I forgot how much I loved this chapter until I was going through and editing it.
Fair warning: James and Sirius are total jerks in this chapter...but perhaps a truce will be called soon?
Chapter Seven
The Augurey Predicts That You Are a Git
My morning started off with a pillow thwacking me across the face.
"Wha'?" I jerked awake, finding myself tangled in my sheets, and I struggled to get out. "Who's there?"
"The Bloody Baron," Dorcas said, rolling her eyes. "Get up, Pipes."
I moaned, snuggling back into my pillows. "Why? It's Saturday!"
"Yes, and we said we'd go to Em's practice today?" She said this in a tone that was probably supposed to make me feel dense, but I was so used to it that I barely even noticed.
I sighed, my face still buried in the pillows.
"But it's Saturday," I said feebly, but Dorcas was unmoved.
"Throw on some clothes and meet us down at the pitch. I'll even stop by the Great Hall and nip some food for us to take."
"Superb."
I waited until the dormitory door closed before I rolled onto my back and stared at the scarlet canopy above me.
I hadn't slept a wink all night. The scene in the dungeons with Lupin kept playing over in my head, and it was driving me absolutely starkers. The whole thing had been odd enough, but the twisted reminder of our former friendship had made me antsy and uncomfortable. I'd only managed to get about halfway through my Transfiguration essay before calling it quits and storming off to bed, where I had done nothing but lie awake and dissect our detention together. I was glad I had escaped to my room when I did; I don't know what I would have done if I'd had to see him again so soon after.
The past is the past, I repeated to myself firmly. Get over it.
Only marginally reassured by this thought, I crawled out of bed and got dressed, throwing my hair up in a ponytail instead of dealing with my mass of curls. I grabbed a scarf and made my way into the common room – only seeing a handful of people scattered about since any sane person would still be sleeping in – before exiting through the portrait hole, the Fat Lady grumbling something about losing her beauty sleep behind me.
The sun had already cleared the horizon by the time I made my way outside, turning the sky a watery gold while fluffy clouds scurried past. The air held the faintest hint of frost, a reminder that autumn would be short-lived before winter held Hogwarts in its clutches once more, but I found the chill refreshing, and my steps became livelier as I followed the worn path to the Quidditch pitch.
The field was empty when I entered the stands, and I figured the team was still in the changing rooms as I quickly spotted Dorcas, Becca, Benjy, JJ, and Alfie and went to sit with them. Emmeline and Dom were both on the team, Em since our fourth year and Dom since third, and we always made it a habit to come watch them practice, even if that meant suffering through hours of Potter and Black throwing insults at us as they flew past.
I always wondered how Emmeline put up with being on the same team as them since she associated with me and they probably gave her hell for it, but she reassured me that they usually kept their teasing to a minimum on the pitch; I guess if there was one thing that could make Potter and Black set their berk streak aside, it was Quidditch.
"Ah! The Queen decides to grace us with her presence after all!" JJ said when he saw me, and he made a big show of standing up and bowing. "How delightful! Simply scrumptious, I must say—"
"I'm not a treacle tart, J," I said, rolling my eyes as I plopped myself in between Dorcas and Alfie. "Now sit down before I jinx you."
"As you wish, milady," he said, bowing again and ducking when I swung at his head.
"Morning, Pipes," Alfie said, handing me a stack of toast that I took gratefully and promptly began eating. "How was detention last night?"
I gave a noncommittal shrug, taking my time chewing to avoid answering. I hadn't told anyone that I had been locked in the dungeons with Lupin; it didn't seem that big a deal, honestly, but a part of me was reluctant to mention it. Maybe I was still wary about Dorcas and her warnings to back off the Marauders. Yes, that had to be it. That was one argument I would gladly not dredge up again.
When Alfie still looked at me curiously (studying me in that creepy way of his, more like), I swallowed my bite and sighed. "Uneventful. I had to scrub cauldrons for two hours in the dungeons – without magic."
He winced. "That's rough. Did Filch let you off early, though? You came back to the common room pretty fast."
I shrugged again, tearing off another bit of toast with my teeth, but Benjy had swung around in his seat to look at us from the row below.
"Filch would probably do anything for Piper now," he said with a devilish grin. "I mean, she did flash him in the boys' loo yesterday."
Despite maintaining an air of nonchalance, I still flushed when everyone turned to me in amazement and incredulity. "How the bloody hell did you find out?"
"Heard Archie laughing about it with his mates last night," he said, and I groaned. With Archie's fat mouth, the whole school was bound to know by lunchtime.
"Piper, you continue to astound me every day," JJ said, a bit dreamily, and I suddenly wanted nothing more than to throw myself off the edge of the stands.
"What'd you flash Filch for?" Becca said, and I scratched at my cheek absentmindedly.
"Well, you see, I really had to use the loo, so I ran in, and Filch thought I was up to something so he came after me, and, well…" I trailed off, waving a dismissive hand. "Unfortunately, Archie was there to witness my plight, so I've already resigned myself to the fate of being rumored to have started a sordid affair with the caretaker." Here I go again, protecting my prat of a brother. Stupid loyalty. I wasn't even a Hufflepuff!
It wasn't that I was embarrassed or ashamed of telling them about Archie and the potion I caught him with, but I was unsure of mentioning it. I didn't know if that had been the first time Archie had ever gotten ahold of a contraband Calming Draught, or if it was a regular thing, and if he was skulking about with Black's Slytherin brother… No, I couldn't tell them. Not until I found out what Archie was up to.
They all laughed at the end of my recount, much to my chagrin. Have I ever mentioned that I have the most terrible, unsympathetic friends? Really, you'd think I was Peter Pettigrew hanging around with the likes of them just for some validation, only to be continuously getting the piss taken out of like the rest of the Marauders did to that poor sod.
Wait a minute. Did I just compare myself to Peter Pettigrew? That was sad.
Ah! Speak of the devil, and he doth appear. Or in this case, Peter Pettigrew, closely followed by (to my dismay) Lupin, and (to my utter dismay) the seventh-year Gryffindor girls. That's a lot of dismay.
The girls obviously saw us sitting near the front of the stands so they kept a few rows behind us, which I could tell they were disgruntled by. Lupin and Pettigrew sat with them, though they kept some space between them and the girls. Not that I could blame them. Evans didn't seem to be in a particularly good mood that morning, as evidenced by her glaring daggers at my head, or maybe it was just me who had that effect on her.
I tried my best to ignore them, but underneath Evans's stare I felt another pair of eyes boring into me, and the hairs on the back of my exposed neck prickled at the sensation.
"Finally," Dorcas said, lounging back in her seat and tossing her hair in a dramatic fashion, making me frown. She only ever did that when she wanted to impress someone. "Here they come."
I followed her gaze down to the pitch, where the Gryffindor team was walking from the changing room, all wearing red and gold practice uniforms and carrying their broomsticks over their shoulders. I spotted Emmeline in the back, struggling to hold both her broomstick and the trunk holding the practice Quaffles, Bludgers, and Snitch, and I guessed Potter was already lording his captaincy over her by making her do grunt work. Prick.
Captain Potter said something to them I couldn't hear, but in a few seconds all seven players had lifted off from the ground, beginning to circle the pitch on their brooms. We cheered and whistled when Emmeline flew past us, waving, and I smiled at how content she looked. She was always so shy, but something about Quidditch brought her out of her shell, and I loved seeing her so happy and carefree.
My smile turned into a grimace when Black raced past, his perfect hair flowing in the wind, and I heard Marlene McKinnon coo behind me, making me want to throw back up my toast. Potter followed him, and he waved to the seventh-years behind us before giving me the finger. Prick.
We watched the practice for an hour, in which time other Gryffindors began to show up and copy what we were doing. I kept my focus on Emmeline, silently cheering every time she blocked a goal, though Potter did manage to sneak one past her at the last second. She seemed frustrated after letting in his shot, but I watched as he hovered next to her on his broomstick, gesticulating wildly and saying something to her, and after he flew off she looked considerably better, a small smile even gracing her features.
I leaned close to Dorcas, about to ask if she had seen the odd exchange, when I noticed that her attention was focused somewhere behind us. I frowned, trying to get a glimpse of what she was looking at, but she turned then and gave me a weird look when she found my face uncomfortably close to hers.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Being nosy," I replied airily, leaning back.
She didn't seem the least bit surprised by this answer, but before I could pester her further, a voice from behind us called out, "Hey, Dorcas!"
I whipped around, my eyes going wide when I saw Mary Macdonald waving to my friend, a bright smile on her face. Dorcas waved back, a slight grin tugging at her lips, and I stared between her and the seventh-year girl, bewildered. I met Evans's gaze for a brief second, and the look in her eyes matched mine, wondering if we were seeing the hierarchy of our world falling apart. Dorcas and Macdonald were not friends. They were not on a first-name basis. What was going on?
"Have you lost your mind?" I hissed as Dorcas returned her attention to the players. "Since when are you such good mates with Macdonald?"
"We're not mates," Dorcas said, keeping her eyes on Dom as he streaked past in a blur of red and gold. "More acquaintances, really."
"You're fraternizing with the enemy!" I protested, and she gave me a dry look.
"Why are you being so dramatic?" she said, a teasing lilt to her voice, but I narrowed my eyes all the same. "It's not a big deal!"
"Like hell it isn't," I muttered. I crossed my arms, glaring out at the pitch, but when she kept her bemused gaze on me I sighed. "When did this…development happen?"
"About a week ago." She seemed wholly unconcerned at admitting this, which further confused and irritated me. "We got trapped in the library after Peeves began pelting people with Dungbombs in the corridor, and we just…started talking. She's not so bad, really. She said she felt rotten for going along with the Marauders all these years and watching them torment us."
I scoffed. "So, what? That makes up for years' worth of animosity? Wasn't she the one who told you not to get too close to her because she didn't want to catch any homosexual tendencies in the third year?"
"She apologized for all her past actions," she said, frowning, "which is more than you've done."
And we're back to the Marauders.
"I don't have to apologize for anything," I said. "Not after all they've done."
Dorcas didn't reply, but when I cast a sidelong glance at her, she was staring moodily out to the goalposts. I was secretly glad to avoid another confrontation with her, but I knew she was only biding her time before she broached the topic again, and I had a gut feeling that it wouldn't be so amicable the next time.
Potter called it quits for the day and the team began to trudge back to the changing rooms, the Gryffindors in the stands dispersing as well. I was still perturbed from my conversation with Dorcas, hardly noticing when Potter made Dom carry the trunk back this time while he walked with Emmeline, apparently continuing whatever conversation they were having near the goalposts earlier.
As I got up to follow my friends back to the castle, I saw Evans again, though this time her eyes were locked on Potter and Emmeline, and I carefully stored this image away in my head before we departed the stands.
I trailed behind everyone else, wrapped in my thoughts, but no one seemed bothered by my absence. I was crossing the courtyard alone when a sudden hand gripped my elbow, and before I could even protest I was whisked away, my spine going stiff when I realized that it was Lupin who had a hold on me.
I said nothing as he led me to the secluded space he had taken me to a couple of weeks ago, when he had warned me of not messing with his precious club, and even though the last thing I wanted was to be alone with him again, I couldn't help appreciating the solitude and quiet the place provided.
"I didn't know you were the dark corners and air-of-mystery type," I said when he released me, though my jab was devoid of any of its usual sting.
"I wanted to speak to you about last night," he said, and when I merely stared at him, he elaborated. "In the dungeons, with the cauldrons—"
"Well, I'm glad you cleared that up. I was worried something else might have happened last night that I couldn't remember."
There was the eye roll I was looking for.
"I meant our…conversation," he said, looking out to the distant mountains as he spoke and making the early morning light throw his face into a wan contrast.
"It was just a conversation, Lupin," I said, tugging on my ponytail awkwardly. "I think we said enough already."
He looked uncomfortable, but there was something almost desperate in his green eyes.
"Just – I…I didn't know," he said, and I raised my brows as he struggled to speak. "I forgot that you knew about my…furry little problem, or whatever you want to call it. I-I guess I tried so hard to put the past behind me that I didn't even realize I had ended up trying to forget everything that much."
"Yeah, well, you're not the only one," I mumbled, not meeting his eyes, and suddenly all I wanted to do was run away screaming. Why was he talking to me about this? All it was doing was stirring a pot of memories I had kept sealed for so long, and no way was I removing that lid.
"You were my friend," he said, and I flinched back as if he had struck me. "And I'm sorry—"
"Don't," I snapped, my anger flaring. I took a step back, and he watched me, his eyes swimming with a thousand memories that I wanted nothing more than to burn.
"You don't get to say sorry. You made your choice, and you've lived beautifully with it for so long. One simple trip down memory lane isn't enough to make up for everything that's been said and done since then. We may have been friends, but we are not now, and we will never be again. So just – stay away from me until you graduate, you hear? I'll be part of your barmy club, but don't pretend like we can chuck everything under the bridge and be fine. I won't do it."
And with that I turned and stomped away before he could see the tears gathering in my eyes.
"You were my friend."
The words came back to taunt him Monday morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he sent his spell whizzing at Peter more forcefully than he meant to, the mousy boy barely able to produce a shield strong enough to deflect it.
"You don't get to say sorry."
He gritted his teeth, flicking his wand and saying the enchantment in his head as his own shield bloomed before him to deflect Peter's futile attempt at a silent Disarming Spell. James and Sirius practiced next to them, both boys attacking and dodging in silence, their technique nearly flawless from so many years spent sparring one another, but the professor was too busy sitting at her desk and reading Witch Weekly to bother awarding them any points.
"You made your choice."
Peter was sweating, his face red from exertion, and normally Remus would have started going easy on him at this point, but his anger was fueling his attacks, making them more rapid and more powerful.
"We may have been friends, but we are not now, and we will never be again."
"I won't do it."
He slashed his wand violently, and there was a flash of light before Peter yelped, suddenly dangling five feet above the class after an invisible force had hoisted him up by his ankle. The class roared with laughter, and Remus flushed.
"Sorry, Pete," he said, muttering the countercurse and letting the boy back down.
"It's fine," the blond boy said, though his face was rather pink as he got up and dusted off his robes. "Let's take a breather, yeah?"
Remus nodded, and he rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably as the class went back to their own spars. The professor hadn't even looked up at the commotion.
"Nice one, Moony." James grinned at him as he and Sirius ambled over to them, but Remus only offered a curt nod in return.
"What flea's in your fur today?" Sirius asked him, smirking. He'd always been notorious for making awful jokes about Remus's lycanthropy, but he'd become unbearable since they had finally achieved their Animagus forms the previous year.
"You continue to dazzle me with your wit, you sly dog," Remus replied, and despite his monotone, Sirius barked out a laugh.
Remus sighed, closing his eyes. "It's nothing. I just didn't sleep well last night."
James looked concerned, dropping his voice to a hush. "Are you still not recovered from last week? That was a pretty nasty moon—"
"No, it's not that," he said, shaking his head. "I just had a lot on my mind."
The other boys all looked sympathetic, but they said nothing as the bell rang to dismiss them from class.
They gathered their things and departed the classroom, making their way down to the Great Hall for lunch. Remus excused himself to the loo before they ate, and he dawdled in the corridor until his friends were out of sight, turning away from the lavatory and beginning to trace the longest route to the Hall in the hopes that in the meantime he would be able to dispel all thoughts of his conversation with Piper Everlark from his head.
He didn't even know why he had felt such an insistent need to seek her out Saturday morning, but their strange encounter in the dungeons had left him rattled. Too many memories had been flooding his brain since then, snapshots of a time he had nearly forgotten, and desperation had driven him to pull her aside and see if she was experiencing any of the same things he was, needing to know if she was going as mad as he was over the exchange. They were supposed to hate each other, after all; reminders of the past were the last thing he wanted, or needed.
"We are not friends."
She'd spat the words at him, but he had seen it; the smallest glimmer of sadness in her eyes, the tiniest sliver of a door he knew led to the same things he was feeling: nostalgia, confusion, anger, hurt, and a buried seed of guilt he hadn't known was there.
He found himself stopped before one of the windows on the third-floor corridor, peering out at the blustery grey afternoon. His shoe scuffed a burn mark on the floor just below the sill, and he started when he realized that he knew where it had come from. Second year – he, James, Sirius, and Peter had gotten the idea to pop off Whizbangs in the corridor during a passing period their first week back at school, although one had been faulty and didn't set off like it was supposed to, instead careening back to the floor, in the precise spot Remus had been standing, unaware that he was about to be burned by an exploding cascade of sparks. Only he hadn't been burned, because a tiny first-year had plowed into him, shoving him roughly out of the way. The Whizbang had hit the floor with a sparkling flourish that made everyone gathered clap wildly, but he had only stared like a gaping idiot at the girl who had shoved him, her wild black hair dyed with a chunky red streak that was a match to the scarlet on her Gryffindor tie.
"Er…thanks," he'd said, still staring at the girl with wide eyes as a thick blanket of smoke began to smother the corridor, sending students rushing off around them.
"You're an idiot," was her only response before she had shouldered her bag and strode away, following the retreating backs of the other students.
"Hey, wait!" She'd stopped walking and turned at the sound of his voice, and he gave her a sheepish grin, scratching the back of his neck. "What's your name, firsty?"
She tracked her eyes over him, a startling blue like robin eggs, and he'd suddenly felt self-conscious, acutely aware of his shabby secondhand robes and too-pale face, the full moon only days away, and he'd turned his cheek when her eyes fastened on the healing scar burrowed into his chin.
"I'm Piper Everlark," she'd finally said, and his eyes snapped back to her face to see a tiny smirk on it. "And you're welcome, by the way."
She nodded her head to the burn mark on the floor that he could already imagine Filch cursing them for, but when he looked up she was already flouncing away, down the same corridor he now stood in five years later.
The memory had resurfaced from some unwelcome place in the back of his mind that he had no desire to ever unleash again, and after casting a dark scowl to the burn mark on the floor, he walked away.
"Why, exactly, are we doing this?"
Dorcas didn't even bother to deign this with a response.
I puffed along after her as we made our way across the grounds, the edge of the Forbidden Forest appearing before us as we crested the small hill that would take us down to the small outdoor classroom where Professor Kettleburn's Care of Magical Creatures lessons were held.
Professor Loon had canceled our Divination class that day, insisting he needed to "rest his Inner Eye" (meaning he'd gotten uproariously drunk at The Three Broomsticks again the night before and was now nursing a nasty hangover), but instead of being normal people and staying in the castle, Dorcas had come up with the brilliant plan to join Becca and Benjy in their Care of Magical Creatures lesson and had dragged me along despite my protests.
"Dor, c'mon. There're way better things we could be doing than crashing Kettleburn's lesson," I said, nearly jogging to keep up with her much longer strides. "Have you forgotten that the nutter hates me?"
Dorcas finally found it acceptable to look at a lowly commoner such as myself, though her expression was skeptical. "Pipes, you've never even had a lesson with him. How is that possible?"
"Remember last year when he got a new wooden leg?"
Dorcas frowned. "Vaguely. Becca said he'd had it imported from Prague because something happened to his old one." She suddenly groaned. "Please tell me you had nothing to do with that."
I winced. "Surprise?"
She shook her head, her golden hair shimmering in the weak autumn light. "How does that even happen?"
"Well, after I jinxed Pettigrew to tap dance in the corridor and put a Body-Bind on Black to lay him in front of the stairs so Pettigrew would trip over him—"
"—Which was dangerous, and something you could've gotten charged with if Pettigrew had fallen," Dorcas broke in, but I waved her off.
"It was the staircase that turned into a slide!" I protested. "I'm not some mad killer!"
"Yet," Dorcas added. "You have expressed homicidal tendencies in the past…"
"You'd be comfortable with the idea of murder too if you had Archie for a brother," I pointed out, and she grimaced.
"Touché," she said, "but continue your thrilling tale."
"Anyway, after McKinnon had caught me before I could finish the deed and Evans had run crying to McG, I was assigned to detention in the Forest with Kettleburn. He had me build this giant bonfire at the tree-line – to ward off any wandering bloodthirsty beasts," I said in a terrible imitation of his deep, grizzled voice that made Dorcas scoff, "but I guess at one point he got tired of wearing his wooden leg and dozed off, and since it was getting dark and I didn't have a lamp, I must've picked it up and chucked it into the pile. I woke him up after I had already started the fire, but by then it was too late. So long peg-leg."
"How you've even made it this far without being expelled is beyond me," Dorcas said in amazement.
I shrugged. "It's not like I intentionally do bad things – most of the time."
"If you at least make it to graduation, I'll be happy."
I wanted to ask if that meant I could still have my way with the Marauders, but we had already reached the small class, and we sidled into the group silently near the back, keeping our heads down.
The class had fewer students than a normal-sized lesson, considering most people dropped the course after their O.W.L.s, which meant that students from every House were in the same class, along with combining both the sixth- and seventh-years, who were either required to take the course or just wanted to have something to fill an elective space. As such, I was annoyed to see a handful of people I'd rather not, among those being Potter, Black, Mary Macdonald, and – shit – Bertram Aubrey. There was also a gaggle of Slytherins who I particularly despised, including Logan Wilkes, Evan Rosier, Corban Yaxley, and Emma Vanity, though I did my best to ignore them.
"Off you git, and don' bother askin' me any damn questions," Kettleburn said from the front of the gathered students, and I waited until he was well out of sight before I followed Dorcas to where Becca and Benjy had taken their place at one of the wooden picnic tables littering the space of trampled grass near the trees.
"Loon went off on another bender," Dorcas was explaining when I parked myself on the bench next to Benjy, "so we thought we'd stop by and learn about some" —she glanced down at Becca's chart on the table— "Augureys."
"Well, you came on the right day," Benjy said cheerfully, whistling as he pulled out his copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them and plonked it on the table, flipping to the chapter on Augureys. "Augureys are amazing creatures; y'know, people actually used to believe that the cry of the Augurey foretold someone's death, but according to Newt Scamander, they actually use their cries to predict rain—"
"Benj, I came here to skive, not actually learn anything," Dorcas said flatly, and Benjy's ears went pink. He began to busy himself with the chart in front of him, and I glared at Dorcas while she chatted with Becca. I knew Benjy had wanted to be a Magizoologist ever since I'd met him, and the bloke was super passionate about it, so I turned to him in interest.
"So, what came first, the Augureys or auguries?" I asked.
He didn't acknowledge what I was doing, but I could see the thanks in his eyes. "That's a bit of a paradox, isn't it? Did the Augurey get its name from the art of auguries, or were the auguries derived from the Augurey itself?"
"You tell me," I said, hiding my smile from his palpable air of eagerness to answer the question.
"I think it's neither, but also both. And I believe it's more of a metaphor than a paradox, really, in that each one was probably inspired or recognized as the other, sort of playing off each other over time."
"One hundred points to Gryffindor, Mr. Fenwick!" I announced dramatically, giving him a round of applause.
"If I wasn't mistaken, Padfoot, I'd say that annoying voice belonged to none other than Pimply."
Potter and Black strolled toward our table, Macdonald trailing uncertainly behind. She looked out of place without one of the other seventh-year Gryffindor girls by her side, but she kept some distance between herself and the two boys, looking like she'd rather not be there.
"Ah, I was wondering where that stench was coming from," I said. "I'm surprised flies don't follow wherever you go, Potter, considering you're a living, breathing asshole."
"Come here to catch up with dear Aubrey, love?" said Black with false sweetness. "Sorry to say, but he's off the market now; dating some sixth-year Hufflepuff, I heard. Though maybe he'll be available again when it comes time for you to pass all your N.E.W.T.s."
"Do you know what an Augurey is, Black?" I said, holding up Benjy's chart. "They're supposed to predict weather forecasts, though I'm sure if one were here now, it'd predict you as the world's biggest git and confirm what we've all been thinking for a long time."
"Now, now, Pimply, is that any way to talk to someone who used to be your best mate?" Potter said, and I froze after sharing a grin with Benjy, my lips locking in the gesture.
Slowly, I turned to face Potter again. "Sorry?" I said, even though I knew exactly what he was referring to. My stomach squirmed uncomfortably when he gave me a wicked smirk, Black's expression mirroring his.
"You heard me, Pimply," he said, seeing right through my act of nonchalance. "You thought we wouldn't piece together what went on between you and Remus in the dungeons on Friday?"
"What the hell is he on about?" Becca demanded, and I winced when I felt my friends' gazes pinned to me.
"Nothing," I ground out, fixing Potter and Black with the darkest glower I could conjure, but their glee only seemed to grow.
"Aw, don't you remember the good ol' days, Freak? I know you do, Amazon."
Dorcas and Becca now looked highly uncomfortable, while Benjy stared in bewilderment.
"Potter," I said, trying to keep the pleading edge out of my voice. "Don't."
"C'mon, Pimply, our second year? When you were nothing but an ickle firsty?" Black taunted. "You, me, James, Remus, Peter. The best mates Hogwarts had ever seen. Thick as thieves."
"That's over," I managed to get out. "Now piss off."
"That's not what Remus thinks," said Potter waspishly. "I think you need to be the one to piss off, Pimply. Stop playing with his head."
"I'm not doing anything!" I cried. "He's the deluded one who keeps trying to bring up the past!"
"Just stay away from him, Pimply," Black warned, his grey eyes cold. "All you do is bring trouble."
"That's rich, coming from you," I spat, suddenly furious. I was so sick of everyone blaming me for everything. "Why don't you try ignoring me and my mates for a change instead of making our lives so miserable?"
Black's sneer would have been enough to deter anyone at that point, but I'd been on the receiving end of it so many times it barely fazed me. "We wouldn't have to keep putting you in your place if you'd just stop being a whiny, pathetic little brat."
I sprung to my feet, ripping my arm out of Benjy's grasp when he tried to pull me back.
"Screw you, Black," I said savagely. "Just because everyone else is expected to treat you like royalty doesn't mean that I have to sit back and kiss your ass like your mummy does when she wipes it for you—"
"Back off, Everlark!" Potter said, shoving in front of Sirius when his hand dipped dangerously for the wand in his pocket. I hardly cared that we were beginning to attract the attention of the rest of the class while Kettleburn was mysteriously absent; I had never been angrier. Who did they think they were, talking to me like this as if everything was my fault?
"Don't tell me what to do, Potter!" I snapped. "If Black wants to have a go then he'll get one!"
"Stop being such an immature prat and sod off," Potter said, scowling. "You wonder why everyone hates you and then you go around doing shit like this and call yourself the victim when people turn on you and call you out for what you really are: a bitch."
Red tinted the edges of my vision, and before I could even process it, my body was already moving forward. I slammed into Potter, tackling him to the ground, and for a few seconds my world was nothing but a blur of yellowed grass scratching against my skin, the grey sky above, and Potter's flailing body beneath me as we rolled over and over, not exactly hitting each other, but rather attempting to crush the other with our body weight alone; which wasn't exactly a fair fight, considering how small I was, but damn Potter if he thought he was going to humiliate me like that.
A sudden blast made us spring apart, and I landed with a hard thud on the ground some distance away, scrambling to my feet as Potter did the same, his hair wilder than ever and his glasses askew.
I shook my curls out angrily, grass falling out as I did, and reached for my wand, only to have Dorcas point her own at me, and I realized that she had been the one to separate Potter and me.
"Piper," she said, her voice deadly calm. "Let's go."
I stared mutinously at her, my blood still boiling, but her tone left no room for argument. The crowd watching was whispering to each other, casting me disdainful looks, and I grabbed up my bag, doing my best to ignore them as I began to shoulder my way through.
"A shame," a voice drawled behind me, and I recognized the jeering tone of Corban Yaxley. "Things were just getting interesting. Who was your money on, Rosier? The Mudblood or the blood traitor?"
Dorcas didn't even try to stop me as I whirled around and pounced on Yaxley, just as Potter and Black collided with Rosier and Wilkes. Emma Vanity shrieked when I jumped on Yaxley's back, attempting to get him in a headlock, but he was thrashing too much for me to get a solid grip, staggering around and bellowing like a bull as I hung on for dear life.
I glimpsed Potter rolling on the ground again, tangled up with Rosier, though this time his glasses were missing and he was pummeling every inch of the Slytherin he could reach, Rosier attempting to defend himself beneath the furious Gryffindor. Black was circling the mountainous Wilkes, his nose bleeding profusely while Wilkes sported a split lip and an eye that was rapidly swelling. No one seemed keen to jump in and help us, as I spotted Dorcas and Macdonald clutching onto one another apprehensively, Becca standing nearby with her hands clasped over her mouth, and Benjy looking as if Christmas had come early, though he did have the decency to look enraged on my part.
"Gerroff me!" Yaxley grunted, attempting to crush me between him and a tree, but I kicked the back of his knee to make him stumble.
"Fat chance," I said, scratching at his hands when he tried to reach back and grab me, and he cried out (probably more from anger than pain) just as Kettleburn roared, "WHAT IN BLEEDIN' 'ELL IS GOIN' ON HERE?"
Everyone froze, Potter and Rosier still on top of each other in the grass while Wilkes paused mid-swing, Black looking as if he were getting ready to tear the Slytherin to shreds, while I was still on Yaxley's back with his hand bleeding from my nails.
"Class dismissed," Kettleburn rumbled, and there was a flurried frenzy of movement as students grabbed their things and darted off, already clamoring over what had happened.
I slipped off Yaxley's back, throwing the Slytherin one last contemptuous glare before accepting my bag from a silent Becca and starting for the castle, only for Kettleburn to say, "Not you lot."
He was glowering at me, Potter, Black, and the three Slytherin boys, and we grudgingly stayed behind as our respective friends left, not one of us saying a word and not looking each other in the eyes.
"That was a disgustin' display if I ever saw one, an' I've worked 'ere since before your parents were even born," Kettleburn said, spitting on the ground where Potter and Rosier had been a moment before. "All of you will be hearin' from your 'eads of 'ouses later today once I explain what happened, and – why in Merlin's staff are you here?"
The grizzled professor's eyes had fallen on me, and he imperceptibly shifted his wooden leg behind him as I shrugged.
"Got bored," I replied flatly, anger and adrenaline still coursing through me, and though his eyes narrowed, all he said was, "Git outta 'ere before I think about takin' a 'undred points off each of you. Go on; scram."
We didn't stick around long enough for him to make good on his threat, and the three Slytherins trailed behind us by a few paces as we trudged back to the castle in silence. We reached the double doors of the entrance hall, the sounds of lunchtime in the Great Hall floating out to greet us, but I stopped when Potter and Black were no longer beside me, turning to see them standing on the threshold and waiting for the Slytherins, arms crossed.
I marched back to them, about to ask if they wanted to make our punishment worse if they attacked the Slytherins again, but I halted right by Potter's shoulder as he glared out at the three and said, "If you ever call her or anyone else a Mudblood ever again, you'll have me to answer to."
He jerked his head to me when he said it, and I was slightly stunned that he was defending me, even if I was a little miffed about it.
"And if you ever want to find out who would've won, we'll be happy for a rematch," said Black viciously, an almost predatory gleam in his eyes, and I realized then why some people were so intimidated by the two boys.
"And we extend the same courtesy to you," Rosier sneered, his usually perfect hair and immaculate robes in wild disarray and covered in dirt, but he still managed to look just as threatening.
"See you 'round, Gryffindors," Yaxley said, nearly spitting out the word as they brushed past us, Wilkes making sure to slam his shoulder into Black before they retreated to their dungeon common room to lick their wounds, as I imagined, but I knew with a sinking feeling that they would probably already be planning their retaliation against us.
"I can defend myself," I said when they were gone.
I expected Potter to go flying into a rage, but to my shock, he merely glanced me over, a hint of a smirk on his face, and said, "I know."
"C'mon," said Black sullenly, not looking in my direction. "Let's eat before Kettleburn tells Minnie; I'd rather not die on an empty stomach."
