Warning

Hopping off his bed, he went to close the door behind him, catching Marcus Flint's eye down the hall as he did. The older boy looked very amused.

"Let me know if you need help hiding the body," the older boy called cheerfully down the hall.

He raised an eyebrow as he shoved the door shut. Then, looking down at Malfoy, he sighed.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

After levitating the boy onto his own bed, Harry turned around to stare at him indecisively for a few moments.

He sighed again.

"Stay put. I still need some time to calm down."

And with that, he walked back over to his bed, picking up A Structural Analysis of Magical Contracts as he sat down, and re-finding his place in Chapter 6.

Chapter 6: Circumventing Contracts

It is possible, in some cases, to circumvent the terms of a magical contract. This could be called, in layman's terms, the 'art of manipulating loopholes'. In this section we will discuss the definition of a point of circumvention, the difference between limitations in scope and ambiguity, and methods for locating, exploiting, and repairing points of circumvention.

Points of Circumvention

There are two angles from which we will consider the concept of a point of circumvention; linguistics and spell-crafting.

When constructing a magical contract, grammatical and etymological precision are of the utmost importance. Even the subtlest of adjustments can dramatically change the nature of a contract. This fact demands that we choose our tools carefully. For instance, certain contracts are by necessity constructed in Latin, owing the the precise nature of the language's grammatical structure, while others are actually better served by more grammatically ambiguous English incantations...

It was about 2 hours later when Harry finally closed his book. He looked over at Malfoy.

"Sorry about the wait," he said as he stood up, and walked to the other's bed, sitting down beside him with a pensive look on his face.

"Actually, I'm not sorry at all. You don't deserve an apology from me, not this time." He stared into Malfoy's grey eyes, looking for traces of fear or anger. They were there, much to his (only barely guilty) satisfaction.

"I was pretty angry earlier, to be honest," Harry said slowly, "In retrospect, though, it's good I had the chance to cool off before talking to you. Hermione insists that I don't hurt you. You owe a lot to her, you know...including an apology, which I fully expect you to deliver with the utmost sincerity. If you don't...well, what Hermione doesn't know won't hurt her.

"I'm going to be honest with you - I don't want to be angry with you, Malfoy. I don't like the way things are between us, and despite the fact that you're an immature, selfish prat, I would have liked to have been your friend. Friends are a valuable commodity, after all. Is it too late for that? I really don't know. I'm still kind of new to all this...

"When we met...I lied to you, I know. I just...didn't want people to know who I was just yet. I wanted get my first look at Hogwarts as just some first year – not as the famous Boy Who Lived. I didn't grow up famous, you see. I...wasn't sure how to deal with it. So I lied. It was the simplest choice, at the time. It wasn't disrespect. I just didn't trust you and Ron to treat me like a regular Hogwarts student if you knew who I was. It wasn't complicated, I just didn't trust you...and in the end, you proved me right. You proved that I couldn't trust you to be patient and thoughtful. You were petty and cruel, Malfoy. I don't like you. But I never wanted to hurt you.

"Last Halloween was...an accident. I'd nearly been killed by a troll, and had had a...frustrating discussion with Madame Pomfrey, and I took out my frustration on you. That was wrong of me. That's why I fixed your leg and apologized. Because I was wrong.

"But this time...I want to hurt you. I want to see you suffer for what you said to Hermione. She's my friend, you see. I think she's brilliant, and...I care about her. She deserves respect and kindness, not the disdain and cruelty you showed her. You lot...you, Parkinson, Zabini...you call her a mudblood all the time, and I'm not going to go around telling you how to speak. That's not my right or my responsibility. It is my responsibility to make sure she's treated with respect, though. She's my friend, and I can't have people calling her terrible things to her face, right in front of me. I can't watch her be hurt and do nothing.

"That's why I'm giving you a warning. I'm not going to do anything, this time, because...well, because I'm a pretty decent person, I'd say." Well, compared to Malfoy, anyway. "And like I said, Hermione practically begged me not to do anything – begged me, Malfoy. Because I respect her, I'm listening, this time...but if you speak to her like that again...well, like I said, what she doesn't know won't hurt her...and you've seen my copy of Magic Moste Evile. I trust you're smart enough to know that it's not just for decoration. I'll curse you, Malfoy. It won't leave a mark, but it will hurt, I can promise you that. So...don't hurt my friends. Hermione and Theo...I care about them. Even Ron, Fred, George, Terry, and Michael...they're off limits. I really hope you understand. Because if you don't...well, that will be very unfortunate for you indeed."

He looked Malfoy in the eye.

"I really don't like hurting people."

He stood up, and pointed his wand at Malfoy. "Finite."

Malfoy gasped, but didn't move; he stared at him, still frozen.

"The Halloween Feast will have already started...a while ago, actually...we should get going."

Malfoy nodded mutely, and followed him cautiously out of the room.

Malfoy was silent beside him as they walked to the Halloween feast. Harry didn't blame him – he didn't think he'd have much to say were he in the other boy's position either. Harry didn't really know what to say either, so he kept quiet as well; suffice it to say he was looking forward to the Halloween feast – Theo would be there to sweep all the awkwardness under the proverbial rug, as usual.

Yes, the feast would be good. Parkinson would snap at them for being late, Bulstrode will look at them with concern, and Davis would ask questions – Zabini would pretend not to care, but subtly ask about it later, and Daphne...she'd make one of those faces Harry didn't understand.

Hortense would look at him with a raised eyebrow, rather pointedly, Flint would crack a joke and would be hit over the head by Rosier; Higgs would try to talk about Quidditch, but would be ultimately ignored in favour of everyone's favourite gossip topic – Harry himself. Theo would stick up for him, shooing away the questions and putting down criticisms. Meanwhile, he'd sit there quietly, awkwardly, enjoying every moment of it.

He smiled, caught up in the hypothetical scenario his mind had cooked up...but then he heard it.

"...rip...tear...kill..."

It was a cold, thin voice, a sinister hiss. He started, stumbling to a halt and then looking around. No one was there.

"...rip...tear...kill..."

The walls, he realized, it was coming from the walls. Running over to the side of the passageway they were in, he pressed his ear to the clammy stone wall.

"P-Potter, what're you –?"