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Chapter 14

"The 'Wicked Witch's Wand,' Hermione?" Lavender Brown stopped to tease as she walked past the bookworm's bed and paused to read over her shoulder.

Hermione quickly slammed shut the owl-order catalogue from Priscilla's Prurient Pleasures and stuffed it under her Transfiguration book. She refused to turn around and face the blonde - her face was burning red.

"I'd start off with the new 'Wee Willie' model," Lavender advised with a knowing nod. It's more our size. I have a 'Little Boy Blue' and we can trade off if you want," she offered.

Hermione's blush only increased at this revelation. "Um - maybe," she muttered, quickly drawing her bed curtains. Assured of her privacy, she opened up her catalogue once more. She circled the 'Wee Willie' and then flipped idly through the pages. "Oh my gosh!!" she gasped. There in black and white (well, mostly black) were Mary Sue's over-the-knee boots! The model in the illustration was also wearing Hermione's idol's black leather shorts and top! Her excitement mounting, the young witch pulled out her money bag and began counting her Galleons.


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One week and one large parcel delivery later, Lavender Brown approached Hermione's bed.

"This was great!" Lavender's eyes sparkled as she returned the item Hermione had lent her. "How did you like my Little Boy Blue?"

"Well, I didn't actually try it," the bookworm admitted as she handed it back to its rightful owner.

"You didn't...!?"

"Shh!" Hermione shushed the blonde-haired girl. "No, but I wanted to ask a favor of you..." she bit her lower lip hesitantly.

"Sure! Anything!" Lavender nodded eagerly. "You want us to try using them together?"

"NO!" Hermione blushed. "I've noticed you and Parvati doing each other's hair..." she began. "I was wondering... Do you think maybe... Have you ever before cut another girl's hair?"

"Yours?" Lavender warily eyed the tangle of brown hair in front of her.

"Cut it short and straighten it? And dye it black?" Hermione asked sheepishly.

"YESSS!!" Lavender shouted jubilantly. "PARV!! Where are you!? We have a mission!!!"


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"Um? Mary Sue?" Harry greeted Hermione in the common room the next morning. "You look different." He cocked his head several times to get different angles. "Your eyes!" he declared at last, "They're brown!"

"Honestly, Harry!"

"HERMIONE!??" he gasped as he recognized her voice. "What happened to you!??"

"I'm trying out a new look. Thank you ever so much for noticing!" the Other-Girl-in-Black sniffed, her chin held out defiantly.

"You look like Mary Sue's twin!"

"Really!?" Hermione dropped her affected air and studied his expression eagerly. "You really mean that? You're not merely trying to humor me?"

"What did you do!?" Harry stared at her, or gaped, rather.

"Lavender and Parvati did my hair," Hermione grinned at his reaction.

"That's not all they did!" Harry continued gaping.

"The rest is just a new outfit I owl-ordered."

"Whoa!!" came Mary Sue's shout from the top of the girls' stairs. "What did you do, Hermione!?"

"Lavender and Parvati did my hair," Hermione repeated. "I thought it would go nicely with my new outfit."

"Bloody hell!" the Original-Girl-in-Black rushed down the steps to give her doppelganger the once-over. "Come over to the mirror," she grabbed Hermione by the arm and dragged her across the common room. "We could be sodding twins!" she rendered her verdict.

"Except that we wear our swords on opposite sides," Hermione noted.

"And you don't have a headband," Mary Sue frowned. "With Dumbledore gone, how will we ever get the lettering to match?" she sighed.

"Hermione can have mine," Harry offered, eager to be rid of it.

Mary Sue snatched it from his head in a trice and handed it to her almost-twin. "Make sure the lettering is right-side-up," she instructed.

"What lettering?" Hermione furrowed her brow as she examined the headband.

"It's black-on-black," Mary Sue pointed, "in a Bonzai typeface that reads," and here she lowered her voice to a whisper, "'Order of the Phoenix' with ORDER and PHOENIX in all-caps."

"Why are you whispering?" Hermione whispered back.

"Because the Order of the Phoenix is a secret organization. Shh! Secret!"

"Honestly?"

"Yes. It was Dumbledore's paramilitary group," Mary Sue explained. "I'm not sure what its status is now, with Dumbledore gone and all. There! That looks perfect!" she adjusted Hermione's headband down a bit on the right-hand side and nodded her approval. "Let's go down to breakfast."

~~~

"Is that Granger!?" Whispers followed the trio into the Great Hall where they blossomed into a general din of excited buzzing.

At the Slytherin table, Draco couldn't believe his eyes. Now there were two of them! Without realizing it, he reached up to cover his ears with both hands. Across the table, Nott and Parkinson were debating the merits of acquiring swords of their own. Nott thought he would look spiffing.

"We're Purebloods," Pansy reminded him. "Perhaps walking sticks, such as Lucius Malfoy carries, would be more appropriate than Muggle swords. Besides, swords are fashioned of metal, which everyone knows cannot be used for wands," Pansy pointed out, and here she dropped her voice to a whisper, "I think Mister Malfoy's cane is really a wand."

Draco smirked at that. His father's cane concealed a wand - it was not a wand, per se. Although, he considered, what if one were to stick a core in a walking stick ...? It was certainly an idea he could write to his father about without fear of ridicule.


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On a Thursday in late February, the Slytherin table remained deserted as the other House tables filled with students, hungry for their evening meal. Just as the Ravenclaws had done a month before, a prefect threw open the Great Hall doors and in marched House Slytherin, the tips of dozens of walking sticks sounding a tattoo on the ancient flagstone floor.

"Fuck," Acting Headmistress McGonagall muttered as she propped her elbows on the High Table and buried her face in her palms. "Why me?" she sighed.

Over two hundred years ago the Ministry had restricted the carrying of magical staves to adult witches and wizards. They were too powerful, the Ministry reasoned, to be used by children. Seventh-year students were legally adults, however, having achieved the age of majority, and some of the sixth-years were seventeen, as well. McGonagall could not issue a blanket order forbidding the walking sticks, and besides, these were technically canes, not staves. What was an Acting Headmistress to do?

Absolutely nothing. Nothing at all.

McGonagall decided to ignore the issue. Her left eye twitching slightly, she waited for the clatter of canes to quiet, then raised her hand to signal for the food to appear.

The Hufflepuffs murmured anxiously while the Ravenclaws assured each other that in a clash of steel against wood, steel would easily triumph. The Slytherins gave each other knowing grins and kept glancing over at their walking sticks, all neatly propped against the wall behind their table.

From across the room, the Gryffindors eyed the Slytherin table warily. The first-year Gryffs were especially nervous because they would have double Potions with the snakes the following morning.

"I can't wait to see Hufflepuff march in here some evening," Mary Sue quipped, "and every one of them wielding hoes."

"So they'd be the Hufflepuff..." Hermione grinned evilly.

"Exactly!" Mary Sue nodded emphatically to her twin partner-in-crime.

~~~

Horace Slughorn was not quite sure what to make of the situation. He was rather put out that his Snakes had not conferred with him before outfitting themselves so, and had caught him in the awkward position of not having a walking stick of his own. He was presently trying to remedy that situation, leafing through the catalogue that had arrived via owl on Friday morning. It was thus that he was late to open the doors to the Potions classroom and it was thus that the first year Slytherins and Gryffindors found themselves waiting in the corridor with not much else to do but to taunt each other.

"I'll have you know, Potter, that this was all my idea!" Draco Malfoy boasted, his chin jutting out proudly. Behind him, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson and Nott sneered in agreement while the rest of the Slytherins smirked at the Gryffs.

"Your father's idea, you mean, don't you?" Harry retorted. "Doesn't he keep a wand hidden in his cane?"

"No he does not!" Draco protested loudly.

"And you all have wands hidden in your canes, I suppose?" Harry scanned the Slytherins, ignoring Malfoy's denial.

"We most certainly do not!!" Draco shouted.

"Or perhaps your walking sticks are wands," Hermione considered.

Although Malfoy was quite adept at not letting any reaction show on his face, many of his fellow first-years were not so gifted. Crabbe and Goyle both gave their leader a nervous sideways glance.

"I knew it!" Hermione crowed, pointing at the two.

Crabbe raised his cane menacingly in her direction, but he held it as a club, not as a wand. As he brought it down it met the steel-hard, curved edge of an Acromantula pincer and as the Ravenclaws had earlier predicted, wood was no match for steel. Crabbe's cane burst into flames as its magical core was exposed and severed. Magical sparks flew in all directions.

"Protego!" Mary Sue's voice rang out, her shield spell protecting her House-mates from harm as the sparks and flaming shards rained down around them.

The Slytherins were not so lucky. Crabbe's sleeve had been set alight and as he turned to Goyle for help, the end of his cane, still sparking erratically, set the other boy's robes on fire.

"Aguamenti!" shouted Pansy Parkinson, stepping forward and pointing her cane at the two. Instead of the moderate stream of water that would be expected from a wand, her miniature staff produced a fire-hose gusher which blasted both boys into the group of now panicking Slytherins, knocking most of them to the ground. Pansy was thrown backwards from the recoil and slammed up against Mary Sue's shield. Her cane continued to shoot water in all directions as she fought to control it.

"Finite! Finite!" Pansy eventually thought to cancel the spell, but not before Professor Slughorn opened his door to see about all the commotion in the corridor. He was just in time to receive a blast of cold water in the chest which knocked him back, sprawled arse over tin-cups, into his Potions classroom.

Sputtering, the rotund man regained his feet and approached the doorway once more. "What's going on out here!?" he shouted, cautiously poking his head out into the corridor. What met his eye was a chaotic mess. His first-year Slytherins were down and soaking wet. Crabbe's severed cane was still emitting sparks, which hissed and fizzled in the pooled water. The Gryffindor first-years were all huddled behind a shield spell, gaping in disbelief at the sight before them. And last was Pansy Parkinson, standing in between the two groups, holding her cane horizontally in both hands and looking guilty as hell.


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