War

8.

"You put it out." He muttered before walking away. "AND THIS IS MINE Elphaba Thropp!"

"Who the hell is Elphaba Thropp!?"

"The Wicked Witch Of The West!"

I deadpanned.

"LISTEN HERE YOU INBRED MUTT-"
I took a deep breath.

I don't even know who that fucking is!?!

Merlin's beard. They really think I'm Albus Dumbledore.

I exhaled after counting to five.

1.

2.

3.

4.

5.

"Harry."

"Mm?"

"Cook breakfast, please."

"Mmkay." He pulled away from me with a yawn.

"And where on Earth are your glasses?"

"Draco broke them last night."

Draco choked on a sip of coffee before looking away shyly.

"How did you-"

A memory filled my mind and I- Tom Marvolo Riddle... Junior, the darkest lord of all time... The...lord Voldemort- screamed.

"NO. STOP THINKING ABOUT IT. RIGHT NOW!"

They both cowered as my magic made the room glow an eerie green.

With a wave of my wand a new pair of glasses was on his face.

"Thank you."

"Teenagers." I hissed before retreating to the living room.

I refocused on Sirius who was currently watching tv.

"Why are you watching that muggle box."

"It's a TV old man."

"I'm only 70. That isn't an impossible age, you embryo."

"Still old."

"I'm immortal. It doesn't matter if I'm old."

"Touché."

"Why are you watching that muggle on the screen?"

He looked up at me. "Because muggles are brilliant creatures that can predict weather."

"We have magic. We can control weather."

"It's more exciting when you let the heavens decide."

"Ok. Weasley."

"Arthur is a brilliant man. I'm not offended."

"Oh?"

"I'm nothing like you or your stupid followers."

"You really think Albus is a godsend don't you."

"Did I ever mention Albus?"

"I'm the face of my union. Who's the face of yours?"

"..."

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

"Ok. Ok." He put his mug down on the coffee table. "Tell me. What's so horrific about Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore?"

"What's so horrific?"

"Yeah. I mean. Sure I've got my concerns, but what makes you hate him so much?"