AN: Magic and Malfoys
I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters - I am just borrowing them from JK Rowling. I will return them when I have finished but they will be a little bent out of shape, sorry!
So we start in 1991 with Draco ready to attend Hogwarts school of Wizardry. We will meet the full cast of Harry Potter as we travel through the school years, but I have, and I apologise for this, played fast and loose with Rowling's characters. (With a few of my own chucked in for good measure.) Some are very out of character, I know some people don't like that.
This wont be for every one, I want to make that clear now - if you are offended by fictional beings (including pre-teens/teens shock!) being knocked about, physically punished, swearing, fighting etc etc, then please go and find something else to read. THIS IS NOT REAL and I am too old to be dealing with people spitting their dummy out with shitty reviews when they were forewarned and will simply delete.
Strap in and send me a lovely a review if you are so inclined!
July 1991, Summer Ball
In the safety of his bedroom, 11-year-old Draco Malfoy told his father off for his abysmal behaviour. Eyes fixed on the back of the door, he yelled in a silent fury with tears streaming his face and his fists clenched at his sides. His bedroom witnessed the same scene with some frequency, always silent lest his father should actually hear him. The very thought of such a thing sent a shiver up Draco's spine.
After thoroughly disciplining the door, Draco turned his back and headed for the heavily draped window. As he passed the end of his bed, he booted his school truck with all of his might.
It was a Malfoy family heirloom. Constructed from an old oak that once grew in the manor grounds, it wore the Malfoy coat of arms on the lid and a large 'M' on the front in Slytherin green. It had sat proudly at the end of his four-poster bed for as long as Draco could remember. After years of anticipation, he was finally getting to use it.
Draco was ending his time with boring tutors who'd taught him nothing of magic - just maths and English and history, history, history! The young wizard camps had been slightly better – Draco learned some magic there, but nothing dark. Nothing exciting enough to quell his thirst for magic making. He was finally going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! He'd been so excited but since Harry bloody Potter had invaded his extended family, Draco could think of nothing worse.
He kicked the trunk again, then looked down at his feet. There was no mark on the trunk, but his black dress shoes were scuffed across the front of his right foot.
His mother wouldn't like that. He bent down quickly to rub the scuff away but shot back up when he felt the sting in his bottom.
Fancy being smacked in front of the Sacred-28! Half of them? A good few of them, at least. The boy's cheeks burned with embarrassment, though he thanked Merlin his friends had yet to arrive.
How many times had he told his father that such punishments were behind him now he would be going to Hogwarts. Lucius laughed every time and said they would be behind him when he said so and not a moment before.
Draco knew his friends had been similarly disappointed by their own parents. But he was Draco Malfoy, and he was better than them, so it was different. Surely it was.
It was all Harry Potter's fault anyway. Harry Potter and Sirius Black. Their fault and theirs alone. Draco had only told the truth - Sirius should be ashamed of himself bringing a half-blood into the family.
Draco drifted away from his trunk and over to the window. He moved the heavy green drapes aside so he could look down on the steady flow of guests making their way toward to the manor. At the black iron gates displaying the Malfoy family crest, Draco watched as magical floating horse drawn carriages paused to allow more guests to join the march down the white gravel path.
He spotted Theo Nott trailing behind his parents and waved, though Theo didn't see. The dark-haired eleven-year-old had his face to the floor as he trudged along. Despite Theo's natural revulsion to anything social, Draco was good friends with the boy. Best friends, even. Along with Blaise Zambini. Their families socialised together a lot and the boys were friends from the cradle.
Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were always close behind, whether Draco and the others wanted them or not. They were generally inoffensive but neither had the wit or wisdom to keep up with Draco, Theo or Blaise. Draco imagined they would prove useful at some point, through. Maybe as muscle? Thats must have been why his father kept their Crabbe and Goyle senior around - it couldn't be for their scintillating personalities.
Draco saw Minister Fudge, the fat oaf, and his equally fat and oafing wife arriving. He knew the Summer Ball hosted all the greats and goods of their world, but why they had to entertain the likes of Fudge was beyond Draco's comprehension. Fudge didn't come from a Sacred-28, pure-blood family. The way the Minister salivated over his mother, Narcissa, turned Draco's stomach.
He turned his back on the glass and attempted to perch against the window seat, only for his father's handprint to scorch his backside all over again.
"It's not fair!" the boy wailed to himself.
It would be his very first Summer Ball and Harry Potter had stolen his thunder!
Children weren't invited to the special parties his parents hosted so Draco wasn't allowed to revelries in his own bloody home. After their eleventh birthday, children were seen as mature enough to attend and Draco had been so excited. So had all his friends. Except for Theo, but he hated parties.
Draco hadn't even done anything wrong to earn such scorn from his parents. He'd only told the truth – Harry should be careful who he associated with. Making friends with wrong sort could be social suicide. The Weasleys, who Harry had been drawn to, were blood-traitors and should be avoided at all costs.
Molly Weasley wasn't pleased to hear Draco explaining the wizarding world in such a way. Lucius Malfoy had been even less pleased. Draco couldn't understand why - he was sure he'd heard his father expressing similar views. Okay, Lucius wasn't one for naming names, but the implication was clear…to Draco at least. When the boy admitted what he'd said, his father, ever the peaceful and gentle man, swiped his hand across his son's backside five times in succession before depositing Draco in his room to think about what he'd done.
Draco rubbed the sting in his rear - the only thing he could think about was the ridiculousness of it all.
Led by Narcissa, Draco's own traitorous mother who he doubted he'd ever forgive, the Blacks squandered half the Black family fortune to have Sirius released from Azkaban prison. In the end, all it took was a wally like Arthur Weasley to realise he'd been harbouring a criminal for 11 years. He cast a revelio spell on his son's rat and Peter Petigrew emerged with a swirl where the creature had stood. The Weasley patriarch should have been thrown in Azkaban for being so dense in the first place. And he let the rat get away before the Ministry could get there. Useless.
It had been enough for the Ministry to grant a trial for Sirius, and they released him the very next day to much fan-fayre in the wizarding community - they seemed to be as pleased with his release as they were with his capture. Although much of the money was gone, the Black family home remained, which Sirius returned to.
And what did the stupid mutt do as his first act as a free man? He applied for guardianship of 'the boy who lived'. What a naff title. No where near as impressive as 'he who must not be named'.
It was the Ministry's misjudgement that had wrongfully sent Sirius to prison, and, perhaps wishing to absolve themselves, they wanted to ease the ex-convict back into the wizarding world. They were also sympathetic to Harry Potter's situation, but they weren't keen on giving the boy to Sirius Black, despite the fact that he was the boy's Godfather. At Narcissa's insistence, Lucius lobbied every contact he had to swing things in Sirius' favour.
So, Harry Potter was now Draco Malfoy's cousin of sorts. Their parents were cousins and that made them one big happy family, apparently. The shame! Draco could honestly be sick just thinking about it.
Still, Sirius was family—there was no disputing that—but why did his parents insist on Draco referring to him as 'Uncle Sirius' when he wasn't. Your mother's cousin is not your bloody uncle! Narcissa was unimpressed with Draco pointing it out at Sirius's welcome home party a month ago. Apparently pointing out facts is obnoxious. Who knew? At least only proper family (if extended) had been there for the slap on the legs she gave him. Draco's small hand graced his left thigh, sure he could still feel the burn she had left there, if only in memory. Vicious woman.
At least his parents agreed there were concerns with Sirius taking Harry Potter into the family home. Naturally, their reason for thinking so was different to Draco's. Lucius and Narcissa said it put Sirius at risk if the Dark Lord ever returned, as he would surely direct much of his ire at Harry. For Sirius, that made having Harry under his care even more important. It was 'his duty and his honour', he'd told the wider family.
Draco couldn't care less about Sirius ex-convict-who-stole-Draco's-inheritance Black or Harry the-boy-who-accidentally-lived-through-dumb-luck Potter.
That was a lie - Harry's very existence riled the boy. Draco had been in line to receive the entire Black estate through his mother. With Sirius out of prison and Harry as his supposed heir, Draco had just lost the whole Black fortune! It was his money the family had spent on getting the mongrel freed. And then his parents wondered why he was fed up. They must be quite mad, Draco believed.
He'd taken to calling Harry the 'half-breed'. Being a half-blood was already lower than being pure-blood, which went without saying, but now Harry would be raised by a dog. An actual dog! Half-breed seemed more appropriate. Draco knew he'd have to make sure it didn't get back to his mother of course - she didn't like him cursing at the best of times without said curses being directed toward family. Family? What a joke.
He'd get Crabbe or maybe Goyle to call Harry a half-breed - Draco just wanted the little hero to hear it from someone. Preferably without leaving himself on the hook for it. Crabbe and Goyle were too stupid to have to come up with it themselves, but they were too loyal to dob him in, either.
Hearing footsteps approaching, Draco stood up straight and bowed his head. He could tell from the thumping with every second foot drop that his father would be there monetarily.
Lucius knocked twice and entered.
Draco felt his gaze land upon him, but he refused to acknowledge his father as he knew he should.
"Draco," Lucius called, his tone soft, his voice calm.
Draco wondered if his luck was turning. Did his father feel guilty for smacking him and sending him away? He should. He deserved to feel guilty in Draco's opinion.
"Come to me, please."
Draco did as he was bid, shuffling to the door where his father waited with his eyes trained on the floor.
Don't look up, he told himself.
"Have you calmed down?"
Absolutely not. "Yes, sir."
"Will we need to have another little chat before the end of this ball?"
Probably. "No, sir."
Lucius sighed "Your friends have started arriving and they're asking for you. Go and find them."
With a loud clang against the door frame, Lucius's cane blocked the boy before he could pass. Draco looked up at his father with trepidation and couldn't help the gasp that escaped his lips seeing the stern expression he wore. He knew his father's face would be twisted into barely suppressed rage which is why he hadn't looked at the men before then.
Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy hosted event after event and they were perfect. Everyone thought so. Even the house elves were expected to acquire dress robes for Malfoy events. They couldn't be gifted them, of course, but they could make their own clothes from material found lying around. There were few things that upset Draco's father more than a lack in decorum or below par standards. Appearances were everything. It was a shame, then, Draco thought, that his father had acted so awfully towards his only child and caused a scene!
"And do include Harry, son. For your mother's sake."
Draco didn't care about his mother's feelings or his father's for that matter - they had both proved to be quite insane on the matter of Uncle Mutt and the half-breed. But what could he say?
"Of course, father."
Annoyingly, Draco's friends were even more interested in Harry Potter being at the Summer Ball than the rest of the wizarding world combined. The girls were anyway. Draco could usually be assured of Pansy Parkinson following him around, telling him how wonderful he was. Daphne Greengrass could be relied on similarly. For some reason they only had eyes for Harry Potter at Draco's own ball. The injustice! Okay, it was a Sacred-28 Ball, and it was a first for almost all of his friends, but still - it was in Malfoy Manor and that was his Manor, damn it!
Thankfully, Vinnie Crabbe and Greg Goyle were there to show the rest of those losers what adoration looked like. They waddled around after Draco agreeing with everything he said, even when it was against one of them! Neither Blaise nor Theo had ever been the adoring type, but they knew they were beneath Draco. He assumed.
After an hour of being smiled at by random old people Draco needed a break from all the cooing over his blond hair, how much he looked like his father, the fact that he'd grown since they last saw him. Don't all children grow? He thought it such an odd thing to comment on. He didn't tell them they looked closer to dying of old age, although he was tempted.
The thought must have been written on Draco's face as his mother swooped in to suggest he take his friends outside to play some games on the lawn. He really wanted to tell her that he was too old to play, actually - he was about to go to Hogwarts for Merlin's sake! But he couldn't risk it. If he hung about, she might tell him to take Harry, too, or, even worse, some of the Weasleys. Draco grabbed his mates and scarpered.
The little gang of would-be first years headed out to the lawn where a life-sized game of wizard chess waited for them. It had been enchanted to be exactly like wizard chess, where the pieces would smash one another apart. The playing pieces were big enough to allow the young wizards to ride them as they moved around the board. Unfortunately, a safety charm had been applied to prevent them from harming the witches and wizards who played, but it was still an exciting game.
There were so many adults around, including half of their parents, so Draco and his friends had to wait their turn. Which meant suffering the indignity of waiting whilst some of the Weasleys finished their round. Draco didn't know all their names, but the scruffy red heads were instantly recognisable as Weasleys regardless. He would have told them to bog off but there were too many interfering adults milling about on the terrace.
When Ron—the only Weasley Draco was sure of the name of as he was the same age as Draco—ended the game against his brother triumphantly, Draco and his crew jumped on the board.
"It's winner stays on, Draco," one of the older red heads said, defending Ron who stayed on his piece.
It was one of the matching Weasleys, twins, but the red-headed family all looked so alike to Draco's eyes. He liked the twins, though. They were entertaining, often causing a ruckus with their pranks at the family events for the Sacred-28. Some of those pranks went too far, and those were the most entertaining of all because it usually meant they'd land themselves in plenty of mischief. There was little Draco and his friends enjoyed more than a Weasley being in trouble.
When Draco was quite small, around 7, the twins had provided some epic entertainment at a spring picnic. Draco only found out all the facts a little later on, but at the time, he saw one of the twin's shaking hands with Ron, and then Mr Weasley erupted with white hot anger. Mrs Weasley seemed to be the disciplinarian of their family, so it was a memorable event when her husband took the reins.
He ripped a bewildered Ronald away and immediately clapped his hand against the twin's—whichever one it was—left buttock. All the underage wizards in attendance were confused and some a little scared. Seeing the usually placid Mr Weasley so furiously taking his son to task unnerved them all. It wasn't until later that evening when his mother was tucking him into bed that Draco found out what caused the commotion, because surely a handshake was a nice thing, wasn't it?
"Fred tried to have his little brother make an unbreakable vow, Draco," Narcissa told him seriously. "If Ronald had made a vow and hadn't stuck to the terms, he would have died."
Draco saw her shudder with her eyes momentarily closed - his mother had never looked so frightened.
"It was an awful thing for Fred to do and Ronald is lucky his father stopped them in time. Fred is only young, of course, and I doubt he really understood what he was doing, but this is why young wizards are forbidden from using magic without direct supervision…"
As Draco drifted off to sleep that night, he couldn't help but think it was rather unlucky for Fred that his father stopped them. But now that he understood what had occurred with the Weasley clan, Draco banked the information for later - even as a small child he was a cunning little snake. Although, he was only 7 then, and didn't really know how to put the information to good use.
Standing beside the chess set with the matching Weasleys who were only a year older though they were much taller than Draco and his friends—all the Weasley boys were tall—Draco recalled the memory of that Spring Picnic and realised he never had made use of the what he'd learned that day.
His eyes drifted to Blaise on his left. The rest of his motley crew were behind him and turning to face and talk to them might ruin his plans. Blaise would have to do.
"Follow my lead," he hissed through the side of his mouth, locking eyes momentarily with the boy.
"You're right," Draco said to the Weasley twin. "I'm being a poor host. Apologies."
He stuck his right hand out with a reproachful smile.
The Weasley twin looked a little bemused, unused to Draco playing nicely even when the world was looking on. No adults were paying attention to him so why would he be so nice now? Regardless, the Weasleys knew to be polite, especially in someone else's home - or their mother would inflict a week of washing up 'muggle style' on them. So, he returned the gesture, stuck out his right hand and shook Draco's.
A sly smile chanced Draco's face, before he replaced it with a deafening scream. He dropped to his knees, begging and pleading with the Weasley twin:
"Please don't!" he said, "I'll do anything you want!" he said. "Don't make me swear it, please!"
All whilst keeping a two-handed grip on the older boy's right hand.
He put on a good show of trying to prize the Weasley boy off whilst holding on tighter. The poor Weasley twin seemed to have cottoned on to what Draco was playing at and put all his efforts into shaking the pompous little brat off.
Draco continued to beg and plead, whilst the other boy panicked. The closer party guests made their way to the chessboard with Draco getting louder and louder and the Weasley twin's frustrated alarm increasing as the seconds drew on. He eventually called Draco some very choice names, just at the moment Mr and Mrs Weasley arrived at the scene.
Draco let go. "He wanted me to make the unbreakable vow!" he wailed. "Didn't he?" he said to Blaise.
"Yeah, he did," Blaise confirmed without missing a beat.
Theo knew the drill. "He really did!" he said. "Fred"—because Theo knew which twin it was— "told Draco to swear he'd lose to Ronald if they let him play or he'd have to lick their boots clean."
In thought, Draco tipped his hat to his best mate - Theo was always the most creative of the team.
"I didn't, Mom!" Fred said, his hands held out to keep his mother back. He must have forgotten his father was there as he should have been avoiding Arthur, not Molly.
"I thought you would have learned after last time!"
"I did, Dad. That was years ago," he said, sidestepping away from his father. "I didn't do anything!"
With the other twin and Ron jumping to Fred's defence, Draco knew he needed to lay it on a little thicker to regain ground. Perfectly timed, he saw his mother rushing across the grass on her tiptoes to avoid sinking through it in her heels. By the time she reached him, Draco was sat in the grass, panting with exertion, and tearlessly 'crying' for the onlookers.
"It was so scary," he sobbed into her shoulder. He caught Theo's eye and winked.
"It was awful, Mrs Malfoy," Theo said, backing Draco up. "We waited our turn to play but they just wouldn't let us have a go and when Draco told him no hard feelings, and shook his hand, Fred just wouldn't let go!"
It was a perfect line from Theo as it was completely true. Narcissa knew what Draco and his friends could be like, but her son appeared to be genuinely distressed. Although, the Weasley children were being quite insistent that Draco was a liar. Draco's friends would back him and of course the Weasleys would back each other… she needed someone else's voice to be on one side or the other.
"Harry, dear," she said, earning a wicked scowl from her son for daring to bring him into it. "What did you see happen?"
Harry's mouth hung open - just as Draco expected, the half-breed didn't have a clue what had happened, and he said as much. However, on appearance alone, Harry had to grudgingly agree with Theo's rendition of the evening whilst shooting apologetic glances in Ronald's direction.
The half-breed's word was final, apparently. All the guests who had been wondering what was going on suddenly started muttering and nodding at Draco and his friends, then glancing and tutting at the Weasley tribe. Most of them had been at the Spring Picnic all those years ago, and with their memory jogged to that event, they could believe Fred would be guilty of such a thing. Especially now the chosen one had confirmed it.
"When will you grow out of these awful pranks!" Molly Weasley demanded of her son, her tone shrill and sharp. "How dare you do such a thing! Again!"
"But Mom…"
Fred never did finish his sentence because his mother butt into it with her prompt reply - she slapped Fred clean across the mouth. "I am disgusted in you!" she said shrilly.
If Fred thought his ordeal was over, he was sadly—cruelly! —mistaken. His father yanked him in close and just as he had done all those years ago, he spanked his son on the spot in front of everyone.
Draco got off the floor and banded back together with his mates. They were having the time of their lives and it took considerable effort to keep their faces stoically stony. Draco wanted to whoop into the air for his plan coming together so nicely.
It was better than he'd hoped for. He hoped to get one Weasley in trouble - maybe he'd be told off by someone and Draco and his friends could play chess. A simple hope. Somehow, he'd achieved all that with the added bonus of Fred and his father providing a floor show whist Mrs Weasley lambasted two of her other sons for lying!
It. Was. Epic!
It made Draco feel better about those few swats he'd received from his father at the very beginning of the ball. He still wasn't pleased about it, obviously, and his father still needed a little more training in how to behave now his son was a young wizard, not a child, but it made Draco feel better, nonetheless.
Whilst Fred danced at the hand of his father, pointlessly leaping one way or the other as Mr Weasley had a firm grip on his upper arm, Draco and his friends took the chess board for their own. Narcissa insisted they did, after Draco's 'ordeal', as she put it.
"Harry should join you, my darling," she said, shuffling the boy toward her son. "You will have even teams then."
Draco grimaced at the very idea - Harry didn't look any happier. With a quick look to Fred who neared the end of his own ordeal, Draco wished to avoid taking his place as entertainment. His mother would be just as likely to fuss over her only son when he was hard done to as she was to set him straight when required. Narcissa wasn't one for physical chastisement, which was a small saving grace, though she did have the ability to reduce her son to tears via verbal onslaughts. So, although he would have liked to tell her to shove Harry bloody Potter where the sun doesn't shine, Draco thought better of arguing.
"Of course," he replied, with a quick, and forced smile at the half-breed.
No one spoke until Narcissa retreated to tend her guests, then the boys scattered to find their preferred position.
"Should I be on your team?" Harry asked Draco.
Draco wouldn't dignify that with an answer! How dare the half-breed even think he could be on Draco's team for anything? The audacity! The look on his face communicated his disgust, and Harry backed away.
Draco took Ron's piece for his own - with Greg and Vinnie providing the muscle to make Harry think better of trying to join in. Just to make sure, the two boys accidentally-on-purpose barged their shoulders into Harry as he squeezed his way passed them, going back to sit on the sidelines whilst Draco and his actual friends played their game.
They paused for long enough to listen to Ronald and his brother apologise to Draco. Fred apologised, too, but it took him a while to get the words out as his breath hitched with every sob. Draco covered his mouth with his hand as he respectfully paid attention to the stuttering Weasley boys. Theo and Blaise, though the former was gifted creatively, weren't as skilled at Draco in blatant deceit and were forced to look away, lest they give the game away and laugh in the Weasleys faces.
The boys watched the red heads slink away, though Fred's step was a little too stiff to slink anywhere. Once they were out of earshot, they fell about laughing and congratulating each other on a prank done well.
"That was brilliant, Draco!" Blaise said. "You were pretty good, too," he added to Theo.
Draco preened whilst Theo chuckled along. "I thought we were done for when your mother asked Potter what he'd seen."
"Me, too," Draco agreed.
He hadn't predicted it, which made him nervous to admit, even to himself. If she had worked out that he was lying, or even if she couldn't have been sure he was telling the whole truth, Draco might have provided a show for the Summer Ball guests instead of Fred. And then his father would have got involved for the encore.
It was a new state of affairs, he realised. Draco had always been sure of his mother's backing regardless of the crime. Some actual crimes had still seen her defend her boy to the hilt. Her defence was to be relied on less and less as Draco grew older, but she believed him that day—just! —and there and then, that was all Draco needed.
Once they were safely away from interfering adult ears, Draco explained his half-breed idea to his young motley crew: "He's a half-blood and he'll be raised by a mutt," he said to his friends. "He doesn't belong here. And I bet he'll be a Gryffindor."
"I'll take that bet, Draco," Theo said, holding out his hand to shake on it. "He doesn't seem to have the spine to be a Gryffindor - he'll be a Hufflepuff."
Draco was a little annoyed that Theo focused on the bet and not the name, but he took the wager.
Draco's gang played a whole two and a half rounds before they bored of the game and let the red-headed crew back on. They only did so then because Narcissa had 'suggested' they should - she told them to get off the board and let someone else have a turn.
The boys left the board and noticed Harry still sitting on the sidelines, paying the haughty gang no mind and playing with a blade of grass. When Draco booted Harry's foot as they passed him, the other boys laughed. Harry said not a word in response.
They spent ages talking about Harry, who's only claim to fame was not dying. Blaise pointed out that none of them had died either, so there was nothing special about it. Theo was certain the boy would turn out to be a squib, or at least the very worst wizard of their age. He nearly choked and shut down his opinions, however, when Mrs Nott rounded the corner, having wondered where her son had got to.
Draco and Blaise caught each other's eye and shared a nervous giggle. The three of them, Draco, Blaise, and Theo, had been discussing their respective 'parent problems' for the last year or two. Theo came off worst, they all agreed. Mrs Nott couldn't stop herself from mithering her son, wittering on about keeping himself warm, well, safe, and all manner of boring things like that. Opposites must attract as Mr Nott seemed much sterner than either of Draco's or Blaise's fathers - and theirs were bad enough.
It was a toss-up who came second depending on the day. Draco would argue it was him as Mrs Zambini had never raised a hand to her boy - she thought Blaise was the prince who would rule the world one day. Blaise said his father more than made up for it.
In one famous argument with his mother, Blaise accused her of killing the wrong husbands because he was sure if one of the rich wizards she'd married before his dad had been his father, then he'd have had an easier ride. Mr Zambini had not been pleased when he'd returned home from the club that evening. And shortly after, Blaise wasn't feeling too pleased, either.
Much to the boy's displeasure, said argument seemed to be the one his parents most often retold to any and all who'd listen, filled with much laughter and tutting in Blaise's direction. Draco and Theo, ever the good friends that they were, would often try and instigate the story telling when the Zambinis had one too many to drink.
One thing they all agreed on was that their parents needed to get a grip and realise their sons were not children anymore. Technically just turned eleven isn't quite adult wizard status, sure, but they were too old to suffer their mothers being all nurturingy or their fathers being all reprimandy. They were only bothered about their mothers in public, actually - private nurturing stuff was quite nice, but none had admitted it.
They roared in laughter after Mrs Nott cleared-off, having told them all to head inside soon lest little Theo catch a chill. The poor child in question was tallest of his friends but suddenly felt a foot shorter.
"What if Harry is a Slytherin?"
Goyle nodded at Crabbe because it must have been possible and no one else had suggested it. The other three looked askance at the boy.
"Don't be stupid, Vinnie." Draco shoved Crabbe aside and headed for the door to the house. "He doesn't have the wit to be a Slytherin." He paused and looked at Vincent Crabbe, and then at Gregory Goyle - not a scrap of wit between them. "I bet you pair end up in Hufflepuff, too."
The boys went around the party in one group imagining themselves to be quite the little gang of fabulous young wizards. Boys on the up! They made bets on every young witch and wizard they knew who was due to start at Hogwarts and Draco was convinced he'd make a packet on the assumptions he'd made. Some were too obvious to bet on. The red-headed Ronald Weasley would be a Gryffindor like the rest of his horde.
But no one cared about the likes of the Weasleys.