Twenty-Four Hours

Twenty-Four Hours

Chapter Thirteen

By Michelle Malfoy

Life's like this, you -

And you fall

And you crawl

And you break

And you take

What you get

And you turn it into

Honesty you promised me I'm never gonna find you fake it

Now, now, now

~Complicated by Avril Lavigne

"Harry," soothed Hermione, "please calm down. It's not safe for you to be like this - " she dodged as a cinder block flew out of nowhere and nearly hit her - "when even parcelny can't soothe you." As a very frilly dress robe soared out of somewhere and flew out the window, a shriek came from the girls' Gryffindorms. "Harry!" Hermione shouted in frustration. That was Lavender's best dress robe!" Harry didn't seem to care.

"I - don't - care!" Harry yelled.

"You need to care, Harry," Ginny screamed. "If you don't, you're going to destroy the whole school!"

"I - don't - care!" Harry repeated.

"He was my brother, Harry," Ginny pointed out, "and I'm not destroying the school about it." Something made of glass flew out of nowhere and hit Harry hard in the chest.

Michelle ran over to him and knelt on the ground, tending to his wound. "Clensus," she murmured, and the blood that was flowing from Harry's stomach faded away. After a few more well-chosen incantations, Harry seemed to look good as new. "Now," Michelle murmured very, very softly, "calm down."

Harry did. Ginny and Hermione gaped at Michelle as if she had just sprouted a Mimblus Mimbletonia from her ears.

"Why are you so upset?"

"Because Ron is... d-d-dead."

"Yes, he is," Michelle admitted. "Harry, have you ever heard of the Revivus Necromance spell?" Harry shook his head, and out of the corner of her eye Michelle could see Hermione itching with the need to inform him of what it did. Michelle beat her to it. "It allows one to hear the last things that a dead person would ever say to them. Would you like to try it on Wea-- on Ron?" Harry nodded, feeling extraordinarily like a child as he did so.

Michelle turned to Ginny, who retrieved Ron's body from where it lay in Ron's old favorite armchair. She handed it to Michelle. "Okay, Harry," Michelle said softly, "you need to say this: 'Revivus Necromance Ronald Weasley!' Just remember that although he can talk to you, you can't talk to him. Okay? Go."

"Revivus Necromance Ronald Weasley!"

Slowly, a dark figure began to emerge in the air. It looked just like how Cedric, Harry's parents, Bertha Jorkins, and Frank Bryce had when Harry and Voldemort had had a Priori Incantatum effect on their wands, only it was Ron's shadow, not Cedric's or Lily's or James'...

"Harry?" 'Ron' asked in disbelief. "Oh, Lord, hang on - no, I'm talking to Harry Potter, not you, you... shadowy thing - I can't believe this. I bet this is some new spell Hermione thought of, right? Well, I'd better make this melodramatic, if it can only be cast once. Hang on - SHUT UP, MRS. BLACK - okay, great. I have a little speech I have to read from." Sure enough, Ron was holding a piece of parchment. "Harry, you were the best friend - the only real friend I ever had." Hermione snorted. "I mean, sure, Hermione was nice and all, but you were the first person I knew who liked me for who I was, not just my brothers.

"One second - UNCLE BILIUS, I'M TRYING TO TALK HERE! YOU CAN KEEP YOUR LITTLE SELF-MISERY TO YOURSELF, PLEASE, I COULDN'T CARE LESS. OH, AND THE GRIM ISN'T AN OMEN OF DEATH, ACCORDING TO HERMIONE. SHE SAYS IT'S THE CAUSE OF DEATH, FYI. Okay, Harry, I'm back. Anyway, I'm never going to forget how you fought the troll with me, back in first year, and how you were always beating Malfoy in everything. Whatever happens between you and Malfoy - and Mini-Malfoy - now, I won't get to see it. I'm pretty sure that at the end of it all, you'll wind up being friends with at least one of them."

"Too true," muttered Ginny, who was still a bit angry over the fact that Michelle could cool Harry down while she and Hermione could not.

"Anyway, when Hermione told me what happened after that giant chess match in first year, at first I was angry. Then she told me that there wasn't enough potion to carry me along anyway, so I needn't worry about it. Since then, I guess, I've thought of you as an angel, really - the world's guardian angel."

Michelle, Hermione, and Ginny snorted loudly. Harry hissed at them to shut up so he could listen to Ron.

"I bet you'd like it here, when it's time for you to come. Sirius is here, and - " he sniffled a bit - "so are your parents. They're really nice, and they said that all you need to do in order to cast the Revivus Necromance spell and talk to them again is just one thing that each of them have touched. If you took two of your strands of hair, that should do it, as long as you really concentrate on which of your parents you want to see and say their name clearly. Wait one second - Yes, Mrs. Potter, I am telling Harry - OW! You don't need to hit me! OW!!!!!!! Mr. Potter, please - thank you. Harry, it's not so bad, death. Guess who else I found here - Dumbledore. I don't know if you knew he was dead, or whether or not it's sunk in yet, but I just thought you should know.

"Harry," Ron continued, "I guess what I have to say is that whenever our paths cross again - and I'm sure they will, in future lives, we just won't know it - I'm always going to be your best friend. And I think about you all the time - I know I only died about an hour ago, but time works oddly here. Mrs. Burkhard, that dratted Dylan's mum, is here. Apparantly Dylan killed her, and her husband too. It's not all that pleasant to think about, to be perfectly honest. Well, Harry, you're my best friend and always will be. Goodbye."

Ron faded away into the shadows, leaving Harry in a much better state than he had been before he had seen Ron.

* * *

"Michelle," Hermione hissed, "that was Dark Magic! You can't go around doing necromancy on everything you see, it's insane! I know how much he needed it, but he's going to want to see everyone again - his parents, Sirius, Cedric, maybe even Quirrel! You taught him necromancy, Michelle, do you not realize how serious that is?"

"I know," Michelle sighed, "but he really needed it. Hermione - I love him. I really do, don't you understand? I love him so much I wanted to put myself in the way of the Cruciatus Curse when that Death Eater sent it at him. Please, let me make him happy."

"Michelle," Hermione sighed, "he's seventeen. You're ten."

"No, I'm not," Michelle grinned. She screwed up her face the same way Tonks would when transforming, and she grew about a foot, and appeared to be unmistakably seventeen years old. Hermione gaped at her, and Michelle grinned apologetically. "My fa - Lucius wanted me to have my education a few years after Draco did, so we could both have a chance to be Seeker. It's kind of ridiculous, I know, but he didn't want us to always be compared to each other. We're not twins, you know, just born eleven months apart." She smiled. "You may have heard that Draco and I were both born on Halloween, or some other rumor like that. It's not true - I was born in January, and Draco on the first of December. And whatever you heard about my being part Faerie was a lie. All the professors know that I'm actually seventeen, not ten, so that's why Severus announced that my parcelny developed today. They developed a while ago, as you probably can tell. Oh, and I'll be eighteen on January thirteenth.

"I'm seventeen, not ten," Michelle repeated, "and my parcelny allowed me to appear ten. I'm not a metamorphomagus, or part Faerie, that's just what I told Gemma. That way, I knew, she would pass the rumor around. And I would've thought that Harry'd know I'm not ten, because I'm not that great of a Keeper." She grinned.

"Oh my god," gasped Ginny, entering the Common Room. "Who... the hell... is that?" She pointed to Michelle.

"I'll explain if you get Harry down here," Michelle groaned.

* * *

"So... you're seventeen?" Harry confirmed. Michelle nodded. "That's really, really great, Michelle."

"Oh? And why is that?" she asked, although she had a feeling what he was going to say.

"Because," Harry breathed, "I can do this." He leaned in very closely to Michelle and kissed her hard on the lips. Michelle was shocked for a moment, but then she indulged herself in the kiss, kissing Harry back fiercely and passionately, letting her tongue roam his mouth the way his did in her mouth.

"I've never done that before," Michelle admitted, "since I had to pretend I was ten. I don't think even Draco knows that I'm seventeen - he doesn't have the greatest memory when it comes to little things."

"Michelle," Ginny said calmly, "this is a very big thing." Michelle shrugged.

"I have homework," Ginny declared, just as Hermione said the very same thing. They quickly raced off to the library just as Harry and Michelle began to kiss again.

"I didn't know you loved me," Harry whispered.

"That's funny," Michelle breathed back, "because I didn't think you loved me."

She relaxed in Harry's arms, not moving from that position for a long time.

* * *

Lavender was devastated. "Ron's... dead?" she asked in horror.

"Yeah," Parvati and Hermione replied in unison.

"I saw it happen," Parvati announced, a bit too proudly.

"I did too," Hermione snapped, "and I'm not bragging about it. Why do you care?" she asked Lavender suspiciously.

"Haven't you known?" asked Parvati. "She's fancied him since first year!"

"But... the Yule Ball..."

"Seamus begged me," Lavender announced very proudly. "He said that if I said no, he would ask Lizzie Skeeter (who was a second-year at the time). And we can't have a Gryffindor dating that - that thing."

"Lizzie Skeeter? That Ravenclaw who started the school paper?" The two gossipy girls nodded. "Even I have to admit, she is a bit... well, horrible. She's going out with Colin now, right?"

"Yes," Parvati sniffed. "I pity him."

"So," Hermione said, dipping her quill into the ink and Charming it so that none of the ink would spill while she was asleep. "Did you hear about Mini-Malfoy?" For once in her life, she was talking like a gossipper. It felt rather refreshing.

"No..." the girls said at the same time. Parvati whipped out a quill and parchment, ready to take notes so she would be able to spread the news the next day.

"She's seventeen," Hermione explained. She didn't know why, but she felt an urge to get Michelle into trouble, to warn Harry that she wasn't worth his time. The girls looked at her blankly, and Hermione sighed. "If I tell you, will you tip off Lizzie? I need her to get it into the school paper." Lavender and Parvati nodded, a sort of hunger in their eyes.

"PLEASE TELL!" Lavender begged, her lavender eyes alight with anxiety.

Hermione sighed again and launched the story.

* * *

"Professor Varossa?" Michelle asked the Head of Gryffindor. "Listen, you know how I've been studying on a seventh-year level?"

"Yes," Christiana Varossa replied, unsure of what was coming.

"Can I move into the seventh-years' dorm?"

"Michelle," Christiana pointed out, "Blay Zabini [A/N: Yes, I wrote 'Blay' on purpose] is there. You detest Blay Zabini."

"True," Michelle said. "That's why I want to move into the Gryffindor seventh-years' dorms."

"How touching," Christiana drawled. "Yes, I suppose you may." She decided not to ask why Michelle wanted to sacrifice her reputation. "As you probably know, due to Severus's death, I am the Deputy Headmistress, and Miss Chang, who arrived about an hour ago, is the new Transfiguration professor."

"Yes..." Michelle prompted her.

"Well, as Professor Flitwick found that an opportunity to quit, she is also the Head of Ravenclaw. And I am the Head of Gryffindor, and Susan - Professor Sprout to you - is the Head of Hufflepuff." Michelle still didn't get it. "That leaves you without a Head of Slytherin," Christiana said. "Any ideas?"

"Well, we need a Potions and a Charms professor, don't we?" Michelle asked. Christiana nodded.

"Fleur Delacour is excellent in Charms. She's my cousin, and she graduated three years ago. I'm sure she'd like to be a Charms professor. And... er... I'm sure you remember that Weasley the Weasleys disowned because she was Sorted into Slytherin? Just a year before Percy?"

"Yes..."

"Her husband... Tristian Cladwine, you know... could be the Head of Slytherin and teach Potions."

"Thanks, Michelle," Christiana said. "I'll take those two into consideration. Oh, and one more thing. Herashio! Your stuff is now in the seventh-year Gryffindorm." She smiled. "Gryffindorm... what a name."

"Thanks, Professor." Michelle smiled and walked out, fully appreciating her new 'look.' Several boys spun around to gape at her as she walked past, but she payed them no attention. It was nearly midnight, after all. She decided to go to sleep.

* * *

"Draco!" His father's voice rang out through the room. Draco looked up and was surprised to find himself chained to a wall, his hair dirt-streaked and tearstains on his clothes.

"Yes, Father?" he asked lazily.

"Excuse me? You are not to use that tone of voice with me," Lucius ordered. "Try it again."

"Yes, Father?" Draco asked, this time with a hint of amusement in his voice.

"You find this funny?" Lucius asked disbelievingly. "And I suppose you'll find this funny too... Crucio!" And Draco felt the pain of the Cruciatus Curse and the utmost hatred for his father welled up inside... he wanted nothing more than to murder his father... slowly, to cause more pain. But, of course, he could not do that while chained to a wall.

"Yes, actually," Draco admitted. "I think I do."

"Stop being defiant," Lucius commanded. "Or I shall have to inflict punishment upon... her." He pointed his wand at Michelle, chained to the wall on the other side of the room.

"Yes, Father," Draco agreed quickly. His voice carried no trace of laziness, amusement, or any other emotion that Draco showed frequently.

"Now," Lucius said, pleased to have Draco under his control. "Turn your wand on Potter. Murder him. NOW." Draco stared at his father, but he wasn't really seeing him, not really. He was looking through Lucius rather than actually seeing him. His eyes were fixed on Michelle, who would face punishment if he did not obey. Michelle shook her head frantically, her mouth forming the words 'Don't do it!'

"What are you doing?" Lucius demanded. "I believe I asked you to perform Avada Kedavra on Potter. Do so. Now."

Draco whimpered softly as his father shoved his wand into his hand. "It's your choice," Lucius stated quietly. "You may either murder Potter or let me murder your beloved sister."

"Does she mean that little to you?" Draco asked, horrified.

"I have an heir right here," Lucius pointed out, placing a hand on Draco's shoulder. "There will be no difference in anything regardless of whether she lives or dies."

"A father is supposed to love his children!" Draco was screaming now, begging his father to understand, to pity, to see his mistake. But that was not the kind of person Lucius was.

"Crucio!" Lucius hissed for the second time that day. But this time, the wand was directed, not at Draco, but at Michelle.

"Please, Father, no!" Draco screamed, writhing to escape his bonds as he heard Michelle's screams piercing the atmosphere. "Father, please!"

Lucius ignored his son's desperate pleas, and continued casting the Cruciatus Curse on his daughter. Draco began to scream louder than he thought possible; his shouts were echoing through the castle and he heard glass shatter.

"Kill him," Lucius murmured in Draco's ear. "Kill him or I will kill her."

And Draco refused.

"Avada Kedavra," Lucius murmured.

And Michelle died.

* * *

Harry screamed. "Harry!?!?!?!?!?" moaned Seamus. "Jeez, how's a guy supposed to get any sleep around here, huh?" Apparantly, Seamus was not happy with Harry's screaming.

"Go get Michelle," Harry ordered. "Now! Go to her Gryffindorm and get her. NOW!!"

"Uh, dude," Dean said, "you're losing it. Michelle is a Slytherin. We don't know how to get into her dorms, nor do we much care."

"She's a Gryffindor now," Harry mumbled. "Go!!"

They were about to go when a gorgeous blonde seventeen-year-old girl walked in. Dean's and Seamus's jaws dropped. "Who... the hell... is that?" they demanded in unison. Neville, who was still sleeping, snored loudly. Harry ignored Dean and Seamus.

"Harry," Michelle croaked, "did you dream it too?" Harry nodded. "With Draco... oh, Harry, I'm so scared."

"Don't be," Harry soothed her. Michelle grinned and walked over to him. Harry lifted her into his bed, to Dean's and Seamus's protests and taunts.

"What about Christopher?" Harry asked in a whisper.

"Who cares about him?" Michelle murmured.

And Harry smiled. "Good question," he said.

* * *

A piercing scream awoke the entire castle. Professor Varossa, who had been explaining things to Professors Chang, Cladwine, and Delacour, instantly jumped up. "Is this some kind of test?" Tristian asked skeptically.

"No," Varossa panted, just as confused as he. "Come on... Chang, you know the way to the Ravenclaw dorms? Go and make sure everything is fine. Go down to the common room - password's 'Winestein' - and call them down from their Ravendorms - dormitories, that is. If all is well, introduce yourself and tell the students that you are the Transfiguration Professor and Head of Ravenclaw House." Cho nodded and dashed off at a run, her long black hair, tied up in a ponytail, flapping against her back.

"Tristian," Varossa said, "Go down to the Slytherin dorms - yes, I know that you know where they are; you went down there to make out during the Yule Ball - and introduce yourself as the Potions Professor and Head of Slytherin, since our dear Severus is no longer with us." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "The password is 'Sinister'. Go." Tristian did.

"Miss Delacour," Varossa said, turning to Fleur, "there is no House in Hogwarts that you will be watching over. However, please go to the Hufflepuff dormitories and introduce yourself to those who do not know you. The password is 'breakfast.'" At Fleur's bemused look, she said, "They're Hufflepuffs. Go figure." She gave directions to the Hufflepuff Common Room, and as Fleur dashed off to follow the order, raced off to go to the Gryffindors. Something told her that one of them, possibly Michelle, was the person who had screamed.

* * *

"Professor Varossa?" Ginny asked. She rubbed her eyes and realized that she was lying in an armchair in the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Who screamed?" Christiana asked without preamble.

"I dunno," Ginny moaned, still tired. "A seventh-year, I bet," she said, "as it came from their dorms." She pointed wildly at the space between the seventh-year boys' Gryffindorms and the girls'.

"Oh, and a fat lot of help you are," Christiana snapped. Then, trying to think of what would make a bunch of Gryffindors dash into the common room, she yelled, "FREE SKIVING SNACKBOXES!!!!!!!" As if on cue, fifty people in red-and-gold pajamas ran down the steps into the Common Room.

"Skiving Snackboxes?" Dennis Creevery asked.

"Ooooh, those are sweet," Rebecca Burkhard, Dylan's American cousin, said. "We get those even in the States. There's a joke shop Evelyn - my cousin, Dylan's twin sister - told me about. Phillie's Pranks, it's called. Those Skiving Snackboxes are really popular there." As if to prove her point, she added, "Really."

"LISTEN!" Varossa shouted. All the buzzing stopped. "Due to Headmaster Dumbledore's death, Professor McGonagall will be the new Headmistress. Therefore, I will be your Head of House as well as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor." There was an angry and disappointed mumble at that, for not many students were particularly fond of Christiana Varossa. The previous year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Professor Kastner, had been brutally torn to shreds by a parciularly vicious Blast-Ended Skrewt. "Who screamed?" Varossa asked.

Nobody responded. "Harry," Seamus muttered, "it was you."

"Shut up, Finnigan," Ginny whispered in her boyfriend's ear. "We know it was him."

"Where are the snackboxes?" demanded Dean.

"Oh, shut up," Hermione shrieked. "I want to go back to bed, let Professor Varossa tell the damned story!"

"Well, if none of you screamed..." Varossa muttered. "I'd best be off. And - " she added with a grin - "expect a change in staff in the morning. I advise the boys to dress nicely." Thinking of Fleur, Varossa swept out of the room.

* * *

Several jaws dropped. Some eyes that were blurry and sleepy flicked open and looked very awake. Justin Finch-Fletchey and Ernie Macmillan, who were doing their homework, saw Fleur and accidentally brushed their fifteen-rolls-of-parchment essay for History of Magic into the fireplace. They didn't seem to care even when Zacharias Smith bonked them on the head with his broomstick. Apparantly he was not at all affected by the half-veela standing before them.

"Salut," Fleur greeted them. At the others' baffled looks, she translated, "Zat means hello." Looks of comprehension dawned on certain Hufflepuffs' faces, but most looked bewildered. "J'mappelle Fleur Delacour," she introduced herself to the first, second, and third-years.

"She means her name is Fleur Delacour," Hannah Abbot snapped. Turning back to Fleur with an irritated look, she scowled, "Speak English, will you? We know you're doing it just to show off." Hannah knew nothing of the sort, but she wanted Justin to pay attention to her. Just once!

"Je suis desolee," Fleur apologized. "I am the new professor for Charms," she explained to the students without a trace of an accent.

Ernie and Justin looked delighted. They high-fived each other with identical grins on their faces. "We've got Charms four times a week!" they explained gleefully to Zacharias, who only scowled.

Seeing the only boy who was not looking as though madly in love with her, Fleur spun around to face Zacharias. She stroked his cheek softly and a blue-green aura surrounded him. "Ah," Fleur murmured, "tu ze young verevolf?" Nobody aside from Zacharias seemed to have heard her, but he gave her a mistrustful glare and nodded slightly.

"Who screamed?" Fleur asked, her accent now quite thick.

Everyone looked around, puzzled.

"Oh," explained third-year Rose Zeller, her words sounding muffled, "there was a fly in my ice cream." She held up a can of Breyer's Chocolate Ice Cream. Clearly a muggle-born, Fleur thought with distaste. Instead of speaking those words, however, she grabbed the can and emptied it on Hannah Abbot's head.

"A bientot," she called to them, walking out with a very smug smile on her face.

"She means good-bye," came Hannah Abbot's muffled, echoing voice.

* * *

"Crabbe, Goyle," Tristian Cladwine snapped. "Get off of those girls, please." Sulkily, Crabbe and Goyle looked up at the scowling professor. "Wondering how I know your names? That's for me to know and you to find out. Now step away from Miss Parkinson and Miss Zabini before I Bind you to that firetong." Hastily, Crabbe stepped away from Pansy. How she escaped from her closed-off room was anybody's guess. Goyle rolled off of Blay Zabini with a wistful glance back at her. Strange, thought Tristian, how some idiots are even worse when it comes to girls. I mean, Blay Zabini! His scowl deepened.

"Malfoy!" shouted Tristian. He didn't know why, but he felt extreme contempt towards the blonde Slytherin. "Don't talk when a teacher is talking, haven't you learned any manners? Surely your father has taught you that."

Two pink tinges appeared in Draco's pale cheeks, but he answered coolly, "And surely your father, a Mr. Frank Cladwine, taught you the manners of a bloody muggle." Everyone spun around to face Draco, who was leaning against a banister, smirking.

"Detention, Mr. Malfoy," snapped Professor Cladwine. "And if you insult my muggle ancestry again, it will be four hundred points. Whether I'm your Head or not."

"Well, well, well," Draco muttered, not foolish enough to talk back. "Let's see how much Father likes that."

"One hundred points," Cladwine smirked.

"Shut up, Malfoy, and get upstairs," ordered sixth-year prefect Adam Sohaiston. Horrified at the menacing look on Draco's face, he stammered, "I-I-I only meant..."

"Do not attempt to frighten the students, Mr. Malfoy," Cladwine commanded. "According to Professor Varossa, the teachers have all been rather laid-back when it comes to you," he whispered menacingly in Draco's ear. "I am going to fix that, whether you like it or not."

He then counted the number of students in the Common Room. "We're one short," he said.

"Michelle, sir," Gemma stuttered, as though afraid to lose her House more points. "She's been gone since this morning."

"Michelle... Michelle who?"

"Malfoy, sir."

Cladwine gave Draco the smallest of glances. "I don't know," Draco muttered, clearly angry about being hated so by this new teacher.

"I see. And who might you be?" he asked, turning to Gemma.

Gemma told him.

"Sir," Draco said, nearly choking on the word, "she switched Houses."

"To... Ravenclaw, right?" Gemma asked loudly.

"No," Draco replied with a grin.

"Hufflepuff?" Gemma asked, horrified.

"No," Draco asked, his grin widening.

"She switched to Gryffindor?" Gemma demanded.

"Yeah," Draco said.

Dylan looked horrified. Gemma looked furious. Pansy Parkinson looked delighted.

But none of those expressions could match the one on Cladwine's face. He was positively terrified.