Brilliance

In my opinion, if somebody doesn't like animals they don't like humans, either, and the other way round. I mean, how could they? Aren't humans animals, as well? Mankind is a species, related to other animals such as pigs or monkeys. Can someone like one species but loathe all others? Can someone like all species but one? The answer is quite obviously 'no'. You can fear one or more species, yes (to not run away in fright when faced with a Hungarian Horntail would be downright foolish) but you may not mistake this for hate or disgust.

Hmm, I somehow don't think it's very clear what I mean. Well, let's just put it like James did. Why would Benzen, a man who loathes humans and animals alike, carry around a book about the mating habits of common pets? It just didn't make sense.

Our dear Jamsie didn't leave us to solve this riddle on our own, however, since he already had. "The toad, of course."

"Eh? What does Esmeralda have to do with it?" Esmeralda was Benzen's pet toad. Now, don't think that he liked her - as I said, Benzen loathed everything that breathes oxygen. No, our dear Professor used Esmeralda to show the effects of certain plans to the pupils by feeding her bits of the weeds or sprinkling her with their juice. That these effects weren't always pretty or painless is obvious. It was scandalous but nobody ever did anything about the fact that he treated her like vermin. He hadn't even given her a name, we did that, and since Benzen is an ugly git, we bestowed upon the toad the name of Quasimodo's love. Fitting.

"Simple," James answered Peter's question, "he wants her to reproduce so he can use her children for his experiments."

"Out of question," I cried and brought my fist down upon the mattress. It didn't quite have the effect I wanted it to. I promised myself to crack my knuckles menacingly later on instead, when we'd debate on how to best exact revenge on the git.

"Yes," Peter nodded solemnly. "He'd just abuse them as he does Esmeralda!"

James looked grave and for a moment he resembled Dumbledore. I'd have to get myself a pair of glasses, I thought. People with specs always got the game with their facial expressions down to an art (at least, the ones I knew did). The only question was, if it was the specs or the reason for the specs, that caused this talent in mimics.

"Indeed. But it still would be better to give Benzen what he wants." This declaration was met with an incredulous silence. Was James out of his flipping mind?! Or was he just plain stupid?

Which reminds me! Another thing about people with glasses are, that they always look mightily intelligent. On the other hand, that might not always be of advantage. I once read a book, a Muggle book, about a wizard and his apprentices. This one wizard, you know, he was a dark one, and he always killed the pupils that got to powerful or acquired to much knowledge. Well, except one. He survived because he pretended to be stupid but, actually, he was studying magic in secret and by the end of the book he was powerful enough to stop the dark wizard. So looking stupid, actually wasn't such a bad thing. Maybe, I wouldn't get myself a pair of glasses.

"Have you ever heard of the Mulimitation Charm?" I looked at him, eyebrows raised. I hadn't, and neither had Remus and Peter. James, of course, had.

The Multimitation Charm, he explained, is a charm often used by healers and by scientists in laboratories. It produces and infinite number of copies of the original object, which retain the characteristics of the original. It can be used to 'clone' small animals, but more often finds utilisation in duplicating blood corpuscles to remedy extreme blood loss until a donor (or a Sanguis Potion) can be found. Because this was the crux of the thing. The Charm only lasted for a 24 hours and a few odd seconds (the time the earth needs to once revolve around its own axis).

That's something funny, anyway. In our first Astronomy lesson we didn't immediately look at all the stars and the moon and stuff and say, ah, there's Canis Maior. Wow, what a bright star! Or, look! There's Ursa Minor! Nah, Professor Sideria first made us learn everything important about the earth, like that it needs 365 x 24 + 6 hours to circle around the sun. And that because we "make" our days last exactly 24 hours and not 24 hours and 59,178 seconds, a leap year is required every four years (59,178 x 365 x 4 = 86400 seconds = 24 h). I found it boring then, the next lesson, too. That one was all about the moon, and how far from the earth it is and how big and that the it takes 27,32 days (and not a whole month) to wane and wax. Later on (in second year) I discovered why this might be of interest to anyone but back then it was deadly dull.

Speaking of deadly, it hadn't until that point occurred to me that if someone was going to pay for putting Remus in the infirmary, it should by all means be Benzen. While it was Snape who framed us, it was still Benzen who got so worked up over the fact that we got away scot-free that he tried to kill one of us.

What had Dumbledore done about that, anyhow? He certainly hadn't sacked Benzen. Had he even punished him? A fine seemed very inappropriate, more so a simple telling off. Could a teacher be barred from Hogsmeade weekends, as Alfred Goyle had been, when he had beaten up a first-year Hufflepuff? Or receive detention? The picture of Benzen, kneeling in front of the infirmary's bedpans, piss on his hands and sweat on his face, sprang to my mind immediately. I snorted. The others, used to my regular bouts of insanity, didn't even blink or ask what I was thinking now, nor did James stop in his narrative. "I'd say, we do it tomorrow night."

"Saturday would be better, actually." Remus, who since the introduction of this topic had been rather quiet, shifted his gaze back from the window - just when had he started staring out of the darn thing again? - towards our little group. "It's a Hogsmeade weekend, lesser chance of getting caught." That was true, not only third years and above (and just why couldn't it be *second* years and above?!) used the chance to spend as much time away from school as possible, the teachers did too.

"We can't be sure if he really will go, though," I put in. Benzen hardly ever left Hogwarts. He even had spent Christmas here for the last four years (quoth Darius Weasley) which was quite surprising since he had a wife - the ring on his finger gave it away. It was quite egoistic of her to keep him away from home (and at Hogwarts, where he could torment us), though; on the other hand, we could sympathise with the poor lady. Who would willingly want to spend Christmas with such a git? Not to mention, marry him. What had that woman been thinking? James and I had come to the conclusion that she must have been drunk at the time.

"That's a risk I'm willing to take." Like I said, I hadn't thought much about Benzen in the last week but Remus had, it seemed. Only logical, the man had tried to kill him, after all but something made me stop and look a bit closer at my friend. There was a difference about him but what? I regarded him systematically. Okay, shoes were the same murky brown colour, the socks not visible because of the long black trousers (too long but he would grow into them and that's why his mother had bought them, he had once told me), same slightly greyish uniform and tie. His hair hadn't changed one iota, either, except that it had grown. Nothing outward then. Or was it? His face, I realised, he looked - vengeful.

"And me, too." There was an edge in James voice and he looked pointedly at me and Peter, who quickly stated that he was game. I got the feeling that James hadn't cooked up this prank all alone.

And looking at the determined expression on both, his and Remus', faces another thought rushed into my head: this was only the beginning.