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"Not again!" sighed an exasperated Hufflepuff amid the crowd gathered just outside the doors of the Great Hall.

Darcy Harris dodged an incoming curse. That one had looked particularly nasty. She grinned as she responded with a bellowed "Tarantallegra"! She started to laugh as Oliver Wood's legs started to dance uncontrollably without his permission. Other Slytherins around her egged her on. Uttering "Finite" to end his dance the Quidditch captain retaliated with "Locomotor Mortis" wherein Darcy's legs locked together and she fell to her knees on the flagstone floor. At this many of the on-looking Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws and Gryffindors cheered loudly to see a Slytherin brought down. Darcy quickly muttered the counter-curse to unlock her legs and regained her footing.

Wood had this coming, thought Darcy. She and Wood had bumped into each other in the entrance to the Great Hall on their way to the third feast of the new school year. She sneered at him and was about to go to her table when some lower-year Ravenclaw had inadvertently given her a bit of a shove, eager to get to his supper. Turning and seeing Wood directly behind her, Darcy figured he had been the culprit. Curse words were traded between the two quickly followed by actual curses and hexes. At first Oliver had been determined to take the high road and ignore her taunts but her first curse had destroyed that determination. A circle of onlookers had formed around the Gryffindor and the Slytherin and had rapidly grown to include all four houses.

Although it was only the third day of term, this was by no means an exceptional event. Duels and skirmishes between the two had been commonplace throughout their first six years at Hogwarts. Despite Oliver Wood's attempts at indifference and rational thought, Darcy Harris always had a way of provoking him into a fight.

They had met six years ago on their first day of classes at Hogwarts; a double Potions lesson attended by Slytherins and Gryffindors. As part of a pureblood family, Oliver had been informed about the rivalry between the two houses by his parents but was determined to be likeable to everyone. He had been sitting with his house partner; Darcy was across the aisle to his right. She caught him looking at her and tilted her head in the most coquettish way an eleven year old could. She was pretty and she knew it. She had often been praised for her long, dark red hair and bright green eyes. Oliver gave her a smile that often resulted in pinched cheeks at family gatherings. Snape, who had been having a particularly bad day, had been giving them his start of term lecture, stalking between the rows of desks. Oliver knew he should have been paying attention but the pretty girl next to him was so much more appealing than the hook-nosed potions master.

He leaned across the aisle and whispered, "I'm Oliver Wood. What's your name?"

"Darcy Harris," she whispered back, "You're a Gryffindor, right?"

Oliver hesitated as he eyed Snape's progress through the dungeon. He was getting closer.

"Come on, you can tell me!" Darcy urged, also noting with satisfaction that Snape was nearing them.

Oliver was about to answer her when he noticed the classroom was oddly quiet. He looked up to see that Snape was glaring down at him with his black eyes.

"If you must persist in ogling Miss Harris I suggest you do it outside of my class," Snape said in his slow drawl.

"I wasn't ogling professor, honestly!" Oliver told him in fear.

"I wouldn't advise contradicting a professor on your first day of class," said Snape, "Especially when you are contradicting the obvious."

Oliver saw Darcy snigger to her friend beside her.

"Is Mr. Wood bothering you, Miss Harris?" Snape asked Darcy.

"Yes professor, I was trying to listen to your lecture but this boy was talking," Darcy gave a convincing - yet completely false - upset look. Snape almost managed a grin.

Snape rounded on Oliver again. "Let this be an example to all your fellow Gryffindor classmates on how to behave in my classroom: twenty points from Gryffindor for failing to pay attention." The potions master felt his bad day get just a bit better.

There was a collective gasp from the house in question while the Slytherins all sneered or laughed quietly but none so prominently as Darcy. He heard her mutter 'Stupid Gryffindors. I bet he's a Muggle-born' to her partner. Oliver felt betrayed by the smug red-head but also angry that she had let him take the blame and then had the audacity to laugh at him for getting him in trouble. That was how Darcy had become one of the most notoriously disliked Slytherins of their year (and a hero to her house) and how Oliver had become a martyr for Gryffindor. They had had the same wonderful relationship ever since.

Out of the corner of her eye Darcy saw that Marcus Flint had shoved his way to the front of the audience and had drawn his wand.

"No Flint! He's mine!" Darcy snarled.

Flint, pulling a face as close to a pout as he could manage, sheathed his wand and stepped back but kept giving Darcy new and inventive ideas for hexes to aim at Oliver as well as creative places to point her wand.

Oliver saw her distraction and aimed a "Stupefy" at her as she dodged it. A second year Ravenclaw boy who had foolishly stood behind her got hit and would have crumpled to the floor had other students not caught him. Darcy smelt burning hair and looked down to find that a good-sized lock of her prized red hair was lying on the stones; it had been singed off by Oliver's Stunning Spell. Outraged and slightly impressed that Wood had actually sent such a vicious spell at her, she was too late to duck an "Expelliarmus" as her wand flew from her hand and out of the ring of observers.

Infuriated but not quite defenceless – she still had her fists – Darcy hurtled towards Oliver and readied herself for impact, preferably in a painful way. Just as she collided with him, Oliver cried "Historia Preferentum."

A blast of electric purple light engulfed the duelling pair and hit Darcy full force just as she had grasped the front of Oliver's robes. The two felt a sort of jolt behind the navel akin to that induced by a portkey only several times more painful as if an invisible hand was trying to rip out their innards from behind. There was a feeling of their feet leaving the ground accompanied by the dizzying swirl of purple light and wind whipping past their faces, almost like hundreds of Firebolts whizzing around them. Darcy squinted, grabbing another fistful of Oliver's robes with her other hand, and buried her face in Oliver's shoulder to shield herself from her own hair that was thrashing about her head. She hoped it was whipping Oliver in the face.

Their feet hit the ground with such sudden force that their knees buckled and they fell to the ground. Darcy first noted the cold, wet cobblestone beneath her. She then heard something that sounded suspiciously like horseshoes clopping. Trying to steady her racing heart she took several deep breaths. She realized she had Oliver's robes in a death grip so she pried her seized fingers away and gave Oliver a bit of a shove out of her personal space. Moving the curtain of hair from in front of her face, she looked up slowly. By the lighting, she guessed it was either dawn or dusk. It was dark and smelled vaguely of smoke and damp earth. They were in a narrow alley flanked by high brick walls.

From beside her Darcy heard a moan. She looked over to see a dizzy Oliver Wood.

"What the hell?" he mused, sitting up and rubbing his head.

"Wood. Welcome back to the world of the living," Darcy drawled, "Wherever we are. Where in Merlin's name did you send us?"

"Send us? I didn't send us anywhere," Oliver stated, confused.

"Well this isn't bloody Hogwarts!"

Oliver got up and steadied his spinning head by placing a hand on the brick wall. He started walking towards the light at the end of the alley stumbling on the uneven stones beneath him. Darcy watched him from her spot on the ground. She saw him peer out of the mouth of the alley and look both ways. He calmly turned around and walked back to her.

"Well?" Darcy demanded impatiently, wondering what he had seen.

Oliver, pale-faced with a blank look in his eyes, stayed silent and pointed to the alley, indicating that Darcy should go and look. She made her way to the end of the alley and her eyes went wide at what she saw.

A/N: Hey, reader! Welcome to the story! I truly hope you enjoy this story. As you read its contents, please bear in mind that I started this story when I was 16 years old and some of it is not up to my current standards. A decade later, I have finally finished it! (This is why I don't post a story until it's finished.) I'd be so grateful if you'd review! Even if it's just a few words to say if you like it or if you don't.

Now for the legal disclaimer:

I have no claim on the character of Oliver Wood. He is the property of J.K. Rowling and was played by the talented Sean Biggerstaff. I have borrowed him for my story and I hope I do him justice.

I have also borrowed all spells and some elements from the Harry Potter books, again the property of J.K. Rowling.

I have no affiliation with the Harris family who are a real family of the British Peerage. All facts about the Harris family are true to the extent of my research and if any member of the Harris family should stumble upon this story, I hope they'll be pleased.

Darcy is, in fact, my own creation and is not a part of the actual Harris family.