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Chapter 5: Mischievous Chizpurfles
One week passed since the Godfather prank incident. One whole week passed and all people could talk about was the blithering prank.
I’m not going to deny that the prank was big. I don’t like lying. Putting severed horse toy heads squirting water in not just our dorm, but all the dorms and not just our house but all the houses must’ve been hard. I knew the Marauders were smart but I never really thought they knew magic this advanced.
All of their pranks were always something big; something to make everyone laugh for days, even weeks. Mostly they hanged Gryffindor banners on the walls of the dungeons, or charmed poor Slytherins uniforms scarlet and gold. Sometimes you even saw them hexing Severus Snape’s hair red, it’s never a pretty sight. Also, often, you saw people they don’t like running around with horns, boils, green skin or beaver-like teeth.
But I never saw them do something this unpredictable. Most people didn’t even understand what it was all about. Even professors seemed lost.
For some of the younger years it was quite a fright tough, they woke up in the middle of the night soaking wet. For third year and above it was just a surprise, a very bad one indeed, but nothing scary.
It didn’t make sense. It wasn’t even funny for most people, they were just confused. What was the point of that prank?
I pushed my plate filled with scrambled eggs and bacon away as Frosine was still talking about the cursed prank. I was pleading with my eyes; please just let it go already.
“What does it mean tough? It’s bloody complicated. I think the Marauders are loosing touch.”
“I don’t see that happening anytime soon Frost.” Said Al, smirking slightly with her gaze on the Gryffindor table.
Soon we were all looking at the table I should have been sitting at. Jerome chuckled, while I frowned and the others had an amused expression on their faces.
Joseph Pembroke, who was supposedly their; I mean the Ravenclaw bunch I am hanging out with, was frozen on the spot with horror, boils breaking out all over the poor bloke.
Lily Evans stood right next to the poor bloke, her eyes narrowed and her fists pounded against her thighs. Her enviable, pink lips were pinched together in resentment. I almost wanted to shrink seeing the stink eye she was giving the four blokes.
It shouldn’t be so hard to guess who they are.
Remember after the embarrassing incident with the Marauders on the train, I told you that Lily Evans would be the only one to like me after I wronged the Marauders?
In case you needed any proof to believe that…
Evans then did something that surprised all of us. She let out a shaky laughter with an edge.
“You gormless, arrogant, conceited idiots! Go on; hex every bloke who talks to me. Just wait until I get my hands on you blighter! Potter, for Merlin’s sake, if you do this one more time I swear I’ll castrate you!”
Finishing that rant we were all so familiar with, she did a dramatic exit by spinning on her heel with a huff.
I heard a deep sniff and turned to see Jerome lifting his chin with a big, satisfied smile on his face.
I raised an eyebrow. He avoided me.
“Sure Evans, can’t wait for you to get your hands on me!” Potter joked. Black, who was sitting next to him, laughed his strange bark-like laughter. Lily just kept walking until she reached the door and got out. She probably heard Potter but decided to ignore him. Smart move.
Joseph started making his way towards us, perhaps hoping we would help him. We all shared the same panicked expression because the Marauders were tracking him with their eyes. I looked at the others to see that they looked serene and still a little amused.
Alright then, I was the only one who panicked.
I had the right to, tough. As soon as Joseph sat down and Frosine whipped out her wand to help him with the boils, Sirius Black stood up looking at us. His lips turned upwards to form the shape of that menacing, crazy grin I was so scared of.
My eyes widened in fear before I could tell myself to calm down.
Then something that made me fall in love with McGonagall and her timing happened.
“Mr. Potter, Mr. Black, Mr. Lupin and Mr. Pettigrew,” She called them calmly before shrieking, “My office after classes!”
Of course, even if it was just Potter who did the hexing all his friends were to blame as well. Before you start judging the fairness of Hogwarts staff, remember his friends are the Marauders.
They were going to get detention. They already had so many detentions and it was just nearing the end of our first month in Hogwarts. Those mischievous Chizpurfles!
Merlin, chizpurfles? Sometimes I amuse myself too.
I took it as my chance to escape and quickly telling the still concentrated on Joseph bunch I would see them later I dashed to the huge, wooden doors. Jerome looked a little suspicious and he was looking at me questioningly while I was leaving.
I knew I would have to do some explaining however at the moment I was just happy to be able to get myself out that situation. I mean, can you imagine what the Marauders would do to me after seeing what they did to a bloke they barely knew just because he talked to Evans?
“It’s a date!” I heard Black shout out to McGonagall just as I got out of the Great Hall. Wacky idiot.
I smiled to myself smugly, ignoring the annoying voice in my head telling me once again how I was an awkward Plimpy.
Avoiding the Marauders has nothing to do with my close to none social skills.
I’ve been actually avoiding them the whole week. I’ve been secretive about it since it would be weird for anyone to know that I was avoiding the most beloved bunch in the school for no reason. Besides it would be hard to get anyone to believe that they were trying to kill me.
Except Evans; she would willingly believe it if I told her the Marauders were trying to assassinate the minister. She probably does suspect that anyway.
I should be friends with Evans. We could always bond over our shared grudge.
I chuckled to myself as I thought of Evans as a friend. Not to jinx it but that would never happen. She’s just too perfect to be friends with me. She’s not even snobby and it’s not alright for perfect people to not be snobby, because then they become too perfect. The more perfect a person is, the snobbier they become.
Lily Evans is a paradox and that makes me confused. Also I’m a tiny bit jealous of her. No, not jealous, just envious.
“What’s so entertaining?”
I froze as soon as I heard the deep, amused voice of Richard Davies. I turned around to see him smiling, his hair still the shade of blue I told him I liked.
I pinched my lips tight and blushed scarlet.
“I caught you by surprise, didn’t I?”
Why would that be something to be amused by, you barmy pillock?
Alright, I wasn’t really angry at him. More like angry at my ability to humiliate myself constantly.
“You kind of did Davies.” I smiled, feeling a little more comfortable.
He looked at me with a confused expression, his brows drawing together. He also looked kind of cute in a hurt way. Wait, that isn’t good, is it? Still, he is so cute!
“You can call me by my first name, you know.”
Oh, I guess he forgot that my cat’s name was Richard too. As she hung around for longer than him, she got to keep the name.
“That would be confusing since,” how do you say this without getting too embarrassed? “You share a name with my cat.”
“Guess we should find a solution to that.” He said after a moment, his head tilting to the side.
Actually calling you Davies was a solution, it’s not like you have a surname like Talkalot. Lucinda Talkalot, the new Quidditch Captain of Slytherin, wasn’t as lucky though. If she wasn’t a creepy Slytherin with an attitude, I would pity her. You should count yourself lucky, but you know if you don’t like my solution you can always find a new one.
I should probably stop talking to you- I mean Davies in my head.
“I could call you Dick or Dickie.”
He looked horrified as he shook his head.
“Perhaps you could call your cat another name?”
My eyes widened.
“No, of course I can’t chance his name. He’s too old for that; he had that name for years. I’ll rename you.”
I smiled sweetly and prayed for my sweet smile to not be creepy.
“I had my name for seventeen years but that’s alright.”
I hope that’s not sarcasm young man, because I’ll just keep minding my own business: renaming you. It’s really just a nickname, so dear god, there’s no need to get all hyped up.
“Rick?” I shot.
He shook his head, pursing his lips.
“Sure, that’s so different.”
He thought for a moment before shaking his head.
I went distant for a moment, deep in thought before suggesting another nickname,
He grinned and I felt a little like I was naming Richard once again. Anyway, I was happy that I no longer needed to explain that Richard was the cat.
Later that day, I was in Herbology classroom, squeezed in between Mack and Jenny. I sniffed a couple of times to inhale the scent of dragon dung, which was used as fertilizer.
Jenny sent me a funny look.
Can you blame me for enjoying the smell of dragon dung? Yes, to be honest you can. But I only like the scent when I’m in Herbology; only a little, anyway. People should really stop judging people by the scents they like.
I shook my head trying to get my mind to make sense again. I wonder if it’s the dragon dung making me this nutty. But I doubt I’m high, it’s probably my usual old loony self.
“Who’re you staring at Mack?” Jenny said; a hint of teasing in her voice. “Or should I say, who’re you drooling over?”
My eyebrows shot up to my hairline as Mack blushed and grunted something inaudible. I felt my curiosity growing as huge as a mountain troll. Better satisfy it before it grows into a giant.
“What are you-” I started but as I followed Jenny’s gaze, I gasped.
Blond hair just reaching her shoulders, a black Alice Band not leaving me much to say about her personality and a perfect figure; Mary bleeding McDonald.
“Mack!” I exclaimed, disappointed and surprised. “You could do much better.”
Mack’s eyes widened with disbelief.
During dinner I somehow convinced Jerome to sit with me at the Gryffindor table. You could say I kind of bribed him with the promise of telling him something important. It was an offer he could not refuse. You get the joke, right? If you don’t, you should seriously consider getting your head bit off by a Manticore. I’ve been going on about the Godfather all through the story, people!
I carefully memorized every little detail about the Great Hall, just to avoid Jerome’s eager eyes.
Not because I had nothing to tell him, I could always tell him about Richie. I have no problem sharing stuff like that with him and he doesn’t feel like he should be an insensitive troll just because he is a bloke. He listens when I have something to share with him and I usually don’t have many romantic encounters I have to share but he knew about my crush on Lupin in third year.
What worries me is that two conversations don’t count as anything romantic and I don’t know if I want it to be anything romantic either. I could always ask for advice from him but I would be fudging.
“I think the Marauders are plotting my death.”
Sometimes I just blurt kind-of-private things out like a Jarvey blurting out curses that would make a sailor blush so it’s probably a good thing I have no social skills, therefore no friends I hang out around long enough for them to doubt my mental health. Jerome doesn’t count.
Jer leant in a little with curiosity, his eyes slightly wide and a smirk on his lips. He really shouldn’t smirk, he looks like an Erkling. I am half expecting him to laugh a high-pitched laugh and eat some poor first years, entrancing them with his laughter.
“Sweet Ravenclaw, what are you on about?”
Now that I mentioned it, I should also say how worried I am about the increase in Erkling killings in Germany, their native country. The ministry should learn to control the creatures, but luckily the British Ministry sent some of their own to help them.
I envy them, I want to work with them and this is a big case. Unfortunately, Erkling killings will probably be alleviated enough by the time I graduate.
I’m getting off the point and Jerome is looking impatient.
“I’m not Ravenclaw but thanks for calling me sweet.”
Jer groaned and rolled his eyes.
“Aren’t I just the cutest, sweetest of all.”
Add in the cutest, sweetest smile of all time.
“I didn’t bargain for you being witty. Tell the whole story precious.”
By the time I finished telling him about the malicious grin Sirius Black sent my way, the way they look so dodgy, the prank which he already knew about and all my suspicions he was guffawing. He couldn’t calm himself even after I threatened to scream like a banshee.
After restraining himself only a little, he spoke in between chuckles with an amused and only a little questioning tone to his voice,
“So, let me get this straight, you believe that the Marauders are after you because you called them Fwoopers?”
Alright, I can see why it’s so unbelievable but Jer shouldn’t be so sceptical. Besides he’s an annoying Pogrebin, who is he to talk?
“Well, then how can you explain all that, dearest?”
He faked being in thought.
“I’d say…” He rubbed his cheek. Pillock. “You are imagining things.”
I sighed; annoyed that it was probably true. But it wasn’t unseen for the Marauders to be out for revenge. Besides they had victims all over the school and I yelled at them, calling them a colourful bird where most students could hear.
“Maybe he just wants to bed you and you find his seductive grin, sadistic? I wouldn’t put it past behind you.”
“Sure and there is a Basilisk somewhere in the castle.”
Jer grimaced at the sound coming out of my nose.
“You’re right. No one will like you if you keep doing that, Fannie.”
Why won’t he stop with the nickname already? Do I go around calling him Jerry? He would kill me- wait, no. He would pay someone to kill me, he’s too much of an egghead Ravenclaw to murder someone; he probably wouldn’t want to get caught.
“Why do I hang out around you?” I questioned, for like the millionth time.
Talking about that brings me to the fact that the next day at Potions class I was extremely comfortable not speaking with my partner while we brewed our Wit-Sharpening Potion. Slughorn told us to get imaginative and choose a potion that required wit to brew. I guess both my partner and I possessed a sense of humour.
Caradoc Dearborn, my dear partner- pun intended, seemed to think otherwise.
“So what’s your team?” He broke the comfortable-only-according-to-me silence with a random question, like he did throughout the whole lesson.
Dear Caradoc- the pun isn’t getting old, is it? - I knew you don’t give a Hippogriff dung about my favourite dish but I answered anyway being polite. You don’t have to ask anything to me.
Seriously, I don’t know what people have against silence. It’s not that bad.
“What do you mean?” I asked in confusion, hoping that he wasn’t referring to my sexuality.
He rolled his eyes while he was adding drops of Armadillo Bile to our potion.
“Quidditch team of course.”
I have a dirty mind but hopefully he didn’t understand what I assumed he was asking about. He probably only thought I was an idiot. He wasn’t looking at me so I couldn’t really tell. I eyed the scarab beetles he was throwing in to our cauldron. I hate potion ingredients; dead beetles, wings and eyes of poor creatures.
I realised I had to answer him and I was getting lost in my thoughts again as I was thinking about potions was a subject both cruel and essential.
“Oh it’s,” I stopped to think for a moment, then I realised I really didn’t have an answer to that. So I just decided to tell him any team name I could think of. “the Gryffindor Quidditch team.”
Bollocks. Why couldn’t I just say that it was the Holyhead Harpies or something? Anything but our house team because he obviously wasn’t asking that.
“That’s… interesting. I never knew you were such a proud Gryffindor.”
That’s probably because you don’t know me. But who am I to be rude towards a fellow Gryffindor? Annoying born dear person or not, he is a house mate of mine. I shall be loyal to my house mates; anything else is unacceptable in Gryffindor house. I am only being half sarcastic.
I just smiled uncertainly, not being able to come up with a reasonable thing to say other than; you don’t know me Dearborn. So I settled with not saying anything at all.
He turned to the potion to throw in a portion of ginger. Deciding that I should work more for our potion I grabbed some lovage and threw them in before turning to shot a proud smile at my partner.
I met his eyes wide open with disbelief and fear.
“What- what did you just put in that potion?”
I was going to confidently answer but suddenly our meant-to-be-purple potion started turning darker and browner. The potion was bubbling furiously. Sensing that it was about to turn ugly, I made a move to get up and step away from our cauldron but I was a few seconds too late.
With a loud explosion that I knew made all the heads in the classroom turn to me, the potion soaked my partner and me.
Funny thing; this is the one hundred and twenty eight billionth time I said my partner.
I was sitting on a bed with neat, clean but repulsive white covers, wondering why I found myself in the Hospital wing again.
One last day to go until I finish this month alive; I certainly hope that a Lethifold won’t suddenly decide to attack me in my dream. I don’t fancy being smothered, digested and then disappearing without a trace.
I always bruised myself, fell from trees, broke my limbs or turned up with large gashes. I meddle around in the Forbidden Forest; it is expected for Madam Pomfrey to memorize my name. But I don’t think I ever did it this frequently. Twice a month is too much, even for me.
Merlin, for someone so reckless and clumsy I hate the Hospital Wing too much. Sure, Madam Pomfrey is nice enough, definitely nicer than that vulture in the library; Madam Pince. But the place makes you feel sick even if you’re only visiting a friend. When you’re already hurt or sick, this place makes you feel like you’re dying.
Caradoc was sitting on the bed next to mine with a small smile on his lips. I looked at him questioningly.
“Try not improvising in Potions next time.”
I chuckled half-heartedly. The mistake of me trusting myself too much in a Potions while I usually have a hard time brewing a simple boil cure potion, did really put us through hell. We had to stay in the hospital wing over night, only now in the morning being told that we would be let out after Pomfrey took care of some file business.
The events after the explosion were a blur to me. All I could remember was that I just kept talking and the things I said didn’t even make sense. I’m never laying a hand on a potion again, especially one that could mess up one’s mind when it blows up.
Luckily for us, Madam Pomfrey worked her magic wonderfully to fix the state we were in; acting like drunken pillocks whole with the talking tripe, stumbling and giggling clichés.
Madam Pomfrey came out of her office with a strict look on her face.
In all honesty and not to be a hag but in the looks department she was dull for a woman her age. She wasn’t that old, she was in the age where she should’ve been strikingly beautiful. At least in my mind but perhaps your looks don’t always improve when you grow older. Naff, I was kind of relying on that.
She scolded us for being irresponsible again and Caradoc shot me judging looks. I tried to look guilty but couldn’t because I was too busy being bored out of my mind. At last Madam Pomfrey shot me a strict look at me and shooed us.
Just as I was getting out I crushed into Jerome. Poor bloke did his best of best friend duties flawless over the day I was kept in the Hospital Wing. Even tough my state was nothing major, it was nice to have someone keeping you entertained, only leaving your side for classes and bed time and even getting past curfew a little.
This may be the first and last time I’m saying this but I’m so jammy to have Jerome as my best friend. He’s sensitive and considerate, sometimes more than I am. The best part tough, is that he’s not a bird. Girls are bloody confusing, I know from experience; I am a girl. I could never have a girl best friend.
Merlin, please don’t let me jinx this. I can’t handle a girl.
In my emotional state I wrapped my arms around his waist and hugged him, reliving the times I was too short to wrap my arms around his neck. He grew up too fast, that one.
“Alright you mushy sap, I think you should go back to Pomfrey. You’re definitely not okay.”
Maybe if I had a girl best friend, she would hug me back. But then we would probably sit down and cry. Then we would talk about blokes and make up. Oh, I think I’m fine with Jerome.
I released him and we stepped out of the Hospital Wing. I sent Caradoc, who was stuck behind us while I strangled Jer, an apologetic smile.
“Slughorn told me you two lucky twats don’t have detention but you lost ten points each.”
I groaned while feeling a little relieved. I may like adventure a little too much for my own good but I’m not a trouble maker, I don’t go around getting a dozen of detentions each week. Caradoc and I really were lucky to not have detention and loosing twenty points was not that crucial since it was the beginning of the year and we had a lot of time earning points.
Not to sound conceited, but all I had to do to earn some points was to answer some questions in Care of Magical Creatures. The class was just too easy for someone who had my knowledge on the subject.
Even the seventh years wouldn’t be able to handle half of the creatures dwelling in the Forbidden Forest. I’m not saying that I’m ready to have an encounter with an Acromantula or a werewolf. I’m not that big headed. But I wouldn’t be sent to the Hospital Wing after five minutes of being in the forest.
Besides the Acromantula nest is far deep into the forest, a place where only Hagrid can go and come out- one day I’ll convince him to take me there and there isn’t a werewolf in the Forbidden Forest. Not that I know of anyway and I think Hagrid would tell me about it.
As we opened the doors to the Great Hall to have some breakfast, I suddenly found myself standing alone as Caradoc went off to the direction of the Gryffindor table and Jer was walking over to his friends at the Ravenclaw table.
I grimaced slightly, my eyes travelling between my house’s table and the walking away Jerome. He eventually realised I wasn’t by his side.
“Are you waiting for a written invitation?” He raised an eyebrow.
Not wanting everyone in the Great Hall listening to our conversation I hurried over to him and we walked towards his friends. I, for the second time in those two minutes, grimaced a little, seeing that Frosine wasn’t there.
Al sent me a funny look upon hearing me calling her best friend by her nickname. Excuse me for considering myself your friend. I might as well as not call you Al. I’ll call you Alice. No, better; I’ll call you Fisher.
“Hospital Wing, food poisoning.” She said with an emotionless voice.
“She’s not in the Hospital Wing.” Jerome said. “We just got out of the Hospital Wing.”
I smell something fishy here and it’s not coming from Fisher- pardon the pun.
A/N: I can't wait to get to the part where our Chizpurfles start getting more parts in this story. Sure Frankie is amusing but fellas we're talking about the Marauders here. I wish I could make a tv show; That Marauders Show, Wizard Who, Desperate Witches, Azkaban Break, The Walking Inferi, Everybody Loves Ronald, Two and a Half Wizard, Game of Wands.. Oh I can so go on like this and it would be longer than the chapter. Seriously tough, I love to make or watch a tv show.
So I don't have much to say this chapter. I'll just beg for some reviews then. :) Keep on reading everyone and I'll pray for you if I ever pray at all.