The Wrong Twin

39

<3rd POV>

The next morning brought a huge and exciting surprise for the Slytherins. As they entered the Great Hall, they noticed a very interesting red letter sitting on the Gryffindor table. 

Three guesses on who the letter was being sent to?

You guessed right! 

"EVELYN POTTER and RONALD WEASLEY! WHAT WERE YOU TWO THINKING STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED THE TWO OF YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT RON'S FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE! WE RECEIVED A LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND EVELYN COULD BOTH HAVE DIED! WE ARE ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED—YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME."

The howler sitting in front of Ron's plate crumbled into ashes as the sound of Mrs. Weasley died down. 

Evelyn and Ron sat stunned, as though a tidal wave had just passed over them. A few people laughed and, gradually, a babble of talk broke out again. 

Draco turned to Harry as he grabbed a piece of toast. 

"Is Evelyn going to get a howler?" 

"Evelyn? You realize that her only guardian is James Potter, a resident prankster, mischief maker, and trouble maker? You think that he'd be scolding her? I would've bet that he'd be laughing himself hoarse back at their manor." Harry suggested. 

"Right..." Blaise laughed as Harry glared at him. 

~

"Malfoy, you are now the new seeker of Slytherin team." Marcus Flint, the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team said, shaking the hand of the second year. 

"Meanwhile, Black would be the new chaser." Marcus gave Harry a rare smile as he stood in the middle of the quidditch pitch. 

The Slytherin team stared up as the Gryffindor team swooped down, obviously noticing them. 

"FLINT! This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!" Wood bellowed at Marcus. 

"Plenty of room for all of us Wood." Flint replied. 

"But-but I booked the pitch!" said Wood, getting angrier by the moment. 

"Yes, but I've got a specially signed note from Professor Snape here. I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch Pitch, owing to the need to train their new seeker."

"Well who is this new seeker?" Evelyn Potter asked. 

Draco Malfoy stood from behind Harry as he smirked at the shocked looks on the Gryffindor team. 

"YOU? YOU'RE THE NEW SLYTHERIN SEEKER?"

"Why, yes thank you very much. And Harry here is the new chaser." Draco answered coolly. "And look what my father gave the Slytherin team." 

All seven of the green team held out their broomsticks. Seven polished, brand new handles and six sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words 'Nimbus Two thousand and one' gleamed brightly. The only broomstick that didn't spell out Nimbus Two Thousand and One, was indeed Harry's, as he prefer his normal and used Nimbus Two Thousand. 

"Very latest model. Only came out last month. I believe it outstrips the old Cleansweeps." Flint not so subtly glanced at Fred and George, who both winked in return. 

"Oh, look," said Flint. "A field invasion." Ron and Hermione were crossing the grass to see what was going on. 

"What's happening?" Ron asked Evelyn. "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?" He was looking at Draco, taking in his Slytherin Quidditch robes. 

"I'm the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley," said Malfoy, smugly. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team." 

"At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent. 

The smug look on Malfoy's face flickered. "No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.

Harry's hand immediately twitched. Draco knew how much Harry hated that word, considering his birth mother was a muggle born. He glared at Draco, and the blonde blinked twice before mouthing the word 'sorry' to Harry.   

Suddenly, a loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron's wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass. It was at that moment when Harry decided to focus back onto the present. 

"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" squealed the muggleborn.

Weasley opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap.

The Slytherin team began laughing at Weasley's pathetic state, just before Potter and Granger carried Weasley off to who-knows-where.