Chapter 4: Props & Mayhem (With A Bit Of Humiliation)
Carina was not looking forward to seeing her new professor. She'd only read one of his books, and could already tell it would be a repeat of last year, in which she, Mary, and Hermione had learned from solely from the book (while forcing Ron and Harry as well). The day had almost started comically—but an unexpected letter nearly made Carina scream.
The day had begun ordinarily enough, as Carina sat in their corner of the Gryffindor table (after scaring off the first years that decided to sit there), and waited for her friends to arrive. Hermione was already there, given that her alarm clock woke them all up in the morning.
"You didn't have to scare them," berated a stiff Hermione, scooping jam onto her toast. She was obviously still mad at them for their preferred method of arrival.
"But Moony, how else were they going to leave?" replied Carina, smiling innocently at the group of traumatized eleven year olds who turned away quickly.
"I don't know," Hermione drawled sarcastically. "Maybe asking them nicely?!"
"But where's the fun in that?" smirked Carina.
Hermione was about to make a bitter retort, but Harry, Ron, and Mary joining them saved her from certain death by Moony.
"Morning," said Mary airily, sitting next to Carina.
The boys made inaudible grunts and sat across from them. Ron began pigging out, as usual, and Harry decided on some kippers and toast.
"What kind of sandwich are you making today?" asked Ron, slightly muffled from the food in his mouth.
"I think," Carina paused for suspense. "Toast, jelly, peanut butter, bacon, egg, and…"
"Ham?" suggested Mary.
Carina shook her head; that wasn't what she was craving.
"Erm, more bacon?" Ron questioned uncertainly.
"Yes!" and she crammed more bacon atop the monstrous sandwich. Left alone to her devices, she added a French toast and to top it off, a small sprinkle of confectioner's sugar.
Neville walked by greeted them cheerily.
"Mail's due any minute—I think Gran's sending a few things I forgot," said Neville, sitting next to Ron. Of course Neville would forget things—he was the most forgetful person she knew, even after herself.
As if on cue, the rushing sound of owls streaming through the large windows circled overhead, dropping letters and packages into the crowd. A large package "landed" on Neville's head, and a large gray owl crashed into Hermione's jug, spraying them with dark feathers and milk.
"You good, Neville?" asked Mary, looking pointedly at the large package.
"Fine," squeaked Neville, who had been knocked off his seat.
"Errol!" cried Ron, fishing the owl out of the wreckage by its feet. A damp scarlet letter was in his beak, making Ron drop the unconscious owl quickly.
"Oh, no—" he gasped.
"It's all right, he's still alive," said Hermione, poking Errol with the tip of her finger.
"Not that," said a spooked Neville. "That."
The once-damp red envelope was drying off quickly, much to her curiosity. Ron and Neville were tentatively looking at it, as if someone mailed them a bomb.
"What's the matter?" asked Harry, who was just as confused as they were.
"She's-she's sent me a Howler," stammered out Ron.
"You'd better open it, Ron," Neville whispered timidly. "It'll be worse if you don't—My Gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and"—he gulped—"it was horrible."
"What does a Howler do?!" Carina hissed, getting fed up over their antics and her thirst for knowledge.
Her question was ignored, as Ron still looked at the letter smoking on the wooden table.
"Open it," urged Neville. "It'll all be over in a few minutes—"
Ron anxiously reached out a trembling hand, easing the envelope out of Errol's beak, and slowly opened it. Neville shoved his fingers in his ears as an explosion sounded. Carina blanched, hair turning blonde. She looked up at the ceiling; dust had fallen as the roar from the scarlet envelope echoed across the Great Hall.
"—STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET A HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE—"
Mrs. Weasley's yells, a thousand times louder than usual, made the tables rattle and creak, as her voice boomed off the stonewalls. People were smiling and giggling as they turned quickly to see who had received the Howler, and Ron sank so low off the seat, that only his bright red forehead could be seen.
Carina turned to look at the twins, who paled at their mother's screams, but then wore proud smiles as they looked down the Gryffindor table.
"—LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU, CARINA, MARY, AND HARRY COULD HAVE DIED—"
She jumped slightly as her name was mentioned. Hopefully Dumbledore hadn't sent one to Ms. Campbell, who would most certainly send one to her and Mary as well. Maybe they wouldn't work for Squibs?
"—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."
An inquiry? Did they inadvertently get Mr. Weasley fired? Carina couldn't stomach the guilt, but she could stomach more food as she began taking large bites of her sandwich.
The crimson letter suddenly caught on fire, sending its ashes curling onto the table. A ringing silence after made her ears feel odd. So that was what a Howler did. It was like a tidal wave had passed over the hall, as a few people laughed and began their usual chatter. At this moment, Hermione deemed it important to speak up.
"Well, I don't know what you expected, Ron, but you—"
"Don't tell me I deserved it," snarled Ron.
Professor McGonagall was moving swiftly across the Gryffindor table, handing out timetables for the year. Carina had reached for hers, and read they had double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs first. Perfect, her least favorite subject for over two hours. What else could go wrong? She read down the list. Great! She even had Lockhart on the same day. At least Transfiguration was after Herbology; it was her favorite class.
The disgruntled group left the castle together, crossed the vegetable patch, and made for the dim glow of the greenhouses. Hermione seemed to think they had been punished and stopped acting so cordial towards them.
Nearing the greenhouses, Carina saw Professor Sprout's arms full of bandages, and she turned to look at the Whomping Willow in the distance, branches now in slings. Carina felt no remorse towards the damned tree that almost killed them, but she did feel bad for Professor Sprout, who had to bandage it. Oddly perfect Lockhart was next to her, flashing a bright smile at the class waiting outside the greenhouses.
Professor Sprout contrasted Lockhart greatly, with dirty hands, wild, messy hair, and a patched hat. Lockhart wore long, billowing robes of bright aquamarine, golden hair glinting under a turquoise hat with gold trimming. He was far cleaner than her by a long shot.
"Oh, hello there!" smiled Lockhart, blinding them with the reflecting light of his grin. "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—"
Carina decided to cut him off there, with a perfect question.
"Wow, really?!"—She faux-gasped in surprise—"How do you properly doctor a Whomping Willow, Professor Lockhart? Since you, apparently, know more about it than Professor Sprout?" Carina finished contemptuously.
Lockhart's smile melted right off his face, leaving her with a glowing sense of satisfaction as he opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Harry, Ron, and Mary burst out into laughter, making the class follow their lead. Professor Sprout looked thoroughly pleased as she too, looked at his helpless expression.
"Well—I'm sure you can read all about it in my books!" exclaimed Lockhart, reviving his sense of "knowledge".
"Greenhouse Three today, chaps!" called Professor Sprout, moving in her direction swiftly.
Greenhouse Three? Their usual place was Greenhouse One; surely there was more interesting plants there. Carina was about to move with Mary to the greenhouse, when Professor Sprout caught her shoulder quickly.
"Five points to Gryffindor, Miss Black," Professor Sprout said in a whispered smile.
Carina smiled happily at her. She got house points for mocking someone; her day had certainly improved slightly. Professor Sprout walked ahead, taking a large key from her belt and opening the door. The smell of damp earth and fertilizer mixed with sweet floral scents of umbrella-sized flowers hanging from the ceiling greeted them all. Curious, Carina moved closer to the tables, where many colorful different pots wobbled precariously. A long tray lay across one of the tables, with purplish green tufts sticking out in rows.
"Harry! I've been wanting a word—you don't mind if he's a couple of minutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?" rang out a voice from the entrance.
Without waiting for a reply, Lockhart fished Harry out of the crowd and dragged him by the shoulder out the door. Professor Sprout's expression morphed into a scowl and she said:
"Welcome to Greenhouse Three. I will be warning you now, there are far more dangerous plants than those of Greenhouse One." she paused as Harry entered the room, looking slightly flustered.
"Today we will be working with Mandrakes—we'll be repotting them—Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?" asked Professor Sprout.
Carina glanced around quickly. Neville looked as if he wanted to answer, but he was no match for Hermione's well-practiced hand.
"Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," said Hermione promptly, probably word for word from 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?"
Carina snickered as Hermione nearly hit Harry as her hand shot up once more. Neville definitely had to be faster than Hermione.
"The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it," she said, fast as a bullet.
"Precisely. Take another ten points," Professor Sprout continued. "Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young."
Baby Mandrakes?
Professor Sprout singled out the tray of tufts Carina had been looking at earlier. Earmuffs were on the seats next to them, most likely to prevent them from hearing their "cries".
Unsure about what she meant about "cries", Carina grabbed one of the pink, fluffy pairs, as the rest grabbed the ones that weren't warm and fuzzy. What if she made her hair a nice color to match? Maybe a tamer color than the earmuffs, like bubblegum pink.
"Now, 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."
There was an odd sensation, in which Carina could only hear the sound of her breathing and her pulse. She decided to make her hair the soft pink, as Professor Sprout put on similar earmuffs, rolled up her dirty frayed sleeves, and pulled on the tufted plants hard.
Carina's gray eyes widened; a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby popped out of the earth. It looked like a moldy potato, with leaves and a single stalk growing right out of his head, but with green pustules similar to a murky pond's color. Professor Sprout took a large plant pot and smashed the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, wet compost until only the tufted leaves of the stalk remained.
She dusted off her hands like nothing, and gave them all a thumbs-up. Carina reluctantly removed her earmuffs and paid attention to Professor Sprout once more.
"As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet," she calmly, as if it were a regular occurrence to her of nearly being killed by a plant. "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. Six to a tray, and watch out for the Venomous Tentacula; it's teething."
She slapped a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it withdraw the long feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.
Carina went to move to a tray with Harry, Mary, Ron, and Hermione. A Hufflepuff boy with curly hair joined them, one who looked slightly familiar.
"Justin Finch-Fletchley," he said brightly, shaking Harry's hand. "Know who you are of course, the famous Harry Potter…and you're Hermione Granger—always top in everything (Hermione beamed at this), Carina Black—Metamorphmagus and prankster (Carina smirked at him), Mary Fawley—brain of the operations (Mary looked slightly flustered), and Ron Weasley, wasn't that your flying car?"
Ron didn't smile. Carina laughed at his face, of course he was still feeling the aftermath of that Howler.
"That Lockhart's something, isn't he?" said Justin happily, as they began filling plant pots with dragon dung compost.
"If by something, you mean an awful fraud," laughed Carina.
"No; haven't you read his books? Awfully brave chap. I'd have died of fear if I'd been cornered into a telephone booth by a werewolf, but he stayed cool-zap-just fantastic."
"Didn't you hear my question outside? Was that in any of his books?" asked Carina, laughter dying down; obviously Justin was a fan-girl.
"Possibly, I haven't read them all, of course. My name was down for Eton, you know. I can't tell you how glad I am that I came here instead. Of course, Mother was slightly disappointed, but since I made her read Lockhart's books I think she's begun to see how useful it'll be to have a fully trained wizard in the family…" continued Justin, as if Carina hadn't said anything in the first place.
After his short conversation, their earmuffs were back on, and Carina was having difficulty getting the first Mandrake into her blue pot. It fought and fought like crazy trying to avoid getting in. Professor Sprout had made it look easy, a simple in and out action, but the damned plant kept fighting with all its might.
At the end of the period, Carina was tired and sweaty like everyone else. She'd only managed to get one of them in a pot (Hermione had finished more than five, and Neville several trays), but at least it was over.
Her favorite class was next, Transfiguration. She was particularly gifted in Transfiguration; it was like a natural calling she couldn't quite explain. It was also the only class in which Carina had a better grade than Hermione, a fact that irritated her very much.
"You don't even study!" Hermione exclaimed, rushing to McGonagall's class after their brief shower.
"I don't need to, and besides, Transfiguration is easy!" said Carina, rolling her eyes.
"Lucky," said Ron. "I'll never get it."
"Not with that attitude," Mary sniffed disapprovingly. Hermione smiled at that remark.
"Hey, maybe you'll get it this year," said Harry, attempting to cheer Ron up.
"It's all about your concentration and how much power you put into the spell; too much and it'll go completely wrong but too little and it doesn't get completely transfigured," explained Carina. "Oh and don't forget to make precise movements, not wave your wand around like in Charms."
"Wow, can you explain that, but slower," said Ron, drawing out a parchment.
"It's only what Minnie has been saying since last year, but oh well," Carina said dully. They had reached the classroom, where the rest of the students were waiting.
As she repeated what she had once said, the door to Professor McGonagall's classroom opened, greeting them with the stern face of their strict Transfiguration teacher.
"Excellent explanation, Miss Black, but Mr. Weasley, please do take notes in my classroom. And do not call me Minnie," she said, looking over their heads as they poured into the room. Carina moved to sit next to Harry, who was sat next to Ron. Mary sat with Hermione and another girl in their year and dorm, Lavender Brown.
"Today you will be turning a beetle into a button," said Professor McGonagall, commandeering attention as she shut the door with a wave of her wand.
"I assume you remember the equation for Transfiguration from your first year, which equals to Wand Power multiplied by Concentration divided by Viciousness and Body Weight multiplied together and then completely multiplied by the variable, Z, which measures creativity and definition of the transfiguring process for the finished product," she continued, pausing to draw a breath.
Ron was scribbling furiously onto his parchment, notes looking a mess and somewhat having a lack of defined structure. Harry looked like someone hit him with a rogue Bludger, taking short bullet points of the equation for his notes. They both had similarly clueless faces as to what Minnie was going on about.
"Now, Mr. Thomas, please give everyone a beetle. I shall be monitoring your work which should be finished before the lesson ends," said Professor McGonagall, pointing to a white cardboard box on her desk.
Carina looked at her table partners and sighed. They certainly were not going to be able to turn their beetle into a button.
Dean walked by and handed her a bright pink beetle, the same as her long wavy hair. She shot him a smirk and he winked at her, making her laugh. Soon, the classroom was full of dastardly attempts to desperately change their beetle into a button, but Carina decided to help Harry and Ron, who looked like they were really struggling.
"What's up with your wand?" asked Carina, looking at the poorly attached, abused stick of wood that was spitting green sparks everywhere.
"Stupid—" Ron smacked it against the desk. "Useless—" Again. "Thing—" Once more. "Won't work!"
Deciding Ron's wand was beyond anyone's help, she turned to Harry, who was making his beetle scuttle around as it avoided being jabbed by his wand.
"What are you doing, Prongs?" laughed Carina.
Harry flushed and said, "Turning a beetle into a button."
"Well, giving a beetle exercise is the first step!" she said with amusement.
Harry scowled at her and she returned to her own beetle, which was glittering a pretty pink color. She thought for second, picturing the beetle as a shimmering rose pink coat button.
"Coliobulus!" she exclaimed, giving the beetle a sharp jab with her rowan and phoenix feather wand.
The beetle was scuttling like normal—until the white light engulfed the exoskeleton and died down as the button landed with a pleasant clatter. It had a small trimming of black, with pink swirling floral designs along the interior of the button, the petals lined with dark curves, the two small holes in which to sew into located at the center of the rose decorations. The underside was a solid black color, which was visible as Harry lifted the button to inspect it.
"It's pretty," he said, looking at his own green beetle dejectedly.
"Do you remember the equation? It's not exactly precise, as a theory, but it makes it simpler to understand," said Carina, raising a pink brow.
"Erm, so I just have to imagine it as a button?" asked Harry, looking at her bewilderedly.
"Don't forget the other things, like wand power and movements, it's meant to be fast and simple," she replied, leaving him to his devices.
Professor McGonagall walked along, lifting her button with a scrutinizing eye, but set it down on her table, and handed Carina her pink button.
"Very nice, Miss Black, please do the opposite of this spell, and turn it back into a beetle," said Professor McGonagall, waiting expectantly.
"Um, alright," said Carina, a bit startled that she had asked for her to do that.
Carina tried to form the equation, that instead of a button, she saw the pink shimmering exoskeleton of the once beetle. She did the opposite movement of the original, but uttered a different spell.
"Exero Sacarobulus," A spell she made up using the usual Transfiguaration terms.
The button gave a violent clatter as it cracked into a beetle once more, scuttling around with its oddly colored exoskeleton.
Professor McGonagall looked slightly surprised, but lifted the beetle carefully. She poked and prodded it, turned it round and round again, before finally getting another beetle, this one a cerulean blue.
"Continue making buttons, Miss Black," she said simply, walking back to her desk with the transfigured beetle.
And so the hour of changing beetles to buttons endured.
~CFB~
Ron kept moaning about his broken wand throughout lunch, making Carina grow a bit irritated. To distract herself, she changed her hair many colors, finally settling on a nice lilac shade.
"What class've we got next?" asked Mary, setting down her golden spoon into the likewise golden bowl.
"Lockhart!" shouted Hermione, looking up from her book as Mary finished her words.
Ron took her timetable quickly, while Harry sent her an inquiring glance.
"Moony, why have you gone and dotted all of Lockhart's lessons with little hearts?" demanded Ron, sounding rather disgusted.
"Oohh…someone likes Lockhart…" snickered Mary, while Carina choked on her sandwich.
"Help meh," croaked out Carina, struggling as laughter and food constricted her airway.
"Anapneo," hissed a flushed Hermione.
The offending mass disappeared from her throat, leaving Carina to cough her lungs out. Her rough coughs turned into barking laughter as she continued to look at Hermione's red face.
"Let's go outside," Harry said, dropping his fourth half-eaten sandwich.
They walked into the courtyard, which had several oak trees and stone statues and benches littered throughout it. Hermione had returned to her book, which coincidentally was one of Lockhart's, Voyages with Vampires. Mary led her to a bench, where she began arguing about how dark chocolate was the worst kind of chocolate possible.
"How can you say that?!" screeched Mary. "Dark chocolate is the best thing to ever grace this earth. Milk chocolate is cloyingly sweet, I don't know how you can eat so much of the stuff."
"Um, I think you're talking about milk chocolate, Leo," scoffed Carina. "Dark chocolate is bitter, horrible, and tasteless. How can you possibly enjoy it?!"
"Well, first off, it's good for you, second, the bitterness makes it enjoyable!" Mary exclaimed. "Then you can add sweeter things to it, like raspberry filling or caramel!"
"NO!" bellowed Carina. "Caramel belongs to milk chocolate! Adding it to dark chocolate is an insult to milk chocolate-lovers everywhere!"
"Caramel isn't bound to a certain type of chocolate," said Mary, narrowing her eyes.
"Neither is raspberry filling," retorted Carina.
"But you can seriously add dark chocolate to anything you want, and it'll taste good!" Mary said, exasperated. "And, they use it to make chocolate chip cookies and cakes!"
"Milk chocolate is creamy and sweet; dark chocolate is bitter and not sweet." Carina replied stiffly.
"You like bitter coffee and tea! How can you not like dark chocolate?!" groaned Mary, fed up with the argument.
"There's a fine line between good and bad," said Carina simply. "And I like my coffee with two sugars."
Mary opened her mouth in an attempt to defend dark chocolate once more, but Malfoy's loud exclamation caused all chatter to stop in the courtyard.
"Everyone line up! Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!"
Carina leapt to Harry's side, as he growled back, "No, I'm not. Shut up Malfoy."
"Famous Potter, can't even walk around a courtyard without signing pictures of himself," drawled Malfoy, clearly enjoying the agitated look on Harry's face. A small mousy boy stood next to him, holding a very large camera, one that looked as if it were from when Dumbledore was a kid!
"You're just jealous!" squeaked the boy, whose body was at least the diameter of Crabbe's neck.
"Jealous?" Malfoy repeated, a dead calm look poised on his pointed face. "Of what? I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself."
Crabbe and Goyle began snickering like dumb trolls—and Carina would know; one nearly killed her the year before.
Harry is by far more significant than he will ever be.
Hair black, and eyes blazing, she bitterly replied, "Oh yes, there's something absolutely special about a blond ferret that did nothing to contribute to the fall of Voldemort."
This caused Malfoy to narrow his eyes at her, and his goons to crack their knuckles menacingly. Several of the Slytherins listening in quickly turned to their previous positions and others began looking at them warily. The mousy boy was looking at her with an astonished face; probably never heard of a Metamorphmagus before.
"Go on then," challenged Ron, Spellotaped wand held high. "Try us, why don't you."
"Potter, Weasley would like one of those signed photos—probably cost more than his house—" continued Malfoy with a hint of malice, clearly not intimidated by Ron or Carina.
A snap suddenly caught Carina's hand in place from reaching her wand. Hermione had slammed her book shut as a horribly unwelcome person approached: Lockhart.
"Who's giving out signed photos?" he asked, waving his arms around in an excited manner.
Poor Harry had opened his mouth to reply, but Lockhart rapidly saw the movement.
"Needn't have asked!" boomed Lockhart, putting his arm around Harry. "We meet again, Harry!"
"Actually, I was giving out signed photos," said Carina, flashing a faux-cheerful smile at him. "Um—" She pointed at the mousy boy. "He was just asking about my abilities!" laughed Carina convincingly.
"Oh erm, yeah!" said Harry, laughing awkwardly with her as he caught along. "Colin here, has never seen a Metamorphmagus before!"
"And they're pretty rare, so it's an odd occurrence to meet one," chimed Mary, contributing to Harry's aid.
"Really, a Metamorphmagus?" Lockhart said, clearly not believing them.
"Yeah!" said Ron, finally understanding their plan.
On cue, Carina made her hair the shade of lilac it had been before Malfoy had irritated her. Lockhart's blue eyes widened in shock, and slowly, a large smile began to break out on his face.
"My, oh my, Miss Black!" he said, pausing to chuckle. "How did you know that was my favorite color?!"
Humiliated, Carina quickly hid her flush of embarrassment as he hooked her to his other arm and pulled Harry close to him. Malfoy slunk into the crowd, a wide smirk pulling his sharp features oddly.
"Come on now, Mr. Creevey, a shot of me, Mr. Potter, and Miss Black! And we'll even sign it for you!" said Lockhart, holding them in his iron tight grip.
Colin fumbled with his camera for a bit, and took the picture, smiling widely at the lot of them. Carina quickly tugged her arm out of Lockhart's grasp as the bell signaling the time for classes rang. Nostrils flaring, she made her hair the darkest shade of black she could think of, and her eyes a deep bloody red. Perhaps sharpened teeth would top it off, as to terrify those who would try and taunt her. Let anyone mess with her now, she thought savagely.
Stalking away from the walking disaster that was Professor Lockhart, she begrudgingly made her way towards Colin Creevey. He would most definitely know what a Metamorphmagus was by the time she was finished. He was rounding a corner, when she caught his shoulder. Startled, the poor first year looked up at her terrified.
"Do not let anyone see that photo unless I see it first, got it?" Carina snarled, showing off her pointed teeth. "Don't let me hear about it around Gryffindor Tower or it'll be an unpleasant experience."
Colin nodded furiously, and ran off to his next class. She let out a sigh. Scaring first years was nice, but not when they had blackmail to use against her! Making her way towards the now open classroom, she barely made it in as the tardy bell rang. Heaving an exasperated groan, Carina went to sit next to Harry, who was still a faint shade of pink. Hermione moved next to her, and Mary went to sit next to Ron.
"You look kind of pissed, Padfoot," said Mary, looking pointedly at her teeth that she'd forgotten to change back.
"I was scaring first years," she said simply, as if that cleared up the matter.
"Ah," said Harry, catching her drift.
Lockhart finally strode into the classroom, and grabbed one of the copies of his books from Neville's desk.
"Me," he began, as if he would begin class any other way. "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 let's not talk about that, I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"
He paused, as if any of them were going to laugh at his pitiful attempt at humor.
"I doubt he got rid of it at all," Carina whispered loudly, causing them all to snicker silently, except for Hermione, of course.
"I see you've all bought all of my books, well done. I thought we'd start off today with a little quiz nothing to worry about, just checking how well you've read…" he trailed off, handing them a lengthy 'quiz'. Three papers long, to be exact.
"Aaaannnddd start!" he called, as if Carina really cared anyways.
The first question was very ridiculous, "What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?"
Sadly, she actually knew the answer from his outburst about her hair in the courtyard. Sometimes, Carina hated being kinda smart. Lilac, egh. Well, at least she wouldn't dare make any part of her anatomy that color with Lockhart in the castle. The next question was equally as ridiculous, and it seemed the entire quiz was exactly the same.
Carina was not going to insult her intelligence by answering any portion of that god-forsaken test. Glancing around, most of her classmates thought the same thing; this test was freaking pointless. Hermione seemed to be answering them diligently, as she was already on the second paper.
Not long after Carina noticed Hermione dot the final "I" on her paper, Lockhart deemed it time to pick up all of the quizzes. He strode back to the front of the class, where he read through all of the papers quickly, praising Hermione for her perfect quiz.
Not surprisingly, Carina zoned out a while before, around the time he started talking about harmony, and she focused intently on the spider spinning a web in the far corner of the room. A shuffling garnered her attention however, as her classmates began to lean towards the mysterious cage that appeared on Lockhart's desk when she wasn't paying attention.
Its ominous demeanor made them almost fall out of their seats, and Carina definitely wanted to know what was under the tarp.
~CFB~
Oops! I kind of forgot about this fanfic because of semester exam prep, so I won't be making promises for consistent updates, but I could update more if I make them shorter. So, either a wait for 5k words, or consistent 1-3k word chapters. Nothing under 1k; no worries!
~pugatron~