Chapter 2
It was Thursday. It was cold, wet and miserable. In all fairness, it was November, and Scotland, so Cordelia could hardly expect a scorcher. But still, it didn’t need to piss rain the one day a week she had Magical Creatures. Today was not the day to be sat outside looking at the giant squid in the lake. Everyone who got to their seventh year of Hogwarts had seen it at some point, and it hadn’t miraculously transformed into anything else before nine o clock that morning. Alas, the things she did for Professor Ferox to still give her a scraping pass. It was bias, it had to be, because Cordelia Methors was a well-known delight. It’s not her fault he happened to stumble upon her well-hidden smoking haunt, -down the back of the greenhouses, perched behind a Dragonbreath Monstera- and besides, she’d served her time for that, too. A two hour detention with none other than the infamous Marauders was punishment enough for anyone. Forget Azkaban, all one needed to do was submit some poor soul to their incessant babbling over seemingly nothing, and one aforementioned poor soul would find themselves clinging to the shards of their despair, as their earlier joys are ripped away. They were dementors, dressed in Gryffindor robes, only no Patronus was strong enough to get rid of them.
Cordelia pitied Snape. He had to put up with the brunt of their attentions more than most. Not that Cordelia liked him much, either. He was too uppity, one of those hung up on those backward notions of blood-purity.
Blood is a blend or water, salts and proteins, with a couple cells thrown in. The only time it’s “impure” is if you pump your veins with enough drugs to turn it to tar and shite. No inbreeding required, quick and easy.
God, what she wouldn’t give for a cigarette right now. Ferox had confiscated her hand-rolled, and her lighter. No doubt they were sat in his office, 3rd drawer down, with her bottle of fire whiskey from last year. He’d probably dipped into them, too. She’d spied him smoking while on courtyard duties during lunch, while half the female student body fawned over him, and that daft quiff. He didn’t look remotely like an American film star, no matter what Mary McDonald said.
It was merely the fact they were deprived of another male teacher that wasn’t yet old enough to draw the pension. Apart from Slughorn, but he looked mostly there.
Her school robes did little to keep the cold out. Even in the Wizarding World, school uniforms were the most uncomfortable and horribly designed items of clothing ever. Coats weren’t even allowed. Cordelia’s was sitting in McGonegal’s office right now. It seemed most of her personal belongings were sat in the offices of some professor or another. So, she was cold, soaked to the bone, and dying for a smoke, painting her utterly oblivious to whatever Ferox was talking about.
“Ms. Methors?”
Shit. She’d missed the question, and the rest of today’s lesson.
“Sir?”
“Can you answer as to why the Squid’s eyes differ in size?”
She hadn’t a breeze. Maybe it was a Bowie fan? Maybe it was just malformed? Maybe whoever brought it to the lake as a baby squid had bought it half price from a dodgy squid dealer?
“It’s inbred.”
A safe bet, considering nearly everyone in Slytherin was, and the lake was the main feature of their common room.
“No, ms. Methors. If you were listening, you would have know it is because-”
She tuned him out again. She didn’t care much about a squid and his special specs prescription. She should’ve picked Divination. Listening to Trelawny’s antics would have been far more entertaining than this. And you basically have a tea party every class.
“Ms. Methors, see me after class.”
Great. The four words that she didn’t need a crystal ball to decipher their meaning. Detention, Saturday morning, 2 hours for lack of participation, and insolence.
At least the chances of the Marauders being there were little to none. It was a Hogsmeade week, and Sirius Black never avoided the opportunity to swan about in his ridiculous leather jacket. The Marauders also weren’t sold separately. Thankfully.
Although, Remus wasn’t terrible on his own. Cordelia could hardly talk bad about the one who she would probably have to buy her cigarettes off for the foreseeable.
o0o
“Have you anything to say about your earlier behaviour, ms. Methors?”
“No, sir.”
“That’s not good enough. It’s disrespectful. I have a class to teach, and I can’t be expected to stop the lesson every few minutes to make sure you are paying attention. You are one bad test away from failing this subject, and you make no effort to improve. You picked this class, might I remind you. Can you not at least pretend to care about your N.E.W.Ts, and by in large, your future?”
“Sir, it was early, I was cold, my mind was elsewhere. I wasn’t the only student half-asleep.”
“But you are the only one failing. It is not a difficult subject, but you refuse to put the work in. Your attitude simply is not good enough. You don’t seem to care about your future at all. You waste your time smoking and drinking when you ought to be studying. You’re reckless, careless, and downright belligerent. I put you in detention, time and time again, but nothing seems to get through to you. So I ask, what will?”
“Come on, that was one ti-”
Ferox held a hand up to stop her.
“Enough. I’m sick of you. I’ll give you 6 weeks to make an effort, and if you’re so much as caught out of bed after lights out in that time, not only am I failing you, but I’ll forbid you from going to the Yule Ball. Will you heed me now?”
“Sir, that’s not-”
“It is a simple yes or no answer, Cordelia.”
“Fine, yes. Okay. I’ll make a change.”
“You are dismissed.”
She walked out of Ferox’s office, nursing an oncoming headache. A detention would have been so much easier, even if she had to put up with Sirius Black and company. If only. At least then, she would have been able to keep smoking.