i'm not buying today, mr. borgin. but selling.
you have heard, of course, that the ministry of magic is conducting more raids. there are even rumors of a new muggle protection act.  lucius unravels a roll of parchment, hands it to borgin.
i have a few.  ah.  items at home that might prove embarrassing if the ministry were to call. certain poisons and the like.
hopefully my son will amount to more than a thief, mr. borgin. though if his marks don't pick up --
i would have thought you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizarding family beat you in every exam.
not with me. inside the cabinet, harry's knees are up under his chin.  borgin checks off one last time, then returns the parchment to lucius. satisfied, malfoy nods.
very good. i'll expect you at the manor tomorrow. come, draco. they exit. as borgin slips into the back room, the crushing cabinet's doors fly open and harry leaps free. inside, the walls, floor, and ceiling snap shut! borgin reappears, blinks curiously at harry, then watches him race out the door.
silence, draco! ah.  mr. potter. i don't believe we've met.
forgive me, mr. potter. but your scar is legend. as, of course, is the wizard who gave it to you.
yes, a pity about your parents. curious that you yourself should escape with a mere flesh wound. curious, too, that you speak of him in the past. surely, you don't think he-who-must-not-be- named is gone forever.
you must be very brave, mr. potter, to dare speak his name. or foolish.
you must be miss granger. draco's told me all about you.  and your parents. muggles, aren't you? mr. and mrs. granger nod nervously. lucius malfoy can barely disguise his distaste for them. arthur weasley hurries over.
well, well, well -- arthur weasley.
busy time at the ministry. all those raids. i hope they're paying you overtime. malfoy reaches into ginny's cauldron, removes a very old, battered copy of a beginner's guide to transfiguration.
obviously not. dear me. what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it.
clearly. the company you keep, weasley. and i thought your family could sink no lower. mr. weasley moves to hit lucius malfoy. hagrid steps forward, puts a firm hand on mr. weasley's shoulder.
here, girl. take your book. it's the best your father can give you. lucius and draco exit. hagrid looks at the weasleys.
already here, fudge? good, good.
my dear man, please believe me, i have no pleasure at all in being inside your -- do you call this a house? i simply called at the school and was told the headmaster was here.
dreadful thing, dumbledore, but the governors feel it's time for you to step aside. this is an order of suspension. you'll find all twelve signatures on it. i'm afraid we feel you're losing your touch. what with all these attacks, there'll be no muggle- borns left at hogwarts. and we all know what an awful loss that would be. malfoy hands fudge an official roll of parchment.
that remains to be seen, but as all twelve governors have voted --
i would advise you not to shout at the azkaban guards like that.
admirable sentiments. we shall all miss your highly individual way of running things, albus, and only hope your successor will manage to prevent any more, um, killin's. malfoy strides to the door and bows dumbledore out. fudge, fiddling with his bowler, waits for hagrid. instead, hagrid stands his ground, takes a deep breath and says carefully.
out of my way, potter. so! you've returned!
from the beginning, my only concern has been the welfare of this school and its students. i assume the culprit has been identified.
come, dobby. we're leaving. as dobby scuttles toward the door, lucius malfoy kicks him through it, then exits himself. harry stares at the empty doorway as dobby's painful squeals echo from the corridor.
mine? i don't know what you're talking about.
prove it! he turns away. as dobby looks sadly back, clutching the diary in his hand, harry mouths the words: open it. dobby looks down curiously. inside.  is a sock. he
what? i didn't -- he wheels, sees harry standing with one leg crossed: his right ankle is bare. instantly, malfoy charges forth.
you've lost me my servant!
mark my words, harry potter. you'll meet the same sticky end as your parents one of these days. they were meddlesome fools too. with that, he turns, storms off.