Susan Bones checked her watch. Another half-hour to go until the end of her patrol. At least it was almost over. She could not stand spending an hour and a half every other night with Ernie. He was nice, Susan supposed, but his pompousness grated her nerves.

The fifth-year Prefects were supposed to patrol the first floor, which was objectively not a tall order, at least if one was lucky enough to be paired with the Ravenclaws or Slytherins. Susan was not particularly close to Goldstein and Patil, but they were polite and professional, getting the job done. As for the Slytherins, Zabini might be insufferable, but Daphne was a good friend. Susan would try to force Ernie to go with Zabini every time. It was rather fitting, Susan thought, for two of the most pompous people in the school to patrol with each other.

Tonight's patrol was with the Gryffindors, though, and that was like having no partner at all. What a way to spend a Monday night, she thought. Susan cursed Dumbledore once again for making Weasley and Brown Prefects over Harry and Hermione. It had been almost two months since term started, and not once had Susan seen them actually patrol. She knew that they were abusing their Prefect privileges, but she had no evidence to prove it, for she had never caught them in the act. That infuriated Susan, for those two were making a mockery of the very word 'Prefect'.

They patrolled a while longer and shepherded a few first-year Hufflepuffs down the stairs into their Common Room. Every few walks around, they would raid the broom closets. Susan could not understand why people still used broom closets to snog when they knew that the Prefects habitually raided them on their rounds. The Room of Requirement was a far better place to engage in those activities, in her opinion.

The broom closets were mostly deserted tonight except for one seventh-year Ravenclaw pair. Susan pulled them out and sent them on their way with a warning. She knew that some more uptight Prefects were harsher with the denizens of Hogwarts broom closets, but she liked to be lenient. They were teenagers, after all. It was only natural.

When they rounded a corner, Susan suddenly heard intermittent groans and moans coming from up ahead. She and Ernie dashed forward to investigate. The sounds were coming from another broom closet. Whoever was in there had tried to cast a Silencing Charm, but it was horribly done. Instead of preventing all noise from escaping, it simply silenced some snippets of sound while amplifying others.

'Alohomora!' Susan cast, pointing her wand at the lock. The lock clicked open. Susan grabbed the handle of the broom closet door and pulled it open. Her jaw dropped.

Inside were Weasley and Brown. They were both half-undressed and in the middle of a round of copulation. By the bright red colour of their faces and the sweat streaming down their backs, they had likely been at it since their patrol started.

'Get out!' Susan shouted. She felt a sense of vindictive triumph. Finally, she had evidence that these two were doing the very thing that they were tasked to stop. 'Put on your clothes! We're going to Professor McGonagall!'

'You can't do that!' Weasley shouted crassly, 'We're Prefects!'

'Prefects who have been breaking the very rules they're supposed to enforce,' Ernie said with a sneer. 'Come with us.'

The airhead Weasley scowled and reached for his wand, but Susan was expecting it. With a silent Expelliarmus, his wand flew out of his hand and Susan caught it in mid-air.

'You heard Ernie,' she spat. 'Come with us, or we'll make you.'

Weasley looked furious. His face was quickly turning purple. Brown, meanwhile, was trying to look tiny and insignificant. Seeing as he was disarmed, however, Weasley marched out of the broom closet, sneering at Susan, and Brown followed.

Susan prodded Weasley in the back with his wand. 'Don't even try to escape. You'll regret it,' she threatened.

Weasley and Brown reluctantly obeyed, and Susan and Ernie marched them up to Professor McGonagall's office. Susan knocked on the door and McGonagall bade her entry.

'Bones, Macmillan, what happened?' she demanded.

Susan and Ernie shoved Weasley and Brown through the door in response. McGonagall seemed to figure it out the moment she saw the unkempt state of their hair and robes.

'Sit down, Weasley, Brown,' she ordered harshly. The two Prefects – soon to be ex-Prefects, Susan thought – obeyed sheepishly.

'Bones, what happened?' McGonagall asked again.

'We were on our patrol and we heard…sounds…coming out of a broom closet,' Susan recounted. 'We forced open the door and we found them inside…c-copulating,' she finished with a slight blush.

'Let me get this straight,' McGonagall said to Weasley and Brown, her temper barely under control. 'Instead of carrying out your duties as a Prefect tonight, you instead made off to a broom closet and engaged in frankly unacceptable behaviour, in public, during your rounds?'

'It wasn't in public, Professor,' Brown said idiotically. 'We were in a broom closet. It's not like we expected to be walked in on.'

McGonagall slapped her desk in fury. 'And does that make your behaviour any more acceptable?' she shouted. 'Not only were you engaging in something blatantly against Hogwarts rules, you were also knowingly neglecting your duty as a Prefect! Hand me your badges.'

Weasley looked indignant. 'But Professor, we – '

'Now!' McGonagall snapped. 'Never in my life have I seen two Prefects as irresponsible and idiotic as the two of you! Give me your badges! I shall see to it that they end up with someone deserving tomorrow.'

Weasley and Brown nervously unpinned their Prefect badges and slid them across the table to the Head of House. McGonagall snatched them up and placed them in a drawer.

'How long has this been going on?' McGonagall demanded.

'Just today,' Weasley said, trying to sound confident in the lie.

'Bollocks!' McGonagall shouted. Susan was taken aback for a moment. It was so unlike the stern Transfiguration teacher to shout and swear like this. 'I've been teaching for more than thirty years. I've spotted lies from better liars than you! I'll ask again. How long has this been going on?'

'Since the first day of term,' Brown muttered after a few seconds of silence.

'So, to sum up, not once this year did you actually accomplish the duties entrusted to you,' McGonagall spat. 'I am disgusted by you.'

Weasley and Brown at least had the humility to look properly ashamed at the chastisement. Susan made a mental note to never do anything that could hack off McGonagall as much as these two had just done.

'You have at least been using the Contraceptive Potion or Charms to the same effect, have you?' McGonagall asked.

Brown nodded. 'Yes.'

McGonagall let out a sigh of relief. 'Thank Merlin,' she breathed before growing stern again. 'Your parents will each be receiving a letter explaining your conduct tonight,' she continued in her clipped tone. 'You will not be receiving your Prefect badges back under any circumstances. If I cannot find a replacement, I would rather have no Gryffindor fifth-year Prefects than have you two make a shameful mockery of the position. Do I make myself clear?'

Both Brown and Weasley had blanched so much that it appeared to Susan that there was no blood left in their faces. They nodded gingerly.

'Two hundred points will be taken from Gryffindor, each, for your reproachable conduct,' McGonagall continued. 'You will be serving detentions with me every night, during what used to be your Prefect patrol hours, for the next month. Understood?'

Brown and Weasley nodded again. Weasley was so frightened that he did not even groan or protest the punishment.

'Then get out of my sight,' McGonagall snapped to the ex-Prefects. 'I don't want to see you until tomorrow.'

The two of them got up from their chairs and shuffled out of the room, looking at their feet the whole way out. McGonagall turned to Susan and Ernie.

'Twenty-five points to Hufflepuff each,' she said, 'For bringing my now ex-Prefects' abuses of power to my attention. I want to sincerely apologize for not finding out about this earlier and hope that you do not think that this is the typical behaviour of the Gryffindor House.'


When Harry and Hermione entered the Great Hall the next morning, they found the entirety of the Gryffindor House looking towards the front of the room. It took a moment for Harry to realize what they were looking at. The Gryffindor hourglass, which had been half-full previously, was now completely devoid of rubies.

'How did someone manage to lose over three hundred points overnight?' Hermione wondered in a whisper.

Harry shrugged. The only time something comparable had happened was his first year, when he, Hermione, and Neville had managed to lose Gryffindor one hundred fifty points in one night, trying to send Norbert away to Romania. He was at a loss as to what could have happened to lead to more than double that point loss.

Harry and Hermione approached Neville and Ginny. 'Do you know what happened?' Hermione asked, cocking her head at the hourglass.

Ginny and Neville both shrugged. 'No idea,' Neville answered. 'It might've had something to do with Ron, though. He and Lavender came into the Common Room last night looking furious and snapping at everyone. Ron even nearly hit a first-year before I shot a Stinging Hex to his groin.'

Harry grimaced. 'That must've hurt.'

'Understatement, Harry,' Neville chortled. 'He was doubled over in pain for a good five minutes. Deserved it, though. What kind of bastard picks on first-years?'

Harry did not need to answer that question, for both knew that the answer was a three-letter word that started with 'R' and ended with 'n'.

Halfway through breakfast, Susan joined them.

'Hey, Susan,' Hermione greeted cheerfully.

'Hello, Hermione, everyone,' Susan replied. 'You've been wondering about what happened to all of Gryffindor's House Points?'

Ginny nodded. 'We haven't a clue. Neville says Ron and Lavender might've been responsible.'

Susan laughed. 'Neville's right. Ron and Lavender got four hundred points taken away from Gryffindor between them. Their badges, too.'

Hermione's face shot up out of her plate and towards Susan. 'What?'

'They lost their badges and two hundred points for Gryffindor each,' Susan repeated.

'Why?' Hermione asked, her brown eyes widening.

Susan blushed vividly. 'Well…ah…we – Ernie and I – caught them in the middle of…things…in a broom closet.'

'Oh,' Hermione squeaked, her face growing pink. 'Uh…that's…'

'Disgusting?' Susan suggested with a chuckle. 'We brought them to McGonagall. She took away the badges that they never earned in the first place.'

'So Gryffindor has no fifth-year Prefects?' Harry asked.

'Not right now, we do not,' came a voice from behind him. Harry whirled around and found himself face-to-face with McGonagall.

'Oh…uh…good morning, Professor,' Hermione squeaked.

'Good morning to you, Miss Granger,' McGonagall replied approvingly with a dry smile. 'Potter, Granger, Longbottom. Will you come to my office right after breakfast?'

All three nodded. 'Is she going to make us Prefects?' Hermione whispered after McGonagall had turned and left for the Head Table.

'She asked for all three of us,' Neville replied. 'I've never heard of three Prefects. And who would make me a Prefect? Maybe it's for something else?'

'Oh, stop, Neville,' Hermione said. 'You're more deserving of Prefect than perhaps anyone else here.'

'You forgot about you and Harry.'

'It's not really a fair comparison, is it?' Hermione muttered quietly. 'We've got knowledge of the past and we know everything that's being taught in class. You, on the other hand, worked for everything.'

'Hermione's right,' Harry agreed. 'Think about what you've done in the past year. I've never seen anyone who's progressed so quickly. Not myself and not Hermione.'

Neville shrugged and went back to his food. After finishing breakfast, the three of them headed towards the Transfiguration classroom to find McGonagall.

'I assume that you've heard about what happened last night from Miss Bones,' she said when the three of them had settled down.

'We have,' Hermione replied.

'That means, then, Gryffindor will need two new Prefects,' McGonagall said with a smile. 'Two new Prefects who, I daresay, actually deserve being given that position. And I will make sure that the Headmaster does not succeed in overruling me this time.'

'We'll need a girls' Prefect, of course,' she continued. 'Miss Granger, you were initially offered the badge, but returned it when you heard that Weasley was the boys' Prefect. Would you like it again now that he has been stripped of that position?'

Hermione blushed a little and tried not to look too pleased. 'I'd be honoured, Professor.'

McGonagall reached into a drawer and extracted a ruby badge with a silver 'P' emblazoned on it and handed it to Hermione. 'Congratulations, Miss Granger. I expect far better things from you than from Brown.'

'Thank you, Professor.'

'Now, for the boys' badge,' McGonagall said, turning to Harry and Neville. 'Both of you are equally qualified, Potter, Longbottom. I was hoping that you could decide amongst yourselves who would be better for the position.'

'I think Neville should be,' Harry replied immediately. He had already thought about it and decided that he wanted Neville to take the badge. 'Hermione and I…we don't really spend a lot of time in the Common Room. We usually only go back to the Dormitories to sleep. I think Neville should be Prefect. That way, there'll be a presence in the Common Room even when Hermione and I aren't there.'

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. 'Where do you and Miss Granger spend all your time?'

'The library and a few other places,' Harry replied. 'There's a room on the seventh floor that turns into whatever you want. It's useful for…things.'

'Really?' Harry nodded. 'Well, I don't need to hear about those "things",' McGonagall said with a snort. 'Longbottom, do you agree to take the badge?'

'Uh…I guess,' Neville muttered unsurely. 'I haven't read the handbook or anything, though.'

McGonagall reached back into her drawer and produced another Prefect badge and a small, leather-bound book. 'Then you will review this handbook by the end of the week. You will need to patrol the corridors on assigned nights. Your first patrol will be tonight with the Slytherin fifth-year Prefects. Clear?'

Neville and Hermione nodded. 'Th-Thank you, Professor,' Neville stammered, pinning his badge on his chest.

'You are most welcome,' McGonagall said, smiling. 'And Longbottom, your father would be proud.'

Neville blushed furiously and walked out of the room as if he were riding on a cushion of air.


For a world at war, a world where, for the last two months, there had been constant news of Death Eater attacks and killings, the day passed as calmly as any at Hogwarts could. They had Care of Magical Creatures for their first class that morning. Hagrid was away. Just like the old timeline, it seemed, the gamekeeper was away trying to parlay with the giants.

'Do you reckon he's going to bring Grawp back again?' Hermione speculated with an involuntary shudder.

'I bloody hope not,' Harry replied. 'Though knowing Hagrid…'

Hermione swallowed. 'Right.'

Grubbly-Plank taught the lesson on bowtruckles that morning and the students were tasked with drawing a diagram off a live specimen. Harry and Hermione, though more than well-versed in most other facets of magic, were less adept at magical creatures. Hermione received a nasty cut from one when she handled it the wrong way. Harry surreptitiously healed her with his wand.

'Thanks,' she muttered, squeezing his hand before turning back to the drawing.

Neville and Daphne were working together on their drawing. Faintly, Harry could hear their back-and-forth banter, friendly taunts mixed with intentionally backward encouragement. The more Harry watched them, the more he felt a sort of chemistry he could not explain. It was not anything like what he and Hermione had, but it was certainly stronger than one would expect from the odd pair.

Ron and Lavender were having far more trouble than anyone else. Their bowtruckle kept escaping their grip and scratching them, leaving raw, red gashes that sometimes bled on their skin. Instead of correcting themselves on Grubbly-Plank's advice, however, Ron shouted loud remonstrations to anyone who would listen – that is to say, no one.

'If Hagrid was here,' he was bellowing, 'He would have us work on something more interesting and less petty and violent!'

Harry had his doubts about the 'less violent' part of the statement. 'If you can't handle a bowtruckle, how do you expect to handle a chimera?' he shouted.

Ron glared at him in response. 'Stop showing off with your perfect drawing,' he sneered.

'Don't even respond,' Hermione whispered, rolling her eyes. 'He's not worth the air it takes to speak to him.'

By the end of the class, Harry and Hermione handed in a mostly correct bowtruckle drawing. Harry had sustained a small cut to his cheek while Hermione had taken two cuts to her right arm. All three injuries were healed more or less immediately, however.

Neville and Daphne were completely unscathed and looking rather smug as they handed in their presumably perfect drawing. Ron and Lavender, on the other hand, resembled two people who had just gotten out of a knife fight. Their robes were slashed in places and blood was dripping out of multiple open cuts on their body, legs, and face. Their bowtruckle drawing was blood-stained, leading Grubbly-Plank to grimace when she collected it.

'Potter, Granger, you may go. Longbottom and Greengrass, same goes for you,' Grubbly-Plank dismissed them after giving them a once-over, 'Thomas, Finnigan, come here and I'll heal those cuts on your arms before your next class. Weasley, Brown, that'll be the Hospital Wing for you.'

'Why can't I go with everyone else?' Ron protested.

'Because you're bleeding out,' Grubbly-Plank snapped. 'Either go to the Hospital Wing quietly or I'll escort you there.'

Ron shot a glare at no one in particular before storming off with Lavender in tow.

Their next class was Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs. Ron and Lavender, fresh from the Hospital Wing, glared daggers at Susan and Ernie throughout, completely neglecting to pay attention to the lesson. An irritated McGonagall finally snapped, docking them fifteen points each and adding a week of detentions to their month-long sentence. By the end of the class, Ron was in such a bad mood that he accidentally disintegrated his desk when he was supposed to be enchanting a teacup to give it legs.

'Weasley, a foot-long essay on the proper procedure and use of animated transfigurations,' McGonagall said shortly as she cleaned up the mess with her wand.

Thankfully, Transfiguration was the last lesson of the day – Herbology was cancelled due to a sudden rainstorm – and Ron was free to return to the Gryffindor Common Room to sulk. Harry and Hermione returned to the Room of Requirement, where she plopped down on a sofa and opened a small booklet that Harry recognized as the Prefect handbook.

'I thought you'd already know all the rules and responsibilities,' Harry snarked.

Hermione sniffed. 'I do, but it's good to revise.'

Harry just shrugged and went back to writing a letter to Rita Skeeter. She had sent him an extensive questionnaire more than two weeks ago, looking for an interview on what he knew about the Prophecy. He did not want to respond, but Sirius had insisted, saying that it was a good way to fan the flames of the Prophecy. The Prophet did not go one day without printing something on Harry and the Prophecy, and the hated nickname 'The Chosen One' from the previous timeline was even printed in the previous day's edition.

Harry provided vague answers to Rita's inquiries. Sirius had instructed him to set up the article to be as sensational as possible while providing as little real information as possible. Harry found this quite easy. All he had to do was imagine that he was talking to Dumbledore and what to say and not say came almost naturally.

He finally finished the letter after nearly two hours of work and proofreading. He sealed it up in an envelope and bade Winky to take it up to the Owlery for him. Rita Skeeter would have her work cut out for her tonight.


The Dark Lord threw down his copy of the Daily Prophet. It was good strategy to monitor the enemy's communications, but to read this piece of filth was tiring. The headlining story was yet another sensationalized spin on Potter and the Prophecy. And it was driving him mad.

For the Dark Lord was not the most intelligent student Hogwarts had seen in decades for naught. He could read between the lines of that Skeeter bint's writing. Potter knew more about the Prophecy than he was letting on. Perhaps Skeeter had not noticed it, but Potter's answers reeked of deliberate vagary and concealment.

And that made the Dark Lord wonder how much Potter knew about the Prophecy. He had dropped no hints in his responses for the Dark Lord to chance a guess at the answer to that question. That made him even more on-edge, though. How could he fight a war if he did not even know how much information the other side had access to?

The only thing that he was certain of was that Potter did not know the full Prophecy. It was obviously reflected in his responses to Skeeter's interview. That, at least, placed them on comparable footing. But that meant that the Dark Lord's hand was now being forced.

He needed to make a play for the Prophecy as soon as possible. The way things were going, the Ministry might offer Potter a chance to listen to the Prophecy any day now. That would be disastrous. Potter would know exactly how to defeat him, but he would not know how to defeat Potter.

And now with the surge in his numbers from the coup at Azkaban, he could conceivably make such an attempt. He would need a distraction so that he could go after the Prophecy himself. Something to tie up the resources of the Ministry and Dumbledore's pathetic Order both. He would need a two-pronged attack.

He mentally evaluated the preparedness of his force. His African and continental mercenaries were itching for a fight, but they were a disorganized rabble at best. They had the right ideas about the natural order of things, but they were reluctant to follow his command. Those freed from Azkaban were improving. Bellatrix, of course, was back to her old finesse almost immediately. Rodolphus, on the other hand, was still having trouble making the simplest spell work. The Dark Lord was sure that he would improve, however, much like the rest of his force.

What was more, he had the dementors at his command. They would make a useful distraction. And immediately, the Dark Lord thought he had a foolproof plan.

'Draco!'

The boy bowed at his feet. 'How may I be of service, My Lord?'

'Call Severus,' the Dark Lord hissed. 'Now.'

Draco stood up and hurried out of the room. A few minutes later, he returned with Severus.

'Leave, Malfoy,' he ordered. The boy bowed once more and hurried out of the room, closing the doors behind him.

Severus bowed at his feet and bowed his head. 'What services of mine do you require, My Lord?'

'When is Hogwarts's next Hogsmeade weekend?'

'This Sunday. Two days from now,' Severus answered.

'Very well…you are to pass to Dumbledore word that a mass dementor attack will take place in a muggle area Sunday morning.'

'M-My Lord?' Severus asked, confused.

'It will serve as a distraction,' the Dark Lord said carefully. He thought Severus was trustworthy, no matter what the Malfoy boy said, but it was still imprudent to tell any one person one's entire plan. 'There is an…errand…that I must complete.'

Severus nodded. Suddenly, a look of realization came over his face. 'Will the students be safe?' he demanded. 'You asked for the attack to coincide with the Hogsmeade trip, My Lord. I cannot help but wonder.'

'Oh, your students will be safe, Severus,' the Dark Lord said. 'I would not allow harm to come over those who could still be groomed as new soldiers in our ranks.'

'Thank you, My Lord.'

'Yes, Severus. Pass this information to Dumbledore as soon as possible…the more Ministry and Order resources wasted on the dementor attack, the better. Let them plan, Severus…'


A/N: So far, there have been remarkably few battle scenes. This will all change in the next chapter.