I Was Born a Fool and I'll Die a Fool for You

by WastelandRose

"You're bloody ridiculous. You do know that, right?" "Yes. And thank you for using 'ridiculous' instead of 'insane.' It's a narrow distinction that not many people bother to get correct." Fred/OC

26. Bad Blood

Part 26 - Bad Blood

September 1st was hectic. Trying to get that many people fed and packed and ready to leave all at the same time took a great deal of patience, especially with Fred and George insisting on flinging the trunks around with magic, with Dad clinging to me like I was going to war instead of just school.

Grimmauld Place was within a mile of King's Cross, so we ended up walking, under guard of course, and were nearly late. There was barely time to say our goodbyes to the entourage before we had to go sprinting after the Hogwarts Express.

And then there was that extremely awkward moment when I usually would've wandered off with Fred and George to make some trouble but instead had to go to the freaking prefects' compartment and lead the whole freaking meeting.

I pouted at the twins, smacking them both lightly when they laughed at my expression. "Bastards," I complained, allowing myself to be pulled into hugs, "Is it too late for me to back out of this nonsense?"

"Yup," Fred chirped.

With a sinister waggle of his ginger eyebrows, George added, "We've already got some big plans about how to abuse your office for our own dastardly designs."

"At least there's that silver lining," I sighed. I hugged them both again, promising, "I'll come find you as soon as the meeting is through. Don't have too much fun without me."

"Not even possible," said Fred, kissing me soundly.

"Maybe I'll just get started on that book of yours," said George.

I snickered. As soon as George revealed his Animagus form as a raven, I knew that he had to read "the Raven." Both twins were surprisingly literate, and I thought he would really get a kick out of it. (I had already resigned myself to hearing "nevermore" from him in great excess for the next month or so.)

Fred leaned in and murmured, "We'll keep an eye out for Cho."

Hermione tugged on my arm, her curls bouncing as the rest of her practically vibrated with excitement.

Rolling my eyes so that she couldn't see, I chimed, "Alright, alright. One minute, Hermione. It's not like they can start without me."

"Go on, Stel," Fred chuckled, giving me one more reassuring squeeze, "Seize your throne and rule with an iron fist!"

"And take this," whispered George, winking as he pressed a small homemade firework into my palm, "In case you need a distraction."

With that, they romped off, presumably to harass the poor trolley lady, which was something of a tradition for them.

Ron and I shared miserable glances as we followed in Hermione's overeager wake toward the front of the train. "So," the boy finally murmured, "What prank are you and the twins playing at the welcoming feast?"

Grinning wickedly, I replied, "I don't know what you mean."

"Come on," he complained, gangly and almost as tall as I was, "You three have been whispering and giggling over something ever since we first got to Grimmauld. And it's your last year. I know you're planning something."

"Silly tricks would be quite unsuitable for a person of my office," I laughed. I ruffled his hair and soothed, "Don't you worry your pretty little head."

Ron rolled his eyes and declared, "It's not like I'm going to try to stop you or turn you in. I just want to know when to duck."

Truthfully, I declared, "Rest assured, I have no knowledge of any required ducking."

We arrived in the prefects' compartment, the last to do so. A slight hush fell over the crowd. Eyes fell to my chest and, unlike usual, I got quite a few frowns.

"Oh," I said, quickly figuring out the problem, fishing my badge out of my jean pocket and pinning it to the front of my stylish blue blouse. "Hello," I chirped, waving coyly, "My name is Stella Black, and I'm the Head Girl."

Blank looks all around.

Finally, Adrian Pucey (the Head Boy) stood, black hair slicked back from his harsh angular features. "Seriously?" he shrieked, probably in the midst of a small breakdown.

"Yes," I beamed, pointing to the shiny new badge. He may have been a prick, but I was determined to be nothing but sweet and cheerful to everyone... unless provoked, of course.

Irate, he tugged anxiously at his trousers (probably remember being kicked in the goodies (twice) by yours truly) and snarled, "Who'd you sleep with to pull that off?"

With nothing but a spiteful thought, I picked him up and slammed his head against the ceiling. It was definitely a new and unexpected trick for me, but it had the desired effect: Pucey fell to the floor unconscious, and everyone else stared at me in horror.

I grinned, still going for bright and jolly but, in the wake of that little display, probably only pulling off deranged. Well, whatever worked.

"Alright," I declared, clapping my hands together sharply and making everyone jump, "Any other questions before we begin?"

No one moved. I'd be surprised if anyone even breathed.

But my smile only got wider. "Excellent," I declared, "Then let's get right down to business..."

xxXxx

That prefect meeting was probably the shortest in the history of all prefect meetings. I thoroughly terrified two dozen of Hogwarts's best and brightest. Even Pucey, after he finally woke, didn't utter a single word.

I left in a rather good mood, humming and smiling, introducing myself to any first years I came across (they always were fairly easy to identify). As scared as the older kids were, the younger ones proved equally enamored with me. The little girls and little boys alike latched on like ducklings, and by the time I found the twins, I still had a handful trailing along dutifully.

"Going to introduce us to your friends, love?" Fred laughed when I entered the compartment and plopped down into his lap.

After a quick kiss, I beckoned the kiddies inside and declared, "This is Larkin Shaw-" a wide-eyed, weedy brunette boy in a Ramones t-shirt, "Bryony Dunstan-" the sweetest little blonde pixie with cheeks like a chipmunk's, "Tabitha Lively-" a tall, slim, black-haired girl, "Delmar Gray-" a shy, freckly child who I'd already rightfully pegged as a Hufflepuff, "and Miguel Villa-" a dark skinned boy with shrewd black eyes and a quirky, charming grin.

"Guys," I told the assorted munchkins, "This is my boyfriend Fred Weasley, his brother George, and over there by the window is Lee Jordan.

"Hello," Bryony chimed pleasantly, dimples erupting in both round cheeks, "It's nice to meet you."

"You as well, little one," George cooed, kissing the back of the girl's dainty hand.

She giggled and blushed.

While the first years were getting themselves situated, I dug into Fred's pocket and checked his watch and discovered that we still had several hours before reaching our destination. Though I would've loved nothing more than to not move a muscle, I still had to find Cho. With a groan, I fought my way back to my feet.

"Play nicely, boys and girls," I declared, "I'll be back soon."

By that point, the kids had found Marigold lazing in a sunbeam and were distracted by her awesome cuddliness. The twins were showing off a few WWW products and already trying to recruit testers.

Deciding to kill two birds with one stone, I took my uniform along with me, changed quickly, and then got down to the search. Actually finding the girl was quite an ordeal, and I came across Harry, Ginny, Neville, a strange Ravenclaw named Luna Lovegood, and two of Cedric's Hufflepuff friends, Joshua Lerner and Matthew Summerby. I even saw the then-second-year Slytherin boy who I'd rescued from the top of the boar statue at the end of the last year, Quentin Raeburn. He was very happy that I was there and that I was the Head Girl, insisting on dragging me halfway down the train to introduce me to his best friend, Ravenclaw Stewart Ackerley. Stewart was a slim, mousey boy with huge glasses and almost feminine features and a tendency to talk very, very quickly and gesture wildly when he got excited.

Even though I really enjoyed chatting with those individuals and many others, after nearly an hour of searching, I still had no sign of Cho.

And then a sixth-year Gryffindor prefect approached cautiously. Her name was Wendy Hawthorn, and she used to be one of my roommates, used to be a pudgy little brunette A-cup with bad teeth and acne and a healthy fear of me. By then, however, she had grown a few inches, lost a little weight and a lot of pimples. And although she was still obviously afraid that I would devour her soul, she barely trembled at all as she stated, "Um, there's a student who's locked herself in the engine compartment. She won't come out."

"Thanks for letting me know," I said with a big, syrupy sweet smile, turning and marching back toward the front of the train.

Wendy followed nervously, chewing on her plump bottom lip. She kept opening her mouth like she wanted to talk but then shutting it again.

Finally, I chirped, "Something on your mind, Hawthorn?"

She shook her head frantically.

The door to the engine compartment was, indeed, locked from the inside. I knocked, calling, "Hello? Who's in there?" I received no answer, so I magicked it open and stepped inside.

Cho was sitting on a tall crate and hugging her skinny knees to her still flat midsection.

I slammed the door in Wendy's face. "Are you alright?" I inquired.

Eyes puffy and bloodshot, face ghostly white, Cho nodded."Sorry," she sighed, "I just... everyone was... staring. Whispering. I couldn't take it."

"No worries," I declared, putting a comforting arm around her slight shoulders, "I definitely know how obnoxious that kind of thing can get... do you want to come sit with the twins and me? They're very good at scaring away gawkers."

She shook her head, murmuring, "Maybe later. I'm actually quite comfortable here on my own." The low chug of the engine was rather soothing, the room warm but not unpleasantly so.

"Alrighty," I agreed, "Just make sure to come find me if you need anything... and you should stop by my suite tomorrow night. I finally got my hands on a real blood test kit, so we can try that out."

"Joy," Cho deadpanned.

With a laugh, I went for the door and declared, "Love the enthusiasm, babe! Oh, and if anyone gives you any problems about sitting in here, just tell them that I said it was ok."

Staring out the big front windows, she chuckled, "I'm not sure if you're going to be the best Head Girl ever or the worst."

Brightly, I agreed, "You and me both, sweetheart."

xxXxx

The remainder of the ride was relatively uneventful. Mostly, the twins and I regaled our ever-increasing flock of pint-sized admirers with tales of hijinks of yore, but there were a few issues that the prefects brought to me to solve: a fistfight between two third-year Ravenclaws who had discovered they were sharing a girlfriend, a fifth-year Hufflepuff who knocked herself out walking into a closed door, and several distraught first-years who ended up squeezing in with my group until the train stopped.

"First years to the boats!" I called over the sounds of chaos on the platform, "Leave your trunks! They'll be taken care of! All first years should proceed to the boat launch area in an orderly fashion! If your fashion is not orderly, then you'd better damn well be tapdancing!"

Seizing my hand and stealing a quick kiss, Fred flashed a grin and whispered, "George and I are going up through the Honeydukes passage to put everything in place. Save us a seat, love."

"Of course," I replied with a wicked smirk, "Don't be late. You'll miss my speech."

"Wouldn't dream of it," the redhead laughed, disappearing into the crowd.

I smiled and got back to my duties, bellowing, "First years, you are riding in the boats! And you! Munchkin! Stop right there!"

A chubby boy with frizzy blonde hair and slightly gapped front teeth froze with a handful of chocoballs halfway to his mouth. "What?" he squeaked.

They were so cute when they squeaked.

"Don't spoil your appetite," I answered with a warm smile and quick wink, "You'll thank me later."

He just stared, confused but unafraid.

Arching a thin eyebrow at the boy, I inquired, "What's your name, cutie pie?"

"Orlando," he answered meekly, chocoballs melting all over his grubby fingers, "Orlando Palladino."

"Well," I replied, "I'm Stella Black, and I'm the Head Girl. It's very nice to meet you. The boats are just right over there. Can't miss 'em." I would've said that you can't miss the huge man running them, but I hadn't spotted Hagrid yet; his was a conspicuous absence.

Orlando nodded and scampered along to join the rest of his class.

Anyways, I directed traffic like that for awhile before finally wandering toward the carriages, waving to Harry. He seemed distracted by the thestrals, as most people seeing them for the first time often are. He'd watched Cedric die, and the thought alone threatened to bring me to tears.

It seemed like Luna was taking care of the explanation though, so I hopped on board with Quentin and Stewart and a second-year Slytherin girl named Jana Cadwallader whose older brother Emil was a Hufflepuff in my rightful year.

Jana seemed sweet, and I was happy that Quentin seemed to be making friends. He was sort of the Slytherin black sheep after his pure-bloodmother had remarried a muggle-born and given him a half-blood baby brother. But having the twins and me to back him up had at least kept him from getting beaten on anymore.

The ride seemed like seconds; my traveling companions and I split up to our respective tables. I chose a mostly empty stretch close to the front of the room, figuring that I would need space for the twins and any new Gryffindors we might feel the urge to snag and befriend.

Fred and George didn't take too long getting everything situated, arriving from the kitchen with grins that had half the Hall looking nervous. They sat on either side of me, Fred throwing an arm around my shoulders and whispering, "All set, love."

I grinned back and giggled manically.

Ron kept giving us dirty looks from down the table, twitching at every loud noise.

The Sorting began with the Hat spouting off a new, kind of ominous yet touching song about how even though they were split into houses, everyone should do their best to unite as a school. Since that was kind of my plan for the year, I rather liked the little ditty.

We got nine new Gryffindors, all of whom sat with the twins and me. They were still nervous but warmed up quickly, proved themselves to be a pretty bright and rowdy bunch. Bryony Dunstan from the train was among their numbers, and it turned out that I'd met her older brother, Mason Dunstan, during my little field trip to St. Mungo's. There was also Euan Abercrombie, Christopher Ingram (Topher, he insisted), Mirinda Jarvi, Simone King (whose older sister, Davina, was a second-year Gryffindor and joined us around dessert), Timothy (Timmy) McNamara, Annemarie Rowe, Jeremiah (Jerry) Tao, and Dashiell (Dash) Wickham.

Larkin Shaw and Orlando Palladino both ended up in Slytherin (which I wouldn't have called in a million years), Tabitha Lively and Delmar Gray in Hufflepuff, and Miguel Villa in Ravenclaw. I made sure to wave to them and a few others I'd chatted with as they took their seats.

All in all, it was a good meal. But it didn't get really interesting until it was already over.

Dumbledore stood and began his speech, announcing some normal, boring things, as well as the fact that Professor Grubbly-Plank would be taking over CoMC for an undisclosed amount of time and that we were welcoming yet another new Defense teacher, Professor Umbridge.

That would've usually been the point at which the twins and I laid odds on how she would go out: canned, killed, driven crazy, revealed to be a servant of the Dark Lord, etc. But this Umbridge woman actually had the nerve to stand and interrupt the headmaster with a rude little hem, hem cough and a speech of her own.

It was utter bullshit, ridiculous bureaucratic doubletalk, and I surely would've been lulled to sleep in minutes if not for the annoyingly high pitch of her little-girl voice and how absurdly it clashed with her toad-like body and atrocious fashion sense. She went on and on with this long-winded diatribe about Ministry policies and education, reform and tradition or some such paradoxical nonsense. The twins and I shared eye rolls and yawns all throughout.

When she was finally done, I saw my moment.

"Alright!" I shouted, heavy on the sarcasm as I clapped and stood and climbed up on the table and spun to address the room, "Let's hear it for Professor Umbridge, everybody! Welcome to Hogwarts!"

Playing along as I could always depend on them to do, the twins cheered and whistled, and soon we even earned a bit more sparse, kind of confused applause from around the room.

"Anyways," I continued, "Hi! As most of you may know and some of you may not, my name is Stella Black, and I'm the Head Girl this year."

I gave it a moment to sink in, smirking as the stares and whispers got exponentially more confused, some downright worried. Finally, I continued, "I'm always available to answer questions and solve problems, and I highly encourage anyone having issues with either professors or fellow students to bring their concerns directly to me. Bullying and bigotry will not be tolerated and will be dealt with swiftly. If you're unclear about what that means, feel free to speak with me after dinner for a one-on-one demonstration of the result of violating my policy."

"Miss Black-" Dumbledore began warningly, probably already regretting my appointment. Well, too late.

"Oh, right," I chirped, smiling brilliantly and snapping my fingers. Flyers that the twins had so graciously arranged began to fall from the ceiling as I went on, "I'll be giving tours of the castle all day tomorrow, and you can find the times and meeting places printed on those sheets. Mostly this is for you first years, so that you can find your way around more easily, but everyone is welcome, and there will be refreshments. I look forward to a great year, and now I'll turn the floor over to my partner in crime, Head Boy Adrian Pucey."

The twins, the trio, Ginny, and a few others clapped and cheered for me as I sat down, as attention gradually shifted to a very shell-shocked Pucey, to whom I'd given absolutely no warning of our speeches. He stood awkwardly but didn't climb onto the table, instead just looking around the room for a few blank moments before coughing and declaring, "Um, hi. Ya. I'm... Adrian. Pucey... I... don't really have anything to add."

And then he sat down again.

He only got a smattering of applause, basically just me and a few Slytherins.

At the front of the room, most of the professors were trying not to laugh. In fact, pretty much the only exceptions to the general trend of hastily stifled giggles were Snape and Umbridge, both of whom looked irate and scandalized.

Dumbledore was a bit aggravated but mostly amused. He kneaded his temples and eventually sighed, "Thank you, Miss Black, Mr. Pucey... as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held..."

He went on for awhile longer and then finally dismissed the group. Snickering evilly, the twins and I skipped off to locate my suite. As we passed Ron, he frowned quizzically at us, undoubtedly concerned with the lack of prank.

I winked at him, and he got all flustered, got yanked back to the firstie herding by Hermione.

xxXxx

"I swear," George cackled as we strode along a long hallway, "You should've seen Umbridge's face. She turned at least three separate shades of purple."

Laughing into his brother's delightfully muscular shoulder, I answered, "After the speech she gave, the hag should just count herself lucky that all I did was jump on a table and get people to cheer for her. Besides, she's the Ministry stooge that Dumbledore was so worried about."

"I can see why," muttered Fred. He rested his cheek on the top of my head and added, "You were smashing, love."

With a smile, I hummed, "Why thank you. The flyer-drop worked perfectly. You two are masters of your art."

"Such flattery," George chuckled, "We'd best keep an eye on that. Stella could end up turning into a politician right before our very eyes."

Swiping at him playfully, I argued, "It would serve you right. After all, I'd already be a small business co-owner if you two would quit being so bloody noble."

"Oh, not this again," George crowed, "We only took Harry's Triwizard winnings because he threatened to flush them otherwise."

"And besides," Fred contributed sweetly, "We already consider you a co-owner. You've helped us with most of the products and thought up the rest yourself, so there's no reason to buy your way in."

I huffed, trying and failing to hide my smile against his chest. "Should've told me that before I spent all summer complaining," I muttered, feeling my cheeks turn a bit pink.

With a laugh, Fred answered, "Well, we thought you knew. And anyways, we're set for funding at the moment."

George sniggered, "Especially if we keep buying our illegal ingredients from Dung. He's so terrified of you that he hasn't charged full price for anything since he almost let Harry get eaten by dementors."

That was about the time that we arrived at the suite entrance, the hallway opening up into a wide, round indoor courtyard. The room was huge, with big windows that looked out over the lake. There were no portraits on the walls, but rather a statue at the very center: a black marble tree whose branches stretched up and almost touched the high domed ceiling on all sides.

We'd come across the strange statue a few times before, found it in full black foliage and blooms like it was that day; we'd also found it bare in the winter, covered in delicate buds in the spring, and surrounded by piles of detached black leaves in the fall. None of us had realized that it was actually the entrance to the Heads' quarters.

"Wicked," said George, peering up into the bushy canopy and jumping to swing by both arms from a low branch, "Once I figure out how to fly, I can sit up in your tree and divebomb intruders."

Laughing, I argued, "Georgie, I just got finished telling people that they could come to me with anything. How's it going to look if I have a raven attacking them when they try?"

"Good point," he hummed, rather disappointed. He'd been really looking forward to divebombing. Of course, he would have to learn to actually fly first, and every attempt so far had ended in some sort of bodily injury. The young man flipped over and hooked his knees on the branch, letting himself hang upside-down as his shirt slid past his hairy armpits.

Knocking on the thick trunk, Fred inquired, "What now?"

Unfurling the small scroll that had been handed off to me by McGonogall after dinner, I read, "Dear Miss Black, Let me congratulate you- blah blah blah... great responsibility- blah blah blah... oh, ok. The entrance is located in the enchanted Tree of Knowledge statue on the fourth floor. Your badge acts as a key..." I continued to skim and couldn't find any more useful information. With a puzzled frown, I tucked the note away and took off my badge. I waved it at the tree, tapped it against the tree, even politely requested, "Badge, open my tree, please."

Nothing.

"Stel," Fred finally laughed, standing around the far side and waving me over. At about shoulder height here was a carving of the school's crest, an exact relief of my badge, minus the HG.

Feeling like the dorkiest dork who had ever dorked, I pressed my badge into the indentation and watched as a seamless panel slid open to reveal a marble staircase spiraling right down through the floor. It kind of looked like a series of conveniently shaped roots, pretty and ornate in a natural, unintentional sort of way.

The narrow steps led into the center of a rather cozy round common room. Already inspecting my new residence as I traveled down the last few twists, I noted a hearth surrounded by a squashy black sofa and chairs and a shaggy sheepskin rug, a workspace with a table and some bookshelves set up by the wide, lake-view windows, and, lastly, two very short sets of steps that led up to two different ledges and closed bedrooms doors. Mine had a Gryffindor crest on the outside, and Pucey's had a Slytherin crest.

"Sweet setup," George remarked with a short, impressed whistle. Instead of waiting for his brother and me to move out of his way, the redhead jumped from the spot where the staircase emerged from the ceiling (a good ten or so meters off the ground), vaulting over the thin railing and flopping onto the sofa.

"Don't break anything," I scolded, swatting his leg as Fred and I fell into one of the very comfortable chairs, "At least not the first day."

George nodded, folded his hands behind his head and agreed, "True. We've got all year to get up to no good in here. It'd be a shame to wreck the place up so soon... you think there's snacks?"

Almost before he was through asking, a sharp POP startled the hell out of me as a cute little grayish-purple house-elf appeared in the center of the sheepskin rug. "Hello, Miss Stella Black and Miss Stella Black's friends," the creature chirped adorably, eyes huge and smile wide, nose long and slim and somewhat Pinocchio-esque, "I am very!"

We all blinked at it (her?). Finally, I questioned, "You're very what?"

She cocked her head, still smiling brilliantly and chiming, "I am very!"

A little quicker than the rest of us that night, George carefully inquired, "Your name is Verry?"

"The hungry one is so wise!" Verry gushed, bowing so low that the tip of her nose touched the tip of her toes. Her little Hogwarts-crest emblazoned tea-towel was impeccably neat, but she smoothed it down anyways as she stood again, asking, "What can Verry bring to feed the friends of Miss Stella Black?"

George was still a bit bewildered, stumbling, "Er... um... how about... popcorn and butterbeer? Please?"

"Right away, sir!" the house-elf replied, vanishing with another POP.

"That's going to take some getting used to," I chuckled.

"Are you kidding?" George beamed, "You have your own house-elf! An actually good one instead of that creepy little freak Kreacher! This is going to be awesome!"

Verry reappeared with a large tray that held a massive bowl of popcorn and four butterbeers. The fourth drink was slightly confusing, but then I heard the tree-trunk door opening and someone walking down the stairs.

"Hi, Adrian," I chirped as he emerged, "Verry here was good enough to bring a snack. Fancy having a butterbeer with us?"

He shot me an extremely unfriendly glare and stomped straight into his room, slamming the door loudly behind himself.

Verry's pointed ears wilted, her bottom lip quivered, and the poor little creature burst into tears.

xxXxx

After comforting the distraught house-elf (assuring her that Pucey was mad at me and not her, that, yes, she was excellently servile and all a Head could ask for, that she could stop slamming her head against the floor, pretty please) and arranging for her to arrange the refreshments I would need for my tours, there was only one item left on the agenda for that night.

"Stel," Fred laughed, blindfolded as I dragged him up a long staircase, "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," I giggled. It was a struggle to remain relatively quiet, but I didn't want to be caught. Clutching the broom George had loaned me, I finally reached the top of the tower and instructed, "Ok, you have to get on the broom."

"Flying somewhere, eh?" Fred mused, carefully straddling the handle and wrapping his arms tight around my waist, "So, not in the castle?"

Elbowing him lightly when he nipped at my neck, I scolded, "No hints. And cut that out. I have to concentrate, or we're going to end up falling. You know I'm not that good at flying."

Fred responded by slipping both his hands up the front of my shirt. Sneaky bastard always did have a bit of a death wish.

It was a wobbly ride but a short one, pretty much just up and over (usually I would've just climbed, but that would've been tricky with the tie tied over Fred's eyes), and then we were touching down on the roof. "Ok," I said, a little breathless as my boyfriend continued with his very distracting caresses, "You can look now."

"I dunno," he chuckled against my shoulder, "Kinda kinky like this."

"Fred," I whined, reaching back and undoing the knot on the blindfold, "I don't interfere with your surprises."

With a theatrical sigh, he responded, "Well, my surprises typically involve a lot more nudity."

I elbowed him and laughed, instructing, "Just look, you pervert."

His front was pressed tight against my back as he blinked out at our surroundings. I felt him tense up as he observed, "The roof of the Astronomy Tower."

"Our first kiss," I declared, turning in his embrace to find the redhead frowning. "What is it?" I asked, kind of let down by the reaction. It was supposed to be stunningly romantic and lead to a great deal of heated snogging. (Fred wasn't the only one who enjoyed surprises involving nudity.)

"Nothing," he mumbled, pouting at his feet.

I rolled my eyes and burrowed into his chest, chiming, "What's on your mind, Frankenstein?"

Fred kissed the top of my head, wrapped his arms around me and just swayed us for a few moments. "Our first kiss was amazing," he finally admitted, squeezing me tight, "Second one, too. I just... afterward, I acted like an idiot, and you were mad at me until after Christmas."

Yes, I did remember that. Fred was embarrassed that he liked me, and I ended up overhearing him tell his brother that he thought I was ugly and annoying. I didn't talk to either twin until we got back from break. "I know you didn't mean it," I soothed, "You were, what? Thirteen? Thirteen-year-old boys are supposed to act like idiots around girls they like. I only really think of the good parts of what happened. I mean, I was crying before, and afterward, you were an arse, but in between... well, it was pretty nice."

"We can agree on that at least," Fred laughed, "But I'm still sorry I ever hurt you."

"Nobody's perfect, Freddie," I said with a smirk, "And I love you just the way you are, idiot moments and all." Before he could answer, I went on tiptoes and otherwise occupied his lovely mouth.

xxXxx

I didn't expect too many people to show for the 7 AM tour, but I actually did end up with quite the little crowd standing sleepily at the entrance to the Great Hall. Most were frightened first years, but there were a few older kids. Quentin, Stewart, and Jana all came, as did another Slytherin girl, a pale third year named Astoria Greengrass. She seemed nice enough, if a bit quiet and reserved.

Fred and George had been good enough to escort the small contingent of Gryffindors, including Bryony Dunstan, Topher Ingram, Jerry Tao, Dash Wickham, and Simone King. Simone's second-year sister Davina was also in attendance with one of her roommates, Sadie Holiday.

The other two houses didn't have quite the showing. Besides Stewart, the only Ravenclaws who came were Miguel Villa and a pretty, dark-skinned girl named Nadira Nejem. Tabitha Lively was the solo 'puff.

But still, quite the turnout for 7 AM on a Monday.

As promised, Verry had set out juice and pastries and fruit, and I let everyone take their fill before we began. I tried to focus mostly on the routes that the firsties would need to get to their classes, sprinkling in some interesting history and amusing tales and cautionary notes. I even divulged a few hidden shortcuts. Those were a real hit.

The whole production took a bit longer than I thought it would, which I was going to have to watch out for that if I wanted the rest of the tours to go smoothly. But we were all back at the Great Hall at around 8:15, plenty of time for everyone to catch breakfast with their friends (and to hopefully spread the word that my tour was awesome).

Anyways, I spent the rest of the meal squashed between the twins, trying to read up on more pre-natal spells while they did their best to distract me.

"Honestly, Feorge," George sighed theatrically, tugging away my book, "I'd forgotten Stella was so scholarly in the morning. Can't you do something about her atrocious study habits?"

"At least I have study habits," I answered, smacking the big lug as he dangled my reading material out of reach. When it didn't seem likely that George would be returning the text any time soon, I whined, "Freddie, control your twin!"

Fred just laughed into his pancakes.

Lee appeared with our schedules, giving me a crooked smile as he handed mine over first. "Yours is awful," he warned, "You don't have any free periods at all."

"I know," I sighed, "It's probably too much. I might end up dropping Muggle Studies and Divination. They're easy Os, but they're not really vital, and I'm pretty sure I can still pass the NEWTs without the classes themselves."

"But we're in those with you," Fred pointed out, he and his twin holding their time tables next to mine, "We'll have fun."

"Well," I snickered, "When you put it that way."

"Damn," George complained, "Herbology first."

Herbology was tied with History as the twins' least favorite class (even behind Potions), mainly because they couldn't blow anything up. They liked playing in the mud but not enough to make up for the lack of pyrotechnics. And unlike History, Herbology wasn't something they could drop or sleep through. It was pretty important for potion making to understand the properties of the ingredients.

"Charms right after though," Lee pointed out.

"Care of Magical Creatures after lunch," I contributed, munching on an apple, "At the very least, that's usually good for a bit of sunbathing. And I'll miss Hagrid, but the risk of getting bitten or mauled or something equally unpleasant has gone down considerably with him gone."

Ron threw himself down beside Lee, glaring across the table. "My piss is purple," he snarled.

"Huh," Fred responded innocently, "That's a neat trick."

Taking advantage of the distraction, I tackled George off the bench. We wrestled for a few moments, but he was pretty startled, so I didn't have any trouble nabbing my book back. "HA!" I shouted in triumph, straddling his chest, "Teach you to mess with my literature!"

Over the odd silence in the Hall, I heard the headmaster clear his throat as he stood to make an announcement. "Miss Black," he admonished flatly, a bit of a twinkle in his eye.

I stood and saluted, yanked George up, and we both took our seats.

"I realize that many of you have found yourselves... strangely afflicted this morning," said Dumbledore, raising a bristly white eyebrow in the direction of the twins and I, "Madame Pomfrey has assured me that any... digestive irregularities are entirely harmless and will fade with time. There is no need to seek medical attention."

My cohorts and I sniggered madly. Mischief managed.

xxXxx

So that was the first day: classes, tours, colorful urine and people freaking out despite Dumbledore's reassurances. I mean, it was my idea and all, but I hadn't counted on just how strongly some of the other kids would react. The Hospital Wing was packed full for hours, with a line out the door and down the hallway.

Ron didn't speak to us for almost two weeks.

But anyways, after a full block of lessons and three other laps of the castle with my tours (which were a huge hit and were attended by students as old as fifth year), I was pretty exhausted. I almost fell asleep on Fred's shoulder during dinner. He kept nagging me to go to bed, but I had more work to do: a ton of homework already, new prefect schedules, Cho's checkup, more healer studying.

"Stella?"

Plus, I had a whole year's worth of firsties to look after.

"What can I do for you, young Master Palladino?" I greeted the slightly chubby, frizzy blonde-haired Slytherin as appeared at our table.

Offering a kind of flighty, nervous half-smile, Orlando declared, "I wanted to go on your tour, but I got lost in the dungeon all day. I don't think I know how to get anywhere. Can you help me?"

"Hmm," I replied, "That is a pickle... well, I have a lot of work tonight, but I can show you around before breakfast tomorrow, let's say seven-thirtyish... in the meantime, um... do you know Quentin Raeburn or Jana Cadwallader?"

Orlando shook his head.

I stood from the table, yawning and kissing Fred's forehead. "I'll introduce you," I told the small boy, "I'm sure they won't mind looking out for you until you get your bearings."

"Thanks," Orlando beamed. He slid his hand into mine as we walked, which was slightly weird but not really anything to worry about. I got the impression that Orlando was just a bit odd, maybe sensitive. Definitely sweeter than your typical Slytherin, and he didn't seem to have one even remotely cunning bone in his whole plump body.

Quentin and Jana had already left for the night, but Larkin Shaw, another first-year Slytherin who was wearing a Sex Pistols t-shirt under his uniform, was good enough to let Orlando tagalong with him. Larkin had come to my after-lunch tour and asked a million and a half questions about everything under the sun. Apparently, the wide-eyed brunette was a pure-blood whose father had raised him as a muggle, so the boy was just slightly overwhelmed by his new magical life. Making him and Orlando be friends was actually a good arrangement for the both of them; Larkin needed someone to explain things to him, and Orlando needed someone to keep him from getting beaten up/lost/distracted/etc. They really seemed to hit it off.

Anyways, that didn't take too long, and then I wandered back to the table to find the twins with their heads together, Fred glaring at the pair of firsties as they walked out of the Hall laughing.

"What's up, love?" I asked, falling into his lap and yawning against his neck.

Fred wrapped his arms around me and grumbled, "Those little brats kept checking out your arse."

Snickering, I replied, "Even if they were, don't tell me you're jealous of a pair of first years?" His pout made me laugh harder, adding, "It's sweet, I suppose. But don't worry. I'm pretty sure that if I actually had any desire whatsoever to cheat on you, I could do better than prepubescent Slytherins."

"That's not even funny," he complained, even though he chuckled and began to tickle me mercilessly.

"Hem, hem," I heard, the sound immediately sending an entirely unpleasant shiver down the length of my spine. Fred and I both turned to find Umbridge standing behind us in all her tubby pink glory.

"Yes, Professor?" I inquired as sweetly as I could manage... it was a stretch because I had a very strong desire to hex the horrid bow out of her mousy curled hair.

Matching my faux sweetness with a hefty dose of her own, Umbridge announced, "Do you think, perhaps, that such public fraternization might not be setting the best example for your fellow students?"

"I don't see why," I answered, smiling at Fred and kissing his cheek, "My boyfriend and I love each other very much. We're respectful and responsible, and we have a lot of fun together. What better example could there be of a healthy adult relationship?"

Her brow furrowed, and she opened her toadish mouth like she was going to rebut.

"Although I do apologize if we've caused a scene," I interrupted with a friendly smile, "It wasn't our intention to make you uncomfortable."

At some point, a majority of the Gryffindor table and the next one over had gone quiet to listen to our little standoff.

Umbridge seemed a bit floored at the apology, stalling for a moment before hem, hem coughing again and continuing, "I just think that an educational environment should be kept as wholesome and distraction-free as possible. We are shaping young minds, you know, and clean minds are happy minds."

Bristling but doing my best to keep up the act, I stated, "Of course, ma'am. In the future, we'll be sure to keep our affections behind closed doors where they belong."

Umbridge frowned at me but didn't get a chance to add anything else before Fred and I stood and, with his brother and Lee in tow, took our leave.

xxXxx

I put off the rest of my work in favor of dragging Fred to Umbridge's hideously pink and lacy office and snogging him on her desk, doing dirty things that made the creepy cats in the hideous plates on her walls yowl and hide their eyes. Ah, sweet revenge.

Afterward, in a much better mood (clean minds are happy minds my arse), I bade Fred an enthusiastic good night and ran to meet Cho at my suite. We got there at about the same moment. I hugged her hello, and then we traveled in through the tree.

"Adrian," I greeted my grouchy roommate, who was sprawled on the couch by the fire, "I hope you had a lovely day."

He just grunted at me and sneered, barely even looking up from his book.

"Well," I continued, unconcerned, "Cho and I just have a bit of girl-talk to catch up on, so we'll be in my room. Night."

"He seems... nice," Cho commented sarcastically, hugging her still-flat midsection as she walked around examining my spacious boudoir.

I hadn't yet gotten around to really decorating, so the walls were bare for the moment. However, it was still a delightful space, with a red mahogany dresser, desk, and four poster, a hearth and a squashy red armchair, another large lake-view window, and a small walk-in closet. The en-suite bathroom was probably my favorite part, boasting a huge stone waterfall shower and an even bigger bathtub with a whole array of taps that spat a whole array of colorful, sweet-smelling bubbles on command. Full-length mirrors took up a whole wall, and a vase of fresh flowers sat on the counter by the sink; Verry always made sure I had fresh flowers even when it got into winter.

"I'm sure Pucey is still a little sore at me," I laughed, picking up Marigold from my pillow and giving her a cuddle, "But I'm not too terribly concerned with his feelings. Anyways, how've you been? Want a snack or a drink or anything before we get started?"

Smiling weakly, Cho answered, "Well, I've been a little nauseas, so some ginger ale would be nice."

"Of course," I said, "Verry?"

POP. "Yes, Miss Stella Black?" the house-elf chirped, bowing brightly, "What can Verry do for you?"

"We'd like some ginger ale, please," I requested, "And a pitcher of ice water would be very nice as well."

"Right away, Miss Stella Black!" And then she was gone with another POP.

Cho chuckled and sat down on my bed, commenting, "Quite a job perk."

Verry was back in only a few moments with another tray laden with drinks, and she'd even thrown in a plate of chocolates and some artfully arranged cut fruit. I thanked her heartily until the cute little thing actually blushed and left with another deep bow.

Cho and I drank and munched in silent for a few long minutes. I asked her about her first day, and she answered but didn't have very much to say. Finally, the girl sighed and muttered, "So... blood test? Is that all we're doing for now?"

"Ya," I replied, "I want to practice the other stuff a lot more before I actually try it on you. The blood test kit is pretty straight forward though, and I just need to check the levels of some of the chemicals and hormones in your blood to make sure everything is alright. Shouldn't even hurt."

"Ok," the young woman agreed with a shrug, "Let's get this over with."

I dug out the kit I'd sent away for (several vials and wire-thin needles of various sizes) and cast the necessary charms to sterilize the smallest container. Cho held out her finger, and I took a deep breath.

"I had a dream about Cedric last night," the Ravenclaw murmured sadly, looking away as I pricked the needle into the side of her index finger.

I waited for the vial to fill and for Cho to continue.

And she did, eventually, sniffling and chuckling, "He didn't say anything, just... smiled a little. Waved. And then I woke up... It was really kind of silly."

"Not at all," I replied, patting her arm, "You probably just needed to see his face. Sometimes it's the simple things that help us the most. I remember about a year after my mum died, I found a pair of her earrings in the back of a drawer. I pierced my ears myself with a sewing needle just so that I could wear them. I got blood all over the living room, and my godfather was so angry. I still put them on every now and again, when I miss her the most. They always make me feel better."

Cho gave a crooked grin, softly admitting, "I have Cedric's scarf. He gave it to me after one of our dates, and I didn't get a chance to give it back... I wore it to bed all summer."

Removing the vial, I declared, "No reason not to."

"I miss him so much," sighed the Ravenclaw, fiddling with my duvet as I healed the prick on her finger, "I think about him all the time. How it's not fair that he died so young, that he won't ever get to meet his son. That his son will never know what a great man he was."

"Cedric would've been a wonderful father," I commented, "And I'm sure between the two of us, we can make sure the little peanut knows exactly that."

"Peanut?" Cho chuckled, "That's what you're calling him?"

"Until you tell me otherwise, Mummy dearest," I laughed, winking and packing away my supplies, "Anyways, we're all done. I'll nab the ingredients I need for the testing tomorrow and hopefully let you know what turns up by the end of the week... you tuckered out, or do you want to stay and annoy Pucey with me?" I grinned and gave my eyebrows what I hoped was an enticing wiggle.

Cho shook her head and snickered, "As fun as that sounds, I think I'll just go to bed, thanks... I mean, really, Stella, thank you so much. Nothing about this is easy, but... you kind of make it seem like it is. I appreciate that a lot."

"My pleasure," I answered, standing and walking the Ravenclaw out.

Pucey was still where'd I'd left him, black hair still slicked back from his thin, angular face as he sneered into a textbook. As soon as Cho was gone, he commented, "I didn't think you actually had friends who weren't boorish gingers." He snapped his book shut and smirked insufferably, continuing, "But that Chang is a real piece. Next time, send her into my room, and I'll make her forget all about the pretty boy Hufflepuff."

I sighed and shook my head at him, stating, "You know, I really had hoped that this arrangement could be at least marginally civil, but I can see now that that's probably not possible. So, in the interest of never having to hear your voice again, I'm going to ask you a question, and I would like you to think very hard before you answer."

"You can't scare me," he hissed, throwing his book across the room, standing and getting right in my face, "You caught me by surprise on the train, but it won't happen again! I know curses you couldn't dream up in your worst nightmares."

With an eye roll, I chuckled, "Don't be so sure. Now-" I took out my wand and twirled it lazily, "Where would you like me to hex your bollocks to?"

Despite his earlier threats and bluster, the Slytherin turned about two shades paler. "Excuse me?" he gaped, already backing away.

(I've found that most male bravado will go straight out the window if you just threaten their junk. Handy little trick, that.)

"Where would you like me to hex your bollocks to?" I repeated slowly, slowly advancing, "Because at first, I figured I'd do one from each side of your thick skull. But now I don't know. It seems like a shame to split up the set. Maybe the chin would be a better choice. Or the forehead." Giving my most manic smile, I gushed, "Yes, that's perfect! You can walk around all day with your ball hairs tickling your nose and think about what it means to be a decent human being rather than an utter dick head. Now, hold still."

Pucey yelped and made a run for his bedroom, barely ducking out of my first blast of spellfire. "YOU'RE FUCKING MAD!" he shrieked, diving to avoid the next bolt, "I'LL HAVE YOU EXPELLED, YOU FUCKING LUNATIC!"

"Self-defense, Adrian," I cackled, likening my newest hobby to one of those duck-shooting games at muggle carnivals. I'd always thought they were rather barbaric, but that moment made me see the appeal. "Besides," I continued, blowing apart the table Pucey had hidden behind, "If all the crap I did during my fourth year didn't get me expelled, then just trying to teach you a bit of manners probably won't even be a blip on the radar."

"STOP IT!" he screamed, "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT FROM ME?"

I did pause in my attack, thinking briefly before calmly announcing, "I'd like your help making up the new prefect schedules, but only if you can keep your idiot mouth from running away with itself."

Just the top of his head and the whites of his eyes appeared over the top of a smoldering pile of wreckage.

Grinning, I offered, "Like I said, Adrian, I really had preferred that this arrangement remain civil. As long as I'm handing out second chances, I don't see why you can't get just one more. If you behave."

"A-Alright," he hesitantly agreed, standing and brushing himself off, "Alright, just... just don't do that ever again."

"That would be entirely up to you, dear-heart," I cooed menacingly, restoring the demolished room with a wordless flick of my wand.

Pucey seemed grudgingly impressed

"Now," I went on, bouncing over to the bare work table near the window, "What do you think of pairing Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy for a patrol? Crazy, right? But I still can't help wanting to see what would happen..."

xxXxx

The following morning, I was a little late to meet up with Orlando for his tour and doing that stupid thing where I walk swiftly through the castle not paying attention to where I'm going, reading or shuffling my belongings instead of actually watching my surroundings. It really was a bad habit, as falling down the stairs the year before proved quite well, so I shouldn't have been surprised at all when I was suddenly grabbed around the waist and yanked into a dim corridor.

Not expecting my attacker to in fact be my wonderful boyfriend, I screamed bloody murder and elbowed him in the face.

"OW! 'UCK!" he bellowed, releasing me immediately in favor of cradling his broken nose.

I whirled on my heel, wand already out and ready to hex the pants off whoever dared assault me. However, when I saw it was just Fred, all that righteous anger melted away in a split second. "Oh, hell," I gasped, unbelievably guilty, "Freddie, I'm so sorry! I didn't know it was you! Are you alright? Let me see! Godric's grapes, what on earth were you thinking sneaking up on me like that?" Before he could gurgle a reply, I seized his chin with one hand and aimed my wand with the other, quickly chanting, "Episkey."

He winced as the broken cartilage snapped back into place, the bleeding stopping seconds after. I couldn't do much about the raccoon-like bruising already settling around both watering eyes though. Sniffling and swiping at the gore on his face, he pouted, "Just trying to surprise you, love."

"Idiot," I laughed fondly, banishing the blood and then hugging him tightly, "You have to let me know when you're going to surprise me. I'm sort of a hex-fist-ask-questions-later kind of girl."

"Obviously," he chuckled, pecking my forehead.

I remembered that I was still late and yanked him along with me, questioning, "To what do I owe the unexpected kidnapping?"

"Just missed you," Fred replied, smirking smugly and stealing another kiss. After a few more steps, he added, "And I figured you might want my help giving the tour again."

Returning an accusing grin, I teased, "Sure you're not still jealous of the ickle Slytherins?"

"Not jealous," he defended sheepishly, "Just annoyed at the pervy little buggers... by the way, you're looking especially attractive this morning. Rule-breaking has never been so sexy."

Probably blushing, I swatted him lightly and wondered, "What are you talking about?"

One of his hands strayed to my arse, giving a firm squeeze and making me realize that I was not wearing a typical plaid uniform skirt. "Oops," I snickered, smoothing down my clingy black leather mini, "I was in a bit of a hurry and guess I grabbed the wrong one. You think I should go back and change?"

"Absolutely not!" Fred scolded dramatically, sweeping me off my feet and spinning me down the corridor.

xxXxx

Instead of finding just Orlando waiting for me outside the Great Hall, I found about half the male first-years, nearly a dozen boys total. "What's this?" I laughed, swatting Fred again when he growled at the munchkins, "Was my tour really that good that you lot came back for a second time through?" (In some cases, a third or fourth).

"Yes," they chimed, all smiling eagerly.

I started to understand why Fred was so annoyed; I definitely would've been had the situation been reversed. However, they were all so adorable and small that I didn't have the heart to do anything but chuckle and announce, "Alright then. Let's get a move on so that we don't miss breakfast."

Before the tour got very far, I grabbed Orlando and Larkin each by the collar, bending down to grin at them and whisper, "I didn't completely get it before, but now I see that you two are definitely Slytherins."

They both smirked guiltily, squirming when I ruffled their hair. "Sneaky," I scolded, "But I'm glad you're making so many friends."

Fred didn't take long to calm down and used the opportunity to recruit more testers... ok, well maybe he calmed down after recruiting the testers, but whatever works.

xxXxx

I had double Arithmancy on Tuesday mornings, and since neither twin had the attention span for the subject, I was on my own. Professor Vector was cool though; she said that she didn't mind if I knitted while she lectured (something to do with knitting being very mathematical), so I finished George's gloves and started on another hat. I was thinking of giving it to Ron to make up for the welcoming feast prank, which he was still sulking about.

Lee was in the class with me, as were Matthew Summerby and Joshua Lerner, so afterward we walked to lunch together while I explained a few concepts they were fuzzy on. We passed a large group of older Slytherins, and I was surprised when all I got were some usual glares and whispers, no threats or attempted spells whatsoever. Even though Pucey had been relatively well-behaved after my little fit, I'd expected him to take the first opportunity to round up a posse and enact some vengeance.

Interesting.

"Black!" someone shouted down the hallway. I turned and found Pucey stalking toward me, roughly dragging a sobbing Hufflepuff by the arm. "Deal with this!" he spat, completely beet-red, pissed off but still obviously quite embarrassed. He even added a sharp, rather insincere "Please" before fleeing as fast as he could go, skirting the other Slytherins almost manically.

Puzzled and annoyed by the odd behavior of my fellow Head, I quietly bade Lee and the others goodbye and got to comforting the poor girl. I ushered her into a more secluded hallway, conjured her a chair and a tissue and a glass of water, and found out her name: Phoebe Anderson, third year. I tried to get her to tell me what was wrong.

"I'm bleeding!" she finally whimpered, nowhere near calm but at least coherent, smudging at her wide, terrified brown eyes. Her little round face was all pale and blotchy, just slightly pimpled, and she looked like she really thought that she was dying.

Not seeing any obvious injuries, I tentatively questioned, "Is it between your legs, sweetheart?"

Phoebe nodded and began to bawl in earnest once again, hiding behind both hands and her dark bangs.

"Don't cry, honey," I soothed, sitting beside her and putting an arm around her slim shoulders, "I know it's probably very scary, but what's happening to you is perfectly natural. Has anyone ever told you what a period is? Maybe your mum?" The conversation was going to be a bit awkward for both of us, but with a little tact and sensitivity, I was hoping to lessen the trauma.

Shaking her head, Phoebe sniffled, "I don't have a mum. Just my dad. What's going on?"

I sighed and rifled through my bag for a medical textbook.

xxXxx

When I finally made it back to my suite much later that night, the first thing I did was slap Pucey upside his head. "What are you, twelve?" I scolded him, "That poor girl was utterly terrified! She came to you for help, and the only thing you could think to do was scare her even more?"

Despite the fact that he did look grudgingly guilty, the black-haired Slytherin defended, "I'm not about to explain... that to some clueless Hufflepuff brat whose parents didn't even care enough to do it themselves! I'm not a bloody Health instructor!"

I smacked him again, fairly incensed. After taking care of Phoebe, I'd stomped around practically the whole castle trying unsuccessfully to find the Slytherin bastard. He wasn't in class or at dinner, and my mood had really suffered with having to wait to tell him off.

"OW!" Pucey complained, "Stop hitting me! I didn't do anything! Got the brat help anyways, didn't I?"

"Only after calling her a stupid, disgusting twit and dragging her down the hallway by her arm!" I shouted, "She had a bruise! What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he fired back, flustered and defensive, "At least when you were crazy you weren't so sickeningly nice all the time!"

Momentarily flustered, I ground my teeth and answered, "I've always been sickeningly nice. Just because you and the rest of this half-wit factory managed to drive me to violence and self-destruction doesn't mean that you know anything about me! And don't change the bloody subject!"

Pucey sighed theatrically, pinching the bridge of his aquiline nose. "Fine," he snapped, "In the future, menstruating Hufflepuffs will be treated with the upmost limit of my compassion. Happy?"

"Not particularly," I said with an eye roll, amazed at the boy's peculiar rudeness, "But it will have to do." We glared at each other briefly and then stomped away to our respective bedrooms.

xxXxx

Pucey's oddness bothered me on and off for the next few days. He was an arsehole but somehow just not his normal slimy self; I got the feeling that there was something more going on with the young man. I didn't obsess over him or anything, but I'd walk past him in our lounge and wonder why he always sat in there instead of being out and about. I'd see him eating alone at lunch and wonder why he didn't join the crowd of seventh-year Slytherins at the other end of the table. In fact, I started to wonder why I never saw him talking with anyone who could even remotely be considered a friend of his.

But overall, I didn't spend that much time worrying about Pucey. I had plenty else with which to concern myself. Poor Phoebe Anderson was just the first of many issues I was called upon to resolve. I always seemed to be breaking up fights or talking neurotic students out of absolute meltdowns. Reversing spell damage and healing wounds, keeping the prefects in line. On Friday afternoon, Larkin Shaw tried to teach Orlando Palladino how to skateboard. You can probably guess how well that went.

"Hufflepuff's hemorrhoids," I grumbled at Larkin, holding my robe to Orlando's forehead in an effort to stem the bleeding, "What the blazes possessed you two brainiacs to ride that infernal thing at the top of a staircase?"

"We had a bit of time to kill before Charms," Larkin answered with a shrug. He leaned over my shoulder and stared in fascination at his friend's head wound, gasping, "Whoa. Lando, I think I can see your skull!"

Whoozy but conscious, Orlando gave a lopsided grin. "Really?" the portly little blonde asked in amazement, "Wicked. Somebody take a picture for me."

"Loons!" I scolded, struggling to keep my sticky grip on my wand, "Absolute maniacs!"

Orlando pouted a bit and then consoled himself by peering down my shirt.

"Stel," Fred complained, glaring at my clueless, concussed ogler, "We're going to be late for Defense." He was still a little peevish after Angelina's brutal quidditch tryout the day before, not to mention the insane training schedule she'd already handed down. He wasn't the least bit worried about being late to class; he was just cranky. (And, yes, that did happen occasionally, to both twins. They were pranksters, not robots, and they had moods just like everyone else.)

Cursing under my breath as I got blood on my leather mini (which I'd decided was far superior to the uniform tartans and had been wearing scandalously all week), I cast a few more healing charms and instructed, "Just go ahead without me. He needs the infirmary." I hoisted Orlando to his feet, sending one last apologetic glance at my annoyed boyfriend before dragging the wobbly first-year away.

Madame Pomfrey was impressed with the healing I'd managed to do on the injury. Honestly, I probably could've taken care of the whole thing, but with all the blood, I just didn't feel comfortable risking it. And Orlando did have a concussion, which I wouldn't have been able to do much about; I'd only read that chapter once so far and didn't have immediate access to the correct potions.

Anyways, after dropping Orlando off and then shuffling Larkin to his own lesson, all the while casting hasty cleaning charms on myself, I was late for Defense, sprinting into the classroom and squeezing in between the twins. "Sorry, professor," I huffed breathlessly, sending Umbridge a fake, sugary grin, "Head duties."

"I suppose," she simpered, seeming like she was debating calling me a liar to my face instead of just behind my back, "Let's not make a habit of such tardiness, Miss Black. There is much to learn."

"Of course, ma'am," I beamed.

She got back to her welcoming lecture, which wasn't really a lecture as much as her informing us smugly that we would be tackling only theory. Her infamous wands-away-quills-out nonsense. It was absurd, but I liked theory and figured I could deal.

Until I raised my hand and asked a question, a quite clever one, if I do say so myself.

"That is irrelevant," the bitch declared, dismissing me with a flap of her teeny, fat hooves, "You will be required to know the information that I provide. Nothing more."

I was so stunned that I couldn't answer immediately, staring open-mouthed at her gelatinous rump and hypnotic pendulums of arm fat. Finally, I raised my hand again.

"So, let me get this straight," I began incredulously, "Am I to understand that you not only won't allowing us to gain any practical experience with these spells, but that you'll also not be encouraging an open forum of intellectual discussion on even the theoretical components?"

She really was a dull one, taking a brief moment to decipher yet another one of my clever questions before snarling, "Exactly, Miss Black. Now, please refrain from causing any more disruptions during the remainder of the class period!"

Glaring, I made my decision in a split second. "I see," I hissed, standing abruptly, snapping my fingers to make my bag pack itself. That gesture alone seemed to impress all my fellow students. And what came next was even better. "Thank you, ma'am," I told Umbridge with yet another achingly fake smile, "But I feel it's best if we both stop wasting each other's time. You can consider this my drop notice, at least until you've rethought the curriculum."

I spun on my heel and marched toward the exit.

I was nowhere near surprised when both twins got up to follow, offering cheeky salutes (heils actually, which were very fitting and almost unbearably funny) before trudging after me.

The rest of the class, however, was a shock. Hearing a bit of a commotion, I turned back just inside the door and saw every other seventh-year NEWT student, individuals from every house and background, packing their belongings and leaving in my wake.

Guess I was a pretty decent leader after all. Or at least an exceptional trailblazer.

xxxxxxxxxx

Mwahaha. Stupid Umbridge. Anyways, more to come eventually. Hopefully soonish. And you should know by now how I feel about reviews ;)