Sick Thoughts by Lewis Blissett

We're psychos forever

In diamonds and leather

We'll never get better

September 20th, 1978

Letting her bookbag slide off her shoulder, it landed with a loud slap.

Ivy leaned against the wall outside the Charms classroom and sank to the floor.

Theya, who had already been sitting in the dark, deserted corridor, ceased shooting yellow and pink sparks from her wand.

"Merlin's beard," she stared at Ivy's bag. "What've you put in there?"

Glancing over at it, she noticed -not for the first time- that it was bursting at the seams. She had fit most of her textbooks inside in an attempt to get as much studying done as possible during her free period. But what took up the most space was the cursed book from Borgin and Burke's that contained Ariadne's wand. Paranoid as she was, she'd thought it better to keep the tome nearby. Now that the bag looked ready to pop, she was unsure if that had been the best course of action. Still, she had yet to think of a way to destroy it without being sucked into oblivion.

"All my textbooks," Ivy ran a hand through her hair. Halfway through, her fingers caught on a knot, yanking at her scalp and reminding her of why she used to wear it in a bun. "Bollocks, help!"

"You know," Theya assisted her in detangling the knot. "There are Detangling Spells out there that can prevent this if you use them in the morning."

"Really?"

"Mhm," she finger-combed Ivy's hair.

"We really do have it easy, huh?" She rubbed her scalp.

"I don't know about that," Theya gave her a meaningful look.

"Right," Ivy cast a Muffliato but lowered her voice anyway. "The reason we're here. Before you ask, no, I haven't come up with anything. Defeating Dark Lords is distinctly uneasy."

"Well, I had a thought."

"Yeah?" She looked at her hopefully.

"It might not yield anything," Theya said soberly. "But I thought we could ask around about You-Know-Who. I mean, what do we know about him, really, aside from the fact that he's scary and powerful? Nobody's born with a name like Voldemort," she winced, clearly uncomfortable with using the name. "Maybe we can find weaknesses in his past."

"We can try," Ivy said sceptically. "But there's a lot of reasons I never have, one of them being that there's no subtle way to do it."

"You're right about that," Theya looked thoughtful. "There's no point trying to be subtle; I was thinking we could use Obliviation or find some sort of spell that rewrites memories. There's got to be something like that if there's an entire ruddy spell dedicated to detangling hair, right?"

"There's gotta be," Ivy gave a half-hearted laugh. "But I don't know who we would try it with. Death Eaters are far too risky."

"True."

Stretching out her legs on the cold stone as they pondered in silence, Ivy's stockings did nothing to prevent the chill.

"What about the Professors?" Theya suggested after a moment. "It's a bit much to ask Dumbledore or McGonagall, but what about Binns? He's a historian. Or the DADA Professor - what's her name? Seems like we have a new one every year, I can never keep track."

"Dunbittle."

"I'm sorry, dung beetle? The new DADA teacher is Professor Dungbeetle?"

"No," Ivy rolled her eyes. "Dunbittle."

"If I call her Dungbeetle, maybe that'll help me remember her name."

"Except it's not her name."

"Semantics," she waved a hand.

Footsteps sounded from around the corner and Ivy gave a jolt.

Quickly pulling a random book out of her near-bursting bag, Theya hurriedly took down the Muffliato and scooched closer to look over Ivy's shoulder at the book.

When the footsteps stopped in front of them, Ivy looked up to find Regulus. He towered over them and she briefly wondered if this was what it was like to be Theya, as he and Ivy were both far taller than her. Hands in his pockets and Head Boy badge stuck to his chest, his dark eyes glittered in amusement.

"It's my turn to tell you that your book is upside down."

"Tosser," Ivy muttered, stuffing the book into her nearly worn through bag.

He smirked. "What are you two doing out here?"

"Studying," Theya smiled innocently. "This time of night no one usually comes through. It's quieter."

"Why not just go to the Library?" Regulus looked like he didn't believe a word of it. "Pince would gladly decapitate anyone disturbing the silence. Theya, you didn't even bring anything to study with."

Indeed, she had brought nothing to their little meeting aside from her wand.

"You caught us," the golden-haired witch slapped her knees. "We were discussing how handsome the new Head Boy is."

"Funny," Regulus rolled his eyes and held out a hand to each girl, helping them to their feet. "I can take a hint."

Theya grinned. "Where were you headed?"

"I'm meeting Meadowes outside the Divination classroom so we can figure out next month's patrols."

"I'll walk with you," Ivy heaved her school bag over her shoulder, nearly toppling over in the process. "There was something I wanted to ask her."

Theya glanced between the two of them and smiled slyly, opening her mouth to say something. At the last second, however, she appeared to think better of it, and nodded a goodbye.

As Ivy and Regulus started off towards the seventh floor, Theya headed in the opposite direction.

"You got that?" Regulus nodded at her bag as they began up the Grand Staircase, which was entirely void of students. "Looks like with one wrong move it'll snap your spine."

"M'fine," she said despite her legs wobbling beneath her with every step.

When they reached the fifth floor, Ivy halted their trek. Panting, she leaned against the wall of an archway to catch her breath.

"Here," Regulus pulled the bag off her shoulder and it slipped right out of his grasp, thumping to the stone. "Blimey."

Slinging it over his shoulder with a puff, he jerked his head to continue on.

Upon reaching the seventh floor, it was his turn to gasp for air. Despite her protests, he carried it all the way to the Divination classroom, where he dumped the school bag at Doe's feet.

"Hey," Doe grinned at him. "Little heavy for ya?"

Regulus bent over to put his hands on his knees, wheezing.

"It's my bag," Ivy said. "I went a tad overboard trying to study earlier."

"Why don't you put an Extension Charm on it?" Doe patted her own bag. "Makes things much easier."

"Flitwick won't tell me the incantation," Ivy watched Regulus as he sank to his knees, vanquished by the book bag. "Guess those charms are heavily regulated by the Ministry. What is it?"

"Capacious extremis."

"Thanks," she committed the spell to memory. "By the way, I wanted to ask, have you heard of That Which Is Natural and That Which Is Not? It's some sort of Divination book… I think."

"I haven't," Doe smiled apologetically, twirling a strand of her chin-length reddish hair.

"Worth a shot. What are you doing out here so late?"

"Getting extra help from Withershire. But speaking of late," Doe's blue eyes twinkled mischievously. "You should get back to your Dormitory before we have to give you detention."

"Wouldn't want that," Ivy snorted.

"I wouldn't put it past the other Prefects," Regulus got back to his feet, sounding recovered. "Some of the Gryffindors are out tonight."

Ivy wrinkled her nose and reached for her bag. As she lifted it painstakingly onto her shoulder, there was a loud rip and the bag split, sending the contents crashing to the ground.

Staring down at the mess of shattered ink bottles and ruined parchment, she released a long sigh of defeat.

"Damn," Regulus knelt down to Scourgify the salvageable items, setting them aside from the broken glass.

"I've a spare bag you can use," Doe got to her knees and opened her bag, putting Ivy's things inside. "It's a bit small, but I can bring you your things in it tomorrow so you're not hauling all this down to the Dungeons."

"Thank you," Ivy said gratefully, kneeling down to help.

"What's this?" Doe picked up the cursed book and started unbinding it curiously.

Lunging for it, Ivy snatched it out of her hands.

In a panic, she fumbled to make sure it didn't fly open, tightening the cords before holding it compact against her racing heart. Only when she'd been clutching it long enough to know they weren't about to get sucked into the void did she look at the others. Doe seemed torn between concern and amusement, while Regulus narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously.

"It's my diary," she choked out.

"Ah," Doe gave an understanding smile, putting the remaining items in her bag. "I wouldn't want anybody reading mine either."

The trio got to their feet, Regulus watching Ivy with that obnoxious knowing scepticism.

"I'd better be off," Ivy gave a half-hearted smile and headed down the corridor, careful not to run as fast as she wanted to.

Doe shouted a cheerful farewell after her, and when Ivy rounded the corner, she broke into a panicked sprint.

If she couldn't destroy the book, she needed to find somewhere to hide it and she needed to do it now.

A few corridors down, Ivy slowed to think, heart still thrashing against her ribcage.

It wasn't smart to try hiding the book right then -if she wasn't already breaking curfew, she would be within minutes- but she was so far from the Dungeons that being caught was inevitable. Not to mention, most anyone who found her would probably confiscate the book on authority of suspicious activity.

"This is not good," she told herself through gritted teeth. "This is not fucking good."

Pacing in front of the tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy, she held the book tight to her chest, thinking hard. There had to be somewhere she could hide it without someone easily stumbling across it. She had half a mind to flush it down Moaning Myrtle's toilet and see what happened. If she was lucky, the book would whisk the whinging ghost away. If she was unlucky...

Turning on a heel, she saw someone out of the corner of her eye and nearly jumped out of her skin. Looking sharply over, she found that it was not someone but something. A polished door, which she was certain had not been there a second earlier, had appeared on the wall opposite the tapestry.

Taking a cautious step forward, Ivy pulled on the brass handle. Peering inside, she was dumbfounded at what she discovered. It was a room -or she thought it was a room, as she couldn't see a clear end to the space- with walls and windows higher than those in the Great Hall. Gently bobbing torches cast a surprising amount of light onto the towers of miscellaneous objects, around which were indistinctive, zig-zagging pathways. She could see everything from banned Zonko's products to trophies, weaponry, and almost anything else she could possibly think of.

Gawking in amazement, she was startled to hear Filch's raspy voice murmuring to Mrs. Norris from somewhere down the corridor.

Impulsively throwing herself into the room, she shut the door and backed away until she hit a bookcase, wide-eyed with worry. However, she didn't hear Filch's approaching voice any longer, and after remaining where she was for a good while, she let the tension ease from her shoulders, despite the slightly nauseous feeling that had settled into her stomach.

After a few breaths, she relaxed enough to notice a vague murmuring. Peering around a precarious tower of shimmery bottles, she slowly advanced down the pathway from which the whispers came. Feeling a sharp yank in her gut, Ivy stopped beside a hulking stuffed troll.

Thinking back to Avdima's funeral at Malfoy Manor over the Summer Holidays, she took several curious steps backward, the cursed book still tight against her chest. As anticipated, the tug in her stomach lessened. Each time she stepped forward, the whispers grew louder in her ears and the nearly painful, nearly sick feeling heightened. Each time she stepped back, the effects eased.

Frowning, she continued down the alleyway, every now and then stopping to backtrack and test the results, which remained the same. Ivy halted beside a broken Vanishing Cabinet when the whispers heightened to a deafening degree and the pull in her stomach lurched angrily.

Taking a breath, she looked around for the source of the indecipherable hiss but couldn't see anything distinguishable. Deciding that this was her chance to figure out what was happening to her, she took slow, terrified steps forward. Moving more leisurely made the effects a bit more tolerable.

As she went, she placed the cursed book on a nearby shelf in between two large, distinctive phials containing blue, brightly luminescent liquid.

After another twenty unhurried steps along the path, during which she remained undoubtedly tense, she saw it. A tarnished tiara, which gave off blacker than black ashes, caught her eye for the briefest moment before her vision was overcome.

In a flash, there was a dirt road before her eyes, brightly lit by the sun overhead, as lush hornbeam trees unevenly encased either side of the way. A man was kneeling in the dust, blood dripping from beneath his stained qeleshe. His back was too straight, as though he was being held in place by some invisible force. A familiar voice hissed Avada Kedavra, causing green light to flare. The man's head then hung to the side unnaturally, body remaining erect for a split second before it too crumpled.

The depiction vanished as quickly as it had come, but Ivy was no longer where she last remembered. Instead of being a metre or two away from the crown, she was staring down at the opal-shaped sapphire of the tiara. She was holding the diadem in both hands, furiously bending it out of shape like she had been trying to snap it in two.

Instinctively, she yanked her hands away and the diadem clattered to the stone.

Frozen where she stood, she tried to wrap her mind around what had happened. Her best guess was that the death she'd seen was related to the crown. She had a hunch that it was like the deaths shown to her by Could, in that she was meant to prevent it.

It took her a moment to realise that the whispering and pull in her gut had nearly ceased. The sensations had faded into a calm, underlying feeling. It was similar to how she could see the pitch-black ashes fluttering off of it; they were noticeable but wouldn't command her full attention.

Ivy delicately and hesitantly plucked the tiara from the floor.

Relieved to find that she didn't see another death on contact, she decided that it would be prudent to come back for the diadem another day. While she likely could find a discarded bag somewhere in the mess, the amount of time it might take to locate one didn't appeal to her sore back and somewhat droopy eyes.

Besides, for all she knew, That Which Is Natural and That Which Is Not was hidden in that very room. If she managed to find it, it too would likely be confiscated on her way back to the Slytherin Dormitory.

Confident in her decision to return, Ivy went back to the cursed book and glowing phials, carefully placing the diadem atop the arrangement.

October 7th, 1978

"Should've known that'd be a dead end," Ivy grumbled as they left Professor Binns' office.

"I could've worded it better," Theya admitted as they walked down the empty fourth floor corridor.

Indeed, Binns had taken their question about You-Know-Who rather literally, as he rattled off exactly what he knew about the Dark Lord. This turned out to be dozens of widely known, significantly useless facts such as the year the war started and how the Ministry responded.

"I didn't even wonder whether we could Obliviate a ghost," Ivy shook her head. "Good thing we didn't need to try."

"It's ridiculous that he's allowed to teach," Theya huffed as they descended the Grand Staircase, robes fluttering behind as they went. "If he can't remember what he was talking about midway through a conversation."

"At least he stopped midway through. I was half asleep by the time he reached the events of 1974."

"Dunbittle better be more helpful," she grumbled as they passed the third floor. "Are you sure I should come? You saw how livid she was when I accidentally called her Dungbeetle, I don't think she'll be very keen to talk to me."

"You're coming," Ivy said definitively. "I need backup in case things go badly. And anyway, she likes me."

"That's because you're toady."

"Am not!"

"You offered to polish all her Dark Detectors."

"Yeah, because she's the only Professor who likes me aside from Slughorn. And he just likes me because I'm good at Charms."

"Whatever you say," Theya snickered as they reached the second floor and headed in the direction of the DADA teacher's office. "At least we know she'll be more concise than Binns. I've got mountains of homework I need to get through before I can even think about meeting Severus in Hogsmeade tomorrow. Speaking of which, are you coming?"

"Can't," Ivy pressed her lips together. "Not allowed in Hogsmeade, remember?"

"Still? I thought you were only banned for one weekend."

"Nope, I can't go 'til November."

"Well, I suppose that's what happens when you jinx Mrs. Norris past curfew."

"She bit my ankle – she drew blood! What was I supposed to do?"

"Dunno, but not that. Only thing worse you could've done was kick the poor thing."

"Poor thing? She's a menace! I love cats, but I'd happily-"

Ivy stopped as she noticed that the door to Professor Dunbittle's office was wide open. The older witch had drawn her black hair into a bun, her equally dark eyes scanning over an unravelled roll of parchment atop her desk. Two battered armchairs sat before the desk, the walls decorated with paintings of various Dark creatures. There was a closed door in the left corner of the room that she assumed led to sleeping quarters.

"Fancy seeing you here," Theya rapped on the door cheerfully.

Dunbittle looked up, expression souring upon seeing Theya, though when she spotted Ivy, her face brightened considerably.

"Come in," the Professor smiled. "Come in."

Ivy smirked at Theya as they entered the room and shut the door behind themselves, knowing her mate was none too pleased at being the least liked in the room.

"What can I do for you?" Dunbittle folded her hands atop the roll of parchment.

"Well," Ivy started. "Binns is having us write essays on Dark wizards from the last hundred years. We've already finished the portion about Grindelwald and now we're onto He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. We haven't been able to find much information and figured you might be able to help, being the Defense Professor and all."

"I can recommend a few books," Dumbittle said.

"We've already been through every one that mentions him in the Library," Theya countered.

"I'm sure Professor Binns isn't looking for more than what can be found in the Library."

"The thing is," Ivy said slowly. "All the research made us curious about what might not have been recorded. Do you know anything about You-Know-Who that others might not?"

Dunbittle watched them with shrewd eyes, leaning back in her chair. She analysed them in a way that made Ivy think she had information but was unsure whether she should share. The silence went on long enough that Theya averted her gaze to a painting on their right of a Dementor being repelled by a silvery beaver. Ivy maintained her calm demeanour of a curious academic who eagerly wanted to earn an Outstanding.

"I'm afraid I don't know much more than you do," Dunbittle eventually said. "I've been made aware that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named attended Hogwarts, but I'm unsure of when that was. I'd wager a guess that he was here within the last fifty years, as some colleagues taught him."

Ivy raised her brows in surprise.

"Do you know who taught him?" Theya asked casually.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," the Professor narrowed her eyes a smidge. "And Professor Slughorn."

Relief washed over her at finally having found an avenue for information.

"It's unlikely," Dunbittle added with an edge to her voice. "That they are willing to discuss this matter with you, as I'm sure you both understand what a difficult and delicate subject it is. For that reason, I must request with a degree of firmness that you refrain from sharing this information except in your essays. I'm sure Professor Binns will be impressed with your thirst for knowledge, but I would like to prevent any harassment aimed at my colleagues. If I hear of any, I will be advocating severe punishments for you both. Is that understood?"

"Yes," Ivy and Theya said at the same time.

Dunbittle gave a stern nod, then a slight smile. "Is there anything else I can help you two with?"

"Actually," Theya drew her wand and set it on the desk. "Since I'm here, I was wondering if you might take a look at my wand. It's been performing funny, going off at random. Do you have any idea what could cause that?"

As the Professor leaned forward to examine Theya's wand, Ivy's own slipped from up her sleeve into her hand.

"Obliviate!" Ivy flicked her hazel wand.

Focused on recanting their interaction, green light hit Ivy's favourite Professor square in the chest, causing her to slump unconscious in her chair like she'd fallen asleep.

"Did it work?" Theya's voice trembled as she snatched her wand back.

"I've never cast a Memory Charm before," Ivy chewed her lip. "I think if it didn't work, she'd still be awake."

"I guess," her voice shook and she headed to the door. "We'll just have to wait and see. Let's get out of here."

"I'm sorry," Ivy whispered to Dunbittle's comatose body.

Following Theya, they poked their heads outside to make sure the coast was clear.

As soon as it registered that they were quite alone in the corridor, they shut the door behind themselves and scurried away.

October 30th, 1978

Reading the last line of the letter, Ivy folded the parchment, trying to figure out how she felt about her new correspondent. Placing the letter beside her plate, which mere minutes ago had a mountain of bacon on it, she eyed Regulus contemplatively. He was seated across from her, engrossed in a comic disguised as a book while he absently ate beans on toast. The high windows let in the morning sun, which made his shaggy, shoulder-length black hair shine a little. She noted that his aristocratic features were shared by Narcissa, who had become her favourite, albeit only, correspondent.

"How well do you know Narcissa?" Ivy inquired.

"Huh?" Regulus looked up, eyes shifting like he was coming back to reality.

"Narcissa. How well do you know her?"

"Pretty well. Why?"

"She's charming," Ivy said hesitantly. "Witty, too."

"I've always found her so," he stared at her expectantly.

"This is the fifth letter I've received from her," she elaborated as he put down his pseudo book. "She's been a great comfort, but…"

Ivy looked around to see who was within earshot, surprised when she found that the Great Hall was nearly deserted. Only two Professors were working on their morning meals, one being Dunbittle, who caught her eye and smiled, oblivious to the fact that her memory had been erased weeks prior. Additionally, she only counted eleven students. Ariadne was one of them, but she was seated at the other end of the table, hidden behind a copy of the Daily Prophet.

"But?" Regulus prompted.

"Do you…" She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "Do you think she's like Bellatrix?"

"Not at all. If anything, she's always been more like Andromeda."

"She's the one who married a Muggleborn, right? Got blown off your family tapestry?"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Narcissa wouldn't do something like that, but she'd also never do the things Bellatrix does. I assume the point you're getting at is whether you can trust her?"

Ivy nodded.

"You can't trust her with the things you want to," he said discreetly. "But I think she could be swayed, over time. I mean, you swayed Theya. And me."

"Did I?" She challenged.

Regulus looked solemnly down at his plate. "I think I finally see what you saw. And I want nothing to do with any of it."

Ivy racked her brain for something to say.

"Also," he continued softly, still not looking at her. "I want you to know that I'm sorry for what I said. About you being like Bellatrix."

"I'm a little like her," she admitted bitterly.

"You have similar qualities," Regulus continued to avoid her gaze. "But while she turned them into something vile, you've turned them into something admirable. Something that can change people."

"Who wrote you?" Theya plopped into the seat beside Ivy, making her start. "Most everyone who likes you is currently present."

"Ha ha," she said blandly with a glance at Regulus, who gave her a small, embarrassed smile. "Narcissa wrote to me… Have you written Severus yet?"

"I'm going to this afternoon."

Ivy fiddled with her fingers, hoping Severus would get back to them soon. She wasn't worried about whether he would make her and Theya the Veritaserum, but she was anxious to know the timeline. The sooner he brewed it, the sooner they could slip it into Slughorn's drink and Obliviate him. With any luck, they would gain some much needed information about the Dark Lord.

"Hey."

Doe appeared behind Regulus, tapping him on the shoulder. The Head Girl badge fit nicely with her Ravenclaw uniform and she smiled at the trio.

"We still set to meet during free period?" She asked him. "Thought I'd check since we got that big assignment in Arithmancy. If you want, we could study together after we figure out the stupid Hallowe'en décor stuff."

"Yeah, Doe," Regulus smiled. "For sure."

Ivy and Theya raised a brow at each other.

She was sure they were thinking the same thing, as Theya gave her a knowing look and reassuring nod.

"Great," Doe waved farewell and headed for the Ravenclaw table.

Once she was gone, Theya raised a brow at Regulus. "Doe, huh? You're on a first name basis now?"

"We see each other a lot," he shrugged. "Head duties, you know."

"Mhm," she narrowed her hazel eyes. "You spend a lot of time together, you sure you're not…?"

Ivy had the distinct feeling that Regulus was watching her from the corner of his eye, so she reached down to shuffle around in her school bag, trying to seem disinterested in the conversation.

Reminded of why she was trying to appear unconcerned, Frederick's face barraged into her mind. The wind went right out of her lungs, replaced by a familiar dull ache, as she discerned how disrespectful she was being to his memory. The guilt was torturous, enough that she set to work mentally eviscerating herself for not being a better person.

"Definitely not," Regulus said conclusively.

"Because she's a halfblood?" Theya challenged.

"Like I give a shite about that anymore," Regulus huffed.

Theya grinned ear to ear.

Normally, hearing him say those words would have made Ivy's year. But thinking about Frederick had shot her mood to hell, making her crave a change in subject.

"By the way," Ivy cleared her throat. "Where is everyone? Classes don't start for another half hour and there's barely anyone here."

"Oh," Theya laughed to herself. "Peeves decided to mess with Moaning Myrtle. The Bloody Baron got involved, which attracted all the other ghosts… The second floor is a right mess. Everyone's been watching the Professors try to get a handle on it."

"You didn't think to mention this 'til now?" Regulus made to stand, but right as he did, a flood of students came into the Great Hall and he sank down again, glaring at Theya.

"You would've been too late anyway," she shrugged. "Go back to your comic, I'm sure it's much more interesting."