Punishing Malfoy
The days seemed to crawl as Gilderoy waited for the Deathday Party. It was quite an apt name for the day, actually, for Harry. While his friends looked forward to an exciting day of costumes, candy, and parties, the lad mourned the loss of his family.
Neither did Neville look forward to Halloween. The day itself wasn't an issue. Shortly thereafter, though, an attack on his parents had rendered them as good as dead, but without the closure that death brings. Instead, they were in the permanently disabled Spell Damaged ward at St. Mungos. He could see them, but they did not know him or his grandmother. It was a torment of a different sort than Harry knew, but it was a torment.
Halloween finally arrived, and for the first time he could remember, Harry/Gilderoy actually enjoyed himself! The food was good, he wasn't worried about his friends, he knew what was going to happen next. Everything was going according to plan.
And having to share his soul with Gilderoy halved the pain centred on his lack of family. And while seeing future Harry's dead friends alive was still a shock, sometimes, Gilderoy remembered his family and his childhood, and how much fun he had had on Halloween. And by allowing Gilderoy a bit more control, Harry discovered that Halloween could be fun. And so was flirting.
And everything did happen, just as it had last time. He had even managed to take the micky out of Snape by insisting that Professor Snape didn't need to waste his valuable time and that he could whip up the Mandrake Restorative Draught instead.
Snape had been ready to hex him by the time he relented and allowed as how Professor Snape probably could make the restorative as well as he could. Watching the git, robes billowing dramatically, as he stormed down the corridor later was quite gratifying. The only thing that could have added to his fun would be if he could dock the git House points.
His constant nattering in the background didn't endear him to the Headmaster or Mr. Filch, either. The Wizard Professors still considered him dodgy while the Witches still adored him and hung on his every word. Except Madams Pomfrey and Sprout — they still hadn't forgiven him for trying to tell them how to do their jobs.
.....
"Ten Points from Slytherin for such a derogatory comment, Mr. Malfoy." Lockhart appeared out of nowhere and stepped between the blond braggart and the redheaded idiot, smiling broadly. Ron was pointing his broken wand at the Slytherin. Malfoy, being Malfoy, just couldn't seem to avoid calling Hermione a mud-blood every time they met.
This time, though, a Professor who didn't believe in bullying in any form had caught him. Neither did that Professor believe in respecting those who had better connections and more political power than he did. Gilderoy was working to change his circumstances, though.
"You cannot remove points from me like that," said Malfoy, shocked at the sudden appearance of the Professor and point loss.
Lockhart arched an eyebrow artfully, a disbelieving expression on his face, "Twenty for questioning a teacher's authority." He put his left hand on his hip, stylishly sweeping his robes back.
"But I didn't do anything!" Malfoy protested.
"Thirty more for suggesting a professor can't see properly, and a detention." Good god, this was fun! And explained why Snape seemed to enjoy it so much. His normally expansive smile grew slightly larger at seeing Malfoy's face turn red.
Seeing the hated Weasley suppressing his laughter enraged Malfoy. He couldn't afford to lose face in front of his Slytherin classmates — his bookends Crabbe and Goyle were beside him, with Nott, Zabini, and Parkinson behind him watching. He continued to argue, "But Professor, that blood-traitor pulled his wand on me!"
"Forty points, Mr. Malfoy, for using yet another offensive term. And make it a week's detention instead of a day." Harry/Gilderoy shook his head sadly, as if reluctant to penalize a student so much.
"What!?" The child-Wizard was turning an interesting colour of red, somewhat reminiscent of a certain Muggle relative of Harry's.
The Dursleys! How could he have forgotten the Dursleys!
"Sixty points, Mr. Malfoy." If his smile were any broader it would touch his ears, just as the Cheshire cat's did.
The small group of Slytherins and Gryffindors in the corridor were staring, stunned. Ron had transitioned for trying to suppress his laughter to standing with his mouth open in amazement.
"You can't do this! When my father hears about this . . . !" Draco was almost yelling.
"Don't raise your voice to me, Mr. Malfoy! Eighty points, Mr. Malfoy. And two weeks detention. Do you want a month's?" Gilderoy said harshly, now frowning prettily — it had taken him weeks to get that particular expression correct, Witches tended to swoon when they saw it.
The Slytherins stopped further debate by Nott's expedient action of slapping his hand across the boy's mouth from behind. He whispered furiously at Crabbe and Goyle until they grabbed Draco's arms and the three started dragging him away. Pansy trailed in their wake casting confused glances between a struggling Draco and Professor Lockhart.
Blaise Zabini turned to the blond-haired professor, "I'm sorry, sir, I don't know what's wrong with Mr. Malfoy, but we'll get him straight to Madam Pomfrey." He was sweating.
The Professor, now with both hands on his hips, his hair swaying slightly as if in a breeze, and looking like a hero staring off into the sunset, stared as the other five disappeared into an alcove. "Yes, perhaps you should. And ten points each from you other five for failing to stop a fellow Slytherin from losing his mind like that.
"It is really quite unseemly," he continued smiling as if he were discussing his latest book, "that the supposedly cunning Slytherins are accosting other students like common Muggle street thugs." His lazy smile disappeared and suddenly he looked much scarier as he scowled. "Lord Slytherin would be so disappointed at the current crop of Slytherins being unable to build alliances outside their House, and antagonizing potential allies in such a crude fashion.
"If Pure-bloods truly are superior to Muggle-borns, then why is Miss Granger here at the top of her entire Second Year?" He waved his right hand elegantly at the stunned girl. "And by a rather wide margin, as well. And, of course, that doesn't explain why Misters Crabbe, Goyle, and Weasley, all Pure-bloods, are nearly at the bottom of the same Year's ranking. Based on that evidence, it would seem that it is the Pure-bloods that are inferior, wouldn't you say?" The remaining Slytherin was red-faced in embarrassment. "Please remind Mr. Malfoy of those pertinent facts when you next see him, as well as his total point loss. I think he might not have been paying attention." He pointed down the corridor with his chin while staring at the boy, obviously dismissing him.
Theodore nodded his head in respect at the Professor, smartly turned on his heel, and then followed his compatriots.
"Two hundred and ninety points," Hermione half whispered, her voice revealing her awed surprise. Harry, Ron, and Neville glanced at her, astonished, and then turned to their Professor.
The Gryffindor Wizards were staring at Lockhart as if they were about to fall to their knees and worship him — as they well should, Gilderoy's voice echoed in the back of Lockhart's mind. Gilderoy preened slightly at the looks of admiration they all had.
"'Cor," said Ron softly, "I never thought I'd see the day when Draco lost that many points. Fred or George have never managed to lose that many points all at once." He hadn't noticed Lockhart lumping him with the two Slytherins as the worst in their Year, too dumbfounded at seeing Draco so chastened.
The professor smiled at them genially, "Well, now that that's sorted, perhaps you should be on with what you were doing before Mr. Malfoy accosted you?"
He watched the four Gryffindors hurry on to tea, knowing that Draco's point loss would spread like a wild fire at supper tonight. The loss of prestige in his House would sting something fierce.
Gilderoy was quite content that the afternoon's project had worked so well. None had noticed the small hex he had cast on the Slytherin braggart when Gilderoy had first appeared and amplifying the boy's anger. Nor that he had cancelled it when Nott had acted.
Madam Pomfrey, nor anyone else, would find no evidence of his meddling. And the infuriated boy would predictably send off an owl missive to his parents after tea tonight. He expected to see Mr. Malfoy senior tomorrow afternoon. If things went to plan, he would be much richer by the weekend.
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