“The Many Faces Go To War: Chapter 10”
By = Fayanora

Chapter Ten: What A Pain

Notes: Sorry for the late update. Lots of things have been colluding against me. Summer heat, dangerous smoke in the air from the forest fires, pitiful amount of inspiration for this story, and the fact I've been working on some original fiction I hope to get published someday. But here we are!

Started putting dates on these chapters where possible, it helps me keep track of where I am in the story. (Something I figured out when writing my original fiction.) Dates are provided by HP Lexicon's Order of the Phoenix calendar.

FORMATTING FOR INTERNAL VOICES = 'Single quotes with no italics' will be Adira/Addy unless someone is quoting something, ~Text in tildes~ will be Chandra, (Parentheses for Al,) [Brackets will be Hypatia], % Percentage symbols for Iliana %, # Pound signs for Mother/Avani, # * Asterisks for Zoey, * and {curly brackets for Tier.} Apologies for any confusion this may cause.

Text in 'Italics and single quotes' is Parseltongue.

J. K. Rowling owns this sandbox, I'm only playing in it.

This chapter may contain some quotations from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

*FAYANORA*

The following Saturday was the first meeting of their unofficial self-defense club. It had been tricky getting recruits to sign the contracts – there had been three different contracts because of the cell structure – and even trickier to figure out how the cells would be arranged. What they'd finally settled on was that each cell would need a leader, someone who was good enough at Defense to help everyone else get better. Cells were split by House, so there were three of them. Addy had wanted four, but Hypatia said she had plans of her own for Slytherin, that the inclusion of Slytherin House was rife with potential conflict, and so she was going to be doing her own thing with them. This was a fact Addy kept from everyone else but Hermione, Ron, Luna, and Cedric. Though considering the cells didn't know about each other anyway, it was a moot point.

Working out where to meet and when was also tricky. As the largest cell, Gryffindor cell – 16 Gryffindors and Luna, because Luna didn't get along well with the other Ravenclaws – took the Room of Requirement. The Hufflepuff cell also used the Room of Requirement, but that would be stretching the limit of what was safe, even with Adira and Cedric coordinating their use of it. For Ravenclaw cell (led by Hermione) Hypatia had found an old dueling chamber that had been locked up tight with various wards that were decades out of date, broke the wards on it, and put her own wards on it that could only be unlocked with a literal ward key that was further secured by being tied to Hermione's and Cedric's magical signatures, as well as her own.

While she was at it, Hypatia had also put a portable ward stone densely covered in tiny glowing runes into the part of the Room of Requirement full of centuries worth of junk hidden in it, which further secured the Room from discovery by hostile forces. It could be turned off or on by Hermione or any of the Potters.

As to the group's name, they discussed that during the first meeting, and Ginny suggested Dumbledore's Army, or DA for short. The other cells agreed this was a good name when Addy brought it up, and so it became official.

A couple weeks after the first meeting, the last real contact between the cells occurred, when Hermione introduced the message rings that would keep people updated about the time and date of the next meeting. This had taken a bit more work than she and Hypatia had anticipated, as each group of rings had to be tied only to their own cell, but Hypatia wanted the Potter ring to be able to call everyone else's rings in an emergency, and also they had to make the rings so that cell leaders could send messages to the Potter ring. Given all these things, they made the ring messages programmable enough to send short alphanumeric messages and heat up when the ring received a message. And of course, the rings were invisible until the invisibility spell was manually deactivated by the ring's owner, by tapping it with their wand.

Wanting to be kept in the loop, the other Potters insisted Hypatia keep them informed about her plans with the Slytherin version of the group. According to her, it took two weeks longer to convince Draco and some of the other Slytherins to go in for the idea, between the Slytherins not wanting to get into trouble with Umbridge, but Slinkhard's classes were such a bad joke that the Slytherin version of the group – which still didn't have a name – finally managed to get eight people in the group. Draco, Hypatia, Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis, Blaise Zabini, Crabbe, Goyle, and Javier were in the group. Javier had been a hard sell, because of his association with Al, but Hypatia finally managed it by explaining the contract in detail. Javier, of course, had no idea who she was.

Javier was, in fact, getting on better with Al than even before. They'd been spending an hour here and there on weekends getting together to talk, and they were good enough friends by the end of October that they were thinking about dating again.

Quidditch practice had been going well. The team was getting pretty good, with some hiccups regarding McClaggen and Ron, but McClaggen was Reserve Keeper, so they wouldn't have to put up with him during games.

~
October 30th, 1995

Adira was doing homework in her room before bed when Dobby appeared with a POP at her side, startling her. As she cleaned up the running ink mess she'd made because of it, she said, “Hi, Dobby. What can I do for you?”

“Begging your pardon, Miss, but it is what Dobby is here to do for you. Professor Dumbledore is wanting Dobby to take you to his office again, Miss.”

“Why? Wait, is this another meeting with that Kadu woman?”

Dobby nodded vigorously. “Yes, Miss, that is what he is wanting you for.”

“Alright Dobby, give me a moment,” she said, finishing up cleaning the homework, drying the ink, and putting it away before taking Dobby's hand.

With a POP, they were in Dumbledore's office again. Sure enough, the woman whose skin was so dark brown she was almost like a living shadow was there again. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, and the woman was sitting in front of it.

“Ah, and this must be Adira Potter,” Ms. Kadu said.

“Yes, that's me.”

“Good. I have been keeping track of your progress, and I am so far satisfied that you are taking appropriate steps to be a better person. With that in mind, I have decided to teach you some things about wandless magic, to help you control it.”

“Okay. That's good to hear. We've uh... kinda been neglecting that aspect of things lately.”

“That is actually good to hear. You should not be experimenting with wandless magic on your own, without an expert at your side to help reverse things. For wandless magic is, in fact, a controlled form of what is mistakenly called 'accidental magic.' A more accurate term would be 'emotional magic.'”

“Okay,” Adira said, sitting down at last.

“Despite the name, though, it can be controlled, harnessed, tempered by the rational mind. It is far trickier than mastering wand magic, because magical creatures are usually able to control their powers consciously, and that automatic control of their magic combines with your own when using a wand. Some would say wands are a sort of crutch, but I would say instead that wands are like the crystal on a Muggle laser, focusing what is unfocused. The main difference is that having used a wand can increase your overall magical focus and control, which can translate over to wandless magic. Tell me, how often did you use wandless magic before getting your wand?”

“Er... not often. Average, like most kids.”

“A few scattered incidents when you were especially emotional, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And since getting a wand?”

Adira didn't know how to answer that, so she shrugged.

“Would you say it is a lot more frequent than the years before getting your wand?”

She thought of the incidences. Zoey's use of wandless transfiguration and sticking charms, among others. Chandra's and Al's unintentional magic, and their later experiments to try to control wandless magic. And so on.

“Yes, I would.”

“I thought as much,” Mahala said. “Before either wands or staffs were invented, wizards and witches had emotional magic. They began to learn how to control it a couple years earlier than we do now, and it took well into adulthood to fully master. But with the use of a wand, you've got farther in your control of your magic than children of old would have at your age. The issue is that most people grow dependent on their wand. And why not? It makes magic so much easier. But then what happens if you lose your wand? Most wizards and witches these days would be completely helpless without their wands.

“That is actually why African mages prefer to focus on wandless magic. Christianity's poison on that continent is far more recent than here; African mages in many parts of the continent have been going through in modern days the kind of witch hunts that Europe once suffered from. So, not wishing to be dependent on a tool that can be taken from us, most of us hone our natural wandless talents. We still use wands, of course, but we are not helpless without them. And step one of mastering wandless magic is using a finger as a sort of substitute wand.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that part of how a wand focuses magic is by giving your mind a tool to focus on. If you just work yourself into a rage at someone without your wand, that magic could explode in any direction, doing virtually anything to anyone or anything in the vicinity. From what I've heard, you've already taken well to step one, by pointing at where you wish your power to go. Of course, I think you still have yet to master the second part of that first step: focusing your mind on the power moving through your finger as though your finger was a wand. From what I have heard of the incidents so far, you point at your target but focus your power through your vision.

“Now, it is entirely possible to use wandless magic by sight alone. But that is a very advanced technique. But you have to master the basics before you can master the advanced skills. This is why your results have been scattershot, why you keep finding yourself doing things you don't know how to reverse: because you don't have enough control yet for casting your power through vision to be much better than accidental magic.”

“Oh. So... so I have to learn to channel my magic through my finger, like my finger is a wand?”

“Yes. And to start you on the path of doing that, you will cast a light charm from your finger. Like this. Lumos!” a light appeared at the end of the woman's index finger, exactly like the wand spell.

“I don't normally cast in Latin, of course, but that was for your benefit. But before you try it for yourself, you should put your wands aside. You do not want them going off accidentally.”

Adira took out both of their wands and set them on Dumbledore's desk. Then she looked at her finger, tried thinking of it as a wand, and then tried to make a light spell from it.

“Lumos!”

Nothing happened.

“Feel your magic. You feel your magic whenever you cast with a wand, but with wands you cast first and then feel it. With wandless magic, you need to feel your magic first, then cast. It's a little tricky. It helps some people to think of strong emotions associated with light.”

Adira nodded, and thought about it. She didn't need to think hard to do that; she had spent so much time in her frequently-dark cupboard at the Dursley house that light was a huge relief. She hadn't been scared of the dark for a very long time, but she still preferred light over darkness. Light meant freedom. Light meant hope. Light meant, if not joy, at least a lot of relief.

“Lumos!” she cast, and her finger lit up.

“I did it!” she said. No sooner had she spoken than the light went out.

“That's another downside to wandless magic,” Mahala said. “Even with wands, you have to keep at least a trickle of magic flowing to keep a spell going, but it takes more magic and concentration to keep up a wandless spell the same way. This is because wands, being semi-conscious, can boost the power with their own magic. In wandless magic, though, your magic is entirely your own.”

Adira cast the spell again. First time, it didn't work. Second time, it did. She held it in place for almost a minute before getting tired and having to stop.

“See how much effort it takes to create and maintain a simple light spell? Your homework, until next time, is to practice that wandless light spell until you can hold it in place for five whole minutes.”

(Oh lovely, extra homework,) Al thought.

“So endeth the lesson,” Mahala said.

“One question first,” Adira asked. “Um... so do all wandless spells require an emotional component?”

“Yes and no. 'Yes,' because when you're starting out, the conscious application of the emotional component is necessary to give your magic a kick in the pants towards what you're trying to do with it. And 'no,' because once you've practiced a wandless spell often enough, the emotional component gets replaced by the familiar sensations of casting the spell. Basically, the way any magical training works – with or without wands – is by conditioning your mind to associate certain feelings and expectations with a certain effect; thus, with enough practice, a spell becomes something akin to muscle memory, something you do automatically once you've learned how, like flying a broomstick.

“Or... you're Muggle raised, right? So with cars, do you know the difference between an automatic and a stick shift? Yes? Good. Well, wand magic like you learn at Hogwarts is similar to learning how to drive an automatic. But wandless magic, though essentially the same thing, is like learning to drive a stick shift. In other words, it's difficult because you're learning a whole new system.

“Although, since each spell you learn is its own thing you have to learn independently, it's kind of more like trying to learn how to tango when all you know is waltzes. The steps are different, the style is different, and while learning one waltz can help you learn other waltzes faster, learning to waltz doesn't really help much in learning to tango.”

“Er... right. I think I get it,” Adira said.

“Good. Now is there anything else before I dismiss you? Other questions, more prophecies about the whereabouts of horcruxes?”

Addy smiled. “No, I don't think so.”

“Right. Well, I dismiss you.”

Addy looked to Dumbledore, who nodded in an affirmative way. So she called Dobby again, and he took her back to her room.

~
November 2nd, 1995

[Oh by the way, don't let that 'Ron' friend of yours see what the Slytherins are doing tomorrow. I tried talking Draco out of it, but I didn't have much luck.]

That had been the cryptic message they'd received from Hypatia the night before the Gryffindor/Slytherin match. They'd written it down in case it was important.

Iliana wondered, as she got ready and went down to breakfast, what the Slytherins were doing this time. They'd already been engaging in psychological warfare against her team for the whole week leading up to the match, what more could they be up to? And something to do with Ron? What could that be? She didn't like it. Ron wasn't accustomed to the taunts of opposing teams like she was, and he had always been hot headed.

Ron wasn't at breakfast, not at first. Iliana had been eating already for five minutes before Dean and Seamus came into the Great Hall, pulling Ron along between them as surreptitiously as possible. Ron looked sweaty, pale, and sick.

“He hasn't caught some bug, has he?” Iliana asked, wondering if this was what Hypatia had been referring to.

“Nah, mate, he's just a wee bit nervous,” Seamus said.

“It'll be alright, Ron,” Dean said, adjusting his Quidditch uniform – Iliana had insisted the reserves attend in uniform in case they were needed. “You just need to eat something.”

Ron shook his head like they'd suggested he face a firing squad.

Ron received a rousing welcome at the Gryffindor table, where everyone was wearing red and gold, but far from raising Ron's spirits the cheers seemed to sap the last of his morale; he collapsed on to the nearest bench looking as though he were facing his final meal.

“I must've been mental to do this,” he said in a croaky whisper. “Mental.”

“No worries, Ron,” Iliana said. “It's just pre-game nerves. I had a bad case of them the first time, too. You'll be fine.”

“I'm rubbish,” croaked Ron. “I'm lousy. I can't play to save my life. What was I thinking?”

“You're a great Keeper as long as you ignore the Slytherins and the crowd as a whole. Just pretend they aren't there. Pretend we're playing scrimmage.”

“Right, like we'd be playing a friendly game with the Slytherins,” Ron said.

Hermione and Ginny sat down opposite them wearing red and gold scarves, gloves and rosettes.

"How're you feeling?" Ginny asked Ron, who was now staring into the dregs of milk at the bottom of his empty cereal bowl as though seriously considering attempting to drown himself in them.

"He's just nervous," said Iliana.

"Well, that's a good sign, I never feel you perform as well in exams if you're not a bit nervous," said Hermione heartily.

"Hello," said a vague and dreamy voice from behind them. Iliana looked up with a grin: Luna Lovegood had drifted over from the Ravenclaw table. Many people were staring at her and a few were openly laughing and pointing; she had managed to procure a hat shaped like a life-size lion's head, which was perched precariously on her head.

"Good morning, Iliana. I'm supporting Gryffindor," said Luna, pointing unnecessarily at her hat. "Look what it does . . ."

She reached up and tapped the hat with her wand. It opened its mouth wide and gave an extremely realistic roar that made everyone in the vicinity jump.

"It's good, isn't it?" said Luna happily. "I wanted to have it chewing up a serpent to represent Slytherin, you know, but there wasn't time. Anyway . . . good luck, Ronald!"

She set her hand on Iliana's shoulder gently, in a way Umbridge couldn't see, then drifted away. They had not quite recovered from the shock of Luna's hat before Angelina came hurrying towards them, accompanied by Katie and Alicia.

“We're ready when you are, Captain Potter,” Angelina said.

“Good. But Ron needs to eat something. You go on ahead without us, we'll catch up.”

It became clear after ten minutes, however, that Ron was not capable of eating anything more and Iliana thought it best to get him down to the changing rooms. As they rose from the table, Hermione got up, too, and taking Iliana's arm she drew him to one side.

"Don't let Ron see what's on those Slytherins' badges," she whispered urgently.

Iliana looked questioningly at her, but she shook her head warningly; Ron had just ambled over to them, looking lost and desperate.

"Good luck, Ron," said Hermione, standing on tiptoe and kissing him on the cheek. "And you, Iliana — "

Ron seemed to come to himself slightly as they walked back across the Great Hall. He touched the spot on his face where Hermione had kissed him, looking puzzled, as though he was not quite sure what had just happened. He seemed too distracted to notice much around him, but Iliana cast a curious glance at the crown-shaped badges as they passed the Slytherin table, and this time she made out the words etched on to them:

Weasley is our King

With an unpleasant feeling that this could mean nothing good, she hurried Ron across the Entrance Hall, down the stone steps and out into the icy air.

The frosty grass crunched under their feet as they hurried down the sloping lawns towards the stadium. There was no wind at all and the sky was a uniform pearly white, which meant that visibility would be good without the drawback of direct sunlight in the eyes. Iliana pointed out these encouraging factors to Ron as they walked, but she was not sure that Ron was listening.

When everyone was assembled in the Gryffindor locker room, Iliana began her speech.

“Right. So, my first game as Captain. This is the first game for some of you, too. Reserves, you're here in case the Slytherins put one of us into the Hospital Wing. I don't expect to need you, but better safe than sorry.

“I've only just got the final line-up for Slytherin,” she continued, consulting a piece of parchment. “Last year's Beaters, Derrick and Bole, have left, but Montague has replaced them with our two least favorite thugs, Crabbe and Goyle. Anyone who's unfamiliar with them, they're like a pair of dwarf trolls, with just as much going on in the brains department.” She paused for the smattering of nervous laughter her joke had elicited.

“Anyway, I want everyone to remember that no matter how well or poorly we do, this is still just a game. I don't want to lose, but if we do, life goes on. Don't stress out about this. Don't let the Slytherins get to you. You're all here because you're all great at Quidditch, you wouldn't be here if I didn't believe you could win this.

“McClaggen, I shouldn't have to say this because you're just a reserve, so I'm going to tell you just once today and if I have to tell you again, I'll be very angry: you do not know better than the rest of us. Even if you did, you are not the captain, I am. So don't offer any opinions or advice unless I ask for it. Understand?”

Glowering at her, McClaggen nodded.

“Good. I'll hold you to that. The rest of you, just remember your training, ignore the crowd, and play as well as you can. But don't stress out. Some nerves are good, but there comes a point you just have to buckle down and say 'Sod off!' to your anxieties. Understand?”

Everyone nodded. It was pretty clear to all of them she was talking mainly to Ron, but everyone was too polite to say anything.

“Good. One last thing: Umbridge is out there, watching us. Don't give her any excuse, no matter how feeble, to muck this up for us, if you can help it. Don't lose your cool, don't cheat, don't foul. Play a good, clean, friendly game. Don't retaliate against the Slytherins. It's unfair, I know, but she'll be looking for any excuse at all, that's the kind of woman she is, and she has the power to back up that nastiness because she's Minister Fudge's right hand woman. So we have to be above reproach. You can always get revenge on them later, if it comes to that. Understand?”

They all nodded. Even Ron, though just barely, as though afraid he was going to puke.

“Excellent. Now let's get out there and crush some snakes!”

The team rose, shouldered their brooms and marched in single file out of the changing room and into the dazzling sunlight, A roar of sound greeted them in which Iliana could still hear singing, though it was muffled by the cheers and whistles.

The Slytherin team was standing waiting for them. They, too, were wearing those silver crown-shaped badges. The new Captain, Montague, was built along the same lines as Dudley Dursley with massive forearms like hairy hams. Behind him lurked Crabbe and Goyle, almost as large, blinking stupidly in the sunlight, swinging their new Beaters' bats. Malfoy stood to one side, the sunlight gleaming on his white-blond head. He caught Iliana's eye and smirked, tapping the crown-shaped badge on his chest.

% When he finds out who Hypatia is, the look on his face is going to be priceless, % she thought, a grin on her face that made Malfoy look suddenly worried.

“Captains, shake hands,” Madam Hooch said, and Iliana offered Montague her left hand, braced for him to crush it into a thousand pieces. He did not disappoint. She tried not to let the pain reach her face, nor the relief when he finally let go. She hoped he hadn't actually broken anything in her hand, and was glad she'd thought to offer her off hand to him.

"Mount your brooms . . ."

Madam Hooch placed her whistle in her mouth and blew.

The balls were released and the fourteen players shot upwards. Out of the corner of her eye Iliana saw Ron streak off towards the goal hoops. Iliana zoomed higher, dodging a Bludger, and set off on a wide lap of the pitch, gazing around for a glint of gold; on the other side of the stadium, Draco Malfoy was doing exactly the same.

"And it's Johnson — Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me — "

"JORDAN!" yelled Professor McGonagall.

" — just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest — and she's ducked Warrington, she's passed Montague, she's — ouch — been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe . . . Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and — nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverse-passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away — "

Lee Jordan's commentary rang through the stadium and Iliana listened as hard as she could through the wind whistling in her ears and the din of the crowd, all yelling and booing and singing.

" — dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger — close call, Alicia — and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"

And as Lee paused to listen, the song rose loud and clear from the sea of green and silver in the Slytherin section of the stands:

"Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King!

"Weasley was born in a bin
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley will make sure we win
Weasley is our King!"

" — and Alicia passes back to Angelina!" Lee shouted, and as Iliana swerved, her insides boiling at what she had just heard; she knew Lee was trying to drown out the words of the song. "Come on now, Angelina — looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat! — SHE SHOOTS — SHE — aaaah . . ."

Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, had saved the goal; he threw the Quaffle to Warrington who sped off with it, zig-zagging in between Alicia and Katie; the singing from below grew louder and louder as he drew nearer and nearer Ron.

"Weasley is our King,
Weasley is our King,
He always lets the Quaffle in
Weasley is our King."

Iliana could not help herself: abandoning her search for the Snitch, she wheeled around to watch Ron, a lone figure at the far end of the pitch, hovering before the three goalhoops while the massive Warrington pelted towards him.

"— and it's Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he's out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead — "

A great swell of song rose from the Slytherin stands below:

"Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring . . ."

" — so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper Weasley, brother of Beaters Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the team — come on, Ron!"

But the scream of delight came from the Slytherins' end: Ron had dived wildly, his arms wide, and the Quaffle had soared between them straight through Ron's central hoop.

"Slytherin score!" came Lee's voice amid the cheering and booing from the crowds below, "so that's ten-nil to Slytherin — bad luck, Ron."

The Slytherins sang even louder, but Iliana had stopped listening. She'd gotten the gist. Instead, she looked harder for the snitch.

% You could have tried harder, Hypatia, % she thought.

[No, I really couldn't have. Not without being really suspicious. Anyway, if he can't take the heat, he should stay out of the kitchen. He wanted attention, now he's got it. A classic case of 'be careful what you wish for.']

(Come on, Ron, ignore the little inbred bastards!)

Al took control of the body then, and flew Iliana over near Ron, where he used her voice to shout, “Those little punk-ass shit-for-brains don't have anything to say worth listening to! They don't know you! You're worth 30 of them! TO HELL WITH 'EM! PROVE 'EM WRONG! GIVE 'EM THE PROVERBIAL TWO FINGERED SALUTE!”

Ron stared in shock at Iliana, especially since her form had momentarily blurred together with Al's, but then he gulped and nodded. He still looked anxious, but he also looked a little defiant and determined. Good. That's what Al had been going for.

“— and Pucey's dodged Alicia again and he's heading straight for goal, stop it, Ron!”

It was a near thing, Ron almost missed it, but he just barely squeaked by, blocking the shot so the Quaffle bounced off his hand and then off the goal hoop. A great cheer came from the crowd and from Iliana, who went back to hunting for the snitch. She passed a sour-faced Draco Malfoy, and stuck her tongue out at him as she zipped by.

Ron didn't stop all the goals. It wasn't an instant transition like you'd see in inspirational sports stories. But every time Ron missed one, Al came zooming back and gave him a profanity-laden pep talk. So despite a few Slytherin goals, Gryffindor was up in points, and Ron was looking determined and nervous in equal measure.

Iliana saw the snitch, that little bit of gold, down by one of the goal posts. She glanced at Draco, who hadn't seen it. Wanting to see if the score could creep up a little first, she zoomed off in the opposite direction. Draco took the bait and went after her. She reached forward like she was grabbing the snitch, zooming closer and closer to the ground...

“AHH!” she screamed, clutching her head in agony. Her scar was on fire, and she was still on a collision course with the ground. But she fought through the pain and pulled up so much at the last second that her broom's tail carved a furrow in the pitch, and she went spinning out of control.

It took everything she had to keep hold of her broom as she sped off in gods-knew which direction. She didn't know what way was up or down, north or south, east or west. She had no idea where the goal posts were, where the stands were. She could have been about to hit the stands for all she knew, and her scar was still burning like hot iron pressed to her forehead.

WHAM! She'd hit something, all forward momentum abruptly terminated, her Firebolt continuing on for a couple feet before stopping abruptly in mid-air. Somehow she was still conscious, and found herself sliding down a pole. She must have hit a goal post. Desperate to stop falling, she grabbed for the pole. Her hand wrapped around metal, but she kept falling. Finally, though, she managed to hook the goal post with one of her legs, and got enough of a grip on it that she stopped falling. Now she was hanging upside-down from the middle of the goal post.

“And it looks like Captain Potter hit a goal post, after that nasty plough she took. I hope she's – wait, is that the snitch? IT IS! SHE CAUGHT THE SNITCH! GRYFFINDOR WINS! TWO-HUNDRED TEN TO SIXTY!!!”

“Ugh... great,” she said weakly. “Can somebody get me down, now?”

“Sure thing, Potty,” said Bletchley with a sour, angry expression.

“Great. Of course I had to hit the Slytherin goal post. Never mind, Bletchley, I can get myself down.”

“Suit yourself, Potty.”

Pulling herself up by her legs, she then grabbed onto the goal post and got out her wand, casting a feather-light on herself. This enabled her to hold on long enough to Summon her Firebolt and climb back onto it. Its back end was messy with mud, and it looked like it might need some cosmetic repair, but it still flew just fine. Exhausted and beat-up, she flew down to the ground where the rest of the team was celebrating.

No sooner had she landed than Luna came running, Hermione and Neville hot on her tail, and grabbed Iliana in a passionate and worried embrace. Iliana got a faceful of roaring lion hat before Luna pulled it off of her head.

“I was so worried! I thought you were going to get hurt or worse!” Iliana noted, in something like grogginess, that Luna was crying.

“Yeah, I was pretty worried there myself, Luna. But I'm okay. A little sore and dazed, and—OW! And I think I broke a rib or three... but other than that, I'm fine.”

“Practising for your career as a pole-dancer, Potty?” Malfoy asked.

“Only in your wildest wet dreams,” she shot back. She was glad to see his face turn tomato red. A bunch of people around her laughed.

“Miss Potter, you should get to the Hospital Wing as soon as possible, if you think you've broken something,” McGonagall said. “And even if you haven't, it's better safe than sorry.”

Iliana looked lazily at McGonagall. “Oh, yeah. I know. I will, Professor.”

“What happened out there, Miss Potter?” McGonagall asked with concern.

Iliana paused to think. She'd spotted Umbridge coming this way. “Goggles came loose, something got in my eye,” she said. The plausibility of this lie was aided by the fact that her goggles were hanging off of one ear. When she realized this, she grabbed them and pocketed them.

“I see. Well you'd better have that eye looked at as well, Miss Potter.”

“I'll do that. I'll be back later, everyone. Gotta go to the Wospital Hing. I mean the Hospital Wing.”

The moment she started to walk again, though, she wobbled so badly she collapsed into Luna. “OW!” she said, her broken ribs reminding her they were there.

“Alright, somebody take me there, I can't do it myself after all.”

~

She'd been right. Madam Pomfrey confirmed that she'd broken three ribs and added that she'd cracked a vertebrae. She also had a cut on her head and had a mild concussion. She hadn't noticed the cut because the blood hadn't left her hair.

Luna, Ron, and Hermione came in to visit her once she was patched up.

“Kónos siopís,” Hermione cast, her wand making an upward spiral.

“Mastered that one, I see,” Iliana said. “Good.”

“So what really happened, Iliana?” Ron asked. “One minute you're diving for the snitch, and the next minute you screamed and hit the ground and ran into a goal post!”

“Yes, don't tell us this rubbish about something in your eye,” Hermione said.

“Yeah, that was a lie for Umbridge's benefit. My scar hurt. That's why I screamed and almost became part of the earth again.”

“Your scar hurt? But why?”

Iliana looked around the room. There wasn't anyone else there, but she decided not to take any chances. Getting out her wand, she cast Hominem Revelio. She detected only her friends, and Madam Pomfrey in her office. So she then cast Labia Abscondam, a spell with the incantation 'orationem abscondam,' and 'Ego occultatum.'

“What's with all the high security?” Ron asked.

“When Vol—Moldywart rose last June, he used my blood to make his new body. Nobody suspected that with the Philosopher's Stone hidden inside by Zoey, that this was a monumentally bad idea for him. The ritual activated parts of the Stone that were in my blood, or linked to my blood somehow. Anyway, point is, all summer long instead of waging war, Moldyshorts was busy having to deal with the Stone transmuting every metal in his body into gold – which included calcium, sodium, potassium, and a bunch of other obscure metals.

“So his bones were breaking, he was having seizures, experiencing memory problems, and generally having a bloody awful summer. Meanwhile, the only reason he didn't die again is because the Stone was also turning the water in his blood into Elixir of Life.”

Hermione gasped, as though the thought of even someone as evil as Voldemort suffering that fate was too horrible to imagine. Ron blinked in astonishment and said “Really?” When Iliana confirmed she was serious, he started to snort with repressed laughter, then laughed so hard the only thing keeping Madam Pomfrey from running into the room was the spells Iliana had cast. Iliana looked at Luna. Like Hermione, she looked sad, but in a 'shaking her head sadly' sort of way.

When quiet had returned, Iliana said, “Over the summer, they... killed him again. So they could redo the resurrection ritual. But it takes a couple months to get him back up to enough health to try again. When my scar hurt earlier... I was a bit preoccupied with not dying, but thinking back on it... he's back. Again.”

“So we had a reprieve we didn't know about, but now it's gone?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah.”

“Wait, does this mean you were technically lying to Umbridge when you said he's back?” Ron asked.

“Not really. I did see him come back. I only have... Dumbledore's word that he'd been ill, and that he'd been killed again later. I knew about it because he had to consult me to try to figure out what was going on with Moldyshorts. Anyway, the scar hurting means I know for sure he's still alive. Or alive again, rather. And he was... happy. Happy to be back.”

Luna hugged her, for what Iliana sensed was more Luna's benefit than hers.

“Don't worry. Now we know he's back, we're putting up our occlumency barriers again.”

~

Madam Pomfrey insisted Iliana stay overnight at the hospital wing for observation, as she usually did for accidents like this. And so, Iliana wasn't with Ron, Hermione, and Neville when they went to go meet Hagrid, who had returned from his trip to the land of the Giants. It had been an amazing tale that Adira and the others wished they could have heard first-hand, even if Umbridge did almost catch them out of bounds past curfew.

Only one member of the Potter crew hadn't been bound by their imprisonment in the Hospital Wing: Hypatia. She had a constant connection going with the transfigured construct that looked like her, and as soon as curfew hit, this construct had climbed out of the trunk with the Marauder's Map and gone to visit Draco and mock him – just a little – for the failure of his Weasley Is Our King song.

She also spent some time on her other projects. While she was working on Project Arachnophobia, her omniocular spy-ders noticed a disturbance in the Forbidden Forest, and saw that Hagrid had brought a Giant back with him. Hypatia sighed and rubbed her construct's eyes wearily, but ultimately decided to just keep an eye on this new situation. Hopefully it wouldn't interfere with any of her plans.

[Well no wonder it took him forever to get back,] she thought.

~

Hermione had visited Hagrid on Sunday to plead with him to teach something boring in class, and tried to drive home the point by pointing out that Sirius had been sacked already. But Hagrid was insistent on doing his own thing, Umbridge be damned.

Hermione returned from Hagrid's just before lunch, shivering slightly, her robes damp to the knees.

"So?" said Ron, looking up when she entered. "Got all his lessons planned for him?"

"Well, I tried," she said dully, sinking into a chair beside Adira. She pulled out her wand and gave it a complicated little wave so that hot air streamed out of the tip; she then pointed this at her robes, which began to steam as they dried out. "He wasn't even there when I arrived, I was knocking for at least half an hour. And then he came stumping out of the Forest — "

"What's he keeping in there? Did he say?" Ron asked.

"Kónos siopís,” Adira found herself casting, stopping Hermione from speaking. She was confused until she felt Hypatia speak.

“Hagrid brought a Giant back with him.”

“He WHAT?” Hermione shouted. Luckily, nobody outside of their small group could hear her.

“A Giant. He brought one back with him. It looked a little on the runty side for a Giant, when I saw it. Must be a juvenile. If it is, I'm disappointed in Hagrid, kidnapping a child.”

“A Giant child!” Ron said.

“If it's a juvenile,” Hermione said. “It might just be abnormally short for a Giant. How big was it?”

“It looked to be about 15 or 16 feet tall,” Hypatia said.

“How do you know any of this when you were in the Hospital Wing all night long?” Hermione asked.

“Because Hypatia can be in two places at once,” Adira said. “She's who was talking just a bit ago.”

“Oh don't speak rubbish,” Hermione said.

“No, it's really true. Here, I'll let her explain it.”

Without changing their form, Hypatia explained the process in enough detail to get the gist without giving away too much. Ron looked flabbergasted, and Hermione was speechless for some time.

“Holy CRICKET!” she finally said. “That's really impressive magic!”

“Yes, well I had to cheat a lot to get it done.”

“Even more impressive for doing it in a non-standard way. Hypatia... you're not going to publish any of this, are you?”

“Nope. Much too dangerous in the wrong hands. It's far worse than Polyjuice Potion could ever be. Though I'm not certain how many witches or wizards could actually manage to control one. Only downside to it is that the construct can't cast magic. So I still have to go out for real on occasion. Oh and Ron? If you ever tell the Twins about this, I will personally ensure you can only speak in limericks for the rest of your life.”

“There's no need to threaten me,” Ron complained.

“Good,” Hypatia said.

After a moment, Ron said, “Wait, does that mean Hypatia was in the Forbidden Forest? What if one of these constructs of hers gets caught?”

“I wasn't in the forest. I can see into the forest from the Chamber of Secrets.”

“You WHAT?” Ron said.

“How?” Hermione asked.

“There's a room down there, you can see the entire school and grounds down there through a sort of magical security system. Well, the corridors, classrooms, and common rooms, anyway. Personal spaces and toilets are inaccessible.” She decided not to mention the fact her spy-ders could compensate for that. “Well, I mean, there is one toilet I can see into. Apparently the entrance Riddle was using – the one in Myrtle's bathroom – was just a storage closet back in the day, and got converted into a toilet later. The main entrance to the Chamber is in Slytherin's quarters.”

“Slytherin's quarters? And where's that at?” asked Hermione.

“In the dungeons, of course,” Ron said.

“You'd think so, but apparently not. It seems Slytherin was indeed pretty clever and cunning. When Helga Hufflepuff made the Room of Requirement, Slytherin sneaked in and made a couple modifications to the Room. Main one being that the main entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is inside the Room of Requirement.”

“WHAT?”

“Yes. It's not at all easy to get in that way, though. I think it was easier once upon a time, but someone else along the way made it more difficult. So I still use the 'back door' in Myrtle's bathroom.”

“How do you do that without getting messy?”

“I have my ways.”

“You mentioned two modifications to the Room,” Hermione said. “What's the second one?”

“A secret passageway out of the castle that nobody else likely knows about. I think it leads into the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade, but I haven't actually gone down it yet to verify that.”

“Wow!” said Ron. “And it's not on the Marauder's Map?”

“A lot of stuff isn't on the Map. The Marauders could only map what they knew about. The House Elf quarters aren't on the map, the Room of Requirement isn't on it, and neither is the Chamber of Secrets or either of its two main entrances.”

“House elf quarters?” Ron asked.

“Well yes, they have to live somewhere. They do need sleep, just like humans. They work in shifts.”

“Where are their quarters?”

“I haven't bothered to look. We could ask Dobby, but I don't really care. I don't feel like it'd be polite to bother them in their own space.”

Hermione nodded. “Well I don't know about you lot, Addy, but I know Ron still has homework to finish for tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I'd better get on that,” Ron said with a sigh.

Adira tore down the privacy spells, and spent the rest of the night reading. Adira liked to get her homework done as soon as possible, so she didn't have to worry about it and hurry at the last minute like Ron did.

~

Monday passed by with relative ease. Umbridge seemed mildly excited about something – Addy thought she knew what – and was distracted during class. Snape was more reserved than usual, not being nearly as snippy as he usually was. She thought he was trying to give the impression of muted happiness, but the little tells in his body language that she'd learned to read gave away the fact he was feeling disturbed but resolute, so she thought she knew what that was about as well. Though she wished he'd stop glancing at her when he thought she wasn't looking; she wasn't sure what that particular look was about, but it was related somehow to why he felt disturbed.

(Maybe Moldyshorts is trying to get Snape to kidnap us for him?) Al suggested. Addy didn't respond; she didn't know how to respond to that.

So Monday passed quickly for a Monday and became Tuesday. Charms and Transfiguration went well, but after lunch was Care of Magical Creatures, and none of them were keen to find out what Hagrid had in mind for his first lesson, especially since he looked like he'd been fighting mountain trolls and losing.

Lunch finished, they went to Hagrid's hut for their first class of the year with Hagrid. As she worried what he would bring to class, she thought a much better gift to Hagrid than letting him teach would have been letting him train as a wizard so he could own a legal wand, seeing as he'd had nothing to do with the Chamber of Secrets thing he'd been framed for. Surely Dumbledore could manage that? Well, not at the moment maybe, but once the Ministry came back to its senses?

They were surprised to find that Umbridge wasn't there yet. They didn't dare hope she'd be absent for Hagrid's class, not with Adira there to try to rile up.

Hagrid was taking them into the Forbidden Forest today, something most of them were not at all keen to do, especially Draco. He clearly still hadn't forgotten his first/last foray into the forest. Adira thought it odd that the Forbidden Forest was apparently only forbidden without a teacher along for the trip. Bit of a misnomer, that.

Getting more excited as they got farther in, Hagrid's enthusiasm wasn't helping matters, especially since he was still beat up and very bruised. He wouldn't explain what had done it to him, but Addy thought she knew: the Giant in the Forest.

For Adira, finally seeing what Hagrid had come to show them was anticlimactic and a relief, as it was just thestrals. Everyone else in class was afraid of them, even Neville to a degree, which was odd because apparently he'd been able to see them for years as well.

Holding her tongue for most of the early part of the lesson, Addy finally got annoyed when everyone gasped as Hermione explained that only people who'd seen death could see thestrals.

“Honestly,” Addy said, “what's all this fuss about? They pull the school carriages! They always have! I've been able to see them since the end of first year! Heck, Luna sometimes comes out and feeds them! If they weren't safe to be around, they wouldn't be trusted with the carriages!”

“Loony sneaks into the Forbidden Forest to feed invisible freaky monsters?” Draco asked, sneering.

“Um... I don't think Luna actually goes in. She knows how to call them, like Hagrid does,” Addy lied. While Luna probably did know how to call them, Addy knew for a fact that Luna went into the Forbidden Forest to feed them.

It was a good thing she lied, though, because there was a horribly familiar sound just then.

"Hem, hem."

Professor Umbridge had arrived. She was standing a few feet away from Addy, wearing her green hat and cloak again, her clipboard at the ready. Hagrid, who had never heard Umbridge's fake cough before, was gazing in some concern at the closest Thestral, evidently under the impression that it had made the sound.

"Hem, hem."

"Oh, hello!" Hagrid said, smiling, having located the source of the noise.

"You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?" said Umbridge, in a loud, slow voice, as though she were addressing somebody both foreign and very slow. "Telling you that I would be inspecting your lesson?"

As the conversation between her and Hagrid unfolded, Addy and the others focused on their occlumency, trying to stay calm. It wasn't easy. Umbridge kept talking to Hagrid like he was mentally handicapped, pretended she couldn't understand his accent (honestly, it wasn't nearly as bad as some of the accents she'd heard other students using), and flustering Hagrid more and more the longer things went for. She also slowly and loudly said aloud what she was writing on her clipboard as she wrote it, making Draco and the other Slytherins laugh. Hypatia frowned at him, not that he'd think anything of that, though, since he couldn't see her. But she was going to remind him of his truce, and remind him that Hagrid was one of “Potter's” friends.

Worse than that, though, was her walking around among the class asking questions of the Slytherins, questions that were extremely racist and rude against Hagrid. Addy wondered how Umbridge expected to get an accurate idea of Hagrid's teaching style when she kept disrupting his lesson. But she didn't dare say this to the bitch aloud, in case it was considered “back sass” enough to get Addy in detention again.

But there were outward signs of the internal struggle, for anyone who happened to glance over at the right time. Her features were blurring and shifting, like it was taking a massive effort to maintain her present appearance. What sounded like a stiff wind gushed through the treetops, knocking off small branches and sending them flying sideways. The thestrals all backed away from her, looking agitated. This caught the attention of people like Neville, who could see them. Several pairs of eyes looked her way, including Hagrid's. He looked worried.

Now Umbridge was looking at her, too.

“Oh my, is something amiss, Mr. Potter?”

Hagrid stared at Umbridge incredulously at these words before looking back at Adira. “Addy? Wha's t'matter?”

“What?” Addy asked, in a perfectly calm voice. “Nothing wrong here that I know of.”

Her face blurred again, her hair shortening on one side of her head, her eye color changing on that side. Al was trying to hold himself back as well, but wasn't succeeding well. One leg got taller, and she almost fell over.

“Mr. Potter, you are disrupting this class. As High Inquisitor, I shall have to insist you stop,” she said, but it was clear by her tone and expression that she wanted them to do the opposite.

Addy tried her best to look confused. “I'm not disrupting this class, Madam Umbridge.” She stopped herself before she could say the implied 'You are.'

Umbridge stalked forward like a tiger—no, more like a very fat weasel with short legs—on the prowl. She was smirking at Addy.

“Who would you say is disrupting this class, then?” Umbridge asked her quietly.

“Well,” she said equally quietly, carefully weighing her words, “since you asked... I just find it... interesting that you're asking students questions about the class and its teacher while Professor Hagrid is trying to teach class, Professor Umbridge. You didn't do that in any of the other classes you inspected. It appears to be making Professor Hagrid's job very difficult. I'm sure you didn't do it on purpose. I'm sure you just had a brilliant new idea for your job and got so excited you had a momentary lapse of etiquette. After all, you yourself told me that we must respect teachers.”

She moved even closer to Addy and said quietly but sharply, “Are you criticizing my methods, Mr. Potter?”

“Oh I would never dream of doing that, Professor!” Addy said, looking shocked. “I was simply curious about the change in technique is all. I only ask because Professor Hagrid seems to be finding it difficult to teach with you talking over him. I just thought maybe you hadn't noticed this little faux pas of yours in your enthusiasm for your job. I was trying to point it out gently and quietly to you so you could correct it without embarrassment. After all, you taught me we have to respect all teachers, Professor Umbridge. Or did I misunderstand that lesson?”

Ah, talking like this to her was calming them down. Their body was returning to normal, the thestrals were calming, and the apparent wind had died out. Umbridge, however, was looking sour.

“I am not quite sure what you mean, Mr. Potter. Which lesson would that be?”

“Well, the one where you said – and I quote – 'contradicting teachers is disrespecting them.' Which is why I didn't try to correct your faux pas until you asked me who I thought was being disruptive, Professor. I had hoped I was being subtle enough for you to catch it and realize your mistake on your own. I apologize that I'm not better at subtlety, Professor.”

“And you think my words apply to 'Professor' Hagrid, do you?”

“I assumed so, yes. After all, everyone has their own ideas about what makes a good teacher or a bad teacher. Professor Binns was universally considered a bad teacher, and Professor Snape is considered by many to be a bad teacher. But we must respect all teachers, even if we think they're bad teachers. I presumed that's why I was made to write 'I must not contradict my teachers.' It seemed obvious that the lesson was that we have to respect teachers, no matter what, because we are just lowly students. Was I wrong, Professor?”

Addy could almost hear the gears turning in Umbridge's head as she tried to find some way to twist this into an excuse to give Addy a detention. But Addy was being calm, polite, careful with her words, her expression looking politely curious, and she was quoting Umbridge's own words back at her.

“I see,” Umbridge finally said. There was a pause, Addy waiting patiently, before she added, “Hmph,” and walked off.

Umbridge spent the rest of the class writing in her clipboard silently. The Slytherins tried taking up the slack, but with a very sour expression, Umbridge said through gritted teeth, “You must respect teachers, Mr. Malfoy, even sub-standard ones. It is not a student's place to disrespect a teacher.” She broke a pencil then, and repaired it with her wand. “We have rules in polite society, those rules must be followed.”

She did not speak again until after class was dismissed, but her attempts to talk to the other students were thwarted by people being keen to get to their next class on time.

Ron, Hermione, and Neville caught up to her on their way to the greenhouses.

“Did you get another detention?” Hermione asked.

“Nope. Instead, I discovered that I too have a talent for using words to outmaneuver people. I threw her own words back at her. That's her secret, I think: no matter how awful she is, she never does anything against the rules. She always has to find some way to work within the rules, even if that entails changing the rules. So I used her own love of the rules against her. Set it up so that anything she did to Hagrid in his class would be seen as being a poor role model for the students. She wants us all to be well-behaved little robots, so when I made her realize she was undermining her own desire for order, she found herself painted into a corner. She even had to defend Hagrid against Malfoy, if she didn't want to encourage the spread of chaos and disrespect of teachers.”

Her three friends all laughed at this, Neville looking awed as he laughed with them.

“I think I have a new hobby now,” Addy said.

To their surprise, they found Umbridge at Herbology, as well. She glared at Addy but was mostly quiet as she wrote things on her clipboard. It wasn't until toward the end of the lesson when something happened.

“OW! It bit me!” Umbridge shouted. “GET IT OFF!”

She was being bitten by a Chinese Chomping Cabbage. Professor Sprout cast a spell at it that made it let go and hop away.

“I think these plants are far too dangerous to be covered by this class! What if some hooligan lets these beasts free and they hurt other innocent people? Or students?”

Professor Sprout looked too scared to speak. To everyone's surprise, the next words were from Neville.

“You were poking it with your pencil, Professor, and hurting it. Of course it bit you! Professor.”

Umbridge glared at Neville now, but he didn't back down. “Chinese Chomping Cabbages don't normally bite people. It's a defense mechanism. It thought you were going to hurt it or kill it, so it got scared and bit you.”

“Fifteen points from Gryffindor, Mr. Longbottom,” Umbridge said, in a flustered voice. There was a smattering of outcry against this, but Addy just rolled her eyes and went back to working with her own cabbage.

“He's right, you know,” Professor Sprout said. “I did mention that at the beginning of class, in fact, Professor Umbridge.”

“Well you should put some kind of wire cage around them if they're that dangerous,” Umbridge said, and went back to silently writing on her clipboard.

When Umbridge left, Neville was still helping put things away. Professor Sprout peeked out to make sure she was actually going, then said, “Twenty points to Gryffindor for correctly identifying the problem, Mr. Longbottom.”

Neville smiled. “Thank you, Professor Sprout.”

Endnotes: Ego occultatum = “I have hidden.” Intended as a notice-me-not spell. One of the spells the Potters found in a book.

Orationem abscondam = “Speech hide” Iliana's being a mite paranoid with this one in addition to the cone of silence spell. Also a “found in a book” spell.

Thanks to Deviant Art user Hogwarts-Castle for floor plans to the castle.