The next morning, as FitzSkimmons ate breakfast, Simmons pulled out their new schedule to see what they had on their first day.

Looking over her wife's shoulder at their schedule, Daisy said quietly, "Divination, Muggle Studies, Arithmancy — so which are we doing first?"

"Divination sounds even woollier here than the two people who had some version of telling the future at home. Muggle studies would theoretically be the easiest, but remember how little wizards actually know about muggles and how little common sense they have. And arithmancy is the closest to anything we would have, basically being math," said Simmons.

"So Muggle, Arithmancy, Divination?" suggested Fitz. "Easy, fun, useless?"

"Fun? — Speak for yourself," muttered Daisy, but Simmons replied, "Sounds good to me. And we can always change the order in the future once we know more."

As Simmons predicted, Muggle Studies was about as wrong about muggles as one could possibly be, and Simmons had to literally sit on her hand the entire class to keep herself from raising it every other sentence to point out something new that Professor Burbage was wrong or ill-informed about. It also didn't help that this muggle world was thirty years behind the world FitzSkimmons came from, even ignoring the fact that they were at the cutting edge of everything being Shield agents, often even creating the cutting edge themselves, geniuses as they were. And as Daisy had predicted, Arithmancy looked like it was going to be fascinating for the scientific-minded FitzSimmons, and very tedious and mathy for her.

But finally, as nine o'clock rolled around for the third time that morning, FitzSkimmons climbed up through the castle to the top of the North Tower for Divination.

"So you said you didn't think they were any better here than Robin is at home?" said Daisy as they ascended another set of seemingly never-ending stairs.

"Based on Hermione's reading of the book we were assigned, no — I don't," answered Simmons. "In fact, they might actually be even worse than Robin, which is seriously saying something. Because she does at least tell the future, even if it's usually too vague and in stick figures to seem helpful at the time. While here, it doesn't seem like it's usually very reliable, or anything more specific than fortune cookie future-telling crap. And it certainly isn't as good as Robin's dad, who gave you what was it, two exact visions, just without full context?"

"Oh, yay — worse than cryptic Robin," sighed Fitz. "Just how I wanted my school year to go."

They eventually arrived at the top of the North Tower, and ascended the silver staircase up through the trapdoor in the ceiling, into a hot and stuffy, dimly lit room. Once everyone was up in the room and seated around the plethora of circular tables, Professor Trelawney started class, leading off with having them all try to read tea leaves.

"Now, I want you all to divide into pairs," she told them. "Collect a teacup from the shelf, come to me, and I will fill it. Then sit down and drink, drink until only the dregs remain."

"Now this we can do," smirked Fitz in a whisper to Simmons, causing Daisy to roll her eyes at them. Why couldn't it have been coffee or hot chocolate? Preferably with alcohol in it.

Once FitzSkimmons had their cups of tea and were back at their table, they began sipping the scalding tea, Fitz and Simmons noticeably quicker than Daisy.

"You know, I'm not sure this will be accurate if you pour half your cup into ours," said Simmons in an undertone a few minutes later as Daisy subtly poured some of her mostly undrunk tea into Fitz and Simmons' cups.

"Right — because we believe a cup of tea can predict the future to begin with," retorted Daisy with a roll of her eyes.

But eventually they finished their teas, swilled the dregs around before draining their cups, and shuffled the cups between each other so Daisy ended up with Fitz's cup, Simmons with Daisy's, and Fitz with Simmons'. Simmons opened her copy of Unfogging the Future to the necessary pages, and set it down on the table between them for all of them to look at.

"Jemma, why don't you go first, since you're the most interested in seeing if this class is anything other than the soggy load of tea gunk it seems like it's going to be," said Daisy.

"Fine, but you're going second for calling it 'tea gunk'," replied Simmons, before looking down into Daisy's cup. "Let's see…this looks sort of like a cross, though crooked. And a cross means you're going to have 'trials and sufferings', so crooked trails and sufferings? Unusual trials and sufferings?"

"Kind of sounds like our routine nine months at Hogwarts — which now that I say that, makes me think Hogwarts is a bit like being pregnant. Nine months of trials and sufferings with a few nice bits thrown in," said Daisy. "Other than the plethora of sex, not having to worry about saving the world, and you two getting to go to school again — so not really trials and sufferings after all. Okay, throw that idea out the window."

"Well, let's see what else is in here," said Simmons. "There's a round bit, that maybe has some lines coming off of it, that the closest thing I'm seeing in this book is a child's depiction of a sun, which means 'great happiness'."

"We'll have great happiness when we get back to our dorm tonight," smirked Fitz.

"Nothing else looks like it can even pretend to be anything in this book," continued Simmons, ignoring Fitz and Daisy's snickering. "Why don't you go, Daisy, and maybe Fitz's cup has something more interesting in it."

"The only thing interesting it could have in it would be alcohol, and we already know it doesn't," grumbled Daisy, but picked up Fitz's cup and looked into it anyway. "Well, there's a blob, another blob, several smaller blobs, and some tea residue."

At Simmons' pointed look, Daisy began looking over all of the symbols in the book to try to find one that almost but not quite looked like something in the bottom of Fitz's cup. "There might be an acorn if you had stepped on it after it rotted — so apparently you're going to get a 'windfall of unexpected gold', despite the fact you're already a super-rich thirteen year old with no family, close or extended. Then maybe there's something that looks like a drawing of an animal that Robin would make —"

At that moment Professor Trelawney swept over and snatched Fitz's cup out of Daisy's hand. "Let me see that, my dear."

Looking into the cup, she said in a very mystical voice, "The falcon...my dear, you have a deadly enemy."

"Never met an enemy who wasn't," muttered Fitz under his breath. "And pretty much all of my friends are deadly too, even if it's only turned against me every other year."

"Raina was only deadly to an unsuspecting flower dress," smirked Simmons, before quickly sobering up at Professor Trelawney's less than pleased look at her.

"The club...an attack. Dear, dear, this is not a happy cup…" Professor Trelawney continued on. "The skull...danger in your path, my dear…."

"Not wrong on either of those," said Daisy in an undertone.

But then Professor Trelawney gave the cup a final turn, gasped, and screamed. In a show of horror that would have made the best b-movie actress proud, she sank into the nearest vacant armchair, her hand clasping her heart, eyes closed as if it were all just too much.

"My dear boy...my poor, dear boy — no, it is kinder not to say…. No...don't ask me..."

"What is it, Professor?" asked Dean Thomas immediately, as Fitz muttered under his breath at the exact same time, "Wasn't planning to."

Most of the class had leapt up and were crowding around the chair Professor Trelawney was still collapsed in, trying to get a glimpse of whatever it was she had seen. Of course, despite her previous claim that it was better not to tell him, and insistence that Fitz not ask her, only a few seconds later she opened her huge eyes dramatically and said with the utmost flair, "My dear — you have the Grim!"

"Bully for me," replied Fitz boredly. "And a grim is what, exactly? Other than having one seems to mean your situation is rather — you know — grim."

But only Daisy and Simmons smirked at his truly ingenious play on words. Almost everyone else in the classroom had clapped their hands to their mouths in abject horror at Professor Trelawney's proclamation that Harry had grim tea, with the few who hadn't merely looking at the bug-eyed woman in confusion over this whole 'grim' thing, instead of properly appreciating Fitz's quick wit.

"The Grim, my dear, the Grim!" cried Professor Trelawney, who looked almost as horrified that Fitz hadn't heard of the Grim before as she had at the fact that he had the Grim to begin with. "The giant, spectral dog that haunts churchyards! My dear boy, it is an omen — the worst omen — of death!"

"Oh, sorry — I guess I've been too busy dealing with actual death to have ever learned about omens of death," Fitz answered boredly. "You know, dealing with Hydra, my insecurities, Ward, a monolith, more insecurities, the actual Hydra who had the added benefit of looking like Ward, a robot with anger management issues, my dark self — so really even more insecurities — dying, even more intelligent robots who hate being called robots, Hermione and I's dark sides teaming up against us, even if we did learn a few new moves from them at the end, an alien that went around eating worlds, and back to the more intelligent robots. And that was just our first seven years — there's been even more since then."

Like every time any of them made explicit references to their real lives, everyone in the room just stared at him in absolute, total, and in all other ways complete confusion. But it did have the advantage that everyone stopped looking at him like he was at Death's doorstep, or sitting with him at a table eating pizza.

Simmons rolled her eyes at her husband, before looking back at the rest of the class. "Ignore him. So a grim — bad news, huh?"

The majority of the class that clearly already knew what a grim was redirected their stares to her, clearly horrified that she wasn't taking this nearly serious enough either. The dead silence in the room was only finally broken by Professor Trelawney saying in her mistiest voice, "I think we will leave the lesson here for today. Yes...please pack away your things…."

Once everyone had packed their books away and exited the classroom, and they were all descending through the castle to Transfiguration class, nobody seemed to want to look at Fitz anymore. Not that FitzSkimmons particularly cared, as most of the looks they'd got over their previous two years there hadn't been the most friendly, and so they were more than happy to be ignored rather than stared at. So as everyone refused to look in their direction other than a few furtive glances, Fitz pulled Daisy and Simmons back slightly.

"You know, Harry did see the glowing eyes of some kind of animal on Magnolia Crescent the night he ran away from his abusive relatives," he said quietly as they walked down one of the plethora of staircases they had to descend to get to the Transfiguration classroom numerous floors below.

"But had Harry ever seen a giant dog around there before? Little Whinging's a very urban area outside of London, hard to imagine a large animal like a dog having escaped from somewhere and no one else notice it," replied Simmons. "It was probably a stray cat or something, and Harry was already panicky from running from the law having no clue how to actually do so, in the dark of night. Plus, Little Whinging is nowhere near any churchyards to haunt."

"I think you're missing the 'spectral' part of the description of Harry's fluffy house pet," teased Daisy.

Simmons rolled her eyes. "Because we believe Harry could have actually seen a grim, or that they actually exist. And I know, ghosts really do exist here, and there could theoretically be supernatural animals as well, but nothing about this grim business seems very likely to actually exist."

"I know, I know, pet — no reason to get your knickers in a twist, I was just joking," replied Daisy. "I thought it was funny."

"I did too," said Fitz softly, rubbing his hand up and down his younger wife's back.

Several minutes later, they finally reached the Transfiguration classroom, and FitzSkimmons took their customary seats in the back of the class. Their lesson that day was on Animagi, but only FitzSkimmons were paying any attention to her. The rest of the class was constantly shooting furtive glances back at Fitz, as if they for some reason thought Grim was going to just pop by in the middle of Transfiguration class and take him away.

Professor McGonagall ignored this until finally after turning into a cat and then back into her human form without anyone but FitzSkimmons even seeming to notice, she finally said, "Really, what has got into you all today? Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not got applause from a class."

Everybody's heads turned as one toward Fitz, but nobody spoke. So Fitz did.

"Apparently I'm going to die or something," he said boredly. "Something about a grim. Or someone's grim? Or there was too much grime in the bottom of my tea mug? I don't know, something like that."

"We just had our first Divination class, and we were reading tea leaves," added Simmons in explanation, with a roll of her eyes at her husband for his complete lack of context.

"Ah, of course," said Professor McGonagall. "Then you should know, Potter, that Sibyll Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues — Well, let's just say Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney — Well, you look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don't let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in."

If she expected a laugh at this, she was severely disappointed. Everyone else in the class still clearly had their knickers twisted tight by Trelawney's prediction, whilst FitzSkimmons just wanted everyone to shut up about Grims and Professor McGonagall to get back to teaching them about Animagi, and so no one made a single peep. After several more deathly silent seconds, Professor McGonagall finally resumed her lesson, though it remained a somber fare all around until the bell finally rung letting them out.

FitzSkimmons had just sat down at the Gryffindor table for lunch afterwards when Ginevra Weasley slid into the empty seat across from them and said in a terrified voice, "Is it true? That Harry's tea leaves had a Grim?"

"Damn — how fast does bad news travel around here?" muttered Daisy.

"Well, it is the only thing that travels faster than the speed of light, since it obeys its own special laws," muttered Fitz back.

"Hitchhikers?"

"Yep," nodded Fitz.

Simmons, meanwhile, ignored her spouses' whispered conversation, and said to Ginevra, "Trelawney seemed to think that there might have been some vaguely dog-shaped blob at the bottom of Harry's cup, yes."

"Hermione — if Harry's seen a Grim, that's bad!" gasped Ginevra. Motioning towards Daisy, she continued, "Our uncle Bilius saw one, and he died twenty-four hours later!"

Simmons took a deep breath to try to compose herself. It didn't work.

"Yes, well your entire family's a bunch of pussies who won't even say 'Voldemort' and practically faint from fright every time you hear someone else say it, so it doesn't surprise me that your uncle rolled over and died after seeing a stray dog," she snapped, fed up with the Weasleys' (and wizarding world at large's) bullshit.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" exclaimed Ginevra, getting angry herself. "Grims scare the living daylights out of most wizards!"

"Because most wizards are complete idiots with no common sense!" Simmons snapped back. "You won't even say the name Voldemort for crying out loud, and I bet you don't even have a clue that his real name is Tom Riddle, or T.M. Riddle for short, as he wrote in the front of the diary you talked with for half a year last year! Something scaring the living daylights out of you pathetic people isn't exactly a very high bar to cross! As opposed to the three of us, who have actually faced legitimate life and death situations! A lot!"

Ginevra stared at her in shock for several seconds, before turning to her older sister, looking for support. But upon hearing their wife giving the youngest redhead a thorough dressing-down, Daisy and Fitz had begun poking each other's legs under the table like two actual thirteen year olds, and weren't paying any attention. Seeing that she wasn't going to get any support, Ginevra jumped up and stormed off to sit with her own year further down the table, much to Simmons' gratefulness — Daisy and Fitz were still too busy messing with each other to even notice that Ronna's sister had left.

Hagrid's first ever lesson wasn't going well, to say the least.

It was after lunch, still on the first day of classes, and all the Gryffindor and Slytherin third years were in a paddock on the edge of the Forbidden Forest with a dozen hippogriffs. Hagrid's troubles as a completely inexperienced teacher had started as soon as he'd told everyone to open their books, which no one had a clue how to do since the books tried to bite your head off if you didn't have them securely fastened somehow. And once Hagrid had explained how to open the books without them taking your hand or head off, he'd been so discouraged that he'd lost all his initial enthusiasm, and the lesson was suffering accordingly. But eventually he'd brought out the hippogriffs, and had Fitz ride the one named Buckbeak, and now the entire class was in the paddock bowing to the half-bird, half-horse creatures and trying to pet them.

Fitz had joined Simmons and Daisy at a chestnut colored hippogriff, while Malfoy and his two cronies had taken over with Buckbeak.

Once he'd bowed to Buckbeak and was able to start petting its beak, apparently thinking that Fitz gave a shit, Malfoy drawled loudly, "This is very easy. I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it."

Turning to Buckbeak, he continued on disdainfully, "I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you? Are you, you great ugly brute?"

Up until that moment, Buckbeak had been suffering Malfoy and his two clods with great patience. But even Buckbeak had his limits, and while not quite as proud and easily offended as some of his brother and sister hippogriffs, he still wasn't going to stand for such insolence. So with a flash of his steely talons, he gave Malfoy a warning slash down his arm, that had the Snake screaming like a little girl and collapsing in a heap on the ground as blood began blossoming through the sleeve of his robes.

"I'm dying, I'm dying!" he shrieked, most unlike someone who was actually dying. "Look at me! It's killed me!"

The rest of the class proceeded to panic exactly as one might expect them to, despite it being quite literally the exact opposite of the smart thing to do in an inclosed paddock with eleven other proud, easily offended hippogriffs who already weren't particularly excited about being surrounded by twenty 13 year olds.

As Hagrid began wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar, Simmons immediately rushed over to where Malfoy was writhing on the ground like a soccer player, dropping to her knees by his side.

"Fitz! I need something to wrap his arm up with! Daisy, get over here and hold this cut closed!" she shouted back at the other two as she pushed up Malfoy's sleeve to see what she was actually dealing with.

Daisy immediately rushed to the opposite side of Malfoy, dropping to her own knees to lean over and pinch the long, deep gash on Malfoy's arm closed so he wouldn't lose any more blood than they could help. A second later Fitz dropped to his knees besides Simmons and held out a long strip of cloth he'd cut off the bottom of his robes with a quick severing charm. Simmons quickly had Malfoy's arm wrapped up tightly to stop the bleeding as best she could, before looking up at Daisy.

"It's not life-threatening — can you carry him up to the Hospital Wing?"

"Thirteen year old shrimp? Piece of cake," answered Daisy.

"Let's go." Simmons looked over at Fitz and added, "Go grab our bags."

As Daisy scooped up Malfoy in her arms and Fitz ran across the exclosure to grab their backpacks, Simmons stood up as well and said authoritatively to Hagrid, "We've got him — keep teaching."

Then the three of them made their way up towards the castle, to get Malfoy to the hospital wing.

~FSK~

Despite Simmons' order to continue the lesson, since Hagrid was the teacher it was clearly over.

Throughout the entire time FitzSkimmons were tending to Malfoy's injury, the rest of the class had just stood there and stared at them like they were out of their minds — three Gryffindors helping a Slytherin, and one of the Gryffindors being the archnemesis of the Slytherin in question to boot. And even after FitzSkimmons had headed up to the castle with Malfoy in their arms, everyone still stood around awkwardly for several more minutes, no one knowing what to say or do, before slowly picking up their bags and beginning to make their way back up to the castle themselves.

Even the Slytherins were unsure how they were supposed to react to everything that had just happened. On one hand, it was the perfect opportunity to hate some more on the gamekeeper they already hated, but on the other hand, freaking Harry Potter, a Weasley, and the insufferable mudblood know-it-all had rushed in to help their known mortal enemy who certainly wouldn't have done the same thing in their place, and while everyone knew from a cursory glance that Malfoy certainly wasn't dying like he'd bitched, the trio had still taken the situation very seriously to make sure he would be okay, even taking him up to the hospital wing themselves. Leaving all the Slytherins just too shocked to be properly irate at the oaf Dumbledore had put in charge of Care of Magical Creatures class. And so they just followed all the Gryffindors back up to the castle, saying nary a negative word to Hagrid, or even about him to each other.

Once they all reached the Entrance Hall, however, instead of following everyone else into the Great Hall for a very early supper, Pansy Parkinson set off for the Hospital Wing, just to make sure Malfoy was really okay. Arriving there a few minutes later, she found Draco sitting up on one of the beds with Madam Pomfrey standing next to the bed talking to him.

She was surprised to see that Malfoy didn't have his arm in a sling or cast or anything similar, so that once he left the Hospital Wing he'd be able to show off to the entire castle just how egregiously hurt he'd been by Hagrid's wild beast, and how brave and beautiful he was for still being alive. Along with possibly using it in some manipulative way to get his enemies Potter and Weasley to do all his work for him in class, or at least in Potions where Snape would absolutely jump all over the opportunity to torture the two Gryffindors even more than he did on a weekly basis. Pansy was no idiot — she knew how Malfoy would normally capitalize on the situation that had been handed to him.

But then she caught sight of the Gryffindor trio standing off to the side by an empty bed, silently watching Madam Pomfrey talk to Draco, and she realized that apparently having the three of them there watching as Madam Pomfrey healed him completely in an instant (she wasn't so stupid as to believe that the Matron couldn't), had dissuaded Draco from trying to flaunt his nonexistent injury all around the castle and use it for nefarious schemes to make Potter and Weasley do all his classwork for him.

Cold shouldering them for the moment, Pansy walked over to Malfoy's bed, where she could easily see for herself that Malfoy's arm looked perfectly fine, as if nothing had ever happened to it. Sure that he was okay, she finally walked over to where the three Gryffindors were still standing.

"Why?" she asked coldly, simply because that's how Slytherins and Gryffindors talked to each other. In reality, she was very curious, very confused, and more than a little grateful, if simply for the gesture than the actual act since Malfoy had never really been in any serious danger.

"He was injured, and I'm a doctor," replied Simmons simply. "I wasn't going to just let him die because he hates our guts — he's not Grant Ward. And while the injury certainly wasn't life-threatening, and it was his own bloody fault for getting hurt because he's a pompous arse who didn't listen to Hagrid because he doesn't like the big guy, he still would have suffered significant blood loss before anyone could have carried him up here, so I wrapped his injury up best I could with what we had, and brought him up here for Madam Pomfrey to heal properly."

"But Gryffindors and Slytherins don't help each other," insisted Pansy, still not understanding these three — they had never struck her as the kind of people who would do this kind of thing before. The know-it-all's claim about being a doctor, and her reference to someone named Grant Ward, along with the two names Pansy had never heard before that Granger had called the other two in the paddock were confusing her as well, but not as much as the fact they'd helped Draco.

"We're different — and anyway, would you rather him have died?" replied Simmons, raising an eyebrow at the Slytherin girl. She didn't expect a thanks, but maybe just a little less open hostility from the Slytherin chick wouldn't have gone amiss.

"No," grumbled Pansy sulkily, before returning to Malfoy, not having anything else to bitch about to them.

Sure that Malfoy was okay, and with Pansy now with him, FitzSkimmons left the hospital wing, heading back to their dorm room until they were ready for supper.

~FSK~

Word had apparently spread very quickly throughout the castle about them helping Malfoy, as when FitzSkimmons walked back down through the castle a while later to the Great Hall for supper, every hallway and staircase they went down they heard whispered conversations about their unprecedented actions.

Most people simply seemed to be in shock that a Gryffindor had helped a Slytherin, though they did notice several people giving them glares, which they presumed were from a misplaced sense of betrayal that anyone not in the Den of Snakes would actively help a Snake. But FitzSkimmons ignored them like always, not caring what anyone thought of them, and simply wanting to be left in peace.

As they started eating once they'd made it into the Great Hall, they watched as a large group of Slytherins at the Slytherin table huddled together.

"Think they're cooking up a story about how Hagrid nearly killed Malfoy, now that they've had time to get over their shock of us helping him?" asked Fitz.

"Probably — though I wonder if Malfoy will let them once he catches word of it, given the fact we did help him," replied Daisy. "He still doesn't like us by any stretch of the imagination, but he was less openly hostile towards us after Pomfrey healed his arm and he was no longer completely preoccupied worrying about dying, the point at which he normally would have started throwing insults at us and Hagrid. Although he did say it was damn right of us to help him, as it'd been our friend's pet who'd nearly killed him — or something to that extent."

"He did try to make it sound like we owed him for his mistake, and Hagrid's, shall we say — overenthusiasm — to start with hippogriffs for thirteen year olds who've never taken a magical creatures class before, and quite possibly have never met a magical creature of any kind before if they were raised muggly, but you could tell Malfoy's heart just wasn't into it like normal," said Simmons. "So I doubt he'll stop anyone else from slandering us, but I don't think he'll do it himself. Or maybe some of Fitz's open, loyal, caring nature is just wearing off on me," she finished with a smile at her husband.

FitzSkimmons had already finished eating and were getting ready to leave when they saw Malfoy walk in. Daisy immediately jumped up and quickly walked over to him, FitzSimmons following after her wondering what the bloody hell their wife was doing. Malfoy clearly wondered what she was planning on doing as well, as he looked at her warily and slightly shied away from her as she approached him at a quick stride.

But when she got up to him, Daisy simply threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly, before pulling away and asking sincerely, "How is your arm doing? Is it still feeling okay from where Madam Pomfrey instantly healed it with a wave of her wand? Still not even a scar, I assume?"

Malfoy — along with everyone else at the Slytherin table, and the half of the Great Hall who'd seen three Gryffindors walking over to the Slytherin table — just stared at her like she'd completely lost her marbles, or perhaps never had them to begin with. So after several seconds of standing there smiling pleasantly at everyone gawking at her, not having actually expected any answer anyway, Daisy turned and walked away from the Slytherin table and out of the Great Hall, leaving everyone staring at her disappearing back wondering what the hell had just happened.

"What was that about?" asked Simmons quietly once they were walking up the Grand Staircase. "Not that I mind, but even I'm confused about what that was supposed to be."

"You can save someone from themselves if you get to them early enough," shrugged Daisy in reply. "But no, we're way too late for that — I just wanted to confuse the hell out of him even more than saving him already had. I figured he might have an even harder time being mean to us if he's too confused by us to remember to be mean — if you can't beat 'em, confuse the effing hell out of 'em. Also, it gave me the opportunity to point out to everyone listening that Pomfrey healed him up completely and instantly, should he decide to try to fake a continued injury. Not that he had much chance of doing that anyway since he did walk into the Great Hall clearly okay, but knowing him, once he got over his surprise, he might have tried. I just made it a little harder."

"Well, you certainly confused everyone, that's for sure — Malfoy, Slytherin, and everyone else in the Great Hall," replied Simmons.