They had never thought that Malfoy might have been behind it, not even when Umbridge announced at dinner, "Thanks to my Inquisitorial Squad, I have been apprised that a student at Hogwarts is in possession of a deadly poison."

Iinstead, they, along with all the other students, had been shocked. The Great Hall was abuzz with whispers. Ron looked at Harry. "A poison! Who'd you reckon it is?"

"Probably Malfoy," Harry began, but Hermione shushed them as Umbridge went on.

"For an adult wizard, the consequences of this would be a trial and a sentence in Azkaban, but," she practically purred, unfurling a scroll where the inscription "Permission for Whipping" could just be made out, "an underage wizard or witch will be placed at the disposal of the Hogwarts High Inquisitor. I have decided to give the culprit a choice between expulsion or a flogging. "

A murmur rippled through the Great Hall. A lot of people hadn't been too clear on what had finally driven Fred and George to fly off into the sunset. Corporal punishment was unknown to most of the students; they had never dreamed it even existed in the rule-books at all. But, as Hermione grimly quoted out of Corporal Punishment in the Wizarding World in Modern Times, the punishment was still enforceable in Wizarding schools, at least in theory, at the discretion of the Headmaster. Or Headmistress.

"Given a choice?" Harry fumed as they rose from dinner. "It's got to be Malfoy, that's why she's giving them the choice. He should just join the Junior Death Eaters or something and save us all a lot of trouble. His dad's already working for Voldemort, and…" Ron flinched and Hermione grimaced; Harry ignored them, garnering some pitying looks from non-DA members. However, his speculations were cut off as he had to go to his Occlumency lesson with Snape. They agreed to meet at Hagrid's hut later to ask him if he'd seen anything about the mysterious poison.

Hermione and Ron had just taken leave of Harry and were on their way up to their Tower when they rounded a corner to find Malfoy's Inquisitorial Squad posse blocking the corridor. The two Gryffindors exchanged glances as Malfoy said, "Got you, Weasley."

"What are you talking about? Get your trained monkeys out of the way," Ron sneered. Crabbe and Goyle, whose bulk was doing most of the blocking, gave no indication of having heard the insult. Malfoy's expression never wavered from the unnerving smile he'd worn that morning.

"Oh, I don't think so, Weasel."

Ron drew his wand. "Sod off, Malfoy."

"Ron, don't," Hermione entreated, trying to calm him down.

"I've got your Weasel now, Mudblood." The Inquisitorial Squad smirked at their leader's taunt. Pansy giggled. Hermione looked as if she wanted to ask what he meant, but resolutely kept silent.

The words had barely left Malfoy's mouth when Umbridge, closely followed by Argus Filch, stepped out from behind him. "Expelliarmus!" she commanded and Ron's wand flew into her hand. "Go ahead, Mr. Malfoy."

"Ronald Bilius Weasley," Malfoy smirked, "funny name, that – parents couldn't afford a better one, could they – strangely appropriate, though…" At Umbridge's 'hem, hem' he seemed to catch himself and went on, "you're under arrest for possession of a deadly poison…"

But the rest of his words were drowned out by Ron and Hermione's shouts.

"What?"

"You're mad! Ron would never…"

"Poison? I'd just like to see you prove it, you dirty lying…"

Malfoy smirked. "Permission to prove it, Headmistress?"

"Permission granted, Mr. Malfoy," Umbridge said sweetly.

"Accio Weasley's contraband!" Malfoy said sharply, flinging out a hand. Hermione looked smugly at Malfoy, then turned pale as, a moment later, a small vial flew out of Ron's pocket and into his outstretched palm.

"That's no poison, you slimy git! Give it here!" Ron yelled. He surged forward, but Crabbe and Goyle restrained him. Hermione looked at him, agonized, as Malfoy passed the vial to the Headmistress, who looked it over severely.

"Patented Prufrock Potion," she read. "Product of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Notorious troublemakers, branched out into poison-making, have they? Well, I think we have the proof we need…"

"My brothers aren't poisoners, you lying cow!" Ron yelled. "It's just supposed to make you spout doggerel all over the place! I thought it'd be good for a laugh later… rent a Pensieve and…"

"So you find poisoning people a laughing matter, Mr Weasley?" Umbridge said sweetly.

"I was just going to test it for them!" he shouted. Hermione moaned and looked down at the floor. How many times had she told them not to test their potions at Hogwarts? "D'you seriously think my own brothers would poison me?" Ron yelled, struggling against the Inquisitors' grip.

"Your excuses will get you nowhere," Umbridge said. "The question now is, will you choose expulsion, or a flogging?"

"I'm not bloody well choosing anything!" Ron stormed. "Get that potion analysed. It's not a poison! Your dirty trick won't work! Malfoy can just get stuffed…"

"Whoops-a-daisy," Umbridge giggled girlishly as the glass vial slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor. The obviously volatile potion evaporated in an iridescent mauve haze as they watched, blowing away on the slight breeze from the window. "What a pity, I seem to have broken the evidence. Hem, hem. But," she turned to the Inquisitorial Squad, "you can vouch for the fact that Weasley was found to be in possession of a flask of poison, can't you?"

"Of course, Professor," Malfoy smiled smugly, and the members of the Inquisitorial Squad who actually had higher thought processes nodded. Crabbe and Goyle just looked at one another. "Nod your heads, you fools!" Malfoy hissed, and they nodded slowly as well.

Hermione gasped. "You can't do this!"

"You forget yourself, Miss Know-It-All," Umbridge said coldly. She turned to Ron. "So, what will it be, Mr. Weasley?"

"I won't! Your lies won't stand up! You can't prove it was poison!"

"Hmm," Umbridge mused thoughtfully, as though to herself, but her voice was pitched to carry. There was an edge to it that made the hair on the back of Hermione's neck prickle. "Perhaps you are right. You are underage; the true perpetrators of this crime, whose names you have confessed, are not. I have witnesses, you know. If you deny any knowledge of this poison, I can always contact the Ministry…"

"No…" Hermione froze as she realized what Umbridge meant, although Ron obviously didn't yet.

"…and have those troublemaking twins arrested. We can arrange for them to stay in Azkaban for a month or two until we get the trial underway, and then…"

"NO!" Ron roared so loudly that Crabbe and Goyle flinched, and almost let go of him. "Leave Fred and George out of it! They haven't done anything! You can't have them sent to Azkaban!"

"Can't I just." The Ministry representative, High Inquisitor of Hogwarts, fixed Ron with a steely glare.

"You leave my brothers alone," Ron said dangerously. "They've left school, they've given up their NEWTs, what more do you want? Just leave-them-alone."

Malfoy sniggered.

"I don't take orders from students, Mr Weasley, as well you know," Umbridge said smoothly. "However, if this poison was manufactured and possessed by you alone, then obviously there can be no reason to bring anyone else into it."

"Oh, she's good. Don't you think so, Mudblood?" Malfoy whispered. Hermione shot him a look that made him gulp and shut up.

But Ron hesitated, unwilling to actually say the damning lie, until Umbridge spoke again. "On second thought, maybe it would be better if you didn't confess. Those troublemaking twins would be well served by a few months in Azkaban. It would wipe the smile right off their arrogant faces…"

"No!" Ron's face filled with a raw fear Hermione had only seen once before, when Harry was in the air fighting the Hungarian Horntail.

"Those two certainly deserve to rot in prison for a bit, don't they, Weasel?" Malfoy taunted. "Who knows, a Dementor might Kiss them and then your family would have two fewer mouths to feed, wouldn't they?"

Ron slumped, resigned bitterness in his eyes, and Hermione knew it was over. "All right, all right!" Ron gritted his teeth. "Fred and George had nothing to do with this. I did it."

Umbridge beamed. "If you could be a little more precise, Mr Weasley."

"I – I made the p—poison," Ron grated out. "I made it and kept it."

"For what purpose?" the Headmistress asked silkily.

For a moment Ron just looked at her in disbelief, then a sardonic smile crept across his features. "Um, I – just thought it might come in handy for a spot of cold-blooded murder," he said airily, warming to his false confession. "Be prepared and all that, you know—"

"That is quite enough," Umbridge snapped. "Now we come to your choice. Will you take expulsion, or a flogging with the cat?"

Ron looked blank, and Hermione knew that he had never heard the term before. In fact, a few of the Slytherins were wearing blank looks as well. She could almost see him picturing Crookshanks and Mrs Norris. She opened her mouth, haltingly, to explain, but Umbridge motioned to Filch, who pulled out of his robes a heavy leather whip, as thick as a man's finger, straight out of a pirate film.

Hermione whimpered. Ron blanched. Some of the Slytherins paled a bit, but Malfoy just smirked. "Told you there was more than one way to skin a cat, didn't I, Weasley?" he gloated. "Pity you weren't paying attention…"

"Shut up!" Hermione hissed, beside herself.

"So, now you know what the cat is – truly, you young students pay no attention at all in Muggle Studies – tell us your choice. Expulsion, or a flogging?"

Hermione's heart pounded as Ron, chalk-white, stared rigidly ahead. She pictured Mrs. Weasley hearing the news of Ron's expulsion from Hogwarts, and shuddered. What happened to witchards who never finished Hogwarts, anyway? Conductors on the Night Bus like Stan Shunpike? Something 'working-class', in Muggle terms? Hermione was stunned to find, as she delved into her memory for an answer, that nothing she had read about the Wizarding World had prepared her to answer that question.

Through the thundering of her heart, she could barely make out Ron's voice as he said, "I'll take the flogging," and suddenly, she knew that there had really only ever been one answer.

She stood there like a statue, tears pouring down her cheeks. By the time she managed to pull herself together, Umbridge had already dismissed the grumbling Inquisitorial Squad and handed him over to Filch's strong grip. Hermione could see the High Inquisitor's eyes glittering. By the looks of it, she could hardly wait to use the lash. She had to do something! "Please, Professor Umbridge," she tried, "Ron wouldn't hurt a fly! Can't you – give him detention, or – or…" she had been going to say "give him lines," but stumbled over her words, not wanting to give away her knowledge of what happened to Harry in his detentions. "Oh, please, Professor," she sobbed, not caring how she sounded, "you can't whip him! Corporal punishment's been unknown in Hogwarts for a century…"

"Quiet," Umbridge said. "I'm being very lenient, girl. You should be glad this is only coming to a flogging. The charge is, after all, murder."

"Murder!" Hermione's voice rose in pitch. "Ron would never kill anyone! Professor Umbridge, you can't possibly think that! If Professor Dumbledore was here, he'd tell you so, you can Floo him and ask if you—"

But Umbridge's satisfied voice sliced through her tirade. "You of all people, Miss Know-It-All, should be aware that as Headmistress, I have the power to alert the proper authorities and have him sent to Azkaban. You should be grateful." She whipped out her wand so fast it was a blur. "Imperio!"

"Hermione!"

Hermione was taken completely by surprise. She remembered very little after that – Umbridge seemed to have forced her to thank her for Ron's punishment. By the time she snapped out of it, memory coming back in bits and pieces, she found herself standing before the locked dungeon door, and Ron was gone.