The Bombshell

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Harry was in the middle of telling the Hufflepuff second years about boggarts when a shrill voice sounded from his bag.

"Oi! Gin! Over protective prat number six wants to talk to you!"

The whole class jumped, and Helga Radcliffe gave a little scream, however Ginny merely groaned from the desk and dug the parchment out of her bag, Harry watching her in amusement. She picked up a quill and scribbled a line or two, paused, her eyes scanning the paper and then reported to Harry, "Looks like Ronniekins has been on the old Firewiskey again."

Harry gave a very un-teacher like snort, but otherwise made no comment, and turned again to face his class. After a moment of furious scrawling, Ginny reported, "Actually, never mind that, he's just drunk with happiness. He's not so hush-hush over the whole Hermione thing."

Harry sighed theatrically.

"Is he in a silly mood?"

Ginny nodded her auburn head.

"Yup. Could you speak to him, and I'll teach? I can't read any more of his babblings. Don't worry," she added, seeing Harry eyeing her beadily, "I won't corrupt your sweet little secondi's."

Harry narrowed his eyes, "Only because I want to speak to Ron. But I'm watching you, Weasley. One false move and you're out on your scrawny arse."

Ginny glowered at him. "Whose arse are you calling scrawny?"

The second years had been watching their teachers in confusion and more than a little shock. Teachers didn't talk about Firewiskey and arses. And who on earth was Ronniekins?

Harry pulled the parchment toward him, scribbled something, and then paused, his eyes moving across the parchment. He then gagged suddenly, and Ginny looked at him with an expression that was part pity, and part deep amusement.

"Gross, eh?"

Harry's voice sounded quite unlike his own when he spoke.

"His words will haunt me for the rest of my natural life. No one wants to hear about what a great kisser their best friend is."

Ginny grimaced. "Did he write that?"

"Yeah, and look, he's got something else to say, he doesn't usually ramble on like... eugh!"

He made a revolted sound as he read the last line, and then thrust the parchment at Ginny, saying squeakily, "Read this. I don't want to face it alone."

Ginny scanned the words, and then in unison, the two teachers groaned and started banging their heads against the desk, whimpering.

_._._._._._._

Albus Dumbledore surveyed the faces around the circle of teachers, his eyes sombre. Most were ashen with shock, but the expressions of the two youngest members of staff were of grim determination. Harry broke the shocked silence.

"Sometime in March, you say?"

The headmaster nodded. "That's what our leak told me."

"Before she was tortured to insanity," Minerva interjected bitterly. A collective shudder brought a fresh picture of Celia McNair to each of their mind's eyes.

"Poor girl" said Filius softly, "Poor girl. She was far too young."

"Now is not the time to duel on Celia's fate." Dumbledore said quietly, "We must ask ourselves what to do about the planned attack."

Ginny snorted, "It's obvious, isn't it? We're going to fight."

McGonagall arched an eyebrow. "May I enquire as to how? We're a school, not an army! We'll have to inform the Ministry and ask for aid!"

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