Author's Note: I forgot what I wanted to say. Probably just thank thee for thy fair and bonny reviews. :)


Disclaimer: I'm really not in the mood to write something amusing. So - Harry Potter is not mine.
The Founding Of Pigwarts I – Recipe For Chaos

Chapter 8: Blue Owl

"Anything else we need to decide about the school?" Harry yawned. The alcohol was all gone, Ron looked unconscious, and he was kind of sleepy as well. It seemed the best time to finally call it a night. Because, judging by the paling horizon, very soon it would not be a night at all.

"I don't think so," Hermione shrugged. "We got the name, the location, the subjects, the teachers… the Sorting Hat… oh, but we have no ghosts!"

"No Giant Squid," Harry added.

"No Peeves."

"Actually, we should be able to get Peeves back," Harry said. "I heard he is residing with Fred and George at the moment."

"No Filch."

"How awful," Draco quipped.

"Well, I kind of heard he is also residing with Fred and George."

"What? You must have heard wrong, Harry."

"No," he seemed rather confident. "I remember quite well them telling me that. After this place went down, Filch had nowhere to go, so Fred and George took him into their shop, to keep a keen eye on the customers while they are not around, and sometimes take orders and sell things as well. They get along quite well, I heard."

"Filch gets on quite well with Fred and George?"

"Yes."

"Filch?"

"Yes."

"With Fred and George."

"Yes."

"Quite well."

"Yes."

"Draco, has the word 'well' changed its meaning sometimes during this night?"

"Not that I know of. But a lot of things have changed during this night," he answered pensively.

"Yes," Harry agreed. "For example full bottles have changed into empty bottles."

"And Ron changed into a troubadour," he added after half a moment. "And then into a blacked out troubadour, which suits him a lot better. You turned into an oxymoron, and Malfoy turned out a lot nicer than I could have ever expected."

"Why am I an oxymoron?"

"You know – drunk Hermione," Harry snickered.

"Not funny," she frowned. "I have every right to get drunk whenever I feel like it."

"Of course you do," Draco reassured her, hiding his own grin.

"Of course I do," she nodded and calmed down. "What were we talking about?"

"Filch," Draco supplied.

"Oh yes, Filch," Harry continued. "Well, he isn't the same anymore. Ever since Mrs Norris left he has been a different person. Quiet. Absentminded. Pensive. Friendly. Gentle. Very un-Filchy."

"That's terrible!" Hermione exclaimed.

"I agree," Harry agreed. "I've seen many horrible things during the years of my life, but none of them was even close to Filch after he lost his cat. He's a broken man now."

"His cat died?" Draco inquired, feeling not one bit sympathetic.

"They had a fight and she ran away from him. Hasn't come back yet. As far as I know, she's with Neville right now."

"Poor Filch," Harry muttered.

"Poor cat living with Longbottom," Draco remarked under his breath.

"Perhaps a new school would cheer him up," Hermione mused. "You know, all the students to terrorize, long hallways to creep along looking for students to terrorize. Just like the old good days. And when Neville comes to teach Herbology, perhaps Filch and Mrs Norris will make it up."

"And live happily ever after," Draco commented sarcastically. But it was dark, and nobody noticed the sarcasm.

"Exactly."

"What colour is a badger?" Harry queried suddenly.

"Black and white. Why?"

"I don't know why they're black and white. You're the smart one here, you tell me."

"Because they want to play zebras?" she guessed. "I mean, why did you ask it?"

"Oh. Well, you see," Harry explained.

"No, I don't see. It's still too dark."

"Well, OK, you don't see then. But I'll tell you. Hufflepuff colours were yellow and black, and their animal, badger, is black and white. So the colour black links them. But Weasley colours are yellow and brown, and nothing links them to a badger. So he needs a new animal."

"Weasel?"

"Sunflower?"

"A bee, then," Harry concluded.

"Does this mean we can get new animals as well?" Hermione asked with enthusiasm.

"If you like."

"Ooh! Ooh! I know! I know!"

"Yes, owl?"

"How did you guess?" Hermione asked with a pout.

"Guessed what?"

"That I want my animal be an owl."

"Let's just say it suits you," Draco drawled.

"Because I'm smart like an owl?" she smiled at him.

"Of course."

"But owls aren't blue," Harry argued. "Only when you throw them into a paint pot."

"Or when you cross an owl with a bluebird."

"If I want a blue owl, I'll find myself a blue owl," Hermione glared at the boys. "Now, what's your choice, Harry?"

"A phoenix," he said dreamily.

"Good choice," she approved. "So we got a bee, an owl, and a phoenix. Draco?"

"I'm very happy with a snake."

"And a dragonfly," Hermione added.

"What? Why do I have to be a bug?"

"So is Ron."

"Not a consolation. You got an owl. You eat us for breakfast."

She sent him a sly and disturbingly seductive smile.

"Fine," Draco agreed grudgingly. "But don't expect me to like it."

"Would you two please stop that," Harry begged tiredly.

"Stop what?"

"Stop looking at each other like this. It's… disturbing."

"If you don't like it, Potter, don't look."

"No, I better look," Harry said. "I don't even want to know what happens when I turn my head away."

"And as long as you don't look back, you won't find out what happens."

Harry grimaced at that. And then yawned. So did everybody else, except Ron who was already snoring.

"Time to get our beauty sleep, I suppose," he commented, and still keeping an eye on Draco and Hermione, lowered himself to the ground, which was still oddly warm.

"You don't need sleep to be beautiful," he whispered into her ear.

"Neither do you," she whispered back.

"But Potter does."

"Yes, and it seems he is reluctant to fall asleep before we do. Really, it's like he didn't trust us."

"Why on earth should he not trust us?" Draco grinned devilishly.

"His suspicious nature, I suppose."

"Yes, I reckon that."

"Good night, Draco."

"Good night, Hermione."

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"Can you take the recording spell off?"

"Sure. What's the incantation?"

"Lõpeta kirjutamine."

"Hermione? I need a wand."

But as she had already fallen asleep, and was holding his wand in an iron grip, Draco took hers instead, after making sure that Potter was out as well and not sending him an evil glare.

"Sweet dreams, love," he murmured and ended the spell.


A/N: One more chapter to go.

Lõpeta kirjutamine - Finish writing

If anyone cares where I got the idea of Filch living with Fred & George, then it's inspired by phantomduck's "Surviving the Weasley Twins" (link in my profile).

Give the poor little ill girl a REVIEW. Really, I'm ill. (Not too poor and not quite little, though.) Nothing serious, just a head cold, but it's still making me feel like crap. And my nose hurts.