Author's note: In response to a few comments that I received, I will remove the first (introductory) chapter of this fic. I thought it was brilliantly funny, but it seems I was the only one. Also, I made a few changes to the last few chapters, and I think they will ultimately improve the fic. I'm not saying you need to reread them, but… yeah, they're there. Okay, enjoy!

Chapter Six

            "The Spanish Fly Serum?" Harry asked, his voice incredulous.

            Hermione smiled at him. "Yup. Tomorrow night at dinner."

            Harry shook his head in disbelief. "Are you sure Dobby will keep your secret? If they interrogated him seriously enough, he might let on."

            Ron shrugged. "I guess that's the risk we'll have to take mate. But I think we can trust him -- he'd do anything for us. You know that."

            "And then, when everybody tries the turkey… fireworks?" Harry asked, taking another bite of his peas. "I know about this potion, Hermione. It's no light aphrodisiac."

            Hermione laughed. "Yeah, all the better, right?"

            Ron was all smiles. "You were right, Harry. Once I got that first lark under my belt, I've just been hungry for more."

            Harry sighed resignedly, but he could not help the grin that took over his features. "Okay, then."

            Hermione looked at her watch. "I'd better be off," she remarked. "Snape throws a fit if we aren't at least ten minutes early to classes these days."

            Ron tittered. "Have a good time, sweetie," he said. "I'll see you after class."

            "I'm glad I'm not in Potions anymore," Harry chuckled. "You should take a page out of my book, Hermione, and tell that man where he can stick it."

            Hermione made a face. "Yeah, maybe so," she said. "But not today." She stooped over and kissed Ron's forehead, then headed off to the dungeons.

            "Okay, mate," Ron said, pushing his empty plate away from him. "That does it for me. I'm going to hit the restroom and head off to class myself." He stood up and grabbed his bag.

            Harry put up his hand to stop him. "Uh… number one or number two?" he asked, flushing red.

            Ron's eyes narrowed. "What's it to ya, good buddy?"

            "Well, now isn't the best time to, well, sit down to do your business, that's all," Harry remarked feebly.

            "Oh…" Ron moaned, holding his stomach, a look of utter pain on his face. "Don't tell me that, mate. I can't hold it."

            "Okay, hang on," Harry said. He grabbed his own things and stood up. "I'll go with you, then."

            Ten minutes later, the two Gryffindor sixth years were sitting in adjacent stalls in the restroom. Furthermore, it was evident that they were not leaving soon.

            "A sticking charm, Harry?" Ron asked, exasperated.

            "Yup."

            "But not the standard one that everyone knows – ya know, the one that I could actually undo myself."

            "Nope."

            "Mate, you're going to be the death of me."

            "Now look, if I had used the basic charm, then everyone would be able to undo themselves. It wouldn't be a prank, it would just be a nuisance."

            "But you could undo it, couldn't you?"

            Harry frowned. "Not without blowing my cover, no."

            "So, why are you here? You have to crap, too?"

            "Not so much. I just figured that it would look a little suspicious if I consistently avoided all of these pranks."

            "Oh."
            "Yeah."

            "I'm late for class, Harry… and my ass hurts."

            "I'm sorry, Ron. Mine does too."

            They sat in silence for a moment. Harry reverted his attention to the potions textbook and resumed his reading.

            "Doesn't smell so hot, either."

            "I know," Harry said, trying not to laugh. "Believe me, I am painfully aware of that fact. Of course, that much isn't my fault. You're the one who took third helpings of beans."

            "Well, perhaps if I had known I was going to be stuck to the toilet seat, I would have had a salad instead!" Ron raged from the next stall over. "You know… if someone had told me ahead of time, for instance."

            "I'm sorry, Ron. It didn't occur to me that you would need more than a few minutes' of notice."

            Ron's grumblings reached the level of inaudible, then faded to nothingness. Harry worked on committing the Sipowitz Serum to memory.

            "How long d'ya suppose we're going to be here, anyway?"

            Harry sighed. "Well, the good thing is that we enchanted every stall in the building," he told him. "Students all across the building will be stuck in their seats, just like we are. It will only be a matter of time before someone wonders why forty percent of the student body isn't in class and goes looking for us. What's more, you have a perfectly plausible excuse for missing class – they can hardly blame you for it."

            "Harry?"

            "Yes Ron?"

            "Who's your partner on all these mad capers?" Ron asked slyly.

            Harry's eyes went wide, and he was suddenly very glad that the stall was between them. "No one. I work alone."

            "You said we', Harry."
            "What?"
            "You said, we enchanted every stall', not I enchanted every stall'."

            Harry closed his eyes, cursing himself for his own carelessness. "A slip of the tongue. That's all."

            "Do you mean to tell me that you snuck into all of the girls' toilets in the building?"

            "Okay, so I had help."

            "Who is it?"

            "Let's not talk about it," Harry said.

            "Harry!"

            "Hey! You know who would have been my first choice for partner in crime, don't you? My oldest friend, of course. Only he was already partnered up with my other oldest friend. What was I supposed to do?"

            "Okay, Harry," Ron said heavily. "I'll let it go."

            Harry fumed for a couple of minutes. "Okay, Ron, I have to ask."

            "What?"

            "What's with the Spanish Fly Serum?"

            "I thought we already explained it."

            "And pink balloons? Pink, Ron?"

            "What?"

            "I think it's great that you and Hermione make each other so happy, but man… dating her is certainly having it's affects on you."

            Harry could tell that Ron was fidgeting nervously in the next stall. "Well, it's… I don't know, man. I guess… you haven't had a real girlfriend yet, but… it changes a man."

            Harry pondered this. "Yeah, maybe so."

            Several moments later, their peace was interrupted by the arrival of a third guest. They heard him walk through the door to the restroom, cross the room, and open the door to the third and final stall in the restroom. "Merlin's beard!" the other youth exclaimed. "Who laid a dead rat?"

            Harry heard Ron snicker from the next stall over. If he had to guess, Ron also recognized the voice of Colin Creevey. More than that, it seemed that Ron was also willing to let the youth fall into the trap.

            From the third stall, they heard Colin unzip his pants. A clank of the plastic on marble told them that the fifth-year was about to start his business.

            "Colin, is that you?" Ron called.

            "Yeah. Whozzat?"

            "Ron Weasley. Say, aren't you supposed to be in class right now?"

            "History of Magic. I had to take a growler, though, and I don't think Professor Binns even noticed that I left."

            Harry raised an eyebrow in distaste as he heard the unmistakable sounds of bowel movement rent the air.

            "Hey, Colin!" Ron called out again.

            "What, man? I got work to do here!"

            "Do yourself a favor; don't sit down on the toilet, okay?"

            "Why? Did you piss on the seat?" Colin asked accusatorily.          

            "Nah," Ron replied.

            "Well, I've already sat down. Why?"

            "Some jerk-off put a sticking charm on all the toilet seats in the building," Ron explained. "So I hope you're comfortable."

            The thrashing noise from the third stall told Harry that Colin was verifying the statement. "Hey, Ron?"

            "Yes, Colin?"

            "I left my wand with my stuff, back in the classroom. Do you have yours handy?"

            "Way ahead of you, Colin my boy. Unfortunately, the jerk-off I already mentioned, you know, the jerk-off that put us in this situation didn't use the standard sealing charm, and all of our efforts to remove ourselves have come up fruitless."

            Harry rolled his eyes at the stress that Ron used every time he said the word "jerk-off".

            "Oh," Colin said. "Who else is in here?"

            "Hi, Colin," Harry spoke up.

            "Oh hey, Harry."

            "Say, why didn't you guys say something before I sat down?"

            "Would it have stopped you?" Harry asked.

            "Well," Ron pronounced philosophically. "I was going to."

            "Yeah?"

            "And then I remembered the pudding from the other night, and I decided against it," Ron said, laughing viciously.

            "Oh. So, what do we do now?" Colin asked.

            "We wait."

            "Oh," the fourth year said quietly. And then: "It sure does smell in here."

            "Yes, it does," Harry sighed.

            XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

            "Ah, Mr. Potter," Nemo said, his voice thick with delight. "I'm glad to see you that you are on your feet again."
            Harry sat down at his desk and rolled his eyes. It had been Professor Nemo who had shown up, an hour and a half later, to unstick them from the toilet seats. He seemed to take a special joy in finding Harry in such a compromising position. He shrugged. "Well, you know. I've had pretty good luck in staying above all of the petty pranks so far – it was bound to run out eventually."

            Professor Nemo nodded understandingly. "I see. Did you procure the wand yesterday?"

            Harry nodded. "Professor Nemo?" he asked.

            "Yes, Harry?"

            "I didn't know you went to Hogwarts."

            Nemo smiled. "Yes. I graduated the year before you arrived here, actually."

            "Oh. Ravenclaw?"

            "Yes sir," Nemo replied. "And proud of it. Finest house in the school."

            Harry thought about it for a moment. A grin took over his face. "Interesting… so how come you never won the House Championship?" he asked slyly.

            Nemo gave Harry a particularly unpleasant look. "The Slytherins were dirty cheaters," he said jokingly. "But please don't mention that to anyone, okay?"

            "No problem, teach," Harry laughed. "But everyone knows that anyway."
            "So they do," Nemo agreed.

            In retrospect, Harry was increasingly thankful that Nemo had caught him at flooding the school. At the time, of course, it had caused him no end of torture. Ever since Nemo had decided to conceal him, though, they had been able to drop most of the formalities between students and teachers, at least in private. Meeting five times a week for one-on-one training meant that they had a lot of time to themselves. During their sessions, they were free to treat each other as equals, and were quickly becoming friends.

            "Why didn't you go to work for our Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked suddenly.

            "What have you heard?" Nemo said in answer.

            "Mr. Ollivander told me that you and Fudge had a disagreement," Harry told him.

            "Which Fudge? Senior or Junior?"

            "There's a junior?" Harry asked, surprised.

            "Oh yes; Buckley Fudge. Buck and I got along famously, as it happens," Nemo explained. "He and I were Ravenclaw prefects together, and we still keep in touch to this day. We used to raise hell, back in the day, the two of us. I think that is why the Minister disdained me so much. He saw me as a threat to Buck's image, and old Cornelius is trying very hard to have his son succeed him as Minister. As such, he could hardly approve of our misadventures. Oh, the hell we raised…"

            "Like the Weasley twins?"

            Nemo shrugged. "I don't know too much about the Weasley twins, except what I've heard this year. If you don't mind my saying so, we thought of ourselves as a modern version of Potter and Black."

            Harry's throat went tight. He vaguely remembered the Twins mentioning this as well.

            "I suppose that their legend has faded somewhat in the intervening years between my arrival at Hogwarts and yours, Mr. Potter," Nemo said quietly. He was now standing beside the window at the front of the classroom, gazing out over the grounds of the school. "But when I first set foot inside this building, Potter and Black and their exploits were still legendary. I don't know that Buck and I ever gained any ground on them, really, but we tried. Ever since I first came to Hogwarts, I have held the name Potter in high esteem."

            Harry nodded but said nothing.

            "There were many reasons to respect your father, of which his ability to prank was but one. Of course, the legend of The Boy-Who-Lived was spreading rather quickly as well. I must admit that I… I did not see how a boy could be so famous while being so young."
            "I've often wondered," Harry commented morosely.

            "I will tell you also that I looked forward to meeting you, all the way back to my days as a student here. I wanted to know what was so incredible about you," Nemo went on. "I had to find out why you were revered so greatly. This feeling was only exacerbated during my time with the American magical government, when word of your adventures as a student reached my ears. So when Dumbledore contacted me about the DADA post… I jumped at the chance, just to meet you, if nothing else.

            "I can't say that I was surprised to find that your abilities in Defense knew no peer among your classmates. It seemed only natural. And then, Dumbledore told me about the Prophecy, and asked me to coach you personally. Nothing I had been told previously about you prepared for me for the ability you showed in this classroom, Mr. Potter, nor for the readiness with which you accepted your task.

            "I guess… what I am trying to say here is that, in my opinion, you deserve just as much respect as your father, and I don't think I could find a higher compliment than that."

            "Thank you, sir."

            "Well. What do you say we get to work, Mr. Potter?" Nemo returned to his desk and pulled out a pair of wands of his own. "I have much to teach you."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

            The next morning, Harry got out of bed with the sun. He had not had much sleep the night before, but there was business to attend to that day. In a few short hours, the Ravenclaws and the Hufflepuffs would be meeting on the Quidditch pitch, and Harry had worked hard to ensure that pandemonium was in the game plan. He dressed quickly and made sure that he was ready. He paced the grey room in silence for a few minutes, then lost patience and woke up Ron, dragging him down to breakfast.

            Breakfast was a subdued affair. Hermione and Ron had been out late, and were rather tired as a result. Harry was pretty sure that "sitting by the lake" was a euphemism, but he did not care to inquire into the details of it. The mood at the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables was equally taciturn, but more nervous. Harry kept stealing glances at the end of the Slytherin table, where Pansy ate in solitude, but his friends did not seem to notice. After an eternity of waiting, the Gryffindors moved en masse to the Quidditch pitch and took their seats.

            Harry sat on the left of Ron, two seats removed from Hermione. Ginny and Neville sat a row behind. Harry passed the time scanning the area with his Omnoculars. Across the pitch, another pair of omnoculars was operating from the Slytherin stands.

            "Hey there, kiddoes."
            Harry looked over in surprise to see the guests arriving in the Gryffindor stands. Fred and George Weasley, wearing fancy purple robes and big grins, were stepping in front of Ron and Hermione.

            "What're you two doing here?" Ron asked, looking vaguely displeased.

            "Hey guys," Ginny exclaimed.

            "Hello, sister," Fred said politely, taking a seat at Harry's right. "Glad to know that one of our siblings is happy to see us."

            "If you must know, brother," George said, wedging himself forcibly between Harry and Ron, forcing his brother to scoot over. "We came to see the show."

            An elbow in Harry's side told him that they were not here for Quidditch.

            At length, the game got underway. Ravenclaw, under the leadership of Roger Davies and Cho Chang, were at a clear advantage. They scored four goals in just under three minutes, and laughter was beginning to descend from the other houses.

            "Hufflepuff is hopeless," Ron proclaimed loudly. "Their Chasers are just awful."

            "I wouldn't say that," Hermione remarked, squeezing Ron's shoulder affectionately. "I thought they played pretty well against us. Of course, you shut them down!"

            "Aww, thanks, sweetie," Ron muttered.

            "Do you two have to do that?" Fred growled, and George jabbed Ron menacingly with his wand.

            "Harry, let me have a go at those omnoculars," Fred said suddenly. He was staring at the faculty seats.

            Harry handed them over obligingly.

            "Well, I'll be jiggered," Fred remarked.

            "What is it?" George demanded, seizing Ron's pair and holding them up to his eyes, choking his younger brother slightly in the process.

            "In the staff stands," Fred told him. "In the blue, next to Snivellus."

            "Is that-" George asked, aghast.

            "Yep. Anton."

            "You mean Professor Nemo?" Harry asked in alarm.

            "Was that Ant's last name?" George asked.

            "Yeah, I think so," Fred answered. "Sounds right, somehow."

            "You know Nemo?" Harry asked.

            "Not personally."

            "Only by reputation."

            "Oh, but what a reputation."

            "Knock it out!" Harry exclaimed, covering his ears with his hands. "One of you talk, and one of you shut up. I'm getting Weasley in surround sound!"

            The Weasleys on either side of him laughed. "George?"

            "You go ahead, Fred. I'll sit this one out."

            "Are you sure, brother?"

            "Absolutely."

            "GUYS!" Harry exclaimed.

            "Sorry, Harry," Fred chortled. "We never knew Anton personally. He graduated when we were still very new at Hogwarts, but he was a source of tremendous inspiration for us. If not for Ant, I don't know where we would have ended up. I just don't know. You see, it was his shining example, well, the example set by him and his partner Buckley, that got us started. When we were younger, we wanted to be just like them."

            Harry groaned. "I'll have to have words with him about that."

            "Very funny, Harry. Still it's odd to see him here, as a teacher. Seems strange that he's the one enforcing the rules instead of breaking 'em."

            "To be honest," Harry said, lowering his voice. "He isn't doing such a hot job of enforcing the rules. He's caught on to my pranks before, but he let me go."

            Fred and George exchanged pleased expressions. "Well, as it should be."

            Harry was paying just enough attention to put a grin on his face. As it was, most of his focus was on the game. Whenever the fifth goal was scored, the real festivities would begin. His hand was on the wand inside his robes, twitching nervously.

            "And Davies scores again!" the commentator declared gleefully.

            Harry pulled his wand out, but kept it low, in between his feet, and began muttering the words to the spell. On either side of him, the Weasley twins sat up straighter, seeming to expand in size as they did so.

            "Mate, you know you can tie your shoes without using your wand, don't you?" Ron quipped.

            Harry ignored this, and completed the incantation.

            The Ravenclaw team was getting into position to score again when screams of terror cut through the air. The audience as one turned to look at the south end of the pitch. There, just behind the scoring hoops, was an enormous Common Welsh. Green and scaly, looking particularly angry, the aerial beast let out a horrible roar that shook the stands, and released a mouthful of fire into the air above it's head.

            "Merlin's beard!" Hermione exclaimed, terror evident in her voice.

            Fred giggled delightfully.

            The Ravenclaw Keeper raced away on his broom, and the audience took their cue from him. Students were racing to the exits as Professor Dumbledore raised his wand. He zapped the dragon with a quick spell, and it vanished at once. His voice, magically magnified, filled the auditorium:
            "Please retake your seats, students! The dragon you have just seen was a simple illusion, just another of the pranks that have been terrorizing our school lately."

            "I'm so proud of us," George remarked to Fred. "Did you hear what he said?"
            "Yep," Fred confirmed. "Terrorizing our school! It has such a nice ring to it."

            "Simple illusion, my foot!" Harry grumbled. "I'd like to see the Creevey Brothers pull that one off."

            "I repeat: please retake your seats!" Dumbledore's voice boomed. Slowly, hesitantly, the students did as he requested. "Thank you, the game may continue."

            However, it seemed that the Headmaster had spoken too soon. Davies put up his hand to receive the Quaffle, only to drop it immediately in dismay. It dropped twenty feet below him to a Hufflepuff chaser, but slipped free again.

            "What is that, Harry?" George asked.

            "Stinksap," Harry confided. "It should be putting out several gallons of it a minute."

            "Excellent."

            Indeed, the Quaffle was squirting stinksap in every direction, coating players and fans alike in the foul substance. Nor was it just the Quaffle; each of the balls in play suddenly became fountains of the odious fluid. Moreover, they were now moving with a life of their own, racing over the student sections and coating the fans in sticky, stinky goo.

            "Madame Hooch!" Dumbledore called in his amplified voice. "Please correct this small problem!"

            Harry smiled. If Pansy had done her enchantment correctly, it would be no small problem to correct. However, they would soon have more to worry about the stinksap. Harry looked to the edges of the field, where his guests would be arriving from shortly. Sure enough, Madame Hooch had no sooner set off in pursuit of the misbehaving Quidditch balls than a line of Goblins took the field.

            A procession of a dozen of the small black creatures marched in procession onto the field, and into the eyes of all present. Riotous laughter ensued, which was only to be expected. How often does one see a goblin in a bikini, after all?

            "Goblins," Fred remarked. "They'll do anything for gold."

            "I told you," George said, poking Harry in the side.

            "And you were right!" Harry laughed. It had cost him more galleons than he cared to admit, but it was well worth it. The best part is that he had carried the entire affair off without ever showing his face to any of the goblins – not one of the bikini-clad goblins could possibly implicate him.

            "Hermione?" Ron asked, giggling madly. "What did you do, honey?"       

            "I had nothing to do with this," Hermione gulped, eyes wide in amazement.

            To add to the hilarity, each of Harry's guests carried a picket sign:

            GOBLINS BACK S.P.E.W.!

            HOUSE-ELVES HAVE FEELINGS, TOO!

            JOIN THE ELF LIBERATION FRONT!

            And so on.

            The Quidditch match was quickly deteriorating into chaos, but Harry and Pansy were not yet done. There still remained the coup-de-grace, the finale, the brilliant conclusion to a stream of well-coordinated calamities. Harry heard the creaking of a heavy wooden door underneath his feet, and knew that the moment was upon them.

            Pansy's uncle worked in the Ministry of Magic's office that regulated magical creatures. It was through this connection that she able to obtain two thousand Cornish Pixies, and have them sent to Hogwarts. They had arrived two nights before, and been stored in giant crates underneath the Quidditch stands. Now, they tore out of their wooden cages in a towering fury, and quickly besieged the scene before them with their particular brand of aggression.

            The term "bedlam" hardly covers the rest of the Quidditch match. Students were carried off by angry pixies and deposited all across the school grounds. Pieces of the stands were torn from the earth and flung as projectiles, coating everything in mud and grass. A particularly boisterous crew of pixies pulled up a large clod of mud and deposited it the faculty stands, directly on top of a blue-clad Professor Nemo.

            Perhaps the most unexpected thing to happen that day, however, was not directed by Harry and Pansy. The Hufflepuff seeker, somehow maintaining his wits better than Cho Chang, emerged from a crowd of pixies covered in mud and stinksap, but clutching the Golden Snitch. In the wildest Quidditch match in recorded history, Hufflepuff prevailed 150-50.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

            Harry walked lightly through the dungeons, finding his way at last to the girls restroom beside the Slytherin House. He looked around guiltily, and then knocked twice sharply. The door parted just a crack, and a green-sleeved arm snaked out and seized Harry by his robes, dragging him inside.

            "Mmph!" Harry exclaimed as his mouth was covered instantly by hers. He noticed dimly that a small painting of a red barn had been hung over a particular brick in the adjacent wall.

            "Harry!"

            "Pansy!"

            "That was wonderful!" she exclaimed rapturously.

            "Yeah, it was pretty good, wasn't it? You did good, kid," he joked.

            "You were wonderful!"

            "Thanks," he said.

            She put her hands on his hips, and trailed small kisses and small bites down his neck. "We should celebrate!"

            Harry grinned. "I agree. Say, the Forbidden Forest at midnight?" he suggested.

            "Now."
            "Now?!"

            "Now."

            "Here?!"

            "Here."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX     

            "That was, um, really nice… Pansy," Harry stammered. He was redressing slowly in the ladies restroom, under the watchful eye of his partner in crime.

            "You're so cute when you're all… post-coital," she crooned.

            Harry blushed. "You know, I've noticed something about you," he remarked.

            "Oh yeah? What's that?"

            "Well, it's just that…" He was having trouble again. Taking a deep breath, he blurted it out. "I've noticed that you get pretty, well, fired up whenever we pull a prank."

            Pansy shrugged. "Yeah, you're right. I guess it's just the adrenaline," she laughed. While Harry had been dressing, she had merely watched. She stood before him now, her pale body stark naked, her dark eyes twinkling with mischief. "Are you sure you have to go so soon?"
            Harry frowned sympathetically. "I wish I could stay," he said quietly, glancing over the slender curves of her body. "Believe me, I'd love to stay a little longer. But I can't. It'll be hard enough to explain my absence for this span of time."

            Pansy nodded, but looked somewhat sad about it. Reluctantly, she grabbed her robes.

            Harry stepped over to her and took both of her wrists in his hands into his left hand, caressing her soft skin. He brushed her cheek with his other hand, and kissed her tenderly. "I want to see you tonight," he told her.

            "Well, okay," she smiled brightly, pinching his rump sharply.

            "That's not what I meant," he said seriously.

            "You… don't want to have sex?" she asked, feigning offense.

            Harry blushed again. "Well, you know, if it happens, great, you know. But more than that, I just want to see you."

            "Okay. Meet me here at midnight."

            "Sounds good. I'll see you tonight," Harry said sweetly. "Oh, crap! I almost forgot."

            "What?"

            "There's a prank scheduled for dinner," he told her. "Spanish Fly serum in the turkey."

            "Spanish Fly?"

            "Yeah, a powerful aphrodisiac," Harry explained.

            "Oh wow," she breathed.

            "Everyone will be making out with just about whoever they can lay their hands on, or more."
            "Good to know."

            "I mean, the only reason I'm saying so is… you know, if I see you chewing on some Slytherin's lip, I'll have to kick his teeth in."

            Pansy smiled, kissed his cheek. "How about if I chew on yours instead?"

            "Yeah, but then-"

            "Like you said, everybody will be grabbing whoever is closest to them, right? Maybe I'll just happen to be walking by your table, and then we put on a little show for your friends. Worse case scenario, you can just blame the charm."

            He kissed her again. "You are brilliant, Pansy!"

            She shrugged, blushing slightly. "It comes in handy from time to time."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

            Dinnertime at Hogwarts was a lively affair. While the details of the game were obscured, speculation ran rampant among the students as to who had orchestrated the pandemonium. Harry was reassured by the talk around him that he had again escaped with his skin. He heard Lavender Brown telling anyone who would listen that it was the work of Ministry goons, out to capitalize on the mirthful spirit at Hogwarts in those days. Many spoke in hushed tones of Deatheaters. Luna Lovegood was talking about Loki, the Norse god of Mischief. The most popular theory was that Fred and George Weasley had pulled the stunt off, their tribute to pranksters every where.

            For their part, the staff sat in accusatory silence, watching the mass of students engage in speculative conversation. Professor Nemo's eyes burned holes in the back of Harry's head, but he ignored it.

            Of course, while everyone talked, they also ate. The turkey, basted in a generous amount of Spanish Fly Serum, worked its way into the bodies of the Hogwarts populace. It started with Ron and Hermione, of course, who kissed each other softly at first. The other couples in the room soon followed suit, but before long the students began pairing off with any member of the opposite sex within reach.

            Harry could not help but laugh at the scene unfolding all around him. When he saw Professors Sprout and Flitwick locking lips, he put his head back and sent his laughter up to the enchanted ceiling above. He felt a pair of hands land tenderly on his shoulders, and quickly found the source.

            Ginny Weasley, her hair tousled and a hungry look in her eyes, was caressing his torso urgently. Harry took both of her wrists and pulled her off of him, stepping away cautiously. Even so, a powerful urge was rising inside of him to grab her forcefully and cover her mouth with his. He fought the temptation, though, foisting the youngest Weasley off on Neville Longbottom.

            He turned around to find that Pansy was standing directly beside him. He pulled her against his body roughly, and abandoned all control.

            XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

            "Well," Neville remarked in quiet words. "That was the most interesting dinner I've had in some time."

            "Hear Hear," Harry agreed, raising his bottle of butterbeer up in salute.

            The Gryffindor common room was full to overflowing with male voices. The evening's meal, which would forever be remembered as "Turkey Surprise" (Or "Spanish Fly Surprise" for those in the know), had produced a strong backlash. In short, the two sexes of the House had suddenly found it impossible to be in one another's company. Several of the boys had initially been congregated around the fire; one-by-one ashen-faced girls slipped upstairs to their dormitories in surrender. The effect seemed more pronounced in the fairer sex, it was true, but the male Gryffindors were all rather embarrassed in their own right.

            Following the flight of the females, the Gryffindor bachelors unearthed several cases of butterbeer and a bottle of Firewhiskey that needed a home, and sat by the fire, trying to piece together the night's events. A small degree of inebriation took the edge off of their mortification, and they were able to sit together, and stare blankly into the fire as a cohesive unit.

            "Well, I thought it was a good prank," Dean spoke up, nodding toward Ron encouragingly.

            Harry's oldest friend slunk a little slower in his seat. The general consensus had not yet been issued, but there were many who seemed displeased by it. Ron was taking the reaction poorly.

            "No, there can be no argument on the topic," Neville evinced. "It was a good prank, even a great one."

            Harry smirked. "Neville, have you ever been kissed before?"

            The round-faced youth blushed furiously. "As it happens, I, er…"

            Harry laughed. "I can see why you were so fond of the prank."

            This comment elicited sincere laughter from the Gryffindor patriarchy. With the first burst of laughter, their combined sufferings eased a bit.

            "Ah, Neville, you sly dog!" Colin laughed, socking the older student affectionately on the arm.

            "And from Ginny, no less!" Dennis chipped in.

            Ron glared at the Creevey brothers but held his silence.

            "I can tell you, friends," Dean said quietly. "That the affections of Ginny Weasley are a pleasure that only a select few have had."

            Harry was barely quick enough to avert bloodshed. He threw his arms around Ron's midsection and put his body weight on the ravaging youth, bringing them both to the ground with a thud. "Ease up there, old friend," Harry said, gritting his teeth with the effort of restraining the enraged redhead. "If anybody is to blame for Ginny's actions tonight it's you."

            That took the edge off of Ron's fury. Harry could feel as much in his body language.

            "At any rate," Harry went on. "I think what Dean was trying to say was that Ginny does not give her love away easily." He cast Dean a murderous glance from behind Ron's back.

            "Yeah, Ron, that's all I was saying!" Dean said quickly, catching on at once. "Honestly!"

            Disgruntled, Ron settled back into his chair.

            "Ah, ye bunch a wankers!" Seamus exclaimed. "Fighting over the poor lass!"

            "Say, did anybody see who Seamus locked lips with?" Dean asked.

            "Nah," Dennis said loudly. "But he was eying up Vincent Crabbe pretty seriously. Too bad Millicent Bulstrode got there first!"
            Uproarious, whooping laughter erupted at this moment. Dennis traded high fives with his older brother, but was then buried under a pile of Seamus, who held him down and gave him a few vigorous frogs in the back before letting up.

            "Wanker," Seamus breathed, but he was laughing, too. "Where were you when all of this went down, Dennis?"

            Dennis, finding his way back into his seat, propped his legs up on the coffee table and settled both hands behind his head. "Me? As soon as I realized what was going on, I made my way over to the Ravenclaw table. There was a Seeker over there who felt a little let down about the game today, so I cheered her up as best I could."

            More laughter, coming easier now. Before long, even Ron was enjoying himself.

            "I got attached rather seriously to Lavender Brown," Dean told them.

            "Parvati Patil," Seamus confessed. "Or was it Padma? Maybe both of them!"

            "Hermione," Ron said, blushing slightly and raising his hand in acknowledgment.

            "Must've been quite a change for you," Harry told him, patting him on the back. "Dinner this time, instead of the couches in the common room!"

            Everyone laughed, and Harry clinked bottles with Seamus.

            "That's pretty bold talk," Ron laughed, smiling wickedly. "For a guy who was making out with a Slytherin."

            Harry felt his mirth wane as laughter descended on his ears. He decided to run with it. "Well," he said philosophically, "I have to tell you, Pansy Parkinson is a pretty good kisser."

            Seamus harrumphed. "I've heard that's not all she does well."

            There were echoes of general agreement to this statement. Harry decided to make it an issue. "What, exactly, are you saying, Seamus?"

            "Uh… I was saying that… Pansy's got a reputation, that's all," he said.

            "For what?" Harry pressed.

            "You know… being generous with her affections," Dennis offered.

            "More euphemisms," Harry declared. "Spell it out for me."

            Seamus gave Harry a bewildered look. Sighing, he went on. "Word is, she's a slut," he said slowly. "I'm saying she likes to have sex with a lot of people."

            Harry felt his anger rising. "Are you telling me you have had sex with her?" he asked.

            "Me? No, I-" Seamus stammered uncomfortably.

            "Anybody else?" Harry asked loudly. "Dean, have you had sex with Pansy Parkinson?"

            "No, I haven't," Dean answered softly.

            "Dennis? Colin? Have you guys ever had sex with Pansy?"

            Colin for both of them. "Nope."

            "Ron? Neville?" Harry threw his hands up in the air. "I mean, if any one here has, then let me know. If not, though, I gotta wonder where you get off calling the girl a slut."

            There was a period of silence. Harry eyed his housemates one at a time, staring down their every objection. He knew what they were all thinking. They were all wondering why he was standing up for a Slytherin. That was not normal Gryffindor behavior. They all wanted to call him on it, but were prevented for a single reason – because he was right. After a few difficult moments, it was clear that the discussion was over.

            Harry fumed, taking a long draw off of his butterbeer. He had lost his temper and he knew it. It was not idle chat that provoked his anger, either. He erupted at his friends for the simple reason that they had the nerve to voice the very concern that gnawed at him.

            "Does anybody know," Ron said darkly. "Who Malfoy ended up with? I mean, sorry for pointing it out mate, but he wasn't matched up with Pansy."

            Harry smiled in spite of himself.

            "I saw it," Neville said timidly. "Her name is Julia Rookwood – a first year in Slytherin."

            The previous moment's tensions melted away under a torrent of laughter at Draco Malfoy's expense. This Harry could allow.

            "ENOUGH!"

            Silence broke out like wildfire in the common room at the sound a woman's voice. The crackling of the common room fire was the only sound to be heard as Hermione appeared in the light. She wore blue plaid pajamas and a serious look. Ginny Weasley was doing her best to hide behind Hermione, it seemed, and staring at the ground in apparent enthrallment.

            "Gentleman," Hermione continued in a grave tone. "It is nearly midnight, and your raucous behavior will not be tolerated any longer. Up to bed, now!" Hermione raised her right arm, pointing to their dormitories.

            As one, the Gryffindor patriarchy dispersed. Within two minutes of the girls' arrival, Harry was the only male left in sight. He sighed, and swallowed the rest of his butterbeer.

            "Harry," Hermione said severely.

            "Hermione," Harry answered in a level tone. "Ron's your man. And those other boys are twits. But I will not be told when to go to bed."
            "Harry!" Hermione whispered fiercely. Her finger wavered in the air threateningly.

            Harry got to his feet, meeting her eyes defiantly. "Choose your battles, Hermione," he said quietly.

            Hermione faltered. "I don't want to hear anything more from down here," she said in a no-nonsense tone.

            Harry shrugged. "Well, since the party just died out somehow, I don't really have anybody left to make a stir with in here, now do I?" he laughed.

            Hermione's strict visage cracked. "I guess not," she said, an unwelcome smile on her features.

            "Incredible, really," Harry murmured appreciatively. "You've got some kind of authority there. Reminds me of McGonagall on a bad day."

            Hermione giggled a little. "Harry," she said again, softly this time. "Get some sleep, okay? It's been a long week."

            Harry nodded, retaking his seat in the couch. "Good night, Hermione."

            "Good night, Harry," she answered, already on her way back to bed.

            Harry stared into the dying fire for a moment in silence.

            "Harry, can I talk to you?"

            He looked up, surprised to see that he was not alone. Ginny had remained behind when Hermione went upstairs. She stood away from the firelight, concealing herself in shadows. He had precious little time, he knew, before his rendezvous with Pansy. On the other hand, he'd told Ginny that he would be there for her if she needed him. "Sure," he said softly. "Sit down." He gestured to the seat next to him.

            "Harry, I wanted to talk to you… about tonight," she said tenderly, once she had taken the proffered seat.

            "At dinner, you mean?" He asked, gauging her response carefully. How strange she seemed that night – oddly stripped of her usual confidence and vigor. She was almost visibly smaller as a result. It seemed as though he were confronted by the young Ginny again, all of nine years old and too enamored with him to even speak.

            Ginny did not answer at once, scowling instead at the firelight. "I wanted you to… I wanted to apologize," she said, still not looking at him. "For trying to kiss you tonight."

            Harry smiled, but quickly hid it. "Come on, Ginny, don't beat yourself up over that. We all know that Spanish Fly Serum was doing it's job. It was all I could to do to push you away."
            "But you did push me away." She was looking at him, turning hurt green eyes in his direction.

            Harry sighed, his shoulders sagged. "Yeah. Because I knew it was wrong. You're Ron's little sister, Gin, which makes you my surrogate little sister. I couldn't kiss you, you see?"

            Ginny looked away again, in the opposite direction, away from Harry and firelight alike. "I-I wanted you to know… that… I don't feel the way I used to about… when I was a little girl. Not anymore."

            "I know that, Gin," Harry answered softly. "I do."

            Ginny was silent for a long time. "Okay," she said at last, so faintly that he could hardly hear her.

            "Okay," he echoed, standing up. "Look Gin, it's getting late. Why don't you turn in?"

            "You got somewhere to be, Harry?" she asked him, a single tear slipping from her left eye.

            Harry gaped at her, but found himself unable to lie. "Yeah."

            Ginny stiffened visibly. "Are you going to see her?"

            Harry did not answer immediately, so she went on.

            "I've watched you Harry. The way you look at her at mealtimes. I've heard the way you say her name. I saw… I saw the look in your eyes when you kissed her tonight," Ginny said, her voice tremulous with emotion. "Was it the enchantment? Could I try to blame the Spanish Fly? Maybe. But I know better."

            Harry gave her a long, tender look. He stooped over, and kissed the top of her head. "Go to bed, Ginny."

            "Don't go, Harry," Ginny pleaded. "You don't know her like I do. You don't know what she'll do to you."          

            "Ginny…"

            "Harry, you came to get me once, from the Slytherin house. Why? Because you thought I was in over my head, that I was going to get hurt. And you were right. You came, as my friend, to rescue me. And now, as your friend, I'm asking you not to go. Because I think you're in over your head, and you're going to get hurt."

            "Ginny."

            "And don't ask me to keep this quiet!" Ginny hissed. "Because you have no right to do that!"

            "I wasn't going to ask you to keep it quiet," Harry said calmly. "I'll trust your judgment on that."

            "Oh."

            "You say that you've seen the way I look at her? That you've heard the way I say her name? That you watched me kiss her?" Harry asked. "Then you know how I feel about her. You know why I have to go." He turned around, and headed for the portrait hole.

            "Harry-"

            "Good night, Ginny."

            "She'll hurt you, Harry! This will all end in tears!"

            But Harry was no longer listening – he was gone.