A Little Mud and Muck Never Hurt Anybody

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“What do you mean you’re not going to try and talk him out of it?”

Ron shrugged. “Mione, Harry obviously wants to do this,” he told his girlfriend from the common room couch. “If it’s something he feels he has to do, why should I argue with him?”

Hermione rolled her eyes as she paced. “Ron, do you really want him to visit Azkaban?”

“No,” Ron replied. “But it isn’t my choice, now, is it? It’s his, and if he wants to visit death central that’s his business. If you’re so worried about this, why don’t you try and talk him out of it?”

“He never listens to me,” Hermione replied. “You’re his best friend.”

“So’re you.”

“Yes, but you’re a boy.”

“And when did this revelation hit you, love?”

Hermione glared at him. “Why won’t you just talk him out of it?!”

“Because it’s his choice!”

“You’re sending your best friend to his doom!”

“I am not!” Ron yelled getting up. “I don’t want him to go, but I won’t stop him. These are his skeletons to face, not mine!”

They glared at each other for what seemed like eternity, until Hermione pushed passed him up to the girls’ dorm.

He rolled his eyes, and pushed open the portrait hole to step out.


“So… What are you saying?”

“I knew your father.”

Oliver Wood looked confused before realization dawned on him. “Oh. That father. The death eater one.”

“Oliver… he wasn’t a death eater,” Willow told him from next to Angel. They were in Willow and Tara’s combined office, just talking.

“How do you know?” Oliver asked suspiciously.

“First of all,” Angel said. “I woulda seen the Dark Mark on his arm at some point, and there wasn’t one. Two, I knew Doyle. He was a good man.”

Oliver looked perplexed. “His name was Doyle?”

“Last name.”

“Oh.”

There were a few moments of silence before Angel cleared his throat. “Listen, he… he never mentioned you or your mother, but I think you woulda gotten along really well.”

“Yeah, well,” Oliver muttered uncomfortably. “That’s great.”


Faith walked into the Magical Lore classroom after classes the next day to see an interesting scene before her.

No one was singing.

No one.

Ron and Harry were sitting together, completely silent. Hermione was across the room, not looking at either of them. Harry was staring dreamily at Cho… again. Cho, occasionally, gave him a leering smile. Ginny was staring at Harry. Pansy was staring at Draco, who was staring at Evelyn, who was too busy talking to Torianna to notice. George, Fred and Lee were sitting together, probably up to no good, and Neville was roaming around the room, calling the name of his toad, who was obviously lost again. Seamus was doing his best to help, but to no avail. Katie, Oliver and Angelina were working out Quidditch moves for the game on Friday night, and Millicent was sitting alone, doing homework.

At the front of the group sat Willow, Charlie and Tara.

Charlie smiled and waved her over. She smirked and joined them.

“What’s the what?” Faith asked Charlie.

“They won’t sing together,” he replied. “Professor Giles got fed up and left.”

“Why won’t they sing together?”

Tara shook her head. “Ron quote ‘doesn’t feel like it’ because he and Hermione fought… again. Harry doesn’t really care, except Cho keeps distracting him. Fred, George and Lee are quote ‘busy.’ As long as Draco is here, Evelyn won’t sing. As long as Pansy’s here, Draco won’t sing. As long as Evelyn’s here, Pansy won’t sing. Neville lost Trevor… again. Ginny is just as distracted as Harry and Cho. Katie and Angelina and Wood are talking Quidditch. The only people who have no problems are Millicent and Seamus, but we can’t work with just an alto and a bass. This is a mess. And a bad idea. This is ridiculous.”

“It was a good idea, Tara,” Charlie reassured her. “It’s just going to take some work.”

Faith blinked. “Man, this sucks.”

At that moment, Giles walked in and stared at the group. “Listen up.”

The group stared at him.

“Did you, or did you not decide to join this group? No one said it would be easy. No one said that it you would be with all of your friends, and blending would come automatically. Now, if you don’t get your little arses on those risers, I’m going to take ten point from each of you for being lazy and apathetic to an activity you signed up for.”

A moment’s silence later, the group had slowly made their way to the risers, and Tara got up to stand next to Giles.

Faith smirked. “Damn.”

Charlie smirked. “Yeah, I know. He’s good isn’t he?”

“Always has been,” Willow replied. “He’s easily the sternest man alive.”

“You mean besides Snape?”

“No, that’s the meanest man alive,” Faith replied.

Charlie snorted. “Or the greasiest.”

They snickered.

For the first time, Charlie gave Willow a good look-over. “Have we meant? Are you a relative?”

Willow laughed. “I wish.”

“Betcha we could sneak you in,” Charlie joked. “No one would know the difference. We could name you the ‘distant American cousin.’ My mum‘d be delighted.”

“Jewish cousin,” Willow corrected. “And it wouldn’t be very believable.”

“I don’t, know, Red,” Faith replied. “I think you could pull it off. I, on the other hand, would have to go in as ‘The Girlfriend.’”

Willow’s eyes widened, and she stared at Charlie and Faith. “Already?!”

Charlie shrugged and put an arm around Faith. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Man. That was quick,” Willow said. “But then again, Faith is… well… never mind.”

“Speaking of meeting the family,” Charlie said to Faith. “I’m taking Ron home this weekend to talk to them about the half-demon thing. Since I don’t know that much about it, I thought maybe you could come along, and help us out?”

Faith smirked. “Yeah, okay. Sounds good. Just as long as your mother doesn’t try and kill me.”

“She won’t… much.”


Harry slammed his head against Professor Summers’ desk. He’d gone there to talk. He found that the blond slayer provided an ear, and insight that was fairly valuable. She had experience in crazy friends, and he really liked talking to her.

She looked up from the magazine she was reading, and stared at him. “Stop. You lose more brain cells that way.”

Harry sighed. “Ron and Hermione have been fighting for two days. They won’t talk to each other. They’ll barely look at each other, and it’s because of me.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I’m going to Azkaban with Remus, Torianna and Evelyn.”

“And Wesley,” she added.

“Professor Wyndham-Pryce is coming, too?”

Buffy sighed. “Apparently, he’s going to be acting as Sirius’ lawyer, however that works. I didn’t even know he had a degree, but whatever. How do you know they’re fighting about you?”

“Because they won’t talk to me, either,” Harry told her. “When they won’t talk to me, they’re fighting about me.”

“Harry, listen to me,” Buffy said, leaning over the desk. “There isn’t anything you can do. Things will work out one or another, but don’t stress, okay? You’ve got enough to think about with the Quidditch game against Slytherin on Saturday morning, and Azkaban in after that.” She looked out the window at a group of people walking toward the Quidditch pitch. “And I think you have an elsewhere to be.”

Harry sighed. “Yeah. Practice. Right. I just… they both seemed okay with my going to Azkaban.”

“To your face,” Buffy replied. “They’re worried about you, that’s all. Angel was telling me about Azkaban and Dementors and stuff, and it sounds pretty wiggy.”

“Wiggy?”

“Freaky.”

“Oh.”

“Harry, it’s your life,” Buffy told him. “You can listen to words of wisdom all you want, but it‘s always gonna be your choice in the end.”

Harry nodded and got up. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Professor Summers.”

“No big,” she told him. “Now get out, or you’ll miss practice.”


“This is a joke, right?”

Evelyn shook her head. “Nope. I’m going to visit my dad.” She’d decided to talk to him again, just to tell him where she would be headed for the weekend. Just to make him crazy. She was still fairly upset at what he’d said to Ron.

Draco stared. “In Azkaban?”

Evelyn nodded casually as she adjusted her book bag. He was following her to the Gryffindor portrait hole.

“Why?”

“To see my Dad.”

“A murderer. The guy who killed Potty- er… Potter’s parents and a bunch of Muggles.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Sure.”

“You’re nutters.”

She stopped walking. “I’m what?”

“Nutters.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Crazy!”

“Oh,” Evelyn replied. “Okay. Yeah, I’m crazy.” She started to walk again, but he grabbed her arm. “Off, Malfoy.”

He stared at her. “Be careful, okay? I’ve heard really bad things about Azkaban.”

She stared back. “Are you showing actual concern for another person?”

He glared at her.

She patted him lightly on the cheek. “There may be hope for you yet. I might even be able to get you to apologize to Ron before the week is out.”

She left him fuming alone in the hallway.


Practice was long. And it had started raining like crazy, but for once, no one cared. Near the end of practice, Fred and George had started a huge mud fight. Eventually, they’d all abandoned their brooms and took to the ground for a spontaneous bout of mud wrestling, which involved Torianna pinning Angelina to the ground and shoved mud in her face after she’d dropped some down Torianna’s shirt. Katie had gotten in on it, too, throwing mud at both girls. Even Oliver had loosened up, and had started flinging mud at the twins, who, in turn, flung twice as much back, seeing as there were two of them.

Harry had tackled Ron.

“Talk to me!”

“I do talk to you, you great ponce, gerroffa me!”

Harry smirked, and picked up a wad of mud. “Tell me the truth.”

“I had a fight with Hermione about your going to Azkaban!” Ron cried, staring with frightened eyes at the mound of mud.

“What?!”

“She’s mad at me for not trying to talk you out of it! Now put the mud down!”

Harry shrugged. “Okay.” He smashed the mud in his best friends face.

And then the Slytherins showed up for their practice, and things got worse.

The Gryffindors glanced at each other, and Oliver screamed out something much akin to a battle cry before leading his team, mud in hand, toward the Flint and the Slytherins.

“Oh, shit,” Flint muttered.

The Slytherins began to run, but to no avail. They Gryffindors had caught up to them, and all hell broke loose. After it was all over, both Ron and Harry had Draco completely covered in muck. Oliver had Flint begging for mercy, and the girls and the twins had the rest of the team, running for the hills.

Fred flung one last handful of mud after them, but it didn’t hit its intended target.

It hit Professor Minerva MacGonagall.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Fred muttered.

“WEASLEY!!!!”

“Nice, Fred. Fan-bloody-tastic!” George grumbled.

The entire team had gotten detention that night. They had to do the laundry for the whole of Gryffindor house after the Quidditch match. The Muggle way.

They almost looked like a chain gang, walking single-file down the hall behind a still-muddy MacGonagall.


Hermione was hard at work in the library after dinner that night, flipping through Hogwarts: A History. Ever since Professor O’Brien had mentioned a month ago that a vampire had gone to Hogwarts, she’d been determined to find out more.

“What are you looking for?” asked a voice above her.

She looked up to see Professor O’Brien himself standing over her. “Uhm… just… something.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Which would be?”

“Well, y’know how you mentioned that vampire who went to Hogwarts…?”

He smirked, and looked at the cover of her book. “Won’t be in there. You’ll have to go a bit more b-list. Conspiracy theories and such.”

“You mean… like Hogwarts: An the Untold History?”

Professor O’Brien shrugged. “Could be a start. Good luck.” He walked off to the restricted section.

She hopped out of her seat and found the book she was looking for. She sat back down with it, flipping through, finding out that there was a small paragraph that named a vampire the book referred to as the Scourge of Europe.


Her eyes narrowed, and she read on until the library closed.


Harry arrived back in the common room, still dripping with mud. None of it had dried.

Hermione looked up from her Arithmancy homework in shock. “What in…”

“Hey, Hermione,” Harry greeted, still trying to get all the mud off his glasses.

“What happened?” she asked.

“We mud-bombed the Slytherins,” Fred said proudly, walking in with Angelina and George.

“Yeah, and then you mud-bombed Professor MacGonagall,” Angelina added. “And then we served detention.”

Ron walked through the portrait hole, still wiping mud from his hair.

Hermione spotted him, and turned the other way.

“Oh, please,” Harry muttered.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Come on, Hermione, don’t do this.”

She didn’t reply.

“It’s not my fault Harry’s going to Azkaban!”

“But you won’t even try and talk him out of it!”

Harry blinked. “I’m right here.”

“We’ve had this conversation already!” Ron cried. “It’s not my place. If Harry wants to go, it’s his choice.”

Harry sighed.

Ron paused for a moment, before thinking an odd thought. “Mione… if you don’t talk to me, I’m going to hug you.”

She finally shot a look at him, looking up and down her mud-covered boyfriend. “You wouldn’t.” She had to admit, as horrible as the mud was, it did something to make him seem more, well, as Torianna would put it, yummy.

The infamous Weasley grin spread across his face as he advanced on her. “C’mere, Hermione. Give Ronnie a big hug.”

She got up. “Ronald Weasley, don’t you dare.”

He grinned even wider, and opened his mud-covered arms. “Come to me, my love!” he cried.

Harry couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing, and flopped down on the couch next to Ginny. He turned to her, and smiled. “Hey, Ginny.”

She smiled quietly. “Hello, Harry.”

He looked her over. She was sitting with her charms book. “You’re all clean.”

She blinked at him.

He smeared some mud onto her nose and smirked. “That’s better.”

She blushed hotly, and began to pick the mud off. “What was that for?”

Harry shrugged. “Dunno. Seemed like a brilliant idea. And you look cute.”

He blinked at his blunt words. Cute? Ron’s sister? What was he thinking?

She blushed even brighter at his words, and covered her face with her book.

Ron now had his arms wrapped tightly around Hermione, who was squealing and squirming, getting mud all over her. After being mad for a few minutes, she finally started to giggle, as did Ron. She looked up at him and stopped. So did he, but he was still smiling. He leaned down to kiss her, but stopped short at:

“TEAM!” Wood cried. “BED!”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Bloody hell.”

“Don’t swear,” Hermione scolded.

He glared at her, and pressed his lips to hers. “Night, Mione.”

“Good night, Ron.”


“Are you okay?”

Oliver shrugged at Willow. She’d just entered the Gryffindor common room an hour after the team had gone up for the night. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

“Because of your dad,” Willow replied. “It’s a lot to take.”

“I didn’t know him,” Oliver replied. “It doesn’t bother me that much. I have parents, doesn‘t matter that I wasn‘t born to them. They
love me. Did you know him? My father, I mean?”

Willow shook her head. “No. I never met him. Buffy met him once, I think, but Angel and Cordelia really knew him. He was Angel‘s seer.”

“Seer?” Oliver asked. “Like Ron?”

Willow nodded her head. “Yep. He was a half-demon, too.”

Oliver blinked. “Half-demon?”

“Yeah.”

Oliver paled a bit. “Well… well, what does that make me?”

Willow pursed her lips together, but had no answer for her friend.

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