[You may want to read Rebel Yell! before jumping in]

Sept 3rd
10am

The halls of Hogwarts were filled with young dreamers.  Some would attend their first class, and others would begin their final year.  There were friendships to forge, spells to learn, enemies to avoid and classes to participate in, but none of those held true for Darcy.  While she had attending the opening feast with a smile on her face, revenge was ripening within her heart.  The first day of class had seen a few pranks, which were only natural with the meanest, most selfish, hateful woman as their new headmistress.  Darcy had been asked to join in, but she had something more brewing.  Her first day back had been spent unsuccessfully trying to capture and control a flock of pixies to lock inside the Headmistress' office.

After the first attempt, Darcy justified her failure with the need to think big--  Something that would be an omen of Snark's eventual failure, something that would get the Ministry very upset with her.  Before, all her thoughts had been maliciously playful exaggerations of pranks she already pulled with Misty, Fauna or Ollie.  But this would be for Ollie, and as such it needed to fit the crime against her dear friend.  Not enough was being done, in her opinion, and Darcy doubted the Headmistress would change her mind just because Fauna asked nicely.

It wasn't until she was poking at the old ash in the common room fireplace that she had her idea, her Magnum Opus.  Fire.  Various ideas flew through her head, of flaming statues, Ollie's name spelled out across the lawn, burning the Quidditch Pitch (although instantly dismissed from her love of the game).  But she didn't want to hurt anyone, and that crossed out the Lake and the Forbidden Forest.  She wouldn't want to destroy Greyfriar's old things, or the portraits in the Headmaster's Office.  What of her beloved Hogwarts could she bear to part with, for Ollie's sake?

Then it came to her:  The hospital wing.  It was only the first day, there shouldn't be too many people there.  And it would symbolize that you couldn't heal Lycanthropy--it was not a disease or some deformity and Ollie was just like everybody else.  Eureka! And so the plot began.  Several late-night trips into the Restricted Section of the library later, she had found her spell:  Fiendfyre.

Wednesday morning, Darcy ate breakfast with all the other Puffs, not letting anyone know what was about to happen.  Three danishes and a glass of cider later, Darcy made her way to the Hospital wing, hands trembling with each step.  "Profes--Healer Nagde?" she called cautiously, hoping yet fearing the former Professor would not be present.  She stepped in further, peeking around the empty beds.  She had her chance, now could she actually go through with it?  Wand upraised, Darcy wrote upon the wall above a bed in permanent Hufflepuff Yellow, "For Ollie."  She paused, not knowing whether to write a dramatic testament of the young girl's bravery or to simply leave it as it was.  Staring at the wall, Darcy was too worried about the consequences of what she was actually about to do to think of any grand statements.  It would have to suffice.

She bit her lip and pointed her wand at the bed.  No one was there to stop her.  Her eyes flickered back up to her statement, and with a final wave of courage she cast her spell.  A ball of ferocious flame shot from the end of her wand and sat square upon the bed, quickly expanding to lick up the hem of the sheet.  "For Ollie," she whispered to herself,  pouring her anger to the spell. It was as if a wall of heat slammed against her entire body.  Perhaps she had overstepped herself, but consulting the darker books, but she knew her little Charms book sure as heck wouldn't get the point across.  Serious steps had to be taken, and Darcy knew she was the only one who would or even could do so.   She half expected to be whisked away to Azkaban right then.  As the flames began to grow, Darcy gave it one final look-over before turning to run.  She had done it.  Snark could stick that in her schmancy stiletto heels.  

Figaro was late for Divination.  Very late, considering he was about three or four stories down from the proper tower and in the wrong wing of the castle.  He was jogging, expending a negligible amount of his endless energy.

He spotted Darcy Bloxham, his tomboyish housemate, standing outside of the Hospital Wing looking in.  He grinned as he slowed is gait to have a word.

"Heya, Darcy.  You alright..."  But it was then that the smell of burning invaded his nostrils and a gust of strong heat gushed from the Hospital Wing.  He took a few more steps towards Darcy, who's front was illuminated a brilliant orange from the light of the conflagration within.

Immediately, Figaro panicked.  "Oh no! Darcy, get back! It's a fire!"  He took a couple steps towards the double doors, but stopped himself.

He turned to Darcy.  "Darcy, is there anyone in there.  HAY! IS ANYONE IN THERE!"

He kept shooting glances at Darcy.  What was that expression on her face - what was going on?

The flames grew higher and higher, and as the small girl watched her handiwork, she was transfixed.  What on earth had she done?  It was out of her control; Darcy could only hope that she had acted rightly.  The crackle of fire kept growing loudly, accentuated by the sudden pops as the flames licked up various salves and ointments.  Perhaps she hadn't thought this plan all the way through.  Nevertheless, it was done.

"Heya, Darcy.  You alright..."

Every nerve in her body jumped at once, and in a split second she expected to turn and see a Prefect, a Professor, or even worse, the Head Girl.  "Ohmygoshess," she exhaled, hand over her heart as if to keep it from leaping out.  It was just Figaro.

"Oh no! Darcy, get back! It's a fire!  Darcy, is there anyone in there.  HAY! IS ANYONE IN THERE!"

"No, no one's in there. No one except the the spirit of Ollie who is now avenged!" she cried, almost glad to have someone she could brag to.  That was the hardest part of any good prank, not telling everyone that it was you.  Suddenly worried that maybe she shouldn't have spoken up about the f ire, Darcy turned upon the boy, "And you better not tell anyone that it was me or I-I-I'll hex you...so bad your mother wouldn't even recognize you.  Forever!"  

"What?!"  Figaro turned back to Darcy, his friend and housemate.  His brows were furrowed in confusion.  "What - you did it? You set the fire?! Why?!"

Another blast of hot air gushed from the hospital wing and instinctively, Figaro grabbed Darcy by the arm and moved them back against the far corridor wall.  From their view, Figaro could see the fire wasn't a normal fire.  Instead of the roaring crackle of a fire, it was actually roaring! And growling and stampeding around.  Figaro thought he could make out the burning shapes of animals in the flames.  They charges against the windows, and flew into the rafters.  A loud crash sounded - something big had collapses.

"We've got to go get help, Darcy! We've got to get out of here!" he started, but she wouldn't budge.  He started yelling down both hallways.  "Help! Fire! Someone help!  HELP!"

"Oh no! Darcy, get back! It's a fire!  Darcy, is there anyone in there.  HAY! IS ANYONE IN THERE!"

Though Trent Travis normally wouldn't care about silly Hogwarts drama... There was, afterall, a fire and he had to react. But, being Trent... He was just walking at a normal pace towards to infirmary. Whoever was shouting at whoever, they'd save them. Right? Trent could just be a witness and say "Yeah. They saved them. Do I get anything?" Was it possible that a witness could get anything... For being a witness?

"No, no one's in there. No one except the the spirit of Ollie who is now avenged!"

Trent's heart leaped and he started to run. Ollie Foley was undoubtedly the love his life. Keyword, was. After she was expelled, Trent had nothing to do anymore besides cry in his bed when no one was around. But after finding out Astrid was apart of SAWS, something clicked and he was all gooey after her. Was it Astrid who was inside the fire? Trent began to sprint and nearly knocked himself into a small Hufflepuff boy... Figaro. And... Someone else.

"And you better not tell anyone that it was me or I-I-I'll hex you...so bad your mother wouldn't even recognize you.  Forever!"  

No, definitely not Astrid. Trent tried his best to recognize the girl, a small girl with short brown hair. Who the heck?--

"We've got to go get help, Darcy! We've got to get out of here!"

Darcy? Trent actually, for once, remembered now. She was one of the cute Hufflepuff girls at the paintball game last year. He didn't really think at all before he yelled "Are you mad!?" He turned away and coughed a bit before looking back to her, "Listen... I'm not going to stop you... I don't know about Fig, but I'm not stopping you. Just... Whatever you do... Stay away from the fire." Because lordy knows, Trent had gone through as stage where he was contemplating suicide. "I love Ollie, too. But we can't die for her. She's still alive!" Trent covered his mouth with his sleeve. At least there was no one else in there, right? Trent didn't exactly care. For some odd reason, he only cared about Darcy.

Transfiguration had not got off to a good start for Pax that day. He hadn't even had a chance to sit down when he realised that his nose had spontaneously started to bleed, much to his surprise. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd had a nosebleed.

Walking towards he Hospital Wing awkwardly with his head tilted back and a handkerchief to his nose, he wondered vaguely what might have caused it. Stress? Change of environment? Wrackspurts? His musings were interrupted, however, when he drew within earshot of his destination.

"Help! Fire! Someone help!  HELP!"

Pax froze for a split second, then barrelled down the corridor to the source of the noise. That was Figaro Sellaphix's voice. Pax was never quite sure what to make of him, but right now, judging by the urgency in his elder housemate's voice, he instinctively took him at face value; Figaro was in trouble. 'Figaro!' Pax yelled back. 'Where are you, where's the fire? Are you--'

Pax fell into stunned silence as he reached the corridor that led onto the Hospital Wing. Blood streamed freely down his upper lip, handerkerchief forgotten and dropped somewhere behind him, but he barely noticed. The fire was in the Hospital Wing. Not just in the Hospital Wing, either. It had completely consumed it. This was not like the fire that had broken out during yesterday's Herbology lesson. This was out of control; life-threatening.

'Fire-- fire--' Pax gasped, his voice absolutely tiny with fear. Usually, he liked to approach a situation from all sides before he came to a solution. This, however, was obviously no time to deliberate. This required action. And Pax's action involved screaming, 'Get back from it! I'LL GO GET A TEACHER!' and bolting back down the corridor in a flurry of blood, sweat and tears. They were in over their heads. They needed a grown witch or wizard; preferably several.

"What?!  What - you did it? You set the fire?! Why?!"

Darcy matched his furrowed brow with her own exasperation.  "Someone had to do something!" she yelled, raising her voice over the roar of the fire.  That everything was so loud was a little disconcerting.  It would probably be best to leave the scene, fast.  It was guerrilla warfare, and she was an army of one. A loud crash broke into her self-congratulations and Darcy began to realize that maybe the restricted section was restricted for a reason.

"We've got to go get help, Darcy! We've got to get out of here!  Help! Fire! Someone help!  HELP!"

She was transfixed, staring into a fiery furnace that was now beyond her control--a mantra of expletives began to pound into her mind.  She barely took notice of Figaro's departure until someone else came up.  What was this, school-wide 'Let's all go to the infirmary' day? Now all she wanted to do was to hide.

"Are you mad!?  Listen... I'm not going to stop you... I don't know about Fig, but I'm not stopping you. Just... Whatever you do... Stay away from the fire.  I love Ollie, too. But we can't die for her. She's still alive!"

Trent, the one person she thought would understand (it was well known he had a crush on the young lady) was naysaying her as well, and it was all she could do to keep from running to a corner and crying.  Couldn't they see that this was necessary!  What was done was done, and now Darcy could only defend her work.  It was too late for anything else. 

"I'm not crazy!  Do you really think talking will get anything done!  It won't!  You have to fight fire with fire, Trent!"  She looked into his big, blue, misunderstood eyes lit up by the raging fire.  "If we don't do anything, who will?" she pleaded, desperate to have someone on her side, someone particularly like Trent.  He was older, wiser and if the sexual tension she felt whenever he was near would damn her as well, Darcy wasn't sure if she could handle it.  She was right! That was the important part.  Why couldn't anyone else see it her way?

"I'LL GO GET A TEACHER!'

What?  She reeled, only to see a small fluff of hair she once thought adorable, running off to seal Darcy's fate.   "No!" she cried after him, her hands clenching into fists.  "It wasn't supposed to happen this way!" she bemoaned, arms raising up towards her hair as her hands twitched to grab hold of her short locks.  She was supposed to be snug in the common room by now, smug from making the first successful strike against the new Headmistress.  Instead, she was stuck between ensuring the awful fire didn't kill anyone or running from shame at having made things so out of control. 

Now that Figaro felt sure Darcy wasn't going to try and go in or anything, Figaro let go of her arm and stepped away from her.  She'd done it on purpose!  And for Ollie? Ollie wouldn't have wanted Darcy to go to Azkaban or burn down Hogwarts castle!

He put his hands on his hair as Pax Wintergreen ran off for a teacher.  Figaro was breathing hard.  At least Trent Travis was there, an older student.  Figaro took a few more steps away from the blazing Infirmary and shook his head, still holding it in his hands.

"You're gonna go to prison, Darcy! They're going to throw you in Azkaban!"  At this, he shakily drew his wand and held it up pointed at the fire.  But he just froze there like that, his arm stretched out and shaking.  He bit his lip,  no idea what he should do.  Wand out just seemed like the wizardly thing to do in a case like this.

"I'm not crazy!  Do you really think talking will get anything done!  It won't!  You have to fight fire with fire, Trent!"

Trent gave Darcy a puzzled look, "I'm not disagreeing with you... At all!" He shook his head. How did he get into this mess? His lip trembled a bit at the chaos. "I understand what you're doing, Darcy. I do." He stared at the flames a bit. What would happen when they catch her? Will she run for it? Will she let them take her? Trent probably wouldn't let them, then again he'd probably run for it. Before he could say anything, a little boy with a bloody nose ran to get help from a Professor. Oh man... OH MAN! "Darcy, we have to get out of here!" He agreed with Fig.

"No! It wasn't supposed to happen this way!"

Trent hesitantly put his hand on Darcy's shoulder, "It'll be okay... We need to run for it..." Unless she WANTED to be expelled. "Darcy. If you don't run, they'll take you away. And if they take you away..." Then what? Trent didn't finish what he was going to say. His lip quivered a bit more. All these unexpected feelings were hitting him like crazy. He didn't want Darcy to leave, he wanted her to stay. It was almost like being next to Ollie Foley... Only Darcy wasn't cuddling all over him or possibly licking his face. Though Trent imagined how spectacular that would be, he pushed away the thought.

"We don't want you to leave." He murmured, softly, to her. Though Darcy probably didn't like him, she didn't seem to mind him being there. If it were Fauna starting the fire, she'd be so creeped out by him that she'd be long gone. But ever since Trent had became apart of Devlin's gang, he became less and less interested in the girl. He definitely didn't want to get in Devlin's way. Trent then reached down to hug Darcy, not sure if she'd want this to happen. But it seemed as if she needed some comforting. She was, afterall, setting the infirmary on fire.

"You're gonna go to prison, Darcy! They're going to throw you in Azkaban!"

Darcy's eyes widened at the thought of the dank, deep dark prison.  Surely they wouldn't send her to Azkaban.  She was a child! With puppy eyes that would make a Dementer swoon in adoration!  It was impossible. 

"It'll be okay... We need to run for it...Darcy. If you don't run, they'll take you away. And if they take you away..."

She bit her lip, torn between running or facing the consequences of her action.  Let them try and take her away, and if the Headmistress wanted Darcy to leave too, then fine.  She and Ollie would form their own school!  Her mothers would be amazing professors, and Lizzy would be great as Headmistress, too.  "Let them take me away.  It's time the world realized how corrupt the education system has become."

She leaned into Trent's hug, the physical comfort soothing her confounded soul.  Her arms wrapped around his wiry frame, head snuggling against his chest.  "Will you stand with me?" she asked, softly, squeezing him once before stepping away.  "And you?" she asked again, more firmly, to Fig.  She needed allies, and she needed them fast. 

The smoke was filtering up into the next floor and as Ana descended the stairs, which had frozen in apparent fear, she gagged slightly. That acidic taste.. that color... it could only be one thing. Her heart leapt to her throat as she pictured Death Eaters swarming the castle once more, casting Feindfyre in every direction to finish the job they failed years before. Why they chose the infirmary first was beyond her, perhaps testimony to their ruthlessness. Despite all her cynicism and lack of trust, it never dawned on Analiza that it was a mere student playing with magic they didn't understand to fight a war they weren't prepared for.

As she reached the fire, which was now licking out of the infirmary door hungrily, spikes of flames forming dragons, snakes and other creatures of horror, she was greeted with a sight she hadn't expected and certainly did not wish to see. No Death-eaters to strike down with vengeance and earn respect and fame for her bravery, just three... children really. Two Hufflepuffs and a Slytherin. She immediately zeroed in on the Slytherin. Despite having been in the same house, or perhaps because she had been in the same house, Analiza presumed that the tall, slim young man in his shoddy jacket had to be the one who cast the curse. He was older then the other two, and being in Slytherin, knowing dark magic was far more likely.

"Were you responsible for this?" She demanded, her hand latching around his arm and her eyes boring into his with a ferocity that was only heightened by the fires glow. Her wand slid into her hand and she was about to train it on his face and repeat her question when a fire snake burst out and came awefully close to her face. Pulling back, she released him and did something uncharacteristically brave, she put herself between the three students and the fire. "Get them out of here and somewhere safe. NOW" She barked at the older Slytherin, pointing towards... well anywhere but there.

Turning back to the fire, she saw something very strange scrawled on the wall out of the corner of her eye. For Ollie... The meaning of this phrase, both of its origin and what it could do to benefit her, would come to mind later. Right at that moment, Analiza had one thing in mind: Banishing the fire. It meant banishing an entire part of the school and she couldn't do it alone, but dammit she was gonna have to try. It could be said it was a beautiful sight, the slender frame of the headmistress standing tall in the midst of screaming flames, weaving around her as snakes and dragons, her red hair blending with the fierce fire as though she had been lit up. Raising her wand she begin to chant and a large cat made from pure light begin to fight the flames back.

"Will you stand with me?"

Trent gave a blank look to Darcy, "Of course, why wouldn't I?" He would do anything for Darcy at this moment. He'd even admit to starting the fire. Though, he could hardly let it escape his lips if he tried. Though he was in love, Trent was greedy and selfish. Though he wouldn't mind leaving the god forsaken school to be with Ollie. Or perhaps with his true mother and father... But dying wasn't on Trent's mind at the moment. He was too smitten and hot from the fire that he, for once, wasn't thinking of his awful life.

"Were you responsible for this?"

He hardly even saw the Headmistresses coming before she grabbed him. "No! I didn't do it!" He immediately cried out. So much for taking the blame. It was understandable that Snark would immediately assume it was Trent. He was, after all, a total nutter. Plus, he was the only adult student there. Trent nearly told the lady that Figaro started the whole thing but she let go of him. And... Jumped in front of the flames? Trent didn't know what to say...

"Get them out of here and somewhere safe. NOW"

"C'mon, Darcy... We need to get out of here." Trent was more than welcome to get away from the fire. He pulled her closer until his lips nearly touched her ear "I won't watch them take you away, Darcy. I don't want to lose another." His voice cracked as he tried to whisper. Trent was panicking. "Please..." He pleaded, hugging Darcy much tighter than before. At least Trent fell in love with a fellow nutter.

Figaro just stared at Darcy with his mouth open when she point blank asked him if he'd stand by her.  He didn't know! How could he answer that! I mean, she was his friend, but why had she done something so terrible? This didn't help Ollie? And how would Fig getting in trouble with Darcy help anyone? She was going to burn down the whole castle!

In that moment, the Headmistress descended upon them, as fiery and furious as the conflagration.  If he had to choice to face Darcy's question, the fire or Headmistress Snark - well, he was more frightened of Snark right now that any of it.   

Immediately she demanded answers, and again the glib Figaro was speechless.  When the Headmistress screamed at Trent to lead them to safety, Figaro still didn't leave.  He didn't want to go with Trent and Darcy.  He just stepped back a few paces to stand behind a suit of armor that was beginning to get very warm.

He was terrified.  Where were all the adults? And why the hell did Darcy do that?!

The sight of red hair descending upon them froze every nerve in Darcy's body.  The headmistress! That little fluff-ball brought the headmistress!  He who should had previously thought of as a Hufflepuff delight and possible heir to her mischevious ways was actually a snitch! And to snitch on his own house! It was abominable.

The accusation towards Trent was ridiculous.  "No!," she piped up, not wanting anyone to bear her punishment.  That was the whole point of not telling anyone although now she wished that maybe she had.  Fauna and Mysti probably would have talked her out of it.  

As Trent held her close, Darcy began to tremble, intimidated by the imposing adult presence yet in awe of her magical feat.  A beacon of pure light emitted from her wand, growing to form claws and the muzzle of a ferocious feline.  A cat emerged, one majestic but uncompromising.  It battled the fiery dragons and after a moment, Darcy's fear left as she watched the magical fight.  What spell could make such a thing possible?  The fire had escalated to a point that Darcy felt she could no longer claim it was her spell, it was some living, breathing entity that she had let escape and now another equal magic was being used to conquer it.  She recognized maybe one out of every few movements the Headmistress' wand made, but that was all.  All in all the work was quite awe-inspiring and Darcy couldn't help but hope she might learn something of the sort, maybe next year.

She barely noticed Figaro's retreat, so intent was she upon the glowing headmistress.  Trent was urging her to leave, but she wasn't listening, either.  Now that the fire was under control, her panic began to vanish as well.  Her mind had unfrozen and began to turn once more.  This was guerrila warfare, yes? War was officially declared.  This battle was won, but that was her intention--not so much to destroy but to frustrate.  To show up the headmistress and make her leave.  But she had to live to strike again. 

As her mind processed her thoughts, Darcy's limbs unlocked themselves from fear's chains.  Trent was already urging her, almost physically to leave, and at long last she heeded his instruction.  She made her way, sprinting to create a fair distance before turning back around to watch.  Enraptured by the utter coolness of the headmistress' spell, decidedly not the headmistress herself, Darcy found herself walking backwards to watch while still 'obeying.'  The air was noticeably cooler and Darcy found herself sticky from sweat.  "Come on, Fig," she cried, spotting the dash of yellow behind a suit of armor.  The only question now was how she would strike next.

There was a universal air of confusion in the students she passed as Tulojow slipped through the castle's front doors and ascended the steps to the first floor.  She'd slipped away for an hour to check on Akiva but, even in that span of time, it appeared chaos had managed to blossom and grow.  About two steps up, Tulojow spotted a tendril of smoke leak out from under the door to the first floor landing. 

"Get back!" she demanded to any of the students lingering on the staircase.  "Back to your houses, all of you, now!  See them back," she instructed the few prefects she could see in the vicinity. 

Her knee grated painfully, but she ignored it as she climbed the last few steps quickly and pulled the door open.  At the end of the hall, a cluster of students and the Headmistress was gathered around the door of the hospital wing while angry, writhing flames licked from the depths of the wing behind them. 

Gritting her teeth against the pain, she broke into a run.  Two of the students seemed to, already, be backing away from the flames but Figaro appeared transfixed with shock.   Her wand was in one hand as she reached the end of the hall, the other reached out to grasp Figaro by the shoulder and, forcibly, turn him away from the flames to look at her.  "Get to your common rooms," she told all of them, though her gaze was locked on Figaro.  "Now." 

With her wand raised, Tulojow stepped up next to Analiza Snark.  A blast of light erupted from her wand in the form of a large, slithering horned serpent.  The horned snake fell in line next to the cat to combat the flames. 

(Note: I'm assuming Ana's using a patronus to fight the fire - if that's a false assumption, let me know and I'll adjust)