Coveting Thy Enemy

Chapter 3: Retaliation

The first week of Harry's seventh year went very much as he had hoped. That is, the same as always. Harry never thought he would actually welcome routine, but as long as he and his friends didn't seem in any danger, he would welcome it with open arms. Unfortunately, his schedule was rather full. He had Double Potions again with the Slytherins, which was always right after breakfast; Divination, which was a mixed house class, Defense Against the Dark Arts, again with the Slytherins, and Care of Magical Creatures, Gryffindor/Slytherin yet again! Also that year, a new class was offered. Well, "offered" shouldn't be the word of choice; it was mandatory for sixth and seventh years. Instead of a Dueling Club, there was a Dueling course. It would seem that Dumbledore was getting a little antsy about the lack of threats from Voldemort, so he was of course taking precautionary measures. The class was a mixed house course that met twice a week after dinner. The cooperating professors were Severus Snape, who also taught Potions, and Remus Lupin, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Harry was surprised and rather happy when he had learned that Lupin had returned. Lupin had quit teaching at the end of Harry's fourth year when he felt his werewolf status had become quite dangerous. Lupin had been the one who taught Harry how to conjure a Patronus to help him combat his greatest fear, Dementors. Harry was looking forward to learning more from the quiet, but formidable man, but as of yet he and Snape had only been giving them foot after foot of notes on the Unforgivable Curses.

That Friday, Harry and Ron met the rest of their team on the Quidditch pitch. It was to be the first Quidditch practice of the year, and they were both looking forward to it. Ron had been bending the ear of every member until they just about voted him out as captain. He seemed to have an obsession this year about pounding the Slytherin team into the ground. Harry was glad when Ron had taken the captain position. Ron knew everything there was to know about Quidditch, and he was much better about organizing skills and tactics than Harry had ever been.

"Alright," Ron said when the team had assembled, "Three laps around the Quidditch pitch, and then we need to discuss the game plan for the Hufflepuff match next month." A simultaneous groan was heard from the group. Ron was going to be a slave driver this year.

The team had just finished their first lap to the scathing criticism of Ron when the Slytherin team appeared, led by none other than the biggest son-of-a-bitch know to wizarding kind, Draco Malfoy. Malfoy appraised the Gryffindor team with a crooked smirk. "Oh look mates, the little Gryffindor team is having a practice today. Doing laps Weasely? Don't you know this is a contact sport?"

"Bugger off, Malfoy," Ron said, the hatred he felt for the Slytherin captain made vividly aware when every muscle in his body seemed rigidly clenched. "It's a little early in the season to start spying on other teams."

Malfoy took Ron's statement with cool nonchalance. "Really, Weasely, I was just wondering why you had your girls out here practicing when the Slytherins have had the pitch reserved since the beginning of the week." A daring glare was seen in Malfoy's eyes when he said this.

"You're full of it, Malfoy. I've had the pitch reserved all week. If you erased my reservation off the schedule again, I'll kill you," Ron said. What little composure he had was slipping.

Harry felt the need to calm Ron down. There was nothing deadlier than an irate Weasely! "Ron, just let them have the pitch. Gods know, they definitely need the practice."

"Sod off, Potter. If Weasel wants to fight about it, I'd be more than happy to," said Malfoy. Obviously he was itching for a fight. After all, it had been a relatively calm week. Not only that, Harry suspected Malfoy was about fed up with his house's behavior toward him and wanted to take it out on someone.

"Forget it, " Ron said. He knew Malfoy wasn't worth the time and effort it would take to pulverize him.

"Forget what, Weasely? Forget that you're a complete moron, or that you're sister can do amazing things with her tongue?"

That was the last straw. It was one thing insulting Ron, but it was another to insult his sister. Ron growled deep in his throat and lunged at Malfoy, knocking him to the ground. All the rest of the boys could do was watch since it seemed to be a very fair match. Ron and Malfoy took turns vying for the top position as they wrestled on the ground.

"Take that, Malfoy," yelled Ron as his fist contacted with Malfoy's stomach.

Malfoy rolled on top of Ron, grabbed him by the hair and started beating his head against the ground. Harry made a move to pull Malfoy off Ron, but just then Ron rolled to the top position.

"You're a fucking bastard, Malfoy!" He then proceeded to rain blows on Malfoy's upper body. But, Malfoy would have none of this. In a tenth of a second, his fist arced and contacted with Ron's nose. There was a sickening crunch and then Ron's blood was everywhere.

Ron staggered to his feet, holding his hand over his nose, which was now gushing blood like a faucet. "Bloody hell, Malfoy. You broke my nose!" he shouted.

An overwhelming surge of anger rocked Harry's body. He shook himself from the astonishment of his best friend's predicament and rushed Malfoy who was now standing. He grabbed Malfoy by the collar and was just about to break his nose when he heard a loud female voice.

"STUPEFY!"

Harry and Malfoy found themselves trudging the unending steps of the tower. Every step seemed to be echoing their doom. Ron had been taken to the hospital wing by his teammates, leaving Harry alone to face Professor Dumbledore and McGonnaggal. Apparently, McGonnaggal had broken up the fight between he and Malfoy before it started with two well-placed "Stupefy" hexes.

He, Malfoy, and McGonnaggal stopped at the top of the stairs for McGonnaggal to give the password, "Giant Jumping Jellies". Dumbledore's password was always some type of sweet, be it Muggle or Wizard. They stepped into the office with their heads down, suddenly fascinated by their shoelaces.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy. I had a feeling I would see the two of you sooner or later," said Dumbledore. He had a disappointed frown on his face that still did little to suppress the twinkle that was always in his eyes. "What did they do this time, Minerva?' he asked Professor McGonnaggal, who was helping herself to some tea from the shiny tea tray that was always in his office.

"They were fighting on the pitch, Albus. First, Draco and Ron, who I sent to the hospital wing, then Draco and Harry."

"I see," said Dumbledore. "Minerva, you can go back to preparing next week's lessons. I'll see that the three are punished adequately." He waved his hand to the door and Professor McGonnaggal left, taking her teacup with her.

Dumbledore waved his hand again, gesturing toward two of the chairs opposite his desk. The boys sat down, still with their eyes to the floor. "So, who instigated this little skirmish?" he asked.

Harry spoke up. "Malfoy did, sir, he said some rotten things about Ron's sister." He glared at Malfoy, daring him to lie.

The other boy said nothing. Dumbledore took this as acquiesce to guilt. "So, Mr. Malfoy, I'm sure your house will be quite proud that you managed to injure a Gryffindor." Dumbledore had a way of cutting to the truth that was both shocking and frightening.

Draco's eyes finally lit on the Headmaster, registering shock. "I wasn't trying to impress my teammates sir, honestly," his voice said, with very little honesty in it.

Dumbledore decided to ignore Draco's lie. "You seem to be rather at odds with your house lately, Mr. Malfoy. Does this have anything to do with your refusal of the Dark Mark?"

Harry gasped quite audibly. Malfoy had refused the Dark Mark! He shook his head in confusion. Malfoy seemed to be the most likely person in the school to wear the mark proudly.

Dumbledore had managed to shock Draco yet again. Draco's jaw was moving up and down, making him look like a fish trying to breathe without water. "How did you know that?" he managed to stammer.

Dumbledore looked rather pleased and leaned back in his chair. "I have my ways, Mr. Malfoy. I was quite proud when I heard the news. But, be that as it may, I am still very disappointed in your behavior today. Yours too, Harry," he said, his eyes slicing to Harry. "So, I'm going to take three hundred points from Slytherin, since you instigated the fight, Mr. Malfoy, and two hundred from Gryffindor. One hundred points as a result of your actions, Mr. Potter, and another hundred for Mr. Weasley's."

Draco seemed the most upset of the two. He had lost three hundred points for Slytherin! Harry wondered if Draco was worried about becoming a further pariah to the Slytherins.

"Also, " continued Dumbledore, "You will both be serving a week's detention with Mr. Filch. This will start on Monday."

"A week's detention? Me and Potter? What about Weasely?" asked Draco, his voice registering a belief of unfairness.

"I believe the point reduction and the injury he sustained is punishment enough. You will report to Mr. Filch after dinner on Monday. Now, return to your houses, both of you." With that final word, he shooed the boys out the door.

When Draco and Harry reached the bottom of the tower, Draco turned to him with a flourish of his practice robes. "Thanks a lot Potter, you just had to butt into my fight with Weasely. Now I have to put up with you for a full week," he spat. If words were venom, Harry would have been poisoned.

Harry ignored Malfoy's comment. All he needed was to get into another fight. A week of Malfoy's company was more than enough. He shrugged off Malfoy's retorts and walked toward the hospital ward. He wanted to see how Ron was doing and see if he could get a headache remedy. The idea of spending time with Malfoy was making his head throb