The summer before third year was moving along swimmingly. Draco, Blaise, Theo, and Adrian were in the Malfoys' living room discussing their new classes. All of them had signed up for Potions, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Care of Magical Creatures.

Draco and Blaise were also taking Divination and Ancient Runes while Theo and Adrian were taking Astronomy and Arithmancy.

"So," Blaise said, "what do you reckon Divination's like?"

"I don't know," Draco answered, "but it should be pretty easy. It's basically a guessing class."

"I'm starting to think I shouldn't have taken Astronomy," Theo said.

"Yeah," Draco said, "why'd you two take that anyway?"

"In all honesty," Adrian said, "I think we just kind of put down random classes."

"Can you imagine having to get up late at night for Astronomy?" Theo groaned. "We'd be dead tired before and after the class."

"You don't think it's too late to switch, do you?" Adrian asked.

"Probably," Blaise said, "unless you have some extremely good reason to switch."

"I don't."

"Then good luck, mate," Draco said. Turning to Blaise, he asked, "What about Ancient Runes? I don't think that's going to be a walk in the park."

"If it's anything like Italian, I'll be fine," Blaise said.

"I highly doubt that Ancient Runes is going to be like any internationally known language that people speak."

"Well, at least we're not taking Arithmancy."

"Okay," Adrian said, "we picked the worst classes. So what?"

"So you're screwed," Draco said.

"Thanks," Theo said. "Really appreciating the concern, here."

Just then, a brown owl flew in with The Daily Prophet. Drack untied it from his owl's leg and scooped out a knut from his pocket to place in the pouch tied to the owl's other leg.

"Anything interesting?" Theo asked.

Draco looked at the cover and read the headline before saying, "There's been an escape from Azkaban."

"What?" The other three gasped.

"Sirius Black. They think he's this big supporter of Voldemort, but Father's never mentioned him before."

"Draco, is that the post?" called a female's voice from the kitchen.

"Yes, Mother. You won't believe what's happened."

Narcissa Malfoy walked in from the kitchen, and hearing the commotion, Lucius Malfoy came down from his study.

"What is it?" Lucius asked.

"Sirius Black's broken out of Azkaban," Draco said, handing the paper to his father.

"Sirius Black?" Lucius repeated.

"Why, who is he?"

"Best friend of James Potter. Black and Potter were thick as thieves, and they were also close with Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew."

"Wormtail?" Blaise confirmed.

"Yes, Wormtail was a Gryffindor. He was faithful to the Dark Lord until Black allegedly killed him. While the whole wizarding world believes that Black betrayed James and Lily Potter to the Dark Lord, it was actually Wormtail. I suppose Black killed him because he was furious with him."

Only Draco's three friends knew about what had happened to Lucius Malfoy a decade and a half ago, and Draco had forbidden them to tell their parents. They knew that the Malfoys' did not truly support Voldemort, and neither did the families of Draco's friends, except for Theo's father.

"Why, and more improtantly, how did he break out?" Draco asked.

"No one knows how," Lucius said, "but they all say he's broken out to kill Harry Potter."

"That obviously isn't true."

"Yes, but they don't know that."

"We're not telling them, Father, if that's what you're asking."

"Draco, you can't say anything about anything. I must warn you all that the Dark Lord will be returning very soon and that it is best that you act as if you hate Potter's guts."

"That's not going to be hard."

"Even more so, give Potter and his friends a reason to hate you. This way they will forget about what you've done in the past two years."

"Can't I just wipe their memories?"

"Draco," Narcissa said, "that is N.E.W.T level magic."

"Right."

"Well, we will leave you boys. By the way, we're going to Diagon Alley Tomorrow."

"Great."

Once Draco's parents had left, Draco said to his friends, "Hating Potter's not going to be difficult at all. Remember how Granger lied about me knocking out the troll in our first year?"

The other boys nodded. "Also last year," Adrian said, "didn't they leave you alone in the Chamber of Secrets? Plus, you saved Granger's life twice in the two years."

"See what I mean? They're horrible, nosy, stuck-up Gryffindors. Stubborn too, I might add."

"They're not all bad," Blaise said. "What about Finnigan and Thomas?"

"Finnigan's a half-blood and Thomas is a Mudblood."

"Draco," Blaise warned.

"You have to get used to saying it," Theo told him. "One day, we'll all become Death Eaters because I've got a feeling that Moldy Voldie's stickin' around for a while."

Snorting at Theo's name for the creature, Draco said, "Good thing he's not back yet, or he'd've Avadad you for that."

"By the way," Adrian said, "my father said that Professor Kettleburn, the former Care of Magical Creatures professor, retired. Who d'you reckon it's going to be this year?"

"Father said that Dumbledore picked the gamekeeper, Hagrid," Draco said.

"Of course," Blaise said, "that makes sense. Who else would assign The Monster Book of Monsters?"

"The what?" Theo asked.

"You'll find out soon."

Draco did indeed find out. After packing away all of his other supplies after returning from Diagon Alley the next day, he took his new monster book in hand. Unfastening the belt that was tied around it for whatever reason, he opened it only to have it roar and snap at him.

He quickly dropped the book and hopped backwards as the book snappingly approached him. Draco stepped back and next thing he knew, the only things keeping him from falling out the window were his legs, tightly hanging onto the window pane as the rest of the boy's body dangled out the window.

"Bloody hell, I'm screwed," Draco muttered to himself as his legs slipped a bit, dropping him a centimeter.

Draco tilted his head to see how far up he was. He was on the third floor and with a five meter ceiling in every room on the first floor except the small bathroom and main kitchen (neither of which were below Draco's room) three meter high ceilings in every room in the second floor, and the window Draco was hanging out of a meter high...

"Brilliant! I'm about nine meters away from my iminent death."

So all Draco could do was hang as the monstrous book hungrily growled at his feet (or below his feet since if it was at his feet, Draco would cease to have feet).

Finally, Draco's legs gave way and he was tumbling through the air.

What's that spell, what's that spell? Draco wondered. And like in all miracles, Draco thought of Aresto Momentum right before he hit the ground...

...but he wasn't fast enough to say it. He only had time to place his left arm under him so that it would protect the rest of body from damage.

Needless to say, Draco ended up in St. Mungo's anyway. Thus, his hating scheme began. He didn't know why, but in order to get the Gryffindors to hate him, he had to get Hagrid sacked...

...or whatever would work. He couldn't really think about anything except for the disgusting taste of the potion he was drinking.