Magic? || Years 5-7

Dreamers: Year 5

Fred and George may not be at Hogwarts any longer, but it felt like they had never left. They had, in fact, become a legend within days. Their story spread like wildfire, faster than any other tale had ever had through the castle. Amisty's favorite part was that almost everyone had decided that the twins had pelted Umbridge with twenty Dungbombs before soaring out of the school. Several students had taken to saying they'd like to pull a 'Weasley' if a lesson had gone poorly.

The swamp remained in the corridor, an ever-present reminder of their shenanigans and skill. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick had decided to refrain from helping Umbridge, telling her it was beyond their skills to remove even though everyone knew that was a lie. Filch had roped it off in complete frustration, but it was his job to punt everyone over it, so it wasn't like he had to pent-up his emotions.

Two broom-shaped holes had destroyed Umbridge's door, so Filch refitted a new one and locked Harry's Firebolt away in the dungeons. There was a rather popular rumor that it was being guarded by a security troll armed with a bat.

Everyone was taking it upon themselves to live up to Fred and George's example. Someone had snuck a niffler into Umbridge's office, and it tore it apart entirely and when she came back it leaped upon her, trying to gnaw off her silver rings. People had stacked up on Stinkpellets and Dungbombs, dropping them every few feet as much as possible. It had become tradition for everyone to perform Bubble-Head Charms to protect themselves from the stench.

Filch prowled the halls -- when he wasn't too busy kicking people over the swamp with a horsewhip -- trying to catch wrongdoers but failing miserably considering everyone was a wrongdoer at the moment. The Inquisitorial Squad had been trying to help him, but they were also failing miserably. In fact, so miserably that quite a few of them were getting some rather... unfortunate conditions. Warrington had hurried up to the hospital wing with a skin condition Amisty had never seen before. She flat out refused to help him, making up a pathetic sort of excuse about studying for exams so she could get into the N.E.W.T. level classes for the purpose of 'succeeding in her Healer career'. Pansy had sprouted antlers. Hermione and Amisty had to physically restrain themselves from throwing a party, and both had to promise that they had absolutely nothing to do with it. Amisty might have lied a bit. She'd gotten better. Draco didn't believe her, so she wasn't quite perfect at it.

Skiving Snackboxes, on the other hand, was an entirely different type of chaos. Amisty had no idea they had sold so many until their Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons would start and half the class would faint, vomit, suffer from dangerously high fevers, or start bleeding heavily from their noses. It made her absolutely furious and gave Amisty immense joy. She tried to put all of them in detention, but after that plan failed once four different classes pulled the same stunt and everyone very stubbornly told her they were suffering from a very bad, very contagious case of 'Umbridge-itis', she just had to deal with everyone leaving and teach the two or three kids who had forgotten to bring their Snackboxes that day. Madame Pomfrey had been very reassuring that she had helped every single student even know Amisty knew that was a downright lie. The hospital wing was completely silent except for the Inquisitorial Squad staggering in every other day.

Peeves seemed to have taken Fred and George's word to heart, soul, and spirit. He flipped tables at random, bursting through blackboards in the middle of lessons, toppled statues, and smashed vases. He trapped Mrs. Norris inside suits of armor where she yowled and screeched and hissed until a seething Filch released her. He threw lanterns to the ground and snuffed out candles on a whim, juggled burning torches above terrified students, flooded the second floor by turning on all the taps in the restrooms, pushed piles of parchment into the fires so they burned into nothing but ashes, dropped an entire bag of tarantulas in the middle of the Great Hall during breakfast (Ron was traumatized for the rest of the day), and if he got tired he would float behind Umbridge just out of sight and blow raspberries whenever she said a word.