"Once again, the chosen one seems entirely uninformed. Sea levels have always been a magical problem, Potter. Who do you think controls the ocean? The muggle climatists?" an aristocratic voice drawled from the doorway. Hermione was grateful for the breeze the swinging door made, given that sweat had begun to prickle at her neck. She muttered "climatologists" under her breath, as she recognized the pompous, arrogant voice instantly, even though she hadn’t heard it in quite some time. The man checking his watch looked quite put–out by the entrance of Draco Malfoy (as did Hermione, though she was confident that it was for different reasons). 