Chapter 5: Mudbloods and an Exorcism

John and Alastor Moody finally arrived at Monsieur Delacour's room in the French Embassy. Even though Alastor Moody was an Auror he wasn't allowed in without escort or the permission from one of the people staying at the Embassy. Fortunately, Monsieur Delacour had spotted them when he was on his way back from wherever he was. He had convinced the Embassy staff to let Alastor and John in, but even that took around ten minutes of doing so.

"Bienvenue to my room Monsieur Moody and Monsieur Constantine," Monsieur Delacour said with a French accent as he opened the door to his room with a room key. The interior of the room was ginormous. It was as big as Hogwarts' courtyard and this was only the living room. Monsieur Delacour must have cast an enchantment to make the room bigger. One could only hope such an enchantment could be undone before a French Muggle diplomat was given the room to stay at the Embassy if desired. There were a few couches surrounding a glass coffee table, and there was a fireplace with an actual fire roaring keeping the room cool letting off light.

"Now then," John said turning to Monsieur Delacour, "Where might I find your daughter?"

"Straight to business then," Monsieur Delacour nodded, "If you'll follow me Monsieur Constantine and Monsieur Moody."

He then led John and Alastor through the room's hallways till they reached a room with a piece of paper hanging on the door. It had a name on it which was Fleur Delacour. Surrounding the name were fireworks constantly going off without any noises. As soon as Monsieur Delacour opened the door, he led them to Fleur's bed where she lay. John didn't pay attention to her room's look as his eyes were only staring at Fleur. Like with Godric Gryffindor's sword, John could only see her. Unlike before, instead of a fog everything was blurred. Not literally, but figuratively. Fleur was incredibly beautiful even if she hadn't become a teen as of yet. Her hair was a silvery-blonde which was enchanting to John. However, he quickly looked away and towards the two adults.

"I'm going to be needing some quiet now," John said, "and don't interrupt me no matter what."

He turned back to Fleur, but this time he was focused on the task at hand. He walked over to her bed, and touched her forehead. However, he quickly brought his hand away due to how hot it was.

"Blimey," John muttered, "she's like a freshly made sword just out of the forge."

He then pulled out a strange looking stone ring and looked through it, but he couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. That caused him to frown.

"Not a lower class demon then…" John muttered. He then frowned even further as he realized that the only way to determine what was possessing her was to use his muggle-magic.

"Do either of you have a dream-catcher?" John asked without looking away from Fleur.

"Non," Monsier Delacour said while Moody grunted a "no".

"Bugger," John muttered, "Guess I'm going to have to be extra careful then."

He formed a mystical circle with his hands similar to how Doctor Strange does things. Monsieur Delacour widened his eyes at that while Alastor only widened one eye. John proceeded to place his left hand over Fleur's eyes and grabbed one of her hands with his right.

"Show yourself child of hell," John said with his eyes rolled up while slightly closing his eyes, "Adiuro te ut non parere! Let me see you for what you are! Ipsum est nomen satanas revelare!"

As soon as he was done with the spell, he stepped back in order to watch. Fortunately, it worked. Unfortunately, the result was terrifying. Fleur's eyes opened, but to everyone's shock the eyes had become pure black. She then sat up and stared at them each, but lingering on John more.

"How dare you tear my from my task John Constantine!" Fleur said with a demonic male voice.

John widened his eyes in shock that the demon knew who he was. That caused the demon to smirk evilly.

"Oh yes," the demon sneered, "I know who you are. We all do, and we can't wait till the end of the human world comes! You will be the sacrificial lamb that shall break the final seal, and the gates of Hell shall opened!"

"Shut your gob or I'll shut it for you!" John yelled angrily.

"No," the demon said evilly, "I think I'll keep talking till you kill yourself in order to escape my voice."

"Whatever you are," Monsieur Delacour said angrily but shakily, "get out of my daughter!"

"You have no power here Alexandre," the demon sneered, "I am the one in control!"

"Release the girl," Moody growled as he pulled out his wand, "or I'll make you."

"The only way to release me old man," the demon sneered at Moody, "is to kill me, but you won't do that, will you?"

When Moody didn't do anything the demon cackled in victory. However, John wasn't having any of it.

"Tell me your name!" John yelled stopping the demon's cackle.

"Okay," the demon laughed, "My name is… go fuck yourself."

John frowned at that before he pulled out a vial of some sort of liquid and opened it. That shut the demon up believing it to be Holy Water. The demon happened to be right about that. John slashed the vial through the air allowing the water to splash onto the demon's face. The demon cried out in pain as it burned.

"Don't worry," John assured Monsieur Delacour, "It's Holy Water. It only harms demons."

"I'm going to rip your throat out Constantine," the demon snarled as its nails grew longer forming into long talons.

"Exorcizamus te," John chanted while glaring at the demon, "omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te…"

The demon suddenly sprang from the bed towards John, but Moody quickly used a spell to tie the demon down onto the bed.

"cessa decipere humanas creaturas," John continued chanting, "eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare…"

"I will rise from the depths of Hell and make you suffer unimaginable pain!" the demon yelled angrily.

"Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis…" John continued chanting as he ignored the demon.

The demon roared in pain and did its best to rip free of the magical bindings Moody used on it.

"Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei; contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine…" John chanted as wind picked up and the room shuddered. That was really odd as wind doesn't exactly occur indoors except when using a fan.

"quem inferi tremunt…" John continued as Fleur's body writhed and twitched while blood began leaking from her eyes, ears, and mouth.

"Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine…" John faltered when he saw the blood and a piece inside of him soured. If he kept up the spell, there was a chance the demon might kill Fleur as it heads to hell.

"What is happening?!" Monsieur Delacour exclaimed as he too saw the blood, "Why is she bleeding?!"

"The demon intends to kill her right before it goes back to Hell," John explained.

"Can you stop it?" Monsieur Delacour asked.

"The only thing I can do is finish the exorcism," John replied grimly, "If I don't… the demon will regain its hold on her body. At which point, it'll for sure tear her soul to ribbons before killing all of us."

"Then…" Monsieur Delacour said sadly, "do what you have to."

John nodded once before he strengthened his resolve and glared at the demon.

"Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire," John finished chanting, "te rogamus, audi nos!"

With that, the demon cried out as it left Fleur's body. They watched as black smoke exited her mouth before heading down towards the floor where it vanished. Fleur's eyes returned to normal, and her body went limp. John then took a step forward and placed his hand on her forehead. Compared to earlier, her temperature was cool to the touch. He then checked for a pulse at her neck, and after a second he felt one.

"It's done," John said as he took a step back, "and she's alive. All that needs to be done now is to heal whatever the damage did to her. Which is not my area of expertise."

"Thank you," Monsieur Delacour said genuinely, "Thank you so much Monsieur Constantine, and you as well Monsieur Moody."

Moody just grunted in response.

"There has to be some way I can repay you Monsieur Constantine," Monsieur Delacour said.

This was the first time John was tempted to ask for something in return, but he wouldn't dare be greedy. He has no desire to become anymore like the Malfoys than he already is.

"No," John said, "I don't want any money, and it's way too soon to be thinking about marriage. Besides forcing her to be with someone she doesn't even like immensely… is way too controlling."

Monsieur Delacour regarded John for a few minutes before he smiled and held out his hand.

"I do believe that ma fille would like you very much," Monsieur Delacour said, "You are very honorable Monsieur Constantine. You are welcome at our home in France any time."

"Well then," John said taking the man's hand, "I suppose I could come by to check her out-I mean- check on her to see if she's still demon free. Right now, I have to get back to Hogwarts."

At that, John and Alastor Moody left Monsieur Delacour's room by walking through the Embassy as to not cause suspicion. If they had apparated, their trustworthiness would be under scrutiny by the French Embassy.

A few days later, with Harry…

Harry spent a lot of time over the next few days dodging out of sight whenever he saw Gilderoy Lockhart coming down a corridor. Harder to avoid was Colin Creevey, who seemed to have memorized Harry's schedule. Nothing seemed to give Colin a bigger thrill than to say, "All right, Harry?" six or seven times a day and hear, "Hello, Colin," back, however exasperated Harry sounded when he said it.

Ron had been released from the infirmary by Madam Pomfrey the day after the "eat slug" incident. Speaking of Ron, his wand was still malfunctioning, surpassing itself on Friday morning by shooting out of Ron's hand in Charms and hitting tiny old Professor Flitwick squarely between the eyes, creating a large, throbbing green boil where it had struck. So with one thing and another, Harry was quite glad to reach the weekend. He, Ron, and Hermione were planning to visit Hagrid on Saturday morning. Harry, however, was shaken awake several hours earlier than he would have liked by Oliver Wood, Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

"Whassamatter?" asked Harry groggily.

"Quidditch practice!" said Wood impatiently, "Come on!"

Harry squinted at the window. There was a thin mist hanging across the pink-and-gold sky. Now that he was awake, he couldn't understand how he could have slept through the racket the birds were making.

"Oliver," Harry croaked, "It's the crack of dawn."

"Exactly," said Wood. He was a tall and burly sixth year and, at the moment, his eyes were gleaming with a crazed enthusiasm.

"It's part of our new training program. Come on, grab your broom, and let's go," said Wood heartily, "None of the other teams have started training yet; we're going to be first off the mark this year…"

Yawning and shivering slightly, Harry climbed out of bed and tried to find his Quidditch robes.

"Good man," said Wood, "Meet you on the field in fifteen minutes."

When he'd found his scarlet team robes and pulled on his cloak for warmth, Harry scribbled a note to Ron explaining where he'd gone and went down the spiral staircase to the common room, his Nimbus Two Thousand on his shoulder. He had just reached the portrait hole when there was a clatter behind him and Colin Creevey came dashing down the spiral staircase, his camera swinging madly around his neck and something clutched in his hand.

"I heard someone saying your name on the stairs, Harry!" Colin said excitedly, "Look what I've got here! I've had it developed, I wanted to show you…"

Harry looked bemusedly at the photograph Colin was brandishing under his nose.

A moving, black-and-white Lockhart was tugging hard on an arm Harry recognized as his own. He was pleased to see that his photographic self was putting up a good fight and refusing to be dragged into view. As Harry watched, Lockhart gave up and slumped, panting, against the white edge of the picture.

"Will you sign it?" asked Colin eagerly.

"No," said Harry flatly, glancing around to check that the room was really deserted, "Sorry, Colin, I'm in a hurry… Quidditch practice…"

He climbed through the portrait hole.

"Oh, wow!" Colin said excitedly, "Wait for me! I've never watched a Quidditch game before!"

Colin scrambled through the hole after him.

"It'll be really boring," Harry said quickly, but Colin ignored him, his face shining with excitement.

"You were the youngest House player in a hundred years, weren't you, Harry? Weren't you?" rambled Colin, trotting alongside him, "You must be brilliant. I've never flown. Is it easy? Is that your own broom? Is that the best one there is?"

Harry didn't know how to get rid of him. It was like having an extremely talkative shadow.

"I don't really understand Quidditch," rambled Colin breathlessly, "Is it true there are four balls? And two of them fly around trying to knock people off their brooms?"

"Yes," said Harry heavily, resigned to explaining the complicated rules of Quidditch. "They're called Bludgers. There are two Beaters on each team who carry clubs to beat the Bludgers away from their side. Fred and George Weasley are the Gryffindor Beaters."

"And what are the other balls for?" Colin asked, tripping down a couple of steps because he was gazing open-mouthed at Harry.

"Well, the Quaffle…" Harry continued explaining, "that's the biggish red one… is the one that scores goals. Three Chasers on each team throw the Quaffle to each other and try and get it through the goal posts at the end of the pitch… they're three long poles with hoops on the end."

"And the fourth ball?" Colin asked.

"That is the Golden Snitch," said Harry, "and it's very small, very fast, and difficult to catch. But that's what the Seeker's got to do, because a game of Quidditch doesn't end until the Snitch has been caught. And whichever team's Seeker gets the Snitch earns his team an extra hundred and fifty points."

"And you're the Gryffindor Seeker, aren't you?" asked Colin in awe.

"Yes," said Harry as they left the castle and started across the dew-drenched grass, "And there's the Keeper, too. He guards the goal posts. That's it, really."

Unfortunately, Colin didn't stop questioning Harry all the way down the sloping lawns to the Quidditch field, and Harry only shook him off when he reached the changing rooms; Colin called after him in a piping voice, "I'll go and get a good seat, Harry!" and hurried off to the stands.

The rest of the Gryffindor team were already in the changing room. Wood was the only person who looked truly awake. Fred and George Weasley were sitting, puffy-eyed and tousle-haired, next to fourth year Alicia Spinnet, who seemed to be nodding off against the wall behind her. Her fellow Chasers, Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, were yawning side by side opposite them.

"There you are, Harry, what kept you?" said Wood briskly, "Now, I wanted a quick talk with you all before we actually get onto the field, because I spent the summer devising a whole new training program, which I really think will make all the difference…"

Wood was holding up a large diagram of a Quidditch field, on which were drawn many lines, arrows, and crosses in different-colored inks. He took out his wand, tapped the board, and the arrows began to wiggle over the diagram like caterpillars. As Wood launched into a speech about his new tactics, Fred Weasley's head drooped right onto Alicia Spinnet's shoulder and he began to snore.

The first board took nearly twenty minutes to explain, but there was another board under that, and a third under that one. Harry sank into a stupor as Wood droned on and on.

"So," said Wood, at long last, jerking Harry from a wistful fantasy about what he could be eating for breakfast at this very moment up at the castle. "Is that clear? Any questions?"

"I've got a question, Oliver," said George, who had woken with a start, "Why couldn't you have told us all this yesterday when we were awake?"

Wood wasn't pleased.

"Now, listen here, you lot," he said, glowering at them all, "We should have won the Quidditch Cup last year. We're easily the best team. But unfortunately… owing to circumstances beyond our control…"

Harry shifted guiltily in his seat. He had been unconscious in the hospital wing for the final match of the previous year, meaning that Gryffindor had been a player short and had suffered their worst defeat in three hundred years.

Wood took a moment to regain control of himself. Their last defeat was clearly still torturing him.

"So this year, we train harder than ever before… Okay, let's go and put our new theories into practice!" Wood shouted, seizing his broomstick and leading the way out of the locker rooms. Stiff-legged and still yawning, his team followed.

They had been in the locker room so long that the sun was up completely now, although remnants of mist hung over the grass in the stadium. As Harry walked onto the field, he saw Ron, Hermione, and John sitting in the stands.

"Aren't you finished yet?" called Ron incredulously.

"Haven't even started," said Harry, looking jealously at the toast and marmalade Ron and Hermione had brought out of the Great Hall, "Wood's been teaching us new moves."

He mounted his broomstick and kicked at the ground, soaring up into the air. The cool morning air whipped his face, waking him far more effectively than Wood's long talk. It felt wonderful to be back on the Quidditch field. He soared right around the stadium at full speed, racing Fred and George.

"What's that funny clicking noise?" called Fred as they hurtled around the corner.

Harry looked into the stands. Colin was sitting in one of the highest seats, his camera raised, taking picture after picture, the sound strangely magnified in the deserted stadium.

"Look this way, Harry! This way!" he cried shrilly.

"Who's that?" asked Fred.

"No idea," Harry lied, putting on a spurt of speed that took him as far away as possible from Colin.

"What's going on?" said Wood, frowning, as he skimmed through the air toward them, "Why's that first year taking pictures? I don't like it. He could be a Slytherin spy, trying to find out about our new training program."

"He's in Gryffindor," said Harry quickly.

"And the Slytherins don't need a spy, Oliver," said George.

"Because they're here in person," said George, pointing.

Several people in green robes were walking onto the field, broomsticks in their hands.

"I don't believe it!" Wood hissed in outrage, "I booked the field for today! We'll see about this!"

Wood shot toward the ground, landing rather harder than he meant to in his anger, staggering slightly as he dismounted. Harry, Fred, and George followed.

"Flint!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin Captain, "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

Marcus Flint was even larger than Wood. He had a look of trollish cunning on his face as he replied, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie had come over, too. There were no girls on the Slytherin team, who stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the Gryffindors, leering to a man.

"But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"

"Ah," said Flint, "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.'"

"You've got a new Seeker?" said Wood, distracted, "Where?"

And from behind the six large figures before them came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking all over his pale, pointed face. It was Draco Malfoy.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" said Fred, looking at Malfoy with dislike.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," said Flint as the whole Slytherin team smiled still more broadly, "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words Nimbus Two Thousand and One gleamed under the Gryffindors' noses in the early morning sun.

"Very latest model. Only came out last month," said Flint carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own, "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps…"

"Sweeps the board with them," Flint finished as he smiled nastily at Fred and George, who were both clutching Cleansweep Fives.

None of the Gryffindor team could think of anything to say for a moment. Malfoy was smirking so broadly his cold eyes were reduced to slits.

"Oh, look," said Flint, "A field invasion."

Ron, Hermione, and John were crossing the grass to see what was going on.

"What's happening?" Ron asked Harry, "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?"

"Use your brain Ron," John said glaring at Draco who returned the glare, "he's the new Slytherin seeker."

"My traitor of a cousin is right," said Malfoy, smugly, "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."

Ron gaped, openmouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.

"Good, aren't they?" said Malfoy smoothly, "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherin team howled with laughter.

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent."

The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.

Harry knew at once that Malfoy had said something really bad because there was an instant uproar at his words. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him.

"How dare you!" Alicia shrieked.

Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!"

However, John beat him to the punch. Literally. Instead of magic, John elected to go for good ol' fist-to-cuffs. He delivered a strong right hook into Malfoy's face which knocked him back. John proceeded to tackle Draco and began pummeling him. Draco was definitely not used to nfist fights, so he had no idea what to do. All Draco could do was hold his arms up to ward off the attacks. However, John was able to get passed Draco's arms as he grabbed Draco by the neck and squeezed.

"John!" Hermione gasped horrified as Draco's face began getting purple. Noticing this, Harry and Ron tried to pull John off. However, before they could touch him John began combusting. Strangely enough, John and his clothing weren't being affected by the flames.

Suddenly, John was sent flying back away from Draco by some unknown force. As soon as he hit the ground, he fell unconscious and the flames vanished. Harry and Ron looked to see the one responsible and saw Prue standing walking towards them.

"What is going on here?" Prue asked with a stern expression. However, none of them knew precisely what was going on except for the stuff prior to John's sudden combustion.

The Slytherin and Gryffindor teams were paralyzed with shock at what they had seen. Flint was doubled over in pain as the Weasley Twins had kicked him in the balls in unison. Flint had to hang onto his new broomstick for support. Malfoy was
Slowly pushing himself into a sitting position now that his breath had been restored to him. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were gathered around John's unconscious form. They were nervous, but that wasn't going to stop them from helping their friend. Even Prue was helping as she had a crush on John that she wouldn't admit to having.

"We'd better get him to Hagrid's, it's nearest," said Harry to the other three, who all nodded bravely, and the trio pulled John up by the arms.

"What happened, Harry? What happened? Is he ill? But you can cure him, can't you?" Colin had run down from his seat and was now dancing alongside them as they left the field.

"Get out of the way, Colin!" snapped Harry angrily. The trio carried John out of the stadium and across the grounds toward the edge of the forest.

They were within twenty feet of Hagrid's house when the front door opened, but it wasn't Hagrid who emerged. Gilderoy Lockhart, wearing robes of palest mauve today, came striding out.

"Quick, behind here," Harry hissed, dragging John behind a nearby bush with the help of ron. Hermione and Prue followed, somewhat reluctantly.

"It's a simple matter if you know what you're doing!" Lockhart was saying loudly to Hagrid, "If you need help, you know where I am! I'll let you have a copy of my book. I'm surprised you haven't already got one… I'll sign one tonight and send it over. Well, good-bye!" And he strode away toward the castle.

Harry and Ron waited until Lockhart was out of sight, then pulled John out of the bush and up to Hagrid's front door. They knocked urgently. Hagrid appeared at once, looking very grumpy, but his expression brightened when he saw who it was.

"Bin wonderin' when you'd come ter see me…" Hagrid said happily, "come in, come in… thought you mighta bin Professor Lockhart back again…"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Prue supported John over the threshold into the one-roomed cabin, which had an enormous bed in one corner, a fire crackling merrily in the other. Hagrid didn't seem perturbed by John being unconscious, which Harry hastily explained as he lowered John into a chair.

"So he caught fire?" Hagrid asked trying to comprehend, "but he don' look crispy…"

"That's what freaks us out," Hermione admitted from her chair which was as far from John as possible.

"Ain't never heard of summit like this before," Hagrid admitted as he stared at John, "but yeh don' have tah fear 'im. He's still yer friend righ'?"

"Yes," Harry and Prue said immediately. The other two were a bit more reluctant though.

Hagrid was bustling around making them tea. His boarhound, Fang, was slobbering over Harry.

"Good thing yah stopped 'im Prue," Hagrid said, "If he killed anyone, John'd be in big trouble with the Ministry. Never mind the school."

"What did Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?" Harry asked changing the subject, scratching Fang's ears.

"Givin'me advice on gettin' kelpies out of a well," growled Hagrid, moving a half-plucked rooster off his scrubbed table and setting down the teapot, "Like I don' know. An' bangin' on about some banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I'll eat my kettle."

It was most unlike Hagrid to criticize a Hogwarts teacher, and Harry looked at him in surprise. Hermione, however, said in a voice somewhat higher than usual, "I think you're being a bit unfair. Professor Dumbledore obviously thought he was the best man for the job…"

"He was the on'y man for the job," said Hagrid, offering them a plate of treacle toffee, while John remained unconscious, "An' I mean the on'y one. Gettin' very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren't too keen ter take it on, see. They're startin' ter think it's jinxed. No one's lasted long fer a while now."

"So tell me," said Hagrid, jerking his head at John. "Who was he tryin' ter kill?"

"Malfoy called Hermione something…" Harry said confused about why everyone, especially John, acted the way they did, "it must've been really bad, because everyone went wild."

"It was bad," said Ron angrily, "Malfoy called her 'Mudblood,' Hagrid…"

Ron trailed off so he could force himself to calm down. Hagrid however, was outraged.

"He didn'!" he growled at Hermione.

"He did," she said as confused as Harry, "But I don't know what it means. I could tell it was really rude, of course…"

"It's about the most insulting thing he could think of," said Prue bitterly. "Mudblood's a really foul name for someone who is born of two no-mages, There are some wizards… like Malfoy's family… who think they're better than everyone else because they're what people call pure-blood."

"No-mages?" Hermione asked.

"Non-wizards," Prue clarified.

"Ah," Hermione said, "We call them muggles."

"Anyway, the rest of us know it doesn't make any difference at all," Prue finished.

"Exactly," Ron agreed, "Look at Neville Longbottom... he's pure-blood and he can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up."

"An' they haven't invented a spell our Hermione can' do," said Hagrid proudly, making Hermione go a brilliant shade of magenta.

"It's a disgusting thing to call someone," said Ron "Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It's ridiculous. Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. If we hadn't married Muggles we'd've died out."

"Americans are still forbidden from doing so by law," Prue sighed, "It's probably why we were raised in Paris till she divorced my father."

"Well, I don' blame John fer tryin' ter kill him," said Hagrid, "Bu' it was a good thing yeh stopped im' Prue. 'Spect Lucius Malfoy would've demanded that John be put ter death if he had killed his son. He almost killed John in Knockturne alley after all. Here's to hopin' that John'll be given just a warnin'."

Harry would have pointed out that being rendered unconscious is more than enough punishment for attempted murder. Unfortunately, Hagrid's treacle toffee had cemented his jaws together.

"Harry," said Hagrid abruptly as though struck by a sudden thought, "Gotta bone ter pick with yeh. I've heard you've bin givin' out signed photos. How come I haven't got one?"

Furious, Harry wrenched his teeth apart.

"I have not been giving out signed photos," he said hotly, "If Lockhart's still spreading that around…"

But then he saw that Hagrid was laughing.

"I'm on'y jokin'," he said, patting Harry genially on the back and sending him face first into the table, "I knew yeh hadn't really. I told Lockhart yeh didn' need teh. Yer more famous than him without tryin'."

"Bet he didn't like that," said Harry, sitting up and rubbing his chin.

"Don' think he did," said Hagrid, his eyes twinkling. "An' then I told him I'd never read one o' his books an' he decided ter go."

"Treacle toffee, anyone?" he added once he realized practically nobody had eaten any.

Everyone except for John, who was still unconscious, shook their heads no.

"Come an' see what I've bin growin'," said Hagrid as Harry and Hermione finished the last of their tea.

In the small vegetable patch behind Hagrid's house were a dozen of the largest pumpkins Harry had ever seen. Each was the size of a large boulder.

"Gettin' on well, aren't they?" said Hagrid happily, "Fer the Halloween feast… should be big enough by then."

"What've you been feeding them?" asked Harry shocked at how huge they were.

Hagrid looked over his shoulder to check that they were alone.

"Well, I've bin givin' them… you know… a bit o' help…" Hagrid said quietly.

Harry noticed Hagrid's flowery pink umbrella leaning against the back wall of the cabin. Harry had had reason to believe before now that this umbrella was not all it appeared; in fact, he had the strong impression that Hagrid's old school wand was concealed inside it. Hagrid wasn't supposed to use magic. He had been expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, but Harry had never found out why… any mention of the matter and Hagrid would clear his throat loudly and become mysteriously deaf until the subject was changed.

"An Engorgement Charm, I suppose?" said Hermione, halfway between disapproval and amusement, "Well, you've done a good job on them."

"That's what yer little sisters said," said Hagrid, nodding at Ron and Prue, "Met her jus' yesterday."

Hagrid looked sideways at Harry, his beard twitching.

"Said she was jus' lookin' round the grounds, but I reckon she was hopin' she might run inter someone else at my house." He winked at Harry. "If yeh ask me, she wouldn' say no ter a signed…"

"Oh, shut up," said Harry. Ron and Prue both snorted with laughter.

"Why is there a bloody dog drooling on me," exclaimed the voice of John from inside Hagrid's hut, "and how did I get here?!"

It was nearly lunchtime and as Harry had only had one bit of treacle toffee since dawn, he was keen to go back to school to eat. They said goodbye to Hagrid and walked back up to the castle.

They had barely set foot in the cool entrance hall when a voice rang out, "There you are John! Before you head to the Great Hall, I need to speak with you."

With a sigh, John headed over to Professor Flitwick who was near the door to the moving stairs.

"I have heard an interesting tale about you," the short wizard said, "and I'd like to hear it again, but this time from you."

John realized that Professor Flitwick was talking about the incident on the Quidditch field. With a sigh, he began telling Flitwick of everything he remembered happening which ended at him punching Draco. Everything else, was from what Ron, Harry, and Hermione had told him.

"I honestly can't believe that I tried to kill my own cousin," John admitted, "I mean, I hate the little shit but I don't want him dead. I also can't believe I combusted and survived it."

"Hmm," Flitwick said regarding John, "I had originally intended to give you detention, but till I can determine if your actions post-punching Draco were voluntary or not… consider yourself on notice. To ensure nothing like this ever happens again, you and your cousin will be kept far away."

"That's fine with me," John said. At that, Flitwick allowed John to head to the Great Hall in order to have some lunch. Everyone looked at John as he entered the Great Hall, and it wasn't a nice expression either. They were afraid. Especially, Draco who was paler than snow itself and obviously trembling as the barbecue sauce on his steak was going every which way and that. John immediately lost his appetite and left the Great Hall to wander around the castle on his own. He eventually ended up in the observatory. Wasn't his intention of course, but he decided to just stay there and stare over the observatory's balcony while leaning on the railing.

It felt like a few hours had passed since he saw the terrified expressions of the students in the Great Hall when he heard some steps behind him. However, he just ignored them as he didn't care who was there at all.

"Give them time," said the voice of Dumbledore, "They'll get over their fear of you."

"For all I know," John said bitterly, "They're right to fear me."

"Both muggles and wizard-kind fear the unknown," Dumbledore said as he leaned next to John, "however, with the right actions their fear can be replaced with a much kinder emotion. All you have to do is prove you're not the monster they see you as."

"How long will that take Professor?" John asked finally turning to look at the Headmaster.

"I don't know," Albus admitted, "All I can say for sure, is that it will eventually happen. Whether it be next month or next year, everything will get better. Not as it once was, but better."

"Any idea how I can combust without dying?" John asked.

"No," Albus said, "But I'll do all I can to help you figure it out."

At that, they just turned to stare out at the grounds of Hogwarts in silence.

Translations:

Latin - English

1. Adiuro te ut non parere - I demand that you obey

2. Ipsum est nomen satanas revelare - Reveal thyself on Satan's name

3. Exorcizamus te omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo, omnis legio diabolica, adiuramus te… - We exorcise you, every impure spirit, every satanic power, every incursion of the infernal adversary, every legion, every congregation and diabolical sect. Therefore, diabolical legions, we adjure you ...

4. cessa decipere humanas creaturas eisque æternæ perditionìs venenum propinare… - Cease to deceive human creatures, and to give to them the poison of eternal damnation; ...

5. Vade, satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciæ, hostis humanæ salutis… - Be gone, Satan, inventor and master of all deceit, enemy of man's salvation ...

6. Humiliare sub potenti manu Dei; contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine… - Be humble under the mighty hand of God; tremble and flee when we invoke the Holy and Terrible Name

7. quem inferi tremunt… - at which those down below tremble ...

8. Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine - from the snares of the devil, deliver us, O Lord

9. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire," John finished chanting, "te rogamus, audi nos - That Thy Church may serve Thee in peace and liberty to serve, we ask Thee, hear us.

A/N:

i didn't expect to have chapter 5 out so soon tbh, but i guess i was really in the mood to work on this fanfic.

i originally hadn't intended to give John the ability to summon flame, but i honestly couldn't figure out how else to do this. anyhoo, how do you like the chapter. as always, please favorite if you like the story, follow if you want to stay updated, and leave a review/comment if you have a question or a good opinion about the chapter. only nice questions pls.