This chapter is a little short, but I decided to split up the intended ending for next chapter to space things out. The last part was written a few weeks after the other bits, so it's a little choppy. But anyway, enjoy!


For once, the entire room was fixated on the day's History of Magic lesson. Lovino had propped himself up on the front desk, a tomato in one hand and a sheet of paper in the other as Feliciano dropped two steel pots onto the table. From the pockets of his robe, the younger Italian boy pulled out pasta ingredients—garlic, tomatoes, eggplant, among other things—and a few packages of spaghetti.

"What are they doing?" Parvati whispered as she watched Feliciano pull out a cutting boarding and a knife—God knows where he kept it all. "Are they cooking?"

"Men that can cook… They're cute," Lavender said, trying to hide the giant grin on her face. Lovino shot her a sly grin, making her cheeks turn red.

"Ve, can someone light a fire? I need to get the water boiling!" Feliciano said as he sliced the eggplant. Hands shot up—mostly from the girls in the room. "Ve… How about you?" he asked, looking to Hermione. "You're supposed to be like really smart, right?"

"Hem, hem!"

Everyone turned to the back of the class to see Umbridge watching the going-ons with a frown. In all honesty, they had almost forgotten she was there.

"May I ask what it is you are doing?" Umbridge asked in her sugar-sweet voice.

"Ve~, well because this is a class for Italian history, I thought sampling some pasta would be nice," Feliciano said with oblivious cheerfulness.

Umbridge's frown deepened, and she scribbled something down on her clipboard. "And how exactly is that supposed to help teach magical history to Hogwarts students?"

"Eh… Well, pasta is a food for everyone, even witches and wizards!" Feliciano said after a moment. "Plus we missed breakfast and I was getting kind of hungry!"

Umbridge pursed her lips and added another note.

Lovino tossed his tomato into the air before catching it behind his back. "So anyway, I'm Lovino and this idiota here is my brother, Feli, and in case for some reason you didn't know this already, we're the representatives of Italy. So, what do you all know about Italy?"

"Something about Sardinia during the International Warlock Convention of 1289?" Dean said.

"The warlock Zaccaria Innocenti danced around in the crater of Mount Vesuvius after casting a Dancing Feet Jinx on himself in 79," Parvati said. "And then the volcano erupted later that year…"

Lovino sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead. "And there went Pompeii and Herculaneum… That bastard…!"

"Hey, Grandpa told me about that guy!" Feliciano said with a smile. "Apparently he was kind of an asshole."

"Hem, hem! Language, please."

"Hmph, well, that's not important!" Lovino said. "Obviously you haven't been taught much about our country. Don't you all realize that Italian witches and wizards masters of… romanza?"

Lavender stifled a mad giggle. It seemed like the girls in the class (barring Elizaveta) was hanging onto Lovino's every word. The boys seemed less than amused.

"This is like Lockhart all over again," Ron mumbled to Harry.

"Italian witches and wizards had a knack for making love potions," Feliciano explained as he mixed together a tomato sauce. "They were called to help people going through some rocky relationships. We Italians were great matchmakers, huh?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air. "But weren't the first love potions created in France?"

Lovino suppressed a shiver. "France may have created the first love potion, but the Italians did a bit of… editing to the recipes and produced more potions than those French bastards."

"Hem, hem!" Umbridge warned, and she scribbled something along the lines of "vulgar language" onto her paper. Lovino shot her a glare and grumbled a few swears under his breath while her head was down.

"Ve, France had a little help from us to create the strongest love potion in the world!" Feliciano said, unaware of his brother's bad mood.

"The first tries weren't so… successful, though," Lovino said with a grimace. "Long story short, let's just say the earthquake in 1349 that caused the south side of the Colosseum to collapse wasn't an accident…"

"Ah, I remember that! I was sore for a week!" Feliciano said. Several students—including Harry, Hermione, and Ron—exchanged bewildered glances.

"See, there was a lot of magical activity in Italy back then," Lovino said with a wave of his hand. "La Signora del Gioco, the Lady of the Game was one of the famous witches back in the 1300's. She was a big-shot teacher for the witches and wizards before Nocebastone Academy was built. A little weird though—she had a hobby of scaring Muggles by casting sleeping spells on animals used for food and waking them up at the table. Great girl for parties."

"Fratello, wasn't she the one who cursed that plate of pasta when that guy spilled wine on her dress back in 1362?"

"Yes, Feli. It flew after him down the street and tried to eat his leg."

"Haha, I remember that now! That was a fun night! Though, the villagers weren't really happy…"

What on earth was Feliciano talking about? He made it sound like he'd actually been there or something. Well, at least it was entertaining—something that couldn't be said about the usual History of Magic lessons…

Umbridge coughed. "May I ask where you learned this information?" she said in her sickly sweet voice. "It seems as if you may be going off on a tangent unrelated to the subject being taught."

"Why don't you let us decide what's relevant and what's not, stronzo?" Lovino snapped, scowling. It was tempting to throw something at the old hag for her little interruptions, but the only thing he had was a tomato, and he wasn't going to waste it on a person like her.

Umbridge looked surprised by the sharp response, and she etched another short note down.

Lovino glanced down at the paper in his hand, and with a less than amused voice, he said, "You all are supposed to write this next part down. So, Nocebastone Academy is our magic school—like the Italian equivalent of Hogwarts—and it's located on the island of Sardinia. It gets its name from the giant Walnut Tree of Benevento. Witches and wizards would gather at the tree and hold ceremonies and festivals, and the branches were used to make wands. The tree was uprooted in 663, but most of the branches were made into wands and kept in storage. Our wands," he reached into his cloak and pulled out his wand, "are made from the same tree. 9 inches, hair from a river nymph… Particularly good for charming."

There were a few giggles. Elizaveta rolled her eyes, as did a number of the boys in the room. Umbridge scribbled something down on her board, muttering what sounded like "flirting with students…"

"Don't forget mine!" Feliciano said pleasantly. "12 inches, hair from a spring nymph." He waved his wand, stirring the tomato sauce with a bit of magic. "Ah, I think the pasta's ready! Now to get the plates!"

"I wouldn't do that if I were—" Feliciano ignored the warning and waved his wand again, casting a conjuration spell. There were several pops, and eighteen ceramic plates appeared out of thin air around the classroom.

"YOU IDIOT!" Lovino exclaimed, diving to catch the plates before they could hit the floor. Harry lunged forward, barely grasping a falling plate with the tips of his fingers. Ron jammed his foot out into the open and caught one with the side of his shoe. One dish smacked into Seamus' head, and Parvati fumbled to grab it before it fell. Another fell onto Umbridge's clipboard, smearing the quill ink and knocking it out of her hands. She looked up, eyes flashing dangerously.

"See Lovino, it turned out alright!"

Lovino glared at his brother, lying on the ground with six plates in his arms. "Chigi…! Don't do that again!"

"Ve… But we still need the forks."

"We don't want any of those falling on their heads!" Lovino got to his feet and flicked his wand. It took a couple tries, but he managed to conjure enough forks on the front desk. "Feh, finally!"

"Wait until you guys get a taste of some of this pasta!" Feliciano said as he filled the plates. "It's a lot better than that bland food you have all the time here!"

The Hogwarts students weren't exactly sure if they were supposed to take offense to that remark or not, so they just waited patiently for the two Italians to place the dishes on their desks. Even Umbridge was shoved a plate with a sample of the food, interrupting her mad scribbling.

"Buon appetito!" Feliciano said, and everyone took a tentative first bite. The reaction was just about the same throughout the room.

"He can actually cook good food," Ron said, gaping at his pasta. "He is a genius!"

"Ron, manners," Hermione said with a grimace. "It's falling out of your mouth."

"If I had a boyfriend who could cook like this…" Lavender sighed, looking dreamy as she daintily ate her meal.

"Dude, you should totally make some pizza later!" Alfred said, scarfing down the pasta like it was the end of the world. "Can I have seconds?"

Even Umbridge looked like she was impressed with the dish. After her first bite, she scratched a few words onto her clipboard. Feliciano and Lovino exchanged glances.

"Nee, fratello, do you think she'll give us a good grade now?"

"She'd better. If that bribe wasn't enough, she's a devil in disguise. A devil with no taste in good food."


"That was a great lesson," Ron said as they paused at the door. Umbridge had already left, and most of the other Gryffindors were out of the room. "You sure know how to cook."

Feliciano grinned. "Grazie!"

"I would have liked a little more of a lesson, to be honest," Hermione said. "Of course, those stories about La Signora del Gioco were quite… interesting."

"It's only the first class," Lovino replied with a shrug. "It wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be, considering that old hag was watching us the entire time."

"Ve~ we'll be back to teach again soon!" Feliciano said. "Not sure when, but I'll be sure to bring more pasta!"

"Tell us ahead of time so we can skip breakfast!" Alfred said, patting his stomach.

"Will do!"

The rest of the day went by fairly well. Potions wasn't the most brilliant thing in the world (grades for their potions were handed over—Hermione, Roderich, Elizaveta, and Ivan obtaining the highest marks with Parvati, Ludwig, and Feliks coming in a close second). Divination was with the Hufflepuffs, of whom Feliciano and Lovino were absent to teach the Ravenclaws and Slytherins who had that current History timeslot. Antonio looked bored without Lovino around, but he made the best of a class period under Trelawney and supervised by Umbridge just like everyone else.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was with the Ravenclaws, and it was the class everyone was dreading. Umbridge was already in the room when everyone arrived, and she jumped right into the lesson with "wands away", not that anyone had bothered to pull them out in the first place.

"Please turn to page nineteen and start chapter two, 'Common Defensive Theories and Their Derivation.' There will be no need to talk."

Hermione and Toris both raised their hands before anyone could flip to the right page. Umbridge went towards the Lithuanian boy, bypassing Hermione entirely. "What's troubling you, Mr. Lorinaitis?"

"Professor, I don't have my book. Would it be alright if I share with Feliks?" he asked politely.

Umbridge blinked in surprise, and she quickly showed one of her fake smiles. "What happened to your book?"

"A cat decided to use it as a scratching post and a litter box." Toris gave Heracles a pointed look from across the room. The Greek man looked over lazily and shrugged.

"Ah, alright." Umbridge stepped back. Hermione still had her hand in the air, and Umbridge took the long way around the class before stopping next to her desk. "What is it this time, Miss Granger?"

"I've already read chapter two," Hermione replied. "I've read the entire book, actually."

"So have I," Eduard said with a hand politely raised.

"I as well," Kiku added.

Umbridge looked thoroughly surprised. "Well, then, you should all be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counterjinxes in chapter fifteen."

"He said that counterjinxes aren't really 'counters,'" Eduard said.

"They are more like witches and wizards trying to make excuses for the use of the spells," Kiku continued.

"Yes, he says that they are intended to cause harm, but they're called counterjinxes to make them sound more acceptable," Hermione finished. She paused, biting her lip as if she were debating on something, and then said, "but I disagree."

"Oh? Is that so?" Umbridge asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes," Hermione said with a nod. "Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes at all. But they can be used in defense quite effectively, can't they? That's what I believe."

"Well, I'm afraid it's Slinkhard's opinion that matters in the classroom, not yours Miss Granger." Her voice had risen in pitch and volume, and now everyone was looking up from their textbooks and watching the events unfold.

"But—"

"That's quite enough, Miss Granger," Umbridge said. "Five points from Gryffindor house."

The silence in the room was shattered. Ravenclaws whispered to each other, and Alfred and Yong Soo gave cries out outrage. Harry clenched his hand into a fist and said, "What for?"

"For disrupting my class with pointless interruptions," Umbridge said. "I'm here to teach you using Ministry-approved methods that don't include students speaking their opinions on matters they don't understand. Your previous teachers may have allowed it, but none of them—aside from perhaps Professor Quirrell—would have passed a Ministry inspection—"

"Yeah, Quirrell was a great teacher," Harry sneered with a roll of his eyes, "there was just the minor problem of having Lord Voldemort attached to the back of his head and all, wasn't there?"

Dead silence.

"I think another week's detentions would do you some good, Mr. Potter." Umbridge said coolly, the corner of her mouth twitching into a half-smirk, half-smile.

"I don't see the reason for that, Professor."

Umbridge turned around to the source of the voice. Her eyes landed on the Arthur, who was sitting next to Francis in front of Dean and Seamus. The French man looked heavily surprised, as did the rest of the class. "Oh, is that so Mr. Kirkland?"

"Yes. Harry was only speaking the truth, after all," Arthur said, glancing over to the boy out of the corner of his eye. "It's not entirely secret knowledge that Professor Quirrell had been working with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. And I'd have to disagree on your assessment of the previous teachers, especially Remus Lupin. I've met him personally, and he was an excellent teacher."

Umbridge's fake smile looked strained. "And you believe you know this for certain?"

"Certainly. I'm the representative of Great Britain after all. I need to know about the important individuals in the country; that includes teachers at the world-renown magical school of Hogwarts."

"Then I'm sure you're aware of the fact that he was a potentially dangerous half-breed?"

"Quite aware. That didn't make him any less capable when classes were taught in the mornings and afternoons. And I must express my distaste at your misuse of the word 'half-breed.'"

"Mr. Kirkland," Umbridge said slowly, "you may represent Great Britain during meetings with other nations, but you aren't the voice of our country."

There was an odd sound in the classroom, almost like choking. Alfred had a hand clapped over his mouth to stifle his snickers, and Yong Soo had his head on the table, his shoulders shaking violently. Toris and Feliks exchanged amused glances, and Yao was hiding a grin. Even Francis—hell, even Heracles seemed to find the ordeal to be laughable.

Umbridge looked around at everyone, giving them a look of confusion before turning back to Arthur. "Your position doesn't grant you special treatment from the Ministry, and even though this world collaboration affair is not a program of the Ministry's, I'm sure we have the jurisdiction to send someone else in your place. I think a detention is in order to remind you of this. And this goes for all of the representatives," she said, turning to look at the class. The amused reactions stopped immediately. "You are guests in this country, guests in this school. Do not think that the rules do not apply to you because you are not citizens here, or because you may be older than the average student, as I will not accept any less behavior than I expect of those attending these classes as true students of Hogwarts. I'm sure the Ministry and your own countries would not be pleased with outrageous behavior either. Now, please return to your books and continue reading chapter two."

But none of the representatives moved. They stared at Umbridge with mixed emotions: stifled rage, disgust, hatred, disbelief, shock. She returned to her desk and pretended she didn't see them.


"That woman was threatening us," Elizaveta said as she sat down at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Students were only just starting to gather for dinner. "That bitch was threatening us!"

"Well what do you expect?" Francis asked, swooping over and running hand through his hair. "As far as she's concerned, we are simply uninvited guests who should not have been here in the first place."

"She's sort of right, though," Eduard said, eliciting several "WHAT?"s from the other Gryffindor and Ravenclaw representatives gathered. "It's not like I'm taking that woman's side. I'm only saying that we are guests in this country, and as guests we are expected to follow the rules."

"But we're…" Alfred trailed off. "Fine, I get the point… But the Ministry is totally messed up now—haven't you heard of all those Death Eaters that are supposed to be working undercover there? Arthur, you're frickin' England! You can complain and stuff, can't you?"

"Why do you think I spoke up this afternoon?" Arthur asked with a light scowl. He took a sip of pumpkin juice from one of the goblets. "A direct approach isn't proper in this situation—it only makes the panicked go on the defensive. Times like this make me rethink the amount of interaction we have with the magical communities. Most of the time we let them deal with problems on their own—to the point where even the current Minister of Magic has no idea who I am."

"Can't you just go up and tell the Minister who you are and end all of this?"

"If I had taken action earlier, maybe. But the Ministry is in a state of disarray, on the verge of collapse. Scotland tried to reason with the Minister, and that ended horribly. At this point, anything I say will probably be taken as support for Dumbledore. Just because I'm England doesn't mean the panicked masses will listen to what I say—especially for a society that doesn't even know we exist… They'll think the world's gone completely insane. They may even blame me for this mess."

"Well, we're guests here, but this Voldemort problem is everybody's business," Toris said. "He's currently somewhere in Britain, so it's not our country's job to come rushing in to investigate, but Ministry in-action could be disastrous! And, as a human, I can't stand seeing the way that Umbridge woman is treating the teachers and students like Harry. We can't just sit back at let this happen right in front of our noses, can we?"

"Humans first and nations second in this situation, is it?" Arthur asked in a dry tone. He dropped his voice as other Hogwarts students passed the table. "Just lay low for now, try to avoid causing trouble. I'm sure things will be fixed, one way or another… Ah, quiet, everyone."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ron's younger sister Ginny approached the gathered reps with bags slung over their shoulders and unhappy looks on their faces. "Hey, Arthur," Harry said, sitting next to Elizaveta and looking over to the bushy-browed man. "Thanks for that, earlier. Speaking up in front of Umbridge, I mean."

"Yeah, especially for Lupin," Ron said.

"He was a great teacher," Ginny added. "I may not be in the same class as you all, but I can't stand hearing those rude things about him. It's only bad that you've gotten yourself detention as well."

"It was nothing at all," Arthur replied, getting to his feet to make room for the other Gryffindors. "I'm only sorry we had to formally meet in such a manner, Mr. Potter."

"Err, just call me Harry."

"In class, you said you knew Lupin, didn't you?" Hermione inquired with a curious tilt of her head.

"I've met him before, once or twice," Arthur said with a nod. "A few years back. I know he's a good man. Now, I should be getting back to my table." He walked off, and several of the Ravenclaw reps followed suit. Only Toris and Lilli stayed behind.

"Something really needs to be done about that Umbridge woman," Alfred remarked, scooping a pile of roasted potatoes onto his plate. "I swear, I'm not learning anything in that class! I wish we had a better teacher—I bet even a student could teach better defense than her!"

There were a few murmurs of agreement at the Gryffindor table. No one, however, seemed to notice Hermione as she stared at Alfred, eyes wide as if something he'd said had sparked a brilliant idea.


"And I thought Heracles loved cats," Arthur mumbled under his breath as he looked around at the startlingly pink office. The number of magic cat dishes hanging on the walls was more than a little disturbing. The images of fluffy flat-faced felines prowling around seemed to be watching them.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Umbridge turned around to face them from behind her desk. She gave one of her fake coughs.

"Mr. Potter, I would like you to do your previous lines. You remember them, don't you? 'I must not tell lies.' And Mr. Kirkland, I would like you to write… Hmm, how about 'I must not overstep authority'?"

Harry gave a curt nod, and Arthur looked at the blank paper in front of him with a curious, if somewhat confused expression. "The quills don't use ink," Harry said in a dull voice, and he started to write his lines. What he wouldn't give to be practicing out on the Quidditch pitch or relaxing in the common room… The pain flared on the back of his hand, the scabs and scars opening up again as the words etched on the paper were mirrored on his skin. He caught Arthur watching him with a still face, but there was alarm in his eyes.

Arthur proceeded to work without complaint. His first line was hesitant. He winced as the letters were cut into his skin and watched as the injury healed in mere seconds. But Harry was shocked when, after the first line was written, the next dozen or so came without so much as a flinch.

Harry turned back to his paper, keeping his head down as he worked in silence. The only sound in the room came from the scritch-scritch of quills rubbing against paper, and Umbridge shuffling through tests that awaited grades.

After a previous week of this torture, Harry's hand wasn't healing. Spots of blood dripped from the cuts and flecked against the parchment, but he continued on for what seemed like an eternity until Umbridge coughed and shot the boys a grin. "Well, I think that's enough for tonight. Hands?"

Harry held his out with a grimace, and Umbridge's smile only widened. "Mm, the message is sinking in," she said. Turning to Arthur, her smile slipped. His hand was pale and smooth, and there was no evidence of scars or cuts. It seemed less damaged than even Harry's first night of detention. "I think a few more nights of lines are in order. You're both free to go now."

Harry stood up and gathered his things quickly before walking out the door. He didn't look back until he was halfway down the corridor, and when he did he saw Arthur walking a few steps behind him.

"So that's what that woman calls detention," Arthur remarked.

Harry mumbled something, trying to not sound irate. Most of his attention was on his still-throbbing hand.

Arthur's bushy eyebrows furrowed in sympathy and worry. "Your hand is bleeding."

"I guess a week of those lines really makes the message sink in…"

"It's quite frankly an unjust punishment," Arthur said, crossing his arms. "'I shall not tell lies'… Absurd! I know for a fact that what you and Dumbledore have said is true."

"Thanks… You're one of the only ones who do."

"Oh, I'm not sure about that." Arthur flashed a light smile. "I think there are more people than you know that support and believe you. They just don't want to say it."

Harry frowned. "How can you be so sure?"

"It's… just a feeling a have."

Something about Arthur seemed a little strange. Harry couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly—maybe it was the look in his eyes that seemed too wise for his age, or maybe it was his tone of voice, or maybe it was simply his confidence—but it struck him as… odd.


Feliks kicked his legs in the air, flipping through one of the many wizard fashion magazines he had swiped from a couple of third year Hufflepuffs in the library. He was sprawled out on his bed in the dormitory as Alfred, Yong Soo, and Vash prepared to turn in early. But, of course, things were never quiet in Gryffindor Tower.

"Are you mental?"

Feliks snapped his head up, exchanging curious glances with Yong Soo, Alfred, and Vash. Muffled voices seemed to be coming from the common room. It sounded like Harry. Apparently he was back from detention.

"What's going on, da-ze?" Yong Soo asked, jumping to his feet and rushing over. He and Alfred peered outside down the stairs.

"Should we investigate?" Alfred asked with a grin.

"Totally," Feliks replied. What better way to waste a Monday evening? As long as it meant he didn't have to write another essay. The three Gryffindors rushed off. Vash followed grudgingly behind them, shaking his head with his hands tucked into his pockets.

Elizaveta was already there, surprisingly, seated on one of the couches. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and that ugly orange furball cat were gathered by the fire, and Harry, with his hand soaked in some sort of astringent slosh, didn't look happy.

"What's going on here?" Alfred looked around. "Dude, what's wrong with your hand? It's bleeding!"

"It was Umbridge!" Elizaveta said. "Do you know what kind of detention she gave Harry and Arthur? Made them write with a bewitched quill! She cut their hands open!"

"What!"

"She got Iggy too?" Alfred looked shocked.

Vash clenching his fists. His hands inched for the wand hidden in his jacket. Feliks stepped away, not wanting to be a victim of the Swiss man's misplaced anger.

"Guys, it's not that bad," Harry said, rubbing his head.

"Dude, she's making you slice open your own hand!" Alfred said. "The hero's gotta do something! Damn, you think Arthur's alright?"

"Well, he is a…" Elizaveta trailed off, eyes flickering to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Luckily, they didn't seem to notice.

"Slow down, Alfred," Harry said before the riled up American could rush out of the common room. "There's nothing we can do… She'll just make sure anyone we tell gets sacked."

There was a dejected murmur of agreement. How hard would it be to add to Umbridge's power trip with a few more Educational Decrees? Not very.

"But what was all the shouting about?" Yong Soo asked with a tilt of his head.

"Oh, Hermione just came up with a brilliant idea," Ron said. The bushy-haired Gryffindor flushed.

"It wasn't really my idea… It was actually something Alfred said that made me think of it."

"Oh, sweet, another person listening to the hero!" Alfred pumped a fist in the air.

Vash rolled his eyes. "Do you even know what it is you said?"

"Not at all!"

"So like, what's the idea?" Feliks asked, only half paying attention. Part of him was imagining what it would be like to torch down Umbridge's wardrobe. It brought a smile to his face.

"Well, Alfred said that even a student could probably teach better classes than that horrible woman. That got me to thinking…" Hermione paused. "What if we had our own Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons? We really aren't learning anything in her class, at this rate we won't be prepared for the OWLs, and seeing as… V-Voldemort is back," Ron visibly flinched, and Hermione shot him a look, "we should learn how to defend ourselves, with actual spells and lessons."

"That sounds like an awesome idea!" Alfred exclaimed.

"Definitely, da-ze!" Yong Soo added.

Vash frowned. "That sounds like a risky idea. Who would be the teacher, anyway?"

"Harry," Ron replied, nodding his head at the Boy-Who-Lived. "He's beaten You-Know-Who loads of times—not just when he was a baby. There was also the Basilisk, and over a hundred dementors!"

"That was all luck!" Harry exclaimed. "I'm not qualified to teach! I'm not amazing like you two keep saying!"

"I don't know, I'm liking this idea da-ze," Yong Soo said thoughtfully, scratching his chin.

Alfred nodded eagerly in agreement. "The hero approves!"

"If we get caught, it could mean expulsion," Vash said, grimacing. "But… it is for safety reasons…"

"I've already agreed with Hermione," Elizaveta said with a nod. "And sneaking around under that hag's nose is just a bonus."

"Guys—no—I—Feliks!" Harry looked exasperated as he turned to the blond boy. "You think this is a crazy idea too, don't you?"

"I'll like, decorate the class!" Feliks said cheerfully. Harry face-palmed.

"Alright, alright," he said, defeated. He slouched back in the armchair, stroking Crookshanks' head with his good hand. "I'll think about it… We'll figure this out later."


Ahah! If the Italy brothers' lesson seemed a bit lax, don't worry, it's only the first lesson. Umbridge hasn't quite gotten into her tyrant-mode yet. I personally had a hard time writing this chapter.

Nocebastone I think means, correct me if I'm wrong, Walnut Stick (or wand), which is where Feli and Lovi got their wand-woods from. Their cores are from water nymphs, nymphs originally being from Greek mythology, but the nymphs that the Romans had were usually water-based instead of the variety the Greeks had. This one is a bit more complicated, but the wand lengths come from the regions of North and South Italy. I think the numbers are correct (Sardinia included in Lovi's, and another inch for the other smaller islands).

Lots of people got America and Canada's wand backgrounds right. :3 Congrats!

Anyway, thank you so much for the feedback, everyone! Stay tuned!