Her hair sparked with anger as she felt Tom stiffen. How dare he? His entire perception of Tom was based on the image his revered Headmaster had painted for him. Brief snippets of Dumbledore’s preconceived notions, tainted by the prejudice he allowed to cloud his every interaction. She opened her mouth to speak when a hand landed on her wand arm in warming. Taking a deep breath, she attempted to loosen the white-knuckle grip she had on the piece of yew wood.