Draco put on a show

Draco's eyes darted toward the cardboard box on the table. He picked it up with both hands and held it in front of his eyes, tapping his index finger up and down on top as though pressing a camera shutter.

In a viciously convincing voice, he said, "Hi, Harry, I'm Colin Creevey. Can I take your picture? I want to make a 'Superhero—Harry Potter' album for my dad, who reeks of cow dung."

"Harry, look here, look at the camera. Yes, hold that pose. Click, click, all done! Oh, Harry, your shoes are dirty. Would you let me lick the dirt off with my tongue...?"

Luo Bin was speechless. So this was how the little brat acted around Goyle and Crabbe? Suddenly, a young aristocrat snoring and sleepwalking didn't seem so surprising!

"Malfoy, Colin Creevey has already been petrified!"

Crabbe spoke through gritted teeth.

The unspoken message was: Leave that poor gray-haired boy alone!

Draco casually tossed the box aside and sank into the sofa. "Yes, he was petrified, and our great hero was the first to find him. They're ridiculous. They actually think Harry Potter is the Heir of Salazar Slytherin?"

Crabbe (Goyle) abruptly sat up straight, convinced that what came next would give him solid evidence of the Malfoy family's crimes.

"I really wish I knew who it was. Then I could help them clear all the Mudbloods out of the castle!"

Luo Bin thought, Give it a rest, Draco. Last time, when Serpensortia conjured a black snake that nearly bit Justin Finch-Fletchley, you were practically scared out of your wits.

Crabbe (Harry) widened his eyes. If Draco Malfoy wasn't the Heir, who could it be?

Harry's mind raced. "Draco, you must know something. The person pulling all the strings behind the scenes is..."

Draco suddenly knitted his