#dialogue draft

Abraxas Malfoy (being an insufferable know-it-all): Actually, it’s not called champagne because it’s not from the French town of champagne. This is just sparkling wine—

Harry: Alright and by that logic you’re not a wanker because you’re not from the French town of Wanquer, so that makes you sparkling fuckwit.

Tom:

Tom (to hissing to Harry): I can’t take you anywhere—

Harry (hissing back): It’s not a pussy because it’s not from the French town of Poosay, it’s just a sparkling cunt.

Harry (left) Tom (right):

Harry (to Tom): Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I want to be mediocre as you call it? That perhaps my greatest ambition is to be average? An utter nobody?

Tom: That doesn’t make any bloody sense. No one wants to be no one.

Harry: I do. So I guess I’m no one.

Tom: … If you have no ambition how are you in Slytherin?

Harry (shrugging): Ambition to do nothing is still ambition, at least according to the Sorting Hat.

Tom: That’s a oxymoron.

Tom (to Harry): People are especially stupid today, I’m not talking to any more of them.

Harry: You’re talking to me…?

Tom: Yes, but you’re not Malfoy.

Harry: Ah, is Abraxas getting on your nerves?

Tom: Yes.

Harry (laughing): Why don’t you do something about it?

Tom: I could curse him.

Harry: Oh no, not that. Too obvious.

Tom: Then what do you suggest?

Harry: I would vanish one sock from each pair he has in his trunk, so there are no matching sets, then repair the mismatched socks. It’d drive him bloody mad and he’d definitely be late to class tomorrow—

Tom (laughing): That’s perfect!

Harry (grinning): And the best part no one could prove you did it!

-tomorrow morning-

Abraxas Malfoy: Where the bloody hell are all my socks? Who’s been messing with my trunk and mismatching my socks?!

Thaddeus Nott: What are you talking about? No one touches your socks but the house elves.

Abraxas: Then why are they mixed up?!

Harry: Maybe the house elves are staging a coup?

Abraxas: Don’t be ridiculous, Evans, they’re not that smart!

Tom (to Harry): If the fates hadn’t wanted me to commit fatherless behavior, they would given my mother better taste in men. So if you’ll excuse me, Harry, I have places to be—

*Tom visiting Harry in the infirmary*

Tom (blunt as hell): Do you have an eating disorder?

Harry: What?

Tom: Madame Bones said you were in here because you’ve been refusing to take your nutrient potions and I’ve never seen you eat. You aren’t anemic are you?

Harry: No I’m not. I eat. And I’m not in here for skipping my nutrient potions. I had an allergic reaction to a sleeping draft.

Tom: You’re allergic to sleeping potions?

Harry: Apparently. Hence the infirmary.

Tom: Why were you taking a sleeping potion? Nightmares?

Harry: It’s none of your business why. And no, I can handle the nightmares. It’s the insomnia that’s difficult.

Tom: You’re an insomniac? Is that why you go to bed so early?

Harry: What’s with all the bloody questions, Riddle? Why are you here?

Tom: I’m checking up on my housemate.

Harry: Well, I’m fine. There, you’ve done your due diligence, so you can go.

Tom: Nah, I don’t think I will—

Harry: Why not?

Tom: Because my being here pisses you off too much…It’s entertaining.

Harry (pointing at the door): Get out before I hex you!

Tom: Madame Bones says you’re not allowed to do magic—

Harry: I don’t need magic to kick your arse!

Harry: Can you pass me the…uh the…the thing?

Theodore: What thing? This?

Harry: No the…the thing. That thing! The uh…mouth shovel—

Theodore: You mean the spoon?!

Harry: Yeah! That!

Tom: Did you forget the word for spoon? Wait what did you call it?!

Harry: It’s been a long day, Riddle, get off my back!

*Harry yoinking Tom’s Gaunt Ring 💍 & using the Resurrection stone to summon Tom’s mum*

Harry: Merope come get your son before I put him through a wall—

*Undersecretary Gaunt watches his daughter Delphini get bullied*

Gaunt (to Delphi): Hey what was that? Why didn’t you fight back?

Delphi: You told me to strive for verbal resolution.

Gaunt: Fuck verbal resolution! Here’s what you do, Delphi, you put that bitch on her back. You put her on her back and you gut her, understand? If someone comes at you, you put them and their whole family in the morgue. Otherwise you’re going to find yourself getting sold for a packet of cigarettes and stick of chewing gum, understand? Always answer violence with violence.

Delphi:… okay, daddy.

*Delphi proceeds to break a little ballerina’s arm*