"LUCY!"
The nine-year-old wobbled down the stairs into the entry hall and looked at her father.
"Yes?"
"Did you do this?" Draco asked. He didn't even bother gesturing toward the mess.
Lucy looked over the entry hall at the six dozen Pygmy Puffs littering the floor, tumbling around each other and squeaking wildly. She turned back to her father over the pink and purple sea of fluff, and said, "No."
Draco lifted a brow. "No?"
She shook her head, lifting a brow right back.
"How intriguing," Draco said, pacing through the Puffs. "Because I only just got home, and your mother would never allow such a disgusting display of fluff in her home." He stopped and looked at her. "So I would assume that the person who has been pestering me for a Puff to bring to Hogwarts would have conjured them."
"What an interesting conclusion," Lucy said flatly. "Well, since they're already here, I might as well keep them."