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"
What
's
up
with
you
,
Crabbe
?
"
snapped
Malfoy
.
"
Stomachache
,
"
Ron
grunted
.
"
Well
,
go
up
to
the
hospital
wing
and
give
all
those
Mudbloods
a
kick
from
me
,
"
said
Malfoy
,
snickering
.
"
You
know
,
I
'm
surprised
the
Daily
Prophet
has
n't
reported
all
these
attacks
yet
,
"
he
went
on
thoughtfully
.
"
I
suppose
Dumbledore
's
trying
to
hush
it
all
up
.
He
'll
be
sacked
if
it
does
n't
stop
soon
.
Father
's
always
said
old
Dumbledore
's
the
worst
thing
that
's
ever
happened
to
this
place
.
He
loves
Muggle-borns
.
A
decent
headmaster
would
never
've
let
slime
like
that
Creevey
in
.
"
Malfoy
started
taking
pictures
with
an
imaginary
camera
and
did
a
cruel
but
accurate
impression
of
Colin
:
"
'
Potter
,
can
I
have
your
picture
,
Potter
?
Can
I
have
your
autograph
?
Can
I
lick
your
shoes
,
please
,
Potter
?
"
He
dropped
his
hands
and
looked
at
Harry
and
Ron
.
"
What
's
the
matter
with
you
two
?
"
Far
too
late
,
Harry
and
Ron
forced
themselves
to
laugh
,
but
Malfoy
seemed
satisfied
;
perhaps
Crabbe
and
Goyle
were
always
slow
on
the
uptake
.
"
Saint
Potter
,
the
Mudbloods
'
friend
,
"
said
Malfoy
slowly
.
"
He
's
another
one
with
no
proper
wizard
feeling
,
or
he
would
n't
go
around
with
that
jumped
up
Granger
Mudblood
.
And
people
think
he
's
Slytherin
's
heir
!
"
Harry
and
Ron
waited
with
bated
breath
:
Malfoy
was
surely
seconds
away
from
telling
them
it
was
him
-
but
then
"
I
wish
I
knew
who
it
is
,
"
said
Malfoy
petulantly
.
"
I
could
help
them
.
"
