the hat | 𝐬.𝐛

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟱 || To Lose a Hat

The students laughed. Emery ignored them. "Well, you see, Minnie," she said innocently. "You told me to sit, so I sat. You didn't specify where," she continued, looking at Professor McGonagall with her piercing blue eyes.

"Minnie?" echoed one of the boys from the back. "Who's Minnie?"

Emery noticed him to be James Potter, the chaser of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. 

She pointed at McGonagall. "She's Minnie," Emery said accusingly.

The Marauders let out a bark of laughter. "Minnie?" echoed the boy sitting near James. "I like it."

The boy with the sandy colored hair rolled his eyes, while the other one burst into a fit of giggles.

Professor McGonagall let out an annoyed sigh. "Well, Black," she said. "You are not calling me that. And neither are any of you." She heaved another sigh. "Unless you want detention."

The boy, Black, let out a chuckle. "Sorry, Minnie. But the name's stuck now." Then he lifted his gigantic feet on the table and leaned back.

"MISS FOWL!" screeched the Professor. 

Emery smirked innocently.

Throughout the rest of the lesson, Emery would shout out deliberately wrong answers from the floor, and raise her hand pointlessly.

When she was picked, she'd sing Christmas carols at the top of her voice, that by the end of the lesson, everyone was sick of her interruptions. On leaving the classroom, she jumped up from the floor, and hugged Professor McGonagall tightly, and patted the top of her head.

Professor McGonagall had never looked so livid before. Her face was red, and she looked ready to explode any moment.

Emery then patted her on the head once more, and bounded out of the classroom, leaving everyone around her in fits of laughter.

Next she had Defence Against the Dark Arts, while Cecilia had Divination. Emery made retching noises whenever Divination was mentioned. 

Nevertheless, she trotted over to the Defence Against the Dark Arts, which was a shared class with the Gryffindors.

She entered the door of the Defence classroom loudly and five minutes late.

"GOD REST YE MERRY HIPPOGRIFFS," she sang as she entered. This year, they had a new Professor. Emery cast him a good look last night at the feast.

He was an old man, in his late seventies, and he had a curved hunchback and a thin stick-like figure. He wore a pair of oval glasses on his long, crooked nose, and he had a long, thin beard that reached just past his collar.

Emery thought he looked like Dumbledore gone wrong.

He timidly looked up at her arrival. He gave her a jovial smile and welcomed her into the class. "Have a seat, Miss...." He broke off, asking her name.

She shifted her hat sideways, and gave a mock-curtsy. "Fowl. Emery Fowl," she said. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Old and Wise Man Who looks like Dumbledore Gone Wrong," she said. 

The Professor's glasses fell off his nose. He trembled, not knowing how to respond as the class had burst out laughing at Emery's act.

"Take a seat," he finally said softly, smiling pitifully. Emery sat near a red haired girl.

"Hi," said the girl brightly. "I'm Lily. Lily Evans."

"Potter's girl?" whispered Emery.