beyondwandpoint | “beyond wandpoint” 083b by gingerbred

“11 11w Tuesday - Snakes' Nest” Part 2

Pansy Parkinson 7S (Prefect), Alberta Runcorn 7S, Tracey Davis 7S, Daphne Greengrass 7S, Millicent 'Millie' Bulstrode (Reserve Beater), Róisín Rosier 6S, Hestia Carrow 6S (Chaser), Flora Carrow 6S, Valerie 'Val' Vaisey 6S (Chaser), Ella Wilkins 6S (Prefect), Sharon Shafiq 1S, Astoria 'Tori' Greengrass 5S, Ava Avery 5S

Harper Hutchinson 6S (Prefect, Chaser), Aaron Avery 6S (Reserve Chaser), Sheldon Shafiq 6S (Reserve Beater), Hunter Hutchinson 4S, Bartholomew 'Bart' Burke 5S, Crankshaft (Harper's half-Kneazle)

Mentioned: Draco 7S (Prefect, Team Captain, Seeker), Theo Nott 7S, Blaise Zabini 7S (Keeper), Vincent 'Vince' Crabbe 7S (Beater), Morag MacDougal 7R, Michael Corner 7R, Terry Boot 7R

Originally Published: 2018-08-04 on AO3
Chapter: 083 part 2

The original version of this chapter exceeded livejournal’s maximum post length. It’s been split in two parts.

In the sixth year boys' room, Harper has gathered the other non-seventh year boys around him. He has a much more difficult time calling them to order than Pansy had with the girls, though, and as he deals with their muppetry, it occurs to him that he's usually good for interjecting and not leading these sorts of things. Bugger. His role is to point out the flaws in strategy and opportunities overlooked. He's finding this a lot less... fun.

Fellow sixth year Aaron Avery, as a mere Reserve player all too eager to make points with the Prefect, Chaser and next year's probable Team Captain, turns a freezing Aguamenti on some rambunctious fifth years in a bid for quiet. That, however, only draws the very vocal protestations of Sheldon Shafiq, not unpredictably as they were seated on his bed, and a very brief exchange of Hexes promptly takes place.

Also not that unpredictably.

"Enough!" Harper shouts. He's really already had enough, and they haven't even begun. He throws up a respectable Protego to at least put an end to... this. It would have helped more if it hadn't reflected Sheldon's last Hex right back at the caster, and he's now sporting glittery, purple fairy wings, of all things. Perfect. Well, that was new. Daphne would probably just love them. He'll be sure to mention it.

Harper runs a hand over his head in frustration, an advantage of his close-cropped hair being there's no trace of the gesture when he's done. Hunter gives him a too wide smile, bless his little heart, and follows it with a thumbs up, for fuck's sake (Harper blames any and all association with Creeveys for that, with no doubts or hesitation, and wonders that he hadn't suspected it before), the fourth year truly lacks subtlety. Wilfred Wilkes, seated beside him on Harper's bed gives Hunter a good poking to the ribs until he tones it down. It ends in giggles as it must.

Crankshaft, Harper's ginger half-Kneazle who'd cleverly taken cover when the Hexes began flying, now hops up on the bed and curls himself onto Hunter's lap batting the boy's chest until he gets sufficient control of himself to begin petting him. It's rewarded by a steady stream of rumbling purrs that make Hunter smile.

Shaking his head, Harper addresses Sheldon, whose wings are now fluttering, and the sodden fifth years that had been gathered around him have slid to the floor to give them more space to beat, "Will you need to see Pomfrey about that?"

"Merlin, no! I'm not going anywhere like this," Sheldon hastens to assure him, not really answering the question in the process.

"It's unusual, I'll give you that," Aaron sort of praises the Hex, relieved not to be the one sitting there flapping.

"Mum has quite the collection of books," Sheldon explains almost proudly enough to forget his wings, fwump fwump fwumping behind him.

"Is it going to go away on it's own, or do you know the Countercharm?" Harper tries to drag their attention back to the matters at hand. He gets the sense he's going to be sorry, very sorry, they're about to dismiss Draco as their leader. Looking at the group, there are two with bright pink hair, one in vibrant green pumps (people so rarely protect their footwear against Spells as they do their clothes...), three sets of antlers (the Anteoculatia seems en vogue again), one horn (spiralled), and a Bedazzling Hex that has rendered the upper body of one of the third years so bright he can't directly look at it, presumably by targeting his shirt.

Splendid.

Say what you will, the boys are prolific Hexers. And probably need to spend some serious time practicing their Protegos. Nits. If the Professor catches wind of this, the whole lot of them will be practicing just that until the Christmas hols. It makes a difference that they trust one another not to go too far. But still... Poor showing all around.

"Right. I'm not going to be the one to explain to Professor Snape what just happened here..." Harper starts.

Bartholomew Burke, one of the sopping fifth years, a slight boy, improbably more sallow than the Head himself, chuckles something about interrupting him during his honeymoon and Harper rounds on him with the full fury the boys have fanned. Or maybe that was Sheldon's wings.

"Really? That's your response? You think that's appropriate?" The Drying Charm he unleashes on him is so strong, the boy begins to squirm in his seat, and soon his robes start to steam. The other boys on the floor around him begin scrambling to slide over for a second time, this time trying to get well clear of him. Hunter grins a little; he knows his brother and trusts him not to let things get out of hand, but he doesn't altogether mind watching Bart steam. The fifth year can be a bit of a plonker.

"Why do you think we're here, Bart? What were we about to discuss?"

Honestly, a couple of them have to think about that, unclear on their goals from the outset, and a handful of others need to recall it to mind. A good hexing is so diverting...

Harper just stands there envying Ella. For one thing, Pansy has almost definitely taken the girls' counterpart to... this off her hands. And somehow he doubts they're over there hexing each other. He also can't imagine next year, when Pansy's gone, that they'll have to face anything remotely of this kind. It's not like the Professor could be pressured to get bonded twice...

Well, theoretically he could be widowed and then it could happen... But it's not very likely. In addition to somewhat facetiously trying and failing to picture his classmates ever equaling the current seventh years' stupidity (yes, in spite of Aaron's Aguamenti), quite frankly Harper supposes there's a Protection Vow in play that makes the Professor's chances of surviving being widowed virtually... nil. No, this is incredibly serious stuff indeed.

And he has to drum that into the boys in this room.

Without exposing his flank.

Pansy has an easier time of it, no doubt. Everyone is willing to believe she's in line with You-Know-Who and his people. Or not, as need be. The Parkinsons have handled that well. Harper's position is far less secure. More poorly defined. At moments like these, that is a serious disadvantage. But he's the type to rise to a challenge.

"For disrespecting our Head, Bartholomew, you can tidy up the room." Bart is about to complain, that's not one of the Prefect's punishment options, but Harper's lip curls in a cruel grin, "Or you can explain to everyone else why you'd prefer that I take House points?" That does the trick, and grumbling, Bart gets up and starts applying Drying Charms to Sheldon's bed. The winged sixth year yelps as he leaps clear to let him at it, joining the fifth years on the floor, who now again find themselves having to budge over to make room for those ridiculous wings.

Aaron is happy to direct Bart to a few things he feels absolutely require his attention. The curtains around Sheldon's bed, for example, look the worse for wear from the good old Avery Aguamenti; just look at those wrinkles. He takes some pleasure in bossing the younger boy around, and can't help thinking it's a pity Professor Snape had done away with the time honoured tradition of having the junior pupils fagging for the more senior set when he became Head of House. Professor Slughorn had had a lot of stories to tell about it. Naturally the thought is more appealing now that Aaron's sat his O.W.L.s and presumably wouldn't be doing the fagging himself. It's safe to assume he'd be less nostalgic were he likely to have to do the work.

Harper and the remaining sixth years address the various Jinxes and Hexes, and soon, with the very notable exception of Sheldon's fucking wings, everyone is set to rights. Harper will never understand why people learn the damn Hexes without learning their Counters, but there it is. Sometimes he finds his Housemates so utterly vapid, he wonders that the lot of them weren't sorted into Gryffindor. And then he immediately wonders if he's being too disloyal. The thought borders on sacrilege, after all. Looking at Sheldon again, however, sporting sparkly fairy wings of his own casting...

"No, really, I'll be fine sleeping on my stomach," Sheldon tries once again to convince the others to just let this ride. Well, they can always fetch help in the morning. One of the Moggies had been walking around with a tail the other day. This probably isn't any worse.

Although on consideration, possibly less useful...

Harper just shakes his head again. "Let's get a couple of things clear first, shall we..."

The boys have a much harder go of it than the girls. As the Death Eaters look primarily to their numbers for recruitment, the need to avoid even remotely broaching a whole host of topics is critical. It isn't a tendency to over-dramatise, it truly could be crucial to the safety not only of those present but also their families. That it could actually go so far as to mean life or death was an incredibly painful lesson that Harper had learnt only too well and at a very young age. He's not likely to forget it. Perhaps for that reason, they are extremely lucky that he's the one managing their meeting. While it takes them far longer to achieve far less than the girls do, no one is put in a situation where he has to expose himself or his nearest and dearest. Nothing is said, Harper takes the greatest pains to ensure it, that will have unfortunate repercussions for any of his Housemates.

He might not enjoy the job, but he's done it well.

They are essentially agreed as to the facts, much as the girls had been. For their parts, they are even more certain that the Professor will have been forced to take a Protection Vow, and that the inevitable result of that must ultimately be death. They speak of it openly. Unless she dies a natural death without ever being in danger first, and even they know she's repeatedly been in harm's way just since starting Hogwarts, the Head will almost assuredly be forced to fight to try to save her. Most likely to the death, because the escalation probable in that constellation can quickly make what might have been a non-lethal threat very deadly indeed.

Given the current political climate, the precarious future that almost certainly looms for the Muggle-born, that result is all too likely to come sooner than later. They sidestep issues of the justifications and concentrate on the probability of this. They studiously avoid all talk of whether they believe the Dark Lord's forces will ultimately hold the Ministry, and only weigh the likelihood the Death Eaters will ever sieze control. They feel it's a near certainty. And they don't believe she can be saved.

Which means this... this has been nothing shy of inflicting homicidal idiocy on the man.

Dumblebore deserves their very worst, they're agreed. And at a complete loss of how to deliver it. It's futile and they quickly move on.

The blame doesn't rest with the Headmaster alone.

Deliberations as to the seventh years' actions are quickly held to be useless; it can't be determined and makes no difference. What matters is the results.

They've practically murdered the Head, as surely as if they'd managed to give him a slow acting poison.

Despite their agreement as to the threat the Head faces, it proves impossible to agree to take active measures to help protect a Muggle-born, his Protection Vow notwithstanding. The risk for many of them should they do so is just too great. They couldn't sensibly do it.

And yet Harper can't help thinking how precisely that Muggle-born leapt - alone and presumably without any promise of assistance - into a fray of seven duelling boys and helped his little brother when he was outnumbered. She almost certainly had no way of knowing how well the Slytherin portraits are organised. He assumes the Baron had sent for help.

He accepts the limitations that the Slytherin boys' complicated home situations create; he'd be the last person to insist they put themselves in danger. But he would also be a very poor Snake indeed if he took that as the final word. So he goes over their options with them again, very carefully.

Somewhat ironically, they soon resolve to uphold the luncheon decision to defend Madam Snape against any external slights. They have their House honour to consider. Admittedly the chances of anyone else calling her a Mudblood, say, were quite slim. Still, after further discussion they come to accept that internal slights would be intolerably disrespectful to their Head, and decide to leave off of those.

But perhaps that public showing of support will discourage any attempts to actually threaten her. Most of them hope that's the case, if only for the Professor's sake.

Harper is satisfied he's gotten what he could from them on that score, but they won't remain idle.

As they regrettably can't help the Head directly by lightening the burden of his Protection Vow, they decide they should seek to avenge him. The focus, they are sure, must be on making the seventh year boys pay for what they've done to the Professor. The boys can't coordinate their efforts like the girls have done, again it risks exposure, but there's a suggestion made that they will stand by one another in any measures taken against the seventh years, and that they needn't fear reprisals no matter how extreme the action.

In this much they are in accord.

Unfortunately as there's no counterpart to Daphne amongst them (which makes perfect sense as she's a rather singular witch), sadly there's no one to point out that perhaps they should exclude Theo from whatever measures they take against the boys. Predictably, that will lead to the inescapable results.

The only objection, and frightfully manly young wizards that they are, they all immediately find it terribly sensible, is that whatever they do, it should in no way interfere with the boys' ability to play Quidditch. After the match, it should go without saying, they're fair game. Until the next one, naturally.

Still, that's a risky strategy, and Harper pulls Aaron and Sheldon (and his godsdamned wings) aside after the others have left and informs them they'll be practicing with him every day on the pitch during lunch right up until the match, just to be on the safe side. They need to be fit to play. They need to be fit to win.

"Is there anything else we should discuss?" Pansy asks into the round. It's getting late, it's been a trying day, her Charms are wearing off, and her cheek has begun to twitch. Just a little.

Ella, helpful witch that she is, poses a question of her own, "Well, is there anything else we should be doing? Anything else that needs taking care of?"

"It might help to know more about bonds," Tracey suggests. Several pairs of eyes tick to Róisín. "I was thinking research," she quickly clarifies, not wanting to broach the subject of the sixth year's aunt again.

"Pomfrey's out of Pain Relief," Alberta adds to the pot. "The Head's been out of commission and couldn't brew any. We could take that off his hands." Easy for her to say, as Alberta wouldn't be doing the brewing.

"Fine. I could do that," Tracey agrees. She's the only one of the seventh year girls in Potions. "But it won't help him much, though. There's no way Madam Pomfrey will accept my work unless it goes through him. And I shouldn't like to be the one to suggest he needs to resort to relying on my help."

Everyone sees the sense in that immediately. There are a couple of shudders as a few of the more imaginative girls try to picture such a conversation. No, that way lies madness.

But even if Tracey were to brew it just for them, it would still be helpful, they are sure. And it wouldn't just help them. When they are suitably taken care of, they don't need to seek out assistance, to disturb the Professor. Rumour had it, Theo had resorted to Stupefying Draco after some mishap or another just last night. Mind, tonight they can understand the desire to, can they ever, but put practically, most people would go knocking on the Professor's door first. Of course, it seems he was in the Infirmary, but that wasn't the point. The more self sufficient they are, the less work they'll be. They need to be less work.

"Thing is," Tracey tries to make clear, "except for Harper this weekend, the only ones who've needed it lately are the boys..." There's no need to expand on which boys she means. It's all too obvious. "After the Serpents today, there's no way they aren't going to want some tomorrow morning. So were you planning on supplying them?"

She directs the question at Alberta, who evades, "Well, that's irrelevant as we won't have any by then."

Still, it's a matter of principle that needs clearing. All quickly come to the conclusion that if they have their own supply, they can regulate how it's dispensed, and those boys needn't benefit from the fruits of their, well, Tracey's labours. That sits well with the seventh year, and she consents to brew the Potion tomorrow.

Millie a little shyly and very tentatively suggests she could take some of the preparation for Charms off Tracey's hands? Tracey manages to politely decline (she's worked well ahead of where they need to be, but thanks for the kind offer) without making Millie either look or feel like a fool. That had been a risk given how much better Tracey is in the course, but then she can be good that way; Millie had relied upon it.

Flora then offers to help Tracey with the brewing, several others volunteer supplies from their stores, and soon that's resolved. And effectively eliminates Tracey as the obvious choice for research, which had essentially been Alberta's objection to begin with.

After a bit more polite... discussion, Hestia nominates Ella and Daphne to see what they can uncover about bonds. There's some reflexive groaning at the mention of Daphne (So kind, thank you so much), her skills are chronically undervalued by the group, and less polite discussion ensues. Not surprisingly, Daphne really wishes she were elsewhere for the duration of that, but her sister Tori squeezes her hand reassuringly for the length of it, and the other fifth years crowded with the Greengrasses on Daphne's bed budge up even closer. Daphne's thankful for it, their silent show of support, wrapping her arms about as many as she can reach. Ava Avery, still leaning against the bed on the floor in front of them, just shakes her head disparagingly.

The rest of the girls just aren't sure they shouldn't set Pansy onto the researching... They can't need to resort to Daphne, can they? (Seriously? Sitting right here, people...) Naturally, they should set Tracey on it, but the consensus is Pain Relief should be a higher priority. Truth be told, both Ella and Daphne are the most likely to quickly be able to arrange for passes to the Restricted Section amongst them, without first having to wait for an appropriate assignment as cover. As Hestia correctly observes, the teachers tend to like them.

It's decided.

"That leaves one more thing," Pansy sounds regretful, but it's too obvious an avenue of enquiry not to pursue. "Róisín, do you think you could ask your family about your aunt?"

"Merlin, Pansy, you don't know what you're asking."

"I think I do," she answers softly. Many of them lost family in the last war, and it was never an easy topic. Everyone goes very quiet.

"My father still locks himself in his study ever year on her birthday and the anniversary..."

"We need that information, though, and he's probably the best source," she answers gently, and no one else wants to interrupt. Most are just glad someone else was brave enough to tackle the topic. It's touchy and Róisín can be... tetchy on a good day.

"How about the Wilkeses?" Róisín suggests, a bit desperately, hoping, fervently, to avoid this conversation with her father. Her aunt is never spoken of. It's something of a miracle that she even knows he had a sister, or that her aunt's name was Rosemary, or the significance of those two days a year. That had been her Nan's doing, her mother's mum, and she's sadly now gone. There's no one but her father for her left to ask...

The girls leave the obvious objections to Wilkes to Pansy. She doesn't disappoint. "Wilfred is a fourth year. And a boy. He hardly has your skill set. You can't really expect him to do a better job of getting the information, can you?"

When it's put that way, Róisín would hate to admit in front of the entire female half of her House that the poxy fourth year is better equipped. She bites her lip a bit mulishly. "Well, you can't expect me to put that in an owl, now can you?"

Many heads turn back and forth, but no one speaks up. Honestly, that was precisely what a lot of them had been hoping for. Damn. Still, it's Róisín's family. She has to know how best to manage them. Grudgingly she offers, "I suppose I can arrange to meet him for the next Hogsmeade weekend."

That's two and a half weeks off. Well, damn. It probably can't be helped. There are plenty of disappointed sighs, but they haven't much choice here.

"That would be helpful," Pansy accepts her offer. "I'm sure it will make a difference."

Róisín doesn't look convinced, but she nods. "I'll owl him to set up the meeting. But not until next week. If it comes now, on the heels of the news... I may as well ask him directly per owl." Many perk up, still thinking that's exactly what she should do, damn it, but then her issue had been she didn't think it would be met with much success. "If I ask him to come, he'll be there," she addresses a few muttered complaints, bemoaning the risks of waiting, and soon that, too, is settled.

As the matter is deemed adequately dealt with, at least to the extent they currently can, the younger girls rise and begin to filter out of the room. They leave more quickly, eager to talk with less restraint amongst themselves. The older girls are slower to trickle out.

Tori gives Daphne a hug and a peck good night before leaving with the other fifth years. Hestia sends Flora ahead and then subtly grabs Val by the arm, delaying her departure. With a casual glance towards Millie, she catches the seventh year's eye and faintly nods towards the door. Once she's sure Millie has understood what she wants, she hooks her arm through Val's and steers her fellow Chaser to a spot a little further down the corridor between the dorms, towards the younger girls' rooms. As they've already withdrawn, they should be undisturbed here.

It's not long before Millie joins them. "What's up, Hestia?" They keep their voices low.

"It's only a matter of time before the others set their sights on Draco more concretely. And those boys comprise four sevenths of our team. If we don't win, we can't prove Draco was right to pick us, to put us on the team..."

"And we can't win with Chasers alone," Val tries to sway Millie. The sixth years on the team happen to be the three Chasers, the other four seventh year boys play all the other positions. As the younger girls see it, next year their Reserve Beater will be gone, graduated, she probably isn't necessarily as invested in validating this strategy as they are. But they don't know Millie well enough. She's very much a team player.

"We already didn't have practice today. What do you think the chances are of having it tomorrow, if we don't get some Pain Relief into those boys?" Hestia asks her very directly.

"Not very good," Millie readily admits. She can see Hestia trying to think how best to phrase this and saves the younger girl the bother. "What do you want me to do?" That wins her two broad smiles.

"Do you think you could... arrange something to get some of the Potion from Tracey tomorrow? Perhaps claim your monthlies were... Well, I'm sure you can think of something," she backtracks at Millie's raised brow. Millie is one of the ones that has the Head's single brow raise down pat. For the subject, it somehow seems even more disconcerting. "It's just, you're a Reserve player and it might be more obvious were either of us to ask."

"No, that's not a problem, I can ask. You're right, it will be less noticeable if it comes from me. I doubt she'll just so happen to give me four doses, though. She did explicitly bring up the issue of giving it to them after all."

"Which is why I think three doses makes perfect sense. It would carry you through a day," Val suggests. And then with a cautious look at Hestia goes on, "We were thinking we might skip Vince."

That gets them another raised brow. "He'll probably need it more than the others. Well, save Draco."

"Which means he'll play less effectively anyway. It's just Pain Relief, it's not a miracle. We were hoping you'd play for him instead."

"Val, I can't actively sabotage him! He helped get me on the team in the first place!"

"No, no of course not," Hestia hurries to mollify her. "That's not at all what we meant." Well, it was rather, but apparently it's too direct. Not an issue. She can regroup on the fly, and Val knows enough to leave her the space to do so. It's why Hestia had held back so far. "We were thinking more along the lines of not interfering with the other girls' plans as much in his case. We can't afford for it to become too blatant, and running interference for Draco is likely to risk exposing us enough. And we really need him, or who else would play Seeker?"

Before Millie can volunteer Harper (but honestly, he's just not as good in that position, and Aaron, who's the Reserve Chaser, naturally isn't as good as he is in turn), Hestia hurries on, "A sacrificial lamb would provide a distraction," Millie is about to speak up again, but Hestia knows how to reach her, and holds up a hand to silence her scruples, "and you have to ask yourself why he opened his Serpent in private."

It's an excellent question, and they stand there letting that sink in for a while. Of course, they have no idea he'd just been hoping the other boys wouldn't blame him for whatever it was he did. And there's no question that fewer witnesses increased the pain. As far as they're concerned, Vince must have very badly wanted to keep something from the rest of them. They can't help wondering what, or how much he knows or suspects...

"I won't sabotage him," she lays out her limits very clearly. Sometimes that helps. In this case, it allows the girls to better work with what she's willing to offer. As she feels that's probably in her interests as well... No, it's the best approach.

"Things will get bad for the boys in the coming weeks and we really need to win. We'd like you to think, seriously, about playing that position for the match, if need be. To begin preparing for it. We also need you to speak up about staying people's wands until after the match. It will be better coming from you, and Pansy listens to you. We need to get them to concentrate more on helping the Head and less on taking out half of our team shortly before we're supposed to play the damn Moggies."

"Merlin, Hestia, I don't know that I can. I mean, I can, but if you need to win that badly, believe me you want Vince to play."

"Don't sell yourself short, Millie. You're better than you think. With practice... And if we can win with you, it just goes further toward proving our point. It's all well and good to have you as a Reserve, but it's untried. Untested. We need you playing and we need to win."

Bugger. Er, that is to say, drat. Yes. That. "Ah. Well, good to know there's no pressure then." Millie's shoulders sag.

"We can help you, Millie. We will help you. What do you say we get in a little extra practice? Lunch, every day until the match." Because that's the problem, isn't it really, with being a Reserve player, that even during practice, there was never enough incentive to train her instead of the boys, the first string players. Had it been Alberta making the suggestion, not that she's of any use on the pitch, Millie might have taken it for a dig at her weight; from these two, she takes it as it's meant.

"But we won't sabotage him? We let the chips fall where they may? If he's fit to play, you'll be fine with that?" Hestia and Val share a look and then nod. Millie accepts it, and she isn't wrong. But the other girls are quite sure, without their protection, and they don't mean to give it, things won't look good for Vince. They might be more kindly disposed towards their teammate had he not tried to send poor Ella that Serpent last year. He had no way of knowing it would be a squib.

No, they're clear where they stand. Millie needs a hand to get up to speed, and Vince... Vince is beyond their help.

Much like the girls, the boys come away from their meeting with a feeling of mutual understanding, solidarity and purpose. In spite of all the topics they leave untouched, many frightening things were spoken of openly, and yet when it was done, they were all still there. That takes some of the fear out of things. It leaves them thinking maybe, just maybe they aren't as alone or as impotent in this as they often feel. That perhaps, when the time comes, they'll face the worst and come out on the other side. It gives them... hope.

Suitably wound up by their meeting and the things discussed, at random intervals the boys will wander back into the common room where they will find Vince has indeed settled in for the night, fast asleep and wheezing on one of the couches. He hadn't returned to his bed. The presence of Kneazle fur there made it a highly unwelcome prospect, and as Hermione could attest, it's more difficult than one might think to Banish all the feline's fine hairs. And Vince was in no shape to try.

That's unlikely to change for the better after a night kipping - unprotected - where almost anyone could stumble upon him.

From his House that is. How unfortunate for Vince that his Housemates currently aren't all that kindly disposed towards him.

Given the lack of coordination to their attacks, it should come as little surprise when no less than eight different Charms, Jinxes and Hexes are performed on Vince's sleeping form that night.

A couple of fifth years, eschewing pink, will Transfigure his hair a mouldy green (inspired, no doubt, by some of the looks Snotter had sported intermittently since the Dribbler interview), and a small contingent of the fourth years will render his nails permanently black until they grow out, collectively adding to the Inferi look Harper had been sure couldn't be topped. He'll happily revise his opinion tomorrow, however, in light of the new evidence to the contrary.

A Desiccation Charm of Aaron's will turn Vince's entire back to cracked leather, which still might not be too bad, were Sheldon not to decide it's safe to apply the fairy wings to the sleeping seventh year once his own disappear in the wee hours of the morning. They should be vanished in time for practice, after all. As Sheldon will hit Vince with more intent than he'd meant for Aaron, the Hex will be likely to last a good deal longer and the things will be monstrously large. (And Harper's suspicions that Daphne would love them will later be confirmed. She will practically coo at the sight.) It will be an excellent initial test of their pact, and not a soul will reveal who might have done any of this.

As the wings will naturally flap involuntarily, Vince might be prone to screaming at the pain induced by the reflexive movement of his leatherised skin, but an old family Hex of the Burkes that will be deftly applied by young Bartholomew (still steaming, albeit less literally, from the night before) will stitch the Beater's mouth ever so tightly shut. But Bart will feel sure that won't negatively impact the boy's ability to play Quidditch. No one catches a Bludger with their teeth. Well, not deliberately.

Bizarrely, some Spell no one's even heard of will make Vince's ears keep fluttering, annoyingly in arrhythmic counterpoint to his fairy wings. The assumption will be that it is an incorrectly applied Jinx from the third years, but the 'don't ask, don't grass' arrangement will leave things unclear as to what it had been meant to do. Instead the less than perfectly cromulent application of whichever Jinx it was will prove much more bothersome and far harder to lift than were they to have performed a known Spell, much to their general delight and retroactive satisfaction. Cursing might have taken place under the circumstances, but again, with his mouth sewn shut, Vince will be unable to do so.

The remaining fifth years will manage to brazenly embiggen his nose, a human Transfiguration of which they're inordinately proud and a direct result of their rigorous swotting for their O.W.L.s. It emerges as particularly unfortunate given the pain the appendage was already in. And of course it will be Harper's fairly esoteric Sticking Charm that will glue the boy so thoroughly to the couch, and unintentionally enable most of these Spells to be safely and effectively cast through the night. It will be so thorough, so robust, in fact, that there will be some talk of having to cut Vince free in the morning.

After his experience with his Housemates' Diffindos from the evening before, that will be greeted by undignified whimpering, but then Vince won't be capable of much else.

The only reason his condition won't be worse is because many of the people who apply the Spells in the dead of night will come in groups, the girls will be unaware he is sleeping, easily accessible, in the common room, and the younger students won't quite trust to their Stealth Charms. Were they to know Harper's Sticking Charm will be fixing him firmly in place, they might well go a little crazy. Fortunately for Vince, they do not.

A/N:

Twatwaffles served, presumably with syrup, by Carols_Sister. Thanks for that. ;-)