindors might be loud morons, but Potter's a Slytherin, and, when she isn't running around trying to behead everybody, she's displayed moments of actual intelligence-like with that turban-wearing idiot last year-"
"Arguably, that was incredibly stupid, too," Daphne pointed out.
"But mainly the Gryffindor's faults," he countered.
"And it's not like Jewel had a lot to work with-" Tracey defended. "They put her in an almost impossible situation-"
"And that right there is why you're the favourite-" I informed her, gesturing at her with my toffee apple before taking a bite. "Followed by Daphne, Zabini-" I winked at the dark-skinned boy, who smirked, "Pansy, Nott, and everybody else. Malfoy's somewhere around green beans, wet socks, mosquitoes, homework, and those pebbles that just randomly end up in your shoes."
"-I was honestly expecting worse," Malfoy drawled.
"The homework one was pretty bad though-" Daphne mumbled.
"How is Zabini higher than me?!" Pansy demanded.
"He thinks I'm attractive-" I shrugged like it was obvious, "and he doesn't hog the shower and use up all the hot water in the mornings-"
"In your dorm, maybe," Malfoy scoffed.
"At least I don't spend half the morning in front of the mirror fixing my hair-" Zabini retorted.
"What?" the blonde shot back, "mad I'm taking away precious time you could be spending checking yourself out like you do in literally every reflective surface-"
"Ladies, ladies-" I wove for silence, highly amused, "calm down, you're both pretty-"
"I prefer debonair or gorgeous-" Zabini corrected, seeming genuinely offended at being labelled as merely 'pretty'.
"My sincerest apologies, Zabini-you're positively dishy," I said in my driest voice.
"It's a step up from pretty, I suppose," he sniffed. "The closest thing our society has to the literal Adonis works, too, for future reference. It's a bit wordy but, I mean, look at me. As if this face could be described as something as common as-" his nose scrunched up with obvious distaste, much to my amusement, "ugh, 'pretty'."
-wooooow; considering Zabini has referred to me as "pretty", more than once, I'm gonna go ahead and reserve the right to be obnoxiously offended by that later.
"Does anyone have a paper bag?" Malfoy wondered seriously, pulling a disgusted face. "I suddenly feel like throwing up-"
"Which will do wonders for your complexion, I'm sure," Zabini insinuated with a snort.
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"I'd think my point was pretty self-explanatory. And, I'm just saying, if it was a choice between life or being forced to use whatever, uh, quality product it is that you put in your hair every morning...well, not much of a choice, now is it?"
"Is this how you guys feel watching me and Malfoy argue all the time?" I remarked, looking over at the others with a grin, "because, if it is, I have no idea what you're complaining about-this is amazing-"
If it was possible to kill a person just by scowling at them, Malfoy would've vaporised Zabini-and that haughty look on his face-where he sat.
"So, about Mrs Norris being Petrified?" Tracey said loudly over all the bickering, once again trying to be the unofficial peacekeeper.
"Right-"
Going along with the subject change(if only because-as entertaining as Malfoy and Zabini's straight-up catfight was-Tracey looked like she wanted to pull out her hair-), I quickly went over the Deathday party-
"Only you would bring a toy axe to the deathday party of a ghost who was beheaded with a blunt axe-" Malfoy said, shaking his head in amused disbelief, "use it to threaten a bunch of headless ghosts-then go get caught, by the entire school, in front of a threat written on the castle wall in blood and the school caretakers dead cat, hanging by its tail on a torch bracket, still holding said axe-"
"Petrified cat-" Daphne corrected. "But yeah," she added sardonically, feigning pride, "that's our little escaped mental patient."
"What kind of crap star were you born under?" Zabini deadpanned.
"When they called it a curse scar, they really weren't kidding, huh?" Pansy commented ironically, eyeing my neck.
"Anyway!" I rose my voice, clearing my throat and rubbing my scar a bit self-consciously, "we left the party, ended up on the second floor-and boom, Mrs Norris. You all turned up, like, almost right after us."
"-That's it?" Daphne arched an eyebrow, looking underwhelmed. "No sentient flying cars, or duelling deranged professors working for defunct Dark Lords? I mean, you weren't even breaking curfew or anything-"
"Told you it wasn't a super crazy, interesting story," I shrugged(leaving out the super crazy and interesting parts for obvious reasons-I also didn't tell them that Filch is a Squib, because I'm not that much of an asshole-).
"Who do you think did it?" Tracey questioned. "It had to be one of the upper years if they used advanced Dark magic like that-"
"It was probably just a stupid Halloween prank," Pansy figured indifferently.
"A stupid Halloween prank using advanced Dark magic?" Nott spoke up sceptically.
-and, you know, the evil murdery voice living in the walls that only Harry can hear that led us there in the first place-
"'The Chamber of Secrets Has Been Opened'," she mocked, "'Enemies of the Heir, Beware'-I mean, how dumb is that? The Chamber of Secrets is just some made-up story."
"Wait, you know what the Chamber of Secrets is?" I sat up quickly.
"Yeah-we all do-" Pansy motioned around obviously.
"It's all about our house, after all," Daphne added. "You know? Salazar Slytherin's 'secret Chamber within the school?'"
"Oh, damn-" it finally clicked, leaving me feeling like a total idiot for not realising it sooner. "I am, I am thick, I am-spending too much time with Gryffindors..."
"Can't argue with that logic-" Malfoy smirked.
I took the time to pull an immature face at the amused blonde, before going back to trying to remember everything I knew about the Chamber of Secrets.
"I read about it in Hogwarts, A History-" I said, speaking more to myself and biting my thumb, eyebrows furrowed, "something about how the school was founded, like, a millennia ago during the whole 'burning suspected witches alive' era by Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, and Rowena Ravenclaw-who weren't super creative with naming their school houses, and are lucky they coincidentally have aesthetically cool surnames that worked really well and no one was named, like, 'Hooker' or 'Lipschitz'.
"But then there was that whole fall out between our founder and the others-Slytherin and Gryffindor especially-because he wanted to keep magical learning within all-magic families and found students from Muggle families untrustworthy, which is not a fantastic legacy for us Slytherins to live with-but, to play devil's advocate, Muggles were kind of, you know, burning us alive. In America, they even had a law against marrying Muggles for the same reason...probably minus the pervasive anti-Muggle/anti-Muggleborn racism that exists even in today's society.
"Slytherin split-and, left behind, was the legend of the Chamber of Secrets; a hidden chamber he supposedly built within the castle under the other founders' noses and sealed so no one would be able to open it-"
"Except for his heir," Daphne finished.
"And there was something about a monster that only the Heir could control-" I added, "and how they would, quote-unquote, 'unleash the horror within the Chamber and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic'. Which is, I'm guessing, why you said the Muggleborns were next?"
I glanced at Malfoy wryly.
"I was just pointing out the obvious-"
"Still super not okay, though-"
"If it was real, someone would've found it by now," Pansy reasoned. "And, whatever the monster is, it's been a thousand years-it'd have to be dead by now."
"Slytherin left," Nott shrugged, "stands to reason that maybe none of his heirs have come back to Hogwarts. You know, before now."
"Ooh, that's ominous," she scoffed sarcastically, unbothered.
"But what about that house-elf?" Tracey suddenly said.
Everyone looked at her in confusion.
She turned a bit pink under all of our stares.
"You know," she reminded us, "the one that warned Jewel that something really bad was going to happen at Hogwarts this year?"
"You don't think he meant the Chamber of Secrets?" I said, a pit of dread slowly beginning to form in my stomach.
"That's ridiculous...right?" Pansy voiced uncertainly.
We all shared looks, no one saying anything for a moment.
"Definitely," I agreed, despite the sudden cold certainty that Tracey might be right(which would explain a lot about Dobby's behaviour and what little I picked up from his mind, which was racing a mile a minute and all over the place). "If the elf knew anything about the Chamber of Secrets, he'd go to the authorities, not me and Harry."
"I don't know..." Daphne grimaced, "House-elves are bound to their wizard families-not to mention usually completely devoted and loyal; I didn't think they were even capable of disobeying at all before you said that one turned up out of nowhere, and got you an official Ministry warning, trying to get you and your brother to promise not to come back to Hogwarts-and spied on you and stole your mail-"
"Whether it was a prank or not," Malfoy said, frowning, "I'll owl my father. See if he knows anything about the Chamber of Secrets that isn't in Hogwarts, A History or widely known. Our whole family's been in Slytherin. He's bound to know something."
Still, I couldn't help but wonder.
If this is the start of what Dobby was trying to warn me and Harry about...what did he know? And how the hell did he know it?
And if the Chamber of Secrets is real and has been opened(the Heir could be anyone-there's no guarantee it's a Slytherin, but I know how it'll look to the other houses, as if we don't already get enough flack for being the "evil house"), and we just witnessed the beginning of something terrible(a thought that left me with a foreboding feeling)...then how bad are things going to get before it's all over?
A/N: EMAIL ALERTS ISSUE: hey, I haven't been getting email alerts for, like, two weeks now. I just found out that email alerts are now only active if "Email Opt-in" is enabled. Not sure if anyone else has this issue, but I was going mad trying to figure out what was wrong so I figured I'd add this note. It'll automatically disable after six months, which is the dumbest thing I've ever heard, but hopefully the problem is fixed now.
Reviews/Replies*̥˚✧!
Ghostwriter71: Thanks! :) I'm glad you're enjoying it. With her telepathy, Jewel has been exposed to a lot more than most kids her age-and she's never really been "sheltered" or even "taken care of" before the Morrisseys (-the opposite of Draco, who was very sheltered by his parents, grew up in a literal mansion, and always got everything he wanted and more). In ways, it makes her more mature and self-aware/"worldly". But she's still a kid and, at Hogwarts, she's taking full advantage of that and her newfound freedom from her past/being "that weird orphan/foster kid who didn't speak for weeks". Hogwarts is a clean slate, and she's just trying to enjoy herself as much as she can-around having to constantly drag Harry Ron and Hermione's asses out of danger/foil psychopaths. If the Witch King went up against Dumbledore, I feel more sorry for Harry or Newt Scamander or whoever else will be prophesized to ultimately "defeat?" him. You gotta admire Dumbledore's knack for delegation. And I don't even wanna imagine the state of Hogwarts if Cthulhu got involved (I wonder what Hogwarts house Cthulhu would be in?). Then again, the prophecy does say that the Witch King wouldn't be killed by a man (not couldn't, just wouldn't; doesn't Éowyn kill him in the end?)-so, maybe we call up Tonks or Hermione? Tonks could straight up Metamorphmagus herself into looking like a dude, make him get all cocky thinking he can't be killed, then be all 'surprise, asshole!' (which is basically what Éowyn did anyway as "Dernhelm"-which was her alias in the books).
Plume228: Aw, thank you so much! :)
SterekDestiel4ever: I'm so happy you're enjoying it! With Pettigrew, it's a bit of a delicate situation because Jewel can't know too much about that too soon. But while I write it as "thoughts", Legilimency/telepathy is more complicated than that. She can sense Pettigrew's awareness (as shown in chpt 7 when Ron first brings him out and Jewel stares at him before snapping herself with her rubber bands). But Pettigrew has been a rat for twelve years, so I'm going by the angle that his minds kind of regressed a bit in that form. He's still human and aware, but he's just spent sooo long in his Animagus form that his mind's just animalistic enough that Jewel doesn't know the difference-and, still struggling to figure out her telepathy, she wouldn't. She can read all animals' minds after all (it's different than reading a human's mind, but they do have thoughts and feelings and she taps into them just as well as anyone elses; it's like how Animagi can communicate with normal animals in some way, but that's never really expanded on in the books/movies), and some animals are very intelligent/aware-Crookshanks, for one. Jewel also thinks Scabbers is a magical rat, not a "common garden rat", so shit will hit the fan in PoA. The problem is, she can't tell Ron Harry and Hermione that there's something off with "Scabbers" because they don't know she can read minds and she's desperate to keep it that way. Yeah, Snape definitely has trouble seeing past Harry's face and similarities to James to see that he really is more like Lily. He and James are still a lot alike in ways though. Jewel had the advantage that she looks like Lily, not James. Snape was determined to dislike her all the same, and still has trouble looking at her sometimes, but it's like Dumbledore said; he slowly got to know her as Jewel, not her parents not Lily and not the person she portrays herself to be, and he grew a soft spot for her-even if, the reverse of Harry, she looks like Lily but is a lot more like James (while still having some of Lily's traits; they're both sparky, smart as a whip, and "fiery redheads" who don't like bullies and have an innate kindness, though Jewel is a lot more jaded and struggles to see the good in people where Lily saw the good in everyone-but Jewel is also mischievous, cocky, charismatic, loves Quidditch/sporty, clever/talented, very against prejudice towards Muggles/Muggleborns/werewolves/"half-breeds" and so on, fiercely loyal to her friends/loved ones, etc).
With Draco, he was raised to see himself as superior and everyone else as beneath him and that comes with a certain kind of entitlement. He didn't regret how he treated people, aside from maybe later in life, and if he ever felt a bit bad he'd just shove that feeling away/compartmentalise it. But he was also an immature kid and, like with Dudley, it was his parents' fault for how he was raised. Doesn't excuse it, but it makes it a bit more understandable-even if they both need a good whack upside the head and a helluva wake-up call (for Dudley, it was the dementors and Harry saving him - for Draco, it was Voldemort/the Death Eaters and being unable to kill Dumbledore; which could either be seen as cowardice, or show that even through everything Draco is not capable of murder). McGonagall has more trouble seeing beyond how much Jewel is so much like her father than Snape does (more because Snape prefers not to connect the two ideas). The first time she saw her since she was a baby (just before the Sorting Ceremony), and Jewel ran her fingers through her hair with the perfect mirror of her father's cocky grin, all McGonagall could see was a little eleven-year-old James and it threw her off. And in class, Jewel's behaviour mimics her fathers-if more hyper/bubbly, so she dismisses it as her being James's daughter like the rest of the staff (minus Dumbledore and Snape) without realising there are deeper causes. She's getting more hints of it now (like when Jewel tanks tests/and hands up gibberish that she used to think was a joke but doesn't now but answers the odd question in class and shows her in-depth knowledge of the subject and intelligence). Yeah, telepathy in reality would be awful. You can't always help the thoughts that cross your mind-and you can adore someone, and still think about how annoying they're being and how much you can't wait for them to shut up and go away so you can focus on whatever you were doing. And to be on the other side of it, and hear those thoughts but be unable to react to them, would suck. Also, people's minds are very NSFW (and even the nicest/best person can think pretty terrible things but not act on them, which would be disillusioning AF), and Jewel was a kid and hearing-so much she was too young to be exposed to. As time goes on, Jewel will have more moments where she's vulnerable/open to other people, but it's hard for her/a work in progress. She'll probably never stop hiding behind humour though/goofy antics/making snarky remarks. It's her shield (and not always healthy, which will be illustrated more before Act 2 is over), but it's also part of who she is. I can't wait to write more Remus/Jewel but, most especially, I can't wait to throw Jewel/Sirius together. She might look like Lily but, like Remus and McGonagall and everyone else, he'll very quickly come to notice that she's even more like her father than Harry is.
Notwritten: Thanks! You too. :)
Leofrick: Nope, I can confirm your sanity. Jewel insulting/threatening Draco is definitely her way of showing her affection/endearment. Her pet name for him is stuck-up dingbat/idiot/jerk, and his for her is lunatic/mental patient (a 'pet name' he shares with the rest of Jewel's Slytherin friends, notably her dormmates). You see it with Harry and Ron too when she'd call them "losers"/"morons" etc. but they never take it seriously (if they were upset at all, she'd notice with her telepathy and stop or do something to reassure them that she's joking) because they know that's her way of saying she loves them. She just has trouble expressing that in words. She's more of an actions person-like how, when you threaten someone she loves, she turns into a "cheery psycho" or how, when they get hurt, she tries to kill them herself/beat them up because they scared her and she didn't know how to deal with/express those feelings. You want to know how she feels about someone? Watch them get hurt, and watch her try to "break their arms" (like Harry in the Forbidden Forest or after their first Quidditch game-or even when he "got lost up a chimney"). Draco's jealousy over Seamus, and Zabini, is fun to write (Seamus's crush on Jewel is completely superficial and even he doesn't take it seriously...but would totally date her if she was at all interested, and Zabini flirts with Jewel because, unlike anyone else, he's starting to notice Draco's very obvious jealousy and likes poking the bear for his own amusement-also, she's attractive and fun and he just felt like it, though neither he nor Jewel means anything by it). Realistically, it'd be weird if people didn't have crushes on her, even if they are superficial-both because she's "pretty" and because she's very well-known and literally famous. Thanks! I'm happy you liked the Queen of Hearts/McGonagall bit. It was really fun to write. Jewel grew up resenting "family-centric" holidays, but Halloween always felt special to her. She got free chocolate just by going up to strangers' houses, got to dress up, watch scary movies, scare people for fun, and she didn't even care as much when she was alone. Looking back on her childhood, some of her few good memories are of her on Halloween. Seeing people not dressing up was sacrilege to her. Jewel and Draco are 100% Snape's favourites, hands down, and he might as well be walking around the castle in a Team Draco t-shirt like a diehard Edward vs. Jacob shipper. Dumbledore started to notice it in Act 1 (and had his suspicions by the end), but he isn't completely on Team Draco. Sure, he finds their back and forth amusing to watch and it's clear they make each other happy, but he'd be more concerned about what would happen should a relationship happen between them-only for Voldemort to come back, which would draw a line in the sand between them (thanks to the prophecy, Jewel being who she is/the "Girl Who Lived" and a person of interest to the "Dark Lord", and Draco's dad being a Death Eater in "the inner circle"). There's another big reason Draco/Jewel worries him, but I won't go into that for ages/until Act 5+6. The Deathday party was right up Jewel's alley. Sure, she was bummed she missed seeing dancing skeletons, but the atmosphere/aesthetic/set-up was so cool. Plus, she got to threaten Sir Patrick with a fake axe, which was the highlight of Sir Nick's entire evening I'm sure.