Disclaimer is in chapter 1.

When Harry was pulled out of potions class for the wand weighing ceremony he was understandably nervous, following Collin to where things had been setup he felt entirely out of his depth and was dreading every step that brought him closer to dealing with events he didn't understand. On arrival, however, he immediately noted Andromeda Tonks standing in the corner of the room, and she nodded to him.

The weight he felt lift from him then was incalculable. Someone was there for him.

An adult even.

It was really the first time in his life, barring maybe Hagrid's intervention on his eleventh birthday, that he could remember an adult really stepping in on his side of matters. More importantly, she didn't just happen to be there. She had told him she would be there, and she actually followed through.

In his experience, no one did that. At least, no adults. Hermione did, of course, and he tried to. Ron had, though lately Ron wasn't exactly on his side anymore. Xander did as well, and he brought Wednesday. But an adult?

Harry suddenly relaxed, despite the wash of attention flooding over him and forced a smile. He wasn't alone in this, at least not entirely.

From her vantage point, Andromeda watched the young man as he was mobbed by the press and ministry, some Aurors actually holding back the lad's fans as he was guided to the wand weighing platform. He'd looked a wreck as he walked in, and she hadn't needed to even touch on her modest skill in Legilimency to read his thoughts then.

The change he'd experienced when he'd noticed her, however, was nothing short of shocking. It was almost pathetic, the sheer sense of relief he'd felt, that had actually washed through the boy and into the room. Hades below! His sudden relief and relaxation had actually impacted the audience!

Andromeda focused on the crowd for a moment, noting that they had suddenly hushed and were murmuring happily. He had! Harry's little burst of emotion had quieted the entire room, and it had been unintentional at that.

' That's not a Potter trait… ' She thought as she moved closer to keep an eye on her charge. ' Empathic projection? Something else? Possibly just accidental magic, but lord if that's the case the boy must be as powerful as Merlin himself. '

She shelved those thoughts in her Occlumency inspired mental library, keeping them on an easily accessible shelf, and sharpened her focus on the boy himself. He was now approaching Ollivander to have his wand weighed, and she could see Skeeter moving in for the kill.

"Mr. Potter, a moment please! I'd like an interview with the Champions… why don't we go somewhere quieter…" Rita was saying as Andromeda appeared behind her, attracting Harry's attention.

She subtly shook her head.

"Uh, no I don't think so Miss, uh?"

"Skeeter, Rita Skeeter young man." The woman in question said, an acid green quill appearing in her hand. "Just a few questions then."

The quill in question jumped to action, animated by its own internal magic, as Rita began to speak. Andromeda, familiar enough with the infernal device, lazily let her wand snap out as she intoned a Finite.

Rita hissed, turning on her, "What do you think you're doing!? That's private property!"

"And I speak for the Regent Black." Andromeda countered coldly. "Watch where you're playing Rita, lest you find yourself in the path of your betters and… shall we say, get stepped on?"

Rita paled slightly, taking half a step back.

"B… Black? There's no Lord Black…"

"Oh, but there is. Gringotts international and the ICW have confirmed Sirius Black as the Lord Black. His status in Britain is that of an Exiled Lord. I believe that you'll find that all Black accounts are fully active once more, and a Regent has been appointed."

"Preposterous! Black is a convicted…"

Andromeda cut her off, a shark like smile sending shivers down Rita's smile. "You can't be convicted if you're not given a trial, Rita."

Rita swallowed, her mouth dry. "No trial?"

"Really, Skeeter," Andromeda said coldly, "You shouldn't be so closed to what's going on outside of Britain. That story made the rounds *weeks* ago."

Rita's mind was whirring, if what she was being told was true the impact potential was enormous. The ministry hadn't given Black a trial? Granted, they weren't legally *required* to do so, Rita was fully aware of that aspect of Wizarding law, but it was bad form to say the least. Especially when dealing with a Lord or Heir of a major house.

That wasn't to say that it wasn't done, it had happened before many times in history, but all those times had certain elements in common. Generally they only happened with the person in question was considered too dangerous to leave free, despite a lack of proof. In fact, the last time it had happened to her knowledge was several hundred years earlier and under the order of the muggle King.

The other thing those instances held in common was that it was extremely bad form to ever let them escape. Generally when that happened, bad things were soon to happen to the people responsible for the incarceration.

Following that logic, Rita found herself suddenly unwilling to attract too much attention from Lord Black, exile notwithstanding.

"I see…" She said slowly, drawing out a normal quill from her pouch. "Well… I'll look into those allegations, Andromeda. In the meantime, I do have an interview to conduct?"

Andromeda smiled thinly, recognizing the capitulation and the request for permission. "Of course, so long as Mr. Potter has no objections."

Harry blinked, stumped for a moment as the attention slipped back in his direction. Making a note to ask Andromeda what exactly all that had been about, specifically, he nodded. "Of course."

Rita carefully gripped her quill, a little unfamiliar with using one the proper way by this time, but determined not to test the patience of the Black representative. At least not until she had a chance to confirm what had been said.

With that thought in mind she began asking questions.

After the ceremony and pomp, Harry took a moment to speak to Andromeda.

"Really, what was that all about with the reporter?"

"Skeeter?" Andromeda asked, sneering slightly, "She's a bottom feeder, but a popular quill for the highest bidder. Generally that means Malfoy, in case you were wondering."

"Oh." Harry had a sinking feeling.

"Don't worry about it. She won't be getting any money from Lucius to smear you, not with Cissy on your side," Andromeda permitted herself a smile. "That, combined with the threat of the Black holdings, will keep her honest at least."

"Oh."

Honestly, Harry didn't really know what to think about that.

"Now, I'll be around for all the public events," Andromeda promised Harry, "or I'll send someone who can stand in for me. But be careful around school and in Hogsmeade, Harry. These types are gutter trash by nature, they'll be around whether you see them or not."

"They will?" Now that was something Harry did know what to think about, and he really didn't like it. "Crap."

"Indeed." Andromeda smiled, "Don't fret too much, child. You'll do fine."

Harry's expression didn't change, which just seemed to amuse Andromeda more than anything else as the two walked away from the hall.

"Press, huh?" Xander asked, breathlessly, as he threw himself to one side to avoid a stunner. He'd learned the hard way not to try and shield against Harry's stunners, the damn things had to be armor piercing or something.

Harry nodded, flipping his hair back as he danced to once side to avoid the jinxes Xander sent his way, "Yeah. Mrs. Tonks is scary when she's angry."

Xander laughed, rolling to his feet and coming up firing. "You just described every girl I know."

Harry twisted, not able to answer as he realized that he'd been bracketed. He threw up a shield, but it was hammered down in a second as Xander's last three stunners slammed home. The red flash was the last thing he remembered until he was enervated.

"Damn," He moaned, being helped to his feet. "Every time I think I've got you, you pull something like that."

Xander just grinned, "Harry, what can I say? You inspire me to new levels of effort, I'll do anything it takes to kick your ass."

"How did I get so bloody lucky?" Harry grumbled, shaking his head. "Alright, show me how you pulled that last sequence off."

Xander nodded and the two moved from the practical to the theoretical as they cooled off from the practice. Xander wasn't kidding when he told Harry that he was inspired to new levels of effort, though, he thought ruefully. In order to stay just one step ahead of the boy he was forced to practice new moves practically daily, and he didn't know how much longer he could keep it up.

"You know anything about your first task in the tournament?" he asked as they worked.

Harry shook his head, "No. All I know is that I'm getting my arse kicked by someone my age, so how bloody screwed am I against Krum and Diggory?"

Xander chuckled, earning himself a dark look. "Not worried about Fleur?"

Harry shuddered, "If you think I'm barmy enough to take her on, you're dumber than you look. Give me Krum or Diggory any day. That girl makes me think of a female Malfoy, you know if Malfoy was competent."

"I think that's a little harsh," Xander laughed, "What did she ever do to you?"

"She called me a 'leetle boy'," Harry replied sourly, earning him another crowing laugh from Xander, much to his annoyance.

Dragons.

Harry had an urge welling up inside him, telling him to just curl and up and cry. It would feel so damned good. Of course he wasn't going to do that, but damned if he didn't want to sometimes.

Ron had come through, finally, the semi-git had delivered a message that had brought Harry to Hagrid and the source of his current fear.

Freaking DRAGONS.

He was a kid for merlin's sake! What did he know about dragons? It was insane!

Ok, curling up and crying was out, but the second urge was to howl at the moon or something. That was a distinct possibility.

Harry just didn't know how he kept getting into these sorts of spots.

"Dragons?"

Hermione sounded, and in fact was, horrified. How could they let dragons loose on students?

"Harsh." Xander whistled softly. "I don't know any spells that are going to help you with this one, mate."

Harry nodded miserably. "Moody says I should play to my strengths."

Xander snorted.

"What's so funny?" Harry scowled.

"Well, you only have two options, right? You're strengths, or your opponents weaknesses. Given that it's freakin dragons, you're not going to find too many of the latter." Xander snickered. "So I guess you'd better play to your strengths."

Harry rolled his eyes, "Thanks for the words of wisdom."

"Anyway," Hermione sighed, "So what strengths do we play to?"

"We can safely rule out potion making," Xander smirked.

"Not helping." Hermione scowled.

Xander just smirked again and shrugged, but otherwise stayed silent.

"Harry, you're a great flyer," Hermione said, thinking hard.

"Yeah, but I'm not allowed to bring my broom."

"You get to keep your wand, right? Summon it." Xander said, "Your Accio charm is scary powerful, I should know you practically took a wall down with one the other day."

"See?" Hermione asked enthusiastically, "You can summon your broom!"

"And outfly a dragon?" Wednesday asked softly.

The others turned to look at her, but she merely shrugged slightly.

"The air is their element, as much as the flame." She said, looking at Harry. "Make no mistake… Harry... you're a natural flyer, but are you that confident?"

Harry grimaced, thinking about it. With his wand and his broom… maybe. Just maybe, he didn't know.

"He can pull it off." Xander said quietly. "My money says he can anyway."

Wednesday raised an eyebrow, "Really, and you know dragons so well?"

"No, not at all." Xander said, "but I know Harry's skill and power."

"Xander, I can't even beat you in a duel." Harry blinked.

Xander snorted, "Harry… I cheat."

The look of shock and betrayal on Harry's face was so profound that Wednesday couldn't help but smile.

"You… wha? But how?" Harry stammered out.

"If I told you that I'd have to figure out another way to cheat, dude."

"Bu… uh… but…"

"As amusing as this is," Wednesday broke in, "I believe we may be straying from the subject at hand. I'll concede that Alexander may be correct, however I would like to point out that your flying ability and raw power are not your only strengths."

"They're not?" Harry asked, blinking, "Wait… what raw power?"

The Addams scion sighed, a long suffering sigh. "If we were at my home, I would strap you to one of our play tables for stupidity of that level."

Xander winced, though the other two just looked confused.

Wednesday elected not to bother clarifying the comment, "Harry, you're a Parselmouth."

Hermione gasped, eyes wide. "You are?"

"Shh…" Harry hissed, "Ron said that it's a dark wizard thing, I don't need that kind of attention."

"Ron is an idiot." Wednesday said simply. "It's a blood line trait, most notably from the Slytherin bloodline in England, however it's been known in several other families as well."

"Really? Like who?"

"Asclepius from Greece would be the most notable, his line used serpens and vipera based magic as a healing tool. In Cambodia, the Shiwin Wei line used it for the potent protection magic snakes can provide, as did the Egyptians. Serpent magic is very old, one of the oldest branches of magic that exists," She said seriously, "and as such it has a deep well of power, from both the light and the dark. Serpents are by their nature, neutral predators. Good and Evil are human inventions."

The three others stared at her, open mouthed.

"What?" Wednesday asked after a long pause, when it became clear that none of the others were going to say anything.

"It's just… we've never heard you talk so much before." Xander replied honestly.

The glare she shot him made him rethink the whole 'honesty is the best policy' thing, and had Xander considering the benefits of bolting for the hall.

"As I was saying," Wednesday said, turning away, "Parselmouth is hardly dark, it's merely considered to be so in England because your Dark Lords have a penchant for the dramatic."

"How would it help anyway?" Harry asked, still confused.

Wednesday sighed again, closing her eyes. "Why do I bother?"

"I'm not sure I understand either," Hermione admitted, "Dragons aren't snakes, wouldn't they have their own language?"

Wednesday looked over at Xander, "Are you as ignorant?"

Xander shrugged, "You obviously know a lot more than me, but aren't dragons referred to as 'great serpents' in like, every mythology I've ever heard of?"

Wednesday nodded, gracing him with a slight smile. "Precisely. Physically, you are correct, Hermione. They have no relation to snakes at all, and their 'language', such as it is, is completely different as well."

"Well then how does that help?"

"Magically," Wednesday ignored Harry, "however, is another matter entirely. Magically they're almost identical to serpents, merely… more so."

"Harry still couldn't talk to them, though, I mean… if the languages are different vocally?" Hermione looked terribly confused.

"True," Wednesday conceded, "However we do have several possibilities that remain open, such as Legilimens."

"Whoa." Xander whistled, "That's some serious magic, Wens."

She shot him a dark look, but Xander ignored it.

"No, seriously," He said, leaning forward. "I'm an occlumens, but Legilimens is tough."

"If he can learn a Patronus, I'm certain he can manage," She replied dryly.

"Maybe." Xander shrugged.

"You said options," Hermione said, looking up from the notes she was taking. "What are the others?"

"There are spells to alter the timber of Parseltongue to match a Dragons tonality," Wednesday said, "Though obviously they won't be located here."

"That doesn't do me a lot of good," Harry sighed.

"Where are they located, Wens?" Xander asked with a smile.

She didn't bother glaring at him this time, merely shrugging. "I'm fairly certain that the Addams library has references."

Harry looked at her, surprised. "You'd do that for me?"

"No." She said simply, causing Harry to droop while looking angry at the same time. "I would, however, request those references for Hermione and Alexander… since they seem to have taken an interest in your otherwise pathetic self."

Ouch. Even Xander winced at that one. Harry looked like he'd been gut-shot, eyes wide as he stared at Wednesday.

"Wednesday!" Hermione hissed, "That's rude."

"Truth often is." She deadpanned, "make no mistake, I have very little interest in helping you Harry Potter. My friends, however, see more in you than I do. Perhaps they're right, and I am wrong. I doubt it, however I would be… pleased if you proved me wrong."

"W… why?"

Wednesday raised an eyebrow, "Why what?"

"Why would you be pleased if you were wrong?"

She sighed again, shaking her head as she looked between Hermione and Xander. "Honestly, what DO you see in him?"

Harry was starting to get angry now, more than hurt, but Wednesday simple stood up and started gathering her books as she stared evenly at him.

"It is simple, Mr. Potter," She said, "if I am proven wrong, then it shows that I showed very good judgment in choosing my friends, because they obviously fill in areas that I will have proven deficient in. If you prove to be worth their time, you prove their worth as well as your own."

Harry blinked.

Wednesday finished gathering up her things and headed out of the library, commenting softly over her shoulder. "I'll send for the references. In the meantime, I suggest you work on your summoning and the Legilimens spell. A quiver with only one arrow is a fragile tool to rely on."

After she was gone, Harry shivered.

"You know, she freaks me out and really ticks me off all at the same time," He said.

Xander shrugged, smirking, "She freaks me out and makes me real happy to be me all at the same time."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure she won't kill me, so being me is a good thing to be." Xander grinned. "So, what do you want to do, mate?"

Harry sighed, "What she said, I guess. She has a point, better to have options."

Xander nodded, "Alright. We've got some work ahead of us. You in Herms?"

Hermione nodded determinedly.

Xander stretched his neck out, working the kink from it as he looked over the revised notes Hermione and Wednesday had given him on the spell he was trying to tinker into existence. They'd done miracles, to be honest, by reducing the equation he'd scribbled to something even he could understand.

He smiled wryly at the irony of that statement, but it was nonetheless true. He'd written the previous equation in pieces, understanding the individual components well enough, but the whole had been a tangled mess beyond his knowledge. The new equation was only six inches of parchment long, about half a page single spaced, and while still daunting Xander could recognize the elements of the spell he'd designed within.

The equation was only half the problem of spell creation, however. The other half was the sticky part. Arithmancy was a fairly well understood science, in so much as any magic could be considered a science Xander supposed. It was possible to arithmantically describe all spells, but the equation didn't actually cast the spell.

There also wasn't much connection between the two, more's the pity.

He had the equation to describe the spell now, what would follow, Xander suspected, would be the difficult part.

Unlike the arithmantic component, there was no book on how to continue on from the point he had reached. Several books referenced it, but like everything else in the Magical world, the exact process was so secret that Xander doubted anyone knew the method. He suspected that most spells were created by dumb luck masquerading as knowledge, just by looking at the list of spells and their creators.

In the non-magical world, inventors tended to specialize. Not always intentionally, but there was always something they were better at than the rest. In the magical world, apparently that didn't hold true. Dark Lords were credited with inventing healing spells, tickling charms and all manner of nonsensical spellwork. Otherwise inconsequential wizards and witches had developed some of the darkest curses in history.

Only the unforgivables themselves were credited to people Xander would have guessed at. The Cruciatus had been created by an Outlaw Black, a man who'd murdered his way across England centuries earlier. Not so much a Dark Lord as a serial killer, from what the texts said. The killing curse was credited to a genuine dark lord from two centuries earlier, well mostly credited. There was some controversy over all of the so called unforgivables, with some people claiming that each were 'misunderstood'.

It was a common cry in darker times, Xander had found in his reading. People on one side of another excusing the unforgivables under common cries. The killing curse was for slaughtering animals humanely. Bullshit. The Cruciatus was a medical spell, intended to help certain nerve ailments. Bullshit. The Imperio was merely to help prevent suicides. BULLSHIT.

Xander couldn't believe the crap people put down on paper.

Who designs a spell capable of piercing every magical shield known to exist merely to slaughter animals? No one. Absolutely not one single soul on the planet would put that much work into a spell intended for use in a slaughter house where the victim could not defend themselves. To say otherwise was to insult the spell's victims, to call them cattle. It disgusted him to read, even when the text was over a century old.

The spell's incantation itself spoke the truth of the spell after all. Avada Kedavra. From the ancient Sumerian, Abra Cadabra, meaning 'let this thing be destroyed'. The pseudo Latin incantation translated, roughly, to 'Let this Soul be Destroyed'. Its creator had a dark sense of humor.

The other two were similar, Cruciatus was linked strongly with the word excruciating. Hardly a medical term. Imperio, was linked to Imperial obviously, in the old term. Xander supposed it might be more accurately termed the 'slave curse', Imperial being a reference to dominance.

Xander didn't know if the spells were evil by nature or entirely neutral, but they had not been developed innocently. Anyone who claimed otherwise was an imbecile, or a liar with an agenda.

What interested Xander most about the unforgivables, however, wasn't their nature. It was that they were among the very few spells he had researched that appeared to have been created *intentionally*.

That was a secret for which Xander would think long and hard about killing to obtain.

Unfortunately, or perhaps not, none of the creators of those three most infamous spells survived their creation by more than six years. Which left him rather back where he had started, much to his disgust.

While Xander was wrestling with the intangibles of spell creation, Harry was working harder than he had since leaving the Dursleys that summer. He was no stranger to sweat, but it was a new and different experience to be working for himself instead of for someone else.

His dueling practice had gone by the side, left for the moment in favor of something that might keep him alive against a dragon.

The summoning idea was a good one, Harry had determined for himself. He could summon things from a long distance off with little trouble, thanks to Xander showing him the spell's counterpart, the banishing charm. Both worked much the same, thankfully, and Harry had learned both quite well.

He and Hermione had hashed out a plan, involving the summoning of his broom. Harry was going to take that a little bit further by stashing his Firebolt in by the pitch the night before the first task, since he'd worked out that it took a while to call something from a long distance. He would also place his invisibility cloak with it, in case he needed a bit of help in the stealth department.

Anything else he could think of before the task would also be moved closer in advance. What could they do, after all? Kick him out of the tournament for cheating?

Harry chuckled darkly as he settled in to read some more on Legilimency.

The projective counterpart of the defensive discipline, Occlumency, Legilimency was known as a tricky and dangerous spell. It was borderline dark, Harry determined from his reading, though intent seemed to matter as much as the spell itself. Using it on a person without permission or a legal writ was considered Dark, and punishable under Wizarding Law pretty much across the planet.

Punishments varied from fines to prison time, depending on the situation, but were mostly of no relation to his current task. Dragons weren't registered as Sentients, or even Magical beings, by any member ministry of the ICW. They were, in effect, livestock.

Harry wasn't sure he agreed with that, or disagreed. He didn't know enough about them to say, quite honestly, but morally he wasn't bothered either way. He didn't intend to use the spell to harm a dragon, just hopefully talk it out of killing him if Wednesday was right about Parseltongue letting him communicate.

Idly he wondered, if it was true and he could talk to dragons… mind to mind, even if not voice to voice… then wouldn't that make them sentient? But, of course, were snakes sentient? He could talk to those.

That was a weird thought. Were snakes sentient? They seemed to be when he spoke with them, but otherwise they were by all accounts… well, animals. They didn't plan, they didn't seem to exhibit any sense of self or ability to learn… unless he spoke to them.

Harry rubbed his temple.

He was getting a wicked headache.

He pushed it away, focusing on the book. He had SO much work to do.

Hermione rubbed her eyes, yawning tiredly as she worked on her potions essay. She'd spent most of the afternoon and evening working on things for Harry, and had almost forgotten her homework in the process.

She couldn't keep her mind off of Harry's situation, though, and it was driving her nuts.

How he could possibly keep getting himself in these situations, she had no idea. Oh, she knew it wasn't any action on his part, it just seemed like Karma or Fate or something really had it in for Harry. He just tried to be like every other student in the school, but it was like he was doomed to be hauled into on insane series of events after another.

Hermione absolutely refused to refer to them as 'adventures'. They were NOT adventures. Adventures were fun, sometimes scary, and had a point to them besides survival.

For a girl who grew up on Enid Blyton, Hermione was sorely disappointed with the quality of adventures that appeared to be her lot in life since meeting Harry.

Why did Harry have to draw in the xenophobic racist stereotypes, complete with insane madman at the head of his own Stormtrooper division? Sometimes it felt like she was living in someone's warped vision of World War Two, set against a fantasy world.

Honestly, she didn't know what she would do without Wednesday and Xander to keep her sane.

Hermione winced.

Wednesday and Xander. Keeping someone, keeping HER, sane.

Oh sweet Merlin, she'd already lost her marbles.

Wednesday smiled almost invisibly as she sat in the large sofa chair that sat in the corner of the Ravenclaw common room. Her book, a half finished treatise on dark rites of the third century was propped open in her lap but she wasn't paying a great deal of attention to it.

Instead she was watching the Ravenclaw clique led by Cho Chang as they huddled in the far corner from her, occasionally staring at her with a mixture of fear and suspicion.

It amused her.

She let the fear build for a while before deciding to act, then simply closed her book with a loud snapping sound.

"Ladies." She said, looking up at them. She was, of course, using the term loosely, but her mother had always said that you were always polite. Especially to those you had no respect for. People you respected, you told the truth to. You showed your true face occasionally. Politeness existed to keep your enemies from seeing any weak spots they could exploit.

"Ladies," She said again, enjoying the shiver the single word sent through them, "May I help you?"

Cho visibly fortified herself, glaring at Wednesday. It was almost… cute, Wednesday thought briefly. Like a pet trying to stare down its master.

"You booby trapped the rooms!" Cho accused.

"I did no such thing," Wednesday countered calmly. "If I had, none of you would have survived to glare at me."

"B… but…"

Wednesday rose to her feet, "You have been warned, time and time again. I've been nice, I've been subtle. I've even been merciful, something I personally find distasteful. Now I am being an Addams."

"W… what are you talking about?"

"If you steal something, if you keep something you find that isn't yours, if you even happen to *accidentally* acquire something that belongs rightfully to another student… We'll play a game." Wednesday smiled, this time visibly as she walked toward the others. "In fact, we've been playing for some time, though you were too silly and dim to notice. Now, however, I have no time for indulgences. Nor will I abide a thief where I sleep."

"W… we're not thieves."

"Oh, really?" Wednesday lifted an eyebrow. "I suppose that hairpin is yours?"

Chang's hand went to her hair, closing on the pin in question. "I… I'm borrowing it."

"Ah…" Wednesday breathed, then smiled again. "Let's play a game. It's called 'Sharia Rules'."

"I… I've never heard of that before…" Cho stammered out.

A gasp from another corner of the room attracted their attention to where Padma Patil was looking sickly pale despite her dusky.

"P… Padma?" Cho blinked, "You've heard of it?"

Padma nodded fearfully. She wasn't part of the group that had attracted the Addams' ire, but she was deeply… wary of the girl anyway. "I… it's sacred Islamic law. Steal something… l… lo…."

"Lose your hand." Wednesday smirked, a scimitar blade appearing from behind her back as she advanced on Cho.

Cho shrieked, not even thinking of her wand, and bolted from the room. The other girls fearfully fell apart as Wednesday marched slowly after her.

"I'll return it! I'll give it back! Loony! I have your hairpin!" Cho screamed as she ran.