Harry walked down the hall with Ron, Neville, and Seamus, all of them griping about potions class. Neville had gotten a pair of glasses this year, and with them recieved a lifetime of harrasment from all the Slytherins, all of them except for the ones in Malfoy's gang, which was still shocking.

Just as they were about to enter the great hall, Leonard Baynes' large form approached them, and he stole Neville's glasses. Blake hornsby was with him, laughing as Leonard harrased Neville. Harry glanced at a group of girls, and spotted Hermione who was watching Blake with a frown.

"You can see to Jamaica with these things!" laughed Leonard. He tossed them to Blake, who tossed them back, Neville leaping up and down for them.

"C'mon you guys. Give them back!" he shouted angrilly. Blake laughed as he tossed them back to Leonard, but then glanced over at Hermione, noticing her frown. His smile faded and he turned to Leonard.

"Hey, Lenny, give him back his glasses," he said. Leonard grunted and tossed them on the floor at Neville's feet. Seamus reached into his pocket and pulled out some money.

"Here," he said handing it to Leonard. "Just take it and go." Leonard smiled and walked off with Blake. Seamus sighed and turned to Harry and Ron. "I don't have the money to keep paying these guys." Neville glanced over at Malfoy.

"Malfoy seems to have something going," he muttered. "Yesterday he let two Hufflepuffs and a Ravenclaw join him. Maybe we should talk to him. We've got nothing left to loose."

Seamus nodded and they both walked off. Ron and Harry stayed though. "They've gone mad!" exclaimed Ron. "And since when was Malfoy the one we turned to for protection?" Harry shook his head.

"All I know is I'd just as soon join the death eaters than join with them," he said, rolling his eyes. "C'mon, lets get a seat. Hermione said that someone was going to tell the story of this Abel Frye. Maybe we can find out what's going on around here."

Hermione didn't really hear what the girls were saying. She was too busy staring at...

"Blake Hornsby," laughed Parvati. Hermione jumped out of thought and turned around. "Don't even bother. The line's already formed to get Blake, and there's not cuts." Hermione smirked and nodded.

"Don't you want to hear the rest of the story?" asked another girl. Parvati groaned.

"C'mon. I am so sick of that story," she muttered.

"The thing is, this ain't just a story," said the girl. Hermione took a sip of water and nodded.

"Go on," she said, noticing that Harry and Ron had both tunned in now.

"Abel Frye was an annoying little jerk," said Parvati. "He was seeing this girl who was hooked up with the biggest hunk in their house who was also Abel's worst enemy."

"That's a diss written to heaven," said the other girl.

"So," continued Parvati. "One day she just sprinted on him, big time. In front of the whole school. Had him crying like a baby. So the next night he lured her into the forbidden wing and stabbed-"

"I heard gutted," said the other girl.

"Forbidden wing?" asked Hermione.

"Any place where someone dies is forbidden as far as I'm concerned."

Parvati reached into her bag and pulled out a copy of a drawing and handed it to Hermione. The drawing was of a boy who was about to hang himself.

"Look at this," said Parvati, as if they hadn't already. "After he killed her, he hung himself. Now his ghost wanders the halls, taking revenge on everyone, except for those who call on him."

"Like Malfoy and his out-to-lunch bunch?" asked Hermione. She placed the drawing on the table. "Where'd you get this?" she asked.

"It one of Pansy Parkinson's drawings. There are copies all over the school." Hermione glanced over at Pansy who was currently bent of a sketchbook.

"I didn't know she could draw," she muttered.

"There have been four people sent to the hospital already," said Tonks to Snape as they walked down the hall. "Why hasn't the school been closed?"

"Half of the parents want us to close," said Snape. "The other half want to see their kids graduate on time. The ministry of magic claims they want to see more proof before shutting down the school."

"So they're just going to wait until somebody dies?" she asked. "Or is that not evidence enough?"

Snape shrugged cooly, and pulled out an old photograph, the name 'Abel Frye' was written on the bottom. "The majority of the school has seen this by now. Abel has become quite the legend. Almost more famous than Potter, if that's even possible."

Pansy felt the paper she was drawing on get pulled away, and she waited, watching Leonard's large shadow on the table. She knew he would recognize the fat bastard in a football uniform, haning in a noose. There came a growl behind her and she smirked.

"Anyone you know?" she asked. Leonard made a fist and was ready to strike her, when Blake came up from behind and grabbed hold of his arm.

"Man, it ain't even worth it," he said. Leonard eased up, but turned to Malfoy instead and pulled him out of his chair.

"Do you know how easy it would be for me to break you?" he roared. Malfoy stared at him, completely unmiffed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Potter rise up from his seat and approach Leonard from behind.

"Escuse me!" he called.

"Watch this," said Hermione with a smile to the group of girls who were watching in shock.

"Excuse me!" called Harry again.

"Back off!" shouted Leonard, but Harry did not let off.

"Hey!" he called Leonard turned and raised a fist.

"I said back-" but before he could finish and land his blow, Harry caught hold of his arm, twisted it behind his back and pinned him to the table, his arm in a painful posistion. There were gasps around the room, and Pansy had jumped up and moved out of the way. Leonard's arm was throbbing and he was afraid that if he fought back now, his arm would break. "Blake, have you got my back?" he called. Blake glanced at Harry.

"Fighting nerds? I don't roll like that bro," he said as he walked off. Harry let go, and Leonard walked out of the dinning hall, trying to ignore the pointed fingers and the 'oooh!' from the students. Harry put Malfoy's chair back in place and went back to his own table, not expecting a 'thankyou' from any of them.