Chapter 3: New to Magic

"What are you waiting for? An invitation? Inside, now!" Snape snapped at the class of Gryffindors and Slytherins as they waited outside the dungeons. Obediently, the class filed in, Harry and Amelie partnering up instinctively, situating themselves at the back of the classroom. "Today, we will be brewing the cure for boils, the instructions are on the board. Begin!"

Harry blinked in surprise, though Rosier gave a light snort, nudging him on the side. "Snape's a right bastard, don't worry, just follow my lead."

Nodding, for Harry had little expertise in potions beyond reading the theory of the textbook, he carried the ingredients Amelie selected from the cupboard, setting them up. His eyes widened as she pulled out a leather sleeve, unfurling it to reveal roughly a dozen different pieces of equipment, each made of a different material. Selecting a coppery scalpel and a silver mallet, she handed him a set of snake fangs with the mallet.

"Smash these," she instructed. Harry frowned, about to point out that the instructions ordered them to crush them when she gave him a look. "Trust me?"

"Alright," he agreed, drawing a smile from her. Heeding her instructions, he hit the fangs repeatedly, causing small fragments to flake off the core. Surprised, he handed the fangs to her when they were done, to see that Amelie had already heated up a cauldron and skinned four horned slugs. Throwing them in, she cast several detection charms on the fire, which Harry observed closely.

As the solution reached a simmer, she turned to him with a smile. "There, it's going to be done in roughly half the time."

"Ho-"

"Tonight," she promised. He nodded in reluctant acceptance, just as Snape stalked by their potion, sneering slightly at the concoction before walking away. Strangely enough, Harry could hear no voices from the man, as though there was a slight bubble around him. Filing this information for later, Harry quietly observed the other groups, many of whom were still trying to crush the snake fangs in a pestle and mortar.

In roughly fifteen minutes, a faint pink mist began to emerge from the potions, at which point, Amelie gently lowered the four slugs into the cauldron, ending the fire and allowing the solution to cool slightly, before adding the pair of porcupine quills. After a few moments, the potion settled with a thick, viscous pink consistency, causing Amelie to smile in triumph, bottling up a sample and placing it at the front. Snape did not acknowledge her, staring impassively at the class, though she was hardly disheartened.

"Good job," he whispered to her, causing Amelie to beam. The two noticed the furious glances that Granger sent them, though neither paid much attention. Sensing the panic from a voice from a nearby student, he quickly stood on top of his stool, hissing for Amelie to do the same as he cast a shield around them.

Not a moment later, there was panic in the classroom as a cauldron exploded, sending jets of neon green solution around the class. Almost half the Gryffindors and several Slytherins were struck, boils appearing violently on the skin contacted as Snape rushed forward.

"Idiot boy, you didn't take the cauldron off the fire before adding the Porcupine Quills, did you?" he hissed as Longbottom whimpered in pain. Pointing to Finnegan, he hissed, "You, take him to the infirmary, and that'll be a zero for the class. Everyone else, back to work!"

Several of the Gryffindors looked mutinous, though none dared to outright object to Snape's instructions. He noticed Snape waving his wand at the several impacted Slytherins, eliminating the boils, though made no such effort for the Gryffindors.

"Thanks," Amelie whispered as the two sat down once again. Harry merely smiled.

--Break--

In regards to legilimency, once an individual has acclimated to hearing a large number of voices constantly, often the most dangerous stage given how many practitioners fall into insanity, it comes time to learn the art of active interference.

Broadly, such actions can be divided as either blunt or subtle and retrieval or damage. The former is self-explanatory, so let us focus on the latter. Information retrieval is the attempt to extract information from a target, ranging from their emotive state to particular scraps of information. The most common technique is thought guiding, where a slight injection of thought encourages a stream of consciousness to develop. The minimal amount of active interference means detection is far less likely; yet these attacks are usually effective only up to novice occlumens, for an advanced practitioner will easily recognise such an attempt. Damage is the more interesting and less explored aspects of legilimency, understandable given the retinue of alternatives magic provides. Yet where many legilimencers deride 'damage intent' legilimency as crude, such attacks, if executed correctly, can be extremely useful.

Concentrating inwardly, Harry slowly amplified the voices in his head, around the Great Hall, listening in to the various mental conversations. He felt the excitement of the Gryffindors about the upcoming Quidditch match, the grumblings about Slytherin likely going to commit fouls, and other idle topics. The Hufflepuffs had a disproportionate of homesick individuals, while Ravenclaws were already beginning to strain competing with each other over academics. Looking up to the staff table, he observed closely, feeling similar bubbles from Dumbledore, Snape and Quirrell. Flitwick's thoughts were dampened though not completely absent, while the rest of the professors seemed to lack any defences at all. Looking at Flitwick, he took a chance, pressing slightly against his mind. The professor gave no visible reaction, and Harry began the second phase, gently imparting thoughts about the first year charm class. He grinned as the professor's thoughts drifted in that exact direction, details of lesson plans, when suddenly he felt the professor's mind clamp down.

Quickly withdrawing and looking away before he was caught, Harry took several deep breaths, frowning as the cool metal surface of a spoon flicked against his nose.

"Boop," Amelie grinned at him, drawing a scowl. "Don't look at me like that, this is what you get for not paying attention."

"I'm sorry," he said with fake solemnity, "you're just really annoying to listen to, you know?"

Laughing boisterous as she gaped at him, his scowl returned as she kicked him under the table. "Prat!"

"Dolt!" he returned immediately, drawing a raised eyebrow from her. "What were you saying anyways?"

"I was saying that we have flying classes later. Unfortunately, they seem to be mandatory, so I suggest we go early so we get the functioning brooms," she answered amusedly. Giving a sigh, he nodded his acquiescence, setting down his cutlery. The two departed from the Great Hall, heading towards the grounds, where Madam Hooch was bringing out several dozen brooms. Turning, she greeted them with a smile.

"Ah, eager, are we? Pick your brooms, we'll begin in about half an hour," she advised. Harry scanned the ground, picking out a broom whose bristles were only slightly tasselled. He saw Amelie doing the same. Looking at the broom, he observed the faded golden lettering of 'Nimbus 1000'.

As the minutes passed, more students arrived at the pitch, picking up brooms as they waited for the session to start. Finally, Hooch blew her whistle, summoning them all around her. "Right, you will follow my instructions at all times unless you want to receive a flying ban. Now everyone, summon your broom to your hands. Say 'up' with confidence."

Harry did as instructed, raising an eyebrow as the broom shot up to his hand. Beside him, Amelie scowled as her broom rolled slightly on the ground. Looking around, he saw that a few students had managed to summon their brooms on their first try, though most hadn't. Weasley's had yanked up, smacking him in the face before falling back to the ground.

"How'd you do it?" Amelie queried. Harry contemplated for several moments before figuring out how to explain it.

"You need to assert your dominance over it. Much like an animal to be tamed, you must instruct with calm collectedness. Don't allow hesitation to colour your actions. Now try again," he encouraged. Amelie thrust her hand towards the broom, intoning 'up', and the broom shot up halfway before falling back to the ground. "That's good, you're making progress. Try again!"

As she tried for a third time, the broom snapped into her palm with a satisfying slap, causing her to grin. Looking around, it was roughly an even split between those who succeeded and failed. After several more minutes, Hooch just instructed those who failed to pick up their brooms, and began demonstrating how to mount the broom. Harry replicated Hooch's movements, frowning as he realised that it made him sit slightly awkwardly. Scooting slightly backwards, he gave a sigh of relief at the much better positioning.

Several minutes later, most of the class had flown into the air, hovering several metres above the ground. Harry and Amelie stayed close together at the edge, watching as their classmates began experimenting around. Neither felt much affinity or need to play with their broom.

"Gaaaaah!" Harry raised an eyebrow as Longbottom shot up into the air.

"Come down! Back down, Longbottom!" Hooch yelled. Harry rolled his eyes, for it was obvious the boy had lost control. Several moments later, the broom bucked, and Longbottom was dropped onto the ground, causing a sickening crunch. Hooch flew down, tutting. "Cracked legs, time for you to go to the infirmary. Everyone else, keep practising."

As she levitated away the sniffling boy, Malfoy and some of others began snickering. Harry saw the blonde boy pick up a strange glowing ball, and Weasley step forward, confronting Malfoy. The two raced into the air, until Weasley rammed into Malfoy, causing both to fall off their brooms and land on the ground with sickening crunches.

"Imbeciles," Amelie shook her head. "How is Malfoy in Slytherin?"

"He's more traitorous than Morded, more stupid than a troll and cowers behind his father's name at every opportunity. Where else would he go?"

"Fair point," she conceded wryly. "Crabbe and Goyle are probably here for the same reason…oh how our house has fallen. Worse than even the special needs house."

"That's rather mean," Harry chuckled. "The world needs more Hufflepuffs. We can't all be leaders after all."

"Fair," she shrugged. "Want to get out of here?"

"Sure, we might as well get some duelling practice. You promised to teach me a few tricks." The two quickly landed on the ground. As they walked off, Granger flew over them.

"Where are you two going? Class isn't over yet?"

"Considering the instructor decided to leave us unsupervised and within minutes two individuals were heavily injured…yeah, I'm good," Harry snorted, ignoring her gape as he led Amelie away.

"Ugh, bucktooth is so annoying," she sighed. Harry hummed in agreement as the two made it to their classroom. "Now, it's time for your tor-training to begin."

Harry narrowed his eyes as she smiled innocently.

"The first rule of duelling is to never get hit," she advised sternly. "No matter what magic your opponent is employing, if they can't land a hit, it doesn't mean much. Most wizards and witches have very limited stamina, anything beyond twenty spells will cause them to be exhausted. A trained duellist could employ roughly a hundred spells in quick succession before tiring. If you can outlast them, then you'll have won without firing a single spell."

Harry sensed her voices grow in excitement, and stepped to the side, narrowly avoiding a stinging spell. Amelie's eyes narrowed. "That was good…too good, in fact. Let's see if it's just beginner's luck."

Harry threw himself to the side as he felt Amelie's intention to cast several spells. Despite his movements being slower than her trained ones, the voices from her head gave him a decisive advantage. He dodged roughly thirty spells, Amelie casting with increasing speed and ruthlessness, before she managed to land a hit.

Braving the sensation, he continued moving. Unfortunately, the spell had struck his thigh, and made his movements more sluggish, leaving him unable to dodge a spell. Collapsing to the ground as several struck him on various parts of the body, he felt his sweat drip onto the cool stone floor.

"Not bad, good, in fact," Amelie mused as she walked over to him, a grin on her face.

"You're enjoying this far too much," he accused tiredly, to which she shrugged, grin still etched unrepentantly on her face.

"I'm a Rosier," she threw her hair back dramatically, "we were born to duel."

"Ugh," Harry heaved himself up shakily. "What now?"

"Now, you learn some useful spell. Let's start with a cutting curse, vicero. Just a slash for the wand movement," she instructed, slashing her wand at the wall and sending out a bolt of purple energy, smashing against the wall and leaving several light gashes. "It won't do much against even a decent protego, but it's a good beginner's spell."

"Okay," Harry took a deep breath, performing the motion, and incanting, "Vicero!"

Several sparks of purple came out from his wand, causing him to frown. Repeating the motion again, he slashed, with much the same effect.

"What are you thinking about?" Amelie queried. Harry raised an eyebrow, causing her to frown. "You mean to tell me…nevermind, you can't just think about the spell. You need some emotion behind it."

Harry took several moments, focusing on what he wanted the spell to do. Imagining the children at the orphanage, he slashed his wand, lashing out. His eyes widened as a huge arc of purple energy shot out, slamming against the wall and clawing out chunks of rock.

"W-w-what was that?" she choked out, staring at him with wide eyes. Harry blinked, unable to answer.

"I…don't know. I just…"

"That was amazing," she grinned. "Whatever thought you used just now, make sure to use it. If you can make your spells so powerful, not even seventh years will phase you. Now come on, let's keep practising. I'm not letting you stop until you get this down perfectly."

--Break--

Harry sat comfortably on a couch, Amelie perched on his lap as the two read through the second year charms textbook. Harry could sense her mind had drifted off slightly, her voices thinking about the upcoming Christmas break. Strangely, he could feel annoyance and doubt.

"Boop," he grinned, poking her nose. She rolled her eyes, leaning back onto him. "You're dozing off again."

"Was not," she huffed petulantly, shaking her head and smacking him in the face with her hair. He caught a whiff of the faint peach smell, a scent he rather liked. "Besides, it's not like you were paying much attention either."

"What can I say? You're very distracting," he whispered into her ear, allowing his breath to tickle her skin. He felt her pulse increase slightly. "Are you going to tell me what's on your mind?"

"It's…nothing," she sighed, wincing at his frown. Harry gently pressed into her mind, loosening the restraints on her voice. "I…it's just…"

"You can trust me, you know that, right?" he encouraged, gently soothing the spikes of doubt in her mind. He watched her face closely, seeing the reluctance slowly wash away.

"It's just…father's not going to be happy with me. I was supposed to befriend the children of the dark faction…and now I'm with you…and…the other Slytherins have no doubt talked to their parents…" she rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I…I don't look forward to that."

"Is th-"

"No," she interjected sharply, before deflating. "Sorry, but there's…there's nothing you can do. J-just don't make this worse than it has to be. Just let it drop."

"Alright," Harry agreed reluctantly. "But you know I'm here for you, right?"

She raised an eyebrow, to which he chuckled, knowing her question. "Even my utilitarianism has its limits."

--Break--

"Welcome to Charms," Professor Flitwick squeaked as he finished calling attendance. "This year, we're going to be focusing on getting you familiarised with magic. While I appreciate that some of you may have prior training, rest assured, there will be things you have not learnt, or worse learnt incorrectly. I expect your full attention at all times. Is that understood?"

"Yes professor," the class answered in unison, causing the half-goblin to smile.

"Good. Today, I'm going to introduce the levitation charm. The incantation is 'wingardium leviosa' while the wand movement is a swish and flick. Make sure to keep your movements nice and crisp, and the pronunciation needs to be on point," Flitwick instructed. Retrieving a box, he opened it, waving his wand and sending feathers flying out, twirling in the air before each landed gracefully in front of a student. "Now, repeat the movement and incantation a few times, then practice on the feather when you're ready."

Harry hummed thoughtfully, staring deeply at the feather as he willed the feather to rise. It shook slightly, but did not budge, causing Harry to frown. Concentrating on his intent to see the feather rise, he felt the strain on his magic coalescing around it. Still, it refused to budge more than slightly, and he felt himself beginning to strain.

Reigning in his magic, which had begun to charge the air around, Harry took several deep breaths, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Turning, he saw that Amelie was lazily swishing her wand, directing her feather to flutter around in small acrobatic motions.

Turning back to his wand, he narrowed his eyes, concentrating on the feather, willing his magic to grow denser around the feather, channelling his power into greater concentration. To Harry's delight, the feather began to rise slowly. Sweat formed on his forehead, yet the relish of such an accomplishment was far too intoxicating for him to stop. Only when he felt his body trembling, did Harry finally cease his magic, causing the feather to lazily drift back to the ground.

"You okay?" Amelie whispered to him, eyes filled with concern. Harry found himself moved, and smiled back.

"Perfectly fine, just…haven't been sleeping well." It was not a lie, for he had spent much of the night, meditating as he tried to reach his inner mindscape with little success.

"Is there anything…"

"Mostly worried for you actually." This definitely stretched the truth a bit, yet at her wince, he knew he had succeeded in dissading her from pushing further. He took no pleasure in the guilt written on her face, yet he did not enter her mind to allay such feelings either. "I…you're my friend, Amelie, and I just feel so…useless."

"You being here is more than enough," she whispered softly, taking his hand and squeezing lightly. The two smiled at each other, though the moment was ruined by Flitwick coughing lightly in front of them.

"Mister Potter, miss Rosier, is there a reason you're not practising?"

"We've already familiarised ourselves with the spell," Harry answered smoothly. Flitwick rose an eyebrow, gesturing for them to demonstrate. Harry swished his wand, and Flitwick had a reprimand on his lips, when the feather began to rise into the air. Turning with a smile, he frowned at the incredulous look the professor shot him.

"Silent casting…by Merlin that isn't taught till NEWTS," the professor muttered to himself. "Even more talented than your mother."

"Thank you, sir," Harry forced a smile at this, though he could tell that Amelie wasn't the least bit fooled like the professor. The professor nodded kindly, before turning to Amelie.

"Miss Rosier?" Amelie waved her wand, muttering the incantation and causing the feather to levitate in the air. The professor nodded approvingly. "Well, just keep practising, try and control the path the feather flies in, the spell is a great way to train control."

As the professor walked away, Amelie turned to him. "How can you cast wordlessly?"

"I never really understood the point of incantations. More than anything, they seem to be a tool of focus rather than one of any inherent properties. If you are able to visualise the effects and concentrate your magic sufficiently…the words lose their purpose."

"So…the incantations are useless?"

"Not useless per say, but a crutch. When we are young, we count with our fingers, yet as we progress, we can overcome such a need," Harry reasoned. "Think about it, as children we manage incredible feats of supposedly accidental magic, when we do not know the supposed limits and conventions. How is it that gaining additional knowledge and our cores increasing in potency somehow inhibits our casting?"

"I…suppose I never thought about it that way," Amelie shrugged ruefully. "It's just so…expected."

"And that's why sometimes, I think muggleborns are rather good for society. They are willing to challenge, to offer a new perspective, however much wrong at times," Harry mused. "I am not dismissing how abrasive many are to magical culture and heritage, but neither am I willing to ignore how complacent and stagnant magical kind has become."

"That's fair I suppose, but what does this have to do with…" Harry merely smiled as the gears turned in her head. She glared accusingly at him, "You're trying to manipulate me, aren't you?"

"Aren't we all? You put on makeup to appear more attractive, to lower the guard of your male counterparts. We agree or disagree with others not based on the merits of argument, but rather on whether we wish to elevate them and cultivate a relationship. Males preen with outlandish shows of courtship while females act coy and disinterested. As children, you compete in obedience and competence for the approval of your parents' attention and approval. We're all trying to manipulate the world to our own liking."

"You have an answer to everything, it seems," Amelie shook her head in exasperation. "Can you at least pretend to be ignorant for once."

"And insult your intelligence in the process? I think not?" Harry shook his head with mock outrage. She rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged on her lips.

--Break--

Occlumency is the art of protecting one's mind. There are many different approaches to such a defence. Some favour a solid defence, others subterfuge or defence in depth approaches. To my knowledge, no single approach is completely superior, each with its advantages and disadvantages. Most will simply pick based on their strengths, for the mastery of one type of defence can take a lifetime, let alone trying to gain proficiency in multiple.

The organisation of the mind is key. All successful occlumens have mastered awareness of their inner mindscape, morphing it to their needs. An enemy legilimencer will seek out any weakness to exploit, meaning that any defence is only as strong as its weakened link. Exploring every bit of a defence and strengthening it is vital for progress. Equally, a well organised mind provides a good foundation for enhancement and augmentation in the future.

Paradoxically, organising one's mind, despite being a crucial step, often leaves one more vulnerable, for the structuredness of one's mindscape allows legilimencers to rife through and acquire targets with greater ease.

Harry meditated quietly, delving deep into his inner consciousness. He could feel tendrils of memories swirling around him, from the moment when Lily had been killed by Voldemort's Avada Kedavra to the beatings of the orphanage children. Reaching out, he frowned as the memories swirled away from his grasp, and redoubled his efforts, to little success.

'This is my mind,' he asserted, concentrating and willing the memories towards him. Moments later, he smirked in triumph as the mist began to solidify, forming small, glowing orbs. Considering for a moment, he imagined a small shelf forming, causing several wooden cabinets to spring into existence. Closing his eyes, he willed the memories to sort themselves, smiling as he felt their energies swirl around him, whizzing by in motion. A slight migraine began to develop, his control beginning to crack as more and more memories swirled around him in a vortex.

Harry began to feel nervous, trying to release his hold, yet his mindscape had seemingly grown a mind of its own, memories flying by and new shelves rising from the void even as the boundaries of reality began to shatter, cracks forming as the headache grew more intense.

"Harry!" Taking deep breaths, he looked around in confusion, wincing at the throbbing pain in his head. "Harry! Are you alright?"

"A-Am-Amelie?" he choked out at the sight of his friend's familiar face. "Ugh…that hurt."

"What in Merlin happened to you?" she demanded, the loud voice causing Harry to wince. "Do you need to see Pomfrey?"

"No," he choked out, before forcing himself up. Unfortunately, his mind began to swirl, the world spinning in strange ways, and he soon found himself on the ground, reaching out, he frowned as his hand was met with soft flesh. Squeezing, he felt a jolt of embarrassment and pleasure coarse through his mind, and repeated the motion again dazedly.

"Harry! S-s-" Blinking, he stilled at the realisation he had inadvertently grasped the breast of his friend, who had fallen on top of him. A moment later, he deduced that the pleasure he felt must have been what she had been feeling.

"Merlin, Amelie I'm so so-"

"It's fine," she squeaked, their faces matching shades of red. "I…can you get off me?"

"Aren't you on top?" Harry frowned, drawing a concerned look.

"Harry…how hard did you hit your head?" Blinking, Harry shook himself, ignoring the throbbing pain as he did so, looking around to see that indeed, he was in fact the one on top. Quickly getting up, he hoisted Amelie as well.

"Sorry…I…that was odd," Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I'll be fine."

She rolled her eyes, dragging him with her. "You will be after you get some sleep. Come on."

--Break--

"Welcome to the first Quidditch game of the season! Today, we have the noble Gryffindors facing off against the cheating Slytherin-"

"JORDAN!" McGonagall yelled.

"Sorry professor," Jordan spoke, not sounding the least bit genuine, "as I was saying, our Gryffs are going to face down the Snakes. The snitch is released, and they're off! Johnson has the quaffle, dodges Montague, passes to Spinnet, back to Johnson…and she scores! Ten-nil to Gryffindor!"

Johnson blew a kiss to the Gryffindor stands, who roared in celebration while the Slytherins hissed. Amelie elbowed him on the ribs, an annoyed look on her face. "Remind me how you made me come here again?"

"You've got to experience it at least once. Besides, it's useful to know who's on the team, given their importance in the student hierarchy," Harry shrugged, a smile tugging on her lips.

"Bastard," she muttered under her breath, though not quiet enough for him to fail to hear.

"What was that?" he asked cheerfully, causing Amelie to roll her eyes.

"Nothing," she smiled sweetly. "Just thinking about our duelling drills for tonight."

"And Johnson scores again, forty-ten to Gryffindor!" Jordan called. Harry rolled his eyes as the Slytherins in the stand hissed and jeered. "Oh, and it looks like the snitch has been spotted! Both seekers are going after it…Travers…by Merlin, Higgs pulls up…ouch, that's a nasty Worsky Feint…and Travers is out of it. This is going to be a race to see if our chasers can garner a 160 point lead. Come on girls!"

Harry raised his eyebrow in mild interest as Pomfrey levitated an unconscious Travers from the pitch, his body contorted in unnatural angles. Turning back to the game, it seemed that Higgs was now fully concentrated on finding the snitch, while the Gryffindor chasers were relentless in their assault.

Harry's eyes widened as he saw Flint ram into Bell, knocking her precariously off her broom and leaving her dangling. The other two chasers quickly abandoned their attack run to save their teammate.

"Far too sentimental," Amelie snorted. Harry shook his head.

"No, it's tactical. There's no way they can score points effectively two on three. Abandoning a point makes perfect sense. Their beaters, on the other hand, should honestly focus on Higgs. If they can knock him out, it's a surefire win for Gryffindor; even delaying them would be sufficient in my mind."

"Huh," she looked at him contemplatively, "I didn't expect that from you."

"Fair," Harry chuckled, "I find that it's useful to know a bit of everything. It ensures you are not caught out in conversation, and forms a useful foundation for building both relationships and further knowledge as needed. What seems useless now may prove vital tomorrow, after all."

"Hmmm," Amelie hummed thoughtfully as Gryffindor scored their awarded penalty. "Who do you think will win?"

"Slytherin most likely. The Gryffindors lack the skill advantage to deal with outright attacks," Harry reasoned, frowning as Flint rammed into Bell again, who narrowly avoided careening into a stand. "They're targeting Bell, she's obviously the weakest of tbe trio. It's a good move."

"I rather think Gryffindor will win," Amelie chuckled. "Our brutes have no skill in their attacks, look, in the time they

'be been tagging Bell they've scores thrice."

"Foul!" Jordan called as Boyle finally gave up any pretence and swung at Spinnet with a beater's bat, knocking her off her broom and causing her to fall to the ground. Hooch blew her whistle, signalling three penalties, but it was too late. Higgs pulled into a dive, hand outstretched, before raising a ball of glinting gold, causing wild cheers to erupt from the Slytherin stand. Harry thought the victory as rather hollow, though clapped along for the sake of appearances.

"Let's go quickly before a fight breaks out," Amelie whispered, to which Harry nodded his agreement. Already, the Gryffindors streaming down their stands seemed in a riotous mood, heading towards the Slytherin stands rather than the path back to the castle.

As the first Slytherins emerged from the stands, shouting was quickly followed by spellfire.

"Let's get out of here," Harry urged, grabbing her hand and rushing the opposite direction. A red spell whizzed overhead as Slytherins around them surged forward to join the brawl. Making it to the Ravenclaw stands, the duo ignored the wary glances, huddling amongst the crowd as they watched the professors try to end the all out fight.

"What are you two doing here?" Leanne stepped forward, wand pointed at them. Harry couldn't help the resentment bubbling at her accusation.

"Avoiding the fighting like a sane person," he answered coolly. Several of the Ravenclaws muttered amongst themselves.

"Fine, but don't try anything," she warned, lowering but not sheathing her wand. Harry and Amelie followed the Ravenclaw students inside to the castle, at which point the duo quickly left, heading off to their classroom.

--Break--

"Psst," Amelie whispered, drawing Harry's attention. He turned to her a curious look at the grin splitting her face. "Don't drink the pumpkin juice."

"I never drink the juice," Harry frowned. "What have you done?"

"Me? Absolutely nothing," she chuckled as the bulk of the Slytherins arrived at the Great Hall, sitting down for lunch. As the feast progressed, Harry frowned as he felt them have increasing voices of discomfort. Hearing a few mutters about stomachs and bowels, he deduced what she had done quickly enough."

"How?" he demanded. Amelie merely grinned smugly.

"Can the wise one not figure out my humble trick?" she teased, yelping as he kicked her under the table. "You're no fun."

"Crap!" one of the students nearby yelled, almost instantly starting a chain reaction. Loud, gaseous exhausts filled the room, swelling the air with a nauseous measma as students rushed out towards the toilets, trails of brown dripping behind them. The staff were not immune, with Sinastra and Babbling gripping their rears as they hurried out the side door. The remaining staff, presumably not having drunken the juice, waved their wands in an attempt to clear the air, though most were coughing. Even Dumbledore's eyes had clouded over slightly, and he quickly cast a bubble over his head. Harry and Amelie quickly departed the hall, with Amelie leading him by the hand.

"I'll show you if you ask nicely," she teased. Harry gave a harrumph, jabbing her on the ribs.

"Show me please?" he smiled sweetly as she rubbed her side.

"Dolt," she shook her head, a pout on her lips. "See if I warn you next time."

They stopped in front of a large portrait of a fruit bowl. Harry raised an unimpressed eyebrow as she reached out, tickling the pear. To his mild surprise, the green fruit giggled, before the painting swung open to reveal a short corridor. Following her with some reluctance, they emerged into a large kitchen area with multiple stoves and hundreds of house elves scampering around. Harry blinked, gaping at the sight for several moments. He regained his composure as Amelie broke out into giggles at his expression, scowling.

"Missus and mister! How can we be helping?" one of the elves squeaked, and soon they were surrounded by a retinue of house elves. Harry blinked in surprise as two grabbed onto his legs. He turned to Amelie with a pleading expression, contorting into a betrayed one as she was too busy laughing at the sight.

"Um…can you help clean a room?"

"A room not be clean?" one of the elves gasped. Several others broke down into tears, causing Harry to wince.

"Um…yeah, in the dungeons. Past the Slytherin common rooms, two lefts and a right, third door from the back. If you could set that up, that would be good," Harry muttered. The elves immediately bobbed their heads up and down, floppy ears flapping in the process. "And if I need some help in the future, how can I call you."

"You can be calling Blinky!" one of the elves enthusiastically promised.

"Um, thanks." The elf looked like he would die of bliss, something Harry found rather concerning. "Can I get a picnic basket as well?"

Moments later, a basket was shoved into his hand as the elves stared at him with wide eyes, as though pleading for more to do. "That's…all for now, thanks all."

The elves looked disappointed, but soon dispersed. Amelie had finally finished laughing her ass off, and reappeared by her side, an amused grin on her face. "Well?"

"I think one of them was humping my leg," Harry shuddered, shaking his head in exasperation. "If it weren't for the chills in my spine, I'd kick your ass."

"In your dreams, Potter," Amelie laughed merrily, tossing her hair back. "You've yet to best me in a duel even after everything!"