Chapter Text
Draco Malfoy sat slouched in the back of Muggle Studies.
He loathed this class.
Loathed.
The only thing worse than sitting through lessons about lightbulbs and non-magical transport was having to write essays pretending to respect “the ingenuity of Muggle plumbing.”
When they’d had a pop quiz last week, Draco had…made some choices. Now Professor Burbage stood at the front of the room with a stack of graded papers and a vaguely haunted look.
She cleared her throat.
“Class, I’ve finished marking your plague quizzes. Some answers were thoughtful. Some were less so.”
Her eyes landed on Draco.
“Mr. Malfoy.”
Draco didn’t even flinch.
“Yes, Professor?”
She raised a single eyebrow. “Is this a joke?”
Draco let out a dramatic sigh.
“Only if you laugh, Professor.”
Burbage adjusted her glasses and read aloud:
“Question One: What was the primary cause of the Black Plague in 1348? Your answer: ‘Potter.’”
The class was already stifling giggles, however, Burbage did not look amused.
“Question Two: How was the disease spread? Your answer: ‘Potter’s constant need for attention.’”
Ron burst out laughing.
“He’s not wrong.”
“Oi!” Harry protested, though he was already sinking lower in his chair.
Hermione facepalmed so hard it echoed.
Burbage continued on. “Question Three: What were the effects of the plague on European society? Your answer? ‘Potter.’ No explanation. No context.”
Dean was actually wheezing now.
Neville whispered, “Ten galleons says he answered the next one with ‘Potter’s hair.’”
“Question Four: What animals were thought to carry the disease? Your answer: ‘Potter...and Weasley.’”
"Hey!" Ron then straightened up. "How did I get dragged into this?"
Burbage went further into the rest of the quiz. "Question Five: How did the disease spread? Your answer: Potter licked doorknobs."
The class had completely lost it now.
Lavender was borderline hysterical, Seamus had fallen off his chair, and even Parvati was clutching her stomach. Professor Burbage, however, did not crack.
“Mr. Malfoy,” she said, voice like ice. “Do you truly believe that licking doorknobs is how the Black Plague spread?”
“Well, Potter had to be licking something, Professor." Draco shrugged, feigning innocence. "Plagues don’t just happen.”
Professor Burbage pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like “underpaid" as she shuffled to the last question.
“And finally,” she grimly stated, “Question Six: What methods were eventually used to control the spread of the plague?”
A hush fell. Even the laughter paused. Everyone leaned in as Burbage lifted the parchment and read,
“Your answer: ‘Exile Potter. Burn his robes. Salt the earth.’”
Dead silence...
...then, chaos.
Ron nearly choked, Hermione made a noise like a dying owl, and Harry just buried his face in his arms and waved off the world.
Professor Burbage calmly lowered the paper, set it down, and looked at Draco with weary eyes.
“Are you actually saying that you believe Harry Potter caused the Black Plague?”
“I’m saying it’s not been definitively disproven. Can you prove he didn’t?”
Hermione made a strangled noise that sounded like “WHAT!”
Harry dropped his quill.
“Malfoy, I wasn’t even born!”
Draco raised an eyebrow. “Doom transcends time!"
"Oh, Merlin," Neville gasped, "he’s weaponizing history.”
Dean whispered to Seamus, “This is better than the wizard soap opera my gran watches.”
Professor Burbage looked like she might evaporate on the spot.
“Mr. Malfoy, please explain to me how you believe Mr. Potter is linked to a 14th-century European plague.”
“Well,” Draco leaned back smugly, holding up fingers. “One: It was a mysterious catastrophe. Two: It caused widespread panic. Three: Nobody could really stop it. Sound familiar?”
He turned and dramatically pointed at Harry.
“Four: He has a history of attracting chaos. He sneezes, and elves riot. He walks into a room, and dementors show up. I’m just connecting the dots.”
“I have literally done nothing wrong today," Harry sputtered.
“And that’s suspicious in itself.”
Pansy nodded solemnly. “He has a point.”
“HE DOES NOT HAVE A POINT!” Hermione snapped.
"YES I DO!" Draco yelled back.
Professor Burbage inhaled deeply through her nose, like she was trying to absorb all the oxygen in the room before her soul gave up.
“Mr. Malfoy,” she slowly said, “are you suggesting that Mr. Potter is some kind of immortal, time-traveling harbinger of plague?”
“Good, someone’s listening." Draco nodded. "Everyone else, open your eyes! Every year he’s involved in something catastrophic! Giant snakes? Potter! Dementors? Potter! Triwizard Tournament? Potter! Crazed dark arts teachers every year? Potter!”
Draco then jumped to his feet and pointed at Harry.
"Doom! DOOM! DOOOOMMMM!"
Harry stared at Draco like he was witnessing a slow-motion broom crash. He had no words for a good twenty seconds.
“Are you having a stroke?” He finally asked.
Draco looked personally offended.
“That’s rich coming from the Plaguebringer of Hogwarts.”
Harry turned to the rest of the class, hoping that everyone else hadn't woken up mad today. “Does anyone else hear this lunacy?!”
Ron helpfully raised a hand.
“To be fair, mate, you do have suspicious timing.”
Harry whipped around.
“You were with me during the snake thing!”
“Yeah, and look how that turned out," Ron shrugged.
Hermione stood up, eyes blazing.
“This is absurd! You’re all just enabling Malfoy!”
Suddenly, as if suddenly overcome by the moment, Draco then called out,
"It has to be stopped, before Potter can spread his doom any further!" Draco then lunged over and snatched a mug of coffee off of Burbage's desk, dipping his fingers into it and began flicking it on Harry. Harry didn’t move for a moment. He was slouched over his desk, cheek mashed against the wood, when he felt the first splash of lukewarm coffee hit his hair.
He blinked.
Then came another splash.
Then a third.
He slowly looked up...
...to find Malfoy standing over him, dramatically brandishing a half-empty lukewarm coffee mug from Professor Burbage’ desk and flinging coffee at him with the wild-eyed fervor of a second-rate exorcist.
“THE POWER OF MERLIN COMPELS YOU!” Draco cried, flicking more coffee. “THE POWER OF MERLIN COMPELS YOU! BACK TO THE UNDERWORLD, UNCLEAN SPIRIT!"
The class exploded.
Seamus screamed, Lavender shrieked, while Dean actually fell out of his chair again, gasping, “WHAT IS HAPPENING!”
Neville ducked behind a desk like there might be real holy water flying.
"Draco, THAT'S MY COFFEE!" Burbage yelled.
“Muggle holy water!” Draco called back, now full-on sloshing it in arcs. “EXPEL THE CURSE! CLEANSE THE POTTER!”
“STOP!" Harry yelled, putting a piece of parchment up to try to block the assault. "STOP THROWING COFFEE AT ME!”
Professor Burbage did not stop Malfoy. She stood there, utterly still, eyes glazed over, soul clearly detaching from her body. She whispered something like, “This is why they don’t pay me enough to buy wine.”
“Malfoy!" Hermione leapt forward. "That’s a hazard! You can’t just-”
“BLASPHEMY!” Draco shrieked, and poured the last of the coffee directly over Harry’s head. “IN MERLIN'S NAME, HE COMMANDS YOU!" Draco then slapped a hand dramatically to Harry’s forehead, the way fake Muggle preachers did in those weird daytime television channels people watched when they were bored. "REMOVE YOUR DOOM FROM HOGWARTS!" Harry reached up and tried to pull Draco's hand off, but Draco latched on harder. "REMOVE YOUR DOOM!" He demanded once more. "I CAST YOU OUT!"
Harry flailed, still desperately trying to pry Draco’s hand off his forehead.
“GET OFF ME, YOU LUNATIC!”
“I will not allow the Plaguebringer to silence me!” Draco howled, now balancing one foot on the desk like some unholy motivational speaker. “THE STUDENTS WILL BE FREED FROM THIS EVIL!"
“You’re assaulting me with beverage!” Harry sputtered. "Why is no one stopping this!?"
"I can't," Ron wheezed after collapsing onto the floor, "I physically can't."
Draco whipped around to face the rest of the class.
“YOU SEE?! Potter resists the purification! Classic dark entity behavior!”
“I’m going to throw you out a window,” Harry snapped, shoving him back.
“I’M BEING PERSECUTED!” Draco wailed, arms flailing as he dramatically stumbled off the desk like he’d just been struck by divine lightning. “HE’S TRYING TO SILENCE THE TRUTH!”
Professor Burbage slowly sat down at her desk without breaking eye contact with the wall. She opened her bottom drawer, pulled out a small bottle of something suspiciously potion-colored, and took a long, slow sip.
Ron slowly got back to his feet and looked towards Hermione. “Is that Firewhiskey?”
“I hope it’s arsenic,” Hermione growled.
Lavender, coughing with laughter, raised a shaky hand.
“Should…should someone stop him?”
“From what?” Seamus cried, tears running down his face. “From saving us all?! This is history, Lavender.”
Dean nodded.
“We’re witnessing the Second Coffee Reformation.”
Pansy clapped enthusiastically. “Tell them, Draco! Cleanse Hogwarts!”
Harry was standing now, his entire front dripping with coffee.
“That’s it, I’m done! I’m dropping out. I’ll move to the woods. No one can accuse you of causing the plague if you live with squirrels!”
Now, Hermione looked like she might flip it over and walk into the Forbidden Forest forever.
“This is madness! This is academic misconduct! This is, this is deranged religious improvisational theatre!”
Draco turned toward her, eyes glinting.
“Finally, someone sees the vision!”
Hermione screamed into her hands. Professor Burbage stared at the bottle in her hand like she was considering whether to chug it or pour it in her eyes. Draco still wasn’t done. He now had Harry cornered behind the desk, flinging wild handfuls of chalk dust like sacred ash.
“LEAVE THIS PLANE OF EXISTENCE, O CURSED ONE!”
“STOP THROWING STUFF AT ME!” Harry roared, coughing on the chalk. “I’M NOT CURSED, I JUST HAVE BAD LUCK!"
“I hear denial!” Draco shrieked. “That’s stage one of doom acceptance!”
“THIS ISN’T THE FIVE STAGES OF BEING A DEMON!” Harry bellowed, dodging another puff of chalk. Blaise Zabini, who was usually very reserved was openly crying with laughter, while Parvati held up her wand like she might actually cast a Bubble-Head Charm to avoid inhaling more of the airborne holy dust.
Pansy tossed a desk flag at Harry.
“Begone, evil!”
Ron leaned over to Hermione, “We should’ve had History of Magic like normal.”
“We do have History of Magic,” Hermione snapped. “It just doesn’t normally involve an exorcism with office supplies!”
Just then, Draco raised both hands dramatically. “WE NEED A SACRIFICE!”
Everyone froze.
"I'm sorry...what?" Dean asked.
“A SYMBOLIC ONE!” Draco clarified. “Something to appease the forces of anti-doom!”
Ron immediately stood up, grabbed a stale chocolate frog from his bag, and threw it onto the floor like it was being offered to an ancient god. “Take this! It’s been in there since first year!”
“A noble gift.”
Harry had sunk to the floor, curled around his bag like it might save him. “Why is this happening to me?”
“It’s okay, Harry." Lavender gently patted his bac. "Some of the greatest prophets were misunderstood.”
“I AM NOT A PROPHET-”
“-OF DOOM,” Draco finished the sentence for him. “Exactly! Just like the prophecies foretold!”
Professor Burbage stood up.
The room went silent once more.
She looked around, took a breath, and said:
“Class is dismissed.”
There was a beat of quiet.
Then Draco threw both hands in the air.
“AND LO, THE BEAST IS BANISHED!”
Everyone erupted in cheers. Harry stood up, face full of chalk, sugar packets stuck to his robes, and coffee streaked through his hair. He turned to Burbage. “You’re letting him get away with this?”
Professor Burbage didn’t blink.
“If I acknowledge any of what just happened, I’ll need to file a report. If I file a report, I’ll need to explain why I didn’t stop it. If I explain that, I’ll need to talk to parents. I would rather be cursed.”
She turned and walked straight out of the room.
Draco leaned into Harry’s space one last time, whispering, “You feel cleansed yet?”
Harry stared at him.
Then he said, very calmly, “I'm going to feed you to the squid.”
“Spoken like someone free of plague," Draco beamed.
Harry, still dripping coffee and clutching dignity by a thread, stormed out of the class and down the corridor like a man with a purpose.
That purpose? Revenge.
Students cleared a path as he passed. Some gasped, others whispered. One Hufflepuff politely offered a napkin, which he accepted with the silent rage of a thousand betrayed friendships.
Ron jogged beside him.
“Look, mate-”
“Don’t,” Harry snapped, wiping chalk out of his eyebrow. “Don’t you dare.”
“I was just going to say, technically, you do look less cursed. Bit...caffeine-y, maybe.”
“I will end you.”
Hermione caught up, panting.
“This school is a circus. I am transferring to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang. I don’t care. I will learn French, I will learn Swedish. I'll fight a troll to get out of this nuthouse.”
Behind them, from somewhere down the corridor, came Draco’s triumphant voice,
“HE STILL WALKS AMONG US, BUT HE IS CLEANSED!”
“Should we be worried he’s started a cult?” Ron whispered.
Hermione didn’t answer. She was busy writing transfer applications on the back of a chocolate frog wrapper. They reached Gryffindor Tower and The Fat Lady blinked at Harry, taking in the stains, the sugar crusted to his shirt, and the faint smell of roasted bitterness.
“Password?” She gently asked.
Harry just looked at her. She took pity.
“Oh, just go in.”
He stomped into the common room causing every head to turn.
Dean, already there somehow, immediately yelled, “BEHOLD, THE UNDOOMED!”
“GET OUT!” Harry growled, dropping his bag like a dead weight.
Ginny wandered over. “So...I heard you were exorcised.”
Harry stared at her.
“I mean, only partially,” she added. “It was more like...decaf baptism.”
“I hate Malfoy."
Neville peeked in through the portrait hole.
“Hey, er, Draco’s handing out pamphlets. Something about how to identify signs of doom in your friends.”
Harry groaned. Hermione flopped onto the couch.
“We’re all going to fail our N.E.W.T.s because your nemesis had a dramatic flair and access to hot beverages.”
Ron dumped himself beside her.
“Honestly, kind of worth it.”
Harry slumped in a chair, defeated.
Just then, Hedwig swooped in with a scroll tied to her leg. Harry opened it.
It was from Professor Burbage.
Dear Mr. Potter,
Please be advised that you are now excused from future Muggle Studies pop quizzes.
Also, please inform Mr. Malfoy that if he attempts to pour a beverage over someone during class again, he will be exiled to the janitorial dimension.
Yours in resignation,
Professor C. Burbage.
Ron peeked over his shoulder.
“Janitorial dimension? Sounds intense.”
“Good," Hermione snorted. "He belongs there.”
Harry crumpled the letter and muttered, “I’m going to find a Pensieve and erase this day from my soul.”
But deep in the Slytherin common room, Draco was already drawing battle plans.
Operation: Eternal Cleansing.
Next time, they cleanse Dumbledore.
Somewhere, far beneath the castle the giant squid sensed trouble...and quietly swam the other way.