She was silent and not real.
She did not speak and he could not feel her because she really wasn't there.
He imagined that if she were actually there, she would be struggling, as she had been twice before. He had to accept that it was not meant to be. This didn't bother him as much as it might have. He had any number of girls; true, all of them with shallow thoughts and aims at popularity or favor; who would be glad to have him look at them twice. Pansy was…Pansy.
He kept asking himself a very simple question, why?
Why did he like her, and why could he not simply just say so, rather than trying to force her to soften to him? Why could he not allow himself to admit something So. Bloody. Simple? But, then, yes that's right, he remembered now. He had admitted it. Quietly, and with more sincerity than he was able to believe. He had told her the simple truth. And she in turn told him that she hoped her brat boyfriend blasted him to dust.
Well, then that did it. She didn't, and probably never would, like him back. And after what he'd pulled, who could blame her? Did he care that she was starting to remember stuff? Yes…but there was nothing he could do about it. Speaking to his father had given him the nerve-chilling suspicion that perhaps his time as a boy with unrealistic crushes on other boys' girlfriends was coming to an end.
If Potter wanted a fight, he would oblige.
Draco lay in his bed, listening to Crabbe and Goyle's loud, infuriating snores, feeling warm in particular places. He wanted to move his hands, but he knew that to do that would be admitting that he wanted to do…that. He didn't want to do that with these idiots around. So he lay still, thinking of her silent and not real but beautiful. Her chest heaving against him as he pinned her down and the power-the power he felt having her helpless beneath him. He concentrated on the memories of those feelings. Her body. And the power. He closed his eyes and amended the scene—instead of having to hit her with the Memory Charm, instead of her kneeing him so hard and running away…perhaps she did soften. Perhaps she did allow him to kiss her? And what would that kiss feel like? The warmth in those particular places spread and grew more intense as he imagined those full lips against his. What if her body pressed and heaved and struggled against him, but to a sensual rhythm rather than a defiant one? What if instead of calling him nasty names, she called him by his name?
His cheek was in the pillow. His breathing was shallow; pinned up. He wanted to move his hands.
What if she were here, now? What would she do? Call him nasty names, probably. Well he could make her do whatever he wanted since she wasn't real; since she was silent. He could make her look at him the way she looked at Potter. Her eyes…stirred him. He could make her brace herself against him—her hands on his chest, pushing with all her might. And he would reach up and take hold of her wrists and pull her closer to him. He could make her part those full, tender lips and he could make her grip his shirt, and tell him with those stirring eyes of hers that she secretly liked him, too. He could make her move how he wanted her to…all in the quiet…in the dark.
He moved his hand. It slid down of its own will, and the warmth in a particular place awaited it.
He liked it when she hit him. He liked it when she clawed at his hair and thrashed about and screeched with anger. Why? Pansy was so dull. She had called him icy and stiff. Well he was warm, now. Crabbe and Goyle snored but he did not hear it any longer. She was silent and not real, but for the moment she was his and when his hand stopped moving he bit down into his pillow and opened his eyes to see that in ten minutes he would have to be down on the pitch to face her little boyfriend.
He hated Potter with a passion. It had always been like that, ever since he chose a ratty Weasel over him their first night at Hogwarts. Reasons…reasons were many and broad but for this moment—he hated that other boy because he had what Draco could never touch. There, underneath this well-oiled machine of hatred for Potter, lay a pervasive layer of fear. This fear fueled the hatred and sometimes Draco wished that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had succeeded in killing him the previous year. Sometimes Draco really, truly wanted him dead.
He stood up from his bed and looked down at his aching hand. Umbridge had forced him to write lines with an enchanted quill, just as she had done Potter. His lines were 'I will learn my place.' Draco took his other hand and pressed hard on the wounds, causing the dull ache to intensify and fresh blood to sprout from the thin scabs. He grimaced at the pain but when it was fading he felt better.
He was afraid. But his father was right. It was time for him to act like a Malfoy.
"Crabbe! Goyle!" he shouted, and the two boys woke up, Goyle rolling over and falling heavily off of his bed. They blinked at him with sleepy eyes as he reached down and retrieved his wand holster from his bedside table. "It's almost time. Get ready, I'm not going to be late because of you two lards."
They obeyed him, although a bit sluggishly.
Harry sat awake in his bed, watching the clock and feeling the cold.
Ron had been awake just a little while earlier, but had finally succumbed to sleep. Harry didn't think he would rouse him again before he left. He thought maybe it was best to keep his best friend away, just incase. If he got caught he didn't want to bring Ron down with him. He knew that Fred and George would probably agree with and thank him for this.
There had been a small window of time where Harry was hit with a real feeling of disbelief. He just couldn't wrap his head around this whole thing, and he had turned to Ron and asked with an amused chuckle: "Ron, what the bloody hell am I doing?"
Ron had given him a sleepy shrug. "You're dueling on the pitch at midnight."
Yes, he was dueling on the pitch at midnight.
Harry tried to pump himself up, like if he were getting ready for a big match. He imagined the fake Moody in his face that day in his office after Harry had found out about the dragons. He imagined being confronted by that gnarled, crooked smile and hearing the raspy voice yell at him: "Focus, Potter! Concentrate on your strengths! You get yourself ready, ya hear? Come midnight, boy…be ready to fight!"
Hedwig hooted and turned her luminous eyes to him from her perch on his headboard. Harry looked over at Seamus' clock and saw that it was twelve minutes to midnight. "Go and keep an eye out for me, Hedwig," he whispered, reaching up to stroke her wing and opening the window for her. He watched her slip through, her enormous white wings spreading and catching the air silently. When she was gone he closed the window and turned again to face the dark room. Sighing resolutely, Harry picked up his cloak from the trunk, slipping it around himself and disappearing. Ron's mouth was hanging open slightly as Harry breezed by, and he gave a faint twitch when their door closed quietly.
He was not surprised at all to see Fred and George waiting up for him in the common room, both dressed in black and looking dangerous.
"We were about to come and fetch you," Fred said seriously, standing up when Harry took off the cloak to greet them.
"I was waiting for Ron to finally fall asleep," Harry informed. "He's out now, let's hurry."
The three of them consulted the Marauder's Map and slipped down through the halls of the silent castle quickly. In less than ten minutes they were sprinting across the grounds, their breath coming out as rhythmic, misty puffs in the frigid air. Despite himself, Harry was nervous. His heart was beating fast and loud—he knew it was adrenaline and nerves rolling around with each other in there. They made it to the front gate of the pitch, and Fred peered about looking for signs of Malfoy.
"Right on time, Potter."
They turned to see the white skin of their enemy move away from the darkness of the trees he stood under, his cold blue eyes glinting in the faint light of the half-moon. Two other shadowy figures emerged from the darkness as well, perhaps not as smoothly. They were Crabbe and Goyle, looking tired but ready. Draco stood still and regarded Harry coolly. Harry stared right back. He knew the cold was making his cheeks red and his ears were numb, but he did not allow it to sway him. Fred and George looked at Crabbe and Goyle as if they were flies for the swatting, which gave Harry an extra boost of confidence. Malfoy didn't stand a chance.
"Well, what are we waiting for, ladies?" Fred quipped. "Let's not hang 'round here all day." He reached up and grabbed hold of the iron bars, climbing over first. Once down George followed, then Harry, then Draco followed slowly by Crabbe and Goyle. Harry realized that he had forgotten to ask what kind of plan the twins had for distracting teachers just in case, but seeing as how they were down here already, he decided to trust that they had taken care of it. He thought he heard Hedwig's hooting off in the distance, but upon looking above he saw no sign of her.
The wind had picked up but died down again after a great swell that whipped Harry's hair all over and tilted his glasses. He resisted the urge to shiver. Everything was dark. The huge stands loomed, the grass felt stiff and frozen under his feet. The air was heavy.
Harry took off his cloak and steeled himself against the cold. The duel books had told him that it was better to have himself free of long flowing robes or extra garments so he could move better. Draco seemed to know this as well, because he took off his and tossed it to Goyle. He was wearing a wand holster, the thin leather pouch tucked away under his arm, held in place by the straps that swept across his chest and back.
"Brought a little backup, did you Malfoy?" Fred said, jerking his head dismissively at Crabbe and Goyle, who looked like they would so rather be warm in their beads, snoring happily. "Afraid to face Harry alone?"
"And what are you doing here, Weasel?' Draco scoffed.
"We knew you'd be a little coward and bring your brutes along," George answered smoothly. "So we came to make sure you got your arse handed to you fairly."
"Sweet. Potter's got babysitters. Where's your mommy? Oh yeah, that's right…she's six feet under."
Harry whipped out his wand and aimed it at Draco without thinking. The other boy did the same, unsheathing his swiftly, his eyes narrowing with contempt.
"Easy, there, boys." George stepped between them. He looked from one to the other; his face flushed from cold but lit up with excitement. He cleared his throat and said seriously: "Wizards at the ready." Harry stood up straight and lowered his wand. Draco did the same. "Bow."
With an amount of difficulty, the boys bowed to each other. This wasn't Lockhart's dueling club. There were no teachers around and politeness was unnecessary and unwanted. George watched them straighten up again and then stepped away, walking over to join his brother on one side of them. They glared over Harry and Draco's heads at Crabbe and Goyle, who paced the other side.
A heavy silence befell them. Harry used the small window before George spoke again to clear his mind and find his center of magic. He felt his wand hand vibrating slightly, and he raised it, his blood pumping through him and numbing him to the icy weather. He was ready.
Draco glared across at him, his own wand hand shaking too, but from nerves, probably. Harry new the other boy was afraid of him. He felt very calm just then, his own nerves having dissipated.
"Kick his arse Harry," George coughed under his breath, and then said loudly and sharply: "Ready? Fight!"
"EFFRACTUM!"
Harry's mouth was open but Malfoy had been quick and seconds later he felt the bone in his left bicep splinter and he cried out in pain. It had hurt a lot when he broke his forearm nearly three years ago, but this time the pain only filled him with rage and he bellowed "INCURSUS ARTUS!" violently throwing a stream of bright red light at Malfoy's face that hit him with such force that it knocked him off his feet.
As Malfoy rolled around on the frigid grass, holding his face, Harry breathed in and out heavily and began pacing. His mouth was watering from the immense pain in his arm, but he glared down at his opponent, suddenly aware that now was no time for weakness. So Malfoy wanted to fight, eh?
"Get up! Get up, Malfoy!" Harry held his injured arm at his side, seeing Fred and George's tense figures near him but not focusing on them. He felt saliva inch its way over his lip but he paid it no attention. His arm was killing him. Malfoy stopped rolling around and his hands left his face to reveal a ghastly purple bruise the size of a large hand.
He snarled at Harry and jerked his wand up. "Petrificus Total-!"
"Protego!" Harry was ready for him this time, and the spell was sent crashing away by his shield. He wasted no time reacting. "BOMBARDA!" He threw the spell that usually blasts doors off their hinges at Malfoy and the boy was propelled five feet in the air, landing again with a loud thud. Harry distinctly heard a cry and seconds later Malfoy was holding himself at the ribcage, grimacing in pain. Harry felt a sort of curious high watching this, and he licked his glistening lips as he smiled.
"Come on, then. Get up!"
To his surprise, Malfoy did get up, albeit slowly. He held his hand to his right ribcage, taking in pinched breaths. His face was almost black from the blow Harry's earlier curse had delivered. "Is that the best you can do, Potter?" he winced at the pain in his ribs but managed to glare over at Harry. "My father taught me how to duel, and he taught me that a wizard should never use all his best moves first! Not smart wasting those gems so early in the game."
"Your father's a smudge on my arse, Malfoy! Stop talking and fight!" Harry yelled viciously, the throbbing in his arm driving him with madly brutal energy that he was prepared to use. Despite his broken arm, he got into Dueling Stance number Two, his upside down V shaking as his hands shook with a combination of rage, freezing cold, and pain.
They advanced on each other, the cold air circling their bodies and making their movements stiff but purposeful. Malfoy's blue eyes glinted dangerously and Harry met them head on.
"Affligo!" Harry shouted, his wand shooting a powerful force of blue magic right into Malfoy's stomach. The boy doubled over from the blow and looked as if he might fall, but righted himself immediately.
"Diffindo!" Harry felt a gash open up on his cheek, just below his right eye. He growled and threw the same spell right back at the blond boy, ripping open his pants leg and tearing the flesh in his shin.
"Your father taught you to duel? I guess that explains why you're so bad at it!" Harry deflected a curse with his protection shield and backed up as Malfoy got to his feet. They circled each other, their wands at the ready.
"At least I still have a father! Protego!" Malfoy narrowly missed getting hit with another Incurus Artus. "And a mother, come to think of it."
"Yeah, you're one big happy family," Harry snarled. "Except Daddy Malfoy thinks you're a useless coward!"
"Shut your fucking mouth, Potter! INCENDIO!"
Harry looked down to see the grass at his feet catch on fire. He jumped back and shouted the incantation to put it out, the smoke billowing in the cold wind. Crabbe, Goyle, Fred, and George were looking on warily, their eyes plastered to the pair and their wands held tensely at their sides. Harry resumed his dueling position, trying to force the pain in his arm out of his mind and concentrate on Malfoy, who looked bruised and bloody but not defeated.
"How's the arm, Potter?" the other boy said now.
"Just fine." Harry answered through clenched teeth. He saw Malfoy move suddenly, and jerked his wand hand out but no spell came his way. Malfoy laughed and Harry realized that he had fallen for a bluff.
"Keeping you on your toes, Potter…"
"Oh yeah? Is that what you were doing for Angelina when you attacked her?" Malfoy lost his smile. Harry felt his heart pulsing, saw Draco's face changing, and had erected a shield around himself before the curse hit him. He countered with a hex he'd learned from Battle Charms, shooting it right at Draco's face again. The stinging hex hit him right in the eyes and he dropped his wand and fell to his knees, yelling in pain.
Harry did not have time to celebrate the victory (getting the wand out of the opponent's hand was the goal of a duel like this, 'else they killed each other)—he was hit with a nasty Impediment Jinx and flew back several feet, landing painfully on his back. Harry's mind automatically went to Umbridge and he felt a sickening dip in his stomach as he lay still for a few seconds and then struggled up again. There was no teacher in sight—the spell had come from Crabbe, who was now glaring at him as he knelt over Draco.
"Oi! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Fred yelled angrily, advancing on Crabbe and Goyle with his wand drawn.
"Get back, Weasley!" Goyle shouted. He raised his shaky wand hand and aimed it uncertainly.
Draco moaned below them, still on his knees, doubled over with his hands over his eyes. Harry got to his feet and began walking towards the crowd, staring at Draco with satisfaction.
"No, you lower your wand, Crabmeat. And you too Goily. Or George and I'll blast ya one." Fred jerked his head to George, who was now beside him. Draco moaned still. Harry stood beside the twins and glared over at them, his arm sliding in and out of terrible pain. He knew that he should do something about it soon, but truthfully he had no idea how to mend the bone and that made him a little nervous.
"Duel's over," he said quietly, his breath fogging and then disappearing in the cold night air. "Malfoy's hurt, you should probably get him out of here."
"You cheated!" Goyle shouted. "You hit him in the eyes, that's not fair!"
"Shut up, idiot, Harry won, so-!" George's retort was interrupted by Crabbe's clumsy spell work. For his freckles suddenly started growing large and red, and they kept growing; spreading over his face until it too was a fleshy reddish color that made him look like he was covered in thin fur.
"That's done it, you troll!" Fred shot a spell at Crabbe and suddenly the boy sprouted large, gray ears. Harry recognized this effect immediately and sure enough the teeth came next, followed by the thick, black tail that ripped through the seat of the boy's pants and began swishing to and fro. Crabbe yelled angrily but it turned into a hideous neighing sound and he clamped his hand over his mouth. His hand slid off of those enormous teeth and, giving an enraged "HEEE HAWWWW!", he lunged himself at the twins, right over Draco's head.
He got George around the waist and they hit the ground. Goyle gave a lurch (no doubt to go and help his friend) but Fred had been swift—for the boy took one step and then rocketed back off his feet as if he'd been punched hard in the face. "Ha harr!" Fred roared, smiling evilly. "Get up then, you big tub! Go on!"
Harry spared a laugh with Fred, watching as Goyle tried several more times to advance on them, each time being slapped back by the jinx. His round face was red with anger and purple from the blows at the same time. George and Crabbe were still wrestling on the frigid grass behind them…Harry was going to go and help, but as he turned he felt a slight woosh of air and seconds later Draco had him on the ground. Harry's arm screamed in pain as he was roughly turned over on his back and forced to hold the other boy at bay by pushing his hands into his chest with all his might. His wand was somewhere near his head. Draco's eyes were red from the stinging hex, but ablaze with fury. And…for a snotty little whelp he was surprisingly strong…
"You wanna know what I did to your little girlfriend, eh Potter?" the Slytherin growled. He was pushing himself on Harry with unrelenting strength that surprised the green-eyed boy. Harry grunted and sucked in his breath—his broken bone felt as if it would shatter if he couldn't get this arsehole off of him soon. Draco leaned in.
"I already know, Malfoy." Harry gritted, pushing through the pain and trying to move his body so he could get his knee in a good position. "You've got a crush on her? You tried to kiss her? I'll bet she laughed at you and you…couldn't…arrggh…take it!"
He kicked Draco off of him and immediately whipped around to grab his wand. Draco went for his own and, the twins and Crabbe and Goyle forgotten, their duel resumed—this time with a brutal edge that made Lockhart's little club look like child's play. They shot spells at each other without regard for either one's safety and more than once Harry had to wonder whether or not this was really about Angelina at all but about the simple fact that they hated each other with a passion.
Always had…and probably always would.
He didn't have much time to think more on this notion, for he had been hit with Malfoy's viciously thrown hex that felt as if he were getting a swift kick in the face. Harry fell to the ground, his nose feeling crushed and throbbing numbly. He knew there was blood running down over his mouth and chin, and he touched a shaking hand to it. When he drew his fingers back they were indeed stained with bright red blood. Harry glared up at Malfoy, wiped the blood from his face with the sleeve of his jumper, and got to his feet.
He took aim. Malfoy was ready to deflect, but Harry had no plan to hit him directly. He had just been kicked in the face; his nose was probably broken; and his boiling contempt was rising. His wand vibrated…he concentrated hard…the pulsing power within him surged forth and he shouted "Terra Motus!" The ground beneath Malfoy's feet gave a startling lurch and the boy lost his balance. Harry lost no time before whipping his wand in a circle, drawing on another spell he learned, and causing the other boy's body to whip around in the air just like Harry's wand. He twirled around like a human lasso and then fell hard again to the earth with a sickening "oof!" that Harry knew had knocked the wind clean out of him. When he was on the ground, Harry sprinted forth and was on top of him in seconds, driving his fist into the pale face as hard as he could. Malfoy reacted by jabbing his wand into the flesh on Harry's broken arm, and he convulsed with the agonizing pain, growling and falling back.
A few feet away from them, George and Crabbe were still fighting—George's face looked like a red fur ball, and Crabbe had also sprouted thick gray fur to go along with his ears, teeth, and tail. The angry neighing sounds could be heard every now and then. Goyle had managed to get his hands on Fred, despite the repeated invisible blows to the face. His features were all mashed together angrily, his skin red and flushed from being hit, but he was determined to thrash the holy hell out of George's brother.
Harry got Malfoy back for his arm by lunging his foot out and catching the other boy in his shin. Malfoy cried out and hit Harry with an Everte Statum that caused him to turn over and over bodily in the air until he touched ground hard, injuring his shoulder. Gritting through the pain, Harry flicked his wand viciously at Malfoy, causing the other boy's own wand arm to bend back unnaturally until he cried out in agony from the strain. Harry would've been content to break the arm if a wayward shot from Crabbe's wand hadn't cut across him. He erected a shield around himself and the red light bounced away, but seconds later Malfoy was on top on him again.
"Arggh! I'm going to kill you Potter!" Malfoy bellowed, hobbling up on his injured leg and using his other to kick at Harry.
He was about to try and drive his foot into Harry's face for real this time when someone shouted: "HEY! WHAT IN BLEEDIN' HYPPOGRIFFS ARE YOU KIDS DOING OUT HERE?"
Everyone froze. Harry turned his bloody face towards the booming voice and saw a rather large, bulky figure standing at the gate with a lantern hanging limply at its side. He could tell it was Hagrid without the benefit of the light. He felt a swell of both relief and blind panic fill him as Hagrid raised the lantern, revealing his face; which looked as if he too had been fighting among the boys on the pitch; and that thick mound of bushy black hair. He shook the creaky thing at them, the light bouncing across his bruised features.
"Fred? George? Malfoy? HARRY?" Hagrid did a double take upon sight of Harry and his mouth dropped open. He looked as if he were about to say something cutting, but just then Crabbe gave an involuntary "hee hawww!" and Hagrid jumped, startled by the sudden noise. "And blimey who're these two?"
"Hagrid, you're back…" was all Harry could think to say as the large man made his way across the field towards them all, looking very tired and very abused, but very angry. Harry stood up shakily, ignoring Malfoy at his side, and wiped at his bleeding nose again with his sleeve. His arm throbbed intensely, his adrenaline keeping the pain from overwhelming him.
"Yes, I am, but righ' now I'm lookin' at the lot of you wondering what in bloody hell is goin' on 'round 'ere! Why are you boys outta yer beds this time o'night, Harry?"
Everyone slowly let go of their fighting positions. Fred let go of Goyle's leg and picked up his wand again. George stood up from the ground, where he'd had his knee in Crabbe's belly and was about to hex him. Crabbe snorted through his now enlarged nostrils and got up too. He was actually turning into a donkey, and Harry wondered absurdly if Hagrid could use him in a Care of Magical Creatures class. George's face was still red and furry and he lowered it slightly so that his hair obscured it somewhat.
"Look at yer face!" Hagrid went on, jabbing the lantern at Harry to examine the cut under his eye and his bloody nose. He didn't seem to be thinking about his own face—he had a black eye the size of an apple and more nasty-looking cuts and bruises that made him look very gruesome. "What is going on here? Explain yerselves! Now!"
"Potter started it," Draco said quickly, wincing from the pain in his ribs. "He attacked me, and look those two hexed my friends!"
Crabbe neighed softly in agreement.
"You bloody liar!" Harry countered, ready to tackle his enemy despite Hagrid's presence. "You started it the moment you touched my girlfriend and if you don't shut up I'm gonna-!"
"Whoa! Easy, there Harry!" Hagrid had stuck out an enormous arm to stop Harry, for the boy had taken a threatening step towards Malfoy with every intention of thrashing him senseless. "Goodness, look at you! What's the meaning of all this? I came back from a very long journey and the last thing I need a'the mo' is a handful of crazed students abou' ter tear each other apar'!"
Hagrid looked from one face to the other, his anger scarier than any of theirs. Harry took a deep breath and opened his mouth to explain the situation when out of his peripheral vision he saw lights flicker on in the dark face of the castle. His heart lurched.
"Oh no. Fred, look!" Fred turned his gaze to the direction Harry had indicated and cursed under his breath. "Tell me you've got something-!" Harry's frantic inquiry was halted as Fred took off running.
"Wha'the? HEY! COME BACK 'ERE!" Hagrid started after the twin but Harry jumped in front of him.
"Hagrid, listen you've got to go back to your cabin, okay? Just pretend you didn't see any of us."
He realized that he was including Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle in his pleas, but just then he only wished to avoid capture by Umbridge and if that meant saving them too so be it.
"But look at the state you're in! I can't just-!" Hagrid took a step after Fred, but Harry persisted, though even if he didn't have a broken arm, pushing at the enormous man would do little good. "Harry, stop it! I'm takin' you to tha hospital wing, the lot of ya, and you're gonna answer to Dumbledore-!"
"No, you don't understand, Dumbledore isn't who we answer to anymore!" George joined Harry in blocking Hagrid's way.
"What? Now that's preposterous, git outta my way, I gotta catch your brother!"
"No, Hagrid let him go, he has to stop Umbridge! If she catches us down here we're goners, and you too!"
"Who in the blue blazes is Umbridge?" Hagrid brushed Harry to the side with his typical heavy-handed force and Harry gave a sharp intake of breath, the searing pain seizing him momentarily. "Harry, is your arm broken?"
"Potter's right," Malfoy gritted, looking as if it pained him something awful to be agreeing with his mortal enemy. He also looked panicked though, and Harry knew he was probably thinking of what his father would do to him if he was thrown out of school. Hagrid stopped walking and turned to peer at the other boy, his lantern shining at the grisly-looking black bruise that covered the whole left side of Malfoy's face. "She'll expel us all. And that idiot Weasel is running right towards the castle!" Malfoy's gaze shifted from the castle beyond to Harry.
"Shut up, Malfoy."
"No, all of ya be quiet!" Hagrid interrupted, his voice shaking them out of their stand off. "Now I may have been away, but I'm still a bloody teacher and I'm marching you all straight up to the castle to sort this mess out! That boy's got a tail, for Merlin's sake!"
He was about to yell at them some more but a loud POP! BANG! took the words right out of his mouth and they all turned to see, to their utter astonishment, that a huge fireworks display had been set off on the grounds. Bright reds and greens and yellows popped and fizzed and zoomed in the sky, lighting up the dark net of trees to their left and causing many little lights to flicker on in the castle to their right. The many swirls of color seemed to be moving into a pattern, and as they all stared at it in amazement, the pattern formed the likeness of Delores Umbridge looking especially ridiculous with an oversized round face and an enormous rear end. The giant, glittering words EAT POOP were spelled out over her head.
"Yeah!" George gave a whoop and beamed proudly at the ghastly and quite funny formation above their heads.
"Hagrid go back to your cabin! She's gonna come down here; you'd better not be around when she does!" Harry yelled, not waiting for the man to react but turning and sprinting off towards the tunnel that led to the locker rooms. "Come on, George, we have to hide!"
George started after him, followed by Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy.
"COME BACK HERE, YOU LITTLE-!" Hagrid bellowed after them, but they were all gone in a mad dash to find shelter in the dark tunnel.
"Don't tell her you saw us!" George called back before they all disappeared down into the darkness.
Hagrid sputtered and stamped his foot, his lantern shaking creakily on its hinges as he watched them all go. He stood there for a moment longer, torn between going after them and going to see what all the fuss was about over this Umbridge person. He heard Fang barking loudly and the call of angry voices in the distance. Heaving a great, exhausted sigh, Hagrid turned and lumbered back across the pitch and through the gate, the glittering light from the giant Umbridge and her EAT POOP muting the light from his creaky lantern.