Frisk awoke early the next morning, rolling out of bed. She still felt uncomfortable about what happened to Opal yesterday. But she had both of her new classes, so at least there was that to look forward to. Frisk pulled on her robes, and took up her school bag, and headed down to the common room with a loud and long yawn.

There were only a few people still in the common room, clustered around the notice board. Frisk slipped behind them, looking for any new notices, and spotted one.

There was to be open tryouts for the Gryffindor quidditch team. She had a funny feeling Dumbledore had said something about that at the opening feast, and her mind had glossed over it in the wake of Prof. Umbridge's 'speech'.

"Are you going to try out?" asked Ginny from behind her, the sudden noise causing Frisk to jump.

"No," Frisk said, turning around, and smiling slightly at the grinning older student. "Not a chance, I don't even like quidditch that much, you know that. Chara and Asriel might, though. Why is there an open position, anyway?" she asked, as they both turned toward the portrait hole.

"Oliver Wood graduated two years ago. We won the cup that year, remember?"

Oh, right. Frisk remembered the celebration afterward, when Hermione had the row with the others. Though it did feel kind of strange to hear Ginny say 'we', like she was on the team herself. "Because the quidditch cup was canceled last year, they only now have to fill his position," her friend explained.

"Ah," Frisk said. She tried to remember which position that was, Ginny's brothers were the beaters, and Harry Potter was the seeker, so that left... "One of the three that toss the quaffle," Her mind raced, trying to remember the name. "Uhm, Chaser?" she guessed.

"Keeper," Ginny corrected. "Goal-Keeper."

"Oh," Frisk said, "Right. What about you, are you going to try?"

"I'd like to, but I'm not good at playing keeper. I'd much rather play chaser, or even seeker, though I don't think Harry would give up his spot on the team for me."

"Not after what if he went through yesterday, especially," Frisk said. The rumor that he'd 'Gone mental' on Professor Umbridge had come from enough different sources that she'd accepted it as pretty much a fact.

They climbed down the Grand Stairwell to breakfast, where Frisk found her siblings discussing the notice, each trying to psych the other up to try out. "I think you should both do it," she told them, sitting down to a small plate of eggs and toast. "Asriel? Didn't you help Ron with goalkeeping during Dumbledore's challenge last year?"

"I did, against self propelled quaffles. That was something. I wonder if defending against players would be easier or harder." Asriel said. "But I'm only in my second year," Asriel said. "I've barely had the chance to get up on my own broom."

"You don't have that much to lose. If you're beaten out by someone older, you'll still have a chance to prove yourself and they'll know you're interested for the next time."

"A monster on the Gryffindor quidditch team, that would be something. We should go out and practice tonight, then. Frisk?" She looked around, and spotted Ginny sitting a few seats up the table. "Would you be willing to come help Asriel practice at quidditch this afternoon?"

Ginny looked at them, then up the table at her brother Ron. She then looked back at them and flashed them a quick thumbs up. "Well, there you go," Chara said. Asriel's eyes were wide, not looking comfortable with the situation. The bell rang, alerting that they had five minutes before class. "See you at lunch," Chara said. "Come on Azzy. It'll be okay."

Frisk had Charms that morning, so she climbed the grand stairwell up two flights. She turned to her right down a corridor, and into the classroom. She picked a seat, nodded to Laura as the taller girl sat down next to her, and waited for the professor to begin his class.

While Frisk liked most of her teachers (the living ones, anyway), Prof. Flitwick was one of her favorites, she'd always found his cheerful attitude to be infectious. "For our first class this term," he began, standing behind his desk (though this made him only eye level with his students), we will cover Finite, the dispelling charm. While nearly every spell has a specific counterspell, there are times you might know what that is, because you don't know the spell that was used. Or maybe you need to cover a wider area, because your muggle neighbors are coming over, and you need to make your home presentable. That is where finite comes in very useful."
The professor took a breath, and looked the class over. "It's a simple incantation, but it can vary in power depending on how deliberately or forcefully you do it." He demonstrated the motion; the pattern of the wand resembled an 'x' with a second downward stroke connecting the two diagonals. The professor moved the wand with such speed that Frisk could feel the small wave of power come from it even three rows back.

He had them repeat the spell a few times as a group, judging their tone and their wand movements, before taking a box from his desk. He walked out among the students, and at each desk, he dropped a couple of mundane objects, from apples to small plastic toys. "Now, pair up, and I would like you to take turns putting minor enchantments - Tarantallegra is a personal favorite of mine, as you know – and dispelling it."

Frisk let Laura try the spell first. She put the dancing feet charm on a small doll's chair, sending it tapping towards her classmate. It took Laura three tries to get the charm right, by which time it was precariously close to dancing over the edge.

"That was harder than I thought," Laura told her. A crash from the other side of the room suggested she wasn't the only one who thought that way. She took a deep breath, and sent the toy back toward Frisk.

Frisk gave the dancing toy a hard look. She made the three strokes, trying hard to keep that center one straight. "Finite!"

Nothing happened.

Laura raised one single eyebrow. "See?"

Undaunted, Frisk stood, to give herself more room, and gave it another cast. On the third cast, she got enough energy through her wand to stop the chair in its tracks. She sat back in the chair and wiped her brow. "He made it look so easy," Frisk told her classmate.

"I've had many years of practice," Professor Flitwick told her, causing both girls to turn in surprise. He was smiling. "But that is an excellent first series of attempts. Do keep it up."

"So how was Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy?" Asriel asked as his siblings, as well as Ginny and Luna, headed down the path to the Quidditch pitch. It was an attempt at distraction. The early September afternoon was warm, thought a light breeze kept it from being hot.

"They were okay," Frisk reported. "I was hoping Arithmancy was going to be something about creating magical items. I really want to find something to help monsters blend into Muggle society. But it seems more related to numbers. At least there was math, which would make Mom happy."

They walked to the broom closet, retrieving their brooms. "Nimbus two thousand and ones?" Ginny said, sounding a touch envious. "I'd love to get a new broom. I know Harry Potter really liked his Nimbus 2000."

"But I remember when he came in with his new Firebolt at the end," Frisk said, one eyebrow raised. "He treated it as if it was made of gold."

"Well, sure!" Ginny said. "Have you seen what that can do? I mean, it can accelerate so fast..."

"It doesn't matter," Frisk said hurriedly, cutting her off from her gushing. "Are you ready, Asriel?"

No, he wasn't. He didn't really want to be out here. He felt the butterflies in his stomach, and they were helping him think of a thousand reasons why he shouldn't be practicing for this. He was too young. He was about to be a monster playing a wizard sport. He wasn't going to be good at this.

But what actually came out his mouth was, "Yes, I am." They took to their brooms, with the team of Frisk, Chara, and Ginny tossing around a quaffle while Asriel took his position, guarding the three goals at the end of the pitch.

The girls started with direct tosses at a short distance. Frisk and Chara were easy to defend against, Chara being about as inexperienced as Asriel on the broom, and Frisk just wasn't an expert flier. Ginny, on the other hand, had done this before, and she was quite good at it, keeping Asriel guessing which of the three scoring posts she was actually aiming for. In fact, Asriel was pretty sure she scored more than he saved.

"I think Asriel's getting the hang of this," Ginny said. "We should try this in an attack formation." Asriel just gave her a hard look back. He didn't feel like he was getting the hang of it at all.

"What do you mean?" Frisk asked.

"Up until now, we've just been sitting in place throwing the quaffle. But in a real game situation, we'd be trying to avoid bludgers and the opposing chasers, throwing the ball back and forth while charging toward the opposing goal."

"Oh, sure," Chara said, nodding. "I get it. A game situation. Let's try it."

They flew away from him, a bit more than halfway into the other side of the pitch. Asriel watched them, gripping his broom, positioning himself in front of the center goal. Chara passed the quaffle to Ginny, who slung the ball towards Asriel's left.

Asriel was slightly out of position, but his reactions were on the money, he managed to scrape his fingers along the edge of the leather quaffle, but he didn't force it far enough to the side to prevent it from tickling the edge of the goal hoop and just bouncing through.

"That's okay," Frisk told him. "You can't be perfect on the first go. Would you get the ball and we'll give it another swing?"

Asriel swooped down, picking up the quaffle in passing, and threw it back up to his sister. They repeated the exercise about thirty or forty more times before the dinner bell rang. Asriel still thought he'd let through more than he'd blocked, but he was getting better, blocking three of the last four, even one that Ginny had outright fired.

"That last one was pretty good!" Ginny told him as they walked into the great hall. "I'm not sure you're team material yet, though. Look, don't worry. Even professional keepers can't save every goal. There are occasions where the snitch is caught just to keep the score from getting worse. Like at the World Cup last year."

"Thanks," Asriel said. He meant it, feeling satisfied, if exhausted. His fur was damp and beginning to mat from the exertion, and he was pretty sure he wasn't the only one feeling winded. He wiped the sweat from his nose. "That does make me feel a bit better. Can we do this again tomorrow?"

"Sure," Ginny said. "As long as I don't let homework pile up tonight," she amended.

They sat down together at the Gryffindor table, but hadn't had the chance to set into dinner at all when Frisk's friend Opal had collapsed into the seat behind them with a loud frustrated noise. "Are you okay, Opal?" Asriel asked.

"No," was her straightforward reply, "I'm not."

There was something in that tone that really got Asriel's attention. He looked over his shoulder to look at Opal directly, but she'd already turned back to her own table. "Opal," said Frisk, "What did you have to do for your detention?"

"Lines."

"That can't be all of it," Frisk said. "Opal..."

Opal ignored her, and not just her, but several people at her own table were also trying to get Opal's attention, and Opal was having none of it. Just as he was about to turn back to his own food, Asriel noticed something odd. "Frisk?" he said quietly, nudging his sister.

Frisk looked up at him, a hurt expression on her face. "Is Opal left handed?" he asked softly, so Opal couldn't hear.

The question took Frisk by surprise, and she had to think about it for a second before shaking her head. "No, she isn't," she finally said.

"What's up?" asked Chara. "Why is that..."

"Because she's eating with her left. She's got her right hand curled up."

Frisk looked at Asriel, then at Ginny. "Let's catch her after dinner. I don't want her to hide whatever's going on."

Ginny nodded, and Frisk and her siblings began to eat. They ate quickly and without conversation, as they didn't want to miss the opportunity to get to the bottom of Opal's behavior. When Opal had finished eating, she took off, almost immediately. Ginny and Chara were up right after her, and Asriel and Frisk not far behind them.

To Asriel's surprise, Opal didn't make for the stairwell, however, but headed out the main door. "Oh, please don't say she's going for a run," he whispered.

She was.

Usually, on those weekend days last year before flying practice, Opal would jog. Which meant everyone else would be lightly running. Tonight, though, she was going full out, that probably meant that people wouldn't be able to keep up with her if they were fresh. And they they'd just spent an hour or so on the quidditch pitch, not exactly well rested. Asriel was forced to give up, panting heavily, about a fourth of the way around the castle. After a minute or two catching his breath, Asriel decided to go back to the door, just in case.

Opal came back around, her fists clenched. She looked at Asriel, and Asriel gave her a nervous smile back. "Frisk wants to be there for you," Asriel said. "Please let her?"

Opal closed her eyes and took a deep breath, looking a little deflated. "Alright."

It took several minutes for Frisk and Ginny to stumble into view, both of them gasping for breath. Neither of them actually collapsed from exhaustion, but they both doubled over, causing Opal to blush pretty heavily herself.

"Can," Frisk managed to eek out. "Can we go back to the Great Hall now?"

The great hall was beginning to empty out, but there were still plenty of people looking quizzically as they sat back down at the Gryffindor table, even Opal. "So," Frisk said as everyone else caught their breath. "What made you so angry."

Opal looked at them for a moment, then she opened her hand, and held her right palm out for them to see. Asriel felt his eyes going wide. There were words etched into the palm of her hand, "I must not backtalk to my professor." The lines were cut deep into the skin, and Asriel could see small trickles of blood dripping from them.

"You said she had you write lines..." Chara said, with anger overtaking her horror. "Did you write them...?"

"In my own blood," Opal confirmed.

Frisk stood wordlessly, pulling at Opal, motioning her from the great hall.

Opal resisted. "I'm not going to let this woman thinks she's getting the better of me!"

"How many other people are going to say that?" Frisk asked, peering at Opal through half-lidded eyes. "How many people are going to suffer in silence before someone stands up to her? But... that's not where we're going. That's an open wound, and it could get infected. We're going to the hospital wing." Frisk's tone was reminiscent of Madam Pomfrey, quiet but determined.

"Oh," Opal said, now sounding alarmed. "I'm sorry," and she let herself be led out of the Great Hall.

Asriel didn't need to guess what Madam Pomfrey's reaction was going to be. When the group – all six of them – poured into the hospital wing. she was confused. When she saw the words cut into Opal's hand, she was horrified. Asriel was temporarily deafened by the shout of rage, which he suspected could have been heard up in the Gryffindor common room.

"This... this is her idea of detention?" Madam Pomfrey asked. Asriel and now her voice was shaking in rage. He'd never heard her like this, and from the way Frisk was stepping back, he guessed she hadn't either. "Injuring the students? I thought what happened to Mr. Malfoy last year... and she doesn't have the excuse of." She shook her head. She clapped her hands twice, and with a crack a house-elf materialized in front of them. Madam Pomfrey wasted no time on pleasantries, asking the Elf to go find the headmaster and bring him to the hospital wing.

The elf nodded once, and disappeared with another crack.

"Now, while we wait for Dumbledore," Madam Pomfrey said, "Frisk, can you find some Murtlap essence in the supply cabinet, please?"

Frisk nodded, and disappeared into the small closet. She emerged with a large glass jar containing a yellowish-brine, with large dark tentacles floating inside. "I have it."

"Excellent. Bring it over here. It needs to be diluted before we can use it." From a separate cupboard, Madam Pomfrey retrieved a large wooden bowl and a measuring cup. She filled the cup with water three times, pouring it into the bowl. Then, opening the jar Frisk held up to her, she filled the cup one more time, making sure to get a few tentacles, and poured it in with the water. She stirred it aggressively, and when it was done, set it on a small table. "Come here, Ms. Oxtoby, and put your hand in this."

Opal looked at the mixture apprehensively, but didn't actually need to be told twice. The look of relief as she fully submerged her hand told everyone how effective it was. "This will sanitize the wound," Madam Pomfrey explained, "and..." she was interrupted by a polite knocking at the door.

A moment later, the headmaster walked into the room, making eye contact and nodding to each of them. "Good evening, Madam Pomfrey," he said. "How can I help you?"

Madam Pomfrey, in turn, gestured to Opal. Opal, with some embarrassment, told the full story of how she stood up to Ms. Umbridge in her first Defense class, was sentenced to detention, and her use of the horrible blood using quill. The headmaster took it all in, his eyes flashing dangerously at the end.

"I know, technically, the use of corporal punishment is still legal," Madam Pomfrey said, "But there has to be something you can do about this!"

"Still legal?" Asriel asked. That was something of a shock.

"It is why Mr. Filch is allowed to still maintain the old 'chains'," the headmaster explained. "I have tried, for years, to convince both the Wizengamot and the Board of Governors into finally outlawing the practice, but enough of them pine for 'The Good Old Days' that I have never actually managed it. With that said, I have banned the practice while I am headmaster." He stopped, considering something for a second. "I shall confiscate that quill of hers first thing in the morning," he promised. "However, it is very possible that as soon as the Minister hears what I have done, he will order me to return it. But I will do what I can." He turned his piercing gaze to Opal. "And I shall make it clear that if she takes it out on you, Opal, for reporting her, she will have a serious problem on her hands. Can I trust you will be honest about that to me?"

Opal looked shocked, but nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good! Now, I believe the rest of you belong in your common room, it is just about curfew. Though I understand if you would like to teach Ms. Frisk more about Murtlap essence," he said, winking. "Have a more pleasant evening."

The instruction had been polite, but it still was a reminder of the rules. "Good night Opal. See you in the common room, Frisk." And Asriel, with Chara and Ginny alongside him, headed back upstairs.