Six chapters to go.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Slytherin Ways

"Oh, Bhelin," Pansy said, her expression brightening as the jet-haired transfer student cross her path in the corridor. "Have you seen Aksel about recently? I've been looking for him."

His brow furrowed, as he met her dark-eyed gaze. If he weren't a bit intimidated by the Viking-stature of his friend, he might've been the one to woo the pretty Slytherin witch, instead. But no; one look at the pure-blood girl—and the notice of her kilometer-wide mean streak—and Aksel had declared her off-limits to the others.

Pity, he thought sourly as he shook his head. "Sorry, Pansy. Haven't seen him since Divination class this morning."

She offered him a disappointed pout. "Damn, okay, then." With a sigh, she pivoted on her heel. After a few steps—and with the distinct impression that he hadn't moved, instead staying put to watch her saunter away—she turned back.

His gaze snapped immediately to her face and he plastered on a small, innocent smile.

"You know what? Do you think you could do me a favor?"

Bhelin nodded. "Sure."

Pansy walked back, closing the distance between them. Shrugging, she reached a hand out, idly toying with a bit of loose fabric on the front of his uniform jumper. "I just realized I never checked the library. I don't have time just now, though, I've been summoned by Headmistress Hard-arse."

He snickered at the way she rolled her eyes, the lids fluttering dramatically as she spoke the less-than-affectionate nickname. "What for?"

"What do you think? Starting another row with her precious pet Mudblood." Pansy curled her lip in a sneer as she shuddered visibly. "Anyway, do you think you could check the library and see if he's there?"

His gaze dropped to where her slender fingers stroked his shirt. "Um . . . sure."

"Fantastic!" She bounced up on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Can you tell him I'd like to speak to him? It's about . . . next Hogsmeade weekend."

It wasn't lost on her the way he bit hard into his bottom lip, holding back a frown, she imagined.

"I mean, if you look and you don't see him, then I suppose I'll just . . . ." She lowered her gaze from his to her hand hovering over his chest, and then looked up, once more. "Have to make other plans for that weekend."

"Oh, I'll look," he said with a smirk.

Pansy grinned widely as she turned and walked away. She'd been around boys eager-to-please long enough to know exactly what he'd meant.

He'd poke his head in through the library doors and look, so he could say he'd done it. But that was all right.

Pansy's grin turned wicked and she barely refrained from throwing a skip into her steps. A moment of peeking and listening was all they needed from him.

God, boys were easy.

Ginny ran back to the table, nodding to Hermione as she said to the first year seated in the middle. "Okay, sorry about that. Now, please, ask away!"

"All right," the little girl said, her flaxen head bobbing as she nodded excitedly—too happy that the Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley had offered to help her. She had no idea what they'd wanted to delay the impromptu lesson, but she was more than thrilled to play along. "So, one can transfigure animals, objects, and people, right?"

"Right," the two older witches agreed, hiding their smiles as Bhelin popped his head through the door just as the girl had stated her question.

"Well, if humans are animals, why isn't it the same spell for both?"

Ginny winced, rubbing her forehead. "You take this one."

Hermione leaned forward, resting one elbow on the table as she faced the first year. At this angle, she could register Bhelin's presence from the very corner of her eye. "The simplest answer is almost always the correct one. Humans can be transfigured into animals, and animals into objects . . . people into objects, but I think animals would be unique."

"Why's that?"

Shrugging, Hermione pointed to the paragraph in the text they were referencing. "Because while humans can transfigure themselves into animals or objects, animals are only transfigured into objects, not into people."

"God," Ginny said, making an expression that was half-wincing, half-amused. "Can you imagine what that would look like?"

"But then that means it is possible, doesn't it?"

Hermione nodded. "I suppose it does." She paused, tapping a finger to her chin in thought. "Huh, I've actually never considered that before. I would wager a guess people don't do it, because while people transfigure themselves, or their familiars—which by definition have a rapport with their witch or wizard, and thus understand what is going to happen to them—there is really no way for a non-familiar animal to consent to the process, making it horrifically inhumane."

The little girl frowned, her eyes narrowing in a way that reminded Hermione of a younger version of herself. "So transfiguring a being without their consent—"

"Oh, that happened at least once that we know of," Ginny said, still wildly amused by the whole thing. "During my third year, Draco Malfoy was transfigured, quite against his will, into a ferret by a teacher—"

"He wasn't a teacher, Gin," Hermione pointed out with a cringe as she shook her head.

"Fine, he was transfigured by a mad man who . . . ." Her voice trailed off as Hermione lifted her hand, signaling her to stop, and they heard the soft clicking of the library door closing.

Ginny risked a glance over her shoulder. Certain enough, Bhelin had retreated.

"A madman who was masquerading as a teacher," Hermione finished for her friend, not wanting to leave the younger student without the entire story. "Thank you so much for waiting until now to ask your questions."

The little girl beamed, pleased with the praise. "If I have any more questions, then . . . ?"

"Then you can always, always come and ask us, anytime. All right?" Hermione smiled warmly.

The girl nodded.

"What's your name?" Ginny asked as she and Hermione stood.

"Lily."

The two older witches exchanged a glance. "That's a good name," they said in unison.

Ginny's face pinched in a worried expression as she and Hermione stepped into the empty dorm-room and shut the door behind them.

"What's the matter?"

The ginger-haired witch's mouth twitched side-to-side. "Nothing, really. I'm just wondering . . . what if we're overplaying our hand?"

"We don't have a choice," Hermione said as she crossed the room to take a seat on her trunk. "We have to keep pushing until they go to Harken."

Ginny nodded, though she looked doubtful.

"Or, if they do manage to piece it together—though I think that highly unlikely, given all the things they have no way of knowing about our involvement in this—and they confront us." Hermione shrugged. "I suppose either option is an act of confession, isn't it?"

Her head falling back, Ginny made an unattractive groaning noise in the back of her throat.

"This is getting ridiculous," Draco said in a hissing whisper as he watched Ron and Pansy pointedly sitting on opposite ends of his room.

Potter was in some hushed conversation with Weasley, so Draco hunkered down beside the dark-haired witch. "What's going on with you two? Whatever it is, it's bloody annoying."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Pansy said, arching a brow, but not lifting her gaze from the book open in her lap. "I'm only playing my part in this scheme—and doing a masterful job of it, by the way—and he's acting like I murdered his mum."

"You could try asking him what's wrong."

Pansy gave a tiny start, blanching at the suggestion. She recovered quickly enough, however. "You're trying to be so helpful, why don't you go ask him what his problem is with me."

"Fine."

Dark eyes shooting wide, she looked up to see him already crossing the room. "Wait, Draco, I didn't actually mean . . . . Dammit!"

Draco stepped directly between Weasley and Potter, blatantly ignoring their affronted expressions. "Look here, Weasley, you and Pansy are going to spend next Hogsmeade weekend hashing out whatever this nonsense between you is, or so help me, I'll transfigure you both into scratching posts, and give you to Granger's Kneazle-beast of a cat."

Aghast, Ron looked from Malfoy to Harry.

Harry only shrugged, one eyebrow arching over the wire rim of his glasses. "Don't look at me, mate. You're both being stupid so . . . I'm actually with him on this one."

Ron's lip curled in a sneer. "I sort of hate you all, right now."

"That's okay, Weasle-bee," Draco said with a grin, clapping the ginger-haired wizard on the shoulder. "I never stopped hating you."