Author's Note: REVENGE AT LAST! It didn't take long to get here, but all you reviewers (I love you all) were really mad - and so you should be - on Su's behalf, and I finally got a prank idea and had to write it down before I forgot it so... this is the result.

I love the Weasley twins. So, so much.

Enjoy.

~ Revenge ~

Harry and Neville refused to leave Su's bedside once Oliver had untangled himself from her and dropped her off in the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey eventually gave up on trying to get them to leave and let them sleep in the beds on either side of Su.

"We'll get them for this," Neville declared heatedly. Harry was surprised – he'd never seen Neville so angry. "They've gone too far," Neville said. "Look at her!"

It was true; Su was pale and sweating, moaning in her sleep. Harry and Neville reached out to hold her hands, hoping that this small comfort would help keep the nightmares away.

"I'm not going back," Su whispered. "You can't make me. Don't leave me here, please! It wants me to go through! It wants me back!"

"What do you think she's talking about?" Harry murmured.

"I've no idea, mate," Neville replied, glum.

Oliver met the Weasley twins outside once he'd left Harry's little friend in Madam Pomfrey's care. He had what the twins called his 'game-face' on.

"Boys," he said. "Someone needs to pay. No one deserves what that girl's just gone through. We need to keep an eye on her."

"You don't need to tell us twice," George agreed.

"We'll plot," Fred added. "You get us names, we'll give you victims."

Oliver nodded. "We'll come back in the morning to check on her, okay?"

All in agreement, they went back to the Gryffindor common room to plot their revenge.

Hermione and Ron were released from Hospital Wing the next day, and had become – somehow – the best of friends. They still fought all the time, Harry noticed, but it was more along the lines of Ron wanting to copy her homework, and Hermione refusing.

It was an odd friendship, he thought, but he supposed it worked for them. Maybe battling twelve-foot trolls was just one of those things that brought people together.

Su woke up briefly in the morning – long enough for Madam Pomfrey to feed her a whole slew of potions, but not long enough to talk to her friends.

Reluctantly, Harry and Neville left her alone to go back to classes, assuring Su's friends that they had found her and that she was okay – Padma was relieved, Lisa was unreadable, and Blaise Zabini was grim.

At lunchtime, Blaise asked the house-elves to bring up a tray of sandwiches to the Hospital Wing and trotted off to go make sure that Su was okay. He was surprised to find Oliver Wood already there, but the fifth-year had had a free session, and was keeping an eye on the traumatised girl.

Oliver didn't say anything when Blaise walked in – he just nodded and continued doing his homework on Su's beside table. Blaise sat down on Su's bed, reaching out to hold her hand. He didn't interact with her much outside of Astronomy, but he liked her – she was smart, and funny, and he hoped that she was okay.

Su yawned and blinked awake, smiling when she saw Blaise sitting next to her.

"Hey," she whispered, her voice hoarse. Blaise winced.

"You okay?" He asked – which was a stupid question, of course she wasn't.

"I'll be fine," she told him, but he wasn't assured.

"Who did this to you?"

Su hesitated. Blaise gripped her hand tighter in his.

"Who did this to you?" he repeated. "Su, there are pranks and then there's torture. I've heard rumours in the common room, but I need to hear it from you – who do you think was behind this?"

Su sighed. "Probably Pansy and Millicent," she admitted. "You were the one who told me that they hated me. I didn't expect them to take it so far."

"Pansy was bragging about getting one up on you – she even had your wand," Blaise grimaced. "She said you wouldn't be bothering us for a few days. Not until you'd 'learned your lesson'. How'd you get your wand back, anyway?"

Su grinned, though she was still pale. "Summoned it," she said. "I knew the spell – I didn't think it would work – just… accio wand."

Blaise was impressed. "Wandless magic's supposed to be really hard."

"It is," Su agreed. "It's part of the reason I'm still here. Magical exhaustion. Sleep deprivation. Emotional trauma… the works."

"We won't let them get to you again," Oliver murmured, and Su blinked at him – she didn't know that he'd been sitting there.

"When did you get here?" She asked sleepily. Oliver grinned.

"While you were sleeping," he said. "Someone needs to keep an eye on you, kid."

"Tell me about it," Blaise murmured, thinking of all those times Su had fallen down a flight of stairs and ended up in that very bed for half an hour. "Parkinson's a menace. Bulstrode's just another lackey, but she does whatever Parkinson wants her to. Makes sense, I guess – Bulstrode's got no other friends to go to."

The tray of sandwiches suddenly appeared on Su's lap, startling her.

"Oh," Blaise smiled, picking up a ham-and-cheese. "I asked the house-elves to send these up. I didn't know if Pomfrey was feeding you up here."

"Thanks," Su picked an egg salad. Wordlessly, Oliver chose a chicken and lettuce.

They chatted aimlessly for a few minutes, including Oliver in the conversation when Su asked about O.W.L. level potions, which was also Blaise's favourite class. They were deep in discussion about blood-replenishing potions when Harry, Neville, and the Weasley twins showed up.

"Su! You're awake!" she found herself being smothered in hugs from both Harry and Neville. They were all laughing and crying at the same time.

"We were so worried," Harry told her.

"Frantic," Fred agreed.

"They were out of their minds with panic," George threw in.

"Absolutely mad," they chorused.

"We've got a plan though," Neville told her, eyes flashing angrily. "For Parkinson and Bulstrode… and maybe whoever's been stealing from you in Ravenclaw."

"Let's hear it," said Oliver, putting his homework to the side.

Fred and George exchanged glances. Their captain had told them that 'someone had to pay'. Their identical grins were enough to make Blaise promise himself never to get on the Weasley twins' bad side.

"Look at these," they pulled a handful of black marbles out of their pockets. "We decided to call them 'Private Eyes'. Originally they were supposed to be distractions for Mrs Norris, but we tweaked them a little, and added a recording effect – from another product to record the results of our genius – and voila! Instant spies."

"What do we do with them?" Blaise asked. The twins turned to him, confused.

"What's a slimy snake doing here?" Fred frowned.

"Dunno, mate," George peered at the mysterious addition to their little conference.

"Is he supposed to be here?" They asked Harry, who shrugged.

"Blaise is a friend," Su murmured, her voice quiet. That was good enough for the twins.

"What they do," they said, holding out the Private Eyes, "is observe and report. Like a pensieve."

"What's a pensieve?" Harry asked.

The twins exchanged glances. They weren't really sure how to explain it.

"Why don't we just show you?"

"Alright."

Fred whistled, and a spider scuttled out from behind Su's pillow, startling her and Blaise. On closer inspection, however, it wasn't a spider at all. It was one of the little black marbles, which had grown legs – and looking closely, Harry could see that some of the markings on it did resemble an eye.

"Report," ordered George.

The group gaped in amazement as the little marble unfolded itself until it held up a scream about the size of Su's pillow. Their jaws dropped further when it began to replay their entire conversation, starting from when Harry and Neville had jumped on Su's bed and smothered her with hugs. The picture was clearly from the Private Eye's point of view; it must have been sitting on the headboard of Su's bed.

"It's like a movie!" Harry exclaimed. "A spy camera!"

"A what?" Fred asked.

"We'll have to show them some spy movies later, Harry," Su grinned. She could only imagine what mischief the twins would get up to inspired by movie spy gadgets.

"So what's the plan?" Oliver asked.

"We need Parkinson to confess," Neville told him. "Get evidence of her crimes. Then we show the whole school – teachers, students, everyone."

"That's easy enough," Blaise grinned, picking up one of the Private Eyes and examining it. "I can get her to talk. Parkinson's always eager to brag about herself. How do these work? I'll bring one into the Slytherin common room and get her confession."

Fred and George frowned, but Neville was the one who agreed.

"Blaise can handle it," he said.

"Sure, but if you want one, it's four galleons," George shrugged.

"I might hold you to that," Blaise grinned.

"To activate it, you just tell it to 'observe: the person you're interested in'," Fred explained. "To get it back, you just tap the Command Button – here, you just stick it on your robes somewhere – and say, 'debrief'… or if it's nearby, you can just whistle, like we did. Then, when you want it to, you can either just say 'report', or use the Command Button to order it to report."

Blaise nodded, dropping the Private Eye into his pocket and pulling out four galleons – why he carried money on him in the school was a mystery – and handed the coins to the twins, whose eyes widened.

"Pleasure doing business with you," said Blaise. "It shouldn't be too hard for me to find your essays, either, Su. Parkinson's grades have gone up since she started stealing them, so I think she's copying them. I'm sure Daphne will be glad to get them for me: she owes me a couple of favours."

"Thanks, Blaise," Su smiled.

"The pleasure's all mine."

"All right then, men," Oliver stood up. "We've got a game plan now. Weasleys, Potter, I'll see you tomorrow at eight. Longbottom. Zabini."

He strode out of the Hospital Wing.

"I'd better go, to," Blaise grinned, leaning over to kiss Su on the cheek while she giggled. "I've got criminals to catch and all that."

"See you later, Blaise," Su waved.

"See you, Zabini," Harry added.

"Thanks for your help, Zabini," Neville nodded.

Su was quiet when all her friends were gone. The Hospital Wing was unnaturally silent. Madam Pomfrey had gone off to get lunch, and no students had been injured in her absence yet.

She worried about classes – hoped that she wasn't falling behind. She had already missed a few days. Maybe she could get Harry or Neville to sneak her their class notes.

The door creaked open, and Su turned her head to watch whomever it was who had come in. She was surprised to see Snape limping through the doorway towards her, his arms full of phials and jars and bottles.

"Hello, Professor," she murmured.

He jumped, startled. Whipping out his wand in his surprise and whirling around to point it at Su's face.

Must be leftover paranoia from the war, she thought idly. The potions that Madam Pomfrey had fed her made her feel floaty and lightheaded. It wasn't a bad feeling.

"I didn't mean to startle you," Su smiled serenely.

"I'm sure," he sneered, looking rather off-put by her mild mood. "What are you doing here, Miss Li? Skipping classes? Clearly, your laziness knows no bounds."

"Oh no," Su shook her head. She was feeling a little dizzy. "I'm emotionally traumatized from being locked in a freezing cold broom shed with a boggart."

Snape blinked. Surely not. The girl was lying.

But Su was nodding to herself, no longer really talking to her professor. "That's what Madam Pomfrey said. She said I was beside myself!" She looked around. "But there's only one of me! How can I be beside myself?" She giggled.

Snape felt a little ill.

"The boggart kept trying to eat me, so I haven't had much sleep," Su went on. Snape paled a little more. "Mmmm – at first I thought that I was in a room with Voldemort! Ha! He's not back yet though. It was only a boggart. I hope he doesn't come back. That would be unfortunate – what mum would call 'a bad happening'."

"Unfortunate," Snape repeated, quite at a loss for words.

Even the Dark Lord had never locked anyone in a room with a boggart – though, he supposed – perhaps the Dark Lord had simply never thought of it. He resolved never to tell Voldemort, should they ever cross paths again.

"Magical exhaustion," Su ticked off her fingers. "Because I had to summon my wand, because Pansy stole it when she put me in the broom shed. It took hours – it must've been trying to get through the castle. It didn't unlock the door though – locking charms were too strong for alohomora. Funny. The third-floor corridor can be opened by any first year that knows a simple unlocking charm, but not the Quidditch shed. 'No place safer than Hogwarts' indeed." She snorted.

Snape was so confused he didn't even think to ask when she'd gone to the third-floor corridor. Pansy? Pansy Parkinson? Maybe Potter's story wasn't such a tall tale after all.

"Professor," she was looking at him again, though her eyes were unfocused and clouded. She had been given an over-strong Calming Draught, he thought. The babbling and numbed emotions were a side effect, clearly. "Professor?"

"Yes, Miss Li?" He replied, with some difficulty.

"Do you hate me, sir? Because I haven't been doing my homework? I have been doing my homework, you know. But someone keeps stealing it. It was quite rude of them, actually, now that I think of it. I worked very hard on those essays. Potions – my favourite class – like math! There's an answer that you're working towards, and rules to follow… and if you follow all the steps correctly, you get it right!"

She's completely out of it, Snape thought.

"Professor?" She asked again.

He sighed, but she went on, still.

"Do you hate Harry, sir?" Snape stilled, and looked at her. Her eyes were still unfocused, but not quite as clouded as they had been. "Why, sir? Harry's nice. He hasn't done anything to you. He likes Potions, too!" She grew quiet. "Harry needs a friend, sir. Bad things are happening. Voldemort's coming back – or trying to – and he wants to kill Harry, but I don't know why. No one's looking out for Harry. He's all by himself. Locked in the cupboard under the stairs and starving… that's a terrible childhood for anyone. You'll look after him, won't you, sir? You're one of the Good Guys, aren't you? Mum always told me you were. Even if you aren't nice, you're still good, right?"

Snape could only think of one way to shut her up – to make the questions stop. The things that she said… they were starting to scare him. It was like she saw things in him that he had buried in the core of him years ago.

"Here," he said, pulling a Dreamless Sleep Potion out of the collection of phials and jars he had brought up to replenish Poppy's stores. "Drink this."

Carefully, he held her head and tilted the potion down her throat.

She blinked up at him, and he was drowning in those starry black eyes of hers – she smiled, as if she knew all the answers, and he was uncomfortably reminded of Albus Dumbledore, for some unfathomable reason.

"Good night, Professor," she murmured, as she nodded off to sleep.

Snape backed away, hurrying to put all his potions and balms in order so that he could get back to his offices as soon as possible.

He needed a drink. A strong one.

"Will you be better by Saturday?" Harry asked, when he and Neville came by for dinner. "It's my first Quidditch match, you know. Gryffindor versus Slytherin."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Su grinned. "Neville – you and I had better learn some hexes. We won't let those snakes cheat their way to a win!"

"Absolutely," Neville grinned. "I wouldn't mind showing Pansy the proper way to jelly-legs jinx someone. A Long-Nose charm would fix her looks, too!"

Harry and Su laughed at the mental image, until Neville turned the conversation to a slightly more serious topic.

"Blaise is going to get Pansy's confession tonight," he told them. "Daphne Greengrass already has your stolen essays: apparently Parkinson was keeping them in a drawer. She's not very bright, is she?"

"No," Su grinned. "She's not. Maybe she's part troll?"

Neville laughed, but Harry was thoughtful.

"That reminds me," he said. "Neville and I think Quirrell's been acting suspicious. I don't know if you've heard, but on Halloween a troll got out into the dungeons. Quirrell came running into the Great Hall to tell us all."

"Is that why Hermione and Ron were in Hospital Wing?" Su asked.

The boys nodded.

"But I was wondering," Harry continued, "why wasn't Quirrell with us in the Great Hall for the Halloween feast? Why was he wandering around the dungeons in the first place, where he just happened to bump into a troll?"

"Why didn't he defeat the troll?" Neville added. "I mean, he's our Defence teacher, isn't he? And he said that he'd fought trolls before, so why not this one?"

"That is suspicious," Su frowned. "I think we should keep an eye on him… but let's not get too close. We don't want him to know that we suspect him."

Harry was quiet. He wondered if he should tell them about his scar…

"Harry?" Neville asked. "Are you alright? You look worried."

"I was just thinking…" he looked at his friends – his very first friends. Surely he could tell them anything. "I was just thinking: Neville, do you remember the first day, when my scar hurt when I looked at Snape?"

"I thought you just had a headache," Neville frowned.

"Well, it sort of was a headache," Harry admitted. "Anyway – I thought that my scar hurt when I looked at Snape, but Quirrell was sitting right next to him. And when Quirrell ran into the Great Hall to tell Dumbledore about the troll, my scar hurt a bit then, too! So… maybe my scar's telling me that he's a bad guy?"

"I dunno, Harry," Neville frowned. "It sounds a bit farfetched."

"Maybe," Su agreed. "But we can definitely look into it. Harry – you said you were getting headaches in Defence, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I thought it was all the garlic."

"Well, maybe you could try and see if it's just headaches, or if it's your scar reacting to Quirrell, then we might have a bit more definite evidence for the theory."

"What will we do if Quirrell is getting a reaction from Harry's scar? What does it mean? I mean, curse scars have always been a bit odd, but no one really knows how they work. Maybe your scar just gets an allergic reaction to garlic – or purple."

"Even if Harry's scar isn't reacting to Quirrell," said Su, "we can still keep an eye on him. Neville's right. Why should a Defence teacher who's supposed to have experience with trolls in particular, run away from the troll instead of defeating it? I mean, two first years and a prefect did it – and they're just kids."

"So we're all agreed?" Harry looked around. "We keep an eye on Quirrell?"

"Agreed," Su nodded.

"Agreed," Neville nodded too.

In the beginning, Pansy Parkinson had chosen Su Li as a target because the little mudblood had insulted both herself and her beloved Draco. As time went on she began to pick on Li because it was easy – she didn't fight back, only nursed her wounds and cried in the corner.

That Lisa Turpin was useful, too, stealing Li's essays. Copying the essays had thrown her grades into an all-time high, which was just perfect for Pansy. Two birds, one spell, wasn't that what they always said?

However, the other day when she'd snuck down to the Quidditch pitch to let the little bint out of the shed, she'd discovered that someone had already been there… and taken Li with them.

There was no way, of course, that anyone could no for sure that it had been Pansy who'd done it – unless one of the Slytherins tattled… but that was the thing about Slytherin. No one ever tattled – it was against the unwritten code.

Well, Pansy thought to herself. No one ever tattled publicly. Anonymous notes, however… Daphne's been rather uppity lately – I'm sure a letter to her father would sort out that arrogant attitude!

Still, Li's early escape had Pansy feeling oddly uneasy… even more so when she discovered that the mudblood's wand was missing as well. She'd thrown it out into the middle of the Black Lake, tied to a rock that floated just outside her bedroom window, where she could gloat over it whenever she wanted to.

When she had discovered Li had been rescued and come down to her room to sulk, she noticed that the strings holding the wand had been loosened. Somehow the mudblood bitch was behind it, Pansy was sure.

Li always gets whatever she wants, Pansy sneered. She gets stupid Harry Potter, and stupid Blaise Zabini, and stupid good grades, and stupid friends, and stupid pretty hair… stupid, stupid, stupid!

Blaise Zabini… Pansy peered at him, eating a little ways down the breakfast table. He had approached her the other night, asking about the incident with Li and the broom shed – claiming he'd heard it from a panicked Potter.

She'd bragged, of course, but now… she squinted at him, though Blaise ignored her. He was always a little bit aloof, holding himself a little separate from all his classmates, Slytherins and non-Slytherins alike. Oh, he joked, and made idle conversation, but Pansy had noticed how he tended to keep himself apart, to wander into quiet corners away from all of his classmates.

Sometimes, though… sometimes he went out of his way to talk to Li. They were partners in Astronomy, Pansy knew, and in Herbology, sometimes, too.

There was something suspicious about how friendly he'd been last night… thinking back, Pansy could remember him smirking the whole time she'd been gloating. He'd had an air of smug superiority and… triumph?

Something was up. Well, whatever it was, she'd figure it out.

Nodding to herself, Pansy took a deep swig of her pumpkin juice and stood up… but wait. Why was everyone staring at her? Why were people laughing at her? No one dared to laugh at Pansy Parkinson!

She threw a hex at Tracey Davis, who erupted with boils, and ran wailing out of the Great Hall soon after.

"Stop laughing at me!" Pansy shrieked, rooting around in her bag for a mirror. There must have been something on her face. Millie, beside her, was turning an odd shade of orange, while her hair turned a hideous green – the colours together clashed horribly.

Pansy brought her hand up, with the mirror in it, and flinched when she realised her skin was red with yellow spots. Gryffindor red. It was awful!

Her hair – rather than just changing colours – had somehow transfigured into a nest of snakes! Snakes! On her head!

Pansy screamed. "My hair! My hair! Who did this? WHO DID THIS?"

At this point most of the Slytherin table was doubled over in laughter, as were the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws who had looked over to see what all the commotion was about. The Hufflepuffs hadn't noticed yet.

Blaise grinned, and tapped his chest, saying: "Report!"

Pansy's day got even worse.

"She deserved it," Pansy heard herself say. She'd recognise her own voice anywhere. "Filthy mudblood. Always prancing around like she's better than everyone else."

"What did you do to her?" That voice was Blaise's. Pansy looked around for the source of the sounds and found, to her horror, some kind of massive projection of her own face, up on the wall behind the Slytherin table.

"I only taught her a lesson," Pansy cackled, leaving her real-time counterpart aghast. Was her cackle really that high-pitched? She'd have to work on that.

"Pansy Parkinson," Blaise said. Hang on – Pansy frowned – she remembered this conversation – she'd wondered, last night, why Blaise had used her full name. Odd. "What did you do to Su Li?"

"You really want to know? Okay, I'll tell you," Pansy had to get out of here. Everyone was looking at her – or the projection of her – whatever it was. She tried to tiptoe away, but instead, she fell on her face.

She screeched and looked down at her feet – someone had transfigured her shoes into… rubber flippers? She scrambled to her feet and tried to run away, but found that, in the flippers, it was almost impossible unless she was to awkwardly kick up her knees and escape flat-footed.

At this point she was half-blue with green spots, and half pink with purple stripes, she couldn't look any more ridiculous if she tried, so Pansy picked up her feet and ran out of the hall, the howling laughter of all the other students echoing behind her.

"Millie and I locked her in the broom shed behind the Quidditch pitch! Flint said it was out of order until they got the boggart out of it so I knew no one would come by for a while – can you imagine a better Halloween prank? You should have heard her screaming – I think she wet herself!" Projection-Pansy continued to cackle. The other students, however, had quieted and become more serious.

Some of the younger students, or the muggle-borns, or the stupid, didn't really understand what it meant to lock someone in a room with a boggart, however, and continued laughing until they realised that no one else was.

"I took her wand, too, so that she'd really learn her lesson," Pansy went on. All of the students paled at that – stealing a wizard's wand… it just wasn't something people did. "And she just whimpered!"

Projection-Pansy pouted fakely, and recited in a dramatic falsetto: "'Please! Please someone save me! Help I'm a damsel in distress! I'm locked in a room with a curtain!'"

Pansy paused, and frowned.

"Why on earth is Li afraid of curtains? She's so weird…"

The projection faded, but it had done its damage. Half the teachers were purple with rage, including – surprisingly – Professor Snape. In his case, though, no one was sure if he was angry on Su Li's behalf, or on Parkinson's.

Millicent Bulstrode had swelled up by a balloon halfway to the door and was now floating above the heads of the other students, her face flashing orange and pink and green. She was also, occasionally, belching bubbles that looked like elephants.

Flitwick decided that she could stay there until they found Parkinson – at least they wouldn't lose her, floating up by the ceiling, she was unlikely to leave the Great Hall any time soon. He glanced over at Dumbledore, who had, last night, been told that Miss Li had been located, but not the full circumstances of her situation. No one had known.

Dumbledore himself had been deeply troubled by the revelations given by the memory of Miss Parkinson's confession – that really was a very odd pensieve. He hoped to find the perpetrator of this particular prank and ask how they had organised it.

When told by Poppy Pomfrey that Miss Li had been found in one of the old broom sheds, he had assumed that perhaps she had been playing hide and seek and accidentally locked herself into one of the sheds that only the Quidditch captains could open, using their specially spelled keys.

To hear that Miss Li had been subjected to such a hideous torture as being locked in a room with one's worst fears, for hours – days – on end with no wand to help her even hope of escape… He would have to discuss Miss Parkinson's behaviour with Severus. It appeared that they had a sociopath on their hands, and Miss Parkinson would have to be dealt with accordingly.

He watched as Professor McGonagall cleared out the Great Hall, demanding that the students continue on with their classes and assuring them that the situation was being dealt with. Ah… Minerva was marvellously capable, wasn't she?

A curtain? Dumbledore mused, as he stood and made his way out of the Great Hall. He found himself treading the familiar path that would take him to the Hospital Wing. Why on earth is the girl afraid of curtains? Would it be rude of me to ask…?

Running out of the Great Hall, Harry, Neville, and the Weasley twins offered high-fives all around. They waved to Oliver as he rushed by – his first class that morning was Potions, and he expected that Snape would be in a right foul mood for it.

"The swimming flippers were genius!" Harry roared with laughter, remembering the look on Parkinson's face when she'd stumbled over the awkward footwear. He remembered one time Dudley had made him wear the things and then played 'Harry Hunting' with his friends… it had been difficult to run in them, and he'd tripped over more often than not, but if he stopped to try and take them off, Dudley and Co. Would catch him and beat him up…

Those thoughts weren't very cheerful – Harry reminded himself of Pansy's snake-hair again, and the way she'd changed colours every few seconds. God, that was hilarious.

The Weasley twins had also set up a bunch of Private Eyes around the Hall, and Blaise had had one on his shoulder to get Pansy's full reaction. They'd show Su the footage later; sure that it would cheer her up.

For now, however, Harry and Neville had Transfiguration, and Professor McGonagall did not like to be kept waiting.

A/N: Does anyone else know how ridiculously hard it is to walk, let alone run, in swimming flippers? I'm pretty sure I have scars on my knees from tripping onto the concrete in those things. Flippers are not for land-lubbers.

Thank you all for reading up to this point: I'd love to hear what you think about it so far, or any ideas you have for what might happen in future chapters!

Next up: Quidditch! And maybe Christmas! I don't know if they're big enough/small enough to fit into the same chapter or be split up. I suppose only time will tell.