Balloon Wars

Author's note: Written with help from BigDog

~ * ~

The Gryffindor Quidditch team was in high spirits as they strolled towards the locker rooms before the match against Slytherin, although their boisterous laughter was tinged with trepidation at having to face their rivals with only one veteran on the team.

“I don’t see why McGonagall won’t let you play,” Ginny complained as she and Harry trailed slightly behind the remainder of the team. “It’s not like there’s ever been an eighth year before, so she could have allowed you to play… and Ron.” Ginny added her brother’s name as an afterthought. While Ron’s Keeping had been extraordinary at times, the only thing consistent about his playing had been his inconsistency.

“You’ll do fine, Ginny,” Harry replied, trying to keep his own disappointment at being kept off the team from his tone. “Besides, Slytherin doesn’t have any returning players, so you have the advantage.”

Ginny gave Harry a half-hearted grin. “It was almost worth it when Malfoy found out he couldn’t play either. For a moment, I thought he was going to hex McGonagall right there in the Great Hall.”

Ron, who was walking just ahead of he pair, turned with a barking laugh. “Wish he would have tried it, then we wouldn’t have to see his ferrety face in classes every day.”

Harry laughed along with the others, though his heart was hardly in it. He had to remind himself that his time for playing Quidditch was past and he could hardly begrudge Ginny her chance to play.

“Wish me luck?” Ginny asked Harry as the group approached the door to the Gryffindor locker rooms.

Pushing his jealousy aside, Harry was about to respond with the requested blessing, when several loud pops sounded above their heads and the Gryffindors were drenched with a watery green substance that smelled faintly of apple.

“What the hell…?” Ron sputtered as he glanced frantically around at his fellow Gryffindors to see if anyone was hurt. Everyone appeared to be fine, except for wet hair and robes.

Ginny grimaced as she examined her soggy robes, but at least they hadn’t changed into their uniforms yet. Looking up, she gave a startled gasp as she stared first at Harry then at Ron. “Your hair’s turning green,” she said haltingly. Then she grabbed her own hair, gave a small shriek and ran into the locker room. Two other team members followed with panic stricken faces.

“She’s right, your hair is turning green,” Ron said as he and Harry exchanged glances. “Is mine…?”

Harry nodded grimly and then said one word, “Slytherin.”

“Are you all right?” Hermione asked breathlessly as she ran up. “I saw the balloons floating above the locker room, but didn’t have time to warn you before…” She paused uncertainly as Harry’s dark glare raked the area for some sign of the perpetrator. “Are you alright?”

“We’re fine,” Harry said with a frustrated groan and then motioned toward his hair. “I don’t suppose you’d know how to change our hair back?”

Hermione pursed her lips in thought as the remainder of the green-haired Gryffindor team watched hopefully. She tried a few spells to counteract the potion that had been in the balloons, but none had any effect. She then tried simply changing the color to something else, but that proved futile as well. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to fix this without some research,” she finally admitted.

“Why, Potter, it appears that you’ve decided to support the better team after all.”

Harry turned sharply at the familiar drawled tone. “You’ve had your laugh, Malfoy, now undo this.”

Draco crossed his arms over his chest as he stood slightly ahead of the Slytherin team. “But green is definitely your color, Potter.” Malfoy protested with wide-eyed innocence. “It matches your eyes.”

Several chortles from the Slytherin team followed Draco’s comment.

“Fix this, Malfoy,” Harry growled as he took a step toward the smirking Slytherin.

“While I appreciate your faith in my substantial abilities, it would take some time to find a counter to whatever potion you’ve been exposed to. I wouldn’t want to miss seeing my house win their first match of the season,” Malfoy replied.

Hermione grabbed Ron’s arm when it appeared he would do something rash, like punch the arrogant Slytherin in the face. Harry merely narrowed his eyes in anger.

“You know what the potion was. Who else would turn the Gryffindor team green except Slytherins,” Ron growled. There was a rumble of agreement from the gathered Gryffindors.

“I suppose you have proof of these slanderous accusations?” Malfoy asked with one brow raised. The Slytherin team mirrored their leader’s smirk with varying degrees of success.

“You’ll get yours, Malfoy,” Harry promised. “Green hair isn’t going to stop Gryffindor from wiping the pitch with your team.”

Ginny chose that moment to reappear and, seeing the Slytherins present, reached for her wand intending to hex each and every one of them.

“Ginny, don’t!” Hermione cried, still hanging onto Ron’s arm to keep him from doing what his sister clearly intended to do.

Seeing the situation escalating out of control, and not wanting the Gryffindor seeker to be banned from the game, Harry turned and grabbed Ginny’s wand before she could utter the curse that would land her in trouble.

“What seems to be the problem here?” Madam Hooch cried as she bustled up to where the two teams stood, wands in hand. “The game is about to start and you haven’t your uniforms on yet. Go on with you now.”

Muttering dark promises of what was to come, the Gryffindor team turned to enter their locker room while the Slytherins proceeded on to theirs. Malfoy waited until the remainder of the Slytherins had passed before he sauntered past the fuming Harry and Ron, smirk firmly in place.

“They’re going to pay for this,” Ron growled as soon as Madam Hooch was out of earshot.

“You don’t know it was the Slytherins,” Hermione replied in an attempt to calm her ruffled boyfriend.

“Oh? You think Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff would turn our team’s hair green just before the big match with those snakes?” Ron asked in exasperation. There were times when even the brightest witch of their year could be incredibly dense.

Hermione sighed in defeat as Harry and Ron continued to complain and mutter threats against the Slytherins, but she did manage to guide them to the stands where the remainder of their house waited.

“I saw what happened,” Seamus Finnegan said as the trio took a seat behind him. “What are we going to do about it?”

As they waited for the game to start, Harry, Ron and Seamus began bandying ideas of the perfect trick to play in retaliation. Hermione pulled a book from her ever-present book bag and tried her best to tune them out. She seriously hoped that they forgot their plans as some of their more far-fetched ideas were sure to land them in detention. Fortunately, the start of the game put an end to the plotting and Hermione put away her book with a sigh of relief.

 

~ * ~
 

“Please tell me you’re not going through with this,” Hermione pleaded as Harry, Ron and several members of the Gryffindor team gathered up the multi-colored balloons that were stacked on the common room table. “You’ll get detention for sure.”

“No one did anything to Slytherin when they turned our hair green,” Ginny said with a malicious grin.

“No one actually saw Slytherin do anything,” Hermione reminded.

“No one will see us either,” Ron said. “The Slytherins are on the pitch practicing. All we have to do is put a glamour on the balloons so that they look like bludgers or quaffles and send them out to the field.”

“Even if we are caught, it would be worth a couple of detentions to get those prats back,” Harry said.

Hermione shook her head, but knew there was nothing she could do to dissuade them. Hopefully, this would be the end of the matter.

“So what does this potion do?” Hermione asked. “Nothing harmful, I hope.”

“Naw,” Ron replied, “not that they don’t deserve it though.”

“You can just wait and see like everyone else,” Ginny replied with a smug grin. The potion had been her creation and she was rightfully proud of it.

Hermione watched with resigned trepidation as the Gryffindors made their way from the common room, laughing loudly as they exchanged visions of how the Slytherins were going to react. She briefly debated following them, but decided that she needed to remain firm in her stand against perpetuating pranks. Instead, she gathered up her books and headed for the library, the one place that would grant her a bit of tranquility.

It was several hours later that Hermione abandoned her studies to join the others for lunch in the Great Hall. On entering, she first looked towards the Gryffindor table where the pranksters sat snickering openly as they cast glances across the room at the Slytherin table. Steeling herself for the inevitable, Hermione’s gaze darted to where their rivals sat in glowering silence. She blinked a few times to make sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her and then clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the giggle that threatened to erupt. The entire Slytherin Quidditch team had colored noses. Not just colored – no – but bright, shining colors that flashed and changed, lighting the person’s face with an unnatural glow.

Glancing up at the Head table where the professors sat, Hermione noticed several not-quite suppressed smiles, and relaxed. Gryffindor’s revenge was complete.

 

~ * ~
 

Professor Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, strode through the school hallway with half her mind still on the argument she’d just had with the Board of Directors. If only those dolts would let her run the school instead of inserting their noses where they had no business being. She had a no idea how Albus had managed to keep his calm disposition in the face of such blatant idiocy.

Sweeping into the Great Hall for breakfast, the professor was halfway to the head table before she noticed that it was unusually quiet. A quick glance around brought her up short as her gaze fell on the students of her former house. Redirecting her stride, McGonagall stopped next to a student whose face was as red as a candy apple with what appeared to be white snowflakes floating slowly down his face.

“Would someone kindly explain the reason several of my students are attempting to impersonate Christmas wrapping paper?” she asked in her clipped brogue.

The Gryffindors, known for their bravery, exchanged uneasy glances and then stared resolutely at their plates.

“Ms. Granger?” McGonagall snapped, staring at her star pupil’s yellow and purple striped face. She blinked rapidly in consternation when the stripes began to shift direction.

Hermione gave a heavy sigh and then faced the Headmistress. “It’s nothing, Professor. Just a potion mishap,” she said with a slight flinch.

“I see,” McGonagall replied in tone that indicated she saw much more than her students were giving away. “I trust that the skin discoloration is the only effect of this mishap?”

“Yes, Professor,” Hermione replied while several other students nodded in agreement. So far the professors had ignored the pranks the student’s had been perpetuating. As long as no one was injured, the students hoped it would stay that way.

“Very well,” McGonagall said, trying not to stare at a young girl who was slowly changing from green with purple diamonds to pink with blue polka dots. “I expect that you will all be more careful in the future.”

“Of course, professor,” Hermione replied sincerely.

As soon as the professor had resumed her walk to the head table, Ron glared at the Slytherin table and hissed, “You know we’ll have to get them back.”

There were nods of agreement from those who had heard Ron’s comment. Glancing down at her black and red checkerboard colored hands, Hermione nodded as well.

 

~ * ~
 

Professor Slughorn waddled into his Newt potions class and glanced around, noting in consternation that several students – most notable his Slytherins – were late for class. “We seem to be a few students short,” he said in hopes of prompting the class to supply him with information on the whereabouts of those missing.

There was a snicker from the direction of the Gryffindor table and several students seemed to be fighting grins. Before Slughorn could investigate any further, the classroom door opened and Matilda March, a seventh year Ravenclaw, slipped inside. With her eyes cast firmly on the ground in front of her feet, Matilda made her way to her seat and slid into place without a word.

Slughorn stared in consternation at the newly arrived student as several giggles and chortles erupted around the class. He was preparing a carefully worded question for the Ravenclaw when the door opened again and his missing Slytherins entered. Unlike the self-conscious arrival of the Ravenclaw, Malfoy and Zabini sauntered to their places with all the arrogance that normally accompanied their entrance. The Slytherins who followed the two eighth years attempted the same level of nonchalance, though they fell sadly short of their older housemates.

Normally a verbose man, Slughorn was at a loss as to how to approach the question of his students’ late and rather unusual appearance. While he formulated and tossed away several carefully phrased questions, barely suppressed giggles and guffaws began to erupt around the room once again. The Gryffindors’ smug expressions coupled with the Slytherins’ appearance was really all the explanation Slughorn needed; Gryffindor had taken their revenge. It was unfortunate that the Ravenclaw girl had managed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Deciding that questions were irrelevant and would only cause his house further loss of face, Slughorn pulled out his potions book to begin the day’s lesson. As he opened the book to the planned assignment, inspiration struck – a way to help his house out of their current dilemma.

“We will be deviating from our books today. If you will direct your attention to the board for today’s assignment,” Slughorn said with a wave of his wand. “All ingredients may be found in the potions cabinet. It will take the remainder of the period to prepare, so please start immediately.”

Harry glanced at Hermione who was stifling a laugh as the title of the potion, ‘Hair Restorative’, appeared on the board.

 

~ * ~
 

“This is all your fault, Potter,” Malfoy growled as he waved a dust rag in the direction of one of the hundreds of trophies they’d been tasked to clean for detention.

“You have to actually touch the object with the rag to get it clean,” Potter replied with a huff as he watched Malfoy swipe the rag at another trophy without making contact. “And we wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t hit us with that potion that made us smell like rotten eggs.”

Malfoy snorted in contempt. “I suppose you thought it entertaining to force the Slytherins to skip everywhere we went.”

“You deserved it,” Potter replied as he savagely rubbed at a slightly rusty, ancient plaque. “That day that you made the Gryffindors talk backwards, we couldn’t do Charms or Transfiguration.”

“In case you failed to notice, Charms and Transfiguration are rather difficult to do when forced to speak in rhyme as well,” Malfoy replied scathingly. “One would think you could have at least been more creative than Iambic Pentameter.”

Potter threw down his rag in disgust. “I suppose you think that Tentacle hair is creative.”

“Much more creative than Fairy wings,” Malfoy replied with a sneer.

“Well, you are a ponce,” Potter replied with his own sneer. “You should try to sleep when everyone in your dorm room is glowing in the dark.”

Malfoy abandoned his attempts to appear as if he were actually working. “I suppose you think it clever to have our noses grow every time we strayed from the truth.”

Potter chuckled darkly. “Yours was the longest in your house.”

“And your house’s conversations were even more boring than I’d anticipated,” Malfoy replied with a malicious grin. “Those speech balloons showed every inane word you said. I was rather glad when that one wore off.”

The two young men glared at each other, neither making any attempt to complete their detention assignment.

“It’s all your fault that Professor McGonagall is calling a halt to any more pranks,” Potter said through clenched teeth. “Today’s the last day and we’re missing it.”

“It’s not my fault that you landed us in detention during the “House Battle”,” Malfoy snarled back. “I had several potions and jinxes ready in preparation for today. I do hope Zabini is making the most of my efforts.”

“You didn’t have to give Hermione beaver teeth,” Potter replied, kicking his dust rag across the floor with a frustrated growl. “She’s rather sensitive about that.”

Malfoy looked at the clock and then appraised the door with a calculating gaze. “You know, Potter, everyone else is at the Quidditch pitch either watching or participating in the battle, even the professors.”

“What’s your point?” Harry asked suspiciously.

“I’m sure we could find a suitable vantage point among the towers to watch from, even if we can’t participate.”

Harry nodded slowly. “I know just the place.”

The two boys quickly made their way to the spot Harry had suggested and watched as their classmates pelted each other with potion filled balloons and fired jinxes and hexes at each other. Even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were on the pitch, possibly due to being caught in the crossfire during the numerous pranks between Gryffindor and Slytherin over the last few weeks.

Malfoy snorted in disgust. “They’re about as organized as a bunch of house-elves.”

What appeared to have degenerated into a free-for-all suddenly stopped as the houses retreated to separate corners of the field.

“What are they doing?” Harry asked, more to himself than to Malfoy.

Before Malfoy could reply with some scathing remark about Potter’s intelligence, the Hufflepuffs let out a yell and began to rush toward the center of the pitch. As if that had been a pre-arranged signal, the remaining three houses gave their own battle cries and converged on their classmates. A sudden barrage of balloons streaked through the air, exploding as they made contact in the air. Student’s who had previously been rushing towards each other came to a ragged halt as the air around them began to thicken and turn a sickly bluish-grey.

“That can’t be good,” Potter said and then turned and ran for the door.

Malfoy glanced from the open door to the pitch, undecided if he wanted to follow Potter into what appeared to be a dangerous potion mixture or stay where it was safe. Deciding that the smoke was clearing from the pitch quickly enough to be of little danger, Malfoy made his way down the stairs at a more sedate pace. By the time he arrived at the entrance, the professors were herding the students into the Great Hall while Madam Pomfrey flitted from one to another checking for injuries.

“They don’t remember what happened.”

Malfoy turned in surprise as Potter spoke from just behind him. “They don’t remember the battle? Does that mean we get to do it again?”

Potter shook his head, a concerned frown on his face. “They don’t remember any of it - the pranks or the battle – not even the professors. Most think that they were on the field for the Gryffindor/Slytherin match, but that was weeks ago.”

“Surely someone knows what happened,” Malfoy said as he watched the last of the students stumble into the Great Hall.

“All the students were on the pitch,” Potter said as he and Malfoy stood alone in the entranceway. “The professors that weren’t on the pitch supervising were sitting together. The potion cloud must have blown in that direction. Not one single person seems to know what happened except us.”

Malfoy frowned as well, but slowly a sly smile began to spread across his face. “We could turn this to our advantage, Potter.”

Potter turned to stare suspiciously at his rival. “How?”

Malfoy gave a long-suffering sigh but his smile quickly returned. “Our housemates were only getting in our way, Potter. We don’t need them to decide which is the better house.”

Potter blinked a few times as he mulled Malfoy’s comment over. “We’ll have to be careful that no one figures out what is going on or they’ll want in on it.”

Malfoy’s grin grew positively malicious. “Our own private little war, Potter.”

Potter’s grin was just a wicked. “You’re on, Malfoy. Our own private war.”

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