05/05/05 Challenge Options

[McGonagall's Cat]

Please note: The way the Board is set up, it appears that I, alone, am the one responsible for this challenge, however at least 90% of the blame - er - credit
for this bit of fun should be placed upon the valiant shoulders of Zymurgy.

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Today, if you have not yet noticed, is a day very dear to our hearts.

05/05/05

As Harry Potter fanatics, we realize at once that this is the number of currently available books.
In fact, we have been cursing this number for quite some time now, wishing it would raise itself to a more acceptable level. (come on HBP ) ~

You are, therefore, challenged to a festival of five-ness!

And also, a celebration of those who do not quite make five on the Most Popular Character Scale.
Those characters we forget about.
Those relagated to the periphery of our Potter consciousness.

Take a moment, to take Five of these Forgotten Few, and fwoosh them into Ferret Fandom!


In under 5555 words,
describe how your five, either separately or as a group,
influence the world of Hogwarts more than their diminuitive status would suggest.


These poor neglected foundlings tend to appear in one scene, perhaps five,
and then they are lost to the pages! Bring them together by choosing one from each book and using these five special characters in your story.


Your submission may be strictly cannon, or a parody
...but you must be done and posted within five days, by the Ninth of May- in other words, one less than twice five.


You must use at least five, (but please, feel free to use more, or Merlin forbid, all) of the words in the following list:

quinquefoliate - Having five leaves or leaflets
quintessence - the fifth and highest element after air and earth and fire and water; was believed to be the substance composing all heavenly bodies
quintessence - the purest and most concentrated essence of something
quintessential - the most typical example or representative of a type
quincentennial - 500th aniversary
pentamerous - devided into five parts
pentameter - A line of verse consisting of five metrical feet.
Quintuplet - 5 children born to the same mother at the same time
Quint - One of a set of quintuplets Also a Quin
Quintet - group of 5 musicians, pieces writ therefor
quintillion - 10^18 (5 groups of 3 zeros after 1000)
Quintation - fifth operation in sequence, addition, multiplication, etc.
Quintilis - the fifth month of the early Roman calendar
pentathlon - an athletic contest, in which each participant competes in five track and field events,
pentatonic - a scale that has 5 notes.
pentomino - a figure made out of 5 squares.
pentagram - a star with 5 points.
pentagon - 5 sided
five
five o'clock shadow
five-star
high-five
Gimme five!
take five
nine to five
five o'clock world
put two and two together and make five
fifth
fifth column
fifth wheel
Cinco de Mayo
demi-deca - half ten = five
fivefold
five-finger
pentad - 5yrs
pentahedron - five-sided solid
pentarchy - a government in the hands of 5 people
pentastich - a composition of 5 verses
quincunx - 5 objects in a square (one in middle, other four at each corner)quincunx -an astrological aspect of 150 degrees separation
quintan - recurring every 5 days, or every fifth day


5 in various root languages:
Anglo Sax.= fif
Gothic=fimf
Icelandic=fimm
Swedish & Danish=fem
utch=viff
German=funf
Lithuanian=penki
Welsh=pump
Gealic= coig
Latin=quinque
Greek=pempe/pente
Sanskrit=panchan

[zymurgy]

The Leaky Cauldron and the Importance of Privacy Charms.

The Leaky Cauldron was having a particularly good day, which wasn’t saying much of anything, as it was a five-star pub, and rarely had bad days. All the regulars were there, including Doris Crockford, who hadn’t missed her daily Pint of Butterbeer for twenty odd years.

Doris was currently slurping her second pint, looking about for somebody who was not a regular, so that she could tell one of her several very good stories. For instance, the one time that she had actually given the boy who lived a high five.

Actually, she had merely shaken his hand, but it’s a given that every story told in a Pub ought to be divided by five to get it’s proper proportions.

Finally, she saw an unfamiliar Witch sitting at one of the side tables, and was about to sidle over and chat, when she saw Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore floating his ghostly self straight through the door into the pub, and got a bit distracted.

“Gimmy five, Sir Patric!” she said, raising her hand. “Haven’t seen you since I was at Hogwarts! What’s the occasion!”

Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore tossed his head onto the bar, and hovered over one of the bar stools. “My Quincentennial Deathday,” he said solemnly.

“Shouldn’t you be celebrating with your mates?” asked Doris. “You are, after all, the quintessential beheaded ghost.”

Sir Patrick’s head shook itself on the bar, while the rest of him shrugged. “You see, my celebration has always been pentamerous. I have always spent a fifth of my deathday celebrating in a pub with the living.”

Doris nodded. “I see. Have a butterbeer on me? For your birthday?”

Sir Patricks head sniffed, and his hand brought out a ghostly handkerchief to tap lightly at it’s nose with. “It isn’t the quintessence of distilled liquors,” he said, “but it will have to do, particularly as I can’t drink it anyway.”

It was at this point that Mr. Chambers enter the pub, and sat himself down on Doris’ other side. He looked quite depressed, his shoulders slumped, his clothing rumpled, and a five o’clock shadow marring his good looks.

“What’re you so blue about?” asked Dorris.

“The cause of my grief is five fold,” sighed Mr. Chambers. “To begin with, my foolish parents never saw fit to give me a first name. Secondly, I’ve been badly beaten in Quidditch by that demi-deca Weasley, Ronald, who blocked what would have been a simply brilliant score.”

“But,” protested Dorris, “Ronald isn’t the fifth Weasley.”

Mr. Chambers counted quickly on his fingers. “That’s right. I’d forgotten Percy. He’s such a fifth wheel, you know.”

“Just be thankful the Wealseyes never had quintuplets,” remarked Podmore. “After all, if telling one twin apart from the other is hard, think of the difficulty posed by telling one quint from the other four…”

“At any rate,” continued Mr. Chambers, “the third cause of my grief is the loss of my girlfriend, their sister. Far too loyal to her family that girl is.”

“How old is that one?” asked Podmore.

“Oh, she’ll be celebrating her Cinco de Mayo soon,” said Dorris.

“Don’t put two and two together and make five,” admonished Vector, entering the room, and swinging herself up to sit cross-legged on the bar. “The Cinco de Mayo isn’t a Quinceanera. They don’t even sound alike. One’s a celebration of the fifteenth birthday, and one commemorates the defeat of the French army by the Mexicans at the Battle of the Puebla in 1862.”

“Yes, yes, I see,” said Doris, who obviously hadn’t listened. “What are the other two causes of your grief, Mr. Chambers?”

Mr. Chambers blushed, and refused to say anything.

“Come, come, boy,” snapped Podmore, “don’t make us guess. There could be a quintillion reasons for you to be unhappy.”

Vector got out some chalk and sketched a pentomino on the bar, nearly dislodging Podmore’s head with her elbow.

“Watch what you’re doing, woman,” snapped the ghost, grabbing his head and setting it back onto his neck, “or I’ll haunt you for a pentad!”

“Surely not,” demurred the Professor. “Haunting is only permitted nine to five, a law made so long ago that they still listed the date as occurring the fifth day of Quintilis.”

“We live in a five o’clock world,” sighed Doris. “Everything regulated just so… but come, boy, the cause of your grief. We’re waiting.”

“Well, there’s the quintan visitation of my great aunt, who always goes on and on about how I ought to quit Quiditch and only compete in pentathlons,” said Mr. Chambers. “Not to mention the fact that I’ve got to finish my Arithmancy Homework, and I simply haven’t been able to find a reference.”

“It’s extremely easy to do a quintation,” smirked Professor Vector, adding a pentagon, and a five pentagrams in a quincunx. “I explained ages ago.”

“But at the time,” wailed Mr. Chambers, “I was doing Herbology homework, sketching quinquefoliates. I couldn’t pay attention to both…”

“You should order your time better,” said Doris mildly. “Have another butterbeer, on me.”

Just then Owen Cauldwell entered the bar. “Chambers!” he shouted. “You promised to help me with my Astronomy homework! I’ve got no idea how to calculate a quincunx!”

“I remember the days,” droned Podmore, “when the land of the dead was a pentarchy. None of this allowing people like Sir. Nicholas to spout their pentastich of iambic pentameter about how they died at Ghost Councils…the law was the law.”

“That’s not the problem we need to do, Cauldwell,” returned Chambers. “We’ve simply got to write down the composition of the quintessence, and how it differs from the elements making up the earth.”

Vector smirked, and added a pentagon to her sketch. “You know, Professor Sinistra leaves the answers in the library. Near the fifth column from the left.”

“She does?” Cauldwell practically bleated. “You mean the one with the pentahedron?”

Vector nodded. “And Snape’s lesson plans are in the staff room, under the tea things.”

“How do we know you aren’t going to betray us?” asked Chambers suspiciously. “Why do you tell us this?”

“Because they’ve both betrayed me,” answered Vector viciously. “This is revenge! They stole my tickets to the quintet! And they were going to play such lovely pentatonic sonatas…”

“Beg pardon,” said Podmore, “but I must depart now, for Hogwarts. With my luck the Fat Friar will ruin my party going on about the five-finger plants he’s helping Sprout cultivate…oh dear, and Edgar Clogg will go on and on about that match he won in ‘55…”

With an ethereal moan, Podmore drifted out of the pub, leaving the others.

“What are you two doing so far away from Hogwarts, anyhow?” asked Vector.

The boys exchanged glances.

“Well, you see,” began Chambers, “after I lost that goal…”

“The fifth one in the game,” supplied Owen, unasked. “Or fif, in Anglo Saxon.”

“I ran to the room of requirement,” continued Chambers.

“Which was on the floor five this time,” interrupted Owen. “Or fimf in Gothic.”

“And I ran into some students,” continued Chambers.

“Far more than five of them,” interrupted Owen. “Or fimm in Icelandic.”

“They were all gathered about Potter, he was teaching them defensive spells,” continued Chambers. “I realized that their club wasn’t on the list.”

“There are only five clubs on the list,” said Owen sadly. “Or fem in Swedish and Danish. The High Inquisitor made us get rid of our Study Group.”

“So I wasn’t sure what to do, you see, rat on them or try to join,” fretted Chambers. “They were calling themselves the D.A.”

“D would be the fifth letter,” said Owen mournfully. “If it came after e, which is number five, or viff in Dutch.”

“What’s DA stand for?” asked Vector. “Defense Association? Dueling Alliance? Dangerous Anti-Group? Dolores’ Animosity? Detention Alliance?”

“Those guesses were all wrong,” Owen pointed out. “Even though you made five, or funf in German.”

“It stands for Dumbledore’s Army,” explained Chambers. “I don’t know what to do professor! I don’t know whether they band together for good or for ill? Should I report them to Dumbledore? Or does he know? Are they out to destroy the ministry? Or You-Know-Who?”

“Would there were only five possibilities, or penki in Lithuanian,” sighed Owen. “But we simply have no idea.”

“Keep your mouth shut,” advised Vector. “You are not a Prefect. It is not your responsibility to keep tabs on your fellow students. If the High Inquisitor makes such rules, she must see to enforcing them herself. It isn’t your business.”

“And she’s made so many more than just five, or pump in Welsh,” said Owen. “Would she were gone.”

“I can understand why you are just a minor character, Cauldwell,” snapped Chambers. “You’re bloody annoying.”

“I’ve been told so five times, today alone,” Owen pointed out, “or coig in Gaelic.”

None of them noticed the toad-like witch skulking in the shadows, although she had been there for more than five (quinque in Latin) minutes.

“I wonder what Dumbledore was thinking when he hired that woman,” mused Vector. “I wish Lupin had lasted more than a year.”

“I wish he’d lasted more than five years,” said Owen. “Or pempe or even pente in Greek.”

“Dumbledore’s Army,” muttered the toad-like witch, sneaking from the bar. “We’ll see about that!”

“Well then!” shouted Zymurgy, arriving on the scene. “Thank you so much for being in this scene. You’ve done great work, all round. Take five.”

“Or panchan in Sanskrit!” shouted Owen.

[AnimeEyeshime]

Ravenclaws and Gryffindors and a Slytherin, oh my!

“Maaaaandiiiiiii…” Mandy rolled her eyes but didn’t bother to look up from her book. If Padma really needed her, the girl would come over and get her. In the meantime, Mandy could attempt to finish the page she’d been trying to read for over an hour. It didn’t help that the common room was noisier than ever. It topped the time the second years had nearly set the common room on fire and sent everyone piling out into the corridors, screaming at the top of their lungs. Filch had been so mad at them…

Her book suddenly disappeared, and Mandy found herself staring at Padma’s looming face. “Ever heard of a concept called ‘personal space,’ dearheart?” Mandy asked with a sigh. Padma shook her head, a wide grin spread over her face.

“’Course not. Care to define it?”

“It’s staying at least five feet away from me at all times,” Mandy replied, pushing Padma out of her face so she could stand up. She instantly regretted her decision, as her legs felt like they were on fire. I really lost track of the time, didn’t I? she thought, resisting the urge to stamp her feet repeatedly to get rid of the pins-and-needles feeling. “So what were you whining about?”

“I wasn’t whining.” Padma avoided eye contact and Mandy groaned. It had something to do with her boyfriend, didn’t it? Mandy never quite understood how she and Padma had ended up best friends, since they were pretty much complete opposites. For example, Padma was a very social person. Mandy was not.

“What, was his letter ten pages shorter than yours?” She wouldn’t blame him, either. Poor thing, getting involved with Padma. Granted, she was gorgeous, but she was high maintenance—even to her best friend.

“No,” Padma replied in a lofty tone. “It has nothing to do with _.”

Mandy stared at her friend, surprised. Well, that was a first. “What’s up, Padma?”

Padma paused. “Well, it has to do with the DA,” she said hesitantly.

“What about it?”

“I still don’t get why you won’t come with Terry and me,” Padma said. Mandy shrugged.

“I have OWLs to study for.” Lame excuse, but the truth was she didn’t really have a reason. Padma knew all of that already. She must be trying to get at something else. “Seriously, if it’s about your precious DA…what can I possibly do to help?”

“We need your network.”

“So nice to know you love me for no ulterior motives whatsoever,” Mandy said teasingly. Padma smirked.

“Hey, it’s your own fault. So, will you help or what?”

“It kind of depends on what you want from them, doesn’t it?” Mandy loped her arm around Padma with a grin. “Tell me more, and I’ll see what I can do.”

*************

“Do you think Padma can really get Mandy to help us?” Terry looked over to Padma’s twin. She seemed nervous.

“If anyone can, it’s Padma,” he replied assuringly. The fifth years of Ravenclaw were all pretty close, but the only person who Mandy really seemed to listen to was Padma. Which was ironic, if you thought about it—Padma hardly ever listened to Mandy in return.

“Well, well, if it isn’t a conspiracy,” said Mandy, poking Terry in the back. He nearly jumped, but was able to manage to lessen his reaction to a mere twitch. She leaned over his shoulder so he could see her. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be studying Defense Against the Dark Arts so intensely, you’re incredibly easy to sneak up on.”

Terry shook his head with a rueful smile. “You’re the only one who can still sneak up on me and you know it.” Mandy inclined her head in agreement; Padma and Pavarti exchanged glances and hid giggles behind their hands. Terry sighed to himself. Why hadn’t he wanted to get Anthony or Michael or the others in on this again? The only thing more terrifying than Umbridge had to be giggling teenage girls…

“Here, let me see if I understand this,” Mandy said, taking a seat beside Terry while Padma plunked down next to her twin. “You want me to use my agents,” her lips curved into a smile, “to throw Malfoy off your trail.”

The three DA members shrugged. “Yeah, that’s about it,” Terry said. Mandy’s eyes sparkled with a frightening glee, and Terry was forced to revise his position—the only thing scarier than Umbridge was an impassioned Mandy.

“You all are good at enlisting, aren’t you?” she chuckled. “Just one more question—why now? Malfoy’s been after Potter and friends for ages.”

Pavarti sighed. “It looks like he might actually know something now. Versus his usual Slytherin bigotry.”

Mandy waggled a finger. “Now, now, I have agents in Slytherin too.”

“In our year?” Padma shot back.

Mandy grinned. “I can’t comprise my sources, dearheart.” Terry smiled to himself. The look she wore now was the one that had made her the most feared person in House Ravenclaw. The one she always wore when things were about to get interesting.

*************

“You know,” Mandy said conversationally, “I always did think Malfoy had an unhealthy obsession with Potter.”

“I know,” Terry quipped. “I read your journal.” Mandy rolled her eyes and pantomimed hitting him with a book, to which he retaliated by mocking her handwriting. Padma smiled. It was when those two were getting along in their weird way that you knew everything was going to be all right.

“Are they normally like this?” Pavarti whispered.

“You have no idea,” Padma replied. “They’re worse than quintuplets in a pentarchy. Always going at one another.”

“Going out, are they?”

Padma grinned. “Not just yet. They will, though.” Pavarti smiled knowingly before turning to the still-bickering duo.

“Hey,” the sole Gryffindor of the group said, waving her hands to call Mandy and Terry’s attention to her. “What are we waiting for?”

Mandy snapped to attention, suddenly all business. Padma stifled a giggle at the sight of Terry standing behind Mandy, mouthing “I won.” He was worse then Michael, the rougue, and that was saying something.

“Your Housemate,” Mandy said with a yawn. She checked her watch and sighed. “Honestly, are Ravenclaws the only ones who still believe in punctuality?”

“Apparently,” Pavarti muttered. Padma sighed. Her sister had yet to learn that one shouldn’t take House loyalty too seriously. Especially not Mandy’s.

“Another Gryff? Thought your resources were limited there, Mandy,” Padma said, to break the awkward silence. Mandy laughed.

“A bit. The younger ones are easier to talk to,” she admitted. Pavarti’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she didn’t say anything. Padma thought they were already being a bit too loud. It was the peak study hour, so there were lots of students roaming the halls. Though none of them were doing anything against the rules—yet—they still didn’t want to call unnecessary attention to themselves. The alcove they’d tucked themselves into keep them mostly from sight of the main hallway, but it wouldn’t stop their sound.

Padma perked up when she heard the sound of running footsteps. The mysterious last person of their quintet? A blond head appeared with no warning, followed by the familiar flash of a camera. Padma blinked at the light, and groaned. No way…Mandy used him as an agent?

“Hello, Colin,” Mandy said calmly. “Did you fix the pictures like I asked you to?”

Colin nodded enthusiastically and handed Mandy a packet. She opened it and tipped the flap just enough for her to verify they were what she wanted, and then she smiled at the others. Padma still was in shock. Not only was Colin a member of DA, but he was like Potter’s personal paparazzi. How on earth did Mandy get a hold of him? Mandy seemed to follow her train of thought, because she winked at Padma and mouthed, “Tell you later.” There better be a good explanation.

“So, Mandy, what’s the plan?” Terry asked.

“Infiltrate via my fifth column and leave false evidence,” Mandy replied cheerfully. Padma nodded. So that’s what Creevey’s photos were for…

“Infiltrate?” Colin asked eagerly. “You’re going to sneak in somewhere?”

Mandy smiled at him. “You might say that.”

“Wait…so what are the rest of us for?” Pavarti demanded.

“Things might get interesting…it would be nice to have a bail-out if a situation does arise,” Mandy said nonchalantly. Padma knew that translated to something like, “What I’m doing is very dangerous and completely against all school rules and I really, really am going to want an alibi when I get caught.” It wasn’t exactly risk free for them, either—Terry had ended up in the Headmaster’s office last year.

“Look, it’s really easy to be overheard here, so we’ll cover the details on the way,” Mandy whispered. “Let’s go, shall we?” she added in her normal tone. Padma eyed Creevey, and shrugged. It was Mandy masterminding this thing, so she had to know what she was doing…

*************

“Did I mention I’m totally winging this?”

“Mandy!” She grinned. The four of them had said her name in unison, in exactly the same exasperated tone. Well, except for Colin. He always sounded hyper, like a five year old after downing his weight in Pixie Stixs. And boy, did she have experience with Pixie Stix’d five year olds. She still had the scars from her sister Lena.

“You guys are so gullible,” she said, stopping next to a statue of Bathilda Bagshot. “Really, you come to me for help and then start questioning my actions every step of the way. Is that really fair?”

“Do we have to answer that?” Terry, of course. She nearly stuck out her tongue at him but then remembered Colin’s presence. She was supposed to be a respectable and responsible figure in front of him. That was the only downside to working with the younger students.

Mandy smiled, just a little. “Padma, Terry, you two clear on your lines?”

“Of course,” Padma said, jabbing Terry with her elbow to make him reply “Ow-yes” as well. “You herd him out, we’ll do the talking.”

“And we’ll distract him!” Colin said happily. Pavarti rolled her eyes.

“That’s right.” Mandy took a deep breath; she was going to need it. “Then…I’m going in.” They nodded, Terry and Padma wished her luck. Why am I doing this? she wondered. I could be expelled, or given months of detention… She knew why, though she didn’t want to admit it. Besides disliking Malfoy intensely…she also admired the DA leaders. Potter, Granger, Weasley…in a way, what they did was just like what she was doing now. Except she had far more experience at sneaking around the castle undetected.

She slipped into the girl’s bathroom nearest the Slytherin common room, making sure it was empty as she walked in. She entered the fifth stall from the right, closing the door behind her before removing a stone behind the toilet. She was lucky to even know of this spot—nobody except one of her Slytherin agents seemed to even know it existed. Happily, that Slytherin agent was also her size. She grabbed the sweater and cloak stuffed in the cavity before pulling her own off—it wouldn’t do to have Ravenclaw ensignia on, now would it? The last touch was a green patterned bandana she used to tie up her hair, and fake silver-rimmed glasses. If she kept away from close contact with the other Slytherins, they’d never know she wasn’t one of their Housemates. It was times like these she blessed the solitary nature of Slytherins.

Mandy felt around the cavity under she found what she was looking for, a scrap of parchment that read in neat calligraphy, “Wailing Widow.” Humming to herself, she stuffed her own clothes into the cavity and replaced the stone. On her way out, Mandy shredded the paper into very tiny pieces before tossing them into the wastebasket and conjuring a magical flame to burn away the evidence. Next stop, Slytherin common room.

She continued to hum to herself as she walked down the corridors, lapsing into “Weasley is Our King.” It was a horrible song—for one thing, Malfoy couldn’t be a lyricist to save his life—but it was a catchy little tune. She nearly ran into a little Slytherin first year (literally) but the girl was nimble enough to dodge and polite enough not to demand an explanation of her senior “Housemate.” The first year seemed to recognize the tune, though, and began humming it herself as she continued down the hallway. Mandy had to clench a fist in front of her mouth to keep from laughing. So impressionable, the young. She stopped in front of the stretch of wall the girl had stepped out of and said clearly “Wailing Widow”—and the concealed stone door slid open. She always wondered why there weren’t more precautions against entering a House not one’s one—but she supposed most people never tried it, or went to the lengths she did to gain entry.

She had to duck as she entered, going down a short stretch of steps before the cavernous common room had a level ceiling. The green lights kept the lighting dim, unlike the super-bright Ravenclaw tower. Of course, their floating candles did help the lighting situation, whereas even if the Slytherins did have candles, they’d probably all burn out from getting dripped on by the ceiling or something. It was so damp so here. Mandy knew they were close to the lake, but really, it seemed like it wouldn’t be that hard to magic the room dry.

She felt the packet of photos hidden in her cloak for reassurance. Now, all she had to do was plant these and she was good to go. It was simple, really.

“Who are you?” Mandy whirled around to face a sulky-looking boy whom she vaguely recognized as being part of the third year. She couldn’t remember his name for the life of her, though, and she was normally very good with names. This was the first time she’d been outright challenged, and she was at a loss.

“I’m…” Hesitantly she spoke the name of her agent, hoping the Slytherin wouldn’t kill her later. The boy eyed her suspiciously. Obviously he wasn’t buying it.

“Oh, Dane, do you like my simulacrum?” Mandy froze as her agent appeared out of the shadows. Pull this off and I will so get you Davies’ home address, Mandy thought to herself fervently. Her agent was rather fond of the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain.

The boy looked to the new arrival. “A what?”

“Simulacrum,” she replied. “I’ve been experimenting. Of course, she doesn’t look exactly like me just yet, but in time…” Mandy bit her lip to keep from laughing; the other meaning of “simulacrum” was a falsehood. And Mandy was most certainly a false Slytherin…

Dane shrugged and slouched off, and Mandy breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” she whispered as her agent led her into the shadows.

“What are you here for? I thought you were going to tell me before you came in the common room again.” She sounded exasperated.

“Sorry, this came up last minute. I just need to run up to the dorm and I’ll be on my merry way.” Mandy looked over at the chairs where the sulky Dane had gone off to. “He’s not going to cause trouble, is he?”

“No, he’s just annoying.” Her agent smirked. “Are you going to the dorm I think you’re going to?”

“Is he out?”

She nodded—at least there was one less thing for Mandy to worry about.

“I owe you big time,” Mandy said.

“No kidding.” The Slytherin girl paused. “Get me a jersey?”

“You sure know how to strike a deal,” Mandy muttered. “I’ll get it by next Monday. Check the normal spot.” Her agent grinned and hurried off to run interference.

Mandy made her way up to the fifth year boy’s dorm, thanking the Founders they’d trusted girls enough to make this possible. Like her agent had said, it was empty. Mandy hurried over to the desk belonging to Malfoy—made rather obvious by the revolting family pictures, a large box of chocolates presumably from his mum, and a very thick envelope with swirling cursive letters addressing it to “my little Draco.” He was so an only child. She was surprised he left something of such a sensitive nature just lying around. She considered sneaking a peak, but this particular trip had already been hazardous enough. The last thing she wanted was for “little Draco” to come back while she was planting photographs. Besides, she’d read his mum’s last letter and it hadn’t been of much interest, other than to note that it really was possible to use all of Draco’s fifteen pet names in one sentence.

Mandy leaned down and opened the second drawer on the right, prying the false back off the drawer to open Malfoy’s secret compartment. She opened the packet and slipped out a piece of parchment she’d stayed up until two this morning to create. In Marietta Edgecombe’s handwriting, and specifically spelled so that any attempt to trace its origins would lead back to Marietta. Mandy usually only got average grades in most of her spellwork, but, then again, most of the professors didn’t test on forgeries and how to create them. She hadn’t given the others too many details about this part of the plan, mostly because Marietta was their fellow member of Dumbledore’s Army and they were likely to protest getting an innocent caught in crossfire. Though Mandy doubted Marietta was much of an innocent. She was positive the sixth year was blabbing to someone, just not Malfoy specifically. She didn’t really have proof, just her intuitive feeling. But Mandy’s intuition was a lot more reliable than most people’s.

She placed the note on top of the desk and sorted through the photos, which she hadn’t had much time to do before. Hyper as Colin tended to be, he knew how to follow instructions. She picked two or three which best suited her purposes, stuffed them into the drawer, tucked the note in front of the photos, and then shut the secret compartment again. Mandy scanned the chocolates, which hadn’t been eaten. The background of the box was the same as always, a thick lined pentagram. She took five chocolates, one at each of the star’s points, and pocketed them in the cloak, making a mental note to make sure she transferred them when she put the robe back. Malfoy would see the chocolates missing, would check the secret compartment and discover new “evidence,” and put it together with what Terry, Padma, and the others were going to feed him. It was all coming together grandly.

*************

Draco wasn’t sure what it was about today, but it was a good day. He’d gotten the weekly box of chocolates from Mum, and made Weasley go red with anger at lunchtime. The fool was so easy to manipulate, and he rose to the bait every time. Best of all, he’d run into some of Potter’s new lackeys on the way back to the common room. They hadn’t seen him, but they’d been talking more than loudly enough for him to overhear, and he had some experience at eavesdropping. One of the Patil twins and a Ravenclaw boy…what’s-his-name…Shoe or Boot or something. He’d been keeping tabs on certain people Professor Umbridge had let him know might be getting into something with Potter, and these two were definitely on the list. They’d mentioned some kind of meeting later that night, and how they were going to “show Malfoy.” Hah! As if any of them could show him anything but their immense stupidity. It had sounded like they were going to meet somewhere near the lake, because they kept complaining about how damp the walls were and how slick the corridors. If he could just find out where they were meeting, he could get them in trouble for being out past curfew as well. Revenge was sweet… (even those these fools hadn’t done anything to him in particular yet, it was always best to hit them with a preemptive revenge strike)

Crabbe and Goyle greeted him with their usual grunts when he entered their dorm room. He’d always wondered why they couldn’t be allowed private bedrooms. At least the Slytherins…honestly, his father gave more than enough money to these places, the least they could do was accommodate him with proper lodgings. He sat down in his desk with a sigh, looking forward to the chocolates—only to discover five of them missing. The points of the pentagram, no less. “Crabbe! Goyle! Did you eat my chocolates?”

Goyle looked bewildered. “You have chocolates?” Draco realized he was accusing the wrong people. For one thing, Crabbe and Goyle would have devoured the whole thing if they knew about it. Secondly, they were far too thick to think of taking things to leave an empty pattern.

A pattern… Could it be? The only downside of the day was not knowing where Saint Potter and his Crusaders for Dumbledore were meeting. But if his source had gotten back to him… He glanced around, seeing only Crabbe and Goyle. They were of no import, so he didn’t hesitant to open the secret door. Ah hah! Success! A note and what looked like photographs…

Draco,

Our last meeting was rather productive—for me, I mean. They’re so caught up in dealing with Umbridge they didn’t think to question when I began taking photos, because they assume we’re all trustworthy. Our next meeting is tonight, you can deduct the location from the photos. It’s nearby the docks, of course…

Make sure the Professor knows my part in this. When we finally take down Potter and friends, I want my fair share.

Marietta Edgecombe

Draco’s smile grew. This day was the best. There was nothing that could spoil it now, even missing some of his mum’s chocolates. He was going to take down Potter, make Mum and Dad proud…and make those Gryffindors grovel. They were going to regret all those times they’d made fun of him, or thought of making fun of him, or even remotely considered the possibility of uttering anything bordering on a derogatory comment about the Malfoy family. Life was good.

*************

Mandy plopped down onto a squashy pillow, admiring the décor of the DA practice room. Hundreds of books only served to improve the atmosphere. She grinned at the others. “So…how did it go?”

Pavarti shook her head in amazement. “It was crazy…it worked out just like you said it would.” Colin added his agreement from behind a very large chocolate muffin which he had apparently swiped from the kitchens on the way up from the dungeons.

“We told you,” Terry said, “Mandy’s the best at this sort of thing.” Padma grinned as she hugged her best friend. Mandy coughed.

“I do wonder, though…” she managed to say despite Padma’s demonstration of affection.

“About what? You don’t think Malfoy caught on, do you?” Pavarti asked.

“No, it’s just…a weird feeling.” Mandy shrugged.

The door opened, and everyone froze. No way…Malfoy couldn’t have caught them, not when it looked like he had been falling into their trap…slowly the face of the intruder came into the room, and Mandy stifled a gasp. No way.

The Headmaster himself stood in the doorway, beaming at them while twiddling his thumbs. It’s uncanny…how does he do that? “Though I hate to interrupt, perhaps you’d best get to your common rooms,” Dumbledore said pleasantly. Mandy blinked. He knew, she knew he knew, and he must know that she knew he knew…but he wasn’t going to do anything?

“I daresay a certain student will likely rouse a certain professor in the near future,” he continued, “and it would be best if there was no one to question, wouldn’t it?”

The five students exchanged glances. No way…the Headmaster himself was letting them get away with this. Mandy allowed herself a small smile. This totally kicked.

“We’ll be off, then, Professor Dumbledore,” she said breezily, hooking her elbow around Padma’s arm and grabbing Terry’s arm with her other hand. “See you two later, then, Pavarti, Colin.”

“Yeah, see you…” Pavarti said, pushing Colin out the door in front of her. Mandy looked back, to see Dumbledore close the door to the Room of Requirement, and walk off, humming what could only be “Weasley is Our King.”

[timeturner]

The Hufflepuff Hex

“I’ve got it!” Ernie shouted, nearly bouncing up and down in his excitement.

“Got what?” Hannah said, reluctantly looking up from Chapter Five of The Quintessential Quinquefoliate.

“I know how we can defeat the Hufflepuff Hex,” Ernie said, surveying the Common Room and wishing more people were around to witness his stroke of genius.

Hannah rolled her eyes, “Ernie, we’ve discussed this loads of times. There is no such thing as the Hufflepuff Hex.”

“Yes there is!” Ernie immediately proclaimed, his eyes wild with conviction. “The Hex is the only thing holding back our noble house, Hannah. Do you realize that this year is the quincentennial of Hufflepuff’s last House Cup victory? We’ve been cursed! Cursed for five hundred years! It’s the only explanation.”

“Maybe we’re just really unlucky,” Hannah reasoned.

“Unlucky! Ha!” Ernie yelled, gathering even more steam for his crazy train. “Think about it Hannah. We deserve to win. Everyone knows that Hufflepuff works the hardest at everything.”

Hannah sighed. She felt sorry for poor Ernie. He still lived under the impression that anything could happen if you worked hard enough. The philosophy was true most of the time, but the fact was, you needed to cheat like a Slytherin or have a boy like Harry Potter if you wanted to win a House Cup at Hogwarts. Even the Ravenclaws with their smarty pants weren’t clever enough to just pull a victory out of a pointy hat. Ernie simply couldn’t live with the indignity of losing every year. To ease the tear-jerking grief, he came up with what he called the Hufflepuff Hex.

According to Ernie, a hex had been placed upon Hufflepuff some five hundred years ago. Hannah couldn’t remember exactly how the complicated conspiracy went, but she knew it somehow involved the Fat Friar, a house elf, a pentagram, a magic bullet made of something called Jello, and a group of Quintuplets who were supposedly direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin.

“Everyone works hard at Hogwarts,” Hannah chided. “Well, maybe not Slytherin. They seem to somehow get by on Malfoy’s pinched and pointy good looks. Actually, it might be Professor Snape who helps them slide by. He really knows how to grease the doors of opportunity for his students...”

“You can’t put two and two together and make five, Hannah. Malfoy or Snape have nothing to do with it. The hex is to blame,” Ernie said with such exuberance that he almost fell off the soapbox he had climbed up on.

“Would you get down from there before you hurt yourself,” Hannah said pointing to the box of Mrs. Skower’s All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover. “Sit in a chair like everyone else does.”

“I can’t just wall flower around for another five hundred years waiting for the hex to be lifted. We only have two years left at Hogwarts. Wouldn’t you like to leave here having won the Cup at least once? Just consider the prestige that we could bring to our House. Why, Dumbledore might even throw a parade in our honor,” Ernie said, picturing himself riding high upon a chocolate frog card-covered float while the school’s talented quintet serenaded him with songs of admiration.

“I suppose,” Hannah admitted. “What’s your plan?”

“We shall have a competition, but not just any competition. We shall have a Pentathlon that is as fair and true as the House of Hufflepuff. Let them beat that,” Ernie said with the confident air of a queen touting baked goods to her bread deficient subjects.




During the Quintilis, Ernie’s dream of a hex-breaking Pentathlon finally became a reality. Chosen students from each House within the school would be participating in a competition of pentamerous proportions. Whoever won the Pentathlon would receive an unprecedented 1000 house points, making their House a shoe-in for the Cup.

Some of the professors were surprised that Dumbledore had so readily approved Ernie’s proposal. McGonagall secretly called the whole idea a debacle in the making, but had carefully chosen and trained her Gryffindor representative none the less. Snape was also taking a proactive approach by allowing his representative to carry and consume flasks of something that Muggles called a “Protein Shake”. The potions professor had also tried his hand at intimidation, giving Ernie the evil eye in the corridor and muttering strange sentiments like “I’ll get you MacMillan, you and your little dog.”

Ernie was not about to be intimidated, but the whole situation was making a nervous wreck of Hannah, who kept fearfully reminding him that he didn’t have a dog. On the other hand, the rest of Hufflepuff was thrilled. On the day of the Pentathlon, they filed into the stands of the Quidditch Stadium looking like an ecstatic clan of jaundice sufferers. Each Hufflepuff had used a charm to turn their skin yellow, hoping to represent themselves as little rays of sunshine.

Unfortunately, not everyone admired the look. Malfoy and his cronies kept loudly comparing the Hufflepuff faces to yellow snowballs with google eyes. In response, a large amount of the Hufflepuffs threatened to wash Malfoy’s face in yellow snow first chance they got. The Ravenclaws and Gryffindors soon became involved in the debate and it wasn’t long before complete pandemonium swept the stands.

It took Madam Hooch, who had recently shocked the Hogwart’s community by declaring that she was sick of always being the referee and not the refereed, ninety-two blows into her whistle and over five minutes to calm everyone down. Finally the crowd reseated themselves and turned to the pitch where the four representatives of each house stood: Susan Bones for Hufflepuff, Anthony Goldstein for Ravenclaw, Jack Sloper for Gryffindor, and Marcus Flint for Slytherin.

“Marcus Flint. I can't believe he's still here,” Hannah muttered from the Hufflepuff stands when Flint’s name was announced into the megaphone. “I mean really, how many years can he be held back?”

“He is getting a little old to be in school,” Ernie said in agreement.

Hannah snorted. “A little? Look at his face! He’s already got a five o’clock shadow and it’s only noon!”

Before Ernie could respond, Dumbledore announced the Pentathlon events that were to take place.

“Event One, The Shoe-Kick,” Dumbledore called. “Event Two, Roll the Barrel. Event Three, Pick up Cotton Balls with a Vaseline Covered Nose. Event Four, Sack Race. And finally, Event Five, Spin in Circles without Falling Down.”

The crowd went wild. Next to Quidditch, Gobstones, and Wizard’s Chess, the five events that Dumbledore just announced were the most popular games in the wizarding world.

Susan Bones began The Shoe-Kick. Unfortunately for the Slytherin stands, she had chosen to wear platform clogs for the event, thus rendering several of their spectators unconscious when she performed an amazing kick on her very first try. The other contestants each took their turn enthusiastically, but they were unable to go the distance, giving Hufflepuff an early lead.

Roll the Barrel was next. Everyone knows that during the running and rolling of the barrel, some poor roller inadvertently gets rolled under, making themselves a laughing stock and a poster child for schoolyard trauma. So, it was no surprise when Anthony Goldstein went down hard and the entire crowd laughed at him. The embarrassment caused his face to burn so red hot that Madam Hooch had difficulty getting the petroleum jelly to stay on his nose for the third event. Luckily for Ravenclaw it stayed. Anthony was able to redeem himself with a respectable second place. Susan won first place for the third time.

By the time the fourth event began, all of the Hufflepuffs were beside themselves with glee. Marcus Flint had been forced to take five and leave the pitch for health reasons. It was rumored that Ginny Weasley had used a switching spell on Flint’s flask, changing his protein shake into another Muggle drink which was chocolate flavored and high in fiber.

Even Slytherin recognized that Flint never stood a chance anyway. It was common knowledge that nobody could sack race quite like Susan, who had learned from the best, her Aunt Amelia, the Sack Race Champion of the World. As expected, Susan won first place yet again, giving hope to Ernie and the other hexed Hufflepuffs.

With the last event upon them, Ernie and Hannah rose to their feet. If Susan could avoid falling down first, Hufflepuff would get the victory. The contestants began to spin in circles, arms outstretched. The entire crowd was on their feet. It wasn’t long before Sloper, Flint, and Goldstein hit the ground like human helicopters, making Susan the winner.

The Hufflepuff stands exploded. Students rushed the pitch hoisting Susan and Ernie to their shoulders in celebration. Ernie saw Hannah running below him. He reached out towards her, grasping her hand and pulling her up beside him.

“You did it, Ernie!” Hannah cried above the noise of the crowd.

Ernie shook his head, “Hufflepuff did it, together!”

"Oh Ernie, what a cheesy thing to say."

"I can't help it, Hannah," Ernie smiled ruefully. "I'm the cheesiest."