Roz: Well, this took a while (read: a few months) but I thought I'd try and address some issues brought up in the reviews. There is, as requested, more dialog and more description and I've let us tag along with Harry and Co. a great deal more, which was, I will say, a great deal easier once everyone was acquainted with everyone else. The only problem was that once I got started with the description I just kept going, so I didn't get as much done in the page amount as I'd been hoping to. *sigh* Oh well, that just means more chapters, eh? At any rate, enjoy the read.

ZR: .............................. somehow I just can't come up with a response to that. Roz you are... I don't really know how to put it... so I won't. Anyways a belated thank you is due to my precious little sister for beta-ing my chapters. So on with the show...

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Chapter 8: M is for Muggle

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The morning air held in it the type of kinetic energy that makes magical creatures dance in anticipation of something wonderful, the kind of air that tickles the throat as it's inhaled and pleasantly burns the lungs, that sticks to the skin like so much muggle sludge and makes you squirm, the kind of air in which evil and good commingle and are moved to a snarling truce- the kind of air that precedes something both terrible and beautiful. A sudden gust spiraled from the heavens and whirled merrily down to the grounds of Hogwarts University, rustling the untamed auburn lockes of Hermione Granger as she ran breathlessly to meet her long time companions, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, who were at the moment staring intently at the first round Quidditch game schedule with a mixture of disgust and anticipation. The schedule, a long piece of fresh parchment with newly drawn charts detailing the first three matches and the primary players for each team involved, was surrounded by students, each jostling the others for a prime position in front where names were easily decipherable and the blackberry ink Dean Palmerdore had used to draft the document scented the air like a young girl's first bottle of perfume. A sharp elbow connecting with her lower back sent Hermione through the throng of students in a flurry of grey robes, giving her a direct route to the stone wall onto which the game schedule was posted. Fortunately, a pair of strong hands, calloused from several Quidditch seasons and too many adventures to count reached forward in response to a Keeper's honed reflexes and grasped her waist, pulling her away from the wall just moments before impact. "Don't worry 'Mione, I've got you."

"Careful there Mudblood, we wouldn't want you breaking your nose." At the fringe of the crowd stood Draco Malfoy, pale arms crossed over his chest, his lips curled into a defiant sneer that all wizards who had ever had the displeasure of dealing with the Malfoy family recognized as one the wizarding family put to use on a daily basis.

"Bugger off Malfoy," Ron growled low in his throat, pulling a fuming Hermione closer to keep her from lashing out at Malfoy and endeavoring to claw his eyes out for the third time that week. Nearby, Harry Potter was using the crowd's distraction to give him the opportunity to give the schedule a thorough reading, grinning as he noted that both he and Ron had made the Gryffindor team as Beater and Keeper respectively and that, despite his endless bragging that his father could buy him anything he wanted, Draco Malfoy had failed to make it onto the Slytherin House team.

"Going to perfect the art of spectatorship this year Malfoy? I didn't notice your name on the Slytherin team roster." Harry managed not to laugh in his rival's face when he saw a flash of pain flitter through Draco's ice blue eyes and be absorbed into the frozen heart of the Malfoy heir, though the Gryffindor couldn't help the smirk that thinned his lips into a nearly sinister line as he thought of Draco resigned to sitting in the stands with those the Slytherin had once called "untalented wastes of skin."

"Quidditch bores me, Scarhead, I can't imagine why you still play that child's game." Draco's posture straightened as he looked out imperiously over the crowd, his eyes catching the jade gaze of the Britholden prefect who shook her head and offered him a smile of sympathy before she turned from the crowd, heading off on whatever business she had for the day, leaving Draco to look to the disgusted scowl of his cousin Severa before she turned to follow her prefect down the corridor and, though Draco knew of Severa's severe dislike for authority, he seemed to sense a certain amount of caution emanating from her when she was near her prefect as though she wasn't particularly convinced that Vesdemort was worthy of her respect but was unwilling to go against the prefect for purposes of self preservation. Ignoring the inane chatter that prattled on behind him like an unchecked river, Draco gathered his evergreen robes about him and stalked off in the direction the two Britholden girls had traveled, curious as to what mischief the house was up to now and, in particular, what part his cousin had to play in the ordeal.

"Where's he going?" Ron asked his friends as they slowly fought their way out of the nimbus of students surrounding the now less-than-fresh schedule.

"Who cares?" Hermione's voice, though not bitter, was coated in the exhaustion she felt every time she was forced to be in the same room with the Malfoy heir who, even after seven years of Mudblood jokes and violent shoves and all manner of despicable comments, did not seem to tire of making her life miserable; she was only thankful that no one seemed to feel that gawking or unnecessary sympathy was warranted by Malfoy's displays. Hermione took in the excited faces of her fellow students and she wondered, nor for the first time, what would become of the wizarding world when people like Draco Malfoy, who seemed to be a more sinister, though less tactful replica of his father, Lucius Malfoy, came into power. Harry Potter could not save them forever, nor could any of the Professors who, as time drew on, were getting older and older. A time would come, Hermione surmised, when the wizarding world would go the way of muggle society; too caught up in the mundane and in the struggle for power to recall its desire to better itself and to harness magic for the benefit of all, wizards and muggles alike.

"Come on 'Mione, let's go get some lunch," Ron called from Harry's side, the two had already moved a considerable distance away from the mob and were heading to the Hall for a light lunch.

"We've got the season's first match," Harry informed Hermione as they walked. It seemed to Harry that fate was evoking some sort of irony in the season's first round of games, pitting Gryffindor against Hufflepuff in the first match which, he assumed, would serve to either cement Gryffindor's loyalties to the Great Triumvirate, as Slytherins were calling the union of Slytherin, Britholden, and Gryffindor, or shatter the newly formed bond of camaraderie and bring forth Gryffindor's demise. If the Gryffindor team were to shirk in the game, Slytherin and Britholden would take it as an attempt to aid Hufflepuff who had been chattering on about their chances of winning the Quidditch Bowl which, in all honesty weren't particularly high seeing as the Hufflepuff house team hadn't won the Quidditch Bowl for at least 200 years and hadn't even made it to semifinals in the last 75. However, the fact still remained that if the Gryffindor team didn't give the match their all instead of simply putting forth enough effort to win the match, the wrath of Slytherin and Britholden would be upon them and not only would all of their players suffer serious, if not fatal injuries whenever playing against the sinister houses, but Gryffindor house at large would become labeled as traitors and outcast from University society. "It's against Hufflepuff," Harry added after a long, pregnant pause.

"Sweet Merlin!" Hermione gasped, adjusting the fall of her cloak so that it was no longer choking her. Though she enjoyed the freedom the University gave regarding dress she found the University's standard cloak to be cut a bit too close to the neck for her liking and the shoulders were cut in such a way that the cloak slipped about when she walked quickly or ran, causing the collar to choke her..

"Easy win," Ron commented, wrapping an arm around Hermione's shoulders after looking about to make sure Cleo wasn't around. The Piagera prefect had been stalking Ron and Hermione around the campus, leaping out of bushes and running around corners to interrupt any private time the two might have had together and although Ron could understand Cleo's reasoning, he would've done the same were it Hermione that had been injured, enough was enough. Ron was really getting quite tired of the mini heart attacks and the spilled beverages and, worst of all, wasted food, and the next time Cleo came barreling down a hall to stop him from kissing his girlfriend he was going to introduce the prefect's face to his fist and the nice, large emerald ring thereon, a rather gaudy piece of jewelry which had been passed down through the Weasley family for generations and had been given to him by his father upon receipt of Ron's invitation to University.

"I wouldn't count on that," Harry whispered, knowing that Hermione and Ron would be too caught up in one another to hear his nearly silent reply. Hufflepuff was by no means a house full of imbeciles and simpletons, it was full of many different wizards and witches from various backgrounds, some of them well meaning and others...not so much, and Harry was willing to bet his broomstick that the more nefarious members of Hufflepuff house were preparing something truly wicked for the upcoming Quidditch match.

*****

"Mister Malfoy, it's quite rude to follow people around, not to mention dangerous. One might think you were a stalker or a mugger of some sort and then where would you be?" Lucinda Riddle stopped her calm stride, holding her hand up to signal to Severa that their hitherto silent walk through the school would be taking a pause while she dealt with Severa's cousin. "But at any rate, to what do we owe the...pleasure of your company?" Lucinda had no real problems with the Malfoy heir, save his insistence that he was superior to everything under the sun, a trait she found reflected in his cousin Severa, but Frances had been bothering her more than usual lately and her ill temper seemed to be spreading to create a general displeasure with humanity as a whole, save a few select wizards and witches who had long ago gained her admiration, such as Professors Dragnon and Snape.

"I was wondering, Miss Vesdemort, if the rumors I heard about you assisting Potter with his Potions assignment were true." The glint in Draco's eyes indicated that the Slytherin was asking for reasons more pressing than mere curiosity and, given the fact that he'd scored poorly on his first Potions exam, a snippet of information Lucinda had garnered from her first year girls, the Britholden prefect was willing to bet that Draco was fishing about for a tutor.

Smirking, Severa watched the interplay between her prefect and her cousin, noting the slight twitch in Draco's left eye as he stood for long moments on end while Vesdemort contemplated his discomfort, no doubt taking some sort of pleasure in it, much as she was herself. Despite several long conversations with the New Zealander, Severa was still unsure of her thoughts on the Britholden prefect, if only because she seemed to be constantly switching personalities. One moment she was quiet and sullen, the next outgoing and bubbly, and then downright evil the next; not that Severa minded the changes, it kept her on her mental toes, but it made figuring the woman out a rather frustrating ordeal that she wasn't sure she cared to partake in anymore.

"You heard correctly," Vesdemort replied at last, taking note that Severa was quite pleased to see Draco squirming where he stood, fidgeting with the hem of his robe, a wondrous, deep green thing. "And why, may I ask, would you be interested in that particular snippet of information, Mr. Malfoy? Could it be that you are not doing as well in Potions as your father might want and, in order to keep in his good graces you are planning to sabotage all other Potions projects in your class so that your projects will be weighted above all others and you'll receive top marks?"

Draco balked at the prefect, her plan not having crossed his mind before but, now that he thought about it, sabotaging the other students' projects seemed to be a much better idea than asking the prefect for assistance, save that the tricky woman would probably inform Professor Snape of his intentions and ruin the entire endeavor.

"Get on with asking her for help, Draco, I'm beginning to burn in the sun," Severa grumbled, wrapping her robes about her in order to cover more of her pale, delicate skin while swearing silently to herself that, if she did, in fact burn, she was going to see to it that Lucius found out about his son's poor performance in Potions before term grades came.

"I planned to do no such thing, Severa," Draco huffed back, an embarrassed flush coming across his pale features and betraying his lie. In an uncharacteristic moment of pity, Lucinda smiled at the first year Slytherin before turning to Severa and dismissing her with a few flicks of her wrist.

"Now then, Mr. Malfoy, perhaps you can speak the truth out of prying ears, hmm?" The Britholden prefect motioned for Draco to fall in step with her, which he readily did, before continuing her walk around the grounds though, after a good five minutes had passed, Draco still had not addressed her and she was beginning to get annoyed. "How are you getting on with your housemates, Mr. Malfoy? I wager they're a bit different than you're used to dealing with, having been plucked from such a diverse field."

"I was quite disappointed in them, to be honest, so many of them carry such tainted bloodlines, if you understand me." Draco's nose curled at the thought of all the Mudbloods scampering around Slytherin house, putting their dirty Mudblood hands on everything, leaving a thin residue of Mudblood sweat on the couches. Disgusting.

Lucinda frowned at Draco's barely veiled insult to the Muggle-born population of the University, resisting the urge to take her wand and poke one of the blonde's eyes out with it before leveling a cruciatus on him. Though she was a Pureblood herself, Lucinda hadn't the capacity for the unqualified hatred that the other members of her family had for Muggle-borns, she simply viewed them as individuals who, unlike herself, weren't gifted with the advantage of magical parents. "That subject is best not bridged with me, Mr. Malfoy, I don't believe you would enjoy the result."

"Miss Vesdemort, where have you been!?" Lucinda's right eyebrow began to twitch in a moment of irritation as Luna's high voice rose high in the air, assaulting all eardrums it reached. The fourth year Britholden ran up to her friend and grabbed her right arm, yanking it back in the direction Lucinda and Draco had just traveled from, oblivious to the obvious irritation on the prefect's face and the amusement on Draco's. "Professor Dragnon has been trying to find you for an hour and a half and if you don't get back to the house soon she's going to have a fit!"

"It would seem that our discussion will have to reconvene at a more convenient time, Draco, my apologies." With a shrill whistle Lucinda held out her hand and her broom, an Infinity named Maelstrom that was well worn, though Lucinda refused to replace it for sentimental reasons, came ripping through the air to her side, ready for her to board so they could be off to Britholden house to speak with Professor Dragnon.

*****

"I just heard from Angeline Mulligan that Draco's been after Miss Vesdemort for Potions help," Hermione whispered to Harry and Ron, who were both keeping an eye out for any prefects, who would insist that they part immediately and, most likely put them all in detention for 'fraternizing with the enemy.' "Do you think it has to do with the fact that she's helping you with your extra credit potion?"

"Could be," Harry shrugged before starting; he had half an hour until he was supposed to meet Lucinda in the dungeons to finalize the potion and, if he wanted to get something to eat before the grueling tutoring session he best get a move on, once he was in the dungeons Lucinda was adamant that no outside food or drink be present and, like yesterday's review session, if she heard his stomach growl she would call the meeting off and tell him to get something to eat and come find her when he was properly prepared. He'd tried no less than seventeen times to find the prefect after he'd eaten and she seemed to be everywhere and nowhere, a bevy of "She just left here" and "Merlin, you just missed her!" was all he'd managed to come up with. "I'm going up to the house and getting something to eat before I have to go." Without another word Harry left his two bewildered friends standing, looking after him.

"Is it just me or has he been acting rather odd of late?" Ron asked, looping an arm around Hermione's slight shoulders, being careful not to get his rings caught in her long and unruly hair again, he'd already done it twice in the last hour and she was beginning to become upset with him.

"I think he's just worried about his studies," Hermione responded, flicking her hair out of the reach of Ron's infernal rings. "He's already behind in Potions and you know how hard Snape is on him. And on top of that there's a lot to learn Ron, or had you not noticed? If you're going to be successful in University you've got to work hard, something you and Harry seem hesitant to do. You should be putting forth extra effort especially since not even Percy managed to make it into University, but instead of putting your nose in books where it belongs you're getting yourself caught up in this disgusting House War, which I might add, has nothing to do with us first years."

Ron sighed and took his arm off his girlfriend's shoulder, "You're no fun sometimes, Mione, you know that don't you?"

*****

"Lucinda, someone's flooded the bathes again!" Professor Dragon bellowed the moment the prefect entered Britholden house. The last time the bathes had flooded was when Lucinda, prompted by Professor Dragnon, had been practicing some of her lower level spells and, when she'd cast lumos the taps turned on and refused to be shut off for three days.

"I assure you I haven't been practicing Charms in the house, Professor," Lucinda sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. Why was it that every time something went horribly wrong in the house it was presumed to be the fault of her 'little Charms difficulty' as Dragnon called it. "Perhaps one of the first years forgot the trigger word to turn them off?"

"Sprik's been having vapors all afternoon and she's this close to closing off the baths until all of you girls are out of school." The Harlotry Professor pouted at the thought of losing her precious bathes, the pride and joy of her house and, she though, one of her better ideas.

"I'm sure she'll calm down in a day or so, Professor, but nevertheless I'll call a meeting and talk with the girls this evening about the situation. Perhaps we can come up with something nice for Sprik, for her troubles." Lucinda took out her wand and gave it a swish, frowning when the digital clock that appeared before her informed her that the time was 'Five minutes until your meeting with Potter.'

"Thank you for your time, Lucinda dear, you best be on your way. Oh, and before I forget," Alendi handed a package to Lucinda before turning and walking away, waving over her shoulder. "I managed to get you a special something while on my vacation this summer, I know you'll enjoy."

****

Harry had barely managed to stuff a meat pie into his stomach before he was forced to bolt to the dungeons or risk the Britholden prefect's considerable wrath however, when he arrived five minutes early for his tutoring session, he found that the prefect was, in fact, not there. "If she's going to string me up by my ears if I'm late she might do to be on time herself," Harry grumbled when, at two past, she had not arrived.

Ten minutes later, Lucinda strode in clasping a foot tall cylinder of....something, Harry wasn't quite sure. The tall glass canister, topped by a cork the size of Harry's fist, was reflecting the candlelight in the room eerily, casting shadows off the small oval objects within which, now that he thought about it appeared to be some sort of eggs, in a variety of colors from purple to white to pink to a teal green, all of them speckled with various colors. Perhaps this was the Moonlace that was required for the potion, Lucinda had said she had extra in her room and, as such, they had not picked any up at Knockturn Alley during their visit.

"Good evening Mr. Potter, I take it you've cured your ingredients?" Harry was startled when Lucinda opened the jar and popped one of the chocolates into her mouth. Taking note of Harry's worried expression the prefect laughed, uncorked the jar and held it out toward Harry. "It's a Muggle candy I found on a Muggle Studies field trip, they're astoundingly good. Professor Dragnon picked some up for me this summer." Hesitantly Harry took one, sure that it was some sort of trick and he would come down with an illness only the healing draught he was brewing would fix. It wasn't until, with a bit of chagrin, Harry found the "M" symbol on the candy that he ate it, delighting in the chocolate covered malt egg. "Good, isn't it?" Lucinda chuckled, snacking another of the Muggle Easter candies. "I believe Professor Dragnon put the M on there to show it was a Muggle candy." Harry refrained from collapsing in a fit of laughter at Lucinda's ignorance.