Hello my darling denizens of the deep dark void! How are all my little voidlings doing today? Better now that Auntie Lyn's come to deliver another chapter of this story in ASlytherin's place I hope!
Now I believe our favorite author warned you all last week, but just to be clear, I'm Lyn Essency, ASlytherin's Beta, and I'm graciously posting this chapter for her while she's off galavanting across the Irish Countryside.
What? Jealous? Me?
Of fucking course I am. Aren't you?
She's off exploring ancient druid holy sites and I'm stuck back here working in customer service. (Yes I did work Black Friday, No I did not murder anyone. Why, what have you heard?) Anyways! On with Business.
The correct answer to last chapter's quiz came from Seawitch225: I, the (best) reviewer, am reviewing because I look pretty fucking precious on my pedestal. *winks from high above*
Although in my humble opinion SlytherinsFlower317 is a close second. Also, slim picking's ya'll. You could at least try to give SeaWitch a run for her money. I know you're all much more creative than this. Step it up kids.
But ANYWAYS. Enjoy this next chapter. I certainly do.
Content: Let's see, um, puns, bad jokes, implied death threats, the Secret Hufflepuff Army, and-TROOOOOOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLL! TROOOOOOLLLLLL IN THE DUNGEONS! Thought you ought to know. *faints*
Disclaimer: I am not Rowling. Though if Rowling turns out to be three esmerils in a trenchcoat we might have some things in common. Just saying.
Chapter 3: Those Who Get Even Lack Commitment
~*TNT*~
"Good morning," Millie said, eyeing the Nott heir who plopped down across from her. His curls were crushed on one side; the bangs lank and stringy across his forehead. The slightly swollen skin around his eyes contrasted the pallor of his usually tan cheeks.
"That is baseless conjecture, but your assumptions are your own." She stared. Theo spread orange marmalade on the darkest piece of toast in the rack like it was his life's one sacred duty.
"Uhm…" She tried for a laugh, but it came out confused and strained.
"Well, aren't you cheerful this morning," Blaise drawled on her left.
"Thank you. I had a brush with three-headed death last night. I found it quite invigorating." Theo took a ponderous bite of toast.
"Don't be such a grump," Hermione admonished her brother, settling on the boy's right. She offered a serene smile that did little to brighten her face. "He's just crabby because I kept him up researching all night."
"Ah," Millie replied, making a mental note to never talk to either of these two before nine.
Theo's displeasure and irritation hung like a lethifold over the table. Of course, it didn't help that Draco was sulking a few seats away. Potter hadn't been caught the previous night, and the blond seemed genuinely put out about it.
No one, not even Blaise dared speak until the mail arrived.
"What in Merlin's…? Potter has a package!" Draco yelped.
It could have been the shattering of the tension or the way Draco's voice cracked on 'Potter,' but Millie felt fairly certain it was the neither healthy nor natural sound Zabini made into his coffee that had everyone choking on snickers.
"It's a broomstick shaped package, Draco. Whatever do you think could be inside it? Maybe if you asked really nicely he'd let you feel it to check..."
"I'm writing Father." Draco shoved away from the table and stormed from the hall, Crabbe, Goyle, and the Notts hot on his heels. Theo forgot to leave the marmalade knife.
Across the hall, Potter, Weasley, and Longbottom were scuttling out with their contraband.
"Oh, I'm sure that will be a productive conversation," Blaise chortled, pouring himself another cup of coffee. "Father," said Blaise in a squeaky nasal whine, "Potter got a broomstick. I want one too. Also, make them expel Potter, Father. He's so awful."
She laughed but cast a guilty glance around the table just in case.
"It makes no sense, though," Pansy snapped. "Why would he even NEED a broom if he's not on a house team? It's like they're breaking the rules just because they can." She shoved her bowl of half-eaten porridge away in disgust.
~*TNT*~
After two months of basic charm theory, environmental versus situational magic, wrist movements, pronunciation, enunciation, and the limitations of manipulating the power to reality ratio, they were finally learning actual spells. Theo thought his brain might actually melt out of his ears and dribble down into his collar during the week spent on Lumos and Nox. He didn't anticipate much relief for learning how to make things fly.
Usually, Slytherins took Charms with the Hufflepuffs, but the schedule had been rearranged. There was some sort of notice on the classroom door about an explosion in the Hufflepuff common room, but Theo hadn't read it very closely. The Gryffindors hovering in an awkward clump in the middle of the corridor held the majority of his attention instead.
"What are you lot doing here?" Pansy demanded.
"McGonagall said our schedule was getting flipped this morning at breakfast," the Indian girl, one of the other twins, snapped.
"Is it permanent?" Draco sneered, his eyes trailed insolently over the Gryffindors. "I'd hate for my education to suffer because I'm stuck in a class full of idiots."
"Sorry, but who are those two next to you, again?" said a sandy-haired boy with a thick Irish accent. He might have been called Fabian or something.
The Slytherins drew closer together, glares flew between the groups, and more than one person drew their wand.
"Ah! You all got the notification about the schedule change. Excellent," Professor Flitwick's squeaky voice said from further down the corridor. Both groups took a begrudging few shuffles away from the door. "Couldn't swap with Ravenclaw, of course," he chortled, bustling through and unwarding the door. "We have the largest House in the year! In we go, in we go. Can't have too big a class for levitation! Chaos! Find your seats, now, chop chop, we're running a bit behind. Gryffindor is the smallest, so…" He spread his hands wide with a conciliatory smile.
No one else smiled.
"Right! I want everyone in pairs. Mr. Zabini, you're with Mr. Malfoy today. Mr. Crabbe can work with Mr. Goyle, and, Miss Parkinson, would you help Miss Bulstrode? Does everyone else have a partner? Wonder- Oh, of course, I forgot. Biscuits. Er… Mr. Potter you'll just have to do without a partner, I suppose. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Longbottom will survive. Right! Now, I want you all to find a group from the opposite House!"
No one moved. Theo glanced at his sister, hoping he adequately suppressed his horror. She nudged him and glared.
Apparently not.
"All right then, I'll just assign the order. First row!" Years of good breeding allowed Theo to suppress his groan. He and Hermione hung back, noses wrinkled, as each pair shuffled awkwardly to their designated desks. Crabbe managed to shoulder check the Irish Gryffindor, but Goyle got between them before things could devolve. "No, no, Mr. Weasley, Mr. Nott is left handed. Mr. Nott, Miss Nott, if you please?" Theo looked up when he heard his name. He cast an annoyed glance of commiseration at his sister before slouching to the seat Flitwick indicated. He and Hermione were basically ambidextrous, but the Crimson Cretins didn't need to know he favored his left hand. He sulked a bit, pulling out his books and slumping onto them.
"He can't be… Blood of Circe, he is." Theo glanced up.
Hermione sat visibly fuming on his right. A head of blazing ginger hair gave her messy chignon and forbidding glower an odd sort of fiery halo. "He wasn't joking."
"It's an hour, Mine," he whispered, trying to focus on measured breathing and calming streams rather than his annoyance with the Professor. He barely noticed when the little man waved his wand and a pure white feather drifted to each group.
"Now, I want each pair to take turns casting the levitation charm on their feather. The person not casting will observe their partner and correct any wrist movements or enunciation! Then switch off. And remember, an agile tongue and fluid wrist never need a Charms assist!"
Hermione snorted quietly. Across the room, Zabini had a random coughing fit.
In the first ten minutes, one group set their feather on fire (twice), another went to the hospital wing with snotty vines hanging from their nostrils, and not a single feather levitated.
None of it dampened Flitwick's enthusiasm, though, and Theo was dying by inches.
"Concentrate, indicate, levitate, children! Swish and flick!" he called from Crabbe and Goyle's table. He stood on the desk by Goyle, trying to yank something out of the boy's ear.
"More like deliberate, approximate, self-flagellate," Hermione whispered.
"You mean miscalculate, exacerbate, evacuate?" Theo replied, a smirk tugging his cheek.
"No, no… I could have sworn it was 'motivate, aggravate, immolate', dear brother."
"Oh, I forgot about immolate… um, in that case: nauseate, detonate, obliviate."
"Stimulate, fluctuate, dissipate."
"Accumulate... consolidate… uh..."
"Regulate?" Hermione offered.
"Don't help me. Besides, I want four syllables… uh… regenerate."
"Be that way. Anticipate, facilitate, emancipate," Hermione replied almost immediately, tucking a stray curl back into place.
"How are you so good at this?"
"Marinate, masticate, regurgitate." Hermione smirked, twirling her wand between her fingers.
"Masticate isn't even a word."
"It is so! It means 'chew'! Concerning Oversized Dark Creatures, Julian Highcountry, chapter 2, page 41: 'Giants native to Norway, Sweden, certain parts of Canada, and Greenland have larger skulls and stronger jaws to facilitate the mastication of their prey's bones for marrow.' Masticate."
"Gross. Masticate it is, then. Subjugate, legislate, liberate."
She sniffed. "How noble. Dominate, decimate, desecrate."
"A bit dark there, sister dearest… cultivate, educate, celebrate."
"Mine were all Ds," she said with a thick edge of smugness.
"There weren't established rules, but fine. I'll redo mine."
"Fabricate, fashion plate, fascinate."
"Quit taking double turns!"
"Bleeding Hell! Will you two shut up?" the Weasley hissed on Hermione's right.
He wasn't quiet enough.
"Mr. Weasley! Five points for your language!" Flitwick scolded, marching over. "If you have time to interrupt, I assume you have perfected your levitation spell?"
"No sir, Professor," the Weasel muttered, fuming. "The Notts were distracting me."
"Is that so? Well, Miss Nott, have you, by any chance, perfected your levitation spell?"
They glanced at each other. Hermione wrinkled her nose, but replied, "No sir, Professor."
"Then I'm sure both your groups have plenty to occupy themselves with," Flitwick declared and marched over to the two Gryffindor girls.
"Plenty with which to occupy themselves," Hermione grumbled under her breath.
Theo nearly didn't hear her, though, because the Weasley gave an audible growl and cast the loosest interpretation of a levitation spell imaginable. The boy couldn't possibly be speaking Latin, and he swept both arms about like he was fending off invisible pixies.
Then Weasley's left arm collided with his sister's shoulder. The twins went utterly still and stared the red-faced boy down. Longbottom paled.
"Excuse you," said Hermione in a silken tone that promised violence.
"Yeah, what?" the Weasel retorted. Longbottom squeaked.
"You hit my sister. Apologize."
"Get stuffed!"
"Professor Flitwick, Sir?" Hermione called. Weasley's git face went two shades redder. His mouth dropped open in outrage.
Flitwick darted over, though, and cut off anything the boy might have said. "Yes, Miss Nott?"
Theo kept unwavering eyes on the ginger, refusing to even blink lest the boy give any excuse to start hexing.
"I believe I've mastered the spell."
"In two minutes!?" He smoothed his expression. "Well, by all means then, my dear."
Theo relished Weasley's grimace when she won five points for first mastery in the class. It should have been ten for that sort of thing, but Notts don't concern themselves with trifles when there are larger weasels to isolate, intimidate, and incarcerate.
~*TNT*~
Neville was torn between nausea and paranoia for the remaining half hour of Charms. The Nott Twins said nothing, but a chill rose off them, and they spent the rest of class passing notes to each other and having silent discussions with their eyes. Ron spent it muttering and fuming. Neville didn't bother listening to him; however, he knew if he could hear him then the Notts, who were sitting an arm's length away, probably could too.
Finally, once they were dismissed and they flooded the corridor with their Housemates, Neville allowed himself to breathe.
Of course, he and Ron were no longer within the safe bounds of a watchful professor, but if they blended in with the group, kept their heads down, and…
"They're nightmares! Both of them!" Ron didn't modulate his volume to accommodate the death sentence hovering over them. "Rabbit-faced, inbred, nightmares."
"Sorry… Who…?" asked Harry. The green eyes asked whether he should be laughing this off, talking Ron down, or conspiring.
"Well, during class…" He cast a glance over his shoulder. The first few green trimmed students bled into the hall. Both blonde.
"Is this about the Notts distracting you?" Harry cut in, turning back to Ron.
"Exactly!" Ron exploded. Harry ducked Ron's flail without breaking stride. "They're fucking about, whispering when I'm trying to concentrate! But you notice Flitwick-"
However, Ron's bag split a seam, so his thought was lost in a cascade of quills, parchment, and books. Ron's inkwell shattered on impact; the crash obscuring the eruption of swearing. Neville grabbed Harry's sleeve and yanked him down and over to the wall. Ron, Seamus, and Dean had been splattered with color changing ink.
Beyond the arguing and arm waving, Neville could just make out the clump of Slytherins. Some were pointing.
"C'mon, Nev," Harry said with a tug Neville ignored.
A dark, curly head separated itself from the Slytherin clump.
"Harry, wait," Neville hissed, but the boy was already on this knees, ferreting out crystal shards while Ron mopped up ink with his robes.
Neville cast another glance toward the approaching Nott.
Seamus and Dean had left for the Tower, flecks of red, green, yellow, and blue winking in the flapping robe folds around their legs. Harry and Ron were trying to fit what they could into Harry's bag. No one seemed to notice the Slytherin.
The brave thing would have been to draw his wand… But... Nott didn't have his drawn… hadn't seemed to have even noticed him… maybe if he stayed still… He could hex from afar… And then he'd have the element of surprise too…
"You really ought to be more careful, Weasley." The boy's voice was velvet but pitched to carry. Nott didn't even look his way. Didn't acknowledge his part in everything.
Neville told himself his relief was because Nott hadn't thrown any curses yet.
"What's it to you, Snake?" snarled Ron. Neville's indrawn breath made a quiet 'eep,' but only Harry glanced over.
"Nothing. Just some friendly advice."
The Slytherin drew his wand.
Neville lurched forward; his stomach evaporated along with his heart and most of his intestines. He managed to get hold of his wand, but his sweaty hand fumbled with the wood and his robes. Harry and Ron had jerked back, and each of their hands flew to their wand pockets. They were on the floor, though. Drawing their wands, with their trousers taunt across their thighs, would not be easy. Merlin above they were going to-
"Reparo, Reparo, Tergeo, Scourgify."
He stumbled a few steps then had to clench his legs together to keep from swaying. Also to keep his bladder in check, but details.
The reassembled ink bottle glinted on the floor; Ron's mended bag lay innocently across his lap; and the only ink stains were on Ron and Harry's hands and the wadded robe Ron had used to wipe off his books.
"Wait, but aren't-"
"Have a pleasant day." Theodore Nott's smile turned sinister for half a second before he spun on his heel and strode off after his classmates.
"What did he mean?" Harry demanded, eyeing Ron. He sat back, but his knuckles were white on the books in his lap.
"Nothing important," Ron grumbled, shoving things haphazardly into the newly repaired bag. "He's a Nott. The whole family's mad. Have been for centuries. Everyone knows that." He stood and slung the bag over his shoulder. He cast a disgusted glance at the robe wadded in his fist. It feebly flashed red, green, yellow, and blue in retaliation. "I'm gonna go… deal with this. I'll catch up with you, yeah?"
Harry clambered to his feet and made an abortive attempt to follow, but Ron disappeared around the corner. Harry turned on Neville with a frown. "What just happened?"
Neville let himself take a full, cleansing breath for the first time in what felt like hours. "He hit Hermione Nott in class and didn't apologize." He rubbed a hand over his face and tugged at his hair before meeting Harry's gaze with resigned disappointment.
Harry turned back to the corner where Ron had disappeared. He cocked his head to the side a bit. "I guess that explains…" Harry whipped his head back to Neville. "Hold on! No! That was a threat. I mean, I'd get it if Nott hit him or something, but…"
Neville clapped him on the shoulder, using the gesture to tug his best friend into motion. "Ron assaulted Nott's sister and didn't apologize, mate. Not even after a period of cooling down or when Nott helped him with his bag."
"I bet he's the reason the bag broke," Harry scoffed.
"That's not the point. You don't touch a Nott. Especially a girl Nott. He could challenge Ron to an honor duel if he wanted to now."
"An honor… Like with Malfoy?"
"Worse. Think to the death." Harry jerked to a halt and whirled on Neville, but Neville cut Harry off before he could get a word out. "The Notts were among the druids cursing Hadrian when the Romans tried to conquer in 128. You don't just… They subscribe to the old, don't give me that look, Harry! It would be completely legal. They're powerful, and dark, and… and… Merlin on a boat what if they tell their father!?" Neville moaned and rubbed a hand over his face again. "I was right there, and knowing Gran she'd-"
"Can't we tell Percy or someone?" Harry asked, touching a cautious hand to Neville's shoulder.
"If Nott calls an honor duel there's nothing anyone can do. McGonagall might be able to help if he just calls retribution, but-"
"Retri-what now?"
"Retribution duel," Neville replied, waving Harry off.
"How many kinds of duels are there?"
Neville froze, glanced at Harry, then let out a short, humorless laugh. "Right. Muggles. I forgot. OK. So there're technically seven types of duels…"
~*TNT*~
"What's scarier than a muggle with a torch?" Zabini asked, eyes blazing in the candlelight over the mounds of food for the Samhain feast. Hermione rolled her eyes at her mostly empty plate. "A mob of muggles with torches," he cackled before anyone could answer.
Daphne inhaled so deeply her eyes fluttered closed. "Blaise-"
"You know why you never see centaurs hiding up in trees?"
"Because they can't?" Pansy snapped.
"No," Blaise replied, casting her a condescending smirk, "because they're really good at it."
The table groaned.
Tibby had sent Mama Calandria's paella that morning. She and Theo had finished it in the library after classes.
This meal, this conversation, was entirely unnecessary.
"What will it take to get you to shut up already?" Millie moaned, rubbing her temples. "You've been at it all day."
"No, wait! This one's really good!"
Draco slammed his palm down, rattling the goblets. "Why did the Weasley jump off a cliff?" he demanded.
Tracey cast a concerned glance toward an uncaring Daphne. Pansy frowned and craned her neck a bit to check the Gryffindor table.
"Why?" Goyle asked dutifully.
"Someone threw a Knut," Draco replied, his eyes slitted from the way his malicious smirk bunched his cheeks.
It startled a laugh out of even Blaise, who rallied. "You dare challenge the Master of Mischievous!?" He brandished his lamb shank. "Which side of a Phoenix has the most feathers!?"
"...The lef-"
"WRONG!" Blaise swung the shank toward Tracey, cutting her off and sending droplets of grease and gravy flying. Daphne wiped her cheek with a pointed glare. Blaise ignored her. "THE OUTSIDE!"
"OH YEAH!?" Draco's face had flushed, and he'd half risen from his seat.
"We have to go, you said," Hermione grumbled in a mocking version of Theo's voice. "There'll be questions if we don't. What if we need an alibi?"
"WELL, HOW DO YOU BEFRIEND A WEASLEY!?"
"Trick question! You don't!" Pansy interrupted with an eager expression.
Draco wilted a bit and glanced down at her. "No… You paint yourself gold and act like a galleon..."
Blaise leaped into the lull. "What does a red apple have in common with a green one?"
"Everything…?" Millie asked, her lips fighting an open sneer.
"Silence, Millicent! They're both red! Except for the green one!"
There was a beat of disbelieving silence. All eyes locked on the preening Italian.
"Roses are red; violets are blue; I thought Squibs were useless, but then I met you," Pansy declared. Draco's entire face lit up.
Blaise bared his teeth. "How many Gryffindors does it take to stir a cauldron?" The group looked intrigued for the first time since lunch. Blaise smirked, holding them rapt for a moment to pose for the delivery. "One. He puts the rod in, and the world revolves around him."
"What do you call a Weasley with half a brain?" Draco called into the snickering.
"What?" Hermione asked, fighting for composure.
"Gifted."
The group dissolved into full peals of laughter.
"What do you call a bunch of muggles rolling down a hill?" Crabbe interjected, his excitement palpable in his grin. No one had the breath to respond. "A mudslide!"
Slowly, the Slytherins managed to regain some semblance of composure after a sharp look from one of the prefects. The look had to be supplemented by a caramel apple flung in their direction.
The group resumed eating. No one dared make eye contact and smirks haunted eyes and mouths.
"What's scarier than a Ravenclaw with a dictionary?" Blaise whispered.
"TROOOOOLLLLL! IN THE DUNGEON! TROOOOOLL!" Professor Quirrell collapsed against the teacher's table, right in front of Dumbledore. "Thought you ought to know." His whimper was suddenly the only thing audible in the ringing silence.
~*TNT*~
"Alright, you ankle biting disaster zones!" Thorfinn Rowle's voice cut across the hysteria clogged corridor as only a walking beacon of testosterone and human growth hormone could. "If you want to survive, then you will shut up and keep against the left wall, or I swear on the soul of Salazar I'll-"
Blaise enjoyed being alive. It was one of his favorite things about himself.
"ROWLE!" The other seventh-year prefect, Liz Tuttle, yelled. "No threatening the firsties!"
Any idiot with a functioning magical core could be alive, of course.
"Farley! Right side of the column! You and Pucey have the Seconds!"
But Blaise felt he carried it off with a certain flair.
"Whiddon! Where is Bainbridge? You two have the Thirds! Do NOT let Bole do anything idiotic!"
"Professors! Backs to the wall, people! Now! Now! Now! You're a blight on the name of Slytherin and don't-"
"ROWLE!"
Blaise noted Professor Snape's absence in the clump of teachers and ghosts that rushed past without a word.
Wherever the man was, Blaise admired his commitment to his priorities.
"Why are we going toward where the troll was last sighted?" Millie whimpered.
"Because trolls eat soft little princesses, and this one's probably hungry," Rowle snapped. "Now let's move!"
"Rowle…" came Tuttle's long-suffering response from the head of the column.
"We do not have time to coddle the meat, Lizzie. Everyone is getting to the Common Room, or they're answering to me."
"PUFFS!" one of the prefects shouted. Blaise glanced back. The five silver bars on her lapel proclaimed her Bainbridge.
A troop of yellow trimmed students marched past in ranks of three: first, second, and third years in the middle. Blaise cocked his head to the side.
"Brigade commanders keep eyes on your people at all times! I want all underpuffs accounted for at each junction! Hufflehuddle for roll call once we're back in the den! No exceptions!"
Blaise hadn't had much interest in Hufflepuffs… but there was certainly something to be said for any group that managed to maintain flair where he could not. His musings on his lamentably increasing flairlessness in survival situations were interrupted by Millie's nervous hiss.
"Did they just say… Brigade commanders…?"
Blaise wasn't able to answer immediately because Crabbe and Parkinson were doing everything in their considerable power to speed him along. He understood their haste, of course, but Blaise Zabini rushed for no one.
"Well that's just it, Millicent," He replied, adjusting his cuffs.
Their Housemates broke into a run once they reached the corridor to their common room. Blaise found himself swept away in the rush.
Once the common room had been safely sealed and everyone had draped themselves over various pieces of furniture, Millie finally panted, "What's just it?"
"The only thing scarier than a Ravenclaw with a dictionary?" Millicent curled her lip, but he couldn't hold back his grin. "A Hufflepuff with something to defend."
"Where are the Notts?" Tracey suddenly asked.
~*TNT*~
"I wanted to call a retribution duel," Hermione muttered as the two Notts slunk along the corridor.
"And then you saw reason and agreed to do it my way," Theo retorted.
"Well, I couldn't very well openly defend my own honor!" Hermione snapped. "Can you imagine the look on Papa's face? Or, mages forbid, Lady Malfoy's!?"
Theo stopped dead in the middle of the corridor to confront his baby sister. "Oh, and having to explain to McGonagall or Snape or the bloody headmaster why I'm standing over the git's hexed remains at dusk would have been so much better? Do you even know what 'don't draw attention to yourselves' means!?"
"Says the boy sneaking away from his classmates to rescue some Gryffingit who may not even be where we left him. It's the first-floor girl's lavatory, Theodore, not a remote broom closet lost to time!"
"Don't pin this on me. You're here too, you'll notice. Besides, I bet you my weight in galleons that Rowle didn't even bother with a roll call. We'll be- Mo chreach [dammit (literally 'my ruin')]!"
Hermione opened her mouth, likely to tell him to watch his language, but he grabbed her arm and yanked her into the passage behind the tapestry next to them.
"Would you care to-"
"Shush. Someone's coming." Hermione fell silent with a glower, and she flounced away to settle on the stone steps behind him. Theo held his breath.
"How in the name of Godric are we supposed to find him, Harry?" The whisper was not quiet.
The twins shared a glance.
"Caoch [shit]," Hermione muttered. He waved a suppressing hand in her general direction while staring at the back of the tapestry like he could see through it if he tried hard enough.
"Well, we can't just leave him!"
"What was that?"
There was absolutely no time to process before Theo, for the second time in as many months, found himself knocked to the floor of a secret passage while tangled in the arms of the Longbottom heir.
"What the-"
"Not a word," his baby sister hissed in the tone she used to cut arguments with Draco short.
Potter froze, then slowly nodded, raising his empty hands in surrender. He craned his head backward. She had her wand drawn. Such a good baby sister.
Boot heels clicked down the corridor behind them.
Shoving Longbottom off him and nearly cracking heads with the Boy Who Had No Concept of Situational Awareness, Theo peeked past the tapestry and caught a glimpse of Snape before the batlike professor turned the corner.
"What's he doing up here?" Harry demanded in his ear. "The troll's in the dungeons."
"The better question," Hermione interrupted, eyeing the Gryffindors with practiced hauteur while he scrambled for personal space, "is what are you two doing down here? Unless I'm very much mistaken, you belong in a tower."
"We're a few floors above the dungeons," Longbottom pointed out quietly. He had his hands up but refused to look at her wand.
Theo eyed him. The boy met his gaze for a few seconds if only to confirm the fact he'd intentionally contradicted a Lady, before looking past him.
Theo checked his twin.
He nodded in reply to her pursed lips.
"We misplaced something. We decided to retrieve it on the off chance it became irreparably damaged in our absence."
The Longbottom boy's eyes widened; his hands dropped a bit. Theo found himself reluctantly impressed.
"You're risking your necks for some stupid-"
"They know where Ron is," Longbottom interrupted his Housemate.
Potter's entire face hardened. Theo suspected his baby sister's snicker might have upset him. "We're coming with you."
"On your head be it," Hermione replied breezily, shoving her wand back into its pocket, then pushed her way past the tapestry.
Theo raised an eyebrow and waved the two Gryffindors after her.
"Where are you hiding him?" Potter raged in an undertone, casting glares over his shoulder. "If you hurt him I swear I'll-"
"I'm sure young Weasley is in perfect health. This is merely a precaution," Theo soothed. He noted the hand Longbottom deliberately brushed against Potter's arm.
"We could have put him in with the Cerberus," said Hermione.
"The what?"
"Once we agreed I wouldn't call a retribution duel, Hermione suggested Ronald might benefit from renewing his acquaintance with the dog we met last month."
"You… You.."
"To be fair, I was mostly kidding," Hermione said, her nose in the air.
The four stopped dead.
"So, in the spirit of our new-found camaraderie," Theo started, only to stop dead. Harry snorted, but there was a 12-foot mountain troll staring at them from the other end of the hallway, so he refrained from comment. "You'll find your ginger about halfway down this corridor in the girl's lavatory." The troll seemed to be contemplating them. "Third stall."
"He may have to forgo his trousers if he wants to leave," Hermione added, taking Theo's hand.
"Why are you telling us this?" Longbottom squeaked.
"Because we won't be joining you," Theo replied faintly. "We don't particularly like Weasley, you know. Frightful bore."
"What!?" Harry yelled.
The troll let out a rumble of some kind and began a lumbering shuffle toward them.
"Yes... Unfortunately, we'll be far too busy leading the troll away. Hopefully, we'll encounter some teachers," Hermione replied grimly.
"You're…"
"Going to do something unforgivably stupid, yeah. As Gryffindors, I thought you'd be familiar with the concept," Hermione snapped. "Now get behind that statue, don't ask questions, don't argue, and tell your idiotic friend he probably owes us his life. Not to mention you two." She shoved the two out of the troll's line of sight, then sent a steady stream of red sparks from the tip of her wand and turned to flee.
"I don't believe I've ever done anything this stupid," Theo panted next to her. "I can't really see the appeal."
"We have the three Gryffinidiots in our debt, and they won't get us detention for sticking Weasley to a toilet for six hours. Now focus," Hermione spat. "We have until the Entrance Hall to come up with a reason for being out of our Common Room."
"We should have skipped the feast," Theo reflected. "Then we could have said we were in the library."
"Must I do everything myself!?" Hermione snarled, yanking on his hand.
The troll was gaining on them.
"It smells truly terrible," Theo commented. "Though I suppose, given the relative size of its eyes and nose in contrast with its ears, it probably isn't aware of its own stench. Do they scent mark?"
"You are utterly useless. Get down!" She shoved him to the floor and his shoulder collided with the grand staircase banister. He took a moment to wonder what about this particular shoulder attracted his sister's ire.
Theo watched, like he was somehow hovering over his own body, while his baby sister blew out a baluster. It broke unevenly in her haste. The balustrade looked like it was missing a tooth.
The troll roared.
Theo noted that, while uneven and a truly repulsive shade of yellow, the troll possessed all of its teeth.
Hermione shoved his head down, which was quite rude of her, so he couldn't see what exactly she did. A heartbeat or two later, however, there was an echoing series of clattering bangs.
The troll paused, then hefted its club and lumbered straight past them for the staircase.
Hermione murmured a tripping hex.
Theo didn't get to see the troll topple down the stairs because his little sister yanked him up and away toward the closest classroom, but he doubted there was a single soul in the entire castle that didn't hear its graceless descent.
"Remember that time you stole Draco's broom, and he pushed you down the stairs?" Theo asked his sister once she'd carefully closed the door.
She glared at him through the curls that had pulled loose from her chignon, temporarily mute from panting.
"Remind… me… to… kill you."
"Always so aggressive."
Oh man guys, this chapter makes my Hufflepuff heart so happy. It's so nice to be properly represented for once.
QUIZ TIME!
I (the reader), spurred to action by this exciting new chapter, will now:
A) Review, because MY BABIES! THAT WAS TOO CLOSE!
13) Review, because the Wizarding World Political Dance is the and I live for that shit. Like, seriously, give me more.
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0) Review, because Auntie Lyn has challenged me to show just how cool and creative I am and BogDamnit I will NOT back down!
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