centerDraco Malfoycenter
WARNING: this section is very intense. We don't usually write like this, but it was necessary. Don't get scared off! This is almost as bad as it gets.
The small hut was dark. Heavy shades were pulled over the few windows. Malfoy sat at the wooden table, brooding. Harry Potter was at Hogwarts.
All that the name Harry Potter stood for was poison to Malfoy. Disgrace, ruin, impoverishment, defeat. That mudblood-loving fool! Nay, more than a fool. He was a favored knave, a vile blackguard, rolling in the slime of his Muggle mother. And all the teachers had liked him over Malfoy, a proud pureblood, with no reason for shame.
Malfoy's claws clicked as he tapped them against the table. In his seventh year, he had fashioned magically retractable claws for himself. When he chose, his hands looked like any other man's, except for a scar in the shape of a lightning bolt on each palm. (A/N: How ironic can you get?) But when he chose, a sheath of molten iron covered each finger, ending in a four-inch-long diamond claw. Each claw was wickedly sharp, and could cut through steel.
Every piece of furniture in the one-room hut was pitted and gouged, from when Malfoy fell into one of his wild rages. Those, though not common, were terrible to behold. He shrieked like a banshee, and tore 'round the room like a fury. His claws darted out, and shredded anything weaker than wood. The people at the castle dreaded these times, though few, if any, knew what caused them. The bravest first-years huddled, terrified, under blankets, long after the sounds had stopped, while fourth-years, only a degree less frightened, dared to lay down two hours after the noise had abated. Even Professor McGonagall, as stern and implacable as always, could not bring herself to sleep through the fits, and she was half deaf.
Malfoy was not raging now. He was the very picture of cool calculation. His brow was furrowed, as it always was, and his mouth was pulled into a frown, put no sign of frustration touched his narrowed eyes.
This time, he would show Potter! He would wipe Hogwarts clean of Mudbloods and Muggles! Everyone would see that Draco Malfoy was great. All the teachers that had shunned him would beg to kiss his robes when he was finished. He would flay the souls from their bodies! He would release upon them a pack of death-loving hounds, who would devour them and leave only dry husks. And then where would Harry Potter be?
A sound echoed over the Hogwarts grounds. It rang through the corridors and the rooms. All who heard it felt the marrow freeze in their bones and their heart sink. It was worse than the shrieking and howling that had come before.
It was the sound of a laugh.