Something Familiar
Chapter 14: "Involuntary Volunteers"
AKA: "Burning Passion"
Friday afternoon saw the trio attending their second Potions class. The period started out as something of a nightmare.
Snape seemed to be taking out his previous embarrassment (and thorough dressing-down at McGonagall's hands) on the first-year Gryffindors. He swooped around the room like a bat, assuming bats had hair and thought rancid grease made a great conditioner. The "teacher" seemed to take great delight in breathing down a student's neck until they made a mistake, then docking them points.
Neville quickly became a favorite target of his. The boy wasn't a great hand at brewing to begin with. He lacked the fine dexterity required to prepare the ingredients and a proper sense of timing when mixing them. He was even worse when Snape was looming over him, his hands shaking twice as much as normal.
Snape was quite pleased with the tremors and the boy's perceived fear. It was an understandable reaction given the situation. From that angle he couldn't really see Neville's white-knuckled grip on his knife, nor the deep scratch it'd left in the table.
It all came to a head when their cauldron melted, sending them scrambling out of the way. Even from the other side of the room Harry could see Snape's smirk. The jeers and laughter from the Slytherin side of the room were immediate, as were the glares of their own housemates. Losing points because you were being pressured by a scumbag teacher was one thing, but losing them because you were incompetent was another entirely.
"Hey, at least we grabbed your balls," Harry whispered, his voice lost in the sound of the sizzling puddle their cauldron became.
Hermione sighed. "Would you please not say it like that?"
Neville just sat there, staring at their former cauldron with a dark look on his face. The corner of his eye twitched as he listened to the half-heard whispers around the room.
They were laughing at him. They were mocking him. They were laughing at and mocking his friends, as if they were somehow better than them. They were barely better than ignorant cattle trampling a beautiful flower.
Poison and thorns...
"Hermione, why did our cauldron melt?" he asked blandly.
"You chopped the windpuff sprig too coarsely," his friend responded. "The uneven mixture caused a sever exothermic reaction."
"So coarse sprigs are bad? Like, dangerous bad?"
"Not really. The burst of heat is powerful, but extremely localized. It won't do much more than melt a cauldron. They wouldn't have us working on dangerous potions yet, you know…"
Neville suddenly looked up and gave his friends a bright smile.
"Orchid. Do it," he ordered.
A creeper slid out of his collar, whirled around and snapped like a whip. The movement sent a small cluster of objects through the air in a high arc, just as Snape turned his back. The small sticks twirled around as they fell towards the Slytherin students.
Several students looked on in confusion as their cauldrons spontaneously splashed, the result of an entire, unchopped windpuff sprig landing neatly in the center of their potion-to-be.
Every Slytherin cauldron melted.
Actually, that was selling it short by quite a measure. Coarse sprigs are bad, after all, and a whole chunk of it was about as coarse as you can get. So the Slytherin cauldrons didn't so much melt as liquify, instantly becoming a cauldron-shaped mass of molten metal. The fluid sculptures immediately succumbed to gravity, sending students screaming and lurching backwards. The white-hot puddles quickly bored through the tables, leaving a hole ringed with blue flames in their wake.
"Huh. I thought these tables couldn't burn. I guess I was wrong," Neville casually observed. "Nice shot, by the way."
Orchid gave his body a cheerful squeeze.
Hermione sighed, "They're made of ironwood. It has an insanely high ignition point, but it does burn." The witch frowned as she packed her things. "Once it's on fire, it's pretty hard to put out. Breathing the smoke for a prolonged period isn't a great idea, either. I think you just cancelled class," she muttered quietly. The precaution was likely unnecessary, as it was unlikely anyone would hear them over the loud screams from the Slytherin side of the room.
"Neville? Next time you want to destroy a classroom, please tell me first…" Harry requested. "I think I almost splashed water in the boat…"
"Do you really have to bring that up?"
"I didn't mean to destroy anything! Hermione said it wasn't dangerous!" Neville whispered, pointing an accusing finger at the witch.
"Well I didn't expect you to throw a whole windpuff sprig into every cauldron in-"
Neville's eyes widened. "No! Don't!" he cried just a little too late. Orchid's vine had already whipped out again, sending sprigs flying into the air.
Screams erupted around them as the rest of the cauldrons in the room liquefied, cutting the Gryffindors' laughter short. The sudden appearance of more flames and molten metal was the final straw. Panicked screaming suddenly turned into a mad rush for the exit. A crowd quickly built up as the Gryffindor and Slytherin students fought to leave the room.
The boys stared at Hermione.
"That was not my fault!" she snapped.
"I'm pretty sure she thought you were disappointed because she missed some cauldrons," Neville groaned.
"Hermione! You should think of Orchid's feelings," Harry scolded. "Be nice and tell her she did a good job."
"Well…" Hermione thought about it for a moment. "Class is over and I'm pretty sure no one can blame us. All the evidence is a little too on fire to be evidence. So… good job? I guess?"
"Good. Do you think they're serving lunch yet?" Harry asked. "I kind of want barbeque now…"
"I'm pretty sure they're not serving lunch yet, Harry. Let's just go study or something for now," Hermione requested.
"And maybe not set anything else on fire," Neville mumbled. "I can't believe I just ignited a classroom…"
Harry squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "It's okay, Neville. You just had a little 'oops' is all. It happens."
"I'm not sure that burning down part of a school is one of those things that 'just happens' to people. It is pretty impressive, though," Hermione stated. She paused, then groaned, "Wonderful. We're going to have to wait for that to clear up before we can do much of anything at all," and pointed at the small riot.
"You know, Fred and George are probably going to be jealous. We've burned down more classrooms than them," Harry giggled. Suddenly, his face went pale. "Uh… you don't think they'll… you know… try to beat us, do you?"
"Don't even joke about that," Hermione ordered. "Do either of you know where my red quill is?"
Neville pointed at the feather sticking out of their puddle of molten pewter. "It was next to the cauldron when it mysteriously melted."
The three first-years examined the quill for a moment.
"Why isn't it on fire?" Harry inquired.
"You're seriously complaining that something isn't on fire?" Hermione huffed. "I'm pretty sure we have an adequate amount of fire at the moment, Harry."
"But… it's just a quill…" Harry protested. "It's a feather floating in a puddle of metal. I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be on fire."
Hermione bit her lip as she stared at the writing implement. "Maybe is't a magic quill? Granted, making a quill fireproof wouldn't be the first thing I thought of as a useful addition, but wizards are clearly quite mad. Maybe wizarding quills don't burn."
Both muggle-raised children gave their wizard-born friend inquiring looks.
"Uh, you guys realize I've never actually tried to set a quill on fire, right? I've never actually looked at a quill and thought 'gee, this would be better on fire' before," Neville protested.
Hermione reached over, snatched Harry's quill of the desk and tossed it into the pool. It immediately burst into flame and vanished. Belatedly, she asked, "Harry, can I borrow your quill?"
"You're supposed to ask that first, you know."
"Yes, but then you wouldn't have let me throw it in the fire puddle," Hermione pointed out as she fished around in her bag. "It was for science, Harry."
"Magic," corrected Neville.
"Right. Magic. I've got to get used to that, I suppose. Ah, here we are!" she exclaimed. She extracted a ballpoint pen from her bag and tossed it into the pool. The pen, unsurprisingly, instantly melted into the pool and became nothing.
"Hermione, why did you think the pen wouldn't burn?"
"I didn't, Harry. That was just a control test. It was also because I hated that color, but it was part of a stationary set my parents gave me as a gift. Now I can honestly say I dropped it and lost it."
"...right. I guess you did both drop it and lose it. It's technically true."
"Technically," Hermione happily agreed.
"Uh, guys? People aren't punching each other any more. We should probably leave," Neville pointed out.
"But… the quill!" Hermione protested.
"We probably shouldn't be playing with a puddle of molten metal anyway, Hermione. I mean, why waste time with that when we have sticks that can set anything on fire whenever we feel like setting something on fire? Also, melted metal might be dangerous. But mainly the fire thing."
"...I do have another red quill. Do you think Fred and George will teach us how to ignite it?"
Harry thought for a moment. "Will Fred and George teach a bunch of eleven-year-olds how to set things on fire at will…?"
"Yep." "Yeah." "Definitely."
"Alright, fine. But we'll have to get another cauldron. Oh, and another one to actually use after we melt that one," Hermione agreed. She casually tossed a roll of parchment into the puddle and watched it burn. "Yup. Parchment burns."
"Hermione, why would you think-"
Another roll of parchment went up in flames.
"What?" Hermione demanded as her friends stared at her. "The first one might have been an anomaly."
"Are you just doing that because throwing things into the instant-fire pool is amusing?" Harry inquired suspiciously.
"...no."
Harry sighed. "Hermione, we agreed not to play with the cauldron. Well, former cauldron."
Hermione pouted, but slipped an inkwell back into her bag.
Neville examined the puddle speculatively. "Hey, do you think wizarding diaries are fireproof? Gran got me a really ugly one for my last birthday…"
Harry gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "There's only one way to find out, Neville. We'll get the twins to teach us a fire spell tonight. There might even be more than one!"
"Sacrifices must be made for science!" Hermione added.
"Magic," Neville and Harry corrected her together.
"Right. That one."
The trio finished packing their things and made their way out of the room, debating how they could break the news to the twins without turning it into some sort of competition.
"Do you think this would make decent blackmail material?" Blaise asked curiously as he watched them go.
"You need some sort of proof to blackmail someone, Blaise," Daphne pointed out. She frowned slightly as she watched the slowly-expanding ring of blue flames. "What are we still doing here? I don't really have any empirical evidence to support it, but I doubt we'd enjoy being on fire."
"Panicking now would be a waste of valuable effort. Ironwood takes a bit to build up steam. Of course, if we're still here at that point, it's pretty much 'account closed' for us."
"So why are we here?" Daphne demanded. Just a hint of annoyance crept into her voice.
Blaise looked at her in surprise. "Uh… we were waiting for the last witnesses to leave. Getting caught raiding the materials cabinet would probably result in penalties I'd rather not pay."
"...we're stealing potions materials?" Daphne asked blandly.
"Everything's on fire anyway," Blaise pointed out with a shrug. "We're salvaging the ruins. We just happen to be doing it before they're actually ruins. It's much more efficient and profitable that way."
"..."
"There's valuable stuff in there, Daph! What's the point in letting it burn when I could be selling it instead?"
"Blaise, I don't think- eek!" Daphne squeaked in surprise as something cold brushed her foot. Suddenly it was like her entire leg had been dunked in ice water.
Both Slytherins looked down just in time to see Snow crawl between their chairs and plunge her hand into the molten puddle that was once their cauldron. There was a hiss as the glowing, white metal quickly cooled and returned to its normal color.
"Warm…" Snow sighed. The snow woman began to climb to her feet, only to be brought up short. She looked down to where her hand was embedded in a blob of hardened metal that had fused itself to the floor. Looking up at her master helplessly she whimpered, "I'm stuck…"
"Ah. This is something of a setback…"
"You see what happens when you get greedy?" Daphne scolded him.
Blaise gave her a confused look. "Your familiar uses a molten cauldron to adhere herself to the floor? I wasn't aware that was a common problem…"
"You know what I- Don't!"
Snow, stretching as far as she could, plunged her free hand into the next cauldron over. There was a happy sigh, after which she fruitlessly tried to withdraw her limb.
"I'm stuck…" she announced again, her face pressed against the floor.
"I'm starting to think this plan may not end up being profitable," Blaise sighed. "Do we have sufficient resources to remove my familiar from the floor?"
Daphne nodded and sighed, "If properly applied, yes." She turned toward the back corner of the room, where Sparkles was asleep with his back against the wall. "Sparkles. Wake up and do something useful."
A deep snore escaped the familiar's lips.
"Sparkle! Wake up!" she demanded in a much louder and slightly annoyed tone.
Blaise stared at her in surprise and took a step back. Given how little the Greengrass' expressed themselves, a cry like that normally meant they were considering removing your head from your shoulders, beating your dog to death with your cat and setting your home on fire with your collection of vintage pornography still inside..
"Wake! Up!" she snapped, punctuating each word by stomping on the asura's thigh. When that failed to work, she gave him an annoyed glare. "Fine. It's clear being polite will accomplish nothing. Blaise, let me borrow your familiar for a second."
"Uh, sure… Snow, do what she says, okay? Preferably before she decides to kill someone."
"But… I'm stuck…"
"That's okay. You don't need to be able to move," Daphne reassured her. "Just lift your leg up. Now move it to the side. No, the other way. Just a bit higher. Perfect. Now, stick out your foot as far as it will go."
Snow extended her leg.
A dainty, white foot pressed against a very small piece of fabric. Blaise stared in horror as the snow woman's bare flesh came into contact with Sparkles' crotch.
Sparkles' eyes shot open with a surprised cry of, "Gyark!" He shoved himself back and up into the corner, powerful legs pressing him against the wall hard enough to crack the stone. Slamming his hands back, he managed to dig his fingers straight into the wall. He quickly shot up to the ceiling, climbing like a spider.
"Awake now?" Daphne asked in a smug tone Blaise was certain her parents wouldn't approve of.
"Th' hell!? Ya tryin' ta freeze my damn balls off!?" Sparkles demanded from his perch by the ceiling.
"Maybe you'll wake when I call for you in the future. If you think you can manage that, I'm certain this won't happen again."
"Ya seriously tryin' ta use torture 'n threats ta get yer way?"
"...yes?"
"Oh. 'S good!" he declared. Releasing the wall, he plummeted down to the floor with a crash. The flagstones cracked and split around his feet. Towering over Daphne, he gave her a grin. "Now yer speakin' my language. Whaddaya need, Boss?"
"Snow managed to get herself stuck. Get her free," Daphne ordered, pointing at the snow woman.
"That's your idea of proper application of our assets?" Blaise demanded in disbelief. "Saying, 'Get her free' and pointing?"
"It doesn't matter how a conclusion is reached so long as it is correct. Why would it matter how I accomplish something, so long as it is accomplished?" she responded. Turning to Sparkles, she asked in a firm tone, "It will be accomplished, right?"
The asura stared down at Blaise's familiar. The girl was laying spread-eagle on the ground. Her arms were stretched as far as they would go, both hands embedded to the wrist in a pile of metal that no longer even remotely resembled pewter. Her face was pressed firmly to the floor, and every now and then she'd whimper as she tugged at one of her trapped arms.
"Can we just leave 'er here? That'd be a lot less work," he suggested.
"Sparkles…"
"What? 'S not like a li'l fire's gonna hurt 'er. She'll prob'ly like it," he answered reasonably.
The Slytherins thought about that for a moment.
"She doesn't look very comfortable, and I'm not certain her clothing is as fireproof as she is," Blaise finally offered. "Until the new garments I ordered arrive, it's too valuable to let it be destroyed."
"Right. Makes sense. So, how many pieces you want 'er in? I can defin'ly manage three 'r more."
"Just get her out in one piece and unharmed. Now," Daphne ordered, kicking her familiar in the ankle. She immediately winced as it became readily apparent she would have been better off kicking a stone wall.
Blaise took another cautious step backwards. Then he decided to take two more, just to be safe.
"Right, right," Sparkles chuckled. He lashed out and slammed his foot into the worktable. The piece of flaming furniture was torn out of the floor, launched across the classroom and slammed into the chalkboard. Sparkles wandered around the trapped familiar to stand on the next tier down, right by her head. "Yer a damn slavedriver, y'know that?"
The snow woman twisted her neck so she could more or less look at him. "Help…?" she asked hopefully.
"Yer damn lucky it ain't my call…" the asura muttered. He leaned forward and pressed the fingers of all his hands against the metal surrounding hers. "Normally I'd warn ya this might sting a bit, but unfortun'ly I don't think tha's the case…"
With a grunt, Sparkles flexed his arms. Daphne and Blaise watched in surprise the veins in his limbs started glowing. His fingers sunk slightly as the metal around them began to melt.
Snow let out a happy sigh.
"What the heck?"
"Ya think I was kiddin' when I said asura were hot-blooded, Boss?" Sparkles responded, frowning. Narrowing his eyes, he pressed down harder. His fingers sank a bit more as the glow in his veins intensified. There was a slight sizzle as the asura's heat battled the snow woman's cold.
Another quiet, pleased noise escaped Snow's lips. This one didn't sound even remotely appropriate. It would probably be a lot more accurate to call it a moan than a sigh.
Suddenly Sparkles straightened and withdrew his hands, earning a protesting whimper.
"She ain't commin' outta that crap, Boss. She's suckin' it as fast as I can give it," Sparkles announced.
Blaise snorted, then quickly looked away when Daphne glared at him. She'd been acting a bit off since they'd arrived at Hogwarts. He really didn't want to piss her off, largely in part because she wasn't supposed to be able to get pissed off. Greengrass family frowned upon anything that hampered your judgement. That, of course, included anything even resembling strong emotion.
"The flames are changing color. I'm afraid time is rapidly becoming a scarce commodity," Blaise pointed out.
"You really can't get her out?" Daphne demanded.
Blaise took yet another step away from her. He was now nearly halfway to the door. Just in case.
"I told'ja, 'd be real easy if I could do it 'n pieces," the asura pointed out reasonably. "Yer forgettin' 'm an asura. 'M real good at breakin' stuff, but… Hey, 's it okay if she comes wit' some extra pieces on 'er?"
"What are you-"
Without further warning, the asura bought his arms down. Closed fists hammered the floor in a tight circle around Snow's hands. Daphne could actually feel the impact shaking the floor. Snow let out a frightened squeak as the stone cracked and shattered around her.
"Spakles! Why-"
Her familiar grabbed Snow by the ankles and hips (earning another pleased noise), then dug his remaining hands into the metal lumps. In one smooth motion he hauled her off the floor, her legs extended upwards and the heavy hunks of cauldron supported by his lower hands.
Snow's kimono fell down around her torso.
"Huh. She doesn't," Blaise observed.
Daphne sighed. "Honestly Blaise? I arrived at that conclusion just hours after you summoned her. It was quite obvious, if you look at the evidence."
Sparkles frowned at her white cheeks and quickly spun Snow around, supporting her hips, waist and pewter lumps. "It's bad enough I gotta look at yer ass without havin' ta look at yer ass."
Snow sighed again as she stared down at her master with a serene expression.
"Blaise? Your familiar seems to have come… dislodged," Daphne pointed out.
The wizard nodded. "Yes, I had noticed that. You know, she has a rather attractive figure. Perhaps I should have her model for one of mother's new clothing lines…"
"Blaise…"
"For that matter, I wonder if Mr. Potter and Mr. Longbottom would be willing to sell me the services of their familiars as well. We have had quite acceptable relations with both houses in the past. Well, until the past few generations, at least."
"Blaise."
"Now, Daphne, it's important to represent all manner of body types in a catalogue. Ms. Angel and Ms. Orchid will make excellent models for the far ends of the spectrum."
"Blaise!"
"Yes?" Blaise asked, looking up at her in confusion.
"The fire, Blaise. You do remember the fire, right?"
The wizard looked around curious. The majority of the classroom was now a raging inferno, and the fire was quickly picking up in both speed and temperature.
"Oh, yes. That. You know, you could have simply left. Remaining here with me was not exactly a beneficial enterprise on your part," he declared.
"Don't be an idiot."
"Well, now we're both mixed up in a bad deal, aren't we? There seems to be quite a bit more fire around the door than there used to be."
Daphne sighed. "I don't know how you can be so smart about some things and so dumb about others. Like anything else, you simply have to assess your resources and apply them properly," she scolded. Gesturing towards the exit she announced, "Sparkles. I want to go through that door."
"Proper application of resources is telling your familiar to solve the problem for you? Again?" Blaise demanded.
"If it works, it was the proper way to do it," Daphne declared. She gestured towards Sparkles. "Well?"
"Yeah, yeah…" he muttered. He marched up to the brilliant yellow flames surrounding the doorway and, without even the slightest hint of hesitation, shoved Snow into it face-first.
The fire went out.
Snow made a noise that suggested something extremely inappropriate had just happened.
"Oh dear…" Blaise mumbled. "You know, at times I wish fewer resources had been allocated to my education. I have a feeling I'd be quite a bit less disturbed right now."
"It's just another biological function, Blaise. It's nothing to be embarrassed about," Daphne countered. There was a distinct red tinge to her cheeks.
Sparkles marched back up to them with an extremely annoyed look on this face. In his grip, Snow stared down at her master with a dazed look on her face. The asura thrust her at him menacingly.
"This ain't happenin' again. You got that? It ain't happenin' again!" he growled. "Next time somethin' like this happens, 'm gonna throw 'er through the wall to make a hole for ya."
"Uh… yeah… Blaise?"
"Yes Daph?"
"The kimono wasn't fireproof, Blaise."
"Now that you mention it, I was just noticing that myself. I'm a bit disappointed. Inherently fireproof fabric would have sold well," he sighed. "And how does that work, anyway? Shouldn't she have just absorbed any fire on the fabric?"
"The heat must have passed through her clothing on the way to her skin," Daphne decided. "I suppose it makes sense. Those were hot flames, and the heat has to get to her somehow."
"Well, now we have one less kimono, an additional naked familiar and no school supplies. It'd seem we're at a net loss."
"I told you this was- What? Why wouldn't we have school supplies?"
Blaise shrugged. "Because your familiar kicked everything that was still on our desk straight into the inferno, and our bags have been on fire for a while now."
"...and you didn't feel the need to say something?"
He shrugged again. "Well, it was hardly worth mentioning, was it? It's a bit difficult to write on parchment that's on fire using a quill that's on fire dipped in an inkwell that, surprisingly, also on fire. Not to mention the fact that we'd have to get past the fire to remove the burning supplies from our bags. Which are on fire."
"Yes, Blaise, I get it. Let's just… throw our robes over Snow and see if we can find Professor McGonagall. She'll be able to transmute that stuff off her hands."
"Effective, with little cost to us. An excellent idea," Blaise eagerly agreed. "Hopefully we'll sort this out before they start serving lunch. Suddenly I want barbeque quite badly."
Daphne had a suddenly, nearly overwhelming desire to punch her friend in a sensitive region. As if in response to the urge, Sparkles began to chuckle.
Things weren't looking good. They weren't looking good at all.
Neville was complete rubbish at all their current subjects aside from herbology. Charms, DADA and transfiguration were somewhat beyond him. The correct wand movements, the pronunciation and the timing of the two were all very difficult for him to grasp. Even with copious amounts of aid from both Harry and Hermione, he barely completed the second class' assignment before the end of the period.
Bizarrely, he was quite good at both the rather difficult subjects of arithmancy and runes. In fact, he was so good at them that it was a bit shocking. It seemed an enormous amount of free time and the drive to please someone who would never be pleased had paid off in spades. Even the twins were impressed, especially since several of their fellow third-years were complaining about the subjects after only two classes.
It helped that he was observant enough to quickly spot errors and seemed to have a natural talent for seeing how things should fit together. The fact that he could easily and accurately decide which of the seventeen runes for 'fire' he should use meant he spent far less time looking at charts and dictionaries than normal.
The first runic circle he finished had earned him amazed looks and gratuitous amounts of praise from the Weasley twins. Neville had spent a full five minutes just staring at his work and quietly mumbling the word "Useless" repeatedly. Just as his friends were beginning to grow worried, mouth had opened into a fairly frightening grin.
"Useless…?"
The last repetition of the word was quite a bit louder and in a significantly different tone.
Hermione did in fact have excellent recall. It wasn't quite a photographic memory, but she had a definite knack for remembering the important parts of whatever she read, along with a smattering of minuta relating to those topics. Coupled with a reading speed that came pretty close to being inhuman, it made her something like a walking, talking version of CliffsNotes.
Harry, on the other hand, was a little bit different. He was pretty mediocre once you averaged out all his subjects. That was ignoring Herbology, of course, during which he huddled near Orchid and occasionally poked a plant with a long stick. But as the twins tested them with more advanced material, his aptitude decreased in every subject. By the time they reached material from the end of first year, he qualified as 'not quite adequate' at most. He'd most likely improve as he received a better understanding to of the basics, but he was a far cry from Hermione. She had a definite talent for understanding the advanced material and spells - even though she couldn't cast them yet - that he lacked.
There was only one thing they found that he excelled at. He took to the Immolation Spell like a duck to water, but showed no real aptitude other than that..
His real value laid in the fact that, although he was such a nice person, he was extremely creative in the worst possible ways. During their planning sessions he proved himself to be surprisingly devious..
In addition to that, they quickly learned he was very difficult to locate when he didn't want to be found. Perhaps it was a skill learned from avoiding Vernon and Dudley, but he could move about incredibly quietly. Given dim lighting and a small amount of cover, it was exceedingly difficult to detect him. Several games of something resembling hide-and-seek had ended with the twins being tagged before spotting him almost every time.
Needless to say, the Weasleys were pretty much over the moon. They were quite vocal about congratulating themselves for adopting the picks of the litter. While it was pretty obvious Harry and Neville would need to do quite a bit of studying in the future, their skills were ideal for the task at hand.
So, things weren't looking very good at all. In fact, the situation was quite dire.
For Hogwarts.
"Move them," Harry said suddenly.
He was gathered with his friends, huddled around a table in the Gryffindor common room. The group had been clustered there for an hour, trying to solve a fairly major problem. Luckily, it was Sunday. There'd be no classes tomorrow because it was Registration Day, so burning the midnight oil wouldn't be a problem.
His friends looked at him curiously.
"What do you mean?" George asked.
"We don't want people figuring out where the traps are and avoiding them, right?" Harry inquired. "So we move them. No one'll find them if they get moved."
"We talked about this, Harry. Making a trap that moves itself and moving them manually are both way too much work," Hermione protested. "It'd take forever and a day to make just one, let alone a whole bunch of them."
"No, no. Not the trap. The people," Harry clarified. "If we just curse a flagstone, everyone'll figure it out quick. But if it doesn't do anything at first, people'll be all over the place when it goes off."
"Makes sense. How'll people figure it out if everyone starts popping up with pink hair all over the place," Fred agreed with a thoughtful look on his face.
George stared down at the table as he drummed his fingers against the wooden surface. "We're talking some kind of delayed-reaction potion here. Something we can apply to people on demand without them knowing it. It'd have to be an inhaled or contact potion, and we'd need some way to hide it and deliver it on demand."
There was a brief moment of silence.
"Is… is that even possible?" Neville hesitantly asked.
"It's actually not that hard to change the application method of a potion," Fred declared.
George added, "People just don't do it because normal potions are easier to make and use."
"And there's the problem. Either way, we need to expose the victim to enough potion for it to take effect."
"Uh, can we not call them victims?" Harry asked. "I mean, that makes us sound kind of bad."
"Harry's right. We're on the side of justice. We don't have victims," Hermione agreed.
"Prey?"
"That's… actually worse, Fred.
"Suckers?"
"Marks?"
"Patsies?"
"Quarry?"
"Sacrifices?"
"Okay, that one's definitely worse."
"Sitting ducks?"
"Soft targets?"
"Involuntary volunteers?"
"Ooh, I like that one," Harry declared.
"Me too," agreed Neville.
George scratched his head in confusion. "But, does that even make sense? What're they volunteering for?"
"Justice," Hermione answered firmly. "They're volunteering for justice, Fred."
"George."
"Are you certain?"
"About ninety percent. And you called Fred 'Fred' not five minutes ago. It's pretty hard to believe you don't know which one I am."
Harry suggested, "You might be Bob."
"Yes, there is always that possibility…"
"Anyway, the point stands. They're involuntarily volunteering to be… justiced, I guess?" Hermione finished lamely. "That doesn't quite sound right…"
Fred nodded solemnly. "They're involunteering to be justiced. I kind of like that."
"That's not what I-"
"Alright!" Fred cheered. "Who's good with nailing those nasty involunteers with some good ol' fashioned justiceding?"
Harry, Neville, Fred and George immediately raised a hand and cried, "Aye!"
Another "Aye," came from King who had, until just now, been silently protesting the entire situation. Seeing his comrades staring at him, he muttered, "What? It is quite poetic, and a rather clever play on words."
"Is it really okay to be so loud about this?" Hermione demanded.
"Ah, Lady Hermness, privacy spells are a wonderful thing," George comforted her.
"Yeah, so stop stalling," Fred ordered. "Let's hear it."
"Fine. We are now justiceding involunteers with all our skill and might," Hermione sighed. "Now that we've wasted five minutes, could we please get back to the actual point of this meeting?"
"The point was that the more subtle application types are a lot harder to apply. A person has to get a certain amount of potion in them for it to work," George explained.
"It's not like we can just walk up to someone and ask them to stand in a cloud of potion vapor until it finally takes effect," Fred pointed out. "That's kind of the opposite of subtle, which makes the subtle potion a bit less than subtle."
"Can we give them sticky balls?" Harry asked. He quickly flushed when the rest of the table stared at him like he'd just grown a third head. "I mean, Fred's balls were lemon flavored, right?"
"Lime," Fred corrected. "With subtle overtones of raspberry and a hint of grape."
"I am not going to ask how you know, that, brother."
"No, what I mean is… You said the lollipops were potions, and you said you can make potions work when they touch someone," Harry clarified. "Can you give them sticky balls that did something?"
Fred gave him a pat on the head. "Harry, if your balls are sticky, they probably already did something."
"Fred, you can be quite disgusting…" Hermione muttered in - you guessed it - disgust.
Fred gave her an affronted look. "I am not.. And, by the way, I'm George."
"No you're not. If you're going to pretend to be your brother, at least trade places or something," Hermione sighed. "Besides, I doubt George would actually say something like that."
The twins gasped.
"You mean… you mean we're different people? I'd do something he wouldn't?" Fred whispered in mock horror.
George shook his head in denial. "That's impossible. We look the same. We must be the same person."
"Even if we weren't the same person, how could someone we've known for three days know that?"
"Why, our own mother can't tell us apart half the time."
"Of course, the fact that you've talked to us more in three days than our mother does in a month might have something to do with it," Fred muttered.
"That's not true at all, George. Why, just the other day she was telling us how disappointed she was."
"Was this before or after that time she said she was disappointed in us?"
"No, no. I meant the one between that time she said she was disappointed in and the time she said she was disappointed in us."
"Ooh, that one," George gasped, as if receiving some great revelation.
"Wow. Pent-up resentment, much?" Hermione muttered.
"Wait… it makes you upset that people can't tell you apart, but it's okay that King calls you both Red?" Neville asked.
"Oh, the king can tell us apart perfectly well."
"Yup. Listen real close and you can tell who he's talking to by how he says it."
"He just started called us that when we first met and just never stopped."
"I think it's habit."
"And I think he's clinging to it because that's about as close to a joke as he'll get."
"I believe I have told you both many times. I am quite aware of the concept of humor."
"Of course, King. Of course," George condescendingly reassured him. "Anyway, about Harry's sticky balls."
"Can we not refer to them like that?" Hermione pleaded.
"It's a really good idea. If we can make something that sticks to their skin or even gets in their clothes, we don't have to rely on them staying still until it takes effect," George plowed on.
"The delayed onset will actually be helpful," Fred added. "Ten people can get hit by the same trap, but they'll all be in different places when the effect hits. Even the delay will vary, since it'll depend on exposure and a bunch of other stuff."
"Could we make a really fine powder or some sort of aerosol?" Hermione asked.
"A really fine powder would be best. If the grains were small enough, they could work into cloth and they'd be really hard to detect. We can make a powder more concentrated than a mist, and the involunteer's own heat and sweat will melt it," George theorized.
"It does get swampy under these robes," Fred added.
"So, how do we deliver it?"
"The floor," Harry suggested. "If it goes straight up into their robes, it'll get right on their clothes and no one will see it happen."
"So how do we cover someone's swampy balls with goo?" Fred inquired.
"I- I think I can…" Neville said hesitantly.
"Go ahead, Neville," Harry prompted. "We want to hear."
"Expanded trunks use runes carved into the middle of the wood, where you can't see them. They figure out the right phrasing, then use numerology to put the runes in the right spots. It's really not as hard as everyone seems to think, and once you figure out the right alignment, you can use it over and over."
"So everyone who buys those trunks is getting screwed?" George asked curiously.
"Not really. You still have to carve and activate the array. But a flat array is even easier than a trunk. All we'd have to do is make a little hole and expand it a lot. I think I can figure out how to make it tell if someone's above it and squirt the ball powder, too."
"You do, of course, realize that simply carving a rune array into the floor is quite far from subtle, do you not?"
Again, the rest of the table stared at him in surprise.
"King, buddy… I thought you weren't helping?" Fred asked.
"I am not helping. I am simply pointing out the obvious. The array would quickly be noticed and even if it was not, Hogwarts would simply heal the etching over."
"No, it wouldn't," Hermione disputed, "In The Definitive G-"
"Whoa, Hermness. Hold up," George ordered, holding up a hand. "We don't need to know where it's from or any of that crap. If you know it and you're confident it's right, then that's good enough. Anyone disagree?"
George's question was met with a deafening silence.
"Ah- I- Uh-" After several false starts, Hermione settled for staring at the table while turning an impressive shade of red.
"So, what've you got, Lady Hermness?" Fred asked curiously.
"Basically, Hogwarts was made to allow alterations. If we can convince the castle the array is supposed to be there, it won't be touched."
"Can we make a little hole and put the potion mine in that?"
Fred gave him a curious look. "What's a 'potion mine,' Harry?"
"It's what we're making. It sounds a lot cooler than saying, 'array' over and over."
"I like that," Neville agreed. "Potion mines sound like exactly what you need when your justiceding involunteers."
There was a general muttering of assent.
"So why dig a hole, Harry? It'd just get filled in," Hermione inquired.
"Exactly. That's what they do with the trunks, right? Neville said they put everything in the wood so you don't have to see it. When the castle heals, it'll cover the potion mine all by itself."
Everyone else gave him clearly impressed looks.
"Harry, buddy… have you destabilized governments before or something?" Fred asked. "Because if you have, there's no need to hold out on us."
This time it was Harry's turn to blush.
"So, that sounds like a great plan. There's one minor problem," George declared.
The three-first years looked at him curiously.
"Supplies," Fred stated. "Buying them and getting them into the school."
"Oh, I can see how that would be a problem…" Hermione muttered.
"I have money," Harry stated. "A lot. But I guess the headmaster watches it all and has to say it's okay for me to use it."
Fred sighed, "Of course the answer wouldn't be easy."
"We'd have to trick All-Lust into giving us money and smuggle it into school. I don't know about you guys, but that's a bit out of my scope…" George added.
"Oh? That's almost a little surprising," Hermione stated.
"Hermness… sneaking some contraband into school in your trunk is one thing. Actual smuggling and fraud are some seriously shady business…"
Harry stared down at the table, frowning in thought. Something about George's words had just given him a very bad idea.
"Guys, I think we might have a problem…" Neville announced.
"Is it the fact that we should be waking up soon, but we haven't gone to sleep?" Harry inquired.
"Probably also a problem, but no."
Hermione hummed as she pondered. "Is it that tomorrow is Registration Day, but my familiar seems to have jumped ship?"
"Definitely a problem, but also no."
"Our decision to deliberately drive people insane to satisfy our personal grudges?"
"I feel surprisingly good about that, actually."
"How about the fact that we intend to destabilize an entire academic institution because it conflicts with our personal values?"
"No, I feel pretty good about that too."
"Maybe it's the fact that we don't know how many licks it takes to get to the center of a tootsie pop."
"Between 144 and 252, depending on who you listen to," Hermione announced. "My personal average is 221.7 after 87 pops."
"Oh, never mind. If it's not that, I bet it has something to do with the fact that our friends and apparent role models have no problem teaching us potentially dangerous spells?"
"Getting warmer."
"Is it that even though he learned it yesterday, Harry's affinity for the Incineration Spell is so high that it's a little scary?"
"A lot warmer."
"Uh… the fact that we don't have any cauldrons to use in our next Potions class?"
"That is a problem, and pretty close to what I'm thinking of."
"That no one in either of our dorm rooms has a cauldron to use in our next Potions class?"
"Did they see you take them? Did their familiars see? Can they talk?"
"No, yes and no, respectively."
"Same on our end. Not a problem."
"Eh, we won't be having a Potions class until the school replaces all the ingredients and equipment, anyway."
"Is it the fact that Hermione's parents think it's okay to send an eleven-year-old to school with a case of energy drinks?"
"I like them. Blue Stallion gives you balls!"
"No. I liked them too. They make me feel all buzzy."
"Is the problem that I don't have a case of Blue Stallion anymore?"
"Uh, not really."
"Yes it is, Neville. That was supposed to last me two weeks. Now I have none until my parents send more."
"I know! We're probably dangerously close to a fatal caffeine overdose! Is that the problem?"
"Not the one I was thinking of…"
"Harry, stop bouncing. You're making me nauseous."
"I'm pretty sure you're nauseous because you crammed toi much Stallion into yourself."
"For some reason I feel like I should be glad Orchid wasn't here to hear that," Neville sighed.
"Is it the fact that I now want to sit down and lick 87 tootsie pops?"
"I think that's probably just weird, Harry."
"It would be nice to compare data. I have a strong suspicion that the results are based on one's licking technique."
"I think I'm probably glad Orchid didn't hear that either."
"Oh! I've got it!" Harry yelled triumphantly. "It's the enormous puddle of molten metal sitting in the middle of our common room!"
Neville examined the enormous puddle of molten metal that was sitting in the middle of their common room. "Yeah, I'm thinking that's probably it. In fact, I'm certain that's it. This isn't exactly how I planned to spend the end of my weekend, guys."
"Technically it's the beginning of your week at this point. I'm pretty sure we popped into Monday a few hours ago."
Hermione also surveyed the giant, glowing mess on the floor. "I don't really see how this is a problem. There isn't a single rule against pouring several dozen kilograms of molten pewter on your common room floor. Or anywhere else, for that matter."
"Really? There isn't?" Harry asked curiously.
Hermione shook her head. "No. I checked. Not a single one. It seems like something of a glaring oversight, really."
"Hermione," Neville groaned. "That's because no sane person would even think there needed to be a rule for that… Normal people don't do things like that."
"Normal people don't melt a pile of cauldrons by waving a stick. Besides, we were responsible. We pushed all the furniture against the walls and moved the rugs," Hermione huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's not like we did something irresponsible."
Harry gave her a skeptical look. "Uh, Hermione? Maybe you missed the enormous puddle of molten metal in the middle of our common room…"
"Oh, I see it. I just refuse to admit that the pool of molten death is the result of poor decisions on our part."
"So… what part of gathering every cauldron we could find and having Harry melt them all at the same time isn't a poor decision?" Neville asked.
Harry frowned. "I have to admit, I am kind of questioning that now. A little."
"Well? What part of that seemed responsible?"
"..."
"Hermione?"
"Give me a second!"
"The part where it was awesome!" Harry supplied.
Hermione grinned and pointed at the pool. "Yes! That part."
"Well… it was pretty awesome…" Neville grudgingly admitted.
"You're right, though," Hermione announced. "We can't do this again."
Neville sighed.
"I mean, it'll take forever if we wait for everyone to get new cauldrons. We'll have to use something else next time."
"Or steal them from the upper-years," Harry added. "Which might not be a good idea. Especially since a bunch of cauldrons have already mysteriously disappeared."
"Mysteriously," Hermione agreed sagely.
"..."
"How about the goblets? I bet we could get a lot of goblets from the Great Hall," Harry suggested.
Hermione considered it. "Not a bad idea, but I think they're made of pewter too. We should find something that isn't made of pewter."
"The silverware. It's made of silver… I think? I mean, it's silverware..." Harry suggested. "I bet it'll melt all shiny."
"Guys…"
"And there's lots of rocks outside. We could melt rocks!" Harry continued.
Hermione's eyes widened in wonder. "There's a lot of rocks outside. It's practically an infinite supply. We could melt a ton of rocks…."
"We shouldn't be melting random crap!" Neville broke in. "Someone could get hurt!"
The pair considered that.
"I guess… if someone came down stairs and they were half-asleep… they could just kind of…"
"Go 'splash' and 'sizzle' before they realized?" Harry suggested.
With a regretful sigh, Hermione agreed, "Yeah, that."
"No, I meant one of us could get hurt!"
Harry stared at him. "Uh, does that mean it's okay with you if someone who isn't us gets hurt?"
"Not really, but… It's a giant pool of glowing, molten metal," he pointed out in an abashed tone. "Who just walks into something like that? It's really not the sort of thing you go and do."
"I know I wouldn't expect others to feel bad for me if I did something foolish like that," Hermione agreed. "Half-asleep or not, it's pretty hard to miss. It's not even near the stairs."
"Hermione's right, though. It'd be bad if someone got hurt. There's probably a rule about causing the horrific death of another student," Harry announced.
"There is. Someone got expelled for it around half a century ago," Hermione confirmed.
"I kind of feel like… some really terrible stuff happens in our school," Harry decided. "It kind of worries me I like it better here anyway..."
"Agreed on both counts."
"Yeah, me too."
"I would feel pretty bad if that happened, even if it was their fault. I mean, I don't really want to hurt anyone, even if it's an accident."
"But you're okay with inflicting horrible, possibly emotionally-scarring embarrassment and confusion that could lead to widespread panic and chaos?" Neville asked him.
"Sure. A little emotional trauma never hurt anyone. Just look at us. We're fine," Harry announced.
"...you and Hermione were just laughing hysterically as you melted a pile of stolen cauldrons and turned them into a molten sea of death that covers three-quarters of the common room."
"It's closer to four-fifths, actually," Hermione corrected.
"You guys kind of scare me,' Neville mumbled. "Is this some sort of muggle thing? Do you just go around setting things on fire?"
Pondering that, Harry quickly assessed his memories of Dudley's gang frying ants with a magnifying glass, lighting bits of newspaper on fire with a stolen lighter, chasing him with burning sticks, trying to set one of Mr. Figg's cats ablaze and being brought to the hospital after they "found" a can of petrol.
"I think so," he said agreeably. "At least the boys do."
"And I've been told quite often I don't act like a girl, so I think it's all perfectly normal." Giving him a comforting squeeze, Hermione reassured him, "Don't worry, Neville. If we set someone on fire, of course it wouldn't be you."
"Not on purpose, anyway. You were standing way too close to that pile of cauldrons when they suddenly decided to become a puddle," Harry added. "You should probably watch out for that."
"...guys? Who said anything about setting someone on fire?"
Hermione looked at him, clearly agast. "Setting someone on fire? Neville, what a terrible thing to say! Who in the world said anything about setting someone on fire? Harry, did you say something like that?"
"Nope. I'm about 107% percent sure you didn't either. With an 80% margin of error," Harry replied. "That makes me 40=(x-15+)*2+10 percent sure."
His friends stared at him.
"What? Sometimes you just have to read what's handy, you know?" Harry said defensively. He stared back at them for a moment, then giggled. "Algebra's so weird. They turn letters into number, guys. Numbers!"
"Right… Of course, now that Neville's brought that terrible subject up… If I were to set someone on fire, it would be someone that said I should do something about my ugly hair, and that I should cover my hideous freckles with makeup, and that sleeps in the bed next to me, and has a name that rhymes with 'lavender' and just doesn't know when to stop bugging me about reading books…"
"Ooh, is it Lavender? I bet you want to set Lavender on fire!" Harry guessed with a grin.
"You know, Harry, you really ought to take up Divination when you can," Hermione suggested. Taking in Neville's horrified look, she sighed. "I was kidding, of course. I was only planning on setting her hair on fire, and only if I think I can get away with it."
"Have you guys always been like this? Because… I'm honestly kind of amazed you're not dead or under the care of a mind healer…"
Hermione stroked her chin thoughtfully. "I really haven't. But you know what, Nev? When I saw all the neat things in Diagon Alley, something clicked in my head. It really hit me that this was a whole new world, a place where no one had decided they could be mean to me. At that very moment, I decided I would be happy here, even if that meant showing people I could be a lot meaner than them," Hermione answered with a dark look on her face. "Fire seems like a pretty good way to demonstrate that."
"I just… don't care, I guess? I mean, the twins were nice, then King was nice, then you guys were nice and I got Angel. I don't really need everyone to like me, I don't think any of you'll stop liking me because I melted a few cauldrons…" Harry said with a shrug. "Which is good, because it's fun and I'm probably gonna keep doing it."
"Exactly! I know you wouldn't stop liking me, even if I did accidentally set you on fire," Hermione cheerfully agreed.
"Please don't set us on fire…" the boys whimpered together.
"Oh, don't be so dramatic. If anything, we should be worried about Harry. I can't even cast the Immolation Spell yet, but he…" Hermione trailed off, gesturing towards the glowing puddle.
"Yeah, Harry, that's kind of scary. You shouldn't even be able to do that. Like, you really, really shouldn't be able to do that. You've been using your wand for what, three days? You barely know how to hold it."
Harry gave the a confused frown and rubbed his head. "I dunno. It was like something went 'pop' in my brain when the twins showed me. It was like, 'Hey, this sets things on fire! We can do this!' and all of a sudden it was really easy."
"You learned the spell so easily because your brain finds the idea of setting things on fire particularly agreeable?" Hermione asked, disbelief clear on her face. "Harry… that is kind of scary. I mean, I like the Sea of Molten Torment too, but..."
"Hermione 'Let's Steal All the Cauldrons and Have Harry Set Them on Fire' Granger think's I'm scary. Okay, sure… Try to avoid the glass when you throw those cauldrons."
"Do you guys hate cauldrons, or something?" Neville demanded. "Like, did a cauldron kill your dogs?"
Hermione shook her head in disappointment. "Honestly, Neville. How would a cauldron kill a dog?"
"Maybe the dog drowned in melted cauldron?" Harry suggested.
"Yeah, about that. Are we gonna do something about this, or are we seriously going to just leave it here!?" Neville demanded, pointing at Cauldron Sea.
"Uh, it would probably be less dangerous if it wasn't quite so-"
"-bone-liquefying hot?" Hermione finished.
"I thought bones just burned. They actually do that? Liquefy?"
"Until about twenty-two minutes ago I would have said 'no' with an unshakable degree of certainty."
"Please focus," Neville groaned. "We need to cool that down before Ron trips into it or something."
"I like how he just assumes Ron's going to trip into it."
"It does seem like a safe assumption, though."
"Just cool it down, okay?" Neville pleaded.
Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance.
"Uh, why are you asking us?"
"Yeah. You're the wizard-wizard."
There was a brief silence as the three of them stared at each other.
"So~," Harry drawled. "No one actually knows how to cool 45kg of melted cauldron down, huh?"
"Closer to 50kg, really. And no, no we don't," the witch admitted, burying her face in her hands. "This is- Headwig!"
The small owl, previously dozing in her hair, had been dislodged and catapulted forward by the sudden motion. The three friends watched helplessly as the white ball of fluff sailed toward the pool of molten death. The poor bird hit with a very audible plopping noise, vanishing into the metal.
"Headwig…" Hermione whimpered.
A small, white head popped out of the liquid metal and looked at her curiously. Headwig shook a bit of molten pewter off her head and began waddling around in the mess like it was little more than water.
"Uh…" Harry said dumbly, his mouth hanging open. "Hermione? Now I'm sure there's something wrong with your owl."
Headwig began rolling around in the pewter, using her wings to splash it up over herself. The bird began preening, straightening out her feathers heedless of the fact that her beak was dislodging beads of white-hot metal.
"Something really, really wrong," Neville agreed.
"Aww, that's adorable!" Hermione declared.
The owl, hearing her voice, suddenly looked up. She regarded Hermione for a moment, then produced a happy trill.
The witch's eyes widened as her owl popped out of the metal and flew towards her. "Headwig! No!' Hermione cried as she turned to flee the bird. Headwig, not quite understanding, pursued her around the common room. Fine beads of cauldron spewed from her wings as she went, landing on the furniture scattered around the edges of the room. It took little more than a second for thin strands of smoke to start appearing.
"Okay, so… There's a huge puddle of metal in the common room that we don't know how to cool down. Hermione's bird is on fire, doesn't seem to care, and is actively trying to set her on fire. In about thirty seconds, the common room is going to be more on fire than the Potions room was, and that was a lot of fire. We've robbed all of our roommates, created a lake of doom that Ron's probably going to die in and I know a spell I'll probably use to do more things like this in the future," Harry summarized. "Did I miss anything?"
"Well, Fred and George are probably gonna be pretty upset we burned down another room and didn't let them help," Neville added.
"So, basically, you're saying there's no salvaging the situation," Hermione summarized the summary, walking up to them. "Good."
Harry and Neville stared at one, they turned their gazes upward towards Headwig.
"What? She got all the metal off."
The owl now looked like it was wearing heavy armor. Pewter had hardened on her chest, forming a breastplate that logically had no right to sport a feathery pattern. More metal had hardened across the bird's wings, turning them into vicious blades. The material had dripped over her head, outfitting her with a crested helmet that looked very much like the sort of thing a commander would wear. The intense magical flames had altered the pewter, giving it a blackened color with extremely fine cracks in it. The dark metal had a glassy look, shining in the light of the molten pool.
The tiny bird looked like something you'd find sitting on a throne made of skulls.
"What?" Hermione asked self-consciously. "Why are you looking at me?"
"We're not," they replied together.
She shook her head in confusion. "You two can be so weird sometimes… Anyway, it's kind of good everything's on fire," she announced, gesturing towards the small flames that were already appearing. "Now we don't have to waste our time trying to fix it, and now we can do something more productive."
'What… kind of productive?" Neville inquired suspiciously.
"Wake up Angel and Orchid. I'll explain on the way."
"I told you this was a bad idea!" Neville screamed, hoofing it down the hall as fast as his legs could carry him. Given the situation, that was pretty damn fast.
"You did!" Hermione screamed back. "You were right!"
"That was awesome!" Harry crowed.
Behind them, a tidal wave of molten rock gushed out of an unused classroom. The glowing rock poured down the hall, hot (in a very literal sense) on the heels of a madly-giggling Angel.
"It's like tag!" she cheered. "Like tag with a dragon!"
"Did the room really have to be full, Hermione!?" Neville demanded.
"Hey, they just kept bringing more rocks!" the witch protested. "What was I supposed to do, say no to them?"
"Yes!" Neville screamed.
"Uh, guys… I don't think this was the right way to go," Harry announced, pointing ahead of them. "It's a dead end or stairs, and I'm pretty sure the wave of bone-melting goes down stairs a lot faster than we do!"
Neville stared at the flight of stairs they were approaching. "Oh, shi-"
Thin branches exploded out of his clothing launching him into the air. Suddenly he couldn't even tell which way was up. Whirling, snapping plant matter cracked across the floor and walls, sending him tumbling down the hall far faster than he was comfortable with. Just when he was certain he'd rainbow, the ride came to an abrupt end. He was spun neatly to his feet, the branches surrounding him retracting. Orchid formed behind him, arms wrapped protectively around his neck.
"O~h, that was fun!" Angel announced as she set Harry on his feet. "We should do that again!"
"Well, we should probably plan a little better in the future. Set up some kind of barrier to give ourselves somewhere to run," Hermione pointed out. Her feet were dangling a foot off the ground. Headwig had the back of her robes in hand (talon?), and was supporting the witch's full weight with little difficulty. Something about the altered aerodynamics of her wings produced a deep thrumming sound, making her sound like a tiny Blackhawk.
"Okay, I'm calling bullshit," Harry declared. "I don't care if she's a magic owl, there's no vascoing way!"
"You're just jealous that you don't have pretty magic owl," Hermione accused stiffly.
"Uh, Hermione? I have a cat that can be a person that cuts metal with her fingernails," Harry pointed out. "And she's pretty. In both forms."
"Aw, you're so sweet, My Boy!" Angel cried. She grabbed him in a hug from behind and buried her face in the side of his neck.
"Gah! Don't do that! It t-" was as far as he got before breaking down into giggles and laughter.
"Right. We've flooded the north stairwell with molten stone," Hermione declared. O(wl)verlord Headwig set her lightly on her feet and took up residence on a shoulder. "Mission accomplished. Good work, men."
The Owlverlord hooted approvingly.
"That was our mission?" Neville inquired skeptically. "Because I was pretty sure you and Harry just wanted to melt a bunch of rocks."
"In honor of humanity's long relationship with revisionist history, it was our mission as of now. And we completed it. It was a job well done."
"Right. Whatever. Can we go get five minutes of sleep now? I think I'm starting to see things that aren't there," Neville complained.
Hermione looked up at Orchid, then back down at Neville. "And that's a new thing?"
"It is when I'm not-"
Neville paused as as strange noise filled the Great Hall. Even Angel stopped tormenting her master as it became more apparent. It was a deep, continuous crashing noise, as if a herd of elephants was running through the school. It went on and on, getting louder and louder.
"So, anyone think this is a good thing?" Harry asked.
"..."
"Yeah, that's what I thought."
An enormous geyser of water erupted out into the Great Hall, quickly turning it into a shallow pool. The molten stone spat and hissed behind them. A moment later, Ri and Ru came into view. Each was riding a chunk of wood through the raging white watters with a wide grin. Following just behind them was Snow, a look that was half insanely thrilled and half pure terror etched on her face. The trio rode the wave as it slammed into the Great Stairs' landing.
Her expression quickly turned to pure horror the impact ejected her from her vehicle. She managed one surprised cry before plunging into the torrent. A series of sharp crackles filled the hall as heat was forcibly yanked from the water. Lady just barely managed to eject herself in time, sloshing to a stop atop the staff table. Quickly reforming, she caught the foxes - boards and all - before they hit the floor.
Hermione surveyed the carnage.
Aside from the clear area they stood in - the fortunate result of the hot stone just behind them - the entire hall was buried under three inches of frozen water. The staff table had been completely engulfed in something that strongly resembled a sea urchin made of ice. A massive boulder of the stuff completely surrounded the dais. It was tall enough to reach the Grand Staircase's landing and wide enough to completely fill the space between the staircases curving around the table. Crazed spikes frozen spikes jutted out at random angles, their edges and sides shining ominously in the low light.
The trio carefully crossed the frozen hall, sliding to a stop near the staff table. Well, more accurately, they slid to a very abrupt stop against the stairs leading to the staff table. The foxes launched forward and boarded Harry as soon as he was in range. Lady remained on the table, fearfully staring down at the ice.
Snow looked at them helplessly from within the unintentional ice sculpture, mouthing the words, "I'm stuck."
"Harry, please extract the naked girl," Hermione sighed.
"Uh… how exactly am I supposed to do that?" he asked with a frown.
"Fire, obviously," Hermione answered, rolling her eyes.
"But won't that hurt her?"
"She's a yuki-onna, Harry. Just nail her as hard as you can. Don't worry about hurting her. Trust me, she'll love it."
Hard?
Hermione released a rainbow onto the improvised ice sculpture as her brain tried to process the comment. It immediately exploded outward, forming a frozen technicolor tree. Harry and Neville turned beet-red, while Angel just scolded, "Dirty Flower…"
"If you're sure…" Harry agreed hesitantly. He carefully crossed the ice until he was directly in front of Snow. The tip of his wand traced two swirling symbols. "Ast Ut Nihil."
A faint, red glow appeared on the tip of his wand. The wizard stood and fixed it with an intense look of concentration. The light slowly became brighter and more more opaque.
"How hot does it need to be?" he asked nervously.
"She's a snow woman, Harry," Hermione sighed. "She eats heat like Headwig eats bacon. Torch her."
"Okay… If you're sure…" he agreed uncertainly. Staring at Snow, he lamented, "Uh… If I burn you off the face of the Earth, I'm really sorry…"
The point of light on his wand slowly faded from red to orange over the course of several seconds. The air around it began rippling and shifting. The light continued to change, shifting from orange to yellow. The change became slower and slower as it went. In the end, over a minute and a half later, it settled on a lovely lemon shade.
Snow's eyes slowly widened as she stared at the spark. Harry glanced to the side just in time to miss her eagerly licking her lips.
"Uh, Hermione? I don't think I can hold it in any more."
"Then let her have it Harry," Hermione insisted. "Unload it right in her face."
Harry closed his eyes, turned his head away and released the spell. There was a massive explosion of something like freezing-cold steam. Fine particles of ice blasted the trio, caking them with a thin, frozen crust.
An extremely loud cry came from within the frozen lump. Something about it strongly suggested that it had nothing to do with pain. A ripple passed through the ice with a sharp crack, painting the previously transparent structure a blinding shade of white.
A small cavern had been carved out of the ice, leaving a panting Snow laying on the floor.
"Uh… I didn't hurt her, did I?"
Angel awkwardly slid up behind him and gave him a reassuring rub on the head. "No, My Boy. She's just… a little tired. And you don't say a word, Dirty Flower."
Hermione sighed and glared at the foxes. "So, who's brilliant idea was it to take the yuki-onna surfing? Do you have any idea what she could have done to Lady?"
The familiars looked at each other, then looked up at Angel.
"They say that she made them do it. She threatened to hug them if they didn't," Angel helpfully translated. "They didn't want to be fox popsicles. Fopsicles? Foxicles? It doesn't translate very well..."
"Right. I have a very hard time believing you're not responsible. I'll have you know we just buried the north entrance in melted rock, so we're not really in a position to judge you," Hermione pointed out, gesturing to the still-glowing stone.
The fox twins stared at the mess with obviously impressed looks on their faces. Again, they turned to look at Angel.
"They said they were bored, their wizards were asleep and they thought flooding all the staircases and freezing the water would make a bitchin' slide."
"Wait, 'All the stairs,' you said? What do you mean all the stairs?" Hermione demanded.
"They got Lady to drag all the water she could inhabit to the top of the Astronomy Tower," Angel informed her. "The entire Grand Stair should be one big sheet of ice."
"They're right. That would make a bitchin' slide…" Neville agreed enthusiastically.
"...exactly how were you planning to get back up there?" Hermione asked with a sigh. "It's pretty hard to climb a sheet of ice, isn't it?"
The twins exchanged a horrified look.
"They hadn't thought of that."
"Yes, I figured," Hermione groaned. "You should at least- Harry?"
The wizard had wandered over to the small cavern in the ice and was now standing over her, looking down at her curiously. "Um… hi. This probably isn't the best time to ask, but could you do me a little favor?" he asked hopefully.
The familiar turned to gaze up at him with a strange look in her eye. "Anything…" she gasped softly.
"Uh… right."
Ast ut nihil - "Burn to nothing"
Maybe. Actually, probably not. But it might be close...ish. Don't blame me if it's not, blame the completely random and probably unreliable translation site I'm using. For all I know it means, "You're mother's a donkey." It's not any worse than canon's pseudo-latin crap, either way.
You'll probably see more of these notes in the future. I'd say I'll try to keep the new spells to a minimum but, honestly, that's probably a lie. I basically write whatever pops into my head, so any promises I make here are meaningless. There's even a slight possibility that there may be a chapter that's nothing but new spells. LIterally, just 8000 words of new spells.
Why're some people so hung up on that, anyway? I've hit the storyline with a sledgehammer, altered the personalities of more characters than I haven't, added a shit-ton of OCs and completely changed Hogwarts itself.. There is literally no point in worrying about adding new spells a this juncture.
Oh, right. See below for the details on that last one. Or don't. You could always go have a bowl of ice cream instead. Actually, I recommend the ice cream. It probably tastes better, unless you splatter a lot of food on your monitor. But if that's the case, licking it might land you in the ER.
A/N:
This was originally really fucking long. I've decided to summarize it in the sake of expediency.
Characters unusually capable because tough childhood and lots of study time. Supportive relationships early on help. First-years have each other and surrogate big brothers. Twins have someone looking up to them, someone that likes them other than King. Also, as seen previously, familiars affect their masters. Some more than others.
I just summarized - I shit you not - a full page of author's notes. You're welcome.
Also thought I'd note that this Hogwarts is very different in structure than cannon. I never liked that setup. For a castle built during a time of violent turmoil in both worlds, it was horrifically inefficient and indefensible. Considering it houses the population's children and collected knowledge, that's inexcusable.
You can cry "magic" if you want, and that's fine. But if both sides have magic, he with the thicker walls wins.
So, Hogwarts is a more traditional medieval fort. Four long, connected buildings surround an inner ward, creating a hollow square. A large break in the east building the the primary entrance to the grounds, and the Great Hall is opposite it.
The staff table is at the back of the hall, with twin staircases curving around it to a landing. It's from this landing the Astronomy Tower and Grand Staircase are accessed.
I do this because I like it better this way and it helps certain bits of the story work better. There's also the fact that the many maps I've seen don't look like they'd fit the (admittedly inconsistent) numbers Rowling has said were there, let alone the theoretically larger numbers in the past. My highschool was bigger than some of them, for the love of god. Considering that the wizarding population - for reasons that do exist and will be addressed later - is much larger in this world, that doesn't fly.
Mainly because I like it better, though. Grand, impressive castles are cool, but hulking death-forts are cooler. I'd say I'm sorry if this upsets you, but I'd be lying. If a ameture writer changing a fictional castle is all it takes to make you sad, someone would have done it sooner rather than later.
It may as well be me.
Actually, I'd prefer it was me. Every tear I make someone shed adds a day to my life. I'm pretty set since I dumped a quarter-ton of fresh, shredded onions on that orphanage, but another day here and there never hurts.
Next chapter we see how a leather fetish can help with everyday life, why verifying the facts isn't always good and the importance of keeping your underwear where it belongs.