𝗕𝗥𝗨𝗧𝗔𝗟

ACT ONE, CHAPTER FOUR
defense against the dark arts
turns into a screaming match, but
penelope meets venus black!

IF THERE WAS one way Penelope didn't want to start her morning, it was chasing Draco, Theodore Nott, and Blaise Zabini around the Slytherin common room to try and get her Prefect badge back.

Apparently, it had been Theodore's amazing plan — on the first day of classes — to make her as annoyed as possible so she could be a real bitch for the rest of the day. Idiot.

"Theo!" Penelope shouted as she ran around the common room, some other Slytherins laughing at the whole situation while Penelope tried to catch up to him. "Theodore, I swear to God!"

Tracey, with Daphne and Millicent right behind her, then appeared in the path of Theodore — who was the one actually holding her badge — and crossed her arms. "You heard the girl, Nott. Give it back."

Theodore smirked at her. "You're looking mighty fine today, Davis—"

"Don't even start that shit with me." Tracey held out her hand, her palm facing up. "Come on."

With a sigh, Theodore placed the badge in her hand. Tracey smiled sarcastically at him, but once he joined Draco and Blaise, it instantly slipped off her face and formed into a scowl. She handed the badge to Penelope who then pinned it onto the front of her Slytherin robes. Penelope glared at the three boys as they walked out of the common room and shook her head.

"Jerks," Daphne commented bitterly.

Penelope scoffed. "You can say that again. Hey, where's Pansy?"

"Already at the Slytherin table," Millicent answered. "Saving Draco a seat."

Penelope rolled her eyes as they exited the common room, the stone door instantly concealing itself into the wall. "Another year of trying to explain to her that he's just not into her. I'm honestly done trying."

They climbed the stairs from the dungeon up to the entrance hall and entered the Great Hall. Sure enough, Pansy was shrieking with laughter even this early in the morning at something Draco said. Penelope sighed and sat down towards the middle of the Slytherin table, trying not to disturb Charlotte Thomas, who was reading. She instantly put some pancakes with syrup and bacon onto her plate for breakfast.

Owls were began to fly in through the upper windows once they settled down. They descended over the Hall, delivering letters and packages to their owners and bringing in droplets of water — apparently it was raining. Penelope glanced around and spotted Annabeth flying towards her. She grinned as her owl landed and took the beak from her mouth. With a low hoot, Annabeth flew off, presumably to go back to the Owlery.

"Who's it from?" Millicent asked as Penelope tore open the letter.

"Dora," Penelope replied, her eyes scanning down the letter. "She says she's busy with the Ministry — apparently Fudge is freaking the fuck out — and how she wants me to send some Hogwarts treats back to her." Penelope grinned slightly to herself as she put her letter in her bag. "Typical."

A dark shadow suddenly loomed over her. Penelope looked up to see Snape standing there, holding out her schedule to her. She raised an eyebrow and took it at him. Penelope instantly began to study it while Snape handed out the schedules to the rest of her friends.

"Herbology, double Potions, Muggle studies, and double Defense," Penelope read.

"With that Umbridge woman?" Tracey questioned. "Yeah, no thanks."

"I wonder what she's actually like," Millicent responded. "Mother and father seem to like her, so maybe she'll be okay."

Daphne shrugged. "I guess we'll find out. Want some orange juice, Millie?"

The rest of breakfast consisted of small conversations about studies, what some of them did over the summer, and how Umbridge really needed some new clothes before they decided to go to the greenhouses. Professor Sprout instantly jumped into a boring speech about the importance of O.W.L.'s and what they would be learning to be prepared.

After being assigned an essay, the Slytherins left the greenhouses to go to double Potions. Penelope wasn't exactly very excited for it — they had Potions with the Gryffindors, which meant Snape would probably pick on one of them. It would probably be either Potter or Longbottom (who always seemed scared of her for some reason, she didn't know why.)

There was a long queue lining up outside the classroom door. Penelope spotted Potter and Black talking to Thomas while Weasley and Hermione were bickering somewhere in the corner. Weasley glanced over, and he instantly paused his arguing once him and Penelope's eyes locked. She offered him a small smile before getting in line with Tracey, Daphne, and Millicent — Pansy still hanging off of Draco's arm.

"Have a good morning, Penelope?" Draco teased, a smirk on his lips.

Penelope stared at him harshly. "You know how my morning went."

The ominous sound of Snape's classroom door sounded. All of the fifth year Slytherins and Gryffindors filed into the classroom. Penelope went to the other side of the room — the two Houses liked to be separated, with the exception of Thomas — and sat at her usual table with Tracey and Daphne.

"Settle down," Snape demanded coldly as he shut the door behind him.

There was really no need for him to call them to order. In fact, the class became quiet and the fidgeting stopped the moment the door had closed. Snape's presence was usually enough to ensure a class would be silence — world's biggest asshole, and all.

Sure, yeah, he was her Head of House, but Penelope never felt enjoyment or felt any direct favoritism from Snape herself like Draco did. She just never really liked how he pretty much bullied children and was utterly prejudiced towards Slytherins and against Muggle-borns. Like seriously — Penelope really just thought he needed to grow the fuck up and get a hold of himself.

"Before we begin today's lesson, I think it appropriate to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions," Snape continued. "Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an Acceptable in your O.W.L., or suffer my . . . displeasure."

His gaze lingered on Longbottom, who gulped nervously. Penelope scoffed quietly to herself.

"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me. I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye."

His eyes then landed on Potter with his lip curled. Potter glared back. Penelope just found it kind of pathetic how a teacher had a rivalry with a student. Ugh.

"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell, so whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students. Today we will be mixing a potion that often comes up at Ordinary Wizarding Level: the Draught of Peace, a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: If you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing."

Daphne's eyes widened. "What . . . that potion's one of the most advanced ones for our year. On the first day?"

"You really expected him to give us something easy?" Tracey asked. "Come on, Daph, you're kidding yourself."

"The ingredients and method—" Snape flicked his wand "—are on the blackboard—" the ingredients and directions appeared on the board "—you will find everything you need—" he flicked his wand once more "—in the store cupboard—" the cupboard swung open "—you have an hour and a half . . . start."

Penelope, despite being kind of good at Potions — she wanted to be a Healer, so she learned to be good at Potions — still found this one to be extremely difficult. There was a specific order and quantities of which the ingredients had to be added to the cauldron, the mixture had to be stirred clockwise then counterclockwise an exact amount of times, and the final ingredient could only be added if the flame was lowered exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes so the potion could simmer.

"A light silver vapor should now be rising from your potion," Snape announced when there were ten minutes left of the given time.

Penelope — her hair now in a messy knot at the top of her head, she honestly didn't care how she looked at the moment, Herbology then Potions was rough — looked down at her potions. She breathed a sigh of relief. On the surface of her potion was a shimmering mist of silver vapor.

She looked around at the other potions. Potter's was letting out dark gray steam (oh no), Weasley's was spitting out green sparks (Penelope's heart glowed at the slightly astonished look on his face — what the fuck), Finnigan was trying to relight the flame at the base of his cauldron (that wouldn't end well), Longbottom looked like he was mixing cement (a good try, though), and Hermione, Black, and Thomas' potions looked exactly like Penelope's.

Daphne stared down at her potion in sadness, which was gray like Potter's. "Well, so much for that."

Tracey patted her shoulder in comfort. "You'll get there soon, honey."

"Potter, what is this supposed to be?" Snape suddenly inquired.

Penelope inwardly groaned. Here they go. Snape was standing over a very annoyed Potter and his potion. The Slytherins — except Penelope, Tracey, and Daphne — looked up eagerly. They just loved to hear Snape taunt Potter. It was honestly pretty sad.

"Can't they give him a break?" Penelope complained. "He's had enough damage in his life."

Daphne's eyebrows knit in confusion. "When did you get so sympathetic towards Potter?"

"When I realized that he never wanted to be the hero of the story."

"The Draught of Peace," Harry responded to Snape tensely.

"Tell me, Potter, can you read?" Snape asked softly.

Draco let out a laugh at that.

Penelope rolled her eyes and looked at his table, which is right next to hers. "For once in your life, please just shut your mouth."

He blinked at her. "You're still mad about the Prefect badge?"

"Yes, I can," Harry replied, stopping their conversation.

"Read the third line of the instructions for me, Potter," Snape ordered.

Harry squinted at the blackboard through the haze in the room. "Add powdered moonstone, stir three times counterclockwise, allow to simmer for seven minutes, then add two drops of syrup of hellebore."

"Did you do everything on the third line, Potter?"

"No," Harry admitted very quietly.

"I beg your pardon?" Snape urged.

"No," Harry repeated louder. "I forgot the hellebore . . ."

"I know you did, Potter, which means that this mess is utterly worthless. Evanesco." Harry's potion vanished from his cauldron, and Penelope frowned. "Those of you who have managed to read the instructions, fill one flagon with a sample of your potion, label it clearly with your name, and bring it up to my desk for testing. Homework: twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday."

Penelope sighed and took her own flagon. After writing her name on the label, she filled it with her Draught of Peace and brought it to Snape's desk. The bell rang when she got back to her seat and she picked up her bag, leaving the classroom with Tracey, Daphne, and Millicent.

"Thank God that's over," Tracey voiced as they walked into the Great Hall, ignoring how Angelina Johnson was yelling at Potter. "Double Potions is like actual living hell."

Millicent shrugged. "Found it quite interesting. Plus, the way Snape yelled at Potter? Hilarious."

"Tell me about it," Pansy agreed, settling herself down next to Millicent. "It seriously made my day."

Penelope raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you're actually sitting with us now?"

"Thought I'd stop and chat." Pansy looked up from her plate curiously. "I didn't see you laughing, Lestrange. Or you, Greengrass and Davis."

"I'd just rather not focus my entire sense of humor on a teacher bullying a student," Penelope countered. "My bad."

Tracey nodded her head to Penelope. "What she said."

"I just didn't find it funny," Daphne admitted.

Pansy stared at them incredulously. "You three, it's Potter. He's always laughable. It's just even better when Snape makes fun of him."

Penelope scoffed. "I'm so over this."

"Why do you keep defending him?" Pansy questioned. "It's like you're in love with him or something."

Their group went silent. Penelope's features hardened and she got that Tonks glare — also known as the Andromeda glare, since she grew up with Bellatrix and Narcissa. She was not in love with him. In fact, the only fact that she was defending him is because her and Potter were kind of one in the same. Potter had pressure on him to save the world, Penelope had the pressure on her to not become anything like her mother even though people were expecting her to. It seemed like they had mutual understanding, with Bellatrix being Voldemort's most loyal Death Eater.

Penelope stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Stay the fuck away from me, Parkinson."

With that, she abandoned her lunch and stormed out of the Great Hall, completely unaware to the way Ron Weasley was staring after her in concern.

Muggle Studies passed with no problem. Penelope didn't talk much — she pretty much just stared at her parchment, listening to Professor Burbage talk about O.W.L.'s and stuff like that. The bell then rang, and Penelope sighed before leaving the classroom. It was time for double Defense Against the Dark Arts with that Umbridge woman, and she was not looking forward to it.

She walked into the Defense classroom alone. Umbridge was seated at the teacher's desk wearing her horrible pink cardigan and a black velvet bow on the top of her head. Some students were already in there, but not enough that all the seats were already taken. Penelope made her way over to the right side of the room and sat down, slumping her chin into the palm of her hand.

"So, you're in love with Potter?" Tracey's voice inquired quietly as she sat down next to Penelope.

Penelope looked over at her. "Far from it. I told you, we're civil." She then nodded her head over to Potter, who was engaging in a small conversation that consisted of small smiles and red cheeks with the new girl, Venus Black. "Plus, I think I would be getting in the way of that."

Tracey looked over and smirked a little. "Wonder how Pansy's gonna react to that. She already doesn't like Black, but I think she's just acting weird. Ignore her."

The rest of the students filed in. It was quiet — none of them knew what Umbridge was going to be like. Finally, the whole class sat down, and Umbridge began the class.

"Well, good afternoon!" Some people muttered good afternoon, but that apparently wasn't good enough for her. "Tut, tut. That won't do, now, will it? I should like you, please, to reply Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge. One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," all of them chorused.

"There, now. That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."

Penelope shared a gloomy look with Tracey. A lesson with no wands was never interesting. Nevertheless, she tucked her wand away in her bag and pulled out her quill, ink, and a piece of parchment. Umbridge opened her handbag, extracted her own abnormally short wand, and sharply tapped the blackboard. Words appeared on the board at once.

Defense Against the Dark Arts
A Return to Basic Principles

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" Umbridge asked, turning to face the class with her hands clasped in front of her. "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year. You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."

She tapped the blackboard again with her wand. The first message vanished and was replaced by a list.

Course Aims
1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.
2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.
3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

The room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment for a couple minutes. Once Penelope finished copying down the list, she set her quill down and leaned back in her chair, studying Umbridge curiously.

"Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?" Umbridge questioned. A dull murmur of assent rang throughout the class. "I think we'll try that again. When I ask you a question, I should like you to reply Yes, Professor Umbridge, or No, Professor Umbridge. So, has everyone got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

Tracey leaned closer to Penelope. "The fuck?"

Penelope shrugged. "I don't know either."

"Yes, Professor Umbridge," everyone chanted.

"Good," Umbridge approved. "I should like you to turn to page five and read chapter one, Basics for Beginners. There will be no need to talk."

Umbridge left the blackboard. She sat in the chair behind the teacher's desk and observed them all with her pouchy eyes. Penelope's eyebrows knit in thought, but nevertheless, she opened her book to the first chapter.

Okay, Penelope tried, but this chapter was so fucking boring. It was even worse than listening to Professor Binns, the person who taught History of Magic, and that was saying a lot. She kept reading the same sentence over and over again and was barely registering anything. Tracey suddenly elbowed her, and Penelope looked up in confusion. She pointed to the middle of the classroom, and Penelope followed to see her looking at none other than Hermione.

Hermione had not eve opened her copy of Defensive Magical Theory. Instead, she was staring fixedly at Umbridge with her hand raised. Penelope wondered if Hermione was losing it. The girl always had her nose tucked in a book. Yet here she was, just completely refusing to read.

Several minutes passed, and now more and more people were watching Hermione instead of trying to read Basics for Beginners. Hermione still had her hand raised in a mute attempt to catch Umbridge's attention. When pretty much the whole class was ignoring their books, Umbridge seemed to decide she could not ignore the situation any longer.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" Umbridge inquired, as if she had just noticed her.

"Not about the chapter, no," Hermione replied.

"Well, we're reading just now. If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."

"I've got a query about your course aims."

Umbridge raised her eyebrows. "And your name is—?"

"Hermione Granger," Hermione answered.

"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully."

"Well, I don't. There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."

A short silence. Penelope glanced up at the blackboard and frowned at the blackboard. Hermione was right (as per usual.) Nothing on the board said they would be practicing the spells.

"Using defensive spells?" Umbridge repeated, laughing in a way that annoyed Penelope down to her bones. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

"We're not going to use magic?" Weasley asked loudly.

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr.—?"

"Weasley," Ron responded, instantly thrusting his hand into the air.

Umbridge smiled widely and turned his back on him. Potter and Hermione immediately raised their hands as well — Golden trio things. Umbridge's eyes lingered on Potter for a moment before addressing Hermione.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" Umbridge continued. "You wanted to ask something else?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed. "Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"

Umbridge's voice was sugary sweet, but in a very fake and bitchy way. "Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?"

"No, but—"

"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the whole point of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way—"

"What use is that?" Potter questioned, his voice raised. "If we're going to be attacked it won't be in a—"

"Hand, Mr. Potter!" Umbridge scolded.

Potter raised his hand. Umbridge promptly turned away from him, but now several other people also had their hands raised. Penelope suddenly straightened up. This was getting interesting.

"And your name is?" Umbridge said to Dean Thomas.

"Dean Thomas," Thomas answered.

"Well, Mr. Thomas?"

"Well, it's like Harry said, isn't it? If we're going to be attacked, it won't be risk-free—"

"I repeat, do you expect to be attacked during my classes?" Umbridge inquired with an irritating smile.

"No, but—"

Umbridge talked over him, apparently not giving a damn about what Thomas had to say. "I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school, but you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed — not to mention extremely dangerous half-breeds."

"If you mean Professor Lupin, he was the best we ever—" Thomas started to defend angrily.

"Hand, Mr. Thomas! As I was saying — you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day—"

"No we haven't," Hermione interrupted. "We just—"

"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!" Umbridge turned away from Hermione when she put her hand up. "It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you—"

"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" Thomas asked hotly. "Mind you, we still learned loads—"

"Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas! Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which, after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?"

Parvati Patil, the girl she asked the name for, then spoke. "Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the counter curses and things?"

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions," Umbridge responded dismissively.

"Without ever practicing them before? Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?"

"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough—"

A theory? Oh, hell no. Now, Penelope had a lot of fun watching the students argue back and forth Umbridge — but this time, she could not let that slip by. Penelope had told Potter back at Grimmauld Place by the tapestry if that if anyone was going to escape Azkaban, it would be Bellatrix Lestrange. She had to be prepared if that happened. School was a place they were supposed to learn, and why have a class called Defense Against the Dark Arts if they weren't learning to defend themselves? In no way would a theory benefit her.

Penelope raised her hand, ignoring the weird stares she got from the rest of the class. "I have a problem with that, Professor."

"Your name?" Umbridge urged.

"Penelope Lestrange," she answered, lowering her hand and tilting her head at Umbridge curiously, a sort of fire in her eyes. "Don't know if you noticed, but Bellatrix Lestrange — my crazy mother — could literally break out of Azkaban any day now. I'm not going to just sit around and wait for that to happen, only to have no practical skills to defend myself. Respectfully, a theory is going to do nothing for me."

"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" Potter added onto her comment loudly, his hand still in the air.

Umbridge looked over at him. "This is school, Mr. Potter and Miss Lestrange, not the real world."

"Bullshit," Penelope muttered to herself, and Tracey nodded in agreement.

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting out there?" Potter inquired.

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter," Umbridge assured him.

"Oh yeah?"

Well, that isn't good. Judging by the things she heard, Penelope knew Potter had quite a temper. The outcome definitely wouldn't be good, but maybe it would be entertaining to see Potter go off on Umbridge.

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" Umbridge asked in a horribly honeyed voice.

"Harry," Venus Black protested quietly.

"Hmm, let's think . . ." Potter trailed off, his tone mocking. "Maybe Lord Voldemort?"

And there it was. Penelope smirked, and a rush of impressment flowed throughout her. Who knew he had the balls? However, she couldn't say the rest of the class was as happy as she was. Weasley gasped, Lavender Brown let out a small scream, and Longbottom slipped sideways off of his stool. Umbridge didn't even flinch and merely just stared at Potter with a grimly satisfied expression.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter," Umbridge told him over the silence and stillness of the classroom. "Now, let me make a few things quite plain. You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead—"

"He wasn't dead," Potter insisted angrily. "But yeah, he's returned!"

"Mr.-Potter-you-have-already-lost-your-House-ten-points-do-not-make-matters-worse-for-yourself," Umbridge let out in one breath without looking at him. "As I was saying, you have been informed that a certain Dark wizard is at large once again. This is a lie."

"It is NOT a lie! I saw him, I fought him!"

"Detention, Mr. Potter!" Umbridge decided triumphantly. "Tomorrow evening. Five o'clock. My office. I repeat, this is a lie. The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend. And now, you will kindly continue your reading. Page five, Basics for Beginners."

Umbridge sat down behind her desk once more. Potter apparently didn't like that. He stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. Penelope stared at him in fascination.

"Harry, wait," Black voiced.

"Not right now, Star," Potter replied. Penelope's eyebrows knit in confusion — Star? — but Potter raised his voice. "So, according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?"

A collective intake of breath. Nobody had ever heard Potter talk about the details of what happened the night Cedric Diggory died during the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. Not even Penelope knew — well, she just wasn't going to fucking walk up to Potter at Grimmauld place and say oh hey tell me about the most traumatic night of your entire life. That wouldn't be very nice of her. She could be a bitch, but she wasn't that much of a bitch.

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," Umbridge stated coldly.

"It was murder," Potter insisted, shaking from anger. "Voldemort killed him, and you know it."

Umbridge's face was blank for a moment. "Come here, Mr. Potter, dear."

Potter kicked his chair aside, strode around Black, Weasley, and Granger, and approached the teacher's desk. The rest of the class held its breath, but Penelope just merely watched the whole thing unfold. Umbridge then pulled out a small roll of pink parchment from her handbag and started to scribble on it with her quill. Nobody spoke at all for a solid minute until Umbridge rolled up the parchment and sealed it with her hand.

Umbridge held the note out to Potter. "Take this to Professor McGonagall, dear."

Potter took it from her. He strode down the classroom, and Penelope saw his eyes catch with Black's for a moment. Potter then left the classroom and slammed the door shut behind her. Penelope shared a look with Tracey, Well, wasn't that something?

"Yes, Miss—?" Umbridge began, and Penelope looked back over to see Black raising her hand.

"Black," Black finished. "Venus Black. I'm just a little confused. Why would you believe Harry was lying? I mean, something that huge, that dangerous . . . it's bound to be the truth. He wouldn't just make it up."

Yes, thank you, Penelope exclaimed in her mind. That's what I've been trying to say!

Umbridge stared at Black curiously. "Miss Black, you are merely a transfer student."

"But you think I don't know what I'm talking about? My parents work for the Ministry, and it seems like I know more than you." Black raised an eyebrow. "Harry's telling the truth. You're just too scared to admit that."

"If you believe that, then you will be joining Mr. Potter tomorrow at detention," Umbridge told her, and Black blinked in surprise. "Now, return to your reading."

Penelope shook her head. This woman was God awful.

・゜・。・゜。・。・゜★

CARE OF MAGICAL Creatures wasn't exactly Penelope's favorite class, per se. Her favorite class was Charms, and she thought magical creatures were cute . . . sometimes, but she didn't really want to go into the same field as Hagrid. Speaking of him, he had been gone since they got back to school, much to Draco's excitement. Penelope was kind of sad. She always kind of liked Hagrid.

After History of Magic (which was painfully boring) and Charms, it was time for Care of Magical Creatures. Penelope strode behind Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy with Daphne down to Hagrid's cabin. Tracey and Millicent opted not to take this class this year, but at least Penelope had Daphne to keep her company. Already there were some other students along with the group of Potter, Weasley, Hermione, Black, and Thomas (Charlotte, not Dean.) Draco had just made a comment about Potter before they approached Professor Grubbly-Plank, who was behind  a long trestle table that was filled with twigs.

"Well, isn't in the transfer student," Draco announced once they stopped. "You know, it would benefit you a lot more of you hung out with our crowd instead of theirs."

Penelope really did not want him to start anything right now, so she stepped in. "Leave her alone, Draco." She then looked over to Black and extended her hand to her with a smile. "Don't believe we've formally met. Penelope Lestrange."

Black shook her hand while grinning as well. "Venus Black. Nice to meet you."

"Soft," Draco muttered, making Crabbe and Goyle laugh.

Penelope exhaled in annoyance and glared at them. "I suggest you two shut the fuck up before I punch the living daylights out of you. And Draco, don't forget what I said yesterday. Act nice. Don't be annoying little bitch."

Potter, Weasley, and Thomas laughed. Penelope locked eyes with Weasley as he did so, her heart glowing at the sound of his laugh. His cheeks turned pink as they kept their gazes together before Penelope ultimately ultimately snapped out of it. She smirked triumphantly at Draco's expression and crossed her arms over her chest.

"And, Malfoy . . ." Black began. "Ilvermorny was actually co-founded by a descendant of Salazar Slytherin." She offered him a very sarcastic smile. "Maybe you should do some research before you talk to me."

Penelope let out a low laugh and pointed to Draco. "Oh, she so shut you down."

Draco pushed her hand down with a scowl. "Shut up, Penelope."

"Everyone here?" Grubbly-Plank questioned once all the Slytherins and Gryffindors had arrived. "Let's crack on then — who can tell me what these things are called?"

She gestured to the heap of twigs on the table in front of her. Hermione's hand instantly shot up — obviously. Draco then began to do a buck-toothed impression of Hermione jumping up and down in eagerness to answer a question. Pansy let out a shriek of laughter that was basically almost a scream. Penelope winced and went to go say something, but Venus turned around and glared at them. It was so harsh that Draco and Pansy's antics slowly ceased to an end.

Penelope stared at Black in front of her. She liked this girl.

The twigs on the table leaped into the air. They revealed themselves to be what seemed like tiny Pixieish creatures that were made of wood. Each had knobbly brown arms and legs, two twig-like fingers at the end of each hand, and a flat, bark-like face where a pair of beetle-brown eyes glittered.

"Oooooh!" Parvati and Lavender exclaimed.

"Kindly keep your voices down, girls!" Grubbly-Plank urged, feeding the creatures with what seemed to be brown rice. "So — anyone know the names of these creatures? Miss Granger?"

"Bowtruckles," Hermione responded. "They're tree-guardians, usually live in wand-trees."

"Five points for Gryffindor. Yes, these are Bowtruckles and, as Miss Granger rightly says, they generally live in trees whose wood is of wand quality. Anybody know what they eat?"

"Wood lice," Hermione continued. "But Fairy eggs if they can get them."

"Good girl, take another five points. So whenever you need leaves or wood from a tree in which a Bowtruckle lodges, it is wise to have a gift of wood lice ready to distract or placate it. They may not look dangerous, but if angered they will gouge out human eyes with their fingers, which, as you can see, are very sharp and not at all desirable near the eyeballs. So if you'd like to gather closer, take a few wood lice and a Bowtruckle — I have enough here for one between three — you can study them more closely. I want a sketch from each of you with all body parts labeled by the end of the lesson."

Draco went to go retrieve a Bowtruckle for their small little group. Penelope reached into her bag and got out a piece of parchment, her quill, and some ink so she could sketch the creature. Draco brought it back — looking awfully smug, might Penelope add — and placed it onto the ground. Penelope began to draw on her parchment the shape of her Bowtruckle, but it was kind of hard to do because it kept moving.

"Oh, it's so cute," Daphne gushed. "Wait, I want one."

Penelope laughed. "I'll get you one for Christmas, Daph."

Draco glanced back at Potter's group before smirking and raising his voice. "Yes. Father was talking to the Minister just a couple of days ago, you know, and it sounds as though the Ministry's really determined to crack down on substandard teaching in this place. So even if that overgrown moron does show up again, he'll probably be sent packing straight away."

Penelope rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Draco, shut up."

"OUCH!" Potter suddenly shouted.

Penelope jumped, her eyes wide as she looked over. Potter had two cuts on his hand and had dropped the Bowtruckle. Crabbe and Goyle, who had been chuckling over the idea of Hagrid being sacked, laughed even harder as the Bowtruckle ran off towards the forest.

"Really?" Penelope demanded, looking right at Draco. "You just had to do that, didn't you?"

Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "What's got you so bitchy with me lately?"

"It's because you don't know when to keep your mouth shut." The bell then echoed distantly over the ground, and Penelope rolled up her sketch before standing up. "Talk to me when you've learned to be nice to people."

She slung her bag on her shoulder and stalked off towards the castle. Penelope had Transfiguration and now with the rest of the Slytherins, but she really didn't want to sit by Draco or Pansy or any of them now. She then heard footsteps running behind her, and she looked back to see Daphne approaching her side.

"Penny, you have to be careful," Daphne told her. "His father—"

"Will hear about this?" Penelope finished, her eyebrow raised. "Sorry Daph, but I don't really give a fuck what his father thinks."

And that was true. Because, after all, Lucius Malfoy — just like Draco — was an annoying little bitch.

☆ 彡

if you see "black" anywhere on here just know penelope's talking about venus <3 she doesn't really call anyone by their first name unless she knows them

also PROTECT DAPHNE SHE'S SO CUTE WE LOVE DAPH

and I have officially declared that ron & penelope is not incest because the weasley part of the black family tree is not directly linked to the lestranges and even though arthur weasley's mom was a black she was a very distant relative of bellatrix. yes I did do my research thank you. so DON'T WORRY this isn't some alabama shit