The Epic Tale of the Hogwarts Food-fight

Today, hypothetical anonymous reader, I am exceedingly joyful. This is the best day of the year! Do you want to know why? Because today is Friday, February 20th and tomorrow I will not be here to tell you what day it is. Isn't that just marvelous? I have one whole Potter-free weekend during which Rich will help to mend my broken mind. Notice Sophie will not be aiding in such a delicate task, for I no longer trust her to know what a brain looks like. Hers is malfunctioning. Sadly enough, she has earned her spot on my list of psychos as of this morning due to events I will recount here. The poor dear. I must say, it is alarming how the number keeps growing. Honestly, what will become of this place when I am the only sane one left?

Anyway, Rich and I were eating breakfast in the Great Hall at the Gryffindor table. Normally Sophie joins us there, but not this morning. And by the way, on a totally irrelevant note, we had blueberry muffins for breakfast (I love blueberry muffins!). She wasn't at the Hufflepuff table either. If you are Rich you won't give it second's thought and just voice out your opinion that she probably slept in late. But if you are me (which you are not) you will suspect something darker and smellier that instantly reminds you of a certain mop-headed dolt. I have instincts and warning bells when it comes to that sort of thing.

Rich went his own way to his sixth year classes and I went to first period Herbology. Sophie showed up late, but she wasn't the only one. One Sirius Black strolled in just behind her. That did certainly not promise to mean good news. Sirius Black and 'good news' do not fit in the same text, unless there are several words making explicit their contradictory relationship. While Professor Sprout expressed to us her displeasure and disappointment that we had not managed to care for the Decapitating-Dandelions she'd put us in charge of, I held an interrogation.

"Where were you at breakfast?" I demanded.

"I was just...talking to someone," Sophie said, all the while not looking at me. She stared at Professor Sprout as if she actually cared about the stupid flowers the Professor was shedding tears over. "It was nothing, really."

"Well, if it was nothing you won't mind telling me, will you?" I am so smooth. "Who were you talking to?"

She hesitated an instant before muttering, "Sirius."

My squinting eyes pierced the back of that black head she was referring to.

"About...what precisely?"

"He pulled me aside and asked if we could be friends and if I could forgive him."

I did not miss the way she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

"And you said 'yes'?" I exclaimed, unbelievingly.

"Yes, I said 'yes'. And stop acting like it's something outrageous, Lily. Don't give me that look."

"Sophie, why did you say 'yes'?"

"Because, Lily, I want to be his friend, it's that simple. Everyone is friends with them but you, just because you still have a grudge on James. That doesn't mean the rest of us can't like them or-"

"Sophie," I interrupted, "how can you act as if I shouldn't hate them. You of all people, you know what he did-"

"Okay, fine, what he did was stupid," she interrupted right back, "but he only did it because he is madly in love with you and apparently when one is madly in love they are apt to do mad things, ironically enough. You are the only one who doesn't see that-"

"Well, of course, because I don't want to see it. Who in their right mind would want that oaf in love with them-"

"They're not even half as bad as you think-"

"If they are even a sixth as bad as I think then they are still tremendously bad-"

"You are just too stubborn for your own good-"

"And I refuse not to be in regards to this subject-"

"You haven't even ever talked to him-"

"Thank the Lord for that!"

Sophie glared at me. I felt as if I should justify myself.

"Sophie, he is just...evil!" I shouted, much louder than I should have.

"Miss Evans. I will ask you to keep your voice down, or else you will earn yourself another detention and at the rate you are at, you will have to remain here over the summer," the formerly weeping Professor admonished in a sing-song voice.

Well, this is why Sophie is yet another hopeless case; because of this inexplicable defensiveness towards the Marauders, who happen to have no means of defence. Okay fine, so she likes Sirius (something which I consider impossible and/or demented) but I have the right not to like the situation, right? I mean, he helped to ruin my life; him going all...gentleman-like with my best friend will not be seen as anything good through my eyes. That is final. Besides, she is much better off without him, if I may say so myself.

I think I should just get the Epic Tale of the Hogwarts food-fight over with, before I drive myself mad as well by listening to Potter's quill scribbling away God-knows-what on his parchment. Funny. The title I've given this little story makes it sound heroic...

So, there I was, around 6:30, having been followed around the castle by Pettigrew, staring at Terry and Potter arguing wildly in between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables at dinner in the Great Hall. Well, they were gesticulating wildly. I didn't actually hear a word of the exchange and according to the account of those near them they were arguing in whispers. Don't ask, I wouldn't be able to answer.

The great big ugly baboon was waving one arm around and poking Terry in the chest forcefully with the other, looking enraged. Terry stood strong, pushing Potter's hand away and muttering things that seemed to make his opponent even more insane and far less eloquent. If that's possible, that is. People all over the hall were beginning to stare and point. McGonagall was slowly sitting up from her seat at the high table. Then Potter spluttered something, red in the face that made Terry throw his head back and laugh. That was the first sound I heard of their whole argument. Then Terry leaned in towards a gaping James and murmured something with a sneer on his face. Potter's face, in turn, went blank. Then-

WHAM!

Potter's punch hit Terry so hard he was knocked backwards into the Ravenclaw table, where those sitting in the vicinity shrieked and moved away from the fallen boy with the bloody nose. Everyone in the hall was watching now. People were shouting and standing up to get a better view. McGonagall had stood and was marching her way around the staff table. Potter pulled his arm back and punched my boyfriend again, this time in the stomach. He was yelling now, things that made absolutely no sense to the human ear. At that moment Sirius stood up, apparently deciding Terry had been beaten enough, and wrestled his mate away. He is incredibly strong from what I could tell.

But none of that I saw. All I saw was Potter's furious face. He looked just the way I felt. I was shaking and my heart was beating so loud and hard I was expecting everyone in the hall to look around wondering what the source of the entire racket was. It was frightening how mad I was. I didn't hear myself scream or feel myself move forward. I didn't even feel Peter's feeble and desperate attempts to hold me back.

I reached them. Everyone was watching as Terry yelled at Potter and Sirius yelled right back at him. I was still staring at the oaf. He turned around when I approached.

His eyes widened and a look of downright horror filled them. I swear, he must have thought I looked like Medusa or something of the sort.

"Evans, you don't understand-" he started in a desperate tone. But I never let him finish.

I don't know exactly how but I managed to grab hold of a lemon-meringue pie covered in pink and red frosting for the Valentine theme. Once I realized how useful a tool this was in the utter destruction of Potter I was intending (and trust me, it didn't take very long) I didn't give it another second's thought. Upon reaching him I smashed it hard to his face.

The silence in the hall was deafening. All the excited voices that had been shouting when the boys had been fighting ceased. Even Professor McGonagall stopped dead in her tracks out of shock. I did not notice this. I was too busy abandoning the dish the pie had been in and spreading what had remained of it all over James Potter's head.

I stood on my tip-toes, my arms high over my head, spreading the creamy stuff all over. I made sure every inch of his face was covered in pink. I took a sick sort of pleasure out of thinking it probably stung his eyes, out of making every possible effort to yank out his hair. Once I was satisfied I stepped back to admire the effect.

Potter just stood there and took it. When I stopped, his only reaction was to reach up and wipe the frosting as best he could, take off his glasses and clean them on the hem of his shirt then jam them back on his face, without the slightest trace of embarrassment or anger. As if enraged girls often came and threw pie at him!

As the rest of the world came crashing back, I realized a crowd had formed around us, no doubt to watch me smear pie over the great and wonderful James Potter. McGonagall had re-gained her composure and was trying very hard to make her way through the crowd with very little success. The other teachers were scurrying away from the staff table as well. And before I could decide whether I would proceed to yell at the King of Lemon-Meringue or plead with McGonagall that I was not responsible for my actions because I had been channelling some cracked and twisted spirit, bent upon framing me (I still don't know which I would have done), I was very greatly distracted. Potter took a pitcher of pumpkin juice from the Gryffindor table and chucked the contents down my shirt.

I gasped tremendously. The cold liquid soaked my shirt, knickers, skirt...even my socks! A few ice-cubes stuck themselves in my bra. I stared down at my drenched self with an open mouth; all sense of preservation abandoned once more, and then glanced up at Potter. He was openly staring at my chest, trying his hardest not to smirk. I did not see the crowd's reaction, but I was later told that all eyes and mouths were wide and staring. All except McGonagall's. Her eyes were narrowed and her mouth formed that thin line all students have learned to mean 'you'd better have a very good reason!'

At that moment I had not a care in the world for the consequences of my actions. Anger does tend to have that effect upon me. Breathing heavily and loudly, my face steaming so much I was certain I could have fried an egg on it, I picked up a platter of mashed-potatoes from the Ravenclaw table. I turned to face Potter with what I suspected to be a very ugly smile on my lips. His eyes widened at the sight of the huge platter of mashed vegetables.

"Take this you unethical, bird-brained, crap-mouthed, pathetic and despicable dolt!" I cried and hurled the platter as hard as I could toward his enormous head.

It would have been a hit. It would have! If he hadn't been so damned sneaky and clever, that is. He ducked.

The mashed-potatoes disengaged themselves from the platter, splattering the floor and some on-lookers. But the worst part was that the platter continued its projection right over James's ducked head. It thwacked a fifth year Slytherin prefect in the stomach. Not a particularly nice and forgiving Slytherin, either. Everyone in the hall watched in suspense (except McGonagall who was attempting to threaten her way through the horde of students, of course) as the large girl cursed me, picked up a near-by chicken wing and sent it hurtling my way.

For the first time in my life I followed Potter's example and ducked down beside him. Just in time, too. Instead, the chicken wing intended for me sailed over my head and hit Peter in the face.

He yelped like a mouse and smacked his hands over his face in agony.

"My eyes! My eyes! I've gone blind, somebody, help me!" he cried, clutching at those particular parts.

Some shouted out in worry, others laughed. The Slytherin was not mollified. With similar aggressiveness she chucked another wing. Once again, I ducked. She obviously wasn't very bright. This time the victims were some innocent second years, laughing merrily at Peter's misfortune.

Those nasty little sprites had absolutely no aim, which is what I would have blamed the whole bloody fight on, but no... Anyway, a member of their little clan was hit by a projectile chicken-wing and the rest of those angry little urchins retaliated, mercilessly throwing every sliver of food (most were salads, though), in the general direction of the Slytherin. Some straggling peas hit me in the face. A tomato became lost in Albert Gibson's afro, which he did not find at all amusing, rather worthy of revenge, in fact. Tonia Edwards and Victor Hedge, the snobbiest idiots alive, did not take the in-immaculate state of their 'stylish' lime-green boots amiably. I never thought I'd see the day they would forsake their Galleons worth of manicures purposelessly flinging stake into the air.

Soon after these little episodes, all became madness. 'Chuck food for you life' was the motto, and we all followed it reverently. Food flew in every direction from every direction. The air was not only filled with a colossal number of edible things, but shouts, curses, threats and laughter. I vaguely realized Peter had hidden under the table, still nursing his so-called blinded eyes. Sirius had taken an empty bowl and placed it over his head like a helmet, as means to protect his oh-so-perfect hair and was chucking anything at anyone so long as he was sure his hair was safe. Sophie and Rich told me later that they had decided not to take part until a first year gleefully threw jelly at them without apologizing adequately. Right. Sure.

My only adversary, however, was Potter. Once under the cover of hundreds of other students who'd taken my initiative, I recommenced what we'd started. I grabbed a bowl of gravy from a passing Hufflepuff and dumped it all over Potter's head. He in turn grabbed me in a headlock, taking rude advantage of the fact I am smaller and more delicate, not releasing me even when I began to shout things that would have made my Great Aunt Polly sit up in her grave. He brought my head around and dunked it in a vat of string-bean casserole.

I groaned loudly in aggravation, fury, and detestation. I groped around for something to throw and my hand came around a dish of rice. I promptly threw it at the Brainless King of Prats (he'd recently been promoted). He swerved to the right, avoiding the collision and, to my utter horror, the bowl smacked little Professor Flitwick in the head as he had been trying to pull apart two third years who had resorted to the use of plates to whack each other with and were yelling things that led me to believe they were fighting over a pair of socks. The girls stopped momentarily to reassure themselves that the knocked over Professor was indeed still alive and, once certain, returned to their thorough whacking. My view of the knocked over little man was obstructed by a head wearing a bowl as a hat, however.

Sirius grinned madly at me and tried to spread bolognaise in my already filthy hair. I didn't give him the chance; I ducked down and rammed him in the stomach with my bean-sauce covered head.

"Oof!" he uttered doubling over.

In that moment of vulnerability a group of girls took him over, giggling to such an extent it had to be unhealthy, and judging by Sirius's desperate screams of terror, removed his makeshift helmet. I spared him no fleeting thought.

I spotted Potter standing on the Gryffindor table and leapt to join but slipped in ketchup and grabbed onto him for support, yanking us both down. His arse landed directly in a pudding of some sort, to my great amusement. But then, to my great displeasure, he shoved some cooked asparagus down my shirt. What was it with him and stuffing things in my shirt?

I snatched butter from the butter dish and crawled over to mush it against his shirt and smear it. I moved away when he tried to grab me. I took a step back and found another butter dish with butter in it and snatched it up. I stood, slapped James in the face when he tried to throw a tomato tort at me, stuffed the butter in his shirt and proceeded to squash from the outside.

I became aware of something light and soft raining on my head. When I looked up what do I see but Peeves, the school poltergeist, sprinkling me and James with pink and red confetti? Apparently he thinks that a food-fight is the place to be. But anonymous and hypothetical reader, don't make the mistake of confusing him with an uglier version of cupid; he had an enormous amount of spaghetti sauce in a tub as well.

"Why looky-looky! It's Potty and Evans fighting on a table. Say, does Evans want some sauce to match her lovely hair?" he cackled evilly, with a wide and evil smile.

Before I could yell at him that 'no!', I did not want tomato sauce lobbed at my head, he lobbed some anyway. I do believe I screamed for the second time that night and attempted to aim everything around me at Peeves. He just floated away and dumped some sauce over McGonagall's tight bun.

I decided that smearing more butter over Potter's chest was a productive way to take out my frustration on the world. It took me a while to realize that he was not retaliating. He was standing there, staring at me. I looked up.

The look on his face made me stop what I was doing. In one movement he'd pulled my arms forward and held them behind his back so that our chests were completely against each other's. I became aware of the fact my shirt was see-through and was sticking to the spot where I'd smeared butter onto his skin. My heart rate went up. I felt it was about to jump right out of my mouth.

"Lily...it wasn't what it looked like," he whispered in urgency. "You've got no idea what he said."

"Oh yeah?" I burst at him, yanking and yanking pointlessly, trying to break free. "Well if it was anything along the lines of 'Lily is my girlfriend and you should stay away from her, you 'effing bastard' then I'm not inclined to hate him for it!"

My words came out quickly; I barely knew how I managed to speak at all. I wasn't truly as convinced as I sounded, for some reason.

"You think he's such a hero, don't you?"

He had yanked me even closer now, to my great dismay and fury. I tried mightily to stomp on his feet, but he moved them away. We looked like we were doing a complicated sort of waltz.

All that unwanted proximity was making my head spin. With anger of course. Just anger.

"He is much better than you will ever be!" I exclaimed sounding as convicted as I could.

James's face was so close I could see the speckles of brown and green in his eyes through his glasses. His next words sent shivers down my spine because of the pure fury in his voice.

"He doesn't deserve you."

Well. That was definitely profound, on many levels. It was that fact that made me stop resisting, not the way he looked from this close.

"Why are you saying that?" I choked out.

"Because it's true," he answered, still holding me fast.

"You expect me to believe you?"

"For crying out loud, Lily!" he shouted, shoving me away. I was transfixed by what looked like need on his face. "Why do you have to be so damned difficult? You can't see what is right in front of your face. You're blind!"

I was overwhelmed. I was horrified to find tears hovering behind my eyes. My indignation took over things, instead of my sensibility.

"And you're a liar! I will never believe you!" I leapt off the table, needing to be away from him, and thoroughly splashed myself in a puddle of juice.

Oblivious to our little war, the house elves down in the kitchen had started sending up the second helpings. Things were just as insane as when they had started. The teachers were running around like lunatics, trying to control all the madness. There were students yelling on the table, taking aim from underneath, and some had turned over the benches as means of a shield. A true battlefield. My throat hurt a lot and felt too small all of a sudden. I was going to cry and I did not want to do so in front of Potter.

I took a scoop of strawberry ice cream and threw it at his head.

"You're a liar!" I shouted.

I did not stick around to see it hit its mark. I fled the hall, still sopping wet and filthy from head to toe.

And that is basically how it all happened. On Sunday all the students were called into the Great Hall, and that is where we all spent the day, like a big detention. The night before that, the Supreme Git of the World and I were summoned to the Headmaster's office, where we were told how disappointed they were in us and how they never would have expected such outlandishly primitive behaviour (their exact words, I tell you) from the Head Boy and Girl of the school. I felt very awful and bawled a great deal. The Git didn't seem affected but then again he has no feelings.

Yes I admit, I was curious about my so-called blindness he referred to, and I questioned Terry later about that, but today I don't have time to relate it. I have only a few minutes to finish expressing my outrage that anyone could have forgiven the maggot for all those things. And me too, for that matter, but modesty aside, I am frankly an all round better person and more forgivable. I don't understand how McGonagall can sit there smiling like that. Has she any idea how long it will take to wash away the stain from Peeves'charmed sauce off of her robes? I know mine still isn't back to normal. And it's a good thing my hair is already red, because I've seen people walking around with red streaks. That boy is just...beyond words. And nobody seems to mind, but me. Argghhhh!

Well, I am sure that they have all been brainwashed and once I find out how to reverse it, they will all heartily thank me and happily assist me as I run after the oaf with a pitch fork.

I am now off to my blissfully free, free, free weekend. I just won't get tired of saying that. Free! Oh the joy! I will spend the whole time hiding in my dorm, the only place Potter really cannot stalk me to.

Lily Evans

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Well, hey! We made it to the food-fight, finally! Please, if you won't review but one chapter, let it be this one! It's the most important. Tell me...did I overdue it? Was it funny...anything! Thank you to everyone who has favorited me and this story and left such nice reviews! Thanks to my amazing beta, JC_Cainstone, without whose help this would suck.

Time to review!