Chapter One:

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or anything beautifully crafted by the hands of J.K. Rowling.

A Bored Student's Pastime

If Mercy was completely honest with herself, she did not belong here. She was at Hogwarts, the best, well in Mercy's case, the only school in the United Kingdom worth going to. But why was Hogwarts 'the best' school? Because it was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: a boarding school where youngsters are trained to develop their magical abilities. As Mercy attends this school, one can make the very correct assumption that she is a witch. Therefore, one would assume Mercy did in fact belong at a school that helps to train young witches and wizards. But that subject is not currently under debate.

In fact, it is the subject itself. More specifically, Mercy was sitting at a desk in the morning period of Muggle Studies. One would consider this an odd thing, if one knew anything about our student in question. Mercy herself was what many of her classmates may call Muggleborn. If hyphenated, it becomes Muggle-born, which would indicate someone born from Muggles. And Muggle here means a person without magical powers. Which is what Mercy was: the only magical child of Esteban and Claribel Baines, her non-wizard parents. Which meant Mercy was raised in a household without magic and was all too clear on how Muggles lived their day to day lives. Muggle Studies was entirely targeted toward students who didn't understand how the world functions without magic. Surely, and by all rights, Mercedes Baines did not belong there. So why was she there?

The answer to that question was sharing her desk in the classroom. Oakley Fortescue, Mercy's best mate. Oakley was not Muggleborn; in fact, her father's side of the family could trace their magical lineage back to Dexter Fortescue, a former headmaster of Hogwarts, and even further than that. Oakley's mother had been an Ollivander, and equally ancient line of wizards specializing in wand working. Oakley was the type of student that the Muggle Studies class was intended for, and under her uncle's insistence that the class had value and her mother's insistence that she obey, Oakley had signed up the year before.

And so, on this morning in the second week of their fourth year in school, the two girls sat at their joint desk staring with piqued interest at the blackboard, where Professor Plunkett, Muggle Studies' young and passionate teacher, was etching lamps on the board and babbling about the innovations of electricity. Alas, that statement too was false. For Mercy was in fact not paying attention at all. She was instead far more interested in what was going on outside the classroom window.

She could see another part of Hogwarts Castle, and was staring at a suit of armor when a piece of paper entered her peripheral vision. She removed her chin from her hand where it had been resting to glance down at the tabletop, where a yellowed piece of parchment was slipped onto her side. She looked down at the loopy writing that had been scratched on it. 'Not paying attention I see? It's a terrible shame, I find these lamps simply fascinating.' Mercy felt her mouth curl in amusement at Oakley's blatant sarcasm. To be fair, there were some days that this class was vaguely interesting. Professor Plunkett himself was not Muggleborn. He had merely been intrigued by muggle culture and wanted to share it with the student body. However, he sometimes had fixations on weird objects, such as rubber ducks, seeming to think that they were much more important to Muggle lives than they were. She stole a glance over at her mate. Oakley's dark eyes were set staring at the board, and Mercy could see the boredom etched on her charming face.

Appearance wise the two could not have been more different. Oakley was taller as well as leaner in build, but that was still under development. Her hair was pin straight, brown to the point it was almost black, and fell well past her shoulders. Her tanned face was thin and her cheekbones prominent, and she had full lips that many of their peers, including Mercy, would kill for. Mercy was shorter, and to her dismay, her figure had become fuller over the summer. Her face was pale and more appealing in a bonny way, with full cheeks sprinkled liberally with freckles, a wide nose also heavily freckled, but lips much thinner than Oakley's. And her hair if unrestrained, as it was that day, fell in a cascade with no law or order of tight, fiery curls that reached her midback.

She brushed a lock of it out of her cornflower eyes, as she stooped to scratch her response. 'Do I ever? It's not like we don't have at least one lamp in every room of my house' She slid the paper to the middle of the desk for Oakley.

Mercy looked back at the parchment where Oakley had etched her response. 'We don't all have that privilege. Makes me wonder why you even take this class in the first place.' Mercy rolled her eyes. Oakley had practically thrown a fit when Mercy had shown disinterest in taking the class. Mercy's presence there was an appeasement to Oakley for Mercy wanting to take the one on Magical Creatures.

'Something about us both being faced with crippling loneliness if we were separated. But I honestly can't seem to match this kind of enthusiasm when plugging in a lamp.'

Mercy didn't even bother to look up from the paper as Oakley immediately began her response. 'You came over to the dark side to be with me? Bless you, child. Bless you'

Mercy looked back at Oakley, who shot over a cheeky grin. She wrinkled her nose before responding. 'It's hardly the dark side. Muggles do have all the lamps after all.' As Oakley read the horrible joke, her mouth shifted into mock disgust, and Mercy felt a swift pain on the front of her left shin as Oakley aimed a kick at her leg underneath the table.

Mercy hissed in pain. "Ouch, Oaks!" She whispered fiercely, as Oakley smirked.

"Was that a question, Miss Baines?" Mercy's eyes widened as she looked back into the face of her Professor, who was staring at her with a look of annoyance. There was a ripple of quiet giggles at her misfortune.

She bit her the inside of her lip as she felt her cheeks reddening at the attention. "No, sir." He sent her a piercing stare for a couple of seconds, before turning back to the board and continuing his lecture.

"As you see here, the chord transfers the current to the lamp which is what allows the bulb to glow."

She let out a puff of air, this wasn't anything she hadn't already known. She tugged the parchment toward her again. 'A bad joke hardly warrants this kind of abuse'

Oakley smirked. 'you had it coming.' She etched. Mercy rolled her eyes and made to just go back to pretending to pay attention when she saw Oakley had added to her statement. 'Can we skive of COMC? I don't really feel like losing a limb today.'

Mercy immediately shook her head. She really enjoyed that class, finding the creatures that they studied extremely interesting. It was also only the second week of class, and skipping this early in the semester nearly always ended in a detention. She merely wrote the word 'No' on the parchment.

Oakley fake pouted. 'But I don't want to die yet! I'm only 14! I haven't lived!' Mercy shook her head. Oakley always had a flare for the dramatic.

'Hush, we'd just end up in detention. But we can go to the library after dinner'

Oakley dramatically collapsed onto the desk and Mercy had to stifle a laugh at the look of disgust that returned to her face. Unfortunately, the movement and sound had attracted Plunkett's attention again. His eyes narrowed in their direction, a second, but this time silent warning to behave themselves. Mercy looked down at the table again, biting her lip. After the professor had moved again back into his lecture, Oakley penned her response.

'Ew. Not the library.'

Now Mercy might have let that go on normal circumstances. She didn't mind the library, finding the quiet atmosphere a good place to get essays done when working by herself. Oakley found the environment disgraceful, as books were apparently the greatest waste of space since rocks. But over the course of this boring class and stemming from something she had seen out the window, Mercy had an idea that she wanted to research to see if it was practical. 'Oh, come now, I thought you would enjoy some general mayhem'

Oakley's posture straightened slowly. She looked over to meet Mercy's eyes, raising an eyebrow as if trying to size up whether Mercy had an idea or if this was some sort of clever ruse to get her into a place she despised. She seemed to decide to trust the former, and with a sigh responded. 'I'm in if Charlie's in.'

Mercy leaned forward to peer at the boy who sat across the aisle on Oakley's side. There sat Charlie, scratching diligently on his parchment, a hand resting in his honey colored hair. Charlie Fawley was the third piece of their trio. Over the summer, he had noted to Mercy with satisfaction that her had finally gained two inches on Oakley, but he was still built as you'd expect a quiet and bookish boy to be. Not terribly thin, nor muscled, nor thick. His hand shifted from his thick hair to rest underneath his relatively flat nose, and obscuring his thoughtful frown. He wasn't looking toward her, and she didn't want to risk making noise to get his attention, as that would likely draw the eyes of Plunkett as well.

Mercy slipped her wand from her pocket. "Effingo Charta" She murmured, tapping the parchment on her table and flicking it toward a blank sheet. The note Oakley had been passed over copied neatly onto the blank sheet. "Convenio" she whispered again, tapping both sheets. Testing to see if it had worked, she drew a tiny bird on the corner of their sheet and with satisfaction she saw it appear on the other as well. Stowing her wand, she quietly crumpled up the piece of parchment under her desk. She waited til Plunkett was turned around and discretely chucked it at his head.

The paper hit its mark and bounced off the side of his heart shaped face and onto his desk. He looked over at her slowly, his dark lashed, topaz eyes unamused. She smirked at him and mimed for him to unfold the paper. He rolled his eyes, but did so nonetheless. With a sigh, his eyes darted over the page. It appeared he had reached the bottom when he shot them a look of disapproval. He reached for his quill and Mercy watched as his neat and deliberate script filtered onto their page.

'Can you leave me out of this?' Oakley let out a soft snort.

'You don't have anything better to do' She wrote looking over toward him. Mercy wrote nothing but look over and subtly stuck out her bottom lip. Charlie stared back, looking unimpressed. After a few moments, he broke the eye contact with sigh and wrote. 'Fine. But you can't skip class without me again.'

Mercy grinned, and responded. 'I've already told her we won't.' Charlie nodded, but folded the paper in half and stuck it in his book, signaling he was going back to class. But Oakley elbowed her. "Come on! I hate that class and it'd be funny if we left him alone." She whispered quietly.

Mercy shook her head. Whether Oakley wanted to join her or not, she was going. "Then maybe you should have dropped it." She said quietly.

Oakley rolled her eyes, "That's easy for you to say." Her response must have been a bit too loud, and a piece of chalk came flying in their direction. Oakley barely managed to dodge it as it came flying at her face. Professor Plunkett was glaring, his wand out.

"Miss Fortescue, pay attention or you and Miss Baines will both see me after class." He said sternly, summoning the pieces of chalk back to his hand and repairing them.

"Sorry, Professor," They said in tandem.

"As I was saying, most Muggle homes have several pair of outlets in every room. In order to-"

Mercy sighed, as she sank back into ignoring the professor and boredom for the rest of the period.

The Dangers of Fire Crabs

Let it be known, Oakley had tried to skip Care of Magical Creatures, but her unnecessarily stubborn friends had refused to 'enable bad habits'. She rubbed the fabric gingerly through her school robes. She'd gotten on the bad side of a fire crab in class, and now had a bad burn on her forearm. It hadn't taken Madam Pomfrey long to bandage the burn, but Professor Kettleburn had insisted that both Charlie and Mercy stay in class, as she wasn't hurt badly enough to need an escort. She didn't much care for that peg-legged man. Which is why she found herself walking alone to dinner from the hospital wing with a heavily bandaged left arm.

She entered the huge doors of the Great Hall to find dinner in full swing. She was a bit later than people tended to be, but it wasn't like there was a time they HAD to be at dinner since it wasn't a feast. Looking down the Gryffindor table she immediately saw Mercy's distinct red mane and Charlie's honey curls together on one side of the bench and an empty spot directly across from them. She walked down the length of the table, Mercy cut off from what she was saying to Charlie when she saw Oakley walk up.

"Oaks! How bad was it? Did you-" Mercy looked a tiny bit flustered, and flustered Mercy meant babbling, so Oakley rolled her eyes and cut her off.

"Hey, calm down. I'm fine. I've just made a bit of a fool of myself." She slid into the bench and began grabbing food as Charlie swallowed a rather large mouthful of mashed potatoes before speaking.

"A bit of a fool? That's the understatement of the week." Oakley in an ultimate display of maturity stuck her tongue out at him. He raised both his eyebrows with a smirk. "Anyways, what in the name of Merlin would possess you to poke a fire crab with a stick?"

Oakley had almost hoped that no one would bring it up, but leave it to Charlie to call her out in her more impulsive moments. "I dunno…" She said slowly, buttering her roll. "Maybe I was trying to see if he was awake."

Mercy raised an eyebrow. "By poking it in the arse?"

Oakley laughed. "Alright, alright. I know it was stupid."

Mercy let out a dry chuckle. "You can say that again."

"That again."

Mercy blinked and put her clasped hands in front of her mouth. There was a moment of silence as she stared at Oakley. "I am sorry." She said finally. "I tried but I can't bring myself to laugh." Charlie snorted. Oakley exhaled with a grin before grabbing a spoonful of peas.

"Well you didn't miss much. Kettleburn ended up deducted some points 'cause James and Sirius didn't want you upstaging them or something." Charlie rolled his eyes. "Those idiots."

"Yeah, well they should consider themselves upstaged. I got the mark to prove it," Oakley said, patting her dominant arm. It was going to be annoying to do much of anything until it had healed. Not that she had much to do except writing and… flying. "Bloody hell, Quidditch try-outs are this weekend."

Charlie wiped his face with a napkin, furrowing his brow. "What, you were serious about that?"

Oakley tsked. "Of course I was, my dad had me flying as soon as he was sure I could hold onto a broom."

"But I thought you said your grandmother didn't like you flying." He had kept his voice quiet, his eyes flickering at people around them. Oakley was grateful for the discretion, but not as much for the reminder. She had nearly forgotten about Gran's tirade that flying wasn't ladylike. Well, her opinion was only relevant if she made the team.

"I'll cross that bridge when it comes." She said. Charlie looked as though he wanted to argue, but Oakley addressed Mercy instead. "Merce, you're in, right?"

But it looked like Mercy wasn't paying attention, instead had focused a lingering stare at something. She followed her gaze. A group of four boys were sitting in a group together down the table. They were Charlie's dorm mates and the other boys in their year. They all seemed to be happily carrying on.

Sirius Black, probably the most attractive of the group had leaned toward a sixth-year girl. He said something, with a quick wink of his grey eyes. Oakley saw her turn away giggling, her face flushing. Sirius tossed his long black hair with a casual flick before turning back to the others. At his side sat Peter Pettigrew, who was, not unexpectedly, eating. Peter himself was more of a quiet observer of what was going on, not saying much, his watery blue eyes focused on the boy opposite him at the table. James Potter. Now James had an excited glint in his hazel eyes. He leaned forward and said something with a large grin on his face. When his companions laughed, he ruffled his hair and accidently knocked his square glasses askew.

And next to James sat Remus, probably the sole reason Mercy had been staring in the first place. He was smiling, but Oakley noted he looked tired. Dark circles rested under his brown eyes and his usually neat, sandy hair was messier than usual. But tired was a pretty typical thing to expect from Remus, who otherwise looked perfectly fine. Except for the long scar that stretched jaggedly from beneath his left eye to the side of his face below his right ear.

Though the scar wasn't anything new. It had been there for about two years. There were rumors about how it happened, something about those boys sneaking out after curfew into the forest and coming across something. Oakley found the scar unsettling, though she wasn't entirely sure why. She looked back at her best friend, whose mouth was slightly parted in a small smile. Oakley couldn't help but grin. Mercy was crushing… hard. But there were more important things to discuss at that moment.

So, Oakley began poking her with the handle of her butter knife. Mercy batted the knife away feebly while her eyes lingered a moment longer. "What?" She said exasperated.

"Quidditch tryouts! You're trying out with me, right?" She repeated.

Mercy looked at one of the candles floating above the table thoughtfully. "Well, Madam Hooch did say I'm flying well, so I guess I might as well give it a go…" Oakley nodded. She and Mercy were among a small group of upperclassmen who had selected flying as their third elective. But in the flying class for the upper classmen the focus was on precision and Madam Hooch often had them scrimmage. "Oaks, what position were you going for?"

"Keeper" She answered without hesitation.

Mercy smiled faintly. "Ah sorry, that was a silly question."

Oakley grinned. She fondly remembered the stories her dad told about his time as a keeper for Hufflepuff. He wouldn't show her how to hold the beaters bat even though she'd really wanted to learn. "Anyways, you should go for seeking Merce. Your track record for throwing the quaffle in the hoops is really bad." She said, remembering how one of her shots had beamed the scrimmaging keeper right in the face.

Mercy's eyes flew back to her face and she wrinkled her nose. "Hey, I grew up playing football. It's not like we could use our hands."

Oakley smirked, and took a clumsy bite of food with her right hand. She decided that it was better to eat with her left even if the friction made her arm uncomfortable. "I wish we had flying before the tryouts on Saturday. I want to see how I fare with my arm all screwed up. How do you people even do things right handed?"

"The same as you do with your left Oaks" Charlie said matter-of-factly. He leaned to rest his face on his hand. "Pity we can't all be ambidextrous."

"I'd give my left arm to be ambidextrous." Mercy said. Oakley narrowed her eyes at the now cheekily grinning Mercy. She scooped up a pile of peas and flung them at her face, but Mercy reacted quickly. Since she ducked, the projectiles flew right into the back of a tall Ravenclaw boy. He turned around, with an expression of annoyance.

"Sorry…" Oakley muttered sheepishly at him. He rolled his eyes and turned back around. Oakley's eyes lingered on his back guiltily for a second longer, before Charlie had asked her a question.

"Oaks, you should bring your History of Magic Essay to the library." Oakley groaned. They had an essay about the witch burnings due tomorrow, but she hadn't done the summer reading yet.

"Ugh, I don't want to. Make Mercy do it." She whined.

"I've already done it." Mercy said smugly. Oakley glared at her expression and quickly loaded another spoon of peas. Mercy was unable to dodge quickly enough and soon there were several green spheres in her hair.

"Oakley! Why!?" Mercy exclaimed, running a hand through her hair trying to knock the round pods out. Oakley grinned in satisfaction as some of them gave her difficulty. "You know what? I was going to give you my essay in case you wanted to look at it, but then you threw the peas."

Oakley groaned before glancing back at the other Gryffindor boys. A small smile graced her lips. If Mercy wouldn't hand it over willingly, she had no choice. Coercion, of a certain conversation they'd had about Remus. "If you don't hand it over, I'll tell him what you said the other day."

Mercy looked confused, "What are you talking about…?" but then her face flushed bright red. Her eyes flickered between her and Remus. "You don't mean… you wouldn't…" She whispered.

Oakley grinned. Of course she wouldn't but she didn't think Mercy would be willing to call that bluff. "Wanna bet?"

Charlie was looking between the two of them confused. "Wait, what are we talking about?"

Mercy immediately reached into her bag to pull out a piece of parchment. She shoved it into Oakley's hand. "Not a word. I'll meet you two in the library." Oakley gripped the piece of paper triumphantly as Mercy practically fled, probably trying to avoid Charlie's interrogation.

Charlie stared intently as Oakley smugly took a bite of food. "You aren't going to tell me, are you?"

"Nope," She said, between bites. She looked at Charlie's empty plate. "I can meet you guys when I'm done. You don't have to sit here and watch me eat."

Charlie nodded and stood up. He slung his bag over his shoulder. "We'll probably be at a table in the back. And do us all a favor and walk in quietly this time. I still don't think I've recovered from Madam Pince's screeching."

"I make no such promises." She said with a grin. Charlie merely shook his head before stalking off. She sighed and let the smile slip off her face. Man, she was spending far too much time doing course work. It's like Charlie and Mercy thought they were at Hogwarts to learn or something.

It Pays to be Studious

When Charlie arrived in the library, he was unsurprised to find that he was the first of the three to arrive. Typical. He sat down at his favorite table in the back near the window that overlooked the grounds. It was a nice enough evening, the sun was inching closer to the lake, the blue of the sky starting to near the pink and oranges of sunset.

He pulled out his notes on electricity from Muggle Studies and a blank piece of paper. The notes needed to be reordered so that they made a bit more sense. He read them over, rubbing his quill against his lips. Maybe he should send an owl to his mum about it; being a Muggle, she could probably explain much more clearly than Plunkett had.

Hardly twenty minutes had passed before he was joined by, to his surprise, Oakley.

"I would have thought Mercy would have beaten you here," he whispered softly as Oakley sat down.

She slid her fringe out of her eyes. "Well, she probably got distracted by something." Her mouth had curved in an odd smirk. Charlie stared at her. What was she grinning about? Oakley laid out her partially complete History of Magic essay and Mercy's side by side in front of her. She looked up at Charlie's work, pausing a moment to read what he was working on. "Wait, why are you looking at that? We don't have Muggle Studies again til next week."

He shrugged. "Plunkett's going to give a test on it soon, so I thought I might as well have the material down." Oakley stared at him with an expression clearly meant to indicate she thought he was overachieving again and grabbed the newly written notes. After glancing over them, she pulled out her wand and two blank sheets of paper.

"Effingo Charta" She said, coping the thorough notes once and then repeated the incantation again to make two copies, presumably one for her and one for Mercy.

Charlie grabbed his notes back in annoyance, shooting Oakley an expression he hoped indicated he thought she was a lazy bum. "One of these days, I might not take notes just to see you two struggle to take your own."

Oakley chuckled. "You wouldn't know what to do with yourself if you didn't. Besides, Mercy's perfectly capable of taking notes"

Charlie sighed. She wasn't wrong. Mercy took her own notes for everything else anyways. Truthfully, Oakley was the only free-loader. He put his Muggle Studies stuff away and pulled out his own essay on witch burnings for History of Magic. He didn't have much left to go, just the conclusion. "Can I borrow Mercy's essay for a second?" Charlie asked, wanting to see how she wrapped everything up.

Oakley grinned again. "What, the great Charlie has stooped to the level of us cheating peons?"

Charlie glared at her. "I'm not copying, I just wanted to see how she ended hers" Oakley slid it over, still smiling teasingly. She could be so… obnoxious.

Charlie skimmed the paper. It was funny, whenever Mercy started writing her print was always small, neat, and deliberate. But as the essay went on, her handwriting started to slant and became messy as if her hand couldn't keep up with her flow of thoughts. It was still mostly legible though.

'On the off chance that Muggles were able to identify a real witch or wizard, attempting to burn them was utterly pointless because a simple Freezing Charm would easily protect them from any harm. This is excluding any cases that the witch or wizard in question was stripped of his or her wand and being unable to defend against the flames. In times such as this, it was-'

"What are you grinning about?" Oakley's whisper cut through the quiet like a knife.

"What?" He looked up at Oakley, who was staring at him the barest frown on her usually animated face. He wasn't aware he'd been grinning.

"You were smiling at Mercy's essay? What's so funny about it?"

He shrugged. "I dunno there was something about her handwriting I guess." Oakley stared at him longer. To the point her scrutiny was starting to make him uncomfortable. "What…?"

Oakley put her quill down and dramatically folded her hands on the table. "Charles." She said slowly.

"What." He whispered again, starting to feel annoyed.

She took a deep breath, "Do you like Mercy?"

Charlie felt his mouth open slightly, his cheeks burning. "Wha-! That's not… No, I don't."

Oakley's eyes began twinkling mischievously as she began to grin. "I think someone's got a good case of denial."

Charlie glared down at his essay. "You're delusional." He picked up his quill, trying to signal to her that this conversation was over.

"Oh, come on now, I know what crushing on someone looks like. And you've started showing the signs, mate. Stealing glances, grinning when you think about them. Whether you know it or not." Charlie looked back up at her and her infuriatingly smug expression. It was a challenge, she wanted him to prove her wrong.

He simply glared back at her. The claim itself was preposterous, how can you like someone without really knowing it? "What am I supposed to say to that? You're being ridiculous." Oakley opened her mouth to respond but didn't get the chance.

"Mr. Fawcett!" Charlie flinched at the sudden voice. He looked up to see the birdlike Madam Pince peering at them with sunken eyes from beyond the bookshelf. "Is there some sort of a problem?"

Charlie realized they must have been talking too loudly. He swallowed before speaking. "No ma'am. Oakley and I just had a disagreement." He looked over at Oakley and her sly grin and said pointedly, "But we're finished now."

"Good, Quiet down both of you or you will be removed from the library." With a sharp turn, she retreated. Charlie glared at Oakley again, before looking down at his essay. For a few moments it was quiet, sans the sounds of scratching, whispers from other student, and the gentle crinkle of pages turning.

But it didn't last. In the peripherals of his vision, he saw Oakley look around as if seeing if Madam Pince was still hovering nearby. She leaned back toward Charlie before whispering, "Are you going to ask her out?"

Charlie rolled his eyes, and looked back up at her. Was she going to let this go?

Oakley seemed to sense his exasperation, and raised her hands as a sign of surrender. "Fine, fine. I'll stop." She sighed. "But just know, if you do like her, know that asking her out won't be an option if you wait too long."

Charlie looked back up. "What are you talking about?"

She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Well, just so you know. I think she's got her eye on someone else."

"Who?" The question flew out before Charlie really had time to consider what was just said. But he stared at Oakley

Oakley shook her head. "I really can't say. It'd be a betrayal of the best friend code."

"Whatever," he said dismissively. He put his quill back up to his lips trying to figure out how to wrap up his essay. But now his thoughts were preoccupied. Clearly, he hadn't been fully aware of it, but the thought of Mercy dating someone had triggered a strong response. But that could be a lot of things. She was one of his best friends after all. A swash of orange entered his vision and Charlie looked up to see Mercy swing around the corner.

"Hullo!" She whispered cheerily, flopping down in the seat across from him next to Oakley. "You two finished yet?"

Charlie gently shook his head. "Someone was being distracting," he said, glaring pointedly at Oakley.

She merely shrugged good naturedly. "Hey, you're the one who started with your Muggle Studies stuff. You could've done the essay before I got here." Charlie rolled his eyes. She wasn't wrong, but he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of him admitting it. "Speaking of…" Oakley slid one of the copies of Charlies notes toward Mercy.

She merely shrugged good naturedly. "Hey, you're the one who started with your Muggle Studies stuff. You could've done the essay before I got here." Charlie rolled his eyes. She wasn't wrong, but he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of him admitting it. "Speaking of…" Oakley slid one of the copies of Charlie's notes toward Mercy.

She leaned over them pushing a hand into her hair as it threatened to fall into her eyes. "Thorough as always, Char. But even you couldn't make these any less boring." She shoved the papers into her bag. "Most muggles don't bother to remember all this."

Charlie scribbled down the last few sentences of his essay. It wasn't a spectacular finish, but it was sufficient. "Well it's not like you find the class useful anyways, Merce."

Mercy laughed lightly. "I still can't get over that rubber duck thing last year." She cleared her throat and spoke in her poor approximation of Professor Plunkett. "Muggle's really are ingenious! Even without magic they find way to make hundreds of these bright beauties! Can anyone tell me their function?" She mimed, holding up a rubber duck.

Oakley giggled. "Mate, you should have seen the look on your face when that happened. It was almost funnier." Oakley crossed her arms and grinned wickedly. "I'm sorry Miss Baines, but you're not the one the school is paying to teach this class, are you?"

Charlie smirked, recalling what Mercy had responded with. "I'm surprised they pay you… uh, sir."

Mercy let out a good-natured groan. "Ah, I can't even believe I said that. Got detention for a week." She ran a hand down the side of her face.

Charlie chuckled softly. "You surprised us all."

She laughed. "Yes well, moving on pass how I'm probably his least favorite student." She pulled out a piece of parchment with a poorly executed drawing on it. Charlie turned his head to the side to try to see it head on in hopes that would make it clearer. It didn't. "Well I had an idea in class for a bit of fun." She gestured to the drawing proudly.

Oakley looked at Charlie, her face questioning. Charlie shrugged. "What is it that we're looking at?"

Mercy's smile faded as she looked between them and the drawing. "It's… It's Hogwarts."

"Oh, of course it is." Oakley said. "If you turn your head to the side and squint…"

Mercy wrinkled her nose and pulled the paper back toward her. "Oh hush, we all know I'm not an artist."

"Its… not terrible," Charlie said, trying not to be mean without being dishonest. Truly when you looked at it knowing it was the castle, the drawing made sense. He could see the huge window that was supposed to be the great hall, the inner courtyard, and the many towers of the school. But the tallest tower (presumably the astronomy one) had a weird shape he couldn't quite identify stretching from the window all the way to the ground. "What's that supposed to be?" He said, pointing at the blob.

Mercy grinned mischievously. "Well that's what I wanted to talk to you guys about."

Charlie had a sinking feeling in his stomach. He was about to get sucked into something time-consuming and probably impossible. But he looked between the faces of his best friends and sighed. Well, he didn't have anything better to do.