Justin Finch-Fletchley and the Normal Teenage Problem

Chapter Three \

"You haven't?" said Susan, eyes wide. It was lunchtime, and Justin wasn't enjoying the reproachful looks his friends were giving him. "The dance is tomorrow!"

"Bit strange, don't you think?" said Michael, contemplatively poking at his potatoes. "Hogwarts has never had a Halloween dance before, and suddenly this year - poof! There it is! Doesn't make much sense, does it?"

"Shut up, Michael," scowled Susan.

"But it's true, isn't it? Don't you think it's-"

"Shut up!"

Michael was surprised at her sternness but moved on to safer conversation topics nonetheless. "I thought you did ask her," he said to Justin. "After all, the way you two rushed in to class all red-faced and out of breath..."

"I didn't," said Justin, turning red again. The Great Hall was full of laughing, grumbling students, and Justin wished he wasn't with these two particular students. "I didn't ask her and you shouldn't talk, Michael, because you haven't asked anybody either."

"Maybe the girls'll ask me," Michael shrugged. "It's a new era, it happens..."

"You're both pathetic," Susan concluded. "Didn't you just have Transfiguration with her? What were you doing all that time you could've asked her?"

Justin stared at her. "My work."

"Or at least a valiant attempt at it," Michael amended.

By the end of Transfiguration, Michael and Justin didn't get full marks for the classwork because, although Michael's sand was of fine powdery quality and - most importantly - dry, Justin's damp sand didn't make McGonagall too happy.

"You better ask her today," said Susan, slicing her cannelloni. "Hope she hasn't got a date yet."

"I can ask her tomorrow morning," said Justin half-heartedly.

Susan rolled her eyes. "It's just asking a girl a question, for heaven's sake! It's not like she's some sadistic, frigid witch. It's not as if you're some acne-ridden idiot no one likes."

She's right, you know, said Justin's rational mind.

Ah, glad to see you're back in the game, said the gag reflex.

Wouldn't be here if it weren't for you, said the rational mind affectionately. Then with a hint of professional pride it said, Now if you don't mind, I've got a job to do!

Of course, the gag reflex smiled.

Ahem. So Justin, really, why would she say no to you?

Because, thought Justin.

You're not stupid and you're not ugly, and you're both already sort of friends, which, if you think about it, is better than being good friends because then the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing would mess with dynamics.

But, thought Justin.

She smiles at you in the halls.

She smiles at everyone in the halls. Besides, I can't talk to her properly. Like this afternoon before Transfiguration. Ah, for god's sake, this afternoon...

That was this afternoon. You've talked with her normally before, haven't you?

Well, er, yes, I guess, but after this afternoon, what would she think-

It was just one mistake in one afternoon. Your mistakes don't dictate who you are. Your failings are only a part of you, not all of you. Just look at Ernie Macmillan.

Well... yes, but what would she think-

You wouldn't be worrying so much about what other people think of you if you knew how little they do. You're a good person, Justin Finch-Fletchley. Don't let it go to waste.

Justin stared broodingly into his mushroom soup, mulling over possibilities and probabilities. Would he? Could he? Somewhere in his subconscious, the gag reflex shook the rational mind's hand with a congratulatory grin.

Good work up there.

Oh, not at all, said the rational mind humbly. All in a day's work, eh? Really, kids these days...

Reckon you need to go back up there and kick him around a bit more?

No, I think he can figure it out from here.

It was worth it surely, thought Justin. It was worth Parvati's smile, her soft-bright eyed smile of which he was gratefully on the receiving end more times than he thought he deserved. It was worth Parvati's hand in his. It was worth Parvati in his arms, which he experienced once in his second year after they revived him from the basilisk encounter. Well-wishers gave him backslaps, handshakes, and hugs, and Parvati had just been a face in a crowd then, but now he knew to appreciate it should it happen again. It was worth Parvati's understated grace, worth the musical way she spoke the English language, worth her... her kiss? Would she kiss him?

Justin perished the thought for fear it wouldn't come true.

"It's not as if this will have some permanent debilitating effect on you," said Susan, as if Justin's inaction was a personal insult. "Even if she says no, you'll both probably forget about it in a few weeks and things will go back to normal."

"Such beautiful logic," said Michael. Justin couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

"You don't have a bloody date either, Michael, so shut up," said Justin. But it was beautiful logic. After all, didn't Parvati seem particularly pretty today? Didn't she still say goodbye and 'maybe you'll get the spell next time' to him after class even if he had been a conversational idiot today?

Justin stood up.

"Oh, where are you going, then?" asked Susan.

The words 'to ask Parvati to the dance' were on the tip of his tongue but he was knocked off his feet by an explosion from the Slytherin table.

Terrified yells resounded throughout the Great Hall, especially from the Slytherins, most of who, if they haven't fallen off their chairs, were quickly running for the doors or under the other house's tables. Plates of food and goblets of juice have fallen off the table, littering the floor and staining robes. On opposite ends of the tabletop stood Arialynne and Pansy Parkinson, wands at the ready and looking particularly homicidal.

"What's going on?" Justin asked from the floor, and yelled in surprise as a Slytherin slipped on some lasagna and fell in a heap beside him.

"Oh, mummy!" whimpered the Slytherin, and threw his arms around Justin in a terrified embrace. Justin recognised him as Graham Pritchard, a boy who, despite being a few years below him, can apparently hug like nobody's business. Justin thought his ribs would break.

"Let me go!" Justin gasped, and applied all the necessary hitting actions until Graham did so. "What's going on?"

Pansy Parkinson sharply yelling a curse, followed by a brilliant flash of light, interrupted Pritchard's answer. Arialynne blocked the curse, causing another blinding light flash, as well as a few deep rumbles that students could feel through the floor. An unspoken agreement between Justin and Graham had them both cowering in relative safety under the Hufflepuff table before any answers were given.

"Pansy Parkinson insulted Muggles," said Graham.

"Is that it?" Justin frowned. "But she does that all the time."

"But Arialynne's a Muggle, see, so they never really got on in the first place," Graham further explained. "Not to mention Pansy's been in love with Draco since first year, so she didn't like it when Arialynne showed up and became his best friend, because then they started spending all their time together, talking about how he doesn't have any real friends he can talk to until Arialynne came along." Graham took a deep breath. "So, Pansy feels left out."

"Malfoy friends with a Muggle?" Justin repeated, goggle-eyed. "Thought he couldn't stand them."

"But-"

"He even went so far as to charm my hat to say 'Muggles fuck sheep' whenever I put it on!" Justin added bitterly. "I mean, sure, that may be true in some parts of the world..."

"He doesn't hate Muggles anymore," said Graham. "Arialynne's made him see the light. Kind of like how she made him gay so he'll make out with Potter while she takes pictures. He's a new man, Draco is. He's a redeemed Draco."

More fireworks and sound effects interrupted their exchange. Graham yelped and grabbed onto Justin again. Justin couldn't see who cast the spell but assumed it was Arialynne because Pansy was now yelling angry swear words.

"So, er..." said Justin. "This duel here..."

"Well, it was a long time coming, really," said Graham. "I mean, Pansy is such a bitch, and Arialynne is so noble and valiant and loyal and all that and, you know, it would figure, wouldn't it?"

Another explosion shook the hall and the boys yelled as the table collapsed on top of them.

"Bloody hell!" Justin gasped, wriggling out from under the tabletop. "The teachers ought to do something about this, don't you think? Graham? Graham?" Sighing wearily, Justin slipped back under the table and dragged the young Slytherin out by his leg.

"Ooooh, I'll feel that one in the morning," Graham moaned, clutching his head.

"Come on, let's get out of here."

Dodging stray bolts of magic, slippery bits of food, and puddles of pumpkin juice, the two boys made their way for the doors, only to find it congested by a throng of students clamouring to get out and away from the angry magic behind them.

"We won't be able to get through that," said Graham, looking worriedly at the crowd. Behind them, the Slytherin banner caught fire and the smell of burning ensured the chaos continuance.

"The teachers ought to do something about them!" Justin cried out, dragging Graham away before they were trampled. "This is crazy! Those girls can kill someone and no one's doing anything about it!"

"The teachers are busy trying to get the students not to panic."

"Wouldn't that work so much better if the source of panic was dealt with?"

"Yeah, but... but... but Justin!"

"What!"

The young Slytherin looked at him with a steely gaze that disturbed Justin for a reason he couldn't fathom. "You mustn't talk about such things, Justin," said Graham. "You mustn't."

There was a cry from Pansy as she was knocked off the table by flashing purple lights shooting out of Arialynne's wand. Arialynne hopped nimbly off the table and encased Pansy in a silver globe, slowly levitating it. Her concentration was broken when Pansy retaliated by splitting the ground beneath her feet.

"Where'd they learn magic like that, anyway?" Justin said, gawping. "They're just kids! They can't even legally buy pornography yet."

"Oh, Pansy knows it because her parents are Death Eaters," said Graham as they began to run from the widening crack in the floor, "so she knows all about the newest evil spells. As for Arialynne, well, who knows? Must've come from the same place as her mysterious healing powers and shiny hair."

"Right," said Justin, whose question had been rhetorical. "Um, I think we should go to the far wall and try that cowering-under-tables bit again."

"Okay."

So they did.

"How long do you think they'll go on for?" asked Graham. "A few of my housemates took wagers on this duel long ago. Zabini's guessed the day of the duel correctly, but Warrington's going to get big pay-offs for guessing that Arialynne'd throw the first spell."

Justin was about to reply when he noticed a large dark shape against the opposite wall slowly making its way to the duelling Slytherins.

It was Hagrid.

Justin looked on curiously as the groundskeeper-cum-professor approach Pansy and Arialynne in what was decidedly a sneaky manner. He was carrying a bundle of something in his hand, and looking very determined. Justin got the strangest sensation of déjà vu.

Hagrid stopped behind the overturned Gryffindor table and untied the bundle he had been carrying. Its contents made Justin's stomach churn.

Rock cakes. Huge, lumpy, anti-orthodontic rock cakes. Justin remembered these cakes. Last year before Christmas holidays, Hagrid baked a batch and served it to his Care of Magical Creatures class as a pre-Yuletide treat. Justin remembered these cakes very well. His teeth ached from the memory of it.

He watched as Hagrid arranged the rock cakes in a column beside him, then he took out a pencil from his pocket and began scribbling mathematical calculations on the bottom of the table. He paused occasionally to estimate distances or weigh a rock cake in his hands, crossing out numbers and correcting values.

"What's Hagrid doing, you reckon?" Graham asked.

"We'll soon see," Justin murmured, and ducked as a particularly powerful curse sent flying debris in every direction.

Unperturbed, Hagrid peeked out from behind the table after the dust has cleared and checked the position of the Slytherin girls. He licked a finger and stuck it in the air, and, after a nod of satisfaction at the wind direction, he drew back his arm and threw the rock cake in a perfect arc at Pansy Parkinson's head. There was a 'thok!' noise, a few seconds of silence, and a crashing sound as Pansy fell over backwards unconscious. There were a few more seconds of silence as the students gauged the new situation.

George Weasley jumped out from the crowd with a finger pointing at a startled Arialynne, declaring, "Arialynne beat Parkinson! She beat Parkinson in the duel!"

The students and teachers burst into wild applause as the victorious Slytherin quickly caught up with the state of affairs. She smiled at them and began her obligatory speech. "I didn't know I had it in me, really," she blubbered. "I'm usually a friendly person, but that Pansy Parkinson makes me so mad with all her sheep-fucking jokes..."

Hagrid, who was just about to throw a second rock cake at Arialynne, gaped at the turn of events. After the gaping, however, came the look of seething fury. Before he could protest, people began to stampede to Arialynne bearing praise and adoration.

"Arialynne!" Draco cried out. "How can I ever thank you? That girl has been a thorn in my side for ages..."

"That was almost as great as the time you told me about having to face your childhood traumas!" Lupin exclaimed.

"My heart shivered with fear when I saw you!" Snape bellowed, not to be outdone. "If you had been hurt in any way, I wouldn't be able to forgive myself, my love!"

"Autographs! Autographs!" yelled the rest of the mob, ignoring Lupin's sputters of protest.

"Bloody good aim, that Hagrid," Graham commented casually. "So he is useful for something other than keeping grounds. Any idiot can keep grounds, really. My father keeps grounds everywhere in England, and some in Wales, and we're making lots of Galleons from them. Sometimes he gets other people to keep the grounds for him, but if they can't pay up, then he hires a couple of goblins, preferably Sicilian ones, to make sure they do."

"Uh-huh," said Justin, not bothering to correct Graham's skewed perception of real estate. He crawled out from under the table and looked around for his friends.

Justin noticed that Michael was among Arialynne's mob of fans. He bid goodbye to Graham and went to rescue his fellow Hufflepuff.

"Michael!" Justin hissed, tugging him out of the throng. "What are you doing?"

"Show us your brea... er, what?" Michael blinked and looked confusedly at Justin, then at the mob. "What?"

"You lost yourself there," said Justin.

"Bloody hell..." Michael shook his head, trying to clear it. "I shouldn't like to do this again in a hurry... Gosh, Justin-"

He was interrupted by a shrill "How could you, Severus?!" and what sounded suspiciously like a slap.

"Come on," said Michael. "Let's get out of here before they crowd the doors again."

"You go on ahead," said Justin, who was still feeling a bit out of it. Even better, he was lucid enough to realise he was feeling out of it, and lucid enough to know to try and remain in this state. Because, really, a touch of unreality never hurt if you were about to ask the girl you liked to the dance.

Michael put a hand on his shoulder. "You sure?"

"Yeah..." said Justin, and wandered off to search for brown-skinned students wearing red and yellow ties.

So Parvati, I was wondering if you would go to the dance with me? Those words sounded good. Now would he actually be able to get them past his lips? Wait! No! No negative thoughts! No thinking at all! Maintain stupor until you find pretty Indian girl wearing fire-coloured tie...

The mob began to dissipate. Justin wove around the people who began to trickle out the doorway of the Great Hall, keeping his visual focus empty until he spotted his target. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Snape looking irritated as a tearful Lupin yelled at him ("Come off it, Remus. I knew you were sleeping with Black behind my back anyway." "At least Sirius is legal, you bastard!"). He saw Hagrid crumble his rock cakes to dust in his hand. He saw Ron Weasley randomly hex students left and right. Justin walked around the people on the floor with jelly legs and body-binds until he finally saw her.

The air of unreality gave a squeal of terror and scampered away, leaving Justin very much alone.

No no no don't give up now!screamed his rational mind, rushing to deal with the emergency situation. You're so close! Are you going to give up just because you don't have anything to hide behind anymore?

...Maybe.

No, dammit, no! Get up there or I'll fetch your gag reflex with the cattle prod.

Justin frowned. What?

Nothing. Er. Right-o, then. Left leg forward!

Justin's left leg clumsily took a step.

Right leg forward! Left leg! Forward march!

Justin slowly approached the Gryffindor girl, who currently had her back to him, with slow awkward steps.

"Strangest lunch hour we've had in a while," said Parvati to Seamus beside her.

"Something like that, eh?" said Seamus. "Torched up the Slytherin banner pretty good, didn't they?"

"Put a bloody big hole in the ground pretty good, didn't they?"

"Mmm. I wonder where we'll eat now."

"Aren't we going to have the Halloween dance here tomorrow? It'd be kind of crap with the hole around." She paused, taking in the scene. "At least if we get bored we can take turns shoving Slytherins in it."

"Sounds good," said Seamus, shrugging. "Which reminds me. Do you want to go to the dance with me?"

"Yeah, alright."

"Cool."

Oh... bugger.

Seamus and Parvati continued their conversation, dismissing the strangled anguished wail behind them as another one of Ron's victims.

-

Justin Finch-Fletchley stepped into the Hufflepuff common room that evening and was dismayed to see his housemates gossiping around the fire. It wasn't quite the presence of his friends, or the temporary repositioning of furniture to make a semicircle around the grate, that got him down. No, he quite liked his friends, so as far as he was concerned they could do what they like to the furniture.

The dismay began approximately six hours and twenty-seven minutes ago, when Justin didn't quite ask Parvati Patil to the Halloween dance. It had all been downhill from there. He was dismayed to learn in Herbology that the flower of the African Bullweed can cure blindness. He was dismayed to notice in History of Magic class that Tracey Davis was wearing yellow socks. He was dismayed when he walked into Snape and Arialynne reciting romantic clichés in the halls, but for slightly different reasons.

It wasn't that big of a jump for him to be dismayed at the gathering of Hufflepuffs in their own common room.

Susan was the first to notice him and enthusiastically waved him over.

"Sit over here," said Hannah Abbott, already scooting over to make room for him on the couch.

"No, that's okay," Justin said vaguely. "I think I'll go lie down a bit. I've had a bad day."

"We all have, what with that light show during lunch," said Ernie dourly. "What makes you different? Put on different-coloured socks today? Must be the end of the world!"

Justin lifted his robe. "I am?"

"No, you idiot!" laughed Michael. "Come here. We've got a nice discussion going."

Against his better judgment, Justin approached them and squeezed in next to Laura.

"So, what do you think of her?" Hannah asked him.

"Who?"

"Arialynne! The new girl! The lights-show girl!"

"She can hardly be called new," Michael pointed out. "She's been here since the beginning of the term, though she did look a bit silly being the only non-first-year who put on the Sorting Hat."

Justin blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. "She's shagging Snape."

The group made various noises, all of which meant 'bleagh.'

"You're kidding!" said Ernie, making a face. "Snape?! How did that happen?"

"Actually I've heard her say he was darkly handsome," said Eleanor Branstone mysteriously. "She said he was beautifully disturbed and looked tortured like Trent Razor."

"Who?"

"Reznor," Justin corrected. "Trent Reznor."

"Who the hell's-"

"I can understand darkly handsome - maybe - but dis-"

"Hold on, shut up," said Ernie. "Justin, who the hell's this Trent Reznor bloke?"

"Er, he's a Muggle musician. He's famous though his fans don't really want him to be." Justin struggled to remember what he could of Muggle life, much of which has slipped away since Hogwarts. "Goths like him.

Hannah frowned. "Goths? You mean those old Germanic tribes in-"

"No, no," said Justin. "Goths are, er, a subculture, kind of." He surveyed the blank looks before him. "They're perpetually sad for questionable reasons and write bad poetry about the unfairness of existence and the state of their love lives."

There was a collective "Ahh" of understanding. "Ginny Weasley."

"No, no! Ginny's not a goth!" Justin said. "There's more! They wear pasty make-up! They dye their hair constantly and worship one they call Neil Gaiman and-"

"So anyway," said Hannah, waving his words away. "Back to Arialynne. Look, I can kind of understand wanting to shag darkly handsome, but disturbed and tortured?" She shuddered.

"Well, some people are into that," shrugged Susan. "You can't really fault them for it, Laura."

"Snape's the one doing the disturbing and torturing," said Ernie bitterly. "Took away points just because my potion turned his skin purple."

"A bit of colour would do him good anyway," said Hannah, and everyone laughed, except Justin.

"But, you see, Professor Snape has developed an emotional dependency on Arialynne," Eleanor piped up. "He's convinced she's his salvation, you see, and thinks he can absolve past sins in the pureness of her love and the versatility of her tongue."

"Too much information!" Michael shrieked, hands over his ears.

"Eleanor, where the hell do you get all this?" gawped Ernie.

"I overheard her confessing to Draco in tears as they were shagging in the broom closet."

"Malfoy?" Susan repeated, bug-eyed. "I thought he was gay! Isn't he shagging Potter?"

"He's gay?" Hannah frowned. "Since when?"

"Of course he's gay," scoffed Ernie. "What, you think that's just a fantasy made up by sexually repressed heterosexual teenaged girls with nothing better to do? Draco Malfoy's gayer than Christmas!" He paused contemplatively. "Well, in light of this new information, I guess he's bi."

"So she's shagging Hogwarts's slimiest teacher and its hottest student," Susan mused.

"Wait a minute," Hannah cut in. "Hottest student? Malfoy? All the little prat does is go on about his father and pull pranks on unsuspecting Gryffindors!"

Michael sighed. "Hannah, Hannah, Hannah. So behind on the times!"

"What do you mean?" Hannah demanded.

"Well, actually I think Malfoy is rather cute," said Susan resolutely, turning red.

"If you like stick-thin and rat-like," Michael muttered.

"What about Malfoy?" Hannah repeated.

"What about Terry Boot, eh?" said Anthony, waggling his eyebrows.

"I said I thought Malfoy was cute, not that I would shag him!" Susan snapped. "Terry and I are doing fine, thank you very much."

"Oy! What's happening with Malfoy?" Hannah exclaimed. "What's going on?"

"He's not a 'prat' anymore, Hannah," said Eleanor knowingly. "He only acted that way because his father doesn't really love him. Deep down inside, he is a sensitive soul who plays the piano, solves Arithmancy problems for fun, and has all sorts of other artistic and intellectual inclinations that the typical bully ought not have. He's a redeemed Draco Malfoy."

During the course of the conversation, the dull buzz in Justin's head had developed into a full-blown headache. Mumbling an excuse, he slipped out of the common room and up to his room, much to the concern of exactly no one.

-

How's our boy doing?asked the gag reflex.

Not very good, sighed the rational mind. I'm afraid he's not taking the rejection very well.

He didn't even get rejected.

You know what I mean.

Yeah, well, said the gag reflex. So what's he doing now?

Trying to sleep.

Trying to?

You want to know what's going through his mind?

The gag reflex shrugged. Sure.

The rational mind displayed a series of images for the gag reflex to see, most of which showed Parvati Patil saying, "Yeah, alright." There were some of Justin kissing Parvati. There were some of Seamus kissing Parvati. There were some of Justin beating Seamus with a hot-iron skillet.

Hmm, said the gag reflex thoughtfully.

That's what I thought, said the rational mind. Hey, do us a favour won't you, and call your boss up here. I want to see what he's up to.

Alright, said the gag reflex. A few seconds later, the id clambered up into Justin Finch-Fletchley's mental plane.

What's going on, old man? asked the rational mind.

Headache. Ow. Headache. Ow. Seamus. Kill. Kill, droned the id. Stupid Irish...

...Right then. Off you go, said the rational mind. When the id had gone, it turned to the gag reflex and said, You can be doing so much better than that bloke, honestly. Disgusting, some organisations these days...

The gag reflex sighed. Yeah, maybe, but what're you gonna do, y'know? I'm not in charge of the system. After an uncomfortable pause, it added, So do you think the boy's going to be alright?

Of course he's going to be alright. It was a girl, not Ebola. He'll get over her eventually. The rational mind quieted as if checking on something. There, you see? He's starting to drop off to sleep already.

Reckon he'll dream?

'Course.

What kind of dreams?

That's not really my department, said the rational mind. Hold on a bit. I'll get this sorted

There was a few moment's pause and then--

You called? said the subconscious, sauntering in. Whatsit now?

Dreams, of course, said the rational mind.

Thought so. What kind?

Well, the memories of the day are sitting right there, said the gag reflex. So you just go look through them, find something nice.

The subconscious sifted through the memories like it was shuffling cards. Bloody hell. I'm glad I'm just a metaphysical projection of a human's mental state. Look at the things this one has to put up with.

Well? prompted the rational mind.

I think, said the subconscious, I can make up a dream where he's on the edge of the cliff, and it's night and there's lots of rain. Then suddenly there's a flash of lightning and the ground gives way beneath his feet, and he falls. It looked at the other metaphysical projections of Justin's mental state. What do you think of that?

The other two exchanged glances.

But, said the gag reflex, that's the one you do every night.

The subconscious shrugged. What's your point?

-

"Hold on!" exclaimed Michael Corner, sitting bolt upright in bed in the middle of the night. "McGonagall's homework!"

"What is it, Corner?" came a groan from Ernie's bed.

"Her homework!" Michael sputtered. "The Transfiguration homework! It makes no sense!"

More boys began to wake, swearing loudly, roused by Michael's nocturnal epiphany.

"I mean, she told us to Transfigure the pebbles for homework, right?" said Michael. "But how would she know if we really Transfigured them or not? How is she to know if Ron just nicked a couple of jellybeans from his mum's care package to replace the ones Neville ate? How would she know if Lavender just went out to the garden to pick the violets?"

"Shut up, Corner," growled Anthony Goldstein.

"We're trying to sleep here," said Wayne Hopkins.

"But don't you guys think-"

"No," said Anthony. "We don't. Good night."

Michael settled back into his covers with a frown on his face. When he finally fell to sleep, it was a fitful one.