A/N: Yay! An update! Thanks to all my reviewers: you rock my socks! Lol… This chapter is a fair bit shorter that the last one, if you consider the fact that it was more than 6000 words. Never fear, this one is still pretty long… :D

January 9th

You'd never have guessed it. Apparently Snape isn't as cool, calm and collected as he first appears. In fact, I'd go so far as to say he has a rather livid ride, a bloody mental livid side that is dangerous when provoked. And it also seems that Severus Snape doesn't like surprises. Not at all.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing?" He screams, leaving even Fred and George gaping like fish. The force of the air coming from the man's throat practically blows poor skinny Alicia to the other side of the room.

I mean, who even screams in Italics? Seriously, that's how he said it. As if it were written in Italics. He really has some anger management issues. I don't know why Sinistra would even go for him- okay, stop that thought right now.

"Who is responsible for this? I will personally make sure they never set foot in this castle again!"

Can you ban someone from going to school because they threw you a birthday party? I ask Lee, but he says it isn't likely. In any case, the look on Snape's face when he sees us whispering as he is trying to display his rage is not a pleasant one, to say the least.

"How dare you! And the fact that the rest of you would go along with such idiocy! I will personally make sure every single person in this class is punished!"

Okay, can you say harsh or what? He's even sinking so low as to threaten his own house with punishment. Speaking of that, I wonder how Fred and Ange managed to get the Slytherins to go along with our plan? It was pretty much a given that all the Gryffindors would go along with it, with the possible exception of Jess White. She still seems to be harbouring a grudge towards me about last week…

"I will personally decapitate whoever it was that came up with such an insolent and disgusting display of rule breaking and stalking…"

Wait. Stalking? I've never stalked anyone in my entire life! I mean, yeah, I've been stalked, but I haven't been the one doing the stalking or anything. Oh no! This might go on my record. One more thing to add to the rather long list of offences. At this rate, I think I might even be surpassing Chris. I've already passed Michael, and Alex didn't have any offences to pass.

"Who was the mastermind of this abhorrent and tasteless imprudence?" Snape snarls, resting his loathing gaze on me a microsecond too long for comfort. But it's nothing compared to the length of time he spends staring at Fred and George, who grin and wave back innocently. Still, I think even they're surprised at the venom with which he responded to his birthday party.

Jess White raises her hand. Ever noticed how the tattle always seems to come from within your own forces, never from enemy lines? "Sir," she says, with all seriousness, "I think I know who it was."

The Slytherins start snickering amongst themselves. They can't dob, because all they know is that the Gryffindors did it. Besides, they seem to be having more fun watching us get caught slowly, rather than by their own hands.

Snape stops his ranting for a moment and curls his lip towards Jessica. "And pray tell me, Miss White, who might that be?"

Jess looks revolted, but I do see her eye shift towards me and the tiniest smirk appear on her face. "It was-"

"Ooh! Cake!" A Slytherin suddenly squeals, upon seeing the large mound on the desk in front of Lee and I. He stumbles up, knocking over his stool, his cauldron- the whole damn table, in fact. It's interesting to see that at least someone appreciates my cake-baking efforts. Take that, all you snobby associates of the family. Some people like Katie Bell's cooking.

He rushes over, and instead of patiently waiting his turn and asking me to cut it or whatever, he just digs his hand in and literally starts filling his gob with the red, gold and brown muck. "Mmm," he says- I think it's actually that Quidditch player, the one that looks like the Neanderthal- "not bad," he says, with an appraising glance towards our cake.

As you can imagine, after that it doesn't take long for the rest of the Slytherins to get the same idea embedded in their teensy tiny little brains, and within minutes we have a full on swarm of snakes, each vying to get more cake than the last.

Funnily enough, it's Brencis- the one who always seems to be asleep; it appears that Snape's wrath is enough to keep him awake- who moves towards the remains of the cake first. And when he goes to eat cake, he eats with gusto. I've never seen him eat before (which, really, could be considered a good thing) because he's always too late for breakfast, sleeps through lunch and I guess sleeps through dinner, too.

Odd that he's not what you'd call skinny, then. I guess we've found out why- his remarkable penchant for blackberry cake, topped with red and gold icing.

Oh, yeah. The blackberry thing. Alicia keeps sending worried little glances towards me, and even I can see that the rash is spreading downwards. It's already coming down my arms, and I can only imagine what my face must look like. Oh well. I'll delay going to the hospital wing until I start hyperventilating. I don't want to miss the action.

Snape's still screaming, only I can't really hear him because of the buzzing sound in my ears. I can make out a few words, such as 'deplorable', 'abominable' and 'I deserve to be Headmaster after this'.

If you ask me, he's just slightly delusional. Just a tad…

"Katie, this cake is really good," Angelina mumbles at me, crumbs spilling out of her mouth as she reaches for still more cake. The entire Slytherin and Gryffindor population (at least, the people in the room) are stuffing their faces to the max with our 'concoction', except for Lee and I.

For a moment, I smile around at everyone as I see them enjoy it, and even go so far as to reach for a bit myself, until I remember three very important things.

There are blackberries in it. If I look like a stuffed pig fresh out of the oven at whatever-holiday-it-is-they-eat-pigs, then imagine what I'll look like if I actually eat the bloody things. Not a good mental image, people.

The cake itself was not exactly made in what one might call the most hygienic of circumstances. Eg, the eggshells, egg cartons, and various assorted utensils that are embedded in the cake. The Neanderthal dude from Slytherin appears to have just discovered this particular fact, as he is now choking on what looks to be a long, silver spoon.

There is a potion in it, okay? A green one and everything. Also a potion that was made by the infamous Weasley twins, and one that was intended for Severus Snape. Would you seriously willingly take something with a potion meant for a bastard that everyone hates like Snape?

And then there's the whole thing with everyone's germs in it, on account of how no one bothers cutting up slices, but instead they're just grabbing chunks of it by the handful. After all, you never know where the Slytherin's hands have been.

"Lee! No!" I yell at him as he, in an apparent moment of extreme idiocy, goes to reach for some cake. Does he not remember that he made it? He has, like, zero cooking skills. Does he want food poisoning as well as inevitable decapitation?

I mean, I don't know about him, but I'd like to keep my legs for the next year, at least.

"Oh, wait a minute!" Alicia stops stuffing her face for a second to call after Fred, who, in his sugar-fuelled high, has picked up a particularly large sparkler. But, as he lights it with his wand, Alicia's face falls and she finishes, "It's only for decorat-"

Too late. There's a huge explosion, and bits of- well, everything- go flying everywhere. There's cake, streamers, a potion that Snape has already prepared, before class, and even what looks to be someone's scarf. Why they'd be wearing it down here, I don't know. I mean, yeah, it's cold- but what are they, warm-blooded? I ask Alicia, but she just screams in frustration and goes back to picking bits of lacewings from under her nails.

Jeez. Just because she is worldly experience and I've never left England before. Well, unless it was to go to Hogwarts. Because I'm pretty sure it's not in England… Note to self: find out exactly where Hogwarts is positioned, so then I can go around and tell everyone and it won't be a secret any more.

Anyway, after the explosion, it's chaos. Kids are screaming, Snape is screaming, the sparrow that somehow flew in is screaming. (Well, chirping. Whatever.)

I don't know who starts it first, but someone blows a party whistle, and then everyone is blowing party whistles and yelling and throwing streamers at each other. It's kind of amazing, really, because it isn't actually Slytherins versus Gryffindors- the snakes and lions are teaming up. If it weren't so horrifying it would bring a tear to my eye, really.

Snape looks even more disgusted than Lee, which is somewhat amusing. He looks like he's just been bested in a potions competition by Ron Weasley, or something. Which, I have to admit, is a rather entertaining notion. After all, everybody who's anybody knows that the only way he would ever pass potions is if Hermione personally took the exam for him.

Which, unfortunately for Ron, is probably not going to happen in this lifetime. Or ever, really.

Oh. George just threw something at the ceiling, which was loosened by the explosion, and now it's falling in on us. I mean, what, did Salazar Slytherin really believe that just because his house was pureblood they were invincible? This is just another example of why he never managed to take over the world, or even attempt it like Voldemort. He had no common sense.

I mean, yeah, in this day and age, when Voldemort's supposed 'right hand man' has just escaped from Azkaban, I really shouldn't be joking about it. But hey, somebody has to comment on his stupidity. Really, I can't believe he thought that stone ceilings would hold up on their own. Actually, I can't believe he didn't put reinforcing charms on it. Even I think that's dumb!

Which, you know, is saying something. After all, I've never exactly been the brightest haystack in the needle- wait… I mean stack in the hay. Whatever.

Getting off track. Snape takes one look at the former ceiling, and yells, "Get out!" An order which everyone ignores, of course. After all, they're having fun. Who would not rather get out of a room with a grumpy, possibly murderous teacher compared to having a fight in a potentially lethal dungeon?

Um, me. As my dad always said: safety in numbers, no matter if the roof is caving in. Also, so much for this castle supposedly being the safest building in the Southern Hemisphere. One little nudge from a pyromaniac (I don't have proof, but Fred did have a person-sized rocket in his room. That is grounds for suspicion in my book) and the dungeons come crashing down.

They should technically be the most stable rooms in the entire castle, seeing as all the prisoners would have been kept in here… I don't listen in History of Magic often enough to know if the founders four had prisoners, but it seems likely, if Salazar Slytherin was as stupid as I think he was.

"This is so cool," George says emphatically from next to me, gazing in wonder as the object of his loathing- the potions rooms- fall down around his feet. He grins and puts a finger out to catch some dust. I'm not quite sure how there is dust from crumbling bits of stone, but I'm not about to question it. I don't want to lose my 'smart' reputation, after all.

I follow his lead, by putting a finger out to catch the little wisps of stone. But you know what happens when I put my finger out, don't you? Instead of some nice little bits that are so soft you can hardly feel them, half a bloody brick falls onto my hand, resulting in a large crack. And there goes my finger.

"Hey, Bell," George says conversationally, pausing to throw said bit of brick at a particularly large Slytherin's head, "what's up with your skin? Have you got, you know, a terminal disease or something?"

I look down at my broken and bruised hand to see that the rash has spread, and I'm now covered in large yellowish-green spots. Is there such thing as a magical allergy? Because I think I have it. I sincerely doubt that muggles get this sort of reaction from blackberries. Then again, they're probably smart enough to be able to tell the difference between blackberries and blueberries.

"No, George," I reply scathingly, my pride slightly dinted by the fact that I apparently look like I have a terminal disease, "it's an allergy. To, um, blackberries."

"Didn't you put blueberries in the cake?"

Okay, I am so confused right now. I have no idea if we put blackberries or blueberries or even freaking purpleberries into the cake. All I know is that I'm allergic to one of them, and it just happened to be the one I put in the cake. I also now that right now, I am finding it harder to breathe than is probably normal.

Bummer.

Then again, I could have inhaled a lot of stone. But that doesn't really seem likely, as I would have noticed, because with my luck it would have been huge chunks.

"I think we should probably go now," Alicia comments, wincing as a huge chunk of ceiling falls in, so there's a hole in the middle that we can see up. If there were a class above us, then the people would have fallen through the hole, crushing everyone's bones and resulting in a painful death.

Good thing there isn't a class there, then.

"You know," I say, as everyone's heads swivel to watch the corner cave in, "that's really sounding like an excellent idea right now."

Another whole piece of stone falls down, but still no one moves. Snape, bless his cold little shrivelled heart, is still in the classroom and still screaming at us to leave. Only we can't hear him over the crashing of the rock. So all I can see is his mouth opening and closing, and Fred is doing voice-overs.

"Yes, I know I'm a moronic git. I've never had the chance to flourish, see. My home life was terrible… My parents wouldn't provide me with the basics, such as shampoo. In fact, they wouldn't even let me out of the house, which has resulted in my dead-for-three-days complexion. My brother liked to hang off my nose, which explains why my nose is frequently mistaken for an elephant's trunk…"

Hahaha. Truer words were never spoken. I squint my eyes and tilt my head a bit, and I can actually see that Snape's nose? Yeah, it really does look like an elephant's trunk!

"What are you looking at?" No sooner than the words are spoken, Lee suddenly grabs my shoulders and pushes me down. I mean, yeah, I appreciate the heroic gesture and all, but did he have to hit my head on the candle of the cake whilst he was at it? That's what you call ironic…

"Oops, sorry," he tells me sheepishly, giving me a hand up while I gaze admiringly at the huge rock which very narrowly missed my head. Which, you know, would have been a bit sad if it had actually hit. Then again, I wouldn't have to do my Defence Against the Dark Arts essay that's due next week… as if I can do three feet! Alicia's already done it, she reckons it's the easiest assignment we've ever had.

Well guess what, Alicia? Just because you can go on and on and on for hours about little freaking pixies doesn't mean we all can! In fact, I can only think of two things to say about them at the moment. One: they are blue. And really, really ugly. Like, as if they're so hyper they rammed into their cage and their faces were permanently squashed as a result.

"Oh, bugger," I hear Fred say, a little way away from me. I turn around to see what he's talking about, only to be hit in the head with it- literally.

The entire roof is crumbling now, along with the walls. It's awesome- like being in a really old building that's collapsing. I'm just about to comment on it to Lee, except he says it first and then both of the twins look at each other and sigh, hitting him on the head.

Jeez. Just because they're smart little evil geniuses.

"Out! Now!" Snape just manages to finish his little screaming rampage, before the entire room falls down on us. Well, what's left of it, anyway.

It's dark. There is an incessant pressure on my hand, which is going to cut off my circulation at any moment, and I have just swallowed a whole pile of stone dust. Yippee.

"Katie?" The voice is muffled, but I think it's Lee. Or maybe Ange. Can't tell, really… I'm not saying that Angelina sounds like a man, or anything. Well, yeah, I am. But in a good way, of course… She'll kill me if she ever finds out I said that.

"Yeah?" I reply, spitting out various assortments of dust, exploded cake and even what feels like bits of scarf. When I get out from under half a tonne of rock, I am seriously going to make sure the scarf-wearer is incapacitated for the rest of their life. Of course, knowing my luck, it's probably a green and silver scarf that is currently blocking the oxygen from my lungs.

"If you don't get your elbow out of my ear right now…" Oh yeah. Definitely Ange. She only threatens me because she's a bazillion inches taller than I am, and older than me. I don't know why that's such an advantage in these circumstances, but it is.

"Okay, okay…" Getting my elbow out of Ange's ear proves to be something of a challenge, especially when I hear a yelp from someone somewhere near my feet. I hope it was Fred, and that I kicked him in the shin. It's all his fault we're stuck under a pile of Stone-Age bricks, anyway.

"Who just kicked me in the head?"

Oh, shit. The unmistakable voice of Severus Snape (you can't just say Snape, his full name is so catchy…) greets me. I just kicked a (suspected, and only by three-quarters of the student population at Hogwarts) Death Eater in the head.

Now my shoe will be covered in grease forever. On the bright side, I'll never have to clean my school shoes as long as I live. On the down side, my shoelaces were wet from all the cake batter, and untied, so they would have just slapped Snape in the face. Resulting in him not exactly being charitable with his actions towards me… On the bright side, I'll be able to tell everyone that those red lines on Snape's face? Yeah, I made them!

"It wasn't me!" I blurt out, realising too late that by saying that, I was practically admitting saying, "Yes, it was I who kicked you in your god-ugly head! What are you going to do about it?" … Well, I'd have liked to say that, anyway.

"Miss Bell?" The thing about Snape is that he doesn't have to yell to get across how angry he is. He just has to lower his voice and hiss. Like a Snake. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he was one of those people who talk to them. You know, a Parcel-tongue… Present-mouth… Whatever. One of them, anyway.

"Er…" Should I admit that it was me? It's not like he doesn't know it was, anyway. Oh well. Before I can decide, my mouth makes the decision for me. "No!" Good one, Katie. Lie to a scary teacher with scary hair and an even scarier face. That's a smart move.

Not.

You know that moment when your faith in humanity is suddenly restored? When you just gape and go, "Oh, so there are people out there who care about things other than getting the latest broom or winning a Quidditch match or seeing other people get in trouble!" When someone does something so nice it's sickening, and then everybody else follows?

"No, Professor, I did it." It's a voice that sounds irritatingly familiar, like one of those people that have a high priority on your 'To Hit' list. You know the kind. The one person that you can't stand to listen to for more than three seconds without walking away and going, "Wow, what a loser!"

In my case, it's Jessica White.

I can't believe it. Why does she keep coming up in my life? Can't she just leave me alone and go back to her- well, whatever it is that she does when not making my life miserable. And here she is saving my arse- an arse that she thinks looks like a man's, in any case. (Don't ask. It was a particular conversation I overheard not that long ago… I was scarred for life.)

"No, Professor, I did it!" Another voice mimics. Soon everyone is shouting, "No, Professor, I did it!"

Hahaha. I bet Snape's so confused he doesn't know what to believe. In fact, I have a mental vision of him emerging from the rocks, squinting against the light (because, after all, everyone knows he's a vampire) and screaming, "Everyone kicked me in my god-ugly head! But only one person kicked me!" And then he goes mental trying to figure it out. Yeah… I'm really liking that idea right now.

"Any survivors?" The tone is brisk, and it's clear enough so that I know it's not from under the rocks. In fact, that voice also sounds irritatingly familiar…

It's George who figures it out first. "Percy?" He asks incredulously. Then he groans. "Figures you'd be the one to pull us from a twisted wreckage of mass proportions."

Er, okay, George. That's normal…

"Oh." The other voice is flat. "It figures that my entire Quidditch team would be strewn amongst a collapsed building! Now they won't be able to play in the next game! I'm calling it off!" The next thing I hear is the frantic footsteps of Oliver Wood, obviously rushing to find Madam Hooch or something.

He is so going to die of high blood pressure. Well, that and malnutrition. He won't even let me eat a freaking pancake. I told him that they're essential for life, but for some reason he didn't believe me…

"You forgot Harry," Alicia croaks, from somewhere near my armpit.

"Where did Wood go?" McGonagall asks, and I silently cheer. She can just lift all the rocks by magic, we can all come out unscratched and go on to our common room to relax before dinner.

"He rushed off, selfishly leaving these poor people in need of rescuing," Percy answers primly. He is so going to be murdered. Well, that and he'll die of high blood pressure as well, because he won't get Minister of Magic because he'll actually work for it.

"I sent you two down because I trusted you. Obviously you can't be trusted to comfort a fellow housemate…" McGonagall says to him.

I can't hear Percy's response, but it sounds something like, "The Quidditch match was months ago, honestly…" I hear you, Percy. I hear you.

"You take that section, and I'll take this section… I trust you know what charm to use?" McGonagall asks, but Percy is evidently still sulking because his muttered reply is too low to hear.

Soon I can hear the sounds of rocks being lifted, and people gasping for air and crying, "Light! How I love thee!" You know. Just generally being grateful, and kissing the hem of the robes of their rescuer.

But even though they're free, we're not. I think it's pretty much only Fred, George, Lee, Angelina, Alicia, me and, of course, Snape that's still under. And quite possibly Jess White, too, because I can't hear her piercing voice yet.

"Mr Weasley! Why haven't you released these students yet?" McGonagall demands, making annoyed little noises.

"Well, er, I don't know the spell," Percy admits sheepishly, and I can hear Fred and George crack up laughing. They'll never let him live it down, now. I almost feel sorry for poor old Percy. Except, you know, he's Percy.

"Why didn't you say so?" She says, aggrieved, and promptly mutters something under her breath that causes all the rocks on top of us to float in the air.

Of course, I have to hit my head on one as I stand up. Jeez, McGonagall. You'd think that she could make them all float eight feet in the air. But apparently not.

As everyone congratulates each other on not dying, I see McGonagall walk over to Snape. Naturally, I sidle up, hoping to hear something interesting.

"What's that on your face, Severus?" McGonagall asks, glancing at the angry red welts directly across Snape's face. The welts that I put there. The welts that Jessica White took responsibility for.

Speaking of her, I guess I should go… I don't know. Say thanks? She's standing in what used to be the corner, brushing non-existent dust from her robes. "Uh… thanks," I say awkwardly. Is there some sort of thank-you gesture I should use? I've never really had to say it before.

She arches an eyebrow at me. "That's okay." Then, as if she's just dismissed me, she goes back to brushing dust off of her robes.

I turn to go back to my friends, who are looking over towards me and Jess excitedly, clearly expecting a fight. But then I whirl around, surprising even Jess who was obviously watching me go. "Why'd you do it? It's not as if I care what Snape thinks of me." That was a subtle hint that Jess is a teacher's pet and she should really just get over Snape and hate him like everybody else.

She shrugs defiantly. "I didn't do it for you, if that's what you mean." It's not, but I'm not about to correct her. Some other sucker can tell her that we hate her and she should really stop kissing the teacher's robes if she knows what's good for her. "I- I felt sorry for you," she says, changing what she was about to say.

I smirk at her. "You felt sorry for me?" It's a new one. No one's ever said that to me before.

She glances away. "Yeah. So what?"

Well. Why did you feel sorry for me? I can't really say that, though, because she's made it clear that she doesn't want to talk about it. Well, then, I won't. "Okay. Well… thanks." I nod at her, then turn around. She is so strange.

Fred looks disappointed when I go and stand next to him. "How come you didn't have another fight?" He asks, scratching his head.

I shrug. "I felt sorry for her. After all," I half-smirk, before my allergic reaction suddenly decides it wants attention and cuts off my oxygen supply, "everyone knows I could beat her with my irreverent sense of wit and intellect." Then I promptly pass out.

A/N: Oh my God, how quickly did I update? Anyways, I meant to say this last chapter, but I forgot. I wrote a new little one shot (okay, so it isn't exactly little…) called In Cold Blood, if anyone feels like checking it out. It's about Alicia, but be warned: the general opinion seems to be that it's depressing. Don't worry, it won't make you want to jump off a cliff or anything… It's not that bad.

Okay, so next chapter Katie meets Lee's parents. I haven't written it yet, but I've planned it in my mind… So, unfortunately, it will probably turn out the complete opposite, but that's okay. Don't forget to push the little button on the way out… :D