Phoenix Rising, Part 3

by Geri ([email protected])

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: SS/RL

Author's note: {} Indicates character's unspoken thoughts

Disclaimer: Characters belong to J.K. Rowling, except Hob, who belongs to William Mayne; no money is being made off this story; consider it a little wish fulfillment on my part.

Sequel to: Always, Summer Vacation, For Old Time's Sake, Three's a Crowd, Return of the Raven, and Phoenix Reborn.

Summary: The war escalates, as does the tension between Gryffindor and Slytherin.
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Tensions between Slytherin and the other Houses, particularly Gryffindor, continued to run high. The Slytherins tended to consider the dungeon their domain, so when Brad Doherty reported one day that he'd seen a bunch of Gryffindors--including Harry Potter--heading down to one of the lower dungeon levels one evening, Draco rounded up a group to investigate. Crabbe and Goyle were at his side as usual, but Theodore had gone to the library with Blaise, so Draco ordered Dylan and Damien to come with him. After a moment's hesitation, he allowed an eager Brad to tag along as well.

They found Potter, Hermione, Ron and Ginny Weasley, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom in one of the workrooms adjacent to the Incantations and Summonings classroom.

"Just what do you think you're doing here, Potter?" sneered Draco.

"We have permission from Professor Blackmore to be here," snapped Potter.

"We're practicing drawing protective circles," Hermione added in a more polite tone.

"So why don't you buzz off, Malfoy?" Ron Weasley said curtly as his sister and Hermione gave him disapproving looks.

"Why don't you make me, Weasley?" Draco said with a nasty smile, slipping his hand into his pocket to grasp his wand.

"Don't tempt me, Malfoy!" Weasley snarled, reaching for his own wand. Potter did likewise, as his Gryffindor friends watched nervously.

"Stop it, Ron!" Hermione said sharply. "Do you want to lose more points for Gryffindor? Do you want to get detention so close to your next Quidditch match?" She said to Draco in a slightly conciliatory tone, "Look, we don't want any trouble. All we want to do is practice for Professor Blackmore's class. Haven't both Slytherin and Gryffindor gotten into enough trouble fighting as it is?"

But her reasonable tone only served to make Draco angrier. "I don't take orders from a Mudblood!"

"You take that back!" Weasley snapped, raising his wand.

"Ron!" protested Hermione.

"You're a fine one to talk," Potter said, jumping into the fray. "You've got no right to be throwing insults around, when your dad's a common criminal!"

Draco's pale face turned red, and his gray eyes took on a dangerous gleam. "Don't you dare talk about my father that way, you...you...half-blood!"

"The high and mighty Lucius Malfoy, a fugitive on the run," Weasley taunted. "I can't wait till the Aurors catch him!"

"I'll make you eat those words, Weasley," Draco snarled, pointing his wand at Weasley. "They'll never catch him! He and the Death Eaters will kill all you lot of Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers!" He sneered at Potter. "Just like they killed your parents!" Potter's face turned red with anger.

Crabbe and Goyle grasped hold of their wands but did not draw them. They were not usually so reluctant to follow Draco's lead in fighting with the Gryffindors, but they showed rare good sense in being very scared of Professor Blackmore, and this room was dangerously close to her office. Brad watched the confrontation eagerly, and Damien anxiously, but neither boy seemed eager to draw their wands either.

"Please stop, Draco," Dylan said nervously. "You're going to get in trouble; if Professor Blackmore catches us--"

"Since when did you turn into such a little priss, Rosier?" Draco sneered, giving him a contemptuous look, as if asking how a Death Eater could be so concerned about a little detention.

"Even Snape is afraid of Blackmore," Dylan retorted. "Doesn't that tell you something?!"

Meanwhile, Hermione was pleading with her friends, with just as little success. "Ron, you're a prefect! You have to set an example! Harry, just ignore him--who cares what he thinks? He's just trying to get you into trouble!"

The boys pointed their wands at each other, just as Dylan heard the sound of a raven cawing. "NO--STOP!!" he shouted, not sure whether he was talking to the three boys or to the raven, but either way, it was too late. Bane flew into the room, scolding them in his hoarse, croaking voice, and inadvertently flew straight into the line of fire and was simultaneously hit with three curses.

There was a loud squawk, and Bane's form was obscured by a sudden puff of smoke. Startled, the boys jerked their wands back. They heard a soft "thump!"--like the sound of a small body hitting the ground. The smoke cleared, revealing a large bunny rabbit, its fur as sleek and black as a raven's feathers. It was plump and cuddly-looking, except for its eyes, which were beady and black like Bane's, and glaring furiously at everyone in the room.

There was a long, horrified silence, which was finally broken by Goyle. Slow-witted though he was, it was obvious even to him that they were all in big trouble. "Uh-oh," he said in a small voice.

Just then, Professor Blackmore strode into the room, saying in her usual imperious voice, "All right, what's going on here?" The Slytherins hastily distanced themselves from their leader, retreating to the far corner of the room to cower in fear. Dylan, Damien, and Brad tried to hide themselves behind Crabbe's and Goyle's bulky forms, while at the same time, Draco's two henchmen tried to hide behind their younger classmates. Finally, the boys settled on huddling together side-by-side in the corner, like one quivering mass of flesh. The Gryffindors were likewise putting as much space as possible between themselves and Potter and Weasley; even Hermione took a step back. Blackmore saw the bunny sitting in the middle of the room and gave it a puzzled look. "Where did this rabbit come from?" she asked.

The rabbit let out a shrill, earsplitting screech, and all the children hastily clapped their hands over their ears. Blackmore's eyes flew wide open and she bent down to look more closely at the rabbit. "B--Bane?" she stammered.

The bunny screeched again, and began jumping up and down in an agitated manner. The phrase "hopping mad" suddenly popped into Dylan's head, and he had to quickly clamp his hands over his mouth to stifle a surge of hysterical laughter. He definitely did not want to attract Blackmore's attention right now; he was quite certain that she would not find the situation one bit amusing.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY FAMILIAR?!" Blackmore shrieked, and that instantly banished Dylan's desire to laugh. Crabbe and Goyle flung their arms around each other, clinging together as they whimpered in terror, and Damien and Dylan huddled a little closer together as well. Despite all the terrible things he had seen since being forced to join the Death Eaters, Dylan found himself trembling, and he could feel his friend trembling as well. Brad, who had never been particularly friendly with either Dylan or Damien, suddenly pressed close to them, whimpering like a puppy wanting to be comforted, and Dylan didn't have the heart to push him away.

"Oh man, we are so dead!" Damien moaned softly.

Weasley had turned white and was babbling incoherently, and Draco and Potter pointed at each other and said, "He started it!"

That was a mistake, because Blackmore turned her gaze on them, and both boys scuttled backwards several steps. Her face was white, her green eyes were filled with rage, and there was a palpable aura of power around her, just barely held in check, like a volcano about to explode. She spoke in a quiet, deadly voice, biting off her words in clipped phrases. "I. Want. To know. What. Happened. Here."

"It was an accident--" Potter began, while Draco protested, "It's all Potter's fault!"

"Shut up!" Blackmore snapped, and they instantly fell silent. She pointed first at the crowd of Gryffindors, then at the Slytherins and said, "Granger. Rosier." Dylan and Hermione very reluctantly stepped forward. She nodded at Hermione to begin.

"W-well, Draco was m-making some nasty comments about Mudbloods," Hermione stuttered nervously. "And he said the Death Eaters would kill all the Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers."

Blackmore turned to look at Dylan. Under her steely gaze, he didn't bother to try and contradict Hermione's statement, despite the pleading look Draco was giving him. He just picked up where Hermione had left off, saying, "Then Potter and Weasley started taunting Draco about his dad being a criminal."

"Then Draco raised his wand--"

"So did Potter and Weasley--"

"And...well...Bane flew into the room and got hit by the curses," Hermione finished.

"And what were the rest of you doing while this was going on?" Blackmore coldly asked the cowering groups of Gryffindor and Slytherin students.

"Hermione tried to stop us," Potter said, in a slightly quavering voice, and Dylan had to grudgingly admire his bravery, because if he had been in Potter's shoes, he would be trying to attract as little attention to himself as possible.

"Dylan tried to stop it, too," Hermione added loyally, and Dylan shot her a grateful look.

Blackmore walked over to the fireplace, grabbed a fistful of powder from a jar that sat on the mantle, and flung it onto the cold, unlit hearth. Green flames flared up for a moment, and she shouted, "Professor McGonagall! Severus Snape! I want to talk to you RIGHT NOW!"

Snape emerged from the fireplace a moment later, brushing ashes off his robe, followed by McGonagall. "Professor Blackmore?" he asked, eyeing her warily, looking almost as nervous as his own students.

McGonagall looked less intimidated, and just said in a puzzled tone, "What's wrong, Branwen?" Then she saw Draco, Potter, and Weasley standing in the middle of the room with their wands out. "I might have known," she sighed.

Blackmore scooped up the black bunny rabbit and cradled him in her arms protectively. "Look what your students have done to my familiar!" she shouted.

"That's Bane?" McGonagall asked incredulously. "Oh my goodness!" Then her face took on a thoughtful look, and she said musingly, more to herself than to Blackmore, "I had no idea Potter and Weasley were capable of performing such an advanced transfiguration."

Bane squealed in outrage, and Blackmore stamped her foot on the ground in a petulant manner. "You can hand out points to Gryffindor later! I want satisfaction for what they've done!"

Snape's black eyes widened as he bent down to examine Bane more closely, hesitantly running a finger along the transformed familiar's sleek black fur. "Oh...my," he said, and the corners of his mouth twitched slightly, as if he were trying not to smile.

Blackmore noticed, of course. "I fail to see the humor in the situation, Severus," she said in an icy voice.

"A pity it isn't closer to Easter," Snape said, his lips still twitching, and Dylan's jaw dropped open. Had Snape just made a joke?! If so, neither Blackmore nor Bane found it very funny. Bane hissed and opened his mouth wide, exposing long, white incisors. Snape hastily pulled his hand back, warning, "If you bite me, Bane, I swear you'll never get another treat from me, ever!" The rabbit closed his mouth, and grunted irritably.

"I want them punished!" Blackmore screeched, and Dylan watched in amazement. Of course he had not known her very long, but he had never seen her completely lose her composure like this before, and judging by the expressions on their faces, neither had McGonagall or Snape.

"Yes, yes," Snape said soothingly. "I'll give Malfoy detention, of course..."

"Not good enough!" Blackmore snapped, glaring at both Snape and McGonagall. "I want them turned over to me personally, Slytherin and Gryffindors alike!"

All three boys turned sheet-white, and McGonagall smiled, looking extremely amused, and said, "Done!"

Malfoy gave Snape a beseeching look; Snape just gazed back at him coolly, then turned to Blackmore and said, "Very well, but please don't do any permanent damage to him. I promised his mother I'd look after him, you see..." Malfoy stared at him, a look of wounded betrayal in his eyes; Snape ignored him. "But before you start handing out punishments, perhaps we should restore Bane to normal?"

Bane made a huffy little noise, and gave Snape a look that clearly said, "Well, it's about time!" Snape's lips twitched in that almost-smile again, and he took out his wand, tapped Bane lightly with it, and said, "Finite Incantatum." Nothing happened; Bane still rested in Blackmore's arms, a fuzzy black bunny.

"Uh-oh," Goyle said again.

Snape began to look alarmed. "Finite Incantatum!" he repeated, with the same result. "Minerva?" he asked. "You're the expert in Transfigurations, perhaps if you try..."

All three Professors tried repeatedly to restore Bane to his original form, with no success. Bane let out a loud, anguished squeal. Blackmore looked absolutely livid. She handed Bane to Snape and took out her wand.

"That's it, we're dead," Weasley whimpered.

"Branwen!" McGonagall cried. "You can't attack a student!"

"Just watch me," she said grimly.

Snape looked a little ill at ease, holding the bunny awkwardly; he clearly had little experience in handling cuddly creatures. Dylan might have laughed if the situation hadn't been so tense. "If you kill them now, Branwen," Snape pointed out, "we might never be able to change Bane back. We need to find out what they did to him before we can break the enchantment."

Bane squealed at her urgently, and Blackmore reluctantly pocketed her wand. "I suppose you're right," she sighed. Turning to Draco, Potter, and Weasley, she said, "My office. Now!" She turned on her heel and walked out the door, followed reluctantly by the three boys, who looked as though they were heading to their executions. McGonagall and Snape--who was still carrying Bane-the-bunny--brought up the rear.

"Why am I still holding the rabbit?" Snape complained, and Bane hissed at him.

"Thank Merlin!" Damien sighed, sliding limply down to the floor in relief, and Brad, Crabbe, and Goyle vigorously echoed that sentiment, as did the remaining Gryffindors, except for Hermione. Dylan, giddy with relief himself, laughed a little at the irony of the situation: for once, Gryffindor and Slytherin were in complete accord, united in their fear of Professor Blackmore.

"Rosier's losing it," Crabbe muttered as he watched Dylan standing in the middle of the room giggling to himself.

"So who can blame him?" Damien pointed out, and Crabbe nodded in agreement. "Man, I nearly wet myself when Blackmore walked in and saw what happened to Bane!"

"You too, mate?" Dean Thomas asked, apparently forgetting in his relief that Damien was a Slytherin, and thus, the enemy and not his "mate". "I think I DID wet myself!" And Damien and his housemates likewise seemed to forget that Thomas was a "Mudblood," and laughed, not mockingly, but good-naturedly. Then all the children were laughing together in slightly hysterical relief.

All but Hermione, that is. "It's not funny!" she protested. "Aren't you worried at all what Blackmore will do to them?"

"Better them than us," Damien declared, and Crabbe and Goyle nodded emphatically. The Gryffindors hesitated to say something so callous, but neither did they seem eager to rush to their friends' defense.

"Well, Ron and Harry should have known better than to do something like that, especially after you tried to warn them," Ginny Weasley finally said. "Besides, I'm sure Professor Blackmore won't REALLY kill them," she added, although she didn't sound very sure of that.

"Oh no, she won't kill them," Dylan agreed. "I've heard my mother's stories about Professor Blackmore, and I'm sure she would consider a quick death to be much too merciful a punishment..."

Hermione gave Dylan and his companions a slightly accusing look. "Aren't you worried what she'll do to your friend Draco?"

"Not worried enough to get between him and Blackmore when she's in a rage," Dylan replied dryly, and his housemates nodded in agreement. "Besides, Professor Snape said, 'no permanent damage'..."

"He asked her not to do any permanent damage," Longbottom pointed out timidly, "but she never actually agreed to it."

"You're right," Dylan acknowledged. "Still, she never killed any students that I heard of while my mother was a student here. Then again, none of them ever changed Bane into a bunny rabbit..."

"Dylan!" Hermione exclaimed, looking even more upset.

"Hey, if you want to go rescue Potter and Weasley, be my guest," Damien said. "It's your funeral. But don't expect any help from us; you Gryffindors are supposed to be the noble ones, after all."

Hermione bristled a little at that, and her friends looked a little shamefaced. She looked pale but determined, and Dylan was afraid she might really try to take on Blackmore by herself, so he hastily said, "Don't be an idiot, Granger! You'll only get in trouble yourself if you try to interfere. Besides, I'm sure Dumbledore won't really let her harm a student." {At least, I hope not,} he added silently. "She'll just give them some really nasty detention, that's all."

"Probably involving toothbrushes," Goyle muttered.

"Didn't Snape make Ron scrub bedpans in the hospital wing with a toothbrush once?" Dean Thomas asked Ginny Weasley, who nodded.

"He probably got the idea from her," Dylan said. "Snape said she gave the same punishment to my dad once, when he was a kid."

"Really?" Thomas asked, looking interested. "I wonder how many other punishment ideas he got from her?"

"Bedpans, that's nothing," Crabbe said. "She made me and Goyle's dads scrub the entire dungeon with toothbrushes!"

The other children, Slytherin and Gryffindor alike, seemed intrigued by that statement, and clamored to hear more. Crabbe and Goyle looked gratified to be the center of attention for once, even if half of their audience were Gryffindors, and happily recounted the story of how their fathers had once attempted to summon a water elemental as a prank, and instead summoned a mud elemental, which had then broken free and splattered mud all over the dungeon. Dylan laughed, not just at the story (although it was funny), but at the sight of a bunch of Gryffindors and Slytherins sitting and conversing together like bosom buddies. Hermione caught his eye and smiled, so no doubt she was thinking the same thing. Dylan gave her a quick wink, and laughed again, thinking that it was a very good thing that Draco wasn't here right now! But then again, this would not be happening if Draco had been present, and he was a little surprised to find that Crabbe and Goyle weren't really so bad when Malfoy wasn't around. Perhaps the Gryffindors weren't really so bad either, when Potter and Weasley weren't around to egg them on against the Slytherins. Well, hopefully Blackmore would keep all three boys too busy to make trouble in either House for quite some time...
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Meanwhile, in Blackmore's office, a disgruntled Bane was sitting on his mistress's desk, twitching his nose irritably as the three boys squirmed under Blackmore's glare.

"All right," she said sternly. "What curses did you boys use?"

"A R-rat-Face H-hex," Ron stuttered. "I wanted Malfoy to look like the rat he is!" Then he gulped and fell silent as all three teachers gave him baleful looks.

"Potter?" Blackmore asked sharply.

"A Curse of Ill Wishing," Harry muttered.

"Where did you learn that?" McGonagall asked, sounding startled. "That isn't taught in any of your classes!"

"I read about it in a book," Harry said, deciding not to mention that he had come across it in the set of textbooks Lupin and Sirius had given him last Christmas, since he didn't want to get them in trouble, too. Of course the books were intended to teach how to defend against such spells, but they mentioned enough about how the spell worked that Harry had figured out how to cast it.

Blackmore gave him a suspicious look, but just turned to Draco, and said, "Malfoy?"

"An Impediment Curse," he said sullenly.

"I don't really see how those three curses could have combined to turn Bane into a bunny," McGonagall said in a puzzled voice.

Snape gave Ron a look of contempt. "Obviously, Weasley's incompetence must have altered the spell somehow. His attempts at magic usually have disastrous results."

"Not since I replaced my broken wand," Ron muttered, but under his breath.

"He tried to turn Malfoy into a rat," Snape continued in his cold voice, "or at least make him resemble one, but he cast the spell wrong, and ended up with a rabbit instead of a rat."

"It was a Rat-FACE Hex, not a more powerful transfiguration spell," McGonagall said with a frown. "And why couldn't we undo the hex?"

"The three spells must have somehow combined and had an unexpected effect," Snape replied, a thoughtful look on his face. "It might help if we could see exactly how the spells became combined together. Branwen?"

Blackmore nodded and took out her wand. She pointed it at Bane, and said, "Aperio!" The bunny began to glow with an eerie purplish-black light, and there were glowing strands of light--red, blue, and a sickly yellowish-green--interwoven around his body like a tangled net of colored threads. The three teachers looked down at the bunny and frowned.

"Look at how they're all tangled together!" Snape said. "No wonder we couldn't reverse the spell."

Harry knew it would be wiser to remain quiet, as his teachers seemed to have momentarily forgotten about him, but his curiosity got the better of him. "What spell was that?" he asked timidly. "What are all those lights?"

Blackmore looked up at him, but she looked more worried than angry. "Aperio is called the Revelation Spell--in Latin it means 'to reveal or make clear'. It makes magical auras visible to the human eye. Each of these threads is one of your curses," she said, pointing to the glowing threads of light.

Malfoy had an odd, almost frightened look on his face, as he stared wide-eyed at the glowing bunny. Harry gave him a puzzled look, then asked, "And what is that purplish-black light?"

"That is Bane's personal aura," Blackmore replied, then smiled slightly at the startled look on Harry's face. "He is my familiar, after all; he is a magical creature of sorts."

"This is the Impediment Curse," Snape said, pointing to the red thread. "And this, the supposed Rat-Face Hex." He pointed at the blue thread. "And this, the Curse of Ill Wishing." He pointed at the yellowish thread, and frowned again. "I think I see what has happened now. The Curse of Ill Wishing worked all too well." He glared at Harry and said, "It is a powerful curse, Potter, and not to be flung about in childish games. It brings bad luck upon its victim, and is very difficult to break." He still looked angry, but confused and a little wary as well. "You should not have been able to cast it at your level, not just from having read about it in a book."

"I see," Blackmore murmured. "The ill wishing affected the other curses, enhancing them and bringing out the worst possible effects."

"It made not just the victim's face, but his entire body change into a rat, or rather, a rabbit," Snape continued. "And Impedimenta, when you think about it, is a freezing spell of sorts. Normally it just freezes the victim in place, leaving him unable to move." He scowled, perhaps recalling how Harry's father and Sirius had once used it on him as a child. "But in this case, combined with the Curse of Ill Wishing, it has served to freeze the effects of Weasley's hex, locking Bane into his rabbit form. That is why a simple Finite Incantatum spell was unable to reverse the effect."

Bane let out an anguished little squeal, and began thumping one of his hind feet on the table angrily. Harry turned pale and said, "He's not stuck in that form permanently, is he? Now that you know what happened, you can undo it, right?"

"Oh God, we're dead!" Ron said in a voice that was high and squeaky with fear. Malfoy said nothing, but he had turned deathly white.

Snape gave them a nasty grin, then said, "To restore Bane, we'll have to untangle the spell-threads, one by one. It should be difficult, but not impossible." He took out his wand and carefully touched it to the glowing red thread and muttered a brief incantation under his breath. He slowly lifted his wand, and the red thread clung to the wand and came away with it, slowly unraveling from around Bane's body. It got stuck a couple of times where it crossed with the blue thread, but Snape muttered again, and the thread came loose and continued to pull away from the rabbit's body. But then the thread reached a point where it was entangled with the yellow-green thread of the Curse of Ill Wishing, and suddenly it came free from the wand and snapped back to Bane's body like rubber band that had been pulled taught and then released. There was a brief, blinding flash of light, and Snape and the bunny were flung apart. Snape staggered backwards, crashing into a bookcase, and Bane skidded across the desk; he would have fallen over the edge if Blackmore had not quickly stepped forward and caught him.

She cradled the bunny against her chest and snapped, "Be careful, Severus!"

"I was trying to," Snape replied testily, rubbing his shoulder where it had struck the bookcase.

McGonagall said, "Obviously, it's going to take some time to figure out how to unravel the spells."

Bane let out an indignant squeal, as if to say, "You mean I'm stuck being a bunny for God knows how long?!"

Blackmore petted her familiar soothingly, but when she lifted her face to stare at her three errant students, her green eyes were filled with a cold fury. The three boys took a hasty step back. "Fifty--no, one hundred points from Gryffindor!" Blackmore said in a glacial voice, and Harry shuddered; he could almost feel the temperature in the room drop several degrees. "And fifty from Slytherin!"

Snape scowled furiously at that, but was clearly too fearful of her to object.

"And you will all write me an essay on the dangers of using curses irresponsibly. Two feet of parchment due the day after tomorrow. As for detention..." She hesitated and the three boys held their breath. She frowned and said, "I'm so angry that I can't think of a punishment fitting of your crime." Then she smiled, an evil smile worse than any Snape had ever given them. "But don't worry, I'll think of one in time." The boys began to tremble. "For now, you will report to the hospital wing every day afterschool and scrub bedpans until I decide what your punishment will be. With toothbrushes. If you run out of bedpans, you can scrub the toilets in the boys' bathrooms." She leaned forward and breathed in a menacing whisper, "And you had better hope we can cure Bane, because if we can't..." She drew a finger across her throat. Malfoy whimpered, and so did Ron. "Now get out of my sight!"

The boys didn't wait to be told twice; they fled from her office and didn't stop running until they had reached the end of the hall and gone up a flight of stairs. Then they paused and leaned against the wall, panting and trying to catch their breath.

"Merlin's Beard, I thought she'd kill us!" gasped Ron.

"She still might, if they can't change Bane back!" Malfoy said darkly. "This is all your fault, Weasley! It's your botched curse that turned him into a bunny!"

"If YOU hadn't--" Ron started to retort.

"Oh, shut up, both of you!" Harry shouted. "If they catch us fighting, we'll be in even more trouble!" Both Ron and Malfoy subsided into a sulky silence. Then something occurred to Harry, and he asked Malfoy, "Why were you looking at Bane so strangely, when Blackmore cast the Aperio spell?"

"Didn't you see his aura, Potter?" Malfoy demanded.

"Yeah, it was sort of purplish-black," Harry replied. "What of it?"

"Well, I suppose one can't expect a Muggle-born like you to know such things," Malfoy sneered condescendingly.

"Why, you--" Ron said, clenching his fists. Harry's temper flared as well, but suddenly he remembered Snape saying during his Occlumency lessons, "You must learn to control your emotions, Potter." He took a deep breath and placed a restraining hand on Ron's arm.

"Then why don't you enlighten me, Malfoy?" Harry asked quietly.

Malfoy looked confused, and a little disappointed that Harry didn't get mad, but he replied, "His aura is dark, nearly black. That's a sign of a Dark Creature."

Ron said, "Well, he's bad-tempered and all, but--"

"Not just mean or bad-tempered," Malfoy snapped, "but Dark, with a capital D! As in magical, as in he's not just a normal raven! Maybe he's not even a raven at all!"

"What do you mean, Malfoy?" Harry asked, puzzled and a little frightened.

Malfoy looked around nervously as if to make sure no one else was in earshot, then leaned forward and whispered, "She's had that bird since my dad was a kid. Shouldn't he be getting on in years by now? But he still looks young and healthy, and so does she, for that matter! She looks younger than Snape, but she's at least ten years older than him! They used to say that the Blackmores practiced the Dark Arts--"

"And how does this make them different from the Malfoys?" Ron muttered, but Harry shushed him.

Malfoy glared at Ron, but continued, "They used to say that the Blackmores had demon blood. The Slytherins of my father's time used to say that Bane was her demon familiar!"

"That's ridiculous!" Ron snorted. Then he looked at Harry and asked uncertainly, "Isn't it?"

"Maybe she knows some things about the Dark Arts," Harry said slowly, remembering the conversation he'd had with Blackmore about Snape's memories in the Pensieve, remembering how she had said that her father had tutored her in the Dark Arts so that she would be able to defend herself against such spells. "But surely she's no demon, and neither is Bane!"

"They used to say she had the power to summon demons," Malfoy insisted. "And how else do you explain Bane's aura and why Blackmore still looks so young?"

"But Dumbledore wouldn't let a demon into the school!" Harry protested.

"The old man is too softhearted to realize what she is!" Malfoy retorted. "Do you know that the Dark Lord sent three Death Eaters to kill her fifteen years ago? The next day, Aurors from the Ministry found them ripped up into itty-bitty little pieces! And Blackmore and Bane vanished, and didn't show up again till this past summer!"

"If she's fighting your dad's pals, the Death Eaters, then she's no demon!" Ron said, but he looked a little nauseous.

Harry felt a bit queasy himself, at the thought of the Death Eaters being turned into "itty-bitty little pieces," however evil they were. He knew that Blackmore's mysterious ally had killed the Death Eaters who had attacked her, but he had never heard the details before, and now he understood why Mrs. Weasley had not wanted Blackmore to discuss her disappearance with Harry and the other children. "She's not evil," he insisted, but his voice was a little shaky. Where had she disappeared to for all those years? Who was the mysterious ally who saved her and killed the Death Eaters? Maybe Malfoy was right, after all... Then he remembered that she had treated him kindly, talking to him about his mother last summer, and he remembered how after he had come to Sirius, frightened and confused about what he had seen in the Pensieve, she had gently explained to him about his father's hatred of the Dark Arts and how that had been the source of his animosity towards Snape. He remembered how fond she was of Sirius, Snape, and Lupin, and how pleased she was that the latter two had become a couple. He remembered how she had fought the Death Eaters at the Ministry and saved Sirius from falling through the veiled arch. He didn't know exactly what would have happened if Sirius had gone through it, but he instinctively sensed that it would have been very bad. "She's not a demon," he said more firmly.

Malfoy shrugged. "Think whatever you like, Potter, but don't say I didn't warn you!" Then he stomped off.

"What if Malfoy's right?" Ron asked fearfully.

"Even if he is, there's not much we can do about it," Harry pointed out. "It's not like we're powerful enough to defend ourselves against a demon. We'll just have to serve our detention and hope they can change Bane back."

"That's very reassuring," Ron muttered sarcastically as they headed to Gryffindor Tower.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Two days later, Harry, Ron, and Draco turned in their punishment essays to Professor Blackmore. Bane sat on Blackmore's desk, still in his bunny form, glaring at them and twitching his nose.

"I'm really, really sorry, Professor," Harry said in a chastened voice.

Blackmore no longer looked quite so angry, but neither did she look particularly forgiving. "I believe you, Mr. Potter--"

Harry winced; she was calling him "Mr. Potter" instead of "Harry," which was probably a bad sign.

"--but sometimes an apology is not enough. When you act without thinking, sometimes the consequences of your actions cannot be undone with mere words. What you have done to Bane is bad enough; what if you had hurt or killed him? What if it had not been Bane, but one of your classmates who was hit by the curses and seriously injured? What good would 'I'm sorry' do then?"

Harry flushed and hung his head; so did Ron. Draco merely looked sullen.

"Take your seats," Blackmore said curtly, and the boys hastened to obey. She gazed at the class silently for a moment, then said, "I've endured this ridiculous House rivalry since before I was your age, and I have had just about enough of it. You will learn to get along with each other, like it or not, or you will fail this class." The students stared back at her, anger and confusion in their eyes, which quickly changed to apprehension as she smiled in a way that boded ill for them. It was remarkably similar to the way Professor Snape smiled when he was about to pounce on a student's shortcomings or hand out detention.

"Your next assignment is to summon an air elemental. You have two weeks to research and prepare the runes, protective circle, incantation, and material components for the spell. However, this time I will assign your partners. Group number one: Miss Parkinson, Miss Bulstrode, Miss Patil, and Miss Brown."

"What?!" Pansy Parkinson and Parvati Patil exclaimed as Millicent Bulstrode and Lavender Brown glared at each other.

"Do you have any objections, Miss Parkinson, Miss Patil?" Blackmore asked in a cold voice, a very dangerous look in her eyes.

"No, Professor," they mumbled in sulky voices, gazing down at their desks, unable to meet her eyes.

"Good. Group number two: Mr. Nott, Mr. Zabini, Mr. Finnigan, and Mr. Thomas." The boys eyed each other with distaste, but made no protests. "Group number three: Mr. Crabbe, Mr. Goyle, Miss Granger, and Mr. Longbottom." Crabbe and Goyle scowled furiously, but were much too cowed to object. Longbottom gulped and stared at Crabbe (who had once nearly choked him to death) nervously, while Hermione looked taken aback, but managed a brave, if rather forced, smile.

Meanwhile, Ron, Harry, and Draco were staring at each other in horror. Blackmore grinned in a positively evil way, and practically purred, "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Malfoy will form the final group."

"You can't make us work with that slimy git!" Ron wailed.

"You can't make me work with those Gryffindors!" Draco cried in outrage.

"I most certainly can," Blackmore said, with a great deal of satisfaction in her voice. "Ten points off both Gryffindor and Slytherin! Five for your insolence, and another five for being stupid enough to challenge me after your last little escapade."

The fierce rivalry and antipathy between the Houses seemed to temporarily override the boys' common sense. "But Malfoy is always out to get us," Ron protested. "He'll ruin the project just to spite us!"

"I'm not getting a failing grade because of Weasley's incompetence!" Draco snapped in response, curling his upper lip in a sneer.

"Make that twenty points!" snapped Blackmore. "Would you like to try for thirty?" The boys fell silent. "Good. Let me make this clear: your grade depends not just on successfully summoning the elemental, but on how well you work together. If you try to work independently of your partners, you will fail even if the summoning succeeds. You're dismissed early today; use the extra time to go to the library and begin your research. Except for you three--Potter, Weasley, Malfoy. I want to talk to you."

The class hastily filed out, breaking into their assigned groups. Harry, Ron, and Draco squirmed nervously in their seats as Blackmore looked down at them sternly. "Yes, I think that will do nicely as a punishment," she said. "I can't think of anything a typical Gryffindor or Slytherin would hate more than being forced to work with one another. But you will still continue to scrub bedpans or toilets afterschool, one hour per day, until Bane is cured." She smiled as the boys stared at each other in horror; what if it took weeks or even months to cure Bane? What if he was never cured? "Just be grateful that I'm not banning you from playing Quidditch as well," she added, and they looked even more horrified at that thought. "I did consider it, but I am reluctant to make your teammates suffer for your misdeeds. However, if there are anymore arguments in class or hexes thrown, you will be banned from Quidditch for the entire school year. Do I make myself clear, gentlemen?"

"Yes, Professor," the boys chorused glumly.

"Good. Now you had best head to the library and start your research."

The boys left the room, looking very subdued and humbled for once. Blackmore smiled and stroked the rabbit sitting on her desk. "Well, at least they have something in common now--they can commiserate together about how cruel and unfair the demonic Professor Blackmore is. Friendships have been founded on less. You know, Bane, you're kind of cute like this. I don't suppose you'd care to remain a bunny?" Bane growled and bared his teeth at her. Blackmore laughed, and he glared at his mistress, looking very disgruntled.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"This is all your fault," Draco complained as they sullenly trooped off to the library.

"Our fault?" Ron said indignantly. "We were just minding our own business when you--"

"Oh, knock it off, both of you," Harry said wearily. "We'll be in detention till we graduate if you keep it up. Not to mention getting banned from the Quidditch team."

The other two boys fell silent. Ron was looking forward to a repeat of last year's victory, when he had helped to win the game for Gryffindor; it was very rare that he got a chance to shine at something, when he was surrounded by so many older brothers, not to mention Harry, though he was Ron's best friend. Ron was never going to be a legendary wizard, like Harry was clearly destined to be, or smart like Hermione, but he had finally found something he was good at, and he wasn't going to risk losing his place on the team, even if meant working with Malfoy.

Meanwhile, Draco felt a little torn; if he could get Potter kicked off the team, that would increase Slytherin's chances of winning this year. They might even have a chance to win the Quidditch Cup back! But...getting Potter and Weasley in trouble would probably result in Draco being banned from the Slytherin team as well. Dylan was a natural on a broomstick, and could probably take over as Seeker--but what good was winning the Cup if Draco couldn't share in the glory? He had dreamed of the moment he'd be able to lord it over Potter, see the humiliation and defeat in his eyes. In his fantasy, Draco saw his father beaming at him proudly, although he knew that Lucius Malfoy was unlikely to be attending any Quidditch matches in the near future. But...on the other hand, Draco knew deep down that they were unlikely to defeat Gryffindor while Potter was on the team; if he got rid of Potter, at least Slytherin would win, even if Draco couldn't participate directly. The idea of making such a sacrifice for the greater good was completely foreign to Draco's nature, and he struggled inwardly for several minutes, debating whether winning the Cup was worth seeing someone else, probably Rosier, receive the glory that was rightfully Draco's. What if Dylan proved to be a better Seeker than Draco? A feeling of worry and resentment gnawed at his stomach; he thought sourly to himself that it just wasn't fair that Dylan was so damn perfect! He was handsome, charming, smart, talented at both magic and Quidditch--wasn't there ANYTHING he was bad at?! {I can beat Potter myself,} he told himself firmly. {This year I really will beat him! I'll show him, show everyone, that I'm better than him!}

By the time Draco had made his decision, they had reached the library. The other groups were already hard at work, browsing in the stacks, or sitting at the tables reading and taking notes.

"Ron, why don't you start researching the incantation?" Harry said. "I'll do the runes, and Malfoy can look up the material components."

"Who put you in charge?" Draco sneered. "I don't have to take orders from you!"

Harry took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to picture his anger draining out of him. At least the control he practiced for his Occlumency lessons was proving to be useful; he smiled a little as he thought to himself that Snape had probably not intended for him to use it in quite this way! That made him feel better, and he was able to say calmly, "Look, Malfoy, I don't like this any better than you do, but we don't have a choice. We have to work together or fail the class. Let's just get this over with as quickly as possible, okay?"

Draco looked at him suspiciously, but Potter's words made sense. "Okay," he said reluctantly. "But I don't want to do the material components," he added, just to prove that he wasn't going to let a Gryffindor push him around.

"Fine," Harry sighed. "What would you like to do, then?"

Draco blinked, surprised that Potter was being so agreeable. "Um...the runes, I guess."

"Fine," Harry repeated. He glanced at Ron, who was still glaring at Malfoy, though he had managed to keep his temper in check so far. Harry decided that their fragile new alliance probably couldn't stand much more strain, and suggested, "Shall we split up and compare notes later, then?"

"Fine," Draco said curtly, and watched the Gryffindor boys head into the stacks together. He scowled for a moment, then stomped off to look up information on runes and protective circles. But when he got to the shelves, he found that most of the books he was looking for had already been pulled off the shelf by his classmates. His mood rapidly growing blacker by the second, he set off to find his housemates. Soon enough, he spotted Nott and Zabini sitting at a table with their Gryffindor partners. They all had books lying open in front of them, and were taking notes, working together quietly, if a bit sullenly. As Draco approached he saw that, sure enough, Nott was using one of the books he wanted.

"Give me that book, Nott," Draco ordered.

Theodore looked up, startled, then automatically picked up the book, but Seamus Finnigan snatched it out of his hand. "Get your own book," he snapped. "This one's ours!"

"All the books on protective circles are checked out," Draco whined.

"That's not our problem," said Dean Thomas.

"Why don't you let Draco have the book?" Blaise suggested in a nervous but placating tone. "We can get it back from him later. The three of us are all in the same House, after all, so Draco could use it now, and Theo and I can work on it later tonight."

"We had it first," Seamus said stubbornly. "Let HIM wait till we're done with it!"

"Just give him the damn book, Finnigan!" Theodore growled. "I'll finish copying the runes later."

"No," Seamus said, refusing to give in. "It's signed out in my name, and I'm keeping it!"

Draco's face began to turn red, and Blaise quickly said in a soothing tone, "We'll bring it to you as soon as we're done with it. And Dylan said that his mother sent him all her old notes from her elemental-summoning project. Her fifth-year project was summoning an air elemental with Dylan's dad--"

"I know, I know," Draco said impatiently. He must've heard about a hundred times how Ariane Donner had met Evan Rosier in Blackmore's class--it was Dylan's favorite story, and all the girls in Slytherin, with the possible exception of Avery, seemed to think it was incredibly romantic. Personally, Draco thought Dylan was a bit of a mama's boy, but he supposed that was only natural, since Dylan's father was dead and he had been raised by his mother. Draco's father had told him privately that Evan Rosier was a fool to have risked his status in Slytherin, not to mention his life--because he had joined the Death Eaters with the intent of gaining enough power to force the Donners to allow his marriage to Ariane--all for the sake of a woman. "One who allows himself to be ruled by sentiment will never attain the ultimate height of power," Lucius Malfoy had said. "Never forget that, my son. Evan was useful to us, as Dylan shall be, but they are followers, not leaders. And Malfoys are born to be leaders."

"--so I'm sure he wouldn't mind loaning his notes to you," Zabini was saying.

"Huh?" Draco said, snapping back to the present. "Oh, yeah, he'd better not. I'll go talk to Rosier."

Blaise watched Draco leave, feeling a bit guilty for diverting him to Dylan. But Dylan always seemed to know how to handle Draco's moods and pacify him.

"Thanks a lot," Theodore said sarcastically to Dean and Seamus.

"Hey, just because you lot suck up to Malfoy, doesn't mean that we have to as well," retorted Seamus.

"You're not the ones who have to live with him!" snapped Theodore.

"I don't know what it's like in Gryffindor," Blaise said, in a quieter and less hostile voice, "but in Slytherin, Draco can make life miserable for anyone who crosses him. You might think it's fun to piss him off, but we're the ones who will suffer for it."

The two Gryffindor boys exchanged a glance, feeling a little guilty, and then resentful for having been made to feel sorry for a Slytherin. It was easy to dislike Theodore, who was sullen and abrasive, and it took no effort at all to hate Draco Malfoy, but it was a little harder to find an excuse to hate Blaise, when he was being so reasonable and polite, even after they had just gotten him into trouble with Malfoy. They almost wished he would say something rude, so they could go back to loathing the Slytherins with a clear conscience.

"Don't you ever get tired of being pushed around by Malfoy?" Dean finally asked.

Blaise shrugged. "That's life. Everybody has to put up with stuff they don't like: homework if you're a kid, a job you hate if you're an adult--"

"Working with Gryffindors," Theodore muttered.

"--so what's the point in complaining about it? It doesn't change anything."

"Why don't you just tell Malfoy to bugger off?" Seamus demanded.

Blaise and Theodore exchanged a look that clearly said, "Can they really be that stupid?"

"Do I look suicidal?" Theodore asked, scowling.

"Draco's father is a very powerful man," Blaise said carefully.

"Not anymore!" Dean protested. "He's a criminal on the run."

Blaise and Theodore exchanged another look. They both knew that only made Lucius Malfoy more dangerous, not less. "The Malfoys are still a very influential family," was all Blaise would say on that subject. "We should get back to work."

Seamus reluctantly handed the book back to Theodore, who resumed taking notes, mumbling something about thick-headed Gryffindors. Dean and Seamus began muttering under their breath about slimy Slytherins. Blaise said irritably, "Oh, shut up, all of you. Do you want to join Potter and Weasley and Malfoy in detention if Professor Blackmore hears you've been fighting?" The other boys fell silent and turned back to their books, resuming their uneasy truce.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Draco caught Dylan between classes, and the younger boy promised to lend Draco his notes, assuring him that they had extensive information on the runes required for the protective circle. Dylan even ran back to the dorm during their lunch hour to fetch the notes, which improved Draco's mood slightly. After classes were over for the day, Draco stopped by Snape's office.

"Shouldn't you be in detention right now, Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked, looking up from the papers he was grading. He smiled in a nasty way as he scrawled a failing grade across a Gryffindor student's paper in red ink. Good; if Snape was in a good mood, maybe he'd be more inclined to grant Draco's request.

"Yes, sir," Draco replied. "But I just wanted to talk to you for a moment first." Snape laid down his quill and looked at him expectantly. "Professor Blackmore's forcing us to work with Gryffindor partners in her class!" Draco burst out. "She's making me work with Potter and Weasley."

"Yes," Snape said calmly, "I know. She's very big on inter-House cooperation. She did the same thing when I was a student; I had to work with the werewolf, of all people! A most unpleasant experience, but I survived it, and I imagine you will as well. You have my condolences, though, for being stuck with Potter and Weasley."

This was not quite the response Draco had been hoping for. "But Professor, can't you do something--?"

Snape scowled at him. "Do you not recall me telling you to keep a low profile, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Yes, sir, but--"

"And do you not recall me saying that my position at Hogwarts is rather tenuous at present?"

"Yes, sir, but--"

"I warned you, and you did not heed those warnings," Snape said coldly. "Now you must suffer the consequences." Draco scowled sullenly, and Snape seemed to relent a bit, either feeling sorry for Draco, or, more likely, remembering that Draco's father was his superior in the Death Eaters. "I'm sorry, Draco," he said in a more sympathetic tone, "but you will just have to live with your punishment. Professor Blackmore is a formidable mage, and not one I care to cross."

"But you're my Head of House, and you outrank her," Draco pointed out. "You have more seniority--"

"Actually, the Professor predates me at Hogwarts," Snape said, looking a little amused. "She was my teacher when I was a student here. But you are correct; I have been teaching here for fifteen years, while Professor Blackmore taught for seven before she...ah...took an extended leave of absence, shall we say? So technically, I might have more seniority than her, but Blackmore never cared much for technicalities or rules--in case you haven't noticed. If McGonagall and I hadn't been there the other day, she might have blasted the three of you into piles of ash." Draco shuddered a little. "Yes, Professor Blackmore always did have a bad temper," Snape said, almost nostalgically, and Draco shot him a wounded look, which he ignored. "She may have been a Ravenclaw, but she comes from a long line of Slytherins who were rumored to practice the Dark Arts. And those weren't the only rumors--have your parents told you the stories about the Blackmores having demon blood?"

Draco nodded, turning pale, and asked in a hushed voice, "Is it true? Does she have demon blood?"

Snape shrugged. "I don't know. But she apparently slew three Death Eaters single-handedly--or she and whatever creature she summoned did. Either way, she's no one to trifle with. Don't antagonize her, Draco."

"Yes, sir," Draco said glumly.

"You'll only have to work with Potter and Weasley for a couple of weeks," Snape said. "Consider it an exercise in control."

"Yes, sir," Draco repeated, just as glumly.

"Now you had better head over to the hospital wing to serve your afternoon's detention before you get into more trouble."

"Yes, sir. Um...are you close to finding a cure for Bane yet, Professor?"

"I'm working on it, Malfoy. Believe me, I don't find the situation amusing." But his lips twitched slightly, and he admitted, "Well, all right, I do find Bane as a bunny rabbit rather funny--"

"Professor!" Draco cried in outrage. To his amazement, Snape smiled.

"But," Snape added, "I'd prefer not to have Professor Blackmore mad at me, and I'm almost as eager as you are to find a way to break the curse. She comes into my office at least twice a day and glowers at me and says, 'Have you found a way to undo the curse yet, Severus?'" He mimicked Blackmore's imperious tone of voice, and Draco smiled a little in spite of himself.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said. "I didn't mean to get you into trouble."

"You must learn to think before you act, Draco," Snape said, but without any heat in his voice, and Draco nodded obediently. "Well, she seems to be harassing McGonagall twice as much, so that's a slight consolation. As strict as she is, she's always been notoriously fair, and since there were two Gryffindors involved and only one Slytherin, she seems to hold Gryffindor twice as accountable."

Well, it didn't seem that way from Draco's point of view, but he knew better than to argue with Snape, and at least Snape seemed to be taking it well; he didn't want both of them mad at him! In fact, he felt rather flattered that Snape had unbent enough to joke with him a little bit.

"You're dismissed, Draco. Try to stay out of trouble from now on."

"I will, sir," Draco promised, and left.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

As soon as the boy left, Snape burst out laughing. He was still chuckling and wiping tears from his eyes when Lupin stepped out of the fireplace.

"Don't let Branwen catch you laughing, Severus," he said, but his eyes sparkled with merriment as well. "She's still quite peeved about what happened."

"But it's so funny," Snape said with a grin. "That bird terrorized us when we were children, and to see him sitting there all cute and fuzzy and twitching his nose..." He couldn't help himself, he started laughing again. Which was not a bad thing, it turned out, because Lupin locked the door then came around behind the desk and sat down on Snape's lap.

"I love the way you look when you laugh," he murmured, gently tracing the curve of Snape's lips with his fingers. "You should do it more often."

"I don't think Branwen would appreciate having Bane turned into a bunny on a regular basis," Snape said, still laughing.

"That's not what I meant," Lupin said with mock-sternness, and waggled his finger at Snape in admonishment.

"I also reminded Draco about the old rumors of the Blackmores having demon blood," Snape said, grinning widely. "It was almost like old times," he said nostalgically, "the way we older students would terrorize the first years with stories about the demonic Professor Blackmore. He completely bought it, too; you should have seen his face--he was white as a ghost, and his eyes were as big as saucers!"

"Well, it's true," Lupin pointed out. "She does have demon blood."

"Which would come as no surprise to Draco or any of her other students, I assure you," Snape said, with a low, wicked-sounding laugh.

Lupin shivered a little, and Snape saw the wolf begin to stir behind his blue eyes. "I thought you were going to be the...what was the term Tonks used? Good cop to Branwen's bad cop."

"Good and bad are relative terms, especially for a Slytherin," Snape said in a smooth, silky voice, wrapping his arms around Lupin. "Would you like to see how good...or how bad...I can be, Lupin?"

"Yes," gasped Lupin, fumbling with the fastenings on Snape's robes.

"This is very unprofessional behavior, you know," Snape said in an almost conversational tone as he began to undress Lupin as well.

"Mm-hm," Lupin agreed, kissing Snape's neck. "Quite."

"And it's all your fault," Snape continued, as his hands slipped beneath Lupin's robe and shirt and caressed his chest; Lupin gasped again. "For starting that 'quickie between classes' thing."

"A Gryffindor corrupting a Slytherin," Lupin said with a grin. "What is the world coming to?"

"It's utterly scandalous," Snape agreed, then all talk ceased as Lupin hungrily covered Snape's mouth with his own.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

The various groups in Blackmore's classes were reluctantly cooperating (she had assigned similar projects, with mixed partners, to all of her classes). There was a lot of griping going on in the Gryffindor boys' dorm, particularly from Dean Thomas. It wasn't so much about being forced to work with Blaise and Theodore--whom he reluctantly conceded were doing their share of the work without arguing--but because Ginny had been assigned to work with Dylan Rosier's group (which also consisted of Colin Creevey and Damien Pierce, but Dylan was the one that Dean was worried about).

He found no sympathy from his Slytherin partners, of course. When he told the two boys to "tell your friend Rosier to keep his hands off my girl," Theodore retorted, "Tell him yourself! Do I look like your messenger boy?"

"I swear, if he puts the moves on her--"

"I assure you," Theodore said, in a sarcastic voice worthy of Snape, "that no Slytherin in their right mind would 'put the moves'--as you so quaintly phrase it--on a Gryffindor."

"Don't you trust your girlfriend?" Blaise asked mildly.

"Well, yeah," Dean said, flustered by that unexpected question, "but..."

"Then there's no problem, right?"

"But..."

Even Seamus, his best friend, was a little tired of hearing Dean's jealous rants about Dylan Rosier. He clapped Dean on the shoulder and said, "Don't worry, mate! Ginny's not the type of girl to fool around, you know that."

"Yeah, I know, I just..."

"Dylan has half the girls in the school chasing after him--" Blaise started to say.

"Only half?" Seamus asked ironically, raising his eyebrows.

Blaise smiled a little. "So he's got no need to go poaching someone else's girlfriend."

"Can we please get back to work?" Theodore asked in an aggrieved tone.

"I just wish Rosier would pick one girl and get it over with," Seamus sighed as he picked up his book. "Then the others would finally give up on him, and settle for being consoled by one of us."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Meanwhile, in the girls' dorm, Ginny was complaining about Dean's jealousy. "He's so possessive! I've told him over and over that I'm not interested in Dylan, but it's like he doesn't believe me! I asked him, 'Why are you going out with me if you don't trust me?'"

"And what did he say?" Hermione asked patiently.

"'It's Rosier I don't trust, not you,'" Ginny replied in disgusted voice.

Parvati giggled. "Don't mind him; all the boys are jealous of Dylan!"

"You're sooo lucky that you get to work with him," Lavender sighed. "I'd gladly trade places with you!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Dylan's nice, but it's causing so much trouble with Dean!" Then she suddenly laughed and said, "If only he knew it was Damien that keeps flirting with me, not Dylan!"

Parvati and Lavender giggled. "My, aren't you the popular one?" Parvati asked archly

Ginny grinned. "Well, Damien seems to chase after anything that wears a skirt, so I don't think it's anything special about me."

"He is kind of cute," Lavender conceded, "but Dylan's still the handsomest boy in school."

Parvati and Lavender were getting along well enough with their Slytherin partners. There were a few snide remarks exchanged during their study sessions, but the four girls had discovered that they all shared the same favorite pastime: gossiping about Dylan Rosier. Parvati and Lavender expressed envy that the two Slytherin girls actually got to live in the same dorm as Dylan, so Pansy and Millicent regaled them with stories about Dylan; Parvati and Lavender found even the mundane details of his daily activities fascinating. In return, Parvati, whose sister Padma was in Ravenclaw, answered the Slytherins' questions about Lisa Turpin, the only girl Dylan had ever gone out with. Occasionally things would get a little tense when the Slytherins would haughtily say that a Gryffindor had no chance with Dylan, but then Parvati would point out that Dylan had never dated a Slytherin girl, either. Then they would all sigh and commiserate together. And even Pansy and Millicent had to agree that Dylan's parents' star-crossed love affair was incredibly romantic and tragic. Actually, the only real problem they had in working together was that they found it difficult to stop gossiping long enough to get any work done.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

About a week had gone by since Blackmore had handed out their assignments. The Professors had still not found a way to lift the curse on Bane, so Harry, Ron, and Draco were still condemned to scrubbing bedpans and toilets--with toothbrushes. It had gotten to the point where Harry could hardly bring himself to brush his teeth at night before bed, because the very sight of a toothbrush made him recoil in horror. He knew that Ron and Malfoy felt the same way, because during their last detention session, Malfoy had groaned, "I never want to see another toothbrush in my life!" Ron and Harry had found themselves nodding sympathetically for a moment before remembering that Malfoy was supposed to be the enemy.

Harry was enjoying a rare moment of leisure one Saturday morning in his dorm room--or at least he was trying to. Dean Thomas was complaining about Dylan Rosier again, and Harry was getting heartily sick of it. Even Ron, who hated Dylan Rosier almost as much as Dean did, was beginning to get a little annoyed.

"Yeah, Rosier's a swell-headed little git," he said, "but my sister's getting fed up with you. What's the matter with you; do you think Ginny would cheat on you? With a Slytherin?!"

"But Dylan makes eyes at all the girls," Dean said defensively.

"Yeah, I know that," snapped Ron, "but the point is, Ginny doesn't make eyes back at him! Or are you calling my little sister a loose woman?"

"Come on, Ron," Harry said, jumping to his feet and grabbing his friend by the arm. "Let's go to the library." {Where it's quiet and peaceful,} he added silently in his head.

"But it's Saturday," Ron protested.

"We've still got Blackmore's project to work on," Harry said, dragging him out of the room.

Ron was struggling with the incantation part of the research. He had found several different versions, and was not sure which one they should use. Harry looked at the books and notes he had spread across the study table in the library. "Well, this one's for summoning a Greater Elemental; that's way out of our league, so you can forget that. And this one's a command-type spell; Blackmore says we're suppose to 'request' aid from the elemental, so we want a supplication-type incantation. I guess either of these two would be okay."

Ron groaned, "If only Hermione would let me copy her incantation! But she just says, 'You'll never learn anything, Ron Weasley, if you don't do the work yourself!'"

Harry grinned. "Yeah, that sounds like Hermione! But you should feel sorry for her; she's stuck with Crabbe and Goyle for partners, after all."

"And being stuck with Malfoy is any better?"

Harry grimaced. "I'm not sure. Malfoy's a prat, but at least he's not stupid."

"He'll sabotage the project just to get back at us, you wait and see," Ron predicted ominously.

Harry laughed, "You're starting to sound like Professor Trelawney!" His friend gave him a wounded look. "We'll have to watch Malfoy carefully, but I don't think he'll sabotage the project if it means he'll fail, too. He's almost as obsessed about his grades as Hermione is."

"That's because he can't stand a Muggle-born girl outranking him in the class standings," Ron said smugly.

"Look, why don't you copy down both of these incantations, then show them to Hermione and ask her which one she thinks is best?" Harry asked, turning his attention back to their project. "I mean, surely she can't object to us asking for a little advice, if we've already done the research and found the incantations on our own."

"Good idea, Harry," Ron said, taking out his quill. As he began copying down the incantations, which were all in Latin, he said gloomily, "I get tongue-tied every time I try to recite the spell. Why don't they ever write spells in plain English? I'm sure to foul it up somehow; maybe you should do the actual incantation when we cast the spell."

"Me?" Harry asked in alarm. "I'm the one who ended up in Knockturn Alley when I pronounced 'Diagon Alley' wrong! I don't think that's a good idea at all!" He paused, then said reluctantly, "Maybe we could get Malfoy to do it."

"Malfoy!" Ron exclaimed. "What if he decided to summon a demon instead of an elemental?"

"He's scared of demons, remember?" Harry reminded him.

"Well, that's true," Ron grudgingly acknowledged. "And I'd almost rather face a real demon than Blackmore. If there's anything scarier than her out there, I don't wanna know about it! I never thought I'd meet a teacher scarier than Snape..."

"Just copy down the incantations," Harry said. "We'll worry about who's going to recite it later." Ron nodded and got back to work, while Harry went to the stacks to do more research. As he was browsing the shelves, he passed by a section on curses. He hesitated, then pulled several books off the shelves and took them back to the table.

As Harry began flipping through the first book, Ron looked up and asked, "Why are you reading about curses? I thought you wanted to get this project finished."

"I do, but I also don't want to scrub toilets and bedpans for the rest of the school year," Harry replied. "I was thinking maybe I could find a way to break Bane's curse in one of these books."

"If Snape and Blackmore and McGonagall can't figure it out, what makes you think you can?"

"You're probably right," Harry sighed. "But I've got to try--I'm starting to have nightmares about toothbrushes! And besides, I feel bad. It's partly my fault Bane ended up being turned into a bunny rabbit."

"Yeah, my fault, too," Ron said guiltily. "But still, Malfoy started it!"

"Yeah, but I'm going to finish it," Harry said in a determined voice. "Snape's always going on about how irresponsible I am. So if I can find a way to help Bane, I can show them that I'm taking responsibility for my actions."

"Them?" Ron asked, sounding a little bewildered. "Them who? I thought you were just talking about Snape, and who cares what he thinks?"

"Snape, Lupin, Blackmore, Dumbledore--all of them," Harry replied. He flushed a little, recalling how Lupin and the Headmaster always looked disappointed in him when he refused to acknowledge Snape's good points. "Besides," he added hastily, trying to brush aside those guilty thoughts, "if we show them that we're being mature and responsible, they'll include us more in--" He stopped himself just in time from mentioning the Order of the Phoenix in public; even though there didn't seem to be anyone within earshot, it was better to be safe than sorry. "In things," he finished lamely, but Ron understood what he was talking about and nodded.

"Okay," Ron said. "I'll help you when I finish with this."

They pored over the books, discovering that it was much easier to cast a curse than to remove one. The main problem seemed to be with the Curse of Ill Wishing. At the time, Harry had not thought that it was particularly dangerous; what it did was infect the victim with a stream of bad luck--usually small but annoying things. Pockets would suddenly develop holes, bookbags would break, the victim would be prone to clumsiness--tripping over nothing in particular, dropping and spilling things, spells would misfire...pretty much everything that could go wrong, would. Harry wondered idly if Neville Longbottom had been under such a curse, but his magical abilities, along with his confidence, had dramatically improved since he had joined Dumbledore's Army, so Harry supposed that he had suffered more from low self-esteem than a curse. In any case, the bad luck caused by the curse made it very difficult to lift, since efforts to help the victim tended to go haywire. Normally, it was difficult but not impossible to remove the curse, but apparently its effects had been strengthened when it had combined with the other two spells.

Ron snapped shut the book he had been reading. "Give it up, Harry," he said. "The teachers will have to figure it out. There are instructions here for lifting the individual curses, but nothing about what to do if three spells get mixed up together. Apparently no one's ever done it before."

"Lucky us," Harry sighed. "We're trendsetters."

"I think we're the ones cursed with bad luck," Ron said glumly. "We got stuck having to live with Snape during the summer, we got detention from Blackmore, and now we're being forced to work with that slimy git Malfoy...it would sure be nice to have some good luck for a change. Hey, maybe we could buy a good luck charm in Hogsmeade!"

"I think we need more than one good luck charm," Harry said. "We need a whole field of four leaf clovers!" Then suddenly he recalled something Blackmore had said, when Hob had first come to work for Sirius: "A hob does more than just clean and cook; it makes a house, well...happier. It chases away bad spirits that cause dissension and discord, and makes things run more smoothly...a hob is like a living good-luck charm, you might say."

"Ron," Harry said slowly, "you're a genius."

"I am?" Ron asked, looking pleased but confused.

"I've got to go talk to Blackmore!" Harry exclaimed, and ran out of the library, leaving a bewildered Ron still sitting at the table.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"...So I got to thinking," Harry explained excitedly to Blackmore, "maybe what we need is some good luck to cancel out the bad luck."

"Well, there are spells that cause good luck, but I don't think they're strong enough--"

"What about Hob?" Harry asked eagerly, as Blackmore blinked and fell silent, looking startled. "I mean, you said once that he was a living good luck charm." She remained silent and Harry's hopes fell. "I guess it was a dumb idea, huh? Ron was right; we could never think of anything that you and the other Professors hadn't already thought of."

"No, Harry," Blackmore said, much to his surprise. "It's a very good idea, and one I hadn't thought of. Hmm...let me talk to Severus." She called Professor Snape through the fireplace in her office, and he arrived a moment later.

Snape listened to Harry's suggestion, then leaned against Blackmore's desk, frowning thoughtfully as he absent-mindedly traced his thin lips with one finger. Bane crept forward and began sniffing at Snape's pockets. He stuck his nose in one pocket, causing Snape to jump with a start, and Blackmore grabbed the bunny and firmly hauled him away from the Potions Master.

"No!" she scolded. "Candy is bad for you in this form!" She told Professor Snape, "He got into some candy the students forgot in the classroom one day, and gave himself a stomachache." She turned back to her familiar and said, "And you didn't like the tonic Madam Pomfrey gave you one bit."

To his surprise, Harry saw that the normally dour Potions Master was trying very hard not to laugh, particularly when Blackmore placed a carrot in front of Bane and said, "Here, if you're hungry, you can have this for a snack." Bane stared at the carrot with such visible disgust on his face that Snape nearly lost control and let out a muffled little snort of laughter, which he quickly covered with a coughing fit when Blackmore turned around to glare at him.

"Are you ill, Severus?" Blackmore asked in a cold voice. "You seemed to have developed a sudden cough."

"Ahem, I'm fine, thank you," Snape said, clearing his throat. "I must have breathed in some ashes when I came through the fireplace," he added with an air of obviously false innocence.

"Remus does the wide-eyed innocent look far better than you do, Severus," Blackmore said caustically.

"Well, getting back to Potter's idea," Snape said, hastily changing the subject, "I must admit that it does have some merit. I don't know if it will work, but it's worth a try."

Bane looked up hopefully, and his mistress said, "Yes, I agree. Certainly nothing else we've tried has worked. We were going to Sirius's tonight for dinner, anyway, so we can try and remove the curse then."

"You're going to see Sirius tonight?" Harry asked wistfully. "I don't suppose--"

"Students aren't allowed off-campus without special permission, and you're still being punished Mr. Potter," Blackmore said sternly, but relented just a little. "But Sirius is coming to your Quidditch match next weekend, so you'll see him soon. And if your idea works, I'll restore...let's see, twenty-five points to Gryffindor and lift your detention."

Snape scowled. "There's no need to reward him for undoing the damage that he caused in the first place."

"Yes, but it is a clever idea, and should be rewarded--if it works," Blackmore said, emphasizing the "if". "And I told the three of them that their detention would last for as long as Bane remained in bunny form." She grinned. "I think that may have given Mr. Potter a little added incentive."

"Yes, ma'am!" Harry said fervently.

"Don't get your hopes up too high, Mr. Potter," Snape said sourly. "We don't know whether this will actually work or not."

Blackmore glared at him. "Honestly, Severus, one would almost think that you want Bane to be stuck in this form!"

Snape's lips twitched slightly as he looked down at the black bunny, but his expression quickly turned sober as his former teacher continued to glower at him. "Well then, I'll see you later tonight, Branwen," he said, and retreated back through the fireplace.

"You're dismissed, Mr. Potter," Blackmore said. "I'll let you know what happens."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry said, and left the office, devoutly hoping that his idea would work.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Ooh, he's so cute!" Tonks squealed as she stroked the bunny in Branwen's arms. Bane snapped at her, and she only just barely managed to pull her hand back in time to avoid being bitten. "Still has the same nasty temper, though, I see."

Meanwhile, Sirius's face was turning red and contorting itself violently as he tried to hold back his laughter; Branwen glared at him. Finally, he ran out of the room, but they could hear, "HA HA HA HA HA!" echoing from the down the hallway, which awakened the portraits, and soon Mrs. Black was screaming, "Begone from the house of my fathers!"

Branwen sighed irritably, and Lupin said helpfully, "Well, at least he had the decency to leave the room before he started laughing."

Fred and George eyed Bane with great interest, but were careful to keep a safe distance between themselves and the rabbit's teeth. "Hmm," said George thoughtfully. "We could do a variation on the Canary Creams. A Bunny Butterscotch, maybe? Or a Raspberry Rabbit? A Rocky Road Rabbit?"

Branwen was giving them an evil look, and Molly nervously snapped, "Fred!"

"I'm George, Mum."

"I don't care which one you are, knock it off!"

"Before Branwen turns YOU into a rabbit," Arthur whispered into his son's ear. "Permanently."

Both boys gulped and turned pale. "Ah, well, it probably wouldn't sell, anyway," Fred said hastily.

Snape was grinning in a rather nasty way, clearly imagining the Weasley twins running afoul of Branwen and being turned permanently into bunnies.

"Severus!" Lupin scolded.

"What?" Snape said in a wounded voice. "I didn't say anything!"

"You didn't have to," Lupin replied dryly.

Meanwhile, Sirius had managed to get himself under control and returned with Hob, who looked nervous at being under the scrutiny of so many wizards. Branwen knelt down on the floor and held out the bunny to him. Hob looked down and frowned at it. "Yes, that is a very nasty mess, indeed, all knotted up like a bunch of string.

"Can you help us?" Branwen asked.

"Hob does not know," the little hob replied. "But Hob will try." He held out his arms, and Branwen placed Bane in them. Hob sat down on the floor, holding the bunny on his lap, gently stroking it. Bane gradually relaxed, and the bad-tempered look left his face, making him look as docile and placid as a real pet bunny.

"Let's try it now," Branwen said softly to Lupin and Snape, and they nodded. Branwen cast the Aperio spell, and each of them touched their wands to a spell-thread: Branwen took the red Impediment thread, Lupin took the blue Rat-Face Hex, and Snape took the yellowish thread of the Curse of Ill Wishing. As they lifted their wands, the spell-threads stuck to them and began unraveling. They worked very slowly and carefully, pausing when they came to a place where the three threads were snarled together in a particularly complex knot. Hob carefully reached out and touched the knot, tugging gently at the threads, painstakingly working to loosen the knot, as if the spell-threads were nothing more than a handful of string. He did not completely untangle the knot, but managed to loosen it enough that the three wizards were able to carefully unweave the spell-threads from each other. They continued in this manner, with Hob's good luck apparently serving to cancel out the Curse of Ill Wishing enough to loosen the tangle of threads. It took nearly an hour, but finally the threads completely separated, and each of the wizards held one long thread of a single color attached to their wands.

They jerked their wands upward and simultaneously shouted, "Finite Incantatum!" The three threads pulled loose from the rabbit's body and vanished in a puff of smoke. When the smoke cleared, there was a slightly-dazed looking raven sitting in Hob's lap.

"Bane!" Branwen cried joyfully, scooping up her familiar and hugging him tightly--a little too tightly. The bird let out a loud, strangled squawk. "Oops, sorry about that," she said apologetically, loosening her hold on him. The bird squawked again; this time it sounded almost like a sigh of relief. Bane hopped up and took his rightful place on his mistress's shoulder.

"Well, I'll be damned," Snape muttered incredulously. "Potter's idea worked." Lupin grinned.

"Thank you, Hob!" Branwen said gratefully, and the little household spirit blushed a little.

"It was nothing. A hob's magic is very small."

"A hob's magic is limited," Branwen corrected, "but it takes a very powerful sort of magic to keep a household running smoothly and contentedly. We couldn't have done it without you. Thank you." She kissed the little man on the cheek, and his face turned bright red.

"You're welcome," Hob mumbled, looking embarrassed but pleased, and vanished.

The wizards sat down at the dinner table together, and Sirius broke open a bottle of wine to celebrate the lifting of the curse. As Sirius handed a glass of wine to Branwen, Bane reached down and pecked his hand sharply.

"Ouch!" Sirius said, nearly dropping the glass; a little of the wine slopped over the side and spilled onto the tablecloth. He rubbed his wounded hand, saying, "What did you do that for, you ungrateful bird?"

"Probably payback for you laughing at him earlier," Snape said with a wicked grin.

"Yeah, tell me you didn't laugh at him, too," Sirius said sullenly.

"'A pity it isn't closer to Easter,'" Lupin reminded Snape, his blue eyes sparkling with laughter.

"Bane knows better than to bite me," Snape said in a haughty voice as the raven glared at him. "I did just help to remove the curse, and besides..." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of candy. Bane cawed eagerly. "Friends?" Snape asked, just the faintest hint of a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. Bane nodded eagerly, and Snape tossed the candy across the table, Bane caught it in his beak, tore off the foil wrapper with one foot as he balanced precariously on Branwen's shoulder with the other, and swallowed the piece of chocolate in one bite.

"You mean I have to start bribing the damn bird not to attack me?" Sirius grumbled.

Lupin looked thoughtful for a moment. "You know, Severus, when you threatened Bane that day in the workroom not to bite you or he'd never get another treat again..."

"What of it?"

"Didn't you just reveal to your students that the big bad Potions Master is a softie who slips treats to Branwen's pet raven?" Lupin asked with a look of wide-eyed innocence.

Snape looked horrified, and Lupin fought to keep a straight face, but soon doubled over with laughter. "It's not funny, Lupin!" Snape said indignantly.

"S-sorry, Severus," Lupin gasped, but he couldn't stop laughing. Branwen and Tonks were laughing as well, Sirius had a wide--and only slightly vindictive--grin on his face, Fred and George were chuckling, and even Arthur and Molly were struggling not to laugh.

Snape gave them all his best threatening glare, but it cowed only Fred and George, who immediately went pale and ceased their laughter. He had been their teacher for so long that fear of the Potions Master was still an involuntary reflex. "I'll just have to show my students that I'm not a 'softie,' as you put it, Lupin," Snape said in a cold and determined voice. Fred and George shuddered a little, and felt very sorry for Snape's students. "Besides," Snape continued, "they were so out of their minds with fear of Branwen, that I doubt any of them noticed what I said..."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Blackmore's been in a vile mood lately," Theodore said glumly. "I hope they cure her stupid bird soon." He and his friends were sitting in Dylan's room doing their homework.

"If they can't, maybe she'll kill Potter and Weasley and Malfoy," Damien said hopefully. "I thought she was going to, when she saw Bane turned into a bunny!" Then he frowned slightly and said, "I just thought of something."

"What?" Blaise asked curiously.

"When Snape was making fun of Bane, saying he wished it was Easter or something--"

Dylan snickered. "Who would've thought Snape had a sense of humor?"

"--and Bane was about to bite him, Snape said something like, 'If you bite me, Bane, you'll never get another treat from me again!'"

"Did he?" Dylan asked, frowning in thought. "Yeah, come to think of it, he did."

"Snape gives treats to Blackmore's raven?" Blaise asked incredulously. "That's pretty hard to believe!"

Damien laughed. "Yeah, I could picture Hagrid giving treats to the Professor's familiar, maybe even Dumbledore or Lupin, but Snape? A soft touch? For that bird?"

Blaise grinned. "Bane's scary, and has a bad temper, just like Snape! If you think about it, they make a good pair."

"My mum told me they thought Bane was her demon familiar when she was a first-year," Damien said. "Maybe Snape feeds the bird because he's scared of it! You know, to keep it from attacking him."

"Snape?" Theodore snorted. "Scared? Of a BIRD? Now that's ridiculous!"

The four boys laughed, then Dylan said, "But seriously, Snape's not so bad, really." His three friends stared at him incredulously. "Really," Dylan insisted. "I mean he's been pretty nice to me ever since I started here--well, relatively nice, I mean. For Snape."

"Yeah, he does seem to like you," Damien agreed. "Your dad must've been a good friend of his. I suppose it doesn't hurt that you're really great at Potions."

"Snape's all right," Theodore said, surprising the other boys, and himself as well. Suddenly realizing he might have said too much, he hastily added, "I mean, he's no one to cross, but he looks out for the Slytherins."

"Yeah, I guess," Damien said dubiously. "Looks out for Draco, anyway."

"And he puts the Gryffindors in their place," Theodore added firmly.

"Aw, it's not so bad working with the Gryffindors," Damien said.

"Don't let Malfoy hear you say that," Theodore warned.

Damien grinned. "I'm not stupid. But that Ginny Weasley is pretty cute."

Theodore rolled his eyes, and Blaise said with a grin, "She has a jealous boyfriend. Except he's jealous of the wrong guy! Dean Thomas told me and Theo to tell Dylan to stay away from 'his girl'."

"Me?" Dylan asked, startled. "I've never looked twice at Ginny Weasley! In fact, I got detention for being rude to her at the beginning of term! And she's never flirted with me."

"Unlike Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown," Damien sighed. "It's not fair, that all the prettiest girls in the school are always drooling over you."

"What is your fixation with Gryffindor girls, Pierce?" Theodore growled.

"It's not a Gryffindor fixation," Damien protested. "I admire any beautiful woman. Cho Chang, Padma Patil, and Lisa Turpin are probably the best-looking girls in Ravenclaw, and in Hufflepuff--"

"Never mind," sighed Theodore. "But you know what Malfoy will do to you if he catches your with a Gryffindor girl--"

"I'm not going to touch Ginny Weasley," Damien said, with a tone of righteous indignation in his voice. Then he grinned. "But there's no harm in looking, right?"

Dylan and Blaise laughed, as Theodore sighed again. "Let's hope not," he said darkly.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Neville, Hermione, Crabbe, and Goyle were in the Incantations workroom, trying to put their project together. Hermione could have easily performed the summoning by herself, but Blackmore had said that their grade depended on how well they worked together, and quite frankly, it was difficult finding something for Crabbe and Goyle to do. They misspelled the incantations when they tried to copy them from the textbooks, and mispronounced the Latin words when they tried to recite them. At present, they were trying to draw the protective runes on the floor, and not doing very well at that, either. So far, the only useful thing they had done was gather some feathers and herbs for the material components of the spell, which was accomplished by a couple of quick trips to the Owlery and to Snape's office. Since Crabbe and Goyle were Slytherins, Snape had handed the herbs over without giving them a hard time.

"This isn't going to work!" Crabbe said in frustration, throwing the stick of red chalk he had been using across the room. "We're no good at this!"

"I thought we'd be working with Nott and Malfoy," whined Goyle. "I thought they'd be taking care of the runes."

"Well, you're stuck with me and Neville," Hermione retorted, trying--and not quite succeeding--to keep the impatience out of her voice.

"You do it," Crabbe told her. "You're better at it than we are, little Miss Top-of-the-Class-Standings."

"It doesn't matter who's better at it!" Hermione snapped. "Professor Blackmore says we all have to work together or we'll fail!"

"We're gonna fail!" moaned Goyle.

"We have less than a week to get this together!" Neville said anxiously. "My grandmother's going to kill me if I fail a class! How hard can it be to draw a rune? All you have to do is copy the way it's drawn in the book!"

Hermione blinked, looking a little shocked at hearing Neville talk back to anyone, much less a Slytherin he had been terrified of last term. She wasn't sure whether it was the confidence he had gained as a member of Dumbledore's Army or his fear of his grandmother that had fueled his retort.

"Don't you dare try and push me around, you Squib!" Crabbe shouted.

"Who're you calling a Squib?!" Neville shouted back, turning red.

"Enough!" said Hermione, stepping between them. She placed a hand on Neville's shoulder and said in a soothing tone, "We've been working for over an hour; no wonder everyone's getting stressed out. Why don't we all take a break and cool off?" Neville nodded curtly and left the room. Hermione left too, thinking she'd go for a walk, but then remembered that she had left her bookbag in the workroom. She didn't quite trust the Slytherin boys not to mess with it, so she headed back, and to her surprise, found Crabbe and Goyle sitting morosely together in the corner of the room. Goyle's head was bent down and he was sniffling a little as Crabbe patted him on the shoulder.

"Take it easy, Goyle," he was saying.

"We're gonna flunk," Goyle sniffled. "Snape won't help us with Blackmore; he's too scared of her himself. And my mum is gonna tell me I'm stupid and no good, just like my dad..."

"Gregory?" Hermione said softly.

The two boys looked up; Goyle with an expression of horror, and Crabbe with anger. Goyle hastily wiped his face on his sleeve. "What do you want, Mudblood?" Crabbe snapped. "Come to gloat at us?"

Hermione shook her head, but the boys didn't look convinced. "If you tell anybody you saw me crying, I'm gonna kill you!" Goyle threatened.

"Everybody feels sad sometimes," Hermione said sympathetically. "It's nothing to be ashamed of." The Slytherins just looked confused and suspicious. "But I won't tell anyone; my word of honor."

"Not even Potter and your little buddies?" Goyle demanded.

"Not Harry, not anyone," Hermione promised. "My word as a Gryffindor." The boys snorted derisively, but looked slightly appeased. "But look, there's nothing to be upset about...you're having a little trouble with the runes, but I'm sure with some practice--"

"We're stupid, don't you get it?" Goyle shouted. "We're not like you, Miss Smarty-Pants, who gets good grades without even trying! Everybody knows it, even Malfoy--he says he's the brains and we're the brawn, that's all we're good for! We only pass our classes every year because Snape makes sure that we don't flunk out!"

"But Snape's scared of Blackmore," Crabbe said glumly. "Never thought I'd meet a teacher scarier than Snape."

"You're not stupid," Hermione said gently. "It's just...well, some people are better than others at certain things. Everyone is good at something."

"We're good at beating people up," Crabbe said. "That's about it."

"I'm sure there must be something else," Hermione insisted. "Maybe you just haven't found it yet."

The boys stared at her in bewilderment. "Everyone thinks we're stupid, even our mums," Goyle said. "They say we're just like our dads."

Hermione looked distressed. "Why would they say that? I mean, they wouldn't have married your dads if there wasn't something about them that they liked."

The boys looked even more confused, and stared at her as if she were speaking a foreign language. "What are you talking about, Granger?" Crabbe asked. "Liking has nothing to do with getting married."

"I guess a Mudblood like you wouldn't know about that," Goyle said, but he didn't sound particularly hostile. "In pureblood families, marriages are arranged. Our dads might not be smart, but they're old blood and old money--a good catch for a girl from a lower-ranked family. At least, that's what my Grandma says."

"Your parents didn't love each other?" Hermione asked, looking astounded and a little horrified.

"What's love got to do with it?" Crabbe asked, scratching his head.

"You mean someday you'll have to marry some girl your parents choose, whether you like it or not?"

Crabbe and Goyle nodded. "You mean Muggles get to choose who they marry?" Goyle asked. Hermione nodded. "Wow!"

"Nobody'd choose to marry us," Crabbe muttered. "You'd better be glad we're purebloods, Goyle, or we'd be single for the rest of our lives."

"Maybe you'll meet someone special one day," Hermione said hopefully, and the boys stared at her like she'd lost her mind.

"What do you care, anyway?" Crabbe demanded.

"Professor Blackmore said we have to work together," she reminded him. "And the Sorting Hat said all the Houses have to unite."

"Oh, the Sorting Hat," Crabbe scoffed. "Rubbish."

"Anyway, getting back to the project..." Hermione said.

"We're imcompe--incompa--" Goyle stuttered.

"Incompetent?" Hermione suggested helpfully.

"We're hopeless!" Goyle wailed.

"It's not hopeless," Neville said quietly from the doorway. The other three children looked up, wondering how long he had been standing there. "Look," he said, "I'm sorry I snapped at you before."

"Why're you Gryffindors suddenly being so nice to us?" Crabbe asked suspiciously.

"Because I know what it's like to have everyone call me useless and incompetent," Neville replied solemnly. "You're not the only one who's called me a Squib, you know. And I was pretty hopeless at magic; you've seen me melt cauldrons in Snape's class. But I managed to pass my Potions O.W.L. and get into his advanced class. If I can do that, you can do this project."

"How did you pass, anyway?" Goyle wanted to know.

Neville smiled a little. "It was a lot easier without Professor Snape hovering over me and making me nervous. And now that I know I can do it, he doesn't make me so nervous--well, not as much as before, anyway. And Harry and Hermione helped me a lot, helped me practice my magic. When you keep telling yourself that you can't do it, you're bound to fail. If you start thinking that you can, well...that makes it easier."

"Positive thinking?" Crabbe asked incredulously. "THAT'S your secret?" Neville grinned and nodded.

"Look, let's try this again," Hermione said. "One step at a time, don't rush it. This rune is pretty easy, it's just like writing a 'Y' lying on its side. There, that's good! And this one's like a 'Y' too, only the middle line extends up through the top so it looks sort of like a tree. Good! And this one--"

"That's too hard!" whined Goyle.

"It's not so hard, if you break it down into steps," Hermione said patiently. "First, draw a circle. Good. Then draw another one, overlapping just a little on top of the first circle. Good..."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

"Our presentation's due on Friday," Draco said. "Is everything ready, Potter?"

Harry looked down at the circle Draco had inscribed on the workroom floor. "Protective circle looks good. I've got the material components: incense, feathers from Hedwig, primrose, vervain, and yarrow. And I've got our gift for the elemental." He held up a brightly colored pinwheel, blew on it gently, and watched the wheel spin around in a blur of color.

"A child's toy," Draco sneered.

"Our textbook says that air elementals--at least the little ones--like toys," Harry said calmly. "Things that you can play with in the wind, like pinwheels or kites."

Draco scowled. "A proper sorcerer wouldn't bother with gifts; he'd just command the elemental to do what he wanted."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe so, but this is the way Blackmore said to do it. If you don't like it, go argue with her."

Of course Draco was not about to do that. "And what about the incantation?" he snapped.

"I've got it here," Ron said, holding up a piece of parchment.

"Have you practiced it?" Draco demanded. "I want to make sure you're not going to summon up a demon by mistake," he said sarcastically.

"Um...let's see. Aeris elementum ap...appella...no, um, appello..."

Draco groaned. "We're never going to summon anything at this rate! Potter, you do it!" Harry took the paper and began reciting the spell, also stumbling over the words.

"Do I have to do everything myself?" Draco complained. "Give it here!" He snatched the parchment out of Harry's hands, and recited the spell perfectly. Harry winked at Ron while Draco was staring down at the paper.

"That's great, Draco," Harry said innocently. "I guess you should read the incantation."

"Guess I'll have to," Draco growled, staring at Harry suspiciously.

"Ron and I will help with the circle, then," Harry said. "It's only fair."

"Damn right," Draco snapped, but he seemed a little confused. "I can't wait for this project to be over!"

"Me neither!" Ron said fervently, and Harry nodded.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Theodore Nott's group summoned their elemental without a hitch. Parvati Patil's group had a little trouble when the elemental nearly broke free of their control when Lavender stumbled a little over her words while reciting the incantation. The elemental hurled itself against the invisible barrier of the protective circle, but Millicent shouted out a repelling spell, one Lupin had taught them, and the elemental retreated meekly back to the center of the circle, giving Lavender time to recover.

"You were a little careless there, Miss Brown," Blackmore said after they were done. "But that was quick thinking on your part, Miss Bulstrode. Good recovery, good teamwork. Full marks to your group." The four girls beamed at each other, and Blackmore smiled just a little.

Hermione's group worked together, all four of them inscribing the runes in the protective circle, Goyle, Crabbe, and Neville working very slowly and laboriously. And they recited the spell together, each of them saying one word in turn. Goyle and Crabbe had their spell words written down on flash cards (Hermione's suggestion), one word to each card, and they cast aside the cards once they had finishing reciting their word.

"Aeris," said Crabbe.

"Elementum," said Goyle, pronouncing the word very carefully.

"Aquilo," Neville said.

"Animus," Hermione said.

"Invito," Crabbe said, starting the cycle again. They continued in this manner until the elemental appeared. It took the form of a nearly transparent, fairy-like little woman with wings growing out of her back. Hermione offered it their gift, a peacock tailfeather she had found at the zoo and kept as a souvenir. The elemental admired the brightly-colored feather and accepted it. She then sent it out on its "mission"; Blackmore had told them that air elementals were used mostly to carry messages or gather information. Hermione whispered something to the elemental, who nodded and flew off. She returned a couple of minutes later, perched on Hermione's shoulder, whispering something into her ear, then vanished.

Hermione grinned. "I sent her on a scouting mission to find out what's for dinner tonight. She says it's roast chicken with mashed potatoes and peas, and pumpkin pie with whipped cream for dessert."

"Well, that's very useful to know," Draco muttered sarcastically under his breath.

Apparently Blackmore's hearing was very good. "It was just an example, Mr. Malfoy," she said in a sharp voice. "In time of war, for instance, an air elemental could be used to spy on the enemy camp. But there is no war at Hogwarts, now is there?" The Gryffindors and Slytherins eyed each other uneasily.

"No, ma'am," Draco mumbled.

Blackmore turned back to Hermione's group. "Very good, all of you! I'm especially impressed by how well you all worked together. Full marks."

Goyle and Crabbe beamed at each other; they had never before gotten full marks on any assignment during their entire time at Hogwarts. Draco scowled, but they didn't seem to notice.

"All right, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy. It's your turn."

Bane glared at them balefully from his perch on Blackmore's shoulder; he still had not forgiven them for his little "accident". The boys tried to ignore him as they prepared the spell: Harry set up a small brazier in the center of the room, burning incense, feathers, and herbs, and then the three boys inscribed the protective circle and runes on the floor around it. Finally, Draco recited the incantation, and a little whirlwind rose up out of brazier, forming itself into a birdlike form. It flew to the edge of the circle and hovered there, waiting.

"Will you accept this gift in exchange for a favor?" Harry asked nervously, holding up the pinwheel. The air-bird looked at it curiously, flapping its wings and sending out a little gust of wind that ruffled Harry's hair and made the pinwheel spin. The elemental looked delighted and nodded eagerly. "Then please take this message to Professor Lupin: Harry Potter sends his greetings, and asks if you will attend the Quidditch match this weekend."

The elemental flew off and returned shortly; it opened its beak and Professor Lupin's cheerful voice came out of it: "Greetings, Harry! Congratulations on successfully completing your project! I'll definitely be at the match to cheer your team on--and Draco's too, of course; as a teacher, I can't play favorites." The elemental took the pinwheel from Harry's hand and vanished.

Draco, Harry, and Ron all frowned at Lupin's words, but Blackmore smiled and said, "Well done! Full marks to your group." Then she turned to address the entire class, "I'm very pleased with all of you for working so well together. So you see, it's not impossible for your two Houses to cooperate with each other." The class scowled at her, and to their amazement, she laughed merrily. "Forty points to Gryffindor, and forty to Slytherin. As for homework..." The class groaned, and she grinned at them. "Since you did so well on this project, as a reward I won't assign any homework this weekend. Enjoy the Quidditch match tomorrow. Class dismissed."

The students stared at each other in disbelief, hardly believing their good luck. They practically ran out of the classroom before she could change her mind. Out of habit, Pansy, Millicent, Parvati, and Lavender left together, as if forgetting that they were no longer working together.

"You're going to the match tomorrow, right?" Pansy asked.

"Of course!" Parvati replied. "I'd never miss a chance to see Dylan play!"

"He's sooo handsome in that green uniform," sighed Lavender.

"But who are you going to cheer for, Slytherin or Gryffindor?" Millicent asked.

Parvati and Lavender frowned slightly. "We'll have to cheer for both, I guess," Lavender said.

"Not for Slytherin," Parvati corrected. "Just for Dylan."

"It's the same thing!" Pansy said.

"Not really..."

Draco scowled at the girls as they walked down the corridor, completely absorbed in their conversation. "Women!" he said in a disgusted tone.

"Look on the bright side, Draco," Theodore said. "The Gryffindor girls will be cheering our team on over their own--bet Potter and company won't like that!"

"Cheering Dylan on," Draco corrected sullenly, but then he smiled a little. "Heh, but you're right, the Gryffindor boys won't like that! Hmm...that gives me an idea. Come on, I've got to send my owl out to Hogsmeade..."
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

The next day, when Dylan came down to the Great Hall for breakfast, several girls from various Houses came up to him and said, "We'll be cheering you on today, Dylan!" They each held up a rose with green and silver ribbons tied around it in a jaunty bow. One girl, a pretty dark-haired Hufflepuff in his year group, said, "Good luck!" then kissed him on the cheek and ran away before he had time to react. The other girls squealed and shrieked in outrage, running after her. One Ravenclaw girl ran back and kissed him on the other cheek, saying, "For good luck," then blushed furiously and ran after the others.

"You can kiss me for luck, too!" Damien called after them, but they ignored him. "Come on, Romeo," he said, grabbing Dylan's arm and leading his slightly-stunned friend to the Slytherin table. "We'd better find our seats before you get trampled by a horde of over-enthusiastic fans." As they made their way through the hall, they noticed Pansy, Millicent, and a couple of other Slytherin girls carrying baskets filled with the beribboned roses, walking down the aisles and passing them out to practically every girl in the school.

"What's going on?" Dylan asked Draco, who was sitting at the Slytherin table, looking very smug.

"I'm organizing your fan club, Rosier," Draco said cheerfully. "No need to thank me."

"My WHAT?!"

Draco sighed. "You're the most popular boy in school, Rosier, there's no fighting it. So I decided I might as well put your popularity to good use. Actually, it was Nott's idea..."

Dylan glared at Theodore, who frantically mouthed behind Draco's back, "It wasn't my idea!"

"You see," Draco continued, "we overheard Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown saying they would cheer you on in today's match even though they're Gryffindors. And Nott said that would really tick off Potter and his crew. So I thought, why not build on that, get all the girls to cheer for you, and really unnerve the Gryffindor team? So I sent my owl to Hogsmeade and put in a rush order for these flowers."

"B-but it must have cost a lot," Dylan protested.

Draco flapped his hand in a dismissive gesture. "A mere drop in the bucket, Rosier. I assure you it doesn't put the slightest dent in the Malfoy bank account. And anything that helps us win a game is worth it. Smile nice for your fans, now, Rosier." Another group of girls walked by on their way to their tables, waving their roses at Dylan. "Aren't I a genius, Rosier?"

"Positively brilliant," Dylan said weakly.

"Would you like a rose?" Pansy asked as she worked her way down the Gryffindor table. "Please cheer our Chaser on."

"Roses for Rosier!" Parvati said delightedly. "How clever! How romantic!"

Lavender sniffed her rose. "They smell so pretty!"

"Can a smell be 'pretty'?" Seamus asked sarcastically.

"Of course," she replied, unperturbed.

"Get those things out of here!" Ron shouted. "This is the Gryffindor table! Go peddle your stupid flowers at Slytherin!"

"I want a rose!" shouted a Gryffindor girl.

"Me too!" shouted another.

"Inter-House cooperation," Pansy said smugly as she continued to hand out flowers. "There's nothing wrong with cheering on a friend, no matter what House he's in. I'm sure that's what Professors Blackmore and Lupin would say."

Ron clenched his fists and rose to his feet. "Why you--"

Millicent immediately stepped in front of her friend. "Go ahead, try it, Weasley," she said in a threatening tone. "Hit a girl, show everybody what a big man you are. But this girl hits back." Millicent was tall and what might charitably be called "solidly built".

"Give it up, Weasley," Seamus whispered. "She's got bigger muscles than you."

Ron blushed, and Pansy and Millicent glared at Seamus--and oddly enough, so did Parvati and Lavender.

Hermione said, "Don't be an idiot, Ron! If you start a fight, you won't be allowed to play today, and then what will happen to the Gryffindor team?"

Ron scowled and dropped back into his seat. "Like a rose, Granger?" Pansy asked, holding one out to her. Hermione hesitated, her gaze flickering over to Dylan for a moment.

"You're not going to take one of those, are you?!" Ron howled.

"I...well...I suppose I shouldn't," Hermione said uncertainly. "I mean, it's nothing against Dylan, but..."

Pansy dropped the rose on the table in front of her. "Well, I'll leave this here in case you change your mind."

"Want one, Ginny?" Millicent asked with a sly grin. She'd heard the story about how Ginny's boyfriend was insanely jealous of her working with Dylan.

"I'm a Chaser for Gryffindor," Ginny replied coldly. "I haven't got time to be waving a flower around for--"

"You'd damn well better not take one of those!" Dean snapped.

"Excuse me?" Ginny asked him, in an even frostier voice. "Who are you to tell me what I can and can't do?"

"Your boyfriend!" Dean said.

"My boyfriend, not my master, and not for much longer if you keep this up," Ginny retorted.

"Keep what up?" demanded Dean.

Ginny ignored him and reached over and snatched a rose out of Millicent's basket. "Thank you very much," she said coolly. "I can't hold this while I'm flying on a broomstick; I don't suppose you have a pin or something I could borrow?" Millicent grinned, reached into her pocket, and handed Ginny a safety pin. "Thank you," Ginny said, pinning the rose to the front of her robe.

Dean spluttered with rage, and Ron turned to Harry saying, "You're not going to let her wear that are you? You're the team Captain--do something!"

Harry was sitting there with his mouth hanging open, too stunned to respond. Ginny was staring at him with a defiant look, almost daring him to try and tell her what to do. Harry wondered when shy little Ginny Weasley had become so tough and formidable. "Um," Harry said hesitantly, "I'm not sure it's really appropriate for a Gryffindor team member to wear Slytherin colors..."

"A stupid rose and a piece of ribbon aren't going to affect how I play, Harry," Ginny snapped.

"Well, of course not," Harry said in a placating tone. "But it might affect team morale..."

"Then maybe the team should concentrate more on playing than on what I'm wearing!" she retorted.

While Harry was trying to decide how to respond, Dumbledore said from the head table, "All right, everyone please take your seats!" Pansy and Millicent hurried back to their own table, but they had already passed out most of their roses. "Today of course is the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Good luck to both teams!" He raised his glass in salute, and the students and faculty did likewise.

As they started breakfast, Ron said accusingly to Parvati and Lavender, "You're a couple of traitors, cheering for Slytherin!"

"We're not cheering for Slytherin," Parvati said, giving him a disdainful look. "We're cheering for Dylan."

"It's the same thing!"

"No, it's not," Lavender retorted. "We're cheering for Gryffindor, too," she said, holding up a red and gold Gryffindor pennant. "But there's nothing wrong with supporting a friend, even if he's in a different House."

"He's not your friend!" Ron said, growing angrier by the minute. "He's just some boy you drool over!"

"Stop it!" Hermione said. "This is exactly what Malfoy wants, Ron--he wants you to get flustered and lose your cool on the Quidditch field, just like he did last year with that song. Just ignore him!"

"You hear that?" Ron demanded. "You're helping Malfoy with his little plot!"

"You're the one who's helping him," Parvati said scornfully. "Getting all upset over a little flower." She sniffed at her rose.

"Whether or not we carry a rose shouldn't make any difference in how you play," Lavender pointed out. "A rose doesn't catch the Quaffle or chase after a Snitch, after all."

"But...but..."

"Stop it, Ron," Harry said, laying a hand on his friend's arm. "I don't like it either, but Hermione's right. Malfoy's trying to get to us." He jerked his head over towards the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy was watching the argument at Gryffindor table with great relish. "If you let him get to you, he's won. Save your energy for the game; then we'll show those Slytherins that we don't need dirty tricks to win!"

Ron nodded, looking very determined. "Yeah, we'll show those slimy gits! How great is your precious Dylan, if he has to resort to cheating to win?"

"Handing out roses isn't cheating," Parvati said indignantly.

"I'm sure it was Malfoy's idea, not Dylan's," Hermione added, and Ron glared at her.

"You boys are all so jealous of Dylan," Lavender sighed.

"I am NOT jealous!"

"Save it for the game, Ron!" Harry pleaded. He glared at Malfoy, who was snickering with his cronies, but he had to admit that Dylan looked more mortified than smug.

Meanwhile, at the head table, Lupin asked, "Did you know about this, Severus?"

Snape was staring at the sea of roses and ribbons with a bemused look on his face. "No, I didn't," he replied, too distracted to remember to be rude to Lupin.

"Mr. Malfoy is quite...creative...it seems," Blackmore said with an amused smile. "That's a stunt worthy of Dylan's father, actually."

"Yes, and there was the 'Weasley Is Our King' stunt last year," Snape mused.

"Draco seems suited for a career in advertising or publicity," Lupin laughed.

"I seriously doubt it," Hagrid muttered darkly. "He'll turn out like his father, mark my words."

"It's our job to make sure that doesn't happen," Lupin said gently, as Snape glared at Hagrid, who gave Lupin a skeptical look.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

The two teams took their places on the Pitch; a number of roses and green and silver ribbons could be seen waving from all sections of the stands. Lavender and Parvati, like many of the other Gryffindor girls, waved a rose in one hand and a Gryffindor pennant in the other, although the boys were glaring at them. Hermione waved only a red and gold pennant, but tucked out of sight in the inside pocket of her robe was the rose that Pansy had left on the table. She had started to leave it behind after breakfast, knowing that it would only upset Ron and Harry if she took it, thus playing into Malfoy's hands, but something made her go back after the boys went to get ready for the game. She tucked the rose into her pocket, telling herself that there was no harm done as long as nobody knew about it. She still wanted Gryffindor to win, of course, but she silently cheered--while Parvati and the other girls cheered openly and loudly--every time Dylan made a pass or scored a goal, although she felt a bit guilty about it. But she also loudly cheered on Ron and Ginny and the other Gryffindor players.

The Gryffindors were playing with energy and a kind of grim determination; Dylan was afraid that Draco's little stunt might have had the opposite effect of what was intended, making them play better rather than worse. He was a little surprised to see that Ginny was still wearing the rose and ribbons pinned to the front of her uniform, though.

It had not escaped Damien's notice either. Ginny had the Quaffle, and was about to try and toss it through one of the Slytherin rings, when Damien flew by overhead and shouted, "Nice rose, Ginny!"

Startled and a little flustered, Ginny fumbled the throw, and the Quaffle fell far short of the goal. Dylan saw his chance and immediately swooped down and grabbed it. He passed it to Damien just as the other two Gryffindor Chasers caught up to him.

"You Slytherins fight dirty!" one shouted.

"All's fair in love and Quidditch," Dylan retorted, then dropped down low as a Bludger shot by over his head. The Gryffindor Chasers had to pull up short to avoid being hit by their own Bludger. Dylan laughed and flew on ahead in time to see Damien manage to get the Quaffle past the Gryffindor Keeper and score a goal.

"Yes!" Damien shouted, pumping his fist in the air, thrilled to score a goal early in his very first game. Weasley looked furious, and Dylan grinned; revenge was sweet. He felt a little guilty about Damien using the rose to fluster Ginny (though not guilty enough to not take advantage of her mistake), but he felt only satisfaction about scoring a goal against her brother, who had bad-mouthed Dylan ever since his first day at Hogwarts.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Up in the stands, the Donners watched from the Slytherin section. Pansy Parkinson, recognizing Ariane, had given her and Goewin two of the leftover roses. The normally dignified Ariane waved her rose and shouted with uncharacteristic abandon, "Go Dylan! That's my boy!" Math smiled at her indulgently. Ariane turned to Goewin and said, "Look at all the roses! I knew Dylan would be a heartbreaker!"

Goewin smiled wanly and said, "I just hope it doesn't go to his head."

"Are you all right, Goewin?" Ariane asked, giving her young aunt a look of concern. "You're looking a little pale.

Math frowned. "Yes, my dear, you don't look good. You didn't have much appetite at breakfast this morning, and you haven't been sleeping well lately."

"I've been having bad dreams," Goewin said. "Not surprising, considering that the Death Eaters are on the loose. And I was feeling a bit nauseous this morning; I think I might be coming down with the flu."

"Maybe you should go to the hospital wing and lie down," Math said, looking worried.

"No, dear, I'm fine," Goewin insisted. "I don't want to miss Dylan's game. I'll go see Madam Pomfrey and ask her for a tonic after the game is over."

"Well, if you're sure you'll be all right," Math said, not looking quite convinced.

"I'll be fine. Oh look, Dylan has the ball!"

"The Quaffle, Goewin," Ariane corrected. "Get away from my boy, you Gryffindor brute!"

"He deliberately hit Dylan!" Goewin said indignantly as one of the Gryffindor Chasers collided with Dylan.

"Foul!" Madam Hooch called.

Math smiled. His wife had some color back in her cheeks and appeared to be feeling better, so he set aside his worries and turned his attention back to the game.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

The game was a heated and very close one. Gryffindor and Slytherin were dead even in points, and both sides had each had a foul called against them, both for jostling a player on the other team. Meanwhile, Malfoy and Potter were both circling the Pitch, looking for the Golden Snitch.

Finally, as Dylan had the Quaffle and was heading towards the Gryffindor goals, the Snitch came into view and Potter and Malfoy were racing furiously to catch it. To Dylan's surprise, he saw the Snitch heading straight towards him, and he was faced with a serious dilemma. He could catch the Snitch, but since he was not the Seeker, it would be considered a snitchnip, a foul, and wouldn't count. On the other hand, Potter had pulled a few feet ahead of Malfoy, and Gryffindor would probably win if he did nothing. He had a split second in which to make a decision, and he acted almost without thinking.

"Draco!" he shouted. "Pull up!" And he hurled the Quaffle right at the Snitch. It knocked the Snitch astray, just as Potter was reaching out to grab it. It shot straight up into the air, and Draco shot up after it before a startled Potter could recover, and reached out and grabbed hold of the Snitch.

The stands burst into pandemonium. The Slytherins were cheering wildly, while the Gryffindors were shouting, "Foul!" Madam Hooch, the referee, was scratching her head and consulting the rule book. Meanwhile, the Slytherins weren't waiting for an official ruling, and were pouring out of the stands onto the Quidditch Pitch. The Slytherin team landed, Draco holding the Snitch up triumphantly.

"Great play, Dy--" Damien started to shout.

"Yes, great play, Draco!" Dylan said loudly, clapping Malfoy on the back. "Great catch, you won the game!" He knew that Draco would be jealous if he took the credit for winning the game. He didn't mind giving it to Draco; it was enough for Dylan to know that he had helped to win the game--he didn't need any accolades. Of course, assuming that Hooch didn't rule it a foul...

The Slytherin spectators mobbed the team and lifted Draco and Dylan up on their shoulders, cheering loudly. Draco grinned at Dylan ecstatically, for once not minding sharing the glory with someone else, and Dylan grinned back in relief.

"You and me, Rosier!" Draco shouted, just barely able to make himself heard over the roar of the crowd. "We make a great team!"
___________________________________________________________________________________________________

Up in the stands, Snape's jaw dropped open as Dylan all but knocked the Snitch out of Potter's hands and into Draco's. "YES!" he shouted. "Finally!" He was so ecstatic that he almost forgot himself and hugged Lupin. But he had to hug someone or burst, so he hugged a startled Branwen, who laughed and hugged him back. To hell with his Death Eater image; he could always plead temporary insanity later. In fact, Flitwick and Hagrid were staring at him as if he had lost his mind. Dumbledore was smiling at him, though, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Congratulations, Severus," Branwen laughed. For the benefit of the witnesses around them, Snape hastily let her go, as if recoiling in horror as he came to his senses.

"Yes, er, thank you," he mumbled, feigning embarrassment. But a huge grin quickly spread across his face again.

"Congratulations, Severus," Lupin said quietly, smiling at him just a little. But there was an unspoken promise in his eyes of a private celebration later, just the two of them...

"Well, I must admit, you concede defeat gracefully for a Gryffindor, Lupin," Snape said in his best snotty voice, and Lupin just smiled pleasantly, as he always did when Snape publicly insulted him. Then Snape turned to McGonagall and said, "You owe me ten Galleons, Minerva." He was unable--not that he tried very hard, mind you--to keep from gloating.

McGonagall looked as sour as if she had just bitten into a lemon. "I'll give you your ten Galleons if and when that move is ruled a legal play," she said. "Because it looked to me like a foul."

"There was no foul!" Snape scoffed. "You Gryffindors are just sore losers!"

"It was a snitchnip!" McGonagall insisted. "And look who's talking about sore losers! It wasn't my Beater who threw a Bludger into the other team's Seeker after the game was already over last year!"

"A snitchnip is when a PLAYER other than the Seeker touches the Snitch!" Snape retorted. "Dylan didn't touch the Snitch!"

"He touched it with the Quaffle!"

"The rule book doesn't say anything about the Quaffle touching the Snitch being a foul!"

"We'll see about that!"

"And by the way, it wasn't my Beaters who beat the other team's Seeker to a pulp last year!"

"It was only a few bruises! And besides--"

Lupin was laughing out loud, and Branwen said sternly, "Stop it, both of you! You're worse than the children!" The two Heads of House fell silent, McGonagall looking sheepish and Snape looking sullen.

"Why don't we go and check with the referee?" Lupin suggested cheerfully.

So the teachers trooped down to the field to talk to Madam Hooch. She looked up as they approached and said, "Well, the rule book says that no player other than the Seeker may touch the Snitch, but it says nothing about hitting the Snitch with another object. It may very well be that the rules will be changed in the future to clarify this point, but in this case, I must rule that the play was legal and award the victory to Slytherin!"

The Slytherins cheered again, this time lifting all the team members--it took several students each to lift Crabbe's and Goyle's bulky forms, but they did it--and marched up and down the field. The Slytherin girls waved their roses in the air; from the stands, the girls in the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw sections waved back. The Gryffindor girls were too stunned to react, and not quite sure whether to be happy or upset. They liked Dylan, but they had not really expected Slytherin to win.

When the Slytherin spectators finally finished their victory march and set the team back on the ground, they were all greeted by the very rare (in fact, never before seen) spectacle of Snape grinning from ear to ear at them. "Good work!" he said. "Brilliant play, both of you!" He clapped one hand on Dylan's and one hand on Draco's shoulders. "Keep it up, and the Cup is ours for sure this year!"

"Yes, sir!" the boys chorused, beaming up at their teacher happily.

"Draco!" Narcissa Malfoy shouted, waving at her son.

"Mum!" Draco ran over to greet her. "Did you see me catch the Snitch?"

"Yes, I did, my sweet! You were wonderful!" She hugged him tightly and covered his face with kisses.

"Aw, Mum, don't embarrass me in front of everyone!" Draco protested, squirming in her grasp, but he sounded pleased. "I'm so happy--I just wish Dad had been here to see it." His expression fell a little; his moment of triumph, and his father was not here to witness it.

"He will," Narcissa said, looking very pleased with herself as she held up a golden sphere set with a band of small gemstones around the middle; it just barely fit in the palm of her hand. "It's the latest thing; it can record events and play them back later. See?" She touched one of the stones, and suddenly an image of Draco racing towards the Snitch appeared in the air in front of them. "So your father will be able to see it...when his name is cleared and he is able to return home," she added hastily, remembering that they were in public.

"Thank you, Mum!" Draco hugged his mother and kissed her, no longer worried about what his classmates thought.

Meanwhile, Sirius was consoling Harry, and the Weasleys were trying to comfort Ron and Ginny.

"I'm sorry you had to come see me lose, Sirius," Harry said glumly.

"Hey, don't talk like that! It was a good game, Harry, you did your best. No one could have predicted that kid throwing the Quaffle at the Snitch."

"It should've been ruled a foul!" Fred said angrily.

"Now, now," Molly chided gently. "Madam Hooch said it was legal. You kids played your best; that's what counts. Nobody can win all the time."

"Yeah, but to lose to Slytherin!" Ron said, looking even more depressed than Harry. "Malfoy's never gonna let us hear the end of this!"

Back near the Slytherin section of the stands, Dylan was joyfully greeting his family; he had no qualms about letting his mother hug and kiss him.

"You were wonderful, Dylan!" Ariane said, with tears in her eyes. "Your father would be so proud!"

"Thank you, Mother," Dylan said, getting a little teary himself. He kissed her on the cheek. "That makes me happy. Dad played Quidditch too, didn't he?"

"Yes, he was a Chaser, just like you!" Ariane hugged and kissed him again. "You look so much like Evan in that uniform!"

"Come now, dear," Math joked gently. "Let the rest of us have a turn, too."

Ariane laughed, brushing tears from her eyes, and released Dylan. Math hugged Dylan, saying, "You did very well indeed today, child. That was quick thinking. Congratulations."

Then Goewin stepped up to hug and kiss him. "Congratulations, dear."

"Are you okay, Aunt Goewin?" Dylan asked anxiously. "You look a little pale."

"I'm fine, dear," she replied. "I'm just a little tired--oh!" She staggered, clutching at Dylan's shoulder to keep her balance.

"Aunt Goewin!" Dylan cried, putting his arms around her to keep her from falling.

"I'm a little dizzy," she said faintly.

"The hospital wing," Math said firmly. "Now!"

Professor Snape hurried over. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know; she almost fainted," Math replied. "Help me take her to the hospital wing, please."

"Of course," Snape said. "Should I conjure a stretcher?"

"No!" Goewin snapped. "Don't make a scene! I'm just feeling faint because I skipped breakfast, most likely."

Supporting Goewin between them, Snape and Math took Goewin to the castle while Ariane and Dylan followed anxiously. Branwen and Lupin quietly slipped away from the crowd and headed to the castle in a different direction. Sirius frowned as he watched them.

"Listen, Harry," he said, "I'd better make sure Goewin's all right. I'll meet up with you later, okay? The Headmaster said it was all right for me to take you out to dinner tonight."

"Okay, Sirius," Harry replied. He felt a little abandoned when Sirius said he was going to leave to check on Dylan's great-aunt, even though he knew that she was a member of the Order, but he felt better knowing that he was going to be able to have dinner with Sirius later tonight.
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"Is she all right?" Math asked, for about the tenth time, as Madam Pomfrey completed her examination.

"She's fine," Pomfrey said, with a rather odd and knowing little smile. "But make sure she gets something to eat."

"I told you it was just the flu," Goewin said. "My, all this fuss over nothing!"

"Oh, you don't have the flu, dear," Pomfrey said, looking very amused. "Severus, perhaps you could make an anti-nausea tonic for Goewin? I don't normally keep such things on hand, since the students are not likely to be suffering from morning sickness."

"MORNING SICKNESS?!" chorused the assembled crowd of wizards.

Pomfrey grinned. "Yes, morning sickness. Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Donner. You're going to have a baby."

"B-but," Goewin stammered, "I thought...we couldn't...we've been married for twenty years, and there have been no children..."

"Sometimes these things take time," Pomfrey said, still grinning.

Math stood there looking stunned for a moment, then a rather dazed grin spread across his face. "Oh my! I'm going to be a father...and at my age!" He hugged his wife, who was laughing and crying at the same time.

"I'm going to be an uncle?" exclaimed Dylan excitedly. "Or a cousin? Or...something!"

"Congratulations, Goewin," Ariane said with a smile, but her eyes looked a little worried.

Goewin noticed. She patted her niece on the hand, and said, "Don't worry, Ariane. Dylan will still be my co-heir, along with my son or daughter."

"A daughter!" Sirius exclaimed, turning to Pomfrey. "Can you tell if it will be a boy or a girl?"

"Well, there is a spell I can cast to determine the sex of the baby," Pomfrey said, sounding a little confused by the intensity of Sirius's question. "If the parents wish."

"I'd kind of like to be surprised," Goewin smiled.

"Please, Goewin!" Sirius said. "It's important."

"Very well," she acquiesced, looking bewildered.

Madam Pomfrey took out her wand, recited a brief incantation, and smiled. "You'll have a little girl in about eight months, dear."

Sirius pulled a small brocade bag from his pocket and handed it to Goewin. "I think this is for you," he said solemnly.

"What is it?" Goewin asked in a puzzled voice.

"A good-luck charm for safe childbearing," Sirius said, "given to me by Miyako Kamiyama. Professor Kamiyama's granddaughter. The one who is a seer."

"The child she prophesied about!" Snape exclaimed. "You think it's Goewin's!"

"A child who can turn the tide of the war," Lupin said slowly. "A girl child."

"But...how can you be sure it's mine?" Goewin asked.

Math's face grew very serious. "You said you've been having bad dreams lately."

"Well, yes, but what does that have to do with--?"

"Dreams about the Death Eaters? About Voldemort?"

"Yes," Goewin whispered. "Dreams of blood and battles. I see Dylan and the other children fighting alongside the Order and the Death Eaters...but I thought they were only nightmares."

"Prophetic dreams," Snape said quietly.

"No! They can't be! An Oracle loses her power when she loses her virginity!"

"They are not your visions, Goewin," Branwen said quietly. "They are your daughter's. This is why the child is so important. She has your gift, dear; she has the Sight."

Goewin's face turned white. "Then my baby--our baby--is in danger!" She reached out and clasped Math's hand tightly.

"Not just from the Dark Lord, although he is the most serious risk," Snape said grimly. "But if Gwydion learns you will have a daughter who might challenge his right to inherit the Donner title..." And Gwydion was now a Death Eater; what little morality he'd had to begin with was being steadily chipped away by the Dark Lord. Snape did not think he would hesitate to kill Goewin or her child if he believed they would challenge him for the succession.

"No one must know that Goewin is pregnant," Branwen declared. "Poppy, we must swear you to secrecy."

"I swear it, on my life," Madam Pomfrey said gravely.

Thinking fast, Snape said, "Goewin had the flu, as she said. Hunger and illness, the excitement and the press of the crowd, all combined to cause her to faint on the Pitch today. But it's nothing serious. You gave her a tonic, told her to get some rest, and sent her on her way. That is the story we will put out." Pomfrey nodded. "Goewin must stay on the estate from now on," Snape continued. "I don't think she should leave, not even to attend meetings."

"I will guard her closely," Math said, looking fierce and protective. Goewin looked unhappy, but did not object.

"We can communicate through the mirrors, or one of us can Apparate to the estate if we need to convey a message in person. Branwen or Lupin, I think; I shouldn't risk being seen on the estate unless Dylan is there. I'd have no good excuse to be there otherwise. Or..." He hesitated, looking at Ariane.

"I can be your representative to the Order, Uncle," she said quietly. "If you will trust me. I have only hatred for the Dark Lord, now that he has risked my son's life to steal the treasure of the Rosier house and awaken the blood-drinking roses."

Math said, "I trust you, Ariane, but I will have to clear it with Albus first." Ariane nodded. "We'll go back home as soon as I talk to him; he needs to know about all this."

"I'll send a message to the Headmaster," Snape said, "and I'll brew the tonic for you. It should be done by the time you're ready to leave. Meanwhile, the rest of you--don't leave her side for a moment."

Math, Branwen, Lupin, Sirius, Pomfrey, Ariane, and Dylan all nodded, looking grim and determined. "My wand!" Dylan exclaimed, looking chagrined. "I don't have it! We're not allowed to carry one during a game!"

Snape smiled a little. "I think six experienced wizards should be enough to protect your aunt for now, Dylan. Why don't you come and help me with the tonic? You can pick up your wand on the way."

"Go ahead, dear, I'll be fine," Goewin assured him.

Dylan kissed her on the cheek and said fiercely, "I won't let anyone hurt you or your baby, I promise!" His family and Snape looked as though they weren't sure whether to be amused or worried by his declaration. Snape and Ariane exchanged a look; worried, definitely. He already bore the Dark Mark on his arm in an effort to protect his mother.

"Come along, Dylan," Snape said gruffly, and the boy obediently followed him out of the room.

"It will be all right, Ariane," Lupin said gently. "Severus will watch over him." {We both will,} he silently promised.

Ariane seemed to understand his unspoken message. She raised her eyebrows slightly, then smiled. So...it seemed that Lupin did return Snape's affections after all. "Thank you, Remus."

Branwen saw that brief exchange and smiled indulgently; Ariane and Lupin both blushed a little. They had both found their lovers while working on her class project, after all.

"I'm sorry, Professor Blackmore," Ariane said in a small voice, sounding like a chastened student. "We should have listened to you, Evan and I. I...I'm sorry." An apology seemed inadequate, since the Lord she and Evan had served had nearly killed Blackmore all those years ago, but her old Professor just smiled affectionately at her.

"I forgive you, Ariane," Branwen said softly. "As I forgave Evan. You made mistakes, but you are working to atone for those now. We have all of us done things we regret in the past." Lupin and Sirius flushed; Pomfrey and Math looked thoughtful. Branwen wasn't sure what Poppy's regrets might be, but anyone who had lived through the first war was bound to have some. "And you have raised a brave, intelligent, and loving son."

Ariane began to weep quietly, and Branwen gently put her arms around her, comforting her like a mother; Ariane had not felt a mother's embrace since the day she had graduated from Hogwarts and openly taken Evan as her lover. Her mother had disowned her that very day. "I loved him, too, child," Branwen said softly. The other wizards politely averted their eyes. Ariane knew that Professor Blackmore assumed she was weeping for Evan, and she was, but she was also weeping for the loss of her mother and brothers, which somehow seemed even more irrevocable than Evan's.
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