Chapter 13 : Slithering Around
Bridget Mallow was a rational girl.
She did not believe in divination, astrology, arithmancy or any other mumbo-jumbo meant to trick the simple-minded. Her days were strictly organised and she planned everything in advance, leaving nothing to chance if she could avoid it. Her education, her post-graduation apprenticeship, her future employment at her uncle's workshop ... every part of her life and future had been clearly defined and prepared for a long time and she worked every day to make it a reality.
Life, however, did not care one bit for anyone's desires.
She could still picture the exact moment her carefully crafted dreams had crumbled all around her, on the evening of the first of November. Her fifth year had begun much as the previous one, with only the Headmaster's and Potter's delusions to break the monotony of life in the castle instead of a deadly tournament or a mass murderer prowling the grounds.
She had just come out of a transfiguration exam where she had expertly vanished a single coloured thread from a spool of yarn, earning herself an Outstanding as usual, when a special edition of the Daily Prophet had arrived. While she had known of Malfoy's dad becoming the Minister the previous day, she did not expect it to affect her beyond having to tolerate his preening in the common room for a few weeks.
How wrong she had been.
The Prophet's announcement of these new "taxes" had broken through her dreams and certainty. While she was a half-blood, her mother and uncle were muggle-borns, and their family was nowhere near wealthy enough to afford these new fees to keep the shop open. And as if the floor beneath her feet was falling apart one stone at a time, this had only been the beginning, with each week bringing its share of devastating new policies while her housemates rejoiced all around her.
With her future broken and her spirit ground to dust with each new edition of the Prophet, she began to lose herself. Sleep eluded her, her schoolwork was neglected and she grew even more isolated from her peers. She must have looked like a ghost, merely going through the motions of life, waiting for the final blow to come. It was no wonder Tracey had seemed so sure of herself when she had approached her to let her in on her "Potter plan".
Which was still a stupid name, no matter what she said.
The group had the equally stupid goal of spying on Potter, well-known prick with delusions of grandeur and suspected murderer of Cedric Diggory, to gain some leverage and bargain for his protection. Because yes, they apparently needed protection. As if the Ministry going mad wasn't bad enough, Goyle had managed to convince Davis and Greengrass that Potter was actually sane and that the Dark Lord was responsible for everything happening lately.
Why was this her life now?
What had she done to deserve this?
And yet ... knowing that she was not alone, that others not only faced the same grim outlooks as she did, but chose to rise against it? That she had friends who would lend an ear to her woes and worries and understand ?
It helped. It helped her so much.
Slowly, he picked the pieces of herself off the ground and tried to build a new life for herself. One that now included this shoddy band of outliers in their house. They met in dusty classrooms and supply closets deep in the dungeons, whispering and plotting how to approach the elusive Gryffindor far from wandering ears. Since before she even joined, they had tailed Potter and his friends, eavesdropping on their conversation and attempting to probe him as subtly as possible. Unfortunately for them, the boy was as dense as a brick.
The absolute worst scheme they had come up with had even cost Bridget a hard-won date during one of Slughorn's parties. Nylah was still not talking to her after she had abandoned her to cling to Potter all night.
And she hadn't even learned anything!
Months of tracking and spying and they were not any closer to knowing whatever Potter was hiding, though the timing of the recent disappearance of a Hufflepuff from his group and an attack on the Ministry did give them some ideas...
And now, a drugged-up Tracey was herding them through the entire castle and through a fake wall in what was bound to be another fool's errand.
If this was just another secret passage to the third-floor toilets, she was burning Tracey's trunk.
Humming a song to herself and wearing the feathered helm of a suit of armour, Tracey let her feet guide her through the hidden corridor. Everything had gone just right this morning. From Draco's little accident with a third-year potion experience in the common room, making sure he would not notice them sneaking about, to Finch-Fletchley and his friends unknowingly leading them to their secret hideout.
Today was a good day.
She finally stopped in front of a large oval-shaped door in front of a hilarious tapestry of a wizard chased by Trolls in tutus. She had never seen a door such as this, and definitely not in Hogwarts. Its polished metal surface looked more like nacre than the steel of her helm and clashed horrendously with the stone wall and the medieval decor.
"Isn't that..." Millicent was staring at the tapestry, where the wizard was climbing up a tree and uselessly flailing his wand toward the Trolls. Behind her, the others were arriving, with a very moody Daphne closing the march. "But I thought this hallway had disappeared..."
Though the important locations like the great hall usually remained in the same place, the castle had always been whimsical with its halls and rooms. Some appeared and disappeared at random while others were only present on certain days of the week or if the weather allowed it. One week the corridor on the right-hand side of the history classroom would lead to the defence tower and the next it would end at the feet of the astronomy tower. With time, the students learned to navigate the changing halls, but every new term brought its share of surprises.
Tracey was half-convinced Dumbledore was the one doing it, most likely to mess with McGonagall.
"This is it, people. The end of the road." She could almost feel that what they were looking for was right behind this door, Felix singing in her veins as she brought down the visor of a helm she knew she would need. "Forward!"
As if reacting to her approach, the door split in two, the halves sliding into the frames, revealing a well-lit room made entirely of the same smooth metal and filled with crates and furniture. She could hear the others hesitating, whispering among themselves before they finally followed her, leaving behind the warm and welcoming halls of Hogwarts for this strange unknown.
"So we found a storage room. Wonderful." Despite the sarcasm, Daphne's voice lacked its usual certainty and one might even hear a hint of worry underneath the defeatism. "And with our luck, it's probably just a stash of dungbombs or whatever."
Undeterred, Tracey led the way to the door across the room, only to stop in her tracks once she stepped into the corridor beyond. As the others walked around her, they stopped in turn, bemused as she was by the impossible sight beyond a window so transparent it might as well not exist.
Tracey took off her helm, now a useless prop that blocked her view of what she had only seen through a telescope, dropping it to the ground with a clang that brought a few others out of their trance flinching.
"This ... this can't be..."
"What in Slytherin's—"
A retching sound interrupted Daphne before she could corrupt the impressionable minds among them, bringing the rest of them back to their senses.
"Oh right. Dixon and wide spaces." Tearing her gaze from the impossible spectacle, Tracey turned to see one of the second year emptying his breakfast in the upturned helm she had abandoned. "So that's why I need that." As the others stepped away, disgust clear on their faces, Tracey came to pat his back reassuringly. "It's alright. Take your time."
"How the hell did you get in here?"
As one, everyone in their group, with the notable exception of Dixon, turned to see an aghast Anthony Goldstein, dressed in that strange bronze single-piece bodysuit with what looked like blue armour parts. For a few seconds, everyone around her remained frozen like deers caught in the headlights, the silence only disturbed by Dixon's further efforts to rid himself of last night's dinner.
"We're a bit busy here, Goldstein. We'll be with you in a minute."
Gregory Goyle was sitting on one side of a large oblong table in a sparsely decorated room. Wooden furniture clashed with the metal of the walls and a couple of potted plants sat in the corners, failing to bring some sort of life to a room that did not seem to see many visitors. Not far, Tracey and Daphne were looking through a window that stretched through the length of one of the walls, giving them a view of the other arm of the massive metal structure they had found themselves in.
"No one can need that many windows." Daphne crossed her arms, her severe expression betrayed by the nervous looks she sent to their hosts every few seconds. "They barely even bring any light to the rooms!"
"Oh come on Daph." Tracey, for her part, looked like a child who had just gained a lifetime supply of Honeydukes' finest. "I'd also put windows everywhere if I had a view like that."
The sound of someone clearing their throat brought back their attention toward the doorway, where none other than Potter—flanked by Weasley and Abbot— looked none too impressed.
"I hope you realise you've put us in quite a complicated situation."
Nonplussed, Gregory simply shrugged while everyone else took their seats. They would have almost looked like a regular study group if not for the two red and gold figures in full armour on either side of the only door, their features hidden by smooth metal helmets. Those two had brought them here, wand in hand, and had not said one word since, seemingly content to watch over them as long as they didn't get too close to the exit.
"Says the one who had us locked up like criminals."
"I think we've been more than accommodating given the circumstances. From what I've been told, you and your friends somehow bypassed our security measures and trespassed onto the station uninvited."
"Please. If you didn't want people walking in here, you shouldn't have left a door in the middle of the castle."
"That door," Weasley frowned, leaning forward. "was hidden in an invisible corridor, layered with twenty-seven different charms meant to deter any intrusion and warn us in the eventuality of a breach. And somehow, you managed to waltz through all of that and just walk in here like you were invited. I want to know how."
"Simple. We followed Finch-Fletchley and his friends."
"Trace!"
"What? It's true."
"I see." Faced with Tacey's beaming smile, it was Potter's turn to frown. He sent a stern look to Abbot who kept tapping on a weird flat rectangle made of the same weird metal as the walls but with some incrustations that looked more like polished ivory. "I assume you had a good reason to do so?"
"Well, you and your friends haven't exactly been subtle this past year. Going around the castle with your bodysuits, leaving your dorms, disappearing from the castle sometime for days at a time."
"And you wanted to know where we went?"
"Not exactly." If looks could curse, the one Daphne was giving Tracey would have sent her for a year-long stay at St Mungo's. It did nothing to dampen Tracey's enthusiasm, however. "See, we've spent a while trying to find out what you've been doing. We had some ideas, of course, but no actual proof. Some of the stuff we heard from our families or in the hallways—"
"So you were spying on us?"
"No! Well, okay, we were, but that's not—"
"You are fighting the Dark Lord."
Gregory's statement cut Tracey's rambling short and brought all the attention toward him. Unconcerned by the stares, his own remained locked with Potter's, unyielding.
"And what if we are?"
"Then I want in."
This did not seem to be what they had been expecting. While Daphne's face disappeared in her hands as she mourned the death of subtlety, surprise and confusion replaced anger and suspicion on the other side of the table. Even the two guards broke their statue routine and looked at each other in what one could have called shock if their expressions had been visible.
"That's ... unexpected." Potter pulled himself together, sitting up straight. "But since I know for a fact that your father is a Death Eater, I'm not sure we can take your word for it. Especially since we have never been on the best of terms."
"I have a brother. He's a painter, making portraits and everything. He's always been the smart one, studying and making things. He didn't want to do it, but Father forced him to take the Mark. When he failed a mission, he was tortured so bad he lost his arm." His voice cracked as the memories played once more in his mind. "He can't paint anymore." Gregory took a few shallow breaths before composing himself, taking comfort in the hand Daphne had placed on his shoulder. "That's not how Father and Draco said things were going to be. I don't want to serve a monster."
No one seemed to want to break the silence. Daphne was scowling at them, silently warning of the consequences for anyone foolish enough to try to laugh at him and even Tracey had lost some of her exuberance.
Potter didn't laugh though. Nor did his cronies. He simply watched Greg for a while before looking at her and Trace.
"I see ... And you?"
"Some of us are in similar situations. Mostly, we just want an out from this whole thing. Some of the stuff they're doing out there might have sounded nice on paper, but ... it's terrifying. I don't want to be a part of that when I graduate. And at the rate things are going, we're not going to be given a choice."
"There's still one thing I don't understand." Weasley seemed to have calmed down. At least he had stopped looking at them like they were particularly offending insects that had found their way onto his plate. "Why did you seek us out? You had no way of knowing what we were doing. Dumbledore's the one organising the resistance and his office isn't that hard to find."
"Don't flatter yourself, Weasley." Daphne scoffed. "Like I said, you haven't exactly been as subtle as you seem to think. The disappearances? The way you lot strutted around when Umbridge left? McMillan and your injuries when the entire Floo network went down?"
"Dumbledore trusts Snape." Gregory shook his head. "And Snape is the Dark Lord's spy. If we went to him, the Dark Lord would know and kill our families."
"Though we didn't expect whatever all of this is." Tracey peeked up, regaining some of her previous energy. "Could we talk about that by the way? Because I have questions!"
"We'll get to that. Maybe. But if you know about Ernie, you understand that what we're doing isn't without risk."
"What isn't these days? That's why we need your help. Some of us can fight, but most of these kids?" For the first time since she had stepped on the station, Tracey was not smiling. All traces of excitement and wonder had disappeared, leaving a cold determination in their place. "They need a safe place to stay. There's no way I'm sending them back to their parents once summer comes around."
"We can't let them go."
Having left their ''guests'' behind, Harry had retreated to a nearby lab with Ron, Hannah and Zacharias. With a breach of security this important, he would have preferred to have all of his Commanders here. Unfortunately, most of the crew was currently onboard Requirement on the other side of the system for a training flight, leaving him with only two of them and Angelina's second. This had become a problem far sooner than anticipated. As soon as they were back, he would have Terry look into long-range communications.
"We can't exactly keep them locked up either, Ron." Harry was pacing around the room, anxious to do something instead of just standing around while his worst fears were coming to life two rooms down. "Their absence might have already been noticed."
"So what, we make them promise to stay quiet and release them into the castle? We'll have Death Eaters at the door by dinner."
"Not all Slytherins are supporters of You-Know-Who." Hannah "Tracey's my friend, she would never betray us like that."
"Fat lot of good that does us when we have a dozen more down the hall. You can vouch for them too?"
"What's your problem, Weasley?" Zacharias stepped in, stopping Hannah's rebuttal. "They wear green and suddenly they're the enemy?"
"My problem, Smith, is the security of this station and everyone on it. My job."
"Ooooh, your job . How noble of you to be wary of twelve years old. For Helga's sake, Weasley..."
Uncrossing his arms, Ron walked up to Zacharias, towering over him as he stood his ground under his glare.
"They all but confessed that their parents are Death Eaters, and we all know what's going on in their house these days. Even if we trust them, it's only a matter of time until they let something slip, even by accident, and we'll have the entire Auror force banging down your little lab."
"You sure talk big about people's families when your own brother has his nose up the Minister's arse."
"That's enough!"
At Harry's shout, Ron's fist stopped inches from Zacharias' face. With a scornful glare, he walked away, sitting down heavily on the far side of the room. Hannah slapped Zacharias in the arm and a warning look before he leaned on the table next to her, his own glare never leaving Ron.
"We'll talk about this later." Harry sternly looked at the two of them. "For now, you're both right. I don't think they represent a danger for us by themselves, but we can't just let them go."
"Maybe we could obliviate them?" Hannah proposed. "That way we'd be sure they wouldn't tell anyone."
"No." Harry shook his head at Justin. "None of us really know the charm and I've seen what even a successful one does to someone. We're not inflicting this on anyone. Besides, they asked for our help."
"So what? They're not the only ones in need. We have safe houses full of families everywhere in the country. We could find a place where they could lay low."
"Maybe ... But I think I have a better idea. Hannah, you still have a few contracts lying around, right?"
"—and for reasons we haven't been able to figure out yet, they ran out of power while exploring our solar system thousands of years ago. Life support eventually failed and killed the whole crew, leaving the ship adrift until we discovered it and replaced the power source."
"So we're aboard a giant metal box floating in space and it's already killed its entire crew once. Charming."
As far as learning went, following Michael Corner as he droned on about the ship barely rated above Binns' lectures. Leave it to him to make the explanation of the madness Daphne and the others had stumbled upon as dry as McGonnagal's knickers. Still, despite his dreadful lack of enthusiasm, he had at least been thorough in this little tour of his.
And what a tour it had been.
Beings from other planets? Technology thousands of years old and yet more advanced than she'd ever understand? How they had built this entire station out of nothing? The fact that Potter of all people was in charge of it all?
It boggles the mind to think that they had been hiding all of that from everyone. Worse yet, now they had to do it too!
While Trace and Greg had jumped at the opportunity, they had all but strong-armed her into signing these damn magical contracts. They were now bound to stay silent and could not reveal anything about this madness to anyone on Earth until such time that the Dark Lord was no longer a threat. Fat chances of that.
Though if this ship was as functional as they claimed, maybe they didn't need to return at all...
She could all too easily think of worse fates than sailing across the stars while the idiotic adults on Earth got their crap together.
For all her reservations, she couldn't deny that all this alien stuff was big. Like, world changing big. They would have been foolish to deny the invitation. And it's not like she was that opposed to the idea in the first place. She just had some trouble wrapping her head around it. The cold shoulder and suspicious stares from everyone on board didn't exactly help either. Though she'd take that every day of the week as long as she didn't have to deal with Loony Lovegood anymore.
"It really is. It's a bit big, though and we only use a small part of it. The station is even bigger since it needs to store what it mines from the planet. Oh, and try to avoid the starboard decks for now, the engineers tried something with capacitors yesterday and we still haven't patched up all the holes."
Very reassuring.
"And when do we get suits like yours so we won't die if we open the wrong door?"
"Not yet. You'll need to prove you are trustworthy before we give you any gear or access to the most sensitive parts of the ship."
"How are we supposed to do that if you don't give us anything to work with?"
"Don't know. And to be frank, I don't care. I'm only here because I drew the short wand when the Captain asked for someone on our team to show you around."
"And I'm here to guard you!" Luna piped up enthusiastically. "We're still not sure if the ship's haunted, you know. There might be ghosts floating around that we haven't seen yet. So stay close and don't wander off."
Her eye twitching, Daphne struggled to keep her mouth shut and tried to tune the nonsense out. Despite her best efforts, however, she still ended up looking over her shoulder every time a noise echoed in the halls of the ship the following week.
"You apologise to him."
"What?"
"Apologise."
"Seamus, it's alright."
"No, it's not."
"But I-"
The door hissed, revealing a Harry Potter who did not like what he had walked on one bit.
"What the hell is going on here?"
This lounge was one of the smaller ones that dotted the arms of the station, used when people did not want to trek to the large one in the central axis. Its proximity to the training room made it a regular hang-out spot for the combat team especially, though only two of them were present at the moment and at opposite ends of an argument.
"I just wanted to know about-" Goyle attempted to defend himself.
"Just wanted to know? Then why the hell did call him a Mudblood?"
"But that's not what I meant."
Great. As if this whole cohabitation thing wasn't hard enough already.
Behind Seamus, Justin looked far more embarrassed and uncomfortable at the scene than hurt, and even gave a pleading look to Harry.
"Enough!"
Used to orders by now, Seamus clenched his jaw, another shout dying in his throat while Goyle stood straight, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"You used that slur?"
"Yes, but not-"
"I don't care. There's no excuse. As long as you're under my command, I won't tolerate this blood purism shite. Apologise."
Goyle turned toward Justin with clenched fists, deliberately avoiding looking at Seamus.
"I'm sorry."
"It's alright." Justin shook his head. "I could tell you didn't mean it like that."
"He's not even-"
"And you." Harry interrupted Seamus, his tone no less angry. "We're all in the same boat here. You have a problem with someone, you bring it to Hannah or me. Is that clear?"
"But-"
"Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir." Seamus said behind clenched teeth, glaring at Goyle.
"Good. Now go back to your rooms for the night before I make you all scrub the hull or something."
Without another word, the three boys left the room and went their separate ways, Justin giving a grateful nod to Harry as they went.
Once alone, Harry slumped onto the sofa with a tired sigh.
With altercations like this one occurring every other day, the past week had been ... Trying. Nonetheless, by most accounts, their new crew members had taken well to their new duties, despite the restrictions they had imposed on them.
It didn't stop him from wondering if he had made the wrong choice.
"Think you can pop by the conjurator after this Tony? The mandrakes are getting a bit too old for their pots and we don't have enough soil to fill the new ones."
"Yeah, just let me finish with this one." Anthony stepped back from a large Venomous Tentacula, holding shears in his gloved hands. "The little bugger isn't happy with my trimming."
"Because you're cutting it too close to the main vine." Neville put down the large pot he was carrying to join him near the trays filled with the fanged plants. "You need to leave a bit of-"
The door on the far side of the room opened and Hannah stepped into their not-so-little garden, closely followed by two other girls in green-trimmed robes. Stopping in his tracks, Neville nervously wiped his hands on his thick leather apron and gave a quick look around to make sure the place wasn't too messy. They'd moved around some shoots in the morning to try out a new fertilizer and—
"Ouch!" Neville turned around, wand in hand, to see Anthony pulling off his left glove to inspect his wrist, where a nasty purple bulge was growing by the second. "Damn thing bit me."
Sighing as he felt the tension leave his body, Neville put his wand away.
"You should get to the infirmary. Their poison isn't lethal, but it'll hurt like hell in a few minutes."
"Great ... See you later."
Holding his wrist, Anthony walked away as Hannah approached, the two newcomers following her giving him apprehensive looks.
"Hello, Neville."
"H-hello." Not knowing what to do with his hands, Neville picked up the abandoned shears. "What brings you down here? Not that you're not welcome, it's just—we don't get many visitors."
"That might change sooner than you think." Hannah smiled, turning toward her charges. "This is Astoria, Daphne's sister, and you already know Millicient, of course."
"Right, of course. Welcome to the crew." After sharing classes with her for five years, it would have been hard not to know the dour girl who gave him a gruff huff. No changes there it seemed. Though it was at least better than Astoria, who stood a good head smaller than her housemate and kept looking at the plants around them fearfully as if she thought they would attack her at any moment. "You're introducing them to everyone?"
"Not exactly. Millicent here is quite interested in herbology you see." Crossing her arms, the girl in question gave him a cold look and raised her chin, daring him to comment on it. "I thought that she could give you and Anthony a hand since you're doing a lot of work for two people."
"Really? That'd be great. We definitely could use the help."
While a good part of the plants they had brought aboard Requirement and Neptune station were for their enjoyment, the garden and greenhouses had quickly become a vital part of their life in space. Although the conjurator could make all the food and tools they could wish for, it remained incapable of replicating the magical properties and enchantments of the object they tried to replicate.
A conjured broom would only be useful to sweep the floor and any attempt to replicate a potion would only yield weird-tasting drinks. With the war closing more of their suppliers every week and the prospect of leaving Earth behind to explore the galaxy, they had decided to become their own suppliers and started growing their ingredients. Of course, the animal parts were still a problem, but there was a rumour going around that Lavender was in talks with magical reserves and menageries to procure a few.
Merlin, he hoped they didn't try to bring a Nundu or a Dragon on board.
Anyway, difficult help was better than no help, and they sure could use an extra pair of hands. Hopefully, she would warm up to them soon enough.
"Perfect." Damn, her smile was bright. He would not mind seeing it more often. Maybe he could find an excuse to visit her tomorrow? "Astoria isn't sure of what she'd like to do yet so I've been showing her what everyone is doing. Do you think you could accompany her for the afternoon and—"
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"
"The catch of the day, dear brother."
The four of them looked up to the high branches of the trees that grazed the ceiling far above where a pair of red-haired twins sat comfortably. Resting Between them on the branch was a cartoonishly large and garishly coloured bomb of all things, leaving no doubt to their intentions.
"And what a catch! Two of which we haven't had the pleasure to meet yet, even."
"A travesty, if there ever was one."
"Fred, George..." Her grin had disappeared, replaced by caution as she moved herself between Astoria and the twins. "I don't know what you're planning but this is not the time for pranks."
"Aww, don't be like that Hannah." With a wide smile, one of them gave a few pats to the oversized bomb. "We just wanted to share some of the amazing things this ship can do with our guests."
"Guys, this isn't funny." Putting aside the shears, Neville stepped in front of Hannah, wand in hand. "We have rare plants we'd have a hard time finding again in here."
"You hurt me, Neville."
"You? What about me?"
"Us. You hurt us."
"Better."
"Hush you." Turning aside bring the bickering, the twin—Fred maybe?—brought up his wand to the very short fuze. "You'd think you would have learned by now that nothing can stop us."
A small flame emerged from the tip of the wand, lighting the fuze as the twins pushed the bomb over the edge.
Hannah threw herself on top of Astoria while Millicent dove behind a tree for cover. Raising his wand high, Neville materialized a glimmering shield in mid-air, only for the bombe to pass right through it, falling unimpaired toward them as the fuze ran out.
Neville shut his eyes and shielded his head with his arms moments before the laugh of the twins and the loud explosion was heard ... but not felt.
"Hmm ... Not enough sugar I think."
"I told you! And it's not solid enough. You were too heavy-handed with the milk."
He opened his eyes, expecting to see his garden ravaged and greenhouses devastated, only to see the ground covered in thick white cream. Standing in the middle of the white sea that had somehow spared everything and everyone else, the twins were tasting the cream as if nothing was amiss.
"Guys ... What the hell?"
"Ah! Back with us?"
"What do you think Nev? Is it good?"
"I don't..." He looked down at his clothes, finding no trace of the cream. He looked back at the twins, bewildered. "What is this?"
"A bit slow, innit?" One of the twins—he was pretty sure this was George now—took a handful of cream off the floor and offered it to him. "Why don't you have a taste?"
With an uncertain hand, Neville tried to take a piece, only for his hand to pass right through George's, which became a multicoloured blur for an instant before reforming itself, prompting another laughing fit.
Looking around once more, making sure that nothing had been damaged and taking in the absurdity of the situation, Neville finally let himself relax and joined in their laughter while the others stood back up.
"Your plants are fine. Nothing to fear."
"We've found this nifty little program and we just had to try it out."
"Holograms! What do you think?"
"Bloody confusing, that's what. So you aren't really here?"
"Nope!"
"We're in the main storage room right now."
"In hindsight, not the best place to detonate a cream bomb. Everything is covered in it now."
"Alright, I admit, this was good." Neville pocketed his wand, a large grin on his face as he tried to repress another laugh. "Though you really should have tied it from further away."
"Please, who do you take us for? This is nothing."
"This thing has a range of thousands of kilometres."
"We already managed to surprise Lee back in Diagon when Requirement was in orbit yesterday."
"Not what I meant."
In the corner of his eye, he could see Astoria drying her tears in Millicent's robes while Hanna opened the door, wand in hand.
"Weasleys!"
"If I were you, I wouldn't have done it from the next room over."
The twins looked at each other in terror before turning tails. They tried to run for a door only them saw, but slipped in the cream and fell head-first in it before their image disappeared, returning the garden to its pristine glory.
"So, girls." Neville turned toward them with his most reassuring smile. "Want to see what we've been working on lately?