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4
Term Begins
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Of all the Defense professors to be hired by Hogwarts since he started his tenure, Lenore Black was the first one Severus Snape had no problems with. Mostly because she had no patience for fools, and was, unlike some people, fully qualified to do the job.
Yes, there were a few things he didn't like about Lenore Black. She was a Black, for one, and got that bastard mutt out of Azkaban for another – fair, he was innocent, of the crime he was put there for anyway. Professor Black didn't like her steak cooked any way but perfectly medium-well, didn't eat pork, and seemed to have a problem with understanding that weapons didn't count as fashion accessories.
Though it was funny, at the moment, to watch Minerva's hat tremble with indignation. Why?
Because Lenore Black had not only shown up wearing a formal knight's dress to the pre-start-of-term staff meeting, not only was the woman wearing a loud and proud black and yellow Hufflepuff alumnus sash with both her Order of Merlins on display, along with a slew of other medals and awards pinned to it…
She'd arrived with a replica of the Holy Moonlight Sword propped on one shoulder, to say nothing of the long-barreled flintlock pistol on her hip or the slight bulges that said, to Severus' eyes, that she was wearing a dragonhide vest under the formalwear.
Luckily for Severus, the Hunter was currently distracting most of the other Professors: she was engaged in a rather animated and lighthearted discussion with Professors Sprout and Vector, the three women laughing about something or other. Minerva, Filius and most of the other professors, on the other hand, needed to keep Lockhart entertained and not bothering the Hunter, mainly for his own good – and the carpet's; blood was so hard to get out of magical Persians, even with the proper supplies – so more than a few glares were sent in either Professor Black's or Severus' way.
Not that he cared much. It meant he could snag most of the ginger biscuits for himself, denying Minerva her favorite snacks, a petty revenge after the hullabaloo of the past year.
And no, he wasn't entirely mad at Potter; part of the blame lay with Quirrel, after all. But most of it…
Well, Albus hadn't earned any friends with his end of term "surprise points". Most of Slytherin House, both current students and esteemed graduates, were still gnashing their teeth over that obvious slight. Nothing good would come of it, that much was certain.
Good thing he was stocked up on Bruise Balm and Flesh Restorer-
"Ah, Severus," speak of the devil and he shall appear, in all his spangled, eye-gouging glory, "Did you get the potions to the Weasleys fine?"
"Of course," Severus drawled, ignoring the pleased – and slightly saddened – expression on the Headmaster's face in favor of savaging a biscuit between his teeth.
He'd been in Albus' office when Ms. Black arrived from the Burrow, having delivered Potter to that family's clutches. At first, the Potion's Master had been irritated at the interruption; that it had to do with the Potter boy made it even worse…
But then, he'd been treated to the sight of Lenore Black tearing verbal strips off Albus Dumbledore, the woman's icy tone adding a vicious edge to her cutting words.
Long story short: the Dursley's had treated Harry Potter worse than a Dark family House Elf. The boy hadn't had his own room until his Hogwarts letter arrived, and was never dressed in new clothes that weren't his Hogwarts uniform. He'd been beaten, as well: by the time Ms. Black was done listing the more recent injuries she'd healed – punishment for setting the roses on fire, which had actually been the Black Elf chasing off an Elf that'd been tampering with Potter's mail – Severus no longer had any qualms about making some Nutrient Potions for the boy… who, forced he was to admit, wasn't entirely like James Potter…
And Albus was… well, furious was a word for it. Not quite a fitting word, but it really said something when a school's Headmaster could make a dyed-in-the-wool killer, like Hunter Black, take a step back simply by glaring.
Fair, seeing Albus actually nettled was a terrifying sight.
Though, when it got to the part where the Hunter threatened Albus with imprisonment… well, Severus didn't know the particulars behind Blood Magic, beyond the fact that most British wizards and witches considered it Dark magic – ignoring, of course, that the primary reactant in most wide-spectrum healing potions was freely-donated human blood.
He certainly didn't know someone could be licensed by the ICW to practice the more… esoteric, as the Hunter put it, applications of Blood Magic. For instance, Blood Wards were covered by said accreditation; practicing without a license…
Well, Severus was dismissed for that discussion, but he was under the impression that the Headmaster was on very thin ice, where Hunter Lenore Black was concerned. And if she was displeased with someone of Albus' importance… well, the words ICW audit implied some rather terrifying things, mostly because the woman's influence meant such measures would be implemented with minimal resistance.
Word of the woman's deeds alone could sway multiple countries' decisions, particularly in ones she saved from the Dark, mainly because she was a living legend; yes, both the Dark Lord and Grindelwald were awful people – using that descriptor lightly – but compared to Godelot the Reviled, who'd worked with the Spanish Inquisition so he could, using countless test subjects, attempt to recreate the Scourges of Herpo the Foul?
The two European Dark Lords of the 20[sup]th[/sup] Century were non-starters, in comparison.
Regardless, Harry Potter wouldn't be returning to Privet Drive, something which – once he'd learned the full story – pleased Severus to no end. Even better, the brat would be Sirius Black's problem, come next term; the Head of Slytherin House anticipated the day he caught Potter trying to follow in the Marauder's footsteps. His retribution would be delicious.
"A pity Lily's sister turned out so cruel," Albus lamented quietly while nibbling a lemon biscuit. Severus ignored the comment in favor of watching Binns float through the wall, mumbling to himself about… Giants? That or Goblins.
"Will we be replacing him anytime soon, Albus?" the Potions Master nodded in the ghost's direction, the shade drifting past Lockhart – who gave the 'History Professor' a slightly disgusted look – to the buffet, where several chicken breasts began to rot in his presence.
"I've been trying," the Headmaster grumbled, savaging a corner of his biscuit. "Alas, the Board is dragging its heels on the matter; apparently, we don't have the budget to hire an ICW-accredited Professor of Magical History."
"But we can afford Lenore Black?" the Professor in question was squinting at Binns, lips pursed in suspicion.
"Her rates were quite generous, actually. As she's hardly wanting for money, she agreed to work one year at Hogwarts for ten Knuts, and implied she'd be handling funding and supply for any in-school projects or extracurricular activities that require her expertise, all from her own vault," Albus seemed to brighten a bit, eyes twinkling merrily. "Don't tell Rolanda yet, but Lenore purchased replacement brooms for Flying Lessons; they should be here a week before term begins."
Severus' lip might've twitched in pleasure; those old brooms had been old when he'd been a Firstie.
"Binns?" Lenore's voice cut through the hubbub, the redhead woman beginning to stalk toward the ghostly Professor, who'd been mournfully waving his hand through an unopened bottle of wine, "Cuthbert Binns, is that you?"
The ghost looked up, adjusting his glasses and squinting at Professor Black, humming, "Hmm… you look familiar."
"I imagine I should," the woman bit out hotly, setting that greatsword of hers point-down on some exposed stonework, "due to how often we encountered each other, as you never seemed to understand that my sister, Catherine, had no intention of courting you."
…this was too perfect. Severus put his cup on his lips to hide his smirk of mirth and delight; these staff meetings were usually such a bore, so any entertainment was better than sitting through another of Minerva's lectures on grading.
Apparently recognizing Lenore, Binns' face suddenly went absolutely cold with fury, the ghost growling darkly, "Lenore. Black." He snorted derisively, "Come back to darken this establishment with your barbaric and bloodthirsty personality, have you?"
"Oh, come off it! After all, that personality landed me a knighthood." She scoffed and waved a hand, "At least I never made a fool of myself in front of foreign dignitaries at a Triwizard dinner; poor Felicia Abbot nearly became a spinster, because of the shame you brought upon her due to your drunken ramblings."
"As opposed to you nearly killing the Durmstrang Champion during the mock duels? Did you go deaf when the judges said friendly competition, or is that just nor part of your vocabulary?"
"Those Bone-Breakers were in reply to a Dark Flaying Curse and you know it, Bumbling Binns. And while we're on the subject of vocabulary, who was it that nearly started a Goblin War with his History OWL?"
Just about every other Professor looked back and forth between the arguing pair, as though they were watching a tennis match; Severus kept his face carefully blank through long exposure to Death Eater meetings. This was so much better than Wimbledon.
"Nevermind that all of my theories proved true!" Binns puffed his chest out, while Lenore raised an unamused eyebrow, "The Goblins were and are a sneaky, war-obsessed race that is jealous of Wizard-kind-"
"Why is he here, Dumbledore?" Lenore asked the Headmaster directly, "Comic relief? An object lesson on how to not be a moron?"
"How dare you! I am the Professor of Magical History, and have been for the past two and a half centuries!"
Silence fell in the wake of this claim, Lenore Black staring blankly at the proudly puffed-up ghost; she looked at Dumbledore in silent disbelief. The Headmaster nodded sheepishly, and somewhat apologetically.
Severus just focused on remembering as many awful and unfunny things as he could, so he didn't explode in laughter at the highly disturbed look on Professor Black's face.
"Ah." The new DADA Professor seemed to think about that for a moment, then shrugged, "Well, that explains all the rampant ignorance in this country rather neatly: they've been taught by someone who got a Dreadful on his History OWL. I doubt half the people in this room could describe the purpose of the Round Table, nevermind the real underlying reasons behind the Giant Wars. Well done, Binns, you've single-handedly made the people of Magical Britain as ignorant and uncultured as a concussed Troll."
Severus needed to excuse himself as the otherwise-civil meeting devolved into a screaming argument; seeing him double over in laughter would probably make Minerva declare the events of the meeting a sign of the End Times.
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Hermione was glad to be back in Hogwarts; yes, her first year in the magical boarding school had been… exciting, in a word, but this was a new year, with new chances, and two new Professors of Defense!
It'd been slightly confusing, for Mrs. Weasley, when the time came for school supply shopping, mostly because Ron and his sister, Ginny, didn't need the same books as Fred, George, and Percy, as one of the new Professors, the one who wasn't Gilderoy Lockhart, only taught Years 4 and up; on the bright side, Mr. Black – Harry's wrongly-accused godfather! – managed to keep Hermione's parents from feeling too out of place during the excursion to Diagon Alley.
She… didn't altogether approve of the man, as he seemed a little too eccentric for someone as quiet as Harry, but he had a better handle on Muggle culture than Mr. Weasley, thus managing to keep Ron's dad from asking too many awkward questions.
Even better: he insisted on buying new books and school supplies for the whole Weasley family, because they were putting Harry up for the summer, and bought Hermione some rather expensive books on Magical History and European Wizarding culture! And she managed to convince her parents to try the ice cream, this time!
It was, all-in-all, a great day; she enjoyed herself, and Harry was smiling more than she'd ever seen him do before. Yes, there was the verbal sniping with the Malfoy family later in the day, but at least no one came to blows.
Her only gripe was the encounter causing her parents to put Hermione through an interrogation on the inner workings of Wizarding society, which lasted the next few days… and ended with more questions than answers; for some reason, the books Mr. Black got her didn't have much on British culture.
Well, on that note, Hermione was very glad to be back in Hogwarts. Now she'd be able to do more research into the subject, find books and interview her classmates - mostly Ron - about Pureblood culture, so she'd actually be able to answer her parent's queries, rather than guess about why Lucius Malfoy was so rude.
Though, with how his son acted, maybe it was just a case of the apple and the tree.
Still, 'Where are Harry and Ron?' they were supposed to be the last ones through the barrier, but hadn't followed. And now she was sitting at the Gryffindor table with Neville, the Sorting was halfway finished, and she was doing her best to keep up with the quiet conversation she was having with Neville about magical gardens – Herbology sounded very fascinating; pity she couldn't keep her own greenhouse – while keeping an eye out for her other two friends.
Surely Mr. Sirius Black would've been able to find them in short order? Hermione decided not to worry about it too much; Harry had the devil's own luck, and Ron was sharp when he applied himself. They'd show up in no time, relate a fantastic adventure that toed the line on breaking the rules, and everyone would laugh.
"RAVENCLAW!"
"Who's that sitting next to Professor Sinistra?" Lavender asked while applauding politely. Hermione looked over there, spotting the new teacher clapping and smiling with the other Professors.
"That must be Professor Lenore Black," Hermione replied excitedly, having been heard of the woman from Harry, as Professor Black saved him from starvation and abuse by his relatives, and ooh, how she wanted to curse those horrible Dursleys for hurting her friend! "I haven't found a lot about her, but rumor has it she's old enough to have fought the Dark Lord Godelot."
"She doesn't look all that old," Neville said, frowning at the severe-faced woman. Conversation fell off again as the Sorting continued, and hunger overtook just about everyone's curiosity…
Except Hermione's. According to Harry, his 'great-aunt' had been in an enchanted sleep for three centuries, which meant she attended Hogwarts before the Statute of Secrecy was implemented. The bushy-haired young witch couldn't wait to interview her, ask the older woman what life was really like in the Magical world of that period.
Also, she'd be able to ask Professor Black for… advice, maybe a book on advanced defensive spells, so the next time someone tried to hurt Harry, Hermione wouldn't be left behind. The older witch obviously had Harry's safety and wellbeing in mind, as evidenced by her rescue and that lovely owl habitat she gifted him, and Hermione noticed the Professor frowning at Gryffindor Table more than once since the students took their places; therefore, Hermione felt she wouldn't have to work too hard to convince her – hopeful, as rumor had it the curse was gone! – future Defense Professor.
Some minutes of fighting her curiosity and grumbling stomach later, Hermione cheered Ginny's addition to Gryffindor House, the girl clearly bright and happy… despite her, like more than a few people, noticing the lack of Harry and Ron.
Even the Headmaster seemed a little worried as he stood, his eyes looking straight at Hermione for a moment, before opening his mouth, no doubt to say something silly like last year-
A few gasps came from the doors to the Great Hall; looking over, Hermione had just enough time to gasp in awe as a ghostly boarhound, it's body shining silver and warm, bounded between the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor tables, making a beeline for…
Professor Black?
Whispers sprang up as the boarhound leaned in and… appeared to whisper to Professor Black, the woman's face becoming both paler and increasingly angry as the seconds ticked by.
'But what spell is it?' Hermione wondered, committing the boarhound's form to memory; a spell that could go through walls, and presumably Wards, to deliver messages? And leaving a slightly happy aftereffect in those it passed? 'That's dread useful. I hope it isn't too hard to lear-'
"THEY DID WHAT?!"
The female Defense Professor's exclamation seemed to have a physical force, Hermione shrinking into her seat as a purple aura of pure magic flared around Lenore Black for a second, a few streams of dust falling from the ceiling onto the now completely silent Great Hall; the Muggleborn witch's heart was pounding in fear as the silver dog vanished, revealing Professor Black's utterly livid face.
Hermione had faced a Troll, Devil's Snare, the Chessboard, and saved Harry's life from an assassination attempt during a Quidditch match.
Right now, though? Hearing more than a few of her older Housemates whimpering in fear? She wanted to run away, far away, anything to avoid being the target of Professor Black's anger.
Pff-PANG!
Ignoring the screams of surprised fright around her, Hermione turned a confused gaze skyward, recognizing the sound of a… car… backfiring…
A blue Ford Anglia, the very same one Mr. Weasley drove them to the station in, swayed drunkenly into view, a stream of worryingly white smoke trailing from the hood.
In its wake, a beautiful snowy owl did its best to keep up, screeching madly. Hermione would eat her best quill if that wasn't Hedwig, Harry's faithful companion.
Hermione felt her eyebrow twitch as the horn was honked twice, the car vanishing from view as it passed the Great Hall's roof and headed to the grounds. More distressed honking preceded a distant crash… which was followed by the sound of groaning wood and denting steel.
Which meant Harry, and Ron presumably, not only flew the Weasley family car all the way from King's Cross, they crashed it into the Whomping Willow.
The Gryffindor witch closed her eyes, took a deep breath, counted to five – ignoring the quiet whispers and barely-restrained laughter from all over the Hall – and looked at the High Table.
Professors Black and Snape were already striding down the aisles toward the doors, their faces suspiciously blank as they moved with insuperable purpose, and Headmaster Dumbledore was visibly collecting himself in the same way Hermione had. Once the distant banging stopped, punctuated by an engine revving and two surprised boyish yelps, and the two Professors had left the Hall, the ancient wizard smiled at the gathered students.
"Now that all students are present and accounted for, let me welcome you all to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! More on that later. Tuck in!"
Food appeared, handily distracting most everyone… except Hermione, Neville, Parvati, and Lavender, who all stared at the empty spaces directly across from Hermione, between the latter two Gryffindor witches.
"McGonagall is going to murder them," Parvati predicted, reaching for some ham with a pitying expression.
"That's i-if P-P-Professors Snape and Black don't do it first," Neville moaned, looking a little pale as he stared at the doors, where Mr. Filch was shivering in the wake of the two furious Professor's passing.
"Nonsense, Neville," Hermione assured him with a sweet voice and pat on the arm, doling some salad and corn onto her plate with a bright smile. "The Professors aren't allowed to inflict permanent harm on any student. No, once our teachers are done giving them their punishments," her gaze darkened as she speared a tomato vindictively, "I'm going to murder them."
Or, well, just Ron; this whole mess was certainly his fault, as he was such a thoughtless git at times. As for Harry, she'd simply have to find an empty classroom and lecture Harry on the laws and regulations of the Wizarding World for a few hours, to make sure an event of this magnitude never happened again; clearly Mr. Black hadn't gotten around to teaching Harry about discretion and alternate methods of magical transportation yet, so Hermione would just have to be a little proactive.
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Harry Potter did his best to ignore the twinges of pain all over his body; letting Ron know that he was actually a little hurt would just worry his friend… and there were more important things at hand.
Like the Weasley family car driving itself into the Forbidden Forest, leaving the two boys, one shivering rat, and an angrily glaring owl standing on Hogwarts' lawn. Nearby, the Whomping Willow shivered and creaked angrily at the boys, who were standing next to their luggage, where Hedwig was perched.
"Mum's gonna kill me," Ron groaned mournfully, holding up his broken wand with a whimper. Then the redhead's eyes widened in horror, "Oh no. Dad's gonna kill me too."
Harry patted him gently on the shoulder, not wanting to agitate anyone's scrapes or bruises, "I'm sure it won't be that bad, once we explain that Dobby's still messing with us."
Aunt Lenore seemed to take the House Elf situation really seriously, as did… Sirius. Because of the Rosebush Incident, Harry's two relatives were insistent that he never go back to the Dursleys ever again, preferring he stay either with Ron's family, or, once it was fixed up, the Black family townhouse in London. Sirius seemed nice, and knew so many stories from when Harry's dad was in Hogwarts, as they were best mates – and he could turn into a great big dog! He wondered if Professor McGonagall and Sirius got along – and Aunt Lenore was…
Well, Sirius said she was like Dumbledore, except a lady, younger, and without the beard.
Harry was having an admittedly hard time imagining that; making Uncle Vernon cry just by glaring at him was one thing, but to think that Voldemort would be just afraid of her as Dumbledore? Harry wasn't so sure about that part, but he was sure Aunt Lenore was a lot calmer than most adults he'd met. Sirius, too… even though he seemed pretty, well, caffeinated, Harry supposed.
Maybe they'd understand why he and Ron took the car? He really hoped they did; otherwise, well… he wasn't looking forward to being on the receiving end of either of their anger and-
"What are you children doing out here?"
Ron let out a high-pitched squeak that reminded Harry of a surprised rat. Scabbers let out a similar noise and hid in Ron's pocket again. Hedwig merely hooted quietly, while Harry turned around calmly; no good ever came of panicking, after all. Even the magical world agreed; just look at the Devil's Snare.
Regardless, Harry found himself at eye-level with a rather well-made brown corset. Blushing, he looked up.
"Um," Harry gulped, "Sorry we're late?"
The woman wasn't as tall as Hagrid, but something about her made her seem taller. Maybe it was her pale face, or moonlight-white hair wrapped in a nice bonnet; perhaps it was the shawl, or the fact that she was taller than even Dumbledore, who was one of the tallest people Harry ever saw.
She tilted her head to one side, and smiled at Harry and Ron, who'd finally turned around to join Harry in looking at the tall lady.
"The feast has only begun, children." She said, her accent foreign, not one Harry could easily place, but it sounded Polish, maybe?
Stepping to one side, the woman revealed a path back to the castle, "Come. Good Hunter Lenore is likely coming to meet us, and if I know my charge, she won't want her time wasted unduly."
Harry knew it; she was one of Great Aunt Lenore's friends. They were in so much trouble.
"Uh, our lugg… age?" their trunks were gone!
"What happened to our stuff?" Ron glared at the tall lady, then barked, "And just who are you, anyway?"
"Oh, where are my manners? The school's House Elves have already brought them to your rooms. As for my introduction," the smile she gave Harry and Ron was warm, but her words made Harry shiver, "I am Palmira Lutka, Good Hunter Lenore Black's assistant. As my services are not wholly required at the moment, my position here at Hogwarts is Assistant Caretaker, though I may also be assisting in Defense classes as needed; in other words, Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, I am not only fully prepared to assist my Hunter in her duties as a Professor, I am also employed by Hogwarts and its Headmaster to fulfill a very simple purpose:
"Provide Argus Filch with assistance wherever possible."
Which, to Harry's ears, wasn't a good thing at all.
When Harry and Ron didn't reply, Ms. Lutka gestured again, "Now, let us move this to the hospital wing. You are both of you bruised, dirty, and not at all presentable for the feast. Therefore, you'll be checked over by the Matron, have your clothes mended, and then you will take the, as my dear Hunter puts it, "Walk of Shame". Step lively, now, as you British say."
The night didn't get much better from there, for Harry. Aunt Lenore and Snape showed up not long after Madam Pomfrey finished healing – and chiding – the boys; the two Professors managed to make Harry and Ron feel inches tall, as well as understand just how badly they'd messed up.
"Unlike sticking your nose into secrets hidden under trapdoors on the other side of a Cerberus, you two," Professor Black said evenly to them, calmly looking at the pair of Gryffindors with her hands clasped behind her back, "not even giving one thought to the consequences of breaking the Statute of Secrecy during peacetime, outside of an actual crisis, is most certainly not the sort of behavior I or any member of this faculty expect of young gentlemen such as yourselves."
"Quite." Snape oiled next to her, black eyes narrowed unpleasantly. Blinking, he then added, "Having known your parents while at school, I must say even your prankster father would be appalled at this sort of action, Mr. Potter. But, then, I have a hard time believing your parents would allow you to miss the train, nevermind my incredulity at hearing Lord Black losing sight of you."
"What happened?" Professor Black asked.
Harry told them – with only some mumbled input from Ron – how the barrier had closed, who he thought was responsible, and how they waited 20 minutes before making their, in hindsight, poor decision to fly to Hogwarts. By car.
It was through detailing the resulting flight – Aunt Lenore had gotten out a notepad and called the Hogwarts House Elves for food – that Ron's broken wand was brought up.
"This happened when you crashed into the tree?" Aunt Lenore asked with a frown, tenderly examining the wand in her hands.
When Ron nodded sadly, Snape scoffed, "Serves you right."
"Now now, Severus, let's not rub salt in the wound. After all," Aunt Lenore smiled a dangerously sweet smile, making both boys gulp and Professor Snape grin nastily, "Mister Potter will be spending every Saturday until Christmas in detention with me personally, while Mister Weasley will be attending with whoever is available until the end of June Exams; after he has purchased a new wand, of course. Something the matter, Mister Weasley?"
Ron mumbled, "My family don't have that kinda money, Professor." Harry felt a twinge of sympathy, and was about to offer his own money-
"That won't be an issue Mr. Weasley. Hogwarts can front the money for a replacement wand easily enough." Snape said, surprising both Gryffindor boys; the Potions Master continued smoothly, "After all, your wand was broken on school grounds, and the Hogwarts Charter states quite clearly that the school must pay for a student's replacement wand, should it be damaged on school property or Hogsmede."
Aunt Lenore nodded in agreement, and smiled at Ron, "Fret not, Mister Weasley; I'm sure Professor McGonagall will be able to make time for you tomorrow. You'll be off to Olivander's, have a new wand, and thus, you'll be properly equipped to help my friend Palmira dust and polish the Trophy Room this Saturday, while Mr. Potter assists me in acquiring a few Redcaps for my Fifth Year class; oh, and Harry? Make sure you have your friend Miss Granger aid you in practicing the Body-Bind Hex, as you'll be using it a lot. I recommend asking your Head of House for an empty classroom and Transfigured pillows."
Eventually, after returning to Gryffindor Tower – where Fred and George bowed to them, thinking the whole thing was some kind of prank, and Hermione just frowned with disappointment – Harry and Ron finally managed to get to bed.
"Your Aunt's scary, Harry. I can see why Sirius shivers whenever she's brought up."
Harry scoffed and grinned at his best mate, "Are you kidding? She was being really nice to us."
Ron gave him a weird look, as did Neville, Seamus and Dean, who were told what happened in the Hospital Wing, "Are you mad, mate? We've got detention for ages!"
"Yeah, but she didn't really yell or glare at us much. My Uncle Vernon needed a new pair of trousers after she was done with him; he made her angry, Ron. Aunt Lenore was just a little disappointed with us." Harry frowned at his lap, and sighed, "Hopefully that doesn't last."
"Just don't fly any more cars to Hogwarts, Har. Easy-peasy," Dean got a couple pillows in the face for that one.