I do not own a pair of shoes with big X's on the sides, a Lamborghini Diablo, or Snafu-comics.

Chapter 11: Lavender's Spiel

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the windows upstairs defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

Despite all the hype about the troll and the destruction done to the second and third floors, the students were quickly diverted by a message that was left on the message boards in all the common rooms.

Dear students,

To give you a chance to get out of the castle and stretch your legs, a trip to the nearby village of Hogsmeade will be permitted for any interested students, provided they receive written permission from their parent or guardian on November 6th.

With best Narf, Albus Dumbledore.

"Narf?" Ron muttered.

"Hogsmeade?" Harry wondered.

"Yeah, it's the village just outside the gates," Percy explained.

"What's so cool about it anyway?"

"Well," Fred and George each planted an elbow on one of Harry's shoulders.

"There's the Three Broomsticks."

"Zonko's Joke Shop."

"The Shrieking Shack."

"Honeyduke's chocolate shop."

"It's totally worth it."

"We only ever get to go two or three times a year."

"So take the opportunity."

"That's enough you two," Percy scolded, "You're giving me a headache."

"Aw!" the twins cried in stereo. "Don't you love your brothers?"

"Just cut it out!"

"Aw! Mr. Prefect is having a tantrum!"

Harry, Ron and Dean left the twins to battle it out with Percy, and headed down to breakfast.

The three of them took seats at the Gryffindor table. Everyone was talking excitedly about the visit to Hogsmeade and the last night's events. Ernie Macmillan came over just to chat about it with Neville.

"I bet the troll was just a diversion!" Ernie whispered.

"Why? Why would he even want to get in here?" Dean asked him smugly.

"Why would a psychotic killer come here? He wants to kill someone."

"Like who?"

"Well, who would one of You-Know-Who's followers want to kill?"

"Sorry," Harry interjected, "But who's You-Know-Who?"

"He's the dark lord of evil and destruction! He was the last great threat to the wizarding world!"

"And," Hermione seated herself beside them, "He was the one who killed your parents, and tried to kill you, Harry."

Harry felt a chill run through him. His parents had been murdered?

"Hey, that's right! That would explain it! He's come here to kill – Harry, are you alright?" Ernie asked, concerned.

"Well, I don't suppose you'd be alright if you just found out your parents were murdered years ago, would you?" he said drily.

Hermione gasped. "Oh! I'm sorry, Harry! I didn't—I thought you knew!"

Harry just looked down at his plate, prodding his eggs with a fork. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione stand up and walk away. Ernie, Dean, and Neville went on talking, carefully avoiding the subject of You-Know-Who.

Ron sat down next to Harry, saw his face and asked, "Who died?"

Dean kicked him under the table. Ron yelled, "Ouch!" Dean shook his head from side to side. About then, Hermione came back with Luna in tow.

"Here, do you remember Luna from earlier?"

"We've talked," Harry said solemnly.

"Right. Luna lost her mum a few years ago."

"Yeah, but she wasn't murdered. She died in an accident. I always thought my parents did, too. But they weren't. They—"

"Harry!" Ron said, annoyed, "You're boring me to death with your angst."

"What, you want me to make a pun about my parents, is that it?"

"No, it just gets so bloody depressing."

Harry sighed and sat down.

"Hey guys, guess what!"

Everyone turned to see Lavender standing behind them, holding a metal box with a fun word stamped on the outside. Harry tried not to laugh, pretending to choke on a bite of egg he hadn't taken.

"I'm collecting members for my new group!" Lavender cried happily, shaking the box.

"What group?" Harry asked, careful to keep his eyes on her face, lest they should wander slightly lower.

Ron, however, was doing a terrible job of pretending to be mesmerized by the metal box.

"It's called the Friends of Underprivileged Creatures and Minority Entities!"

"Entities," Ron repeated, still pretending to look at the box.

Hermione's mouth was hanging open about a decimeter.

Hermione whispered, scandalized, "Ronald! Keep your eyes—"

"Who wants to join?" Lavender asked enthusiastically.

Ron's hand shot up. "Me!"

Harry felt a little sorry for Ron, "Me, too."

At least Ron wouldn't be alone.

"I'm in!" Hermione exclaimed, determined to keep an eye on Ron.

"And me," Neville said nervously.

"Okay," Luna nodded.

"Why not," Dean sighed.

Ernie was having difficulty keeping his eyes on her face as well, "That sounds… fun."

Seamus showed up out of nowhere. He looked at the acronym written on the box. "Whatever it is, I'm in."

"Great! That makes us twelve then!" Lavender cried excitedly, jumping up and down.

"Who else did you manage to trick into going along with this?" Harry asked.

"Oh, Terry Boot, Susan Bones, and Justin Finch-Fletchley!"

"Great!" Harry smacked himself in the forehead, already regretting his hasty decision.

"I've planned for the first meeting to be in the three broomsticks in Hogsmeade at four. Make sure you get your permission slip signed!"

Harry let out a sigh of relief. He had a way out! There was absolutely no chance that Uncle Vernon would let him go to Hogsmeade, if that meant that he might enjoy himself. He finished his breakfast in relative peace and left for his first class.

As he exited the Great Hall, Fred and George grabbed him and pulled him into a nearby corridor.

"What are you idiots doing?" he cried, trying to free himself.

"Is that any way to address the twins who got you a date with a certain fifth-year fox?"

"You—How?"

"Suddenly interested, are we?" Fred, Harry thought, said.

"Let's just say that she owed us a favor," George, maybe, said, "and she agreed to meet you in Madam Puddifoot's tea shop."

"You're not joking, are you?" Harry asked desperately.

"Nope, but this is a non-refundable deal. And you'll owe us one, got it?"

"Got it!" Harry nodded. "When am I supposed to meet her?"

"At about three o'clock. Make sure you get your permission slip signed.

"Okay that's great, I—D*** it!"

"Something wrong?" Fred, as his name may have been, asked.

"Two things. First, my stupid uncle will never sign my permission slip. Second, if I do get it signed, somehow, I'll have to go to Lavender's stupid minority meeting!"

"A minority meeting?" George, wherefore he was named so, we may never know, asked curiously.

"Yeah, it's called – (censored)"

Fred and George began to laugh furiously.

"That's brilliant!" one twin cried.

"Lavender's brains are her second best trait!" his/her sibling cried.

"Just for that," the twin wiped a tear from their eye, "we have something for you."

"A long time ago, we decided to give this to our little bro, but we think that, as a young pervert, you are more deserving to follow in our footsteps."

"Harry, this is what we like to call the Marauder's Map."

The twin pulled an old piece of parchment paper from a breast pocket, unfolded it, tapped it with his/her wand, and said, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

And at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point the twin's wand had touched. They joined each other, they crisscrossed, they fanned into every corner of the parchment; then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, that proclaimed:

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers

are Proud to present

The Marauder's Map

It was a map showing every detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But the truly remarkable thing were the tiny ink dots moving around it, each labeled with a name in miniscule writing. He noticed a lot of passages he didn't know existed. Some of them led off the map, apparently in the direction of –"

"Hogsmeade," the twin pointed at one of the hidden passages. "There are a couple leading out of Hogwarts, but we've only ever used this one. It comes out in the basement of Honeydukes. Take notice of this passage."

The twin pointed to a passage on the fourth floor. "This runs right by the baths. There are peepholes, too."

"Sweet," Harry grinned, his dirty mind buzzing.

"Just check to make sure Hannah Abbott's not in there when you go."

"Why?"

"You've seen her?"

"I follow. Thanks, Fred, George. I definitely owe you one, err, two."

"Oh, we almost forgot, when you're done using it, tap it with your wand and say 'mischief managed!' and it should go blank."

Harry felt exhilarated as he went to his first class. A trip to Hogsmeade for a date with Cho… And no meeting with Lavender. He was so happy, he felt like weeping.

"You look Happy Harry, did Lavender drop her quill?" Seamus asked Harry.

"No, better. I'm going on a date with Cho."

"Really? Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I want to?"

"Her dad's a fox deity, Justin told me a couple weeks ago."

"A couple weeks a— wait a minute. Why's that a turn-off?"

"Well, I mean, she's not entirely human. It's a bit odd. Unless you're into that sort of thing," Seamus shrugged.

"She's really pretty, smart, and –" Harry said, thinking it over.

"Shut up, Potter," Snape snapped. "Open your books to page seven hundred and thirteen."

The students opened their books to page seven hundred and thirteen.

"Today, class, we will be learning about attraction potions. These potions cause anyone who looks at the user to fall deeply in love with them. For five or six minutes. Be aware that the potion only affects those who swing toward liking your gender. Professor Dumbledore learned that the hard way."

Malfoy raised his hand, "What happened, Professor?"

Snape smiled, "He was trying to woo the Queen - at a gay pride parade."

Malfoy frowned, "I thought the old geezer was a bit set that way himself?"

Snape shook his head, "A common misconception. And to cap it all, he didn't even manage to gain the Queen's affections."

The Slytherins laughed.

"Now, this potion is made by mixing sixty-six four leaf clovers, a strand of unicorn pubic hair, and a pint of lager. We have just enough unicorn hair and four leaf clovers for all of you. I'll be collecting four Knuts for each pint of lager you use. Have your money ready. If you don't have any with you, then you have five minutes to collect it."

Fortunately for Harry, he kept a few coins on him at all times, but poor Neville had to run to Gryffindor Tower and back. Harry moved over to sit with his partner, and bought his lager off Snape as he passed the desk. Ten minutes into class, Neville ran into the room and shut the door behind him. He smelled like Gorgonzola and had something green and furry covering him from head to toe.

Neville held out four Knuts to Snape.

"You're late, you smell worse than usual, and you're tracking Thestral droppings," Snape sniffed, then winced, wishing he hadn't, "Fifty points from Gryffindor and detention for the rest of the week."

Harry poured the crushed four leaf clovers into the cauldron and Blaise poured in the congealed lager and hair. It was turning a vibrant red. Pansy had dumped a half a gallon of bleach in Hermione's cauldron when she wasn't paying attention, and there was a human heart floating in the pink liquid. Seamus and Dean had once again made Crabbe and Goyle sabotage each other, growing celery in one cauldron, and filling the other with solid granite. Malfoy's cauldron blew up this time, intestines spewing everywhere.

"Weasley! Seventy points from Gryffindor! If Malfoy screws up again, I'll know it was your fault, and you'll know what four straight weeks of detention feels like!" Snape roared.

Blaise gave the potion one final stir, then dipped a flask into the cauldron. Harry followed suit. Snape barely looked up from his copy of Makeout Paradise.

"Well done, Blaise, twenty points for Slytherin. Get out of here, Potter."

Harry didn't need telling twice. He picked up his bag, and, after filling another flask with potion, left the room.

Finally, the morning of the Hogsmeade trip arrived. Harry got out of bed and went downstairs to breakfast. The other eleven were sitting at the Gryffindor table, because it had more room than the Hufflepuff table. Lavender was talking enthusiastically to the other members, most of whom looked like they wished they had stayed in bed.

" –And that's why minorities should have just as much, if not more power than majorities. Their lack of support should be made up for by everyone else doing what they say!" Lavender smiled.

Ron was tapping his fork to his plate and raising it to his mouth, apparently unaware that it had no food on it.

"Ronald," Hermione glared at him. "What are you doing?"

"I'm admiring Lavender's necklace," Ron said in a far-off voice.

"She's not wearing a necklace," her face curled into a furious grimace.

"I'm imagining her wearing a pretty necklace."

"And what else?"

"Nothing."

Hermione jumped up, "He admitted it! Did you hear what he said, Lavender?"

"Whatever it was, I'm flattered. Now, do any of you know why the life of one tree is worth more than a small community?"

"Something to do with the number of rings," Seamus mumbled, half asleep.

"I'm sorry, Lavender, but I can't go to the meeting, my uncle hates me and won't sign my permission slip," Harry pretended to be sad.

"Oh, that's too bad. Next time, then, okay?" Lavender smiled.

Harry breathed out and sat down next to Dean. Dean jumped a little, banging his knee on the table. Neville's plasma tea tipped over and spilled on his lap. Neville tried to stand up and fell backwards over the bench. He ran out of the hall, pursued by weak laughter.

Harry tapped the hump of the one-eyed witch and said, "Dissendium. The hell, that's not latin! Or, wait, is it?"

He reached for his dictionary, stopped, shook his head, and pulled himself into the hole which had opened in the witch's back. After sliding down a stone slope, he crawled through a narrow earthen passage for about three kilometers. He wished he'd paid just a bit more attention at his previous school, which had been a military school. Finally, he came to the end of the tunnel. He ascended some stone stairs and pushed up on a wooden trapdoor. He was in the basement of Honeydukes.

He could smell the sweets upstairs. He snuck up the wooden stairs in the corner and found himself in a room just behind the counter. Thinking hastily of a way to sneak in without being noticed, he was saved by Draco Malfoy. Draco casually walked by a lollypop stand, casually slipping one into his pocket. An alarm sounded. Harry almost jumped, and felt a pit growing in his stomach. They knew he was there.

They didn't. They did shake down Draco, though. While the people in the shop were thus entertained, entertained meaning here, distracted, Harry slipped out from behind the counter and joined the people laughing and pointing at Malfoy. He casually broke away and slipped across the street to the Three Broomsticks.

Inside, he joined Seamus, Dean, and Ron at a table.

"Harry! We thought you couldn't get your permission slip signed!" Seamus exclaimed, surprised.

"Yeah, but Dumbledore was very agreeable about the whole thing," Harry lied.

Dean just shook his head and took a sip from his mug.

Harry waved his hand for the barmaid, who was wearing a very revealing outfit and looked to be about seventy, "Excuse me, could I get a drink!"

"What would you like, young sir."

"I'll have what they're having."

"All right, that'll be two Knuts."

Harry tossed her the coins and turned back to his friends.

Justin had walked over. "Hi, Harry! I thought you couldn't get your permission slip signed. Huh, guess I was mistaken. Anyway, I was just in Honeydukes, and you'll never guess what happened."

"Malfoy got caught stuffing his pockets," Harry grinned.

"Hey!" now Justin looked miffed, "I wanted to say that!"

"So say it."

"Malfoy got caught stuffing his pockets! Darn! Somehow, it just doesn't feel the same."

"My apologies," Harry bowed his head slightly. "Hey, Justin, do you know where Madam Puddifoot's is?"

"Yes, but you wouldn't want to go there."

"Why not?" Dean asked.

"I've heard stories."

"We know," Harry smirked.

"What?" Justin's brow furrowed.

"We know you've heard stories."

"Oh, right. Well, I've heard that the place is really frilly and crap. It's sickeningly cutesy and lovey-dovey."

"Really."

"Yes."

"So where is it?"

"I've heard that it's just two doors down."

"Thank you very much," Harry bowed his head again.

After whittling away the time until three, chatting and drinking butterbeer, Harry set out for Madam Puddifoot's shop. There it was, two doors down. Justin hadn't been kidding. It looked horrible. Harry pushed open the oak door and entered a world of horror. There was more ribbon and lace here than there was in any one retirement home. Seated in a booth along one of the walls was Cho, her black hair tied back in a ponytail, reading The Magical World of Stocks and Bonds by Gilderoy Lockheart. She looked up as he entered and smiled.

"Hi," Harry said, feeling awkward.

"Hi," she said, also feeling awkward.

The waitress, who was wearing a string bikini, strolled over, "Is there anything I can get for you?"

Harry blushed, "Uh, just tea, thank you."

Cho picked up a menu and looked through it. "Could I please get the ice latte with cherry?"

"Of course, I'll be right back."

She swayed away. Harry felt like his face was on fire.

"I have to ask, Cho, what kind of tea shop is this?"

"A very good one," she winked.

Harry wasn't sure what to make of that. The waitress came back and set a pair of cups on the table. Harry swirled his with the spoon, unsure of what to say. Cho blew on hers then lowered it to her lap, couching it in her hands.

"So, Harry, Fred and George tell me that you're the boy who lived."

"Yes, yes I am. I guess."

"You guess?" she quirked an eyebrow.

"I didn't even know that my parents had been murdered until just a few days ago."

"Oh, Harry."

"I'm fine."

"Great, because I was about to scold you for trying to sympathize your way up my skirt."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"A lot of guys have tried that. It doesn't work."

Harry thought about that for a moment as Cho took a sip of her tea. He unconsciously raised his own glass to his lips and almost yelped when the hot tea touched his tongue.

"You have to blow on it a little," Cho hinted.

Harry nodded and blew on it.

"So you're half fox?" he asked conversationally.

Cho spilled her latte down her front.

"D*** it!" she swore, wiping at her shirtfront.

One of the waitresses came over. "Let me help, miss."

She pulled Cho's shirt off and walked to the back room with it.

"D***!" Cho swore louder. "They always find an excuse to do that! At least this time it was only my top."

Harry blushed and looked away. One of the waitresses came by with a promotional shirt. Cho quickly pulled it on.

"So," Harry said, "this happens often?"

"Practically every time anyone comes here. They wash your clothes in the back for you, but then you have to stay and buy more tea. It's all a sales ploy."

"You sure do know how to run a business."

"Why thank you, I— Oh, would you look at that! You complimented me and I fell right into it. You're better than I guessed. How did you know I was half-fox?"

"Justin told me."
"Curse him! Ah, well. Nothing to be done about it now. Harry, you're really cute and all, but I've got a rule."

"What rule," Harry asked, confused.

"No f****** first years. Poetic, isn't it?"

"Very."

Then, Blaise walked in. Cho's eyes lit up.

"Ooh, excuse me Harry, I'm going to see if I can break a rule," she whispered and scurried off toward Blaise.

Harry poked his potato and sighed.

Ron elbowed him, "Did she do it with you?"

"No. What gave you that idea?" Harry asked.

"Justin heard her comment on someone being very good."

"That'd be Blaise."

"That wanker!" Ron said furiously.

"Ron, you better watch your language. The FCC is starting to notice us."

"Oh, come on! No one in the U.S. even knows what that word really means, and no one in the U.K. is ever going to read this," Ron muttered.
"I wouldn't be so sure."

"This from the guy who couldn't get with Cho Chang."

"You know how attractive Blaise is! I didn't stand a bloody chance. Besides, I didn't want to, anyway."

"Who was it that said we should watch our language?"

"Hermione, probably," Harry muttered.

"Cheer up, Harry!" Seamus said enthusiastically. "The first Quidditch match of the year is coming up! You've got that to look forward to!"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"And I might be able to get you together with my sister over winter break," Seamus let it hang.

"I already said that I didn't want that," Harry said, slightly annoyed.

"What's wrong with my sister?"

"Nothing, I just don't want to get in a relationship, that's all."

"The way we've been talking," Ron mused, "You'd think that our characters were in their late teens instead of their early twenties."

"No," Harry corrected him, "Our characters are in their early teens, our actors are in their early twenties."

"Actors, characters, same thing," Ron shrugged.

"So, you ask Hermione out?" Harry asked.

"Nope. She's too naggy. I tried to ask Lavender out, but I didn't get the chance. That girl never shuts her mouth, did you know?"

Harry smiled, "I reckon that if she didn't have such impressive – err – tracts of land, you wouldn't be interested at all."

"Two points."

Ron kicked the table. Neville, who had been holding his tea for safety, was startled by the thud and spilled it on Dean's lap. Dean had been ladling hot gravy onto his potatoes and beef, and spilled the pot on Neville's lap. Neville scrambled for the door and ran. Hardly anyone noticed.

Harry nodded, "Two points."

Hermione glared at Ron from down the table. Ron was helping Dean clean up the spilled tea. Luckily, Neville had become so paranoid, he had started drinking his tea cold. Luna sat down next to Hermione.

"Hi, Luna," Hermione smiled at her.

"Hello, Hermione," Luna replied, "There are Nargles circling your head."

She pulled out a jar, seemingly from nowhere and swooshed it over Hermione's head, then screwed a cap tightly over it.

"Got them," she said, smiling as she stowed the jar away in her bag.

"Err, thanks, Luna," Hermione said uncertainly.

"I see that you're trying to catch that red-head's eye," Luna smiled dreamily.

"What? No, no I'm not!"

"Don't be shy. Where's the shame in saying he's cute?"

"The shame?" Hermione mouthed.

"You should ask him out. He's been eyeing that cow over there," she pointed at Lavender.

"I- I- No. And you really shouldn't call Lavender a cow, it's not nice."

"You're just saying that because you're only a C cup."

Hermione gagged on her milk.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, really. I'm only an A cup, and I look just—"

Hermione slapped a hand to Luna's mouth, "Quiet down, will you? People are looking!"

"I don't see what you're upset about. It doesn't matter if they can hear, it's not anything important."

"No, but it's private!" Hermione whispered urgently.

"Oh, I see now, you're embarrassed because of the subject. Okay, I see now."

Hermione sighed, "So, how'd Harry do?"

"Cho did seem to like him a little, but Blaise came and stole her."

Hermione thought about that.

"Susan says that you need a man."

Hermione jumped. "What?"

"You're always buried in a book. You never even talk to guys unless you're scolding them, Hermione."

"Luna," Hermione sighed, "I don't have time for men. School is more important."

"If that's your choice," Luna shrugged, "Then there's nothing more I can say. Except that Ron has a big—"

"Luna! How do you—Never mind, I don't want to know."

Luna giggled and buried her face in a copy of the Quibbler.