What is normal to the spider,
is chaos to the fly
or
In which Antares Kelly knew he would get tangled in the web of the Order of the Phoenix.
----------------
[THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX]
[BOOK ONE]
[MALE OC x UNDECIDED]
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The day was still early. Much of the castle was buzzing from the events of this morning's first Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch match. Antares himself got to watch the game from the Commentary Box, an experience only available to professors and, of course, Lee Jordan. As expected, it was a rough match, a good old-fashioned show of unsportsmanlike conduct. However, the most entertaining part of the match came after it ended— when Harry punched Malfoy in the gut.
And now, Antares leaned against the pale stone column outside the Gryffindor common room, smiling at the portrait before him. "Well, I can say that I've only tried a Superior Red once, my Lady. You are quite lucky to have a goblet of it with you at all times."
The Fat Lady grinned. "Oh, isn't it just wonderful? And to think, the original painter I commissioned to paint me refused to add it to my portrait."
"How odd," Antares said, raising an eyebrow. "Painters have enchanted worse. The portrait of Günther the Violent shows him—"
"Decapitating a man during a game of Stichstock, yes," the Fat Lady sighed into her goblet. "That is what I told him, yet he still refused to paint me with my wine. Apparently, it was 'improper for a lady,'" she mocked in a whiny tone.
Antares clicked his teeth disapprovingly. "If anything, that wine is a testament to your refined stature. A single bottle costs an arm and a leg."
Laughter bubbled up from the Fat Lady's lips. "If only the original painter had your appreciation for the finer things in life. Oh, you must meet my friend, Violet; she would love to hear your opinions on the vintages she received from Giffard Abbot."
As Antares was about to charm her once more, a flash of movement in the corner of his eye drew his attention away. Angrily barrelling up the stairs to the seventh floor was Harry, followed by an equally enraged Fred and George. The Slytherin smirked silently.
"Now that," Antares drawled, eyeing George, who sported a split lip, "was by far the most entertaining Quidditch match I think I have ever witnessed."
Harry scowled, his fists clenched at his sides. "Save it, Antares. I don't want to hear it."
Antares straightened, no longer leaning against the elegant stonework of the castle. "You misunderstand. I genuinely enjoyed watching you all brawl like a group of Muggle street thugs."
Harry's face softened slightly. "Malfoy deserved it," he muttered, his anger still simmering beneath the surface.
"Deserved it?" Fred seethed. "He practically asked for it. You didn't hear the things he was saying about Mum."
"I'll say," George nodded in agreement, wincing slightly at the stinging of his lip. "Giving him that bloody nose is my best work to date."
"Then remind me again why you were stomping up here like a bunch of rampaging erumpants?" the Slytherin asked, narrowing his eyes on Harry.
