The Bet
A Harry Potter Fanfic
Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I have no part in the production or creation of any of the Harry Potter books, including Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander. J.K. Rowling owns everything…except for this little bet I've come up with. ;D
Okay, so this is a LJ Marauder-generation twoshot. At least, I intend it to be one, but knowing me, it'll probably end up as a threeshot. They'll be in their fifth year.
Enjoy!
xoxo's from AJ
Mackled Malaclaw: A land-dwelling creature found mostly on rocky coastlines around Europe. It resembles a lobster; however it is unfit for human consumption and will result in a high fever and unsightly greenish rash. It is light grey with deep green spots, and its bite has the unusual side effects of making the victim extremely unlucky for a period of time of up to a week after the injury. If you are bitten by a Malaclaw, all bets, wagers and speculative ventures should be cancelled, as they are sure to go against the victim.
-Extract (edited) from Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, mentioned above.
"Evans, I bet you couldn't go a month without insulting me to hell."
When that idiot Potter said those words with that stupid cocky grin on his face, I felt an uncontrollable urge to slap it clean off. So, of course, I accepted.
"The terms of this bet are: If I win, and you manage not to insult me, you go out on a date with me."
I was about to protest, when he mentioned the magic words:
"But if you win, I'll never bother you again. In fact, I'll throw in dear old Sevvie as well."
"Oh, it's ON, Potter. It's so on."
-LJ-
But when I broke this news to my supposed best friends, Alice and Katie, I got a less-than-supportive response.
From Alice: "Insulting James Potter IS your life, Lils. Besides, he's such a cutie, I'll do anything to go out with him. I mean, remember Valentine's Day last year, when he gave you that enormous stuffed bear and said it reminded him of you? And then gave you a bouquet of calla lilies and roses? I mean, sure, it was a little cheesy, but-"
From Katie: "Ha. Good luck, Evans."
Such lovely, charming people, don't you think?
-LJ-
Day One – Lily's Bet Journal
I woke up at eight, like I do every Saturday. I dumped a bucket of cold water over Katie and held a chocolate bar over Alice's nose, like I do everyday. Katie spluttered and cursed in about thirteen different languages and dialects (She's lived in about fifty different countries in all the continents. Her parents are translators and she filled in for them when they didn't like their clients.) and Alice jerked awake and flailed about, grabbing at thin air.
It's part of our everyday morning ritual, since I'm the only one who can wake up on time. Not that Alice and Katie are lazy. They're lovely people, really. If you don't count their inability to do their homework on time, apparent ineptitude to most things academic, and complete ignorance towards James Potter's insolence and arrogance. And seemingly natural ability to annoy the hell out of me.
So, I showered and got dressed in a white long-sleeved shirt and nice comfy jeans. And seeing as it was unseasonably warm, I pushed up the sleeves of my shirt and prepared to be lectured by Alice on my lack of fashion sense. Just like every other Hogsmeade weekend.
Then Katie and I urged Alice to hurry up with her makeup, since we were simply going to breakfast, then to see Hagrid for a while, and finally, to Hogsmeade to enjoy the lovely sunny day, where Katie would go with Daniel Patterson, a sixth-year Ravenclaw and Alice and I would ambush Honeydukes and Fortescue's Spectacular Ice Cream Shoppe, and then we would go to The Three Broomsticks to meet with Katie and enjoy a delicious Butterbeer. At least, that was the plan.
While going downstairs for breakfast, we were approached by the infamous Marauders. Potter than proceeded to exclaim about how lovely my hair looked today, and I had to bite my tongue so as to not respond with a well-intentioned remark about how I wished I could say the same about him. Sirius Black, throwing a cursory glance at him, decided to comment on Katie's 'perfectly lovely' lips with one of his cheesy pick-up lines.
Katie is, if you haven't yet noticed, the prettiest of the group and the most Anti-Sirius), decided that the remainder of her pumpkin juice would be wasted on her drinking it and poured it over his robes. Alice, oblivious to this exchange, was contentedly alternating between flirting with Frank Longbottom and conversationally discussing our Herbology project with Remus Lupin, by far my favourite Marauder with his lovely tendency to keep his mouth shut and his well-earned proficiency in academics, unlike the ringleaders of the group or the oddball Peter Pettigrew. I still feel it's unfair that Potter and Black are naturally good at every bloody subject. They don't even have to try.
So, after a light breakfast of buttered bread and pumpkin juice, I went outside with the others. We had a lighthearted debate about the 'drop-dead gorgeousness' of the Italian transfer, ignited by Alice. Katie argued that Sirius Black, despite his completely infuriating personality, was way better-looking. Alice insisted that Marco (the transfer student) was equally cute, plus he was really nice and charming. I said that neither could compete with Peter Stanford's heart-rending smile. But Alice declared that Marco could beat both of them hands down.
And then we arrived at Hagrid's. That was where everything went downhill.
"Lily, Alice, Katie!" he greeted. "Jus' in time to see m' new pets from Edinbur'." He gestured to a huge box sitting on the wooden table. I approached it cautiously. Immediately, a large, grey claw, spotted with dark green, reached out and snapped right in her face, about two inches from my nose.
I shrieked and Alice screamed. Katie gasped. "Your pets are Mackled Malaclaws?" she demanded with a kind of horrified fear. "Those aren't pets, those are…abominations! Why didn't you get a nice, safe Kneazle instead?"
Hagrid patted the claw affectionately. "Don' worry, Katie. I got 'em under control. An' Kneazles are boring lil' critters. Wha' do you have against 'em anyways?"
Katie fixed him with her trademark icy cold stare. "I got bitten my one when I was ten, during a holiday to the seaside. I ended up in the hospital a night later, having almost drowned twice."
Hagrid shifted uncomfortably. "Well, they're not the most pleasant o' creatures, bu' they're nice little fellas, really." He lifted one out of the box and pointed a large finger at it. "This is 'Enrietta. Ain't she beautiful?"
I shrieked again. Katie backed away slowly. "Hagrid," she said slowly, "Put her down. Now."
Hagrid looked slightly bewildered, but he placed her back in the box. "Whatever possessed you to touch it?" Katie yelled. "You KNOW the bite causes really, really bad luck! You could get…ambushed by an Acromantula or something!"
He looked slightly guilty at that. "Acromantulas aren't found in Scotland," he said loudly. Katie glared at him with suspicion, but left the matter at it, and resumed yelling at him.
"Katie, they're alrigh', really," he assured her, and lifted Henrietta out of the box again. "See?"
Just then, Henrietta decided to launch itself on my shoulder and bite it hard. I felt a kind of discomfort at first, and then it faded and replaced itself with absolute agony.
"OW! OW! ARGHH! GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF!" I screamed, attempting in vain to brush it off. It remained resolutely attached to my shoulder. "HAGRID-" I yelled. He quickly came over and plucked it off, taking some of my precious shoulder flesh with it. It burned even more. A couple more exclamations of "OW, OW, OWIE, OWWWW," followed.
Needless to say, Alice and Katie went to Hogsmeade alone, while I was stuck in the Hospital Wing for the rest of the day, shrieking in pain when Madam Pomfrey poured that potion on my shoulder, and whimpering at regular intervals during the rest of the day. The only positive part was that James, despite his idiocy, was rather sweet to buy me that huge bouquet of flowers.
And then I remembered from my Care of Magical Creatures textbook. "It's bite has the unusual side effect of making the victim highly unlucky for a period of up to a week," Professor Hedgewick had drilled into our heads, "And all bets, wagers and anything that has the slightest chance of danger or you losing should be cancelled, for they are sure to go against the victim, or in the case of physical activity, a trip to Madam Pomfrey." The whole class had laughed, including me.
Well, I sure wasn't laughing now.