Disclaimer: I still don't own Harry Potter or any of the other things in this story but I'm looking through my spell books to see if there's any kind of time travel spell I could use to go to 1980, write a draft and catch Jo with at least a copyright infringement.

She Has A Name!

Dumbledore looked at Harry. "Harry, why don't you take yourself and Miss Granger off to the hospital wing to see Madame Pomphrey about your injuries?"

"No." I interjected. "Mister Potter and Miss Granger will both accompany us to your office, but please do summon the good Madam. Her services will be required in more ways than one." I gave him the most mocking, insincere smile I could come up with.

He scowled at me. "Young Lady, I am not used to having my words contradicted, in my school, by anyone, especially by people I do not know."

My smile became a bit more sinister. "One: get used to it. They're coming. Two: it's not your school, you merely run it, and do a really piss poor job of it at that. Three:" I lowered my voice and stepped closer to him, "if you want to talk about that thing in his head and what we're going to do about getting it out without killing him right here, I'm willing." The joy in my smile now was genuine, but not very nice: the shocked look on his face at my statement was well worth it. I stepped back. "And if you think three hundred and thirty-seven years is young, why, thank you." I curtsied to him.

Curtsied! Damnit! I curtsied to him! Gaaahh! Without even thinking about it! I'm in a woman's body and I flirted with the old goat lover and if I ever find that bastard SOB Spooky, if he is Death, I'm going to rip his rib cage out and turn it into a xylophone like an old cartoon I'd once seen. And three hundred thirty-seven years old? Where the hell did that come…

…Oh… Crap. I was. I couldn't remember most of those years, but that was my age, here and now. I even knew the ritual I needed to turn back the years for my body. I groaned. Can you groan in your head? I can, because of course "my birthday is July 29th." I didn't even realize I'd spoken out loud before I tilted my head back. "Really? Couldn't you have at least given me an instruction manual before you dropped me into the middle of this shiteshow?"

I looked around to see everyone looking at me like I'd gone off my rocker. Feigning confused ignorance, I said "What?"

"Are you alright?" Bones asked in a concerned voice.

"No." I sighed. "It's been a really bad day, you know? Fighting wimpy assed dark lords and his butt buddies, almost getting my soul sucked out, twice, almost had to fight a wimpy assed Minister of Magic because I almost had my soul sucked out twice; just not a really good day."

"Who were you yelling at?" Hermione asked.

"God, Satan, Death, Fate. Take your pick." I replied.

She looked at me in a confused way. "Why?"

"Because they're the reason I'm having a really bad day." I suddenly had a thought. "Do you know if AC/DC has released Thunderstruck yet?"

She gave me a blank look, looked at Harry, who looked amazed that she didn't have an answer on the tip of her tongue, then looked back at me and shrugged.

"Never mind, then." Damn! AC/DC in concert with Thunderstruck! Yes! Was Hells Bells on that album? Doesn't matter, if it's not, I'll see it later.

"Are we ready to go inside?" The aggravated voice of Dumbledore sounded from behind me.

"Oh, yes, I'm ready to …" I started, then saw something that drew my attention. "On second thought, why don't you go ahead to your office? Harry and Hermione can bring me up in a few minutes."

The old man gave an exasperated sigh. "And why can't you come along now?"

"I'm going to offer a path back to the light, or at least the gray, to someone and some reasons for them to follow it." I explained.

He looked to where I was. He was quiet for a moment, then said in a pensive voice, "Very well, we will see you shortly." The entire group, save the two teenagers, began walking towards the castle, though I heard Madam Bones asking Dumbledore why he had acquiesced to me.

"How did you know my name?" Hermione asked.

Thinking about the upcoming encounter as we began walking in a slightly different direction, I didn't think before I answered in a distracted voice. "I read it in a book." I heard her mumbling about the Skeeter woman.

As we approached the couple I had seen, my first thought was she really is a blonde. She looks better with black hair in my opinion though. My second was, he's not bad looking.

I immediately imagined pouring a bucket of brain bleach through my eye sockets to get that thought out of my head. Don't ever think like that again, damnit! I was going to turn Spookie's skull into a drum and his thigh bones into drumsticks to go along with that xylophone for changing me enough to think like that.

Draco Malfoy was an unmitigated prick and bigoted bastard, though he started drifting away from Riddle when the man threatened his parents, he pretty much stayed that way and I'm a guy, damnit, and I am not going to think of him as a hunk! He was, however, a child of his upbringing and had done nothing irredeemable as yet. In the books he had started changing his beliefs, especially after Riddle threatened his mother's life. If I could encourage that thinking earlier in his life, who knew what could happen.

"Draco Malfoy!" I called as we approached him and his mother. I inclined my head to nod at his mother. "Lady Malfoy." She nodded back at me.

He turned and looked at us, scowling at my companions before looking at me. His eyeballs got stuck somewhere around my chest and he gave me a lascivious grin. I very seriously considered doing a Moody on him just to see how high a pitch I could get out of him.

"How may I help you, Miss?" he stated with an oily tone.

Setting aside a pleasing thought of cooking his junk with a high-powered burst of microwaves, okay, maybe thinking like a woman in some circumstances could be warranted, I addressed him. "Is it true that a Malfoy bows to no man?"

His eyes showed his surprise at the question, but he proudly drew himself up. "Yes, it is."

"Then I would ask you why your father abases himself by groveling on the ground before the Dark Lord to kiss the hem of his robes?" His face twisted into a snarl as I continued. "Why would he let the man brand him like an animal, make him call him 'master' as if your father were his slave? Why would he allow him to torture him for the slightest grievance and kill him if he angered him, as he has done to others before? Why does he follow a man who has killed as many purebloods as he has non-magical people? Caused the extinction of so many pureblood houses? Why does he blindly follow a half-blood?"

"You lie!" Malfoy snapped angrily as he took a step towards me, wand in hand.

"The Dark Lord, true name Tom Marvolo Riddle, is the half-blood son of the muggle Tom Riddle and the near squib witch named Merope Gaunt, last descendant of the line of Salazar Slytherin. Look in the trophy room for an award of merit to the school for him and then rearrange the letters of his name until they spell 'I am Lord Voldemort' if you don't believe me."

Malfoy was looking uncertain now. "You're lying." He ground out. "He's the greatest hero of the Pureblood faction."

"The only faction he cares about is himself." I told him, somewhat amazed at how calm I was about it. "He wants power, and he will use anyone to get it, kill anyone who opposes him and will crush the wizarding world under his feet once he has it. He hates the purebloods because of the way they treated him because of his heritage in school, he hates the non-magical world because he sees them as weak and the way they treated him as a child because he was in an orphanage. His mother died in childbirth, and he killed his father's family and most of the Gaunt's then framed his grandfather for the murders. And that mark you covet so much? It not only lets him communicate with you, punish you, reward you, it lets him suck your magic from you."

Both of their eyes widened in surprise. "What?" Disbelief was in that word as Malfoy gasped it out.

"It's a leech." I explained. I wasn't certain it was, but I could see the psychopath doing it and laughing about it to himself. "It siphons off magic from his marked followers, just a little at a time usually, for him to use. If he needs more magic, he pulls more from you. If he's desperate, he pulls it all from you, and you die, or you're squibbed. He doesn't care, you're just branded cattle to him. In his thinking, he is the only one that matters." I looked at him with his stunned eyes, trying to believe I was lying, but there was a seed of doubt planted now, one I hoped would grow to be a magnificent tree. "Think about it, Heir Malfoy." I turned to his mother. "Lady Malfoy, I urge caution upon your return home tonight. You may find you have an unexpected guest. If you do, I doubt your husband is enjoying the company."

Her wide eyes looked fearful now. "He's really back?" her question came out barely above a whisper.

I nodded. "He is, just as Harry Potter said he was. Now, we must be off as others are waiting for us. Good evening."

I turned and headed towards the castle, Harry and Hermione on my heels. She pulled up beside me. "How do you know all of that?" she questioned. "Who are you?"

I smiled. She was in for a surprise. "My name is John Smith Esbet R'vnsBl'ud."

I slammed to a stop, mouth gaping. What? I tried again. "John Smith Esbet R'vnsBl'ud." Again, I raised my face skyward. "Oh, come on!" I wailed. "My name too?"

I still expected that evil chuckling that never happened.

"You know," Harry stated while observing me, "You look kind of weird when you do that."

"Story of my life today." I told him tiredly as I massaged my temples, then remembered something, spoke a few words quietly as I made some gestures, then touched my fingers to my temples again.

Hermione saw me. "What was that?"

I sighed. "Just something for a headache." I replied, which it was, but one I expected to have a little later. "Come on, Mister Whiskers is going to wonder what happened to us." I headed to the castle once more.

"Headmaster Dumbledore." Hermione huffed.

Without looking at her I said, "You need to get over that reverence for authority figures before it gets you killed young lady."

"The authority figures in the school deserve respect." She shot back.

"Quirrell tried to kill Harry. He let loose a troll in the school that almost killed you. Lockhart was going to mindwipe him but accidentally increased his own IQ a few points by turning himself into an idiot. Moody slash Crouch sent him to Riddle to be killed, Snape has absolutely no respect for him and degrades and belittles him every chance he gets, Dumbledore has done absolutely nothing to help Harry learn how to defend himself from Riddle, sends him back to his abusive relatives every year, has failed to tell him anything at all about his place in this world, sealed his parents wills and illegally made himself Harry's magical guardian and tries to control his life as much as he possibly can. Not one teacher has ever tried to stop the bullying and harassment he has intermittently been subjected to, not even his Head of House from his own housemates. Lupin might possibly, maybe, be the only one who shouldn't be on the list, but he didn't even bother telling Harry who he was or what he knew of his parents so no, he stays right where he is."

I glanced at the girl at my side. "So, if you would, please give me one good reason why I should respect any of the people in charge of this school."

She looked up at me with a truly anguished look but said nothing. As Dorothy had learned in Oz that the wizard was a fraud, so too had she to do.

We arrived at the castle and Harry took the lead, moving to the third floor where I saw something that caused me to turn aside. "Excuse me, I need the loo." I told them.

"Esbet." Hermione called.

"Yes?" I replied as I was about to enter the room.

"That's the boy's room."

I had seen the sign and didn't even give it a thought. Crap, this being a woman thing sucked. I turned aside to the other door.

I didn't need to use the facilities but there was something I needed. Since it was a girl's toilet, there were a lot of them. I moved to the nearest mirror.

Damn, I looked good. Spooky must have pulled the look out of my mind because I was almost exactly how I had envisioned Esbet: full bodied raven black hair pulled into a low pony tail I hadn't even noticed trailing down my back, breasts that were a firm double handful, a trim waist, and long legs. My face was too angular to be called beautiful but was too good looking to be cute or pretty. Strong was how I would describe it, with high cheek bones, a patrician nose that was just the right size and shape, and a mouth that was not too wide, nor too narrow, with lush looking lips. I almost wished I could kiss me.

My eyes, however, were what I thought of as my defining feature. With a very slight slant they almost looked oriental, with long lashes and perfect eyebrows.

It was my eyes themselves that drew the attention, however. The irises were as white as the eyeballs, with only a thin black line around them to differentiate where one stopped and the other began. If you've ever seen a show or movie where someone is supposed to be blind with white contacts, that's what they looked like, only more natural. There had been an actress in the 70's and 80's with eyes like that and I could never decide if they were creepy or sexy as hell. I usually went with sexy.

There was only one difference between the way I looked and my vision of Esbet: I was too young. I had always seen her as a woman who looked in her forties, with a mature, self-confident look. People took her seriously because she looked like someone to be taken seriously.

I, however, looked like I was in my early to mid-twenties, someone to listen to when there's time to sit and think about what I said, but not someone to turn to in a crisis. I was three hundred and thirty-seven years old, but I didn't look it. I looked too much like a kid, and people didn't want to take orders from a kid, no matter how experienced they were.

I couldn't decide whether to kick Spooky's pelvic bone up around his neck or thank him for the look.

Hey, I may not want to be a woman, but if I had to be one, I wanted to be a hot one.

I groaned suddenly at a thought: oh God, I was going to have to learn how to do makeup and hair care. I don't know anything about makeup, and I haven't had enough hair to worry about in years! It reminded me of that Babylon 5 episode where Delenn transforms from a bald Minbari to one with a luxurious mane of soft looking locks of shoulder length hair, only in the next episode to be on the edge of crying because it looks like a frizzed-out rats' nest because she doesn't know how to take care of it. Yeah, that's me.

Up around his neck it is.

With a sigh and a shake of my head I headed out to rejoin the other two. Harry led us down the hall to the stairs leading to Dumbledore's office…where we ran into a problem: we didn't have the password.

"It's always been some kind of candy." Harry told us.

"That could take all night." Hermione replied as she observed the gargoyle.

The statue was truly an impressive piece of rock, big enough to entirely block the access to the stairs, but I could see around it. Some gestures, some words, and suddenly there were three black disks on the floor in front of it. "Step on a disk." I told the two, demonstrating. I appeared behind the gargoyle.

I heard a gasp and a moment later the girl was beside me. Harry arrived a few seconds later with a wide smile. "Blimey! That's so easy! Can you teach me how to do that?"

"How did you do that?" Hermione asked eagerly. "You're not supposed to be able to apparate in Hogwarts. What kind of magic is it?"

"It's sorcery, not magic." I answered. "There's a big difference between the two." I stepped onto the spiral staircase, and we began rising.

"I thought they were the same."

I held my hands up and waggled my fingers. "No wand." I explained.

We arrived at the office door before she could ask anything else and I didn't even knock before entering, figuring why should I when they were waiting for me. Inside was Dumbledore, seated at his desk, Madam Bones seated in an armchair in front of it, Auror Jenkins standing behind a still unconscious Moody secured in a straight-backed chair and I hope he changes soon or I'm going to have a lot of explaining to do, and on a stool behind the desk, in a corner, sat…

"So, the celebrity," he said the word as if he were talking about the most disgusting person on the face of the planet, "deigns to finally grace us with his presence."

I made a motion with my hands, then raised my right one chest high, palm outward, and made a pushing motion. Snape grunted as an invisible column of force smashed him back against the wall and pinned him there. He managed to get his wand out but as he raised it towards me, I made a grabbing/pulling motion with my left, and it snapped into my hand. He groaned painfully as I moved my right hand a fraction of an inch towards him, the pressure he felt on his chest going from that of a person sitting on him, to that of a horse. While I could feel pressure on my palm, it didn't change at all.

I realized I had done both spells wordlessly, meaning I was very high level…oh, tenth I suddenly remembered. Get the hand movements perfect and you can do away with the aural component with the lower-level spells, and gathering the energy to perform them in this place that was virtually flooded with energy was like scooping it out of a bowl with your bare hand. It was a heady feeling.

I heard cries and exclamations as Snape swiped his arms in the area in front of him, in a futile attempt to affect what wasn't there, as he tried to breathe. "Not going to happen, Snape." I announced with a smirk.

"Miss!"

"Shut up, old man." I countered. Short tempered bad ass, yessir! "I'm talking to your spy right at the moment, and if any of those wands pointed at me even come close to being used on me, I'll flatten his heart like a pizza."

I eased off on the pressure, letting him breathe a bit more. "Let…me…go!" he wheezed.

"Suck it up, buttercup." I said back to him in a pleasant tone. "You and I are going to get along, or I'm going to put you in the ground. Now pay attention because there's going to be a test later. I don't like the way you treat Harry." At the scowl he gave me I went "Yeah, yeah, I know, he reminds you of his dad, who was a prick, but it was you who set foot to the path that led to him getting Lily and not you. You could have been the better man, ignored what he and the others did to you, showed her you were better than him, but you didn't, and you know what happened.

Then, to show you could be a bigger, better prick than his father, what did you do when the son of the man you hate the most, the dead man, shows up at school? You take one look at his face and see the dead man of your nightmares and you decide to get back at him, get your revenge, to pay him back for everything he did to you, for taking Lily away from you. You're older, more knowledgeable, more powerful. He can do nothing to you, but you can do anything to him. Never mind the fact he had absolutely nothing to do with what happened between you and his father and doesn't even know why you hate him so. He's helpless to even protect himself from you, much less to retaliate."

My voice was starting to rise in anger, but I didn't care. This man deserved it. "You bullied him, abused him, mentally and psychologically, degraded and humiliated him, tried to make him feel worthless, useless, encouraged others to do likewise, and you were too chickenshite of a coward to even tell him why! Your father taught you well, Severus Tobias Snape, and you learned his teachings to a fine degree."

He froze, going completely still save for the widening of his eyes in shocked surprise. "How did…how did you know?"

"I read the book, you as…"

"Enough of this!" the old man roared, and it went deathly silent. I released Snape, letting him slide down the wall, to turn to the whiskered one. My eyes narrowed as I glared at him. With contemptuous ease I raised my hand and snapped my fingers, trusting that the silencing spell he had used did the same thing I could do with my sorcery: still the movement of air molecules in a given space caused by vibrations, but otherwise not affecting them.

The sharp crack let me know I'd been right. "Use that wand against me again and I'll take it away from you and shove it where the sun don't shine." I said quietly, hearing a shocked gasp from Hermione behind me.

Dumbledore looked slightly shocked as well at how easily I had cancelled his spell. After all, he was the strongest wizard in England. Nobody should be able to cancel one of his spells with just a finger snap.

"Ma'am!" Jenkins' anxious cry grabbed all our attention. He'd backed away from the chair the faux Moody was bound to. The man was still unconscious but now it looked like he had living creatures under his skin trying to escape as bumps and nodules bubbled upwards before collapsing. His pegleg fell from the end of his stump, even as a tiny foot and leg began to grow down from it. His nose re-grew as his eye reappeared in its socket.

In less than a minute, the man looking like Alastor Moody changed into a different, whole, and complete, person altogether. Madam Bones grabbed his hair and pulled his face up where she could see it. "Barty Jr." she exclaimed, then looked at her subordinate. "Portkey him back to headquarters and put him in the cell next to Pettigrew. Let everybody know that no one but me gets in to see either one. Anybody who does let someone other than me in will spend an indeterminate amount of time in a high security cell in Azkaban, understand?" at a quick nod, she said "Go." A moment later the two men were gone.

She turned towards me, but before she could say anything, I interrupted. "If you don't mind, could you do a few of those for the three of us to use?" I indicated the comfortable looking armchair she'd been sitting in. "I've had a really hard day, Hermione has been all stressed out worrying about Harry tonight, and he's exhausted from the task and fighting Riddle and is suffering from cruciatus exposure and since Madam Pomphrey is probably working with a very irritable and uncooperative Alastor Moody, it would be nice to sit down until she can get here."

Her eyebrow rose a bit in confusion, but she waved her wand and the three chairs appeared. "I'm surprised you didn't do it yourself as powerful a witch as you appear to be."

"That's because I can't." I explained. "I'm not a witch, I'm a sorcerer…rr...rress." I really tried but Spooky had his hooks set in deep. "Damn it." If he could do so much to me and wanted me to be a woman, why hadn't he just whammied my brain and made me think I was a woman?

"She does that a lot." Harry said helpfully, looking around at the confused faces.

"I have heard you state that several times tonight, Miss…?" Dumbledore asked.

"Esbet R'vensBl'ud." I supplied, being careful not to look him in the eyes.

"Yes, Miss R'vensBl'ud. What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, sorcery and magic are not the same thing. You can do impossible seeming things with magic you cannot do with sorcery, transfiguration being but one of them. You can turn a pickle into a bull elephant, cloth into silver, a small stone into a rock wall, conjure something out of nothing. You can change the volume of something, its density, its mass. You can do all of that and totally violate the laws of physics.

With sorcery, however, you can't do any of that. In sorcery there is no transfiguration, there is transformation and transmutation. With transformation I can change a thing's shape, its volume, its density. What you do not want me to do is perform transmutation on it into something else."

Madame Bones, who had taken her seat as well, spoke up. "Why not?"

I looked at Hermione. "What was the first thing you ever transfigured?" I asked.

"A matchstick into a needle." She replied.

"A wooden matchstick, basically just carbon, into a steel needle, which is just refined iron with just a hint of carbon." I stated. She nodded. "Now, think carefully. According to the law of physics, what would happen if you fused enough atoms of a lighter element together until they formed a heavier one?"

Her eyes widened so much I thought her eyeballs would pop out her head even as her jaw dropped open. She was so used to ignoring what magic did by ignoring those laws, she had forgotten the implications of what could happen if it didn't. "Oh! Merlin!"

"Miss Granger?"

She sat in shock as Dumbledore attempted to gain her attention. Turning to look at him, in a small voice she said, "It would obliterate the castle, quite possibly, probably, destroy Hogsmeade." She told him in a quiet, stunned voice.

"That's not possible!" That blurted exclamation came from Madam Bones.

"Yes, it is." Surprisingly, that statement came from Snape, who was now sitting on his stool staring at me.

Amelia didn't want to believe it. "A matchstick, destroy Hogwarts? You have to be joking."

He turned his gaze to her. "At the end of Grindelwald's war, the Americans forced the surrender of the Japanese empire by dropping two bombs, one each on a city. Those bombs worked opposite the matchstick to a needle, it turned the needle into a matchstick, heavier to lighter. If I remember correctly, only a fraction of the material they used, mere ounces, was changed. The energy released was much less, but each of those cities was totally destroyed. They later learned how to do it the matchstick-to-needle way and the results were a large multiple of destructive force."

She stared back at him in horrified disbelief. "How is that possible?"

"The mundanes have a formula for it." Hermione explained. "E=MC squared, where E is energy, M is mass times C, the speed of light, squared. They calculate the speed of light to be three hundred thousand kilometers per second, so even a matchstick, probably weighing less than a gram, has an enormous amount of energy contained in it. More than enough to destroy this castle and kill everyone in it."

Even Dumbledore had a dumbfounded look on his face as he took in the implications. Amelia looked at me in horror as I smiled back at her. "So, if you, trans…muted anything…"

I grinned. "It go BOOM!"

A/N: Ah hah! She has a name! A wonderful, beautiful name! It fits her so well. But do not think this is me inserting myself into Jo's wonderful world. I have never been a man and there's nothing wrong with Draco being a hunk that a collar and leash and a cane, and a crop and a chastity cage couldn't cure. But enough about me at least for now on to some answers to reviews!

W0lfgang: That's not an apostrophe, that's a test to see how observant everyone is. Um, yeah, what I just said. You win the prize.

Marlastiano: The highest acclaim from such a highly respected and knowledgeable critic: an entire sentence! A short one, but still a sentence. I have reached the pinnacle of my career. My humble thanks are yours.

THR: BC Jr didn't.

Cam1812: As you rightly should.

Farewell my friends and well-wishers, until next chapter keep those reviews coming!