BASIL'S BLUDGER GOES BERSERK
Header Notes:
Alright, then. This is going to be my longest chapter ever. So, if you've got the attention span of a pixie, I suggest you store this chapter away for a day you have nothing very important or busy to do.
6:30 a.m.
18th September, Sunday
The Head Lounge
Current Activity: Watching the sand trickling down in the Hourglass
Word of the Day: Quidditch ( a jolly good profession, since Potter doesn't think so)
In which Puck misses his Third Feeler.
I was waiting for Lily in the Head Lounge (while she was dressing up in the Head Girl's Chamber), one of my eyes on the Hourglass, and the other on James Potter.
The lazy pile of crocodile shit was reclining on the soft yellow couch, reading The Daily Prophet and drinking a steaming cup of coffee. I wonder why it felt as if the Head Lounge wasn't Potter's official headquarters, but rather, his small countryside honeymoon-villa. There was a soft smile on his dastardly lips, which struck me as highly ominous.
"Good Morning, Lily," said Potter suddenly, as if he had seen Lily enter the Lounge, without even looking up from his newspaper.
"Good Morning," she said, taking a seat beside Potter and putting down a sheaf of papers on the table.
"You slept in late today," said Potter. "You're usually up much earlier than this. Were you very tired last night?"
"A bit," said Lily, avoiding Potter's eyes, which were back on her with their customary ferocity. "I was coaxing Puck to return Flitwick's walking stick, but Puck was very adamant. In the end, I had to threaten him with disownment."
"Sometimes, that Puck is more trouble than he's worth," said Potter, shaking his Paleolithic head.
Hmph. I doubt Potter would be satisfied even if I cut my heart out with a spoon and offered it to him on a silver platter.
Lily shrugged and said, "Maybe that's why I love him so much. He makes a lovely change in my otherwise boring life."
True. I'm pretty helpful that way.
Potter raised his bushy eyebrows, and gave Lily another of his mysterious, irritating smiles. "Coffee?" he asked.
He poured her a cup, and she held out her hand to take it, making sure their hands would not touch in the process. But they did; had he moved his at the last moment?
"I thought you didn't like the Daily Prophet much?" ventured Lily, when Potter had finally decided to return to his paper.
"I don't," said Potter, "It's a disgustingly prejudiced and over hyped newspaper, but it's not as if I have any other alternative. Times like these, you need to be aware of what's going on around you."
You know something, Reader? If Potter hadn't been such a rude and ugly pervert, he'd have made a very good Head Boy. At least, he'd become a tad more serious this year.
"Did you read about the wizard who killed his muggleborn wife under the Imperius curse?" asked Lily glumly.
"Yes," said Potter, a ruthless scowl on his face. "Even though I'm not entirely sure that Yaxley was under the Imperius curse and didn't kill his wife of his own accord, I can only say that I would never want to be in his place."
…About the wizard who killed his muggleborn wife under the Imperius curse…I would never want to be in his place….
So, Potter's quite sure he'll marry a pureblood? I knew he was just as blood-obsessed as the rest of them!
An ugly silence hung around in the air, which must have made Lily uneasy, for she was squirming in her seat.
"Did you get the invitation card to Ludo Bagman's celebratory brunch?" said Potter, pointing towards a ribbon-tied letter on the table.
"Yes," said Lily. "But he doesn't mention anywhere what's the party for. I mean, what's he celebrating about? Didn't he just lose a thousand galleons in the Gobstones Contest?"
"Well," said Potter, "the rumour-mill has it that Bagman's been selected as a Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps, one of the finest Quidditch teams of Europe. The Wasps have won the League eighteen times, you know."
"I wonder," said Lily. "Why did they pick a name like that for their team? Wasps…. Is it because they wish to be as hard-working as wasps or something?"
Oh boy, this girl cracks me up.
Potter chortled. "No, I'm sure they're not that hard-working! Why, they're famous for preparing just one night before the match and taking the cup anyway. Its just that one of their Beaters had once set a wasps' nest flying towards the opposing Chaser…I think it happened during their first match against the Appleby Arrows."
"Now that you mention it," said Lily, frowning, "I think I've heard Hestia talk about them. She said that the fans of the Wimbourne Wasps traditionally buzz loudly to distract opposing Chasers, when they're taking penalties."
Potter guffawed loudly. "Yeah, that's right."
"You want to be a Quidditch player too, don't you?" asked Lily, after a pause.
"I wanted to be a Quidditch player, but not anymore," said Potter. "I've decided to go for Auror training instead. There are some things more important in life than the thrill of a broomstick."
For example, abusing me and calling me names! Isn't that right, Potter?
"I want to join the Ministry, too," said Lily. "Dumbledore told me to try my hand at—"
"Research," completed Potter, and Lily looked up from her cup of coffee, surprised.
Honestly! Did Potter know every single damn thing about her?
"Yes," he said. "You'd make a good Unspeakable. You're clever, and logical, and you have a very keen sense of observation. You've lately developed this habit of running away from human company, and drowning yourself in work. You're also very aloof and reserved these days, so you'd definitely succeed in the Department of Mysteries... Considering you'll be a mystery yourself."
It hurts how correct Potter is. I hate agreeing with him.
Lily gasped and glowered at him. "Reserved? Aloof? Me? I—what?"
Potter shrugged, an act that he's very addicted to. "Everyone's noticed that you've become very quiet this past year. You are no longer as cheeky as you once were, you never laugh, and I don't think I've seen your smile reach your lovely eyes since a very long time. You can't deny it."
"You have no right to characterize me like that! Besides, what's it to you whether I smile or not?" said Lily in a disdainful voice. "It's no business of yours how I spend my time!"
"It is my business, whether you're happy nowadays or not. And it matters a lot to me, how you spend your time. More than you'll ever know."
There was a strange spark in his eyes, as he looked at her, and suddenly I was overcome with a desperate longing to rub my third feeler into action. Every time he looks at her like that, which is pretty often, I feel as if he's piling heaps of coal on my head. Obviously, Lily felt the same way too, because I could see her reddening up.
Oh, Merlin! I needed to know what was going through that Son of a Dementor's head. What lewd perverted thoughts, what vileness lurked in the rusty interiors of Potter's dilapidated brain….
Lily stood up hurriedly. "I'm leaving," she said. "My friends must be waiting for me for breakfast."
Potter said nothing. He was looking at her lips now.
This was nothing but torture. To see him look at her with his lecherous eyes…as if he wants to pounce on her and do things to her that I'd rather not think about…I've never been so humiliated in all my life!
Why the devil is my feeler not working?
Can you blame my poor girl rushing out of the Heads Chamber like a canary flees a Chimaera?
What am I talking about?
Potter is a Chimaera.
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7:30 a.m.
18th September, Sunday
The Gryffindor Common Room
Current Activity: Eyeing Jane's Voodoo Set with great distaste
Word of the Day: Occultism (i.e. wearing a Mummy's Mask while sleeping)
In which Puck remembers Merlin's maturity with a heavy heart.
I have yet to understand why a sweet, innocent girl like Jane Stebbins got involved in tampering with Necromancy. Necromancy—the art of awakening the Dead, and toying with their spirits—isn't meant for the good-hearted. So why has Jane developed such an enthusiasm for it?
Must be her ruddy brother.
I have still to recover from the terrible shock I got when he forced me to play Evil Dead with him. It was a nerve-racking experience. I had to pretend I was The Ghost of Gangeringaguamalestika and he pretended he was a Spirit Catcher and chased me all around Hogwarts with a garlic clover. Alright, alright, I'm young and energetic and swashbuckling, but that doesn't mean I like bumping into doors and windows and walls and stuff.
"Jane, when will you give up on your obsession with Occultism and death?" snapped Lily, looking exasperated and disgruntled.
"The day you go out with my brother," said Jane craftily.
So, never, then.
Lily ignored her and continued tracing letters upon her school robes with a quill. Now that looked suspiciously like a "J"…and that one like a "P"….Was that an "H.B."? Silly girl, hasn't she mastered her alphabet yet?
"I heard you got an invitation for Bagman's Celebratory Brunch," said Emmeline, taking a delicate bite into her toast. Now where did she hear that? Some boy's tongue, obviously.
"Yes," said Lily. "Its today, at eleven o' clock. Have you been invited as well?"
"No," said Emmeline. "I'm dating Petrov Sasha these days, who is currently not on friendly terms with Bagman. Petrov thinks Bagman cannot be serious about anything, and Bagman thinks Petrov is a bore. So Petrov hasn't been invited, even though he's in Hufflepuff too. It's a pity. I've heard Bagman's got a cute little birthmark on his nose. I wanted to check it out."
Right. Right. Just his nose, Vance the Vain?
Hestia erupted into a fit of giggles. "Ooh!" she said. "Lily, you're so lucky. A luncheon with Ludo Bagman, the Bid Bad Boy of Hogwarts." Giggle. Giggle.
Lily squirmed in her seat. "I won't be the only one there. And the sole reason why I've been invited is because I'm Head Girl—"
"So, James will be there as well?" asked Emmeline, her eyebrows shooting up. Jane too looked up from her collection of tarot cards.
"I suppose," said Lily, scowling. Then changing the topic immediately, she said, "Why do you keep calling Bagman the Big Bad Boy, Hestia?"
Hestia giggled again. "Oh, everyone calls him that, Lily! He is rather famous for his gambling and bets… and he's an extravagant spendthrift, but he's very rich and has such good taste! And he's tall and classy and—"
"Yeah, yeah," said Jane, irritated. "Find someone who cares, why don't you?"
Hestia lurched at Jane with her bottle of scarlet ink, and poured the contents over head.
"Girls!" admonished Lily, while Emmeline shook with helpless laughter.
"You ruined my Ghoul Statuettes!" cried Jane. "How am I ever going to talk to Merlin's spirit again?"
Are you there, Merlin?
It's me, Basil.
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8:30 a.m.
18th September, Sunday
Cooped up underneath Lily's bed, while Lily is having a bath
Current Activity: Reading a certain book
PAGE ELEVEN OF 'BE A MATCHMAKER' MANUAL
Henceforth, our team of Relationship Experts will be offering some innovative suggestions for you to try out on your subject, and to find a suitable match for her. We do not promise 100 per cent surety, but with each step, you'll be getting closer and closer to your goal.
SUGGESTION NUMBER 1: DAMSEL-IN- DISTRESS TRAIT
Manual: Has your subject ever held a position of authority?
Puck: Yes.
(Come on, she's been Prefect twice, and she is Head Girl, isn't she? I have a feeling she rather enjoys positions of authority.)
Manual:
If she's been in a position of authority more than once, it means she's in the habit of being the one in control. She's the one who drives relationships, and she is probably a bit bossy and domineering. Power often does that to a person.
We all know that most men can't stand a woman on top; it annoys them and displeases them, because it makes them feel insecure. They start believing that their girls don't need them, that their girls love their career and independence more than them. And that's not true, is it?
Men like their women to depend upon them for protection and comfort. This is called the classic Damsel-in-Distress Trait. Haven't you read in old romantic love stories how the maiden must always wait for her Knight or Prince Charming to come and rescue her? Haven't you read how the maiden must be a delicate little thing who is forced to bear pain for the sake of love, and must not kill the dragon even if she is a trained swordswoman and a brilliant sorceress? That era might be over today, but human nature remains the same, er, very deep down.
Now, it is also possible that your subject is tired of her dictatorial role, it's possible she seeks the thrill of being the one controlled. In any case, that's what most boys want, so you must teach her to be a bit less domineering and a bit more of a damsel-in-distress. Enough said.
Ways to do it:
#1) You could find her a match who's good at something she herself sucks at. This would be a good way to make her express her desire to learn, to the boy in question.
#2) Devise ways in which she's compelled to ask help from a boy. Such as carrying heavy loads, doing homework assignments, asking notes for bunked classes, reaching out for books in the library…Stuff, you know?
#3) Get her in detention with the boy you've chosen for her.
#4) Hide her wand when she needs it most.
#5) Be innovative. Think up new ideas, and write them to us if you do.
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9: 00 a.m.
18th September, Sunday
The Staircase leading to the Hogwarts Owlery
Current Activity: Wondering whether Lily will like what I'm going to do to her?
Word of the Moment: Damsel-in-distress (the girl who tumbles down a staircase into the arms of her beloved)
In which Puck realizes that Lily is hopelessly mundane in the Art of Love.
I don't suppose I've to expound what I just did.
I'd decided it was high time I gave Lily good practice on how to act like a woman of desire… This includes looking helpless, and pretty, and vulnerable…. Unlike the self-possessed, self-assured manner in which she carries herself.
So--
I gave Lily's shoulder a nice big shove, and my super-pixie strength sent her off balance, and she tumbled down the staircase, unto the feet of her handsome saviour.
Come ON, Lilykins! Act like a Damsel-in-Distress! I know you can do it, even you can do it! It's easy. All you have to do is pout and look delicate and woebegone….
Go on, moan a bit, and groan a little. Sob, Lily, sob, and your tears will melt the heart of your man….
Lily, you irritating, frustrating little MINX! He's helping you to your feet; he's supporting you as you stand, so why can't you pretend to faint in his arms?
"There now," said the boy, as my stupid, stupid Lily took hold of the banister (and not his arm) to steady herself, holding her bruised back gingerly.
"Are you alright?" he asked, bending down a bit, for he was an extremely tall fellow.
She looked up at him with a tight smile. "I'm fine, now. Thanks, Ludo."
Ludo? As in Ludo Bagman, the Big Bad Boy?
I took in his appearance through narrowed eyes. He had a very boyish, friendly face, with baby-blue eyes and huge limbs and a Quidditch League sweatshirt. All-in-all, he seemed very good-looking.
Not to mention, he was the only one in the vicinity who came forward to help Lily when I pushed her down the stairs. Now, if that doesn't signify good breeding and good manners, what does?
He smelt strongly of peppermint, no doubt due to the Droobles's Bubble Gum he was chomping.
"Did you get the invitation-card for my Celebratory Brunch?" he asked. "You'll be coming, won't you?
"Of course," said Lily. "Congratulations for making it to the Wasps."
"Thanks, Thanks," said Bagman, shaking the offered hand. "You know, I bet you use Jasmine & Cherry moisturizer on your hands; they smell heavenly. My mother uses it too"
Lily pulled her hands out of his grip, as if he'd burnt her. Bagman apparently had obviously not noticed her incredulous stare, for he went on rambling.
"I thought I saw you at the Quidditch World Cup this summer," said Bagman. "I bet you didn't like it, did you? I bet it's too rough a game for you."
"I didn't go to the World Cup," said Lily stiffly, and I rolled my eyes at her. "And I think Quidditch is a superb game."
"Do you?" asked Bagman, delighted. "Then we think alike here. What's in that bag anyway? I bet its books."
Lily's frown didn't bode too well with me. "It's a packet of Chocolate Frogs I'm sending to my Grandfather; he likes them a lot."
"Ah, what a thoughtful granddaughter you are!" said Ludo, and I decided he was a very amiable young man. "I bet he's a very lovable old man?"
"Yes," said Lily, smiling affectionately at the thought of her beloved Grandpa. "He's really cool."
"Oh, well," said Bagman. "I must hurry. I have to check the arrangements for today's party. Nice bumping into you Lily."
He had barely gone two steps, when he turned around and winked at me.
"You should be careful of that pixie, Lily. I bet he's up to something."
Who, me?
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10:00 a.m.
18th September, Sunday
The Owlery
Current Activity: Watching Lily tie the letter to an owl's claw, and allowing her to be angry with me for pushing her down the stairs
Word of the Day: Vindication (turning bad points into good ones)
In which Puck makes some deductions
I've been thinking about Ludo Bagman while Lily's taking her time in the Owlery, petting owls and cooing at them and stroking them and doing things she never does to me.
And I'm beginning to realize that Ludo makes a very good match for her. My reasons would be as follows:
He's a handsome boy. Excuse me, but if Emmeline thinks a boy is good-looking, it means he is good-looking. After all, she's never been caught snogging a Horklump, has she?
He has good manners, and was kind enough to help Lily up even if she didn't have sense enough to act like a damsel-in-distress.
He's been recruited by an international Quidditch team, which means he's going to be extremely rich. Now, I may be a gold-digger, but at least I'm practical.
He is a Quidditch Fan, who went to see the World Cup, and likes peppermint. He could be the Secret Admirer. And once he's rich, his kleptomania won't matter anymore, because then he'll be able to buy them at first glance.
He could easily recognize Lily's brand of moisturizer from his mother's habits, which means that he's a good son. It also means that he won't ever object to Lily's expenditures on cosmetics.
Its clear as daylight that he likes Lily and wouldn't mind dating her. If that isn't a plus point, what is?
OK, he likes gambling and placing bets on everything everyone does. But so what? It just means that he is brave and courageous, and is not afraid of taking risks. He likes adventure, and if he's rich enough to be a spendthrift, what's wrong with that? Life's to be enjoyed, innit? And haven't you heard? He who takes no risks can never take the leap to success. No pain, no gain.
Ludo Bagman, I've got my eye on you.
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11:00
a.m.
18th September, Sunday
The Hufflepuff Common Room
Current Activity: Mixing Firewhiskey in the Butterbeer
Word of the Day: Brunch ( a rabid bunch of partying teenagers)
Being the Head students gives you free access to the all the House Common Rooms and tea-parties of Hogwarts. Basically, this was the fifth celebratory feast that Lily and I had attended this week. Sure, it gave us the chance to enjoy turkey whoosh, and marshmallow dips and chocolate dumplings and every other kind of delicacy we could have possibly wished for. But it gets really tiring after a while. Shake so-and-so's hand a zillion times (and then practically forget his name!) and keep a poker-face expression or a dumb gormless smile all the time so that people don't take you to be an anti-social party-pooping Dungbomb.
Lily was the only one there who was wearing her school robes. The rest of them were wearing the flashiest, fanciest clothes, and looking oh-so-smug. For example, Barnabus Cuff was dressed like a Red Indian, complete with his tomahawk, headdress and war paints. Now, I'm not complaining, but I too had the desire of seeing Lily wear something other than those drabs. It'd have made such a nice change to see her dressed as a banshee or queen bee or something like that. Something that would have drawn the attention of Ludo Bagman towards her.
Did I mention that Potter had practically glued himself to her side for the past half-an-hour? He was in his casuals—a gaudy orange T-shirt (that was making my eyes all blurry) and a pair of jeans. At least he had the decency not to come wearing a tent! I suppose I'll have to give him that.
I don't think Lily minded much about her appearance, even though I could see that she felt very out of place amongst this randy bunch of Hufflepuffs. Potter and she were the only two Gryffindors there, so naturally they were keeping each other company. Or so I tried to console myself.
As long as Professor Sprout was around, Potter wouldn't have dared to attempt anything dirty with Lily.
Was that Amos Diggory I just saw in that Penguin's dress? What is he, the best-looking loser of Hogwarts?
Lily: Puck, what are you doing out there by the sofa?
Erm, I'm spying on Dedalus Diggle, you know? The boy with the green hair who is Joe Stebbins's best friend, remember? He's snogging Diggory's girlfriend…. No wonder Diggory looked so downcast. Well, I really can't blame Daphne for choosing a Parrot over a Penguin. At least, Parrots are more colourful.
Professor Sprout: What a dear little thing your Puck is, Lily! Did you have to train him?
Lily (with a smile): No, he's a natural. You really shouldn't have complimented him though, Professor. Now he'll go strutting around the castle all week, showing-off.
Now I know what Potter felt like each time Lily threw her loaded insults at him. In public, too!
Potter must have been thinking along the same lines, because he had a most curious grimace on his face.
Professor Sprout: I'm sure you'll keep him under control, Lily…. Oh, I see Professor Sinistra is finally here! If you'll excuse me, Lily, James—
Oh, dear, Sprout's moved away. I must be on my guard; any minute now, Potter's going to move his mouth—
Lily: You know, I'm not exactly enjoying this party, but I'm not sorry I came. It's good to see that Ludo could manage it so well, and all on his own too. He's finally developed a sense of responsibility, I think.
Potter (with a snort): If I'd hosted a similar party, you'd have called me an arrogant jerk.
True.
Lily: Come on, that's not true. If I have—
Potter: It's OK. It's OK, Lily. You don't have to apologize. I know I've been a moron.
What is this, Potter? A confession? Make-a-saint-out-of-me Mission?
Lily: Not anymore. Not anymore. You've changed, James.
Funny. I didn't notice that.
Potter: You noticed that, did you?
Lily: Everyone's noticed, James.
He was now staring at her openly, for every second of every minute. I hated those eyes of his. They looked transparent, but they seemed to hide too many secrets. And to think that he had 26 Fan Cubs to his name!
Mmm.… Yummy. This chocolate mousse is delicious… Mmm…. Mmm….
Potter: I didn't get the chance to apologize for hitting Elphias Doge the other day… It's just that I can't tolerate anyone taking liberties that—
Oh that's rich, coming from him.
Lily: Please don't apologize; it's fine…. You did the right thing, now that I think about it. I've tried telling him off so many times, but he refuses to accept that we're over. He keeps saying that he wants me back—
Potter: Can't blame him for that.
What? What was that he just muttered? Why is Lily all red?
Oh, damn! I've got mousse in my ear… Splashing about in a bowl of mousse can do that to you. No wonder I can't hear clearly.
I was poking a finger in my ear to clear it, when I realized that my legs were stuck to the basin.
Egad! I'm not able to move! Lily, love, I'm stuck in the mousse. Over here, over here. No, no, not to your left, to you right… Lily, is your meringue more interesting than me? Don't you have any sympathy for my paralysis? DROP THAT SPOON RIGHT NOW!
Sigh.
She didn't hear me. Without my feeler, I'm nothing. She's far too engrossed in food to care about my precious soul. Boo Hoo!
Potter: You've got something on your chin, Lily.
She does? Oh. There's a stain of chocolate there… Oh, bless my beard! This spells only doom. Puck, buck up! Move your legs before it's too late!
But all in vain.
With an ominous misgiving, I saw Potter shift closer to Lily. I saw him smile at her, and I saw him swipe off the smear, and I saw Lily stand there motionless under his touch.
AAAARGH!
I swear his hands lingered there more than necessary.
Now he's going to boast all over the school that he touched Lily, that Lily Evans is easy.
As if my legs were just waiting for Potter to fulfill his darkest fantasies, they broke free a second later, and I emerged, huffing and panting, like I'd just run a marathon.
Thankfully for Potter, Bagman arrived just then, and I had to reign in my temper. I don't want to scare away Bagman after all.
Ludo: Enjoying the party, Lily? Potter?
Lily smiled, still looking red, but Potter only gave a curt nod.
Ludo to his friend Rodney Pontner: I bet they're feeling downright lonely here, the only two Gryffindors amongst us.
Pontner: So, Potter? Are you sad that you weren't chosen for The Wimbourne Wasps yourself?
Potter: Not at all. I prefer Puddlemere United any day.
All losers do, Potter. All losers do.
Bagman: Ah, the grapes are sour. But never mind, Puddlemere's not a bad team. They just don't pay too much.
Pontner: Speaking of payments, you still haven't returned my ten galleons, Ludo.
Bagman: All in good time, Rodney, have patience… I've sent a letter to my Dad, he'll be sending the money as soon as possible…. My father's very excited about the whole thing, but it's understandable. You see, the Wasps will be paying me 1000 galleons per week, and I bet that's more than my father has ever earned in his entire career as an Unspeakable.
Oh. So Bagman's father is an Unspeakable? That's a good sign. Old Mr. Bagman can prove a useful tool for Lily's entry into the Department of Mysteries. The more I learn about Ludo, the more I begin to think that he's the perfect mate for my Lily.
Potter and Lily were very quiet. They were obviously very intrigued by Bagman, just like I was.
Pontner: Hey Ludo! Wanna bet something? I think that your dad did a jig on the dining-table when he learnt of your selection for the Wasps, and that's how he broke his leg.
What an interesting bet!
Bagman: Five galleons that he broke his leg because a Hippogriff stepped on it.
Lily (looking scandalized): You can't bet on your father like that! Do you have any idea how silly your bet sounds?
Already so soon, she was back into the Head Girl mode.
Pontner: No worries, Lilykins. The sillier the bets are, the more entertaining they are. Don't you think so Potter?
Potter: Oh, absolutely.
See, Lily? Even Potter agrees.
Bagman: Why are you looking so grumpy, Potter? Are you in jitters about the next Quidditch match? I bet you're really scared, now that you know what a classy Quidditch player I am.
Potter: I'm scared for you Bagman, not for myself. I'm scared that you'll lose. You see, I've full faith in the Gryffindor team, and they've never lost me a match yet.
Bagman: Then prepare to eat your own words, Potter. Because I bet we Hufflepuffs are going to win the Quidditch Cup this year. My last year.
Pontner: Say! Why don't we hold a phoney Quidditch match tomorrow. You know, just for practice. To see who wins and who loses...to see whether we are justified in our belief in our own Quidditch Team?
Lily (ever the spoilsport): I don't think that's such a good idea—
Bagman: So Potter? Do you accept the challenge? My Hufflepuff team vs. your Gryffindor team. Tomorrow, early morning, at 6 a.m. sharp, before classes start?
Potter (without hesitating): Deal. But if your team loses, you'll give us Gryffindors a free lunch at the Three Broomsticks.
Bagman: And if Gryffindor loses, you'll do the same for us Hufflepuffs.
Potter: Suits me fine.
Bagman: Lily, would you like to be the witness of this contract?
Lily: Er, no. It's OK. I'm not much of a Sports buff—
Potter: Leave her out of this, Bagman… Lily wants to chicken out.
Lily (with her eyebrows shooting up to make a steep "V"): I accept.
Potter (with a smirk): You do? You accept that you're a chicken?
The Hufflepuffs who had gathered around us roared with laughter.
Pfft. Potter.
I heard Pontner shouting to the room in general. "Who wants to bet 25 galleons that Potter's going to lose?
Puck's going to take that bet.
Puck's going to make sure that Bagman wins, and Potter loses.
Puck's going to make sure that Lily chooses Ludo Bagman over James Potter.
And Puck wants to be there when Bagman routs Potter into a pukey pulp.
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Nightfall, Gryffindor Girls' Dormitory
Current Activity: Watching Lily play Voodoo with Jane and Hestia
Word of the Day: Séance (Letting loose your hair and shrieking like a mad woman)
In which Puck is hit by a Zombie.
Lily and the other Gryffindor girls of seventh year (Emmeline, Hestia and Jane) have always shared a very unique bond of friendship. They aren't very close, but they can still fight like cats-and-dogs and forgive each other readily the very next day. They aren't always sticking to each other like wads of chewing gum, but they still have a very comfortable rapport with each other. It's a good thing, such comradeship, especially with a war looming large over their heads.
However, that doesn't mean that Jane Stebbins can force Lily and Hestia into playing a game of Voodoo with her in the middle of the night. I mean, where's the fun or the logic in disturbing my beauty sleep and frightening me with tales of bloodthirsty vampires?
Jane (with her brown hair dishevelled and black paint covering her face) is currently glaring at Lily, because Lily refuses to take part in re-awakening the dead. Hestia, on the other hand, is looking between Jane and Lily as if a Ping-Pong match is going on.
Jane: Come on, Lily. This is a chance in a lifetime…to be able to talk to the sacred spirit of Merlin.
Lily: Oh, for goodness's sake, Jane! It's just a silly game. Its inventor was convicted thrice on charges of fraud. It won't even help you to talk to your brother downstairs, forget Merlin!
Jane: It's not a silly game! Joe has tried it out with his friends, and he says he talked to the Nameless Ninny of Nankein. He wouldn't lie to me, would he?
Umm….Let's think. Oh, yes, he would. Considering his friends include Dedalus Diggle, his Tabby cat and the school owls.
Lily rolled her eyes, and took up the feathery little black pom-pom lying on the ground.
Lily: I'm not going to wave that pom-pom thing over your head like a bloody cheerleader as you chant your stupid verses! Why can't Emmeline do this sort of thing? She has had much more experience than me.
Jane:Emmeline's gone to talk with James about the theft of her jewels. And I need two people to wave the pom-poms!
Lily (frowning): Emmeline's jewels were stolen? Why didn't she come to me? Why to James Potter?
Hestia (shrugging): I dunno, Lily. But she's already lost three pairs of earrings, her set of silver bracelets, and her entire batch of rings. She was really upset, you know. You weren't there at the time, so I suppose that's why she went to find James….
This is really depressing news, looking towards Emmeline's side of the room. Her casket of jewels was by her dressing table, waiting innocently to be stolen. Who could do such a dastardly thing? Lily's secret admirer? But how? He seemed such a nice person; could his kleptomania be so redundant? Was he so embedded in his disease?
Jane: Lily, I'm talking to you! Our time is precious. We cannot let this auspicious moment slip us by! Can't you do it just this once, for my sake?
Lily looked woefully towards Jane, and I could see her visibly relenting.
Lily: Fine. But I'm not going to chant "Ha-ha Haasha Pasha" or anything like that—
Jane (with a scandalized expression on her face): It's not "Ha-ha Haasha Pasha"… It's "Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa". And it's integral to the séance! You MUST chant it as I read out the Voodoo Verses. Or the séance will be a dud, and I will never forgive you. Why, the chants are supposed to tell the Dead that they are still very much remembered and—
Lily: Alright, ALRIGHT! Hestia and I will wave the pom-poms, we will chant "Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa" and we will try to awaken Merlin's spirit. But if that doesn't happen, and the game turns out to be a hoax, I will confiscate all your Voodoo and Hoodoo and Occult stuff, and you will NEVER organize a séance again. Got it?
Jane (with a defiant sneer, and a loud gulp): Deal!
And so, here I am, watching a rather deranged Jane and the pom-poms swishing and swaying, and I'm trying to block my ears to the blaring chants of Lily and Hestia.
Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa.
Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa.
Jane:
ARISE, O' SLEEPING ONE, FROM YOUR CRYPTS. SPEAK TO ME, SPEAK TO ME.
ARISE. ARISE. WAKE UP AND OPEN THINE EYES TO THY FOLLOWERS. COME
FLYING TO US, FLYING, FLYING, FLYING ACROSS THE EIGHTY THOUSAND AND
TWENTY ONE SEAS, ACROSS THE LAND OF KOOKABURRAS AND KAPPAKANS, ACROSS
THE REALM OF RORUKAS AND RAFTALAS. AWAKEN. AWAKEN. AWAKEN!
Why is Jane screaming so much? Are the dead deaf as well?
Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa.
Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa.
Jane: WHY ARE YOU SILENT, O' GREAT GHOST OF ZANZIBAR? WE ARE WAITING FOR YOU. SHOWER US WITH YOUR KNOWLEDGE. ARISE FROM YOUR GRAVES! ARISE. AWAKEN. ARISE. OPEN YOUR SLEEPY EYES.
Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa.
Hoola Hoo (GIGGLE GIGGLE) Saa Shaa (GIGGLE GIGGLE).
Jane: LILY, stop GIGGLING like a git! And HESTIA, you are swaying the pom-poms far too HARD! It's blowing off the CANDLES!
Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa.
Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa.
Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa.
Jane: WHY ARE YOU ASLEEP; COME HAUNT US. WHITHER ARE YOU BOUND, COME HOUND…er…HAUNT US! FERULA, FERULA, FERULA. ARISE, ARISE, AND SPEAK TO ME, O' WISEST OF THE WISE!
My eyes watering from all the fumes and the perfume, I crept away from there, slowly, quietly, and approached the casket of Emmeline's jewels. Not to frolic amongst them, you IMBECILE of a READER, just to gain some first-hand knowledge of the scene of the crime.
Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa.
Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa.
Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa.
Hoola Hoo Saa Shaa.
Interesting. Interesting. Emmeline's turquoise earrings are gone too. Hmm…That's a nice gold-chain. It has a ruby pendant. I've never seen that one before. Do you think I'd look like a Blue Jay wearing it, from this angle? Or, how about in this position?
Oooooh.
What have we here? There's a silvery thimble too. I remember Godmother Hoopoe wearing something like that on 111th birthday—
"CAUGHT IN THE ACT!"
I whipped around at the sound of Emmeline's scream. She was standing at the doorway, her face wet with tears, and a wild look in her eyes. And…and…she had her index finger pointed towards…towards…ME?
ME?
What did I do?
Jane: OOH, VOODOO! HE HAS ARRIVED! MERLIN'S SPIRIT HAS ARRIVED! Oh, WONDER OF WONDERS… HORROR OF HORRORS! MERLIN HAS ENTERED EMMELINE'S BODY; HE IS SPEAKING THROUGH EMMELINE'S LIPS TO US…. Oh, speak! SPEAK TO US, Greatest of the Great Wizards. Speak to ME!
WHAT?
Hestia: That's not Merlin. That's EMMELINE!
Jane: Shut up, INFIDEL! And DON'T SHOUT!
Lily: Quiet, both of you! Emmeline, what's wrong?
Emmeline who was now taking dangerous steps towards me, with her finger still raised at me, turned around to glare at Lily.
"What's WRONG with me?" she yelled at my mistress. "What's WRONG? You don't know why I'm so upset? Don't you know that my jewels have been stolen? Stolen. STOLEN by your darling little PIXIE!"
WHAT? DOUBLE WHAT?
"Puck would never do something like that," said Lily in gentle voice. "He likes looking at them, that's all there is to it."
But Emmeline seemed beyond reason. She began chucking the Voodoo Figurines at me.
"My family heirloom ring is missing…. (She chucked a Zombie at me)…. Puck was playing with it last Sunday…. (A Ghoul was thrown at me.)…. He must have liked it, so he decided to steal it! (Another Zombie flung at me here. Did Lily just deflect it with her wand?) Why this miserable little piece of TOERAG! This... this… IMP!"
IMP?
IMP?
What is it with people calling me an IMP! I mean, this is TOO BLOODY MUCH! They can't take me so lightly… I mean, I have my own self-respect too. So what if I keep the company of poltergeists and redheads? Does that make me an IMP, I ask you—
I knew that Potter's company would addle Emmeline's senses one day.
I dodged the skeleton Emmeline sent my way. Why, she's getting more and more like me with every passing day!
I noticed that Jane was eyeing the shattered remains of the Voodoo Figurines with great anguish. Oh goody! Emmeline's definitely going to get her punishment soon enough.
"And when this little Punching Bag saw that my casket was unlocked, he took off with my rings, and—"
"Don't you dare talk about Puck like that!" said Lily sternly, and I flew into her outstretched palm.
Yeah. Nobody wants to be called an IMP 24 hours of the day!
But when has Vance the Vain ever listened to good sound reason?
"Oh, but of course!" said Emmeline, looking quite mad in her plight. "Who would DARE to accuse the Head Girl's pet—her mothball of a thief? But maybe you're right and I'm wrong, Evans! Perhaps Puck hasn't stolen my jewels. Perhaps YOU have! Yes, you are the criminal MASTERMIND of Hogwarts—"
"You're raving," said Lily with a supremely disdainful toss of her red mane.
"SHUT UP, you stupid little MUDBLOOD—"
There was a collective gasp from Jane and Hestia, and Emmeline suddenly fell silent, looking aghast, and clasping a spidery pale hand to her mouth.
I have never seen Lily's face so white, like ash, so blank, so…so…hurt.
There was absolute silence in the room. Then—
"I'll leave now," said Lily shortly, and holding me tight in her hand, she rushed out.
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Nightfall, Head Girl's Chamber
Current Activity: Sobbing into Lily's pillow
In which Puck repents his past misdemeanors.
This is all my fault, I thought sadly, as I lay upon Lily's pillow, weak with tears. All my ruddy bloody fault.
If I hadn't been so greedy and vain, I wouldn't have been playing with Emmeline's jewels, and Emmeline wouldn't have wrongly accused me, and Lily wouldn't have tried to vindicate me, and Emmeline wouldn't have called her a—
"Go to sleep, Puck," said Lily, patting my tiny head. "Tomorrow everything will be OK again."
Will it?
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19th September, Monday
Sunrise, Head Girl's Chamber
Current Activity: Looking out into the Hogwarts grounds below through the open French window
In which Puck realizes that Absent-mindedness can be a virtue.
When I woke up this morning, I found Lily sitting by the window, already bathed and dressed, and gazing all starry-eyed at the soft sunrays spilling over the tree-tops.
I tapped her on the shoulder, and fixed her with my hangdog look, but she was still enraptured with her artist's world.
Apparently, she had forgotten last night's gruesome episode. But the word used here is "apparently". Since my feeler wasn't working anymore, I could not decipher if her smile was merely a pretense.
"How lovely!" she breathed out in a dreamy voice.
Then, without a word more, she took off with her sketchbook and quill.
It's a good thing that artists can be so absent-minded sometimes.
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5:00 a.m.
19th September, Monday
The Quidditch Pitch
Current Activity: Admiring Lily's pretty hands as she draws
Word of the Day: Pandemonium ( Noisy Confusion, or what Potter was born to create)
In which Puck is really, really irritated by Potter the Parasite
I can see Lily's quill moving swiftly over the pages, drawing trees and goal-posts and seats. She really should make a profession out of her art. Why become an Unspeakable, when art is so much easier, lovelier and more inspiring for her?
"Ahoy there, Lily!" cried Potter, climbing up the steps to the podium to disturb her. "You're before time. The match starts at six."
I could've said the same to him.
"Yes, I know," said Lily simply. "But this morning when I woke up, I saw a little raven on my windowsill, and I was suddenly inspired to paint the Quidditch stadium. Do you ever get inspirations like that?"
"Er," said Potter, which, of course, meant that no, he didn't.
I could see the rest of the Gryffindor team trooping into the Quidditch grounds, buzzing some absurd anthem of their own. I'm sure you can guess who was singing the loudest out there. Why, Hurricane Hestia (a Chaser on the team), of course!
"So, Lilea, whatcha drawing today?" asked Sirius, as he hopped off his broom beside Lily. Sirius Black was on the Gryffindor team too, and I have to add here, somewhat regretfully, that he was a very skilled Keeper.
"The Quidditch pitch, I see," said Wendy Wallace, the Gryffindor Seeker, as she clapped Lily's back.
"She's a great artist, our Lily," said Sirius, eyeing Lily's red face with much amusement.
What is this, a Gather-around-Lily Ceremony?
The Prewett brothers too had reached the podium by now, swinging their heavy bats like sacks of cotton. I've always liked Gideon and Fabian very much, and I wouldn't have minded Lily dating either of them. But the trouble is, they both look so BLOODY ALIKE! Not to mention, they always make it a point to wear the same damn clothes and the same shoes and hairstyle, and the same cologne.
I mean, how're you gonna know whether you're snogging Gideon or Fabian?
The faces of the two brothers split into identical evil grins as they each took a jab at Lily's braid. (Potter gave them a menacing look here.)
"Can you make out which of them is Gideon, and which one is Fabian?" whispered Sirius to Lily. "They've been annoying me all the way down here."
Lily was very quick with her answer, because she had once experienced the same problem. "When Gideon smiles, his eye muscles crinkle up, but when Fabian smiles, his forehead wrinkles up. That is how I manage to distinguish between them."
Sirius chortled and gave her a thumbs-up sign.
"What are you two conspiring about?" asked Potter in a suspicious tone.
"I was telling Lily that our Captain's barking mad," said Sirius, "making us practice Quidditch at 5 a.m. of the morning."
"We're here because we have to train our newest and youngest Chaser, Bertram Botts for the upcoming matches, as I've reminded you twenty-one times already, Padfoot," said Potter with a roll of his dirty muddy eyes.
Sirius shrugged and whispered something to my Lily, which was as usual, very important and very useless.
"So where is the dratted boy?" asked Wendy, stifling a huge yawn.
"Lily, are you sure you didn't kill Bertie in your last tutoring session with him?" asked Hestia, struggling not to stumble over the seats.
"Oh, you tutor him?" asked the Prat called Potter.
"In Charms," said Lily, now involved in a fight with Fabian to extricate her quill from his grasp.
"I think I can see Bertie on the pitch," said Gideon, screwing up his forehead. "How excited he is! He seems to be doing some sort of tango with his broomstick."
This I've GOT to see for myself!
What's up, Bertie, old fellow? Can't wait to get a girlfriend, can you? Oh, that's right, twirl your legs, dip it down, dip it down…. Now DON'T go SNOGGING it…. What? What's that you're singing?
Bertie bought some blue beans
But the beans were bitter
So he bought some burgundy beads
But the beads were bigger
So he bought some blackbirds
But the blackbirds were busier
So he bought some brown bells
But the brown bells were bulkier….
And
obviously, Bertie kept on buying and buying and buying till his
father became bankrupt and beat him black-and-blue with a broomstick.
"Hiya, Lily!" He screamed from the pitch, as the Gryffindor team flew down to form a circle around him, weak with laughter.
Lily waved back at him merrily, for she was rather fond of the chubby little second year.
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And then began a round of mindless flying and shouting, but Lily went on sketching and I went on admiring her work.
Potter was obviously not pleased.
He liked being in the spotlight, and Lily had not even glanced at him for the past ten minutes. I could see him turning around to gaze at her every now and then.
Finally, he got too hot for his collar and—
Potter the Pervert: EVANS! Throw aside YOUR QUILL for a moment, and LEARN some tips FOR FLYING!
Really! Students of Hogwarts can't digest their food without a daily bout of shouting and shouting.
Sirius: Come on, Lilea! Don't be such a bore! Stop drawing and pay attention!
Pay attention to WHAT, exactly? To BOORISH louts LIKE you?
Potter the Prick: Some CHICKENS just DON'T GET it, PADFOOT!
I swear I'm going to murder that idiot one of these days!
A slow and painful death... And he'll die begging me for mercy.
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Lily was resolute in her decision not to look at Potter through the entire practice. But Potter, the thick SKULL that he's got, just wouldn't leave her in peace.
He made it a point to:
1) Fly as close to her as possible
2) Holler as loud as possible
3) Throw Quaffles to her left and right
4)…. And be a right old toad in general.
I'm proud to say my Lily never budged (ignoring the fact that she DID smile once or twice, but that was because Potter looks like a clown when he's flustered and grumpy.)
Potter the Petulant: COME ON, Hestia! Don't FLY LIKE A CHICKEN, fly like an EAGLE!
Really that boy's got a major, major ATTENTION-SEEKING DISORDER!
Bertie (flying close to Potter): Is Bagman a very good Captain, James?
Potter the Proud: NOT LIKE ME!
Bertie: I'm really worried James. This is going to be my first match, and I don't want to fail you.
Sirius: Have you taught him the TURKEY TRICK, Prongs?
AAAAAAAAARGH! What's with these buffoons?
Turkeys and Chickens, indeed! Hmph.
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Potter the Pustule: Alright, Bertie. Listen very closely to ME. I'm going to TEACH YOU a very important MANEUVER IN QUIDDITCH. It's a very DANGEROUS tactic called the TURKEY TRICK! 'T' for TURKEY and 'T' for TRICK! It was INVENTED BY—
Him, of course.
Bertie: Why are you shouting, James? You're making my ears throb!
Hear. Hear.
Potter the Puke-worthy: Who's SHOUTING? I'm not SHOUTING! AND you pay ATTENTION to ME!
Shout all you like, Potter. Lily's never going to look up from her drawing of the Maple trees…. They're so much more interesting than you, you know?
Not to mention, your deep loud voice is making her wince and distracting her from her work. Can't you see it?
Potter the Pitiful: NOW, HERE'S what YOU do! YOU SEE that Quaffle LOOP over THERE where Gideon's FIGHTING with a BLUDGER? Now, WHEN THE QUAFFLE is PASSED TO you, you will START on a ZIGZAG TRAIL across the GOALPOSTS. UP, down, UP, down. Next to Sirius, next to Hestia, next to LILY… till YOU finally REACH the nearest OPPOSING goalpost. CLEAR, till now?
Gosh! Doesn't his voice ever get hoarse with all that screaming?
Sirius (from the Keeper's end): LOUD and clear, James! LOUD and clear!
Potter the Pirate: RIGHT, then. Ready, Bertie? ONCE you ARRIVE at the opposing Goalpost, you MUST PRETEND as if you're suddenly SICK, and start FLYING straight DOWNWARDS. OK? The opposing team WILL THINK that you're SICK and that you'll LET GO of the QUAFFLE any moment now. THEY WILL CLEAR your path, and SHIFT aside, and THAT'S when you START CIRCLING THE LOOP, and throw the Quaffle IN. DO YOU GET IT?
Bertie: Right into my ears… I mean, I thought that was called the Woollongong Shimmy Move.
Potter the Pickpocket: You thought WRONG!
Fabian: James, why don't you show him the move yourself? You're a master at it.
Bertie: Oh yes, please.
Potter the Punishable: SURE, I will! You'll become the Hogwarts heartthrob in a day! BOTTS, you SEE, GIRLS like that sort of a THING…even though they might SEEM INTERESTED in other ARTS.
Bah. Humbug.
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So, after those innumerous declarations of impressive Quidditch moves, and loud rapier-edged hints towards Lily, Potter the Pernickety started to show Bertie his favourite "Turkey Trick".
Even I was impressed by the way he zoomed like a comet alongside Sirius, across Hestia, next to Lily (where he fumbled for a second as their eyes met for the first time)… and so forth… till he finally reached the nearest opposing goalpost.
There, he pretended to tuck his tummy in and vomit, as his broomstick spiraled downwards with all the might of a cyclone. It was all happening so fast that everything seemed blurred and hazy, and I could see Lily dilate her eyes for greater focus. (Yes, her eyes were fixed towards Potter the Puerile now…but only because she wanted to portray a performing orangutan in her painting.)
Bertie watched with adoring eyes as Potter the Pest took a reverse turn upwards and geared himself for circling the goalpost, ready to fling in the Quaffle any moment. But, obviously Fate had something else in store.
It's called nemesis, that's what it's called.
BWONG!
In his last bid for Lily's attention, Potter the Pompous had obviously forgotten how to perform the Turkey Trick. For, as his team watched in horror, Potter the Plunderer's feet got entangled in the hoop, his feet collided with his own Quaffle, and his broomstick bucked forward, leaving only one option for him.
Potter started tumbling down to the ground.
"PRONGS!" cried Sirius Black as he rushed to help his friend.
"Defortius!" shouted Gideon, with his wand stretched forward, and I saw Potter slowing down through his fall.
He plopped down to the ground with a soft "thump", but his eyes remained closed.
Ah, peace has returned to my ears. The Quidditch pitch is so silent you can hear the drop of a pixie.
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Lily (shaking Potter, much to my chagrin): James? James! Wake up! What's wrong with him? Why's he still unconscious? Gideon did use the Slowing Charm on him; he couldn't have been hurt! James!
The roles seemed to have reversed here. Potter's the one who's playing Damsel-in-Distress, and Lily's his saviour.
Oh, I knew that Manual couldn't always be right.
Sirius: Why don't you try your Rejuvenation Charm on him, Lilea? Or better still; give him a MOUTH TO MOUTH RESUSCIATION! I'm sure that will work!
WHAT? HOW DARE HE? HOW IMPUDENT! HOW INSOLENT OF HIM TO—
Lily (still bending over Potter): Why don't we use some Stinking Salts? Hestia always carries some with herself, don't you Hestia?
Right on cue, Potter the Pretentious started squirming and coughing on the ground, which was his way of saying that he was conscious again and didn't need some Stinking Salts to be revived.
What a pity.
Potter the Pothead (opening his eyes and finding Lily still bending over him!): Am I in Heaven?
HEAVEN? Why, you POTTER! You won't even find a place in HELL!
Lily: I really should be taking points off you, James Potter, for jeopardizing Bertie's life! If even you can't do the Turkey Trick, how do you expect that a second year old will be able to? I hope you know….blah blah blah….
Potter the Polygamist just kept staring at her with a dazed, glassy-eyed face and a senseless goofy smile.
"My heartiest greetings to the Gryffindor Team!'
I swivelled around to see who'd spoken….
Oh, HURRAY! Hurray!
BAGMAN'S HERE!
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6 a.m.
19th September, Monday
The Quidditch Pitch
Current Activity: Trying not to cheer for Gryffindor
Word of the Day: Hazard (danger, like that of seeing Potter triumph over Bagman)
In which Puck considers suicide.
Although Quidditch has always been too lazy a game for me, I'm not that new to it. Prince Eric the Third of Sparta (one of my previous owners) used to haunt every single Quidditch match, and we would sit together in the topmost isolated boxes meant for the royal families. He would sit there, looking so innocent and harmless, when actually he'd be hexing the unsuspecting Quidditch players. He had a whole batch of Confounding Charms, Trip Jinxes, Hurling Hexes and Body Bludger Curses up his sleeve, and he used them lavishly, without shame, without remorse.
He wasn't evil. He was…just…mean.
….A trait that he possibly passed on to Potter the Psychopath. Are they long lost relatives, do you think?
Honestly! Even when Potter the Psychotic is battling with Quaffles and yammering at teammates, he manages to produce a thesaurus on chickens, turkeys, ducks and other poultry birds with astounding expertise. He must have been a Butcher in his past life.
Alright, ALRIGHT. So Potter's an irritatingly perfect Chaser, who's made fifteen goals in the past one hour (Doesn't he ever miss?) and is the sole reason why the Score Board says GRYFFINDOR 160, HUFFLEPUFF 20.
But this only shows that I don't hold grudges, and can accept the good points of even my enemies.
Poor Bagman, if only the Hufflepuff team hadn't been such a bunch of dilapidated DOXIES.
PONTNER, betting with Dirk Creswell about WHAT his FARTS smell like will not help you GET RID of the Bludger coming towards YOU!
No, LUDO, now's NOT the time to bet WHETHER Florence Mallory's Quaffle will be a hit or a miss. SEE? She MISSED, and BOTTS SCORED! Ludo, I beg of you, GIVE up your WAGERS with Davey Gludgeon RIGHT NOW. Don't you think TOMORROW would be a better day to bet if it's a SUNDAY or NOT?
CARADOC DEARBORN! You were appointed Hufflepuff Seeker for a reason! Stop winking at Wendy and search for that SNITCH!
Gryffindor 210, Hufflepuff 30.
BILLIONS OF BLUE BLUNDERING BURPING BELLOWING BANDICOOTS!
Don't they ever learn from past mistakes? Whatever happened to their challenge to beat Potter?
While I was getting worked up at the lowly Hufflepuff scores and Potter's vile tricks, Lily had shut her sketchbook and had chewed down her Quill to its very nib.
"Puck, did you really steal Emmeline's jewels?" asked Lily suddenly, watching the match between the two teams with detached, unfocussed eyes.
Reader, I was immeasurably hurt by her question; saddened that she would distrust me so. Did she have no faith in me at all?
"Hey, Puck," she cooed to me, "I know you didn't. I know it. But once you affirm it, I'll be more confident… confident enough to battle with the whole world for you. So tell me again. You didn't steal Emmeline's jewels, did you?
I shook my head at her to say 'no', and she gave me a pitiful smile to show that she believed me, but for some reason, the hurt was not yet gone.
Oh, well. Quid pro quo, as they say.
I had hurt her too, hadn't I? Wasn't I the reason why Lily had been slandered by her best friend, Emmeline Vance?
I turned back to look at the Score Board.
Gryffindor 230, Hufflepuff 30.
"BUCK UP, YOU IMPS!" I heard Potter shout to his team.
Something stirred in my memory; something snapped in my mind.
Anger—anger at Emmeline, anger at Potter, anger at Lily, anger at myself—was flooding me with a recklessness I had forgotten years ago.
Revenge. Revenge. Revenge. The only word coursing through my blood like an irrevocable mantra.
REVENGE. REVENGE.
I may be down in misery, I may be helpless with rage, but I've not yet lost my genius, and my memory is as shiny as it always was.
An ancient curse came springing to my mind, and I suddenly knew, as clear as a fairy's tears, what I had to do.
Yes, Basil. This is it, your only chance. What a brilliant way to get rid of Potter and making Bagman Lily's hero, all in one stroke!
There it is, Basil. Lily's wand is lying on the seat, completely forgotten. No one is watching you. Lily is engrossed in the match.
Pick it up, Puck. Pick up Lily's wand.
Use it, Puck. Use Lily's wand for the greater good of mankind.
Pick it up, go on.
I took up the wand, and I muttered the words of the Body Bludger Curse that the crafty Prince Eric had taught me.
Come on, Ludo, we'll win this fight
Twist your bat and swing it right
Bludger coming through; be on your toes
Swift and sure, it will charge at your foes.
Bludger be ready, Bludger be nimble
Bagman's foe you must hit, and never fumble
Bludger be rough, Bludger be faster
Listen to Puck, and go hit—
LILY!
Lily! What are you DOING?
You snatched away your wand, right when I was going to say Potter's name, and I said your name instead. Have you any idea—
Oh. Merlin. No. This CANNOT be!
WHAM!
"Lily!" was the united chorus from the Quidditch pitch, as the Bludger hit my hapless mistress, Lily Evans, with all the force of a tornado.
"I bet she was HIT really HARD by that Bludger!" I heard Pontner shout to Bagman. "Her face is all covered in BLOOD!"
Lily, Lily, my beloved angel, have I killed you? Have I disfigured you? Have I ruined your pretty face?
Lily, Lily, my sweet little twit! Why did you pluck your wand away, oh, why did you distract me?
"Is she alive?" screamed a hysterical Hestia, disembarking from her broomstick and tripping on a stone chair.
"Of course she's ALIVE!" snarled Gideon, looking as if he wanted to slap her, but I could see he was not too sure about this.
Don't slap her, Prewett. Slap me!
Oh, what have I done?
I should jump off the Astronomy Tower.
"Bagman, you WANKER!" cried Sirius, brandishing a fist at the Hufflepuff Captain. "YOU COULDN'T EVEN HIT A BLUDGER PROPERLY! YOU WITH YOUR STUPID WASPS' UNIFORM AND STUPID TALL CLAIMS, AND YOU COULDN'T EVEN HANDLE YOUR BAT? YOU'VE KNOCKED HER OUT! YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS, BAGMAN! I SWEAR—UGH!"
I will never forget the way Hestia was sobbing and hiccupping, and the way Wendy kept wiping at Lily's bruised forehead and wincing.
"I think I can feel a pulse," said Potter, holding Lily's wrist within his palm, a very bizarre expression on his face, a strange darkness in his eyes.
"Hurry, then!" said Sirius. "Let's take her to Madam Pomfrey at once."
I watched with teary eyes as Potter conjured up a stretcher for her, and directed it through the crowd of Quidditch players, Black and Hestia close at his heels.
"You guys are making too much of this," said Bagman, who hadn't batted an eyelid all this while. "I bet it was all just a stunt for getting attention, that all. I bet Lily will recover in a day or two, the sly vixen!"
Potter whipped around, and fixing Bagman with the most dangerous look he could muster, he shouted—
"VOMPULA!"
Potter's hex sent Bagman into an attack of coughing and spluttering and vomiting. He cried out to the rest of them for help, but nobody wanted to look at the PUKEBAG GASBAG FUNGUSBAG WINDBAG BAGMAN who had just insulted Lily Evans.
To think that I even considered an insensitive, barbaric, careless, indecent, uncivilized bumpkin as a prospective suitor for Lily!
I BET Bagman will be thrown out of the Wimbourne Wasps within a day!
Who else wants to wager on that?
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FOOTNOTES:
I'm sorry if you've found any spelling or Grammar mistakes, but I was anxious to post this chapter; its been 3 months after all.
How about that new exciting dish on the menu? The dish called a REVIEW?
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Review! Review! Review! It's always delicious.