Harry Malfoy's Trials | Book One

| The Forest

Filch brought them down to Professor McGonagall's study on the first floor, where they sat and waited without saying a word to each other. Hermione was trembling. Excuses, alibis, and wild cover-up stories chased each other around Harry's brain, each more feeble than the last. He couldn't see how they were going to get out of trouble this time. They were cornered. How could they have been so stupid as to forget the cloak? There was no reason on earth that Professor McGonagall would accept for their being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of night, let alone up the astronomy tower, which was out-of-bounds except for classes. Add Norbert and the invisibility cloak, and they might as well be packing their bags already.

Harry turned to look at Draco. It was like looking at a ghost, his skin deathly pale, and lips completely colorless. His eyes stared out, looking at nothing in particular as his mouth hung open. Harry guessed to himself that Draco was worrying about what their Father would say, or do, to him once he finds out. Growing up Mr. Malfoy regularly spanked them for troublemaking, but Draco always got off easy compared to Harry. Could this be the final straw, or will Mr. Malfoy blame everything on Harry? Harry couldn't help but start to worry about that too.

Professor McGonagall appeared looking furious. "I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the astronomy tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. Explain yourselves."

It was the first time Hermione had ever failed to answer a teacher's question. She was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue. Ron's hair stood up at it's end, small whimpers escaping his mouth.

"I'm disgusted," Professor McGonagall said. "Four students out of bed in one night! I've never heard of such a thing before! You, Miss Granger, I thought you had more sense. As for you, Mr. Malfoy, I thought Gryffindor meant more to you than this. All four of you will receive detention and fifty points will be taken from both Gryffindor and Slytherin."

"Fifty?" Harry gasped—they would lose the lead, the lead he'd won in the last Quidditch match.

"Each," Professor McGonagall said, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.

"Professor—please—"

"You can't—"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Mr. Weasley. Now get back to bed all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor or Slytherin students. Professor Snape will hear of this, Mr. Malfoy, mark my words."

A hundred and fifty points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In one night, they'd ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the house cup. Harry felt as though the bottom had dropped out of his stomach. How could they ever make up for this?

Draco didn't talk to them as he left towards the dungeon. Harry didn't sleep all night. He was dreading the dawn. What would happen when the rest of the Gryffindor found out what they'd done? What will his father do? Harry didn't want to think of the consequences.

At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglass that recorded the house points the next day though there'd been a mistake. How could they suddenly have a hundred and fifty points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started to spread: Harry Potter-Malfoy, the famous Harry Potter-Malfoy, their hero of two Quidditch matches, had lost them all those points, him and a couple of idiotic first years.

Harry suddenly became the most hated person at school. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on him, because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the cup. Everywhere Harry went, people pointed and didn't trouble to lower their voices as they insulted him.

Even Quidditch lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn't speak to Harry during practice, and if they had to speak about him, they called him "the Seeker."