Flint and Flame ━━ H. Potter

chapter five

( V )

In the short time since the night Potter and I went absolutely ballistic, I've come to just a few conclusions.

One: I officially cannot stand Professor Dolores Umbridge.

The woman, who has been dubbed Professor Umbitch by a rather sly group of Ravenclaws (who, by the way, can be even worse than some of us Slytherins when prompted!), has given us a steadily increasing workload. This would be fine if it was simply the reading- but it was not. Essays upon essays and annotations were driving me absolutely mad. And, to add on, her temper was becoming less and less predictable- nothing could prepare me for what would ruffle her feathers. Even worse, Potter has decided that every moment is a moment to fight with her. I thought he had left behind that urge in that room when he had literally smashed her head into pieces, but, I guess not. Regardless, that, and the lack of actually using defensive spells would hinder me from passing the class with my usual O. I blame the universe.

Two: my brother is one of the most frustrating people I have ever met.

He has yet to open up to me about what has been on his mind. But fine, if he wants to act like a child, I'll let him. I guess what I don't know can't hurt me.

Three: not all Gryffindor's are as insufferable as I thought.

I mean this lightly. Winnie, of course, is the one I mean most by that statement. She's the only one I can truly see without the influence of the Lion on her robe. Lately, though, due to a rather tumultuous night in the library, I've realized that not all of them are awful. Hermione Granger, for one- I can stand her. While her constant blabbering about some topic I have no idea makes me want to knock out her teeth, she is, genuinely, nice. Nicer to me than any other Gryffindor usually would be, anyway, considering my name. Harry Potter is... Potter. He nods in my direction as a hello and I do the same but that is to the extent our greetings go- not a word has been exchanged between the two of us since our manic night.

Ronald Weasley, on the other hand, is another story.

Although he's joined me and my cousin on multiple occasions for either a lunch or a study session in the library (where he only is there because Potter and Granger are, too, but that is just because of Winnie), he will not look at me. He will take every opportunity to say a rather snide comment about those who wear the green and silver tie or take a jab at whatever it is I say- it's like he's making it his life mission to make it known how much he despises my presence. He's made it quite clear that he does not want anything to do with me, and neither do I.

Because of this, I shake my head fervently when Winnie pops the question.

"No, absolutely not!"

"Oh, come on! Don't tell me you have better things to do," she argues with me, ignoring the roll of my eyes I give her in reply. I lean back into my seat, taking a large sip of my butterbeer. I sigh in relief, allowing the hot drink to warm my freezing body- the autumn air has slowly trickled into the cold, crisp winter.

"I have homework," I tell her, cupping my cup with both hands to feel the heat.

"I don't want to go by myself! It's one Saturday out of the rest of your life, Cordelia," Winnie whines, setting down her own drink. I see a marshmallow float to the top and briefly wish I had gotten a hot cocoa myself.

"Then don't go if you don't feel comfortable," I retort, setting my class down on the table with a satisfying clink. Winnie huffls loudly. "I'm not going."