Potterbook | *Started*

Fiona O’Connell | History Of Magic


Fiona sat in the back of her class, textbook open and not paying attention. She sketched little outlines of the Great Hall on a fresh piece of parchment, marking out the little tables for each house. She wrote a quick note to her friends, sitting on both sides of her. You guys go in first, set off the first round. Then I’ll fly in setting some off in Slytherin Colours. Her friends read the note, nodded uncertainly. They loved Fiona, they really did. But sometimes, her crazy schemes got out of hand.

Fiona crossed her arms, looking out the window, towards the lake that shone with the early morning sun. It was the place her parents were supposed to have met. She remembered hearing the story being told over and over when she was younger. To Damien when he went, Isibéal when she went. Fiona laughed out loud.

“Miss O’Dryer, do you have something to add?” Professor Binns called out, interrupting his lesson on some random even in Wizard history.

“Yes, sir” She said smoothly, “can we skip to the part where we leave? I think it would be most interesting.” She raised her eyebrows.

“Five points from Slytherin for your back talk.” Professor Binns announced. Her friends groaned, a chorus of ‘not again,’ and ‘really, Fee?” Fiona shrugged it off and went back to day dreaming.

Bonnie – The Transfiguration Classroom

“WOW BEN. You set it on fire. Real proper fire. I wish I could do that! It’s so exciting! All I’ve done is turn my twig purple, and that’s really boring compared to setting something on fire.”

Ben perked his head up, and stared at her.

“Really?”

“YEAH! How did you do it?!”

“Well, it’s easy when you know how...”

Ben then proceeded to teach Bonnie Incendio. It frustrated her, not being able to actually try it, but then again, she didn’t want a detention. Their twigs lay on the desk, all but forgotten until McGonagall passed by, when they swiftly returned to the twigs.

“Stupid twig. Stupid, spiteful, cunning, nasty little purple twig.”

Frustratedly, Bonnie poked it with her wand, and jumped in surprise when it promptly turned into a purple matchstick.

“What? How did I do that?”

“An excellent question, Miss Wray.”

Bonnie looked up to find Professor McGonagall leaning over her, a look of mild surprise on her face. With a casual flick of her wand, the purple matchstick turned to a non-purple twig, and Professor McGonagall moved on.

Valentina Esparza I Transfiguration

Valentina sat at her desk in transfiguration, staring at her twig. It remained a muddy brown, jagged, long and in all aspects very much a twig. She had already forgotten the incantation, anyway – she hadn’t really been paying all that much attention. She sat there, inspecting her twig, her thoughts entirely elsewhere. Her wand lay somewhat limply in her hand, 13 inches long (about as long as the twig, she mused) light mahogany, sphinx hair. She was a witch.

She was a Gryffindor.

Valentina prodded the twig violently with her wand and a curious transformation came over it. When she touched it cautiously with her finger, it was only to discover that it become of the consistency of jelly. She watched it, not even trying to remember the incantation and deliberately trying to store away the memory of that morning. She was now so very much like her sister, Elle (whom she had been avoiding like the plague ever since she had been sorted into Gryffindor); disowned from her family. She knew they hated her.

The howler had arrived that morning, scarlet and trembling as if it were about to erupt. She had unfastened it from Monteith’s dark leg and stared at it, fearful. She knew what it was; she had heard about howlers, but never held one in her hand before. Unable to truly care, she opened the envelope.

“…just like your filthy Hufflepuff sister! You are no longer our daughter – we refuse to have a daughter such as you! Grow up to be a blood traitor if that is truly what you wish – but you’re not coming back here. We have no room for such a poor excuse of a witch as any Gryffindor would turn out to be. You have been such a disappointment to us, Valentina, ever since the day you were born!”

She had run out of the hall, leaving her breakfast barely touched on the table and the exhausted howler steaming beside it, followed by a slowly uprising tide of hushed whispers and snickers. Only the Gryffindor table had heard, however, and even there things soon returned to how they had been.

Now she sat there at her desk, alone with nobody beside her, staring at the jelly-like twig.

She felt a gentle, brisk tap on her shoulder and turned to see Professor McGonagall standing there, regarding her from behind her square spectacles.

“Miss Esparza,” she said. “It might do you some good to actually try in the lessons – do you even remember the incantation? There are some students who are already proving themselves not to have much of an affinity for transfiguration-“ she glanced over her shoulder at that Ben boy, who had somehow managed to set his twig on fire – “But not a single student who hasn’t even made the effort to try. I want to see a decent effort by the end of the class, please, or I will have to keep you behind for detention.”

She marched away to deal with the flaming twig.

She looked around the classroom. There was that Rockharrow girl – Leopoldina, sitting only a few seats away from her. She was smiling at that moment, and Valentina felt jealousy surging through her. What was it like to be proud, not to be ashamed of whom you were? She would find out, and she would not let on to anybody else even for a moment that she felt otherwise to such an extent.

She thought of her trunk, tucked neatly underneath her bed in the Gryffindor common room, and the book which had lain inside it ever since she had sneaked away from her parents and into Knockturn Alley to obtain it, a heavy weight so full of opportunities.

Introduction to the Dark Arts.

What was this feeling inside her? Guilt, uncertainty? She couldn’t even name it.

Soundlessly, she faced her twig.

Owen | Herbology

The greenhouses were fresh and clear and Owen enjoyed how clean the air felt. The leaves of many plants were beginning to relax into a casual brown after the hot summer. The sun shone faintly through the glass roof as if it couldn't be bothered -- as if autumn was approaching and it needed a rest.

Owen and Matt were working together, as usual, trying to re-pot a small Bubotuber. It should have been a simple job but the two boys were spending so much time whispering to each other that they'd barely got started.

"Oh no," said Matt adamantly. "You are not getting yourself involved in that sort of trouble again. How did you even find out what Fiona is getting up to?"

"This is the perfect opportunity," Owen replied with the famous inspirational Pepperidge glint in his eye. "If I can catch Fiona in the act and disarm her and her cronies then McGonagall will have to admit I've learned my respect for the rules!"

Matt scratched his head. "Wouldn't it be better to report it, then, rather than deal with it yourself?"

"Of course not -- it'll look far more heroic if we save the day."

"I hope by 'we' you don't me 'us'..." Matt muttered. He recalled the other times that Owen's plans had managed to get them both in trouble.

"Of course not," said Owen reassuringly. "We can't let Sae miss out on the action!"

Matt tried to facepalm but his dragon hide gloves were covered in mud and they left a handprint on his face. Owen wondered if he should warn him about it.

"Edmunds! Pepperidge! What are you two up to?" Professor Sprout descended on the pair like a mouldy cabbage falling off a shelf. "Or more accurately," she continued, "what are you up to instead of working?"

Owen switched on his most charming smile. "We were just discussing how much compost these Bubotubers need, Professor."

Professor Sprout grunted and stalked away, muttering something along the lines of "like hell you were". Matt sighed at Owen's typical response.

Owen still had that mischievous glint in his eye. "I think she bought it!"

Alice Potter | Transfiguration classroom

Granted, she hadn't been having a brilliant time trying to transfigure the stick. For some reason, instead of turning into a rock like it was supposed to, it had turned into a big...brown...disfigured...ball. That was the only way Alice knew how to describe the whole thing. A big, brown and disfigured ball. McGonagall wrinkled her nose as she walked past. "I suppose that is fair enough for a first attempt. But dear me, what is that smell?"

Allen giggled, making Alice turn her gold eyes on him in a glare. He coughed, trying to hide his amusement, but it wasn't working. Even Samara was trying not to smile, and Alice prodded the ball; part of it fell of it with one poke. McGonagall decided to take pity on the poor girl and waved her wand over the...thing, turning it back into a stick, before walking off. Alice stared at the stick, mumbling under her breath.

But she didn't have time to try again; suddenly a firey mini-missile launched itself from Ben's desk towards her, catching onto her hair. She stared in disbelief as the fire spread out all over her hair, devouring it like she did her breakfast. "Miss Potter!" Alice looked up, and just as she did, she found herself sopping wet and coughing out water from her mouth; McGonagall had just drenched her in a water spell. "Miss Potter, are you alright?"

"I'll...be...fine..." Alice coughed out. "I...my hair..." While McGonagall had managed to save her, she hadn't done the same for Alice's braid. Most of it was burned away, leaving her with what seemed to be similar to a boy's cut. She could feel several pitiful stares aimed at the back of her head. "It's all burned up..."

"...you may go and see Madam Pomfrey after class. I'm sure she will have something for you, Miss Potter." McGonagall turned away and looked at Ben. "And Fletcher, ten points from Ravenclaw for being reckless. I'll see you tonight for your detention. Am I clear?"

Alice whimpered to herself and slumped onto her desk. Why her out of all people?

Samara | Transfiguration / Hospital Wing:

Samara stared at Alice beside her, wincing. The other girl's hair had burned away, and Samara knew how she felt. She'd hate to have her hair burned up like that, even if it was by accident. She shuddered and gave the other girl a pat on the back. "You heard the Professor," Samara murmured as McGonagall wandered away again. "Maybe Madam Pomfery can help. We should go see her after class ends, right Selwyn?" She glanced towards the other person at their table.

Allen stared back for a moment, quite blankly, before it clicked and he nodded his agreement. Samara smirked and turned back to Alice with a sympathetic smile just as McGonagall announced that the class was dismissed. The trio stood and packed away their stuff (Alice acting rather sulky) and slowly made their way out the class--after waiting for most of the others in the room to leave before them. Samara knew that Alice probably didn't want anyone following them--not that it'd stop people, but at least they'd know about.

"Come on, Potter," Samara muttered, urging the other girl towards the door. "Let's go." She scowled when Alice hesitated, sparing Allen a glance. "Allen," she hissed, "are you going to help or not?" The boy in question merely gazed back at her and Samara sighed. "Boys," she muttered, shaking her head. She abruptly gave Alice a gentle, little shove out the door before sweeping past her and heading off down the hall.

Alice let out a little yelp and when Samara looked back, Allen had joined them. "Did you just use my first name?" he asked, grabbing Alice's arm and dragging her behind him so they all kept up with the other Slytherin girl. Samara frowned at him for a moment.

"Potter is a having a moment and all you can ask is if I used your first name or not?" She scowled at him, and Allen ducked his head. Boys, she thought with a scowl. Typical! Always thinking about themselves. She shook her head and promptly ignored Allen, leading the way back to the hospital wing and, hopefully, Madam Pomfrey.

Ben Fletcher | Transfiguration / Great Hall

Ben quietly packed away his things and gave Professor Morocco a small nod of acknowledgement when she reprimanded him again, taking points off as well. He lifted his bag and sulked out of the room when they were dismissed, even giving Potter what he hoped was a 'sorry I lit your hair on fire' look. He slowed himself so he wasn't near any of the other first years as they made their way to the next class.

Things just weren't going good for him. All of the people he met on the train were in different houses, not that they seemed interested in keeping contact after being sorted. Those three had gotten all cozy though, even bypassing the Slytherin/Gryffindor rivalry, so it couldn't be the Houses that were holding them back. They just didn't care for him. Now any chance of impressing them with his magical powers had gone up in flames. Hehe. Flames. While not entirely appropriate, a well-turned phrase deserved the credit it was due. The only person he really had a possible friendship with was Bonnie.

The biggest problem was being in Ravenclaw. How could the Girl Who Lived possibly be worthy of cunning Slytherin while he was stuck with the kids who studied too much and went bonkers? If she couldn't even ward off a fiery twig, how did she ever defeat...

"HOLY FROGSPAWN MERLIN!" Ben stopped right as those words sprung from his mouth loudly, a bit of accidental magic boosting the volume to an uncomfortable level.

After glancing around for any teachers that could take even more points away from him, he doubled over laughing like he'd just been given the keys to Australia. I just successfully magically assaulted the girl who conquered You Know Who! All he did was give her a wicked scar, I burned a good portion of her hair off! Does that mean I'm stronger than You Know Who? That was the reason the Sorting Hat put him in Ravenclaw! Had he been placed in Slytherin, he would be friends with Potter. She would undoubtedly use her cutesy face to distract him from his goal. The hat could see the greatness in him, wanted its own freedom from being worn by kids one day a year, and gave him an entire house of crazy, and smart, classmates to shape into the perfect public officials for his new world order!

"I'll make you proud, Hat! Potter won't stop me from world conquest!" With that he started half-skipping half-running, giving Bonnie a large smile and thumbs up before disappearing down the hallway and around a corner, thinking about all the things he needed to tell Chaucer.

Alice Potter | Potions, late in the afternoon

It might have been funny how Alice almost looked like a boy if she hadn't come so dangerously close to being burned up herself. Not exactly like a boy, of course; more like a 'pretty boy', a nickname Allen had earned a couple of times from his days in poker. Of course, he never really liked the name--but it suited her terribly, and a few times he thought she was a guy instead of a girl. She turned her head around and caught him staring at her.

"Don't look at me like that..." she whimpered. "I can't help it if I look weird!"

They had been to the hospital ward immediately after class, but Pomfrey said there wasn't much they could do except wait; apparently, Alice already had some magic working on her hair. Samara had patted Alice on the shoulder when they got out. "Don't worry, it'll all grow back soon!"

"I never said you looked weird..." he mumbled, but before she could say anything else, they had arrived at Potions. Samara, once again, took charge and strode in boldly through the front doors; but this time, they were early. The 'cool' professor from yesterday who'd been nice to Alice looked up from a paper to see the three standing in the entrance. His eyes flicked from Alice to Samara...and then to Allen and his Gryffindor badge beside her. His eyebrows twitched a little and he looked back at his papers.

"If you are done gawping, would the three of you please remove yourselves from the entrance and take your seats?" He sounded rather wry--and was that a hint of irritation? "I do not teach students who cannot take my lessons seriously."

Alice glanced at Allen and Samara.

Samara Devereux | Potions:

Samara gazed back at her two companions and shrugged, moving to take a seat. She wasn't surprised when Alice and Selwyn moved to follow her. She was surprised to note that the Professor--Snape, if her memory was correct--was watching them. Samara gave him a wary glance as she took her seat, but he wasn't watching her, per say, or even Allen. He was watching Alice.

"I actually think you look nice with short hair, Alice," Samara said thoughtfully, ignoring the look that was thrown her way. Allen sat on beside Alice this time, putting the other girl in the middle of the desk.

"You did?" Alice asked, and then whimpered. "I still look weird, though!"

Samara sighed and shook her head. Snape was watching Alice closely, frowning slightly. Probably wondering how the whole hair-thing happened, Samara thought, smiling a little.

"I didn't say it looked weird," Allen muttered for the third time since they'd left the hospital wing. Samara shot him a look over Alice's head--which was now resting on her arms and the desk. "What?"

"Shut up, Selwyn," Samara muttered, turning back to face the professor just as a slew of kids streamed into the room. She sighed; it was going to be a long lesson. Especially if the look Snape was giving them was anything to go by.

Ben Fletcher | Potions

Ben was on cloud nine, walking on sunshine, over the moon. Sure, he had detention with that old lady who taught Transfiguration for an entire week and had lost house points on the very first day of class, but aside from that things couldn't be better. With a face-splitting grin, he strut into the Potions class and claimed a seat behind the victim of his pyrotechnic skills.

After pulling his Potions book out, he glanced at Potter noticing her new haircut for the first time. It was actually quite nice. That braid was a huge tease just begging to be yanked on every time he caught a glimpse of it. A small giggle escaped his lips as the epiphany from earlier entered his mind again. Seconds later it was full-blown laughter. I'm awesome!

The man who apparently taught Potions came gliding up to Ben's desk. "Might I ask what you find so hilarious, Mr. ...?"

"Fletcher," Ben grunted through fits of laughter, "sir."

The Professor, Snake was it, waited with a nasty frown for him to continue.

"I burned off Potter's hair! Not even You Know Who could do that, so I must be destined to ascend to world domination!"

Snake's eyes lit up with an intensity that could have very well produced their own heat. "I will not have you speaking so casually about the Dark Lord in my presence Fletcher, nor will I take lightly the assault of students in my house! Detention for three weeks and 25 points from Ravenclaw!"

"Uh, I already have a week with Professor Maniacal, sir," Ben gulped.

"Then it seems you have a busy month ahead of you, Fletcher." Snark sneered, swishing around and heading back to the front of the room.

Ben just sat staring off into space until a snippet of earlier conversation crept into his mind. "You know, Potter, Samara is right. May not be the orthodox way of getting your hair cut, but you look really cute with it short like that." He grinned in his own charming, not really charming at all, way.

Allen Selwyn | Potions class

Allen was pretty sure the professor hated him already. The man would look up from the paper he was reading once in a while to glance at the students that had arrived so far, and he'd end at Allen, with a long, malicious look. Allen tugged at his collar uncomfortably, hoping the tension would ease up soon. He glanced at Alice, who still seemed to be sulking about her hair--wait, was that a glint in her eye? And what was all that grinning about? He prodded her. "You seem to be in a good mood."

"I just had a good idea." She hummed, not saying anymore. He prodded her again, only to stop as the professor looked up from his paper to give Allen a long, fulfilling glare. Why was he being singled out?! He slumped in his chair, levelling his head to that of Alice's. She cast a glance at him and went on thinking...about something.

Just then, the class started flooding in. First it was Ben Fletcher, who suddenly started laughing to himself, provoking the potions professor into getting up from his chair. Apparently, Fletcher had earned himself three more weeks of detention and a 25 point reduction from his house; Allen suddenly found himself feeling sorry for Ravenclaw. Losing 25 points this early couldn't be a good sign. The rest of the class came in right after him, that Rockharrow and the Bonnie girl, all of them a chaotic mish-mash of noise. Just then, the professor cleared his throat and glared at the newcomers, and the sound subsided. The professor made a sweeping glance of the room, and scowled.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving in this classroom whatsoever, and if anyone..." Here his dark eyes bored into Ben's. "If anyone wonders whether they can set fire onto a classmate's hair, the door, is right there. This is not--not, I repeat--an exercise in foolishness. Now, then." He paced at the front of the room, his eyes now suddenly turning to Allen. "Selwyn, is it? Tell me...where can I find a bezoar?"

Allen gaped. It was only his first day, how on earth was he supposed to know? He glanced at Alice and Samara, both of whom looked a little nonplussed. He turned back to Snape and gulped. "Um...I don't..."

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" He shot back quickly, not giving Allen any time to recover. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane? You don't know? Pity. Ten points from Gryffindor." Allen kept gaping after Snape moved on, wondering what he'd done wrong. Alice patted him on the shoulder comfortingly.

Allen just knew he was going to hate this class.

Spoiler

I don't know how many times I've written this without being able to post >_>

Matt | Herbology

"She might have bought it," I said, "but what were we supposed to be doing?" In an attempt to *try* and do something right, I tried to get the pus out of the butober. Bubtober. Whatever it was. Bubotuber. Herbology was never my strong point - too much practical stuff for me. What was the point of them anyway? I'd already seen enough buterboers in my life back at home - not that I knew what they were. Apparently they helped out with acne, according to Dad. Not that I had acne. Back before they saw the card tricks.

Oh well. They were all pricks. I didn't give a damn about them. Besides, Hogwarts was my family, where I was accepted, where I could be myself and do what I wanted.

Except Owen thought it was time to do some investigation into Fiona.

"Er," said Owen, taking a sip from his water bottle in his pocket. "I don't know. But it doesn't matter, because after this, we have some free time. Then we can catc--"

I slapped my bubobuter pus-smeared dragon-hide gloves onto my face, shaking my head, before letting it slide over my eye and swinging back to where my arm would normally be.

And then, I felt my eye searing in pain. Burning. Corroding. The pus was slowly eating a hole through my eye, blinding me, burning, scorching-- "AAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHH!"

I roared in pain and twisted around, feeling dizzy. Rubbing my right eye, with my other watering, I glanced off the window and crashed into the benches of bubutobers and toppled to the floor.

"My eyes, my eyes!"

There was complete pandemonium in the greenhouse; some shrieked and pointed, others stood transfixed. I felt a tear slide out of my left eye as my right eye burned. I then saw Owen drawing out his water bottle and flushing my right eye under the water.

And before I knew it, I found myself at the hospital wing, with our Herbology class around me.

I think I had just woken up. Instantly, I reached for my right eye, about to check for rheum on my eyes, but I felt someone grab my hand and pushed it away. "Don't do it again," the voice chuckled.

Sae Carrow - Herbology/Hospital Wing

She was running late. Sae sprinted down the corridor, the sound of her shoes against the stone floor echoing behind her as she hurried from Ancient Runes to Herbology which were coincidentally happening at the same time.

A golden necklace formed of intertwined circles bounced against her chest, and she stuck it into the front of her shirt as she crossed the grass to the greenhouse. She'd miscalculated how far back to turn, something she would have to work on if she would make this double schedule work out. But just as she snuck in through the back door of the greenhouse, the rest of the class rushed out the front.

She peered over shoulders as the crowd dispersed through the door, only to see Matt in the ever so capable arms of Professor Sprout. Except, he was not quite as capable, considering he appeared to be unconscious.

"Oh, dear," she said, pausing to glance around the greenhouse. They had been working with Bubotubers, which contained quite poisonous pollen that ought not to be mixed with one's internal self.

After a moment's rest, she hurried after her class to the hospital wing. She seamlessly worked her way into the concerned group, finding her place beside Owen.

"Where've you been?" he whispered to her as she appeared beside him.

"Hm?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "But I've been here all along."

He watched her suspiciously for a moment before turning his focus back to Matt. "The kid got Bubotuber pollen in his eyes," he said with a slight laugh. "He'll be alright, just a little uncomfortable for a while."

Sae suppressed a giggle as Matt's eyes fluttered open. "W-What happened?" he asked as his eyes focused on the mass of people around him. "D-Did I faint?"

Madam Pomfrey hurried over, ushering most of the group away. "Don't crowd him now, don't crowd him!"

Professor Sprout gathered the rest of the class, ushering them back to the greenhouse, but allowed Owen and Sae to stay in the hospital wing with Matt. Sae sat at the edge of the bed, smiling as Matt's eyes adjusted. "How are we feeling?" she asked with a laugh.

Bonnie | The Potions Classroom

As soon as Bonnie saw the Potions master, she knew that this wasn’t a man to mess with.

But she just couldn’t help herself!

Bonnie did try. She sat still and quiet all through the instructions, though not without fidgeting. Even though a million things to say popped into her head, she kept her mouth shut, determined not to lose Ravenclaw any more points. But of course, it all fell apart when it came to the practical.

Bonnie stared down at her bubbling cauldron. According to her book, it was meant to be perfectly still right now. What had gone wrong? She’s followed all the instructions to the letter!

Maybe she hadn’t added enough eye of newt... Bonnie jogged down to the store cupboards, and grabbed a handful from the bowel.

As Bonnie turned, she noticed Snape leaning over her cauldron, a critical look on his face.

“Oh, no!” she muttered, and frantically made her way back to the cauldron. It was a mad idea, but maybe she could fix it before Snape realised what was wrong...

Just as she was getting near her desk, Bonnie felt her foot hit Allen Selwyn’s chair leg. It threw her off-balance, sending Bonnie flying into Snape, who toppled head first into her cauldron.

Bonnie, clutching her desk for balance, babbled a string of apologies- mostly incoherent. Meanwhile, the cauldron fell on its side, sending its contents all over the floor. Where it met with people’s shoes, it fizzed and burnt into them. Soon, everybody was standing on the chairs and tables, most of them holding their still fizzing shoes at an arm’s length.

Snape pulled his head out of the cauldron, and a wave of gasps rippled throughout the room. Snape’s hair was no longer lank and greasy, as it had been when they entered the room. It was soft. And shiny.

He glared at Bonnie, who was still spouting apologies.

“Twenty-five points from Ravenclaw, Miss Wray. And three weeks of detention.” She stopped talking, and bit her lip. Could her first Potions lesson have gone any worse?

Alice Potter | Leaving the Potions classroom

Obviously, seeing as the Ravenclaw girl--Wray, was it?--had just turned the classroom into an outright disaster, it was impossible to continue the lesson any further. Alice could feel the professor's stare at her back as she left the classroom with Allen and Samara on either side, all of them limping because their shoes had been burned away. Allen was the first to break the silence. "Well, that was an eventful day."

"Too eventful for my taste," Samara mumbled. "We'll have to get our shoes fixed."

"I don't think Snape's eager to do it for us."

"Professor Snape you mean, Selwyn." Alice watched the two of them bicker back and forth as she tapped her chin, thinking of the many evil things to be done to Benjamin Fletcher. She planned to pay him back for burning her hair off; as if transfiguration her stick into a weird thing wasn't enough humiliation! She wrinkled her nose, prompting Allen to shoot a wary glance at her.

"You all right, Alice?"

"Of course she's not!" Samara, or Sammy as Alice had began to think of her, seemed to be picking a fight with the poor boy. But Allen was up to it, and they started bickering again. Alice shut out the noise and began plotting her revenge.

She was definitely going to turn this year on its head.

***

Allen Selwyn | Gryffindor Common Room, one week later

"So, you're definitely joining up for the Duelling Club?" Owen looked hopeful as he put his hands on Allen's shoulders. Allen stared; he wasn't really that optimistic about joining any club, especially seeing his 'condition' wouldn't really allow him to keep a regular schedule. He bit his lip.

"I might not always be able to make it..."

"That's no problem!" Owen looked even more cheerful, if that was possible. "As long as you show up once a month, there's no problem at all!"

"Then...maybe?" Allen tilted his head. "Do you think you could give me a little more time to think things over?"

"Sure!"

Allen was in the Great Hall fifteen minutes later. Just as he was about to make a swerve for the Gryffindor table, he found his shoulders being clapped on for the second time that day. He looked around. "Alice!"

"Come and sit with us, dorkface!"

"I'm not a--!" he protested, but Alice dragged him off towards the Slytherin table anyway. She waved over to Samara, who didn't notice, and plopped down beside the other girl, dragging Allen down with her. Alice's hair had grown back slowly over the last couple of days, and she had tied it back into a braid again. He hadn't really had time to learn about missing her braid, but apparently she had; she kept running her hand over it and cooing at it alternately. Yes, seriously--cooing over it. It was all he could do to keep a straight face.

Samara couldn't do the same, though; she stared at Alice as the latter ran a hand over her braid, again. "You're still doing that?"

Alice stuck out her tongue at the other girl. "Oh, be quiet."

"We have flying lessons today." Allen slumped at the table. "I don't think I'll do well at them."

"Allen, you're so optimistic."

"I know." Allen sighed; he wasn't saying that because he wasn't confident, but more because he wasn't feeling all too well today. This was one of those days; he glanced over at the staff table, and caught the Headmaster's eye. In a single moment, a look of complicity passed between them, something nobody else had noticed--at least, none of the students. Beside the Headmaster, Snape caught his look and glared back, prompting Allen to drop his stare and look over at the girls. Alice was smirking. "You look happy."

"You'll see." She glanced over at the Ravenclaw table, where Ben Fletcher was sitting. "You'll see in a bit."