Chapter 36: Old Grudges and Broken Wands
"Ron, I haven't asked yet," Douglas said suddenly."Who were you trying to hit with the Slug-Vomiting Charm before it backfired?"
The moment the question left his mouth, Ron's face turned scarlet. He clenched his teeth but said nothing.
Harry looked as though he might burst out laughing, but he didn't dare. With a chicken foot still in his mouth, his face had turned bright red—partly from the spice, partly from trying not to laugh.
Hermione stuck out her tongue slightly and said bluntly,
"It was Malfoy. Because he called me a 'Mudblood.' Ron rushed him immediately."
She shrugged.
"I didn't even know what it meant at first, but it certainly sounded unpleasant."
Ron lifted his head and said angrily,
"It's a disgusting word. Everyone was furious."
"Mudblood is a slur for people born to Muggle families."
"Some wizard families—like the Malfoys—think they're superior because they're 'pure-blood.'"
He wiped sweat from his forehead and continued, still breathing hard.
"It's a horrible name. It means someone with dirty, inferior blood."
"But most wizards today are half-bloods anyway."
"If people hadn't married Muggles, we'd have gone extinct centuries ago!"
Then he looked toward Douglas.
"Professor… you should punish those Slytherins."
Harry leaned toward him and whispered quickly,
"Ron… Professor Holmes is Muggle-born too."
At that moment Hagrid suddenly slammed his hand on the table.
He glanced at Hermione, then at Douglas.
"That reminds me of something."
Douglas merely shrugged. He already knew where the story was going.
Hagrid leaned back and addressed the three younger students.
"What you went through today happened years ago as well."
"And I remember Douglas and Bill sending a group of Slytherin boys who had just been released from the hospital wing…"
"…straight back into it."
He burst out laughing.
Then he turned to Hermione with a reassuring smile.
"So don't let it bother you too much."
"You should know—there's hardly a spell Hermione Granger can't cast."
"And look at Douglas. He's Muggle-born too, and he's doing just fine."
Douglas remembered the incident clearly.
It had nearly driven Professor Snape mad.
The situation itself had been simple.
Not long after a heated House rivalry incident, several Slytherins whom Douglas had already sent to the hospital wing came looking for trouble the moment they were discharged.
They found him in the orchard behind the greenhouses and challenged him to a private duel.
Douglas had already gotten into trouble once and had no desire to be expelled.
But the Slytherin boys were not particularly interested in restraint.
They hurled insults at him—calling him a Mudblood who should stick to shoveling dirt.
Douglas had known it was an insult.
But having grown up in rural northern communities in his previous life, he found their insults almost… weak.
If he had cursed back in his old language, he could have angered eighteen generations of their ancestors.
Douglas himself didn't care.
Bill did.
Standing beside him, Bill's expression darkened instantly.
A flash of green light erupted from his wand.
Seeing that, Douglas drew his own wand as well.
Together they sent the Slytherins—who had only just left the hospital wing—straight back to it.
When Professors McGonagall, Sprout, and Snape rushed to the scene, that was exactly what they found.
Students from both sides injured again.
To preserve order at Hogwarts and avoid escalation, the professors issued punishments to both sides.
Thirty points deducted from each House.
Detention for everyone involved.
The Slytherins who had started it were hospitalized again.
Bill and Douglas were punished for fighting.
From the professors' perspective, it was the cleanest solution.
The insult had been unpleasant, but Snape had no intention of provoking powerful pure-blood families over a single word.
After all, during his own school days he had moved within Lucius Malfoy's social circle.
In the eyes of most adults, equal punishment was the easiest way to settle the matter.
But Douglas had not been satisfied with that.
Just as the professors were preparing to leave, he had spoken up.
"But no one has told me what 'Mudblood' actually means."
"Why did Bill get so angry when they said it?"
"Why do Slytherin students think I'm one?"
"Was it you, Professor Snape, who taught them that word?"
"So you believe I'm a Mudblood too?"
"Is it simply because I'm Muggle-born?"
"Why don't students from the other Houses use that word?"
"Are Mudbloods forbidden from being friends with pure-bloods or half-bloods?"
He had spoken calmly.
His voice steady.
Yet every sentence contained that word.
Mudblood.
Bill had felt the atmosphere shift immediately.
He tugged urgently at Douglas's sleeve, trying to silence him.
Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout both looked as though they might cry.
They seemed to hear years of resentment hidden in those calm words.
Both of them decided on the spot that neither Douglas nor Bill would receive further punishment.
They would not allow the boys to suffer any additional injustice.
But before either professor could speak—
Snape reacted.
His already pale face turned even whiter.
Powerful magic began to ripple around him.
His black hair whipped behind him, and his robes fluttered as though caught in a storm.
McGonagall and Sprout instantly drew their wands, shielding the two boys behind them.
Snape did nothing.
He simply roared:
"You! Will! Not! Say that word again!"
Then he turned and strode away without another word.
Douglas had felt an invisible force clamp down on his voice, preventing him from speaking further.
Later he heard what had happened to those Slytherin boys.
The day they left the hospital wing, they attended Potions class.
Snape had required them to drink the potions they had brewed themselves.
Unfortunately for them, the potions had been brewed incorrectly.
The result was a toxic mixture so severe that even Snape struggled to treat it.
They were sent directly to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and remained there for a full month.
First Douglas and Bill had sent them to the hospital wing.
Then their own potion had sent them to the hospital.
Douglas remembered offering them a moment of silent sympathy.
Very sincere sympathy.
Back in Hagrid's hut, the conversation had moved on.
Harry and Ron were still offering Hermione examples meant to reassure her.
Hermione, overwhelmed by the praise, had turned red all the way to her ears.
Douglas didn't bother comforting her.
He knew Hermione well enough to know she wouldn't dwell on it for long.
Still, the meaning of that word had changed over the years.
During Voldemort's rise to power, being called a Mudblood was no longer merely an insult.
It was a death sentence.
Voldemort's followers believed Muggle-born witches and wizards were thieves who had stolen magic.
Death Eaters hunted them relentlessly.
In those years, if someone labeled you a Mudblood, you might become the next target.
Now, more than a decade after Voldemort's disappearance, most people had forgotten that fear.
Yet the word remained hated—even among many pure-blood families.
In a wizarding world filled with Muggle-borns and half-bloods, almost everyone had friends whose bloodline was mixed.
Douglas returned to the present.
He realized he had been staring at Ron.
Ron shifted uncomfortably and slowly set down the chicken foot he had been eating.
He forced a nervous laugh.
"This stuff is really good. I might be getting addicted."
"Haha… ahaha…"
"Professor… if you've got something to say, you can just say it."
"You're scaring me, staring like that."
Douglas coughed lightly and came back to himself.
"Ahem. I heard your wand is broken."
"Let me see it."
Ron immediately relaxed.
He pulled the wand from his pocket and handed it over, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
Douglas examined it.
Then he glanced back at Ron with disbelief.
The wand was wrapped in tape.
When Douglas removed the tape, the wand nearly fell into two pieces.
He stared at it.
Frankly, he had no idea how Ron had survived using a wand like this for an entire semester.
"Ron," Douglas said slowly,
"If I remember correctly… this used to belong to Charlie."
"Twelve inches. Ash wood."
"Unicorn tail hair."
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