For the disclaimer, see Prologue.
A/N: I'd like to clarify that the opinions expressed by the character about events and other characters are not necessarily my own.
The spells used on this chapter come mostly from E. A. Underwood's "The Complete Encyclopaedia of Wizarding Charms, Hexes, Jinxes and Spells"
Chapter Three: Dos and don'ts
"Is everyone going to Transfigurations after this?" asked Zabini, studying his timetable.
"So it seems," answered Draco, spying Mirage's over its shoulder. "You surely take very few classes," he noted. "Are you planning on dropping out next year like Goyle?"
"This one cannot know yet," said Mirage over its cup of tea. "That depends on whether my Master needs me here or not."
"Blimey, sounds like there's very little you can decide on your own," commented Crabbe.
Mirage shrugged through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, nonchalant.
Nott reached out and snatched Mirage's timetable.
"What? You're not taking Herbology?"
"No," said Mirage. "This one finds it too boring for its linking."
"You're clowning," Zabini quipped. "Have you ever seen Devil's Snare? Mandrakes? Bloody Venus Mantrap?"
Draco shuddered dramatically.
Mirage chuckled.
"This one guesses 'boring' is not exactly it… it is just that other subjects as Charms and Potions feel more… immediately useful, this one thinks."
"I reckon I understand what you mean," replied Zabini. "Depending on where you work, Herbology could be accessory."
"Right," interfered Nott, raising an eyebrow. "But how will you be any good at potions without at least a basic knowledge of the plant's properties?"
"That is a fairly good point," pointed Draco. "Professor Snape will have your head if you mess up in his NEWT-level class."
Mirage smirked and said nothing.
Soon afterwards the group began walking towards the Transfigurations classroom.
"Did you manage to get all the glassware for Alchemy?" Nott asked Draco.
"Of course," he answered in a tone that implied suggesting otherwise was an offense.
"Alchemy?" queried Mirage. "This one did not know it was part of the curriculum."
"It's not," said Draco. "But NEWT-level students can request it. This year it just so happened that there was enough people interested that the Board got someone to teach it."
"I bet your father had nothing to do with it," deadpanned Nott.
Draco hmmmed haughtily.
"Is there any way I could sign in for the class?" asked Mirage.
"Wouldn't know," said Zabini.
"You should ask professor Snape," recommended Draco.
"Yeah. If anyone can intimidate people into doing things it's him," stepped in Goyle.
Everyone nodded their agreement.
Upon reaching the classroom, they all filled in and took a seat. Mirage shared Nott's desk and met with no complaints for doing so.
"It's so good Transfigurations is not double at NEWT-level," commented Zabini out loud.
"I hear you," answered Crabbe. "Damn Ravenclaws wouldn't shut the fuck up."
"Was it that bad?"
"They're just so desperate to spew all the books they've swallowed."
"Disgusting," agreed Nott.
"What is disgusting, Mr. Nott?" asked professor McGonagall, who had just entered the room through a side door near the front of the classroom.
"Bubotuber pus, professor," replied Nott without missing a bit.
Mirage lowered its head and bit its lip to keep from sniggering.
The professor did not seem amused. In fact, she seemed tempted to press the issue, but apparently decided against it.
"Welcome to your first NEWT-level Transfigurations class," she began seriously. "As this is an advanced class, I will explain this year's methodology just once. Take notes," she cleared her throat and waited for everyone to be ready to write down whatever she was about to say. "The first term will be dedicated to animal transfiguration. Spring Term will be for herbaceous transfiguration, and Summer Term we'll work on hybrid transfiguration.
"You will present two practical exams, one at midterm and one by the end of it. There will also be an investigation project, to be delivered two weeks before the holidays. Questions?"
She explained they would each be given a rat to work with, and that part of their responsibility was to ensure the animals did not die due to the transformations.
"Each death will cost your House twenty-five points," she warned.
After everyone had their rat, the rest of the class was spent customizing it so they could recognize theirs for every session.
All in all, Mirage enjoyed itself.
They had a couple of free hours before lunch and, much to Draco's dismay, Nott offered to show Mirage the way to the library, which it accepted, so it spent a good hour perusing the tomes. By lunchtime it made its way back to the Great Hall to get reunited with its classmates.
"What do we have next?" asked Crabbe.
"Double Defence with the Gryffindors," muttered Draco.
"Do you reckon we'll get a decent professor this year?"
"You're flogging a dead horse," scoffed Nott.
"To tell you the truth, I don't know why we bother taking it at all," said Malfoy.
"It's been utter shite since the werewolf."
"The werewolf?"
"We had a werewolf for Defence in our third year," explained Zabini. "Weird fella."
"He had a quarrel with professor Snape, or something," added Goyle. "And after that professor Snape began doing his damnedest to get him sacked."
"We never knew the particulars," said Crabbe. "But apparently he went feral and endangered some Hufflepuff's lives."
"How so? Was someone killed?"
"Dumbledore covered it all," said Draco disdainfully. "They said Lupin was a friend of his. Though it never made it past the gossip, and no student abandoned the school; injured, dead or otherwise. Still the werewolf left. It was the right thing to do, if you ask me."
"Wow. Sounds exciting!" said Mirage.
Nott snorted.
"Fucking stupid Gryffindors blamed professor Snape for it all," he said with a sneer.
"Why?"
"Lupin favoured them," complained Goyle resentfully.
Mirage soaked up some bread in its soup and chewed thoughtfully.
Some minutes later the group stood and headed towards the Defence classroom.
As they walked, Mirage began feeling oddly antsy.
The professor was a very tall woman with short cropped hair and a no-nonsense, almost military air to herself.
"Welcome students," she said. "My name is Harvey Slinkhard and I will be your Defence instructor.
"In light of recent developments― and don't look at me like that: everyone knows what I'm talking about― the main focus of this class will be in combat.
"It is my understanding that you've had a less than desirable instruction on the matter thus far, but don't worry, we'll go easy at first.
"Your evaluation for the course will be based on my own perspective of your abilities by the end of the year.
"Now, I want to get an idea of how skilful every one of you is, so I'll will pair you up. Those of you who have had previous combating and/or duelling experience, please raise your hands."
Mirage, Draco, Pansy and a couple of Gryffindors did.
"Good. Step forward. Now, may I know your name?" the professor asked Draco.
"Draco Malfoy," sneered Draco arrogantly.
"Mr. Malfoy, you'll encounter Mr…" she gestured towards the redhead.
"Weasley, Ronald Weasley."
"Mr. Weasley. And you are?"
"Seamus Finnigan."
"Thank you. Mr. Finnigan will go against…?"
"Mirage."
"Good. And last but not least, Miss…?"
"Parkinson."
"Miss Parkinson will fight…?"
"Neville Longbottom."
"There you go. Now, please wait for me while I pair everyone else."
She walked around the room reading a list and teaming up one Gryffindor against one Slytherin.
"Would you look at that," commented Draco while the professor was distracted with the rest of the students. "I get to tear Weasley into a thousand pieces in my first class! I have a feeling this year will be memorable."
"We'll see about that, Malfoy. There will be no nails left for you to manicure when I'm done with you."
"I'm positively frightened," Draco's voice dripped sarcasm.
Mirage eyed the Gryffindors in slight apprehension. Seamus Finnigan appeared to be an aggressive and solid opponent. In addition, he was watching Mirage with a strange mixture of disdain and disgust that did not bode well for it. Add that to the anxiety that it was already feeling and Mirage's wand hand fingers began to twitch.
"So this is the new addition to the snake's lair, isn't it?" asked Finnigan, elbowing Weasley.
"Right. What's wrong with your robes, mate? Didn't you find a place where they sold manly ones?" scorned the redhead.
Mirage looked down at its clothing and blushed without understanding why. There was no reason to feel ashamed, it told itself with eyes still downcast, it would dress however its Master wanted it to.
"I'm surprised you are familiar with the concept of buying robes, Weasel," mocked Draco. "Seeing that you've probably never worn anything previously unused in your whole life."
Ronald Weasley reddened furiously and stepped forward until he was nearly touching his nose to Draco's.
"Wrong time to try to ridicule me, Malfoy. You'll be snivelling by the time I leave this classroom."
Draco appeared unimpressed.
"Sure, Weasel."
"Just how many Unforgivables have you cast in your life?" asked Mirage, trying to return the gesture by defending Draco.
"Are you serious?" replied Weasley, aghast.
"You sicken me, freakish Slytherin scum!" spat Finnigan.
Draco smirked knowingly.
"Well?" he pushed. "How many?"
"Silence," muttered Pansy Parkinson, approaching the group discretely while the professor walked to the centre of the classroom.
"I will call on the pairs one by one," professor Slinkhard explained while drawing a wide circle around herself with her wand. "You will come and step inside this shielding ward with your assigned couple. To help me illustrate the mechanics I'll call the first of you; that is," she checked a piece of parchment. "Mr. Baxter and Miss Bulstrode, please come forth."
When the two of them were there the professor stepped out of the circle and said:
"Now, do you know the shielding charm? Protego?"
The two of them nodded.
"I will explain anyway, in case there is someone that does not.
"What you have to do is say the word Protego while slashing your wand in front of you like this," she demonstrated the motion. "Now, just a little hint: for the shield to work to its full potential, I would recommend you visualize it in your mind's eye. The clearer the image you picture in your mind, the sturdier your shield will be.
"If there is anyone that has never cast this charm, please practice before your turn comes," she turned to the two students inside the circle again. "What I expect the two of you to do is throw hexes and jinxes at each other and try to fend off your partner's with the shielding charm.
"I expect you have learned a few jinxes over the years. We'll study incapacitating spells in future classes. For now, I will ask that you don't try to seriously harm you opponent, understood?" the students nodded. "The first one that manages a definite hit will be the winner, and their House will receive two points as reward," murmurs of interest were heard. The professor smiled. "Now, my philosophy is that taking turns is no help whatsoever, as in real-life combat you do not get breaks between actual attacks. So I will count to three and you will start. Ready?
"One… Two… Three!"
Millicent and Otto both began by throwing up a shielding charm. A beat later Otto Baxter jumped to the side and shouted:
"Anserrus!"
Millicent had already raised her wand to point at Baxter, but the spell hit her square in the chest.
"HONK!" she cried, red faced. Her wand arm trembled.
The whole class erupted into laughter.
"Two points for Gryffindor," declared the professor without a hint of a smile. "Congratulations, Mr. Baxter." She waited for the laughter to die down and continued: "This was an excellent demonstration of what you must do. It was over quite fast, but the idea was clear enough." Pointing her wand at a mortified Millicent she cast Finite Incantatem. "The next pair will be..." she studied the student list again. "Miss Lavender Brown versus Mr. Vincent Crabbe. Please step inside the circle."
The two students walked to the centre of the classroom and stood facing one another, determination written all over their faces.
"Once again, on the count of three. One… Two… Three!"
This time Lavender Brown threw up a shield, but Crabbe attacked directly.
"Arretica!" he bellowed, and a net burst out of his wand.
The net fell over Brown, who tumbled backwards with an "Oof", her shield dispelling.
"Succlamo!" incanted then Crabbe.
Lavender screamed in pain.
"Stop!" called professor Slinkhard. "What do you think you're doing, Mr. Crabbe? I specifically told you ―"
"To hit our opponent with a hex or jinx," he cut her. "And that's what I did. Reckoned the net didn't count."
There was a stunned silence.
"I am fine, professor," said Brown from underneath the net, still struggling with it. "I felt no pain whatsoever, just the urge to scream."
"I take it you didn't know the jinx?" intervened Nott in a bored drawl.
"I did not," admitted the professor seriously. "Would any of you explain the effect to me?"
A bushy-haired girl from Gryffindor raised her hand.
"Succlamo, the pained scream jinx: compels the target to whine or yelp in pain. The person is subjected to no damage," she recited.
Next to itself, Mirage heard Draco Malfoy groan.
"I see," conceded professor Slinkhard. "I must apologize, Mr. Crabbe. That incantation was unknown to me. Two points for Slytherin."
"What!" someone whose voice Mirage did not recognize whispered angrily. "Points for? That must be a dark jinx!"
"Now," said the professor. "What I see here is that you deceived me: so far the two couples that have fought were formed by students that claimed not to have any duelling skills, but Mr. Baxter showed fluidity I've barely ever seen on rookies; and Mr. Crabbe attacked with a very clever net, not to mention a spell that I had never known of before. Any excuses you'd like to make?"
"Otto plays chaser in our quidditch team," offered Neville Longbottom. "He's a great flyer. Moving fast must come naturally to him."
"I just sidestepped, professor. Doesn't look like a great deal to me."
"You led me to believe I had to work with you from the very basics, I'm just pleasantly surprised," said Slinkhard thoughtfully. "Well, doesn't matter, really. It is positive, in truth.
"Now, I will make a slight change in the dynamics, for competition's sake. It is my understanding that these two Houses are usually pressing each other's buttons, correct? So I want to encourage you to show me the extent of your abilities. Once again, just try not to cause any severe damage. Use jinxes, preferably. And by the end of the class the House with the more wins will get an additional fifteen points, how's that sound?"
The next encounter was Fay Dunbar against Gregory Goyle. It was the worst so far, thought Mirage. Both were slow and sloppy, and fired their hexes like they didn't even mean to hit one another, so off-target they flew by.
Jinx after jinx after jinx collided against the protective ward and the observing student's attention began to drift off.
"Mirage," Pansy Parkinson whispered next to its ear.
"Yes?"
"I heard what you said before. Do not even think about throwing an Unforgivable, you would get in great trouble."
"Thank you for the warning," replied Mirage honestly. "But this one was not thinking of doing so."
"Good. Please don't be offended, I just wanted to make sure."
"No offense taken, Miss Parkinson," Mirage smiled.
"It's Pansy, you prat."
Over ten minutes into the duel, Goyle managed to connect a questionably-aimed Wibulus with Dunbar's left leg, thus making her drop the shield and wobble about on unsteady legs.
"Cornifors!" pronounced Goyle, seizing her moment of distraction. Not attempting to maintain a shield of his own, he succeeded in hitting Dunbar with the jet of light. A pair of horns sprouted from her head.
"Very good, Mr. Goyle," praised the professor. "Two points for Slytherin."
Goyle returned to his comrades with a goofy smile and received a few pats in the shoulder.
"The next pair is Mr. Seamus Finnigan versus Mr― I mean, Mirage," announced Slinkhard. "Please take your places."
As it walked forward, Mirage got the impression that Finnigan was not going to play fair and its forgotten restlessness came back full force.
"I'll strip you off that ridiculous dress," hissed Finnigan, too low for anyone else to hear, "and we'll see what good you are with your arse exposed for everyone to see."
Mirage pretended not to hear the threat.
"As you both confessed to having some previous experience," spoke Slinkhard. "I expect quite a showdown. Ready? One… Two… Three!"
"Vesta Evanesca!" yelled Finnigan at once.
Mirage rapidly stepped to its left and the spell passed by.
"Gelesco!" it countered without missing a bit. Finnigan raised a shield in a split second.
Mirage felt the distinctive rush of adrenaline begin coursing through its body.
"Bombarda! Bombarda! Bombarda!" it cast repeatedly, each explosion resonating powerfully against Finnigan's weakening shield. The small hairs at its nape stood and Mirage ducked instinctively.
"Stupefy!"
The spell was powerful, Mirage could tell, as it sailed above its head. Rolling to the side, it incanted:
"Everte Statum!" Finnigan's shield was again in place, but the sheer force of the spell sent him reeling backwards nonetheless.
Mirage did not expect him to recover so quickly, and as it stood from its position on the floor, Finnigan launched another Vesta Evanesca in its direction. It managed to get out of the spell's way in time not to be hit directly, but the long flowy fabric of its robe received the impact, and his clothing immediately vanished.
Finnigan was left gaping at the sight of Mirage's leather harness.
Unfazed, Mirage pointed its wand to his face.
"Epistaxus!" it cast. Finnigan dropped his wand with a yelp and moved both hands to cover his lower face. Blood streamed down his chins and between his fingers.
"Well done, Mirage," said the professor calmly. "Two points for Slytherin. Can you summon your robes or should I?"
"This one is fine, professor Slinkhard," replied Mirage coolly, flicking its wand. Catching the summoned garments it walked smoothly to its previous position amongst its dorm-mates.
The students were divided between staring and looking away as it stepped into its trouser, threw the robe on and deftly fastened them both.
Ronald Weasley was the first one to recover.
"Did you just say 'well done'?" he yelled at the professor indignantly. "I saw the bloody cheater hurt Seamus with my own eyes!"
"I suggest you watch that tone, Mr. Weasley," warned Slinkhard icily. "I know very well what we all saw and it was Mr. Finnigan trying to humiliate Mirage, or did you not notice he cast the undressing hex twice?"
"Well I don't see the bloody tosser bleeding!"
"Ten points from Gryffindor for language," said the professor. Then, pointing her wand at Finnigan (who was still clutching his bleeding nose) added: "Finite Incantatem," upon which the blood flow stopped. "Watch your tongue, Mr. Weasley. I won't tolerate any form of discrimination in my class. You are here to learn how to fight, and fight this Slytherin student did. I don't consider the hex he used a harmful one."
Weasley flushed with fury and sent Mirage a hateful glare.
Later, he mouthed.
"Bloody git," whispered Nott, placing a hand on Mirage's shoulder. "You were brilliant," he told it.
"Yeah," agreed Crabbe. "Taught the eejit a lesson, you did."
"Merlin's shoes, Mirage!" shrieked Daphne Greengrass. "Should have told us you had such a well-hidden secret!"
The girls burst out into giggles.
"This one begs your pardon?"
"That gorgeous piece of an arse!", "The tattoos!", "Did you see his thighs?" they all spoke at once and giggled again. Mirage noticed even the Gryffindor girls were giving it the look.
"Goodness' sake, women, control yourselves!" scolded the professor.
Another bout of titters was heard. Mirage looked down at its robes, puzzled.
"Is it because of the harness?" it asked Nott, who opened his mouth but shut it again uncertainly.
"The next couple will be Miss Hermione Granger versus Miss Daphne Greengrass," announced Slinkhard, sending a last reproving look in the Slytherin girls' direction.
"Later," muttered Nott, reminding Mirage of Weasley's threat.
Greengrass' combat style was too polished to be effective, Mirage noted. She held her wand delicately, as one would a fine tea cup. Her spell inventory was also quite limited, it seemed, as she kept using the babbling jinx (Ablattero), Tarantallegra and Wibulus (Jelly-legs).
Hermione Granger had a vast inventory of charms; even some Mirage had never heard before. It was not enough of a point in her favour, though. She was much too nervous, which was apparent in the white-knuckled grip she had on her wand, her rigid and unpractised stance, the sweat that was forming in her forehead and her utter lack of dodging movements.
Greengrass seemed a lot more at ease, but fought like a lady, and after three minutes or so of her waltzing around, Granger hit the side of her head with a Cantis hex. Immediately, the Slytherin girl adopted an opera pose and began singing in a soft and birdlike voice:
"Not all thou said wast true,
oh, my love, I never lied to thou!
The one who is't dead shalt remain so,
upon thy grave, loveth, I sing these verses!"
The Slytherins clapped over the professor's call of "Two points for Gryffindor" while Greengrass returned to her group walking regally.
The next contenders were Neville Longbottom and Pansy Parkinson. Pansy won so easily that Mirage wondered why he'd raised his hand to begin with. Her coup de grace was a bogies curse that had the poor chap asking for permission to withdraw to the loo.
"You may go to the Infirmary if you prefer, Mr. Longbottom," granted professor Slinkhard. "And take Miss Dunbar with you, I don't know a counter-spell for those horns."
The next fight was Eloise Midgen versus Theodore Nott.
Nott's hands were shaking, but after he had his first shield up he cast a Complectus charm to strengthen the grip he had on his wand.
Midgen's shield was sturdy and resisted every one of Nott's attacks, but her aim was poor and she had not made any noteworthy attacks.
Nott won after conjuring a snake, which made Eloise screech and turn tail. To add insult to injury, he hit her with a Pretificus Totalus the moment she tried to run away. By the time the professor stepped in to vanish the reptile and undo her immobility the girl was a nervous wreck, just on the verge of bursting to tears.
Draco Malfoy found this hilarious.
"Two points for Slytherin," declared Slinkhard. "And before anyone dares complaining, let me assure you that it was a perfectly valid strategy. Miss Midgen," she addressed her directly. "You should try to overcome that fear, as it could seriously handicap you against a real-life opponent." Then, turning to Draco she added, "If you don't cease that laughter, Mr. Malfoy, I will have to ask you to retire from my classroom."
Pansy waved her wand and muttered a word and Draco instantly sobered.
Professor Slinkhard proceeded to call Parvati Patil and Lysandra Travers to the centre of the classroom.
Patil's superior skill immediately stood out against Travers'. She held herself with a lot more confidence, was faster and magically stronger. For all her princess-like beauty, Travers could not compete with the Indian girl and was quickly reached by a Confundus charm.
The next fight was Blaise Zabini against Dean Thomas.
Thomas' first move was to throw a rapid disarming spell, but Zabini had opted for conjuring a shield so it bounced right off. Blaise kept his shield up through a series of mild hexes, and the moment Thomas' attacks became less continuous he countered:
"Emicto!" he cast, but Thomas ducked and the Pee Jinx missed him. By the time Thomas had thrown another Expelliarmus, Zabini's shield was once again in place.
There was a new round of Blaise simply defending and Thomas only attacking. The latter seemed to be losing his patience, though.
"What's up, Zabini? Can't fight like a man?"
"What about yourself?" replied Blaise from behind his shield. "Can't fight like a gent?"
"Diffindo!" shouted Thomas in response. Zabini's eyebrows raised and just a split second later his shield shattered with the sound of glass breaking and he fell back on his arse. "Expelliarmus!" Thomas added. Zabini's wand went flying from his hand and he was pushed back, his head thudding against the floor on impact.
"Ow!" he complained.
"That is quite enough, Mr. Thomas," reproached professor Slinkhard with a deep frown. "Two points for Gryffindor."
Zabini picked up his wand and walked to his dorm-mates, rubbing the back of his skull with a grimace.
"You did well," Mirage praised him.
"Thanks, mate."
"It seems it's time for the last match," said Slinkhard. "It will be between Mr. Draco Malfoy and Mr. Ronald Weasley.
"So far Slytherin is winning with five victories to four. If Mr. Weasley wins this round, I'll give each House seven points and we'll be done. Do your best, gentlemen."
Draco and Weasley stood facing one another and the hatred in their eyes did nothing to ease Mirage's edginess.
"After I curse your weasel-arse into next week remember never to mess with Mirage again, Ron," said Draco contemptuously.
"What? Defending your girlfriend?" retorted the redhead.
"Stop that, boys," warned the professor in a hard voice. "If you have a dispute this is the perfect situation to settle it. I expect a fair encounter, all things said.
"On my count: one… Two… Three!"
Draco threw a nonverbal spell so quickly it hit Weasley before his shield was up. To Mirage's observant eyes it looked as if the aiming was intentional, because the light hit Weasley's right shin so casually it could not be a real coincidence. Weasley gasped behind his shield and his ears reddened, but made no comment.
"Lacrimo!" he cast instead.
Draco easily sidestepped.
"You'll have to do better than that, Weasel," he said. "Tarantallegra!" he pointed at the Gryffindor's head, but while he raised his shield higher, Draco crouched and cast Devesto so quickly Mirage had to marvel at his incredible aim. The spell hit Weasley's unprotected elbow, and he was hauled to the side and back awkwardly while his outer robe tore itself open and went to land some five meters away from him.
Draco had a sadistic smile upon his lips that reminded Mirage of Lucius' own.
"What are you playing at, Malfoy!?" demanded Weasley, humiliated when the absence of his robe revealed the effect of the first unvoiced hex Draco had thrown at him: his trousers had become skin-tight and hugged his knees, crotch and arsecheeks snuggly.
"Adesco Membrum!" was Draco's merciless answer. Those who knew the hex gasped and Ronald Weasley cried out as his cock became instantly erect within the confines of his suffocating trousers, its outline perfectly clear for all to see. Weasley tried to cover himself with his left hand and pointed his wand at Draco, his face crazed with the many emotions that were flowing through him at the moment.
"CONFRINGO!" he shouted. Draco raised up a shield in time, but the spell hit it in the side, its force causing him to lose footing and tumble down.
"ENOUGH!" roared the professor. She Accio-ed Weasley's robe and handed it to him. "Go to the Infirmary, Mr. Weasley. Now."
With a last glower the redhead abandoned the room in stiff strides.
"The Slytherin House has won," dictated the professor over the student's murmurs. "You are dismissed. Read chapters one to three of Wizarding Tips That Could Save Your Life and I'll see you next Monday.
"Mr. Thomas, Mr. Malfoy, stay behind," she added dangerously.
The group made their exit still talking about the incident. The Gryffindors were louder in their displeasure.
"I can't believe that sadist Malfoy did that!"
"And I thought leather-boy was violent!"
"The professor is a bitch; she clearly favours those dirty Death Eaters!"
"We'll get back to you on this!" Finnigan shouted after the Slytherins. Crabbe showed him his middle finger in response.
"That was a bit harsh, right?" commented Mirage in a small voice.
"Sort of, yeah," conceded Zabini.
"He deserved it, the filthy blood-traitor," spat Pansy.
"How so?" asked Mirage.
"You've been here, what? Two days?" replied Millicent Bulstrode angrily. "You've no idea what those fuckers are capable of."
"Milly's suffered through five years of abuse," agreed Greengrass.
"He had it coming," voiced Crabbe.
"Draco did nothing to him," said Nott. "Shed his robe, tightened his trousers, made him hard? I would recover."
The rest of the group nodded their agreement. Mirage realized it had had it a lot worse in some of his sessions with Mr. Malfoy Sr. and its doubts evacuated.
"You have the truth of it," it said. "This one would easily recover."
"No doubt of that," remarked Pansy. "I would have died of shame if someone had stripped me while I wore leather underneath my robe!"
"Yeah," agreed Nott. "What in Merlin's bollocks' name are you wearing that for, though?"
Mirage shrugged like it was no big deal.
"This one likes the feel of leather against its skin. It just so happened that this one chose to wear one of its harnesses today instead of a pair of shorts."
"And isn't it too raspy on the ol' tackle?" asked Goyle in astonishment.
"Maybe, wouldn't know. This one is accustomed to the feel."
"You looked absolutely edible!" exclaimed Greengrass. "Would you let us see more?"
"Daphne, take hold of yourself!" reprimanded Travers.
"Don't play coy, Lys, I know you liked it as much as I did!"
"That's no reason to pester the poor guy!"
"It's fine, Miss Greengrass, this one can show you some other time. This one also has other leather garments… quite a few, truth be told. My Master also likes to see me parade while wearing them, so this one understands."
There were a few seconds of stunned silence and then the girls burst out into giggles.
Nott covered his face with both hands.
A/N: Let me know if you'd rather I included a list of spells and their effects at the end of the chapter so that I can do it in the future.