Black and White

10

Over the weekend, Draco busies himself making buttons. He offers to let me help, but when I hear what they are for, I refuse. They are made to insult Harry. I try to change the wording, but each charm I try just makes the insults worse. On top of that, Ron and Harry are fighting like an old married couple because Ron thinks Harry purposely entered the Tournament.

I feel sorry for my godbrother. In about a day, he lost his best friend and most of his classmates' support. Though I do hear Cedric trying to stop people from wearing Draco's buttons.

I am sitting under a tree- a normal tree- reading, while Draco climbs up. He's waiting for Harry to come by, to taunt him. Draco's goons are all around, but I ignore them. They aren't as rude to me as the rest of the house, though I know it's just because Draco still calls me family, even though our relation is more distant than we thought.

"Why so tense, Potter?" he asks as Harry walks up, hopping out of the tree. "My father and I have a bet, you see. I don't think you're gonna last ten minutes in the tournament. He disagrees. He thinks you won't last five."

"I don't give a da*n what your father thinks, Malfoy," Harry seethes, pushing Draco. "He's vile and cruel. And you're just pathetic."

"Pathetic?" Draco asks, drawing his wand as Harry tries to walk away.

"Oh, no you don't, sonny," Professor Moody shouts, coming out of seemingly nowhere. He turns my cousin into a ferret and bounces him around. "I'll teach you to curse someone when their back is turned! You stinking, cowardly, scummy, back-shooting-"

"Professor Moody," McGonagall shouts, running up. "What are you doing?"

"Teaching," Moody answers.

"Is that a- Is that a student?" Professor McGonagall asks.

"Technically, it's a ferret," Moody states, and I have to stifle my laughter. Moody uses magic to shove my ferret cousin down Goyle's pants. As soon as Draco makes his way out of Goyle's pant leg, McGonagall turns him human again.

"My father will hear about this!" Draco yells.

"Is that a threat?" Moody questions, going after Draco.

I jump in front of my cousin. As funny as that was, I don't trust Moody not to curse him with something worse.

"I could tell you stories about your father that would curl even your greasy hair!" Moody yells over my shoulder, and I flinch at his tone.

Draco and his friends run off as McGonagall stops Moody.

"We never use transfiguration as a punishment," she scolds. "Surely Dumbledore told you that."

"He might've mentioned it," Moody admits.

"Well, you would do well to remember it," McGonagall huffs.

As McGonagall leaves, Moody makes a face at her back, before turning to Harry and I.

"You two, come with me," he orders.

Harry and I glance at each other and decide to just follow instructions. The man leads us to his office, where he takes off his fake leg. Harry looks at a glass on his desk.

"That's a foe glass," Moody explains to us. "Let's me keep an eye on my enemies. If I can see the whites of their eyes, they're standing right behind me." Suddenly, a chest starts shaking and shuddering, making me jump. "Wouldn't even bother telling you what's in there. You wouldn't believe it if I did." Then, he looks just at Harry. "Now, what are you going to do about your dragon?"

"Dragon?" I ask.

"The first task," Harry tells me, before answering Moody. "Well, you know, I just thought I'd..."

Moody kicks a stool over. "Sit. Listen to me, Potter. Your friend Diggory? By your age, he could turn a whistle into a watch and have it sing you the time. Miss Delacour? She's as much a fairy princess as I am. As for Krum, his head may be filled with sawdust, but Karkaroff's is not. They'll have a strategy. And you can bet, they will play to Krum's strengths. Come on, Potter. What are your strengths?"

"I don't know," Harry admits. "Well, I can fly. I mean, I'm a fair flyer. But..."

"Better than fair, the way I hear it," Moody encourages.

"But I'm not allowed a broom," Harry reminds.

"You're allowed a wand," Moody says.

"Of course!" I exclaim. "Accio. It will bring an object to you."

Moody smiles at me. "Exactly," he says. "Potter, you might want to keep this one around. 'Tween her and Granger, they oughta be able to keep you alive. Anyway, you go and work on that, while me and Miss Black here have a cup of tea."

Harry leaves and suddenly I'm alone with Professor Moody.

"Sorry about the stench," he says, passing me a cup. "Somebody decided to dungbomb my office. You wouldn't know anything about that, now would you?"

"No, sir," I tell him. "No idea."

"Mmhmm," he mutters, eyeing me. "I wanted to say I'm sorry for harassing you about your father in my class. And making you watch the Cruciatus Curse. It obviously bothered you. Don't worry, I'm not going to ask why. But I wanted to show you this."

He passes me a picture of a group of adults, men and women. I recognize him immediately. He's younger. And there's Dumbledore, and Harry's parents, Hagrid, Professor Lupin, Neville's parents, and... my mom and dad are there.

"You knew my parents?" I ask.

"I did," he answers. "They fought fiercely against the Death Eaters and all of You-Know-Who's forces. I admired them. We were all shocked when we heard that your father turned on James and Lily."

"Well, you know," I start quietly, "I don't really remember my parents all that well, but from everything I've heard... well, are they sure Dad turned on his friends? I mean, is it at all possible that Pettigrew faked his own death?"

Moody gives me a strange look. "I couldn't say," he eventually tells me. "I only knew your father for a short amount of time, and your mother even shorter. A wonderful woman, she was. You look just like her."

"Thank you," I say, accepting the compliment.

"Your teachers tell me you're quite good with language," Moody suddenly changes the subject. "McGonagall said you confessed to understanding mermaid speak."

My face turns red. "Yes, sir," I admit. "Raised in Malfoy Manor, I spent a lot of time by the lake when I was little. Eventually, I was able to recognize the patterns of the clicks and make out their meanings. Professor Lupin, from last year, he said it had to do with my mother having mermaid heritage. One of her great-grandmothers, I think."

Moody nods. "It's a rare talent, talking with the merfolk."

"Well, I've never been able to talk back," I reply. "I can only understand them, not repeat it back."

"Hmm," Moody considers, before passing me a book. "Maybe this will help. Just be careful testing it out. I can't do it, myself. Figured it's time to give someone else a shot."

I look at the thick book. Mermaid Dialects by Region and How to Speak Them.