Harry Potter and the Rogue Countercurse

Neither of the Weasley twins - well, none of the Weasleys, really - were known for being early risers. The seventh year boys' dormitory had been cleared out by the time Fred got around to waking up. It's probably better that way, thought Fred groggily, as neither he nor George knew the boys in seventh-year welI.

It was an awkward feeling now that their class had graduated and moved on and they were still stuck here putting up with Potions homework and McGonagall's stupid rules. The absence of Lee Jordan was strongly felt by both boys, and although they would always have fond memories of Howarts, they now knew why there were only seven years. Eight was just too much. Still, it felt nice spending time with their younger siblings, Harry, and Hermione.

Which reminded Fred: "Hey, George! George, wake up!" he said, striding over to George's four-poster and shaking his slumbering twin.

"What?" said George, suddenly sitting bolt upright and looking around the deserted dormitory.

"It's almost noon, and we've got to find Hermione to talk to her. Remember?"

George grimaced. "You woke me up for that? Listen - I think our talk can wait until we're both sufficiently rested. So I'll just-"

Fred yanked the covers off his indignant twin and started whacking him on the head with a pillow. "Get up, get up, get up!"

"Ow!" cried George. "Okay, okay!" He tried to straighten his rumpled hair and glared viciously at his twin. "Why the rush? Can't we just talk to her at breakfast?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "I think we missed breakfast, mate."

George stood up and walked crossly over to his trunk. "Lunch, then?"

"Dunno if she'll be there."

"Where else would she be?"

Fred just stared.

"Oh, right," said George. "Library."

"Yeah," said Fred. "She's always doing homework or something. Which reminds me, we've got a ton of work to do this weekend. We need to do that Animagi research project for McGonagall, and that research on the Cloning Charm ..." Fred surveyed George. "You know, I've always wondered if Mum used that on me. Our freckles are even in the same spots.'

"Well if she did use the Cloning Charm, who's to say she didn't use it on me? Maybe you're the clone."

Fred snorted. "Highly unlikely. After seeing what you were like, I really doubt she fancied having another one."

George grinned, then shook his head. "You know, I hate this. All this stupid stuff. Research, homework, projects... I mean, we have a job. We got it for ourselves, you know? No one helped us."

"Harry helped us," Fred reminded him.

"Yeah, well, Mum didn't. All she did was nag us and discourage us. We only came back for her. And to my mind, we don't owe her anything."

Fred sighed. "I think that's the secret of females. They twist everything around so it's our fault. Still, I know what you mean. I wish I was out there instead of in here. I mean, we can't even help the Order while we're at Hogwarts."

George nodded fervently. While the Order had been only too happy to let the twins join this year, they had basically told Fred and George that while they were at school, there was really nothing they could do.

"That's the worst. We should be helping. Fighting. Or at least working, like Lee is." Lee Jordan had been recently hired as a news broadcaster for the Wizarding Wireless Network. The twins supposed that all those years of commentating at the Quidditch matches had helped him get a taste for it. They couldn't wait until Lee had been sufficiently trained to go on the air - as there would be no Professor McGonagall around to censor his language.

Fred shrugged. "Oh, well. We're here, anyway. And it's not so bad hanging around with Ron and Ginny.'

"And Harry."

"And Hermione. Who we-"

"Still need to talk to, I know, I know," grumbled George.

"Right. So let's get dressed and head downstairs."

"Now?" asked George.

Fred held up the pillow warningly and George acquiesced. "Now."

*****************************************************************************************************************

Many miles away, a man named Remus Lupin was sitting at a kitchen table, in a modest home located near a forest and little else. Lupin immensely preferred the quiet, sylvan solitude to a flat in Hogsmeade or a London apartment. There were other reasons he chose to live away from people, too - more practical ones. At the moment, he was calmly swirling a spoon in his tea and reading the Daily Prophet.

Lupin was trying to focus his eyes, but the words seemed to be blurring hopelessly. He sighed. Though typically a morning person, he had not slept well. He had been plagued by dreams, many of them - and he had woken after each one starting, yellling - certain that they were real.

First the dreams of James and Lily - that night of terror so many years ago, the cries, the pleas for mercy. His hands shook as he raised the tea to his lips. He had not been there on that night but he had known all the same what had happened - and there had been other nights like it, other nights of loss and pain. He could imagine all too well what it had been like.

Then he had dreamed of another night, a night even farther back in the past than the first dream had been. He dreamed of himself, lying on the floor of the Gryffindor common room. Not alone, either. A dark-haired boy lay over him, tracing lazy circles over his eyes, his face, his lips. The boy's laughing eyes gazed into his, his shoulders rose and fell with each breath, and the firelight made his skin glow to an intense red.

"I wonder," whispered the dark-haired boy, "what James would say if he knew." They laughed together, thinking of it.

But James had known. Lupin was sure of it. And he had never said anything, whether out of respect or revulsion Lupin had never known. And would never know, because James was dead. But James and Sirius had been the best of friends. And Sirius had never been good at hiding what he felt, even if he never said it.

So yes. James had known.

And the final dream. The dream that continued, despite his best efforts to clear his mind before sleep. Another night, recent. A night of horror and madness where he had failed in protecting his loved ones, and the dark-haired boy he had loved so well had been lost to him.

But, no. No. He wouldn't think about it, he wouldn't dwell on it now that he was awake. There was nothing he could do, nothing at all, and-

Lupin's thoughts were jarred as a dark screech owl came soaring in through the open kitchen window and landed on the table, upsetting Lupin's tea. The owl bore a letter with the Hogwarts seal. He wondered what on earth Dumbledore wanted him for - it couldn't be Order business, Dumbledore would never send anything of great importance by owl. It could be intercepted too easily.

He thanked the owl who flew away, satisfied that it had done its duty, and unrolled the piece of parchment.

     Remus,

    I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing to

     offer you a job at Hogwarts. I regret to say that it is impossible

for me to offer you an official teaching position, but

due to recent events, I feel that your background in fighting the

dark arts would prove invaluable to me. Should you accept my

    offer, reply by owl post and be ready to arrive by next Wednesday

     at the latest. I hope I will see you soon.

     Albus Dumbledore

Lupin read the letter again. A job? A paying job? Lupin closed his eyes and gave a silent thank you to Albus Dumbledore. Last year, a particularly horrible witch named Dolores Umbridge had managed to pass a piece of legislation through the Ministry that made it nearly impossible to get a job, due to his status as a werewolf. It was difficult enough to get a job before that. No one wanted an employee who had to take time off once a month. They liked it even less when they found out why he needed that time off.

Lupin sent a hurried reply to Dumbledore, and realized that he had sent the owl off without waiting for it to take his answer. He would have to use Galahad. Galahad was an extremely stand-offish, jumpy, angry owl he had purchased last year in Diagon Alley. He had been inexpensive, and Lupin was quite sure he knew why. He would take days to make simple journeys, and sometimes he refused to go at all. It took much coaxing and cajoling before Lupin was able to convince the owl to take his reply to Hogwarts. He promised him that he would give him lots of owl treats when he returned, and finally, Galahad stuck out a talon and allowed Lupin to tie the letter on. Giving him a horribly vicious look, Galahad stomped to the windowsill and took off into the open sky.

**********************************************************************************************************

Hermione bit her lip and self-consciously smoothed her skirt.

What on earth had come over her last night? What had she been thinking? All she knew was that she had been so sick of the noise in the common room. This year more than ever she needed to concentrate on her studies. She had to have that Head Girl badge. Had to.

She had thought it a convenient and harmless lie - to say that Professor McGonagall had banned those games. All she had wanted was a bit of peace. And now there was talk of protests and petitions. This was all her fault - and yet - who knew people could care about games so much?

She had a nasty feeling Fred and George were behind the petition, which was bad because neither of them would stop until they had their way. And not only were Harry and Ron against her on this, they also suspected that she had been lying. If only they didn't know her so well!

Well, thought Hermione, she would simply have to tell them the truth. She would own up that she had lied. It would be difficult, but she wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing. Also, she resolved, she would tell them by tomorrow. Yes, indeed - or her name wasn't Hermione....

Hermione.

"Hermione?" Hermione jumped, startled.

"Yes?" she asked. She looked up into the round blue eyes and freckled face of her friend Ron.

"Are you okay? You look horribly uncomfortable about something."

"I'm fine," she said smoothly.

"No, you aren't," he said.

Oh. Maybe not so smoothly.

"It's just...homework. You know," she said, sounding flustered even to her own ears.

"Okay," said Ron, though he sounded unconvinced. "D'you want to come to Quidditch practice with Harry and me? It's nice out."

Hermione nodded. Fresh air. That sounded like a good idea. Also, Fred and George could not possibly antagonize her if they were racing around on broomsticks.

She and Ron walked over to Harry, who was finishing the last of his peach cobbler.

"Hello," he said with his mouth full.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Did you schedule the Quidditch pitch for this afternoon?" she asked.

Ron nodded. "We booked it for one o'clock. The Slytherins should just be finishing up."

After Harry had finished, the three friends walked down to the Quidditch pitch together. As Ron had said, the Slytherins were practicing - but it did not, however, look as though they planned on finishing any time soon.

"Malfoy!" shouted Harry, but the Slytherins were too high up to hear - either that, or they were ignoring him.

Harry and Ron shouted together several times, and finally Malfoy raised a hand to halt the team's practice and flew down to where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were standing. He hovered several feet above them as he spoke.

'What is it, Scarhead?"

Harry clenched his fists. "Look, I don't want to start anything. Your time's up, it's our turn to practice."

"Well, we're not through. Come back later if you want it so badly," said Malfoy, looking bored.

Ron's face was turning redder. "Malfoy, we booked the pitch for-"

"Save it, Weasel," snarled Malfoy.

Hermione sighed loudly. "Do you want me to get Professor McGonagall and have her make you get off the field?"

Malfoy slowly turned his head to look at Hermione. He stared straight into her eyes. As if he knew exactly what buttons to push, he raked his eyes slowly down her body and back up again and curled his lip in an unmistakable smirk.

There was no way Hermione could miss the overt sexuality of that look, and Harry and Ron immediately flew into a rage.

Malfoy's teammates had started to descend by this point and three of them actually came onto the ground.

Not able to get to Malfoy, who was out of reach, Harry flew at one of the Slytherin boys and Ron, who had headed to Harry to back him up, was ambushed by one of the other boys. Hermione froze. There were several spells she could use on the Slytherins, but she was afraid she might hit Harry or Ron. The third boy looked as though he wasn't sure what to do. Hermione wasn't posing much of a threat, and Slytherin though he was, he seemed rather reluctant to hit a girl. He looked up at Malfoy who glared down at him. Malfoy shrugged.

"Leave her. She's not worth getting detention for." As he said this, he stared into Hermione's eyes again and they locked into hers. She found herself unable to break the eye contact. His eyes were icy. Utterly unlike anyone's she had ever seen. She felt nervous, and more than a little confused. Look away, she told herself, look away. But it didn't happen. Until-

"What is the meaning of this?"

Everyone turned to see Professor Snape heading towards them. The boys immediately let go of each other. The Slytherins relaxed. Harry and Ron assumed the defensive.

"Professor, Malfoy was looking at Hermione and so we had to-"

"They started it, we were just asking Malfoy if-"

"This is our practice time, we booked the field ages ago-"

"Silence," said Professor Snape silkily. His eyes were gleaming with malice. "Last I checked, Mr. Weasley, looking at someone was not against Hogwarts rules."

Ron flushed. "Yes, sir, but - but"

It was obvious that he did not want to embarrass Hermione by telling the true version of events, for which Hermione was extremely grateful.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor," said Snape. "And," he said rounding, surprisingly, on the Slytherins, "you will let the Gryffindors practice as they are scheduled to do."

He strode away from the pitch, robes swirling.

Malfoy curled his lip but descended to the field. The other players from Slytherin followed his lead and within a half-minute, they were gone.

********************************************************************************************************************

Draco strode into the dungeons, feeling quite pleased with himself. He had gotten to see Potter and Weasley get kicked around, he had checked out Granger, and he hadn't even lost one point for Slytherin.

He was particularly proud of the second item on the list. Seeing the looks of anger on Potter and Weasley's faces had been priceless. And Granger didn't look half bad, either. Actually, he found her pretty attractive - truth be told. Her curves were decent, her eyes were innocently appealing, and she had a virginal prettiness about her that was quite refreshing.

Draco entered his room and lay on his four-poster, still thinking about what had happened on the Quidditch pitch.

He loved nothing more than to get the Gryffindors riled up, and it was easy enough. Pathetic fools, they wore their hearts on their sleeves. In fact, Weasley wore his on an incredibly short sleeve since the git apparently didn't have enough money to buy decent-fitting robes. Stupid Weasleys, he thought, it's a pity that they're pureblood--

There was a knock on Draco's door.

Draco scowled. He was seldom in the mood for company, and he definitely wasn't now.

"What is it?" he asked irritably.

"It's Pansy. Are you in there, Draco?"

Draco groaned. Pansy was clingy and slutty, and he didn't want to talk to her - now or ever.

"No, I'm not. Go away," he shouted.

"But Draco, I can hear you. I know you're in there..." she whined.

Draco knew he wouldn't be able to get rid of her so easily. "Come in, but make it quick.'

The door opened, and Pansy Parkinson entered. Her dark hair was pulled halfway off her shoulders and her make-up was, as usual, excessive.

"What happened outside?" she asked. "I heard people talking but I wanted to hear it from you..."

"Nothing happened," he snapped. "We got into a fight with the Gryffindors. Nothing new or interesting."

Pansy grinned. "Good for you, Draco. I bet you showed them who the best House in school is."

Draco sighed. The girl was intolerable. She was really and truly impossible to put up with. Draco couldn't imagine what he had been thinking to have ever slept with her. She certainly hadn't been his first, but he had been hers. And although she had to have slept with at least half of the boys in Slytherin, and although it had been ages since he and Pansy had shagged, she still followed him around like a faithful terrier. Quite annoying.

"Pansy," he told her, through gritted teeth. "I'm going to take a nap now, okay? I'll see you around..." Pansy stared at him sulkily. "...Later," he qualified.

"Okay," she said, batting her eyelashes. "See you later." She walked out of the room and shut the door carefully behind her.

Draco finally decided that he really would take a nap. Lord knows what he'd dream about.