Part 6 - Just Not My Day...
"IZZY!! Get up! You're going to be late!"
"That won't work! You've got to poke her!"
"I don't want to poke her! She gets all freaked out!"
"Well, do something! She's going to miss breakfast!"
Isabel Cooper can sleep through just about any kind of noise there is. Annoying, loud, shrill, right-next-to-her-ears, none bothers her. It probably has something to do with having to sleep through the wild parties her brother and his friends used to throw.
Nevertheless, a simple tap will always send her bolting back into consciousness. After nearly four years at school together, her dorm mates know this.
"AHHHH!!" The petite fourteen-year-old shrieks, flailing about wildly and managing to get hopelessly tangled in her blankets as she falls out of her bed. Her slim body barely makes a sound as it hits the ground.
Breathing heavily, she whips her head around, trying to take in her surroundings. Despite having lived in the same room for the past three-and-a-half years, she still sometimes wakes up thinking she's in the old abandoned building, sleeping on the floor, her brother snoring close by. It's a comforting fantasy, but one she always emerges from feeling empty, and homesick.
"Sorry, Iz," A girl with a sweet, heart-shaped face and strawberry-blond pigtails coos kindly over the side of the bed, "But you slept through the alarm again, and Myron's getting pissy."
"Oh, thanks, Marie," Izzy replies, still trying to get her breathing even, "I-I'll be right down."
The girl, Marie Walters, smiles brightly at her friend, "Alright. Just don't be too long. I think he might've really hurt himself the last time he tried to climb up here when you were running late." She giggles at the memory of the curly-haired youth going arse-over-ears down the slide and landing on his head at the bottom.
"Ah, he wasn't hurt," Another girl comments as she takes the opportunity to come running across the room and hurl herself onto Izzy's bed, nearly making the mattress slide off the frame, "Not seriously, anyways." With a laugh, Daisy Hailen flips the assorted braids in her short black hair out of her caramel-colored face and adds, "And it was pretty hilarious to watch him fall like that."
Breaking into a small grin despite her best efforts not to laugh at her friend's misfortune, Izzy slowly untangles herself from the heavy red blankets and gets to her feet, "Go ahead without me. Just tell him I'll be right down."
"Sure thing," Marie chimes, grabbing Daisy off the bed and dragging her out of the room. Daisy laughs, yelling back, "Oh, and Lark wanted to know, are you still on to help us study for Transfiguration later tonight?" Smiling over her shoulder as she makes her way into the bathroom, Izzy answers, "Of course. Tell her she might have a better chance of learning something this time if she actually brings her book."
xxXxx
Four years at Hogwarts have done wonders for Isabel Cooper. She rediscovers this every morning when she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror.
Even though she's still extremely skinny and small for her age (a fact that is exacerbated by the fact that she's a much younger than all her year mates), she's definitely in better shape than she was when she first arrived at the school.
Though her ribs and hip bones jut sharply from her body, she's no longer quite as skeletal as she was, something she attributes solely to Myron Wallace. That boy is stubborn as all hell, and has been eating every single meal of the school year with her since that very first dinner she ran out of. She knows that if it hadn't been for him insistently prodding her about her eating habits, practically forcing food down her throat on more than one occasion, that she would have most definitely remained in the same destructive pattern she was in.
Frequent eating and the beginnings of puberty have given her a long, lanky body, and soft curves on her hips and chest, even though she tries desperately to hide both beneath her baggy school robes.
Her wild amber curls haven't been cut in ages, and when they're left loose reach to just below the soft curve where her spine becomes her bum. Most days, she pulls them into an easy to manage braid. She's gotten quite good at it, and her dorm mates often ask her to plait their hair for them. She is more than happy to oblige because they are her friends. She has lots of friends, and no one was more surprised than her about that.
Yes, Izzy is mostly content with her life, her big brown eyes almost never fail to sparkle with happiness from her round, sun-kissed face. But, as far as she's come from the emaciated, terrified thing she once was, a lot about her is still the same.
She's still unbearably shy around people she doesn't know. Making friends was a very long process, and didn't just happen overnight. In fact, it was almost the end of her second year before she felt really comfortable talking to anyone.
She still can't bear to be touched, an eccentricity that all her friends have come to accept, and, more importantly, respect. The fleeting, accidental, sorry-Iz-just-forgot touches ceased a very long time ago, and she is grateful for that. No one knows why she is the way she is, since she hasn't told a soul anything about her past. As much as she knows that she should try to get over what happened to her, she just can't.
Sometimes, she has nightmares, terrifying memories of hands all over her, of sickly peppermint breath choking her senses, of stabbing pains between her legs, making her feel like her body is tearing in half and fire is shooting through her spine while a gruff voice whispers obscenities that could almost be tender and loving...
"IZ!!" Pounding on the door makes her shake herself out of her thoughts. "Coming!" She calls sweetly, finishing off the braid in her hair with a pretty red ribbon. She gives herself one final look in the mirror, smiling brightly when it remarks, "Lovely, sweetheart, as always."
"Thank you very much," She replies with a slight, disbelieving blush before concealing her slender body in an over-sized robe, and skittering out of the bathroom.
xxXxx
Yori Archer, a former Hogwarts head boy, is halfway through his first year as a professor at the school. He is a fantastic Charms teacher, and his class happens to be almost everyone's favorite. He really, really loves his job.
"Amos, Margo," He reads from the roll sheet, lifting his head just in time to see the tall brunette in the back of the room throw her hand into the air and shout energetically, "HERE! RIGHT HERE!"
He chuckles, commenting with a sideways smirk, "Been swiping espresso off the staff table again, eh, Margo?" The Slytherin's green eyes sparkle with mischief, and she tries not to twitch in her seat as she innocently replies, "Why, of course not, Professor. Whatever gave you that idea?" Slight snickers come from throughout the room, and Yori laughs, shaking his head as he goes back to checking his attendance.
"Beckett, Geneva," He announces. After a brief pause, a prim looking girl with short auburn hair and too much make up on delicately raises her hand, calling, "Present." He gives the girl a curt nod. She's a pure-blood, and a Slytherin, and it's best to just humor her formalities.
"Catton, Anatole," Yori continues, not even skipping a beat when he looks up and discovers the blonde boy already asleep at the back of the room, his head on the desk, his mouth wide open, and a puddle of drool forming on the tabletop. The young man is a genius, and will probably never have any trouble in school no matter how many classes he sleeps through, but it's the principle of the matter. With an aggravated groan, Yori commands, "Somebody wake him up. Margo, you can give him some of your coffee, ya?"
She giggles evilly at the Ravenclaw seated next to her, a million fun ideas for 'waking' the boy already running through her head, "Sure thing." With a smirk, Yori goes back to the attendance sheet, pretending not to hear the hysterical snickers at the back of the room while Margo goes to work, 'Maybe this will teach him to stop sleeping in my class...'
"Cooper, Isabel," He says, not bothering to look and expecting Izzy's usual shy 'here.' But, after a few seconds, when he hears nothing, he picks his head up, and gazes around the room. The petite girl is nowhere to be seen, and that is definitely not like her. "Izzy?" He calls again, thinking that maybe she's hiding behind another student. Still nothing, and he asks the class, "Has anyone seen Izzy?"
"The little brat's probably out planning a jewel heist," Charlie Weasley teases loudly from his seat in the front row. He never has forgiven Izzy for stealing his wand, and takes every available opportunity to berate the poor girl. Immediately, Daisy kicks him in the back, making him yelp as he spins in his seat to glare venomously at her. She grins mockingly, and answers with a one-finger salute.
"None of that," Yori scolds, still unable to keep from smiling and winking at Daisy. His duty as the teacher is to reprimand her for her actions, but he secretly thinks Charlie rather had that coming.
After he marks Izzy absent, something he is reluctant to do since her attendance has been utterly perfect since she first started at school, he continues down his list, "Deacon, Elias."
"Right here, sir," The small brunette Hufflepuff chimes brightly, waving his hand over his head. Yori smiles at his enthusiasm.
"Eyret, Cale," He continues, rolling his eyes when he hears a blunt reply of, "Yeah." Yori looks up, glaring when he sees Cale lounging lazily at the back of the room, his feet propped up on the empty desk beside him. The boy doesn't even seem to notice, his arms folded behind his head of shortly cropped blonde hair while he stares off into space. It's a well-known fact that he's a moody boy who is almost perpetually out of sorts, possessing the worst attitude in his whole year, maybe even the entire school. His personality is not exactly surprising, considering that he's a Slytherin, but it's still quite irritating.
"What's wrong with you?" Yori scolds, "Put your feet down, Cale. This is a classroom." Grumbling under his breath, the blonde does as he's told, but definitely not willingly.
Satisfied, Yori continues, "Hailen, Daisy. Already saw you." He pauses to grin at the odd girl seated behind Charlie Weasley, and then girl grins right back, giving a slightly sarcastic thumbs-up. He notes with amusement that her hair-do is lopsided, her neon makeup is standing out starkly from her dark skin, her nose, lip, and eyebrow piercings are glinting in the light, and her strange arm warmers are mismatched, one rainbow striped, and the other sporting black and white polka dots. He chuckles, as it's fairly typical for her.
The next name is "Harper, Virgil," and the hazel-eyed Gryffindor seated in the front corner desk, nearest to the door, answers, "Here." The boy then leans across the empty desk that separates him from Charlie Weasley, pushing his dark hair out of his face as he whispers something to his redheaded friend, presumably asking where the third member of their group is.
"Jabir, Ahmad," The professor reads, just in time for the dark skinned boy in question to rush into the room late, tripping over his too-big feet with a loud, "OUCH!" that Yori takes as his affirmation of attendance. Struggling to keep his books inside a satchel that's splitting at the seams (for the fourth time this year), Ahmad takes a seat in the front row between his friends Charlie and Virgil, high-fiving both of his fellow Gryffindors, and Professor Archer, quite used to the behavior by now, continues down the list.
"Lycoris, Logan," He reads, barely pausing for the brainy, black-haired, green-eyed Ravenclaw boy in the front row to answer, "Present," before he goes on, "Murphy, Timothy." Timmy Murphy, a Hufflepuff boy with shaggy, sand-colored hair, and green-blue eyes, calls shyly from his seat towards the middle of the rows of desks, "Here."
"Nolan, Lark," Yori continues, pacing slightly at the front of his classroom as he checks off the names. A tall girl with bright blue eyes and long, straight black hair waves her hand in the air as she answers happily, "Here, Professor!" He smiles at the bubbly Gryffindor. She may be a complete and total ditz, but she's a sweetheart. He shakes his head, and continues down the list, "Peregrine, October."
"Toby," The young Hufflepuff boy with the hawk-like face corrects quietly, his cheeks burning bright red. Yori takes in his hunched shoulders, shaggy black hair that glows almost purple in the light, and his nervous purple eyes. He knows how much courage it must've taken for the normally silent boy to correct him like that. Toby's name is a touchy subject, having been saddled with it by a hippie mother who refuses to call him by his chosen nickname (his full name being October Rain Peregrine).
"I know, Toby," Yori assures him, "Just reading off the list. Don't worry about it." The boy nods, his cheeks getting even redder as he shrinks down into his seat, trying to fade out of sight.
"Roman, Nero," Yori continues, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice and off his features, especially when the coffee-haired Slytherin answers cheekily, "Don't worry everyone, after much deliberation, I have decided to grace you all with my presence on this fine afternoon. Rest easy, and bask in my superhuman aura."
The class laughs, and not even Yori can keep himself from smirking slightly. Nero may be annoying and hyperactive, but he is funny. "That's enough, Roman," Professor Archer warns, locking his eyes on the boy's dark blue ones, trying not to laugh when the boy crosses them and sticks out his tongue, "A simple 'here' will suffice." Nero grins, coolly running a hand through his messy brown hair as he responds, "Noted."
Still chuckling and shaking his head over the antics of his students, Yori goes back to taking attendance, "Tien, Trinh." A heavily accented voice from the back of the room calls, "Here!" Yori pauses to smile at the kind Hufflepuff. She transferred from Vietnam towards the end of last year, and the small girl has been quite a handful ever since. In fact, her hair is still a strange bluish-green from an explosion in the potions lab that she caused. Yori (and most of the other teachers, too, for that matter) has the sneaking suspicion that she caused it on purpose, specifically for the hair...
"Tonks, Nym-" "HERE!!!" Tonks hurriedly and quite short-temperedly interrupts the saying of her first name, as she always does, and some sporadic snickers start up throughout the room. Yori smirks, noting that today the Ravenclaw metamorphamagus is sporting messy, neon orange spikes on the top of her head. "Fine, Tonks," He concedes, "Calm down." Tonks, ever the cheeky little brat, playfully sticks her tongue out at him, much to the amusement of all.
"Walters, Marie," He goes on, trying to rush through the last few names. The vivacious Gryffindor with the strawberry blonde pigtails and clear blue eyes answers brightly, "Here."
"Weasley, Charles. You already made your presence quite known," Yori continues, checking off the sulking redhead from his list before going on, "And, last but not least, York, Julian." He waits patiently for the dotty brunette in the back corner to receive a kick from Margo, knocking him out of his daydreaming with a confused, "Huh?"
"I'll take that as a 'here,'" Yori comments with a smirk, adding quietly to himself, "Physically anyways..." The Hufflepuff barely bats an eye before he goes back to staring at a crack in the stone floor.
"Alright then," Yori says, smiling at his class, "Now that that's out of the way, I suppose we'd better get down to business. Today's lesson is shield charms..."
Just as he's about to launch into his planned lecture, the classroom door opens and Izzy Cooper comes flying in. The girl is still a stick, though granted a much healthier looking stick than when he first met her, and she's struggling frantically beneath her overstuffed satchel and the five or so gigantic texts she's carrying in her spindly arms. She's incredibly brilliant, and a dedicated student, and it's not surprising for anyone to see her weighed down by the thick tomes.
"Sorry, Professor," She pants softly, jogging up to him and handing over a scrap of paper with neat script writing scrawled across it, "My veritaserum had to be bottled or else it would have congealed. I have a note."
"Veritaserum?" Yori questions, sounding impressed as he takes the paper from the little fourth year, reading Snape's account of the very same thing Izzy just told him, "That's a sixth year potion, Iz. What are you doing making that?"
She smiles shyly, tucking back a sun-bleached curl that's fought its way out of her neat braid as she explains very quietly, but still unable to hide her pride and excitement, "Well, I finished everything in the fifth year book last month, so Professor Snape wanted to see if I could be moved up another class. He told me to start with the veritaserum, and, since I was able to do that, I get to join the sixth year class tomorrow. We're starting on the Draught of the Living Death!"
Yori smiles proudly. Any other student with the girl's talent Snape would have merely ignored, and let remain unchallenged in their year appropriate class, but not Izzy. Yori has yet to figure out why the shrewd potion's master has taken such a shine to young Miss Cooper, but he's thankful to know that it's one more class in which she doesn't get picked on.
"You're an amazing little thing," He tells her honestly, "Go on then, take your seat." Trying not to blush, she does just that, deftly avoiding the foot Charlie Weasley always sticks out in an attempt to trip her as she goes for the only open seat in the room, at the very back, right next to Cale Eyret.
Yori's just about to scold the blonde boy for putting his feet back up on the desk, but finds that isn't necessary. As soon as he notices Izzy coming towards him, he moves his feet all on his own. A slight blush creeps over his normally aloof features as he watches her sit. Izzy smiles kindly at him, and he immediately looks away, seeming very embarrassed and uncomfortable. Yori smirks knowingly to himself.
"Ok, so, as I was saying," He announces, gathering the class' attention back to him, "Today's lesson is shield charms. The incantation is protego. Pair up, and we'll give it a whirl, eh?"
The students immediately shuffle about, and fairly soon they're diligently (for the most part) attempting to block spells from their partners. There are the occasional exceptions, of course, such as Nero and Geneva, the Slytherin power couple, making eyes at each other in the back corner, Tonks, Daisy, Trinh, and Margo, the gurus of fashion, gabbing on about hair, and Lark and Elias, both their respective teams' keepers, bickering about quidditch.
But, Yori notes with pleasure as he leans against his desk, there is at least one student who is trying very hard to get the charm to work right, despite the fact that her partner is making her very uncomfortable.
"Cale, um..." Izzy says, trying to get the boy to stop staring and cast a spell for her to block. Her cheeks turn red as his intense brown eyes seem to bore right through her heavy winter clothing, "W-We should get started." The blonde boy nods distractedly and pulls out his wand.
About ten minutes of Izzy performing the charm perfectly and Cale trying desperately and failing to do the same, he gets frustrated and flops back into his seat. "I can't do it," He grumbles, putting his head down as he wallows in self-pity. He's not exactly smart and has always had a difficult time in class. Some time ago, he just stopped trying. Kindly, Izzy sits down beside him, cooing, "Come on, Cale. It's a hard charm. I'm sure you'll get it if you just keep trying. And I... I'll help you." The boy looks up, grinning hopefully, "Really?"
"Of course," She responds, smiling brightly, making his heart skip a beat. Cale has had a crush on Izzy for as long as he can remember. She's so nice, and smart, and pretty, but he's always been too shy to even talk to her. Besides, they're in different, notoriously feuding houses, and he rarely has any reason at all to interact with her. This opportunity is like a dream come true. He can feel his cheeks flushing as he stutters, "T-Thanks."
She smiles, blushing as well, "No big deal. Get up, and I'll show you the right arm motion. I think your problem is you're keeping your wrist too stiff on the follow-through." Izzy stands, mechanically demonstrating the proper motion. She's rewarded with a bright, transparent blue shield streaming from her wand and into place in front of her. She smiles, proud of herself for doing it right. She likes being able to do things right.
She doesn't even notice Cale step up behind her, severely infringing on her personal space. It's not until it's too late does she feel him reaching around her body, closing his hand over her wrist as he asks nervously, "So, I just have to keep my wrist loose? Like yours?"
She's so startled that she shrieks and jumps away from him, unfortunately right into her own charm, which deflects her perfectly. The girl is bounced across the room like a rag doll, colliding hard with Charlie Weasley's back. Both go toppling into a desk, upsetting it as they roll in a kicking, screaming ball of flailing limbs.
"GET OFF ME, YOU BLOODY STUPID COW!!" Charlie shouts, bucking beneath Izzy's slight body while she desperately attempts to squirm away from him. She's severely hindered by her spinning vision and an intense pain in her ribs, not to mention that she's having a slight episode from the feel of another person touching her. "Sorry!" She squeaks, trying to untangle herself from the angry boy and not have an emotional meltdown at the same time.
"Break it up!" Yori commands as he rushes to pull his students apart. Knowing not to touch Izzy, he grabs Charlie by the scuff of his neck and yanks the boy out from under her.
When he's got the hot-tempered Weasley finally calmed down, he turns to see about Izzy. Unfortunately, he finds that she's still on the ground, her expression pained as she clutches at her ribs.
"Are you alright?" He asks softly as he kneels down in front of her. Startled by his voice being so close, she immediately whips her head up, backing away as she wills herself not to cry.
"I'm fi-Ine," She replies, her voice breaking halfway through the lie. If the grotesque snap she felt when she collided with Charlie and the difficulty she is having with breathing are any indication, she is most definitely not fine, but she doesn't want to make a fuss, and she especially doesn't want to be sent to the nurse.
"I think you should go check with Pomfrey," Professor Archer instructs, waving towards the frozen, guilt-stricken blonde in the back as he instructs, "Cale, grab her things and walk her over. I'll write you a pass."
With a wide-eyed nod, he does as he's told, keeping his head down as he walks to the front of the room under venomous glares from Izzy's friends. He could really care less about what they think, but what hurts him the most is that the scared, injured girl won't take the hand he offers to help her stand.
xxXxx
"I'm really sorry," Cale grumbles after seeing Izzy to the hospital wing. She's seated on the cot farthest from the door, waiting patiently despite the obvious pain she's in for Madame Pomfrey to get around to seeing her.
The girl smiles with watery eyes, still cradling her hurt ribs as she says weakly, "Don't worry. It wasn't your fault. I'm the one who jumped into the charm, after all."
Unconvinced, Cale places her bag onto the floor, neatly arranging her stack of books on the table beside the cot as he mumbles, "You don't have to lie."
The two sit in uncomfortable silence for a few moments, each feeling horrible about the pain they inadvertently caused the other. Finally, Izzy says softly, "It was an accident. I just... you startled me. You couldn't have known that's how I was going to react, but now you do, so next time we're partners it won't happen."
Surprised, Cale can't help it when he yelps, "You still want to be partners with me?" Izzy laughs, a bright smile lighting up her whole face before a throb of protest from her ribs replaces it with a look of pain as she replies, "Of course. I did promise to help you with the shield charm."
Cale is grinning like a madman, and blushing because of it. "That sounds great," He manages to get out, fidgeting nervously as he backs away, elated, but wanting to get out of there before he screws anything up, "So, um, I'll see you, Iz. Hope you feel better!" The boy flees, leaving Izzy to wonder about his strange behavior.
Shortly after he's gone, Madame Pomfrey turns up at Izzy's side. "What seems to be the problem, dearie?" She questions kindly, prodding the girl to lie back as she paws at her heavy robes, "Let's have a look."
Izzy flinches, pulling away from the touch as she stutters, "No! Um, can't you just, uh, give me a potion, or something?" The annoyed matron rolls her eyes, "Not until I know what's wrong with you. Come on, you've got nothing to be frightened of. I'm a nurse."
"I just broke some ribs," Izzy insists, still squirming away every time the woman attempts to examine her, even though it's extremely painful to do so, "That's all, so I just need to you to mend the bones, and I'll be fine. You don't need to look or touch me."
The woman huffs, quickly growing impatient, "I am overworked, and underappreciated, and definitely don't need little girls with silly phobias about doctors making my job any more difficult. Please, lie back, lift your robes, and let me examine you."
Shaking uncontrollably, Izzy very slowly complies, hating how vulnerable and exposed she feels as the woman delicately runs her hands on the tender bruise adorning her right side. She bites her lip to keep from crying out the 'no,' 'stop,' 'please,' 'I don't want to' that she keeps screaming in her mind as demons from her past dance close to the surface, threatening to break through the dam she's carefully constructed and maintained since she found out what Uncle Richie did to her.
But then it's over. The woman stops touching her, and she's barely even listening as the nurse rattles off the treatments being prescribed. Izzy is so happy that she's no longer being touched that she doesn't put up any fight at all as a foul tasting potion is shoved down her throat and she drifts off into a blissfully dreamless sleep.
xxXxx
Later, Izzy drifts back into reality to a playful chime of, "Toooooothpiiiiick... Wakie, wakie..."
She smiles. There's only one person who calls her Toothpick, and that person is, "Myron?"
"At your service," He remarks, grinning as he sits down in the large space Izzy's small body has left unused in the cot, "Pomfrey said you could go, and you get to tell me all about what you learned today. I have a feeling it's going to go something like, 'Avoid jumping into own charms.'"
Izzy giggles, noting that her side only aches a little when she does so. Very happy that she's healed, the girl opens her eyes and sits up, beaming at her friend, "Oh, don't tease, My. It was an accident. I can really go?"
The curly-haired sixth year with the lopsided smile gets to his feet, making the tall lankiness he's grown to incredibly apparently as he scoops up Izzy's bag, and reports brightly, "Yup. I bugged the doc so that I could take you to lunch. Silly girl, thought broken bones were gonna get you off the hook."
"I should've known better," She jokes, standing and taking her things from Myron as she lets him lead her out. Myron Wallace has a very odd appearance. His own twin brother, Mac, once remarked that it was similar to that of a clown. Izzy remembers how she giggled as he listed off the obvious features: frizzy, stand-on-end curls, gigantic, goofy smile perpetually on his face, jaunty bounce in his step, and the impression that he's always three seconds away from throwing a pie...
"Damn right!" He declares loudly, bounding happily out the door. Izzy snickers helplessly into her hand as she trails after him towards the Great Hall.
xxXxx
"Darn..." Izzy curses softly, rummaging through her satchel for her Defense Against the Dark Arts homework, a three foot long essay on banshees that she spent hours on. She knows she did the assignment, but can't seem to locate it, and she has the class next after lunch, "Today is just not my day..."
"What's wrong?" Bill Weasley, seated to her left, asks in between bites of his sandwich, "Ribs bothering you?" From the other side of the table, with his mouth full of mince meat pie, Myron commands, "You should go back to the hospital and lie down after lunch. You got thrown across the room, so take it easy for a few days."
"No, no," She dismisses with a wave of her hand as she gathers her things and gets up, "It's not that. I think I might've left my homework in the tower. I just have to go run and get it."
"Hurry, Toothpick!" Myron shouts after her, "You don't have much time before class, and you barely ate anything!!" With a quick nod over her shoulder, the little girl tears from the room.
Unfortunately, she gets rather sidetracked on her way to locating her homework. Logan Lycoris stops her on the staircase between the first and second floors to ask he if he can borrow her History of Magic notes, and then follows her all the way to the third floor, prodding and poking (metaphorically, of course) until she promises to explain them fully to him after dinner. She doesn't really want to; the Ravenclaw is a snob, and a bit of a know-it-all, only bothering to speak with her because he deems her an intellectual equal, but it's the only way to get rid of him.
Then, as she's running down the fourth floor corridor just outside the library, still a long way from Gryffindor tower, she hears her name called, and can't help but stop. It's Mac, the other Wallace twin, which she guesses she should have already known because it's unusual to not find him in the library during his free time. He wants to know if Snape's officially switched her to the sixth year potions class yet, and when he finds out that he has, wants to know if she'll be his lab partner. The olive-skinned boy with the closely cropped curly-hair has been one of her very close friends since he helped her get caught up with the lessons she missed in her first year, and she can't deny him anything. Without a second's hesitation, the answer is a resounding yes. After that, she has to excuse herself and take off running for the tower once again.
But, before she can actually make it, Lark Nolan stops her just outside the Fat Lady's portrait. Her bubbling, ditzy dorm mate can't recall what time Izzy agreed to tutor her and the other girls that night... or even which subject... With a laugh, Izzy reminds her of the time, place, and books she'll need, making the girl write it on her arm, which she's found is the only way to be certain that Lark remembers anything. Lark waves brightly, and bounces away to get in some quidditch practice before her next class, leaving Izzy finally free to find her wayward homework.
The essay is neatly placed on the pile of books she'd been using when she finished it two days ago. After she notes that she has only ten minutes to make class on time, Izzy stuffs it into her bag and races from the room.
But, since nothing seems to be going right today, she is stopped once more, this time by the sounds of stifled sobs coming from inside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom on the second floor. Knowing she'll probably be late for sure now, she gently pushes open the door and steps inside.
"Hello?" She calls cautiously, waving when she sees Myrtle floating cross-legged above the sinks.
"Hello, Izzy," The ghost chimes, smiling and seeming far too amused considering a crying person is in the room. Izzy is very well acquainted with the spirit. She spent a lot of free time with her during her first two years of school when she was still hiding from the world.
Myrtle leans closer to Isabel, whispering, "It's a boy! I was going to kick him out, but he's been so entertaining, whining on and on about how his brother is going to kill him. And he's kind of cute, so I said that if his brother did kill him, he could come and share my toilet."
Myrtle laughs as she floats around the room on her back, tittering cruelly. Izzy scowls, "That's not very nice. Who is it?"
"I don't know," The ghost replies impatiently, "But he has red hair, and glasses, like mine. He's also small, so he's probably just an ickle first year." Once again, Myrtle loses herself in a fit of laughter, but Izzy ignores her because she's guessed who the crying boy must be.
"Percy?" She asks softly, peering in one of the stalls to indeed discover that Percy Weasley is indeed the crying boy. He is sat on top the toilet, his bony knees pulled to his nearly concave chest while he rubs his eyes, smudging his thick glasses with his grubby hands.
He looks up when she says his name, and then back down again, hugging himself tighter, "Hi, Izzy." He knows her since she spends so much time with Bill, and since Charlie will never shut up about how awful she is. Personally, he thinks she's rather nice (and pretty), and likes that she never makes fun of him (like most of the other kids in the school do) for being smart and wanting to follow the rules. Of course, he can't tell his older brothers that. Neither would ever let him hear the end of it.
"What's the matter?" Izzy asks, squatting down in front of him. He sniffles sadly, seeming reluctant. The girl smiles kindly, soothing, "Don't worry, whatever it is, you can tell me."
And that's all it takes, "My brother told me not to touch his things, but he had a book he got for his birthday that I wanted to read, so I was just gonna borrow it, but then I was walking down the hall, and bumped into a Slytherin, and he got mad, and took it away, and said he wasn't gonna give it back, and now my brother's gonna kill me when he finds out!"
It takes a moment for Izzy to sort through the rapid, blubbering reply, but when she does, she inquires softly, "Why don't you just tell a teacher?"
"I can't," He says, clumsily wiping tears off his pale, freckled cheeks, putting greasy streaks on the lenses of his thick glasses, "Then I'll get beat up for tattling."
Izzy thinks hard, biting her lip and winding an escaped curl around her thin index finger. She has a hard time believing that Bill would really kill Percy for what he did. Be a little cross with him, sure, but Bill is level-headed and wouldn't overreact. He doesn't have a temper at all, not like Charlie. But, of course, Percy really is frightened, and she does want to help the boy.
After a few minutes of silence, she knows what she has to do. "Who was the Slytherin who took it?" She asks patiently, gently taking his glasses off his face, cleaning them carefully on the corner of her shirt, and setting them back on his long, freckled little nose. Percy sniffs, then tells her gravely, "Nestor Aubrey."
Izzy winces. Of course it would have to be the biggest, meanest, dumbest student in the entire castle. That's just how her day has been going. The boy is a brute. He should have graduated two years ago, but has been purposely failing end of year exams (or so the rumor goes) so that he can stay on as his house's ruthless beater, helping them stack the team so that they'll finally have a shot at taking the Quidditch Cup from the Gryffindors. Most of the school is absolutely terrified of Nestor, and with good reason. He's always getting involved in skirmishes that end up with the other party spending a few days unconscious. Of course, he never gets in trouble because he's good-looking and popular, and always has his posse of fellow good-looking and popular Slytherins testify that he never laid a hand on anyone.
"After he took the book," Izzy questions seriously, "Did you see where he put it?" Slightly confused as to why it matters, Percy answers, "The inside pocket of his robes." Izzy bites her lip once more, then continues, "Was it the right side, or the left side?" Percy screws up his eyes in concentration, almost making Izzy laugh. It's an adorable look for the little blue-eyed boy.
"I think... the left side," He finally answers. Izzy smiles, "Ok. Now, here's what we're gonna do. You're gonna stop moping and run along to class, and I'm gonna get the book back. I'll have it for you by dinner, ok?"
The young boy's face brightens as he smiles, "Really?" Izzy laughs warmly, "Really. Now, come on. We're both late, so let's hurry."
xxXxx
Because she doesn't have the heart to leave him, Izzy patiently (but briskly) walks with Percy all the way to his Transfiguration class, listening as the boy chatters happily about every little thing. Unfortunately, her act of kindness makes her very late to her own lesson.
"I'm so sorry, Professor," She apologizes as she comes running into Defense Against the Dark Arts ten minutes after the bell's rung. The class has been hell this year because the teacher is none other than former head girl Pamela Burton. The snide blonde still hasn't forgiven Izzy for breaking her nose on the train that first year, and takes every opportunity to torture the girl because of it. Izzy's only solace is the hope that the supposed curse on the DADA position will once again reign true, and there will be a new teacher next year.
"Do you have your homework?" Professor Burton asks shortly, turning to glare with her muddy brown eyes. Still inexplicably frightened of the woman she knows can't really hurt her, Izzy nods, fishes her essay out of her bag, and sets it on the desk. With that done, she turns to find an empty seat.
"Not so fast, Cooper," The Professor sneers, stopping the girl in her tracks with a malicious grin, "Since you're already up here, you can go first."
"Um... Alright," Izzy drawls, looking desperately out over the class for some kind of indication of what she just agreed to. She gets a few sympathetic looks from her friends, but can't ignore the fact that Charlie Weasley, along with his Gryffindor year mates, Virgil Harper and Ahmad Jabir, are snickering cruelly at the back of the room. That is never a good sign...
"Ok, so, as I was saying," The Professor announces, perverse glee all too obvious in her shrill voice and sharp features, "Today's lesson is boggarts. Who can tell me what a boggart is, and what defense spell is used to fight them?"
Izzy's mouth drops, and almost immediately Logan Lycoris, ever the (slightly insufferable) know-it-all, shoots his hand into the air. With a brief nod from the professor in his direction, the raven haired boy explains confidently, "Boggarts are shape-shifters that inhabit dark, enclosed spaces. No one knows what they looks like in their true form because they take on the appearance of the greatest fear of the people who encounter them. The defense spell is Riddikulus."
"Good," Professor Burton quips, taking a few long strides toward the Victorian style dresser beside her desk that's begun to shake ominously.
"P-Professor," Izzy stutters, severely frightened of what is going to come out of that dresser, "Please, I don't want to-"
"Wand out, Cooper!!" The moody professor demands curtly, ignoring the trembling girl's protest and snapping open the dresser.
A dark, inky fog seeps out of the opening, and the room goes completely quiet aside from the ragged breathing that can be hear from within the black depths. Izzy's knuckles are white from how hard she's gripping her wand, her eyes fixed intensely and her whole body on edge. She already knows what's going to come out of there, and desperately doesn't want to confront it.
But then it's right there, the towering, smiling giant from her nightmares. He's tall, with broad shoulders, and an almost angelic baby-face, accented by pale blonde hair, rosy cheeks, and watery gray eyes. Only she knows the twisted evil that lurks behind those eyes.
Uncle Richie grins sweetly as he steps onto solid ground, advancing on her as she reflexively backs away, unable to hear Professor Burton's shouts for her to use the defense spell. It doesn't matter. She can't make herself remember that it's just a boggart, and she's as helpless as she was when she was a child. She's at his mercy yet again.
"My pretty, little Isabel," He coos, his perfect white teeth beaming at her from inside his mouth as he clenches and unclenches his fists, staring at her with that fierce look that always meant she was about to be held down and...
"AHHHHHH!!!!" She screams, getting tripped by snickering Charlie Weasley as she continues to back away down the aisle. Barely, she regains her footing, only to find that she has her back up against the wall, nowhere to go as Uncle Richie closes in, his expression feral. She closes her eyes and shields her face behind her hands, trembling and seconds away from bursting into tears.
But then it's over. Izzy feels a woosh of magic around her, and the room goes silent. It takes quite a few deep, calming breaths before she can finally force herself to open her eyes.
"Sit down, Cooper," Professor Burton sneers, grinning cruelly, "You're pathetic."
Izzy stumbles to an empty desk and sinks into it, hugging herself as she puts her head down. She can't stop shaking, and she knows that she really is pathetic.
xxXxx
"IZZY!!! WAIT!!!"
"STOP!!!"
"ISABEL MORGAN COOPER!!! YOU HALT THAT SKINNY ARSE OF YOURS RIGHT THIS INSTANT!!"
With a defeated groan, Izzy abandons her frantic run down the hallway. She was a zombie for the remainder of class, and as soon as the bell rang she bolted. She just wants to be alone, but her friends don't seem to want to let that happen.
"Izzy, are you alright?" Tonks asks as she leads the small brigade of girls over. Weakly, Izzy smiles, "Ya, I'm fine. I just need to... go, um... somewhere..."
"Are you sure?" Marie presses quietly, terribly worried for her friend, "Burton was so mean to you today."
Izzy waves her off, trying to seem unaffected as she answers, "No worse than usual. Guys, I'm fine, and I really do have to go."
"That bitch should be fired!!" Daisy rages, her pretty face twisted in disgust. Margo jumps in, adding just as angrily, "She can't just do that to you, forcing you like that!! You said you didn't want to!!"
"Yes," Trinh vehemently agrees in her slightly broken English, "She is bad woman!! Make me much angry!!"
Izzy sighs as her friends continue their tirade. She loves them all, but sometimes they just don't understand. Professor Burton is mean, sure, but it's not her fault that Izzy is pathetic...
She catches sight of Nestor Aubrey walking down the hallway, and he makes her forget her self pity. The boy, or rather man, considering that he's nearly twenty by now, is tall, with broad shoulders, and a thick neck. He is also very handsome, possessing chiseled features, and a dense mane of black hair on the top of his mostly empty head. She remembers the promise she made to Percy, and immediately begins walking towards Nestor, ignoring her friends as they follow in her wake and continue to bash the DADA professor.
Calling up the skills she hasn't used in years, instinctively knowing that they haven't, won't ever leave her, Izzy purposely runs right into the giant, flinching, but still managing to grab the book from the inside of his robes as he shoves her to the ground.
"Watch where you're going, Mudblood!" Nestor spits, staring Izzy down as his friends cackle over the little girl's frightened expression.
"HEY!" Daisy shouts, stepping bravely forward with Tonks on one side, and Margo on the other, "Don't talk to her like that, you stupid thug!!"
Izzy's eyes go wide. This wasn't part of the plan. Her friend's daring makes her barely notice that Marie and Trinh beside her, trying to find some way to help the girl up without actually touching her.
Nestor's assorted friends let out a mocking 'oooOOOooo,' making his mouth twist up into a malevolent grin. "And just who exactly is gonna stop me, little girl?" He drawls, his voice deep and cold.
Daisy, Tonks, and Margo are unflinching, an immovable barrier of courageous, slightly foolhardy little girls. "We are, OAF!" Margo spits, "Don't think I won't get Snape on your arse for this! Izzy happens to be, like, his favorite student!"
"Oooh," Nestor replies sarcastically, "I had no idea I was dealing with Snape's little mudblood pet. By all means then, I'm ever so sorry." He rolls his eyes, shoving Daisy out of his way, plowing right through her, Tonks, and Margo.
He steps over Izzy, purposely smacking her in the head with his book bag as he laughs lowly for only her to hear, "Don't think you've heard the last of me, mudblood. I'll be coming for you."
"YA, THAT'S RIGHT, YOU'D BETTER RUN!!" Tonks shrieks after him and his friends, brandishing a fist for good measure, a violent shade of fuchsia beginning to streak through her orange spikes as she slightly loses control of her powers.
"Are you ok?" Marie asks, drawing Izzy's attention away from the three girls who are having a very loud, heated Nestor-bashing session. Izzy looks over at her kind-hearted friend, picking herself up slowly as she says, "Ya, I'm fine. Let's just get to class."
xxXxx
"Izzy, what is book?" Trinh asks her later as they're walking to the Great Hall together for dinner. The sweet Hufflepuff is the only one of her friends that takes Arithmancy with her, the rest having opted for the much easier choice of Divination. She's also the only one of Izzy's friends that would ask, let alone be interested in what book she was currently perusing.
Smiling brightly, Izzy runs her hands over the pristine, deep red cover of the text she pick-pocketed from Nestor. It's no bigger than the trashy muggle paperbacks Margo is addicted to, but it feels extremely dense, almost heavy enough to be one of the gigantic potions manuals she always has to fetch in order to research the assignments Snape gives her.
"I'm not sure," Izzy answers, "I'm returning it to Percy Weasley. It is curious though. This material it's bound with feels like dragon hide."
"Maybe is dragon hide," Trinh replies, combing delicately through her short, blue-green hair, "What is called?"
"Hmmm..." Izzy hums as she turns the book over to find thick black lettering along the spine, "From Egg to Inferno: A Dragon Keepers' Guide... Well, I suppose it is made from dragon hide. Strange though, it doesn't sound like something Bill would read. He loves fiction, adventure stories, mostly."
"You say book belongs to Percy," Trinh remarks, slightly distracted by turning to blatantly ogle a tall brunette fifth year boy, paying particular attention to his backside, giving a low whistle of appreciation.
Blushing and pretending she doesn't notice what her companion is staring at, Izzy answers, "Yes, well, he told me he borrowed it from his brother." Trinh finally tears her eyes away from the nicely toned bum, giving a slight shrug as she remarks wisely, "Percy have two brothers here. Maybe belongs to other one."
"No, that's not possible," Izzy answers with a frown, once again running her hands over the thick cover of the book, "It can't be Charlie's. Charlie doesn't... read." The ginger-haired seeker may be well-liked, and (to almost everyone but Izzy) quite a sweet, albeit socially-awkward boy, but it's a well-known fact that he's rather slow, barely managing to scrape together high enough grades to remain on the quidditch team.
A slightly uncomfortable silence falls over the pair, broken only when Izzy catches sight of Percy standing nervously in a corner just outside the entrance to the Great Hall. "Oh, there he is," She says to her friend, jogging away as she calls over her shoulder, "Bye, Trinh. I'll be in the library tonight, helping Lark and the others with Transfiguration, so come by if you want to start working on our Arithmancy assignment." The Hufflepuff smiles and waves lightly as she continues into the Hall, "Yes, see you there."
Percy Weasley's frightened features immediately bloom into a happy grin when he sees Izzy walking towards him. Relieved beyond belief, he lets out a shaky breath as he notices that she has his brother's dragon book. He was skeptical at first about how she was going to be able to get it back, but grateful that she seems to have accomplished the task. But, because that's the way both their days have been going so far, just about the only thing that could possibly go wrong at that moment does.
"HEY!!" Charlie Weasley shrieks as he advances on Izzy, snatching the book away from her, "That's mine!!"
"Oh, um," Izzy drawls, backing away as she glances fearfully between Charlie and Percy, "It is?"
The stocky boy in front of her is clearly furious, his face flushed red behind heavy freckles and his fists clenched tightly at his sides, his broad, stubby fingers almost white from the force with which they're being pressed into the cover of the book. He's not much taller than her, but still seems to tower with his anger.
"Yes, it is! There's my name right there inside it!!" He bites back, shaking now as he shoves the open book right into her face. Property of Charles Nicodemus Weasley is indeed scrawled, jagged and almost illegible, on the first, otherwise blank page, and Izzy gulps convulsively.
Charlie has never been very good at controlling his fiery temper, becoming slightly notorious for it when he managed to put his fist through a wall in third year following the news that he wasn't going to be allowed to play in the next quidditch match because his grades had slipped so low. Like then, his rage is taking control of his body and words. "But you already knew that since you stole it from my trunk, you dirty thief!!!" He shrieks, snapping the book shut and stomping closer to Izzy.
She shrinks in on herself, backing away clumsily, terrified, but not willing to rat Percy out, especially since she can see what he meant about his brother killing him. "I-I didn't steal it from you," She insists quietly, not breaking from his intense, icy blue stare.
"A thief and a liar!!" Charlie bites bitterly, eyeing her in disgust, "You're cowardly scum, and I'm never gonna understand why no one else seems to be able to see that!! The sorting hat must've majorly fucked up when it stuck you in Gryffindor!! There's nothing about you that fits with the rest of us, so how the hell did you manage your way in?" With that, Charlie decides that he's going to end up hitting her, a girl, if he stays any longer, so he turns and storms angrily away. His friends, Virgil and Ahmad, chase after the furious boy, desperate to calm him down before he does something he's going to regret.
Sadly, trying not to cry, Izzy watches him go. Today has been too hard, and too emotionally draining, and people are staring at her now, whispering and pointing, and she feels light-headed.
But she takes a deep breath, and turns into the hall, once again forcing herself to pretend she's alright as her spirit crumbles just a little bit more, muttering an answer to Charlie's question under her breath, "Because I have to be brave just to make myself get out of bed every morning."
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hope you guys liked it. reviews will be much appreciated ;)
