AUTHOR'S NOTE: We're there at last! Funny how each year so far has been much longer than the last. Anyway, here you will see zany schemes play out, papers being written, and Fate getting royally tricked. There is also an element 'missing'; those who notice it ought to know what I mean; worry not, I haven't forgotten. All shall become clear in time. Finally, if you have any thoughts at all, good or bad, about this chapter or this story, I urge you to review; and I reiterate my thanks to all who have Favorited, Reviewed and Followed this story already.

Chapter XXXIV: Third Year Finale

Argus Filch did not have many friends, but he made up for it (in the way of communication) by grumbling about his problems to whoever happened to be nearby — an effect that played very nicely in Hermione's little scheme. Before morning, Hogwarts knew of the indelible message on the wall in the Charms Corridor. As Dumbledore was still sulking, and, thus, had neglected to consult Hermione, the faculty wasted considerable amounts of time trying to erase the message or ascertain its provenance. This was perfectly futile, as it was impossible to remove the message without also removing a portion of the wall — and a solemn vow, not exactly magical but binding nonetheless, prevented the Professors from willingly damaging the Castle.

Rumors grew over the next two weeks, ranging from a conservative "The Weasley Twins did it," championed by the Hufflepuffs, to convoluted plots involving the Animated Ape, the Ministry of Magic, and a blood feud between the Goblin King and the Ghost of Sirius Black. News got out, as they inevitably must, and soon the Quibbler contributed their usual toffee-flavored grain of salt, in that they blamed a Conspiracy of Ants.

Now, under most circumstances, Hermione (who, after a few days, had recovered from the lines) would have tried to shut down those rumors, and then had a long, enjoyable, and endlessly frustrating chat with Luna Lovegood on the importance of fact-checking in journalism. Yet this time, all that brainless gossip was actually playing right into her hands, so she let herself be convinced to let it all go; and her inevitable chat with Luna was instead her quizzing the Ravenclaw about how to run a newspaper. (She was making light investigations on behalf of Dobby and Quentin, whose dream of a free and accurate magical paper were fast materializing.)

To try and make amends, she explained her plan in detail to Neville Longbottom, who agreed to keep quiet about it, and told no one else among her friends. It was extremely entertaining watching her various acquaintances' attempts at deciphering the Other's message.

Minerva and Ash, being Portraits, felt a certain kinship to the Castle and thus were generally disapproving of giving it unwanted, threatening tattoos.

The Basilisk, always a bright one, quickly guessed that Hermione was behind it somehow, but told her some disturbing thing about the circumstances of the last time someone had written something like that on the walls of Hogwarts (a sentiment echoed by Hagrid).

Apophis only learned of it through her, but refused to make a guess, being much more interested in the latest improvements to his enchanted armor, which allowed him to fly around, giving the appearance of an eel.

Harry, Maximilian and Ron knew her too well not to guess it was her handiwork somehow, and she didn't tell them otherwise, but she refused to tell them any more, which they accepted in good faith.

Ginny, taking it upon herself to investigate, had somehow traced it all back to Douglas, but she was at a loss at the Slytherin's motivation for investing so much into such an odd message.

When asked about the message in Defence Against the Dark Arts class, Professor Lupin refused to speculate, but launched into a very interesting lecture on permanent magical effects such as those that had obviously been used there. Hermione took a lot of notes, showed them to Douglas, and Douglas asked how on Earth she'd managed to copy his notes from preparing the mission. Lupin really was good at what he did. She thought he would have been a wonderful magical detective if it weren't so convenient for him to work at Hogwarts, what with both his old friend Sirius, and the only living Basilisk (whose Petrificatory services he now shared every full moon with dozens of werewolves from all over Britain), living there as well.

Speaking of Sirius Black, the old Marauder was growing a little jaded with his spectral routine, which drastically limited the number of ways he could prank Snape (ghosts could not cast jinxes). And thus, two weeks to the day after the appearance of the Other's message, he discussed the matter with Hermione over their traditional cup of tea in the Corridor.

"You know, Padfoot," she said once he was done explaining, "I think I may have an idea there."

"I hope you don't mean just stopping the ghostly gig overnight," said Sirius, who was well aware of Hermione's love for supremely straightforward solutions. "I might be bored, but I have my prankering pride. That narrative shall have a thrilling show-stopping conclusion, or my name is not Padfoot."

"Your name isn't Padfoot," Hermione couldn't help but point out. "That's your nickname."

"Touché, but my point still stands."

"I know," she said, "and don't worry, what I have in mind is, in fact, rather interesting. What if we exorcised you?"

"If you made enough of a show of it…" Sirius mused. "Yeah, why not? But who? When? Where?"

"I have a very good idea who," she said, the pieces clicking into place even as she spoke. "Did I happen to mention Douglas Wilkes to you?"

"Well, no," Sirius answered, "not you, but I've seen him around. Tailing people and such. He seems like a decent enough kid, you know, except for being a Slytherin."

"Padfoot, being a Slytherin does not make you evil."

"Oh, really? They spend their time playing littlest-dark-wizard! You can't convince me acting evil all the time won't make them evil at least a little bit."

"You've spent most of a year pretend to be evil all night long."

"I did say I was getting bored with it, didn't I? Perhaps I'm resisting the temptation and casting off the corruption before I am wholly consumed by Darkness. You never know."

"Oh hush you."

"Also, I don't have a glowering, neck-down-breathing Snape for a Head of House."

"A valid point," she said through her giggle.

"But to the point," Sirius cooled down. "What exactly does Douglas Wilkes, the Allegedly Not Evil Slytherin, have to do with the Extraordinary Exorcism of the Terrible Ghost of Sirius Black?"

"Mr Padfoot, you have a way with words," Hermione complimented. "Well… you must have heard of the message on the wall?"

"Sure," he acquiesced. "That's one throwing Dumbledore out for a loop. That was you?"

"My idea," she answered. "But Douglas carried it out."

Sirius dropped his teaspoon dramatically — then it flew back into his cup like some sort of dragonfly, somewhat undermining the effect.

"Gasp!" he vocalized, putting a hand against his heart. "Macbrains! Are you telling me you've been planning pranks with someone else?"

"Er," she said guiltily, "sort of? I don't know whether it really counts as a prank, because… snap. Sirius, do you know Occlumency?"

"A bit." Sirius shrugged. "I was never really good at it, but Dumbledore had all of us in the Order learn the basics back in the day."

"…Order?"

Hermione was quite confused. The Order of the Junior Marauders had, as far as she knew, been made up on the spot the year prior by Fred and George Weasley; there was no way Sirius had been a member of it, let alone Dumbledore, especially considering Sirius was a senior Marauder, not Junior.

"Ah, you don't know?" Sirius soon cleared up. "The Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore's answer to the Death Eaters, if you will; a sort of secret organization or private army. We dissolved it after the war… never really made it public You know. Just in case."

Sirius glanced in the direction of the Final Chamber that held Voldemort and Quirrell.

"Mind, the important people in the Ministry — Crouch, Bones, Bagnold — they always knew, but the public doesn't. Sorry for not letting you in on this earlier, I told Harry about this earlier, so, er, between that and your friendship with Albus, I thought you knew. …All of us Marauders, Harry's mother, the Prewetts, Moody, we were all members. Even Snape, once he turned on ol'Voldy."

"Huh," Hermione said. "…Well. As you can probably guess, I have, to put forward a conservative estimate, roughly 78 different questions about all of this. But… I think we really should return to our primary topic of conversation, or I'm the first to admit we'll completely lose track and you'll never learn the plan. Which would be a shame, since it's actually a very good plan, if I do say so myself."

"Alright. Shoot."

"Well, if indeed you can Occlude a little, then I can… welllp. I'm an idiot. Right. Secret-Keeper. Bad Hermione! Bad!"

Sirius stared blankly. at her sudden imprecations.

"Er… Hermione? You alright?"

"No! I've just been an utter imbecile!"

"What?"

"Of course you know about the Prophecy."

"Ah yes. Yes I do."

Hermione breathed deeply, calming herself down.

"Right. Right," she said. "Well, I'm trying to loophole it away."

Sirius slowly downed the remainder of his cup of tea.

"…You're sure about this?"

"Uhuh."

"Because remember," Sirius continued slowly, "trying to fight Fate has a tendency to blow up in people's faces. Literally, in You Know Who's case, as I recall."

"I am sure," she said confidently. "Pretty sure. …Let us say reasonably confident. But I do think I'm in the clear. The Turban was trying to avert the Prophecy. I'm working to fulfill it, just in an… unconventional fashion."

"That involves Douglas Wilkes?"

"It does."

"May I ask how?"

"You may. Consider me asked."

"Oh come on!"

"Padfoot! You don't have to bark at me!" she said.

Indeed, Sirius's shouting sounded remarkably like how he barked when in dog form. It was much like how she'd once caught Professor McGonagall purring after eating a particularly good piece of pork pie. The minor ways in which Animagry might affect its users was an interesting topic to research someday, someday when she'd actually have a minute to herself in a 29-hour-long day.

"Really now," she said more calmly, "he is a key part of the plan, as is the Message. I don't want to tell it all to you just yet, though. Try your straight-O's mind on that riddle, hm, would you? It'll give you something else to think about than new ways to prank Snape. Which, while funny, tends to get stale after a while, in my experience. I don't see how you still find it hilarious twenty years later."

"Azkaban," Sirius answered flippantly. "The Dementors took away a lot of my memories of old pranks. I'm pretty sure I've accidentally reinvented a few pranks this year that Snivellus had already suffered through long ago."

"That's horrible."

"Eh, not so much. I try to look at the bright side."

"What bright side?"

"It gives me a reason to keep pranking Snape."

"We're going in circles."

"No," Sirius said with emphasis, "you're going to Hogwarts, and I'm going to ask you again what the plan is."

"Padfoot," Hermione said with a friendly smirk, "that was a terrible set of puns. And I'm not going to change my mind just because we bantered a bit since the first time you asked."

"You're cruel!"

"No, I'm just a friend," she replied. "But alright, I'll give you a clue or two. I'm building Douglas up — under an alias, of course — as a mysterious force within Hogwarts. Powerful, invisible, hating ants with a passion."

"Why ants?"

"Not telling."

"…Well, I suppose all we have left to do," Sirius thought aloud, "is to plan out the exorcism, then. We don't want it to feel like a rehash of my death scene, nobody likes an inferior sequel."

"True."

"For a start, you must make sure the boy has a good costume, unless you're just making him literally invisible, of course, in which case you've got Prongs — I mean, Harry's cloak… Also, check that he can act alright… though if he's playing some sort of villain, he ought to be a natural, what with being a Slytherin… ah."

Sirius's smile had suddenly disappeared from his face.

"What is it?"

"That Douglas Wilkes…" Sirius said with hesitation. "I… I was there when his father died. That won't be a problem, will it?"

"Why would it be?" she asked. "That you were with Mr Wilkes till the end, it's touching, really, I don't see how—"

"No, no," Sirius interrupted her, looking pained, "you don't understand. Orson Wilkes was a Death Eater. He was killed in battle. By Moony. In front of me."

"…Oh."

"Don't worry, miss!" Douglas reassured her the next day. "I'm very professional. And even then, I never knew my father."

"You're an orphan?"

"I think my mother would beg to differ, miss."

"Oh, right."

"Wonderful woman, my mother. You should meet her some time."

Dear Quentin and Dobby,

The news you bring concerning our project of a newspaper are very encouraging. Since you can't seem to figure out a title, might I suggest"The Other Paper"? We are aiming to be 'the other paper' compared to the "Prophet", after all; and I have certain interests that would be well-served if you called it that, I'll explain later.

Also, if you are as ready to print the first issue as you imply, then I may have a scoop to start it with. I suggest you, Dobby, come to Hogwarts on Friday, the 24th of June, in the morning. I cannot tell you just what will happen, but it'll be spectacular. Do bring a camera.

Your friend,

Hermione

THE OTHER PAPER

Issue One - Saturday, the 24th of June, 1994

EDITORIAL

My every brabule is shimmering as I write down those words that I hope may go down in History.

I do not presume to know how many of Wizarding Britain's population — or, dare I hope, of the magical world at large — shall have picked up this first issue of 'The Other Paper'; but however many you may be, this humble editor can only thank you from the bottom of his rachis for reading his work, and congratulate him for looking farther than everyday routine and accepting another newspaper than the 'Daily Prophet'.

While we are on the matter of the 'Prophet', at which some of you may recall that I was once illegally employ: our purpose is not to replace the Prophet. Rather, we mean to give it healthy competition. The more scholarly among our readers are surely familiar with the concept: no single source should be trusted with informing an entire nation, lest it fall prey to the temptation of altering facts, knowing no one stands to correct them if they do. Truly, we do not accuse the Prophet of having yet committed such a crime, but the possibility is there, was there.

Much like the 'Prophet', the 'Other Paper' shall strive to inform the people of the Wizarding World of noteworthy news, and, on occasions, educate them about issues of general culture as back features. We shall have reports, we shall have interviews, we shall have essays. We shall even have comics, in time; any aspiring cartoonists, and, for that matter, any who'd wish to join our writing staff, be they wizards or otherwise, are invited to write us, our address being 12, Gagwilde Lane, Hogsmeade.

Our major difference with the 'Prophet' shall be that, in order to grant us the time to check our facts, and to gather enough stories to fill an issue without resorting to sensationalism, our schedule will be weekly as opposed to daily. Expect a new 'Other Paper' every Saturday from this day forth. You may purchase copies of any issue at the aforementioned address, or write us at the same to subscribe to the 'Other Paper'.

Again I thank you for taking the time to buy and read this issue,

Quentin the Quick-Quotes Quill

EXTRAORDINARY EXORCISM OF A PERPLEXING PHANTOM

By Quentin and Dobby

Our colleagues of the 'Daily Prophet' documented it all wen, on last Halloween, a dread phantom made an appearance in the Great Hall: a chain-rattling, eyes-a-glowing apparition who claimed to be the shade of the infamous Sirius Black, whom the 'Prophet' had earlier reported had blown himself to smithereens in that same Hall just a year ago. (See in Page 3 our summary of the life, death, and lingering mysteries of Sirius Black.)

Today, it falls to the 'Other Paper' to report the third, and, it seems, final, installment in the postmortem adventures of Black.

As reported by a respected (although not well-liked) member of Hogwarts faculty, the noted Potioneer, Professor Severus Snape, in our interview Page 4, the Terrible Ghost of Sirius Black had taken to causing mischievous, murder-free mayhem in the halls of Hogwarts in the months since Halloween. At 8 a.m., as the Hogwarts students tucked into their breakfast, the Terrible Ghost materialized by the Head Table, intent on bothering Prof. Snape in some new and obnoxious way. His plans to somehow use a dead cod and fishing rod to inconvenience Prof. Snape remained unfulfilled, however, as the Ghost was suddenly flown backwards into the wall, somehow hitting it in spite of his ectoplasmic condition.

Black then collapsed to the floor, as if struck down by some curse, twitching in apparent agony (see animated picture on page 2). Crackles of green light were clearly visible around the Terrible Ghost's face and hands. A booming voice was then heard, seemingly coming from the very walls of the Castle. It stated:

'HEAR, HOGWARTS! I AM THE OTHER! I HAVE CLAIMED THIS CASTLE! AND THOU, SIRIUS BLACK, HAST ALLIED THYSELF WITH ANTS; THUS SHALL I STRIKE THEE DOWN AS AN ANT! BEGONE!'

The confused among you, who, I presume, make up a large portion of our readership by this point, are invited to refer themselves to our summary of previous sightings and reports of the magical intelligence known as The Other in Castle Hogwarts, on Page 4.

The Terrible Ghost wailed his innocence, still thrashing on the ground, becoming less and less visible by the instant; he was, at that point, surrounded by billowing green mists, yet it was plainly visible that his spectral body was unraveling. As only the head was left of the Terrible Ghost, he finally confessed to his kinship with the ants, and most of all with one Ant Lord, Either.

Once the Terrible Ghost of Sirius Black had been fully exorcised, and the last of the mists had finally dissipated, the voice of The Other once again resounded:

'THEREFORE SHALL I SEEK OUT YON ANT LORD, AND DESTROY HIM!'

Lightning rained down from the Hogwarts Great Hall's enchanting ceiling, for all that the weather outside was clear; and for the briefest moments, several students report that they caught glimpses of the outline of a tall, skeletal, cape-wearing being pacing through the Hall, the presumed physical from of The Other. Finally, a stone was magically lifted from the floor of the Hall, revealing a small colony of ants. Each ant was then raised in an orb of green energy by the power of The Other, questioned by the booming voice, and, when it failed to reply, obliterated in a flash. At last, the very last ant was levitated, and The Other said:

'AH! TIS YOU, MINE SWORN ENEMY, THE ANT LORD! DIE BY MINE HAND, EITHER, AND NEVER AGAIN THREATEN THIS CASTLE WITH YOUR LOATHSOME ANTSINESS!'

A clawed, gloved hand, as large as a Troll's and as long-fingered as a Dementor's, became visible around the so-called 'Ant Lord' and crushed him with a noise that will haunt the nightmares of all present, a noise that must surely have been magically enhanced in some fashion.

'JUSTICE HAS BEEN SERVED,' came the ehcoing last words of The Other, which faded into silence as the puzzling presence receded.

It goes without saying that few will miss the Terrible Ghost of Sirius Black in Hogwarts, least of all Prof. Snape. Hogwarts, according to spokeswoman Prof. McGonagall, already has its hands full in the supernatural troublemaking department, with the well-known Poltergeist Peeves and a large host of Ghosts. The parents among you needn't worry; dramatic though our account may have sounded, Prof. Dumbledore and the Heads of House of Hogwarts assured our reporter, Mr Dobby, that a lecture was given to the children to make sure they did not come to be frightened of The Other.

The Other itself remains a mystery, but it is clear that, whatever it is, it fancies itself a protector of Hogwarts, and is only hostile to Ants. We shall keep our readers informed, in future issues, of any outstanding theories concerning its nature.

THE QUIBBLER

Issue 6790.5 + 3/4

The 30th of June, 1994

THE OTHER A DISGUISED STUBBY BOARDMAN?

Musical Conspiracy Revealed

Also, On Page 4: IS YOUR COUCH A LIVE CROCODILE? 4 FOOLPROOF WAYS TO FIND OUT!

"Why Darling," Sally Granger said, "I must say, I didn't expect you to come back with Hogwarts with not one, but two pets. Ooh, they're awfully cute, aren't they? …You can't talk to them, can you?"

"No, mom, don't worry," Hermione winked, "they're just pet. And yes, they're little darlings, the both of them, aren't they? And they get along well together."

"They didn't cost you too much, did they?" her more grounded father asked.

"Oh, no," she said, "they didn't cost me a thing, Dad. And even then, I can support myself, now, to an extent… I have shares of a newspaper, and a pet Dark Wizard millionaire."

"I am… going to pretend I didn't hear that," said Mrs Granger, "for the sake of the moment."

"Yes, for the moment," Mr Granger nodded. "I definitely will be asking about this."

His wife shot him a glare.

"…Later on, Sally dear, I did mean later on."

"And in the meantime," Mrs Granger asked, "what are those two darlings' names?"

"The turtle is called Earl Gray," she explained, petting the grey little reptile, "there's a funny story behind that, I'll tell you later."

"And the hamster?"

"Neither."

"Really?" said her mother, surprised. "That's a rather odd name. How about…"

"No, no, it must be Neither. I know it's a little strange, but… ah, I'll explain it to you at some point, but it takes some context to understand."

Hermione mentally reviewed her year at Hogwarts as she watched her mother pick up Neither the Hamster, gifted to her by Douglas Wilkes, the Other.

"Rather a lot of context."