With a Little Help from My Friends ~ by Lucy Lupin

Disclaimer: Cornelius Fudge belongs to the adorable J K Rowling. Quite frankly, she's welcome to him. And I still own nothing. Perhaps if I'm really good, I'll get a Firebolt for Christmas.

* * * * *

Chapter Four: Dares and Disruptive Behaviour

Arthur had a very strange conversation with Diana that morning. She had accosted him outside the entrance of the boys' dormitories with her customary greeting of, "A word, please."

Arthur had stayed up until three working on Lucille's record player. So far all it had done was sing - not the English national anthem - but the Peruvian one, and he was completely exhausted. Although there were certain male Ravenclaws who felt differently - social isolation taking its toll on those poor soles - the last thing he felt like at that moment was a bit of Diana. However he nodded and took the head girl's arm, drawing her out of the way of students stumbling out of bed to go to breakfast. Technically boys and girls were not allowed in each others' dorms, but the only teacher allowed in each house's common areas was the house head, and Dumbledore had made his policy (or lack of it) clear on that sort of thing. So long as both the doors and the curtains around a student's bed were left open, if he heard a female voice coming from the senior boys' rooms, he didn't look twice. Of course this was not an issue with the junior boys. Girls were ugly, stupid and boring, and they had sworn off them for life. To be fair, the junior girls had said much the same thing about their male counterparts.

How wrong they both were.

"Arthur Weasley," Diana started, fixing him with her sternest glare.

"Diana McGonagall," he shot back, hoping to get a smile out of her.

Bad idea.

"Now, Arthur, don't you dare give me sass," Diana admonished him, rising up on her toes. At just over six feet, Arthur was a good four inches taller than her, but when she was in Head Girl mode, he always felt four inches too short. "Especially after that stunt you pulled on the train yesterday, you owe me some answers."

"But, Di," Arthur started, unintentionally slipping on the nickname that only Veronica could get away with calling her. Which was an even bigger mistake than referring to her by her full name. A muscle in "Di's" cheek had started to twitch. Suave as always, Weasley, he reflected. "Er, Diana, I wasn't on the train. You saw me enter during the sorting ceremony last-" He suddenly remembered how her face had looked when he had made an appearance and wisely broke off.

"Well, you didn't have to, did you?" Diana continued. "You got one of your minions to carry out your little joke for you. Arthur, I know you have a somewhat unconventional-" she grimaced as if she had just uttered an obscene word "-approach to the way things are done around here, and because you are a good man and the students like you, I have tolerated it. Until now." Arthur flinched. "Really, Arthur, what in Godrey Gryffindor's name made you think that having Molly Morag flash me was a fitting introduction to our new responsibilities?"

Arthur's mouth fell open.

"Yes, I opened the door to her compartment and she pulled her blouse up," Diana confirmed haughtily. "And, no, Arthur, she was not wearing a brasserie underneath."

"I know," Arthur said dreamily. Diana's eyebrows shot up. "I mean, of course she wouldn't, bloody - I mean, blundering - hot day, I can imagine those contraptions could get quite uncomfortable."

"Well, I'm happy to hear that imagining is all you do," Diana cut him off. "I'll never forget the time in our fifth year when I walked into the seventh year girls dormitory and had the misfortune to come across Cornelius Fudge wearing one that belonged to some poor girl." Arthur fought to keep his face straight. "I had to eat chocolate before I went to bed every night for a month to stop the nightmares!"

"Are you sure it wasn't his bra?" The question was out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

"Arthur Weasley!" Arthur's ears had gone bright red. "My goodness! I will certainly have my work cut out for me this year! Anyway, I was paying Molly a visit because I heard an unfortunate rumour that Lucius Malfoy had just been in the compartment with her and only her, with the door closed-"

"Mal-ferret was with her?" Arthur demanded, a brief flash of anger lighting up his pale blue eyes. "Diana, she wouldn't have invited him in. You ought to check that he wasn't imposing himself upon her, his family haven't really mastered the art of taking "no" for an answer, and she is a very attractive girl-"

Diana held up a hand. "I did consider that possibility, but when I came across Miss Morag she seemed collected and composed. The poor girl was more flustered by her explanation of why on earth she had flashed me. She attributed to it some form of dare you had proposed to her, and said that you had told her if she went through with it, you in turn would be indebted to her."

"Ah, yes," Arthur said, thinking quickly, "yes, those were our terms."

"Is this the sort of example you would like to set for our younger students?" Diana began to press, then her expression suddenly went pained. "You may not be aware," she added softly, "that there was strong competition from some quarters to your position as Head Boy. Lucius Malfoy was a possible candidate." Diana was a sharp-eyed woman - indeed, it had been impossible to refer to her as a "girl" for some years - and noticed the way Arthur flinched when she mentioned Lucius' name. "With his bearing and temperament, especially given the ever-increasing amount of Muggle-born students in the school, you can see as well as I what a tragedy that would be. Fortunately my aunt and Professor Dumbledore vouched for you."

Arthur thought that as a sixth year, Molly wasn't really a "younger student," but also thought that this was perhaps not the best time to make that distinction. And he could not only see the wisdom of Diana's words, but the mention of Lucius had sucked any humour out of him. "Yes, Diana, you are, as always, right," he agreed. If Diana picked up on the minute sarcasm he had injected into the last part, she did not comment. "I am aware that I am the new Head Boy, and in the future I will try to ensure that my behaviour reflects as such."

"Don't try," Diana ordered, jabbing a bony finger at him, "do. If you have nothing more to add, then I will bid you good day. And Arthur, whatever Miss Morag has in store for you, I not only hope it is good, but if you keep this sort of conduct up, I may have a few suggestions myself!"

Arthur paled. Diana's stare did not waver. Shit, the woman means it, he realised. "Er, Diana, have you been to breakfast yet?" he asked timidly. "Care to accompany me?"

"As I have already dined, I must sadly be deprived of that pleasure," Diana said primly in a tone that suggested that she felt anything but "deprived," and that only those who rose before the house elves were up were worth mentioning. Arthur, with his bed hair and askew tie, clearly did not fall into that category. "The first prefects meeting is tonight, which we will of course officiate. I will see you then." She turned and walked back towards the girls' dorms.

* * * * *

In the Great Hall Veronica put down the muffin she was buttering and said with careful nonchalance, "Oh, as I was leaving our common room today, I heard Arthur and Diana having a wee chat."

Molly looked up from her toast while Lucille similarly abandoned her sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs and fried tomatoes. How Lucille managed to eat all that crap without putting on a sliver of fat was a mystery to Veronica. Satisfied that she had everyone's attention, she continued, "And I do believe it was something along the lines of your little incident on the train, Molly. Now then, why, if you were the one that flashed our very own Head Girl, would she be talking to Arthur?"

"Perhaps they're collaborating in order to figure out the best punishment for her," Lucille suggested, almost hopefully. She was feeling touchy because, while herself and the other passengers of the car had detentions for the remainder of this week, Molly had emerged unscathed from Diana's wrath. Veronica suspected this was because the head girl was too embarrassed to mention the incident to anyone, and in order to give Molly a detention, she would have to explain why.

"Oh no," Molly groaned, burying her head in her hands. "I forgot to tell him." Veronica and Lucille gave each other mystified looks. "You see," Molly continued, "when Diana asked me on the train why I had flashed her, I said it was because of a dare of Arthur's." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "And I forgot to tell him."

Veronica and Lucille choked into their cups of tea. Thierry, who had arrived just in time to hear Molly's confession, roared and slapped his knee in delight. "Oh, ze pauvre man," he chuckled. "Eet ees terrible enough ter withstand ze wrath of Diana when oo are guilty, mais when a person 'as done notheeng wrong, oh, 'ow Arthur must be sufferin'! Molly, yer 'ave put 'im through purgatory! Ma 'at goes off ter yer."

"I didn't mean to," Molly whispered, shamefaced. "I was going to tell him, but then I couldn't figured out how to do it, and then I got all embarrassed, and then Thierry made his announcement after dinner so I got excited about that and I completely forgot - oh, poor Arthur!"

"And what else did you tell Minnie?" Veronica asked.

"I, oh dear, after I told her Arthur had made me do it on a dare, I told her that if I went through with it, I'd get to make him do something embarrassing in return."

"C'est vrai?" Thierry looked as though all his Christmases had come at once.

Molly nodded mutely.

"And I don't think Arthur would blow your cover, would he?" Veronica asked, an identical look on her face to Thierry's.

Another nod from Molly.

"Well, then," Lucille began after she and Veronica had shared a look, "it seems to me that both of you lied to Diana, and if she were to find that out, well, who knows what she would be capable of doing?" Molly looked stricken. "If you told Diana," Lucille continued, "that you double-dared each other, yet failed to give Arthur a task, things would look very suspicious indeed. So it appears that the safest option for everyone would be if you went ahead and gave him a dare."

"Yes, yes," Molly nodded absently, "that would be a good idea. Of course, it would have to be something mild, after all I've done to the poor man, I couldn't make him do anything humiliating." She looked up to see Veronica and Lucille shaking their heads from side-to-side solemnly. "What?"

"Oh, Molly dearest, no," Lucille told her soberly. "That wouldn't do at all."

"Why ever not?" Molly demanded.

"You see," Veronica stepped up to the plate, grinning broadly, "daring someone to flash the head girl would be pretty full on in anyone's book. So you can't just get him to recite Shakespeare in Transfiguration or something like that. No Molly, if you give him a wimpy dare like that the game will be up. The punishment has to fit the crime."

"A wand for a wand," Lucille nodded.

"But I don't want to embarrass Arthur," Molly protested. "And I don't think I could ever think of anything like that of him to do."

"Of course you couldn't, dearest," Lucille soothed. "You're everyone's second mum, there's no way we would expect that sort of behaviour from you, and we wouldn't want you to change either." Molly looked relieved. Lucille's eyes lit up wickedly. "Which is why we have decided to make up the dare for Arthur."

"Oh, don't!" Molly begged.

"Zat eez right," Thierry smirked. "An' since eet should be sometheeng of a similaire magneetude, eet should involve nudity aussi."

"Brilliant," Lucille breathed.

"And naked dancing," Veronica countered. "He says he's making good progress on your record player, Lucille - ooh, he could strip!"

"Guys, this is too much-"

"But it would be a shame to waste that lovely voice of his," Lucille put her two sickles worth in. "I know! He could sing, strip and dance to one of my records!"

"Genius!" Veronica applauded.

Molly had gone the colour of raspberry cordial. "How you three Slytherin sneaks ever made it into Gryffindor, I'll never know," she said. "Now enough with the humiliation, please! Surely even you lot can't think of anything worse-"

"And ee can do eet dans le Gryffindor common room sur Friday night," Thierry concluded. "Zat way when people go to 'Ogsmeades on Saturday, zey weel 'ave sometheeng to talk about. Tout l'ecole savoiront!"

"Yes, the whole school will know!" Lucille echoed Thierry, which had the added benefit of translating what he had just said into English. "Thierry, you are so fucking brilliantly evil! I love it!"

Unlike Veronica, Molly was not really in the position to marvel at a rare and wondrous moment that involved Thierry and Lucille actually getting along. Instead, she had buried her head in her arms and was groaning.

Sparing Molly from further torment, Zachary Lupin and Holly Wood had arrived. "Our schedules grate this year," the petite brunette announced as she and Zachary plonked down on either side of Thierry. "I have Finch right after breakfast - before my food even has time to settle in my stomach. At least I'm with the Hufflepuffs though. How about you guys?"

"We haven't actually looked at our schedules today, have we Molly?" Lucille asked rhetorically, which was just as well, because Molly didn't respond. "Oh blast it! We have Finch right before lunch, talk about ruining your appetite."

"An' yer appetite cannot afford ter be ruined any more," Thierry chipped in, casting an assessing eye over Lucille's twig-like build. She blushed and scowled, hunching over to obscure Thierry's view. "Do not bothaire, cherie, yer 'ave about as much ter 'ide as I do."

"If you ask me," Molly said quickly, seeking to diffuse Lucille and Thierry's argument, "the best time to have a pinch of Finch is during lunch, meaning no one has him for class at all and you get to bite him!" She said this with such venom that even Lucille started to laugh.

"So delighted to see that I am providing some form of entertainment for students who have no lives of their own to discuss," a voice drawled form behind her. Molly sunk lower in her seat. "Ten point off Gryffindor for disrespectful conduct towards a professor. And Miss Black, you're looking a little peaky this term. I would suggest, in fact strongly - no, strenuously - recommend beauty sleep in your case. And do kindly remove that revolting mess from around your eyes before I see you during third hour. One can only accentuate their good looks when they have them to begin with."

The corners of Lucille's mouth plummeted towards the floor. "So are we ter zen assume zat yer are withaired avec age and not simply ugly?" Thierry enquired icily.

"Such insolence!" Finch snapped. "I will not tolerate this lack of behaviour, especially from a foreigner! A further ten points from Gryffindor, at this rate your cosy little alcove of Muggleborns and half-bloods and your beloved Dumbledore will soon be in negatives."

"Like you?" Thierry enquired.

"Ten more points, that is," Finch said with great satisfaction. Thierry scowled. "Keep on talking my dear frog, it is almost solely to your and Mister Weasley's antics that we owe winning the house cup for the sixth year in a row. And I will see you in detention tonight. Eight o'clock sharp." With that he spun on a sharp black heel and strode off.

"Zat, zat cochon!" Thierry spat. "N'inquiete pas, Lucille, I think yer look vair nice today." Lucille gave him a hesitant smile. "En fact, do yer 'ave any more of zat stuff avec yer?"

"Yeah, here it is," Lucille said, producing a black eyeliner pencil from her pocket and dropping it into his palm. "Wait, why do you want it?"

"Keep steel, I won't 'urt yer," Thierry said, leaning across Holly. He gently cupped Lucille's chin in his hand, forcing her head upwards, and began to thicken the eyeliner around her eyes. "Eef 'e 'as un probleme weeth yer eyeliner, I weel give 'im eyeliner!"

"Um, Thierry," Lucille began as she tried to squirm away, "you do realise that the point of makeup is to make people look better? I'm going to look like a right fool." Veronica began to chuckle, for Lucille now looked like she had gone a round with a heavyweight boxer and come off by far the worse.

"No yer won't, parce que we all weel wear eyelinaire!" Thierry declared, finishing with Lucille and subjecting Holly to the same fate. "Tout le table! We weel give 'im so much "revoltin' mess" zat 'e weel not no where ter look!" Lucille had borrowed a mirror from a girl further down the table and was starting to laugh at what she saw.

* * * * *

Eventually Thierry persuaded almost the entire house to don Lucille's eyeliner, which by the end of breakfast was worn down almost to a thin stub. "I'll have to owl Mama for some more," Lucille had mused, looking regretfully down at what was left of the pencil. Molly's third year sister, Rhiannon, also had some red lipstick, so Molly and Lucille showed up to their third period Potions class looking like turn-of-the-century clowns.

Finch didn't have clowns on the mind though. "You both look like scarlet women," he sneered as they deliberately took seats near the front of the room. "Which is fitting considering both the colours and the morality of the house which you suffer your presence with."

Molly and Lucille both stared back at him levelly. Because their make-up had intended provocation, they were neither surprised nor offend by his comments. "Morag!" Finch spat suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

If Finch had not been looking right at her, Molly would have rolled her blackened-out eyes. Finch went through this same routine every year, without fail, and it was never a Slytherin who was selected to answer these questions. An idea had popped into her head. Underneath the table she elbowed Lucille. "A stone taken from the stomach of a goat that will save you from most poisons, sir?" she suggested timidly.

Finch's eyebrows shot upwards. She could hair a few scattered titters from her classmates behind her. "Black, by name and reputation!" he snapped. Lucille merely inclined her head coolly. She had told Molly that the Potions master had been subjected to some utterly nasty, but thoroughly deserved, pranks by her father while they were at school together. "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"They are the same plant, which goes by the name of aconite, sir," Lucille replied shyly, the corners of her mouth twitching. Behind them a few more voices were added to the laughter.

"Well, then," Finch drew himself up to his full height, which was a very imposing five and a half feet. "Let me once again resume the search to find a single brain cell in Gryffindor house. Lupin! What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"My first guess would be," Zachary mused, his golden eyes glinting in concentration, "that they would make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death." Molly winked at Lucille. The prefect had obviously decided to go along with their game. "However, Professor Trelawney taught me that there is always something in a name, and if you permit my saying so, sir, monkshood does sound rather obscene." A few girls were looking outraged. The rest of the class, including Molly and Lucille, had collapsed with laughter.

Finch's nose was now visibly twitching. "Mr Lupin, it is Asphodel and Wormwood that make a sleeping point so powerful that is known is the Draught of Living Death!"

he snarled. "Which I believe was the answer you were racking the "To Let" for spot in your head that most people rent out to their brains for, Miss Morag."

Molly and Lucille shot each other open-mouthed looks. Zachary clapped a hand to his forehead and moaned, "Dang! So that was the question I missed on my OWL!" There was a thump behind them as a Ravenclaw laughed so hard that he fell off his stool.

"A Bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat that will save you from most poisons, Miss Black," Finch continued icily. Lucille gave a Molly a wow-wouldn't-you-know shrug. "Although I am becoming increasingly relieved that you are not in possession of that particular snippet of information. My hand may just slip over your pumpkin juice one of these days. And, finally, monkhood and wolfsbane are the same plant, apparently similar in properties to the one the three of you appeared to have indulged in before gracing us with your presence."

"Wow, now that is useful information," Zachary grinned. "Thank you, sir." Molly clapped a hand over her mouth. Lucille had conveniently started to cough. The rest of the class was not so subtle in their response.

"Silence!" Finch roared, and the noise instantly fell to pin-drop level, save the isolated nervous giggle from a girl in the back of the room. "Bell, I will deal with you later."

"Later?" Molly whispered to Lucille. "After the bell, perhaps?" The part-French witch buried her head in her arms, shaking with silent laughter.

"As for the three delinquents from Albus Dumbledore's house, little surprise there, for your insolence I will remove one point from Gryffindor. Each."

"He's giving us one each," Zachary said to his neighbour, Sylvian Davies. "Can't really split one into thirds, can we? That's Slytherin generosity for you. I almost feel as though Christmas is here already." Sylvian was wiping a tear from his eye.

Very lucky Finch did not hear Zachary. "A further three points will also be removed for each of you failing to locate in those uncharted recesses of your malnourished brains the correct answer, and a detention for Mr Lupin for his oh-so-brilliant attempt at a pun," he continued. "A vital ingredient of punning is eloquence, Mr Lupin, which you appear to severely to lack. Six points off Gryffindor already, and we are not even five minutes past the hour. You are outdoing yourselves today."

"But sir," Lucille protested, "if you were to look at it more closely, on a technicality we all did get the right answer. But to each other's questions."

The giggling from the back of the room once again started up. "It appears you have company in detention, Mr Lupin," Finch drawled.

"But what if she already has a detention after school today?" Alistair Bell asked. "Not that Mr Lupin would mind your generosity in keeping him company with the leggiest brunette in the school, that is." Lucille turned bright red. "Now if only Miss Morag could act up a bit more during this lesson, you'd make all his dreams come true."

For a moment Finch was rendered speechless, his mouth snapping open and shut like a goldfish. Much like the period of stagnation when someone sees a glass of milk about to topple over but know they are too far away to do anything about it, the class waited for the tidal wave to hit. When it finally came, it was with spectacular devastation. "I am at the end of my tether!" Finch roared. "Your insolence has brought about a change of plan. Instead of beginning the Headache Banishment Drought, we will review the Shrinking Solution which you all should have mastered during third year." He shot a look at Lucille, who gulped. Potions wasn't her forte. "And after class, every single one of you will feed your solution to your beloved familiar." At the news a sea of white faces greeted him. All was once again right with the world. "If you fail to follow the procedure correctly, well, they may be a few owls sent out to Daddy asking for a new one." This retort seemed to be particularly aimed at Lucille, whose family was known as being wealthy and who had a reputation of being something of a daddy's girl. For the first time that hour, Finch smiled. "The instructions are on page 241. You may now begin."

"Blimey," Molly whispered to Lucille.

They were soon elbow-deep in ingredients, lips pursed in concentration. "Hey, Arabella," Molly heard Gryffindor Belmaine Burnett call to an attractive dark-haired Ravenclaw, "want to skin my Shrivelfig?"

Molly sent him a don't push it, we've had two detentions already look and tried to think disapproving thoughts but inside she was laughing. Zachary was tut-tutting comically. "Shrivelfig's like it in his case," Sylvian quipped.

"I am an innocent little Irish girl," Molly told herself, "and did not understand any part of that last statement."

Next to her, Lucille scoffed, "Oh, come off it, Molly."

* * * * *

For whatever reason Arthur had been selected as Head Boy, it was not because of his time-keeping skills. It was twenty past seven and he was, as usual, running late - though not by his standards. His glasses were sliding forward over his nose and he had tripped on the hem of his robes twice on his way downstairs. Finally he reached the lounge next to the library that was the prefect's domain. His entrance, noticeable anyway for its tardiness, was even more pronounced when, yet again, he tripped over the hem of his robes and fell flat on his face. Blair Zabini, one of the two Slytherin prefects, rolled his eyes disdainfully.

At the thud Arthur made, Veronica looked up calmly and glanced at Zachary. "Do you want to say it, or should I?" she asked.

"You thought of it first," Zachary shrugged amicably. "You do the honours."

Veronica cleared her throat and looked over at the doorway. "Nice of you to drop in, Arthur."

"Er, thanks, Veronica," Arthur said absently, dusting off his robes and making his way to the two seats at the head of the semi-circle of prefects that had been reserved for himself and Diana. The head girl coolly nodded at his stammered apology and flicked open a well-worn notebook. "Now, first on the agenda," she began, "introductions will be made. You must pair up with someone outside of your own house, find out their full name, favourite food, colour and Beatles album-" here Arthur grinned "-how many siblings they have and what their hobbies are. Five minutes later, we will reassemble and you will introduce your partner to the rest of the group. Arthur Weasley and myself will, naturally, introduce each other."

Veronica noticed that Diana's nose was twitching with disapproval as she said this. She guessed that the head girl didn't relish the idea of losing some of her mystique, and no points for guessing which head student had thought of this icebreaker. Zachary glanced across the room, where both Slytherin prefects glowered at him. "I'll take Zabini," he volunteered, rising to his feet.

"Brave man," Veronica said. Zachary had reacquainted himself with Zabini, who looked as though he was being visited by his least favourite aunt. Cordelia Sinistra, the female Ravenclaw prefect, had befriended her Hufflepuff opposite and a very nervous looking Sylvian Davies was currently stammering out his vital statistics to the second Slytherin prefect, who although wand-thin looked as though she could swallow all of the Fabulous Four in one gulp. She glanced to her left and found a boy seated next to her, fiddling with his black and yellow tie.

Because she had initially entered the room and made a beeline for Zachary, Veronica had not noticed him there. Now that she had, she was surprised it had taken so long. The boy was tallish, about five-eleven, and had wavy blond hair that curled about his collar and chocolate-brown eyes, her favourite colour combination. She also had the distinct impression that he had dimples when he smiled. Unfortunately he was not smiling now. His hands were twisting into the striped fabric of his tie as if he was faced with something particularly unpleasant to do.

Another girl would have been offended by the lack of interest he was showing in her direction. It wasn't that Veronica wasn't either, but her friendliness and natural curiosity about other people made her resolve to seek out the cause of the prefect's ill-ease and talk it away. "I'm Veronica Vector," she said, offering a hand. The Hufflepuff took it reluctantly. "I'm a seventh year and the male Ravenclaw prefect."

"Ravenclaw? Male?" The boy's bored expression slipped from his face. She had successfully shocked him into paying attention. "B-but your tie is scarlet and gold, and you are very much-" his eyes took in her body and he started to blush "-er, not a male."

"I'm glad someone realises," Veronica joked. "If my housemates are aware of that, they're certainly not letting on!" The prefect raised one eyebrow. Feeling as though she may have revealed too much, she added, "and you are?" The boy muttered something inaudible. Leaning forward, Veronica said, "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch what you said just then."

"My name is William," the boy said, looking as though he was about to cry. "I'm Will Zjablomej."

* * * * *