The Twin and Harry Potter

The Rogue Bludger

Vanessa settled at a table in the library. Draco was off at Quidditch practice, last one before the big first match: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. Not wanting to add any nerves by watching, she opted to finish some homework in the library. Her Transfiguration essay is complete. Charms nearly finished. And she's only just started on Defense Against the Dark Arts. 

She's rather disappointed thus far with that class. The core material of the class sounds so fascinating, could possibly be a runner for favorite subject, but the teachers have been awful. First year had been taught by a studdering scaredy cat. He couldn't get through a full lesson without shaking like a leaf. And unfortunately, this year they're stuck with an egocentric crackpot. Vanessa has a hard time believing a single one of the stories are true. 

Every single DADA class just seems to be a lesson all about Gilderoy Lockhart. After, what has been heard to be, a very horrid first class for the Gryffindors, all Lockhart has done since is read from and occasionally reenact scenes from his books. Each Slytherin is taking turns being at the front of the class playing the part as someone from his story. Vanessa had the unlucky pleasure of being one of the first. She was a hag he had dealt with while on holiday. This gave Pansy some ammo for later. Vanessa got her bit of revenge when Pansy was chosen to play a troll. Draco, who absolutely refused at first, was chosen to play a werewolf. He looked uncomfortable the entire time as he stood next to Lockhart. Vanessa almost felt bad enough to take his place. Almost.  

Now she is working on the homework assigned for that days lesson. A poem about his victory in Wanderings with Werewolves against the Wagga Wagga Werewolf. Well working on is a strong word for "haven't even started yet." She doesn't even know the first thing about writing poems. She's sure if she just fills the "poem" with compliments she may win best in class. Not that she even cares for signed copies of his books. Maybe she could fetch some Galleons with them when the school year is done. It could never hurt to have a bit extra. It's not like she intends to keep these books when the year is done. She is all for rereading a book, but these ones were hard to stomach the first time around. 

"Moste Potente Potions?" Vanessa hears Madam Pince question suspiciously. A restricted book? She glances over and nearly rolls her eyes when she sees Harry, Ron, and Hermione standing before Madam Pince. Madam Pince is looking at a note she has taken from Hermione. 

Vanessa watches them. What do they need a restricted book for? She scans her eyes over Harry, his stance, the way his eyes are shifting, his hands fidgeting at the sleeve of his robes, they all show signs he's up to something he shouldn't be. Dammit. What is he up to? 

As quickly and quietly as she can Vanessa packs her scrolls and books. Madam Pince shuffles off after inspecting the note. She returns several minutes later with a large book. Hermione takes it and puts it in her bag before the three of them turn to leave. Hermione walks a bit stiffly, as if she is attempting to walk normally but seemed to forgot how to do so. Strange, very strange. 

Once they've passed, Vanessa stands and starts to follow from a distance. She's increasingly confused as they head toward the area Mrs. Norris had been found. She frowns deeply when they go into the out of order girls bathroom there. 

Vanessa recognizes the bathroom of course. Just about every girl avoids it if they can. It's the bathroom that ghost girl haunts, the one who cries constantly. Moaning Myrtle, that's her name. Vanessa has made the mistake only once going in there, never again. Why are they going in there? 

She creeps forward, scanning the hall before she presses her ear to the door. She can hear Myrtle's sobs echoing in the bathroom, but she can barely make out the hushed voices of those within behind such a heavy door. Taking a risk, she pushes the door open slightly. Thankfully not a single creak. The echoes of the cries seem to only be louder with the door cracked. Though in a moment where there is a lull in the cries she catches a snippet.