Artimus thought his heart would pound right through his chest. He took a ragged breath, trying unsuccessfully to calm himself. All the stories Jimmy had told him about the Slytherins churned in his mind. Their racism, their bullying, their ties to the Dark Lord.
According to Jimmy, Draco Malfoy was the worst of the bunch.
And now he had to partner with a girl who shared his last name.
"Come on, now," Miss Venatici said. "This class doesn't last forever. Get with your partner and pick your project."
Artimus swallowed. Slowly, he rose from his seat.
"Art."
He turned to Jimmy, who wore a very serious expression.
"Watch your ass," he said under his breath.
Artimus nodded. With tremors running down his legs, he walked hesitantly toward the back of the classroom where Cecilia Malfoy sat.
The girl stared at him. Artimus detected no hint of a smile, no warmth in her eyes. Just . . . well, he wouldn't call it evil. Cecilia just seemed to be silently appraising him.
He held his breath, wondering what she must be thinking of him.
Artimus stopped next to her desk. Several seconds passed without a word.
"Well. Are you going to sit down?" Cecilia spoke in a flat tone.
Artimus barely nodded. He lowered himself into an empty desk next to Cecilia. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted Jimmy. His friend ignored Audrie Sexton, who chatted rather excitedly at him, and met his eyes.
Just play it cool. Like Jimmy does.
"So you're a friend of O'Bannon's."
Artimus whipped around to face Cecilia. Was she pumping him for information? For what purpose? He wondered if he should answer her.
Well, it's not really a secret Jimmy and I are friends.
"Yes," he muttered.
Cecilia's face stayed neutral. She leaned back in her seat. "He's not very popular among those in my House."
Artimus just nodded. Where was she going with all this?
"I thought no one in the world could irritate my cousin Draco more than Harry Potter. But your friend managed to succeed. He still says the name 'Jimmy O'Bannon' as if he was spitting venom."
Artimus took another look back at Jimmy. He couldn't believe this girl's cousin could be so hung up on one hockey game.
Before he could figure out how to respond, pieces of parchment flew across the classroom and landed on the desks. Artimus picked up his piece and scanned the possible topics.
THE CAPE ANN INCIDENT: THE LAST ATTEMPT TO BRING TOGETHER THE MUGGLE AND WIZARDING WORLDS.
THE USE OF MAGIC IN THE BATTLE OF TRENTON.
THE WEREWOLF PARANOIA OF 1752.
THE ARREST OF SECRETARY OF MAGIC DAEDALUS DIBBLEDETT IN 1894.
Artimus was staring at WAR WITH THE ADIRONDACK MOUNTAIN GIANTS, 1803-1806 when it suddenly vanished. Someone must have picked it.
Another topic vanished . . . and another . . . and another.
"Well?" Cecilia sounded annoyed. "Are we going to pick one before they're all gone?"
"Um . . . okay. Which one are you interested in?"
Cecilia shrugged. "I don't know anything about American Wizarding history. You pick something."
Artimus looked back down at the parchment. More topics disappeared. His heart raced faster. He had to pick something.
Or what? Do you really think she'll hex you if you pick a topic she doesn't like?
From the way Jimmy talked about the Slytherins, he wouldn't put it past her.
"Um . . . okay. How about Magic and the Battle of Trenton?"
Artimus' neck muscles tightened. He stared at Cecilia, waiting for approval or disapproval. Her face, however, was unreadable.
"Fine," she muttered.
Artimus felt the tension melt from his body. "Okay. So, um . . . how should we . . ."
"Why are you so frightened of me?"
His entire body froze. Artimus aimed an unblinking stare at Cecilia. Was he that transparent? Dammit, why couldn't he hide his emotions like Jimmy did during hockey games?
"Um . . . I'm not." The words sounded unconvincing even to him.
Now Cecilia leaned forward. "Just what the hell has O'Bannon been saying about me?"
Jimmy's words echoed through Artimus' head. "Watch your ass."
"Why are you so interested in Jimmy?"
"Because if I'm going to be at this school for the next few months, I'd like to know what sort of stories he's telling about me, my family, my House. I'd also like to be prepared for any potential trouble from him or any other students here, so I can deal with it if necessary."
A determined look crossed Cecilia's face. She aimed a penetrating gaze at Artimus.
A shiver went up his spine.
XXXXX
O'Bannon sighed as he trudged up the wide wooden staircase, his bookbag slung over his shoulder. The teachers sure didn't waste time piling homework and projects on everyone their very first day back at Salem. Hell, he couldn't remember a time during the previous six years he'd had so much school work.
No one said Seventh Year would be easy . . . dammit.
He hit the landing and turned right, noticing a servant elf cleaning one of the double casement windows. O'Bannon's mind churned, trying to figure out how to get all this work done . . . and on top of that, put together the Blazenrowe hockey team.
And as if I don't have enough to deal with, there are the Slytherin chicks.
Artimus pulled him aside after History of Magic and told him about his conversation with Cecilia Malfoy. O'Bannon didn't like all the interest Draco's cousin showed in him.
The back of his neck tingled. Was Cecilia up to something? Was she simply being an annoying buttmunch like all Slytherins? Could it be nothing more than idle curiosity?
O'Bannon doubted that, not with someone who bore the last name of Malfoy.
He used his wand to unlock the door to his dorm room. O'Bannon walked across the silver carpeting and chucked his bookbag onto one of the four king-sized beds. Above the backboard hung two banners, the silver and blue one for the Salem Witches Institute, and the red and gold one for Gryffindor House. They were flanked by a pair of non-moving posters, one with former Boston Bruin Bobby Orr in mid-flight of "The Shot" from the 1970 Stanley Cup Championship, the other of Boston Red Sox shortstop Nomar Garciaparra swinging for the fences.
O'Bannon plopped into the chair in front of his rolltop desk. He pulled out a postcard from one of the drawers and reached for his ink bottle and quill. Time to write to Fred and George and find out why the hell two Slytherins were at Salem. Hopefully they'd know.
And if they do, why the hell didn't they write to me before the semester started?
O'Bannon started to write, shaking his head. It would take days for his owl Espo to reach England and return with the twins' reply. The pureblood snobs and racists could say what they wanted to about Muggles, but at least a Muggle could send a message across the world in the blink of an eye thanks to a neat little thing called e-mail.
You'd think the Wizarding World would come up with its own version of it.
Then again, the Wizarding World still hadn't discovered the wonders of the friggin' ballpoint pen.
O'Bannon had just finished his second sentence when something tapped on the window. He got up and walked toward it.
A little brown owl was perched on the window sill, flapping its wings. O'Bannon's eyes widened in recognition.
"Pigwidgeon?"
He opened the window. The owl flew inside, dropped a postcard and a small red box on his desk, and landed beside them.
"Boy, am I glad to see you." He stroked Ron Weasley's owl on the head. The bird cooed softly. O'Bannon plucked a treat from a slot in his desk. "Pig" greedily took it from his hand.
O'Bannon picked up the postcard, which showed the village square of Hogsmeade covered in snow. He turned it over and read the short message.
Jimmy Boy,
Things are wonderful at Hogwarts. Hope you're doing well on your side of the pond. Go Bruins!
Your pals,
Fred & George Weasley
O'Bannon flipped over the postcard and studied it.
Where is it? Where is it?
He spent nearly ten minutes carefully scanning the postcard, both praising and cursing the twins for their cleverness.
Finally he found it. In the marble base of the statue he spotted the outline of a pair of skates tied together. O'Bannon pulled out his wand and tapped the outline three times.
"Triad!"
The picture of Hogsmeade dissolved, replaced by lines of fancy script.
O'Bannon grinned. The whole process of getting to the twins' real message could be a pain in the ass, having to find a hockey object hidden in the postcard, tap it with a wand and utter the constantly changing code word. But given the current situation, neither he or Fred and George wanted their messages falling into the wrong hands.
The words scrolled up the postcard as O'Bannon read.
Jimmy Boy,
If you are reading this, I will assume you have recovered, at least partially, from the shock of having two Slytherins walking around your school. I wish we could have told you about this before you returned to Salem, unfortunately we found out about Serinta Sejant and Cecilia Malfoy heading your way after our first day of classes.
This should come as no surprise, but Professor Dumbledore had nothing to do with this. Like he would really send a couple Slytherins abroad to represent Hogwarts. This was all the work of the school's Board of Governors. And when I say Board of Governors, I mean Cecilia's charming (please picture me saying that with much sarcasm dripping from my tongue) Uncle Lucius. He claims since Cecelia and Serinta have consistently been at the top of their class since their First Year, they earned the right to study abroad for one term. Our "brother" whose name starts with the same letter as the words "Prat" and "Pussface" applied to study abroad during his Fifth Year. The whole process took months to shake out. But these two get to be exchange students simply at the whim of Draco's slimebag father? As the Muggles would say, "Something's rotting in Denmark."
O'Bannon chuckled softly, as he usually did when purebloods butchered classic Muggle expressions.
He read on.
Oh, by the way, that particular brother, who from now on we shall refer to as "That Gimboid," didn't qualify to study abroad, wallowed in misery, and subjected the rest of us to said misery.
The handwriting changed slightly.
Come on, Fred. You've written enough. My turn. Hello, Jimmy. George here. I guess you'd like to know the inside scoop on Miss Sejant and Miss Malfoy. Unfortunately, even though they're in our year, we really don't know much about them. Let's face it, why would two dashing, upstanding Gryffindors like us associate with two tramps from Slytherin?
Here, here! Well, said George.
Thank you, Fred. Anyway, the most I can tell you about Serinta Sejant is she's an absolute bitch. I've never seen her smile once in my seven years here. She may do it when she's pulling the ears off puppies, but I have never personally witnessed such an act. As for Cecilia . . . well, she's a Malfoy. What more do I need to say? Although, I've rarely seen her with Draco. Rumor has it they're not particularly close. Then again, this is the Malfoy family. Love and togetherness don't seem very high on their priority list.
As to why Draco's dad sent them to Salem, your guess is as good as mine. Again, rumor has it Lucius Malfoy is still hot that we beat his pwecious widdle Dwaco in our hockey game. Being embarrassed by Muggle-borns and "blood traitors" doesn't sit too well with that family. You may want to keep that in mind. Or, I have heard Dad and Bill mention that the sons and daughters of Death Eaters may be used to recruit fellow students to You-Know-Who's side. Both of Serinta's parents were Death Eaters. Her mum died in the last war, but her dad is still in Azkaban. Cecilia . . . again, last name Malfoy. You know where that family stands.
My turn now, George. Well, Jimmy Boy, now that you're up to speed on your new classmates, it's time to tell you our tale of woe. As if Harry's hearing before the Ministry wasn't bad enough, most of the students here are buying all the rubbish put out by the Daily Prophet. They think he's lying about You-Know-Who's return. Actually, a lot of people think Harry's gone mad. And to make matters worse, the Ministry forced this fat, toad-faced hag on us as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Keeps insisting everything is just wonderful with the world and doesn't teach us anything useful. And Merlin help anyone who crosses her. I really miss Mad-Eye Moody. Okay, it really wasn't Mad-Eye who taught us, but I'd rather have that imposter back than this Umbridge cow.
Now, Fred. There is some good news to report. Well, good news depending on your point of view. Hermione was named one of the new Gryffindor prefects.
O'Bannon nodded. That didn't come as a surprise. He felt a pang of sympathy for Fred, George and Lee Jordan. He doubted Hermione would tolerate their antics now that she had a prefect's badge.
And the other one . . . I hope you're sitting down for this. Ickle Ronniekins was made a prefect!
O'Bannon's jaw dropped. Ron Weasley? A prefect?
He musta banged someone to get that job.
Well, hopefully being a prefect would give help give Ron a boost in his confidence, an area in which the poor guy was sorely lacking.
Oh! Also, we sent you one of our Surprising Snackboxes. Basically, we throw all our candy into a bowl, pull out a few pieces, and stick them in a box. We don't even know exactly what's in it. Pass it around Salem and report to us what happens.
That's all for now, Jimmy. Always keep at least one eye on those Slytherin girls. I'm sure they're concocting some scheme to make your life miserable. Hey, they are Slytherin. That's what they do.
Your Pals,
Fred & George Weasley
P.S. The next code word is "Canadiens Suck!"
O'Bannon grinned at that one. That was a code he'd easily remember. As a Bruins fan, he felt the same way about the Montreal Canadiens as the average Gryffindor does about Slytherin House.
"Hang here for a minute, Pig." He gave the owl another treat and sat down to reply to Fred and George's message.
The door opened.
O'Bannon slapped a hand down on the twins' postcard and whipped around.
He relaxed when he saw Jared and Rosa enter.
"Whoa, relax." Rosa held up her hands. "It's just us."
"Sorry. I just got a postcard from our favorite redheads."
Rosa's eyes lit up. So did Jared's. He quickly shut the door. O'Bannon cast a Muffling Charm taught to him by Rosa so no one outside the room could eavesdrop on them.
"So do they know about the snake girls?" Rosa strode over to O'Bannon's desk.
He handed her the postcard. Jared stood next to her as they both read it.
"Dude, do you really think Draco's old man would send these two chicks here to mess with you because of a game of hockey?"
O'Bannon took the postcard from Jared and answered him. "Yeah, I know. It sounds petty. But from everything Harry told me about Lucius Malfoy, I'd believe it. Here's a perfect analogy. Did I ever tell you guys about Hank Aaron?"
The cousins shook their heads.
"He's Major League Baseball's all-time home run leader. But when he was going for that record in the early Seventies, a lot of people in this country didn't want him to get it. They even sent him a ton of death threats."
Rosa canted her head. "Just because he was going for this home run record?"
"Actually, it had more to do with his skin color. Aaron's black. And at the time, a lot of people hated the idea of a black man breaking a record held by a white man . . . that white man being Babe Ruth. So yeah, I can easily see a jagoff like Draco's dad messing with me because of a game of hockey. Only here you can replace black and white with pureblood and Muggle-born."
O'Bannon tossed the twins' postcard into the air and aimed his wand at it.
"Ustilo!"
The postcard vanished in a flash of flame. Just another precaution to make sure the wrong people didn't read it. As the ashes fluttered to the floor, O'Bannon noticed Jared fold his arms and shake his head.
"I don't know, man. I mean, with You-Know-Who back, you'd figure Lucius Malfoy would have more important things to do than stay pissed about some hockey game his kid lost."
O'Bannon softly groaned. Why the hell couldn't Jared take his word for it?
"Whatever the reason," Rosa jumped in. "After reading that postcard, there's no way Cecilia's and Serinta's being here is completely innocent."
"Well, you're the one who wants to be an auror." Jared turned to her. "How do we find out what they're up to?"
Rosa worked her jaw back and forth. "Well . . . we could place an Extendable Ear outside their room and listen in whenever they're together."
"Yeah, but what if they have a Muffling Charm around their room like us?" Jared pointed out.
Rosa frowned.
Silence hung over the room. O'Bannon slouched in his seat and rested his chin between his thumb and index finger. Think, man. Think!
"Man . . ." Jared threw out his hands. "There's gotta be a way to . . ." He stopped and stared at O'Bannon's desk. "Yo, Jimmy. Where did you get the candy?"
O'Bannon turned and laid his eyes on Fred and George's Surprising Snackbox. He bit his lower lip as an idea formed.
No. I shouldn't.
"Oh . . . um, my mom musta threw it in my trunk before I left. Musta wanted it to be a surprise. Help yourself."
Jared smiled and opened the box. He took one piece for himself and handed another to Rosa.
"Jimmy?" He offered him a piece.
"No, that's okay." O'Bannon tried to keep his voice steady and not laugh. "I don't want to spoil my dinner."
"Whatever." Jared shrugged. He then turned to Rosa.
"Cheers."
They tapped their pieces together and popped them in their mouths.
O'Bannon clenched teeth. Laughter bubbled in his mouth, begging for release.
"So," Jared began after he swallowed his candy. "Going back to how to find out what the snake girls are up to. I take it asking them straight up won't do it."
"And they'll probably get suspicious if they see any of us following them around," Rosa said.
The barely contained laughter within O'Bannon evaporated. He suddenly sat up straight in his chair.
"Not all of us."
The cousins looked at him. "What do you mean?" Rosa asked.
"Artimus. He's Cecilia Malfoy's partner in History of Magic. They'll be around each other all the time. He's the perfect one to do a little spying for us."
Jared emitted a long sigh. "Do you think he's up to that?"
"He'll have to be."
"Look, Jimmy," Rosa began. "I love Art, but you know he can . . . can . . ."
Rosa face tightened. Her head trembled. O'Bannon thought she was about to puke.
"Rosa." Jared put a hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"
Rosa's eyes popped open. Her body blew up like a balloon. Huge elephant ears dangled from her head, still decorated with her usual amount of earrings and studs. Her nose grew into an elephant trunk.
"What the f . . . f . . . ah . . . ahhhh . . ."
Jared put an arm to his face and sneezed.
A thick stream of snot exploded from his nose. Green mucus ricocheted off his arm, splattering onto the wall, the beds, the desks, an irate Pigwidgeon . . .
And Rosa.
O'Bannon fell off his chair, ignoring the snot staining his robes and hair, and howled hysterically.
"Yo, what the hell?!" Jared's voice went up an octave.
O'Bannon was on all fours, trying to talk while cackling. "I forgot . . . they weren't from my mom . . . they came . . ." He fell on his side, convulsing with laughter. "They're from . . . they're from Fred and George."
Now O'Bannon was almost hyperventilating. "Oh man . . . oh God. Oh, I needed a good laugh."
Rosa and Jared glared at him.
"Oh, come on. It was just a jo . . ."
The cousins pulled out their wands.
O'Bannon stopped laughing. "Oh crap."
The hexes hit him before he could scramble to his feet.
O'Bannon spent the next hour in the school's infirmary where the school nurse worked to rid him of the moss covering his face and the seaweed growing out his ears and nose.
TO BE CONTINUED
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I figured, for once, I should have a humorous ending to one of my chapters. But from here on out, things get pretty darn serious.