"It is not unheard of for the sword to be pulled from the hat in moments of great need and circumstances of valour," Dumbledore answered contemplatively, "though I have never heard of a member of Slytherin house calling the sword forth thus. I sometimes wonder if we sort too early," he mused. Draco found himself grinding his teeth, the fury in his chest building upon itself, "Now, I believe this brings us neatly to our next topic," Draco’s eyes flicked nervously to the portraits above them, all of them, down to the last man, awake and watching them with rapt attention, "Ah, do not concern yourself with our audience - they are bound to the will of the headmaster, and I demand their discretion," Draco looked away from them reluctantly, "Now - Severus has informed me of your... ah, shall we call it your "run in’ with time travel?" Draco’s nod was small and jerky, "I bring this up, only to reassure you of my resolve to keep this matter a secret, now and until my dying day,"