AN: Cloe: Oookay I've fixed this, it's been beta-ed, fixed yeah, yeah.
Disclaimer: Not ours, J.K's.
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Guardian Angel from Hell
Chapter Nine, In Which I am late and then must fix it
A Harry Potter Fanfiction
By Gryffith and Cloe
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Chapter Nine
Harry glanced at his two friends, the red head next to him and the brunette at the other end of the table, his expression filled with confusion, anger and worry. Even though the rest of the Great Hall shouted and laughed and ate with even more than its usual enthusiasm, fueled by the day's pranks on Professor Snape, no member of the famous Gryffindor trio could manage to utter more than half-hearted laconic replies to fellow classmates. Hermione glowered at her untouched plate of steaming mashed potatoes and stewed radishes, oblivious to the maelstrom of gossip surrounding her on all sides. Ron grimaced when he realized his little sister Ginny was no where in sight, and neither was that 6th year Ravenclaw he'd seen her with on Tuesday, and the corners of his mouth plunged further with every guess at the identity of the mysterious prankster. Circe, Circe, Circe, Circe...MALFOY!
In an effort to distract his mind, Harry tilted his head back like he did when he wanted to enjoy a panorama of tranquil spheres of fiery light, but a steady pitter patter of icy rain and small chunks of hail tapped like thousands of broken metronomes on the ceiling. Terrific... things just keep getting better and better! Harry sighed and glanced over at the professors' table. At the far end Professor Vector scribbled at something Harry couldn't see. Harry's green eyes zeroed in on Professor Vector quickly before moving on to the teachers next to him.
"No wonder Hermione likes him and his class," Harry mused to himself, "They're so alike."
Professor Trelawney, deigning to eat in the Great Hall as she did on a rare occasion and McGonagall talked quietly, quarreling if their expressions were any clue. Dumbledore, seated with Professor Sprout between himself and the loggerhead teachers, amused himself by following the conversation, stroking his beard, as a little boy would twiddle his thumbs. Professor Sprout leaned toward the other two women after a few minutes, obviously contributing to the debate information favorable to Professor McGonagall, a telling tilt to the Transfiguration teacher's chin and perhaps a triumphant smirk clueing Harry in, but from this distance Harry couldn't tell and even if he had he wouldn't have believed he had seen Minerva McGonagall smirk.
On the other side of Dumbledore sat Professor Flitwick and Madams Hooch and Pomfrey. Pomfrey sat between the two, turned towards Flitwick with her usual careworn, fusspot pucker, her pursed lips moving a mile a minute while the Charms teacher took his covert revenge by dancing his wand under the table and enchanting Madam Hooch's fork and knife to come just short of stabbing the back of Pomfrey's primped gray head. Both Harry and Madam Hooch snickered at the aggressive silver ware and the oblivious Pomfrey.
Harry noticed Professor Snape's empty chair set between Hooch and the placidly dining Hagrid, and the seventh year briefly remembered that Snape was probably trying to wash out the last of Circe's dye before flicking his eyes back to Trelawney and her glittering bangles, ring, and bracelets and swinging hoop earrings. The psychic stood up with a theatrical flair and stormed off the dais in a perverted moonwalk, knocking into Snape on her way so that she tripped and fell into the wall with much less than her usual grace. Harry grinned at her infuriated stance and Snape's refusal to apologize, incidentally jacking Harry's respect for the Potions teacher up a notch in spite himself.
Sitting back smugly, Harry crossed his arms and thought himself quite the observer after watching all of the teachers and interpreting what they were doing. That is, until Ron jabbed him in the shoulder and pointed at the 40' by 20' message scrolling across the wall behind the Professors' table in huge flamboyant vivid violet lettering:
"Farewell to the know-it-alls,
Farewell to the Fluff-For-Brains,
No longer will I haunt your halls,
My memory will be all that remains,
Feel a little freer
This place feels too drear,
Things at times should run-a-muck
Therefore, don't forget to DUCK!"
Harry had hardly read the last word when his tomato soup splashed, splattering blood red splotches all over his face and robes. Porcelain plates, platters, and bowls clattered, some smashing, on all four of the house tables and up on the teachers' table. Small white spheres of ice, all the size of a small marble, rolled about on the table top and on the floor, only to jump frantically as more balls of ice dived and crashed into the stone and wood surfaces.
"HAILSTORM!"
"Nice way to state the obvious," Hermione grumbled to herself as she joined the professors and the Headboy and Headgirl in shouting umbrella charms to protect the students, confounded by some sort of oily spell that wouldn't let the charms take hold.
The wind picked up, to put it mildly, and howled throughout the hall, blowing out all the lights in the enormous room, not caring whether the lights were flickering flame or magic globes that normally couldn't be touched by any typical movement of air. Whipping the hailstones into a cylindrical cyclone with all of the student strapped within the eye of the storm, the wind whistled and cackled, enhanced by the light female soprano voice singing in the background.
Hermione ran to one of the exits and tried to open a window in the wall of whirling hailstones but none of the charms she constructed could withstand the battering. She shivered and looked around...everything looked like it had been dusted with confectioner sugar! Grumbling, she dusted the frozen flakes off her immaculate black sleeves and promised herself a hot bath after freezing Circe in a block of ice. She opened her mouth to curse the time traveler she knew was somewhere and instead a mouthful of crystallized fluff flew in and started choking her, followed by blankets of heavy snow, burying her in a huge snowdrift.
Ron stood up furiously, searching the covers of the hall, shaking his fist in hurt fury and damaged pride. That Malfoy had a lot to answer for!
Unexpectedly the snow banks started to shrink from the bottom up. The freshly melted snow flowed over boots and chairs into the far corner of the hall forming a nice little wading pool. The air shimmered with heat and the floor was almost hot enough to melt the soles of their shoes, causing many students to stand on their chairs to avoid the heated stone. Ron shook his dripping hands, spraying Harry in the face with water drops stained with juices absorbed from the tomato soup and the venison. Harry made a face at the redhead and wiped his hands on the already red-stained black robe, soon wiping his face of the sweat that dripped down his forehead. He ignored his friend's grimace as Harry shed his robe in the heat, thankful for his habit of always swearing jeans and a tee-shirt underneath the heavy black cloth. Ron, born and bred a wizard rarely wore anything other that his customary robes and therefore couldn't afford the luxury of shedding them.
Once he had tucked the bundle of his robes away, Harry looked at Ron and followed his friend's awed and almost fearful glance at the tall trees characteristic of a jungle being transfigured out of the tall columns adorning the side of the Great Hall. Leafy vines and tendrils stretched upwards until the enchanted ceiling was but a shadow hiding behind a leafy canopy and yellow and orange blossoms spring to brilliance all along the tapering leafy ceiling. A few of the exotic blooms gave way to pearly violet pigeons which flew down to perch on the stone gargoyles cluttering the wall or to deep purple spiraling fruit like corkscrews which broke free from their thin stems and plunged down towards the heads of the students, smashing into a pulpy mess that rapidly crystallized into amethyst bits.
Suddenly a high screeching KREEEEE shot through the air followed by the sight of the depiction of the bronze Ravenclaw eagle from the royal blue banner hanging by the Ravenclaw table fleshing into a living breathing creature. Students shrieked as the eagle, large even for that hefty species of bird, flapped free of the cloth and raked its onyx talons inches from the heads of the many students to perch on the scrolling top of Professor Flitwick's chair.
Dumbly, Harry remembered that Flitwick was head of the Ravenclaw house, so it was only natural that the eagle would fly to him...more high-pitched screams pierced the thick, humid, jungle atmosphere and Harry's head swiveled back to see the Gryffindor lion clawing the crimson banner to shreds, the Slytherin serpent twining its way up one of the huge trees, and the Hufflepuff badger padding over to a corner of the hall and growling at the students nearest her.
Eyes wide, he turned back to the teachers to see their reactions: Professor Vector had bundled up his papers and was shouting cleaning charms at the floor and tables, flanked by Madame Pomfrey who bossily cried out similar spells. Professor McGonagall had climbed on top of her place setting on the teachers' table, shouting out orders to anyone who would listen, comparable to Snape's acid directions at the other end of the room. Professors Sprout and Flitwick did what they did best; Sprout examined the luscious growths and rattled off incantation after spell after charm after incantation to make the plants safely begin to shrink or recoil while Flitwick called out encasement charms to trap the enchanted animals and to shield the students from falling fruit. Madame Hooch must have disappeared...no, she must have summoned her broom for Harry could see her swooping in the air casting spells from her vantage point above them all.
Hermione shook herself off, still drenched from the snow. She could see Ron picking up chunks of amethyst and pocketing them while Harry watched the progress of the teachers, neither giving a damn about her, and then crept out of the hall silently.
In an hour that might have been it for what he knew to be Circe's prank, but out of the corner of his eye Harry glimpsed a swarm of squeaking black winged bats swooping out of the far entrance by the teachers' table. He didn't even bother to try to stifle the laughter that resulted from the immediately following hysterical Professor Trelawney, chased by a bunch of bats carrying the streamer, "Don't hide from the fun AGAIN you old DING BAT!!!"
The divination professor sobbed and bawled, wringing her guano covered handkerchief, which looked much like the rest of her; all her clothes were crusted by the pasty green goop that inevitably fell out of a bat's backside once he was done with it.
McGonagall took one look at the other professor and, startled, began to smile, chuckle, and finally laugh until her sides split unbearably, needless to say not helping Trelawney's affronted mood much.
Snape smirked and called out to the afflicted witch, "Finally met up with some relatives that find they don't like you very much, Sybil?"
"Shut UP, Severus!" she wailed, plopping down on the floor where Madame Pomfrey promptly tripped over her, landing sprawled on the ground several feet away.
"Way to help out, Sybil!" Pomfrey snarled and stomped off.
"Doesn't anyone care!?" Professor Trelawney bawled her thick-rimmed glasses hanging askew and her carefully pale face coming out in unbecoming red blotches.
"No! Now make yourself useful or leave!" Pomfrey called over her shoulder. Harry's jaw dropped in amazement, but then he figured that Trelawney more often than not was never as sick or as powerful as she claimed.
After what just happened, Ron wanted only to go up to bed and laugh himself into an exhausted and well-earned sleep, but Harry, grabbing his arm and pulling him down another corridor, had other ideas. The redhead groaned when he realized where they were headed: up innumerable flights of stairs to the old wing of the school they had first taken Circe to when she had first arrived, although the trio used it for more than just unexpected visitors from the future. The room could only be reached by climbing up seven flights of stairs and going down a winding staircase of about 5 flights. Harry, Hermione, and Ron had found the wing and a particular room into which they liked to go to escape teachers, Mrs. Norris, and Moaning Myrtle. As much as, room had benefits, such as being completely safe for sharing secrets and planning pranks. Ron complained all the way there every time of the unsafe and plentiful stairs, the wing had been abandoned in the first place on the grounds of teachers' and staff complaints.
They reached the old transfiguration room particularly favored by the trio and Harry shoved the door aside, then jumped back. Inside a figure silhouetted against the sunset lifted its head, shadows played darkly across the face, light dancing off the tearstains on the cheeks.
"Hermione!" Harry stepped inside, reaching for her, but the girl's eyes narrowed and glowered at the boys. Hermione stood up and shoved the two of them aside as she stormed out the door and down the corridor back to the school.
Harry started to run after her, but a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him back, "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Right now she hates your bloody guts and the last thing she wants is one of you to try to make her feel all nice and happy. She doesn't want to look like an idiot when you go and tell her how stupid she is to carry on like this. Let her enjoy the sulk."
Ron slapped the hand away from his friend and glared down at Circe, enjoying the advantage his height gave him, yet the girl merely peered up at him and smirked patronizingly. Infuriated by the insolence, and conveniently forgetting his own acts of insolence when in contact with teachers, Ron shoved her with one hand in the shoulder, but the force caused her to stumble back and slam into the other wall.
The redhead turned to go into the room and leave Circe where she was, but the other boy grabbed her arm roughly and all but threw her into the room and then slammed the door behind him and Ron. Flooding his anger and confusion into his glare, Harry crossed his arms and snapped at Circe, "You have a lot of explaining to do!"
Circe nursed her arm and shoulder gingerly, shivering violently and ignoring the boys. Carefully and calculatingly, the girl forced herself to take deep, controlled breaths and blow them each out as slowly as humanly possible until the shuddering died off. Then she took out the Marauder's Map and toyed with it in her white, childlike hands, "I guess you found me out with this. It's sad, really. You know barely anything about me and what you do know is favorable, at least I hope you think it's favorable, and yet you are willing to assume that I am evil incarnate because of my surname. Is it such an atrocious crime to be my father's daughter?"
Ron's jaw clenched until a tic began to jump erratically in his lower cheek and then spat the words, "Once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy!"
When Harry nodded fervently in agreement, Circe hopped on top of one of the desks, "Shut up! What the hell is that supposed to mean, "Once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy!" It doesn't make sense! Do you think I chose to be the spawn of a silvery and slimy politician? Bloody hell, you boys are as thickheaded as the two blokes that follow Draco around, and they look empty-headed enough to believe he was their god or something. Who are they, anyway?"
"They're Crabbe and Goyle-" Harry began, but Ron interrupted, "You cannot possibly be comparing us to those idiots, hand-chosen to be Malfoy's slaves by Lucius himself! And how in the entire wizarding world could you not know them? As adults they must be around your house as much as Malfoy himself is!"
Circe rolled her eyes and frowned down at the boys condescendingly, "You boys think you know Draco Malfoy. You think you've go this character down pat. I do recognize the names, but only because they were in the news once or twice, being arrested. I've never seen them before in my life though, and if my grandfather handpicked them, it would explain a few things, because if they even came near our house Father would have flayed them alive. You see, Father disowned the Dark Arts when I was five and after that only had enough contact with Grandfather to confiscate his property and put him into an old-folks home!"
The boys swallowed, rolling the words around on their tongues and slowly accepting the information, and Circe took the opportunity to add dryly, "Of course, the only reason Father did so was to get elected. In that respect, he is very slimy. As much as he is an advocate of the eradication of the Dark Arts, he doesn't help much."
The girl grinned smugly, but Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know what she was so happy about. Instead, he leaned against the wall, a few feet from the door, and queried as calmly as the sudden flood of realizations allowed him to be, "So, you've told us all of this, but what do you expect us to do with it?"
Circe sighed and sat on top of the desk, "I only wanted you to not think of me as just another Malfoy. And, whatever else you want to do with it is up to you. At the moment, I'm exhausted and want to go to bed. All that weather working was exhausting!"
Ron snickered at the memory and yawned. The girl hopped down from the desk and strode over to the door, handing Harry the map as she passed him to put her hand on the doorknob. Her fingers closed around it, then paused and stiffened. "Someone out there," she muttered. She grabbed a handful of Ron's shirt, as he was nearest her, and in one movement opened the door and threw him out into the hallway. Harry followed more willingly, the boys glanced around to see who was walking around in the abandoned wing, and a flash of red hair caught their eyes as a figure turned the corner.
"Ginny! What are you doing here?" Ron demanded. A moment later Harry blurted, "You're a girl, what's up with Hermione?"
The youngest Weasley stared at the boys with a look akin to the one worn by rabbits staring into the headlights of a car, and then the two different questions processed though her brain. Smirking, she chose Harry's question, walking quickly over to them and heaving her armful of books into Ron's startled embrace. Leaning back, she ticked off her fingers, "Well, one thing's that obvious is that she's as mad as hornets at the pair of you. And then there's the fact that she's been hanging out with the girls in her and my dorm rooms, which means she doesn't want you blokes to think that she needs you two and is pining away in agony."
Harry pointed to the room they had just come from agitatedly, "But when we got here she was in here crying!"
Ginny rolled her eyes, "Oh honestly! You boys are really thick! Hermione hates that bunch of gossips and snobs as much as she can hate anyone. Earlier they seemed to be the lesser evil, but she couldn't stand them so she came here where she could cry in peace."
Ron started to speak, but Ginny held her hand out to stop him, "Nope, she wouldn't go to her dorm room to cry. Those girls would have swooped down and picked her to pieces to find out what the matter was, partly to try to help but mostly to get something interesting to talk about, and Hermione knows it."
"But...where else would she go then? We should talk to her and-" Harry floundered, only to be interrupted by Ginny again.
"Hermione would either be in Myrtle's bathroom or in the library, but after Myrtle made her feel completely disgusted with herself and her surroundings, she'd go to the library anyway. And don't even think of talking to her tonight. You'll make her feel like a fool and that's the last thing she wants to feel like."
"And how would you know all this!" Ron demanded indignantly.
Again, Ginny smiled demurely and ticked off her fingers, "I know this by being observant, knowledgeable in such situations, and simply being wiser in the ways of women than you blockheads are. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other womanly duties to tend to."
Ron stared at her hard until she burst out laughing and took her books back. The older brother glared at her, "And what womanly duties would those be, missy? Answer me, Ginny! Would Mum like to know about them? I'll tell her, you know I will!"
Ginny laughed, winked at Harry, and walked to the end of the corridor and turned left out of sight. As soon as echoes of her laughter died down a male voice called out her name and while Ginny was replying, Harry was manhandling Ron to keep the redhead from going in and killing whoever was meeting his sister.
"Ron! Ron! Stop it! Ron!" Harry braced himself and held on to his friend for all that he was worth, but the redhead wasn't listening to him, only to the echoes of that male voice.
Circe poked her head out of the door and caught sight of Ron. Knowing that Harry's grip was secure, at least for the moment, she leaned on Ron's shoulder, "So, Harry. Am I not a girl?"
Harry grunted, "Care to help me out here?"
Circe examined her nails, "What am I?"
"What in the bloody hell does that have anything to do with anything!?"
"You could have asked me about Hermione," Circe chanted in a singsong voice and rested her cheek on Ron's oblivious shoulder.
Ron exerted a little more force and Harry skidded on the tiled floor a little before regaining his balance. Green eyes flashed as Harry cried, "A girl! You're a girl, all right?"
Circe smiled and, straining to get her lips high enough, brushed some locks of red hair to the side and whispered loudly into the revealed ear, "You're just jealous that she's getting more than you are."
The redhead stood straight, putting Circe off-balance and toppling her to the floor, and glared down at her, "I WHAT!"
The blonde used the wall to help herself to her feet and brushed her robe off, then turned and smiled at Harry, "Is that what you had in mind?"
Harry immediately had a coughing fit so that he wouldn't have to answer. Circe took this as her cue to leave. Walking back towards the main building, she called over her shoulder to Ron, "You know, I've always admired your sister. She's never needed anyone's help to get what she wants."
The boys gaped after her, and stood there for a few minutes, simply reviewing what had just happened or if it had happened at all. Harry's hands worried the parchment in his hands, and then he looked down to unroll the map, remembering that he had it. He tapped the parchment with his wand, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," and watched the ink draw itself into the map of Hogwarts.
Ron watched the magic work as well, although he had seen it many times before and wasn't awed, as he had been when Harry had first shown him the prize. The boys stood there thoughtfully, Harry chewing his lip and Ron scratching his head. At last, Harry wiped the map clean by tapping it again; "Mischief managed. I...how in all bloody hell did Circe know how to work this thing?"
Disclaimer: Not ours, J.K's.
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Guardian Angel from Hell
Chapter Nine, In Which I am late and then must fix it
A Harry Potter Fanfiction
By Gryffith and Cloe
********************
Chapter Nine
Harry glanced at his two friends, the red head next to him and the brunette at the other end of the table, his expression filled with confusion, anger and worry. Even though the rest of the Great Hall shouted and laughed and ate with even more than its usual enthusiasm, fueled by the day's pranks on Professor Snape, no member of the famous Gryffindor trio could manage to utter more than half-hearted laconic replies to fellow classmates. Hermione glowered at her untouched plate of steaming mashed potatoes and stewed radishes, oblivious to the maelstrom of gossip surrounding her on all sides. Ron grimaced when he realized his little sister Ginny was no where in sight, and neither was that 6th year Ravenclaw he'd seen her with on Tuesday, and the corners of his mouth plunged further with every guess at the identity of the mysterious prankster. Circe, Circe, Circe, Circe...MALFOY!
In an effort to distract his mind, Harry tilted his head back like he did when he wanted to enjoy a panorama of tranquil spheres of fiery light, but a steady pitter patter of icy rain and small chunks of hail tapped like thousands of broken metronomes on the ceiling. Terrific... things just keep getting better and better! Harry sighed and glanced over at the professors' table. At the far end Professor Vector scribbled at something Harry couldn't see. Harry's green eyes zeroed in on Professor Vector quickly before moving on to the teachers next to him.
"No wonder Hermione likes him and his class," Harry mused to himself, "They're so alike."
Professor Trelawney, deigning to eat in the Great Hall as she did on a rare occasion and McGonagall talked quietly, quarreling if their expressions were any clue. Dumbledore, seated with Professor Sprout between himself and the loggerhead teachers, amused himself by following the conversation, stroking his beard, as a little boy would twiddle his thumbs. Professor Sprout leaned toward the other two women after a few minutes, obviously contributing to the debate information favorable to Professor McGonagall, a telling tilt to the Transfiguration teacher's chin and perhaps a triumphant smirk clueing Harry in, but from this distance Harry couldn't tell and even if he had he wouldn't have believed he had seen Minerva McGonagall smirk.
On the other side of Dumbledore sat Professor Flitwick and Madams Hooch and Pomfrey. Pomfrey sat between the two, turned towards Flitwick with her usual careworn, fusspot pucker, her pursed lips moving a mile a minute while the Charms teacher took his covert revenge by dancing his wand under the table and enchanting Madam Hooch's fork and knife to come just short of stabbing the back of Pomfrey's primped gray head. Both Harry and Madam Hooch snickered at the aggressive silver ware and the oblivious Pomfrey.
Harry noticed Professor Snape's empty chair set between Hooch and the placidly dining Hagrid, and the seventh year briefly remembered that Snape was probably trying to wash out the last of Circe's dye before flicking his eyes back to Trelawney and her glittering bangles, ring, and bracelets and swinging hoop earrings. The psychic stood up with a theatrical flair and stormed off the dais in a perverted moonwalk, knocking into Snape on her way so that she tripped and fell into the wall with much less than her usual grace. Harry grinned at her infuriated stance and Snape's refusal to apologize, incidentally jacking Harry's respect for the Potions teacher up a notch in spite himself.
Sitting back smugly, Harry crossed his arms and thought himself quite the observer after watching all of the teachers and interpreting what they were doing. That is, until Ron jabbed him in the shoulder and pointed at the 40' by 20' message scrolling across the wall behind the Professors' table in huge flamboyant vivid violet lettering:
"Farewell to the know-it-alls,
Farewell to the Fluff-For-Brains,
No longer will I haunt your halls,
My memory will be all that remains,
Feel a little freer
This place feels too drear,
Things at times should run-a-muck
Therefore, don't forget to DUCK!"
Harry had hardly read the last word when his tomato soup splashed, splattering blood red splotches all over his face and robes. Porcelain plates, platters, and bowls clattered, some smashing, on all four of the house tables and up on the teachers' table. Small white spheres of ice, all the size of a small marble, rolled about on the table top and on the floor, only to jump frantically as more balls of ice dived and crashed into the stone and wood surfaces.
"HAILSTORM!"
"Nice way to state the obvious," Hermione grumbled to herself as she joined the professors and the Headboy and Headgirl in shouting umbrella charms to protect the students, confounded by some sort of oily spell that wouldn't let the charms take hold.
The wind picked up, to put it mildly, and howled throughout the hall, blowing out all the lights in the enormous room, not caring whether the lights were flickering flame or magic globes that normally couldn't be touched by any typical movement of air. Whipping the hailstones into a cylindrical cyclone with all of the student strapped within the eye of the storm, the wind whistled and cackled, enhanced by the light female soprano voice singing in the background.
Hermione ran to one of the exits and tried to open a window in the wall of whirling hailstones but none of the charms she constructed could withstand the battering. She shivered and looked around...everything looked like it had been dusted with confectioner sugar! Grumbling, she dusted the frozen flakes off her immaculate black sleeves and promised herself a hot bath after freezing Circe in a block of ice. She opened her mouth to curse the time traveler she knew was somewhere and instead a mouthful of crystallized fluff flew in and started choking her, followed by blankets of heavy snow, burying her in a huge snowdrift.
Ron stood up furiously, searching the covers of the hall, shaking his fist in hurt fury and damaged pride. That Malfoy had a lot to answer for!
Unexpectedly the snow banks started to shrink from the bottom up. The freshly melted snow flowed over boots and chairs into the far corner of the hall forming a nice little wading pool. The air shimmered with heat and the floor was almost hot enough to melt the soles of their shoes, causing many students to stand on their chairs to avoid the heated stone. Ron shook his dripping hands, spraying Harry in the face with water drops stained with juices absorbed from the tomato soup and the venison. Harry made a face at the redhead and wiped his hands on the already red-stained black robe, soon wiping his face of the sweat that dripped down his forehead. He ignored his friend's grimace as Harry shed his robe in the heat, thankful for his habit of always swearing jeans and a tee-shirt underneath the heavy black cloth. Ron, born and bred a wizard rarely wore anything other that his customary robes and therefore couldn't afford the luxury of shedding them.
Once he had tucked the bundle of his robes away, Harry looked at Ron and followed his friend's awed and almost fearful glance at the tall trees characteristic of a jungle being transfigured out of the tall columns adorning the side of the Great Hall. Leafy vines and tendrils stretched upwards until the enchanted ceiling was but a shadow hiding behind a leafy canopy and yellow and orange blossoms spring to brilliance all along the tapering leafy ceiling. A few of the exotic blooms gave way to pearly violet pigeons which flew down to perch on the stone gargoyles cluttering the wall or to deep purple spiraling fruit like corkscrews which broke free from their thin stems and plunged down towards the heads of the students, smashing into a pulpy mess that rapidly crystallized into amethyst bits.
Suddenly a high screeching KREEEEE shot through the air followed by the sight of the depiction of the bronze Ravenclaw eagle from the royal blue banner hanging by the Ravenclaw table fleshing into a living breathing creature. Students shrieked as the eagle, large even for that hefty species of bird, flapped free of the cloth and raked its onyx talons inches from the heads of the many students to perch on the scrolling top of Professor Flitwick's chair.
Dumbly, Harry remembered that Flitwick was head of the Ravenclaw house, so it was only natural that the eagle would fly to him...more high-pitched screams pierced the thick, humid, jungle atmosphere and Harry's head swiveled back to see the Gryffindor lion clawing the crimson banner to shreds, the Slytherin serpent twining its way up one of the huge trees, and the Hufflepuff badger padding over to a corner of the hall and growling at the students nearest her.
Eyes wide, he turned back to the teachers to see their reactions: Professor Vector had bundled up his papers and was shouting cleaning charms at the floor and tables, flanked by Madame Pomfrey who bossily cried out similar spells. Professor McGonagall had climbed on top of her place setting on the teachers' table, shouting out orders to anyone who would listen, comparable to Snape's acid directions at the other end of the room. Professors Sprout and Flitwick did what they did best; Sprout examined the luscious growths and rattled off incantation after spell after charm after incantation to make the plants safely begin to shrink or recoil while Flitwick called out encasement charms to trap the enchanted animals and to shield the students from falling fruit. Madame Hooch must have disappeared...no, she must have summoned her broom for Harry could see her swooping in the air casting spells from her vantage point above them all.
Hermione shook herself off, still drenched from the snow. She could see Ron picking up chunks of amethyst and pocketing them while Harry watched the progress of the teachers, neither giving a damn about her, and then crept out of the hall silently.
In an hour that might have been it for what he knew to be Circe's prank, but out of the corner of his eye Harry glimpsed a swarm of squeaking black winged bats swooping out of the far entrance by the teachers' table. He didn't even bother to try to stifle the laughter that resulted from the immediately following hysterical Professor Trelawney, chased by a bunch of bats carrying the streamer, "Don't hide from the fun AGAIN you old DING BAT!!!"
The divination professor sobbed and bawled, wringing her guano covered handkerchief, which looked much like the rest of her; all her clothes were crusted by the pasty green goop that inevitably fell out of a bat's backside once he was done with it.
McGonagall took one look at the other professor and, startled, began to smile, chuckle, and finally laugh until her sides split unbearably, needless to say not helping Trelawney's affronted mood much.
Snape smirked and called out to the afflicted witch, "Finally met up with some relatives that find they don't like you very much, Sybil?"
"Shut UP, Severus!" she wailed, plopping down on the floor where Madame Pomfrey promptly tripped over her, landing sprawled on the ground several feet away.
"Way to help out, Sybil!" Pomfrey snarled and stomped off.
"Doesn't anyone care!?" Professor Trelawney bawled her thick-rimmed glasses hanging askew and her carefully pale face coming out in unbecoming red blotches.
"No! Now make yourself useful or leave!" Pomfrey called over her shoulder. Harry's jaw dropped in amazement, but then he figured that Trelawney more often than not was never as sick or as powerful as she claimed.
After what just happened, Ron wanted only to go up to bed and laugh himself into an exhausted and well-earned sleep, but Harry, grabbing his arm and pulling him down another corridor, had other ideas. The redhead groaned when he realized where they were headed: up innumerable flights of stairs to the old wing of the school they had first taken Circe to when she had first arrived, although the trio used it for more than just unexpected visitors from the future. The room could only be reached by climbing up seven flights of stairs and going down a winding staircase of about 5 flights. Harry, Hermione, and Ron had found the wing and a particular room into which they liked to go to escape teachers, Mrs. Norris, and Moaning Myrtle. As much as, room had benefits, such as being completely safe for sharing secrets and planning pranks. Ron complained all the way there every time of the unsafe and plentiful stairs, the wing had been abandoned in the first place on the grounds of teachers' and staff complaints.
They reached the old transfiguration room particularly favored by the trio and Harry shoved the door aside, then jumped back. Inside a figure silhouetted against the sunset lifted its head, shadows played darkly across the face, light dancing off the tearstains on the cheeks.
"Hermione!" Harry stepped inside, reaching for her, but the girl's eyes narrowed and glowered at the boys. Hermione stood up and shoved the two of them aside as she stormed out the door and down the corridor back to the school.
Harry started to run after her, but a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him back, "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Right now she hates your bloody guts and the last thing she wants is one of you to try to make her feel all nice and happy. She doesn't want to look like an idiot when you go and tell her how stupid she is to carry on like this. Let her enjoy the sulk."
Ron slapped the hand away from his friend and glared down at Circe, enjoying the advantage his height gave him, yet the girl merely peered up at him and smirked patronizingly. Infuriated by the insolence, and conveniently forgetting his own acts of insolence when in contact with teachers, Ron shoved her with one hand in the shoulder, but the force caused her to stumble back and slam into the other wall.
The redhead turned to go into the room and leave Circe where she was, but the other boy grabbed her arm roughly and all but threw her into the room and then slammed the door behind him and Ron. Flooding his anger and confusion into his glare, Harry crossed his arms and snapped at Circe, "You have a lot of explaining to do!"
Circe nursed her arm and shoulder gingerly, shivering violently and ignoring the boys. Carefully and calculatingly, the girl forced herself to take deep, controlled breaths and blow them each out as slowly as humanly possible until the shuddering died off. Then she took out the Marauder's Map and toyed with it in her white, childlike hands, "I guess you found me out with this. It's sad, really. You know barely anything about me and what you do know is favorable, at least I hope you think it's favorable, and yet you are willing to assume that I am evil incarnate because of my surname. Is it such an atrocious crime to be my father's daughter?"
Ron's jaw clenched until a tic began to jump erratically in his lower cheek and then spat the words, "Once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy!"
When Harry nodded fervently in agreement, Circe hopped on top of one of the desks, "Shut up! What the hell is that supposed to mean, "Once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy!" It doesn't make sense! Do you think I chose to be the spawn of a silvery and slimy politician? Bloody hell, you boys are as thickheaded as the two blokes that follow Draco around, and they look empty-headed enough to believe he was their god or something. Who are they, anyway?"
"They're Crabbe and Goyle-" Harry began, but Ron interrupted, "You cannot possibly be comparing us to those idiots, hand-chosen to be Malfoy's slaves by Lucius himself! And how in the entire wizarding world could you not know them? As adults they must be around your house as much as Malfoy himself is!"
Circe rolled her eyes and frowned down at the boys condescendingly, "You boys think you know Draco Malfoy. You think you've go this character down pat. I do recognize the names, but only because they were in the news once or twice, being arrested. I've never seen them before in my life though, and if my grandfather handpicked them, it would explain a few things, because if they even came near our house Father would have flayed them alive. You see, Father disowned the Dark Arts when I was five and after that only had enough contact with Grandfather to confiscate his property and put him into an old-folks home!"
The boys swallowed, rolling the words around on their tongues and slowly accepting the information, and Circe took the opportunity to add dryly, "Of course, the only reason Father did so was to get elected. In that respect, he is very slimy. As much as he is an advocate of the eradication of the Dark Arts, he doesn't help much."
The girl grinned smugly, but Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know what she was so happy about. Instead, he leaned against the wall, a few feet from the door, and queried as calmly as the sudden flood of realizations allowed him to be, "So, you've told us all of this, but what do you expect us to do with it?"
Circe sighed and sat on top of the desk, "I only wanted you to not think of me as just another Malfoy. And, whatever else you want to do with it is up to you. At the moment, I'm exhausted and want to go to bed. All that weather working was exhausting!"
Ron snickered at the memory and yawned. The girl hopped down from the desk and strode over to the door, handing Harry the map as she passed him to put her hand on the doorknob. Her fingers closed around it, then paused and stiffened. "Someone out there," she muttered. She grabbed a handful of Ron's shirt, as he was nearest her, and in one movement opened the door and threw him out into the hallway. Harry followed more willingly, the boys glanced around to see who was walking around in the abandoned wing, and a flash of red hair caught their eyes as a figure turned the corner.
"Ginny! What are you doing here?" Ron demanded. A moment later Harry blurted, "You're a girl, what's up with Hermione?"
The youngest Weasley stared at the boys with a look akin to the one worn by rabbits staring into the headlights of a car, and then the two different questions processed though her brain. Smirking, she chose Harry's question, walking quickly over to them and heaving her armful of books into Ron's startled embrace. Leaning back, she ticked off her fingers, "Well, one thing's that obvious is that she's as mad as hornets at the pair of you. And then there's the fact that she's been hanging out with the girls in her and my dorm rooms, which means she doesn't want you blokes to think that she needs you two and is pining away in agony."
Harry pointed to the room they had just come from agitatedly, "But when we got here she was in here crying!"
Ginny rolled her eyes, "Oh honestly! You boys are really thick! Hermione hates that bunch of gossips and snobs as much as she can hate anyone. Earlier they seemed to be the lesser evil, but she couldn't stand them so she came here where she could cry in peace."
Ron started to speak, but Ginny held her hand out to stop him, "Nope, she wouldn't go to her dorm room to cry. Those girls would have swooped down and picked her to pieces to find out what the matter was, partly to try to help but mostly to get something interesting to talk about, and Hermione knows it."
"But...where else would she go then? We should talk to her and-" Harry floundered, only to be interrupted by Ginny again.
"Hermione would either be in Myrtle's bathroom or in the library, but after Myrtle made her feel completely disgusted with herself and her surroundings, she'd go to the library anyway. And don't even think of talking to her tonight. You'll make her feel like a fool and that's the last thing she wants to feel like."
"And how would you know all this!" Ron demanded indignantly.
Again, Ginny smiled demurely and ticked off her fingers, "I know this by being observant, knowledgeable in such situations, and simply being wiser in the ways of women than you blockheads are. Now if you'll excuse me, I have other womanly duties to tend to."
Ron stared at her hard until she burst out laughing and took her books back. The older brother glared at her, "And what womanly duties would those be, missy? Answer me, Ginny! Would Mum like to know about them? I'll tell her, you know I will!"
Ginny laughed, winked at Harry, and walked to the end of the corridor and turned left out of sight. As soon as echoes of her laughter died down a male voice called out her name and while Ginny was replying, Harry was manhandling Ron to keep the redhead from going in and killing whoever was meeting his sister.
"Ron! Ron! Stop it! Ron!" Harry braced himself and held on to his friend for all that he was worth, but the redhead wasn't listening to him, only to the echoes of that male voice.
Circe poked her head out of the door and caught sight of Ron. Knowing that Harry's grip was secure, at least for the moment, she leaned on Ron's shoulder, "So, Harry. Am I not a girl?"
Harry grunted, "Care to help me out here?"
Circe examined her nails, "What am I?"
"What in the bloody hell does that have anything to do with anything!?"
"You could have asked me about Hermione," Circe chanted in a singsong voice and rested her cheek on Ron's oblivious shoulder.
Ron exerted a little more force and Harry skidded on the tiled floor a little before regaining his balance. Green eyes flashed as Harry cried, "A girl! You're a girl, all right?"
Circe smiled and, straining to get her lips high enough, brushed some locks of red hair to the side and whispered loudly into the revealed ear, "You're just jealous that she's getting more than you are."
The redhead stood straight, putting Circe off-balance and toppling her to the floor, and glared down at her, "I WHAT!"
The blonde used the wall to help herself to her feet and brushed her robe off, then turned and smiled at Harry, "Is that what you had in mind?"
Harry immediately had a coughing fit so that he wouldn't have to answer. Circe took this as her cue to leave. Walking back towards the main building, she called over her shoulder to Ron, "You know, I've always admired your sister. She's never needed anyone's help to get what she wants."
The boys gaped after her, and stood there for a few minutes, simply reviewing what had just happened or if it had happened at all. Harry's hands worried the parchment in his hands, and then he looked down to unroll the map, remembering that he had it. He tapped the parchment with his wand, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," and watched the ink draw itself into the map of Hogwarts.
Ron watched the magic work as well, although he had seen it many times before and wasn't awed, as he had been when Harry had first shown him the prize. The boys stood there thoughtfully, Harry chewing his lip and Ron scratching his head. At last, Harry wiped the map clean by tapping it again; "Mischief managed. I...how in all bloody hell did Circe know how to work this thing?"
