Harry Potter and the Skirt of Doom

"He never gives up, does he?" Ron shook his head in amazement. Harry
followed diredirection of Ron's gaze.

Three table over, in the huge dining hall, Draco Malfoy snickered as yet another
small fire bolt flew from the end of his wand, sending the white rat flying into the air.
Harry could have sworn he saw it shake an angry little rat fist at the boy, amid plumes of
smoke from the singed fur of its hind quarters.

Crabbed and Goyle cackled heartily when Draco blasted the poor creature again.
Two of the Slytherin girls shrieked as the, cl, clutching its flame engulfed tail, frantically
dove into the pitcher of water in the centre fo the table. This time there was no
mistaking the rather rude paw gesture it made in Draco's direction.

"It's like he doesn't even care," Ron's red eyebrows drew together.

"Well, if MY father was on the front page of The Daily Prophet because he'd been
missing for four days, I"D care!"

Seamus grinned down at his own copy of the Daily Prophet, a feather quill pen in
his hand. Indeed, Lucius Malfoy was on the front page, though at the moment, he was
busy trying to wipe away an ink moustache.

"I don't know, if I were Draco, I"d be worried," Oliver Wood replied. "The
Slytherin quidditch team might actually have to rely on talent to win a match without
Daddy's financial endowments."

Colin Creevey leapt up from the Gryffindor table, flashbulb flaring as he snapped
a picture of a drenched white rat squelching its way out the door.

Students and teachers alike had learned early on that the offensive camera had a
possessive charm on it. They'd buried it in Hagrid's flaming squibble patch, thrown it
into the Murky Moat, and even owled it to Oozlebekistan, but the next time they saw
Colin, it was hanging in its usual spot around his neck. The dirt encrusted lense, algae
covered strap aostaostage stamps still mystified Colin.

At that moment, Ginny Weasley bustled up to their table, Crookshanks tucked
safely under one arm.

"Is everything alright, Ginny?" Harry asked with concern.

"Yes," Ginny blushed at Harry. "Professor Dumbledore floo'd Hermione and her
parents out a couple of minutes ago."

"Tough spot of luck for Hermione." Neville Longbottom tsked in sympathy.

Just that morning, Professor McGonnagall had come to collect Hermione in
response to an urgent owl. Hermione's grandfather on her mother's side had passed
away. Ginny had helped her pack a quick bag, and promised to mind Crookshanks until
her return.

"Too bad, really," Fred Weasley said. George fairly vibrated with excitement.
"We've got a smash of a surprise planned for tonight."

Ron frowned. "I don't know if we should be partying, since Hermione's grand-dad
died. She was pretty upset."

"Ron," George sighed, "Halloween only come 'round oa yea year, and Hermione
wouldn't want you moping around. She'd want you to go and enjoy yourself."

Harry's eyes squinted as he looked at the too innocent twins. "You just want a
stool pigeon for ylatelatest prank."

The twins eyes widened dramatically. "We're just looking out for the emotional
welfare of our baby brother."

"Ah, just like the time you put a reversal spell on his broom," Oliver replied.

"And when you slipped sneezing beans into his chili," Neville offered.

"And the curse capsule you told him was actually a Cranio Capsule, guaranteed
to help him ace his amalgus exam!" Colin supplied with glee.

Ron scowled. "It was over a week before I stopped howling every time someone
said 'book'."

"But think of the future, Ron. The big picture! You'll be one of the founding
members of the greatest joke shop in all of the Wizarding world." Fred grinned.

"And if that doesn't help," George continued, "think of the royalties."

"That is, if you're not dead, cursed into some weird animal, or a raving lunatic by
then," Harry replied dryly when he saw the possibilities forming in Ron's blue eyes.

The twins shifted in their seats, guilt on their faces. Oliver grinned before
speaking.

"So, have you decided on a costume for tonight, Harry?"

Harry frowned and shook his head. "No, I haven't really thought much about it."

"This year's theme seems really exciting," Seamus replied, busy adding some
arched inky eyebrows to the now thoroughly irritated photograph of Lucius Malfoy.

"I know!" Colin bubbled with fervor. "The most fearsome, loathful creature in
either the Muggle or Wizard world. The possibilities are endless!"

"Speaking of creatures, there's Professor Slymewell." Ron shuddered as he
spotted the nasty teacher slither in to the room.

"I wonder why all the professors of the Dark Arts all have to be so creepy?" Colin
frowned.

"Professor Quirrell wasn't creepy," Neville said.

Oliver snorted. "No, he was just possessed by you-know-who."

Neville flushed with embarrassment. "Oh, right. Sorry," he said, casting Harry an
apologetic glance.

Oliver too, looked over to Harry and saw him shifting nervously on the bench
seat. "What's wrong, Harry?"

Harry frowned. "I'm not sure, but Professor Slymewell's been staring at me rather
oddly this last couple of days in class."

"Like he's doing right now," Ron muttered. The others turned to find the
professor indeed staring at Harry, his pale, skeletal face split in a knowing, sickly grin.

Neville gulped. "You don't suppose HE'S in league with ... well, you know?"

"I doubt it," Ginny replied. "Voldemort's not dumb enough to try the same thing
twice."

"Well, whatever it is, I wish he would leave me alone." Harry grimaced, turning
his back to the man.

"But Harry, you're famous!" Colin chirped. "You should be used to people staring
at you."

"Yeah," Ron scowled, "but this guy's creepier, in a stalker kind of way."

"Well, I wouldn't worry about it too much," George said, rising from his seat. "Old
Dumbledore is on his guard and keeps a pretty close eye on our Harry nowadays.
C'mon Fred, let's go work on our costumes for tonight."

"That's a good idea," Oliver agreed, rising as well. "I'll see the rest of you later
tonight. It's going to be a night we'll never forget!"

But Harry couldn't shake the ominous feeling that had settled in the pit of his
stomach. Something was brewing and he knew it was only a matter of time before it
would be revealed. He had no idea of how prophetic Oliver's last worouldould become.