A/N: In which Sirius makes a plan, and then proceeds to break the sacred pact of the Marauders and goes back on it, with some consequences.

I apologize for not posting anything on Christmas like I intended to! Life got in the way and things were a bit busier than I thought they'd be. This chapter is somewhat shorter than usual, but the next chapter should make up for it. Also apologies for the imminent cliffhanger - I ran out of time, so it will have to be continued in the next update! I'm still a bit all over the place with my writing atm, but now that the holidays are over, my plans for January = write write write ;)

puppyduckster: True, Sirius has a lot to learn still! Lily and James scenes are my favorites too, I can't wait for them to get together...I can just imagine them teasing Sirius and Vivian for being so stubborn and then having it thrown back into their faces haha. And yes, Sirius is starting to admit that he likes her. It's taking him so long but we're nearly there!

percabethanyzane: I almost sat down and wrote a Gavin/Vivian oneshot but I think it would be weird to post anything like that right now...I'm thinking we need to at least wait until after season one. But I do really want to do something at some point so it's basically inevitable :)

Marnie Quiera: Lol ah thank you for that review, it made me laugh! Sirius is definitely going to be the first one who admits his feelings. I think it's only right, seeing how he's been acting for pretty much this entire story! Things should start to actually happen soon...I know I've been saying that for ages but I think I mean it this time? Every time I think I know what's going to happen with this story, Sirius does something stupid and changes all my plans. Like this chapter, for example ;)

LunaEvanna Longbottom: Yes, they would be the same. I'm afraid I can't say much more than that though, seeing as I'm not entirely sure what's going to happen concerning Sirius's offer of help. I imagine that Vivian will probably be pretty stubborn at first, anyway. It would be out of character for her to just accept help immediately, so it might take a while. Then again this should not surprise you at this point, I mean we're already 39 chapters in and they haven't even kissed yet...I don't even know how that happened. My original outline would have had their first kiss happen about ten chapters ago lol

rabradley09: Thank you!

Guest1515: I can see that happening too. In fact, that will probably be highlighted more in the next chapter, once the aftermath of this chapter is over!

gwenwesley: Lol "James'-obsession-is-nothing-like-Sirius'" yes, truer words have never been spoken. Ah and sorry, I did mean to post something on Christmas for you all but it just didn't happen. Everything ended up being a bit too hectic for me! I shall endeavor to write Gavin back into the story soon though!

Guest: They are getting there, veryyy slowly. Things are going to start happening though (I think?). It's impossible to know for sure because Sirius doesn't like playing into my plans lol. Thank you and I hope you had a Merry Christmas as well :)

Guest: I know...Regulus's fate is pretty much going to follow canon, for the most part. I do plan on changing some things up concerning him (timelines mostly). Still working it out!

laura-firewalker: He is starting to change his tune! Finally!

x3sunnydaay: You'll have to wait another 39 chapters for that lol ;)

remifoster1313: I don't think it will take TOO much longer now. As you can probably tell, my outlines keep changing lol. If only Vivian and Sirius weren't so stubborn. As for Vivian's potential Dark Mark, still not entirely sure. Either way though, whether she joins Voldemort's inner circle or not, she's definitely going to keep some of her ties to pureblood society. Ah, and of course apologizes for the not-so early update, things were a bit crazier than I anticipated!

vanaguire: Thank you :) I'm so glad!

nosserate: I'm tentatively planning on her accepting his help BUT let's face it, Vivian's too stubborn to do it that easily ;) Plus certain things need to happen in order to set the story up for the next season, because I over-complicate everything yay

Guest: That is a good song for OOTP!Sirius. I don't usually listen to music while I write but I have to admit that I've practically got a whole playlist for the OOTP era already planned ;) Vivian/Sirius aren't even a thing yet but I just want to start writing the reunion already lol

Guest13: Oh you remembered I said that did you? Darn ;) I give my plots away too easily. I'm inclined towards gushing about them lol Well I now have much more free time with the Christmas season being over, so I will endeavor to actually update the story sooner this week, since I wasn't able to last week. You might just get that miracle in the next chapter. It's a possibility that I'm considering, though I can't make any promises. This story seems to have a mind of its own when it comes to all of my supposed outlines!

Thank you all for supporting me by leaving reviews, favoriting the story, and following me! Writing would not be nearly as enjoyable without all of you here! I hope everyone has a wonderful New Years and that the coming year is kind to all of us readers/writers alike :)

Chapter Thirty Nine | Amantes sunt amentes

[Lovers are lunatics]

As expected, Vivian does not seek Sirius out during the next week to inquire into his help. That she isn't interested in said help isn't surprising to him. There is one thing that does surprise him, though, which is a rather confusing conundrum that he can't seem to stop thinking about. This conundrum is, of course, the admission that had left his lips on that snowy afternoon, pulled into existence without his permission. It's a conundrum that leaves him more confused than he'd like to admit, because – well, he can't like Vivian Blair. Not like that.

Initially, after the day is over and he's lying in his bed trying to go to sleep, he decides to put it down as an oversight. The problem with this decision hits him rather hard the next morning, when he sits down to breakfast and watches Vivian receive the morning post. His ongoing prank, which brought him an evil sort of satisfaction in the past, now suddenly seems to harken something else. It's hard to describe just what it is, but there's a certain amount of smug pride that comes with it as he sees the way Vivian snaps at one of her friends and hordes the poem for herself rather than hand it over for others to read. He finds himself resting his chin on his palm and forgetting about his breakfast entirely, instead staring across the hall at the Slytherin table with singular focus.

Her hair is untouched today. It drapes over her shoulders like a dark curtain, emphasizing the soft angle of her cheekbones. In the morning light, it holds a subtle cascade of silver highlights. He finds himself wondering if it's always looked so soft, and before he even knows what he's doing, Sirius is imagining what it might feel like to run his fingers through it. Perhaps her expression would relax into something almost tender. Her head might tilt just so to the side, and maybe his fingers would alight upon her neck to follow the elegant arch of it…

"Earth to Padfoot. Are you daydreaming or something?" James loudly asks. He looks a little too amused when Sirius jerks back on the bench and nearly falls right over the edge of it.

"You've only got ten minutes left to finish your breakfast, you know. Better get a move on," James snickers, and shoots Remus a knowing glance.

Sirius scowls at him and picks up his fork with a brooding glower. "Daydreaming?" he scoffs, as if the mere thought is offensive. A muttered, "Shove off," is added for extra insurance, just in case James decides to loudly say something else that might tarnish his ever-so-important reputation.

"I guess your recent flame didn't successfully distract you," Remus drawls, spearing Sirius with a raised eyebrow. He casts a quick glance at Sophia Keene, who is barely visible as she's sitting as far away from Sirius as is possible.

Ever since the confrontation in the Gryffindor common room several days before, she's made it her mission to inform as many people as she can that Sirius Black kisses like a troll, which the Marauders have obviously found to be utterly hilarious. Sirius had found it decidedly less amusing at first, but after a day or so he had fallen right back into his uncaring attitude and is naturally soaking up the additional attention that he's receiving. Apparently, Sophia's claims have only made everyone even more curious as to whether or not they are true, because Sirius has gotten about a dozen propositions in the last twenty-four hours alone.

Now usually, Sirius would take full advantage of these propositions – and he'd make sure to promptly set the record straight regarding his skill in the art of kissing – but to the surprise of many, he's expressed very little interest in righting his botched reputation. He seems to have taken on the adage 'there is no such thing as bad publicity'. Furthermore, he seems quite preoccupied, as well.

Sirius shrugs and drawls, "Keene? I wouldn't call her a flame. She should've known that it wasn't going to last. I have more sense than that."

Peter looks like he's wavering between wanting to nod his agreement and wanting to come out and admit that he doesn't agree at all, because he looks up for a moment from inhaling his omelet. He meets James's eye, who shakes his head at him, and Peter decides that it would be more prudent to just go back to eating. After all, they now only have eight and a half minutes left before breakfast ends, and he still has to finish his second helping of hash browns before they disappear on him.

"If you really had common sense, you'd spill what you found out in Hogsmeade instead of keeping it all to yourself," James says, much to Sirius's agitation.

He'd been able to successfully deflect his friends' questioning at first, but more recently, James has been adamant about finding out everything that Sirius had learned the day he had followed Vivian to the Shrieking Shack. It isn't that Sirius is necessarily keeping it from them. It's just that he doesn't really know what to say, because he doesn't know what sort of task Vivian has been given. That's the real issue, after all. Her apparent engagement to Adrian Mulciber is a whole other topic, and one that isn't shrouded in nearly as much mystery.

"I need to find out more before I say anything," Sirius mutters, casting another glance over at the Slytherin table. Vivian is sipping what looks like tea, having already finished her breakfast. He studies the delicate curve of her wrist as she lifts the cup to her mouth as he says, "…I have to figure out a way to get her alone so that I can interrogate her about it…"

That's the whole problem. Ever since that day on the Quidditch pitch, it's been near impossible to properly corner her. He can't just waltz up to her in the middle of the hallway and demand her attention, after all. He's got a reputation to uphold.

When he turns back to his friends, he finds them all staring at him with raised eyebrows.

"What?" Sirius demands gruffly, and waits for them to say something else about how he's apparently in love with Vivian Blair. Annoying, that is. He's not in love with her. Honestly, just because he's recently realized that he doesn't hate her and that he might find her somewhat attractive doesn't mean anything, right?

The teasing doesn't come, though. Instead, Peter blurts out, "Padfoot, I think you're forgetting you who are."

It's Sirius's turn to raise an eyebrow, this time in confusion, as he glances over at Peter. "How'd you reckon that, Wormtail?" he asks, only for James to shake his head at him, looking like he's coming to the end of his patience.

"Honestly, mate. I thought you were more creative than this," he inputs.

Remus nods. "Can you really not think of a way to get Blair alone for an hour or two?"

Sirius stares at them blankly for all of two seconds before a smirk curls itself over his mouth. Upon seeing it, James shakes his head again, Remus snickers, and Peter sighs in relief before returning to his breakfast with a little too much zeal.

"Of course, I still think the easiest way to deal with this is to just go up and talk to her, but I'll admit that this particular situation might call for more extreme measures," James concedes. Very quickly, his smirk lifts up to match Sirius's.

Oh, this is an expression that the Hogwarts population knows very well by now. It's one that is sure to bring about pandemonium and chaos whenever it appears. It is, naturally, a look that means pranking is imminent.

Sirius glances back over at the Slytherin table and hums, "Did you ever get around to buying those dungbombs, Prongs?"

Prongs just smirks, pushes his glasses up, and responds, "Several dozen, to be precise."

Sirius smirks, stares at Vivian for a moment longer, and then stands up. "Right. Some planning is necessary. Maybe I'll skive first class. This is more important."

"Binns won't even realize. Let's go hang out behind the greenhouses," James immediately responds, looking eager to dive into one of his favorite hobbies.

Sirius pauses and then says, "Fine, fine. You two coming?"

Remus, despite having the reputation of being a stellar student, is not exactly averse to skipping classes when the situation calls for it. He shrugs and makes to get up, casting a glance at Peter, who is trying to shove the last remaining piece of hash brown into his already full mouth.

The other Marauders turn to watch him succeed at this great and noble feat, and only shake their heads at him as he swings his legs over the bench and teeters into a standing position.

"That was truly impressive, Wormtail," James says, slapping a hand on his back as they make their way out of the Great Hall. "I think you've just managed to eat a full day's worth of food in just one sitting."

Peter, who is still chewing even as he walks towards the doors, just nods happily.

Concerning pranks, the Marauders prefer to take their time with the planning process to ensure that the end result is perfectly chaotic and breeds optimal disorder. They have a way of things, you see, that relies in part on precision and much planning, whilst at the same time allows for a certain generosity towards intuitive decision-making. This process has been honed over a course of several years, and has allowed them to claim a title that they are most proud of: Hogwart's most successful Enemies of Peace. This title is one that they will hold for several decades until it is challenged by two red-headed mischief-makers, but at this current moment in history, it remains theirs absolutely.

Now on this particular night, in this particular corridor, you will soon see a perfect example of this practiced blend of precision and intuition, for on this night the Marauders are, so to speak, on top of their game.

"Target is four corridors down and heading this way, gentlemen," Prongs whispers. He glances away from the map and asks, "Wormtail, how fares the dungbombs?"

Wormtail, from his position several paces away, responds, "All in position, Prongs."

"And the fireworks, Moony?"

"Well, I still think we should have used less of them, but – "

"I'll take that as an affirmative. Padfoot?"

"The tripwire is in place. Also, seeing as I'm the mastermind behind this prank, I think I should be the one asking the questions," Padfoot adds.

"That is irrelevant, seeing as I've already asked them," Prongs retaliates.

"Still, as the leader of this most dishonorable, no-good band of Marauders, I think we ought to have a more outlined distribution of roles."

"What do you think this is, an assembly?"

"We are far above menial organizations, Prongs, but now that you mention it, it might be a good idea to set something up, in the instance that one of us oversteps themselves."

"It seems like you're overstepping right now, Padfoot. I think you've forgotten yet again that we've all agreed that I'm the leader, not you."

"I don't believe we've ever had an official vote."

"That's because we don't need one. I'm the obvious choice."

"I thought this was a democracy – "

"Target is two corridors down!" Wormtail exclaims, settling the argument for now.

"Merlin! Into position, gentlemen!" Prongs quickly says, and throws the cloak over his shoulders after shoving the map into Moony's arms.

Padfoot glowers at the place where Prongs had just stood and hurriedly inputs, "Right, gentlemen – into position," before slipping behind the statue of Crandall the Crosseyed.

Tonight marks the conclusion of one week of planning. Padfoot had not lied in claiming to be the mastermind behind said planning. He had indeed come up with the idea of utilizing the classic tripwire scenario, but his dishonorable friends had helped the idea into fruition.

To summarize, the prank will go something like this: Vivian Blair, AKA The Target, walks unassumingly around the corner, tripping the wire that is stretched across the corridor and thereby setting off the first round of fireworks. Amid the chaos of fizzing whizbees and whirling firecrackers, the much-praised Rochester Roman Candle alights into the air with a vengeance. Its trajectory, calculated in a rarely used feat of mathematical aptitude by one Messr. Moony, collides with the ceiling, knocking into a single dungbomb and exploding into an impressive display that is most certainly not meant for one single school corridor to contain. This dungbomb, having been knocked from its placement, falls at a slight angle to the floor (M. Moony was quite thorough) and drops directly onto another tripwire, which, when pulled, sets off a small flame. This flame then sets alight a single fuse, which catches afire due to the oil that it has been treated with. The flame quickly travels down the corridor, spreading to smaller fuses as it goes and colliding with multiple fireworks. These fireworks, whose trajectories have been further calculated to ensure proper alignment, promptly knock into some half dozen dungbombs, which are set up throughout the corridor in various hidden areas, and, by the time they drop to the floor and go off, (spreading their customary stench throughout) The Target should be in prime position to truly appreciate the refined and highly sophisticated prank, brought to her by Hogwarts' most extraordinary Enemies of Peace.

If this doesn't make Vivian Blair angry enough to give him a detention (where they will successfully be stuck in the same room together for at least an hour), he doesn't know what will.

"One corridor down!" Moony hisses through the darkness, and Sirius grins.

But the strangest thing happens, as he's standing in the shadows, waiting for The Target to arrive. Despite planning this out for the last week and sneaking into Hogsmeade to ensure that they have enough fireworks and dungbombs to make it the best prank ever concocted (well, until the next one, anyway), in that moment, as Sirius waits with baited breath behind Crandall the Crosseyed, he pauses.

Now, the whole point of being a Marauder is that there are no rules in becoming one. There are certainly no orderly meetings or voting sessions (despite Padfoot's complaints), for such things go directly against the most dishonorable name of their pact. The only necessity of character that a Marauder must possess is, of course, an unfailing desire to create mischief whenever and wherever is possible. There cannot be any sign of indecision or hesitance, for these traits speak of an underlying condition that all Marauders across the world shiver upon hearing: a disposition towards law and order, which is the antithesis of the Marauding lifestyle.

Sirius Black, who prides himself in being one of the greatest and most dedicated Marauders in history, has never in his life backed out of a prank. But as he's leaning against Crandall's stone figure, he has a thought. Oh, it isn't necessarily a new thought, in that he has never had it before or, indeed, that it has not impacted his actions in the past. In fact, this particular thought has been one that has proven rather difficult to shake over this past week especially, but he has thus far managed to shove it out sight and out of mind to the best of his Marauding abilities. The only problem is that this is one of those thoughts that, once it has dug its claws into a man, is extremely arduous to remove in its entirety.

The thought has to do with something that had been said to The Target – er, Vivian – on a particularly cold day one week prior. Yes, and it happens to be a thought that has consequences, especially to a person who has spent the better half of the last year trying to mitigate the feelings that align themselves with it.

And so Padfoot, greatest and most dedicated of his fellow Marauders (though they may dispute this), does the one thing that he knows a mischief-maker ought never do. He hesitates.

In the briefest span of that moment, as Vivian Blair begins to walk around the corner, all Sirius Black can think of is that if she walks into that tripwire and sets off his spectacular prank, she will never forgive him.

Alas to the man who thinks that a woman's vengeance is not all-consuming. It can at least be said that Sirius Black is, occasionally, wise to the workings to the female race.

Dear readers, what happens next marks the onset of the Perfect Example; the necessity to be both precise as well as intuitive where it concerns pulling a proper prank. Well actually, to be more accurate, this Perfect Example in fact utilizes a paradoxical approach: it outlines what one should not do, ever, if one wishes to pull a proper prank.

The Target is now hardly three steps away from the first tripwire when Padfoot, overcome with the thought that she may perhaps get so angry at him for this that perhaps a detention will be the least of his rewards (curses and hexes being the most likely alternative), jumps out from behind the statue and exclaims, "Stop!" in a voice so panicked and harrowed that Vivian, surprised to even see him there at all, does indeed stop.

Of course, now that Sirius has so thoroughly abandoned his hiding place, he finds himself standing there in the center of the corridor, which is completely dark save for the bright light emitting from Vivian's wand, and – well, I hardly think that the next course of events should be too terribly surprising, considering the circumstances.

There are, after all, two tripwires.

Prongs, Moony, and Wormtail all watch with gaping mouths as Padfoot stumbles over the wire located in the center of the corridor. This wire, if you recall, sets off a flame, which immediately catches onto a fuse, which splits into many other fuses, and ultimately sets off quite a few fireworks. And, if in case you've forgotten what happens when these fireworks go off, allow me to paint a picture for you:

Sirius Black extraordinaire, greatest and most dedicated Marauder in the history of mischief-making, gets pelted with dozens of dungbombs.

But oh, it isn't over yet. This is quite an elaborate prank (which Sirius is beginning to now regret most grievously) and as the dungbombs are knocked to the ground by the fireworks, Sirius makes the mistake of trying to run for cover. It seems that finally, he has remembered the single most important rule of thumb for Marauding: never hesitate. Unfortunately, and most likely because he has already hesitated (and therefore tipped the sacred balance), it is far too late.

"Bloody hell!" he yelps, and throws himself towards the wall as fireworks and dungbombs explode around him, sending off sparks and putrid gases. The corridor descends into a chaos like no other, which would normally be incredibly impressive if it wasn't for his position right in the center of it. As it is, he doesn't exactly have the opportunity to really appreciate his masterful prank coming to life (albeit backwards and sadly out of order), because he's a bit too busy trying not to get singed by the many fireworks crashing into the wall beside him, and all he can think about is that he may have made this prank a little too extraordinary (and perhaps invested in one too many fireworks, at that).

But, as was mentioned some paragraphs prior, it isn't over yet.

As was also mentioned, there are two trapwires.

How Sirius Black, great Marauder that he is, manages to stumble into the second wire so clumsily, one will never know. (In fact, while we are on the subject, it should be said that years from now when this prank is laughingly brought up in conversation, he will adamantly deny having jumped out into the hallway to begin with.) All that needs knowing is really how The Target, AKA Vivian Blair, reacts to the sight.

Now you may recall that the first tripwire is attached to a roman candle. To explain the general workings of this firework for the Marauder novices in the audience, roman candles are wondrous things that explode into a series of flaming balls and fluttering sparks, and often reach rather high altitudes because they are so large and, well, dangerous (see below).

As the roman candle begins to zoom forward into the pandemonium, Vivian stares in total and complete shock into the corridor ahead of her. The odd firework whizzes past her head, but they are mostly contained in the space before her. In fact, at this particular point in time, many of the fireworks have since lost their power and have dropped to the floor along with their now-useless dungbomb counterparts, but the momentary silence of their conclusion is soon filled by the very loud and very violent triggering of the Rochester Roman Candle. See, there is a reason why this firework is much-praised, and that is because it is very powerful, and has a range that is (again) most certainly not meant for school corridors.

"Oh fuck," Sirius bemoans, and watches as it crashes headfirst into the lone dungbomb, last of its kind, and proceeds to release the loudest screeching noise that one can imagine. That is not all it does, though, and in the thick of things, Sirius concedes that it had been a completely shortsighted and yes, brainless thing to invest their Marauding funds in.

The Rochester Roman Candle erupts into enormous balls of fire, one after the other, shooting against the walls and into the ceiling. Loop-de-loops senselessly crash past him, knocking over paintings and sending the portraits into a tizzy. A blast of sparks waterfalls over him, singing his clothes and hair. In a moment of frantic hysteria, he thinks that one of his eyebrows has caught on fire and immediately starts slapping at his face as he trips backwards and pushes himself away from the pure chaos and towards – well.

A hand grabs a fistful of his shirt and forcefully drags him backwards, and just in time, too, because the place in which he had just been standing gets hit by one of the balls of fire. He stumbles back, lands on his arse, and, breathing hard, looks up to see Vivian crouching in front of him with wide, capricious eyes. But there must be something about the sight he makes (eyebrow smoking, hair singed, looking so appallingly stunned), because the judgmental expression is very quick to fade into something else entirely.

He has seen her laugh before, but it had not held a candle (excuse the pun) to this.

Vivian breaks out into such laughter that she has to wipe tears from her eyes. The sight of him makes her laugh so hard that she ends up stumbling backwards, so overcome by the hilarity of the whole situation that she can no more hold her position than she can look away from him. And she doesn't – look away that is. Every other second, just when he thinks that perhaps her laughter is coming to an end, she glances back at his stunned expression and laughs all over again, just as senselessly as she had before. And Sirius just stares at her with that astounded look on his face, brought into existence partly because of the complete and utter failure of his master prank, and also due to the fact that Vivian Blair looks incredibly gorgeous when she is overcome with mirth. And really, considering that he has spent so long trying to mitigate his feelings, and undermining the truth of them, and lying to himself about what they really are, is it any wonder what he ends up blurting?

"You're gorgeous," comes unbidden from his lips, as he props himself up onto his elbows, on the floor of the corridor, while the Rochester Roman Candle explodes into an enormous loop-de-loop and skids across the ceiling, leaving soot marks in its wake.

And it's the strangest thing, really, because he is not afraid of the words. When he says them, his whole chest grows warm, and his mouth tilts into a broad smile, and he discovers that he'd like to say them again, and again, and again…

But he can't, because here's the thing:

When you have dedicated yourself to being a True Marauder, and have sworn to uphold yourself to the dishonorable vows therein, you learn a thing or two about several important – nay, critical – things that must be set up in order to ensure that a prank always succeeds. Yes, of course, the act of hesitation leads to obvious detriment, but what I am referring to now is in essence more of an escape plan.

See, magic is quite useful to the burgeoning Marauder, and should be utilized often and with much frequency. The most useful spell of all happens to be one that muffles the sound of a prank. One might think that, considering how all four Marauders are present, one of them would have had the foresight to cast such a spell, but this is unfortunately not the case. (Though Prongs will later claim that because it was Padfoot's idea, it was his responsibility. He will also add that this misstep makes Padfoot a shit leader, and will forever consider this failure as justification to assert his own leadership.)

All this aside, Sirius does not get to repeat his words. He doesn't even have the chance to hear Vivian's reaction to them, though they certainly make her laughter stop (he'll have to remember that), because it is at this moment that someone else arrives on the scene.

"You four again?!" Filch screeches, holding onto Mrs. Norris tightly when a stray ball of fire hurls towards them.

And now, concerning the Perfect Example, in which we speak about precision vs. intuition, one last thing ought to be mentioned. The reason as to why the Marauders are so successful at what they do is because there happens to be four of them, and between the four, they balance each other out rather perfectly in that some are more precise while others are more intuitive. Working together is the natural and most efficient state of existence (it helps that they are also friends) because each Marauder brings something else to the table.

You might be wondering which of the two Sirius Black has been graced with. Allow me to illustrate.

When he sees Filch and his scraggly cat, Sirius does not think. He does not consider his options, or try to come up with a reason as to why he is in the center of this corridor in the middle of the night while fireworks explode around him. He certainly doesn't hesitate this time, when he throws himself to his feet, grabs Vivian's hand, and breathlessly pulls her away from Filch's shouting form.

Intuition, dear friends. Let us hope that it will save him from Vivian Blair's potentially upcoming wrath.