Dearest Lily,

I'm sure you are having a lovely time at school.

You will be pleased to know that I have not one, not two, but three charming and eligible boys who I have set up dates for you with upon your return in December.


Your adoring mother.

I keep this note by my bed not because I'm appreciative of my mother's ridiculous thoughts, but because it is the last thing that poor Princess Humphrey ever delivered. It shall stay with me always as a testament to his bravery.

On the other hand, I am pleased to inform you that Goncalvo the war Elf is doing simply splendid. I have already managed to make him poop on Clarissa and Guinevere's make up. Mwahahaha, they shall never coat me in that hideous junk ever, ever again.

But today I will remain focused, or I am on a mission of the utmost importance.


"Focus, Lily. Please! We must perfect our plan!" Guinevere and I sit on her bed—mine being too messy to find somewhere to sit—and our looking over the piece of parchment that holds the plans for our Extreme and Extravagant Prank. If you don't know who we're pranking than I would suggest getting your head checked.

"Guinevere, I believe our plan is perfected, we must move, now! Before the end of the Hour of the Mouse!"

"The hour of the mouse?" she asks me, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, it is two in the morning, that is the hour of the mouse." She doesn't even bother to respond but instead gathers the supplies and walks behind me as we sneak through our dorm. The rest of my so called friends are asleep, not even aware of the terror that shall be released come morning. We sneak down to the Great Hall and walk directly to the middle of the Gryffindor table, right to the spot where the Gorilla People always sit.

It is there that we unleash our wrath upon the unsuspecting audience. We prepare to follow through with our plan, the epitome of creativity, the peak of evil genius, the absolute definition of revenge.

We place thumb tacks on their seats.

Cackling as we work, we finish the job, giving each other well deserved high fives as we run from the Great Hall, our mission complete.

"EVANS!" I'm walking towards the Great Hall, rather earlier than usual so as not to miss the show, when I am accosted by McGonagall, or, as I personally like to call here, Captain Hook.

Why? You might ask. Because she reminds me of Captain Hook from peter Pan, can't you just imagine her forcing innocent children such as me to walk the plank?

I stop walking and longingly watch Guinevere and Valerie continue their trek to the Great Hall. Jealousy fills my heart as never before. I attempt to smooth my face into a responsible position.

"Yes, professor?" I ask her innocently.

"Miss Evans, I am most displeased with you. Your performance in my class not only last year but the little time we've had together this year has been abysmal. You will join me tonight, and every other night I see fit, until your work is up to par.

"Yes, Captain Hook," I answer. And then stop, stunned. Did I really just call her that? It had slipped out, I hadn't meant it! What evil punishment would I receive for this mistake? As I desperately stood shaking I could see the Marauders walking past me into the Great Hall, I was going to miss it!

"What did you call me?" she hissed at me, turning a shade of blue that I didn't even think was possible for a human. I didn't answer, not that she expected me to. No, she just started ranting at me about my complete and utter disrespect and her shame that I was in her house. I listened for the first thirty seconds and then sunk into myself, reflecting the unfairness of not being able to see the Marauders reaction at our genius prank.

Eventually, with one last huff in my direction, she stalked off. With a sigh I went into the dining hall, already resigned to the fact that I would not be able to see my great prank unfold. As soon as I entered I looked straight at the Marauders. Were they gasping in pain? Talking about my genius? Planning my revenge?


They were laughing their heads off and examining the thumb tacks I had set on their chairs. I sprinted over to Guinevere.

"What happened? What spoiled our amazing plan?"

"Well, they sat on them, but their arses are so hard no one felt anything except for Pettigrew. And then they just kinda looked at me and started laughing." I groaned. The marauders were already walking towards me. Pestilent Prick Potter held up the thumbtack.

"Nice. Real, real nice," the Remus creature said, grinning.

"Your cleverness and creativity knows no boundaries!" Sirius exclaimed. And I do believe he was being sarcastic.

"How dare you insult me!" I screeched at them. "It was an amazing plan! You couldn't have done any—"

"So," Sirius interrupted, throwing an arm around my shoulder. "Have you written any more stories about Vidanric and Lovette? I would simply love to read them!" he sniggered, looking around at everyone as if to invite them too to enjoy his little joke.

Right when I was about to truly blow about at that Stupid Saggy Seahorse, known to the common public as Sirius. Pestilent Potter intervened.

"I thought it was a really well written story. You should be a writer Lily." Stupid Saggy Seahorse and I shared the same look of astonishment as we gaped at him.

"Are you making fun of me?" I demanded, hands on hips and trying my best to give him me Angry Warlord look.

"No! Of course not. I really liked it. Have you written more?" His expression looked innocent enough. But this was pestilent Potter, the king of pricks and Gorilla People: nothing was certain with him.

"Yes, I have written lots more. But I cannot get to it even if I believed your intentions were the slightest bit honorable. You probably just mean to spread them around the school and make fun of me like Stupid Saggy Seahorse did." Sirius looked slightly taken aback as he realized who I was talking about but potter didn't miss a beat.

"I would never do that. And Sirius was going to apologize about that, weren't you Sirius?" The seahorse cleared his throat.

"Uh, right. My deepest and most sincere of apologies, Madame." He swept me a long, low bow. Potter turned back to me.

"But what do you mean you can't get to them?" I looked at him. Could I trust him?

"Do you remember The Terrifying Incident of Vertical Fear and Slimy Snogs?" I asked him in my most dangerous, conspiring voice.

"Uh. You mean when you fell from the roof?" I nodded solemnly.

"Well, The Terrifying Incident of Vertical Fear and Slimy Snogs has given me the most terrible fear of heights, and now I am unable to retrieve my other amazingly well written romances from the roof." He gaped at me.

"WHAT?" I was startled, and jumped a little backwards.

"Yes, I know, it's a tragedy." I buried my face in my hands.

"But—But that means," he sputtered out. "That means you can't play quidditch!"

"Yes, I suppose it does," I answered grimly.

"But I'm quidditch captain, and we'll lose without you. I can't have us lose when I'm captain!" But my fear of heights was suddenly not important. For he had said the very thing that I feared above everything else.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN YOU'RE QUIDDITCH CAPTAIN?!" he suddenly looked scared. So did the seahorse and the Remus creature, who grabbed Pettigrew and started sprinting for an exit, obviously fearing my wrath. Potter didn't seem to know what to say.

"I'm, sorry?" I swelled angrily.

"WELL YOU HAD DAMN WELL BETTER BE, POTTER! FOR WE BOTH KNOW I'M THE BETTER PLAYER!" He mouthed wordlessly at me. It was then that I noticed that the entire student population of the hall was staring at me. That seems to be happening more and more lately. It was then that Guinevere grabbed me and started dragging me from the hall, an embarrassed looking Clarissa helping her. I continued to scream menacingly at him as they carted me away, even giving him the Scary Old Crone look I had given him when he had witnessed Princess Humphrey's funeral.

But what was Potter doing?


We'll see whose laughing after I'm done with him.