Still at Hogwarts
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At that moment, Harry Potter stumbled down into the Gryffindor common room. Having stayed at the castle over the summer he was quite frankly bored. It was, of course, better than the Dursley's, but nothing much was happening. Harry had stayed at Hogwarts over the summer because he had helped to repair the castle after he and a few other students had blown it up to get rid of an attacking dragon, and after all that excitement it seemed quite dull and uneventful in the castle, despite Fred and George Weasley's best attempts to liven it up. The only teachers present were Professors Dumbledore, the headmaster, Filch, the caretaker, and Sophia (or Sophie, as she insisted on being called) Willow.
Harry had asked Fred and George repeatedly why they were staying at Hogwarts: it had been their seventh year last term. But George only said, "You'll find out on September 1," and Fred had said nothing at all.
Ron Weasley, the twins' brother, climbed through the portrait of the Fat Lady that guarded the entrance to the Gryffindor tower. He was exhausted-- a Dungbomb in the caretaker's office had rewarded him with three hours' labor in the gardens with the house elves.
"Blah," said Ron, falling into an armchair, rubbing dirt off his sunburned neck; his ears too were very red. "Harry, what're you looking tired for? You weren't the one who had to work in the gardens with Dobby for two and a half hours."
"Why only two and a half?" asked Hermione Granger, coming down the stairs from the girl's dormitory. "I thought you were scheduled for three."
"Professor Sophie heard about it about then," said Ron, grinning. "Gave a telling off to Filch for giving me such a 'harsh punishment' and told him that I was 'only an adolescent' and that 'I should not be forced to undergo intense physical labor' for 'a silly stunt'."
"Yeah, she's pretty cool." A new voice came drifting down from the sixth year girl's dorm. Seconds later, a girl-- a young woman, really --came clattering down the stairs in clunky high-heeled black sandals.
That was not the only thing that told that this particular witch was American in origin; she had been transferred from Broadway School of Magic and it was obvious. Having forsaken their monotonous black Hogwarts robes for Muggle clothes over the summer, they had taken the chance to show off what flashy Muggle clothes they owned (Harry had been out of the competition, of course), but this girl had gone all out.
Instead of stretch pants and a floppy T-shirt, like Hermione, this girl wore a black mini-skirt and a silvery spaghetti-strap tanktop, along with masses of jewelry. Her black hair was pinned haphazardly (evene more so than usual), and her violet eyes flashed with triumph at having beaten them all at the game.
"God, Nicole," said George Weasley, who happened to come in, (and who also happened to be her boyfriend). "Isn't that uncomfortable?"
"Yeah," said the girl, presumably Nicole. "Hang on.... I wasn't planning on wearing these for long; I only wanted to show off a little. " She disappeared. "That was weird," remarked Fred Weasley. Moments later, she came thudding back down the stairs in a loose and incredibly huge T-shirt and baggy cut-offs. She was barefoot. Fred laughed. "Now that's more like it. Especially for Hogwarts."
"Right," said Nicole, smiling. "I'm gonna go work in the gardens."
Ron rolled his eyes: Nicole was always spontaneously going to work in the gardens, which she had designed. But then, Nicole did have a special gift with plants; it often got her into trouble. For instance, while working in the garden one evening, an red-leafed ivy nearly uprooted itself to follow her in to dinner; maybe the plant was just hungry. But the gardens were magnificent this year; Nicole had gotten permission from Professor Dumbledore to grow tiny, twinkling vines all over Hogwarts. The minute leaves of this plant glowed in the dark and faeries often inhabited them. Ivy gardens surrounded beds of roses, tulips and irises. Japanese maples provided shade; locust trees and boxwood hedges made a pleasant little tree garden, where beds of amaryllis and coleuses and other shade plants made for a cool green resort. But best of all were the stoneworks. Brilliant diamond fountains and stone pathways and borders and water channels surrounded the castle, making it seem more magical than ever. Nicole was proud of these, and she loved to work in them, as long as she could use her wand to weed.
A long week later, September 1 arrived. Harry came down to the feast early, where, curiously, Fred and George sat at the staff table along with Sophie Willow and the headmaster. As the school filed in through the massive double doors, the teachers entered from the side chamber that lead to the staff room. Nicole poked Harry in the ribs. "Look at Snape!" she hissed.
Severus Snape had gone dead white, glaring hatred at the person in front of him, who was glaring back. Harry recognized the expression on Snape's sallow face with surprise: it was the kind of utter loathing that not even Harry could get from Snape. There was no contempt in Snape's eyes, only hatred, pure and simple. That, and a spark of jealousy. The figure he was glaring at was--
"Hello, Snape," said the woman coldly. Sophia Willow. "I see you still haven't gotten over your acne. Are you enjoying your job of torturing students?"
"How dare you," snapped Snape softly. "You are an equal here, not an overlord. We are both teachers, but that means does not mean I have any reason to trust you."
"Dumbledore trusts me," responded Willow, just as deadly. "For good reason. May I remind you that--"
"The headmaster also happens to have faith in me." Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously. "I don't care, Willow.... any funny business, and I'll seize the opportunity and accuse you. I want you out, and I don't care how I do it. I've given you fair warning."
"The same goes for me," said Willow, unsmiling. She turned on her heel and swept off to her seat; Dumbledore had cleverly arranged things so that she would be next to Hagrid and McGonagall, with Snape three seats over.
As the Sorting began, Ron, Hermione, Harry and Nicole conversed about what they'd seen in hushed voices. But very soon they were too eager to stuff their faces with the amazing feast to puzzle over strange little conversation they'd overheard from Snape and Willow. Harry was helping himself to a baked potato when Professor McGonagall leaned over Snape and whispered something to Dumbledore. The headmaster hurriedly rose. "Ahem," he said, clearing his throat. The noise in the hall died down. "Just to give you a few start of term notices before you sink your attention into this delicious feast. First of all, I would like to tell you all that the Forbidden Forest is just that-- forbidden.
"Also, I am pleased to welcome three new staff members to our ranks this year. "Sophia Willow, who has been kind enough to take over the Defense Against the Dark Arts job--" Some unenthusiastic applause met her introduction; only Harry, Hermione, Ron and Nicole clapped hard, looking quite superiour.
"Second and third, Misters Fred and George Weasley, who have graciously accepted the position of helping our caretaker, Filch, keep Hogwarts in better shape, as it has been brought to my attention the castle would not have blown up so easily if it had not been full of cracks already. Misters Fred and George will be staying in the Gryffindor tower in rooms set aside especially for them."
Harry and Ron exchanged excited glances. So the gags would not stop-- they'd be even better than usual, what with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Harry had a sudden vision of Malfoy with a four-foot tongue. He almost cracked up right there and then. By the time he'd calmed down, the rest of the students were finally digging into the feast.
Fred and George were sniggering uncontrollably up at the staff table. Harry eyed them suspiciously. "You didn't happen to have any extras of your explosives lying around in your coat pockets, did you?" he asked Nicole, as Fred and George did their best to disguise their mirth. "Well, no, but the little tiny flowers on the vines are slightly explosive," said Nicole, "if you put enough of them in one spot.... Why?" Harry nodded at the twins. "Oh no," said Nicole, laughing. "I have the feeling this is going to be a repeat of last year...."
"What sets them off?" Harry gave up-- he was chuckling.
"Um, it's when someone is-- not liking someone else...it usually takes a strong surge of hate to set them off. Which means that someone he or she has hated all their life. It usually means old school enemies or something. Quite effective at times."
But everything seemed normal, except for that. Professor Willow was engaged in a conversation with Hagrid; Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore; Filch was telling off the Weasley twins for having accidentally knocked over a pot of soup; Snape was glaring poisonously at Willow. When Willow noticed Snape, she remarked gleefully, "Snape, don't make such faces. Your face might freeze that way-- oh, I'm sorry, it already has, hasn't it?"
Snape's fists clenched, his right hand twitching as though longing to reach for his wand.
"Oh here we go--" began Nicole teasingly.
POW!!
Fred and George had done their work well-- it was a flagon of wine that exploded, positioned nicely next to Snape. His face and robes were dripping with the sticky liquid for the second time in two years. He began to get up--
FLUMP!!
Several large cakes blew up at once. Sugary icing flew everywhere, liberally plastering Hagrid with it.
BLAM!!
An entire tray of baked potatoes exploded. Bits of potato hit Filch and Willow. Willow grinned and scrubbed her face with a napkin--
PWOP!! Three turkeys went like small bombshells. Professors Vector, McGonagall, Trelawnrey and Sprout were covered with pieces of poultry smothered in gravy. One, in particular, looked pissed-- Minerva McGonagall stood up, her hair flecked with gravy, her robes dropping turkey bits on the floor.
"Good gravy, who did this?" joked Willow at the end of the staff table quietly, causing the Weasley twins to collapse in uncontrolled fits of laughter again.
"Who did this?" demanded McGonagall, staring around the Great Hall. "Who planted explosives at the staff table?"
"They aren't explosives, Minerva." Professor Willow stood up, swishing something around in her callused palm. She held up her hand to show them: tiny, blue-greenish white flowers. "They're all over Hogwarts, I believe..... any student could have gotten hold of them. They're timed to go off when someone has a-- a strong dislike that has been rooted in their very personality. Usually, it means that this person has known the-- the one they hate for a very long time."
"Aaaargh!" said McGonagall frusteratedly. "Than that means there's no reason all our food can't be blown up at every dinner, if we can't catch the culprit."
The Weasley twins stared at her. This had plainly not occurred to them, because immediately they both spewed food forcefully over the table. It hit McGonagall in the back of the head, unfortunately. McGonagall turned furiously; but someone at the Gryffindor table had a different idea.
Hermione Granger took a handful of custard and threw it at Professor McGonagall. It hit, splat! on the back of her head as Hermione hastily sat down and hid her custardy hand behind her back, looking both horrified and pleased at what she had done. Fred and George were gaping at Hermione as if they couldn't believe that Hermione Granger had actually hit a teacher with custard when they weren't even looking.
Nicole looked proud and flung a goblet full of pumpkin juice at Professor Trelawnrey, whom she had met last year and did not particularly like. It hit with a satisfying splatter as the goblet rolled away from having smashed into one of the Divination teachers many golden bracelets. Trelawnrey groped madly for her hankerchief, trying to clear her glasses of the sticky drink. The biggest food fight in the entire past seven years then commenced, and even Willow joined in, "accidentally" pinning Professor Snape's arms under a large turkey that had escaped most of the explosions. Hagrid sent a large orange hurtling McGonagall's way, but then Filch stood up and received it full in the face. He retrieved it, glared at it, then threw it aimlessly towards the door. At that moment, a house elf trotted in to see what all the ruckus was about and got the orange in the chest. After picking herself up of the floor, the elf squeaked and ran back to the kitchens, her white tea-towel flapping.
Dumbledore finally restored order by levitating all the food so no students could get at it-- several tried. He coughed. "Yes, yes, this all quite fun, especially from a by-stander's point of view," he said, his eyes twinkling. "But I'm afraid it will have to stop now, as it happens to be bed-time for all you custard-hurtling students." Harry could have sworn his amused eyes flashed briefly in the direction of Hermione. "Anyway, hurry off to bed now."
The tired students headed out the double doors and to their various houses. As well as, Harry thought privately, the showers to wash all that food off.
They got the password from a prefect (Waddlesnouts) and climbed the stairs into their dormitories. Within seconds, Harry was fast asleep.
A/N: Well, that was better, don't ya think? I really appreciate reviews, so, if you'd care to join my crew and help me out and make me a better writer, and make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside to the point of going hugging complete strangers and scaring people out of their wits.... and, well, you get the point.
Lizyrd, a proud member of pyscotic reptiles anonymous. (PRA).