Disclaimer: I've been slacking in this area lately and I'm sorry. So I just
thought I'd reiterate the fact that I don't own this.
Exploding Malfoys, Chapter 7: Never Tempt a Ravenclaw
There exists in the wizarding world a dearth of knowledge about the muggle
world. The reasons for this are many. If you are from an ancient wizarding
family, you'll probably feel little need to know exactly why light bulbs were
invented and by whom. Usually, the only thing that will catch your interest when
it comes to light bulbs is hearing their inventor (Thomas Alva Edison) referred
to as "The Wizard of Menlo Park." This nickname, coupled with the odd middle
name most wizards associate only with the wizarding world, has made several well
intentioned wizards and witches petition their governments to put a stop to this
blatant disregard for wizarding secrecy laws. This mistake, however, has had
little impact on the wizarding community as whole.
Not so their ignorance of explosives. To be specific, dynamite. The great
thing about dynamite is that it comes in so many shapes and styles to suit any
purpose. From the traditional stick form to the more common round ball (seen
mostly in muggle cartoons), dynamite remained a mystery to most wizards.
At Hogwarts, the Muggle Studies class had a whole section on dynamite and
other muggle explosives that caused the students taking it to roam the halls
starry-eyed for days, dreaming of muggle explosive power (or fearing it, as the
case may be).
Draco was not one of these students. When he selected new subjects for his
third year, Muggle Studies never even crossed his mind as being a viable option.
He (and his father) preferred real heavyweight wizarding courses, like
Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Care of Magical Creatures. Nothing had
disappointed him more to see Magical Creatures taught by that buffoon Hagrid and
become a complete waste of time but the other two were decidedly useful. He
leaned against the wall smugly while waiting for the Ancient runes professor to
show up. He had definitely made the right course selections. Both Ancient Runes
and Arithmancy were filled with arcane knowledge he could use to his personal
benefit. His reflections were suddenly interrupted by a hurried whisper. "There
he is, that one!" Draco looked over at a group of forth year Ravenclaws huddled
near by. "He's the one who's responsible for taking away so many house points
last year." A snarl curled up on Draco's lips as his hand went to his prefect
badge and he strolled over towards them. "Got a problem, Ravenclaws?" He
demanded imperiously. Half of them jumped in surprise.
"No," the smallest one answered forcefully and failed to shirk when Draco
leveled his gaze at him. Draco sneered. No one talked about him behind his back
and got away with it.
"Good. Because if you do, I'm sure I could arrange for Professor Snape to
give you a detention or two." Having fully exercised his prefect powers, he
turned and went into Ancient Runs, fully convinced he had cowed them.
The upstart Ravenclaws did not leave a lasting impression on his mind;
such things rarely did. Draco was rapidly considering threats to his authority
to be the norm instead of the exceptions and with the year's first Quidditch
match coming up; Draco had no time to think about anything besides Quidditch. He
was determined that Slytherin would not only defeat Gryffindor and win the Cup
but that they would completely destroy them. If a couple Weasley's and Harry
Potter ended up in the infirmary (or dead), so much the better. The Slytherin
team was ready and they had trained more for this match than any other. As Draco
mounted his broom and lifted up into the sky the morning of the match, he felt
in the core of his being that this would be it, their chance, HIS chance.
The balls were released, the game began and Draco scoured the pitch for
any sign of the snitch, keeping only half an eye on the rest of the game.
This was unfortunate. Had he paid attention to all that was happening, he
might have noticed a strange occurrence. A bludger Goyle had been chasing
disappeared for a full thirty seconds and Goyle hovered over the area, looking
denser than usual until it finally reappeared, now floating above the crowd. He
grinned, pleased with his find then turned to look for Potter. The team was
under strict orders to concentrate on knocking him out of the game first. Potter
just happened to be flying towards the same area as Draco. "Go look somewhere
else for the snitch, Potter. I'm not going to find it for you," Draco snapped in
irritation but Potter just laughed.
"Good. If you tried that, Gryffindor would never win!" The nerve! Draco
opened his mouth to throw out a flashy retort but shut it again quickly. He had
just spotted Goyle taking a massive swing at a bludger, aiming for Potter.
Perfect.
At that moment, a series of things happened. First of all, Potter spied
the snitch and dove off towards it, Draco made an attempt to copy his movements,
and Goyle swung at the stray bludger, sending it soaring across the field.
Now would be a good time to mention Goyle's miserable aim.
The bludger did not hit Potter. It didn't even come close. But it did hit
Draco smack in the face and exploded in a sickening BOOM! As it made contact.
A loud gasp arose from all on the pitch as blood sprayed from the general
area that Draco had been. IN a motion that brought the phrase "Chicken with its
head cut off" to mind, his broom continued to zoom across the flied for a few
minutes before sensing a lack of direction and falling to the ground, causing
what bits of Draco remaining on it to fall over onto the pitch. The crowd was
completely disgusted and many of them were sick (including several Slytherins,
but that could have been because Potter caught the stitch again.) In fact, only
one row in the audience did not seem affected by the grotesque display on the
Quidditch field and that was a group of Ravenclaws, perched midway up the
stands.
They sat there with semi-satisfied looks on their faces, evidence of a
ploy not only well thought out but well executed as well. You see, they did pay
attention in Muggle Studies and were well aware of dynamite and its explosive
properties and shape shifting abilities. Their only regret in the end was that
Draco would not be around for them to gloat.
thought I'd reiterate the fact that I don't own this.
Exploding Malfoys, Chapter 7: Never Tempt a Ravenclaw
There exists in the wizarding world a dearth of knowledge about the muggle
world. The reasons for this are many. If you are from an ancient wizarding
family, you'll probably feel little need to know exactly why light bulbs were
invented and by whom. Usually, the only thing that will catch your interest when
it comes to light bulbs is hearing their inventor (Thomas Alva Edison) referred
to as "The Wizard of Menlo Park." This nickname, coupled with the odd middle
name most wizards associate only with the wizarding world, has made several well
intentioned wizards and witches petition their governments to put a stop to this
blatant disregard for wizarding secrecy laws. This mistake, however, has had
little impact on the wizarding community as whole.
Not so their ignorance of explosives. To be specific, dynamite. The great
thing about dynamite is that it comes in so many shapes and styles to suit any
purpose. From the traditional stick form to the more common round ball (seen
mostly in muggle cartoons), dynamite remained a mystery to most wizards.
At Hogwarts, the Muggle Studies class had a whole section on dynamite and
other muggle explosives that caused the students taking it to roam the halls
starry-eyed for days, dreaming of muggle explosive power (or fearing it, as the
case may be).
Draco was not one of these students. When he selected new subjects for his
third year, Muggle Studies never even crossed his mind as being a viable option.
He (and his father) preferred real heavyweight wizarding courses, like
Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Care of Magical Creatures. Nothing had
disappointed him more to see Magical Creatures taught by that buffoon Hagrid and
become a complete waste of time but the other two were decidedly useful. He
leaned against the wall smugly while waiting for the Ancient runes professor to
show up. He had definitely made the right course selections. Both Ancient Runes
and Arithmancy were filled with arcane knowledge he could use to his personal
benefit. His reflections were suddenly interrupted by a hurried whisper. "There
he is, that one!" Draco looked over at a group of forth year Ravenclaws huddled
near by. "He's the one who's responsible for taking away so many house points
last year." A snarl curled up on Draco's lips as his hand went to his prefect
badge and he strolled over towards them. "Got a problem, Ravenclaws?" He
demanded imperiously. Half of them jumped in surprise.
"No," the smallest one answered forcefully and failed to shirk when Draco
leveled his gaze at him. Draco sneered. No one talked about him behind his back
and got away with it.
"Good. Because if you do, I'm sure I could arrange for Professor Snape to
give you a detention or two." Having fully exercised his prefect powers, he
turned and went into Ancient Runs, fully convinced he had cowed them.
The upstart Ravenclaws did not leave a lasting impression on his mind;
such things rarely did. Draco was rapidly considering threats to his authority
to be the norm instead of the exceptions and with the year's first Quidditch
match coming up; Draco had no time to think about anything besides Quidditch. He
was determined that Slytherin would not only defeat Gryffindor and win the Cup
but that they would completely destroy them. If a couple Weasley's and Harry
Potter ended up in the infirmary (or dead), so much the better. The Slytherin
team was ready and they had trained more for this match than any other. As Draco
mounted his broom and lifted up into the sky the morning of the match, he felt
in the core of his being that this would be it, their chance, HIS chance.
The balls were released, the game began and Draco scoured the pitch for
any sign of the snitch, keeping only half an eye on the rest of the game.
This was unfortunate. Had he paid attention to all that was happening, he
might have noticed a strange occurrence. A bludger Goyle had been chasing
disappeared for a full thirty seconds and Goyle hovered over the area, looking
denser than usual until it finally reappeared, now floating above the crowd. He
grinned, pleased with his find then turned to look for Potter. The team was
under strict orders to concentrate on knocking him out of the game first. Potter
just happened to be flying towards the same area as Draco. "Go look somewhere
else for the snitch, Potter. I'm not going to find it for you," Draco snapped in
irritation but Potter just laughed.
"Good. If you tried that, Gryffindor would never win!" The nerve! Draco
opened his mouth to throw out a flashy retort but shut it again quickly. He had
just spotted Goyle taking a massive swing at a bludger, aiming for Potter.
Perfect.
At that moment, a series of things happened. First of all, Potter spied
the snitch and dove off towards it, Draco made an attempt to copy his movements,
and Goyle swung at the stray bludger, sending it soaring across the field.
Now would be a good time to mention Goyle's miserable aim.
The bludger did not hit Potter. It didn't even come close. But it did hit
Draco smack in the face and exploded in a sickening BOOM! As it made contact.
A loud gasp arose from all on the pitch as blood sprayed from the general
area that Draco had been. IN a motion that brought the phrase "Chicken with its
head cut off" to mind, his broom continued to zoom across the flied for a few
minutes before sensing a lack of direction and falling to the ground, causing
what bits of Draco remaining on it to fall over onto the pitch. The crowd was
completely disgusted and many of them were sick (including several Slytherins,
but that could have been because Potter caught the stitch again.) In fact, only
one row in the audience did not seem affected by the grotesque display on the
Quidditch field and that was a group of Ravenclaws, perched midway up the
stands.
They sat there with semi-satisfied looks on their faces, evidence of a
ploy not only well thought out but well executed as well. You see, they did pay
attention in Muggle Studies and were well aware of dynamite and its explosive
properties and shape shifting abilities. Their only regret in the end was that
Draco would not be around for them to gloat.