"Yeah, it sort of is," Harry says, grinning. "Dumbledore was a headmaster once, before he left to found the Order. Long before our time. When Ron and Ginny and I were there with Malfoy, the head was an awful little man named Dippet." His voice roughens. For the first time, Hermione begins to see echoes of his demonic heritage, evident in the hellfire darkening his eyes to emerald. "Malfoy – he hates me. He hates me for standing up to him. He ruled Hogwarts the moment he stepped foot in it, because nobody could get enough of the Devil’s son – except me. I turned down his offer of friendship, and he spent the next five years of our lives making it... well, making it hell."