Thanks for the reviews!
Disclaimer: Bree and the rules are mine, the rest belongs to Rowling.
Bree was sitting in the passenger seat of her family's SUV. Her Dad, who was 6'4" couldn't fit into a smaller vehicle.
"And be more careful this year." he said as he parked. "I don't want another letter saying that you've set yourself on fire or something."
"I'll try." Bree answered as she got out of the car. Her Dad went around to the back of the SUV and got Bree's rolling trunk out. They walked to the platform, said their goodbyes, and Bree went to find a place to sit. She soon ran into Hermione.
"Have you seen Ron or Harry?" the bushy haired girl asked. Bree shook her head. Hermione sighed. "If you see them tell them I'm looking for them." she requested before continuing her search.
Bree found out when the train arrived at Hogwarts that Hermione had never found Ron or Hermione, and it was soon revealed that no one else on the had seen them one the train either. Hermione was worried, but Bree was soon distracted by the horseless carriages.
Sitting at the Gryffindor table Bree watched the first years *coughfreshmeatcough* being sorted with mild interest, picking out which ones would be the most fun to traumatize. After the sorting had ended Snape walked in and said something to McGonagall and Dumbledore, who quickly left the hall. News of what was going on quickly spread through the school. Harry and Ron had flown a car all the way to Hogwarts. After the feast, Gryffindor had an impromptu party in the common.
Cheers rang out from everyone except Hermione and Percy when Ron and Harry walked in. The duo quickly retreated upstairs to the dorm. When Bree went up to her dorm she was treated to a long rant about how stupid the two boys were, courtesy of Hermione.
The next day, Bree slept in late and got down to the great hall just in time to see Ron pull an owl out of a jug of milk. The owl was holding a red envelope in it's beak. Neville and Ron were staring at it in horror.
"What's the matter?" said Harry.
"She's — she's sent me a Howler," said Ron faintly.
"You'd better open it, Ron," said Neville in a timid whisper. "It'll be worse if you don't.
My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and," he gulped, "it was horrible."
Harry looked from their petrified faces to the red envelope.
"What's a Howler?" he said.
But Ron's whole attention was fixed on the letter, which had begun to smoke at the corners.
Ron stretched out a shaking hand, eased the envelope from Errol's beak, and slit it open. Neville stuffed his fingers in his ears. A moment later Bree was forced to do the same because the whole Hall was filled with the sound of Mrs. Weasley yelling.
"—LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED —"
"—ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED — YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME."
A ringing silence fell. The red envelope, which had dropped from Ron's hand, burst into flames and curled into ashes. Harry and Ron sat stunned, as though a tidal wave had just passed over them. A few people laughed and, gradually, a babble of talk broke out again.
Bree's ears were ringing, and she now had the beginnings of what promised to be a very painful headache. She sighed, grabbed a piece of toast off the table and a course schedule from McGonagall, before heading back to the dorm to get some ibuprofen, before heading to her first class.
Bree got down to the greenhouses just as Professor Sprout walked up, accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart. Professor Sprout's arms were full of bandages, and Bree spotted the Whomping Willow in the distance, several of its branches now in slings.
"Oh, hello there!" Lockhart called. "Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels."
"Greenhouse three today, chaps!" said Professor Sprout, who was looking distinctly disgruntled, not at all her usual cheerful self.
There was a murmur of interest. They had only ever worked in greenhouse one before. Greenhouse three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants. Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door.
Bree had just entered the greenhouse, when she heard Lockhart say, "Harry! I've been wanting a word — you don't mind if he's a couple of minutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?"
Judging by Professor Sprout's scowl, she did mind, but Lockhart said, "That's the ticket," and closed the greenhouse door in her face.
Professor Sprout was standing behind a trestle bench in the center of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different-colored ear muffs were lying on the bench. When Harry had finally come in and taken his place between Ron and Hermione, she said, "We'll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"
To nobody's surprise, Hermione's hand was first into the air.
"Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," said Hermione, sounding as though she had memorized the textbook.
"It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."
"Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout. "The Mandrake forms an
essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"
Bree raised her, and Professor Sprout called on her. "If you hear the cry of a mandrake, you'll die." Bree explained.
"Precisely. Take another ten points," said Professor Sprout. "Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young."
She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke, and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in color, were growing there in rows.
"Everyone take a pair of earmuffs," said Professor Sprout.
There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy.
"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered," said Professor Sprout. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right, earmuffs on."
Bree did as she was told. The earmuffs shut out sound completely. Professor Sprout put the pink, fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.
A small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. The leaves were growing right out of his head. He had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of his lungs.
Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs.
"As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet," she stated calmly.
"However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up.
"Four to a tray — there is a large supply of pots here, compost in the sacks over there, and be careful of the Venemous Tentacula, it's teething."
She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.
Professor Sprout had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn't. The Mandrakes didn't like coming out of the earth, but didn't seem to want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists, and gnashed their teeth. Halfway through class, Bree tired and not paying attention to what she was doing, reverted back to an old habit she had picked up from gardening with her mother on her days off from work. It was a pretty simple trick. She tapped the sides and bottom of the pot, positioned one hand so that is was right on top of the dirt with the leaves poking between her fingers, then tipped the pot so the mandrake slid out dirt and all. She quickly stuck the mandrake in a new pot, and covered it with dirt, not noticing Professor Sprout staring at her.
At the end of class Professor Sprout pulled Bree aside. "Where did you learn that trick you used to repot the mandrakes?" she asked. Bree was confused for a minute, then she realized what Sprout was talking about. "Oh that! My Mom show me that. It's better for the plant than just yanking on them, and it's easier too. You just got to loosen up the dirt and they slide right out." she explained.
"Ten points to Gryffindor." Sprout stated before letting Bree go on to her next class.
Bree next class was Transfiguration. The lesson was turning a beetle into a button. Bree saw this to be a completely useless exercise. What was the practical application of turning a beetle into a button? And if she ever did have a button emergency, where would she get a beetle? Wouldn't it be easier to use something that didn't run from you, like a pebble or a bottle cap? Needless to say by the time class was over, McGonagall was quite frustrated.
After lunch Bree wandered over to the courtyard. As soon as she got there she heard Lockhart say "What's all this, what's all this? Who's giving out signed photos?" Seeing Draco nearby Bree quickly answered, "Malfoy is."
"Malfoy?" Lockhart questioned.
Bree nodded. "See I have one right here." she said pulling a photo of Malfoy in a dress out to show him. Lockhart took it from her and examined it. "Cross-dressing Draco? Now I can understand the need to explore your feminine side but if your father found out about this…" Draco looked mortified as Lockhart lectured him about "The pitfalls of cross-dressing." Bree smirked.
"Why," Ron began, "are you carrying around a picture of Draco in a dress?"
"It amuses me." Bree explained before turning her attention to a small blond boy with a camera. "Shoo. Get a life you little stalkarazzi wannabe." she said to Colin. The boy quickly scurried off. Bree turned to Harry. "You shouldn't encourage him. First it's a photo-op, then the next thing you know they're going through your trash." she warned before heading to her next class, which was, unfortunately, Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Bree sat in the very back of the class, as close to the door as she could be. She took out her copy of Voyages with Vampires, which was the only book of Lockhart's she had bought, and waited for the rest of the class to arrive.
When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom's copy of Travels with Trolls, and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.
"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well.
"Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force
Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!" He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.
"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books. Well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about, just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in."
When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes. Start now!"
Bree looked down at her paper and read:
1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?
"Who cares?" Bree wrote.
2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?
Bree scribbled down "To be the most famous person ever."
3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?
Bree smirked. "Not getting exposed as an incompetent moron."
On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to:
54. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?
"I don't know, or care, and more fame." Bree wrote.
Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.
"Tut, tut, hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti. And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully. I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples, though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogdeds Old Firewhisky!"
He gave them another roguish wink. Ron was now staring at Lockhart with an expression of disbelief on his face; Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were sitting in front, were shaking with silent laughter. Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to Lockhart with rapt attention and gave a start when he mentioned her name.
"… but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions. Good girl! In fact" he flipped her paper over "full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"
Hermione raised a trembling hand.
"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so to business."
He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.
"Now, be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."
"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."
As the whole class, minus Bree who was watching the whole affair with a rather bored expression, held its breath. Lockhart whipped off the cover.
"Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies."
It was rather anticlimactic.
Seamus Finnigan couldn't control himself. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn't mistake for a scream of terror.
"Yes?" He smiled at Seamus.
"Well, they're not — they're not very —dangerous, are they?" Seamus choked.
"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"
The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.
"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let's see what you make of them!" And he opened the cage.
Bree quickly grabbed her things and left the classroom as the pixies began zooming around.
That evening, a little bit before dinner, Bree snuck into Lockhart's room, found his trunk, and dumped a cage full of stunned pixies into it.
431. Not allowed to fill Lockhart's trunk with Cornish Pixies.
She then went down to dinner, where the twins, seeing the pleased and slightly vindictive look on her face, kept asking her what she had done. Bree didn't tell them, and hours later Lockhart's screams could be heard throughout the castle.
Ever notice how most wizards seem to lack common sense. If the plants that can knock you out by crying don't want to come out of the dirt, then leave them in it for crying out loud! Oh, and the sitter's name will be Chloe, thanks to InsaneGummiBears for that. But she still needs a physical description, and probably a last name. Any ideas?
Review please.
