(c) to Livilulu @ TDA

“I don't need a pretty poet
Ooh, getting all emotional
You got to beg for it, beg for it
If you wanna get the job, you better know who's the boss”
Get On Your Knees by Nicki Minaj ft. Ariana Grande


Godric, I’m sensational.

My name is Maxima Brankovitch and I am a bad-ass.

I was standing at the bathroom sink and smirked at my reflection in the mirror. When I heard a squeak behind me. I turned and saw two third year girls standing there, staring at me with large eyes.

“Yes?” I asked a bit annoyed.

They merely squeaked at each other, exchanging glances.

Children are irritating.

“Oh Merlin,” I rolled my eyes.

Arya Desai exited a stall and stood by me in the mirror. She gave the two girls a sideways glance, “You see the small people too, right?” She asked as she washed her hands.

“Unfortunately,” I drawled. I rolled my eyes and turned around, no third years were worth my time.

“I feel like I should change my hair,” Arya ran her fingers experimentally through her glossy, black hair. Her hair was straight as a board and she always kept it like that. I mean it didn’t look bad. It looked fine on her, but it was just the same old same old.

“You should dye it red!” The other girl who completed our trio said as she exited from the other stall.

“Ew, gross no Persephone,” Arya sneered.

“Hey, I had red highlights in third year,” I raised my eyebrow at Arya daring her to speak ill of it and, by extension, me.

“And you looked so fit with them,” Persephone nodded. “Not that you don’t look fit now,” she added quickly.

“Yeah, but honestly my parents would kill me if I dyed my hair any sort of color,” Arya said quickly, trying to backtrack. “And I mean you already did it, I wouldn’t want to copy you! I’d never live up to that,” she smiled at me.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” I laughed and rolled my eyes.

The other two girls grinned back at me and I fluffed my dark curls once more. I turned and found that the two third years were still hovering in the corner, watching us.

“If you’re gonna stand there and stare at us at least bring gifts or something,” I shook my head and led the way out of the bathroom.

Persephone and Arya flanked me as we walked down the corridor.

Many younger students said hey to me as they passed me, but I couldn’t give two shits about who they were.

So you might have noticed that I’m a bitch.

Oh yes, I wholly admit to it.

I am the biggest bitch since Regina George. I even have my own Gretchen and Karen (Arya and Persephone respectively).

I’m also very American which the chiefly British student body seems to think is “like so cool.” I’m one of the few non-British students. It’s like me, the two Krum kids (Bulgarian), Syrena Petrakis (Greek), and Daniela Ramírez (Colombian).

Most of the student body doesn’t like me and would love to see me crash and burn, like that could happen. I’m smart, athletic, pretty, and rich. I win either way, because even though people hate me, they love to dislike me, which is basically the same thing as being liked.

Okay enough of my mental commentary, it’s getting lame.

We entered the compartment and sat down, I had my own bench while Arya and Persephone settled in across from me.

“I don’t see how or why we have to wear these heinous school robes!” Arya was complaining. “Aren’t they a bit outdated?” She tugged on the hem of her own robes.

“That’s why I cut mine, so people can see my tights,” Persephone giggled.

“I just got mine fitted and specially made from black silk,” I motioned to my tightly cut robes. They hugged my figure graciously and sometimes I wore them open with clothes underneath. It almost always got me yelled at by teachers, but they never gave me detention.

“Well aren’t you just well endowed?” A drawling voice came from the door to our compartment.

I looked up to find Troy Clearwater standing in the door of our compartment, running a hand over his flat, black hair.

His mates flanked him: Chance Longbottom (President of the Dueling Club) and Lucas Harrington (Muggle sports extraordinaire).

Pause to explain the dynamics of the three boys.

Troy is hot, but as cocky as they come. Rumor has it that he slept with six girls in one night and three of them were prefects to boot. He’s a quintessential “Man’s Man” who drinks the best beer, sleeps with the best girls (well except for me of course), and is the best at sports. Troy is one of the exclusive handful of boys who are idolized at this school.

Chance isn’t very different. He has a hot body, but is lacking in the hair and face departments. He, however, is “the best dueler since Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore” as they say. He’s been taking advanced Charms and Transfiguration since second year, which lends him points, because Dueling is just behind Quidditch in the hierarchy of popular wizarding sports.

Dueling (with a capital D) is a sport that came into prominence in the years following Moldymort or Voldemort or whoever was killed after trying to commit genocide against Muggleborns. The veterans decided that they missed the dueling that they had seen in battles, so dueling clubs began popping up everywhere. Now they’ve grown into large competitive circles, and there are even international competitions. School Dueling Clubs even battle each other.

Chance is one of the best young duelers in the world (a title he won over the summer) and therefore gets points added to his “Date-Or-Hate” score. Longbottom’s issue is that he’s too nice. I dated him in fourth year and he treated me like a princess. He never argued with me, never so much as raised his voice at me, and it got annoying.

So I royally smashed his heart into a million pieces.

Luke, I didn’t know very well. He was some Muggleborn whose parents died in like second year and now he never talks. At least, I’ve never heard him speak. The Longbottoms adopted him, because he didn’t have any other family. I do know, however, that Luke is amazingly athletic and excels on all the Muggle sports teams. (Oh yes, Hogwarts has Muggle sports teams and PE now. I know. Bleh. Like gag me.) Anyways Luke’s cute I guess, but I just don’t look at him like that.

Okay intro over.

I looked at Troy with raised eyebrows, “Well wouldn’t you like to know?” I purred. My voice is not very feminine, but rough and gravely. I think it sounds super manly and sometimes cringe-worthy.

Chance said something in Troy’s ear and disappeared with Luke.

Troy merely ignored him as he broadened his grin, “Well Brankovitch, I’ll take a raincheck, you know I’m quite busy,” he winked, his dark eyes glinting.

“Oh, is that so?” I raised an eyebrow. “And what do you have to do, dare I ask?”

“Oh you know, I’ve got friends to see, places to go, among other things.”

“What friends?” I asked innocently.

“If you’re talking about James Potter, he’s probably to busy playing tonesil-tennis with Ana-Catherine to pay you much attention,” Arya piped up and I grinned at him.

Troy laughed, “C’mon, you know it’s not like that with AC and James.”

“You’re just in denial because you don’t want anyone else touching your boyfriend,” I teased.

“You’re just mad because I’ve never gone for you,” Troy shot me a smirk that mirrored my own.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night Clearwater,” I threw my hair off my shoulder in fake nonchalance.

“I’ll see you around, Brankovitch,” he turned on his heel.

“Maybe you will,” I called after him.

He grinned at me and shut the door behind himself.

“Oh my Merlin! He’s so hot!” Persephone pretended to fan herself. “You and him would be such a power couple!” She grinned.

“Me with a Clearwater?” I raised an eyebrow. “They’re new money though…” I drifted off. “I thought that we learned our lesson about violating the Only Sleep With New Money Rule.”

“Oh yes, after the Weasley epidemic of 2020,” Arya nodded her head vehemently.

In 2020, so like fourth year, Arya dated Fred Weasley (he’s a Weasley, need I say more?), I dated Chance (whose parents are in the Weasleys’ inner circle), and Persephone dated James Potter (he’s half a Weasley, even though the Potters have been upper-middle class for years). And it ended disastrously all around.

Fred humiliated Arya by cheating on her with an older girl and then dating McCartney Luck right after. Arya didn’t get over Fred until that summer when she had a fling with a cabana boy at her family’s place in Spain.

Persephone and James ended amicably after Persephone’s parents caught them hardcore making-out in the boathouse of the Maclean Summer Estate in Wales. Sep’s father was furious, because it was before a sailboat race and so all of his rich, business friends went in the boathouse to take a peek at his fancy sailboat, but instead find Persephone and James all over each other.

Mr. Maclean is just lucky that the two were clothed.

“Don’t even remind me,” I rolled my eyes.

“Sometimes I kinda miss James though,” Persephone sighed her blue eyes becoming nostalgic and wistful.

“Sep, you see him everyday,” Arya rolled her eyes.

“I mean that I miss his lips, he was a very good kisser,” Persephone defended herself. “I like good kissers!”

“Which is your first mistake,” I smirked. “You always go for the money first, not the lips or the style or the looks. It’s money, looks, popularity, style, and then lips.”

“So that’s why you like me,” a drawling voice caught my attention.

I looked up to see JT Desai and his friends, Gryffin Masterson (twat of the century), Andrew Wood (Quidditch psycho), and Ky Shacklebolt (he’s alright), enter our compartment.

“JT,” I grinned and stood up. He wrapped his arms around my waist and hugged me tightly.

“Well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine today?” He raised a dark eyebrow.

“I’m always a ray of sunshine! I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I grinned as I pulled him to the back of the compartment.

JT and I were absolute best friends. He was Arya’s older brother and we’ve known each other for years. We had this on-and-off, fuck-buddy, no-strings-attached arrangement that was a complete secret.

I didn’t date JT for many reasons.

One: it would ruin Arya and I’s friendship. (The Desai family takes family loyalty to a level equal only to the Corleone family from The Godfather movies.)

Two: I always ended up hating or being annoyed by the boys I dated.

Three: JT is the type of guy you keep around to take to all your family functions as your date so you can impress people.

Four: JT is just as good at The Game as I am.

The Game being the everlasting cycle of love, hate, and heartbreak.

“I saw a funny little story in the tabloids about you,” I looked up at JT as we sat down. He slung his arm along the top of the seat above my head and elegantly crossed his legs.

“Oh did you now?” JT smirked at me, batting those long lashes in my direction.

“About you and a certain blonde Slytherin…” I drifted off, raising my eyebrows.

“Who Artemis?” JT asked lazily.

“The very one,” I nodded.

“We met at the Puddlemere-Cannons game,” he shrugged. “We started talking and I took her out. Is that a crime?” He raised his eyebrow at me challengingly.

“Maybe there is,” my lips twitched, “Nott’s a bitch.”

“Maxima,” JT’s eyes narrowed. “Artemis is probably the nicest person on this planet.”

“Jakob,” I sneered, using his real name, “I’m a girl, I know these things.”

“You say everybody’s a bitch, so it doesn’t make you look as bad,” Twat Extraordinaire, Gryffin Masterson grinned at me, his brown eyes glinting maliciously.

I turned to him, “If I’m such a bitch then you can fucking leave, Masterson. Nobody asked you to be here.”

He just grinned as he ran a hand through his brown, quaffed hair, “I’m just stating facts.”

I just rolled my eyes at him.

I didn’t like Gryffin. Not that I liked a lot of people, just especially not Gryffin. He was a little shit who took enjoyment out of making people uncomfortable.

The only reason he ran with JT was because they were roommates and because the Masterson’s were the largest producers of petroleum oils this side of the Atlantic.

Which means that Gryffin may be a little shit, but he’s a rich-as-hell, little shit. Who is also decently attractive if you liked scrawny twigs who had large foreheads. (I’m just stating facts.)

“Well how about you go state facts elsewhere?” I glared at him.

“I quite like it here,” Gryffin had his arm slung around Persephone’s shoulders and she giggled as he cuddled her closer.

“Well nobody likes you here,” I snapped.

“Whoa down girl,” Gryffin put out a hand in front of my face.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a damn dog, Masterson. I’ll rip that pretty little bowtie off your neck and stuff it down your throat.”

“Ouch,” was Gryffin’s mocking reply.

“Gryffin,” JT silenced him with a steely look. “Max is my friend too, why don’t you give her a break?”

Gryffin merely grinned at me, “Because Maxima knows she’s being a shit-ass and I’m the only one who will say it to her face.”

“Gryffin!” Arya gasped.

I stood up abruptly just as Arya leapt to her feet, ushering him out the door before I could throttle the little prick.

“Come on Gryffin, let’s go get some food!”

“I’m going to join them,” Andrew Wood got to his feet. Wood was a burly fellow with an unhealthy Quidditch obsession. This obsession stemmed from his father’s relentless training and preening for his son to be captain and Wood’s own love of the sport.

Wood ran with us, because of his father’s position in the Quidditch world.

I didn’t find Wood very attractive with his pale skin, a jaw the size of Texas, and a forehead to match. His brown eyes were always serious and his black hair looked like he just rolled out of bed.

He was cuter than Gryffin by a long shot though, because Wood had a sexy body.

“Me too,” Ky Shacklebolt stood up. “We’ve got a prefect meeting soon as well Maxima.”

With that he inclined his head and disappeared out the door.

Ky was tall and muscular like Wood, with light brown skin and black hair that was close cropped to his skull. Where Wood had sharply planed features that jutted out at pointed angles, Ky’s features were rounded, but prominent, giving off a more inviting look.

Ky was in our group, because his father was Minister for Magic. He was also a seventh year prefect and Head Boy. He was more than happy to turn a blind eye for us as long as no one got hurt.

An awkward silence shrouded the room as my eyes bounced between JT and the still remaining Persephone.

I glared at her, but she was oblivious as she stared at her phone screen.

Persephone looked up when I kicked her shin.

“Ow!” She yelped. She then looked between JT and I before blushing, “I’m gonna go get some food as well.”

Her blonde hair bounced after her.

I turned to my phone and saw that the picture I put on The Gram (otherwise known as just Owlstagram to basic bitches who have no creativity) had gotten over three hundred likes.


The post was a picture of me, Sep, and Arya on the platform. I looked pretty amazing, but Arya was squinting a little.

I trolled around on the site, stalking random people’s profile and judging them.

Who even still takes selfies by themselves?

Gross. That is so 2010s.

“I’ll like that,” I consented looking at a picture that Ariadne Selwyn put up. She was in a compartment with a lot of her friends: Aleksander Krum (I swear there’s something going on between him and Ariadne), Vincent Goyle (and with him was his girlfriend, McCartney Luck), Benjamin Flint (and his girlfriend, Dominique Weasley), Lennox and Blaise Zabini (Blaise’s girlfriend Lana Brighton was with him), Amory and Artemis Nott (Artemis is a bitch and Amory's a stoner), Silas Avery (he’s loaded out his ears, old pureblood family), Knox Warrington (who was Ariadne’s cousin), Scorpius Malfoy (he’s a Malfoy, enough said), and Zära Winthrop (Gryffie slut who weaseled her way into the preppy groups and fucks married men “allegedly”).

Ariadne’s location was: on fleek and the caption was: the squad reunited, pretty basic, but I’ll let it slide.

They were our Slytherin-brother group (with the exceptions of the girlfriends and Zära Winthrop, who is just a Gryffindor slut who only got in the preppy groups, because her parents were old money in the jewelry industry).

Ariadne and I were considerably good friends. We bonded over our hatred of other girls, natural bitchy attitudes, and opposition to the patriarchy, but because of the first two reasons we couldn’t spend loads of time together or we’d end up killing each other with brutal, Game of Thrones-level gore.

And then Hogwarts would grieve tremendously, because two of its hottest girls just brutally murdered each other.

In retrospect, I bet some Slytherins would be turned on by that…

Okay I just made it weird…

Now I have this revolting mental picture of some slimy, Slytherin git jerking off to me and Ariadne killing ourselves by beating each other with pairs of Louboutin heels.

They say the mind is a dark place and I’m fairly certain they’re correct.

“You’ve been staring at that picture for about five minutes now,” JT’s voice reclaimed my attention.

“Don’t interrupt my internal monologue, jerk,” I snapped at him testily.

“Ouch, what’s with the cold shoulder?” He raised an eyebrow at me.

I usually never got pissed at JT. I mean it happens, because I get pissed at everyone every now and again, but usually never JT.

“I’m not giving you the cold shoulder,” I insisted.

JT pulled me in closer to his side and I could smell his cologne.

Damn he smelled amazing.

“What’s wrong, Max?” He asked me gently.

JT was one of the few people who were allowed to call me Max.

If anyone else so much as tried to call me that I tended to use the Langlock jinx in a free-wheeling manner that resembled Bellatrix Lestrange’s use of the Cruciatus Curse.

“Nothing, JT, just shut up,” I snarled.

“Look you can either tell me now, or later I’ll just get you drunk and make you tell me,” his dark eyes were teasing, but his expression was serious.

I tried to keep a straight face, but began laughing in spite of myself.

That was one of the infinite reasons JT was my favorite person on this planet.

“I just don’t think Artemis Nott is good enough for you,” I argued. “She’s a two-faced snake who everyone thinks is this goddess always bestowing love on all her worshippers,” I faced him. “Next thing you know they will be sacrificing second years on the Quidditch Pitch in her honor!”

“Are you opposed to pagan worship as a whole, or just the worship of Artemis?” JT was just playing along, humoring me.

“Oh Godric! Shut-up JT!” I snapped at him and faced the other way.

“Max,” he pleaded, “look I’m sorry, dear.”

“Cute, but that apology sucks ass.”

“Whatever will I do without your wonderful commentary? Maxima Astrid Brankovitch please speak to me!” He literally got on his knees and groveled in front of me.

I just rolled my eyes.

“I’ll buy you a new dress from that expensive boutique you like in Hogsmeade.”

I turned to him with a beaming smile.

He merely smirked.

“Aw JT, you’re the best,” I threw my arms around him and hugged him tightly. I kissed his cheek and he climbed back into the seat beside me. “Nothing cheers me up like retail therapy.”

“Yeah, my wallet knows all too well,” JT tried to glower at me, but ended up grinning anyway.

“Your wallet needs to lose some weight anyway,” I winked at him.

“You’re going to be the end of me, Maxima Brankovitch.”

I just grinned at him, “That’s what they all say.”

Chow [mein], fellows!

I hope you are all doing well on this fine [almost] summer day!

Oh and because I forgot this on the last chapter, DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything that you recognize ever in all chapters including future ones! (I'll probably forget to put it again)

A massive thank you to my beta Lizzie, you're a very nice lady to beta my story and put up with me!

With her help, I will be getting these next chapters out ASAP!

Thank you guys for reading! Review if you can/want to!


Maxima Brankovitch is portrayed by Phoebe Tonkin (She's the pretty lady in the CI)

Arya Desai is portrayed by Alyssah Ali

Persephone Maclean is portrayed by Lindsay Ellingson

Troy Clearwater is portrayed by Bob Morley (He's the smoking hot fella in the CI)

Chance Longbottom is portrayed by Tyler Hoechlin

Luke Harrington is portrayed by Tyler Posey

Jakob Tarquin "JT" Desai is portrayed by Zayn Malik

Gryffin Masterson is portrayed by Andrew Garfield

Andrew Wood is portrayed by Josh Hutchinson

Ky Shacklebolt is portrayed by Michael B. Jordan

If there's anyone I missed then you can ask me in a review, because I'm too lazy to go back and check in full. Hehe sorry!

Anyways in the next chapter: McCartney returns to narrate the last bit of the train ride and the carriage ride. Llamas are taking over the kitchens apparently and the huge school announcement is discussed. (Spoiler alert it's not the Triwizard Tournament, no matter how many conspiracy theories Dom manages to come up with.) The Sorting takes place and then "the Anti-Christ" makes an appearance.

See ya next time folks! *tips top hat*

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