Dominique Weasley would never claim to be beautiful, not because she wasn't aware of the fact, but because it certainly wasn't going to win her any special treatment from Headmistress McGonagall.

In fact, she was fairly certain nothing could save her at this point, not even the mellowness of the Deputy Headmistress, Professor Sprout, who was sitting besides Professor McGonagall since she must have been there when the prefects came to fetch the Headmistress.

Professor Sprout was clearly waiting for Professor McGonagall to take the lead in the situation, a benevolent expression on her face.

The woman herself was peering at her over the tops of her glasses as they sat on opposite sides of the desk in her office, her fingertips pressed together where they rested on the smooth glass surface in front of her.

"Miss Weasley," she began, "let's not take part in the ridiculous charade in which we stare silently at one another in order to gain some kind of petty victory. Far more can be gained from concise honesty. And let me tell you now, both concisely and honestly, that depending on what you say here I will be forced to decide between detention for the foreseeable future, or expulsion. Now concisely and honestly explain to me what happened, so that I can return to discussing more important matters that need addressing before I retire to bed."

Dominique found her throat closing up, but she opened her mouth and forced words to exit, words she'd been rehearsing ever since Professor McGonagall had entered into the situation. "My brother tried out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team last Saturday, and didn't make the cut. The player that beat him to the position proceeded to verbally abuse him with multiple lies about Louie, his friends and his family, delivering language and ideas far too explicit for a twelve year old to handle. I found my brother walking the corridors close to curfew, where he had been looking for me for over three hours, and was clearly still upset. I handled the situation in the way I saw most rewarding to my family, however I see now that my behaviour was inappropriate, and that I should have handled it differently."

Professor McGonagall's lips were no longer thin, no matter the stern expression on her face, which Dominique took to be a good sign.

"What do you think you should have done differently?" the headmistress questioned.

"I should have waited until tomorrow and discussed it with the student in question then."

McGonagall's lips twitched, such a tiny movement that Dominique thought she might have imagined it. "No, Miss Weasley, you should have reported the situation to a teacher."

"Er, yes. That," agreed Dominique, looking down at her hands.

The headmistress sighed. "While I can empathise with the reasons behind your behaviour, you broke one of the most important rules of our school, and in doing so undermined the right of many Gryffindor students to feel at home and comfortable in their own common room, as well as creating a scene. I am under an obligation to the students here and their parents to have them feel safe and unthreatened during their time at Hogwarts, and especially while they are in the common rooms and dormitories that are supposed to be a place for them to relax and work without the fear of conflict from students in other Houses. You are a Ravenclaw, and breaking into Gryffindor tower undid centuries of tradition and showed complete disregard for the most important rule we have. I will not take points from your House, since it would be unfair to punish them so severely for your actions, however I have no choice but to give you five-hundred hours of detention."

Dominique gaped at the unprecedented length of the punishment, trying to mentally work out how many days that would take her to work off. Surely people in the past had done far worse and received less detention? Uncle George and his late twin brother had reportedly once emblazoned Professor McGonagall's face in place of each of the House mascots on the banners in the Great Hall, and it couldn't be corrected for days. Surely getting into a simple argument wasn't worth fifty times the punishment they'd gotten for that.

"You can do one or two hours every evening, I'll assign teachers, and you'll do as they request," continued Professor McGonagall. "It will take you longer than this year to finish, and so you will work into the next year, and the year after that if necessary."

"I-- Professor, this will affect my grades. I have OWLs next year, I can't--"

McGonagall shook her head. "The Gryffindor tower is a place of security for members of that House. You took that away from them. In addition to which you triggered powerful spells upon your intrusion which will be problematic and expensive to replace, and had you not entered with a member of Gryffindor right behind you they could have caused you serious harm. This is not a matter to be taken lightly, Miss Weasley, and I will have no complaints."

Dominique couldn't help but feel as though she had been dealt with far too harshly, but she wouldn't seek to argue with the living legend that was Professor McGonagall, so she merely nodded. "There is one thing though," she remembered. "I work in the thestral stables three nights a week, can I make up the time over my free lunches or...?"

The headmistress thought on it for a moment and nodded. "Yes, you may work during lunches as well if you wish. However your time assisting Professor Hagrid will also count towards your five-hundred hours. Now go get some rest, it is far later than I would have anticipated. Will you require time off lessons tomorrow?"

"No, Professor. Thank you, Professor. Have a nice night." She caught sight of the clock. "Uh, morning."

As she left the office, the vastness of the punishment she'd just been allocated loomed, but she supposed she should really be glad that the headmistress hadn't seen fit to expel her as the previous warning had laid out.

In spite of the early hour, Dominique didn't feel at all tired, still proud of her part that she had played in putting Roman Hurst firmly in his place, and happy beyond relief that Louie's eyes had been dancing again by the time she had finished. She wasn't eager to get to bed, however she didn't want to risk getting caught out after hours, that would honestly be the icing on the cake to this day, so she hurried quickly back to the Ravenclaw common room.

"What launches ships and shields the truth, as temporary as its wielder's youth?" asked the knocker.

Well that was just typical.

"Beauty," answered Dominique with a sigh, before correcting herself. "Outward beauty."

"Semantics can be important," the knocker praised as the entrance swung open, and didn't Dominique know it.

She made her way up the spiral staircase into the higher level of the common room, slightly in awe of the stars that were visible in panorama due to the unusually clear sky that night. So enraptured by the view, she didn't notice the girl sitting behind her until a pointed cough escaped into the silence of the otherwise empty room.

Keire Nott-Zabini was sitting surrounded by copious notes at one of the pale beechwood tables that were overshadowed by innumerable teak bookshelves, her feet propped up as she slouched into the back of the bench, a roll of parchment balanced on her knee and a quill poised to make adjustments.

Dominique squeaked as she spun around, a sound she was certain she could never seek to replicate, her heart rate increasing exponentially in a matter of seconds, and this earned her a smile that was almost mandatory, like Keire was showing amusement without actually feeling it.

"You're back well after curfew," the other girl observed. "Late night liaison? Or something more interesting?"

Dominique felt her jaw and lower cheeks flush at the insinuation, but she quickly shook her head. "No, not at all," she huffed out a small laugh for no reason other than to alleviate the slight vein of tension running through the conversation. "Actually I was helping Professor Hagrid with mucking out the stables, then I broke into Gryffindor tower, put Roman Hurst in his place, and now a have five-hundred hours of detention to work through. How about you?"

Keire's eyes widened with surprise that hinted admiration or at least amusement at the edges. "Something more interesting then," she decided. "I'm just getting some Transfiguration done."

"I thought you finished the next three weeks homework in the lesson already? Off curriculum stuff?"

Keire nodded, and Dominique sneaked a look at a few of the closed books perched on the edge of the desk.

An Analysis of Transfigurative Gastronomy and Why It Never Works; Garrett Shellrock.

Harpinger's Revised Alphabet of Transfiguration: Why The Fifteenth Character Should Be Replaced Post Haste; Finnula Walsh

Why Water Transcends Traditional Transfiguration And How To Combat This; Meredith Airbright

"Can I see?" asked Dominique curiously, peering at the densely packed scrolls that were pinned open on the desk, notes, adjustments and diagrams seeming to occupy every surface.

"You wouldn't understand it," replied Keire with conviction.

"Explain it to me. I mean, if you want to."

"I-- okay." Keire's usually aloof demeanour was all but non-existent as she leaned forwards eagerly, not bothering to hide her excited expression. "You can't tell anyone about this -- I mean it -- this isn't concrete, it's barely laid out and it's based off of a lot of theories that hadn't been verified, but I checked them all out myself and they're rigorous. I need to test it, a lot, and there's still a scary amount of calculations and assessments to complete, but theoretically its sound. I can't find a word or phrase that would channel the incantation so--"

"Keire," interjected Dominique. "What is it that you're trying to do?"

The girl's dark eyes glittered in the light of the moon and stars. "Gamp's law of elemental transfigurations. There were five exceptions. Now there are four. I-- I can create food."

Dominique stared into the depths of her dark eyes, eyes she had assumed were black but could now see that they were the darkest of brown with a band of amber that appeared yellow by contrast circling the pupil. Excitement pooled in her stomach, swept along in the current of Keire's intensity. It would be an understatement to describe the girl as excited, she was brimming with a motionless, compacted sort of energy, to the point that Dominique could well believe her life's work had miraculously concluded, which in a way it almost had.

The intensity abated a little as Keire returned her eyes to the parchment. "At least, once I figure out a way to successfully Transfigure water non-verbally I will have linked everything together. That bit's proving trickier than anticipated, but it's doable, I can do it. I'm so close."

Dominique ran her eyes over the notes lining the table with a new appreciation, catching mentions of ideas and references that she understood, but mostly unable to comprehend the way it linked together. If this was true, if Keire Nott-Zabini was in the process of transfiguring food... The implications were gargantuan.

A girl who was still a few days away from turning fifteen, and she had in her short life gotten to the brink of disproving one of the most widely accepted magical principles in the wizarding world, let alone under the subject of Transfiguration.

Dominique would offer to help in any way she could, she would beg Keire to explain as much of it as was possible to her, to just let her understand to a degree the beautifully reasoned solution to a problem that most witches and wizards had given up on ever solving.

But in the meantime the only question she could find herself asking was: "By Merlin's saggy left teat, how do you manage to sit through lessons of turning rodents into crockery?"