Y'all have a dear friend of mine on Tumblr to thank for this chapter. I had somehow lost only chapter 3 but she still had a PDF of it saved from when the original version was still uploaded to this site. Seriously such a lifesaver. Wow.


Chapter Three

McGonagall is Done with My Shit

I knew I was in for it as soon as I saw Professor McGonagall.

Besides holding the illustrious titles of Deputy Headmistress and Transfiguration professor, she also held the personal one of Scariest Witch Alive in my book. From what I figured, she was somewhere in her late thirties or early forties (I couldn't be entirely sure, though; wizarding folk had a penchant for living longer than regular Muggles—I mean, just look at Professor Dumbledore. The guy looked like he'd been dragged out of a tomb from the fifteenth century, but he was still upright and kicking some serious ass. Wizards, you know?) but her eyes made you feel like she was some all-knowing, mighty and wise being that just really liked doling out detentions.

She was standing in the entrance hall when we first walked through the grand double doors, wearing her customary emerald robes and signature scowl that told me I was already done for. My eyes narrowed at Lily Evans standing some feet behind her shoulder, obviously having just finished relaying my horrible attack upon Black, and she gave me the tiniest of smirks as McGonagall's sharp eyes landed on me.

"Miss Everlark," she called over the clamor of excited students rushing to get into the Great Hall, and I grimaced. "A word before the start-of-term feast, if you'd please."

A lot of curious looks were thrown in my direction from the students in the vicinity, but I ignored them, only nodding at the professor and trying not to turn tail and run away screaming.

"You got this," Dorcas said in a low voice, and Emmeline squeezed my shoulder in reassurance.

"If I don't make it back, write my mum for me," I said. "Tell her I love her. And kick Archie in the 'nads one last time. He's a git."

Becca nodded seriously. "You have our word."

After one last encouraging nod, they stalked into the Great Hall, the other students giving them a wide berth. I swallowed down my fear and headed to where McGonagall waited.

"This way," she said, gesturing for me to follow her down the corridor to where her office was. As many times as I had been there before, I knew I shouldn't be nervous, but something about the way the professor was walking in front of me, not saying anything, unsettled me.

We reached her office and she led me in, where I immediately plopped myself down in one of her velvet armchairs and waited as she sat behind her desk, placing a pair of square-rimmed spectacles on her nose that made her look like Madam Pince, our librarian, except not quite as evil.

"Well, Miss Everlark, I'm sure you know why you're here," she began, her voice somewhat resigned underneath her sternness. "I was just informed by Miss Evans that you had taken it upon yourself to, ah… handle Mr. Black on the train here?"

"I did, Professor," I said, picking at a loose thread on my skirt and not exactly meeting her eyes.

"Well, now, I have already heard Miss Evans's judgement of the situation, and I will be speaking to Mr. Black separately after the feast, so I find it prudent to understand your version of events," she said, staring at me over the rims of her spectacles and making me squirm in my seat.

I told her everything, though, from Black's rude jab at Becca to his insult at me, leaving out the part about how he had accused me of cheating on my O.W.L.s; that was something that didn't need to be shared with a teacher. I finished with telling her how Lupin had blasted my wand out of my hand before the situation got any further, and she pursed her lips when I was done, her face set into an unreadable mask.

"Despite some varying differences, I can agree that your story and Miss Evans's are roughly the same," she said. "However, I will remind you that hexing another student is very deeply frowned upon, Miss Everlark." Like I needed the reminder. Her own frown was enough to go by as she looked at me sternly. "I'm afraid that I will have to give you detention."

I began to nod, having already accepted my fate, when she continued. "Unfortunately, with your record, I feel that such menial tasks as scrubbing bedpans and polishing trophies would continue to have very little effect on you."

My head snapped up. "What do you mean, Professor?"

She sighed, removing her spectacles and lacing her fingers together in front of her.

"You were once a model student, Miss Everlark," she said, and I started at her unexpected statement. "One of the top five in your class, in fact; never late, never absent, homework turned in on time." She stared me down as she talked, and I couldn't help but to feel a little bit guilty.

"Your behavior over the years has become problematic," she continued seriously. "Your marks have slipped—not drastically, but noticeably; you show up late to lessons or not at all; and you seem to have taken on a penchant of bullying other students."

I gaped at her. "What?"

Professor McGonagall frowned as if annoyed I had even stated my disbelief. "You are a teenage girl, Miss Everlark; it is natural to form cliques with other students you identify with. But you, Miss Meadowes, Miss Vance, and Miss Crouch all seem to have a particularly strong bond that fortifies itself on bad behavior."

I listened in stunned silence, not sure how to react. Like, I knew the girls and I weren't the best people out there, but we were loads better than most of those pure-blood-touting Slytherins, weren't we? At least we weren't racist pricks and discriminated against people based on their blood status. I mean, come on; I was a Muggle-born, Becca was a pure-blood, and Dorcas and Emmeline were both half-bloods. We were practically the poster children for blood diversity! We weren't saints, but we weren't awful, either. Unfortunately, Professor McGonagall didn't appear to see it that way, though.

"In addition to a week's worth of writing lines with me, I have decided to utilize some corrective measures that should help you and your attitude in the future," she said, and instantly a tight ball of dread filled my gut. "In order for this to be effective, I must ask you to choose an extracurricular activity outside of your lessons that you will be enrolled in for the rest of this term. This way, you will have an opportunity to work with peers outside of your friend group, and learn valuable skills such as communication and collaboration with your fellow students."

I was speechless. Not only was I getting handed a week's worth of detention, but now Professor McGonagall was making me sign up for a club? Learn valuable skills, my ass. She had to be joking. This was practically unheard of!

"Er…" I struggled to think of an argument that could get me out of this mess without coming off as super disrespectful and whiny, but it was hard. I knew that no amount of flattery was going to work on the strict witch.

"Do you have an objection, Miss Everlark?" she asked, her eyebrows raised dangerously high. "If so, I will be more than happy to up your punishment to a month and let Professor Dumbledore decide what to do about your behavior in the meantime."

I blanched at the mention of the headmaster. Even though everyone knew that Professor Dumbledore was most likely off his rocker, he was still a formidable wizard, and I had no inclination for him to dabble in my affairs. I shook my head wordlessly at Professor McGonagall, and she gave me a thin-lipped smile in return.

"Very well," she said, reaching into her desk and drawing out a slip of parchment paper, which she handed to me. I took the paper and looked down at it, finding a list of all the extracurricular clubs Hogwarts had to offer. "I will not ask you to choose at this very moment, but I expect you to have an activity chosen tomorrow when I see you in my class."

I nodded, numb, not knowing what else to say. Professor McGonagall stood up from her desk, and I did the same, clutching the list in my hands as she gestured me out of the office. "You may return to the feast and join your fellow Housemates. I myself must be present for the Sorting Ceremony that will begin shortly."

We walked in an uncomfortable silence back to the entrance hall, where a cluster of nervous first-years shuffled around waiting for Professor McGonagall. One boy with sleek black hair and a narrow face pointed at me as I walked past, whispering something to another boy standing next to him that caused him to look at me in amazement.

I glared at them as I passed. Luckily, they had the sense to drop their gazes and turn away as I slipped into the Great Hall. The large room was filled with chatter and laughter when I entered, the floating candles casting a golden glow on a warm and welcoming scene as the stars glittered above in the enchanted ceiling. I went mostly unnoticed as I walked down the row separating the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, searching for a sign of my friends, but I could tell I was garnering some attention from the way most of the seventh-year Gryffindors were giving me death glares, and some of the other students cast me disdainful looks. Apparently, the news about my assault on Black had obviously already traveled.

I found the girls sitting near the middle of the table, fortunately far enough away from any hostiles that I didn't have to worry about getting jinxed in the middle of dinner. I knew I was going to have to lie low for a few days, though, if Black's fan club had any say in the matter. Those girls were crazy enough to do just about anything to gain his approval, which often left my friends and me prime targets for their antics over the years.

"She's alive!" Dorcas announced dramatically as I sat down. "What's the damage done this time?"

"A week's worth of lines with McG," I said, and they all made disgusted faces while Becca mimed gagging into her empty goblet.

"Well, that's not too bad," Emmeline said, wrapping a lock of her silky dark hair around her finger. "What's that?"

She pointed to the list McGonagall had given me that was still in my hands. I turned it over and showed them. "The other part of my punishment. Apparently, McGonagall is done with my shit and wants me to take an extracurricular to improve my behavior."

"Blimey," Becca remarked, raising her eyebrows. "That's awful."

"Just join Quidditch," Dorcas said. "Em could probably vouch for you, and you could be a manager for the team or something."

I made a face at this even before Emmeline shook her head quickly.

"There's no way that could happen," she said. "Potter's been made Captain this year; he'd never let her join."

"Of course, he's Captain," Becca groaned, rolling her eyes. "Just something else that will inflate his ego to the size of the Eiffel Tower."

"That's not all," Emmeline said. "Remember how Evans said she made Head Girl?"

"I don't think anyone could forget after how many times she screamed it on the train," I said, wincing, and Dorcas nodded in agreement.

"Well, er, Potter's Head Boy, too," Emmeline said, and if I'd been drinking pumpkin juice right then, I would've spit it out in shock.

"What?" Dorcas exclaimed, outraged. "Is Dumbledore out of his mind?"

"Potter… Head Boy?" Becca said, as if trying to put two-and-two together, and I folded my arms and put my head down on them, groaning.

"This is going to be the worst year ever," I moaned, already imagining the kind of horrors the Marauders would do to me now that Head Boy Potter and Prefect Lupin were working together. I'd be dead before Christmas.

Fortunately, we didn't get to bemoan our fates further, for just then Professor Dumbledore stood up from his chair at the staff table and an instant hush fell over the hall, all eyes expectantly turning to the headmaster.

"Let us begin the Sorting Ceremony!" he announced, and there was a smattering of applause as the great doors opened and the first years began to tramp in, led by Professor McGonagall, who carried the tattered Sorting Hat and a banged-up stool in her hands that she set down at the very front of the hall, facing everyone.

After a few moments, a rip near the brim of the hat opened and a wheezing voice issued from the seam, belting out a song that made the first-years look petrified.

"Oh, you may think me old,

And 'haps I don't see well,

But listen to what you're about to be told!

For I still hear your thoughts clear as a bell!

You may not know where to go,

Your hearts undecided and wary,

But have a seat, don't feel so low!

For I know where you belong, and there's no need to tarry!

Your golden heart may roar for Gryffindor,

Where dwell those with bravery, chivalry, and nerve,

Or perhaps in dear old Hufflepuff,

Where kindness, patience, and hard work are observed!

But let's not forget wise and witty Ravenclaw,

Where learning and drive shape the mind,

And last but not least wily old Slytherin,

Where you might join that ambitious and cunning kind!

So give me a go, let me have a peek,

For undoubtedly I know exactly what you seek!"

The hat finished its song to enthusiastic applause, and when the whistling and clapping faded away, Professor McGonagall unrolled her scroll of names and began the Sorting with "Aviles, Stephanie!"

I tuned out the rest of the Sorting after that, staring at the empty golden plate in front of me and wishing the food would appear already. Those sweets I had eaten on the train seemed like a lifetime away, and I nearly cried when Professor McGonagall read off the last name ("Yarborough, Caden") and Professor Dumbledore stood back up, raising a hand for silence.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" he said, and everyone cheered as he gazed out at us from behind his half-moon spectacles, his silver hair and beard seeming to glow in the candlelight. "Now, before we begin our feast, I have a few words I would like to say: bibble, winklepicker, and oxter! Thank you!"

He sat down again, and immediately food and drink appeared before us. I dug in, ravenous. I thought about what I had told my mum in the station, how Professor Dumbledore would know what to do if anything happened, and I wondered what she would have thought had she just been here to witness his bizarre announcement. I smiled to myself at the thought, quashing down the worry that had appeared when I thought about her alone in the Muggle world and scooping an obscene amount of scalloped potatoes into my mouth instead.

I tried to enjoy the rest of the night, momentarily pushing aside all worries of my mum, my looming punishment, and Sirius Black's revenge on me until tomorrow, when all hell would break loose.


The day was going smoothly. Too smoothly.

I'd been through enough first days at Hogwarts to be used to them by now, but the routine feeling of lessons and reviews wasn't what was making me suspicious. It'd been nearly twenty-four hours, and Sirius Black still hadn't made any attempt to attack, prank, or otherwise maim me in any way, and needless to say, I was pretty on-edge.

Of course, lessons weren't the problem. Since he was a year above me, it was guaranteed we wouldn't have any together, but I still found myself looking over my shoulder and keeping my eyes peeled during walks in the corridors between classes. So far, my luck had held, though I made sure not to get too complacent. I knew from past altercations that Black liked to strike when people were least expecting it, and I wouldn't be caught off my guard… again.

I was sitting at my desk in Transfiguration, doodling on a strip of parchment I had found while I waited for the bell to ring, simultaneously dreading it and wishing for it at the same time. Professor McGonagall had already given us our syllabus for the term, and we had finished our review early, so it was only a matter of time until she called me up to her desk to see which activity I had chosen.

I had made up my mind about which one I was going to do last night before I went to bed, yet for some reason I was still nervous to give her my answer. The thought of actually joining the club was making me antsy, and I hadn't even told her yet! I didn't know how I was going to survive this year, in all honesty. It just seemed like everything was working against me so far.

The sudden noise of a chair scraping to my left made me jump, and I accidentally punched a hole through my parchment paper with my quill. I whirled around into the face of my fellow sixth-year Gryffindor and long-time friend Benjy Fenwick, who gave me a mischievous grin at my reaction.

"Scared I was Black coming to jinx you?" he teased, and I rolled my eyes, crumpling up my parchment and throwing it at him when he laughed.

"Please, Black wouldn't stop at just a jinx," I retorted, leaning back in my seat and crossing my arms. "He'd thoroughly embarrass me first, and then he'd jinx me."

Benjy shrugged, scratching at the blond stubble on his chin that made him look older somehow. "True. Dor told me about McGonagall's punishment." He gestured to the bag hanging off the back of my chair, where the extracurricular list sat at the top. "Have you decided which club to join yet?"

I sighed, bringing out the list and smoothing it on top of my desk as he leaned closer for a better look.

"Wow, I didn't even know they had some of these clubs here," he said, his brows raising. "So, which one'd you pick, Pipes? Gobstones Club or Charms Club?"

"Very funny," I said, giving his shoulder a shove. "I'm not a geek."

"Not anymore," he reminded me, and I gave him a dry look that made him chuckle.

"If you must know, you insufferable git, I chose the Muggle Arts Club," I said, tapping my finger next to the name on the list.

"But aren't you a Muggle-born?" he asked, confused. "Shouldn't you already be familiar with all that stuff?"

I rolled my eyes at his close-mindedness; obviously he couldn't see the genius of my plan yet. "Yes, but that's exactly the point."

When he still looked confused, I sighed, shaking my head and sending my curls flying in every direction. "It'll be a total blow-off. I'll never have to pay attention or even remotely try; I'll just get the hours for showing up, and McG won't hate me anymore for being such a bad student. It's a win-win situation."

Benjy still didn't look convinced. "Yeah, but doesn't she know that you're Muggle-born?"

"Yes, but I already made up an answer for that one," I said before giving Benjy the most wide-eyed, earnest look I could muster. "Of course, Professor, I understand I already come from a dominantly Muggle society, but I would just love to learn how wizards view Muggle art and how they're influenced by it from a magical perspective. Wouldn't it be fascinating?"

Benjy shook his head, letting out a dry laugh. "Merlin, Piper. You are one manipulative bitch."

I shot him a smug smile. "And that's why you love me."

He shook his head again, but he was still grinning. We'd formed an alliance in our third year when the girls and I were beginning to make a reputation for ourselves, and our agreement was that he would proofread all of my Potions essays in exchange for setting him up with a Ravenclaw girl in our class, Rachel Sorenson. The alliance had made us permanent friends in the end, despite Rachel refusing to go out with him and me still flunking my Potions exam, but we'd been good mates ever since.

The bell rang then, and we gathered up our things. I clutched the list tightly in my hands as I waited for the room to clear. Benjy gave me a pat on the back as he walked out with his mates, joining up with Dorcas, Becca, and Emmeline after they had mimed praying for me.

When all the other students were gone, I approached Professor McGonagall's desk and cleared my throat, flipping the paper nervously in my hands. "Professor?"

She looked up from the paper she was reading and set it down when she realized it was me. "Ah, yes, Miss Everlark. What did you decide?"

"I was, er, thinking about Muggle Arts," I said, rushing to explain when her lips pursed. "And I know I'm Muggle-born and all that, but I was thinking about looking at it from a, uh, different perspective. I think it'd be really cool to see how wizards view Muggle Arts from their point of view, and—"

"I think that would be a wonderful idea, Miss Everlark," she said, which surprised me so much that I stopped rambling. "It would certainly be interesting to study the Muggle arts in such an unconventional way. I will be looking forward to hearing about your findings as the term goes on."

"O-of course, Professor," I stammered, still quite taken aback. "Er, when should I start?"

Professor McGonagall rifled around in her desk for a bit before handing me another piece of parchment paper, detailing when the club met and where and all sorts of other things as I nodded respectfully to her. "Thank you, Professor."

"I shall expect you to be punctual and in full attendance for all these meetings," she said, nodding to the paper in my hands. "I will have the student who is running the organization sign off on every meeting you attend and how much participation you give, to be handed in to me at the end of each week, so please do try your best, Miss Everlark."

"Yes, Professor," I said, nodding again. "I'll see you tonight after dinner to get started on those lines, too."

"Very well. I will see you then." She picked up her paper again, which was a clear dismissal, but I only had one more question.

"Professor?" I said, and she waved a hand for me to continue despite not looking up from reading. "Er, who's the student in charge of the club again? So I can let them know I've joined?"

Professor McGonagall looked back up to me, and I swear there was a wicked glint of mischief in her sharp eyes as she said, "Oh, that would be Remus Lupin, dear. And not to worry; I have him in my class next, so I shall inform him then."

I felt the blood drain from my face as she went back to her reading, not even disconcerted at how pale I had gone at her words.

Had I already lamented about how long this year was going to be? Because it felt like it just got a century longer.


Don't knock my Sorting Hat song. As someone with zero rhyming ability, I'm still proud of it.