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No Ordinary Nutter by Hedwig_Pie

Format: Novel
Chapters: 19
Word Count: 58,251
Status: WIP

Rating: Mature
Warnings: Strong Language, Mild Violence, Scenes of a Mild Sexual Nature, Contains Slash (Same-Sex Pairing), Substance Use or Abuse, Sensitive Topic/Issue/Theme, Contains Spoilers

Genres: Fluff, Humor, Action/Adventure
Characters: Scorpius, Albus, James (II), Rose, OC
Pairings: James/OC, Rose/Scorpius, OC/OC

First Published: 11/03/2012
Last Chapter: 04/08/2014
Last Updated: 04/08/2014

limitless thanks for a nuttilyamazing banner by clarity. @ tda ! i owe you my firstborn.

Impromtou title of Hogwarts Champion? Check. Blossoming bromance with James Potter? Check. Interest bordering obsession with rubber ducks? Check.

It's no wonder they call me the Nutter.
James Potter/Halle Thomas (Possibly)

Chapter 1: Of Nutters and A Familiar Beginning
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Chapter One: Of Nutters and A Familiar Beginning



Welcome to my first fanfic. If, for some miraculous reason, you find this chappie worthy, feel free to drop a review. Or not. I don’t care.

(I lie. I care. Reviews are nice.)



According to my dad, time is relative.


I bet you want to know why my father thinks time is relative.

Alright, you probably don’t, but I’m going to tell you anyway, since I’m all by my lonesome.

Mr Thomas (aka my father) thinks it’s alright to drop his only daughter to Kings Cross station at the obscenely early hour of 7 O’CLOCK on the 1st of September, where she must wait by herself for FOUR HOURS until her magical red train shows up on a secret platform. IT’S NOT COOL, FATHER. YOU JUST DON’T DO THINGS LIKE THAT.

You probably think I’m on crack right now, which is understandable, since I just talked about magic as if it were real. But it is real. I even have a wand, whose name is Harold. Made of mahogany, twelve inches long with a big ol’ unicorn hair stuffed up its rear end.

I’m also cursed with a smaller-than-average and extremely PMS-prone owl, who is currently amusing himself with biting the ends of my chocolate-brown hair, which is already at its ultimate frizz capacity. There’s no better way than to start your sixth year at Hogwarts with a head of hair that resembles an afro.

‘Larry,’ I snapped, addressing that freaking hyperactive owl, ‘Stop biting my flipping hair! I need it, you know! My hair is precious. I need it to, er, keep my head warm! Cold heads are the worst.’

Not surprisingly, I was greeted by weird stares from the HUNDREDS of Muggles who were passing me by, probably thinking of me as a crazy owl lady.

If I were to die, like right now, on my tombstone it would bear the words: Halle Thomas. Loner & Crazy Owl Lady.

As you’ve probably already discerned, I have a cool life.

Deciding I just couldn’t take it anymore, I jumped up (startling quite a few hobos who were having a morning nap at the train station, you know, as you do) and began hauling my trunk behind me.

‘Stupid trunk,’ I muttered under my breath, ‘Why are my arms so weak?’

‘Need any help with that?’ asked a voice from behind me.

My eyes bugged out, as the voice was deep. Masculine. Definitely male. Dear Merlin, I was not good when it came to boys I didn’t know.

I tried putting on a seductive smile as I turned around, but my face fell short, before breaking out into a huge grin.

‘Jordin!’ I squealed, throwing my arms around him. It earned us a few dirty glares from passing Muggles, but hey, I was going to hug my best friend even if it killed me.

‘Hey, Halle. Good to see you too,’ he said, tightening his arms around my waist before grabbing my trunk, ‘What time did you get dropped off this morning?’

‘Seven! Can you believe the nerve of my father? And you know what his excuse was this time?’ I began ranting. As one of my best friends, it was his duty to put up with my teenage angst rants.

‘What?’ Jordin asked fondly.

‘He said that time was relative! What does that even mean? I’ve been waiting here by myself for three hours, and the train doesn’t leave for another whole sixty minutes!’

He chuckled, ‘Did it ever occur to you that you could have gotten us a carriage on the train instead of waiting out here like a nutter?’

Whoops. I might have forgotten about that. But there was no way I’d admit that to Jordin. I will get that boy for insulting my honour! Frantically wracking my Ravenclaw-brain, I wanted to slap myself when the best I could come up with was, ‘Shut up.’

He broke out into hysterical laughter and leaned casually against the barriers between platforms nine and ten, disappearing amongst the stones. Begrudgingly, I followed him, Larry tweeting annoyingly by my side.


Jordin sped along ahead, mumbling something about procuring us a train carriage. And yes, he was a sixth year Ravenclaw who used the word procuring in a sentence. And it was exactly why I loved him. And I can see your eyes widening in surprise and your eyebrows wagging suggestively. No, I do not love Jordin in that way. It would be like, dating my brother. Jordin was my nerdy, geeky older brother; and unless I wanted to partake in incest, I wouldn’t be dating that fellow anytime soon.

More likely than not, Jordin was probably already nestled in a corner of a carriage, nose tucked away into a book. He really lived up to the stereotype of a book-wormish Ravenclaw.

Not wanting to spend the next hour annoying him while he continued to ignore me and read; I instead wandered around the platform, looking for the remaining third of our trio.

Our trio (also known as the ‘Claw Crew, courtesy of yours truly) consisted of me, Jordin and Elle since the beginning of Hogwarts.

We’ve all been best friends ever since we were squished into the same compartment together on the trip to Hogwarts back in first year.

I, being my strange self, suddenly had the urge to start quoting tales from The Beedle and the Bard. Apparently even as an eleven-year-old I had similar tendencies to a drug dealer. Go figure.

Anyway, both Jordin and Elle joined in, both a little reluctantly, but by the end of the Tale of the Three Brothers, we were laughing so hard it felt like my tummy would explode.

BOOM. Instant friendship. Just like that.

‘Elle!’ I yelled, spotting her mop of blonde hair in the thin crowd easily, ‘You came early this year!’

She smiled and nodded, ‘I came as early as possible, you know, since you’re always here at seven,’ she said, pulling me into a bone-crunching huge.

‘That’s so sweet!’ I beamed; grabbing onto the end of her trunk to help her heave it onto the train. Suddenly and without warning, a very loud, raucous sound poured into the relatively empty platform and I dropped the trunk straight onto my toe.

‘OW! OW! TRUNK ON THE TOE! TRUNK ON THE TOE!’ I yelped, hopping around on one foot, because, you know, I WAS IN UTMOST PAIN.

I glared at the source of the noise; a huge group of at least fifteen wizards who had just toppled through the platform, the majority of them having ginger coloured hair.

It was none other than the Weasley-Potter clan. Or as the cool kids call them, the Wotter clan.

Elle shot me an unsurprised glance, since I may have a slight tendency to drop things onto my toe, and said, with a cynical eyebrow raise, ‘We’re not even at Hogwarts yet and you’ve already injured yourself. Are you alright?’

Argh, I hated it when she did that. I have always lacked the capability to raise my eyebrows in a singular fashion. And it has haunted me ever since everyone in the entire freaking school can do it but me. I can get straight E’s and O’s in my OWL’s, but can I raise an eyebrow?



She grinned, ‘Well I’m going to find Jordin, are you coming?’

I pouted, ‘I’ll go say hi to Albus first,’ I said, waving in the general direction of the Wotter clan, who were hooting and hollering and giving me a headache with their mere presence.

She hugged me once more before bounding onto the train, her blonde hair flying every which-way.


The Wotter clan often came early to the train also, since they were famous and all that shit. The less people on the platform, the less likely they’d be, I dunno, hounded by fangirls from Hogwarts.

Yeah, I know, fangirls are weird.

Al was waving madly at me as I approached, and I even got a smile from Mr I’m-the-boy-who-lived.

‘Hellooooooo Albus! Oh how I’ve missed seeing that darling face of yours!’ I exclaimed, clutching my hand to my heart over-dramatically.

Albus chuckled and embraced me in a hug which rivalled Elle’s in all its bone crushing glory. Me and Al had been pretty tight since fifth year, when we became potions partners. Well, he was in fourth year, I was in fifth year. The crazy little genius was put in the class above him.

Stupid gifted child.

‘Oh Miss Thomas, I have not missed your horrible jokes at all!’ he declared, patting me condescendingly on the head.

Ginny, ahem, Mrs Potter smiled fondly at me. ‘Hello Halle, I haven’t seen you in a while. Your father doing good?’

I returned the smile and nodded, ‘Fantastic. Top of the flop. Tip-top shape and all that,’ I replied.

‘You certainly have a way with words, dear,’ she answered, a smile tugging at her lips before turning back into the frenzy that was the Wotter’s.

I looked at Albus and ruffled his perfectly made hair. ‘See you at Hogwarts; I’ve already come up with some kick-ass Quidditch plays that’ll trash Slytherin.’

Yes, you are speaking to the Head of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, and the best darn seeker since Harry Potter.

At least, that’s what I like to think.

Clearly annoyed, Albus patted his hair back down. Once he was done he gave me a sly grin which meant that he knew something I didn’t. I hated that grin. As a Ravenclaw I felt I had a house duty to know as much as I could.

‘I don’t think the school will have time for Quidditch this year,’ he said, even going so far to give me a cheesy wink.

‘Hell will freeze over before Hogwarts doesn’t have time for Quidditch,’ I answered simply. Because I was right. Quidditch was one of the best things about Hogwarts; they couldn’t just take it away! We actually had a chance at beating Hufflepuff this year!

(Who would have thought that Hufflepuff would become the reigning school champions? Well, with a seeker like Lily Potter, you could expect nothing less.)

Shrugging, Albus hugged me one last time before walking away. I stared questioningly after the boy. Hogwarts always had time for Quidditch.



I slid into the compartment which Jordin had successfully procured and beamed at my friends, ‘Well doesn’t this remind you of old times? Why I do believe it was but five years ago when I started talking to myself in this very train compartment,’ I said, seating myself next to Elle and heaving my legs onto Jordin’s lap.

‘Actually, it was that carriage over there,’ Elle said, immediately picking up on the mistake due to her photographic memory.

I smiled at her, ‘Your memory will never cease to amaze me.’

Just as she was about to reply our compartment door was forced open by none other than Dominique and Freddie. The two Weasley cousins toppled into our carriage, both looking extremely excited and red in the face.

‘And to what do we owe this pleasure?’ asked Elle, a blush ever so slowly spreading to her cheeks. She had it bad for dear old Freddie ever since third year, but has been too chicken to do anything about it. Ravenclaw traits are sadly lacking in the courage factor, so she’d been the epitome of cowardly in any romantic situations with her and her beloved.

In a nutshell; she had no backbone.

Still giggling, the pair sank into the seats, acting a little too giddy to be sober. ‘Are you guys drunk already? We’re not even at school yet!’ I shrieked, slapping Freddie for good measure.

He scowled and rubbed his cheek, ‘The slap was unnecessary.’

I smiled at him, ‘Slapping you is always necessary. Plus it’s fun.’

Dom laughed, ‘We just came to say hi to our favourite Ravenclaws,’ she said, throwing her arms around me in an over-emotional Veela hug.

‘And we wanted to know whether or not you’ve heard,’ Freddie said in a sing-song voice.

‘Heard what?’ asked Jordin, suffering the same anxiety as me, since we both always wanted to know, well everything.

Dom squealed, as she loved to be the bringer of gossip. ‘You guy’s seriously haven’t heard?’

Now I became slightly annoyed. First Al and now these two. What was with these exclusive Wotter’s?

‘Patience. Wearing. Thin.’ I dramatized, pretending to faint onto Freddie.

Fred just rolled his eyes, as he was accustomed to my dramatics, ‘I’ve totally missed you, Halle,’ he said, ruffling my head affectionately. He then tugged on Dominique’s wrist, ‘We shouldn’t spoil the surprise for you.’

‘Wait!’ Elle yelled, clasping onto his wrist, ‘You can’t just introduce a surprise and not tell it. It’s against the law.’ She said, quickly retracting her hand and placing it on her cheek.

Fred raised an amused eyebrow. Curses, can everyone do that but me? ‘What law exactly am I violating?’

‘The law of being a dickhead. I do believe you’re breaking it as we speak with the eyebrow raising,’ replied Elle, a smile on her lips.

‘Well, we don’t want to bother you anymore with my silly old cousin’s dick-headiness. We shall be off!’ proclaimed Dom, squeezing my cheeks as she passed.

‘Ow!’ I complained, rubbing my cheek violently, ‘Love you too Dominique Weasley.’

She sent me a dazzling part-Veela smile as they exited the compartment, ‘Be prepared. This is going to be epic,’ she declared, before giving us a twirl and shutting the door.


Once the train had docked at Hogsmede and one Thestral-powered carriage ride later, Jordin, Elle and I sat around the Ravenclaw table, absolutely immersing ourselves in the famous Hogwarts Feast. The amiable chattering which was spread across the hall ceased to exist as our beloved headmaster, Minerva McGonagall took to the stage.

‘Attention all!’ she cried and everyone’s head’s turned towards the front of the hall. ‘Welcome one and welcome all to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I am Headmaster McGonagall, and I would like to welcome our new recruits,’ she said, brandishing a hand at the first years, ‘And welcome back old faces. How is the feast?’

There was an uproar from the students as we yelled our appreciation of food. Seriously, one day I’m going to find myself a house elf and give it a big ol’ kiss.

She smiled slightly before motioning for us to be quiet again, before an excited twinkle passed behind her eye. Hang on; did McGonagall’s eyes just sparkle? Someone must have put something in the pumpkin juice.

‘I am very pleased to announce, that after much reconciliation, the Wizard World is truly once and for all recovered from, ahem, certain incidents which have occurred in the past.’

A solemn silence seemed to sweep across the hall, with many pairs of eyes speedily darting towards the Wotter’s.

‘Falling back into tradition is what Britain needs right now. And just to prove that things have been recovered up until the point where further fixation would cause further damage, I have some very exciting news to tell you.’

An excited squeal seemed to escape from someone’s lips, and I had a sneaking suspicion it belonged to Dom.

‘To prove to the world that the Ministry has recovered from those horrible events, both the Ministry and Hogwarts have decided to once again hold an esteemed competition. Students of Hogwarts, be prepared as we are going to host,’ there was a dramatic pause as McGonagall took a deep breath.

Immediately I started rattling off possibilities in my head. Were we going to host an Arithmacy Tournament? A Wizarding Duel Competition? A, dare I say it, Spell Off?

‘We will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament!’ she announced, immediately greeted by a silence so intense, I felt like crickets should have been chirping in the background.

Was it just me or did she just say Triwizard Tournament?

Oh, Merlin.

Authors Note:

here is the part where i usually beg for a review. well i shan't do it!
feedback, comments, anything would be lovely! you just tell that little grey box anything that your feeling :)

everything lovely belongs to the mighty jk rowling !

Chapter 2: Of Nutters and a Half-Friendship
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Chapter 2: Of Nutters and a Half-Friendship


Discussion exploded all around the hall, everyone breaking away from their previous shock. My eyes widened as I stated at Elle and Jordin, who looked equally as surprised.

‘The Triwizard Tournament? That’s fucking epic!’ announced Jordin, slamming his fist onto the table.

I nodded eagerly, ‘But I thought it was made illegal after what happened last time. You know the whole resurrection of Voldemort.’

Elle narrowed her eyes at the mention of that name, but then shrugged it off. ‘Who cares? This is freaking hectic. Must have been what Dom and Fred were talking about. Their parents are Ministry-connected after all, they must have known for ages.’

McGonagall cleared her throat and the school once again lapsed into silence, staring expectantly at the old woman waiting patiently.

‘I realise this is a risky move, and a much unexpected one at that. However, we do believe that this is the best way to show the world how Britain has been able to adapt after such horrific events, and of course safety precautions will be put in place.

For those of you unaware, the Triwizard Tournament is a competition in which one champion, and one single champion is chosen from the three competing schools: Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, Durmstrang Instituteand of course, Hogwarts.

I must warn you in advance, if you plan on entering the chosen champions are to, in the words of Albus Dumbledore, stand alone. And believe me, these challenges will require courage and strength, and are not for those easily frightened.

But we will save this for when the other schools arrive, which will be in roughly a month. And after much deliberation, the age limit this year has been reduced, to sixteen and nine months. Do not think you can dodge this age factor, for there is not a wizard on this earth with a confundus charm strong enough.

Be proud, students of Hogwarts, for this is the first time in history that a school has been chosen to the hold the Tournament two consecutive times. But in light of recent events, we have been bestowed, with this!’ McGongall exclaimed, waving her wand.

From the side of the hall a mysteriously shrouded object moved towards the centre of the podium. Once on the ground the sheet of metal surrounding the cup fell to the floor with a deafening clank. And there, in all its mystical and magical glory, was the Goblet of Fire.

‘To enter, simply write your name on a piece of parchment and place it into the cup. Only you can place your name in the cup, so don’t think about asking older students to enter for you,’ she explained, and I suspected she shot a warning glance to the Weasley’s congregated at the Gryffindor table.

Probably thinks it runs in the family or something.

‘I am afraid the Minister was unable to be with us tonight, however he will be present at the Choosing. Just remember, deaths have not been uncommon in the Tournament, and for those unprepared the Tournament can prove deadly. On that happy note off to bed!’ she stated, before waving her hand, causing all the food to disappear.

The hall seemed to leave is some sort of daze, a shock-induced stupor. Did that really just happen? Were we really going to hold the Triwizard Tournament?

I could already hear James Potter from across the hall, boasting about how he was a shoe-in. I rolled my eyes, for someone so closely related to the modest and sweet Albus, how could James be such an arsehole?

He really is an arsehole, if you haven’t met him yet. Seriously, he doesn’t hang with anyone outside the Wotter’s, except for Conner Stevens, his best friend. One time I tried talking to him, but he just rolled his eyes and walked away. Who the fuck does that anyway, I mean at least have the manners to pretend to be interested when a random Ravenclaw starts talking to you about the many interesting qualities of a rubber duck.

Seriously, those things fucking float in water. And they call us wizards.

Out of all the Wotter’s, James was my least favourite, since he was the only one who I wasn’t friends with. Sure, he had groupies and fan clubs that follow him around all day, and he was probably the most popular boy in school, but he didn’t have many friends. Unlike me, I had the entire sixth year at my disposal.

Although those Slytherins didn’t like me much (except Albus)

And most of the Hufflepuffs (Word of advice to all: Hufflepuffs are not ditzy and/or stupid. I learnt that the hard way back in second year.)

And a third of Gryffindor house (I’m a coward and I’ve embraced it. Sue me.)

‘Halle,’ Elle said, snapping her fingers in front of my face, ‘Are you going to enter?’

‘Hm?’ I asked, instantly being brought out of my train of thought, ‘Damn straight. School’s not going to be ready for all of this,’ I said, motioning to my body with a wave of my hand.

But have I mentioned that James is incredibly good looking? Not that I’ve stalked him or anything, but seriously, when you’re a hormone crazed girl who goes to a co-ed boarding school, you tend to notice such things.

Like his abs during a Quidditch game. Yum.

But I know what you’re thinking, you cheeky little bastards. I absolutely do not like James Potter. Not even a little bit. I would be more likely to get sexually involved with a rubber duck than to develop feelings for that boy. I mean, did you not just hear me rant about how about how obnoxious he is? But hey, just because someone’s a shitty person, does not mean they aren’t nice eye candy.

And damn, that boy is fine.

‘Halle!’ Elle said again, snapping her fingers in front my face. ‘Honestly I don’t know how you top your classes, you barely even listen to us,’ she said, shaking her head.

I gave her a smile as we entered our common room, ‘There is a simple reason for that, darling,’ I said, dragging her up to the girl’s dormitories without saying goodbye to Jordin, ‘You just simply aren’t interesting enough for me.’


The next morning, I glanced down at my timetable, instantly cursing the man who invented school. I mean, who comes up with the idea of school? Especially since I’ve got double Potions first. Why do bloody Aurors need Potions anyway? Should have taken Muggle Studies, learnt some more about those amazing rubber ducks.

And pies. I don’t know which muggle invented pies, but Godric someone should give them a medal or something.

Jordin narrowed his eyes and a knowing look spread to his face, ‘You’re thinking about pies again, aren’t you?’ he asked, scooping up some eggs with his fork.

It might, maybe, be a well-known fact that I am absolutely fanatical about pies.

And all things pie related. If there’s pie on the table, there’s pie on my plate.

Mmm, pie.

I shook my head, ‘I’ll have you know I haven’t had one single pie-related thought throughout the whole holidays,’ I vouched, swiping some bacon off his plate.

‘Halle, how can you be thinking of pies at a time like this? We have absolutely no classes together!’ Elle shrieked, frantically comparing our timetables.

An uncomfortable feeling tugged at my stomach, I always had classes with Elle. ‘That can’t be right, we always have class together,’ I tried, looking over for any mistakes she could have possibly made.

Jordin shook his head, ‘You don’t have any classes with me, either. Except for Defence. But that’s it,’

‘Curses,’ I spat, looking venomously along the staff table, blaming each and every one of them for my lack of friends in my classes.

The bell went off, signalling the beginning of Potions. Jordin and Elle both sent me sympathetic looks, but I just sighed and picked up my bag, ‘Time to freak out some strangers!’ I said, making my way towards the dungeons.


As I neared the dungeons I kept an eye out for any of the Wotter’s, since they were practically the only other friends I could put up with for the rest of the year. Dom would be fun to have in class again, but ever since the epic pillow fight we had in Charms, fifth year, we never had another class together again.

I regret nothing.

I scanned the crowd waiting outside the heavy door and there were no familiar faces. I cursed myself again; this year was not going as well as I had hoped.

I curse a lot don’t I?

But then again, I’m a witch!

I’m sorry, that was a horrible joke. I apologize for putting you through that.

I looked at the array of people which my Potions class offered to me. There was a group of Gryffindor girls who I was too afraid to approach, a couple of Slytherin guys and then a motley bunch of loners from Houses everywhere.

Alright, time to choose the poor chap who I sit next to for the remainder of the year. Usually, if I’m all by myself, I pick one friend and then stick to them like glue. I’m not a big fan of change.

Contemplating between Norbert the Nose-Picker (a fellow Ravenclaw) and Sarah Flint (a tolerable Slytherin), I desperately searched for a better candidate.

Due to lack of better options, I sidled over to where James Potter was standing, surrounded by his fans of course.

‘Oh, James! You are soooo going to win the Quidditch Cup this year!’ swooned some random bint who I’ve never seen before. Her voice was so high-pitched, the frequency was great enough to communicate with dogs.

The comment was followed by a dry chuckle from Potter, who sadly must be part of my Potions class. He still had that component of cool, but he looked pretty uncomfortable without his friends.

I bit my lip as I lapsed into deep thought. I don’t like James Potter, he is an arse. He has practically ignored my very existence since the first day of school, even though I’m friends with like all of his family. Seriously, the bastard doesn’t even say hi to me whenever I go to the Potter’s place over the summer. But I don’t want to be alone for the whole year, Potions is bad enough, I don’t want to endure it alone.

So this decision may shock you all, but I decided to try out a little bit of courage -Gryffindor style- and cleared my throat and walked up to him.

He raised an eyebrow as I approached, and pushed himself off the wall. I mean, seriously, can everyone move their eyebrows but me?

‘Before you say anything, I do not think rubber ducks are the solution to the world’s issues,’ he taunted, a sarcastic demeanour practically radiating off his body.

I snorted and turned my back away from him, ‘Well, if you’re just going to be rude,’ I said, retreating to my previous corner.

‘Wait!’ he called, grabbing onto my wrist. OK, that was odd. My heart doesn’t usually beat this fast. And something was happening to my face; I reached out my free hand to feel my cheek. Was that a blush? I wonder what this terrible ailment was called; hope I wasn’t coming down with something bad.

‘That’s better,’ I said smiling at him, and then at the bimbo who was looking thoroughly dejected from being rejected.

God, I am so good at this rhyming thing.

I attempted to raise an eyebrow to him, but gave up after exactly three seconds, ‘So what, Potter. Haven’t got any friends?’ I asked, my tone oozing with fake horror.

He rolled his eyes, now that was something I could do. I was very good at eye rolling. ‘Seems to be the case. Just you and me this year, I guess. Well, you can’t be half bad, Albus goes on about you so much that I practically already know you,’ he said, grabbing my hand again and dragging me into the room.

I have got to say I was surprised by the amount of jealous stares I received. I even got one from Pamela Johnson, who has been in the longest running relationship of our year with Kevin Fields.

Har-de-har-har. I make all the girls jealous.

I seated myself next to Potter as the class started. Godric this was awkward. What am I meant to say to the boy who has completely ignored the fact of my existence since first year? It was times like these where I wish I was normal, but I’ve already told you, I’m a weird bird.

I might as well give him a chance.

‘So, not a duck fan, huh?’ I asked, taking out my copy of Advanced Potion Making.

He smiled. It was a very nice smile; there was a dimple in his left cheek. ‘I never said that. I just don’t like rubber ducks. They’re all yellow and they squeak when you squeeze them. Have you ever met a duck that squeaks?’ he asked.

I couldn’t help it; I stared at him a little weirdly. He just replied my weird comment with an equally weird argument. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all.

‘Can’t say I have,’ I replied, slowly feeling the awkwardness leave.

I’m glad to say, that the remainder of the lesson went really well. I kind of let go some of my resentment towards him, and he let go of his pride. It wasn’t awkward, not even a little bit. Potter was funny, and hot, and smart, and hot, and helpful.

And hot.

But I barely even noticed the hot part.

When the bell rang, immediately releasing us from class, I smiled at James when he picked my bag from the floor for me.

‘That was surprisingly not horrible, Thomas. I’ve got to hand it to you, you can make a good Sleeping Draught,’ he said, handing me my bag.

I laughed, ‘My potions bring all the wizards to the yard. And damn right, it’s better than yours,’ I sang, taking the bag and walking with him to the door.

He raised his eyebrow (stop rubbing it in) before bursting out laughing, ‘Has anyone ever told you you’re a weird bird, Halle Thomas?’

I nodded, ‘Yup. Practically every night.’

I heard a wolf whistle from behind me, and I didn’t even have to turn around to know who it belonged to.

Leroy Fitzpatrick; Hogwarts resident stalker. He took being a creepy Slytherin to a whole other level. The big old oddball (who had an alarming addiction to hair gel) hit on every single girl in the year.


At first it was flattering, and somewhat endearing. But as the years passed, Leroy just turned out to be the prickiest, pain-in-the-arse piece of shit to ever walk the face of the earth.

Yeah, I know, my insulting skills are the tops.

I subconsciously tugged my skirt down, and Potter frowned at my sudden awkwardness. I inwardly groaned as I heard the signature click clack of his ‘Hipster’ leather shoes on the dungeon floor. Without a warning, he slid his arm around my shoulders and smiled at me. He would actually be quite attractive, you know, if he wasn’t a slime ball.

‘What’s cooking, good looking?’ he asked, cocking his eyebrows suggestively.

I laughed at that one and pulled away from his reach, ‘That is possibly the worst line you’ve ever used, Fitzpatrick. Is it a possibility that you’ll grow some brain cells and realise we’re never going to happen?’ I asked.

‘Absolutely not, sunshine,’ he said, returning his arm to my shoulders.

‘Hey, mate, she asked you to back off. I think you should listen to what she said,’ Potter said.

We both turned around in surprise. Was he defending me? That was…


Leroy refused to move his arm, but I could feel him tense up. Right, the old Slytherin/Gryffindor rivalry. That was probably why Potter defended me; didn’t Gryffindors have to rescue a damsel in distress?

Well I am no damsel, let me assure you. I would be a dragon. Breathing fire on everyone and shit, it would be pretty awesome. I would never have to cook anything again; I’d just have to breathe on it and poof, instant cooking.

Whoops, forgot about the little fight unravelling in front of me.

Me? Easily distracted? Never.

‘What are you going to do about it, Potter?’ Leroy snarled. Well he seemed quite menacing. But Potter could take him easy. I’d only been friends with the boy for one period, and I could already tell those muscles were harder than stone.

Potter chuckled dryly, ‘Do you really want to find out, Fitzpatrick?’

Leroy shrugged his shoulders and removed his arm, ‘Whatever, Potter. Good luck getting this one, she’s as tight as a prune,’ he said, before walking away in the opposite direction.

Well that last comment wasn’t very nice. Oh well, it’s not like I liked him anyway.

I turned to smile at Potter, kind of speechless. ‘Thanks for that, Potter. It was very- erm- cool of you,’ I said, poking him in the arm. It was definitely a congratulatory poke.

He shook his head, ‘Don’t mention it. I’ve got like a bazillion cousins to defend, and you have no idea how many times I’ve beaten that guy up for trying to hit on Lily. Lily. I mean, she’s fourteen years old, dude, that’s just weird!’

I made a face. Resorting to hitting on fourteen-year-olds? That, my friends, is what I call rock bottom.

Feeling that I was already late to next period, I nodded my head in his direction and left after a salute. ‘Coz, you know, I’m cool like that. On my way there, I found myself humming.

And not just any humming. No, child, this was happy humming.

I think I’m warming up to James Potter. Are we, dare I say it? Half-friends?

Well played, Potter, well played.

Authors Note:

So, second chapter... How'd I do? As you already know, nothing belongs to me. pies belong to an anonymous genius. as do rubber ducks. but reviews, belong to you! care to share?

wow, even i thought that was lame.

enjoy! you lovely pie-fanatical, duck-supporting readers :)

Chapter 3: Of Nutters and Bubbles
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Chapter 3: Of Nutters and Bubbles


The first couple of weeks of term proceeded on pretty normally. Except for a little run in with the Giant Squid. Apparently he doesn’t like pies very much.

Sea animals, why don’t they like people food?

Thoughts of the Triwizard Tournament were pushed to the back of everyone’s minds, the only reminders of its presence being the lack of Quidditch (damn, I was really looking forward to working people’s arses off) and the occasional spotting of a house elf cleaning up the castle.

I wonder where the house elves live. I mean I know they’re here; they’re the ones who make the food. But where do they sleep?

That’s right, you’re looking at a lifelong member of S.P.E.W. Hermione Granger was ace for coming up with that club.

Now I had already decided I was entering the competition, I mean those Gryffindor’s weren’t the only brave chaps in this castle, but I didn’t really know anything about it.

So, I stole Elle bright and early on a Saturday morning and we charged away to library, on a quest to find history about past Triwizard Tournaments.

Elle groaned as we settled ourselves in the corner with past Daily Prophets and other news articles, ‘I’m not even entering. You are the biggest nerd on the planet,’ she complained. If she could enter, she totally would, but the poor dear was still sixteen. I was one of the oldest girls in the year, just making the age limit of the additional nine months.

‘I am not a nerd. I am a Ravenclaw. There is a distinct difference,’ I said, picking up the first article.

It had a huge picture of Harry Potter in the front, along with some babble about him crying about his dead parents. I furrowed my eyebrows; Harry Potter did not seem like the type to cry about his dead parents. But according to the article he was secretly a lost soul, needing comfort and tissues.

Godric, he’s a Hufflepuff.

Chuckling at my own joke, I showed the article to Elle, who laughed at its contents. ‘Apparently the second challenge in the Tournament was to rescue the person you loved most in the world from the deepest parts of the Black Lake. This article doesn’t have much, but there were merpeople involved,’ she said, shuddering.

Merpeople are creepy. End of discussion.

I nearly screeched as I picked up the next article, ‘They had to fight a sodding dragon!’ I said; a strange mixture of fear and adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Despite the fact that all I was doing was reading some old newspapers in the library.

Elle’s eyes widened, ‘That seems a bit intense, don’t you think?’

I shook my head no, as I picked up another article, ‘Before that, they had to fight a cockatrice!’ I practically yelled, earning myself a very dirty glare from Madame Pince.

I just stared down at the table and avoided her gaze, muttering, ‘Shouldn’t she be dead by now?’

Elle elbowed me, but she was smiling all the same, ‘Careful what you wish for.’

‘You know, I think I’ll stop wishing I got chosen for the Triwizard Tournament. With challenges like this I’m probably going to die.’ I said, shaking the articles in front of Elle’s face.

‘What happened to your Gryffindor courage?’

‘Ain’t got any, I’m a Ravenclaw, bitch.’

She laughed, swatting me on the head for my use of inappropriate language, ‘Then don’t try out. Simple as that.’

Giving one last reluctant look to the articles, I felt my decision wavering slightly. What if I actually got in? I would be a horrible Hogwarts Champions! The burly dudes from Durmstrang and the prissy little blondies from Beauxbatons would have me beat. I couldn’t shame the school like that.

I shrugged, deciding to leave the decision to later, but I could already feel myself leaning towards no. ‘Would you care for breakfast?’ I asked, sticking out my arm so she could link it.

She nodded, ‘But before we leave, rumour has it your new Potions buddy is James Potter,’ she said, smirking suggestively.

Gah! Rumours. The bane of all evil I tell you.

‘I thought you hated him?’ asked Elle.

I nodded, ‘I do! I did. He is a jerk and a player and practically ignored me for five bloody years. But I had no one else in the class, so I decided to talk to him. He turned out to be pretty cool. Should I lighten up on the whole you-ignored-me thing?’ I asked Elle, turning to her for girly advice.

She smiled, ‘I think you should. It’s not like he did anything wrong exactly, he just didn’t do anything right. Maybe this is the year to get to know him. Plus have you seen him? He’s so fucking fit!’ she exclaimed.

I couldn’t help but laugh, ‘I think the whole school has noticed his high level of fitness,’ I replied.

We continued to giggle our way out of the library.

Everyone looked at us weirdly, but we didn’t give a fuck.

Yup, we’re just cool like that.


I slid into my seat next to Jordin in Defence Against the Dark Arts, I loved this class. It had been my highest scoring subject in my O.W.L’s, which I had got Outstanding in everything (except for a subject which shall not be named. Cough. Divination).

Just as I was about to bite Jordin’s hand for knocking over my ink bottle, I felt the seat next to me become occupied. That’s strange, I was positive Elle was not in this class.

‘Elle! I had no idea you were in this class, now we can throw things at people in front of us together-’ I started, stopping abruptly when I saw the newcomer.

It was my good old friend Connor Stevens.

‘Connor!’ I squealed, I really like squealing, it’s fun, and enveloped him in a hug. ‘I haven’t seen you all term.’ I said. That was a lie, I had seen him around, but he had been with his new girlfriend, Jessie Kurt, who absolutely hates me.

And I hate her, for she is putting an obstacle in the inevitable relationship of Connor and Dom. Neither of them realise it, but they’re absolutely perfect for each other. Would you like some reasons?

Reasons why Connor and Dom are perfect for each other.

Dom is beautiful.

Connor is hot.

Dom likes a guy who can make her laugh.

Connor is fucking hilarious.

Neither of them are gay, so they should just get together already.

I realise that these aren’t great reasons, but you should see them together. You can practically smell the chemistry.

Smells like testosterone. On Connor’s part anyway.

But, Jessie got to Connor first, and for some absurd reason Jessie thought me and Connor’s friendship was something more, and took it upon herself to make my life a living hell. I mean, can’t she tell that her boyfriend has it bad for Dom Weasley? No, she thinks I’ve got it bad for Connor. I would never date Connor. Again. Don’t ask, it was complicated.

Anyway, Connor found out and broke up with her immediately (it was a bit of an aww moment) but then she apologized to me and they got back together.

But that girl still gave me the creeps, nearly as much as merpeople did.

I just avoided her, even though now she was creepily nice to me. Like the kind of nice sales assistants are when they think you’re going to buy something from them. She was the sales assistance of Hogwarts.

‘Bloody hell, Thomas you’ve lost weight,’ Connor commented, pinching my arm rather hardly.

I smirked when he couldn’t find any loose flab, ‘That’s all muscle, baby.’ I declared, flexing my arm, just for him.

‘Jordin, how are you doing mate?’ Connor asked, his eyes wandering past myself. Connor and Jordin have been pretty tight since fourth year, when Connor saved Jordin from a train wreck of a relationship with some Slytherin chick.

Goshness, weren’t our lives just filled to the brim with drama and romance?
Or, as the cool kids call it, dromance.

Jordin grinned back, ‘Pretty good mate.’

Ahh, bromance. Ain’t it sweet?

I elbowed both of them as the Professor Johnson walked into the room, signalling for both of them to be quiet. But that didn’t stop me from putting pieces of paper into Connor’s hair all lesson and watching him get angrier and angrier until he blew.

Some people call me annoying, I call it entertaining.

‘That’s it, Halle Thomas!’ he bellowed, grabbing my hand before I could slip another piece of paper into the sad excuse of messy hair which sat atop his head. I tried my very hardest to stop laughing, but my face was as red as a tomato from keeping it up.

‘You are a bad dog, Halle. A bad dog,’ he said, accentuating the words ‘dog’ and ‘Halle.’

I rolled my eyes, ‘I’m not a dog, you know. I am a half-black half-white, female teenager,’ I said my tone drawling on in the way which I knew drove him mad.

He narrowed his eyes, ‘You need to stop this. I’ll call James and make him stop you!’ he said, letting go of my hand and letting it drop to the table.

I narrowed my eyes, looking at Connor like he was a puzzle I couldn’t figure out.

‘Why would you ask James to make me stop?’ I asked.

He smirked, ‘From what James has told us, it seems you’ve got it bad for the number one Potter son,’ he said, walking out of the room as the bell went.

Did he just say what I think he said? While rhyming?

I stood up, slamming my books into my bag and following him out into the corridor, ‘What?’ I screeched.

Connor laughed as he turned around, ‘James said you were flirting with him hopelessly in that cosy, one-on-one Potions class,’ he said, pointing his finger at me and wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

‘I actually thought you’d make quite a nice couple, but I always thought Al would get you first,’ he said, stroking his chin as if he was deep in thought.

‘I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,’ I said, answering honestly. James had a seriously long stick up his ass if he thought I was flirting with him.

To think I was actually starting to like him. Well not anymore!

And there was no way in hell I was ever going to date Albus Severus Potter.

Oh hell to the no.

He was like my big brother. There has been more than one occasion in which he has called me sis and I’ve called him bro.

Not even joking.

‘That little rubber duck!’ I said, throwing my hands up in the air and stalking back to Jordin.

‘Flirting with James Potter, eh? You’ve lowered your standards Halle Thomas,’ Jordin said when I reached him.

I glared at him evilly, but gave up after four seconds, ‘You know I only talk to him because I have to. By the way, I hate you.’

‘No you don’t,’ he said, embracing me in a hug.

I growled into his shirt, ‘Take me to the food, woman.’ I ordered, pulling away from the embrace.

‘Did you just call me woman?’

I thought back to it, ‘Yeah, I guess I did. Didn’t even realise,’ I said, shaking my head.

Now it was Jordin’s turn to growl, ‘Why are all my friends women?’ he said, scowling, dragging me to the Great Hall for lunch.


The postal services arrived late and just as we settled in for lunch a sea of owls took over the ceiling of the Great Hall. And there was good ol’ reliable Larry, swooping down to my table and landing atop my head.

Jordin laughed as Larry descended, and continued laughing when Larry refused to move.

‘It seems your hair reminds Larry too much of the owlry. Must be all the owl poop in your hair,’ said Elle, winking at me.

I scowled, but stayed still as I reached my hands above my head and undid the package attached to Larry’s leg. He cooed triumphantly, and I gave him in return a bit of my pie.

The little bastard should feel honoured.

‘Now get, cheeky little dickhead,’ I said, shaking my head in what I believed to be a whirlwind of brown hair and feathers.

I read the letter from my dad, which was short and sweet.


You left the stove on, you nutter. Burnt the house down. It’s alright though; one little charm fixed it right up.

Here are some bubbles. I know you enjoy them. Westham won on the weekend. God, I love that team.

Love forever,


I laughed when I realised I left the stove on, and it never even occurred to me. Excitedly I quickly unravelled the bubbles and to my utmost glee I started blowing to my heart’s content.

Jordin rolled his eyes, ‘There should be a law against you and bubbles. You’re practically addicted,’ he said, pointing his fork at me accusingly.

I narrowed my eyes and shot him a quick glare, ‘Do not say such things! You never know who might be listening.’

I absolutely loved watching bubbles float in the air, before they gracefully pop against anything made of matter. The way the sunlight refracted on their surfaces, revealing a cacophony of different colours, merging together into miniature rainbows.

Wow, really poetic there, but I love bubbles.

Most of the people around us were pointing and smiling, some nutters (cough. Freddie Weasley) jumped off the bench to start chasing them. Elle asked for a turn, but she held her hands up in defeat when I was only three seconds into my rant.

‘OK. OK. No bubbles for Elle,’ she said, popping one which was floating near her head.

‘Oi, Thomas! Some of us are trying to eat here and we don’t want bubble shit all over our food!’ yelled a voice from across the hall.

And I knew exactly whose voice it was, as it belonged to a certain Slytherin who I had very conflicted feelings about.

Scorpius Malfoy.

I refused to deem him with a response, instead I continued blowing bubbles. Taking out my wand, I enchanted one until it was huge and put a protective spell over it, so it wouldn’t pop until I wanted it to. After a signature swish and flick and a hushed ‘Wingardium Leviosa’, I willed the bubble to fly dangerously close to the Slytherin table. Elle caught onto what I was doing and became red with laughter. Scorpius looked livid as the bubble approached closer and closer, and shot daggers at me with his eyes.

Smiling back, I levitated the bubble until it was hovering over his steak. By now the whole hall had turned silent, and everyone was intently watching the mini melodrama which was unfolding before them. With one flick of my wand, the gigantic bubble popped, right on his lunch, leaving soap residue on everything in the surrounding area.

Jordin and Elle were beside themselves with laughter, as was the greater majority of the school. I’m pretty sure I got a smile from Professor Longbottom. Fuming, Scorpius got up and stormed out of the hall, to which I called out, ‘So sorry, didn’t see you there!’

Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to my complicated life with Scorpius Malfoy.

Authors Note:

the end of the third chapter; in which bubbles had their debut. whadduafink? rant all you want in that little grey box. SPREAD THE WORD, of the poor nutter Halle and her deranged brain.

Westham United is a british football team. i don't own them. and i don't own little ol' harry. or anything cool, really. or do i?

no, i dont.


Chapter 4: Of Nutters and Troubled Rappers
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Chapter 4: Of Nutters and Troubled Rappers

‘James fucking Potter,’ I screeched, as I approached the Potions dungeon.

He was once again in his devil-may-care position, leaning against the wall like he owned all the shit. Curse him. Curse him and his devil-may-care standing positions.

He seemed to be mindlessly chatting up the same blonde twit who was fawning over him last lesson. I scrutinized her tie. Silver and green. For a Slytherin, this girl was sure acting like a ditz.

He pushed himself off the wall at my approach, a smirk already in place.

‘Halle Thomas, what can I do for you today?’ he asked, directing his sparse attention away from the Slytherin, who was now furiously talking to the side of his cheek.

I stood in the most threatening pose in my arsenal, one hip pointed out, both hands on waist and head slightly cocked to the right.

That’s right, I mean business.

‘What kind of pixie dust have you been sniffing to think I’ve been flirting with you? Get your head out of our arse otherwise you’ll lose the only friend you’ve got in this class,’ I growled, completely surprised by how confident I sounded.

Look at me –Halle the Ravenclaw– telling off all who is evil in the world.

I should get a medal.

The Slytherin –I should really learn her name, otherwise she will forever be known as ‘The Slytherin’ –cleared her throat and raised an eyebrow, ‘I’ll be your friend,’ she said suggestively.


Why is the world so unfair?

Despite my threatening speech, and the Slytherin’s failed attempt at seduction, Potter looked unfazed. Perhaps even, bored.

He obviously has a much more exciting life than I. My highlight of that week was watching a fellow Ravenclaw’s cat walk on its two hind legs.

It was pretty damn exciting.

James then proceeded to turn his ‘charm’ factors on extreme, and shot the Slytherin girl a cross between a smirk, a grin and a pout. I had to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing, since to me he looked like a sulking cow.

Slytherin didn’t think so, since she morphed into a puddle of goo, unable to form a coherent word.

I couldn’t help it, I burst out laughing.

‘Are you still mad?’ he asked, grinning alongside me as we ambled into the classroom.

I chose not to response and instead looked around the classroom. Twelve. Twelve girls glared at me as Potter slid into the seat at my immediate right.

I grinned maniacally when the twelve girls glaring at me started glaring at each other, some mouthing things like, ‘Back off, he’s my boy!’

Pah. He is sitting next to me. Making him my boy, silly fan girl.

Ahem. That was uncalled for.

Let’s just forget we said that, shall we?

Besides, I obviously meant it in a slang kind of term. Like when gang members call each other homies or boys. Yes, that was it. My black heritage was coming out in my speech.

Next thing you now I’ll be rapping down the corridor and referring to my home as the hood.

Oh, those would be the days.

‘So Thomas, cat got your tongue?’ Potter asked; when I was deep in thought about producing my own movie, about a rag-tag group of kids who had a passion for dance.

I would be the troubled rapper, of course.

Goddamit, I need a life.

‘Hmm? You’re an arse Potter and I refuse to talk to you,’ I said, staring straight ahead and refusing to look at his face.

‘So I might have lied. A teeny weenie bit. But you should have seen Al’s face when I said you were flirting with me, he was about combust,’ Potter said, laughing.

I turned around to face him, frustration bubbling beneath the surface of my skin. So this was why I had ignored this bloke for the past five years.

Because he was a ruddy prat.

‘That is a horrible thing to do, Potter. I am not a pawn in your brotherly battles,’ I said, swatting him on the shoulder.

Ooh, that’s gonna leave a bruise tomorrow.

‘That is not going to leave a bruise tomorrow, Halle. I barely even felt it,’ Potter said, glancing down at the affected area.

I looked at him questioningly, ‘Shit. Did I say that aloud?’ I asked.

He nodded and patted my head. ‘So we good?’

I sighed and returned the nod, ‘Yeah, we good my homie.’

Potter erupted into laughter at my completely appropriate use of black slang, and involuntarily I felt the corners of my mouth twitching upwards.

Godric, his laugh was contagious.


Professor Chang was drawling on about the uses of a Polyjuice Potion. I hated theory lessons, they were so boring. And honey, it’s a bit obvious what a Polyjuice Potion does; drink some potion and poof you’re somebody else for like half an hour. It’s not rocket science.

Potter looked as bored as I was, but it was prohibited to talk in class. Like Professor Chang would send daggers with her eyes and deduct house points. I think my record was 35 points in one class when I was in a heated argument with Al about the positive effect pies had on society. Did Al get any points deducted? No. Because he was the son of her secret lover.

OK, maybe not secret lover. But my dad told me Harry Potter and Professor Chang used to go out. Talk about your Hogwarts gossip.

I felt a nudge by my side and looked down to see a sheet of parchment on the desk. Potter had written me a secret note. Ooh, how exciting.

I looked down and read Are you old enough to enter the Triwizard Tournament?

And thus began my first parchment conversation with Potter.


Potter: Are you old enough to enter the Triwizard Tournament?

Me: Hell yeah. One of the oldest people in the grade. You?

Potter: Just made the age limit.

Me: Don’t know if I’m gonna enter. You know they had to fight a dragon last time?

Potter: Yeah, my dad told me.

Me: Well don’t you have connections.

Potter: Hell yeah. I’m cool like that. You should enter.

Me: I’ll enter when you admit you love me.

Potter: Alright. JAMES POTTER



I shook my head mockingly, and scribbled out the word loves repeatedly until it was no longer visible.

Now it just said James Potter (insert giant black smudge here) Halle Thomas.

Thus ended our note, since Potter’s drawing took up the rest of the parchment. He looked at me when I didn’t reply and I whispered to him, ‘you took up the whole page, you wanker. Sorry, I don’t feel the same way. Unrequited love must be so painful.’

He nodded and clutched a hand to his heart, ‘Loosing the will to live.’

Professor Chang sent us the warning glares, so we shut up and looked at our tables.

He ripped the last part of the note off and slid it towards me after a couple of minutes. ‘Just so you’ll always remember,’ he said, pushing it towards my elbow.

‘No way, homie. I ain’t accepting this,’ I laughed, as I took the parchment, tore it in half and then shoved it in his bag.

Wow, I am pathetic, I couldn’t even tear it properly, it was only half-torn. God dammit, even a piece of parchment can survive my wrath!

Potter opened his eyes wide and let his mouth drop, to which Professor Chang cleared her throat and said, ‘Something shocking, Mr Potter?’

He nodded intently, ‘Just how fascinating Polyjuice Potions are. Who knew it’ he squinted to read something off the board, ‘only takes 18 hours to brew in a copper cauldron? Bloody fascinating,’ he said, earning a few snickers from around the room.

Chang narrowed her eyes, before relenting, ‘Language Mr Potter. Anyway, the Polyjuice Potion-’ she said, before lapsing back into some description which sounded like it had been memorized from Advanced Potion Making.

When the bell rang later, Potter winked at me before practically running out of the classroom. ‘I’m gonna enter, Halle. Wish me luck!’ he called out, leaving before I could reply.

‘Good luck, James Sirius Potter,’ I replied, but he was probably too far away to hear.


James P.O.V

Thomas knows my full name.

Well, that settles it; she’s had a crush on me for years.

You want to hear my logic which supports this 100% correct claim? Well, I can’t give it to you, because my logic is most likely too advanced for your brain and it might kill you.

True story.

You know, if Thomas hadn’t ranted on about rubber ducks the first time I ever spoke to her, all the way back in first year, I wouldn’t have ignored her all these years. She’s not a half bad character, and her arse is definitely something nice to look at in my spare time.

Shit, that makes me sound like a stalker. Let’s make this clear, I do not follow Thomas around all day so I can stare at her arse.

I’ve got ladies following me around all day for that.

It was the big moment; I could feel my heart pulse increase as I quickened my pace down the corridor. I saw a few girls in the corner of my eye checking me out, and I decided to flash them a confident grin. One of them squealed.

Have I ever told you how amazing it is being the son of the saviour of the Wizarding World?

Connor was leaning against the corridor, Jessie Kurt underneath his outstretched arm. Everywhere we went together that chick was popping up, never leaving Connor’s side like they were attached by the hip. Seriously, I told Connor to meet me near the Goblet of Fire, I don’t remember inviting Kurt.

Not that I have anything against the girl, but seriously, bros before hoes.

‘Hi, Connor,’ I said as I approached, ‘And Kurt.’ I added, half-heartedly.

Kurt sent me a grin which made her look like the Cheshire cat, but in a creepy way.

‘Hey mate,’ Connor said, retracting his arm from the wall and hi fiving me. Hi fiving was our thing. Don’t even think about stealing it.

‘Hi James,’ Kurt cooed, it slightly annoyed me that she used my first name. I mean, she wasn’t allowed to use my first name. We were not on a first name basis.

Come to think of it, I’m not on a first-name-basis with anyone, really. There was the family, and then there was Connor. That’s pretty much where the list ends.

Halle’s a nice name, though. I’m not sure how it’d taste on my lips. Halle. Hall-ey.

‘James,’ Connor said, snapping his fingers in front of my face, snapping me out of my thoughts.

‘Ready to do this shit, man?’ I asked, nodding towards the folded piece of parchment in his hand.

‘Yup, where’s yours?’ he returned, and I motioned for him to hold on. Swiftly, I brought my hands to the front pocket of my backpack, and began rummaging around for my parchment. I knew I had written my name down somewhere.

Aha! I smiled victoriously as I brought out a slightly crumpled bit of parchment, which had a large tear in the side, and then folded it in half. ‘Got it!’ I exclaimed, bringing out the parchment, and walking towards the Goblet.

‘Aren’t you gonna check it? Could be your Potions homework for all you know,’ Connor asked, raising an eyebrow.

I shook my hand dismissively, ‘James Potter doesn’t make mistakes. Anyway if it’s wrong, the Goblet will just spit it out again, and I’ve always wanted to see the Goblet spit something out,’ I said, entering the protective circle put around the Goblet and dropping my parchment into the flames.

I held my breath for a second, watching for anything wrong with the flame. Maybe I should have checked it, could have been anything and I wouldn’t have even noticed.

Damn my Gryffindor impulse.

The flame changed colour, a bright purple, and then made a sort of gargling noise. People around pointed at it curiously, but the moment soon ended and the flames returned to normal.

The cheer was deafening, I hadn’t even noticed all the people in small clumps surrounding the Goblet, but everyone cheered as my parchment went in. I grinned maniacally, and pumped my fist in the air, earning a growing crescendo in the already deafening applause.

I walked back to Connor and slapped him on the back, as he had earned applause about as enthusiastic as mine. We flashed each other a thumbs up, before Connor intertwined his fingers with Kurt’s and walked away. I smiled at no one in particular and shoved my hands in my pockets.

James Potter; official contestant for the Triwizard Tournament.


Authors Note:

ah, lets see, you already know i don't own anything Harry Potter related.
or do i?
no, i don't.
feeling charitable? there's a little grey box down there that would love to hear your thoughts.


Chapter 5: Of Nutters and the Choosing of the Champions
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Chapter 5: Of Nutters and the Choosing of the Champions


Halle P.O.V

The school was in a state of extreme excitement, an electric buzz seemed to settle over the Great Hall. This was the day Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were rumoured to arrive at Hogwarts.

How fucking exciting.

That sounded sarcastic, but it wasn’t. Thinking about all those fit French guys and sturdy Bulgarian blokes just made me want to lick my lips.

Shit, curse you hormones. First James Potter, now unknown foreign dudes.

Whatever am I going to with myself?

‘You really reckon it’s going to be today?’ asked Elle, gingerly nipping at her croissant.

I nodded, ‘It’s already been a month. How much longer do they expect us to wait?’

‘So, you’re not entering? Halle Thomas has no Gryffindor courage?’

I shook my head sadly, ‘Apparently not. Potter entered though,’ I commented nonchalantly.

Elle’s eyebrows shot up so far they nearly disappeared into her fringe, ‘How do you know such things?’ she asked, a suggestive smirk playing on her lips.

I hated it when she smirked; it made her look so damn superior.

I shrugged, ‘He told me, in Potions class.’

Her smirk turned into a smile, ‘I knew it! You like James Potter!’ she practically yelled.

People in the surrounding area looked at us funny, and I gave them a dazzling smile. ‘Poor child forgot to take her medication this morning. Absolutely loony,’ I offered pathetically.

Elle was beside herself with laughter; it seems that girl is always laughing at my expense. I swatted her on the elbow, ‘Keep your ruddy mouth shut! You know the only reason I even talk to him is because he’s the only person I know in my Potions class,’ I hissed.

Her mind is pretty dirty, come to think of it. Every guy companion I have, she thinks I love them. Back in second year, she was convinced I was in love with Scorpius (which I was, but I wasn’t going to tell her that) and she set us up on a blind date.

Two little second years! We didn’t even get to go to Hogsmede’ it was this awkward little shindig in the library.

The Library!

Stupid Elle and her awkward tendencies.

Elle shrugged her shoulders dismissively, ‘whatever you say Halle. My poor, in denial Halle.’

I am not in denial!’ I shrieked.

But our banter was soon interrupted, as a little first year from Gryffindor stood on top of the benches and yelled, ‘The carriage is coming!’

As if in synchronization, the whole school rushed outside to view a giant blue carriage which was led by absolutely massive flying Pegasus’s. On the carriage doors was the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic emblem, two crossing gold wands, emitting some sparks.

Damn, they were cultured.

The school oo’d and ahh’d as the carriage approached nearer, seeming to aim for Hagrid, who was waving around two paddle-shaped pieces of cardboard in the air.

Everyone was watching intently until some other first year (this time he was Slytherin) yelled, ‘The Lake! Look at the Lake!’

Again, in a collective group, the school ran to the other side and watched as a big-ass ship rose out of the water, its size probably rivalling that of the Giant Squid. Shit, they meant business.

And then there was us, the cool Hogwarts kids, confounded by the two new schools.

This was going to be fun.


It had been a week since the new school’s arrival. The welcoming feast was pretty amazing, filled with dishes I had never even heard of.

Today was the night of the Choosing Ceremony, and it was now that the house elves brought out their top moves. Every inch of the tables were filled with dishes, and it was tonight that the two schools were to perform some impressive entry into the halls.

And then the Goblet would spew out some names and badda-bim badda-boom the Tournament would begin.

My instincts were correct, all the chosen blokes from the two schools were absolutely swoon-worthy. Elle had an absolute fairy-tale moment with a fit Beauxbatons bloke a couple of days ago, where he picked up her books for her when she dropped them and then kissed her hand.

Yeah, kissed her fucking hand.

Jordin was drumming his fingers impatiently on the wooden table, ‘When are they going to come already? I wanna eat,’ he complained.

‘Nah, you just wanna see the Beauxbaton girls shake their money-makers,’ teased Elle, and we both laughed as Jordin’s cheeks coloured a bright pink.

Silence fell across the hall as McGonagall stepped up to the podium. ‘Students!’ she called, being met immediately with everyone’s attention. ‘Please make a warm welcome for the students from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic!’ she announced, and everyone turned their heads eagerly to the entrance door.

The doors opened, revealing a rag-tag group of about sixty odd students, all of which were clad in a silky blue uniform, topped off with the signature, fancy school hat. The school strutted forwards in synchronization, their voices harmonizing with each other’s to form a chorus of words, which were sung in French. It was eerily beautiful, and I guessed it was their school song or something. The first line broke out into a graceful ballet/contemporary number, which followed the slow, strong structure of the song. It ended when a stunningly beautiful ginger did a backflip into the air, landing on her feet, and bowing to the school.

We all erupted into applause. The Beauxbatons students all bowed together and beamed at the hall, although many had an air of superiority.

A beautiful girl in her early twenties, who had a head of shiny, blonde curls took the podium, ‘We thank you Hogwarts for your great show of hospitality. I am Madame Toulous, Headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and I wish your school the very best luck in the Tournament,’ she beamed. I suspected she was part Veela, because something about her made me want to run up and hug her.

I think Jordin wanted to do something a little more than hugging.

‘Damn, they were good,’ commented Jordin, his eyes following every female he saw.

‘Player.’ I said, punching him in the arm.

‘And now, please welcome the students from the Durmstrang Institute,’ McGonagall announced.

Oh yes, it was Halle’s turn for some eye candy.

The burly, muscular teenagers entered the hall, all holding what appeared to be metal staffs. I don’t even know how they managed to do so in the narrow hallway, but everyone paired up and started sparring with their staffs. In complete synchronization. The hall was filled with adrenaline, watching the (extremely hot) blokes fight each other, mirroring each other’s movements so precisely it was almost like a dance.

They ran to the front of the hall, and the first couple of student’s commando rolled and got to their knees, and blew out the end of their staff. From the other side emitted a set of fireworks, which exploded and left the hall with the echo of a huge BANG.

Holy shit, that was amazing.

I’m pretty sure I swooned.

‘Oh my fuck, my ovaries!’ cried Elle.

I giggled and nodded, ‘Did you see that fit bloke up the front?’ I asked, nodding towards a particularly bad boy-esque character, standing broadly at the front of the hall.

Jordin followed my gaze, ‘You know that’s Viktor Krum’s son?’ he said.

I smiled slightly, ‘Isn’t that just fan-diddly-astic?’

A strong man was now at the podium, ‘And I am Krinnin Gregor, the Headmaster of the Durmstrang Institute,’ he then nodded and proceeded to sit at the staff table.

Well, he was definitely a chatterbox.

McGonagall once again took to the podium and smiled at the two new schools, who had taken seats at the empty tables provided for them. ‘Those performances were indeed lovely and exciting. I’m sure we’ll be seeing much from the two Champions from these two fine schools. Today, we have the Minister of Magic himself, present for the Choosing of the Champions. Please welcome, Kingsley Shackelbolt!’

My eyes found themselves drawn to the stage, as a slightly old, but still incredibly buff man took to the stage, clad in his signature purple robes.

‘Welcome all to the Triwizard Tournament, which as of now has officially begun. Hopefully, all who wanted to, have placed their names into the Goblet. I wish the very best of luck to those who are chosen, and I wish to warn them well in advance, that the winner of the Tournament will be bestowed with eternal glory, and often go down as great wizards or witches in history,’ he said, rubbing his palms together.

His smile seemed to take up his whole face as he looked warmly at us all, ‘and now, without further ado, it is now time to choose the names from the Goblet!’

The hall fell into silence as the Goblet was carted to the centre of the stage. Oh shit, this was really exciting, the suspense was killing me.

It was still for a couple of moments, before the flame turned bright purple, and a slightly crisp piece of parchment flew out of the flames. Like a ninja, Kingsley caught it and read out, ‘From Beauxbatons, Adriane Vecord!’

There was an excited squeal from the Beauxbatons table, as the aforementioned beautiful ginger got up from her seat and flounced her way to the Minister. She accepted the parchment, bowed to the hall and let the applause engulf her. After a couple of seconds of basking in her own glory, she exited to the left.

‘Damn, she was hot,’ commented Jordin.

‘More like damn, she was up herself,’ said Elle.

‘Hey!’ I said, ‘She might be a very nice girl for all we know.’

We stared at each other knowingly before breaking out into laughter. We don’t even have to say anything and our jokes are funny.

The hall turned silent again as another parchment emitted from the Goblet. Kingsley looked down and proceeded to read, ‘And from Durmstrang, David Niche!’

No excited squeal this time, but a solemn, absolutely gigantic buff dude got up from the Durmstrang table, and walked towards Kingsley. He got quite a few congratulatory pats on his way there, so the boy must have been pretty popular.

And now’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for, it was time for the Hogwarts Champion. The flames turned purple, and Kingsley caught a piece of parchment, which had a huge tear in it.

I could see it all the way from here.

He looked down at the parchment and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. There was a long silence, before Kingsley announced, ‘And from Hogwarts- James Potter’. The whole hall erupted into applause, and I could feel myself clapping excitedly.

I’m allowed to clap! Just because I don’t like him doesn’t mean I can’t clap.

But Kingsley held out his hand, and suddenly a dramatic feeling filled the air. ‘And Halle Thomas.’


Authors Note:

Oooooh, cliffy. excited? i know what you're thinking 'how oh how did this happen?' i do actually have an explanation, which shall be revealed in the next chapter. please review if you like what you read!

everything wonderful in this chapter belongs to someone else. namely JK. that is all.

Chapter 6: Of Nutters and McGonagall’s Fanclub
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A/N- So just to update, Halle AND James were just chosen for the triwizard tournament. CONTROVERSY! 



Chapter 6: Of Nutters and McGonagall’s Fanclub

The hall was stock silent, no one dared to make a sound. And there was no way in hell I was getting up from my seat. I didn’t even enter. What the fuck was going on?

Potter was half way up the aisle, but had frozen and was staring at me with shock, along with the rest of the hall. McGonagall quickly got up and yelled, ‘James Potter and Halle Thomas!’

Potter continued up the aisle but the chatter didn’t start. Elle nudged me, but it was like I’d lost all feeling. And then I lost it.

‘What?’ I screeched, ‘I didn’t even enter! That’s not even bloody possible!’

Everyone seemed to take my outburst as permission to speak, and the hall became an arena. People were yelling, especially those from the Durmstrang Institute, complaining that Hogwarts yet again got another two champions.

And those boys had a whole vocabulary of foreign swears.

Filthy, really.

Kingsley cleared his throat, and the hall returned to its solemn silence. ‘Halle Thomas! To the stage now!’ he bellowed, making me nearly jump out of my skin.

I leaped from my bench and skittered my way to the stage, avoiding people’s stares. What the hell was going on? I explicitly decided I wasn’t going to enter the competition, and here I was, walking up the aisle. The cup hadn’t even spewed out a second piece of parchment. There had only been Potter’s. Again, that’s not even fucking possible.

I nodded curtly to Kingsley, before he instructed me to go to a side room. As soon as I had disappeared the school had erupted back into chatter, and I could hear the teachers trying to calm them down. But everything seemed to pass through me, like I was a hollow shell of my former self.

Oh. Ma. Gawd. This is not good, not good at all. I would give up talking about rubber ducks to get myself out of this situation.

That’s a lie; I wouldn’t give my rubber ducks up for anything.

Potter was waiting behind the door, his arms crossed. ‘What the fuck, Thomas! How did you get the Goblet to choose you? You told me you weren’t even going to enter!’

I stared at him in disbelief, did he honestly think I did this on purpose? ‘You fuckwit, I didn’t do this on purpose! I didn’t even put my name in the Goblet!’ I said, letting my anger and shock out in that one sentence.

And then I was left with fear. Was I really going to have to compete in the Tournament? I wasn’t strong enough, I wasn’t smart enough. I was in Ravenclaw for Merlin’s sake; I wasn’t cut out for this shit.

Potter seemed to sense my change in attitude, and he awkwardly ruffled the back of his hair. Oh god, he wasn’t going to try and hug me, was he?

Just kill me now.

Fortunately our awkward moment was cut short, and my attention focused on the approaching legion of extremely pissed of professors.

‘I didn’t put my name in the Goblet! I swear!’ I pleaded, looking at McGonagall and Kingsley.

Kingsley nodded, ‘It wasn’t your fault at all, Halle. But I’m afraid you’re going to have to pay for another idiot’s mistake,’ he said, looking straight at Potter.

Why was he looking at Potter?

Potter ran his fingers through his hair, ‘I didn’t do anything, sir!’

Kingsley shook his head, ‘The parchment which you deposited into the Goblet had Halle’s name on it too. Were you really so careless to forget to check what you placed in there?’ he chastised.

Potter turned red and looked at the ground. I let the little cogs in my head turn around.

Did he put a piece of parchment inside the goblet which had both of our names on it?

Hang on a second; did he use parchment from Potions class? The one which said both our names on it? Was he really so stupid that he didn’t check the incriminating parchment before practically changing my life forever?

‘Of all the parchments in the entire world,’ I muttered, narrowing my glare on his stupid, abashed face.

This was all fucking Potter’s fault.

I refrained from poking him straight in the eye, ‘Are you fucking stupid? What kind of idiotic moron throws the wrong piece of parchment into the ruddy Goblet of Fire! Do you even realise-’

‘Oh get over yourself. Like you’re not savouring the fact that for once people have acknowledged your presence further than that Ravenclaw in the corner,’ he spat.

‘Low Blow, Captain Desperate. Where are the famous witty comebacks?’

McGonagall cleared her throat in a derisive manner, successfully silencing the both of us. Suddenly aware of our entire audience, I blushed a bright scarlet.

Woah, I just swore in front of a whole legion of teachers. Now Madame Toulous and Krinnin Gregor probably think Hogwarts is a school for rabid animals and swearing, hormonal teenagers.

Oh wait, it is.

The other two champions, I noticed, were watching from the side, with amused expressions on their faces.

Foreign bastards.

Potter looked at me, that Gryffindor impulse to save a damsel-in-distress kicking in, ‘Professors, this must be a mistake. It’s not like she’s actually a contestant. It was my parchment which came out of the goblet, not hers. This is just a really big misunderstanding,’ he reasoned, and I felt myself calming down a little bit.

But Kingsley shook his head, ‘Technically her name came out of the Goblet. She has as much right to be a Champion as you, Mr Potter,’ he said, pointing at him.

‘Kingsley, you can’t possibly be suggesting that the child enter the Tournament! She clearly doesn’t want to!’ said Professor McGonagall, a protective air in her voice.

Aww, I didn’t even think liked me.

Shit, am I fangirling over McGonagall?

Oh I think I am. This is not good.

‘Well this is just unfair!’ said Madame Toulous, ‘Hogwarts can’t have two champions yet again!’ she complained, narrowing her eyes at me.

I held up my hands, ‘Hey, I’m not complaining. Please let me drop out,’ I pleaded, once more for good measure.

But Kingsley looked strong, ‘I’m afraid your name came out of the Goblet, and Tournament protocol strictly states any name to leave the Goblet must enter the Tournament. It’s a binding magical contract, I fear for Miss Thomas’s safety if she refuses to enter,’ he said, solemnly.

Potters face was a weird mix of guilt and anger. Anger? He had no fucking reason to be angry in this whole situation!

He bit his lip, something which unintentionally made my heart whir slightly faster, ‘Wow, Thomas. I’m –er –sorry,’ he admitted ruefully.

An apology? A lame, half-arsed, apology? I think not, Potter.

‘I don’t want to hear it,’ I said, not looking at him. Our half-friendship? Tattered, in shreds. That bastard was going to pay.

Suddenly overwhelmed with the whole situation, I felt the burning desire to sink my teeth into a bowl of pastry goodness. That seemed to be the only remedy for my current situation.

‘I’m going to go get a pie, do you mind?’ I said, gesturing to the doorway.

McGonagall pursed her lips, ‘I hardly think this is the time to think about pastries, Miss Thomas! Please stay for the remainder of the talk!’

Bitch, it’s always time to think about pastries.

I am officially over McGonagall and I’m quitting her hypothetical fan club.

I wonder if she even has a fan club.

Probably does, somewhere. Filled with creepy old men. Maybe Freddie’s a part of it.

Kingsley looked slightly amused, ‘Congratulations to all of you, we were hoping for a regular Tournament, but I suppose things are never regular anymore,’ he said, looking at everyone. ‘You are all to meet here tomorrow at twelve o ‘clock for a quick debriefing of the Tournament, and then your wands shall be weighed. After that, all you must do is wait for the first task. I wish you all the best of luck,’ he explained.

What the fuck was I going to do?

The teachers erupted into argument, everyone back-pedalling and trying to think of another solution. It seemed like none of them wanted me in the Tournament, either.

I looked at the other two champions, who looked as amused as Kingsley. Adriane was beautiful, with a short ginger bob, and delicate brown eyes. She looked like the kind of girl who could ruin your reputation with one rumour. I don’t like those kinds of girls.

Who does?

Oh that’s right, boys. Trust Potter to give her a not-so-subtle glance over.

I rolled my eyes, of course. Only Potter would be able to check out a beautiful, French person (who was probably part Veela, considering my luck) after he had just completely ruined my life.

Besides, he’s never given me a not-so-subtle glance over.

Sometimes I don’t understand the things which come out of my brain.

Adriane seemed to be lapping up the attention. Alright bitch, get ready for a famous Halle –mother fucking –Thomas glare.

Unfortunately however, I seem to possess the absolutely pathetic incapability to glare. And raise my eyebrows in a singular fashion.

Cue cliché teenage angst moment: I hate my life.

So my attempt glare has already turned into a strange cross between an eye squint and an eye tremor.

Hopefully she won’t notice.

Shit, she noticed.

And what’s her course of action? She glares at me. A full-fledged, bitch-I’ve-been-glaring-since-before-you-were-born eye attack was now being sent my way.

I am not equipped for this situation. I know! I’ll break the eye contact by pretending to do up my shoe.

Of course, I’m wearing ballet flats.

Now earning the classic has-thing-girl-just-been-excused-from-Mungo’s? stare, I was just about ready to kill myself.

Note, the above activities, took the time of roughly about fifty seconds.

However an extremely awkward and uncomfortable fifty seconds, nonetheless.

My eyes fell to David, who was kind of weird looking, with a face full of acne and Merlin knows what else. His biceps, which were bulging out from underneath his blood red cloak, looked like they could pick me up and toss me across the room at a moment’s notice.

He smirked, ‘Beating two Hogwarts losers will be even better than beating one,’ he declared, before walking away.

Adriane giggled, ‘What an unfortunate situation you’ve landed yourself in, dear. See you tomorrow!’

The teachers were still arguing amongst themselves, so I sighed and let myself out, Potter hot on my heels, an emotion similar to guilt spread across his features.

Strange, the Potter I knew didn’t have emotions.

‘Thomas, I said I was sorry!’ he said, once again. We passed the turn for the Gryffindor common room ages ago, so he clearly was not going to leave me alone.

Once again I replied him with silence, and he grunted in frustration. I smirked to myself; aggravating Potter filled me with a sense of strange self-satisfaction.

Without a second’s warning, he had grabbed my waist and pushed me up against a wall, trapping me with his Quidditch-toned body, hands pressed on the wall, mere centimetres from my face. His expression was strong, unwavering, and he was absolutely unfazed by the close contact.

I, on the other hand, was about to fall into a puddle of goo. When the only guys you hang out with are nothing more than brothers to you, being in such close proximity with a (undeniably attractive) male tends to do strange things to a Thomas brain.

‘Thomas, talk to me,’ he demanded. It was not a suggestion, it was not a plea, it was an order.

‘Why should I?’

‘Now,’ he said, unmoving in his near-rape position, ‘Was that so hard?’

I hmphed, ‘It was pretty difficult.’

He rolled his eyes in annoyance, what was once a sparkle of remorse in his eye was gone, replaced with irritation.

And for some reason, that sparked something within me. I was usually the non-confrontational type, more comfortable just reading a book and letting time heal all my quick fall-outs with the two people’s whose opinion actually mattered to me- Jordin and Elle. Who, coincidentally happen to be the only people I have ever fought with in my entire Hogwarts career.

Except for Scorpius.

So why is it, that my sudden befriending with James Potter has caused a sudden increase in my number of spats? Good natured teasing was one thing, but this? I don’t even know what this was.

‘How dare you,’ I hissed, ‘How dare you have the nerve to be annoyed at me? You’ve just fucking signed my death warrant, and you’re honestly telling me you’re annoyed with me? Someone was obviously dropped multiple times when they were younger, because only you could have the nerve to be annoyed in this situation.’

Wow. It was like a whole burden had been lifted off my chest. From a girl who’s only ever fought with three people before, to speak like this, to Potter of all people, was quite the accomplishment.

He cocked an impressed eyebrow, ‘You done?’                                      

Sighing, I nodded my head in defeat, ‘I ‘spose,’

Inching away from me, he relented in his jail-cell pose, leaving me feeling uncharacteristically cold.

‘Look, Thomas,’ he said, shoving his fingers through his hair so violently, I was surprised he didn’t tear a chunk out. ‘Believe it or not, I really am sorry. I, I wasn’t thinking. I just grabbed the first bit of parchment I found and didn’t bother to check it. It’s all my fault. And trust me when I say this, but I don’t admit to things often. So, yeah Thomas, I’m sorry.’

His eyes were different now. Sorrow was mixing with the intense brown swirls which inhabited his irises, making my knees shake. Without thinking, I nodded, ‘I know.’

‘So, we good?’ he asked, taking another step back.

‘Yeah, we good my homie,’ I replied, taking another step closer.

And just like that, we really were.

Authors Note-      

sexual tension, it's the bomb. james is a douche, but a lovable one, so all is forgiven! 


just remember, nothing wonderful came from my mind. that was all JK. to the Rowling.   

Chapter 7: Of Nutters and Intense James Training Sessions
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soo, to recap: Halle's an official competitor for the triwizard tournament. CONTROVERSY, IF I EVER SAW IT! enjoy.


Chapter 7: Of Nutters and Intense James Training Sessions

I officially had explained the situation 38 times.

38 fucking times.

At least rumour had spread and now everyone knew about Potter’s mistake, which resulted in two Hogwarts Champions. I got many jealous stares, but so far no haters. Everyone seemed pretty hyped up that Hogwarts had two champions again; heaps of people were going around saying that history is repeating itself.

And it better not be, since I was in no condition to watch the reincarnation of Voldemort.

When I returned to the Ravenclaw common room, in a bit of a daze due whatever had just gone on between Potter and I, the whole house, the whole fucking house, was waiting for me to explain.

And I did, upon arrival. Once finished I was hoisted onto Jordin and some other random fifth year’s shoulders and everyone was chanting, ‘Halle! Halle!’

I’ve got to admit, I was enjoying myself immensely.

The following day at the debriefing, Kingsley just explained the rules, and my wand was in tip-top condition. It was quite boring really, and I had to spend too much time with Potter. Potions class is enough, thank you very much.

I was now in lounging in the Ravenclaw common room, the novelty of everything had slightly worn off after a week. Elle was opposite me, proof-reading my excellent Transfig essay. She was nibbling on the end of my quill, her eyebrows furrowed in attention.

‘Don’t burst a vessel, thinking too hard,’ Jordin noted, smirking at Elle’s concentrated expression. ‘Squeeze over fatty,’ he ordered, nearly pushing me off the chair.

I jumped up before he practically sat on me, ‘You may have the whole chair, Jordin. I’m off now.’

Elle didn’t even look up from her parchment, ‘No you’re not, you have no friends apart from us,’ she said.

‘Hey!’ I exclaimed, ‘I am friends with everyone in sixth year thank you very much,’ I argued, poking her on the head.

‘Well where are you going?’ asked Jordin.

Inwardly, I smiled. Potter was being begrudgingly adorable, trying to make up for the whole sorry-I’ve-signed-you’re-death-penalty thing. He invited me to my first training session in preparation for the Triwizard Tournament. The bloke had practically ordered me to meet him on the third floor, to prepare for some, and I quote, bad ass, rigorous booty training.

Yes, I quote.

‘I’m off to make out with Scorpius Malfoy,’ I blurted out, without even thinking about it.

Elle’s head shot up, ‘What!?’ she screeched, ‘I thought those days were over!’

Jordin’s face turned stony, ‘Halle he practically broke your heart. I am not letting you go out there. Do not tell me I have to beat him up again,’ he said, rolling up his sleeves.

My eyes went wide, Scorpius was in the hospital wing for a week after Jordin had gone after him. He was the best Beater, bodyguard and best friend a girl could ask for.

‘Guys, it was a joke! Potter is going to train me, you know, for the Tournament.’

Elle smiled approvingly, ‘Yes! Some Halle-James alone time. About fucking time, I know you love him.’

Jordin turned to smile mockingly at me, ‘I knew it! My girlie senses were tingling whenever you two are together.’

Elle and I stared at him, before erupting into laughter. Did he just say girlie senses? And people think I’m weird.

Oh wait, I am!

Right, attentions back to Jordin and his girlie senses.

He just stared at us before saying, ‘Laugh all you want. I’m secure.’

I shook my head, ‘First of all –it’s Potter– not James. And how many times do I have to tell you? I’m only friends with him because- I’m not even friends with him. End of story.’

‘Whatever you say, Halle,’ Jordin murmured, before exchanging a knowing look with Elle.

I scoffed, ‘Screw you.’

Elle began coughing, and her cough sounded like a poorly disguised, ‘Someone’s in denial!’

Oh, screw her.


I walked down the corridor, enjoying the sound of my footsteps on the hard marble floor. My thoughts now seemed to be centred on a particular blonde-headed Slytherin, who used to take up a large capacity of my thinking time.

And sometimes, he still does.

A long time ago, (a full six months, I would say) Scorpius and Al used to be in our little group. We were a bit of a motley bunch, an odd combination of Slytherins and Ravenclaws. But we just, worked.

Let’s just say I had a small, insignificant, infatuation with Scorpius Malfoy.

Which practically the whole school knew about.

I mean he was a badass, blonde buff Slytherin, who had an absolutely swoon-worthy smile. And when I was with him, it was like the whole world was spinning on an axis, and it stopped just for us.

I know, that sounds incredibly corny, but when you’re a hormone crazed fifteen year old, Scorpius’s attention will do that kind of thing for you.

So, at the end of fifth year, the git finally catches on (and it only takes Albus screaming it in his face for him to understand) and he asks me out.

And I was fucking ecstatic.

The date was a complete success, and we started dating. Dated for three straight months, I tell you. We were kind of more snog buddies than partners, though. Every time he’d see me he’d push me up against a wall and snog me senseless. Hey, don’t get me wrong, I loved it. I was not complaining. I suppose we were friends-with-benefits, who would occasionally hold hands in the corridor.
And then one day, I found him in a broom closet snogging someone else senseless. I don’t even know her name. Some blonde Hufflepuff.

I could practically hear my heart break.

He tried to beg for my forgiveness, but seriously, who the fuck would forgive him? Even if he enchanted a rubber duck to talk so we could become best friends, even then I wouldn’t forgive him.

And that was saying something.

So, to get back at him (and this was strictly Dom Weasley’s plan, thank you very much) I kind of fake-dated Connor. It was fun; we were a good fake couple. Sent Scorpius livid though, he seemed convinced that I never really liked him, that I was just using him to get to Connor.

Which was a big fat ball of hypocrite if you ask me.

Ever since then we’ve had a mutual dislike for each other. I think both of us want to fix it, but neither of us know how or want to give up our pride and be the first to admit they were wrong.

We were acting like bloody Gryffindors, we were.

That was when he and Al sort of broke off our little group, and befriended some other Slytherins. And we became a strict, Ravenclaw-only group. Me, Jordin and Elle.

And I liked it that way.

But my heart still raced whenever I saw him. But as time passed, the racing sort of calmed down. It was still there though, to my utter annoyance, and I’m pretty sure I’ll never be completely over Scorpius Malfoy. Then again, it only happened like six months ago, so you know what they say. Time heals all.     

He’s still a little blonde bastard.

Stopping outside the designated classroom, I tentatively turned the knob and walked inside, Potter was sitting there looking at a piece of parchment. He quickly tapped it and muttered something under his breath before tucking the parchment back into his pocket.

Hey, secret keeping! Not fair!      

‘Was that your secret shopping list?’ I asked, raising my eyebrows suspiciously.

‘Nup,’ he replied.

‘Was that a mirror, and you were checking your hair?’


Dammit, I was sure that would be the one.

‘Was that a secret map, leading to an ancient Hogwarts treasure, consisting of rubber ducks and pie-makers?’

He chuckled, and I kind of felt pleased. That’s right, I made James Potter chuckle.

But it’s not like I care. I don’t even like him. But still, I made him chuckle.

Bitches be jealous.

‘You’re getting closer,’ he said, shrugging his shoulders, ‘but we’re not here to discuss that. I have decided to be the noble Gryffindor I am and help you survive in this Tournament. I wouldn’t want your death on my head, that’s for sure,’ he said, getting up off the desk.

‘Well isn’t that, thoughtful of you?’ I replied, sarcasm oozing from every word.

And there it was. Silence.

And not just any silence, but awkward silence.

When I thought about it, Potter and I hadn’t really spent much time together, apart from Potions class.

I mean, he was the reason I didn’t hang out with the Gryffindor Gaggle –a name Jordin, Elle and I came up with in second year – for Dom, Connor, Potter and Freddie.

Those four were practically inseperable. Nearly as close as Elle, Freddie and I.

And for all intents and purposes, we refer to ourselves as the ‘Claw Crew.

‘Cause we cool like that.

He cleared his throat, breaking the silence, ‘Let’s begin, shall we?’


Two hours later I was slumped on the floor, drenched in sweat and was practically dry-heaving. Merlin, that boy really does justice to the words rigorous training. I would hate to be on his Quidditch team, because I would probably die after one practise.

He was silent as he brusquely marched down to the Quidditch pitch, claiming I needed to work on my fitness if I wanted to be a competitor in the Tournament.

Hmm, I do believe I didn’t want to be a competitor in the Tournament; it was more forced upon me by a stupid, impulsive Gryffindor. Whose last name rhymes with Sotter. When I pointed this out to him, he simply scowled and dubbed me ‘The Spoilsport.’

Affectionate nickname, isn’t it?

‘Alright, Thomas! Show me what you can do! Laps around the pitch. Go! Go! Go!’ he yelled.

I looked at him like he was crazy, ‘Why the hell would I listen to you?’ I yelled back. He wasn’t the only one who could yell, you know.

‘Do you want to die?’ he asked.

I looked at my shoes and didn’t answer.

‘DO YOU WANT TO DIE?’ he yelled in my face. I jumped back and looked up at him.

‘No sir?’


‘NO SIR!’ I yelled before starting to jog around the pitch.

Did Potter just yell at me into doing laps? Army style?

Merlin, this is the weirdest day I’ve ever had.

Twenty fucking laps later, I was ready to throw up. Potter was leaning against the bleachers, looking impressed. ‘Twenty laps? Well done, Thomas. We’ll increase it by five laps every day, until you’ve reached fifty like me. Then we can jog together,’ he said, whipping his wand out of his pocket.

I didn’t really listen to anything he said, after he said fifty laps a day. I kind of had a panic attack and decided to stare at his abs to calm me down.

Damn, he was looking good in a sleeveless white tank-top.

Focus, Halle, focus! Remember, you’re not sure if you’re even committed into this friendship! Or half-friendship. Or whatever the fuck this was.

Nah, screw it, mmm…nice abs.

‘Thomas, are you even listening to me?’

I snapped my head up, breaking my reverie about his abs. ‘Absolutely not,’ I replied.

He smiled at me, the amusement evident on his face. Despite the back breaking labour, this was kind of fun. I would not mind making this a daily occurrence.

‘Just for that, another ten laps!’ he yelled again, how has no one heard him yet? He’s yelling for the trolls to hear!

‘Absolutely not!’ I exclaimed, dropping my ass on the floor and refusing to move.

‘ANOTHER TEN LAPS!’ he bellowed in my face. I had to close my eyes to avoid getting spit in them.

‘ABSOLUTELY NOT!’ I repeated, burrowing my head in my elbows. I was never going to lift my head from this comfortable position. Not even if he took his shirt off.

Ha! We all know that’s a lie.

‘Alright,’ he said, ‘you leave me no choice. You brought this upon yourself,’ he then proceeded to pick me up and throw me over his shoulder, like a freaking child, and began to run laps himself.

‘Jesus, Thomas! You weigh as much as a feather,’ Potter commented, ‘I could do this forever.’

I wailed and thrashed against his back, yelling, ‘I will get you for this! Curse the day you were born James Potter! And to think, I was going to make you an honorary member of the Rubber Duck Club!’

The last part was a lie. There is no Rubber Duck Club.


Potter chuckled and refused to let me down. Eventually my head started hurting from the constant thumping, and I agreed to run alongside him for the remaining five laps. It was nice, just running next to him. He stopped whenever I stopped and slowed down whenever I slowed down.

When we were finished we headed to the Quidditch change rooms and showered. Potter hardly broke a sweat while I was fairly sure I would pass out from the exercise.

By the time we were done it had gotten dark, and I enjoyed the feeling of the cool, crisp air hitting my cheeks. ‘Enjoy yourself?’ Potter asked, jogging to catch up with me.

I nodded, an odd sense of calm spreading over me, ‘Were you joking about the fifty laps?’

‘Absolutely not,’ he replied, grinning at my appalled face.

We walked the rest of the way in comfortable silence, and said our goodbyes. It took me a while to realise he had left and I was still standing in the same position, my head in a whirlwind of emotions.

To put it simply, Potter was nothing I had expected.

I kind of, and I’m literally waiting for a lightning bolt to strike me off the face of the earth for thinking this, but I’m kind of enjoying his company.

I mean, let’s make a list, shall we?

1)      He’s funny.

2)      He’s charming.

3)      He’s teasing

4)      And he’s…flirty?

And why the hell shouldn’t I like Potter? I don’t remember there ever being some sort of educational decree saying a friendship with James Potter was impossible. Earth-shattering. Sky-breaking.

It’s all these, preconceived notions. Two simple words that could sum up my feelings for Potter. Five years of cold shoulder-bumps and absolute existence-ignoring behaviour had given me stereotypes.

And, slowly, I was breaking them down.

Coming to this sudden realisation, my legs seemed to remember how to walk. I headed towards my common room, smiling for what seemed like absolutely no reason. I was in a good mood, and there was only one reason for it.

And that reason was James Potter.

A/N- somes James/Halle time muther focker. enjoy.

if you liked, feel free to drop a review in that lovely grey box. it's not like im going to beg or anything.

ALRIGHT. IM BEGGING. IM BEGGING (yeah, i'm not despeate)

everything awesome belongs to j-shizzle. you know who i'm talking about

Chapter 8: Of Nutters and Brotherly Love
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Chapter 8: Of Nutters and Brotherly Love

When I returned to my dorm room, I must have sighed dreamily. The oh-I-had-a-nice-time sort of sigh. It didn’t come out on purpose, as up until now I had thought it was impossible for me to execute such a sigh. But I executed it alright, and now Elle was giving me the look.

You know what look I’m talking about.

It’s the I-know-you’re-happy-and-it-has-nothing-to-do-with-pies-or-sugar-or-rubber-ducks look.

Damn, I hate that look.

‘Spill, child,’ she ordered.

I shook my head and glanced at clock on my bedside table, 11pm.  I groaned; I should already be deep into the world of sunshine, lollipops and rainbows.

Literally, 45% of my dreams are actually about all things listed above, I tend to blame the ducks.

Or the pies.

Or the sugar.

Elle jumped up off her bed and landed on mine with a squeak, ‘Spill, child!’ she ordered again.

I looked at my other two dorm mates, who were soundly asleep. How did Elle not wake them up? I don’t really talk to them much, Janine and Fran. They’re convinced the eighties are going to make a come-back and they always wear hippie pants and tease their hair up really high. Fran wears weird glasses which are circular and purple, and Janine braids her hair with flowers and sometimes goes days without showering. She says that showering stops her body from rejuvenating.

Which is total bullshit; it just makes her smell worse than Dobby’s socks.

And I shower daily, and my body rejuvenates just fine, thank you very much.

Well, then again, I’m not sure how I can measure my body’s rejuvenation.

Gah, long story short, Elle and I don’t talk to them.


Elle seemed to read my mind, because she scoffed and said, ‘They’re not going to wake up. A whale could be beached in our dorm room all night and they wouldn’t even stir.’

I giggled, ‘They would probably start a protest or something. Hogwarts is evil! Less showers! More whales!’

We laughed, even though the joke wasn’t particularly funny. ‘So,’ Elle started, ‘Stayed out pretty late with James.’

I rolled my eyes and banged her with a pillow, ‘Potter. It’s Potter, and get your mind out of the gutter, you bint. I didn’t sleep with him. Or make out with him. We didn’t even hug!’ I said, rather tragically.

She smiled, ‘You seem rather upset about that.’

I turned red, ‘Psh? What? No. I’m the opposite of upset. I’m joyful. See this face?’ I asked, pointing to my own head, ‘It’s the epitome of joyful.’

Elle laughed, ‘Of course it is, Halle. But I was under the impression you didn’t like him. I’m only talking to him because he’s the only one in my Potions class! And he ignored me for five years,’ Elle mimicked, doing a very good Halle impression.

It was so good; I was a little bit freaked out. ‘Are you a Cyberman? Because that impression succeeded in freaking me out,’ I asked.

Elle furrowed her eyebrows, ‘What’s a Cyberman?’

I cackled evilly, ‘Nothing compared to a Dalek!’

Oh my, I just made a Doctor Who reference. No one ever gets my Doctor Who references, not even the Muggle-borns.

Which I think is silly, because Doctor Who comes pretty close to pies on my list of all-time favourite things.

Don’t judge me for watching Muggle sci-fi shows. I’m still cool!

Nah, we all know I’m not.

‘All of that he ignored me shit, it’s immature. It’s all preconceived notions. Potter is,’ I stopped, waiting for the appropriate word, ‘Nice.’

Elle raised an eyebrow, ‘I can think of about fifty words for James Potter,’ she said, ‘And not one of them is nice.’

True, Potter isn’t exactly your typical boy-next-door. He’s secretive, cryptic, and has the whole tall, dark and handsome thing. I cringed at my poor choice of words, because Potter definitely isn’t nice.

‘Alright,’ I relented, ‘He’s interesting.’

Elle snorted, so I tried a different approach, ‘And he’s Freddie’s best friend.’

Her cheeks turned noticeably pinker.

I smiled, knowing I’d struck a nerve, ‘You know Potter’s the only reason we don’t hang out with the Dom, Connor and Freddie right?’

Since the four were practically inseparable, you just couldn’t hang out with Connor, Dom or Freddie without getting a face full of Potter.

She nodded, ‘Fully aware of said fact.’

‘So if we were to become friends, in a hypothetical situation, would you not have more Freddie-Elle time? Or as I like to call it, Elleddie time?’

She groaned, ‘Worst. Mash-up. Ever.’

I laughed as she threw herself back onto her bed, before whispering, ‘Besides, Freddie’ll never go for me. I’m just that Ravenclaw. And you know it.’

I nearly fell off the bed, ‘Where’s your ‘Claw Cheer? We are fucking awesome. And you are the most awesome person Freddie Weasley could ever ask for. So stop acting like you’re not gorgeous, funny and smart, and spend some time with the boy already!’ I practically shrieked.

Big surprise, Janine and Fran are still asleep.

They must be deaf or something.

And it’s not like I was lying. Elle was beautiful. She had dark, grey, stormy eyes, which were a complete contrast to her wavy blonde hair. Sometimes I made fun of it, saying it was messy, but really it was great, it had that constant I-just-got-out-bed-look-and-I-don’t-need-to-do-anything.

Like a surfer or something.

Her skin was pale, a few shades lighter than my own Caucasian, light coffee tone. And she had great teeth.

Together, we could model for dentists or something. Because we had seriously amazing teeth.

Yeah, that’s what we were known for. People saw us and it was like Damn, they have good teeth!

At least, that’s what the people in my head say.

There’s no way I can say that and not sound crazy, is there?

‘Talk to Freddie tomorrow,’ I challenged, ‘And I’ll talk to Potter.’

She raised an eyebrow, before smirking, ‘Challenge accepted,’ she declared, before turning off the lights with a flick of her wand.


‘Hello all!’ I declared, plopping down next to the Gryffindor Gaggle, plus Al, who were chillaxing by the lake. ‘I have decided to grace you with my presence.’

Albus rolled his eyes but hugged me anyway, ‘Haven’t seen you all term, Thomas. Avoiding me?’ he asked, with a Slytherin twinkle in his eye.

‘Absolutely definitely. You smell, Albus Potter. Can’t be caught around smelly people,’ I joked, resting my head on his shoulder.

‘Hear, hear! All who agree with Halle’s statement say aye!’ yelled Connor.

‘AYE!’ came a chorus of voices.

Albus started yelling in protest, ‘I do not smell! I smell only of fresh parchment and newly cut grass.’


‘What is wrong with you? Because if you OD’d on sugar, you should have asked me to join you,’ I grumbled in his direction.

‘I am just a naturally charismatic person, Halle. Deal with it,’ he said, winking.

Yup, definitely too much sugar.

Potter laughed, and unintentionally my head whipped up off Albus’s shoulder to look at him. I shook my head in disbelief, before resting it back there. Al was very muscly, he made a lovely cushion.

‘Connor’s just happy because he finally ditched his twat of a girlfriend,’ Potter explained.

I whipped my head up off Al’s shoulder again, I was going to get whiplash if I wasn’t careful. ‘You broke up with Jessie? About time!’ I squealed.

Connor smiled, ‘Nup. We’re still together, Halle.’

I blushed, ‘Oh. You didn’t let me finish. About time you grow some brain cells, boy, and hold on to her. She’s a keeper!’ I said, unenthusiastically, punching him lightly in the shoulder.

Dom laughed, ‘And that is why I love you.’

Freddie raised his eyebrows suggestively.

We both threw clumps of grass at him simultaneously.

That shut him up.

Freddie turned to look at me, ‘So, where’s Jones?’ he asked, trying to pretend like he didn’t care. But he totally cared.


Elle couldn’t make it, said she had to finish some homework,’ I lied.

Stupid coward. When I ordered her to accompany me to find the Gryffies, she blushed furiously and refused to leave her bed. I dragged her; yes I did, all the way down the stairs.

And then she ran back up again.

As previously mentioned, stupid coward.

Freddie nodded, but looked somewhat dejected.


I was just about to yell this out, since I like yelling out my thoughts, when I saw a butterfly.

‘Ooh, look. A butterfly,’ I commented.

Potter seemed to notice it as well, because he said, ‘Look. A butterfly.’

We said it in complete unison. It was kind of creepy.

The group erupted into laughter and I felt, strange. Potter and I just had a moment which passed for friendship. ‘I guess you’re as weird as me, Potter.’

He looked horrified at the thought, ‘Think again, Spoilsport. To be as weird as you I’d have to constantly talk about rubber ducks.’

I scoffed, ‘I don’t just talk about rubber ducks,’ I declared.

I was met with disbelieving looks from everyone.

‘I talk about pie and sugar too,’ I mumbled.

‘Pathetic,’ countered Potter, laughing when I stuck my tongue out at him in response.

Because I’m just that mature.

Al looked slightly taken aback, ‘When did you two become friends?’ he asked, aiming the question mainly at Potter.

‘We’re not friends,’ I answered, simply.

He nodded, but looked at me a bit strangely. His expression was almost, knowing. Fearful.

We all kind of drifted off into chat, I mainly talked to Albus. I hadn’t realised I’d missed him so much, because last year we had practically all the same classes together. Now we had none.

‘And so he says to the chicken, that’s not a pie, that’s my best friend!’ Al said, finishing a joke he was telling me.

I erupted into laughter, ‘That, Albus Potter, is the worst fucking joke I’ve ever heard.’

‘So why are you laughing so hard?’

We slid into comfortable silence, before he asked, ‘Halle, are you really just friends with James?’

‘Potter,’ I instantly corrected.

‘You’re deflecting the question, Hals,’ he said, using the nickname I hadn’t heard since first year.

I groaned, ‘I don’t know! I have so many preconceived notions, and it’s just a teenie-weenie bit confusing.’

I chuckled; there was the understatement of the century.

‘Plus he’s all cryptic and secretive and just, I. DON’T. KNOW.’ I complained, morphing into your typical teenager, complete with the angst-ridden rants.

Playing the part of the supportive best friend, Al just looked hopelessly confused, ‘I think you answered my question, but I can’t be sure.’

‘There is fine line between enemies and friends, Al. I think we may be dancing upon it.’ I replied.

Al furrowed his eyes in confusion, ‘Enemies?’

I nodded, ‘Isn’t that what you meant? You were asking me whether Potter was my arch nemesis.’

He laughed, a happy laugh which reverberated through his stomach, ‘I was asking whether or not you and James we dating, you nutter. I s’pose not though, correct?’

I sputtered, ‘Potter? Me? Dating? Where do you get these ideas from, Albus? Talk about preconceived notions.’

He shrugged, ‘You’re one of my best friends, and I don’t want you to become one of James’ slags. Trust me, he’s done the whole hook up and then break up thing so many times, I’ve lost count.’

I screwed my features in distaste, ‘Predictable.’

He laughed, ‘You’re made of strong stuff, Halle,’ he complemented, before gently pulling my head back onto his shoulder.

‘But Halle?’


‘Don’t fall for him, please.’

I laughed, just for good measure. The idea was ludicrous. Laughable. Just plain-out inconsequential.  ‘Just think of it this way, I’d rather be sexually involved with a rubber duck, then get feelings for Potter,’ I assured him, smiling up at my best friend/big brother. This is strange, because technically I’m a year older than him.

This makes him my little brother.

Nup, that’s not right, Al’s characteristics definitely put him into the big brother category.

And trust me, I know, I have two big brothers.

Well three, including Al.

He chuckled and kissed the top of my head, ‘I honestly can’t believe that you’re a year older than me. Your mental ability would say otherwise,’ he joked. Then his face turned serious, ‘I’m never going to let anything hurt you, little sis.’

Goddamit, I love Albus Severus Potter.

And not in that way, you wankers.

But I think he loves me, too.

Author's Note:
did you enjoy? did you hate? did you have a pie today? feel free to rant about the story or even horrible geography teachers in that little grey box. hope you liked :)

so ma homie from the hood, j-shizzle, owns all the cool shiz. i own Halle, although, she's a nutter, so who'd want her anyway?


belongs to the BBC, main writers: steven moffat & russel t davies; didn't even need to googe that shit! all imprinted in my mind.

anyways, this authors note is long. tata, lovely readers!

Chapter 9: Of Nutters and Family Reunions
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Chapter 9: Of Nutters and Family Reunions

‘No one appreciates my genius!’ shrieked an extremely high-pitched voice from our dorm-room door.

‘I want to be like Bathilda Bagshot when I grow up,’ I replied dreamily, my eyes not leaving the pages of Hogwarts: A History.

Elle laughed, ‘I want to be a troll when I grow up.’

Dom, who was the owner of the aforementioned high-pitched voice, scoffed very loudly, ‘You guys are so weird.’

I finally spared a glance to my temperamental Veela friend, whose hair was frizzled and a scowl plastered onto her face, ‘What’s up, Dom?’ I asked, tentatively.

And then Dom exploded. And we all died.

I joke, we didn’t die. We came close to it, though. Dom stormed into our room and flung the door shut, shrieking, ‘What’s wrong? What’s wrong!? JESSIE KURT IS WHAT IS WRONG!’

Ah, of course. Dominique had never liked Connor’s girlfriend, mainly because she was in love with Connor.

‘I just hate Jessie Kurt so goddamn much!’ Dom screeched frantically, dropping herself onto my lap and throwing my book on the floor. I pouted; books should be treated with respect I tell you!

‘She always sits with us now! And James and Freddie don’t even do anything about it anymore. It’s like they’ve embraced her presence!’

‘Well,’ Elle tried reasoning, very bravely if I do say so myself, ‘They have been dating for nearly a year.’

Dom wailed, ‘Why would you remind me?’

Elle shot me a panicked look, and I wracked my Ravenclaw-brain for a solution. ‘Elle has a crush on Freddie!’ I yelped.

Elle face palmed. Since I knew Dom’s violent mood-swings down to a tee, I wasn’t surprised in the slightest when her features lit up in excitement.


Elle shot me a glare, ‘I’ve liked him since third year. And please don’t meddle. Please, please, please,’ she begged, her pleas getting more pathetic as the sentence wore on.

Not wanting to lose one of my only friends, I turned to Dom, ‘Seriously, don’t meddle. They’re going at their own adorably slow pace. Give it a couple of months and the two will practically be inseparable,’ I reasoned, winking at Elle as she beamed in approval.

‘And as payback,’ Elle said, smiling creepily at me, ‘HALLE LOVES JAMES!’

Dom’s mouth dropped. My mouth dropped. And then we all died.

HAHA! I LIED AGAIN, we didn’t die. But I did pounce on Elle, successfully making her hair look like a frizz-ball. ‘She’s a liar! She always lies! Don’t believe her filthy lies!’

Elle giggled, ‘Yeah, she doesn’t love him, yet,’ she managed to squeeze out through her fits of laughter.

Dom’s eyebrows shot up to her forehead, but she nodded anyway, ‘Be careful of James, Halle. He’s a bit of a man-slut.’

I nodded gravely, ‘So I’ve been warned.’

Dom gave me a weary glance all too similar to Albus’s, ‘Seriously. He’s a twat when it comes to girls. And you’re too good for that, OK?’

I nodded again, ‘Alright, Dom.’

She grinned, her temporarily solemn mood discarded like an old chocolate frog wrapper, ‘Speaking of James, he gave me a message to give to you,’ she said, fishing out a piece of stained parchment from her robes.

This piqued my interest, ‘Curious. Very curious,’ I said, accepting the parchment.

‘Go on then, read it aloud,’ ordered Dom, heaving her legs onto my lap.

‘Thomas. The first task is approaching soon. I have managed to be awesome and score some information about it. It’s all about courage. I know you don’t have much, since you’re not in Gryffindor, but it’s going to be centred on courage. Last time the first task was to fight a dragon. Before that a cockatrice. So I suspect that we have to fight a large creature of some sort, as it seems to be a tradition. And this Tournament’s all about falling back into tradition. Meet me in the library tomorrow morning and we’ll research magical creatures, maybe ask Hagrid for some advice. Just, don’t be scared, alright?


Dom looked at me, all colour drained from her face, ‘Godric, Halle. I’d forgotten all about the Tournament! I mean, Beauxbatons barely leave their carriage, and Durmstrang never leave their ship. I just totally forgot! How are you holding up?’ she asked, patting my back in an attempt to be soothing.

I nodded in response; I’d already had heaps of these talks with Elle and Jordin, who seemed scared for my mental stability. I already knew I wasn’t going to win, since I paled in comparison to the other competitors.

But I was going to survive this Tournament. It would not be the death of me.

Besides, I’ve already planned out my death. I’ll be 87. They’ll be a puppy stranded on the middle of a road, on the brink of death. A young, crippled, blind girl will cry for her puppy. I will save the puppy. But on my way back to return it to the girl, I’ll trip over a rubber duck, get hit with a heart attack and die in the presence of all my cats.

Oh. What a life I’ll lead.

Anyway, I had been training with Potter. Every day. My fitness had improved (I was up to forty laps, and Potter had deemed it worthy). I’ve spent hours practicing various offensive and defensive spells with Jordin, Elle and Albus. Even McGonagall would help me out every once in a while.

I don’t want to brag, but I seriously feel ready for this.

Who am I kidding? Of course I want to brag. I shall sing a song.

In my head, of course. Don’t want Elle and Dom thinking I’m weird.



The song was meant to be that short. Short and sweet, just like me.

I smiled reassuringly to Dom, who looked concerned at my prolonged silence, ‘I’ve been training. I seriously have. Whatever they’re going to throw at me, I can handle it,’ I said, coolly.

Dom broke into a relieved grin, ‘You should have been in Gryffindor.’

Elle made a nuh-huh sound, ‘Absolutely not. ‘Claws for life,’ she said, fist bumping me.

I laughed when Dom rolled her eyes.


‘So Hagrid was no help,’ I complained, as Potter and I slumped onto the floors of the library. Officially accepting defeat.

There were hundreds of creatures we might have to fight. Thousands, even. Millions. Billions.

Dare I say it? Trillions.

‘I know!’ exclaimed Potter, ‘Last time Hagrid actually told my dad what the first task was. Why couldn’t he do the same for me?’

‘Because your name wasn’t intentionally put in the cup to resurrect the darkest wizard of all time?’ I suggested.

Potter groaned, ‘That is a possibility. Unlikely though.’

We had poured over books with every single kind of beast known to mankind. Honestly, if I read one more conspiracy about dragons or vampires I might explode.

So, to put it simply, I was absolutely bottered.

Is bottered even a word?

If not it means: Extremely tired, put-out etc.

Potter seemed pretty bottered too.

‘Bit of a fail, wasn’t it Thomas?’ he asked, turning to me, ‘I really thought we’d find something useful. I worked so hard to find that information.’

‘Speaking of which, where did you get that information from?’

Potter looked sheepish, ‘I may have broken into McGonagall’s office and looked at some of the letters she’d been sending to the Ministry. They were pretty guarded, so there was barely any information there. Just loads of shit about courage,’ he explained.

I let my jaw drop; he really does deserve his reputation as the Hogwarts badass.

‘How can you be so sure that we even have to fight a monster?’ I asked, ‘For all we know we might have to bake a cake and feed it to a troll.’

Actually, that would be a flipping fantastic task.

Potter shook his head, ‘I’m positive this Tournament is going to be just like the last. Falling back into tradition, that’s what McGonagall said.’

I nodded as I recalled our headmistress’s speech at the start of term.

I immediately stopped listening to Potter when he launched into his theory of the first task (which I had already heard. Twice. Something about aliens or some shit like that.) I kind of liked it when he just babbled on. It gave me time to think.

Potter and I had been training every day together. Every day. That was a full three hours dedicated to pure Potter/Halle one-on-one time, and saying that it was an experience similar to being locked up in a torture chamber, is a big, fat lie.

Because I actually enjoy his company.

A lot, actually.

What was even worse though was once we’d finish training, often I’d help the dim-witted Gryffindor to catch up on his homework. Being the nerdy Ravenclaw I was, it was physically impossible for me to begin our training sessions without finishing all assigned homework tasks first, even if it meant finishing astronomy chartings at dinner and completing Potions essays in History of Magic.

Because seriously, I’m a Ravenclaw, and even I can’t listen to the droning’s of Professor Binns.

Tentatively, I decided to try his name on my lips. See the way the word folded on my tongue.

‘Thomas?’ James interrupted, looking at me quizzically, ‘Are you listening to me?’

‘James,’ I blurted in response.

It was odd, kind of nice. No, actually, not nice. Interesting.

Very interesting.

‘Yes?’ he responded.

Wow, he responded to his name. Well, I mean of course he responded to his name, but it felt weird. Calling him James. He didn’t even seem to notice.

‘Halle, are you listening to me?’ he asked, once again.

Hang on; did he just call me Halle?

‘Uh, I, er-’ I began, oh-so-eloquently.

‘Someone’s feeling intellectual today, aren’t they?’ he replied, cocking an unimpressed eyebrow.

‘For your information, I’m always intellectual,’ I snapped, ‘You want proof? I’m a Ravenclaw. We have to answer a riddle just to get to our beds.’

‘Well we have to remember a password,’ he countered.

‘Ooh,’ I replied, in a mock-impressed tone, ‘You have to remember one whole word? Ten points to Gryffindor!’

He smiled. I smiled.

Is this what flirting is?

I was just about try out his name again, because it still felt strange and foreign on my tongue, when a voice from behind cooed, ‘Jaaaaaames.’

WHO’S THAT? THIS IS MY TIME WITH MY BOY. (The slang was deliberate.)

Wait, what do I care? Let them interrupt. I’m cool with that.

So not cool with it.

A very pretty brunette walked up to where we were sitting, arm-in-arm with none other but Jessie Kurt. I’m guessing they were best friends or something.

Potter looked annoyed, but put on a polite façade, ‘Can I help you, Kurt? Last I checked Connor was in the Common Room.’

Hopefully he was with Dom, planning their future wedding.

Jessie just (creepily) smiled and shook her head, laughing. Cackling, really, ‘No, silly!’ she exclaimed, flipping her hair over her shoulder, ‘I wanted to introduce you to my friend, Erica.’

She presented her friend with a flourish of her hand, and Erica stepped forward. Brazenly, she looked down at Potter, and said, her voice absolutely dripping with honey, ‘Hey there, James.’

I wanted to puke.

Suddenly, his name didn’t sound interesting anymore. Coming from her mouth, it sounded, slaggy.

Potter coughed, obviously his hormones were tingling.

My respect quota for him was dropping, if all it took was a pretty face and a squished up chest, Potter wasn’t as smart as I thought.

Is it strange I have the overwhelming urge to punch Erica in the nose?

Mwahaha. I will be known as Halle: Hogwarts Champion and Punching Superstar.

Great movie title.

‘So James,’ Jesse said, as I watched James and Erica have eye sex with each other, ‘Rumour has it you’re not dating anyone at the moment.’ She gave me a quick, disdainful look, before subtly pushing Erica even closer towards him.

Erica gigged, ‘I heard the same.’

‘Well ladies,’ he said, standing up, ‘You would have heard correct.’

They both erupted into a volcano of giggles.

Smirking as if to say oh-this-is-too-easy, he outstretched his hand, ‘Did you know, that one night with me and they’ll be calling you Moaning Myrtle?’

Oh. My. Merlin.




I couldn’t help but let out some sort of amazed choke/laugh, at the absolute corniness of his line. Erica glanced down at me and said coldly, ‘Do you want a lozenge, Thomas?’

I laughed again, ‘Nope. I just want Potter to learn some better pick-up lines for his slags.’

WOW. That was shocking. I’m not usually mean to people. At least, not to their face.

That’s what Gryffindors and Slytherins are for.

Everyone else seemed shocked by my comment too, but I just picked my bag off the floor, grabbed the first book I could see and headed for the door.

Because I just didn’t give a fuck.


‘Are you excited to see your parents?’ Potter asked, as we walked towards Professor McGonagall’s office.

It was but a week after the library incident, as I dubbed it, and if things went my way things would still be swimmingly awkward. But Potter didn’t seem too fazed by my uncharacteristic burst of jealousy, so I wouldn’t be either.

JEALOUS? I WASN’T JEALOUS. I was simply under the influence.


True story.

A whole week had passed in intense training sessions, which had started as soon as we were dismissed from class till at least 11pm. Teachers seemed to excuse our lack of homework, since we were the Hogwarts champions and all.

But I found it unacceptable. If I wasn’t so freaked out about the Tournament, I would be having a hyperventilating attack from my pile of homework.

Its height rivalled that of the Astronomy Tower.

But my homework was overshadowed with the possibility that I could be dead in a week’s time.

But I decided not to think about that.

We were currently on our way to meet our families in McGonagall’s office. I was hoping beyond hope that both my brothers- Bob and Derek would have come too.

And Dad would have to be there. He didn’t have a life, so it wasn’t like he was busy.

‘Actually, it’s just my dad. My mum died when I eight,’ I explained, looking straight ahead.

Yup, there it was. The pitying expression. He was sending it to me as we speak. I had gotten used to the fact of my mother’s absence, although it was still a sore spot for me.

I tried to think that she was just on an extended vacation, having the time of her life partying away on an eternal cruise.

It’s just how I deal with it.

‘Stop that,’ I ordered him, halting in the middle of the corridor.

He stopped with me, ‘Stop what?’

‘Pitying me. I’m fine, really. What about you? Are you excited about seeing your parents?’ I asked, rooting for a quick subject change.

Potter nodded, quickly realising my mum’s death was not something I talked about. ‘I hope it really is just my parents. With a family as crazy as mine, I wouldn’t be surprised if every single Weasley/Potter showed up,’ he said, with a rueful smile.

I returned the smile, ‘I want my brothers to be there. Bob and Derek. They’re ace, really. You’ll love them,’ I said.

Not that I want my brothers to meet Potter so they can approve or anything. Nothing like that.

As we entered the room, I took in the two parties who looked like they had just flooed in. I was absolutely ecstatic to see my Dad, Bob and Derek in the corner, dusting each other’s heads off in an attempt to get rid of all the soot.

‘Dad!’ I squealed and I threw my arms around his neck as he picked me up slightly off the ground. ‘What’s up, kiddo?’

‘Dad, I’m a champion! For the Triwizard Tournament!’ I exclaimed as he set me down, ‘Oh. My. God. I forgot to tell you! I’m a horrible daughter! You should just lock me away for the rest of eternity! Goodbye, cruel world!’

I was so happy to see them I didn’t even care that I was acting so loopy.

He laughed, ‘And that is why you’re my favourite kid,’ he said, winking.

‘Hey! That’s just rude dad. Just plain rude,’ exclaimed Bob, shaking his head at Dear ol’ Dad.

I was then engulfed in a hug by both of them at exactly the same time. Screw them and their twin telepathy. I was then released from their bone crunching hug only to be hugged by each of them individually, for at least ten seconds. Bob wouldn’t let go until I started hitting him on the back yelling, ‘Let go of me, you crazy psychopath!’

He finally returned me to the ground, and we were greeted by amused glances from McGonagall and the Potter’s. I had been so happy about seeing my family I had missed out on Potter’s reunion.

It probably wasn’t emotional. He was a guy, after all. He saved his emotions for Quidditch games.

I blushed slightly, but Bob and Derek didn’t seem to notice. Bastards.

Dad had been talking to the Potter’s while we had our sibling reunion, and returned as soon as I had been released from the evil clutches of Bob.

 ‘Of course I know you’re a Champion!’ he said, slightly swatting me on the head, ‘It’s been all over the Daily Prophet, and I’ve sent at least ten letters, Halle. I was about to floo straight to McGonagall’s office when I got the invitation asking me to come to Hogwarts the day before the first challenge.’

I narrowed my eyes slightly, ‘Ten letters, you say? Damn that Larry, I always knew one day he’d let me down.’

Derek made a harrumph sound, ‘Don’t blame this on Larry. He was fine when we used him. Besides we offered to buy you a new owl, but you just had to have Larry,’ Derek said, smiling at me while he teased.

‘He was a Thomas Legacy. I had to uphold our family honour.’

Derek smiled. ‘We’ve missed you, kiddo.’

It was their nickname for me: kiddo. No points for originality, but I loved it all the same.

I smiled at all three of them, ‘It’s absolutely great to see you.’

Bob and Derek had both graduated five years earlier, making them seventh years when I was a first. Bob was a healer at St Mungos, a top-notch one too. People had to book well in advance to be treated by him.

Family pride.

Derek was an Unspeakable. I have absolutely no fucking idea what he does. No one does. Hence the mysterious title.

We only spent one year at Hogwarts together, I was in first and they were in seventh.

They made it absolute hell.

As I’ve said previously: Bastards.

But I love them.

McGonagall cleared her throat and everyone paid her attention. I found it weird that everyone in that room had been taught by her.

Damn that woman got around.

Should I re-enter her fan club?

Not yet, she has to earn it.

‘Tomorrow, as you all are aware of, is the day of the First Challenge in the Tournament! Champions, please feel free to remain in my office with your family or travel the school grounds, however I warn you,’ she said, sending pointed looks to Harry and Ginny (sorry, Mr and Mrs Potter), ‘That you are considered as celebrities around here and will be treated as such.’

Mr Potter cleared his throat uncomfortably, ‘And what exactly does that mean?’

McGonagall pursed her lips, ‘Don’t be surprised if you are flocked by students. Some are, quite obsessive. I do believe Mr Potter (she looked at James when she said so) has his own fan club?’

Potter nodded enthusiastically, beaming with pride.

Ginny burst into laughter, ‘I suppose Harry had one too, didn’t he Dean? There was you, me, Seamus, Luna, Ron, Hermione and Neville. Remember that time you drew that banner for his Quidditch game?’ asked Ginny, before launching into a conversation about the good old days.

So the parents were entertained. I decided to introduce Potter to Bob and Derek.

My motives are still unclear. Perhaps I just wanted approval. Or something.

I beckoned for Potter to leave his parents with my dad, who were animatedly chatting about all the memories from ‘Dumbledore’s Army’; Merlin knows what that was.

‘Bob, Derek, this is Potter,’ I said, ‘Potter is my-’ there was an awkward pause as I tried to fill in the gap, ‘Friend?’

Potter rolled his eyes, ‘Well I can just feel the love, Thomas.’

In complete synchronization, Bob and Derek raised their eyebrows at me disbelievingly.

Bob coughed, ‘So can we,’ he said suggestively.

The two then raised their eyebrows in complete synchronisation, looking at their pair of us knowingly. I do believe this was where Derek started humming, ‘Halle and Potter, sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G.’

You get the picture.

Flippin’ bastards.

Authors Note:

hopefully you answered in the positive. as reviews are desired. and that little grey box is so lonely. feed him some words.
everything precious belongs to the mightiest of rowlings. of the JK variety.
yes. good. excellent. REVIEW! very good. excellent. REVIEW AND ALL SHALL BE WELL!

Chapter 10: Chapter 10: Of Nutters and Awkward Shoulder-Sniffing
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Chapter 10: Of Nutters and Awkward Shoulder-Sniffing


I’m totally calm.

Like, calm people look at me and think holy shit, that girl is calm.

Because I’m just so calm like that.


And I’m sorry for that.


I was currently curled in a ball on my bed, the covers over my head, trying to block out the world. Why, you ask, is the crazy Halle acting even crazier?



This is not your average Quidditch Game bitches, it’s some intense shit. And I’m really scared.

I predicted by the coldness of the air that it was still early morning, and Elle was on my bed, trying to soothe me by patting my back through the covers.

‘Halle, babe it’ll be OK. You’re amazing; you’re probably going to win this.’

Lies. She’s nothing but lies.

I continued making my whimpering noises and she sighed and got up. Was she leaving me? Oh thank god.

I was enjoying this time alone, when I could panic to myself. I should make a panic room. And it will have lots of different things to cheer me up.

Like a pie maker. And a pile of sugar, and a-a-


The door to the dormitory opened again, and I heard heavy footsteps enter the room. That didn’t sound like Elle, unless she had managed to gain fifteen pounds in that short amount of time.

It is a possibility.

‘Elle?’ I asked, through the blanket.

‘Sorry Halle, its James.’

James? James who?

Oh right, Potter of course.

He said my name, again. Not Thomas, but Halle.

I was quite curious, but not curious enough to leave the safety of my blankets, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Elle ambushed me at my dorm, she was really worried.’

He sat on my bed in the position Elle was in previously. Wow, he was warm. I was suddenly overtaken with the urge to move closer to him, but I banished the though from my mind. It was silly.

He held a hand out and took me firmly by the shoulder, probably in an attempt to stop my violent shaking.

I tensed at his touch, but his attempt failed, since I just continued shivering. He moved further onto my bed so he was practically sitting opposite me, nothing but a blanket between us. I could see his faint outline through the woollen fabric, and I could tell he was worried. He placed both hands on my shoulders, which succeeded in stopping my shakes, and he then looked at me intently.

He probably looks really stupid staring at a blanket.

‘Halle, take the blanket off,’ he ordered.

He said it again. Halle.

‘No. It’s safe in here. And warm,’ I said, although it was getting kind of stuffy.

‘You’re going to run out of air soon.’

‘I’ll buy some more.’

‘From who?’

‘The air fairies.’

‘They don’t exist. Halle, take the blanket off.’

There he goes again, calling me Halle.

His tone was made up of two different layers, one stern and the other remained undecipherable. Practically non-existent, but definitely there.

Gingerly, I poked my head out of the blankets, to see him still staring at me intently, hands still on shoulders.

‘Halle, are you alright?’

His eyes did have flecks of gold dancing around his irises. It was absolutely captivating. The weak sunlight which had pushed its way through the early morning clouds highlighted the tiny speckles, illuminating his eyes. It was, mesmerizing.

I had always known James was hot, but he really was beautiful too.

And there was his name again. Taunting. Devilish. Almost daring me to try it, wanting me to taste it on my lips. True, I might be over exaggerating this whole first-name thing. But it was a matter of principle. To me, he caved first. I don’t care. He’s called me Halle, what is it, three consecutive times now? I think it’s time I deemed him with a response.

I opened my mouth to speak, but something was blocking the words from coming out. I started panicking a little bit, because I was always able to talk. Like always. The only time I ever shut up was when people put a silencing charm on me.

‘Halle? You OK, there?’

I managed a weak nod, which then changed to a violent shake, ‘What do you think? I’m about to complete some task I know absolutely nothing about and there is a huge possibility I might die. DIE! I DON’T WANT TO FUCKING DIE, JAMES! I miss my mum but I don’t want to see her just yet.’

Honestly, I’m not sure where that all came from. It all became a bit of hogwash after I said his name.



I had tricked everyone, even myself, into thinking that I was ready for this. But I wasn’t.

James’s eyes softened and I felt my will weaken. I was usually strong as a rock, but this wasn’t one of my best moments. I bit my lip in an attempt to ebb the flow of water, but to no result. I was crying.

Screw you, tears! I am a strong, individual woman, I do not go crying to a man every time something gets in my way.

I quickly began brushing them away and willed myself to stop, ‘I’m sorry,’ I apologized, ‘You probably don’t want to deal with a crying wuss at six in the morning,’ I said, checking my clock.

‘Jesus, Halle,’ he said closing the distance between us and engulfing me in a hug. I gratefully slumped into his body, and wrapped my arms around him. He was warm.

Great, there goes the stomach. And now the heart. Screw you, hormones.

He gently stoked the back of my head, leaving trails of fire as he did so, ‘It’s alright to be scared, Halle. I’m freaking out here, too. But it’s not like anything that bad could ever happen to us. You’re not going to die. Elle won’t allow that. Neither will Jordin. And…and I won’t either.

Besides, there’s a huge difference between begin a wuss and being scared. But you shouldn’t be scared; after all you’ve been training. You’re Halle fucking Thomas, the crazy girl who kicks arse at everything she does. You can’t give up; you’ve still got to start that Rubber Duck Club, right?’

I chuckled slightly, oddly touched by his attempt to cheer me up. It was obvious this boy was used to it, growing up in a family mainly consisting of females.

I nodded in his chest and saw some sense in his somewhat childish words. He was right. I was awesome, and I did have Rubber Duck Club to start. And all of this, it wasn’t too much for me.

I could handle it.

We sat in this position for quite a while, it could have been a minute, it could have been an hour, but it wasn’t awkward. It just wasn’t. Eventually James began to retract his arms which were still tight around my waist. My face was still buried in his chest and I made a protesting sound, so he just hugged me tighter.

I moved my head from his chest and rested it on his shoulder. Merlin, he smelled nice. Even in the morning, when he probably didn’t have any time to shower, he still smelled nice. I’ve got to ask him what kind of soap he used, because it was the oddest combination of peppermint and Quidditch.

Quidditch smells of broom polish and grass in case you didn’t you know.

I inhaled deeply a couple of times, and was slightly surprised when a ripple of laughter shook through James’s body, vibrating mine along with it.

‘Halle, are you sniffing my shoulder?’


I blushed furiously, thanking Merlin that he couldn’t see me, ‘What? Me? What? My nose doesn’t even work properly.’

Great, now he’s going to think I lack the sense of smell.

He just laughed again, ‘If you say so, Halle. So are we good?’

I finally retracted from the hug slightly, my arms still around his waist, just so I could look him in the eyes when I replied, ‘We good, homie.’



first task is a'coming next chapter, sooo yeah. BE EXCITED! OR NOT. IM NOT TOO IFFY. anyway, i wrote a poem for you lovely reader/potential reviewer

roses are red

violets are blue

you hopefully read this chapter

so maybe you'll review it too!


Chapter 11: Of Nutters and the First Task
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Chapter 11: Of Nutters and the First Task

I took some deep breaths as I stood inside the Triwizard Champion tent, the school in a complete frenzy outside. Like seriously, I think someone peed their pants.

Scratch that, I think more than one person has peed their pants.


Now I can’t exactly say I’m completely new to this whole being-in-the-centre-of-attention thing, since I’ve been in my fair share of Quidditch Games, but this was taking it to a whole new level. The crowd was screaming for blood, and I just hoped it wasn’t mine.

There weren’t just students though; there were heaps of adults crowding the stands, looking absolutely thrilled.

Irresponsible bastards.

We were currently crowded around the Minister, who had a grim expression on his face as he began explaining the task. James wrapped his fingers around mine, and I gave his hand a little squeeze.

To any third party watching our interactions, you’d think that we like each other. You know, in that way. But we don’t. No. Not even slightly. Nup, nup, nup, nup, not all.

Besides, I’ve failed to mention that James has gotten alarmingly chummy with his new slag (I mean lady friend) Erica. She was out there right now, wearing his Quidditch jersey.

Bitch was wearing his jersey. And everyone knows that means something.

Why the hell was I stressing about this? I was about to hear the first task for crying out loud!

‘Champions,’ Kingsley began, ‘The Challenges have been selected and developed so as to result in the lowest chances of death. The First Task is anything from easy, so we have put in place two safety words, to yell out if one believes themselves to be in mortal danger without rescue.

Be warned, the use of these words, even once, will incinerate the challenge completely, putting you in complete and instant safety. However you will be disqualified from the First Task, earning you zero points for the Tournament.’ he looked around to make sure everyone understood.

I nodded earnestly, say magic word, bye-bye monster, hello safety.

‘What’s ze safety word?’ asked Adrianne.

‘We’ve chosen an odd word so you don’t say it by accident- Pygmy Puff.’

‘Pygmy puffs are cute. Happy thoughts, Halle, happy thoughts,’ I muttered to myself. James smiled amusedly down at me, but subtly retracted his hand from mine.


Like hell if I care, I already know I’m sexy.

‘Is that clear?’ asked Kingsley, ‘The safety words are PYGMY PUFF.’

We all nodded, and David gestured for him to continue.

The Minister took a deep breath and continued explaining, ‘A box, with an object inside, has been placed in the care of a Boggart. You’re task is to retrieve said box, and without it you will be not be able to proceed onto future tasks. But, do not sigh in relief, for these are not your regular Boggarts.’

I visibly stiffened as he continued; nervousness began eating away in my stomach.

‘These Boggarts have been magically engineered to be immune to the Ridikulus charm, meaning they will quite literally, turn into your biggest fear. It has been programmed however, to flick through your top fears and morph into the most appropriate one for the challenge. If you’re worst fear, for example, was seeing your mother dying, it wouldn’t exactly prove to be a very interesting Tournament. So, the Boggart will turn into something you will either need to trick or fight.’

As if the situation couldn’t get any worse, Kingsley’s face turned graver.

‘However I am afraid that is not all, as these Boggarts will harness your fear and magnify it ten times, amplifying its intensity. Now, I believe it is clear why the safety words are needed.

The acquiring of this box is vital, and if you fail to do so you miss out on an imperative part of the Second Task. To fail now, is to fail in the Tournament. Understood?’

There was a solemn silence as everyone soaked up what Kingsley had said.

I’m pretty sure it’s safe to say I died a little on the inside.

Boggarts were bad enough when they weren’t amplified ten times. And magically engineered to be immune to the Ridikulus charm? Was that even possible?

I have one question.




The other champions were wearing identical petrified expressions, although I’m sure mine, somehow, was even more petrified.

‘Good. The order will be alphabetical, so David,’ Kingsley said, turning to the Durmstrang Champion.


‘You’re up.’




David and James both scored thirty. 

Thirty freaking points out of forty.

I don’t know how and I don’t know why (No champions were allowed to watch each other’s tasks, as it gave them an unfair advantage) but they got 75%.

That’s a good mark.

To top it all off, both the boys managed to claim the box as their own, and David didn’t even need to go to the hospital wing. James did though, although at the time I didn’t give a fuck.

But I promise I really did care about his safety.


Yes, I know, aren’t I such a wonderful human being?

I felt like I was going to throw up when Kingsley waltzed into the tent and turned to me, ‘Your turn, Halle. Best of luck, you’ll do fine out there.'

I was afraid if I opened my mouth to thank him, I would up-chuck.

I took a few deep breaths as I willed my confidence to grow. There was no point being nervous, I had to grow some balls and get this fucking thing over and done with.

I stepped out in the arena, which looked exactly like the Quidditch pitch, except instead of grass there was stone. Stone everywhere, beneath my feet, above my head. The crowd went ecstatic as I stepped out into the light, and I could see Elle and Jordin all the way from here both looking as nauseous as I did.

Don’t know why though, it’s not like they were in the fucking Tournament or anything.

OK, that was mean, I take it back. But you have to cut me some slack; IT’S THE MORTAL TERROR TALKING. 

James was there too, side by side with Albus. He looked terrible, bruise above the left eye, scratches everywhere. His right arm was in a sling and he was sitting down instead of standing up. I think he may have even had a cast.

He caught me staring and he shot me an encouraging smile. I couldn’t bring myself to smile back. 

I managed a weak wave, which sent the crowd crazy. Suddenly, silence fell, as the Minister took the podium and yelled, ‘Let the Challenge begin!’

A creature was dropped into the middle of the arena, and everyone inched forward to see what it was. I’ve got to say, I was impressed, this was a pretty clever idea. No one knew what my worst fear was. Not even me.

But I was going to find out.


The creature began to morph, and it flicked through a couple of shapes, most of them too blurry to discern. There was a crunch and a slurp as the creature took a rough, humanoid silhouette.


I frantically wracked my brain for what my biggest fear could be. A werewolf was a possibility, since back in Third Year I was terrified of those things. But instinct told me the Boggart was to eerily human to be anything supernatural. 


I, along with the crowd gasped as the creature turned into none other than James Potter, with an uncharacteristic evil glint in his eye. I nearly toppled over from surprise.


Alright. This was some weird shit. How on earth was James freaking Potter my biggest fear?


Then, with the horrid feeling in my stomach that the worst was yet to come, I forced myself to concentrate. If the Boggart was meant to magnify your fear by ten…


Boggart-James began to duplicate, and soon I was surrounded by a ring of ten people. 

Albus, Jordin, Elle, Freddie, Connor, Dom, James and worst of all Bob, Derek and Dad.


They seemed to be the people I loved the most.


They all wore identical evil expressions, wands drawn, and Boggart-James was holding a box. I felt my courage crumble, what exactly did I have to do to get that stupid thing?


So what was my fear? My friends? My family? I wasn’t scared of them.


But then, it all came falling into place.


In complete synchronization, spells were shot at me from every direction. I zoned out, giving complete control to my survival instinct. 


So this is what they were making me do? Fight my best friends and family? 




Easier said than done, of course. 


‘Protego!’ I yelled, a shield erupting around me from all directions, sending the spells straight back at my friends. Inhaling sharply when Boggart-Elle fell due to her own full body bind curse, it took all my resolve to not rush over and revive her.


I couldn’t hear the crowd anymore; I was blocking everything out, focusing only on that box. Boggart-James was leaning casually against the wall, an amused expression on his face as he levitated the box in front of him.


I had a feeling I would have to deal with him last.


Why was James even here? When did he even become part of my life?


Boggart-Jordin shot a spell towards me, and I ducked and commando rolled behind a boulder.


Distinctly I could hear a collective ‘oooh’ around the audience, and I beamed with pride.


Focus, Halle, focus.


I turned from both sides of the boulder, sending spells flying haphazardly, ‘Expelliarmus! Petrificus Totalus! Incendio! Confringo!’ I yelled, a stream of varying curses flowing out of my mouth, getting worse and worse as the seconds wore by.


After at least two minutes of non-stopping, random spell-shooting, I stepped away from the boulder to see the damage I had caused. Boggart-Dom was locked in a body-bind curse, and I looked for Boggart-Jordin but I think my Incendio charm turned him to ash. Both Boggart-Freddie and Boggart-Connor were disarmed.


Again, handing over to my survival instinct, I yelled the first spell to come to my mind, ‘Reducto!’ I screamed, aiming at the two Boggarts.


Bad idea.


Freddie and Connor vanished in a blink. Both murdered with my crude choice of spell.


I stood there, mouth agape, horrified by what I just did.


Did I just kill two of my best friends?


In my state of complete shock, I was completely ignorant of Albus stepping out from behind another boulder. I was even more ignorant when he shot an expertly aimed, ‘Expelliarmus.’




I watched in terror as my wand flew across the arena, a couple of feet away. I was at Albus’s complete mercy. 


Biting my lip, I dodged and ducked his armada of spells, an uncomfortable sensation spreading through me as one of his curses skimmed the top of my head, singing off my fringe.


I managed to make it to another boulder, which I quickly ducked behind. I closed my eyes and concentrated; hard. But I didn’t plan out my time, because in a matter of seconds, Boggart-Al was standing above me, wand outstretched and cutting into my throat.


I squeezed my eyes shut as pure adrenaline coursed through my body. My vision seemed sharper, and it all seemed to zoom in on jagged, weapon-like rock laying inches from my fingers.


‘What a horrible way to die, being killed by your best friend. But that’s alright, it’s not like I ever loved you anyway,’ Boggart-Al taunted, readying himself for the final blow.


In one swift movement, so quickly I didn’t even see myself doing it, I grabbed the stone and clubbed him across the head. He fell to the floor, his body collapsing on top of mine, trapping me underneath his Quidditch-toned chest.


I could have shoved him off easily, but my whole situation was getting to me. I know I didn’t do anything to harm the real Albus, but the fact that his unconscious body was atop mine weakened my will to do anything. 


The crowd remained in sombre silence, as I noticed my pathetic sniffling was resonating throughout the whole arena. The whole school was hearing me cry, just because I clubbed a Boggart on the head.


Suddenly, a voice cut through the air, which was already heavy with tension. It was Al’s. The real Al.


‘Halle! I’m fine! Get your bloody wand!’

My eyes grew wide as his achingly familiar voice boomed throughout the arena, reminding me that I had to finish this.


I just had to.


With the muscles toned from my James Training Sessions, I flipped Boggart-Al’s unconscious body off me with ease, and I raced through the arena with a renewed will.


My wand soon entered my line of sight, and I looked around the crowd to remind myself that all my friends and family were safe. Being the easily distracted nutter I am, I inevitably tripped over a protruding stone, and was sent flying to the ground. I did a quick check.


Everything seemed to be working; a couple of grazes but those were insignificant.


Grabbing my wand, I realised I was high on pure adrenaline. Al was fine. Everyone was fine. These were just Boggarts. That’s all.


But I felt my new resolve crumble, when Boggart-Bob, Boggart-Derek and Boggart-Dad approached me.


Oh shit.


They were so real, so life-like. I had to pinch my arm to remind myself they weren’t.

Boggart-Dad looked down at me, a cruel sneer on his face, and he whispered, ‘Crucio.’


The pain was blinding. Absolutely horrific. It was as if every inch of my skin had been pulled and bitten, and then burnt, and then bitten again. My screams echoed through the arena, and everyone looked down in some sort of horrified fascination. I bit down on my lip to stop my squeals and clutched my wand till my knuckles turned white, and I felt a foot land hard on my chest.


‘Last words, Thomas?’ Boggart-Derek sneered.


My Derek never sneers.


Through my straggled breaths, I managed to nod, clutching my wand as if it was my lifeline, ‘Yes. Just two. Petrificus Totalus.’


I spat the words out with venom. These things were not my family, and I wasn’t going to let them steal their identities. I had to stay strong. 


All three were sent flying backwards, and hit the stone walls of the arena with a sickening crunch. As soon as they hit the ground, everyone vanished. 




Albus, Jordin, Elle, Freddie, Connor, Dom, Bob, Derek and Dad. They just turned into mist and shot upwards.


I sighed in relief, and the crowd erupted into cheers. I looked up to see everyone beaming with pride, Jordin, Elle and Dad. But Al still looked petrified. 


Why was he petrified?


‘Good show, good show!’ said a voice from behind me. It was cold, and sarcastic, and so achingly familiar.


I froze in shock. Of course. All the other Boggarts had disappeared, because it was time for the finale. 


It was time to fight James.


He pushed himself off the wall, just like he did during Potions, and began to make his way towards me. I pushed myself off the ground, ignoring my body as it screamed in protest.


‘Expelliarmus!’ I cursed, but he deflected it with a jerk of his arm. I tried again. And again.


But the curses just bounced off him, like he was invincible.


‘If you want this box,’ he whispered, ‘You’re going to have to kill me.’


I nearly dropped my wand in shock. Kill him? Yeah, no thanks buddy, I’d rather not go to Azkaban for killing the son of the saviour of the Wizarding world. 


Unable to form a coherent sentence due to the blinding pain and the utter confusion, I adamantly shook my head.


Scoffing, Boggart-James rolled his eyes, ‘Killing someone is easy, Halle. Here let me show you. Crucio!'


My body crumpled to the floor. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out. It was like my lungs had been ripped apart and then rubbed against sandpaper. All I had to do was yell out two, oddly chosen words, and I would be safe.


But I was so close.


Gritting my teeth together so hard my gums split, I managed to half-crouch, half-stand while my body was still convulsing. ‘Imperio,’ I muttered.


The pain left. James was standing there, like a rag doll, a vacant look in his eye. I felt myself panicking. What the hell was I doing? This was an Unforgiveable Curse! I was going to Azkaban for this shit!


My wand grew shaky, and I could feel myself lose my temporary control over him. He came back to his senses and grinned, ‘Nice try. Alarte Ascendare.’


I shot high into the air, and then felt myself plummeting. Every single cell of my body was screaming in terror, but I let survival-Halle take over again. I shot a quick cushioning charm at the ground, it cushioned my fall, but not enough to stop my shoulder from dislocating.


I winced at the throbbing ache and stared at Boggart-James, my vision blurry from the pain.


I just wanted to curl up in a ball and die, but that wasn’t going to happen.


‘Aren’t you angry yet?’ taunted Boggart-James, ‘Kill me and it will all be over with. Finished. Just two little words, Halle, and the Challenge will be over. You’d have won.’


I shook my head violently, there was no way in hell I would ever kill James, or anyone for that matter, even if he was just a Boggart.


I gritted my teeth and instantly tasted blood, but I pushed all blood-related thoughts to the back of my mind and muttered a quick ‘Repairo’ to my shoulder. It felt monumentally better, although my healing skills were never top-notch. It was definitely still broken.


It was time to end this. 


‘Accio box,’ I yelled, and even I was surprised when the wooden box came zooming through the air towards me. I smiled. Things were finally turning up Halle.


Boggart-James looked shocked, ‘How did you do that?’


Blinding pain? Check. Sacred out of my wits? Check. About to pass out from the agony? Check.


But I had to finish this Task, and I was going to do it in style.


Despite feeling like my skin was on fire, I smirked and replied, ‘With pure awesomeness.’


The crowd began cheering again. James and Al stood up, the applause growing in decibels until it was absolutely deafening. Boggart-James looked around in shock, his head twitching in disorientation. But still, no charm would work on him, except for the Killing Curse. And I was not using that.


And then an idea flashed through my mind, it was extremely crazy and probably wouldn’t work, but I already had the box, so I had nothing to lose.


Plus the noise of the crowd seemed to affect the Boggart, who was looking around uneasily at the source of the noise.


Pouring every emotion I had encountered ever since entering the arena, and trust me, I had encountered a lot; I drew my wand and leveled it at Boggart-James’s chest. 


‘Riddikulus!’ I managed to shout over the crowd’s frenzy. Suddenly, all was silent, everyone’s eyes on me and the red curse which was emitting from the piece of wood clutched tightly in my grasp. I could feel the power jostling through my wand, the red sparks visibly shooting every which way, landing squarely in Boggart-James’s chest.


His eyes flew wide before he dissipated, turning into mist, and then shooting up towards the sky.


The crowd went absolutely fanatic.


I didn’t get any time to revel in my own glory, because once the spell was complete it was like a gale force wind knocked me over; stealing every fiber of energy I had left. Absolutely drained; I fell to my knees, a sickening crack resonating through the arena as I felt them break. But I didn’t care. I was already unconscious by the time they even started to hurt.

so, last chapter i wrote you a poem. i like writing poems. i'll write you a haiku.

this is a fanfic
about a weird girl and pie
please rate and review ;)

aren't i artsy? MUHHAHAHAHA. im not. BUT REVIEW PLEASE :D
disclaimer; everything belongs to jk. like you didn't already know ;)

Chapter 12: Of Nutters and General Loopiness
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Chapter 12: Of Nutters and General Loopiness


Ouchie. That was the single thought which flooded my mind as soon as I woke up.


Everywhere hurt. Like everywhere. My head felt like it was deflated, and I wanted to poke it repeatedly to make sure it was still circular. My shoulder seared in pain every time I attempted to move it. Oh and don’t even get me started on my knees. I couldn’t see them but I could tell that they had swollen up to thrice their size.

The rest of my body just ached. Every time I moved, even if it was just an inch, every single cell screamed in protest. So I decided not to move.

I managed to wrench my eyes open, and this was quite a task considering it felt like they had been glued together, to be welcomed a very large noise which did nothing to help my pounding skull.

‘Oh my god, she’s awake!’

‘Is she alright? Someone get her a pie!’

‘Do you reckon she’s in pain? Sweetie are you in pain?’

‘Why isn’t that pie here yet?’

‘Hold on! Make way for Madame Jett!’

Bones still unable to move, I felt a light tap to my forehead, which instantly sent a wave of relief through my body, soothing my burning muscles ever-so-slightly.

Despite lying flat on my back, I could feel the expectant stares of all the well-wishers gathered around my bed. Heaving myself up, I held my arms out zombie-style and yelled, ‘I LIIIIVEEEEE!’

Godric, I am nuts.

There was a nervous chuckle from Al, which soon had everyone laughing (in relief hopefully. Since they were grateful about seeing their favourite person in the world.)

Almost immediately I was engulfed in a huge hug from a frenzied Elle, who looked like she’d been pulling her hair out. She let go immediately when I winced and she looked stricken, ‘I’m so sorry, Halle! But I was so worried. Are you alright?’

I nodded as the memories flowed back to me. Did I really do that? Did I really just pass the first task? I DID IT! AND I’M ALIVE! I LIVE TO SEE ANOTHER DAY! O THANK THE LORD OF PIES!

And then, in an epic moment of remembrance, the rest of the task hit me. Staring in horror at the eager well-wishers by my bed, my brain just sort of froze.

It went kaput.

Glassily staring at nothing at all, Albus waved a hand in front of my eyes; ‘Is she alright?’

Furrowing her eyebrows, Madame Jett shrugged, ‘She’s still a little broken and bashed, but nothing to create symptoms like this.’

Grunting knowingly, Dad came forward and clicked loudly next to my ears, successfully jolting me out of my trance, ‘She does that sometimes, when she’s…overwhelmed.’

After another couple of minutes of silence, everyone started looking a little concerned.

‘Halle?’ Dom asked, ‘Do you want to say something?’

‘SAY SOMETHING?’ I yelled, my eyes probably looking frenzied, ‘WHAT’S TO SAY? I KILLED YOU ALL!’ In a fit of despair, I threw myself back down onto the bed, covering my face with my sheets, too ashamed to see them.

I had actually harmed every single one of them in that arena. And that fucking terrified me.

What if things could never get back to normal after this?

‘Oh, sweetie,’ I heard Dom croon, ‘You did nothing. You hear me? Those were Boggarts. And we are humans. So you should be guilt-free,’ she assured, presenting me with her fool-proof logic.

Her fool-proof logic of LIES!

I noticed James was in the bed next to mine, but he seemed to be out cold. His arm still in a sling and his body covered with bruises. If he looked like that; I must’ve been a sight for sore eyes.

After a little speech from all of my friends and family, each saying how they weren’t affected in the slightest by what happened in the arena, I was eventually coaxed out from under my blankets with the promise of pie.

It only took two hours but they did it.

I’m a difficult person when I’m depressed. Usually it takes a whole day of moping in bed to make me feel a little better. Like the time I discovered Scorpius was cheating on me. Or when Curtin (my favourite House-Elf) caught a nasty cold, and I thought he was going to die.


So, murdering my friends and family (you know what I mean) definitely required a few days of moping to get over, even if everyone kept fussing over me.

But the grumbling of my tummy and the smell of apple pie got me to cut my moping short, and I gratefully grabbed the pie off Al and started devouring it like a rabid possum.

Freddie smiled, ‘At least we know she still likes to eat, even though she hasn’t said a word these past two hours.’

Elle patted him on the shoulder, ‘She’s moping. She never talkswhen she’s moping. It’s tradition. In fact, I’m kind of relieved, this is typical Halle behaviour. I think she’s gonna be alright.’

I swallowed a little of my pie in response.

Al stared at me expectantly, ‘Feeling any better, m’dear?’

I cleared my throat, attracting everyone’s attention (Connor and Jordin had even started playing Exploding Snap, since I was being such a Silent Sally) and I stared down at the apple filling to give me something to.

‘So you guys don’t hate me for, you know, murdering you?’ I asked, tentatively.

Dad hugged me, swiping a bit of my pie on the way, ‘Why would you even have to ask?’

Smiling at the supportive faces looking down on me, I felt monumentally better. It was quite a nice moment, you know. All sappy and shit. So of course, Freddie had to go and ruin it.

‘STACKS ON HALLE TO SHOW HER WE LOVE HER!’ he yelled, jumping on top of me.

I groaned.

Not because of the pain or anything. But because he squished my pie.

And nobody squishes my pie.



I think things will go back to normal just fine.


After three hours of coddling and cotton-wolling, some of my entourage decided to leave.

Yeah. That’s right. I have an entourage.

And we’re going to ignore the fact that it mainly consisted of my family.

Bob, Derek and Dad along with Mr and Mrs Potter had to head back to their jobs, which disappointed me a little. But my family promised to be back for the second task.

And then; with the help of a little green powder, they were gone.


Now I know what betrayal feels like.

James had woken up as soon as his parents had left, which I had found a little suspicious. Did he pretend to be unconscious so he wouldn’t have to talk to them?

He is a bad son.

But he’s a pretty good friend, since he quickly informed something which everyone else seemed to have forgotten about.

‘HALLE!’ he yelled, turning to face me, ‘YOU SCORED THIRY-EIGHT!’

There were whoops of appreciation from around the room and I nearly dropped my (fourth) pie. ‘Did you just say thirty-eight?’

He grinned and nodded, ‘Thirty-eight.’

I then did some sort of victory dance/squirm inside my bed, but considering my muscle movement was limited; it wasn’t one of my best victory dances/squirms.

And trust me; I’ve had quite a few.

‘Are you lying? Are you serious? You can’t be serious,’ I muttered, face flushing from excitement.

James giggled a little, ‘I’m not Sirius. I’m James!’

There was a groan from everyone in the room.

‘That joke was old even when your grandparents were alive,’ I commented dryly, turning to Al for some serious feedback.

‘It’s because you used the Ridikulus charm on a creature that was meant to be immune to it. That’s some powerful magic, Halle,’ explained Al, beaming at me in pride.

I blushed, ‘Aw, shucks. Y’all are making me blush.’

James snorted, ‘That accent was horrible. Never do it again.’

Feeling slightly offended, since I’d spent at least THREE FREAKING HOURS perfecting my Southern accent in the holidays, I turned back to Al and grabbed him by the shirt.

‘WHY DID THE RIDIKULUS CHARM WORK FOR ME, M’BOY? TELL ME! TELL ME!’ I screamed, shaking him violently.

What? I was curious. And the best way to deal with curiosity is to scare people.

Yes. That sounds true.

Squeaking slightly and running behind a chair, he answered, ‘I DUNNO, WOMAN! DO I LOOK LIKE THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC?’

I was disappointed by his answer. And we all know what happens to people who disappoint me…


You know, sometimes.

Freddie then pushed James’s bed right next to mine, and we all formed this huge hippie circle in the middle of the Hospital Wing.


I bet.

I turned around to see all my friends, who were sitting on the ground below our beds. How the Gryffindor Gaggle and the ‘Claw Crew had somehow wormed their way into the Hospital Wing at such early an hour, I’ll never know. All patients were meant to be left alone for 24 hours, and yet here they were. Being loveable idiots.

But all other visitors were still denied. I found it hilarious that Connor, who wasn’t a blood relative to either James or I, was allowed inside but Lily, James’s little sister, was not.

The system is whack.

During the course of the day, the rest of the Wotter clan eventually showed up- Lily, Rose, Louis, Hugo, Molly, Lucy and Roxy- all to check up on James.

So while he had practically every Wotter ever to exist fawning over him, I had Elle and Jordin.

I think we know who won the popularity contest here.

(It was me, obviously.)

Distancing myself from the conversation I was previously eavesdropping on between Jordin and Lucy, I fondled the impressive array of Potions which were laid out on my bedside table. It totalled in twenty-four different concoctions. The nurse; Madame Jett, told me to take one per hour and then I was free to go.

But each Potion made me feel so much better; I ended up taking three per hour.

Or four.


No, it was definitely ten.

Well actually, I downed all of them in forty-five minutes.


Suffice to say, I was more than a little bit loopy.


Is that a butterfly?

Nah, it’s just Freddie.

Freddie looks like a butterfly. No shit, he really does. Do you rekcon if I told him that, he’d get offended?

‘Freddie, would you get offended if I said you looked like a butterfly?’

He stroked his imaginary beard. It was a bit of a mind-fuck, when he did that. I wasn’t sure whether he had a beard or not. Sometimes there was a beard and sometimes there wasn’t.


‘I don’t think I’d be offended,’ he replied, after much deliberation, ‘I would take it as a compliment.’

‘What about me, Halle?’ screeched Connor, ‘Am I a butterfly?’

‘Hey, I wanna know too!’ joined in Dom, ‘Am I butterfly?’

Soon everyone in the room was asking me if they were a butterfly.


There was then an appreciative applause at my inspirational words of wisdom.

And then I think I fell asleep; but I can’t remember. Coz you know, I was loopy.

I was having a lovely nap, dreaming about rainbows and sugar, when I was suddenly sucked from the world of dreams and thrust back into reality as a booming thud resonated throughout the Wing.

Walking with a jolt, I turned to see an over-excited Erica slam the door behind her. And to top it all off she was still sporting James’s Quidditch jersey.

Not that I cared.

‘Jamsie!’ she shrilled, before throwing her body on top of his, earning a pained grunt James. And then, with no warning whatsoever, she began eating his face, in front of everyone.


Well, OK, Lily and Hugo were fourteen, but still. CHILDREN!

Everyone watched the progressing porno in front of us with a sort of horrid fascination, bar Molly Weasley, who had subtly pushed her nose back into her book.

She was sneaky, that one.

After a good, solid twenty seconds of strange sucking noises, Erica pulled back a little. Her lips left his with a resounding pop, a sound so gruesome it made me want to burrow my head in my pillow.

Still on top of him, she swooned, ‘Oh, I was so worried! But you looked so hawt fighting those monsters! If you weren’t my boyfriend already, I would have seduced you all over again.’

Turning a bright red, James nervously tugged the collar of the hospital gown, ‘Would you be inclined as to tell me when we started dating?’ he asked in a condescending tone, causing Erica’s face to fall.

She hopped off his bed angrily, her arms crossed tightly around her chest and a scowl on her dainty features.


I coughed, just to contribute to the general awkward atmosphere. Rose looked at me and stifled a giggle when my nonchalant cough turned into a violent coughing fit.

‘You alright, Halle?’ Al asked nervously, his eyes not leaving the overly-dramatic scene which was playing out before us, which looked like it belonged on some sort of Muggle soap opera.

I nodded earnestly towards Al, pitying Erica slightly. She seemed to have been stunned into silence, confounded by James’s general douche-baggery.

Boy. She sure looked angry.

My potion-addled brain somehow cartoonified the girl before me, and I was now staring at a caricature version of Erica.

She looked funny.

Red-faced, with little devil horns and smoke coming out of her ears.

I blinked a couple of times to see if cartoon-Erica would go away, but she was still there. As cartoony as ever.

That settles it.

I’m bonkers.

Let’s just blame it on the potions.


Either one, really. They’re both detrimental to my health.

Then, out of nowhere, Erica’s mouth dropped and formed this comical little ‘o.’


Right then and there.

I started pissing myself in my little hospital cot.

Everyone’s head swivelled towards me, the crazy brunette having a schizophrenic attack in her bed. I spazzed out so much, I knocked a glass of water clean off my bedside table, giggling like a maniac.

Any normal bunch of people would have told me off for spilling water all over the floor.

But the Weasley/Potter/Jordin/Elle clan started laughing with me.

Soon the hospital wing was filled with absolutely hysterical teenagers. Erica and James included.

The tension had simmered down sufficiently, and finding the right moment, I called out, ‘MY BRAIN MADE ERICA LOOK LIKE A CARTOOOON CHARACTER. ‘TWAS FUNNY. THAT’S WHY I LAUGHED,’ I explained, looking straight as Erica as I did so.

She sent me a little smile, and if I didn’t know any better, she seemed really grateful. My laughing fit had shifted the attention away from her public rejection to my obvious insanity.

If I were her, I would’ve been mortified if James Potter had turned me down in front of his entire family.

But Erica is evidently not me, coz you know what she does?

She slaps him right on the face.

On. The. Face.

There was like an unspoken rule that you don’t touch James Potter’s face unless you’re snogging him. I’m not sure who made up that rule. It’s a silly rule. I’m glad Erica broke it.

The resounding crack echoed around the Hospital Wing, and James instantly rubbed a soothing hand up and down his cheek, where a red mark was already appearing.

‘How could you not know we were dating?!’ she demanded, tapping her foot impatiently, ‘I would think our suggestive rendezvous in certain broom cupboards would say otherwise.’


His expression faltered slightly, ‘I’m sorry, Erica. I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. But I’m a free agent. One girl can’t tie down all of this,’ he said, gesturing to his body.

I face-palmed. It was literally impossible for him to say a less douchey thing.

Grunting in obvious frustration, she grabbed a silver cup from nearby, which was clearly marked with the words ‘Do not drink.’ In one swift movement, she had dumped it on his head.


It was settled. Erica had gained my newfound respect.


‘Douche,’ she muttered, before flouncing away. Her hips swinging with extra oomph and hair flying every which-way.

You’ve got to admit. That girl’s got style.
James sputtered, ‘What the hell was that?’ he asked, sniffing himself as the yellow-ey liquid seeped through his clothes, ‘I smell like piss.’

I shrugged, turning to Al, who was grinning ecstatically. ‘You know how human urine can be used in certain Potions to make an instant relief for certain burns?’ he said, eyes glinting excitedly.

James groaned, ‘You can’t be serious.’

Al smirked mischievously, ‘Adriane over there has some pretty serious burns,’ he said, pointing his finger to the Beauxbaton-filled corner of the Hospital Wing.

I laughed like a mad-woman, before yelling out at the top of my lungs, ‘JAMES IS COVERED WITH PISS!’

And thus began the second Weasley/Potter/Jordin/Elle/Halle maniacal laughing fit for the day.

I don’t think my stomach will ever recover.


After Erica had barged into the room without Madame Jett’s permission, she had ordered all visitors to leave. James, being the smooth talker he is, managed to convince to let the Gryffindor Gaggle + the Claw Crew + Al and Lily to stay.

Everyone else was banished.

As they all headed grudgingly towards the door, I yelled, ‘YOU ARE ALL BANISHED FROM THE REALMS OF MY KINGDOM. TO RETURN IS ON THE PENALTY TO DEATH!’

James rolled his eyes, ‘Does she ever stop yelling?’

Madame Jett narrowed her eyes at me, before noticing the empty bottles of Potion which littered by general area. ‘Did you drink all the Potions in one go?’

I blushed a little bit, squirming under her gaze, ‘Maybe?’

She sighed, rubbing her temples in exasperation, ‘You’ll be out cold for at least forty-eight hours after that much medication. Afterwards you’ll rest for another day, and then you can go.’

I groaned, ‘So I’ll have to stay an extra day?’

She shrugged in a what-do-you-want-me-to-do-about-it way. ‘It’s your fault for drinking all the Potions. And you lot,’ she said, gesturing to our remaining friends, ‘As soon as Halle gets knocked out, don’t wake her up. Is everyone clear on that?’

There was a simultaneous chorus of, ‘YES!’

Shaking her head and muttering something like, ‘All the potions at once. Crazy children,’ Madame Jett escaped to the confines of her office, drawing the curtains and shutting the door.

A couple of hours later, it struck me that I still didn’t know what James’ task was. I had always been too distracted or sleepy to listen to any of our conversations properly. I just commented about how everyone looked like various insects.

It was fun.

‘So James,’ I said, turning to face him, ‘What exactly was your first task?’

He scoffed in disbelief, ‘We’ve only discussed it like forty times. How can you not know?’

‘Connor, your nose reminds me of an ant,’ I said, in my serious voice.

James chuckled slightly, ‘That’s how you don’t know.’

I turned back to James, ‘I’m sorry, did you say something?’

Before I managed to get distracted again, Connor burst out, ‘James’s task was so cool! It was like an assortment of different monsters. Every time he killed one, a different one would appear. He had to fight ten different creatures. Fucking legendary,’ he explained, clapping James on the back in a my-best-friend-is-a-boss way.

It was sweet. Those two had a very successful bromance.

Just as I was about to congratulate James, Minister Kingsley walked into the Hospital Wing, closely followed by McGonagall.

Standing at the foot of our connected beds, Kingsley and McGonagall beamed at us.

‘I would just like to congratulate you both for an interesting, entertaining and highly successful task! I just wanted to let you know that since you both needed instant hospital treatment, your boxes from the task were taken to your dorm rooms. Fear not, they are charmed with complex magic to stop anyone from even touching them. Please, take your time, relax and have fun, the Second Task won’t occur until after the Yule Ball. Hope you get better soon!’ he said, before moving onto the other Champions, who were sleeping in one of the many beds inside the Hospital Wing.

‘Wait!’ I called out, while he was still within hearing distance, ‘Minister, I need to ask you something!’

Turning around impatiently, he asked, ‘What?’

‘Why did the Ridikulus charm work for me in the end? I thought those Boggarts were supposed to have immunity,’ I queried, genuinely curious.

Posture relaxing slightly, he replied hurriedly, ‘Oh. That. Well, those down at the Department of Magical Equipment Control said that it was disorientation. From the crowd’s noise, the confusion it was experiencing. Just came down to minor defaults and powerful magic on your part. That is all.’

Hmm. Well I guess that makes sense. I’m kind of disappointed though. I was secretly hoping I was the Princess of Wizardkind and had special powers which could turn everything in the world into chocolate.

Hey, a girl can dream.

As Kingsley made his brusque departure, Al cleared his throat disbelievingly. ‘Minor defaults? That’s total bullshit. Something weird happened, and it had nothing to do with minor defaults.’

I very highly doubt that, but since Al looked so excited at discovering something slightly out of the ordinary, I let him have his fun.

Yes. I know. I’ll be expecting my Nobel Peace Prize in the mail by Tuesday.

Seeming to remember the original purpose for her visit, McGonagall beamed in pride, ‘That was an excellent display of Hogwarts skill, you two!’ she exclaimed, her eyes twinkling slightly.

That settles it; someone definitely put something in the pumpkin juice. This is the second time I’ve seen McGonagall’s eyes twinkle, and it’s psychologically scarring.

‘The whole school is proud of your valiant display of courage and skill. Now, I have allowed enough time for you two to get caught up with your friends. Everyone, back to class!’ she said, before shooing our remaining friends away.

‘But Professor!’ Al shrilled, ‘We don’t even like class!’

‘That is no excuse, Mr Potter,’ she replied, curtly. ‘But you two,’ she said, turning to me and James, ‘Take all the time you need.’

We grinned at each other as Al stormed out the door, looking very affronted. Jordin and Elle kissed me on the cheek before promising to be back soon. Soon the Hospital Wing was left in its eerie silence, and I started counting the number of tiles which were on the ceiling.

It was actually very exciting.

‘Halle,’ James said, snapping his fingers to get my attention. Now that everyone had gone, it seemed kind of weird that our beds were so close together. It was a very couple-y thing to do, and we were most certainly not a couple.

I turned to face him, and he was positively beaming. ‘I’m proud of you, Halle. You really were amazing,’ he complimented, giving me a little smile.


And I mean that in a non-hormonal way. Like a puppy! Yes. James, at that moment, was like a tiny little puppy.

A very masculine puppy. With hazel eyes.

Ahem. Settle, settle hormones.

I smiled in return, ‘Thank you. But just letting you know, I did nothing. It was all Super-Halle.’

He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Who’s Super-Halle?’

‘She’s a fearless bitch. Don’t want to get in a fight with her.’

He laughed, ‘Well you better be nice to her, because she might win you the Tournament.’

I scoffed, ‘Puh-lease. There’s no chance in hell I’ll win this Tournament.’

He furrowed his eyebrows, creating a crease at the top of his nose. ‘What are you talking about? You’ve got more of a chance than any of us right now, you are in the lead,’ he pointed out.

I rolled my eyes. I’ve had a couple of daydreams about actually winning that infamous Triwizard Cup. But, it was impossible. I mean, look who I was up against. There was the mysterious, strong hero from Durmstrang. Then the beautiful, strong-yet-delicate Veela from Beauxbatons. And not to mention the Son of the Freaking Saviour of the Wizarding World. Need I say more?

Articles world-wide had already compared the four of us to each other countless amounts of time, and I had always been labelled as the boring one. The mistake. That’s exactly what I was, and unless I did something to create a stir in the Wizarding Media, I doubt I’d have very much support from the Wizarding Population.

But it’s not like I care, or anything. Not even in the slightest. To survive the Tournament will be accomplishment enough; I didn’t need eternal glory and a glow-in-the-dark trophy to prove it.

‘Compared to my opponents, I don’t think I stand a chance,’ I muttered, my words muffled as I buried my head into my pillow.

‘What?’ James asked, ‘Didn’t catch that.’

Hastily, I back-pedalled the conversation, not wanting to get into a lengthy debate about how I had a chance at winning this Tournament. No need to get my hopes up for no reason.

‘So, fighting ten different monsters? That’s pretty exciting, James,’ I tried, hoping that inflating his ego would be enough to distract him.

He smiled. He was successfully distracted! ‘True, true. My task wasn’t as exciting as yours, though. I mean, what was your fear?’ he asked, his voice dropping slightly.

I still wasn’t sure about that. Back in third year, when we first encountered Boggarts in class, I was still scared shitless of werewolves.

I mean, they were huge wolves. With paws! And claws attached to those paws!

But I got over that fear when I met Teddy Lupin at the Weasley’s house over the summer, and he told me all about his epic werewolf father.

So, when I walked into that arena, I honestly had no idea what I was going to face.

‘I think,’ I replied. ‘My biggest fear is betrayal.’

‘Think?’ he prompted, obviously irritated by my vague answer.

I nodded, ‘I’m still not really sure. I doubt I’m scared of my best friends and family. So, yeah, I’m going to go with betrayal.’

He shrugged his shoulders, ‘Fair enough.’

I decided to ask him a question which had been at the back of my mind all day, ‘How long was I hit with the Cruciatus Curse?’

‘I think it was a total of eight seconds.’

My mouth dropped, ‘Sure as hell didn’t seemlike eight seconds. Eight hours on the other hand…’

He chuckled, ‘I can only imagine, O’ great and powerful one.’

I AM A GREAT AND POWERFUL ONE. I’m glad everyone else can see it too.

Finally, I felt the intense desire to sleep wash over my body. Just as I was about to close my eyes and pass into the realms of sunshine, lollipops and unicorns, I muttered, ‘James?’


‘I’m going to sleep now.’

‘OK Halle. Goodnight.’

‘I just wanted to say thank you.’

‘For what?’

‘You know, training me and stuff. I probably would’ve died without you’re help.’

I felt him reach over and pat my head. It was a great pat. The boy knows how to pat a head. I mentioned this to him, and he laughed.

‘You’re cute when you’re sleepy,’ was the last thing I heard him say before my eyelids succumbed to the pressure of sleep, and soon I was in the Land of the Unicorns.

A/N: I AM SO SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG. i wasnt too happy with this chapter, but i put it up anyway. COZ I LOVE YOU. YES YOU. INNOCENT READER. EMBRACE THE LOVE. DO YOU FEEL HONOURED? coz you should.

ahem. i'll shut up now.

thankyou for all the lovely reviews on my last chapter, they really meant alot. HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS CHAPPIE, AND DROP A REVIEW.

coz if you do, i'll give you a penguin! <(") <-- right here, your penguin is here. collect once review is left. thankyou for your penguin purchase.

ahem. i should really shut up now. REVIEW PLEASE :D

Chapter 13: Of Nutters and Unexpected Kisses
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Chapter 13: Of Nutters and Unexpected Kisses

Someone’s poking me.

And it is monumentally irritating.

‘Stop!’ I complained, blankets still over my head, muffling my command. I was asleep but two minutes ago and I’m fairly sure I’m still in the hospital wing, so why is someone poking me?

‘Halle, wake up!’ whispered a voice.

I groaned. It was a great groan. All load and irritated and drawn-out. I should become a groaning expert.

Nervously removing the covers from over my head, I searched for the perpetrator behind the poking. Lo and behold, Elle and Jordin were standing by my bed, Jordin being the mastermind behind the poking scheme.

‘Stop fucking poking me!’ I ordered, and he obeyed. Ten pokes later.

That boy has severe trouble following orders.

‘What time is it?’ I asked, groggily, rubbing my eyes.

‘About five in the afternoon. We thought we’d come and get you, since your victory party is tonight!’ squealed Elle, excitedly clapping her hands.

‘Victory party?’ I questioned, glancing at the bed next to mine. ‘Twas empty. James must have left.

‘Of course. Hogwarts students take any chance to party, and this is a huge deal. We’ve managed to postpone the party until you were out of the Hospital Wing, but the date is fixed. It’s tonight, and you’re coming.’

‘A victory party, eh? Sounds good to me,’ I said, pushing myself up a little bit, still a bit annoyed when pain sored my joints and ached my muscles.

Does that make sense?

Whatever. Main message was; I STILL HURT. EVERYWHERE.

Jordin looked concerned, ‘Are you sure you can make it? You’ve been out cold for about three days. You’re free to leave, Madame Jett said. You just have to take this last Potion,’ he said, handing me a purple vial.

Excited, I perked up. I had grown to love Potions (not the subject; the thing), ‘GIMME! GIMME! GIMME!’ I ordered.

Quickly downing it in one go, I made a face as the hot liquid burned down my throat, ‘Bleh,’ I said, ‘Tastes like fish.’

But, amazingly, the fishy-tasting liquid sent a warm surge pulsating through my body, easing the itches and burns of all of my injuries. Amazed, I opened my eyes wide and swivelled my shoulders. No pain. I bent my knees a couple of times. Still no pain. I squealed, ‘WHAT WAS THAT HOLY LIQUID?’

Jordin smiled, ‘Feeling better?’

I jumped out of my cot, feeling like I could tackle the world, ‘I feel like I could take on the Giant Squid with my bare hands.’

Elle laughed, ‘Steady on there. Party first?’

I grinned, rubbing my hands together like a cool cartoon character, ‘Let’s party.’


After napping a little more in the Hospital Wing by myself (there’s nothing like a Hospital Wing nap. It’ll make every other nap you’ve had feel like sleeping on a bed of nails. NAILS I TELL YOU!), I decided to make my dramatic departure from the Hospital Wing at around five-ish. After all classes had ended.

Coz I’m sneaky like that.

After hugging Madame Jett, (‘OH THANKYOU, FOR YOUR MAGICAL HEALING SKILLS MY DEAR NURSE!’), I began my happy return to the Ravenclaw Common Room, feeling as good as new.

‘Great job in the first task, Halle,’ squeaked a little firstie, as soon as I entered the Common Room.

I beamed, ‘Why thank you, firstie. I appreciate it muchly.’

Muchly is a cool word. In fact I’m pretty sure I just made it up.


Or, you know, being a Triwizard Champion. But personally I reckon coming up with the world muchly is a bigger achievement.

Heaving myself up the stairs, (whilst being congratulated by every freaking member of the Ravenclaw House) I threw open the door to my dormitory, anxious to find my bed and, you know, sleep some more.

‘Halle!’ squealed Elle as I came inside. She was lying on my bed, painting her toe nails, and I suspected she was guarding the wooden box which lay ominously atop my mattress.

My eyes grew wide as I saw it, ‘It’s the box.’

She nodded gravely, ‘Well, aren’t you going to open it?’

I practically pounced on her and grabbed the box like a wild animal, my eyes growing wide in anticipation. I had nearly died for this box. And it wasn’t even a nice box! Just a plain, wooden chest. After a quick inspection I had noticed there was absolutely no form of patterning on it, however in the bottom, left hand corner there had been one small engraving. 32, 141. Two numbers, so small I could barely see them. But there they were, etched into the surface.

I looked at Elle, ‘What could that possibly mean?’

She shrugged her shoulders, ‘Maybe you’ll have a better idea once you see what’s inside?’ she suggested, eyeing the box wearily.

It was sitting right in front of me, just waiting for me to unveil its secrets.

Elle made an impatient groan, ‘What are you waiting for?’

I gazed unsurely at the wooden contraption, afraid it was going to bite me. I took a deep breath, ‘Here it goes,’ I muttered unconfidently, unclasping the golden hook which was engraved on the front.

What lay inside was a major letdown.

‘It’s just a ball!’ I claimed, grasping the small, grey sphere in my hand.

It really was just a ball. A sphere, I suppose, made of a dull, grey metal. The colour lacked lustre, but the surface was smooth. It wasn’t very big; it fit nicely into my hands, about the size of a tennis ball, maybe a little bigger. I ran my finger over it, completely mystified at its purpose.

Elle narrowed her eyes, ‘That is so strange,’ was all she said.

I groaned, ‘How am I meant to figure out this thing? Do I open it? Talk to it? What do I do?’ I yelled, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her.

‘I don’t know! You want to start deciphering it now?’

I shook my head, before stuffing the sphere back into the box, ‘Later. I have a ton of homework to catch up on,’ I lied, wearily.

Elle gave me the look. You know; the judgemental one.

I tried a different approach, ‘And we have to get ready for that party of yours!’

Her features lit up excitedly as the memory of the party dawned on her. Mission: Success.

‘Dom should be here soon with our dresses,’ she squealed excitedly, returning to her previous duty of painting her toe nails.


Happy, excitable, hormonal Dom?




‘No, Dom, that dress is not too short,’ I reassured, for about the fiftieth time.

But I lie, the dress is totally too short. But hey, she looks good. Sometimes a girl’s gotta look like a slut.

She self-consciously tugged down on the glittery skirt, while she stood in front of the mirror in me and Elle’s dorm, ‘You‘re sure?’

‘Positive,’ replied Elle.

‘Alright!’ she yelled, somewhat crazily, ‘Now it’s your turn Triwizard champion,’ she stated, whirling around to face me.

‘Why is everyone making such a big deal about this party? I mean Dom came all the way from her dorm room just to help me get ready, and I don’t even want to go. Can’t we just sneak down to the kitchens and have a pie?’ I asked desperately. A party which would mainly be centred on me and James did not seem like an exciting prospect.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of what I did. But I’m not good with attention. It’s why I prefer Jordin and Elle’s company over that of the Wotter’s.

‘Halle, you seriously need to get over pie,’ said Dom, shaking her head.

Elle and I gasped in unison, and looked at her with horror. Elle seemed too shocked to speak and I managed a threatening, ‘Never say that again.’

Elle nodded in agreement. And that is why I love her.

‘OK, OK, calm down, Halle. Just teasing,’ Dom replied, holding her hands up in compliance.

Damn straight bitch, comply with my pie-loving ways.

‘Anyway Halle, you need to go. You just do. Don’t worry, it’s not like you don’t have any friends. In fact, everyone will want to be your friend after this. Oh god. You’re going to be swept up in all the attention and I’ll be left to rot in the shadows and eventually turn to drugs, drop out of Hogwarts, become a hobo who possibly finds love with a homeless dog, and then becomes the star of her own reality TV show called Puppy Love,’ said Elle, whose head was currently in my lap.

I scoffed, laughing since she’d probably been thinking about this for a while. ‘Ditch you? But then I’ll have no friends. I’ll have to spend my days in the library! Oh the horror! The shame!’ I shouted, putting a head to my forehead and pretending to faint.

Elle chuckled. ‘We already spend all our time in the library, we’re Ravenclaws remember?’ she joked, laughing along with me.

Dom just scoffed, ‘You guys are such nerds. Now come on! Serious business time. Here Elle take this, you’ll look gorgeous. Fred won’t know what to do with himself,’ she ordered, throwing a beautiful orange number her way. Elle stuttered while taking in the dress’s long sleeves, and short length, which stopped mid-thigh. ‘You think?’ she asked.

I nodded, ‘You’ll look kick-ass.’

She smiled, ‘Kick ass is good.’

‘Now for the Champion,’ Dom pondered, flicking through my closet.

‘Aha!’ she proclaimed victoriously, pulling out a dress from my closet which I have never seen before. And it looked suspiciously like it belonged to Dom. ‘This is perfect!’

I rolled my eyes, ‘Dom, did you smuggle your own clothes down here?’ I asked, wishing I could raise my eyebrow for this suspicious moment.

She turned red, ‘What? Me? Never. OK, yes fine! Stop looking at me like that! I mean, you know I love your taste, the whole cool-nerd-thing works for you. But you need to look like a slut for this party. It’s the only way!’ she argued, her eyes reaching alarming records of wideness.

‘Why must I slut-up for this party?’ I asked, shaking my head disapprovingly.

‘So we can show James just how hot you are,’ she replied, winking.

I nearly shrieked in horror, ‘Why would we want to such a thing? I don’t like him like that!’ I protested.

A knowing smile spread to her face, ‘Sure you don’t. Fine then, I’m putting the dress back. You can wear,’ she cringed, ‘jeans or something.’

Because heaven forbid I wear jeans.

I eyed the dress wearily, it was extremely pretty. It was cream coloured, the top half made a tightly-knitted lace, with a shallow drop in the back. The skirt was a darker beige colour and fell about high-thigh: borderline prostitute. I could already tell it would accentuate my pitiful cleavage nicely, and yet it still had a very classy feel about it. Definitely not slutty, but not modest either.

‘Alright, toss it here,’ I said, reaching out for the fabric, which was soft to the touch. ‘But I’m not wearing it to impress James,’ I confirmed.

Dom laughed slightly, but nodded, ‘Alright, whatever you say. But you’re going to look absolutely model-perfect in that thing,’ she said, pointing to the dress.

I smiled a little; because I hoped she was right.


‘Wow,’ breathed Elle, as she took in my reflection in the mirror.

I don’t usually dress up, I suppose. Not like this anyway. Dom had paired my dress with a pair of nude heels, a long, draping pearl necklace, and an army of black bracelets up my right arm.

I don’t wear makeup usually (sometimes when I look dead I put a little eyeliner on, but I just end up poking my eye), but Dom full on did the whole shebang. Mascara, eyeliner, lip gloss, it was all on my face.
And it made my face look good.

‘Absolutely stunning,’ Dom complimented, ‘I am a superstar.’

I laughed slightly, ‘Thanks, Dom. I really like it. You sure it’s not too-’ I stopped to think of the appropriate word, ‘Revealing?’

Dom grinned mischievously, ‘Absolutely not. Now come on, we’re already fashionably late, the party started fifteen minutes ago.’

This, er, shindig was to be held in the Room of Requirement, since it was a whole school celebration. I hesitated as we reached the seventh floor corridor, and Dom made the door appear. She smiled widely at me, ‘Champion first,’ she ordered.

Baha! I am so awesome I have my own party. True, I have to share it with James, but still, this is exciting. Even if I am socially awkward.

When Dom opened the door and we walked in, the crowd erupted in applause, and my face split into a grin. Upon entry, I was promptly hoisted onto Jordin and Freddie’s shoulders, and the entire crowd cheered, ‘Halle! Halle! Halle!’

I laughed nervously, despite the fact I was enjoying myself immensely. I’ve had dreams about being hoisted onto someone’s shoulders while everyone chants my name. And now it’s happened twice.

It’s obviously the universe’s way of telling me I’m awesome.

Or it’s the universe’s way to help me remember my name. Sometimes I forget it when I’m nervous.

I jumped off the boy’s shoulders, landing somewhat lightly on my heeled feet, and pumped my fist into the air. Everyone crowded around me and looked at me with expectant expressions, and I gave them a nervous smile. ‘What are you waiting for?’ I asked, delivering the line which I had been practising the whole way here, ‘Let’s get the drinking started!’

Yes, the line was cliché. But the crowd loved it. And so did I.


James arrived a little after me, and I must grudgingly admit that he handled the situation slightly better than I. The crowd just loves people like him, and I suppose he did deserve a bigger applause for his little speech.

I bet you want to hear his little speech.

Well you shan’t! For it was better than my one alcohol-inspired line.

And I am a sore loser, especially to James Potter.

The music was monumentally loud; and it threatened to burst my eardrums more than once. So I decided to have a mental conversation with the music.

It went like this.

Me: Music, will you be softer.

Music: NO, shan’t.

Me: But please, music! My eardrums are about to burst.

Music: Like hell if I care.

I then proceed to punch the music in the face, and the music bows down in awe of my glory.

I really shouldn’t have had those five shots of fire whisky.

I was currently sitting at the bar, Al next to me, as we played our convoluted drinking game, called True English. Don’t laugh; we came up with the name when we were drunk, alright?

Don’t judge me.

Said game involves a game of scissors, paper, rock and various dares. We’ve come up with exactly one hundred different dares, especially thought up of for this game. And we’ve memorized each and every one. But we’ve only ever gotten up to Round Seventeen. Because our alcohol tolerance rates are pathetic.

Alright, you can judge me.

But judge Albus too! We were both co-founders of True English.

Did I mention we charmed real scissors, paper and rocks to play for us? Probably shouldn’t be using magic when we’re both piss-drunk, but hey, don’t blame us. We’re drunk.

Elle was off dancing with Freddie, which made my already excited head even more excited. Dom was snogging some random bloke in the corner, Connor and Jessie Kurt were grinding on the dance floor and Jordin was currently seducing a very pretty Hufflepuff.

And she was being seduced, all right.

A small crowd had gathered around me and Al’s intense drinking game, and I stared my big brother square in the eyes as we entered Round Seventeen.

This is a big one.

He narrowed his eyes at me, ‘Scissors, paper, rock!’ we shouted in unison.

There was a collective ‘ooh’ around the crowd as his scissors cut through my paper.

‘Screw you, Albussss,’ I cursed, slurring my words slightly. He just grinned triumphantly, and pushed another fire whisky into my hands, which I downed in one go. The crowd went ecstatic, and I wiped the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand.

‘Bring it on.’

A girl from the crowd piped up, I think she was in fifth year or something. ‘What exactly is the dare for Round Seventeen?’ she asked, everyone leaning in with genuine curiosity.

Al looked very pleased with himself, ‘I came up with it! Usually this is our last round (there was a disappointed aww from the audience) because it’s about as drunk as either one of us wants to get. We have to kiss someone in the room who we really want to. And we’re too drunk to lie,’ explained Al. I think he did an astoundingly good job, considering we’re drunk.

His eyebrows shot high into his fringe as a new thought occurred to him, ‘This will be the first time it won’t be Scorpius!’ he realised.

Oh my god. It was always Scorpius. Shit, we haven’t played a game of True English since we broke up. There is no way in hell I want to kiss him anymore. Al looked at me with renewed interest.

His lips turned into a smirk, ‘Go on, Halle. Go and kiss the boy you want to the most!’ he ordered, pushing me off the stool, ‘Or a girl. You could kiss a girl,’ he added hopefully.

I poked my tongue at him, ‘Nice try, Albus.’

He shrugged his shoulders, ‘Worth a shot.’

Our little crowd seemed to buzzing with excitement as I began walking out onto the dance floor. I’m pretty drunk right now, so I’ve given complete control to my legs. They seem to know exactly where they’re going.

Hang on, they’re heading towards James.


They’re not stopping. Why aren’t they stopping? Shit, what’s happening?

There was a huge gasp from the bar as everyone realised where I was off to, and Albus looked like someone had thrown a pitcher of ice down his back.

‘LEGS, STOP!’ I yelled to my mechanical limbs, but they seemed set on getting to James, who was now looking at me curiously.

But then he smiled at me. And it made my heart stop. I don’t know why, but it did. And I grinned straight back at him.

Waving goodbye to the bunch of ‘Puffers he had been talking to, he began approaching me, still smiling. It was like in a movie, everything was in slow motion, and my vision seemed to zoom in on James.

He was looking great. Well he always looked great, but tonight he looked like he had walked straight off an Abercrombie and Fitch magazine. He was sporting tight black pants and a slightly translucent white tee, which gave me a lovely view of his rock-hard abs. This seemed to spur my legs on even faster. The sixth shot was flooding to my head; the music was pounding through my body. I completely forgot about the audience watching my every move and walked straight up to him.

‘How’s your night going, Halle?’ he asked, looking down at me.

I hiccupped in response, ‘I apologize for what I’m about to do. You’d better not hate me,’ I explained, letting the alcohol completely take over.

The edges of his lips quirked upwards, ‘I could never hate you,’ he said, reaching out to brush a stray piece of hair from my face. The touch sent electric shocks through my body. The alcohol seemed to be magnifying every single emotion running through my mind, making me one horny teenager.

I took a step closer as he spoke, his breath smelling strongly of fire-whisky. He was drunk too. Maybe he wouldn’t remember. That would be nice.

I took another step forward. And he didn’t step back.

He looked at me a little strangely, before putting a hand around my waist and drawing me closer. His eyes had something new in them, not the hazy drunkenness which was there before. They were soft and a little anxious.

‘Are you feeling alright? You’re not talking. And you always talk,’ he said, bringing his lips to my ear so I could hear him over the new, even louder song which began playing.

His movement sent a shiver down my body, and I just couldn’t take it anymore. The lights from the disco ball highlighted his irises, illuminating those tiny gold flecks which I love so much.

‘Just remember, this was a dare, sort of,’ I said, before closing the distance between us and pressing my lips to his.


*sounds of hypothetical fireworks which existed only in my alcohol-addled brain*

Wow. Just wow. If you couldn’t tell from my cliché imaginary fireworks, kissing James was…amazing.

He seemed a little surprised at first, but then he kissed me back with a strange ferocity which made me even hungrier for him. He brought his other arm around my waist and I twisted mine around his neck, pulling him closer. His hair was soft. Like really soft, especially when I knotted my hands in it, running my fingers across his scalp.

Merlin, what shampoo does this boy use?

My ears were booming. My head was spinning. All I wanted was James, and I wanted this moment to last forever.

But it didn’t. Because only seconds of this hectic bliss, James was yanked roughly from my grip, by someone who looked very much like him.

Being slightly too drunk to comprehend what was happening, I stammered back, quickly catching myself from falling on my arse.

My eyes widened as I looked at our attacker, and he glared at me with such ferocity I didn’t have the balls to open my mouth. Before I knew what was happening, Al curled his fist and punched James squarely in the jaw, before looking at the pair of us, absolutely livid.

Oh. My. Pie.

What have I done?


is it in the mail? excellent.

hope you enjoy this chapter, twas a present for my shitto last chappie. soo, waddufink? the dress? the kiss? THE KISS?

please review :) penguin offer still stands. all reviewers recieve penguins. CHECK OUT THIS SEXY BEAST; <(")


disclaimer: HARRY POTTER IS NOT MINE *SNIFFLES*. The drinking game True English was a take off True American from New Girl, created by Elizabeth Meriwether. Abecrombie and Finch isn't mine either, (tried to find the owners, but its like a public company, so there's loads of shareholders.)


Chapter 14: Of Nutters and a Last-Name basis
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Of Nutters and a Last-Name Basis


‘Ow!’ James exclaimed, clutching his jaw, which was now sporting a growing purple bruise, ‘Little bro, what was that for?’

Albus looked at the pair of us, shooting daggers with his eyes. If looks could kill, I would be dead. In fact, I probably am already dead. I’ll probably get to meet Merlin.

Al pointed a finger to me, ‘I’ll deal with you later,’ he said, his voice laced with danger.

I squeaked and melted into the background, grateful to find both Freddie and Elle now behind me. Elle grabbed my elbow and began hauling me away, but I stood firm. I wanted to stay.

‘What the fuck, James?’ Al shouted at his brother, actually beating the music in volume. The crowd began parting around this little drama/violence unravelling in front of them, and everyone was watching with pure curiosity.

I didn’t exactly blame them; this scene was dramatic enough to be on a reality TV show.

Since they were both piss-drunk, I knew this wasn’t going to end well. ‘I’m the one who’s allowed to say what the fuck. You punched me!’ argued James, regaining his posture and towering over his little brother.

Woah; Al’s grown. They’re practically the same height. Is it weird that the only thing I could think about was that James looks good when he’s about to get in a fight with his brother? But then again, he always looks good.


‘You can’t just ignore my best friend for five years and then make out with her! She’s like my sister! You’re not allowed to just shag her and move on. She’s not like that!’ Al yelled, obviously the fire-whisky was getting to him, too.

My drunken heart melted a little bit then, I don’t realise it often, but Al really does care for me. And I love him for that, but seriously, I can take care of myself.

‘She was the one who kissed me, genius. Besides, the only reason you’re so angry is that you fucking fancy her!’

Al turned a weird shade of red, which did not look good against his black hair. I kind of wanted to laugh at that moment, because the thought of Al liking me was actually hilarious.

‘She’s like my sister! I would never want to tap that!’

At this I made a slightly offended noise, because that hurt. Hey, I’m sexy!


Ah, screw you.

He turned around to face me, ‘I didn’t mean it like that! Argh, you get it. You’re still kind of hot!’ then he laughed for a bit, before continuing, ‘But that would be fucking disgusting.’

‘Damn straight,’ I replied, fist bumping him.

Hey! We cool. Sorta. Kinda.

Shut up.

‘So if you’re not tapping that,’ James said, putting air-quotations around the word tapping, ‘Why can’t I?’

Al seemed to growl under his breath. He really needs to drop the whole over-protective big brother thing; I can take care of myself, thank you very much.

So why don’t you tell him that yourself?

Screw you brain, screw you.

Oh yeah, that’s so creative of you Halle.

You know what, Brain? I don’t remember asking you. So just get out of my head, alright?

How am I gonna do that, genius? And if I were you, I’d step in sometime soon. Those two look like they’re going to bash each other up.

Until next time, Brain. Until next time.

Did I just have a mental conversation with my brain?


But my brain was right; the two brothers were now standing right in front of each other, having a competition on whose growl was more threatening.

James’s was for sure, it was slightly deeper. And rougher. Mmmm.

Alright, time to take action.

‘Woah, woah, woah, woah,’ I cried, pushing myself in between them. My training sessions with James are really beginning to pay off, because I sandwiched myself between them easily, and held them apart at arms distance. ‘What is happening here?’ I wondered aloud.

Al turned his furious glare away from James and onto me, ‘Why the fuck did you just kiss my brother?’

Oh shit. My head’s starting to hurt. I don’t usually drink this much, my normal tolerance is usually about three fire whiskies. Plus I had all those vodka and cokes earlier, before me and Al had started playing True English. I shouldn’t have drunk so much.

I looked at him, thoroughly confused, ‘I thought you wanted me to!’

‘What?’ he exclaimed, ‘You were dared to kiss the person you wanted to the most!’

What was wrong with this boy? I did exactly what he asked! ‘Yes, I know. So I completed the dare! What’s the problem?’

Everyone’s eyes went wide, and Al lunged for James again. So, I’m not as strong as I thought; these boys could trample me easily.

Freddie and Jordin soon jumped in, hauling the two brothers apart. ‘Cut it out, family shouldn’t fight,’ chastised Freddie, grabbing the back of James’ shirt, making it ride up slightly.

Pure, unadulterated, uncovered James abs. Yup, that was definitely too much.

The heat of the moment totally flew past my head, and in a moment too similar to the Tournament, I felt my knees weaken and my body collapse.

But this time there was a difference. This time I was caught by someone, someone who smelled exactly like peppermint and Quidditch.

And I knew who it was in an instant.


Someone is singing.


I have absolutely no idea where I am or what I am doing here, but I can hear someone having a shower while singing. And they’re doing a horrible job.

‘I’VE GOT A POCKETFUL A POCKETFUL OF SUNSHINE; I’VE GOT A LOVE AND I KNOW THAT IT’S ALL MINE. OH. OH WOAH OH,’ shrieked the singer, oblivious to the fact that I had a killer hangover.

I forced my eyes open and took in the scene around me. The room I was currently in was dangerously untidy with a strict colour scheme of red and gold. Gryffindor. I wasn’t in my Ravenclaw dorm room, but I was definitely in a bed. But the bed wasn’t mine. But if it wasn’t my bed, then whose was it?

It was at this moment I was acutely aware of an arm draped around my waist, pulling me tight to a chest. Alright, this wasn’t too strange; just need to see who this person was. Hopefully it was Al; I usually crashed with him whenever I was too drunk to make it back to Ravenclaw Tower.

But this person was not Al. Not it was not.

‘TEN THOUSAND BLUNDERING TYPHOONS!’ I yelled, taking in my captor’s face.

It was James Potter. James fucking Potter. And I was sleeping with him, on his bed.

‘WHAT THE FUCK!?’ he yelled in response, his eyes flying open at my sudden outburst.

‘WHAT THE FUCK, INDEED!’ I yelled back.

I then commando rolled (or fell, but commando rolled sounds cooler) off his bed, and found myself lying on another person.

‘TEN BILLION BLUNDERING TYPHOONS!’ I yelled again, rolling off this other person, who was Al.

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose, in an attempt to sort out this situation, and the singing was still going on in the background. Why is the singing still going on in the background?

‘Halle?’ came Al’s gentle voice, gently poking me in the shoulder.

I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hands, ‘Who is singing? Why are they singing?’

James chuckled and pushed himself off the bed, ‘Yo, Freddie. Shut up!’ he yelled through the bathroom door, before pulling out three pink-ish potions from his closet.

He tossed the bottles to us and commanded, ‘Drink. Hangover Potion.’

I gulped its contents gratefully, feeling the throbbing sensation in my head leave, and my thoughts became clearer.

‘What the hell am I doing here?’ I wondered aloud, looking between the two Potter brothers.

James shrugged, ‘Remember anything from last night?’

I thought about that, and I thought back, hard. But the memories escaped my mind like smoke in the air, becoming hazier and hazier the more I thought about it.

‘I remember something…’ I began, and the two brothers leaned forward in interest, ‘We were all at a party!’ I finished, proudly.

Sadly, that was about where my memories ended.

Al groaned and James just smiled. ‘You passed out,’ James explained, ‘So I brought you up to my dorm, since I could not solve one of those Ravenclaw riddles at two in the morning.’

I nodded, that seemed plausible. But I’m not sure if it’s acceptable to sleep with your friend when you’re in the early stages of a bromance. Even if nothing happened.

Panic soon flooded through my body, and I shot my head up to look at him, ‘Nothing happened, right? Oh god, tell me nothing happened!’

‘That’s why I came with you guys, to make sure nothing happened,’ Al explained, looking at the pair of us like we were suspicious drug-dealers.

I shrugged my shoulders, made sense. I laughed a little, ‘Like something would ever happen between me and James,’ I said, although there was a little flutter in my stomach at the thought of it.

Al groaned again, and James just looked amused. ‘So you seriously don’t remember anything?’ he asked again.

I concentrated, and I remembered something else. I looked triumphantly at Al, ‘We were playing True English! What round did we get up to?’

Al looked like he wanted to die. ‘Round Seventeen.’

My eyes opened in interest, ‘Who did you kiss that made you so grumpy this morning?’ I asked.

He groaned again, he must have kissed someone off limits. Holy shit I hope he didn’t kiss anyone he was related too. That would be gross.

‘You didn’t kiss a family member, did you? Because that’s just weird, even if your family does practically make up all of the Hogwarts population.’

Al made a face, ‘I didn’t kiss anyone. You did.’

I bit my lip, ‘Was it bad? Did I kiss a girl? Did I kiss an animal? BECAUSE I’M PRETTY SURE THAT’S AGAINST THE LAW.’

James grinned evilly, and it sent a chill down my back. Al groaned, again. Neither of them answered.

‘Well, come on!’ I pushed, ‘Who did I kiss? Was it Elle? Don’t tell me it was Dom, she would never let this go.’

It was at this moment Freddie came out of the bathroom, towel around waist, with a devilish grin on his face. Oh god, it wasn’t Freddie was it? I’d take being gay over kissing Freddie any day.

‘Don’t tell me it was him!’ I exclaimed, pointing a finger at Freddie. His face fell in mock hurt, and he hmphed. ‘That’s just rude, Halle.’

My eyes opened in horror, ‘It was him!?’

Connor groaned from his bed, poor bloke was obviously still hungover. ‘Shut up, all of you! It was James, Halle! You fucking made out with James. Now shut the fuck up!’ he moaned, throwing a pillow at my head.

James? Did he just say James? I looked up at him in horror, and he smirked down at me.

Well, at least I wasn’t gay.

The room was silent for a full thirty seconds, before I finally managed to form a coherent sentence.

‘James?’ I sputtered, ‘WHY? HOW? WHAT? EEP.’

Alright, a semi-coherent sentence.

And then the memories came flooding back. The sixth shot, the amazing kiss (which sent shivers down my spine), the punch from Al and my dramatic fainting.

‘Is it all coming back to you, now?’ James asked, smiling slightly.


Al groaned again, ‘I cannot believe you did that, Halle.’

I panicked. I totally panicked. I didn’t know what to do or what to say, so I curled up in a ball and let loopy Halle take over.

‘Halle is not available right now. She is currently in mortal shame. Please don’t follow her, as she is going to throw herself off the Astronomy Tower. Thank you, come again,’ I said, before promptly jumping off the floor and then running away.

Because I am so cool under pressure.


Jordin was the first to find me, nestled by one of the huge windows in the Astronomy Tower. I had been having quite a nice time, wallowing in my own thoughts. I don’t think I’ve moved from my curled-in-a-ball position for at least an hour.

‘Everyone’s been looking for you,’ he noted, sitting next to me.

I sighed and leaned slightly into him, ‘I screwed up, Jordin.’

‘Why? All you did was kiss the bloke. You like him, so you kissed him. You didn’t break the law.’

I bit my lip, ‘But that’s the thing, Jordin. I don’t like him. I really don’t.’

He groaned slightly, ‘Am I really the appropriate one to be having this girly talk with? I am a manly man. A macho man. I have too much testosterone for one body.’

I laughed, ‘Whatever you say, woman. Now help me,’ I said, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him violently.

‘Jeez, alright! Calm down, woman! No offense, Halle, but even I can see it. You love the bloke!’

I shook my head, ‘I really don’t. I mean, I thought I did. But I was drunk. Inebriated, I tell you! And did you hear how douchey he was? He actually asked Al if he could tap me. I mean, that is Grade-A douche behaviour,’ I explained, resting my head back on his shoulder.

He tensed a little, ‘He actually said that to you?’

I shrugged, ‘He was drunk, so I’m not really thinking too much of it. I’m sure he didn’t mean it. Like I didn’t mean the kiss,’ I reasoned, mostly for my own benefit.

Jordin made a humming sound, ‘Makes sense.’

‘It does right! I am clever. From now on, you shall refer to me as Halle the Clever. Or the Clever One. Please, take your pick.’

‘Halle the mentally-retarded?’

I turned to look at him, ‘No. Just no.’

‘Oh ma gawd. That is not how you talk to your best girlie friend, Halle! I thought we were going to be B.F.F.A.L.U.W.G.F.H!’ he exclaimed.

It is decided. He is a poof.

‘B.F.F.A.L.U.W.G.F.H? What does that even mean?’ I asked, a little wearily.

‘Best friends forever at least until we graduate from Hogwarts! Duh!’

‘You, my friend,’ I said, poking him in the chest. ‘Are a poof.’

He opened his mouth indignantly, ‘I am no such thing! In fact…’

This piqued my interest, ‘In fact, what? What are you in-facting? DO YOU FANCY SOMEONE, JORDIN? TELL ME! TELL ME!’ I said, jumping on him.

He tried to work his way from my grip but I was too strong. True, he was laughing the entire time and he looked like he was going to pass out from the lack of air, but still, I AM MADE OF MUSCLE, BABY!

I swung my legs so there was one on either side of him. Whoopsies, I’m straddling the poor bloke. Oh well, he’ll recover.

‘Oh, this is gross! It’s like being jumped by Kiara!’ he moaned, trying to push me off without physically touching me.

I scoffed, ‘Did you really just compare me to your two-year-old niece?’ I asked.

He nodded, completely serious, ‘Sexually wise, you and Elle are the exact equivalent to my niece.’

I beamed at him, ‘That’s great! Now tell me, who is the lucky girl?’

He instantly looked shy. Oh my god, this was actually adorable! ‘Was it that Hufflepuff chick you were chatting up last night?’ I asked slyly, astonished I could actually recall the memory.

His cheeks were slowly turning a tomato red, ‘I was not chatting her up! Besides, even if I did like her –not saying that I do– I would never be able to date her. Her siblings would bash me up to oblivion.’

Her siblings? Oh god, he was in love with a Wotter.

‘Not a Wotter!’ I moaned, slapping him lightly across the forehead, ‘Just pick a more untouchable girl, why don’t you?’

He smiled sheepishly, ‘That obvious?’

I furrowed my brow in concentration, ‘Dom?’

He shook his head.



‘Lily? Dude, she’s like fourteen!’

He made a face, ‘Still no.’

‘Just tell me already! We’ll be here for years if I list every Wotter girl!’

He sighed in defeat, before mumbling, ‘ImayslightlyfancyLucyWeasleybutyoucan’ttellanyoneorelseI’llkillyou.’


‘Lucy fucking Weasley! I like Lucy Weasley!’

My eyes opened wide, ‘Ooh. She’s hot. Totally in your league. Actually, she might be a little out of yours, but that’s alright. We can work around that. You guys would be the cutest couple!’

I’m not even lying for his benefit. Jordin was tall, muscular with perfectly shaped jet-black hair. Lucy was small and petite, with a wild head of blonde hair which contrasted hugely with the rest of her family. But she was still beautiful. I think it’s the eyes. They’re this bright, crystal blue; kind of like a cloudless sky on a summer’s day.

After that lovely description, I could be a poet. Halle the Poet. Damn straight.

I nodded approvingly, ‘Halle the Poet officially approves! Permission to meddle?’

His face contorted into a horrified expression, ‘Please don’t! Please, please, please don’t! STOP IT! I KNOW YOU’RE THINKING ABOUT IT! PLEASE STOP! DO NOT MEDDLE IN MY PERSONAL AFFAIRS!’ he yelled, and began to thrash around from under my straddling-position.

There was an awkward cough from the door, ‘Should I come back later?’

I turned my head to face the intruder, not that it really mattered, since I’d know that voice anywhere. Some naïve part of me thought it could be a very mature, rough-voiced house-elf.

Curses. It wasn’t.

‘Play it cool,’ I muttered to Jordin, before addressing James.

‘Hey James,’ I said, nodding my head towards him in nonchalance, ‘This is not what it looks like-’

‘STOP LOOKING AT US LIKE THAT! SHE HAS THE SAME SEX APPEAL TO ME AS MY BABY NIECE,’ Jordin yelled out, looking frenzied and stressed, ‘GET THE FUCK OFF ME, WOMAN!’ he said with a final shove.

Ouch. I fell right onto the floor. Something cracked. Cracked I tell you!

‘Way to play it cool,’ I groaned from my uncomfortable position, unable to move because of my sore muscles.

He then, being the macho man he is, ran out of the room, with his fingers in his ears, yelling, ‘MY NIECE! SHE’S LIKE MY NIECE! SEX APPEAL OF MY NIEEEEEEEECE!’

Ladies and gentlemen: one of my best friends.

Isn’t my life the cooliest?

James just leaned against the door, looking unabashed. ‘His niece?’ he inhaled sharply through his teeth, ‘Wow, Thomas. Are you that bad in bed?’

Shit. We were back to a last name basis.

This is not good.

A/N: SUP LOVELY READERS. had a lovely easter? eat some chocolate? heaven knows i did... DID YOU KNOW THERES SUCH A THING AS CHOCOLATE PIE?


Anyway the next chappies nearly done, so expect an update within the week. WHAT? WHAT? YES. THE WEEK. MEDAL? YES. I WANT ONE.


k. i'll shuddup now. hope you enjoyed :D

Disclaimer: 'Ten thousand blundering typhoons'- Captain Haddock, from Tintin by Herges.

'Pocketful of Sunshine,' song by Natasha Benegfield.

and ofc, harry potter is jk's wonderful creation. i have halle though. WANNA SWAP, JK?

yeah, didn't think so.


Chapter 15: Of Nutters and Fanclubs
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Of Nutters and Fanclubs


Why, oh why, did he call me Thomas?

It’s making me feel guilty. And I don’t do guilt. Guilt is for people who do bad things which make them feel guilty. I never do bad things, hence I am never guilty!
Well there was that one time I killed Derek’s hamster.

And Bob’s fish.

And Albus’s salamander.

And Elle’s frog.

And Jordin’s hermit crabs.

It has been an official rule for quite a while: I’m not allowed to go near pets. Apparently they die at my touch.

Quite depressing really.

I groaned as I tried to get up, a stab of pain shooting up my spine, ‘Owwwww. Stupid Jordin. Broke my back. In pain. No one cares. No one ever cares about Halle. Halle can just go and die in a hole. No one will care about Halle. No one except the Precious.’

I may have lapsed into a Gollum/Smeagol accent towards the end of my third-person rant. But you already know I’m weird.

And now you know I love Lord of the Rings!

Especially Gollum. He’s a sexy beast. In the words of James Potter, ‘I’d tap that.’

James was now towering over me, an amused expression on his face, ‘A Lord of the Rings fan, Thomas?’

I rolled my eyes, he was obviously a judger. It was still cool to watch old, Muggle fantasy movies, right?

Ah, shut up.

‘Could you help me? I’m in pain.’

His hard expression softened a bit, and to my extreme relief he pulled me up gently and propped me against the wall.

Ah, pain slightly gone.

‘Thank you,’ I said, ‘Much appreciated.’

His face hardened again, ‘No problem, Thomas.’

‘Stop that!’ I squeaked, before I could stop myself.

But I didn’t want to stop myself. Because I hated it when he called me Thomas. It sounded ugly and wrong. And it made me sound like I was a boy.

‘Stop what?’ he asked, quirking an eyebrow.


‘Stop calling me Thomas. Why are you calling me Thomas? I’m not a boy, you know. Or a tank engine.’

He slid down next to me, ‘First of all, a tank engine? I’m not even going to ask. And second of all, I only call the people I like by their first names. And right now you don’t make the cut,’ he said, his words flowing from his mouth like a river.

An ice cold river of HATE!

I’ll admit, that hurt a little bit. I turned to face him, putting on my puppy-dog eyes.

My puppy-dog eyes are the win. They are the coolest. Everyone bows down to the power of the eyes. They are just too strong. ‘Why don’t you like me right now?’ I asked, in a small voice.

I’ve gotta play this whole damsel-in-distress thing to its full potential. Gryffindor’s are hopeless when it comes to a damsel.

I’m not even going to say that he was a deprived child for not knowing Thomas the Tank Engine. That clay-mation show was MY LIFE throughout my toddler years.

His expression cracked a little bit. MUHAHAHA, the power of the eyes. The eyes always work.

‘You don’t just make out with your friends, Halle. It’s not cool. It leads them on,’ he said, running his fingers through his hair.

‘I’m sorry,’ I replied, genuinely apologetic, ‘But I was drunk. Inebriated. Off-my-rocker. Not in the right state. Under the influence. Unable to drive a car-’

‘Alright!’ he said, cutting me off, ‘I get the point.’

‘I really am sorry, even though I don’t know why you’re so upset. It was just a kiss. And I wouldn’t be leading you on, since you don’t like me,’ I said, producing my clear logic. Then a scary thought crossed my mind, ‘You don’t like me, right?’

Eep. This thought never occurred to me before. James might actually like me. Well that would change everything! We could get together, get married and then ride off into the sun-

‘Don’t flatter yourself, Thomas. James Potter never likes just one girl,’ he said, with finality in his tone which I didn’t want to argue.

I deflated a little bit. Ignore previous thoughts, they were wrong.

‘So we good?’ I asked, turning my puppy-dog eyes onto full blast.

He smiled, ‘We good, my homie.’

I laughed, ‘You remembered! We have a thing. We can call each other homie. We’ll both pretend to be gangsta. I, obviously, am already agangsta coz I’ve been at it for years, but you’ll just have to pretend. Maybe take some classes or something. Listen to some rap music? There’s this really cool guy called-’

‘Alright!’ he said, cutting me off again, ‘You need to stop talking. And you need to stop pretending to be a gangsta,’ he scolded, although he was smiling.

‘So are we calling each other homie from now on?’

‘No,’ he replied, shaking his head, ‘I think Halle is just fine. It’s a very pretty name, you know.’

I didn’t want them to, but his words made me blush.

Success: Halle/James bromance back into action.

And I couldn’t be more excited.


‘Drowning. In. Homework,’ I managed to gasp out, suffocating around the piles of parchment surrounding me.

James snorted, ‘You’re in Ravenclaw. You’re meant to be good at this shit.’

I scowled, ‘You try catching up on a week’s worth of sixth year homework. Stupid training sessions for the stupid Tournament ruining my stupid life,’ I muttered, immersing myself once again into Hogwarts: A History.

This book is gold. Gold I tell you!

‘In case you haven’t realised, I’m catching up on homework too. Hogwarts Champion Number One, sitting right here,’ he replied, gesturing to himself.

‘Nuh-huh,’ I said, shaking my head, ‘I am Hogwarts Champion Number One. You can be Number Two.’

He snickered. ‘Did you just called me Number Two?’ he asked mockingly, raising an eyebrow.

I narrowed my eyes at him, before rolling up my Transfiguration essay and swatting him on the head, ‘Immature bastard.’

‘Gee, you’re insults are the tops. So creative,’ he patronized, rubbing his head. It made his hair stick up at even more alternate angles. How did that make him look even more adorable?

It’s like James’ hair plays by its own rules. It’s just bad ass like that.

‘Remind me again why I agreed to do my homework with you?’ I asked him, but I was mostly just staring at his hair. It looked really soft, and from my experience, it is very soft. Is it strange I have a sudden desire to stroke his hair?

Yes, it probably is.

‘Because nobody else wanted to help us, and if we put this off any longer we might actually drown in work,’ he replied, finishing his Potions essay. ‘Success! Potions is completed!’ he said, reaching out across the table and engulfing me in a hug.

This, of course, resulted in the table flipping over, and the two of us landing with a huge crash. Heads flipped towards us from every corner of the library, and I cursed James under my breath, ‘Stupid fat hobbit, attacking me from across the table,’ I muttered crazily.

He looked at me quizzically, ‘Did you just call me a stupid, fat hobbit?’

I nodded. That’s socially acceptable right?

Probably not.

‘You are a crazy bint.’

‘Gee, your insults are the tops. So creative,’ I mimicked, pushing him off me.

I could still see everyone watching us out of the corner of their eyes. This is exactly the kind of attention I didn’t like getting. But I was kind of getting used to it.

Sighing, I righted the table with a wave of my wand and the furniture and our parchment zoomed back to their original place. Oh, I love magic.

He held out his hand and pulled me up, and I returned to my seat, ‘Add the essay to the completed pile with pride, James!’ I said, pointing to the growing pile of parchment of our combined finished essays and homework questions.

I only had to finish Transfiguration. And then I could blow this Popsicle stand.

He grinned mischievously at me, ‘That was my last one!’ he cried gleefully, ‘See you later, alligator!’ he said, grabbing the pile and leaving.


I was rewarded by a chorus of ‘SHHHHHHHH!’ from the students in the surrounding area. One girl went as far as to mutter, ‘Fucking Potter’s slag won’t shut up.’

I glared at her; did she really think I couldn’t hear her? She should be afraid. AFRAID I TELL YOU. I am Halle: Hogwarts Champion and Punching Superstar.

I’m fairly sure I’ve never talked to her before, but she looked vaguely familiar. She was wearing a Gryffindor scarf and had light, brown stick-straight hair. Nothing special. I then scrutinized the large orange button she was wearing, which had multi-coloured letters flashing brightly; ‘PROUD MEMBER OF THE JAMES POTTER FAN-CLUB’

I nearly gagged.

She must have felt my gaze (because it’s so intimidating. Rawr) because she turned to look at me, with a severe coldness in her eyes, ‘Can I help you, Thomas?’ she asked, spitting out my name like it was venom.

I narrowed my eyes at her, sending her a squint/glare. I have been perfecting these; they are actually quite intimidating now. One of the second years I was practising on actually squeaked. It was at that moment I tapped my fingers together (evil cartoon character style) and I realised I needed to stop taking so much sugar.


I coughed a little, and then scratched my nose. I don’t know why. Nose-scratching is just cool; spies do it all the time to send secret messages to each other. And I want to be a spy one day.

And Goddamit I will be!

Inspirational Halle right there.

James-fan-girl looked at me like I had sprouted an extra head, so I intensified my squint/glare and answered, ‘I don’t appreciate being called a slag, fan girl,’ I smirked, feeling victorious when her hand flew up to cover the badge she was wearing.

She regained her cool composure though, ‘James Potter is amazing, and he deserves every member of his fan club. You, however, you obsessive little creep, do not deserve him. So kindly back off.’

I smiled sweetly at her, ‘Just remind me, how many times have you actually talked to James in your entire life?’ I asked. A conquering smirk spread to my face as her cheeks bloomed a bright red colour.

‘Plenty of times. Most of the time he’s expressing his undying love for me,’ she lied coolly, with a poker-face on.

Bitch, I invented the poker-face. There’s no fooling me.

‘Oh, really? So if I were to ask him, he would confirm everything you’re saying?’

Her expression didn’t waver in the slightest, ‘Go ahead. I’ve talked to him so many times we’re practically best friends. In fact, I’m the closest girl-friend he has, outside of his family,’ she finished, proudly.

If I could raise an eyebrow, I would be doing so right now.

Damn my immobile hair.

‘Great!’ I replied, absolutely chipper, ‘He’s coming back now. Why don’t we ask him for ourselves?’

I am officially to be called Halle: The amazing Plan-Maker.

She looked absolutely humiliated as James plopped back down into the seat opposite me. ‘Sorry, forgot your essays were here too,’ he said, placing them back on the table.

‘You, my friend, are a genius!’ I proclaimed, cynically.

‘Calm down, Captain Sarcastic. Do you want me to stick around till you finish your essay? I felt bad about ditching you. We can go back to the Common Room after, you’ve only ever been to the sixth year boy’s dorm room once,’ he said, winking.

The Gryffindor girl next to me scowled, and I smirked triumphantly. Yes, I’ve been to the boy’s dorm room. What of it?

No, I am not a slag.

I shook my head, ‘No thanks,’ I replied, nonchalantly, ‘Better things to do, people to see, you know, the works.’

I don’t really have anything to do, but let’s just pretend that in this moment, I have a life.

He scoffed, ‘Bullshit. You don’t have a life.’

Woah. Did he just read my mind or some shit? This boy is creepier than I originally thought.

‘That’s mean, James Sirius Potter. Take it back.’


‘Do it, now.’


‘You will not relent to my power? Then bear the puppy dog eyes, my friend!’ I proclaimed, sticking out my bottom lip and widening my eyes to have a deer-caught-in-headlights effect.

It works wonders on this boy! His willpower levels just melt to zero. At least, that’s what I like to think.

‘Alright! Alright! Whatever you want! Just stop doing that thing with your eyes. It’s too fucking adorable,’ he cried out, as if in psychical pain.

Boys. So easy.

The Gryffindor girl scowled again. I could practically smell her jealousy. Damn straight bitch, James Potter thinks I’m fucking adorable.


‘Anyway, I have a question to ask you,’ I said, turning around in my seat so I was facing the Gryffindor girl. She had tried to build a wall of books around her, but I collapsed it with a poke of my finger. She glared at me.

I had also noticed she had removed her badge, which disappointed me a little bit.

I’m not sure why I was acting so protective of James. It’s not like I liked him. It’s not like he liked me. So why was I doing this again?

Right. Because the Gryffindor girl’s a bitch.

‘This is my friend-’ I paused, realising I didn’t know her name. I waited patiently for her to fill in the blank, and she reluctantly answered, ‘Rebecca.’

I smiled, ‘This is my new friend, Rebecca. Say hi, Rebecca! This is James,’ I said, gesturing to the boy opposite me. The introduction was redundant; she obviously knew who he was, since she was in his fan club.

James looked mildly interested, ‘Great friend you are, Halle. Hi Rebecca,’ he said, somewhat half-heartedly.

Rebecca’s face turned into a deep shade of red, and a thin sheen of sweat covered her brow.

Bitch was nervous.

‘Quick question,’ I asked, leaning across the table. He looked intrigued and leaned towards me.

Mm, he smells like Quidditch again…

Right, back on task, like the unflappable Ravenclaw I am.

‘Have you ever expressed your undying love for Rebecca here?’ I asked, smirking.

He turned to look at her, ‘No, I don’t think I have. Why?’

‘Oh, no reason,’ I said, innocently finishing my Transfiguration essay, ‘Becca here has put me under the impression that she was, what did you say Becca? James’s closest girl friend outside his family?’

BAM! Homework done, I am so awesome. I couldn’t help but enjoy Rebecca’s horrified expression as I stuffed all my stationary into my bag.

I am so win. I should have been put in Slytherin, look me at me! Being cunning and devious.

Oh, Al would be proud.

She stuttered extremely unattractively, ‘I-was-only-joke-kidding!-eep-autograph?’ she stumbled out.

James looked at her like she had turned into some sort of alien (preferably a Dalek). ‘My closest girl friend, eh?’ he said, his voice low and husky and masculine.


Rebecca had successfully morphed into a puddle of giggling goo.

‘Oh James,’ she squawked, ‘Halle was just kidding, weren’t you Halle?’

I furrowed my eyebrows, before shaking my head. ‘Nope,’ I replied, popping the ‘p’.

James gave me an amused glance, before returning his stare back to Rebecca, ‘As a member of my fan club, you should know that Rule Twenty-Nine states that you can’t spread lies about James Potter,’ he said, matter-of-factly.

She looked shocked. I burst out laughing; as this situation was just too damn funny. James’s fan club had rules? This is too interesting.

‘You done?’ he asked, gesturing to my essay.

I somehow managed to nod throughout my epileptic fit of laughter, my face turning the same colour as Rose Weasley’s hair.

‘Alright, let’s go!’ he said, grabbing my hand in one of his and my bag in the other.

Rebecca seemed to be in a state of mortal shame and humiliation. Now I felt kind of bad, Ravenclaws don’t do the whole embarrassment thing.

‘You know the rules of your fan club?’ I choked out between giggles, ‘That. Is. So. Pathetic.’

He glared at me, ‘Jealous?’ he challenged with a cocky raise of his eyebrow, before turning to return to the Gryffindor Common Room.

Tut, tut, James Potter. Not one of your better insults.

I turned the opposite way to get back to the ‘Claws, but not before yelling, ‘YOU KNOW THE RULES!’

Even though he was a good fifty meters away, I could hear his scoff.


you guys probably know this, but assignments suck. as do tests. BUT i am pleased to say i am nearly done with the next chapter and should be up in like two weeks :D




Don't own thomas the tank engine; belongs to Reverand W. Audry.

Lord of the rings... IS MINE! ahaha, no im not that awesome. property of j.r.r tolkein,


Chapter 16: Of Nutters and Cliched Romances
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Chapter 16: Of Nutters and Clichéd Romances

‘This pasta is delicious!’ I yelled to no one in particular, ravenously devouring the Carbonara which had been made especially for me by my favourite house elf; Curtin.

Curtin is by far my most favourite house elf, because he is adorable (he wears this little over-all ensemble, and he has this yellow hat. Yeah bitch, you heard me, yellow) and he makes the most delicious pasta ever.

Like, ever.

And he has little boxes all packaged up for me so whenever I want some amazing Curtin-pasta, I just have to bop down to the kitchen and poof, instant pasta.

‘I think I am in love with him!’ I proclaimed, dipping the fork back into the pasta and lifting out a forkful.

Elle looked at me with mild interest, ‘Who? James?’ she asked, too earnestly for my liking.

I made a face, ‘Psh. That’s gross. I’m talking about Curtin. I think I’ll take him to the Yule Ball, because his of his excellent pasta-making skills!’

Jordin hummed in agreement, ‘That would actually be pretty cool, if you took a House Elf to the Yule Ball. Showing your support for Elf rights or something.’

Elle’s eyes opened in agreement, ‘It wouldn’t be cool, it would be fucking legendary! Just imagine the headlines. Triwizard Champion: Humbling the House Elves!’ she dramatized, spreading her arms out.

I snorted, ‘It would definitely get me some attention, that’s for sure. Anyways, back to the Complicated Love Life of Curtin and Halle. After we go to the Yule Ball together, Curtin and I will date throughout Hogwarts, and then we’ll get married-’

Jordin grunted in interruption, ‘Of course. Trust Halle to marry the house elf.’

I hmphed indignantly, ‘He’s not just any house elf. Curtin is French! Hogwarts had him transferred straight from Beauxbatons to make those prissy French kids feel more at home. So HA, he’s talented and cultured, more than you’ll ever be,’ I teased, poking my tongue at him.

‘And our wedding will be spectacular. There will be drinking, and food and dancing-’

Dancing. Dancing. I still can’t remember much from the party last night, but someone was dancing and it made me excited.

‘YOU!’ I yelled, pointing a finger at Elle. She jumped at the sheer volume of my voice.

‘What about me?’ she asked, wearily.

‘You were dancing with Freddie at the party weren’t you, Elle?’ I asked, propping my head on my fists, staring at my best friend intently, all house-elf thoughts immediately forgotten.

‘Dammit, I thought you wouldn’t remember,’ was her reply.

Jordin snorted. ‘You think you’re best friends would forget the fact that you danced with the boy you’re in love with? Not likely.’

Elle looked at him, ‘Sometimes I find it hard to believe that you’re not a girl.’

He just smiled, seeing as he’s grown accustomed to our pathetic attempts to insult his manhood. ‘Me too, Elle. Me too.’

I laughed, before turning my attentions back on Elle, ‘So? Spill girlfriend!’ I said, slapping my hands to my cheeks with an earnest expression in my eyes.

She bit her lip and continued starting at the fireplace, ‘It was…nice.’

Jordin quirked an eyebrow. ‘Nice? That’s it? No-oh my god, Freddie is so hot!’

Elle turned red, ‘I don’t think he’s hot! Not that hot anyway.’

This moment was in need of an eyebrow quirk. But since I am incapable of doing something as simple as raising a single eyebrow, I decided to do it manually.

As in I’d hold my left eyebrow down with my hand and force my right eyebrow to struggle up my forehead.


‘Halle, you look ridiculous,’ she commented, shaking her head at my failure.

‘YOU ARE RIDICULOUS. JUST ADMIT THAT YOU LIKE FREDDIE SO YOU CAN FINALLY GET TOGETHER!’ I screeched, before jumping off the seat and tackling her.

I’m not sure why I tackled her.

Blame James, he’s made me more violent.

She squealed, ‘What the fuck are you doing?’

‘Admit it! Admit that you like him!’ I demanded, unforgiving in my iron-tight grip.

Or at least, I thought it was iron-tight.

Jordin was just laughing.

‘Don’t just stand there, you useless bastard,’ yelled Elle to Jordin, ‘Get this fucking crazy bint off me!’

I scoffed, ‘I was going to let go, but that was just rude. No freedom for Elle!’ I chanted, ‘Admit! Admit!’

She let out a defeated huff and sighed, ‘Alright! Alright! I like Freddie,’ she admitted, so I let her out of my grip.

She was going to be sore tomorrow.

She scowled, ‘I’ll get you back for that. I’ll steal Benny!’

My hands instinctively reached out for Benny, and I cuddled him close to my chest. Benny was my prized possession, and I wasn’t ever going to let him out of my sight!

If you haven’t guessed already, Benny is the name I gave to the grey ball I acquired in the First Task. I’d done everything one could possibly do to that ball.

I actually sat for a full seven hours all by myself, leafing through hundreds of spell books and attempting every single hex, curse and enchantment I could find on that stupid little ball. (Sans for the dangerous ones; it wasn't like I was going to Avada Kedavra the poor thing). Result: Absolutely nothing. It was like the ball was immune to all magic.

So now I’m carrying it around with me everywhere I go, hoping human companionship will be enough to coax the ball into giving me whatever secrets it’s hiding.

Oh, and I talk to it. He’s a good listener, Benny.

Elle narrowed her eyes, ‘That’s right, bitch. Be scared,’ she threatened.

‘As much as this conversation interests me,’ said Jordin, ‘I’m off to stalk Lucy.’

I sputtered, ‘I’m sorry, did you just say stalk?’

‘I think it’s kind of cute,’ Elle said, although she was smirking.

I just groaned and dropped my head into my hands, ‘We’ve lost you to the dark side!’

He shrugged, ‘At least they have cookies. Besides, Lucy is fun to stalk. She’s always smiling and flipping her hair off her shoulder. Stalking is the tops!’ Jordin declared before leaving us.

I just shook my head, ‘That boy. Too sweet for his own good.’

‘Tell me about it.’

Playing with the grey ball in my hands, a thought struck my mind. ‘Want to help me solve Benny?’ I asked.

Elle made a face, ‘That ball is starting to annoy me. Maybe it really is just a ball, and you have to use it as a weapon in the next task!’

I rolled my eyes, ‘Yes. I’m sure the best the Ministry could come up with was a ball to throw at the enemy.’

Her face screwed in concentration, when suddenly her features lit up with excitement. I could practically see the light bulb ding on top of her head. I leaned forward in anticipation, ‘Did you just think of something?’ I asked, anxiously.

Nodding victoriously, she explained, ‘Maybe inside the ball is a frog. And this frog talks. And you have to go through some sort of obstacle course, which only the frog knows how to master. What do you think?’ she suggested, an accomplished twinkle in her eye.

It was in this moment; I grabbed a pillow off the couch and began beating her with it.

‘Stupid. Bint. Got. Me. Excited. For. Some. Stupid. Frog. Idea,’ I said, between hits.

She squealed. ‘You’re too violent, Halle Thomas. I’m just trying to be useful. Why don’t you go ask Al?’

I steadied the flow of beats from my pillow-of-doom, ‘Great idea!’ I chirped, throwing my arms around her.

She snorted, ‘Crazy bint.’

‘Even pillow fights were too violent for the likes of us Ravenclaws,’ I joked, scooping up Benny and walking towards the door.



I keep on hearing a giggle.

Why do I keep on hearing a giggle?

Al and I have been at solving Benny for two hours now. Exhausted, we were drooping over tables in the library; a fortress of books built around our little desk.

I had become desperate, now checking Muggle books for any clues about Benny.

‘Hmm,’ I pondered, ‘Too light to be gold. Or silver. Or bronze,’ I said, flipping through the pages of a Science textbook.

‘Halle!’ Al exclaimed, head rising from the desk in excitement, ‘I think the ball may be hollow!’

‘Well considering we’re trying to open the ball, I would assume it’s hollow, correct?’ I replied, pitying him when he dropped his head down in defeat.

‘Well what are you doing? Like that Muggle stuff’s going to help,’ he argued, grumpily. Al didn’t like being wrong.

‘I’m trying to find out what it’s made of,’ I replied, flicking the page.

‘How is finding out what it’s made of going to be any use?’

‘Well,’ I replied, eager to share my theory with him, ‘By finding out what it’s made of, we can find out how to defeat it, so to speak. If it’s flammable, we can try burning it. If it’s water soluble, we can wash it. If it’s affected by acids, we can dissolve it. We’ll, unravel it,’ I explained, proud of the theory I had developed.

‘Well, why don’t we just try a bunch of stuff on it?’ he asked, ‘I’m sure Uncle George and Aunt Hermione have tonne of random acid stuff somewhere.’

‘I don’t want to risk damaging it,’ I replied. ‘Besides, what if the ball had traces of carbonate and I mixed it with acid? Factoring in the fact that Benny is magic the reaction would probably give off excessive amounts of carbon dioxide and I’d choke to death,’ I explained, shrugging my shoulders.

He looked at me with an awestruck expression, ‘Sometimes I forget how damn smart you are.’

Blushing slightly I returned to my book, checking to see if the numbers 32 and 141 were anywhere in sight. Those were the two numbers inscribed on the side of the box which Benny had come in.

Germanium had 32 protons and electrons.

Could the ball be made of germanium?

Heh. That's a funny word. Germaniooooom. Sounds like geronimo. I WONDER IF THERE'S A CONNECTION?

Ahem. I can concentrate.

Just as I was about to do an in-depth study on germanium (oh the joys of being a Triwizard Champion) I heard that infuriating giggle once more.

‘Did you hear that giggle?’ I asked, poking my head over the top of our fortress.

Al looked up from his book, ‘A giggle?’

I nodded, ‘A giggle.’

‘I am a manly man. I do not giggle.’

I scoffed, ‘I never said that you were the one doing the giggling. I can just hear a giggle.’

He looked at me like I was going loopy. And to be honest I get that look a lot, ‘Maybe we should take a break.’

I shook my head, ‘No! I’m fine. I’m really grateful, actually. Thanks for doing this for me, even though you’re fraternizing with the enemy.’

He smiled, ‘Anything for my little sis,’ he said, reaching over to fluff my hair.

And there it was again. The giggle.

‘Alright! That’s enough! I most definitely heard a giggle!’ I exclaimed, jumping over our fortress to look for the source of the mysterious giggling noise.

In fact the library was pretty deserted except for the ten odd students who were finishing their homework on a Saturday afternoon.

Seems like the perfect time to break out into song.

Sunshine, lollipops and RAINBOWS. Everything that’s something, something, something, something- er- together!’ I began muttering underneath my breath.

So I didn’t know all the words to the song. Sue me.

Cornering the source of the giggle, which was behind a bookshelf, I brandished a finger at the lone figure huddling behind the books.

‘Gotcha!’ I yelled, uncovering the culprit of the filthy giggling.

It was a girl, a fifth year Slytherin to be exact. She had deep, dark, brown hair which came down to her shoulders, with huge eyes to match. She was the fitting image for the word adorable, because that’s what she was. I wanted to put blush on her cheeks and stuff her into a little polka-dotted dress and love her forever.

In a non-creepy, non-lesbian way of course.

She jumped slightly, before turning bright red, ‘Uh-I was just-reading-books-are-cool,’ she stammered.

I plopped down next to her on the floor and stuck my hand out, ‘Halle Thomas,’ I introduced.

‘Skye Reed,’ she answered, taking my hand.

‘Alright Skye. Care to share?’

She looked slightly hesitant, before nodding her head, ‘Um. What’s up?’

‘Why are you hiding behind a bookshelf? In what seems to be a prime position to be stalking Albus and me?’

She turned bright red, ‘I wasn’t stalking!’



I smirked, something was going on here. I cocked an eyebrow –alright, I lied, there was no epic eyebrow cocking involved–and opened my mouth to ask why, when-

‘Halle, what are you doing here with Reed?’ questioned Al’s voice from the entrance of the bookshelf.

His expression was disdained, like there was something rotten under his noise. And I’m guessing this rotten thing was Skye.

I turned to face Skye, who was once an adorable fifth year, but now seemed to be a thundering goddess. Her eyes were spitting with anger. ‘Am I some sort of disease now, Potter?’

He scoffed, ‘Do I need to answer that question?’

Alright, this was turning into a warzone. A place no longer safe for brunettes like myself. I quickly got up, and sent the pair of them questioning glances.

I have a sneaking suspicion that Skye certainly wasn’t spying on me. So, why go from stalking a guy one second, to battling him the next?

‘This looks like it has history,’ I said, motioning towards the pair of hormonal teenagers, ‘And I’m no good at history.’

Al snorted. ‘That’s alright, Reed’s not good at anything either.’

Skye growled, ‘At least I can pass the easiest subject at Hogwarts. Still getting D’s in Divination, Potter?’ she taunted, a victorious smirk playing on her lips.

I don’t know how strongly I can stress this, but Al hates being wrong. And failing things.

I inhaled sharply through my teeth, ‘Burn.’

Al sent me a condescending glare, ‘Get back to the book fortress, Halle. I won’t put you through that thing’s presence any longer,’ he said, tugging on my hand and leading me away.

I didn’t let my eyes leave Skye for a second, now that Al wasn’t looking, she looked dejected. Put out. Like a flame which had just been doused by a fire-hose.

Now any normal person with proper social etiquette would have said something like, ‘Are you OK?’ or, ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

Instead, being the socially retarded nutter I am, I mouthed to her the words, ‘Do you like pie?’

My mouthing skills suck, so I was quite surprised when she laughed slightly and mouthed back, ‘Who doesn’t?’

I nodded approvingly. I think I’m going to like this girl.


‘So you reckon the ball could be made of germanium?’ I asked Al, watching my hair touch the floor as I hung upside down on the couch.

I felt like a monkey or something.

I was currently in the Slytherin Common Room, chilling with Al because I felt like it. Plus, I was curious. Who was this Skye character? The burning desire for answers proved dominant in my Ravenclaw brain.

Al nodded enthusiastically, barely even glancing up from his Transfiguration essay, ‘Makes sense. It’s got 32 proteins and electricity,’ he replied.

I stifled a laugh, ‘Don’t you mean protons and electrons?’

He waved a dismissive hand, ‘Same thing.’

‘Question,’ I said to Al, which earned enough of his attention to get him to stop working on his essay.


‘Why are you helping me solve Benny instead of your brother?’ I asked, genuinely curious. I was extremely surprised that Al had been so enthusiastic to help me over his brother. So enthusiastic it made me slightly suspicious.

Basically, I think Albus is a spy for the Potter family.

His cheeks turned pink, before he busied himself with his essay, ‘He didn’t want my help,’ he mumbled.

Predictable. James Potter wouldn’t accept the help from the smartest bloke in Hogwarts just because he was his little brother.

Silly Gryffindor pride.

‘Well I want your help,’ I assured, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

He grunted in response and ignored my presence as his quill flew across the parchment. We slid into comfortable silence, so I decided to cover myself with a blanket and try and camouflage with the couch. I was doing a pretty good job, too.

‘Hey Al, look, I’m camouflaging!’

He didn’t even look up. ‘That’s nice, Halle.’

‘Another question?’ I asked him.

He looked up at me, success! ‘Shoot.’

‘What’s up with you and Skye?’

And then he growled. A legitimate, full-fledged growl, which made me want to run away and laugh all at the same time. So, Skye was definitely someone important. But I wanted to know who exactly she was.

Merlin, I’m such a stalker.


That’s alright, you can judge me.


That’s right. Be scared.

Reed is my fucking Potions Partner. She’s annoying as shit,’ Al explained, shoving his hands through his hair in absolute frustration, ‘I guess we’re enemies since all we do is fight. And she’s best friends with Rose, so everywhere I go, she’s fucking there too. Stupid bint is part of our group. God, she’s just so bloody annoying!

Ah, she was Rose’s best friend. They must form a little quartet- Al, Scorpius, Rose and Skye. So… they were all in the same group and Al and Skye hated each other.

Godric, this was already sounding cliché. ‘She’s pretty,’ I noted, in a nonchalant manner.

I got the exact response I expected.

Al unexpectedly dropped his quill and a startled expression took over his face, ‘Er, well, kind of. I guess.’

Mission: Success. I already know what’s happening here. She hates him. He hates her. The sexual tension becomes too much and they snog in a broom cupboard.

Boom. Got a Sherlock in the room.

I nodded knowingly, ‘And she just gets under your skin, doesn’t she?’

He nodded, wordlessly continuing his essay.

‘And sometimes when you fight, there are sparks in the air, and everything just fades to blackness?’

His jaw clenched, ‘I see what you’re doing, Halle. Stop.’

I squeaked in protest, ‘I’m not doing anything, Al. Just describing your typical argument with Skye. I’m telling the truth, aren’t I?’

He didn’t say a word.

Ha! This boy is done for.

Deciding to practise my camouflaged skills again, since Al was obviously exasperated that I’d already figured out his relationship with Skye (I wasn’t in Ravenclaw for nothing); I huddled deep into the emerald couch.

It was at this moment I felt a presence next to me, as a heavy thing dropped itself into the couch I was currently hanging off. Maybe it wasn’t human.

The thing sighed and kicked its legs onto the table opposite the couch, earning an annoyed grunt from Al.

Alright, it was definitely human.

I stiffened slightly; I didn’t get along well with most Slytherins. Sure, I got on swimmingly with Al’s little group, however the greater part of the female Slytherin population hated me because I used to date Scorpius Malfoy and I was best friends Albus Potter.

It’s not my fault I have to surround myself with beautiful people.

‘Shove your feet off the table, Scorpius,’ Al muttered darkly, before scratching away with his quill again.

Grr. Scorpius. I hated running into this bloke.

I tugged the blanket further down so it covered my head and left my feet exposed. Maybe he won’t notice me. He’s pretty thick after all.

But he gasped at my feet, so I think Scorpius seemed to be aware of a giant lump on the couch next to him. So what does he do? He pokes it.

I hate being poked.

‘Hey Al? What’s this thing I’m poking? It feels like a person, but you can never be sure these days.’

Al grunted, ‘Lift the blanket and see for yourself.’

That little bastard! He knows how awkward it is whenever Scorpius and I run into one another.

He’s setting himself up for awkwardness.

‘Ooh,’ Scorpius said, ‘Did you get me a surprise present?’

‘No,’ Al responded, ‘Why should I? You’re overemotional and you smell. So no presents for Scorpius.’

‘I’d really prefer it if you called me Scorp. Or Scor. Or Scar. That would be cool. Maybe in my next Quidditch match I could purposely get a scar and then people would call me Scar instead of Scorpius. Merlin, I hate that name.’

I giggled unintentionally and muttered, ‘Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. Worst name ever.’

There was silence before he pulled the blanket off me, ready to lecture whoever had made fun of his name. At the sight of me, his face fell short and his expression twisted into disdain. ‘Oh, it’s you.’

I shot upwards, before realising I was upside down, and fell onto the floor.

I should really stop falling. Hogwarts Champions don’t fall. Not the cool ones, anyway.

He chuckled and held out a hand for me to grab, ‘I see you’re still horribly uncoordinated.’

I nodded, ‘Some things never change.’

Yup, there it was. The awkward silence. If you listen really hard, you can hear the tumbleweed in the background.

Merlin, just kill me now.

Albus cleared his throat awkwardly, before grabbing his stuff of his desk and getting up to leave, ‘I need to go now. I –uh- smell. That’s right. Need to shower,’ he said, heading straight for the stairs.

‘Yeah, I think I’ll head back to the ‘Claw Common Room.’ I said.

‘Probably go to the library, or something.’ Scorpius said, nearly at the exact same time.

But Al began shaking his head adamantly. He stopped in his tracks, turned swiftly on his heel, and pushed us back onto the couch.

‘No.’ he said.

Scorpius raised an eyebrow, ‘You alright there, mate?’

‘No I am not alright!’ he ranted. Where did this come from? Two seconds ago he was studying and he was content. Now he looks like a tomato. An angry tomato. A tomato that wanted revenge.

Albus Potter: The Story of the Angry Tomato.

I should turn that into a movie.

‘You two have avoided each other for months. And you make every situation awkward. So neither of you is leaving until you work it out,’ he ordered, before turning on his heel and marching away.

We both sat there, gaping, ‘Poor bloke must be on his period,’ I muttered.

And at this, Scorpius laughed. Merlin, I missed his laugh. It was a really nice sound, but I noticed it didn’t give me butterflies like it used to.

Nothing really gave me butterflies anymore.

Except for James, of course.

For reasons unknown.

‘Oh screw this,’ I said, turning to face him, ‘I’ve never been good at holding grudges anyway.’

He raised an eyebrow, ‘You could have fooled me.’

‘I’m not apologizing for not talking to you, Scorpius. You cheated on me.’

A pained expression passed over his face, ‘I know. And I’m sorry.’

‘I know.’

‘But maybe we weren’t really that great as a couple, anyway. We were awesome at being friends.’

I was expecting that to hurt. But it didn’t. In fact, it sort of made sense. ‘Yeah. We were great friends. All kick-ass and shit. The Slytherin and the Ravenclaw.’

He smiled, ‘I’ve kind of missed you, Halle.’

‘I’ve kind of missed you too. But not in that way.’

‘No. Not in that way. But I’ve definitely missed you.’

That made me smile. A big, goofy smile which took over my whole face. He chuckled.

‘I’ve missed your creepy smile, too.’

That was just too much. The conversation was just too damn sappy. Deciding to put an end to it, I threw my arms around Scorpius, engulfing him a hug.

And he hugged back.

‘Friends?’ he asked, resting his chin on my shoulder.

I retracted my arms and leaned back onto the couch, ‘No way.’

He looked a little taken aback, ‘So this conversation was sort of useless.’

I smiled, ‘We’re not friends. We’re bros.’

He slumped in relief, and then flicked me on the forehead, ‘Nutter.’

In that moment, all the awkwardness we had previously been feeling, it just vanished. Disappeared. And what made things even better, was that I had no feelings for the bloke. Zero. Nada. And I could tell he felt the same way, too.

This made everything so much easier.

And I really had missed Scorpius, and I realised as we began talking, I had really missed his company. We talked for four straight hours, catching up on everything, and there was never an awkward silence.

Huzzah! Three bromances for Halle.

I am just too popular.

(Stop laughing. I could be popular. Maybe. If I tried.

Oh, shut up.)


and that's my excuse for updating so slowly. shut up, it's believeable.

IM SO SORRY READERS! ive been a lazy poohead, but i've updated now, and hopefully you like! remember to eat a pie, then savour it, and then pour out all those lovely pie-related feelings in a review, and then i shall feed the review to the giraffe so he doesn't kidnap me!

it's win-win situation!

tata lovely readers:D

Disclaimer: my name aint be rowling, so i own no potter. *cries in room* dont own the song 'Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows'- Lesley Gore. and Sherlock is Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's masterpiece. AND THATS A WRAP. penguin.

Chapter 17: Of Nutters and the Bro Code
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Chapter 17: Of Nutters and the Bro Code


‘Why do they have to travel in packs?’ wondered Elle aloud, her gaze intent on a group of Beauxbatons guys, hanging in the corridor.

I shrugged, ‘Boys are weird. No other explanation.’

The whole school was in a tense, hormone-induced state, as it was mid-December and the Yule Ball was approaching. Personally, I didn’t see the big deal about the Yule Ball. Just an excuse for teenagers to sneak alcohol onto the premises and hook up outside.

Plus, I didn’t like this whole date thing. There was no one I really wanted to date, because if I brought someone as my date, it would be a big deal. I’ve composed a list of things that would happen if I brought a date to the Yule Ball. Would you like to see it?

Of course you don’t.

Well I shall show you anyway!

List of Things which WILL happen if I bring a date to the Yule Ball.

1) Dom will squeal excitedly and plan a double wedding with my date and whatever poor sap she chose among her gaggle of adoring fans.

2) Elle will constantly shoot me suggestive eyebrow movements all night.

3) Al and Jordin will threaten the poor boy who I’ve roped into dating me. They will then do a poor impression of an overprotective father, and say something like, ‘If she’s not back by ten, there will be trouble.’

4) Freddie will probably try to initiate him into ‘our group’ by pouring faerie blood into his drink and watching him suffer.

(I should really get a counsellor for that boy)

5) Connor will constantly mouth ‘get some’ all night. And then probably pretend to grind a pole afterwards.


Sounds fun, doesn’t it?
But honestly, my hormones aren’t tingling. They’re in paralysis, I suppose. Lying dormant until someone comes along.

On a completely offhand and non-relatable topic, I wonder who James is taking.

Not that I care.

Elle heaved a long, drawn-out sigh, ‘Why won’t Freddie just grow some balls and ask me?’

It was true; it was obvious that Freddie had it bad for my best friend. He was even secluding himself from the Gryffindor Gaggle (which consisted of himself, James, Dom and Connor). More and more often he was popping up at the ‘Claw table, interrupting our general bookishness and nerdy debates (Bathilda Bagshot was not crazy, she wrote Hogwarts: A History!

I never said she wasn’t smart, just that she was ape-shit bonkers.)

Don’t mess with us Ravenclaws, we might actually debate you to death.

She narrowed her eyes and looked in my direction. ‘Who are you taking, Halle?’

I chuckled, my voice an octave higher than necessary, ‘I am an independent woman! I don’t need a man on my arm to have a good time at the ball! Feminism, Elle. Learn it, live it, love it.’

She scoffed, ‘A coward’s response.’

In retaliation, my tummy growled as I seated myself on the bench of the Ravenclaw table. Hungrily, I stabbed my fork into a fat, juicy sausage, resisting the urge to drool.

Jordin looked at my expression somewhat disgustingly, ‘You remind me of a dude,’ he stated simply.

I shrugged my shoulders, ‘Gonna initiate me into the Bro Code?’

‘The Bro Code,’ he began seriously, and I had to resist the urge to roll my eyes as he began his “manly men” speech. ‘Is a secret society in which only the manliest men can enter. There are limited initiates, and you Halle, have too much oestrogen to be one of them,’ he stated.

Elle rolled her eyes, ‘Is the Bro Code some sort of lame ass club you made when you were drunk?’

Jordin cheeks coloured slightly, ‘What? No. Yes. ALRIGHT FINE, YES. It has me, Connor, Freddie, James and Albus,’ he said, ticking the names off on his fingers.

‘And what exactly do you do at the Bro Code?’ I asked, somewhat curious.

He drew his forefinger and thumb across his lips, symbolizing that they were sealed. ‘Sorry, can’t tell you, you’re a female.’

Elle flicked some toast at him.

‘Sexist bastard,’ she muttered.

‘Balls of steel, Jordin my man,’ Freddie congratulated, seating himself next to me. ‘Even when interrogated by the enemy, you didn’t give away our manly secrets,’ he said, fist bumping Jordin.

I rolled my eyes. ‘You’re secrets aren’t worthy of females like us,’ I said, fist bumping Elle.

It was a sort of fist-bumping convention.

‘Uh, our secrets are awesome, thank you very much. Better than yours anyway,’ Jordin argued, fist-bumping Fred again.

Elle and I gasped in unison.

Them bitches did not just diss our secrets.

‘Oh no you didn’t.’ Elle said, heavily breaking up the word ‘didn’t’ so it sounded like ‘di-ent’.

Fred pursed his lips, ‘Oh yes we did.’

This meant war.

A fist bump war, that is.

What is a fist bump war, you say?

Honestly, I have next to no idea. We just kept on trying to outdo each other in levels of awesomeness when performing our fist-bumps.

Yeah, we’re a bunch of losers.

Eventually, it resulted in Elle lunging across the table to prevent the boys from finishing a pretty epic fist bump (which included a Native American tribal dance of some sort).

‘Get them Elle!’ I screeched, ignoring the bits of bacon flying everywhere under her attack.

‘I’m trying, you shall not fist bump!’ she yelled, hopping across the table (quite awesomely if I do say so myself) and vaulting herself into Freddie’s lap, successfully ending the fist bump.

‘We are victorious!’ Elle cheered, fist-bumping me, and thus ending the competition.

Then Jordin smirked. And then I smirked. And then Freddie smirked. Don’t worry, we’re not going to have a smirking war (that would just be ridiculous) but there was reason behind our smirks.

Elle was sitting in Freddie’s lap.

And his hands were around her waist.

And hers were resting on his forearms.

His very muscly forearms.

Poor dear Elle hasn’t seemed to realise yet, still revelling in the glory of our victory, but it was going to hit her.

In three…



‘Eep!’ she squeaked, ‘Sorry! I didn’t realise I was, uh, practically straddling you. Wait! No, that’s sexual. I’m just- um. Nothing. Just ignore me. Heh,’ she began mumbling pathetically.

Jordin and I shared a smirk. Elle looked at me helplessly, but I relaxed in my seat, watching this little romance unfurling before me with glee.

Elle made to climb out of Freddie’s lap, but he grabbed onto her waist, stopping her. This earned a surprised, (but pleased) squeak from Elle, as she turned around to look at him. ‘Something wrong, Freddie?’

He smirked at her reddening cheeks, ‘Are you nervous, Elle?’

She hiccoughed. ‘Nervous? Why would I be nervous? I mean, I don’t usually get nervous. Well I did last year, because we had O.W.L’s, but everyone gets nervous theee-mph!’

Her awkwardly adorable rambling was cut off as Freddie pressed his lips on hers, drawing her closer.

And that’s when all hell broke loose.

Jordin whooped in delight. I jumped up from my seat and started dancing. Yeah bitch, dancing. Macarena-style.

Dom and a couple others cheered. I looked over to see her excitedly chatting with Rose and Roxanne, happily pointing to the new couple.

I was still dancing.

Connor and James yelled, ‘YEAH BRO, GET SOME!’ from across the hall.

Sexist bastards.

I was still dancing.

Don’t even get me started on the fan girls. Most just jumped up, sobbing, and screamed something like ‘BUT HE WAS MINE! FREDDIE WAS MINE!’

The best was when a girl threw her books across the hall, aiming for Freddie and Elle but got the Slytherin table instead, wailed a little (she sounded like a dying monkey of some sort) before yelling out, ‘HE WAS SUPPOSED TO MARRY ME!’

She was in second year.

I laughed, while continuing to dance, while Elle and Freddie didn’t even bother to break apart.

Deciding to do what was best for Elle, I stopped dancing (I’m not sure why, I was dancing for so long I probably broke some sort of world record) and dragged Jordin up so we could give the new couple some privacy. True, that was kind of difficult since we were in the Great Hall, but students began filing out of the room to get to class.

Jordin was smiling proudly, ‘Our little girl’s growing up!’ he said, his voice cracking slightly.

I turned to look at him, ‘Jordin. Are you crying?’

He dropped his mouth in indignation, but not before I saw him wipe a microscopic tear from the corner of his eye, ‘Absolutely not! Manly men do not cry.’

I began laughing, grabbing his elbow and turning to leave the Hall, but not before I heard Freddie murmur, ‘Still nervous, Elle?’

‘Not a chance,’ she replied, before kissing her man again.

Oh. Teenaged clichéd romances. Aren’t they the best?


I take it back. Clichéd teenage romances are the worst.

‘They’re always holding hands and being all cutsey. It’s sickening,’ I ranted to James, on but the third day of the making of Elleddie. Alright, in all truth they weren’t so bad. In fact, the only time I’ve ever seen them sucking face was that first time in the Great Hall. Ever since then the pair of them have acted like they were on fucking Cloud Nine. This, of course, did nothing to help my whole date situation with the Yule Ball, as I was still dateless and it was fast approaching.

If I continued this way, I would become a crazy cat lady. Screw Potions, lets join the How to be a Crazy Cat Lady 101 class. I bet you it’s actually really hard work. You always have to be mean to children and you have to avoid getting rabies from your many cats.

It’s quite a feat, if I do say so myself.

James rolled his eyes, adding some powdered unicorn horn to our Antidote Potion.

‘They’re not that bad,’ he reasoned, stirring the potion clockwise.

‘Hey!’ I protested, grabbing onto his hand as he was about to stir it for the third time, ‘You’re only meant to stir it two times, dim-witted Gryffindor.’

I liked calling him that. It’s the most fitting title he has ever been deemed with.

‘Out of all the people I speak to on a day to day basis,’ he began, ‘You’re the one I want to strangle the most.’

I snorted, ‘Don’t you know how to make a girl blush?’

Professor Chang huffed. ‘Would you two stop flirting so loudly?! My head is aching,’ she complained, dropping her head into her hands and massaging her temples.

Pah. Well excuse me, lady, but we never told you to get smashed last night and come to class with a hangover. And we were not flirting.

At least, I don’t think we were. That sort of thing isn’t very explicit when handling with James.

He sent her an apologetic grin, ‘Crazy party last night?’

I scoffed; trust a Gryffindor to strike up a conversation with a grouchy Potions Master.

Professor Chang looked disgruntled as she brought her head up, opening her mouth to protest. On second thought, she shook her head glumly and dropped her head back into her hands, ‘Replace crazy party with a terrible stomach ache. I’m planning on getting my First Years to make me a Hangover Potion, it actually works great on stomach aches.’

I smiled; I liked it when teachers took advantage of their students. Especially first years, they’re so easy to trick.

‘Why didn’t you just get us to make it?’ I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me.

She scoffed, ‘Knowing you, you’d probably just bottle it up and use it yourselves,’ she noted, grimly. ‘That’s the reason I never teach the Hangover Potion to fifth years and above, it seems to only give them even more incentive to party,’ she explained.

‘But if you teach it to the first years, then by the time they’re in fifth year, they’ll have the Hangover Potion down pat, and they’ll party even harder. So, you would’ve created some sort of mutant, hybrid race of teenagers who party all weekend long,’ I pointed out. And then it hit me, this woman was committing a crime! We couldn’t let her get away with this!

There’s only one course of action.

Yelling loudly.


Professor Chang’s eyes opened wide, and James just scoffed.

‘Halle?’ he asked.


‘Shut up.’

Surrounding Potter-fangirls erupted into laughter and I rolled my eyes, watching all of them warily.

‘Oh no, let’s just let the crazy Potions master poison the brains of the first years. That’s cool. I’m so cool with that.’

Chang narrowed her eyes at me, ‘I don’t appreciate being called a crazy Potions master, Miss Thomas. 5 points from Ravenclaw.’

I scowled while James collapsed in silent laughter next to me, ‘Crazy is a relative term. Could’ve been complimenting her for all she knew,’ I muttered under my breath.

‘Heard that,’ Professor Chang sang in response, before burying her head back into her arms as the class continued with their potions.

James chuckled and I felt him outstretch his arm behind me to reach the mistletoe berries, lightly brushing the small of my back. The microscopic gesture sent a shiver down my spine, which he seemed to notice, as he smirked slightly.

‘So,’ he said, crushing the berries under the blade of his knife, ‘Taking anyone special to the Yule Ball?’

Shit. How do I reply with ‘Absolutely no one at all,’ and still sound cool? Is it even possible?

I don’t think it is. I’m going to have to bullshit my way through this situation.

I can do it right? I just have to think of the ducks. The ducks will give me the strength I need.

Ducks are fluffy.

Fluffy backwards is yffulf.

Heh. Yffulf, that’s a funny word.

‘Halle,’ James sang, snapping his fingers in front of my face, ‘You spaced out again.’

Stupid boy, he probably doesn’t know what fluffy backwards is.

I smiled sheepishly. ‘You’re obviously too boring to pay attention to.’

He smirked, and it wasn’t a particularly attractive smirk either. It was more a victorious smirk, one that made me feel like I’d lost some sort of battle.

‘I see you’re awkwardly dodging my question. What’s the matter Thomas, going solo to the Ball? Let me guess, you’re going with a bunch of fat friends and you’re going to make the night all about girl power,’ he taunted, sarcasm dripping from every vowel.

I scowled; this boy had the most violent mood swings a person can have. One day he’s nice. The next he’s all, condescending and shit. I just wanted to slap the smirk off his unfairly attractive face.

So that’s exactly what I did.

Figuratively speaking, of course.

I returned his smirk with my own, and replied. ‘Actually I have a date.’


He raised a surprised eyebrow, ‘Really? Who?’

Oh, I forgot about that. I tried the snobbish approach, ‘Really, Potter I don’t see how it’s any of your business. Besides, who’s your date?’

It was a naïve hope to think he’d be going dateless. Knowing the female population of Hogwarts, he’s probably already been bombarded with dates left and right.

He chucked slightly, ‘She’s French.’

I felt my insides deflate a little, ‘And she’s red-headed. Let me guess, Adriane Vecord?’

He smirked, ‘Do you know she’s part Veela?’

Fuck, I knew it.

‘Really? That sounds lovely. Just great. Despite how interesting your love life is, the bell is going to go soon, so if you don’t mind,’ I said, gesturing for him to pour the berries into the cauldron.

With a flick of my wand the Potion was completed, no doubt most likely the most successful in the class. Despite all my jabs at his intelligence, Potter was one of the smartest people in the year, so we made quite the Potions duo.

‘So I’ve told you my date, now you tell me yours,’ he challenged. Well it wasn’t going to work on me, stupid Gryffindor. I don’t have pride. So I’m going to avoid the question like it’s the plague and thrum my fingers on the table in an attempt to fill the awkward silence which was inevitably going to arrive.

‘None of your business,’ I sang, quickening my fingers.

He smirked again, ‘I bet you’ve made up this date,’ he said, putting finger quotation marks around the word.

I scowled again, ‘I haven’t, for your information. Now sod off.’

‘Is he in Ravenclaw?’




‘Slytherin? Don’t tell me you’re taking Al?’

‘Gross. And no.’

‘A Hufflepuff. It has to be. You wouldn’t betray the school, would you?’ he asked, with mock concern.

I snorted, ‘You betrayed the school, taking an enemy champion as well.’

He shrugged, ‘She’s hot. Now, what house is your date from?’

Well, I might as well make this imaginary guy dream-worthy, ‘I told you, none of them. He’s French.’

Aha! I smiled victoriously as the smirk danced right off his face, replaced by a frown, ‘You’re going with a Beauxbatons bloke?’

Eh, why not? ‘Damn straight, I am,’ I replied.

He opened his mouth in shock, ‘How dare you fraternize with the enemy? Go and cancel your filthy date and find some nice Hogwarts bloke instead!’ he ordered.

Sheesh, what was his problem? But this was an interesting response. True, my date is imaginary, but hey, let me have my fun. I’ll let future Halle deal with this shit. I’m not letting James Potter beat me again.

‘Hypocrite, much? Besides, I wouldn’t have the heart to cancel my date. He practically begged me after all; I wouldn’t want to let the bloke down after he sent me a dozen roses!’ I lied.

Hmm, this is not good at all. This is so going to bite me in the ass, hard.

But hey! I never get to have any fun. Why can’t I just win against James Potter once and then I’ll think of a solution for this problem. Elle will help.

Whatever emotion that was once playing on James’s face was gone, replaced with stoic indifference. ‘A dozen roses, eh? Having yourself your very own fairy tale aren’t you, Halle?’

I leaned across the table to reply, stopping only when our faces were inches apart. I could see the soft sprinkling of freckles spread out across his nose, so pale I didn’t even notice they were there. ‘Jealous?’ I smirked.

Before he could reply I was already out of my seat, making my way to the door as the sound of the bell rang throughout the classroom. I spared him a casual look and was extremely satisfied to see he looked thoroughly disgruntled, still sitting in his seat, apparently shell shocked.

I did a little happy dance once I was out of the classroom. I WON AGAINST JAMES FUCKING POTTER, BITCH. STEP BACK, I AM ON A ROOOOLL.

And then the situation crashed down on me. I just made up a completely fictional, French date to the Yule Ball which was in less than two weeks.

Cue mental breakdown in 3…




A/N: WASSSUP GUYS!? so ive taken procrastination to a whole new level, but the mabo decision is boring my brains out so i decided to upload a new chappie!

ooh. so what do you think? halle's gone and been an idiot in an attempt to impress the male race. WHAT CAN YOU DO? anyway i recently purchased a llama, and he is sad, but if you leave a review and wish upon a butterfly he will be happy! so review...


muhaha. thanks for reading lovely reviewers. tata!

Disclaimer: Nothing u recognize in this chappie belongs to be, including the wonderful imagination of JK rowling. i wonder if i gave her my llama she'd reconsider...

Chapter 18: Of Nutters and French House Elves
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Chapter 18: Of Nutters and French House Elves

‘You did what?’ screeched Dom, whacking me on the head and making my hair fly haphazardly. ‘Why are you such an idiot?!’

Silly me. I thought my friends would be supportive and wise throughout the blunder which is my life. Just goes to show, you can only trust inanimate objects like fluffy animals and pillows.

Alright, normal people trust fluffy animals, I phased out of those creatures when I turned five. It’s not that I hate them or anything, they’re just so fluffy.

It sickens me.

The only inanimate objects which I trust are the abnormally large pile of muggle contraptions which I have at home. Muggles are geniuses, I tell you. True, I have no idea what half of my contraptions actually do. And most of them have an apple on the back, Merlin knows why, but I tell you, one day, I will figure them out!

It’s a shame they circuit out and fizz electrically whenever I try to bring them onto the Hogwarts campus. I wish electronics would work here. I mean think about it. Electricity and magic, working together. Light bulbs instead of candles. Heaters instead of fireplaces. Communal microwaves.

Life would be heaven.

‘Will you stop looking in the air and concentrate?! Halle this is a serious problem!’ Dom yelled, shaking my shoulder brusquely and bopping her head crazily.

‘It’s not that bad,’ I huffed, looking to Elle for support. 

She just leaned against the wall, smile splayed across her lips; ‘You so fancy him.’

‘Who?’ I asked redundantly, already knowing the answer.


I sighed in defeat, not having the bravado in me to dismiss it anymore, ‘I really don’t, Elle.’

Dom wailed again, ‘How can you two be so calm about this?! Halle, you just made up a date to the Yule Ball. WHO ARE YOU GOING TO TAKE?’

Elle laughed, ‘I’m calm because this situation is bloody hilarious.’

I threw a fork at her, ‘I hate you.’

We were currently congregated in the kitchens, and judging by the falling darkness outside I’d guess it was around midnight. After I had made that stupid date up to win against James (so worth it) I had a mini-breakdown and ran hysterically to Elle.

She then laughed at my situation, told Jordin, who laughed some more and told me to meet her and Dom in the kitchens after school while she tried to brainstorm ideas for the situation.

Forever the Ravenclaw, that one.

We had been talking for who knows how long, me progressively growing less hysterical whilst Dom grew in the hysteria-factor. I’m pretty sure that soon I’ll be the one supporting her.

I exhaled deeply, ‘We can do this,’ I replied, grabbing Dom’s hand to stop it from shaking, ‘For Merlin’s sake, Dom, calm down.’

She sniffed, ‘I’m an overemotional Gryffindor and it’s my time of the month! Excuse me for being dramatic,’ she huffed.

Understanding flitted across our faces as we both patted her head, ‘That explains so much.’

Dom smiled, ‘I love being around girls! Every time I mention my monthlies to the guys, they run away, screaming.’

‘Jordin has a similar reaction,’ I noted.

‘Back on topic!’ Elle declared, ‘We have two problems. Number One: Halle making up a date to impress the boy she fancies.’

‘I don’t fancy him.’

‘SHUSH!’ came Elle’s reply, ‘And let me finish. Number Two: Connor is still dating that whore of a bag and Dom is currently dateless to the Yule Ball.’

Dom huffed, ‘Just remind me of it, why don’t you?’

‘And we have two solutions,’ Elle continued, ignoring all grumbles of protest from the two of us. ‘Get Halle a date from Beauxbatons, and get Connor to break up with Jessie and date you instead,’ she explained, pointing a finger between me and Dom.

I snorted, ‘Yes, because it’s that easy.’

Elle brightened, ‘Now that’s the spirit!’

Dom made vicious biting gestures, ‘We can’t all be in a fairy-tale relationship with Freddie fucking Weasley, Elle. I want to kill you for being so happy.’

At the mention of Freddie’s name, Elle put on a goofy grin, ‘Then kill me. At least I’ll die a martyr.’

‘Excuse me, missus,’ came a squeaky voice from down below, ‘But is there anything that Curtin can get you to make you slightly less miserable, missus?’

A smile immediately came to my face; it was none other than my favourite French house-elf, Curtin. I jumped off my stool and enveloped him in a hug, ‘Curtin! How goes it, elfie?’

Curtin stuttered and retracted from the hug, before hiding behind a stool, ‘Mistress Thomas is always so nice to Curtin. Curtin wonders whether Mistress Thomas is an angel in disguise,’ he said, his little elfin face completely red.

How can anyone not love house-elves? They’re adorable and their compliments make my day. ‘I don’t think I’m an angel in disguise, Curtin. But you never know,’ I said, winking.

‘Stop sexually harassing the house-elf Halle, and return to our brainstorming extravaganza!’ ordered Dom.

‘Hey Curtin?’ I asked, approaching the tiny elf once more, ‘Wanna join us?’

‘Curtin would be most pleased, Mistress Thomas!’ he squeaked, practically beaming from excitement, tentatively sitting on the stool next to Dom.

There were a few whispers from the other house-elves who were still cleaning various pots and pans. ‘Anyone else want to join us? We could always do with an extra brain!’ I offered.

The house-elves immediately scattered and started running into each other and various kitchen utensils, mainly squeaking out the words, ‘Not that’s fine!’ or ‘Mistress is too kind, too kind.’

I shrugged, ‘If you’re sure.’

 ‘I love your hat!’ Dom said, playing the shiny silver balls dangling off the yellow fedora which sat on Curtin’s head, ‘Are you the famous Curtin which Halle keeps on raving about?’

‘Compared to a Hogwarts Champion, a Weasley and the girlfriend of Freddie Weasley, Curtin doesn’t think he is famous at all.’

Elle giggled, ‘Girlfriend of Freddie Weasley. I like it. Hullo, Curtin, we have quite the situation.’

We then proceeded to launch into a frantic girl talk with a house-elf.

An elf that constantly brought us a steady flow of creamy, steamy, delicious pasta.

Merlin, I love that elf.

‘I see the dilemma, mistresses,’ said Curtin, scooping more pasta into my plastic box. 

‘Any thoughts as to who I could take, Curtin?’ I asked, wearily stabbing a mushroom.

‘Um, the thing is mistress,’ Curtin began muttering. ‘Ah. Let’s see. Curtin was thinking, no Curtin was knowing, that, er, mistress more pasta?’ he squeaked, shovelling more pasta into my box.

‘Woah! Calm down Curtin. I never thought I’d say this, but enough with the pasta!’ 

Dom snorted, ‘Never thought I’d see the day where Halle rejects food.’

I motioned to the pile of pasta which sat atop my container; its height easily came up to mid-stomach. ‘It’s like freaking Mt Everest here!’ I said, cowering in the shadow of the pasta-pile-of-doom.

‘Isn’t Mt Everest in Australia?’ asked Dom, ‘I’m pretty sure I climbed it on our holiday trip there a couple of years ago.’

Elle scoffed, ‘No you dolt. It’s in America.’

I banged my head on the table, ‘I’m surrounded by idiots. Everyone knows it’s in South America.’

‘Actually, missus,’ Curtin called, ‘I do believe that Mt Everest is in Nepal.’

Then there was an awkward moment when we realised a house-elf knew more about Muggle geography than us.

Curtin looked stricken at our sudden silence, ‘Mistresses I’m so sorry for pointing out your mistake! Bad Curtin, bad Curtin!’ he said, grabbing a (metal) fork and plunging it into his hand.

‘Stop that, Curtin!’ I ordered, before he attempted his violent fork stabbing routine for a second time. Merlin, house elves are overdramatic.

Once the fork had been safely removed, I levelled my gaze to the stuttering house elf, ‘You have got to stop doing that.’ 

He then bit his lip and started playing with the little silver balls hanging off his hat, ‘Can I tell you something, Mistresses?’ he asked, fidgeting slightly.

Dom’s expression softened, ‘Of course, Curtin. You can tell us anything.’

She was probably hoping for some juicy exposé about House-Elf rights.

He coughed uncomfortably, ‘Well, mistress you see. Curtin was cleaning the other day, in the Beauxbatons carriage, and he heard them saying that everyone in the whole school had already got a date,’ he mumbled.


That, ladies and gentlemen, was the sound of three, over-hormonal teenagers hitting the roof.

‘Don’t kill me!’ the poor little house-elf stuttered, cowering under the desk.

I began taking intense, relaxation breaths. In. Out. In. Out. Oh screw it, I’m doomed!

‘What am I going to do?’ I despaired, dropping my head back on the table, ‘Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck. Why did my guy have to be French? WHY WAS HE FRENCH?!’

Elle was patting my head, whilst Dom remained motionless. She had a cunning twinkle in her eye. It was enough for me to stop my teenage angst rant and stare at her, ‘Dominique Weasley.’

‘Yes?’ she replied.

‘Do you have a plan?’

This time she smiled, before turning her gaze on Curtin. ‘Halle, weren’t you telling me the other day that Curtin’s French?’


I blew at a dangling piece of air which had escaped my ponytail, frustratingly attempting to blow it back into place. Needless to say, I wasn’t successful.

‘Stop doing that to your hair,’ whispered Dom during History of Magic.

Fuck, I hate this class. For the past half an hour, I have been debating with myself on whether or not throwing a book through Professor Binns head would be a wise idea. I mean, he is a ghost; he wouldn’t be able to feel it anyway.

I wonder if ghosts get offended about these sorts of things.

I had already made elaborate notes on the Goblin War, as it has been Binn’s main topic for the past two freaking years. He knows we’ve already covered this topic. And yet he still makes us suffer.

Sadistic transparent bastard.

I stifled a snort as Dom collapsed onto her desk in boredom. She groaned as Connor and Jessie Kurt began playing tonsil tennis for all to see. I resisted the urge to vomit.

‘Get a room,’ James squawked from behind us, earning sniggers from around the classroom.

In a sudden burst of energy, Binns’ incorporeal form stood up a little straighter and glared at James, ‘Detention tonight, Mr Potter, for disrupting my class,’ he declared.

I stifled a snort. James’s jaw dropped to his desk, before he indignantly started rattling off excuses, ‘But I didn’t even do anything, sir. That’s totally unfair.’

Binns pointed an accusatory finger in his direction, ‘Do you call this doing nothing? I have no way of proving it was you, but goddamn Potter, I know it was you,’ he said, gesturing to the blackboard at the front of the class, which had been covered with a piece of white cloth.

With a wave of his hand the cloth came flying off, and the whole class erupted into laughter at what was scrawled crudely on its surface. In large, angry red letters, the words, THIS CLASS IS AS BORING AS FUCK, were written, in what looked like to be spray paint.

James chuckled slightly, ‘Oh yeah. I forgot about that. See you at five then,’ he said, giving a mock salute to Binns, as cool as a cucumber.  

Binns looked unimpressed by his cucumber levels of cool, ‘Report to Filch’s office at exactly five, Potter, or else there will be consequences.’

Binns returned the cloth to its original place and began droning on about goblin-knows-what, and I turned around to face James. ‘Good prank. I would give it… a seven out of ten.’

Freddie, who was sitting next to him, shook his head, ‘Nah. Only a six, I reckon. I mean, no one can actually see it unless you take the cloth off,’ he pointed out, in complete seriousness, as if this matter were life-and-death.

‘I’m sorry, Thomas, but do you know the name of the goblin who claimed that Godric Gryffindor stole his sword?’ Professor Binns asked obnoxiously, turning his transparent nose upward.

‘Ragnuk the First,’ I answered easily, turning around to face the front again. ‘The act is one of the conspiracies which were believed to begin various Goblin rebellions.’

Binns looked impressed, ‘Well, done, Mr Thomas. Five points to Ravenclaw!’

The class erupted into laughter and I let my jaw drop onto the table. Did he just? 






(Actually don’t do that, I’ll just end up calling rape.)

I narrowed my eyes angrily, opening my mouth to respond, but James beat me to it. ‘Actually, sir, she is a girl, although it is a common misconception,’ he explained through his laughter.

I turned around to face him, before thwacking him right in the forehead, ‘IT IS NOT A COMMON MISCONCEPTION! I’ll have you know never once before have I been mistaken for a man! NOT ONCE!’

Binns seemed unaffected by the entire classes’ fidgeting, ‘I apologize, Mr Thomas. Five points to Ravenclaw,’ he repeated in a monotonous voice.


Dom sighed melodramatically, but was grinning all the same, ‘Calm down you twat. Everyone knows you’re not a dude.’

I waved my arms in the direction of Binns, ‘Evidently he does not!’

James continued laughing, ‘Take the hint, Halle.’

I scowled as Binns just stood up there, as boring as usual, continuing to read off the piece of parchment that hovered in front of him. Without thinking, I picked up by book and let my half-hour contemplation flood to my brain. Aiming for his head, I threw the text book straight at his face and watched in glee as it passed straight through his mono-brow.


The class erupted into laughter again, Dom and James patting me victoriously on the back (well Dom was patting me. James kind of clapped me once so hard I felt like I would be shaking forever), when he raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

Really? Even the ghost can raise his eyebrow? Yeah, because that’s totally fair.

‘Detention, Mr Thomas. Five o’clock, Filch’s office.’



At five on the dot, I begrudgingly arrived at Filch’s office, where James was already waiting, a scowl plastered onto his face.

He nodded his head towards me in acknowledgment, ‘Nice throw.’

I grinned, ‘Got him right between the eyebrows.’

Behind the closed door of Filch’s office there was a loud clang, followed by a stream of curse words which would have made Salazar Slytherin blush.

Seconds later a red-faced Filch emerged, clutching Mrs Norris III in his grasp, not looking like he was going to let go anytime soon.

‘Silly cat, always trying to escape,’ he muttered, stroking Mrs Norris in a way that probably counts as animal-rape. 

‘Potter, Thomas,’ he spat, eyeing the pair of us suspiciously. ‘Why are you dating?’

I sputtered. What did he just say? 

‘Did you just ask why we were dating?’ I shrieked; scowling as James simply titled his head in amusement.

Filch narrowed his eyes at me, ‘No,’ he said, ‘I asked why are you waiting?’

James collapsed into a fit of silent laughter while I tried very hard to keep the colour of my cheeks to a neutral coffee-beige.

With my luck they were probably bright red by now.

Quickly trying to salvage what was left of my dignity, I nodded quickly, ‘Yes! Yes we are waiting, for our punishments,’ I said hastily, disregarding the fact that Potter was still laughing.

Filch grunted, ‘You both play Quidditch, correct?’

We both nodded. I’d been on the team for the last couple of years but I hadn’t played the game in ages because of the Tournament. 

‘Good,’ he snarled, ‘Ickle firsties need some training. Madame Bench is off on leave this fortnight, visiting her aunt Hooch in hospital, got a nasty case of the flu, she does. So, you get to coach ‘em,’ he ordered, waving his arms in the general direction of the Quidditch Pitch.

My features twisted into disdain, ‘BUT I DON’T WANT TO COACH SOME LITTLE BRATS FOR THE REST OF THE EVENING!’ I wanted to yell out. Instead, being the studious Ravenclaw I was, I just replied, ‘Yes, sir.’

James rolled his eyes, ‘Is that it, sir?’ he asked, with so much attitude I would’ve smacked him if I were his momma.

Which, you know, I’m not.

Filch scowled, ‘Yes, Potter, that’s it. And don’t think I’ll be letting you off this easy if you ever pull off another one of your pathetic shenanigans again,’ he warned, pointing a threatening finger in his direction. Mrs Norris then tried (and failed) to escape his vice-like grip, to no avail.

‘No, my baby,’ he cooed in her ear. ‘You’re not going anywhere.’

 James and I shared a very concerned glance, before Filch snarled and barked at us, ‘What are you still doing here? Those brats need coaching!’

Slightly alarmed, James and I skedaddled on out of there, heading towards the Quidditch Pitch.

Coaching First Years? Easy as pie.

Or so I thought.



omg im that douchey person that never updates arent i. ARENT I. ack. well i have quite a few more chapters written so i'll try to keep updates steady! plz review if you want i'll understand if you no longer feel obligated BECAUSE IM A TERRIBLE PERSON

fly free butterflies

Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me. unless i marry bill gates. you know his net worth is like 70 BILLION DOLLARS. I WANT 70 BILLIO DOLLARS. i also want a hyperbola to touch the x or y axis. JUST BECAUSE. 

Chapter 19: Of Nutters and Fight Club
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Chapter 19: Of Nutters and Flight Club

I’m fairly certain I’m going to die today. 

The events which lead to my death are too painful to talk about. So I’ll just act them out for you, in the form of a play.



Halle: ‘I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die.

A demon (also known as a first-year): ‘CAN I HAVE YOU AUTOGRAPH?!’ 

Halle: ‘Death is imminent.’

James: ‘For Merlin’s sake, Halle, stop having a mental breakdown and get up!’

Halle: ‘How am I meant to get up? These creatures are sitting on me.’ 

Another firstie/demon: ‘Why are you hugging that grey ball?’ 

Halle: ‘His name is Benny!’

Another demon/firstie: Is that the thing you got in the first task? I WANNA SEE!

Halle: Get lost, muther focker!


James: Shame on you, Halle. I’m extremely disappointed.

Halle: I hate you.

Another demon/firstie: ‘Are you and James dating? You’d make a super-hero couple!’  

Halle (louder): ‘O DEATH, PLEASE COME AND TAKE ME!’ 

A particularly stupid firstie: ‘Halle! Try some of my mud-pie!’ 

Halle: Pie? Well, it can’t be too bad. All pies are good, right?

That particularly stupid firstie: Yeah! Just have a little bit.




James looked at me desperately, trying to claw off two strong-willed girls, who were hooked around his legs, ‘JAMES!’ One of them yelled, ‘MY SISTER LOVES YOU!’

Help me,’ he mouthed.

Help yourself!’ I yelled back, rinsing the last of the mud from my mouth with a well-aimed Aguamenti charm.

‘Why did you just shove a piece of mud in my face?’ I shrieked at a red-haired boy, who was grinning devilishly.

‘Because,’ he replied. ‘You wanted a mud pie.’


Another girl –a bushy haired brunette– scoffed very loudly, ‘A mud pie. Duh.’

Some other firstie, this time a little blonde girl, made a hmphing sound, ‘Don’t talk to her like that! She’s the Hogwarts Champion!’

I smiled at the blonde firstie, before ruffling her hair, ‘I like you,’ I said.

She beamed, ‘Us Ravenclaws gotta stick together.’

The prissy little brunette scowled, ‘Oh it is on,’ she snarled, launching herself at the blonde Ravenclaw.

I was now witnessing two little firsties battle to the death.

And it was really funny. 

Is that a bad thing to say? Are you judging me? HOW DARE YOU?

I’d like you to watch two first years run around the Quidditch Pitch looking like headless chickens. It wasn’t like they were actually hurting each other; it was more like a very energized game of tag. 

I would’ve broken them up but there were three boy-firsties sitting on me, asking if I wanted another mud pie. 


One of my boys gasped, ‘JAMES! Halle said another bad word!’

Still trying to shake the girls off his leg, James simply growled in return, ‘I DON’T GIVE A SHIT!’

Finally victorious, he managed to claw the girls off his legs, before running forwards to hold back the attacking brunette, ‘LET ME AT HER! Hold my shit. HOLD MA SHIT!’ she yelled, taking off her bracelet and school tie, before handing them to James.

James shot me glance saying; did-she-just-say-what-I-think-she-said?

We both burst out into laughter.

‘Halle, are you ticklish?’ asked one the firsties, who was sitting on me.

I instantly froze. Alright, I can bluff my way through this. I am cool. Calm. Collected. I’ll just lie to the little firstie, and his stupid firstie mind will believe me.


Fuck my life.

In complete synchronisation, every first year moved their head towards me, all grinning evilly. Before I knew it, ten, screaming children were tickling every single part of me with could be tickled.

But I know what you’re thinking. James, being the chivalrous Gryffindor he is, comes to my rescue and we ride off into the sunset. Right?


He’s watching the whole scene with a vindictive little smirk on his face. His arms are crossed and he’s towering over me like he’s the Lord of Pies. 

With a banshee-esque yell I push all the firsties off me with my high level of strength.

Because I’m strong like a lion.

(Let’s just ignore the fact the combined weight of all those tiny first-years was about equivalent to a really fat owl.)

Growling, I turned to face my ten attackers, all of whom looked pretty petrified at seeing an outraged Ravenclaw/Quidditch Captain/Hogwarts Champion.

That’s right bitches, be scared.

Empowered with a new resolve, I pointed a menacing finger at the now silent first-years, ‘EVERYONE IN A LINE! ONE STRAIGHT LINE! DO IT NOW!’

Terrified, the firsties arranged themselves in a line. I turned around to look at James, who was lounging on the ground, watching me with intense amusement.

‘What’s the plan, Captain?’ he asked, lazily.

I shrugged frantically, ‘What do I do now?’

He smirked, ‘You’ve made it further than I could. You’re in charge now.’

I glared at him, since he obviously was going to be useless for the remaining hour. Sighing, I turned back again to face the firsties, an idea springing into my mind.

Putting my Angry-Halle façade back on, I walked across the front of the line. ‘Welcome to the first meeting of, Flight Club.’

The firsties stared at each other nervously, my fabulous Muggle-Movie reference lost on the poor souls. 

James, however, made an impressed sound from behind me, ‘I like where this is going.’


The firsties nodded. James laughed.


I was shell-shocked when they all looked at me with solemn faces. I was actually getting through to the little buggers.

‘THE THIRD RULE OF FLIGHT CLUB, You will not laugh if someone cannot do what you can do. Here, we are ALL EQUAL.’

One of the boys nodded so enthusiastically, I was surprised his head didn’t fall off.

I turned around and gave James an I-can’t-believe-this-is-working smile, and he pushed himself off the ground and stood next to me.

‘THE FOURTH RULE OF FLIGHT CLUB, you will listen to everything Halle and I have to say,’ he bellowed.

More nods. Nods are good.

‘AND THE FIFTH AND FINAL RULE OF FLIGHT CLUB,’ I yelled, feeling drunk on my power already. I was so tempted to yell out something like, ‘You must all be my slaves,’ or something useful like that. But, being the responsible Ravenclaw I was, I chose a more appropriate final rule.


Corny? Perhaps. But boy did those first-years look excited.


Carefully putting their brooms away, the firsties started leaving pitch once seven had come ‘round. 

‘That was a great practise,’ one of them said to us before they left. ‘When are we doing it again?’

The other nine firsties turned around as well, anxiously asking when the next meeting of Flight Club was happening.

James and I exchanged awkward glances, ‘You see guys, the thing is…’ he began, gesturing for me to continue.

I scowled at him, since he made me say the hard part. ‘There will be no other meeting of Flight Club. This was a one-time only thing. But, the rules still stand. What are the first two rules of Flight Club?’

‘DO NOT TALK ABOUT FLIGHT CLUB!’ they yelled back in unison.

I smiled, ‘Now get lost, flying-experts.’

Laughing and giggling and beaming with pride, the group of ten first-years which James and I had successfully turned into Flight Club ran back towards the castle, hoping to make it back for dinner.

I turned around to see James smiling at me, his teeth glowing in the falling darkness. ‘That was awesome,’ he congratulated. 

Why does he look so pretty when he smiles? 

FOCUS, HALLE, FOCUS! I think he just complimented you. Say something in return! 

His teeth are so shiny. 


‘Odontophobia is the fear of teeth,’ I blurted out in response, as always the epitome of cool.

He laughed, ‘I’m serious, Halle. I’ve never met a girl who actually watches Muggle movies. Let alone a girl who knows them so well she can quote them and turn them into disciplinary mechanisms for first-years,’ he said, taking a step closer to me.


I’m cool. As a cucumber. Totally not freaking out on the inside.


‘Well, Muggles have the best movies,’ I replied, alarmed when my legs took me a step closer to him, completely of their own volition.

Face. So. Pretty. Eyes. So. Swirly.

We were now only inches apart, and James was looking at me so intently, his gaze tearing into my eyes. 

Is it bad that I really want to kiss him? Like a lot?

The air around us seemed to fizzle with humidity, heat spreading to my cheeks as he reached out to brush a stray piece of hair from my face, gently tucking it behind my ear. ‘You have really pretty eyes,’ he said, somewhat dreamily.

Letting myself be swept into the very cliché moment, I leaned in slightly closer, our noses literally a hair-length apart, ‘Your face is nice to look at.’

Oi! Don’t judge me. The lack of distance between James and I had successfully turned my brain to goo, so excuse me if the best I could come up with was; your face is nice to look at.

Smiling, he wrapped an arm around my waist and leaned in closer, ‘I know.’

This was it. I was going to kiss James Sirius Potter and neither of us was under the influence of drugs or alcohol. Or Imperio’d or something.

Just as our lips were about to make contact, something happened which will forever piss the shit out of me.

There was an almighty CRASH.

Yes. A freaking CRASH.

But this was no normal CRASH. This CRASH was so deafening that it needs to be spelt in capital letters if it’s ever written down. This CRASH was so huge that it practically forced James and I apart, both of us springing away from each other as the CRASH reverberated through the Quidditch storeroom.

‘You have got to be fucking kidding me,’ James muttered, once the CRASH had died down so it merely left a resounding ringing throughout the room, ‘So close.’

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

And I knew at that moment, somewhere, a tumbleweed blew threw a desert.


Cheeks burning bright red, I turned around and found the culprit to the booming CRASH. The shelf which had been holding a whole bunch of old Quaffles had broken and fallen to the ground. 

‘Stupid loose screws, ruining my teenage hormonal moment,’ I muttered.

James chuckled slightly, before turning a barely-noticeable shade of pink, ‘It’s getting dark. We should probably head up to the castle,’ he suggested, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

I know what you’re thinking, it can’t be too awkward. Just knock him over and snog his brains out.

And trust me, I wanted to. But the moment had passed. And even James, with all his snogging-experience, probably couldn’t salvage this awkward situation.

This was disappointing. Very disappointing. And awkward. Did I mention the awkwardness?

‘You go on ahead,’ I squeaked, bending down to pick up Benny, who had fallen to the ground along with the other Quaffles. ‘I should probably clean up Benny,’ I said, gesturing to the now mud-covered grey ball, which I held in my hands.

Nodding once, he turned swiftly on his heel and walked away, leaving me with nothing but a muddy, magical ball.

Once he was out of earshot, I dropped my ass on the ground and burrowed my head in my arms, ‘What the fuck just happened?’ I moaned to no one in particular.

What does this mean? Does he like me? Do I like him? WHY IS BEING A TEENAGER SO CONFUSING?

My head in a whirl from hormone-induced thoughts, I absent-mindedly took out my wand, directing it straight at Benny.

Now, mind you, I was supposed to shoot a quick water charm, dousing my grey ball with water so that I could clean it.

But for some unfathomable reason, maybe it had something to do with James or the bitter cold of the night, I did something incredibly stupid.

Really stupid.


‘Incendio,’ I muttered, pointing my wand straight at Benny.

I realised my mistake a second too late.

Alarm bells ringing in my head, I threw the now-alight sphere on the ground, hoping the fire didn’t spread. Benny seemed to be burning with ferocity, the colour a blinding white as opposed to the regular orangey-yellow.

I just lit my magical ball on fire.


I started freaking out. Running around in pathetic little circles to calm my nerves, I watched in horror as an alarmingly excessive amount of smoke rose off my little ball.

‘SHIT. FUCK. MUFFINS. PIE. FUDGE. SHIT. DAMN. WHAT. THE. FUCK.’ I cursed, having to turn away due to the sheer brightness of the flame.

I started coughing as the smoke filled the enclosed space of the storeroom, ‘CHOKING. DYING. THIS IS WHAT DEATH FEELS LIKE!’ I yelled, doubling over in a coughing fit.

Focus, Halle. Life-or-death situation here. Stop being stupid and FIX IT!

Thank you, reasonable voice in my head.

Turning around to brave the fire, I quickly aimed my wand at what seemed to be the source of the smoke, since the light was too blinding to look at straight on. ‘AGUAMENTI!’ I yelled, satisfied when an enormous shot of water burst through the tip of my wand.

But, instead of extinguishing like it should have, the fire just continued burning. My eyes opened wide, and then I truly started to panic.

‘GET OUT! GOTTA GET OUT! GOTTA LEAVE! GOTTA LEAVE!’ I shouted, bolting towards the door and shutting it in a matter of seconds. Panting, I slumped against the closed door, afraid that the fire would spread and ruin the Quidditch Pitch.

What have I done?

Gathering my courage, I peeked through the window to see how bad the damage was. Biting my lip, I braced myself for burning furniture, smouldering papers and broomsticks gone haywire.

But there was nothing.

The office was fine. And so was Benny, if you disregarded the smoke slowly recoiling from his surface.

Relief washing over me like a tsunami, I threw myself inside to see whether I had died or something, and this was my sick, twisted version of heaven.

Nah. MY heaven would be made primarily out of chocolate pie.

Is there even such a thing?

If there’s not, I’ll invent it.


Gingerly stepping towards my precious grey ball, I nearly doubled over in shock at what lay at my feet.

Still smelling slightly of burnt copper, I realised in wonder that something new and different lay before me.

Despite the fact that it was just on fire, the ball was cool to the touch, and I turned it over reverently in my hands, afraid that it would turn to ash at any second.

Tracing the expertly mapped countries which now spanned my ball, I realised that the fire must have burnt through a layer of disguise. For, hidden beneath the dull, grey exterior, was something new entirely.

A globe.


‘ALBUS!’ I shrieked, running through the castle, the tips of my hair still smouldering and my cloak strongly smelling of smoke.

I needed to get to that gifted Slytherin, since he could help me figure out what I was meant to do from here. 

Clutching my newly-transformed globe closely to my chest, I nearly passed out from excitement when I saw a familiar head of messy, jet-black hair in front of me. Barrelling through a group of second years to make my target (‘Out of my way, commoners!’), I successfully pounced on my slippery friend.


Al let out an uncharacteristic chuckle, before turning around to face me head on.


‘Let me get this straight,’ James says, raising an amused eyebrow, ‘We nearly kiss, and the first person you tell is my brother? That concerns me.’


Swiftly pushing the globe under my shirt (successfully making me look like a pregnant woman), I contemplated how I could possibly have been put in Ravenclaw. ‘Cause honestly, I’m the stupidest person I know.

We both get up, to the amused looks of his Gryffindor friends. I’m tempted to flip them off but honestly, I’ve made a huge fool of myself.

My solution? 

Act like a crazy person.

It works every time.

James opened his mouth to speak again but I quickly intervened and put a finger on his lips, ‘Hush, disciple. You will never learn the way of the ninja through false accusations.’

The way of the ninja? Meh, might as well roll with it.

‘As you can see, my recent serenity trip to the mysterious falls of –er mystery– have impregnated me. I must consult my snake-like physician before the Jade Warrior returns on the solstice,’ I blabbered.

I am so weird.


Probably not.

James was stunned into silence, a mixture of amusement and pure disbelief on his face. Before he could say anything, I yelled out, ‘THE MOONSTONE HAS ALL THE ANSWERS!’ before turning on my heel and racing towards the dungeons.

Hastily removing the globe from under my shirt, I spared a glance to James, who looked as confused as a lost sheep.

But I couldn’t bring myself to care about my ninja-themed weirdness, and the awkward implementations it would have on me and James’ friendship/more-than-friendship or whatever, because I had finally spotted Al, the real Al, loitering around the Slytherin Common Room entrance.

‘Al,’ I breathed, running up to him, ‘I’ve got some big news.’

Immediately pushing me away from his friends, who were looking at me curiously, he entered the Common Room and led me to a fairly dark and isolated corner.

‘This hasn’t got something to do with a little grey ball, does it?’

Smiling, I removed the globe from behind my back, ‘It’s not a ball anymore, Al.’


It had been hours since the last seventh year had deserted the Slytherin Common Room for a warm bed, and yet Al and I were still there, pouring over Muggle geography books and marvelling the sudden transformation of Benny.

Still holding the ball like it was a diamond, Al asked (for the fiftieth time), ‘So you just set the ball on fire?’

‘By accident!’ I pointed out, hastily.

He waved a dismissive hand, ‘And that fire couldn’t be put out with water?’

I shrugged, ‘It couldn’t. I assumed it was a magical fire.’


I shook my head, ‘There was no dark magic involved.’

‘And this magical fire then burned through the exterior layer of the ball and uncovered a whole new layer,’ he confirmed, looking determinedly at the globe.

I nodded, ‘Seems about right. But a globe? Why a globe? Is this meant to be a clue? Or have we already figured it out? When you think about it, what is a globe, really?’

‘According to this Muggle dictionary,’ Al said. ‘It’s a spherical representation of the earth.’

I rolled my eyes, delicately tracing the outline of various continents, mentally willing the globe to give me some answers, ‘I know that. But what are we meant to do with it?’

He shrugged, before letting out a mammoth of a yawn, ‘I dunno, Halle. But I’m dead tired. We’ll work on this later, yeah?’ he asked, getting up and heading towards his dormitory.

I nodded, giving him a quick hug, ‘Yeah. Sure. Thanks, Al.’

Just as he was about to ascend the staircase, I gathered the courage I needed to ask the question I had wanted to ask him all night, ‘Al?’

He stopped and turned around, ‘Yeah?’

‘Would it be extremely horrible if I found out I didn’t hate James anymore?’ I asked, twiddling my thumbs and avoiding his eyes.

His figure dropped slightly. ‘What exactly are you saying, Halle?’

I shrugged again, instantly feeling nervous and shaky, ‘What if I recently found out that maybe I might like him?’

His eyes opened wide, ‘Like, like him?’

I coughed. Did I, as Al so maturely put it, like, like James?

Nah. At least, not yet anyway.

I shook my head quickly, ‘Just as a friend, I reckon.’

His jaw loosened marginally, and he gave me a faint smile, ‘I reckon that’ll be alright.’

Sighing in relief, I spun on my heel to return to the ‘Claw Common Room, when Al called out, ‘Halle?’

I turned around, ‘Yeah?’

‘When you fall for him, please be careful,’ he said, before turning away and disappearing up the staircase.

The fact that he had said ‘when you fall for him,’ really bothered me.

Shaking my head in confusion, I started ninja-travelling my way to the Common Room, taking extra care to avoid any Prefects who were snooping around.

James and I had an almost kiss. The key word being almost. That almighty CRASH in the Quidditch storeroom must’ve happened for a reason. Perhaps it was the universe’s way of telling me that it was a bad idea.

Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t realise I was heading straight in the direction of a wall.

‘FUCK!’ I yelled, rubbing my throbbing head, cursing my bad luck when a figure approached out of the shadows.

‘And what are you doing out of bed?’ bellowed a nearing Prefect, ‘I’ll have points deducted- wait, Halle? What are you doing here?’ 

I looked up. Of course. James.

‘I didn’t know you were a Prefect,’ I said, for the first time noticing the shiny, silver badge which was pinned onto his robes.

He shrugged, ‘Not something I like to publicize.’

I couldn’t help but grin, ‘Don’t want your bad-ass reputation to be ruined?’

He puffed out his chest a little, ‘Of course.’

I bit my lip. I wanted so badly to subtly mention our shenanigan from tonight, but I have no idea how to be subtle. So, I went for the blunt approach.

‘James?’ I asked quietly, ‘What happened tonight?’

He smiled slightly; you know those cute half-smiles which only guys can pull off? Yeah, it was one of those smiles.

Curse him.

‘Well, first we coached some bratty first-years, who turned out to be pretty alright. We successfully turned them into Flight Club, then we nearly kissed in the Quidditch storeroom, and then you attacked me and blurted out some shit about ninjas and Jade Warriors. What was that all about?’ he asked, cocking his head to the right.

Chuckling, I replied, ‘It’s my first response to awkward situations. Saying a whole bunch of crazy, nonsense shit.’

He laughed, ‘I would expect nothing less. Ninjas, though?’

‘Ninjas are cool.’

‘Halle, about the almost kiss-’ he began, but I held up my hand to stop him.

He was going to reject me. Say something stupid like ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’ Or, ‘I’m not looking for a serious relationship right now. Come back in April.’ He was Hogwarts’s Biggest Player, after all. And besides, I’d be betraying everyone. Al, Dom, Rose even Freddie had told me James was bad news in the boyfriend department. 

So, even though it hurt me more than it should’ve, I replied, ‘It was a mistake. Can we just forget about it?’

His expression didn’t waver, but the optimist inside of me saw a little emotion in his eyes. Regret? Sadness? A deep longing for pie?

Whatever the case, he took a couple of steps back and muttered, ‘Yeah. I was thinking the same thing.’

Practically drowning in the awkwardness, I turned to leave, ‘Aren’t you going to deduct any points?’ I asked jokingly, hoping to ease some of the tension.

He grinned, ‘5 points from Ravenclaw.’

I dropped my jaw, ‘I was joking!’

‘You are out after curfew. Be glad I didn’t give you a detention,’ he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

Rolling my eyes, I flipped him off. ‘You suck.’

‘I live to please.’

Just when I was nearly out of his earshot, I called out his name, ‘James?’

‘Yeah, Halle?’ came his faint reply.

‘We’re still friends, right?’

Even through the darkness, I could see the white of his smile. ‘Nah, we’re bros.’

I smiled. His response should’ve made me happy. He even incorporated an inside joke. And I love inside jokes. But it made me feel oddly empty. 

Even when travelling in ninja-style, my journey back to the Common Room had lost its spark of excitement. 

Because no matter how I tried, I couldn’t get that almost-kiss off my mind. 




i hope you enjoy! feel free to rate and review, AND DONT FORGET THAT IT WAS PI DAY WAS 25 DAYS AGO. CELEBRATE.




Disclaimer: Nothing you recognise belongs to me. Fight Club is a 20th century fox pictures movie, directed by David Flincher. if you havent seen it THEN WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU GO WATCH IT :)