An Australian in Hogsmeade

Chapter 9: Yours, Peeves.

_

By the time I finished speaking it was early evening and the room was filled with the last pieces of yellow sunlight coming in through the window. It seemed very quiet now that I had stopped talking; the quiet ticking of a clock somewhere and the sound of breathing weren't enough to fill the silence. Albus remained still, presumably thinking about what I had told him.

I reached for the teapot, partly to break the too-still feel of the room and partly because I truly needed another drink after all that talking, even if it was cold tea. As I started pouring, however, I nearly dropped the pot in surprise as steam rose up from the spout. I managed to retain my grasp on the handle, though, and poured a cup for Albus as well.

"Ah, thank you, wonderful things, warming charms."

"Mhmm."

In fact, I could see the advantage of them, now that I was getting over my little fright. It was certainly nice to be able to settle back with a second cup of hot tea without having to re-boil a kettle. The room was cooling down and I wrapped my hands around the cup to warm them.

"Tell me, did... odd things ever happen around you when you were little?"

"Odd? You mean things that would indicate I had magic?" He nodded. "No; the only thing I can think of was when a pile of clothes avalanched off the bed, but it turned out my mother had put the washing on top of the cat. No magical things whatsoever."

"Hmm. Interesting. I wonder how... I'll have to get Filius to look into that..." His musings petered off and he looked at me directly again. It was rather disconcerting to be under the direct regard of those blue eyes, even if there was a pair of glasses between them and me.

"How do you know about accidental magic in children, if you haven't read the books?"

"I went and got them - well, the first three - this morning, before I came here. I read a bit of the first one while I ate lunch."

"Ah. Well, I'd suggest you finish them as soon as possible. If nothing else, it will prepare you for some of the things which are considered normal here."

He glanced out the window; the clouds were now coloured in pinks and purples from the last of the sunset.

"Would you like to have dinner here?"

"Er..."

He smiled, seeming to understand my hesitation.

"I can assure you that the food is quite good - at least up to Madam Rosmerta's standards."

"In that case, thank you," I replied, thinking that dinner in a school for magic could be interesting, at the least.

He smiled a bit wider and stood, then held the door open for me.

"You'll probably find it quite interesting. I should warn you that the food will all appear on the plates when dinner starts, though."

I went down the stairs, waiting for Albus at the bottom and wondering if it was simply coincidence that his words echoed my thoughts.

"Thanks, is there anything else I should know about? I've been getting too many surprises lately, it's not good for my heart. Walking, talking paintings perhaps?"

"Well, actually..."

I stared, mildly stunned, then blinked.

"I wasn't being serious..." I muttered, as I followed Albus down the hall. Forewarned, I looked closely at some of the paintings as we went by; none of them were exactly walking, but I did notice heads following us as we went by and one or two waved. I waved back, feeling decidedly ridiculous waving to a painting. On the other hand I was following someone who wore a wizard costume as everyday attire, complete with long white hair and beard and a pointy hat. Although admittedly it wasn't quite up to Unseen University standards; there wasn't a sequin in sight.

"Ah-hah! A student, fair maid though she be, not in robes! A quest, for they must have been stolen by a means most foul! Tell me, sweet damsel, what dastardly rogue has done this? Tell me and I with my noble steed shall do all in our power to retrieve them!"

I stopped out of sheer astonishment. I could almost see the exclamation marks at the end of the sentences and combined with the archaic sentence structure it certainly got my attention.

I soon understood the reason for the sentence structure; I was being addressed by an oil painting of a medieval knight.

This could be fun.

For the second time that day, I curtsied; it was the only thing I could remember how to do from the ballet lessons during my early primary school years.

"And may I know the name of the one who would undertake this quest for me?"

"Sir Cadogan, my lady." He bowed, while his "noble steed" snatched a mouthful of grass.

"Sir Cadogan, truly I appreciate this offer, but alas! I am afraid it would be doomed to failure from the very beginning, for I have no robes as I am neither teacher nor student here."

I was mildly surprised that I was able to make up such sentences on the fly; evidently reading fantasy had had some good side effects. I decided, however, not to mention that I didn't really see what use a painted knight with a fat pony for a mount would be in retrieving a lost set of robes.

"Sir Cadogan, I believe Jenna and I should be on our way. Perhaps you could check on Peeves for me? The suits of armour are beginning to complain about the number of times he knocks them over."

"Certainly, my lord! Onwards I shall proceed, vanquishing all poltergeists and rescuing those less fortunate than I!"

He called his pony, who by this stage had wandered a considerable distance into the field that was the background of the painting. The pony feigned deafness and continued cropping the grass, making Sir Cadogan clatter after him and giving Albus and I the opportunity to escape before even more convoluted sentences emerged.

Our journey after that was uninterrupted by anyone, two dimensional or otherwise. I didn't say anything, as I was trying to get head around walking talking paintings. It had been a bit like an interactive movie might be, except with the texture of an oil painting. That had looked decidedly strange since I had seen the brush strokes moving as Sir Cadogan did. I wondered how the paintings got their personality - was it the same as the personality of the subject? What if the painter did someone completely imaginary?

My thinking was halted as we came to a large open area, with nothing between the ground level and the ceiling several floors up except for several staircases stretching like bridges between floors and from one hallway to another.

"Have your banisters just been given a polish? They're looking absolutely magnificent tonight. Positively gleaming! Do you think you move to the teacher's entrance to the Great Hall? Oh, thank you, I'll ask the house elves to give you an extra sweep tonight."

Albus was complimenting the staircase. I remembered what Draco had said about some of the teachers being quite strange and decided that was an understatement. The entire castle that I had seen so far was beyond strange, most of the personnel included, both two- and three-dimensional. The fact that the staircase was now pivoting so it connected to a different hallway did nothing to dispel this notion. Even if it did suggest that talking to the staircase had - possibly - been justified.

We waited until the stairs stilled before starting down them. Figuring my dignity had more or less been thrown out the window at about the time I'd curtsied to a painting, I thanked the stairs as we left. I really didn't want one to start swinging around while I was on it, as I could just see myself tumbling over the banisters as I lost my balance. Or maybe just stepping straight off the end of the stairs.

I followed Albus through the arched doorway that was currently at the bottom of the stairs. At first I couldn't really see what sort of room we had entered, as there were several pillars in the way. All I could tell was that it was large, because although I could hear the voices of several people the sound level was still low.

When we stepped out from behind the I paused to take in the surroundings. The room was quite long, with columns and arches running down both sides. Students were sitting at four long tables that ran down most of the length of the room; a fifth, somewhat smaller one that was set perpendicular to the others was at one end of the room had some older people were sitting at it. Albus was walking to that table and I recognised Professor McGonagall among the people already seated there. The tableware seemed to be gold, throwing off the lighting given by hundreds upon hundred of candles floating well above the heads of everyone. Continuing upwards, I finally saw the ceiling. It seemed to be made of glass - just a single sheet, with no visible supports. The sky outside was now mostly dark, with a few touches of purple on the clouds. I thought it was odd that there were no reflections in the glass, then mentally kicked myself. There were hundreds of floating candles above my head and I thought no reflections in some glass was odd?

I was wondering where I was supposed to sit and walked over to where Albus was sitting. I was about to interrupt his conversation with Professor McGonagall when he looked up and beckoned to someone to come up to the staff table. Following the direction he had looked in, I saw that Draco had just entered the dining room and was now heading towards us.

"Jenna, I assume that sitting with Mr Malfoy will be alright?"

"What?" Albus had startled me a little. "Oh yes, that's fine."

"Excellent. Oh, just one thing - if anyone asks if you're Muggle, it's fine to tell them, but otherwise just go on as you have, I think that would be best."

"Muggle being...?"

"Sorry - non-wizard. Or witch, in your case."

"Oh, right. I'd intended on doing more or less that anyway."

At that point Draco arrived, giving me a moment to establish a firm hold on the laughter that was threatening to make itself known due to the expression on Professor McGonagall's face at hearing that I was a Muggle.

"Ah, Mr Malfoy, I do believe you and Miss Curlew have met? Excellent! As she's having dinner here tonight, I thought she could sit with you."

Professor McGonagall had managed to regain her composure and as I followed Draco off the raised area that the teacher's table was on, I saw give her Albus some very odd looks before leaning over to speak to him about something.

The table that Draco was moving to was next to one of the walls and was covered with a dark green tablecloth. Or tablecloths, considering the length of the table. The other three tables had blue, yellow and red tablecloths respectively. I supposed from this that the students sat in houses at dinner; they were the standard colours, after all.

Draco sat on the wall side of the green table, near the middle, and I followed suit. Sitting opposite us were two boys who were large and somewhat intimidating.

"That's Crabbe," Draco said after I'd sat down, gesturing to the boy opposite me, "and that's Goyle."

"Really? I somehow doubt that they're your first names. So in an effort to complete the introductions, I'm Jenna."

"Vincent Crabbe."

"Gregory Goyle."

Draco raised an eyebrow.

"Crabbe, Goyle, she already knows your last names. I said them, remember? Jenna isn't anywhere near as slow as you two are, she doesn't need to be reminded every two seconds of what's been said." Then he turned to me. "By the way, what is it with your continued insistence on first names?"

I couldn't raise one eyebrow, so I settled for a mildly astonished-that-you-have-to-ask expression.

"I've never used surnames in my life, except to teachers and the like. They're rather impersonal, don't you think? Why, does this entire school use last names on a regular basis?"

"Mostly," said Vincent. Gregory shrugged in agreement.

"Although I expect those Gryffindors are all on friendly first-name terms."

Draco was looking up as he said this and was sneering. I looked up as well and saw that the boy who'd crashed into me at King's Cross Station had just entered, along with his two friends.

Harry, Ron and Hermione, I thought, main characters in some of the best-selling fiction books in the world, walking into a room where I was. My sister would kill to be in this situation. Quite possibly literally.

"Probably with the teachers too, given the marks the Mudblood gets."

This was spoken rather cheerfully by a dark-haired boy who had just sat down next to me.

"I'm Blaise Zabini. Are you a new student?"

"I'm Jenna, and no, I'm just here for dinner tonight. Did it occur to you that Hermione might actually study?"

Everyone within hearing range at the by now nearly-full table stared at me as if I'd said something completely forbidden.

"What? It's not that unusual - student, study, the words have the same root."

"Draco!"

Thank God for diversions, I thought, as most people took their eyes off me. The new arrival was a girl with dark brown hair and a face that reminded me of nothing quite so much as a pug, despite the make-up she had quite obviously applied.

She was about to sit down on the other side of Draco when she noticed me.

"Who's this?" She glanced over as much as she could see of me, given that I was sitting at a table. "And what on earth is she wearing?"

She sat down, a sneer planted firmly on her face.

Draco looked mildly amused, and I could see a similar expression on Blaise's face out of the corner of my eye.

"Jenna, this is Pansy. Pansy, Jenna."

Pansy sniffed.

"You still haven't explained why she's wearing those rags, Draco."

I was wearing a plain t-shirt and jeans - nothing fancy by any stretch of the imagination, but they were hardly rags.

"Nice to meet you, too," I said pointedly. "Why is it that I seem to spend most of my time here telling people how to be polite? Company on the left excepted, of course," I added, nodding at Blaise. "I thought England was supposed to be the epitome of civilisation."

I was beginning to feel as if I'd done nothing but chide people on their manners - or lack thereof - for the past few days, and I had the oddest feeling that I was sounding like my mother. Quite sad, for an eighteen-year-old.

"I wasn't aware that anyone in such attire was considered civilised."

I was about to make another retort - something along the lines of her attire going out of fashion a few centuries ago for everyone save monks and some people being too self-centred to notice - but at that point Albus stood up. It was probably a good thing, given that everyone else in the room was also wearing black robes.

"I realise everyone's hungry, but I do have a few notices to give out and I thought I'd say them now rather than at the end so everyone can leave when they wish. Unless of course you'd rather...?" I noticed some emphatic shaking of heads from people at the table with the red cloth, Hermione among them with her bushy hair flying everywhere. I briefly wondered why she didn't tie it back, and thought that perhaps the magic world didn't run to hair-ties.

"No? I didn't think so. Right then. Firstly, the new security measures must be followed; those failing to comply will be given detention with either Professor Snape-"

I noticed hints of relief and satisfaction on the faces around me, while students at the other tables looked either worried, calm or outright terrified.

"- or Argus Filch. I will lift some of the restrictions placed on Filch's detention methods for multiple offenders."

Now even the faces around me looked concerned, and it occurred to me that capital punishment may not have been banned in this world.

"On a lighter note, there is a new shop opening in Hogsmeade - namely, the Hogsmeade branch of Florean Fortescue's Ice-cream Parlour. Because of this, this weekend will be a Hogsmeade weekend-"

Albus stopped speaking as cheering broke out across of the room, although most of the younger students looked rather disappointed. Our table was noticeably reserved; about half the students at it clapped politely but no-one cheered.

After a few minutes and much loud shushing, Albus was able to continue and be heard.

"The first and second years will also be permitted to attend the opening - "

This time the cheers did extend to our table. All the students who'd looked disappointed were now ecstatic, while the older students mostly looked on and smiled slightly with a dignity that they hadn't possessed a few moments before.

"-although they will be escorted there and back by teachers and will not be permitted into any of the other stores. And without further ado, I believe it is high time we had some dinner."

Albus clapped his hands, and suddenly the golden dishes on the tables were filled with food of all descriptions. Despite his warning, I jumped in surprise and I had to exert considerable effort not to let my jaw drop in a goldfish impression. Gold tableware in itself was impressive, but it was even more so when full of all sorts of food. Albus had been right; this was definitely up to Madam Rosmerta's standards. Or possibly it was the other way round, Madam Rosmerta's standards being up to Hogwarts'.

"Not used to food appearing? How did they do things at your school then, make you cook your own?"

Pansy again.

"No, although sometimes I think that would have been an improvement, especially with the rice. Someone pass the jug?"

Blaise obliged, handing me the heavy pitcher.

"Anyone else want some? Vincent? Gregory? Pass your goblets then."

I started pouring pumpkin juice for everyone, Pansy included. She didn't seem to have any objection to having someone dressed in "rags" filling her goblet, although she had Draco pass it over to me.

The girl opposite Blaise also passed her goblet over.

"I'm Millicent and yes, you're Jenna, I heard. Draco, you've been neglecting introductions again."

"Malfoy's manner's do leave something to be desired, don't they?"

"Cut it, Zabini. I know Snape's very interested in finding a culprit for who rearranged his potions cupboard."

"And also in how many Quidditch practices you haven't been to. When was the last time you caught the snitch against Potter? Let me think... strange, I can't seem to remember that ever happening."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I was there this morning. And I have an impartial witness."

Draco gestured to me with a soup ladle, which dripped on the table and very nearly knocked my goblet over.

"Careful! Pass that here, if you've quite finished trying to use the ladle as a weapon of choice." Draco handed to tureen and ladle to me and I looked inside. Cream of something-or-other, possibly mushroom. It looked delicious, whatever it was.

"If you're going to try to use me as a witness, I feel obliged to point out that all I can witness to is that you were by the lake at 6:45 this morning. Prior to that we'd be relying on your word - or not, as the case may be."

I paused to pass the soup to Blaise and grab some bread. Trying the soup, I realised I'd guessed right; cream of mushroom.

"Spoken like a true Slytherin," commented Blaise, while Draco glared at both him and me.

"Sorry? What's a Slytherin?"

"Slytherin's one of the school houses," Blaise explained. "There are four - the others are Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor."

"And?"

"And what?"

"And what does that have to do with your comment?"

"Oh, right. People are sorted into houses according to personality traits - we're cunning and ambitious."

"And also prone to using the truth only as long as it suits us - hence, your comment was quite Slytherin. Being prone to cheating and stealing is considered an added bonus."

"Speak for yourself," Blaise interjected.

"Of course, a few of us are hampered by the occasional twinge of conscience, but I suppose it can't be helped."

"And others are hampered by their inflated good opinions of themselves," threw in Millicent.

"I take it you're all Slytherins then?" I interrupted the bickering, sensing that it could quite possibly go on for hours if I didn't. Those three kept the retorts coming with an ease that spoke of years of practice.

"Of course."

Draco looked affronted at the very idea that he would be anything else. Millicent smiled a little.

"The Sorting Hat screamed Slytherin before it even touched his head."

"Yeah, he's got the complete Slytherin aura. None of the rest of us compare - took a whole second for the Hat to put me in."

Millicent glared at Blaise.

"You," she declared, "pay far too much attention to that so-called Professor Trelawney. You're as bad as Brown and Patil, it's enough to make anyone sick."

"Hey, she keeps predicting Potter's death, she can't be all bad."

"Incorrectly. The only reason she does that is because he's the most likely candidate, seeing as the Dark Lord is out to get him. Gives her a higher probability of success."

"If she can think that far," Draco threw in. "Personally, I have severe doubts as to her mental capacity. And Bulstrode's right - you did sound remarkably like those gullible Gryffindor idiots."

I noticed Pansy going a little red, but I didn't say anything. I couldn't be bothered dealing with any more of her nastiness if I didn't have to. Instead I turned my attention to the deserts that had appeared as the other food had disappeared and helped myself to some apple crumble, managing to get to it before Vincent and Gregory. I had noticed that any serving dish that found its way over to them was promptly emptied; presumably as a consequence, the others at the table seemed to have adopted the strategy of ensuring that those two were the last to get the dishes.

"Jenna, how come you didn't come to Hogwarts? I mean, it's the best school there is, even though Dumbledore's a Muggle-lover."

I looked up to see Millicent looking at me curiously. How to answer that one?

"I, er... don't believe Hogwarts covers Australia."

"Oh, is that where you're from? I couldn't figure it out, you don't - "

"-have an Australian accent," I interrupted Blaise. "I know, I know, I've been told before. G'day mate." I exaggerated the last two words, adopting an incredibly broad accent. "Now that I've got the obligatory Australianism out of the way, would you please pass the cream? Thanks."

I went back to thinking about houses being sorted by personality. An interesting idea; I wondered how they determined someone's personality if they didn't know them. Someone had mentioned something about a hat, hadn't they? How would that work?

I finished off desert, scraping the spoon around the bowl to get the last scraps of apple and cream, then settled back as far as I could, given that I was sitting on a bench. I felt comfortably full and warm; it was oddly comfortable being surrounded by students again, no matter how strange their curriculum may be. I could vaguely hear someone down the table saying something about a Transfiguration essay and needing a few more inches. Closing my eyes, I let the chatter in the room just wash over me for a few moments.

"Jenna!"

My name was accompanied by a swat on my arm, and I opened my eyes regretfully, just in time to see Draco preparing to swat me again.

"What?"

"You looked like you'd fallen asleep, is all."

"Not quite, no."

In the few minutes that I'd left my eyes shut, the room had begun to empty and was now only about half full. Albus, I noticed, was among those who had left. I glanced at my watch; half past seven.

"I suppose I should head back to Hogsmeade," I said. "Do you think you could show me where the front door is?"

"Well, I'm going back to the common room."

With that pleasant farewell, Pansy left the table.

"Thank you God," I muttered. Blaise and Millicent rose from the table as well, saying goodbye before heading to one of the several exits in the room. Vincent and Gregory were still trying to ensure that there would be a minimum of leftovers.

Draco looked at them with a faintly disgusted expression.

"Shall we leave these two to their ill-mannered scoffing then?"

He got up and I followed suit. As I left the hall, I noticed that Professor McGonagall was looking at me rather intently and I gave her a small wave before we walked out the large double doors at the end of the room.

Once outside the dining room, I followed in a route that was equally as confusing as ones I'd been led on previously, although this time no staircases were involved. I was thankful for that; now that I knew they could move, I was somewhat more wary of them.

We had been walking for a few minutes when there was a shout from behind us.

"Jenna?!"

I turned to see Harry, Ron and Hermione walking up to us.

"Oh Merlin help us, it's the golden trio again," Draco muttered, loud enough to be heard.

"What are you doing with her, Malfoy? I can't believe she's voluntarily going anywhere with a Slytherin, especially you."

That was Ron; evidently the red-hair and a short temper theory had some basis. I glared at him, annoyed at the way he had completely ignored me in favour of picking a fight with Draco.

"Actually, she fit in amazingly well at dinner. Didn't you notice? Or were you too preoccupied wondering if you'd ever be able to afford one of the Hogwarts' forks?"

Ron started going red, starting at the ears.

"And I suppose you were wondering what the best way to cheat on tomorrow's test would be, Ferret-boy? Or possibly how to serve Jenna up for a sacrifice to You-Know-Who? Is that what you're doing now, practising Imperio before you lose your test subject?"

"Poor comeback, Weasel, just like you. Just for the record, I don't cheat. Lie, yes, cheat, no."

I noticed Harry getting and Hermione getting prepared for a fight - either to prevent one or help out - and evidently Draco did as well. Personally, I was starting to get a little angry at the way Ron had started picking a fight straight away for no apparent reason..

"Ooh, look, your Mudblood girlfriend's getting ready to fight. How sweet! And Wonderboy's going play hero again. My, aren't we brave little Gryffindors? Going to show off in front of the new girl, are we, three to one? Almost as fair as five to three was at the end of last year."

"You're one to talk about fair odds! Maybe if you had a shred of decency in that slimy Slytherin heart of yours we'd consider it!"

Whatever his motives before, Harry was now decidedly preparing to join in a fight, rather than prevent one.

"Oh, yes , that's right, resort to crude Muggle violence. I might have expected it, knowing what you think of them."

"And I suppose magic's so much better? You certainly seemed to come off worse last time - want to see if we can give you tentacles all over your face like Crabbe had?"

"Excellent idea, Harry, his face does need a bit of improving."

I noticed Hermione start to move closer to where I was, presumably because I, like her, hadn't said anything yet and was therefore quite possibly on the side of preventing violence.

That assumption was correct, but I was going to do it my way. In hindsight, it probably wasn't the most intelligent way of going about things, but at the time I was quite angry. Ron had started this fight using me as an excuse and at the same time completely left me out of it and God damn it, I was going to have my say.

"That is enough!" I yelled, stepping between the three of them and thoroughly furious. "All three of you are behaving like immature idiots! I am here, you know, and I am quite capable of speaking for myself. And I have never, ever heard so many prejudiced things said before in my life!"

Harry, Ron, Draco all stared at me. Hermione, I noticed, was standing a little away from us as if to make clear to any passers-by that she was not a part of this.

"But-" Ron began to protest. I cut him off, not bothering to lower the volume of my voice,

"What the hell is supposed to be wrong with Slytherins? I spent all of dinner with them - yes, voluntarily - and I'm still here, in one piece and un-sacrificed. A sarcastic sense of humour doesn't seem to be good basis for hatred to me."

Ron gaped and Draco smirked, so I spun to face him.

"As for you, a lack of money is no reason to dislike someone, and it definitely isn't acceptable to insult someone because of it! And whatever a Mudblood is - "

"It means Muggle-born," Hermione interrupted.

"Really? So you insult someone because of their parents, is that it? That's worse than what you said to Ron. How is anyone suppose to help who their parents are? And why should it bloody matter? That makes as much sense as racism! Which is absolutely none! And it's just as abhorrent! What is your problem, is it with her or with Muggles or what?"

The corridor seemed very quiet when I stopped shouting, but predictably it was Draco who recovered his composure first.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't quite work out who's side you were on during that."

"Let me see, I have the choice of a prejudiced little boy or a prejudiced little boy and his friend. For some strange reason I'm not feeling inclined support either side of this particular match."

"I'm not a prejudiced little boy! There was no knowing what he'd done to you!"

I turned to Ron.

"Oh really? I saw precious little evidence of anything else just then. Who I choose to spend time with is none of your business, I don't care if you don't like them. You have seen me all of once before, you know absolutely nothing about me other than my first name and that by no means gives you any right to dictate my actions!"

I would have continued but there was a sudden clatter from down the hallway.

"Damn, it's Peeves," said Harry.

I was about to ask - well, given how I felt at that point in time, more likely demand to know - who Peeves was when the appearance of.. something... made it a redundant question.

"Oooh, a Slytherin talking to Gryffindors! Snapey would not be pleased, oh no!"

The silvery, transparent figure who had turned up was carrying a helmet, for some reason, which looked like it belonged to one of the many suits of armour in this castle.

"What is that? He? It?" I asked Hermione, who was standing closest to me.

"Peeves - he's a poltergeist."

That didn't really tell me much, but I shrugged it off. Maybe I'd look it up later.

"And a student out of uniform - detention! Detention! Ooh, detention, with manacles and chains! STUDENT OUT OF ROBES!"

"I'm not a student," I interrupted, thinking that what he had just said sounded incredibly wrong, taken out of context. Evidently Draco was thinking along the same lines, as he had once again raised an eyebrow.

Peeves paused in his series of loop-the-loops.

"You're not, are you? Wait! I know! You're that Muggle his Headmasterness Dumbledore was talking to this afternoon. Oooh, even better! There's a Mug-gle in Hog-warts, a Mug-gle in Hog-warts!"

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco once again stared at me, while I quietly cursed to myself in my head. Poltergeists had just gone to the top of my list of least-liked things. Peeves gave a half-shriek, half-cackle and threw the helmet down the hallway, sending it bouncing down a flight of stairs at the end before disappearing through a wall.