I own nothing.

The Two Princes of Hogwarts

-Chapter Nine:

Friday afternoon found Hermione and Luna making their way towards the quidditch pitch. "How goes the planning for the study group?" Luna asked.

"I've studied all the spells Professor Flitwick gave me and it shouldn't be too hard for us," Hermione stated.

"What about for them?" Luna pressed, gesturing towards the hordes of Gryffindors sitting at the pitch cheering.

"Working on it," Hermione admitted. "You know, if teaching was easy, teachers wouldn't need to be qualified."

"Teaching the right way," Luna grumbled darkly as they joined Ron at the edge of the pitch.

"Where's Arkin?" Hermione asked.

"Up there," the redhead stated. They both turned to stare at the blur flitting through the air.

"A whole new world!" a familiar voice warbled offkey from above. Hermione let out a long, tortured groan.

"Did you let Harry take Arkin up?" she asked.

"Yeah," Ron replied.

"Let me rephrase that," Hermione growled. "Did you let Arkin go up on the fastest production broom with a seeker?" Ron let out an amused snort.

"Yeah. When you put it like that, it does seem like a horrible idea," he admitted. He let out a long sigh. "So, this is how you give someone a phobia." The large young man budged slightly and there was a grunt from behind them. They turned and saw Angelina on the ground.

"Sorry. I was distracted. What's Harry doing up there?"

"Traumatizing Arkin," Hermione grumbled.

"I mean, why is he flying like that?" Angelina asked.

"Like what?" Ron asked as he offered a hand and pulled the smaller woman to her feet. She stared at him strangely.

"Like a lunatic with his bristles on fire," Angelina stated.

"We don't use that word here," Ron said firmly.

"Sorry," Angelina replied, shooting a glance at Luna before prodding him in the chest. "Hold out your arms."

"Okay?" Ron held out his arms. Angelina studied him for a moment before seizing his wrist and pressing her palm against his. His fingers were a good two inches longer than hers.

"You're trying out for the catcher position."

"Well, I wasn't planning on it, but. . ."

"You're trying out for the catcher position," Angelina interrupted. She took a step forward and stood on her toes in order to almost come up to Ron's chin as she stared at him. "Understand."

"Yeah, sure. Sounds fun."

"Good," Angelina stated before stomping away. "Potter! Quit screwing around and get down here." Hermione and Luna both stared at the redhead.

"What?" he demanded.

"Coward," Luna stated. Ron's retort was interrupted by Arkin stumbling over to them. The first year was pale and trembling.

"That was. . .that was. . .that was. . .that was. . ."

"It's okay, Arkin," Hermione stated. "Most of the time, brooms are just. . ."

"That was awesome!" Arkin shrieked. They all stared at him.

"Future seeker, I guess," Ron said with a shrug.

"When do I get to learn to fly a broom?" Arkin demanded.

"A few weeks?" Hermione ventured, casting her mind back to her first year and the least important, to her, class she had, "and Madame Hooch will probably kill you if you try any of that, if you don't get yourself killed first."

"Or he'll end up a.. ." Ron grunted as Hermione's elbow slammed into his solar plexus. "Right," he wheezed. "So, tonight?"

"Tonight," Hermione agreed.

"What's tonight?" Arkin asked, causing the other three to glance at each other. "You're sneaking out, aren't you?"

"That's the kind of question that Neville really doesn't want you to ask," Hermione stated.

"We're just not going to be around tonight and Saturday," Ron stated. "We'll be busy with something."

"Can I come?" Arkin asked eagerly. They glanced at each other again. They had discussed it, but aside from how questionable sneaking an eleven-year-old into a foreign country was, they weren't too crazy about having the young boy around while they. . .relaxed. Especially with how "relaxed" the rest were planning to get Ron.

"Maybe third year," Luna ventured. Hermione and Ron glanced at each other. That was when Luna had joined them.

"But that's two years from now," Arkin whined.

"Yes. Yes it is."


Harry almost made it, but his toe caught something and he sprawled on the floor. "So close," Sirius commented.

"Shut up," Harry growled as he hauled himself up. He was almost knocked back to the floor as a French blonde suddenly slammed into his arms. "Ama." He gave her a squeeze and she was suddenly out of his arms and glaring at him.

"I did not appreciate the howler," Amalie growled.

"I did not appreciate finding out my girlfriend had a job where blowing herself up was considered a daily occurrence," Harry countered.

"It's not daily," Amalie grumbled before snuggling back up to him

"Awe, the honey moon phase," Sophie said. "It's only been a week."

"Seems like more than a year," Harry admitted.

"Oh, my God," Hermione moaned. "We've only been back at school for a week!"

"Anyway, I told you he would figure it out," Sophie commented, choosing to ignore the younger woman's existential crisis.

"Yeah, but he figured it out later, so I didn't have to worry about it at the time," Amalie protested.

"Well!" Ron announced, as he stood by the balcony, looking out over Monte Carlo, "speaking of procrastinating, how about we hit the town? Me and Luna didn't get to party around the world like some people."

"What's wrong with a little pregaming?" Harry ventured, shooting a glance at Sirius. The older man nodded and climbed to his feet to head for the liquor cabinet.

"It's been a while," Luna agreed. "We should work our way up."

"I guess," Ron agreed as he dropped himself into an over-stuffed chair.

"Harry and I found a couple of fun things while we were traveling," Sirius added as he set down a large mason jar. "This is from our friend Pete in Louisiana."

"Oh, you went back to New Orleans?" Hermione asked.

"Well," Harry began, "we did, but this is from somewhere else."

"That doesn't sound ominous," Ron grunted as he prodded the mason jar.

"You see. . ." Sirius began.

"Sirius got us lost," Harry interrupted. "We ended up in some swamp called a bayou and found a small bar. It was kind of weird, since most of them were speaking really bad French, but I made friends and the bartender sold us some of his personal alcohol."

"That doesn't sound safe," Hermione commented.

"It's alcohol, of course it's not safe," Sirius countered.

"It's also highly flammable and burns with a nearly invisible flame," Harry added. "So, no smoking."

"I'm going to regret this aren't I?" Ron asked.

"Of course not!" Harry announced. "Afterall, you'd have to be able to remember this to regret it. Cheers!" Sirius poured everyone a heroic measure and they made themselves comfortable.

"So," the older man began, "anyone have interesting news?"

"I got the keeper position for the quidditch team," Ron stated as he sniffed his glass suspiciously.

"Oh, I didn't know you were trying out," Sirius commented.

"Yeah," Ron snorted. "Yeah, neither did I."

"Coward," Luna added.


Harry sipped his water and squinted at his first friend. Though the world wobbled, he could see that the man was flushed and snickering. "Okay, so, listen, Crabbe got hurt when he stared at Harry's head, right?"

"Seems to be about the size of things," Harry agreed.

"But your hand was fine, right?" Ron pressed. Amalie's hand tightened over Harry's and she shot him an annoyed glance. "So, is it a power thing? The killing curse has to be really powerful, right?" That brought a moment of silence to the room and most of them glanced at Hermione. She scowled at them all.

"For some reason, the school library doesn't have any books on the Unforgivables," she grumbled.

"Checked that already, did you?" Harry asked.

"First year," Hermione stated.

"And you are one of the reasons they don't have them," Sirius stated, "people like you and Lilly."

"Actually," Amalie announced. "The killing curse doesn't require that much power." They all turned on her. "Apprentice spell research and development, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Still annoyed," Harry replied.

"You'll get over it," Amalie countered. "Anyway, have any of you wondered why the Unforgivables are unforgivable when most of their effects can be copies with other spells?"

"Well, I am now," Hermione admitted.

"All spells rely on intent," Amalie lectured. "The Unforgivables are unforgivable because of the intent behind them. Imperius requires a malicious desire to control your fellow man, Cruciatus requires a desire to cause extreme pain and the Killing curse requires a desire to. . ."

"Kill?" Ron blurted.

"Murder," Amalie corrected.

"You're the second person who has said something like that," Hermione commented.

"There is a distinction," Amalie said.

"I killed someone," Harry said suddenly. The whole room went silent. "Did I murder him?"

"You killed him," Amalie allowed, "but what did you intend to do?" Despite her words, her hand tightened on his again and forced his arm to wrap around her waist more tightly. Harry cast his mind back to those desperate moments at the end of his first year.

"I intended," he began slowly, "to stop him from getting the Philosopher's Stone."

"And why did you want that?" Amalie pressed.

"I wanted that because I knew that if he got it, he would be able to hurt my friends," Harry replied.

"Real ignoble goals there, mate," Ron commented before sipping his glass again. "Real ignoble. You should be locked up." That seemed to break the tension in the room and they all laughed, some more giddily than others.

"Anyway," Amalie continued, "the Killing curse requires shockingly little power considering it takes life from any living thing. The counter point is that it takes an enormous desire to murder someone just for the sake of wanting them to die. No desire to protect. No desire to stop. Not even a desire for something as dirty as revenge. It's just death because the caster desires it. Such a thing even damages the soul. Maybe. That's starting to get into philosophy and I only deal in facts."

"Amen," Hermione agreed immediately, toasting Harry's girlfriend.

"That's fucked up," Ron said simply. Everyone nodded in agreement. "So, the Killing curse, not actually as powerful magically as one may think. That means Crabbe should've been more weirded out by Harry's hand, right?" Harry was impressed by the inebriated man's ability to come back to the topic. He glanced at Luna and Hermione, but they just shrugged. "I mean, if the Killing curse isn't some all-powerful magic of death, its effects shouldn't linger long enough to be more potent that magic that was just cast, right?"

"We wouldn't know since no one has. . ." Harry's hand shot from Amalie's abdomen to her mouth. He knew when Ron was rolling and nothing should interrupt it.

"So," Ron ventured, swaying in his seat, "whatever Crabbe saw in Harry's scar, it's not a lingering problem cause by an all-powerful spell. In order for it to be more disturbing than his hand, there's something still there. There's something active. It's happening. Right now." The redhead stretched out a hand to point at Harry's scar, but he leaned too far and flopped out of his seat onto the table with a crash. He rolled off it and landed on his back. Harry caught the nearly empty mason jar as it was catapulted at his head in a dazzling display of drunk reactions that seemed barely human.

"Ron?" Hermione began. Any further questioning was interrupted by a loud snore. Luna slumped out of her seat in order to role the redhead onto his side.

"So!" Harry announced loudly, making them all jump as he set down the mason jaw. "Somebody write that down, because I am not going to remember that in the morning."

"It is morning," Sophie stated from her seat next to Sirius, whom had lost his battle with wakefulness many hours before.

"Oh, I remembered it!" Harry said proudly before flopping onto his girlfriend's shoulder in a complete loss of conciseness.


Arkin struggled not to pout as he made his way through the many halls of the school that had become his new life. It wasn't fair! He finally had friends and now they were nowhere to be found. True to their word, his four only friends had not appeared Saturday morning.

That had been somewhat offset as he had been spotted eating alone at the breakfast table by none other than the Head Boy of the whole school. Cedric had dragged him to the Hufflepuff table and introduced him. Apparently, being friends with Harry had made him an honorary Hufflepuff somehow. The Hufflepuffs in his year had been a little stilted and awkward, something Arkin was familiar with, but the older years had been much more personable and prodded for any interesting "Potter stories" that he may have had.

It had been startling to find himself suddenly having friends forced upon him, but, as a usually awkward loner, it had been one of the greatest experiences of his life.

While he loved the fact that he had suddenly been inducted into some sort of friendship cult, it still didn't make up for his first friends leaving him behind to go do something.

"Hold it!" A hand snagged Arkin's collar and jerked him back just as the staircase he had been about to step on swung away from the landing. His heart nearly exploded in his chest as he stared down the many floors he may have fallen into. He turned to stare at his rescuer in shock. The man was a tall blond with a Prefect's badge flanked by an absolutely wall of muscle. "Be careful."

"I'm sorry Mister Prefect," Arkin replied.

"Draco," the blond corrected. "This is my associate Gregory." The wall of muscle grunted. That didn't bother Arkin much. Many of his father's friends were soft-spoken walls of muscle. "You need to be careful young man. Hogwarts is safe, but not for those that wonder about with their heads in the clouds."

"I'm sorry. . ."

"Draco," the blond interrupted. "My name is Draco."

"I'm sorry Draco," Arkin stated.

"Your Potter's junior troublemaker, aren't you?" Draco asked, his eyes narrowing in recognition. "Arkin O'Brian, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Arkin replied quickly. "You're friends with Harry?"

"We are not friends," Draco said firmly. "I take it they went off and left you?"

"They're around somewhere," Arkin said weakly, though being reminded did make him feel bad again. Draco must have noticed.

"Potter and his friends, including you now, do a lot of things they shouldn't," the blond stated carefully. "They left you here for a good reason, I suppose. Whatever they're up to, they probably don't want to put you in a bad position."

"You think so?" Arkin asked.

"I do," Draco said after a moment of thought. "This is the end of the first week of your first year in this school and you're very young. The kind of things they get up to can be rather. . .extreme. I don't suppose you know what they're up to?" Arkin glanced around. They hadn't told him, but he could take a guess.

"I think it's about the Defense teacher." At that, Draco let out a loud laugh and Gregory's head fell into his hands, but his shoulders heaved in silent laughter.

"Of course, it is," Draco managed as he took a deep breath to try to control himself. "You'll learn, it's always the Defense teacher."

"What do you mean?" Arkin asked.

"Every year the Defense teacher goes after Potter and every year they don't make it to the last day," Draco explained.

"Lupin," Gregory grunted.

"Fair," Draco agreed, "though from what we heard, he didn't actually want to harm them."

"Every year?" Arkin asked.

"Every year," Draco confirmed. "Though, I have heard that Umbridge might not be a problem after Monday. Anything else?"

"I think they're trying to figure out what's wrong with Harry's head," Arkin added.

"Other than the screws loose?" Draco stated. Arkin laughed at that, but tried to clamp down on it. It wasn't really insulting and Harry and the rest had said much ruder things to each other.

"No, the thing that the other healer in the hospital wing saw," Arkin replied.

"Other healer?" Draco pondered. He glanced back at Gregory. "Vincent? He didn't mention anything."

"Patient confidentiality," Gregory rumbled.

"But," Draco began.

"Pomfrey would find out," Gregory interrupted with a note of finality.

"I see your point," Draco agreed, "and it's a good one." He glanced down at his watch. "We must be getting back to patrolling." Arkin's mood fell and Draco seemed to notice again. "Would you care to join us?"

"Can I?" Arkin asked quickly.

"As long as you don't tell Potter or the others," Draco stated. "As I said before, we are not friends and this would just cause a lot of trouble I don't want to deal with."

"Okay." Arkin frowned as he considered what he had just agreed to.

"Wait, why aren't you friends? All of you are really nice."

"Well," Draco began. He seemed to ponder that for a moment. "We are just very different people. We all try to help, but we do it in very different ways. That's why I'm a prefect and they're off somewhere plotting something probably terrible. It's complicated." Arkin did understand that. His father had explained how in order for there to be peace, there had to be talkers and fighters. It was a complicated situation and Arkin rather thought that most people his age wouldn't understand it.

"Thank you for not talking down to me."

"Well, if you're hanging out with Granger, I guess I just figured you were smart enough to understand." That buoyed Arkin's spirits even more. "Now, about that thing in Potter's head."


-Author's drunken rambles. Draco you clever bitch. You're getting good at this shit. So, sorry for last month. I was sitting at my computer, probably a little too drunk and the power went out. I got out the lantern, lit that bitch and spent the rest of the night smoking a cigar and drinking more. Probably not the greatest idea, but I had no cows around to start a fire, so I feel like I was fine.

Boom. American historical legend joke. That also has discriminatory undertones, like most American historical anything. Oop. Cutting it there. Be a good boy Jack. Don't offend people. They don't like it when you offend people. Well, really offend people, not the "internet offend" people thing.

So. My state legalized weed. That's nice. Pretty pissed at the governor right now. He did it in the most pathetic way, which was he refused to sign or deny it so it just became law by my state's rules. He now gets to be the hero for both sides since a bunch of potheads will cheer for him without bothering to understand anything and the anti-drug crowd will cheer him for refusing to bow down to the drug using hippies.

Also, he's the worst kind of stealth moving shit bag considering the "scary looking" gun ban in my state now.

Alas, as a patriotic gun owner, I cannot partake since weed's federally illegal and gun forms are federal paper work. I mean, I would never lie to the government. It's not like they lied to me in the six fucking years I worked for them, you know? Oh, wait. They lied like a virgin alpha male after prom night.


So Ima keep buying guns like my sexy new Beretta A300 Patrol and "officially" only abusing alcohol! That's totally legal and has never led to any problems!

*Loving uncle's note: Guns and alcohol have led to many problems, including fucking death. Don't fuck with them at the same time. Hell, stay away from alcohol entirely. That shit is toxic with absolutely no benefit and my continued use of it is a severe character flaw that I struggle with on a daily basis.*

Love you. Fuck you. Good night!

-Uncle Jack


"It is with great sadness that I announce the death of Professor Umbridge," Albus announced into the silent Great Hall. The heavy ambiance was finally broken by the youngest Malfoy.

"God damn it, Potter."

"It wasn't me this time!" Harry shrieked, leaping to his feet. Ron snagged him by the back of his robes and sat him down again. That set the whole school to buzzing again as well as several dozen students to go pale and begin trembling as the blond man triggered their shiny new PTSD.

"Silence!" Albus roared calmly, bringing the noise to an end. "In light of this unfortunate situation, we have had to hire a new professor for the Defense Against the Darks Arts course.

"Snape! Snape! Snape! Snape!" The cheering, oddly, did not come from the Slytherin table. Instead, it came from a very particular part of the Gryffindor table. Albus glanced to his side and saw that Severus had gone even more pale than usual. He caught Albus's eye and shook his head emphatically.

"The new professor will be Harry Potter!" The school was deathly silent for a long moment.

"Wait, what?" Harry asked. That was apparently the straw that broke the camel's back as almost all of the students fled the Great Hall. The remainder. . .well.

"Fucking get him!" Ron shrieked. The Gryffindors immediately dogpiled their house mate and wrestled him to the ground.

"I didn't even get to do anything yet!" Harry wailed from under the mass of bodies.

"Yet?" Hermione screeched.

"Why do I keep saying yet?"

"Well, this going. . .great," Minerva stated.

"Yeah," Albus replied with a giggle after a long pull from his goblet.

"What are you drinking?" Minerva demanded.

"Pumpkin juice," Albus answered. His deputy raised her wand, the tip glowing crimson, and waved it over the top of his goblet. There was a small whoosh as the fumes burst into a barely visible blue flame.

"Why can I light it on fire?" Minerva demanded.

"Because it's combustible," Albus explained.

"Why is it combustible?" the woman pressed.

"Cause it's reeeeeeeally good pumpkin juice," Albus said happily. He planted a hand over the goblet to smother the flames and took another long drink, nodding in approval at the new, subtle burnt tones from the caramelized sugars. "Nice."



A little Grand Blue humor there. Only the finest of drinking anime references for you guys. DIVING! I mean, diving anime references.

Omake 2. Cause why not? I owe you for the miss.

"Where the hell are we?" Harry asked as he looked around the desolate dirt road they had ended up on.

"I know exactly where we are," Sirius said quickly.

"Nobody knows where we are," Harry countered. There was a loud splash from somewhere just beyond the trees. "Well, except for whatever that was."

"I do to!" Sirius argued. "Look, there's a building right there." Harry followed his god father's finger and stared at the ramshackle shack up ahead.

"We're going to get murdered and skinned alive."

"We're not going to get murdered and skinned alive," Sirius snapped. "You can't die first and then get skinned alive."

True," Harry allowed. "You're going to get murdered and I'm going to commit a slew of felonies that I hope will get overlooked by American law while keeping your corpse from getting skinned." They made their way to the building and stepped inside. All activity immediately stopped as everyone present turned to stare at them.

"Who are you?" the man behind the bar demanded in a language that was half guttural French and half worse English. Harry just picked a language and went with it.

"We're lost," he stated in French.

"French!" the bartender announced and everyone seemed to relax a bit.

"English," Harry corrected. "My girlfriend is French." There was a general round of hooting and jeering at that.

"She the one that mess you up?" the bartender demanded in more English than French as he pointed at his own scarred face.

"A little bit," Harry admitted, rubbing the scar that bisected the left half of his lips with his thumb. "Women."

"What about that one?" the bartender demanded, nodding at Sirius.

"His girlfriend is French too, but he's smart enough to keep his mouth shut," Harry stated. That set off another round of laughter and jeering as they made their way to the bar.

"You ain't cops is you?" the bartender demanded. Harry let out a long sigh.

"I don't get along with law enforcement," he stated. "I keep trying to do good things, but they don't like how I do it."

"My name is Pete, that it is," the bartender stated. "This here is my place."

"Harry," Harry stated. "Sirius," he added, pointing at his godfather. "So, we've been drinking around the world for my birthday. What's the best thing you have?"

"The best thing I have?" Pete demanded in overstated shock, "the best thing I have is the only thing I have." He leaned forward. "You ain't cops?"

"We ain't cops," Harry stated. The man pulled a mason jar up from behind the bar.

"This here is the best there is," he stated as he spun off the top and pulled out two shot glasses. "This here will make you walk across the room without leaving a footstep. It'll make you slap your mama. This is the same thing my great, great, great granddaddy made before he got chased out of Canada." The man poured out two measures. "This'll make you see things."

"Good things?" Harry asked, "cause I've seen too many bad." There was a general noise of agreement at that from the other men in the room, though it was a bit muted.

"Only good things," Pete stated. "I made this in a jungle half way around the world and it was the only thing that got me by." Harry picked up the shot glass and sipped it.

His world turned upside down. His mouth burned. His stomach puckered. Everything bad that had ever happened to him seemed to float away.

"There you go," Pete stated with a bright grin.

"Yeah," Harry grunted, "there I go."



Added this on since I felt bad for missing the last update.

Also, yes. I know it's in Tupperware now instead of mason jars. I've been drunk in more places than most of you have visited. I've woken up across state lines, which to most non-Americans would mean waking up in completely different countries. Hell, I've woken up in a foreign country, but let's not talk about Mexico since I don't even have a passport.