"Up!" Maisie said impatiently. "Up!" The broom stayed stubbornly on the floor. "UP!"
It had taken a week for Maisie to find an opportunity to 'forget' to return her broom to the shed after Madam Weasley's Quidditch coaching. Mike, Colin and Maisie had sneaked past the stone guardian again, so breathless with excitement the Solution to Hiccoughs had probably been unnecessary. Their anticipation, however, was rapidly turning to disappointment.
"Maybe they don't work indoors," Mike suggested.
"Then why are there rules against flying in the corridors? UP!"
"Maybe school brooms don't work indoors."
"I bet it's an Anti-Flying Jinx, like the Anti-Disapparition Jinx on Hogwarts," Colin said. "Mike, can you lift the broom with Wingardium?"
Mike took out his wand, and tried it. The broom obediently lifted a few inches off the ground.
"If I get on, can you raise it up to the lever?" Maisie asked.
"Maybe," Mike said, "but maybe not, and it's a long way to fall. Besides, I'll need to be pulling down one of the levers down here, won't I? And you'll be out of sight most of the way up, if I'm standing over here."
"If I pull down one of the levers, and you fly yourself? Or … fly it up there and poke the lever with it?"
Mike snorted. "Maisie, I can try, but I don't like my chances of manoeuvring something that big into hitting a target that small from all the way down here."
She sighed. "If I was better at levitation, I bet I could do it."
"There's your answer then," Mike said a bit stiffly. "Practice your levitation charm."
"Oh, don't be like that," Maisie said impatiently. "I just mean it's not much smaller than a Bludger heading for your Chaser when they're at the other end of the pitch, and I'm used to spotting those."
"It's a pity we're not allowed our own Quidditch gear," Colin said. "Or you could bring a Bludger and a bat up here and hit it that way."
Mike grinned. "Can you imagine what going for a walk would be like with every aspiring player letting Bludgers and Snitches loose for practice?"
"Eventful," Maisie said. "And probably brief." She tilted her head back, squinting. "Pull the levers again, will you? I want to see something."
Colin and Mike obediently trotted over to the walls, counted three, and yanked the levers down. Maisie stared upwards with narrowed eyes. "You know, I think I could hit that."
Mike released his lever, and stone rumbled overhead. "And get expelled for having a Bludger and a bat."
She grinned. "Oh, I won't be expelled." Colin sighed, and waited to hear what mad plot she was about to propose they all undertake. "You see, when I was reading the school rules, I noticed something."
"That you don't expelled for having a Bludger, just given detention every Saturday until graduation?" Colin asked.
"Oh, no, they'll expel you over a Bludger, probably because otherwise everyone would do it regardless of the detentions," Maisie said. "No, what I noticed is … there's absolutely no rules at all about non-magic sports."
"So?" Mike asked.
"So," Maisie said, picking up the broom, "let's go back downstairs, and let me tell you all about a Muggle sport called 'cricket'."
It wasn't, for once, the maddest idea Colin had ever heard, once he'd grasped the fact that a cricket ball was basically a smaller Bludger with no magic. For the first time in weeks, he went to bed without the nagging worry he'd wake up to news of his expulsion.
Then he thought unless Filch catches us on the way to the fifth floor … or Professor Granger realises her supplies are lower than they should be … or someone works out where the Boggart came from …
Groaning, he pulled his pillow over his head.
The next day was remarkably, blissfully, uneventful. In Transfiguration, Colin for once managed to produce a snuffbox that didn't have whiskers. Mike was the only one in their Charms class whose Revealing Charm worked, which earned the rest of them an extra essay, but that was such a normal state of affairs Colin couldn't even be annoyed by it. For once, Herbology involved something with neither teeth, fangs, or razor sharp tendrils, and the day ended with a peaceful Potions class involving nothing more dangerous than Flobberworm dissection.
He bolted his dinner, hurried back to the Hufflepuff Common Room, and gathered up the stack of board games the Prefects had allowed him to borrow in the evenings, so long as he didn't keep them for more than an hour. An hour with Moaning Myrtle being more than enough, that was no hardship, and at the end of the hour the stricture gave him a perfect excuse to escape from her without prompting another round of wailing.
He was on his way back downstairs when he ran into Mike.
"Give you a hand with those?" Mike said.
Gratefully, Colin handed over half. "Thanks."
"How's it going, your project? Is she cheering up at all?"
Colin sighed. "No. I think you're right — although she does enjoy it when she wins. Not very nicely, though. She's always going on about how she didn't have any friends when she was alive, and honestly, I wonder if she's the way she is because she didn't have any friends or if she didn't have any friends because of what she's like."
Mike laughed. "Well, no-one can say you're not a true Hufflepuff — setting out to be nice to the most unpleasant ghost Hogwarts has to offer."
"Peeves still has her beat."
"Not a ghost," Mike reminded him.
"Well, he's bloody see-through and goes through walls, he's a ghost enough as far as I'm concerned."
"And I can see that cutting a lot of ice with your boss if you ever become an Auror," Mike said. "Honestly, Colin, you do well enough in most of our classes, but when it comes to Defence Against the Dark Arts it's like you're only listening half the time."
Colin was uncomfortably aware that was a little close to the mark. It was the class he most wanted to excel in, and he had no trouble doing the reading, or with the essays, but when Professor Potter started explaining the intricacies of this creature or that jinx, Colin all-too-often found his mind wandering to thoughts of facing that creature or defending against this jinx — always with such great skill and bravery that Professor Potter immediately recruited him for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the youngest Auror in history. And then, replacing Professor Weasley as Harry Potter's partner —
"Mind out!" Mike said sharply.
And a second too late. Lost in his daydream, Colin stepped straight onto one of the trick steps the staircases of Hogwarts sported. His right leg went straight through it, the board games cascaded from his arms, and he landed hard, left leg twisted beneath him.
"Are you alright?" Mike asked.
"Get the games," Colin said, rather than no. "I borrowed them from the Hufflepuff Common Room — if I lose any pieces, the Prefects will kill me."
Mike nodded, set down the boxes he was carrying, and started scrambling up and down the stairs, gathering up the different pieces. It was a task made more difficult by the fact that the snakes from Snakes and Ladders were trying to make off in the direction of the nearest window and the black king and the white king from the chess set had fallen face to face and were busily trying to strangle each other while simultaneously roaring instructions to their troops.
Colin managed to roll over onto the step above the trick step, and pull his leg up. It was unharmed, but when he tried to get up pain stabbed through his right ankle.
"Are you alright?" Mike asked again, kneeling beside him.
Colin shook his head. "I think I broke my leg. Or sprained it, at least."
"We'd better go to Madam Pomfrey. Can you get up?"
"If I could get up, do you think I'd be sitting here saying 'I think I broke my leg'?" Colin snapped.
"If I help you, I mean."
"Now then, what's happened here?" Professor Longbottom said behind them.
Terrific. Just terrific. Professor Longbottom had performed the second most heroic act in the entire Wizarding War, and here he was, witness to the fact that Colin couldn't walk down a flight of stairs without hurting himself. The only person Colin wanted to see less at that moment than Professor Longbottom was —
"You right there, Aitkins?" Professor Potter said.
"He fell through the trick step," Mike said.
"I've done that," Professor Potter said. He knelt down beside Mike, while Professor Longbottom loomed over them. "I asked Dumbledore once why staircases that can cripple the unwary were ever considered a good idea in a school." Taking Colin's ankle in his hands, he felt it carefully. "He said it was because witches and wizards needed to learn to be wary, and because Madam Pomfrey needed something to do between Quidditch matches. It's not broken, Aitkins, just a nasty sprain." He took out his wand. "Trust me to deal with it?"
Colin stared at him, trying to get his head around the fact that Professor Potter had once made the exact same idiotic mistake he had. Finally, he remembered to nod.
"Good lad," Professor Potter said. He took out his wand. "Episkey!"
The pain faded. Colin wriggled his ankle cautiously, but it didn't return. "That's a useful spell."
Professor Potter grinned at him. "Isn't it just. Up you get." He put a hand under Colin's arm and hoisted him easily to his feet. "What are you doing with all these board games, anyway? Is there some House competition I'm not aware of?"
"Um." Colin gulped. It was a stupid idea that he'd never have had if he'd been paying proper attention in Professor Potter's class, and now he had to admit to it. Face flaming, he hung his head and muttered, "Playing games with Myrtle."
Professor Potter's eyebrows went up. "Myrtle, as in, Moaning Myrtle? You're sitting in a haunted, half-flooded bathroom playing Snakes and Ladders with a ghost?"
Colin nodded. "I thought it might cheer her up a bit," he said, and then hastily added, "Of course I know it can't really, because she's a ghost, because of what ghosts are like. It's just, she seemed, you know. Really lonely."
"How does she move the pieces?" Professor Longbottom asked.
"She doesn't. She tells me what move to make, and I make it."
"And roll the dice?" Professor Potter sounded genuinely interested.
"Well, she can splash water around, a bit. So I put the dice in a sink full of water and we roll them by stirring."
"That's brilliant, Aitkins," Professor Potter said. "I bet she loves having someone new to complain to."
"She does," Colin said with feeling, and both teachers laughed. "Sir, I have to get these back to the Common Room."
"Run along, then," Professor Potter said. "Mind the steps on your way."
"Yes sir," Colin said, and he and Mike fled downward.
They'd gone two flights before Mike stopped on a landing. "We should have asked him."
"Asked him what?"
"About cricket, if it's really allowed. Or if it's one of those things that would be banned if only wizards knew about it, and that will get us all expelled."
Colin hesitated. "I have to get these back …"
"It'll take two minutes, Colin, come on, and it might save us a lifetime as practically Squibs."
"Alright." Colin set the boxes of games he was carrying down in the nearest doorway. "If it takes two minutes."
They ran back up. As they got closer, Colin could hear Professor Potter's voice. "No great harm done," he said, "but it would have been a slow and painful trip to the Hospital Wing for the boy, so I'm glad you found us."
There was a disdainful sniff, and then a deep and flexible baritone voice said, "The pain and trouble might have taught him to watch where he steps, but Granger would be even more unbearable with an unnecessary delay in her project."
As both Professor Longbottom and Professor Potter laughed, Mike grabbed Colin's arm, hard enough to hurt. "That's him!" he hissed.
"Who?" Colin whispered, not entirely sure why they were whispering.
"The teaching assistant! I recognise his voice." He tugged Colin upwards. "Come on! Stay low."
They crept further up the staircase, stopping just before the landing to peer over the top step.
In the shadowy hallway beyond the landing, Colin could see Professor Potter and Professor Longbottom, and facing them, his back to the staircase, a tall, lean man dressed entirely in black. His long coat was black, his trousers and boots were black, even his hair was black, long and straight and falling just past his collar. He stood very upright, thin shoulders sharp beneath his coat, and although he was almost the same height as Professor Longbottom he somehow managed to give the impression he was looking down at him.
"She has told me of your conclusions," the deep voice said. "I remain doubtful of their accuracy, but I have agreed — as a contingency — to explore the possibility."
"I'm quite sure of them, myself," Professor Potter said. He didn't seem the slightest bit intimidated, which Colin thought was about as impressive as anything else Professor Potter had done in his life, including facing Voldemort. The way the man in black's voice bit off some words and drew others out sibilantly was inherently menacing, the set of his head and the stiffness of his stance made it clear he was glaring at the two teachers.
"If you are right, Potter, then I will be in your debt. If you are wrong, then you can notch another Death Eater on your belt."
Colin had to cram both hands over his mouth to stifle a gasp. Death Eater? Professor Granger's teaching assistant is a Death Eater? He looked at Mike, whose eyes were as wide as Colin's own.
"No, why would I let a little thing like twenty years' loyal service to the Order of the Phoenix stop me from dancing on your grave?" Professor Potter shot back.
"You can dance, Potter?" The sentence was drawled contemptuously. "Your performance at the Yule Ball suggested otherwise."
"You're as bad as Ginny," Professor Potter said, but he was smiling. "I don't know why I even try, with either of you."
"Given your record in my classes, might I suggest that the inability to learn a lesson when it's presented to you on a silver platter is the reason?"
Professor Longbottom guffawed. "Give up, Harry."
"Yes, I'll quit while I'm behind," Professor Potter said. "We should get on with our rounds, anyway, Neville."
"A moment of your time," the teaching assistant said. "Longbottom."
"Go on, Harry, I'll catch you up," Professor Longbottom said.
Professor Potter clapped Professor Longbottom on the shoulder, and started towards the staircase.
Colin stared in Mike at horror, and then, as one, they turned and fled headlong down the stairs, not stopping until they were two floors down and gathering up the boxes of games.
"A Death Eater," Colin said, voice shaking. "A Death Eater."
"Professor Potter said the Order of the Phoenix, too," Mike reminded him.
"That's completely mad, that is. A Death Eater in the Order of the Phoenix. The Order of the Phoenix was about stopping the Death Eaters, wasn't it? That was the whole point! The only Death Eater in the Order of the Phoenix was Professor Dumbledore's spy, Severus Snape."
"Maybe that was him," Mike suggested.
Colin sighed. "Honestly, Mike. Haven't you ever read Hogwarts: A History? That can't be him. Severus Snape died at the Battle of Hogwarts." He stacked the box of Snakes and Ladders on top of Broomstick Bingo. "Come on. We're going to be late back."
"Maybe it was his ghost," Mike said, following him towards the stairs to the dungeon. "No, he wasn't see-through. His Inferius?"
"Inferi don't talk. They just sort of growl and lunge." That was in the D.A.D.A textbook, but they hadn't covered them in class yet, so Colin had the pleasant experience of, for once, knowing more than Mike about what was, after all, his own favourite subject.
"Then it was a joke," Mike said. "Professor Granger did say he had an odd sense of humour, her teaching assistant."
"Pretty bloody odd, to say you're a Death Eater, don't you think?"
Mike shrugged. "Odder than teaching a class Polyjuiced as someone else? Or teaching me to brew a potion while invisible?"
"Alright, those are both odd, yes," Colin conceded. "So maybe it was a joke."
They reached door to the Hufflepuff common room and Mike piled the boxes he was carrying on top of the stack in Colin's arms. "Well, what else could it be?"
.
.
.
Author's note: The 'no private Bludgers' rule is not canon.
Hermione was right: Snape really is a terrible recluse.