Scream and Shout 4-6

[highpotinnoose]

Harry Potter

Rating: Rated: T
Chapters: 6
Words: 48,628

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WARNING: This fic was written back in 2014-15 and the humor and slang, and pop-culture references involved are indicitive of that time.
P.S. For this story, you're going to have to suspend your disbelief in some places. I made the internet more prominent than it probably actually was during '96 and implied that Youtube had already been created. I know that Youtube was created in 2005; please don't fuss at me about it. For the sake of my story, let's pretend otherwise.

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Chapter 4

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The Start-of-Term Feast ended up being a far more annoying thing than usual. It started off well enough with the Sorting going as usual beyond the ominous warning the Sorting Hat gave during its song. The food was on point as was the norm, good enough to incite envy from Nearly-Headless Nick, the Gryffindor house ghost. Everything had been business as usual until the moment an amphibian disguised as a bottle of Pepto-Bismol hopped its way into the middle of the headmaster's announcements and demanded to be allowed to talk, poorly trying to convince everyone that it was actually a person.

Delores Umbridge was as odious as she had been back at Marie's hearing, before Marie had the displeasure of knowing her name. Her voice was like an overripe banana, all festering sugar, and from the way she forced her face into expressions, she was only passingly familiar on how to be a human being. She gave a long-winded diatribe that not so subtly poked at the current running of the school. It essentially summed up as this: Dumbledore sucks 'cause he does what he wants; the ministry was going Spanish Inquisition on Hogwarts because it was no longer politically correct to agree with Dumbledore in any shape or form; advancements in teaching techniques? Fuck those advancements.

Marie watched in grudging amazement as the squat little frog-humper successfully made everyone in the school hate her, even the ones that were technically on her side. Sycophants with agendas they may be, those blood-purist children didn't take to being talked to like they had half a brain any better than anyone else.

After they had been dismissed, it was an annoyed Marie that made her way up to Gryffindor Tower. The side glances and muttering didn't help. Not only had a government toady infiltrated her favourite place on earth, there was pointing and whispering yet again. She wondered how they'd take it if she took a swing at one of them in retaliation. Probably piss their stupid pants and call her homicidal again.

There was an irritating moment in which Marie got into a disagreement with the Fat Lady about letting Marie in. So she didn't know the password yet, so what? She had been attending Hogwarts for four years already, it wasn't like the Fat Lady didn't know who she was! Thankfully, Neville had shown up with the password before Marie could follow in the footsteps of Sirius and slash the stupid portrait up.

"Thanks, Neville," Marie signed, climbing through the portrait hole, stumbling a bit when her foot caught. Honestly, did the doorway have to be a few feet off the ground? She had been tripping over the edge since first year.

Neville caught her by her forearm and smiled, scratching the back of his head. "No problem. It's finally something I'll have no problem remembering."

"And of course it ends up being something I can't even pronounce," Marie griped teasingly. "What was it again? Mimble, nimbus, Estonia?"

"Mimbulus Mimbletonia," the boy corrected, smiling wryly at her facetiousness. "It's a rare plant that originated in Assyria. It's one of the plants my great-uncle got me for my birthday."

"Whoa, talk about lucky."

It was then that the First-years were brought in, Hermione leading the lot of them through the hole, Ron giving a few of them a leg up when they needed it. ("Ha! I'm not the only one," Marie muttered, eying the blushing few with satisfaction.) They were a titchy crowd, all smaller than Marie remembered being, but also not that much smaller than she currently was. Some of them were actually unusually tall. She eyed a five foot six inch first-year with displeasure; the dratted boy was taller than her!

Hermione gave a small speech on rules and navigating the school that boiled down to "If you're not sure if you should be doing something, don't do it," and "Feel free to ask anyone for directions, anyone at all! You know, just not the poltergeist, or the Slytherins, or the Slytherin or Ravenclaw ghosts 'cause they don't talk, or that portrait of the knight that can't get on his horse, or Mr. Filch 'cause he's a meanie, or. . . But other than that, anyone!" It wasn't very confidence inspiring and Hermione seemed to realize that half way through her list of people not to depend on; she flushed and grimaced awkwardly but tried to make up for it by saying the prefects were always there to help them.

Marie ambled off to bed the same time the First-years did, not feeling up to any more hullabaloo for the day, slipping past Lucas Caruso who was all but sleep-walking up to the fifth-year boys' dorm. Most of the other girls were already getting ready for bed when she entered the dorm. Lavender and Parvati were talking with each other on Parvati's bed. They did so quietly, very unusual for them, though their heavy-lidded eyes spoke for them. Fay Dunbar was brushing out her hair at her vanity, and Kellah Matthews was coming out of the bathroom, toweling her head. Nods were exchanged in greeting but really everyone was too tired to do much talking.

Marie brushed her teeth and washed her face before pulling on a pair of shorts and a long-sleeved t-shirt. She pulled her curtains around her bed and bespelled it so that no sound could be leave the enclosed area. She had thrown her satchel on her bed earlier when she had dug through her trunk for sleeping clothes. Now that she was within the comfort of her bed with nothing to distract her, she pulled out a textbook to reread for class and the Seeing-Eye as well.

The camera thing appeared to be an oddly designed rubber ball the size of a baseball before Marie stroked it with her thumb. It jolt a little bit and began to uncurl itself. Like a Snitch, its wings had been tucked flat into its sides, but unlike a Snitch, the wings resembles those of a bat, and it also had a tail much like that of the Muggle depiction of the Devil. The device shuddered and rocked, an invisible seam splitting the middle of it, fluttering close and open again a few times much like someone blinking awake. It flapped its wings and appeared to shake itself awake.

The Seeing-Eye took in the sight of Marie sitting there and hovered at attention at eye-level. Marie lifted a hand for it to land on and it settled into her palm, half tucking its wings back.

"You good to go?" Marie asked it.

It blinked twice and made a twittering sound in confirmation.

"Alright." Marie put on a cheery if sleepy expression on her face. "What's up, Boneheads? It's your girl, Malice the. . ." Marie trailed off, taking a moment to remember how many girls had come before her. She brightened. "The sixth! God, I always forget which one I am. Can you believe how many of us there's been? It gets super confusing as well since a lot of you guys call me 'the true fifth'; nice to know you lot like me more than my predecessor. Ha! Am I impressing you yet? I know big words like predecessor.

"Anyways! Malice VI here, shooting the first official video of this vlog series in bed at boarding school. Hope you're all having a kickass day. I heard you guys liked the preview thing we put up a few days ago; hopefully the rest of these vids will have just as fun.

"Probably with less dancing when no one's looking though. It could go either way, really.

"Sorry if I sound a bit loopy and ramble-ly, guys," said Marie, laying on her back and holding the Seeing-Eye above her head. "I just arrived at school this evening after a fuck-long train ride, and there's this new teacher that could put an insomniac to sleep. She's worse than the History teacher and his class is the unofficial school-sanctioned nap-time. Her boring arse speech numbed my brain; pissed me off as well. I can tell you right now that we will not be getting on; she's this disgusting stuck-up bitch. Point is, we just got sent to bed a few minutes ago and I'd be dead to the world right now if it wasn't for the fact that I promised my uploader that I'd film some tonight.

"You should know straight out that these vids probably won't have a regular schedule." Marie shrugged. "I'm going to have to film them between classes, homework, practices, and hanging with my friends. And then I'll have to mail it to Sally-Anne, my uploader, for editing and stuff since my school enforces a strict no internet policy. No internet or phones, actually, so unfortunately, no, I can not give away my phone number; try to tape your hearts back together, fanboys." She stuck her tongue out playfully. "I will do my best to get something ready for editing as soon as possible though, but you have to consider Sally-Anne's free time as well. Hopefully we'll end up with some cool stuff for you to watch and that'll make up for the shitty delays.

"I guess I'm supposed to tell you how I've been lately, right? Well, to be honest, it's been kinda lousy for a while. I'm not going to bore your freaking ears off with a pity-party, but I can tell you that being mugged, a hearing, a near-expulsion, and having people look at me like I'm criminally insane is only part of it. Also, some of those things have something to do with each other, and some were just fucked up luck working against me. Oh, yeah, I'm a real-deal delinquent. Am I hardcore yet?

"Besides the crappy stuff, I've spent the last few weeks of summer at my godfather's house with some of my school-friends. The place was a total dump since he hasn't lived in it until just recently. It's been abandoned for over a decade, and let me tell you, there was dirt on the dirt, and I think all the bacteria there evolved into a new species of life-form. I swear to God, it had evolved out of its Stone-Age and was creating its own form of government when we got in there and got rid of it before it could take over the human race. There were dust-bunnies the size of cats and dogs! Thankfully, we had a lot of help cleaning up, managed to make the place somewhat livable lickety-split.

"That was a bit of a bother, but it was pretty cool to hang out with Siri. He's like the cool uncle your dad tries not to talk about since he's all straight-lace while his little bro's all motorcycles and rock bands. Oh!" Marie perked up a bit and pulled herself back up into a sitting a position. She tossed the Seeing-Eye into the air and placed her pillow on her lap.

"Siri's actually got a motorcycle, if you can believe it. It's this sexy, old-school fatboy, all sweet curves and sleek lines. And it's just hanging out in his garage! He hasn't driven it in years! I crawled all over it when I saw it, of course; such a beautiful machine being wasted, all hidden away. Siri thought it was hilarious, but he started teaching me how to drive it.

"We spent like half a day in there before my friend's mom found us!" Marie grinned. "Siri's place is pretty big so we were all bunking there, Ron's parents and three of his siblings as well as Siri and me, my other friend, Hermione, and even some of Siri's friends that gad about. Ron's mum found us and she damn near burst a blood vessel when she saw us all covered in grease and motor oil. She reamed into us like a kid being caught in his first wank for 'getting a young lady all filthy,' but Siri shut her up proper, saying he was well in his rights to teach me to drive and how motor vehicles function.

"Can we say coolest person ever? We high-fived the hell out of each other after. And get this: He said I could have it when I get my license! Hell, yeah! Best godfather ever!

"Waaah, I'm all pumped up! I should've saved this for tomorrow morning; enthusiasm would be better for waking hours.

"I'm gonna have to call it quits now, guys, I'm going to do a bit of reading ahead so I'll be ready for class tomorrow. I'll try to get some more stuff recorded throughout the day but no promises, alright? Give this video a thumbs up if you liked it, check out the link to our Facebook fanpage in the description box, and leave me a message in the comment section down below if you want to say something disgusting and shameful that your mother would be ashamed of. See-ya." Marie made a peace sign and poked it to her cheek. "Malice, signing out."

---

Marie woke up in a remarkably good mood, well rested and relaxed. The clock showed that it was actually pretty early, not yet six, so she took the chance to float through her morning routine in contrast to her usual hustle. Her good mood extended into an up-for-anything state of mind that she indulged by abandoning her usual trousers — the ones she had been wearing since winter of first year when she had choose warmth over cuteness. One of the uniform skirts Sally-Anne had chucked at her when the other girl discovered Marie had trashed hers was worn over a pair of bloomer shorts that she had also been smacked in the face with. Deciding to go full out, a pair of height-enhancing yet attractive boots were also put on.

Marie preened a bit in the mirror. She didn't look half bad. Those boots made her legs look super long.

"Oooh, who are we impressing today?" a teasing voice asked from behind Marie. Parvati stood leaning against the bathroom door, dressed only in her towel.

Marie rolled her eyes and shook her head. "No one. I just felt like putting in some effort today."

"If only you did everyday! That skirt's way cute on you; you look so pretty!"

"In a perfect world maybe," said Marie, shrugging her shoulders. "We're still in Scotland, you know; I'd rather have my legs warm in pair of trousers than falling off from the cold."

Parvati waved a careless hand, sauntering over to the clothes she had laid out across her trunk the night before. "Beauty is pain. Why do you think I'm always awake so early? Besides, that's what heating charms are for."

They made casual conversation about clothes for a few moments, chatting about Parvati's skin-care system as well, before Marie decided that the early hour was the perfect opportunity to take a walk before breakfast.

"I'll see you at breakfast, alright?" Marie told Parvati after the Indian girl talked her into putting some clips into her hair. The life-sized butterflies Lavender lent her fluttered animated wings bejeweled with purple gemstones. "If Hermione or Ron asks, could you tell them I'll meet them there?"

"Sure thing," Parvati agreed.

Marie ambled down through the common room without a care. It was early enough that not even the most Ravenclaw-ish of Gryffindors were up and about yet. She all but skipped down the halls, a definite bounce in her steps. Falling into a flight of fancy, she began to hum, leading to her bopping and swaying as she went. "I gotta pocket, gotta pocket full of sunshine. . ."

That was how Professor Sprout found her, chacha-ing her way onto the grounds, eyes closed and hair flying.

"Good morning, Ms. Potter," The plump woman greeted, an amused smile on her face.

Marie jolted. She twirled in the direction of the voice and smile sheepishly at the sight of the Herbology teacher.

"Good morning, Professor," said Marie, brushing back the hair that had fallen into her face. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

"It is," the professor agreed. "What's got you so cheerful today?"

"Oh, nothing really. I had a beautiful sleep, woke up with enough time to pamper myself a bit and relax. It's nice to be back as well."

"One of those mornings I see," Professor Sprout nodded in understanding. "I'll leave you to it then."

"Yes, bye— Oh!" Marie stopped short as she was turning to continue on her way, catching the professor's attention with her exclamation. "Just a moment, please. I was wondering if it would be alright if I use this at school?"

Marie dug out the Seeing-Eye from the pocket she had sewn into her skirt. She prodded it awake before looking at Professor Sprout imploringly.

Sprout looked curious, taking in the flying eyeball fluttering around Marie's head. "I might agree if I knew what it was. What is it?"

"This is a Seeing- Eye. Do you know what a video camera is?"

"I'm unfamiliar with what a 'video' is," said Sprout.

"Well, it's rather like a regular camera, but. . . erm. . . It's like this: Muggles got bored with their photographs not being able to move, so they invented the video, sort of like one of our paintings. Um, except they don't interact with people outside the video. It's sort of like making a recorded play or message that you can send to other people."

"I see. . ." Sprout's eyes had yet to remove themselves from the flying thing. "It's like Mr. Creevey's camera then?"

"Oh, no, this isn't a— Well, I suppose it is, actually. Um, what I mean to say is that a Seeing-Eye is the equivalent of a video camera. Sally-Anne gave it to me so I could send her videos, so I wanted to know it's alright for me to use it."

"Sally-Anne?" Sprout looked surprised. "Sally-Anne Perks?"

"Yes, ma'am."

The professor was intrigued. "I wondered what happened to her! I didn't know that you two were friends."

"Yes, her mum decided Sally-Anne'd be better off learning by owl-correspondence while going to Muggle school. They moved near where I live last summer and we've been getting on rather well."

"That's certainly a relief, we had been concerned something unpleasant happened. And where did she get such a thing?"

"Oh, Sally-Anne loves owl-order catalogs; she gets them from everywhere. She ordered this," Marie held out her hand for the Seeing-Eye to land on. It drifted over and settled into her palm, "from her favorite merchandiser in America."

"I see. . ." Sprout thought for a moment before smiling at Marie. "I have no problem with it, though I do wonder why you're asking me instead of Professor McGonagall."

"Oh, it's just that you're the first professor I've seen this morning, and I figured permission from a Head of House, even if not my own, was as good as any. I'm not sure if I'd be alright with asking Professor McGonagall either way, she always seems so busy; I wouldn't want to bother her over something so little."

"Well, I can't think of any reason why you shouldn't, so feel free to use it. Mind that you don't disrupt classes with it of course, but other than that, I see no problem."

Marie thanked the professor profusely. Then a thought struck her. She dug into her pocket again, this time pulling out a scrap piece of parchment. "Would you mind writing down that you've given me permission? I try to make it a habit to lie as little as possible but I've still got people that wouldn't believe me if I told them that water was wet."

---

"Good morning, boys," Marie chirped, plopping down next to Ron. "You're rather early today."

The Great Hall was only a third filled so far, summer schedules still clinging to those that tended to sleep in. It was unusual for the boys in her year to come earlier than the second hour of breakfast. It was doubly unusual for Ron to be so alert already instead of blinking blearily about as was his wont.

"Mornin'," Ron muttered through a wad of toast in his mouth.

Dean and Seamus were seated on the other side of the table, looking up and nodding at her in greeting, though Seamus was rather subdued.

Marie leaned onto the table and frowned in concern. "Why the long face? Is everything alright?"

Dean smiled wryly. "Everything's fine enough. It's just Seamus had a bit of a rough time of it during the holiday."

She picked up a wedge of oranges and began to eat. "What happened?"

Seamus didn't answer immediately, picking at his bacon for a bit. Finally, without looking at her, he said, "Me mam didn't want me to come back."

"Seriously?" asked Marie incredulously. "Why?"

There was a bit of uneasy shifting before Seamus finally looked up at her, a wary expression on his face. "Well. . ." His tone was delicate. "I suppose. . . because of you."

Marie's glass of juice stopped short on its way to her mouth. She put it down carefully. "Excuse me? What have I done that would make your mother want to keep you from school?"

"Well," said Seamus, looking away again., "She. . . er. . . well, it's not just you, it's Dumbledore too. . ."

Marie's eyes narrowed in irritation. "Are you telling me your mother believes that steaming pile of dung the Daily Prophet has been shovelling? The same newspaper that regularly misspells the name of the people they're reporting on, and tried to convince the public that people died at the World Cup?"

"Well, when you put it like that. . ." Seamus shrugged awkwardly. "And how do you know one died?"

"Seamus, we were almost on top of them when those lunatics started setting things on fire and going at those Muggles. There was a bunch of running and screaming but they didn't actually do any physical harm. On top of that, Ron's dad came back afterward and told us directly that the Aurors hadn't found anyone more than a bit scuffed from the stampede. I wouldn't put faith in a paper that lies to me through rumour-mongering and insinuations."

"They also tried to say that Marie and Krum were dating, and that the bloke was cheating on her with Hermione," Ron added.

"Exactly," Marie nodded. "Anyone with eyes would know that Krum and I barely exchanged two words, and that Hermione would rather set fire to her textbooks than be the other woman. The Prophet gets its kicks from working people up about nonsense when they have nothing better to do, and flinging out stupid theories when they're being paid off."

"Tell that to me mam," Seamus muttered though he did appear perked up. "Look. . . what did happen that night when. . . you know, when. . . with Diggory and all?"

Marie's frown became more pronounced. She looked over to the Hufflepuff table. Cedric was sat down with only a handful of his usual cohorts around him, the rest sitting apart, regarding him cautiously from the corners of their eyes when he wasn't looking. The blond boy wasn't as perky as he usually was but was putting on a good face because of his position as Head Boy.

"It was horrible," said Marie distractedly. She glanced back at the Irish boy, a serious look on her face. "We got portkey'd to a graveyard. Thought it might have been another part of the Task, you know? I honest to God thought Cedric had died; the Curse must have missed him by millimeters. He was laying there, as good as dead, and I couldn't do a damn thing 'cause one of them got the jump on me and tied to a headstone."

"Whoa," Dean breathed. "How did you—?"

"She shouldn't have to explain herself," Neville spoke up suddenly, a fierce look on his face. The other boys were taken aback at the normally low-key boy's sudden intensity. "Dangerous things have been happening to her since first year, shes ended up in the Hospital Wing at the end of the year since we got here. Hasn't she had everyone looking at her like she was a dangerous loony too many times to count? And hasn't it always come out that Marie was in the right the whole time? If Marie says something's going down, I'll take her word for it. She's never given any reason to doubt her."

Marie couldn't help but coo. "Oh, Neville, you're just the sweetest!" She climbed over Ron and pulled Neville into a hug.

"Steady on!" Ron squawked, holding his muffin in the air, shifting his legs farther apart to accommodate Marie's knees that pressed down dangerously near his junk. "Soddin' hell, woman, I still need that!"

Marie wriggled about teasingly. "Shut up, Ron, we're having a moment here."

"Can't it wait until my unborn children aren't in danger of being wiped out?"

"Nope."

"Th-the point is," Neville stammered, unsure with what to do with an armful of Marie. He had calmed down but was still resolute. "We've known Marie for longer than enough to know that she would never say that such a thing happened without her being completely honest about it."

Seamus' conflicted expression finally melted away when he realized the truth of Neville's words. "I guess you're right. It's just hard to wrap your head around, you know? Ma's always sworn by the Prophet so I never really thought about doubting it. But you and Diggory are a good sort, and Dumbledore. . . well, Dumbledore really is a loony, but there's no fooling him, is there?"

Marie pulled her legs farther over Ron's lap so that she was now squeezed between him and Neville instead of crouched on top of him. She wiggled very deliberately, shoving the red-headed boy sideways so she could sit more comfortably directly in front of Seamus and Dean instead of off to the side where she had been before. Ron obliged her scooting with a huff.

"Speaking of fooling," she said. "Please tell me I was having a waking nightmare last night when that human toad waddled up."

Dean guffawed. "If it was a waking nightmare, I was having the same one!"

They chattered pleasantly in this vein while more of their House trickled in, bemoaning the new atrocity that DADA would no doubt be. Angelina popped in to tell Marie that a tryout would be held for the newly opened Keeper position and that she was expected to show up to support the team. The conversation then drifted into Quidditch in which Ron fretted about trying for Keeper and Dean questioned the merit of him trying out for Chaser on the reserve team.

Hermione finally showed up, looking cross. She had not yet opened her mouth to explain her frustration when with a whoosh and a clatter, hundreds of owls came soaring in through the upper windows. They descended all over the Hall, bringing letters and packages to their owners and showering the breakfasters with droplets of water; it was clearly raining hard outside. Hedwig was nowhere to be seen, but Marie wasn't bothered; the only person she was currently exchanging owls with was Sirius, and she doubted he would have anything new to tell her after only twenty-four hours apart. Hermione, however, had to move her orange juice aside quickly to make way for a large damp barn owl bearing a sodden Daily Prophet in its beak.

"Are you still getting that?" asked Marie, tossing a grape into her mouth. "We'd get a likelier explanation of what's happening in the world by asking Trelawney for a crystal ball reading."

"It's best to know what the enemy are saying," said Hermione darkly, and she unfurled the newspaper and disappeared behind it, an apple in hand, not emerging until everyone else had finished eating. "Nothing," she said simply, rolling up the newspaper and laying it down by her plate. "Nothing about you, or Dumbledore, or anything."

Marie rested her chin on a fist. "Shame, I was wondering what wacky nonsense I've gotten myself into since yesterday." Hermione only 'hn'ed in response. "Who's spat in your soup then? I haven't seen you this cross since that garden gnome used a sheet of your homework as toilet paper."

Hermione's face wrinkled in disgust as the boys chortled. "Thank you for reminding me." She sighed. "It's Lavender. She got snippy with me. Fay asked me how you've been doing since that mess at the end of the year, and Lavender made it plain that she didn't believe it. She was down-right rude about it too."

Marie scrunched her nose and shrugged. "She can think what she wants. The truth doesn't change just because you don't want to accept it."

Hermione was still frowning but nodded all the same.

Professor McGonagall was then walking down the length of the table, handing out schedules as she went. Her eyes scanned over Marie when she reached the younger girl but she said nothing.

"Look at today!" groaned Ron. "History of Magic, double Potions, Divination, and double Defense Against the Dark Arts. . . Binns, Snape, Trelawney, and that Umbridge woman all in one day! I wish Fred and George'd hurry up and get those Skiving Snackboxes sorted. . ."

"Do mine ears deceive me?" said Fred, arriving with George and squeezing onto the bench beside Marie, shoving Ron over once again. "Hogwarts prefects surely don't wish to skive off lessons?"

"Look what we've got today," said Ron grumpily, shoving his schedule under Fred's nose. "That's the worst Monday I've ever seen!"

"Skiving Snackboxes?" Marie echoed. "What's that?"

"Not anything you should be interested in, Marie," Hermione put in, determination now on her face. She looked at the twins sternly. "You shouldn't encourage the younger students to skip lessons or test your questionable products on them."

"Here now!" George protested. "You don't have to make it sound so insidious. There was a demand so we're supplying a response; we're not clubbing anyone over the head and dragging them off."

"We're definitely not forcing anyone to test our stuff either," Fred added. "We've a screening process ready, you know. There's no guarantee they'll be accepted as testers; they have to physically well enough and not allergic to any of our ingredients."

Hermione was resolute. "You're presenting them with a temptation that won't do them any favours!"

George snorted. "And I suppose if mum left a pie on the window to cool, and Ron came 'round to eat it when he wasn't supposed to, it would be her fault for baking a pie?"

"Oi!" Ron protested. "Leave me out of this!"

"They're your brothers, Ron! Tell them they can't do this!"

Ron looked like he'd rather ask Moaning Myrtle on a date. "Come off it, not even Charlie could get these two to do what he told them, and he was Head Boy at the time."

"So you're not even going to tell them it's wrong?"

"What's the point? You might as well tell Snape he's unfair; exactly zero fucks will be given."

"Don't swear!" Hermione scolded. "We're supposed to set a good example!"

Marie watched in resignation as the two descended into argument again. Sighing, shot the twins a pointed look. Quietly, as to know catch Hermione or Ron's attention, she said, "Would I be right in assuming my investment is being put to good use?"

The twins winked at her conspiratorially.

"No better use for it," said Fred.

George nodded. "We're looking at a good flow of gold pouring in if we can get our stuff out among the students soon enough."

"They get to know our products well enough while we're still here, they'll get so used to buying from us—"

"— that we'll have an already steady customer base by the time we officially open shop."

Marie nodded approvingly. "Sounds like you know what you're doing." She glanced at the arguing pair once more. "I don't suppose I'll have to tell you two that my name should never be brought up. I don't want to know what would happen if Hermione, or your mother, or even Ron knew I gave you the gold."

"No worries, mate," Fred assured, clapping her on the shoulder. "Your secret's safe with us."

---

Marie's good mood had taken a beating by the time they arrived at Defense.

History had been the usual snore-fest though sleep had alluded her under Hermione's disapproving gaze. She and Ron had used a corner of the parchment she was using to take notes to play hangman instead, and Hermione's sensibilities couldn't have been more offended if they had kicked a House-Elf. There had been threats of with-held notes, but they came to nothing after Ron had pandered to the curly-haired girl's pride of her intelligence appropriately. Ron might be considered thick, but he know what button's to push.

There had been an awkward encounter with Cedric's on-again-off-again girlfriend, Cho, who used to be friendly with Marie until she thought Marie was trying to take Cedric away from her. They hadn't talked since before the Yule Ball last year, and it was apparent to Marie that Cho was only talking to her again to show Cedric that she believed them. Thankfully, Ron scared her off with an aggressive interrogation about the Quidditch team she supported. Hermione called him tactless but Marie had wanted to hug him.

Potions was the catastrophe it always was when Marie's year were in attendance. Neville almost destroyed his cauldron; Seamus had a mishap with fire; Malfoy and his ilk were actively distracting; Marie did well enough considering her circumstance but of course was degraded; same old, same old. The only difference this time around was the promise that this would be the last year she would be forced to deal with Snape's disgusting prejudice. Actually, she was thinking of calling it a bad job altogether and just refuse to attend his classes. She could hire a tutor that actually did his bloody job of teaching and maybe then she actually learn something.

Hermione confessed herself disappointed in his continued bad attitude, expecting him to to better now that he was part of the Order.

"Poisonous toadstools don't change their spots," said Ron sagely.

Marie was inclined to agree.

It was a fed up Marie that stalked down the corridor to the DADA classroom, Ron and Hermione trailing after her. When they entered, they found that Umbridge woman already seated at the teacher's desk, wearing the fluffy pink cardigan of the night before and the black velvet bow on top of her head. Marie was put into the mind of a large fly perched unwisely on top of an even larger toad. Poor woman; she had a face not even a mother could love.

The lesson was proven to be a let-down from the moment Umbridge told them to put their wands away. Everyone knew that meant nothing fun. Marie dug out a quill and some parchment as the professor tapped on the blackboard. 'Defense Against the Dark Arks; a return to basic principles' appeared on the board.

"Well now, your teaching in this subject has been rather disrupted and fragmented, hasn't it?" stated Professor Umbridge, turning to face the class with her hands clasped neatly in front of her. "The constant changing of teachers, many of whom do not seem to have followed any Ministry-approved curriculum, has unfortunately resulted in your being far below the standard we would expect to see in your O.W.L. year.

"You will be pleased to know, however, that these problems are now to be rectified. We will be following a carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic this year. Copy down the following, please."

The more she talked, the more Marie wanted to punch her in the teeth. Theory-centered? Ministry-approved? If she wanted her life with no practical experience and structured by the government, she'd check herself into Hotel Azkaban.

She had them write down a whole lot of nothing, winding bureaucratese that basically told them nothing beyond the fact that she knew how to drone on without any point. The chapter she had them read was as useless as everything else she had been pouring on them. This Wilbert Slinkhard chump knew as much about using defense as a duck did about using a toaster-oven.

The only interesting thing that happened was Hermione pointedly not reading the chapter. In contrast to her usual book-gobbling, Hermione instead stared at Umbridge with all the intensity of a vampire locking in on its next meal. She kept it up long enough that half the class took notice and abandoned their reading in favor of watching her.

Umbridge had been ignoring her the whole time, but could no longer do so when it was blatantly obvious that Hermione had something to say.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" she asked Hermione, as though she had only just noticed her.

"Not about the chapter, no," said Hermione.

"Well, we're reading just now," said Umbridge, showing her small, pointed teeth. The fuck? What kind of person had pointed teeth? "If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class."

"I've got a query about your course aims," said Hermione.

Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows. "And your name is —?"

"Hermione Granger," said Hermione.

"Well, Ms. Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear if you read them through carefully," said Umbridge in a voice of determined sweetness. It was the same tone Marie had heard suspicious men in white trucks use when trying to coerce children into taking candy. A sign of someone that meant children harm if there ever was.

"Well, I don't," said Hermione bluntly. "There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."

There was a short silence in which many members of the class turned their heads to frown at the three course aims still written on the blackboard. As Hermione said, there was nothing about practicals.

"Using defensive spells?" Umbridge repeated with a little laugh. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Ms. Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

"We're not going to use magic?" Ron interjected loudly.

"Students raise their hands when they wish to speak in my class, Mr. —?"

"Weasley," said Ron, thrusting his hand into the air.

Umbridge, smiling still more widely, turned her back on him.

Oh, hell no, bitch, you did not just do that. Umbridge had placed herself even higher on Marie's shit-list with that dismissal. Not even Snape disregarded them in such a way.

Hermione's hand was in the air.

"Yes, Ms. Granger? You wanted to ask something else?"

"Yes," said Hermione. "Surely the whole point of Defense Against the Dark Arts is to practice defensive spells?"

"Are you a Ministry-trained educational expert, Ms. Granger?" asked Professor Umbridge in her falsely sweet voice.

"No, but —"

"Well then, I'm afraid you are not qualified to decide what the 'whole point' of any class is. Wizards much older and cleverer than you have devised our new program of study. You will be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way —"

Marie's hand pointedly raised in the air, cutting the woman off. Umbridge had stepped closer to Hermione to speak and she had come within smacking distance when Marie's hand shot up.

"Ms. Potter?" Umbridge asked blandly after a moment's pause. "You have a question as well?"

"I was wondering what kind of fights you've been in that you didn't need to practice for, and with your opponent not meaning you any harm."

"I repeat," said Professor Umbridge, smiling in a very irritating fashion. "Do you expect to be attacked during my classes?"

"I do, actually," Marie replied, returning the false smile just as condescendingly. "Defense is the class I've been attacked in the most; it would make sense that it would happen again."

"I do not wish to criticize the way things have been run in this school," she said, smile stretching her wide mouth. "But you have been exposed to some very irresponsible wizards in this class, very irresponsible indeed — not to mention," she gave a nasty little laugh. "Extremely dangerous half-breeds."

"If you mean Professor Lupin," piped up Dean Thomas angrily. "He was the best we ever —"

"You're name is—?"

"Dean Thomas."

"Raise your hand, Mr. Thomas. As I was saying — you have been introduced to spells that have been complex, inappropriate to your age group, and potentially lethal. You have been frightened into believing that you are likely to meet Dark attacks every other day —"

"No, we haven't," Hermione said "We just —"

"Your hand is not up, Miss Granger!"

Hermione put up her hand; Umbridge turned away from her.

"It is my understanding that my predecessor not only performed illegal curses in front of you, he actually performed them on you —"

"Well, he turned out to be a maniac, didn't he?" said Dean Thomas hotly. "Mind you, we still learned loads —"

"Your hand is not up, Mr. Thomas!" trilled Professor Umbridge. "Now, it is the view of the Ministry that a theoretical knowledge will be more than sufficient to get you through your examination, which,

after all, is what school is all about. And your name is?" she added, staring at Parvati, whose hand had just shot up.

"Parvati Patil, and isn't there a practical bit in our Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L.? Aren't we supposed to show that we can actually do the countercurses and things?"

"As long as you have studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why you should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions," said Professor Umbridge dismissively.

"Without ever practicing them before?" said Parvati incredulously. "Are you telling us that the first time we'll get to do the spells will be during our exam?"

"I repeat, as long as you have studied the theory hard enough —"

Marie had heard enough. "Professor, you could read everything there was to know about how an instrument works and you would still be completely useless at it since your body isn't trained in the way it's supposed to move yet! How can you expect magic to be any different? What good is theory without practice in the real world?"

Professor Umbridge looked up. "This is school, Ms. Potter, not the real world," she said softly.

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting out there?"

"There is nothing waiting out there, Ms. Potter."

"Are you kidding me?" said Marie. Her patience had reached its limit and the question came out in a way that questioned the woman's mental capabilities in a way that couldn't be denied.

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourselves?" inquired Professor Umbridge in a horribly honeyed voice.

"Hmm, let's think. . ." Marie wondered in a mock thoughtful voice. "Murderers, kidnappers, rapists, and muggers maybe? What about those psychos that kidnapped Cedric and me? What about things like grindlylows and acromantulas? Those can be found not far from the school. What about those 'extremely dangerous half-breeds' you mentioned earlier?"

"What about You-Know-Who?"

The class froze at the quiet addition to Marie's verbal smack-down. They turned to see who had dared to mention the elephant in the room. There, sitting at the back like she always did, Fay Dunbar was glaring at her desk with a heat that was most unlike her. She was the most unassuming of the Gryffindor fifth-years, even more so than Neville; she never volunteered anything during classes. That she said anything at all told her year-mates exactly how strongly she felt about the topic.

"And your name is?" Umbridge asked tightly.

"Fay Dunbar," Fay replied as softly as ever. She looked up and set her stern stare on the professor.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Ms. Dunbar."

The class degenerated even further than it already had when Umbridge launched into a propaganda speech, denying anything to do with Voldemort. There was more shouting, but this time, the students didn't bother even trying to pretend that they respected the woman enough to raise their hands.

By the end of it, several more points were lost and Marie somehow got pinned with a detention, though truth be told, she actually was among the few that stayed the calmest. It probably had something to do with the fact that she had said, "Why shouldn't we learn how to cast the spells? What are you afraid of, that we'll overthrow the government or something?" The sharply fanatic look in Umbridge's eyes was very telling.

Umbridge became wholly fed up with them and ended class early. Most all of them were in a fierce temper and they scattered to cool off before their next classes. Marie purposefully kept her stride as even and unbothered as she could; she wasn't about to let that bottom-feeder parasite get the better of her.

"There's some good news and bad news," Marie said, catching the attention of her fuming friends. "The bad news is the Minister and his cronies are conspiring against us, going out of their way to make sure we learn as little as possible about defending ourselves out of some mad scheme to suppress the underground student militia they believe we're organizing. Not only is that hurting our chances of surviving the shit no doubt headed our way, but it also stomps all over our chances of doing well on our DADA O.W.L.s; theory is all well and good, but they don't do anything for us for the practical portion of the test. Our lives and grades are being endangered."

Hermione looked like she was ready to pull her hair out. "And what's the good news?"The question came out almost a snarl.

Marie looked at the other girl slyly from the corner of her eye. A smirk touched her lips. "I just saved 15 percent on my car insurance by switching to Geico." Then she was off, streaking down the halls.

Hermione's brain short-circuited for a second. The vein in her forehead throbbed. "GOD DAMMIT, MA-RIE!" She took off after her friend.

---

Chapter 5

---

The day after the first wave of students dealt with the new professor was met with irritation from those that had already landed in detention with the vile woman and frustration for those that had managed to hold their tongues despite her worthless lesson. On the Gryffindor side of things, she was hated almost as much as Snape, quite an accomplishment considering the Potions professor had years to achieve their detestation while she had only taken a few hours. She didn't have many fans in the other Houses either.

The night before, at dinner, many an assessing look was sent Marie's way. It seemed that Fay's questioning about how they were to defend themselves from Voldemort reminded them once more about Marie's claim of the Dark Lord's return. They spoke in indiscreet lowered voices, poking at her temper as if they were tempting her to explode at them so they could get a first-hand account. This demonstrated exactly why they were in the House of the brave; Marie was famous for her explosive rage and yet they poked at the sleeping lion.

Despite their efforts, Marie kept her temper, ignoring them in favour of thinking up ways to get rid of Umbridge. Her plots fell into the realm of fantasy almost immediately, drifting through daydreams of transfiguring Umbridge into a frog and selling her to a French restaurant. Marie left the Great Hall with her best friends on her heels, not even bothered by the sneering at her detailing of what happened after the Third Task. Yes, she had been irritated for a split-second, but that was before she remembered that the people discussing her were the same people that convinced themselves that a twelve-year-old muggle-raised half-blood had somehow gained control of a monster older than the Holy Roman Empire, and had tried to commit genocide against people like her own mother with it.

The morning after was met with less 'covert' discussion on the topic of Marie, Cedric, and their sanity, but the side-glances remained. If Marie wasn't so used to it, she'd be as miserable as Cedric currently was; he really wasn't used to being shunned

Speaking of miserable Hufflepuffs, Marie had promised Sally-Anne that she'd talk to the other girl's friends for her.

Marie stood from the Gryffindor table with a quick word to her friends that she'd be back and strolled over to Megan Jones and Leanne Runcorn, coincidentally, not two seats over from where Cedric was sitting. She sent the Head Boy a friendly wave before addressing the two brunettes that regarded her cautiously.

"Mind if I sit?" asked Marie, gesturing at the space in front of them. "I've got a message from Sally-Anne."

The two girls looked wary before perking up at hearing 'Sally-Anne.'

"Sally-Anne? You've talked with Sally-Anne?" said Runcorn. She looked hopeful but doubtful. She motioned for Marie to sit. "I never heard her say anything about knowing you."

"We've never really talked to any Gryffindors in our year," added Jones.

"She moved nearby after third-year," Marie said, waving an idle hand. "It's a muggle neighbourhood so we started to hang out."

"Why didn't she come back?" asked Jones, her brows furrowing. "Why hasn't she owled us at all?"

"That's what she wanted me to talk to you about. She told me to tell you that she's sorry but her mum's pulled her out of Hogwarts because she thinks it's too dangerous, and that her mum won't let her use her owl for anything but mail-order and things like that."

"Are you serious?" said Runcorn. She looked incredulous. "But how is she supposed to take her O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s?"

The other Hufflepuffs nearby had paused in their conversations, unabashedly listening in.

"Well, she's homeschooling through an owl-correspondence program so I guess she'll take them that way as well." Marie shrugged. Honestly, she wasn't too concerned about Sally-Anne taking her tests or not. She doubted that the other girl would be the only witch in the world who didn't take O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s; she could easily get on in the Muggle world with everyday magic making sure she lived comfortably.

"You can't do the practicals through the mail!" cried Runcorn.

"Look, it'll be inconvenient, but if she's really bent on taking the tests, she could just take them after she comes of age. There's no law saying you have to take them while you're still in school, is there? Goodness, I'd thought you lot would be more upset about not seeing her again part instead of the odd schooling part."

The two flushed and made awkward faces.

"We're just concerned for her future," Jones protested. "Not many respectable places will hire you if you don't have at least your O.W.L.s."

Marie's lips curved upward slightly in bemusement. "I thought this was the Hufflepuff table, not Ravenclaw."

Jones puffed up in indignity. She was one of the ones that had worn those stupid 'Potter Stinks' badges the year before and it was clear her self-righteousness hadn't died down any. The girl snapped, "Just because we're not in the House for the nerds doesn't mean we're not intelligent! We work for what we get unlike some people!"

"Megan!" Runcorn gasped, shaking the other girl's shoulder sharply.

The eavesdroppers glanced away in embarrassment, taken aback at Jones' bluntly rude statement. Many turned away directly and pretended to continue their previous conversations.

Marie's lids lowered to half-mast and she rested her cheek against her knuckles, appearing for all the world as if the other girls were putting her to sleep. This was another reason she was putting little stock in the importance of what the other students thought of her, so many of them jumped to conclusions before they could even finish processing a thought and ran head first into an opinion without sitting down to figure out if it was reasonable.

She regarded them indifferently for a moment.

"So quick to jump to offense," said Marie, her tone distant and bored. "So fast to insult." She took in the haughty brunette's stiff expression. "Buying into stereotypes and looking down on people isn't very nice, you know; you sure you fit in among those that are supposed to be kind and unbiased?"

"What would you know?" said Jones, upper lip curling in derision.

"Megan," Runcorn said again, disbelief written on her face.

Marie's face didn't change. "With mood-swings that violent, I'd have pegged you as a Gryffindor. Or was it because you only reveal how you really are with a crowd of back-up that the Hat shipped you off to the only House that was accepting enough to deal with a two-faced coward?"

"What did you just say to me?" Jones shrilled, her voice raising.

Marie glanced up to the teacher's table, but it was too loud in the Hall that none of them noticed the disagreement happening at the Hufflepuff table. She looked back at the now fuming Jones.

"Hard of hearing as well, are you?" Marie said, getting up from the table. "They must make them more patient here than I thought."

Jones got to her feet as well though Runcorn tried tugging her back into her seat. "What, running away now?" A catty expression spread across her face. "Where's all the Gryffindor courage?"

Marie tilted her head back at the taller girl, effectively looking down her nose at Jones. "What am I supposed to be running from? Are you going to do anything besides talk smack?"

Jones snarled at Marie, an ugly expression on her face. Runcorn looked terribly upset and embarrassed at the situation, sending Marie a wobbly apologetic look.

"Message delivered," said Marie, shrugging a shoulder. "Mission complete. Why the hell would I stick around?"

"You're so full of it, Po—!"

"Settle down before I start handing out detentions," a stern voice chimed in.

Cedric was stood up from where he had previously been sitting, a displeased look on his face. He had been staring off at the far wall aimlessly before Marie made her way over.

He gave Marie a flat look. "Why are you causing trouble?"

Marie huffed, crossing her arms. "What trouble have I caused this time? Merlin, I come over to deliver a message between friends out of the goodness of my heart and there you are looking at me like I'm the Antichrist."

"'Goodness of your heart'," Jones scoffed, crossing her arms as well.

Marie sent the other girl a sharp look. "Yes, Jones. 'Goodness of my heart.' I certainly didn't have to come over here and put up with your PMS, but I did, because Sally-Anne asked me to do her a favour. You think I owe it to you to or something?"

"You insinuated we were dumb because we're Hufflepuffs! You came over and insulted us!"

"I certainly did not. You only took it that way 'cause you believe in those prejudices; don't think I missed you calling Ravenclaw the House of nerds!"

"Alright, alright!" said Cedric, raising a hand in a stopping motion. "That's enough of that. Jones, sit down and calm yourself. Marie, go do something else before you cause a riot."

Marie scoffed before smiling wryly at her friend. "Let's start a riot! A riot! Let's start a riot!"

Cedric snorted. "Go on then!" He waved her off.

Marie considered sticking around a bit longer just to be contrary but spotted Luna entering the Hall at the same moment, so decided to write it off as a bad job. Marie caught up with Luna halfway from the Ravenclaw table and invited the girl to sit with her and the rest of her friends at the Gryffindor table.

"Finally!" said Marie, guiding the blonde girl over arm-in-arm, pointedly not looking back at Jones. "Some intelligent conversation! I'm beginning to see what you mean about that Wrackspurt infestation, Luna."

Luna nodded solemnly. "There's only so much we can do when the ones afflicted refuse to accept they have a problem."

---

Marie wasn't sure why Ron and Hermione got into the most stupid of arguments. If it wasn't about homework and Quidditch, it was manners and house-elves. House-elves of all things! Marie wasn't sure why Hermione got on them about treating house-elves properly (or better yet, setting them free) when neither Marie nor Ron's family were in possession of any house-elves.

This particular instance of carrying-on about house-elves was instigated by Hermione working herself up into a froth about the Twins testing their products on the first-years, thus becoming too bothered to do homework.

She had wrenched her bag open; Marie thought she was about to put her books away, but instead she pulled out two misshapen woolly objects, placed them carefully on a table by the fireplace, covered them with a few screwed-up bits of parchment and a broken quill, and stood back to admire the effect.

"What in the name of Merlin are you doing?" said Ron, watching her as though fearful for her sanity.

"They're hats for house-elves," she said briskly, stuffing her books back into her bag. "I did them over the summer. I'm a really slow knitter without magic, but now I'm back at school I should be able to make lots more."

"You're leaving out hats for the house-elves?" said Ron slowly. "And you're covering them up with rubbish first?"

"Yes!" said Hermione defiantly, swinging her bag onto her back.

"That's not right," said Ron angrily. "You're trying to trick them into picking up the hats. You're trying setting them free when they might not want to be free."

"Of course they want to be free!" said Hermione at once, though her face was turning pink. "Don't you dare touch those hats, Ron!"

Ron, of course, cleared off the rubbish on the hats so they were fully visible as soon as Hermione had disappeared into the girl's dorm. "They should at least see what they're picking up," he said firmly.

Marie personally agreed with Ron. She certainly didn't believe in forced servitude — it hit a bit close to home after her younger years with the Dursleys — but she didn't agree at all with deceiving someone into doing something 'for their own good.' It smacked of a god-complex and a disregard for other people's opinions.

Hermione meant well, but often acted as if she was a parent and everyone else in the world were her infant children that needed her guiding them by hand. This was the reason Marie planned to stop leaning on Hermione for homework assistance; Marie was perfectly capable of handling her assignments herself and maybe it would help her friend ease up on the mother-henning.

She had thought the fuss about the house-elves would die off after the night before, but when Hermione came down to breakfast looking pleased with herself, Ron just had to ask. They had a full schedule that day and it was pouring outside, and the only bright side was that there was no Potions that day; Ron had been peeved that someone was in a good mood while he was visibly bothered.

To his inquiry, Hermione had said, "The hats have gone. Seems the house-elves do want freedom after all."

"I wouldn't bet on it," Ron told her cuttingly. "They might not count as clothes. They didn't look anything like hats to me, more like woolly bladders."

Marie face-palmed and smacked his shoulder but the damage was done. Hermione did not speak to him all morning.

---

By the time Marie showed up to her detention that night, she had a splitting headache. The day had been just short of horrendous. Ron and Hermione weren't talking to each other. They had double Transfiguration and double Charms, both preluded by a speech on the importance of O.W.L.s and how everything would become far more difficult for them this year. Whoopi-fucking-doo. If that was not enough, Hagrid was still missing (they had noticed his lack of presence when he didn't show up to the Feast) and that Grubbly-Plank woman was substituting again. Nothing against the woman, but Marie didn't appreciate the way many of the students acted as if they were glad Hagrid wasn't there.

Perhaps worst of all was when Umbridge came across students talking about what Cedric had said to them earlier in the day about Voldemort. She'd seemed to freeze in a state of unmoving frenzy before she stuck a detention on each of them, even extending Marie's detention into a week's worth even though Marie hadn't even been part of the conversation. Marie's protests were met by dear ears.

If all that wasn't enough, Marie had got bitten by a bowtruckle, Luna and Hermione had gotten into a stare-off about the validity of the creatures Luna talked about, and Angelina Johnson got on her case about getting a detention when she was supposed to be at the Keeper tryout. That last part really got Marie's goat.

"How can you even blame that on me?" Marie exclaimed, tossing her hands in the air in exasperation. "That woman was handing out detentions like they were coupons at a buffet! All I did was ask why she didn't want us doing practicals and she slapped one on me like a Shinto priest exorcising an evil spirit. You should have heard the amount she gave to Fay Dunbar!"

Angelina wasn't appeased. "Didn't I tell you I wanted to do a tryout with the whole team, and find someone who fitted in with everyone? Didn't I tell you I'd booked the Quidditch pitch specially? And now you've decided you're not going to be there!"

"I didn't decide not to be there!" cried Marie, stung by the injustice of these words. "I got my detention extended by that Umbridge woman for literally just standing there! Not even Snape has sunk so low! Don't act as if I'm blowing you off for the hell of it; one mention of Voldemort and she was ready to crucify us!"

"Well, you can just go straight to her and ask her to let you off on Friday," said Angelina fiercely. "And I don't care how you do it, tell her You-Know-Who's a figment of your imagination if you like, just make sure you're there!"

She stormed away.

"Snarly bitch." Marie muttered, getting a reprimand from Hermione. They entered the Great Hall. "I think we'd better check with Puddlemere United whether Oliver Wood's been killed during a training session, because she seems to be channeling his spirit."

"What d'you reckon are the odds of Umbridge letting you off?" said Ron skeptically, as they sat down at the Gryffindor table.

"Snape would sooner come out of the closet," Marie said plainly, not even acting glum. "Angelina's going to have to suck it up because there's no way in hell I'm crawling to that monstrosity and begging for any favours. Not that she would either way."

Marie resolved to send Ron with an apology note and a bar of chocolate for Angelina when she headed out for her detention on Friday. Ron was going to the tryouts anyway since he wanted to be Keeper so he was the logical sacrifice to offer to Angelina to take out her anger on.

When she arrived at Umbridge's door, she plucked her Seeing-Eye from the air and tucked it back into her robe-pocket. There were those that tried to get her in trouble for having it with her (Malfoy and Snape for example) but Professor Sprout's note proved its worth greater than gold. A slight smile on her face despite her headache, she knocked on the door and entered.

She had known the Defense Professor's office well after learning with Remus and the fiasco with the fake Moody, but the room had become completely unrecognisable. The surfaces had all been draped in lacy covers and cloths. There were several vases full of dried flowers, each residing on its own doily, and on one of the walls was a collection of ornamental plates, each decorated with a large technicolour kitten wearing a different bow around its neck. These were so foul that Harry stared at them, transfixed, until Professor Umbridge spoke.

"Good evening, Ms. Potter."

Marie started and looked around. She hadn't noticed Umbridge at first because she was wearing a luridly flowered set of robes that blended only too well with the tablecloth on the desk behind her.

Marie watched her steadily. "Evening."

"Well, sit down," Umbridge said, pointing toward a small table draped in lace beside which she had drawn up a straight-backed chair. A piece of blank parchment lay on the table, apparently waiting for Marie.

"Now, you are going to be doing some lines for me, Ms. Potter. No, not with your quill," she added, as Marie bent down to open her bag. "You're going to be using a rather special one of mine. Here you are."

She handed Marie a long, thin black quill with an unusually sharp point.

"I want you to write 'I must not spread lies,'" Umbridge told Marie softly.

"How many times?" Marie asked, with a creditable imitation of politeness. This uppity, fascist bitch. Marie had never even said anything about Voldemort herself!

"Oh, as long as it takes for the message to sink in," said Umbridge sweetly. "Off you go." She moved over to her desk, sat down, and bent over a stack of parchment that looked like essays for marking.

Marie raised the sharp black quill and then realized something was missing. "You haven't given me any ink." Seriously, how stupid was this woman?

"Oh, you won't need ink," said Professor Umbridge with the merest suggestion of a laugh in her voice.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Was this quill self-inking then? She sighed internally. Whatever.

Marie placed the point of the quill on the paper and wrote: I must not spread lies.

She let slip a gasp of surprise at the sudden pain. The words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of Marie's right hand, cut into her skin as though traced there by a scalpel — yet even as she stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth.

What the hell? What the fuck just happened?

Marie looked around at Umbridge. She was watching Marie, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile.

"Yes?"

Was that bint even serious? She just gave Marie a quill that inflicted injury on her as well as used her blood as ink! This had to be illegal! Wizard put more worth on their blood than Muggles and Marie knew damn well that such a thing was illegal in the Muggle world.

Marie got to her feet at once, her eyes never leaving Umbridge.

The evil woman tensed and frowned. "What are you doing, Ms. Potter? Sit down and continue your lines at once."

She was serious! She actually expected Marie to go along with it as well!

Marie snatched up her bag and moved to the door, the wretched quill still clenched in her hand. She was going to McGonagall at once and she was going to call the DMLE!

"Where do you think you're going, girl?" said Umbridge, getting to her feet as well.

She moved to follow after Marie but Marie pulled out her wand faster than blinking and aimed it straight at the bitch's face. They both stood stock still, Marie glaring in outrage, Umbridge in offended self-righteousness.

"Put away that wand at once! I'll have you expelled for threatening a professor!"

"And I'll have you tossed in prison for injuring a student!" Marie countered, her wand not wavering once. "You think I'm going to sit here and cut myself open because you told me to? You're mental!"

Marie began to walk backwards to the door, not letting Umbridge out of her sight. When she got to the door, she sent a kick to it, forcing it open. She called out, "Dobby!"

With a pop, Dobby appeared. "Marie Potter, Miss has—!" He stopped short, taking in the scene. His ears drooped. "Marie Potter, Miss is needing help?"

Marie did move her gaze away from the pink professor. "Yes, Dobby, I could really use your help, if that's alright. You see, I'm having a bit of a disagreement with Professor Umbridge here, and I'd feel a lot safer if you could bring some more Professors here." Umbridge twitched at the admission. "Professors McGonagall and maybe Sprout would be ideal. Anyone you could get to the quickest, really, as long as it's not Snape."

Marie's eyes darted when Dobby popped away and that was when Umbridge chose to strike.

"St—!"

"Mitto!" Marie barked. Umbridge's wand went flying at the disarming spell. "Sopio!" The woman tried to dodge but Marie's spells didn't come with coloured lights.

Umbridge dropped to the floor in a dead faint. Good lord, those spells Marie had learned at Sirius' house really worked!

Wand still at the ready, Marie walked over to the knocked-out woman and cast the Rope-binding Spell on her. Not five seconds later, the horrible beast was trussed up like a pig.

Less than a minute later, Professors Sprout and Flitwick were popped into the room. Dobby beamed at Marie and disappeared once more. Marie double-took just as Dobby disappeared. Had he been wearing a stack of hats?

"Merciful Merlin," said Sprout looking highly discombobulated. "What—? Miss Potter!" She had just noticed the scene before her.

Flitwick had been gaping since he arrived. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Sorry about this, professors," said Marie. "I asked Dobby to bring you here because Umbridge was completely out of line. Please tell me this is illegal." She held out the repulsive quill.

It was Flitwick that got to it first, looking appalled. "Merlin's beard! This is a Blood Quill! Why on earth do you have this?"

Marie jerked her head at the tied up teacher. "She gave it to me to write my lines. When I stopped, she told me to keep at it."

"A Blood Quill!" Sprout breathed, disbelief on every line of her face. "These have been illegal outside of controlled use in contract signing by Gringotts for almost a hundred years already! How did she even get her hands on one?"

"So, it's completely illegal of her to make me write lines with them?" Marie clarified.

Professor Sprout jerked. "Goodness! You mean to tell us you actually wrote with it? What did you write?!"

Marie picked up her parchment and gave it to the frantic professors.

"Thank Merlin for small mercies," Flitwick exclaimed. He breathed out a sigh of relief. "I feared the worst."

"What do you mean?"

"Ms. Potter, there's a reason it's only allowed for contract signing!" Sprout nearly shouted. "Writing in your own blood is as binding as it can get. Think of what would happened had you written 'I will not breathe.' You would be physically unable to draw breath ever again!"

Marie paled at the realization of how closely she had been to death. That damned woman nearly killed her!

"You understand now," Flitwick added. "It's very fortunate she formatted the statement with 'must' instead of 'will.' 'Must' makes it a guideline instead of vow."

The three stood in silence for a moment, their eyes on the tied-up bundle on the floor.

"Well," Sprout said finally, a resolved look on her face. "We'll be taking her to the Headmaster at once and floo the DMLE. Merlin willing, she'll be out of the school by nightfall."

The professors did just as they said, hitting Umbridge with stunner to prevent her from waking and levitating her out the door.

As they left, Professor Sprout tucked the Blood Quill in her apron pocket and addressed Marie. "Ms. Potter, I suggest you visit Madame Pomfrey to have your hand looked at before your return to your common room. When you get there, please tell Professor McGonagall that we'd like her with us in the Headmaster's office as well."

Marie watched them go blankly, almost unable to believe that such a thing just happened. Her Defense professor almost killed her! Granted, it was basically the done thing by now what with imposters, dark wizards, and dangerous beings trying their hand at teaching, but technically Umbridge had been the one that actually came the closest to offing her. And that was with a werewolf and a dark lord in the running as well.

She took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly. Damn it all to hell, it was on the second day of school as well.

"Dobby?"

The house-elf appeared again, this time more concerned than enthusiastic. Now that she got a good look at him, she could see that he was indeed wearing a stack of hats hats. The top most two looked to be the ones that Marie had seen Hermione leave out the night before.

"Marie Potter, Miss is needing more help?"

Marie thought about asking about the hats but decided to save it for later. "No, Dobby, I just wanted to thank you for being such a good sport and giving me a hand. I really owe you one."

Dobby shook his head furiously. "Oh, no, Marie Potter, Miss! Dobby is always happy to help Miss whenever she is needing it!"

"Dobby . . ." Marie put a hand her shoulder. "She had me writing with a Blood Quill. I see you know what that is." Dobby gaped in horror at her words. "Not to worry, I didn't write anything binding, I just wanted you to understand why I'm so appreciative. We really dodged a Killing Curse this time 'round."

"A-a-a B-b-bl-bl—" Dobby couldn't even get the words out.

"That's right," Marie agreed. She hitched her bag up to her shoulder again and beckoned to Dobby as she walked out the door. "Now, I'm off to tell McGonagall that the other professors want her. I'd love your company if you're free, we haven't really talked since the Second Task last year."

Dobby perked up again, bouncing as her bounded his way to her side. "Oh, yes, Miss! Dobby as plenty of time! Headmaster Dumbly-door has made it so all elves are taking breaks!"

Well, that would hopefully please Hermione.

"Mind if I ask about Winky?" said Marie as they walked. "Oh, by the way, how are the other elves feeling about Hermione's hats? She said the ones she left out last night were gone and I can see you're wearing them."

Dobby was still smiling, but his ears drooped a little. "None of the other elves will clean Gryffindor Tower anymore, not with the hats and socks hidden everywhere. They is finding them insulting, Miss. Tilly was picking up books and cried to Mackmack when she found a mitten. They is telling Dobby that Dobby must be cleaning Gryffindor Tower by himself unless Miss Grangy stops."

Marie's stomach sunk. It was worse than she had feared.

---

Hermione reacted as badly as Marie had expected.

After returning to the Tower far earlier than anyone had expected of her and then blowing them off to talk to McGonagall of all people first, her friends were suitably curious as to what had happened. Especially when McGonagall had bustled out of the Tower immediately afterward with a pinched look on her face none had seen on her since the Dementors attacked the Quidditch pitch.

Marie had told them what happened in plain words, commenting that she gave Umbridge props for continuing the tradition of trying to off her so early in the game.

"All the others waited until the end of the year," Marie had said, channeling all the nonchalance of Charlie Weasley as he talked about wrestling an adolescent dragon. "A little eager but I suppose waiting didn't work out for the others."

Ron poked at her for acting so blasé about it. "Honestly, the way you're describing it, you'd think it turned out she just didn't have the right N.E.W.T.s for the position."

"I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't. Didn't exactly give off a sense of competence, did she?"

"Oh, you two!" Hermione joined in. "This is serious business! I knew she was corrupt but I didn't think she'd think she'd do something illegal. Isn't that just stomping all over her 'obey the government' spiel?"

Marie's following conversation with Dobby didn't go over well either. Hermione didn't take kindly to the house-elves undermining her efforts.

"Of all the ridiculous things!" Hermione cried. "Why are they fighting it?"

Ron grunted. "I told you it wasn't right. Why would they thank you for trying to trick them?"

Hermione glared at him in response, already opening her mouth to answer back.

Marie, already tired from the long day and the fiasco of a detention, didn't have enough patience to listen to them go at it again. Before Hermione could say anything, Marie cut in, "Hermione, you do realize that you giving them hats isn't actually going to do anything, right?"

Hermione's mouth snapped shut. She blinked. "What?"

"I'm saying that you making them clothes and hiding hats and socks and whatever every is useless because they're not your house-elves. The clothes have to come from the one they consider their master."

The bushy-haired girl got a fanatical glint in her eyes. "Are you saying that Dumbledore has to—?"

"I'm saying you should stop because you're not doing anything but making more work for Dobby, and even if he likes it fine, that's sort of the opposite of what you want, right?"

"Don't be ridiculous! I'll just take to Professor Dumbledore and—"

"And what?" said Ron. "Convince him to get rid of the things doing all the cooking and cleaning that needs to be done? You're mental!"

"You could stand to do your own laundry, Ronald!"

"We're at school, Hermione! What time do we have to cook and clean in between all our homework and projects?"

"Another thing," said Marie, raising her voice a bit to distract the two from their argument. "I'm pretty certain they can actually leave whenever they want if they wanted to."

"What are you talking about, Marie? They're slaves; indentured servants at best! Slaves don't leave whenever they want to!"

Marie shot her a look. "Shut up a minute, would you? Listen, Dobby went to Dumbledore to ask to work in Hogwarts, he wasn't captured and shackled to the school. That means that house-elves know that if they want something to do, Hogwarts is a good place for it. From what I've seen, those elves asked to work here, they weren't forced. Sure, Dobby asked for pay, but it's far less than what Dumbledore offered him and he's not actually doing anything with it besides buying socks; his food and living space is provided for him.

"During your research of them, did you read about any sort of magic or law forcing the house-elves to stay with the families they serve?"

Hermione had no answer for that though she did look considering.

At having the other girl listening for the moment, Marie decided to get all the thoughts she'd put into the matter all out on the table.

"You know, outside of social conditioning, I think they can do what they want. From what I've observed with Dobby, the obedience he gave the Malfoys was because of abusive conditioning. It's like training a baby elephant not to escape by tying it to a metal post so when it's grown it won't try to escape even when the metal post as been exchanged for wood; technically they can leave, by they've lost the will to try anymore. That's an extreme case of course.

"I've heard the other elves talk about their previous families and a lot of them just go on and one about how good things were. From what I've seen of them, most are treated in a way that they wouldn't want to leave in the first place. It's like taking care of a kitten from birth so when they're grown, even when the doors are wide open, they don't feel a need to leave.

Marie saw Hermione ready to protest but barreled on so there would be no space for interjection.

"I mean, think about it: There's nothing magical about the clothes, it's just a statement saying that they're not wanted anymore. 'You're no good anymore; leave.' It's basically the house-elf form of a pink-slip. Who wouldn't be devastated by the people they've invested time and effort into saying that they're crap at their job and that they should get out?"

"It's not the same at all!" Hermione cried, smacking the table for emphasis. "They've been brainwashed into thinking all they should want is to work and that they shouldn't get anything in return for it! They've been made to believe that they have no worth outside of being slaves!"

Ron and Marie exchanged looks.

"Dobby knows full well he can do a lot more than keep house," Ron pointed out. "Did his damnedest to get Marie out of Hogwarts to keep her safe, didn't he? He tried to keep his hero safe because he chose to, not because he was told to. And Marie didn't tell him to send Malfoy Senior flying down those stairs but he sure did that too."

"And Dobby's a free elf now! He saw an opportunity to be free and he took it!"

"And ran straight to Dumbledore so he could be put to work!" Ron countered. "He even haggled down the price Dumbledore wanted to pay him! They like working! It's just how house-elves are!"

"That's the most absurd thing! Why would anyone want to work under someone instead of being free?"

"You do understand that they aren't human, right, Hermione?" said Marie, crossing her arms. "What sounds silly to you makes sense to them because they don't think the way a human would."

Hermione couldn't have looked more aghast if Marie had stabbed Crookshanks in front of her.

"Marie Potter, how could you say such a thing! Just because they're not human doesn't mean they're not people; they have a mind just like anyone else!"

"Stop jumping to conclusions! I know very well they're people; Dobby's my friend, isn't he? I meant that of course they're going to think differently. A crow isn't going to think like a dolphin, is it? Why would house-elves think about things the same way a human would?

"Look, do you remember that story about the shoemaker and the elves?"

Hermione nodded.

"Then you'll remember that the elves came and helped out because they wanted to. The shoemaker didn't do anything to make them stay, they did because they chose to. He woke up one day and there were elves taking care of the shoe-making for him. In return, all he had to do was treat them kindly and leave out things for them to eat.

"Remember how later on, when the shoemaker's wife left out clothing for them as payment instead of the bit of food, they left and never came back? Wouldn't that mean that receiving payment is an insult to them? Wouldn't you feel horrible if the people that you've treated like family suddenly threw money at you for something you did for them because you loved them? If it was me, I'd feel cheap.

"That's a muggle story and it's not the same," said Hermione, crossing her arms.

"You only ever read text-books and non-fiction in the library. I found a wizarding variation of that story in the Magical Creatures section."

"It's still just a story, Marie."

"Fine then, let's talk about the practicalities of setting them free. Where would they even go? House-elves don't exactly how their own settlements. You set them free and they'll be homeless."

"They can buy homes with the money they make when they ask for pay!"

"Since you're so insistent that house-elves are like humans, let me ask you this: Would you hire a homeless person to do anything in your home? Maybe if you're really trusting you'd take them in and let them care for your lawn and stuff like that, but you wouldn't give them money for it, you'd let them work for a room and food. How is being set free and then working for a room and food any different from what they have now besides being technically homeless?"

Hermione had no answer to that.

"And as to the question of where would they go, they would go to a place where they can work in exchange for food and a place to sleep, likely; exactly like where they were just tossed out of. Exactly as any homeless human, just like I said before.

"Isn't that what any person chucked out of their home would do when they have nothing else?" By this point, Marie was good and worked up. "What you're recommending is like kicking out a little kid while saying 'I love you so much, dear, so I'm not going to confine you the only place you've ever known. Be free! Go out and work for money so you can buy a home instead of staying with someone and taking care of them because they're your family.' Why do you think Winky's so upset? The Crouches were her family and she loves them still! Sure, they were mean to her, but they were all she had!

"That's the payment that they want, Hermione. They don't want gold for things they have no use for, they want to take care of the place they call home and to be called part of the family! Giving them clothes and telling them they should work for money would be like me telling you while you were taking care of your sick grandmother that you're a failure at nursing and you'd be better off getting a paying job in a different position!

"Now, do you understand why they don't want to be set free?"

Neither Hermione nor Ron had an answer to that.

---

AN: I hope you found Marie's thoughts on house-elves worthy of consideration. There's been a lot of different ways of dealing with them in fanfiction along with lots of explanations of why they do what they do and I hope you find my thoughts at least a little understandable.

---

Chapter 6

---

The rumours and conspiracy theories that abounded when it was announced that DADA would be self study until further notice were fantastic. Her housemates that caught sight of her smug expression when they started wondering what happened to Umbridge jumped on her. They prodded her for details since they remembered that she had detention with the awful bitch the night before.

Marie didn't go into details but she did mention that she caught Umbridge red-handed doing something illegal. Theories on what was awful enough to get her kicked out of the school immediately were tossed about; Marie's favourite was the one including questionable charms on a magical creature. The entirety of breakfast was spent doling out little hints and laughing at conclusions people jumped to.

Making her way to her first class, Marie was walking on air. Not even Malfoy sneering at her from across the way could get her down. Wanting to make the most of her good mood, she fetched out her Seeing-Eye and set it to floating beside her.

"The ruddy hell is that?" asked Ron, giving the winged eyeball a dubious look.

The two of them were walking to Charms together. It would have been three or more of them usually but Dean and Seamus were still eating, Neville had to double back to get his textbook, and Hermione had left earlier because she wanted to ask Professor Vector about an Arithmancy project she had been working on before class.

"Didn't I show you before?" said Marie. "I'm assuming you know what film is with your dad so into muggle stuff, right? Well, Sally-Anne got this sent in from America. It's a magical camera that can convert the film into a form muggles can work with."

"Why would you want to do that? I thought your relatives didn't want anything to do with magic."

"Pfft. As if I'd do anything for them!" Marie waved the ridiculous notion off. "I'm doing this for Sally-Anne. I made some muggle friends over the summer and they have a band. To get publicity up, I've been told to film myself. They eat it up apparently."

"You're in a band?" Ron looked tickled. "What, going be the next Weird Sisters, are you? Merlin, can you even play an instrument?"

"Don't be thick, Ron, I'm their female vocalist. I do some dancing, sing when they need me to front, and look pretty for the cameras. Hush up now," she shot him a suppressing look. "I want to get in some footage in before class or Sally-Anne'll kick my arse."

Ron snorted. "Rubbish. I've seen Perks before; she's no bigger than you are. What's she gonna do?"

Marie waved her hand impatiently. "Shush!" She beckoned the Seeing-Eye closer. "What's up, Boneheads? It's your girl, Malice VI—"

"Malice VI?" Ron interrupted, ducking his head into frame and eyeballing the camera. "Who the soddin' hell is that?"

"Ron!" Marie groaned, smacking him on the shoulder. "I told you to shut up! Bloody fuck, I'm filming here!"

"Since when do you cuss? If Hermione heard you . . ."

"Yes, yes, death and damnation, now shut up!" She turned back to the camera and scowled. "Anyway. Here I am, off to class, dragging this tosser with me. This is Ron by the way, we've been best friends since we were eleven. Not that it should matter 'cause I already told him like a million times already to shut his ruddy trap."

Ron shrugged nonchalantly and smirked.

Marie huffed. "I thought you guys would like a view of the school I go to. It's super old. It's actually a castle if you can believe it." She directed the camera to point at the stone walkway they were going down and the open window they were passing, catching sight of the towers. "Yeah, hella cool or what? I lost my shit when I first saw it. It was built back in the Middle Ages — in the 900s, I think — you know, back when King Arthur and Merlin were prancing about. It's like traveling back into time; just walking to class makes me feel like I'm LARPing."

She brightened. "Oh! Update on that demon munter of a teacher I told you guys about before: I actually caught her up to no good! Her hand was in the cookie jar, her pants were around her ankles, we found her in flagrante delicto, and all those other euphemisms but without the smexeh-times.I won't tell you what she did, that would be telling, but know that she was cuffed and taken out before she even knew what was happening. Now, I know you lot will whip yourselves up into a frenzy if I leave it at that, so be assured that she did not release her inner pedobear nor did anyone get O.J. Simpson'd. Well, I got a bit scuffed, but it wasn't more than a scratch really and I basically did it to myself."

"Moving on!" she said when she saw Ron's incredulous look. "I was thinking of staging some solo MVs here at the school; the fantasy feel would kick arse, right? Maybe some Lady Gaga; a Judas cover would be epic if I used the dungeons. Hell, yeah, tricked out in leather, hanging from some chains, going all 'Judas, Juda-ah-ah!' It'll take some fast-talk to convince a teacher if I do want to try it, but I sure as hell won't let them hang around to see what's up.

"Of course, It'll probably take a while to get out because of the 'zero tech' policy here and the fact that all filming done will be done by my amateur hands; hopefully the boys backstage will be able to edit the shit out of it and make it worthy of views. What do you guys think? Tell me about it in the comments, yeah?"

Marie and Ron finally entered the Charms corridor. The classroom was in sight.

"I'm gonna have to cut this off now, guys, I'm almost to class right now. Sorry it's so short. I'll be mailing this out to my uploader today so by the time you guys see this vid, another one will be hot on it's trail. Give this video a thumbs up if you liked it, check out the link to our Facebook fanpage in the description box, and leave me a message in the comment section down below if you want to say something disgusting and shameful that your mother would be ashamed of." She laughed at the look on Ron's face. She blew a raspberry. "See-ya! Malice, signing out."

"Merlin, Marie," said Ron, pushing open the door. "I didn't understand half of what you said. You didn't even sound like yourself; you started talking like 'Dung."

Marie rolled her eyes at him. "I'd be surprised if you understood any more of it. I was speaking 'Muggle degenerate youth,' not a language you're familiar with."

"And now you're back to talking like you've been rolling in Galleons all your life."

They sat in their usual seats and waited for the rest of the class to show up. There was still a good ten minutes before lessons started and the classroom was only half full.

"Just because I talk clearly and politely doesn't mean I'm some uppity numpty, Ronald Weasley. I talk in a way that suits the situation. School is for proper language, interacting with band fans is for more laid-back gabbin'."

"You even did it mid-sentence," mutter Ron.

Marie stuck her tongue out at him.

---

Hermione hadn't said much since their discussion about house-elves. She had been subdued for days. Marie would readily admit that she had let herself get worked up in a way that was completely unnecessary for the situation. She hadn't needed to all but slam the other girl's head into the table with her opinions even though her rant had been a long time in coming.

House-elves had been Hermione's schtick since the year before, and she had thrown herself into her crusade with pious fervour; she believed absolutely that what she was doing was right and she was determined that the right thing would be done. She was admirable in her conviction. The only challenge in the situation was that Hermione didn't understand why others didn't share her convictions or didn't devote as much energy into it if they did. She didn't understand that outside opinions could have just as valid research and thought put into them as hers.

It was not malicious intent that had Hermione urging her plans and actions on others. Yes, she came to believe that she was the one with the best answers, but it was because of that that she tried ever so hard to give those best answers to other people. She wanted to help others and what better way to help them than to give them the best way to do things? Marie understood that, likely better than anyone else besides Hermione's parents, but that didn't mean Marie wasn't bothered when her own thoughts and suggestions were steamrolled over.

The mess with freeing house-elves wasn't as straightforward as Hermione thought it was. Hermione couldn't conceive a situation where one could consider it better to keep things as they were than to brave the unknown; she didn't understand that freedom didn't always make up for being homeless with no prospects. She had never been a poorly treated child whose position in the household was always uncertain, so naturally she wouldn't understand why a house-elf — Winky for example — would want to stay with those who treated her — at best — like an unwanted step-child re-purposed as a servant. She didn't know the never-ending fear of abandonment that any child not naturally born into a family had; that was the fear that lived in every house-elf's heart, no matter how well treated.

If Hermione wanted better lives for house-elves, she needed to start small before working her way up. Setting them all free was a sweet aspiration but it really wasn't practical. On top of being homeless with no prospects as Marie had told the other girl, there wasn't a support system in place for them. None of the elves were mentally ready to be independent from masters; they couldn't conceive living without a wizard to take responsibility for them. Maybe that was the reason even the oldest of house-elves seemed so childlike in their interactions, they had never been treated as responsible adults so they never 'grew up.' Setting them free would have to be a long-term goal if Hermione really wanted to stick to it, but educating them on independent living and setting up a fall-back system for those that relapse should take priority.

Now that Marie thought on it, Hogwarts was rather like an enormous orphanage for house-elves; they were given means to sustain themselves while not actually having families of their own. Thinking about it this way made it all the more understandable why Tilly — the elf Dobby had mentioned to night of her detention — had burst into tears at the sight of the mitten Hermione tried to sneak into their possession. Not having a family and then being that told she wasn't wanted in her refuge likely cut her deeply.

Marie stood at the feet of her friend's bed as the other girl put on her shoes. It was the weekend and they had nothing planned; the day was completely wide open.

"Hermione?" said Marie, taking care to speak softly to not startled the girl who was thinking deeply.

Hermione jolted and looked up. "Yes?" Her voice was vague.

"I was thinking about seeing how Winky's doing. Dobby says she's still sad but she's getting a little better. Would you like to come with me?"

Hermione cast her eyes downward. "Would she even want to talk to me? I did say uncomplimentary things about Mr. Crouch."

Marie hummed. "True. But maybe if you ask her about what she liked about living with the Crouches it'll cheer her up."

Hermione thought about it for a moment. She looked up and smiled wryly. "I'd love to go."

---

Angelina took the disappearance of Umbridge as Marie's way of ensuring she would be there for the tryouts on Friday. The older girl had clapped Marie on the back when she saw Marie during lunch and praised her for creative problem-solving.

"Not the route I was thinking of," said Angelina, a delighted grin on her face. "But it got the job done and now we don't have to worry about anymore detentions coming from that front!"

It appeared that the obsessive nature of the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain was somehow an inherent part of the position; Angelina had never been so focused on the sport until she was granted the position just this year. Who knows? Maybe Oliver had been a laid-back dude before he took over the team . . . On second thought, Marie doubted that. Oliver wouldn't be Oliver if he wasn't foaming at the mouth.

Marie wasn't sure why she was obligated to be at the tryouts when she had nothing to do with playing Keeper. It wasn't like her position was in danger of being taken away from her, she was still the best Seeker in Gryffindor. And even if they were adding reserves to the team, it wasn't like the starting Seeker was needed to know how effective another would be. She had thought about bringing these thoughts up with Angelina but she didn't want her head bitten off again.

So on Friday, Marie showed up to the Pitch on time as was expected of her and proceeded to do absolutely nothing as a position she had absolutely no interest in was attempted to be filled. She was sitting in the stands with Hermione at her side as a handful of hopefuls — Ron included — set about going through testing drills and took turns protecting the goals as the Chasers tossed Quaffles at them.

If anyone asked, it was far more excitement than she could handle.

"So, wake me up when it's all over," Marie hummed to herself as her eyes remained on the fliers. She sighed. "When I'm wiser and I'm older."

Really, it wasn't that she thought being Keeper was unimportant, it was just that there wasn't enough flying action accompanying it for her tastes. There were so many things she could be doing instead right now! Like — like . . . um . . . doing homework! (No, scratch that, fuck homework.) Or baking a cake. Or learning to how to knit. Or maybe —

Marie tossed her leg over the railing and draped herself across it. As she eyed the hopefuls idly, she addressed Hermione: "Do you think anyone'll notice if I dress up a broom in my cloak and hat and leave it in my place while I go talk to Professor Flitwick?"

Hermione did not hesitate. "Yes." Then, after a few seconds of processing what Marie had just said, she pulled Marie back from the railing and asked, "What do you want to talk to him about?"

Marie shrugged and stretched herself across Hermione's lap. "I was thinking about starting some sort of Dueling Club like that Lockhart ponce failed at, except less dueling for sport and more defending against attacks. You know, so when everything finally goes to hell in a hand-basket, we won't be complete sitting ducks. Maybe have parts where we focus on exam material as well. The only part Unhinged had right was the fact that our education's been pretty spotty."

Hermione brightened. "Oh, so like a study group that focuses on practicals as well?"

Marie thought about it. "Yeah, you could say that. That would be a good way to sell it to Flitwick as well."

"But why Professor Flitwick? Professor McGonagall is the one that approves the creation of clubs."

"I was thinking of asking him to be club adviser, you know? Since he's been on the professional circuit, and everything. He'll probably know lots of cool tricks that would make dueling easier."

Hermione agreed that such a club would be a good idea and immediately started outlining how meetings would work and how they'd schedule what they would learn. By the time tryouts were over, both girls were ready to snatch up Ron and hop off to find Flitwick.

"But Angelina hasn't announced who made Keeper yet!" Ron protested when the girls jumped on him.

Marie rolled her eyes. "Oi, Angie!" she called to the Captain still scribbling on a sheet of parchment. When she looked up, Marie asked, "Yes or no question: did this prat here make the team?"

The rest of the hopefuls perked up; they had been too nervous to outright ask lest it counted against them.

Angelina glanced at her sheet and gave Marie a thumbs up. A round of groans went up.

"There, you see?" Marie said to the grinning Ron. She waved at the rest of the team as she and Hermione dragged their friend away. "See you lot later, we have a pressing engagement."

"There's a practice at two tomorrow!" Angelina called after them.

"Yeah, no worries, we'll be there!"

---

"MARION LILIANA POTTER!" came the screeching voice of Sally-Anne as the Howler she had sent to Marie exploded in Marie's oatmeal. "HOW DARE YOU DO SUCH A THING TO ME?! JUST WAIT UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, YOU PO-FACED PLONKER!"

Heads turned, conversations were stopped, food was paused on its way into mouths. A violently red letter was trembling with outrage as it danced in mid-air in front of Marie who didn't know what else to do but gape.

"In any other case, I might have thanked you," the Howler continued in a controlled manner not common to Howlers. It didn't last of course. "But I SURE AS HELL DON'T APPRECIATE IT WHEN YOU PUT ME IN A SITUATION WHERE I HAVE TO EXPLAIN TO MY HISTORY PROFESSOR WHY I HAVE HOMOEROTICA IN MY SCHOOL BAG!"

A burst of startled laughter escaped from Marie and she collapsed over the table, convulsing in hilarity. She pounded the table.

"I KNOW YOU'RE LAUGHING YOUR GUTS UP, YOU SLAG! DO YOU KNOW HOW COMPLETELY UNSEXY THAT MAN IS? HE'S MY GRANDDAD'S AGE AND HAS A PEDO-STACHE! I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT SLASHY GOODNESS WITH HIM; IT WAS SO SQUICK!

"AND DON'T YOU EVEN TRY TO DENY IT WAS YOU, ONLY YOUR OWL IS SMART ENOUGH TO SOMEHOW SNEAK INTO MY BAG AND GET OUT WITHOUT GETTING CAUGHT, AND ONLY YOU HAVE THE SODDING GALL TO TELL HER TO DO SO! I WOULDN'T EVEN BE SURPRISED IF YOU ORCHESTRATED THE WHOLE THING! DID YOU KNOW ONE OF YOUR COUSIN'S GORMLESS GOONS TOOK IT OUT OF MY BAG? HE THOUGHT IT WAS MY DIARY AND STARTED READING IT OUT LOUD! IN THE MIDDLE OF CLASS!"

A burst of hysterical laughter crossed with sobbing came from the Howler. When it started up again, it was quieter, shaking with laughter. "The look on Malcolm Prescott's face will be one I'll treasure 'til the day I die. I wish I had my phone with me so I could have recorded it!"

The Howler appeared to collect itself and continued speaking in what would have been a normal talking voice if it wasn't for the amplifying charm built-in. "You're bloody lucky I only got off with a stern lecture; if I had been sent to the principal or had a note sent home, I would strangle you with my bare hands! And future correspondence is to be sent to my house, in my room, or we are no longer friends. And don't doubt for a second I won't get you back for this, Marie! Expect the unexpected and sleep with one eye open; I will get you when you least expect it!"

Finishing off its bold declaration, the Howler rip itself to shreds and rained confetti on Marie's now soggy breakfast.

Not acknowledging the wide-eyed looks sent in her direction, Marie wiped the tears of glee from her eyes and sighed the sigh one gives after having a good laugh. She saw that there was another letter waiting innocently next to her bowl and immediately opened it. Inside, Sally-Anne had written another letter, one that she likely wrote before the Howler because it wasn't resentful in the least bit:

Hey, ho,

Here are some more songs to work on. The Seeing-Eye can play music by eating CDs so just feed this one to it. Wasteful as fuck, I know. You can make it blast the music out loud by just telling it what song you want but if you want to listen to it by yourself, it comes with a privacy warding. Just poke it under its left wing.

I expect at least an hour of footage to work with!

Sally-Anne

Inside the envelope with the letter was a burned CD.

"Well, that's one way to start the day."

"Bloody hell," whispered Ron, freckles standing out on his pale face.