The atmosphere was one of tense anticipation and ominous bewilderment in Godric’s Hollow that day. It was full of trepidation in stark contrast to the morning’s gorgeous appearance: birds were twittering cheerfully in the vivid green foliage of the trees outside, and a soft breezy summer wind tickled the tattered, moth eaten scarlet curtains around the open window. However, despite the beautiful day, if a stranger were to look inside, he would have witnessed an unbelievable scene.
A young girl lay unconscious on the floor, a red head teen stood pointing a wooden stick at a heavily bandaged blonde lad, and a black haired, bespectacled adolescent getting ready to pick up the bushy haired, fainted, girl.
Harry Potter jumped back in shock for a few seconds before he realized that one of his best friends was sprawled on the floor in a dead faint. He scooped her up like she was a sack of potatoes, and slung her over his shoulder.
Ponce, thought Draco. Honestly! What dignified person picks up a lady like that for crying out loud, even if it is the Mudblood! Besides, wasn’t Granger all cozy with Potter?
Harry strode quickly out of the room uncivilly dragging Hermione along with him. Ron stayed behind glaring at Draco with a meaningful look in his blue eyes. Draco stared back at the red-head. He was not going to be the one to lose this little staring contest.
“So,” hissed Ron through clenched teeth, “now that we’re alone, why don’t we settle some unfinished business?”
Draco stared back, with a small smirk playing on his lips. “Weaselbee, I’d love to, but I’m not like that.”
Ron began to cough in embarrassment but quickly concealed it with a snort of disgust. His ears felt like they were on fire.
“Oi! Ears that match your hair! The next trend in Secondhand Fashion,” Draco snorted with mirthless glee.
“I wouldn’t be laughing so hard if I were you,” said the red head, with the air of a child who had a better toy than his inferior. “See this here wooden stick?” He brandished his wand mockingly in front of Draco’s face. “I have one and you don’t!”
Draco grinned evilly. “Brings back memories of Second Year, you remember that day, Weasel? You remember all those slugs? I don’t recall using a wand back then either. But we were just boys back then weren’t we?” he mocked.
Draco stepped closer and closer as he taunted the Weasel. He was so close that he could almost feel the Weasel’s putrid breath. Draco stepped back so that he wouldn’t be contaminated with his inferiority.
“Scared, Malfoy?” Ron sneered. “We’re not two little boys anymore…in fact, we’re two men.”
“You sure about that?” asked Malfoy jauntily, the brilliant shafts of light streaming through the window making his eyes water.
Weasley’s eyes are kind of wet, too. But that is probably because he is scared, Draco noted. “I mean if someone walked into this room they would surely see a man and a litte girl,” he sneered.
“Oh. I quite agree!” Ron hissed.
“The question is which is which…” Malfoy had a maniacal grin on his face.
“Death Eater!
“Ponce!”
“Git!
“Pauper!”
“Buggerbrain!”
“Weasel!”
“Ferret!”
“SQUIB!”
“PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!” Ron shrieked with the enthusiastic shrillness of someone unleashing several years of bottled up hatred.
Malfoy’s body froze, his arms and legs snapped to his sides, and he fell back on the tattered maroon and gold oriental rug with a thud. Small clouds of dust puffed up around him.
“That was for all that insults and jokes you’ve made at my expense.”
Ron waved his wand wildly about sending fuchsia sparks all over the room.
Draco couldn’t move with the exception of his eyes, but he could feel. He felt a painful sensation forming around his toes.
RIIIIIPPP! The tips of his trainers split open as his toenails forced themselves out of his shoes. With horror, Draco saw as they kept on growing until they reached the ceiling, and could no longer force their way through the cracked, spotted plaster.
“That was for all the times you called Hermione, Mudblood,” Ron yelled.
“FURNUNCULUS!”
Hot, angry red boils erupted all over Draco’s face, each burning and pussing, making him feel as if a great vat of undiluted bubotuber pus had been dumped on his countenance.
“That was for all the crap your Inquisitorial Squad gave us in Fifth Year.”
Ron jabbed his wand into Malfoy’s cheeks. “DENSAUGEO,” he hissed with a maniacal glint in his eyes.
Draco felt his molars being rapidly enlarged, growing longer and longer, making him look like some sort of mutant beaver. CRIPES! He probably looked like a cross between Eloise Midgen and Mudblood Granger!
“You can work out for yourself what that was for!”
Ron looked confused about what to do next, but his face quickly changed from one of hesitance to a grin of victorious glee.
He waved his wand over Draco’s head and turned it to a very fiery shade of ginger.
Draco’s hair was now Weasel Red!
Ron conjured a mirror over Draco’s face and allowed his enemy to indulge in his new makeover: red hair, bulging boils, unnaturally large teeth, and gross toenails. He savored the panicked expression in Draco’s eyes.
He blew at the tip of his wand, twirled it like a baton, and strutted toward the room Harry and Hermione had just disappeared into.
He did not get very far though because Harry stepped out looking very pale and peaky with a sickly looking Hermione hanging onto his arm.
“Hermione? You okay?” Ron asked.
“I am now, nice of you to show up after Harry enervates me!” Hermione hissed.
“Sorry ‘bout that…I was…er…busy…” he said sheepishly. Ron dodged around to block Harry and Hermione from being able to see Malfoy’s dreadful state.
“Busy? With what ?” Hermione’s face was reddening ominously.
“Erm…don’t get angry, okay…” Ron begged stepping from side to side so that he guarded Hermione’s line of vision.
“Oh, come off it! You can’t have done anything that bad.” Hermione shoved Ron out of he way and gasped as she saw Malfoy’s grotesque figure draped across the rug.
“ROOOONNAAALLLLLLDD WEEEEASSELLY!!!”
Let The Wind Shatter by LillysOfTheValley
Chapter Notes: I love you my dear Mgle_Teacher!