▬▬▬▬▬ CHAPTER FOUR ▬▬▬▬▬

"IS IT TRUE THAT DIGGORY'S going to try and join the Triwizard Tournament?" Justin asked her in the middle of breakfast the next morning. His mouth was full of eggs benedict, but after living with sloppy boys in the Hermes cabin for years on end, she grew used to it enough to translate what he was saying. 

"That's what he's planning, yes," Esmerelda answered, slicing her skillet eggs and hash with terrifying precision. 

"I hope he wins," Ernie commented, stealing a glance back at the Slytherin table. "I heard some Slytherins talking about how Marcus Flint was planning the same thing too. Imagine the inflated egos that House would get if he gets picked." 

"Their egos are already inflated as is," Susan snorted. 

"I also heard that the Weasley twins are going to make some sort of aging potion so they'd be able to pass as seventeen," Hannah chimed in. "Do you think it would work?" 

"Nope," Esmerelda giggled. "I doubt it. An aging potion seems like an obvious solution so I'm pretty sure Dumbledore and the other ministry officials thought of something to block that. 

"I wish I was seventeen," Megan grumbled. "A thousand galleons... imagine that..." 

While her housemates were fantasizing about becoming rich, Esmerelda was too busy surveying her fourth year schedule to notice. She had double divination in the afternoon. While the lesson wasn't very useful and her teacher reminded her more of a hippie undergoing a never-ending high, the class was a good relaxation period for her. Plus, it was an easy A (or O) in this case since all she had to do was predict a bunch of tragic things happening to her. 

But that wasn't what caught her eye. It was what was written at the top of her schedule.

Her first class was potions, which was just a great way to start her day. 

(Not)

The last time she had seen Snape was back at the end of her third year where she pretty much semi-warned and semi-threatened him of his future demise. She wondered if he would take her warning to heart and actually try and be a decent person, though a good 99% of her doubted it. Snape was a nasty person and had been for years—it'd take a lot more than some warning/threat to make him drastically change. 

He probably didn't even believe her anyways. 

Her doubts were confirmed the second she entered the classroom and was immediately given a death stare from the aforementioned professor. 

She met his glare blankly before moving over to find a seat with some of her friends. 

"Wands away," Snape began curtly. "Today we will be brewing the Wit-Sharpening Potion. Pay attention because Merlin knows you all need it. Who here knows what a Wit-Sharpening Potion is?" 

One student raised her hand and he nodded sharply at her. 

"It lets the drinker think more clearly and it also acts as the antidote of the Confundus Charm." She answered nervously. 

"A substandard answer, but it will do," he sneered. He then waved his wand and the piece of chalk started to move on it's own. A list of ingredients and instructions were quickly written down on the chalkboard. "Copy all this in your notes and then get to work. I want you all done by the hour and you all must work—alone." 

Esmerelda put her reading glasses on and peered at the board. 

1. Use knife to cut off two pieces of ginger root and add to cauldron. Potion should turn from blue to green.

2. Add armadillo bile until potion turns blue.

3. Grind scarab beetles in pestle, sprinkle in cauldron until potion turns red.

4. Add more armadillo bile until potion turns yellow.

5. Chop four more pieces of ginger root and add to cauldron. Potion should turn green.

6. Stir clockwise until potion turns yellow.

She gathered all the ingredients she needed and went to work. It wasn't that hard, honestly. Brewing potions was pretty easy and fun for her—just not when she was doing it in Snape's class.

It took her under an hour to finish—thank gods, because she really didn't need Snape bitching at her for being 'too slow'—and after putting a sample of her potion in a phial, she fell in line in front of Snape's desk. 

She tried her hardest not to pay any attention to his left forearm as the line moved up. Now that she thought about it, him wanting to hide the Dark Mark certainly explained why he always wore long-sleeved robes even during the summer. She always thought he was just following his usual aesthetic or something like that. 

When it was finally her turn to get her potion checked, she struggled not to let Snape's death glare dampen her mood and forcefully kept up her winning smile. 

"Here," she said, handing him the phial. 

He barely even glanced at it before drawling out, "T, Black. Did you not read the instructions carefully? Tell me, what is the last step?" 

"...Stir clockwise until potion turns yellow." Which was exactly what she had done. 

"Does this shade of yellow look the same as my example?" He held out his own phial and placed it beside hers. She glanced down and felt her eye twitch. There was literally no difference. 

Whatever patience she had with him was dangerously close to snapping. 

"It's the exact same shade, sir," she said through gritted teeth, her smile tightening to the point where it felt like she was nearly breaking her face. 

He rose an oily brow. "You believe so? Then perhaps you're in need of a Wit-Sharpening potion yourself. Drink your own potion, Black, then we'll see if you're correct."

Smile darkening, she leaned closely and asked aloud, "Is your left arm alright, professor? I noticed that you keep itching it. Do you perhaps have a rash?" 

The smugly satisfied look on his face was washed off instantly. 

Her smile widened and her eyes flashed a deadly green. "Do not test me, professor," she whispered. "Remember my warning." 

Snape stared at her with barely contained rage before spitting out, "An A, then Black... now back to your seat." 

Giving him a bright beam, she took her phial and practically skipped back to her respective seat. 

"Whew," she sighed in relief and gave Hannah a grin. "That went surprisingly well. I was so certain he was gonna fail me." 

"He really has it out for you, doesn't he?" The blonde frowned disapprovingly at Snape, who was busy belittling another fellow Hufflepuff. "He hates you almost as much as he does with Harry and his friends. Heck, he bullies you just as bad as poor Neville. I wonder why?" 

"Who knows with that man?" Esmerelda shrugged, sending a side-glare at Snape's direction. The student he was snapping at looked seconds away from breaking into tears. 

He's never going to change, she thought solemnly, before cleaning up her work station. 

Her next class was herbology with Professor Sprout. She walked across the sodden vegetable patch before finally reaching greenhouse three where her House Head was. 

She was showing the class the ugliest plants she had ever seen, though they looked more like thick, black, giant slugs that plants. Each was squirming slightly and had a number of large, shiny swellings upon it, which appeared to be full of liquid.

"Bubotubers," Professor Sprout told them briskly. "They need squeezing. You will collect the pus—"

"—The what?" Seamus interrupted, sounding revolted. She couldn't blame him. 

"Pus, Finnigan, pus," Professor Sprout replied with a roll of her eyes. "And it's extremely valuable, so don't waste it. You will collect the pus, I say, in these bottles. Wear your dragon-hide gloves; it can do funny things to the skin when undiluted, bubotuber pus."

Squeezing the bubotubers was absolutely disgusting but somewhat satisfying for Esmerelda. As each swelling was popped, a large amount of thick yellowish-green liquid burst forth, which smelled strongly of petrol. They caught it in the bottles as Professor Sprout had indicated, and by the end of the lesson had collected several pints.

"This'll keep Madam Pomfrey happy," said Professor Sprout, stoppering the last bottle with a cork. "An excellent remedy for the more stubborn forms of acne, bubotuber pus. Should stop students resorting to desperate measures to rid themselves of pimples."

Oh this was definitely useful then, Esmerelda decided. 

"Like poor Eloise Midgen," Hannah said in a sympathetic. "She tried to curse hers off."

"Silly girl," Professor Sprout sighed and shook her head. "But Madam Pomfrey fixed her nose back on in the end."

A booming bell echoed from the castle across the wet grounds, signaling the end of the lesson, and the class separated; the Hufflepuffs climbing the stone steps for Transfiguration, and the Gryffindors heading in the other direction, down the sloping lawn toward Hagrid's small wooden cabin, which stood on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

When the bell rang to signal the start of afternoon lessons, Esmerelda set off for North Tower where, at the top of a tightly spiraling staircase, a silver stepladder led to a circular trap-door in the ceiling, and the room where Professor Trelawney lived. 

Esmerelda braced herself for the insanely strong perfume before bravely climbing in. The room hadn't changed at all from last year. It was still scattered with mismatched seats, the curtains were all closed, and the circular room was bathed in a dim reddish light cast by the many lamps which were all draped with scarves and shawls. 

She plopped down on a bouncy looking pouf, which might have been a mistake because her ADHD brain would not be able to resist not bouncing on it. 

Harry and Ron strolled in after she did and sat down at a table. Incidentally, they didn't seem to notice that Professor Trelawney was right behind them. 

"Good day," she greeted them with her misty voice. 

The boys jumped. Professor Trelawney was peering down at Harry with the tragic expression she always wore whenever she saw him. The usual large amount of beads, chains, and bangles glittered upon her person in the firelight.

"You are preoccupied, my dear," she said mournfully to Harry. "My inner eye sees past your brave face to the troubled soul within. And I regret to say that your worries are not baseless. I see difficult times ahead for you, alas... most difficult... I fear the thing you dread will indeed come to pass... and perhaps sooner than you think..." Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. 

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, who looked stonily back. 

Professor Trelawney swept past them and seated herself in a large winged armchair before the fire, facing the class. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who deeply admired Professor Trelawney, were sitting on poufs very close to her.

"My dears, it is time for us to consider the stars," she said. "The movements of the planets and the mysterious portents they reveal only to those who understand the steps of the celestial dance. Human destiny may be deciphered by the planetary rays, which intermingle..."

Esmerelda listened with barely any attention. The heaviness of the perfume was giving her a headache and all she wanted to do now was doze off. 

No! She mentally shouted at herself, snapping herself away. Remember what you promised dad! 

Ah right. She had promised him that she would try harder in school and at least try to get A's, E's, and O's. Falling asleep on the first day of class wouldn't help her achieve that. And so, she forced herself to stay awake despite the feeling of all her nose-hairs being burnt away. 

"—born under Saturn like Mr. Potter here," Trelawney finished, gesturing majestically over to Harry. Unfortunately, Harry was staring at the wall and not paying any attention to her. 

Ron nudged him. "Harry!" He muttered. 

"What?" He blinked, and looked around. The whole class was staring at him at this point. Face reddening slightly, he sat up straight. 

"I was saying, my dear, that you were clearly born under the baleful influence of Saturn," Professor Trelawney said, a faint note of resentment in her voice at the fact that he had obviously not been hanging on her words.

But he was still confused. "Born under—what, sorry?" 

"Saturn, dear, the planet Saturn!" Professor Trelawney said, growing even more irate with him and his disinterest. "I was saying that Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your birth... Your dark hair... your mean stature... tragic losses so young in life... I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in midwinter?"

Esmerelda held in a snort. This lady really went and called Harry 'mean'. 

"No," he replied. "I was born in July."

Ron hastily turned his laugh into a hacking cough.

Half an hour later, each of them had been given a complicated circular chart, and was attempting to fill in the position of the planets at their moment of birth. It was dull work, requiring much consultation of timetables and calculation of angles.

"I've got Venus, Mars, and Saturn," Esmerelda muttered. 

"Venus sounds good!" Hannah chirped. "The planet Venus represents love, passion, balance, and devotion! Ooooh, sounds like you're going to find some romance in your life soon." 

"And war," Esmerelda added bluntly. "Mars symbolizes war, and Saturn... well, I kinda forgot what Professor Trelawney said but it wasn't good..." Plus, it was the Roman name of Kronos. That alone was bad enough. 

How ironic, she thought miserably. That I was born when the planet Saturn was closest to me. 

While Hannah was figuring hers out, Lavender let out an excited squeal. "Oh Professor, look! I think I've got an unexpected planet! Oooh, which one's that, Professor?"

"It is Uranus, my dear," Professor Trelawney answered, peering down at the chart.

"Can I have a look at Uranus too, Lavender?" Ron joked.

"You know, I always thought it was pronounced urine-uss, and not your-anus." Esmerelda mentioned to a giggly Hannah. 

Unfortunately for Ron (and everyone else, to be honest), Professor Trelawney heard him, and it was this, perhaps, that made her give them so much homework at the end of the class.

"A detailed analysis of the way the planetary movements in the coming month will affect you, with reference to your personal chart," she snapped, sounding much more like Professor McGonagall than her usual airy-fairy self. "I want it ready to hand in next Monday, and no excuses!"

"Thanks a lot, Ron," Esmerelda sighed, sending the boy a mutinous look as they descended down the staircases back to the Great Hall. "I was hoping to a have a homework-free first day..." 

"It's not my fault she's a miserable old bat," he said bitterly. "That'll take all weekend, that will..." 

"Lots of homework?" Hermione asked brightly, catching up with them. "Professor Vector didn't give us any at all!"

"It was all Ron's fault, he was being a perv," Harry snickered. 

His face turned as red as his hair. "I was not!" 

Esmerelda giggled along side the other boy and spoke with an exaggerated deep voice, "'Oh, can I see Uranus, Lavander?'."

Hermione, however, did not find it funny. Her jaw dropped and she glared at the culprit. "You said that?!" 

"Oh not you too!" He groaned. 

They reached the entrance hall, which was packed with people queuing for dinner. They had just joined the end of the line, when a loud voice rang out behind them.

"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"

Esmerelda recognized the voice within seconds. It was Draco, and he was using his 'I'm going to behave badly' voice too, which was even worse. 

They whirled around and saw the pale blonde with Crabbe and Goyle (naturally) beside him. Each looked thoroughly pleased about something.

"What?" Ron said irritably.

"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" He exclaimed, brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet and speaking very loudly, so that everyone in the packed entrance hall could hear. "Listen to this!"

FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.

Draco looked up. "Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?" He crowed.

Everyone in the entrance hall was listening now. Malfoy straightened the paper with a flourish and read on:

Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene.

"Draco, that's enough," Esmerelda sighed heavily, rubbing her forehead. She was feeling yet another headache coming up. 

But he pointedly ignored her, the little shit. 

"And there's a picture, Weasley!" He said, flipping the paper over and holding it up. "A picture of your parents outside their house—if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

Ron was shaking with fury. Everyone was staring at him.

"Get stuffed, Malfoy," Harry said. "C'mon, Ron..."

"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" Draco sneered. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"

"You know your mother, Malfoy?" Harry began, and both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron's robes to stop him from launching himself at Draco. "That expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"

Draco's pale face went slightly pink. "Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter."

"Keep your fat mouth shut, then," he quipped, turning away.

BANG!

"Draco!" Esmerelda scolded him harshly when a white light shot out of the boy's wand and just barely grazed the side of Harry's face. Harry quickly went for his wand but then another loud BANG! was heard. 

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!" Someone yelled. 

Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Draco had been standing.

Esmerelda blinked. It took her about five seconds to understand what had just happened. She found herself stuck between being amused and slightly disapproving. 

"Did he get you?" Moody growled at Harry. His voice was low and gravelly.

"No," he answered. "Missed."

"LEAVE IT!" Moody suddenly shouted.

"Leave—what?" Harry said, bewildered.

"Not you—him!" Moody growled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Crabbe, who had just frozen, about to pick up the white ferret. It seemed that Moody's rolling eye was magical and could see out of the back of his head.

Moody started to limp toward Crabbe, Goyle, and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking toward the dungeons.

"I don't think so!" Moody roared, pointing his wand at the ferret again—it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do..."

The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly. "Never—do—that—again—" Moody said, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.

This guy's giving me Snape vibes, Esmerelda thought before deciding to finally step in. 

"Alright, that's enough," she said, and with a snap of her fingers, Draco was back to human, cowering on the floor. She helped him off and she could feel him shaking. "You okay?" She asked him. 

"Y-yes..." He said, shooting Moody a wary glare. 

"It was wrong of you to do that to Ron and to attack Harry," she said sternly, before looking over at Moody. "But turning you into a ferret was unnecessary. Thank you for stopping him, Professor, but you went a little too far." 

"Aw, come on, Essie!" Ron whined from behind her. 

"Say you're sorry to Ron and Harry," she told Draco firmly, who shrunk under her stern gaze. 

"Fine," he muttered bitterly. He looked over to Ron and Harry and practically spat out the words: "I'm sorry." 

"For?" She pressed on. 

He gave her a half-pleading half-whining look before turning back to the duo. "I'm... sorry," he struggled to say. "Weasley, for making fun of your family... and... and... Potter... for attacking you..." 

Ron and Harry were a weird mix of satisfaction and awe at Esmerelda influence over him. "We, er, forgive you, Malfoy." Ron said after also receiving Esmerelda's firm look. 

Esmerelda beamed and nodded in approval at the three boys. She then looked at Professor Moody with a smile. "See? Everything's all settled here. No need to turn anyone into ferrets." 

But it didn't seem like Moody cared much about that anymore. "Essie are ya?" He growled. "As in Esmerelda Black, the daughter of Sirius Black?"

Her smile nearly fell, but she nodded in response. "Yes? Something wrong with that, Professor?" Her tone was sweet as ever, but nobody could deny the hidden challenge in her voice as if she was daring him to try and say anything that would piss her off. 

"No," he grunted, shaking his head. "Nothing at all."

And then he walked off. 

Esmerelda eyed him weirdly, before shaking it off. The guy was weird, but whatever. If he was anything dangerous then she'd be getting bad vibes from him, but she hadn't been. So either he was perfectly innocent, or he wasn't as dangerous as he liked to believe.

Either way, after making sure Draco was okay and wasn't suffering from any post-transfiguration ailments (aside from his temporarily twitchy nose and his disgusting craving for rodents) she filed into the Great Hall and plopped down beside Cedric. 

"So," he began. "You can un-transfigure people with a snap of your fingers. I wasn't aware of that." 

"Well, you asked my help for DADA, not transfiguration. Also, transfiguration isn't really my strong point despite being an illegal animagus and all." She accidentally said. 

"Yeah, well—" He froze. "Wait what?" 

"What?" She blinked. 

"Did you—did you just—? You're an illegal animagus?!" He said in a hushed whisper, eyes wide in pure disbelief. 

She realized her mistake too late. "No," she said, hastily shaking her head. "I didn't say that. You heard wrong." 

"No, I didn't!" He freaked out. "Oh Merlin's pants, was this because I told you all about them during your first year?! Did you—oh no, oh no, oh no—did you become an animagus in your first year?!" 

She internally panicked. In this sort of situation, she could easily just use the Mist to make him forget this conversation ever happened, but this was her best bro Cedric... Erasing his memory—even if it was just a small bit of it—seemed like a mean thing to do to someone she actually cared about. 

So she settled with doing the right thing and not using the Mist on him. 

Instead, she gave him a very sheepish look. "Er... I'm sorry?" 

He dropped his fork and held his head in his hands. "Oh my god," he sounded like he was seconds away from hyperventilating. "Oh my god. I'm screwed. I'm screwed. I just—I just aided and abetted you in a crime! What am I gonna do, Essie? My—my dad works for the Ministry, he'll be so disappointed and—" 

"—Ced," she said calmly. "Relax, dude. You didn't 'aid or abet' me in any crime and I'm not gonna get caught. You're perfectly fine." 

"But—"

"—Perfectly fine." She repeated. 

"How on earth did you even manage to become an—an illegal animagus?!" He whispered lowly so nobody could hear. 

"I worked on it over the summer after my first year," she explained with a shrug. "It took me forever. Do you know how many mandrake leaves I swallowed on accident? Gods, it drove me crazy." 

He continued to stare at her in astonishment. "I cannot believe I'm just listening to you casually talk about the crime you've committed when you were like, what, twelve? What other crimes have you partaken in?"

"Oh, like, one or two," she replied jokingly. 

He looked horrified. 

"Dude, I'm totally kidding," she lied, just to assured him. 

He was relieved to hear that. "So what animal do you turn into?" He asked curiously. 

She flushed, which made him even more curious. "Come on, what is it?" 

"Ugh," she groaned. She looked around to make sure nobody could hear, as if the thought of someone knowing what animal she could turn into was was actually worse than them finding out she was an illegal animagus. "I can turn into... a pomeranian," she muttered lowly. 

"Yeah, that fits," he replied, nodding along. 

She shrunk in her seat. Seriously? Even he thought she'd be some small little animal? 

"Just... don't tell anyone, please?" She asked, trying to fight down the embarrassment.

"Are you kidding? 'Course I won't! They might connect me to the crime! Your secret's safe with me, so don't worry." He promised. 

"Thanks," she sighed in relief. 

Once dinner was over, everyone filed to their respective dormitories. The Hufflepuff common room wasn't that full since most of the students never got any homework (it was the first day of school after all), but Esmerelda—thanks to Ron—wasn't one of the lucky ones. 

Fortunately for her, she only had to work on her divination homework. That, and it was due next Monday. She still wanted to get some of it started though, so she wrote some made-up analysis about how the next month's planetary movements would lead to the demise of her and her loved ones and all that tragic stuff that Professor Trelawney seemed to enjoy. 

Just when she was about to head up to her room and get her well-deserved sleep, she suddenly remembered that she still needed to give Madam Pomfrey her supply of nectar and ambrosia to keep in the hospital wing. She used to keep it in the dorms, but she was worried that one of her roommates might mistake the ambrosia as a 'candy' and eat it—which would result to them spontaneously combusting. 

Yeah, not a very pleasant thought. 

So with her bottle of nectar and baggie of ambrosia, she set off to the Hospital Wing. Unbeknownst to her, Professor Moody was standing behind a pillar as she approached the moving staircase. Not wanting to get caught using magic by all the talking portraits on the wall, he casually moved towards her. 

"Black," he greeted with a nod. 

"Hi Professor," she chirped back, perfectly unaware of what he was about to do. 

He joined her down the staircase, his eyes trailing down to where her feet were. Then, he jerked his cane out, striking the back of her calf and sending her tumbling down the staircase. 

His eyes widened with sadistic glee. A feeling of euphoria swelled within him. He had just accomplished his master's first wish and now all he had to do was deal with Potter—

—But then his happiness abruptly ended when Esmerelda flipped her body in mid-air and landed on the next platform with perfect ease. Even more insulting was that she was still carrying the accursed bottle and baggie of food. 

To make things even more worse, the paintings on the wall all gasped in amazement and applauded her for her stupid stunt. 

"Whoa," she said, eyes wide as she glanced back up at him. "Wow! Uh, that was really close huh? Gods, I swear it was like my life flashed before my eyes, hahaha...!" 

Moody stared at her, eyes bulging and his grip on the cane tightening so badly that his hands were shaking. He... FAILED?!

She completely misunderstood his reaction and sent him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about this, Professor. Accidents happen. I won't tell anyone, promise!" 

He let out a savage snarl and stormed away. 

Esmerelda blinked as he disappeared from her view. "Er, well, okay... I guess he's really worried that I'll tell, huh?" 

— author's note —

Assassination attempt #1: Pushing her down the stairs (failed)

Barty Crouch Jr really thought it'd be easy to kill Essie BY PUSHING HER DOWN THE FUCKING STAIRS XD I almost feel bad for the man cuz he's not gonna stop trying, but he'll keep failing anyways 😂 😂 😂

Essie genuinely thinks it was an accident, which is even funnier. You know how I mentioned that Essie wasn't getting any bad vibes from him? It's cuz he doesn't even fall under the radar as a 'massive threat' to her. He's insignificant compared to everything else the Fates threw at her. He's basically like... an annoying fly XD 

Also... her divination class was certainly... interesting hmmm?? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

"Moody" thinking he succeeded in killing Essie: 

"Moody" when he realized he actually failed: 

Essie being blissfully unaware that someone in Hogwarts is trying to kill her:

Don't worry guys, Moody's gonna keep on trying. There will be many more hilarious assassination attempts that he'll completely fail on 😂 😂