Lucius isn't moved by he fury in her eyes, his own still cold and pale. He comes to the conclusion that she's definitely Confunded, probably from some sort of prank. Parry has Confunded people before, but Lucius has been looking the other way since it's been Hufflepuffs. But she shouldn't be doing it to other Slytherins.
"Yes," Lucius says, "Of course. We'll go to Headmaster Black." He very pointedly turns around, gesturing her in front of him so she can't bolt. Lucius still intends to lead her to the Hospital Wing. Whatever it is, it's absolutely spell damage, and Headmaster Dumbledore probably has better things to do. Lucius generally tries to avoid contact with him, he's not nearly as accommodating as Headmaster Dippet was.
Frustrated and bewildered by the day's events thus far, Irascibel finds herself marched to the Hospital wing with the Prefect watching closely all the way. As they walk, she establishes that all the students, all of whom are unrecognizable to her, are wearing that strange uniform. Even stranger still is that the girls are wearing short skirts without wool stockings and they are showing their legs. Suddenly Irascibel feels like she sticks out like a sore thumb with her overly modest attire, a feeling made worse by the fact that students are definitely staring at her.
Then, they walk into the Infirmary, which does not look anything like it should, or at least how she remembers it looked. The beds are different, as are the dividers. Everything is more utilitarian. More to the point, Irascibel can't say she's ever seen the lady standing there tending to a bedridden student.
"Where is Nurse Blainey?" Irascibel demands, putting her hands on her head as the gravity of her situation begins to sink in. "No, no, no. What is happening right now."
In Sixth Year, Irascibel received a letter from home informing her that she was to attend a formal ceremony, where she would be formally engaged to Marvolo Gaunt one weekend over the winter holidays and married after graduation. Irascibel, having feared this for a very long time, went to the Hogs Head in a self-destructive spiral. No one at school knew where she'd gone, she did not attend any of her classes that day, did not show up for meals, and could not be found anywhere in the castle.
Anne received an owl from Sirona Ryan saying that a few patrons had found Irascibel unconscious with an empty bottle of Firewhisky on the outskirts of the village, all during a rain storm. Anne, Sebastian, Ominis, and Imelda went to bring her back from the Three Broomsticks, at which point she had woken up, and took her to Nurse Blainey, who gave her a Sober-Up potion. Irascibel started crying, had a panic attack, and could not be consoled or calmed down. She was kept in the infirmary overnight because she had a high fever and Nurse Blainey wanted to keep her calm through the use of potions.
Ominis was also very upset by this whole affair, and when he went to try and comfort Irascibel, he mentioned that his parents had also sent him a letter saying they were searching for potential matches. He said he understood how she was feeling, but Irascibel snapped back at him that he did not. Irascibel told him, in no uncertain terms, that he would be the head of his household in an arranged marriage, while she would be a servant, an object, and likely victim of Marvolo's rage. Ominis left her bedside then, because she did not want to talk to anyone.
Four weeks later, one Friday evening, Irascibel was summoned to Headmaster Black's office. She did not know that her parents, Nereus and Joanna Gaunt, had arrived in a carriage and had asked the Headmaster to help them secure Irascibel. When Nereus and Joanna walked into the office, Irascibel panicked and pulled her wand out, but she was quickly subdued. Nereus cast Imperio on her so they could walk out of the castle without causing a scene. All her friends watched as she walked out calmly in front of her parents, and they were all quite confused as to why Irascibel was going willingly.
She was under Imperio for the entirety of the ceremony, and was photographed beside Marvolo Gaunt on the front page of the Daily Prophet. After, she returned to Hogwarts as Marvolo Gaunt's fiancee, but her spiral continued, now supplemented by rage. She drank, smoked, slept with every girl who was willing, stayed up late studying, distanced herself from her friends, displayed bitterness towards Elvie Fortescue as punishment for their break-up, and often made her cry. Eventually, Elvie slapped her in the face in front of everyone and told her to stop feeling sorry for herself.
It's also worth noting that Irascibel's Bogart takes the form of a gilded cage in the first few years of her time at Hogwarts, but turns into Marvolo Gaunt in Sixth Year.
˜”*°•. Useless . It was the useless spells that they usually learned . Spells like Depulso or transforming a book into a rat . What about the useful spells ? The ones that helped one survive when face to face with the danger ? The ones that shielded her against all lurking in the shadows ? And then , the wandless magic also laid on the table . They were nothing without wands - dependent on something that could be taken away so easily with a mere Expelliarmus - , and yet not even in the final year did a single professor show them how to do it . There were so much that he wanted to learn , so much that none at this school was going to teach them . So , when he heard about the Gaunt’s achievements , he’d grown intrigued, impressed .
❝ Exploding head charm ? I think it would be rather violently . ❞ Messy too - thought that was left for himself , though . He didn’t know . Couldn’t tell what kind of spell would he have liked to make if he’d even been given the chance . But he needed to try - even if it’d be something rather ordinary , rather silly , he had to do it at least once . And then … well, then he would move to something more complicated perhaps.
❝ Do you think you could teach me ? A spell making Gryffindors grow donkey tails sounds about right . ❞ He joked .
"Okay, yes, I could try to teach you, but first, why are we giving Gryffindors donkey tails?" Irascibel inquires. "What did Garreth and Leander do to you this time?"
Boys will be boys, Irascibel thinks. Granted, she's been on the receiving end of the Gryffindors' stupidity on more than one occasion, but they've been accidents for the most part because they're too afraid of her to do anything deliberately. But the boys, they seem to take great joy in doing terrible things to each other, and giving Sebastian another weapon for his arsenal seems like a bad idea.
Truly, she wasn't sure what she'd been expected to hear from the other witch at the mention of her Lord. If Irascibel knew anything about the underground rebellion against the Ministry of Magic, surely she would have joined the cause by now? It wasn't typical for a pure-blood to distance themselves from others of their kind if favor of... others. Though she supposed her own sister had left the family for a muggle herself.
Bellatrix tended to pretend that sister no longer existed.
"Watch your tongue," she hissed, pulling her wand from inside her cloak though she resisted in pointing it at her. "You do not want to cross him or he will make an example out of you."
Irascibel exhales one exasperated sigh and shoves her hands in her robe pockets. It's high time for a cigarette, she thinks, pulling out a half-empty packet with her antique silver lighter. If there is any fear in the Gaunt witch, she does not show it, though the tension between them is palpable and Irascibel has heard from others that Bellatrix Lestrange will make good on her threats.
"Alright, listen," Irascibel says before stopping to light her cigarette. "You want to go for a drink and talk, instead of resorting to mindless violence?"
Lucius looks deeply unimpressed. "Don't make this harder than it has to be," he says. He doesn't want to look at her book, about to put his foot down. Yes, it's certainly a Gaunt, and the date is 1891. "Congratulations," Lucius drawls. "You found a very old book. You're still out after curfew."
He's starting to strongly suspect someone Confunded her as a prank. Probably some of the Gryffindors, they're always causing problems. Lucius decides that they need to go to the Hospital Wing in case something more serious is going on. He'll get to bed late tonight. "Come with me, Gaunt."
Irascibel is so frustrated by the Prefect's refusal to accept her very name that there is steam practically coming from her ears. She snatches back her book and stuffs it back in the satchel, never breaking eye contact with the other Slytherin. The thought crosses her mind that she might cast Immobulus on the Prefect and run away, but she quashes it before it can come to anything, lest the day become even more eventful than it already has been.
"Alright, fine, let's take this to Headmaster Black," Irascibel says, stepping closer to the Prefect as if to challenge him. "Then we'll see who is making this harder than it has to be."
The Nocturne: The Rise.
There is a darkness which has tormented you, and the genius lament burdens you, but fear not... you are the pull of the tide and the light of the moon on a winter path. You are the soft notes which increase in intensity till the pianist pours over the keys with such passion it can only bring tears to your eyes. You cannot do things halfway though you yearn for it, and you envy those blessed with blissful ignorance, but in the end, you know you'd not have it any other way -- you are the rise they are afraid of till they cannot look away. Your song: Nocturne in C Minor by Chopin
"EWWW! STOP, IRASCIBEL GAUNT!" she screams, refusing to look up her friend's nostril. "You're such a liar! Even spiders know better as to enjoy some peace and quiet!"
"What, you don't want to look up my nostrils?" Irascibel exclaims, putting on a rather dramatic expression of faux dismay. "Well, I suppose if I inherited bad nostrils instead of a propensity to go insane from my family, that's a win in my book. Right?"
She takes a sip of her tea and leans forward with her elbows on the table. Well, back to the drawing board, Irascibel thinks. Perhaps it would be worth looking through some muggle textbooks.
Well, that was that she supposed. She considered still climbing up to help with cornering the kneazle, but worried if that would just work against the two if the kneazle was alerted by one of them whilst the other was trying to nab them. Still, looking at the state of the other’s broom made her a tad weary on the method, though perhaps the unusual markings were the very reason it might work. She really hadn’t expected this turn of events. Whatever happens, it was going to be a strange story.
The question earns a laugh from Greenlee. Given she had a knack for such a thing even in the muggle world, she couldn’t really argue with her. Especially since that penchant for risk taking had only seemingly increased with her time in Hogwarts. The pursuit of whatever piqued her curiosity superseded rational risk evaluation.
“Hmm, you’ve got me there,” Greenlee replied, “How about this— it’ll take me longer to climb up than you to fly up, so why don’t you keep the kneazle’s attention while I climb up from the other side of the house to sneak up from behind to capture it before it realizes I’m there… or get injured trying. It’ll be a team effort then.” At this point, her motives were a mix of wanting to contribute since it had started as her task as well as an attempt to not miss out on the calamity of it.
"Then, consider me your accomplice, Buchanan," Irascibel says with a wild smirk.
As she has done hundreds of times before, she brings her broom up steadily, with practiced ease, until it hovers several feet above the ground. Just to be safe, Irascibel also pulls her wand out of her robe and places it between her teeth. Never know when it might be needed, and she'd rather not be caught on someone's rickety roof with a grumpy Kneazle and no wand.
Irascibel takes her broom up above the chimney, whereupon she locks eyes with the Kneazle. The reaction she receives is less than pleasant, and the glare tells of a deeply irritated creature. She swallows her nerves, slowly, without any sudden movements, removing her wand from its place between her teeth.
"This one is no going to be very receptive to being captured," Irascibel calls softly down to the Ravenclaw. "Might end up ripping both of us to shreds before we have a chance to fall off this roof. Ooo, it's gonnae be thirty points from Slytherin, and thirty points from Ravenclaw, darling.
"Oh, that's fine. I've been here for so long I think I've become fused to the floor," Irascibel says from where she's sitting beneath the library desk.
There are two exceptionally tall stacks of books, one on either side of the witch. Every book pertains to the subject of Arithmancy, a subject Irascibel has now come to curse with every fibre of her being. She just can't make head nor tail of it, even after sixteen hours of reading. Irascibel rubs her eyes with the backs of her hands, then rakes her fingers through her disheveled hair.
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