At Lunch, Harry came up to me.

"I heard about the spectacle in Moody's class today. How did you manage to endure the Cruciatus? And resist the Imperius?" he asked.

Between bites, I replied: "My grandfather taught me."

"Your grandfather?"

"Yeah, he was ex-military. Muggle military. Graduated Hogwarts, married my grandmother, had my father, and went off to serve the muggles in the second Great War."

"But how did that-" he started.

"I'm not finished yet. So, he gets back, eventually my dad grows up, marries my mum, has me. Grandfather wants to make sure I become strong, since he didn't think my father was."

"And?"

"Christ's sakes, Harry, I'm eating! Gimme some time! So, Gramps raises me like I'm in boot. Performs the Cruciatus and Imperius on me a bunch of times. Trains me to resist. Started when I was 5."

"How could he get away with that?" Harry asked, astonished.

"He didn't. Gramps is serving time in Azkaban. Dad turned him in when he found out. Gramps pled guilty, said he knew what he did was wrong, but felt he had to do it to make me strong. Court gave him 20 years, and took away his wand. As they took him away, Gramps told me it was worth it."

"Wow. That's horrible." Harry said.

"It's nothing. I don't harbor any bad feelings towards it. I mean, I agreed to it, you know? He made me do some ridiculous stuff, though. Like piss in the pantry. Got a whippin' for that one."

"You planning on doing something with all this training?" he asked.

"Not really." I said.

"You ever plan to follow in your grandfather's footsteps? Join the army?"

I laughed.

"Me? Nah. I don't think I could ever hack it. I couldn't kill someone if my life depended on it. But, I'll say this: I'd rather join the muggle army than any wizard one. A few highly-trained muggles could whip the crap out of any wizards, including the Dark Lord and Dumbledore as a team."

I saw Draco glare at me from Slytherin's table. He didn't like that much.

"You got a problem, Malfoy?" I asked, grinning.

He averted his gaze.

"What makes you say that?" asked Harry.

"Simple. Guns. A wand is useful for domestic shite, but a gun is where combat tech has hit it's peak. I mean, I can unload half a mag into you before you can even start to perform the Killing Curse. Hell, I could probably punch you out before you finished saying it half-way."

Draco glared at me again.

"You want to take it outside, Malfoy?" I shouted at him. "My fist against your wand?"

He quickly turned back.