Professor McGonagall sighed in mild frustration as her best friend, Professor Filius Flitwick, led her down the hall towards the classroom where she taught Transfiguration. Being the only ones in the hallway, McGonagall felt easy using the part-goblin's nickname. "Fil, the Yule Ball will be starting in a little over an hour. I want to be in the Gryffindor common room to see the look on the boys' faces when they see the girls make their grand entrances," she told him.
They had almost reached McGonagall's classroom when Flitwick laid a reassuring hand on her arm. "Trust me, Minnie, this won't take too long, and I promise you'll be glad you came with me," he said.
McGonagall gave Flitwick a sly smile, and undid the top button of her robe. "Oh, why didn't just say you wanted a quickie before the ball? We could have just used my quarters." she chided Flitwick in a husky voice.
Flitwick stopped with his hand on the doorknob. He turned to face McGonagall, and stood on his toes to redo her button. "While that does sound like a wonderful idea, and I'm kicking myself for not getting to you earlier so we could have time for a quickie, that's not why I brought you here," he explained. With an excited smile, he took her hand in his. "Do you trust me, Minnie?" he asked, knowing full well what her answer would be.
"You know I do, Fil. Both in this life, and the next one," McGonagall assured him.
"Good. Now close your eyes, and don't open them until I tell you too," Flitwick said. With his free hand, Flitwick opened the door to the Transfiguration classroom, and led McGonagall inside. "Alright, open your eyes now," he stated warmly.
After opening her eyes, McGonagall gasped and then covered her mouth in surprise. Standing in front of her were the Weasley twins, Neville Longbottom, and Harry Potter. All four boys were impeccably dressed in black Prince Charlie jackets and the green and red tartan kilts of the McGonagall clann. Each boy wore a leather sporran emblazoned with a golden lion. Swelling pride brought out the heavy brogue of McGonagall's childhood as she muttered, "My beautiful, bonnie lads."
After a moment, Professor McGonagall regained her composure and stepped forward to get a better look at her Gryffindor boys. Like a commanding general inspecting her troops, she walked in front of each them. After the inspection, she was satisfied that each of the boys was wearing their kit to traditional Highland standards. At least as far as she was willing to check, she had no desire to check to see if they were going "commando" or not. McGonagall turned to look at Flitwick. "I take it I have you to thank for this gift?" she asked.
Flitwick shrugged his shoulders. "Actually, all I did was instruct them on how to wear the clothes. The original idea came from Mr. Potter here," he admitted.
Feeling this was his cue, Harry stepped forward. "I got the idea while the Marauders were discussing whether or not to dress with a common theme for the Yule Ball. Hermione hit on the idea of wearing formal clothes from our cultural heritage, instead of traditional robes," he stated. "As soon as she said that, I knew I had to find a Highland kilt to represent Scotland. Hogwarts is my true home. Of course, once I decided to wear a kilt, there was only one tartan that would do. The tartan of the woman who has been more of a mother to me than anyone I can remember," Harry explained, his voice choking a bit at the last bit as tears formed in the corner of his eyes.
In a very rare move, McGonagall grabbed Harry and pulled him into a tight hug. Silent tears of love also flowed from her eyes. After a moment, McGonagall let go and took a step back.
George stepped up to tell the rest of the story. "Harry told us what he was planning, and the rest of thought it was a wonderful idea. We went to Professor Flitwick for advice on who to go to to get the kilts and jackets made since he has been your friend for such a long time," he explained. McGonagall looked over, and gave Flitwick a warm smile. She also gave him a discreet wink that promised much more after the ball was over.
"I made sure the boys - I'm sorry, young men - knew what wearing the McGonagall tartan to a formal event such as the Ministry sponsored Yule Ball would imply," Flitwick assured her. "When I told them that wearing the McGonagall tartan would be a very public declaration of an alliance between their Houses and Clan McGonagall, the lads looked quite confused," he chuckled. McGonagall raised her eyebrow in an unspoken question.
Neville stepped forward, and smiled shyly at McGonagall. "Harry told Professor Flitwick that he thought everyone already knew we would stand with you, no matter what may come," he said.
Again Professor McGonagall had to cover her mouth to help suppress a surge of raw emotion. When she had regained her normal (meaning very proper) countenance, McGonagall straightened her back, and squared her shoulders. "As the Matriarch of Clan McGonagall, I gladly reaffirm the oaths of alliance between Clan McGonagall and House Longbottom, House Potter, and Clan Weasley," she said formally. With a sigh, she relaxed her posture. "Now you lads come over her, and give this old woman a hug before you go meet up with your beautiful lasses," McGonagall ordered.
The boys happily complied, and caught up McGonagall in a rough group hug. When they were done, the boys started filing out of the room. McGonagall reached out, and lightly touched Harry's arm. "Just a moment of your time, Mr. Potter," she requested, her voice an odd mix of formality and warmth. Harry waited behind after the other boys left. "If you don't mind waiting for a few moments longer, there is something in my quarters that I need to get," she apologized.
Flitwick politely cleared his throat. When he had McGonagall's attention, he pulled out a small box made of polished ebony from one of the pockets of his formal robe. "I thought you might be wanting this, so I stopped by your quarters when you were teaching to grab it," Flitwick informed her.
"Thank you, Fil," McGonagall whispered, temporarily forgetting there was a student in the room. She took the offered box, and reverently opened it to reveal a small, silver knife in a sheath made of the same ebony as the box. "This was my brother's Sgian-dubh or hidden knife. He fought alongside other Highland wizards in the Queen's Wizarding Black Watch. He died in the battle that managed to pin Grindelwald down in the tower where Dumbledore finally defeated him," she explained. "Like me, my brother was close friends with your grandfather. I think Connor would be very honored if you would wear his Sgian-dubh tonight," she stated.
"I am the one who would be honored, Professor," Harry replied. McGonagall nodded her head, and slid the sheathed knife into the top of Harry's right stocking.
Knowing his long time friend was on the brink of tears again, Flitwick ordered, "Now off with you, Harry. There's a very special young witch waiting for you back in your common room!" Without saying anything else, Harry turned around and hurried out of the classroom.
Flitwick handed McGonagall a kerchief to dab her eyes. "You forgot the part about the fact that a non-McGonagall wearing the Clan leader's Sgian-Dubh is telling the world that as far as Clan McGonagall is concerned, that person is a McGonagall."
Harry joined the other male Marauders in the Gryffindor common room to wait for their girlfriends to make a grand entrance at the top of the stairs. The other students had already left so the Marauders and Angelina had the dorm to themselves. When Professors McGonagall and Flitwick joined them, Flitwick twirled his wrist and cast a spell that caused the sound of a drum roll to fill the common room. The drum roll was the signal to the girls that they were ready for their entrance.
Fleur and Angelina were the first to leave the girls' bathroom. The young women were wearing matching silver gowns made for them by Fleur's grandmother. The gowns were made from a sheer fabric that just barely managed to leave things to the observer's imagination, and yet still remain perfectly acceptable in polite society.
As the young women made their way down the stairs to their boyfriends, the Weasley twins couldn't pull their eyes away from how beautiful Fleur and Angelina looked. While still keeping his eyes locked on Fleur, Fred leaned over to George and whispered, "I've just realised what bloody brilliant blokes the Scotts are. If I were wearing trousers right now, I don't think I would be able walk."
George nodded his head in agreement. "I think 'sporran' must be Gaelic for 'boner concealment device'," he joked.
George's theory was debunked after Angelina gave him a kiss on the cheek, glanced down, and whispered in his ear, "Is that a wand in your sporran, or are you just happy to see me?"
"Yes," George replied both cheekily and truthfully.
The Weasley twins walked their girlfriends to the side of the common room as Neville took his place at the base of the stairs. Everyone heard the usually quiet and private boy let out a soft whistle of appreciation as Luna walked to the top of the stairs. While Fleur and Angelina had opted for floor length gowns, Luna's blue and white Alice in Wonderland dress stopped midway between her knees and cute tush. Instead of dress shoes, the quirky girl was wearing a pair of purple rain boots with little yellow duckies printed on them.
Fleur smirked as she watched Neville lick his lips which had suddenly gone dry like his mouth. He was staring at Luna with an expression that spoke of tremendous, yet equal, amounts of love and lust. Fleur leaned over to the woman who she believed would one day be her sister-in-law, and said loud enough for Neville to hear, "I wonder which kink Groot is into - the Alice in Wonderland costume or the rain boots."
Angelina shrugged her shoulders. "Could be either or both. You know what they say about it always being the quiet ones. We could always ask him," she replied. "So which is it Nev, the sexy dress or the boots?" she asked while Luna was making her way down the stairs.
Neville was able to tear his eyes away from Luna to give Fleur and Angelina a quick wink while he answered, "I am Groot." The rest of the Marauders plus Angelina laughed along with Neville. The young man suddenly turned bright red as he remembered that Professor McGonagall was in the common room as well.
Letting her shy cub off the hook, McGonagall said, "Five points to Gryffindor for giving an appropriate answer to that question." This caused everyone to chuckle again.
When Luna finally reached the bottom of the stairs, she gladly took Neville's offered hand in hers. She was giving her boyfriend a look that mirrored his - equal parts love and lust. As Neville started to lead her away from the stairs, Luna paused, looked him up and down, and smiled widely. "How appropriate, we match!" she stated cheerfully. Neville's forehead creased in confusion. His confusion was echoed throughout the common room until Luna explained in a very matter of fact tone, "Neither of us are wearing underwear."
That thought made Neville very happy, but his smiled faded back to a confused look. "How did you know I wasn't wearing any underwear?" he inquired.
Showing why she was sorted into Ravenclaw, Luna replied, "I had two separate data points that indicated you weren't wearing any underwear. The first one is that you come from a very traditional family. Even though it might make you feel uncomfortable not to wear underwear, your traditional upbringing wouldn't let you even consider wearing the kilt in a non-traditional style."
Several people in the room nodded their heads in appreciation of Luna's logic. Professor Flitwick was especially proud of his little Eagle. "Well thought out, Ms. Lovegood. What is the second data point?" he asked.
"Neville is standing directly over a VERY well polished floor tile," Luna answered with a little shrug. Before they could step onto the carpet, Fleur and Angelina used the tiles to check to see if the twins were wearing their kilts in the traditional style and whether or not the boys really were identical in every way. Their high-five let everybody know that Fleur and Angelina were happy with the answer to both questions.
Harry replaced Neville at the base of the stairs. To him, the rest of the world faded away when the woman he loved with all of his heart took her place at the top of the stairs. Like the other female Marauders, Hermione had chosen a gown that spoke of her heritage. Fleur's dress was a traditional one made by her grandmother, while Luna wore her great, great grandmother's dress rather than the costume everyone thought it was. Hermione had thought long and hard on what to wear. The gown she chose had to not only reflect her muggle heritage, but drive Harry wild with desire as well. While deciding what to wear, her thoughts kept drifting to a movie she loved as a child and was her first real impression of a woman who could be strong and sexy at the same time. In homage to that movie, Hermione wore a floor length, strapless, red gown that sparkled like cut rubies. While most of the gown looked like it was painted on due to how tightly it hugged her curves, the bottom flowed freely thanks to the slit that ran up her left leg that stopped midway up her thigh. To finish off the glamorous look, Hermione also wore golden theater gloves that ran up to her elbows.
The only non-muggle thing Hermione wore was a plain iron torc with open ends bearing the ancient celtic rune for love. Flitwick and McGonagall recognized the torc immediately. They had seen Dorea wear it whenever she went to a formal event prior to her marriage with Charlus. They had last seen it around the neck of one Lily Evans after she finally decided that James had matured enough for her to accept his proposal of marriage.
The torc had been handed down from generation to generation in the Potter family. The first "Potter", Clitorias, had it made for his future wife as an engagement present. After that, the torc was given to the male heir's true love by his mother after the young couple acknowledged their love for each other. This continued all the way to the point where Dorea gave it to Lily, welcoming her into the family with open arms.
McGonagall wiped a lone tear from her eye as she wished that Lily had still been alive to pass the torc to Hermione. The old professor had no doubt in her heart that Lily would have loved Hermione, and been extremely proud to give the fellow muggle-born the ancient token of love as a way of accepting the young woman into the family. "Mr. Potter, how on Earth did you find that torc?" she inquired.
Harry forced his gaze away from his beautiful girlfriend to look at Professor McGonagall. "I didn't find it, Knutsack did. He found it while doing an inventory of the family vault," he replied.
Hermione joined Harry at the base of the stairs and slipped her hand into his. "There was a written note next to it instructing Knutsack to present it to whomever ended up being Harry's true love," she stated. "Knutsack gave it to me last week along with this note," Hermione said as she pulled a lovingly folded piece of parchment out of her right glove.
Without saying another word, Hermione passed the old note to Professor McGonagall who gently unfolded it to read it. She lowered the note so Professor Flitwick could read it when she recognized the handwriting of his favorite student.
To the woman my son has chosen to love,
My fervent prayer is that this letter will never have to be read and that I will be able to present you this torc in person, but the war is going poorly for our side. If you are reading this, then I am dead and this is the only way I can tell you what I feel.
I am aware of the "curse" Morgan Le Fey put on the Potters and as a mother, I couldn't be happier. Every mother believes that only the very best will ever be good enough for her baby boy. Thanks to Le Fey, I know that you fit that description.
Take care of my Harry, and know that wherever I am, I bless your pairing and eventual marriage into this crazy family.
With a mother-in-law's love,
Flitwick took the note and reverently folded it back up. As he handed it back to Hermione, he said, "I was going to ask if you knew what wearing that torc in public meant, but this letter clears that up. Just so you know, the older members of the Great Houses will recognize it and know it is essentially the same as an engagement ring. The Potter Heir has chosen the next Lady Potter."
Hermione squeezed Harry's hand to make sure he was still okay with her wearing the torc in public. Even after all of his encouragements, Hermione still had some self-doubt issues. "Fade, you are the woman I love and I couldn't be prouder to declare our love to the world," Harry reassured her. "The only thing I'm nervous about is telling your parents," he admitted in a slightly timid tone. Like Hermione, Harry also still harbored doubts about himself being worthy of her. Hermione used her free hand to stroke Harry's cheek.
Luna was still amazed that not only had she somehow found a wonderful boyfriend and future husband, but she also had a group of friends that were as close to her as family. Knowing that she always felt better after one of her friends said something to encourage her when she was feeling down, Luna decided to try and say something encouraging to her almost brother, Scorch. "Harry Potter, you are wonderful man and I am sure Hermione's parents are going to love you, just like she does," she told him. After a moment of thought, she added, " - Or at least in the same amount. It would probably be preferable that they not love you in the same way she does. That would make family get togethers somewhat awkward I would think," she joked causing the group to chuckle.
"On that disturbing thought, we should make our way to the Great Hall," McGonagall suggested, rolling her eyes.
Severus Snape sneered in contempt as he neared the seventh floor landing of the spiral staircase that led to the owlery. His sneer became more pronounced as as he saw Professors McGonagall and Flitwick presumably leading the Potter brat and his friends down to the great Hall and the Yule Ball. Potter and the insufferable know-it-all were the last in line. Seeing the small knife sticking out of the top of Potter's large black socks gave him an idea of how to put James Potter's spawn back in his place and show a little dominance over the other two Heads of Houses. Snape rushed down the stairs so he would be only a few feet away from Potter.
"Stop right there, Potter!" Snape bellowed. "Even a dunderhead like you should know that openly displaying a weapon at one of the Ministries most talked about events is in very poor taste for one of the Hogwarts Champions, even if it is the illegitimate one," he snarled. Giving Harry one of his very well practiced sneers (this one being used for stupid students and disgusting things found in the bottom of waste bins), Snape said, "I'll just confiscate that knife, and see you in detention for the next two weeks, Mr. Potter."
Snape started to reach forward to grab the knife, but stopped suddenly as he felt the sharp point of a wand pressed against his left testicle. The wand tip was vibrating with magic, and not the good kind he used after he was sure the door to his quarters had been locked. Thoughts of punishing and humiliating Potter fled as the pressure against his testicle increased just slightly.
Glancing down slowly, Snape saw the wand was held by Professor Flitwick. Part of the potions teacher's mind gibbered in terror as he realized he hadn't even seen the small part-goblin move. The same part of his mind was about to piss itself at the thought that with either a swish or a flick, he would be known as "One nut Severus" for the rest of his life. The rest of his mind seethed at the direct challenge to his manhood in more ways than one. "What is the meaning of this?!" Snape demanded.
"Shut up, Severus! I'm trying to save your life!" Flitwick snarled back. Snape made a show of glancing at where the wand was still thrust and then raised a questioning eyebrow. "Since you're English, and therefore most likely unaware of Scottish wizarding traditions, I had to stop you before you committed a deadly mistake."
Seeing that he had Snape's full attention, Flitwick continued speaking. "The Sgian-Dubh Mr. Potter is wearing belongs to the Head of the McGonagall Clan. Touching it without permission is a horrible insult. Trying to take it is an open declaration of blood feud, a tradition still allowed in Scotland. In case you have forgotten, Hogwarts is in Scotland," he explained.
"Blood feud…?" Snape asked in a non-challenging tone. The tip of Flitwick's wand was still poking him in the Snape family jewels.
"Yes, Severus, blood feud. If you had grabbed that Sgian-Dubh, members of Clan McGonagall would be honor bound to try and kill you," Flitwick stated. Snape looked up at the old Transfiguration teacher and gave a contemptuous sneer. There was no doubt in his mind that he could defeat her. Flitwick saw the sneer and gave a silent chuckle. "Also, the allied Clans and Houses would have the legal authority to join in the hunt as well," he added.
Neville stepped forward, still holding Luna's hand. Having friends like the Marauders, and the love of Luna, gave him the courage to face one of tormentors. "House Longbottom stands with Clan McGonagall, in all things," he said in a clear, steady voice.
"House Lovegood stands with Clan McGonagall, in all things," Luna added. Not knowing their true power, Snape rolled his eyes in contempt.
Not even having to to ask her future husband, Hermione said loudly, "House Potter stands with Clan McGonagall, in all things." Snape's confidence started to slip, if only a little bit. While he thought of Potter as a true dunderhead, the boy still had raw power. That power mixed with the know-it-all's intellect might possibly be a problem.
"Clan Weasley stands with Clan McGonagall, in all things," the twins said in unision.
"As does the House of Delacour," Fleur said formally. Snape's confidence took a major hit at those two declarations. The powers of a Veela were an unknown factor, and even though he hated to admit it, the red headed twins were very good at potions.
Seeing Snape's usually haughty sneer start to slip a bit, Flitwick went in for the metaphorical kill. "In the sense of the fairness, I should probably tell you that in questions of honor, Clan McGonagall does have a champion they can rely on. Their champion is a rather handsome chap who won the European Grand Dueling Championship four years in a row," he said with a very goblin like grin. To drive the point home even further, he gave Snape's threatened testicle another slight jab.
The part of Snape's mind that had been terrified earlier was now jumping up and down screaming, "See… I told you so!" to the rest of his mind. Now completely focused on self-preservation, Snape stood very still as Professor McGonagall casually walked up to Professor Flitwick and put her hand on the part-Goblin's shoulder.
Luna, who had been trained from birth to carefully observe everything around her, noticed Professor Flitwick's face become completely relaxed, including closing his eyes as Professor McGonagall touched his shoulder. Luna knew the two professors were in a relationship and she thought it was odd that Flitwick's face would go slack like that. Whenever Neville touched her, an odd spark combined of excitement and safety coursed through her. Luna assumed it would be the same for the older couple.
"Thank you for stopping him from making such a fatal mistake, Professor Flitwick," McGonagall stated. After a moment, she added, "As Deputy Headmistress, it would have fallen to me to find a replacement potions teacher midterm." Flitwick's eyes snapped open and he pulled his wand away from Snape's groin. Feeling the threatening wand gone, Snape pivoted and made his way back up the staircase. His robe billowed out even more than usual as he added quite a bit of speed to his usual pace.
Once they were certain Professor Snape was well and truly out earshot, the remaining Professors started laughing uncontrollably. They ended up having to hold on to each other to keep their balance, they were laughing so hard.
Hermione said the one thing that was on most of the Marauders' minds. "Huh?" she exclaimed, clearly confused.
"I think... Professors Flitwick and McGonagall just pranked Professor Snape," Harry replied, trusting his Marauder instincts.
It took a moment for Hermione to process that before she asked for clarification, "Do you mean the whole Blood Feud thing wasn't real?"
Flitwick stopped laughing and gave Hermione a sly smile. "Probably not, considering I just made it up," he answered.
This caused McGonagall to laugh even more. "Actually, you were surprisingly close to the actual traditions," she told him.
"I do not understand," Fleur said, her brows creased in confusion.
Suddenly becoming very excited, Flitwick started hopping up and down, clapping his hands. "Oh, I so love it when life gives us opportunities to teach advanced concepts based on what students experience outside of the classroom!" he stated happily. With one hand, he pointed to an unused classroom across from them. Sensing they had just been witness to pranking greatness, the twins opened up the door to the classroom and rushed inside.
Once everyone was inside, the Professors cast sound dampening charms at all four walls, the floor, and the ceiling. With a smile that matched Flitwick's, McGonagall conjured two stools for them to sit on while they gave this impromptu lesson.
"All right you lot, I'll tell you what the end result was, and then work backwards from there," Flitwick stated. "In a very short amount of time, Professor Snape is going to start experiencing a rather intense itching in his groin. This itching will only get worse over the next week and then level off. You see, Professor Snape's groin is now the new home to a rather sizeable colony of troll pubic lice. It is said that the itching from the lice can get so intense, Trolls are known to have smacked themselves in the groin with their massive clubs to get it to stop," he explained.
"That's true, and unfortunately for Professor Snape, troll pubic lice are just as magic resistant as the trolls they usually inhabit. All known magical ways of getting rid of lice are ineffective against them," McGonagall told them.
With another sly smile, Flitwick said, "Also, as far as the vast majority of the wizarding world knows, there is only one way to contract troll pubic lice - close, and rather intimate contact with a troll." This set the students into a fit of laughter at what others would suspect Snape had been doing with his free time.
After a moment, Hermione stopped laughing and looked thoughtful. "You said the itching would go on for at least a week. Everything I've read said that conjured lifeforms can not exist for longer than 24 hrs. How did you extend that timeframe so much?" she inquired.
"Ah, that takes us to the first part of the lesson," Flitwick said, rubbing his hands together. "Professor McGonagall, if you would please," he requested, bowing to her.
"Why thank you, Professor Flitwick," McGonagall replied. "What most people think of as conjuration is just very advanced transfiguration. Instead of creating something out of nothing, the spell caster is actually transfiguring air into something else. That's why there is usually a popping sound after it occurs, the remaining air rushes in to fill the newly created empty space," she lectured. "True conjuration is something else entirely and takes quite a bit more time preparing for it as well as power to cast the spell. When a witch or wizard casts a true conjuration, they are really teleporting a real object or creature from one place to another," she said.
"Somewhere there is a Troll who is suddenly enjoying an itch free crotch right now," Flitwick chimed in.
Even though they weren't in a formal class, George raised his hand to ask a question. When Flitwick nodded towards him, George inquired, "How did you manage to conjure the troll pubic lice if they are magic resistant?"
"Wonderful question, Mr. Weasley. That leads us into the second part of the lesson," Professor McGonagall praised.
"It would take a witch or wizard with magical strength similar to Merlin's to conjure the little blighters. However, two magical people working together would have more than enough power to accomplish it," Flitwick said.
Hermione nodded her head in understanding. "You two were able to combine your powers when Professor McGonagall touched your shoulder," she surmised. Flitwick echoed her nod with one of his own to show she was on the right track.
Being the more experienced in trying to get away with pranks, the twins each stroked their chins in thought. "We hate to admit it, but Professor Snape is pretty smart. Once he finds out what is causing his bludgers to itch, he'll suspect you two caused it," Fred stated.
Flitwick clapped his hands together once in glee. "And that brings us to the final part of this lesson- covering your tracks," he said. "It's true that Professor Snape will eventually figure out where his new tenants came from, but he won't have any evidence to back it up. While everyone would rightly assume Professor McGonagall is capable of true conjuration, it was my wand doing the poking. Most people know I'm absolutely horrible with any type of conjuration. In fact, a certain Transfiguration Mistress once suggested that I couldn't even conjure a fart at chile / curry festival," he stated.
"What is very rarely ever taught, is that if a witch or wizard trusts someone completely, they can open themselves up to allow the other one to cast through them. This automatically combines the strength of the two magic users," McGonagall told them.
The Marauders were quiet for a while as the implications of what she said sank in. Eventually Harry asked, "Even if he thought you couldn't do it, wouldn't he still insist on having your wand checked?" he asked.
"Very good, Mr. Potter. Five points to Gryffindor for thinking ahead for once," Professor McGonagall said half teasingly. "A regular Priori Incantatum spell will show the last ten spells that a wand has cast. If Professor Snape was somehow able to convince the Aurors that he had been wronged, they have spells that could show that last 30 spells cast," she told them.
"Anybody want to guess how many spells I cast a day as the Charms Professor, not to mention how many I cast every morning during my dueling practices?" Flitwick asked with a predatory smirk. "All right you lot, lesson over. Let's go get down to the ball to show off dance moves," he suggested.
I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who has stuck with this story. As a way of trying to make up for my very rare updates, I'm making my independent novel, "Gareth and the Lost Island", free on Smashwords. It's a Steampunk / Fantasy novel with humor similar to this story. Please enjoy the free book while I work on the next chapter for this story. To find the book, go to and search for either my name - Patrick Mallard, or the title of the book. Thanks again for being such wonderful readers.