seven moody princess

✨

       WHAT DO YOU WEAR, to a meeting held by a little shit, at a dodgy pub, which some dick invited you to? Boots? To stomp on them? Or what? Mia examines her wardrobe with a titled head and eyes narrowed; she, of course, doesn't want to look as if she tried for this, but also, trying to look too nonchalant would go against every fashion belief Mia holds, that it's stupid to worry about if people thought you made an effort, because fuck it, everyone does. So Mia takes out her green plaid trousers, her black jumper, and denim jacket — the black one, with the tan collar. Then she grabs her Docs and trims her hair (it was starting to get too long) and walks out the dorm door.

       Most people don't pick up on clothes, anyway, Mia thinks. She knows she, personally, puts care into her outfits, but she knows that most people are gonna overlook them. Unless she rolls out in, like, her Yule Ball gown every single morning, people don't pay attention to clothes. Or, at least, not as much as you think. But Mia loves it dearly and likes to think about it, daydream new outfit ideas, wish that one day she'll have a good job so that she'll be able to afford a wicked wardrobe. She dreams of having a walk-in wardrobe.

       She knows it's bad, wanting that much, but imagine: Mia, with her cute little family, with this little room upstairs with a vanity and racks of clothes. Maybe she'll have a daughter, or a son, and either way, maybe they'll sit on her lap and she'll show them all of her different clothes, and maybe they'll adopt their own love for clothes, and she'll take her children out shopping.

       Mia knows she sounds like such a stereotype, but she loves to dream about what her life will be like, when she's all grown up. She has a whole life cooked up with her phantom bridegroom, because, come on, who doesn't? She likes to think about her wedding, how she'll have it in the summer when it's nice and warm, or maybe in the autumn, but like, early autumn so it's not super chilly. And for children, she likes the idea of just two — as an only child she wishes she had a sibling — and she's got a whole list of potential names written down... Well. She has boy names written down. For a girl, it's gonna be Emilia, not after her, but her mum.

       But for boys? Oscar, Leo, Noah. She secretly loves the name Orion, too, but part of her feels uneasy at the moment, her kid having any association with her dad. When she loved Orion as a name, it was when her dad was in prison, and Mia was here, thinking how brave her dad was, sacrificing himself, how brilliant he was. And then he escaped and he didn't bother to see her and it went all down the drain, alongside her feelings for the name Orion.

       Mia doesn't know who she'll marry. For ages her phantom bridegroom had a shape, and that was Cedric. But not anymore. Now this mysterious figure is that — a mystery. Putting the name phantom bridegroom into work.

       George puts his hand on Mia's shoulder when she gets into the Leaky Cauldron, which makes her jump. She almost swats his hand away, but he takes it off her coat before she can.

       "I knew you'd come," he says with a smug grin.

       Mia rolls her eyes. "Shut up."

       "Pretty Gryffindor of you," he says.

       "There's other Hufflepuffs here," says Mia. "And Ravenclaws, and—" She was about to add Slytherin, but when she looks around, there isn't a single one. There is an Archie, though, who waves at Mia. She smiles at him, and wonders why Cormac didn't come, too. "I don't even know if I'll go to these actual meetings..."

       "You don't do Defence, it might be helpful to know stuff," says George with a shrug. Mia can see Fred and Lee, and Briar sitting in-between them. Maybe her and Fred have a date, or something, after this, Mia doubts Briar left France to come to this. "You don't know what's out there..."

       Mia thinks of Cedric, and his murder.

       "You don't," she says quietly.

       There's a pause. There normally is, these days.

       "You can sit with us, up front, if you want," says George.

       Mia leans against the wall. "I'm fine, thanks."

       "OK," he says. "I'll stay with you, then."

       "Why?" she says.

       "Well, you might be lonely," says George.

       Mia doesn't know what to say.

       "Uh," says Mia. "OK."

       "I can go," he says.

       She frowns. "It's fine...?"

       "Cool," says George.

       Mia's so confused right now.

       He leans against the wall next to her, like she's doing. She feels very aware that they're standing the same so she crosses her arms, for a slight difference in stance. George seems to mouth something at Fred, and Fred something at George, and Mia feels very strange. About all of this. She doesn't know what's going on. Which is especially weird, because when is Mia ever at a loss for words, when it comes to boys...?

       "Er," says Hermione, her voice a couple octaves higher than usual. Obviously she's nervous. "Well... erm... well, you know why you're here. Erm... well, Harry here had the idea — I mean" — Harry glares at her. Prat. — "I had the idea — that it might be good if people who wanted to study Defence Against the Dark Arts — and I mean, really study it, you know, not the rubbish that Umbridge is doing with us because nobody could call that Defence Against the Dark Arts, well, I thought it would be good if we, well, took matters into our own hands — and by that I mean learning how to defend ourselves properly, not just theory but the real spells—"

       And then the room breaks into a chorus of but what about our exam? Mia shares a glance with Briar, who smiles softly.

       "But I want more than that, I want to be properly trained in Defence because ... because... because Lord Voldemort's back."

       A couple of people scream in terror, at the mention of him. Mia frowns. She didn't realise people reacted like that because of him. Mia wouldn't say his name, sure, but that's out of habit. She's scared of him, too, like everyone else in the country, but to shriek...?

       "Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?"

       Mia already knows it's Zacharias Smith.

       Hermione begins, "Well, Dumbledore believes it —"

       "You mean, Dumbledore believes him," he says, and he nods at Harry. "I think we've got the right to know exactly what makes him say You-Know-Who's back."

       Mia can feel the blood in her body boiling. She fidgets with her arms, unfolding them, shoving her hands into her coat pocket. Next to her George glances over, as if checking up on her, and Mia's jaw clenches. How dare Zacharias Smith, the little shit, sit there and act all high and mighty. What else would've happened to Cedric, except for him dying at You-Know-Who's hand? Does he think someone else killed him? Fuck off.

       "Look," says Hermione, "That's really not what this meeting was supposed to be about—"

       "It's okay, Hermione," says Harry. I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you don't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone."

       But Zacharias persists.

       "All Dumbledore told us last year was that Cedric Diggory got killed by You-Know-Who and that you brought Diggory's body back to Hogwarts," he says, trying to dismiss the whole story. It takes all of Mia's energy to stop herself from shattering the Butterbeer glass in his hands, or turning the liquid into an erupting mess. Cedric wouldn't want that, Cedric wouldn't want that... "He didn't give us details, he didn't tell us exactly how Diggory got murdered, I think we'd all like to know—"

       "Why do you wanna know, anyway?" says Mia, speaking at long last. A flurry of heads turn to look at her, at the moody scowl on her face, at the candle next to her, turning a fiery shade of orange. Mia looks at Zacharias, who's face has gone bone-white. "I'm waiting."

       "Well — I—"

       "What, do you like to know how people died?" she says. Zacharias is blubbering now, shaking his head. "It's none of your fucking business what happened to Cedric. I suggest you either shut up, or leave, yeah?"

       Zacharias, eyes widened, nods. "Y-Yeah..."

       "Good," says Mia, her voice aggressive still.

       George whistles, next to Mia.

       "Right, Harry," he says. "What were you saying?"

       Weird, Mia thinks.

       Zacharias keeps on glancing back at Mia, completely freaked out. It's understandable, Mia thinks. Mia always made such an effort, to be nice to everyone, living by it's cool to be kind! But now, there's a constant anger inside of her. She's nothing but moody. Moody Mia, that's her. Moody Mia sitting, seething, waiting for the day her misery will build up and up and make enough energy to give Cedric back to her.

       "So... like I was saying," says Hermione, her voice high-pitched, apparently alarmed from the fact that Mia was this close to pulling an Emilia and burning the whole building down. "If you want to learn some defence, then we need to work out how we're going to do it, how often we're going to meet, and where we're going to—"

       Someone asks Harry, "Is it true that you can produce a Patronus?"

       Oh, Mia remembers that.

       "You should've seen Harry's Patronus!" he dad had said, all grins and smiles and cheeriness because perfect Harry had saved the day! "His Patronus is like James', you know, Em, isn't that brilliant? Merlin, Harry is such a brilliant wizard, I can't wait to see what he'll be like, when he's all grown up!"

       It wasn't as if Mia was right fucking there (right next to them!) in her dorm, next to the Whomping fucking Willow!

       "Yeah," says Harry.

       "A corporeal Patronus?"

       Look at the wonder boy, Mia thinks. Jesus Christ.

       "Uh," says George, quietly. "You all right?"

       Mia frowns. "What?"

       "I can literally feel how hot you are, from here," he says, and he looks down at the decent gap between the two of them. Mia crosses her arms. She doesn't think he'd appreciate her bitching about the honorary ginger.

       "It's nothing," she says.

       George pulls a face, unconvinced. "No it's not!"

       "How do you know?" she says.

       George gives her a look. "C'mon. Is it about that stuff Smith was saying?"

       "Yeah," says Mia, lying to make him shut up.

       She tunes back into the delightful uproar of different kids praising Harry. She gets it, he's done some stuff, like she can appreciate he's brave and all that — but why should that make her dad prefer him? Sirius is her dad, not his. And yet he's here, being praised, just like her dad praises him, whenever he finds the chance to do so. Whether it's five minutes after Mia sees her dad again, or this summer, it still stings the same. It still reminds her, that at the end of the day, her dad loves him more than her.

        "I know I did bits of it without help," says Harry, sounding awkward. Own your shit, God. "But the point I'm trying to make is—"

       Zacharias speaks again, much to Mia's excitement: "Are you trying to weasel out of showing us any of this stuff?"

       Mia doesn't even have to, like, use her magic, because Ron beats her to it.

       "Here's an idea," he says. "Why don't you shut your mouth?"

       "Well, we've all turned up to learn from him," says Zacharias. "And now he's telling us he can't really do any of it."

       "That's not what he said," says Fred, from the front of the pub.

       "Would you like us to clean out your ears for you?" says George, drawing something metallic out from a Zonko's bag. Mia thinks it looks a little like an oversized eyelash curler.

       "Or any part of your body, really," says Fred. "We're not fussy where we stick this..."

       Mia glances across at George, and whistles quietly. "Oof."

       "Shut up," he mutters.

       "Yes, well," says Hermione, speaking to the whole group. "Moving on... the point is, are we agreed we want to take lessons from Harry?"

       "Why don't we just... kill Umbridge?" says Mia, to George.

       George frowns. "I love the enthusiasm," he says. "But that's illegal?"

       "... Your point?" she says. "Better than this."

       Hermione says again: "Do we all agree?"

       There's a murmur of agreements. George nudges Mia, and she grumbles, before saying a very unenthusiastic sure.

       "Baby steps," says George.

       Mia rolls her eyes.

       "Well, then, the next question is how often we do it," says Hermione. "I really don't think there's any point in meeting less than once a week—"

       "Hang on," says Angelina Johnson, captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. "We need to make sure this doesn't clash with our Quidditch practice."

       Cho Chang, Ravenclaw captain, nods. "Nor ours."

       Zacharias Smith looks back at Mia, before nodding. "Nor ours."

       He's captain now? What the fuck?

       "I'm sure we can find a night that suits everyone," says Hermione. "But you know, this is rather important, we're talking about learning to defend ourselves against V—Voldemort's Death Eaters—"

         "Well said!" says Ernie, one of Zacharias' friends. Mia likes him. He's super enthusiastic about life, like Mia used to be, and it's nice to see someone with that lovely golden gleam over the world. "Personally I think this is really important, possibly more important than anything else we'll do this year, even with our O.W.L.s coming up!" Mia's in sixth year, meaning she has no responsibilities until the next. So she doesn't relate to this, but she understands. "I, personally, am at a loss to see why the Ministry has foisted such a useless teacher upon us at this critical period. Obviously they are in denial about the return of You-Know-Who, but to give us a teacher who is trying to actively pre- vent us from using defensive spells—"

         Hermione glances across at Ron and Harry. "We think the reason Umbridge doesn't want us trained in Defense Against the Dark Arts is that she's got some... some mad idea that Dumbledore could use the students in the school as a kind of private army," she explains. "She thinks he'd mobilise us against the Ministry."

       Luna Lovegood nods. "Well, that makes sense. After all, Cornelius Fudge has got his own private army."

       "What?" says Harry, his eyes a confused squint. Part of Mia thinks they look more you're so fucking weird than I don't understand, but she can't tell for sure.

        And then the following occurs:

       Luna. "He's got an army of heliopaths."

       Hermione, irritated. "No, he hasn't."

       Luna, now a little irritated. "Yes, he has."

       Neville, asking everyone's question. "What are heliopaths?"

       Luna, unbothered. "They're spirits of fire."

       It's a little mind-numbing, in Mia's eyes. She's sent back to the days where she sat in Quidditch practices, not because she played the sport, but because Cedric was busy explaining strategies and Mia had no one else to hang out with. Sometimes she'd get asked by the other team members, "Hey, Mia, why don't you try out?" because, to be fair, she did act as a substitute when someone was sick during practice, but she never thought about it.

       She doesn't really like playing Quidditch. She doesn't really like flying on a broom. It's awkward and uncomfortable and like, there are easier methods of transport? Last summer — not the most recent one, the one when her dad didn't spend every minute with Harry, when they weren't cooped up in Grimmauld Place — her dad said he'd find her a motorbike, like the one he used to have. Mia isn't sure if the comfort level will be any better, but she supposes it's worth a shot... If that ever happens now.

       "That's you," says George, under his breath.

       Mia almost laughs. "You're the ginger, shouldn't it be you?" 

       "Maybe we both are," he says. "We've got so much in common."

       Mia, this time, laughs.

       Luna continues, "Great tall flaming creatures that gallop across the ground burning everything in front of—"

       "They don't exist, Neville," says Hermione.

       Mia glances across at George. "But we're right here."

       George snorts. Mia smiles softly.

       "There are plenty of eyewitness accounts, just because you're so narrow-minded you need to have everything shoved under your nose before you—"

       "Um," says Briar, and like that, the room goes quiet. The golden girl's back, the golden girl's creating the long-needed peace in the room. Luna seems to go back to her unbothered state, and Hermione looks less irritated. The growing annoyance by everyone else, from this random interruption of the meeting, completely disappears, like it was never there in the first place. All because Briar Crouch said, "Um."

       Apparently she's the head girl at Beauxbatons now — well, Mia says apparently but she knows it's true. You'd have to deaf to ignore Fred Weasley's constant mentions of how he was going out with the head girl of Beauxbatons... It should be noted that, amongst the boys, Beauxbatons was seen as the hot girl school, last year. But anyway, she digresses.

       Briar stands up, and in the light of the dingy pub, the frizz in her blonde hair creates a halo around her face. An angel walking amongst men. Topped with her white jeans, and Beauxbatons-branded coat, the image is even clearer.

      "Weren't you trying to, like, decide how often you're going to meet?" says Briar, and she stands next to Harry, which seems to calm him down a little. Mia's amazed by it all. The other two Marauder kids — save Briar's brother Livvy — are tight, whereas Mia was cast astray. She wishes she hadn't been, honestly...

       "Yes," says Hermione.

       "Once a week sounds cool," says Lee Jordan, one of Briar's old friends, when she was at Hogwarts and in Fred and George's friendship group. Apparently things are getting sorted, now that Briar's made herself the centre of it all.

       Angelina Johnson sits upright. "As long as—"

       "It won't interfere with Quidditch," says Briar. She glances at Hermione, who seems relieved someone else is helping with organising, and adds, "I've got to go back for six, but I can help you figure out a timetable, if you write to me."

       Hermione nods, and says, "Well, the other thing to decide is where we're going to meet..."

       And then people start offering up ideas. The library — Madam Pince would get pissed off. An unused classroom — but McGonagall won't want us getting involved in something like this. Every option had its problem, why they couldn't pick that one. Mia starts to remember that room from her fourth year, but she thinks, shut up, Mia. She never said she wanted to be a part of this. She doesn't want to be, does she? If someone attacks her, her magic will bite back. She's safe. But... She can't help but hear the other voice in her head, the one that sounds awfully like her mum's, saying, but it's not exactly fair, is it, you knowing somewhere they can use...

       Mia sighs. 

       "I—I think everybody should write their name down, just so we know who was here," says Hermione, and she takes a piece of parchment out from her bag. Briar takes hold of it and gives it to Fred, since Briar doesn't need to sign it, considering she won't actually be going to the meetings. "But I also think that we all ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge — or anybody else — what we're up to."

       The parchment's sent around, some more hesitant to put their name on it than others, and by the time it reaches the back, Mia realises she'll be the last one to have it.

       George is signing his name on it, and writing 'is a prat next to Fred's name, a little smirk on his face. Mia looks at the parchment with narrowed eyes. Once she's signed that, that's it — she's officially put herself among the Gryffindors and the Weasleys, among the group of people that were awful to her best friend before he died. All summer she's resented them, feeling like such an outsider considering their family unity. Signing that is just like saying, hi, I wanna be included. Outwardly declaring that yes, she is not included, and has never been, and yes, she is pathetically putting herself into their equation.

       Maybe at Christmas she'll get a sweater with a big M on. Woo.

       George hands her the parchment, and for a second they share a glance. From the looks of things, he isn't sure if she's going to sign it, either.

       Mia frowns, twirls the quill in between her fingers, and sighs.

       Cedric would want this.

       So she signs:

       Mia Black.

       People start to leave the pub now, and Mia takes the parchment and quill back to the front, to give to Hermione. Mia feels as if she's doing the walk of shame, walking past everyone from the meeting, cementing the fact that yes, she had been here, if they had forgotten her arguing with Zacharias halfway through. Harry had been talking to Briar, but Briar's since left, holding Fred's hand. Gross.

       Mia looks around awkwardly. "Uh," she says. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all gawk at her. She feels like an alien. "I was the last one to have it, so, uh, here you go..."

       Hermione smiles nervously. "O—Oh, thanks," she says.

       Merlin.

       "And, uh," says Mia, and she pauses. She really doesn't want to tell them about that room. But she's got to. It would irritate her, knowing she hadn't told them. She'd feel wrong, not saying something, when she knows she can help. So she sighs, and she continues. "I know a room... You can have the meetings in."

        Harry looks at her oddly. Almost suspiciously. Fuck off, you're the one taking my dad from me. "Where?" he asks.

       "Some hallway," says Mia. "I know it, though."

       "But surely someone could—"

       "It's hidden, it's safe," says Mia, frowning at Harry.

       Ron and Hermione stand still. Mia worries she's frozen them... She hasn't. She sees Ron blink. Crisis averted.

       Harry narrows his eyes still. "Why do you know about it, then?"

       "Because," says Mia, and she looks straight back at him, her own eyes narrowed. "You might've forgotten, but it was my dad that escaped from Azkaban. Maybe I wanted to hide from it all."

       She turns back around and zips up her coat, to walk outside, back up to the normal Hogsmeade shops. She can hear Hermione frantically whispering something to Harry and Ron but Mia ignores it. Honest to God. Harry thinks he can narrow his eyes and try and be rude to her? To her, when it was her best friend that died, when it was her dad that escaped to look after him, not her... And he thinks he can get away with being a prat to her? Fuck right off. There is one moody shit at Hogwarts, and it's Mia fucking Black.

       Mia gets outside and, before the door can close shut behind her, someone else walks out. She doesn't even have to glance to her side to know that it's George — this time, though, he's accompanied by Lee Jordan.

       "Well, that was fun," says George.

       "Almost as fun as what we're doing now," says Lee.

       Mia raises an eyebrow. "What are you...?"

       "I'm so glad you asked, Mia!" says Lee with a grin. Mia's taken aback. She almost stumbles into George, to move away from the strange grinning boy. "Me and George are going to go to The Three Broomsticks, to wash down that place's shitty watered-down Butterbeer, but, before that, we're going to pay Freddie a little visit..."

       "You know Madam Puddifoots?" says George.

       Mia frowns. "Yeah...?"

       "Briar's obsessed with it," says George. "It's bloody brilliant, though, seeing Fred scramble around in there..."

       "I think I'd rather die than step foot in that place," says Lee, shuddering.

       Mia puts her hands in her coat pockets, feeling a little sheepish. "I think that place is sweet," she says.

       "Y—You do?" says George.

       Mia nods. "It's nice... in there."

       "Oh — well — uh—"

       Lee sighs. "Disgraceful," he says. "Anyway, we're going Three Broomsticks after, if you wanna come with."

       "Uh—"

       "Maybe we should just go straight there," says George.

        Lee looks appalled. "And not make fun of your twin...?"

       "Have you seen his face?" says George. "He's been through enough."

       "You have the same face," says Lee. "Mia, don't they—"

       "They're a little different," says Mia.

       George grins at Lee. "See! I told you!"

       "Just means you're both ugly," says Lee, and Mia laughs.

       The Three Broomsticks stands in front of them, and Mia begins to wonder if she should make an excuse to go back to the castle now, instead of enduring an awkward hour with George and Lee. But, she supposes they're OK... It should be fine. It was nice, being able to laugh a little, after how angry she had been, during that meeting.

       "So," says Lee. "You coming?"

       "Uh," says Mia. "If that's OK."

       "Of course that's OK, Mia," says George with a grin.

       This still feels super weird, though.

       Super, super weird.

i am SO so sorry for how long this update has taken but!!!! tysm for the support regardless!! i love u guys lots n lots n let me know what u thought about this chapter!!!! xx