Rex Imperator

"Spew?" Oleandra asked suspiciously, inspecting the badge closely. "Why would I ever want to buy a badge that reads spew, of all things?"

Hermione had summoned her courage and had gone up to the Slytherin table to try and peddle her badges the morning after that very special Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Had it been any other Slytherin student, she wouldn't even have tried, but she felt somewhat confident that the Greengrass twins would feel receptive to her attempts.

"No, not spew," said Hermione impatiently. "Why does everyone keep saying that? S.P.E.W.!" she said, saying each letter individually. "It stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"You didn't try to scam our little sister with these," said Oleandra, flipping the badge like a coin. "Did you?"

"As a matter of fact," Hermione said haughtily, "I did. But it's not a scam, it's a real cause! For too long, House-Elves have been enslaved and abused at the hands of cruel Wizards! I say: enough is enough!"

"I've never heard of S.P.E.W.," said Daphne doubtfully.

"That's normal," said Hermione. "I founded the organization myself yesterday."

"Oh really?" said Oleandra. "How many members do you have?"

"Let's see…" said Hermione, doing some quick mental calculations. "So far, there's me, Astoria, Harry, Ron and Neville. Oh, and also Hannah Abott, from Hufflepuff. That makes eight, if you two join. Only two Sickles for a badge, and you're in! Oh, and all proceeds go to the foundation, of course."

"You do realize that our family owns a House-Elf, yes?" said Daphne tentatively.

"I… imagined that would be the case," said Hermione vaguely. "Actually, I was hoping you would have one! You could be the first to free your House-Elf; you could set an example for the other old families!"

"Er—" Oleandra began. "I don't think Mother would let us. In any case, I'm not especially fond of Elves in general, not after— well, you know."

Oleandra was referring to her run-in with the Dusk-Elves, as well as the incident at the World Cup Finals with Winky. And in the end, Daphne and Oleandra each purchased a badge, just to get Hermione away from their table before Draco and Pansy Parkinson showed up for breakfast.

"You know, Sister," Oleandra said once Hermione had returned to the Gryffindor's table, "you should make your own organization. Remember how you had us all rescue those Mandrakes, two years ago?"

Back then, Daphne hadn't taken the Bloodline Atavism Potion yet, so she'd still been fully human. She'd been searching for a way to maintain her superiority complex over her twin; talking to plants had been… well, an attempt to maintain her dignity as the older sister. Unfortunately, it would turn out that the Mandrakes would prove invaluable to save the Basilisk's petrified victims later that year, creating a heap of unnecessary problems.

"For your information," said Daphne sulkily, "I was right; they are sentient. You just can't understand what they're saying, since you're so painfully limited."

"You could call it S.P.A.M.," Oleandra continued. "The Society for the Protection of Aromatic Mandrakes."

"Oh, shut up," snapped Daphne.

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The following week, Defence Against the Dark Arts resumed, and to Oleandra's surprise, she learned that Professor Moody wanted to use the Imperius Curse on the class… Supposedly to train the students to resist the curse. However, hadn't he said that the use of any of the three Unforgivable Curses was an automatic one-way trip to Azkaban?

When Hermione brought up this fact, Professor Moody simply brushed her concerns away.

"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like," said Professor Moody. "If you'd rather learn first-hand against a Dark Wizard— be my guest. Door's open. Off you go, now."

Hermione's face turned bubblegum pink in embarrassment, but she stayed right where she was.

"Are Aurors authorized to use the three Unforgivable Curses, sir?" Daphne asked.

"Right you are," answered Professor Moody with a raspy chuckle. "During the First Wizarding War, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the time, Bartemius Crouch," (there was a slight hint of disgust in his voice when he said the name), "gave his Aurors the licence to use the Unforgivable Curses as they saw fit in the course of their duties… But the Ministry never took back those rights."

Oleandra gulped; if she hadn't been careful last year when freeing Lupin, she might have died to a stray Killing Curse! Good thing Aurors likely wouldn't use those spells in a school, especially during peace time.

Professor Moody then had everyone who remained come to him in turn, and he would put the Imperius Curse upon them. He never made the students do anything degrading, only silly things, like making them hop around the classroom while singing the national anthem, do gymnastics, or imitate an animal. None of them seemed able to fight off the curse, to Professor Moody's great disappointment. And finally, it was Oleandra's turn.

"Greengrass, the tall one," Professor Moody growled. "Your turn."

Oleandra ignored her sister's offended look and walked up to the centre of the class, facing Professor Moody. The desks had all been cleared off to the sides of the room, leaving an open space.

"Imperio," he said, pointing his wand at Oleandra.

For a moment, Oleandra felt slightly light-headed, but that only lasted for an instant, as a rune, ᛗ, began shining brightly in her mind. The Cosmic Egg of Mannaz, the rune of Humans, gently enveloped Oleandra's soul, repelling the encroaching magic from her mind.

"INCARCEROUS!" roared Professor Moody.

A bundle of ropes sprang forth from his wand and wrapped themselves tightly around Oleandra. What was it with this guy and the random surprise attacks? He kept repeating constant vigilance, but how was she supposed to guess he'd attack her physically while he was supposed to be attacking her mentally? 

"You've revealed yourself, imposter!" growled Professor Moody. "No child could have possibly mastered Occlumency to the extent of shutting me out completely!"

Oleandra almost wanted to cry; did it really take this much to set off Mad-Eye's radar?

"Lower your mental defences and submit to a mental scan," Mad-Eye continued, "or I will take the necessary measures to ensure the safety of the other students. Now, let's see who you really are under that disguise…"

Oleandra wasn't about to let anyone into her mind; in fact, she wasn't really sure if she could lower her runic soul defences. Well, fine then; if the old man wanted a fight, then he'd get one! Oleandra was itching to get back at him for breaking a few of her ribs and for the embarrassing episode resulting in Draco visiting the inside of her clothes, at any rate.

Cloak's shadowy edges turned into short, serrated blades, which sliced through the conjured ropes like a chainsaw and freed her from her bindings.

"My name is Oleandra Greengrass," she said provocatively, beckoning him with her forefinger. "The one and only; now, come at me if you want another beating— You. Senile. Old. Fool!"