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November 1998
“I can’t look…,” Hermione Granger buried her head in her future father-in-law’s shoulder. She didn’t care if she was in the Governor’s box.
“Slytherin wins! Draco Malfoy pulls off an incredible last-second, no-hands manoeuvre to out-fly Harry Potter to the Snitch! Final score Slytherin 240, Gryffindor 220.”
The first Quidditch match at Hogwarts post-War was one to behold, not only because Slytherin won because Harry Potter lost the snitch to Draco Malfoy but also due to the two rival captains jovially sharing a post-match handshake and laugh—like old friends.
“That feint you pulled after Slytherin went up by 20 points late was both incredibly stupid and skilful, Potter,” Draco Malfoy praised his opposite number as the two Seekers left the pitch for the lockers.
“Oh please, like that barrel roll you did after Gryffindor scored first wasn’t idiotic or perhaps you were showboating for a certain curly-haired witch,” Harry ribbed playfully.
Draco smirked, “What can I say, for a person who doesn’t like flying, Hermione certainly loves Quidditch players.”
Harry rolled his eyes, then a large grin broke out across his face. “Do you think we scared her sufficiently?”
“More than sufficient. She had her face buried in Father’s shoulder.”
Harry laughed.
“I swear, she’s a total bitch now,” Ron Weasley ranted to Dean Thomas as the pair left the Quidditch pitch, “I mean, first, she snubs me for asking her out, then starts dating Malfoy, then snaps at me for asking to see her homework; getting me in trouble with Remus and now she’s openly associating with De—“
“Ron, you shouldn’t say things like that it could get you in trouble,” Dean warned.
“What, I’m just stating facts. There is no reason the likes of Malfoy should still be walking around, that entire family is full of—“
“I’m serious Ron, shut up.”
“Come on, Dean, I’m just saying what people are too afraid to say: that all the Malfoys deserve Azkaban.”
At this, Dean pulled Ron to the side, hard backing him up against a stone column, “Honestly Ron, you need to shut up because the Headmistress is right, you only have one more chance, one more misstep like at the Opening Feast and you’ll spend time in Azkaban. And in case you forgot, Malfoy—Draco—saved my life at the Manor, I will not hear of anyone telling me, he deserves Azkaban, that’s more than I can say about some people,” Dean hissed lowly and walked away.
“The fuck is his problem?” Ron spotted Harry and Malfoy walking toward the locker rooms together, laughing. He scowled.
“Good morning, class,” Professor Lupin said to the Seventh Year Basic DADA class on Monday.
“Morning,” the combined four House cohort said which only had seven students as the rest were taking Advanced N.E.W.T. DADA.
“Today we will have a practical lesson on defending yourself against a boggart—”
“Again?!” Ron Weasley shouted.
Lupin narrowed his eyes at the youngest Weasley son, “Five points from Gryffindor for interrupting,” Lupin cleared his throat and started again, “As I was saying, you’ll be defending yourself against a boggart, however, these boggarts will not go away with an immediate Riddikulus, you will have to duel your boggart first. And Mr Weasley since you seem to know my lesson plan before I announce it, you are up first.”
Ron huffed but did not say anything and took his place in front of the wardrobe preparing to face another Acromantula. However, when the wardrobe opened out stepped Hermione.
“Hello Weasley,” Boggart Hermione greeted with a smirk.
“Hermione?”
“That’s right numbskull, I’m your biggest fear. Funny isn’t it?” Boggart Hermione goaded.
The Boggart Hermione raised her wand and shot off a slicing hex to his wand arm, Ron immediately collapsed in pain clutching his cut up and bleeding wrist. The rest of the class and Lupin rolled their eyes at his lack of preparedness and duelling skill.
“Ahh! My wrist, you stupid mudblood bitch!” Ron screamed in pain.
The next thing the class saw was Ron Weasley enveloped in bright white light and gone leaving no trace.
“Where’d Weasley go?” Asked a Hufflepuff.
“I thought you couldn’t Disapparate from Hogwarts,” said a Ravenclaw.
“Ha, the ponce is scared of Granger,” a Slytherin laughed.
“So much for Gryffindor bravery, who in the hell is afraid of their own Housemate, and he wonders why the real me won’t date him,” Boggart Hermione mused.
Lupin sighed, “Class dismissed, I need to sort this with the Headmistress.” He banished the Boggart Hermione and ushered the class out of the classroom.
“Minerva, we have a problem,” Lupin addressed the Headmistress in her office.
“What is it this time, Remus?”
“Ron said the trigger word.”
“Oh heaven help me,” she mumbled, “Which trigger word?”
“Hermione’s.”
The DADA professor saw the Headmistress visibly blanch.
“Call the Weasleys, tell them to come immediately. I’ll contact the Malfoys and Lord Black, Miss Granger, and Mr Potter,” McGonagall ordered.
Ten minutes later, the Weasleys and Malfoys along with Hermione, Harry, and Remus were crowded in the Headmistress’ office.
“What’s happened, Minerva, Remus wouldn’t say except that it was important we all come immediately?” Molly Weasley asked.
Minerva sighed, “Ron Weasley has violated the terms of his suspended sentence.”
“What, how?” Arthur asked.
“In Defence class, we were doing a practical on duelling boggarts and instead of an Acromantula coming out of the wardrobe, like last time, a Boggart Hermione stepped out. The Boggart Hermione exchanged a few words then she hit with a slicing hex to his wand arm, he collapsed in pain then said Hermione’s trigger word and was transported,” Remus explained.
Gasps were heard all around, some were from shock others were from resignation.
“Where is he now?” Ginny asked, more out of curiosity than concern.
“Azkaban Prison.”
All the Weasleys recoiled at the revelation. All of the Malfoys including Hermione saw red. Harry simply stared into space, he had no defence for Ron Weasley anymore.
The room was silent for several minutes before Draco stood straight, fixed his Hogwarts uniform and cleared his throat and addressed the Weasley parents.
“Mr and Mrs Weasley, I would like to offer you assurances that your son will be released or given a lesser punishment, however, this is the final straw. I have done all I can to mitigate his stupidity, but calling my fiancée—the future Lady Malfoy and descendant of Hector Dagworth-Granger—a ‘mudblood’ even if it was a boggart and not actually her is unacceptable in our post-War world. I will push the Wizengamot for the toughest punishment, short of death,” Draco nodded to Molly, “I will have the Wizengamot vote on legal and total Obliviation. Since the War, he has done nothing but whine and complain, that puts the Wizarding world in danger. More so after his stunt in July. Especially considering that all the key players in the War are in this room. Had the War dragged on… your son’s actions post-War regardless of winning side would have put our existence in jeopardy. I hope you understand,” Draco turned to the Weasley siblings, “I’m sorry.”
“We understand, Lord Black,” Arthur said solemnly.
It spoke volumes, that despite being present for the meeting that neither the portraits of Albus Dumbledore or Severus Snape spoke up in defence of the youngest male Weasley.