The usual pre-HBP disclaimer here. There may also be mention of a slightly sexual situation.
Hazing
“Who you blowing a kiss to, Potter? Your girlfriend?”
“We don’t like people like that in Slytherin.”
“Come to think of it, we don’t like Gryffindors in Slytherin either.”
“You know what? I think it’s time for a little good ol’ fashioned hazing, what do you say?”
A roar had gone up from the Slytherin table. Giselle had looked desperately into the faces of them, then to the face of Dumbledore who was watching her intently.
“Help,” she had mouthed to him. When had she gotten nothing but a grave nod in return, she had turned to the Slytherins and screamed in their faces.
“What do you mean, hazing? What are you going to do to me --?”
A hand had been forced over her mouth, and she had been thrust out the doors of the Hall, down, down into the dungeon’s below.
She entered the Slytherin common room, her heart in her throat. All around her were Slytherins pointing and looking her up and down. She was disgusted to see a seventh year checking her out, his tongue protruding from his lips as he stared hungrily at her bare legs showing from under her robes.
He sauntered over and placed a cold, cold hand on her shoulder that made her shrink back in fright. What sort of things were they going to do to her?
“You know, Potter, you’re looking mighty fine this morning,” he said sleekly, running his fingers up and down her trembling face. He moved closer, bringing his face to hers and parting his lips.
She tried to move away, but his grip on her arm was too strong. He moved his face up to her neck and started to nuzzle her neck in a way he thought would entice her. Giselle was horrified.
Is this what they had in mind by hazing? Where on earth are Halle and Millie? Why didn’t they help me… oh please…somebody…help me…?
He pressed his body up against her petite frame, pushing her hard up against the stone wall. He drew his knee up between her legs and tried to push them apart. He moved away from her neck and stared into her eyes.
“You’re going to enjoy this as much as I am,” he said, his eyes now focused on her chest. She tried valiantly to scream, but found the boy pointing his wand at her mouth.
“Silencio,” he said cruelly, and went back to staring at her chest.
He thrust his face forward and his dried lips touched Giselle’s own and she recoiled under his touch.
He moved his tongue inside her mouth and viciously started to poke it into every crevasse, every nook and everything she considered her own. She could feel her insides squirming under his pressure. She couldn’t pull away or object; she was afraid he’d do something worse than kiss her.
She endured this kiss for all of ten seconds when she felt the boy wrenched away from her. She breathed clean air again and looked to the boy’s bloodless face. His eyes glittered maliciously as he wiped his hand across his mouth.
Her savior was standing next to him, and it was no one Giselle was expecting.
Griselda Goyle stood in front of her, restraining the boy.
“How dare you, you lying cheating, foul” hey!” she was yelling to the boy when he slapped her hard across the face, leaving a massive red welt.
“Griselda, you bore me,” he said turning away from her and staring once more at Giselle who was straightening up and looking at the two lovers curiously.
“You, Warren, bore me!” she said vehemently, poking the boy hard in the chest. Fury crossed Warren’s face as he heard these words.
“You…you’ll pay Griselda. I’ll make sure of that.”
He stalked forward and grabbed Giselle around the neck and forced himself on her again, and again Griselda wrenched him off.
“What are you playing at?” he snarled at her.
“We have better uses for Giselle Potter. She is worth more to us than your play toy, Warren Galstone,” she spat at him before turning away from him and grasping Giselle by the forearm.
Giselle mutely objected, for she could make no noise due to the charm placed upon her. She had no choice but to allow herself to be lead to the centre of the common room.
They were gathered in a circle around a low wooden table on which one of them placed a bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky. Giselle almost collapsed with relief. They weren’t going to do anything too…sinister… to her.
The circle broke apart and Griselda entered with her hand still clasped painfully around Giselle’s wrist. A wave of her wand produced two goblets, their red rims gleaming horribly.
“Pour,” ordered Griselda, indicating the two glasses. Giselle was dumbfounded. All she had to do was drink some Firewhisky?
“Pour,” Griselda ordered again, motioning to the two empty goblets.
Giselle pulled to heavy bottle upwards and let the Firewhisky spill greedily over the rims, splattering onto the table.
“ Evanesco, ” Griselda hissed, narrowing her eyes at Giselle.
“And now, we drink,” she said, picking up both her and Giselle’s glasses and handing one to her.
She inclined her head in a short nod, toasting to the dumbstruck Giselle.
Unknowing the consequences of drinking with the enemy, Giselle raised her glass in thankfulness it wasn’t something worse. As the hot liquid slid down her throat, she noticed in alarm the thick consistency was not of Firewhisky, but of something unknown to her.
She choked and spluttered, grasping her throat and making unheard rasping sounds. She vaguely remembered old Mad-Eye Moody giving her a word of advice she dearly wished she had remembered: “Never accept anything you haven’t had you eyes on the entire night. CONSTANT VIGILANCE! ”
This was her last thought as she collapsed and stared into the cold eyes of Griselda Goyle. She hadn’t noticed until now Griselda hadn’t taken one sip of the substance, and cursed herself for doing so. Everything faded into darkness and Giselle thought no more.
Dumbledore and Harry arrived at the door to the dungeons accompanied by the Head of Slytherin House.
“Blaise, what do you suppose we do? They’re your students; you should be able to control them, shouldn’t you?” Harry asked tersely, studying the door.
“Harry,” said Dumbledore, warningly.
Blaise sighed, running his hands through his jet black hair.
“Augery,” he stated to the gargoyle that guarded the tunnel. It nodded briefly and moved aside for them to pass through the doorway. Dumbledore folded himself inside and beckoned for the two professors to follow.
* * *
Wendy stepped forth and stared down at the form of her cousin lying unconscious on the floor.
She plucked a single gossamer strand from her slumbering head and added it to the potion in her hand. It started to hiss menacingly, and she held her porcelain nose as she downed the mixture. She didn’t splutter as she changed this time; she was ready. Her hands grew longer, her nose broadened and she took on the genetics of the Potter line. Perfect.
She snapped her fingers, and several Slytherins hastened to obey her as she pointed to a storage closet with her newly formed slender finger.
“Dispose of her,” she ordered clearly in Giselle’s voice.
One by one, they picked up one of Giselle’s limbs and threw her bodily into the closet, shutting the door behind her with a resonating thud.
“Perfect,” Wendy purred as they returned to her. “Now, continue, Warren.”
Warren stepped forward greedily and began caressing Wendy’s new body softly at first, then hard, pushing his thumbs forcibly into her neck, sucking the blood up to the skin on her arm, and then thrusting his tongue forward into her mouth just as Harry, Dumbledore and Blaise stumbled through the arch, horrified at what they were seeing.
* * *
Harry was furious. The Slytherin boy had Giselle by the throat, and was kissing her hungrily. He brushed past Dumbledore, ignoring the hand placed on his arm by Blaise, and grabbed Warren by the throat, forcing him off what he thought to be Giselle.
“How dare you,” he hissed viciously, squeezing Warren’s throat. Purple marks were forming on his neck where Harry was holding him, and Harry felt a hideous pleasure when he noticed.
The remaining Slytherins, including a fuming Griselda, were ushered away into their dorms by Blaise. He was muttering and cursing Harry as he did so.
Harry threw Warren up against the wall, and watched him as he slid drowsily down it, into the exact same spot he had pinned Giselle minutes earlier.
“Please …” he whispered through a split lip.
“Please … no, it’s not what you th”” he choked out, but Harry cut him off with another hand on his throat.
He wanted to cause this boy as much pain as he could, and he moved his fists down to Warren’s stomach where he began pummeling it as hard as he could. He could dimly hear the yells of Warren, could feel the blood pumping in his, Harry’s veins, and could see the vision of Giselle being befouled by this boy.
It was only when Dumbledore stepped forward and pulled him off Warren did he abandon every attempt at bashing Warren. He slid further down the wall, and lay pathetically at the bottom, moaning piteously.
Harry, haven given up, stared into the questioning eyes of Dumbledore. He pulled away and instead turned to Wendy who was standing beside Warren with an odd smile on her face. Harry didn’t notice, and instead enveloped her into a fatherly hug. He murmured into her hair, stroking her back in quite a different way to which Warren had.
“Are you okay, Giselle?” said Harry, pulling her to arm’s length. She still hadn’t lost the strange smile on her face, and Harry assumed it was only the shock of everything that had happened.
“I’m fine, Dad,” Wendy said choosing her words carefully as not to tip off Harry to who she really was. “It’s just some bruises, no harm done.”
“Just some bruises?” Harry sputtered disbelievingly. “What else did the boy do to you?”
“Nothing, Dad, I swear. I’m OK. Warren didn’t do anything,” Wendy said calmly.
Harry stared suspiciously at his daughter.
“What do you mean, Warren? How do you know the boy’s name?”
Wendy bit her lip for a second. How was she going to get out of this?
“It’s…” she hesitated. “It’s just I heard Griselda saying his name, is all. I swear I haven’t ever talked to him before,” she said.
Harry was convinced, though Dumbledore wasn’t.
“How did you get those bruises, Miss Potter?” he asked softly.
At first Wendy didn’t answer, then she realised she was ‘Miss Potter’. She told him what happened. “Warren forced himself on me, Sir,” she said unblushingly, lying straight the Headmaster’s face.
Harry’s face hardened. “Right, right that’s it,” he said furiously, turning back to Warren.
Dumbledore placed a steady hand on Harry’s arm. Harry turned around and saw defeat.
“We’ll be going now,” he said roughly, guiding Wendy out of the common room.
Blaise came down the stairs and stood next to Dumbledore. “Fellow seems a tad unbalanced, if you ask me,” he said looking at Harry’s retreating back. “Better watch out for him.”
Dumbledore turned round slowly and stared at Blaise.
Harry helped Giselle into a chair in front of his office desk. Halle and Millie had been waiting there since Harry had talked to Halle at breakfast. Wendy sat quietly, ignoring the stares of her cousins and instead focused on Harry, who was leaning back in his chair, observing them all.
“Are you sure you’re alright, Giselle?” asked Harry
This time Wendy responded quicker. “I’m fine, Dad,” she said.
“Wha”” started Millie before Halle elbowed her in the stomach. Wincing, Millie turned to Harry.
“You know, of course, of Wendy Weasley,” he said. Wendy started in her chair, and Harry looked at her concernedly for a minute. “Are you absolutely certain you’re alright?” he asked again.
“I’m fine,” she replied. “What about Wendy?”
Harry sat thinking for a minute, lost in thought. When he spoke, every word was deliberate.
“It seems Wendy was the one who started the fire in the common room.”
Halle and Millie gasped involuntarily, and Wendy gasped just to make it look unsuspicious. She was, however, surprised Harry knew this.
“How do you know this, Uncle Harry?” asked Halle tentatively.
Harry sighed. “That is between Professor Dumbledore and I,” he said tiredly.
“But still, why shouldn’t we know?” pressed Millie.
“Professor Dumbledore seems to think you need not know the answer,” Harry said frowning at his nieces.
“But anyway, Dad, on with the story,” said Wendy impatiently. She wanted to see where this was going, and she didn’t have all that much time to hear it; only about three quarters of an hour left now.
Harry stood up and paced around the room; the girls followed his every move as he talked.
“Wendy was under instructions from Lord Voldemort, it seems, to destroy the power that resides in you. The power of three, we shall call it. She apparently didn’t follow his orders well enough, because my sources tell me she was punished.”
Wendy flinched when he said this; her knees still bore the scars from when she was thrown on the ground. Fortunately, Harry or her cousins didn’t notice, or they would have yet again asked if she was alright, and she didn’t need Harry getting suspicious.
Harry continued explaining Wendy’s downfall in detail, staring at each of his nieces in turn.
“Wendy was sent to kill you”” his eyes flicked from Halle to Millie, “”you ”” his eyes flicked finally to Wendy, “”and you. You three, as I explained at our last D.A meeting, are special. You are the ones you bring power to me, giving me the strength to one day defeat Voldemort.”
Wendy flinched at her master’s name. This time Harry did notice.
“Giselle, something is wrong. Tell me.”
Wendy shook her head in answer. “There’s nothingwrong. You just reminded me of something Warren said, that’s all.”
Harry was furious at being compared to that boy and continued his talk with renewed vigor.
He was interrupted by Halle.
“Why is Wendy doing this? Is there a specific reason or is she just an evil little”” (Halle called Wendy something that made both Millie and Harry raise their eyebrows and Wendy hiss menacingly) “”huh? Tell me that, Uncle Harry. What’s her motive?”
Harry sat down again rubbing his temples. “I don’t ever want to hear that word again, Halle Aleesha Weasley. Never again.” He cleared his throat.
Suddenly a new voice joined the conversation as Dumbledore entered the room. Halle was glad he hadn’t been there a moment before.
“For your information, girls, Wendolin was not always evil, nor has she ever been,” he said softly, and Wendy gave him a curious look. How did he know so much about her past… unless… he had known her parents?
“She has, however, been under the influence of Lord Voldemort near to eleven years. No small child could stay good in the presence of evil for that long,” he said, and Wendy felt a tear forming in the corner of her eye. She brushed it away angrily and spoke harshly to the Headmaster.
“How do you know there’s still not some good inside of her, huh? Who says she’s entirely evil, like Halle said?” she glared at Halle, who, along with Millie and Harry, were staring at her openmouthed.
Dumbledore was just studying her silently, and Wendy caught site of the infamous watch he wore on his wrist. Only about fifteen minutes left. She had to be quick.
“Perhaps, we should ask someone who really knows Wendolin, someone who knows their daughter would never be truly evil,” said Dumbledore striding over to Harry’s unlit fireplace.
“Incendio, ” he muttered, and blue-bell flames flew from his wand tip and ignited the wood in the fireplace. He grabbed a pinch of powder from a small flowerpot on the mantle place and threw it into the flames. They turned a bright, emerald green and Dumbledore stuck his long, bearded face into the fire and said clearly, “Bill and Fleur Weasley.”
He pulled his face out of the fire and Wendy was amazed to see not a hair on his head was singed.
Her amazement was cut short, however when she saw who was revolving around in the green flames. Her parents.
A/N: Bah, I know you won’t kill me! You’re all too worried I won’t finish the story If you do! Heart to Lori for betaing my work; I’ve had her tied up for the holidays, just making her read my chapters with only a hunk of bread and a glass of water in front of her, just out of reach, with the promise of letting her have some when she’s finished. Now, as she eats her stale bread and drinks her murky water, I can honestly say if it wasn’t for Lori you probably wouldn’t have had Chapter Two to read!
-Lurid