Beta: Cloudy

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

With the power struggle (temporarily) over, I could offer them the carrot instead of the stick. After I had mercilessly crushed their expectations of being superior to me that lovely Saturday morning, I sent out a letter to Kreacher to prepare the carrot for the Slytherins. Kreacher was such a happy boy about being able to spend some money I collected as Enáretos in order to reward the Slytherins for their submission.

Come Sunday morning at breakfast there were more owls than usual that carried a couple dozen brooms.

Nimbus Two Thousand brooms, of course.

Said brooms were dropped off at our Quidditch player's sides with a note reading:

To my loyal subjects,

Your Queen.

There were gasps of envy from the Gryffindor table as the Slytherin Quidditch players ripped open the packaging for the brooms. One by one they shouted in surprise upon finding their gift which drew more stares over at the Slytherin table. As Slytherin's Captain, it was Marcus Flint who let out the loudest victorious shout when he found his broom. He held up his new broom like a trophy.

"TO OUR QUEEN!" he shouted.

"TO OUR QUEEN!" echoed the rest of the fanatic Quidditch players, each of them holding up their brooms. It was an uproar of approval. Even those not on the Slytherin Quidditch team joined in on the cheering. A few of them started to toss smug looks over at the envious Gryffindors who glared jealousy at the shiny new brooms.

Harry caught my eye from across the room and offered me a pitying look.

You had to bribe them? I could practically hear his disapproving tone.

Shut up. I do what I must. I stuck my tongue out at him, and he rolled his eyes.

The cheers of joy and jubilant taunting from my table was infectious. I couldn't resist smiling in return as I was surrounded by the elated Quidditch team who fervently thanked me.

"Now, now, dears, we shouldn't make too much of a scene," I said as I laughed. "Eat your breakfast first. Destroy the other teams later."

"Long live the queen," whispered Marcus Flint as he caressed his broom like a newborn.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Sunday evening I was on my way back to the dorm from the library when two red-haired twins popped up on either side of me. I offered the Weasley twins a wane smile. I kept up my pace, not faltering as my footsteps in the stone hallway were echoed by their own. I did assess them, half wondering if they were about to exact revenge on me for giving the Slytherin Quidditch team new brooms. The other half of me wondered what they wanted from me if not revenge.

I had hoped I'd get a chance to run into Harry at the library, but I didn't see my twin there. I'd need to set aside some time to check up on him and schedule when we should start our morning runs together. I didn't know what his actual schedule would end up looking like with Quidditch practice because duh, he'd obviously make the team.

The duo were cuties. They had the adorable freckles just over their noses and upper cheeks, the sparkling blue eyes, and the messy-yet-combed ginger hair. In my previous life I would have had a crush on them (assuming I was the same age as them, of course).

Being mentally adult made it impossible to find any children attractive. Only cute like flowers or puppies. I wanted to scoop them up in a big blanket, give them some warm lemon tea, and have a nice platonic cuddle fest.

God, I need a dog. Or a ragdoll cat.

I could get away with abruptly cuddling with Harry since we were twins, and he craved physical affection as much as I did. Doing it with two boys who thought of me as a stranger? Definitely not okay.

I bet if I had a fluffy animagus form I could get away with cuddling all sorts of people, I thought. I hope I can turn into a fox. Or a cat. Everyone wants to hold a cat.

The longer I stayed at Hogwarts the harder it was not to hug everyone.

I think I need to find Harry soon for some snuggles.

"What can I do for you two fine gentlemen this evening?" I inquired, trying to think about where I might run into Harry later. Maybe I could talk to him after potions. I gripped the books in my arms tighter against my chest. Iris stirred from her napping in my pocket robes. She poked her head out, peering up at the twins who hadn't noticed her yet.

"Word on the street is—"

"—a queen has appeared in Slytherin."

"A very generous queen," added the one on the right.

"One who gifted her entire Quidditch team with some fine brooms," concluded the one on the left.

I mockingly batted my eyelashes as I feigned ignorance. "My! Slytherin sure is lucky."

"Yet, this generous queen wouldn't do the same for her own twins' House Quidditch team," bemoaned the one on the right.

"We feel it is in our duty to help sort this out," insisted the other one.

"Odd that this queen's brother isn't asking for her help," I observed as I fought back a smile. It amused me that they would try such a blatant attempt at getting free brooms. I doubted either of them expected it to work. More than likely they would do an obligatory attempt so they could say: Well, we tried to ask nicely! We really had no choice but to put spiders in her food.

It's something I would do. Sirius wouldn't bother giving them a chance, he would skip straight to mayhem.

The twins were kinder than Sirius in that regard. I loved him, really I did, but he had a mean streak in him that even I couldn't break.

Not to mention I very much didn't believe for a second Harry would bring up the broom situation to anyone in his House. He had the savings to buy a couple of excellent brooms, but not much else. He had spent most of his allowance money on books, candies, toys, and practically everything Quidditch related.

We each had our money, and neither of us lectured the other how to spend it. Harry certainly wasn't going to start to do so now.

The twins gave me a Cheshire Cat grin.

"But," I said, endeared by their grins and presence, "the queen is generous enough she might be willing to grant a couple of favors."

The twins exaggerated a flourishing bow to her.

"How could we—"

"—earn such a favor?"

"Proper introductions first," I said. I placed both books in the air with a whispered Leviosa Maneat. Then I held out both my hands. "I am Rosaline Potter, but my friends call me Rosie."

"George Weasley," introduced the one on the left as he took my left hand.

"Fred Weasley," introduced the one on the right as he took my right hand.

Identical twins meant I couldn't visually tell them apart.

Magically was a whole other story.

I gripped their hands in a firm handshake as I felt their magic. Both were playful and coy, but George's magic was warmer while Fred's had more energy. I wouldn't be able to tell them apart without touching them for a while, but it was better than nothing. I committed the feeling of their magic to memory.

Withdrawing my hands I said, "I won't give the entire Gryffindor team new brooms, but you two are up for debate."

In synch, they frowned and raised an eyebrow at me.

Due to the fact that I was currying favor with Slytherin, I would never gift the entire Gryffindor team with new brooms—and enough extra brooms to train backups—but I was fond enough of the twins I'd be willing to toe the line. They were in my top five of beloved characters from the franchise, after all. Seeing them in person only emboldened my affection for them.

Why, you could even say I was a fan of theirs. I couldn't indulge my desire to randomly hug them, but surely I could support them without fuss?

Simply giving them gifts would draw suspicion. Worst case they would assume I had some kind of sneaky plan up my sleeve given my House. They might even take it as an insult if they perceived it as a charity. The only way to be able to support them without bruising their egos, or drawing unwanted attention would be to set up what they perceived as a mutually beneficial trade—and eventually partnership.

"I need a way to sneak in and out of Hogwarts without catching the eye of Filch. Such information is valuable enough to me that I'd be more than willing to spend a bit of my allowance," I told them with a smile. Which was definitely true. Sirius told me how to do it, but it wasn't like I had a map of the castle. "Deal?"

"Deal!"

"But, you both have to keep this deal between us," I warned them. "I can't have my fellow Slytherins finding out, now can I?"

They nodded in understanding, their smiles only stretching wider. Maybe they thought they could blackmail me. If they did, I'd have to start a pranking war with them. They might've had the map, but I had the cloak and the ability to sneak into their dorms when they slept.

Although, I thought quietly to myself as the twins cheerfully headed off, a pranking war with those two sounds absolutely delightful. Maybe another year. I have too much work to do for now.

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

Next Thursday it was time for flying lessons with both Gryffindor and Slytherin. Since taking my role as leader of the Slytherins I lead the group. Pansy Parkinson had been one of the more eager snakes to stay beside me at every opportunity. Her morning compliments were crude yet kinda adorable. Completely fake, but she was trying her darnedest and that's what made it cute.

I couldn't resist pinching her cheeks when she got too energetic in her flattery.

"Flattery is nice, but overdoing it makes you come across as insincere. You should reserve your compliments for the opportune moment," I coached her on the way to flying class. "Try to only flatter someone once a day."

"O-Once a day?" Pansy spluttered.

"And no insults outside the House for a month," I added as an afterthought. "From all of you. We need to change the Slytherin image and so far none of you have impressed me with your insults enough to justify using them. They're boring."

"What about Mudblood?" Vincent Crabbe asked, the child repeating the word without much thought.

I rolled my eyes. "That's the dullest one. Oh no! Mud! I'm so offended. It's been overdone, too. We need more creativity. Such as: apologize to your parents for being born a moron."

"That's brilliant," Pansy flattered me.

"That's your compliment of the day Pansy," I reminded her. She tsk'd under her breath, her expression darkening into annoyance.

Daphne Greengrass stepped past Pansy to take her place at my side. The pretty strawberry blonde slyly suggested, "What about: each breath you take is a waste of air?"

"Very good," I praised her. "Yes, these are the types of insults we should aspire to use instead of relying on one stereotype. We're better than that. On the weekends let's gather in the common room and practice our backhanded compliments and insults."

"Will we practice our flattery?" Pansy asked.

"But of course! Remember my dears: a proper Slytherin is silver-tongued like Salazar. That means we should be able to direct people to hell in such a way they will look forward to the trip."

The ten-year-old children clapped in excitement.

Little babeh snakes remind me of babeh ducks, I thought. I clenched my hands tightly into fists to keep myself from reaching out and starting to pet them. They all still had their baby fat on their cheeks so every time they smiled at me it took considerable restraint not to go awww.

At three in the afternoon, the Slytherins had arrived onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under our feet as we marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

There were twenty-one broomsticks lined up neatly on the ground and each Slytherin took a spot next to one. Draco had cleverly sped up past Daphne and Pansy to take the broom right next to me—as I had picked one on the end—and it warranted glares from both girls. He made a face at them in return.

The school brooms were... well they were certainly old. Worn down, rickety, and looked to be a solid gust of wind away from splintering. Frankly, I didn't feel wholly safe to use them.

The Gryffindors hurried out onto the ground half an hour later. Harry took a spot opposite of me—he cheerfully greeted me—and Hermione stood beside him. To my surprise, Ron was still nowhere near Harry. Judging from how Harry talked with Hermione and Neville it honestly looked like the classic trio might be no more.

My face screwed up at that thought. I didn't have my heart set on keeping this canonical, but it genuinely surprised me that Harry didn't bond with Ron again. Even without the train ride introduction, the two were dear friends originally.

But this Harry isn't the same Harry.

The Harry before me was a shy, quiet boy, and not naïve to the Wizarding world. He didn't lack confidence either. He knew what he wanted: adventure and books. Not necessarily in that order.

Hermione's friendship with him was expected. They were practically the only book-lovers in Gryffindor aside from Percy. Neville was a pleasant surprise, but I could understand it. Neville's demeanor likely made Harry feel at ease. Harry always preferred the calm boys at martial arts over the hyped up ones.

Still... I hope he can become friends with Ron in this life, too.

Ron was a boy who meant well. He had a lot of self-esteem issues that I worried would only grow worse if he didn't join Harry on adventures.

Or maybe not?

Maybe not being so close to Harry would prevent him from constantly comparing himself to Harry.

I also had to acknowledge that there might be one more reason Ron and Harry weren't bonding. Or, really, why I only saw Harry bonding with those two instead of the other boys in his year.

The reason being: me.

Slytherin had a reputation, and I knew that Ron had his own prejudice against the House coming in. If he had made any kind of remark against me being Slytherin to Harry...

I didn't have a lot of faith that Harry would be mature enough to forgive that.

Of course, all of that was merely speculation. Harry and I hadn't had a chance to privately talk since coming to Hogwarts. When I saw him, he seemed genuinely happy with Hermione and Neville so I didn't feel compelled to pressure him to talk to me.

As long as he was happy and healthy, there was no reason for me to interfere. Children had to learn how to deal with relationships—good and bad—through their own experiences. Or, er, that's what I was told during one stint in the pediatric ward.

He does look happy. Gosh my brother is the cutest when he smiles.

Indeed now Harry was smiling extra adorably at me. He gave me a little wave of hello which I returned.

The teacher, Madam Hooch, arrived before I could speak to him. She had short, gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone, stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.

I warily looked down at the school broom.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP!" everyone shouted.

My broom leaped into my hand at once, as did Harry's and Draco's. Hermione's had rolled over on the ground while Neville's hadn't moved at all.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. She eyed my grip. "You're gripping it like you're prepared to race against time, Miss Potter."

More like race against cops, I privately thought, correcting my grip.

The aurors had definitely been tailing some of my other heists. I had hung around under the invisibility cloak to see if I could pick up some information. As it turned out the use of my magic did not trigger the use of underage magic.

The Trace was applied to wands, and prior to that accidental magic only registered if a large enough of magic was used—like blowing up a human into a balloon. Alohomora did not count as accidental magic, neither did Wingardium Leviosa. Accio, on the other hand, did. It was powerful enough that it confused some aurors who had arrived as to why accidental magic had been registered at all.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle—three—two—"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle—twelve feet—twenty feet. Oh, the poor baby's horrified face just about melted my heart. Neville's let out a small whimper as he lost his grip and slipped sideways off the broom.

With reflexes that came from having almost accidentally dropped millions of pounds worth of artifacts (repeatedly), I raised a hand and levitated him straight to me. Instead of falling on the ground, he fell—er—stumbled into my arms.

"Careful now," I soothed the shaky boy. While his feet were on the ground his legs weren't working properly, so he fell down.

"How about you take a rest now Neville," Madam Hooch advised. "Come here, boy."

Gently, Madam Hooch helped Neville back to his feet and off to the side.

"Sit out this lesson," she told him. "Rest of you: on my whistle—three—two—one!"

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

The following Saturday morning at the Slytherin table we—and by we, I meant everyone in the House of Slytherin—was hard at work writing down creative insults that did not rely on the standard dull tropes like Mudblood. Only two insults per person and after dinner that night they were going to read them out loud and the House would vote on who had the wittiest one. The winner would be given a special prize—a choice between a cash prize, or the right to request their Queen to inflict wrath upon someone of their choice for an entire day.

Not only would it give the babeh snakes experience in the beautiful art of insults, but the winner would naturally become more fond of me when I gave them something of value.

Oh!

And the target of their insults for the first week?

Me.

A proper insult should be tailored for the person, after all.

Everyone would get a chance to be the focus of the insults. It was important to learn how to handle insults directed at oneself in addition to inflicting them. I knew from canon that certain Slytherins could be very hot-headed and that simply wouldn't do.

I was confident that a lot of the older students heavily resented me still, so it would also serve as a productive way to vent that anger.

I gulped down the last of those delicious scrambled eggs before I got up from my table. Draco and Daphne both moved to follow me, but I gestured for them to wait.

"Finish your food first," I chided them like a parent would a child. "I'll be right back."

With a skip in my step, I went up to the professor's table and stood across a grumpy Professor Snape.

"Good morning Professor Snape," I greeted.

Professor Snape lowered his newspaper and warily eyed me. "What do you want, Miss Potter?"

"As you may have heard we'll be having an insult night in the common room tonight," I said. "As a master of wit and insult, I believe everyone would learn ever so much from you if you would kindly take the time to come and insult me."

There was a pause. The other professors were looking over at me with incredulity. Dumbledore's eyes were extra twinkling in amusement. Professor Dumbledore couldn't seem to resist asking, "Miss Potter, are you requesting that Professor Snape insult you?"

"Yes. We're practicing our insults tonight," I explained. "The over-reliance on the, ah, m-word is appalling. Next weekend is backhanded compliments! Would you like to join us, Professor Dumbledore?"

"As thrilling as that sounds I'm afraid I'm somewhat lacking in the, ah, wondrous art of insults," Professor Dumbledore responded, his tone light and warm. "Thank you, though."

I nodded and turned back to Professor Snape with an expectant smile.

Professor Snape blearily stared at me as if I were a venomous creature about to bite. "If it is insisted upon."

"Oh, I do insist," I insisted.

"Very well. I will grant you the honor."

"Yay."

(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*

How Insulting Nights Worked:

I sat comfortably in the honorable Roasting Throne which was moved to the front of the common room. All before me were overly excited babeh snakes with giddy smiles and little giggles escaping them.

"Who shall go first?"

"Allow me to," Draco eagerly said, hopping up from his seat on the couch to stand before me. He made a grand motion of clearing his throat before he boldly declared, "Dementors would starve if they tried to kiss you."

"Ooooo."

I snapped several times, a big smile on my face. "Yes, beautiful. Snaps for Draco everyone."

The Slytherins snapped. We didn't clap. Clapping was for rambunctious Gryffindors. We were cool, so we snapped.

"A fine way to begin. Five points to Slytherin," Professor Snape praised quietly from his dark corner across the room.

Wow. If he's gonna start giving out points for good insults Dumbledore may not even be able to award Gryffindor the House Cup this year. Heck yeah.

ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

Answer: Potion practice & library. Honestly I would be so in love with magic I would be outrageously studious.

Question: Favorite ghost?