CHAPTER THREE: AN ANGEL IN PYJAMAS

Release

Where does reality begin and end,
does it lie within a circle's flow?
Am I Me from past or Me from now
and where did the old case go?

Did you know that it's easier to believe the bad
and think that we're the cause
Of hurts played out upon us deep
and deserved through Karmic Laws

Turned inside out and back again
the sense of who I was to be
Is caught in a drowning maelstrom
of Want and Fear and Need

Can you recognize the acrid smell of fear,
or see what color it paints your dreams?
Have you ever willed your lungs to breathe
while praying that breath would cease?

Did you know that breaking bones go crunch
and the sound will never leave your ears?
Did you know that bodies break, not bend,
as the spirit fills with tears?

Did you know that blood's a lubricant
and you will pray for it to spill,
When the sound from your lungs is a rabbit's scream,
harsh and thin and shrill

And that dying forces can overcome us
and some scars never heal,
That you can't find who you are inside
and where to connect to what is real

You think he can't enter your spirit,
that you're fighting off the blows
But time reflects your error as he settles
deeper than even your Psyche knows

I wear the mask, I dance the dance
of a woman free from scars and pain,
But remove the mask and I'm unrecognizable
even though I look the same

Dear Lord, haven't I had enough?
Why can't I bleed away pain from my soul?
Why can't wishing and willing and wanting to
be enough to make me whole?

By C.S.E. ( A Survivor)


7th September, Wednesday
Gryffindor Girls' Dormitory
Current Activity: Feeling really pissed off
Word of the Night: Insomnia (sleeping disorder, a disease that Lily often suffers from)

In which Puck has a strange dream.


The Cherub was holding a clover in his hands and admiring it from all angles.

"I'm sorry for breaking Petunia's doll", said a little girl earnestly, her big green eyes brimming with tears. "I'm sorry, I really am."

The Cherub just laughed merrily at her, not looking remotely angry. "Now, now, hush my dear sweet Lily", he consoled the Cherub in his fruity, childish voice. "Petunia knows it wasn't your fault; she's just angry at herself for being angry at you. You must give her time to cool off, and then she'll give you some of her delicious chocolate brownies, and you can be best friends again."

"I don't think we can ever be best friends", said Lily, rubbing her eyes vigorously. "Petunia's best friend is Roberta Williams and she thinks I am an ugly freak. The other day I caused her noselets to grow in long rings, and she called me Evil's Spawn."

And with that Lily broke into a fresh surge of tears.

"But aren't you forgetting something, my dear?" asked the Cherub. "Doesn't Petunia always laugh at your exploits? Doesn't she always reward you with her mint cookies? She loves you; you're her kid sister, after all!"

"I suppose you're right", said Lily in her watery voice. " She even allows me to tag along with her and her nasty boyfriend. Her 'Sentinel', she calls me."

The Cherub clapped his hands loudly. "See, deep down, you two are so fond of each other."

Lily nodded and sniffed several times. "But, Mr. Cherub", she said suddenly, "may I ask why you're wearing pyjamas? You're a cherub; you're supposed to wear Quidditch Robes, aren't you?"

The Cherub laughed again. "Don't be an imp!" he said, chortling. "I can wear anything I want. Besides, I was looking for four-leaved clovers in the Quidditch stadium, do you like this one? I thought I'd give it to you in return for the poetry-book I borrowed from your bedside table."

"The clover IS very pretty", agreed Lily. "Is it really for me? That's very kind of you! When I was but a wee toddler, I used to hunt around the pond for them. I don't know how to thank you………"

"Well, if you insist", said the Cherub, blushing. "You can go out with me."

"Oh dear!" said Lily, looking pain stricken. "I'm afraid I can't do that. You see, I have a secret admirer who writes the prettiest of letters, and he'll be heart-broken if he sees us snogging."

"Oh, well", said the Cherub. "If that is the case, you can darn my sock instead. The school rat has nibbled it to shreds."

Lily shook her head again. "I'm afraid I can't do that either", she said, crying again. "You see, I left my needles and thimble in the car, and….and the car crashed into the ditch, and…"

"You let your car crash into a ditch?" spluttered the Cherub in indignation, crossing his arms. "How rude! How absolutely mean! How utterly —-"

I woke up with a start, and for a moment I thought that my silly juvenile dream had actually transpired.

Then I heard the quiet sobs beside me, and my eyes swung into focus.

Lady Slumber is a friend of many, but sometimes even she cannot deliver my Lily from her gremlins. This too is one of those nights when she must sob quietly into her pillow, taking care to be inaudible.

She's twisting and writhing in her bed, as if its foundation is not feathers and velvet, but thorns and pines. Petunia's letter has robbed her of her sleep yet again. It is not Petunia's harsh slander that keeps Lily awake, but the knowledge that they can never again be the sisters they once were.

Ever since last year, Lily's life has been going downhill. First her parents' death, then a string of poorly chosen boyfriends and bad break-ups……and now to crown it all, Petunia wanting to disown her. It is really unfair how the nicest people have to bear the greatest burden.

I sometimes really feel very irritated by Lily. Why is she crying? It was never a secret that Petunia hates her. It's hardly a secret when your minx of a sister screams hatred at you at your parents' funeral. Maybe she'd never allowed herself to believe that the breach between the two sisters could never be bridged again. Maybe she's been in denial all this time…..

The pillow's so wet that it has become really uncomfortable now. One more tear, and I'm going to catch pneumonia. So I decided I'd had enough.

One swish of my tail, and the candle is alight. I suppose that's one of the advantages of my beautiful streamlined wedge-edged tail. Godmother Hoopoe has always said that it makes me look like a blue jay from afar. Whatever that means.

Lily raised her green eyes to meet the reproach in my yellow beady ones. I brandished my tail high, and brought it down upon her shoulder with a sharp slash! Lily calls it my Power Stroke.

Lily winced. "Stop that! And don't glare at me. I know you're angry with me, Puck", she said contritely. "But I can't help it. You don't know what's it like to lose a sister you've always idolized."

Really.

What IS it with humans that makes them such a poor judge of character? Placing people like that dung-brained demented Petunia on a pedestal, when they don't even deserve to be the mucus-secreted-by-the-fungus-growing-on-the-dirt-beneath-the-sole-of-the-toe-of-your-left-shoe.

"Its all my fault", she said softly, scratching my tufty head, as I tried my best not to fall asleep. "If I hadn't begged Mum and Dad to take me to the Carnival, they would be alive and happy in Evansville now, dancing to Frank Sinatra."

I gave her another one of my Power Strokes.

Slash!

To tell you the truth, I'm pretty tired of her morbid survivor's guilt. Its downright depressing to see that lovely smile of hers disappear poof! Just like that. Come to think of it, how long is it since I really heard her laugh? You know, laugh that merry, alive laugh that makes you imagine water oozing from a fountain? Why can't humans accept their sorrows and move on?

Looking a trifle ashamed of herself, she beckoned to me with her finger for that usual late-night kiss, the kind that makes me feel on top-of-the-world, and I was just about to snuggle into her warm hands, when –

"Hey, Countess Dracula! Cut out that light, some of us would like to sleep here!"

No points for guessing who that could be!

Emmeline Vance, of course! After all, losing her beauty sleep would be nothing short of a disaster for her. Think of all the snogs she could lose, all the Witch Weekly fans she could be criticized by, the boyfriends she could be dumped by…..

That's it!

What better way to get back at Miss Vain than to release some of my Stink Glands on her! Then she'll stay awake the whole night, fretting over her lost glory, and I'll give her a vampire-bat to keep her company. Calling Lily a Countess Dracula, indeed!

"Puck!" whispered Lily, and she grabbed hold of my wings as I was marching towards Emmeline's bed. "Don't please attack her! I know you don't like her much, but she's right. We should tuck back into sleep."

And she promptly blew off the candle, giving me a soft, sad smile in the darkness.

I hate those smiles of hers. They make you think that everything's all right in the world, even when you know it isn't. They disillusion you with the hope that Lily's happy again, even when you know there's as much chance of that as hair on Kettleburn's bald head.

Tomorrow that mask will be on again, and she will pretend as if nothing's happened. She's a great actress, I must say, for she even fools me sometimes.

Hey, wait a minute.

I didn't get my nightly kiss!

All thanks to Emmeline the Vainest of Vains, of course!


9th September, Friday
Chaos in the Girls' Dormitory
Current activity: Rubbing my bruised head
Word of the day: Portfolio ( a file for capturing one's brainwaves)

In which Puck loses something very dear to him.

This morning, I woke up to the 'thud' of Lily's comb falling upon my head, and for a moment I felt that I was having the hangover of one of Emmeline Vance's virulent perfumes.

It is a thankless job, I tell you, being the pet of a seventeen-year old girl who has suddenly decided to turn into something of a virago these days.

" I KNOW I kept it here!" Lily was repeating over and over again, as she overturned the drawer's contents onto the floor, and began throwing the articles hither and thither, making sure they hit me each time I moved.

Really.

This girl has a MAJOR sleeping disorder. First she cries till 2'o clock in the morning, and then she goes traipsing all over the school (earlier than usual these days, just to avoid Potter!) on her Early-bird-catches-the-Early-worm Walk. As if that weren't enough, she starts upheaving her trunk and cupboard at 7 a.m.? I mean, even though I am vibrant and dashing and vigorous, I AM much older than she is, and I need my daily dose of rest. If this continues, I'm going to go on a strike, and that's that!

"What's this ruckus about?" asked Hurricane Hestia as she tumbled out of her bed prostrate upon the floor. It's a feat that has become a daily ritual for her.

"My Artfolio!" cried a flustered-looking Lily, flinging her socks to the far corners of the Earth. "I can't find my Artfolio, has any of you seen it?"

Ah, her Artfolio. That utterly delightful collection of her sketches and drawings, that simply sumptuous manual of her portraits and craftworks……Reader, did I tell you that my Lily has the hand of true artist? Believe me, her quill can spin the most intriguing of pictures, perfect to a "T". And her Artfolio – very cleverly transfigured into a Quillcase – is the fruit of seven years' hard work and creative genius.

To say that her Artfolio's missing is nothing short of a catastrophe. Especially, as it included an extremely well-done marble figurine of mine, with all the wedges and the curves in the right places. I had hoped to send it to my Godmother Hoopoe in Transylvania one day, but unfortunately, some things can never be.

"But that's terrible, Lily!" ejaculated Jane, sitting up in her bed. "Don't you remember where you last saw it?"

Lily swung her arms around helplessly. "I always keep my Artfolio in the left drawer of my desk, and now it isn't there!"

I felt my heart sink.

Lily Evans is the most organized, disciplined girl in the entire Hogwarts, and she has the memory of an elephant. She never misplaces her things, and she would certainly never lose her most prized possession – her Artfolio.

There is only one explanation left.

"Someone must have stolen it", said Emmeline, twirling her hairlock with her index finger.

"What do you mean 'stolen'?" spluttered Lily in disbelief. "Why would anyone steal it?"

Emmeline the Vain rolled her eyes. "Come off it, Lily! You're the Headgirl and the top student of your year. You have many rivals in this school, all of whom are jealous of you, and would love to hurt you."

Hmm.

Is she describing herself? It could be, you know. I'll have to check her cubicle later on, when she's off snogging Boy Number 253.

"It seems to me that a gang of thieves has been set loose on the school", said Hestia, putting chunks of her toothpaste into her mouth (probably to freshen her pungent breath). "Yesterday, Dinah Finnigan was telling me how someone stole her Diamond Brooch. Then there's Margery Louise who says she is sure that she saw a hooded somebody crawl into the Ravenclaw Common Room, and steal their silver candlesticks. And not to forget, Gina Summers, who's put up a notice for her lost bracelet on the Bulletin Board. Oh, and did I tell you about Caroline Duffy who –"

"Oh, shove it, Hestia!" said Jane angrily. "Don't you see how upset Lily is?"

For Lily had slumped to the ground wordlessly with her head in her hands, looking the very picture of Patience smiling at Grief.

"But who on earth would want to steal Lily's Artfolio?" asked Hestia, shaking her head, apparently unabashed by Jane's reprimand. "I mean, its not so special or anything, what profits could it bring to anyone? It's just a jumble of drawings, nothing more. And so, I think Emmeline's right. Actually, I'm sure this one's done by a jealous co-year!"

Not special?

Fiddle Dee and Fiddle Dum! I bet she she's saying that because Lily refused to do her portrait two weeks ago. Well, what could Lily have said, with her head nose-deep in homework?

"Maybe that's why the Head students are supposed to live in the separate password-protected chambers allotted to them", said Emmeline, a sly grin about her face. "To be spared from the attacks of jealous co-years."

Lily and I both gave her scowls worthy of Narcissa Black.


9th September, Friday
Breakfast in the Great Hall
Current Activity: Mutilating the Tablesheets with my phlegm
Word of the day: Undernourished (starved, like a poor ole Pixie that goes by the name of Puck/Basil)

In which Puck practices his Aiming Skills.

Don't you just love blueberry muffins swimming in apple sauce and heaped with marshmallows, and the hot garlic soup that sends those delicious aromas through your cold-prone virus-inhabited nose? It's a great way to cleanse all your nasal-passages and prepare them for two-way traffic once again. So how come I'm having a cold magnificent enough to flood the entire room with my phlegm? All the credit goes to the one and only Lily Evans. Because thanks to Lily and her crazy morning walks, I'm now having a bout of earth-shattering sneezes. Maybe, if I'm lucky enough, I can sneeze into Emmeline's glass of Pumpkin juice, without her knowing?

Sigh.

Some dreams are too good to be true, for Emmeline's just swatted at me with her fork.

MILLIONS OF MUSKETEERING MERLINS!

What's this I see? No muffins? No apple sauce? No soup? No marshmallows?

What the devil is wrong with these stupid House-elves? Don't they know I need my daily share of marshmallows? All that I can see on the dining table are the boring bacon, exhausting eggs and tiring toasts!

THIRTY THREE THUMPING THESTRALS!

So the rumours were true. I'd heard that Pernitty the Head House-elf had caught the lovebug, and is moping about these days, but I hadn't believed it. After all, Pernitty has always been a crusty, grumpy fat-so, the least likely candidate for Cupid to select. Hmm. Its time I had a man-to-man talk with Pernitty, and remedied the change in his tastebuds.

"I met John while coming downstairs", said Jane, giving Lily a sideways glance through her owlish spectacles. "He says he has some awfully good news to tell you."

Lily managed to give her a weak smile here, but I daresay she'd rather have given Jane a death glare. Being accosted by Jane's lovesick twin brother after having just lost your Artfolio is not a good way to start a morning.

As usual, I turned out to be her punching bag.

"Puck!" she said crossly to me. "You're dropping bread crumbs all over my schoolrobes. If you don't stop it right NOW, I'm not going to knit those mittens for you!"

I showed her my finger, at which she rolled her peridot eyes, and went back to looking dejected.

A moment later, Hurricane Hestia fell into Lily's lap, upsetting the jar of marmalade in the process.

"Ouch!" cried Hestia, adding some lovely profanities under her breath as she struggled to get up. "My ankle, I think it's sprained! I twisted it around the leg of your chair!"

Now why doesn't that surprise me?

Lily helped Hestia up and examined her swollen already black-and-blue ankle carefully.

I love Hestia's bruises; they always show up so quickly and in such flamboyant colours and shapes. My favourite one so far is the deep red scar on her wrist which is shaped like a hippogriff, and was awarded to Hestia when a particularly vindictive baby Mandrake bit her there back in second year.

They say even Dumbledore has a scar on his knee shaped like the underground map of London. Maybe I can creep into his office when he's fast asleep and check it out. I hope he won't sue me for indecency.

"I think we should take you to the Hospital wing. That bruise looks serious", said Lily, as Hestia whimpered with pain.

"No! No!" cried the aghast Hestia. "I've had enough of Pomfrey's dreadful potions to last me seven lifetimes. I think she deliberately makes me drink the more putrid ones, so that I stay away from the hospital wing. I think I'll be alright without them; I'm used to falling all over the school."

Hear. Hear.

Lily and Jane traded skeptic looks, but said nothing, and I was allowed to resume my place on Lily's warm shoulder once more.

"My pimples are returning", said Jane suddenly, looking at her reflection in the back of her spoon.

I gaped at her. Is it possible that Vance the Vain has started distributing her fashion tips to Jane as well? I cannot imagine a worse horror than two girls living in the same dormitory freaking out over their reflections in a spoon, a mirror, a glass tumbler and every other shiny surface they can get hold of. Why, of course Miss Emmeline the Exhaustingly Vain had to defile the impressionable Jane Stebbins into worrying ceaselessly about her appearance. Her life would be incomplete and meaningless otherwise. Hmph!

After all, not everyone has an efficient guide like me who can steer them clear of these wayward temptations of make-up and attracting boys. Besides, Jane has always been too naïve and gullible for my tastes.

Oh. Goodness Gracious Me.

Someone please tell the poor girl that picking on pimples will only make them worse.

What sharp nails! Does she want to poke someone's eye out? My dear Jane, no, no, don't scratch there! Its only going to help in spreading the bacteria. I can't watch this! She's going to ruin her sweet face!

Lily and Hestia had just started lying to Jane that she hadn't had any attack of acne, when thankfully, a distraction arrived in the form of Sturgis Podmore.

"Hey, girls!" he said in his crisp cheery voice, as he bent down to kiss Hestia on the cheek.

I've always liked Sturgis. He's an extremely broad, sandy-haired fellow and is a great follower of the Cult of Marshmallows. Something he and I have very much in common.

"Did you find your Omnisculars, Sturgis?" asked Hestia, without caring about the fact that she was spilling tea all over her hair plaits.

Sturgis sighed heavily. "Nah, I didn't", he said, looking very woebegone. "I put up a notice too, but of no use. I've given up all hope of ever finding it again. Dad's going to kill me, when he finds out. He spent quite a sum on it; those Omnisculars had special voice-recording buttons as well."

"It seems all of us are losing our possessions these days", said Lily, scowling and spearing a potato with dignity.

Sturgis gave her a hard look.

"You know", he said, "I shouldn't even be talking to you, after the way you've dumped my friend. Elphias is so heartbroken that he hasn't spoken a word since days. First you canoodle with your own brother-in-law-to-be, then you dance with strange boys whom you claim to be your cousins and flaunt your ex-lovers at Elphias' face, and then you dump Elphias saying that he's a jealous straitcoat? The only reason why I'm still trying to be civil to a cruel Ice Queen like you is because you happen to be Hestia's best friend – God knows why -- and considering that-"

I think that Sturgis will remember Hestia's very loud slap and my very masterfully thrown fork for a very long time.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>


A/N: Lets see...Who will be the next Freud and tell me what that dream meant?

I apologise if my chapter is shorter than last time. But I've realized that shorter chapters mean quicker updates.

Please review.

Dr. Fawkes :D