Talking about how she got the Marauder's Map, Ginny instantly brightened, eyes dancing with mischief. She was clearly very pleased with herself.
"Fred and George, tsk, you will not believe it. They both fancy Angelina. No, not just fancy, they have actually started writing love letters."
"So you saw their letters and used the contents to threaten them?" Tom guessed.
Ginny nodded, then shook her head. "More or less. I did see the letters, but the point is not that I caught them writing. It is that..."
The girl burst out laughing, rocking with mirth. If she had been holding a bouquet, the stems would be trembling. With this little tablet in hand, well, it cannot exactly sway.
"It is that the letters were stitched together, one line from George, one line from Fred. I saw them in the library scratching their heads, spending ages to come up with a single sentence.
"So whose love letter is it, then? If Angelina sees it and agrees, who exactly is she agreeing to?"
"Piecing a letter?" Tom blinked.
Fred and George really were something. Maybe they are so used to trading lines when they talk that each can only manage one sentence, and without the other picking up the next line they cannot think of what follows.
That will never do.
They might as well get used to it now. A few years from now they will have to get used to it anyway.
"So, if they wanted to keep any face at school, they had no choice but to hand me the Marauder's Map."
"Truly filial," Tom ruffled Ginny's hair. "Having a sister like you is the Weasley family's good fortune."
"Obviously." Ginny failed to hear what was off about that and grew even more smug. Luna, usually blank-faced, tugged the corner of her mouth, worried for her friend's intelligence.
"Tom, do you know how hard I have been working lately?"
Ginny's little face fell as she began to complain. "To help you get that blasted map, I followed George and Fred every spare minute. I have not even had time to hang out with Luna. Ask Luna if you do not believe me, she is already upset with me."
"No," Luna shook her head earnestly. "I would not be upset with you, Ginny."
Ginny:
...
Touching as Luna's words were, Ginny was in the middle of playing the pitiful card for a reward.
"Even if Luna does not mind, I still feel guilty."
Ginny forced the conversation back on track. Tom slanted her a look. "So what do you want?"
"Mm, mm!"
What he sent did not matter. She only wanted to know whether Tom would agree. This was about attitude.
"Alright."
To Ginny's surprise, Tom not only agreed, he agreed readily.
"You are not tricking me?" The girl leaned forward, almost disbelieving, and asked for confirmation.
"Why would I trick you?" Tom tapped her on the forehead and nudged the little head away. "But I am busy these days. I will give you your reward in a few days."
He himself had been so busy he had nearly forgotten about the Marauder's Map. Ginny had not forgotten at all. For that alone she deserved a reward.
"Deal, no take backs." Having secured the promise, the girl was delighted. She tugged her best friend by the hand and skipped away.
Tom looked at the parchment in his hand and prepared to go back and study it.
...
Meanwhile, on the fourth floor.
Professor McGonagall had finished marking the first batch of papers. In much better spirits, she planned to head to the Great Hall for something to eat.
As she worked through the papers, she felt the benefits of frequent exams. With more tests, there is no fear of missing a topic. In a month students learn only so much, so everything can be covered. A midterm can then place emphasis, strengthening key points. Every kind of exam has its own purpose. It really is as Tom said. Increasing the frequency of exams helps students reinforce their memory again and again, leading to a solid final result, and they will not forget everything the moment the test ends. Something will always stick.
Professor McGonagall felt a touch of regret. Tom had such insight into education. If he were a bit older, she would have kept him on as a teacher.
Suddenly, a low growl and a cry of pain reached her ears. Her expression changed. She listened, pinpointed the direction, and at last fixed on a classroom. The closer she came, the clearer the sounds became.
"Potter! You wimp! Scarhead! Open your eyes, you blind idiot. Oi, my bits, you are hitting below the belt!"
Professor McGonagall pushed the door open and her eyes stung at the sight.
Malfoy and Potter were tangled on the floor, grappling. Malfoy was clawing at Harry's scar, letting out a shrill, silvery laugh. Harry aimed low, and the laugh turned into an exquisite howl of agony.
"What are you two doing?"
Professor McGonagall was shocked and furious. Students brawling in a classroom, and fighting this filthily?
Her stern, blazing voice made both boys flinch. Seeing the old cat's fiery stare, they scrambled apart and lurched to their feet.
The skin around Harry's scar was red, as if someone had pinched it hard. Malfoy was hunched over, sucking in cold air through his teeth.
"Very good, very good..." Professor McGonagall's body trembled, her voice shaking with anger. "You think I cannot manage you because it is the holidays? Then I will make sure you have no holiday at all."
"No, Professor!" Harry rushed to defend himself. "Professor, did you forget, you approved me to use a classroom to practice magic, I was just..."
"You call that practicing magic?" Professor McGonagall stared at him in disbelief, disappointment overflowing in her eyes.
Harry Potter used to cause trouble from time to time, but he had not been this sophistic.
"Professor McGonagall," Malfoy spoke through the pain. Rarely, he stood on the same side as Harry. "Potter is not lying to you. We really were practicing, we just..."
As the two of them explained, one sentence from each in turn, the full picture slowly came into focus, and Professor McGonagall's expression eased a little.
In short, they had started by practicing magic in a perfectly proper way. Then someone made a snide remark, and the other answered back. Very quickly, trading barbs turned into...
A brawl.