Sweet Revenge

Gold is a Malleable Metal

Upon landing, Bella doubled over in front of Lucius, clutching her stomach and moaning about vomiting. Lucius conjured a shiny red bucket.

          "Do you think you can cast a spell, Bella?"

Bella did not respond. Lucius stared. Bella heaved. Lucius looked away and cast a silencio in her direction.

          "Perhaps...I can?" Harry volunteered.

Lucius complexion looked much brighter all of a sudden.

          "Excellent, excellent! Well, there isn't any time to waste, is there?" He said jovially as he began trotting out of the room. As the two left, Bella pronounced a mumbled query of why they had brought her there anyway.

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The spell itself, Brackium Emendo, had been very shockingly easy to put into effect on Alex. The only problem was that without a skull, Alex's face kept collapsing on itself. Lucius's keen sense of aesthetic was disgusted by the sight of the melty face, so he had created a magical, cartilaginous substance to support the skin. Alex himself had been rendered speechless from the trauma of having felt his own skin collide with his internal organs (it was a rather slimy sensation, Harry imagined as he looked down at the dumbfounded Alex). The only problem about Lucius's solution was that now, the head...jiggled every time Alex Potter breathed, and since he breathed quite a bit, the head looked very much like jelly. 

As Harry was squinting through the cage bars at this strange motion, Ginny Weasley (who had evidently recovered from losing Alex's engagement ring) walked up behind Alex in the cage.

              "What's wrong with my Golden Boy?" she demanded, putting her hands on her hips in an attempt to look strong despite the fact that she was behind bars.

Harry only looked more intensely at Alex's gelatinous head and said,

            "Gold is a malleable metal, Weasley."

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Draco was in the Slytherin dorms when he received a letter on a silver platter carried by one of the Hogwarts house elves. When he unrolled the parchment, he found only the words "MALFOY MANOR" scratched out in absurdly large and Pansy-like handwriting. 

          "Malfoy Manor?" Draco wondered aloud.

Instantly, the Portkey whisked him off to said location. His scream of shock and fury was lost in the wind that hurled past his ears.

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Upon the grand white marble staircase in the foyer of Malfoy Manor, the esteemed Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy stood in their best furs, having adopted identical superior expressions on their faces and looking anywhere except for the girl who sat on the bottom stair with her elbows on her knees and a quill still dripping with ink dying her fingers black. 

Mr. Malfoy cleared his throat but was cut off when a whir in the middle of the room drew his attention, and he watched as his son was thrown out of midair to land on his face in the fur rug beside the chairs just to the left of the staircase. Mr. Malfoy snapped his eyes to the ceiling where they unsuspiciously fixated on one spot on the ceiling.

          "You know, Draco, let's have a civil conversation. I don't appreciate the way that you threw me into the Floo to Slytherin Castle. If you'd given me a note of warning beforehand, I would not have done the same to you just now. How do you feel, by the way?" Pansy asked.

           "Quite well thanks, and my parents were the ones who told me to," Draco whined.

Pansy turned her accusatory glare to Lucius, who began to sweat profusely. His eyes made a desperate round of the room before he gulped and said in a very high-pitched voice,

          "No, no, no. Not at all. I've no idea what you are talking about, Miss Parkinson!"

Pansy was silent and Lucius peeked down at her ever-intensifying glare. He became more agitated and made another effort to clear his throat. Then, giving up, he pointed at Narcissa and sprinted up the stairs, furs and all.

Narcissa gave a theatrical, betrayed gasp that must have resonated through the entire manor because as soon as she fainted, several house elves slid under and caught her on a silver fur-lined stretcher and carried her out of the house as fast as they could. Draco rushed to the window and saw as his "fainted" mother sat bolt upright, changed into some very tacky silver heels and disapparated from the stretcher the minute she was far enough from the front doors. What a beautifully-orchestrated plan. 

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          "--NOT POSSIBLE!"

          "IT'S EDIBLE, INNIT?"

          "NOOOOOOO!"

           "LET'S CALM DOWN, EVERYBODY!"

           "CALM DOWN? HIS HEAD IS LIKE A BIG GELATIN CAKE!"

          "DID SOMEONE SAY CAKE?"

           "NO, RONALD!"

          "GEROFF ME!"

             "ARGHHHH!"

Such was the scene that Narcissa Malfoy apparated into: Inside the cage, Molly Weasley was holding on to Ron Weasley's waist as the latter clawed at the air to get toward Alex Potter's wobby head, which was being protected by Ginny Weasley, whose ankle was being held by Arthur Weasley as Dumbledore raged in the background.

When she apparated, the uproar stopped as they blinked owlishly at her. She looked back at them with mild distaste and the clicked her tacky heels. Just as she disapparated, she heard Alex Potter exclaim,

            "She's magic!"

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Tom was sitting in his private parlour reading The Portrait of Dorian Gray as Harry rested his head in his lap and read about magical creatures in a book with a brilliant red cover. He had been about to wrap up when he heard a knock and, feeling generous because he was in a good mood, he waved his hand to open the door. Narcissa Malfoy was standing at the door, wearing a pair of silver stilettos with metallic fringe wrapped around them. The frills circled around her heel and then came up around her legs like wide, embellished ballerina wraps. Harry looked up from his book and immediately recoiled (into Tom, which Tom was pleased about). 

          "There's a little problem with the chickens in your room," she drawled, sounding remarkably like Draco, before marching out, frills swishing against her legs. Harry shuddered.