A/N: Ello, mates! Here is the first chapter.

#9: I will not write all my essays in red ink and claim it's blood.

Hope you like it, read and review! Stay bloody brilliant!

-PJatOgirl

"You are dismissed." Professor McGonagall said, and everyone stood up and rushed for the door. I was almost out of the room when McGonagall called my name. "Emma Jones, I need to speak with you."

People snickered and I shot them my classic 'you'll-hear-about-this-later-trust-me-it's hilarious' look. McGonagall cleared her throat and I turned back to her. "What'd I do this time?" I asked innocently. Hah.

She didn't laugh. She held up my essay, the one we turned in today on the theory and ethics of transfiguring cats to jammie dodgers. That wasn't the assigned topic, but it is much more entertaining to write about. Trust me. "What is this? Explain, Jones." She said, gesturing to my parchment.

"Well, I decided this topic was much more relevant to what we've been learning and what we'll need to know when we're older. Because if you are having company over and forgot to get the desserts, you should have a plan. But how does the cat feel about becoming snacks? And do your guests approve of eating your pet? I answered those questions and more in my essay. I'm sure it will do." I said seriously. "Does that answer your question?"

"No. I asked what this is." She said, motioning to the words on my parchment.

"Oh, I see. You want to know why the wording is red."

"Yes. Explain, Jones, or points will be taken."

"Well…" I said cautiously. "Are you sure you want to know?" She made an impatiently angry sound. "Right then. I would tell you it's jam…but that wouldn't be true."

"Spit it out Jones."

"It's blood, Professor."

"Stop playing with me. This is unacceptable. Other professors have complained to me about you and your jokes, and from now on, we aren't going to be as soft with you. Ten points from Gryffindor-" I opened my mouth to protest but she shushed me. "-one point for each of the essays you've turned in written in red ink. I'm also confiscating your supply of red ink. Hand it over."

This means war, I thought, handing her my ink with an innocent smile. "Sorry Professor. It won't happen again."

"It had better not, Jones." She said as I left.

Oh it won't. But that doesn't stop me from doing another thing.