People Watching.

Chapter Eighteen.

"There you are," Draco drawled, looking at Ron and Harry. "Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall all this time? I've been looking for you; I want to show you something really funny."
Malfoy glanced witheringly at Percy.
"And what're you doing down here, Weasley?" he sneered.

Percy looked outraged.
"You want to show a bit more respect to a school prefect!" he said. "I don't like your attitude!"

Malfoy sneered and motioned for Harry and Ron to follow him. Harry almost said something apologetic to Percy, but caught himself just in time. He and Ron hurried after Malfoy, who said as they turned into the next passage, "That Peter Weasley—"

"Percy," Ron corrected him automatically.

"Whatever," said Malfoy. "I've noticed him sneaking around a lot lately. And I bet I know what he's up to. He thinks he's going to catch Slytherin's heir single-handedly."
He gave a short, derisive laugh. Harry and Ron exchanged excited looks.
Malfoy paused by a stretch of bare, damp stone wall.
"What's the password again?" he said to Harry.

"Er—" said Harry.

"Oh, yeah— pure-blood!" said Malfoy, not listening, and a stone door concealed in the wall slid open. Malfoy marched through it, and Harry and Ron followed him.
The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on the chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and several Slytherins were silhouetted around it in high-backed chairs.
"Wait here," said Malfoy to Harry and Ron, motioning them to a pair of empty chairs set back from the fire. "I'll go and get it— my father's just sent it to me—"
Wondering what Malfoy was going to show them, Harry and Ron sat down, doing their best to look at home.
Malfoy came back a minute later, holding what looked like a newspaper clipping. He thrust it under Ron's nose.
"That'll give you a laugh," he said.
Harry saw Ron's widen in shock. He read the clipping quickly, gave a very forced laugh, and handed it to Harry. 
It had been clipped out of the Daily Prophet, and it said:

Inquiry at the Ministry of Magic
Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Ar-
tifacts Occife, was today fined fifty Galleons for be-
witching a Muggle car.
Mr. Lucius Malfoy, a governor of Hogwarts
School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where the
enchanted car crashed earlier this year, called today
for Mr. Weasley's resignation.
"Weasley has brought the Ministry into disre-
pute," Mr. Malfoy told our reporter. "He is clearly
unfit to draw up our laws and his ridiculous Mug-
gle Protection Act should be scrapped immedi-
ately.
Mr. Weasley was unavailable for comment, al-
though his wife told reports to clear off or she'd
set the family ghoul on them.

"Well?" said Malfoy impatiently as Harry handed the clipping back to him. "Don't you think it's funny?"

"Ha, ha," said Harry bleakly.

"Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should snap his wand in half and go and join them," said Malfoy scornfully. "You'd never know the Weasleys were purebloods, the way they behave."
Ron's— or rather, Crabbe's— face was contorted with fury.
"What's up with you, Crabbe?" snapped Malfoy.

"Stomachache," Ron grunted.

"Well, go up to the hospital wing and give all those Mudbloods a kick from me," said Malfoy, snickering. "You know, I'm surprised the Daily Prophet hasn't reported all these attacks yet," he went on thoughtfully. "I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up. He'll be sacked if it doesn't stop soon. Father's always said old Dumbledore's the worst thing that's ever happened to this place. He loves Muggle-borns. A decent headmaster would never've let slime like that Creevey in."
Malfoy started taking pictures with an imaginary camera and did a cruel but accurate impression of Colin: "'Potter, can I have your picture, Potter? Can I have your autograph? Can I lick your shoes, please, Potter?'"
He dropped his hands and looked at Harry and Ron.
"What's the matter with you two?"
Far too late, Harry and Ron forced themselves to laugh, but Malfoy seemed satisfied; perhaps Crabbe and Goyle were always slow on the uptake.
"Saint Potter, the Mudbloods' friend," said Malfoy slowly. "He's another one with proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around with that jumped-up Granger Mudblood. And people think he's Slytherin's heir!"
Harry and Ron waited with bated breath: Malfoy was surely seconds away from telling them it was him— but then—