Uh, well...hello. I'm not dead, but I have no excuses for the hideously long hiatus, other than this: I've had this chapter written for months, and just forgot that I hadn't posted it yet.

The storm had quieted down by the next morning, and the sun was out by the time Harry, Hermione and I came down for breakfast. McGonagall had passed out course schedules, and I was pleased to see that mine didn't include Divination.

"Today's not too bad," Ron declares. "We're outside all morning."

I glance at my own schedule – we had Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and then Care of Magical Creatures with, unfortunately, the Slytherins – and then out the window. "Everything's still damp, though."

"It won't be that way for long," Hermione assures me, slathering butter on her toast. "We're inside this afternoon, though."

"I've got Double Divination," Harry groans. I give him a sympathetic look – Trelawney was a drunken old fraud that kept predicting phony deaths.

"You should've dropped it like me," Hermione says, also slathering jam on her toast.

"I did," I offer, sliding my schedule towards her. "We've got Double Runes together after lunch."

"Really?" Hermione scans my schedule. "Ori, that's brilliant! But how did you do it?"

"It was easy," I shrug. "I owled McGonagall asking to drop Divination, and she accepted and got me in contact with Professor Babbling, who agreed." I glance around us before leaning in closer and lowering my voice to a whisper. "Turns out, Snuffles was good at Runes when he was here. He helped me pass some advanced placement tests to put me in with the fourth year class."

"That's amazing, 'Rissa," Hermione beams. "I knew you could do something more than just staring into a crystal ball all day."

I nod, directing my attention upwards as the morning mail arrives with a flood of owls. I watch carefully, but I can't find any black in the sea if tawny and gray. I try and shove away the disappointment that begins to settle in my stomach – it was probably fine. Tyche might've gotten delayed by the storm, and Dad could've just not received my letter yet.

But the disappointment settles nonetheless, and it lasts all the way out to greenhouse three, where Professor Sprout gives me an excuse to stab and slice things, all in the name of extracting Bubotuber pus from the slug-like plants. I was absolutely horrible in Herbology since it usually required a delicate touch I lacked, but this was – to be quite honest – a bit like popping zits. Huge, squishy, pus-filled plant zits.

The class was over fairly quickly, as did Care of Magical Creatures, although the latter was far more deadly. A word to the wise: don't do Blast-Ended Skrewts. Just don't. They're like a three in one package of pain: they bite, they suck blood, and they're liable to blow up in your face, as the name implies. And, as Malfoy so helpfully pointed out, they're about as useful as a flobberworm.

Blast-Ended Skrewts: a really bad idea. I loved Hagrid, I really did, but just…no.

By the time I re-entered the castle for lunch, I was hot, tired, and more than a bit exasperated. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I all quickly found seats and began helping ourselves to lamb chops and potatoes.

I stared at Hermione as she began to eat it a matter more befitting of Ron; that is, so quickly I thought she would choke. "Is this some new protest method? Making yourself choke and enter martyrdom?"

"No," Hermione mumbles around a mouthful of potatoes. "I jus' wanna get to the library."

"But it's the first day!" I whine. "You don't have any homework yet!"

"I know," she says cryptically before returning to her quest to inhale her entire meal. She springs up a moment later, grabbing her bag and hollering goodbye over her shoulder as she takes off.

I watch her go with a shake of my head.

At the bell signaling the end of lunch, I bid Harry and Ron goodbye and make my way to a classroom on the second floor, surprised to find Hermione already there and saving me a seat.

"Did you find whatever you were looking for?" I ask as I set my bag down.

"Maybe," she replies cryptically just as Professor Babbling walks in and begins the class.

From the letters I'd sent over summer, she sounded like a kind witch, although stern; she wouldn't accept anything less than your best work, but if you truly couldn't do something, she would gladly offer help.

"Today, we will be reviewing concepts from last year, just in case. For those of you that either weren't with us…" her eyes meet mine, "or paid no attention." She looks directly at a Ravenclaw boy in the back of the class. "Now, you'll find the necessary tools on your desks. Please prepare them accordingly."

The "necessary items", it turns out, were a slab of clay, about six inches square, and a little tool that had a scalpel-like blade at one end and a rounded stump at the other.

"Open your textbooks to page 15 and we'll begin…"

An hour and a half later, my fingers were cramped and I had clay under my fingernails, but I was wearing a smile. My clay slab contained the entire Nordic Runic alphabet, a rune for speed, and one for joy, which was more than a few of my classmates – except for Hermione, of course, who had managed to complete a minor shielding ward set.

"Come on," she says, packing her books away. "We should go to dinner before Ron eats half the food in the castle."

"I'm just glad you're eating again," I comment idly as I Scourgify'd my nails clean. "This was fun, by the way."

"Isn't it?" she gushes. "Runes are so simple, but you can do so much, like shielding and warding and amulet-making and…"

She continues to talk until we get down to the Great Hall, where everyone was lined up for dinner.

"Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley," Malfoy's voice says from around the corner. "It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?"

I stop dead in my tracks, shushing Hermione as I pulled her back so that we were hidden behind the wall.

Malfoy continues, and the Great Hall was nearly silent as everyone listened. "Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins…"

The article continues, and once Malfoy was done, he adds, "And there's a picture, Weasley! A picture of your parents outside their house — if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

I take this as my cue and step from behind the wall to see Harry and Hermione both hold Ron back as he shook with fury.

"And your mother could use a personality change, couldn't she, Malfoy?"

The Slytherin whips around to face me. "Don't talk about my mother, Black. And you were there as well – tell me, is she always that pudgy, or is it the picture?"

"Is your father always an arse, or is it just when he's awake?" I counter, smirking.

"Stop insulting my family, blood-traitor."

"Don't insult my friends, you git," I reply, twirling my wand between my fingers as Hermione drags Ron away, Malfoy's attention fully on Harry and I. "At least Ron's dad does honest work. What's yours do, sit around paying Ministry officials off?"

"That's more than yours does," he hisses. "He's probably drunk as we speak. And Potter, your father – oh, wait, you don't have one!"

Harry lunges forward, but I catch the back of his robes. "You might want to shut up, Malfoy, before you say something your wand can't back up."

And with that, I turn to walk away, nudging Harry ahead of me.

I should've known better than to turn my back on Malfoy.

A loud BANG fills the hallway and a flash of white light goes off to my left. I whip around, reaching into my pocket for my wand, but before I can get it out, a second BANG echoes the first one, followed by a shout.

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

Mad-Eye Moody was limping down the stairs, wand pointed at a quivering white ferret on the ground where Malfoy had been a moment before.

"Did he get you?" Mad-Eye asks Harry and I.

"No," Harry mutters, while I shake my head. "He missed."

"LEAVE IT!" Moody barks.

I take a step back. "Sorry – what?"

"Not you – him!" he nods towards where Crabbe was approaching the ferret. He turns back to ferret-Malfoy, flicking his wand at him and making the ferret fly up in the air, bounce, and repeat.

"You – don't – attack – someone – when – their – back – is – turned!" Moody bellows, punctuating each word with another bounce. "Filthy coward! I oughta-"

"Professor Moody!" a shocked voice called. Professor McGonagall was approaching fast. "What are you doing?"

"Professor McGonagall," Moody says calmly, the ferret-Malfoy bouncing higher and higher, "Teaching."

"Teach – Moody, is that a student?"

"Yep."

"No!" McGonagall rushes forward, raising her wand. With a loud crack, the ferret disappeared and Malfoy sat there, looking flushed as he stood with a wince.

"Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment," McGonagall says weakly. "Surely Dumbledore mentioned this?"

"He might've, yeah," Moody says, sounding unconcerned, "but I thought a good shock-"

"Then report to the student's Head of House! Or give a detention!"

Moody's eye – both of them – fixes on Malfoy, whose eyes were still watering from pain and humiliation. "I might just do that. Your Head of House would be Snape, then?"

"Yes," Malfoy boldly. "My father will hear about this, mark my words."

"Let him," Moody growls. "I know exactly who your father is, boy. Snape too. Come on, then."

And the two disappeared down the corridor. McGonagall watches them go for a moment before turning to the assembled crowd. "Move along, all of you. There is nothing to see here."

"Don't talk to me," Ron whispers as we sit down with our food a few minutes later.

"Why not?" Hermione asks.

"I want to remember that forever," he murmurs, a silly grin breaking out on his face.

"Draco Malfoy: The Amazing Bouncing Ferret," I grin, raising my hands as if seeing it on a billboard.

"He really could've hurt Malfoy, though," Hermione protests. "It was good, really, that McGonagall stopped it when she did."

"Shh!" I admonish. "You're ruining the best moment of my life!"

Hermione just scoffed at me and began eating at top speed again.

"Back the library, again?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "Professor Babbling didn't give us homework."

"It's not for homework," she mutters before taking off.

Just as she leaves, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan approach the table. "Good evening, Harry, Ronniekins, Blackie."

"Don't call me that," I sigh. "But, hey, quick idea."

"Yes, Blackie?" Fred asks.

I grit my teeth at him but then grin. "Ferret Fritters. Like Canary Creams, but-"

"-ferrets," George finishes. "That's bloody amazing. Where'd you get the idea?"

I share a look with Ron. "Malfoy, actually."

The twins give me an odd look. "Fine, then don't tell us."

I roll my eyes. "Did you want something, Weasley?"

"Yeah, Black," Fred fires back. "Moody. How cool is he?"

"Really cool," George replies.

"The coolest," Jordan adds. "We had him this afternoon."

"What's he like?" I ask.

"Brilliant," George admits breathlessly. "Scary, but brilliant."

"He knows," Fred gushes. "You know?"

"Knows?" I repeat. "Knows what? How to be a moron? A talentless fake? A possessed fool?"

"Not this time," George says cheerfully. "He knows what it's like, y'know? To be out there, on the front lines."

I quickly dig in my pockets and pull out my schedule. "We haven't got him till Friday."

"You're missing out," George shrugs.

"He sounds like a good teacher, though," Harry offers. "Really hands-on."

I snort at that but nod in agreement. While no one would quite match up with Moony (as Remus said I could call him), a teacher that knew, first-hand, what it was like to be "out there"? That knew that just because we were young, didn't mean we couldn't fight? He sounded like a good idea to me.

Plus, he did turn Malfoy into a ferret.

Yeah, I grin. Definitely a good idea.