Memoirs of a Pixie

RED LETTER DAYS

1st September, Thursday

Dumbledore's Office

After the Inaugural Feast

Current Activity: Somersaulting in Perplexity

Word of the Day: Sphinx (= a person whose real thoughts cannot be guessed a.k.a. Dumbledore)

In which Puck establishes that Merlin and Dumbledore are brothers.

I always wonder whether Merlin and Dumbledore are related.

The same long white beards, bright twinkling eyes, obsession over a Pensieve, and appalling dress sense.

They both have long fingers that click together when in deep thought.

They also have this annoying trait of the Sphinx in them, which makes me think that their gene pool must be linked.

"Would you like a sherbet-lemon, Lily?" asked Dumbledore. "I'm rather fond of the muggle sweet; it reminds me of the lemonade my Aunt Wilhelmina used to make."

See?

Another similarity between Merlin and Dumbledore.

They both have weird taste buds.

Lily took the offered confectionery with trembling hands. She'll probably be scrubbing her teeth like mad afterwards, but she's just incapable of saying NO to a 140-year old man who likes tenpin bowling and who collects Chocolate Frog Cards.

"I hope you will forgive me for mentioning it Lily," said Dumbledore, "but I'm pleased and a little proud of how well you have been coping with your parents' death last Christmas in that gruesome car accident."

Bah!

COPING WELL, did you say, you barmy old codger!?

Refusing meals, staring blankly at the wall for hours on end, not talking to anyone, not even batting an eyelid even when I threw a plate of porridge at her...

"You are staying with your grandfather now, are you not?" he asked again, and Lily nodded.

A knock on the door later, a tall, lanky boy stepped into the office with a Headboy Badge pinned to his shirt.

A boy who was fiddling with his tie, and was casually chewing Droobles' Blowing Gum.

BILLIONS OF BLUE BLISTERING BARNACLES!

JAMES POTTER is the new Headboy!

Dumbledore has definitely gone bananas.

Perhaps honey-topped and marshmallow-whipped as well.

Oh Potter, you rotter!

You who show respect for authorities by blowing gum at their faces, you who happens to be a Troll in disguise, a trigger-happy Diplodocus, you who are a gibbering Anthropoid...Tell me, you Pirate! How did you manage to steal Remus Lupin's badge even though its been cursed with an Intruderblast Jinx (I should know, since I was a victim to it)?

No, wait.

Even POTTER doesn't have the gall to try such a dastardly trick with ALBUS DUMBLEDORE.

"I am pleased to inform that this year's Heads are James Potter and Lily Evans - both from Gryffindor," announced Dumbledore. "both highly responsible, fair, intelligent and capable students, in voting for whom we had absolute unanimity."

Is he talking about James Potter as well?

TEN THOUSAND THUNDERING TYPHOONS!

I suppose he thinks its funny, giving me a cardiac stroke like that, and then making me crack a rib from laughter?

I looked at Potter, who was still standing motionless by the door, like one of Dumbledore's gargoyles.

Potter was staring at Lily unreservedly, as if he wanted to gobble her up, and Lily was avoiding his glance determinedly.

Really, staring should be BANNED.

"Won't you please take a seat, James?" asked Dumbledore, the corners of his snow-white moustache twitching.

Finally, as if he would like nothing better than to eat up my poor girl, the Greatest-Git-in-the-World decided to condescend.

"As the Headboy and Headgirl of Hogwarts," said Dumbledore, "you have a formidable task ahead of you, Supervising the security of the school, the treasury and the yearly budget, examinations and career counselings, detentions, tuitions, school equipment supplies...and the list goes on --"

And ON and ON and ON and ON (judging by the thickness of the book McGonagall sent to Lily).

"-- You also have your approaching NEWTs, and you will have a tough time juggling your duties and academics. But you are your school's representatives, and we expect you to uphold all the dignity of your post and the glory of your school."

So, no pressure there, Lilykins.

"Dark times are upon us," continued Dumbledore. "The prejudice against muggles and muggleborns is spreading like wildfire, but it must not infiltrate Hogwarts. The war raging outside must remain outside."

"Pardon me for interrupting Professor," said Potter suddenly, and I was amazed to hear the harsh tone of his voice, "but the school is not devoid of such prejudices. It would be living in Fool's Paradise to imagine that muggleborns inside the school are safe. There have been numerous such instances in the past that -"

"And that is why you have been appointed, James," said DD gently. "To ensure that such instances do not repeat themselves."

Potter flushed.

I was impressed (only slightly) in spite of myself.

James Potter was actually being MATURE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What was the world coming to?

Lily was obviously thinking along the same lines, because she was no longer looking at Dumbledore, but staring at Potter in unflattering disbelief.

I have always thought that Lily's eyes have some kind of magnet in them.

And so, I was not at all surprised when Potter's eyes sprang to her immediately.

As I said, he really looks like he wants to devour her, the CANNIBAL.

Apparently Lily thought so as well, so she quickly averted her eyes.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "On a lighter note, I recall a joke my dear friend Nicholas Flamel was telling me the other day. It's about a hag, a vampire, and a healer who all get together in a bar and -"

It's OFFICIAL.

Merlin and Dumbledore are long-lost brothers, who got separated because Merlin was abducted by the deadly Yellow-Glove Gang while dancing with a frog in the Festival of Fools, and was sent back in time by Grindelwald for wearing smelly red socks that didn't match the colour of his shiny purple robes.

Not.

But at least they're both insane.

Doesn't it prove that their DNA is linked?

**********

1^st September, Thursday, Night

Gryffindor Girls' Dormitory

Current Activity: Watching the girls unpack

In which Puck learns the Importance of Being a Tart.

It's always a ball, watching the girls unpack. All the goodies that their parents send along, the smell of detergent from their freshly laundered clothes, socks to shred, chocolates to borrow, inkpots to fling, trunks to upend..............

Ahem!

Lily's just immobilized me with a Freezing Charm -- that girl is really getting too big for her wand.

"Merlin, I'm so tired," said Hestia Jones, yawning wide enough to show me all the celery sticking to her molars. "Why can't we unpack tomorrow?"

"Because you are a messy forgetful nerd who always leaves everything for the last minute, and then ends up regretting it?" asked the haughty Emmeline Vance, admiring herself in her Goblin-made hand mirror.

Tut, tut, Miss Vanity Vance. The first night back, and she's already demeriting her best friend.

A loud crash tells me that Hurricane Hestia has just tripped over her tuck box.

"Oh, Hestia!" exclaimed Jane Stebbins, rushing forward to help up her friend.

"I'm alright!" said Hestia, even though she was now sporting a large throbbing bruise on her forehead. "You'd think I'd be used to bruises and injuries by now, they follow me like my shadow! I am SUCH a clumsy clod!"

Hear, hear.

"Hush now!" said Jane soothingly to her weeping friend. "You go and change into your nightdress, I'll unpack for you. You always forget where you arrange things anyway; so it's better if I'm the one in charge."

Now that's our Jane.

Always helping others, always comforting others, always enlisting her services, always supplying me with a fresh batch of my favourite Mintcookies...

"What's up with our dear Headgirl?" said Miss Emmeline the Vain, looking at Lily, who was gazing at the portrait of Healer Pura Cervantes so intensely that one would think she had to write a thesis on it. "You've been off in the Ozone ever since you got back from Dumbledore's Office."

Why, thank you, Captain Obvious!

No, I'm alright," said Lily, waking up from her reverie. "It's just that James Potter as a Headboy comes as a bit of a shock."

.... And the Biggest-Understatement-Of-The-Year Award goes to Lily Evans!

"I thought that the Heads of the school had a different wing allotted to them?" asked Hestia, who had now returned from the bathroom.

Lily squeaked.

I know. She actually SQUEAKED! She NEVER squeaks!

"Well, er, you see," stammered Lily, flushing to the roots of her hair. "I couldn't stand being in the same wing as Potter, so I decided to settle over here. You don't mind, do you?"

Emmeline raised her eyebrow at Lily.

Hestia raised her eyebrow at Lily.

Jane raised her eyebrow at Lily.

I raised my eyebrow at Lily.

"Do you really have to ask?" said dear, sweet Jane, counting the number of towels Hestia had brought along. (Yes, you're counting correctly, Jane. That's eleven towels; I threw the twelfth one out of the window.) "Besides, Potter would have probably unleashed a Stink Pellet at you in the dark of the night. So, you're safe from him here."

Lily nodded her head emphatically, but I noticed that the other girls were sending each other odd furtive looks and smiles that struck me as ominous.

"Not to mention that Elphias Doge would throw a fit if he saw you living so near another boy," said Emmeline, sniggering.

Once again, Miss Vance, you are observant past comparison.

"I think Elphias and you should have a talk," said Hestia, plopping down loudly on her bed. "He's really getting too possessive of you. It's suffocating when boyfriends get like that. I met him in Diagon Alley, and he told me to warn you against flirting with Vernon, or he'd lock you in the Vanishing Cabinet."

I spluttered in indignation, as Jane and Emmeline neighed with laughter.

SEVEN HUNDRED SUFFERING SAMURAIS!

As if Lily could ever ogle Vernon Dursley --- the Elephant-cum-Hippogriff-cum-Killerwhale who has four chins, two left feet, one whip and absolutely NO neck!

"I don't have to fear Elphias' paranoia anymore," said Lily quietly. "I broke up with him during the summer hols."

Emmeline's jaw dropped till it nearly reached her knee and I am pleased to say that she looked rather like a gargoyle then. "You did?" she asked, sitting up straighter. "How did he take it?"

"Not very well," said Lily, sighing.

NOT VERY WELL?

Really! Lily seems to specialize in understatements.

Let me inform you, Reader, that Elphias Doge acted like a complete loser!

First he raged at Lily, accusing her of cheating on him with half the boys of London. Then he shook her and cried and cried, till his voice became wheezy and I feared he would flood the room. Then when Lily refused to bend to his threats of murder, he raised his hand to slap her, and he'd probably have done so too, if I hadn't bitten his thumb.

"Don't you go feeling sorry for Elphias, now," warned Jane, because she had noticed Lily's eyes well up with tears. "Have you forgotten how he punched Sturgis Podmore - his BEST FRIEND - for shaking hands with you?"

Doge. The Bloody Cro-Magnon!

"Or that he hexed Remus all because he had smiled at you in Herbology Class?" said Hestia, beating her head with her pillow.

Doge. The Macrocephalic BABOON!

"You are well rid of him, Lily," said Emmeline, vigorously combing her long black tresses. "You don't need a Clinging Vine. Just because he has Veela blood in him, has beautiful silver-blonde hair, and is the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, it doesn't mean that he is without faults."

This proclamation can mean only one thing.

Emmeline Vance's next prey is Elphias Doge!

After all, every one of Lily's ex-paramours has ended up in Miss Vanity's arms. The tart!

A soft 'thud' tells me that Hurricane Hestia has just toppled off her bed.

**********

5^th September, Monday, Break of dawn

The Hogwarts Owlery

Current Activity: Watching Lily read her Grandfather's Letter for the seventeenth time (and teasing Athena, the only Barn owl in the Owlery)

Word of the Day: Neb (= beak, as in Athena's poke into my butt)

In which Puck swears Never to Poke a Sleeping Owl again

My dear sweet child

Hope you have tucked in comfortably and are currently not sulking around in the owlery.

Petunia has just gone out on one of her shopping sprees, and will probably come home bankrupt, but I mustn't get my hopes too high.

And before you start to wonder, I returned from my Safari yesterday. Madagacscar is the most beautiful place in the world. Dr. Pauncefoot and I had a whale of a time there, studying anthills and butterflies, going on scuba diving and fishing expeditions.

We found a poor destitute porcupine hiding under our jeep one day, and Pauncefoot and I had a massive row over who would get to own it. A toss of coin and many drinks later, I adopted the porcupine and have now brought him home with me. Spikey, I call him. True, he becomes a tad uncomfortable to sleep with, but I suppose that's part of his charm.

I've kept my promise, haven't I? I said I wouldn't bring back a lion as a souvenir, and I haven't! Now, how about you keeping your promise, and sending me that flask of Shrinking Solution? No funny business, I swear, strictly for research.

Anyway, when I returned from my Safari, I found a most interesting letter waiting for me at the table.

A letter from yet another one of your admirers.

I must say, I was really getting tired of analyzing your fanmail, but this time it was worth the trouble. He seems a most charming fellow!

He told me all about a stag that he owned, and I was quite jealous of the chap.

He wrote that he was one of your classmates at Hogwarts, and gave me a full blow-by-blow account of the Quidditch World Cup. His letter was about twenty pages long, but it was enjoyable and very enlightening.

For example, did you know that the Holyhead Harpies is the first All-Girls Quidditch Team? Now that's called Women's Emancipation!

Your Secret Admirer also told me that he was going to marry my granddaughter and be the father of her children (at least ten of them), even though she is currently unaware of his intentions.

Howdy Dowdy!

I really do hope he manages to snag Petunia. Vernon Dursley is really not grandson-in-law material.

Missing you terribly

Your old and loony Grandpa

P.S. Could you please write to Dr. Pauncefoot? He's not talking to me these days. And do tell him also not to sue a case against me. Spikey is MY property; he was hiding under MY jeep; so what if Pauncefoot saw him first?

**********

5^th September, Monday

After leaving the Owlery

Current Activity: Getting struck by unscrupulous branches

In which Puck is insulted and swears revenge

I can think of a million better things to do right now.

#1) I could be borrowing Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans from Hurricane Hestia's cupboard and substituting them with pebbles.

#2) I could be breaking glass windows along with Peeves.

#3) I could be showering Mrs. Norris with fleas.

#4) Better still, I could be snoring peacefully in my tiny crib next to Lily's bed.

But instead, I am supposed to be Lily's bodyguard as she takes her customary MORNING WALK along the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest at an ungodly 5 A.M. of the morning.

"Come on, Puck! Hurry up!"

Yes, Reader.

She calls me Puck -- after a mischievous character in one of those idiotic Shakespeare's plays she so loves, who lived on Pook's Hill and messed up the love lives of several innocent civilians.

What a daft idea, giving a name like that to a pixie!

But I suppose I can't nip her ear for such a sacrilege, for then she won't disentangle me from this cobweb?

"What a glorious morning for a walk, eh Puck?" she asked me, as her hands freed me from my bondage.

Call this a GLORIOUS WALK?

Scrambling between theses ruddy tree branches and cobwebs, wading through dusty leaves, hobnobbing with pestilential inhospitable beaky birds...All right for HER, with her wand and her dragon hide boots, but if this goes on, I will have no wings left!

And what's it all in aid of, I ask you?

A broken neck, a cramped ankle...Forests should be legally abolished, all those bats and bees nesting in them!

"Now I wonder who sent that letter to Grandpa?" muttered Lily, apparently unaware of my growing fury.

"He's got to be an avid Quidditch fan, and someone who owns a stag...."

Gah! Even Peter Pettigrew could have told us that! And it's not the first time some admirer has written to her or her family members.

Oh, yeah! Lily's had her share of stalkers, all right. Yes, indeed.

There was Timothy Sawyer in Nursery School who sent Lily that atrocious Valentine's Day Card. And Garret Gates who blew kisses at her at the bus stop till she came crying home. Then, there was John Stebbins (Jane's twin brother) who claimed she was his sunrise and his sunset. There was Brandon Shaw who leapt at her whenever they passed each other in corridors. Not to mention the time when the Giant Squid tried to pull her into the lake!

And, of course.

There was Pighead Pothead Puffhead Pesthead Potter who tugged at her hair/ kept trying to hug her/ called her Carrot-top, Braid Birdie and Emerald-eyed Evans/ and asked her out every time he saw her.

I turned around at the 'swooshing' sound behind me.

Well, well, well. Speak of the devil.

"Good morning Lily," said James Potter, his broomstick in one hand, and made Lily jump out of her skin.

FORTY-FOUR FLAMING FUJIYAMAS!

Did he just call her Lily? He NEVER calls her by her first name! After all the years of epithets that he has given to her, he has suddenly switched over to a first name basis!

Not.

It must be the branch I had crashed into.

These BLASTED morning walks! I knew they would impair my hearing.

He grinned at her, but I am proud to say she did not return the favour.

"Taking the usual morning walk, I see," said Potter, grin slightly waning.

"Er, yes," said Lily awkwardly. I suppose she's still trying to adjust to the fact that this Odd-toed Ungulate is her new coworker. "You on your usual freedom ride?"

"Yes," said Potter. "Flying always helps in getting rid of stress. And God knows, this year is going to have enough of that."

"Well, then", said Lily. "Don't let me distract you."

He gave her a very odd smile then, like he was seeing a miracle that she couldn't. It's really very irritating when somebody adopts that kind of visionary far-sightedness.

"Chickening out again, Lily?" he said softly, as Lily started to move away.

Lily whipped around in shock.

You churlish sandbag! How dare you take her first name from your unworthy lips! How dare you call her chicken! Chickens are rude, and noisy, and interfering, and weak-hearted and --

"Exactly why did you call me chicken, Potter?" asked Lily, surprise written large over her face.

Precisely.

"You have been avoiding me lately," said Potter, his eyes boring into her, and once again he looked as he wanted to roast her on a stove, and eat her up with mint sauce. "After Dumbledore's Office Meeting, I tried calling you back, but you didn't once look back. Every time I see you in the corridor, you run away as if I were the plague. You don't reply when I greet you - with the exception of today - and you ignore me at the Prefect Meetings, even when I'm asking suggestions from you."

"It's all a matter of coincidence, and your hyperactive imagination, Potter," said Lily coolly. "I've been busy, your suggestions were silly, and I am slightly hard of hearing."

Potter once again graced her with his arrogant smirk.

"I think you are afraid of me," he said softly.

Lily snorted. "And why would I be afraid of you?"

Potter didn't say anything.

That's because he didn't have an answer.

That leech-livered bandicoot.

"You haven't moved into the Headgirl Chamber yet," he said, after staring at her long enough to make my blood boil.

"I want to spend my last year with my friends," said Lily, giving him an icy glare.

Predictably, Potter's smirk widened.

"Your friends can always meet you there," said Potter. "It would be much easier if you moved in...We - as the Heads - have so much to discuss and plan. It would be very convenient if we were in close proximity to each other. Come on. Please?"

"How many times must we go through this? When I say no, I mean NO, Potter," said Lily, with a toss of her magnificent hair. "You of all people should know that."

Potter flushed. "Well, it is McGonagall's orders, not mine," said Potter.

"I'll tell McGonagall my condition. You don't have to meddle," said Lily, now beginning to glare at him.

"So you won't move into the Head Chamber?" said Potter, and Lily shook her head. "Not even if I tell McGonagall that your little Imp of a buddy - that stupid creature you call Puck - tore the OWLs Marksheet yesterday?"

BILLIONS OF BLUE BLISTERING BARNACLES!

Did he just call me an IMP?

Me, the last man standing of the Monarch Cornish Pixies of Wessex? Me, the sole survivor of the War of the Sardinian Sorcerers? Me, the only spectator of the rich legacy of Merlin and Circe and Agrippa? Me, in whose veins runs the blue blood of Figaro and Titania of the Fairyfolk of Lilliput!

To compare me to a common mothball! To call me an IMP?

Why you, POTTER!

MEGALOMANIAC! SEAGHERKIN! DIPSOMANIAC! BASHIBAZOUK! NARCOLEPTIC! DORYPHORE! COLOCYNTHIC! TROGLODYTE! ECTOPLASMIC! GOBBLEDYGOOK! DIPSOMANIAC! DIPLODOCUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you! POTTER, I HATE YOU!

"First of all, Potter," said Lily furiously. "It was PEEVES who tore up McGonagall's Marksheet, not Puck!

Secondly, no amount of blackmail will make me shift into the room next to YOU!"

Thank You, Lily! Thank you!

But what about the fact that I am NOT AN IMP!???

"Thirdly, Potter," said Lily, "let me warn you. Don't go crossing Puck, you will rue it."

Oh, yes.

Devilish tricky little blighter I can be.

And I am NOT AN IMP!!!

"A little imp like that?" snorted Potter. "Yeah, right."

FOR THE LAST TIME POTTER! I AM NOT AN IMP!

"You truly are scared of me, Lily. You probably think that I'm going to prank you. This is just another excuse to avoid me. Even now, you look as if you want to run away. Why can't we ever have a decent conversation without you blowing up at me or scatting away? I am really not that horrible, and I stopped hexing people ages ago," said that Abominable Potter, his voice suddenly harsh and jagged.

"I am not scared of you, Potter!" said Lily huffily.

"Prove it", said Potter smugly, his face shining with greasy sweat. "Move into the Heads Chamber with me."

Oh NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!!

This is not good! This is SO NOT GOOD!

There are 4 ways Potter can make Lily say No -

#1) Flirt with her.

#2) Beg her.

#3) Order her.

#4) Blackmail her.

But if he goes challenging her, she just won't stay low. Her self-pride just won't take it.

And she will end up saying yes.

It's her ACHILLES' HEEL, I tell you!

It seems Potter has finally realized this weakness of hers.

"I dare you, Lily," said Potter, and took off on his dilapidated derogatory broomstick.

Merlin, save me!

I don't want to spend a whole year within twenty yards of that imbecile infantile inflammatory Potter!

Lily must be restrained AT ALL COSTS!

**********

6^th September, Tuesday

In the Passage behind the Tapestry of Quasimodo the Queer

Current Activity: Raising a lantern so that Lily may read her letter

Word of the Day: Claustrophobia (= fear of enclosed spaces, for they seem to suffocate me)

In which Puck appreciates the good sense of a certain someone

If you are wondering why Lily has chosen this highly uncomfortable hideout for reading her letter, wonder no more.

It's because that PEST of a POTTER has suddenly taken to mouthing words at her during classes, following her everywhere and hinting heavily about a Chicken who had green eyes, had a phobia of Quidditch players and owned an imp.

How can anyone be so irritating?

I am NOT an imp!

Can anyone blame Lily if has develop a phobia of James Potter?

Well, to speak of better things, the following letter arrived this morning in a lavender scented envelope.

My Dearest Lily

I'm currently not in the mood for writing any preamble, and I'm sure Mr. Evans Sr. has already made enough introductions. (I am that same lovesick baboon who wrote to your grandfather.)

I am writing this letter to you because I just can't keep bottling up my feelings any longer.

You are quite merciless, do you know that? Smiling like that and making me wobble in my knees.

Your Puck is a most interesting fellow. Not to mention extremely good-looking, he's the only one who can give you competition, you know. They don't make Pixies that intelligent and well mannered anymore!

How beautiful you looked yesterday morning as you read your grandfather's letter for the seventeenth time!

You should let your hair loose more often, it becomes you. It's distracting for a bloke like me, no doubt, but it's nothing short of a crime to deprive your most ardent admirer of marveling at it.

Who knows, your wisps may accidentally brush by me in the corridors.

Last year, when we had to study Amortentia, do you know what it smelt like to me?

It was a mixture of peppermint and crushed pine needles and jasmines and musk - the same mesmerizing perfume you always seem to carry with you. I won't say that you smell like lilies, because I know how you hate namepuns.

I hope my letter does not distress you; it would be the greatest failure of my life if I saw but one tear in your divine eyes.

You beautiful, agonizing creature!

Till I write to you again.

Completely Despairingly Gaga over you

Your Humble Devotee

P.S. -- I've kissed the letter five times, so that your hands, at least, may feel my lips.

Lily dropped the letter as if her hands were burning.

I frowned at her.

Really, you silly child.

Was it so horrible to be touched by the lips of such a fascinating young man who writes such beautiful letters and possesses such flawless calligraphy?

Now that's what is called true good breeding.

He has sense enough to take your grandfather's permission first, and only then write to you.

He has sense enough to identify your smell, and to remember how you hate puns.

He has sense enough to count the number of times you read a letter.

He has sense enough to distinguish between a Pixie and an Imp.

Unlike some other people I know.

**********

In the empty History of Magic classroom

7^th September, Wednesday

Current Activity: Helping Lily memorize the names of the Banshees of the 18^th century I-Scream-You-Scream Séance.

Word of the Day: Barbecued (=grilled, such as the Banshee who claimed the Right to Silence.)

In which Puck decides that some giraffes may be carnivorous.

So how do I help Lily in memorizing her school notes?

Well, it's like this.

She picks up a topic from anywhere in the book, and recounts all that she knows about it, while I check if she's missed out any points, or if she's given any wrong answers.

If she's correct (whish she usually is), I give her my Thumbs-Up.

If she's incorrect, I throw the book at her.

Smart, ain't I?

Its great fun, for she never scowls at me when I hit her, but laughs. It's good to have at least ONE owner who doesn't lash at you for showing him his mistakes.

But today she didn't laugh when I aimed the Fanged Frisbee at her. She's just sitting there like stone, staring at the blackboard, as if she wants Binns to come out of it.

I stared at the notebook in my hand.

Dinah the Din-maker (1745-1767)

She was the Chieftain of the Banshees of Berkley who screamed for twenty-eight days at a stretch on Maroon Island, till the sailors at the harbour fainted to death. The Ministry of Noise pollution did not take charges against the Banshees because Dinah threatened to "Sing" to them if they dared to hex a single vocal cord of her larynx.

Thankfully, Dinah did not live long after the ugly episode, and met her death at the hands of a retired deaf Auror...

Okay.

So, now to show Lily the picture of Dinah from her Frog Cards Collection (in which Dinah is sneezing rather violently), and I'll be ready to inspect Lily's answer.

I waved the card to her face.

"Cut it out, Puck!" she cried out, jumping so hard you'd think I had hammered her knuckles to a squashy pulp. "Didn't I say that I didn't want to continue this tutoring? Didn't I positively say that I'm fed up of Banshees and Silencing charms? Didn't I say that I no longer want to continue History of Magic NEWTs? Didn't I say that you are not to throw notebooks and inkpots and Frisbees at me? When I say no, it means NO, do you hear? And no amount of begging, or blackmailing will ever change my mind! I will not fall for your tricks! Oh, no, I won't!"

I cowered behind the desk, shaking with fright.

I had never been on the receiving end of her temper tirade before.

It was terrifying.

I had seen Lily this angry only twice. The first time was when Bumstead the Bully in Lily's primary school had tried to make her swallow a bucket of paint to punish her for slapping him. And the second instance was after the DADA OWLs in fifth year when she had called Potter an arrogant, bullying toerag.

Needless to add, they had both deserved her ridicule.

But me? What had I done to deserve her anger?

She was now pacing about the room, muttering madly to herself. I tried to stretch my ears to listen more closely.

"Blast him!" she said. "What makes him think that I will succumb to his vile schemes? I told him I wanted to be with my friends, but even that reason wasn't enough for him! First he stalks me, and then he challenges me! What am I, his showgirl? I will simply not --- "

Ah, so this is what it's about.

Ruddy Potter and his dare.

I should have known that only Potter can get Lily angry like this, that only Potter can induce her to take out her anger on ME!

Why is Potter so bent upon making my life a milling inferno?

Tap. Tap. Tap.

I looked around in my helpless rage to find a monstrously large black owl catwalking on the teacher's desk. I recognized it immediately. It was the same school owl that Lily always used to deliver her letters to her family.

Now what was that featherbrain doing here? Didn't I tell her ages ago that I wasn't jealous of Lily's attentions to her? Didn't I tell her that I was far better looking than her, and that it was a futile hope that Lily would ever exchange a Pixie like me for an owl like her? Didn't I tell her not to show off?

"A letter from Petunia!" cried Lily excitedly, all her anger forgotten. She stroked the stupid ugly owl as she freed the letter from her claws, and the old dingbat had the nerve to hoot at me.

But I put aside my pride, and giving a very dirty look to the blasted bird, leaned closer to read.

My Very Un-dear Abnormal sister

I've said it before, and I'm saying it again.

I do not wish to have any contact with you or the other freaks of your world.

I do not want to have a sister who makes friends with werewolves and giants.

I do not want owls swooping down on me, and shedding their feathers and do-do on my dressing table.

I do not want letters from YOUR secret admirers, lecturing ME on how an ideal sister-in-law should behave.

I do not want to associate with the stigma that is Lily Evans.

Now, if you will excuse me, Vernon is waiting for me in the lounge.

Go get a life, you UGLY MAGGOT!

Or do everyone a favour, and shave off that ridiculously-red hair of yours.

Maybe then you'll be able to snag a real boyfriend, who will take pity on you and marry you.

Scoffing mercilessly at you

Petunia

P.S. Tell this love-blind fan of yours that red hair is NOT a temptation.

P.P.S. Also tell this stupid fan of yours that the giraffe in Africa has no resemblance to me. So there!

That miserable collection of bones and horses' dung! That SCARECROW of a girl!

How could Petunia be so cold and cruel to her only sister? Yes, I had always known she had too much of a neck and too little of a brain, but this letter proved that she had absolutely no heart! Had jealousy now made her so desperate that she was willing to break all ties with Lily?

So Lily is a stigma, is she? And what are you, you NANNYGOAT, eh? I suppose you're a gift from heaven?

And what was that dig about Lily being ugly and not having a real boyfriend?

Gah!

You MISERABLE MOLECULE OF MILDEW! Take a peep into your mirror; I believe you will find a crack in the center if you look closely enough.

And just in case you didn't notice, wasn't this letter about Lily's admirer who thinks red hair looks tempting?

Keep writing letters like that, and maybe someone will take pity on you and cart you off to St. Mungo's. That will do everyone a favour.

Oh, and by the way.

You DO look like a giraffe, except for two very important differences:

#1) Even giraffes are smarter than you.

#2) Giraffes are herbivorous, while you eat out people's hearts.

So there!

My poor Lily was now sobbing bitterly, as if each sob was a fresh stab to her heart. The letter lay crumpled and forgotten on the floor, but not before having caused enough damage, and I was at a complete loss about how to console her. I merely watched her in compassionate silence as tear after tear slipped across my head and unto her knee.

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A/N:

You there.... You have a very bad habit, you know? Reading but NOT Reviewing!

Do let me know your opinions about the story. -__-