A Circle of Flame- Sirius Black x OC

Chapter 3

Liza frowned at the empty spot in the center of the Gryffindor table. Four golden plates gleamed, each without a speck of food and their usual boisterous owners. The sight was foreboding. "The Marauders aren't here."

"Who cares?" Myra didn't look up from where she was prying a bit of chicken from its leg, the juice squirting between her fingernails. The girl rarely ate at the best of times. "If anything, it means my hair will retain its natural colour and not sport an emerald green."

The frown didn't leave Liza's brow as she thought of her brothers. When she had entered Hogwarts, she had mistakenly believed that her years of being tormented were nearing an end. Then, she realized that James Potter was in her year. "It means they're up to-- ."

A loud crash signaled the opening of the oak doors to the Great Hall. The ancient handles slammed into the stone walls on either side. Liza's suspicions were confirmed.

All around her, the Slytherin table erupted into cries of outrage as a series of red and gold streaks hurtled through the air. The fireworks fizzled with smoke, searing the food on their plates before exploding into colorful bursts.

"MAY WE PRESENT: THE FORGOTTEN LORD OF THE CASTLE!"

Liza rolled her eyes as she turned her attention back to the entrance. From several paces away, Regulus was occupied trying to swat out the flames burning on his toast.

True to form, Sirius Black led the front of the pack and his arm linked with James as they strode into the hall. She bit her lip to keep from grinning. Each of the boys sported a pale blonde wig. The silken locks hung in the perfect imitation of Lucius Malfoy. Below, Sirius had pinned a pink tutu about his waist. Each ruffle flounced as he pranced down the center aisle.

To the scatter applause (largely from the Gryffindor table) James bowed, a difficult feat in his point-toe shoes. Sirius spun into a rather wicked pirouette. It was a trick surely picked up from his days in the Black Manor. His knee spun in a graceful turn as he completed a series of rotations.

Behind the pair, Remus and Peter shuffled rather awkwardly and the latter nearly buried beneath the mound of artificial hair. Neither had tied on the tutu and Remus eyed his with a grimace. It remained clutched awkwardly beneath his right arm, looking more like a lopsided wing.

Professor McGonagall stood sharply from the staff table, her chair making a loud screech as it slid over the cobblestones.

"Evanesco!" With a wave of her wand, the professor attempted to dismiss the crackle of lights still blossoming over the Slytherin table. Instead of obeying her command, the fireworks multiplied and increased in ferocity, covering the table with gunpowder.

Liza narrowly resisted the urge to cover her ears as she pulled the collar over her robes over her nose. The thin fabric did little to ventilate the smoke. She didn't want to give the Marauders anymore satisfaction from her response.

"Detention!" the Head of Gryffindor pressed her lips into the thin line as the boys took their seats, clapping one another on their backs. There was no reason to call the Marauders out by name. At the very least, Liza was glad to see Remus had the good sense to look exasperated.

Sirius grinned up at the stern woman before giving her a devilish wink. Hs leotard was cut far enough to expose the darkening shade of chest hair below. The sight was revolting. "Only if it's with you, Min."

McGonagall didn't bother to respond as she returned to her chair, taking a large sip from her goblet. The faculty beside her had barely glanced from their plates. Flitwick was already exchanging some sort of news with Slughorn, his tone more of a high pitched squeak than comprehensible words.

Eyeing McGonagall has she took another draw from her goblet, Liza suspected it contained some sort of gin. It would certainly be her first choice as a Hogwarts professor.

"Gits," Myra clawed her hands through the air, dispersing a shimmering lion's head that had taken shape over her plate. Hesitant to be dismissed, the beast opened its jaws into a soundless roar. "Must have used a Gemino Charm. And the nerve to imitate Malfoy, of all people." Her tone betrayed the slight fear that accompanied his name.

Shoving a generous bit of pastie into her mouth, Liza tried to salvage what food she could from the center table. She didn't trust the Gryffindors not to ruin it before it entered her stomach. A bowl of mashed potatoes had already been coated in a thick layer of ash.

"You would think McGonagall would have learned by now to escort them to their seats." She tried not to think about what Lucius was up to these days. If the rumors were true, there was certainly more to his news than just upcoming nuptials. The Marauders were bold, but incredibly stupid.

"Oh please," Myra snorted, although the gesture was far more formal than Liza could have managed, "that hag secretly enjoys the attention. She would have our heads if we tried anything similar."

Not able to disagree, Liza turned towards the center of the Slytherin table. Regulus sat surrounded by Barty Crouch, Evan Rosier, and Cuthbert Nott. All traces of his earlier rage were gone as he threw back his head in a dark snicker. His companions exuded equally unpleasant expressions. "Well doesn't he look jolly," she remarked bitterly.

Myra grimaced, taking another slow sip of her pumpkin juice. The drink was normally reserved for breakfast and Liza still thought it was an odd choice for the feast. "Don't take offense. The Regulus those boys see is far from the real one." She nodded towards the pleased gleam in his silver gaze as Barty toasted in his direction. "That is nothing but an act."

"He could still say hello once in a while," Liza stabbed at a bit of her pudding moodily, imagining the white sludge was Regulus's face. "When was the last time he joined us at this end of the table? Third year?"

Myra pushed her plate away and folded her hands into her lap. A half-eaten chicken thigh and bit of roll remained. "Guess you'll just have to settle for just me."

"It's you and me against the rest," Liza nodded towards the sparse place settings about them. A few second years across from them shot her a nervous glance. They were also trying to avoid any unwanted attention. "Just don't understand why all the popular blokes get the center table."

Pulling back one of her many braids, Myra tilted her head. The thick coils shone beneath the candlelight. In their early years, Myra had been taunted for her array of hairstyles. They had been quickly silenced. The Slytherin had her own knowledge of the dark arts. "Tis the way of the world. Life's favourites get to laugh in the middle while the stragglers watch from the sidelines."

Liza blinked. "Well, that's rather depressing." She nudged Myra's shoulder. "Suppose someone has to knock them down a few notches."

The Slytherin simply stared down at the reflection of a torch in her goblet, giving no response. The pale light flickered in the glistening surface of the pumpkin juice.

Liza barely stifled her sigh. This was going to be a long year.