The Zero Toleration Policy

Even the Hufflepuffs' spirits had been dampened by the Headmistress's announcement. They descended the stairs to their common room with a mixture of anxiety and indignation. Dewey noticed only a couple who seemed to look truly apprehensive, though.

“What are they looking for?” demanded Frank Smith.

“What do you think? Stolen wands and an invisibility cloak,” someone replied.

The Fat Friar was drifting through the common room with an unhappy look on his face.

“So, are you helping them search our rooms, Friar?” demanded Annabelle Jones. She sounded hostile, and the ghost flinched. “Are you now a spy for the Headmistress?”

“Certainly not!” he replied, sounding aggrieved.

“Stuff it, Annabelle!” said Dennis Grumman, emerging from the dorms into the common room, followed by Professor Peasegood and the other Prefect, Linda Prewitt. “You know the house ghosts aren't here to peep on students!”

“No, she has Prefects for that!” Annabelle sneered.

“Yes, she does, Miss Jones,” said Professor Peasegood. “Prefects are responsible for enforcing the rules and keeping their own houses in line, something we've all been shamefully lax in lately. Your resentment is misplaced. Would you care to explain this?” The Head of Hufflepuff held up a black book with blood red lettering on the cover. Annabelle turned pale and looked down, not saying anything.

“Maleficent Transformations,” Professor Peasegood said, in a very somber tone, reading the title. “A classic. Particularly among students of the Dark Arts. Taken from the Restricted Section of the library, and you are not in my NEWT-level Transfiguration class, so you have no business having it. What exactly were you planning to do this with, Miss Jones?” Peasegood's voice was very quiet now.

Everyone was silent, as they stared at the sixth-year girl. She continued looking at the floor and saying nothing.

“The Ophidian Transformation?” Peasegood murmured softly. “Or the Skin Sloughing Curse?” She was very slowly paging through the book. “Those are the pages you dog-eared. That would earn you the wrath of Ms. Pince, except that you will be facing the Headmistress first, I'm sorry to say.” And she did sound more sad than angry. “I had so hoped that no Hufflepuff students would fall victim to the new policy.”

Dewey stared now at the sign that had been posted by the door in their common room.

The following offenses will result in immediate expulsion from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, without exception:

1. Physical assault against students or staff (to include house-elves)
2. Jinxes, hexes, or curses cast against students or staff (to include all forms of dueling)
3. Theft
4. Deliberate destruction of school or personal property
5. Practice of Dark Arts
6. Possession of Dark relics
7. Possession or display of Death Eater symbols or regalia
8. Conspiracy to commit any of the above offenses

Half the school would have been expelled if that policy had been in effect before, Dewey thought. He felt sympathy for Annabelle, despite the fact that he felt she'd been rather nasty the entire previous term. The older girl looked stunned and numb.

Peasegood sighed, and handed the book to Grumman. He was holding a sack that seemed to be filled with other confiscated items. He grimaced and took the book gingerly between his fingers, as if afraid some of its maleficence might rub off on him, and dropped it into the sack.

“Mr. Hargrave,” Professor Peasegood continued. Next to Dewey, Edgar jumped. Dewey looked at his roommate, startled. He couldn't believe that the Muggle-born boy would be in possession of any Dark relics.

“What are you doing bringing this to school?” Peasegood demanded. She held up a strange, colorful box with many buttons and a tiny glass screen.

“It's just a GameBoy!” stammered Edgar. “It's... it's a toy, just a toy!” He was beginning to look frightened. “All it does is play games, you turn it on with –”

The other Hufflepuffs were looking at the strange Muggle device curiously, but Professor Peasegood said, “I know what it is, Mr. Hargrave. I have Muggle nephews.” She smiled slightly. “I asked, what are you doing bringing it to school? Didn't you know such things won't work here?”

Edgar blushed and shook his head.

Peasegood sighed. “Well, you surely knew that Muggle devices in general are forbidden at Hogwarts. Fortunately for you, they don't fall under the Zero Toleration Policy. But you will see the Headmistress tomorrow, and I will be confiscating this. You can have it back at the end of the year.” She tucked it into a pocket in her robe, and turned around to face the other Hufflepuffs.

“Listen to me, boys and girls,” she said, sounding both stern and motherly at the same time. “The Headmistress is absolutely serious about the Zero Toleration Policy. She is fully prepared to expel as many students as it takes to convince the rest of you that she is serious. She is expecting that it will require making examples out of people for the first week or two, at least. Please, do not allow yourself to be one of those to be made an example of... like Miss Jones.”

Annabelle, who had been still and silent until now, shivered, and Peasegood looked at her sadly, before she turned and swept out of the common room, followed by Grumman and Prewitt.

Dewey looked at Annabelle, who was still staring at the floor, now with a look of disbelief. Tears were beginning to roll down her cheeks, and her friends were moving to comfort her, and Dewey, feeling bad for her and knowing there was nothing he could do, proceeded on to his room.

Their room appeared undisturbed, their trunks untouched. Dewey assumed that Professor Peasegood and the Prefects had used spells to search for forbidden items, rather than doing anything as crude as physically rummaging through their belongings.

Edgar sat on his bed, and exhaled heavily, looking unhappy.

“Sorry about your toy, mate,” said Dewey.

Edgar was glum. “I just wanted something from home.”

Dewey found that a little odd, since Edgar had been so keen on being a wizard when he first arrived at Hogwarts.

“Been homesick, have you?” he asked.

“No!” Edgar said. Then looked down. “Not really.” He seemed quite unlike his usual indefatigable self.

“I can't believe they're searching our rooms now!” Alduin said, ignoring Edgar as he unpacked his clothes.

Dewey frowned at Alduin, and sat down on his own bed, across from Edgar.

“What's wrong, mate?” he asked.

Edgar shook his head. “I don't think you'd understand.”

“What do you mean?” Now Dewey was perplexed.

“You can go home and talk to your friends and your family about what you learned! I go home and my mum and dad want to know how come I haven't learned maths and geography and grammar!”

Dewey and Alduin exchanged looks. Edgar was right. He didn't understand.

“They know you're not going to a Muggle school, right?” asked Dewey.

“They don't really get what wizarding means,” Edgar said. “So I'm behind all my friends in my education, and I don't know any of the latest movies or TV shows, and what can I tell them? You can't go out into the Muggle world and say, 'Well, I learned to ride a broom and make teacups dance this year!' They'd look at you like you're a raving lunatic!”

“You're in the wizarding world now,” said Alduin. “Why should you care what Muggles think?”

“Because my family are Muggles, chum!” snapped Edgar, pushed about as far from his usual cheery disposition as Dewey had ever seen him.

“Don't be a prat, Alduin,” said Dewey, and then looked at Simon, wondering whether the other Muggle-born boy had the same problem. But Simon was frowning, and actually looked a little resentful.

“How about you, Simon?” Dewey asked tentatively. “What do your parents think about you being a wizard?” He was actually quite curious. Like most wizarding children, Dewey tended to think of Muggles as quaint creatures with their own quaint ways living in a quaint little Muggle world of which he knew hardly anything. But listening to Edgar talk about “going out into the Muggle world,” it occurred to him for the first time that perhaps Muggles would perceive wizards as the quaint ones, in their quaint little wizard world.

Simon was carefully putting his books back on the shelf over his headboard. “I don't have parents,” he said flatly.

All three boys looked startled at that.

“I... sorry,” Dewey said. “I didn't realize.”

Simon shrugged. “I grew up in state care. Professor Philandros and Professor Slughorn showed up to get me out of there and into Hogwarts. I thought they were barmy, all their talk about magic, but I figured some so-called 'wizard school' had to be better than where I was.” He glanced at Edgar, who was now staring at his fellow Muggle-born roommate, open-mouthed. “At least you've got people out there to go back to, even if they don't understand. Alduin's right. As far as I'm concerned, the wizarding world is all I've got now.”

For four months, Dewey had shared a room with Simon Norman, and never realized that the boy was an orphan. He hadn't even realized that Simon had been one of those staying at Hogwarts over the Christmas break. He told himself it wasn't entirely his fault – Simon just didn't talk much, to anyone. But he should have known.

And something else was bothering him, something he had heard once about Voldemort. Very few people knew the details of the Dark Lord's early years. Harry Potter was said to know more than anyone else, and he had declined to discuss the deepest secrets of Voldemort's life, but he did reveal once, in a famous interview for The Quibbler, that Tom Riddle, aka Voldemort, had grown up in a Muggle orphanage, and that he thought history might have been different if Tom Riddle had ever been loved.

Dewey regarded Simon thoughtfully, until the other boy finally noticed Dewey watching him and asked, “What?”

“I just had an idea,” Dewey said. He had, in fact, had a very big idea, but it was still nebulous and a bit confused in his mind, as it was not something he had ever thought about before, and he wasn't sure he could pull it off even if he could figure out precisely what it was he wanted to do. And for some reason, Mercy came to mind as the person who might be most helpful. That made him even more confused. His roommates were all giving him funny looks now, and Dewey shook his head and smiled. “Tell you about it later.”

It wasn't that he thought Simon had the makings of a future Dark Lord; that was absurd. The Muggle-born boy might be a bit quiet, but he was, truth be told, less stand-offish and judgmental than Alduin. It wasn't really Simon's character Dewey suddenly found himself questioning; it was his own.

The next day, the school was abuzz with rumors. Items that had supposedly been discovered, either during the search over the Christmas break or on the night that everyone had returned, ranged from forbidden nuisance items like Fanged Frisbees, to dangerous ones like winged knives, to extremely dangerous and illegal things like Hundred-Year Sleep Potion and basilisk teeth. There were of course whispers of Dark magic items and forbidden books, all supposedly taken from the Slytherin dorms.

Each house heard the most incredible rumors about what was supposedly found in other houses, yet the things they knew for certain had actually been found in their own houses were sometimes more shocking. Everyone else would have considered the most unlikely place to find someone studying vile curses to be Hufflepuff House. But as shocked as the Hufflepuffs were by Annabelle Jones's forbidden book, none of them had any doubts as to why she had it or whom she was planning to curse.

No house went unscathed.

“What's a pistol?” asked Rodney. The news had spread throughout Ravenclaw Tower – a fifth-year named Guy Blake had been abroad over the Christmas break, and brought back a very dangerous Muggle item. Kai and his roommates were now talking about it, like everyone else.

“It's a Muggle weapon, like a wand, except instead of shooting spells it shoots flaming pieces of metal,” said Kai, with his newfound expertise on all things Muggle. “Pokkapokkapokkapokka!” He pointed his fingers and imitated the sound effects from one of the computer games his future brother-in-law had let him play, before Cho had caught him and killed the computer with a tap of her wand. He added some whooshing and exploding noises for good measure. “And if you shoot a Muggle automobile with one, it blows up in this great huge fireball!” he added, spreading his hands to simulate the explosive detonation of a car. He had learned a lot from his brief exposure to Muggle television and video games.

Gilbert was squinting at Kai, and seemed as if he wanted to say something, but didn't.

“Merlin!” exclaimed Rodney. “What would Blake want with one of those?”

“Got me,” shrugged Kai. “I don't even know if they'll work here. But if he was planning to shoot someone with it...”

“No way,” said Connor. “He couldn't have actually been planning murder!”

It did seem unlikely. But Professor Flitwick had been ashen the previous night, when the pistol was discovered.

Nothing quite so dangerous was found in Gryffindor Tower, though Danny Boyle and Megan Lewis wound up carrying out several bags full of forbidden Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products. Chloe Grey also had something called a “sell-phone” confiscated, prompting Gryffindors to ask each other exactly what you could sell with such a device, and an extremely embarrassed Roger Drocker was the butt of many jokes when it was discovered that he had a Muggle magazine collection in his closet. Nobody else could say exactly what the magazines contained, but Megan had almost fainted when she discovered them. Professor Longbottom, red-faced, burned them to ashes with a wave of his wand, and told Drocker to report to the Headmistress's office the next day.

With a very serious expression, he had also told Teddy that he would be expected there as well. And sure enough, Teddy found his Paralyzing Potion gone. He glared at the portrait over Edan's bed, but the wizard said, “Dinna blame me, lad! You had it right under your bed, it didn't take a word from me for them to find it!”

His roommates were very curious, but Teddy refused to tell them what it was that had been found. He didn't have to worry about changing in his sleep that night, though – he hardly slept at all.

In Slytherin House, Ophilia and Hugh looked pleased, and Professor Slughorn relieved. They had found contraband items in the Slytherin dorms as well – Nagaeena wept indignantly when her hair growth potion was confiscated, even though Slughorn ran a hand over his bald pate and said, “My dear girl, if that snake oil really worked, don't you think I'd have my own handsome head of hair back?” And Violet noticed Slughorn talking privately both to Stephen White and to Clarice Darcy, and both of them looked embarrassed and uncomfortable.

However, only a single item falling under the Zero Toleration Policy was discovered in Slytherin House.

In nearly every class that day, someone was missing. They all knew that students who had been caught with contraband were on the seventh floor, waiting to see the Headmistress. Not everyone would be expelled, but the Headmistress was making sure that every single rules violator saw her. The message was being sent, and it had a chilling effect throughout the school.

“A little excessive, sending Edgar to see Professor Llewellyn because he brought some Muggle toy in,” muttered Dewey, sitting next to Violet in History of Magic.

“At least he won't be expelled,” said Violet.

Dewey looked at her. “You don't think Teddy...?”

The Gryffindors had told Dewey, during their first-hour Charms class, that Teddy was one of those who had been caught with something forbidden in his room, and was now waiting to see the Headmistress, but even his roommates didn't know what it was.

“No, I'll wager Teddy brought back some naughty toy that his Uncle George gave him,” said Violet, rolling her eyes. “I meant Geoffrey.”

Dewey looked at the empty seat where Geoffrey Montague usually sat.

“He's going to be expelled?” Dewey exclaimed, surprised.

Violet pressed her lips together. “Zero Toleration Policy,” she said.

“What did he have?” Dewey asked, and then realized that Professor Binns was looking at them. Usually, the ghost conducted his class almost as if his students were extraneous classroom decor, and it was easy to believe that he couldn't actually see or hear them. But he would notice, on occasion, when students were blatantly speaking over his lecture. Dewey sat up and adopted an expression of attentiveness. Binns turned back to the blackboard, where he was discussing the formation of the International Confederation of Wizards.

The prospect of one of their classmates being expelled explained why the Slytherins were so sullen. But despite having been given a talking to by Professor Slughorn, Stephen White was present and not on the seventh floor. It seemed that whatever Slughorn and the Prefects had found didn't merit a trip to the Headmistress's office. Stephen actually looking more attentive and less sulky than before Christmas. Going home over the holidays had apparently improved his disposition. Violet hadn't really had a chance to talk to him yet.

The other Slytherin boys, minus Geoffrey, were up to their old tricks, though. Stephen found his notes stuck to his desk, thanks to a Glue Charm, and Nero Velenos and Anthony Dreadmoor were whispering things which Violet couldn't quite make out, but from their tone and their expressions, it was almost certainly not nice, the sorts of things that usually made Stephen duck his head and look as if he wanted to curl up into himself.

Today, however, he just gave them annoyed, baleful looks.

Towards the end of class, with Binns droning on and on, Stephen laid his wand on his desk, with his hand resting lightly on it. With his other hand, he tried to peel his parchment off the desk, while Anthony and Nero, seated to his right, snickered loudly.

It was as the bell rang, with Professor Binns's back still to the class, that Stephen moved his right hand and said, “Deprimo!”

He had his left hand still on his wand, which was pointed across his desk to the right. The entire class jumped and several students let out little screams as the books on Anthony's and Nero's desks were both blown apart with a loud bang. The two boys almost fell out of their seats as smoking pages fluttered down on them, and Professor Binns turned around, blinking in surprise.

“What on earth is going on here?” he demanded crossly.

“Oops,” said Stephen. “I guess that was the wrong spell.” He grabbed his parchment and ripped it off his desk, leaving behind little shreds still stuck to the desktop, before he rose and exited the room.

“Wrong spell?” demanded Violet, following him out, with a bemused and intrigued Dewey following her.

“Wrong spell my arse!” Anthony yelled. He and Nero were also charging out of the classroom in Stephen's wake.

Stephen turned around to face them, which in itself was so completely unexpected that they both stopped and gaped at him. Then Anthony recovered and snarled, “You did that on purpose!”

“You destroyed our property!” Nero snarled. “That's a violation of the Zero Toleration Policy!”

“Shut it,” hissed another Slytherin boy. “We don't snitch on each other!”

“I was trying to unglue the parchment that you stuck to my desk,” said Stephen.

“With a... a... whatever that spell was?” Nero demanded.

“Sorry. It was an accident.”

The other two boys looked furious. “You just wait, White!” Anthony growled. He and the other Slytherin boys stalked off. Stephen watched them go.

“I'm not sure which is more impressive, that he grew a spine, or that he learned that spell!” Dewey whispered to Violet.

Violet marched up to Stephen. “Are you trying to be the next Slytherin expelled?” she demanded.

Stephen finally looked abashed. “You're the one who said –”

“I didn't say to do things like that!” she hissed. “With the new Zero Toleration Policy, you can't do that! If Binns had seen you, do you think the Headmistress would be convinced by 'Oops, it was an accident'?”

Stephen blinked, and looked down.

“Maybe not,” he murmured. “But if I have to choose between being expelled and putting up with what I did last term, I'll take my chances.”

Violet looked at Dewey, who was watching this entire exchange with fascination, and not a little bit of admiration for Stephen. She looked back at Stephen, and shook her head. “Let's go to lunch. If you're not planning to blow anything else up, that is.”

“See you later, Violet,” Dewey said. She nodded, and the Slytherins departed.

“Aren't you going to lunch, Dewey?” Mercy asked. He turned, to see her and Sung-Hee, who had apparently been waiting and watching him, just as he had been waiting and watching Violet and Stephen.

“Yeah,” he said. “Actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about.” As he walked downstairs with them, he couldn't help wondering about the fate of Annabelle, and Geoffrey, and of course, Teddy.

Teddy slowly trudged upstairs that morning after breakfast, to join the line of students waiting to see the Headmistress. He found himself unwillingly sitting on a bench next to Geoffrey Montague.

Neither boy spoke for a long time. They just sat there with their arms folded, staring straight ahead. Students of each house were all seen one by one, before the House Heads in Llewellyn's office rotated and those of the next house were called in. Everyone who'd been caught in possession of something that was not permitted was made to sit in the corridor outside that morning. It definitely had an effect on all those forced to endure that agonizing wait. Chloe was there, along with Edgar Hargrave, as they waited their turns to be scolded by the Headmistress and their House Heads, and so they got to see Teddy struggling to maintain his composure, while Montague sat next to him, doing the same thing. They also saw a very pale Guy Blake, almost shivering in fear while he waited for Ravenclaw's turn. And everyone saw Annabelle Jones exit the Headmistress's office, covering her face in her hands and weeping. The corridor was silent for a long time after that.

Edgar emerged after his own turn with Llewellyn and Peasegood, looking abashed but relieved. “Not so bad,” he whispered to Chloe, loudly enough for everyone else to hear. “I'll just be writing lines about bringing Muggle gadgets to school for the next week.”

Chloe grimaced, but looked less anxious than before.

Finally, as Professor Llewellyn finished with the Hufflepuffs and started on the Ravenclaws, Montague sneered, “So, why is Longbottom's favorite student here? You steal the bloody Sword of Gryffindor?”

“No,” Teddy sneered back. “What did the little Death Eater wannabe get caught with?”

Geoffrey gave him a look that betrayed fury and, for a moment, unguarded hurt.

Then he looked away again, and said, “A photograph of my father.”

Teddy blinked. And he couldn't help asking, “Why would you be in trouble for a photograph of your father?”

“Because of the Dark Mark,” Geoffrey growled.

Teddy sat there, and frowned. “But, that's not –”

“Zero Toleration,” Geoffrey grated. “It's the only picture of him I've got, but that's just what you get for being the child of a Death Eater, right?”

Teddy frowned. He couldn't think of anything else to say, until the last of the Ravenclaws left the corridor and Professor Slughorn arrived. Geoffrey Montague was called into the Headmistress's office, and Teddy went back to pondering his own dire fate.

“Teddy?”

He looked up. Chloe was standing there. She looked nervous, and her eyes were shiny with barely-contained tears.

“If you're looking for someone to write your lines for you, find someone else!” he snapped.

She flinched, and for a moment he felt guilty. “I just wanted to say... I'm sorry,” she whispered.

He frowned at her, trying to keep his expression under control. He felt as if not just his hair, but his face wanted to shift and twist and display everything he was feeling in a mask of fear and anger.

“You don't owe me an apology,” he said at last. “If you want forgiveness, go apologize to Violet!”

She looked down. “I can't,” she said, in a very small voice. “I'm afraid to.”

He snorted, and tried not to notice the tears running down her face as she turned and walked back to where she had been standing before.

Geoffrey Montague exited the Headmistress's office, his face impossible to read. He walked past Teddy and down the stairs.

It was another fifteen minutes before the Headmistress was finished with Slytherins, and it was Teddy's turn. He entered the Headmistress's office to find Professor Longbottom sitting in a chair by the window, and Teddy's bottle of diluted Paralyzing Potion sitting on the desk in front of Llewellyn, who was now looking at him with enough severity and disapproval to turn his hair as gray as hers.

They did not invite him to sit down. Professor Llewellyn inclined her head in the direction of the bottle. “Were you aware that Paralyzing Potion is a dangerous substance subject to strict Ministry regulation, Mr. Lupin? And that it can permanently paralyze or kill someone, if misused?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he replied. He was suddenly very calm, although he felt cold all over.

“Why did you have it?” Now there was a trace of curiosity, or something like it, in her eyes, but she still looked grave and unsympathetic. Teddy couldn't even see Professor Longbottom's expression, because the sun was shining through the window behind him.

Teddy took a deep breath. “I... I suppose you know, ma'am, that I'm a metamorphmagus.”

She nodded. “I've heard.” She waited.

“My face was transforming while I slept. I couldn't control it. My roommates got weird about it, thought I was a monster or something. I didn't want people thinking I was a monster. So I used it to paralyze my face at night.”

Professor Longbottom stirred in his seat. Professor Llewellyn looked aghast for a moment, then shook her head. “That was very, very foolish and irresponsible, Mr. Lupin. Do you have any idea how dangerous Paralyzing Potion is? You could have done permanent harm to yourself!”

“It's diluted, ma'am,” he mumbled.

“Yes, we already determined that!” she said curtly, cutting him off. She folded her hands on the desk in front of her. “Where did you get it?”

This was the question he'd been dreading. He knew he couldn't refuse to answer. Teddy felt the Headmistress and the Head of Gryffindor watching him intently. He looked down at the floor.

“I stole it,” he said, very quietly. “From Professor Slughorn.”

Llewellyn and Longbottom exchanged glances.

“You stole it from Professor Slughorn,” she repeated. “How did you accomplish that? I rather doubt that Professor Slughorn leaves bottles of Paralyzing Potion lying about where first-years can walk off with them. If he does, I shall have to speak to him about that.”

Teddy licked his lips, still looking at the floor. “He... invited me into his office a few times,” he said. “You know, to ask how my godfather is doing, and about what happened to my cousin, Violet Parkinson? He has some potions in the little cabinet behind his desk. I saw he had Paralyzing Potion there, and swiped a little bit of it while he was out of the room. Just a few drops.”

The two adults were silent a moment.

“Mr. Lupin,” said the Headmistress. “Possession of Paralyzing Potion is strictly forbidden, but so long as you weren't planning to use it on someone else, it does not fall under the Zero Toleration Policy. Theft, however, does. Are you sure that is how you acquired this?” She held up the bottle, wiggling it slightly.

Teddy squeezed his eyes shut. He let the coldness suffuse him, willing himself not to feel anything. He tried not to think about his immediate future, about what Harry would do, about his grandmother's disappointment.

“Yes, ma'am,” he whispered.

Professor Longbottom cleared his throat. “Professor Llewellyn,” he said softly. “I feel obligated to point out that Mr. Lupin's act of theft occurred before the Zero Toleration Policy went into effect.”

For a moment, Teddy felt hope, and a burst of gratitude for Neville Longbottom.

“Yes,” Llewellyn said. “I'm aware of that, Professor Longbottom. This was also pointed out by Professor Peasegood, on behalf of Miss Jones. The fine distinction between a crime being committed after a policy goes into effect and that crime being discovered afterwards might be relevant in a Wizengamot hearing, but not here. The Zero Toleration Policy merely formally spells out the conditions under which I will expel students. I have always had that discretion.” She sighed. “I just gave a speech to the entire school about how no one, regardless of family connections, will be exempt. What will it say to everyone if the very next day, Harry Potter's godson escapes punishment on a technicality?”

“I am not by any means suggesting he should escape punishment,” said Longbottom, in that same soft voice. “But just as no one should be granted leniency because of their family connections, I would hate to think that someone is being made an example of because of his family connections.”

“Everyone who violates the Zero Toleration Policy is being made an example of, Professor Longbottom!” snapped Llewellyn.

There was an awkward silence, and then the Headmistress said, in a somewhat gentler tone, “I take your point, Professor. But I've already expelled three students, and will be expelling more today, and probably even more in the days that follow. I can make no exceptions.”

The hope flickering in Teddy's heart died.

“Return to your room, Mr. Lupin,” said Professor Llewellyn.

Teddy walked out of the Headmistress's office without another word. He did not look left or right, he did not glance at Professor Longbottom as he went, nor at Chloe nor any of the other students waiting in the corridor outside.

His face looked normal. It was Teddy Lupin's face, the Teddy Lupin who was a Gryffindor student at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But that was a mask. He had discovered that being a metamorphmagus, he could use his own face as a disguise, appearing emotionless and hiding the shame and grief that was tearing him apart inside.

He had no illusions that Harry could get him out of this. Even if he could, he wouldn't, and Teddy wouldn't ask him to. He wondered what children expelled from Hogwarts did. Maybe he could become Hagrid's assistant.

When he reached his room, he turned the portrait of Edan's ancestor around to face the wall, ignoring the wizard's muffled protests. And only then did he sit down on his bed and let his mask slip. He cried, then, knowing that he had let down Professor Longbottom, his house, his godfather, his grandmother, and worst of all, his parents.