The BIGGEST sleepover
I came to mine and Luna’s dorms and found too many people lazing on the couch and the floor. Luna and Fred sat next to each other on their blue perch and rose their eyes from thick tomes just to say hello to me. Hermione and George were playing chess (and Hermione was visibly frustrated because George plays with a style so chaotic, I refuse to play with him) and ignored me.
“Haven’t you learned you can only play luck-based games?” I grinned and fell in between Fred and Luna.
“He cheats at those!”
I pulled out the puzzle I got and accioed a spiral-bound notebook. It wasn’t any of the basic codes I read about in middle school when I decided to fuck with my classmates and started to code my notes. Some brave souls wanted to copy them and sometimes even managed to read my chicken-scratch – so I decided to make it even harder for them.
First, I need to decipher the runes and then it should be much easier. But I don’t know most of them – I only recognized one Old English rune and three from Celtic. I could send some of them to Burkes and let him find as many books as he can – I already read all the books in Hogwarts Library that looked into different types of runes used in warding and spell-creation.
I pushed a little bit of magic into it, because why the fuck not – and it did nothing, which excited me. It meant more work for me which is great because besides training my practical capabilities I have nothing to do at the moment.
“Why is Neville’s biggest fear you screaming at him?” asked defeated Hermione who fell on the floor near my feet.
“News travel fast,” I hummed and tried to kick her shoulder with the leg that wasn’t bent close to my chest. I couldn’t reach her, which annoyed me but didn’t put any effort into actually kicking her. “Are you excited for Care of Magical Creatures?”
“I heard Hagrid is the one who teaches it – I didn’t know he was a certified teacher.”
“He’s not, but Dumbledore gave him the position as he has a great deal of practical experience,” said Fred and put down his book. “Lee had a class with him already and said he was decent.”
“He said he was not the smartest – but COOL. He showed them hippogriffs!” George corrected his brother and crawled away to grab my music player. He turned on music and picked up his homework like all of us – we made a tradition of doing homework together. And music only made it better, even though Hermione got distracted by my instinctual headbanging. Good thing it wasn’t fucking with my speech-to-text hack!
The next day we finally had the Magical Creatures class. Hagrid took us deeper into the woods and told those who didn’t know shady book stores how to calm down their books. I found it amusing how most people were unaware that stroking the spine worked like charm – only me and Hermione had known. Stupid cunts.
A dozen hippogriffs were trotting around the clearing and I felt a need to pluck a feather or draw blood from such unusual creatures. That need made me step out of the retreating crowd when Hagrid asked if someone would like to interact with them as the first one. Hermione tried to tug me back but I was already listening to Hagrid’s instructions on how to approach them carefully.
I bowed shallowly but Hagrid forced me to bow deeper. Only after that the hippogriff I stood before bowed back, but as shallowly as I did before. Fucking hell. I went to it slowly, cautiously – I might like my scar but I would appreciate it if I could keep the other eye. With my luck, I will lose it sooner than later.
“Try to pet it!” Hagrid cheered me on so I pushed my hand into its personal space. Thankfully my hand stayed connected to my arm and the only sensation under my fingers were coarse feathers on the beasts head.
How angry would it be if I plucked a feather? I wondered before being forced on the back of the hippogriff I was petting and there was no wondering about anything else besides how to hold onto it and not die. I plucked several feathers and some of them got away from me, but I managed to stash into my pocket a good two handfuls at least.
I felt that my hair stood at almost a right angle in relation to my scalp and Hermione snickered while she attempted to help me with my new wild hairstyle. I saw some Slytherin get attacked by the hippogriff that kidnapped me from my safe place on the ground and I couldn’t help but grin when he moaned and cried fakely. Hagrid calmed the enraged beast down and only then did I get up and look at the blonds injured arm.
“Calm down,” I told him coldly and waved my wand over it to disinfect it. Another pain-filled noise escaped him so I numbed it down just to grab it so I could get a closer look. “Nothing life-threatening,” I told the whimpering blond and started to close his injury with one of the darker healing spells I learned. His magic reacted to it better than Hermione’s when I healed a cut from broken glass after she accidentally cooled her piping hot potion bottle too quickly. Her magic wasn’t helping me, but his pushed the efficiency of the spell into previously unseen heights. Our magics are probably more compatible if books about that are more than fiction.
“Thank you, Heir Bundy-Potter.” His voice was calmer and his face changed into a cold mask. I was surprised by the title he used – nobody called me that, besides goblins.
“No problem.”
“Draco Malfoy,” he offered me his not-recently-healed arm so I helped him stand up. He tried to shake it but I escaped easily and buried my hands deep into my lab coat’s pockets. “We never had the chance to speak when you were in the Slytherin Dorms.”
“Well, I never talked with anyone younger than fifth years, so that might be the issue,” I shrugged. “But I do know your surname – are you related to Lucius Malfoy?”
“Yes, that’s my father!” His chest puffed out. “How do you know him?”
“Personal reasons.”
He took it in stride. “You can come and eat at the Slytherin table anytime you want, you know? Marcus told me this morning to tell you he misses his favourite spell target and as the honorary Slytherin Heir you should spend more time with someone else than those horrible lions,” his nose scrunched up.
“There are only a few lions with redeeming qualities – just like Ravens, there are some gems. And tell Marcus not to worry, I need to train for my NEWTs so I will come sooner than later.”
“I’ll tell him,” he nodded and went to join his friends in green. People that made a ring around us went away from my scowl so I got back to Hermione without a need to curse anyone. I preferred when I was just an asshole – looked at only because I screamed at somebody and not because of my fucking name.
***
I couldn’t help myself from pacing around the girl's bathroom. Is Soteria angry at me? I’m sure she is, it took me so long to get here. She must hear me, like she heard me after that day with Lockhart – but there is no soft hissing telling me to open the tubes.
I paced quicker.
Did her eye get infected? For sure something like an infection couldn’t kill a basilisk… right? There are no papers on how magical creatures react to infections and illnesses like rabies. Can she get ticks? Or is her blood acidic enough? Or are there small magical parasites that wouldn’t be affected by such a thing? This thinking got me into an even worse state than I was before, but it made me open the entrance and I jogged to the main hall of the chamber.
“Soteria?!” I called and looked around. “Where are you?!” I looked everywhere, even going to the library even though she wouldn’t fit there. I remember Tom opened a different room, so I tried that. “Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four!” The mouth of a statue of Salazar Slytherin slowly opened, but Soteria didn’t come out. I went in and used Lumos to see.
She was curled into a big spiral – her body was moving, showing she was at least breathing. She can’t be hibernating, right? It’s too warm outside (for a Scotland) for her to do that. “Soteria, are you alright?” Her reaction was non-existent, so I put a hand on her and tried to wake her up with slow strokes of her silky smooth scales. “Fucking hell, what is wrong with you?” I climbed up on her and searched where her face might be. “Soteria!” I yelled close to her face that was tucked under one loop of her body. I was close to her healthy eye so I could see minute twitches in her eyelid so I looked the other way.
I used a heating charm to help her with waking up and stayed on her, now calmer. “Little heir?” she hissed, sleep heavily present in her tone. “Do you need my help?”
“Why were you sleeping? It’s not winter – or too cold!”
“My master made it so when no one needs me, I hibernate. There is a spell on this room and only an heir can open it up when they need me.”
“But… that’s boring. And don’t you need to eat?”
“I don’t understand it, but there are stasis charms that keep me in the state I was in when I went to sleep. That’s how I lived for so long, in a way.”
“…so should I let you sleep?”
“Oh no, little heir. I like your presence – I just thought you wouldn’t want to spend time with me anymore, after what I did.”
“Forced to do. And – we match!” I tried to use my best happy grin and pointed my Lumos on my face so she could see. “Does yours still hurt? I can bring you some creams or potions or try some spells?”
“I heal quickly, little heir. I was fully healed days after our unfortunate battle. But you – how are you? I feel your eye is not fully yours.”
“It’s a magical prosthetic so I can see through it. But, I made it better and now I have a thermal vision if I look only through the magical eye. Like some breeds of snakes who see infrared sensing.”
“And what it all means, hatchling?”
How to put it simply so she understands? “I can see the temperature of things – it’s good for sensing people and other creatures, but also makes it easy to know how hot is a potion or a cooling cauldron.”
“That sounds useful. Master always burned his hands on hot tools,” her tone got softer with memories and her tail hugged me around the torso. I’m glad she’s so chill about all of this. “Are you going to visit me through the school year, little heir?”
“Yes, I enjoy your presence.” That and her coils are supremely comfortable, even though I now have a safe bed. I’m too used to sleeping around the castle.
***
Somehow, the first months of the third year were the weirdest of them all. I still enjoyed classes with Minerva and Herbology, Runes and Arithmetacy stimulated my bored mind more than History and Charms. However, my adornment for Potions was dying – in contrast, I began to enjoy DADA. Remus was a great teacher, even though some talked hushedly about his tattered robes and unkempt look. His clothes had no holes in them so I saw no problem. My lab coats were much worse and nobody told me anything. (Not even Slytherins, who tried to make me get a different haircut and to put on something else than muggle clothes under my robes and lab coat.)
Severus was getting on my nerves though. He stopped visiting our ‘book club’ and treated me like a normal student. I tried to scream some sense into him but he slammed the door in front of my fucking face. Minerva told me he needs time, but why – she never said. Not even Luna had an answer, which was unusual. What she talked about was that Halloween was coming close and the yearly disaster is near. Why is the thirty-first of October such an unlucky date? Troll, the first petrified victim – and what will happen this year? I hope for an explosion or arson, but I doubt my wishes will come true (unless I help my luck…).
“We should create something that would turn people into Halloween monsters on the feast,” I thought aloud while thinking of creative ways to harass our classmates with twins.
“But how would we do that?” Fred asked, while George grinned and excitedly started to go through my books on transfiguration.
“Probably transforming their robes, right?” he tossed an idea.
“Difficult on large scale,” argued Fred.
“We can centre on some assholes – or table, perhaps.”
“Like Ravenclaws?”
“Or teachers,” I cackled widely, my mind set on making Severus suffer for his actions. And getting Flitwick was just an added bonus.
“That would be extra hard.”
“We could make it random? Put runes on the benches and who sits there, suffers?” George stroked his non-existent beard in deep thought.
“That might be doable… I could make a template for the runes, and spells can be researched, but what monsters shall we pick?”
“Classics, like werewolves, vampires…”
“Mummies, zombies…”
“I can make some from muggle movies and books.”
“First, let's find the spells!”
Random is a strong word – I know exactly where Severus sits.
***
Chaos, wonderful chaos ruled the Great Hall after our prank took effect. I looked around and grinned at Luna, who had fairy wings on her back and her robes changed into light coloured dress suitable for a creature that dances in the moonlight. I’m sure she knew exactly where to sit.
Henry had eyes only for Snape, who was fuming with big fangs in his mouth and wolf ears in his greasy hair. They were in a bad place in their relationship and I had a feeling I know why – the professor must have realized that he befriended a child. Seeing someone break down in their mother’s arms does that to a man (I myself sometimes forget he’s the second youngest in our group). I wonder if Henry knows – or even suspects. I would tell him, but I don’t want him to kill the potion master for his ‘idiocy’.
I myself kept human charms, but George changed into a weird character with a mask over his face. One of the monsters Henry made. The mask had holes in it and three red marks, strapped to him by leather straps. Muggle-borns visibly recognized him, their shrieks telling me as such. Hermione wasn’t one of the pranked but she brought cat ears and put them on – I believe she tried to force Henry to do the same but he protested loudly and harmfully so no Henritten.
What a shame.
“Weasley!” Snape fumed and came closer to us. “What is this, you imbeciles?!”
“I have no idea,”
“Professor! We just ate and talked-“
“And then Gred changed into this!” I ended and tried to look as innocent as I could. It was difficult to stop giggling when his words had a different accent thanks to his new fangs.
“We are good,”
“But not this good.”
“Pinky swear!”
He looked between us, before storming out of the Great Hall with his usual dramatic billowing robes. “Why nobody ever suspects me?” Henry asked without being much quiet. ”It’s not like I look fucking innocent or incompetent.”
“I think it’s obvious because your presence made our jokes better,”
“But people like to be ignorant. What am I, anyway?”
“Jason Voorhees, a movie character who murders promiscuous teenagers.”
“You watch horror?” Henry asked Hermione, his eyebrow high.
“Only sometimes,” she shrugged. “And he’s pretty well known. How long will the spell work?” she lowered her volume and whispered that into my ear.
“Henry said it should reverse around midnight,” I muttered under my breath.
“Pitty – I wanted to see all the costumes.”
“We have sketches if you want to look really that much. Henry said he would sleep with us, so we can go over them before going to sleep.”
“Oh, ok. Thanks, Fred.” Students enjoyed the costumes, which wasn’t our plan exactly, but it was nice to see our hard work appreciated. We drew and hid the runes for two whole nights and right now my brother and I survive only on pepper-up potions and Henry’s chocolate stocks. The crazy raven himself was only lightly sleepy, as he was the only one of us used to no sleep for so long.
“Which bed will it be this time?” George lifted his mask and grinned at the younger boy.
“I always sleep with Fred, if Hermione is not there with us. Why are you asking?”
“I thought you were angry at his… morning poking?”
“It’s natural, I just told him not to hump me next time,” he rolled his eyes, not considering my poor heart that will combust with embarrassment. Merlin, I hope nobody is listening. “You would be probably the same in that regard. And you bitch much more when I kick or bite or just hog a blanket. And when I wake up, in general.”
“My brother has a permanent scar from your ‘waking up’ – sorry that I don’t wish to be THAT similar, little raven.”
“Your loss,” Hermione elbowed him cheekily. “Eat your vegetables, Henry.”
“I already ate fuck ton of roasted potatoes, mum. With chicken, so, proteins.”
“More vitamins never hurt.”
“Fuck you, bitch. Why am I the one who you bitch about?”
“Twins eat more than one meal a day. And that one meal is never a bar of chocolate.”
“Fuck you. I drink nutrient potions if I don’t eat. A human can live off of them for a month.”
“If they need to – and it’s bad for your stomach!”
“Digestive system in general, but I eat full meals at least five times a week!”
This argument is not new, only the participants change. I had that talk with him last year, George at the start of this and now Hermione. I bet his mother screams at him often about it – or just force-feeds him. I can see that.
It gives me bad ideas.
“Let’s go to the dorms,” I encouraged them to stop arguing and dragged Henry up when he seemed like he would pout and continue with his fucks and bitches and ‘I’m right’ speeches. “Don’t know how about you, but I’m beat.”
“Yeah, I need a good sleep,” George groaned and got up too, Hermione close behind him. We left as one of the first people from our table – Ron looked like he would again be one of the last people to leave the feast. I wonder where he puts all that food. “Do you think this Halloween will be chill?”
“I expect an explosion,” Henry’s eyes shined with magic and mad excitement.
“You always wish for a fire or explosion,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “I think we will know in the morning. Maybe those dementors attack some poor soul outside the castle!”
“Or the dark wizard Sirius Black kills an unsuspecting student-“ I jumped on Henry, who shrieked and fell under my weight. All of us laughed and he too smiled and lightly cackled, when I helped him to stand up.
“I wonder if he knows some fun spells.”
“Of course he does – you for sure would like that exploding charm he used on those muggles.”
“I read he fucked up the gas pipes, so that’s why it was so damaging. Either way, ten out of ten, would like to see.”
“We could try something in a smaller size, couldn’t we? You said muggles can buy a propane-butan tank, so that might simulate it enough.“
“I can buy it together with my cigarettes during the holidays. Do you think there is a book about explosive spells only? I can write to Burkes…” we discussed that during our ascend to the Griffindor tower but we were stopped by the sight of a damaged portrait.
“Fuck,” came from four mouths.
We went back to talk to the teachers – and when we met fellow lions, we told them that our dorms are blocked. They either sat on the steps or walked back with us. Percy followed us and became our spokesperson it the matter, even though his info was second-hand. He still put it more eloquently than any of us could (there was no fuck or cunt in his sentence – a big step from our usual diplomat).
Out of the yearly bad-thing-happen-on-Halloween came out the biggest sleepover anyone ever saw. All the students were in their sleeping bags in the Great Hall, usually in a group that consisted of their house, however, we were original, as was expected. Henry fell into a discussion with a group of older Slytherins about why ALL houses needed to evacuate their dorms, so our group ended up on the snake territory. George joined the conversation, while I tried to stay awake. Luna already fell asleep and she ended with a drawn-on moustache. I wish to evade that fate.
“But why would he go to Griffin’s dorms? Everybody says he’s after you,” Marcus Flint asked Henry, who was for once in his own pyjamas that Luna brought him. He usually steals what is the most comfortable – I already lost four sweaters and a pair of sleeping pants.
“Either he’s after someone else, or he’s crazy and doesn’t know I’m a raven? My parents were lions and people often think that child goes to the same house as their parents.”
“He’s crazy even if he’s not after you, Slytherin Heir.”
“Are you sad you can’t pick which bed looks the comfiest?” Adrian Pucey grinned at Henry.
“We call him the Virgin Whore of Slytherin because he slept in more beds than any other person,” snickered a female I never talked with (I only know their Quidditch players). She seemed like a sixth year, maybe even older.
“Better than The-Boy-Who-Lived,” Henry shrugged.
“At least we can say he sleeps with lions – and not just their beds,” George hummed with a sleepy smile. I giggled and some snakes joined.
More and more people fell into the kingdom of dreams so we lied down too after too many shoos and angry remarks that we laughed at. I never guessed I would enjoy snakes so much – it shouldn’t surprise me, after all, the hat gave me chance to wear green.
Even though we had all the space on the ground we needed, Henry ended up close enough to me that my sleeping form reached for its favourite teddy bear and I cuddled him mercilessly. It ended up like any other sleep-over with Henry – my wonderful bite-alarm woke me up around five in the morning.