Detective Work

When Paul and Rachel Clearwater came into the Ravenclaw common room, they looked very thoughtful. This was nothing unusual in Ravenclaw House; as the home of the most intellectually inclined students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it held some of the most thought-prone students in the school. In fact, the house’s reputation for getting lost in one’s thoughts was so well-known that members of other houses who visibly did so were likely to be teased for "imitating a Ravenclaw."

Only a few of their housemates were around; Cho Chang was going over an essay for Transfiguration, while the chair near the fireplace was occupied by Nick Cleveland, a fifth-year student. He looked up as the siblings came in. "Ah, welcome, welcome. I heard about your little set-to with the Slytherins. Glad to see that you came out of it in one piece."

The Clearwaters and their friends had the grace to look shamefaced. Cleveland snapped his book shut and sat up. "Did it ever occur to you that Luella Martin’s almost certainly a fall-girl?" He quirked a sardonic grin.

"A fall-girl?" Rachel Clearwater looked confused. "Why do you say that, Nick?"

Nick tossed his book onto a table and stood up. "Firstly, the Heir of Slytherin’s almost certainly targeting Muggle-born students. Luella, if you didn’t know, is Muggle-born herself." At their nods, he went on: "In fact, I’m pretty sure that her downfall was set up by the real Heir of Slytherin, to provide cover for himself. If everybody thinks the menace is gone, the Heir can operate in peace. I even think I’ve got a line on who the Heir really is."

"Really? Who?" Paul Clearwater looked slightly skeptical. "Let’s hear your reasoning, O Great Detective."

Nick grinned again. "Hearkening and obedience, O Soon-To-Be-Awed Non-Detectives." He went on, ticking off points on his fingers. "Well, I started with what is known about Salazar Slytherin himself. He was a great wizard---Hogwarts, A History was most informative---but greatly prejudiced against Muggles and Muggle-borns. To be fair to him, he lived in times when Muggles and wizards got along like cats and dogs. It would be totally against his nature to operate through any Muggle-born, and I took the liberty of checking Luella Martin’s background. If she has any wizard relatives, I can’t find them."

"Actually, I’ve heard she does have some distant cousins who are magical. But you’re right---I don’t think they’d count. The Weasleys have a second cousin who’s non-magical, but nobody doubts their pure-blood status." Cho Chang had come around to listen, and a few of the other Ravenclaws had filtered in, including Nick’s girlfriend, Melinda Yang. Melinda and Cho exchanged dark looks---despite sharing an Oriental heritage, the girls detested each other heartily. The other Ravenclaws were gathered around, rapt. This was just suited to the Ravenclaw mindset---working from known facts to get to a conclusion that might not be obvious at first glance. "In any case, here-and-now, she’d be considered Muggle-born---what people like the Malfoys would call Mudblood." He spread his hands. "So that pretty much eliminates her, since, if anything, modern standards on that point are less strict than they were in Slytherin’s day."

"Okay, you’ve convinced us that she couldn’t be the Heir of Slytherin. However, we do have a little problem with people being paralyzed, and graffiti proclaiming these attacks to be the work of the Heir of Slytherin. Who do you think it is?" Rachel had gotten out a piece of parchment and a Dicta-Quill, and was noting down the points that Nick was making.

"Okay, we’ve got attacks attributed to the Heir of Slytherin, or at least someone who identifies with the causes Slytherin is identified with. They’ve only started this year, though. Luella Martin’s been here for what---four years? If she had wanted to attack people, she’s had a lot longer than just now to do it."

Nick raised a finger. "So, we’re looking for somebody who’s pureblooded. That, alone, eliminates a good many of the pupils, as well as the teachers. Purebloods are thin on the ground, nowadays. Maybe a fourth of us here at Hogwarts could call ourselves reasonably pure-blooded."

Melinda Yang piped up: "But a fourth of the school is still over two hundred people, Nick. You’ll have to reduce it more." Nick smiled at her, the rare smile he reserved only for her, and she smiled back.

"Too true. As far as I can find out, there was some sort of attack back in the 1940s---a girl died, and somebody or other was expelled. That’s about fifty years ago, and the records I’ve been able to access haven’t been too clear about just what happened, or even who was involved." Nick looked thoughtful. "Hmmm…I wonder if the ghosts know anything? I’d bet they do, now that I think about it, and they might well tell me if I ask ‘em nicely enough!" He brightened at the thought, and then went back to his train of thought. "However, we’re dealing with attacks here-and-now, aren’t we---and there’s no real proof that attacks fifty years ago had anything to do with a monster Salazar Slytherin left behind, now is there?"

"True," murmured Paul Clearwater. "I think that we should deal with the current problem and any past troubles separately, in the absence of proof that they’ve got anything in common."

"Correct, Paul." Nick leaned back and crossed his ankles on the table, admiring the beadwork on the Sioux Indian winter-style high moccasins he preferred to wear. The beaded design on the tops, of the Ravenclaws’ heraldic bird done in American Indian style, glinted slightly in the light. "So, we’re not going to worry about attacks in the past, since we can’t be sure that they’ve got anything to do with what’s going on now. Now, we’re looking for a pureblooded wizard or witch. What else can we say about this pureblood?"

"He---or she," with a nervous glance at the girls, "would have to be pretty powerful. I’m not sure what would be able to paralyze people, not to mention a cat and a ghost," said Paul. Nick nodded in approval.

"Right you are! I will admit, I’m not sure what kind of attacks these have been myself, but it would have to involve pretty powerful magic to do any harm to a ghost!" said Nick. Melinda noted the point down. "In any case, we can eliminate firsties and second-years."

"Firsties and second-years?" asked Rachel. "Why would you even suspect a firstie?"

"The attacks only started this year. Now, a real live Heir of Slytherin who wanted to eliminate the ‘Mudbloods’ would start in on it about as soon as he could. At least, that’s what I gather from Hogwarts: A History, as well as the biographies of Salazar Slytherin I was looking at in the library." Nick grinned mirthlessly. "Old Salazar was many things, but a patient man he was not!"

"Right. Besides, a firstie or second-year---heck, anybody much below N.E.W.T. level---wouldn’t be able to master spells of that power. So, we’re looking for a powerful wizard, but one that’s only just arrived." Melinda Yang suddenly looked horrified. "Oh, gods, Nick, you don’t mean---"

Nick nodded solemnly. "I do mean."

"Not---Professor Lockhart! But---but he’s so famous for fighting Dark wizards! Why would he do things like that if he were the Heir of Slytherin?" gasped Rachel Clearwater. From her expression, she was grasping for any straws she could to stave off the conclusion that Nick Cleveland had come to.

Nick looked pityingly at the girls. "Look---in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts it sets forth in pretty plain language that Dark wizards don’t get along with each other. The Dark Lord was very much the exception, with his Death Eaters---and they were more flunkies than possible rivals, from what I’ve read. Being the Heir of Slytherin wouldn’t stop somebody from fighting other Dark wizards and beasties---if anything, he’d probably want to eliminate possible rivals!"

The result of Cleveland’s reasoning was interesting. One and all, the boys accepted his rationale for suspecting Professor Lockhart, while the girls chorused objections. Every objection they could raise, however, was shot down in a second or two, leaving the objectors deflated.

"Yes, he’s teaching here, which means that Professor Dumbledore trusts him. Didn’t Professor Dumbledore trust Professor Quirrell---and don’t you remember what happened to Professor Quirrell? I’m a firm admirer of Professor Dumbledore myself," giving Rachel Clearwater and Cho Chang a very firm stare, quelling their mutinous protests, "but let’s face it, he’s not infallible by any means. If he were here, he’d be the first to admit it, I’m sure."

Cho Chang objected: "But why is he here, then? Teaching Defence---"

"But why would he want to take a job teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, if he’s the Heir of Slytherin? Use your loaf, for the gods’ sake, Cho!" Melinda shot Cho a triumphant smile, as Nick went on: "Let’s face it, people---what have we really learned about actual Defence Against the Dark Arts since he’s been here?"

"Uh, nothing much, I have to admit," muttered Melinda Yang. "Mostly, it’s hearing about things he says he did." There were mutters of agreement all through the common room; many of the Ravenclaws had come in from the library to find an interesting discussion going on, and, being Ravenclaws, had pulled up chairs and started listening in.

"Right. Now, if I were faced with, say, a kappa, which we were supposed to have covered, I’d not have the slightest clue about what to do about it---if I hadn’t read up on them on my own time, that is. Same-same goes for the Unforgivable Curses. What have we heard about those, so far?"

:"Nothing," came back the response. Nick nodded.

"Precisely, my friends. If Professor Lockhart keeps on the way he’s going, there’ll be a whole generation or so of young wizards and witches who’re completely clueless about how to actually defend themselves against the users of Dark Magic." He fixed the girls with a cold stare, and they wriggled in embarrassment. "Of course, at least the witches will know all the fine details of Gilderoy Lockhart’s so-called exploits---exploits which I, for one, am not sure ever actually happened!"

This last produced a shout of protest, which was quelled by Pat Chisholm, one of the Ravenclaw prefects. Shoving her way through the crowd, she stabbed a finger into Nick’s chest. "Explain that, Cleveland---and it had best be awfully good!"

To her surprise, Nick Cleveland not only didn’t back down or act cowed, he rose to his feet, giving her back stare for stare. He was as tall as Pat was, and had learned to radiate menace at will---he never spoke of it much, but his life prior to Hogwarts had not been pleasant at all. "Oh, I will, Patricia. However, you will sit and listen quietly, and don’t ever dare threaten me again---I know more curses and nastiness than you ever heard of! Do not meddle with the affairs of the paranoid, for we are heavily armed and have no sense of humour!" His voice had gone deadly calm and even, which was known to be a Very Bad Sign.

Pat Chisholm backed off slightly, and Nick subsided in his turn. In the sudden silence, Melinda Yang muttered: "Do not meddle in the affairs of the paranoid for we are heavily armed and have no sense of humour? Great line, Nick! Consider it stolen!" A general laugh broke the surface of the tension that had suddenly developed; Nick Cleveland was known for coming up with a good line when he needed one. It was said that he had managed to make Professor Snape laugh in the middle of a Potions class with a well-timed quip.

Suppressing a chuckle by main force of will, Pat asked: "Okay. What’s your line of reasoning saying that Professor Lockhart didn’t really do all the things he says he did in his books?"

"Simple. Firstly, I haven’t been able to find any firsthand witnesses to any thing he says he did---I’ve been owling around here and there, and asking connections of mine in the Foreign Liaisons section at the Ministry of Magic." At the nods signaling that this was valid, Nick went on: "Secondly---a lot of his stories don’t make sense. Who ever heard of werewolves operating in packs, the way he says they do in one of his books?"

"That would be Gadding with Ghouls, I believe," murmured Rachel Clearwater. "You do have a point there, Nick. Go on."

"He also says he did things that, if he actually did do them, should have been suicide. Let’s face it---we’re not full-fledged wizards and witches yet, are we?" A bunch of head-shakes greeted this question. "Okay---which of us would deliberately hunt for a werewolf, or for several of them, on the night of the full moon?" He looked around. "Not to mention, using weapons that aren’t made of silver against werewolves? Give me a break!"

"True enough," murmured Felix Lupin, staring into the fire as though mesmerised. "You’re absolutely right about that, Cleveland."

Nick pointed to the big pile of Gilderoy Lockhart books he had stacked on a nearby table. Each of them was thickly stuffed with bookmarks. "I’ve gone through those, and marked the places where either I should have been able to get independent confirmation of his feats, or else things that, frankly, make no sense whatsoever. The man can write, I’ll grant that---but, blimey, who in his or her right mind would go into a crypt full of vampires, at night, on the dark of the moon, without even garlic or silver or religious icons?" He tapped Voyages with Vampires significantly.

The Ravenclaws picked up the books, several of them looking at each one. Murmurs of agreement came from the knots of people as they looked at the parts Cleveland had marked. Watching the plot he had made unfold, Cleveland smiled to himself; only Melinda Yang, the one person at Hogwarts to whom he was close, noticed.

"You’re up to something, aren’t you?" she whispered in his ear. He looked at her, relishing the sight of her big dark eyes, shining with intelligence and malicious humour, framed in her delicately-carved face. "Yes, you are---I know that look! And no, this time it isn’t a plot to take me up to the Astronomy Tower some dark night to show me how to see Heaven, either." She smiled reminiscently. Cleveland gave her a wide, too-innocent smile.

"Why, Melinda, I’m surprised at you! How could you think that I’m up to something underhanded?"

"How could I think that? I know you, that’s how. You told me you were nearly Sorted into Slytherin, and you do have a lot of friends in the Serpents’ Nest. You’re Up To Something, Nicholas Cleveland---and I bet I know what it is!" She leaned closer and whispered in his ear: :"You want to get rid of Professor Lockhart, don’t you?"

Cleveland nodded. Leaning closer, he whispered: "I’m not really nearly as sure that Professor Lockhart is the person responsible as I’m letting on, but getting rid of him is something that wants doing for its own sake. The man’s a fraud, Melinda love, and…I don’t want to fail my NEWTs because my teacher’s an incompetent!"

Melinda nodded, understanding him completely. The Ravenclaws took pride in usually sweeping the NEWTs, and they took them more seriously than many other students. When Percy Weasley had done well, and had beaten the Ravenclaws in his year, the Ravenclaw common room had been sunk in gloom. Many Ravenclaws took the OWLs and NEWTs far more seriously than they did the House Cup or the Quidditch Cup.

"So," she whispered, leaning close, "you are starting off a plausible rumour implicating him? Just because you want a competent Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

Nick nodded. "Not much else I can do, love-of-my-life. The Headmaster probably wouldn’t listen to me, and neither would the school governors. If I can stir up the old rumour mill in here to the point where it gets to the parents’ ears, he’ll have to go, no matter how popular he is." He shrugged. "And, besides, although I started putting the theory together out of malice---it does fit the known facts fairly well, doesn’t it?"

Melinda nodded, eyes dancing with mischief. She picked up a copy of Holidays with Hags, and wrote rapidly on the title page. "Here---I’ve annotated this so that the title makes more sense." Nick raised his eyebrows as he read:

Holidays with Hags

or,

How Cho Chang and I spend

the School Holidays together

in a Back-Street Hotel

by

Gilderoy Lockhart

Giggling quietly, Melinda slipped it into Cho Chang’s bookbag, from whence she had abstracted it. "I wonder what she’ll do when she sees it?" Nick shrugged his shoulders, his eyes dancing with the light of mischief.

"Beats me." They exited to the library, and went from there to the Great Hall. It didn’t take long---about five minutes after they got there, a furious Cho Chang burst into the Hall, waving the book over her head and swearing in Korean.

"Where is she? Where is the spotty little cow?" shrieked Cho. "I’ll tear her head off and stuff it up her…there she is!" She threw herself at Melinda Yang, who ducked behind a clump of sixth-year Hufflepuffs, laughing hysterically. The Hufflepuffs grabbed Cho and held her back.

"Hey, easy does it, what’s wrong?" one of them asked. Cho shrieked, waving the book under their noses.

"Look! Look what she did to my book!" The Hufflepuffs, curious, gathered around to see the altered title-page. When they absorbed what had been put down, they all started laughing like drains. Cho went from red to white and back to red, and yanked the book back.

Melinda gave them her best little-girl-lost look, knowing that it tended to disarm all males. "I was just clarifying the subject!"

"You called me a hag! And you said that I…as if I’d do something like that, and with a teacher, too!" Cho lunged for Melinda’s throat, only to be grabbed and pulled back by one of the Hufflepuffs.

Melinda gave Cho a poisonously sweet smile. "Well, darling, I could have told the world that you’re a well-known raving hobosexual." At this, Cho subsided, looking slightly puzzled, but still furious.

"What do you mean? I’m perfectly straight!"

"No, darling---and, sweetheart, have you considered having your ears syringed out? Your hearing is getting bad!" Cho gibbered for a second, as Melinda paused to plant the barb where it would do the most good. "What I called you, darling, was a hobosexual! In other words, you’d be a bum lay!"

At this crowning insult, Cho tore loose from her restrainers with a banshee shriek and went for Melinda, who was eager for battle in her own turn. Wands forgotten, the girls tore at each other, each demonstrating that she was well up in the martial arts. Alternating grappling moves with throws and punches, they fought ferociously, each trying to do the most damage she could to her opponent. The surrounding students cheered them on, and Nick heard some of the Slytherins making bets on who’d win.

All of a sudden, the cheering died down, and Nick looked up to see Professor Snape looking down at the cat-fight, his dark eyes cold and hooded. His lazy drawl even managed to get through to the combatants: "I trust that you two have a good reason for this---this unseemly display?"" A sneer in his voice, he went on: "Are you ‘practicing your Defence Against The Dark Arts moves,’ or is this a purely extracurricular fight?"

Cho let off trying to pound Melinda’s head into the floor, and Melinda gave up punching Cho in the stomach. They stood up, side by side, both of them looking terribly disheveled, bruised and bloodied. Cho came forward first.

"Please, sir, it was all my fault. Melinda was teasing me, and---I guess I sort of lost my temper." She held out the book that Melinda had altered. Professor Snape took it and took in what it said on the altered title page. His eyes widened, and Nick could have sworn that he saw Snape trying to suppress a laugh.

:"Did you write this, Miss Yang?" At the direct question, Melinda nodded, wiping at her mouth where a runnel of blood was trickling down from her nose. "Very well. Fifteen points from Ravenclaw, I think---apiece---and, in addition, a detention for both of you." He turned to go, then turned back to Melinda, holding out the book. "Miss Yang---since you saw fit to deface Miss Chang’s book, you may provide her with your own copy to replace it, and use this one. And ten more points from Ravenclaw." He turned and swept away, his cloak spreading behind him like a great pair of wings.

Nick took Melinda aside. "Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey. You come along too, Cho," he added; although he loved Melinda best, he had nothing against Cho Chang, and, besides, he did want Ravenclaw to do well in the Quidditch matches. Although he disliked playing Quidditch himself---his own attitude was "Why should I spoil a wonderful flight by trying to chase a stupid ball?" he had a good-sized bet on with some of the Slytherins, and losing it, not to mention having to listen to them crowing about winning, wasn’t his idea of a desirable outcome.

As they walked off to the infirmary, Melinda leaned close to Nick, and in a whisper so low that only he could hear it, said: "It was worth it, worth it! What a triumph!" Madam Pomfrey was quite puzzled to see a girl who looked like she’d been doing all-in wrestling with Hagrid being led in, laughing her head off.

* * * * *

Over the next few days, the story of the big catfight spread through the school. Nick found himself sought out as an actual eyewitness and boyfriend of one of the perpetrators, and kept the record about the fight straight while being sure to plant his little seeds of his theory about Professor Lockhart.

Deanna Tyler was agog. "A big fight---between Ravenclaws? And I wasn’t there to see it!" she mourned. She gave Nick a very slantendicular look, managing somehow to look very like Professor Snape would have when confronted with a bad potion. "Are you sure that you didn’t have anything to do with it, Nick Cleveland?"

Nick looked innocent. "Not this time---cross my heart and hope to die!" He noticed Marlie Lovegood fingering something she seemed to be wearing under her shirt, and giving Deanna a subtle thumbs-up signal. He made a mental note to look into that sometime, but went on: "That prank was all Melinda’s, from first inception to ultimate triumph. She’s pretty over the moon about it---she and Cho never could get along for ten minutes."

Deanna dissolved in giggles. "I’ve got to say, I wish I had thought of that myself!" Marlie looked sulky; Nick guessed that she was still one of Lockhart’s admirers, although the Slytherins’ demonstration of disapproval at his announcement of Luella Martin’s disgrace had rapidly become school legend. Her dark eyes alight, Deanna leaned close and murmured: "However, she didn’t know something we do. Did you know that Professor Lockhart fancies Professor Snape?"

Nick’s eyes went very wide. "No---and I hope Professor Snape doesn’t fancy him back! I’d hate to have to study Potions under a master who’d lost his wits that badly!" The mere thought of Professor Lockhart fancying Professor Snape made him feel slightly queasy.

Marlie snickered maliciously. "You know, if it weren’t for the teacher/pupil factor, Professor Lockhart and Cho Chang would be perfect for each other. They could spend the long, passionate nights stroking and caressing their big, bloated---"she paused for effect---"egos." Both Slytherin girls dissolved in giggles, and Nick joined in, chortling to himself. He knew that Marlie had been one of the best Seekers Slytherin had ever had, and was still a Seeker on the Slytherin Reserve team. Apparently, she resented Cho because she was still on the Ravenclaw main team.

Judging that the time was right, Nick plunged in: "Did you know that I’ve a theory that the Heir of Slytherin is Professor Lockhart?" At both girls’ wide-eyed head-shakes, he plunged in, sketching out his train of logic.

When he was done, he was rather puzzled at their expressions. They didn’t look so much convinced as delighted to have a new weapon in their hands. Of course, he thought, they are Luella Martin’s mates! If Lockhart was the Heir, Luella couldn’t be, and that would mean that she might have a chance to get reinstated in Hogwarts. He raised his hand to caution them.

:"If you want to tell other people about this, be my guests," he warned, "but don’t tell them where you heard it!" Nodding rapidly, their eyes dancing with mischief, the two fourth-years got up to leave, and Nick nodded to himself. He knew them. They were Slytherins, and Slytherins with a fallen comrade to avenge. The rumour would be all over the school in very short order, and hopefully it wouldn’t be traced back to him!

* * * * *

The rumour became general knowledge at a speed that secretly delighted Nick. Within a week or so, the titillating idea that Lockhart was the true Heir of Slytherin, and had contrived Luella Martin’s downfall when she either wouldn’t join him or wouldn’t succumb to his obscene embraces and disgusting caresses was known even to the first-year Hufflepuffs, who were, by general consent, considered the most clueless people in Hogwarts.

However, Nick had forgotten that Professor Snape had been an adept intriguer before he was even born. He heard the rumours, from a shocked and delighted Bloody Baron, and put the ghosts to work to figure out who had started them. One day, as the fifth-year Ravenclaws’ Double Potions was coming to an end, Professor Snape called Cleveland to his desk. "Mr. Cleveland, I want to have a private word with you. Go on," he said to the others, who were curious---Nick Cleveland usually got along well with Professor Snape, and was known to actively enjoy Potions class---"get on out of here. This is to be private."

Feeling slightly worried, Nick followed Professor Snape into his office. Shutting the door behind them, Professor Snape sat down behind his desk, his pet raven looking at Nick with black eyes that reminded Nick of Professor Snape.

Steepling his hands in front of his face, Professor Snape drawled: "It has come to my attention, Mr. Cleveland, that there are rumours floating around this castle that one of the teachers is the Heir of Slytherin, and is responsible for the recent attacks. Can you clarify this?"

Nick put on his best poker-face, and thought frantically. "Well, sir, I have heard something of the sort. There are several versions going the rounds, though---one of them is that Professor Lockhart is the Heir, and engineered Luella Martin’s dismissal for---shall we say---not greeting his advances with the ecstasy he seems to feel should always be his due." Professor Snape raised his eyebrows very high; he hadn’t heard that one yet.

In any case, he had his duty as a teacher to do, however distasteful it was. "The ghosts tell me that these rumours seem to be traceable---back to Ravenclaw, and specifically to you." He speared Nick with a glare. "Answer me, boy! Are you fomenting false rumors?"

Nick gave him back glare for glare, and decided on a bold counterattack."I’ll admit, I came up with the original theory that Professor Lockhart’s the Heir of Slytherin, but the clues do seem to point right at him!" Professor Snape’s eyes went very wide as Nick went on, outlining his theory. "I’ve been spreading the word among my friends, so that we don’t get caught unaware. If people embellish the rumour, that’s hardly my fault!"

Professor Snape subsided, honestly gobsmacked. How did talent like this avoid being Sorted into Slytherin? he asked himself. In a low voice, careful not to prod too hard---he knew the boy was still twitchy from his experiences prior to Hogwarts---he asked: "On your honour, boy---do you really believe that Professor Lockhart’s the Heir of Slytherin?"

Nick sighed. "Honestly, no. If you want the truth, sir, I think the man’s a complete fraud---if he ever did all those things he claims in his books, I’m a Gringott’s goblin!" As Professor Snape listened silently, Nick went on: "His books are riddled with errors---who ever heard of werewolves operating other than alone?---and I’ve not been able to get confirmation from any of the places he says he’s been that he actually did all the things he says he did. I’ve been owling around, a lot."

"So you came up with this theory, in order to discredit one of your teachers?" drawled Professor Snape.

"Sir---" Nick gambled on total honesty---"I’ve got NEWTs coming up, and I don’t want to fail my NEWT in Defence Against The Dark Arts because I’ve been taught by a total fraud!"

For a few endless minutes, Professor Snape regarded Nick Cleveland, his black eyes unreadable. Nick, no stranger to this tactic, retreated into his own thoughts and gave back look for look. Then, Professor Snape decided to break the impasse. He leaned forward and asked: "Does anybody else know about your little scheme, boy?"

"Only Melinda. She and I have no secrets from each other, and she loathes Professor Lockhart. She has ever since she had to serve that detention helping him answer his…his fan mail," answered Nick, pronouncing the words "fan mail" as though they described something sticky he’d stepped in by accident. "She says that he all but told her that he was available for some ‘after-hours extra tuition in Defence Against The Dark Arts,’ if you know what I mean." Nick spread his hands. "She came storming back to our common-room swearing in Mandarin, stomped off to the girls’ baths, and came back looking like she’d scrubbed with lye soap! She finally calmed down enough to tell me that he’d been ‘accidentally’ touching her up all the time she was in there with him!"

"Indeed," murmured Professor Snape. He looked very angry, but not at Nick. "And why didn’t either of you tell the good Professor Flitwick---or Professor Dumbledore?"

"Professor Flitwick’s a teacher, so is Professor Lockhart. Professor Flitwick would believe Professor Lockhart’s story. As for Professor Dumbledore, he’s just too good---he’d never believe anything evil of anybody."

Professor Snape grinned suddenly, a startling sight. "You don’t know Professor Dumbledore very well, do you, Mr. Cleveland?" He leaned forward, his long finger pointing at Nick like a spear. "In any case, boy, keep your mouth tightly shut about this little scheme, and tell the good Miss Yang to do likewise. I’ve been praying for something like this to happen. Twenty points to Ravenclaw for coming up with this scheme, and I’ll make it fifty if your rumour forces him to leave!"

Feeling like he’d been reprieved at the foot of the gallows, Nick got up to leave. As he turned to go, Professor Snape said: "Oh, one last thing." Puzzled, but polite, Nick turned to see what more Professor Snape wanted to say to him. "It was a bad day for Slytherin when that pillock of a Sorting Hat decided that you belonged in Ravenclaw. This scheme is one that any of my own pupils would be proud of."

Flattered, Nick smiled broadly, "The Hat nearly did put me in Slytherin, sir. If I were even a bit less bookish, I’d probably be one of Les Verts-et-Argents this minute."

Professor Snape smiled, "I guess I owe the Hat an apology, then. In any case, you would truly have been an ornament to Slytherin, and you may take that as a compliment."