“Weasel! Potty! Mudblood! Come here!� I yelled to Potter and his servants. They didn’t look pleased to see Crabbe, Goyle, and me, standing in the hallway.

“What do you want, Malfoy?� the red-haired git asked stupidly.

“Your father is in the Daily Prophet, of course!� I screeched, hoping everyone on their way to dinner in the Great Hall would hear. I showed him the clipping that Father had sent me. “Have a listen!

"THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC’S MANY MISHAPS
By Rita Skeeter

"On top of the disgrace of a riot at the Quidditch World Cup, and the inability to locate the missing Bertha Jorkins, a Ministry employee, the Ministry now has to deal with the embarrassment of actions by the Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, Arnold Weasley.�

Good, I thought. Everyone’s listening. This should be a laugh.

“What if they didn’t even name him properly? Oh, the shame,� I said with a smirk, knowing very well that his name is Arthur, not Arnold. “It’s almost as if he’s just a nobody. Wait --- he is just a nobody.� I continued to read:

“Two years ago, in 1982, Arnold Weasley was accused of owning an illegally bewitched Ford Anglia, getting himself in trouble with his own department. Last night’s events included a brawl with several ‘pleasemen’ (Muggle law-enforcers; equivalent to our Aurors) over some of Alastor “Mad-Eye� Moody’s magically enhanced dustbins. After arriving at the scene, Mr. Weasley, of course, found that Moody had been mistaken in saying that he had been attacked. Weasley had to modify several Muggle’s memories, and refused to answer any questions. �

“There’s even a photo, Weasel!� I taunted, holding up the paper. I loved to get on his nerves. “It’s your parents, outside their… Is that your home? Or is that just the outhouse? Anyway, your mum is a tad porky… She could do with some exercising, don’t you think?�

I had achieved what I wanted – Weasley had taken that one hard. He was shaking. Might as well have started foaming at the mouth; it’s not like it would’ve been the first time it’s happened on my account.

“Go away, Malfoy,� said Potter, coming to the rescue; the little twit. “Let’s go, Ron...�

“Weren’t you visiting with them on the holiday, Potty?� I sneered, wanting to make a nice, clean job of it. “You might be able to answer a question of mine, then. Is his mother that overweight, or is it just in the photograph?�

Potter and the Mudblood had to hold onto the back of Weasley’s robes to keep him from jumping me. He wouldn’t do much damage, anyway, with Crabbe and Goyle here.

“What about your mum? Why does she look so sour? You know, like someone’s shoved dragon fertilizer up her nostrils. Does she always look like that, or only when you’re around her?�

I could feel my cheeks turn red.

“Don’t ever, ever, ever talk about my mother, Scarhead,� I spat.

“Then don’t talk about Ron’s,� he replied, and made to leave.

They turned around, so I grabbed for my wand. They couldn’t hurt me. Their backs were turned, and I had Crabbe and Goyle by my side.

“Furnunculus!� I called, to give those nasty Gryffindors boils all over their filthy skin. It would be great. There weren’t even any teachers there to see me!

BOOM!

“DON’T YOU DARE!�

BOOM!

Well, I missed. I missed my target anyway. I hit a little second year boy from Ravenclaw. He shouldn’t have been in my way to begin with. A few people even screamed at the sight of what my curse had done. At least, I think that’s why. And why was there two “BOOM�s? I only performed the curse once…

Then I looked down.

What the bloody hell is that noise? I thought. What are these… these… white paw things doing here? Why is there something furry brushing the inside of my legs? Why am I so much closer to the ground? Why is everything in black and white? And why do I have the sudden urge to chase someone in circles, play tug-of-war, and hide behind a pillow on the couch?

I then heard loud, resounding thumps. There was a shoe near me. It was a big shoe; it looked as if it was larger than me. I recognized it as Crabbe’s. A giant hand came swooping down toward me. It, too, was Crabbe’s.

“DON’T TOUCH IT!� a far away voice said. I could not identify the speaker, but he sounded very, very cross.

Crabbe jumped away; the sound hurt my ears. It was so loud! I could even feel the vibrations in the marble floor. I looked up to see that not only Crabbe had leaped, but Goyle had to.

There that noise was again; the thumping sound of someone – a human - taking steps. Except, it wasn’t really a thump thump thump. It was more of a thump clink thump clink thump clink. I looked around, only to see one foot and one clawed, wooden leg. I squealed (Me? Squeal? What is going on?) at the sight of Professor Moody, and took off for the dungeons. I was almost there, when –

“No you don’t!� Moody snarled.

The next thing I knew, I was flying… up… up… up; then down… down… down… until I hit the floor – hard. Over and over again I flew, and over and over again I fell; time, after time, after time. Moody was saying something, but I couldn’t hear it. I was too preoccupied with being in pain.

“Professor Moody!� a woman said with a frightened, yet stern voice.

“Oh, Professor McGonagall, how lovely it is to see you here,� Moody said, still managing to bounce me higher and higher each time.

“What in the name of Merlin is going on here?� McGonagall gasped.

“I’m teaching a lesson, Minerva,� Moody said quite calmly.

“What kind of a lesson? Wait… Is that a pupil, Professor Moody?!� she cried in horror.

“What else would it be?� said Moody.

“I-I-I… MOODY!� stammered the professor, and with that, brought me back to humanity. I brushed the hair out of my eyes, feeling my face boil. Oh, the irony. “Didn’t Headmaster Dumbledore go over the rules when you took the job? Here at Hogwarts, we never, ever transfigure a student to punish them! Never! We assign detention, or at the least have a chat with the student’s Head of House! Albus must have told you that!�

“Yeah, I remember him saying something about it, but I thought my way might be just a little bit more effective than yours… Well, if you say so…�

“The Minister will hear about this, he will,� I muttered to myself. “My father’ll make sure your fat ‘ass’ lands in Azkaban, Moody! You just wait. I’ll be the one with the last laugh, you’ll see…�

“Really? Is that so?� Moody replied whisper just audible enough for me – only me – to hear. “I’ll have you know that your dear father and I are chums, so you just pass along the message, and see what he says.� Moody then raised his voice. “Snape’s the Head of your House, innee? Convenient for you, he’s another comrade of mine. We’ll see what he has to say about this… Come along, boy.� And with that, he half-pushed me along to the dungeons, toward Snape’s office.