If Revenge Is a Cold Dish, Then… Is It Ice Cream? pt. 2
Draco rushed into his room, leaving Crabbe and Goyle behind as he slammed the door in their faces after warning them not to let anyone else in.
His face showed a barely contained emotion as he walked toward the desk beside his bed. He sat down carefully and, slowly, began removing the wax sealed with the Slytherin crest, freeing the parchment he had kept closed until now.
With a slight tremor in his hands, Draco opened it carefully. As the letters began to reveal themselves, they started to glow faintly, causing an even more excited smile to spread across his face.
His eyes moved quickly over the words. With every line he read, his excitement grew almost devouringly. Happiness was clearly reflected in his expression as his pride rose out of control, and little by little, malicious plans began to form in his mind.
"With this… with this I will finally make those damn arrogant and disgusting people end up outside the castle, and the mudbloods will not even dare to think about stepping on its grounds," he said, filled with pride.
"Do not worry, sir. I will complete your trials, I will become your heir, and I will cleanse your castle of all that filth," he added before quickly closing the parchment and carefully hiding it inside his robes.
…
Meanwhile, on Harry and Percy's side, both of them were sitting down for breakfast the next day, very early, considering that at that hour they would normally be doing some light training before coming to the Great Hall. Even so, as they ate, they kept throwing quick glances toward the Slytherin table.
Beside them was Hermione, who kept giving them disapproving looks, an attitude that both of them ignored with all their might.
At that moment, Draco entered the Great Hall, and almost immediately Harry and Percy went back to acting as if they were calmly eating their breakfast.
Draco noticed them at once. He shot them a malicious glance for a brief moment before locking eyes with Hermione, whom he looked at with obvious disgust, as if simply meeting her gaze could contaminate him.
Hermione's expression tightened immediately upon feeling that look. Draco, for his part, went to sit down arrogantly in his seat at the Slytherin table. For a brief moment, it almost seemed like Harry and Percy's revenge was not such a bad idea after all.
"So, what is the first task for our heir?" Percy asked Harry in a low voice, a playful smile on his face.
"A proper heir must keep the castle orderly and entirely noble, without a single speck of dirt, because that would mean its owner does not respect it," Harry replied in a solemn tone, holding back his laughter.
Percy laughed as well while imagining what that implied.
"Seriously, your first act of revenge is making Malfoy clean the castle?" Hermione asked, looking at them, feeling that it was not that big of a deal.
Harry and Percy looked at each other for a moment.
"Where have you ever seen a quest chain start with the first mission being easy?" Percy said, as if Hermione had said something obvious. That immediately annoyed her, especially because it was Percy who said it.
"Obviously, the tasks have to increase in difficulty, otherwise how could he be worthy of being the castle's owner?" Harry added quickly, explaining.
"You'd better make sure we do not lose points or get into trouble," Hermione said in a threatening tone.
…
In truth, it might have been the best idea the boys could have come up with to put Malfoy to work on stupid tasks all over the castle, since from then on they barely had to run into him or listen to his constant and irritating remarks. He was so busy mopping floors that he did not even remember to bother Neville, which was genuinely a good thing.
Thanks to that, they had time to focus on what actually interested them. Well, not exactly their business, but they were doing it anyway: spying on Grover.
A task that Percy insisted on doing himself, since Grover was his friend after all, and that for some reason ended up dragging Neville along as well.
At that moment, Grover was walking alongside Neville and Percy, feeling something strange about the two of them, who kept throwing odd looks his way. Their emotions seemed to fluctuate in strange ways.
"Is something wrong?" Grover asked for a moment, immediately making Neville nervous.
"No, nothing," Percy said at once. "We are just worried about Harry's match. Did you hear? Snape will be the referee, and you know how he is," he added, looking for a perfect excuse.
"Oh, right. He is not a very kind professor, although I am somewhat used to someone like that," Grover said as he nodded.
"Is that so? Hmm… you have not told us much about the United States. Would you mind telling us a few things?" Percy asked.
"Sure, I do not mind, but I do not think I can say much. I actually lived in the countryside for a long time," Grover replied immediately.
"A long time? We are only eleven years old. Well, thinking about it that way, if you lived there since you were born, I guess it really is a long time," Percy said in a playful tone.
"Oh, yeah," Grover replied, nervous for a brief moment.
"Why did you say you moved?" Percy asked.
"Oh… I did not say that. Um… my uncle got a job around here, so I came with him," Grover explained.
"Right, you are always talking about your uncle. And what does your uncle do?" Percy insisted.
"He…," Grover hesitated for a moment before answering. "He raises horses," he said quickly. "Centaurs," he added.
"Centaurs?" Percy wore a truly confused expression, though also an interested one. "Do centaurs get raised?" he asked.
"I think so," Grover replied.
Meanwhile, Neville watched them with a very confused look, blinking several times. Now he was just as bewildered as they were, and that was saying something, considering he had been born into a magical family and raised by his grandmother.
"And what does he raise them for?" Percy asked, now more interested in that point, losing sight of the original reason for his questions.
"Races?" Grover replied.
The three of them fell silent for a moment.
"That is… cool," Percy finally said.
Neville had to admit that he thought the same, even though he had never heard of centaur races before.
…
Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor common room, Harry was sitting beside Ron and Hermione, thinking about their plan to spy on Snape.
"Are you sure Percy can handle Grover on his own?" Ron asked.
Harry paused for a moment, thoughtful. "Well, Neville is with him, so I think he will be fine," he replied, though with a hint of doubt.
In truth, even though Harry wanted to help Percy, he did not really feel like going out. For some reason, he kept running into Snape everywhere. At times, he even felt as if the professor were following him.
Potions classes had turned into weekly torture for both him and Percy, because of the way Snape treated them.
It was almost as if Snape knew that they suspected him and that he wanted to steal the Philosopher's Stone. At one point, Harry even began to think that Snape might be able to read minds.
The next day, the match finally arrived. Harry received the comforting support of his friends and his brother, although calling it comforting might be too generous, since they mostly just wished that he would come back alive. Percy even said that he would avenge him instead of wishing him luck.
Because of that, Harry did not even hear what Wood was saying as he put on his Quidditch robes.
Just before heading out to the pitch, Wood pulled Harry aside for a moment and said:
"I do not want to pressure you, Potter, but if there is ever a time when we need you to catch the snitch as fast as possible, it is now. We need to finish the match before Snape has time to favor Hufflepuff."
"Wow, everyone is out there. Even… wow, Dumbledore," Fred said, leaning out slightly to look toward the stands.
"Dumbledore?" Harry repeated, now more nervous than ever, as he hurried toward the door to make sure.
And Fred was right. That silver beard was unmistakable. Still, upon seeing the headmaster, Harry relaxed a little, convinced that Snape would not dare do anything with Dumbledore present.
When they marched out onto the field, Harry felt genuinely calmer as he mounted his broom. From the stands, loud cheers echoed as soon as he appeared.
For a brief moment, he noticed some chaos in the section where Hermione and the others should have been, but he was far more focused on ending the match quickly than on whatever was happening there.
The match began, and before much had even happened, Snape awarded a penalty to Hufflepuff, claiming that George Weasley had launched a bludger in his direction.
Harry, without slowing down, continued flying through the skies when he heard Snape's whistle again, granting yet another penalty to Hufflepuff for no clear reason. Harry's expression grew increasingly serious and focused as he scanned the field quickly.
Then, in an instant, he spotted the golden glint of the snitch near the stands.
Without stopping, he dove straight down; the wind slammed against his face with force. Not even the vertigo of the dive seemed to affect him, his focus locked entirely on that golden point that was the snitch.
The Hufflepuff Seeker either did not notice it or noticed far too late. When he tried to react, Harry had already stopped in midair, right in front of the stands, the snitch firmly caught in his hand.
With a slightly confused expression, he looked toward the spot where Hermione was shouting excitedly in support.
"You did amazing, Harry!" she yelled, standing on her seat and jumping up and down with excitement.
Behind her, Percy was on top of Malfoy, slapping him repeatedly. Neville was clinging to Crabbe's back while Crabbe spun around clumsily, trying to shake him off. Ron had grabbed Goyle's leg, causing him to crash to the ground with a loud thud as he tried to rush to Malfoy's aid. Grover, meanwhile, was trying to stop the fight peacefully, without much success.
The stands seemed to completely ignore the chaos, cheering wildly at what had just happened, since it was a new record.
Harry slowly drifted away from the stands, pretending not to have seen anything, and flew back to show the snitch to Snape, who surely would not accept the result without seeing it up close.
Just then, a red quaffle flew past Snape's head, barely missing him and making his expression twist with obvious fury. Still, upon seeing the snitch in Harry's hand, he had no choice but to end the match.
And while Snape could do nothing to stop it, Harry could not have been happier, especially as he saw the professor's face, forced to accept it.