Chapter Seven

Unfortunately, when morning came, Harry still wasn't sure whether he had actually heard the bone-chilling voice or not. Hence, he discussed the matter with Ron and Hermione while eating a full English breakfast in the Great Hall. Unfortunately, the redhead's reply was not encouraging.

"I don't know Harry, but hearing voices isn't a good thing, even in the wizarding world. Don't tell anyone else about this; people will think you're crazy or something."

Hermione rolled her eyes and scoffed at Ron's paranoia.

"Really, Ron. Harry, your workload is probably just making you stressed. I read that when you're stressed, you can sometimes start hearing voices."

Hermione's explanation seemed plausible to the bespectacled mage, but his gut told him that she was missing something. He thus made a snap decision.

"I'm telling Bart about this."

Hermione hesitantly nodded.

"Fair enough, Harry. He did explain why you were repressing that memory."

They both turned and gave Ron very sharp looks.

A year ago, Ron would have vehemently disagreed, but now he simply sighed in resignation.

They'll do it even if I say no. Besides, Simpson's not worth fighting over. If he thinks that Harry's a nutter and stops talking to him, then great. "Yeah, whatever."

Harry and Hermione exchanged meaningful looks before the boy began writing.

Just moments before, Bart was conversing with Gemma.

"So why did Snape tell you not to go after those losers?"

Gemma frowned.

"He already gave them a detention for calling you a Mudblood. He also said that he would have Dumbledore strip me of my position if I defied him."

Bart scowled.

"Wow, he's even a prick to his favourite students. Just your luck that you ran into him."

"I know", Gemma sighed.

Just then, the parchment inside Bart's pocket began burning.

Dammit Harry, couldn't you have picked a better time? the perturbed preteen thought before whispering into Gemma's ear.

"Harry's writing me."

Gemma's eyes widened before cupping her chin with her hand.

"If he's writing to you in front of the entire school, then it must be important."

"That's what I'm thinking."

"Fine, go."

Bart nodded, exclaiming "MAKE WAY, GOTTA POOP!", with raging laughter following him as he fled.

Gemma facepalmed in frustration.

Very subtle, Bart.

But Bart cared not for subtlety, but for reading Harry's message. So, he barged into an empty classroom before pulling the parchment out.

"Bart, I heard voices last night."

Bart chuckled.

"It was probably Drainy crying like a bitch."

"Bart, I'm serious!"

"Hey, so am I."

"Yeah, OK. Anyway, it was talking about ripping and tearing and killing."

"Ah, so it's into the ol' rip and tear, hey? Did it sound like Satan?"

"No, it actually sounded more like a snake."

"Coooooooool", Bart replied as he suddenly thought of Strangles, his old snake.

"Well, it didn't sound cool when I heard it."

"Look, don't worry about it, man. You're just imagining things, that's all. Now, if you don't mind, I'll be finishing breakfast. Later."

"Sure, Bart."

Speaking of breakfast, Gemma wasn't the only person that Bart had distracted from their breakfast.

"Look at him, disgracing Slytherin again. Honestly, can't Mudbloods at least learn some manners?" Pansy remarked as she saw Bart bolt out of the hall.

"Well, he is a piece of filth, Pansy", Draco muttered as he caressed his hair with his fingers.

Pansy appraised him with concern.

"What's wrong, Draco?"

"It's just that I can't believe that Snape gave me a detention for attacking Simpson. I mean, I was only defending Slytherin. He should have awarded me!"

"I know, Draco. What Snape did to you was awful. Absolutely awful."

Draco shook his head in self-pity before suddenly remembering something.

"You know, Pansy, we have potions straight after this…"

They shared a truly evil smile as they realised what that meant.

However, Bart was blissfully unaware of their machinations as Neville helped him brew a Swelling Solution. As he stirred away, the boisterous brujito lightened up proceedings with some small talk.

"Hey Neville, where do you think Captain Hook's at?"

"Perhaps he is right behind you", a sinister voice, one cold enough to freeze helium, cut in.

Ay carumba! a startled Bart thought, turning around to find Professor Snape sneering at him.

"And I must say that I'm most flattered by that nickname. Nicolas Flamel himself would be humbled by your brilliance."

"Hey, who isn't?" Bart asked, hiding his discomfort behind a jocular tone.

"Indeed, Simpson. Speaking of brilliance, Professor Sprout was most impressed by how you renovated the Whomping Willow."

"Well, I always wanted to go into interior design."

"I can see why. Not everybody can blast a tree branch off the Whomping Willow."

"Why, I've no idea what you mean, Professor Snape", Bart airily replied.

"Then maybe this will jog your memory. Do you remember that Aston Martin you so skilfully drove into the Great Hall?"

"Yeaaahhh?"

"I inspected it before the Farleys' house elf took it away. Guess what I found?"

"What?"

"A 'BOMBARDA' button."

"A mere coincidence."

"And it's a mere coincidence that you'll be serving detention for the next week."

Bart melodramatically clutched his chest while looking as affronted as possible.

"But you already gave me a detention, Professor."

"Yes, for driving a car into the Great Hall, not for damaging the Whomping Willow. It may have escaped your notice, Simpson, but they are two entirely different offences."

"OK, but a whole week? Isn't that going a bit overboard? I mean, I am a Slytherin."

Professor Snape leant forwards and regaled the boy with a truly chilling grin.

Oh great, another nominee for 'The Big Book of British Smiles'.

"If you were a Gryffindor, I'd make you serve a month's worth."

Bart laughed nervously.

"Oh wow, that's some discount, huh?"

"Indeed, Simpson. Now finish your potion. Heaven knows that Longbottom can't", Professor Snape remarked, giving Neville a scathing look before storming off.

"Serves you right for behaving like such a prat, Bart."

"Oh great, the cavalry's here", Bart snarked. "Are you gonna lecture me too, Germ-ione?"

Hermione momentarily scowled before pressing on.

"Not exactly. It's just that I read something interesting in the newspaper some weeks ago."

"Wow, that sounds so fascinating whythehellshouldIcare?"

"Because", Hermione replied in an increasingly clipped tone, "I read that an Aston Martin mysteriously went missing from Newport Pagnell."

"Ahh, mysteries. They make the world go round."

Hermione's face twisted into a truly ugly snarl as she grabbed his arm.

"There's no mystery here. You stole that car, didn't you?"

Belying his annoyance, Bart turned and offered her a smug smirk.

"I didn't do it. Nobody saw me do it. You can't prove anything."

Hermione smiled tightly.

"I don't believe that for a second. Especially not after I saw that licence plate."

"Pfft, you looked at my licence plate? That's totally not square."

Hermione rolled her eyes before pressing on.

"I suppose that the 'S' stands for Slytherin, '401' is your birth date, and 'BJS' are your initials?"

"Had it custom-made."

"Oh, rubbish. You just…BART, YOUR POTION'S ON FIRE!" Hermione suddenly shrieked as she frightfully pointed to Bart's cauldron.

"WHAT THE HELL?" Bart yelled, instinctively tackling Neville to the floor before staring back at the flames, which emitted a seductive yellow glow that belied their lethality.

Cooool, it's like that time Lake Springfield caught fire! Bart thought, as the flames flickered up from the top of the cauldron, enticing the students to embrace its heat. Bart was doing just that, as sweat poured from his pores and saturated his robes, making him feel very sticky indeed.

This wasn't lost on Professor Snape, who clearly relished Bart's growing discomfort as he strode over. Nonetheless, he still had to favour Slytherins, so the matter was settled not by vanishing the potion and giving the pair a big fat zero, but with an artful Aguamenti.

Until it wasn't.

"AHHHHHH! PROFESSOR, THE BOTTOM OF BART'S CAULDRON IS ON FIRE!" Hermione screamed.

Professor Snape almost silenced her before discovering that Hermione was right. He leapt back in shock before firing an Exstinguere at the cauldron's base, snuffing out the flames…until they returned with renewed vigour.

Professor Snape's eyes widened into saucers, as he realised that anything could happen from here. After quelling his rising panic via Occlumency, he deduced that vanishing the cauldron wouldn't necessarily extinguish the fire. No, it was time for Plan B…

"EVERYBODY, GET BEHIND ME! QUICKLY NOW!"

Not wishing to cross the surly sorcerer, the class hastily gathered behind him.

"PROTEGO TOTALUM!" Professor Snape barked as the fire before them raged incessantly. Indeed, the class felt like they'd go crazy from the heat. However, before the flames could consume the workspace before them, the cauldron did something most unexpected.

It shot through the ceiling with a resounding bang, spraying Bart's unfinished swelling solution everywhere and making the space around Professor Snape's shield very crowded indeed. Desks doubled in size, while puffer-eyes turned into tennis balls.

However, Bart only had eyes for the hole in the ceiling as dread overtook him.

Oh man, I hope Gemma doesn't find out about this…

However, as fate would have it, Gemma and Marcus had just finished up a non-verbal duel in their Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Naturally, Gemma had won easily, for her father's tutelage rendered her adept at non-verbal casting, unlike her Quidditch-obsessed opponent.

Moreover, while she was hardly Little Miss Humility, she did not underestimate her opponent based on gender like Marcus did. Additionally, Jake had always stressed that the sine qua non of duelling was to win. All other considerations came second.

She therefore felt only triumph when she took him down in seconds flat. Unfortunately, that winning feeling left her quite unprepared for what came next.

BANG!

A cauldron burst through the space between Gemma and Marcus, spraying small amounts of unfinished Swelling Solution on the floor in the process. Thankfully they weren't physically affected, but adrenaline nonetheless surged through the pair.

Luckily for Gemma, years of rigorous mental training had prepared her for such shocks, as she quickly calmed her beating heart by clearing her mind in the usual way.

Marcus, unfortunately, was altogether less equipped to cope with the psychological shock.

"WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?" he roared, his hot-blooded tendencies making themselves known. However, before he could do anything rash…

"Mr. Flint?" Jake asked.

"WHAT?"

To try and placate the aggravated Quidditch captain, Jake pressed his hands downwards.

"Please close your eyes, take a few shallow breaths in, a few deep breaths out, and imagine Slytherin beating Gryffindor in the Quidditch Cup Final."

"WHY THE HELL SHOULD I?"

"Because that will calm you down and enable you to try and defeat Gemma in a duel", Jake replied, using Marcus' antagonistic relationship with Gemma to manipulate him into compliance.

It worked like a charm, for Marcus followed Jake's advice.

As he did, Jake and Gemma gave each other meaningful looks, for both realised why that cauldron had burst through the floor. Said realisation forced Gemma to suppress her rage by repeatedly clenching her right hand.

Bart, you will pay.

Meanwhile, during her Care of Magical Creatures class, Angelina Johnson was petting a unicorn while the Weasley twins looked on.

"Professor Kettleburn, do you have any more unicorns?" the dark-haired girl asked as her dark eyes expectantly gleamed in the sunlight.

CRASH!

The entire class spun around to see a cauldron fly into orbit after smashing through the castle roof.

"I think that's one, Angelina!" the eccentric professor ebulliently responded, gesturing with his prosthetic arm for emphasis as the class tried not to laugh.

Fred melodramatically clasped his cheeks with his hands.

"Look, George! Our Lord's sending us a sign!"

"Yes, a sign that he's outdone himself once again!"

"Truly, he blesses us with his presence!"

"To be precise, we are blessed to have him!"

They then punctuated their point by pumping their right fists into the air.

"BART IS GOOD! BART IS GREAT! BART IS GOOD! BART IS GREAT!"

In that moment, house rivalries were forgotten as the entire class started laughing.

Some hours later, Petunia Dursley was in a similarly jovial mood as she showed Arabella Figg her new car, which was naturally coated in a very proper white.

"Arabella, look what Vernon gave me! A brand-new Vauxhall Cavalier! Aren't I the luckiest wife in the street?" Petunia boasted, making sure everyone on the street could hear her.

Arabella stifled a yawn before feigning agreement.

"You certainly are!" Not.

Petunia smiled appreciatively before tempting fate.

"Yes, this car will last for years!"

However, fate would not be tempted, for seconds later…

THUD!

A few minutes later, Professor Dumbledore was contemplating the state of the wizarding world in his office, when…

"Albus!"

The startled headmaster almost toppled from his seat.

"A-Arabella? Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me! Now can you please come over here?"

Hearing the urgency in the woman's voice, the headmaster strode over to the fireplace.

"What has happened, Arabella?"

"Listen, I-I think a cauldron just caved in Petunia's car."

Professor Dumbledore's eyes almost bugged out.

"A cauldron, you say?"

"Well…it was a cauldron, but now it's just a massive pewter plate."

"How did the cauldron cave in the car, exactly?"

"It fell from the sky and split the car in two!"

Headmaster Dumbledore could hardly believe his ears.

"It…it fell from the sky?"

"Yes!"

For once, the headmaster's silver tongue struggled for words.

"I'll talk to Severus and see what he knows. Now, was there anything else?"

The elderly cat lady frowned.

"Yes, there is. Is Harry alright?"

"Of course, Arabella. He's safe and sound at Hogwarts. Why do you ask?"

"That's good to hear. It's just that I haven't seen him since the start of August."

"I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, Arabella. From what you have told me, Harry has never enjoyed a vibrant social life there."

"Yes, but I would see him run errands for Petunia occasionally, so it's just a bit strange."

Professor Dumbledore stroked his chin thoughtfully, before gasping as he contemplated a truly horrific possibility.

Harry couldn't have been housebound like Ariana was, could he? No, I refuse to believe it. It would be obvious if he was, the elderly mage reasoned as his chest tightened in apprehension. Sweat poured from his forehead before he composed himself via Occlumency.

"It is a little strange, yes. But he knows that my door is always open, so he will surely notify me if he has concerns about his home life."

Arabella didn't look convinced, but her trust in the headmaster led her to not question him further.

"If you say so, Albus. I'll tell you if I have any other concerns."

"Please do."

After Arabella's face disappeared from the fireplace, the headmaster was lost in thought.

How did that cauldron get there? Perhaps Severus knows…

Sure enough, the headmaster told Bart's head of house about the flying cauldron. Professor Snape almost sprayed his tea around the desk, such was his surprise.

"How in Merlin's name could it travel that far? It should have broken up in orbit."

Professor Dumbledore shrugged.

"Magic, Severus."

"Oh, of course", Professor Snape sneered. "Only Longbottom could accidentally invent a flying cauldron. He must be feeling very accomplished right now."

"Are you sure that it was an accident?"

"Yes. Otherwise, I would have demanded Longbottom and Simpson's expulsion", the professor sourly noted. Truth be told, he would have happily engineered their departure, but the headmaster would not have agreed.

"Fair enough. Was there any unusual behaviour from the other students?"

"Well, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle and Miss Parkinson especially enjoyed the spectacle, although all bar Longbottom, Simpson and Miss Granger found it amusing. Nobody appears to have sabotaged the cauldron, however."

"Did you punish anybody?"

"I rewarded Longbottom's innovation with a week's detention", Professor Snape sneered, conveniently neglecting to mention that he also deducted 50 points from Gryffindor. "Simpson was guilty by association, so he received a day's detention." Plus whatever Miss Farley does to him.

The perceptive headmaster was unsure whether he was telling the whole truth. However, finding out would destroy the younger man's trust in him. So, he let it slide.

"Has Longbottom breached the International Statute of Secrecy?"

The headmaster thought for a moment.

"I doubt it, Severus. According to Arabella, the cauldron was not identifiable as such. They would most likely treat it like they do…UFOs, are they?"

Professor Snape snorted contemptuously.

What childish claptrap. "Yes."

Professor Dumbledore clapped his hands on the desk.

"That settles that, then. Thank you for your cooperation, Severus."

Professor Snape smirked before sweeping out of the room.

Meanwhile, Draco was sitting in his bed and smirking down at his transfigured matchbox when a disgruntled Bart suddenly stormed into the dormitory.

"Ugh, you look whipped tonight, Simpson. I didn't know you liked it so rough", Draco joked, alluding to Bart's relationship with Gemma.

Bart shot him an uncharacteristically venomous glare as Draco's 'boyfriends' sniggered, before calming down and returning fire.

"Pfft, you like it rough from both ends."

Draco's eyes flashed but he quickly composed himself.

Remember what father said. "You certainly had a rough potions lesson today, didn't you Simpson? Getting a detention…that must have sucked."

"I guess you'd know, since you suck so much."

"Stop projecting, Simpson."

"What, my awesomeness?"

Draco scoffed.

"Awesome to whom? Mudbloods?"

"Better that than being inbred."

"At least I can afford bread."

"What, does Pants Down buy it for you?"

"Oh, please. Only peons like you eat bread."

"You, eat? Could've fooled me."

"Lots of things fool you, Simpson."

"Too bad you're not one of them, dude. Remember when we last duelled?"

Draco deigned not to answer. After all, he couldn't let Bart know that being outwitted by an outnumbered Muggleborn wounded his pride. Instead, he cut the conversation short.

"I think I'll get some sleep now, Simpson. Talking to Mudbloods dirties the tongue, you see."

Realising that their little verbal stoush was about to end, Bart slipped in a parting shot.

"Say goodnight to your boyfriends for me, then."

"At least I have friends, Simpson", Draco sneered, calming Crabbe and Goyle down before they embarrassed themselves. "Muffliato!"

Yeah, imaginary ones. Now to hit the sack…

The next morning, Bart sat down in the Great Hall and tore through his eggs and sausages with such ferocity that the students around him watched with morbid fascination.

Gemma took a deep breath and sighed.

I really should apologise to him before he does something rash. "Bart?"

Having not forgiven her after last night's confrontation, Bart turned to scowl at her, only to see subtle signs of remorse lining her beautiful face. Such was her skill in Occlumency that most people would not have detected those signs, but Bart was nothing if not observant. Indeed, being observant helped him evade detection after executing pranks.

"I'm sorry that I acted so rashly last night."

Bart sighed. He would usually have been much less forgiving, but he couldn't stay mad at Gemma. Instead, he offered her a wry smirk.

"You should thank your dad. Otherwise, we wouldn't be talking right now."

Gemma laughed softly.

"Yes, with hindsight, I'm glad that father followed me into that classroom and performed Legilimency on you before I carried out my punishment. Otherwise, you would have been punished for another's folly, and I could never forgive myself if I did that."

"I know. But your dad didn't look very happy with you when I left."

Gemma frowned.

"He wasn't. He reminded me that punishing an outstanding talent like yourself without cause was rash, foolish, and unworthy of a Slytherin. And he was right – behaving like that makes me no better than the idiots and impostors who currently dominate our house."

"Like Drain-o."

Gemma sniggered.

"Precisely. Speaking of which, are you sure that he sabotaged your cauldron?"

Bart thought for a second.

"I'm sure, but I'm not sure."

"In other words, you suspect him, but have no proof."

"Yeaaaahh."

Gemma wordlessly cast a Muffliato around them before continuing.

"Hmmm…officially, I can't punish Malfoy, but…"

Bart smirked in understanding.

"Unofficially, I can do whether the hell I want?"

Gemma grinned viciously.

"As long as you don't kill him. Or get caught."

Bart pointed a finger gun towards her and winked.

"CLICK CLICK! Gotchaaaaa…"

Gemma shook her head incredulously.

"What in the world was that?"

"Oh yeah, you wouldn't know what a pistol is. It's like a shotgun, only it's much smaller and has one barrel instead of two."

Gemma scowled. Shotguns reminded her of Springfield, and that was never a good thing.

"I see. So, what's your plan?"

Bart turned his head and stared at the floor for a moment.

"Hmmmm…THAT'S IT! I'll send him a Howler!"

Gemma looked unconvinced.

"Yelling what?"

Bart cackled evilly.

"Oh, you'll see. Just get your mum to send me one."

"That, I can do. But if anybody asks me…"

"You know nothing."

Gemma tapped her nose and smirked.

"Exactly."

They both chuckled.

Sure enough, the fruits of Bart's labour were realised a few days later, when Draco's eagle owl dropped a red envelope onto his lap during breakfast.

Draco and Pansy gasped in horror.

"A Howler?! But…", Draco spluttered as he anxiously pinched his nose. Father's surely not mad at me for attacking Simpson of all people?!

Pansy tenderly placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Just open it, Draco. It's better to get it over and done with."

Draco nervously nodded, tentatively opening the envelope with trembling fingers. The message within was more horrible than he dared imagine…

"DRAKEY LOVES HER-MY! DRAKEY LOVES HER-MY! DRAKEY LOVES HER-MY!"

The other three houses erupted with raucous laughter, creating a cacophony that made Draco want to crawl into a hole and die – after he decapitated the person responsible, of course.

Meanwhile, Pansy looked mutinous while Crabbe and Goyle looked completely befuddled. As Draco angrily looked around him, he saw that most of his housemates, and some of the teachers, were struggling to conceal their laughter.

"Can we come to the wedding, Ferret Face?" George hollered to further laughs while Fred banged his right fist on the table.

Draco just scowled.

Hmph. Blood traitors.

Bart and Gemma were looking on with scarcely concealed amusement.

"Why did you go after Granger?" Gemma asked after casting a Muffliato.

"Because she was riding my ass over that Aston Martin."

"Fair enough."

Speaking of Hermione, she only had eyes for him – evil eyes. So too, did Penelope and Ron.

"I don't think Granger liked that Howler, Bart."

They call her Hermione, but she can go bite me. "Eh, I can live with it."

However, he couldn't live with how Harry shook his head in disappointment.

Aww nuts.

That evening, in Harry and Ron's dormitory, Hermione sobbed profusely while both boys angrily looked on. Truth be told, both were uncomfortable with Hermione's emotionalism, but nonetheless felt the need to support her.

"How could he do that?"

"Because he's a slithery tosser", Ron snarled.

Harry scowled at the ceiling before storming to his bed and furiously scribbling on some parchment.

When that parchment burned, Bart charged into an empty classroom. He didn't really want to respond, but he knew that ignoring Harry would end their friendship.

So he bit the bullet.

"Bart!"

"Look, I'm sorry about the Howler, OK?"

"Tell Hermione that!"

"Uh, how?"

"You figure it out!"

The metaphorical line then went dead.

Bart seethed. He generally resented being ordered around, and the only reason he didn't lash out was because he valued Harry's friendship.

He's just not listening. OK Bart, what would Lisa do? Hmmm…why not meditate?

After meditating, his mind and resolve strengthened as a smirk spread across his face.

Let's make a social call…

Soon enough, a larger Gryffindor with wiry brown hair was unwittingly leading an invisible Bart straight to Gryffindor Tower.

Heh, this is so much easier than when I first tried it, cockily thought Bart as the Gryffindor stopped in front of a large painting…with another fat lady.

Luckily, he fought off the desire to retch before the student went inside. After confounding said student once again, Bart quickly snuck in behind him and shut the door. Luckily, the common room was all but deserted right now, so nobody noticed.

Heh heh heh, you'd think these suckers would have tighter security after the stunt I pulled last year. Too bad for them. So what's in this room?

He looked around curiously.

Whoa baby, this is even cooler than Ravenclaw's room! Red everywhere, a lion on top of a roarin' fire…yeah, I can see why that hat almost put me here.

Now where is…of course! Harry must be up in the dorms…which must be through one of these two doors. So let's pick one. OK…

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe

Catching Itchy by his toe

If he squeals let him go

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…THAT ONE!

He slipped through the chosen door and bolted up the stairs before sliding through the second door.

Yes, they're here! And Hermione's crying…great, that's just great! Now how do I get their attention…ah, I know!

He pinged a knut against one of the bedroom posters.

"What? Who did that?!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Me."

The three swivelled, only to find a smirking Bart.

"Bart?!"

"SIMPSON!"

"BART!" Hermione screamed before storming towards him and giving him an armour-piercing slap.

"Yeah, nice to see you too, Hermione", Bart snarled as he rubbed his left cheek.

"NICE TO SEE ME?! NICE TO SEE ME?!" Hermione bellowed, breathing fire all the while. "YOU HAVE A LOT OF NERVE COMING HERE AFTER THIS MORNING! WHY DID YOU THAT, HUH?"

Bart took a deep breath before tapping into his Occlumency.

"I came to apologise. I shouldn't have sent that Howler. Nobody deserves to be Draco's crush."

Hermione's eyes watered a tad as Harry sniggered.

"Do…do you really mean that?"

Bart smiled.

"Yeah."

Hermione quickly hugged him before pulling back.

Ugh, I'll need cootie shots at this rate.

"Apology accepted, Bart."

The girl's eyes then widened.

"Wait…how did you get into Gryffindor Tower?"

Bart smirked.

"Did I?"

And just like that, he was gone.

Hermione whipped out her wand, but it was too late.

"Augh! That boooyy!", she snarled before storming out, as pearls of laughter followed her.

Similarly, October followed September and rain followed sunshine. Hagrid's pumpkins gleefully embraced each downpour, but Bart was less gleeful, as Marcus pushed his charges through many a gruelling session. The rain and wind obscured the Bludgers and Quaffles while rendering their movements unpredictable, meaning that a momentary lapse in concentration could cost Bart dearly.

Adding insult to injury was how Bart's Nimbus 1700 had nowhere near the speed and control of the Nimbus 2001s, accentuating their natural advantage as the rain scarcely affected them. Even performing tricks took double the effort, since the wind made pushing past the G's pounding into his skull a most burdensome ordeal. And 'surfing' was obviously out of the question.

Moreover, while Draco refrained from retaliating against Bart for the Howler while they were on the ground, in the air he eagerly helped Lucian and Derrick direct Bludgers towards Bart's position using his hand. Marcus chastised him whenever he saw this, but the rain provided Draco with cover.

The upshot was that Bart's productivity halved, compelling Marcus to confront him after their session a few days before Halloween.

"Simpson, your broom isn't good enough in these conditions. Can you get a better one?"

"I'm still handling it better than a woman would", Bart cracked, hoping to remain in Marcus' favour. He wasn't disappointed, as his captain burst out laughing.

"You're bloody right!"

"Anyway, regarding the broom, you'll have to take it up with J-I mean, Professor Farley", Bart remarked, thrusting the Nimbus 1700 into Marcus' hands before leaving for the change rooms. Unfortunately, soon after…

"Whoa, what the hell?" Bart exclaimed as he walked into somebody's rump.

"Simpson! Look at all the mud you're carrying in behind you!" an angered Filch barked.

Oh great, it's Fabio. "Well, I have been practicing Quidditch."

"Yes, and you'll be practicing cleaning it up!"

"Is there a problem here?" Professor Flitwick piped up as he strolled towards them.

"Yes, Simpson's up to his usual tricks!"

"Yeah, like practicing Quidditch", Bart drawled.

"Practicing Quidditch?" the professor mildly asked. "Naturally he'd be dragging mud in then, Argus. I don't think that warrants punishment. Now, may I speak with him in private?"

The caretaker clearly wanted to defy him, as his face reddened, his eyes popped out, and his jowls quivered furiously. Unfortunately for him, he could not.

"Fine. Come on, Mrs. Norris", Filch snarled, giving Bart a petrifying stare before stalking off.

"Thanks, Professor."

"You're welcome, Mr. Simpson. Now, one of Ravenclaw's Prefects, Penelope Clearwater, presented an interesting theory to me."

A pit slowly developed in Bart's stomach. "Which was?"

"That you infiltrated Ravenclaw's common room last year and planted those fireworks."

"Now why would she think that?" Bart airily replied.

"Well, you apparently claimed that Terry Boot told you where the entrance was, but when Penelope spoke with Terry, he claimed not to have done so."

That nosy bitch! "Terry might not remember."

Professor Flitwick smiled.

"An appointment with Professor Dumbledore would let us know either way."

D'oh! "Fine. Yes, I blew up your common room, and no, Terry didn't tell me. I just hit him with a Confundo and he guided me there. But Dumbledore's already punished me for it."

Professor Flitwick tightly smiled.

"I'll ask him. But if you're lying to me, or if you do that again, I will recommend your expulsion."

Bart smirked.

"I wouldn't expect anything less, Professor."

"Very well, Mr. Simpson. Until then. keep up your good practical work…and try to improve your understanding of the theory."

"Will do, Professor", Bart replied, saluting him as he strolled off. That could have gone a lot worse. Now, time to get changed.

He strolled to the change room, completely unaware that a certain Hufflepuff was watching him…

Later that night, in Slytherin's common room, Bart's buttocks luxuriated in the comfort the black leather chair offered him while he put his feet up on the table.

Ahhh, this is the life, Bart thought, before that parchment started burning. After pulling it out…

"Hey Bart, do you want to come to Nearly Headless Nick's Deathday Party?"

Bart sniggered.

Nearly Headless Nick? More like 'Nearly Dickless Dick'! "Deathday Party, huh? That sounds cool. Are they serving any munchies?"

"Actually, I don't know."

"Meh, I'll pass. Jake told me that Dumbledore's organised some dancing skeletons for the feast. It'd be pretty cool if they gouged Captain Hook's eyes out. So, have you seen Angus Filth today?"

"Yeah, he tried to give me a detention for dragging mud into the hall. But Nearly Headless Nick distracted him and I got out of serving one."

"Yeah, well, Flitwick told his Squib ass to take a hike when he was verballing me."

"About that. I think I saw a Hufflepuff watching us, but I'm not sure."

Bart stuck his tongue out in disgust.

"Ugh, this place is full of perverts, I swear. Fat chicks on the walls, students lusting after Filch. I mean, I know people can be weird, but geez…"

After a moment's silence…

"Yeah, they can be. Anyway, see you later."

"Later, dude."

Sure enough, the Halloween feast arrived. The Great Hall was dotted with live bats, and the aforementioned pumpkins were carved into lanterns large enough to house Bart and Gemma. Adding to the spectacle were golden plates and candles that gave the Great Hall a warm glow.

As Bart tucked into some succulent pumpkin pie, he lost himself in thought.

Man, for slaves, these house elves sure do some neat work. Just like it was pretty neat of Homer to hijack a military train and sell the weapons to the mafia for cash, Bart thought, having had Lisa discuss the matter with him that morning via parchment. Lisa and Mum weren't real happy about it, but hey, the more cash the better.

Speaking of Lisa, it's funny how she's had a few problems practicing spells now that she's in the fourth grade. She still hasn't mastered all the first-year spells wandlessly! Of course, neither had he, but given how Lisa overshadowed him academically, Bart would relish her setbacks in that regard.

And Mum's won a shooting contest. Obviously you never really stop being a cop.

With that, he finished his meal before watching the dancing skeletons. However, their novelty wore off quickly…until one skeleton kicked another in the rear, toppling several others in a domino effect.

OK, I take it back, that was worth it after all. And Captain Hook looks like he wants to throw himself down a well! Bart gleefully thought, cherishing how his head of house facepalmed in frustration while much of the school burst out laughing.

However, in another part of the castle, Filch was in a less convivial mood as he mopped mud off the floor, using the water puddles near him to soak his mop.

"Lousy little gits. Don't even have the decency to wipe their feet…".

Indeed, he was so focused on mopping away the mud that he didn't notice how something was slowly but surely creeping up behind him.

"Honestly, I don't know why I took this stinkin' job in the first place. I don't get paid nearly enough for putting up with those brats. I have half a mind to WAAAAAAAAAAA – ".

Suddenly, an indescribably terrible cry left Filch's lungs as he was seized from behind and tossed around like a ragdoll.

Moments earlier…

"Thanks for making me keep my promise, Hermione", Harry snarked.

"Yeah, thanks Hermione. I really had the time of my life there, you know? All that mouldy cheese, all that rotting fish, all those maggots…it really was a feast fit for a corpse. And best of all, you got to reunite with Myrtle! Aren't you happy, Hermione?" Ron sarcastically asked.

For once in her life, Hermione's lips were sealed.

However, just as the Great Hall neared, Harry stopped, his face ironically becoming as white as the ghosts they had just left behind.

"What's the matter, Harry?" a concerned Ron asked.

"I-it's the voice", Harry stuttered, his throat going dry and eyes widening in fear as his teeth chattered away.

His thunderstruck friends made to say something, before a ghastly wail echoed ominously through the corridors. The sheer terror the three felt should have turned them into stone.

But Harry would not be cowed.

"SOMEONE'S IN TROUBLE!" he roared, his instincts overriding his fear as he dashed towards the voice, with Ron quickly following.

"COME BACK, YOU TWO! WE HAVE TO WAIT FOR A TEACHER!" Hermione yelled before rubbing her face with her hand in vexation.

If they get me killed, then I'm killing them in the afterlife, Hermione vowed, sprinting after them before crashing into Ron's backside.

"Owwww! Bloody hell, Hermione, why did you do that?"

"Well, why did you - "

She stopped when she saw the scene before the trio. Time momentarily stood still – before she let loose a truly blood-curdling scream…

Author's Notes for Chapter Seven

This will probably be the last chapter I'll do for a month. Unfortunately, I'll be busy with work in the meantime. I've ended it on a cliffhanger to keep my wonderful readers interested.

I have assumed that Mrs Figg knows how to communicate via fireplace, and that she knows that wizards use cauldrons.

People can react to psychological shock with adrenaline boosts and anger.

RE Protego Totalum, it's not clear whether it blocks heat, or simply the fire causing said heat.

Exstinguere: Latin for 'Extinguishing' = Extinguishing Charm

Simpsons episode references:

'Wizard of Evergreen Terrace': 'POOP' line

'Lemon of Troy': Lake Springfield catching fire

The flying cauldron was inspired by 'Sweet Seymour Skinner's Baadasssss Song' (when a mortar round lands on the Kwik-E-Mart), 'The Secret War of Lisa Simpson' (when Bart blows up Skinner's car from long range with a grenade launcher) and also by Home Improvement (when Tim Allen sends a barbecue grill into orbit).

James Songbird/Monster King: Thanks.