Jinx Not-So-Malfoy and the Heir of Slytherin

***COMING SOON***

 "What's going on?" said Wood, frowning, as he skimmed through the air toward them. "Why's that first year taking pictures? I don't like it. He could be a Slytherin spy, trying to find out about our new training program."

"He's in Gryffindor," said Harry quickly.

"And the Slytherins don't need a spy, Oliver," said George.

"What makes you say that?" said Wood testily.

"Because they're here in person," said George, pointing. Several people in green robes were walking onto the field, broomsticks in their hands.

"I don't believe it!" Wood hissed in outrage. "I booked the field for today! We'll see about this!"

Wood shot toward the ground, landing rather harder than he meant to in his anger, staggering slightly as he dismounted. Harry, Fred, and George followed.

"Flint!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin Captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially! You can clear off now!"

Marcus Flint was even larger than Wood. He had a look of trollish cunning on his face as he replied, "Plenty of room for all of us, Wood."

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie had come over, too. There were no girls on the Slytherin team, who stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the Gryffindors, leering to a man.

"But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"

"Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker."

'"You've got a new Seeker?" said Wood, distracted. "Where?"

And from behind the six large figures before them came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking all over his pale, pointed face. It was my one and only brother, Draco Lucius Malfoy.

"Aren't you Jinx's brother?" said Fred, looking at Malfoy with dislike. "Lucius Malfoy's son?"

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," said Flint as the whole Slytherin team smiled still mor ebroadly. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words Nimbus Two Thousand and One gleamed under the Gryffindors' noses in the early morning sun. My jaw dropped.

"Very latest model. Only came out last month," said Flint carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps" -- he smiled nastily at Fred and George, who were both clutching Cleansweep Fives -- "sweeps the board with them."

None of the Gryffindor team could think of anything to say for a moment. Draco was smirking so broadly his cold eyes were reduced to slits.

"Oh, look," said Flint. "A field invasion."

Ron and Hermione were crossing the grass to see what was going on. I decided that was a good time to take off the cloak. I slipped behind the bleachers and removed it, popping out, not even being noticed.

"What's happening?" Ron asked Harry. "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 Draco, smugly. "Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team. Ron gaped, open-mouthed, at the seven superb broomsticks in front of him.

"Good, aren't they?" said Draco smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherin team howled with laughter.

"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 Draco's face flickered. I beamed at Hermione.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat.

"YOU FUCKING LITTLE SON OF A BITCH!" I yelled. "THAT WAS SO FUCKING UNCALLED FOR AND YOU FUCKING KNOW IT, DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY!"

Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him, Alicia shrieked, "How dare you!"; and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Malfoys face. 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.

"Ron! Ron! Are you all right?" squealed Hermione. Ron 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.

Ew.