Latet Anguis in Herba

March 16^th, 1992 - Second Year

Gabriel Doyle bent over the broad table in the Great Hall as he furtively scribbled away at his Potions essay, due in that afternoon. The first year at Hogwarts had been comparatively light on work, allowing them all to adapt to a new system, and a new way of doing things. The moment September of Year Two arrived, there were essays galore, and they'd all been forced to suddenly learn how to work. Although Professor Snape, their Potions teacher and head of their house, was happy to let them do serious practical work with their cauldrons, he seemed intent on making sure they knew their wormwood from their wolfsbane at the same time. And Gabriel had rather failed to write the essay on it, which was why lunch was now consisting of a frantic nibbling as he wrote.

It was said that Snape favoured Slytherin house, and he did. He wouldn't deduct points from Slytherin if Gabriel didn't hand in his homework - not, Gabriel sniggered, like he would if a Gryffindor didn't - but he would be very annoyed. He'd probably just fix him with that look, the one which made him know he'd let him and the house down, and in some ways that was worse. Gabriel had nothing but the most immense respect for Professor Snape, and he didn't want to disappoint him.

But at the same time, he'd really not wanted to get this Potions essay done. He was a good six inches short of his target, and only had fifteen minutes. The parchment was taking over all of his eating room, and the text book in front of him was already invading the space of the third-year girl who'd sat opposite him. She'd glared a few times, but Gabriel didn't actually care enough about her inconvenience to move or even apologise. She had sat there when he had obviously claimed this spot - so she could either live with it or shift.

A gale of laughter from the main doors made Gabriel lift his head, brushing his dark hair out of his eyes. Though it seemed as if most of the Slytherins kept their hair under control - girls like Tanith Cole had it tied back, obsessively neat gimps like Tobias Grey arranged each hair carefully, and thugs like Caldwyn - (no, no, he couldn't even pronounce the Welsh name)... like Cal kept it bristly short - Gabriel was something of an exception. It wasn't too long, just dangling in his eyes and lying a little longer on his neck than was usual, and he liked it that way.

But what had caught his attention were two boys, their destination quite obviously the Gryffindor table at the far end of the Hall. In the time sharing Potions classes with them, plus just keeping his ear to the ground, Gabriel knew exactly who they were. Andy Harding and that Mudblood Nick Wilson - who were the worst of the damned self-righteous house.

Although he knew he should really get back to his Potions essay, Gabriel couldn't resist grabbing the end piece of a sliced baguette and lobbing it at them. His aim was true - Wilson was struck on the back of the head.

Most boys would then have returned to their essay and played innocent, knowing that nobody would doubt their responsibility in the matter. Gabriel, however, didn't. As Wilson and Harding whirled around in the direction the bread slice had come from, Gabriel raised a hand and waved cheerily and casually at them before lowering his head and unconcernedly carrying on with his essay.

He wasn't worried. He could easily tell that they were currently debating whether or not to head over and start a scene, but Gabriel knew full well that they wouldn't. They would most certainly swear to get their own back, of that he was certain, and the fact that they had Potions next filled Gabriel with delight. The Gryffindors were easily stupid enough to pick a fight under Snape's nose, and Gabriel only ever regretted the fact that he didn't have a camera to picture the exact moment of their downfall every single time they brought detention upon themselves.

Gabriel wasn't exactly sure where the animosity between he, his friends, and the Gryffindors had sprung up. A big part of it would be the automatic butting of heads between Slytherin and their 'chivalrous and brave' counterparts, as he hadn't yet picked a fight with any Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws, but some of it had to be personal. They were so... well... arrogant. It was as if they knew full well that the Hogwarts headmaster had been a Gryffindor and somehow paraded this fact. It was as if they were utterly convinced that they were the saviours of wizard kind. And it was also the fact that they seemed automatically convinced that all Slytherins were the scum of the Earth.

Gabriel was mildly aware that he was merely fuelling their prejudices, but he didn't care. He himself knew he was full of prejudice against Gryffindors, and liked it that way. He didn't want to correct them. He just wanted to torment them. And Cal, Grey and Tanith seemed quite happy to join him in that.

It wasn't like what Montague, Pucey and Bletchley did in their near-reign of terror. They would pick on anyone randomly for anything, as if demonstrating this 'superiority' Caspian Warrington often ranted on about to anyone that would listen. No, this wasn't being petty for the sake of it. This just happened to be war against a certain group. They could have easily been Hufflepuffs, or Ravenclaws - or, hell, even Slytherins themselves. It was personal. Just the fact that they were in opposing houses... helped.

Gabriel did sometimes despair of his allies, however. In Potions, when paired with Richard Keating, another Gryffindor Mudblood, Tobias had been quite polite and cheerful to him. It wasn't a friendship, just a mere acquaintance. But it was damned odd when they would roll their eyes at each other whenever Gabriel and Wilson leapt into verbal combat. Especially as, if Wilson said a wrong word or Andy Harding interjected, Tobias would instantly be at Gabriel's side and join the open conflict.

Cal was, in ways, even queerer. Gabriel had seen the Welshman reduce Muggle-born Gryffindor Anne MacKenzie to tears in Potions with a few well-placed words, then not an hour later help her pick up her books when she'd been crashed into in the corridor by some over-enthusiastic Hufflepuffs. Okay, so MacKenzie had slapped him around the face afterwards, but it was still very weird. Especially when Caldwyn had later insisted in the Common Room that he had merely badly expressed himself to MacKenzie in the first place, and mumbled that he wasn't very good with words. Gabriel doubted this - Cal had shown that he knew exactly how to hit where it hurt when he'd almost come to blows with a Ravenclaw in Herbology, and Gabriel was very sceptical of the idea that the Welshman didn't know what he was saying.

Tanith was great, mind. She was every bit as biased as Gabriel was towards the Gryffindors - every single last one of them. She'd kicked the books MacKenzie had dropped, brought Harding's manliness into question in a bickering last Tuesday, and was quick to drag Tobias out of any polite-seeming conversations with Richard Keating in Potions.

More voices drifting from the main door - friendlier and more welcome, this time - prompted Gabriel out of his reverie, and he scribbled a quick conclusion in large handwriting to make up the final two inches he had been a little short on. It wouldn't be his greatest work, but it'd do. As long as he gave something in, Snape was unlikely to give him 'the look'.

Tanith Cole glared at the third-year who was seated opposite Gabriel until the other girl eventually gave up and headed off. Tanith took her seat and unceremoniously shoved Doyle's text book back towards him as she grabbed a steak-laden plate. Tobias and Cal sat down also, the former picking up Gabriel's essay without a word and scanning it quickly.

"Don't get grease over it," Gabriel mumbled. Although he and Tobias had started off a little roughly - Tobias had disliked Gabriel's devil-may-care attitude and Gabriel had been irritated by the stick Tobias seemed to have up his arse - there seemed to be an unspoken accord between them. That didn't mean they didn't occasionally bash heads.

Tobias ignored him, still reading through the essay as he chewed on a slice of bread. "You only put one 's' in 'dissolved'. There are two," he declared at last, then grabbed Gabriel's self-inking quill and corrected it.

This was typical of Tobias Grey. He would snatch people's essays without asking, lean over shoulders as they were writing, and interrupt discussions to address spelling and grammatical errors... but heaven forbid if someone wanted help with the actual substance of an essay. If lucky, they could get him on an aspect of the subject which interested him and try to subtly take notes as he rambled on, but that was only in special situations. Fortunately, Tobias was somehow the only person who didn't find History of Magic to be the dullest thing on Earth, and so was a perfect replacement for Binns in note-taking; nobody paid attention to the ghost in lesson, but an enthused Tobias could actually make the facts sound interesting. He was like their own little revision book.

"I don't care. I just needed to get it done," Gabriel sneered, shaking his head as he took it back and rolled it up firmly. "I know, you probably got it done the day we were given it and have been driving him -" he pointed at Cal, "crazy with correcting his grammar since, but some of us aren't that quick."

Cal snorted loudly. "Leave it out, Gabe. Didn't you hear him up last night scribbling away like an idiot? He's been procrastinating all week."

Gabriel gave Tobias a smug look. "Plonker," he declared at last, not in the least bit surprised that he was being hypocritical. Not only was the fact that Tobias was the laziest sod on Earth hard to get his head around, Gabriel also slept like the dead and was oblivious to the world around him once in bed.

Tanith leant over, skewering a chunk of meat from the cut up steak. "You lot ready for Potions this afternoon, homework aside?" she asked casually, and although her expression and voice were clear, a subtle glance over the shoulder clearly told what she was referring to.

Gabriel chuckled dryly. "Oh yes. I threw a bit of bread at them. I think that irritated Wilson. They're bound to try something."

Tobias smiled a feral grin. "So do we deal with it ourselves or just let them trip over their own feet in front of Snape?"

"No, let's just try to delay them from retaliation this afternoon," Cal insisted briskly, then shrugged as all eyes turned towards him, confused. "They get the bloody moral high ground whenever anything happens in Potions. They don't get humiliated, they just get angry because they think we're hiding behind Snape."

Tobias blinked. "No shame in using the utilities you've got at hand. Besides, let them keep the moral high ground. It just makes it even funnier when they get all outraged. Keating's told me quite a few times how they rant and rave in the common room."

"They do know that they don't irritate us half as much as we irritate them, right?" Tanith asked with a smirk.

"I think so," Cal mused. "That just seems to irritate them more." He shook his head. "But I just want to get them on level ground. I want to get them back for Friday." He paused, scratching at his neck. Last week, after upending Harding's cauldron in Potions, he'd seen himself hexed at the end of the lesson. The boils had been quickly removed by Madam Pomfrey, and Harding and Wilson given detentions, but the fact was, the Slytherins had failed to give retribution. They'd got away with it.

Gabriel shrugged. "I'm sure we can do something. Let them trip over themselves in Potions, then, and we'll deal with them later." He took another bite from a pork pie. "So, we're going to the match on Saturday?" he asked at last, referring to the Slytherin-Gryffindor Quidditch game.

This was unspoken agreement that conversation about the Gryffindor duo would be knocked aside. They had far more interesting things to consider. Bickering between Quidditch captain Marcus Flint and the Seeker Terence Higgs were very entertaining for those who kept their ears close to the ground - and whilst Cal and Tobias were more likely to be having a game of Gobstones in the common room, Gabriel and Tanith kept their ears to the ground.

"Of course. Snakes are go!" Cal, Beater for the Slytherin Team, declared cheerfully as Tobias merely groaned and Tanith smirked, albeit a little reluctantly.

"I never will understand all the excitement surrounding a bunch of idiots flying around on broomsticks and trying to throw a ball through a hoop. The game's just for... well... idiots," he said, shaking his head.

"Hey!" Cal glowered, kicking Tobias' shins lightly. "This is my first game! Don't you want to see me play?"

Tobias raised an eyebrow, then glanced at Tanith and Gabriel conspiratorially. "I rest my case."

Tanith swatted at his arm lightly. "Play nice, Grey. Quidditch is worthwhile. Besides, it's fun to watch," she pointed out, shrugging. "And we may get to see Gryffindor get pounded into the dirt."

Gabriel smirked. "Depends on whether or not Flint's whipped them into shape enough. Higgs seemed to have a few choice words to say about the line-up for Saturday... doesn't seem to think Montague's good enough."

"Oh, from the thousand and one practices, it's been made quite clear that Higgs has issues with being passed up for captain. Thing is, Flint has three more seasons in him, and Higgs only has one. It makes more sense this way," Cal mused, scratching his neck again. He'd been doing that on and off since Friday, and it was beginning to annoy everyone else.

"Right, so Higgs has issues and Flint is a prat. Didn't we already know all this?" Tobias asked, smirking vaguely and very hopefully... and in vain. "You'd have thought they'd have been a bit more secretive, too. I mean, anyone could eavesdrop on their tactics at this rate."

"Yes, because they talk about it loudly... in the Slytherin common room. Know any Slytherins who are liable to spill the beans?" Gabriel pointed out, a little haughtily. He and Tobias exchanged a glare for a minute before Doyle decided to smooth that bit over a touch. "Besides, you know those two. Flint probably thinks that 'subtle' is a herb, and Higgs has no reason to worry about Flint's captaincy being undermined."

Tobias rolled his eyes, then rubbed them wearily. "What a tangled web Slytherin house weaves..."

§

Tanith did her best to keep alert as she cautiously measured the amount of asphodel she was preparing to tip into the cauldron she and Doyle were sharing. She could hear snickering over her shoulder from further back where Andy Harding and Nick Wilson were working discreetly, and knew that, as a part of the Slytherin group that had declared war on them and the current partner of He Who Had Graced Them With Bread, she wouldn't be even slightly safe from any retaliation that awaited them. Or maybe they'd get Grey and Cal.

She leant forwards slightly to eye the tall, lanky blonde boy and his shorter, more solidly built partner as they bickered quietly over their potion. Snape had charged them with making a sleeping draught, and any he deemed to be sub-par would doubtless be tested on its creator. Of course, generally only Gryffindors had to worry about this, but Tanith was well aware that any atrocious efforts from a Slytherin would not be casually received.

"They're going to do something," she hissed in Doyle's ear, knowing that he wouldn't bat an eyelid. He never did. Tanith prided herself on being confident and in control of any situation that was thrown at her, but never before had she been confronted with someone as insipidly worry-free as Gabriel Doyle. It was as if all concerns which bothered others would never affect him, so he didn't need to get bothered by them. And even those things which would involve him were treated as mere... hiccups in life. It was almost annoying, actually. She envied him extremely - whilst she knew she could meet most things and not bat an eyelid, he didn't seem to actually put any effort into it.

If, two years ago, she had been asked what sort of friends she would like to fall in with at Hogwarts, it wouldn't have been these three. Even at the tender age of eleven, Tanith had known the importance of making the right friends. She suspected this had more than a little to do with her networking father, who would make any connection, no matter how wrong or dodgy, if it would further himself. Of course, he'd never get involved in anything dodgy himself, but as far as he was concerned, influence and morals were quite separate. It was a mildly delusional way of going about things, but it had suited the Cole family for many years, and Tanith had been brought up believing this.

It wasn't that she'd come to Hogwarts and had expected to make friends with someone who would be the future Minister of Magic, or something that ridiculous. No, just she knew that Daedalus Cole would be fully expecting his daughter to come back with a list of people she had just encountered at school who he could add to the contact list.

Apart from Gabriel Doyle, eldest son of the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation at the Ministry, she had rather failed. Oh, she wasn't going to dwell on it - her father would hardly criticise her for not making the right friends; he'd probably just sulk and go back to one of those peculiar hobbies (apart from the contacts-list) that dogged him from time to time. Just before she'd left, he'd been trying to play the Muggle violin, which was a very odd past-time for proudly wizardly Daedalus Cole to choose. He said he just liked the sound, something Tanith doubted very much indeed, as he'd always thrown boots at cats outside when they'd insisted on making a similar noise in the middle of the night.

To be fair, it wasn't as bad as it seemed with her friends. Oh, Cal was of no use to man nor beast unless he made something of himself (and, as a Slytherin, anything was possible). But Grey... His mother had been born to the Collins family, who weren't complete mugs in the wizarding world. She knew absolutely nothing about Grey's father's family, so Melissa Collins must have married lower than her station. It wasn't a hanging offence, merely irritating.

Grey had teased her relentlessly about this almost desire to know the right people, and she supposed she deserved it. Again, her father wouldn't say anything if she didn't make contacts, nor had he said anything in the first place, but she desperately wanted to do something for him. Daedalus Cole was, she knew, a good man - or at least she believed it, in the way all little girls will think the world of their father if he treats them as if they are the most important thing in the world to them.

They were an odd group, the three of them. Cal and Grey had developed a certain amount of closeness, but there were always going to be slightly too broad differences in character for them to become best pals, Tanith was sure. Grey's subtle, deprecating sense of humour and Cal's more boisterous nature would surely be in conflict. Tanith found that, in ways, she bridged the gap between them. She could be as dry and subtle as Grey, but her outspoken attitude and absolute refusal to take nonsense from anyone connected her to Cal quite well. They were a team.

With Doyle tagging on at the back. Now he was a boy who set her nerves on edge. He seemed far older than his thirteen years, was excessively secretive and furtive, and, of course, frighteningly self-confident. He was friendly with the three of them, spent more time with them than with anyone else - and possibly spent as much time with them as they did with each other - but at the same time, there was a certain feeling to him that he was an outsider, and would keep it that way.

A small pebble striking the back of her neck jerked Tanith out of her reverie, and she almost knocked the cauldron over. This won a glare from Doyle, which she staunchly ignored, then glanced over her shoulder discreetly.

Nick Wilson and Andy Harding were paying far too much attention to their cauldron, but from the way Wilson glared at Harding, it seemed as if Tanith had not been their intended target. Doubtless they had been aiming for Doyle as a fairly light retribution for lunchtime. It seemed as if they were learning that it was not wise to pick a fight in the middle of Snape's class with members of his own house.

Tanith shook her head and glanced back. Right then, she wasn't going to give them the time of day. She had this potion to focus on, and later she'd work on humiliating them. What they'd done to Cal had been petty, and the fact that the Slytherins had failed to bring vengeance down meant that they'd got away with it.

Revenge is a dish best served cold, Tanith remembered her mother telling her. Gaia Cole had actually been a Ravenclaw, but years of living with Daedalus would be enough to send anyone fairly paranoid. No, she would leave Cal and the others to bring down whatever disastrous doom they had in mind down on the Gryffindors, and she herself would find a quieter, more subtle way of getting them for hexing her friends.

Once she thought of a way. As an only child, she wasn't all that used to pranking... which was probably a good thing, as this wasn't some cheerful teasing thing they had going on. This, if anything, was war.

A twitch of her foot knocked the stool Anne MacKenzie was leaning against as she measured her own ingredients, and she heard the Gryffindor girl curse softly as she tipped too much wormwood into her cauldron. Jennifer Riley elbowed her partner hard, then hurriedly set about trying to correct the mistake before Snape saw it. It was a petty move, but Tanith was in a petty mood.

Another pebble struck her on the back of her neck, and Tanith, irritated, wondered where the hell they were getting these pebbles. The dungeons were hardly full of stones.

Languidly, she raised her right hand and gave the two Gryffindors the V-sign. Snape was lurking somewhere in the corner and peering at Percival Anderson's slightly off-colour potion, and didn't see. Everyone said that he would overlook the indiscretions of Slytherins, but Tanith really didn't want to push it all that much. It wouldn't seem... right. Plus, it was cheap to take advantage of a situation that way. These wars had to be won by sneaking past the teachers, not parading it whenever they could get away with it.

Grey and the others didn't seem to understand that. For them, it wasn't the conflict itself but more the result of the conflict. She'd have to educate them at some point; get them to realise that it wasn't the result, it was the challenge which was the fun bit. The planning and the execution. And watching Gryffindors look like idiots just made it all sweeter. That, her father would approve of.

"Ignore them, and we'll get them later," Doyle murmured out of the corner of his mouth. "Maybe in the meantime their aim will improve, and Snape might stop lurking and actually notice it."

"Because that's fun, isn't it," she retorted, shaking her head.

"It's not about the fun," Doyle replied, as if this was obvious.

Tanith sighed and rolled her eyes. "You mean you don't take any delight from bringing those two down a peg or two?"

"Of course I do. I love seeing it happen," he said, a little defensively.

"And don't you love doing it more than you love watching Snape do it?" Tanith tried hopefully, chewing on her lower lip.

"Not really. All the same thing, isn't it?"

Tanith sighed again, shaking her head with defeat. "Boys," she mumbled under her breath. They just didn't understand.

"Hey," Grey, lurking at Doyle's elbow, hissed and poked Doyle in the ribs to catch his attention. "Where are they getting those pebbles from? They just hit Ed's cauldron - are they trying to cause a disaster here?" It was probably true that the Gryffindors hitting Edmund Montague's cauldron would be bringing doom upon themselves.

"Can't we just get this damned potion done?" Tanith replied, glowering over her shoulder at the sniggering Wilson and Harding.

"What's got you so eager to shift along all of a sudden?" Doyle asked, raising and eyebrow and looking inquisitive.

She groaned again. "I'd rather make a move once we're out of the lesson," she replied simply, shaking her head.

"Why?" Cal interjected. "Snape won't bat an eyelid whatever we do."

"Yes, but..." Tanith paused. She'd tried to explain already her reasoning for this, but as they cared more about the result than the effort itself - not taking pride in this little conflict as she did - it would probably be hard for them to get their heads around it. She focused her attention on Grey, who was most likely to get this train of thought. "Any mug can cause havoc when a teacher's turning a blind eye. It takes a bit more skill to do it discreetly and not get caught."

Doyle shook his head and chuckled quietly to himself. Tanith's head snapped over to look at him. "What?" she demanded imperiously.

He chuckled again. "We are focusing way too much on this. Just relax. They'll trip over themselves eventually. Only know that we are Slytherin, and thus superior to their Gryffindor selves."

Grey raised an eyebrow dubiously. "You're beginning to sound like bloody Warrington," he pointed out.

"They hexed me," Cal hissed irritably and forcefully. "You know, I'd like to give those buggers a piece of my mind for that. If not a piece of my wand."

"Ah, so you see that here you want to take action yourself, rather than see the results of action?" Tanith asked hopefully.

At that moment Snape swept past them from the back, having highly criticised Anderson's potion and was now eyeing MacKenzie as a possibility for his next target. He was evidently aware of their slightly excessive chatter as he swept past, for he gave them all a distinct look which was enough to knock them into silence. He overlooked Slytherin transgressions when they happened, but on the whole he tried to stop them. He wouldn't openly criticise someone from his own house except in more serious circumstances, but quite often... he wouldn't have to. They knew that Snape could make their lives very difficult without taking points off the house.

Grey shrank back a little, but not before catching Tanith's eye and mouthing "Later."

She settled back down, turning her head slightly to allow a pebble to bounce off the desk and go flying forwards into Tom Everard and Richard Keating's cauldron. Everyone seemed to claim that Slytherins started any conflicts, but Wilson and Harding were very fond of antagonising the Slytherins themselves. But, of course, everyone believed the Gryffindors. Bastards.

§

Tobias waved his wand irritably at the toothpick he was trying to turn into a needle, ignoring the sniggering coming from just over his shoulder as he did his best to focus. Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall was probably one of the most interesting subjects Hogwarts had to offer - along with Charms and, out of a vague sense of loyalty, Potions - but it wasn't made easier by the fact that the teacher was the head of the house of Gryffindor. Inter-house relations were definitely getting out of hand.

The wood was certainly getting a slightly metallic shine to it, he thought as he tapped his wand against the tiny toothpick. Cal had already lost his toothpick twice, and politely asked McGonagall for another. Others seemed to be losing them on purpose, something that irritated Tobias no end. Were they here to learn, or were they here to be petty?

A toothpick hit him in the back of the neck, and, feeling a wave of sympathy for what Tanith had had to undergo the hour before in Potions, Tobias turned around wearily to glare at Montague and Bletchley, both of who waved cheerfully at him as if nothing had happened. Instead of letting them bother McGonagall again, he leant down to pick it up and tossed it back to them.

"You dropped this," he mumbled, fixing them with a look which showed that his patience was running to an end. At the very least, Tanith had been bugged out of malice. Right now, he was being bugged by his own housemates because they knew he could be bugged when they were bored.

McGonagall stepped over towards him, doubtless on a last minute check before the lesson ended and they were set free for the day. With only seconds left, Tobias closed his eyes, pointed his wand at his slightly metallic toothpick, and concentrated hard, mumbling under his breath.

"Very good, Grey," McGonagall congratulated him as she reached the table, and picked up the new needle to show to the class. "I suggest the rest of you practice this over the week, as only one of your number has actually managed to change their toothpick suitably. Five points for Slytherin, Grey," she added, putting the needle down.

"Teacher's pet," Gabriel accused him once they were out in the corridor, companionably punching him on the arm.

"What?" Tobias demanded defensively, yet a little wearily. He knew what was coming. "I suppose there's something bad about getting points for Slytherin from the Gryffindor head, isn't there?" He looked to Cal for support, but he merely shrugged.

"No, Grey, you're right," Tanith agreed with him vaguely, paying more attention to navigating the crowds. She wasn't as tall as Tobias or the fairly lofty Gabriel, nor was she as broad-shouldered as Cal. Of them all, she was most likely to get swept away down the corridor. "Let's just get the homework done. And you can teach us how to transfigure a toothpick."

"No, you can do it by yourselves," Tobias responded sulkily. "It's not my fault if you lot were messing around in the lesson. Learn it all of your own accord. It's not that bloody difficult." He yawned discreetly, stretching a little. "Besides," he continued as they headed for the dungeons and the Slytherin common room. "I've got that charms essay due in for tomorrow to do."

"And he criticises me for doing homework late," Gabriel chuckled, shaking his head.

"No, I criticise you for spelling things wrong when you do your homework late," Tobias corrected.

"Why?" Cal asked irritably. "Why do you insist on driving us mad with that? It's not as if the teachers go to town on the wrong 'whom' and stuff."

"Exactly!" Tobias snapped, then paused as a few people glanced at him. He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. "That's my point. The wizarding world has no respect for language and such. Someone's got to correct it."

"And that person is... you?" Tanith asked, confused. "Yikes, Muggle schooling really did addle your brain."

"Mine's intact," Cal interjected cheerfully.

Gabriel shrugged as they walked through the corridor towards the patch of wall which opened to the Slytherin common room. "I don't see why you needed to go to school in the first place. Home-schooling's enough for most wizarding children."

"It was... something my father apparently insisted on. Ravenclaws are like that," Tobias replied uncomfortably, but decided to let the topic drop. They evidently weren't going to be bothered about spelling things right like he was. "Anyway, what happened to Gryffindor retribution?"

"If their revenge consisted of throwing pebbles then I'm not sure we have much to worry about. Of course, if they carry on, it may just drive me crazy," Tanith said, shaking her head. "What's the password again?" she checked as they reached the wall panel.

"Dragon Eye," Gabriel replied, stepping forwards as the panel swung aside to let them in. "They seem to be responding to thrown bread with thrown pebbles. Though their aim really could do with some work..."

"Treat like with like is what they're doing, you mean?" Cal said, slouching over towards one of the overstuffed armchairs in the corner.

"Pretty much," Gabriel said.

"Sounds as if, by those rules, we'd be quite allowed to hex them, then?" Tobias pointed out cheerfully. "Pus-filled boils, or all their hair dropping out?" he asked evilly, raising his wand and his charms book.

"Ooh, baldness," Cal begged. "You know that Wilson's such a magnificent poof that spends hours and hours making sure his hair is just right..." His voice trailed off as he realised that Gabriel and Tanith had both started to stare at Tobias' hair, and he cleared his throat hurriedly. "So... you know. That'd be a good payback."

Tobias glowered at the other two, then put the charm book down. "Right. Calvus it is, then," he declared solemnly. "Only question is, when or how are we going to get the buggers?"

Tanith looked at her wristwatch briefly. "We've got dinner in half an hour. If we can get them before then, we're less likely to be seen doing it in the hustle and bustle. Even if they know full well it was us, they're not going to tell."

Cal chuckled briefly. "Heh. Use their own sense of honour against them. Who says it's all bad to be sneaky?"

"Not me," Gabriel agreed, stretching. "Alright, so we should go. Gryffindors have Herbology now, don't they?"

"Yeah, with the Hufflepuffs, so we're going to have to move. Maybe we can get them out on the school grounds." Tobias glanced around for windows, then silently cursed the underground Slytherin common room. "It should be getting dark by now, too. Perfect for a bit of hexing."

"Then let's go," Cal declared with determination, standing up and almost dragging Tobias along with him towards the door to the common room, tightening his robes around himself a little. "You two stay here," he added to Tanith and Gabriel.

"What?" Tanith demanded incredulously. "Why?"

"Fewer numbers makes it safer," Cal explained simply.

Gabriel frowned. "So why does lanky git here get to go along with you?" he asked sulkily, pointing at a glaring Tobias.

"Because he's the only one who'll be capable of certainly getting the spell right. Unless your marks in charms have miraculously improved?" Cal asked, smiling sweetly. It was obvious nobody was going to challenge his right to go along - after all, this was to be retribution for his being hexed in the first place.

Outside, Tobias and Cal breathed simultaneous sighs of relief as they glanced at each other. "That could have exploded nastily," Grey pointed out, folding his arms across his chest and picking up the pace towards the main doors. They would have to move fast if they were to intercept the Gryffindors.

"Nah, they'll take it. Besides, gives them more time to worry about their precious house politics," Cal reminded him, pocketing his wand. "You're sure you can do this, right?" he checked.

"No, I just assume I can," Tobias replied dryly, frowning, not looking at Cal as they ascended the stairs. "But anything to get those Gryffindor idiots back, right? They'll learn that they don't hex us and get away with it."

"Watch it, the sentiment of 'trying your best' is distinctly Hufflepuff. We're meant to be evil, remember?" Cal joked, elbowing his friend.

"Ah yes! And something this is pretty daring - a Gryffindor sentiment - and requires smarts - Ravenclaw qualities. We should probably go back to the common room and sit and scheme for a bit, don't you think," Tobias said dryly, smirking.

There was silence as they made their way through the emptying corridors and arrived at the Main Entrance. They stepped outside into the darkening grounds, just managing to avoid the eye of Mrs Norris, the caretaker Filch's cat. Far away in the Herbology greenhouses, the light was still evident and, just before that, they could make out the silhouettes of approaching students. The duo wordlessly came to a halt just at the foot of the stairs leading to the Main Entrance, waiting.

"Tobias?" Cal asked after a few seconds of silence and more approaching Gryffindors.

"Yes?" Grey replied, not having much patience for these sorts of stop-and-start conversations.

"You know the Gryffindors?"

Tobias rolled his eyes. "No, Cal, I don't have a clue who you mean. I don't have a clue who we're here to come and hex. I don't have a damned idea what you're going on about." He glanced at Cal, who was looking a little reproachful, and sighed. "What about them?"

"Are we really all that different to them?"

This question brought Tobias' sarcastic rambling to a halt, and he blinked quickly, staring at his friend. "Cal, why the hell did you pick now, of all times, to ask that question? It's not about being different, this is merely a question of payback."

"Oh, I'm not having second thoughts," the Welshman assured his friend. "I'm just saying, you know... Gabe and Tanith sort of view them as lesser forms of life, sort of scum to be stepped on."

"Half of that is because Wilson's a Muggle-born," Tobias pointed out.

"Makes us bigoted, doesn't it," Cal mumbled sulkily. Tobias knew that this Will Rayner, his foster father, was a Muggle born. Tobias hadn't yet dared to reveal to the world that Robert Grey, the father he had never known yet aspired to be, was similarly not from a wizarding family.

Why, Grey? You're ashamed of someone you've been trying to emulate your whole life?

He shook his head. Now wasn't the time for this. "Nope. We're not against Wilson because he's Muggle-born - we're against pureblood Harding just as much. They might not view it that way, but we know this." Tobias glanced at Cal. "And it's not that simple anyway. Remember being hexed? It's actions, not people."

Cal considered this for a few moments. "I guess you're right. Just seems we spend an awful amount of time cooking up ways to get at them."

Tobias shrugged. "I'm sure they do the same for us." He paused, thinking hard, then glared at Cal. "Damn you, you bloody insane Welshman," he sighed at last. They met each others' eyes for a moment, then nodded slowly. "You want to head back to the common room?"

"Yeah," Cal mumbled. "Just need to find something convincing to tell Tanith and Gabe," he pointed out.

"Ah, just say that Filch was on the loose and spotted us. It's pretty surprising we've actually got a window for opportunity here as it is; they won't be suspicious." Tobias shrugged. "We'll get Wilson and Harding later. I'm not in the mood now," he said, turning to go.

"And what do you two think you're doing lurking around here?" a voice from over their shoulder called out, and they whirled around to see that the Gryffindors had somehow reached them without their noticing as they had chatted.

"Yeah," Nick Wilson added to Andy Harding's accusation. "Seems sort of... Slytherin-y suspicious to me."

Richard Keating, their short, skinny red-haired class-mate, placed a hand on either of their shoulders. "Guys? We should get back to the common room. Got to clean up before dinner, and soil gets everywhere..."

Harding brushed his hand off. "In a bit, Richard. Let us have a word with our friends here first," he insisted, glancing at the other Gryffindors. The Hufflepuffs they had been sharing their lesson with had already walked past, and the Gryffindors, not wanting to get involved in what they knew to be an everlasting vendetta, were quick to follow them, Keating giving Tobias a warning look as he departed.

"We were just leaving," Cal said sullenly, shaking his head and moving towards the door in the wake of the Gryffindors. "Wanted a bit of fresh air before dinner... Potions and Transfiguration classrooms one after the other can get a bit musty."

Wilson shrugged. "Where's your buddy Doyle?" he asked adamantly. "Hiding as always, not willing to show his face?"

Tobias and Cal exchanged glances. "I think he had a Charms essay to finish off. He's always pretty late at getting work done," Tobias replied dryly, chuckling a little.

"Hmm." Wilson nodded slowly, still eyeing them belligerently. "Tell him thanks for the bread."

"And I'm sure Tanith thanks you for the pebbles. And tells you to improve your aim," Cal retorted, then glanced at Tobias. "It's cold out here. Let's head up for dinner."

"So there was no point to your lurking, I see," Harding mused. "I wonder if -"

He never quite got around to finishing that sentence as an explosion from one of the nearby bushes was heard and two Hufflepuffs shot out, their faces black and hair singed. Everyone stared at each other for a few long moments before the Hufflepuff fourth-years shook their heads, mumbled something and disappeared through the main entrance.

The four first-years exchanged suspicious glances. Tobias blinked. "What the bloody hell was that -"

Again an interruption came as Mrs Norris bounded down the stairs, eyeing them evilly. She mewed, her bedraggled tail twitching, then hissed at them. From within the Main Entrance, shadows could be seen twitching, and a voice called out, the words indistinct but the source unmistakeable. Argus Filch.

"Now might be a good time to peg it," Cal hissed, grabbing Tobias by the arm and dragging him further back in the shadows, unintentionally towards the frozen Gryffindors they had been facing off a few seconds earlier.

"Why?" Harding asked. "We didn't do anything!"

"That doesn't matter to Filch, you plonker!" Cal said, shaking him a little. "Suggest leaving, now," he insisted, turning and fleeing without even waiting for Tobias to follow, though he and the two Gryffindors were close behind as they disappeared into the darkness.

Filch's shouting could still be heard behind them, and they had made the slight mistake of taking the path dangerously close towards the lake, which would be an effective dead end unless they found a better route.

"You prat, this is the wrong way," Tobias hissed at Cal as they skidded to a halt before the murky depths of the lake. "We should have cut back towards the castle; we'd have had a better chance in the corridors, especially if we made it to the crowds." He thwacked Cal on the back of the head.

Wilson sighed and shook his head. "Don't you Slyths know anything?" he sighed, and exchanged a knowing glance with Harding. "The grounds are better to hide in. It's dark, a torch doesn't give us away if we keep enough of a distance... just use your head."

"Oi!"

Filch's shout from much closer than they had thought galvanised them into action, and they hurtled off like surprised rabbits. It might not have been the best idea to split up, but acting on instinct Wilson hurried towards the edges of the Forbidden Forest with Tobias, and Harding and Cal disappeared somewhere in the gloom around the far side of the lake.

Tobias ran as fast as he could, his long legs carrying him over a greater distance than Wilson, but he had a solid grip on the Gryffindor's shoulder and practically dragged him along behind him, not planning on leaving his usual antagonist behind for Filch to find. That wasn't the name of the game.

Wilson slowed down a little and tugged on his arm as they approached the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. "In here, you dozy git," he hissed in Tobias' ear, grabbing him and yanking him into a large bush to their left. Filch, even if he was chasing them, was too far behind to see them disappear, and would probably assume they had headed into the Forbidden Forest.

"Just stay silent," Wilson whispered as they lay flat in the bush. "Only risk is if Mrs Norris smells us... try to stay scent-free, you stinky Slyth."

Tobias snorted. "I would have thought that the aura of self-righteousness following you Gryffindors would have been enough to alert Filch to our presence. Maybe you should lower your moral high ground."

"I could have left you to run on alone back there, you know," Wilson exclaimed quietly but indignantly.

"And I could have outrun you and left you behind for Filch to find!" Tobias pointed out.

Wilson paused, frowning. "This is true. Why didn't you?"

"Because..." Tobias stopped, looking a little insulted that Wilson could question him like that, but still unable to think up a suitable response. "Because... the aim isn't to try and get you prats into trouble, it's to try and humiliate you of our own accord!" he explained falteringly. "You wouldn't have abandoned us to Filch, would you."

"Well, no... but..." Wilson shifted a little, pushing the leaves of the bushes aside to ensure that Filch wasn't too close. "You're Slytherins."

"And having ambitions and being cunning means that we can't possibly have a vague sense of honour?" Tobias challenged quietly. "We do play by rules as well. Of course, there are thugs like Montague and Bletchley, but that's not all of us!" He paused, searching for the words. "The thuggish and pettier Slytherins overshadow the more decent specimens."

"You haven't been overshadowed," Wilson mumbled.

"Thank you," Tobias replied, taking it as a compliment. "But that's not true. Everyone knows about Montague and Bletchley, and that bitch Melanie Larkin. How many people who haven't had direct contact with us would know our names?"

Filch's voice suddenly cutting through the darkness shushed them into silence for a few seconds, and Wilson flattened himself against the grass as the torch light played across the grounds and threatened to penetrate their shield of bushes.

"Going to catch you, yes... have to ask Professor Dumbledore if I can still use those chains in the dungeons for students blowing up bushes... might even get the help of that great oaf Hagrid for damaging his precious grounds... and..."

The torch light shifted around, and as Filch's footsteps drew closer to their location and they stiffened, a loud shriek was heard back in the direction they had come from... a yowl which was unmistakeable as a cat's cry.

"Mrs Norris!" Filch shouted, forgetting his chase as the sound of his distraught pet was heard, and Wilson and Tobias fell silent as his footsteps carried the caretaker away from their hiding spot. They waited wordlessly for a few more minutes, making sure he wasn't going to return, before crawling out of the bush.

"Well, that was lucky," Tobias commented, brushing himself down. "I wonder what happened?"

"Who cares?" Wilson chuckled. "I'm just hungry. Come on, or we'll be late for dinner and Filch will put two and two together." They walked in silence towards the light of the castle, Wilson looking pensive for a few moments. "Hope Andy and Brynmor didn't get caught."

"I doubt they did, mind. If Filch was chasing after us, then they should have been able to slip away," Tobias said helpfully.

"Heh. I'm assuming Brynmor didn't abandon Andy, then," Wilson mused.

"He's no more likely to than I," Tobias replied haughtily. The light of the castle was close, and as they ascended the stairs back into the main entrance, they saw Harding and Cal standing at the threshold, almost leaning against each other as they howled with laughter, tears running down their faces.

"Hmm. The Welshman must have driven him insane," Wilson said, frowning a little as he and Tobias eyed the other two dubiously.

"Did... did you hear..." Cal tried to straighten up as he was paralysed with laughter, and could hardly gasp through his chuckles. "...Did you hear Mrs Norris's yowling back there?"

Tobias and Wilson exchanged glances again, then nodded. "It sent Filch running after her," Wilson said slowly.

Harding laughed even louder, slapping his thighs as he and Cal managed to stand up straight. "Well... that was us..."

Again, Tobias and Wilson looked nonplussed.

Cal raised his wand and then pocketed it, sniggering as he tapped his nose. "Calvus. Filch... Filch... has a bald cat now!" he managed to gasp, before he and Harding collapsed, sniggering, all over again, and as realisation dawned on the other two, it wasn't all that long before they, too, became paralysed with laughter along with them. It sure as hell wasn't the start of a friendship, but it was probably the beginning of a toning down of such an intense vendetta.