Lazy troubles PV Detention Finished

Mari hadn't done anything wrong.

She refused to believe it, refused to accept that, about five minutes into her journey as the best fifth prefect that Hufflepuff House could ever have, the idiotic, selfish, evil Slytherin prefect Choi, the one who had made her prefect in the first place gave only her a detention! The whole thing was absolutely absurd; Mari had only pulled out her wand in self-defense, thought that Riddle had actually casted a spell of attack, and had only casted Tarantallegra again as a means of self-defense.

Not that Choi would believe that, anyway. She didn't seem to ever think she was in the wrong, with her and Riddle just barging into the Porcelain Palace like that and refusing to leave Mari's home. They had antagonized her to a point where even yelling at them hadn't knocked any sense into the duo. Riddle insulted her beautiful spitball, Choi wouldn't stop trying to take that cool locket that had to be Mari's since it ended up in the Porcelain Palace. Finders keepers, especially when you live in the place it was lost, am I right? Both of them were in the wrong.

And yet, Mari was the one with a detention.

She had the most perfect solution, though she was a bit ashamed to be protesting on one of her first few days on the job. When she owled her parents about the news that she was prefect, her mother had told her to keep her grades up so to be a good example and her father had said to make him proud. Mari knew both of her parents would say this, and Mari also knew that she would be disappointing her father in her decision to just skip the detention altogether, but she was a girl with morals and of all the pain and suffering she had had this year, she especially did not deserve this punishment.

The clock ticked closer and closer to D-Time, and Mari couldn't help but disappoint her mother, now, in failing to focus on her Charms work because she was scared of what was to come when she did actually skip that detention. Would Choi beat her up? She didn't really look that scary, but she was evil and Riddle seemed scared of her, so perhaps she was secretly a strongwoman or something. Maybe the reason she wanted that locket so badly was cause it was 1/2 of her nunchuk set or secretly unleashed Avada Kedavra when you opened it. With Choi, anything dastardly was possible.

Little did she know that Choi had forseen her plan, had known that she was going to try to escape. For a brief moment, Mari wondered if she was a Seer, aware of Mari's decisions before Mari, herself, was. She immediately ignored this thought; Choi was probably just evil enough to be the type to make the same decision as Mari.

The snake said Mari's full name, as if she was Mari's Mum and Mari was going to get a time out. Mari was instantly reminded of how disappointed her mum probably was in her and began to cry. As Choi dragged her closer to the Hospital Wing, Mari's sobs escalated in speed and intensity. She didn't want detention, she didn't deserve detention, who was the person who put damn Luna Choi in charge of her!

To make matters worse, Choi was taunting her, saying she was crying tears of joy. In what world were her tears joyful? Mari had many reasons to cry, because many awful things had happened to her, and she could speak from experience that none of those instances were of joy. Of course, Choi clearly had a wonderful family life, though Mari now realized she had never mentioned her family all those times Mari brought her own up. But if she thought tears could be joyful, she probably just didn't mention them because they were just as dull as she was.

They had made it to the Hospital Wing, and Choi even told Mari that she shouldn't try to escape. Mari's sobs intensified and she let out a low wail as she wondered what Choi was going to do to her. The Hospital Wing didn't have great memories for Mari, but it did heal her a few times, so she didn't want to make the neutral memories turn into negative ones. With Choi at the helm of her detention, though, Mari knew that the Hospital Wing was bound to be renamed the Horrible, Evil Chamber of Kindness (H.E.C.K). The name was a mixture of feelings, much like Mari would feel about it after this detention was over.

Even though Mari was sobbing, Choi didn't seem to care. She instead gave the instructions, offensively dumbing things down to Mari so much that she explained what a bedpan was. Mari didn't actually know what a bedpan was, but that was beside the point. The point was that Choi was clearly the next Lord Voldemort, making her deal with...poop. And no magic! Did she at least get a face mask? Otherwise her face might melt off from the stench of poo.

"Okay," she murmured, mid-wail. Maybe if she cried harder Choi would at least knock this down to 50, or something. As she walked over to the bedpans, she realized that hell would freeze over before that happened. But 100...who was she kidding, she'd never make it out.

One.

The bedpan greeted her with a horrendous stench. Mari looked at Choi, then looked back at the bedpan, and thought she might hurl. This is what she had to deal with? And this was the first one? She could sense the spite bouncing from all corners of the room, as if Luna Choi was an omnipresent figure and not just a big meanie. Mari took the rag provided, dipped it in the cleansing solution, and scrubbed. The stench may not have been gone, but...it was clean. She could only hope that they all didn't smell like this, or else she'd need a vomit bucket right next to the soapy water.

Two.

She was a Half-Blood, so she had cleaned before. That was the fact that Mari rested on as she experienced such humiliation. Mum and Dad hadn't told her that she had any magic in her blood, so she had always been stuck picking up her toys with her bare hands. She rested on the laurels of her muggle-cleaning knowledge, but it was in this moment, as she scrubbed a blue bed pan, that she realized she should probably teach Grace, her six-year-old sister, how to clean with magic. The Ministry wouldn't bust her, so long as she could argue that she was just an inexperienced with, right?

Three.

So far so good. All she seemed to need to do was think of Grace, Lucy, Mum, and Dad, and perhaps this would go by a lot quicker. Mari dipped the rag back in the water as she wondered if it was possible to teach Grace how to do magic without a wand. Could young witches control their magical ability like that? Perhaps she needed to ask a professor for guidance...but which one?

Four.

Mari was pretty mad at all the professors, so it would be hard to pick which one would be the most helpful. Though many of them were new, so she'd probably have to pick one of them. They probably knew of the tragedy that was the life of Mari Haynes, but she didn't expect them to approach her due to their newness. Mari didn't even know their names, though, she had been too busy sobbing in the Porcelain Palace when they had all arrived. Perhaps the History of Magic professor would be best? It was a magical theory question, after all...

Five.

Or perhaps her new Head of House, she pondered as she scrubbed a rusted bed pan. The Hospital Wing had so many of these pans, clearly, that it was a wonder they kept such a rusted one. Anyway, Professor Browne seemed to want what was best for her, saying he'd give her a special task and all that. But he had yet to contact her about that task. Maybe he was disappointed that she had earned a detention so soon? Couldn't prefects get detention? Choi certainly deserved one, being the nasty girl that she was, just reading a book and not helping Mari at all.

Six.

What task was Professor Browne planning on giving her, anyway? She had heard a rumor that he was dating the Flying professor; maybe he wanted to get her flowers? It had been such a long time since she had pranced in the flowers when...she scowled. Yes, that had been her first meeting of Choi, the day her life ended. Come to think of it, meeting Choi coincided so perfectly since the last time that Mari had enjoyed flowers that perhaps she just murdered all the flowers with her eyesight that day. It made perfect sense. Choi was the devil incarnate, to Mari. 

Seven.

Mari had counted on her fingers how many she had cleaned, even though there was no need to. It was a source of entertainment, counting on her fingers. It was also a source of nostalgia, nostalgia to the good old days of her youth, when she didn't know Luna Fartface Choi. Mari missed those days. Of course she loved Hogwarts, but Hogwarts, year one, had left a bucketload (bedpanfull?) of memories that she would be happy to leave this summer. Mari hummed ever so slightly a song from her childhood as she cleaned the seventh bedpan.

Eight.

There was a small mark of poop, and when Mari saw it, she thought she might die. Remember that nostalgia in bedpan seven? Yeah, right now she was nostalgic for five minutes ago. With her bare hands, Mari scraped the poop off, then looked confusedly at the chocolate filth on her fingers. Choi hadn't really told her what to do with this...and Mari wasn't about to ask her for help. So she did what a twelve-year-old would do, what Professor Browne had told many students to do: she used her brain. Her brain told her that the only logical thing to do was the put the poop in the cleaning solution. She didn't want to dirty up the Hospital Wing floor, lest Choi make her scrub that next...

Nine.

There. Crisis averted. What was she thinking about, again? Gosh, this would be much more interesting if Choi wasn't such a meanie and talked to her. Did Choi even have a personality, besides evil? 

She took a quick glance to the Slytherin prefect and took in the lavender-colored hair. Was she born with that? She must be wizard born, if so...or else she was a freak. To be perfectly honest, Mari hoped that she was a freak. But that wonder would have to wait; she had another pan to clean. 

Ten.

She imagined a world where Luna Choi was born to a nice, wizard-born family, but when they expected a pretty little baby they got a crying tomato with purple hair. "Good God!" Her mother must have screamed as she held that ugly cherub for the first time. "What happened to her hair!"

The doctor would pull Choi's father aside (he must have a prissy name, Mari decided, like Leonard) because her mother was full of drugs or something from birthing the weirdo. (Mari didn't know. What were boys? Babies didn't come from storks?). He would explain to her that the baby would be made fun of for the rest of her days, but as long as they loved her, she would still be a happy little girl. Leonard and Mama Choi kept that thought in mind as they drove away from the hospital.

Eleven.

Mari had spent far too much time on the tenth bedpan, so she snuck a glance at Choi to check that she was still reading before she rushed through the eleventh one. Pure chance allowed her to rush a bedpan that seemed fairly clean in the first place. This was the only time in Mari's recent life that she felt lucky.

Twelve.

Now, where was she? Ah, yes, the evolution of Luna Choi to the devil she was today. A tragic tale, but don't feel too sorry for her! She deserved it. Besides, even if she did, no story was as tragic as the tale of Mari Haynes. Mari wiped a tear with that still-bare hand before she resumed scrubbing her twelfth bedpan. 

Anyway, Leonard and Poopy (for that seemed a reasonable name for Choi's mother) Choi tried their hardest to raise the evil baby, but that child wouldn't stop crying. "That's it!" Poopy screamed one night. "Leonard! You need to deal with this!" 

Her eyes were sallow, she hadn't slept. The unfortunate part? So were Leonard's eyes. The two had suffered doubly, even though they only had one child. The only good thing about Luna Choi was that her parents taught her that gender stereotypes were a thing of the past.

Thirteen.

The rest of this girl? Well, there was nothing good about her. Mari knew that Choi's parents had tried, and she fought back a few tears as she thought of how horrible raising Choi must have been. She wouldn't actually cry, of course, because Mari knew that only she had a tragic story worth crying for. 

Besides, if she had actually sobbed, Mari would have thrown up, too. Bedpan thirteen rivaled number one in terms of odor. At one moment, she had to plug her nose as she scrubbed with the other. Seriously...she had to clean one hundred of these?

Fourteen.

As Luna Choi grew up, no one wanted to be her friend. Why? Because she was a freak. All the Muggle children at her school wondered how this girl had purple hair, but Choi didn't see what was so wrong with it. These kids made her angry. So, as a form of revenge, she spat in their food, tripped them, and even tried to give them detentions much like she was right now. Choi was a bully, there was no doubt about that. Leonard and Poopy were often called to the school offices; it would be behind these closed doors that the truth came out: they couldn't control their own child, they hadn't been able to control her since she was born.

Mari couldn't help it: a single tear rolled down her face. She felt sorry for Mr. and Mrs. Choi.

Fifteen.

They had another child to make up for their errors in giving Choi life. His name was - hm, Mari probably knew it at one point, Choi probably had revealed it when she had intercepted her letter or when she had made her prefect, then went insane and gave her detention, but Mari didn't know any more - Hungry. Why Hungry? His parents were hungry for more, hungry for a child who would actually do them proud, unlike Luna. Mari knew, as she scrubbed that fifteenth pan, that Hungry Choi couldn't have lavender hair himself, or else he would have been doomed to evil like Choi was.

Sixteen.

As she scrubbed the sixteenth bedpan, Mari lost her train of thought and instead looked at her hands. They were getting quite red. It was quite irresponsible of Professor Jensen to give this girl such power. Wasn't this slave labor? Did Jensen just not regulate prefects at all? Mari knew, as the fifth prefect of Hufflepuff, that there was a reputation to uphold. She would not become so corrupt with power like Choi. If Mari had to give a detention, she'd probably just make them give her a free therapy session. Seemed like a win-win: they were punished because they had to be pained with the tragedy that was Mari's life, Mari got some advice. 

Seventeen.

Her hand was bleeding, but Choi didn't seem to give a damn. It was interesting how water was supposed to be a necessity for life, soap was supposed to protect, yet the combination could lead to rawness. Her hand was as inflamed as her heart. She couldn't wait to go home and finally forget the woes of her first year: the lack of friends, the stabbing, the attempted kidnapping, this detention...

Eighteen.

Many students were buzzing about the upcoming summer camp, but Mari knew she would not attend. Why would she stay longer when her soul longed for home? Camping, BBQs, and swimming in the lake would be interesting, but nothing would be quite as fun as snuggling with her sisters. During the winter holidays, Mari had made Lucy and Grace promise they would do all the adventures they had planned last summer, before Mari went to Hogwarts. Mari had begun drafting the crafts they'd make (perhaps a pretend prefect badge for Lucy and Grace?), the trees they'd climb, the games of hide-and-seek...it all sounded like pure bliss.

Nineteen.

As for her parents, Mari missed them too. Ewan had really turned around this year, actually reading a few books about magic so he could relate to his daughter a bit more. His notes had gotten longer, and he even said that he wanted to talk over the summer about Mari's professors and all the things she had learned. Perhaps they'd find a nice café to chat in, Mari squealing about Bouncing Bulbs while Ewan listened with focus. Mari knew that the Statute of Secrecy was important, but luckily she still looked about nine...though she may have aged chronologically, her height had yet to catch up. The Muggles would merely think that she was a child with a wonderful imagination.

Twenty.

Isa was a different matter. Mari knew she was disappointed in her grades; she hadn't even forgotten to remind her of studying when she congratulated Mari on prefect. But Isa was a classic Ravenclaw, always focused on books rather than helping other people. No wonder she hadn't been a prefect, herself. Isa didn't quite have the social maturity that Mari had, even though Mari was quite a bit younger than her mother.

Twenty-one.

She wondered what house her father would have been sorted in, had he gone to Hogwarts. He cared about learning, he was very successful in his job as an accountant, but Isa was the more intense of the two. Even with his love of learning, Mari just couldn't place him as a Ravenclaw. 

The Hufflepuff snuck a glance at Choi, the sneaky Slytherin. Ewan was too easy to read to be a snake, cunning being one of the last words Mari would use to describe him. Besides, Isa hated snakes so much that she likely wouldn't have married a could-be Slytherin. Growing up with Slytherin family members had soured her impressions on the house. Mari quickly turned back to the purple bedpan before her, ignoring the growing pain of her raw skin as she thought further. This rag was getting dirty...

Twenty-two.

Mari grabbed a new rag and bedpan as she continued hypothetically sorting her father. She supposed he would likely be a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff. With selfish reasoning, she concluded that he was like her: a puff through and through. He was so loyal to her family, the perfect kind of father. Yes, Ewan had left Mari, Lucy, and Isa for a bit to live on their own, but he had come back...that didn't mean he wasn't loyal, right? 

A couple more tears drifted lazily downwards as she thought further about that time in her life. Mari didn't really like to think about life without Ewan; she never wanted to experience life without him again.

Twenty-three.

Needing a distraction from sad memories and the bedpans themselves, Mari decided it would be best to resume her telling of the tragedy of the Choi family. Now, the birth of Hungry had brought great joy to the Choi family, so much joy that they could overlook the fact that their firstborn had been such a failure. He was a handsome child; many adults would oogle over his perfectly-symmetrical features. When Hungry turned four, and Luna five, Leonard and Poopy decided that things were going so well that they could add another member to the family.

Twenty-four.

Mari smiled as she scrubbed this bedpan, thinking of the Choi's pet. She really wanted the best for the Choi family, especially since they had been cursed with the disaster of Luna Choi. The dog's name? Well, Hungry of course would name it, and Hungry was only four, so he probably chose something like Aaa. Pronounced "yay" without the ys. It was a nice name, though very common in the area the Chois grew up in. Hungry was a far better child than Choi, but he wasn't perfect.

Twenty-five.

Joy wouldn't exist in the Choi family for long: Luna was now seven, and she was a nightmare. Remember those bags that Poopy and Leonard had when Choi was an infant? They had never left. Mari instinctively felt the bags under her own eyes as she pondered this fact. She really felt a connection to the Choi family. Did they also prefer bloodied robes? Were they also averse to cleanliness? 

Twenty-six.

The bedpan that lay in front of her, now, was so unusual that Mari could not help but be distracted from the tale of Luna Choi. Someone had scratched the Hogwarts crest in it, and it was a work of art. Mari wondered in what world all these students would be so injured that they could not be healed instantaneously by magic. Yes, she had been unconscious for a little bit after she had been stabbed, but how in the world had so many people been injured to that degree that one hundred bedpans were needed? Furthermore, why the heck was the artist behind this bedpan unable to go to the bathroom himself? It clearly had been used, the stench of urine made her so dizzy that she thought the lion was moving.

Twenty-seven.

It was at this point that Mari lost some steam and began to sob loudly. "Why are you doing this to me?" she moaned as she looked at Choi. Choi, of course, would not respond because she was a big meanie. She was so predictable. Mari could probably write a book about her life because of this fact...oh wait, she basically was.

Twenty-eight.

Seven-year-old Choi was especially a nightmare because this was when she had begun to show magic. Now, Leonard and Poopy had to be fearful of their freak child who suddenly could breathe fire if she was angry, which was all the time. Thousands of pounds were spent fixing up charred bed frames, flamed rugs, and burnt chairs. The only plus to this stage of Choi's life was that she made a mean s'more. Granted, if she was breathing flames, she was probably in trouble - so Leonard, Poopy, Hungry, and Aaa would eat the s'mores while Luna faced a time out in her room.

Twenty-nine.

Ironically, the next bedpan looked like it it had faced a fiery beast of its own. Mari thought back to her  own flaming beast, that food poisoning with cheetos, when a couple flaming ones had snuck themselves into the pile that had tortured her so. It would need a bit more of a scrub, she decided, as she grabbed another fresh rag. The other one had turned red from Mari's bloody hand.

Choi herself probably had a fiery bedpan; she seemed the type to prefer to defecate in one rather than the normal toilet. After a year of Choi emitting fire every time she was angry, Poopy and Leonard began to wonder if their daughter was part dragon. Hungry himself had just displayed his first bit of magic, and all he had done was make a falling egg bounce without breaking. 

The duo took Choi to St. Mungo's to see if their suspicions were true. Ultimately, the Healers told the sobbing parents, it was just a really unfortunate first display of magic. They gave Leonard and Poopy a magical muzzle that they could use at home to stop the fire from burning down their house.

Thirty.

She didn't really try too hard on this one, even though it probably could have used some effort. Mari quickly scrubbed it while she thought back to the mysterious, Hogwarts-crested bedpan. 

Thirty-one.

It was at this point that Mari realized that she Choi must be a half-blood, because she was the freaky girl with lavender hair but Mari's story had brought the family to St. Mungo's. Whatever. When she got an editor to publish this genius story, they'd fix the plot holes. All that mattered was that Mari expose Choi for who she really was: a fartface.

Thirty-two.

The thirty-second bedpan was smaller than the others, and Mari wondered why. If Hogwarts had the power of the internet, she probably would have looked it up, but since she didn't, she would never know that it was a fracture bedpan. The flat end instead just confused her; Mari would be unaware that they are used for people who have suffered hip injuries. Perhaps if she did, she would have come up with a reason as to why Hogwarts had a fracture bedpan, maybe a freak encounter with Devil's Snare.

But she didn't, so that's where the story ends. Instead, Mari continued with her story once more.

Thirty-three.

The muzzle didn't do much because they couldn't use it at school, so the Chois had to pull Luna out of the Muggle education. That's why she spoke like such a weirdo, of course. She missed like four years of education! She was too scary to be homeschooled, so Leonard and Poopy just accepted that she would speak like a lavender-haired freak the rest of her life. Mari smiled as she scrubbed this bedpan; this seemed like a very plausible reason to explain why Choi had never learned how to talk like a normal person, with joy and general emotion.

Thirty-four.

Hungry, on the other hand, was thriving. He had gotten a few questions about where his sister went, but the cool seven-year-old typically answered the question by putting his hands in his pockets and shrugging. In response, the other kids would say, "We're so happy she's gone, she was weird. Why was her hair that color?"

Hungry would shrug some more, divert the conversation by talking about Aaa, and then go play football with his friends. He succeeded in school, achieving many perfect scores; soon, his verbal talents far exceeded that of Choi. Choi tried to catch up by reading, but she would get too angry that the words were too big for her, breathe a bit of fire, and char the book.

Thirty-five.

Mari took a moment to count what bedpan she was on with her fingers. It was at this moment that she wished she had one hundred fingers; it certainly would make all this counting easier. She counted to ten three times, then five, and with the last five she slapped the ground in despair. 

The slap was unnecessary and aggressive; now Mari was blessed with not only a bloodied hand, raw from scrubbing, but also a hand that throbbed from pain. If only she could use her fingers to figure out how many she had left...

Thirty-six.

The pain distracted her once more; Mari thought back to her family. She had told her parents about being prefect, but she had conveniently left out the detention. Of course, she had a good reason to leave it out: she hadn't intended on showing up in the first place. Once again, she cursed Luna Choi, AKA Lord Fartface, evil overlord of H.E.C.K. 

Did her school father, Papa Badger, know? She knew that she had wondered if he was disappointed, but maybe he was so busy kissing the Flying Professor that he had missed a meeting where the Heads of Houses discussed the trouble-makers. For a brief moment, Mari wondered if what actually had happened was that Professor Browne was actually kissing Professor Jensen. They seemed like a pretty cute couple, and it would make sense as to why Professor Browne hadn't tried to lecture her about being a prefect and getting detention so soon on the job. 

Thirty-seven.

Paranoia set in at the fear of failure as prefect, and Mari began to shake as she rocked back and forth while scrubbing the thirty-seventh bedpan. She'd have to go talk to Professor Browne about this, come clean. Just because he was kissing the Slytherin Head of House and/or the Flying Professor didn't mean he would never find out. It was probably better it came from her, that Choi had tricked her into detention and all she really wanted to do was make him proud.

Thirty-eight.

The sobs flowed freely and all Mari could think of was how miserable her life was. Twelve years of life - she wasn't even an adult yet! - and so much had happened. Seriously, it was insane that her exams hadn't been cancelled yet. But she didn't want to bother the Headmaster; even though she continually said that she was going to talk to him about exams, she knew he was a very busy man. Besides, being a prefect meant that she was supposed to be a good example.

Thirty-nine.

This stainless steel bedpan was as cold as Mari felt internally, as the sobs turned to frantic memories of that night at the cabins. She usually was able to suppress the memories during the day, but Choi emitted such a darkness that Mari wasn't surprised the nightmare had returned. 

Forty.

The man who had tried to abduct her gripped his arm around her waist so strongly that Mari sometimes felt like she was still being grabbed. Another reason she wasn't going to summer camp? The man's attempts had taken place right there, at the cabins. Of course she wasn't going to go there willingly. She wasn't an idiot! 

These bedpans went quickly as time flew when you were thinking about horrible things and shaking from the nightmares. If Choi looked up, she would see a frantic, yet efficient, individual.

Forty-one.

Overall, the cabin experience had taught her that she needed to fight, and that was why, when Riddle was attempting to attack her, Mari had pulled her wand. That was why, when Illowy had attacked her, Mari had attacked right back. That was why she had yelled at the Hufflepuff boy, why she had yelled at...well, a lot of people, actually. She may need the one hundred fingers for another reason. 

Yet here she was, still suffering, even though she was fighting back. Mari didn't understand. Was she cursed? 

The only solution she had was to cry as she scrubbed the forty-first bedpan.

Forty-two.

Bedpan eight had a small mark of poop, but bedpan forty-two looked as though no one had bothered to dispose of the fecal matter. Mari did actually vomit a bit into the bedpan as a response. Disgusting. She couldn't really dispose of the poop in the water, like she had done to clean the eighth bedpan, so she decided to take the bloodied rag to scoop up the poop and vomit that lingered.

Forty-three.

Luckily, the poop and vomit combination had distracted her enough from the terror that was her nightmares. Mari sighed in the brief reprieve from sob; she'd have to continue on with the Luna Choi novel that she was writing. 

She smelled her fingers; they now reeked of poop. Grabbing for another clean rag, Mari decided that a new one was her best chance of removing the stench. If it didn't go away after...fifty-seven more bedpans, then she could only blame the smell on Choi herself.

Forty-four.

Choi grew envious of Hungry, but at least she could play with Aaa when he was at school. Unfortunately, Aaa had grown quite frightened of her - shockingly, the dog wasn't too fond of a fire-breathing child. Choi took her revenge, one night, and colored the dog lavender so that there could be two lavender-haired people in the family.

That was the day the Chois got rid of the family dog. 

Forty-five.

Why did they get rid of the dog, you ask? Because they were scared. Scared that Choi's lavender-haired, fire-breathing ailment was actually a new strain of the bubonic plague. They could hardly handle one fire-breathing creature, let alone two. 

Unbeknownst to the Choi family, Aaa's new family would give their dog a bath and the color rubbed off quite easily. They kept the dog, though, and did not inform the Chois of their mistake. Aaa probably was happier there, anyway.

Forty-six.

Mari grew quite angry at this point. She knew how sad Hungry probably was to lose his favorite dog, and now here she was, wreaking havoc on another innocent life. Until she had a reason to give Choi her own detention, though, Mari would have to watch her like a hawk, waiting until she made a fatal mistake, herself. All that Mari could hope was that the Choi family made Luna clean the dog-equivalent of a bedpan one hundred times in revenge for her horrible actions.

Heck. It was her story. Mari could will it, and it would be true.

Forty-seven.

Since Mari's imaginary Choi family needed her assistance, Mari took up her role of watching Luna Choi as she scrubbed the forty-seventh bedpan. The sight was...quite boring. All Choi was doing was reading a book, quite still, as if she had to wait for Mari to finish this detention before she would talk for real. Occasionally she would turn the page. 

Mari now knew Luna Choi's secret: she was not only a weirdo but also dull. Mari gave up on watching Choi - for now.

Forty-eight.

The forty-eighth bedpan was delayed as Mari counted on her fingers once more. Two more until fifty; thankfully, Mari was quite aware that fifty was half of one hundred, so she was nearly there. This bedpan was simple, actually quite clean, and Mari wondered how it ended up in the pile.

It must have been put there to taunt her. Her tears would resume once more.

Forty-nine.

The urine stench, again. Mari's nasal cavity had begun to squirm as it sensed the reeking bedpan, but she hoped it was just Choi. She smelled her hands again, as well. They still smelled horrific. Even though Mari did not feel particularly pleased about the idea of her first bath in a month, she knew that she would probably have to take one after this.

She rubbed a hand through her greasy, matted hair as she took a break to embrace the tears. Mari had heard that allowing yourself to express your emotions was a good thing, and she was a rule follower. Three minutes later, she would wipe the bedpan once more and then move on.

Fifty.

It took until the fiftieth bedpan for Mari to have an epiphany. Why had she been doing all this work with her hands, especially once they had been rubbed raw from the soap and water combination to the point that they bled freely? "Do you have any gloves?" she asked timidly. 

Choi looked at her, nodded toward the gloves on a side table, then resumed her book. Stretching out her joints as she rose, Mari moved toward the table to grab the gloves. She wasn't really sure how much the gloves would protect her hands now that they were already bleeding, but the protection was appreciated, nonetheless.

Not that she was going to thank Choi. Someone else probably told her that Mari needed gloves when dealing with all this body excrement.

Fifty-one.

The gloves were a game changer. Mari felt like she was a super human, ready to conquer the world with her armor. Remembering back to when she met Millie, before everything had changed, Mari thought about if this was, perhaps, what a knight felt like. Rubber was as effective as steel in protection, right?

In this case, yes. Her hands still burned because they were raw from soap, but everything felt attainable again, like she could really get in and scrub. Mari had never felt such a glorious feeling before.

Fifty-two.

Maybe it was the high from the smell of urine, maybe she was just crazy (probably the latter), but Mari wondered why rubber gloves weren't a required part of the prefect's uniform. Perhaps she should propose this to all the Heads of Houses. Rubber gloves were very useful; not only are they be useful for scrubbing, like she was doing now, but also...imagine if Mari, as prefect, had encountered another stabbing? She wouldn't hesitate to help if she had gloves!

Fifty-three.

If she had rubber gloves, she'd decorate them like Muggles decorated casts. Perhaps she'd have everyone that she helped as prefect sign them. Of course Lucy and Grace would have to be allowed to sign; for sake of fairness, Mari would ensure that they played a game this summer in which she pretended to save them with her prefect powers. Grace would probably draw a unicorn on it, too. Mari didn't mind that, even though it didn't really fit the theme. It would remind her that Grace was always with her. 

Fifty-four.

"Whatcha reading?" Mari asked Choi, desperate to get out of her thoughts. Of course, Choi wouldn't respond. Choi never seemed one for small talk, just mean talk, where she would attack Mari even though Mari had done nothing wrong. Sigh.

Fifty-five.

The fifty-fifth bedpan wasn't too special, but Mari was hit with the reminder that people used to use chamber pots, quite recently in the wizarding world. Isa had told Mari of visiting her great aunt once and having to use a chamber pot so as to not wake up the whole house. Mari wondered what a chamber pot actually looked like in this moment.

Fifty-six.

Once again, if Mari had the power of the internet, she would perhaps find an answer. She would also find out that a chamber pot had many different names, like a Jordan, a jerry, a guzunder, a po, a potty pot, a potty, or a thunder pot.

Mari would then come to realize that she had actually used a chamber pot when she was potty training. Chamber pots are also used in areas that do not have modern plumbing, but, though Hogwarts was shockingly behind in the times for being such a magical school, the students were blessed with full-blown toilets.

Fifty-seven.

All this talk of toilets made Mari think of the biggest poop-face of them all, Luna Choi. It had felt like ages since she had thought about her novel's plot, but of course, the Choi family would be unable to forget their tiny terror.

Then, one day, the reprieve they were all waiting for came. The wannabe half-dragon had been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Poopy, Leonard, and Hungry all celebrated, of course, and though Choi thought they were celebrating with her, not out of relief, she was joyful, too. The moment would have been the happiest one for the family since Luna was born, except that poor Aaa was gone from their home.

Fifty-eight.

The family would visit Diagon Alley together, mainly because Diagon Alley was a cool place, not because they really wanted to hang out with Choi. Choi said she wanted a pet, but the family ushered her along; they couldn't afford to lose another animal if Hogwarts was unable to cure her fire-breathing issue. When they walked past, Poopy would whisper to Hungry, "We'll come back when she's gone and get you something special." 

Fifty-nine.

She was crying again.

Mari had gotten so emotionally involved in this story that, as she thought about poor Hungry finally getting a pet that wouldn't be ruined by Luna Choi, she sobbed into the bucket. The rag appropriately sopped up the liquid as she cleaned.

Vowing to herself that she would find Hungry and take him in as her own, Mari wondered how the Choi family had been so cursed to get such a horrific daughter like Choi. Perhaps she should write them an owl, telling them how sorry she was. They seemed like perfectly nice people, after all.

Sixty.

Another rusty one. Mari sighed as she picked up a new rag, this time grateful that she had gloves to prevent skin contact with iron oxide. The last thing she needed was to close out the year with an infection. Though, at the same time, maybe that would be the breaking point, where the staff would finally realize that Mari was practically a martyr. 

She had half a mind to take the gloves off to succeed in this plan, perhaps that would end the detention, too, but Mari knew that she was probably on this ice with this detention. Can't let the fifth prefect of Hufflepuff come off as a troublemaker and someone who was unhinged.

Sixty-one.

What would second year look like? It would be nice to start the term off as a prefect like people normally did. Mari couldn't really remember if there was an introduction session at the beginning of the year; September felt like ages ago. Even if there wasn't, perhaps Professor Browne would let Mari host a "welcome to school" event for all the new first years. That sounded like loads of fun.

Sixty-two.

Maybe, if someone like the evil Choi had had an introduction session they would have ended up a better person overall. Mari imagined the now Hogwarts-bound Choi boarding the Hogwarts Express for her first year of school. Her parents had bid her goodbye, Hungry crying with joy that he could finally get another pet to replace Aaa. 

Finally, the Choi family could live in the bliss they deserved. They just had to make sure that Choi wouldn't get herself expelled. It was for this reason that Leonard would take the girl aside, reminded her that her magical muzzle was a good thing, that she should wear it should any issues arise.

Sixty-three.

So Choi boarded the train, Mari reckoned as she scrubbed the sixty-third bedpan, and tried to make friends. At Hogwarts, lavender hair was a bit more common, so no one immediately judged her for her weirdo appearance. But as soon as Choi opened her mouth, her fellow first years could just sense it - she was different. She was someone they didn't want to mess with. And, if they looked ever so closely, they would notice steam coming out of her mouth from the frustration of socializing.

Sixty-four.

And then, Choi would need to be sorted, of course. Mari wondered if she had been sorted in a different house, there would still have been a chance for redemption. Like, what if she had become a Hufflepuff? Maybe she would have been kinder, and those loyal badgers would have embraced her. Everyone knew that the snakes probably just made fun of the child.

Choi had gotten angry all the time, what with those Slytherins making fun of her, that her magical fire-breathing ability had to be squelched. With pure determination, she managed to get to a point where she just breathed hot air when she was angry. Of course, she was still angry all the time.

This was great news for Hungry, as he had just gotten a pet owl named "Thirsty." Thirsty would be able to live with Choi in peace.

Sixty-five.

Mari felt grateful that she did not have to meet Choi during this time, though she wished she hadn't met her at all. She thought about how much happier she would be if she hadn't met the snake in the first place. Surely she wouldn't be scrubbing poop. No one else was evil enough to further hurt such a damaged child. 

The real question was, though: how did she become prefect?

Sixty-six.

Her question was left unanswered until her sixty-sixth bedpan. She supposed the reasoning was similar to why she had been made prefect: they both overcame obstacles. Of course, Mari's obstacles were greater, more extreme; Choi's had just been a bit of unrefined magic. There probably had only been one candidate when she had been made prefect, anyway. Since Choi had overcome her fire-breathing disease, had the positive trait of gender equality, and was the only candidate, she was perfect for the role.

Sixty-seven.

Shrugging, Mari figured she would just ask the question everyone wanted to know: "So did you become prefect because you overcame your pseudo-dragon fire-breathing disease?" She scrubbed as she looked patiently at the girl. When there was no response, Mari kept talking, and murmured, "I mean, that's pretty cool you were able to accomplish that. I don't know many people who display their magic first by breathing fire, but I'm glad the magical muzzle was a stopgate until you got to Hogwarts."

Choi would, of course, not have any clue what Mari was talking about. Mari was insane, but she knew that she was only trying to torment the girl for sake of keeping this detention interesting. She only half believed the tale to be true.

Sixty-eight.

One whole bedpan down and still no answer. Mari began to sob once more as she once again reflected on the cold heart of Luna Choi. It was as though she had channeled the coldness of the sixty-eighth bedpan; neither had a heart. Scrubbing still, the Hufflepuff wailed, "Why are you so mean to me? I just asked you a perfectly valid question. I even paid you a compliment!"

Some of her teardrops trickled onto the rubber gloves; Mari watched the blobs race each other to her fingers. At least someone was having a good time.

Sixty-nine.

Choi had been mean to her from the very start, as discussed before. Mari shouldn't have expected an answer. But still she wailed; the tears were not going to stop any time soon. 

Seventy.

Another poop-laden bedpan. This one was crusted; it clearly hadn't been cleaned in a while. A few of Mari's tears seemed to rehydrate the dried excrement, which was honestly a weird sight to see. For a brief second, Mari wondered if she should tell the Potions professor of her discovery...maybe he would find this fact useful and want to include human defecation in a potion. The only issue was that she did not know his name, either. There were far too many new professors, and Mari was too busy feeling sorry for herself to know all of their names.

When she finished with this bedpan, Mari picked up a new rag. Cleanliness was always important.

Seventy-one.

Weren't there going to be even more new professors? Mari wondered as she scrubbed the seventy-first bedpan. Gosh, how was she going to learn all of their names? It was amazing that some of them had tried to date each other so quickly, especially her Head of House...he had seemed so nice, really devoted to the students. Mari didn't really know what to think.

Adult issues aside, Mari was more concerned about the plethora of new professors for a personal reason: how could she get Lucy excited about Hogwarts when she didn't even know half of the people Lucy would be learning from?

Seventy-two.

Rubbing the seventy-second bedpan with the suds, Mari decided that she would just have to pretend that the professor's backstories weren't as muddied and confusing to her as they actually were. She would tell Lucy things about them that were obvious, learn their names before she returned to Holt. But after that? She could easily phrase the rest of the things as rumors. Students talk; that was the only reason why she had heard anything about the Professor's personal lives in the first place.

Seventy-three.

"What do you think about the new Potions Professor?" Mari asked Choi pleasantly. She had reached a new burst of energy since starting to clean this bedpan. "He seems nice, doesn't he? A bit quiet but...we all have our quiet sides. I don't really like Potions all that much, it's a bit of a scary subject, but my friend Vince made me feel better about it one lesson. Come to think of it, though, I haven't seen her around lately. That's a shame. I miss her."

Seventy-four.

She turned to clean another one. "Well, maybe I should go talk to him. I really like Herbology a lot - I think we talked about this when we met the second time, with the flowers, you know? And...I don't know if you know this, but plants are used in potions. Wild, right?! I never would have guessed either, before I came to Hogwarts."

Seventy-five.

"We're getting a new Herbology professor, I heard," she added, chattering happily away. "I hope the new one is as nice as Professor Davis, I liked her." At this next statement, Mari puffed out her chest: "I got some of my best grades in that class: E's! Mum was so proud. I think I'm going to do something with Herbology, or maybe Care of Magical Creatures."

Seventy-six.

"Do you know Professor Griffith? I met this boy once, he said that Griffith wasn't very scary, but he's so big and scary. How tall do you think he is? Where do you think he got all those scars from? Have you joined R.O.A.M.? I meant to, it's one of the only academic things I'm interested in, but I have to say I'm a bit frightened because...well...Professor Griffith."

Seventy-seven.

Silence fell upon the H.E.C.K., and Mari wondered if she had done something wrong. She caught herself mid-thought; of course she hadn't done anything wrong. Choi had spent her whole childhood having no one to socialize with, she just didn't know what it was like to have normal human conversation! Mari chuckled a bit as she continued to scrub.

Seventy-eight.

This bedpan had the official Hogwarts logo, not just a drawn one, and as Mari looked at it, she wondered why they all didn't have the crest on them. Maybe Hogwarts had drawn inspiration from Muggle universities and tried to capitalize on their designs by selling all sorts of useless crap in Diagon Alley. People seemed to buy anything, so long as they had their school of choice boldly exclaimed on the side. Of course, Mari didn't know who in their right mind would have thought that selling a bedpan with the Hogwarts logo was a smart idea, but... you know, probably someone as dumb as Luna Choi would want that.

Seventy-nine.

She began to count on her fingers again, which took a long time. Seventy-nine. Only, uhhhhh, 21 left. The news that she was almost finished perked up Mari's mood once more.

Eighty.

Down it would fall upon seeing the eightieth bedpan. The stench was back once more; wow urine smelled horrific! The only plus was that Mari now had these protective rubber gloves to protect her hands from any further smell infestations. A little more vomit trickled out of her mouth as she gagged on the smell. She merely wiped it up with her rag and once again assumed that the soapy water would purify the bile.

Eighty-one.

What would Choi's future hold? Mari couldn't say for sure. The lavender hair would fit with fortune teller, but the weird way of speaking still made Mari think that she should work in the Department of Mysteries. She knew that if she asked this question Choi would maybe grace her with a response, but it probably would be something along the same lines as "y u askin fool, so r00d gosh." Because, you know, Choi didn't know how to spell after she missed all that school.

Eighty-two.

What would Mari's future hold, then? Even though her interests were in Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, she had a sinking feeling, as she stole a glance at Choi, that she'd have to save the wizarding world from the future dark witch, Luna Choi. Lord Fartface, though only eleven, was increasing in evil at a dramatic rate. Well, that certainly meant that she'd have to study this summer in order to increase her grades. Mark a third reason as to why she wasn't going to summer camp.

Eighty-three.

"What in the world is this?" Mari wondered aloud as she pondered the unusual-looking bedpan before her. It was an ergometric bedpan, designed to accommodate any person and offer them privacy at the same time. This bedpan looked quite different from the others, shape aside, as it was green and plastic. Mari wasn't smart enough to understand how to clean this efficiently with a rag and a bucketfull of water, so she just quickly brushed over it in hopes that Choi would not notice her shoddy job.

Eighty-four.

In the future, when Mari was eighty-four, she might need a bedpan. In that instance, she would try to invent a spell to clean these more efficiently. No one deserved to be tortured by such a horrendous punishment.

Eighty-five.

Choi, when she was eighty-five, would have no one to guide her through life. She wouldn't be smart enough to invent a spell to clean her bedpans, either, as she still would be unable to spell like a normal person. The nurses at the nursing home would be terrified of her, because, in her old age, she would unable to control her weird dragon-like fire anymore.

Eighty-six.

This would be a great time to come up with something to write about on the paper, Mari figured. All these rumors of professors snogging and such would be a great gossip column...too bad she didn't like writing about other people, letting students sympathize for anyone but herself. Maybe she should write a gossip column about herself?

Eighty-seven.

Mari Haynes, aged twelve years, nearly died while suffering the most horrifying detention possible - scrubbing bedpans. She perished while on the eigthy-seventh; she was so close to making it out alive. The instigator of the attempted murder? Luna Fartface Choi, eleven, daughter of Leonard and Poopy Choi. She was taken to Azkaban for her dastardly deeds and sentenced to life in prison.

Eighty-eight.

Leonard and Poopy were contacted by members of the Headliner staff to ask their thoughts on their horrific child they had once called "daughter." "We disowned her, of course," Leonard said while Poopy sobbed in the background. "It was just too much for us to handle." 

Eighty-nine.

Harold was likewise mortified, but he added an interesting comment: "We went to meet her family, to apologize, of course, and I came to realize that her younger sister was the same age. We actually connected quite quickly, fell in love and all. We are like the star-crossed lovers of Hogwarts, improbable but possible. They would continue on to have a seven year Hogwarts romance. One could say they were first year sweethearts."

Ninety.

As for Haynes? Well, of course everyone mourned her, even though she didn't actually die. The Headmaster even gave her a plaque to celebrate her life, rebranding the abandoned toilets as "The Mari Haynes Memorial Porcelain Palace." Haynes was thrilled. "I know I've been a great fifth prefect of Hufflepuff," she said from her Hospital Wing bed, after using her newly-invented spell to clean the bedpan she had used before our interview. "And I'm glad that, after all I've been through at Hogwarts, that I am able to continue on in a blaze of glory."

No pun intended, of course. We know she's a Hufflepuff, but Haynes was not actually burned.

Ninety-one.

It was a beautiful article, one that Mari knew she'd have to send after she finished the...how many did she have left? She took a few minutes to count on her finger. Ninety-one down so...only nine more to go? How amazing! This day was really picking up, now that she only had a few more buckets of excrement to go.

Ninety-two.

The last ones, though, were some of the worst ones, so awful-smelling that Mari couldn't help but use a rubber glove to plug her nose while she scrubbed with the other. Sheesh, Choi must have gone in these herself. She was probably still potty training, herself. Mari wouldn't put it past her, though she wondered how in the world this girl entered Hogwarts without being toilet trained.

Ninety-three.

Nothing special about this one; it was metal, so the smell didn't linger nearly as much as the bedpan ninety-two. Mari took her sweet time on the ninety-third bedpan because of this. She could already smell the next one.

Ninety-four.

Mari herself could have been a Seer, she sensed how bad this one smelled. Course she wasn't; anyone with a solid sense of smell could have smelled it. Heck, she wondered why Choi hadn't looked up from her book, the smell was so bad. Perhaps her sense of smell was ruined by the constant flames coming out of every hole in her body.

Ompf. That was an image Mari wished she hadn't thought.

Ninety-five.

Another one with dried poop, causing Mari to wonder just how long it had been since these had last been cleaned. Did she need to help the nurse? Maybe, once she defeated Lord Fartface, she could retire to be an assistant in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts. It wasn't exactly working with plants directly, but it did involve some of them. Plus it seemed like a quiet job; despite all these bedpans, she hadn't noticed a single student enter since she began her detention. 

Ninety-six.

Four more to go, and Mari was losing steam. "Can we just forget about these last few?" She began to sob, as she looked towards the remaining ones. They all looked quite awful, like bedpans Mari would never want to touch, even when clean. Did Choi plan this? Maybe if she had spent as much time on her homework like she did her evil plans, she would be the top student in the class.

Ninety-seven.

She grabbed a new rag; it had been a while. In all honesty, these last few looked like they each needed a clean rag. It was a pretty looking thing; Mari wasn't really sure why a bedpan needed to be gender-defined, but she quite liked the floral pattern on it. It was a damn shame someone ruined it by using it for its intended purpose. 

Ninety-eight.

Another new rag. The tears were increasing; Mari knew that she could make it just a few more, but after suffering through (she needed her fingers again) ...ninety-seven others, she was really wondering how she was still alive at this point. It was gross, probably still had a few stains on it from the leftover fecal matter, but Mari didn't care. She just needed to make it out of this detention alive.

Ninety-nine.

If she was reckless and didn't have a reputation to uphold, Mari likely would have finished the last two, then punched Choi right in her nose. Her fist probably would have burned from Choi's smoky breath, but even if the rubber glove did not protect her, her hand was already so raw that she figured a little more pain wouldn't be the end of the world.

At this moment, Mari realized she should probably confess to Professor Browne that she had a mental slip up in her time as prefect. She hoped he'd understand when she explained how evil Choi was, he would go straight to Professor Jensen and after maybe kissing her (seriously, what in the world was up with his love life?), tell her that she needed to fire Luna Choi right this instant. It seemed a reasonable conclusion to draw, Choi was that evil.

One Hundred.

Even though she wanted to, she wouldn't punch Choi, even though this was the most disgusting bedpan of them all. Poop, pee, you name it... every time of bodily fluid was on this thing. Mari cleaned it quickly with a fresh rag, and when she was finished, dropped the rag in the bucket and asked, "I finished. Can I go now?"

She didn't need an answer, she knew she had done the task just fine. The bedpans were clean, done without magic. Her detention was over.

As she walked past Choi, the smell of the one hundredth bedpan hit her once more. Unable to control her gag reflex much longer, Mari did what any twelve-year-old girl would do in response to an awful smell: she vomited. If it were any other situation she would have offered to help clean it up, but in Mari's heart, she knew that Choi deserved a detention for her detention. Therefore, Mari simply left H.E.C.K., now once again known as just "The Hospital Wing." Choi could clean it up herself.