A/N: Essentially, what you recognize belongs to the goddess that is J.K. Rowling, and what you don't belongs to insignificant little me.

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Genevieve had been severely wrong when she'd assumed she'd have more free time this year. Despite having less classes, N.E.W.T. students had to do much more work than before. They were now expected to use non-verbal spells, on top of Moody's often extreme lessons, on top of Snape's teachings, which had now reached an entirely new level of harsh.

She typically spent a bare minimum of four hours a day on coursework outside of class, often staying up late in the common room. Today she sat near Ron and Harry, who were having frustrating progress on their Divination assignment.

Harry set his quill down. "I haven't got a clue what this lot's supposed to mean."

"You know," Ron started. "I think it's back to the old Divination standby."

"What - make it up?"

"Yeah," Ron cleared the table of his previous writings and began again. "Next Monday, I am likely to develop a cough, owing to the unlucky conjunction of Mars and Jupiter."

Genevieve laughed. "You mean, she'll actually believe this rubbish?"

"Yeah," Ron said confidently. "Just put in loads of misery, she'll lap it up."

Harry went along with it. "Okay . . . on Monday, I will be in danger of - er - burns."

"Yeah, you will be," Ron muttered, "we're seeing the skrewts again in Monday."

"Oh come on," Genevieve said. "They're ugly and useless, yes, but they're not bad. You lot dealt with a bloody dragon your first year!"

"Yeah, and I wasn't keen on seeing anything like it again," Ron said. "Anyway - Tuesday, I'll . . . erm . ."

"Lose a treasured possession," Harry provided, flipping through his textbook not for research, but for ideas."

Ron jotted it down. "Good one. Because of . . . erm . . . Mercury. Why don't you get stabbed in the back by someone you thought was a friend?"

"Yeah . . . cool . . . because . . . Venus is in the twelfth house."

Genevieve snorted, returning to her own work, but keeping an ear out for the more creative ones. It would certainly help their assignment if a few of them were to come true . . .

Fred and George, meanwhile, were in a corner of the room, writing secretively on a piece of parchment. Genevieve frowned. This was odd behavior, especially for them. She made a mental note to ask them later.

After everyone else had gone to bed, and it was just Genevieve, Harry, and Ron left, Hermione entered, carrying a box and a bit of parchment. The girl had been spending quite a bit of time in the library lately.

"Hello, I've just finished!"

"So have I!" Ron said with triumph as he set down his quill. Hermione read his predictions.

"Not going to have a very good month, are you?"

"Ah well, at least I'm forewarned."

"You seem to be drowning twice," she noted.

"Oh am I?"

"Change it to getting trampled by a rampaging hippogriff," Genevieve suggested, thinking fondly of Buckbeak.

"Nice one," he said.

"Don't you think it's a bit obvious you've made these up?" Hermione questioned.

"How dare you!" Ron feigned offense. "We've been working like house-elves here!"

She gave him a look.

"It's just an expression."

"What's in the box?" Harry asked.

"Funny you should ask."

She showed them all the contents. It contained roughly fifty badges of varying colors, and "S.P.E.W." was on each of them.

" 'Spew'?" Harry was confused. "What's this about?"

"Not spew," Hermione snapped. "It's S-P-E-W. Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"Never heard of it," Ron said.

"Well, of course you haven't," she replied smoothly. "I've only just started it."

"Yeah? How many members have you got?"

"Well - if you three join - four."

"And you think we want to walk around wearing badges saying 'spew', do you?"

"S-P-E-W!" Hermione was getting impatient. "I was going to put Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status – but it wouldn't fit. So that's the heading of our manifesto. I've been researching it thoroughly in the library. Elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can't believe no one's done anything about it before now."

"Hermione - open your ears," Ron said, exasperated. "They. Like. It. They like being enslaved!"

"Our short-term aims," Hermione continued, ignoring him, "are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term aims include changing the law about non-wand use, and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they're shockingly underrepresented."

"And how do we do all this?" Harry asked, giving up.

"We start by recruiting numbers. I thought two Sickles to join – that buys a badge – and the proceeds can fund our leaflet campaign. You're treasurer, Ron – I've got you a collecting tin upstairs – and Harry, you're secretary, so you might want to write down everything I'm saying now, as a record of our first meeting. Genevieve – I've decided to make you vice-president, so we need to collaborate often - "

Genevieve held up her hand. "Hermione - I'm sorry, but I'm not going to join. I've seen house-elves, and they've always been perfectly happy the way they were. They don't care about rights and money and vacations. They're happy just to serve wizards, and, so long as wizards treat them right, I say we leave them be."

"Hmph!" Hermione said hotly. "Maybe they're happy because they just don't know any better!"

Genevieve started to reply, but was interrupted by a tapping on the window. Hedwig, Harry's owl, was trying to deliver a letter.

"Hedwig!" He exclaimed, rushing to open the window and let her in. She landed on their homework table. "About time!"

"She's got an answer!"

"Yeah, that is typically how owl post goes. Why are you so ex - unless . . . it's Sirius?"

They nodded.

"I sent him a letter a while back, and we've been waiting for a response ever since," Harry explained.

"What does it say?" Hermione asked, S.P.E.W. completely forgotten.

Harry read to all of them:

Harry -

I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore - they're saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs, even if no one else's.

I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron, Hermione and Genevieve. Tell her I'm taking good care of Buckbeak. Keep your eyes open, Harry.

Sirius

"What news about your scar?" Genevieve asked worriedly. "What could be so important that he's coming back?"

Harry groaned. "My scar hurt over the summer, and I had a dream about Voldemort and Wormtail planning to kill . . . someone. The last time my scar hurt, Voldemort was near me."

Ron focused on another part of the letter. "Dumbledore's reading what signs? Harry - what's up?"

He said this last part because, quite like an insane man, Harry had just hit his fist against his forehead with enough force that Hedwig flew out of his lap.

"I shouldn't've told him!" Harry berated himself.

"What are you on about?"

"It's made him think he's got to come back!" Harry slammed his fist on the table. Genevieve jumped. "Coming back, because he thinks I'm in trouble! And there's nothing wrong with me! And I haven't got anything for you," he said sharply to Hedwig, "you'll have to go up to the Owlery if you want food."

Hedwig was extremely indignant at this, flying noisily out the window.

"Harry," Hermione said soothingly.

"I'm going to bed," he said. "See you in the morning."

And he marched straight out of sight. Genevieve sighed. "At least Buckbeak's well."