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A Lick of Sense

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"That is IT!"  Hermione Granger slammed her hands crashing down to either side of her plate, shoving herself up out of her seat.  All the other fourth years at the table -- except Harry, of course -- fell silent, their nasty not-so-little whispers cutting off as if Silencio'd, their sidelong glances at him all pinned openly on her now.

It had been a week since Halloween, since that horrible, horrible Goblet had spit out Harry's name, and perhaps it was that she hadn't slept well last night, or perhaps because it was her third week of the month and she'd lost all patience with the usual nonsense, or perhaps it was because Lavender and Parvati could not shut up and she had yet to get around the charms preventing silencing spells on the bedcurtains -- as if the faculty actually cared about bullying, it was quite evident they didn't --

Or perhaps it was that her best friend was being set up to die AGAIN and everybody was blaming him for it!

"I HAVE HAD IT!" she shouted, and silence spread like ripples in a pond over the entire school.  "I," she declared, with a certain distant rushing in her ears, "will prove that Harry did not put his name in the Goblet.  Immediately.  Professor Dumbledore," and the headmaster looked suddenly very old and small under his curiosity, up in his grand throne of a dining chair, "Please Transfigure a copy of the Goblet for everyone to see.  With all your security spells, of course."

"Vhat ees zis?" Madame Maxine demanded.  "Ze girl ees mad!"

"No, no," Karkaroff said, beady eyes gleaming as he leaned forward in his chair.  "The girl wishes to show us all how the Potter lad could've cheated his way in."  A pulse of incensed reddish haze licked at the edges of Hermione's vision.  "I'd like to see it."

The students began to murmur as Hermione dug a piece of parchment out of her schoolbag -- there was writing on it, probably schoolwork, she did not care -- and made her way up to the teachers' dais at the front of the Hall.  She could not feel the stone under her feet, could not feel her footsteps.

This had to work.  It just... it just had to.

Slowly, she tore the parchment into strips.

Goblet.  Plinth.  Age line.  Was that honestly all the Headmaster had done?  "Professors," she said, hollowly.  "Can you confirm these are the exact security arrangements and a reasonable copy of the Goblet?"

Only affirmative sounds.

All right then.

"It really should be you Ravenclaws up here demanding this."  She balled up the first strip of parchment, eyed the opening of the cup, and -- remembering gym classes in primary school, correct basketball form -- tossed it neatly inside.  

The Hall went starkly silent.  

"Shouldn't you have all been trying to figure out," Another strip balled up.  Another toss, this one underhand, "how Harry did it?"  The Age Line was ridiculous, it was barely three steps in radius, anybody could throw that far.  "Or is it only books that you're willing to study?"  Another strip.  She knelt to match a first-year's height.  Hole in one.  Nothing but net.  Whatever the terms were.

"For the record, a six-year-old Muggle could do that.  We're taught how to throw all through primary school."  Her voice echoed off the walls.  "Let's try some magical ways."

Wingardium Leviosa hovered the paper delicately into the cup.  Then Leviosa, more power and precision made it zip right in.  Something more obscure, maybe... but no, she'd made her point.

"Professor McGonagall."  Her Head of House had a stricken expression on her face, though the professors on either side still looked openly confused.  "Two questions.  One, would an Animagus pass that line?  And two, is there any restriction to what an Animagus can become -- perhaps in size or flight?"

The professor drew herself up, swallowing.  "The line," she said bravely, "only accounts for age, Miss Granger.  That particular spell doesn't take note of what shape the witch or wizard is in at the time.  And," she added, "an Animagus' form may be of any size and capable of flight."

"Although, all Animagi are registered."  Hermione turned her hard stare onto Dumbledore.  "No one has ever found an unregistered Animagus.  Perhaps it's something the Minstry monitors, something that gets automatically registered upon completion without the subject's input, just like underage magic.  No Muggleborn child has ever done accidental magic without an Obliviation and Magic Reversal Squad showing up."  She paused for a moment.  "Oh.  Wait.  I did.  Harry did.  Colin, Dennis, Justin... you know, I don't recall a single Muggleborn student whose accidents were noticed and fixed by the Ministry."

"But I digress.  I was told that Professor Dumbledore's first thought was that Harry asked an older student to put his name in," she announced.  "So that's clearly not protected against.  Anybody want to fess up?  No?"

Only a few of the seventh-years, at the far ends of the tables, could meet her eyes.  Victor, Cedric, Fleur, Angelina...

"And we all suppose Harry might have done it, late some night, when the Goblet was all alone, unguarded, unmonitored... because it was alone, unguarded, unmonitored."  The Weasley twins were grinning, all teeth and eyes like knives, because clearly, they had figured out her point that someone was trying to murder Harry.  "And of course, it's not as if there wasn't a fully grown adult out there, who snuck into the castle multiple times, trying to kill Harry Potter, just last year."

Stricken little gasps of 'Sirius Black!' went up all over the Hall.

Hermione caught Harry's eyes, glancing down apologetically, then met Dumbledore's.

You did not even think that it could've been a Death Eater like Wormtail sneaking into the castle.  You refused to defend him.  You refused, for the fourth year in a row, to do anything about the bullying and harrassment and all of this complete bullshite, not just for Harry, but for all of us.

Reap what you sow, Headmaster.

She tapped her wand to her throat.  "Sonorous," she murmured over the noise rising in the Great Hall.  "I see that, just as when I was a first-year, you, Professor Dumbledore, cannot put up protections that would deter a first-year, much less a fully grown adult.

"I learned then, Professor, that wizards haven't a lick of common sense.  Thank you," she glanced over her shoulder, "and thank you all, for proving that they haven't a lick of basic intelligence, either."

As the students all gasped in affront, she took one more long, cool look at the staff.  "You should all be ashamed of yourselves.  Professors.  Good day."

And she tossed her hair back and strode from the Hall, catching up Harry by the arm and dragging him out in her wake.