Summary: Rebecca Curd, Penelope Trimble, and many others are returning to Hogwarts. But what's this? A new school for witches and wizards has sprung up in Britain? Yes. Boarwilds aims to absorb Hogwarts, and already students are transferring. But proud students like Rebecca and Penelope aren't letting Hogwarts die so easily. With a new headmaster – sorry, headmistress, as well as a batch of new professors that range from awfully strict to seriously deluded, they're ready to do battle. Raging hormones and reawakened prejudices only add to the madness!

If I owned anything regarding HP or Hogwarts, I would be ridiculously happy.

I am not ridiculously happy (even with chocolate milk).

Therefore, I do not own anything regarding HP or Hogwarts. :P

Chapter Fourteen

First Appearance of the Polyjuice Potion

"Patsy of Canada!"

The aforementioned Gryffindor sighed inwardly. When was he going to quit that? "Hello, Sven!" she replied brightly. "I see you are in your Durmstrang training uniform. The next challenge is, like, today, isn't it?

The Bulgarian lad grinned. "Yeah, and my waiting is not able!"

Not this again! Patsy forced a smile onto her face. Sven was endearingly brave and courteous, but the language barrier was a little exhausting. "Do you know what's happening?"

"Nah, but it will require strength!" he stated proudly, flexing his muscles.

Staring at them, the redhead momentarily forgot why he annoyed her. "Ah... I see... I think you'll do just fine." She giggled nervously and fidgeted with her blouse's collar.

Sven beamed and enveloped her in yet another bear hug. "I'll listen for your cheers!"

Watching his retreating backside, Patsy scolded herself for the way she appraised his form so thoroughly. To her dismay, she couldn't find anything wrong with him, physically.

"There yas are!" a perky British voice squealed from behind her. Becky was at her side in an instant, following her line of sight. "You've got yourself a wonderful catch, there."

Patsy flushed. "Well... Like, what about you? You've got Ninian to take to the dance."

Her fellow Gryffindor grinned mischievously. "Indeed. In all truth, I did not see that coming. I suspected he might have been a little fond, but..."

"Ohhf! Just 'cause he asked to the dance doesn't mean he's, like, totally into you."

Becky hunched her shoulders and stuck out her tongue. "Just as well. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about him."

There came the sound of a slamming door, and Penny stormed into the scene, her black robes swirling about her. "Becky! Oh, thank the spittle of Merlin's hounds!"

Patsy and Becky exchanged glances. "What's happened?" the latter asked hesitantly.

"It's Roderick... He hurt his ankle and was sent to the hospital wing... But that's not it!" she added hastily. "When Pomfrey came back from checking her office, he was gone! He's been missing since midday!"

Oh, hell, Patsy thought with a sigh. Just what Becky needs.

"I don't understand... How quickly could he get away with an injured ankle?" Becky asked with a surprising, or perhaps frightening, calm.

Penny looked strangely pale for someone who didn't have a missing brother. "Also..."

"What?" Patsy asked, exasperated. "Spit it out, for the love of pants!"

It wasn't enough to even crack a smile from her friend. "They had to elect a replacement Hogwarts student for the challenge today... And the name surprised us all." She swallowed. "Despite the fact that he is underage, the cup chose... Gilbert Malfoy."

*****

McGonagall peered down at him and crumpled the parchment in her fist. "I suppose you think this is funny?"

Gilbert knew he should be feeling immense pleasure from this great honour, but it was a little hard to feel happy with those eyes boring into him. "Ah..."

"Let him alone, Minerva," Professor Armsby said quietly. "Is this not just like Potter's time? Someone put his name in there, to try and get him hurt. It's probably the same with Malfoy here."

"Someone wants me hurt?" Gilbert asked, trying to sound strong, though the last word came out higher pitched than he intended. "But who?"

"I don't know, Malfoy," McGonagall said tiredly. It was not often one could tell just how old the powerful woman was... Then again, how old was she? She could be past one hundred for all he knew. "Unfortunately, I called your name out as the new Hogwarts champion. A major portion of the student body witnessed this... I cannot stop it."

The Slytherin boy ran a hand through his hair, the hair that was a perfect blend of his father's ice blonde and his mother's auburn. Strawberry blonde sounded a bit girly for a lad, but the colour suited him fine. Merlin's picnic! I'm thinking about my hair at a time like this?!

"Very well, Headmistress," Gilbert said, his inner emotions warring. He was delighted to have such a position bestowed upon him, but if someone wanted him injured...

Out in the corridors, he thought about finding Penelope. She'd probably have a somewhat sensible solution to the problem, and then smirk and suggest jokingly that he'd hired one of his older house mates to put his name in for him. He smiled wryly.

He encountered someone else instead: a very timid Brian Wilts. "Malfoy. You're friends with Miss Trimble, right?"

"That's one way to put it," Gilbert replied quietly.

Brian smiled slightly. "Right. Well. I thought of asking her to the dance, you know, because she and I are friends I guess, and the girl I originally thought of is already taken... But I'm too nervous to ask her. I tried to get Eva to do it, but she called me a pansy."

The Slytherin inhaled sharply. "And how do I come into this?"

"I'm getting there! I have a bottle of Polyjuice Potion -"

"You went rooting around in Armby's closet?"

"No! Today a bottle was found lying around the corridors with a mysterious substance in it. That know-it-all Weasley girl took one sniff and pronounced it as Polyjuice." He dug it out of his robes.

"And...?" Gilbert was beginning to tire of Wilts's long-windedness.

The Hufflepuff took a deep breath. "I want you to put my hair into it and drink it. And... and then ask Penny out for me."

"What?" This was most distressing. Gilbert couldn't offer any excuse for why he wouldn't want Brian to take Penelope, and as he had accidentally said yes to Lori the Slag's invitation, he couldn't take her himself. "Well, I..."

"Please?" Brian asked, his bright blue eyes growing puppy-like.

Better Brian than some creepy bloke. And besides, Brian isn't after her heart. He sighed. "I'll do it." In one swift motion, he grabbed the bottle and yanked a hair from Brian's head.

*****

With a heavy sigh, Minerva sank into the plush velvet seat of her office's chair. He disappears just in time for the second challenge. Where in the name of Circe's wrinkled petticoats could he possibly have gone? An injured man cannot move that quickly. Poppy had made it quite clear that she had stepped into her office for a mere five seconds before returning to find herself lacking a ward.

Doily, her darling house elf, crept out of her room and approached the witch cautiously. "Mistress, Doily brought tea. Mistress?"

Minerva numbly gestured to her desk. "Oh, Doils. Whatever will I do now?"

The house elf set the tray of tea on the desk and frowned. "Mistress? Doily does not understand. What is your problem?"

"Oh, I shouldn't trouble you. You wouldn't be able to fix it anyhow."

Doily's eyes grew wide. "Doily has failed to be an assistance? Oh, Mistress! Forgive me! I shall punish myself twice as hard to-!"

The headmistress's hand clamped on the house elf's mouth, cutting her off. "That will not be necessary, dear." She let go to stare at the gilded ceiling. "One of our students has gone missing in a strange fashion. I... I fear Hogwarts may not be safe. Yet again."

The house elf poured her a cup of tea and then glanced at the clock. She gave a start and nearly dropped the pot. "Mistress! Oh, do look at the time!"

Minerva's gaze dropped to the clock and she gasped. "It's time for the second challenge already? Doily, do be a dear and fetch me my cloak and hat!"

"Yes, Mistress!" she squeaked happily. House elves like simple requests like this.

As she dressed for the cool weather, Minerva turned to the portrait of Albus Dumbledore. Biting her lip, she whirled away quickly, ashamed. Forgive me, Albus. I have failed you. A foolish feeling overcame her, and she almost bashed a book on her forehead like Doily often did when her mistress wasn't quick enough to stop her. Bad Minny! Bad Minny!

A/N: Whoa, this chapter is actually shorter than the ones I've been submitting lately. I guess I may be learning the art of brevity… "Brevity is the soul of wit," as Billy Shakespeare would say. If this continues, I may find myself able to write a short story that is actually under ten pages… (good times in writer's craft… poor teacher…)