Author's Notes: I updated! Yes, that's right, I'm not dead and I'm updating! Huzzah!

But aside from that I owe excuses, so…it's been a very busy Christmas, New Year's, exams and everything in between. Makes me tired just thinking about it. Please forgive.

Also, loads of thanks to everyone who reviewed! YashiriRanma4ever, SilverFyre31, Angel Black1, Eve Granger, Enter the Extinct Age, this mean You. Much loff.

Chapter 3

The Switch

Lucky for them, it was only Hermione.

"Ron! I'm going to kill you!"

Well, all of them except for Ron.

After throwing the door open with strength similar to that of a small elephant, Hermione Granger launched into a full-scale rant, with gravity and ear-piercing shrillness to spare. She pulled them all out of the closet, and then, with Harry and Ginny following behind, went charging down the hall (yet again resembling an elephant…perhaps on steroids) while simultaneously tongue-lashing Ron for engaging in the evils of hand to hand combat ON SCHOOL GROUNDS.

"Why, you could've been killed!" she berated. "If Malfoy had drawn his wand…"

"I'm sure we all wish Malfoy would refrain from drawing his *wand* in public," thought Harry, and then snickered uncontrollably until he tripped on his own robe and went careening into a first year Hufflepuff.

Boys.

Hermione's lengthy lecture, which continued nonetheless as she pulled Ron to the common room by one ear, and then extended well into the night, included such admonishments as, "Not only is it horribly dangerous, it's also against school rules!"

After she'd given Ron sufficient time to cower in SHAME, Hermione added bitingly, "And Harry, stop snickering."

And whenever Ron started to nod off (as he was apt to do), Hermione would rap him sharply on the wrist.

"Ow! Whaddid you do that for?"

"To show you that violence is not the answer," she responded curtly. "Now hush!"

Harry had meant to ask Hermione how she'd found them, or even how she knew about the fight in the first place. But, being mortally terrified of what she'd do to him for interrupting, he cowardly chose to go to bed and worry about it in the morning.

~~

The following day, late morning actually, a portion of the remaining student body of Hogwarts was eating breakfast in the dinning hall. Their talk was morning dulled murmuring mostly, some people still in pajamas rubbing sleep out of their eyes and working industriously to reach sustaining levels of caffeine.

But then the pounding started.

A low rumble at first, the noise that seemed to be coming from somewhere above their heads grew steadily louder, like a roll of thunder that refused to break. The noise descended, growing in magnitude and pitch until it was directly outside the Hall's doors.

A hush fell over the crowd.

"We're all gonna die!" screamed Ernie Macmillan, jumping on top of his seat to warn the crowd of their impending doom. He proceeded to dive under the table with half the Hufflepuffs following suit.

But aside from that mild disturbance, the crowd remained hushed.

And then, the great oaken doors flew open to reveal a sight more horrifying and lethally dangerous than a fully-grown, fire-spewing Hungarian Horntail.

That's right, it was a furious Mob of teenaged girls.

There were even Slytherins in the throng, which was odd, as they usually deigned not come to breakfast during the holidays. Why bother dragging yourself all the way upstairs when the house-elves are all too happy to bring a continental breakfast in bed, with freshly baked croissants au chocolat, and fluff the pillows while they're at it?

The Mob, buzzing like a swarm of angry pixies, marched straight toward the Gryffindor table where an assortment of no-longer-so-very-sleepy people sat. These included a sullen Ron and pursed-lipped Hermione.

He caught her eye, and she shot him a thoroughly disapproving look.

Oh the SHAME!

And so Ron returned to gapping at the approaching army, too awed by the vision of incensed flannel, silk, and fluffy bunny slippers to continue with their little spat.

The collection came to a thundering halt directly in front a dazed looking boy who was preparing to take a seat. From the head of The Mob emerged none other than one Sally-Ann Perks.

Heading straight for a doe-eyed Neville Longbottom, Sally marched forward, eyes narrowed to blazing slits of fire, and poked him sharply in the chest.

"I can't believe you! You actually dared to show your face?" she exclaimed, with all the passion, and then some, of a very jilted lover.

"Shouldn't I?" squeaked Neville in confusion. "Is there something on it?"

He lifted a hand to tap searchingly at the bridge of his nose.

Sally-Anne's eyebrows shot about halfway past her hairline, while her entourage continued to stare scathingly at Neville. Forget daggers, they were shooting full-fledged machetes.

"What? You mean you don't even remember?" she shrieked, arms flailing and eyes glinting like the edge of a guillotine blade.

"Er…no," ventured Neville, his voice quavering.

This response provoked The Mob into murmurs of "He doesn't remember? He doesn't remember?!", plus "And I thought Michael Corner was bad!", mixed in with the occasional "Vile fiend!"

Neville took one step back and The Mob moved with him.

"Well, maybe this will help!"

And with that Sally-Ann slapped Neville smartly across the face.

"Bastard!"

The hall gave a collective gasp.

"Can't say I didn't warn you Neville," muttered Ernie Macmillan, peering out from beneath a tablecloth. "Death and destruction. Didn't I warn him?"

And with such an apocalyptic commotion going on, everyone, and especially Ron Weasley, was just to distracted to notice a hand slip over his steaming mug of cocoa, drop in a pinch of white powder, and then swiftly disappear beneath the folds of a jet black robe.

"And don't even think about apologizing."

And with that Sally-Anne spun about, hair whipping dangerously close to Neville's stinging face, and stomped out of the hall. The sea of onlookers parted to let her pass many of them shooting disapproving looks at a stunned and slightly pudgy Gryffindor.

That womanizing Longbottom boy.

Attempting not to upset an already scandalized Neville, Ginny Weasley hid her smirk behind a mug of hot chocolate.

"I didn't do anything!" said Neville earnestly, his face an alarmingly deep shade of crimson. "In fact, I've never done anything!"

And so Neville scurried out after the tormented Ms. Perks, leaving half the hall laughing hysterically behind him.

~~

When she was positive it wouldn't come shooting out of her nose during a particularly enthusiastic spasm of laughter, Ginny took a sip of hot cocoa.

"Bleuh!" she sputtered, recoiling abruptly.

"What's wrong?" asked Harry, pausing between mouthfuls of scrambled eggs.

"Burned my tongue," replied Ginny, setting the steaming mug down and going for a glass of ice water.

"Here." Ron slid his own hot chocolate, looking deceptively innocent, over to his sister. "You can have mine."

"Ron…"

"It's not poisoned or anything," he said, inching the mug toward her.

Poisoned, no. Drugged, maybe.

"This is just becoming rather creepy," said Ginny.

Ron looked confused as if he didn't have the slightest idea what she was on about, mostly because he didn't.

Ginny crossed her arms and gave him a pointed look. "It's not like you need to make up for Fred and George. Perhaps you didn't notice, but they have never exactly insisted on pampering my every whim."

"Wha-? No, I'm just not thirsty."

"How chivalrous, dearest devoted older brother." But before Ron could say anything in protest, Ginny took a complacent sip.

"Mmm, gotta love chocolate in the mornings."

"What do you mean, 'pampering your every whim'?" asked Ron, although he had a vague idea of what she was on about.

"I'm just saying, it seems like ever since Fred and George left home, you've taken to hovering over me like its your number one favorite pastime," explained Ginny calmly. "Not that I mind, of course. It's a lot like having a second overbearing mother. As if one wasn't good enough."

"You're rather sarcastic today," remarked Hermione without glancing up from her Daily Prophet.

"I just haven't had enough caffeine," Ginny apologized. "I'll be fine in a moment."

But in a little less than a moment, more like a jiffy if you will, Ginny was feeling anything but fine.

After drinking about half of her brother's mug of cocoa, she started to feel feverish and dizzy.

"Does anyone else find it unbearably hot in here?" she asked.

"Not really," responded Dean Thomas with a smile, "but maybe it's just the after effects of Neville."

Hermione paused in reading an article about the latest outbreak of Fortenbras Flu, took one look at Ginny, and got worried.

"Are you feeling alright?"

Ginny had gone paler than usual and her eyes were developing a glazed over look.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Ginny replied, checking her forehead for signs of fever and realizing she'd lost all feeling in her hand.

She noticed Harry watching her intently as well. His slightly worried gaze made her stomach flip and sent shivers through her toes. Or maybe that was the fever too.

"On second thought, I think I'll head back to the dorms."

"I'll walk you," said Ron hurriedly, pushing back his chair.

But that was the last thing Ginny wanted.

"Ron. I'll be fine."

And with that she made her way dizzily, though trying hard to look the picture of perfect health, out of the Great Hall. As she walked, her vision began to blur, so that by the time she passed through the doors to the Entrance Hall, Ginny couldn't see where she was going at all. Her world was all hazy nausea, the feverish heat replaced by a numbing cold.

With her body gone weak and her mind not far behind, Ginny continued through the Hall. Although she really had meant to go up to the Gryffindor Common room, her footsteps insisted on leading her past the stairway and down a dark and stony side corridor. She moved along like a puppet, her limbs having completely escaped her control. Something, which seemed to be situated very near the pit of her stomach, was forcing her to follow a predestined path, and she was feeling far too light-headed to protest.

With blurry blue spots dancing in front of her eyes, Ginny made one final turn, abruptly to her right, pushed back a tapestry she could barely see or feel, and walked into a hidden passageway where someone was waiting impatiently.

The last words she heard were "Ah Weasley!" Then, as the voice turned to outraged confusion, "What the-? Oh Theodore, why does your incompetence plague me so? The rest of the world is so painfully inept."

At which point Ginny's knees gave way beneath her, and she blacked out completely.