Exitus Acta Probat

Chapter Four Memento Mori

Staircase Leading to the Dungeons

12:43 A.M.

Hermione was in a state of panic. She had no idea where the fabled Gryffindor bravery was, but she had a feeling hers had hung up a sign reading "out to lunch". After their discovery, the three of them (Blaise, Harry, and herself) were running like people possessed through Hogwarts' corridors, not caring who they awoke or how much trouble they were going to be in, intent on reaching the Slytherin dungeons. Hermione was getting winded trying to keep up, and was clutching a stitch in her side as Zabini bellowed at her to hurry. Harry, using his abnormal super speed, was out of sight.

"Potter!" Zabini yelled as they jumped down the stairs leading to potions two at a time. "You git, you don't even know where you're going! Get back here!"

Harry's voice echoed from somewhere ahead. "Yes, I do, Zabini you prat! What's the password?"

"What?" Zabini shouted. "How could you possibly know where -"

"We drugged Crabbe and Goyle second year, long story, don't ask!" Harry roared. "Now what is the bloody password?!"

Hermione chimed in, "Harry, you can't go in without--AHHHH!"

"Hermione!"

"Granger!" Blaise and Harry chorused.

"PEEVES!" Hermione shrieked furiously. "We don't have time for this, get out of my way!"

Peeves chuckled as he flipped through a series of somersaults. "Well, should of thought of that, Miss Know-it-all, before you went gallivanting about after hours!" He grinned and drew in a huge breath. "STUDENTS OUT OF BED! STUDENTS UP TO NO GOOD!"

Hermione ducked under him and sprinted towards Harry and Blaise, who were still a good one hundred feet away. "Good!" she hollered back to Peeves. "Good idea! Wake up the whole castle, call everyone down here!" Peeves stopped yelling abruptly, looking highly displeased that he hadn't managed to upset Hermione.

"Come ON, Hermione!" Harry yelled as she skidded to a stop next to them.

Blaise looked at the blank stone wall and said, "Fudge is a moron! Now open up, you motherfucker!"

Even in Hermione's extreme anxiety as they all leaped into the Slytherin common room, she managed to be shocked at Blaise's knowledge of a Muggle swearword. The common room was empty, but they could hear screams and thumps coming from both the corridors at the end of the room.

"Granger, you take the right to the girls' dormitories! Potter come with me to the left!" Blaise instructed.

Hermione dashed to the back of the room, heading towards the right doorway, her wand out and ready for action. She was a few feet away, and just starting to reach for the knob, when the door flew open and hit the wall with a bang like a gunshot. Hermione barely registered that a boy was flying at her until he, just as startled as she was, rammed into her and knocked them both to the ground in a pile of limbs. Hermione took a second to note that it was Theodore Nott crushing her, until a snarling Millicent Bulstrode (backed by seventh years Helen Waters and Edith Lodgeman, who in return were flanked by the entire female population of Slytherin) yanked him off of her.

"You- you- you weasel!" Millicent spat, apparently so angry she was unable to think of sufficient insults. "You traitor!" She was crouching over a prone Nott, and punching him in the face with each insult. The small, weedy Nott was dwarfed by Millicent's vast bulk, and Edith held his wand in her left hand.

The other Slytherin girls were pouncing upon him, delivering crippling blows while snarling and yelling and clawing like a pack of rabid wolves. Hermione lay sprawled on her rear, propped up on her hands, jaw agape, as Nott became increasingly bloodied. Hermione leaped up, wand in hand.

"Stop it! Calm down! Stop it! STOP!" she screamed in vain. In desperation, she twirled her wand over head, swooped it to the left, and bellowed, "STUPEFY!" at the top of her lungs.

When she cast the spell, a strange sensation flowed through her arm that held her wand. A huge burst of red sparks flew to the ceiling of the Slytherin dungeons (where Hermione had pointed her wand in her panic) and rained down like an exploding firework, effectively freezing the entire scene in front of her. It would've been funny at any other time, seeing her classmates frozen in poses of varying absurdity, but she was quite stunned at the effect her spell had. She had never seen the stunning spell work like this. Hermione shook her head once to clear her thoughts.

"What's going on here?" she demanded, hands on hips. "Well? Is anyone going to answer me?" It wasn't until Millicent shot her a contemptuous look that Hermione remembered she had immobilized all of them. "Oh. Er, sorry. I'll just-"

The boys' dormitory door blew off of its hinges, along with a mass of dust, a few stones from the wall, a lit torch, and three flying bodies.

Slytherin Dungeons: Third Year Boys Dormitory

12:25 A.M.

Barry Van de Houser lay awake on his back, on his four-poster bed located in the third year boys' dormitory. He could hear the steady breathing of his roommates around him, punctuated with the occasional snore or two. He was quite jealous and annoyed at all of them (including his twin brother Leonard) and their ability to escape insomnia. He had been having horrible nightmares for days, ever since the Slytherins had shown up dead on the front lawn. He vividly remembered the horror of that night, as he had stared, motionless for Merlin knows how long, at the faces of his housemates.

It was no secret that Barry and Leonard Van de Houser were not popular. Being Slytherins, they were predictably shunned by the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws. What was not so widely known, was the coldness of their own house towards them. Barry was under no illusions as to why his housemates detested him and his brother; they were half bloods. Their father, who had been a Slytherin himself, warned them about the jeers and insults they were likely to sustain. Barry could remember it now:

"Now boys, you'll be in Slytherin, as that has been where all the Van de Housers have gone, but you two are going to get a hard time. There are going to be people there who don't like you because your mum is a Muggle. Don't you listen to them. They're just jealous that they don't have mums half as good as yours. Don't ever be ashamed of who you are, and never deny your mother."

Barry and Leonard had done their best to follow his instructions; although Barry thought even their father couldn't have known how bad it would be. After all, his father was a pureblood. There were others in Slytherin who weren't purebloods of course, and there was even a grand total of seven Muggle-borns in his house. The problem was, out of desperation to escape being ostracized, quite a few half bloods or three-quarter-bloods denied their Muggle heritage, and acted as toadies to the purebloods. Of course, everyone was aware of the fact that they were part Muggle, and they still received snide remarks from their so-called "friends", but in general they were not tormented nearly as much as people like the Van de Housers. Not all purebloods were a bunch of prejudiced gits, but the ones who were made up for the others in spades.

Barry clearly remembered the incident in his first year. He had been hiding in his room from some of his tormentors, huddled in the corner. In his panic, he saw his door open, expecting his attackers, but to his immense shock, in walked a girl he had never talked to in his life. He didn't even know that girls could get in their dorms; he knew from Kyle Stebbins' experiments it was impossible for boys to go in the girls' dorms. The girl looked older than him, and was rather plain, with a washed out complexion, mousy hair, and a slightly crooked nose. However, her smiling brown eyes and dimples almost made her look pretty.

"Hello," the strange girl said, "are you the boy that Bole and Derrick were chasing?" Barry nodded, blue eyes wide. "Don't worry, I got rid of them. They might be sixth years, but they are as thick as they come." She smiled, and walked over to him, crouching down. "My name is Irene McDonough," she stated, "and who are you?"

"Barry," he croaked out hesitantly.

"Pleased to meet you, Barry," Irene said, holding out her hand, which Barry awkwardly shook. "Now, why were those overgrown, hairy gorillas chasing you?"

Barry hesitated. He liked this nice girl, but he knew as soon as he explained she would become just like the others. "I'm..." he faltered, ashamed. Then he remembered his mum, who had just sent him and Leonard homemade ginger biscuits the day before, straightened his shoulders and said loudly, "I'm a half-blood," looking the girl straight in the eye. He waited for her face to contort in disgust, and was shocked when she grinned wider.

"Me too. Is it your mum or dad?"

"My mum," he answered, relieved.

"Oh, it's my dad." Irene sat down on the floor next to him, leaning against the stone wall. "You know what someone told me once, Barry?" He shook his head, interested. "I was in my first year, just like you are now, and I was being teased by the girls in my year. Out of nowhere, this seventh year boy came over and told them to bugger off and patted me on the back. He was the seeker for Slytherin that year, a pureblood, named Terrence Higgs. I had quite the crush on him, although that doesn't leave this room," Barry grinned and nodded. "Well, he handed me a handkerchief, and said to me, 'Don't worry about those slags. I mean, you are in Slytherin too, aren't you? Don't you ever feel inferior to anyone. After all, they say the Dark Lord himself, and Harry Potter are both half-bloods.'"

"Really?" Barry asked Irene with childish excitement.

"Really," she beamed. "If anyone ever bothers you again Barry, just look for me. I know some pretty nasty hexes."

Barry sighed as a particularly loud snore from the direction of Kyle Stebbins' bed brought him back to the present. He remembered all those times he had wished, hoped, and prayed to whatever deities that were out there, that Draco Malfoy, Cade Warrington, Pansy Parkinson, Aidan Montaque, along with all of their cronies, would just disappear off the face of the Earth. Well, he had gotten his wish, hadn't he? Except the price was Irene McDonough, two girls in his year, and a number of his friends and housemates brutally slaughtered. To top it all off, he wasn't even happy with his tormentors' demises. Far from it. He might have hated them, but he never wanted them dead.

Every night he had at least five nightmares, one of which occurred without fail every time he slept. He'd be in the Great Hall sitting at Slytherin's table, and the door would open and Irene would walk in, blood dripping out of her mouth, and from the two holes in her body made by the stake.

"Look what you did to me Barry. All those times you hoped and dreamed... aren't you happy now?" she would say, and then she would laugh and laugh, a hysterical cackle, while blood spurted from her mouth and puddled all around her. Then she would point to the table, which had been filled with food a second before, that now held all the dead Slytherins that had ever plagued him. Except, they were still alive, being tortured by faceless figures in black robes. The whole time they all parroted Irene:

"Are you happy now Barry? Well, are you? Isn't this what you wanted?"

He'd wake up screaming, covered in sweat, with Leonard shaking him awake, the other nine boys in their dorm looking anxious behind him. So caught up in his misery was Barry, that he had failed to notice that his dormitory room had fallen completely silent some minutes before. A faint rustle to his left snapped him to attention. He sat up quietly, staring at his closed curtains on his left, head cocked to the side. There it was again, a little louder. Barry's heart sped up. Maybe he was being paranoid, but his instincts told him something was very, very wrong.

He grasped his wand, extremely grateful that he had taken to sleeping with it these past few days. He inched closer to the edge of his bed. Barry's blood ran cold when he heard a strangled, highly muffled scream from Kyle Stebbins' bed. Not thinking, his body on autopilot, he lunged out of his bed towards Kyle. He immediately noticed that every one of the beds in the room had their curtains flung open, and every single occupant of said beds were lying immobile and silent.

Barry saw this, but he was focused on Kyle's bed, where a shadowed figure stood over his friend, attempting to force-feed him a glowing blue liquid from a flask. The figure's attention snapped to Barry, who was ready.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Barry hissed, his spelling hitting his target. He was quite adept at spells useful in dueling, as were most Slytherins, and his talent didn't fail him now. The figure keeled over backwards, rigid as a board, onto the stone floor. Barry pounced on the prone figure, snapping their wand in half. "Malcolm!" he gasped, horrified. A faint moan distracted him.

"Barry..." Kyle croaked. "Barry..."

"Don't worry Kyle," Barry said reassuringly, "I'll get you out of this." He tugged on the ropes binding his friend, and then froze in shock as he took a good look at Kyle. He was covered in small, but deep cuts all over his body, blood oozing through his flannel pajamas. How in Merlin's name... Barry thought, puzzled. Then he spotted the flask. It was spilled on the sheets; Malcolm had succeeded at making Kyle swallow some of it. Some kind of Dark potion, it appeared. With a furious yank, he freed Kyle and tried to think if he knew any healing spells.

Kyle, whose skin had taken an unhealthy pallor, gasped though a bloody throat, "Barry... Leonard. Leonard!"

Barry's heart stopped, as he remembered that all the beds in the room had their curtains wide open.

"Idiot!" he hissed at himself, as he stumbled over to Leonard's bed in a panic. He clamped a hand to his mouth, a strangled, piteous moan escaping his throat.

His brother, whom he had always shared everything with, was undoubtedly dead. His eyes were wide open, his mouth in a grimace of pain or fear or both. The worst part was his skin. His entire body was covered in red, vicious looking burns. It was dark and cracking in some places, his pajamas melted away in patches.

As Barry stared at the one person whom he loved more than anyone, he slowly raised his head to look at his other roommates. Malcolm Baddock's bed was empty, as he was still immobile on the floor, and Graham Pritchard's bed was vacated as well. Oh, good, Barry though in his detachment, I guess Graham got away. Can't say the same for the rest of these unlucky bastards. He let loose a hysterical giggle. The six other Slytherin third years were all as dead as his brother. One of them looked like he bit it the same way his brother did, while two others were covered in more gruesome versions of Kyle's wounds. The other three were completely rigid, blue in the face and covered with frost and ice. All were bound in ropes. How sweet, Barry thought, becoming increasingly unhinged, Malcolm killed them all in trios, and he was saving the burning one for me, so I could die like Leonard. He laughed loudly. It all seemed rather hilarious, when he thought about it.

A scream rang out from the fourth year's room across the hall, where it sounded like all hell had broken loose. The door burst open, emitting a panic stricken, panting Graham Pritchard, who immediately locked the door behind himself.

"Malcolm! We have to go! Where's-" he stopped, as he saw an enraged Barry lunging at him.

Barry knocked the wand out of Graham's hand, and proceeded to beat the shit out of him, Muggle style. He grabbed Graham's curly blonde hair that the girls loved so much, yanked his head up, then slammed it as hard as he could onto the stone floor. Graham yelped, as Barry maniacally repeated his actions. So caught up was he in bloodying sodding Graham's sodding hair that only a sodding poof would have, he failed to notice the bangs and yells in the corridor.

"Where is he?"

"I'll kill the little bastard!"

"Did you check the third year's dorm?"

"It's fucking locked!"

"Fuck!"

"Dammit!"

"Does anyone have a crowbar?"

"What the bloody hell is a crowbar?!"

"It's- oy, shut up you ponce, and get something heavy!"

Barry was sobbing, as he continued to slam the skull of the barely conscious Graham into the ground. "Bastard! You'll rot in hell, you pureblood scum! I'll piss on your grave! I'll-"

He was cut off as a pair of hands wrapped around his throat from behind him.

"Forgot about me?" Malcolm snarled in his ear. "Should've killed me when you had the chance, filthy half-blood!"

Barry clawed at his throat, struggling mightily to overthrow Malcolm's grasp on him. He gasped for air, his lungs begging for it, as he faintly noticed Malcolm seemed to be taunting him. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't breathe! Mummy! Daddy! He cried in his head. I'm sorry! I'm sorry! And as Barry made his last, weakened effort to pry those vice-like hands off his throat, he thought, huh. So this is dying. At least I'll see Leonard again. And Irene! Irene will take care of us in heaven...

Ravenclaw Tower: Common Room

12:42 A.M.

Morag MacDougal put her quill down with a sigh, and leaned back on the blue velvet couch. She was finishing her essays for Snape and Professor Podmore (who had taken over for McGonagall) early. While she was no Hermione Granger, Morag was the top student from Ravenclaw in her sixth year. The difference between the two was that Granger worked hard for her grades, while Morag was naturally intelligent with a tendency to procrastinate. Her mind at the moment was far away from schoolwork. She was in fact, contemplating the question of would Seamus Finnigan ever notice her?

Morag pulled her legs up to her chin, and looked around the deserted common room, with it's blue and bronze colors sadly. She really had no girl friends at all, because she was a tomboyish sort of girl, and not quite compatible with her roommates. Su Li was all right, if not dull, but Mandy Brocklehurst and Padma Patil drove her bonkers. Always incessantly giggling, with nothing better to say then how cute certain boys were, what so-and-so was wearing, and the newest hair care charms. It was a mystery how the two of them were made Ravenclaws in the first place. Lisa Turpin was her last roommate, and Morag detested her. They had been enemies ever since the first day of first year.

So she had no one to lament her love problems to. Oh, she tried talking to Terry Boot and Stephen Cornfoot, who were her best mates, but as they were boys, they were no help at all. Morag was sick of being "one of the guys," a girl who was not even considered a girl, by the boys in her year. She hade been made a Chaser for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team this year, and had been thrilled when finding out Seamus was made a new Chaser for Gryffindor. Now, she figured, they had something to talk about.

Unfortunately, Seamus had the ability to turn her into a stuttering, tongue-tied mess, which Michael Corner and Anthony Goldstein delighted in pointing out to her. A scowl crossed her face. She would talk to Seamus Finnigan if it was the last thing she ever did! After all, what was she so afraid of? There were worse things than being rejected by the guy you had been lusting after since third year, she reasoned, (although she couldn't think of any at the moment.) Morag pulled her Potions essay towards her and started moodily sketching "Mrs. Morag Finnigan" on it over and over. A blood-curdling scream shattered her concentration.

Hufflepuff Girls Corridor

12:32 A.M.

Eloise Midgen stealthily crept down the yellow and black corridor from the seventh year girls' dormitory. She paused at the door to the sixth year girls' room, then continued onwards. She held no grudge against any of the sixth years; they had been kind to her, unlike the majority of students attending Hogwarts. Eloise ran a hand over her spot-free face with a smirk. Yes, they didn't tease her anymore, since she had lost weight, charmed her hair a bright blonde, and successfully rid herself of acne. A lot of people had not even recognized her at first. It had been shocking when the first boy asked her out, but as the weeks passed by, she was used to the sudden male attention.

No, they didn't tease her anymore, but Eloise didn't forget. She was a nice, shy, sweet girl when she arrived at Hogwarts, but no longer. Years of taunting cries about her appearance, had finally unhinged her. Years of binging and purging, of crying alone at night, had hardened her beyond recognition. Everyone still thought of Eloise as the quiet, sweet girl she had always been, but they were gravely mistaken.

Cracking the door that opened into the common room, she peered out cautiously. Unconsciously rubbing her left arm, Eloise swung the door fully open silently, and strode briskly over to the boys' door. Eloise hadn't been a bad person, but things happen when people are mistreated. Just ask Tom Riddle. Eloise noiselessly skulked through the door, her wand out.

She grinned to herself in the darkness of the corridor leading to the boys' rooms, thinking of the past twenty minutes. The way Heather Donahue and Missy Chambers had cried, and mutely begged her for mercy. How the other seventh year girls had died, silently screaming in agony. Who's the ugly one now? Eloise thought triumphantly. On her way from her room, she had taken out three of the fifth year girls, without waking anyone else in the room. Sixth other girls were eliminated, out of the fourth, third, second, and first years. Only the sixth year girls, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Megan Jones, Sally-Anne Perks and Daphne Greengrass were unscathed. Eloise was twisted and vengeful, of that there was no doubt, but some sense of decency remained. She didn't want to kill anyone who didn't earn it by being hateful to her. She had hidden her lingering sense of morality well in the company of the Dark Lord and the Lestranges; they would have been far from pleased. The orders for her and the other spies at Hogwarts had been to take out as many of their classmates as possible, by testing out the new Dark potions created by the Dark Lord himself.

Eloise reached the seventh year boys dorm, and stealthily slunk inside.

"Silencio," she whispered at each bed, and then twirled her wand in a complicated swirl, effectively binding all the boys in ropes. She walked to the first bed on her right, and pulled back the curtains. Tim Summerby, the Seeker for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, looked up at her with terrified eyes.

"Eloise?" he mouthed in shock.

She frowned, fingering a flask in her pocket. Tim didn't deserve to be punished. She leaned over and kissed him on each cheek, then closed the yellow satin drapes surrounding his bed. She went to the next, and beamed frighteningly at whom she discovered. Brad Dunstan. She stroked his hair gently.

"Perhaps," she whispered to him, "you should think twice about who you torment." Eloise remembered all too clearly how Brad, who she had fancied for years, had asked her to the Yule Ball held two years ago. She had turned up, nervous but glowing with happiness, to discover him snogging Missy Chambers on the dance floor.

Brad struggled, horrified, as Eloise pulled out a glowing green liquid filled flask. "Open up," she murmured. Predictably, he resisted, so she clamped a hand to his nose, pinching his nostrils shut. "Can't hold your breath forever, Brad," she crooned. He turned a magnificent shade of purple before he gave in and gasped for breath. Eloise poured in the liquid, moving her hand to cover his mouth, forcing him to swallow. She continued to smile as he twitched, then started silently screaming as his skin began to burn and blister. Eloise watched happily until he was dead. Then she moved on.

Slytherin Dungeons: Common Room

12:46 A.M.

Harry raced towards the back left corner of the Slytherin common room, dodging leather couches and green and silver tables, Blaise half a step behind him. He was in his action zone, and he knew what he had to do.

Ron should be with me, he suddenly thought, apropos of nothing. But, at least I have Zabini, the git. He and the git simultaneously yanked the door leading to the boys' dormitory open, both holding their wands in front of them. They were greeted with pandemonium.

It appeared to Harry, that the entire male population of Slytherin was conducting a Muggle mosh pit, minus the band. There was screaming and shoving, and the whole corridor was packed.

"Zabini!" Harry yelled over the deafening din. "What the bloody hell is this?"

"I don't know, you're the Golden Boy, do something Potter!"

Harry did the first thing that came to mind as he and Zabini struggled through the crowd to get where the confusion was focused. He pointed his wand at his throat.

"Sonurus! FREEZE!" Harry's magnified voice bellowed over the crowd. He felt absurdly like a Muggle policemen, all he needed was a badge and a gun. "NOW. WILL SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU ARE ALL DOING?" he added, at Zabini's urgings, "AND WHERE'S NOTT?"

"What the fuck is Potter doing here?!" exclaimed a flabbergasted seventh year.

Zabini shoved Harry aside and snatched his wand, pointing it as his own throat. "I LET HIM IN. WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS! NOW WHERE'S NOTT?"

"Who the bloody hell cares?" yelped a fifth year.

"Yeah!" chimed in a fourth year. "We have to get that little bastard Pritchard!"

"But the door won't open!" bellowed a different seventh year.

"Oh for the love of-" Harry grumbled. He yanked his wand back from Zabini and plowed through the crowd to where the seventh year was, undoing the magnifying spell as he went. He flicked his wand at the door. "Alohomora!"

"For Merlin's sake, Potter!" burst out Zabini, who had followed him there. "I cannot BELIEVE you think Slytherins are that stupid! You can't open our doors with 'Alohomora!'" he yelled, incensed.

Potter looked at him with an infuriatingly superior expression on his face. "Yes it will. If we all do it together," he gestured vaguely around them.

Blaise sighed, disgusted that a Gryffindor had outwitted him. "Alright, you heard Golden Boy! 'Alohomora' on three! One! Two! Three!"

Unfortunately for Zabini, Harry never had been, and never will be, the brains behind the trio; a fact which became glaringly obvious when the eighty or so opening spells blasted at the door, right in their direction. The door flung open violently, as Harry, Blaise, and the seventh year that had been standing next to them were catapulted through the air, while every door to each dormitory blasted open, including the one leading to the common room.

"Well," commented Harry as he, Zabini, and the seventh year lied in the pile of rubble, with all of the female Slytherins plus Hermione staring at them; "at least it worked."

Zabini glared.

Hufflepuff Sixth Year Boys Dormitory

12:34 A.M.

Justin Fintch-Fletchley sat up in his four-poster bed. He could've sworn he had just heard a noise outside in the corridor. He slid off of his bed, pushing through his curtains. He padded over to the bed opposite him.

"Ernie," he whispered roughly, shaking his friend. "Ernie," he said louder. He heaved a sigh, and resorted to the only way guaranteed to wake up Ernie when he was in a deep slumber; jumping on top of him, while shaking his shoulders. Ernie sprang up with a shriek.

"Justin!" he hissed. "What in Merlin's name are you doing?"

Justin was about to answer when the curtains around Ernie's bed were yanked open, revealing a staring, slacked-jawed trio of Theseus Moon, Wayne Hopkins, and Sam Capper. Everyone remained frozen in place, Justin sitting on top of Ernie, his hands clenching the collar of Ernie's pajamas, Ernie's hands on Justin from when he had tried to push him away, and the three other Hufflepuff sixth year boys staring in shock. Finally Theseus Moon broke the silence.

"So..." he said slowly, "do I even want to know?"

"No," Sam Capper answered, just as slowly, while they all continued to stare at Ernie and Justin, " we really, really, don't want to know. We didn't see anything."

"Figment of our imagination," Theseus agreed.

"We had too much butterbeer," Sam added.

"Hallucinating," Theseus declared.

"Just a dream," Sam said, still staring as if Ernie and Justin had sprouted horns.

Wayne, who had remained silent, suddenly burst out, "Holy Hippogriffs! I knew it! Ernie and Justin are a bunch of poofs!"

"What do you mean, 'you knew it?'" Justin asked indignantly.

"Bloody Nancy-boys!" Theseus yelped.

: "Couple of fairies!" Sam shrieked.

"Now wait just a minute!" Ernie interjected.

"I can't believe you wankers!" Wayne hollered. "How long have you two been secretly shagging while we were in here?!"

"Yeah!" Sam yelled. "Did you cast silencing charms, so we couldn't hear you all those times you were- and now I'm going to be sick," he groaned.

Justin was enraged. "So what if Ernie and I are poofs?" he demanded.

"Justin!" Ernie shrieked in horror.

"Well?" Justin spat out, ignoring Ernie's splutters. "What's wrong with being gay? So what if Ernie and I are shagging?!" he bellowed.

"What- what-" Ernie choked out incoherently, while looking around wildly.

"Is there something wrong with our love?" Justin ranted on.

"Er, uh, no, not at all," Sam stammered.

"Yeah, we're all right with it, mate, " Theseus added, embarrassed, "it's none of our business what you two do, we were just surprised, that's all."

"Hold on!" Wayne roared. "We were not surprised! Everyone knows Ernie and Justin are shagging!"

"WHAT?!" Ernie bellowed, horrified.

"Yes, well..." Sam said, "we'll leave you alone to um, yeah." He and Theseus grabbed Wayne and closed Ernie's curtains. Ernie turned to Justin, his face a frightening shade of red.

"JUSTIN! WE ARE NOT SHAGGING!" he screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Now don't be like that, Ernie!" Sam yelled from his bed. "Withholding sex isn't part of a healthy relationship!"

"Well, maybe Justin did something bad!" Theseus chimed in from his own bed.

"Justin!" Wayne said from his bed in the corner, scandalized. "You better apologize to Ernie right now! Buy him some candy from Honeydukes or something."
"Oh, I can't stand it when they fight," Sam sighed.

"JUSTIN!" Ernie said, still bellowing. "GET OFF!"

"Did you hear that?" Wayne said excitedly. "They made up!"

"Yeah, they're shagging again!" Theseus yelped jubilantly.

Ernie screamed in frustration, and tore out a chunk of his hair.

"Whoa, someone's having fun!" Sam exclaimed.

Ernie shoved Justin off and leapt out of his bed. "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? ARE YOU ALL A BUNCH OF HOMOS?!"

"Honestly," Justin scoffed, emerging from the other side of Ernie's bed, "you guys really need to get laid."

They looked highly offended. All five of them burst out at the same time:

"I do NOT need to get laid!"

"I have no problem getting sex!"

"What are you trying to say?"

"I am NOT a poof! Is everyone clear on that?"

"I was just pointing out how repressed you all are-"

Their bickering was interrupted when the door flew open, emitting a bloody, panting Zacharias Smith, and a wild-eyed Eloise Midgen.

Gryffindor Tower: Sixth Year Girls Dormitory

12:50 A.M.

Desdemona Macnamara, or Dez, as her friends knew her, was currently in the middle of a bizarre dream. Madam Pomfrey was hosting a dance competition for the Professors in the Great Hall. They were all doing their best to win, as they sashayed, swayed, and wriggled on top of the staff table, which had been made into a makeshift dance floor. The students were screaming in crowds below the Professors, cheering and clapping.

Snape was dressed in hula clothing, and shaking his bony hips vigorously. Professor Flitwick was dressed as a cowboy, complete with wranglers, boots, chaps, cowboy hat, and gigantic belt buckle. He was flawlessly performing a line dance. A scantily clad Madam Pince danced the tango with an also scantily clad Filch, who had a rose clenched in his teeth. Oliver Wood was slow dancing with his broom, while an annoyed Viktor Krum repeatedly tried to cut in. Professor Trelawney was belly dancing next to a can-canning Firenze. Parvati and Lavender were going wild next to her in the screaming crowd, and Lavender fell into a swoon after Firenze winked at her. Mrs. Longbottom, who had taken over teaching Ancient Runes, was wearing a hoop skirt and waltzing with a strangely dressed House Elf. Sturgis Podmore had stripped down to a hot pink thong (almost causing a riot among the crazed, hormonal girls) and was receiving galleons stuffed into his scrap of clothing.

Madam Pomfrey kept yelling disturbing things like, "Take it off, baby! Yeah, shake it for me!" and "Who's your daddy?"

Hagrid appeared to be getting down with the Funky Chicken, while Professor Lupin reenacted the disco days of the seventies in his platforms and bell-bottoms.

Just as Snape's grass skirt began to slide off of his skeletal body due to his frenzied hip-thrusts, Dez awoke with a start. She was quite horrified at her subconscious, and wondered if it was possible to pour bleach on one's brain to rid oneself of disturbing visuals. It was not, however, the terror of seeing a naked Snape that had roused her from slumber, but the fact that she was currently strapped to her bed with a length of rope, and couldn't make a sound.

Dez's dark eyes widened in fear as she looked to her right, at Lavender Brown's bed. A figure cloaked in black, hood up, was attempting to do- something to her roommate. Lavender was fruitlessly struggling, her mouth open in a silent scream.

Most people in Dez's position would be beyond terrified, but Dez was not put in Gryffindor for nothing. She inched to her left, the ropes cutting deeper into her skin, trying to ignore Lavender and the mysterious attacker and concentrate on the task at hand. She strained another inch towards her nightstand, craned her neck as far as it would go to the side, and clenched her teeth around the end of her wand. Lavender seemed to be putting up a good fight, and Dez desperately rooted her on in silence. Her bindings were now so tight she could barely breathe. With a slight gasp for air, she moved her neck in a good imitation of a wand twirl, and mouthed through her clenched teeth, "Finite Incantatum." Her bonds snapped, and her voice was restored. Dez lunged out of her bed, wand in hand, towards Lavender, whom had been freed of her restraints as well, and was now wrestling with her attacker.

"Dez!" shrieked a voice across the room that Dez recognized as Tracey Davis. "Get out of here! Get help!"

Dez wavered for a moment, then at Lavender's strangled scream of "Go!" turned and sprinted out of the room, while Lavender's wrestling partner let loose a string of curse words and hexes.

She yanked open the door and barreled up the stairs one flight to the seventh years dorm. She burst inside, yelling for the Head Girl Vicky Frobisher and Quidditch Captain Katie Bell.

"Vicky! Katie! Help me! We're being attacked, come on!" Without so much as a glance behind her, or an answer to their sleepy questions, Dez raced back down the stairs to her own room, slamming the door open violently. Everything froze, as Dez took in the scene before her.

Lavender was lying dead on her bed in a gigantic pool of blood, her body twisted at an impossible angle. Tracey was next to Lavender's bed on the floor, and had obviously been trying to help Lavender, when she was killed herself, her skull smashed open. One question popped into Dez's head sharply; where was the mysterious attacker? The answer became crystal clear when Dez was hit in the back by a curse, after hearing a muttered incantation.

She dropped to her knees; her body felt like it was trying to turn itself inside out. She clutched her stomach in agony, starting to heave up a substance that couldn't be anything except blood.

"Dez, Dez, Dez," a voice sighed in mock regret behind her, "how stupid it was of you to run for help. Especially to the seventh years dorm." Footsteps closed in behind her, as Dez continued to heave up her own blood while clawing at her skin. "They can't help you. Haven't you noticed no one ran to your rescue? A friend of mine is taking care of those pathetic Mudbloods, half-bloods, and Muggle lovers."

Dez, who was now prone on the floor, dizzy and weak, looked up at the person who had murdered her friends, and was doing their damndest to kill her as well.

"Parvati?" she croaked in shock.

"Surprised, aren't you?" Parvati taunted smugly. "Who would ever suspect that dim-witted, giggling simpleton, Parvati Patil, to be a Death Eater?" she smirked and leaned close to Dez, whispering in her ear, "You should never underestimate people, Desdemona." Then she swept from the room, leaving Dez in a pile of her own blood.

Dez was too weak to move at all, and as she heard a sudden explosion of yells from all around her, she knew they would be too late to save her.

Slytherin Dungeons: Common Room

12:48 A.M.

Hermione froze in shock as she stared at Zabini, Harry, and a seventh year she was pretty sure was called Byron Something-or-Other laying in a pile of rubble. Harry had said something she couldn't hear, and Blaise glared an "If-looks-could-kill-you-would-be-pushing-up-daises-right-now-Potter" look at him. Harry looked over at her in surprise, and Byron What's-His-Face did a double take.

"For the love of Merlin!" he yelped in exasperation. "What the FUCK is Granger doing here?!"

He was cut off by the triumphant yells coming from the boys' corridor. A gaggle of Slytherins burst into the common room, holding up a motionless figure with bloody blonde hair. They paused in mid-step, as they saw the bizarre scene before them. The Slytherin girls were still frozen in place, along with Nott, who was obviously getting the crap kicked out of him. Hermione was pointing her wand at said group, and Harry, Blaise, and Byron Blankety-Blank remained on their arses in their pile of rubble.

"For fuck's sake," a bewildered Slytherin boy said, "what the bloody hell is Granger doing here?" Hermione blushed to the roots of her unruly hair when a good eighty or so Slytherin boys stared at her.

"I can't believe it!" a disgusted Harry said. "There is a mass murderer running loose in your dorms, killing your housemates, and all you can say is 'What's Hermione doing here?!' Why don't we start with, 'Why are you carrying that half dead third year?' Then move on to-"

Blaise cut off Harry's sure-to-be-long rant. "There's Nott! I barely recognized him, what with the blood covering him and all."

Harry glared.

Ravenclaw Tower: Common Room

12:45 A.M.

Morag was on her feet, heart pounding wildly at the first scream. She hurdled over two ottomans and a side table, and then paused in indecision. There was screaming coming from both doors; which way should she go? She had just made up her mind and turned towards the boys' door, when a loud series of thumps followed by a girl sprawling into the common room through the girls' door distracted her.

If Morag had reacted like a Ravenclaw, things would've turned out very different. As it was, she unearthed a hidden sense of Gryffindor stupidity and recklessness she was not aware she had, and tackled the girl, pinning her to the floor. It wouldn't be unfair to say Morag had attacked someone who had obviously just fallen down a flight of stairs, only because she recognized the girl as her enemy; none other than that bitch Lisa Turpin. Morag (who was a Muggle-born) had forgotten all about wands and magic. Lisa struggled, then brought her knee up sharply, driving it into Morag's stomach.

Morag fell on her side with an "Oof!" of surprise.

She could clearly hear the girls yelling, now that the door was open, though she couldn't decipher their words. Lisa snarled, and pulled out her wand. As she did this, her left sleeve rode up her arm, and Morag caught a glimpse of a grinning skull. Lisa opened her mouth to yell a curse, and Morag quickly grabbed her wand arm and twisted it the opposite angle it was supposed to go. A loud snap rang out, Lisa screamed in agony, than recovered with a sneer, punching Morag hard in the face. With a grunt of pain, Morag lunged up at Lisa, and the two went rolling around the common room floor, scratching and biting and kicking and clawing.

A herd of Ravenclaw girls clambered down the stairwell, shoving into the common room, wands at the ready. The girl at the front of the crowd, who Morag recognized as an irate Padma Patil, cried

"Expelliarmus!" She caught two wands in her free hand, but failed in separating the snarling brawl on the floor. More girls were pouring in the room, and boys started bursting through their door as well. Morag felt hands tugging at her, trying to pry her apart from Lisa, but she ignored them, like she ignored the yelling voices.

"Impedimeta!" a male voice called, and Morag and Lisa flew apart violently. Immediately, ten people were on Lisa, tying her up, and snapping her wand. Padma Patil leveled her wand at the glaring, struggling Lisa.

"I'll give you one chance to answer this, Turpin," she said in a low, deadly voice, "then I will proceed right past interrogation and straight into torture." Lisa's sneer suggested she would like nothing better than to spit in Padma's face. "Now," Padma continued, "who else is in on this?" Lisa looked less than forthcoming. Morag was still sitting on the floor, panting hard and confused as hell.

"You better do what she says," Michael Corner interjected, "or you get the same as him." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder at a crowd of boys who were carrying something.

Lisa gasped in horror, her eyes widening. Morag craned her neck to see what everyone was staring at.

A group of boys were supporting a clearly dead fifth year, Derek Rogers. Morag felt her jaw drop in horrified shock. What was even more terrifying was the fact that every single Ravenclaw (sans Lisa and herself) had a look of grim satisfaction on their face.

Morag found her voice, "Either I've gone insane, or the rest of you are looking giddy about a dead body," she said shakily. Everyone turned to Morag, and the crowd of girls parted as someone made their way through.

"He's a murderer," a disturbingly lucid Luna Lovegood spat, " as is this maggot," she nudged Lisa with her toe. "We'll explain it later, this is more important." Luna pointed her own wand into Lisa's face. "Now answer Padma's question," she said calmly.

Lisa, who was pale and shaking, darted a glance at Derek's stiff body. "Nott," she squeaked, "him and Eloise Midgen are the ringleaders."

"Who else?" Padma demanded angrily, shooting a few sparks out of her wand in her fury.

"Um..." a clearly petrified Lisa said, "uh... Derek Rogers."

"Well no shit!" Morag burst out sarcastically.

"Shut up, Morag," Padma snapped. "Who else, Turpin? Hurry up!" she bellowed, shooting Lisa with a stream of boiling water.

Lisa screamed, then began babbling. "Malcolm Baddock! Graham Pritchard! Parvati Patil!"

Padma turned white. "Parvati?" she croaked. Lisa nodded vigorously. Parvati turned her ghostly face to Michael Corner, who seemed to be the unofficial leader of the boys. "Stay here with Turpin. I'm going to help." She turned to the girls, "Morag. Luna. Come with me."

"No way!" Michael yelled in outrage. "I'm coming too!"

At least a dozen other voices spoke up angrily, "So am I!"

"Me too!"

"You aren't going without me!"

"Fine!" Padma snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously. "You can come. But the rest of you stay here and make sure Turpin doesn't escape."

A gaggle of heads nodded their assent, as a determined Padma swept out the portrait hole, her guard behind her.

Third Floor Corridor

12:57 A.M.

Argus Filch sat up groggily, his throbbing head in his hands. He was apparently hung over, despite the fact that he remembered drinking only harmless pumpkin juice at dinner. He groaned when he heard a meow next to him. He looked over at Mrs. Norris, and did a swift double take. She was lying on the ground, half asleep beside him. They were in the third floor corridor, underneath a flickering wall mounted torch. Filch looked in puzzlement at his surroundings.

"Something is wrong, my sweet," he murmured to his feline companion. "The last thing I remember is patrolling these halls, looking for those snot-nosed little brats, and here we are now." Filch gazed in wonder. He wasn't the brightest crayon in the box, but Filch was no fool, either. There was something seriously amiss at Hogwarts, and he'd be damned if he knew what it was.

"Filch, you mangy devil!" a voice cackled from behind him.

He leaped up, instantly recognizing that annoying voice. "PEEVES!" he roared. "I should've known! The Headmaster will finally have you out of here for this!"

Peeves rolled his eyes and blew a raspberry at him. "I'm hurt, Filch. Here I am, going out of my way to do a good deed, and I get accused of treason," He lounged on his side in midair, grinning. "Which is pretty rich coming from you, seeing as how I found you asleep on the job."

Filch made various rude hand gestures and spewed forth descriptive threats of revenge.

Peeves sighed in mock annoyance. "Now, now, Filchy-wilchy, let me tell you my message. I think you might be interested to know, that it seems as if there's going to be a ruckus in the Slytherin dungeons around...now."

Filch narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Trouble in the dungeons? Is that right?" he said skeptically.

"Yes," Peeves nonchalantly stated, flicking an invisible speck of dust off of his arm, "I ran into Granger and Potter, with that weird Slytherin, Zucchini, and you know wherever those two are, trouble follows."

A gleam of joy alighted in Filch's eyes. "Potter and Granger, eh?" he said with relish.

"Yes," Peeves yawned, "oh, and I think they really might be in danger, too." At that, Peeves floated away chuckling to himself.

Contrary to popular belief (and really, who could blame them?) Filch did not jump for joy at the thought of impending student death. Oh sure, he hated the little sniveling bastards, and he was always up for a good spot of torture, but he didn't want any of the brats dead. Just in pain, really. So it was with real panic in his heart that Filch sprinted off towards the nearest shortcut to the dungeons, a swaying Mrs. Norris at his heels.

Gryffindor Tower: Seventh Year Girls Dormitory

12:49 A.M.

Katie Bell drew her lit wand closer to her with a sigh. She had had a brilliant idea for new Quidditch moves while dreaming. Jerking awake, she had grabbed the closest sheet of parchment, a quill, and her wand to write it all down before she forgot her epiphany. Her forehead was creased in concentration, while her hand flew across the parchment, her teeth gnawing on her lip.

They would need a small miracle to win the Quidditch Cup this year, Katie thought glumly. Of course, they still had Harry, but he couldn't win the cup all by himself. The Gryffindor team had been hit hard, not only with the graduation of its two star chasers, but also with the death of Ron Weasley, their keeper, and Ginny Weasley's disappearance. Not to mention the horror of learning their former Captain and teammate, Angelina Johnson, had been murdered. This left Harry (who was superb) as Seeker, herself (who was now considered Hogwarts' best) as Chaser, and Sloper and Kirke (who were pathetic) as Beaters.

Katie had called for open tryouts the month before, and it still made her nauseous to think about it. The only positive was the large turnout, which was negated by the fact that they all sucked. Well, to be fair, Katie thought, they hadn't all sucked, there were a few with potential. Seamus Finnigan had been her one good find, he was the new number two Chaser. Katie had begged Vicky Frobisher to play Keeper, but Vicky was Head Girl this year, and Katie was out of luck. She had grudgingly made that annoying whiner, Geoffrey Hooper, the new Keeper. What he had in talent he undermined by his constant complaining. She had been two seconds away from murdering him at their last practice. Third year Natalie McDonald was made Chaser number three, mainly because all of those trying out for the spot were equally horrific, and Katie didn't want to be the only girl on the team.

So, Katie was not looking forward to their first match against Slytherin. Surprisingly, Hufflepuff would be their biggest competition this year. Seeker Tim Summerby, Chaser Zacharias Smith, and Summers, their Keeper, were all returning this year. Rumor had it that Captain Summerby had found a pair of third year girls, Eleanor Branstone and Laura Madley, who were supposedly Beaters on par with the infamous Weasley twins.

Slytherin was quite obviously going to be flattened by everyone, since the massacre had left only one player, Beater Crabbe, on the team. There had been some, who had urged Headmaster Lupin to ban Quidditch this year, on account of all the death and mayhem. Lupin had firmly disagreed, and was strongly backed, (oddly enough) by Professor Snape. There had also been a huge outcry of anger from the students when hearing that Quidditch might be disbanded.

Katie heard running in the stairwell, followed by the dormitory door flying open unexpectedly. She jumped at the sudden noise, her heart pounding, and yanked back her bed curtains. Desdemona Macnamara, a sixth year, was bug-eyed and frantic in the doorway of her room.

"Vicky! Katie! Help me! We're being attacked, come on!" Dez shrieked hysterically. Then without so much as a word of explanation, wheeled around and disappeared back down the stairwell.

Katie sat open mouthed, staring at the now vacated doorway, and listening to the sleepy grumblings of her roommates. She turned back to her bed, and snatched her lit wand from her pillow.

"Nox," she muttered, leaping out of her bed, (located furthest from the door) wand in hand. Carina Zimmerman was ahead of her, also holding her wand, and reached the open door first, closing it behind her. "What the bloody hell are you doing?" Katie snapped at Carina.

"I overslept," Carina said in an annoyed voice, as if that explained anything. Katie heard feet pattering behind her.

"What was that all about?" Vicky Frobisher yawned in back of her.

"Was that a sixth year?" Razada Strauss said hoarsely next to Vicky.

Katie looked at a blank faced Carina. Something was seriously wrong with this picture.

"It was nothing," Carina said smoothly, "go back to sleep."

Katie's eyes narrowed into slits. "It was not nothing, Carina, now move out of my way!"

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Katie," Carina replied, in an unconvincing tone of regret. Katie opened her mouth to snap something nasty when Carina raised her wand in a flash, and said evenly, "Crucio."

Katie was dimly aware that someone was screaming, and that there were flashes of lights streaking over her head where she had fallen.

Oh God oh God oh God this hurts so BAD burning burning I'm burning and bleeding and breaking my skin is melting off my organs are collapsing God it hurts it HURTS

Suddenly the curse was over, leaving her panting on the floor, her limbs in agony, her head throbbing, a ringing in her ears. She lifted her aching head, and saw that both Vicky and Razada were dead. Her other two roommates were furiously dueling with Carina, and seemed to be losing. While she watched, one was blasted off of her feet, her head smacking the stone wall with a sickening crunch, and fell unconscious, leaving one defender.

Katie shoved a limp Vicky off of her legs, ignoring her friend's blank stare while fighting the rising bile in her throat. Her brain had apparently been scrambled along with her body, and only one spell came into her mind. She closed her eyes and saw Oliver Wood declaring his love for her that he had been secretly harboring for years.

"Expecto Patronum!" she yelled at the top of her sore lungs. A Gryffindor lion burst out of her wand in a blast of blinding silvery white, and leaped onto Carina Zimmerman, pinning her to the floor.

Katie was shocked beyond belief. She had no idea what had possessed her to recall her fantasy of Oliver and cast the Patronus charm, but it had worked. "Stupefy!" she yelled, pointing her wand at Carina. Carina froze in place, and Katie's lion disappeared. Lynn Darson-Hughes gazed at her in awe.

"Katie... you... wow," she breathed.

Katie jumped up with a grimace of pain. "Come on, Lynn, let's go help Dez," she barked out, and ran out of the door to rescue the sixth year, Lynn on her tail.

Hufflepuff Sixth Year Boys Dormitory

12:45 A.M.

Justin gaped stupidly at Eloise Midgen, and a barely conscious, crawling Zacharias Smith.

"Expelliarmus!" Eloise bellowed, her wand pointed at the five sixth year boys.

"Protego!" Justin and Ernie yelled in unison. The other three boys, Wayne, Theseus, and Sam, had not been in the D.A. the previous year, and were all effectively disarmed by Eloise, who had clearly gone insane. Justin and Ernie gave each other a half glance and stepped forward side by side, blocking their unarmed roommates from view. They both had their wands pointed at Eloise's heart.

"Eloise," Ernie said, impressively calm, despite the fact that he had been ripping his own hair out not two minutes before, "care to explain yourself?"

"Not really," Eloise said casually. She was pointing all four wands at them.

"Oh. Well..." Ernie looked at Justin for support.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Justin yelped.

"Protego," Eloise replied, effortlessly deflecting his hex.

"Tarantellegra!" Ernie yelled, losing his head completely.

Eloise simply stepped to the right. "Imperius," she intoned softly.

Justin lunged to his left, banging his knee on the floor, barely avoiding the curse whizzing past him. Ernie, it appeared, had flung himself at the nearest bed, and was swinging from the canopy like a monkey, his feet dangling off of the ground. As panicked as he was, Justin was tempted to laugh at the goofy picture his friend made, till he noticed Sam Capper had not been as lucky as the rest of them. He was standing dreamily in the middle of the room, his eyes blank, sporting a blissful, small smile.

Eloise pulled a silver dagger from her pocket, and tossed it to Sam, who caught it one-handed. A growing sense of horror had enveloped Justin in the fifteen seconds since he had fallen to the floor. Eloise stalked forward, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on Sam. As Justin clutched his wand, and prepared to cast a spell, Sam's dagger glinted brightly as he spun to his left, plunging it into Wayne Hopkins' heart.

Ernie, Justin, and Theseus reacted at the same time. Theseus and Ernie both frantically stumbled over to Sam and Wayne, who had a look of immense shock on his face. A trickle of blood escaped his mouth, his shirt reddening rapidly. Justin, meanwhile, had done the smart thing, and attacked Eloise. He tackled her to the floor, further injuring his scraped knee. She turned her wand on him and shouted

"Crucio!"

Justin was blasted off of his feet, and writhed on the ground, screaming in agony. Sam pulled the eight-inch dagger from Wayne's heart, and drew back his arm to plunge it into him again. Theseus grabbed his raised arm, and Ernie attempted to knock the dagger out of Sam's hand. Sam punched Ernie in the face with his free hand, breaking his nose with a resounding crack, while Eloise lifted the curse from Justin and laughed. Justin lay panting, his body throbbing in agony, as he heard Eloise scream the curse again. Theseus and Sam wrestled on the ground, Ernie, blood pouring thickly from his nose, attempting to help. Wayne mouthed soundlessly, a bubble of blood bursting from the side of his lips, and collapsed into a bloody heap.

Eloise stared at a screaming Justin triumphantly, wand trained on his writhing form. Out of nowhere, a leg kicked her in the back of her knees, and she went down hard. Zacharias Smith had summoned the last of his energy to deal the blow, saving Justin from imminent insanity or death. Justin sat up slowly, his body loudly protesting his moving, as Eloise, shrieking with rage, turned on Zacharias. Justin grasped his fallen wand, slipping around in his sweaty hand.

Across the room, Sam hit Ernie hard, knocking him out of the way, then pinned Theseus beneath him, and brought up the dagger. Theseus' eyes widened in horror, as Justin and Eloise both swung their wands and cast their spells. Zacharias screamed when hit with Crucio, as Sam simultaneously thrust the bloody dagger into Theseus' heart. Justin's spell hit Eloise dead on, flinging her off of her feet, and into the stone wall headfirst. She lay in a pile of rubble on the floor, unconscious.

Justin dimly noticed that Ernie and Theseus were both screaming. Sam's eerily blank face changed, as he gasped in terrified shock when glimpsing the dagger protruding from his friend's chest. Grasping the handle, he yanked the dagger out, and then pulled off his pajama top, holding it against Theseus in a desperate attempt to staunch the blood flow. Justin ran over to help when he realized Zacharias was either dead or unconscious.

"Zacharias," he pled unevenly, shaking the seventh year. "Wake up, Zacharias," he begged. Zacharias looked dead, his face chalky white, his body twisted and blood covered. Ernie was hysterically trying to rouse an already dead Wayne.

"Theseus," Sam whispered, his voice cracking, "I'm sorry Theseus, I'm so sorry," he sobbed brokenly, tears streaming down his face.

"Justin! Behind you!" Ernie suddenly bellowed.

Justin's world tilted crazily as he was tossed away from Zacharias onto his back. Eloise Midgen stood over him, a large knot swelling on her scalp, blood running into her eyes from a large gash on her forehead. She pointed her wand at Justin's heart, and bared her teeth in a snarl of rage.

"Avada-" she started, when interrupted by the door flying forward off of its hinges, onto the floor. There stood a group of furious Hufflepuffs, armed and running forward into the room. Eloise immediately plunged her hand in her pocket, and promptly disappeared into thin air.

Susan Bones and Daphne Greengrass hauled a stunned Justin upright, as the rest of his saviors streamed in his dorm to help the injured sixth years.

Slytherin Dungeons: Third Year Boys Dormitory

12:52 A.M.

Hermione's stomach was performing a series of impressive acrobatic flips. She was currently in the third year boys' room, next to Zabini and Harry. Zabini looked to be in a state of shock, and Harry was so pale his lips had even lost color. They had already inspected the fourth years' room, along with a group of Slytherin boys. Byron Thingamajig was rapidly explaining what had happened before the three of them had shown up.

Graham Pritchard had snuck into the fourth years' dorm, successfully murdering seven of its occupants before the six remaining fourth years caught him. Graham had raced back to his own dorm, and locked the door. Here Byron Whosit faltered. A seventh year named Chris Jones picked up the exposition.

"While you three," he gestured at Byron So-and-So, Blaise and Harry, "were flying out to the common room, we were storming in here to catch that son-of-a-bitch Pritchard." A few Slytherins nodded their agreement with Chris. "We found him almost dead on the floor, his head covered in blood." His brisk manner wavered. "One of the Van de Houser twins, not sure which," Chris pointed to the boy laying facedown on the floor, "apparently was the one who turned him into a bloody pulp."

"Who killed Van de Houser?" Blaise demanded.

Chris looked intensely annoyed. "How the bloody hell are we supposed to know?" he snapped.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Obviously," she broke in with a condescending tone, "someone else was in here, and stopped him from killing Pritchard by strangling him. See the wand?" she pointed over to the snapped wand by Kyle Stebbins' bed. "That's not Pritchard's, you said you found his wand on him, and Van de Houser's is right next to him."

Hermione's speculating was interrupted by a low moan from one of the beds. A gaggle of Slytherins rushed over to the bed the noise came from.

"Stebbins is still alive!" a fifth year yelped.

In the mass pandemonium that ensued, what with the hollers for bandages and for anyone who knew healing spells, coupled with the running and shoving, Hermione glanced at Harry. He visibly pulled himself together from his former stupor, and took charge.

"What the blazes are we doing?! We're sitting here, doing nothing, while the rest of the school is probably under attack! They have it under control!" he bellowed, gesturing at the frantic Slytherins. A few of them had paused staring in bafflement at Harry. "Come on!" Harry hollered to her, which was quite unnecessary, as Hermione was standing right next to him. He turned on his heel and sprinted out of the room. Hermione took a half second to recover from shock then raced after him.

They flew down the corridor, into the common room, passing the pile of rubble, and across to the entryway.

"Granger!" a voice suggested from behind them. Shouldn't you fix the girls before you go?"

Hermione and Harry looked back and saw, to their complete surprise, Zabini, flanked by at least twenty boys, right behind them. There was a brief moment of unspoken communication and agreement between the two of them and the Slytherins. They all knew Gryffindors and Slytherins didn't mix, no matter what, but none of them cared about the old rules and prejudices anymore. All of them had suffered, and they were in this together: Mudbloods, mixed bloods, and purebloods.

Hermione felt herself turn red again when she realized she had never unfrozen the stupefied girls. "Finite Incantatum!" she yelled, pointing her wand at the back of the room. Instantly, Nott was slammed with five or six punches and a few swift kicks, including one to a delicate area, delivered by Millicent Bulstrode. The boys winced simultaneously.

The group by the exit turned back around as Harry jumped through the entryway, followed by Hermione and Blaise. They were all sprinting, high on adrenaline, through the dungeon corridors, when Harry rammed into someone and fell over like a limp dishrag.

"Vince!" Zabini yelled in shock.

Crabbe was standing in the middle of the corridor, a stupid look of guilt on his face. His arms were loaded with pastries, which he attempted to hide behind his back.

"Uh-uh-uh- Blaise!" he stammered, eyes darting around wildly. "It's not what you think! Really, I don't have any idea where the kitchens are, honest! I was, uh..."

"Crabbe!" Harry roared while scrambling to his feet, "We could not possibly care any less about your midnight gorging! Either move out of the way, or come with us!" With that, Harry took off running again. A stunned Crabbe was jerked into movement when Zabini grabbed his arm and dragged him along. While they raced up the first flight of stairs, Hermione heard Zabini remark,

"Only you, Vince, would miss a gigantic bloodbath because you were eating éclairs!"

Harry yelped in pain up ahead as he again barreled into someone and fell down a few stairs.

"Harry!" Hermione shrieked while dashing over to help her friend up.

"Filch?!" exclaimed Byron Whatchamacallit loudly, "Oh, now this is too much!"

Hermione thought she had never been so glad to see the nasty old maniacal caretaker in her life. Harry repeated his line about moving or helping, and shoved past Filch up the stairwell. They were all flabbergasted when Filch wheeled around and tore after Harry, yelling,

"Follow me, Potter! I know this castle better than you do!"

"Fine!" Harry's voice echoed from up ahead. "We're going to Gryffindor tower!"

The herd of Slytherins, along with two Gryffindors, one caretaker, and a tipsy cat, burst through the door into the entrance hall of Hogwarts. Filch made a sharp turn away from the marble staircase and ran towards a faded tapestry. He yanked it aside and disappeared, followed by the rescue party.