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Chapter 9: (Hypothetically) Things Fall Apart
A/N: Hey all! Sorry for how long this took, but I had to write it before I could post it. Also, it's unbetad, so my apologies for any spelling/grammar mistakes.
Oh yeah, and if you didn't know, J.K. > Ellie. That's all. Enjoy!
EDIT: It is now betad (by the fabulous Abi [phoenix_tearPatronus]).
Another piece of beauty by Camila @ TDA.
“You slept with James? He’s my boyfriend!” I heard a female voice shriek.
My head snapped up at the noise. I was in the Great Hall after one of the worst Quidditch practices of my life. Since we’re playing Ravenclaw in a month, Al had to completely change our strategy, and we had to learn twenty new plays. All today. And I had to run exactly fifteen laps for general cheek as well as ‘illegal’ hits. Add that on the fact I had gotten three hours of sleep, and I was basically taking a kip on my empty plate. But at that voice . . . everything changed.
I looked at my fellow Slytherins; they were all successfully suppressing their smiles. Our plan was starting to take action.
“Not anymore, Layla. Or should I say-” then the conversation turned ugly, in which a lot of bad, derogatory, and generally mean words were said. Before we knew it the girls were duelling, their friends taking sides, and slowly dragging in more and more Gryffindors. The best part about this was that it was only the tip of the metaphorical iceberg. Wait until they saw what we had in store for them in a few minutes, and the rest of the day. Lottie and Thomas were absent from our table, getting ready to unleash the next part.
In truth, Lottie and Thomas were pure genius. They had found every single chink in the other houses’ armour, and a way to hit every single one, with only a few (more like fifty) necessary objects, spells, schemes, or classified pieces of information.
“James, I thought you loved me!” the first girl managed through her tears, which were black from her make-up.
“Speed it up a little,” Al muttered from beside me. “I didn’t get those photographs, which by the way were disgusting, watching my brother do that-”
“-Or find all those explosives-” I interjected helpfully. Albus nodded.
“-for nothing,” he finished.
“And don’t forget the knickers, or the fairies who bites hurt like hell.” Yes, Al and I were whining like Hufflepuffs. Did we care? No.
We. Were. Tired. (‘Nuff said.)
“Is someone on their-” Piper started, with exaggerated sympathy. I cut her off with a sharp kick to her shin.
“What the hell, Nick?” So it was Albus’s shin I kicked. I really should work on my aim. Unluckily, my trainer flew off, and Albus quickly grabbed it from under the table. “You will never get your trainer back!” he proclaimed dramatically. I shot him a death glare; I was not in the mood.
“Shut it . . . it’s about to get good,” I muttered, turning to the Gryffindor table, but Albus was inspecting my trainer. Its soles were peeling off, and the navy colour was almost unrecognisable under all the dirt and other various stains.
“You need new trainers,” he said distastefully, handing me it back, trying to touch the least amount of it possible, as if it carried some deadly curse. I simply held a finger in the air; I was trying to pay attention for what I knew was coming.
Anyone who’s attentions weren’t on the full out duel at the Gryffindor table were suddenly reverted to the Head table. Where exactly 2,367 fairies (who were quite horny, thanks to Lottie - she thought it would make them more interesting and apparently violent) were swarming the tables, attacking anything and everything in sight. Including our table, but seeing as though Lottie was the one who put exactly 234 hours (or so she said) into training them, it only looked like they were attacking us. This was Rhys’s cue. He let it go on a little longer before bellowing:
“Eieci eos omnes!” And suddenly, the fairies were gone. All that was left was a box, padded with a Hufflepuff bed sheet. Thank Merlin Thomas got that particular object; I had never set foot in the Badger’s den, and planned to keep it that way.
This may all seem highly confusing and random, but Lottie and Thomas’s logic was actually quite clever. You see, because Rhys saved the entire Hogwarts’ population from the fairy bites, which I as previously mentioned hurt like hell, we would gain points. Also, the bed sheet would lead the professors to suspect the Hufflepuffs. Then they would ask the house elves who was mysteriously missing bed sheets, or had asked for more, and they would find that the Hufflepuff’s Quidditch Captain had been missing his bed sheets this morning.
This was after the captain of the Ravenclaw team got into a shouting match with the Hufflepuff captain, and said he would do anything to make them lose. Therefore, Hufflepuff would plot its revenge on Ravenclaw, and would take the first step to the three-way slugfest. (The Gryffindor civil war was needed because they were so bloody far ahead of everyone. And we hate them.)
Yeah. I still couldn’t believe two third years had planned all of this. The Gryffindors were still duelling, if anyone cares, and the professors had finally moved to break it up.
“Who started this?” Longbottom roared, clearly furious at his students. Meanwhile, Professor Zabini, who we all figured would be watching the Gryffindors fall apart with masked glee, materialized at the Slytherin table.
“Did you lot have anything to do with this?” he asked suspiciously, but we all shook our heads, looking confused as to why he’d asked that. Lottie and Thomas had reappeared, but looked as though they had just simply gone to the loo instead of unleashing vicious fairies.
“Pretty interesting, though. Who knew the Gryffindors were so scandalous,” Albus said a little too innocently.
“Yeah, interesting . . .” Professor Zabini replied doubtfully. “Well, strictly hypothetically, if someone put this much care into their prank, they wouldn’t leave their bedsheet lying around. And, hypothetically, since the Gryffindors have suddenly descended into a civil war, wouldn’t it make sense for either the Ravenclaws or Slytherins to have planned this?”
“Those pesky Ravenclaws,” I said, shaking my head. Almost no one could repress a chuckle at that, and even Professor Zabini’s mouth twitched, before he regained control.
“You lot are up to something,” he decided, and was met with more innocent looks. “but I’m pretty sure you’re not going to tell me.” Again, we stared at him as if we were confused, innocent little school-children. Professor Zabini looked highly frustrated at our act. “You lot are really starting to get creepy. None of you are innocent . . . ever.” But then the professor smiled. “Off the record, though, I think your plan, whatever it is, so far has been brilliant. Great planning, Lottie and Thomas.” He nodded his head towards the two third years, looking impressed. “But on the record, you lot could lose some serious points if they found out. Not to mention detentions, probably suspension, maybe expulsion.”
He knew. How did he know? We did everything so secretly; it’s impossible for him to know!
“That’s a shame if whoever did this was caught. I wonder which Ravenclaw had the courage to pull it off,” Flynn lied smoothly.
“Yeah, and with Quidditch, N.E.W.T.’s, and Halloween to plan, not to mention keeping these eejits in line, I know I don’t have time to plan, much less execute something of this magnitude,” Rhys added. Professor Zabini looked irritated.
“You don’t have much work in third year, do you, Lottie?” he asked, and Lottie’s head jerked up, obviously having dozed off.
“I don’t know. I was up really late writing those d- I mean ruddy Charms and Herbology essays,” she said, her real yawn adding to the effect.
“You’re not going to tell me what you’re doing, are you?” he said, crossing his arms in an authoritative manner. “I know you lot are up to something.” He was met with hard looks.
“Well this is just brilliant, isn’t it? My own house is having a mutiny,” he muttered to himself. I glanced at Lottie and Thomas: this was their call. They created it, planned it, and with only a little help, are executing it.
“Hypothetically, if we were planning something, as a professor wouldn’t you have to turn us in?” Lottie asked suspiciously, while simultaneously mocking Professor Zabini.
“Well, hypothetically, I would, unless there was no proof besides the words of two thirteen-year-olds, who said before they were writing essays until the early hours of the morning, and therefore could never have done anything,” he replied, not missing a beat. Lottie smiled.
“Okay, we’re planning something,” she said cheerily. The rest of us groaned, putting our heads in our hands. She wasn’t supposed to fall for it!
“I knew it!” he burst out, sounding oddly like Sherlock Holmes, or that cartoon character, Archie the Auror or something of the sort. “Wait . . . what are you planning?” Lottie opened her mouth to reply, but Thomas covered it.
“We can’t tell you that,” Thomas said seriously, still making sure Lottie kept her ruddy mouth shut. “Bloody hell, she bit me!” he exclaimed, withdrawing his hand.
“Must have learned from Nick,” Al said, at the same time I praised her.
“How did these two ever not kill each other in an epic battle that destroyed half the castle? It’s like they’re polar opposites,” Professor Zabini mused, looking at Al and I, and Piper laughed.
“I always wondered the same thing, but then I realised how violent they were, and it all made sense,” she added, and further statements of agreement arose. Al and I tried to look offended, but we both knew it was true.
“Nick and I aren’t violent. See?” Al defended, before squashing me in a hug, causing me to kick his shin to get free. He’s known me for six years, yet he never learned that I hate hugs. I guess he’s not the brightest Hinkypunk in the swamp. “Ow!” he yelped, and I smirked.
“For someone who loves a genius, you sure are thick. You should know by now how much I hate hugs,” I said simply. Both Al and Piper shot me looks of annoyance. They were clearly in denial about their passionate love. (Oops . . . I might have taken that a little too far)
“Wait . . . Al loves a Ravenclaw?” Professor Zabini asked, giving us an odd look. I burst out laughing while Al’s face was steadily turning a deep red, as was Piper’s. The professor saw this, and a look of recognition spread across his face. “Oh . . .”
“Thank you, Nick, for making this incredibly awkward,” Flynn said sarcastically.
“What can I say? It’s a talent,” I replied. I never backed down.
“Don’t you lot have a rebellion to plan, instead of insinuating Al and Piper’s might-be romance and discussing Nick’s, albeit plentiful, faults?” Professor Zabini asked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
“But, Professor, are you implying that you approve of our hypothetical scheme?” Kenzie asked, aghast. The professor laughed.
“Aren’t you lot supposed to be in class, not sitting here debating whether or not this conversation has all been hypothetical?” he replied.
“I believe you’re avoiding the question, sir,” Alyssa said ever politely.
“Since when have any of you actually called me sir?” he asked, looking highly offended.
“Never, sir,” Al replied immediately.
“Goodbye,” he said irritably, but we were not done.
“Or would you prefer Blaise, sir?” I said cheekily. Professor Zabini just laughed.
Al and I stumbled through our classes, losing a grand total of twenty points between us, but we didn’t care. Everything was going perfectly, though it did surprise me how territorial Gryffindors were with their boyfriends, and how seriously Hogwarts took Quidditch.
Anyways, Al and I were heading back from our second Quidditch practice of the day, Hufflepuff having cancelled theirs because their captain was in detention. We were already late for the time Alyssa had set to plan Halloween, but we stopped when we heard two males getting into a screaming match.
“I DIDN’T DO IT, DAVIES!” James Potter shouted, obviously arguing with the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain.
“THEN WHY DID SHE QUIT?” Ah, so Davies had found out about the relationship between Lewis (beater) of Gryffindor and Skye (his seeker) of Ravenclaw. And how Kenzie had subtly hinted to the Ravenclaw she would eventually have to choose between Quidditch and Lewis.
“I DON’T BLOODY KNOW!” James shot back, and I saw Al was smirking next to me.
“THEN WHO BROKE INTO OUR COMMON ROOM AND COMPLETELY DEFILED IT, AND DESTROYED THREE THOUSAND YEAR OLD BOOKS!” Ah, they knew about that, too. Lottie and Thomas had taken care of destroying Ravenclaw’s common room, because Rhys told them he didn’t Al or I would even have a slim chance of getting the riddle right. He had so much faith in us it was astounding. But at least we were smarter than James; I wasn’t even sure James knew what the word defiled meant.
“I. DIDN’T. DO. IT. IN FACT . . .” James said slowly, before suddenly trailing off, but Al still looked positively gleeful. It wasn’t often that James Sirius Potter completely lost it.
“Watch yourself, Potter,” Davies said ominously, before stalking off. Unfortunately, it was towards the corner Al and I were hiding behind. Needless to say we scampered.
“What do you mean the furniture is on the roof?” I heard a voice ask as Al and I continued making our way to the common room. Why the hell was it always James bloody Potter?
“I don’t know. All I know is that somehow all of it, beds and all, is on the roof!” Al’s cousin Molly replied. Both Al and I and Thomas and Lottie had to do that during lunch, seeing as they had so many students (therefore, a lot of beds). It also helped that Al and I knew where the entrance to the roof was from our many detentions.
“Who would do this?” James asked, livid. “As if we don’t have enough to worry about, with-”
“-your bloody stalkers creating an intra house war?” Molly finished. “Seriously, James, how thick are you? Three of them? At the same time? Even your brother isn’t-”
“I don’t give a damn about my brother. Now who the hell did this?” he asked, obviously still a bit peeved at his little argument with Davies. I instinctively glanced at Al, who looked indifferent, but I knew that somewhere beneath his cool demeanour that actually hurt him. Believe me, from someone who knows, you can get used to being unwanted, but it still hurts a little each time someone confirms it.
“I was getting there, keep your shirt on. When I went up there to check it out, the banner of the lion wasn’t there. In its place was a badger. That means-” but James didn’t let her finish.
“Those ruddy Hufflepuffs,” he replied, looking murderous. Al and I exchanged smiles and high-fives.
We had our three way slugfest. Give it until Halloween and the houses will all be losing to us. And they probably wouldn’t realize a thing.
“Dear Merlin, is it impossible for you two to be on time once in your lives?” Rhys asked as we fell into the common room. I had tripped on the last stair, and seeing as though I was behind Albus, it looked like I’d tackled him. So, Al, thinking it was a competition, tried to pin me down. I rolled away, but Al grabbed my ankle, pulling me back. He was laughing, and so was I (not to mention everyone else in the common room). I struggled and squirmed, and Al let go, so I crawled towards Rhys, Alyssa, and Piper. But then Al pulled me back again, now turning the wrestling match into a race.
“Oi! Stop acting like two-year-olds and get over here!” Alyssa called, and we both stopped, for about two seconds. It was then that Alyssa’s bright red hair made its way over to us. I realized how you would never be able to tell that she and Rhys were related, much less identical, if you didn’t know them. Rhys was tall, tan, and lean, but not scrawny, with dark brown hair to match his bespectacled eyes. Alyssa, on the other hand, was only an inch or two taller than me, and I’m only five four(ish). She had bright red hair and extremely pale skin, but her eyes were the same as Rhys’s.
“But, Alyssa, we’re just having a bit of fun,” Al whined, sitting up.
“Yeah, well, that won’t plan Halloween, will it?” she replied peevishly. I got up and walked over, still smiling, and Al followed. Piper ruffled Al’s hair.
“Good boy,” she cooed, as if she were talking to a dog. Al responded by waggling his tongue. Piper squirmed, and Al said something about dogs licking people. Piper squealed, and Al licked her.
“Why in the name of Slytherin’s bright green boxers did you just lick Piper?” Rhys asked, astounded.
“She called me a dog. Dogs lick people,” Al explained, shrugging. Rhys groaned.
“You lot need to grow up,” he grumbled, but the three of us just grinned impishly.
“Guess what Al and I saw today?” I burst out, changing the subject.
“If it had anything to do with either Ravenclaws, Quidditch, or James Pothead, sorry Al, Potter, then I don’t want to hear it,” Alyssa said tiredly.
“Down, girl,” Rhys said, smirking.
“But it’s good! And it’s not just about those three things; it is to do with the plan!” I exclaimed, and Piper looked impressed.
“You managed to hit all three? That’s impressive,” she remarked.
“Fine, Nick, tell your stupid story,” Alyssa grumbled. And so I did. When I was done, there wasn’t a person there not grinning.
“I can’t believe it. It’s actually working,” Rhys said, glancing at Lottie and Thomas. Thomas was working on an essay while Lottie simply slept. “Who would have thought their elaborate schemes would pay off one day?”
“Not me,” his twin replied, before cursing. “We’re already behind schedule. We need to plan this thing.”
And so we did. We were confident it was going to be brilliant.
No, it was going to be wicked. Geddit? Wicked … Halloween?
Ah well, I was tired.
“You are not falling asleep down here again. The dorm is so creepy when it’s empty,” Piper said, before standing up and walking down the hall to our room. I saw Al’s gaze follow her, but I said nothing. I just followed her.
I just needed to bloody sleep.
* Latin: banish them all
A/N: So . . . what did you think of their scheme? Pretty elaborate, eh?
Oh yeah, and do you want some more Scorpius and Rose interaction within the coming chapters?
What did you think of the little Al/Piper action going on there? Al does crazy things when he's tired. Yet again, so does Nick. :)
I'm not going to bore you anymore with my random questions. Please review, and thanks for reading!