Year 3 at Hogwarts

Author's Note: There are grammatical and punctuation errors in the correspondence portion of this chapter that are intentional, dear readers, reflecting the maturity level and mood of the thirteen-year-old pen friends. They are entirely my own fault and not that of the lovely admins here at TPP.

Chapter 9: Year 3 at Hogwarts

1991 – 1992

2 September, 1991

George & Fred

10 September, 1991

Annie

1 October, 1991

George & Fred

14 October, 1991

Annie

Annie sat at the kitchen table, nervously picking at a sheet of notebook paper, pruning off the ragged edge bit by bit. She seemed nice enough yesterday when she rang to arrange to meet, she mused. But it was hard to read a person accurately over the phone, she reminded herself. Best not to have high hopes.

Jane Moruki had phoned yesterday afternoon, introducing herself as Annie's school-appointed tutor. Working with Annie was to be Jane's community service project this year, and Annie knew she was in no position to refuse her: Jane was free as well as mandatory.

Ugh, how humiliating, she thought. Annie hated being backed into a corner like this. But I'm stuck with her, no matter what.

She took a deep breath in an attempt to shake off the pessimistic turn her thoughts were taking. Even though life in general had taught her to prepare for the worst when dealing with the citizenry of Pottery St. Butthole – and she smiled to recall the nickname Fred and George had given this place – she knew it served no good purpose to have a bad attitude before the girl had even arrived. Don't want to be guilty of the same nasty habit as the rest of this miserable town, she reminded herself.

After all, Jane was new here this year and already had the reputation for being a star student. She was pretty and popular even though, or maybe because, she'd only lived here a little more than two months. Maybe this place hadn't contaminated her soul yet, Annie mused sarcastically.

Yikes! Annie cried silently. She was shocked by the dark depth of that last thought. Did she really think her neighbors and schoolmates were evil? Cruel and ignorant? Yes. Malicious? Maybe some of them....

She was saved from dissecting the idea further by the doorbell.

Annie heard her Gran answer the front door and greet the new girl. She could detect no accent in her voice, offering no clue as to where she'd grown up or been since, other than not here. Jane was perfectly polite to her Gran – and a perfect mystery to Annie. She had to admit her curiosity was piqued.

"Annie, Jane's here," Gran explained unnecessarily as she ushered their guest into the kitchen. "You're both welcome to anything you like to eat or drink. I'll just be out in the garden, if you need anything...."

Annie smiled tentatively at the tall, beautiful girl who had taken a seat at the table next to her. "Can I get you something?" she asked her politely. No harm in being civil, after all.

"No, thanks," Jane replied with a friendly smile of her own. "Your grandmother is sweet. I like her," she declared.

Annie nodded in agreement, immediately warming to this newcomer. Anyone who likes Gran can't be completely bad, she reckoned. To her delighted surprise, Jane seemed warm and genuine – traits in short supply at school, as far as Annie had found.

Jane propped her chin in her hand and gazed at Annie with curiosity. "So, Annie Jones... what am I doing here?" Jane asked pointedly, but not in an unfriendly way. Almost like she was teasing. But this was the friendly sort of teasing – the kind Annie enjoyed, like Fred and George would do. Not the kind she usually encountered from her peers.

"Beg pardon?" asked Annie, perplexed.

"You're not stupid, that much is obvious. You ask clever questions and give decent answers. I've seen you in Stratford's class, remember?"

"Oh, right." Annie had seen the older girl her in the science class, working quietly in a corner by herself. "What is it you're doing in there, anyway?"

"Independent study project," Jane said, waving her hand dismissively, as if her impressive accomplishment wasn't important at the moment. "I don't get it – you clearly understand the material, better than a lot of the dunderheads in there with you, I'll wager. How is it you can be failing this class?"

Annie blushed with the compliments. She had asked herself the same question quite often lately. "I dunno, really."

"Do you have trouble with taking exams? Do you get all anxious or something?" Jane asked with concern.

"No," replied Annie, shaking her head. Exams were one thing that never really bothered Annie at school. Nearly everything else, on the other hand....

"May I see your last exam?" Jane asked, holding out her hand expectantly.

"Sure," said Annie, digging it out of a folder and handing it over.

Jane spent several minutes perusing Annie's last train wreck of an exam. She began shaking her head slightly, pursing her lips. She then flipped to the essay section and began reading what Annie had written. "What an idiot..." she mumbled.

Annie sighed dejectedly. Maybe Jane had been wrong about her and no longer thought she was so clever after all.

"Oh, no, I didn't mean you, Annie!" Jane rushed to explain, noticing her quiet sigh. "This is the most poorly written test I've ever seen. With any decent professor, you could argue for at least partial credit for every question you got wrong. And your writing style is clear and concise. But Stratford's such an arse!" Jane rolled her eyes.

Annie's mouth dropped open. Jane had just echoed her thoughts about the test exactly. A fifth year honor student was telling her she was right and the professor was wrong!

"Look, if you want my advice..." Jane offered.

Annie nodded eagerly, keenly interested in what Jane would have to say.

"You don't need my help with the material, that's obvious. But you since you have to do your penance anyway...."

What an interesting choice of words, Annie thought. She had viewed the tutoring sessions as a sort of punishment, herself. She smirked and nodded again in understanding.

"And I need this volunteer tutoring assignment for my service requirement, so why don't we make the best of it? Plus, I like you, Annie Jones," she added with a smile and a wink. "So how about this: I'll keep coming here twice a week, but instead of wasting time reviewing what you already understand, I'll teach you the fine art of academic bullshitting. That's probably the only skill you're lacking at this point, frankly. But I'll be honest with you – it won't look good for either of us if you continue to balls-up the exams, so you have to promise me you'll try to do better. Do we have a deal?"

Annie nodded and smiled. She was really starting to like this girl and her no-nonsense approach. "What do you mean, 'The art of academic bullshitting?'" she asked.

Jane laughed. "A little trick my mother taught me," she explained. "Here, look.... Take this question you missed, for instance. It was a trick...."

"I knew it!" exclaimed Annie.

Jane nodded. "And you fell for it," she chided. "The answer you gave isn't technically wrong – in fact, it would be perfectly acceptable in most other classes."

"So, why did I get it wrong?" Annie interrupted with a whine.

"It's all in the wording. Take a look at B," she instructed.

Annie reread the multiple choice answer. "It says the same thing as D, really," she argued.

"I know," Jane agreed. "But B contains one of Stratford's favorite pet phrases, see? I'll bet you even have it written in your notes, he repeats it so often. That's why B is the right answer in this situation."

"But that's bullshit! They're both right!" Annie argued.

"That's exactly my point," explained Jane.

Annie rolled her eyes. "Why should I kiss Stratford's arse for a grade?" she cried. It infuriated Annie to encounter unfair people and practices, and she never resisted a chance to call them out on it, the bloody hypocrites!

"And there's your problem, right there. You have to ask yourself, Annie, if it's really worth it," Jane said in a kind voice.

"Huh?"

"Is it worth your time and effort, all this pain and suffering, to argue with a great gasbag of an idiot like Stratford, who'll never change anyway? Yes, you're right about the answer on the exam, and you're right that he's a prick. But what good does it do to beat your head against a brick wall?"

"So, everyone should just let him get away with being a pompous jerk?" Annie asked in disbelief.

Jane shrugged.

"Some things are worth fighting for!" Annie cried. "When I see something that's... that's bullshit... then I'm bloody well going to say something about it! He shouldn't be allowed to get away with it!" she reiterated.

"You're absolutely right, Annie. Some things are important enough that one must never be willing to compromise. Other things, however... like a third-rate science teacher stuck teaching thirteen-year-olds in a dead-end job in a backwater of Devon – no offense intended – just aren't," argued Jane.

"So, you're saying I should just play the game," Annie replied, disgusted by the suggestion.

Jane shrugged once more. "Do what's right for you, Annie. But bear in mind that Stratford's a jerk who gets off on lording himself over students with no power to do anything about it. By taking the bait, you not only hobble yourself by giving him a chance to hurt you with a poor mark, you're giving him an ego boost as well by offering the challenge in the first place. I think of it more as choosing not to play the game."

"Oh. I hadn't thought of it that way before," Annie said, truly intrigued by Jane's way of looking at the situation.

"Don't give the arseholes of the world so much power over you, Annie," she said gently. "Don't let them stand in the way of doing something with your life, of getting the hell out of here. You want to go to university, right?"

Annie shrugged. "Haven't really thought about it much. Gran wants me to go, but I'm not sure. I'm not really the school-type."

"Well, what is it you want to do with your life, then?" Jane sounded genuinely interested, once again taking Annie by surprise. "You don't strike me as the type who plans to hitch herself to one of these idiots here at school. Surely you've got more ambition – not to mention self-respect – than that?"

"Good God, no!" Annie cried. "Regardless of what you might have heard about me, I have absolutely zero interest in any of the boys in this town!"

Just because all her friends (and she used the term loosely in reference to Stephen and his herd) were boys, all the rest of the students at school assumed Annie was... well... that she had very loose morals, to put it politely. Rumors about her had been circulating like wildfire lately. She might not have understood every one of the fresh comments she'd been hearing at school, but that hadn't stopped her from shutting the mouths that uttered them.

"Good! And for your information, I never listen to idle gossip. I mean, consider the source!" Jane exclaimed, rolling her eyes for effect.

Annie beamed an enormous grin at Jane. She was an angel – that much was clear – sent to Annie in her darkest hour, for this term had been turning into exactly that. Here was a smart, decent, friendly young woman, two years ahead of Annie at school, who was willing to see past all the meaningless crap the rest of the people in this town weren't and give her a chance to be herself. And Jane lived here year 'round! How could Annie be so lucky?

"Are you sure you don't want a biscuit or something?" Annie chuckled, delighted with the serendipitous change in her fortune.

"Only if you have one, too," Jane said with a smile. "And then it's back to work. We'll go over this exam for starters and study where you went wrong. I promise with my help, you'll do better next time!"

9 November, 1991

P.S. It's a Romanian dragon reservation, not a zoo. Dragons aren't really fit for cages. The flaming breath, you see.

1 December, 1991

Annie

26 December, 1991

George & Fred

13 January, 1992

Annie

1 February, 1992

George & Fred

13 February, 1992

Annie

1 March, 1992

George & Fred

Annie crouched down behind the car as Geoff picked the locked driver's side door open. "Why don't you just nick your mum's keys?" she whispered.

"Where's the thrill in that?" he retorted. "Anyway, she's out with her boyfriend tonight, so there're no keys to be stolen, are there?" Geoff yanked the door open and waved her inside.

Annie gave him a half-smile as she scooted into the front passenger seat, keeping her hood low around her face. She knew she was far too small to look old enough to drive, whereas Geoff was quite a bit taller, so he got the honors. He had been too chicken-shit to do it alone, though, so that explained her presence. If he got in trouble, he'd be taking her down with him, she was sure of that. That was, of course, if he didn't flat-out hang her out to dry in his stead.

They drove straight to Stephen's house to pick up the rest of the gang. Once there, Mike made her give up the front seat, claiming his long legs couldn't fit anywhere else, and forced her into the back seat with Stephen. She thought she caught a wink exchanged between them, but couldn't be sure – Mike was a blinker, almost to the point of it being a facial tic.

As they drove to a nearby town in search of adventure, Stephen was quite chatty with her. "I'm glad you came out with us tonight. You should join us more often."

"I'm usually busy," she explained, pleased that she didn't even need to lie much.

Between study sessions with Jane, her weekly shooting lessons at the firing range (which she looked forward to as the high point of her week), and taking care of all the housework for Gran, she had very little free time. Still, it was nice to be out tonight – even with these idiots for company – letting off a bit of steam for once. Jane was a great friend, but she didn't have much of a sense of adventure.

"Too risky," Jane had explained, shaking her head when Annie had once asked her to participate.

Annie had nodded eagerly in agreement. "That's the whole point, isn't it? Come on, live a little!" she urged in vain.

"That scarecrow business at Stratford's house was excellent," Stephen continued. "I knew it had to be you that did it! You're still the same old Annie, even though you're pretending to be a star student all the sudden. You don't fool me, you know."

She snorted derisively at his presumption. "You think you know me that well?"

"I bet I know you better than you think I do," he argued. "I know you're bored stiff hanging out with that swot all the time."

"You're not nearly as clever as you think you are," she laughed. But he did have a point: she missed having an outlet for mischief. As wonderful as Jane was, Annie sometimes felt almost caged in her presence.

To Annie's disappointment, Geoff pulled up in front of a liquor store. All the adventures this lot ever want to have anymore involve booze, she lamented. She had no real interest in the stuff. Not that she didn't enjoy a bit now and then– she just didn't approve of the volume of consumption they considered a prerequisite to a good time. Nor did she appreciate the method by which they counted on scoring it.

"C'mon, Annie. Time to get to work!" encouraged Geoff.

"Yeah, Annie. Make yourself useful," Mike urged. "There's a likely sod right there. Looks a bit hard up – oughta be easy enough for you."

"Sod off, every last one of you. I'm not doing it anymore," she snapped, refusing to budge.

"Forget it, chaps – she's a good girl now," Stephen taunted in response to her scowl. "Too good for the likes of us. You stay here then, Annie, and we'll take care of this...."

The three boys looked pointedly at each other, then slowly turned to open their doors.

Annie was startled and a bit pleased at the fact they gave in so easily. She turned to get out of the car as well – she didn't want to be left behind if they were all participating. Maybe they're finally starting to respect me after all?

She shut the door behind her and stepped out onto the street. As she turned to walk toward the curb, she heard all three other doors shut at once, then heard the clicks of the door locks. Three smugly smiling prats were waving at her from within.

Annie took a deep breath. The anger she felt building inside her was not directed toward the moronic, manipulative jerks in the car. It was for her own idiotic notion that they would ever give a damn about her. That they would ever see her as an equal. Talk about beating my head against a brick wall....

She began to think maybe she wanted a drink after all as she marched over to the store entrance: a good stiff belt might indeed help improve her mood.

She looked up at her quarry as she approached. He looks the part, she thought to herself. Well-greased, a bit scruffy, already leering. She smiled at him half-heartedly.

"Hello, dearie," he said, slurring his words.

"Hey. Mind buying some for my mates and me?" she asked awkwardly.

The drunk shrugged. "What's in it for me?"

"We'll pay you. You can keep the change," she offered.

He harrumphed but took her money and went inside the store. About ten minutes later, he came shuffling back out of the store carrying a large bottle.

Annie stepped up to him with her hand out. "Thanks, mate," she mumbled.

"There wasn't any change," he said, grabbing her hand instead of handing over the liquor. "You still owe me," he growled as he pulled her toward him.

Annie struggled to resist, but found him to be a stronger drunk than she expected. His grip was tight and beginning to hurt her wrist. And she was being inexorably pulled toward an alley behind the shop.

"Let go of me!" she demanded, digging her heels into the pavement and yanking backwards. Pain shot through her arm as she felt as if she'd nearly dislocated her shoulder, but was still caught in the steel trap of the pervert's grip.

He laughed darkly at her. "Quit struggling. I might drop the bottle. Your mates won't like it if you come back empty-handed."

"Hey! Get your hands off her, arsehole! She's mine," she heard Stephen's voice from a distance behind her. "Give her the bottle and get lost!"

She turned to glance toward the car, noting Stephen was marching quickly toward them. About effing time, she thought, heart racing.

"Or what?" the drunk snarled.

"Or the three of us are gonna kick your sorry arse!" Stephen shouted.

The man squinted in Stephen's direction, sizing up the threat. Annie felt his grip begin to loosen and took advantage of it, escaping him and quickly darting out of arm's reach.

"Let's kick his arse anyway, mate," offered Geoff, who was only standing halfway out of the car.

Mike was still fully inside. The bloody cowards, she thought.

Annie snatched the bottle from her attacker. She was tempted to break it over the drunk's head, but Stephen relieved her of the precious booty before she had the chance. He grabbed her arm as well and pulled her back toward their car.

"Let's go, mates," he said as he opened the rear door for her. "We got what we wanted. No harm done...."

Annie stood before the open door, looking at Stephen incredulously. No harm done!? Her wrist, elbow and shoulder were throbbing from the fight to get away from that creep. Not to mention her hands were shaking from the adrenaline still pumping through her system.

Stephen pushed her into the back seat, holding her head down like she was a criminal being taking into custody. He must have recognized the subsequent look on her face and steeled himself for the imminent attack. "Here, have a snort," he said, offering her the bottle first in an effort to stave it off. "You earned it."

She took the bottle from him, struggling to master the urge to deck him. He's not worth it.... None of them are worth it... she continually chanted silently in her head as she took a long pull. The alcohol burned her throat and empty stomach, but it was a preferable sensation to the combination of fury and self-loathing that was in there already. Not worth getting all riled up. What did you expect, anyway?

She turned to Stephen, who had taken the bottle back from her and was tossing back a swig himself. "What the hell did you mean back there when you said, 'She's mine?'" she asked him angrily, ignoring her own advice.

Stephen snorted, almost choking on the swallow. "I just saved your arse back there, sweetheart, and you wanna bitch at me about semantics?" he cried.

"Excuse me!?" she asked, dumbfounded. He was the reason her arse had been on the line in the first place, she reckoned. Did he really fancy himself a hero?

"Look, can we discuss this later?" he asked her, looking pointedly at Geoff and Mike in the front seat.

Annie reluctantly let the argument drop for the time being. In point of fact, she didn't care for squabbling in front of an audience, either; especially one which never sided with her anyway. She folded her arms across her chest and sat in silence for the duration of the short ride home, arm aching.

They pulled up to Geoff's house and snuck the booze into the garage, hoping that his mum would be none the wiser when she got home later that night. The fellows continued passing the bottle between them, but Annie was no longer interested and shook off the offer.

"What's the matter with you, now? You're not still on about that harmless old drunk, are you? Loosen up, why don't you?" chided Mike, blinking and holding the bottle out to her.

"Oh, the peer pressure is tearing me apart," she exclaimed mockingly. "I do so want to fit in with your herd of pathetic sheep!" she taunted with a derogatory smile.

They laughed like she had just made a particularly funny remark. Were they really so ignorant that they mistook an insult for a joke? she wondered.

Impatiently, she grabbed Stephen's arm and began to drag him away from his admirers. "C'mon, let's finish what we started in the car," she muttered.

As they stepped outside, she heard knowing chuckles from behind them and glimpsed Stephen smiling and winking at the other boys.

"What the hell was that?" she demanded angrily as the door shut behind them.

"What? Nothing, I swear!" he exclaimed defensively. He took her by the arm and began to pull her around toward the back of the garage.

"What's wrong with right here?" she asked, resisting him.

"You want them to see and hear us?" he retorted, knowing with confidence what her answer would be.

"Fine." Once they were out of sight of the door, she refused to go any further. "We need to talk," she started.

Stephen released her and leaned against the wall of the garage. "Okay. Talk, then."

"Why is it everyone thinks there's something going on between us?" she demanded.

Stephen shrugged, unable to fully quash a smug smile.

He was lying: that much was patently obvious. Annie fumed in frustration, but swallowed her anger and put her calmest metaphorical foot forward. "Please just be a decent human being for a change, instead of a massive git," she begged him.

Stephen's response was to smirk and reach out for her.

Annie's temper flared. Enraged, she swatted his hands away. She grabbed the lapels of his jacket, shoving him against the wall with a loud thump.

Stephen's smile grew even bigger. "You are sorta cute when you're pissed off," he teased her, wrapping his large hands over her much smaller fists.

Annie screeched in exasperation, letting go of him and stepping back out of reach. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples as if she had a throbbing headache.

"Okay, already," he offered, giving in. "Look, it's not my fault. I didn't start the rumor. I think it started last fall when you pissed off Tom," he explained.

"So, you're telling me Tom's been spreading these lies? For revenge? Because I slapped him?" she asked in disbelief.

"Well, maybe not just that. I think he's a bit jealous of you and me," he replied.

Annie stared at him in shock.

"Of our friendship," he added hastily.

Annie shook her head slowly. How could anyone be jealous of what passed for friendship with Stephen? What was there to be envious of? That couldn't be the whole story....

"What about you?" she demanded.

"What about me? I told you already I didn't start it!" Stephen whined.

"You obviously knew about the rumor, as well as who was responsible for it. Did you ever do anything to stop him?"

Stephen shrugged. "In my experience, the best thing to do is ignore something like this. It'll all blow over after a while..."

"It's been more than six months. I don't think your strategy is working," Annie snapped.

"What can I do?" he asked, feigning helplessness.

"Start denying it!" she cried vehemently. "Start telling people there's nothing happening between you and me! Please!"

"Why do you care what other people think, anyway? I thought you were above all that?" he chided her.

"Because it's not true and it's getting out of hand! Stephen, people think... people are saying that we... have done it," she mumbled uncomfortably.

"Really?" he asked, sounding surprised and rather pleased.

"You idiot!" she hissed, barely controlling the urge to punch him in the face. "If this ever got back to my Gran, it would... it would break her heart! If you won't do it for me, as a friend, then please do it for her. She doesn't deserve this!" she pleaded, her eyes searching his face for some shred of chivalry.

Stephen looked at her with some small stirring of pity. She loves that old lady, for whatever reason, he mused. And he had never really meant to hurt Annie by encouraging the rumor – both its creation last summer and its persistence throughout the school year. He hadn't thought much beyond himself, to be honest.

And he could see now that it had hurt Annie. Her reputation had been falsely ruined all because he thought it would reflect positively on his own. It was the paradoxical double-standard of modern sexual mores: a promiscuous girl was a whore, but a promiscuous boy was a chap to be admired. And what had he gotten for his trouble? Far from bringing her within reach of making it actually come true, it had driven her further away from him.

"I'll see what I can do," he offered reluctantly.

"Thank you," she replied tersely. "I would certainly appreciate whatever effort you can spare," she added sarcastically.

Stephen bristled at her smart attitude. He had liked it much better when she was pleading with him a moment ago. He was already starting to regret offering to help her out. Maybe it would be too little, too late, anyway.

"You wanna go back in?" he asked.

"Not really. I think I'll just go home," she said.

He could tell she was still pissed off, but was cooling down all the same, now that he had promised her what she wanted. Maybe he might still have some leverage.... Maybe out of gratitude, she might offer up some small concession....

"C'mon, I'll drive you," he offered, taking her hand. It's dark, and she shouldn't be walking alone, he reckoned, even if it was only a short way to her house. Not to mention it would make him feel better about himself to play the valiant protector for a bit.

"Okay," she agreed somewhat reluctantly. It was starting to mist, after all, and she shivered a little.

He led her around the garage again, poking his head in the door to let the others know he was taking Annie home, and that he'd be back soon.

"Sure, mate," slurred Geoff, well into the bottle by now. "I read you loud and clear!"

Annie heard Mike guffaw in the background. "Things were gettin' a bit rough out there, were they?" he taunted.

Stephen chuckled in response. Annie yanked her hand out of his and gave his shoulder a shove, knocking him into the doorframe.

"Erm, no. It's not like that. You guys know Annie's not like that," he argued weakly. "I'll be back in ten minutes, tops. So save some o' that bottle for me, you sods."

He turned around to see Annie glaring daggers at him, arms crossed, chin jutting out. "I changed my mind. I think I will walk after all. You stay here with your mates," she spat, turning away.

"Annie, don't be angry," he said, taking a step after her.

But she had already turned her back and started running now. He knew there was no chance to catch up – she could easily beat every one of them in a foot race and had proven it time after time. Disappointed, he turned back to the garage.

"Thanks a lot, you sorry gits," he greeted them gruffly.

"Woman troubles, mate?" laughed Mike. "Can't live with 'em, can leave 'em by the side of the road...."

"Come and drown your sorrows with us!" cried Geoff, patting the seat beside him.

1 April, 1992

Annie

13 May, 1992

George & Fred

21 May, 1992

Annie

7 June, 1992

George & Fred