Chapter 2 : A fan of my sarcasm
| ||Rating: Mature||Chapter Reviews: 1|
Background: Font color:
Here’s chapter one.
Enjoy. : )
Let’s just say that his present situation was a bit compromising. Or maybe more. The amount of discomfort felt would have been evident, had it been anyone else. But this was a different tale, a carefree, reckless, immature and – for lack of a better phrase – ‘you-only-live-once’ tale. And so he gave the impression that he had done this on a daily basis. AND perhaps he had. He isn’t just JAMES POTTER for no reason. There’s a story behind the legacy he lives. He had his grandfather’s name and reputation to live up to. And he made sure to keep that pledge true to himself and others too.
He awkwardly tried to shift his weight to achieve a more comfortable posture, which got him into a more painful position, if possible. But this did not falter his motive. He stayed where he was, his determination palpable. He knew his back would ache later; he knew better than to stress his quidditch muscles, given how fanatic he was about the affair known as the House Cup, but he was ready to pay the prize that awaited his forth coming glory. The sweet taste of victory fresh on his lips.
He was James Potter. He never took no for an answer. Failure was an unknown stranger in his kingdom.
He pressed the binoculars closer to his handsome face. Behave Isobel. A slow smile soon found its way. Fred Weasley and Mathew Anderson were on either side of him, they high five-d behind his back. He tried to rearrange his bundled over 6 feet 3 inch form, but to no avail. The bleacher above him in the quidditch stand still pierced his back. I followed his line of vision, but my lack of possessing an instrument like him was my disadvantage. That, however did not mean that I was unaware, I knew what Potter was up to. I knew the action I had to take against him. I wish I had my golden badge pinned to my chest, this would have been an appropriate moment to flaunt it.
Edward, along with some 5th, 6th and 7th year Slytherins had decided that it was a great day to go for a spin on their brooms. Edward being Edward had invited me along, blackmailing me with chocolates and the warm summer sun of a fine Saturday morning. Also, this time avoiding his puppy dog eyes was as challenging as ever. The stupid bloke can get whatever he wants with one look. How does he manage that? I have a good mind to ask him if he has been practicing it in front of a mirror. Because in all honesty, he probably has.
What I fail to understand is why he wants me that badly to attend these drills. I mean, half of Slytherin is scared of me because of my now dead in the grave, darling granny-NOT because I did anything bad to them- and the other half abhors me because they now support the good side and are not ‘conscious of blood status’ and think that I am. I wonder why I haven’t made to correct them. Oh yeah. Because my father may just kill me if I deny him the Dark Lord’s eminence and I’d like to live a little while we’re at it. Merlin knows why the sorting hat classified me a Gryffindor. Maybe it was drunk.
Oh wait. It’s a hat. It can’t be drunk. (Brightest witch of our age? I think not. Why was I given that badge again? )
Not to forget the fact that said broom spinning action is taking place at the break of dawn is no help either.
You know what else I fail to understand? How Potter never noticed me advance him.
Here I am, in all my finery, dressed in a pair of my comfiest shorts and one of Ed’s over-sized jersey (Yes. It was unlike my pureblood-self to be dressed as a ‘beggar’ but in my defense, Edward had promised me zero social interaction this early in the morning). Does this mean that his hatred for the green robes outnumbers his so called ‘love’ for me? Shame. I think that broke my heart a little.
Potter motioned his wand for the grand finale, and so I made an entrance.
Time for another show.
I crossed my arms and starting tapping my foot impatiently, smirk in place, one eyebrow raised questioningly. Typical Isobel.
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you. ’ I told him in an amused tone.
Oh dear badge, where are you? Need. Sense. Of. Authority.
The three of them jumped at the sound of my voice. They exchanged glances between each other before their eyes came to rest upon me.
Fred and Mathew, together with James formed the golden tri of our days. Just that there was no Voldemort to kill and their life’s mission was destroying the Slytherin reputation, not horcruxes.
A silly grin crept up Potter’s face at the revelation of my presence. Finally. ‘Hello love. Beautiful morning, isn’t it?’
He smirked. My eyes narrowed.
James ran a hand through his hair, Fred and Matt stood on either side of him.
‘So.’ There was a pause. ‘Would you believe us if I said we had nothing to do with it?’ He asked rather innocently still ruffling the hair at the back of his head, but I wasn’t one to fall in his trap.
I rolled my eyes.
‘Sure. And I’m the Queen of England.’ I replied back sarcastically.
Potter took a step forward. (Yes, he’s Potter now. The longer I refer to him as James, the more difficult it gets for me to restrain him. And I need all the control I can exercise if he plans to be in this close proximity to me. Again I ask you, dear old hat, why am I in Gryffindor? ) I held my head high regardless.
‘Well. I’ve always been a fan of your sarcasm.’ The silly grin was still intact. Its perfection annoyed me. I wanted to kiss it off his face. ‘And although you may not be the queen of England, you’re definitely the Queen of my heart.’ He replied cheerily, his grin wide as ever. Why he is in such high spirits at 6 in the morning is another thing I fail to understand. He took a step forward, his whole frame towering over me. I pushed him away, pressing my hand against his firm chest.
‘Save it. You’re in enough trouble already. You wouldn’t want more from me.’
‘I disagree. There’s a lot more I would want from you. ’ He replied suggestively.
I tried to restrain myself. My eyes diverted to Fred and Matt who oh-so-subtly tried stepping away from the scene, looking for an escape from my death glare.
‘The same goes for the two of you.’ I called after them over Potter’s shoulder.
Anderson had the decency to look somewhat ashamed at being caught, but Weasley chose the moment to open his big mouth and say,
‘I’m afraid I want nothing from you.’ A sly expression gracing his dark features, one that would hit the target and it had.
I only narrowed my eyes more in response and Potter’s thunderous laughter canceled any impact my glaring may have had. Matt smiled to himself, still having the decency to not burst out with hilarity.
He was the quite one amongst them, somewhat wise too. But that did not make him any less a player than Potter and Weasley, until dear Dom had him wrapped around her little finger. He’s caught in the palm of her hand. The three have been going around collecting hearts as if it was a hobby. Unaware that one-third of their little gang carried mine.
I continued to glare at Weasley, almost sure that my ears had smoke coming out of them by now. I pointed a decisive finger towards them.
‘You. Three. Follow me. NOW!’
‘Anywhere you say, love.’ The other two sniggered at Potter’s theatrical tone.
We made our way down to the ground where Ed and his mates were staring at each other. The first four players had set off on their broom, regretting their decision, given how the prank was now in action and the rest watched in horror, stepping away from their quidditch equipment. One player flew straight up at unimaginable speeds and came crashing down just as quickly, sporting what seemed to be a broken arm. I recognized him as Ivor Goyle. One player was still suspended in the air, his broom doing somersaults, and no one came to his aid afraid of what that might get them into. Looks like the sorting hat did a bad job with sorting them too. They could pass more easily for the Puffers. The suspended-in-air-boy’s (also known as Timothy Dean) traumatized screams filled the pitch. Another two were covered in boils, from head to toe and barely recognizable underneath said boils. One player was sporting rashes. Ed stood there scratching his head in confusion. So much for being a golden boy, huh. Al and Scorpius stood a little further behind him, also covered in rashes.
He looked somewhat thankful to see me approaching him. To my relief, he stood there unaffected by the charms that Potter, Weasley and Anderson had casted.
‘What’s up?’ I said in a carefree tone as I met up with Ed.
He gave an ‘are-you-seriously-asking-me-this?’ look.
I sighed and folded my arms across my chest once more, huffing a little at the scene before me, I racked my brain for counter spells, and my brain came up with nothing. I’d rather like to blame it on the fact that it was six in the morning; my brain isn’t very efficient at this hour of the day. I suddenly remembered the one for Goyle and Dean and their brooms halted mid-air, before they dropped to the ground.
‘You take them down to the hospital wing and I’ll take these idiots to McGonagall.’ I said, pointing to the three behind me.
Ed left to collect his mates and I turned to make my way back to the three Gryffindors in question, noticing Potter’s wand in mid air, directed toward Ed’s retreating back, his smirk intact once again.
‘SERIOUSLY POTTER?’ I bellowed at him. James was shocked out of his shell at the sound of my shriek, dropping his wand to the ground, turning a little pink. See, its times like these that I like to think that Potter actually has a heart in there that maybe, just maybe, belongs to me, seeing as I’m probably the only girl around whom he turns a little pink. But then again, what do I really know about how Potter is affected by the girls who walk the corridors of this castle, except for the little piece of information that he probably has snogged them all. But no one really mentioned him blushing in their presence. I think it’s time for me to stop with these monologues; given how my gaze is still fixed upon James, I’m glad it’s a glare.
Weasley tossed a galleon to Anderson. Wow. These two actually had time to fix up a bet during the twenty seconds I took to talk to Ed? That has to be some sort of record.
I disarmed them of their wands and starting walking out of the pitch to the Headmistress’s office. I had had enough. They followed suit this time without the obnoxious laughter and the innuendos. Hallway after another we made our way to the office, the boys suspiciously quiet the entire journey.
I whispered the password as we approached the statue covering the entrance to the office. It came to life immediately clearing an opening, revealing the staircase. Gingerly, I climbed the steps, the boys behind me. Still silent. This only meant danger; they were definitely up to something. It was starting to annoy me now.
As McGonagall came into view, she smiled witnessing me advance her, she had not yet changed out of her nightwear. She stretched an arm in front of her, gesturing for me to take her hand. I saw the concern in her eyes, the tenderness of a mother’s love. She worried what the matter had been for me to disturb her this early.
McGonagall was my role model in one way or another. She welcomed me with open arms when every student and even some teachers in this castle looked at me as if my existence was venomous. I didn’t blame them much; my ancestors’ history was enough justification. But she had faith in me, even when I had none in myself. She would congratulate me on my grades and prompt me ahead. She appreciated my efforts, my hard work, and that was the most support I’d ever gotten from an elderly figure.
‘Morning professor.’ I greeted her politely.
Her smiled disappeared as she noticed Potter, Weasley and Anderson climb into the office behind me.
A stern look greeted the professor’s aged visage.
‘It’s the second day of school and it’s a Saturday morning. And yet you three manage to land up in my office, escorted by the head girl?’
McGonagall’s gaze shifted to meet mine. I gave her an apologetic smile. She returned it. A knowing look was exchanged between student and professor.
‘I’m afraid you beat your grandfather, James.’
To the professor’s horror, James punched his fist in the air. And a scorning Weasley gave another galleon to a pleased Anderson. Guess our walk up here hasn’t been too quiet. I’m glad no innuendos were involved this time.
I gestured to leave the office, retracting my steps.
‘Miss Lestrange, I’m afraid I need you to stay. ’
I obeyed without objection, this came as a reflex action.
Now not so bored, yet sleep deprived, I occupied the first vacant seat I saw. I rested my chin against my palm in my seated position, oddly missing having popcorn with me. It’s always a show when an irate Minevra McGonagall has been woken up by a James Potter and co.
She averted her questioning gaze back to me, expecting a detailed report of the ‘accident’. I gave her what she wanted.
‘Well, Potter, Weasley and Anderson, I’m afraid it’ll pain you to know that you cannot use the pitch as a result of your morning shenanigans. And of course, each of you will serve a month’s detention, which may be subjected to change. ’
She then continued to mumble obscenities under her breath as she paced around in her office. The boys had conjured up seats to themselves too, not bothering much that McGonagall was fuming. So nice of us all to make ourselves at home, no? She soon reached for the floo of her office and whispered addresses into the fire. The boys eyes widened in realization.
Fred’s parents were the first to grace us with their presence, where the comical George Weasley, dressed in a yellow shirt and white pants, went to high five his son; the two men earned a slap on the head by Fred’s mother who soon started off with a string of profanities expressing her disappointment. Fred finally had the decency to look a bit shameful.
Next we heard a voice.
Next, a screech resonated around the office with the owner of the voice, sorry screech, nowhere in sight.
‘I’M GOING TO BLOODY KILL HIM! AND I MIGHT JUST KILL YOU IF YOU DON’T LET ME GO HARRY POTTER! ONE OF US SURELY NEEDS TO SET THAT SON OF OUR STRAIGHT!’
They said, ‘Hell has no fury like a Ginny Potter scorned.’
I say they said it all.
Much to our horror the red head soon stepped out of the fire, followed by the war hero himself, in all his glory, trying in vain to calm down his seething wife.
With the speed of lightening, Ginny Potter was at James side, grabbing him by the ear so that her too-tall-for-his-teenage-years son doubled over at one side as his mother used undeterminable amount of power in grabbing said ear causing the otherwise known to be very-manly-James to cry out in pain.
Most of her words were incoherent, in appreciation of her temper. All of us just exchanged uncomfortable glances which got me wondering why I stayed to witness this when I could be down at the hospital wing with Ed, checking up on him and the team and actually avoiding said uncomfortable-ness.
Did I mention I’m an awfully awkward person? I’m glad I can hide it well, just as now.
I hauled my train of thought as McGonagall’s frustrated voice fell onto my eardrums.
‘Now, Ginny.’ She began, taking in a deep breath and expecting Ginny Potter to act her age.
‘You asked for this dear, to be informed if any misbehavior of any magnitude was undertaken by James. There is no need to act so fiercely. I expect better of you at least. This was not that serious a matter for you to react this strongly. ’
Ginny Potter ceased her staring at the stone floor as her eyes snapped up at McGonagall’s words (Oh look, Potter has his mother’s eyes. Aww.), disbelief shinning through them. To which headmistress quickly added,
‘However I am NOT in any way in favour of this misconduct. These three will be punished accordingly.’
‘They should be, someone could have been seriously hurt.’ Ginny Potter huffed.
‘Two students did break their bones, I believe.’
I deadpanned, instantly regretting saying anything at all. One, because I wasn’t entirely sure who broke what bone-I had only observed the scene in a fleeting moment as I passed by the players and their surprised faces- and two because now all eyes were concentrated on me.
I fumbled with the end of my (read Ed’s) jersey, feeling slightly uncomfortable until the room broke out in jumbled conversations again.
Ginny Potter resumed scolding her son, Harry Potter tried in vain to calm down his irate wife, and Fred’s parents like me became observers of the scene too. All until McGonagall took charge again and commanded loudly:
‘Enough!’, bringing all the commotion to a halt. She took a deep breath and began reprimanding the chaos in the room.
As odd as my position in this situation was, I was enjoying McGonagall scolding two of her students. Well, an ex-student and a currently enrolled student. A moody looking Ginny Potter sat on her chair, slowly sinking further into it and crossing her arms over her chest rather childishly, in front of the headmistress’s with her son, followed closely by Fred Weasley and his parents.
One would expect headmistress to act fairly in screaming at ALL THREE of the culprits, but Ginny Potter seemed to be a more important issue to be addressed. Seriously, the woman needs anger management classes. Maybe I could give them to her, given how good I am at hiding my feelings. Merlin! I need to stop with these monologues!
Fred’s mother seemed to be more collected about the whole event chancing a death glare or two at her son every now and then, though wishing against adding any opinion verbally, whereas Fred’s father seemed skeptical, proud, in some twisted way. Looks like his fashion sense is not the only thing odd about him. Talking of attire, I wonder why McGonagall has not as yet commented on mine; I mean these shorts are a bit too short for such a setting, given my post and all. I think I should thank Ginny Potter for this, for attracting all the attention to her instead.
Harry Potter still stood by his wife’s side, trying to calm her down and failing miserably.
I finally realised how rude I looked occupying the seat I did. I vacated it to Mr. Potter, who gave me a polite smile, James resemblance to him stuck me like lightening, except the aforementioned eyes of course, Harry’s were bright green and so I took a second or two before returning his gesture with a slight nod.
I went to stand beside Mathew, the only person in the room who apart from me wasn’t seated, now that I realised it. I wondered where his parents were, I voiced my thoughts.
‘They died in the war. My mother was a muggle born, my father a muggle, and my aunt, my guardian, is least bothered about the abomination that caused her to lose her brother. ’
If possible, I felt even more awkward at Mathew’s revelation. Should’ve kept my mouth shut. Why couldn’t have Dom EVER mentioned this to me? The fact that Matt was an orphan. Really Dom, you are of no use.
I felt utterly out of place now, I thought of making small talk to Matt but then decided against it, what if he and Dom broke up last night? If they were no longer a thing and I stood here bonding with him, I would be breaking the best friend code, no bonding with the ex or something along those lines and clearly adding more to the pile of awkward that surrounded me right now. Dom and Rose are always going on about that stuff. I think it strange at times, the conditions. Plus, I never got a chance to meet Dom to ask how things went down between the two, so I pushed the idea away. I should have left when I had the chance and gone to check on the team, but NO, I had to vacate my seat and stand here to interrogate Matt. Great thinking, brain.
I shifted uncomfortably at my feet looking for a source of distraction, when the fire crackled catching the attention of everyone in the room as they wondered who would be expected to floo at this hour on a Saturday, also the second day of school, needless to say, when none other than Michael Kane stepped out of the flames, his bright blue eyes shining with amusement at the scene before him.
Previous Chapter Next Chapter
Other Similar Stories