Well, it's official now. Professor O'Neill is evil. I knew somebody had to be evil. There's always an evil teacher in these things. Sometimes, they're all evil like in Groosham Grange, but at least one teacher always has to be evil when magic schools are involved. That's the way of things. At first, I thought it might be Professor Sinistra, because, you know, her name is basically sinister. And she has a habit of appearing at the most disconcerting times possible. But apparently she was named that because her family line unerringly produced left-handed people. Then I thought it might be Professor Quirrell, because it's always the ones you least suspect, but he's way too obvious. No, I'm sure Professor Quirrell is as trustworthy as he is useless.

It's definitely O'Neill now, and I know this for a fact. I've seen it with my own eyes.

Now O'Neill has a tendency to get distracted and meander off into talking about different things, which I obviously sympathize with, and I don't mind it at all because I just love learning new stuff about the magical world. And under most circumstances, I could attribute his actions to absentmindedness. Not now. Not with this.

It was a pretty typical lesson, by which I mean we were brewing an Herbicide Potion, which, as the name suggested, killed plants. Which, given the various toxic and carnivorous species we were studying in Herbology class (sometimes both at once), sounded quite useful. It should have been mostly harmless to students. Unless, of course, someone put in seven lionfish spines instead of the allotted four, in which case it would explode and spew its toxic contents on Greg Goyle.

Now, let's be clear, I'm not a fan of Goyle. He follows Malfoy around like a puppy dog and generally aids and abets him in his bullying. I wouldn't mind punching him in the face. Hypothetically. But I am not a fan of potions eating through people's skin, no matter who it is. Maybe I'd be fine with it happening to Voldemort, but I'm sure as hell not happy about it happening to Goyle. I wouldn't even like it happening to Malfoy.

O'Neill? He didn't seem to give a crap. He told a student to go get Madam Pomfrey. Goyle couldn't be moved, he was in too much agony. And then he started treating it the Muggle way, filling up a cauldron with water from the sink and dumping it on Goyle. He didn't cast a healing spell on Goyle. He didn't even use magic to fill up the cauldron. He did absolutely nothing else. And even someone of the intellectual ability of…er, I would normally say Goyle but that'd be insensitive, so I'm gonna say Crabbe would know why.

It's because he hates Slytherins. And I can't help but wonder what else he's willing to do if he's going to half-ass treating a Slytherin with burns.

Needless to say, I've already filed a complaint to the Board of Governors. I know my rights. But people are telling me that it's not likely to do any good. It wasn't until a petition was filed with a third of the magical population of Britain signing – not a third of Hogwarts students, a third of Magical Britons – that they did anything about Snape. Even my celebrity status won't do much, especially since O'Neill could probably wiggle his way out of it.

But I've got my eye on that guy. And I'm not the only one. Ron finds him to be very suspicious because even though O'Neill claims to be from a pureblooded Irish family, none of the Weasleys have ever heard of the O'Neill family. And they were originally from Ireland themselves (hence the red hair), so they know the old families of Ireland. Who is he? And what does he want? Is he some crazed anti-Slytherin zealot? Is he just some sort of sadistic maniac who likes to see children suffer in general? INQUIRING MINDS (by which I mean me) WANT TO KNOW.

Onto other things. Malfoy has been absolutely insufferable recently. Seeing the wonder of modern Muggle skyscrapers firsthand clearly wasn't enough to knock some humility into the boy. He sees me as a rival for leadership of Slytherin house, apparently, which is very silly, because I have no interest in leading anything and if he wants whatever meaningless titles come with ruling the house, he's welcome to them. Now it's true that most of the first years respect me, but I'd argue it was just because I'm not a git like Malfoy.

It's almost become an obsession with Malfoy, trying to convince me, and I suppose the people around me, of the superiority of mages. The problem is…they're not superior. You just…can't classify people like that. Are there areas that mages do better? Sure! Mages came up with an anti-COVID potion in ten days flat, which I am steamed about. But they still get polio today because they've not yet come up with anything better than the Muggle vaccine. Comparing Muggles and mages is like comparing apples and oranges. If you were an orange, of course you'd like your fellow oranges better. But they're both food in the end and so will we be for the worms. Okay, wow, that got a little dark there. Let's focus on lighter things.

Like Hermione's good news! Well, maybe good. I'm not so sure she thinks it's good, but it could be! Bad Harry, you're getting distracted again. Focus.

We had our first flying lessons (FLYING. LESSONS. Magical school is the best!) with Professor Hooch, who seems…a bit not entirely human? She has yellow eyes which is kind of odd. Is she some weird human bird hybrid? Oh, wow, I did not need those images in my head. Inquiring minds do not want to know. Okay, so back to business.

I don't think I've mentioned this before, but the magical world is absolutely obsessed with a game called Quidditch. I've attached a link with a document explaining how the game works. [AN: The document will not be included in this story; I just didn't want to repeat the rules we all know already.] The most relevant point, however, is that it's played on broomsticks! In the air! So. Cool. Look, football is awesome, but it's on the ground. How does it get cooler than aerial sports? It doesn't, that's the answer. It just can't.

It turns out my dad was part of the Gryffindor Quidditch team! Which is totally awesome! And also means I have no interest in playing Quidditch whatsoever now, because there's a huge rivalry between the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams and Dad would probably be rolling in his grave if I played against the team he loved so much. (Where are my parents' graves? Does anyone know?) Maybe that seems silly, but it's how I feel and that's how it's going to be.

Neville Longbottom fell off his broom. I don't know much about him. He's clumsy and in major need of a confidence booster. On the other hand, he's one of O'Neill's favorite students so that's not a point in his favor. But! He's also a target for bullies and I. Will. Not. Be. A. Bully. Ever. So even if I'm not a fan of Longbottom as a person, I'm still going to stick up for him.

Even if it's against my own housemates. Which I'm sorry to say, it was.

Longbottom got a Remembrall in the mail this morning. It apparently lets you know if you've forgotten something. It doesn't tell you what you've forgotten, so I'd hardly call it useful, but that's neither here nor there. What matters is that Longbottom dropped it. And Malfoy picked it up and someone snapped.

But it wasn't me.

"Now where's the best place I can put this so that it'll be lost forever?" Malfoy said with a wicked smirk that I was honestly just a tad jealous of. I tend to look constipated whenever I try to smirk.

"Right next to your brains, Malfoy?" Hermione said in the sweetest, most demure tone you could possibly imagine. "You seem to have lost those long ago. At least we know where the rest of your head is – so far up your arse there's not room for your shit!"

Ron and I shared a look that was both awed and terrified. And incredulous, because this was prim and proper Hermione we were talking about. She was not the type to speak out, let alone use such vulgar language.

"What the hell?" Ron whispered softly. "Who is this girl?"

I shrugged, just as confused as he was. And highly impressed.

Malfoy's face turned a bright, incandescent red. "How dare you, you jumped up little mudblood?!"

The whispers around us told me that this was not a very nice word at all. I was ready to defend Malfoy with my wand if need be. True, I didn't know any useful offensive spells, but that wouldn't stop me from shoving it into the berk's eye if I had to. But Hermione? She was way ahead of me. She didn't miss a beat.

"How dare I?" Hermione said in a tone practically dripping with disdain. Malfoy even flinched minutely. I did not fault him for this. "No, this is not going to do at all. You're being silly." She imbued the word with the precise scorn Malfoy had used when saying mudblood. "There are a lot of things I can tolerate in this world, but silliness is not one of them. Look at you. What on Earth are you hoping to accomplish here? Picking on the weak isn't subtle. It's not cunning. And I certainly hope it's not your ambition, though I sadly suspect it is. So give me the Remembrall and stop being silly."

Malfoy's face hardened and he summoned his broom to his hand. "If you want it, muck-crawler, then come take it."

And Hermione did just that.

She was terrified. She didn't even bother hiding it. It took everything she could to not scream. I would have screamed. Hermione didn't, and it wasn't because she wasn't afraid, but because she knew if she screamed, she would lose. And I was starting to realize that if there was one thing Hermione absolutely despised in life, it was losing.

Seeing Hermione on a broom was like watching an artist at work. Not because she made it look easy, but because it didn't come easy to her. The broom could sense her dislike of flying, her fear of being high up in the air with only a thin stick of wood separating you from the ground. It fought her with every step, and she. Didn't. Give up. She powered through every single limit, every single obstacle before her, because it was who she was. You couldn't tell Hermione she couldn't do something, because she'd find a way to do it anyway.

Malfoy knew he would lose. I could see it on his face. It was a slow, dawning realization, but he figured it out eventually. The thing is, Malfoy's not stupid. He does very well in our classes. He's quite talented academically. His problem is that all his life, everything he wants has been handed to him and he's not yet learned how to adapt to actually facing challenges. He's like Dudley if he had natural talent. When he does…well, that'll be my problem. But for now, he was smart enough to realize that even if he won, he would lose. Hermione had called him out on his awful behavior and everyone was realizing that by supporting him, they were being awful too. Maybe that wouldn't have been enough in many cases, but right now, the balance of power was on the edge. Even a tiny thing like this would tip it over.

So Malfoy dropped the Remembrall, probably thinking that Hermione would lose her balance getting to it and fall off her broomstick.

She didn't.

Instead, she lunged straight at the ball and caught it before he hit the ground. And in that moment, I could see it on Malfoy's face. He had lost. For the first time ever, he'd lost, and he didn't know what to do. It was beautiful.

And then Professor Sinistra appeared behind us, an unreadable expression on her face. "Miss Granger." Hermione looked at her defiantly. Few people would have notice her hands clasped behind her back to stop them from trembling uncontrollably. "Why?"

"Because it was the right thing to do," Hermione said calmly.

Sinistra's face bore a smile for the barest fraction of a second – so quick I concede I might have imagined it – and then she nodded. "How do you feel about being our team's Seeker?"

Hermione's jaw dropped open. "I…what?! Me?! But I broke the rules! And aren't first years not allowed to be on the team?"

"There is precedent," Sinistra said. "Granted, from the seventeenth century, but precedent is precedent. And technically speaking, the rules say first years are not allowed their own broomsticks."

"But it's not fair!" Malfoy shouted.

Sinistra focused those laser intense eyes on him. "Shall I then conduct a fair investigation of this incident? Including all its involved parties?" Malfoy shrank back and said nothing. "No, I rather thought not. Miss Granger? Your decision?"

"You can't let a mu – Muggleborn onto the team!" Malfoy protested. "She'll lose all our games!"

"Yes!" Hermione shouted, looking as if she regretted the word the instant it came out of her mouth. But it was too late. The die was cast.

Professor Sinistra didn't look remotely surprised. Now a smile definitely graced her lips, though it didn't last too much longer than her last. "Very well. And Miss Granger?" Hermione perked up. "Detention with me tonight."

"What?" Hermione said, looking dumbstruck. "Why?"

"Because you broke the rules," Professor Sinistra said as if Hermione was the dumbest individual in creation. "And it'll teach you a very valuable lesson…no good deed goes unpunished."

So that's the story of how Hermione became the Slytherin Seeker! I'm so happy for her! I'm going to be there for all her games! The Emerald Trio (as people have been calling us) cannot be stopped!

COMMENTS

weasleydad227: Hello, Harry! This is Mr. Weasley! Hermione's parents (lovely people) helped me get my own mobile and show me how to use it so I could read your blog. I think it's simply tragic no one told you where your parents are buried, so I popped over to Godric's Hollow to take the attached picture of their tombstones. I hope this helps.

I've tried to reach out to one of your father's friends, Remus Lupin, so he could share some stories about you. I haven't been able to locate him yet, though, which is not unexpected since he has a condition which makes him reluctant to spend time in the magical community. Last I heard, he was working as an English teacher in Iceland, but he's not there anymore and he moves around a lot, so it may be a while before he contacts you.

Mr. Weasley, I'm overwhelmed. I'm sitting here in one of Hogwarts's numerous nooks and crannies hoping desperately no one is noticing how much I'm crying, because I can't seem to stop. No one's ever done something so nice for me in all my given days and we've never even spoken before. Please, if you ever need a favor from me, I'll do anything I can to help.

Don't be silly, Harry. As Ron's best friend, you're more or less part of the family.

Best. Family. Ever.

Dear Mum and Dad,

It's me, your son Ron, and it's been one heck of a interesting few days here at Hogwarts. I'm doing pretty well in my classes. Not, you know, Percy level, but mostly As on my assignments, with a few EEs. I took your advice and asked Madam Pomfrey for some potions to help me with my reading problems. Dys…something or other, Harry called it. Okay, actually Harry had to drag me along and he soon regretted it, because Madam Pomfrey promptly diagnosed him with something called ADHD and gave him some potions to deal with it. Both of our potions taste absolutely foul, but the letters are staying still on the page, so all's well that ends well, right?

I haven't heard anything from Headmaster Dumbledore since our first meeting. Harry thinks he's senile so maybe he's forgotten? But I'm not going to betray Harry for anything, not all the Knuts in the world. I'm really glad I haven't heard from him, though. Something about the man gives me the creeps. You get the feeling he can read your mind sometimes.

Hermione is the new Slytherin Seeker! She outflew Malfoy in this insanely impressive dive for Longbottom's Remembrall and Professor Sinistra was extremely impressed with her. Then she gave Hermione detention because she wasn't supposed to be on the broom, but Hermione says it was barely a punishment at all, because she just had to organize files from the Astronomy Department's archives and they were apparently very interesting. Well, interesting to Hermione (and probably to Harry, as history obsessed as he is). I'd probably not be all that interested.

Percy hasn't spoken a word to me since I've been sorted and I'm afraid he hates me now. I know I really shouldn't ask this of you, but could you talk to him? As much of a prat as he can be, he's still my brother and I don't want to lose him because of some house placement. At least Fred and George are okay with me now, especially after they said that nice stuff about me (well, nice for them) in the school paper. They even apologized to me. Sort of. Then they turned my hair green and silver, but, you know, affectionately. I can't explain it. We all know how they are.

Harry and Hermione are constantly butting heads with Malfoy. I…kind of find it funny? I know I probably shouldn't, but Malfoy is trying so hard to be scary and it's just pathetic. The three of them think they're engaged in some epic battle for control of Slytherin. I don't have the heart to tell them that's not a thing. Well, Harry and Hermione. I'd gladly tell Malfoy, but he wouldn't listen to me, so why bother? Oh, listen to me, I'm starting to sound as unfocused as Harry.

"Oh, if I have to listen to Malfoy talk one more time about how awful Muggles are, I'm going to pull my hair out!" Hermione yelled one day after yet another confrontation led the three of them to nearly come to blows, stopped only by Professor McGonagall walking around a corner and Malfoy fleeing like the coward he is.

Harry nodded vigorously. "It's like he thinks we're just animals. I mean, sure, there are some things Muggles can't do, but most of the time, we've found a workaround. They." He scowled, but I wasn't bothered. A decade of thinking you're Muggle doesn't go away overnight. "I just wish there was some way to show it to people. We've got a rich culture! We've got style."

An idea sparked in my head. Since making friends with two Muggleborns (well, technically Harry's a half-blood but he's Muggleborn in every way that matters), I've been reading up on Muggle expressions, and this one is what the Muggles call a "light-bulb moment." Mind you, I'm not sure why. Most Muggles don't understand where their expressions come from either, I've found, at least from asking Muggleborns about them, so at least I'm not behind.

(And, yeah, actually, I have been able to have chats with other Muggleborns without them looking at me like I'm going to feast on their flesh. Harry's schemes? They're working.)

"What about doing a play?" I asked. Harry looked at me like I'd lost my marbles (pot calling the kettle black, in my opinion), but Hermione looked like she thought it was a good idea. And Hermione's, like, the queen of good ideas, so that's high praise. "We could do something from that Pikewave guy?"

"Shakespeare?" Hermione asked tentatively. I nodded. I remember you taking me to that play Romeo and Juliet last year, Dad. I cried for days. It was just so unfair what happened to them. Though I'm not sure how the Muggles learned of the Draught of the Living Death.

Hermione looked intrigued. "You know, that's actually a really good idea. Shakespeare is distanced enough from modern Muggle civilization to be much more comprehensible to the magical born, but every Muggleborn has still heard of him. It's the perfect bridge! What play should we do?"

Harry's lips twitched in a diabolical smile. "We could do the Win –"

Hermione suddenly slammed him against the wall, her face alight with homicidal fury. "WE DON'T TALK ABOUT THE WINTER'S TALE, HARRY!" she shrieked, her eyes wide with hatred and scorn and contempt. I've never seen anyone more ready to kill in my life.

An awkward silence descended upon the hallway as Hermione gave a sudden beatific grin and a chill ran down my spine. "Right, sorry about that. We could do Romeo and Juliet?"

"Oh, I can't see that again," I said. "Too sad, next!"

"Macbeth?" Harry suggested tentatively, still looking freaked out by Hermione's little turn.

"With the Weird Sisters?" Hermione said skeptically. "That's absolutely the last thing we want to show. Stereotypical in the extreme."

"Did he ever do anything with magic?" I asked, hoping to contribute something despite my total lack of knowledge of the subject manner.

Hermione suddenly grinned. "Yes! Yes, that's it, Ron! You're brilliant! The Tempest! There's wizards and Muggles and nature spirits and it's got everything we need! Let's talk to Professor Sinistra about it!"

Professor Sinistra ended up being very intrigued by the prospect when we brought it to her attention, though she wasn't sure she'd be able to sell it to Dumbledore. The last time a play had been performed at Hogwarts had been back when Dumbledore was the Transfiguration professor and it had ended with the Great Hall being set on fire with an exploding Ashwinder. But she promised she'd try her best and that's really all we can hope for, right?

Matters came to a head when Malfoy challenged Harry and Hermione to a duel. I found this to be particularly offensive – why was I not worthy of being challenged? I happen to be a proud blood traitor! Did our family fight and bleed and die during the war just to be regarded to an afterthought?! Not on my watch, we didn't!

Malfoy thought he could pull a fast one on us by trying to get us to duel at midnight tomorrow in the trophy room, but I saw through that in a second. He just wouldn't show and we'd get in trouble for being out of our dorms after curfew. I knew that trick. Fred and George have pulled me on that before. Fool me once, shame on them; fool me…well, dozens of times, shame on me. (I WAS SIX, OKAY?!)

"I know you're scared of us, Malfoy, it's okay," I said condescendingly to him. "I know you don't want to show any weakness in front of your friends…"

Malfoy's face flushed and it took all I had to keep a straight face. He was depressingly easy to manipulate. How he didn't end up in Gryffindor, I'll never know. "I'll take the three of you down, anytime, any place, Weasley!" I grinned now openly. It was the three of us now. Good. He'd soon know what it meant to face a Weasley.

"If you're so brave, Malfoy, then how about you face us right in front of everyone in Slytherin house," Harry demanded. "Right here, in the common room. At midnight like you said."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes, clearly sensing a trap. "All right, but I have a condition. I can use my wand…but you can only use Muggle methods to defeat me."

I was just about to tell Harry and Hermione what a very stupid idea this was when Hermione, her eyes glittering with malice, said, "Done," and it took all my self-control not to cry. But you can't show weakness in front of a bully like Malfoy. Besides, Hermione seemed like she had some good ideas and I've certainly learned not to underestimate my bushy-haired friend.

"So what are we going to do?" I asked when Malfoy was out of sight.

"Oh, I have absolutely no clue," Hermione said and my jaw dropped.

I sighed. "Great. We're going to get pulverized. If only there was some Muggle invention we could use to take out Malfoy…"

"My uncle has a shotgun," Harry suggested. Thankfully, he was joking. At least, I'm going to presume he was joking. It would be better for my sanity. "Do your parents have any weapons, Hermione?"

Hermione threw back her head and laughed. "You've got to be kidding me. My parents are hardcore pacifists. They couldn't hurt a fly. I've seen it. That fly was buzzing around our house for weeks. They don't have…" She trailed off as an idea occurred to her. "How exactly do we win the duel, Ron? First blood?"

"For him, yes, because we're not using wands. But for us, disarming him would be enough."

"Then I think my parents have the perfect weapon."

Hermione ran off to the Owlery to write her parents a letter. While she was away, me and Harry tried to brainstorm ideas to take down Malfoy. I figured since he was a Muggleborn in all but name, he'd have some good ideas. Good, nonviolent ideas. I wouldn't mind giving that idiot a right hook, but shooting him was going way too far. But Harry couldn't come up with anything.

Fortunately, Hermione's parents came through. A huge box appeared in the Owlery the very next morning. Harry seemed incredulous Hermione's owl – a lovely specimen she'd named Athena – was able to carry such a huge box. I didn't understand why he was so shocked. You'd think he'd have realized magical owls could carry just about anything. It's magic. There aren't limits. That's what magic is.

Hermione, laughing maniacally, pulled out three bulky looking masks with strange letters on the side of it. Some of the letters I recognized like S and H, but there were also unfamiliar letters like a backwards N and a circle with a line through it. She then took out a weird looking box. Finally, she took out a canister. "Oh, this is going to be so good." She proceeded to explain what was in the canister and I had to agree. It was going to be amazing.

After what felt like an eternity, the time of the duel finally arrived. It wasn't enough to win. We had to dominate Malfoy. We had to make it look easy. We had to destroy his reputation of being a leader. No one should want to follow him when we were done with him. If all went well, that was what would happen. The problem was, when did things ever go well?

"You could surrender now," Malfoy said when he pranced onto the dueling platform that had been set up in the middle of the hall. The rumor mill said Malfoy had tattled to Professor Sinistra, but it had backfired because she'd given the duel her stamp of approval. On the bright side, with her watching, no one would get too hurt. "I'll go easy on you…maybe."

"Do you hear someone talking, Harry?" Hermione said angelically.

"No one important." I gave Harry a high five.

Harry took a step forward. "I have just three words to say. Siri, play Thriller!"

A catchy, funky tune started playing from Harry's mobile. I'm not sure where he was hiding it, but the music started playing throughout the room. Kids started looking around for the source of the music. Harry started dancing, shuffling back and forth in a way that was vaguely reminiscent of an Inferius.

It's close to midnight and something evil's lurking in the dark

Malfoy let out a snarl and threw an Incendio in the direction of where he thought the music was emanating from. It bounced off the window (Harry breathed a sigh of relief for some reason) and nearly hit a student before Professor Sinistra extinguished it with a wave of her wand, not even saying a word.

Under the moonlight, you see a sight that almost stops your heart

Malfoy now aimed his wand directly at us, but Hermione pressed a button and fog started spewing out of the box, the fog machine as Hermione had said and Malfoy couldn't quite see us, especially with me and Hermione starting to dance like Harry did.

You try to scream, but terror takes the sound before you make it

"IMMOBULUS!" Malfoy screamed. I didn't recognize that spell – it wasn't in this year's textbook – but it didn't matter because it missed me by a matter of centimeters. Even through the fog, I could see the naked confusion in his eyes.

You start to freeze as horror looks you right between the eyes

"Having fun, Malfoy?" Harry taunted.

"Your little tricks aren't going to stop me, Potter!" Malfoy said, sounding near hysterics. "I'm the best! I'm a powerful wizard!"

"You're nothing," Harry said with calm certainty.

Cause this is thriller! Thriller night! And no one's gonna save you from the beast about to strike!

Harry said something in Parseltongue and everyone jolted as they realized that Harry was a Parselmouth. Even Professor Sinistra looked surprised. Ishtaran emerged from Harry's pocket and bit Malfoy on the leg. It wouldn't harm him – he didn't have any venom – but it sure as hell disoriented Malfoy. We needed to keep him off balance, otherwise one of his spells might hit us and it'd all be over.

You know it's thriller! Thriller night! You're fighting for your life inside a killer thriller tonight!

Malfoy hurled a barrage of Diffendos at us. Hermione let out a wince as one of them sliced through the arm of her robe but did not hit her skin. But that had been close. Very close. Okay, fine, in the fog, maybe we could make it look like she hadn't bled. But that wasn't the way we wanted to do things. We wanted to win square, if not necessarily fair.

You hear the door slam and realize there's nowhere left to run

Malfoy used a Wingardium Leviosa to try to hurl a couch at us. It missed us by a kilometer. Hermione started giggling. Not just to taunt Malfoy. She was finding his desperation truly funny.

You close your eyes and hope that this is just imagination

"Are we ready for the finale?"

But all the while, you hear a creature creeping up behind! You're out of time!

"You know it!" Harry said with a thumbs up. We proceeded to put our gas masks on and Hermione opened the canister…

…and nitrous oxide filled the room.

Hermione's parents, as you recall, are dentists. They sometimes have to do very painful procedures, but ones where the patient needs to be conscious. The solution is nitrous oxide, a colorless gas which produces a numbing and euphoric effect. With our gas masks, the gas didn't effect us, but it did effect Malfoy, who was so dazed and disoriented by the gas, he didn't even resist when Hermione simply plucked his wand out of his hand.

Professor Sinistra used a spell to clear up the gas, as well as the fog, and Malfoy just stared at us like we'd revealed ourselves as demons from hell. "You tricked me…" he stammered. He pointed at Harry. "You're a Parselmouth!"

Harry said something to Ishtaran, who did a little dance. The spectators laughed.

"There has to be a rule against this," Malfoy said frantically to Professor Sinistra.

"Strangely enough, there isn't," Professor Sinistra admitted. "Though there will be. I'm not letting this happen again."

Malfoy just opened and closed his mouth repeatedly. "I don't understand."

"It's called being better than you are, Malfoy," I said in a mock sympathetic tone. "Maybe you'll experience it for yourself one day. But not today."

And that's how we trounced Malfoy using nothing but Muggle weapons. Dad, you should definitely tell this story to Malfoy's dad at the Ministry. He'd blow up a gasket!

Love,

Ron

Father,

By now you've probably heard of my humiliation. I just don't understand how I could have lost a duel against a mudbloods and two blood traitors! I tried so hard, but I just couldn't do it! Mudbloods are base animals and I don't understand how I could possibly have lost to one. What am I missing?

Your son,

Draco Malfoy

My dear boy,

Muggles are extremely dangerous creatures. And while it is true that they are more ingenious than your dear aunt probably impressed upon you during your visits to her, this only serves to make them more dangerous, not less dangerous.

Fortunately, I have the perfect instrument for your revenge. With the attached book, you'll be able to humiliate the Muggle lovers and take over Slytherin once and for all. I look forward to you becoming the man you were always meant to be.

Your father