Commentarius

Tuesday, September 9th, Charms

Oh, bother. I really am an idiot.

I definitely remember having my parchment this morning. I know I had it, but it's not in my bag. Not even one single stupid piece. But I know I had it. In fact, I remember quite vividly taking it out of my bag this morning, fixing up that bit of Potions homework that really didn't make even a bit of sense last night and then...

...and then putting it on my desk. In my dorm.

And not back in my bag.

Ugh.

Double damn damn damn damn.

"Gracie! Hey, Grace!"

I nudge a sleeping Grace in the shoulder. She mutters something incoherent, turns her head away and ignores me. I nudge her again, harder, and she groans softly, lifting her head off of the desk. She blinks up owlishly at me. "Mnhwha?" she grumbles through her sleep.

"Do you have a bit of parchment I can borrow?"

"Sfhparch?"

"Yeah, parchment."

Grace stretched her hands above her hand as she yawns quietly, not even worried about the fact that we're in the middle of a Charms class and she's making it quite obvious that she's just been woken up from a nap. Much to my annoyance, even through her fatigued state, Grace is still able to give me what can be referred to as a rather devilish grin. "Lily," she chides, shaking her head. "In order to build up your responsibility, you have to learn to face the consequences of your forgetful actions!"

I roll my eyes and glare, ignoring the scolding mantra that Emma always repeats to Grace whenever she forgets something. What a bloody hypocrite this girl is.

"Grace! Come on!"

"You're Head Girl, Lily. I'm just trying to help you be the best you can be!"

I give her a nasty look as she places her head back down on the desk and promptly closes her eyes once more.

She can go on with that nonsense for as long as she wants, but I think we both really know this has nothing to do with helping me be the best I can be, and everything to do with Grace's own amusement.

Bloody rotten best mate.

But what am I going to do now? I have no parchment and Flitwick is just going on and on and I'm going to miss it all...

Hey, wait a second...

Parchment. Here. In here.

Oh, Merlin. Sometimes I wonder where my senses go.

Restoring Spell

1) What is a Restoring Spell used for?
A Restoring Spell forces an Animagus who has transformed into animal form to revert to their human form.

2) What are the effects of this spell?
The spell's effect is a large bright blue-white flash of light.

3) How to properly perform a Restoring Spell:
Does he seriously think I'm going to copy all of that down?! [pg. 843 in Charms and Their Likes by Newton J. Riter...]

Well, that lasted long. I really am just turning into such a skiver. Seriously. This time last year, I would have sat here and copied down every single solitary word off of that blackboard. And fifth year... Merlin, in fifth year I would've written down extra reading material! I was a bit of an anorak back then. I really don't know what's gotten into me recently. Aren't you supposed to gain responsibility as you get older, not lose it?

See? Another clear example as to why I shouldn't be living.

_________________

Wednesday, September 10th, Breakfast in the Great Hall

I'm not going to my tutoring session tonight. I'm simply not going. No one can force me to. I am not going to be humiliated any more. I won't stand for it.

Plus, since I am never again speaking to James Potter, it might become a bit difficult if I did go.

No one can blame me for not going. Seriously, they just can't. If I have to, I'll sit down with McGonagall tomorrow and explain exactly why I didn't show up. I intend to talk to her anyway, because I need to have my tutor switched. Once she hears all about my green-glop catastrophe (if she hasn't already, that is), I know she'll let me switch. I am, after all, a favourite of hers-- unfortunately, so is Potter, but us women have to stick together in times like these, and if I have to remind her of that fact, I will.

Female Power, Professor, it's all about the Female Power.

I'll switch my tutor, I'll pass Transfiguration and my life will once again be back on track.

So I'm not going.

There.

_________________

Wednesday, September 10th, History of Magic

Had a fabulous morning, even though I had Transfiguration, which usually means that the morning doesn't turn out too well. Today was a note taking class, so I needn't had to worry about humiliating myself in front of everyone, at least for today. This put me in such a brilliant mood that I didn't even mind that Grace kept on poking me with her quill because I refused to stop drawing hearts on my notes (did I mention that Amos had brushed past me not moments before with a polite 'excuse me'? Ah, heaven). She is so lazy. She only wanted me to copy them down because she didn't want to and Emma said her hand hurt. What is with that anyway? Aren't I the Head Girl? Isn't it me who's supposed to be bossing her around? How unfair is that?

But I did it anyway. Copied the Transfiguration notes, I mean. I think I did it quite well, too. When you hold the parchment away from your face, the cursive looks all neat and organized and just totally fab-- well, except for the hearts drawn along the edges. Those look a bit silly, but at the time, I really couldn't help myself.

I'm such a riot.

"Miss Evans? Will you please stay after class for a moment?"

Miss Evans? What? Me?

Excuse me?

What in Merlin's name could McGonagall want from me this time? I hadn't even done anything yet! I mean, I'm working perfectly hard at trying to be a good role model and all-- you know, living up to my 'Head Girl' image-- but it's just not going to happen if she keeps holding me after class. It ruins my good reputation (pah! What reputation?). And the shooting "what-in-Merlin's-name-have-you-done-this-time" glances I was receiving from Grace and Emma weren't helping either. Stupid birds.

So when the ending bell rang and I was still being shot "what-did-you-do" glances from just about everyone in the class, you have to understand my extreme sense of discomfort. I mean, wouldn't you feel uncomfortable as well? This was the second time in the first bloody week of school that I was being talked privately to by a professor. That has to be a record or something.

"Professor?" I asked rather timidly, once I had made sure everyone else was out of the classroom. No one was going to hear my horrors. Especially when I didn't even know what they were yet.

"Miss Evans." McGonagall nodded towards the desk in front of her. Miserably, I sank slowly into the chair. Ah, déjà vu. This wasn't going to be good, not good at all. I mean, you know it's bad when they make you sit down.

"What is it, Professor?"

I tried desperately to keep the panicked tone out of my voice, but couldn't manage to completely rid myself of it. And who could blame me really? In the short time that I had been sitting there, I'd tried desperately to figure out just what it could be that McGonagall could want. She couldn't be kicking me out of class already-- she'd just assigned me my tutor (albeit, that hadn't worked out very well, but she didn't know that yet)! But what else could it possibly be?

McGonagall regarded me with a curious glance, raising her eyebrows slightly at my obvious nerves. "Do relax, Evans. There's nothing to fret about. I simply wanted to inform you that the Headmaster requests your presence for a Heads meeting tomorrow night in his office after dinner."

A meeting?

She made me all nervous and ready to have a nervous breakdown because of a meeting?

Ugh! Professors!

"Oh," I sighed, dropping my shoulders in instant relief. I think I heard a slight chuckle from McGonagall's general direction. I'm sure I'm just incredibly funny to her. "Is that all, then?" I asked, a little ticked that McGonagall had been laughing at my obvious relief. Are teachers allowed to do that? Laugh at their students, I mean? Isn't it against the Professors Code of Conduct or something? If it's not, I truly think it should be.

"Actually," McGonagall said, once she had gotten over her little Lily-humiliation moment. She looked a bit edgy, right about then, with her face all scrunched together and a slight fidget in her chair. That's right. I made Professor McGonagall edgy. Ha. The tables have been turned, Giggly-puff.

"Actually," she repeated a moment later. "I do have a question for you. How has your tutoring been going?"

That was like a kick in the stomach.

Er... well... the thing about my tutoring, Professor...

What was I supposed to say?

Of all the stupid things to ask, she had to ask about tutoring? Well, I suppose it does make sense, seeing that she's my professor and all, but come on! How hellish! What did she expect me to say? "Well, you see Professor, during my recent tutoring session, a large green goopy object was thrown directly at my body by my tutor and his mates which led me to completely spaz out, for which I, along with my tutor, got kicked out of the library for. Any other questions?" Oh yeah. That'd go over well. What was I to do?

"They're going perfectly well, Professor. I actually learned more than I thought I would last session."

That's right. I lied my head off.

I am so so bad.

"I'm glad to hear it, Evans." McGonagall nodded, and it looked to me as if she was the one now feeling relieved. I wanted to chuckle a bit, you know, just to spite her, but then I remembered she was my teacher and I was Head Girl, and Head Girls just don't do stupid, childish things like laughing at their professors in the name of revenge. "But," she added, causing my thoughts to pause. Buts are never any good. "I do have a slight favour to ask of you."

A favour? From me?

"You see," she continued. "I've been having a bit of a problem with the Gryffindor Quidditch team."

The Gryffindor Quidditch team? What in Merlin's name do I have to do with the Gryffindor Quidditch team? I don't play Quidditch. I can hardly fly!

"It seems that we're in desperate need of replacing two members from last year's team. Although I told you that Potter would not have Quidditch problems clashing with your tutoring sessions, we do need to get the tryouts done soon. It seems that Professor Sprout already has the Hufflepuff team out and practicing, and I'd like to actually have a chance at the Cup this year. So would you mind if your tutoring session was cancelled tonight? I'm sure you and Potter could find another sensible date to reschedule for."

YESSSS!

THANK YOU, LORD!

I wouldn't have to not show up! I wouldn't have to explain to McGonagall why I was not attending tutoring this week! She was making up the excuse for me! And she thought she was asking me a favour? Is she out of her mind?

"Well, I suppose it would be okay," I answered, keeping the happiness out of my voice quite well, even sounding a bit disappointed, I think. I'm such a talented actress. "Anything for Gryffindor, right?"

McGonagall nodded with a smile. "Thank you, Miss Evans. I'll inform Potter. You may go now."

She didn't need to tell me twice. Quickly grabbing my books, trying to ignore the fact that I had just blatantly lied to my professor, I gathered up the last of my things and then dashed off.

But now I feel quite bad. I mean, if I had told Professor McGonagall the truth-- that my tutoring sessions weren't going well and were in all actuality, rather failing in their purpose-- she probably would've never allowed this canceling bit to happen. However, because my stupid mouth goes off and lies all by itself without my consent, I don't have tutoring tonight.

You're definitely not supposed to lie to your professors. That I know for certain. But I did. And rather easily, in fact.

When I die, I'm heading straight for hell.

I don't think they'll even let me stop and pack my bags, or let me wish my owl good-bye.

Nope. Straight there.

And as soon as I get there, I'm going to have a personal meeting with Satan himself, because the really really bad lot get to meet Satan. And when Satan says that I've been a very bad person, I'm just going to have to nod and agree because, you know what? I am a horrible, terrible, stupid, thick, miserable little girl.

Pah.

I bet Satan never lied to his Transfiguration teacher.

_________________

Later, 7th-Year Girls' Dormitories

TOP FIVE REASONS WHY YOU SHOULD NOT LEAVE NOTES FROM JAMES POTTER HANGING AROUND YOUR DORMITORY

5) The 7th-Year Girls' dormitory is already an incredibly messy place. I'm serious-- bras, magazines, books, parchment, clothes-- pretty much anything you imagine can all be found on our floor. Just everything everywhere. It's insanity. Why add fuel to the already blazing fire?
4) Ew, man germs.
3) If said "notes" are lying worthlessly upon the floor, that means they haven't been burned yet. Hello? Get that bum in gear and burn those ridiculous things! Go on! Get going!
2) Er... I don't really HAVE a number two, but a Top Four list didn't seem as appealing as a Top Five list, so I changed it.
1) ELISABETH SAUNDERS IS QUITE ABLE TO PICK THEM UP AND READ THEM! RED ALERT! RED ALERT! RED ALERT!

Double damn and fiddlesticks.

_________________

Even Later, 7th-Year Girls' Dormitories

My life is so miserable. My fabulous morning turned out to be just way too much for my bad karma to handle. Apparently, I just wasn't suffering enough. Now, not only am I feeling ridiculously guilty for lying to McGonagall, but Elisabeth Saunders is currently strutting around the room, giving me nasty looks and then glancing towards her bag where she has stashed Potter's notes. Brilliant. It's all just wonderfully brilliant.

This is all Grace's fault. It really truly is. She was the one who kept those wretched notes and then had the nerve to leave them out in the open for ANYONE TO SEE! WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER? WHY DO I HAVE SUCH BLOODY CLUELESS FRIENDS?

This is why I had absolutely no sympathy for her when she walked into the dormitory a few minutes ago, muddy, dirty and with a nasty look on her face. Apparently Potter was in some sort of homicidal mood at tryouts this evening and ran the entire team into the ground. And as cruel as it may seem, all I have to say is: better them than me. Or really, better Grace than me. I currently have no personal vendettas against any other members or potential members of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team. Only my mindless mate.

Oh, Merlin, here she goes again. Saunders, not Grace. Yes, I understand you despise me you stupid little twit, and I understand you're offended that your boy toy would much rather throw bits of parchment at me than he would at you, but really, I don't care, SO JUST STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT! I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!

Blast it all. I'm moving to Guam.

_________________

Thursday, September 11th, History of Magic

I don't believe this. I really don't believe this.

Emma is missing.

Again.

Except this time, she's decided to skip class!

That's right. "Smarty-Pants Vance" has completely blown off History of Magic.

I'm so proud of her, I could nearly burst.

There's no chance in hell that she can pull off the whole "I was at the library," gig, now. She can't possibly "be in the library" when she's supposed to be in class. I have her now.

Who would have thought that our little bookworm Emma had it in her? I mean, I've never skipped a class. That's just bonkers. With my bad karma, Filch would catch me before I could even make it out of my dormitory. Life's just unfair like that sometimes.

I just wish she had told me. Maybe with my bad karma combined with her good karma, I would've stood a chance and could've come with her. Who knows?

Oh, well.

_________________

Still Later, Charms

Emma's still missing. Simply smashing, isn't it?

_________________

Even Later, Ancient Ruins

Lily Evans' Letters to Amos Diggory That She Will Never In Her Life Send, But Still Enjoys Writing Anyway Because She Has Nothing Better To Do But Stare at and Dream of Him in Ancient Ruins

Dear Amos,

Hello! You don't really know me, but I'd just like to let you know that I believe that I'm in love with you.

Sincerely,
Lily Evans

----------------

Dear Sex God,

Hello, again, Amos! I just thought I'd write you another quick note to inform you that I would love you even more if you would just stop talking to Penny O'Jene because you are making me terribly jealous. Sure, she's nice and all, but honestly, have you looked at her hands recently? When was the last time she washed them? It's disgusting!

Sorry about that, love. I'm going to start taking nice lessons from Emma Vance (when I find her), so you won't have to worry about all my negativity.

Oh, and when you become aware of my raging jealousy rush, you may also want to take notice that I am struggling with number 13 in section B. Any help would be greatly appreciated.

Sincerely,
Alone and Desperate

----------------

Dear Object of My Unrequited Affections,

Did I forget to mention that I want to have your children? Just thought I'd let you know.

Sincerely,
Still Stuck On Thirteen

----------------

Dear Dishy Diggory,

I do love you with all my heart, but if you don't move your hand so that I can see the answer to number 13 on Julie Little's paper, I think I may become a bit brassed off. Thanks. I love you.

Sincerely,
Revolting Red

----------------

Dear Adoring Amos,

Brilliant! We didn't even have to do number 13! Why didn't you tell me, love? Could it be because you are too involved in your conversation with Penny to even pay me any mind? Ditch her, darling. For the sake of my already decreasing sanity.

Sincerely,
Loosing Her Mind

----------------

Dear Cracking Boy Sitting Two Seats In Front Of Me,

Great Merlin, Amos! Was that just you who turned about and asked me for a spare quill? Was it? O' faithful Merlin, I do believe it was!

"Oy, Lily! You got a spare quill?"

I will give you more than just a quill if you'd smile at me like that just one more time, my dear sweet Amos. Thank you for making my day bright and until next time, I say farewell.

Sincerely,
Your Future Wife (er... or stalker)

_________________

Still Later, Defense Against the Dark Arts

That's four classes, Grace! Four! Where could she be? -LE

I reckon she's run off for a dirty weekend with some old bloke. Wouldn't that be just brilliant? -GR

I hardly think there's anything brilliant about that, Gracie. Besides, it's Thursday. Can you have a dirty weekend on a Thursday? I think not. Not much of a weekend.

Does Emma know contraception spells? Merlin, I hope she does. Getting pregnant is just not an option for her right now.

I don't think I'm even going to respond to that.

Oh, lighten up, Lily! The world is not coming to an end! She'll come back eventually. I thought you were proud that she was skipping class?

Yeah, one class, maybe two, not all of them! What if something's wrong? What if something bad has happened to her? What if she's sick and dying on her deathbed and we'll never be there to see her? What if they whisk her off in a casket before we even get to say good-bye? WHAT HAPPENS THEN?!

Er... I don't know?

Yeah, well, I'm glad one of us can think of these things.

You're such a loony coot, Lily.

_________________

Later Later, Dinner in the Great Hall

Well, we found Emma.

Yup.

Emma and her boyfriend.

BOYFRIEND!

THE BOYFRIEND SHE NEVER EVEN BOTHERED TO TELL US ABOUT!

There is going to be hell to pay tonight. I'd go strangle her right now, but one, she's sitting at the Ravenclaw table (with her boyfriend) and two, I have to go meet Dumbledore.

I have Satan on my side now. She'll never make it out alive.

_________________

The Latest It Can Possibly Get, 7th-Year Girls Dormitory

In all the time that I've known Professor Dumbledore, I've heard some pretty strange things about him. The most frequent would have to be that he's a bit off his rocker. Now, being the sensible girl that I am, I never truly believed these silly rumors. I mean, the man is possibly the most powerful wizard of our time! How could he possibly be mad and do all those amazing things he's done? You just can't do both. I'd know. I've read about it. So all those rumors? Straight over my head.

That is, until I saw his office tonight.

Dear. Merlin.

I don't think I've ever seen so much junk since my Aunt Mae had that garage sale back when I was seven. It was terrible! I mean, I assume all his little knick-knacks and gadgets had their own little uses, but honestly, did he truly need so many? I just don't think so.

And I think Dumbledore must have noticed my unnecessary gawking as I entered his office because he smiled and started looking at his trinkets rather affectionately as he told me, "One can never have too many useful gadgets, Miss Evans."

Useful? USEFUL? He called some of those things useful?

But of course I couldn't tell him that, so I just sat there, nodding like the idiot that I am. Maybe one day I'll actually ask Dumbledore why he chose me as Head Girl, because I truly am a complete idiot. Maybe he figured he'd be most comfortable with someone as equally insane as he is. Well, if so, he found her.

"Before we begin our meeting," Dumbledore started, glancing meaningfully at Potter (who I was ignoring wonderfully, might I add) and me, "I must first congratulate the both of you for achieving this high position. It's not an easy job, being Head students, but I'm sure the both of you will fulfill the duties wonderfully."

Wonderfully? Me and Potter?

Oh, yeah. Barking mad, this one.

Potter and I murmured our thanks as Dumbledore began fiddling with one of the trinkets on his desk. His fingers wiped lightly at this small, bowl shaped piece of metal with lots of rods and balls sticking out of it. It was a rather odd-looking thing and it made me wonder what it's actually used for. It didn't look like it could be used for much.

"Miss Evans, Mr. Potter." He said our names so formally, so seriously, that a set of chills ran down my spine and I snapped my glance away from the gadget. Dumbledore looked as serious as he sounded. "There are going to be things said tonight-- and other nights as well-- that you may or may not know or want to hear. Some of them may be petty things, like schedules and prefects, but others," he paused here, taking a deep breath. "Others may be vital. Others, like the issue of Voldemort."

Voldemort.

I suppose it's odd, me not mentioning Voldemort before, but I try not to think about him and all the disaster and destruction the man the wizarding world refers to as You-Know-Who has been causing. It's not so much that I'm not afraid of what this... this thing, is doing. On the contrary actually, I'm a Muggle-born and am affected more than many of the other wizards and witches my age. But that's just the thing, isn't it? I'm Muggle-born. As much as I hate to admit it, I just don't... know enough. I don't have the thousands of generations of purebloods fighting the Muggle-borns instilled in my head from birth. I never got to see the separation between certain pureblooded families over the great blood debate. I simply lived in my own safe haven until the age of eleven when I was thrown into all of this unawares. How can you be afraid of a name when you don't really understand what the whole thing is about?

Not that I'm not doing all by best to help the situation. I am, after all, studying to become an Auror.

However, despite all my ignorance on the subject, I suppose I was still a bit startled when Dumbledore mentioned his name. You don't hear it used often. Dumbledore caught my reaction and nodded his head understandingly.

"I do apologize," he said, running his fingers along the bowl and rod trinket once more. "I'm not trying to frighten either of you. If I didn't believe that the both of you could withstand the burden of hearing such news, I would not be telling you. But part of the reason you are both sitting here today is because your professors and I believe that you are both able to endure these things. The times are getting worse, and you, as Head students, need to be able to take control of your school if certain dire situations commence." He stopped again, lowering his voice and looking out of the top of his half-frame spectacles. "Do you both understand what I'm saying?"

I didn't want to nod, but I did anyway. What did he mean, 'do you understand'? No, I most certainly did not. I mean, sure, I now know why Potter was chosen for Head Boy as oppose to Amos--everyone knows that fighting the dark arts run in his family. In fact, I think both his parents are Aurors--but really, me? Sure, I know all the Charms and spells and such, but in 'dire situations'? I just don't know. Maybe I shouldn't even be trying to become an Auror. Seriously. If you think about it, I'm really just too immature. I mean, I sit and complain all day long about my mates and my life and am really just completely oblivious to everything. Not exactly Auror material. I'd die within ten seconds.

"Sir? I have a question, if you don't mind me asking?" This was from Potter.

Dumbledore nodded. "Of course."

"Well, the thing is, it's not like this is the first year that Voldemort's been raving havoc--my parents have been chasing after him for years. So why this year? Why pick us now? I hope you don't mind me saying, but last year's Head Boy was Rabastan Lestrange, and everyone knows the Lestranges are mind set in their prejudices."

Now was that an Aurorish question, or what? Obviously Dumbledore thought so too, because although he sighed, you could tell that he was hiding a smile. Why does Potter of all people have to have the Auror genes? Why not me? Why can't I just stand a bit of a chance? Compared to him, I might as well be dirt on the floor.

"Sometimes I think you're a bit too clever for your own good, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling. I expected Potter to smile smugly at the compliment, but his face remained serious. Dumbledore sighed once more and continued on, "But alas, you are correct. Last year's Head students were not chosen for the same reasons you both were, and I apologise for my lack of information, but I'm not able to answer your question just yet. There are some things an old man just needs to keep to himself. At least for now."

Honestly, what a silly answer. I mean, doesn't he realise that that just gets us more intrigued? I've never thought Dumbledore an unintelligent person--quite the opposite actually--but really! That was so ridiculous.

Well, after that, the subject was changed rather abruptly. Dumbledore obviously didn't want any more of Potter's clever questions, and I for one, obliged full-heartedly. I mean, I really couldn't let the bloke make an idiot out of me by asking all these intelligent questions while I merely sat there and looked pretty (which I wouldn't have been able to do anyway), could I?

Head Girl, Shmed Girl, I truly am just an idiot with a badge.

So after discussing prefects and house points for ten minutes, Dumbledore finally let us go. I'm not going to lie and say that I wasn't relieved when I could finally get up out of my seat and leave that office.

Potter and I left together and started to make the trek back to Gryffindor Tower.

And even though I had promised myself a thousand times over that I would never ever ever talk to Potter ever again, as we walked through the corridors side by side, the silence becoming completely uncomfortable, I found myself unable to remain quiet for much longer.

I blame this fully on my shaken-up disposition and over-fatigued body.

"Well that was interesting, eh?'

The words echoed off the walls in the silent corridor, making them seem a lot louder than they had actually been spoken. At first it seemed as if he hadn't heard me, but then, suddenly, Potter stopped abruptly, causing me to stop as well.

And he just looked at me.

I mean, really looked at me. Like he was analyzing me or something. I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, not knowing exactly what was going on. What was he doing? What did he expect to accomplish by just staring at me like that? What was going on?

But then, before I had a chance to figure out just what was going on, his analyzing glance turned into one extremely dirty look.

Oh, boy.

"Oh, so now you want to talk?" he snapped, his eyes narrowing. I held back a wince, figuring I probably deserved that. I did, after all, pour a pitcher of pumpkin juice over his head. And ignored his notes. Both of which he most definitely deserved, but maybe not the most mature thing to do on my part.

"You don't have to be so nasty!" I snapped back, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Don't have to be so nasty?" Potter repeated, the anger and revulsion evident in his voice. "Don't have to be so nasty? Are you that fucking diluted, Evans? Are you that completely out of it? Have you placed yourself so far above the rest of us that your entire head is in the clouds?" He let out a disgusted snort. "Just leave me the fuck alone, will you, Evans? I've had enough of you."

I was frozen in shock. I couldn't move. My mind was reeling.

What in the name of all that is magical was that?

I mean, I suppose he was obviously cross with me for not realising that his notes were actually notes and not just bits of parchment rolled up into balls solely for my entertainment, but seriously, what was with the sudden lash of viciousness? I know I always complain about Potter being mean to me and all, but in all actuality, he was never really mean mean. He's always actually been more of an annoyance than he was an actual bully. At least to me, anyway. He'd mostly just tease me to get on my nerves-- doing his little suggestive jibes like asking me out because he knew no one else would or teasing me about always going to Hogsmeade with Grace and Emma-- but he would never be really...nasty. Like how he is to Snape.

But the way he was looking at me just then, I might as well have been Snape.

So I just stood there in shock, watching Potter storm off down the corridor, completely baffled by what had just happened.

And do you know what? When I told Grace all about it when I finally got back to Gryffindor Tower (Emma wasn't there again. She was with her boyfriend), Grace wasn't surprised at all.

"Well, of course he lashed out at you, Lily! He's completely cross with you!"

"Because I wouldn't answer his notes?" I asked, still confused. "But I didn't know they were notes! And even if I did, doesn't that seem a bit petty to be so viciously cross with me over some silly unreturned words? Or was it the pumpkin juice? But even that would be silly! He had all of it cleaned off by first class anyway! That's just stupid."

Which it definitely was. People shouldn't be as nasty as Potter was being just because a girl had a bit of an idiot moment and accidentally thought his notes were equipment for a new game, or because she had finally had enough of his badgering and had decided he needed a little cooling off. Some blokes just need to grow up.

"No, no, no," Grace scoffed, shaking her head. "It has nothing to do with that. He's cross with you for another reason."

Another reason? What?

"What the hell else did I do to him?"

Grace sighed, acting as if she were talking to a small, stupid child rather than her seventeen-year-old best mate. "Listen, Lil," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "That's not for me to tell you and you know it. If you're so interested, you might want to ask him, don't you think?"

Ask him? ASK HIM? Is she kidding? And risk another lashing like the one I received before, with all the swearing, the insults and the "leave me alone"s? I think not.

So that was my night.

I can't believe he's actually cross with me. That's so not fair. I mean, seriously, there's definitely something wrong with this situation. I'm supposed to be the one who's cross with him, not the other way around! Or did he suddenly forget about a certain green-glob incident that took place last week? Why does he have to invade on my cross time?

What a stupid, stupid wanker.