Mrs Magic
After the unsettling encounter with Michael, Terry, and Randolph, Lucille sought the comfort and distraction of the Gryffindor common room. She quickly found Fred, George, and Lee Jordan huddled in a corner, their heads bent together in animated discussion. The trio was surrounded by various items that looked suspiciously like the makings of their next big prank.
"Hey, Lucille," Fred greeted her with a grin as she approached. "Perfect timing. We could use another pair of hands."
George winked. "And eyes. And ears. We’ve got a lot to do."
Lee Jordan looked up from a stack of parchment filled with intricate diagrams and notes. "We’re planning something truly spectacular for Snape’s next Potions class."
Lucille’s interest was piqued. "What’s the plan?" she asked, eager to be included.
Fred leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "We’re going to enchant his cauldron to spew out multicolored smoke that smells like rotten eggs. Should be a real treat for the Slytherins."
George laughed. "And we’ve got some specially prepared ingredients that will turn everything they touch into something ridiculous. Imagine Snape with bright pink hair."
Lucille couldn’t help but laugh at the mental image. "What do you need me to do?"
Fred handed her a small vial of shimmering powder. "We need you to mix this into the powdered bicorn horn in Snape’s stores. It’ll activate once the potion is heated."
Lucille nodded, determined to do her part perfectly. As she set to work, she noticed Ron, Harry, and Hermione sitting by the fireplace. Hermione was enthusiastically explaining something, while Harry and Ron looked less than thrilled.
"And remember," Hermione said, her voice firm, "we need to show the house-elves that we care about their well-being. That’s why we’re knitting these sweaters for them. They’ll be free once they wear them."
Ron rolled his eyes and, catching sight of Lucille, leaned over and whispered, "Hermione’s gone mental. She’s making us knit sweaters for the house-elves. Can you believe it?"
Lucille laughed softly, trying not to draw Hermione’s attention. "Sounds like Hermione," she replied with a grin.
Ron grinned back. "At least someone else thinks it’s mental."
Their camaraderie was a far cry from the tension of the previous year. Lucille had saved Ron from a werewolf during a particularly dangerous incident last spring, an act that had forged a bond between them. Since then, her relationship with Ron, and by extension Harry and Hermione, had improved significantly. They no longer quarreled over petty things, and Hermione had even helped Lucille with her studies, showing her a side of the Gryffindor girl she hadn’t appreciated before.
As Lucille continued her work with the twins, she felt a sense of belonging that she had been missing for so long. The Gryffindor common room buzzed with energy and warmth, a stark contrast to the isolation she had felt in Ravenclaw.
"Alright, Lucille," George said, handing her another vial. "This one’s for the boomslang skin. Just a tiny bit will do the trick."
She nodded, carefully adding the powder to the specified ingredients. Fred and George moved around the room, making final adjustments and ensuring everything was in place.
Lee Jordan looked up from his diagrams and grinned. "This is going to be legendary. Snape won’t know what hit him."
Lucille felt a surge of excitement. Despite the challenges she faced, moments like these reminded her of the joys of friendship and the simple pleasures of mischief and camaraderie.
As they wrapped up their preparations, Lucille glanced over at Ron, Harry, and Hermione. Hermione was now demonstrating a knitting technique, her enthusiasm undiminished. Harry was attempting to follow along, while Ron was clearly struggling, his hands tangled in yarn.
Lucille caught Ron’s eye, and they shared a conspiratorial smile. Despite everything, she felt a sense of hope and resilience. With friends like these, she could face whatever came her way.
That evening, as she left the Gryffindor common room, Lucille felt lighter than she had in weeks.
The aftermath of the prank on Snape was inevitable. Fred, George, Lee, and Lucille found themselves facing a very irate Potions Master, and the points deducted from Gryffindor and Ravenclaw respectively were significant. Despite the loss, the thrill of the prank and the shared laughter made it worth the punishment for Lucille. She returned to her dormitory, feeling lighter, her spirits buoyed by the camaraderie of the evening.
However, her good mood quickly dissipated when she entered her dormitory to find Sue Li, Morag MacDougal, and Lisa Turpin waiting for her, their expressions stormy.
"We’ve decided," Sue began, her voice cold, "that you should leave this dorm."
Lucille felt her heart sink but steeled herself. "No way," she replied firmly. "I will absolutely not."
Morag’s eyes narrowed. "We don’t feel safe around evil halfbreeds.You’re right, you shouldn’t just leave. Your sort of nasty creatures deserve no education or life."
The tension in the room was palpable, each girl’s anger and fear feeding off the others. Lucille’s anger flared. "I’m not going anywhere. I haven’t done anything wrong."
Lisa, who had been silent up to this point, stepped forward, her face twisted with contempt. "You’ve done plenty by just existing here." She pulled out her wand, and with a swift, reckless flick, she ignited Lucille’s bed and cupboard. The flames roared to life, quickly consuming the bedclothes and wooden furniture.
"No!" Lucille screamed, lunging forward in a futile attempt to save her belongings. Her roommates stepped back, their expressions ranging from shock to satisfaction.
The door burst open, and Roberta, the Ravenclaw prefect, stormed in, her wand already out. "Aguamenti!" she cried, directing a jet of water at the flames. The fire hissed and sputtered, but it was too late. Lucille’s bed was a charred mess, her cupboard reduced to ashes.
Amid the wreckage, Lucille saw the remains of the dress she had spent all summer sewing by hand from old clothes. The fabric was now blackened and scorched beyond recognition. She felt a lump rise in her throat but swallowed it down, refusing to cry in front of her roommates.
Roberta turned to the other girls, her expression thunderous. "What happened here?"
Sue Li and Morag MacDougal started to protest, but Roberta silenced them with a sharp gesture. "Enough. All of you, to Professor Flitwick’s office. Now."
Lucille trailed behind them, her heart heavy. In Flitwick’s office, they found Professor McGonagall waiting, her stern face promising no leniency.
One by one, the girls were called in to explain. When it was Lucille’s turn, she stepped forward, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. "They want me out of the dorm because I’m a werewolf. When I refused to leave, Lisa burned my things."
McGonagall’s eyes softened slightly, but her tone remained firm. "I have received many letters from parents, concerned about your presence here, Lucille. Some even demanding your expulsion."
Lucille’s anger bubbled up. "So, what now? They burn my things, and I’m the one who gets punished?"
McGonagall exchanged a look with Flitwick. "We will keep quiet about tonight’s incident," she said. "There is no need to inform Remus. The school will replace your burnt belongings, but it would be best if you moved to another dormitory."
Lucille’s fists clenched at her sides. "And what about them? They just get away with it?"
Flitwick stepped in, his voice gentle but firm. "We are dealing with the situation, Lucille. Roberta will take you to a new dorm in the highest Ravenclaw tower. It’s a bit old and unused, but it’s a quiet place."
Still fuming, Lucille followed Roberta through the winding corridors of the castle. They climbed staircases that grew progressively narrower until they reached a small, secluded room at the very top of the tower. It was dusty and furnished with three ancient-looking beds.
Roberta gave her a sympathetic look. "I’m sorry about all this, Lucille. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask."
Lucille nodded, stepping into the room. "Thank you, Roberta."
Once alone, Lucille surveyed her new quarters. The room was indeed old and hidden away, but it was also quiet and secluded. She sat on one of the beds, her anger gradually giving way to a strange sense of peace. Despite everything, she realized she preferred solitude over the hostile company of her former roommates.
As the moonlight filtered through the dusty windows, Lucille allowed herself to relax. She had faced worse than this, and she would continue to endure. Alone in the highest tower of Ravenclaw, she found a small solace in the quiet. After all, she had been alone most of her life, and in some ways, it was easier than trying to fit into a world that didn’t want her.
The atmosphere at Hogwarts was electric as the Triwizard Tournament began. Students eagerly lined up to drop their names into the Goblet of Fire, each hoping for a chance to participate in the prestigious event. The excitement was palpable, with even the youngest students trying to get a glimpse of the magical selection process.
Fred and George Weasley, eager as ever, tried to put their names in, but their efforts were in vain. "We’re not even seventeen yet," Fred grumbled, frustration evident in his voice.
George chuckled, trying to keep the mood light. "Maybe next time, eh? If we’re still alive."
The Goblet of Fire roared to life as it spat out the names of the champions. The crowd fell silent in anticipation, and the name of each chosen champion was met with awe and excitement. But when Harry Potter’s name was announced, shock rippled through the crowd. The entire school was abuzz, and a wave of jealousy and anger was directed at him.
The Slytherins were quick to capitalize on the situation, wearing badges that read “Potter Stinks” with smug grins plastered on their faces. The badges were a reminder of the petty cruelties that could emerge even in the magical world.
Lucille watched from the sidelines, her own past experiences with bullying making the scene painfully familiar. Seeing Harry’s stoic reaction reminded her of her own struggles. She approached him quietly, hoping to offer some comfort.
“If you want,” Lucille suggested, “I can help you hex those badges. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.”
Harry shook his head, his expression resolute. “No need. I don’t let that sort of thing bother me. It’s not worth it.”
Lucille shrugged, not entirely understanding his calmness but respecting his decision.
Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair, telling Lucille about his fight with Ron, him believing that he had put his name in the Goblet of Fire just to show off.
Lucille nodded, trying to process his words. “That sounds tough. Do you think Ron has a point, though? Maybe he feels left out or overshadowed by all this.”
Harry shook his head. “I understand that he’s upset, but it’s not like I did it on purpose. I didn’t even want to be in the tournament.”
Lucille looked thoughtful. “Ron’s reaction seems pretty harsh. I think it’s wrong of him to blame you like that. But you know, maybe there’s more to it.”
Just then, Ron Weasley entered the common room, his face a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. Seeing Harry and Lucille together, he hesitated before approaching.
“Hey, Lucille,” Ron said, clearly uncomfortable. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Lucille nodded, and Harry stood up, giving them a bit of space. Ron took a seat beside Lucille and began to explain his side of the story.
“I didn’t mean to go off on Harry,” Ron said, his voice low. “I just… I felt left out, you know? It’s like everyone’s making a big deal about Harry, and I’m just stuck here feeling useless.”
Lucille listened attentively, her empathy growing. “I understand feeling left out. But Harry didn’t ask for this attention, and it’s not his fault. Maybe, instead of fighting, you could just give him some space and try to work things out later.”
Ron’s face softened a little. “You think so? I didn’t know how to handle it. It just came out all wrong.”
Lucille nodded. “You might find that things look different after a bit of distance.”
Ron seemed to take her advice to heart. “Thanks, Lucille. I guess I needed to hear that.”
As the evening wore on, Lucille found herself reflecting on the complex dynamics between Harry and Ron. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that both boys were struggling with their own issues, and it was affecting everyone around them, including her.
The next morning, Lucille decided to take a step back from both Harry and Ron. She felt caught in the middle of their conflict, and her own recent experiences of rejection had left her wary of getting involved in their personal battles. The decision wasn’t made out of malice but rather out of a need for peace and self-preservation.
She avoided Harry in the common room and didn’t seek out Ron for conversations. Instead, she spent time alone, focusing on her studies and enjoying the solitude of her new dorm. It was easier to be alone, away from the tumult of conflicting emotions and hurt feelings.
She turned her attention back to Fred and George, who were deep in conversation with Lee Jordan and Angelina Johnson, their usual energy undiminished.
“So,” Lucille began, trying to regain a sense of camaraderie, “I’ve got an idea for a prank. Something to get back at Michael Corner and the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, and maybe those girls who’ve been giving me a hard time.”
Fred and George exchanged glances, their expressions growing serious. “Lucy, we’ve talked about this,” Fred said gently. “Our pranks are meant to be funny, not harmful.”
George nodded in agreement. “We’re here to entertain, not to hurt anyone. You’re taking it too far.”
Lucille felt a sharp pang of disappointment. “I’ve done everything you asked. Now you’re saying I’m crossing the line?”
Fred’s face softened slightly. “It’s not about being on anyone’s side. We just don’t want to cross that line. You should take a break from pranking for a while.”
The sting of their words was like a physical blow. Lucille’s anger flared. “So, what? I’m just your prank partner, not a friend?”
George’s eyes were sympathetic but firm. “We didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. We just don’t want to get involved in anything that might cause real harm.”
The realization hit Lucille hard. They weren’t treating her as a friend; she was just another participant in their schemes. She watched in stunned silence as Fred and George joined Lee Jordan and Angelina, their laughter and excitement in stark contrast to her hurt.
Feeling abandoned and rejected, Lucille withdrew. She sat alone in a corner of the common room, her mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. As she observed Fred and George’s easy camaraderie with Lee and Angelina, Lucille realized that her place among them was precarious at best.