The Detention

Dylan left her private lesson beside Hagrid's hut with Professor McGonagall feeling stiff and sore. She was to stroll around the school grounds for at least an hour, trying her legwork. It was odd getting used to walking on all fours, especially when they felt as if they were too long and even stranger was getting used to having a stubby tail. However, once she stopped fighting against the movement of her limbs and let them move naturally, it was much easier.

Suddenly her sensitive ears picked up the familiar voices of the Weasley twins. "Basically, they explode and that's it."

Dylan tried to ease around a thick growth of ferns and a large rock to listen better.

"One particular mixture consisting of sulphur, saltpeter or potassium nitrate, honey, and arsenic disulfide..." the one leaning on a tree trunk was reading from a very old book. "Color change – that could add a nice effect, don't you think? To create reds, greens, blues, and yellows by adding both a metallic salt such as strontium for red, barium for green, copper for blue, and sodium for yellow. Those are easy enough to get." He turned the page. "Until we can get the other stuff, we might as well work on the Whiz-Bangs. We need to make sure that they can't be dispersed of easily though."

"Not much fun, Filbuster's last a lot longer than that," the other stated, fiddling with a leaf. "But all we've managed is the basic explosion. I want them to go all night!"

"The fun will be finding out how he does it!" the one against the tree exclaimed. Dylan sniffed the air, detecting a faint scent of smoke, a woodsy musk and sweat emanating from them. She didn't think she smelled gunpowder. "We need to come up with Anti-Stunning and Anti-Vanishing Spells."

"Repeating spells maybe?" the other one asked.

The one leaning on the tree turned his head in her direction and Dylan remained very still so he wouldn't see her. "Repeating spells... that would be good one to try if we could infuse the base chemicals with charms..."

"The Engorging charm!" the one standing said excitedly. "Oh yeah, we could use replicating spells and the Engorgement charm. I remember having to copy those down last week."

The one leaning on the tree turned his attention on his brother nodding. "What does the book say about Greek fire and fireballs? Those apparently went for hours and couldn't be extinguished."

The one standing opened another book, balancing it on his one hand. "All we need to make it like Greek fire is to mix naphtha, niter, sulphur petroleum quicklime and saltpeter. Naphtha would be harder to get."

"Can we mix that with the gunpowder?" The other leaned forward to peer at the open book.

"Won't know until we try it!" the one holding the book said with a mischievous grin. He looked down to read from the book in his hand. "When fine aluminium powder was mixed proportionally with an oxidizer, the resulting mixture – flash powder – burns much hotter and faster than black powder, allowing for the manufacture of louder firecrackers and salutes in aerial fireworks. Nothing we didn't already try."

The one twin leaned back against the tree and placed the old book that he held closed back into his book bag. "So all we need is to order the chemicals we don't have in our trunks. The way I figure we should be able to make about two dozen."

"Shapes, we should make them into shapes!" the other one said, putting away his book. "I think we should make dragons."

"Ginny has always been partial to Catherine Wheels. We should consider them too."

Dylan pressed herself against the rock and lowered herself into the ferns for coverage as the twins moved away from her hiding spot. "Let's get the compound mix right – then we'll see if we can infuse the spells. After that we'll concentrate on shapes – unless you want to focus on shapes..."

They are going to make fireworks! she thought to herself as she watched them walk back toward the castle. I hope they do... Oh, I hope they do. She followed the twins as they walked back to the castle. Suddenly it dawned on her; Professor McGonagall is waiting for me at Professor Hagrid's hut. They will be seen leaving the Forbidden Forest.

Dylan turned quickly and dashed clumsily through the undergrowth to direct the attention of the two professors away from where the twins were likely to emerge. She heard the twins exclaim at the noise she made. She cried out as she tripped, running back out of the forest, and Professor Hagrid laughed loudly as he helped her up. "Ya still fightin' your legs, are ya?" he said. Dylan tried to respond, the feline growl belied the gratitude for his gentle assistance. His huge boarhound sniffed her and playfully nudged her to try running again.

"You must allow the natural movement of your legs," Professor McGonagall coached her. "Reach forward with both front paws, and then push with both hind paws. You cannot move your right leg, then your left as you would normally. Think of it as jumping. It'll come naturally in time and you'll appreciate surefooted balance and strength that you have."

Dylan nodded, turning to see the Weasley twins slip unnoticed between the greenhouses. "Try again, dear," Professor McGonagall encouraged. Her form shivered and reformed into a tabby cat. The subtle motions and sounds she made clearly said, "Now follow me. I'll show you."

~o0o~

"May I have your attention please," Professor McGonagall called out before everyone settled down at his or her desks. "Today you are going to work in pairs. You will be practicing both conjuring spells as well as color changing spells nonverbally. You will conjure a hat for your partner and then change its color." There were several snickers in the room. "The hat may be any style as long as it fits your partner and you are to achieve at least three colors." Dylan pulled out her book, turning to the page on conjuring articles of clothes, as Professor McGonagall appointed partners. "Miss Avondale, you will work with Mr. Fred Weasley," she said.

Dylan nodded turning to the twin closest to her. "So that means we are working together."

"Um, no – I'm George," he said, getting up from the desk.

Dylan picked up her book to move to the other end of the row and found both Fred and George standing together. "Are you Fred?" she asked touching the arm of the twin standing closer to her.

"No, I'm George," he said with a smirk.

Dylan turned to see where the other one had gotten to. When she turned back he was bending up from retrieving something off the floor. "Fred?" she asked. "I think I'm partnered with you."

He laughed and shook his head. "No, you just asked me. I'm George."

She was completely confused, she turned to see the other twin beside her, apparently Fred, talking with Alice Tumas, deciding who would go first.

"Mr. Weasley, stop fooling around and get started on the assignment," Professor McGonagall admonished them from the other side of the classroom.

Dylan turned back to him as he smiled down at her. "He is already working with someone. Is it all right if I just work with you, George?"

"Yes, you can work with me," he replied. "You want to go first?"

"Sure," she answered. She concentrated on a sensible hat and thought, "Inanimus-conjurus."

"You mumbled," he said laughing, making the nice brown derby vanish from his head. She tried again three times before she managed the spell nonverbally. However, with each try her frustration grew, and by the fourth hat it no longer resembled a bowler, but a squat version of a sombrero.

"Oh, very nice," he chided her. "I like this one." Shooting him a glare, she deftly changed the hat pink. "No, you didn't," he said, as she changed the hat to turquoise with a smile. "Oh, you are going to get yours," he warned her.

"Very nice, Miss Avondale," Professor McGonagall said, pleased. "Full marks. Now Mr. Fred Weasley, your turn." She turned to face the pair working beside them. "Mr. George Weasley, don't wave your wand like that. Nice smooth swish and a sharp flick."

Dylan looked up at him shocked. "You said you were George!"

"Never argue with the teacher," he said smirking, "Now hold still." He produced a wide brimmed stovetop hat that resembled a flowerpot, with the slightest movement of his lips. "Now since you like pink so much – how about glaring hot pink?"

She rolled her eyes as the hat changed a shocking shade of pink.

When Professor McGonagall passed by them again her hat changed again from a neon yellow to chartreuse. "Very – um, nice, Mr. Weasley, full marks. Now try a different style."

"Yes, very nice, bro," the other twin said watching them as Alice puffed her cheeks trying to change the crooked stovepipe on his head nonverbally.

"Thank you, yours, too," George said. "Careful, it looks like your partner is going to blow."

Dylan smiled as she produced a boater, with Gryffindor colors on the wide ribbon and he produced a multi-pointed jester's hat. She pulled it from her head as the other twin conjured a gabled hennins that slid off the back of her head. "Fred!" she admonished.

"No, I'm George," he corrected.

Dylan pointed her wand at him, then at her partner, her confused gaze switching from one to the other. "But you said you were George, and he says he's – which one are you?" she asked, aiming her wand at her partners chest.

He carefully pushed her wand away from the center of his chest. "George. Now you don't want to lose house points hexing a classmate, do you?"

"Mr. Fred Weasley, Miss Avondale, what is going on?" Professor McGonagall admonished from the center of the room. "George Wesley, return to your own partner and leave Mr. Weasley and Miss Avondale alone."

"Your pulling my leg, aren't you?" Dylan asked, having realized that he'd been playing with her.

Fred still held the tip of her wand, pointing it away from him. "No, I'm pulling your wand," he replied with a lazy drawl and a mischievous grin.

~o0o~

"But if we don't practice the spell, how on earth are we ever going to know if we can do it?" Dylan said harshly under her breath.

Unfortunately, Professor Toad heard her. "All you need is the theory on how to do it – practical application is simply a matter of will. On page two in the author's notes..." Professor Umbridge fallaciously explained in her sweet girlish twitter. "Practical application experimentation of any and all spell work..."

"Implies the use of one's ability to focus the determination of intent, the concentration of one's desire to achieve the desired result and the focus of one's will toward or in the direction of the wanted action," Dylan said, reciting the text perfectly from memory, chorused by the mumblings of several others in class. "However," she continued, "to simply put your will to your desire – is that enough? I mean if it's as simple as the will and the right word – well then even Muggles could do it."

Umbridge turned on her with a look of pure contempt. "Muggles cannot do magic! The Ministry of Magic is very well aware that if you understand the theory and the principles involved, then you will be able apply the principles should you ever need to. In regards to practical application..."

"The practical demonstration and exploration or execution and application of magic spells are to be handled in such a way that dovetails experimentation with concentration on delivery, execution and proficiency with acute awareness as to the spells form and exacting procedure and techniques..." Dylan rambled off remembering the letter she'd received from the Ministry over the summer. "I believe that was what the letter stated from Mr. Hopkin's, in the Improper Use of Magic office."

Professor Umbridge's face fell as she remembered very well Hopkin's form lettet that had been owled to students who experimented with unauthorized spells, emphasizing that students were not to practice spells that were not listed on the approved homework assignment lists this last summer. "Ridiculous," she snapped.

"I believe that one is for Boggarts, Professor," someone piped up from behind her, making several in the class laugh.

"Professor Lupin taught us that, two years ago," someone else added promptly from the other side of the room. Suddenly there erupted a lot of snickering in the classroom.

Obviously no one in class is taking Professor Toad seriously, Dylan thought, fuming quietly to herself. Pity. If it hadn't been for my brother's books, lecture notes and study journals from his N.E.W.T. year with Professor Lupin – not one Ravenclaw seventh year would be passing Defense Against the Dark Arts this year.

Umbridge's attention was focused on Dylan so she obviously didn't catch who made the comments. "Miss Glass, if I want your input I'll ask for it," she snapped at Dylan's best friend, Mary Ellen, sitting next to her. Mary Ellen went pale and crossed her fingers under the desk. "Besides that... that – werewolf – had no business being a teacher," she said, trying to regain her sticky sweet tone once more.

Dylan was outraged. "He was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher Hogwarts has ever had!" Oops, now I've done it... the smile on the professor's face disappeared and was replaced with a wide toothy grin that reminded her of a grindylow.

"Detention for the rest of the week, Miss Avondale!" Professor Umbridge's face fell into a sagging sneer. "You will learn that the Ministry of Magic's approved way of teaching is more than sufficient..."

Thank the gods, Flitwick didn't consider the Toad a real professor either. So far all seventh year Ravenclaws had regular detentions for 'discourtesy and disrespecting a Ministry approved professor' and 'disdainful and impudent disregard toward the carefully structured, theory-centered, Ministry-approved course of defensive magic.' In other words – we were all rude. "At least, when Professor Lupin taught this class, we were all prepared well enough to pass our exams! All of us here received our O.W.L.s thanks to HIM! I don't believe that can be said for your way of teaching."

"Dylan!" Mary Ellen nearly screamed at her, jabbing her hard in the side.

Uh... oh... She's so mad now; she's actually bouncing... Dylan thought ruefully. "But this is our N.E.W.T. year, we are supposed to be learning the advanced defenses to Dark Magic. Surely the Ministry..."

"I am a Ministry approved instructor, I'm appointed by the Ministry, with the full confidence of the Ministry, and I'm placed here by the Ministry, with the authority of the Ministry... I – this – is – a – theological – to – to" the Toad stammered, obviously frustrated and angry. "To teach up the correct principles of proper defensive magical techniques..."

"Ah, yes – the techniques!" Dylan said, forcibly calm. "The manner and ability with which a spell is performed... the systematic procedure by which a specific task or spell is accomplished... A way in which the fundamentals are handled by the performing practitioner...the application of skill or the command of handling such fundamentals..." Dylan quoted the book by memory.

"Dylan, don't..." Mary Ellen pleaded.

Professor Umbridge's face contorted with anger. Her voice completely lost that little girl manner. "One week of detentions, Miss Avondale!" Dylan refused to look at her. "Now," she continued, trying to resume that irritable girlish twitter, "finish your reading assignment."

Ooh, that insufferable – know nothing – irritating... Toad! She fumed, glaring at the front of the room rather than directly at Umbridge. I've read this book – twice! She couldn't wait until the end of class. She simply stared ahead, trying to figure out how she could slip a tadlowog into Umbridge's water glass on her desk without getting caught.

Dylan and Mary Ellen walked out of class both fuming and for different reasons. It was just another Defense Against the Dark Arts class where all they did was read that insipid... stupid book!

"How in the Hades are we going to pass our N.E.W.T.s if we don't do any practical lessons?" Roseanne fumed.

"Can you believe that she said all we have to do to avoid a Dementor is to duck?" Dylan hitched her book bag up on her shoulder. "Or that we don't need to worry about Boggarts, because they cannot actually hurt us... All we have to do is face our fear and it will go away!"

"At least you have a brother that received Outstanding on his N.E.W.T.s in Defense Against the Dark Arts!" Mary Ellen whispered so that only Dylan could hear her. "If it weren't for his letters – we would all be sunk!"

"Let's just hope she never finds out that the detentions in Flitwick's office," Dylan answered, then lowered her voice to a whisper as the corridor became crowded, "are really for us to practice! He'd be fired."

"So what did you little Ravenclaws do to get a detention?" It was the Weasley twins again. At least they didn't see my performance today. I just bet they would have loved hearing my outburst. How could I be so stupid? You've got to hold your tongue, girl.

"Something naughty," one of them said over her shoulder.

"Or something fun?" the other asked, leaning a bit over her other shoulder.

Mary Ellen stopped and turned to confront them. "She spoke up in class and pissed off the Toad," she hissed. "Professor Flitwick said 'any more outbursts and it is detention' with him – again! Right?"

Hey, they were not in class today? What happened, did they skive her off? No! Dylan first looked at one, then the other. Did they? "I don't suppose you have anything or anyway to get someone out of detention with her?"

"Might," they chorused.

"Ooh... go – it's her – she's coming this way," Mary Ellen said, grabbing Dylan's arm. They scattered in different directions.

Turned out, that as Dylan entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, both Fred and George were already sitting at a long table draped with a lace edged runner. There were three extremely erect high-backed chairs, the one on the end obviously hers. She smiled timidly at the twins noticing that one looked pasty and sweaty, possibly with a high-grade fever and the other was vomiting into a bucket. "Take your seat, Miss Avondale," the Toad said, indicating a desk where a quill laid, waiting. "You know what I want you to write."

Her seat was next to... Oh, give it up Dylan. You'll never figure out which is which. "I will not speak out the truth?" Dylan mumbled as she sat down. Umbridge's face fell again, as she glared at her. Both Fred and George stifled back laughter. This is going to be fun... she thought sarcastically. Just you wait, Toad. I will get even – somehow. "I know, I will not tell lies, right?"

"That will do nicely, although, I have serious doubts as to whether or not you will ever be anything more than a liar," she said, her mouth stretched in a smile that so obviously resembled a grindylow – just before it took a bite out of you.

Dylan had been bitten by one while wading in the lake, and had it not been for the two sitting in the chairs next to me... well, best not think about that right now. Dylan sat down in the uncomfortable chair without comment. Even explaining to Professor Flitwick about the rescue, I managed to completely biff which one did what, and I was constantly corrected each time by one – or the other Weasley during my reiteration. Whenever I said, 'George did...' or 'Fred did...' they corrected me... and in the end Professor Flitwick had been laughing so hard that he gave them twenty points – each! Twice! Still, it's nice to know that saving me was at least worth eighty points, even if it did go to Gryffindor.

Dylan sneaked a sly peek over at Fred and George as they did their lines. One of them, the one on the end, looked up and grinned at her, but she couldn't tell which one. He winked and flashed a friendly smile before the footsteps of the Toad made them both turn back to their papers. Out of the two of them, George seems the nicer, unless that one's Fred – no... I'm sure it was George. The one sitting next to her tapped her foot in a friendly gesture and gave her a discreet thumbs-up. Well at least I have their approval.

Minutes passed and the twin on the end heaved again in his bucket. Professor Umbridge snapped at him to clean it up, but he just replied that she had warned him not to bring his wand to detention. The Toad stomped her foot and said he was throwing up on purpose! Who in their right mind throws up on purpose? Well, except for Denitia, but she's obsessed with her weight. It's not something a normal guy would do! Besides why doesn't she just 'Scourgify' and be done with it? Can't the Toad even do a simple spell?

"Professor, maybe you would like me to, um – you know, clean it up for him?" she asked after a half hour or so.

Professor Umbridge looked at George, or Fred – and chuckled. "Sure honey, why don't you clean up after the boy?"

Dylan got up, walked around the Toad to reach his bucket and deftly flick away the contents. "Thanks," he whispered before he heaved again.

"No problem," she said. A few minutes later she was rising and walking over to his side of the table, looking at him concerned. She flicked her wand wiping the bucket clean again. "Are you all right? You should be in the hospital wing, both of you." They really are sick. Neither one looks well at all. How can she be so cruel?

He looked up at her with a wry grin. "It's something we ate to skive off her class. It worked so well then, but I suppose she isn't buying it now." He winked at her and she looked up at the other twin, startled as he winked too.

Umbridge glared at her. "Miss Avondale, return to your seat and finish your lines, please."

"One of these days I'm going to... oh, when I get the... you just wait..." Dylan mumbled as she took her seat.

"Mind if I help?" the twin sitting next to her asked as she resumed writing.

She froze. What did he say... would he really? They're supposed to be the best pranksters Hogwarts has ever had... some of their pranks were the best she'd ever seen... he would help?

"Mr. Weasley!" Umbridge shrieked, "Your lines – now!"

Finally the cut lines on Dylan's hand began to bleed. She blotted her hand off with the lace doily and noticed that her action brought a scowl on the Toad's face. "Miss Avondale, you may leave. Clean up Weasley's bucket before you go." Dylan didn't need to be asked twice.

Just as Dylan was walking out the door, Fred – or it could be George, heaved once more, but this time he completely missed the bucket and threw up all over the floor. Exacerbated, the Toad let both boys go, but demanded Madam Pomfrey sign a note to be brought to her office by morning or they would have detention again. Dylan waited in the corridor for them to appear, but when they did, they quickly ran off down the corridor in the opposite direction – away from her. She sighed heavily, the way they're running I'd never catch up... well, there is tomorrow...

~o0o~

Dylan waited in the Great Hall the next morning trying to get one of the twins, hopefully the one that offered to help her, alone. No such luck. Immediately after breakfast they ran off with two other Gryffindors.

She saw Fred and George in the library later that day, but as usual there was their friend, Lee, and housemate, Kenneth, with them. Once when she looked up to check over a list of possible uses for Giant Tenecula sap, one of the twins waved at her. He made a simple-thumb up motion and mouthed, 'Thank you.' Dylan looked behind her to see if he meant her, but saw no one there. She turned back and mouthed, 'You're welcome,' confused as to what she'd done for him. He laughed silently, shaking his head.

She lingered near the bookshelves waiting to see if they ever separated and was about to give up when she noticed the twin that had laughed at her, accidentally dropped a sheet of parchment as they left. Flicking her wand she quickly retrieved the parchment. It is a list: oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, bicarbonate, calcium, carbon, phosphorous, and sulphur, are not crossed off. Neither are brackish and salt water, mire, fog or steam? Judging by the amounts written down they are planning something big! Dylan got an idea. She hastily drafted a note to her dad, and ran to the owlery.

At dinner her owl returned. Dylan scanned down her dad's letter and smiled. He didn't even ask why she wanted the elements she'd requested, but as usual he was just so happy that she asked him and that he could help her out. He always felt so awkward about Mum's and my magic. But whenever I needed to ask him for anything he is always so pleased that I do turn to him, he goes out of his way to help me. She quickly wrote down the date for the next Hogsmeade weekend and told her parents to meet her at the station. Dad loves Hogsmeade. Mum will dress him up in robes and escort him around, holding onto his arm... it is really sweet to watch them together. Mary Ellen will of course want to see my parents again, but I can trust her to keep quiet. I'll just tell her it's to get back at the Toad.

~***~

Author's note:

I hope by now you can tell that Fred and George like messing around with Dylan, and no matter which name she uses, they always correct her saying 'no, not Fred – George,' or visa-versa, implying that she called them by the wrong name, simply to tease her. I love writing about the twins, and really think that they would do this just because they can... smart-alecks that they are.

The hennin or sometimes called a hennins is a headdress in the shape of a cone or "steeple", or a truncated cone worn by European women of the nobility in the 15th century. Very often princesses in illustrations for fairytales commonly wear this style of headdress.

I want to thank Lumiere, Musci5 and Notsosaintly for their time and efforts in helping me shape this story up into something readable.