Meles Malfoy

When Draco got back to the Sett before the evening meal, he found the rest of the first years gathered excitedly around the notice board. Pushing to the front, he found a poster announcing the start of flying lessons later in the week. This was one of the things that Draco had been looking forward to. "Has it really been almost a month since I took my Comet out for a spin?" he asked himself.

He was not alone in his eagerness to take to the skies. Most of the year couldn't wait either. Justin was, as usual, excited but not overly nervous about flying. He unwittingly started an argument with Zacharias when he said that flying sounded like a mixture of riding a horse and a bicycle. Hannah, on the other hand, whose parents worked for a broom company, said that Justin wasn't too far off the mark.

For the rest of the week, the first years bombarded Justin with what they thought to be helpful hints and tips until any initial confidence that the Muggle-Born had possessed, had dissolved into doubt and circumspection. The evening before the lesson the next morning, Justin finally asked Draco (who, being a Malfoy, never volunteered advice) for his opinion on what to do in the lesson.

"The thing is, no one can teach you how to fly. You either can fly well or you can't. Just don't try anything stupid and leave the showing off to me."

"But what if I can't get the thing off the ground?" replied Justin.

"Look, you are a wizard, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"And being a wizard means you can manipulate magical objects right?"

"Yes."

"And isn't a broomstick is a type of magical object?"

"Yes."

"So where's the problem?"

"But what if I'm rubbish at flying and everyone laughs at me?"

"Well, we wizards have a name for people like that."

"What's that?"

"The Gryffindor Quidditch Team."

"Oh right..." replied Justin not getting Draco's joke at all. "Excuse me, I'm just going to get washed up for bed."

Draco, continuing their conversation through the bathroom door was intrigued by a curious sound coming from inside. He followed Justin inside and found his room-mate rubbing the inside of his mouth with a blue coloured stick.

"What on earth are you doing?" he asked.

"Buntung mu tunth,wumph dumph lumph lunk?" came the reply.

"What?"

At this, Justin bent over the sink and spat out some white coloured foam and repeated, "I'm brushing my teeth. What does it look like?"

"What are you brushing for?" asked Draco.

"Well to clean my teeth and keep my breath fresh. Why else? You have to brush twice a day to get rid of plaque and stuff," replied Justin, who was beginning to feel rather foolish for having to explain all this.

"I have never heard of this. Is it a Muggle thing? You must get through an awful lot of brushes if you do it twice each day," asked Draco, intrigued.

"Yes, it's a Muggle thing, and you only need to replace the brush every few weeks or so."

"That has to be one of the most disgusting things I have ever heard! You put an old... brush... in your mouth!"

Justin, embarrassed by Draco's reaction countered by asking, "Well, how do you keep your teeth clean then?"

"With a charm that gets rid of plaque, tartar and repairs the worst of tooth decay."

"Brilliant, could you show me?"

"Sorry, it's quite advanced, but I have the next best thing," replied Draco, rummaging in his side of the bathroom cabinet. "Toothflossing Stringmints !" he announced, flourishing a small box.

After Justin had finished his mint, he said, "Wow, my mouth feels strange; not bad, just... different."

"That's because it's clean." replied Draco. "There is no earthly way that you could have properly cleaned your teeth with one of those filthy brushes. Tomorrow, first thing after lunch, go to the Sick-Bay and get Madam Pomfrey to cast the Sterident charm, and cut out this Muggle rubbish in future, OK?"

The flying lesson the next day went better than expected. Even Draco learned something new about the way he held the shaft and Justin seemed to be fairly competent and was able to follow the simple obstacle course set out by Madam Hooch.

"I don't know what he was worried about; he was much better than half the Ravenclaws," thought Draco.

Draco was still quite preoccupied with his promise to Crabbe and Goyle and spent most of the evening meal on Friday in the Great Hall thinking up ways to teach Potter a lesson in manners. He was having a great deal of difficulty in devising a plan to get Harry to lose his temper and thereby give him the chance to retaliate justifiably.

"The problem is that he presents a public face so even tempered that it's almost impossible to get the little prig angry," he mused to himself. Just then, he realised that he had caught Harry's eye and the pair were locked in a stare with each other for slightly longer than Draco was comfortable with.

The solution to Draco's problem presented itself far sooner than Draco expected. On Monday afternoon, the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were still flushed with the success of their first flying lessons the previous week as they filed into Greenhouse number one and took their places around the potting benches. Draco was annoyed to see that a large shrub that shivered and occasionally spat out a sticky globule of greyish goo had been placed a few feet away from his seat.

"Don't worry about the Pulpsap tree," said Professor Sprout, entering the room from an adjoining greenhouse. "It's been suffering from a bit of a cold since it arrived last week... Can anyone tell me where the Pulpsap tree originates?"

At this, several hands shot up, including that of the bushy haired Gryffindor. Unfortunately for her, Ernie got the house point for answering correctly. This was because Hermione's attention was diverted towards Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, who had managed to sneak into class late and take their places at her bench with their backs to Draco, without Professor Sprout noticing.

The rest of the lesson would have passed without incident had the Pulpsap not kept sneezing. Draco, who knew better than to get in the way of an unwell (and possibly contagious) plant, was able to duck just as he heard a particularly loud sneeze coming on. He looked up just in time to see the sight of a large wad of mucus follow a graceful parabola and land with a satisfying splat on Harry's untidy mop of hair.

The next thing that happened ended up the subject of many a conversation in the Sett over the following months. Harry turned around in his stool, drawing his wand as he turned and proceeded to shoot flames towards what he had assumed was his attacker. The fire merely singed Draco's robes slightly, but unfortunately the Pulpsap plant was not quite so lucky.

Professor Sprout was able to extinguish the flames within seconds, but the poor plant looked like it had lost half its leaves. "Mr. Potter! What is the meaning of this?" demanded the furious teacher.

Harry, whose face had become bright red with righteous indignation replied, "Malfoy shot some sort of sticky stuff at me and got it all over my head!"

"Don't you dare speak to me in that tone of voice!" replied the professor, glancing briefly at Draco, who just managed to hide his smirk in time. "If you had been on time to class instead of sneaking in after it started, you would have heard me tell everyone that this," she said, gesturing to the forlorn, waterlogged shrub, "is a very rare African Pulpsap plant that you have very nearly killed. Don't think I hadn't noticed you sneaking in. I was going to give you the benefit of the doubt if you had knuckled down to some work. But now... just get out of my class and go to your Head of House!"

After a shamefaced Harry Potter had left the greenhouse, Professor Sprout resumed her lesson. "She's definitely regretting losing her temper now, so it's probably best not to do anything to anger her any more," thought Draco. Most of the rest of the class obviously thought the same thing and the atmosphere for the rest of the period was unusually tense.

Draco was amused to see that the incident had clearly upset Granger, who looked like she was planning what she was going to say to Potter when she saw him next.

"McGonagall is probably helping him pack his trunk to send him back to his Muggle Family right now, and just think of all the house points he's going to lose!" gleefully whispered Draco to her as they were leaving the class.

That evening as Draco, Ernie and Justin entered the Great Hall together for Dinner, they were surprised to find Harry and Ron sitting together looking pleased with themselves. Draco wanted to know more. As they approached the Gryffindor table, he was the first to speak.

"You're looking pretty cheerful for one who is about to be expelled. What's happened? Are you getting the whole train to yourself or something?"

"Shows what you know Malfoy. Harry's just been... ow!" replied Ron as Harry cut his friend off with a kick under the table.

"Just been what?" demanded Draco.

"None of your business Malfoy," replied Harry.

"You owe me for what happened today."

"What?"

"You ruined my robes and you are going to have to pay for it."

"Pay for it? I barely singed them," retorted Harry.

"Well, I demand a Wizard's duel. Midnight in the Trophy Room room." Draco paused to take in the pair's shocked reaction to his challenge. "That is unless you don't even know what that is..."

"Of course he knows about dueling," interrupted Ron. "I'm his second, who's yours?"

Draco had not banked on things going this far and looked to Ernie (who was looking daggers at him) and then to Justin (who looked much more enthusiastic).

"Finch-Fletchley," he replied at last. "You'd better not chicken out tonight."

"You wish, Malfoy!"

Draco only replied with his most superior looking sneer before turning and heading towards the Hufflepuff table.

"Just what are you playing at Malfoy?" demanded Macmillan.

"He assaulted me, I'm simply getting my revenge."

"You can't have a duel at midnight - you could lose a lot of house points. Besides, you could get hurt."

"Who said that I was actually going to show up. Relax, Macmillan, what I'm going to do is tip Filch off, go to bed and the next morning we all wake up and Potter and his 'Entourage of One' are in a load of trouble for being out after curfew."

"You can't do that. It's wrong!" exclaimed Justin suddenly. "Surely there has to be some sort of Wizarding code that says that you have to keep your word about these things."

Justin's words struck a chord with Draco. Being taught a lesson on Wizarding etiquette by a Muggle-born was bad enough, but the fact that he knew that Justin was right made it even worse.

"Justin's right," said Ernie, "and I'm going too, to make sure."

It was later that evening that the three checked that the Sett was quiet before gathering up their wands and, in pyjamas and dressing gowns, went to the Trophy Room.

The room was empty by the time they arrived. "I knew it," hissed Draco, "they bottled it."

"Hold on," whispered Ernie, looking at his watch, "it's still only five to. I say we wait until five past and then we go."

Draco was about to reply that that was a stupid idea when the silence was broken by a sound that he had not wanted to hear. A group of Gryffindors emerging from the opposite end of the room, bickering amongst themselves.

As the group emerged from the gloom, Draco noticed that the Hufflepuffs were now outnumbered four to three. "Well now Potter, decided you needed backup, did you?"

"I could say the same myself, Malfoy," replied Harry, glaring at Ernie who had tried to hide himself in the shadows.

"Let's just get this over with," said Ernie.

"And who died and put you in charge?" retorted Ron.

"Surely as Seconds, we should be trying to resolve this without resorting to violence?" said Justin to Ron.

"There's not much chance of that is there? Malfoy wants a fight and Harry's going to give him one. What is there to discuss?" replied Ron.

"Can't you boys all just wise up? If we get caught, we'll all be in trouble," said Hermione.

Just as an argument was fomenting they were all cut off by Longbottom who cried, "Look, it's Mrs. Norris!"

They all turned and for a few seconds, stared in shock at the lantern-eyed cat. The animal was rarely seen without her master following closely and they all knew what would happen should Filch catch them out of bed. Harry was the first to recover, "Run!" he shouted.

All seven fled away from the cat until they reached a staircase with Harry taking the lead. "Split up! We'll go upstairs, you go down," he shouted. Without breaking step, the Gryffindors fled upstairs towards the third floor leaving the Hufflepuffs to make their way back to the Sett, fully convinced that Mrs. Norris and her owner were following them all the way.

After running along a number of corridors Draco became convinced that they were lost. "Alright! In Merlin's name, where are we? This isn't the way to the Sett."

"Don't you know?" replied Justin.

"This is the way to the back entry," finished Ernie. "We were told about it on the first night. It's very small and dirty so we don't use it much but it should be just along here behind the statue of Shakespeare's sister."

"Shakespeare's sister?" asked Malfoy.

"Yes, she was headmistress in the seventeenth century," replied Macmillan.