"The name of the next chapter is 'THE LION AND THE SERPENT'", said the voice. It began to read. Meanwhile everyone was confused at the name.
Harry felt as though he were carrying some kind of talisman inside his chest over the following two weeks, a glowing secret that supported him through Umbridge's classes and even made it possible for him to smile blandly as he looked into her horrible bulging eyes. He and the D.A. were resisting her under her very nose, doing the very thing that she and the Ministry most feared, and whenever he was supposed to be reading Wilbert Slinkhard's book during her lessons he dwelled instead on satisfying memories of their most recent meetings, remembering how Neville had successfully disarmed Hermione, how Colin Creevey had mastered the Impediment Jinx after three meetings' hard effort, how Parvati Patil had produced such a good Reductor Curse that she had reduced the table carrying all the Sneakoscopes to dust.
Those students who didn't know about the DA widened their eyes. Those who knew about the DA(and thus were a part of it), were feeling proud of themselves.
The professors were impressed at the mention of Colin, Parvati, Neville and other students improving at casting various spells.
"Thanks a lot for teaching us, Harry. We would've never been unable to learn those spells without you.", said Neville gratefully.
"Yeah, thanks a lot Harry. Without your teaching, we would've been sitting ducks.", said Ernie.
The DA members were saying similar words to Harry. Everyone of them was grateful to Harry for teaching them. Harry blushed, unable to say a word.
The professors were impressed with Harry;he must've taught them really well. McGonagall and Flitwick were impressed the most; they planned to approach Harry with the intention of possibly helping him and the other students to learn more spells.
He was finding it almost impossible to fix a regular night of the week for D.A. meetings, as they had to accommodate three separate Quidditch teams' practices, which were often rearranged depending on the weather conditions; but Harry was not sorry about this, he had a feeling that it was probably better to keep the timing of their meetings unpredictable. If anyone was watching them, it would be hard to make out a pattern.
"Smart move, Potter. Don't give the enemy a hint of whatever you're doing or planning.", said Moody.
Hermione soon devised a very clever method of communicating the time and date of the next meeting to all the members in case they needed to change it at short notice, because it would look so suspicious if people from different Houses were seen crossing the Great Hall to talk to each other too often. She gave each of the members of the D.A. a fake Galleon (Ron became very excited when he saw the basket at first, convinced that she was actually giving out gold).
"Ron", said Arthur, sending his son a stern look.
"I'm sorry dad. I don't know what I was thinking.", said Ron, looking ashamed for having thought like that.
"You see the numerals around the edge of the coins?" Hermione said, holding one up for examination at the end of their fourth meeting. The coin gleamed fat and yellow in the light from the torches.
"On real Galleons that's just a serial number referring to the goblin who cast the coin. On these fake coins, though, the numbers will change to reflect the time and date of the next meeting. The coins will grow hot when the date changes, so if you're carrying them in a pocket you'll be able to feel them. We take one each, and when Harry sets the date of the next meeting he'll change the numbers on his coin, and because I've put a Protean Charm on them, they'll all change to mimic his."
"Excellent spellwork, miss Granger! You are truly a bright student!", exclaimed Professor Flitwick. Hermione blushed but beamed at the praise.
A blank silence greeted Hermione's words. She looked around at all the faces upturned to her, rather disconcerted.
"Well — I thought it was a good idea," she said uncertainly, "I mean, even if Umbridge asked us to turn out our pockets, there's nothing fishy about carrying a Galleon, is there? But . . . well, if you don't want to use them . . ."
"You can do a Protean Charm?" said Terry Boot.
"Yes," said Hermione.
"But that's . . . that's N.E.W.T. standard, that is," he said weakly.
"It is indeed a N.E.W.T. standard spell, Mr Boot.", said Professor McGonagall, clearly impressed with Hermione's knowledge and spells.
"Oh," said Hermione, trying to look modest. "Oh . . . well . . . yes, I suppose it is. . . ."
"How come you're not in Ravenclaw?" he demanded, staring at Hermione with something close to wonder. "With brains like yours?"
"Well, the Sorting Hat did seriously consider putting me in Ravenclaw during my Sorting," said Hermione brightly, "but it decided on Gryffindor in the end. So does that mean we're using the Galleons?"
"Wait, that means that could be more of us who could've gone to different houses because we were suitable for multiple houses?", asked Michael.
"Indeed, Mr Corner. I believe you all could've been in different houses from your current ones based on the traits you all possess.", said Dumbledore. This caused the hall to ponder in deep thought.
Meanwhile, Harry was reminded about how the Sorting Hat had considered putting him in Slytherin before it chose to put him in Gryffindor. He couldn't help but mentally snort at how Malfoy, Snape or Voldemort would've felt had they ever known that their most hated nemesis had been considered for Slytherin.
There was a murmur of assent and everybody moved forward to collect one from the basket. Harry looked sideways at Hermione.
"You know what these remind me of?"
"No, what's that?"
"The Death Eaters' scars. Voldemort touches one of them, and all their scars burn, and they know they've got to join him."
Snape mentally winced at the mention of the Dark Mark.
"Well . . . yes," said Hermione quietly. "That is where I got the idea . . . but you'll notice I decided to engrave the date on bits of metal rather than on our members' skin. . . ."
"Good idea, Miss Granger.", said Professor Flitwick.
"Yeah . . . I prefer your way," said Harry, grinning, as he slipped his galleon into his pocket. "I suppose the only danger with these is that we might accidentally spend them."
Everyone chuckled at the thought of spending the D.A. Galleons as real money.
"Fat chance," said Ron, who was examining his own fake Galleon with a slightly mournful air. "I haven't got any real Galleons to confuse it with."
As the first Quidditch match of the season, Gryffindor versus Slytherin, drew nearer, their D.A. meetings were put on hold because Angelina insisted on almost daily practices. The fact that the Quidditch Cup had not been held for so long added considerably to the interest and excitement surrounding the forthcoming game. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were taking a lively interest in the outcome, for they, of course, would be playing both teams over the coming year; and the Heads of House of the competing teams, though they attempted to disguise it under a decent pretense of sportsmanship, were determined to see their side's victory. Harry realized how much Professor McGonagall cared about beating Slytherin when she abstained from giving them homework in the week leading up to the match.
Those who had been in that Transfiguration class cheered. Everyone had been glad that there wasn't any homework that day.
The professors were amused with how things had turned out before that match. Every head of house had done their best to favour their own house's chances of winning the Cup.
However, Harry, Fred and George's eyes darkened as they remembered the aftermath of the match. Malfoy got off scot free after insulting their parents while they all got unfair bans from Quidditch.
"I think you've got enough to be getting on with at the moment," she said loftily. Nobody could quite believe their ears until she looked directly at Harry and Ron and said grimly, "I've become accustomed to seeing the Quidditch Cup in my study, boys, and I really don't want to have to hand it over to Professor Snape, so use the extra time to practice, won't you?"
The Gryffindors smiled; however they remembered that this was the match after which they lost three of their best players in one go, and their faces darkened.
Snape was no less obviously partisan: He had booked the Quidditch pitch for Slytherin practice so often that the Gryffindors had difficulty getting on it to play. He was also turning a deaf ear to the many reports of Slytherin attempts to hex Gryffindor players in the corridors. When Alicia Spinnet turned up in the hospital wing with her eyebrows growing so thick and fast that they obscured her vision and obstructed her mouth, Snape insisted that she must have attempted a Hair-Thickening Charm on herself and refused to listen to the fourteen eyewitnesses who insisted that they had seen the Slytherin Keeper, Miles Bletchley, hit her from behind with a jinx while she worked in the library.
Snape received glares from of the students in the hall, though he ignored them. The Gryffindors were glaring at him harder than the other two houses.
McGonagall was breathing fire at the mention of Snape turning a blind eye to Katie being hexed by Bletchley. Snape noticed this, and immediately edged himself away from her and the others.
"We will be having words about your treatment of the students, Severus", said McGonagall in a dangerously calm voice, and Snape mentally prepared himself.
Harry felt optimistic about Gryffindor's chances; they had, after all, never lost to Malfoy's team. Admittedly Ron was still not performing to Wood's standard, but he was working extremely hard to improve.
His greatest weakness was a tendency to lose confidence when he made a blunder; if he let in one goal he became flustered and was therefore likely to miss more.
Ron looked down sadly.
"Its alright, Ron. No one's perfect. Pretty sure you'll improve over time.", said Harry, patting Ron on the back.
"Mate, the best players out there too have had to practice a lot. You've made some excellent saves out there on the pitch.", said Dean.
"Thanks guys.", said Ron, blushing but grinning.
On the other hand, Harry had seen Ron make some truly spectacular saves when he was on form: During one memorable practice, he had hung one-handed from his broom and kicked the Quaffle so hard away from the goal hoop that it soared the length of the pitch and through the center hoop at the other end. The rest of the team felt this save compared favorably with one made recently by Barry Ryan, the Irish International Keeper, against Poland's top Chaser, Ladislaw Zamojski. Even Fred had said that Ron might yet make him and George proud, and that they were seriously considering admitting that he was related to them, something he assured Ron they had been trying to deny for four years.
"Weasley actually did that?", exclaimed a few students.
"Yes, he did", said Angelina, who couldn't help but grin.
"It was bloody awesome!", said Fred.
Ron blushed further at the appreciation he was getting.
The only thing really worrying Harry was how much Ron was allowing the tactics of the Slytherin team to upset him before they even got onto the pitch. Harry, of course, had endured their snide comments for more than four years, so whispers of, "Hey, Potty, I heard Warrington's sworn to knock you off your broom on Saturday," far from chilling his blood, made him laugh. "Warrington's aim's so pathetic I'd be more worried if he was aiming for the person next to me," he retorted, which made Ron and Hermione laugh and wiped the smirk off Pansy Parkinson's face.
Everyone snickered at Book Harry's words. The Slytherins were annoyed at being bested in a verbal assault.
But Ron had never endured a relentless campaign of insults, jeers, and intimidation. When Slytherins, some of them seventh years and considerably larger than he was, muttered as they passed in the corridors, "Got your bed booked in the hospital wing, Weasley?" he did not laugh, but turned a delicate shade of green. When Draco Malfoy imitated Ron dropping the Quaffle (which he did whenever they were within sight of each other), Ron's ears glowed red and his hands shook so badly that he was likely to drop whatever he was holding at the time too.
"Don't let them get to you, Ron.", said Harry.
"Yeah, they are right up gits who know they can't win any game without annoying the opponent.", said Dean.
Ron nodded, though he was still furious with the Slytherins.
October extinguished itself in a rush of howling winds and driving rain and November arrived, cold as frozen iron, with hard frosts every morning and icy drafts that bit at exposed hands and faces. The skies and the ceiling of the Great Hall turned a pale, pearly gray, the mountains around Hogwarts became snowcapped, and the temperature in the castle dropped so far that many students wore their thick protective dragon skin gloves in the corridors between lessons.
The morning of the match dawned bright and cold. When Harry awoke he looked around at Ron's bed and saw him sitting bolt upright, his arms around his knees, staring fixedly into space.
"You all right?" said Harry.
Ron nodded but did not speak. Harry was reminded forcibly of the time that Ron had accidentally put a slug-vomiting charm on himself.
Those who had been present during the time when Ron had done that, were shuddering. Ron had attempted to cast the charm on Malfoy in retaliation to Malfoy calling Hermione a mudblood.
He looked just as pale and sweaty as he had done then, not to mention as reluctant to open his mouth.
"You just need some breakfast," Harry said bracingly. "C'mon."
The Great Hall was filling up fast when they arrived, the talk louder and the mood more exuberant than usual. As they passed the Slytherin table there was an upsurge of noise; Harry looked around and saw that nearly everyone there was wearing, in addition to the usual green-and-silver scarves and hats, silver badges in the shape of what seemed to be crowns. For some reason many of them waved at Ron, laughing uproariously. Harry tried to see what was written on the badges as he walked by, but he was too concerned to get Ron past their table quickly to linger long enough to read them.
The trio's eyes darkened as they knew what was exactly written on the badges.
They received a rousing welcome at the Gryffindor table, where everyone was wearing red and gold, but far from raising Ron's spirits the cheers seemed to sap the last of his morale; he collapsed onto the nearest bench looking as though he were facing his final meal.
"I must've been mental to do this," he said in a croaky whisper. " Mental."
"Relax, Ron.", said Hermione softly. "It's not the end of the world if you haven't performed well.", she said, taking Ron's hand in her own.
Ron couldn't help but feel better at Hermione's words.
"Don't be thick," said Harry firmly, passing him a choice of cereals.
"You're going to be fine. It's normal to be nervous."
"I'm rubbish," croaked Ron. "I'm lousy. I can't play to save my life. What was I thinking?"
"Get a grip," said Harry sternly. "Look at that save you made with your foot the other day, even Fred and George said it was brilliant —"
Ron turned a tortured face to Harry.
"That was an accident," he whispered miserably. "I didn't mean to do it — I slipped off my broom when none of you were looking and I was trying to get back on and I kicked the Quaffle by accident."
The Gryffindors winced; though some of them were thinking that Ron was simply downplaying himself.
"Well," said Harry, recovering quickly from this unpleasant surprise, "a few more accidents like that and the game's in the bag, isn't it?"
Hermione and Ginny sat down opposite them wearing red-and-gold scarves, gloves, and rosettes.
"How're you feeling?" Ginny asked Ron, who was now staring into the dregs of milk at the bottom of his empty cereal bowl as though seriously considering attempting to drown himself in them.
"He's just nervous," said Harry.
"Well, that's a good sign, I never feel you perform as well in exams if you're not a bit nervous," said Hermione heartily.
"Hello," said a vague and dreamy voice from behind them. Harry looked up: Luna Lovegood had drifted over from the Ravenclaw table.
Many people were staring at her and a few openly laughing and pointing; she had managed to procure a hat shaped like a life-size lion's head, which was perched precariously on her head.
"I'm supporting Gryffindor," said Luna, pointing unnecessarily at her hat. "Look what it does. . . ."
She reached up and tapped the hat with her wand. It opened its mouth wide and gave an extremely realistic roar that made everyone in the vicinity jump.
The Gryffindors cheered on behalf of Luna, while the twins walked upto Luna to shake hands with her, which she did with a smile.
"It's good, isn't it?" said Luna happily. "I wanted to have it chewing up a serpent to represent Slytherin, you know, but there wasn't time. Anyway . . . good luck, Ronald!"
She drifted away. They had not quite recovered from the shock of Luna's hat before Angelina came hurrying toward them, accompanied by Katie and Alicia, whose eyebrows had mercifully been returned to normal by Madam Pomfrey.
"When you're ready," she said, "we're going to go straight down to the pitch, check out conditions and change."
"We'll be there in a bit," Harry assured her. "Ron's just got to have some breakfast."
" That didn't age well….", thought Harry.
It became clear after ten minutes, however, that Ron was not capable of eating anything more and Harry thought it best to get him down to the changing rooms. As they rose from the table, Hermione got up too, and taking Harry's arm, she drew him to one side.
"Don't let Ron see what's on those Slytherins' badges," she whispered urgently.
Hermione's eyes darkened again; she was itching to take out her wand and hex a flock of canaries onto the Slytherins, or better yet, slap Malfoy once again.
Harry looked questioningly at her, but she shook her head warningly; Ron had just ambled over to them, looking lost and desperate. "Good luck, Ron," said Hermione, standing on tiptoe and kissing him on the cheek. "And you, Harry —"
The twins cat-called and most of the hall cheered, while Hermione and Ron blushed. Harry and Ginny shot them knowing looks, grinning from the inside like cheshire cats.
"How long do you think it'll be before those two confess to each other?", asked Michael to his friends.
"The way I see it, it would probably be this year or the next", said one of them.
Ron seemed to come to himself slightly as they walked back across the Great Hall. He touched the spot on his face where Hermione had kissed him, looking puzzled, as though he was not quite sure what had just happened. He seemed too distracted to notice much around him, but Harry cast a curious glance at the crown-shaped badges as they passed the Slytherin table, and this time he made out the words etched onto them:
WEASLEY is our king
The good mood in the hall vanished, as 3/4th of the hall shot venomous glares at the Slytherins, the Gryffindors' ones being the hardest.
Ron's friends were all itching to pull out their wands and hex the Slytherins into oblivion. The twins were meanwhile planning to pull off a major prank on the entire Slytherin house.
"Do me a favour and try to control your students, Severus", said McGonagall coldly.
Snape said nothing, but deep inside he was reminded of how the Marauders had bullied him.
With an unpleasant feeling that this could mean nothing good, he hurried Ron across the entrance hall, down the stone steps, and out into the icy air.
The frosty grass crunched under their feet as they hurried down the sloping lawns toward the stadium. There was no wind at all and the sky was a uniform pearly white, which meant that visibility would be good without the drawback of direct sunlight in the eyes. Harry pointed out these encouraging factors to Ron as they walked, but he was not sure that Ron was listening.
Every Quidditch lover and player in the hall was fighting the urge to grab their broomsticks and go out on the pitch at the mention of the pitch conditions.
Angelina had changed already and was talking to the rest of the team when they entered. Harry and Ron pulled on their robes (Ron attempted to do his up back-to-front for several minutes before Alicia took pity on him and went to help) and then sat down to listen to the pre-match talk while the babble of voices outside grew steadily louder as the crowd came pouring out of the castle toward the pitch.
"Okay, I've only just found out the final lineup for Slytherin," said Angelina, consulting a piece of parchment. "Last year's Beaters, Derrick and Bole, have left now, but it looks as though Montague's replaced them with the usual gorillas, rather than anyone who can fly particularly well. They're two blokes called Crabbe and Goyle, I don't know much about them —"
"We do," said Harry and Ron together.
"Well, they don't look bright enough to tell one end of a broom from another," said Angelina, pocketing her parchment, "but then I was always surprised Derrick and Bole managed to find their way onto the pitch without signposts."
"Crabbe and Goyle are in the same mold," Harry assured her.
Everyone laughed at the dig Angelina took at Crabbe and Goyle, both who were currently cracking their knuckles.
They could hear hundreds of footsteps mounting the banked benches of the spectators' stands now. Some people were singing, though Harry could not make out the words. He was starting to feel nervous, but he knew his butterflies were as nothing to Ron's, who was clutching his stomach and staring straight ahead again, his jaw set and his complexion pale gray.
"It's time," said Angelina in a hushed voice, looking at her watch.
"C'mon everyone . . . good luck."
The team rose, shouldered their brooms, and marched in single file out of the changing room and into the dazzling sunlight. A roar of sound greeted them in which Harry could still hear singing, though it was muffled by the cheers and whistles.
The Slytherin team were standing waiting for them. They too were wearing those silver crown-shaped badges. The new captain, Montague, was built along the same lines as Dudley, with massive forearms like hairy hams. Behind him lurked Crabbe and Goyle, almost as large, blinking stupidly in the sunlight, swinging their new Beaters' bats. Malfoy stood to one side, the sunlight gleaming on his white-blond head. He caught Harry's eye and smirked, tapping the crown-shaped badge on his chest.
"Captains shake hands," ordered the umpire, Madam Hooch, as Angelina and Montague reached each other. Harry could tell that Montague was trying to crush Angelina's fingers, though she did not wince. "Mount your brooms. . . ."
"Is it a tradition for Gryffindor and Slytherin captains to crush each other's hands?", asked a random student, to which he received no answer, since that was the question going on in almost every student's mind.
Madam Hooch placed her whistle in her mouth and blew.
The balls were released and the fourteen players shot upward; out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Ron streak off toward the goal hoops. He zoomed higher, dodging a Bludger, and set off on a wide lap of the pitch, gazing around for a glint of gold; on the other side of the stadium, Draco Malfoy was doing exactly the same.
"And it's Johnson, Johnson with the Quaffle, what a player that girl is, I've been saying it for years but she still won't go out with me —"
"Sorry Lee, but I'm already taken. Thanks for the complement though!", said Angelina, grinning at him. Fred placed an arm around her, mock glaring at Lee.
"It's alright, Angie!", said Lee.
"JORDAN!" yelled Professor McGonagall.
"Just a fun fact, Professor, adds a bit of interest — and she's ducked Warrington, she's passed Montague, she's — ouch — been hit from behind by a Bludger from Crabbe. . . . Montague catches the Quaffle, Montague heading back up the pitch and — nice Bludger there from George Weasley, that's a Bludger to the head for Montague, he drops the Quaffle, caught by Katie Bell, Katie Bell of Gryffindor reverse passes to Alicia Spinnet and Spinnet's away —"
Lee Jordan's commentary rang through the stadium and Harry listened as hard as he could through the wind whistling in his ears and the din of the crowd, all yelling and booing and singing —
"— dodges Warrington, avoids a Bludger — close call, Alicia — and the crowd are loving this, just listen to them, what's that they're singing?"
And as Lee paused to listen the song rose loud and clear from the sea of green and silver in the Slytherin section of the stands:
Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring,
That's why Slytherins all sing:
Weasley is our King.
Weasley was born in a bin,
He always lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley will make sure we win,
Weasley is our King.
The Slytherins tried not to look anywhere else except downwards to avoid the venomous glares being sent to them from everyone else in the hall.
Meanwhile the professors including Dumbledore were disappointed with Severus.
"— and Alicia passes back to Angelina!" Lee shouted, and as Harry swerved, his insides boiling at what he had just heard, he knew Lee was trying to drown out the sound of the singing. "Come on now, Angelina — looks like she's got just the Keeper to beat! — SHE SHOOTS — SHE — aaaah . . ."
Bletchley, the Slytherin Keeper, had saved the goal; he threw the Quaffle to Warrington who sped off with it, zigzagging in between Alicia and Katie; the singing from below grew louder and louder as he drew nearer and nearer Ron —
Weasley is our King,
Weasley is our King,
He always lets the Quaffle in,
Weasley is our King.
Harry could not help himself: Abandoning his search for the Snitch, he turned his Firebolt toward Ron, a lone figure at the far end of the pitch, hovering before the three goal hoops while the massive Warrington pelted toward him . . .
"— and it's Warrington with the Quaffle, Warrington heading for goal, he's out of Bludger range with just the Keeper ahead —"
A great swell of song rose from the Slytherin stands below:
Weasley cannot save a thing,
He cannot block a single ring . . .
"— so it's the first test for new Gryffindor Keeper, Weasley, brother
Of Beaters, Fred and George, and a promising new talent on the
Team — come on, Ron!"
But the scream of delight came from the Slytherin end: Ron had
Dived wildly, his arms wide, and the Quaffle had soared between
Them, straight through Ron's central hoop.
"Slytherin score!" came Lee's voice amid the cheering and booing
From the crowds below. "So that's ten-nil to Slytherin — bad luck,
Ron . . ."
The Slytherins sang even louder:
WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN . . .
A majority of the Gryffindor students finally couldn't hold it back any longer. In a flash, their wands were out and they shot many spells towards the Slytherin table, injuring the Slytherin students who were completely unprepared for such a sudden attack.
The professors managed to stop the fight, but not before the Gryffindors managed to sneak a few more curses in.
"SILENCE!", yelled Dumbledore, and every single person in the hall quietened down, though the Gryffindors were furious with the Slytherins.
"I have never seen such a display!I am ashamed of our house!", said McGonagall, looking at her Lions.
"Maybe if you were to do something about those useless snakes then we wouldn't be taking such an extreme action, professor.", said Seamus, the rest of the house nodding in agreement.
The voice(future Harry) meanwhile frowned. McGonagall hadn't been exactly fair in her punishments towards him. He remembered how Malfoy got off scot free, while he, Fred and George were given bans from Quidditch by Umbridge while McGonagall had done practically nothing to punish Malfoy or go lenient on Harry. He even remembered how McGonagall had sent him, Hermione and Neville to the Forbidden Forest despite said forest being full of dangerous creatures who could've easily harmed them. [1]
Opting to think of it later, he continued to read.
"— and Gryffindor back in possession and it's Katie Bell tanking up the pitch —" cried Lee valiantly, though the singing was now so deafening that he could hardly make himself heard above it.
WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN,
WEASLEY IS OUR KING . . .
"Harry, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" screamed Angelina, soaring past him to keep up with Katie. "GET GOING!"
Harry realized that he had been stationary in midair for more than a minute, watching the progress of the match without sparing a thought for the whereabouts of the Snitch; horrified, he went into a dive and started circling the pitch again, staring around, trying to ignore the chorus now thundering through the stadium:
WEASLEY IS OUR KING,
WEASLEY IS OUR KING . . .
Cue the glares, though no one dared to hex the Slytherins this time.
There was no sign of the Snitch anywhere he looked; Malfoy was still circling the stadium just like Harry. They passed midway around the pitch going in opposite directions and Harry heard Malfoy singing loudly,
WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN . . .
"He still did a better job as keeper than you do as a seeker, Ferret. Or have you forgotten that you couldn't catch the snitch despite being so close?", said Harry, wiping the smirks of the Slytherins' faces as they glared at Malfoy, who was cowering, as the rest of the houses snickered.
"— and it's Warrington again," bellowed Lee, "who passes to Pucey, Pucey's off past Spinnet, come on now Angelina, you can take him — turns out you can't — but nice Bludger from Fred Weasley, I mean, George Weasley, oh who cares, one of them anyway, and Warrington drops the Quaffle and Katie Bell — er — drops it too — so that's Montague with the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Montague takes the Quaffle, and he's off up the pitch, come on now Gryffindor, block him!"
Harry zoomed around the end of the stadium behind the Slytherin goal hoops, willing himself not to look at what was going on at Ron's end; as he sped past the Slytherin Keeper, he heard Bletchley singing along with the crowd below,
WEASLEY CANNOT SAVE A THING . . .
"— and Pucey's dodged Alicia again, and he's heading straight for goal, stop it, Ron!"
Harry did not have to look to see what had happened: There was a terrible groan from the Gryffindor end, coupled with fresh screams and applause from the Slytherins. Looking down, Harry saw the pug-faced Pansy Parkinson right at the front of the stands, her back to the pitch as she conducted the Slytherin supporters who were roaring:
THAT'S WHY SLYTHERINS ALL SING:
WEASLEY IS OUR KING.
"Salazar Slytherin would be rolling in his grave with shame if he saw that the current students of house are a bunch of spineless cowards and cheats.", said Hermione coolly, causing many Slytherins to glare at her with hate. The rest of the houses however voiced their agreement to her words.
Meanwhile at the teachers' table, McGonagall was planning to give Snape a heated lecture about controlling his students.
But twenty-nil was nothing, there was still time for Gryffindor to catch up or catch the Snitch, a few goals and they would be in the lead as usual, Harry assured himself, bobbing and weaving through the other players in pursuit of something shiny that turned out to be Montague's watch strap. . . .
But Ron let in two more goals. There was an edge of panic in Harry's desire to find the Snitch now. If he could just get it soon and finish the game quickly . . .
"I really need to work harder…", muttered Ron, looking down.
"You'll get better over time, Ron. No one's perfect on the first try.", said Harry, consoling him.
"— and Katie Bell of Gryffindor dodges Pucey, ducks Montague, nice swerve, Katie, and she throws to Johnson, Angelina Johnson takes the Quaffle, she's past Warrington, she's heading for goal, come on now Angelina — GRYFFINDOR SCORE! It's forty-ten, forty-ten to Slytherin and Pucey has the Quaffle. . . ."
Harry could hear Luna's ludicrous lion hat roaring amidst the Gryffindor cheers and felt heartened; only thirty points in it, that was nothing, they could pull back easily. Harry ducked a Bludger that Crabbe had sent rocketing in his direction and resumed his frantic scouring of the pitch for the Snitch, keeping one eye on Malfoy in case he showed signs of having spotted it, but Malfoy, like him, was continuing to soar around the stadium, searching fruitlessly . . .
"— Pucey throws to Warrington, Warrington to Montague, Montague back to Pucey — Johnson intervenes, Johnson takes the Quaffle, Johnson to Bell, this looks good — I mean bad — Bell's hit by a bludger from Goyle of Slytherin and it's Pucey in possession again . . ."
WEASLEY WAS BORN IN A BIN,
HE ALWAYS LETS THE QUAFFLE IN,
WEASLEY WILL MAKE SURE WE WIN —
But Harry had seen it at last: The tiny fluttering Golden Snitch was hovering feet from the ground at the Slytherin end of the pitch.
"Go Harry!", cheered the Gryffindors. They knew they had won this match, but rubbing it in the faces of the Slytherins would be even better.
He dived. . . . in a matter of seconds, Malfoy was streaking out of the sky on Harry's left, a green-and-silver blur lying flat on his broom. . . .
The Snitch skirted the foot of one of the goal hoops and scooted off toward the other side of the stands; its change of direction suited Malfoy, who was nearer. Harry pulled his Firebolt around, he and Malfoy were now neck and neck . . .
Feet from the ground, Harry lifted his right hand from his broom, stretching toward the Snitch . . . to his right, Malfoy's arm extended too, reaching, groping . . .
It was over in two breathless, desperate, windswept seconds — Harry's fingers closed around the tiny, struggling ball — Malfoy's fingernails scrabbled the back of Harry's hand hopelessly — Harry pulled his broom upward, holding the struggling ball in his hand and the Gryffindor spectators screamed their approval. . . .
The Gryffindors cheered, while the Slytherins scowled at them.
They were saved, it did not matter that Ron had let in those goals, nobody would remember as long as Gryffindor had won —
WHAM!
"Ouch!", the Gryffindors winced.
A Bludger hit Harry squarely in the small of the back and he flew forward off his broom; luckily he was only five or six feet above the ground, having dived so low to catch the Snitch, but he was winded all the same as he landed flat on his back on the frozen pitch. He heard Madam Hooch's shrill whistle, an uproar in the stands compounded of catcalls, angry yells and jeering, a thud, then Angelina's frantic voice.
"Are you all right?"
" 'Course I am," said Harry grimly, taking her hand and allowing her to pull him to his feet. Madam Hooch was zooming toward one of the Slytherin players above him, though he could not see who it was at this angle.
"It was that thug, Crabbe," said Angelina angrily. "He whacked the Bludger at you the moment he saw you'd got the Snitch — but we won, Harry, we won!"
"Slytherins are a bunch of sore losers, who can't accept their losses.", said Terry, getting nods of agreement from his housemates and most of the hall.
Harry heard a snort from behind him and turned around, still holding the Snitch tightly in his hand: Draco Malfoy had landed close by; white-faced with fury, he was still managing to sneer.
"Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you?" he said to Harry. "I've never seen a worse Keeper . . . but then he was born in a bin. . . . Did you like my lyrics, Potter?"
The Gryffindor teams' faces darkened; remembering exactly what had happened after this and it's aftermath.
Harry did not answer; he turned away to meet the rest of the team who were now landing one by one, yelling and punching the air in triumph, all except Ron, who had dismounted from his broom over by the goalposts and was making his way slowly back to the changing rooms alone.
"We wanted to write another couple of verses!" Malfoy called, as Katie and Alicia hugged Harry. "But we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly — we wanted to sing about his mother, see —"
"How about we talk about your mother, Malfoy?I mean, she seems to have gone sour by going out with your Death Eater father.", retorted Harry.
"Lucius Malfoy is an upstanding citizen!", bellowed Fudge and Umbridge.
"Hey future voice, what is the current status of Lucius Malfoy in the future?", asked Harry.
The voice grinned. "As of my time, Malfoy Sr's name is in disgrace with the Wizarding World. He isn't locked up as far as I know, but he's no longer a political figure, especially due to his association with Voldemort."
"HOW DARE YOU!", shrieked Umbridge.
"Shut it toadface. Your precious Malfoy Sr will be exposed by the end of this book itself.", said the voice.
Many students snickered at the insult towards Umbridge. Meanwhile, Draco looked paler than usual. Seeing this, Ron took the opportunity to mock him.
"Aw, look at little Ferret Jr. Gonna cry?", mocked Ron, as everyone around him laughed.
"Talk about sour grapes," said Angelina, casting Malfoy a disgusted look.
"— we couldn't fit in useless loser either — for his father, you know —"
Fred and George had realized what Malfoy was talking about. Halfway through shaking Harry's hand they stiffened, looking around at Malfoy.
The Weasley children and their friends shot dangerously calm looks towards Malfoy, which were more than enough to make him shrink in fear.
"Leave it," said Angelina at once, taking Fred by the arm. "Leave it, Fred, let him yell, he's just sore he lost, the jumped-up little —"
Molly and Arthur sent looks of approval to Angelina, thanking her for trying to stop Fred.
"— but you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter?" said Malfoy, sneering. "Spend holidays there and everything, don't you? Can't see how you stand the stink, but I suppose when you've been dragged up by Muggles even the Weasleys' hovel smells okay —"
By now, Malfoy was on the receiving end of many glares from everyone. Even the professors were shooting disgusted looks towards Malfoy.
Harry grabbed hold of George; meanwhile it was taking the combined efforts of Angelina, Alicia, and Katie to stop Fred leaping on Malfoy, who was laughing openly. Harry looked around for Madam Hooch, but she was still berating Crabbe for his illegal Bludger attack.
Madam Hooch narrowed her eyes towards the Malfoy boy. So Potter had actually been behaving reasonably well, before assaulting Malfoy, probably because the boy something which angered him.
"Or perhaps," said Malfoy, leering as he backed away, "you can remember what your mother's house stank like, Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it —"
Sirius and Remus shot looks towards Malfoy. Unknown to them, even Snape shot a filthy look towards Malfoy, though he had disguised it well.
He had to speak with the Malfoy boy about showing some respect towards Muggleborns as a whole.
Harry was fighting the urge to hex Malfoy as that scene was read out. The rest of the hall wasn't doing any better than him; all of them, especially the Gryffindors were fingering their wands.
"100 points from Slytherin and a month's worth of detentions with me, Mr Malfoy.", said Professor McGonagall with anger on her face.
"Took you long enough to punish her.", thought Harry and the twins.
Harry was not aware of releasing George, all he knew was that a second later both of them were sprinting at Malfoy. He had completely forgotten the fact that all the teachers were watching: All he wanted to do was cause Malfoy as much pain as possible. With no time to draw out his wand, he merely drew back the fist clutching the Snitch and sank it as hard as he could into Malfoy's stomach —
"Harry! HARRY! GEORGE! NO !"
He could hear girls' voices screaming, Malfoy yelling, George swearing, a whistle blowing, and the bellowing of the crowd around him, but he did not care, not until somebody in the vicinity yelled "IMPEDIMENTA!" and only when he was knocked over backward by the force of the spell did he abandon the attempt to punch every inch of Malfoy he could reach. . . .
"What do you think you're doing?" screamed Madam Hooch, as Harry leapt to his feet again; it was she who had hit him with the Impediment Jinx. She was holding her whistle in one hand and a wand in the other, her broom lay abandoned several feet away. Malfoy was curled up on the ground, whimpering and moaning, his nose bloody; George was sporting a swollen lip; Fred was still being forcibly restrained by the three Chasers, and Crabbe was cackling in the background. "I've never seen behavior like it — back up to the castle, both of you, and straight to your Head of House's office! Go! Now!"
"And what about Malfoy, professor? What about him?", asked a bunch of third years, to which Madam Hooch didn't answer.
Harry and George marched off the pitch, both panting, neither saying a word to each other. The howling and jeering of the crowd grew fainter and fainter until they reached the entrance hall, where they could hear nothing except the sound of their own footsteps. Harry became aware that something was still struggling in his right hand, the knuckles of which he had bruised against Malfoy's jaw; looking down he saw the Snitch's silver wings protruding from between his fingers, struggling for release.
They had barely reached the door of Professor McGonagall's office when she came marching along the corridor behind them. She was wearing a Gryffindor scarf, but tore it from her throat with shaking hands as she strode toward them, looking livid.
"In!" she said furiously, pointing to the door. Harry and George entered. She strode around behind her desk and faced them, quivering with rage as she threw the Gryffindor scarf aside onto the floor.
"Well?" she said. "I have never seen such a disgraceful exhibition. Two onto one! Explain yourselves!"
"Malfoy provoked us," said Harry stiffly.
"Provoked you?" shouted Professor McGonagall, slamming a fist onto her desk so that her tartan biscuit tin slid sideways off it and burst open, littering the floor with Ginger Newts. "He'd just lost, hadn't he, of course he wanted to provoke you! But what on earth he can have said that justified what you two —"
"He insulted my parents," snarled George. "And Harry's mother."
"But instead of leaving it to Madam Hooch to sort out, you two decided to give an exhibition of Muggle dueling, did you?" bellowed Professor McGonagall. "Have you any idea what you've — ?"
"I don't blame them in the slightest, professor. Not after what Malfoy said. I would've blown up at the ferret had he said anything against my mother.", said Michael. Students nodded in agreement, as McGonagall flushed.
"What about Malfoy, professor? Did you punish him, Minerva?", asked Remus, to which McGonagall said nothing.
Remus sighed in disappointment.
"Hem, hem."
George and Harry both spun around. Dolores Umbridge was standing in the doorway wrapped in a green tweed cloak that greatly enhanced her resemblance to a giant toad, and smiling in the horribly sickly, ominous way that Harry had come to associate with imminent misery.
"May I help, Professor McGonagall?" asked Professor Umbridge in her most poisonously sweet voice.
"Oh no, this can't be good.", said a first year Gryffindor.
"It wasn't.", said Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Hermione, Alicia, Angelina and Katie, making the hall wonder what happened.
Blood rushed into Professor McGonagall's face.
"Help?" she repeated in a constricted voice. "What do you mean, 'help'?"
Professor Umbridge moved forward into the office, still smiling her sickly smile.
"Why, I thought you might be grateful for a little extra authority."
Harry would not have been surprised to see sparks fly from Professor McGonagall's nostrils.
"You thought wrong," she said, turning her back on Umbridge. "Now, you two had better listen closely. I do not care what provocation Malfoy offered you, I do not care if he insulted every family member you possess, your behavior was disgusting and I am giving each of you a week's worth of detention! Do not look at me like that, Potter, you deserve it! And if either of you ever —"
"Wait, wait, wait. Malfoy gets off scot-free despite him and the Slytherins bullying us and insulting Harry and the twins' parents, but Harry and the twins get detention for retaliating?!", asked Ernie in shock and disbelief.
Around the hall, similar discussions were happening between the students.
Meanwhile, McGonagall was in the receiving end of shocked and angered looks from the other teachers, especially Flitwick and Sprout.
"That was unfair, Minerva. You cannot blame Mr Potter and the Weasley twins for retaliating, not after what Mr Malfoy said to them. What were you thinking?", asked Flitwick, with disappointment in his voice.
McGonagall looked ashamed. She vowed to be fairer towards the students next time.
The voice frowned at the reminder of what McGonagall had done.
"Hem, hem."
Professor McGonagall closed her eyes as though praying for patience as she turned her face toward Professor Umbridge again.
"Yes?"
"I think they deserve rather more than detentions," said Umbridge, smiling still more broadly.
"Really? They deserve detentions for understandably retaliating in anger?", said Susan, her voice full of disgust for the toad.
Professor McGonagall's eyes flew open. "But unfortunately," she said, with an attempt at a reciprocal smile that made her look as though she had lockjaw, "it is what I think that counts, as they are in My House, Dolores."
"Go McGonagall!", some of the first years cheered, but the rest of the houses said nothing.
"Well, actually, Minerva," simpered Umbridge, "I think you'll find that what I think does count. Now, where is it? Cornelius just sent it. . . . I mean," she gave a little false laugh as she rummaged in her handbag, "the Minister just sent it. . . . Ah yes . . ."
She had pulled out a piece of parchment that she now unfurled, clearing her throat fussily before starting to read what it said. "Hem, hem . . . 'Educational Decree Number Twenty-five . . .' "
"Not another one!" exclaimed Professor McGonagall violently.
"Well, yes," said Umbridge, still smiling. "As a matter of fact, Minerva, it was you who made me see that we needed a further amendment. . . . You remember how you overrode me, when I was unwilling to allow the Gryffindor Quidditch team to re-form? How you took the case to Dumbledore, who insisted that the team be allowed to play? Well, now, I couldn't have that. I contacted the Minister at once, and he quite agreed with me that the High Inquisitor has to have the power to strip pupils of privileges, or she — that is to say, I — would have less authority than common teachers! And you see now, don't you, Minerva, how right I was in attempting to stop the Gryffindor Team re-forming? Dreadful tempers . . . Anyway, I was reading out our amendment . . . hem, hem . . . 'The High Inquisitor will henceforth have supreme authority over all punishments, sanctions, and removal of privileges pertaining to the students of Hogwarts, and the power to alter such punishments, sanctions, and removals of privileges as may have been ordered by other staff members. Signed, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, Order of Merlin First Class, etc., etc. . . .' "
She rolled up the parchment and put it back into her handbag, still smiling.
"So . . . I really think I will have to ban these two from playing Quidditch ever again," she said, looking from Harry to George and back again.
There was a pin drop silence in the hall. No one spoke a word, since everyone was processing what they had just read. The Slytherins were silently shaking with laughter.
Then there were uproars of fury from the hall, especially the Gryffindors.
Some of the Slytherins' were unfortunately caught laughing by the Gryffindors, and before anyone could say a word, a bunch of nasty and deadly curses shot out from the Gryffindors' wands, severely injuring many of the Skytherins. The professors attempted to stop the hexing, but the fury of the Gryffindors made them hesitate. Finally, Dumbledore shot a single spell from hi wand straight up.
"SILENCE!", yelled Dumbledore, and everyone quietened at once, not uttering a single word. Some of the Gryffindors were still furious, but seeing the injured Slytherins gave them a sense of satisfaction.
"Firstly, I don't want anyone casting any spells from now. Do I make myself clear?", asked Dumbledore. Everyone nodded.
"Secondly, 200 points from Slytherin and three months worth detentions for ganging up on a student for bullying and insulting the parents of other students", said Dumbledore and the Slytherins looked horrified, while the Gryffindors and the other houses shot looks of savage satisfaction at seeing the Snakes get their comeuppance.
Harry felt the Snitch fluttering madly in his hand.
"Ban us?" he said, and his voice sounded strangely distant. "From playing . . . ever again?"
"I assure you Mr Potter and Messrs Weasleys, that you won't be under any ban from now, especially with Umbridge's decrees being nullified.", said Amelia. The Gryffindors exchanged grins and cheers at this news.
"Yes, Mr. Potter, I think a lifelong ban ought to do the trick," said Umbridge, her smile widening still further as she watched him struggle to comprehend what she had said. "You and Mr. Weasley here. And I think, to be safe, this young man's twin ought to be stopped too — if his teammates had not restrained him, I feel sure he would have attacked young Mr. Malfoy as well. I will want their broomsticks confiscated, of course; I shall keep them safely in my office, to make sure there is no infringement of my ban. But I am not unreasonable, Professor McGonagall," she continued, turning back to Professor McGonagall who was now standing as still as though carved from ice, staring at her. "The rest of the team can continue playing, I saw no signs of violence from any of them. Well . . . good afternoon to you."
And with a look of the utmost satisfaction Umbridge left the room, leaving a horrified silence in her wake.
"Banned," said Angelina in a hollow voice, late that evening in the common room. "Banned. No Seeker and no Beaters . . . What on earth are we going to do?"
It did not feel as though they had won the match at all. Everywhere Harry looked there were disconsolate and angry faces; the team themselves were slumped around the fire, all apart from Ron, who had not been seen since the end of the match.
The Gryffindors weren't looking so demotivated this time. The uplifting of bans imposed by Umbridge had resurged their hopes.
"It's just so unfair," said Alicia numbly. "I mean, what about Crabbe and that Bludger he hit after the whistle had been blown? Has she banned him?"
"No," said Ginny miserably; she and Hermione were sitting on either side of Harry. "He just got lines, I heard Montague laughing about it at dinner."
Dirty looks were shot towards the Slytherins, especially Crabbe.
"And banning Fred when he didn't even do anything!" said Alicia furiously, pummeling her knee with her fist.
"It's not my fault I didn't," said Fred, with a very ugly look on his face. "I would've pounded the little scumbag to a pulp if you three hadn't been holding me back."
Fred sighed; he wished he could pound the ferret right in his face. George patted him on the back, saying "Maybe next time.".
Harry stared miserably at the dark window. Snow was falling. The Snitch he had caught earlier was now zooming around and around the common room; people were watching its progress as though hypnotized and Crookshanks was leaping from chair to chair, trying to catch it.
"I'm going to bed," said Angelina, getting slowly to her feet. "Maybe this will all turn out to have been a bad dream. . . . Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and find we haven't played yet. . . ."
She was soon followed by Alicia and Katie. Fred and George sloped off to bed some time later, glowering at everyone they passed, and Ginny went not long after that. Only Harry and Hermione were left beside the fire.
"Have you seen Ron?" Hermione asked in a low voice.
Harry shook his head.
"I think he's avoiding us," said Hermione. "Where do you think he — ?"
But at that precise moment, there was a creaking sound behind them as the Fat Lady swung forward and Ron came clambering through the portrait hole. He was very pale indeed and there was snow in his hair. When he saw Harry and Hermione he stopped dead in his tracks.
"Where have you been?" said Hermione anxiously, springing up.
"Walking," Ron mumbled. He was still wearing his Quidditch things.
"You look frozen," said Hermione. "Come and sit down!"
Ron walked to the fireside and sank into the chair farthest from Harry's, not looking at him. The stolen Snitch zoomed over their heads.
"I'm sorry," Ron mumbled, looking at his feet.
"What for?" said Harry.
"For thinking I can play Quidditch," said Ron. "I'm going to resign first thing tomorrow."
"No!Don't resign just like that!", said the Quidditch team members.
"No one's perfect, Ron. Struggling in the first match is alright, even Wood wasn't that great during his first match.", said Angelina gently.
"Yeah, it's alright to be nervous. Don't judge yourself by the basis of one bad day.", said Alicia.
"You can practice alongside us if you want", added the twins.
Ron nodded, thanking Angelina, Alicia and his brothers. "Thanks everyone. I'll try my best.", he said.
"If you resign," said Harry testily, "there'll only be three players left on the team." And when Ron looked puzzled, he said, "I've been given a lifetime ban. So've Fred and George."
"What?" Ron yelped.
"Yeah, that was pretty much our reaction when we heard that Harry, Fred and George were banned.", said Alicia darkly.
Hermione told him the full story; Harry could not bear to tell it again. When she had finished, Ron looked more anguished than ever.
"This is all my fault —"
"You didn't make me punch Malfoy," said Harry angrily.
"— if I wasn't so lousy at Quidditch —"
"— it's got nothing to do with that —"
"— it was that song that wound me up —"
"— it would've wound anyone up —"
"Settle down, both of you! You want to spend you energy, save it for the other teams when we play against them! Better yet, against Slytherin if we encounter them!", said Ginny.
Hermione got up and walked to the window, away from the argument, watching the snow swirling down against the pane.
"Look, drop it, will you!" Harry burst out. "It's bad enough without you blaming yourself for everything!"
Ron said nothing but sat gazing miserably at the damp hem of his robes. After a while he said in a dull voice, "This is the worst I've ever felt in my life."
"Join the club," said Harry bitterly.
"All of us were in the same club that day.", said George, lightening up the mood and bringing out a few Snickers from the others.
"Well," said Hermione, her voice trembling slightly. "I can think of one thing that might cheer you both up."
"Oh yeah?" said Harry skeptically.
"Yeah," said Hermione, turning away from the pitch-black, snow-flecked window, a broad smile spreading across her face. "Hagrid's back."
The trio smiled at the mention of Hagrid.
"That's the end of the chapter. Since it's almost evening, I think we should take a break before resuming.", said the voice. Everyone nodded and a few students left the hall to go out, discussing what they had read so far.
"Harry's life seems to be pretty tough so far.", said Susan, wondering how he had coped up.
"I am actually wondering if we would get to see the night of the third task, considering what the voiced mentioned during the previous chapter it read.", said Hannah.
"I don't believe that Harry would've harmed Cedric in any way.", said Ernie. It was clear from reading these few chapters that Harry didn't seem like the kind to harm his friends.
"I want to know how Hermione's not in Ravenclaw.", said Cho.
"From what I've heard, she stuck with Harry during the Triwizard Tournament when no one believed him.", said Terry. "Maybe she could've been in Hufflepuff too?"
Meanwhile at the Gryffindor Table, the trio were discussing who the voice could be.
"I wonder who the voice is.", said Hermione.
"Seeing how it seems to know everything that's happened with us so far, I'd say it has to be one of us.", said Ron.
"I guess it's me or Ron, since the voice isn't a woman's.", said Harry.
"Maybe we could ask Dumbledore?", said Hermione, shooting a glance at the headmaster.
"On the bright side, our bans have been uplifted.", said the twins, standing behind the trio and laying their hands on Harry and Ron's shoulders.
All of them grinned at the mention of the bans being removed.
[1] Some of McGonagall's actions as a teacher have always left me stumped. Sending a group of first years to the Forbidden Forest at night time for a simple detention,knowing that there are creatures which could've killed and eaten them, punishing Harry and George for retaliating but letting Malfoy off the hook for mocking them, punishing Harry for using an unknown spell in self defense but letting Malfoy off the hook for attempting an Unforgivable Curse simply doesn't sit well with me.