Les Potterables

Les Potterables

ACT III

"What is all the banging and thumping out on the grounds?" wondered Dumbledore, rising from his nightstand with his hair in curlers. As he walked to the window, he remembered distractedly that he had better wrap up his whiskers or he'd have bed-beard again. He drew back the curtain and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness outside.

What he saw through the mist astounded him.

* * * * *

It really was a lot of mist. If they hadn't been so worked up, some of the students might have suspected Fleur of hiring a dry ice machine or at least casting a few spells to make the moment more exciting.

"Here upon this lawn we shall build our barricade!" whooped Fleur, standing on a pile of rubble and letting the wind play dramatically with her hair.

"I really do think you're taking things over the top," called Lupin.

Fleur grinned. Taking things over the top was fun. "I need someone to go into Hogwarts and tell me what our opponents are up to."

"I'll do it," volunteered someone wearing green-edged Slytherin robes. Snape had used a potion to youthen himself a couple decades and was really quite proud of the effect. As long as his greasy hair remained concealed within the hood, he was sure he wouldn't be recognized. Fleur, who didn't know every Hogwarts student on sight anyway, nodded to him and spoke a few words in his ear.

Meanwhile, Viktor had spotted someone. "Ginny, vhat are you doing here? And dressed as a Durmstrang, no less!"

Ginny wrapped the fur cape a little tighter about herself. "I don't like the smell in the Great Hall either," she said, too proud to admit she was hoping for a glance of Harry.

"Vell, you're a Hogvarts student. You don't vant McGonagall to catch you here. Vait. I have an idea." Viktor thought for a moment, then reached into his pocket, took out a quill, and scribbled a few lines on a piece of paper. "Go see if you can find that Ronette girl and give her this, please."

It was on Ginny's lips to say she wasn't a errand girl, but then she thought: no, Harry might still be there. "All right," she agreed, taking the paper.

"Thank you." Viktor turned to aid Fleur and the other students. There was a hideous crashing sound as they began dismantling Hagrid's hut for parts. The huge man danced helplessly on the lawn, tearing at his beard.

"I bin livin' there for nigh onto fifty years!" he howled.

The students nodded cheerfully and continued the disassembling. That explained the smell that had soaked into the wood and stones. Despite that one flaw, it was strong stuff. Tough. Excellent material for a barricade.

* * * * *

No one noticed Ginny as she walked all alone to the Beauxbaton's carriage. No one challenged her when she slipped inside, and indeed, the carriage itself was virtually deserted. Revolution seemed to be a popular activity among the foreign students.

Her footsteps echoed as she walked to the back of the carriage, to the lonely corner behind the iron gate. She tried the door. It was locked, but she was small enough to slip through the bars. Maybe they've left already, she thought, straightening and peering around. Maybe Harry decided to do the detention after all. But if they're not here, how am I going to find them? I --

Then her heart stopped beating for a moment. There, standing only a few feet in front of her wearing an extremely silly false beard and red-and-blue uniform was Harry. He stared at her with blank incomprehension, about the same expression he'd bestow on a plate of spinach he'd been told to eat.

"I have. . . I have a letter for, uh, for the young lady," she blurted. "It's from a boy at the barricade."

She realized she'd made a mistake as comprehension settled over Harry's features. Now he could just follow the script and didn't have to worry about figuring out who she really was. "Give that letter to me, my boy," he said.

Boy? Ginny glanced down at herself. It was true that the fur cape covered most of her body. It was also true that she was not, well, not quite what she wished she could be physically. But boy? "He said to give it to Ron."

"Ronette," corrected Harry.

Ronette? All right. Harry's grasp on gender differences was apparently rather weak. She could deal with that. "Ronette."

"You have my word that Ronette will know what the letter contains."

Oh, damn. He was singing again.

"Tell the young man she will read it tomorrow, and here's for you pains." He pressed a slightly sticky and crumpled Chocolate Frog card into her palm and began escorting her to the gate. Ginny tried to pretend that they were walking somewhere together under the moonlight, maybe going for a stroll by the lake, but it was difficult to keep up with Harry's false beard tickling her cheek. "Go careful now, stay out of sight. There's danger on the grounds tonight."

And then, just like that, the gates were shut behind her. There was a click as Harry turned the key in the lock. Ginny rushed to the bars, but Harry had already turned his back and was eagerly ripping open Viktor's note.

What the note said was this: Miss Ronette. Please stay away. I am joining the protest with Fleur and will probably get in a lot of trouble. It would be best if you never came near me again. Viktor.

Harry opened his lips and sang: "Dearest Ronette, you have entered my soul and now we must part. Can it only be a day since we met and, err. . . " The word 'fart' kept suggesting itself for a rhyme, but Harry didn't believe it had quite the right feel. "Entered each others' hearts?" he tried. That was okay, he supposed, but really everything would flow more smoothly if he just improvised. "I pray that God will bring me home to be with you. Pray for your Viktor; he prays for you!" With that, Harry dashed off.

Ginny leaned against the gate and shook her head. Harry. What a wingnut the boy could be! And the card he'd given her was of Octigus Freebly, a wizards who had bred the Naughty-Tentacled Freebly Fern, but who was mostly known for his humorous impressions of King Charles II's favorite spaniel, Whoopsie.

Well, at least she'd had her peek at him, even if the moment had been as pointless and frustrating as it always was. She pushed off the gate and began the walk back towards Hogwarts. She just didn't feel up to going back to Gryffindor Tower and going to bed. Despite the peril, she decided she would join the protest on the barricade.

"On my own, pretending he's beside me. . . " She broke off. Now where had that come from? Anyway, if Harry had been beside her, he'd probably be ignoring her. No, worse than ignoring her. To ignore someone you have to notice them in the first place. "Without him, I feel his arms around me -- " but only if he'd taken a bath first. "And when I lose my way I close my eyes and he has found me."

Well, at least that part might be true. With all his sneaking around Hogwarts there wasn't a large chance of Harry getting lost anytime soon.

She gave it up. Singing a romantic song over the lack of Harry in her life just didn't seem to be going anywhere and was kind of whiny and annoying to boot. She should really just try to forget about him. Date another boy or two. Yeah, that was the ticket.

Her best intentions firmly in hand, Ginny headed for the slowly growing barricade on Hogwarts' front doorstep.

* * * * *

Dawn. A group of tired but proud students let out a whoop. The barricade was complete.

"Was the hair salon necessary?" asked Lupin. Fleur ignored him and adjusted the ruffles on her blouse. It seemed to have sprouted more gold buttons and trim overnight. "Have faith in yourselves and don't be afraid!" she cried, climbing to the summit and flourishing the air freshener. "They'll have to listen to us now!"

"Why?" asked Lupin. "Just because you heaped a bunch of junk on the lawn?"

"Yes."

Lupin pondered. It was just possible she had a point. Wizards weren't known for coming up with practical solutions to dilemmas, after all. As if to reinforce this conclusion, an amplified voice came sailing over the grounds.

"You at the barricade listen to this!"

Everyone winced and ducked despite their best intentions. It was Professor McGonagall's voice.

"You're being very ridiculous and you're going to receive huge detentions. Come out from behind that thing at once!"

The students murmured to themselves, but Fleur rose up proud. "Damn her warnings straight to hell! We'll fight until they get rid of that smell!"

"You're singing again," sighed Lupin, but the students cheered her words, some even going so far as to climb to the top of the barricade as wave their bums at McGonagall. Lupin flinched as several small explosions went off. Apparently McGonagall and company were hurling spells at the barricade. This really was getting out of hand.

But at least everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.

There was a series of loud pops and sizzles as spells were cast at a figure climbing over the barricade. The students cheered as the figure, wearing a green-edged cloak, dropped safely behind the barricade.

"It's the spy!" said one student excitedly. They all gathered around as the spy sat down next to Fleur.

"The professors are confused," said the green-cloaked figure. "They're not sure what they're going to do so you don't have to worry about them casting spells just yet. If you wait -- "

Lupin sighed. "Hello, Severus."

Everyone froze. "He's taken a few drops of youth potion," the werewolf continued, "but I'd know that nose anywhere."

Snape reached for his wand, but the students were quicker. And he was surrounded.

"Let's stun him!" cried a student.

"And strip him and paint him green and send him back to Hogwarts all tied up!" cried another.

Snape threw back his hood. "Spell me now or spell me later! Every schoolboy to his sport! You'll regret your actions later when you receive a poor report!"

"Don't sing, Severus," said Lupin wearily.

"And I'm not a schoolboy," said Fleur, nettled, puffing out her chest. "Tie him up and take him inside the hair salon. He's our hostage."

"Should we wash his hair while we're at it?"

"Don't be silly."

Snape was hustled off. More explosions filled the air as another person attempted to clamber over the barricade. "Dumbledore, you ass," muttered Lupin to himself. "Why can't you just spray around a little Pine Sol and be done with it?"

The second person turned out to be Ginny. She moved sluggishly, keeping her fur cape wrapped around herself. Viktor hurried over. "Vhy did you come back?" he asked.

"I don't know." She sat on the ground with a sudden, heavy thump. "At first I thought it'd get Harry's attention. Then I decided to give him up." Viktor knelt by her side.

"Vhy are you sitting here like this? Are you not vell?" He suddenly noticed that her feet looked stiff and grayish, as if coated in a layer of frost.

She smiled a bit. "I got tagged by a Slow Freeze Curse. I won't be able to move soon." She sighed. "Mum's going to send a Howler when she hears of this, isn't she?"

"Probably," agreed Viktor.

"Oh, well. You know, if only Harry would notice. . . But it's silly, isn't it?"

"Vell. . . " Viktor remembered waiting with Harry in the tent to do the first Triwizard Tournament task. Harry had farted nervously for a solid twenty minutes. Then he had taken out his little dragon figurine and lifted its tail to see if. . . well, to see what it had underneath. He'd capped it all off by sticking his thumb in the dragon's mouth, letting out an ear-splitting shriek when it bit him, and then running all around the tent screaming 'bah bah bah!' Viktor looked into Ginny's pleading eyes and didn't have the heart to tell her any of this. "Of course it's not silly."

"Yeah, right." She sighed. "But thanks anyway. And I'm sorry. That girl. . . in the black. . . dress is my brother. . . Ron." She was having trouble speaking now as the frost crept up to her lips.

"Oh."

"I. . . thought. . . it. . . was funny. Sorry. Want to. . . go on a. . . date later? I'll. . . buy you lunch. . . to apologize."

"Ginny, I. . . Vell, I like Herm-own-ninny," confessed Viktor.

"Figures," said Ginny, and froze solid.

He set her head gently on the ground and looked around, slowly becoming aware that the other students had formed a circle around them.

"She is the first to fall," said Fleur, seeming more thrilled about the fact then appalled. "The first of us to fall upon this barricade."

"You really are going too far," muttered Lupin, taking a drink.

Viktor felt he should probably say something stirring about how brave Ginny was or something, but talking had never been his forte and he didn't feel up for it. He shrugged, blinked, and scowled instead. Fleur sighed, disappointed, but willing to be pragmatic.

"Okay, take her into the salon so we don't step on her," she commanded. Ginny was carefully lifted and borne off.

And the very instant she was out of sight, Harry popped over the barricade. If there were a prize for cosmic spite, Harry would take first prize. "I'm a volunteer!" he squealed.

Harry was someone Fleur did recognize. Like Viktor, she had very powerful memories of waiting in the tent with him. "Oh, good," she said unenthusiastically. "Go back to Hogwarts and tell them we want them to deodorize the Great Hall, will you?"

"Oh, I can't." Harry itched under the cotton stuffing in his shirt. "It's too dangerous. The teachers are getting ready to attack."

Normally, Fleur wouldn't trust any sentence that came out of Harry's mouth unless it had a seal of authenticated truth attached to it. But there was the sound of matching feet from the other side of the rubble. She peered through a gap between an old cauldron and a bit of what had formally been Hagrid's east wall. Professor McGonagall was marching at head of a line of teachers and students. Draco Malfoy strutted at the front, wearing a badge on his robe and an expression of ineffable smugness on his face.

"Take your positions," called Fluer. The students, most of who hadn't realized they were supposed to have positions, scrambled to find a place. Fleur glanced down at Harry. "You too," she told him. "And if you hex any of us behind our backs, you'll be very, very sorry."

Harry just nodded. He was looking forward to curse some of his fellow Hogwarts students actually. He took out his wand, gave his bum a few quick scratches, and took a spot on the barricade.

Madness ensued. The attacking army had McGonagall at their head. But the defenders had a full head of steam and were aching for a fight. Spells flew back and forth. Parts of the barricade turned green and fuzzy and tried to creep away. A couple of students sprouted horns and one even attempted to graze on the green bits of the barricade. But McGonagall's army was entirely without shelter and was definitely coming off the worst - oh, not McGonagall herself. She was safely at the back. But several students in the front rank fell, twitching or moaning or transforming in some bizarre fashion.

Harry took careful aim and muttered a spell under his breath. A curse that had been leveled at Fleur sizzled out about two inches in front of her dainty nose. She flinched, then recovered herself well enough to nod at her savior and go back to the battle. It was over a few seconds later as McGonagall's army beat a hasty retreat.

The students at the barricade whooped and cheered. "They're running away!" one yelled.

"Oh, I suppose we've won then," said Lupin, raising his bottle in an ironic salute. No one paid any attention to him.

Fleur turned to Harry. "Thank you for saving me," she said.

Harry paused. Should he tell her that he was aiming for Draco Malfoy and only coincidentally hit the spell that was coming at her? Nah.

"I will reward you after we've won." Fleur turned back to watching.

Reward? She was offering him a reward? He wondered if she had any pork on her. Probably not. A few other ways in which Fleur could reward him swam smuttily around in his mind, but the images mostly confused him and he dismissed them after a moment. And then he spied a lone figure off to the side and the mists in his head cleared.

"Give me no thanks madam, there's something you can do!"

"Hmm?" asked Fleur, distracted.

"Give me the spy, Herr Snape, let me take care of him!"

"Don't even think about it, Potter," spat Snape.

"Take care of 'im?" repeated Fleur, puzzled. "What, feed 'im, give 'im water, that kind of thing?"

"No! Blow his brains out!"

There was a pause. "Uh, that's a little dark, Harry."

"Bah?"

"Well, 'e is a teacher. I don't want to get sent to Azkaban for killing 'im."

"Oh." Harry considered. He was a trifle confused. He thought you were allowed to kill people during revolutions. But then he hadn't read the Revolutionary's Handbook and it was possible Fleur knew more about it than he did. "Well, can I curse him and stun him and send him back to Hogwarts in chains?" he asked hopefully.

Fleur considered. Snape was a hostage and could prove useful later on. Then again, Harry was the sort to throw a bloody great temper tantrum if he didn't have his way and she couldn't afford the distraction. Plus he might start farting again. She thought it over some more and decided Dumbledore probably wouldn't pay too high a price to get Snape back anyway. "All right," she decided. "Just don't go too far overboard."

"You've already done that," muttered Lupin.

Grinning hugely, Harry untied Snape. Keeping his wand poised at groin level the whole time, he marched the Potions Master into the hair salon. Snape kept an impassive face.

"Well, well, who's serving detention now?" cackled Harry as he shut the door behind them.

"The barricade will fall sooner or later, Potter," said Snape calmly. "And then you will regret this. You think your last detention was difficult? How would you like to be expelled instead?"

"Dumbledore wouldn't expel me," said Harry sulkily. "And I didn't build the barricade."

"But you participated. And you threatened a teacher. I think you could very well be expelled for this."

Harry quickly backtracked. "I didn't threaten you."

"Really."

"Nope. Never intended to. It was a bluff."

Snape was nonplussed. "A bluff?"

"Oh, yes," said Harry magnanimously. "You see, I'm going to let you free!"

"Eh?" said Snape.

Harry smiled an innocent, boyish smile. "You can go, Professor Snape sir," he lisped ingratiatingly.

"You don't want to let me go, Potter."

"Oh, yes I do," said Harry, dripping smugness. "I would never, never hurt a professor of Hogwarts because that's just wrong and against the rules and I'd lose a lot of House Poi--uh, it's wrong!"

Snape didn't budge. He could hardly believe that feeble-brained Potter had figured it out. While he had not been looking forward to whatever humiliations the Boy-Who-Lived intended to heap upon him, at least Snape knew that afterwards he could have the twit expelled. Permanently expunged from Hogwarts' records.

But this. . . Harry letting him go without a spell upon him. . .

Dumbledore would probably knight the wretched child. Gryffindor would be assured of winning the House Cup in the spring. Harry would win another special award for meritorious conduct. Snape's stomach roiled.

"You're letting me go? You have me at your mercy now. It will never happen again!" Don't waste this chance, Snape begged mentally.

Harry blinked. His green eyes were large and dewy and innocent. "You are wrong, and always have been wrong! I'm a boy, no worse than any boy."

"Don't sing!" groaned Snape.

"You are free, and there are no conditions, no bargains or petitions."

Of course not, thought Snape, because there was no need for bargains or petitions. Dumbledore would see to it that the boy was rewarded.

"There's nothing that I blame you for. You are my teacher, nothing more." Harry held open the back door of the hair salon. "If I come out of this un-cursed, find me and do your worst. No doubt our paths will cross again!"

Snape gritted his teeth and debated staying at the barricade, to hell with Potter's charity. But no, Dumbledore would somehow find out the truth regardless. "We shall settle this later, Potter," growled Snape, stalking off.

Harry shut the door and cackled maniacally. Oh, life was so good when God was on your side! Snape would never live this one down.

Now all he had to do was find Viktor and bring him home to dear little Ronette.

He emerged from the hair salon and stood blinking in the waning sunlight. The day was passing fast. Apparently the professors at Hogwarts couldn't figure out what to do about the barricade. This was not surprising since they never figured out that there was a basilisk in the girls' loo, even after it had petrified three students, a cat, and a ghost, and had had to rely on three second year students to decipher all the clues. Deciding what to do about a barricade on the front lawn could probably stump them until Christmas.

The students watched Harry curiously. All of them were secretly dying to know what sort of hexes he might have subjected Snape to. Many of them wished they could have been the ones holding the wand - Snape being the people-friendly guy that he was. Lupin, who had a longer and bitterer relationship with Snape than most (and was getting quite drunk in the bargain) raised his bottle in a salute.

Fleur cautiously stood at the crest of the barricade and peered towards Hogwarts. "I think we're safe for the night," she announced. "It's dinnertime. Everyone's in the Great Hall. They probably won't attack again until morning."

"I wonder if they have pig?" murmured Harry to himself.

"Everyone get a little rest," continued Fleur. "I'll keep watch."

The students began to settle. They talked in low voices. A few took out cards, other passed around Cauldron Cakes and bottles of butterbeer. For his part, Harry began the search for Viktor. This shouldn't have been difficult. Viktor was sprawled out at the foot of the barricade near the table Lupin had commandeered for himself, so it only took Harry a little more than fifteen minutes to locate him.

While Harry searched, the students sang: "Drink with me to days gone by -- "

"Okay," agreed Lupin immediately.

"Sing with me the songs we knew -- "

"Personally, I think there's been enough singing going on."

One of the students turned on Lupin. "I don't think you've really entered into the spirit of things here," he accused.

"No? So sorry." Lupin pondered a moment, then sang: "Drink with me to days gone by. Tell me when did logic die? What we're doing here makes no sense at all! There will always be stench in Hogwarts' Great Hall! After this, I can kiss my job good-bye!"

"That was inspiring," said Fleur, refilling Lupin's bottle. "Now shut up."

Harry finally spotted Viktor. He was trying to read a book, one he had seen Hermione studying from the week before, and muttering to himself.

"I wonder why she was reading this? Well, she's smart and interested in everything, so I guess it isn't surprising." He sighed deeply. "I wonder if she even knows I exist? Damn, Viktor, you're going to have to pluck up the courage to speak to her."

Now, in your normal humorous situation, Harry would have overheard all this and misconstrued Viktor's ramblings about Hermione to fit Ron. And, in fact, Harry did overhear Viktor. However, Viktor was speaking in Bulgarian and Harry didn't have the faintest idea what he was saying.

So he just translated it to suit himself.

"Aw, poor young lad, he's pining for Ronette," thought Harry, his eyes welling with sympathetic tears. "He's afraid he might die and never see her - uh him. . . " Harry reconsidered, ". . . her again."

Harry moved closer to Viktor. He settled on an old crate and turned his eyes to the heavens. The stars seemed extra bright and twinkly this evening. Harry took a deep breath.

"God on high -- "

"Ah!"

"What's that horrible noise?"

"Hear my prayer -- "

"Oooh, stop it, stop it, stop it!"

"It's like a drill!"

"In my need you have always been there."

Students fell to the ground clutching their ears. Glass shattered in Hogwarts' windows. The pitch Harry managed to hit was indescribably painful. The effect was something akin to having a dying rabbit stuck in one's ear. He moved his hands as if he were milking a giant invisible cow. Viktor tried to get up and walk away, but Harry set his foot on Viktor's cloak, and try as he might, Viktor couldn't wrench free.

"He is young -- "

"I'm going deaf!" Viktor shouted.

"He's afraid -- "

"I'm afraid my skull is going to burst!"

"Let him rest, Heaven blessed."

"Just shut up!!!!"

"Bring him home, bring him home, bring him home."

"Yes!" screamed Viktor, writhing on the ground. "Let me go back to Bulgaria! Please!"

"He's like the son I might have known -- "

This was really getting disturbing. Viktor hoped he didn't choke on his own vomit.

"If God had granted me a son."

Viktor had his doubts that Harry even knew where babies came from. And, judging by the notes Harry was hitting, a son was out of the question, at least until certain organs descended.

"The summers die one by one. How soon they fly on and on! And I am old, and will be gone. . . " Harry paused to sniffle. Viktor took advantage of his brief distraction to pull his cloak free and beat a hasty retreat. Behind him, Harry began wailing again, apparently too wrapped up in sentiment to notice that the object of his pity had fled.

"Bring him peace! Bring him joy! He is young. He is only a boy!"

Viktor nearly collided with Fleur. "Can't you get him to stop that ungodly noise?" she hissed. The gold trim on her dress glinted menacingly.

"I don't think he can even hear me over his own wailing!"

"You can take! You can give! Let him be. Let him live!"

"The people at Hogwarts are going to think we're working up some really nasty spell to throw at them." Fleur glanced at Harry, who was now rising to his feet, an unholy glow suffusing his face. "Uh-oh."

"What?" Then Viktor understood, as Harry hit some truly soul-chilling notes.

"If I die, LET me die!" Harry all but rent his own clothes in his frenzy of self-sacrifice. "Let him live! Bring him home! Bring him home. Bring. . . him. . . " Harry began bringing the palms of his hands together.

"Plug your ears," advised Fleur. She and Viktor dove for cover, clutching their heads.

". . .HOME!!!!!!"

Glass shattered. The barricade trembled. Creatures in the Forbidden Forest wailed. Beauxbatons' winged horses stamped uneasily in their stalls and Lupin threw back his head and howled. Then finally, the mighty note faded and the night grew silent.

Fleur cautiously lifted her head. "Is he finished?"

Viktor took a peek. Harry was standing, bathed in moonlight, his hands clasped before his chest. He gazed into the sky as if he were holding a personal conversation with God and was getting the better part of the debate. "I hope so," he replied.

"Good." Fleur stood and brushed off her dress. "Next time he starts up, I'm slinging him over the barricade. That should get some attention from the Hogwarts professors."

"Yes, that and a years' detention," said Viktor glumly. He took another nervous look at Harry, but the Boy-Who-Lived seemed inclined to remain in his posture all night. Or at least until he received an ovation. "Do you really think we can win our point with this barricade?"

"Oh course!" Fleur clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Have faith in yourself and don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid. I'd just feel better if all I had to do was catch a Snitch. I always know where I am when there's a Snitch around."

"Funny." Fleur began climbing the barricade. "I never have trouble believing in myself." She flipped her silvery-blonde hair around smugly as she took up her post near the summit. Viktor shook his head and decided to get some sleep. Maybe by the time he awoke his ears would have stopped ringing.

* * * * *

"So you managed to escape? Well done, Severus." Dumbledore paced a small circle. "I must say I don't know what's gotten into all these wogs."

Madame Maxime and Igor Karkaoff glowered.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I suppose that was a little bit rude." Dumbledore did his naughty giggle and Snape wished he could sink into the carpet for shame.

"Students at Beauxbatons are encouraged to voice their disapproval if they feel they are being unjustly treated," said Madame Maxime. Her voice was dignified, but it contained more than a hint of reproach.

"And students at Durmstrang are trained to fight dirty if they see the need," added Karkaroff, twirling his beard around his finger. Dumbledore peered at him.

"Weren't you taller, rather imposing, with dark hair and rather bad teeth?" he asked, taking in the slim, silvery-haired and rather weak-chinned figure of Durmstrang's headmaster.

"No, that's my cousin Dmitri," said Karkaroff sourly. "I don't know why we're always mistaken for one another. We don't look alike."

"No, he's much sexier," said Dumbledore absently.

Snape wished the carpet would eat him.

"Can we come to ze point?" asked Madame Maxime. "What do you intend to do about the smell in your eating room?"

"Smell?" asked Dumbledore, astounded.

"The centuries of accumulated farts," Snape translated.

"In the Great Hall?" Flitwick prompted when the headmaster still looked confused.

"Oh, that. I don't see how it's any business of mine."

"But you're the headmaster!"

"And as such, I must respect tradition." Dumbledore stopped in his tracks to shake a long finger at them. "Some of those farts have been in the Great Hall for centuries. They're heirlooms of past ages."

Madame Maxime and Karkaroff exchanged a glance, a glance that spoke a thousand words. "In my eating hall we 'ave two crystal wands 'anging on ze wall. One shoots silver sparks, the other blue an' zey smell of lavender and cloves. . . "

"We have the head of a griffin hanging on our wall," said Karkaroff. "It was slain eight hundred years ago by Vachel the Mighty. Its beak is three feet long."

"Well, at Hogwarts we have farts," muttered Snape through pinched lips.

"Yes," agreed Dumbledore, apparently not seeing anything the least bit wrong with this. "So you see, we can't agree to your students' demands. I'm afraid we'll have to kill them all."

You could have heard a pin drop.

"Whoops, I'm afraid that's not quite what I meant." Dumbledore giggled again and they all took a silent moment to loathe him. "I mean, we have to defeat their resistance and give them all detentions. And that'll be the end of it."

Madame Maxime sniffed. Karkaroff's eyes narrowed and he twirled his beard more thoughtfully. He'd heard rumors that his prize student was at the barricade, but he didn't dare say anything aloud for fear it might put more harebrained ideas into Dumbledore's addled skull. "I hope the means used to subdue the students won't be too violent?" he tried instead.

"Oh, well, we won't be using Unforgivables!" Dumbledore assured him.

It was not reassuring.

"So Flitwick, you organize the troops," Dumbledore continued. "I want every professor and every student able to hold a wand marching out there. Except Neville Longbottom. He can stay behind and peel potatoes."

"Yes, Headmaster," sighed Flitwick. Lucky Neville.

Satisfied, Dumbledore turned to Snape again. "Now, Severus, could you tell me again exactly how you escaped the barricade. . . ?"

* * * * *

Meanwhile Fleur and the students, quite unaware of what had just transpired in Dumbledore's office, began to prepare for a fresh day of resistance.

"Today surely," cried Fleur cheerfully. She was certain it had to be soon. After all, how long could this go on before some reporter caught wind of what was happening? Especially with that wretched Skeeter woman sniffing about the place. Then details could come out that would be quite embarrassing for Dumbledore.

She corrected that thought. Dumbledore probably didn't know how to get embarrassed. But the other professors would see sense, surely.

Surely.

So she was quite properly taken aback when spells began to rattle the frame of the barricade even before dawn had begun to conquer the sky.

"They're in earnest!" cried a student going pale.

"We'll get detentions for life!" wailed another.

Fleur climbed to the summit of the barricade and peered over the top. If she hadn't naturally possessed a great deal of composure, her jaw would probably have dropped to the ground below. Still, it would be fair to say she was startled.

A veritable army was ranged against them. It looked as if every student in Hogwarts had been pressed into service. Well, except for one small figure sitting at the back next to a tub of potatoes.

Aware of the eyes on her, Fleur turned around. She allowed the wind a moment to play with her magnificent hair before she spoke. "It appears zey are going to great lengths to defend the stink in their 'all," she managed calmly. "But we can't back down now!"

"Why not?" asked Lupin. Surrender seemed a perfectly viable option to him.

"Because zen they'll 'ave won!"

"Pardon me if I seem a little dense this morning -- " Lupin had to raise his voice as the sound of hundreds of approaching feet drowned out his words, " - but it seems to me that they're going to win regardless of what we do."

Someone on the other side shouted an order and spells began eating away at the material of the barricade.

"They may defeat us, but our principles will remain, pure and unsullied!" Fleur replied, her voice remaining steady despite the din behind her. "If we surrender, zat's just like saying: 'Oh, well, you're right. The stench is fine after all. My bad.' Don't you see? We have ze 'igher moral ground!"

"I'd settle for higher numbers and better spells," muttered Lupin as Hagrid's door crashed to the ground, leaving a full quarter of the barricade exposed. Unfortunately, students nodded as they saw Fleur's point. Lupin saw her point as well, but he could also see the flaw in her argument: Dumbledore wouldn't see her point. And if Dumbledore didn't see her point, their resistance meant shite-all in the final analysis.

The barricade rumbled as it was struck again. There was a hiss of static, then McGonagall's amplified voice spoke again. "You at the barricade listen to this!" she cried.

"No!" yelled Fleur defiantly, but McGonagall continued.

"The students of Hogwarts march at my side. You have no chance, no chance at all. Surrender and save your hides!"

Fleur addressed the students, her stance a portrait of defiance. "Let us fall facing our foe. Take good aim, curse them well!"

"Make them pay through the nose!"

"Make them pay for the smell!"

"Let others rise to take our place," sang Fleur, "until Hogwarts is clean!"

And so the final battle began. It was really rather glorious if you were prepared to overlook exactly what the fighting was about. To every side, students were felled by spells, going rigid or twitching spasmodically, depending on what hex hit them.

Harry was untouched. After all, God was on his side. He lurked at the back, searching for an opportunity to lay his hands on Viktor and drag him away, back home to dear Ronette. Twice Viktor bumped elbows with Harry and his aim began to suffer. Having the Boy-Who-Lived constantly hovering nearby was unnerving. Creepy.

The left side of the barricade collapsed entirely. A victorious yell went up among the besiegers. Sensing defeat, Fleur climbed to the summit of the barricade and tossed her long, silvery locks. "Ze Great Hall stinks!" she cried. "Hogwarts is run by incompetents! Vive le resistance! Liberty, equality, and air that does not smell of someone's digestive system!"

A Stunning Spell toppled her. She fell over the side of the barricade, becoming entangled in a forlorn bit of red cloth, but still looking fabulous.

Sensing that all was lost, Lupin climbed to the top as well and surveyed the Hogwarts troops spread out below. "She had a point, you know," he called to them. "After all -- "

But he too was hexed before he could finish the sentence. He crumpled, still clutching his bottle.

Viktor was having troubles of his own. He'd been tagged by a Joint-Freezing Curse and fallen to the ground, unable to stand. He could barely lift his arms to defend himself by casting spells. Nevertheless, he raised his wand in trembling fingers, determined to go down fighting.

And then someone hit him over the head with a leg from one of Hagrid's chairs.

Harry stood gloating over the unconscious Viktor. At last he had his little present all ready for dear Ronette. Trouble was. . . how to Bring It Home? From the sound on the other side of the barricade, Harry had only a few minutes to spare before he too would be captured. He needed to escape. . . but how?

Harry's brain was rarely used for thinking, and it got into a bit of a panic when Harry tried to force it to produce a result. For a few seconds, he just stood there blinking stupidly as his brain desperately asked his other internal organs for their opinions. Then it remembered that God was on Harry's side and relaxed.

And the answer came at once.

Harry found himself staring intently at the ground. In a better story, there would be a convenient manhole for the hero to escape down. There wasn't, but in the place of a manhole, a memory came knocking.

In Harry's second year, he had had occasion to go underneath Hogwarts for a game of Find the Basilisk. Harry had enjoyed the experience immensely -- charging down murky caverns that reeked of ancient poo, screaming 'bah' at the top of his lungs, waving a toy sword covered with the most obviously fake rubies ever to come out of a gumball machine, and knowing that somehow he'd survive it all and be rewarded with a zillion and a half house points in the end.

Harry pushed the happy recollections aside for later. The point was, that massive complex of tunnels couldn't fit under Hogwarts Castle, which meant it had to spill out into the grounds. Which meant that somewhere under his feet was an escape route. He just had to find it.

So he pointed his wand at the ground and let fire. And here it has to be said that either God really was on Harry's side or He wanted to get the whole silly business over with as quickly as possible, for Harry hit it smack dead-on perfect his first try. The ground caved in at his feet, revealing the entrance to an underground tunnel. The familiar scent of old excrement washed over Harry and he began to feel at home at once.

The besiegers were beginning to climb the barricade. There wasn't a moment to lose. Without pausing to think about the potentially fatal height of the drop into the tunnel, Harry muscled Viktor into the hole. There was a rather long pause, then a faint thunk and a splash. Harry levered himself down with more caution. As the final touch, he summoned a patch of dirt and grass with the Accio spell and used it to cover his getaway. It settled over the hole in an unrealistic green circle, guaranteed to fool anyone who didn't look at it.

Half a minute later, Snape came over the rapidly disintegrating summit of the barricade. All the defenders were stunned or cursed. Snape stepped on a few out of spite, for he was seething. His orders, straight from Dumbledore, were to find Potter and -

Snape ground his teeth as he turned over unconscious student bodies with the toe of his boot. The telltale red-and-white stripes were nowhere in sight, however. But the breeze carried a wisp of familiar odor to Snape's nostrils, and his gaze fell at once upon the circle of green.

Trust Potter to find a hidey-hole. Sneering, Snape lifted the greenery, expecting to see Potter huddled in the mud with that dumb, goggle-eyed ape look on his face. To be met with an actual escape route took the professor by surprise. He bent down and peered into the dark hole, but could see nothing. Well, never mind. Snape had no intention of chasing after him in the stinky darkness. There was more than one way to flay a Potter.

Several feet below, Harry was finding the going a little tougher than he'd expected it to be. Viktor was, after all, quite a bit larger than he was. Harry coped with that by dragging Viktor by the feet and allowing his head to bang into every bit of rock or lump of rubble that lined the path. It kept him unconscious in any case, which was a good thing because Viktor might complain or struggle if he were awake.

Still, it was really rough going, and after fifteen minutes of blundering through the darkness, Harry felt obliged to stop for a breather and a quiet nosh of bacon from his Cornucopia. It was then that he realized that he was lost and had no idea how to do that nifty orientation spell that he vaguely remembered hearing of some time ago.

While he stood there, wondering what to do and occasionally kicking Viktor in the head to keep him from waking, he saw a dim light off in the distance. Senses tingling, Harry extinguished the light from his own wand and waited to see who it was. If only he'd brought his Invisibility Cloak! But that had been left behind with Ronette, who had better not tear it or drip butter on it or eat it or there would be hell to pay.

The light drew closer and Harry's muscles tensed further. He could hear footsteps now as well. Thankfully, they seemed to belong to a single person, and not a large person at that. Harry mulled over the possibility of attack. He had confidence in his ability to overpower a smaller, weaker person if he got the jump on them. He tensed up to strike -

And just as quickly relaxed as he recognized Hermione Granger. What on earth was she doing poking around the tunnels?

Probably robbing the corpses, thought Harry sourly, forgetting that there had been no actual casualties - although that was going to change if he didn't soon notice that Viktor was laying face-down in a puddle.

In fact, Hermione had been ordered to search the underground for fleeing rebels by Professor McGonagall. It had to be her, as she was the still the only student who had ever read Hogwarts, a History and had any idea where the tunnels led.

She had seen the light from Harry's wand and come towards it. After he doused it, other senses took over and she could plainly smell where he was standing. Hermione hesitated. She had been given orders, but she personally found the events of the past two days completely absurd, even an offense against logic and good sense. Nor did she have any desire to tangle with Harry again - he might sing at her. After a brief internal debate, she turned her back on the Boy-Who-Lived, pretended she hadn't seen him, and concentrated on scanning another passage entirely.

As she had predicted, Harry pounced on the opportunity. Not to attack - he was too well aware that Hermione was the superior spell-caster to attempt that - but to escape. Stifling a 'tee-hee, tee-hee,' he grabbed the unconscious Viktor's legs and began dragging him past the seemingly oblivious Hermione.

Hermione's eyes narrowed as she saw that Harry was dragging someone along after him. By the fur cape, she knew it had to be a Durmstrang, but the light was too dim for her to recognize the student's face. Again she hesitated, wondering if she should interfere. Harry couldn't be trusted. He might bury the student in a pool of mud or just forgot about him and leave him in the tunnel. The internal debate was fierce, but, with a stifled sigh, Hermione decided it was best to cautiously follow after.

This was not hard to do, as Harry apparently felt reinvigorated by the bacon he had eaten and set forth with high spirits, singing 'la la la la la' at the top of his lungs. His progress was also helped considerably by the arrows that were chalked along the wall, pointing the way back to Hogwarts. He took these as a sign from God instead of seeing them as a sign of Hermione merely being practical.

The arrows led to a ladder, which twenty feet above, led to a trapdoor, which, in all probability, led to the safety of Hogwarts' lower levels. That was fine. What was not so terrific was the figure that stood blocking the avenue of safety. Harry had lit his wand again, and its dim illumination fell upon the scowling features of Professor Snape.

Harry couldn't go back. He'd already been spotted, and anyway, the weight of the Bulgarian was killing his back. So instead he squared his shoulders - right pluckily, he felt - and took a deep breath.

"Don't sing, Potter," snarled Snape.

"It's you Herr Snape! I knew you wouldn't wait too long! The faithful servant at his post once more! This boy's done no wrong, and he needs a healer's care!"

"Thanks to you," said Snape, taking note of the abrasions on Viktor's head.

But Harry had a full head of steam. "Come, time is running short! Look down, Herr Snape, he's standing in his grave!" Harry yanked up Viktor's head by the hair for effect and Snape's scowled deepened as he recognized Karkaroff's star pupil. The press would eat him alive if it were discovered he'd allowed harm to come to Viktor bloody Krum. Not to mention what Igor's cousin Dmitri might do to him. Snape shuddered mentally. Dmitri was scary.

"Give way, Herr Snape! There is a life to save -- "

"I'm not here to arrest you, Potter!" Snape exploded.

"Umm. . . bah?" asked Harry, who'd run out of lines.

"I've been ordered to take you to Dumbledore."

Harry's eyes narrowed suspiciously. It sounded like a ploy to him, and it certainly wasn't part of the script. "I can find my own way, thank you," he said stiffly.

"Come, Potter, enough of this nonsense." Snape was fighting off an urge to sing that was nearly choking him.

"Bah." Harry stood firm. Snape considered his options. If he Stunned Potter, he'd receive a reprimand from Dumbledore. If he tried to drag Potter without spelling him first, he'd kick scream, and very likely bite the entire way. But if he let the little twit go, he'd get reprimanded for not doing as he was told.

Damned if he did, damned if he didn't, thought Snape, and gave in to temptation. "Take him, Potter, before I change my mind! I will be waiting, boy who lived -- for now!"

Hermione, watching from a distance, rolled her eyes as Snape stood aside. Harry, satisfied, began dragging Viktor up the ladder, dangling from the rungs by one hand as he pulled Viktor up with the other. No one had ever told Harry that it was impossible for a boy of his age and musculature to dangle by his fingertips from a flying broomstick and not fall, and no one told him that this feat was impossible either, so it worked out fine. If Uncle Vernon hadn't told him that it was impossible to walk on water when he was seven, Harry would have strolled across the Black Lake by now.

Hermione took a shortcut back to Gryffindor Tower, unnoticed by either of the others. Snape took a different exit as well. His mind was in turmoil. He'd let Potter go. He'd had a chance to Stun Potter and he'd let the creep go. What was wrong with him? Had Potter's stench finally affected his brain? It certainly felt like it was whirling inside his skull.

Head burning, Snape's feet took him to an outcropping overlooking the Black Lake. The dark depths of the water roiled beneath him. It suddenly occurred to Snape that everything would work out fine if he just sang about his problems.

"Who is this boy, is he a devil or worse? He had me caught fast and released me without a curse! It was his hour at last to dig the knife straight in, but instead he decided to save my skin! All it would take was a single small spell! Vengeance was his, but he decided to behave well!"

Snape gnashed his teeth. "Damned if I'll live in the debt of a twit! Damned if I'll see Potter rewarded! I am a professor, and professors are not mocked! I'll spit his pity right back in his face!"

He stood over the lake and glared straight into the heavens. "There is nothing on earth that we share! It's. . . "

He stared into the sky, trying to come up with a rhyme. "Bare" kept coming to mind, but he didn't see how it would fit in with his general theme.

A gnarled hand fell on his shoulder. "Just jump in the lake," advised a gruff voice. "It'll be over sooner."

"Oh, all right," said Snape, and did so. A few bubbles rose. Then the Giant Squid helpfully fished the dripping professor out. Mad-Eye Moody slung him over his shoulder and began limping back towards Hogwarts.

"You'll feel better soon," chuckled Mad-Eye to the unconscious Snape. "And just look on the bright side. Your hair's finally had a wash."

* * * * *

"As soon as he is well, you can be married!"

"Umm. . . thanks?" offered Ron. He gazed down at the unconscious figure of Viktor Krum. "He looks worse than when he was hit by that Bludger during the World Cup."

"We'll have to buy you a really pretty white dress for the ceremony," said Harry tenderly. "Silk, I think."

"Harry, I'm not wearing dresses anymore, okay? I'm a boy. It's silly."

Harry blinked, only just realizing that Ron was back in a maroon jumper and jeans. "Whot?"

"I rescued him from the Beauxbaton's carriage this morning," announced Hermione, coming into the room. "Now go see Dumbledore. He's been waiting for you."

"You're not supposed to be here yet!" protested Harry. "First Viktor has to wake up and sing about all his friends being dead, and then I'll tell him that I have to go away because people are hunting after me, and then he will marry Ronette and then I'll. . . " Harry broke off. It had been on his lips to say: "I'll die in the most shamelessly sentimental manner possible," but somehow the prospect of dying, however poignant, didn't seem inviting.

"I'm not going to marry Viktor Krum, Harry," said Ron.

"But that's the way it goes!" Harry protested.

"Harry, what's wrong with you? You're being ridiculous, even for you!"

"It's not his fault, Miss Granger."

All three of them jumped at the gruff voice and turned to stare as Mad-Eye Moody limped slowly into Gryffindor Tower. His right shoulder was slightly damp.

"Just fished Professor Snape out of the Black Lake," explained Mad-Eye. "He has it too, you see. Pleboris Mucus Showtoonicus, better known as Musicalitis. There's been a plague going round the school. Causes some very strange behavior, Musicalitis."

"I never heard of it," said Hermione, and then blushed at her own admission.

"I believe Harry contacted it from. . . " The brilliant blue magical eye seemed to stare straight through Harry. ". . . a piece of bad ham."

"Oh! The one he stole?" asked Hermione.

"Yes. The pig it came from probably ate an Irish tenor or something."

"Pigs will eat anything." Harry nodded wisely.

"Harry, you should never have stolen it in the first place! This is all your fault!"

"I never did no wrong!" wailed Harry.

"And since Snape was the first in contact with him, so he got a fairly bad case too," said Mad-Eye over Harry's noise. "And Filch. Found Filch in the basement wearing a half-mask and trying to play opera tunes on an old accordion."

"So all the nonsense of the past few days. . . ?"

"Just a bout of Musicalitis. Should clear up soon. Would have cleared up sooner if only Mr. Potter had, ahem, made himself a trifle more hygienic."

"If there's a God above, he'd - bah?" Harry blinked as the last sentence caught up with him.

"Right." Hermione rolled up her sleeves. "Bath time, Harry. Now!"

"No! Bah bah bah bah bah!!!" Harry attempted to run. Hermione got out her wand.

"I smell Harry, smell him in the air," sniggered Ron.

"Don't you start or you're next!"

"Sorry."

"And take Viktor to the hospital wing!"

"Bah bah bah!" Harry fell to his knees. "Help me God!"

"I'm an atheist." Hermione took aim.

"Get the House Elves to scrub him down good," said Mad-Eye, taking a swig from his hip flask. "They might start singing some nonsense about Jellicle cats, but it'll pass. I'll go tell the Headmaster you'll be up in a few minutes."

Barty Crouch Jr. limped out of the room, shaking his head. He really hoped the payoff would be worth the effort he'd put into his job. To think that society considered him mad when they allowed lunatics like Harry Potter to run free. Well, once Voldemort took control, everything would be better. They'd burn all the theatres for a start. Yes, just keep thinking that, he told himself. Maybe you'll survive your coming interview with Dumbledore if you do.

"Chocolate Frogs," he told the gargoyle, and the staircase rose, carrying him to Dumbledore's office. His mind on other matters, he stepped forward as the stairs stopped moving. "I've located Harry Potter, Headmaster, and -- "

He looked. His jaw dropped. He could say no more.

"Hi!" said Dumbledore, whizzing by on a pair of roller skates. He was wearing a

skin tight costumes covered with tubes, numbers, and little sparkly bits. "I'm a choo-choo! Woo-woo! Nobody can do it like a steam train!"