“THEY ARE CALLED BUTTERFLIES, JESS,” shrieked Conner.
“NO,” I pout (I like to think adorably); “they are most defiantly flutterbies.”
We dawdled into the Great Hall and took our places at the Ravenclaw table. The first day of classes promised the hall to be full of bleary faces and confuzzled first years.
“Butterflies: Any of numerous diurnal insects of the order Lepidoptera, characterized by clubbed antennae, a slender body, and large, broad, often conspicuously marked wings,” smirked Conner.
What. The. Fuuuck?
“You are such a creep, Con Con, but anyway, my logic is impenetrable, they do not butter fly, they flutter by, do you see the logic?”
“THAT MAKES NO SEN-”
“Flutter by, Conner. Flutter. By.”
To demonstrate my cause I stood up and flapped my arms (I admit, a bit hazardously) around my head while jumping up and down. I then proceeded to reacquaint myself with the ground (watch out kids, it’s hard).
“You sure are one odd bird aren’t you, Collins?”
I looked up to see the handsome face of Freddy Weasley hovering over me.
I think that just came out of my mouth.
I looked over, bewildered, to Conner (possibly seeking, oh I don’t know, help or a knight in shining armour) only to find him practically drooling over Freddy.
Not that I could talk. Literally.
I found myself being hoisted up by none other than Freddy himself, who then proceeded to plop (that word always makes me laugh, sounds like poop) himself down on the seat next to us.
I think I’m suffering a brain malfunction.
Freddy munched happily away at his toast (crumbs flying everywhere, table manners much); ignorant toward the befuddled and looks Conner and myself were flinging towards him.
What. The. Actual. Fuuuuck?
“FLYING PONIES EXIST, OKAY?”
Sometimes, I wish I had a brain.
Conner cleared his throat awkwardly.
Oh here we go.
“What my dearest Jess is trying to say, or ask really, in the most least offensive way possible, is what you are doing, well obviously you’re sitting, but as for the reason behind the sitting where you are, we’re a bit more than befuddled as to why it is you are sitting where you are…uhhm sitting,” Conner dribbled of more than a little bit pathetically.
Conner always knows what to say.
Munch. Munch. Munch.
Well munch to you too, buddy.
“Well if one must know,” Freddy stated with a slight pout (I can see what James sees in him), “ones friends have left one to fend for oneself at breakfast, choosing inanimate objects such as beds or pillows over oneself. More importantly, the bread looked nicer on your table.”
I am so confused. OR SHOULD I SAY…
One cannot explain ones confuzzled state.
BAM. SHE WENT THERE.
In fact I was so there, danced there, flapped there and galumphed there and came back. And then ate some chocolate.
That’s how there I was.
My tummy gurgled loudly and do you know what I felt sloshing in my tummy?
NOTHING. NADA. ZERO. THE HERO.
EMERGENCY. EMERGENY. FOOD IS NOT OCCUPYING THE VICINTIY OF JESSES STOMACH.
I plopped (STILL FUNNY) myself down next to Freddy .
“THINE QUEST BEGINS, AS JESS THE BESS…T SCAVENGERS THROUGH THE WALL OF HOGWARTS IN SEARCH OF WHAT NATURE CALLS FOO-mmphhh.”
Freddy stuffed his piece of toast into my mouth, thus cutting of my (EPIC) speech.
DREAM CRUSHER, THINE NAME IS FREDDY.
“Hush child. You’re blathering is disrupting my flow of brain,” spoke the evil dream crusher.
“Aaaaand Freddy cuts off Jess in the middle of her epic battle for food. Has all hope been lost folks?” Cameron narrated.
UMMMM. OFFENSE TAKEN.
“WHAT BRAIN?” I blurted (through no fault of my own) out.
“Oooooo, and what a retaliation Jess serves back. What will happen next in the epic battle of the toast?”
Face. Freaking. Palm.
And so the walk to the first class began.
And yes, Freddy was awkwardly walking with us. But I had better things on my mind.
“GOODBYE FREEDOM. HELLO REPRESSION. I SHALL ESCAPE ONE DAY I SWEAR TO YOU ALL. LET US FIGHT. LET US UNITE. FOR FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDOM.”
And with an epic fist shake to the air (Breakfast Club style) I walked onward to Transfiguration.
BOO. FREAKING. YAH.
Though I may have punched a first year in the face with the fist shake.
Whatever. SACRIFICES MUST BE MADE.
“You are an odd bird, Jess m’dear,” stated Freddy quizzically.
I really should think before I say things out loud.
“Okay, well depart here, MUCH LIKE AN AIRPLANE,” Conner said as he turned to face me and placed his hands on my shoulders.
“Now what did I tell you not
to do in your first class of the year, Jess?”
Queue deep inhale.
“No pretending to breathe fire, no doing the freedom of rights speech, no galloping on my imaginary pet horse, no pretending to speak alien, no blowing in the teachers eyes to shut them up, no playing inspiration piano music on my desk, no whipping my hair back and forth aaaaaand no yelling RAPE in the middle of class.”
“You forgot one.”
“No licking the ground as an act of protest,” I ended grudgingly.
Freddy eyed me warily.
“I believe in you Jess. MAY THE FORCE BE WITH YOU.”
And with that, Herbology Con Con flew too. LIKE A G6.
Because he said he was an airplane.
I looked over to Freddy, who had just stated the previous command. He skipped (how very masculine) over to me and whispered into my ear, “I’ve always wanted to march to class.”
30 seconds later
Well if he insists.
“LEFT, LEFT, LEFT, RIGHT, LEFT.”
So onward we marched. ONWARD TO OUR DESTINY. LET US MARCH TO FREE-
I spun around and saluted to my Captain of about 37 seconds.
“It has been a pleasure serving with you, soldier. We’ve been through some good and bad times together. I will remember this forever.”
“SIR, YES, SIR.”
Freddy grinned an adorable lopsided grin to me and gestured towards the door.
I burst inside, flinging the door open behind me.
“HANDS UP, MOFO’S. JESS IS IN DA HOOD, AND YA’LL HOMIES BETTER BE PREPARED FOR WHAT COMING, A.K.A A SHITLOAD OF AWESOMNESS.”
“YOU,” I pointed to a random Griffy, “BUY ME A GIRAFFE.”
And with that, I moonwalked to my desk.
“I CLAIM THIS LAND AS MY OWWWWWWN. I AM METAPHORICALLY PEEING ON IT.”
And then I sat down.
What? Conner never said anything about GANGTA’S.
“WELL I AM METAPHORICALLY PEEING ON IT TOO.”
And Freddy plopped (IT WILL NEVER GET OLD) down beside me.
Well this is confuzzling.
I stroked my (AWESOME and not in the slightest imaginary) beard.
“What,” stroke, “are you,” stroke, “a-doing,” stroke, “here?”
“When one places their butt on a wooden bench, commonly known as a chair, for a long period of time, it is sometimes called sitting. Also, is your hand having spasms?” Freddy asked quizzically.
“NOT SPASMING, STROKING. STROKING MA BEARD. LIKE A WISE MAN. LIKE DUMBLEDORE. I AM STROKING MY DUMBLEDORE WISEMAN BEARD. JEALOUS?”
“YOU SHOULD BE.”
Now that’s cleared up.
“Excuse me,” came a voice from the corner.
“MOTHER FUCK, WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?” squealed Freddy.
“MY MOTHERS WOMB, NOW SHUT UP,” said the Professor of which name I am unfamiliar with.
But can I just say.
“Welcome to transfiguration N.E.W.T level. I will tell you now that I tolerate no crap. There will be so little crap that there’ll barely be any flowing out your butts. Consider this,” and he actually started flapping his arms around, “a crap free zone. DO YOU GET WHAT I’M SAYING? ARE YOU’RE PUNY BRAINS UNDERSTANDING THE SOUNDS COMING OUT OF MY LIPS? NOOOOOOOOOO CRAAAAAAAAAAAAA-”
“FUCK, THE DOOR WON’T OPEN.”
And in stumbled James.
Queue the crap.
Well at least it was handsome crap.
His hair was rumpled and his shirt was half tucked in with his tie loosely tugged around his forehead. He also only had one shoe on. Trust me, its uncomfortable.
“Sorry Professor, I ran into a goat on the way here.”
And with that, our new Transfiguration teacher sunk to the floor and started sobbing.
What? I get awkward in silences.
My outburst sure picked the Professor. We unfurled himself and crooked a finger at James.
“CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP,” he half sobbed, half roared.
“17 points from Gryffindor, and buy that lady a giraffe,” he said, still half sobbing, while gesturing vaguely to where I was sitting.
Sweet. I like this Professor.
“Bingo,” muttered Freddy underneath his breath, “THAT’S WHAT YOU GET FOR ABANDONING YOUR BROTHA FROM ANOTHA MOTHA,” he yelled, pointing an accusing finger at James and wiggling his hips for no apparent reasons.
James looked at us with like we were green piglets or something.
He warily made his way towards the only seat available. Which happened to be besides Freddy. Who happened to be besides me.
Gah. I can feel the hotness from here. It’s like the sun.
THE SUNLIGHT. IT BURNS. HISSSSSSSSSSSSS.
“Collins, how…surprising to see you here.”
“Well, technically, I’ve claimed this land as my own.”
claimed it, actually,” Freddy wiggled his eyebrows at me creepily.
“Ummm. Can I have claim on it too? Pretty please? With a Pumpkin Patsy on top?”
“Pee on the table,” I said.
“PEE ON IT, I TELL YOU.”
With that Freddy and I started pounding on the table and chanting.
When I looked over to James to see if I had broken him I saw him sobbing hysterically.
This is happening a lot today.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?”
Oh right. There was a Professor.
“Blaaaackmaill,” James blubbered, “they’re making me pee on the table Professor, I don’t want to, make them stop, tell them I don’t waaaaannnaa.”
He then proceeded to start rocking back and forth with his hands covering his ears while muttering, “don’t wanna pee, don’t wanna.”
I think we’ve crippled him.
“PEE ON THE FUCKING TABLE POTTER.”
That was the Professor.
30 minutes later
It is not safe to say the rest of the events that occurred in that lesson.
It is safe to say that James will never be the same. It will never be told what happened in the lesson, as many of the events will always be imprinted in all of our brains.
At the end, one of the students from Gryffindor stood up.
“WHADDYA WANT, TEWRP?”
“What’s your name?”
“What’s my name? WHAT’S MY NAME?”
And then he started cackling evilly. Maniac style.
So he is now named Professor Who.
The lesson was actually so weird that it made me seem normal.
Freddy leaned against me for support. “JESS, I’M SCARRED. DON’T LET ME GO BACK THERE ALONE.”
“UMM IF ANYONES SCARRED IT’S ME,” sobbed James from beside me.
“WE’RE ALL SCARRED. MY EYES. MY EYEEEEEEEEEEEEES,” I moaned.
I’ve always wanted to say that.
Conner was staring confuzzilingly.
“How was Transfiguration?”
And with that, all three of us crumpled to the ground sobbing.
Disclaimer: The Breakfast Club belongs to John Hughes and is produced by Ned Tanen and Michelle Manning . The song “Like a G6” because The Far East Movement got there first. Also I got the name “Professor Who” from Doctor Who. Even though Doctor Whos name is the Doctor.
Authors Note: HAAAAAAAAALO. So I freely admit to this chapter was actually insane. At some points I started wondering what the hell was going on, but my brain is messed up.
So she’s met the FREDSTER and JAMIE BOY. PROGRESS? I think so.
And how do you like Professor Who? I have no idea where in my brain I came up with him. Meh.
Favourite quotes? TEEEEELLLL MEEEEEE.
Pet the box. You know you want to.