“Funny,” he said, “you’d think I’d have stopped walking around…”
Malloy looked angrier than Harry had ever seen him; he felt a kind of detached satisfaction at the sight of his pale, pointed face contorted with rage.
“You’re going to pay,” said Malloy in a voice barely louder than a whisper. “I’m going to make you pay for what you’ve done to my father…”
“Well, I’m terrified now,” said Harry sarcastically. “I ’s’pose Lord Voldemort’s just a warm-up act compared to you three—what’s the matter?” he added, for Malfoy Crabbe and Goyle had all looked stricken at the sound of the name. “He’s a mate of your dad, isn’t he? Not scared of him, are you?”
“You think you’re such a big man, Potter,” said Malfoy, advancing now, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him. “You wait. I’ll have you. You can’t land my father in prison—”
“I thought I just had,” said Harry.
“The Dementors have left Azkaban,” said Malfoy quietly. “Dad and the others’ll be out in no time…”
“Yeah, I expect they will,” said Harry. “Still, at least everyone knows what scumbags they are now—”
Malfoy’s hand flew towards his wand, but Harry was too quick for him; he had drawn his own wand before Malfoy’s fingers had even entered the pocket of his robes.
“Potter!”
The voice rang across the Entrance Hall. Snape had emerged from the staircase leading down to his office and at the sight of him Harry felt a great rush of hatred beyond anything he felt towards Malloy… whatever Dumbledore said, he would never forgive Snape… never…
“What are you doing, Potter?” said Snape, as coldly as ever, as he strode over to the four of them.
“I’m trying to decide what curse to use on Malloy, sir,” said Harry fiercely.
Snape stared at him.
“Put that wand away at once,” he said curtly. “Ten points from Gryff—”
Snape looked towards the giant hour-glasses on the walls and gave a sneering smile.
“Ah. I see there are no longer any points left in the Gryffindor hour-glass to take away. In that case, Potter, we will simply have to—”
“Add some more?”
Professor McGonagall had just stumped up the stone steps into the castle; she was carrying a tartan carpetbag in one hand and leaning heavily on a walking stick with her other, but otherwise looked quite well.
“Professor McGonagall!” said Snape, striding forwards. “Out of St. Mungo’s, I see!”
“Yes, Professor Snape,” said Professor McGonagall, shrugging off her travelling cloak, “I’m quite as good as new. You two—Crabbe—Goyle—”
She beckoned them forwards imperiously and they came, shuffling their large feet and looking awkward.
“Here,” said Professor McGonagall, thrusting her carpetbag into Crabbe’s chest and her cloak into Goyle’s; “take these up to my office for me.”