Harry Potter 04 - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

you were staying with them this summer, weren’t you, Potter?’ sneered Malfoy. ‘So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?’
    ‘You know your mother, Malfoy?’ said Harry – both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron’s robes to stop him launching himself at Malfoy – ‘That expression she’s got, like she’s got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?’
    Malfoy’s pale face went slightly pink. ‘Don’t you dare insult my mother, Potter.’
    ‘Keep your fat mouth shut, then,’ said Harry, turning away.
    BANG!
    Several people screamed – Harry felt something white hot graze the side of his face – he plunged his hand into his robes for his wand, but before he’d even touched it, he heard a second loud BANG, and a roar which echoed through the Entrance Hall.
    ‘OH NO YOU DON’T, LADDIE!’
    Harry spun around. Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Malfoy had been standing.
    There was a terrified silence in the Entrance Hall. Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle. Moody turned to look at Harry – at least, his normal eye was looking at Harry; the other one was pointing into the back of his head.
    ‘Did he get you?’ Moody growled. His voice was low and gravelly.
    ‘No,’ said Harry, ‘missed.’
    ‘LEAVE IT!’ Moody shouted.
    ‘Leave – what?’ Harry said, bewildered.
    ‘Not you – him!’ Moody growled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Crabbe, who had just frozen, about to pick up the white ferret. It seemed that Moody’s rolling eye was magical and could see out of the back of his head.
    Moody started to limp towards Crabbe, Goyle and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking towards the dungeons.
    ‘I don’t think so!’ roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again – it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upwards once more.
    ‘I don’t like people who attack when their opponent’s back’s turned,’ growled Moody, as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. ‘Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do …’
    The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly.
    ‘Never – do – that – again –’ said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upwards again.
    ‘Professor Moody!’ said a shocked voice.
    Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with her arms full of books.
    ‘Hello, Professor McGonagall,’ said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.
    ‘What – what are you doing?’ said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret’s progress through the air.
    ‘Teaching,’ said Moody.
    ‘Teach– Moody, is that a student? ’ shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.
    ‘Yep,’ said Moody.
    ‘No!’ cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing.
    ‘Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!’ said Professor McGonagall weakly. ‘Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?’
    ‘He might’ve mentioned it, yeah,’ said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, ‘but I thought a good sharp shock –’
    ‘We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender’s Head of house!’
    ‘I’ll do that, then,’ said Moody, staring at Malfoy with great dislike.
    Malfoy, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, looked malevolently up at Moody and muttered something in which the words ‘my father’ were distinguishable.
    ‘Oh yeah?’ said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps, the dull clunk of his wooden leg echoing around the hall. ‘Well, I know your father of old, boy … you tell him Moody’s keeping a close eye on his son … you tell him that from me … now, your Head of house’ll be Snape, will it?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Malfoy resentfully.
    ‘Another old friend,’ growled Moody. ‘I’ve been looking forward to a chat with old Snape … come on, you …’ And he seized Malfoy’s upper arm and marched him off towards the dungeons.
    Professor