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Hyperion has always been the perfect partner for Divination class, mostly because he gives a damn about the course. He is willing to do the whole job by himself, then offer Marcus a hand because he enjoys doing all this shit that much, and--more importantly--he has his priorities in the right direction. Even if it can be a bit overwhelming. Especially since Dumble-arse humiliated the House in front of the entire school. Now, Hyperbole comes out with a conspiracy against their kin and especially the quidditch club every fucking day, but…
“Dementors. To make Professor Snape crazy. To make us lose the cup. Seriously?”
“It all makes sense! First, he puts his favorite little mongrel on the Gryffindor team and refuses us our fair reward, then, he forces us to fi…”
Flint growls, and Hyperion skips that part out of self-preservation. Or impatience. He uses his wand to point at a red link between two photos on the dashboard, his face stretches in a scary grin. He's looking more like a maniac than usual.
“Distraction and more distraction! Professor Snape is less focused, so he can’t give enough attention to allow us to train and enact clever measures against Wood's plots. Don’t you see, Marc, isn’t it clear enough?”
Arms crossed, Marcus glances doubtfully at the dashboard, covered in indecipherable scrawls, multiple layers of photographs scurrying for attention and so many red crosses, rounds and scribbles. Almost unbearable. It's giving him the beginning of a headache.
“… Isn’t a bit too much even for Dumblequeer? I mean, dementors won’t be as nice as him for mudbloods and blood traitors. Or are you going to tell me he plans something else… ?”
Please, Hyperbole, don’t…
“In fact, I realized something by reading this article about the so-called Sirius Black. Of course, the article is shittier than the Weasleys' slums, but I found out the truth…”
He should have listened to Adrian. He should have burned every Quibbler in the castle. All of them.
“…and that’s why I think that’s an illusion…”
“… Hyperbole, Adrian’s twin siblings collapsed last week because of them. And they aren’t even Snakes.”
“And our dear Director cares about his non-Gryffindor students since… ?”
Marcus closes his mouth, and resigns himself. Dumbledumb would happily, recklessly endanger everyone for the glory of his precious Gryffbabies. There is no debating *that* point.