As the final Quidditch match of the year approached, tensions between the four Hogwarts Houses were at their record high. Slytherins had been caught jinxing the Gryffindor team's broom handle polish with slugslime, while the Gryffindors (largely understood to mean the Weasley twins) had retaliated by duping the House Elves on Slytherin laundry duty into using itching potion instead of Gilderoy Lockhart’s Reusable Robe Cleanser, and a group of Ravenclaw sixth years had even been accused of cheating on exams.
…and just yesterday, Parvati Patil swore she heard that Hannah Abbott said that Susan Bones saw Ernie Macmillion snapping at Zacharias Smith during Herbology of all places. Even friendly Hufflepuff it seemed was not immune.
But nowhere was this end of year battle as obvious as Professor Binns’ Fifth Year Gryffindor/Slytherin dual History of Magic. It was here two Prefects fought the closest thing to a Wizard’s duel without wands one could get away with on the Hogwarts grounds without Filch or Mrs. Norris showing up and spoiling everything. With the big game, Quidditch Cup, and House Cup looming, tempers were high and breaths were bated.
So it was at three o’clock sharp on a balmy Friday afternoon in May when a gracile figure glad in green and black stumbled over a rather short—albeit stocky—figure decked out in Gryffindor red, with wild, wooly, tangled hair and a beard to envy Hagrid’s.
“Mahal-damnit, Greenleaf!” the Gryffindor shouted, repairing a broken inkwell. “Watch where you’re going!”
“Easy, Gloinul,” the Slytherin said, studying his painted nails with a sly smile. “Gryffindorks are meant to be brave, not blustering.”
“Blustering-?!” Gimli Gloinul turned—if such a thing were possible—even redder. “You leaf-loving, long-legged—“
“Disrespecting a prefect?” a blonde eyebrow arched. “A fellow prefect? One point from Gryffindor!”
“Assaulting a prefect? Two points from Slytherin!”
“Assault—? I didn’t see you you lying little—“
“Ha! Disrespect! Four points from Slytherin!”
“Five points from Gryffindor for being a such a pain in my ass!”
“Six points from Slytherin for being a pointy eared ponce with a stick in his arse!”
“Seven points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable ginger prick,” Legolas sniffed.
And so it continued for the better portion of two hours. But when Professor Cuthbert Binns found his incredibly intriguing lecture on the Great Goblin Uprising of 1776 and the feats of Gôr the Incorrigible and Rôr the Irascible interrupted by a shout of “FORTY-TWO POINTS FROM SLYTHERIN, YOU SMUG, LEAF-EATING SON OF A —!” well, he had no choice but to intervene.
“Enough, Greenweed, Gimpy!” he surveyed the shocked class with unease, spying for the offending culprits. There they were, prefect badges and striped scarves. “Ten points from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw for classroom disruption, and detention in my office this Saturday. Now as I was saying, then Grôr son of Gôr and Rôr son of Rôr continued their fathers’ disputes concerning deep sea mineral rights—“
“But Professor Binns, that’s the final Quidditch match of the year!” Gimli Gloinul wailed. “And I’m a Beater! You can’t!”
“A Quidditch match? Is that all you care about?” Legolas Greenleaf yelped. “I’m a prefect—I’ve never been to detention before! Professor Binns, please!”
But a ghost, once (and only if) he has made his mind up, is not so easily dissuaded.
Naturally, by evening, word had spread around the school. Gryffindor’s Beater and Slytherin’s Seeker would not be joining their respective teams on the field. And, naturally, by evening, tales of their exploits had grown from mere verbal sparring to an all-out war culminating in Aurors, arrests, and the usual ‘Sirius Black with polyjuice potion!’ rumors that the Quibbler readers were all rather fond of.
As to be expected, this was the version told in the Gryffindor Common Room that Hermione Jean Granger was trying desperately to study to and through, as she did both her own, Harry’s, and Ron Weasley’s homework.
Ron was playing Wizarding chess by the fire. Harry was losing as usual.
“…and then Binns took 10 points from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw!“
“What?” Hermione looked up from her Potions essay (twenty-seven inches) sharply.
“Binns took points from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw,” Ron repeated with a shrug. “Wood says that’s the first time he’s actually interacted with students since like, before he even died!”
“But Gimli Gloinul is one of our Prefects. And Greenleaf is from Slytherin,” she argued.
“I—oh,” Harry frowned, both at Hermione and his sudden loss of his last knight. “Well, that doesn’t make any sense at all.”
“Then why are the Weasley twins laughing?” Hermione frowned.
“It’s a Slythendor classic,” Fred explained.
“With a dash of ‘ye old bait and switch scarves’,” George sighed fondly. “They’re keeping both of their Houses in the running despite their disloyalty. Bless.”
“A Slythendor classic? What’s that?” Ron butted in.
“We’ll tell you when you’re older.”
“You mean they went to detention on purpose?” Harry wondered out loud.
“On the last Quidditch game?” Ron cried. “But that’s mental!”
“Yes, why on earth would a blood purist Slytherin and a muggleborn Gryffindor choose to spend an entire evening locked away together in Binns’ abandoned fourth floor classroom instead of bludgeoning each other on the field while the entire school is out watching Quidditch leaving absolutely no witnesses. Any ideas, George?”
“None at all, Fred.”
“But—“
“But what?” the twins asked together.
“Why would they? Unless—“ Hermione’s freckled brown cheeks turned suddenly pink.
“What?” Ron demanded. “What’s going on.”
“Nothing,” Hermione said faintly. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”
“And if anyone is looking for me and Angelina, we’ll be studying the History of Magic together later,” Fred yawned and stood. “Good night.”