Note:

This chapter is a chaotic mix of accidental water spells and epic "I'm done" energy. Phil isn’t just soaking Marauders; she’s also making it clear she decides who’s in her story. Here’s to standing your ground and dramatic exits.

...

»Oh, why don't we have Transfiguration together in the Sixth Year? I would have loved to see that!« laughed a voice beside me. »Next time, make sure to hit Black, ha ha!«
I glanced to my right, meeting Elizabeth's green eyes briefly before looking back at the empty cup in front of me. I sat in one of Hogwarts' courtyards, practising the Aguamenti spell, when a certain Slytherin had decided to join me.
Elizabeth had asked what I was doing alone. I had told her about the incident in Transfiguration, that Heffordson had sent me to practise alone after class. With another session scheduled in three days, I was determined to perfect the spell. Elizabeth found my story hilarious and had decided to stick around, even though she had been on her way to meet Severus Snape by the lake, taking advantage of the unusually mild weather.
»I really didn't mean to hit anyone with my water flood...« I muttered.
»I know, I know,« she replied, still amused. »But next time, make sure it's Black. Do it for me.« Her voice took on a pleading tone, eyes sparkling with mischief.
I raised an eyebrow. »May I ask why you and Black can't stand each other?«
She shrugged nonchalantly. It was a Saturday, and she wore a black shirt and trousers, much like many Slytherins did on weekends. I, too, was in casual clothes, although my green trousers and red blouse felt out of place next to Elizabeth's elegant attire, with its black embroidery that hinted at wealth and status fitting for a Lestrange.

Clothing doesn't define a person.

»Well, for starters, Black is in Gryffindor,« Elizabeth said, her tone light. »You're actually the first Gryffindor I've spoken to normally. But with Black, it's also because he's a Black in Gryffindor. Our families are quite similar, you see, and we've been at each other's throats since first year. It's entertaining, but I genuinely can't stand him. He's become even more unbearable since he discovered his cock.«
»But you two are very alike,« I pointed out.
Elizabeth looked at me as if I had slapped her. »Don't ever say that again, Phil!« she warned, shuddering slightly as if to shake off the thought.
I could not help but grin. It was true; they were similar, especially in their approach to conflict. Elizabeth, like Black, was undeniably arrogant. Yet, she was also a decent person, despite her outward bravado.
Why she chose to talk to me, I had stopped questioning. I simply allowed it to happen. It was refreshing. Unlike others, she never tried to dictate my actions or prattle on about dating like most of our Sixth-Year peers. Lestrange's presence was a welcome change.
The fact that she was a Slytherin did not bother me. I never understood the fuss over house allegiances. My own father had been a Gryffindor, yet he was far from a good person. To me, Elizabeth was much like Sirius Black, though in Slytherin and possessing a more normal relationship with her family, as normal as one could expect from the Lestranges.
Oddly enough, I found myself more at ease around those who did not have perfect family dynamics. Lily, for instance, always felt the need to protect and care for me, while Elizabeth simply coexisted. It was easier that way.
Besides my childhood, being a werewolf was my biggest burden, but this curse would never go away. In a week, the next full moon would be upon us, and I was enjoying the time until then. Last full moon, during the second week of school, the Marauders had told me again not to talk to Elizabeth. Naturally, I had ignored them. Even the girls had stopped lecturing me about this matter a week ago.

That's how I prefer it.
My life, my choices.

»Black is Black. There are worse things,« I remarked, breaking the silence. Elizabeth's nose wrinkled at my words, but she eventually nodded. Her expression turned peculiar, though she said nothing. I decided to give the spell another go.
»Aguamenti,« I uttered, flicking my wand in a wave-like motion. This time, a small droplet of water appeared, which brought a fleeting sense of satisfaction.
»So, it's either your spells are hopeless or sheer chaos?« Elizabeth observed, eyeing the droplet with a raised eyebrow.
»You could say that,« I conceded.
Control over my magic had always been elusive. The simplest of spells could either fail completely or cause unintended havoc. Better to stick to everyday charms and non-wand activities, avoiding anything too advanced. Even dueling or defense spells. They posed too many dangers, not just to me but to others as well. If I had only hit Potter with water and once set Heffordson's cloak on fire, with an explosion spell, I could either do nothing or create pure chaos.
»It is what it is,« Elizabeth said. »Not all wizards and witches are equally gifted. You have your strengths elsewhere. I'm sure of it.«
»Thanks, but I still need to master this stupid spell by Tuesday...«
Elizabeth chuckled. »Then you'd better practise,« she said with a wink. I resumed my efforts, and after several attempts, a steady stream of water finally poured into the cup. The force of it surprised me, and I dropped my wand as the stream grew too strong.
Elizabeth's eyes had been fixed on the cup, but a voice distracted her. »I've been looking for you, Lizzy...«
I frowned as Severus Snape entered the courtyard, his black eyes locking onto Elizabeth.
»I told you not to call me that,« she retorted, glancing at her watch. »Sorry, I lost track of time.«
Snape came to stand beside her, dressed in his usual black trousers and white shirt. His hair, longer than it had been before summer, framed his pale face. Snape's gaze shifted to me, scrutinising me from head to toe. I met his stare, noticing his forehead creased with three distinct lines. He seemed just as puzzled by Elizabeth's choice of company as I had once been. Nor did he know how to deal with me. I was friends with Lily and a Gryffindor.

I don't like you, Snape. Just because of Lily.

Eventually, Snape gave me a curt nod. »Let's go,« he said to Elizabeth before turning to leave. She lingered a moment longer, meeting my eyes.
»See you around, Phil,« she said softly before following Snape out of the courtyard, leaving me alone.
Or so I thought. As I bent to pick up my wand and continue practising, a voice behind me broke the silence. »What was that about?«
Startled, I spun around to find Sirius Black standing there, arms crossed and jaw clenched, watching the two Slytherins leave. Beside him stood the other Marauders. One look at their expressions told me they were not here for a casual chat. Where they had come from, I did not know. But it was clear they were about to meddle in my life once again.

Yes, fantastic, just what I needed...

»It's called a conversation, in case you're unfamiliar,« I mocked, turning my attention back to the cup in my hand. Practising spells with the four boys breathing down my neck was not an option.
My words elicited a snort from Black, and they all sat down around me without invitation. Remus settled to my left, Pettigrew beside him, Black in front of me, and Potter to my right, his eyes darting between the cup and my wand warily, remembering.
»I know what a conversation is, we're having one right now,« came the retort. My gaze met a pair of cold, grey eyes.
»No, this is an unwanted conversation, Sirius,« I corrected, resisting their invasion of my space.
»Ha, ha,« Black said dryly.
I raised an eyebrow. »What do you want? To tell me again not to talk to Elizabeth? Your arguments are getting quite predictable.«
»She can't be trusted,« Black insisted, his voice firm.
»She's up to something,« Potter echoed, standing by his friend.
I looked at the two of them calmly. »And what might that be?« I asked. Of course, no specific answer followed, so I pressed on, »What is she supposed to do? Convert me to the Slytherin cause? Recruit me for the Death Eaters because my family name carries such a glorious history with them? Is that your warning, Sirius? That I'll use my werewolf abilities for the Dark Side because all Death Eaters want the werewolves on their side?«
»It's enough if she uses you for ordinary purposes,« Potter interjected, his brown eyes scrutinising me from behind his glasses.
I inhaled deeply, letting the fresh air fill my lungs, my fingers digging into the grass.
»She's evil and a Lestrange. She acts only for her own benefit,« Sirius hissed.
»She hasn't done anything to me,« I said flatly. »She even stood up for me once when Mulciber Jr. humiliated me in the Fourth Year. She confronted her own housemates. Right now, I feel more threatened by you.«
Silence fell. I was certain they did not know this - Elizabeth would never have boasted about standing up to Mulciber.

Slytherins rarely boast about kind acts.

»That doesn't matter; no one can stand Mulciber,« Black rationalised. »She's plotting something, and the Lestrange family is likely behind it.«
»Oh, and how do you know that?« I mocked. »Because you're a Black?« I finally said aloud.
Tension spiked, thickening the air between us. The Marauders stared at me with stern expressions, a collective intake of breath holding the moment still. I met their gazes evenly, ignoring the other students milling about in the courtyard. Overhead, a grey blanket of clouds loomed ominously.
»Sirius knows what he's talking about,« Potter said coldly.
Even Remus spoke up for the first time, »You haven't been here long, Phil. You don't know much about the old wizarding families. You don't see beneath the surface. Trust us.«
»Are you calling me naive?« The words stung, especially coming from Remus. My time at Hogwarts had been short, my knowledge of the wizarding world limited. But many others shared my ignorance - half-bloods, Muggle-borns - yet that did not make them fools. Only me?
»That's not what I meant, Phil,« Remus backtracked, but Black cut in, »No, he's right. We're concerned that Lestrange might manipulate you because you're new here.«
»The Dark Forces are rising,« Potter added gravely.
»The Lestranges are no good,« Sirius's voice grew louder. »I don't usually talk about it, but I know. The Blacks are the same; raised with a twisted sense of honour, destined for Slytherin. Dark Arts are idolised, dreams of ruling over others. There's no love, just contempt for anyone not of pure blood. I've already turned against my family, and I know how Slytherins think. Lestrange is as cunning as they come, probably aligning with the Death Eaters, judging by the way she talks. We just don't want you falling for her tricks, Phil. You don't know everything yet.«

So that's what you think of me...

Black finished, and they all looked at me as if I were a naive girl needing everything explained, as if I trusted everyone at face value. I let their words sink in. To be seen this way by them, it hurt. I did not want to imagine what others thought if even they saw me like this. It was enough to kindle anger within me.
The boys slowly realised my silence was not a sign of agreement.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself. »Thank you,« I said icily. »Only through your words, Black, do I start to understand. Only now do I begin to fathom what it means to be raised like you.«
Sirius opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. »Wait, let me think. Suddenly, memories of my own childhood resurface, things I've never shared because I didn't want to. I forgot that I had a father who loved the Dark Arts, who preached about honour, who loathed everyone. A farther who always told me that you humans - not just half-bloods and muggle-borns like in your case, all-knowing Black -, no, all of you are vile, disgusting creatures unworthy of life. I forgot what it's like to be an experiment for Dark Magic. Torture through spells is common among the worst purebloods. But violence exists without magic too. I didn't imagine being beaten by my mother's second husband whenever I spoke out of turn. Or having a madwoman for a mother who heard voices and abused me. Being locked in a cellar every full moon and beaten simply for what I am. No, I might not have been raised exactly like you, but I think you'll find some similarities. And I don't want to play this game of 'who had the worse childhood' just to use it as leverage. Here we go, poor Sirius Black, knows everything about Slytherins because his childhood was hell. Go cry somewhere else! Take your 'I-know-all-Slytherins' and shove it up your arse! You don't even know all the Gryffindors! You certainly don't know me!«
I stood up, taking my cup with me. The four boys remained silent, their faces unreadable. Looking down at them, I was not done yet. »To me, you lions are just wearing the disguise of snakes, judging by the way you act. You don't know me, yet you treat me like some naive girl with a dark past. But as you might agree, Black, bad experiences in childhood are what make someone not naive. So, sure, let's make Lestrange the villain, and you my saviours. I don't care! But one thing is clear: stay out of my life from now on! I'll play the naive Aquila, and you can kiss my arse. Maybe I'm so naive I'll start believing my father's words, that you're all despicable creatures! I choose my friends, and you are not among them. I thought you were alright, especially you, Remus, but it seems I should prefer the friendship of a snake who's never once mentioned my heritage. If I fall, I'll fall alone! Thank you!«
With those final words, I turned and walked away, leaving the boys behind, struck silent by my outburst.

Later in my dormitory, I let my frustration out. The girls were by the lake, as I had wanted to practice Aguamenti. I was glad to be alone, because I was on edge. I was also hurt that I had had such a fight with the boys.
It hurt that they thought of me that way, especially Remus, who had agreed with his friends. He was the only one I had talked to a lot because I thought we understood each other. Apparently, we did not.
I felt misunderstood by everyone, not even the girls. They always looked at me worriedly, as if I were a naive Phil. Only with Elizabeth had I never felt that way, and I had known her for only a month. Maybe she was as the boys said, and I was better off alone. But I wanted to find out for myself.

Fall on my own.
That's why I was angry.

I was tending to my Wiggentree, which had already grown. It noticed the autumn; it was slowly losing its leaves. The dormitory was quiet, and when I thought my day could not get any worse, I heard a knock on the window.
I put the small garden shears on my nightstand and looked at the window.
A brown owl, as small as a tawny owl, sat there with a letter in its yellow beak. At first, I thought nothing of it and let the owl in.
From Lily's side of the room, I fetched water and food, then looked at the letter. I was about to place it on one of the girls' beds, as I did not receive letters, when I froze. On the envelope was my name. My stomach tightened.