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Wonderland by Jess the Enthusiast
Chapter 6 : Crazy
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 33

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The morning after my virgin eyes were scarred, I found myself sitting rather awkwardly at the kitchen table eating my Lucky Charms with a half-naked Freddy Weasley opposite me. Luckily for me (pun intended), aside from a salute in my general direction, he didn’t really acknowledge my presence; he was intently studying the back of the cereal box - which I cursed him internally for getting a hold of before me.

Begin rant in 3, 2, 1:

Seriously, what else was I supposed to do with myself while I ate? There weren’t many ceiling corners in the room to count and tallying the number of tiles on the floor would take too long. Due to this, I was left without anything to fixate on and this infuriated me. He thinks that he can just waltz into my part-time house and take the box of the sugary cereal my mum purchased for me and everything would be just peachy keen? Well, peachy keen, it is not! Didn’t he know that playing and solving the games and puzzles conveniently presented before me on the object that contained my meal is my morning ritual and without it, I am left thoroughly bored and restless? I mean, it’s not everyday that my mum goes out of her way to purchase me such delicacies as a sugary cereal in the likeness of Lucky Charms (which actually have games on the back unlike that healthy shit she usually buys). And here Freddy is; not even a regular member of this household and already hogging up the cereal box like he owns the place! I mean, the audacity of some people!

End rant.

Taking deep yoga/jedi/ninja breaths, I began counting backwards from ten in hopes that I would calm down to the point that I would not feel the need to state my rant aloud and scare the bejesus out of Freddy. Mission “Calm Spencer” accomplished and complete, I did not know what else to do with myself so I scanned the room while I chewed, trying to look anywhere but Freddy’s exposed torso and praying that he wouldn’t attempt to start a conversation with me. I mean, what do you say to someone who could have been a former primary school classmate of yours and is now shagging your mum? The answer to that, my friends, is nothing. Absolutely nothing. You just sit quietly and avoid all possibilities of eye contact. It is the only way.

This plan of action, although brilliant, did not last very long. As the minutes passed, I became increasingly bored and aggravated that I didn’t have anything to preoccupy me. I knew that it probably was in my (and the boy sitting before me’s) best interest to start doing my breathing exercises again but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. So I let out a loud sigh in frustration, dropping my spoon noisily into my bowl with a clang, and brought my attention to the bloke in front of me.

“Are you done with that yet?” I demanded crossly. I didn’t mean for the words to come out so hostile but my impatience was getting the best of me.

Freddy peaked over the top of the cereal box in order to look me properly in the eyes. “Done with what?”

My eyes narrowed into slits. “Done with reading the back of the box, you dumb twit! You’re not the only one that enjoys a good morning crossword puzzle or maze that leads to a pot of gold, you arsehole! I cannot function without my daily dose of ginger leprechaun!

I honestly do not have a good reason behind this sudden outburst; it came out of nowhere and made no sense even to me. I don’t even eat Lucky Charms for breakfast every morning! But it was too late to back down; I was already committed. So what if my mum’s boyfriend/shag-buddy thought that I was psychotic? It’s not like he and my mum will last and I’ll have to see him again once they enviably break up. (Because they will. Because being in a “relationship” with a bloke that much younger than you is creepy and gross and makes me want to rip off my skin. I have an issue with this association? What gave you that idea?)

Freddy and I continued to stare at one another; the look on his face was one of complete shock, confusion, and alarm. Yep, he definitely thought I was crazy. Freddy then, without breaking eye contact with me, flipped the cereal box around so the back cover was facing in my direction. Then, rather gingerly, he pushed the box forward with his index finger until the box was resting in front of me.

“Satisfied?” he asked carefully, most likely hoping not to set me off again.


Okay, so I kind of, sort of, maybe lied a little bit when I said that. Alright so that’s a lie too; I, like, really lied when I said that I was “exceptionally” satisfied. (What kind of fruit says “exceptionally” anyway?) Truth was, I didn’t feel the slightest bit satisfied.  At all. To be totally honest, I just felt ridiculous and kind of embarrassed at my impulsive, childish antics. I mean, at this point in my life, I have made the realization that I have the patience and attention span of five year old but must I act like one?

If there isn’t a God and Freddy and my mum somehow last, I’ll never be able to live this down.

I ducked my head behind the cereal box in attempt to hide my burning cheeks and avoid the eye contact that was growing more uncomfortable with each passing second. God, I’m such an idiot. How many more fucking stupid things do I have to do in order to learn my lesson?

Now having the Lucky Charms in my possession, I scanned the colorful cardboard for an activity that interested me and would preoccupy my mind for the time being. But I didn’t get very far because I heard a soft murmur come from Freddy’s direction that sounded something along the lines of “Crazy bint.”

Immediately I snapped my head up and smacked the box down, causing its contents of bland cereal mixed with the delicious sugar marshmallows (that made consumption worthwhile) to spill out on the table. The glare that followed could have burned holes into his skin. I knew that this probably wasn’t helping my No-Really-I’m-Not-Crazy-Just-A-Little-Bit-Odd Case but his comment, no matter how small, erupted something in me. He was the one who was sleeping with a woman twice his age; who was he to judge me?

What did you call me?” My voice was low and dangerous, my words articulate and crisp. If I wasn’t so angry, I probably would have been really excited by the dramatics it added to the situation.

But, alas, I was ready to spit fire.

Unfortunately, it became very clear to me that I’m not as intimidating as I’d like to think because Freddy, neither impressed nor scared by my tone, leaned forward, speaking slowly and articulately. “Crazy. Bint.”

My eyes narrowed. “Take it back,”

“No.” His expression mirrored mine as he returned my glare.

My teeth gritted together and my blood seethed due to the infuriating boy before me. “I said: Take. It. Back.”

Freddy smirked; both taunting and challenging me. “Make me.”

“I will,” I promised.

“You don’t have the balls to do anything,” he said, brushing off my words as nonsense.

“Sure I do, arse-munch.” I know that in the eyes of a well-built bloke, I didn’t look like much, as I lacked in the muscle department, but I meant business. I wasn’t going down without a fight; I was perfectly willing to pinch, bite, and scratch my way to victory.

“Oh, yeah?” he challenged, raising his eyebrows and looking me once over. “You seem more like a Hufflepuff to me than a Gryffindor.”

“I don’t know what the fuck that even means, but you are sure as hell going to take back what you said.”

“Like I said, make me.”

“And like I said, I will.”

“Then do it.”


“What are you waiting for?”

“I’m gonna do it.”

“Alright then, you do that.”


We sat there silently for a moment just staring into one another’s eyes as if the mere action would cause the other to burst into flames. Suddenly, without even thinking about it (because otherwise I would have registered the ridiculousness of the action), I threw myself across the table and at Freddy, knocking his chair over and sending the two of us to the floor.

“Take it back!” I screeched as I proceeded to slap him about the head and chest.

“Violence!” Freddy screamed as he put his hands up to shield his face; laughing as he did so.

Another clear example of how I’m not as intimidating as I’d like to think I am.

It really shouldn’t come to me as a surprise, though; I am only five feet tall and one hundred pounds after all. What else would I expect? Cowering to my powerful fits of rage? Girlish screams and desperate begging for mercy? Yeah, times like these really emphasize the fact that there are some drawbacks to being small.

However, I didn’t allow his lack of frightened response to my weak blows to discourage me and continued my aggression, muttering things like “Stupid dumb fuck,” and “Manwhore,” under my breath.

I suppose that my ranting mixed in with Freddy’s hysterical laughter created enough commotion to efficiently block out the sound of my mum descending down the stairs and entering the kitchen. Her presence wasn’t known until she addressed the both of us.

“What the hell is going on here?”

I immediately froze, looking up sheepishly at mum who was standing with her hands on her hips in the doorway and then back down at myself and Freddy on the floor.

Oh, wow, would you look at that; I’m straddling him.


Ten minutes later I was sitting sulkily on the couch in the living room having been banned from the kitchen for “attacking” Freddy. Honestly, I don’t think that it’s even physically possible for me to possess the power to have actually harmed him in any way and even dumb fuck Freddy fought in my defense, saying that we were only playing around. Apparently he and I are friends now. I wasn’t aware of or a part of the making of this decision but, again, apparently we are. I do not know how I feel about that.

Regardless of this newfound camaraderie, my mum was not pleased with me. I have to remind myself to not be discovered in particularly compromising positions with my mum’s boy toys in the future; it’ll save me a whole lot of trouble.

Suddenly hitting me that I was sitting upon the very sofa I found my mum and Freddy fornicating on the previous evening, I swiftly relocated myself to the leather chair across the room. Shuddering in horror as I settled my bum into the seat, I was instantly consumed by its godly squishiness and it didn’t take long for me to get comfy. My mind instantly veered from angry cougar mothers and annoying, though nicely tanned and built, blokes, thus clearing itself and sweeping a sense of tranquility over me.

And despite just coming off a whole eight hours worth of sleep, my eyes soon began to droop and I freely allowed unconsciousness to overpower me…

Falling into a rather foggy and vague dream, I looked around curiously at my faint surroundings which instantaneously became apparent to me as I took in the familiar hustle and bustle of the people around me. Wonderland.

Animated conversations buzzed all around me, sounding rather ghostly and distant to my ears as I was able to catch a few tail ends of muffled discussions that were recognizable to me. I had heard them already at my first visit.

One exchange spoke to me in particular:

“…Yeah, well Gryffindor may have won the Quidditch House Cup this year but once we get rid of that bloody Parkinson as captain, Slytherin’s gonna take the trophy…”


The scene at the platform immediately blurred, morphing the images and colors of my surroundings together before assembling itself into another memory before me.

“Your favorite color.” I more of demanded rather than asked.

James rolled his eyes. “Oh, c’mon, you can do much better than that; that’s such a lame question.”

I sighed. I’m not very creative, okay? “Just answer it, Potter.”

“Alright, alright. My favorite color’s red. Gryffindor red.”

Gryffindor red. His favorite color was Gryffindor red.

“Gryffindor?” My eyebrows knitted in confusion. “What’s that?”

“Oh, uh, nothing. Just, uh, just an inside joke I have with my brother.”

The scene shifted once again to earlier that morning in the kitchen with Freddy.

“Oh, yeah?” he challenged, raising his eyebrows and looking me once over. “You seem more like a Hufflepuff to me than a Gryffindor.”

Again. That word: Gryffindor.

Three times. I had heard that word before three times. And it wasn’t your everyday word; one that was able to weasel itself into daily conversation. No, it was obscure and meaningless to the likes of me. I had gone through seventeen years of my life never coming across it before and then I hear three times in the span of just a few days. The first time was supposed to be a dream. The second time was supposed to be an inside joke between two brothers. The third time was supposed to be a jab at my courage.


Evidently it was none of those things.

This all meant something; I just wasn’t sure what. Now that I had pieced everything together, I was left with an image that didn’t make sense. I had found the clues to the mystery, but had no idea what to do with what I had uncovered.


Wonderland was real; I knew that much. James had lied to me. And I wasn’t sure why.

I started to wonder about the secret platform. Who were all of those people? Why did they feel the need to conceal themselves from the public? How was I able to enter when I was clearly not a part of this strange world? And where did James and Freddy fit into all of this?


He had lied to me.


The dream was over. This was reality. There was no beautiful boy here to befuddle my thoughts with a stolen phone or bullshit story of a forgotten train ride together to King’s Cross station. No. There was something weird going on between platforms nine and ten.

And I was gonna find out what it is.

Suddenly awakening from my slumber with a jerk, I looked around the room to find myself in the armchair of the living room. It was as if I had woken up from a nightmare; my breathing was heavy and ragged, my body hot and sweaty. But I wasn’t afraid; I was far from it. In actuality, I was fascinated and perplexed amongst other things. There was a reason I referred to this place as Wonderland. I thought it was the most amazing place; all around curious and just…wonderful. Every time I thought about it, I found myself wanting to be a part of it. All of it.

Dream still fresh on my mind, I wondered why James had desperately wanted me to believe that we had met on the train rather than on this secret platform between nine and ten. And for a while, I had actually believed him. I had gotten so caught up in the idea that someone like James would want to see someone like me again, that I had completely disregarded the fact that I had no memory of our supposed meeting on the train to King’s Cross station. All I had to work with was an odd encounter that logically couldn’t have occurred. But it did. It was no dream. What is was, though, I had no clue.

I needed to get to the bottom of all this; to find out what really happened that day I met James Potter. Not those lies that were fed to me. I wasn’t exactly upset with him for lying to me – I really didn’t care. I just had to find out the truth.

With the intension of temporarily tucking away all thoughts of my epiphany, for lack of a better word, I rose from my seat in the living room and headed upstairs. Once on the second floor, I made my way to the small bathroom connected to my bedroom to splash some water on my heated face; I seriously needed to clear my mind and think about all of this later, some other time.

However, just as I was about to turn the faucet on, something about my reflection in the mirror caught my eye causing me to freeze in horror.

You have got to be kidding me.

On my forehead, a phrase was written in a very clear and neat fashion; the letters large, black, and in all-caps.


I squinted at it for a moment trying to rearrange the letters in my mind that appeared backwards to me to figure out the obvious message Freddy was attempting to convey to me. (Because my mum clearly didn’t write it). Suddenly it hit me.


I couldn’t believe it; he had actually written CRAZY BINT on my forehead. So much for the two of us being friends.

I gaped at the writing in absolute horror. I swear on kittens, chocolate, seashells, and Lucky Charms that I, Spencer Olive Lockwood am going to murder that boy. And it is going to be long, drawn out, and painful. He will be begging for mercy but there is no room for such luxuries in his upcoming death.

This better not have been written in Sharpie…

Desperately rubbing my forehead with two fingers that I drenched in warm water, the answer soon became very clear.

Yep, that’s definitely permanent ink.

Is it just me or was I just branded by my mum’s twenty year old boyfriend?



A/N Okay, I am SO sorry that it took me so long to submit this chapter; I am officially the biggest jerk on the planet so please feel free to burn me at the stake or chuck stones at me for my crimes. I'd also like to apologize for the lack of James in this chapter. A lot of you have been asking for him in your reviews and I'm sorry if this chapter was a disappointment. He WILL be in the next chapter, though, I swear! This chapter was kind of a filler (except for the ending) but I hope you liked it! What did you think of Spencer's "attack" on Freddy? Did he deserve it or not?

Please review! I get so excited every time I see a new one! :D


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