The Flip Side - Chapter Twenty-Five - Slytherin Unites

Today was the day: Gryffindor vs Hufflepuff. Quidditch season was about to resume and the students and staff were collectively eager to get outside and watch (or play in) the highly anticipated match. Flint was in full Captain mode, and even forgot to sneer at either Abby or Pucey as he stopped at the breakfast table to give Bletchley and Higgs their instructions on what plays he wanted them to watch. None of them minded a bit, of course, as this was by far his easiest form to handle, though it did give Pucey a bit of a struggle, making him long for a Quidditch assignment of his own. He brightened a bit with a reminder of his future League tryout.

"Statistically speaking, it may look like the better option is for Hufflepuff to win, but I honestly think it's better for us if Gryffindor wins today," Higgs was doing a quick numbers crunch in his head as the wave of students made their way to the Entrance Hall to head down to the pitch. He ignored Bletchley's moan of protest and continued. "Hopefully they can beat them down a bit as well as reveal any weaknesses in Hufflepuff's style for us to exploit. Since we have to finish this season strong without our best flier."

"Cheers," Pucey nodded appreciatively.

"I don't want to cheer for Wood," Bletchley pouted and kicked at a loose pebble.

"Well, you don't have to cheer for him, just watch how he breaks their plays," Higgs rolled his eyes.

"He just doesn't want to cheer against his dealer - oof!" Abby's comment was cut short as a body slammed into her and went bouncing off sideways. Pucey easily caught her before she fell, and she steeled herself to face the perpetrator of this latest "accident" that Celeste and several other girls had been orchestrating since February.

As it turned out, this time was a true accident, and the Slytherins found themselves watching Penelope Clearwater frantically gathering her books and parchment that had gone skittering along the stone floor.

"Where's the fire, Penny?" Pucey smirked as he stood Abby back upright.

"Abby - I'm so sorry, I did not see you there," Penelope apologized hurriedly as she tried to collect her belongings from beneath people's feet before she could be yelled at. Abby felt her guard drop as she was hit with a very real sense of deja vu from earlier in the year when a small, blonde Ravenclaw first year had helped her gather her fallen books outside the library.

"It's all right," she replied and picked up a piece of parchment at her feet as her friends stared at her oddly.

"What?" they asked in unison.

"What?" Penelope echoed.

"I'll catch you lot up," she told Pucey, Higgs, Bletchley and Sam. "The hall will have to clear out before we can be sure we've found everything."

"Whatever you say, babe," Pucey gave her a funny look but didn't see a reason to argue, and kissed her forehead with a suspicious glance at Penelope before heading out to the grounds.

"Mudbloods," Bletchley shook his head in bewilderment as he and the others followed Pucey out. "I'll never understand them. I mean, running away from a Quidditch match to do homework - honestly."

"Ignore him," Abby winced at the casual use of the derogatory term. "He thinks he's being funny."

"And you don't?" Penelope asked skeptically as she accepted the loose page that was handed to her. "Since when?"

"Since about Christmas," Abby admitted.

"Why? What happened at Christmas?" Penelope knew she was pushing her luck but could not help her curiosity at the unexpected kindness. Abby side-eyed her and for a moment, Penelope thought she was about to be told off for nosiness.

"One in a long line of eye-opening moments this year," Abby replied instead as the Entrance Hall began to clear out.

"Fair enough," the other girl accepted the vague response as the best she would get and they separated to recover the remaining scattered parchment. Several stragglers bent to pick them up and hand them back to the girls, and more than one discretely asked Penelope if she was all right, considering the company.

"Well, thank you," Penelope smiled cautiously as Abby handed her a stack of parchment, several of which were adorned with footprints. "Though I admit I'm still confused."

"Maybe I'm just after the points for helping a Prefect," Abby drawled. She had done so few selfless deeds in her life that she was unsure how to receive a compliment for one.

"I probably shouldn't tell you this," Penelope bit her lip with a cheeky twinkle in her eye. "But you were a Prefect. Last year before you, er, left."

Abby gaped at her as the memory was triggered. "Wow," she said with a tone of amusement. "I'll bet that's one Aretha wanted to stay forgotten."

"You didn't hear it from me," Penelope grinned and shifted the stack of books. "Anyway, I've got to return this to the library. I was trying to finish before breakfast so that I could watch the match and spend the afternoon with P-with a bit of freedom! But I lost track of time," she explained in a rush, blushing a bit at where she stumbled over her words.

"You'll make it," Abby replied. "Olly and Cedric still won't have finished their grand sportsmanship handshake to show how much more civilized they are than our Captains."

Penelope laughed genuinely. "I hope you don't mind me saying, Abby," she began cautiously. "But you seem a lot happier these days."

"Why should I mind?" Abby said. "I am a lot happier these days."

"Good," Penelope returned. "Because, well, you actually make a really good couple."

"Thanks," she smiled, and then a sly look crossed her face and she looked to make sure they were alone. "So do you and Percy. Don't worry! I won't tell," she said in response to the flush that spread instantly across Penelope's cheeks.

"Oh, please don't," she pleaded. "He's not ready to go public. He says his brothers would have a field day with it."

"Listen, Penny, if there's one person you don't have to explain the nightmare of being targeted by Fred Weasley to, it's me," Abby laughed and the girls waved goodbye as Penelope headed up the stairs to the library.

Abby stood alone for a moment in the Entrance Hall's echoing silence. That same warm feeling she remembered getting in her stomach after she had loaned her notes to Hermione Granger was returning, but with it this time was a pang of guilt. Between Flint and Celeste, Abby had now felt what it was like to be bullied, and she knew that Penelope, among many others, had been on the wrong end of that exchange with her more often than not.

But this time had not been one of those times. And Abby felt again that smug satisfaction of defying the expectations of her parents and their circle of pure-blood superiority. Penelope Clearwater was a Muggle-born and yet Abby could see no reason why she was meant to believe any of the propaganda about her, just as she had come to see with Hermione. She remembered her promise then to both Fred and herself to make her own decisions about people, and resolved to continue down that path that she had begun to walk.

"Wow. Her Royal Highness is donating her time to the common folk, now?"

Abby looked around at the sound of the voice as she exited the castle and saw Violet leaning against one of the massive stone columns framing the courtyard, glaring at her accusingly.

"Oh, so you're speaking to me again, are you?" Abby shot back, not appreciating being blindsided.

"You're right - more fool me," Violet rolled her eyes and brushed passed her in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. "I'll leave you to it."

"Vi, please don't be like this," Abby sighed and switched tactics, catching up to her and touching her arm only to be shaken off. "Look, how was I meant to know that you had a crush on Ade? You never told me!"

"Who says I have a crush on Adrian?" Violet rounded on her, eyes blazing with humiliation.

"Well, you asked him out last Valentine's Day, didn't you?" Abby replied uneasily.

"Oh, that," Violet spat with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I wasn't being serious. He was that mopey and I was, well, I was being charitable."

"And this year?"

"What is your point, exactly, Abigail?" Violet was clearly not taking kindly to having her bluff called.

"That I want you to talk to me!" Abby stamped her foot.

"Did you know I'm seeing Daniel Yaxley now?" Violet continued without acknowledging her. "And he is absolutely lovely and perfect for me - unless of course you think you deserve to have a go at him as well?"

"What? No-"

"Not that he would be interested with the classless way you've been behaving," Violet interrupted and took a cheap shot for good measure. "No, see, some of us still care about our family's reputation in the Sacred Twenty-Eight. You could do with reminding."

"Could I, Vi?" Abby snarled at her, fed up with being made to feel cheap. "Because the Flints are Sacred Twenty-Eight and all, but that didn't stop Marcus from behaving like a filthy, cheating pig."

"Daniel is proper classy," Violet pursed her lips angrily. "So, if you want to continue to muck about with the riff-raff, suit yourself! But I've no reason to be jealous over you and Adrian flaming Pucey!"

"Violet, I don't want you to be jealous!" Abby shouted back at her.

"What would I have to be jealous of you about, anyway, Abigail, hmm?" Violet's face darkened; she was rambling now, trying to find anything to say that could hurt Abby. "How you get anything and anyone you want at the snap of your fingers? How you're so pretty and so perfect and we're all supposed to just, what? Be in awe of how much better you are than everyone?"

"Are you finished?" Abby crossed her arms, trying not to let Violet's attack get to her. "Because I've got a load of Dragon Pox you can have if you think my life's so perfect."

"Oh, right, hide behind that again, because you're such a victim," Violet was shouting at her now, and angry tears were beginning to form in her eyes. "Do you know what I did? I actually thought that I would get Adrian's attention with you away in St Mungo's. I never would have asked him if you had been here! It was always about you to him, even if you never saw it."

"Vi-"

"But the punchline, of course, is that he still didn't notice!" Violet continued as tears began to fall down her cheek. "I was always in your shadow to him whether you noticed or not! And why? I mean, we have the same blood status! The same pedigree! But you get treated like the flaming Queen of Hogwarts and I somehow became the court Jester!"

"Violet, that's not true!" Abby yelled frantically at her, feeling tears stinging her own eyes now at the sight of her friend's tears. "I have never thought of you that way and I don't give a damn what anyone else thinks and neither should you!" She paused for a moment and wiped her cheeks. "Besides, Bletch is the court Jester."

Violet snorted despite herself and pulled a tissue out of her pocket. "Do not make fun of me, Abigail, I can't bear it."

"I'm sorry, I'm not making fun," Abby pouted. "I just wanted to make you laugh." There was a strange rumbling from the Quidditch pitch, but they ignored it, assuming the match had begun. "I miss you! Terribly! And the only way I'm better than anyone here is because I've got the most amazing group of friends who took care of me when I needed them!"

"I tried," Violet sniffled.

"You were ace!" Abby sputtered as both girls began crying properly. "And the only reason I didn't tell you about Ade is because I was scared you would think badly of me!"

"I didn't tell you I had a crush because I thought you would hate me for it!" Violet sobbed and held out her hands.

"Vi, I'm so sorry!" Abby took her hands and pulled her into a hug where they proceeded to cry into each other's shoulders, still ignoring the rumbling that was now growing louder. "I hate that I made you feel like that."

"Oh, you didn't do anything really. It was all in my head," Violet pulled back and wiped her nose. "Besides, it's me who should apologize! I'm so embarrassed that I actually hoped you being sick could help me get a date!"

"Please just promise me you'll talk to me from now on," Abby whimpered. "I can't lose you, Vi. I've missed you so much!"

"Oh, Abigail, I've missed you too!"

"I'm sorry!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Friends?"

"Friends."

They hugged again, and in the momentary peace they could no longer ignore the rumbling and turned to see what appeared to be a mass exodus from the Quidditch stadium.

"What's going on?" Violet asked, dabbing at her eyes, as the wave of students approached the castle.

"There's no way the match ended that quickly," Abby raised an eyebrow and saw familiar faces running near the front of the mob.

"Abby? Abby!" Pucey was full-on sprinting through the crowd up the path toward her, followed closely by Bletchley and Higgs. When he got to where they were standing, he hugged Abby so forcibly that he nearly bowled her over.

"What's going on?" she asked muffled into his chest.

"You're alive, that's what," he replied bizarrely and she noticed that she could hear his heart pounding beneath his coat.

"You're scaring me now," she pushed back enough to look into his eyes.

"Everyone reckons there's been another attack," Bletchley puffed as he and Higgs caught up.

"What?" Violet blanched, wiping her nose. "Who?"

"We don't know for sure," Higgs shook his head. "McGonagall just came marching out and cancelled the match as it was about to start. We're all being sent back to our common rooms."

"Omigosh, Abby! Violet!" Lara screeched as the rest of the group arrived and pulled everyone into one big hug, regardless of who had been upset with whom. "Thank Circe!"

"We were all so scared when you didn't come down!" Aretha bawled as Sam gently pulled her off Violet (noticing Yaxley trying to get to her) and redirected her toward Higgs.

"I thought I fucking lost you," Pucey swore and squeezed Abby into his chest. Violet watched them over Yaxley's shoulder, noting the way they held each other. "Again."

Everyone was rather emotionally beside themselves as the rest of the school began to pass them. Some even exchanged supportive looks, having guessed at the need for urgency as Pucey had darted by them up the path. Even Flint stopped for a moment and nodded at him after seeing she was all right. He nodded back.

"Right, then, you've located them," Professor Snape said in an exasperated tone, having been obviously thwarted in maintaining order over his sixth years in the stadium (though there was the faintest hint of a look of relief on his face). "Now, if we could continue on to the common room in a civilized manner, thank you."

The students chattered anxiously as they filed into the castle, looking back and forth as though the Monster might be lurking in every shadowy corner. More than a few Slytherins received dirty looks from students from the three other Houses, and there was a heavy weight of suspicion in the air.

"What are they looking at?" Bletchley asked, walking backwards and narrowing his eyes at a group of Gryffindors who glared at them as they turned down into the dungeons.

"Bletch, you're going to trip someone," Aretha reprimanded him, still looking shaken.

"Well, I want to know why I'm getting shaded," he grumbled, righting himself as they turned a corner.

"Because they think it's us," Sam rolled her eyes.

"Us? Don't we have enough drama in our group?" Bletchley snorted. "When are we meant to find the time to summon monsters?"

"Not us, us, you twat," Pucey replied, squeezing Abby's hand. "Our House."

"I have a terrible feeling," Abby said quietly, moving closer to him as they walked. She could not stop thinking about having been talking to Penelope Clearwater only minutes before, and beneath it all was a mental nudge that reminded her of the bright yellow eyes from her nightmarish vision.

"If I could have everyone's attention," Professor Snape called severely, a grim look on his face, as the Slytherins filed through the entrance to the common room and huddled amongst each other. Couples held one another close; Pucey hadn't let go of Abby's hand since he had found her, and now pulled her into a hug where they leaned against the back of a couch.

"Has there been another attack, Professor?" a fifth-year girl, Emmaline Webb, blurted out from where she stood next to a bookshelf, wringing her hands.

"Quiet. This is not a question and answer period, Miss Webb," Snape disciplined her for speaking out of turn. "Yes, there has been another double attack. Therefore-" he raised his voice to counter the instantaneous flurry of chatter that broke out, "-a new set of rules has been put into place. All students will return to their House common rooms by exactly six o'clock. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher."

"Are they going to reschedule this match, then?" Flint demanded. "If everyone gets escorted to and from the pitch?"

"I would highly doubt it, Mr Flint, as the remainder of this season has been canceled," Snape replied with drawling sarcasm, though there was a glimmer of disappointment. The Potions Master was just as involved in the contention for the bragging rights of the Quidditch Cup as the other Heads of House. "Along with any other evening and weekend clubs and activities."

"Tell me you're joking, sir," Flint said as a wave of muttering swept through the common room. The Captain's voice was a snarl but his eyes were pleading. There was no hiding his desperation at the thought of losing Quidditch.

"I most certainly am not," Snape said with an annoyed sigh. "And I should not need to express to you all the severity of the situation but in case any of you are too dimwitted to have worked it out yourself-" his gaze seemed to linger on Bletchley, "-I will urge anybody with any information to come forward. If the culprit is not apprehended soon, the school is likely to be closed."

"Professor," Abby quickly moved forward as Snape turned to leave. "Can you tell us who was attacked?"

"I'm not here to indulge you with gossip, Miss Malfoy," Snape retorted as he opened the door to the dungeons.

"Please, sir!" she tried again. "It's just that I was speaking to Penelope Clearwater just before I came outside. She stayed in and, well, can you just tell me if she's all right?"

Snape stopped and turned around to look at her, peering into her blue eyes as though searching for any indication of deceit. She read his ominous silence for the answer it was, and reflexively covered her mouth with her hands in shock. Other students began to take notice of the change in body language between them and wondered aloud what Abby had said (confessed?) to him.

"Perhaps you had best come with me, Miss Malfoy," Snape said finally.

"Did you hear that?"

"No, what happened?"

"Snape told Abby to go with him."

"What? Why? Is she a suspect?"

"Wow."

("I wouldn't put it passed her.")

("Me neither. Maybe she'll get expelled.")

"Oh, shut up about things you know nothing about."

"And you do?"

"Ah-h-h, hello, Abby, where are you going?" Pucey launched forward out of the gossiping crowd and caught her hand as she moved to leave with Snape.

"It's Penelope who was attacked, Ade," she looked back at him with wide, bewildered eyes. "I was talking to her right before it happened. I've got to tell them what I know."

"Know? There's nothing to know," Pucey was talking uncharacteristically quickly, his dark eyes staring imploringly into hers. "So you talked to her? Big deal. So did I. She was fine when I left."

"I might have been the last person to talk to her, Ade," she frowned.

"So what?" he returned.

"I'll be with the teachers - nothing will happen," she tried to assure him. "But if there's some detail that could be a clue, I've got to help!"

"Please don't leave."

Her heart wrenched at the fear in his eyes; not even half an hour had passed since experiencing the terrible possibility that she had been attacked. He was not yet ready for her to again be out of his sight. She moved closer to him and he tilted his head downward to rest his forehead on hers.

"I promise I'll be right back," she whispered.

"Just don't do anything dramatic like make me fight a monster to come rescue you," he replied, only half-joking.

"I won't," she smiled and squeezed his hand.

"And, sir, if you could possibly see to it that Lockhart is nowhere near her if she does need protecting, I would personally appreciate it," he said to Snape, pulling himself together and regaining his easy, sarcastic delivery, though his eyes still very much reflected his anxiety. Snape smirked but said nothing, holding the door for Abby as they both left the common room.

"What is going on?"

"Ade, what did she say?"

"Did you hear who was attacked?"

"I thought she said Penelope Clearwater."

"She's a Prefect!"

"And another Mudblood."

"Yes, but a Prefect!"

"This is rubbish!" Flint exploded, silencing the rest of the chattering students. "We were well on our way to winning another season! Now our streak is broken by a technicality?"

"I don't think it will count as broken if we still win it next year," Bletchley said without thinking.

Flint rounded on him. "I won't be here next year," he growled.

"Ah, right," Bletchley gulped. "You meant your streak."

"Are you seriously acting like Quidditch being cancelled is the worst part of all this?" Violet hissed at Flint.

"It is to me!" he snapped back at her.

"The school is practically declaring a state of emergency, Flint," Sam glared at him. "But if you want to go get yourself attacked, I certainly won't stop you."

"Never-mind the fact that no Slytherins have been attacked," Draco drawled.

"None of us are in any danger," Pansy Parkinson said imperiously.

"As long as we stay away from all the Mudbloods," Millicent Bulstrode agreed with Pansy.

"Oh, good! Our all-knowing second years have spoken," Aretha clapped back.

"So you three are willing to take the risk that this Monster or whatever it is can just smell your blood status and will give you the swerve accordingly?" Higgs scoffed, making them shrink back as their confidence dissipated.

"What if it's out of control?" Veronica Wallace, another fifth-year girl suggested with wide eyes. Penelope sat next to her in Herbology.

"Unless someone wants to suggest that a ghost and a cat were anything more than collateral damage, I think it's safe to say we're all in danger," Pucey said, returning to where Higgs and Bletchley stood.

"I bet you're just loving this, aren't you?" Peregrine Derrick spat at Pucey.

"Come again?" he raised his eyebrow at the other boy.

"You got the rest of your season taken away and now so does everyone else - how convenient," Derrick elaborated on his accusation.

"Oh, wind your neck in, Derry," Bletchley rolled his eyes.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Higgs agreed.

"You both would say that."

"Doesn't seem to outlandish to me."

"He swans around here like he's so cool."

"This is starting to sound like jealousy, Carter."

"Well, it has to be somebody."

"Okay. What about the attacks that happened before he was suspended?"

"Oh, right."

"And why would he have been worried about Abby's safety if he was behind it?" Sam voiced what she felt should have been obvious.

"Maybe he's trying to throw everyone off track," sneered Carter Fleming, the seventh year who evidently had it out for Pucey.

"Trust me, he's not that good an actor," Bletchley smirked.

"Cheers, mate," Pucey deadpanned.

"This is all a big joke to you, like everything else, isn't it?" Derrick snarled again.

Pucey was irritated now, and rolled his eyes as he turned back to face him. "Do you have any idea how much I love Quidditch, Derry?" he said and shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked toward the younger Beater. He spoke slowly and directly, in a tone that he did not often use, which made everyone stop and listen. "Have you any idea? I'll give you a hint: it's a lot. And, not to toot my own horn, but I also happen to be pretty fucking good at it."

"Toot, toot," Bletchley snickered as he and the rest of their friends pantomimed pulling a steam engine whistle.

"In fact, I love it so much that, in case you didn't notice, when I got suspended, I didn't really take it well, did I?" Pucey continued as Derrick glared at him. "Went and broke my hand, I was that angry."

"And bonked his mate's ex," someone whispered intentionally loudly from the crowd. Several people snorted. Pucey couldn't help himself and tipped an imaginary hat in the direction of the comment.

"Which led to even more broken bones, as you all witnessed," he smoothly transitioned and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "So why, when I love something that much, would I take it from Bletch and Terry and all, hey? Look at Flint right now," he commanded, directing everyone's attention to the Captain. "Have you noticed he hasn't agreed with you? Because, even when he's that brassed off with me, he knows I wouldn't wish him losing Quidditch."

"Nah, but only because you know I would hunt you down if you ever did," Flint smirked.

"And I, for one, don't need that kind of stress," Pucey concluded his defense. The two boys exchanged a nod of understanding.

"Fine, it's not you," Celeste sneered. "But that doesn't let your little tart girlfriend off the hook. Where was she if she wasn't getting attacked?"

"Right, listen up, you lot," Flint's booming voice commanded attention before any of Abby's friends, who had rounded on Celeste, could speak. "The whole school wants to blame us for this? Fine. I say, let them. But there's no way we are letting them make us turn on each other. It's always been Slytherin united vs everybody else."

"Isn't that the truth," Lara said airily as several others folded their arms with cautious intrigue. As Quidditch Captain, Flint still held rank in their eyes; when he spoke, everybody had been conditioned to listen.

"And look where that's got them," Flint grinned. "With everyone against us, we consistently win the Quidditch Cup and racked up points to take the House Cup for what, seven years straight?"

"Last year was bollocks," Lucian Bole cried out in support, and many others whooped in agreement.

"Too right, it was," Flint pointed at his teammate. "And a perfect example of this school's prejudice against us. Someone is framing us. Making it look like a Slytherin is behind it. That's why nobody's actually been killed. So, I say, we keep our eyes and ears open and show them why we are the House of ambition. It'll be a Slytherin that figures this out. We'll show everyone why you don't bet against our House and laugh in their faces when they have to thank us for saving their arses!"

The Slytherins reacted with appropriate enthusiasm and began chattering amongst each other about anything and anyone that could now be construed to be suspicious. Several students clapped Flint on the back. Sam and Violet exchanged a look of annoyance; they did not like having to give him any credit, deserved or not.

"Nice speech," Pucey smirked, folding his arms and leaning against the back of the couch next to Flint. "Always enjoy your pre-game spiels."

"Looks like they work on civilians and all," Flint scratched his chin thoughtfully.

"Well, what's a Captain if not a motivational speaker?" Bletchley asked rhetorically as he and Higgs joined them.

"Dunno," Flint narrowed his eyes at Pucey. "I'd just as soon give this one another knuckle sandwich. Don't think you're off the hook just because I vouched for you, neither."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Pucey replied easily, not looking terribly concerned about the threat.

"Look at them," Sam frowned as she watched the boys. "They can't even help themselves. No matter what he's done or how far he goes, they're drawn back to his energy."

"We all are," Violet huffed. "I hate to admit it. But think about how we all always fall in line behind him."

"Like good little soldiers," Lara pulled a face. "Fighting his battles - which was usually his obsession with beating Oliver Wood."

"You have to admit, it's been a bit weird," Aretha voiced a thought she didn't know how she felt about having. "Like, we've all been off without him."

"Since the Ravenclaw match," Violet said knowingly. "When he got cracked in the head with the Bludger."

"That's more perceptive than I would have expected you to be, Vi," Sam admitted.

"You may be more devoted to Divination than I am, Samantha, but I always know when people are talking and that includes about us," Violet replied sternly. "And the whispers started after that match. Everyone started chipping at the cracks."

"We have been letting the rest of them take shots at us," Aretha nodded. "And they even made us start to turn on each other."

"So, what you're saying is, Flint's right," Lara groaned.

"Abby is not going to like this," Sam grimaced.