AN: The usual fanfiction disclaimers apply to the whole story, recognised portions of Harry Potter, be they quotes, characters, scenes or other belong to the original author.

Harry Potter AU/Wild Winds AU: The first incarnation of my own Megan Jones spawned from reading Harry Lefferts' Harry Potter and the Shipgirls as the KARAS OVA series fitted in well with it and I wanted a character that could wind up in Hogwarts but know about shipgirls. Her (at that point) grandfather was the KARAS and met with William D Porter in Plymouth before actually dealing with the mikura (robo-demon) she encountered at ten.

The Winds setting developed from snippets written for the List of Things Involving Shipgirls that are not Allowed (most in Queen Pearl's continuation). It sort of went What If Britain had Fusion tech by the end of WWI but tried keeping it hidden, what if myth was real, what if the reason for the abyssals in Kancolle was the 'normal' ending for NecroVision (FPS in WWI where Germany nearly starts a zombie apocalypse opening a hell gate).

This sort of brings Megan to her roots, though several things from Winds have made the transition with her. I'm not going full dive into the setting. Even near 50,000 words barely covers the main fic, much less offshoots, while the British Wizarding World remained separate, the 'muggles' aren't exactly unknowing or defenceless and some effects made it through the magicals' over thick skulls.

Chapter 1

Watching the little first years being sorted from where she was sitting in the Hogwarts Great Hall, just between she listened with half an ear to the conversation between the other students.

As the last girl, black hair blending into her robes as it fell past her shoulders, by the name of 'Rose Zeller' joined the table, she gave the younger girl a nod, letting the girl sit next to her.

"Okay," Megan said as the food appeared on the plates along the table. "Before Professor Dumbledore says too much, I'm Megan, fifth year. If you stick with me or go to the prefects when they call, we'll get you to the common room." She waited a moment until several of the new students nodded around their food before turning her attention to her friends.

Keeping an eye on the newbies, it was easy to spot the ones that were most likely non-magical raised, just by how much curiosity they had and how much they ate. Many of the so-called 'muggleborns' actually ate more than the magicals, purely due to the government mandated exercise.

Five hours a week wasn't much for a child, heck ten wasn't much for an adult, but when many people did the combat training on top that increased things to seven and a half up to fifteen hours a week, plus PE or gym, plus clubs, plus other things. Megan herself often managed in excess of thirty hours of training, which burned a lot of calories.

Not to mention everything else that got burned or used, like vitamins, minerals, proteins, etc.

Working her way through her meal, she listened in to the others, frowning slightly at the comments and ragging on the Potter boy in Gryffindor. Yes, he had apparently claimed Riddle was back and now he was insane or attention seeking or something?

Megan shook her head. It really didn't matter whether it was actually Riddle or someone else; there were always terrorists around, though generally few enough in Britain since they usually got stomped hard.

That was what the training was for.

Dealing with idiots and encouraging other people not to be idiots. It helped that most people took physical disagreements to gyms, dojos or fight clubs more often than reaching for a weapon, even if weapons were actually more common than in the USA.

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," the voice of Albus Dumbledore drew Megan's attention as the remnants of the meal faded from the plates. "First-years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students – and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too."

Megan rolled her eyes, half tempted to yell at him to put up a fence, it'd be more likely to keep people out.

"Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred-and-sixty-second time," Dumbledore continued unaware, "to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr Filch's office door."

The list did how much good there? Megan wondered; nobody went to Filch if they could help it. The list would be better off in the common rooms. Actually, maybe she should get that done, at least for Hufflepuff. There was a charm that caused things to copy from an original… the protean charm or something like that. It might be worth playing with it to see if it could make a permanent duplicate that updated from the original.

"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Megan looked over, eying the two women with a frown. While the Defence post was always getting reset, the Creatures post usually had some explanation for changes, since it didn't change that often.

Dumbledore continued, "Try-outs for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the –"

He broke off, looking inquiringly at Professor Umbridge, who Megan now saw was more than a little bit 'pink'. She was also somewhat rarely not much taller standing than sitting. A few students near Megan started to talk, asking why Dumbledore had stopped suddenly when Professor Umbridge cleared her throat with a remarkably fake cough and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Professor Umbridge simpered, "for those kind words of welcome."

Megan frowned, shivering absently. Whatever else Umbridge was, she wasn't pleasant. Maybe it was just the affected 'childish' voice or something in her face and stance, but the woman was obviously trouble, and just as obviously not someone they wanted around kids, period.

She waited, spending more time reading the woman's expressions than listening to the indeterminable speech she was blathering out like some badly rehearsed school play.

Umbridge's comments about change, tradition and innovation were the things that rang the loudest alarm bells for Megan. Britain, she knew, had changed a hell of a lot since her great-great-grandfather's day.

Paranormals/supernaturals were, while not common, at least common enough to warrant their own departments in law, military and medical arenas, which these magicals seemed intent on ignoring.

Heck, she had a friend that was a gargoyle, in France at that.

Sharing a look with her friends, Megan frowned as the speech finally wound down. No, she didn't like Umbridge's comments, particularly since she was likely to try reverting things to the state best left in the long past.

There were a few more comments from Dumbledore before he dismissed the hall.

Megan got to her feet, giving a sharp whistle to the new kids. "Okay folks, first year Hufflepuffs either here with me or over with the prefects!" she called, her voice cutting through the babble. "Second years, if you've forgotten where you bunk, you need to join one or another as well," she added.

Giving them a few minutes to sort themselves out, she did a quick headcount and nodded. She had ten newbies and two or three extras from the second year students. Funnily none had gone to Macmillan or Abbott, in spite of them being the prefects.

Glancing over, she frowned slightly, seeing Macmillan looking rather uninviting, Abbott seemingly more interested in him than the kids. "Right, since our prefects seem to be 'busy', let's get to getting," Megan said, "Follow me, ducklings," she added, amusement lacing her tone. As she started off, she conjured an orb of bright yellow light above her, before smirking.

Pausing a moment, she leaned over to Sally-Anne Perks and Lilith Moon, two of her friends and whispered in their ears. Both black and silver haired girls soon gained equally amused looks.

Spreading out a little, the three of them raised their wands, pointing them at the other houses' prefects, and cast a variant of the light spell.

Almost immediately the prefects from the other houses were lit up by their own personal spotlights, Slytherin in bright yellow, Gryffindor in neon blue and Ravenclaw in brilliant green. A flick of their wands, and the Hufflepuff prefects were bathed in red light.

Ignoring the yelps and shouts behind them, the three girls led their charges into the halls.

"Does anyone else have anything to add?" Professor Sprout asked.

The question drew Megan's drifting attention back to the house meeting that was being held after the Sorting Feast. Turning to the plump older woman in dirt stained robes, Megan raised a hand.

"Yes, Miss Jones?"

Stepping forwards, Megan nodded to the professor. "I've a few things to add," she said. "Firstly, for those raised outside the 'Wizarding World', you should be aware that you're still expected to at least cover up to GCSE in English, Maths, Science, Computing and PE, preferably up to A-level. We'll show you the computer room where you can take online classes tomorrow after the medical." She ignored the groans from several of the first years.

"Yes, yes, new place, new plan." She sent a wry grin at them. "Sorry, but you're not out until the fat lady sings, and I don't mean the one in front of the Gryffindor common room." Megan looked around at the other Hufflepuffs. "You're also supposed to keep up with physical fitness and combat training. There's training most weekdays from five am until six and from seven pm until eight."

Shifting, she cast the spotlight spell again, causing Sally-Anne and Lilith to be lit up. "Sally-Anne is in charge of the net sports, that is, tennis, badminton, volleyball and the like, Lilith is in charge of dance and gymnastics, and I deal with general fitness and martial arts. If you want a ball sport that's in Michael McManus' court," she added, highlighting a sixth year red-head boy, who waved at the rest. "For the first week, we'll meet here in the mornings at quarter to five, after that you can request an escort if you're still unsure."

She looked around at the first years. "I'm going to need a list of who is part of this though, since I need to give it to Professors Sprout and McGonagall. That goes for all years, by-the-by." Pausing, she frowned slightly. "If anyone else wants to join, you'll need to see one of the four of us at the start of a practice period. Be aware though, it's going to be a commitment, so if you don't give it your best, you'll be booted. Likewise, expect it to hurt, you're going to be coming in late compared to the rest of us. The first month or so is probably going to be a killer, especially if you don't listen to us when we give instructions."

"In the gym we are the professors," Sally-Anne put in her two pence. "That means if we tell you to knock things off, you knock whatever it is off, especially since if you muck up then someone, probably you, could get seriously hurt."

Lilith rolled her eyes before pushing her silvery hair back out of her face. "We can go over the rules later," she pointed out dryly. "Something to be aware of though, we do try to have a bit of a tournament for the various teams, it's not as watched as Quidditch and Slytherin rarely takes part in any of them. I blame either their Head of House or their blood thing." She shrugged, leaning back slightly in her seat.

"Anyone else?" asked Sprout. "No? Alright then, off you go, bedtime."

Stretching with a grunt, Megan leaned back in her chair, feeling her back muscles tighten as they hit their extension before curling forwards and resting her arms on the desk in front of her.

Ancient Runes was not the most comfortable of classes, mostly due to how much time you spent leaning over something to study or carve it. That had been her last period, now she was watching the frog-like Umbridge in Defence with the Gryffindors.

"Well, good afternoon!" Umbridge said from where she was sitting at the teacher's desk, her pink cardigan fluffed up around her like a layer of slime on a particularly large frog.

A few people responded to her, Megan wasn't among them.

"Tut, tut," said Professor Umbridge. "That won't do, now, will it? I would like you, please, to reply 'Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge'. One more time, please. Good afternoon, class!"

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," most of the class chanted back to her, like good little drones. Megan just muttered into her arms, not interested in the dominance game.

"There, now," said Professor Umbridge sweetly. "That wasn't too difficult, was it? Wands away and quills out, please."

Rolling her eyes, Megan huffed into her arms before sitting up. She was already seeing this lesson being a write off for the rest of the year, much like that idiot Lockhart a few years back, or the stuttering squirrel.

Professor Umbridge opened her handbag, something that was just as pink as everything else she owned. Removing her tiny wand from the bag she tapped the blackboard sharply with it causing words to appear on it:

Defence Against the Dark Arts

A Return to Basic Principles

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" stated Professor Umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year.

"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centred, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please," she said in that annoying fake high voice.

She rapped the blackboard again; the first message vanished and was replaced by the 'Course Aims'.

1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.
2. Learning to recognise situations in which defensive magic can legally be used.
3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

For a couple of minutes the room was full of the sound of scratching quills on parchment. When everyone had copied down Professor Umbridge's three course aims she asked, "Has everybody got a copy of Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

Megan didn't bother joining in the mumbling. She had flicked through the book on the train, and while there might be some useful bits, most of it was written in an over-wordy manner to try to explain 'don't fight, don't be naughty, tell a teacher' to a five year old.

Setting the book up in front of her, she silently pulled out her mobile phone, pulling up the e-learning website for her former school (which she was still officially registered to. Yay for schools that covered multiple 'year groupings', double yay for satellite capable, world-wide phones with good batteries and solar charging) and started checking what the necessary assignments for her courses were.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?"

Umbridge's question drew her attention back to what was going on around her, making her blink and sit up. It took Megan a moment to realise that the 'professor' had asked Granger the question, since the bookworm was sat, hand in the air like she was hoping for a rope from heaven or something.

"Not about the chapter, no," Granger replied, making Megan frown slightly.

"Well, we're reading just now," said Professor Umbridge, showing her small pointed teeth. "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."

"I've got a query about your course aims," said Granger.

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows. "And your name is?"

"Hermione Granger," Granger replied in her usual snooty voice.

"Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully," said Professor Umbridge in a voice of determined sweetness.

"Well, I don't," Granger said bluntly. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."

There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard.

"Using defensive spells?" Professor Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

Megan rolled her eyes and shook her head. This, this was going to be a train crash, she just knew it.

Any reasonably sensible person knew that you never trained people in the field when there was liable to be trouble, you did so in a secure, safe, location like a classroom and you drilled them until they got the responses down to reflex, purely because if you ever were in a situation that required you to act, you wouldn't have time to faff about with deciding how to respond.

It came down to 'be quick or be dead' in a literal sense.

"Yes, Miss Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"

"Yes," Granger challenged. "Surely the whole point of Defence Against the Dark Arts is to practise defensive spells?"

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Miss Granger?" asked Professor Umbridge, in her falsely sweet voice.

"No, but –"

"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new programme of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way –"

"Then your 'so-called' experts are complete and utter idiots," Megan cut in harshly. "The 'whole point' of any sort of defence class or combat class is to teach people in a safe environment by having them train, train and train more until they can respond to any given threat without having to stop, think and die." She pointed out, snapping her fingers each time she paused.

Umbridge stopped sharply, turning towards her with a look of shock on her face before it was replaced by her usual mask. "And who might you be, dear?" she asked.

Megan snorted softly. "Megan Jones," she replied flatly, "and I'm not your 'dear'."

"I repeat," said Professor Umbridge, smiling in a very irritating fashion at Megan, "do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"

Snorting again, Megan met her eyes, letting the woman see just what sort of killer she was. "I've been in worse situations," she replied. "I've got the scars from them. If we're attacked in here, then it means either you're a threat, or you're not doing your job properly." She shrugged almost carelessly, or so it seemed. "On the other hand, there are reasons why there's a government mandated Defence course here, and why the proper authorities mandate a minimum number of hours guided combat training.

"Let's be fair here, something like ninety percent of the time that you can actively deescalate a situation, the instigator doesn't want that situation either, but out of all conflicts, most of those capable of being deescalated are ones where there's talk, not violence," Megan continued, cutting off whatever Umbridge might have said. "You're not going to talk a bear or wolf or dragon into leaving you alone, either you have to kill them, hurt them enough that they leave for alternative prey or give them alternative prey, possibly by harming another."

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions," said Professor Umbridge dismissively.

There was a snort from Megan's left. "Okay, bullshit," Sally-Anne muttered. "Seriously, do you expect a dance troupe to manage to get their choreography right without practice?"

"Somehow, I don't think this… person… even knows the word," Lilith added, causing a few people to stare at them.

"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough –"

"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" asked Potter in a loud voice.

"This is school, Mr Potter, not the real world," she said softly.

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting for us out there?"

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr Potter."

The three Hufflepuffs shared incredulous looks. "Okay, I'm going with her being completely mental," Lilith muttered.

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" enquired Professor Umbridge her voice 'dripping' faux sweetness like a badly made cake left in the sun too long.

"Hmm, let's think…" said Potter in a mock thoughtful voice. "Maybe… Lord Voldemort?"

Megan burst out laughing at Potter's comment, completely cutting off the reactions of ninety percent of the class. "Oh, oh, that's a fucking good one… like he's even a blip on what's actually out there?" she asked. "Seriously?" she continued. "He's a bad parody of that barnacle brained flea dropping, Hitler. At least that one didn't get dead picking fights with unarmed toddlers!"

"He wasn't dead," said Harry angrily.

Megan gave him an incredulous look. "He wasn't even enough to form a ghost or a wraith when he started chewing the squirrel," she pointed out. "No body of his own, no vital functions. That's dead, about the closest he could be to 'living' as a free floating vapour is 'undead'." She shook her head. "He wasn't even that much of an issue anyway. He had maybe a hundred terrorists at any one time, maybe five or six hundred max."

She looked at Potter, arching an eyebrow at him. "Do you expect, Potter, that the probably somewhere between fifteen and thirty thousand – or more – PHANTOM operatives couldn't vape the bastard?" she asked him. "That's not even getting into the four hundred and fifty thousand active military personnel. Please… China or Russia being wankers and starting a Third World War is more of a threat than Riddle."

"He is back," Potter insisted. "I fought him."

Sharing a look with her friends, Megan snorted, shaking her head. "Once again, so?" she asked. "I mean seriously, he had maybe six hundred at best, he lost nearly three hundred attacking Plymouth. If he's stupid enough to show his face, he'll get stepped on," she frowned slightly. "And before you try claiming Diggory… one murderous terrorist is pretty similar to another. It doesn't matter who killed him in the end, though if his murderer is found, they'll be getting a one way trip to a secure prison or the hangman's noose," she added, cutting off Potter's next attempt at rebuttal.

Turning her attention to Umbridge, she arched an eyebrow. "More importantly," said Megan. "Is whether you are going to do your duty and actually teach people how to defend themselves should they wind up in a real fight?"

"You don't know what it's like to fight him!"

Megan made a rude noise. "I've faced things that make Riddle look like a mewling worm," she said flatly. "I mean, I don't know if anyone remembers my boggart, it was two years ago, but that's one of the things I've faced."

"That man-robot thing?" asked Lilith.

Nodding, Megan watched Potter. "My boggart took the form of a 'man' that came into my school the year before I started here. It wasn't a man; it was a demon, according to the people who checked it afterwards that demon was an army killer. I faced it, kept it occupied for over an hour, hurt it and finally saw it destroyed. It could have eaten the entire school population and had room left over." She continued watching Potter, her eyes boring into his. "So tell me, Potter, what's worse, a human with a few parlour tricks, or a demon that can wipe out entire companies at a time?" she asked.

"ENOUGH!" yelled Umbridge, "Enough of this! There will be no spells cast in this class; there is nothing out there that you need to worry about. If there is, all you need to do is call the Aurors."

Rolling her eyes, Megan shared another look with her friends before the three of them gathered their things and stood. "In that case, you, madam, are in contravention of British law." She frowned slightly, trying to remember the specifics. "I think the law is the Revised Statute of Yeomanry as part of the 1920 Physical Health and Military Service Legislation, which states that every child from the age of five must receive a bare minimum of five hours per week of guided physical fitness training and two and a half hours of guided combat training in a style suited to their temperament with the hours either included or additional to the physical training.

"For teenagers that amount rises until it hits the adult amounts of ten hours physical training and five hours combat skills for an eighteen year old and drops back to the child levels for those over sixty," Megan continued, making several people blink and stare at her. Interestingly both Granger and Finch-Fletchley were squirming some in their seats. "Since you are unwilling or unable to provide that, in spite of it being required for your role, we will be finding a new teacher."

Sally-Anne nodded, slinging her pack onto her back. "Besides, it's obvious you're just a mouth-piece for a subversive government, so why should we listen to you?" she asked cheerfully.

In moments, the trio were out the door, ignoring the shouts from Umbridge, including a detention each.

"Twins," Lilith said, coming up behind the two Weasleys, a rolled up newspaper in hand and a cross expression on her face.

"Yes?"

"No," Lilith responded, smacking both of them once with the newspaper, making them both yelp, more in shock than pain. The newspaper wasn't that thick.

Rubbing his head, one of the pair eyed her sourly. "What do you mean 'no', Moon?"

"She means," Sally-Anne cut in, drawing the pair's attention, "that you're not doing anything with the Hufflepuff third years or younger," she added, unfolding the notice they had found on the Hufflepuff notice board that morning.

"At least," Megan added, drawing the pair's eyes to her and smirking slightly as they paled, especially when they saw she had their wands. "You're not without us running over it. You know, proper contracts, what they're supposed to do, what you're paying them, if there's any risks they should be aware of, that sort of thing."

"Uh… um…" Fred started only to flinch at a shift from Megan. "We-we want to test our products on them," he admitted.

The trio shared a look above the pair's heads. "Really?" drawled Sally-Anne. "And just what 'products' are these?"

"Our Skiving Snackboxes," George replied, not looking much better than his brother in the greenish tinged skin department.

Although, considering the one time they had crossed Megan badly enough to get her to go beyond words, they had ended up stripped naked, tied up in the Great Hall, spray painted with some sort of paint to look like something called 'Smurfs' and gifted to Professor McGonagall.

That Sally-Anne and Lilith joined in the next two times hadn't made things better.

"They're a mix of Puking Pastilles, Fainting Fancies, Fever Fudge and Nosebleed Nougat," Fred explained. "Eat one end and you get sick, eat the other to return to normal once you're out of class."

"No," Lilith said again, slapping them both with the newspaper.

"Argh!" yelped Fred, "Would you stop that?!"

"She's got a point," Megan pointed out. "You're talking about things that just from the names have a physical effect on people. What happens if you get someone resistant to an ingredient in the cure end?" she asked. "Heck, worse point, what happens if someone has an allergy that's at the point it can kill them?"

Sally-Anne nodded next to her friend. "There's also the fact that, well, what happens if someone doesn't get a cure in time? You spend too much time vomiting and it could result in the same symptoms as Bulimia," she pointed out. Seeing the pair look confused, she rolled her eyes. "Rotted teeth, mood swings, fainting, constant sore or swollen throat, blood in the vomit, swollen face, cardiac arrhythmia, heartburn… death from the heart issue or from stomach acid burning through the windpipe, or just getting into the lungs and making you suffocate or drown, and those are what I can think of."

"The Nougats are just as potentially bad," Lilith added. "Most nosebleeds are from pressure in the nostrils causing blood vessels to burst. That said, too much blood loss, and these things sound like they make your blood vessels burst, then thin the blood or prevent it from coagulating, which can lead to shock from blood loss and death, especially if it causes other blood vessels to burst… I mean what about the blood vessels in the eyes or ears or around the brain?"

Megan nodded while the boys just looked confused. "Long story short, two of the four you mentioned are potentially able to kill someone, that's not getting into what happens with the other two; I mean how does the Fainting Fancy make you faint or what effects the Fever Fudge have?"

"How do you three even know what any of that means?" George complained.

"We're the ones in charge of three quarters of the physical coaching in Hufflepuff," Megan replied dryly. "Long story short though, no, you're not trying your products on them, especially not without a qualified medical practitioner on hand for if things go wrong," she explained. "Unless you'd both like to spend a weekend having human biology explained to you by scientists, in minute detail, while being unable to sleep, including what happens when you get hurt or pregnant?"

Sally-Anne arched an eyebrow. "How about the exact, graphic detail of what happens to the human body for people who have to suffer these diseases, including the autopsies where they give the cameras a good look at the organs?" she suggested, lips twitching at the nauseous look the twins had gained.

Lilith frowned and nodded. "Yes, I think something like that might be a good idea. They want to make people ill as a 'get-out-of-class-free' prank, they should learn what the body goes through when they do," she said, making the twins pale.

The twins shared a look. "We'll be good," they said.

"Good," Lilith said, smirking at them. "Come on girls, we should eat," she added, leading her friends back to their table.

"How come you surrender that fast for Jones and not for me? I'm a prefect," Granger's voice sounded behind the trio.

"They're scarier than you," Fred replied.

George nodded. "They're more likely to do something messy and permanent. Hermione, you threatened to call our mother, they threatened to torture us, and they escalate, you don't."

The girls grinned at one another over their food as Hermione groaned.