Harry Potter's revenge.

Yours, Lord Slytherin, Heiress Greengrass, and Miss Granger.

The ink was neon pink and surrounded by sticker stars, rainbows, and smiley faces. Two charmed unicorns in silver ink frolicked with each other at the bottom of the parchment.

Dumbledore chuckled darkly. If Slytherin thought he could get to him by rubbing his face in the fact that he'd delegated correspondence with him to a pair of eleven and twelve year old girls, then he was sorely mistaken.

Not that he wasn't a little annoyed, but he was far more concerned about losing his potions master during a critical time for his project of goading a confrontation between Harry Potter and Voldemort.

That and he hadn't seen Fawkes since the previous night and he was starting to get worried. While phoenixes had a kind of limited immortality, that didn't mean they couldn't be seriously inconvenienced. He knew that better than most.

He looked back down at the parchment in his hands. Well, if Slytherin wanted to play games, he was more than capable of reciprocating. After all, he had his own reputation as an eccentric old man to keep up.

For Harry, most of the rest of the day had been reasonably normal, but the next morning, he made his way down to the Hogwarts great hall for breakfast, his mind whirring.

Late last night, Daphne had slipped him a message. Apparently, Padma Patil had been asked by her father to send him her memory of the fight with the troll. Mister Patil was so proud of her daughter, he'd invited all his friends and acquaintances around to show them. Copies of the memory had then spread throughout a good chunk of the more well-off adults of the wizarding world, all apparently equal measures shocked and amazed that four first-year witches had gone toe to toe with a full grown mountain troll before it was finished off by a ridiculously powerful, but equally foolish boy-who-lived.

Although there were no known pensieves among the Hogwarts students, rumours had spread throughout the castle yesterday like fiendfyre, and the four witches were being heralded as Heroines and Troll Slayers. Opinion was split on his brother, with half thinking him a hero for 'saving' the girls and the other half thinking him a rash idiot for jumping into a trolls grabbing range when the beast was already immobilised. Harry sat down and picked up a discarded copy of the Daily Prophet. Sure enough, there on the front page was a photograph lifted from Padma's memory. It showed a particularly dramatic part of the battle when the troll threw a rock straight at Daphne, who was leaping towards the troll, conjured sword in hand, protected by a shield cast by Lisa Turpin. Hermione was ducking under the other troll's arm swing and Sophie and Padma were diving for the bathroom door.

Other pictures showed Daphne and Hermione plunging their twin swords into the monster's legs, Hermione's diffindos shattering the troll's club and freeing Padma from the troll's grasp, and Padma sliding through the troll's legs, casting a shrinking charm on the brute's shorts as she went.

Finally, one picture showed John Potter jumping on a mostly immobile troll and blasting its head off, sending both troll and boy to the floor.

By the time he'd finished reading the article, the hall had filled and Dumbledore got to his feet. The man cleared his throat and the hall quietened.

"I have a few announcements to make before you all head off to classes." The headmaster's eyes skimmed the four tables. "Firstly, as many of you may have noticed, our resident potions master is not currently with us. He has unfortunately suffered an accident and will not be with us for a while."

A few people clapped and cheered but were quickly shushed.

"Until Professor Snape returns, therefore, I shall be teaching potions classes with the aid of several upper year prefects."

An excited murmuring filled the hall. Harry swore under his breath.

"Next, in a totally unrelated incident to do with a rather large troll, Miss Granger, Miss Greengrass, Miss Padma Patil, Miss Turpin, and Mister John Potter have each earned twenty-five points for their respective houses."

Whispers and cheers spread throughout the hall.

"And finally," Dumbledore continued, in a voice that despite all impossibility seemed to twinkle as much as his eyes, "according to Lord Slytherin's request, I have decided to make the Bloody Baron the temporary head of Slytherin House." Harry wanted to brain himself on the table. The daft old bugger actually went for it.

The Bloody Baron hovered at the front of the Slytherin table, ghostly blood dripping off him, chains draped across his shoulders and arms, looking simultaneously more anticipatory and more sadistic than Harry thought he'd ever seen the apparition. The other ghosts didn't look happy. The rest of the hall looked nonplussed.

One Slytherin near him leant closer to another. "Can he do that?"

The other Slytherin shrugged.

Dumbledore waved a final hand. "And now, get to classes. Go on."

The students started to file out in pairs and groups. Harry followed them. The Bloody Baron as head of house wasn't ideal, but it was certainly better than some of the other options. He could work with it.

"Oi, Potter!"

Harry turned, almost out of the hall, to find Romulus Volf forcing his way over to him.

"Yes?"

Volf stopped next to him. "You know tryouts are soon, right?"

Oh yes, the duelling tryouts. Harry nodded. "Yes, two weeks away."

Volf nodded. "You know Granger went against that troll. You still sure you'll win? Nott's been at the club every week and I still don't think he can take the mudblood. You do still have a month to train."

Harry smirked. "I'm sure."

Volf scowled. "Because if you don't…" He made a fist and slammed it into the wall next to him. His scowl flashed into a wince.

Harry raised an eyebrow and looked at the fist, now slightly red. "So, you want some healing on that?"

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