Poison Ivy [Sirius Black]

IVY AND THE TRAITOR'S ASHES

ＳＥＶＥＮＴＥＥＮ

𝕚𝕧𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕥𝕠𝕣'𝕤 𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕤

      BY THE END OF THE FIRST WEEK of school, it became common to slip spiders in Ivy's things. She'd walk to class, open her book bag to get ready for Magical history with perhaps the most boring ghost in the entire world. Inside, she dug her hand in, only to retract when she spotted the first one on the binding of her magical history text.

      Ivy might have left one up to coincidence, but then she saw another and another. Ivy didn't have to look up to know it had been Travers and Black who had done it. She didn't have to look up to know their group was watching her with apt amusement. Ivy cleared any surprise on her face, cleared herself of all emotion, refused to make a scene by grabbing her wand.

      Instead, she willed the spiders to be still, pictured their limbs freezing in their place, staring with intense focus. She nearly thought it wouldn't work, but they stopped crawling over her book, and she lifted it out of her bag, watching as they began to move again, out of her bag that was tipped over the side of her desk.

       There had to be at least fifty of them, and they all went underneath her desk, and she didn't look away from them as she slid the chair out from under. She placed her textbook onto the surface of her desk and sat down, opening the book. She had read ahead on the lesson plan, and by now she could likely teach it.

      Binns walked in through the wall, sliding right through it with a look so dispassionate that it was a wonder how his cause of death wasn't the droll of his own voice.

      "I will now hand back the essays," Binns said, gliding over the ground from underneath him. Everyone had been so furious to have been assigned an essay on the second day of class, and they all looked irritated by the mention of it. His TA was a rather bored-looking fourth-year student who was wasting her free period for such a useless reason.

       With Binns being a ghost who couldn't touch anything, the aid of someone who could, was essential. Ivy would just never dedicate her time to something so unrewarding. The TA waved her wand with a quick spell, and the essays all began to pass out to the respective students.