You know how I've been writing this HP epic?

Draco appeared at his elbow. "Is this man bothering you?" he said.

"Yes," said Dudley. "Yes, he does bother me."

"What seems to be the problem, Muggle?" Draco said, blinked and corrected himself, "Man."

"Fuck off, you cocksucking son of a bastard...." But that's as far as Bofforth got when he was interrupted by a hiss, a puff and a cloud of exploding purple fumes, and reduced to a pile of oozing slime on the floor. A lone curl of smoke arose from the mess.

"Whoa," said Draco and jumped backwards, hands and wand in recoil position.

Dudley bent over the heap of slush, no bigger than a dalmatian's turd, and stared.

"Didn't know I still had that in me." Draco looked at his wand from both sides and smiled a smile of satisfaction.

"Holy fucking shit," yelled Dudley. "What d'you do to him? That was Bofforth the Bulldog!"

"Was it?" Draco blew on his wand and tucked it away.

"What the fuck d'you do to him? You can't do that to people!"

"Well, I can. See for yourself. I wasn't sure I could but..."

"I don't mean you can't as in you are not able. I can see that you are able! But you can't as in you shouldn't!"

"Why not? He was a piece of slime before I showed him up for one."

Dudley stopped for a moment. A ghost of a grin cracked the corners of his lips but he caught himself. "You just can't. Turn him back. What is this, anyway? Is this illusion? Or is this for real?"

Draco examined the tops of his fingernails. "Prestidigitation, I believe," he said.