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Chapter 11: Betrayals –Featuring the Cupboard of Doom


“You suck.”

Bart rolled his eyes and dipped his sponge on the bucket full of soapy water and bubbles. “It’s not that bad.”

“You seriously suck.”

Bart frowned at me. “Now you are just blowing this out of proportion.”

“I will never, ever in my life be partnering up with you for potions again,” I grumbled, scrubbing the filthy floor with a sponge of my own. Thanks to Bart, who had managed to screw up the only potion that had gone well on the term by adding the dreaded wolfsbane, we had our arses thrown into detention. And that really sucked, thanks to a thing called Quidditch Practice which Bart and I were currently missing. I know I probably should call it off but no way, those people needed to run some laps and even if I wasn’t there they weren’t getting saved. Still, I had to do the hardest thing in my six years in this institution –hand over practice to Scorpius for once.

And I have deeply regretted my decision ever since and wished I stopped being such a lazy arse to find Cole and tell him to handle it for today.

Ugh, I wonder what on earth Scorp will be doing to my beloved team.

My poor, poor team.

Oh, I’m going to have to make it up to them next week for putting them through this torture.


Bart rolled his eyes and begun sweeping the soaky soapy sponge across a table. “This isn’t my fault.”

I dropped my sponge and turn to him, making sure to glare. “Um, yes it is!”

Bart stopped too to look at me. “No it isn’t, Ari.”

Is this kid for real? “I explicitly told you to not add in the wolfsbane with the doxy eggs!”

“Well, you were screaming so much all I heard was pure banshee shriek!”

My jaw hung and Bart’s eyes widened.

I turned away, deeply hurt and scarred. We were not going to get past this so easily. That hurt. And it would take time for the wounds to heal.

“You know I didn’t mean that, Ari,” Bart said slowly, carefully placing his hands on my shoulders. His touch hurt like sensitive skin on a hot rod iron, or the way cupid’s twisted, rusted, sharp arrow would feel when it suddenly struck your skin (the outcome being no romantic feelings at all). He betrayed me. He knew that I only meant him well, and still, he cheated on me. He cheated on our friendship-pledge. He called my helpful shouting a banshee shriek.

“How can I?” I asked, my voice breaking slightly.

The sponges were temporarily forgotten.

“Because I’m an idiot, Ariadne, you know that.” Bart sighed and gripped my shoulders tightly, but I would not turn around to look at him. It hurts too much. “I wasn’t thinking, you were being very helpful, love, please talk to me.”

I fake-sniffed for a second and sighed. “That hurt, Bartholomew. And I don’t know if we will get past this so easily with no scars.”

“But we will!” Bart grabbed my hands and spun me around so I faced him, making sure I could see him and only him. “But we will, because this is something beautiful that we are discovering together, and because we love each other.”

I looked down, acting as if I wasn’t sure and bit my lower lip. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” Bart slid his hand under my chin and lifted it up to make me look at him. “You just have to believe.”

I watched his navy blue eyes for a second burn on with intensity into mine before scrambling away from under his grip. “Ookay, let me go before I kiss you or something equally disgusting,” I laughed at him, bending down to grab my sponge and getting back to work.

I love it when we play a soap opera.

Bart was sporting the smuggest smirk in the world. “I am awesome.”

“And yet you find yourself without a girlfriend,” I retailed, dunking the sponge in the bucket and splashing the floor.

Bart pouted.

“Why, why must you always bring a bloke down?” He asked as he jumped down the chair and grabbed the metal spatula to start scraping away the results of the massive explosion our cauldron – Bart’s – caused. Professor Swayfield had forbid us to use any magic and confiscated our wands before leaving us to our detention for the day, cleaning up the classroom after the cauldron’s – Bart’s – mess.

“Because it makes me cooler.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Shut it, I don’t care.”

We worked in silence for a while then, since the table-scraping with the spatula made the little hairs on the back of my neck stand up as nails in a chalkboard. I even tremble while remembering the sound.

“I’m done scraping,” Bart announced.

“Ohmygodthankgoodness!” I cried, standing up and flinging myself at my best mate’s arms.

“You sure seem happy,” He chuckled and welcomed the hug.

“Of course. With that horrible, horrible sound I was about to jump out that window.”

“There are no windows here.”

“Exactly my point.”

He rolled her eyes and tossed me the towel to begin the cleaning up of the cleaning. So, he begun wiping hardened potion crumbs left over from his scraping off the table and then into the bucket as I made sure all the chairs and desks were lined in perfectly according to the tiles on the floor. Professor Swayfield was psycho and if he noticed the slightest chair tipped away from the other, he would explode worse than the potion Bart and I made.

Maybe he’s one of the people that announced my issues to Goyle.

“Hey, Ari?”

“Uh-huh?” I answered absentmindedly, trying to figure out the exact angle to have the chair match the one behind with the desk.

Bart frowned at the floor, nibbling on his lower lip. “Do you really feel nothing for Al?”

I put down the bucket rather harshly on the table and whipped my head back to glare at Bart. “Of course I don’t, what do you take me for?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes at me. How rude! “Can’t you just give him a chance? Try to get to know him? Then you can decided whether you like him or not.”

I rubbed my temples with my index fingers. These Slytherins are really trying to kill me to end up with the captain spot. “You forget I already know him. And I hate him.”

Bart put his arms around my shoulders as we exited the classroom and waltzed through the dungeons towards Professor Swayfield’s stairs, up the sixth floor to the passage around the courtyard into the Herbology greenhouses and out the back door to the pitch. “That can’t possibly be true.”

“Wanna bet?”

He sighed and grabbed my shoulders, making me stop to a halt. “Okay, how about this: you have to try to get to know Al better to see if your opinion of him changes at all. If it doesn’t, I have to be your slave for a week and piggyback you to all our classes. If it does, you crown me king of awesomeness and keep me off laps during practice. Deal?” He held out his hand to me, wiggling his fingers and his eyebrows in unison. It was sorta creepy.

And yet so tempting. I am known for being stubborn, and so if I promised Bart that my opinion of Al won’t change, that’s because it won’t. Seriously. It took me five years to stop hating on Darcy Finnigan and just because of extreme circumstances that now it’s not the time to tell. And what was better? Bart would have to kneel down in front of me and be ready to my every wish and I wouldn’t have to walk to class.

So, so tempting.

“Deal.” I grabbed for his hand immediately and we shook.

Come on, Bart Slave and Piggyback Week. Just come on.





Everyone scattered to their feet, dropping their red plastic cups filled with butterbeer on the ground. I rolled my eyes, my arms folded tightly across my chest, as I watched my team and plenty other people I didn’t know run in every direction away from the pitch. The one that was undoubtedly faster than everyone, already several feet ahead from the pack, was my dear captain stand-in Scorpius Malfoy.

Who had obviously turned my training into a party.

I felt my hands ball up into fists and then flex back down as I grimaced and tried to unclench my jaw. He was getting his punishment later. Maybe something that required a lot of laps and bag full of bricks.

Once again, I should have stopped being a lazy-arse and handed over practice to Cole. He would have been so excited to be running it and try to out-captain me that he would have made them train instead of whatever Scorp had done.

But I am too tired to kill him now.

Soon, though.

Even though there had been no practice, I made Bart run some laps and then made this drill where I kept shooting Quaffles at him and he had to keep them out. I know he thinks I make him work too hard but this will help him. On our last match against Ravenclaw I made him run drills and laps for two hours every day before the match, and he was pumped at ready to go so much that he actually managed to keep them all out. He just needs to be on his zone in time, you know? Like, when he just starts practicing he really sucks. Badly. Veeery very badly. But then, after going at it for a while, he starts to get the hang of it and becomes the keeper I know and love and the one that undoubtedly made the team.

The only weird thing was that unlike every other day I make him practice he did not put up a fight. He didn’t complain, whine, groan, moan, whinge, bleat, whimper, protest, insult, criticize, claim that the others are getting better treatment, nitpick, nag, object, grumble, carp, or find fault at all.  He didn’t fight me about how the others didn’t practice and that it was unfair he had to. He just got on his broom and turned whenever I told him too.

It was definitely suspicious.

But I guess I was just really really glad that Bart Practice Time went by so smoothly (unlike other times) that I just let it slip by undetected and enjoyed it.

Bad idea.

Really bad idea.

I mean, Bartholomew Wright is my best mate. Really. And with everything we have gone through together, I never ever in my life would have thought that he would betray me like this.

I should have known. It was definitely too suspicious.

But instead I went all la-di-laaa, everything’s going so well in my life that I won’t ruin it by worrying about something going wrong.

Again, BAD IDEA.

“Oh, happiness. Happy, happy. Happy dandy! Aren’t you happy, Ari? I sure am happy!” Bart sighed, strolling down the hallways in what already seemed like a skip. A few more of his happy sighs and he would be spewing daisies and rainbows.

Had practice really made him that happy?

“You seem happy,” I joked, and decided to enjoy his suddenly joyful demeanour.

Once more, BAD IDEA.

“Of course I’m happy!” Bart grabbed my shoulders and shook me, his blue eyes wide and, well, happy. “How can I not be happy? That’s what life is about! Enjoying the little things and be grateful that we are alive!”

And so that was when I knitted my eyebrows and cocked my head to the side. “Bart –are you alright? Did you swallow an Euphoria Solution?”

But the bloke didn’t answer me – he was too busy twinkling and buzzing with joy. His eyes were flickering all over the hallway, and a he had a naughty smile plastered on his lips.

And that was when I realized something was up. A little too late, per see – for as my eyes widened in shock and I tried to get away from Bart, the bloke grabbed me by my armpits and sped down the hall.

Usually I wouldn’t squirm nor scream nor kick because I wasn’t stupid and it was impossible for me to beat Bart – the bloke is like five foot eleven and all his muscles are Quidditch-enhanced. Now, I’m not like tiny – but the top of my head barely hits at his eyes.

But this time it was different. This time I was being kidnapped, taken somewhere against my will. So I did squirm, scream, and kicked at the air – but Bart is so big and strong it may as well be me squirming, screaming, and kicking at a rock wall. In all senses. But I am persistent, and still tried to get him to put me down.

“Bart! Let me go! Where are you taking me? Help! HELP! I’M BEING KIDNAPPED!”

“Shut up, Ari, it’s for your own good!” Bart said, making a turn and taking me further down the dungeons.


“No one knows my middle name,” He smirked. Seriously, by the way he was taking me so casually we might as well have been taking a stroll through the lake. Was I that light to him?

Hoho ho. “I do.”

He scrutinized my expression to check if I was lying. “No you do not.”

“Wanna bet?” I hissed, running my tongue through my teeth. This was getting fun.

Bart looked concerned, and he made another turn up the staircase towards the school’s entrance. “I don’t like bets,” he answered nervously. Liar. We just bet something like three hours ago.

But who cared! Oh yeah, Barty. I have you in the palm of my hand!

In the figurative sense, since in the literal sense, I was in his.

“Maxwell,” I sing-sang.

Bart’s eyes popped open wide and he practically jumped the last few steps before putting me down on the safe, sound floor.

I was about to thank him, maybe entertain him with a sarcastic, witty retort, when  rather abruptly he pushed me inside a broom cupboard whose doors were being held open by Arlene.

Oh no.

They set me up.

Gasping in betrayal, I hurried forward just as they slammed the door in my face.

Well, that was rude.

Ugh! I should have known something was up! Bart wasn’t being a toddler at practice! And Arlene wasn’t around. Arlene is always around. She seemed to be able to apparate and disapparate from the castle at will. And yes, I know you are not able to, mother. Let me be.

I started kicking and pounding at the doors.


“Oh, stop being so uptight, Ari!” My sister cackled. I could only but see her twirling around, her light green eyes turning Chinese as she smiles. She looks pretty when she smiles.

I feel the strange urge to pound her smile bloody.             

“It’s for your own good!” Bart said again, and I swear he and Arlene bumped fists. Really? Who does that anymore?

I can’t believe it. First Arlene teams up with Al and now she teams up with Bart. She’s my freaking sister!

Actually, I can believe it, which is the sad thing. Doesn’t take out from the big-arse betrayal, though!

Now Bart. While Arlene was safe from me (not by that much, though) given that she happened to be my older sister and all, he had no sodding idea of what would be of him once I got out.

I knocked on the door endlessly with exasperation. If they weren’t letting me out, I was going to annoy them until they did.

“You can knock all you want,” Someone groaned. “They won’t let us out.”

Oh no.

Oh god please no.





I started pounding on the door non-stop while Al rolled his eyes and sat down on a bucket. Why? I had agreed already to try to get to know the bloke to see if I had changed my mind! They really did not need to lock us in a broom cupboard!



Al sighed, running a hand through his untidy black hair. “Is my company really that dreadful to you?”

Al Potter. Al freaking Potter. They locked me on this cupboard with Albus Potter.

Really. HELP ME.

I turned around, my nostrils flaring and just staring unblinkingly at the bloke. Did he just ask that? “YES.” I turned back to the door and began pounding again.


“You said you were going to try!” Bart’s voice wafted over. His voice was muffled.

“Not like this! Shit, Bart, you are running thirty laps on Tuesday!”

Bart groaned.

“With bricks on your back!”

Arlene (seriously, I can just picture all of this, I know them that well) put her hand on his shoulder and leaned in to his ear. “Oh, you know that won’t happen. Ari is all bark but no bite. Besides, it’s up to us if we let her out of the cupboard.”

“That’s not true! She’s always hexing me! She’s a meanie!”


“No you can’t! You think you are but that’s just your imagination! Great job, Ariadne! You are making progress!”

Is she kidding me?

Is she seriously trying to make me think I’m going insane?

I looked back at Al.

I think I am.

I pounded the door again. “Someone please let me out now!”

“No one’s around. No one’s here to save you.”

“What? You are right there!”

“No we are nooooot!”

Holy mackerel.

I rolled my eyes. “You know I can just blast off these doors any second.”

“No you can’t. For one, you are not allowed to destroy anymore Hogwarts property unless you want a suspension.” Bart’s voice seemed a little smug, as if he was enjoying mocking me now that I wasn’t able to get back at him. “And for two, you don’t have your wand.”

My hand flew to my back pocket, where my wand was usually tucked in. Nothing.

“You took my wand?!” I screeched, my voice reaching high levels of frequency as yet unexplored. “How could you?! Give it! GIVE IT BACK!” I began clawing at the door.

It did as much good as yelling at grass. Even more so, my nails got messed up. Merlin.

They owed me a manicure.

“You guys get to know each other. We’ll be back later!” Arlene trilled, and then the stupidly familiar sound of footsteps fading away followed.

I slammed my body against the door. “Please! Don’t leave me here! I’ll be good! I’ll be your servant!” I moaned and slid down to the ground, burying my face in my hands.

“So,” Al clapped, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s get to know each other!”


“Al, do me a favour and die, please,” I groaned and fell on my side, my cheek against the cold floor.

He rolled his eyes and chuckled, amused. “Who knows how long they’ll be? I have been stuck here for ten minutes. They obviously want us to know each other and I don’t think they’ll let us out without answers. Besides, it will be a nice way to pass time.”

“Didn’t I ask you to die?”

“How about I start!” He said, ignoring my pleas and leaning back on his cube. He seemed to be either enjoying himself or enjoying that I was dying.


I didn’t want to “get to know him”. I already knew him! And what I did know I did not like. I mean, how can he be my tremendously bad seeker and brother to my sister’s boyfriend, and Albus Potter, and not know him?

“Well, my name is Albu – Al Potter...”

I rolled my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall. “No use, Al, your name is Albus. Everybody knows you name is Albus. The staff knows your name is Albus. The Firsties know your name is Albus, and pretty much everybody else is aware of Albus Severus...”

“Fine! Fine, alright!” Al pouted, and I cheered on the inside. As displayed countless times before, I really do enjoy aggravating the kid. “My name is Albus Severus Potter, I am a Slytherin sixth year, and I’m pretty damn sexy.”

“I beg to differ. Keep going.”

Al snorted. “Oh, please! You are just saying that to not look bad. You know that I’m smoking hot gorgeous. You are always getting lost in my eyes.”

I cackled. “So not true!”

“Yes so.”

“No so.”

“Yes so.”

“No so.”

“Yes so.”

“No so.”

“Is Noso starting to sounds like a great name for the Great Squid to you?” Al mused, nibbling on his lower lip and looking with his green eyes to the horizon. The brooding thinker was a good look for him that totally fooled people into thinking he was smart and sensitive.

I tried not to stare too much.

“Not really,” I coughed, looking away to my suddenly very interesting nails (damn, one was jagged. Again, they were sooo paying for my next manicure). I could feel Al’s green gaze on me and the fact that he just called me out about the other day in the common room when Arlene had acted as his crony had me slightly jumpy. But it’s not my fault! His eyes are green. I have a much known weakness for light eyes. Just back in detention, with Bart! Shit, they were so blue. And sometimes, when I tune out of Scorpius’ stupidities for a while and just concentrate on his image, I can sit still like a statue while I drool at his grey eyes. So it’s not my fault at all, alright? His eyes are very, very green and he insists on holding my gaze while on a place with great light. And there’s just this way he looks at me – this way that makes me look back and have some squiggly thing moving inside my stomach, just a way where his eyes burn with intensity into mine, not so much liek Bart before, because that’s all fake, but real. I’m human. There is a reason I was watching his surprisingly chiselled abs like an idiot the other day under his bed. “I mean, I always imagined the squid to have a name more like... Otto.”





“The squid’s not a girl!”

I raised an eyebrow and eyebrow and turned to give him one of my hardest captain stares. “That’s what it wants you to think.”

“Yeah. Sure. You are mental.”

“This bloody school is mental!”

“So let’s flee!” Al proposed, jumping off the bucket and dropping to his knees in front of me. He grabbed my hand. “Let’s flee away from here were they can’t find us and make us insane too!”

There was something in his stare. There was something in his stare (maybe it was the light, it sucked in this cupboard) and the way his hair fell slightly over his lashes that reminded me that I was Ari Wood, he was Al Potter, and I didn’t like him. And so I said, “No.”

Al sighed and stepped back.

Oh, you better, Potter.

“Well, so the squid’s a girl. Anything else I should know?”

“Err... cats don’t wear pyjamas.”

Al blinked, bewildered. “What?”

I sighed, stretching my legs out and biting my lower lip. How can I talk to him when he doesn’t know what I’m on about? It’s frustrating! “You know, like when they say ‘cat’s pyjamas’ or ‘bee’s knees’ and apparently they are oh-so-important?”

Al knitted his eyebrows but nodded. “Yeah.”

“There you go. Cats don’t wear pyjamas so they can’t possibly be all that its cracked up to be. I mean, how great would it be to be a cat’s pyjamas? I think it would pretty much suck.”

Al blinked.

“You know I’m right,” I replied, arching my eyebrow in cocky response.

“No, I know you are weird.”

“Please, you love me.”

“Yeah, I do,” Al sighed and suddenly made extreme eye-contact with me.

I looked. I couldn’t help it. I just had to gaze into his eyes. They were so green –and they held a power of sorts that no one knew. As soon as we started staring at each other it was like our eyes (both green, different shades) had connected with a fine, magnetic ray of light, and nothing we did could break it. We could look away, yeah. But it was hard. He was just right there, you know. And his eyes were so, so green. That’s the type of green I wished my eyes were. But they are just a murky forest at night colour that is neither pretty or that attractive. I blame my mother for her genes.

He was just right there.

I was barely acknowledgeable of the fact that, after proposing we “flee”, he was now sitting on the floor with me. I just watched his eyes as they shuffled closer and closer, every time getting bigger and swirler, and oh, so green, when it suddenly hit me that he was just right there.

Al was just right there, sitting in front of me, our knees knocking and legs (in criss-cross-applesauce mode) touching, and his face was there and it took over my whole panorama, and all the while he kept watching me, a strange expression in his face. Kinda like hopeful. Expectant. Careful. But I could not be sure, for the place was slightly dark and it was difficult to know. But he was right there, that much I had grasped.

He inched closer.

Then light poured in, filling the whole small cupboard and almost sending me blind. I stumbled back, blinking like and idiot and trying to squint out to the hall, were all the blurred spots and colours shifted into place, revealing four faces I didn’t really want to see right now.

Four fucking faces I fucking hate.

“Well, well, well, what do we got here?” Scarlett Donahue folded her arms across her massive chest, smirking at us with her big fat lips. “A couple of lovebirds taking advantage of a Saturday!”


“Wait, is that...” Philippa Brown frowned, and then stuck her head inside to see better. Her eyes widened as she finally recognized us and she stumbled back, her lips forming a shiny red O. “Albus Potter and Ariadne Wood locked alone in a cupboard?”

I just glared at them, hoping a radioactive spider would suddenly bite me and I could shot lasers out of my eyes, or real daggers now.

“What are you doing in a cupboard?” Philippa asked, her head cocked to the side and deeply dumbfounded. That was the first time I have heard her talk when it wasn’t bitchy and condescending.

“In a cupboard?” Claudia Spinelli swatted Philippa’s arm, practically in a cry of ‘that’s what you are asking? Get it together bitch!’ Still, her confused yet still bold tone did not have much effect since her voice is kinda slight and small. “What are they two doing together? She hates him!”

“I think we are missing the point!” Brigitta exclaimed, her curls bouncing as she looked between her best friends. “What are they two doing together IN a cupboard?”

You are missing the point, duckhead!” Scarlett sighed; exasperated that no one was as smart as she was. “They were five feet away from each other! You know, as in about to snog?”

Philippa’s eyebrows rose to her hair while Brigitta grumbled, “that was exactly my point.”

“What?!” Claudia blinked, shocked, and turned to look at us. They all did, a mixture of hatred and gentle, poise shock in their faces.

But someone was missing.

Quietly pushing through Scarlett and Brigitta, her long red nails clawing into each of the girls’ shoulders, Rose Weasley made her way inside the small semicircle that ingeniously prevented me from fleeing to freedom. She folded her arms across her chest, glaring inside at me and her cousin, and then asked with her low, sweet voice, “About to what?”

The Posse of Doom exchanged glances.

“Nothing, Rosie,” Al explained with a sigh, coming out from the cupboard and folding his arms as he stared at his cousin. The Posse of Doom exchanged more glances and took a slight step back – they knew better than to butt in when it was about Al and Rose. Some things are left to family.

But I know what it was – it was the shock of Al stepping up to Rose instead of running away and letting them torment me. Not that he was stepping up for me, at all (I would rather hex him than let him) but now that he was in the game, they could no longer play.

He was Albus Potter, after sodding all.

“Arlene and Bart locked us in here as a joke and you just let us out, so thanks for that,” he answered, pacing past her and forcing the Posse of Doom to split aside to let him go. “I will be going now, and so should you – I hear there’s some party in the Ravenclaw Common Room.”

And so, not even glancing back at me, he rounded the corner and was gone.

Five persons turned to me, their eyes small and mean.

You know, this is when I decide that I will kill Bart for taking my wand with him.

Rose’s cronies took out their wands, not wasting any time in pointing them at my head. She was the only one not to threaten me with a stick, but her blue eyes, all fiery and tiny as slits, were enough to even make me squirm a bit.

You know, normally I wouldn’t care – they are just sick bitches that try to be better than everyone and not worth my time – but there were five of them all armed and one defendless me.

Time to start caring.

“So leetle Ari Wood was in a broom cupboard with Albus Potter,” Philippa sing-sang, actually making me worry a bit. I mean, Philippa doesn’t sing-song. So it’s creepy she just did. I wonder why – maybe to creep me out.

Creeping achieved.

But then she stepped forward, and she looked like she’d rather pound me bloody than point a stick in my head. Still, she jammed her wand into my forehead and threw my head back, her tongue sneaking across her teeth into a scary grin.

Well, now she’s gone back to the bitch I hate.

“Just one thing, loser,” she spat, and I flinched (again, not because she scared me, but because she was jamming her wand into my forehead as if she wanted to trespass it all the way to the other side of my skull. It actually hurt). “You stay away from Albus Potter, alright? You are not good for him. You are just a scheming little bitch that better back off unless she wants bad things to happen.”

Claudia, Brigitta, Scarlett, and Rose took a step closer, tightening the half circle and achieving intimidation. I actually feared for my... well, not life. Maybe a limb. Yeah, that sounded right.

They left, leaving Philippa’s words thundering in my ears as my heart hammered in my chest. I ran all the way back to the Slytherin common room where they were not be able to reach me and scare me for the first time in my life, and instead thought up a plan of avoiding Al, forever.

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