Walking To The Stairwell On The Seventh Floor.

Friday is upon us.

This morning, before I went down to The Great Hall, I went up two flights, and cornered Professor Flitwick in front of his office on the seventh floor; with the Ostensible Purpose of asking him about whether possible if I could leave my Potions Homework with him until such a time that it was needed—but with the Secret Desire of finding out whether he would accompany me to Hogsmeade to purchase my broom before Quidditch try-outs.

Professor Flitwick happily allowed The First, and was very reticent about The Second. Until, however, I started talking about being preyed upon by the whims of others; then he shuffled guiltily and was all ears. He has given me permission to go to Hogsmeade with him today after classes let out. As a result, I doubt I will have to see Black this afternoon at all. I will be Too Busy, and also Away From The Grounds, so how can Black even find me to take the mickey?

Sighing (Sighing With Love, because I love Professor Flitwick!). Flitwick is a Very Good Man. He Receives An Outstanding.

Now, if I can just sneak down to The Great Hall without any mishap, I know for sure Black will not corner me at my seat.

That is not his style. Black's style is to sit with his friends and barely pay me any attention. True, over the past week, Sirius Black has been changing, gradually growing more obtuse and strange, but after our "truce" was shaken on yesterday, I do not see why Black cannot simply go back to being regular and dismissive with me. He is just That Kind Of Boy.

Here is my day up ahead: I have Defense at 0830, then Potions at 1000; this one due to Sluggy being sick the previous morning and unable to teach. At 1200 is my Lunch, and then at, or before, 1240, Lucille, Camilla, and I are going down to The Charms Corridor for a double class of Advanced Charms. After that, my day is Free.

Free to go to Hogsmeade. Free to purchase a broom. Free to continue defying my parents.

Glorious!

"Raisin! What are you doing up here at this hour?"

I jumped, frankly scared. "I was just visiting Professor Flitwick," I replied, turning around like a guilty mouse, and attempting what can be considered a smile. Black had literally appeared out of nowhere.

I willed my heart to come back down. In his hand, Black was fiddling with a giant piece of black fabric, trying to put it into his pocket and out of sight. "What is that you have in your hand?" I said. Whatever it was, it was clearly way too large to fit into as small a space as Black's pocket, so I didn't know how Black thought this avenue would yield any results; but I was intensely curious.

"What?"

I pointed. "That," I said. "You have something in your hand. What is it?"

"Oh, this?" Black fingered the liquid-y cloth, ostentatiously letting it droop all over himself. Apparently remembering he had an audience a second later, he went back to trying to put it away. "Nothing! No concern for you at any rate."

"Thank you."

Black must have decided it was a good idea then to hurry me along. Compelled by his quickness, I complied.

"All I mean," said Black, "is that it's a boring piece of fabric. See?" He held it up, still walking. "Nothing to get excited over, Raisin!"

"But what if I wanted to get excited over it?"

Black shrugged. "That's your prerogative, but trust me, it's nothing."

"What does it do?" I wondered.

"It sits in my hands."

"Black!" I whined, feeling Very Obnoxious even with the patient smile Black was forcing onto his face. Black's Face Never Wore Patient Well: he was the obnoxious one, not me. "What does it do?"

"I can't tell you," Black said. "It's not mine. Not my secret."

"But you know it!" I looked closer. Oh, Merlin. "That's an Invisibility Cloak!" I cried. "What are you doing with an Invisibility Cloak?! Give it here! Do you know that these aren't allowed? You could get in big trouble, Black! Big trouble! Do you know what Big Trouble is?"

"What?" Black said, Wholly Confused.

"I said, give it here, you daft man! You shouldn't be lugging something this valuable around in broad daylight for all to see."

"We're on the seventh floor!" Black said, though he straightened his back, and glanced around with mounting paranoia. "I don't think anyone but you or me—."

"Isn't your Common Room right around the corner?" At Black's nod, I continued, "Well then, of course someone other than you or I is going to see you holding it out! This is Not Good Secret-Keeping Management, Black!" I reached my hand out, hoping to snatch it away, and possibly have some private time with it myself, we'll be honest. Black slapped my hand! "Ow! What? Black, I am trying to help you! Give it here! I'll put it in my bag."

Black backed away, cradling The Invisibility Cloak like it was his firstborn; looking ridiculous. "No," he told me. "You can't have it! It's mine!"

"I thought you said that you were keeping it for a friend!"

"Well, I am, and so, it's not yours!"

"I know that, Black." I was trying to be the patient one now and wheedle the cloak to me. "But I think it will be better off with me, don't you?"

"No, I do not! It's mine!"

I sighed. "Black, we've established it's not even yours."

Looking more paranoid by the second, Black backed away farther. It was not until then that I realized Pushiness had its good points. "You're not getting it! It's dangerous. It's not meant for you!"

"Blaa-ack!" I crooned, sidling closer. "Please, hand it over. You wouldn't want me telling a professor about this, would you?" Black shook his head rapidly. "I doubt it's on The List Of School-Allowed Items."

"It's not," Black responded, probably unthinkingly, as was habit. "So you can't tell anyone! You have to promise me, Raisin!"

"Why did you use it on me in the first place if you didn't want me telling anyone? You know what I think? I think you wanted me in on the Secret."

"I didn't!" Black denied. "I didn't! I thought we were friends."

"Blaa-ack," I said, again reaching out a hand and gesturing. "We are. Give it over."

"No!" With that, Black, looking absolutely Overcome by my stalking of him, ran from me down The Hallway; presumably back to Gryffindor Tower to put away the bit of fabric in evidence.

I smiled.

"Nice," I congratulated myself. Oh, what fun.

Potions Classroom.

"Lucille!" I whispered in urgency, as soon as we both sat down together. Due to Black Watching Me Like A Hawk all throughout Breakfast and following me to Defense then to The Entrance To The Dungeons, I had not felt able to Really Talk To Anyone until now. "I have to tell you something!"

"You couldn't have told me during Breakfast or DADA or while walking here?"

"No!" I said. "I couldn't. But I'm telling you now, so listen!"

"We have class now, Evelyn," Lucille said, somewhat disapprovingly. She smiled at Marly Harold from Hufflepuff, then turned back to the Important Chore of getting out her cauldron and setting up her other potions supplies. "Can it not wait for after?"

"It can't. It's really important."

Lucille leaned closer. "Is it about Black?" she said, almost unintelligibly.

"Yes."

"Well, what is it?"

"Not here," I said, with a meek look, because Professor Slughorn had finally walked into the room—Talking About Anything Other Than Potions wasn't safe now, you see; my reticence had nothing to do with being an arse-kisser.

"But now you have me interested!" Lucille complained. I gestured at Sluggy. "Fine!" said Lucille. "You better tell me soon!"

"Oh, I will!"

"Miss Ransom, could you stand up, please?" Professor Slughorn asked, smiling happily, looking grandfatherly.

I swallowed nervously. "Yes, sir."

"Excellent! You're presenting first, after all!" Slughorn gestured me to the front of the room. "On Monday, I asked you to do a Further-Study Assignment on Bicorn Parts. Would you like to tell the class about your findings?"

Absolutely not. "Of course, sir! Would like nothing better!" Knowing I was the subject of many gazes, and not liking it one bit, because I never do, I had to Actively Work at not stare at anyone specific. Otherwise, I would Monumentally Cock Everything Up. "Is there a place you would like for me to start?"

"Did you…that is to say…no, I probably shouldn't hope…"

"Sir?"

"Did you, by chance, Miss Ransom, begin The Polyjuice with Mr. Snape?"

"I did," I said with some pride. "I'm sorry I didn't bring it with me, Professor. Professor Flitwick said he would leave it in his office until I could talk to you about it since it's so valuable. But I have notes! And if you have a Pensieve—."

"Quite alright! Quite alright!" Professor Slughorn interrupted me jovially. "Just bring it along when you have the chance. I'm very fond of Professor Flitwick, however, I would be more comfortable knowing I could keep an eye on it!"

"But I thought it was my joint project," I said in some confusion and apparent bratiness, while several students laughed.

"Oh, that's right! Well, this does put a dilemma on things, does it not?"

"Sir?"

"Oh, nevermind! Forget I said anything, please. I don't want to give the ghost away, do I?" He gestured at me. "The floor is yours."

"Oh. Well. Isn't that fantastic. Thank you, sir."

Merlin, did I Abhor Making Speeches.

Somewhere Still On Hogwarts Grounds.

"Cold, dear?" Professor Flitwick asked, staring up, up, up, into my gray eyes.

"Yes, sir."

"Allow me, then!"

Flitwick swept his wand in a wide arc, and instantly I felt warmer. I would have affected a charm myself since it was so very cold out (I had actually, right before the Professor and I had exited the doors) but Flitwick's happened to be more powerful so of course I let him. Anyway, this is my Head Of House and I trudging through the Grounds, going for the gate of the property so Flitwick can Apparate us into Dervish and Banges. Why we can't just floo there is beyond me. I am wondering if Professor Flitwick is just all sorts of odd and desires a long walk.

Classes let out about ten minutes ago. I was wrong earlier in my Hypothesis that Black would leave me alone for the rest of the day. He has not.

Ha! He and his Big-Head Friend Potter and His Pervy Friend Lupin and His…His Other Friend Pettigrew followed my friends and I to Lunch, and then to The Ravenclaw Table at Lunch, and then to our Charms Classroom afterward. I cannot shake them. They are like Cancer; they metastasize everywhere. Any of them. All of them. They're all disgusting. Added on to The Looks Black has been giving me all week are now Warning Glares from Potter, and Nervous, Questioning Glances from Lupin. I am not sure I can cope with all of this negative attention.

I'm pretty certain Black told Potter about The Invisibility Cloak Dilemma. I am pretty certain that The Invisibility Cloak Dilemma can originate with Potter, because if it can't be Black who owns the Cloak, then it has to be Potter, and if this is true, then I am fucked. I'll have to watch my step. I have long believed Lily Evans Was In The Right about Hating Potter. He is way too arrogant to not have ties to the British Mafia. His parents probably call him Little Jimmy and affix family insignias to his person in tattoo-form before he leaves for school.

"Thank you, professor." I hid my unease and beamed down at the small goblin-like man, my thoughts brought back to present. "You are so very kind, sir! Did you know you're my favorite?"

Professor Flitwick giggled. "Am I, dear? How nice of you to say that! I thank you!"

I nodded. "You indeed are. Charms is just about my favorite class. I also really appreciate what you're doing for me, sir. With the potion and especially this. I really want a broom, and I know you don't have an obligation to get me one—."

"Well, you're welcome, Miss Ransom!" said the professor, cutting me off. "Tell me, how are things with young Mr. Black progressing? I heard that he received an Acceptable on his exam the other day. Congratulations, I say to you! I hope you're proud of your hard work!"

I shrugged. "Black can do better," I said, feeling Mean. At Professor Flitwick's surprised look, I re-phrased: "Not that Acceptable isn't good, sir! It is! Oh, it is! Especially considering what Black was working with before. To think on it, however, I don't understand how he achieved an Exceeds on his OWL in 5th year. He strikes me as the sort of person who would just as soon not take this class at all."

Flitwick hummed sympathetically. "Not making as much headway as you hoped, Miss Ransom?"

"Not quickly enough, no, sir. I mean, I know he doesn't like the class, but I thought that that just had to do with our professor! No offense meant to Your Kind, sir, but Professor Binns doesn't exactly go out of his way to make History interesting for other people. It's the number one reason a lot of students are doing so poorly in his classes."

"Hmm."

I continued, feeling impassioned, "I would have dropped his class long ago if I didn't like the subject material so much."

"Goblin Rebellions are interesting!" Flitwick said.

"Yes, they are, sir. So, I would like to thank you, once again, for taking time out of your busy schedule to take me down here. You haven't even seen me fly yet, sir. You're taking a big chance. I could be a big wash-up, you know."

"Oh I doubt you'll be a wash-up, Miss Ransom!" said Flitwick. "After all, in the end, the decision is up to Mr. Barbary whether you make The Team or not. Though I think you will." I smiled, eager to hear more Compliments, because I knew I needed them today. "If the amount of effort you put in your studies is anything to go by, then I have every belief that you will be a very great asset to the team this year."

I didn't entirely understand the professor; before this year started, and I had to set a good example for Black, lest he get ideas, I put almost zero amount of effort into my studies. "What do you mean, sir?"

"Well, dear, I simply mean that you're a hard worker!" Discretely as possible, I snorted. Flitwick glanced at me for a moment, but continued. "Quidditch requires just the same amount—maybe more!—of dedication! If you have the inner drive to be Top Of Your Year, when around you are some very gifted students working to compete and surpass you, then I do not see why we won't be seeing Great Things from you in Quidditch this year as well!"

"Thank you! That's very nice of you, sir. But I doubt I'm that good."

"We will see, won' t we?"

I gave a faux-long suffering sigh. "You're putting all sorts of pressure on me, sir. I don't know if I'll be able to handle it."

Dervish and Banges.

One of the problems with Doing Things On The Sly From Your Parents is that usually, unfortunately, they require Money that you simply do not have. This is one of these times.

To explain, perhaps I should get a bit wordy. I know you think I am rich. You would be wrong. I am not rich. My parents are rich. And perhaps my lucky older sister. But certainly not me. Like most Purebloods from Old Families, I have a Trust Fund, but Trust Funds do not mean anything if you are under the age of twenty-five; as I certainly am. Trust Funds are all well and good when you are buying school supplies like books and Potions ingredients during summer term. They are all well and good when what you want naturally falls under their stipulations. They are all well and good when your parents Don't Rightly Care what you buy. Big purchases such as brooms, on the other hand, will immediately raise a Red Flag.

I might, in fact, even Need Signed Permission (or have a parent with me) to complete such a transaction; which is why I have been trying to save my money so assiduously over the summer and haven't informed any adult who has a say over my finances. It has worked for the most part. New brooms are quite steep in their prices, so I am going to have to search diligently until I find a match well suited, but I think I can do it. I have about one hundred galleons on me; I hope I can do it. I will be Very Disappointed Indeed if I cannot.

Immediately, once we got inside Dervish and Banges, I started looking around. It was a small shop, not really a Good Host for brooms; but then it was the only one of its kind remotely involved in the selling of practical magical items; and on such short notice, and without the option of going to Diagon Alley, it was all I really had… Unless I wanted to Owl-Order a broom in, and I did not.

(Edit: Note to Readers: Owl-Ordering Anything In is Impossible to hide from parents, since the order Immediately charges the money to your vault—similar to a Muggle Crediting Card, I've been told—and guardians invariably end up receiving a note from their manager at Gringotts'. Great Shame, this Probably also causes Great Shame.)

"What broom model are we looking for?" asked Professor Flitwick, walking beside me, and glancing in interest at all the various things the store had in stock.

"I'm not sure, sir. I've read about the Nimbus Line. Apparently they deal in speed. If I'm going to be a Chaser, speed is an important thing to have, but I also would like good maneuverability. Switching directions quickly mid-turn, for instance, is a quality I would like to look into. The Cleansweeps don't cut it for that, in my opinion. Even though they're rumored to. I also," here I blushed somewhat, because it was embarrassing to admit, "can't spend a whole lot of money. But I do want a new broom, so used ones are out."

"I see," said Professor Flitwick. "Well, perhaps it would behoove us to ask this nice gentleman over here? Excuse me, sir?" A slender, rat-faced man with eyes at odds with his face—for they were very big—came over to us, and bowed.

"How may I help you, Professor? Hogwarts' business today, is it? You might be interested to learn that I just received a shipment in of firewor—."

Professor Flitwick stepped in. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Dervish, but unfortunately, Miss Ransom and I are on a Time Constraint and need to get back to Hogwarts as soon as possible. Miss Ransom just came to purchase a broom. I am merely here for decoration, if you will."

"A fine ornament," the shopkeeper replied.

Flitwick giggled. "How kind you are, sir! If you could help my student find a broom to her liking, we would be most obliged."

"Yes," I said, smiling hopefully, trying to look economical, yet important. "Please, show me what you have in stock, Mr. Dervish."

Ravenclaw 6th year Girls' Dorm Room.

Just got back from Secret Errand With Flitwick. Am now carefully placing Secret Package discretely under bed. Flitwick did me an incredible favor by adding his own version to the Notice-Me-Not Charm: now I am sure my roommates will have trouble seeing even the bed I am sleeping on.

Success! All is well, and things are turning Right With The World. I've had a pretty shit couple days so far, so this little expenditure was Very Much Needed. Amazing what a bout of Forbidden Shopping will accomplish for the soul. I feel like I have just been on espionage for the Muggle MI5.

I purchased a Nimbus 1001. Not the Top Model, certainly, but definitely up there. Definitely better than that Crap Shooting Star Mr. Dervish kept on trying to press on me. I am not that poor, Mr. Dervish! My God.

Lucille's voice keeps on ringing up the stairs. Ringing In My Ears. She is ever loud. Someone needs to take her aside and tell her she sounds like a fishwife. I am late for Dinner apparently, and must join her. I don't want to go. I am not hungry at all. What I want to do is take this broom from under my bed and sneak outside and fly around The Pitch until all thoughts of Black and Potter and what they might do to me (when their forces are combined as they are so frequently) are knocked out of my head.

"Evelyn!"

"I am coming, you, nasty witch!"

Sigh.

"Oh, lovey!" I fingered my bedspread in lieu of reaching for my brown-paper-wrapped broom. "Mama must go for now!" My bedspread seemed to give me a Pleading Look. "I can't stay," I said. "I want to but I can't. Lucille may be shorter and slimmer but she has A Fire Inside that I lack. I am weak. I'm so sorry."

"Evelyn Ransom, you come down right now! We are all waiting for you and you're being very rude!"

I sighed again. "I wish I could bring you. Alas, that I cannot!"

With one last anxious parting look, I left the room. Onward to my Annoyance…es. Annoyances. There are many of them after all.