General Disclaimer of Everything: I own nothing.


"Please turn to page 394." Professor McGonagall's request was met with groans.

"Not Brussels sprouts," Ron moaned, banging his forehead on the desk. "Why would anyone ever want to transfigure something as nasty as that?"

"Well, I suppose it's better than eating rats," Harry replied knowingly, running one hand through his unruly black hair.

Ron shot a glare at Hermione. "Yeah," He agreed darkly, "Can't imagine why anyone would want to do that."

"Oh, for goodness sake," Hermione said huffily, "He's a cat, Ron. Cats eat rats. If you can't keep track of your own pets…" Harry sighed. He hadn't meant to start this again.

"When you use wand movement 42, that we learned last week, and say 'Esacaulis,' your rat should turn into Brussels sprouts, like so." McGonagall demonstrated. With a flourish of her wand, the rat on her desk turned green and leafy. "Now you will try."

The class chanted a ragged chorus of "Esacaulis," with varying results. Hermione's rat immediately became a head of lettuce. Not exactly Brussels sprouts, but close. The eyes of Seamus's rat glazed over as smoke started to pour from its fuzzy ears. Ron's turned a violent shade of yellow. Harry's rat tried to escape from his desk. Three times.

"No you don't!" Harry growled, pulling the rat back yet again. What was up with that? Most rats would just cower on the desk where they sat, but it seemed that his had more courage than most. Harry was seriously considering making it the official Gryffindor mascot. The rat lunged and Harry pulled his fingers out of the way just in time. Snick. Rat teeth closed on empty air. Harry recanted. Only a Slytherin would try something as underhanded as biting.

It wasn't as though Harry didn't sympathize with the rat, because he did. He really did. There couldn't me a more unpleasant fate than becoming someone's dinner, but that hadn't stopped him in the past and it wouldn't stop him now. Harry watched McGonagall pass down the row. Especially now.

So when the rat jumped off of the desk, Harry lunged after it. He managed to catch it by the tail before plowing headfirst into Neville and interrupting the other boy's spell. Neville's wand went flying and his charm went wide. The orange beam narrowly missed Lavender Brown's left ear before it shot out the open window. Immediately, Harry was caught in McGonagall's hawk like glare.

"I… Sorry, Neville," Harry climbed off the sprawling boy and helped him to his feet.

"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall called in an iron tone. She stormed over.

"Oh, dear," Harry gulped. Neville and Ron shot him sympathetic looks before edging away from him.


Draco closed his eyes and counted to ten. He felt the sunshine and smelt the grass. Once he had regained control over his emotions, he spoke.

"Greengrass, you've got to give up these half-baked ideas. Stay away from the Hufflepuffs."

"But I like Susan." Daphne protested, "She's nice."

"She's nice." Draco buried his head in his hands. "Of course she's nice. She's a Hufflepuff. It's their mission in life to be nice. That doesn't mean that you can be friends with her. A Badger and a Snake? It just isn't done. She'll just hold you back."

"I don't care." Daphne replied stubbornly.

"You're going to turn into a bad apple, Greengrass." Draco drawled. There was a flash of light. Draco dove to the ground and pulled out his wand simultaneously. When nothing further happened, Draco cautiously climbed to his feet, ignoring the grass stains on his robes.

"Greengrass?" He inquired. "What just happened, Greengrass? Daphne?" But the girl was gone, and by the window, in the exact spot where she had been standing, sat a little green apple. Draco panicked. He scooped up the apple and, glancing over his shoulder, he fled the courtyard.

"My Father must never hear about this." Was Draco's first thought. As a child, accidental magic is applauded as a sign of a wizard's strength and a confirmation of their status. But at the age of 13 it was considered a weakness and a lack of self-control.

Draco had been upset, but he hadn't thought he was that upset, and now Daphne was an apple. Greengrass was a most noble and ancient house. If Lord Greengrass were to find out about this, it could cause and "incident". Draco shuddered at the thought. He couldn't get help from his father, and he couldn't get help from a teacher. He was on his own in fixing this mess.

Draco was trying to avoid everyone, and in standing with the tradition of Hogwarts students trying to avoid everyone; he soon found himself in a certain deserted corridor on the seventh floor. There was a particularly ugly tapestry of Trolls wearing tutus. He started to pace. What Draco needed was a way to turn Greengrass back into a person. Something reliable. He didn't want any old person after all. It needed to be Daphne Greengrass, with all her quirks and habits. It also needed to be discreet. He didn't want the whole school knowing about this. As Draco passed the tapestry for the third time, a door appeared in the opposite wall. Curious, he pulled it open and stepped inside. It was a study. A green armchair sat next to the hearth and the table was piled with books. He picked up the first one and read the title. "Human Transfiguration and the Mind." This, he thought gleefully, would be everything that he needed to fix the situation.

But an hour later, Draco set the book down and pinched the bridge of his nose. He fought back the coming headache. The spells that he needed were complicated. A seventh year might have difficulties, let alone a third year. He was ready to admit that he needed help.

"I know," he said to himself. "I'll kidnap Granger, and to keep Potter and the Weasel from interfering I'll turn them into fleas. Small, harmless little fleas, and then I'll put those fleas in a box, and then I'll put that box inside of another box, and then I'll owl that box to myself, and when it arrives…"

Draco let out a wild and malicious laugh.

"I'll smash it with a hammer! It's brilliant, brilliant, brilliant, I tell you! Genius, I say!"

He was very taken with the plan and it required a moment before he spotted the flaw in it. If Gryffindor's Golden Trio went missing, the whole school would be placed on alert. He needed this to remain low key.


Severus Snape swept into his dungeon classroom and took a silent roll call. Zabani and Nott paired as usual. Crab and Goyle. Parkenson by herself. Potter with Longbottom; infrequent, but not unheard of. Ah, Weasley and Granger were fighting again. Weasley with Finnigin and Granger with Patail. A few docked points might encourage them to focus on their potions. Snape did not want to deal with another explosion today.

But Greengrass was missing. Snape felt a twinge of unease. The third year Slytherin had openly professed that Potions was her favorite class and Snape her favorite teacher. He was fond of the girl himself. She was an unusually level headed child. It would take a dire emergency for her to skip this class.

Or hormones. Snape noted with annoyance that Malfoy was missing as well.