The Twins Potter and the Chamber of Secrets

by whereweleftoff

Following up their dangerous first year at Hogwarts, James Dean and Harry Andrew Potter, alongside their adopted brothers Travis and Brian, prepare for a whole new year at school. However, someone, or something, conspiring to make this year just as wild and wacky as the last, and in order to survive, they'll need to keep their wits ABOOT them, eh... Partial redux of the OG.

13. Chapter 13: Operation:Slither In

If you're reading this, much love.

This chapter is brought to in part by Monster Energy Zero and the wonderfully dreadful field of EMS. Two 10-79's (Google that ten-code, if you really wanna know what it means) in one day mixed with three hours of sleep in my 24 hour shift has left me a very dull creature who cannot sleep due to all the thoughts and screwed up emotions in my head, so here I am, writing this garbage at 0334 with a Monster in one hand while the other jitters and begs me to start smoking again.

Seriously, kiddos, learn from me and take waaaaay better care of your mental health.

That leads me to my little words of wisdom for this chapter, which has to do with mental health. Do you know that humans are empathic creatures by nature? We feel for each other because biologically, we know that what happens to others can happen to us, and that helping other humans is a boon(at least, other humans we deem to be in our "tribe.") It helps us survive. It's almost a biological imperative. So when, say, a person decides to take their own life, the rest of us involved FEEL that. It hurts us regardless of whether we know the person or not.

If you, and I do mean YOU, the person reading this, is or ever falls into being suicidal, I want you to remember something. You might be ending the pain you are in, but it can fixed, and your death is only going to project your pain onto others, and us emergency responders DON'T GET A CHOICE to ignore that. We MUST see it, experience it, and deal with it. Your loved ones, be they friends, family, spouses/SO, and pets also don't get to choose to ignore it.

Your suicide affects everyone including people you do not know, and the worst part is that it can be fixed. Please, and I am on my knees begging you, here. Don't do it. There isn't anything wrong that can't be fixed no matter how you may feel about it.

As an EMT, and as a human being who has already seen too much in the past seven years, please… Don't make me see it again. Reach out, get help. There is so much more that you could do with your life than to die for the sake of bolstering one of the worst statistics in modern human society.

National Suicide Hotline (United States)

800 273 8255

Canadian Suicide Hotline

833 456 4566

Across the pond in the ole UK, you can contact Samaritans, a nonprofit emotional crisis support group 24/7 at

116 123

If you don't want to talk to someone on the phone, don't feel like you're out of options. Many police departments employ specially trained Crisis Prevention officers, here in the US, in Canada, AND in the UK. If you are religious, talk to your priest(or elder, or rabbi, or shaman or WHATEVER your religion's holy folk are called), as they, too, believe it or not, know what they're doing. As a not-exactly religious person myself, I have spoken to chaplains on many occasions to get things off my chest and to look for guidance, and they will often honor your request to avoid religion if it makes you uncomfortable.

And if you're too goddamn edgy for a hotline number to talk to any professional, screw it, I have an open-door policy. I don't care if you're Christian or a Muslim or a Buddhist or an atheist. I don't care if you're straight, gay, or even a furry (I might grit my teeth, but I'll bare it.) I don't care what color your skin is or what or where you come from or even if you can't even speak read or write English very well. I'm here, I care, and while it may be for selfish reasons, I, too, want YOU to be selfish and get yourself taken care of. DM me here on fanfiction. Seriously, I don't freaking care, if you cannot bring yourself to reach out to anyone else, then reach out to me. I would rather lose sleep talking to you in one night, trying to help you before its too late, rather than lose sleep because I can no longer help you anymore. I became an EMT to help save people, but I can't really help you if you're dead, can I?

Love and respect yourselves, and each other.

ENJOI, I guess.

…

"Now, be good, keep your grades up, and don't go monster hunting," James Sr. said as he hugged his sons.

"What about Lockhart?" James Dean asked as he hugged him back. "Can we hunt him, instead?"

James Sr. chuckled and play punched his son on the chin. "Please, don't tempt me to say yes, I'm not strong enough to say no."

"I'll take that as a yes."

After the family had all said their goodbyes and Merry Christmases, James Sr. wheeled their mother into Dumbledore's fireplace, and with sad little smiles that told them that their parents really wanted nothing more than to take them home with them, they were gone, the Floo Network taking them miles away in an instant. They were escorted back to their respective houses by Flitwick or McGonagall and ordered to go straight to bed. By the next morning, the nervous energy that had taken over the student body from the last attack boiled over into full blown panic at the newest one.

Apparently, Nearly Headless Nick had been hit by the monster as well. He had been found drifting down a hallway near the petrified Justin Finch Fletchley, frozen in time with a look of horror on his face. It was a good thing he had been out and about, however, as he also seemed to have been trying to shield the Hufflepuff, having his arms held up high and wide.

Brian, it seemed, had come down from Cloud 9 a bit after everything that had happened and was getting to be a bit more normal. He wasn't getting moody and seemed to bask in the acceptance of his friends, rather than fear them thinking he was crazy.

…

*Author's Notation* If the timing of this scene feels weird to you, its because frankly, it is. I remembered in post-editing the story that I had neglected to fulfill key parts of Kiara's story arc that I wanted, and had to shoehorn the parts in somewhere. This is the best spot for that… and may I just say, it was a hard scene too write. Out of all the characters I've created, Kiara is the most like real world me. Her experiences and hardships stem from a lot of what I went through as a kid myself, which is probably why I neglected to actually fulfill this arc in the first place. I apologize for the wacky placement of this, and will endeavor to do better in the future in regards to the story.

*End notation*

Kiara stared out at the frozen lake from her high up window outside Ravenclaw Tower. Christmas Break was around the corner, and Father was furious. She wrote him saying she intended to stay at Hogwarts, to which he erupted at her with a Howler. Thankfully, it had arrived when she was alone, so no one could see her tears or hear his abusive screams, but it still affected her.

Why couldn't he just love her?

It was always like this. She almost adored him when he was sober, because at least then he wasn't screaming at her or snarling mean things at her. the holidays always brought the worst out in him, and he wanted her home so he could have a punching bag. Under normal circumstances, she would have complied immediately. She knew the consequences of stepping out of line, she understood the ramifications of catching his ire, but she did it anyway. Why?

Well, James, Travis, and Brian. They were like good yet bad influences on her, a beautiful irony mixed with a glorious contradiction. Their casual rebellions and their laissez faire attitudes sparked something in her that made her think she, too, could just be so cool if she just faked it till she made it. Plus, they were her friends, her very first friends, something she had longed and pined about for years. Granted, she rationalized her rebellion against her father's wishes to the fact that she was doing this for the sake of Operation: Slither In and to save the muggleborn students of Hogwarts. But deep down, she knew the real reason for her sudden bravery was them.

It was so strange to her how they impacted her. They were crazy, yet adjusted. Spontaneous, yet predictable. Emotional, yet cool. They were the kind of friends she never expected to have made, and yet, she wouldn't trade them for the world given the option. Why? In her head, the ideal friend was calm and soothing and talked about boys or fashion or something girly she had imagined in her head. They were the opposite, being prone to flights of fancy, drew attention to themselves, sang songs at the top of their lungs and actively sought out the most adrenaline inducing, none-calming activities they could find. They weren't calm and soothing, they were frenetic and loud. They weren't feminine and certainly had no room for girl-talk, yet surprisingly gentle and understanding of her feelings.

They weren't the friends she wanted, yet somehow were the friends she needed. They made her feel braver than she was, because she could vicariously stand on her own with them around. They drew her out of shell and pushed her out of her comfort zone. Their attitudes held her up, whether it was by cracking jokes in the face of danger or standing up to the common schoolyard bullies. Despite her being a burden, they held her aloft and pushed her past her limits anyways, and… she appreciated them for it.

She had always wanted friends, people she could talk to about her issues and vent her frustrations to for years. She often stared out the windows of her father's estate, seeing all the other kids in the nearby village laughing and playing, wishing she could be taking part. Her father forbid it; there would be no cavorting with muggles for his daughter. Yet, after years of desiring acceptance and love, she finally had it in her band of misfit boys… but like a dog chasing after a car, she had no idea what to do now that she had it.

Everything she ever wanted to say, every abuse her father laid against her, every idea, notion, and emotion she ever had was right there at the tip of her Irish tongue, yet she found it ironically impossible to speak. She had heard Travis telling Brian that abuse victims find it hard to speak out against their abusers out of either fear or misplaced love, something that his mother had told them. She wondered, then, if that was it. Did she actually love her father? Did she find it so hard to speak against him because she secretly longed for his approval and adoration, even though she knew she'd never receive it?

Lord knows she could have told them every nitty gritty detail of her woes. She could have laid it all out there, put it all on the line and trust they would not only comfort her, but in James and Travis's case, go to the extreme of doing something about it. They already had a firm grasp of what she went through at home; they had all hinted at having dark pasts to her, and she had given not so subtle hints about her fear of returning herself. But hints and innuendo were one thing, actually saying it out loud was another.

The idea that she could have a misplaced love of her father sickened her to no end. She desperately wanted an answer to that question because she knew she should harbor none. Maybe it wasn't love, but rather, fear of not being loved? Maybe it was a fear of what would happen to her if she did speak out. She was still just a kid, she knew enough about the wizarding world to know that orphans didn't fare all to well. She could end up in a muggle orphanage, or worse, sent to live with a family like the Malfoys, who were the Kennedy's closest(albeit still distant) relatives.

She couldn't quite get a clear and sturdy grasp on the thought, however, as her mind buzzed away with a hundred different thoughts at once, all going a million miles a minute. They intertwined inside her head into a large knotted ball of yarn, making such a mess of things that she wasn't sure where she should start cleaning up. Heaving a sigh that fogged the window in front of her, she turned and slumped against the wall, falling to the floor and tucking her knees into her chest.

Why was this so hard? Why was this so complicated? Why couldn't it be as simple as James and Travis made it seem? Brian, at least, seemed to be in her camp a little bit, what with his visions and all. Even then, however, he too seemed to be capable and confident in his thoughts and emotions on an average day. Kiara, meanwhile, stuttered and stumbled through any confrontation that didn't involve talking to them or Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Hell, she could barely get a straight word out of her mouth to Flitwick, who was the kindest and gentlest teacher in the school.

Thumping her head against her knees, Kiara's lip trembled. She was a mess. She was a wreck. A failure of a human being, and for some stupid reason, she felt like it was her fault. She wasn't good enough to loved by her father. She wasn't good enough to be in Slytherin, where she belonged. She wasn't good enough to even be able to talk to a normal person! What good was she, then? Maybe if she was gone, her pain would be. Everyone's lives would be better without her there. Her father would have no one to be angry at. Her friends wouldn't have to carry her through the most basic of social situations. Her teachers wouldn't have to roll their eyes while they waited for her to stutter through answering a question.

It would be better, wouldn't it? Nobody would have to endure her burdens any longer. She looked over her shoulder at the wintery wonderland outside the window and was struck by the beauty and serenity of the scene. Sure, the skies were grey, but the landscape was bright enough to illuminate the entirety of the grounds. Hell, maybe if she fell out that window, she would be able to make that most beautiful thing the last she ever saw. She grinned ruefully. Maybe with the snow coming in, she'd be buried beneath its piles of powdery purity, getting to rest in peace at least for a while before it melted away and she was found.

Kiara stood and put her hand on that window, feeling the urge to just do it. It pressed on her head how great it would be to be numb and free of these burdens of thought while buried amongst such divinity. She slowly began to crack that window open, when something in the back of her mind held her back. Maybe it was a thought, maybe an emotion, but whatever it was, it pleaded with her to not do it. It surely wasn't her survival instinct, as her suicidal ideations had clearly impaired those. What was it? She cocked her head as it if to shake the notion free of the cobwebs, hand still lingering on the clasp of the window as cold air, carried on the wind, chilled her fingers to the bone.

Life it seems will fade away… drifting further every day

Soon, the words of a song Brian had sung while strumming his guitar one evening popped into her head. It was a slow and sad one, written by one of his and James's favorite bands. The words coming out of his mouth didn't really register with her at the time, as she was busy stressing out about her father's reaction to her decision, but now that they were filling her head, they became pointed, powerful, painfully poignant. Her lip began to tremble as they hit her in the chest.

I have lost the will to live, simply nothing more to give….

Things not what they used to be, missing one inside of me…

Emptiness is filling me to the point of agony…

Tears fell from her eyes as she was washed in waves of her pent up emotions. Hatred, fear, loathing, anxiety, and sorrow rose from the depths of her heart as she realized she wasn't alone. The ones who wrote that song knew what she was going through. Brian and James, who sang that song in tandem with heartfelt connection, knew what she was going through.

She wasn't alone.

She wasn't alone.

She wasn't alone!

"Kiara?" a voice called out, snapping her out of her trance of realization so hard that she yanked her hand away from the window and flung herself back from it. Whipping around, she came face to face with a laughing Travis, who caught her before she tripped and held her up until she was on both feet again. His smile was clearly meant to indicate ignorance, but she could see in his eyes a look of concern and doubt. Somehow, he knew something was up. "Getting some fresh air, huh? Not a bad idea, the Commons are too smoky for me right now, too."

"Y-yeah," Kiara grinned haphazardly, trying to hide her tears and sorrowful expression. "Making my eyes sting, hehe."

"Obviously," Travis grinned knowingly, looking at the tear tracks down her cheeks. Nodding, but not calling her out on her bull, he slung an arm around her shoulders. It was warm, and his embrace gentle, and the smell of soap filled her nostrils as his still damp skin betrayed the shower he'd obviously just taken. Somehow, it comforted her, made her feel safe and secure, and after the terrifying thoughts she'd just harbored, it was a more than welcome feeling. He always just seemed to know what a person was thinking or feeling at a given moment, and it made her feel vulnerable and naked. It was like those tropical blue eyes could see through everything, and it should have scared her. Yet, at that moment, him knowing and her being vulnerable felt right, because he made her feel safe for the first time in her life.

Blushing, she buried herself deeper into his side, which surprised him, but he didn't pull away. Instead, his grip around her shoulder got firmer, and without the will to hold them at bay, she erupted into tears. He followed her to the floor as she collapsed to her knees and held her as she sobbed into his chest. Rubbing her back, he rocked her as she wailed like a newborn baby, wordlessly letting her vent her frustrations out. It wasn't exactly the way she imagined coming out with her emotions to a friend, but… in a way, it was better than she expected. As she calmed down and pulled herself back up, Travis held her face in his hands and while he said nothing, his gaze was all she needed to know he wanted some kind of answer as to why she was upset.

After a minute of collecting her thoughts, she heaved a heavy sigh and looked up at him. "I… need to tell you something, but I want you to keep it a secret."

…

With the firm knowledge that Dumbledore and the Hogwarts staff were behind them and didn't think they were the culprits, James, Travis, Brian, Fred, and George formed the "Heir's Guard," a joke group of Praetorian-like protectors of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry hated it, but Ron enjoyed his new honorary title of "Grand Poomba of the Heir," while Hermione gritted her teeth every time one of them referred to her as the Prime Amoretta, the Supreme War Queen.

"Make way, make way," Jameis Deanius, Lord of the Wild Hunt, called out as he led the escort, much to Harry's chagrin. "The Heir Apparent finds your vis-auges disturbing and sickening!"

"Please quit calling me the Heir," Harry droned.

"Lord Heir Apparent, making his way through!" Fredley, Warlock of the Fredwild declared, marching in lockstep with George, Brian, and Travis. "His Grace will find it suitable to smite lest ye try to look at him with feeble eyes!"

"Kneel before Zod," Travis, Chief of Security demanded of a group of horrified Hufflepuffs. "And our Lord and Destroyer, the Great Fanged One, may spare your lunch money!"

"Bask in the glory that is Supper Time," Brian preached as if he was actually reading from the blank pages of the book in his hands. He had declared himself Harry's Top Priest and Head Inquisitor, going so far as to establish a mock religion that worshipped Harry and the 'Great Old One,' basing it heavily off Lovecraftian horror and an odd reverence for food. "For it is in the soup we bathe, and in the stew, we nourish the soul with the colors eyes cannot see! All Hail Harry Potter, the True Heir of Meals! All Hail Spaghetti, the Most Supreme Pasta Dish!"

"All Hail Spaghetti!" James, Travis, Fred, George, and Ron all chorused.

"For if you don't kneel before the might of the Beef Wellington, the Heir to the Lair will smite his monstrosities upon thee!" Brian cried with faux zeal, pointing aggressively at a group of nearby Ravenclaws. "And cast upon you the fate of being locked away for Time to cook you herself for all eternity!"

"Oh, please stop!" Ginny Weasley cried, her face locked in dread and distaste. "It isn't funny!"

"It's… kinda funny," an older Hufflepuff laughed as George, Prince of the Sandwiches, attempted to pass around a tithe bowl as the group marched past.

"Yeah, the Weasel Twins and Birdbrain Potter's done it again," a Slytherin prefect laughed. "They went and turned the hatred for them around and made it a joke."

"It's horrible!" Ginny cried, tears now streaming across her face. She cast a hurt look at her brothers and turned on her heels, running away sobbing.

"Sheesh, what's her problem?" Travis laughed.

"She was close to Creevey," Grand Poomba Weasley shrugged, rolling the fur cloak James had salvaged for him tighter around his shoulders with an air of importance. "The peasant simply cannot take a joke."

"She obviously doesn't want to joke around about this, Ronald," Prime Amoretta Granger scolded, even as she once again tried to peel off the lacy white cape Fred had glue charmed onto the top of her robes. "This really isn't funny."

"It's not," James agreed with an amused shrug. "But by us making this all one big joke, we're telling the rest of the school that A.) we're not taking their accusations against us seriously, and to the heir, B.) that we aren't afraid of him. And as an added bonus, Malfoy hates it."

"Yeah, I bet he's so livid because he hates the fact that Harry's getting all the credit for his dirty work," Ron laughed.

"Yeah, I bet that's it," James laughed, not wanting to start the 'I think Malfoy's innocent' argument again.

"YOU there, peasant!" Head Priest Brian roared into the face of a Hufflepuff prefect with religious zeal. "Tell me, have you gazed into the abyss of the apple juice of the You-Knee-Verse?! Tell me! What have you seen, Saucegazer!?"

As term ended, things had calmed down to a certain point, and so did the rampant rumors about the Potter twins being the Heir. The Weasley Twins and the Three Kings' stunt paid off, as their off-brand humor made suspicion in them paradoxically disappear. In fact, it seemed like more than ever, people were starting to look more at Slytherin house themselves, and a rising sense of mutiny had started to build against the house. A few Hufflepuffs and some older Gryffindors had been caught beating the snot out of a group of innocent Slytherins just on the last day of term, and now there were inquiries into the incident with the word EXPULSION being thrown around.

Silence reigned in the castle after that, though, as the few people who stayed enjoyed the quiet. The Three Kings found it most enjoyable, as they had free reign of the school with the Weasley Twins and all the free time in the world to do whatever they pleased. The rest of the Weasley clan stuck around, too, not wanting to go to Egypt with their parents to visit the eldest brother, Bill. Percy had a strong distaste for what they were all getting up to and made it a point to stay away from the Gryffindor common room, while Ginny, nervous and distraught, hid… wherever it was she went to hide.

"I wonder where Ginny gets off to," Ron idly said as he and James played a game of chess one evening.

"I dunno," James grumbled as he desperately looked for a way to beat Ron, who was unsurprisingly running the board.

"You don't know?" Ron looked puzzled. "Thought you knew all the hiding spots in the school."

"I know a lot, but I don't know 'em all. And it's not like I've gone outta my way to find her or anything, have I?"

Christmas morning came, and so did the presents. James and his brothers slept in late after a long night of exploring the dungeons and scouting out the Slytherin common room, and only woke up at nine because of the frantic pecking at the dorm windows. A squadron of owls were camped out on the ledge, all bearing packages and letters, and were frantic to get in from the cold. Brian groggily let them in before yawning and shuffling back to bed, but one of the owl's, who James recognized in his sleepy haze to be Shadow, Uncle Remus's personal owl, dive bombed the guitarist, bowling him over with a particularly large and clunky package.

"Ow," Brian mumbled neutrally, robotically sitting up on the floor and taking the long broom shaped parcel and looking at James dead-eyed. "It's for you."

"Put it with the rest," James grumbled and flipped to his other side, trying to go back to sleep.

"Hey, get up, lazy ass. We have a morning run," Travis warned, already popping out of bed wide eyed and bushy tailed.

"Travis, it is Christmas Day."

"And we're kids on Christmas Day, we should be bursting at the seams to be awake today."

"Uuuuuugh," James scoffed and threw off his blanket. "Fine. Let's open the damn presents, then. Where's the others?"

"Probably awake and out already," Travis replied with a sardonic grin. "Because they're kids, and its Christmas Day."

James Dean rolled his eyes and rolled out of bed, slipping his feet into a pair of slippers. Rolling his shoulders and stretching his back, he wiped the sleep from his eyes and flipped open his trunk irreverently. Pulling out a bag of owl treats usually reserved only for Wabbajack, he shook the bag to get the now clustered owls' attention. "Alright, scabbits, one time only 'cause it's Christmas, come get a treat, then get outta our room."

The owls hooted in excitement and fluttered to him like a mass at church waiting for the Eucharist. He gave each one a treat, and they politely took it from his offered hand and gobbled it down before leaving through the window for the warm security of the Owlery before their trips home. Once they were gone, James shoved the window shut and joined Brian on the floor to organize the army of presents.

Once they were all settled in, they followed the usual Potter tradition of opening them one at a time. It was a quiet and peaceful affair, where they shared a few inside jokes, but nothing rowdy or raucous, munched on chocolate and slipped into the homemade sweaters sent to them by Mrs. Weasley, and marveled at the more luxurious gifts granted to them. James made away like a bandit. Sirius had set him a treasure trove of more potions ingredients and books about how to improve upon the existing common potions recipes. His father sent him a special owl summoning whistle, that required the user to speak the desired owl's name before you blew into it. His mother got him a full set of magical encyclopedias, which may sound on the face of it rather boring, but as he perused the contents, came to the realization that it was a goldmine of information on almost everything one needed to know about magic, including spells, history, potions, enchantments, and more. He got a mysterious package from a woman calling herself Mary Macdonald that was wrapped in an exquisite and beautiful wrapping paper from France, which contained a menagerie of exquisite cheeses and a beautifully crafted blue and bronze scarf. He got a set of expensive metal shaft pens from Harry, a box of muggle candy from Ron, and a new sketch pad from Hermione. Kiara surprised them all with a set of gifts, giving James a handcrafted charcoal kit she and Hagrid had made for his artwork.

The piece de resistance, however, was Uncle Remus's gift. It was wrapped in plain black wrapping with a piece of twine keeping it together, and when he unwrapped it, his jaw dropped. A Nimbus 2001 sat there, gleaming, with its shiny black lacquer finish, silver footrests, and a custom-made eagle's head at the front that had his name carved into the top, inscribed with silver. The eagle's head had been delicately etched into the sides with fierce eyes and screaming beak with blue and bronze accents.

"That… is a piece of art," Travis breathed as James passed it to him.

"Absolutely gorgeous," Brian agreed, admiring the broom.

"We'll have to give it a test ride later," James grinned, excited at the prospect of having a better broom than Harry.

"How did Moony afford this?" Travis asked.

"I dunno, I thought he was broke," James shrugged. "All I know is that he lives with Uncle Padfoot rent free, but…

"We never are allowed over there," Brian finished. "He has a hard time finding work."

"Well, I know Dad and Sirius helps him out with bills and whatnot, so who knows."

"There's a card," Brian declared, pulling an envelope out of the packaging. "Here."

James Dean took it and opened the card, finding his name written in his uncle' cramped, precise calligraphy. With a bit of reverence, he opened the letter to find Remus's hand written letter, eyes blurring for a moment at the wall of dense text before him, but shook his head and started reading.

Dear James,

I fear I have much to apologize for, my Godson. I haven't been very present lately due to my research, and you and your brothers may feel like you don't know me as well as you should. This is entirely my own fault, and I'm so sorry. I know one measly gift, no matter how extravagant, will not make up for the lost time. I promise that I will try to make a better effort to spend time with you.

I hope things are going well at school. How are your grades? I remember your mother telling me you were one of, if not the top student in your year, and your father brags about how you're the new up and coming star on your house's Quidditch team. I want you to know how proud I am that you've managed to be so successful, both academically and socially. Considering all the circumstances you have been through, it's heartwarming to know you are managing to put everything in the past behind you and flourishing in your new setting. You continue to awe and amaze all of us, and I know you're going to be an extraordinary wizard.

I pray you can forgive my recent tardiness. The work I'm doing is of the utmost importance, I know you know that, but it is of little consequence when compared to making up for the eight years we all lost with you. I know this gift doesn't hold a candle to time spent with your crazy, shabby old uncle, but I hope that it can at least be an excellent starting.

All my love,

Your very proud Uncle and Godfather, Remus John Lupin

"Wut's eet shay?" Brian asked over a mouthful of fudge that he forced himself to swallow. "Looks like we all got one…"

"Nothing," James muttered, feeling a tide of emotions that he didn't know he had. "It's just a Merry Christmas card, you, the usual. Gimme some of that chocolate."

…

"We should do it tonight," Hermione insisted. They had all met up in a new little hideout James had discovered in the dungeons. She had her back to the wall and her arms crossed over her chest.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Travis queried, propping himself up on an old, abandoned desk. "It's Christmas, the Slytherin's might be gathering for a little party, we don't know."

"The timing is a bit conspicuous," James agreed. "I mean, if there was ever a time for any of them to have dedicated plans for the evening, this would be it."

"I think we should do it," Ron contested. "The clock's ticking and if Malfoy's ever gonna discuss his plans, tonight would be the night he would blab."

"That doesn't make any sense, Ronald."

"He actually has a point," Brian conceded. "Mom's a shrink, and she has told us on numerous occasions to watch your tongue when you're relaxed or in a good mood because you're more likely to slip when you're feeling validated. Also, another good point to bring up is that this is the time of the year the staff is allowed to drink alcohol on campus. They're going to distracted and not watching what the students are doing, just worrying about when the next cup of wine's gonna be coming."

Harry nodded. "I think we should do it, too. The longer we wait, the more time they have to plan their next move."

"We're a bunch of children playing a game none of us knows the rules to," Kiara shook her head. "I think this is all in all a bad idea, regardless of the timing."

"So mark Kiara down in the 'Don't Care,' portion on the tally," James cracked at Ron, who laughed.

"Gimme one good, solid reason, and I'll vote yes," Travis challenged Hermione.

"Like Harry said," she shrugged. "Time's wasting."

"Yes, but who's to say that they'll talk about it tonight?" Travis shot back up, standing and pacing. "And what's to say they even talk about it at all? It's a dangerous game, and like Kiara said, we're kids playing it. I ain't gonna say we shouldn't do it, on the contrary, I'm ready to go right now. But I think there's something a bunch of us aren't taking into consideration here. It's an awful big risk we're taking. If a Slytherin student is behind all of this, we're walking into the belly of the beast looking for 'em. This could end very, very badly for us if we get caught."

They all looked down, and when their heads came back up, he was greeted by the ashen faces of them realizing the truth in what he said.

"We're going to be disguised perfectly as our targets, tight?" James asked finally, looking around at them. "If Maloy doesn';t start talking about it, then we can just steer the conversation in that direction. We all know he loves to blabber, so who knows? Maybe he'll just start spilling the beans as soon as one of asks."

"That's an excellent point," Hermione nodded in agreement. "All we have to do is stay cool and play our parts."

"And play our parts we must," Travis heaved a sigh. "If we have even one minor slip up, one small little misstep, we could end up on the chopping block, blood status be damned. Is that clear?"

They all nodded slowly. "Good, then let's forget about the reason's why we should or shouldn't, it's not getting us anywhere. If we're gonna go, we go tonight. If we don't, we scrap the plan and go to Dumbledore with everything we've been holding back. All in favor, say aye."

"Aye," Ron mumbled.

"Aye," Harry agreed with a little more gumption.

"Aye," Hermione almost whispered.

"Aye," Brian nodded.

"Screw it," James threw his hands up. "If we die, we die. I'm in."

"You're all idiots," Kiara scoffed, but nodded her head. "Aye."

"Excellent!" James chirped, taking the floor from Travis. "Now, let's talk assignments. Harry, Ron? You know the most about Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, so you're gonna take on their roles and be the leads on our primary suspect, Draco. The rest of us need to choose our characters."

"Who are the options, again?" Hermione asked.

"We got two more boys, Blaise and Theo, and three girls, Bulstrode, Greengrass, and Davis. Ladies? I'll let you pick first. Make your choices."

"I'll take Tracy Davis," Kiara said. "She's the closest to me in personality, so it'll be easier for me to imitate her."

"And I'll take Millicent," Hermione declared. "She's the closest to Malfoy's gang, it'll make being around them when they're talking to Draco more believable."

"Alright, that leaves between the three of us-" James motioned to Travis, Brian, and himself. "-Blaise, Theodore, and Daphne."

"Well, I ain't playing the girl," Brian shook his head.

"Me neither."

"Great," James scoffed, throwing up his hands. "One of us is gonna have to, and I sure as hell don't wanna. How do you two wanna settle it, then?"

They stayed silent and gave him a pleading look to just take her. James shook his head. "Fine, we'll draw straws."

"Oh, come on," Travis whined, throwing his hands up in the air.

"I don't wanna leave me losing my junk to a game of fate!" Brian cried.

"… Shut up. Harry, if you would do the honors?"

"Right," Harry nodded, and pulled from his bag a sheet of parchment and cut it into two long strips and one short. He rolled them tight, cast a glue charm to keep them rolled together tightly, and arrayed them all in his hand in a way that left their true sizes hidden in his hand. He gathered his brothers around and had them all put a hand on a straw. "Now, draw."

"Yes!" Brian whooped as he pulled a long straw.

"Oh, thank God," Travis gushed in relief, pulling the other. "I call dibs on Blaise. He's black, I'm mostly black, it makes the most sense."

"… Dammit," James cursed, as he pulled the short one.

"Well, I guess that settles it," Harry mumbled, shooting James an apologetic look.

"Guess that means I'm going to need some clothes," James murmured.

"Daphne is pretty close to my size," Hermione placated, patting him on the back. "You can borrow some of mine."

"Yours has all Gryffindor stuff on it," Ron pointed out.

"Brian has it all covered already," James waved them off and pointed at his spacey brother, who had hauled into the hideout a pile of Hogwarts uniforms "Great little alteration spell we learned from Percy's transfiguration textbook. Anyways, now to the plan itself. Timing for the start of Phase One is gonna be about eight, eight thirty, just after dinner. Hermione, is the potion ready?"

"Yes," she bobbed her head enthusiastically. "It is perfect and ready to go, all vialed up and everything. I even tested it myself with a strand of Harry's hair, so I know it's good."

"I'm sorry, you what?" Harry demanded, turning red at the thought of her possibly knowing what he looked like naked.

"Get your mind out of the gutter," she scorned him, slapping his arm. "I didn't look at anything."

"Anywho," James veered them back to the task at hand. "We'll need to act quick. Over dinner, we're gonna have to keep an eye on our targets, of which is gonna be the ones we're planning to imitate. This is gonna be one of the riskiest parts of the plan, as we're prolly all gonna get split up at this point. We need to tail our targets, incapacitate them in isolated places, and secure them in safe, undiscoverable locations for maximum security."

"Can you, uh, dumb that down?" Ron asked, looking lost.

James sighed and pinched his nose. "Okay Ron, okay. Ron, okay. Okay. Watch Crabbe. When Crabbe go, Ron go after. Ron bonk Crabbe real good, hide Crabbe where Crabbe can't be found. Got it?"

"Thank you," Ron held up his hands. "We're kids, we don't talk jargon."

James rolled his eyes. "Whatever. It's called operational security. Maintain secrecy, hide the bodies, don't look suspicious. I recommend hitting them with a stunning spell when they're alone, and then shove this-" He tossed each of them a vial of thin, black liquid. "-down their throats. Before you ask, those are Draughts of Living Death. The dosage in those vials oughta keep 'em knocked out for a good five, maybe six hours."

"Won't that put them all outside their commons after curfew?" Hermione asked, worried.

"Yup," James nodded. "And well far and beyond our timetable of being out and away from there. Creates an illusion of probability, as we will all be seen leaving the snake's Commons and never seen returning."

"It's gonna be really suspicious that seven Slytherin students were knocked out cold and missed curfew at the same time, not knowing how they got there," Travis observed.

"Yeah," James nodded. "And there isn't really a good way to mitigate that suspicion as far as I have brainstormed. I have no other idea on how to go about this. We cannot have two Crabbe's and Two Goyle's following Malfoy around, so they have to be taken care of. If anybody has a better idea, I'm open to it, otherwise, this is the plan we're stuck with."

Nobody said anything, so James nodded and continued. "So, once our targets are dealt with, we will reconvene here, change-"

Travis stopped him. "Hold on, leave the why they all disappeared part to me," he said with a grin. "I have a few pieces of hot items I need to get rid of, and I know the perfect way to not only rationalize why these Slytherins were out passed curfew, but also a means of getting them into trouble if they try to speak out."

"Alight," James conceded. "What is it?"

"I'll keep it my little secret for now, just trust me. All you all gotta do is knock out your targets and hide them really well. Call it… operational security."

"Noted, everybody get that? Good. Now then, once they are dealt with and Travis does his thing, we'll meet back here and immediately go into Phase Two. We'll change into our new clothes Brian has been gracious enough to procure for us, take the polyjuice, and go in shifts towards the Slytherin common room. Crabbe and Goyle, i.e. Harry and Ron, are gonna go first, so the rest of us need to get in advantageous positions around them in common room to observe and be ready to move if anything hanky happens.

"Remember, our primary objective is to get Malfoy to talk about what he knows about the Heir, that is our absolute must have accomplishment in this. Anything else is gravy. That being said, the gravy on top of this is gonna be any other conversations we can eavesdrop on while in our disguises, or any other evidence that provides a clue as to who is or who knows who the heir is. Once we have everything we came for, and hopefully more, we'll eek our way into Phase Three: Extraction. It'll be suspicious as all get out if we all leave at the same time, so we'll have to break it into chunks. Ron and Harry, as well as Hermione if she gets into the conversation, should get out first, since they're the most likely to get in danger. The rest of us will meander on out at our discretion.

"Ron, Harry? Let's talk tactics. You two are the lynchpins of this operation. You need to stay in character as best you can. Pry for information, but don't push him. Chances are, Draco has already told them what he knows, so play into the conversation casually if he doesn't bring it up himself. Say something about overhearing and punching someone today for saying Harry Potter's the Heir or something silly like that and see where the conversation goes. Keep your emotions out of it; Malfoy's gonna say some things that are gonna make you mad. Don't take it personally.

"Hermione, you're their overwatch. You're gonna find yourself a spot nearby, and if there's a chance you can take to get in on the conversation, take it so you can help them through it. If that chance never shows up, but there arises a situation you're needed, jump in and play it by ear, we'll trust your judgment.

"Travis, Brian? You're gonna be the eyes and ears of this operation. You're gonna find nice little corners, watch for incoming baddies, and if it all goes to hell, you're gonna be the ones to create a whole helluva lotta chaos, then run like hell outta there. Kiara, you'll be near me backing up these three and keeping an ear out for anything else that could be useful.

"If things go wrong, try to make the exit as inconspicuous as possible to avoid heat at the point of attack. If you see things going to hell in a handbasket and flying under the radar is no longer an option, call it out and to hell with the consequences; any info is worthless if we get caught or hurt. Just… I dunno, yell out 'Jenga!' as our kill phrase, and run outta there. Is that clear?"

"Yeah," they all chorused.

"Good. We're gonna spend the rest of the day away from each other. No more meetings or talk. Operational security on this is vital and we don't need a single soul in this school overhearing it. That means no matter what, any further mentioning of this outside this abandoned lab is forbidden, voodoo, taboo, you no poo. It's top secret. Confidential. A black op," he fixed Ron and Harry with a hard long stare. "No talking about it anywhere."

Ron threw his hands up. "Slip up and talk about a dragon one time…"

"You're blabbering cost Gryffindor a hundred and fifty points in a single night and almost got Harry, Neville, Hagrid, and Draco killed in the Forbidden Forest. You're damn right I'm not letting you live it down that easily."

…

James, Travis, Brian, and Kiara spent the rest of the morning milling about in an abandoned class on the fourth floor, chatting, comparing Christmas presents, and brushing up on their dueling. Kiara gushed about how thankful she was they all got her Christmas presents, as her father hadn't sent her any, while they all waved her off and said she was a part of the family, of course they got her presents. Travis seemed to take special interest in what she said, smiling and encouraging her to talk more than usual.

If there was any pre-prank- er, rather, pre-OPERATION jitters, they all did a good job of hiding it. He hoped Harry, Ron, and Hermione were on their level, though. He was taking a big risk including them in this. Sure, it had been Hermione's idea all along, but still, their performances in doing this sort of thing last year had screwed the pooch more often than saved it, and he was worried that they'd screw it up again. He decided he had to have a little faith in his twin and his friends, hoping against hope they had learned their lessons from last term well.

The afternoon was a fun one, where they waged a snowball war against Fred, George, Lee Jordan, Katie Bell, Roger Davies, and a few other older quidditch players who stayed at school. James had, of course, led a valiant defense effort of their snow castle, but it was doomed to fail when Ron defected to the other team and gave them both vital intel as well as a tactical edge.

James got his revenge as they went for dinner, however.

"Traitors die a traitors death!" James roared as he shoved an entire bucket of snow down the back of Ron's jacket.

To avoid any odd suspicions, they all joined together for the Christmas feast at the Ravenclaw table, which was closer to the Slytherins then Gryffindor. Not a word about Operation: Slither In was spoken, especially since Fred and George were there with them. They enjoyed the winter-wonderland atmosphere, rejoiced at Hagrid and McGonagall getting drunk on eggnog and brandy, sang carols along with the rest of the assembled staff, and blended in with what little crowd there was to blend into. They all ate their fill of the well-made dinner, but they didn't stuff themselves, to Ron's horror. By the time dessert rolled around, the Weasley's took off, taking their puddings to go as they hinted at pulling a heist into Filch's office while he was busy eating, and it came time to get to business.

With a large collection of vials in his school bag, all wrapped neatly into bundles of socks to avoid them being clanky, James kept a nonchalant eye on his target, Daphne Greengrass. He kinda felt bad for what he was about to do, considering how nice she'd been to him, but he rationalized it as being for the greater good. Draco Malfoy himself, ironically, was the first to get up and leave. He left Crabbe and Goyle behind in a stroke of absolute great fortune, and Harry and Ron breathed sighs of relief at how much easier their jobs had gotten.

Bulstrode, Crabbe, and Goyle all showed no signs of slowing down their appetites, however, as the three bulky Snakes continued eating third, then fourth portions of their meals. Kiara was the first to be able to go after her charge, as Tracey Davis walked out not long after Draco, and Kiara waited an appropriate amount of time before leaving to tail her. Next came Blaise, who Travis, being the clever fox that he was, called out to him to wait, and walked out with the aristocratic looking boy, one arm looped around his shoulder.

Soon after, Daphne and Theodore Nott stood to leave, and James and Brian followed suit, at a slower pace. As they the two hit the entry hall, they split up, Theodore going down while Daphne headed towards the library. James spared a look back inside the Hall to Harry, who looked up at him nervously.

"Good luck," James mouthed to him, giving him a cocksure grin and thumbs up before following his prey.

…

"I have it on good authority that you and your ma partake in a little family Christmas tradition most Holidays," Travis whispered in Blaise's ear, as the uncomfortable Slytherin tried to squirm out of his grip.

"You mean… you have a bottle?" Blaise asked, no longer looking disturbed and adopting a look of curiosity.

"Yup, managed to weasel it out of Lockhart's personal stash myself," Travis boasted, canting his head to the stairs. "Hid it in a little hole I know up on the fourth floor. Now, as a brother to a brother, I wanted to extend the offer of trying it out and sharing it with you, first."

Blaise narrowed his eyes. "We aren't brothers, though."

"Sure we are!" Travis declared, tightening his grasp around Blaise's shoulders with one arm and motioning to their faces with the other. "I'm black, you're black, y'know we gotta watch for each other, brother."

"I am not sure I quite understand what you mean."

Travis blew a raspberry and waved him off. "Whatever, brother. Look, are you in, or are you out? Cuz either way that bottle's getting drank, tonight."

Blaise pursed his lips and looked around for a moment, as if making sure this wasn't a set up. "Alright. What year is it?"

"One Nine Five Four," Travis answered with a wild grin.

"A Fifty Four? You're kidding."

"I jest not, my brotha," Travis wagged a finger and made a show of looking at his watch. "We have, like, two more hours before curfew. If we're gonna go enjoy that fine little brew, we better get on it. Whattaya say?"

Blaise looked unsure but relented. "Alright. I suppose I can't leave an ingrate like you to drink an entire bottle by yourself… I doubt you'd even be able to appreciate it. You're sure it's a Fifty Four?"

"Says it right on the bottle, pally," he assured, and led his fellow student up to the fourth floor. They climbed the stairs judiciously and quietly, lest they garner unwanted attention, and soon, Travis had led Blaise into an old unused classroom, where he made a show of peeping out the door to make sure no one was around.

"Right, it's in the back closet," Travis said, pointing to a supply cabinet in the far side of the room. "Grab it really quick while I keep watch, and we'll head to the dungeons."

"Right," Blaise said, darting to the back with a spring in his step.

However, Travis spared only a final glance to see if no one was really around, then softly clicked the door shut. Blaise opened the cabinet to find not what he was looking for, but an old, half empty bottle of firewhiskey Travis had stolen not from Lockhart, but from Hagrid's private stash. "Hey, this isn't Normandic Brandy-"

"I know," Travis muttered, and drew his wand. "Stupefy!"

Blaise was hit by the spell square in the face, and he slumped to the ground, out cold. Travis grinned grimly and walked up to him, slipping the wand back into his robe and dusting his hands theatrically. With a little more fanfare, he took a small swig of the firewhiskey, as he was rather curious, and spat the acrid, steaming hot swill out of his mouth.

"Ugh!" he coughed. "Gross! How do people drink this crap?"

Shaking his head, he popped the cork of the Draught of the Living Dead he'd been given and poured into Blaise's mouth, massaging the boy's throat to make sure it went down the right pipe. He then stood, pulled a swath of cloth from his bag, and dusted off the bottle of firewehiskey before pouring a little over the front of Blaise's front., then cracked a window, poured most of the rest out of it, and then laid the bottle in Blaise's unconscious hand.

As the piece de resistance, he redrew his wand, and muttered, "Obliviate."

"Sorry, Zabini," he laughed. "But the only thing I stole was Lockhart's notes on how to alter someone's memory. When you wake up, all you're gonna remember was that you, Greengrass, Crabbe, Goyle, Davis, and Nott had a helluva night."

…

Brian tracked Nott as he descended into the dungeons, keeping to the shadows and keeping an eye on his prey. He had managed to daydream a bit during dinner, and he saw that Nott was heading to the Slytherin common room to do some reading on genealogy. Brian knew that his time window was short, so he waited until the prime opportunity presented itself. Nott walked right past an old lab door, and from this spot, Brian knew he could stun him, catch him, drag him, and drug him.

With his entire body bathed in shadow, Brian reeled up and muttered, "Stupefy!"

The bright red bolt of magical energy lit the hall up for a second before hitting Nott right in the back of the ribs and sent him slumping forward. Brian dashed to catch him, and did, barely managing to get him before he fell face first into the floor. With a grunt, Brian dragged him by the shoulders into the waiting lab. He dropped him to the floor as he took stock of the lab's layout, not having seen it in his vision, and frowned. There wasn't really any prime real estate in there, as most of the lab's tables were built solid, all the way into the stone floor with no space underneath. He scowled for a moment more until something caught his eye.

There in the back was a desk, an old, solidly built chunk of oak that… yep, it had a spot for you to roll a chair under it. Hauling Nott by his feet, he crammed the Slytherin into it, propping his head up in the corner and curling his knees up into his chest. With the clock ticking, he popped the cork on his vial and slugged it down Theo's throat, and repocketed the vial to prevent a trail of evidence being left behind.

"Nighty night," he whispered. "I dunno what Travis has in store for you, Snake, but knowing my brother, I doubt it's something you'd be wise to fight against."

…

Tracey Davis had decided to take a walk around the castle grounds, much to Kiara's chagrin. Being outside in the cold sucked, especially since Kiara hadn't brought her coat and the fact that it made her trailing Tracey way more obvious. Shirking through the bushes as they both stalked into what was colloquially known as the Lover's Quad, the place where most couples came after hours to get the physical affection time in.

Kiara perked up a bit, as this would be perfect for her ambush. She could nail Tracey as she passed by a door, and never even give away her position from the shadows. With the plan forming in her head, the Irish girl steadily snuck forward, waiting for the opportune time to strike, when-

"I'm sorry I'm late," Tracey whispered with a tone of excitement.

"That's alright. Merry Christmas, Beautiful," came a male voice, followed by the sounds of squishing and squelching- were they kissing!?

"Merry Christmas! Merlin's Beard I missed that," Tracye cooed, and as Kiara came around a corner just enough to get a pretty good view without giving herself away, her jaw dropped. There, standing in each other's arms, was Tracey Davis, being hugged tight at the waist by an older Hufflepuff boy who she thought was maybe a fourth or fifth year.

"Me, too," he laughed, and kissed her again sloppily. Kiara's stomach heaved at the sight, and she had to back away and cover her mouth.

"I wish we didn't have to meet like this," Tracey said whimsically. "But if my father ever found out I was in love with an older boy, and a muggleborn Hufflepuff at that, I'd be disowned…"

"It's alright, Trayby," the Hufflepuff soothed, rubbing her back. "Just knowing you love me is enough."

Kiara scowled. Trayby? What in the nine blood soaked, processed hells sort of pet name was that? This was… well, this was wrong on so many levels. Tracey was twelve, the same age as her! And she was out here, in the cold, snogging an older boy like she was the Juliet to his Romeo!? What the hell?!

"Stupefy!" Kiara thundered suddenly, hitting Tracey in the back. The boy looked shocked and scared, catching his secret girlfriend and falling backwards into the snow-packed walkway.

"No!" he cried. "It's the Heir! Please, don't hurt her!"

"Stupefy!" Kiara casted again, hitting the dunce square between the eyes. She sneered down at the two, wondering what she should do with them now. She figured she could probably split the potion in two, knock them both out for two to three hours a piece.

"What a bunch of creeps," she scoffed, crossing her arms. "Seriously she's twelve, lad! And lassie, you really ought to know better than to date an older boy at your age," she chided the two unconscious lovers as she started dragging them into the door behind them. "It's disgusting, its unnatural! She's barely into puberty!"

Kiara had them in the door to the southern reach when she hit something solid, but definitely… not a stone wall. Reeling around, she was caught in the grip of none other than the Dreadmaster of Potions Class himself, Severus Snape. He stared hard and long down his long, crooked nose at her, and she felt herself pee a little.

Play it cool play it cool play it cool, she urged herself. What would James do in this situation!?

"Miss Kennedy," his cold, nasally voice finally said, after taking in what he was seeing. "What… exactly do you think you're doing?"

Oh God Oh God Oh God.

"Um… well, you s-see, Professor…"

"I'm listening."

"Thing is, Professor, these two are secret boyfriend and girlfriend, and I caught them in the Lover's Quad, and they had a fight! A lover's s-s-spat! He knocked her out in anger, and I reacted! I used that spell you showed us at the dueling club, and knocked him out, too! I was dragging them in here to get them out of the cold, and then I was going to get help."

"I see," Snape sneered, looking a little disbelieving. "Tell me, Miss Kennedy, what makes you think they are… lovers?"

Kiara reeled as she tried to make up a story and settled on just… telling the truth, James Dean Potter style. The truth that harbored omitted details and some embellishment, of course.

Sometimes, instead of lying, James preached to her in her head, as she remembered his lessons on how to get away with things. "The secret is to tell the truth, but not the whole truth, and embellish the details so it sounds interesting enough to pull attention away from the omitted facts."

"Well, sir, I was walking around the grounds, taking in the scenery," she started, omitting the fact that Tracey Davis was the scenery she was observing. "And I heard them talking and found it odd, so I came over to see what was going on. They were kissing, I saw it with my own two eyes, and then he- he got a little…"

"…Yes?"

"Handsy?"

"Handsy."

"Handsy," Kiara agreed enthusiastically.

"And what happened?" Snape pressed, seeming to go along with the story, for now. Alright, time for the exaggeration.

"And then she pushed him off, saying it wasn't right, that she was too young, and he got mad. He shoved her and tried to nab her, and that's when she drew her wand on him. He drew too, and he zapped her! So, after watching you stun Lockhart so well, I decided to try and help her, and used the same spell you used against Professor Lockhart."

"It worked, obviously," Snape muttered, looking down at the two. He sneered at Tracey and muttered something about fifty points from Slytherin, and then a hundred points from Hufflepuff.

"And why, pray tell, where you walking around without a jacket on, Miss Kennedy?"

Kiara paled. She had… forgotten to take that into account. "Um… I forgot it? I wasn't going to be out long, anyways, so I figured I would just skip it and go."

Snape raised an eyebrow menacingly but considered it for a moment. "I do seem to remember your father being rather hotblooded… yes… Very good work, Miss Kennedy. You may have saved Miss Davis a lifetime of trauma… five points to Ravenclaw, remiss as I am to give it. Leave them to me, I'll take them to the Hospital Wing. You go back to your common room, quickly. You know it's not safe to be wandering around the castle alone."

"Of course, sir," Kiara nodded, shaking as she knew this wasn't a part of the plan, but in utter disbelief her story worked.

She marched away, her head hung low and hoping beyond hope she hadn't just shot everything they had worked so hard for to hell. She was around the corner when she heard Snape levitate their stunned bodies, and he muttered. "Seriously, Miss Davis, a Hufflepuff? You decided to waste it all on a Hufflepuff?"

…

Daphne stepped into the library to find it completely devoid of all life besides her. She grinned and stretched, arching her arms well over her head and popping her back as she did so. She loved the quiet and the alone time almost as much as she loved the reading, and for added coziness, marched all the way to back of the common area in the library, to the table that was hidden from view of anybody coming in. She dropped her bag quietly on the tabletop, still respecting the sanctity of the library's omnipresent silence, and roamed the shelves of tomes on the shelves, looking for a title that piqued her interest.

Gallivanting Tales of Gallantry, The Implications of the Goblin Revolts, Potions, Poisons, and Poultices, and her new favorite title, Wild Witches Willing to Wile Wonders: A Salem Witch Tale, all passed beneath her inquisitive finger tips as she perused the selections looking for something proper to standout. She finally found one that caught her eye, a spicy looking nonfiction account of… well, she blushed, something she was probably not old enough to read about, in any case.

She wondered why it wasn't in the Restricted Section, or even in the school at all, as she clutched the risqué book to her chest. She ambled back to the table and settled in, cheeks flushing as she opened the book and began reading up on a subject her mother had avoided talking to her about ever since she first had heard the word 'sex.' Her eyes twinkled as she read up on how it worked, where things went, and, oh-

She never would have imagined one would look like that!

Her cheeks got rosier and rosier the more she read, as her nose got closer and closer to the page. She was so engrossed in the book that she never saw the shadow creep around the corner of the last bookshelf, nor the boy the shadow belonged to as he watched her. She turned the page, startled to realize that she had made it to page forty, when a screeching bolt of red light slammed into her side.

Daphne's body went slack and she dropped face first into the padded pages of the book. James Dean Potter stepped out the shadows and lowered his wand, pursing his lips as he gently removed her head from the pages and set it down on her folded arms, sparing a glance at what she'd been reading.

"Sorry about that-" he muttered before balking at what he saw. "Wooooow. No wonder you wanted to be alone…"

…

Crabbe and Goyle and Millicent all waited until the feast was officially over to get up and finally leave. While Crabbe and Goyle piled heaps and mounds of sweets into their arms to take with them, Millicent merely belched and stood, walking out of the Great Hall and turning to go downstairs. Hermione waited until she was out of sight before quietly moving after her. She waddled into the dungeons, and made her way towards the kitchens, making her pursuer wrinkle her eyebrows a bit.

Why is she going to kitchens when she just ate?

With little more than a kick, Bulstrode slammed the doors to the kitchens wide open, electing little screams of fright from within. Hermione watched Bulstrode stormed in, bellowing something that was unintelligible. For a brief moment, Hermione thought she might have been speaking orcish or something, but she quickly realized it was just how deep Millicent's voice was when she was angry.

"Who told you layabouts to stop serving the food?!" the husky Slytherin roared.

"It-it's past nine o'clock," a little, squeaky voice stuttered.

"So what! I'm still hungry! Make more!"

"But M-M-Mistress, we have to start closing up," another mousey voice stammered. "We've been working all day!"

"Who cares! Just make me more food!" came her thunderous command, as a large crash echoed into the hall. Hermione stood from her crouch and marched in after Millicent, pointing her wand forward as she stepped in, when she almost vomited. There, head buried in a larder, was her target, bent over and shoveling… raw potatoes into her mouth?

Cringing, Hermione acted on instinct and yelled, "Stupefy!"

Bulstrode shuddered for a moment, scaring Hermione into thinking she had shaken the spell off before she oafishly crumpled to the ground unconscious. Hermione looked around, realizing what she had done and that she had an audience and blanched. A hundred green, bulging eyes belonging to the faces of gaunt, needle-nosed, short little beings stared up at her in shock.

"I-I-I-"

"Is the Mean Mistress unconscious?" one of the small little beings asked.

"Y-yes?" Hermione whispered, terrified.

"Oh," it stated simply, before breaking into a full grin. "Nice Mistress saved us!"

"Three cheers for the Nice Mistress!"

"I… what?"

…

Crabbe and Goyle had stayed in the Great Hall all the way up until the food started disappearing from the plates. With desperate expressions, they nabbed at all the puddings and cupcakes they could get their paws on, and with panicked expressions, took off from the Hall to find a new place to eat. Seeing their chance, Ron and Harry followed, but Harry stutter stepped to a halt, struck with a James Dean level brilliant idea.

"Hold on," he grabbed Ron's hand, who was already pulling out his dreaded Spell-o-Tape'd wand from his pocket. "I have a better idea. Help me out here."

Harry dashed back to the table and grabbed a handful of sweets, piling as many as he could before they got away. He pushed some into Ron's hands, who looked confused, but Harry didn't bother to explain and led his best friend off in the direction Crabbe and Goyle had gone, and when they saw the two walk into an abandoned classroom down the hall from the Slytherin commons, Harry ducked into an alcove and pulled out his vial of Living Death. Laying the assembled desserts down, he shoved the potion into the center of a cupcake, letting some of the potion leech in, then used his finger to smooth over the icing to patch the hole.

Ron grinned and did the same thing to another, and soon, they had their drugged desserts all prepped and ready for Slytherin consumption. Satisfied, they marched down the hall, walking past the room Crabbe and Goyle were camped out in when Harry groaned loudly to himself.

"Ugh, why did James have to go do that," he whined, looking at Ron to play along.

"I-I dunno," Ron whimpered, looking both scared and out of ideas.

"That was so disgusting!"

"Wot are you's doing here," Goyle's oafish voice spilt the damp air, and Harry turned to face him.

"Ugh, mate, lemme tell you what," Harry explained, willing his face to turn green by thinking about Crabbe kissing the Giant Squid. "My brother's an arse, he went and dumped a whole liter of owl dropping's on Hermione's head!"

"Oh, God, the smell," Ron whined, getting a little more into his acting role.

"We just wanted to go to bed and eat these sweets, but now-" Harry blanched, retching his throat a little bit. "Now I think I've lost my appetite!"

"You, uh… you gonna eat those, then?" Goyle asked, appearing behind his friend.

"Nah, I don't think I will," Harry murmured. "Want them?"

Without a word, Crabbe and Goyle surged forward and snatched the sweets from their arms, gut punching Ron in the process. "Now get ou'a 'ere, fer we mess you's up good."

Holding his hands up in surrender, Harry relented and grabbed Ron, pulling him away. The sounds of the two Snakes devouring their post meal meals echoed down the Hall, but soon, it stopped, as they had devoured most, if not all of the spiked sweets. Grinning, Harry ran back and opened the door a crack. Sure enough, they were both passed out on the floor, Goyle having collapsed in Crabbe's chest and half of Crabbe's face buried in an uneaten pudding.

"Success!" Harry hissed with a pumped, clenched fist, and he closed the door, tapping the knob with his wand to lock it shut behind him.

…

The rest of them had all assembled in the meeting room when they were done with locking away their quarries, and Kiara had just finished telling her story. James pursed his lips in concern, as there were now way too many variables in the equation. It wasn't her fault, that was for sure, but the risks seemed to be upped and he worried about potential fallout on her.

"And Snape bought the story?"

"With every galleon he had," Kiara assured with a nod. "Docked Davis points and everything for her behavior, though she wasn't really able to hear it."

"That guy is going to be in serious trouble, too," Travis murmured. "Even a false accusation like that can ruin a guy."

Kiara turned bright red in fear and embarrassment, but James patted her on the shoulder. "You were under pressure, man, don't sweat it. If nothing else, the two of them will clear up the situation in the morning and you can rationalize it by saying it was what you thought you saw, rather than what you really saw. It was dark, after all."

"Right," she whispered with a small nod, but still looking sick.

"Even if it doesn't turn out okay for them, it was still for the greater good," Brian said. "It sucks, but it is what it is."

"So the ends justify the means?" Travis asked, crossing his arms.

"No, but what's done is done and Kiara made the best she could from an awful situation in an attempt to make things better for everyone."

"Let us wax poetic on the finer philosophical complexities of this situation later," James muttered as Hermione entered the room. "We have work to do."

"There's been a situation, and I'd like to talk about it," she whimpered, looking thoroughly spooked.

"Now?" James whined, crossing his arms. "Well, then, let's hear it."

"I accidentally stunned and drugged Millicent in front of the kitchen staff."

"Oh," Brian shrugged and went back to what he was doing, fiddling with his robes to make his Ravenclaw badge a Slytherin. "That's all?"

"Yes, that's all," Hermione cried. "I don't even know what those things are, but they cheered for me and promised me they'd hide her body!"

"Yeah, the House Elves in the kitchens are cool like that," James explained as he opened his bag and started pulling out vials. "Millicent is one of the brutes who bullies them for food and such after hours, so they don't really like her."

"You-I- those are-what?" Hermione stammered, looking angry, then confused, then frustrated, then confused again.

"What you saw was the House Elves of Hogwarts," Travis told her with a chuckle. "The silent, unseen manservants who do the washing, fold your clothes, and make your meals, all while you weren't even looking. They are treated poorly by some of the students who know of their existence, so when they meet students who help them out or show them an ounce of kindness, they leap at the chance to spoil them rotten."

"So that's what a House Elf looks like," Hermione sighed, sitting down and looking less concerned.

"Trust me," James laughed at her expression. "You can trust them. If they told you they'd take care of Millicent, they'll take her of her for you."

"Right…"

She slumped into her seat and had her existential crisis while the Ravenclaws got to business. Brian put the finishing touches on the uniforms while Travis poured over texts, looking for the most up to date map of the Slytherin common room. James assorted all the sets of vials he had in his bag, making sure all seven bottles of Replication Potion was there and in order.

"What are those?" Hermione asked him, finally coming back to Earth.

"You've seen these before," he winked at her. "It's how I got the potion Harry drank last year to let me through, to… well, remember?"

"Yeah… but what is it?"

"Replication potion," he explained. "A secret little recipe I found in the library. A little drop of another potion gets dropped into these bad boys and POOF-" he made an exploding motion with his hands. "You have a second, perfect copy of the original potion. It's still in testing, we gotta make sure it actually replicates all, or at least most potions it comes into contact with, but I think the Polyjuice potion should work with it."

"You… think?"

He nodded. "The recipe was concocted long after the invention of the Polyjuice potion, so yeah, I'd say with a good degree of certainty that it'll work. We'll find out tonight, if necessary, as I'm giving everyone a vial from the latest batch as an emergency pick me up."

"That's… a great deal foresight coming from you."

"Thank you," he grinned and handed her a bottle. "I am not the most famous for what I do, but the best. Foresight is important in my line of work, ya know? Just don't put the plain hairless Polyjuice potion in it yet. Save the bottle you initially drink from and stow it in your robe with the replicator, only whip it out if you absolutely need to stay in character, yeah?"

"Right," she agreed, and slipped it into her robes. "Where's Harry and Ron?"

"They'll be here any minute-"

"We're here," Harry declared as he swung the door open and led Ron in. "We're ready."

"Excellent, let's get started," James nodded and started handing out the vials of Polyjuice potion. "The password is 'Pureblood.'"

"Because that's original," Ron scoffed sarcastically.

"We've been doing some scouting of the Slytherin common room's entrance," James continued, ignoring Ron's quip, and passed around the extra vial of replication potion to every one of them. "If you don't already know, it's down the hall and to the left. The door's just a damp old stretch of stone wall, the only way you're going to recognize it is when you see the two serpent shaped torches lining it. We're gonna take our potions before we walk out, for maximum lasting power. And take these. Replication potions, our new specialty. Add a drop or two of the dregs of your Polyjuice potion to make a whole new one instantly. Only use this if you absolutely have to; they're expensive and we only have a limited stock."

"How'd you get this?" Harry asked.

"A recipe," James Dean shrugged and gave Harry a wink. "Any questions before we start Phase Two?"

There were a bunch of shaking heads, and he nodded. "Good, then Harry, Ron, and Hermione, you're up to bat first. Bottoms up, ladies."

Harry sent his brother a derogatory scowl, but dropped his Goyle hair into the vial, Ron and Hermione following suit. Harry's popped audibly and sizzled, turning a murky, acidic yellow, while Ron's bubbled into a pee-green, vomit yellow color, and Hermione's doured into a sort of dishwater gray, leaving her face looking disturbed. Harry muttered something along the lines of "no time like the present," and chugged his potion in one gulp, leaving just enough at the bottom for his emergency vial. Ron and Hermione followed suit, and the changes started.

Harry cried in shock, or maybe pain, as his unruly raven hair shlorped back into his head, leaving him with a wiry sort of buzz cut as the scar on his forehead rescinded and his skull expanded. He gained about eight inches of height and widened, his shoulders doubling and his arms, hands, and feet expanding outwards. Ron followed suit as he transformed into Crabbe, and now stood awkwardly looking up at Harry, who was two inches taller than him.

Hermione, on the other hand, went in the completely opposite direction. James watched in amused but fascinated horror as her skin went bright pink, her ears shot to the top of her head and whipped into a triangular shape, her eyes flared a bright amber yellow, and whiskers sprouted from under her nose, which had flattened and split itself at the bottom, flaring into her upper lip. Blue-black fur sprouted across her body as her hands half-formed into paws, her fingernails growing and curling into stubby claws that were half human, half cat.

"Mrrr-EOW," she said, looking at James confused, before gawping at her voice and falling to her knees in horror, her fanged teeth looking positively dangerous. "What happened to meow?!"

"Well," James intoned, trying desperately to keep a straight face from his irrational fear of cats and his need to laugh at the absurdity of Nekomione. "It appears you mistook one of Millicent's hairs for… well, let's just say you're an anime-fanatic's dream come true."

Travis, who had been holding back his laughter at that point, lost it and doubled over in laughter as Brian stepped forward and, in a daze, stroked her soft looking ear. James, who had to screw his face on to keep himself from laughing at her plight fell into hysterics with Travis as she started purring at the contact, making her scowl at them.

"This isn't funny!" she cried, even as her head turned unconsciously into Brian's affectionate head-petting.

"I know it shouldn't be," Travis hollered, slapping his knee. "But meow this whole thing's gone paws up!"

"A dad joke?" Harry scoffed. "Really?"

"I'm sorry," James wheezed between peels of laughter. "I'm so sorry, please don't… ahahaha, please don't break my neko-neko-kneecaps!"

Hermione looked close to tears, and Harry stepped forward to guide her to a chair and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "James, Travis, really," he admonished. "Is there a way to fix it?"

"'Course there is," James coughed as he wiped a tear from his eye, getting a hold of himself. "I got a whole library of books on advanced potions this morning for Christmas, and one is a whole troubleshooting guide for potions gone wrong. Don't worry, Hermeowine, I'll fix you when we're done with the sting, okay?"

She gave him a huff and a hurt look, crossing her arms and pouting.

"Unless you wanna stay like that?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and an amused grin. "It is pretty cute."

"…no."

"Then here," he opened his bag and tossed her a book. "Read this and see if the answers in it, and we'll get you back to normal when we get back. Ron, Harry, clock's ticking."

"Ron, let's go," Harry said, giving his friend and twin brother both admonishing looks. Ron shrugged and tried to pull the amused look of his face.

"So weird seeing Goyle think," he muttered as they closed the door behind them.

"Well, now I'm spooked," Kiara whispered, looking at the brooding Hermeowine.

"Don't be," James shook his head. "Tracey Davis doesn't have a pet, so the chances of ending up half animal for you is low. Travis, Brian, you're up."

They nodded, sparing a final look at Hermeowine, who was sniffling and swishing her tail, before popping their corks. Blaise's hair turned the potion a cloudy, neutral gray, while Theodore's turned Brian's potion a pitch, tarry black.

"Uegh," Brian grimaced, looking to James. "Is it, uh, too late to say I wanna be Daphne?"

James crossed his arms and shook his head. "You made your bed, Space Age. Lay in it."

Brian whimpered, but with a shared look, he and Travis crossed arms, fist bumped each other, and down the hatch their potions went. Travis didn't change much, dropping a few inches as his skin, hair, and eyes darkened. Brian, on the other, lost what looked to be twenty pounds and sprouted an inch, his brown hair growing and furling into itself as Theodore's massive net of curly hair now fell down his back.

"Blegh," Brian sputtered and spat. "That literally tasted like road tar."

"Mine was… alright," Travis said placatingly. "Kinda like, I dunno, unseasoned but well cooked meat. Not good, but not bad, either."

"Alright, you two," James clapped, tossing their new robes at them. "Get dressed and in there. Kiara?"

"Yes?" she whimpered as the two shucked on their new robes and ambled out.

"I, uh, er-" he flushed red and dragged her into a corner and held up the female clothes he was going to have to change into. "I have no idea how these work."

"Huh?" she asked, furrowing her brow before he pointed at the issues. "Oh, well the bra is easy-"

"We won't call it that, its weird enough as it is," James cut her off. "In fact, I dunno why I have to wear it at all."

Kiara slapped his arm. "Because you don't want 'em clapping around everywhere, you clatty dunce. Plus, it's a white blouse- anyone with eyes'll get an eyeful, see?"

"Fine," he scowled. "But the blouse? How do people do this backwards?"

"You mean left-handed?" she laughed.

"Backwards," he growled, correcting her.

"Whatever. Look, why don't we just take our potions and I'll help you, okay?"

"Fine," he huffed, and slipped the vials holding his potion and Daphne's hair out of his pocket. Dropping the long strand into the Polyjuice, he watched as it dissolved into the clear liquid and rendered it a soothing, clear lavender color. He sniffed it experimentally, and noted it smelled like lavender, too. Lavender, with a hint of vanilla and honeysuckle.

Kiara followed suit, and Tracey's hair made her potion take on an amber colored that emitted a strong smell of honey and something musky, but not unpleasant. Kiara flushed red as she smelled it, but James decided to not ask. Kiara downed her potion in a single gulp, ears burning. She turned quickly and without much preamble. She held her face for a second with a grimace, but her transformation was complete, and she urged James to go ahead.

James was not… excited. He did not relish the idea of being a girl, no matter how attract- no, how nice she was. Shaking his head and heaving a bracing sigh, he tossed back the potion, blushing as the sweet, floral tasting liquid cooled his tongue. His skin began prickling and his scalped tingled as his hair lengthened from coal, feather black to a silky, flouncy mane. He could feel his eyes shift a little bit, but then his skin caught on fire and he fell to his knees. He croaked as his voicebox felt like it was ripped out of his throat and watched in horror as his pale flesh melted and turned into a light olive color and reformed, molting it and his bones into lighter, fairer structures. Then he whimpered as his most important piece of anatomy turned in on itself and disappeared, and he was left on his hands and knees, shaking and almost sobbing from the pain as the potion finished its work.

He looked up at Kiara, who was biting her lip with worry, and then to Hermione, who was watching with a sense of amber eyed vindication and took Kiara's offered hand to help pull him up. "How's it- Ah! This is so weird!"

"You need to worrrrrk on that accent," Hermeowione purred, amusement on her kitten-like face.

"Hush, you," James pointed a finger at her, adopting his well practiced High London accent.

"Damn," Kiara gushed, looking impressed. "You really do sound like her, now."

"Yeah, yourrrrr Queen's English is brrrrilliant," Hermeowione commended, wide eyed.

"Yeah, yeah, yeaaaah, erherm, yes, quite, thank you," James rambled off, warming up his vocal cords. "Poshness isn't my strong suit, darlings, so you'll excuse me if I try it out for size, yes?"

"Oh my Gooo-ha-oood," Hermione chortled. "That sounds so much betterrrrr than that dirrrrrty New Yorrrrrk accent you usually have. You'rrrre rrrealy good at it! And that acting!"

"Why thank you, dear, I like to think all the hours spent watching the BBC was quite well spent."

"Daphne's not really that formal," Kiara mentioned, waving her hand in a circular motion. "She talks a little bit more like you, like if you were you but born and raised in North London."

"Okay," James nodded. "How about this? You all want to grab a quick bite, make a night of it?"

"That's a little better," Kiara nodded.

"Passable?" James asked.

"Probably," Kiara shrugged, looking sheepish. "Daphne's not real popular around Slytherin, she's kinda been labeled a blacksheep of the house, so you can probably get away with it. Come on, let's get you dressed, we're burning sand in the hourglass."

"Right," he nodded, and looked down. His clothes were hanging off him, since Daphne's frame was even slimmer than his was. As he slipped out of them and Kiara brought up the bra, he was struck with an urge of wild curiosity. He cupped his chest and kneaded before Kiara swatted his arm.

"Don't be creepy!"

"Right, sorry," he grinned bashfully. "Just never had ones before, just curious. Call it academic research."

"Keep feeling up Daphne's body and you can academically research my foot in your arse," she warned as she handed him his new blouse.

"Spicy," James laughed as he slipped the blouse over his shoulders, and she started helping him button it up. "You know, you can actually be intimidating when you lose the stutter."

"Hush," she seethed as she threw a Slytherin tie at his head. "I assume you can tie that and slip on knickers and a skirt without doing anything else?"

"But of course," James Dean grinned, but internally, he had absolutely no desire to even look at his crotch. It felt weird, barren even, and he shuddered in remorse the whole time he finished dressing himself. Once he had his new uniform on, he threw the robe over everything and settled it in place. That's when he rolled his shoulders uncomfortably and pulled at the bra straps.

"I have no freaking clue how you all deal with this nonsense," James griped.

"What, the brrra?" Hermeowione asked with a dark chuckle. "Wellllcome to the wonderrrrrfullll worrrrlllld of being a woman, James."

"That purring is getting worse, Hermeowione," James gave her a sinister grin. "Did Brian's headpats go to your head?"

"Oh, get to worrrrrk and hurrrry back."

Without sparing a glance back (s)he waved a hand at her and led Kiara out of the room and they marched quietly to the entrance of the common room. She looked nervous and shook a little bit, so James grabbed her wrist and gave her a reassuring grin, earning him a shaky, but more confident nod. Kiara walked up to the hidden door, and whispered, "Pureblood."

"Welcome… home…." A raspy, hissing whisper echoed in their heads, and the wall opened one stone block at a time, the large bricks folding away into the wall as it opened the portal that led into the Slytherin commons. They descended the stairs even deeper into the dungeons, torches lining the walls flickering to life as they approached and dying away as they passed. They hit the bottom and opened a simple looking wood and metal door that bore the Crest of Slytherin and were greeted with the atmosphere of the common room itself.

Green and silver was everywhere, from the painted surfaces, the tapestries, the furniture, to even the glow of the room itself. Low backed, exquisitely crafted leather-bound chairs lined tables while soft looking and plush couches, loveseats, and reclined armchairs were nestled neatly along the numerous fireplaces that kept the cold, underground room warm. Looking up, James was amazed at the beauty of the ceiling. Crystal clear panes of glasses, held in place by ornately molded bronze arms and supports, showed off the waters of the Black Lake, glimmering and shimmering through what little moonlight from above made it through the ice and murky waters.

"It's under the lake?" Kiara whispered, in awe.

"It's gorgeous," James whispered back, before returning to his game face and getting down to business. His eyes darted around the room looking for his family and found them in their rightful spots. Malfoy was resting back in a long, refined lounging chaise that had an arm and back rest on only one side and half the back. He had an arm slung lazily over the back while the other held aloft an ornate, but sinister looking little silver ball, the Slytherin emblem glimmering over the mantle behind him while Ron and Harry sat beside him, trying their best to not wring his neck. Travis could be seen pouring over a book at a table on the opposite side of the room with a clear line of sight to Harry and Ron, while Brian could only be half seen, as he was bathed in partial shadow behind a bookcase, pretending to be engrossed in writing something down.

It seemed almost theatrical, the setup, like Draco was posing for a Slytherin glamour shoot. James would have laughed, but the need to stay in character overrode his sense of humor. He left Kiara standing there as he walked towards a row of book shelves in the far corner of the dimly lit commons, earning a few odd looks and hard stares as he passed. He ignored them, like he assumed Daphne would, and was about halfway to his destination when Malfoy called him out.

"Back from your date with your dirty mudblood friends, Greengrass? Found your future dream husband? Did he offer to buy you your dream barn? All the animals and muggle pets you'd ever want?"

James gave Draco a hard, long, stone faced stare. Internally, he was reeling, not sure how Daphne would react, so he settled for a sneer and a shake of the head and kept walking. A few others chortled at the bullying, and Draco pressed, slapping Ron on the arm.

"Nothing witty to respond with? I daresay, you not denying it tells us you'd love the animals as much as you loved the mudbloods."

"You're more than enough animal for me to stand, Draco," James seethed at him. "You give even dogs a bad name."

A chorus of "oooh's," and "ohoho's," erupted from the diss, but Draco just smirked and winked at him… flirtatiously. Something in James's gut revolted, turning itself upside down in disgust. James scoffed at him and turned heel to march towards his chosen position, going back to ignoring the odd looks. Settling into his spot, he began actively working to eavesdrop on Malfoy's and everyone else's conversations. Most were murmuring quietly to themselves, though, so it was hard to pick up anything useful.

Draco, however, was hard not to overhear.

"Anyways, like I was saying, Crabbe," said Malfoy, snickering. "If you feel so bad, go up to the hospital wing and get checked out. While you're up there, give all those Mudbloods a kick from me. You know, I'm surprised the Daily Prophet hasn't reported all these attacks yet," he went on thoughtfully. "Did you know the Governor's told him to keep it quiet? I suppose Dumbledore wanted to go public, but they won't let 'em, wanting to keep it hushed up. He'll be sacked if it doesn't stop soon. Father's always said old Dumbledore's the worst thing that's ever happened to this place. He loves Muggle-borns. A decent headmaster would never've let slime like that Creevey in."

Malfoy started taking pictures with an imaginary camera and did a cruel but accurate impression of Colin: "'Potter, can I have your picture, Potter? Can I have your autograph? Can I lick your shoes, please, Potter?"'

He dropped his hands and looked at Harry and Ron. "What's the matter with you two?"

Far too late, Harry and Ron forced themselves to laugh, but Malfoy seemed satisfied; Crabbe and Goyle were always slow on the uptake, so either Harry and Ron were incredibly good actors(not) or they were absolutely blowing it. James looked down at his new body with a scowl. He really should've just slapped Ron and Harry on the sidelines and had him and Travis take the lead roles…

"Saint Potter, the Mudbloods' friend," said Malfoy slowly. "He's another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around with that jumped up Granger Mudblood. And people think he's Slytherin's heir!" Harry and Ron waited with bated breath: Malfoy was surely seconds away from telling them it was him, but then "I wish I knew who it is," said Malfoy petulantly. "I could help them."

Ron's jaw dropped so that Crabbe looked even more clueless than usual. Fortunately, Malfoy didn't notice, and Harry, thinking faster than his friend, said, "You must have some idea who's behind it all…"

"You know I haven't, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you?" Malfoy snapped, looking irritated at apparently having to repeat himself. "And Father won't tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened, either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet, and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing; the last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. It's only a matter of time before one of them actually ends up killed. I hope it's Granger. That'd be delicious!"

Ron's face went red, and James silently pleaded with him to just go along with it and agree.

"Or maybe Barker," Harry added, poorly giving away a nervous guffaw and discreetly kicking Ron's shin.

Draco's cold gray eyes twinkled at the implications. "Just imagine the look on Bird Brain's face, knowing his mongrel brother is dead! Hahaha, nice one, Goyle."

Ron was clenching Crabbe's gigantic fists. Feeling that it would be a bit of a giveaway if Ron punched Malfoy, James whipped out his wand and whispered a little jinx he learned to slap him on the back of the head, shooting him a warning look and a stern head shake.

"D'you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?" Harry asked, trying to steer the subject along.

"Oh, yeah… whoever it was got expelled," said Malfoy. "It was all hushed up, though. They're probably still in Azkaban."

"Azkaban?" said Harry, puzzled.

"Yes, Goyle, Azkaban. The wizard prison?" said Malfoy, looking at him in disbelief "Honestly, if you were any dumber, you'd be a bloody rock…" He shifted restlessly in his chair looked at them conspiratorially. "Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the school needs ridding of all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he's got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor again last week?"

Harry had tried to force Goyle's dull face into a look of concern, but from what James could see, it mostly just made him look constipated.

"Yeah… Luckily, they didn't find much. Father's got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff. But luckily, we've got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor…"

James toned Malfoy out. They'd gotten their answer and more, and he looked at his wristwatch. Harry and Ron still had a solid thirty minutes before they were due for either a ditch or a reup, and James had about forty. He turned and gazed around the room, looking for anything odd or suspicious. All he found was Marcus Flint staring lecherously at him, a gaggle of Slytherin girls practicing their various forms of fire-starting charms on some half-burned candles, and various other students just going about their business like normal, most heading off towards bed.

James heaved a sigh and decided to call it a wash. He waited until Flint was looking away before he caught Travis's eye. He made a subtle swiping motion, dragging his fingertips across his porcelain neck and shaking his head, tapping his temple with two fingers from his right hand then making an upright swirling motion. Kill it, I think this is a wash.

Travis nodded in agreement, and mimicked the hand sign to Brian, who also nodded. James walked up to Kiara, who had propped herself up in a chair nearby Harry and Ron, pretending to tend to her nails. He tapped her on the shoulder and leaned down to whisper, "Get out when you can. Don't rush the door and wait until Harry and Ron are out first."

She nodded, sending Tracey's thin, silken hair to drag across his cheek slightly. He ignored the pleasant sensation and stared hard at Ron and Harry, willing one of them to look away from Malfoy. Ron looked up first, and James mouthed, "Get out."

Ron nodded gleefully and stood suddenly, holding his stomach. "Ho," he cried, doing his best to look sick. "I- gotta run, need medicine!"

Malfoy looked shocked as Harry and Ron bolted out of the common room but shrugged and pursed out his lower lip before going back to staring at his silver ball in silence. Travis waited a minute before snapping his book closed and stood, stretching, before nonchalantly walking to the exit when nobody was looking. Brian followed suit. Theodore was a quiet, introverted kid, so he was pretty much invisible. James tapped Kiara's shoulder, indicating it was her turn, and she shambled her way out while James gave one last look around.

Flint was staring at him again, and it made him real uncomfortable to have that sorta heat aimed at him. James gulped, and pondered his options. He could just go, possibly earning the ugly dude's suspicion. Or he could confront him, but the way Marcus was glaring, he doubted the guy wanted to talk things out. James was pretty sure he could outduel the bastard if it came down to it, but then again, he wasn't exactly using Daphne's wand, and he didn't want to arouse suspicion, nor did he want to leave a remarkable impression of Daphne having really, truly been there in the common room as she wouldn't know any of this had happened.

What else could he do…? James looked around, pondering what he could possibly do, when he saw his golden ticket. Flora and Hestia Carrow, the third set of twins in his own year, were walking towards the dorms. He quickly moved to follow them. Flint, eyes wide at the realization the object of ire(or maybe desire) was getting away and moved to intercept, but the eagle eyed Hestia caught on to James's fear and Flint's cruel gaze and thankfully saved his ever loving hide.

"Oh, hey Daphne!" she said with a forced smile, sending Flint a death glare. "We were just about to head to the dorms for the night. Care to join us?"

"Please," James said with relief, looking over his shoulder at the scowling Marcus Flint, who huffed and stalked away, back to the boys' dormitories.

"You're in the clear, love," Flora bucked her chin at the retreating Flint's back.

"You have no idea how much I appreciate that," James smiled.

"You may not be an ideal Slytherin," Hestia said stiffly. "But we girls need to stick together, know what I mean?"

"Oh, yes, I most assuredly do," James nodded, feigning knowledge. "I owe you one."

Flora and Hestia grinned at each other, and without another word, walked away. James gave a quick look around, and seeing nobody looking his way, slinked out of the commons and into the dungeons proper, putting as much distance as he could from both Flint, and the entire ordeal, as he could.

…

"So… it wasn't him, then?" Hermione asked as she handed James, still in the form of Daphne but happily dressed in his own clothes, pointing at a potion recipe.

"No, it wasn't," Harry sighed, looking lost.

"I, for one, can't believe it," Ron threw his arms up, but grinned. "But it wasn't a total wash. First thing tomorrow I'm writing Dad to tell him to look under that trap door the next time he raid's Malfoy's house."

"And we know that it's happened before, in relatively recent history," Travis said, holding a finger up as he crossed his arms and leaned against a wall. "The library keeps detailed records of almost every issue of the Daily Prophet going back centuries. We can look through them and see if we can't find any information on that."

"I'll help," Harry volunteered, now freshly back in his form. "We got all the rest of break to find it."

"Hmm," James hummed to himself as he read the recipe for the de-changing potion Hermione found. "Interesting…"

"It can't take too long to find," Brian pointed out. "They're kept in chronological order, so all we gotta do is skim through until we find the article."

"But didn't Malfoy say it was hushed up back then?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, but there has to be something," Travis insisted. "Hushed up doesn't mean nothing was said, it just means information was covered up. There could be some context clues there that can give us a better idea of who to look for."

"What do you think?" Harry asked James, who wasn't paying attention, engrossed in reading the recipe.

"Harry, do you have the invisibility cloak on you?"

"… yes…? But what do you think?"

"Think about what?" James asked in consternation. "Of the fact you have the cloak? Brilliant, excellent foresight. Can we have it, now, please?"

Harry shook his head. "Have you not heard a thing anybody has just said in the last five minutes?"

"No," James admitted, pointing at the book. "I'm working on getting Hermeowine back to normal."

"Pllllease stop callllling me that."

"We are talking about looking for any articles about the heir opening the Chamber fifty years ago," Travis explained breezily.

"Oh, yeah, we can start on doing that tomorrow. Was gonna suggest it. Anyways, Brian, Travis, we need to move Hermeowione outta here and to the lab across the dungeon, where I got my potions' stuff set up. We'll get her there under the cloak, and then you two will use it to get back to Ravenclaw and grab the rest of my potions books, the new ingredients Sirius gifted me, and a boatload of caffeine. It's gonna be a long night."

"Are we not gonna have a more detailed post-op debriefing?" Travis asked.

"No, we all heard everything we needed to. Malfoy's a bust, but we have our lead."

"What about us?" Harry asked, pointing at Ron and Kiara.

"Go to bed," James shrugged. "No sense all of us losing sleep over this. It's gonna be another week before Hermeowione's normal, so we are gonna have to hide her away in my lab while I brew the potion, which means you two have a new mission starting tomorrow; cover for her. Tell people she got an urgent letter after dinner, calling her home for a family emergency. We'll take care of the rest."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," James yawned, and looked at his watch. "It's almost curfew, go on, get outta here."

Ron and Harry each gave her a pat on the shoulder, said their goodbyes, and ambled out. Kiara, however, stayed put. "I'm gonna stick around, if that's okay?"

"Sure," James shrugged. "It's your sleep you're losing."

They bundled Hermione up in the cloak Harry left and James marched them to his lab. It was on the other side of the dungeons, so it was a bit of a hike, and they hid every time a Slytherin, ghost, or Prefect came strolling around, but they eventually managed to make it. James was back in his body by then and couldn't say he missed Daphne's all that much. Walking felt a lot more normal with the boys back around.

When they reached the lab he'd taken over, he casted a look around, then brought out his wand, tapping the door jam three times. It unlocked with a soft click, and he pushed in, letting the rest come in and softly shutting it behind him before Hermeowione had a chance to take the cloak off. With a whisper and a flick of his wrist the candles in the room were lit, and he immediately got started on prepping his potions gear.

"Right," he said. "Brian? Travis? Take the cloak. Get back to Ravenclaw and get the books and the stuff. Be quiet, be quick, try to stay invisible. Tell no one, talk to as few people as possible."

"We got it," Travis assured him. "It's not our first rodeo. C'mon, Space Age, we're on mission."

They slinked out of the lab as James got to work on getting everything ready. Kiara and Hermeowione watched silently, but they weren't given much of a show. It was all in order fast, with burners lit and water rolling, and he turned to them with a grim look on his face.

"Alright, ladies," he declared with a clap and rubbing his hands. "Let's get to work."