Korean Conflict

Had Snape been grading papers or cleaning up his classroom instead of sitting legs-up armchair-sunken in his office listening to Leann Rhimes' newest CD, he might have heard the scuffling going on in the hallway.

So this is what he didn't hear:

He didn't hear Hermione struggling against her captor, or the squeal that escaped from beneath the hand that was clamped over her mouth. He didn't hear what followed, which was the yell when Hermione bit her captor's hand and the swish, oof, thunk as she elbowed, flipped, and body slammed.

"Oh my God!" was the next thing Snape didn't hear, and "Fred! Are you alright? I'm so sorry!"

"That's twice in one day," the redhead said. "And I'm George, not Fred. I thought you'd be able to tell the difference by now."

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," was all she found she could say. When she had taken martial arts over the summer she had never expected to actually use them, especially on George Weasley. She felt doubly guilty because she didn't really feel bad that she had hurt him, just that she was feeling so pleased at having such quick reflexes.

"That's alright," said George, who was wondering what he had done wrong. He always greeted people by jumping them from behind. "Um, would you mind getting off me? Your fro's tickling my nose."

"Eeep!" said Hermione, and jumped up.

George got to his feet a little more slowly and winced at the pain in his stomach. That was going to bruise.

"You've got quick reflexes," said George, and noticed the wickedly pleased grin that crossed Hermione's face, which was promptly smashed out by a polite smile.

"Thank you," she said.

"I'm just confused as to why I've been the subject of your flipping and stomping today."

Hermione looked angry again. "Well what would YOU have done if someone roughly grabbed you in a dark hallway, the dungeons no less!"

"Um, kiss them?" George said without thinking.

"Excuse me?" Hermione sputtered.

"Um...What?" George found that in situations like these it was best to act confused, as people were more likely to assume you were stupid and forget it than continue.

"Um, never mind," she said. "And besides, this morning you were about to ask about my fro. That's very rude, I'll have you know!"

"I wasn't."

"What?"

"Going to ask about your hair. I actually find fros quite fetching, and you look good with one, so don't worry."

"Um, thanks. I think. But hey! What were you going to ask, then? You said 'What happened to your-'"

"Cat."

"What?"

"Your cat. Crookshanks. He hasn't been around lately."

"My cat," repeated Hermione incredulously. "Well, I think he's a bit nomadic. He's always come and gone like that. Being trapped in my room would be horrible."

"Oh," said George. Hermione looked cutely puzzled and George blushed and wanted to run away. "Well, I just wanted to figure out what it was that made you upset. So, I'll be going now."

"Um, George?" said Hermione.

"Yeah?"

"We're both going to the Gryffindor Commons."

"Yes."

"So it stands to reason that we'll be walking the same way."

"Ah," said George, as realization dawned. He offered his arm. "Well, then, m'lady. Would you care to join me?"

"I'd be delighted," said Hermione.

This is what Snape didn't hear, and if he had known what he hadn't heard he would have been glad that he hadn't. (Take that, illogic.)

- - - - -

It was at the same time that George was accosting Hermione outside the Potions classroom that Harry found the note.

It was small and innocent looking, just a piece of parchment that was half-burned, from some instantevidenceremoving charm no doubt. It looked suspicious, so Harry brought it over to one of the squishy red couches that littered the common room, where he had been sitting with his best friend Ron, his best enemy Draco, and the most confusing student at Hogwarts, Blaise Zabini. Harry was confused because he did not know if Blaise was a boy or a girl, and things like this always made Harry uncomfortable.

Harry plopped down on the couch between Draco and Blaise, not caring that there would barely have been room for someone half his size, because, after Dean Thomas, Draco and Blaise were the sexiest students at Hogwarts.

"What do you suppose it is?" asked Blaise, in a disconcertingly pretty half-boy half-girl voice.

"I don't know..." said Harry. He brought it close to his glasses and pretended not to notice that Draco had begun to play with the fingers on his left hand.

"All I can make out is: 'Attention: Colonel Margaret'" At this Harry got a funny look on his face, but continued. "'Meet at the usual-' and it's cut off. Then it's signed 'Tom Ri-' but that's all I can make out."

"Tom Riddle," Ron breathed, and his freckles shifted almost unnoticeably. "Could it really be from You-Know-Who?"

The other three took a moment to get past the shock of not really seeing someone's freckles move, then Draco murmured: "Blazing Zabini, it could be."

"What?" asked Blaise.

"Sorry," said Draco. "But who's Margaret?"

"Crookshanks," said Harry.

"What?" asked Ron. "Hermione's cat?"

"Yeah. His real name's Margaret."

"Um, and how do you know this?" asked Draco.

"He told me," said Harry matter-of-factly, "and besides, he's been gone since yesterday. I saw him leave with some bottle of fabric dewrinkler around his neck last night."

"Weird," said Blaise.

"It makes sense," Ron said, smacking his fist down decisively like he always did, but this time on Draco's leg.

"Ouch," said Draco.

"Shhh," said Harry. "He's thinking. Very rare."

"I have it. You-Know-Who is using animals to infiltrate Hogwarts. Like Pettigrew, but this time with Hermione's cat."

"You may be right," said Blaise.

"I know I'm right. And what's worse, think of all the secrets he's probably been leaking to You-Know-Who since Hermione got him. Oh GODS!"

"Ron," said Harry, patting him on the back, which was awkward as he had to reach over Draco to do it, but nice at the same time (and he felt bad about noticing this, as he was in the middle of comforting his best friend). "Ron, don't worry. We haven't any secrets."

"We must," said Ron. He suddenly looked confused. "I was sure we had."

"Sadly not," said Harry. He shook his head. "Or maybe they're so secret we don't even know them."

"That would be a shame indeed," said Draco, shaking his head as well. He'd added this comment to feel out the situation, because he wasn't sure any longer if they were being serious or not. It was bothering him.

"But," said Blaise. "Doesn't all this seem a bit far-fetched? I mean, come on...a cat? Voldemort?"

"If you'd seen half the things Ron and I have-" Harry began, then blushed when Draco shot him a knowing grin. "Not like that. I mean, you wouldn't believe some of the things that go on in Hogwarts. Like in 1st year, when Professor Quirrel attacked me or in 2nd year with the giant snake and..."

Blaise and Draco were positively leering now. Harry put his head in his hands.

"What he means to say," said Ron. "Is Crookshanks being a spy would not be such a rare occurance."

"But-" said Blaise, and they all began shouting.

This is how George and Hermione found them, all four boys squished together on the couch arguing. Ron looked scared and angry, Harry looked puzzled, Blaise vaguely worried, and Draco calmly amused, with his hand entangled with Harry's.

If Ron hadn't been so caught up in the discussion, he would have told his brother to stop macking on Hermione, but in his state he didn't even notice their entrance.

"What's going on?" Hermione said loudly, after standing for a moment trying to figure it out for herself.

All four stopped talking, as did Neville who was on the other side of the room trying to woo Ginny Weasley with stories of his bravery in the face of Professor Snape. Ginny was smiling politely and nodding, all the while thinking about her meeting with Colin Creevey the night before, and how they had talked for hours about Harry then made out and wondered if it was wrong.

"Fred!" Ron cried, now that he noticed. "Stop macking on my best friend!"

"Ron!" said Hermione, and blushed prettily. "This is George, not Fred, and he's not 'macking' on me. He just walked me back from detention.

"Sure," said Draco. Hermione raised a finely plucked eyebrow.

"Draco Malfoy," she said. "Just because you're macking on everyone, doesn't mean George is."

"Hm. Point taken."

"Hey," said George. "I can often be found macking, I'll have you know. Just not at the moment."

"What," said Hermione, pointing to the burntish parchment Harry was holding. "Is that?!"

"It's a note to your cat from Voldemort!" said Ron. "He's been leaking information all along!"

"What," she said again, in a very flat voice that made the 'what' really mean 'You're so dumb, please don't tell me you believe that.' She knew by the expression on his face, though, that he did.

"And why, exactly, would Crookshanks have anything to do with Voldemort?"

"We're still working on that," said Draco. "But when we figure that out we'll owl you."

"Look!" said Harry. He tried to get up to give her the note, but couldn't as he was still wedged (comfortably) between Draco and Blaise. Instead Hermione came and took it from him.

"Crookshanks' alias is Margaret," Blaise explained. "He told Harry."

"Right," said Hermione. She looked up from the note and squinted at them one by one. "You really do believe this."

"I'm still not quite convinced," said Draco. "But it seems like a cool idea."

"Hm. You realize this 'Tom Ri-' could be someone else. It doesn't have to be Tom Riddle."

"But it is," said Ron.

"Right," Hermione said again. She looked back to George to see what he thought, but remembered that George did not even know who Tom Riddle was.

"They'll explain it to you," she said, waving to Ron and Harry. "And I'm going to go to bed."

"But," said George. Hermione turned back expectantly. "But what about the macking?"

He received a pillow to the face, and that was that.

- - - - -

Colonel Margaret had been in the shrieking shack all day. Now he sat on the windowsill, the moonlight filtering softly through the mud-caked glass. He looked around the room. All thirty-four of his brothers and sisters, fellow wizarding pets who made up this elite section of the British Armed Forces, had arrived. They were now curled or perched around the large room, what had used to be the library he assumed. They had held the meeting late in the afternoon, and now everyone knew the plan. So much waiting, but soon it would be worth it.

- - - - -

It was barely an hour after Hermione had gone to bed that she was rudely awakened.

"What the fuck?" she cried, and her fro emitted blue sparks in the darkness.

A muffled "Lumos" and then "Hey! It's me!"

"GAR!" said Hermione. It was George Weasley, a truly eerie thing to see in a dark room. "You do realize that its late and I was sleeping and that you're in the 5th year girls dormitory?!"

"Oh come on, its not as if I've interrupted anything important," said George, as he sat on the edge of Hermione's bed. "Oof," he said, as she kicked him off. "Four times," he said, as he rubbed his abused bum.

"What?" Hermione asked. She was clutching the blanket to her chest, looking positively violated. This amused Geroge to no end, as she was much the opposite. If anything he was the one who should be looking so put out.

"Four times you've cold bloodedly tried to injure some beautiful part of my body. My foot, my stomach, my face, my bum. They're all very important to me, you know."

"You'll be fine," she said. "And your feet? Beautiful?"

"I happen to have very pretty feet."

"Right." Then: "Hey! You're trying to change the subject!"

"But, you're the one who-"

"What are you doing here so late? That's breaking about 50 school rules."

"Only two, actually. And it's not late, it's only half ten. Everyone but you is still out snogging."

"You're not off snogging," Hermione pointed out.

"Yeah," said George. "That's because I've got something more important to do."

"Like waking up innocent girls and accusing them of random acts of violence? What a good excuse. Now please, explain."

"Fred is off snogging," George said, as if it explained everything.

"And?"

"So are Angelina and Alicia."

"Um...yeah. And?"

"So are-"

"Yes, now that you've made me feel utterly left out, what does this have to do with me?"

"You're not snogging anyone."

"I GET THE POINT!"

"So we have to go to Snape's office."

"Ew, I really don't know how me not snogging anyone and Snape's office are related at all. Please don't tell me."

"Ok, I won't," said George. "So, are you coming or not?"

"Turn around."

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm still in my nightclothes! Honestly. You boys!"

"No you're not, I can see the top of your robes over the covers, and your tie, which is askew by the way."

"Oh." Hermione lifted the covers to see for herself. "You're right. That's odd. I guess I forgot to change out of them."

She got out of bed and tugged her robes straight.

"Aha!" she said brightly, a little happier now that she'd gotten over the initial anger at being woken up. She stuck her left leg out and wiggled it about in front of George's face. "It seems I forgot to take off my shoes as well."

"My poor bum," George mumbled again and got to his feet. He was a head taller than Hermione, which always surprised him, as it didn't seem that a person so tall-seeming in intelligence and personality could be so short.

"You're short," he said.

"Thank you for being the billionth person to point that out," she said, and struggled to knot her tie.

"Here," said George. He found himself really wanting to kiss her but settled for doing her tie up correctly.

"Thanks," Hermione said. "I never could get it quite right."

"Well," George said, and turned to the door. "What are we waiting for?"

- - - - -

to be continued (AGAIN!!!). . .