"Think my name's funny, do you?" sneered Draco, with a short, critical huff. "Well, there's no need to ask yours. Red hair and a hand-me-down robe? You must be a Weasley."
From behind him, his father gave a delicate cough.
Draco turned. "What?" he asked. "What am I missing?"
He turned back to catch the scarred man in tattered, misfit robes smirking completely openly above his head at his father. He felt a cold glare of disapproval on his back.
"Draco," said his father, smoothly. "Allow me to introduce my well-respected colleague Mr. Moody, the famous auror."
Draco went completely white and stopped speaking.