Disclaimer: I own not one measly scrap of Harry Potter, only a modest drive to write and a lot of prattling romantic dreams and klutzdom that is Lily Potter. Kindly do not sue.
Wednesday 10 September
I have deduced:
I have issues.
And not just the standard subscription to Witch Weekly, Wizard's World and the dry Daily Prophet type issue.
I go for the full monty.
I am a paid-up member of the loony bin and the world-renowned twit.
I live in the valley of crap, in crapland, crap kingdom on planet crap in the Universe of the Totally Hopeless.
Potter, Radio Frank and I were in Advanced Potions, brewing the astonishingly useless Freckle Potion. You know how much I needed freckles on a scale of one to ten? Minus fourteen. Potter and Remus the Bludger were paired together, while I was stuck with the more-useless-than-freckles Dough Boy.
Sacré Bleu.
Dough Boy was rambling for England about the injustices of being paired with the likes of me. "Professor Slughorn, I would like to protest being paired with the rookie………. I mean, ……..he only just transferred to this school. ………His level might be below the level of this school ……….because he only just transferred here. You know, maybe I should be with someone with a higher level……."
He's such a pal. He said to me in his mind, "Take that you filth." So I said telepathically back to him, "Shut up Mr. Pillsbury."
Professor Slughorn seemed not to notice. Dough Boy was delivering him glares that might send the ol' Prof. Sluggie to bake in the great oven in the ground.
I'm talking about the nearest volcano, if you get my drift.
Grumbling like a mad hippo, Dough Boy and I started our potion, rather I did. I left him to his own tinkering in his ickle chemistry set.
About half-way through class, I had completed my potion, and sat back to bask in its hopeless glory. D.B. then had an uncontrollable sneezing attack and sprayed myself, Allister Kovinsky and Charlie Nott with nose debris.
I wish he had more snot control. I toweled myself down with my robe when I noticed a white blotch on my shoe.
Dear God!
MERLIN!
EWWW!
"Black! You sneezed a whelk on my shoe!"
He is indescribably thick. He didn't even hear me, and kept right on sneezing.
The nerve.
"Prof sneeze Slug sneeze I think I'm allergic to Vanes's sneeze cat." Liar! Vair vair pathetico. I have no cat and I don't want one. I mean, really, I was in sheer desperadoes for days after leaving Lady Fiona at home.
Not.
I would have loved to tell him what would really make him sneeze in very fluent Portuguese.
However I don't speak Portuguese.
Dough Boy was excused to the nurse, without a bloody catch.
"Mr. Vanes, please clean up that…disaster." Professor Slughorn said nonchalantly as the infected one left the room.
I'll show you a disaster you overgrown toaster! I wish I had the audacity to tell him to bugger off.
I bent down to wipe the gook off my shiny new shoe. If there is anything that annoys me, it is a good shoe put to waste. I heart shoes!
Ick. I wiped my hand on Nott's shoulder in front of me (he cringed and glared at me), then bent down to polish off the job.
Except when I touched my shoe, I couldn't un-touch it.
I was stuck. To my shoe. Bent over in knicker baring glory.
REGULUS WHELKER DOUGH BOY BLACK! YOU JERK-FACE!
"Erm, Professor?" I yelled.
He looked around for his pager. I nudged the desk until he peered around at my bum-oley clear in the air for all to see. Of all the ways to be stuck, I had to be bent over.
"I'm stuck, Professor." I said.
"How'd you do that?" Professor Slughorn asked.
"It was Black! He must have knocked over a sticking solution onto my foot. I tried to clean it up but I'm stuck!" I explained.
"Really? How would you say you're stuck?"
"To my sodding shoe!" I yelled.
Why does this always happen to me? I must have done something horrible in a past life, like shaving someone's eyebrows off.
"You might want to go to the hospital wing then." Professor Slughorn said. He muttered something about an interesting choice of potion.
"Yes I think I might." I said dryly and hobbled out of the room.
Pferd! It is hard to walk with your hand stuck to your shoe!
I can't wait to get my hands around Black's neck. If he's at the hospital wing (bollocks!) when I get there I will make sure to glue his nose shut so he can never sneeze again.
Ever.
Friday 12 September -Great Hall
Mmmmmmmmm. Meatloaf……
Meatloaf is the most gorgeous, faby invention since taste buds.
And it's for dinner!
Score!
Even Sirius asked to shake my hand when I topped his meatloaf consumption at dinner. Peter stupidly ruined my victory when he asked if I wanted to go have my head examined at the nurse for competing with Sirius at the Supper Olympics.
As if.
My head is full of intelligent things and deep understanding. Gosh, Peter is getting majora stupidus these days.
Potter was smart enough just oogle at me disbelievingly. Remus the Bludger pretended not to notice (He was reading Pig-man….or…Hamlet, something like that.) Frank just continued badgering me with questions about what I was eating, why I was eating and when I was going to stop eating before they had another Sirius on their hands. The table cringed when he said the latter of that statement.
When we were finished, Dumbledore decided he didn't try to expose me enough. My nerves were fried as soon as he stood up.
"May I have your attention." Dumbledore said mistly and paused for the Hall to quiet down. "This year we have been invited to participate in an international extravaganza. The European Wizard's Elite Quidditch Association will be sponsoring an international tournament between Wizarding schools for scouting the newest rising Quidditch stars. I have accepted the invitation. Tryouts will be open next week for fifth years and up who wish to represent Hogwarts on the school's unified Quidditch team in the King's Quidditch Grand Championship. Captain will be elected after the team is chosen. There is a sign up sheet on each House announcement board and each candidate must enter themselves. Please, do not discombobulate anyone or thing in the rush. The hospital wing only has a capacity of twelve…" Dumbledore beamed at the hall.
"Brilliant!" Potter and Sirius high-fived.
"We'll all make the team. It will be so bloody amazing." Frank said.
Oh. Dear. God.
How could I tell them that I couldn't play Quidditch? Okay, I know the rules because of the marvelous and super fit dishy Ireland National Quidditch Team, but: I live in a muggle neighborhood and I went to an all girls school for ladies. That leaves how much time to practice Quidditch? Zip, zero, zilch, none and nil. I've never flown on a broomstick!
SOD!
How do I tell that to a bunch of blokes with enough adrenaline to flood the Pacific Ocean and enough talent to amass the galaxy that I can't play Quidditch?
I can imagine my funeral now. Loved ones and friends will be crying, repeating the mantra: 'She was so young and only in her prime' as they mourn They will look at photos of me, I'll make sure they're ones of me in a groovy plaid skirt and some killer shoes, even though I have big feet. The Hogwarts lads will be bent over my coffin, wondering why Dumbledore hadn't told them about the BEAUTIFUL girl that was among them. Mournfully, they will try and close the coffin…with difficulty…because I am so stuffed with meatloaf.
Erlack.
"I doubt that. Hufflepuff has Amos Diggory, and Ravenclaw has Ray Chang. Allister Kovinsky isn't a pushover either. Prongs, Padfoot and Frank may have wicked skills but not everyone here does. This isn't Gryffindor's House Team." Remus the Bludger said.
Frank grumbled in agreement.
Remus Lupin, I could snog you in any form! You might not like it but that's not what's important here.
"We're the Marauders, we'll make it! We're the best!" Potter cheered.
Merlin, could his head inflate any larger? It's nearly its own continent. I take back any nice comments I ever had about Potter.
"Also, everyone will be dead scared that they'll get a prankfest if they bump one of us off the team." Sirius added with a nod of his head.
I have absolutely decided I could not back out of this gracefully. HAH! I am the resident klutz of England and grace equates to my Quidditch skills: NONE! Take that, you cosmic universal powers that are against me, you!
Remus the Bludger sighed heavily and shrugged.
After that, we were all dismissed like a stampede of antelope heading for the watering hole. Little do they know that watering hole is probably infested with disease.Those poor antelope may get infected.
During the avalanche of hopefuls, I managed to loose the Git-auders as I crawled on my knees among a squabble of first years. Once out of sight, I bum rushed away from the confused little 'hobbits' and in the complete opposite direction of the Common Rooms.
Mrs. Norris, Filch's alarmingly stupid cat pounced on my trousers 'round the ankle as I tried to run. With a heavy, desperate heart and even heavier trousers, I ran-hopped to the school entrance when I tripped over the contorted hem of my pants and landed in a pile at the bottom of the entrance staircase.
No sign of Mrs. Norris. I think I lost her sometime on the way down. I hear her whining.
What is it with cats and human names? They're already smarter than us and I see no logic in magnifying the difference.
Found Mrs. Norris. She's perched atop the chandelier.
I wonder how she got there.
Later - Gryffindor Common Room
The Common Room was chock full o' nutters when I finally stumbled inside, gossiping about the new tournament.
"Oi! Lee! I signed you up for the tournament!" Sirius belted and waved from a window bench the Marauders were all crowding around.
"But I thought I had to sign myself up?" I nearly pleaded with him as I made my way over.
"You think the Marauders can't get around that?" Remus the Bludger said with a quirked eyebrow.
Crikey.
Remus, old buddy, old pally wally, I thought you were on my side.
I decided not to ruin their boyish high spirits, and instead I grabbed a banana from the adorable fruit bowl sitting in the Common Room and toasted it over the fire while manning my post on burning-down-the-tower duty.
All I could think of was Quidditch.
Krapfen. I am in deep poo.
Saturday 13 September - Common Room
I cornered dear Sirius after breakfast while Potter and Frank went to get their equipment for Exploding Snap. A night of tired logic yielded that I needed ignorance to bail me out of this situation. Alice would be laughing hera rse to China if she could see me now - er - maybe she can. But minor details! Speaking of details she hasn't flooed me yet with results for Project Potter. He's so good-looking some wet snob has to know him! The guy must have had a girlfriend before. Ooh, maybe I can casually ask him who his girlfriend is and then question her. She must be an angel to have patience and a lot of money to house is stupid inflated head and all his ego. They might want to add another floor because it's still growing with his Quidditch talent. Wait, talent, Quidditch…where was I before I so rudely interrupted myself? Oh yes. Stubborn Lily Eva- oi!- Lee Vanes has to ask for help.
"Sirius, I need your help."
"Have no fear, Sirius is here!" He saluted.
I tried not to roll my eyes, really I did!
"I'm a muggle-born…and-and I never really learned how to fly well because my past school was….useless." I blabbered like an idiot.
Sirius was gob smacked. "What back-water school are you from?"
A crap ladies' school (or I would so kick your arse in the name of lady.) I can belch its anthem if you'd like. Peter taught me how to change pitches -
Whooooo where did that come from? ACK! I am mutating into their kind!
Eww! That's gross!
"Erm, if it's unknown would you even know it?" I tried. He seemed to accept this logic.
"Don't worry Lee. Professor Sirius Orion Black will turn you into a Quidditch star by dinner time." He punched me in the shoulder for emphasis.
"Er - sure." I massaged my injured shoulder.
"Get your broom Lee! Quidditch pitch in ten!" He barked and charged to his dorm dramatically.
Blimey. Sirius was serious.
Later - My Dorm
I am quite literally lying in a bed of pain. My Quidditch robes are soiled and soaked with sweat but I am too tired and achy to wrestle them off.
I am beginning to wonder if this effort and torture is worth the education. I've got a bit of natural flying talent if it's any consolation.
Hah. Consolation. HAHAHAHAHAHA yeah right!
I removed my identity spell and wiggled out of the uniform until I was just in my jumper and trousers
Hmmm. Snuggle snuggle. Ooh….sheep. One...Two...Three...Forty Four….zzzzzzzzzzzz
Sunday 14 September - My Dorm
Sirius Orion Black needs to be hexed in the face.
Why?
Because at bloody five thirty A.M. he levitated an alarm clock into my room to disturb my well deserved anti-zit beauty sleep. Who even knew he was capable of waking before lunch!
But:
Blokes plus Quidditch equals Loco.
By the time I was out of bed I was extremely grumpy. I am not a morning person as you may have guessed.
I cast my identity spell, grabbed my broom and cloak and scuttled down to the Quidditch Pitch.
"Aww lookit. Here's a beautiful morning glory." Sirius said, I can hear his voice dripping with sarcasm, similar to Chinese water torture.
What a smart arse. Of course he was referring to my hair that vaguely resembled Potter's shockingly untidy hair and my bloodshot eyes.
"Only sport obsessed psychos get up this early." I said in my defense.
"Well that's exactly what I'm going to turn you in to." He said. How thoughtful of him.
"Sirius, don't be a git and a fool and a prat. Or stupid. Have you seen my Ireland National collection?" I gave him a death glare and stomped to the center of the misty pitch. The grounds were breathtaking covered in mist with a rising sun however I couldn't care if they resembled Siberia.
We decided to start out by mapping out what positions I would stand a chance for:
James was the seeker. Sirius and Remus were beaters. Frank was a chaser and Peter tried to be a chaser. We decided that it would excellent for matches and for stuffing around if I would be Keeper.
That meant for a good part of the day, I was target practice. My Comet 180 wasn't as nimble as Sirius's Clean Sweep Four and he had his life's experience more than I. We didn't end our 'session' until supper. I only fell from my broom or lost control four times. Each time Sirius would either levitate me to safety or transfigure a giant pillow. (which I would have gladly fell asleep on. Afterwards he would only shake his head and tut like a chicken in Quidditch robes.
The slave driver and I rejoined the rest of the gang for supper afterwards. Potter made sure to give us both a suspicious stare. What is it with all the suspicion?
I watched Sirius pile his plate with corn.
Maybe he was a chicken after all.
Danke for all your wonderful reviews! I know this is probably not what you were all expecting! You'll have to wait and see what disasteriffic dilemmas Lily gets herself into next! I won't give away a word - because I have the next few chapters planned out to the tee and I refuse to spoil it for you.
Agnes1014: Remus is indeed a half blood. However during their conversation, we the readers can only see from Lily's point of view so I am going to share James's logic with you. See, James figured that the majority of the school is pureblood, except for Remus and 'Lee'. If Lily realized that Remus was a special case, then she might figure out there might be a special reason for Remus's enrollment at Hogwarts since she herself was a special case as a muggle-born. Because of all the unpalatable and concealment charms on the school, (and her own special case) Lily would soon find out Dumbledore's mastery of disguise. James was simply worried that Lily might suspect something of Remus, and then pry and invade his privacy to find out what it was.
J.E.A.R.K. Potter: Lily and James are on civil grounds for now, but there is a long way to go before she completely abolishes the thoughts of twitdom coinciding with the name James Potter….if that's possible.
WitchyMage: An excellent question about electricity at Hogwarts! I figured some loophole existed with electricity at the school. Not that the movie is anything to go by, Mr. Lupin had somehow managed to get a record player to function during the Boggart lesson. If you'd like a very technical explanation, think back to Colin Creevy's camera. By electricity or batteries, it has to function on electric. I can prove the electric was present because of the flash that went off when he took a picture of Harry. Inside cameras, even in the 1970's is some form of prehistoric computer chip. Inside a little box on the chip is die-electric tantalum powder. Die-electric means the tantalum powder is always charged with an electrical current until the shutter goes off, triggering the flash. The powder releases the charge that erupts in a flash of light, then quickly cuts off the current after use and builds up electrical charges until the next release. There is your loop-hole that proves some electricity can function inside magic barriers. Or you can pretend it was just magic. ;)
Once again, please review. I would appreciate it greatly. I really enjoy reading your comments.