AN: Uuuugggghhh! I don't know why this chapter was so hard to write! It's probably crappy as well, I tend to mix up how I write my stories when I spend an extended amount of time on just one of them. The flow is probably going to be like Godling Ascending instead of how it was in the beginning.

Tell me about scenes you can imagine happening in this story, please. I have a very vague idea of a story-line and how I'll end it so this is basically a WIP. I'm open for suggestions because quite frankly I need them.

The rumours and conspiracy theories that abounded when it was announced that DADA would be self study until further notice were fantastic. Her housemates that caught sight of her smug expression when they started wondering what happened to Umbridge jumped on her. They prodded her for details since they remembered that she had detention with the awful bitch the night before.

Marie didn't go into details but she did mention that she caught Umbridge red-handed doing something illegal. Theories on what was awful enough to get her kicked out of the school immediately were tossed about; Marie's favourite was the one including questionable charms on a magical creature. The entirety of breakfast was spent doling out little hints and laughing at conclusions people jumped to.

Making her way to her first class, Marie was walking on air. Not even Malfoy sneering at her from across the way could get her down. Wanting to make the most of her good mood, she fetched out her Seeing-Eye and set it to floating beside her.

"The ruddy hell is that?" asked Ron, giving the winged eyeball a dubious look.

The two of them were walking to Charms together. It would have been three or more of them usually but Dean and Seamus were still eating, Neville had to double back to get his textbook, and Hermione had left earlier because she wanted to ask Professor Vector about an Arithmancy project she had been working on before class.

"Didn't I show you before?" said Marie. "I'm assuming you know what film is with your dad so into muggle stuff, right? Well, Sally-Anne got this sent in from America. It's a magical camera that can convert the film into a form muggles can work with."

"Why would you want to do that? I thought your relatives didn't want anything to do with magic."

"Pfft. As if I'd do anything for them!" Marie waved the ridiculous notion off. "I'm doing this for Sally-Anne. I made some muggle friends over the summer and they have a band. To get publicity up, I've been told to film myself. They eat it up apparently."

"You're in a band?" Ron looked tickled. "What, going be the next Weird Sisters, are you? Merlin, can you even play an instrument?"

"Don't be thick, Ron, I'm their female vocalist. I do some dancing, sing when they need me to front, and look pretty for the cameras. Hush up now," she shot him a suppressing look. "I want to get in some footage in before class or Sally-Anne'll kick my arse."

Ron snorted. "Rubbish. I've seen Perks before; she's no bigger than you are. What's she gonna do?"

Marie waved her hand impatiently. "Shush!" She beckoned the Seeing-Eye closer. "What's up, Boneheads? It's your girl, Malice VI—"

"Malice VI?" Ron interrupted, ducking his head into frame and eyeballing the camera. "Who the soddin' hell is that?"

"Ron!" Marie groaned, smacking him on the shoulder. "I told you to shut up! Bloody fuck, I'm filming here!"

"Since when do you cuss? If Hermione heard you . . ."

"Yes, yes, death and damnation, now shut up!" She turned back to the camera and scowled. "Anyway. Here I am, off to class, dragging this tosser with me. This is Ron by the way, we've been best friends since we were eleven. Not that it should matter 'cause I already told him like a million times already to shut his ruddy trap."

Ron shrugged nonchalantly and smirked.

Marie huffed. "I thought you guys would like a view of the school I go to. It's super old. It's actually a castle if you can believe it." She directed the camera to point at the stone walkway they were going down and the open window they were passing, catching sight of the towers. "Yeah, hella cool or what? I lost my shit when I first saw it. It was built back in the Middle Ages — in the 900s, I think — you know, back when King Arthur and Merlin were prancing about. It's like traveling back into time; just walking to class makes me feel like I'm LARPing."

She brightened. "Oh! Update on that demon munter of a teacher I told you guys about before: I actually caught her up to no good! Her hand was in the cookie jar, her pants were around her ankles, we found her in flagrante delicto, and all those other euphemisms but without the smexeh-times.I won't tell you what she did, that would be telling, but know that she was cuffed and taken out before she even knew what was happening. Now, I know you lot will whip yourselves up into a frenzy if I leave it at that, so be assured that she did not release her inner pedobear nor did anyone get O.J. Simpson'd. Well, I got a bit scuffed, but it wasn't more than a scratch really and I basically did it to myself."

"Moving on!" she said when she saw Ron's incredulous look. "I was thinking of staging some solo MVs here at the school; the fantasy feel would kick arse, right? Maybe some Lady Gaga; a Judas cover would be epic if I used the dungeons. Hell, yeah, tricked out in leather, hanging from some chains, going all 'Judas, Juda-ah-ah!' It'll take some fast-talk to convince a teacher if I do want to try it, but I sure as hell won't let them hang around to see what's up.

"Of course, It'll probably take a while to get out because of the 'zero tech' policy here and the fact that all filming done will be done by my amateur hands; hopefully the boys backstage will be able to edit the shit out of it and make it worthy of views. What do you guys think? Tell me about it in the comments, yeah?"

Marie and Ron finally entered the Charms corridor. The classroom was in sight.

"I'm gonna have to cut this off now, guys, I'm almost to class right now. Sorry it's so short. I'll be mailing this out to my uploader today so by the time you guys see this vid, another one will be hot on it's trail. Give this video a thumbs up if you liked it, check out the link to our Facebook fanpage in the description box, and leave me a message in the comment section down below if you want to say something disgusting and shameful that your mother would be ashamed of." She laughed at the look on Ron's face. She blew a raspberry. "See-ya! Malice, signing out."

"Merlin, Marie," said Ron, pushing open the door. "I didn't understand half of what you said. You didn't even sound like yourself; you started talking like 'Dung."

Marie rolled her eyes at him. "I'd be surprised if you understood any more of it. I was speaking 'Muggle degenerate youth,' not a language you're familiar with."

"And now you're back to talking like you've been rolling in Galleons all your life."

They sat in their usual seats and waited for the rest of the class to show up. There was still a good ten minutes before lessons started and the classroom was only half full.

"Just because I talk clearly and politely doesn't mean I'm some uppity numpty, Ronald Weasley. I talk in a way that suits the situation. School is for proper language, interacting with band fans is for more laid-back gabbin'."

"You even did it mid-sentence," mutter Ron.

Marie stuck her tongue out at him.

Hermione hadn't said much since their discussion about house-elves. She had been subdued for days. Marie would readily admit that she had let herself get worked up in a way that was completely unnecessary for the situation. She hadn't needed to all but slam the other girl's head into the table with her opinions even though her rant had been a long time in coming.

House-elves had been Hermione's schtick since the year before, and she had thrown herself into her crusade with pious fervour; she believed absolutely that what she was doing was right and she was determined that the right thing would be done. She was admirable in her conviction. The only challenge in the situation was that Hermione didn't understand why others didn't share her convictions or didn't devote as much energy into it if they did. She didn't understand that outside opinions could have just as valid research and thought put into them as hers.

It was not malicious intent that had Hermione urging her plans and actions on others. Yes, she came to believe that she was the one with the best answers, but it was because of that that she tried ever so hard to give those best answers to other people. She wanted to help others and what better way to help them than to give them the best way to do things? Marie understood that, likely better than anyone else besides Hermione's parents, but that didn't mean Marie wasn't bothered when her own thoughts and suggestions were steamrolled over.

The mess with freeing house-elves wasn't as straightforward as Hermione thought it was. Hermione couldn't conceive a situation where one could consider it better to keep things as they were than to brave the unknown; she didn't understand that freedom didn't always make up for being homeless with no prospects. She had never been a poorly treated child whose position in the household was always uncertain, so naturally she wouldn't understand why a house-elf — Winky for example — would want to stay with those who treated her — at best — like an unwanted step-child re-purposed as a servant. She didn't know the never-ending fear of abandonment that any child not naturally born into a family had; that was the fear that lived in every house-elf's heart, no matter how well treated.

If Hermione wanted better lives for house-elves, she needed to start small before working her way up. Setting them all free was a sweet aspiration but it really wasn't practical. On top of being homeless with no prospects as Marie had told the other girl, there wasn't a support system in place for them. None of the elves were mentally ready to be independent from masters; they couldn't conceive living without a wizard to take responsibility for them. Maybe that was the reason even the oldest of house-elves seemed so childlike in their interactions, they had never been treated as responsible adults so they never 'grew up.' Setting them free would have to be a long-term goal if Hermione really wanted to stick to it, but educating them on independent living and setting up a fall-back system for those that relapse should take priority.

Now that Marie thought on it, Hogwarts was rather like an enormous orphanage for house-elves; they were given means to sustain themselves while not actually having families of their own. Thinking about it this way made it all the more understandable why Tilly — the elf Dobby had mentioned to night of her detention — had burst into tears at the sight of the mitten Hermione tried to sneak into their possession. Not having a family and then being that told she wasn't wanted in her refuge likely cut her deeply.

Marie stood at the feet of her friend's bed as the other girl put on her shoes. It was the weekend and they had nothing planned; the day was completely wide open.

"Hermione?" said Marie, taking care to speak softly to not startled the girl who was thinking deeply.

Hermione jolted and looked up. "Yes?" Her voice was vague.

"I was thinking about seeing how Winky's doing. Dobby says she's still sad but she's getting a little better. Would you like to come with me?"

Hermione cast her eyes downward. "Would she even want to talk to me? I did say uncomplimentary things about Mr. Crouch."

Marie hummed. "True. But maybe if you ask her about what she liked about living with the Crouches it'll cheer her up."

Hermione thought about it for a moment. She looked up and smiled wryly. "I'd love to go."

Angelina took the disappearance of Umbridge as Marie's way of ensuring she would be there for the tryouts on Friday. The older girl had clapped Marie on the back when she saw Marie during lunch and praised her for creative problem-solving.

"Not the route I was thinking of," said Angelina, a delighted grin on her face. "But it got the job done and now we don't have to worry about anymore detentions coming from that front!"

It appeared that the obsessive nature of the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain was somehow an inherent part of the position; Angelina had never been so focused on the sport until she was granted the position just this year. Who knows? Maybe Oliver had been a laid-back dude before he took over the team . . . On second thought, Marie doubted that. Oliver wouldn't be Oliver if he wasn't foaming at the mouth.

Marie wasn't sure why she was obligated to be at the tryouts when she had nothing to do with playing Keeper. It wasn't like her position was in danger of being taken away from her, she was still the best Seeker in Gryffindor. And even if they were adding reserves to the team, it wasn't like the starting Seeker was needed to know how effective another would be. She had thought about bringing these thoughts up with Angelina but she didn't want her head bitten off again.

So on Friday, Marie showed up to the Pitch on time as was expected of her and proceeded to do absolutely nothing as a position she had absolutely no interest in was attempted to be filled. She was sitting in the stands with Hermione at her side as a handful of hopefuls — Ron included — set about going through testing drills and took turns protecting the goals as the Chasers tossed Quaffles at them.

If anyone asked, it was far more excitement than she could handle.

"So, wake me up when it's all over," Marie hummed to herself as her eyes remained on the fliers. She sighed. "When I'm wiser and I'm older."

Really, it wasn't that she thought being Keeper was unimportant, it was just that there wasn't enough flying action accompanying it for her tastes. There were so many things she could be doing instead right now! Like — like . . . um . . . doing homework! (No, scratch that, fuck homework.) Or baking a cake. Or learning to how to knit. Or maybe —

Marie tossed her leg over the railing and draped herself across it. As she eyed the hopefuls idly, she addressed Hermione: "Do you think anyone'll notice if I dress up a broom in my cloak and hat and leave it in my place while I go talk to Professor Flitwick?"

Hermione did not hesitate. "Yes." Then, after a few seconds of processing what Marie had just said, she pulled Marie back from the railing and asked, "What do you want to talk to him about?"

Marie shrugged and stretched herself across Hermione's lap. "I was thinking about starting some sort of Dueling Club like that Lockhart ponce failed at, except less dueling for sport and more defending against attacks. You know, so when everything finally goes to hell in a hand-basket, we won't be complete sitting ducks. Maybe have parts where we focus on exam material as well. The only part Unhinged had right was the fact that our education's been pretty spotty."

Hermione brightened. "Oh, so like a study group that focuses on practicals as well?"

Marie thought about it. "Yeah, you could say that. That would be a good way to sell it to Flitwick as well."

"But why Professor Flitwick? Professor McGonagall is the one that approves the creation of clubs."

"I was thinking of asking him to be club adviser, you know? Since he's been on the professional circuit, and everything. He'll probably know lots of cool tricks that would make dueling easier."

Hermione agreed that such a club would be a good idea and immediately started outlining how meetings would work and how they'd schedule what they would learn. By the time tryouts were over, both girls were ready to snatch up Ron and hop off to find Flitwick.

"But Angelina hasn't announced who made Keeper yet!" Ron protested when the girls jumped on him.

Marie rolled her eyes. "Oi, Angie!" she called to the Captain still scribbling on a sheet of parchment. When she looked up, Marie asked, "Yes or no question: did this prat here make the team?"

The rest of the hopefuls perked up; they had been too nervous to outright ask lest it counted against them.

Angelina glanced at her sheet and gave Marie a thumbs up. A round of groans went up.

"There, you see?" Marie said to the grinning Ron. She waved at the rest of the team as she and Hermione dragged their friend away. "See you lot later, we have a pressing engagement."

"There's a practice at two tomorrow!" Angelina called after them.

"Yeah, no worries, we'll be there!"

"MARION LILIANA POTTER!" came the screeching voice of Sally-Anne as the Howler she had sent to Marie exploded in Marie's oatmeal. "HOW DARE YOU DO SUCH A THING TO ME?! JUST WAIT UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU, YOU PO-FACED PLONKER!"

Heads turned, conversations were stopped, food was paused on its way into mouths. A violently red letter was trembling with outrage as it danced in mid-air in front of Marie who didn't know what else to do but gape.

"In any other case, I might have thanked you," the Howler continued in a controlled manner not common to Howlers. It didn't last of course. "But I SURE AS HELL DON'T APPRECIATE IT WHEN YOU PUT ME IN A SITUATION WHERE I HAVE TO EXPLAIN TO MY HISTORY PROFESSOR WHY I HAVE HOMOEROTICA IN MY SCHOOL BAG!"

A burst of startled laughter escaped from Marie and she collapsed over the table, convulsing in hilarity. She pounded the table.

"I KNOW YOU'RE LAUGHING YOUR GUTS UP, YOU SLAG! DO YOU KNOW HOW COMPLETELY UNSEXY THAT MAN IS? HE'S MY GRANDDAD'S AGE AND HAS A PEDO-STACHE! I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT SLASHY GOODNESS WITH HIM; IT WAS SO SQUICK!

"AND DON'T YOU EVEN TRY TO DENY IT WAS YOU, ONLY YOUR OWL IS SMART ENOUGH TO SOMEHOW SNEAK INTO MY BAG AND GET OUT WITHOUT GETTING CAUGHT, AND ONLY YOU HAVE THE SODDING GALL TO TELL HER TO DO SO! I WOULDN'T EVEN BE SURPRISED IF YOU ORCHESTRATED THE WHOLE THING! DID YOU KNOW ONE OF YOUR COUSIN'S GORMLESS GOONS TOOK IT OUT OF MY BAG? HE THOUGHT IT WAS MY DIARY AND STARTED READING IT OUT LOUD! IN THE MIDDLE OF CLASS!"

A burst of hysterical laughter crossed with sobbing came from the Howler. When it started up again, it was quieter, shaking with laughter. "The look on Malcolm Prescott's face will be one I'll treasure 'til the day I die. I wish I had my phone with me so I could have recorded it!"

The Howler appeared to collect itself and continued speaking in what would have been a normal talking voice if it wasn't for the amplifying charm built-in. "You're bloody lucky I only got off with a stern lecture; if I had been sent to the principal or had a note sent home, I would strangle you with my bare hands! And future correspondence is to be sent to my house, in my room, or we are no longer friends. And don't doubt for a second I won't get you back for this, Marie! Expect the unexpected and sleep with one eye open; I will get you when you least expect it!"

Finishing off its bold declaration, the Howler rip itself to shreds and rained confetti on Marie's now soggy breakfast.

Not acknowledging the wide-eyed looks sent in her direction, Marie wiped the tears of glee from her eyes and sighed the sigh one gives after having a good laugh. She saw that there was another letter waiting innocently next to her bowl and immediately opened it. Inside, Sally-Anne had written another letter, one that she likely wrote before the Howler because it wasn't resentful in the least bit:

Hey, ho,

Here are some more songs to work on. The Seeing-Eye can play music by eating CDs so just feed this one to it. Wasteful as fuck, I know. You can make it blast the music out loud by just telling it what song you want but if you want to listen to it by yourself, it comes with a privacy warding. Just poke it under its left wing.

I expect at least an hour of footage to work with!

Sally-Anne

Inside the envelope with the letter was a burned CD.

"Well, that's one way to start the day."

"Bloody hell," whispered Ron, freckles standing out on his pale face.

AN: Don't even bother telling me how much it sucks because I already know. It's short, it's sloppy, it's feels like a filler, and it just isn't as good as any of the previous chapters. I KNOW. Please don't make me feel even worse by pointing it out.

Hate to say it, ya'll, but I might just trash this story. It started as a series of daydreams about how a cool tech-savy fem!Harry might go about her business but I just don't know if I'll be able to do it justice. All my imaginings involve musical numbers and that doesn't translate well to written word. If you could see what I see when I think about this story, you would be awed by the coolness; unfortunately, it's damn hard to communicate it in words. I hope I can forge through it though, since I have some strong dialogue waiting for the right moment to appear.