Chapter 1 : Chelsea
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I’ve tweaked this chapter just a bit to fit the new challenge. Every chapter will be written from a different character’s point of view. I hope you like it.
A big thanks to !PINK @ TDA for the lovely chapter image!
“And then, I told him—”
I was sitting at the very the end of the Gryffindor table with Ivette. She had been excitedly detailing her entire trip to Italy step by step to me when she suddenly got distracted. I looked over my shoulder to see the Marauders as they entered the Great Hall, generating as much noise as possible in the process.
“I swear,” Ivette stated angrily, changing topics on the spot. “It’s like they think it’s their job to be loud and obnoxious.”
I nodded in agreement, “I know.”
The Marauders were the four most popular guys at Hogwarts. Individually, they were known as: James Potter, prankster extraordinaire; Sirius Black, Hogwarts’ biggest heartthrob; Remus Lupin, the bookish enigma; and Peter Pettigrew, their lackey—he wasn’t popular in the least, but he must have stalked the other three long enough that they eventually just decided to make him part of the group.
Ivette despised the entire lot for their abuse of the rules and their constant running amuck throughout the school.
“Someone should seriously put them in their place,” Ivette continued, officially distracted now.
I was glad for this. I absolutely abhorred her stories about the people she fooled and manipulated, and so on, and so on.
Ivette was the queen of manipulation. She could charm anyone to do just about anything. It’s true; I’ve seen her do it. It’s a little scary for me, though, because I’m the only one who seems to know how she does it, or that she even does it at all. It’s unnerving to see someone so self-assured and confident that they can literally do anything they want without getting in trouble. And she relishes in every single moment of it. She loves to ruin other people’s lives more than anything else in the world.
You may think I’m overreacting, but you don’t know Ivette the way I do.
Once she sets her sights on something, it’s hers.
It’s as simple as that.
Another great clamor entered the Great Hall as a voluptuous, bubbly blonde ran through the open doors, heading straight for the one and only Sirius Black, who was now sitting at the middle of the Gryffindor table along with the rest of the Marauders.
“Oh! I missed you so much!” She exclaimed the moment she reached him. He stood to greet her, like a proper gentleman, and she practically knocked him over, throwing herself at him and hugging him so tight I think he might have actually stopped breathing for a few seconds. She eventually let him go and kissed him on the cheek, only before completely changing her tune. “Where have you been?” she demanded. “I’ve been looking for you all over and this is the first time I’ve seen you since I boarded the train yesterday.”
The bubbly blonde suddenly wasn’t so bubbly anymore.
“How vulgar,” Ivette commented from across the table. “No man should ever have to answer to that tramp. Seriously, just look at her, Chels. She’s poor, pathetic, and an absolute prude. Look how uptight she is over not seeing him for one single day! Honestly! He’s a boy. He has a life. Does she really think the whole world revolves around their pitiful excuse for a relationship?”
I nodded again, unsure of how exactly to respond to this.
“Great,” she stated angrily. “That girl’s disgusting display of ownership over the poor sap just cost me my appetite,” she complained and pushed away her bowl of fruit salad.
I took one last bite of a chopped strawberry and then pushed away my own bowl as well, knowing I wasn’t allowed to eat now either.
Thanks a lot, Miss Bitchy Blond, I thought, annoyed. It’s bad enough being on a diet in the first place and now you just lost me my one chance to eat this morning when we have double Transfiguration in less than fifteen minutes.
“Oh, that girl makes me sick,” Ivette suddenly writhed; still watching the couple intently.
I looked over my other shoulder to see the girl making lovey-dovey faces at Sirius and cooing at the poor guy as she told him of her plans for the day, most of which included spending time with Sirius.
“I feel the same way,” I interjected lightly. “Someone should seriously put the poor girl out of her misery… or at least put him out of his…”
I glanced curiously over at Ivette. She had that look on her face. The one that said she was slowly forming a plan in that scary mind of hers. A plan to wreak havoc on Miss Blondie Blonde, no doubt.
“Who is that girl?” Ivette then asked, directing her attention back to me.
“Cadence Appleby,” I answered without hesitation. “She’s in Hufflepuff.”
Even though I’d been thinking of her as Blondie for the past few minutes, I knew her name, what house she belonged to, who her parents were, who she dated before Sirius, and practically everything else about her. She was an easy one to learn about because she had no qualms or secrets.
And, as Ivette’s best friend, it was my job to know these things.
She knew most of these things, too, but you couldn’t count on Ivette to remember everything about everyone in the entire school. No, it was her job to make the plans and it was my job to know everything there was to know about this school and everyone in it.
And if Ivette had a plan, Little Miss Sunshine wasn’t going to be making cooing noises at Sirius Black for very long.
You probably think I hate blondes or something with the way I keep talking about the poor girl. That’s absolutely not true though. I happen to be a blonde myself. But I’m a natural blond; Little Miss Sunshine over there is not. To be completely honest, I don’t even dislike her because she’s a peroxide blonde. I dislike her because she feels the need to talk to Sirius Black like he’s a baby and it’s making me want to throw up the small portion of my breakfast that I was able to eat.
“You’re planning something,” I said, smirking slightly at Ivette.
She glanced sideways at me and couldn’t help but send me a small grin of her own as she shook her head lightly, “You know, I am so sick of seeing Sirius Black skip from one girl to the next.”
I nodded, seriously. “Rumors say he’s slept with just about the entire current female population. Fifth year and up, of course; he has no interest in children. But as I said, it’s all rumors. From my research though, he hasn’t slept with even half of that. At the moment, I’d say he’s only been with somewhere between an eighth and a fourth of that. But that doesn’t mean he’s slept with all of them either. I’m sure some were harder to break than others.”
Ivette nodded thoughtfully as she took in what I was saying.
I’ve already said this, but let me make it a bit clearer.
As Ivette’s best friend, it was my job to know about everyone that went to this school. I’m not lying nor am I exaggerating when I say I have a mental profile for every single student who has ever walked these halls during our seven years here. You could say I’m Hogwarts’ very own walking encyclopedia. The Marauders were one of my specialties. I know practically everything about them and it’s not because I’m friends with them either. I don’t have any friends; except for Ivette, of course. But I am a great eavesdropper and from befriending Ivette I’ve learned well how to play to an audience and how to use others for my benefit.
Not only that but other students also consider me to be someone they can trust, Ivette says it’s because of my face.
Soon after we met in our first year she claimed that, “You just have one of those faces, Chelsea. You have this beautiful glow about you that’s just so warm and fresh, not to mention you’re extremely pretty, and people take confidence in people with faces like that.”
Not quite sure if her logic was correct, but whether or not what she said was right… she was right.
I always have people coming up to me looking for advice or looking for someone trustworthy enough to confess all of their problems to, as if it wasn’t the first time they had ever bothered to acknowledge my existence.
But I guess, sometimes, people just need someone new to talk to. You know, someone who’s not a friend and who won’t judge them…
It was awkward at first, and sometimes it can be rather annoying, especially when I’m in a bad mood or just plain busy, but I have become accustomed to receiving these confessions over the years. I’ve even succeeded in using some of the tactics I’ve learned from Ivette.
Yet, unlike Ivette, I tend to feel guilty for manipulating my fellow students, even though they don’t even know I’m manipulating them. I could never tell Ivette that though, she’d give me another lecture for sure. First, she would berate me for letting myself feel guilty about anything in the first place and then she’d tell me again that “we are doing these people a favor” and how “we are above them”, and so on, and I definitely did not want that.
Suddenly the bell rang.
It was time for Transfiguration.
As we stood up to leave the Great Hall, Ivette caught my hand, pulling me closer to her as we leisurely made our way to class. “I’ve got a wicked plan, Chels,” she claimed. “I think this might be my best one yet.”
I figured she just might be right about that once I saw that token, devious grin spread across her face.
“What is it?” I asked, almost too scared to do so. Thankfully, I’ve been dealing with these mixed emotions for so long that covering my fear with intrigue really wasn’t that difficult at all anymore.
“I think Mr. Black needs a nice little wake-up call. He goes through girls so fast and anyone could guess why…”
“Why?” I continued, knowing that was exactly what she wanted me to ask.
“Because he only dates nimrods like Little Miss Peroxide over there,” she answered, gleefully, leaning in even closer. “I think it’s time I showed him what a real woman is made of and once I make him mine, I’m going to make sure he stays that way, for the rest of the term at least.”
“And what happens when the term ends?” I asked, curious—and maybe a little bit terrified—to know.
“Well, by then I expect he’ll be madly in love with me and once school is over, I plan on dropping him flat on his face. He probably won’t date again after that for at least a year.”
She was probably right.
I almost felt bad for the poor fool.
He’s not even going to know what hit him.
“We’ll start tomorrow with the sabotage,” she declared. “By the end of the day I want Sirius’ puny little relationship with Little Miss Chipmunk to be over, and then we’ll be able to start on the real plan.”
I nodded, waiting for a specific order from her.
“I want you to find out when Little Miss Chubby Face is free tomorrow; we’ll set the bait then.”
“Got it,” I replied, quickly, with a slightly mischievous grin and just a tiny hint of enthusiasm to keep her satisfied.
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