The newest copy of The Hogwarts Post went into circulation the next morning. The headline?

"TOLERANCE" BYLAWS FORCE PRO-HERITAGE STUDENTS INTO SILENCE

I was positively speechless, much like the students mentioned in the headline.

The article quoted a variety of "anonymous sources," and tried to victimize blood supremacists for their draconian views. One source even said, "I'm sure plenty of people feel this way, but we can't speak out of fear for our safety."

The journalist was none other than Severus Snape, who ended his little think-piece with the following words of wisdom: "If this school truly embraces tolerance, its bylaws should be amended to include every students' most treasured values."

I scoffed, outraged. "Not if those values demean and de-legitimize the right of other students to even exist!" I shouted back at the lifeless paper. "And it's not like they're forced to remain silent—are you actually shitting me with this, Sev?! They can say whatever they want—they've been saying whatever they want. I would know; I'm at the receiving end!"

Fuming, I turned to James, who was waiting for me to give the word. "We could lose our badges over this," I said.

"This is more important than our badges, Lily," he argued, and he was right.

I sighed. I'd worked really hard to be Lily Evans, Head Girl. But before that, I'd been Lily Evans, Muggle-rights activist, and after I graduated, that was what would stay with me out of these castle walls. I glanced once more over the hateful words, cloaked artfully with skewed arguments in defense of blood supremacy.

"Liberty or death?" I said finally, conceding.

He nodded. "I'll rally the troops."

For Phase I: The Heist, we'd had our respective Quidditch and Hippogriff teams on stand-by, along with our mates and anyone else we knew who would be interested in staging a bit of chaos for our scheme.

They were tasked to very inconspicuously, one by one, blend into the crowd of other students, and take as many copies of the paper as possible before the main breakfast rush at eight o'clock. If they were successful, they'd leave the stands of the Post bare, forcing the new staff to engage in a bit of illegal Charm-work to get copies for their normal audience.

Frank assured us they usually only made enough copies for 15% of the students to read, as that was their usual amount of readership. Considering the population of Hogwarts this year was nearing a thousand, that meant we had to steal about 150 copies. Slowly. Steadily. Without raising suspicion.

Phase I was simple enough, in theory. Frank hadn't officially quit yet so that he could resume his post as promoter. Unfortunately, he now had to share the job with Mulciber, who glowered at us whenever we came up to the booth.

"Get your copies of The Hogwarts Post here, my friends!" he called, waving a copy of the familiar zine in the air.

Mary, Caradoc, and I were the fourth group of our operation to walk by his newsstand and pick up copies. Of course, we needed to distract Mulciber during our covert operation, so he wouldn't catch on to our plan and alert the rest of the bigoted news team.

It was my job to perform outrage, which wasn't difficult, considering I'd already read the entire article to know what kind of rubbish Rookwood was peddling.

"Frank, what is this?" I said, confronting him with my usual air of authority and moral righteousness.

Frank put on his best sheepish expression and grimaced accordingly. "Sorry, Evans. I don't have the final say on what gets published."

I rolled my eyes. "I thought this was your zine?"

He shrugged. "Doesn't make me editor, does it?" I could sense a bit of resentment in his voice, but I ignored it.

"Don't like it, don't read," grunted Mulciber.

I harrumphed dramatically, clutching his zine furiously in my hand, and stalked off in the direction of the Great Hall.

Once there, I rendezvoused with the half of the gang that had already filched a good portion of the copies. It was nearly time for our second wave of hits, during the usual morning rush.

Sirius, Sruthi, Marlene, and Harriet were right after me. Only, apparently Sirius hadn't read the zine earlier this morning like the rest of us had, and he went totally off-script.

"What the fuck is this rubbish, Longbottom?" he stormed. I could hear his voice ringing from our alcove just off the Great Hall.

Frank's voice wasn't nearly as clear, but whatever he'd said didn't seem to appease Sirius.

"That's not fucking good enough!" I heard Sirius shout.

I exchanged worried glances with James, who put up a finger to tell us to wait.

Sirius's voice carried down the Entrance Hall. "I want to see this Rookwood. In fact, I want to see the whole fucking writing staff. Where the fuck is Snivellus?"

"James," I started, feeling panicked, but he shook his head.

The morning rush to the Great Hall should have started by now, but no one had made it near the doors.

"What do you mean on whose authority, Mulciber? On mine!" Sirius was screaming his voice hoarse.

"James," I said again. "It's time to send in reinforcements."

Marlene coughed. "I think it's more a job for the Head Boy and Head Girl, don't you think?"

I frowned. "But we need to be able to get to the presses on the third-floor corridor."

James took my hand. "It's alright, we'll manage." He turned back to the rest of the group. "The next wave starts in sixty seconds. Start counting." He pulled me out of our alcove and through the Entrance Hall to Frank's newsstand next to the grand staircase.

A large crowd of at least thirty students had gathered around Sirius, Frank, and Mulciber as Sirius ranted on and on for ages about how he had every right as a student of Hogwarts to speak to any other students in attendance, especially if he had a problem with them.

Though we had made off with quite a number of copies of the zine, there remained a rather sizeable stack on the newsstand.

"What seems to be the problem here, Longbottom?" called James's voice as he assumed his authoritative Head Boy posture and cadence.

Frank's face flashed with relief, but Sirius turned around and answered before him.

"These invertebrates are selling this bullshit propaganda to young, susceptible minds!" he cried, holding up the cover story for James to see.

"We're not actually allowed to sell—" Mulciber began.

Sirius whipped around and roared, "Shut the fuck up, Mulciber!"

James placed one hand soothingly on Sirius's shoulder. "Mate, it's alright." Then, in hushed tones, "We're taking care of it, remember?"

Sirius relaxed, but only by the smallest increment. "First-years could read this, Prongs! First-years!" He seemed desperate. "And if first-years could read it, then—then—"

James nodded. "He won't see it, Padfoot. I promise. We'll get this sorted straightaway."

Oh, I thought, and it suddenly dawned on me that Sirius wasn't overreacting or overselling or being dramatic. He was worried about his younger brother.

Sirius's eyes, so passionate and bright, shone with gratitude and resolve. He turned to the masses and said, "This is what propaganda looks like, everyone. Boycott The Hogwarts Post!"

My eyes widened. That was the exact opposite of what we needed to do! We needed Frank to run out of copies, force Rookwood to perform an unauthorized Duplicating Charm, catch him in the act, and get him suspended from The Hogwarts Post, or shut it down completely.

But Sirius had apparently lit a fire with the morning rush crowd, their appetites for political activity whetted. They cheered, starting a rallying call of "Hatred's what we hate the most! Boycott The Hogwarts Post!"

Phase I was simple enough, in theory. Until a wild card goes and changes the whole plan to a boycott.

Jen elbowed her way through the crowd to me, out of breath as always, and gasped, "Lily, you need—a—petition."

"Are you seriously trying to draw up legal documents right now?" I asked her. She should have been in Ravenclaw.

She nodded. "This way, you don't even need to try to catch Rookwood on the off-chance that he'll do something technically illegal."

"What's a petition going to do?" I asked.

"LOVE AND AMITY, WE BOAST! BOYCOTT THE HOGWARTS POST!" screamed a student in my ear, so I couldn't hear Jen's reply.

"WHAT?!" I shouted.

She rolled her eyes and produced a parchment from her bag, then scribbled something at the top.

Sirius started leading a march of students around the Entrance Hall as they chanted, "Where is Rookwood? Where is Rookwood?"

James had put up a Shield Charm around Frank and Mulciber, an unfortunate precaution due to this turn of events. I could feel his magic prickling at my skin.

Sruthi appeared suddenly at my side. "You didn't tell me," she said.

Bewildered, I glanced down at her. She was trembling.

"Sruthi—what? Are you alright?"

Her eyes glazed over, her Nordic goddess ancestor apparently paying a visit. "Dorcas Meadowes," she said, her voice gravelly. She shook herself again, and blinked until her bright green irises reappeared. "You didn't tell me about you and James," she said, as though nothing had happened.

"Oh!" I felt suddenly flustered, remembering my promise to update Sruthi on my progress re: James. "Well, you were right about us, it turns out."

She smiled. "I know."

"Hang on—just now, you went all, er…"

"Sorry about that. Your question, you know. Sometimes the answers evolve and Freyja has to pass it along." She rolled her eyes as though having access to a goddess was a minor inconvenience.

I frowned. "Does she give you answers to exam questions, too?"

She burst out laughing. "I'm not allowed to ask. Besides, it'd be rather obvious I was cheating when my eyes roll back and I start talking out loud."

"Good point," I said.

Jen finished scribbling whatever she'd scribbled on the parchment and shoved it at me. "Petition!" I'd barely glanced at it before a passing Sirius Black snatched it out of my hands and yelled, "PETITION!" The protesters cheered in triumph, calls of "Petition!" resounding throughout the chambers of the Hall. Remus rushed in with the rest of the Second Wavers and joined Sirius's march, passing around the petition.

James sidled up next to me and grinned. "Well, that went sideways."

"Leave it to Sirius," piped up Sruthi, and we both laughed.

Sirius frowned over at us as he passed us again, and he pulled a giggling Sruthi into his march, circling the newsstand.

Sirius yelled, "Hate and bigotry are toast!"

Sruthi immediately joined the response calls of, "BOYCOTT THE HOGWARTS POST!"

I vaguely wondered how many other slogans Sirius could get to rhyme with "post," before James slipped his hand in mine. "This feels better, doesn't it?" he asked, bouncing our hands together slightly. "Out in the open, much more straightforward."

"Much more Gryffindor," I said, a sly grin spreading my lips.

"Exactly." Then, "I put up a Shield Charm around Longbottom and Mulciber."

I nodded. "Good of you."

He chuckled sheepishly. "It's not just because I'm Head Boy and it's my duty, although, that's part of it."

"What are your duties as Head Boy, anyway?" I smirked.

He grinned back at me, his eyes glimmering with mischief. "Probably putting a stop to this—to Sirius."

"Probably," I agreed, smirking. "But this is more important than our badges. You know, despite the commotion, I reckon we can still pull off a second wave."

James nodded discreetly over my shoulder, and I turned to see Peter, shuffling inconspicuously towards our alcove with a stack of zines under his arm.

"Good old Pettigrew," I said.

"He's a pal," said James, puffing his chest rather proudly. He'd be an idiot not to be proud of the strong, indispensable friendships he'd made over his years at Hogwarts, I supposed. "Now, you and I, Ms. Head Girl, must quietly take the rest of Frank's zines before any sixth year Slytherins appear."

Before Regulus Black appears, he meant.

Only, I didn't say so. It seemed like something I should ask Sirius about. Instead I squared my shoulders, and said, "You say you're fetching McGonagall, and I'll stay here to keep an eye on them. Then we can switch or something."

He nodded curtly. "Clever. Simple. Plausible." He grinned and tickled my side. "Good."

Laughing, I squirmed out of his reach and positioned myself firmly in front of the newsstand, which was being circled by chanting crowds of upwards of fifty students by now.

"SHOW ME WHAT DEMOCRACY LOOKS LIKE!" called Sirius, and the crowd answered with a roaring, "THIS IS WHAT DEMOCRACY LOOKS LIKE!"

Sirius and Remus shot me identical conspiratorial winks as they passed me by, and I realized that perhaps they had merely gotten to Phase II: Create a Diversion earlier than we had planned.

Unless you had memorized the way he walked like I had, you wouldn't know it to look at him that James had stuffed untold numbers of zines up his shirt and was hunched over slightly to hide the fact. "I'm going to fetch McGonagall," he called a little loudly over the cries of "ROOKWOOD'S SPINNING FALSEHOODS! ROOKWOOD HAS NO MANHOOD!"

I could tell he was struggling not to laugh at that. Then, he was off.

I itched to join the growing number of protestors in the Entrance Hall. If any professors had heard them, they were doing a brilliant job of ignoring their racket.

Just as Peter reappeared from wherever he'd gone to hide his stolen stack of zines, a disgruntled group of students met with the protestors in a fantastic clash. They were led, of course, by Bellatrix Black.

"GET ME A CASTRATOR FOR THIS BLOOD-TRAITOR!" she spat in Sirius's face. Mulciber immediately flocked to her side. The group of students behind her, which consisted mainly of the Post's newest writing staff and her blood supremacist friends, began chanting, "Censorship is bigotry! Tolerance is fallacy!"

However, the infamous Augustus Rookwood was mysteriously absent. I noticed that Severus was among those chanting, "Tolerance is fallacy!" and watched as he swept through the crowd toward the newsstand, toward me.

I sucked in a breath, readying myself for a confrontation. But he barely looked at me as he picked up a copy, opened it to the page of his rubbish article, and held it up in the air.

"Censorship is bigotry!" he yelled against the roars of the clashing students. "That's the whole point of this—so you'll understand! We have a right to our beliefs, too!"

"Yeah, well you and your beliefs can shove it, mate," yelled a voice I recognized as Marlene's. A loud cacophony of agreement followed.

"We have the right to our freedom of speech," snarled Bellatrix. "We can print whatever we want. It's not hurting you."

Sirius laughed. "You are right about that," said Sirius. "You can say whatever you want. That's your right. You can't get sent to Azkaban for printing this trash. But that doesn't mean we can't call you out for spewing your bigoted nonsense, either."

"Censorship is bigotry!" cried someone behind Bellatrix.

"Tolerance is fallacy!" answered Severus's voice.

Remus smiled. "I think we've come to an impasse."

"It doesn't matter. More people agree with us than you think!" said Bellatrix, sneering, dragging her eyes like acid over Remus's figure.

"Censorship is silence! Censorship is violence!" called another voice.

I was gobsmacked, because yes, censorship was not okay, but that wasn't the issue. It was much more complex than that.

"Classic deflection," I muttered, and it might have gone unnoticed, except I swear Bellatrix Black has a radar for conflict.

Her head snapped in my direction, and a wicked smile curled at her lips. "Well, if it isn't our Head Girl."

I raised an eyebrow. "Can I help you?" I deadpanned.

Her smile deepened. "I'm surprised to see you just standing there, Head Girl. Apathetic, are we?"

"Not at all," I retorted, jutting out my jaw. "I'm just trying to keep the peace."

She laughed. "You call this peace?" She gestured dramatically to the protesters, who were currently yelling, "Where's Rookwood?" at the equally disgruntled writing staff. "They're rioting."

I rolled my eyes, my gut clenching at the way she warped reality. "It's a protest, Black. You've said your piece, and now they're saying theirs. That's how dialogues work, you know."

"Censorship is bigotry," she said in a sing-song voice, staring me in the eye in challenge.

She was going to make me say it, that the counter-protest's claim of censorship was merely deflecting from the incitement to violence against Muggles and Muggleborns. She was going to make me get involved, to prove that I had something to lose if this latest issue of The Hogwarts Post was allowed to go into wide circulation. And if I did, it would derail our plan before it even had a chance to fail properly.

"Why don't you focus on keeping your staff out of trouble?" I said, attempting to diffuse the situation and get her attention off of me.

"Tolerance is fallacy!" she called again, her voice louder.

Her staff heard her, and began shouting, "Censorship is silence! Censorship is violence!"

I didn't correct her, every argument against their fanciful protests dying on my tongue like sacrificial lambs.

Bellatrix's smile grew to loathsome and ugly widths, devouring her face in a wall of smugly curled lips. She thought she'd done me in, rendered me speechless and incapable of debate. Her eyes trained on me, she returned to her cronies, cries of their protests on her tongue.

In mild panic, I bit down on my lip to keep from shouting after her, even though my heart had been hammering, the rush of adrenaline pulsing through my fingertips, urging me to say something! But, it wouldn't be worth it to implicate myself before we had a chance to run the sting operation part of our little guerilla attack.

And what if we don't get that chance? I thought to myself skeptically. I shook my head—now was not the time for self-doubt! I took in a deep breath and focused on the task at hand. Any moment now, someone from Bellatrix's camp would notice they were down to the last copies and perform a forbidden Duplicate Charm.

As more students descended down the staircases, Frank tried to promote the newest edition of The Hogwarts Post, but his voice was drowned out by the chants of the protest and the counter-protest.

I wasn't the only one who noticed. Severus ran up to the newsstand and grabbed the last stack of The Post. "Longbottom, where are the rest?" he drawled, his black eyes narrowing coldly.

Frank shrugged. "They're gone. Do you think we need more?"

Severus's eyes landed on mine, and I quickly looked away. His expression was murderous. He turned to Frank and said, "Yes, I think we do. Why don't you go to the presses and make some?"

"But who'll mind the stand?" Frank sounded unreasonably panicked, and I tried not to growl in frustration.

It seemed Severus might be onto us.

"Why would you need to mind a stand that doesn't have anything on it?" Severus responded coolly. "Clearly, the logic of these bigots has rubbed off on you."

Before I could say anything, like, "Clearly, you are so far gone you can't even see that you're the bigot," or "Fuck off, Severus," Frank laughed.

He just laughed.

I watched him curiously as he just totally lost it. I wondered if the pressure of playing double agent had got to him and he needed a release.

Severus was not amused, however, and sneering, he sighed through his nose before turning on his heel, and made his way up the Grand Staircase. "The Hogwarts Post," he said, shoving it at a fourth-year Hufflepuff. "Read it. It's good for you."

He continued in this way as he went upstairs, forcing copies of the zine at unsuspecting students, presumably to make his way to the third-floor corridors and Duplicate the last copy with an unauthorized charm.

Just as I was wondering where in Salazar's soggy trousers James had got off to, he returned to my side with a pull on my elbow.

"Is he going where I think he's going?" he said, a glint of triumph in his hazel eyes.

I turned to James, grimacing. "I think so, and I think you should stay here."

He cocked his head to the side, his eyes searching mine. "Are you certain?"

If James found Severus doing this charm, it would only serve to break their truce and heighten their enmity.

I nodded, swallowing thickly. I had to do this on my own, and James seemed to understand. "Wish me luck?"

James grinned, and gestured vaguely at the two groups of protesters before us. "Only if you return the kindness," he said, and he squeezed my hand as I made my way toward the stairs, after Severus.

It was time for Phase III: The Sting.

I didn't understand why I was so anxious. I'd given plenty of people detention before, taken away house points in Bellatrix Black's face, even had to write Mary a demerit for having Firewhiskey in her trunk. But this—having to "catch" and punish Severus of all people over this Hogwarts Post business—I wasn't prepared for this.

The grey stones seemed more imposing than usual as I practically swept across them in pursuit of my former best mate. My hands lingered on the banister, the stone cold and smooth, even though thousands of students had to have brushed their fingers over the same place throughout the hundreds of years; the lack of wear in the stone must be part of the magic inherent to the castle.

I caught up with Severus easily, though managed to keep a careful distance. He practically burst into the Post's headquarters, the wooden door banging against the wall in a great clattering of thuds.

I held my breath and waited around the corner, wondering how I was supposed to know when Severus was actually making Duplicates.

And, just as I was inching toward the open door, I heard a voice that was definitely not Sev's.

"They're fucking what?" said a gruff, very irate voice.

"They're protesting the newest edition, calling for a boycott. And asking for you, incidentally," explained Severus. He must be talking to Rookwood!

Rookwood scoffed. "And what do you want me to do about it?"

"Well, you are the editor in chief, Rookwood. We're out of copies, by the way."

"Then we must be doing better than you think. It's not even morning rush yet."

I suppressed the urge to snort.

Severus sighed. "That's the thing, though, Rookwood. No one's in the Great Hall. Everyone's busy marching around the Entrance Hall. I suspect some of the protestors have got rid of copies to keep the other students from reading what we've written."

"That's foul play!"

I bit my lip. Was it foul play? I supposed from their point of view, we were being unfair, and it occurred to me that without context, this would have been another way I would have been poisoned against James's anti-pureblood supremacy tactics.

"So, will you do it?" asked Severus.

"You know the presses are stuck," Rookwood answered. "I haven't been able to get them working again."

Bless Frank for using an Industrial Sticking Charm on the presses!

"There are other options, Rookwood," said Severus.

Rookwood didn't answer for so long that I wondered if perhaps I should stick my head through the doorway to see if he was Duplicating Sev's copy.

"Kettleburn's not around," he said finally.

I could hear Severus smile as he answered, "We really need your help."

Of course Sev wouldn't sully his own hands with an unauthorized Duplicate Charm. Of course he would try to get the Hufflepuff to do it.

And of course, he'd lead me straight to it.

I wrapped my hand around the wand in my robe's pocket idly, thinking I was definitely at a disadvantage, not being able to see what was going on the room.

"Close the door, then," came Rookwood's voice, and I panicked briefly at the approaching footsteps, sliding along the wall towards the end of the corridor, until I remembered that I was, in fact, a witch.

I cast a Disillusionment Charm on myself and stepped into the room, just before Sev slammed the door shut.

The room was of average size for Hogwarts, an old, disused classroom-turned-printing press. Clippings plastered the walls, and photographs hanged from the ceiling in some kind of stasis charm, similar to the one charming the candles in the Great Hall. Impressive. The magical presses took up nearly the entire back wall, looking to be about from the Tudor era. I wondered exactly how much it was that magic had improved it to the point that they hadn't updated the whole thing to modern Muggle presses.

I supposed that was all to do with the timing of the International Statute of Secrecy and everything. All the Muggle technological fixtures of the castle simply stopped progressing alongside Muggle technology for lack of contact.

And now we're nearly at war over how much better it would be if Muggles went extinct? Pah!

These idiot blood supremacists wouldn't even have the technology to print their hateful propaganda if it hadn't been for the impetus of Muggle invention.

And to top it all off—they're going to practically illegal lengths to print a thing about how bad Muggles and Muggleborns are, which they could have avoided simply by using modern Muggle technology.

The circles of irrationality completely boggled my mind as I surveyed the rest of room. Opposite the door was a line of thick-glassed windows, probably overlooking the southern courtyard. The desks had been joined in groups of four to form parchment-covered tables around the room. To my immediate right, Rookwood sat at the only desk that might have once been that of a professor's. He was not as nasty and mean as I'd pictured him. It had been a long while since I'd had the opportunity to look at him.

He looked like any other student, with a fresh face and tired posture holding up his school robes—not some big bad monster intent on polluting young minds with hate and prejudice.

Severus stood over him, proffering the last legitimate copy of The Hogwarts Post.

"Get on with it, Rookwood. We're running out of time."

"I promised Longbottom we wouldn't do this anymore," Rookwood replied, but he lifted his wand, anyway.

Suddenly, almost imperceptibly, Severus glanced over his shoulder and right at me, the corners of his mouth turning up in a small smile.

He knew I was there.

He may have seen me before I'd cast the Disillusionment Charm—or, he'd known all along. A cold chill erupted along my spine.

What could he possibly have to gain if I caught Rookwood performing an unauthorized Duplicate Charm?

I didn't have much time to think it through, however.

"Geminioso," muttered Rookwood, and the copy of the Post began multiplying several times nearly immediately. The spell he'd cast was a derivative of the original Duplicate Charm, but its effects were much more impressive. I could understand why using the Charm would be easier than getting the monster printing press to start.

I pressed my wand to my temple and sighed. "You shouldn't have done that, Rookwood."

Rookwood jumped, and immediately Vanished the duplicates he'd made.

"And you definitely shouldn't have done that," I added, walking up to the desk. He hadn't stopped his earlier enchantment, and the duplicates continued to appear, swallowing his desk in seconds.

Rookwood frowned. "How did you get in here?" he asked.

"The better question might be when. I walked through the door, same as you." I waved my wand in the direction of the original zine, ending the enchantment.

Rookwood turned a glare on Severus. "You brought her in here! You set me up!"

Severus lifted one eyebrow in condescension. "Careful."

"Oh don't play innocent, Snape. You've been eyeing my job since you started! And now you've set up the perfect opportunity, even got your little Mudblood girlfriend to sack me!"

"I didn't force you to do anything," Severus answered coldly.

I noticed he didn't bother denying anything else.

Slytherins, honestly.

"You were practically begging me to do the charm! You could have done it yourself, but you wanted me to do it!" said Rookwood.

"You have the most experience with it," said Sev, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Oh, don't try and flatter me!" Rookwood turned to me. "You heard him egging me on, didn't you?"

He looked so tired.

I nodded.

"See? Even the Mudblood agrees, Snape!" he spat.

… And he called me a Mudblood. Twice.

"Rookwood, fifty points from your house. You'll be serving detention for a month, and your Head of House is definitely going to hear about this. And if you call me that word one more time, I'll see to it that the Headmaster sees you as well."

Rookwood sneered, and threw a glare at Severus. "ARGH!" he screamed, sending all the Duplicates of the zine into the air in one, angry sweep of his hand across his desk.

Severus gave a brief chuckle as Rookwood continued his temper tantrum.

"And twenty points from Slytherin," I added.

Severus rolled his eyes.

"You'll be serving detention with Rookwood for two weeks," I continued. "And don't think you've got away with murder and will be able to take over Rookwood's position because of your little stunt, Sev. Slughorn will be getting a nice report about this incident as well."

A scowl marred his otherwise expressionless face.

I walked out of the room, wondering how the hell I was supposed to keep Severus from becoming the new editor in chief. Surely, James would know?

"Give my regards to Potter," Severus's voice called after me, and it took everything I had in me not to flinch.

I returned to the Entrance Hall to find Sirius Black leading a sit-in of about two hundred students. Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore were attempting to talk him out of it.

"Mr. Black! For Merlin's sake, you've made your point—now, get to class!" Professor McGonagall said, her jaw trembling with worry.

Sirius stared at her for a moment in consideration. Then, he took a huge breath and yelled, "WHAT DO WE WANT?"

The students replied, "JUSTICE!"

"WHEN DO WE WANT IT?" called Sirius.

"NOW!" they answered.

McGonagall pursed her lips, though I recognized the slight squaring of her shoulders in pride.

I walked toward my Head of House and the Headmaster uncertainly. "Professors," I said. "I think I have some information that might help."

I told them about Rookwood, Snape, and the Duplicate Charm.

McGonagall immediately called over Professors Kettleburn and Slughorn, who had been trying, apparently unsuccessfully, to convince some of the younger students to go to their classes. They both practically ran upstairs toward the press room, Kettleburn limping slightly due to his peg leg.

"Professor Dumbledore," I addressed the Headmaster. "I hope you'll consider allowing the students to continue writing for The Hogwarts Post and other zines. I'd hate for this to result in any actual censorship." I stared disdainfully at Bellatrix and her writing staff, who had all gathered behind the newsstand, chanting "CENSORSHIP IS SILENCE! CENSORSHIP IS VIOLENCE!" Frank Longbottom, I was pleased to see, was sitting just a few feet away next to Peter Pettigrew.

"Ms. Evans," started our Headmaster kindly. "I would never wish to impede upon the expression of any student, as long as said expressions remain entirely harmless to others." He smiled. "I suspect it may be time for our staff to address the reality of our political situation."

Suddenly, James appeared at my side. "Would that be … appropriate?" he asked, gazing intensely at Dumbledore.

The corner of our Headmaster's eyes crinkled, and I had a feeling they were talking about something else entirely. "I believe—and I'm certain you will agree, Mr. Potter—that it is important to defend against prejudice and bigotry. That is the sort of work that is always appropriate."

James nodded, but continued to stare at our Professor in earnest. "Have you—have you considered—?"

"It's on the agenda for our next meeting, Mr. Potter," answered Dumbledore mysteriously. "Ah, Professor Kettleburn!" He smiled at us and swept away to the Hufflepuff Head of House.

I tilted my head curiously at James, but I'd have to ask him about that particular exchange later.

Rookwood trailed behind Professor Kettleburn in the same tired posture he'd had in the press room, only his face was marred with an expression of shame and defeat. Dumbledore and Kettleburn engaged in an intense, hushed conversation, Dumbledore nodded, and he amplified his voice to get the attention of the room.

"Augustus Rookwood," he announced, and before he could get any more words out, Sirius interrupted him.

"PETITION!" he roared at an impressive volume, comparable to Dumbledore's Sonorused voice. He waved a three-foot length of parchment in the air like a battle flag, and yelled, "WHAT DO WE WANT?!"

"JUSTICE!" came a chorus of voices scattered across the hall.

"WHEN DO WE WANT IT?" continued Sirius.

"NOW!"

Dumbledore Summoned Sirius's petition and skimmed over what looked to be about three hundred signatures.

Impressive.

After a moment, the headmaster cleared his throat and looked up, addressing the editor in chief of The Hogwarts Post. "Augustus Rookwood, our Head Girl found you casting a Duplicate Charm without the supervision of your Head of House or other professor. Due to the severity of such an infraction, she recommends a fifty point deduction from your house as well as a month's worth of detention."

Brilliant. Now all of Hufflepuff House will be after me along with all the students who were stood around the newsstand next to Bellatrix Black, actively booing me.

"It's her word against his!" Black screeched. "You haven't got any proof!"

"No proof! No proof! No proof!" she and her group chanted.

And then, as if by some miracle, Sev approached Professor Dumbledore. "I witnessed Rookwood perform the charm, Sir," he said blankly.

Bellatrix Black looked as though she were trying very hard not to appear shocked. She folder her arms across her chest, one eyebrow hooking upwards.

The headmaster nodded. "Mr. Snape—"

"Mr. Snape provoked the incident, Professor," I felt compelled to say. "He only saw it happen because he encouraged Rookwood to cast the charm in the first place."

"HER WORD AGAINST HIS!" yelled Black, more forcefully this time.

"We were out of copies," said Sev, and he shot me a cold glance. "I suspect some students were unhappy with the contents of our latest issue and stole them before they could go into circulation and allow the populace to make up their own minds."

I opened my mouth to deny the claim—when did I ever get so comfortable with lying?—but James interrupted me.

"I confiscated them," James said, stepping forward, and glaring at Snape. Apparently, James was not averse to the truth at all. I supposed I could learn a few things yet from our beloved Head Boy. "The so-called contents of the issue were questionable, bordering on incitement to violence against Muggle-borns, Sir, and I saw it was my duty to confiscate them before they made their regular circulation."

Dumbledore gave James a look that very plainly said they would be having a chat about that later, and then cleared his throat softly once more. "Mr. Snape, our Head Girl recommended two weeks of detention for you. She also recommended that both you and Mr. Rookwood take your leave from The Hogwarts Post." He waved his wrist delicately at the petition in his hand. "Certainly, the student body has made its opinions on your latest issue very clear and is opposed to the Post continuing in its current direction."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "That petition is hardly a show of majority opinion, Professor. I don't believe half the students in this castle have anything to say about The Hogwarts Post at all!"

Bellatrix and her supporters all voiced general agreement.

Encouraged, Snape continued, "Furthermore, this—this resistance to a balanced perspective on certain matters is exactly what we are speaking up against in The Post!"

Dumbledore smiled kindly at him, which I believed he had no reason to do at all, and said, "I will leave the question of your involvement in the student zine to the discretion of the Post's faculty advisor, Professor Kettleburn, but as for your two weeks of detention, I have no qualms with Ms. Evans's recommendations."

Sirius let out a loud whoop in celebration. "SHOW ME WHAT DEMOCRACY LOOKS LIKE!" he shouted.

And, the inevitable reply, "THIS IS WHAT DEMOCRACY LOOKS LIKE!"

As I tried very hard not to show on my face the absolute flood of relief that washed over me at having half-accomplished our mission without getting hexed or otherwise, Bellatrix practically bared her teeth at me when I chanced a glance her way.

Dumbledore ended the Sonorus Charm on his voice and gazed inscrutably at James. "I do not doubt your reasons for interfering with the Post, Mr. Potter, but I do question whether you acted alone this morning, considering such widespread"—he gestured about vaguely—"participation. A more dubious wizard would suspect it was the result of serious coordination, certainly the sort of team effort one would expect from two athletic captains." His gaze landed on me, and I felt my cheeks flush.

"Er," I said dumbly. I reached up to touch my Head Girl pin self-consciously. I'd miss it terribly.

James sucked the insides of his cheeks.

Mum had been so proud when I'd showed her my pin. I wondered briefly what I'd say to her when I wrote home about losing it. I was involved in a guerilla-style rebellion to do with some student newspaper, Mum, so the Headmaster took away my Head Girl title, but don't worry! I stood up for my beliefs!

I'd have to work on that.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "It would be very impressive. However, it is not easy to ignore Mr. Black's predilection for drama, after all, nor should I underestimate the moral fiber of my students, who will rise to action for a good cause." His smile was gentle as he watched Sirius enthusiastically shake the hand of every single student that had stayed behind for the sit-in that morning. "It is time I trusted them with the truth."

Professor McGonagall had us all crammed into her Gryffindor office on the seventh floor—James, Peter, Jen, Sirius, Remus, Marlene, Mary, Frank, Sruthi, the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, a few others, and me.

Sitting behind her desk, she stared at us over her glasses rather severely for a few moments, her lips pursing as she regarded us thoughtfully. Then, she inhaled sharply, as if making up her mind, and thrust one hand into a drawer, where it rummaged blindly for a few moments, before pulling out a nondescript tin.

"Sneaking around stealing things and setting traps is not how we handle things in my house, understood?" she said, her gaze piercing and forbidding as it flitted from one face to the next.

I sucked in a breath, because she knew. Of course she knew! They probably all knew. We weren't nearly as sneaky and clever as we thought.

We nodded. "Yes, Professor," we muttered meekly.

"If there is something going awry in this castle, then you will report it to me, and let me handle it. Understood?"

"Yes, Professor," we chorused.

"Good," she said, and she shoved the tin at us, which had popped open to reveal several rows of shortbread. "Now, have a biscuit. You've missed breakfast."

A/N: Thank you for reading, lovelies! And thank you for your patience as I continue to write this at a snail's pace, haha. As always, I appreciate any and all feedback, so if you're enjoying the story, have something you'd like to see more/less of in the next chapter, please let me know! :) You're already wonderful for giving this story a chance.