WHEN LIFE GIVES YOU PUMPKINS , james potter

━ twenty. transfiguration troubles

CHAPTER TWENTY:
- transfiguration troubles -
1977

MADELINE'S USUAL MORNING WORK OUT ended with James hovering over her on his broomstick trying to make conversation and reminding her that tardiness was not acceptable in "his classroom". Madeline bat-bogey hexed him off his broom and reminded him who was really in charge here. James had flushed at the hooting of his quidditch team, mumbling something about embarrassing him in front of his friend, and the two planned to meet up during their study hall after lunch.

Lily and her friends walked Madeline to her first class once they saw she was alone. She mostly hung to the back as Sophie and Jane rambled on about a popular pop star having an affair with some quidditch player who was married to that one director who— Madeline honestly couldn't keep up so she stopped listening. Lily was talking to her at least, or trying to. She seemed distracted by something, randomly stopping in the middle of sentences and blushing out of nowhere. Marlene was quiet per usual as she lead the group through the halls, minding her own business and writing thoughtfully in a notebook every now and then.

     The rest of Madeline's day was spent in blissful solidarity— she couldn't remember the last time she'd had a couple hours to herself. She went to class and sat alone, finished her work early, and started on her homework for other classes. She caught up on reading her potions books in history and organized schedules for Lily's touring club after working for extra credit in Charms. For lunch she grabbed an apple, a sandwich, and a danish before she headed to the library for some peace and quiet.

     It was safe to say Madeline was having a great day. And it only got better upon seeing the new collection of latest addition potion-making textbooks. Her mind went into a frenzy and the only thing she could think about was how much powdered root of asphodel was added to the Draught of Living Death.

After grabbing an armful of books without shame, she marched her way to an empty desk and dove into a world of magic and potion-making, one of the few things she enjoyed reading about. Madeline was never much of a reader, especially for fiction, but there was something about putting ingredients together to make something that had always satisfied her. When it came to potions, she was a creator.

     Madeline was a quarter of the way into the textbook when someone sat across from her. She didn't care enough to look up and see who it was.

     "Winston," a voice whispered after a long pause.

Madeline sighed, finally looking up. "What do you want, Henderson?"

Thomas Henderson, Madeline's fellow prefect, looked worse than he normally did. His skin was pale, the bags under his eyes looked permanent, and he was so frail looking Madeline was afraid to touch him. Every once in a while his peeling, chapped lips would twitch and he seemed jittery like sitting still hurt. Madeline quite honestly wasn't sure how he was still functioning.

     "Look," his voice came out hoarse like he needed to cough, "I don't like you. Like at all." Madeline stared blankly at him. "But I need a favor."

     "A favor?" Madeline stayed stoic, waiting for him to continue.

     Thomas looked over his shoulder, lip still twitching, fingers tap-tap-taping. "You're in Slughorn's club, yeah?"

     "Maybe."

     Thomas rolled his eyes. "I know you're in Slughorn's Club."

     "Then why did you ask—?"

     "I don't have time for this, Winston this... this is important."

     "First of all you came and talked to me," scoffed Madeline, "and now you're basically telling me to shut up."