"How can you laugh at that?" demanded Harry of Ginny. "It's basically kiddie-porn!"

Ginny snorted attractively. "What, Harry – dare you deny the lesser-endowed person his fun?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Harry without thinking. Ginny put on an expression of mock horror, which pushed Harry to regroup. "Well, at least keep it in the same height group! I can't even begin to imagine the physics of Flitwick and Trelawney if...you know...UHH!" The shuddering returned.

"Fascist!" chuckled Ginny. She looked straight ahead, only to point quizzically at a foetal figure at the end of the corridor. "What is...is that Malfoy?"

Sure enough, as they drew nearer, Malfoy's silver-blond hair came into focus. He was sat, shivering heavily against the wall, his head buried in his lap, his hands gripping his knees so hard that his knuckles gleamed white. He did not seem to realise they were there.

"What's up, Twat-foy?" inquired Ginny, feigning sympathy, sympathy cleverly disguised by a sharp kick in his knees.

"Clever," Harry declared of her sterling choice of nickname.

"Why, thank you, my love; I certainly thought so," grinned Ginny. Meanwhile, the newly dubbed "Twat-foy" had not shown any acknowledgement that a thousand years of his pure-blood heritage had just been reduced to twattery by this turn of phrase, nor even that he had just been assaulted by a feisty ginger blood traitor. "What's up with him? Confunded or just generally retarded?"

Harry sniggered, especially proud of the effect his trick seemed to have had on his nemesis. "A bit of both – I made him walk in on Dumbledore and McGonagall...you know..."

At this point, as if jerked into reliving it, Malfoy let out a squeal not so unlike Dobby's suspicious little cries of pleasure every time he saw Harry.

"You're joking!" gaped Ginny. "What the hell's got into them all today? Fumbledore and McGonna-cum, imagine!" She trailed off dreamily, much to Harry's disturbance. "God, I'm good with names!" she added as an absent-minded afterthought. She turned to Harry: "Well, you've seen Dumbledore naked – what's left to do with your life?"

"I dunno," thought Harry. "Getting rid of Voldemort all seems so trivial now in comparison. Now I know there are far greater evils in the world!"

All of a sudden, his scar erupted with pain, a pain that came not from Lord Voldemort's extreme and hormonal mood swings, as Dumbledore had originally suspected, but rather from moments of acute physical pleasure. The connection forged, Harry plunged into the innermost depths of the Dark Lord's mind and was confronted with a scene that disturbed him more than anything he had seen in his life, more than anything he had witnessed today. Lucius Malfoy was strapped into a tight-fitting leather corset, dancing erotically, apparently for an onlooker's pleasure, while Nagini glided suggestively across his body.

Danger was coming, and so it seemed, thanks to such an extravagant imagination, was Voldemort.