A/N: Ugh, sorry its short. Hope it makes you laugh a little or maybe just breathe out harder than normal. Review, I beg you!

By request from Cat of Flames: #108: I am not authorized to negotiate a peace treaty with Voldemort.

-PJatOgirl

"Ms. Jones. What, may I ask, are you writing?"

"Nothing, nothing, Professor McGonagall." I reply, hoping she hadn't read who I'd addressed my letter to before I'd covered it up. The first line reads, "Dark Lord Voldemort," and I doubt she'd like that.

"Would you like to share your note with the class, Jones?"

"NO! I mean, no, that's alright." I answer nervously.

"Give it here." She sticks her hand out expectantly, and reluctantly I pass the parchment to her. Before she looks at it she speaks to the class, lecturing. "Passing notes is not what we come to school to do. You are here to learn, and within this Transfiguration classroom, I will not tolerate written conversations. What you need to tell others can either be taken care of outside of class or shared with all your peers." She turns her eyes back to the parchment, and begins to voice my words.

"Dark Lord Voldemort," she days, then trails off. She throws a glance at me, and I read it as I-can't-believe-you-I-give-up-on-this-cursed-student-what-the-hell. But she's promised to read it and that she does. "I write to you most respectfully in behalf of Hogwarts. I propose a treaty of peace, the terms of which I will out line below. First of all, we ask you hopefully will stop trying to take over everything and abandon your goal to cleanse the world of Muggles/Muggleborn witches and wizards. We'd also appreciate if you wouldn't be so mean to the Weasleys and families like them. In return, we will give you Neville Longbottom, because he was also born at the end of July. Also, we will throw in some Chocolate Frogs and I know a student who is willing to sacrifice his entire collection of cards which is almost complete. And personally, I'm not sure how everyone else would feel about this, but I'd give you Harry Potter too." McGonagall cuts off with the end of what I'd written so far. She looks ready to vomit, and she's choked out every syllable as if she can't believe its actually written out on parchment.

"It's just a rough draft." I say, snatching at it.

She doesn't let go of it, and it rips. Suddenly her senses return to her and she takes the half I've ripped off from me and continues to shred the parchment. "You, Emma Jones, of all people, are not fit or authorized to negotiate peace with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Voldemort?" I ask, as if it needs to be cleared up. "I'm sorry, I didn't know I wasn't allowed to try and save the world. I suppose that's Potter's job, isn't it. How rude of me to try to interfere."

"Forty points from Gryffindor, Jones, for your audacity and your sass. Class dismissed, I've got a pounding headache." My fellow Gryffindors seem half angry about the points, half relieved about early dismissal, and half entertained by my letter. I am just half furious that she tore up my hard work, and half excited to mess around with the boys in our unexpected freetime. Peace could come another time. For now, mischief shall rule.