𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 | 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘺 𝘗𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳

19 || Well, He's Dumb

Our next lesson, Transfiguration, went well for Hermione and I, as we successfully transformed our beetles into black coat buttons. However, Ron's wand had snapped in half when he and Harry had flown in, and only spell-o-tape was holding it together.

"Stupid--useless--thing--" muttered Ron, banging his wand against the lunch table, rocking my goblet of water.

"Write home for another," Hermione suggested.

"And get another Howler back? No thanks-"

"What've we got next?" I interrupted, looking at Harry's schedule.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," he replied. "But we've got a while until it starts."

"Let's go outside," Ron said under his breath, for his wand was now emitting a high-pitched whistling noise and people around the Great hall were staring at us.

We sat underneath the shade of a small pine, talking about Quidditch while Hermione read her book, Voyages With Vampires.

Ron nudged Harry and pointed. There was a small boy with a very red face, clutching an ordinary Muggle camera.

"All right, Harry? I'm--I'm Colin Creevey," he breathed, taking a tentative step forward. "I'm in Gryffindor too. D'you think--would it be alright--if I could have a picture?"

"A picture?" Harry asked blankly. I stifled a laugh and started to read a passage in Hermione's book, purely out of boredom. I mostly ended up humming "The Show Must Go On" by Queen, one of my new favorite bands, thanks to Hermione's cassettes. I only snapped back to reality when I heard Draco Malfoy's loud drawl.

"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?"

Loud and scathing, he had come up right behind Colin, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Everyone line up! Potter's giving out signed photos!" he roared to the entire courtyard.

"No, I'm not," said Harry angrily. "Shut up, Malfoy."

"You're just jealous," piped up Colin, who was as thick as Crabbe's neck.

"Jealous?" sneered Malfoy. "Of what? I don't think I want a foul scar across my forehead, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you special, myself."

"Really?" I said, standing up beside Harry. "I think it does, considering he survived a killing curse sent from--oh, you know--your father's old master." Everyone in the courtyard froze as Malfoy's sneer faltered a bit.

"Don't speak to me, blood-traitor," he spat finally.

"Eat slugs, Malfoy," Ron barked.

"Careful, Weasley," he snickered. "Don't want to get another Howler, do we? Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter, it'll be worth more than his whole house-"

Ron had whipped out his spell-o-taped wand, but Hermione had shut her book and tugged on the sleeve of his robes.

"Watch out!" she whispered. Professor Lockhart had strode into the courtyard.

"What's all this?" said Professor Lockhart. "Who's giving out signed photos?"

"No one," I told him, annoyed. But Lockhart had caught sight of Harry and threw an arm jovially around his shoulders.

"Shouldn't have asked!" he exclaimed. "Come on then, Mr. Creevey. A double portrait, and then we'll both sign it for you." Colin eagerly snapped photos while Harry, face as red as a tomato, tried and failed to wrench away from Lockhart's grasp.

"Off you go, move along, now!" Professor Lockhart called to the crowd. He started off towards the corridors with Harry clamped to his side.

"Tough luck," snickered Ron, and I joined him.