When It Rains, It Pours (HP)(love triangle)(muggle au)

chapter four: one knife gone

Harry and his classmates chattered idly as they waited for the teacher to arrive. Twenty minutes soon passed and the spanish teacher had yet to show. Some kids considered leaving, and some actually left. If the teacher doesn't show on fifteen minutes you are legally allowed to leave, after all. Most people were mystified; Mr. Smith was always on time. Harry glanced over at his friends and was unsurprised to see Luna not mystified in the slightest. As expected, really; Luna wasn't phased by even the strangest things.

Tom, too, did not look confused. In fact, it was almost like he knew something. Harry's speculation was proven correct then Tom got up from his seat and went beside Harry's. He leaned down to his ear and spoke in a whisper. "I heard that Mr. Smith is a retired member of the Ministry."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Harry whispered back.

"The Barn," he said, "More specifically Hermione is getting closer to discovering the Secret. That's what they're saying, anyway. But they need one peice of vital information that only a member of the Ministry could know. They've explored all other options, rumor says, and are getting desperate. They want to learn the Secret without joining the Ministry and swearing to silence. Interrogating a former Ministry member is not out of bounds for them. Everyone says that, before class started earlier today, that Hermione was going to corner down Mr. Smith and get answers, 'One way or another'."

Harry's eyes widened, "You don't know think she-"

The door burst open and Harry was overcame with relief. Until he realized that the man coming through the door was not, in fact, Mr. Smith. He was a tall and rich dressing man and he stood at the front of the class, waiting for everyone to quiet down. Once he had their attention, he smiled, but it wasn't a good smile. It was freaky, sadistic, maybe, and seemed to show all of his teeth. "I have been sent by the Ministry to release you from this class for the day and deliver some rather unfortunate news," his voice was deep and unsettling and Harry held back a wince at he way he said 'unsettling,' "Mr. Smith has been stabbed and we could not legally help nurse him back to health. That's all. You are dismissed."

Later that day, people were saying that Hermione did not have her knife anymore.

∆¶∆

"I hate that," Harry said. It was lunch, now, and the infamous spelling bee would begin next period.

"Hate what, Harry?" Tom, who was sitting across from him and beside Luna, asked.

"That once you're stabbed by someone's birth-knife, you're basically already dead, even if you're not. Even if you can still come out of the situation alive, it's like they take steps to ensure you don't. Imagine how much it sucks to be dying when you don't have to be, and people just watch you and do nothing?"

"They legally can't do anything," Tom shrugged.

"I wish they could," Harry said and neither Tom nor Luna said anything in response. Which was expected, of course. People get one free kill, that's just how the world worked. It significantly reduced the amount of unregulated murderers, as well as the general population's anger issues and violence. It was the way the world was and, supposedly, it worked. But it was still sad. At least to Harry.

"Don't you ever think of killing anyone, Potter?"

Harry swung around in his seat to find the speaker. It came from the table parallel to his.

Malfoy.

Draco overhead Potter's ranting and was surprised; intrigued, more so. Why was Harry criticizing the system he wanted to help fuel? Harry was studying to become a part of the Ministry. Malfoy considered that maybe he was trying to tear down the system from the inside, but that was the smallest matter on his mind.

Harry paused, biting his lip. "I did, once," he admitted, "But it's wrong. To think that way, to want to kill- it's not good. This system, free-kills. It's wrong."

Malfoy snorted. "Saint Potter. Was it me you thought about killing? I can admit, I've thought about ending you time and time again-"

"My uncle," Harry interrupted, "And my aunt. Not you. You're not as insufferable as I treat you, Malfoy."

Tom, who was still seething with anger from the thought of Malfoy thinking about killing Harry, became confused. Harry hated Malfoy. They were rivals! It was a huge thing in the school. Iconic, even. And Harry hadn't once thought about killing the git? It didn't make sense. Maybe Malfoy is right about one thing, Tom thought. He really is Saint Potter.

Malfoy did not respond. He was busy thinking and overthinking. Why would smart but arrogant, calculating and loyal, Harry Potter hate his relatives to the point of wanting to murder them? And, more than that, Harry disliked his own blood more than him! His arch nemesis! He decided he would explore these thoughts in greater depth later and quickly changed the subject. "I bet a week's worth of lunch deserts that I can beat you in the spelling bee. Better yet, Potter, I bet I can win. You on?"

Harry considered the offer. Spelling was something Malfoy excelled it. He had plenty of time to study the spelling of things, and he did much more reading than Harry. Malfoy, fundamentally, was better than Harry at spelling. Harry thought he could hold his own, though, because he had a better memory. It was part of the reason he caught on to patterns so quickly. Harry had the entire spelling bee word list book they'd been provided memorized. If given a word at random, not from the book, Malfoy would do better than Harry. He would be able to analyze the way the word was pronounced, combined with former knowledge of how many other similar words have been spelled, and he may have read it before because of the abundance of books he read. Harry would not do so well if the words were not from the list.

But they were from the list. And so Harry said, "You're on, Malfoy."