Christmas Sweater
I was used to bullying before I started to attend Hogwarts, although nothing could compare to masses of teenagers with deadly weapons in their pockets. In my opinion, wands are a superior version of a gun (which I was forbidden to touch, even if it contained plastic balls or paintball-ammunition).
I thought that speaking to animals would be a gift more so than a curse – however, I was wrong (because people are as stupid as always). I wasn't the only thing thrown out of my dorms – this time my trunk flew with me down the staircase and someone managed to pursue the fucking statue that told riddles that I was forbidden from entering even the common room. I told no one, of course, and hidden all my stuff in our Room. I could do nothing to Luna's bullies so they became crueller, bolder. I wanted to rip their throats out and study their bodies for the good of science.
Galileo was not once, but twice shot with a nasty spell while flying outside – I heald him and managed to persuade him to spend most of his time with my family – Marie spoiled him like any other animal so he wouldn't be neglected.
He wasn't the only one who was shot with spells on sight – I couldn't go through a crowded corridor without limping away from it. One asshole burned part of my hair and another cut part of my robes off (I protected them better with runes after that fucking ‚accident‘). Thankfully, most people only left bruises, which was fine. If Hermione walked in those groups of students with me, they would lay low (maybe they saw her as innocent). If Luna tried to talk my ear off about one of her creatures, they would go soft on her (she might be called Loony but she is still a first-year). Twins would get full blows, even though their retaliation was worse than the attack (why do so many people have fucking smooth brains?).
Most often I would find myself alone – twins and Luna were in different school-years and Hermione shared a bare minimum of classes with me. Susan and Hannah tried to sometimes shield me but they were ignored – they wanted to tell Sprout but I knew nobody would take it seriously. Teachers never believed I could be bullied, quite the opposite. Most thought I was the one who bullied other children (even though they were a lot older than me). It's not my fault Fridrich had an unfortunate tendency to beat up anyone who tried to hurt me.
‚Hungry, so hungry,‘ a hissing voice led me to the second floor again, when I heard the now incredibly familiar name of a burning curse. I ducked but got hit anyways – they expected my natural reaction, so this is not their first time. Thankfully most of my things are resistant to fire damage (being pyromaniac doesn't mean I like to buy new stuff to replace the burned ones) so it only burned as hot water would if one spilt a tea on himself (I know that from experience). I scrambled to my legs and started to run.
„Don't run, you slimy snake!“
„Fuck you! Fuck you!“ A cutting spell hit the back of my shoulder. „Fuck! Fuck!“ Most of my clothing is reinforced because of THIS so it didn't hurt me as much as it should – but few centimetres up and my head would not be as tightly screwed on as it is supposed to. I tried to get away through small hidden pathways but they managed to keep up with me. I wasn't expecting a familiar face to save me – I was mostly expecting he would cooperate with those cock-suckers behind me. Thankfully Marcus' wand wasn't pointed at me when he fired some unknown spell at them.
„Find someone your own size,“ he frowned his unibrow threateningly at them, muscular arms folded over his chest. Without a hint of shame, I hid behind him. After they ran away in fear of the big boy, he told me: „You shouldn't walk around alone.“
„Like it changes anything – they are still assholes who would attack me, just add my friends into the mix.“ I got from behind him, straightening my rumpled layers.
„They were Ravenclaws and one Hufflepuff – why does your own house attack you?“
„They attacked me even before – and I hated them since the first week in Hogwarts. Thanks for the help!“ He caught my wrist when I tried to walk away.
„You look horrible.“
„Thank you, you too,“ I deadpanned and tried to pry his hands off my bony joint. „Where are you dragging me?“
„You need to tell a teacher-“
„No teacher ever helped me with bullying.“ He stopped and looked at me. This was the first time I saw a badge on his robes. Fucking prefect...
„What?“
„I was bullied ever since I started to visit a school – kids like to do that to smart people, for some reason. And neither of us knows those idiots, so what can we even do?“
„Snape could at least help you with the fact you obviously aren't sleeping.“
„I will today – I never sleep two days in a row. And yesterday was my awake-night.“
„That's – well – and where do you sleep?“
„Abandoned classroom. My dorms are unsafe and even Griffins are cross with me because of the snake thing. Which is your fault, technically speaking.“
„Everyone is stupid - aren't you mudblood?“ Ok, ignore that part about ‚it's your fault‘. I'm not salty – not at all.
„Adopted, but raised by muggles. Shouldn't you hate me for that, as a true Slytherin?“ I raised a sarcastic eyebrow and he grinned. Nice to see another person who enjoys my great humour.
„You are too talented to be mudblood, Bundy. They treat you like a snake so you can find peace in the snake den, don't you think?“
„Why are you so nice?“
„Even if you are not the one who petrifies people, you are still the heir – that is enough to warrant association with you.“
„If you're tricking me, I will release twins on your ass.“
„Deal.“
And that's how I befriended Slytherins – not all of them, but more people than in any other house. I used their delightful sofa and sometimes stole beds from those who prefered company while falling asleep. They used me as a book that held all the knowledge they needed – and didn't even mind when I called them stupid for not knowing basic facts. Severus walked on me and ten 7th years making homework and could only stare because they were so stupid I was forced to dictate why non-verbal casting is so difficult.
„What-“
„The fuck?“ I tried to help while munching on a bar of chocolate which was a payment for help with runes homework. Hufflepuffs never give me things when I help.
„It's after the curfew – why are you here?“
„I'm helping with their homework. McGonagall says that this week she can't come, but Poppy is still free – so, will you join us?“
„Bundy, we told you you can't just break the rules.“
„So no sleeping in Corvus's bed? He promised me he would-“ Corvus' girlfriend put her hand on my mouth, red as freshly spilt blood.
„You are supposed to sleep in your OWN BED!“
„...Nah, I prefer this,“ I said after biting her hand. „You can give me detention!“ I knew he couldn't hit me with a spell, so I was confident in my capability of hiding from him if necessary. But Marcus came to my rescue, whispered something to the potions teacher and my ass was saved.
„I won't be as nice next time, Henry. Detention, tomorrow at seven.“
„You should tell him,“ Marcus told me after he stole a piece of my chocolate.
„Go fuck yourself.“
***
Henry was the first in our group who knew Luna was bullied, however after showing a big portion of the school that he can speak to snakes he had too many of his own problems to really take care of the smaller raven. That and his friendship with her made it even worse for her – first it was the fact that they hated his guts just because of himself but now – now they found a reason beyond ‚He's annoying.’. Now they thought he was the Slytherin's heir, that he was the one attacking muggle-born students. Nobody thought about the fact his family was very much NOT magical.
So George and myself decided to help her – although I wanted to help HIM first. She needed it more. Henry can take care of himself.
George tried to be at her side as often as he could and I watched her and people around her on the Map. Most of her bullies were girls from Hermione's and Henry's year – but her roommates stole from her most often. We pranked them mercilessly but it didn't help at all. To avoid detention or expulsion, we stopped ourselves from going into the Ravenclaw tower with wands blazing. But what would be another way to help her?
Then it hit me – we could go to some authority. Not Flitwick, because god knows how he would act around a friend of Henry's in that situation. He never adored us but after we started to hang out with the young raven he started to ignore us. Maybe Snape or McGonagall? They would probably try to help, but to what extent would they succeed? They could only make it worse because they don't know those Ravens that well. What is another possibility?
…Percy. He dates a Ravenclaw prefect and he himself always hated bullying. He was happy to help and not only because of that – we were really nice to him that summer (after seeing Henry's siblings and how they always tried to make him angry, we felt bad for Percy who was in the raven's place and we were those annoying siblings - it's worse when you see it from a different point of view) which means only a nice plead was enough for him to help us. We gave him names and his girlfriend managed to get those fucking girls into so many problems they wished Henry was the one to deal with their behaviour (death is often less cruel).
At least it looked like it before their head of house stepped in and saved their asses from the worst punishments. I was truly starting to hate Flitwick as much as Henry does. He was almost as bad as Lockhart – the only plus he had was the lack of touchiness. I was increasingly getting worried (not that Henry said more than some angry growling about too many hair-ruffles and forced hugs). Any detention with the young raven was handled by Snape (not even McGonagall could handle him – she assigned him lines to write and ended up with a paper filled with ‘Go fuck yourself’ from the top to the bottom in Henry's unreadable chicken scratch), however, Lockhart would never give up detentions he gave Henry (because of stupid reasons, like not paying attention in his class even though he knew the correct answer to any question the writer had for him).
Well, it meant we were on square one and Henry finally convinced Luna to sleep in our room. He wasn't sleeping there as often as he used to – obviously, he found a better place for his back but he was secretive where it was. I know he wasn't sleeping in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor and I doubt Susan or Hannah would find him as cute as we do. There was the possibility of Slytherin because he started to talk with some older years recently – but why would they house him?
„Fred,“ George bumped into me before potions. „dad wrote that mum is making sweaters for everyone – bar Henry.“ My jaws started to hurt with the power of my teeth-grinding.
„He's the only one who willingly wears those things!“ I took the letter and skimmed it quickly. „Why is she such a bitch?“ I muttered under my breath. George laughed.
„Henry is rubbing off on you, brother of mine. We can give him ours?“
„It's not that - it's the thought, not the gift itself. He's our best friend – and nothing against them – but Hermione and Luna will get theirs and not him?“
„If you say it like that... we can make him one!“ His eyes shined with crazy excitement. I worry someone will end up pierced through by a knitting needle. „There is a spell for that, isn't it?“
A few hours later we found out that yes – there really is a spell but it works off of existing muscle memory and it just repeats the cycle. So you need to know how to knit on your own. And there were no books about knitting. We asked Hermione and she knew how to croche – we were clueless about the difference so we tried it. And found out that that specific spell needs two needles.
We managed to deconstruct the old spell and made a new one for crocheting – the final product was still ghastly but we made a piece of clothing! Through Hermione's parents, we bought white wool for most of the sweater (the colour choice was inspired by his beloved labcoat) and light brown for a bastardized silhouette of a potion bottle – we wanted to make it personalized and were cocky, thinking we could make something as complex as a shape of any kind. Luna had the easiest job of us all – she laughed at our failures and never praised our successes (is it part of being Ravenclaw?).
It was a joined gift from the three of us but we prepared small things on our own – but those we packaged, this one we wanted to give him personally and see how he looked in it (before he burned holes into it). I was picked as the one who would give it to him so I was the poor soul that stuttered through apologies why it's not perfect under his sharp gaze (he was obviously confused what I'm talking about but I know that now, not then). George and Hermione would probably be even worse.
What I liked was that I was the first to see his shocked and then quietly happy look when he squeezed the plush piece of clothing in his spidery hands and a rare blush came to his cheeks (rare in the sense that he was far from angry). „Thank you – there was no need to make me one if your mother is a bitch,“ he said with his usual monotone voice but the look was still on his face.
How can he be so cute?