Commentarius

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Thursday, September 18th, 7th Year Girls' Dormitory
Observant Lily: Day 3
Total Observations: 19
Mission De-Pruding Proved a Success

It's a clear white flag that there's something seriously wrong with a girl when she's up at the crack of dawn.

Yes, that's correct. I, Lily Evans--the girl who barely wakes up before ten on Christmas--was awake at the crack of dawn this morning. I even saw the sunrise--the sunrise! I have never in my entire life seen the sunrise! That happens, like, early. Like really really early. I don't do early. I never have and I thought I never would, but apparently now I do. This change in my internal clock probably has something to do with the fact that I've suddenly acquired a very traumatic life. And it's a worldwide known fact that people with traumatic lives always seem to have severe cases of chronic insomnia. Or something like that, anyway.

And you know what? I rather understand now why people get up at this insane hour. Perhaps they're not mad. Maybe they just want to see the sunrise. Because it's really pretty. In fact, despite the disaster that has become my life, I actually forgot about my haters' society and my Transfiguration troubles for just a moment. I was actually at peace for the twenty minutes I sat and watched the sun come up over the forest. Then of course, I turned around and there was Emma, asleep in her bed, which once again reminded me of the hell that has become my life.

Which was bloody unfair if you ask me. I think I deserve at least thirty minutes of peace.

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Still Early, 7th Year Girls' Dormitory
Observant Lily: Day 3
Total Observations: 20
Mission De-Pruding is Toned Down

After much consideration on my part, and some useful input from our loo's mirror, I have finally decided to tone Mission De-Pruding down a notch. It's not as if I didn't absolutely love it and appreciate its results or anything, it's just . . . I don't know. Maybe it was just too much too fast? I mean, over the course of one Mission De-Pruding Day, I've:

A) Managed to get my best mate cross with me (though whether this was because of the De-Pruding, or because of something else, I'm not positive)
B) Swore more than I ever have in my entire life combined, and
C) Made a complete fool of myself in front of James Potter, again.

Therefore, while MD-P did succeed in De-Prudingizing me in the eyes of my fellow students and also got me the attention of my long-term obsession, Amos, it seems to have caused a bit of trouble as well.

I'm not completely abandoning it, of course. I simply lowered my skirt down an inch and put my robes on. Plus, my hair is back to its normal, messy, indecisive self, so I just braided it. But I still left on the bit of make-up and I totally left the button in my shirt undone. So all is not completely lost, I suppose. I just won't be swearing so much. Or looking so much like a slag. However, not like a prude, either.

I hope that this slight change in my slagability will cause Emma to forget about whatever it is that she's angered with me about. Maybe she'll just be so happy that I'm not such an Elisabeth Saunders clone that she'll completely disregard whatever it is I did and go back to normal. Hopefully.

Yeah, right.

Like that will ever happen.

Long live bad karma!

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Later, Charms
Observant Lily: Day 3
Total Observations: 22
Mission De-Pruding Toned Down Continues

Observation #21) Even though I am currently far less slaggish than yesterday, and even though I am being totally and completely normal and nice, Emma is still angry with me.

Yes, it's true. Emma still despises me. At least, that's how she's acting, anyway. She hasn't spoken a word to me all morning. All she did was glare at me in a very Marcus-Hillpitt-Before-I-Apologized sort of way. She had no problem chatting it up with Grace, however, and even less of a problem talking to (and snogging, as I so nauseatingly had to witness) Mac, who by the way, glared at me as well. But this was hardly surprising considering I'm almost positive that Mr. Fulton has absolutely despised me from the moment he met me--which really isn't even fair at all when you think about it. I mean, he doesn't even have a legitimate reason to. I wasn't even slaggish when we first met--so he didn't really bother me.

But you know what was bothering me? Emma's attitude. It was bothering me a lot. I mean, before these past few weeks, I've never seen this side of Emmaline Vance before. She's always been that sweet little pacifist. Honestly, I just don't know what has gotten into her. Have I really done something that dreadful? Or is it something else? Or perhaps, someone else? I wouldn't doubt it if it was Mac who got her all like this. I don't trust the boy, and frankly, there is something definitely off about him. My I'm-going-to-be-a-brilliant-Auror instincts have begun to kick in where Mr. Fulton is concerned. Perhaps I will jump him the next time I see him in the corridor. Hm. Something to think about.

And now, sitting here in Charms two seats away from her, I can still feel her animosity radiating towards me. This is not a good sign. I mean, when any person is radiating anything it's kind of sick and disturbing, but when they're radiating animosity...well, you can only imagine.

Observation #22) My Transfiguration textbook has somehow vanished.

To make my morning even worse (didn't think it could get any worse, eh? I mean, when someone's best mate is cross with them, you would just assume that this said someone's bad karma would give them a break, but you are obviously unaware of the unfairness said someone's bad karma exerts on said someone's life), I have discovered that I am no longer in possession of my Transfiguration textbook. This in itself is bad, but even more so when I realised that the last time I had my textbook--and the only possible time it could have got lost--was when I was being "tutored" by James Potter. Moreover, when I went back to the library to search it down, not only was my textbook not there, but Madame Pince insisted that she had tided up the library last night and that no Transfiguration textbooks had been left there.

Which only leaves one possibility.

James Potter is now in possession of my Transfiguration textbook.

Oh, yes. Quite a good morning I've been having.

And it's not really as if I can just go and demand it back from the boy because generally, when you accuse a person of being apart of a society whose main purpose is to discuss you, your shortcomings, and why and how everyone can be cross with you, you really can't just go and talk to them the next morning. It just isn't done. This is because they are now positive that you are an irritable, self-centered twit who thinks the whole world and everyone in it revolves around them. This is an embarrassing conclusion for even your worst enemy to think of you. This is why I simply cannot just go and ask him for it. I would die of embarrassment. And as bad as my life currently is, I do not want to die. At least not yet.

So now I'm sitting in Charms, feeling the animosity radiation from Emma, and occasionally looking towards James Potter, who is sitting a few rows in front of me, wondering if he will possibly just turn around and carelessly toss me my textbook, sparing me the mountains of embarrassment I will have to face if I was forced to confront him about it. This is a nice dream, of course, but something I know is just not going to be happening. Considering this, I'm just trying to think of any possible way to gain a Transfiguration textbook before the bell rings and I have to go off to class, where today is a reviewing day, and I don't have a textbook to try to cheat out of when McGonagall asks me a question.

I have Transfiguration in five minutes.

I have no idea how to get my textbook back.

Perhaps I should just reconsider the whole 'dying' thing.

Hm.

Perhaps.

___________________

Still Later, Lunch in the Great Hall
Observant Lily: Day 3
Total Observations: 22
Blah blah blah to Mission De-Pruding

I don't know why I haven't just accepted it yet. Honestly. I mean, I've only had seventeen years of continuously horrible karma, why can't I just accept it and go live in a box somewhere? Or maybe a closet? Or even better, a casket buried ten feet under the ground? It would make life so much easier and simpler for everyone if I would.

No, it's not what you're thinking. I didn't completely bug out in Transfiguration, therefore resulting in McGonagall kicking me out of her class, making it so that I can never be an Auror, which means I wouldn't have a job, which means I wouldn't have a house, a husband, children or much of a life, which means I might as well buy a hundred cats and a smelly old house because I would be needing them in the near future.

Nope. None of that.

Even being a Cat Lady is better than this.

It was still five minutes before Transfiguration and there I still was, textbookless. I was not in the best of positions to say the least.

"Grace," I whispered, just as the ending bell for Charms rang. "I don't have my Transfiguration textbook."

Gathering her stuff together, it took a few moments for Grace to realise that this was a problem. She gave me a confused look. "Well then go get it," she told me, motioning towards the staircases as we walked out of the classroom. She obviously assumed that I had left it in the dormitory. I shook my head, ignoring the disapproving glances (glares) I was getting from Emma, who was walking behind us with Mac, and who obviously understood that this wasn't something to be solved with a simple trip up to Gryffindor Tower.

"I can't," I told her helplessly, trying to keep my voice down so that Emma couldn't hear. "It's not in the dormitory. I can't go get it."

Grace still didn't seem to understand this. She's such a clot sometimes.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "Did you lose it?"

I hesitated for a second before answering. Lose it? No, not quite. I shook my head and sighed, answering in a very soft voice, "No, I didn't lose it. I...I'm pretty sure Potter has it."

Grace's eyebrows shot up at my confession, and taking a quick glance behind me, I was surprised to see Emma sporting a similar look. "James?" Grace asked. "Why would he have it?"

"I left it in the library yesterday and I think he took it."

Grace just kept on looking at me as if she failed to see the problem in this. Which of course she wouldn't. She, after all, was not aware of my stupidity of the night before.

"All right," she answered slowly, obviously still waiting for the dilemma to arise. When I didn't elaborate, she gave me an unsure look. "Why don't you just go ask him for it?"

I frantically shook my head at this. "I can't do that!" I cried. "We...well, that is...I... I just can't, all right? It's just not that simple."

To my annoyance, Grace suddenly looked as if the situation had gotten extremely amusing.

"And why is that?" she asked, a smile on her face.

I sighed again, sensing that she evidently was not going to give up on this easily. But just how does one explain to her mate that she accused James Potter--as well as her, and various other people--of belonging to a Lily-centered society? What words could convey the complete selfishness and stupidity of that? I just don't think there are any.

"I just can't," I told her stubbornly, hoping desperately that she would leave it at that. I didn't know what I was going to do if she continued to question me further.

To my vast relief, however, Grace reluctantly seemed to accept this answer--or accept the fact that I wasn't going to tell her anything else, anyway. Her annoyingly coy smile still remained though, and the way she grinned was unnerving me almost as much as her dropping of the subject. "All right, then," she said. "Do you want me to ask him for it?"

She looked very happy to do so for some reason, and I was about to let her, until I realised that this seemingly plausible solution wouldn't do either. I mean, yes, it may have seemed like the perfect solution, but when you think about it, what's really more pathetic, asking the bloke for my textbook back, or having my mate ask for it back? He'd totally know that I'd chickened out. He'd think, "How stupid can this girl be, that she can't even ask me for her own bloody textbook back?" And yes, while I may be stupid, I rather enjoy my dignity and would like to keep it intact for as long as possible. Having Grace confront Potter in my place wasn't going to accomplish that goal.

"So let me get this straight," Grace said as we reach the Transfiguration classroom (Emma had at some point disappeared). "You're not going to ask for it, and I can't ask for it, and Emma and I don't sit anywhere near you so it's not like we can chuck you ours...what exactly are you planning on doing, Lil? Using your telekinesis to float your textbook out of his rucksack?"

Telekinesis? Float it out of his rucksack? Well, I may not have telekinesis, but I do have a wand...

Grace sent me a pointed look. "You are not floating your textbook out of his bag, Lily!"

Fine. Well there goes that idea.

"Fine," I told her aloud, taking a fleeting glance around the slowly filling classroom. "I'll just have to...I don't know, wing it or something."

Oh, yes. Wing it or something. Quite the brilliant plan on my part. I expect my Nobel Prize to be arriving any day now.

Grace shrugged at this decision. "All right, Lil. But are you sure you couldn't just ask James for the book back? He's not going to bite." She paused, her smile growing even wider. "I think."

I threw her a look that clearing stated my annoyance with her before turning away and with a thumping heart and heavy feet, walked slowly towards my seat. To say that I was nervous would be a rather grave understatement. Remember the whole dying thing? Yeah, totally reconsidering it.

The classroom was nearly filled by the time I finally slugged my way into my seat. As usual, Black and Potter were not in their places behind me, so even if I had decided to toss my dignity out the window and beg for my textbook back, I couldn't, because Potter wasn't there.

How bloody convenient.

I looked miserably around the classroom, watching as all the other seventh-years filed into their seats. They would be fine. They wouldn't have to worry about having to think of the answer to McGonagall's dastardly questions off the top of their heads because they had their textbooks to cheat out of. Most of them didn't even need it! I was the only one failing--the only one who was truly in need. How is it that no one considered this? For that second, I hated every single one of them. I hated every single one of those stupid kids who were placing their textbooks on their desks, preparing for their class of reviewing.

I was preparing for my funeral.

"Quiet, everyone! I expect you to all be getting to your seats--"

Flowers, a casket, nice solemn music... you know, the whole nine yards.

"Settle down--ladies! I believe I said to take your seats!"

I was going to have a very nice funeral.

"Hullo there, Evans."

At the sound of the greeting, I whipped around in my chair, my heart dropping slightly at the sight of the Marauder taking his seat behind mine. This, however, was not the Marauder I needed. Where the bloody hell was Potter?

"Where's Potter?"

Sirius's eyebrows fell together at my question, and then, as if suddenly noticing that Potter wasn't dutifully chained to his side as he usually was, Sirius started looking around the classroom.

"Dunno," he answered, his voice hardly concerned.

I sighed. Figured. Stupid bad karma.

"Well, he didn't happen to give you anything to give to me, did he?" I asked, my voice perhaps a bit on the desperate side, but I didn't really care. I was desperate.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "I don't deliver snogs, Evans."

I groaned, turning back towards the front of the classroom, having no idea what Sirius had just been talking about, but knowing enough to understand that he didn't have my textbook. Damn it.

"If everyone could kindly get to their seats, Mr. Lopus," McGonagall began again, eyeing Greg Lopus, who was currently snogging long-term girlfriend, Jilly Prewett, "we could begin our class."

More shuffling. More textbooks. I paled, sitting stiffly in my chair. Never before had a class made me consider suicide more than this stupid course.

"All right," McGonagall began again, looking around the classroom to see that everyone was in his or her proper places. If she noticed Potter's absence, she didn't say anything. "As you may remember, I mentioned yesterday that today would be our reviewing day."

She scanned her eyes through the classroom once more, her eyes resting shortly upon me, before moving on. A silent warning. A dare. Succeed or fail. The stakes were high. Do this, or be a Cat Lady.

And I didn't have my bloody textbook to cheat out of.

"It's quite a simple procedure," she continued, her voice distinct in the quiet room. "One by one I will call upon each of you, ask you the incantation of a simple task, and then ask you to perform that task. Understood?"

Murmurs of consent filled the room. I didn't say anything. I don't think I could if I had wanted to. I was petrified.

McGonagall glanced down at her class roster, her quill scanning up and down the page. I prayed that she wouldn't call on me first. It was all I needed to make the day declared a complete and utter failure.

"Mr. McDonough, you first."

I sighed silently in relief.

Mac stood up, sneaking a look at his textbook as he rose. Not feeling so dreadfully brilliant anymore, now are you, Mr. Fulton?

"Please tell me the incantation that can turn this toad into a lamp and then do so."

Mac hesitated for only the slightest of seconds before a small smile spread across her face. He raised his wand and pointed it towards the toad McGonagall had conjured onto his desk. "Abeo lucerna!"

And just like that, gone was the toad and there was the lamp.

It made me feel sick inside.

McGonagall nodded, satisfied, and then moved onto her next victim.

For the next ten minutes or so, I watched as McGonagall went through her list, testing each person with a different task, none of which the incantations I knew. Not once did anyone falter. Well, at least, not enough to matter, anyway. My stomach churned every time someone completed their task, not only because I knew I would never be able to do what they had just done, but because there was always the possibility that I would be the next to go. And that was what was really terrifying.

"Evans," McGonagall said, after Jilly Prewett had just successfully turned her blue lizard into a clock. "Your turn."

The second she said my name, I felt sick to my stomach. I knew I'd never know the incantation, and even if by some miracle I did, I'd never be able to transfigure anything. This was the end of the road for me. I could finally stop with the tutoring sessions. I wouldn't need them anymore. I wouldn't be in the class.

"Evans," McGonagall repeated, "please transfigure--"

The classroom door swung open with a loud screech, and everyone turned to see who had entered. I let out a long breath, and looked helplessly to the back of the classroom. A familiar batch of messy black hair popped in from the corridor.

"Sorry," Potter said, closing the squeaky door behind him. A slight sweep of hope swept through me. Would McGonagall spend forever reprimanding Potter for coming late, as so many other professors did? Could he possibly save me? Could James Potter be the answer to my prayers?

"Sit down, Potter. You're next."

My heart dropped and I nearly cried. Why, oh why of all the days for her to not bother scolding him, did she have to pick today? Now? Why?

Potter nodded, walking quickly to his seat next to Sirius behind me. Seeing me standing there, he flashed me a grin as he sat down. I was too scared and mortified to glare at his smile. I'm so glad he was finding the ending of my life amusing. I'd be sure to return the favour when I was strangling him later.

"Evans," McGonagall said for the third time, causing my head to snap back to her, "tell me how you would transfigure this bird into a tea kettle, please."

I took a deep breath and nearly started crying again. I was never going to be able--

And then, out of nowhere, I remembered this:

"Household objects are easy. All you have to do is say 'suppellex' and then whatever you want to get. You know, like a pot would be 'suppellex pot" or a tea kettle would be 'suppellex kettle'--"

Potter's voice flew through my head. When had he taught me that? Last night? I couldn't remember. I hadn't really been paying attention last night. On the other hand, maybe I had been, subconsciously. Or perhaps it was just a figment of my imagination. Then again, perhaps it wasn't. What did I have to lose? It's not as if I actually knew the answer anyway. This was as good as anything I could make up.

"'Suppellex kettle'?" I answered, my voice filled with a whole lot more confidence than I was feeling inside. I waited for McGonagall's sigh and for her to say those dreaded words...

"Please precede, Evans."

My head flew up. I wasn't expecting those words.

My mind was in a tizzle. That had been correct? That whole thing hadn't just been a figment of my imagination? Potter had really actually taught me something? And would Merlin believe it, that one thing turned out to be my reviewing question? Where was my bad karma? Where was its influence on this?

"Miss Evans?"

McGonagall's voice lifted me out of my thoughts once more.

"Sorry," I said, raising my wand. I took a deep breath.

"To truly transfigure something, you have to get rid of all your doubts. If you're thinking about all the things that could go wrong, it reduces your abilities and you mess up--your wand flicks the wrong way or the words come out wrong. You have to believe you can do it before you actually can."

Right. Believe I can.

"Suppellex kettle!"

And viola. A kettle.

McGonagall nodded, and I looked up at her, stunned. I had done it! I had really really done it! Against all the odds and my horrible, ridiculously bad karma, I had actually done it!!! I wasn't going to fail out of Transfiguration (at least not today)! I wasn't going to have to be a Cat Lady (which is good, because I don't really like cats)! I could be an Auror and I could have a life! I could--

"You can sit down now, Evans. Potter, your turn."

Potter.

And that's when it hit me.

All of that, everything I had just done, was because of James Potter.

The same James Potter who I had thought would ruin my chances at ever passing this class. The same James Potter who schemed with his mates to act all nice to me and then hit me with a large slob of goop. The same James Potter who was currently cross with me for some unknown reason. The same James Potter who had stolen my textbook and had not given it back.

And it was because of this same James Potter that I am not going to have to be a Cat Lady. At least, not yet.

And for that, I owed him my life.

And that's when I discovered where my bad karma had been all this time; silently laughing at me as I gloated.

Because whether I care to acknowledge it or not, I owe my success of today to James Potter.

And that just can't be good.

___________________

Later, Library
Observant Lily: Day 3
Total Observations: 23
Why Do I Even Bother With This Still?

Observation #23) After much emotional turmoil over its disappearance, I am currently once again in possession of my Transfiguration textbook.

After my afternoon classes had finally ended and Grace had abandoned me for Quidditch practice (who knew where Emma was), I forced myself to return to the library once more to start my long procrastinated Potions Essay ("Explain and discuss the long and short-term effects of the Grentlis Potion"), which just happens to be due tomorrow.

Placing myself at the same table where Potter and I had sat the night before, I spread out all of my textbooks and notes before fully engrossing myself in what had to be one of the most pointless and ridiculous essays I've ever written. I mean, honestly, the Grentlis Potion? Psh. I might as well be writing about the long and short-term effects of the doggy-paddle!

Still, an assignment is an assignment, I suppose. Doggy-paddle ridiculousness or not.

And so I sat there for what seemed to be forever, writing absolute nonsense without a single interruption until suddenly--

BAM!

I jumped, my head snapping up, my quill point breaking on my parchment.

"You left it here yesterday."

I sighed, not surprised at all to see it was James Potter who had just unceremoniously just dropped my...oh goodness, my textbook!

I held back the childish impulse to giggle with glee at the normally plain and dull looking textbook. Never had I been so happy to see something Transfiguration-oriented. I slowly reached for the textbook and took it from the table, instantly clutching it possessively to my chest. Potter laughed, pulling out the chair across from me and sitting down. I glanced over at him skeptically. It was then that I realised that his previous comment had been neither taunting nor cold and he was not glaring at me. I narrowed my eyes on him. Something wasn't right.

"You did well in Transfiguration today," he told me in that same simple tone. I didn't respond, partially because I wasn't sure if my dignity was ready for a second conversation with him just yet, and partially because I was still skeptical of his non-angered guise.

A few moments passed in silence. He didn't seem to be affected by my glares or my refusal to speak. I wasn't exactly sure what he expected of me. I hadn't been planning to talk to him just yet. I still wasn't over my embarrassment of last night.

"It's good we went over that last night, eh?" he tried again, obviously still trying to engage me in conversation for some reason. "In all honesty, I didn't think you were even paying attention--"

"Neither did I," I interrupted, muttering without thinking. I fought the urge to clamp a hand over my mouth. So much for my dignity. Potter grinned charmingly and let out a small chuckle. My suspicions rose again.

"Well at least now I know it wasn't just me," he said, still smiling.

I narrowed my eyes even more. What exactly was he doing?

"I thought you were cross with me?" I asked, my voice holding a slightly bitter tone.

Potter's grin never faltered. "Well," he told me, lounging back in his chair, still not glaring and/or acting as if he was cross, which was really starting to bug me. "It turns out that I was kicked out of the society. My fellow members heard I let you in on the secret. It didn't go over well."

I felt myself turn red and cursed my stupid mouth for running on as it had last night. Society...what had I been thinking? "That's not funny," I muttered, wishing he would just leave me alone and forget about every stupid thing I'd said last night.

"I know," Potter said, a tone of remorse in his voice. "It's actually quite a pity. They served brilliant cookies at those meetings."

He smiled at me again. I knew he was trying to make me laugh, but I wasn't sure why. Hadn't it been just last night that he'd been glaring profusely at me? What was with the sudden normalcy? What is wrong with this boy? I'm beginning to think he's a bit of a schizophrenic.

"What are you playing at, Potter?" I asked with a sigh.

"Playing at?" he asked innocently. "I'm just trying to get you to stop looking at me like you want me dead. You know, maybe a bit of a smile and a little, 'Thank you for my textbook, James. I'm sorry I got you kicked out of the society. Just how brilliant were those cookies?'. Something small like that."

I blushed again, hating my tendency to do so. "I'd truly appreciate it if you just stopped talking about that, Potter. I was...not in my right state of mind, all right? And if you're going to keep mocking me--"

"I wasn't mocking you!" he said quickly. "Honestly, I was just trying to clear the air, Lily. I swear."

"Clear the air?" I asked disbelievingly. "What's with you? Last night you were angry, today you're not--do you fancy a quick visit to Madame Pomfrey, because I'm beginning to think you might need one!"

He knew I had him there, and so did I. Still, he didn't seem to be giving up so easily.

"Look," he tried again, trying not to act fazed by my last comment. "You said yourself that you don't like when people are cross with you, right?"

"So?"

"So now I'm not cross with you."

He looked at me as if this statement solved the problem, which it clearly didn't. Boys are very stupid that way, thinking that the world revolves around them. Honestly, he spoke as if I had been talking specifically about him when I said that!--well, er, maybe I was a bit, but only because he was trying to ruin my good mood! I didn't really care about him being cross with me. He was being entirely self-centered to think I had been. And even though I'm clearly not one to be talking--seeing as I previously accused this boy of belonging to a Lily-obsessed society--I have to say that this comment was a very stupid and ineffective one, and that Mr. Potter should learn not to be so boyishly selfish. If I one day discover a "10 Steps to Discovering What the World Really Revolves Around" class, I will be sure to sign him up along with me. It's the least I can do for humanity.

I threw him a look.

"So just because I told you I didn't want you to be cross with me, you're not?" I asked, adjusting my hands onto my hips. "And besides that, why were you even cross with me in the first place? It couldn't have been as important as everyone else seemed to think it was if you've suddenly forgot about it just like that!"

He sighed, messing up his hair with his hand, an action that has always driven me mad. "It doesn't even matter anymore," he told me. "Can't we just forget about that?"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, and I suppose you just think it's just as easy as that, don't you?"

"Well, isn't it?"

Crossing my arms over my chest, I let out a huff of breath. I suppose he had a point though. Was it just as easy as that? Hadn't I said that I hated for people to be cross with me? Isn't it so much easier to deal with this non-glaring James Potter, then the glaring James Potter? In all honesty, I wasn't so sure. I was beginning to see that nothing was 'just that easy' where James Potter was concerned.

"I don't think I'll ever understand you, Potter," I sighed, shaking my head.

"James."

"What?"

He grinned. "Didn't we already go over this?" he asked teasingly. "My name is James, not Potter. Well, I mean, it is Potter, but not in the way you seem to be determined to use it."

At the sound of this familiar statement, the warning bells began to go off in my head. Instantly my defenses were up, remembering a certain large green blob incident that had occurred recently after this same conversation.

"Oh, no," I said, beginning to reach for my things, intent on leaving even though I had yet to finish my essay. "I'm not falling for this gag again."

Potter cocked his eyebrow, looking at me as if he didn't know what I was talking about. Then slowly his eyebrow dropped as if he'd just caught on. His face was serious. "It's not a--"

"Find someone else to play your pranks on, Potter," I spat, not willing to even bother with his petty explanations, still gathering up my things, "because this girl is officially off the market!"

"Just--"

"Forget it!"

"But it's--"

"No!"

"Lily--"

"I told you to--"

"Will you just listen to me for a second?" he snapped suddenly, causing me to take a step back and finally shut my mouth. He looked vastly relieved to see I wasn't going to be fighting back.

"Thank you," he said, lifting a hand to mess with his hair again. Before I could think of what I was doing, my own hand instantly caught his, stopping the action mid-air.

"Don't do that," I told him quickly, ignoring his almost shocked expression. "It drives me mad."

Normally, this not-thought-through statement would've received a suggestive, conceited, Potterish comment like, "I drive you mad, eh?' or "Just how mad?", but I was quite startled to find that neither comment nor anything like it flew out of Potter's mouth. Instead, he gave me a strange, non-conceited look, and nodded his head.

"Er, sorry." His arm dropped slowly back down to his side. I pulled back my hand from his, crossing it back firmly over my chest, trying not to act fazed by his passing up of a line, and wondering at what point in our conversation we had ended up standing. I heard him sigh as he sat back down in his chair and I sat back in my own.

"It doesn't matter anymore," I said, just before Potter could begin to speak. "I'm over it, all right? I don't need your explanations."

"But if you'd just--"

"Drop it," I said quickly, my tone a bit harsher than intended. I attempted to soften it a bit as I added, "Please."

He looked like he was about to start arguing again, but at the last second, his shoulders drooped and he shook his head.

"Fine," he said, rubbing his eyes under his glasses. "You're right. It doesn't matter anymore."

I tried to hold back my surprise at his sudden surrender, but found myself eyeing him curiously anyway. He lifted his head slightly, looking at me through the top of his glasses as Dumbledore does, a small smile on his face. I know I still should have been skeptical--especially after everything he's done the past few weeks--but as I was sitting there, watching him smile at me like that, he didn't seem like the boyishly selfish, troublemaker James Potter I had just been arguing with. He seemed rather...I don't know. Normal? Helpless? Just not the James Potter I was used to, I suppose. Well, whatever it was, it caught me slightly off guard.

"What are you working on?"

His question startled me. I hadn't noticed that I'd been nodding off to Neverland.

"Oh! Er--Potions," I answered quietly, looking down at my half-completed essay, wondering why he was asking and even more importantly, why he was still sitting with me.

"The one due tomorrow?"

I nodded.

He smiled at me again, reminding me more of the James Potter I was used to.

"You haven't finished it yet?" he asked, his voice not accusing, but surprised.

I shrugged, causing him to shake his head in a mockingly disapproving manner.

"Well have you?" I asked, shooting him the same look.

"Of course not," he answered, once again leaning back on his chair, allowing casualty back to the conversation. "But I'm not you."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He continued to smile, shrugging his shoulders slightly before answering simply, "You know. You're always the responsible one. Always on top of things. I never thought you were a procrastinator like the rest of us."

I threw him a look. Me? Responsible? He had to be kidding!

"Oh, please," I said, shaking my head, "I'm not responsible in the least! I only do my work so early because I'd forget about it otherwise."

"Then why'd you put off this one? You obviously didn't forget about it."

"The only reason I put off this essay for so long," I started, giving him a pointed look, "is because it's one of the most dreadful topics ever known to man. I mean, honestly, the Grentlis Potion? I can say more about the long and short-term effects of a bad hair day than I can about the Grentlis Potion. I'm contemplating whether or not to just write Professor Abbott a 3-foot long letter about why we shouldn't be writing the bloody useless thing."

"But you're doing it anyway," Potter laughed, rolling his eyes at me. "Let's be serious, here, Lily. You'd never actually write a letter like that, nevertheless hand it in."

I stood up straighter, crossing my arms over my chest. "What makes you say that?"

Potter laughed again, shaking his head as if he was explaining something to a silly little girl. "Come on, Evans," he said. "You do realise that if you actually did do such a thing, Abbott would fail you in a second, right? You wouldn't have the courage to do it."

My mouth dropped open and I glared at him defensively. "I would too!"

He just continued laughing. "Really?" he asked, his tone suggesting that he was sure I was lying.

"I'm a Gryffindor, aren't I?" I shot back smugly.

"Gryffindor enough to get a failing mark?" he asked, his voice teasing.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am!"

I couldn't believe the lies that were coming out of my mouth. Who was I kidding? Gryffindor enough to not hand in an assignment, and then on top of that, insult the teacher's choice in topic? That was all fine and well for Potter and his mates, but for me? Yeah, right. Like that would be happening anytime soon.

And Potter knew this too.

He stuck his hand across the table. "Ten galleons says you won't do it."

I glanced down at his hand, and then looked back up at his teasing face. I knew that he was expecting me to laugh and decline the bet, and I also knew that that was exactly what I would end up doing. How utterly, predictably and ordinarily Lily.

With a determined jaunt of my chin, I placed my hand in his.

"You have yourself a deal, Mr. Potter. I would suggest that you start saving your money."

"And I suggest," he said, pumping my hand, "that you start saving your money."

And with that binding deal, Potter grabbed his things off the library floor and waltzed his way out the doors, laughing to himself all the while.

And there ended yet another one of my ridiculously odd encounters with James Potter.

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Still Later, 7th Year Girls' Dormitory
Observant Lily: Day 3
Total Observations: 23
Not Bothering

How do I get myself into these things? Honestly, I'm beginning to believe that perhaps it's not just my bad karma ruining my life--perhaps it's my downright bloody stupidity, as well.

Who in their right mind makes a bet with James Potter? Who does that? Mad people and Sirius, yes, naturally, but rational, supposed-to-be-responsible Head Girls?! I just don't know what's wrong with me sometimes. I mean, just yesterday I was cursing the boy's name, and now I'm making friendly wagers with him? Wagers that, by the way, I'm sure to lose? Perhaps he's not the only schizophrenic one around here.

I'm mad. I'm stark raving mad. That's the only plausible solution. Any second now, I'll be whisked off to St. Mungo's for testing. Then I won't have to worry about trivial things like Transfiguration and Emma and a life. You don't need any of those things when you're a nutcase at St. Mungo's. You just need your teeth, so that you can bite people. And fire, so that you can burn down houses like Bertha does in Jane Eyre.

Over the course of one day, I've progressed from being a Cat Lady to being Bertha Mason.

Congratulations, Lily Evans, you've officially gone mad. Welcome to the World of the Loony.

However, even though you many not need Emmas, Transfiguration, or lives in the World of the Looney, you do need money.

Therefore, if you'll excuse me, my mad-self has a letter to write!

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Friday, September 19th, Defense
Observant Lily: Day 4
Total Observations: 24

Dear Professor Abbott,

I am currently perfectly aware that the assignment you assigned us last week was to write a 3-foot long essay on the short and long-term effects of the Grentlis Potion, and I am currently perfectly aware that this is indeed not that. Regardless of that though, this will be what I'm handing in.

I didn't forget to do it and I don't have any false excuses to give you. In fact, if you'd look in my trunk right now, you would indeed find a half-completed essay on the long and short-term effects of the Grentlis Potion. It is not uncompleted for no good reason, however. It is in fact not completed, because I couldn't stand to write it any longer. Excuse me for being rather pert, Professor, but as I'm sure you will discover after reading a few of my fellow students' essays, there isn't very much to say about the long and/or short-term effects of the Grentlis Potion. This is because I can count both the long and short-term effects on one hand (short-term: headaches, stomach pains and intense nausea; Long-term: often weakened immune system and a permanent vaccine to the very few illnesses Grentlis remedies. See? One hand). This is a fact, and seeing that, I don't understand how you could possibly expect me to write a 3-foot long essay with such minimal information. Anyone who actually attempts to do such a thing is probably handing in a 3-foot long essay of repeated information, and that's not much of an essay in my opinion.

I realise that you are the professor, and I the student, and that I should accept any and all curriculum you choose to teach me without argument, but another thing I feel I should call to your attention is the plain uselessness of the Grentlis Potion. As I'm sure you're well aware of, this is my last year at Hogwarts, and after this year, I'll be out in the real world, dealing with the harsh reality that is life. I hate to break this to you, Professor, but I doubt a single person in our class is ever going to be using the Grentlis Potion in their entire lives. Except maybe those of us that are to become Healers, but even then, the chances of using it are slim. I don't think they even learn how to make the Grentlis Potion in Healer school. So in saying this, don't you think we should be learning potions that would be useful? Things that we actually might be able to use a couple of times before we die? I understand that the Grentlis Potion is a particularly hard potion to brew, and perhaps you are just trying to judge our Potions skills, but there are potions out there that are both useful and difficult. Perhaps students like me would find it easier to write 3-foot long essays on these useful potions.

Therefore, instead of handing in the true assignment, I'm handing in this--a sort of written explanation as to why I didn't complete my essay and why that should be acceptable to you. Whether or not you'll choose to actually take this letter seriously is a choice all your own, and I can't stop you from--nor will fight with you for--giving me a failing mark, but I truly couldn't tolerate writing such ridiculous nonsense any longer. I hope a Potions Master like yourself could understand my dilemma.

Thank you for your time and I'm sorry for any inconveniences this may cause you.

Fondly yours,
Lily Evans

Observation #24) The St. Mungo's scouts are obviously slacking, because there is one seriously mad Lily Evans on the loose.

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Later, Charms
Observant Lily: Day 4
Total Observations: 24
One Class until Potions

If there was ever any unwavering doubt in my mind about my suggested insanity, it's now fully put to shame in the worst possible way.

I'm mad. I'm as mad as they come.

Why exactly am I doing this again? For ten galleons? Is that where this crazy force that is propelling me to do this is coming from? My need for wealth? Am I really that avaricious? Somehow, I highly doubt that. Unless I'm avaricious and I just don't realise it. Do avaricious people realise that they're avaricious? I'm not quite sure they do. Marilyn Monroe sung about her love for diamonds and wealth, but that was in a movie, so perhaps that doesn't count. Do I even know anyone who's avaricious? Do other people realise when they're talking to an avaricious person? Does my extreme interest in avaricious people make me avaricious, or is it perhaps only a means of nervous rambling because I'm about to willingly fail Potions?

A little bit of both I think.

___________________

Bit Later, Still in Charms
Observant Lily: Day 4
Total Observations: 24
One Class until Potions

Perhaps I'm just trying to prove something. But what? And to whom? Professor Abbott? Potter? Why do I have to prove myself to two people who don't like me?

But Potter wasn't acting as if he didn't like me yesterday. He was doing the whole nice thing again, and it's actually got me a bit worried. Is it another prank of his? If it is, I'm slightly disappointed on his lack of creativity. I thought it better than him to do the same thing twice. He should at least have the decency to think up something new. It's really the least he can do.

Maybe this whole thing is just another prank. Maybe he thought it would be funny to see me fail, and even if I didn't complete the bet, he'd have something to hold over my head. But that couldn't have been his plan all along. It was just by chance that he discovered I was writing the essay yesterday, so that couldn't have been it. Perhaps he had something else in mind, and then this was one of those on-the-spot-pranks? Could that have been it?

Maybe I'm looking into this too much. Maybe he's just finally grown up. Maybe he's just trying to "clear the air" as he said.

No. I fell for that once, I can't fall for it again. James Potter will unfortunately always be James Potter.

But if James Potter will always be James Potter, and this is just another one of his pranks, why am I still willingly taking part in it?

___________________

Still Later, Still in Charms
Observant Lily: Day 4
Total Observations: 24
One Class until Potions

I think the clock has broken.

___________________

...Later, ...Charms
Observant Lily: Day 4
Total Observations: 24
One Class until Potions

It moved, so perhaps it's not broken. Maybe it's just not working correctly. Should I inform Flitwick?

___________________

So slowly...
Why even bother to keep writing this?

Do you reckon the clock is working properly? -LE

It looks fine. Why? -GR

I think perhaps it's broken.

It's not broken. Why does it matter? Got a date or something?

Yes, Grace, I cleverly scheduled a date during Charms class. Are you sure it's not broken?

YES. What's the matter with you? You're all antsy-looking.

That's because I'm a madwoman. Generally, madwomen are antsy-looking.

A madwoman? You're hardly mad, Lily.

That's where you're wrong, mate-o-mine. I fear that I'm quite off my rocker.

Well that's pleasant.

At least I'm not a Cat Lady.

A Cat Lady? What the bloody hell is a Cat Lady?

You know, the cranky old woman in the small smelly old house with thousands upon thousands of cats? Every town has one. Mine has two, actually. Mrs. Doberman and her protégée, Mrs. Figg.

Cat Ladies have protégées?

Of course! What do you think happens when a Cat Lady dies? You can't just claim yourself a Cat Lady and make up your own rules. You have to be...inducted!

Inducted into what?

Well, the Cat Lady Society, of course!

Never mind, I take back my comment. You are a madwoman.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

Grace?

Yes?

Are you positive it's working?

Bugger off, Lily.

___________________

Same ol', same ol'
I hate clocks.

Perhaps I should tell Grace about my scandalous assignment. She would be very proud, I'm sure. She'd of course believe it was her horrible influence because she's not aware of how avaricious I am, so she would never think that it's a bet.

Though she did think my de-pruding was a bet. Maybe she knew I was avaricious all along. That was terribly rude of her not to inform me. I mean, people who are avaricious should know that they are, that way they could prance around singing "Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend," and even if people stare and point, it'll be okay, because someone else will say to these pointers and starers, "Don't worry about her. She's avaricious and mad." Then the pointers and starers will all nod in understanding, and then continue to spread the word about why some girl is prancing around singing "Diamonds Are A Girl's Best Friend."

Wait a second...if Grace knew I was avaricious...then Emmaline...

___________________

Just Guess Where
Just Guess When

I promise I'll stop being avaricious if you'll just talk to me again. -LE

What are you talking about, Lily? -EV

That's why you're angry with me, right? Because unbeknownst to me, I've been avaricious for quite some time?

I don't know what you're talking about, Lily. Now please leave me alone. I'm TRYING to take decent notes, as you, as Head Girl, SHOULD be doing.

You mean that's not why you're cross with me?

Em?

Emmaline?

Oh, honestly, Emma!
___________________

Oh, no...

Bloody hell.

The bell just rang.

I think I am going to be sick.

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