ZA: So I've noticed that perhaps I've made things a little too hard for you. I just wanted to challenge you a little.

Crispy: You're referring to the Hilmar reference?

ZA: Yes. I did put clues in my profile, in case anyone would like to try again.

Crispy: Meanwhile, who's turn is it this chapter?

ZA: Check the schedule.

Crispy: Oh, right! It's here somewhere...I think...oh no. It got a bit wet, and the ink washed out. Oops.

ZA: Yeah, that's not good.

Crispy: Wait. I think this says...Sal...Moody...and Hilmar...yep. That's what's missing. Give me a pen.

ZA: Hannah Abbott! Disclaimer!

Hannah: …

ZA: Please?

Hannah: Zsugami Alba does not own Harry Potter. Or any songs by Queen. Or The Rainmakers.

Chapter 15: Midterms, Part One

Since Draco had acquired his new bicycle and developed an appreciation for muggle music, he'd found that not everyone shared his love of classic rock. More specifically, Hannah Abbott. It all began during his first week of bicycle bliss.

"Aaaare you gonna take me home tonight?

Ahhhh down beside that red firelight

Aaaare you gonna let it all hang out?

Fat bottomed girls

You make th-"

BAM! Something large and solid hit Draco square in the face as he coasted down the charms corridor, knocking him and his bicycle into the wall. Draco shook his head to clear his vision of the circling stars and birdies and looked up to see a very disgruntled Hannah Abbott glaring at him. "What was that for?" Draco asked.

"Hmph!" replied Hannah, turning on her heel and marching away. She casually summoned her copy of A History of Magic from over her shoulder, not noticing it whap Draco in the back of the head as it sailed back to her.


"Bicycle races are coming your way!

So forget all your duties, oh yeah!

Fat Bottomed Girls wi-"

BAM! CRASH! "Ow."


"Mama Mama Mama, keep your skinny girls at home

'Cause this skinny boy wants a Big, Fat Blonde!"

BAM! CRASH! "AAAAHHHH! No! Get out of the way! Not the staircase!" THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP CRASH!

Draco looked up to see a crowd of Blaise Zabinis hovering over him. "Ooh, got you on the stairs this time, eh? You might want to get up before…" The bottom of the staircase started to shift away.

"Help! Blaise!" Draco reached out a desperate hand, and Blaise grasped it and pulled Draco and his beloved bicycle to safety.

Draco had just managed to disentangle himself from the apparatus and stand up when Blaise tapped him on the shoulder. "Better hurry up. Here comes Peeves."

The two Slytherins ducked into an alcove, and Draco took a moment to catch his breath and prod the back of his head gingerly with one hand. "I don't understand it, Blaise. What did I do? Every time I pass her in the halls, she beans me with books. I don't even see her beforehand half the time."

Blaise shot him an exasperated look. "You mean you haven't figured out the pattern yet?"

Draco just looked confused.

"What are you doing directly prior to each of her assaults?" asked Blaise.

"Bicycling to class." Blaise raised his eyebrows and motioned with his hand for Draco to keep talking. "And...singing? Does she not like music? I suppose everyone's tastes vary, but I always try to stick to the classi-"

"What were you singing, Draco?"

"Um...hang on…'Big Fat Blonde'? She doesn't like The Rainmakers? But they have such clever lyrics!"

Blaise sighed. "What color is Hannah Abbott's hair?"

"Blonde. Why? What does that matter? My mother and father have blonde hair, Luna Lovegood has blonde hair, and none of them have pelted me with books."

"You were singing about big, fat blondes, Draco. And the time before that, it was fat-bottomed girls. And before that, it was...more fat-bottomed girls. She thinks you're teasing her about her weight."

Draco thought for a moment. "But she's not fat at all. She's...shapely. And, anyway, all those songs are about how wonderful large women are. Not that Hannah is large. She's just the right size, actually."

Blaise just shook his head. "Girls, Draco. They follow their own logic."

"Oh." Draco looked glum.

"Don't worry," Blaise smirked. "She's probably so bothered by it because she likes you."

Draco looked hopeful. "Really?"


Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt leaned forward in his chair before the Headmaster's office desk. "Dumbledore, Umbridge is finally making her move. She's gathering aurors to march on Hogwarts and reposition herself as a higher authority within the school. Fudge has practically given her carte blanche."

Dumbledore frowned. "How long do we have to prepare?"

"She plans to surprise you in three days," said Kingsley.

The old man's eyes twinkled optimistically. "Well, if it's a surprise she's looking for, I shall consult with my staff about how best to accommodate her."


"Three days!" cried McGonagall. "That's hardly any time to prepare a legal defense."

Slytherin snorted, "Forget legal defense. I've got a much better idea. I've been meaning to discuss this with you all, actually."

Flitwick looked at their newest/oldest professor askance. "You were expecting this?"

"Of course. I did boot her from the premises quite violently. I'm still apologizing to Bane for dropping her into centaur lands. That fellow sure can hold a grudge. Of course, she did manage to cannonball right into the middle of their favorite watering hole. Seems I did make a hole in one after all."

McGonagall rolled her eyes. "Do be serious, Professor Slytherin."

"I'll have you know I take my golf game very seriously," he replied. "Anyway, as I was saying, I think it's about time we reinstated the tradition of midterms."

Sprout looked curious. "Midterms? What are those?"

Gryffindor looked up from his Babbity Rabbity coloring book. "Oh, I loved midterms! Will we be inviting the muggles?" he asked, to the surprise of the rest of the staff.

"I think not," said Slytherin. "Too many regulations restricting muggle/magical interaction."

Godric frowned. "I was looking forward to seeing who'd win free drinks this year."


Professor Dumbledore arrived early to breakfast the following morning to find a large crowd gathered around the head table. As he made his way to the center of the group, he discovered his chair was already occupied by a large portrait. Professor McGonagall turned at his approach, an exasperated expression on her face. "There you are, Albus! Someone has unearthed the portrait of Helga Hufflepuff, and she's demanding to be installed here in the Great Hall."

"Helga Hufflepuff? My, my...Founders are practically crawling out of the woodwork these days." Albus stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I see no objection to keeping her portrait here."

Minerva sighed heavily, as if on her last nerve. "That's because you haven't met her yet. I'm not entirely convinced the woman is Helga Hufflepuff. She's a menace! And a lush! And that husband of hers is not helping!"

Albus took a closer look at the portrait in question. The central figure within the gilt frame was an attractive witch. She looked a bit like a younger Minerva - from the days between graduating from Hogwarts and beginning her professorship. The brunette waved a flagon in greeting. "Hello! You must be Headmaster…" she snapped her fingers several times. "No, don't tell me...er...Byron! How are you, Byron!" She turned to the tall, blonde monolith beside her and whispered, "His name is Byron, isn't it?"

The monolith smiled indulgently and whispered back, "I'm sure it must be, min ganske grevling."

Albus chuckled and replied, "Please, call me Albus."

Helga frowned. "That's an odd nickname for Byron." Then she shrugged. "Meh. To each his own, eh, Byron?"

"Of course, Madame," he answered congenially. "I understand you wish to be installed here?"

"Oh yes!" she cried. "I want to be where the action is. I like to keep an eye on my little badgers - make sure they're living up to the Hufflepuff reputation. Mealtime gatherings are the best place to establish one's position in society. Why, I remember the first feast we held here after we built the castle. My students already making connections, breaking bread...and bones...threatening each other with butter knives and armwrestling for the last chicken wing." She sighed. "It was glorious. I won, of course. Important to assert one's authority early on. Establish a standard of performance. Teach by example, and all that. Godric was in the hospital wing for a week."

"Er...yes," mumbled Albus. "Where exactly did you wish to be hung?"

Helga peered about the edges of her frame. "This seems to make a very nice easel. The view is excellent, and the location properly reflects my authority."

Albus frowned. "Well, yes, however...I'm afraid that chair is reserved for the current headmaster."

"Oh?" Helga raised an imperious eyebrow. "And how did you earn it?"

Minerva scoffed. "By defeating Gellard Grindelwald, a powerful dark wizard."

Helga frowned. "Just the one? Was he at least immortal? Or...nearly? Could he turn into a dragon? Was he a cannibal? Necromancer? Did he have a ring that could subjugate nations?"

Minerva looked nonplussed. "Er...no."

"Then perhaps Byron had to conquer insurmountable odds in order to even reach the dueling field? Was there lava involved? Did he lose any body parts? Did he leave a trail of nostrils behind him?"

"What?!" Minerva was flabbergasted. "How would one leave behind a trail of nostrils? Aren't they defined by their absence?"

Helga shrugged. "Poetic license. You do have your own epic poem, don't you?" She aimed that last question at Albus, but his failure to formulate a coherent response was fortunately masked by the arrival of Professor Slytherin.

"Helga, epic poetry is a lost art. These days, the best you can hope for is a made for TV movie. Now stop challenging Professor Dumbledore's authority. We'll hang you behind and above the staff table. Very intimidating."

Helga nodded in satisfaction, and Albus immediately drew his wand and placed her there himself. "Thank you, Byron! That will be all!" She surveyed her new domain. "Holy hip flask! Is it just me, or do they get smaller every century? Adorable little anklebiters, though, aren't they? Hello, children!"


The morning meal was in full swing when Sal set down his teacup, dabbed his mouth with a napkin, stood up on his chair, and pulled a miniature gong from his pocket. Ignoring Snape's curious look, he casually tapped the gong with his wand. BOOOOOONNNNGGGG! The entire hall vibrated with the sound waves from Sal's magical pocket gong, and all eyes turned to the staff table.

"Excellent!" said Sal. "Now that I have everyone's attention, I have an important announcement to make. All classes are canceled today and tomorrow!" He waited a few moments until the cheers died down before continuing. "This gives you two whole days to prepare yourself for a ginormous, multi-course, practical exam on Thursday. You will be graded on your performance, so don't slack off now!" He beamed down at hundreds of horrified faces. "That is all. As you were."

Sal stepped down to the floor and reseated himself to enjoy the rest of his breakfast, seemingly oblivious to the panic he had just caused.

Snape rolled his eyes and sipped calmly from his own teacup. "You do realize the Ravenclaws will have your head for this?" he warned his colleague.

Sal grinned. "Ravenclaws under pressure are my favorite part of midterms. They come up with the most random, creative solutions that way. Besides, I'm not their head of house."

Snape smirked. "Don't forget the honorary Ravenclaw residing in Gryffindor Tower." It took a great deal of effort to refrain from laughing outright at the expression his words elicited from the normally unflappable Professor Slytherin.


"All right, Harry, Ron, here are your color coded study schedules. Memorize them, tattoo them on your foreheads, staple them to your robes...just don't lose them!" Hermione looked nine kinds of frazzled as she thrust large sheets of parchment in their general direction.

Ron studied his copy with obvious concern. "You've not allowed any time for meals...or sleep...or bathroom breaks."

Hermione didn't appear to have heard him. "We can focus on basic review for most of our classes, but it's really impossible to predict what the Divination portion of the test will entail. Oh dear! Where is my quill? Where on earth is my quill?!"

Ron and Harry just stared at her for a moment as she started turning in circles with ever-increasing speed, trying to locate her errant writing instrument until Ginny reached over and plucked it out of the back of Hermione's messy bun, causing her hair to explode into a cascade of frizzy curls dotted with blue ink.

"Oh thank you, Ginny!" Hermione sighed. Then she rounded on the two boys. "What on earth are you doing just standing there? Books! Books! Now!"

Harry and Ron shared a look before Harry cleared his throat. "Er, Hermione? We really don't need to -"

"Don't need? DON'T NEED?! THERE'S PLENTY OF NEED AND NOT NEARLY ENOUGH TIME!" Hermione was three shades of red and heading straight for a complete mental collapse.

Ginny pulled out her wand and pointed it at their panicking friend. "Petrificus Totalus." Hermione went rigid and collapsed back onto the sofa behind her. "Let Harry finish."

"Thanks, Ginny," said Harry. "What I meant to say is that there's a reason they only gave us two days warning. They're testing how much knowledge we've managed to retain so far, not how much we can cram into our heads for the immediate future. The two days aren't for learning new things, or even reviewing. We're meant to spend this time preparing to apply all we've learned." Sensing Hermione's panic had receded in the face of her need to process this new information, Harry performed the counterspell that would grant her full mobility once more.

"When you say 'preparing to apply'...?" she asked.

"I would start by taking stock of our strengths and gathering useful supplies. Prepare a...bag of tricks, so to speak. Something that you can have at your disposal to handle any magical predicament in which you might find yourself."

Ron started to get that look. The one he always got right before he trounced Harry at chess. "You mean, they want to know how we would handle a magical situation with what we already know?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. Also, I'll let you in on a little secret." He motioned for his friends to lean in closer. "Peeves became a resident of Hogwarts as a direct result of one slightly overprepared but overconfident sixth year during a midterm exam." At the others' shocked expressions, he added, "Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Wickham was never one to consider long-term repercussions."

Ron's eyes were wide as dinner plates. "You mean, he was brought here on purpose? He's doing what he was originally intended to do?"

"Yes," said Harry. "It was an extremely effective strategy short-term, but points were docked for...what's the technical term?...Ah! Irrevocable spellwork." He nodded. "Actually, a lot of the more...inconvenient aspects of Hogwarts were created during midterms. Moving staircases, trick steps, fake doors, the Forbidden Forest…"

Hermione's eyebrows rose so high they threatened to take flight. "You're not seriously expecting us to believe that students created an entire forest for a test?"

"Oh no!" Harry hurried to correct. "The forest was already there. It just wasn't nearly as dangerous. The first years used to play hide and seek in there. But after that one year, many students who scored quite high for Care of Magical Creatures had rendered that particular area unsuitable for everyday use. The centaurs love it, though - keeps other people out of their territory."

Ron was still thinking. "Are they going to test us individually, or in groups?"

"Actually," Harry said, "All students will be tested simultaneously."

"We're allowed to work together?" Ron asked.

"You don't honestly think those moving staircases were triggered by just one person casting a spell, do you?" was Harry's reply.

Ron grinned. "I think we need to have a house meeting."


Draco heaved a tremendous sigh as he slumped on the edge of his bed. "What am I going to do? There's no way I can cram in enough study material for eight examinations."

"Draco?" called out a friendly voice from the book propped open on Draco's nightstand. "Are you all right? You look a bit down in the dumps."

Draco aimed a pathetic face at his Uncle Sal. "The teachers have announced a new series of tests called 'midterms', and they've only given us two days to prepare."

Sal smiled reassuringly. "Oh, Draco. Midterms are not a new thing. We had them when I was a professor, and everyone always found them to be quite enjoyable."

Draco was unconvinced. "Who would ever consider a test enjoyable?"

Uncle Sal made a show of peering around the room. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to give you a bit of a hint. You are one of my Slytherins, after all." Leaning further into the foreground of his illustration, he stage whispered, "For starters, it's a practical exam where everyone is tested simultaneously and can work in groups of their own choosing. The object is to protect the castle from an invading force. Don't let them get too far in. Use whatever means necessary, barring mortal wounds or permanent disfigurement, etc."

Draco's eyes widened. "Who's playing the part of the invading army? The professors?"

"Oh no!" Uncle Sal corrected. "The professors must remain impartial observers in order to grade the students' performance fairly. It's always a third party. In my day, we used the muggles from the nearby village. Of course, with the modern statute of secrecy, that would be out of the question this year. If it were me, which - let's face it - it probably is, I'd ask the aurors to participate."

Draco shook his head. "I doubt that. Hogwarts is on the outs with the Ministry these days. Especially after you booted the Ministry appointed DADA professor in such a publicly humiliating way."

Uncle Sal looked rather pleased with himself. "You'll have to give me the details later. So, how do things stand between Hogwarts and the Ministry now?"

"Well," said Draco, "Umbridge has convinced Minister Fudge that Dumbledore has assembled an army of loyal students to overthrow the government. She's determined to help him seize control of Hogwarts and indoctrinate the students against Dumbledore and his allies."

"I see," said Uncle Sal. "Then perhaps the professors are merely taking advantage of an impending opportunity."

Draco stared at him. "You don't think… You don't actually think that the Ministry will attack Hogwarts?"

"Oh, not in so obvious a fashion. This Umbridge woman will probably commandeer a team of aurors to take the Headmaster into custody and relieve him of his position, leaving Hogwarts at the mercy of the Ministry." Uncle Sal's expression turned serious. "Draco, it's very important that she not succeed. You must rally the troops and save the school. Help them, Dracowan; you're their only hope."

Draco grinned. "I actually got that reference! Very well. It's about time Slytherins got to be the heroes. Should I wear a cape?"

"NO CAPES!"

"I got that reference, too! I'll get a lightsaber."


Seventh year Leonidas Adamadis, Leo to his friends, was monopolizing the favored seat in the Hufflepuff common room, a high-backed chair that had been adorned with the horns of some unknown creature (possibly an extinct variety of dragon) and upholstered with the hide of a water buffalo from Helga Hufflepuff's African safari days. He addressed the rather winded and excitable first year standing before him. "A message from Slytherin House?. What's Draco Malfoy up to these days? We have an important test to prepare for."

The first year, finally catching his breath, nodded vigorously. "Yes, that's what the message is about! He says the test is a mock battle. The students are supposed to defend Hogwarts from an invading army. Only Malfoy says he's received word from a very reliable source that the invasion is actually going to be real. He thinks Umbridge is going to storm the castle and try to take over!"

"What?! Is he advising unconditional surrender?" Leo asked with a frown.

"No! Slytherin House is proposing an alliance. He's offering to coordinate defenses with a chosen representative of each house in order to ensure the best chance for victory."

Leo's eyes practically glowed with excitement. "Finally! Some real action! Hufflepuff will triumph, and the Ministry will never know what hit them!"

A resounding cheer rose all around the common room as the guardians of Helga's legacy realized that centuries of Hufflepuff tradition would at last be revealed in all its glory. Their day had come.


Nigel Whitmore, the Slytherin third year appointed to act as Ambassador to Ravenclaw (the overinflated title being the only thing that would induce him to accept the task) applied the very annoying eagle-shaped knocker to Ravenclaw's front door a fourth time. As it had done the previous three times, the eagle responded with a ridiculously cryptic riddle. "For the last time," Nigel huffed, "I don't want to go in! I just need someone to come out so I can deliver a message!"

The eagle rolled its eyes. "Very well. One moment, please."

Several moments later, a rather frazzled Ravenclaw fifth year flung the door open, bellowed, "Go away! We're studying!" and then promptly slammed the door shut once more.

Nigel heaved a sigh. This was going to take forever. He raised his hand to the knocker and rapped a fifth time.


Glowing, green numbers hovered over the mantle of the Slytherin common room fireplace, counting down the minutes until Midterms would begin. Draco Malfoy stood before a large table, poring over a rough map of Hogwarts - both the grounds and castle proper. "Blaise, how are we on potions?"

"Professor Snape didn't exactly give permission to access the school's ingredient stores, but neither did he deny it." Blaise Zabini reported.

"Probably because you never bothered to ask," muttered Daphne Greengrass.

Blaise looked affronted. "I did ask, actually. He just didn't respond vocally. He did, however, leave the key within easy reach on his desk. Pansy is bottling up the last of the shrinking solution now. All the other potions have been packed and distributed among the ranks."

"And what about Snape's special extra credit assignment?" asked Draco.

Blaise grinned. "Stored in key locations throughout the castle. It's much too volatile to carry with us."

"Good, good," said Draco. "Where's Nigel? Any word from Ravenclaw yet?"

Gregory Goyle shrugged. "I checked on him an hour ago. He was still attempting to make contact."

Draco frowned. "I see. I suppose we'll have to make do with Hufflepuff and Gryffindor."


"I deserve to be leader!" shouted Zacharias Smith. "The Smiths are directly descended from Helga Hufflepuff. It's my birthright!"

Hannah Abbot sneered in disgust. "You know very well Hufflepuffs don't inherit titles. It's the strong who lead."

"Yeah!" Justin Finch Fletchley chimed in. "You can't even handle Butterbeer! How do you propose to lead an army with such a weak constitution?"

The ensuant cacophony of bickering was brought to an abrupt halt by the shrill whistle of Susan Bones. "Oi! Why don't we take this to Helga herself? Her portrait's hanging right there in the Great Hall."

Leo nodded. "An excellent suggestion, Susan. Let's go, everyone!" He led the procession of Hufflepuffs, with a grumbling Smith trailing behind, directly to their House Founder's portrait.

"Ahem. Pardon me, Lady Helga," Leo began. "We have a slight problem we were hoping you could resolve."

Helga smiled down at her little badgers. "Have you tried punching the problem? That usually works."

All eyes turned on the problem in question. "Unfortunately, that hasn't proved successful in this instance. Smith here is exceptionally hard-headed."

The aforementioned Smith tenderly probed his black eye. "Lady Helga, please inform these barbarians that I am the rightful leader of Hufflepuff as I am your direct descendant."

Helga frowned. "I wouldn't know about your lineage. What have you done to prove yourself?"

Smith frowned. "Prove myself?"

"Yes," said Helga. "Have you killed a dragon? Defeated a dark lord? Conquered North America?" She looked at him expectantly. "Well? Speak up!"

"Er...but I'm only a student," Smith argued.

"Pfft!" Helga scoffed. "I've heard of a Gryffindor who offed a dark lord while still in diapers. Being a student is no excuse."

The Hufflepuffs all looked at each other. Despite their relief that Helga wasn't about to endorse Smith's claim, they weren't sure that any of them met the requirements. Leo stepped forward again. "Unfortunately, the world isn't as dangerous a place as it was in your time, milady. None of us has really had the opportunity to prove ourselves in such a decisive fashion."

Helga frowned again. "I see. Well, there's only one way to settle this then. Who here is best at holding their liquor?"

Almost everyone pointed to Leo. "He was even in a bar fight last Hogsmeade weekend," offered Winifred Rockbell. "Not only did he win, he downed his opponents' drinks afterwards."

Leo shrugged off the praise with modesty. "Not like they were going to finish them. All of them were unconscious. Though I did have to compensate Aberforth for the damages. Who knew windows were so expensive."

Helga beamed at him. "A lad after my own heart! Badgers, I give you...What's your name?"

"Leonidas Adamadis, ma'am."

"I give you, Leonidas Adamadis, General of Hufflepuff Army. Be sure to see your head of house to arrange the ceremony."

Once again, all the Hufflepuffs proceeded to return to their common room, Smith trailing even further behind and grumbling all the louder. Sprout was waiting for them at the entrance. "Where have you all been? It's after curfew!"

"We asked Lady Helga to choose our general," said Hannah. "Leo won the honor. She said there is a ceremony?"

Sprout smiled widely. "Ooh! I've always wanted to do this! Come along then! Into my office. We must fetch the ceremonial garb."

Sprout's office must have had a latent expansion charm on it because the room seemed to grow larger to accommodate all of her students as they filed in. The professor opened a cabinet in one corner and pulled out an impressive Viking helmet resting atop a folded animal pelt. She blew off the coating of dust, placed the items on her desk, and turned to face Leo. "Leonidas Adamadis, it is my great honor and privilege to bestow upon you the rank of Supreme Commander General of Hufflepuff Army. Kneel and receive the symbols of your office."

Leo sank to one knee and humbly bowed his head. Sprout shook out the pelt, sending a couple of mothballs flying across the room, and draped the pelt over his shoulders. "I clothe you in the pelt of a nemean lion slain by Helga Hufflepuff, founder of our noble house." She reached for the helmet and placed it upon Leo's head. "I crown you with the war helmet of Hilmar, beloved consort of Hufflepuff, adorned with the horns of a Hungarian Horntail slain by Helga Hufflepuff, founder of our noble house." Sprout then drew her wand and summoned a jar of dark paste. She dipped two fingers into the mixture and drew badger stripes down Leo's forehead. "I anoint you with the stripes of the badger, the symbol of Helga Hufflepuff, founder of our noble house." Sprout then set the jar aside and wiped her hands on the handkerchief thoughtfully provided by Susan Bones. "Rise, General Leonidas, and lead your army to victory."


Several Ravenclaws were scurrying around the common room like headless chickens. Others were huddled in corners crying over massive textbooks. Still more were ignoring all the commotion, focused on sharpening their quills and taking copious notes from past lectures and supplemental reading. Most of the first years - unused to marathon study sessions - were passed out, mouths slightly open and drooling puddles wherever they lay.

Padma Patil was frantically stuffing books into her school satchel, straining the expansion charm nearly to its breaking point.

"What on earth are you doing, Padma?" asked Michael Corner.

"I'm packing a few things just in case I get a chance to study between exams. If only we know what order we'd be taking them in."

"That's a good idea," Michael agreed. "I'll tell the others."

At that moment, Luna Lovegood strolled by. "Leave the smaller ones behind, Padma," she advised. "The heavier ones will make more of an impact. I'm going to organize my balloons by color."

Padma and Michael stared at her as she wandered off. Michael shook his head. "That girl is completely mental. She's right about the books, though. The bigger ones will have the most information." Padma nodded and proceeded to empty out her satchel and repack her books.


"Thank you, everyone, for contributing your chess pieces for our war table," announced Ron. "And thank you, Harry, for providing us with an accurate and detailed map of the castle."

Harry grinned. "Don't mention it. Though I must confess it was Fred and George who managed to enlarge it for us."

The map in question completely covered the large table at the center of the Gryffindor common room, and chess pieces of varying styles dotted the parchment. The markers had all been charmed to represent the colors of the four houses.

"Ravenclaw has failed to report, so we should assume they're still in the dark and can't be relied on," said Ron. "Slytherin teams will station themselves here, here, and at each main junction on the second, third, and fourth floors. Hufflepuffs have guaranteed a few surprises along the charms corridor and in the trophy room. They'll also be patrolling floors one and five. Gryffindors are guarding the main entrance. In addition, Katie Bell will be leading the aerial squad in surveillance, and the twins and their team have set traps here, here, here, here, and of course here. Try to remember those locations as they haven't had time to erect wards to discriminate between friend and foe. Harry's group will be in charge of diversionary tactics. Hermione, I need you and your group to recruit as many Ravenclaws as you can find. First years will act as couriers between units as the aurors will be more inclined to dismiss them as harmless and let them move freely about the castle."

Ron looked about the room, making eye contact with as many individuals as possible before uttering his final words: "You all have your assignments. Let's do this."


Professor Sprout calmly sipped her breakfast tea. "I can't wait to see what Professor Slytherin has come up with for these midterm examinations. He's proven to be so inventive. The students are all quite taken with him."

Snape scowled at his scrambled eggs. "I don't think I want to know. I'm planning on holing myself up in my potions lab and waiting the whole thing out safely behind my wards."

"Come now, Severus," Professor McGonagall chided, "It's examinations, not a battle. How dangerous could it be?"

All eyes turned to a side door as Professor Slytherin strode up to the staff table and said, "Time for everyone to take their places. Electricity!" Suddenly, all chairs at the table vanished from the Great Hall, taking their occupants with them.

"What the blazes!" shouted McGonagall as she landed in the staff room along with all of the other professors and the headmaster. The staff table morphed into a 3-D projection of the castle and grounds. A transparent and cheery Salazar Slytherin floated above the image and waved cheekily.

"I've taken the liberty of portkeying you to a safe location where you may observe the proceedings without risking interference," Slytherin informed them all. "I've warded the doors to keep our participants out and you in. Our industrious house elves have provided a buffet of appetizers to tide you over for the duration of the exam."

Snape tested the door and found it locked. He turned and scowled at Slytherin. "Why aren't you in here with the rest of us?"

"Someone has to be on hand to deal with any situations that may exceed our student's capabilities. I'll be patrolling the corridors as an observer and ensuring all of our little soldiers remain intact." He then produced a muggle army helmet with the word OBSERVER clearly written across the front in red. "Do make yourselves comfortable while our students protect the school against Umbridge and her Delaurors."

"Wait!" shouted Professor Sinistra. "What if we need to use the loo?"

"Don't worry," assured Slytherin, "I've provided a port-a-loo for you."

"A what?" asked Sinistra.

Snape sneered at the tall, plastic, blue box in the corner. "I suppose it's bigger on the inside?"

Slytherin laughed. "No, I'm afraid I had to nick it from a nearby muggle construction site. Poor planning on my part, but I'm sure they won't miss it. Cheerio!" And with that, Slytherin vanished from sight.

McGonagall looked about the room. "Where's Gryffindor?"


"Sal? Are you sure this is a good idea?" asked Godric.

"Trust me," Sal replied. "As a student, Harry Potter needs to participate in the examinations, but I can't use the time turner to be in two places at once when we have no idea how long this will take. Don't worry. You'll make a great me. Now drink up."


Meanwhile, at a nearby muggle construction site…

"Where did the port-a-loo go?" the burly muggle cried as he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another and back again in a very awkward dance.

His co-worker shrugged. "Go in the bushes."

"I can't! It's number two!"

His co-worker shrugged again. "Told you that second burrito was a bad idea."


ZA: There will be a reward for the first minion to correctly guess the inspiration for Leo's name. This one's a bit more obvious, I think.

Crispy: I've been so looking forward to this chapter and the next.