The Art of Collecting

"Harry, can you pass me the butter?" Ron asked, head down as he tried to separate his mashed potatoes and his chicken.

Harry didn't reply.

"Mate? The butter?" Ron tried again, still not looking up. He was very adamant against letting his food touch.

Harry still remained silent.

"Harry." Ron raised his voice, the potatoes were nearing dangerous territory, if he looked up now he would chance a breach.

Ron groaned, shooting a glare at him,

"Are you even listening to-"

Ron's words stopped abruptly as he froze.

It had been nearly a year since the war.

Nearly a year since Ron had ever seen Harry with this much fury in his eyes.

Harry was watching something across the room, his hands shaking in tightly clenched fist, one holding his wand so hard he had half the mind to worry it would snap.

Harry didn't particularly care though, he couldn't care about anything but the scene that had caught his attention five minutes ago.

He was watching Draco Malfoy.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered, "Are you alright?" She had noticed now too.

Harry didn't hear her over the blood rushing in his ears. Surely he would explode any second now. Surely he would snap and draw his wand without waiting for an explanation.

But the look in Malfoy's eyes... no, Harry didn't need an explanation.

Dean leaned away from Harry, like he was a bomb ready to go off, maybe he was,

"C'mon man, you're freakin' me out." Dean muttered.

Harry shot up from his seat, ignoring the protests of his friends, and walked across the room.

The whole way his eyes were locked on Malfoy, he didn't notice how some of the teachers looked to him in confusion, or how a fair amount of students stared in wonder.

He didn't look- couldn't look at any of them. He couldn't ever look away from this.

Someone had their wand pressed to Malfoy's throat.

Someone who Harry would be nothing but grateful to return the favor for.

He walked up silently behind them, leaning in close as he raised his wand. He listened for a second.

"You filthy fucking Death Eater-" The kid was saying, his sneer very much visible even as he tried to hide his wand from view.

It was enough, anger rolled out of Harry in waves.

He lifted his wand and pressed it hard to the guy's spine,

"Let me know which hex makes you lose feelings in your legs." Harry whispered, "Don't worry, I'll try a few."

The kid jumped, turning his head to look back at Harry.

"Harry Potter?" He hissed under his breath, terrified, "What are you-"

"You have four seconds." Harry cut him off, "Or I start reciting every curse I can think of." He smiled menacingly, "And trust me, I know quite a lot."

The kid stayed frozen, confused and scared.

"One." Harry started to count when he didn't move.

That did it, the kid pushed away from the table, dropping his wand in his haste, and sprinted out of the Great Hall doors.