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ACT2CH31 - Warning Shots
🕑 Added 2023-06-07 18:26:20 +0000 UTCThe Defence Against The Dark Arts class was in session. Which, in Daphne-speak, meant that Umbridge was sitting upon her chair, busy sipping tea, while the rest of the class was sitting quietly and mindlessly droning over whatever new crap Slinkhard had to say about the subject. Tracey looked like she was about to burst a nerve, while Millie looked as bored as ever. Crabbe and Goyle were doodling over their books, while Malfoy was throwing dirty looks at the Gryffindor table.
And with due reason.
After all, it had been over a month since Harry Potter had come for DADA class. And Daphne knew that it wasn’t on a whim. Whatever her fiance was planning, it had to be big for him to willingly bear Umbridge’s presence.
After the way the first class had ended with Malfoy hurling Harry across the floor with a powerful kinetic spell, Harry had stopped attending the class. Then again, he intended to do exactly that, while also getting Malfoy suspended for two weeks. No doubt the stunt he pulled off in the quidditch game was some kind of revenge-stunt in the blonde ferret’s hormonal cesspool of a mind, as cunningly as it might have been implemented.
Something told Daphne that her fiance had something equally cunning in his mind, and Malfoy was getting jittery about a potential turnabout.
She glanced at Harry,who was sitting, interestingly, on the very first bench, bordering the Hufflepuffs. That alone was a cause for concern. The Harry would always choose to sit near the backbenches, shying away from the spotlight or the teacher’s attention as much as possible. It was like he believed that if he stayed out of the public eye, they would not notice him at all. The Harry Potter since the start of the term was slightly different. Daphne had watched him from the way he entered a room. His eyes would immediately scan the area for any blind spots and he’d take the occupants of the room one by one, analysing them. And then he’d sit on the far end of the line, as far away from the rest of the crowd as possible, with one side against the wall. It was like he was afraid of being struck from behind by a fellow student.
For him to sit on the first bench, and that too in the middle of the hall, bordering the Hufflepuffs and the rest of the Gryffindors practically screamed ‘setup’ to her.
Her gaze crawled around at the people sitting around him.
To his left, sat Susan Bones, with Megan Jones next to her. To his right, sat Granger, which was slightly surprising because he always sat with Ron Weasley. Speaking of Weasley, the ginger was seated right behind him, almost like a guard protecting Harry’s back from Longbottom. Behind Susan sat Abbott, Susan’s best friend and confidant. Even though he was sitting in the spotlight, Harry had ensured that he was surrounded by people he could reasonably trust.
He’s definitely planning something. But what?
She hadn’t gotten a chance to thank him. When she had opened her eyes this morning, Harry was gone. Instead, her sister and her father were sitting beside her. When asked about Harry’s whereabouts, Astoria had told her that no one knew where he was. Apparently the last that anyone had seen him was him walking away from the Quidditch pitch with a bandaged arm. With Malfoy catching the snitch, there were a lot of heated words thrown around within the Gryffindor team, especially by Cormac Mclaggen, the new Keeper. Ginny Weasley had been ferocious in her defence of Harry’s actions, but no one had really seen the Boy-Who-Lived since then.
And now, Harry was here, in DADA, assiduously reading the book before him. He was even underlining the text at places and making notes on the sidelines. And yet, nothing in his mannerisms spoke of any pretence whatsoever, so whatever he was reading must actually be worth that much diligent interest.
Then, he let out an exuberant sigh and sat back straight.
As if on cue, Granger perked into his book, and asked him, rather audibly.
“What are you reading?”
“Oh this?” asked Harry airily, not even trying to appear convincing. “Extreme Incantations.”
“Wait, isn’t that the original DADA textbook for OWLs?” asked Susan.
A murmur of surprise spread across both sides. Liars, hypocrites and sycophants, the lot of them. Even Weasley craned his neck to see what Harry was studying, and Weasley wouldn’t willingly open a book to save his life. If even a single one among Harry’s crowd wasn’t already aware of what was going on, Daphne would eat her book.
“My godfather told me that an Outstanding in DADA OWL is often enough to attempt for a Hit-Wizard internship,” said Harry. He flipped over to a particular page and exuberantly showed it to his ‘friends’. “He told me if one could silently cast even half of these spells, the internship was guaranteed.”
“Silent casting?” asked Ron. “Isn’t that supposed to be hard?”
“Not very,” said Susan. “You just need to get really, really familiar with the spell.”
“Your aunt is the DMLE Director, isn’t she?” asked Granger. “Did you tell her about us learning the theory and not casting spells for our OWLs?”
Daphne could have snorted. Even she couldn’t figure out how much of Granger’s expression was an act and how much of it was natural. Curious.
“It’s exactly what he said, Hermione,” said Susan. “You can get your Defense OWL based on whatever. But unless you can perform when it matters, the OWL means nothing.”
“Nothing?” sputtered Ernie Macmillan, who sat beside Hannah. Daphne hadn’t seen him pay attention to the conversation. Or maybe, he was? “Are you serious?” Before Susan could even respond, Macmillan craned his neck towards the Ravenclaw benches, where Sue Li was sitting.
“Hey Li,” he whispered, “Is it true that without silent casting the OWL-level spells, you can’t get a DMLE internship?”
“Yeah,” she said. “That’s what my sister told me.”
“But….” Macmillan looked crestfallen, and raised a hand. That attracted Umbridge’s attention.
“Yes, Mr. Macmillan?”
“Professor, is it true that you need to cast silently to get a DMLE internship?”
Almost the entirety of the Hufflepuff and the Ravenclaw students were looking up at the woman, awaiting her response.
Wow. Daphne marvelled. This turn of events was… interesting. She hadn’t seen this coming. Almost everyone in the pureblood circles knew of Ernie Macmillan and his obsession with joining the Hit-wizard Corps right out of Hogwarts. The bloke had a shrine to Alastor Moody, Princep Fawley, and, unless she had heard it wrong, Sirius Black in his room, all of them being legendary dark-wizard catchers. Hit-wizardry was to Ernie Macmillan what the Chudley Cannons were to Ron Weasley.
She turned her head to look at Harry, who was still engrossed in his book. He looked so… carefree, so earnest, like he didn’t know exactly what was going on in the class right now. Like it was all coincidence, or fated to happen, rather than the outcome of meticulous engineering.
“I told you,” scoffed Susan. “That’s the truth.”
But Ernie was not convinced. Instead, he zoomed in on the professor, who looked a little flustered at the sudden line of questioning.
“Professor, I want to apply for the DMLE Hit-Wizard internship at the end of my OWLs. How am I going to do that if you do not teach us how to cast these spells?”
“Hem — I told you, students. So long as you’ve really studied the theory —”
“Studying the theory wouldn’t help us with casting, professor,” said Sue Li.
“And are you a Ministry-acclaimed expert on this, Miss…?”
“Sue Li. And no, I'm not. But I’m an Under-17 duelist in the International Dueling tournament, professor. I represented Wizarding Britain in the tournament this year. The Minister of Magic was the one who awarded me a medal. You were there too, Madam Umbridge.”
The woman faltered. “Ah, of course. My apologies, Miss Li. Your face did seem familiar.”
Daphne almost snorted. The Li family was notorious for producing duelists of high calibre. Sue Li’s elder sister, Xi, was the current Hit-Wizard Trainer in the DMLE.
“I — I’m not sure about the exact practices followed by the DMLE recruitments,” said Umbridge, trying to save face, “but I firmly believe that the experts in the Department of Education have your best interests at heart.”
Ron Weasley snorted loudly at that. “That settles it, mate,” he said. “Now you can rest easy.”
“You could always study from the proper books, Ernie,” said Susan, easily fitting into the role of the peacekeeper. “Look at Harry, he’s doing perfectly fine by himself.”
Daphne’s thoughts paused.
“Wait, what books?” asked Ernie. “What are you reading, Potter?”
“Extreme Incantations,” said Harry, before looking up at him. “Why?”
“Tut-tut!” said Umbridge, standing up from her chair. “That will not do Mr. Potter. The Ministry of Magic has recommended Mr. Slinkhard’s texts for your OWL examinations. As the DADA professor, I cannot not allow you to study dangerous magic in the classroom.”
“Dangerous magic?” drawled Harry, meeting Umbridge’s gaze. “It’s a fifth-year textbook.”
“And the Ministry of Magic has deemed it dangerous. Accio book!”
And nothing happened.
“Accio textbook,” claimed Umbridge, flicking her wand again.
Daphne narrowed her eyes. Harry had his left hand placed upon the book. His wand was nowhere to be seen, so it was probably in its holster. For Merlin’s sake, he wasn’t even holding it tightly, not that it would make a difference. If anything, it would make the book tear itself apart and send one half flying towards the woman.
Instead, nothing happened. As if the summoning charm wasn’t working on the book at all. Had he enchanted it against summoning spells?
She tilted her head slightly. Enchanting was a subject covered in NEWT-level Charms and Arithmancy. Perhaps Delacour had done it for him?
Weird. Why go through all the trouble for a book?
“Hand over that textbook to me, Mr. Potter,” exclaimed Umbridge, affronted.
Harry didn’t even bother standing up. “Why?”
“Because that’s an order!”
“Hmm. No.”
“Excuse me?”
This time Harry did actually stand up. “You forget I’m a Warlock, Madam Umbridge. That means that so long as I perform adequately in tests, I have official permission from the Headmaster to skip out of whatever classes I wish to. I decided to try attending this class after an entire month, but it seems everyone is still following this… tripe. If you want, I can walk out, but I’m going to read this absolute waste of parchment.”
He gingerly held his own copy of Slinkhard’s text.
“Enough!” Umbridge squealed. “This is my class, Mr. Potter. And unruly students like you need to be taught a lesson. I think this means detention for you.”
“Why?” Harry asked. “What have I done to deserve detention?”
“You’ve challenged a professor’s authority in her own class, Mr. Potter,”said the woman in her sickly sweet voice. “I understand that the Headmaster gave you a lot of leeway, but it ends now. Six o’clock. My office. Tonight. We’ll see if we can tame your rebelliousness a little.”
“Challenged your authority?” Harry shot back. “In what way? I mean, I didn’t tell anything about a paper-pusher trying to act like a professor, did I? Neither did I ask if you knew which side of the wand to hold, or if the esteemed Minister gifted you a DADA Newt like everything else. And I certainly didn’t say that anyone with two brain cells would be better off learning on their own than wasting their time on this sham of a textbook.”
“Enough!” she squealed, breathing fast. “Twenty points from Gryffindor. And detention for this entire week. The Minister was right. You’re trouble and need to be put in check.”
“Give me detention all you want,” Harry snapped, standing up. “Keep my House out of this.”
Umbridge’s lips twisted into a feral grin. “You seem to be harbouring under the delusion Mr. Potter, that you can demand anything of me. I’m the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister and I will be respected. Do not push me, Mr Potter or the Ministry will push back. And just for a start… Accio textbook.”
This time, his copy of Extreme Incantations zoomed out of his hand and fell upon Umbridge’s desk. Daphne noticed that he hadn’t been touching it when it happened. Perhaps an overpowered sticking charm? No. It would have torn his skin off. Plus, he hadn’t even brought his wand out to dispel it. All he had done was take his hand off the book.
She narrowed her eyes. Wandless general counter-spell? Harry was good, but not that good. At least she had not seen him perform wandless magic before.
Then how was he doing it?
The toad woman placed the wand tip on the book cover and met Harry’s eyes.
“Understand this well, Mr Potter. The Ministry will not tolerate any rebelliousness. Incendio.”
The tip of her wand exploded in crimson flames that devoured the entire book in one go and —
— And faded away. To nothingness.
Daphne blinked. That couldn’t have been the general counter-spell. She revisited the enchantment idea, but for him to have specifically bewitched it against summoning and fire seemed a bit too convenient. No, something else was at play here. But what?
The entire class was now looking at the woman, or rather, at the book sitting inconspicuously on her desk with a mix of awe, curiosity and suspicion.
“Really?” Harry’s cold, hard voice rang across the chamber. “Burning a book of all things? Why, that reminds me of the Witch-burnings of the fifteenth century. Professor Runcorn was teaching that just last week you know, about how zealot squibs supported by the Church burned several libraries down in their own jealousy at being unable to practise magic.”
Susan Bones snorted at that.
He gave her a pointed look. “Do you suffer from that too, Madam Umbridge? I mean it’s kind of an open secret really. Your own parentage was widely discussed at the Wizengamot. Is that why you want us to read Slinkhard’s trash?”
Umbridge opened her mouth without speaking. She seemed so genuinely shocked at being confronted like this that she was at a literal loss for words.
“But that’s alright,” he continued conversationally. “Even if it was through a book-burning attempt, you showed us how to perform a fire-making spell. Why, that all but doubles the number of spells you’ve taught us so far. Let’s see how I fare in it.”
He flicked his wand at her desk, and his textbook came flying back to him. He flicked his wand again, and levitated his copy of Slinkhard’s text, and levitated it upwards, until it was exactly between him and Umbridge.
And then he hissed.
A flicker of whitish flame erupted out of his wand like a living thing and leaped towards the levitating book, and devoured it whole, the flickering tongues devouring the text with an almost exaggerated slowness. And in the entire time, not once did he look away from that woman glaring daggers back at him. By the time the spell had burned it all, there was nothing left. Not even ash.
Okay, this was definitely suspicious. Harry had confided in her about his inability to cast fire magic. Came with the Death territory. On the other hand, his freezing spell was off the charts, if his performance in the Chamber was any clue. Daphne didn’t miss that he had cast the levitation charm silently, a sixth-year feat in itself, as well as the casual manner in which he had done it.
He was experienced in silent casting. And those white flames were definitely not a product of the Incendio charm, but a dark spell that looked like a flame spell. Given how nothing remained, Daphne had to assume it was some variation of the disintegration charm or something similar. In a single move, Harry had just demonstrated that his skill level and spell arsenal was comparable to a seventh-year.
And if I can see it then… Daphne looked around from the corner of her eyes. So can the others. But is he trying to…
Then it hit her.
Harry intended to display his skill in front of everyone. She should have seen it the moment it all began. Him setting up the entire thing, his flamboyant proclamation and now this… it was all a ploy to assert his whole dominance on the field. He knew that Umbridge would not quite believe or be intimidated by him without something truly… dangerous. So, he was putting up a little show. A way to appeal to people’s basest instincts. Show them how strong and skilled he was, and how quickly he could crush them if he wanted to.
Daphne had the sneaking suspicion that the message wasn’t merely directed at the toad woman.
“ENOUGH!” shrieked Umbridge, standing stiff. Her knuckles turned white as she flexed them. “Hand over your wand! I will not have you using magic in my class!”
“Rather ironic because it’s called the Defence Against the Dark Arts class, Madam Umbridge,” said Harry callously. “What? Did the Ministry memo print it as ‘Magical theory for kindergarten’ instead of Defence Against the Dark Arts? Merlin knows the Ministry has fucked worse shit up before. Take my own defamation trial for example.”
Umbridge was now turning purple. “I said, HAND OVER YOUR WAND!”
Harry only chuckled dryly, sending his wand back into its holster. “I think not. You see, unlike Malfoy there, I haven’t actually attacked anyone. So I don’t understand why I’m supposed to —”
“EXPELLIARMUS!” Umbridge screeched.
And once again, nothing happened.
Harry’s cold laugh reverberated across the hall. “Tut! Tut! Madam Umbridge. The Disarming charm only works if the opponent is armed. My wand is in its holster.”
“ACCIO HARRY POTTER’S WAND!”
“It seems even you don’t think much of Mr. Slinkhard’s book. Why, in the very first chapter, Mr. Slinkhard talks about how wands are dangerous things, and should always be kept inside wand holsters, which are enchanted against summoning.”
Daphne couldn’t help herself. She snorted. As did half the class.
Still, this was surprising. From her observations over the years and spending time with him up close, Daphne knew how little he genuinely cared about people that worked against his interests, and how frequently he spoke in half-truths among peers that wanted to know while keeping what he knew secret.
Still, orchestrating a situation through other students without his direct involvement, which evolved into politely insulting Umbridge and the Ministry policy, while keeping himself looking stronger. Chaining these gestures rapidly while being the focus of attention. Subtle, strong plays like these were not Harry’s forte.
“Another ten points from Gryffindor for blatant disrespect towards a Professor. Hand over your wand before I make it fifty! Already you’ve lost your House the Quidditch match, Potter. Don’t make things worse for yourself.”
Daphne winced. That wouldn’t go well. Not at all.
“No!” He said, and bent down to pick his school bag.
“Excuse me?”
“I said no,” Harry asserted. “This class is a sham. There’s absolutely nothing I can learn from this class.”
And then he turned around and began walking towards the door.
“Mr. Potter!” Umbridge screeched. “If you do not come back and sit down, the punishment will not be detention but outright expulsion.”
“Yeah?” Harry asked, stopping but not turning back. “On what grounds?”
“Disruption of the academic environment and hooliganism,” snapped the woman. She walked out of her chair, wand in hand. “Do not forget. Concerned parents of these children sent letters to the Ministry, which led to the Educational Decree Number 22. If you do not comply with my commands right away, I’m afraid I’ll consider that as blatant disrespect to Ministry authority and report it to the Minister himself. I’m certain you have some idea of what might follow?”
This time Harry did turn around.
Umbridge smiled. “Tut tut, Mr. Potter. Nothing good comes from defying the Ministry. I’m afraid your insolence has just cost you a month-long detention.”
And then Harry did something absolutely dangerous.
He smiled.
Daphne swallowed. This was so not going to end well.
“Now, go, and take your seat,” simpered the oblivious woman.
“Eh, not really. I just forgot to do something before I left.”
“And what is that?”
Harry put his bag down and sliding the chains open, began rummaging through it. “Hm. Ah, now where is it… I know it’s here somewhere.”
Every single person in the class was giving him absolutely incredulous looks, which he blithely ignored, eventually making a very over the top ‘Ah-ha!’ before reaching into a specific pocket.
“Oh yes. Here it is.”
He held up an envelope. He strode across the hall and dropped it on Umbridge’s desk. Even from a distance, Daphne could see it having an ornate script with the Hogwarts emblem on it.
“That’s a copy of the letter the Headmaster gave me, by the way. It’s a courtesy copy, addressed to a professor, or what counts for one in your case, should a warlock wish to not attend his or her classes in the future. As it turns out, there is absolutely nothing I can learn from you, or this class. And so, I formally submitted my leave.”
Umbridge actually took off the wax seal and went through the contents of the envelope. Daphne watched as Harry stood before her, his gait utterly lackadaisical and uncaring.
“If that’s all…” He began.
“This is unacceptable!” She squealed.
“Eh, you don’t, really need to. It’s a courtesy copy. You can use it to wipe dust off your chair for all I care, Madam Umbridge. Please feel free to continue your class. I’m sure the wizarding world will be a much safer place if weak-minded people learn to keep their dangerous wands locked up in their holsters.”
Daphne inhaled sharply, not expecting that turn of events. Oh Harry, she thought, what sort of recklessness are you up to?
Everyone there felt it before it happened. It was as if a switch had been triggered, and a wave of madness poured out of Draco Malfoy as he stood up.
“Really Potter,” snarled the ponce. “You think you’re so much better than me, than any of us?”
Harry snorted. “Please, everyone is better than you, Draco. The only thing you’re probably better off is at being a coward.”
Daphne cringed. As far as statements went, that had the subtlety of a sledgehammer.
And the sound of it was just as deafening.
“Mr. Potter,” squeaked the professor. “That will be fifty points from Gryffindor! Apologise to Mr. Malfoy right now!”
“Madam Umbridge,” Harry said calmly. “Fifty points for me talking back to Malfoy for being the shitstain that he is? This is the second time you’ve taken Draco’s side now. Maybe his father should hear about this. He’d make you his in-house counsel.”
“Really Potter?” snapped Draco. “You think you’re somehow better than us? You think that you know more magic than any of us? You’re calling us weak?”
Harry slowly turned to Malfoy, and for a moment, Daphne thought she saw red bloodlust flood his eyes, and his smile turned truly malicious. “Really? And how’d you do that? Attack a fellow teammate to trick me into saving them? Or maybe try cursing at me in the back? Or maybe use a cursed diary? Are you sure fighting one on you is enough odds for you? There should be at least a couple more just to be fair, right?”
To Malfoy’s credit, he only looked slightly unsettled by Harry’s overwhelming display of malice.
“He’s not alone!” claimed Pansy as she stood up. Daphne cringed at her vocal display of support for Malfoy, with Crabbe and Goyle following suit. The more she thought about it, the more it felt like Pansy had chosen her side, and sooner or later, Daphne would have to either force her to clear the air or break their friendship. Then again, Pansy was Draco’s betrothed, so maybe she had no choice in the matter.
After a second of hesitation, Theodore Nott stood up, followed by Zacharias Smith from Hufflepuff. Daphne watched as the smile spread across Draco’s face at the show of support.
“Now, now, Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Parkinson, there is no need for that.” said Umbridge with a lazy smile on her face. “I’m sure Mr. Potter already resents his hotheadedness. I’m certain he will… reconsider his words and formally apologise.”
Daphne furrowed her temples. The toad didn’t understand, did she? Harry Potter was a hurricane. He didn’t have to fear that there were six people standing against him. Those six people had to worry that Harry Potter was standing against them.
Daphne really hoped this wasn’t going where she thought it was.
Oh, who was she kidding? It was going exactly that way. And this wasn’t going to end well for anyone when it did.
“Your arrogance has blinded you, Mr. Potter,” said Umbridge, a tone of steel lining her voice. She had now stood up from her chair. “You should fall back to reason and formally apologise. I believe a term worth of detention would suffice for your hooliganism. Be content that I’m not formally expelling you right away from this school.”
To everyone’s surprise, Harry began to laugh. And then when he spoke, his gaze slowly moved from Umbridge to Malfoy and the rest of his crowd, making sure his message got across.
“I’m sure you think I’ll be cowed. I mean, numbers are a great way of intimidating people. I’m certain it reminds Malfoy of his father’s glory days.” He gave Draco a condescending sneer. “You know, wearing Death Eater robes, surrounding the homes of a hapless halfblood or muggle born, or Merlin forbid, a pureblood with common sense, just because they stood against your Dark Lord Tom Riddle?”
Malfoy turned purple.
“Mr. Potter—” Umbridge hands had balled into fists. “You will stop this right now —”
“Of course,” Harry quickly said. “I’m not insinuating Draco’s father was a Death Eater. No, he was just so pathetically weak-willed that any Tom could imperius him to dance in a tutu. Isn’t that right?”
Umbridge opened her mouth, and closed it. Daphne could tell that this was not how she had imagined things to proceed. Like everyone else, she had expected Harry Potter to cave in when faced by superior numbers.
Daphne smirked. Poor woman was up for a rough awakening.
“Stop talking and whip your wand out, Potter.” claimed Malfoy.
“Darling,” said Harry. “The adults are talking. Your dear professor isn’t sure of your chances. Any more of your tantrums and she’d have an aneurysm.”
The entire class was laughing now.
Harry regarded those standing against him. “Fellas, you’re standing up against a known Warlock, who’s also put on trial for the so-called murder of thirteen purebloods. Snapped them off their magic and all that. You sure you want to duel me and risk your magic?”
Daphne forgot to breathe. Who was this guy and what had he done with Harry Potter? Harry was the last guy to ever boast over his achievements. Instead the person before him had done just that. Not only had he boasted over his status as a Warlock, he had used his recently gained notoriety to make as many back off as possible. And true to her thoughts, Zacharias Smith sat down. Even Nott was looking conflicted when Zabini grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him down, whispering something to him furiously.
She watched as Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other and swallowed. From the bitter smile on Pansy’s face, Daphne knew she was resenting standing up.
“What’s he doing?” asked Tracey incredulously. “He’s facing four at once.”
“So?” Daphne asked off-handedly. “Nothing he can’t manage.”
“There’s a reason I was chosen as Triwizard Champion despite being a fourth year you know,” Harry said, pausing again, making sure he’d met the eye of every single person standing against him. His mouth opened in a humourless grin. “Do you really want to find out what that is?”
His words were having the desired effect of shaking the group, though the signs were small. Still, a slight tremble of the hand here, a quivering of the lip there, or a flitting of the eyes, and Daphne knew that they were beginning to doubt. To look past their numerical advantage and feel fear.
Draco found his voice first. “YOU FILTHY SON OF A MUDBLOOD! REDUCTO!”
Harry twisted himself by a few degrees, and the spell crashed into Umbridge’s table, shattering it apart.
Umbridge didn’t see it coming, and the detonation hurled her off her pedestal, crashing into the floor beneath. The rest of the students were already rushing out of the tables towards the sides of the room, leaving the centre empty for Harry and his opponents.
“Really Draco,” Harry drawled. “Vandalizing school property? I believe this is the second time you did this. Maybe your father should hear about this!”
“SHUT UP YOU BLOOD-TRAIT—”
“Oh, bully for you!” Harry said, ignoring the blond ponce’s statement, as his wand snapped up, sparks of fury and magic blazing into existence from its tip.
Comments
Shadowsmage
Draco is very predictable fun :D
TigerSwarm9122
Please let Harry put these idiots in there place.
