Schooled

Livestockery

ooooooooooooooooooo

From end of CHAPTER 4 - SCHOOLED: SHOCKERY

Well. It was distinctive. It was definitely red... bright red, in fact - hair and face. And blessed Merlin, was it ever howling! It was a howler, made terrifying flesh. In the shocked terror of the realization that gripped him – and his hair – Ronald Weasley further added to his own future mortification by pissing his pants.

Too livid to entrust her rage to a mere howler, Molly Weasley had come to vilify her son in person. And, standing behind her, looking twice as huge and muscled and scarred and terrifying than he recalled, stood a glaring, furious Charlie Weasley.

As the wet patch on Ronald's pants slowly spread and as his disgusted peers edged away, most of the people in the Great Hall were focused solely on the trio of redheads. So, it could be forgiven that only Hadrian Potter noticed the self-satisfied smirk on the face of one of the Gryffindors, who caught Hadrian's eye and lifted his own glass in a mocking confession as he covertly raised what appeared to be an authorization form from the MOM Portkey Authority. Hadrian would just bet it was for an emergency portkey from Romania to Scotland.

Hadrian raised his own glass and smirked back proudly. Neville Longbottom was one seriously sneaky lion.

oooooooooooooooooooo

POTTERGATE

Lord Charlus Potter settled contentedly into his large, leather chair. He had an expensive cigar trimmed and ready, a snifter of cognac warming gently on the table nearest the fireplace, his evening newspaper on his lap, his slippers and dressing gown on, and was nicely sated from the delicious Beef Wellington he had just enjoyed. Oh, and his wife, Lady Evelyn Potter, was here also, seated primly in her velvet-covered chair, reading a letter which he presumed was from their pride and joy, James, who was everything the Potter Heir should be – handsome, strapping, athletic, popular and the boy who led his fellow Gryffindors in every way that mattered. Charlus felt warm pride bloom in his chest as he considered his son, who was showing every, Merlin-blessed day why he was the rightful Heir to the Potter Line.

Evelyn spoke into the quiet of the den, her beautifully-modulated tone practiced and smooth. "Well, it seems that James won a writing contest, Charlus! Isn't that nice?" She continued to skim the cover letter, frowning slightly as she got to the signature and realized that the writer was none other than her wastrel brother-in-law's bastard son. Still, the letter was polite, and as it was about James, she read it.

Charlus raised his eyesbrows, smiling slightly in pride as he said arrogantly, "Well, I'm not at all surprised, of course. Our boy can do anything he sets his mind to. I wasn't aware of a writing contest, though; what are the details?"

Evelyn scanned the letter again, explaining as she read, "It seems that Albus decided to punish the Morgan boy for his lack of sportsmanship regarding a harmless prank played by James and his young friends," Evelyn murmured scornfully. She never used Hadrian's first name, refusing to validate him even that much." Morgan brags about being a writer, so Albus ordered Morgan to hold a writing contest for the seventh-year Gryffindors. This letter is written by Morgan, so I must infer the truth, of course. From what I gather, it seems Morgan tried to get James, Sirius and some of the other Gryffindors in trouble for injuries he supposedly gained as a result of a little fun the boys had at his expense. I vaguely recall Remus saying something about how Morgan milked his supposed injuries into a 12-day stay in the Healing Wing, if you can imagine that! Ridiculous, of course. Anyone so badly injured would have been sent to St. Mungo's, and we would certainly have been notified if James had caused another major harm." It did not occur to her that Albus would have controlled that situation or that Hadrian could not have afforded a hospital visit. Even if she had thought about it, she would not have cared.