Missed the prep article? Here it is.
Before jumping in, let’s have ourselves something warm and comforting and maybe a little… pungent.
Here is a small sampling of the cleverly named Leek-y Cauldron Soup from MuggleNet. The recipe calls for a pretzel bun to be cored and turned into a bowl for the soup. It would have been perfect… except the buns I bought weren’t very big. I wasn’t confident in my abilities to bowl-ize a bun, and why bother spooning a few lumps of soup into such a small space? (Yes, I could have made my own pretzel buns, but that was one more recipe and I was feeling lazy.)
Size really wasn’t a factor here. You could eat only a ketchup cup of this soup and still have the flavors sitting on your tongue for hours. It’s like an onion soup dressed up in cream.
As the name mentions, leeks are the main ingredient. This was my first time cooking them. The only edible part is the white bulb that makes up maybe ten percent of the whole vegetable. While I appreciate their delicate flavor, I don’t like the waste they leave. Though I suppose next time I could throw them under a tree and let the rabbits at them.
The ingredient that stands out the most? Bacon. There’s so much bacon that spoonfuls provide more bacon taste than anything else. The potato adds some texture in an otherwise mostly liquid dish. The half and half adds richness while helping the chicken stock blend everything. The chicken stock is only there to turn the meal into a soup; otherwise, you’d be spooning super loaded mashed potatoes.
As for the chives, I kind of overdid them. Chives are just a smidgen more pungent than leeks. They are an optional ingredient, but since they’re another type of onion, I’d skip them next time.
Preparing this soup was a challenge. The instructions called for a lot of stirring. I swear, this blog doubles as an exercise blog; I should change the subtitle to “Where Every Recipe Makes It Arms Day.” Other than the work put into the preparation, it is an enjoyable soup, maybe something enjoyed with a pint and a bigger bread bowl.
Pour yourself a bowl—pretzel or otherwise—and let’s sit down for another helping of The Draco Trilogy.
What better way to start this off than with a disclaimer?
What’s different this time around is the editor’s notes. No, Clare didn’t get an editor to immortalize her opus. What we’re reading is a PDF recompiled by one of her fans back in the day. As of this posting, Jillian Liu’s LiveJournal is still online, but it hasn’t been updated since 2009. If you follow the links on her profile, you’ll find that she was part of the LJ groups draco_trilogy and dracotrilogy. Both haven’t seen activity since around 2009.
It’s also interesting to note that through allmyloveismine’s profile, down in the friends section, you’ll find a user named blackholly. This is none other than YA author Holly Black, whom Clare befriended and—if the rumors are true—the main reason she landed a literary agent, proving once again that success in any creative industry is not about your hard work and talent, but who you know.
Anyway.
Chapter 1: Bad Dreams
Draco wakes up from a nightmare, sick and sweaty. Pretty surprising for a kid who grew up around tapestries playing ghoulish battles. Watching bloodshed while getting stomped on by a murderous equine would probably be one of his better dreams.
But having it on rerun is distressing him. Dreams of this sort have been plaguing Draco since he left Hogwarts for Magid School. Hoping for the aid of a sympathetic ear… or a sympathetic eye… he begins writing a letter to Hermione. He’s ruled out his mother and soon-to-be stepfather, Narcissa and Sirius. The lovebirds are enjoying their rekindled romance on a pre-wedding vacation in Greece, so you know they’re gonna be busy. And the sooner you forget that they’re first cousins in the official canon, the easier you’ll digest this subplot.
Draco has also ruled out Harry because… guy code or something? I don’t know. You’d think swapping physiques via transmogrifying potion would bring them a little closer together. Emotionally, I mean. Not even the threat of becoming related through marriage can do that for Draco, so Harry’s still out.
Pop Malfoy is also ruled out as he’s permanently checked into the loony bin for magic folk, or as it’s officially called, St. Mungo’s Treatment Center for the Criminally Insane (not Magical Maladies as stated in the first installment and the official material). It’s good that the old man finally got a room there, as madness runs in the family. You’d think other wizards would avoid a famously crazy family like the Malfoys, even if those pockets run deeper than the Mariana Trench. But I guess witches be crazy.
His mind frenzied from the nightmare, Draco finds it impossible to write. He crumples up the blank paper and throws it out the window. To hide the evidence, I suppose.
He returns to bed, staring at the ceiling, because inviting another opportunity for nightmares would do him a world of good.
Later on…
HARRY: Tell the third wheel I appreciate his mother’s gift. I’d write him myself but guy code states to forget all male friends once I’ve partnered with a girl.
Hermione is reading Harry’s letter with all the giddiness of a girl in the first throes of long distance love. Harry’s account further exposits that Hogwarts 2.0 is Godric Gryffindor’s fortress and their only class so far has focused on controlling emotions. If you remember from the previous installment, it was revealed that Harry and Draco are direct descandants of Godric and Salazar Slytherin, respectively, and thus super wizards or Magids.
In true fanfic form, Harry the former original hero needs a lot of work whereas the bully heartthrob Draco is in perfect form. They’re stuck together over the summer since Malfoy Manor is crawling with Aurors investigating Lucius’s evil headquarters. Narcissa and Sirius’s wedding is set for August 15th, by the way. I’m bringing a Cuisinart coffee maker. I’m sure they’d enjoy it, unless there’s a capulusa charm wizards abuse. (That’s “coffee” in Latin. Google Translate said so.)
If the idea of enduring more Draco snark is already giving you a headache, Harry has some good news: Professor Lupin is teaching at the school. Just as Dumbledore gave him a job at Hogwarts, he saw fit to give the werewolf a job at the Magid school. Seeing how Hogwarts is a respected institution and the role of Head Master carries some weight, you’d think that Dumbledore would use his influence to convince other wizards to give Lupin another shot. Oh, well, Rowling decreed that every new instructor get kicked out by the end of the school year, and the competent ones are no exception.
Fleur Delacour is also among the cast in this installment. At eighteen years of age, her super powers had just manifested, but she’s now a Magid student at nineteen. As a late bloomer myself, I sympathize… until I realize she’s part veela, just like Draco. She’s been given more edges than a multi blade razor.
Interestingly, Harry assumes that “Magid stuff is a lot more common among people with veela ancestry.” If that’s the case, shouldn’t Draco’s lineage be dotted with Magids? Veela populate the portraits in the manor. Or did it only increase the chances of Magid “stuff” showing up in Draco? But new info and backstory are usually created for succeeding volumes in a trilogy or series. Sorry, I’m just used to nitpicking at this point.
Anyway, Hermione finishes the letter and tucks it away for repeat reading. Ginny Weasley, who’s sitting across the breakfast table from her, asks for the news before being disturbed by Ron’s owl, Pigwidgeon. I gotta stop here, because Pig is legitimately cute. In Prisoner of Azkaban, Sirius had gifted Pig to Ron after Scabbers the rat turned out to be Peter Pettigrew. Here, Pig is spilling coffee and being an adorable little nuisance.
Anyway, as stated, Hermione folds up Harry’s letter in full view of Ginny Weasley, who’s sitting across the table from her and doesn’t harbor any ill will toward Hermione at all for winning Harry’s heart.
Ginny is all blushes and flustery feelings seeing how she’s “still retained the vestiges of her terrible crush on Harry” but it “genuinely happy for Hermione.” Yes, as genuinely happy as someone still harboring vestiges of a terrible crush can be. I’m certain there won’t be any resentment or passive aggressive comments in the future.
Ron is reading his own letter from Harry (probably goes something like “Hey bloke, School’s great. Draco’s a sod. Tell Hermione I love her to the end of the earth and back and nobody will ever replace her by my side. Harry”). He mentions Fleur, who was dating Percy Weasley at one point. The relationship has swung to the “off” side of their on-again, off-again deal. This has Hermione fuming.
Girl, you made your choice in the first book. Accept it. No backsies.
*sigh* Of course she won’t, because this fanfic is rigged.
Hermione picks up another letter, this one from someone she hasn’t heard from in a long time: Viktor Krum. Not only is the star Quidditch player checking in with Hermione, he also has something important to tell her at the Leaky Cauldron. Something so important, it couldn’t possibly be revealed in a private letter. It’s so suspicious that she makes plans to meet up with him.
Why not make a special trip of it? Girls’ day out! They’ll get some coffee and shop and make underhanded comments about each other’s hair. It’ll be a bonding experience! But first, Hermione needs to compose letters to Harry and Draco.
Clare takes this time to describe the Weasleys’ residence, a hodgepodge of structurally questionable wood and brick fondly called the Burrow. While the books describe it as possibly violating every building regulation in England, there’s kind of a charm to it. A cozy, sloppy interlocking puzzle of rooms that provide a haven for Harry when he’s not living at 4 Privet Drive. Even the readers fell in love with it.
But in the trilogy, it could have had an upgrade. The twins, Fred and George, have used their new wealth to add new rooms to the Burrow. In fact, “the house now looked more like a lopsided birthday cake than ever.” I get being emotionally attached to a place you’ve lived in or built yourself, but wouldn’t it make financial sense to move into a bigger place? Or remodel the house? Well, hey, magic exists in this world, why not use magic to improve the house? Is magic taxed—ugh, no, I’m putting too much thought into this.
Hermione gets to writing her letter to Harry. But like most lovestruck youngsters, she finds the words impossible to set down on paper.
HERMIONE: Mine, all mine, he’s divested of all autonomy, all mine forever…
She tries a couple of endearing terms before settling on “Dearest Harry,” then scribbles out the rest of the letter before moving on to Draco’s note.
HERMIONE: “Dear Draco, Thoughts of you fill my very core with tender warmth, making my inner thighs swell with the tiniest of trembles that build up into the most pleasurable of releases. You make me so happy to be a woman. Hope you’re doing well. Yours in lust, Hermione.”
Running downstairs to send off the mail, she nearly runs right into Ron. The near collision gives him an opportunity to point out a piece of jewelry around Hermione’s neck. It’s none other than Draco’s Epicyclical Charm. If you forgot what it was from the previous installment, I envy you so much. Clare-Potterverse Lucius Malfoy had constructed the fiendish jewelry from one of Draco’s baby teeth and some life force magical bullshit. It’s technically a kill switch for Draco, and one of the means that Lucius used to keep Narcissa from running off. After the big showdown near the Bottomless Pit, Draco entrusted its safety to Hermione. It’s also a homing device, providing convenience for characters later down the road.
Ron is quite surprised by this revelation. The Epicyclical Charm is such a vital part to Draco’s very existence. What if Hermione dropped it or forgot it?
HERMIONE: And don’t even bring up the fact that I was seconds away from throwing it into the Bottomless Pit in the first book!
So the charm is safe, semi-permanently fused to Hermione’s person through magical means, thanks to Dumbledore. Let’s not question why a grown wizard would magick something so severely on a minor witch, or why only two people in the world can remove it from her body. The smartest witch in this generation and the Head Master can’t trust her… wait, I just remembered this is the Clare-Potterverse Hermoine. She’d probably stomp on the jewelry the moment Draco pissed her off.
Anyway, with this future plot point or convenience set up, Hermione goes to Ginny so they can Floo over to Diagon Alley
Leaving the girls alone for now, let’s check out mail call at the Dumbledore School for Super Wizards Who Can Magic Good. Harry and Draco receive their letters in the students’ hall during lunch. So, wait… is this the same day or the next day? Regardless, that delivery owl must be pounding some kind of energy pellets.
Hermione, being an “eminently fair girl,” has written letters to both her flame and her raging inferno. Harry’s letter is fastened to one owl leg with a red ribbon, and Draco’s has a green ribbon.
Nah, her nature is to openly flirt with the guy she claims to not like in an effort to make her One And Only jealous. I can’t tell if Clare has forgotten that blatant detail from her first work or if she’s rewriting her version of Hermione to be “an eminently fair” young lady. (Expect that phrase to come up again; it’s stuck in my brain folds like stew meat digging between molars.)
Draco gets his letter, skims it, then tucks it away. Harry, being so trusting of his girlfriend, would pay “a sackful of Galleons” to read that letter.
If you have to question, then it’s either not true love, or you’re dealing with some major insecurities. But it wouldn’t be a proper fanfic without raging doubts and jealousy disguised as true love.
But Harry needn’t worry (too much). Draco has his own lady problems, and they’re collectively named Fleur Delacour. The French student from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic has always been drawn to good looks and money, and flirting is one of her main hobbies. Despite this shallowness, she does seem to take an interest in her education, so long as she has a good time doing it. That good time includes worming her way into most of Draco’s daily routine and digging up info—and she did it from the start, asking about his last name. “Malfoy […] I know that name, that is a French name. Is your family French?”
Strangely enough, it kind of is. Rowling derived Malfoy from the Old French “mal” meaning bad or evil, and “foi” meaning faith or trust.
Tuck away that bit of trivia as a bleach rinse for this next part:
All I can say is that I’m glad Clare didn’t explore that what-if.
When I mentioned that Fleur has wormed her way into Draco’s routine, I wasn’t kidding. Clare writes “Draco rarely went anywhere these days without Fleur tagging along at his heels.” (Getting her teeth kicked in as she attempts to kiss his feet, I’m sure.) So if lack of contractions, apostrophes in place of consonants, and other attempts to describe accents grate on your nerves, get used to having a mental cheese grater against your head whenever Fleur opens her mouth.
Back in the present, with Draco and Fleur in their “effective mutual admiration society,” Harry seems to be left on his own with thoughts of Hermione and the possibility that she could leave him at any moment. He quickly opens the letter.
HERMIONE: But you better not take it, if you know what’s good for you. Tell Draco I said hi.
She also mentions making plans to see Viktor. Harry’s self-fulfilling prophecy has a catalyst. Wearing his discomfort on his face has drawn Draco and Fleur’s grinning mugs.
Sometimes I want to get into the heads of Clare’s readers in the Aughts. Were they giggling like crazy when they read this stuff? Did they think they were in on some grownup joke? Did they accept these versions of their beloved characters? I gotta be honest, if I’d been part of this fandom around that time, I probably would have eaten up this stuff, too… and that does concern me a little.
Thank the writing gods. My favorite lycanthrope walks in to save us from try-hard sex jokes. If only this would turn into a Professor Lupin fanfic… actually, I’ve read descriptions for some of those, I take that back.
Clare describes Lupin’s fresh appearance through Harry’s eyes, which makes Harry sound like he’s occupied with others’ looks—except Hermione’s. He notes how Lupin “seems to have fewer lines on his face” despite being “very brown from the summer sunshine.” Even Draco and Fleur, paler than blind cave salamanders, have that sun-baked look from the Irish sun. You know, Ireland, the sunbathing destination for visitors the world over?
All this implied hotness and what does Harry get? Just a few freckles across his nose. Bet you they won’t get brought up again.
Anyway, Lupin has come around to fetch Harry and Draco for a plot point that doesn’t involve Fleur. She’s miffed at being left out, especially after Draco simply says “See you later.” If you were a true gentleman, Draco, you would have propped up a mirror in front of her. Then she’d have all the companionship she wants.
The trio head to the boys’ dorm room, “a large stone room, big enough to house six or seven boys, although Harry and Draco were its only occupants.” Kind of a waste of space for just two people. For that matter, the whole castle sounds like a waste of space. Was the world crawling with Magids ages ago? They couldn’t have been that rare.
I change my mind. With all that space, Draco and Harry would probably be up to some dueling roommates antics, such as pushing their belongings to the far opposites of the room. If things get really heated, I guess they can draw a magical line in the middle of the room. Sitcomiosa!
Lupin spots Salazar Slytherin’s sword (say that three times fast). He’s under instructions from Dumbledore to examine the artifact.
LUPIN: “Should” being the operative word, but what’s life without a dare every now and then?
About as much as it sucks having your filicide-loving father incarcerated, you thoughtless git.
Because this simple action requires a whole paragraph, Draco retrieves the sword from his trunk and walks across the room and hands it to Lupin as opposed to throwing it like a javelin.
LUPIN: Augh! Oh! Bugger, I should have done the flat side!
Lupin casts indicio and writing in the metal appears: Descensus averno facilis est. Translation: “Easy is the Descent Into Hell,” which is about one half of the “Easy is the Descent” header for Part Two in City of Bones. I’m telling you folks, you’re witnessing the gestation period of The Mortal Instruments.
As an aside, I couldn’t find the Latin root for indicio, but my Latin sucks to begin with. Interestingly, it is a Spanish word with multiple meanings including evidence, indication, manifestation, and sign. So… points for smarts?
I’m starting a snark jar. Anything snarky or outright obnoxious gets twenty-five cents. How many so far? I’ll say four, so I have a whole buck already.
Twenty-five more cents.
Unperturbed by this enlightening discourse, Lupin asks Draco to keep the sword for further observation.
An extra fifty cents and a jaw massage for the sudden pain I have from gritting my teeth.
Mean-damn-while, in Diagon Alley, Hermione and Ginny are pressed for coffee time with Krum. I’d care more about this development, but my mind is wandering to casual dining trends in the late 1990s and early 2000s. Was coffee as big then as it is now in the UK?
“Violently in love.” This would be poetic from a more experienced writer, but this is Cassandra Clare, who thinks angry outbursts between couples is a sign of devoted love. It also makes me think of someone so obsessed with their target that they want to crawl inside their skin… ugh.
Upon approaching the Leaky Cauldron, a nervous Hermione pleads with Ginny to accompany her. Inside the nearly empty pub, they’re caught off guard by a familiar human mountain. Viktor! And what a dream boat he still is after all these years.
Ah, y’know, I shouldn’t judge. He’s a kind soul, and once he opens up, he’s very likable.
Except for here.
Viktor is adamant that he get Hermione alone. Ginny, for whatever reason, thinks this means that she has to leave Hermione behind. “She won’t be able to get back on her own!” she claims. What, does nobody keep Floo powder on their person in case of an emergency?
But Hermione assures Ginny that she’ll be fine. Just five minutes in a small room, behind a locked door, with the towering sports figure. This gives the Weasley girl some time alone with her thoughts.
Just as Ginny is entertaining a miserable life without the speccy boy toy, Hermione bursts out of another door. She grasps Ginny’s hands in “freezing cold” hands and implores her to return to the Burrow. Whatever Viktor told her, it’s convinced Hermione to stay at the Leaky Cauldron longer. Ginny barely questions the situation, once again leaving Hermione alone with the suspicious Krum as she follows the order.
I’m calling it. This is a kidnapping. Knowing wizards’ common sense in the Potterverse, Ginny would probably be made leader of the search team.
Mean-diddly-while, Draco is awoken by someone shaking his shoulder. Thinking it’s Harry, he starts demanding answers, only to find a pair of yellow-veined red eyes glaring at him through the darkness.
Draco throws himself out of bed. In the darkness, he can’t make out much more the intruder, but it appears to be the “size of a dog” and crouching at the end of the bed. Dogs come in various sizes, Clare. Are we talking a stompable teacup-sized fluff or a mastiff that would require a football team to overpower?
(American or British football. Doesn’t matter.)
Attempting to find a weapon to use against the vaguely sized menace, Draco scrambles for his sword in the trunk. Just as he remembers that Lupin now has it, Harry comes to the rescue with a lumos. The light from the wand scares the creature, who immediately cowers.
Oh, no. If this is Dobby 2.0, I’m quitting right now and doing a Ruth Ellen Church dip recipe.
Fortunately, we’re in luck.
Again, what size? A miniature defeated by purses or a giant you need to restrain on a tungsten chain lead?
Harry calms the Dobby-Voldemort hybrid. Still somewhat terrified, the creature states its purpose: “I have come here only for what is mine. […] My other half! […] For many years, it was hidden from me. And then I began to sense it had returned to the world.”
It’s not quite snark, but I’m still putting twenty-five cents in the jar.
You know what, Dobbymort? You’re okay. You’re okay even as you’re throwing a shitfit and pummeling Draco’s pillow.
Motherfucker, that’s a lifted line! The superscript 1 beside the quotation mark proves it! Twenty-five cents.
I’m sure you’ve figured out that the demon—come on, you figured that out as well—is looking for the sword. Wanting to hold on to his inheritance, Draco tries a ruse on the creature.
Twenty-five cents. I could buy a gourmet chocolate bar by the end of this chapter.
Man, I barely felt Clare’s disdain for Harry just now.
The demon begins tearing up the room like a coked out rock star. Rather than do the smart thing and banish the entity right damn now, Harry thinks it would be “better to convince it we haven’t got the thing, otherwise it’ll just come back.”
I’m no demonologist, but isn’t that the point of banishing, to drive away the entity and guarantee its permanent absence? Unless this is a weak “time out” kind of banishment you were taught, Harry.
I think I’m starting to understand why Clare’s fanfics were considered just as good if not better than Rowling’s books: They possessed the same kind of plot contrivances, withholding of information, plot holes, and general lack of common sense and numbskullery that moved the original stories along. Gads, this is making me dislike the original series.
Draco agrees to go along with Harry’s stupidity.
Change of plans. A quarter in the jar anytime I read something I don’t like. *clink*
Mean-frickety-while, Ron is berating Ginny for leaving Hermoine behind, as if Hermoine doesn’t possess some kind of agency and is capable is making her own stupid decisions. Just as the arguments becomes more heated, who should show up but Hermione herself.
So Hermione calmly walks upstairs, calmly comes back down with an overnight bag, calmly walks past Ron, and calmly announces her plans to spend a few days with Viktor.
GINNY: Can I spend a few days with him in turn?
Ron begs Hermione to reconsider. If this is a way to get back at Harry for something, he suggests another way. Yes, he suggests his best friends sink deeper into whatever argument he’s imagined for them. What a pal.
*snerk* Okay, that was worth it.
Cripes, Ron, why did you act out like that?
The Weasley kids run after her, only to find Hermione wrapping her arms around Viktor’s waist as they sail up into the night sky.
HERMIONE: Not so fast—*huuurk*
Ron tells Ginny to get Pigwidgeon to send a letter to “Mum and Dad—and Hermione’s parents—” As if that tiny owl can manage two different letters in a short matter of time. Dammit, wizards, haven’t you ever heard of phones? How about a spell to send a telepathic message? What about that face-in-the-fireplace communication thing?
Ginny says she can’t get Pigwidgeon. “He’s gone […] I think Hermione sent him off already with a letter.” I guess she sensed it as they were running after Hermione through the yard.
Let’s cut to the future recipient of the Dear John letter. Sleep-deprived Harry and Draco are standing outside Lupin’s office door, debating whether to tell a capable adult of anything going wrong, as goddamned usual in this universe. The demon has left, vowing to return for its other half.
DEMON: I’m going to get me a cuppa and maybe a case of donuts while I’m out. You kids want anything?
Harry wants to tell Lupin about the demon, seeing how the professor is a werewolf and “used to all this Dark Magic type stuff.” Draco is opposed, claiming that Lupin will “feel morally bound to do something about it.”
Just the one. It’s not like demons are known to attract hordes of their own kind to cause more mayhem. Precaution, what’s that?
Ten to one the old man leaves it all up to the kids to solve on their own. I’m getting tired of bringing that up, but I feel it’s necessary.
For an author favorite, you’re kind of dumb, Draco.
At this point, I’d empty out my wallet into the jar, but the cobwebs in there pad it out, and I kind of like the illusion of being loaded. *clink*
The boys finally head in. Lupin is reading The Daily Prophet at his desk, waiting patiently with a smile.
Please, Clare, don’t mess up this character. He is balm for the chafe spread throughout this work.
Lupin gets down to business. The sword that had been passed down through generations of Malfoys isn’t only a Magid sword…
What do you mean it’s “great,” you overly mordant moron? You grew up with animated tapestries replaying gory battles. How the hell is this any different? Having a demon blade would make you the most awesome person in the room! It might even make up for your lack of a concrete personality.
But Lupin is quick to deny any party tricks with the weapon. Draco immediately throws a hissy fit most unbecoming of a young man. The professor doesn’t cave in. When he meant that the blade is demonic in nature, he meant it for real. The blade itself is a demon.
Damn! Forget being the most awesome person at the parties. Awesome people would be going to your place and asking if you’ll throw parties right then and there.
Lupin must keep the sword and perform more tests. (“And is it less evil if you keep it in your office?”) Much like in the Malfoy residence, the sword will be kept behind adamantine glass, a type of material “that resists most types of magical interference, and is very nearly unbreakable.” I’d gripe about how this sounds like it was lifted from standard tabletop RPG elements, but a lot of fantasy stories lift material from RPGs. They’re a cornucopia of inspiration.
Now Lupin, being a responsible adult who nevertheless respects a maturing young adult’s agency, asks Harry if there was something they needed to discuss. And Harry, being an amateur young adult who can’t seem to fathom that bringing in an experienced wizard to solve these problems may provide convenience in his already fractured life, just replies, “No, Professor Lupin. Nothing.”
I’ll gripe, but I’ll also give Clare credit when she’s clever.
The boys are interrupted by a harried Pigwidgeon. The little owl delivers the letter, and now I’m wondering how big exactly Pig is in relation to the letters he has to carry.
But what’s the importance of animals’ comfort in the face of a new corner in this relationship polygon? Harry’s face drains of color when he reads the letter.
DRACO: That’s awful! Say, how about some post-breakup shenanigans concerning a sword retrieval to lift your spirits, huh?
Snark Jar: $3
