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Percy nodded slightly to Fleur. Time to go. They both got up from the Hufflepuff table and started walking slowly over to the Slytherin table. The whole hall watched them go. Conversations stopped mid-word.
Forks paused halfway to mouths.
A heavy quiet fell over the room, thick with waiting. The two champions stopped right before Draco Malfoy and his two big, dumb-looking bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle. They looked down at the three Slytherins sitting there.
Draco looked up and snorted, a nasty sound. "What do you want, oh great champions?" he sneered, spitting out the title like it tasted bad.
"I just wanted to know one thing, Draco," Percy spoke up, his voice calm, almost too calm. "Why do you bother us so much? Like, why do you even care what our parents were, what our heritage is?"
"Because we are the true practicers of magic," Draco spat out, puffing up his chest like a small, angry pigeon. "People with proper wizard families! It's an embarrassment they even let a half-breed Veela and a half-blood nobody like you two compete in the tournament. You two don't deserve the title of champion."
Percy narrowed his eyes just a little. "And you think you do?"
Draco snorted again, louder this time. "Of course I do! My family is pure-blood, ancient!"
Fleur smiled then, a small, sharp smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Tell me zomething, Malfoy," she said, her voice dangerously sweet. "You Engliz' wizards 'ave a special inzult for muggleborns, yez? What iz it?"
"Why should I tell you anything, you French tart?" Draco sneered back at her, trying to get a reaction.
He saw Professor Snape starting to walk towards their table from the staff table, his black robes billowing.
Good, Malfoy thought. He wanted Percy angry, wanted him to do something stupid so Snape would see it and get them both in huge trouble.
But to his surprise, Percy didn't react at all. He just kept looking calm, maybe even a little amused. He smiled faintly. "The lady asked you a question, Malfoy. You should answer."
"She isn't a lady," Draco said, leaning forward with a creepy smile, trying to provoke Percy more. "She's just a beast pretending to be human, hiding in pretty skin." He glanced at Snape getting closer, then lowered his voice to a loud whisper, meant for Percy and Fleur but loud enough for nearby Slytherins to hear.
"And for your information, we call them by what they truly are," he hissed, savoring the ugly word, "a mudblood."
Percy just nodded slowly, like he was considering this information carefully. "I see, I see. Well, I suppose you might think they deserve such a harsh title. But we don't think so. In fact," Percy's voice took on a slightly cheerful tone, "we think youdeserve to be called something special too. Isn't that right, honey?" He glanced at Fleur.
Fleur nodded, her sharp smile widening just a fraction. "Yez," she agreed smoothly. "In your language, a person like you, from a family zat keeps marrying its own couzinz over and over, uzing t'e zame old blood again and again... eet iz like being 'inbred', no? Like a dog eating its own feces becauze of some perverze interezt to eat w'at waz once inzide it." Her words were quiet but cut like glass.
"So," Percy continued brightly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small, folded piece of parchment, "we decided we would call you a 'shit blood' instead. And," he held up the note, "in order to make that new title all the more true..."
He calmly placed the note down on the table right in front of Draco. Then, Percy and Fleur turned around and walked away, back towards the Hufflepuff table, without another word.
The blonde Slytherin looked confused for a second, staring at the note. Then, curious, he picked it up. Crabbe and Goyle leaned in close, looking over his shoulder with their piggy eyes, reading it too. The note said, in neat handwriting:
We put Hippogriff shit in your pie. The big slices you, Crabbe, and Goyle enjoyed so much? Filled with it. Hope you enjoyed the special treat. Eat shit, Malfoy.
P.S. It was Fleur's idea.
Draco's face, usually pale, turned a sickly shade of green that almost perfectly matched his Slytherin robes. His eyes bulged wide with horror and disgust. Suddenly, he gagged loud.
Then, all three of them Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle lurched forward, falling off the bench onto the floor. Loud retching sounds filled the suddenly silent hall as they started vomiting their entire dinner out, violently sick right there on the stone floor.
Everyone gasped in shock and disgust. Students near them jumped back quickly, trying to avoid the mess. Snape finally reached them, his face a mask of fury, trying to help his students while glaring daggers at Percy and Fleur who were now sitting calmly back at their table.
Snape quickly waved his wand over the sick boys, checking for magic. He detected nothing. No sign of a potion, no trace of a jinx or curse. Nothing magical seemed to be wrong with them, other than the obvious fact they were puking their guts out.
He spotted the note Percy had left behind, still clutched in Draco's sweaty hand. Snape went to grab it, wanting evidence.
But just then, Percy, sitting calmly across the hall, snapped his fingers loud.
On the back of the note, hidden runes he had quickly drawn earlier glowed bright orange for a split second, then the parchment instantly burst into harmless flames, turning into fine grey ashes right before Snape could read a single word.
Percy and Fleur sat side-by-side at the Hufflepuff table, watching the chaos at the Slytherin table unfold. They both wore matching, slightly devilish smiles.
They knew they were probably going to get called into the Headmaster's office for this, sure. But they had their story straight. No magic involved, just words and a note that no longer existed.
The rest of the hall turned from the disgusting scene to look back at the two champions. Seeing their perfectly calm, matching, wicked smiles sent a cold shiver down many students' backs.
And right then and there, everyone in that hall learned a very important lesson: you did not mess with the angry Veela and the quiet American champion. It just wasn't worth it.
….
Later that night, in the Headmaster's big, round office:-
"Like I told you already, maybe a hundred times, Professor," Percy said with a calm shrug, sitting in a chair opposite the Headmaster's desk, "we didn't do anything of the sort. We just walked over, told Malfoy 'you're a horrible person, Draco,' maybe used a few mean words, and then we left." Fleur, sitting beside him with Madam Maxime standing protectively behind her chair, nodded in agreement.
"Oh?" Dumbledore asked, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses. He steepled his long fingers. "And why is it then, that Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Crabbe, and Mr. Goyle are all claiming, quite strongly, that you fed them a pie made out of," Dumbledore coughed delicately into his hand, "Hippogriff feces?"
"T'ey are obviouzly lying to get uz in trouble," Fleur shrugged elegantly, looking perfectly innocent. "We did no zuch t'ing."
"Are you suggesting my Slytherin students are liars, Ms. Delacour?" Snape hissed, glaring from where he stood near the fireplace, his arms crossed tight.
"Do you 'ave any proof we did anything wrong, Professor?" Fleur glared right back, not intimidated in the slightest.
"Any magical trace? Any witnezzes who zaw uz putzing zomething in t'eir food? If not," she continued coolly, "then it iz juzt our wordz against t'eirz. We, two tournament c'ampionz, against t'em, t'ree fourt'-year ztudentz who 'aven't even been taug't common courtezy, judging by t'eir wordz thiz morning."
"We at Hogwarts do not raise liars, Ms. Delacour," Professor McGonagall shot back sharply, defending her school's honor.
"No, of course not," Percy said, rolling his eyes dramatically. "You just allow the existence of an entire house that pretty much collects blood purists and acts as a breeding ground for nasty attitudes like Malfoy's," he muttered, maybe a bit too loud. "Totally different things, yeah."
"Mr. Jackson! You will not speak to a professor like that!" Professor Sprout glared at Percy, her round face looking genuinely upset and disappointed. And immediately, the son of Poseidon felt bad. Sprout was always nice.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, Professor Sprout," he said sincerely. "I let my anger get the better of me again. It's just..." He decided to change the subject, seeing an opportunity.
"I really just want to know how that reporter, Rita Skeeter, got into the castle grounds in the first place to eavesdrop on our private conversation yesterday. Does Hogwarts have an open door policy for nasty gossip writers or something?"
Dumbledore smiled, a knowing look in his eyes. Percy realized the old wizard had definitely noticed Percy's attempt to change the conversation away from the pie incident, but he kindly did nothing to alert the other, still fuming, professors.
Instead, he replied smoothly, "I am personally looking into that very matter, Mr. Jackson. Rest assured, Ms. Skeeter's methods of entry will be discovered, and something will be done."
"I will see to it as well," Madam Maxime added, her deep voice firm. She stood protectively behind Fleur's chair, a giant, imposing guardian. "Now, if this is all, Headmazter, my champion must really be getting back to her room to rest. It iz quite late."
"Yes, yes, by all means, Madam Maxime. Please, have a good night," Dumbledore nodded kindly. Madam Maxime nodded back and guided Fleur out of the office.
"You are just letting them get away with this?!" Snape hissed at Dumbledore as soon as the door closed behind them, his voice full of outrage. "After what they clearly did?!"
"Severus," Dumbledore asked calmly, turning his twinkling eyes towards his Potions Master, "have you found any solid indication of magical wrongdoing on their part? Any proof at all?"
"No, but-" Snape started, frustrated.
"-Then it is, as Ms. Delacour rightly said, simply their word against the word of three students," Dumbledore finished gently.
"Sadly, it would seem the true perpetrator of the... ah... pie incident... will not be brought to justice today." His eyes twinkled directly at Percy, a silent message passing between them.
"Now, that will be all. You are all dismissed." The other professors, McGonagall and Sprout looking slightly less angry now, and Snape looking furious, turned to leave. Percy moved to get up too, relieved.
"Except you, Mr. Jackson. Please stay for a moment."
Percy gulped silently. 'Oh great,' he thought. He watched Fleur give him a quick wave before the door shut, leaving him alone with the powerful Headmaster.
Percy looked around the large, circular office nervously. This was his first time actually being inside it, and he had to admit, he kind of liked the crazy, organized chaos theme the old man had going on.
Strange, delicate silver instruments whirred and puffed smoke softly on spindly tables everywhere. Piles of old books teetered on shelves that reached the high ceiling.
Odd trinkets and magical objects lay scattered about. But Percy never doubted for a second that Dumbledore knew exactly what every single strange thing did.
On a golden perch near the desk, a beautiful red bird that looked like Fawkes the phoenix slept peacefully.
"So, ah..." Percy shifted awkwardly in his chair, trying for a casual tone. "What's up, doc?" he asked with a nervous half-smile, immediately wishing he hadn't used the cartoon phrase.
Dumbledore chuckled softly, his eyes kind. "You need not be nervous, Mr. Jackson. As I said, you are off the proverbial hook, as they say. No trouble awaits you." He smiled as he got up from behind his large desk.
"Come," he gestured towards the sleeping phoenix. "If I recall correctly, I believe you asked to see my phoenix, Fawkes, properly some time ago, yes? He is quite remarkable."
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If you want to read ahead by 20+ chapters you could take a visit on my patreon Or check it out.
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