[AN]: My sincerest apologies; this is actually not a new chapter. I recently decided to split the previous two chapters into two. This was actually how it was in the beginning, but now I can't remember why I combined them. However, Gelassenheit's review gave me a reason to stick with the initial plan. So, thank you Gelassenheit, and I'm really sorry everyone.


When Draco woke up the next morning, the first thing he realised was that he felt just a little better than he had been in the past few sleepless months. He hadn't had much sleep last night either, of course, but he had slept for some time, at least. But what he wouldn't give to remain asleep in his bed for the rest of the week...

At breakfast in the Great Hall, Malfoy looked up at the ceiling trying to remember how he managed to fall asleep earlier than usual last night, but his mind remained as dull as the sky above him. He thought he had caught a grasp on the answer when he heard Goyle say, "-have you heard the story?" but lost that grasp at the sentence which followed immediately, "Tell them, Malfoy!" and Draco found several faces looking up at him expectantly. What story? The girl who fell down the rabbit hole?

It was Pansy who cleared him of his confusion when she said to the group in general, "-he was so scared, he actually fainted!"

Ah. So they were talking about the little incident on the train. Remembering cheered Draco up considerably; nothing like spreading the story about Saint Potter fainting at the sight of a Dementor to start the first day of term. Potter walked into the Hall just as he got to the part of the story where The Boy Who Lived passed out like the pitiful wizard he really was; Draco acted out the fainting part and it earned him a roar of laughter from his audience.

He may not know the true reasons for which he had been losing sleep over a certain bushy-haired Mudblood, but for his loathing of The Boy Who Wouldn't Die, Draco did. And it's because he was Harry sodding Potter.

Really, how could anyone even think that a little baby had brought down the darkest wizard of all time by his wee little self? And then that same baby went on to isolate himself, growing up away from the Wizarding World only to return to bask in the glory that was never his, strutting around wearing that ridiculous scar like a bloody trophy from some epic battle he did not win! And this same boy had the audacity to refuse his allegiance, a pureblooded Malfoy, yet still people continued to worship that so-called hero!

Draco Malfoy hated Harry Potter with a passion.

He was still thinking about this as he sat in his first class that morning, Arithmancy, the bushy mane of Hermione Granger distracting him largely from Professor Vector's lecture.

Really, what did she see in that Potter boy? Can't she realise how inadequate he is, compared to a pureblooded Malfoy like him? Draco shook his head to get out of it; he would render himself inadequate, questioning these things about some unworthy Mudblood. Tearing his eyes off of her form sitting at the front, he succeeded to bring his focus back to the subject at hand. He always does.

After lunch, Draco set off on the damp grass of the castle grounds with Crabbe and Goyle for their next lesson, Care of Magical Creatures. He simply couldn't fathom how Dumbledore dared let the oaf Hagrid teach the subject. Really, what was the doddering old fool thinking? Draco only agreed most heartily with his father; Hogwarts would be a much better school without Dumbledore as headmaster. He was already taken off of the position last year too, if only Saint Potter hadn't stepped in and acted all heroic again.

The class met Hagrid outside his hut and then followed him to an empty paddock located near the very edge of the Forest. "Everyone gather round the fence here!" the giant called. "That's it – make sure yeh can see. Now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books-"

Not only they couldn't understand half of the things he says, he had listed an actual monster of a book as the set textbook for his subject, and then expected them to be able to handle the books when obviously there was no way to go about doing that without first losing an arm.

Draco was still irritated with the fact that that lout had begun teaching classes ("Really, that oaf teaching classes. This place is going to the dogs!"), until he saw Hagrid emerge from the other side of the paddock with a dozen of the most bizarre creatures Draco had ever seen.

They looked like the progeny of a horse and a giant falcon; their hind parts were that of the former, with hair and hooves, while their heads were covered in gleaming feathers, with wings and beaks like those of giant birds of prey. The talons on their front legs were steel-coloured and deadly-looking. Seeing Hippogriffs in the flesh felt very different from merely seeing pictures of them in books, as Draco had. In fact he was very fascinated by them, he silently agreed with Hagrid when the oaf said they were 'beau'iful', although he wouldn't consent to approaching any of the beasts when Hagrid asked for a volunteer.

Quite unsurprisingly, Saint Potter announced that he was up for it. Draco sneered at him as Potter climbed over the paddock fence. He even sent prayers to the heavens that Potter be killed in his bravado.

But Potter didn't wound up being killed; instead, he got treated to a ride on the stormy grey Hippogriff, one lap around the paddock. It set Draco's teeth on edge; again Potter received a great cheer for something he had done quite effortlessly.

Setting his jaw, Draco climbed over the fence and approached the grey Hippogriff that Potter had just rode; Hagrid must have chosen that one for the Golden Boy because it was the least dangerous. So Draco did exactly as Potter had, bowing low and never losing eye-contact. The beast sank onto one knee under Draco's determination, and so he felt safe to proceed and patted its beak.

"This is very easy," Draco drawled, with every intention to have Potter hear him. "I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it," he went on, patting it with disdain. It was easy, just that Potter was the one with the foolish Gryffindor bravery to decide and did it first.

"I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" Draco said to the Hippogriff. "Are you, you great ugly brute?"

Then Draco only had time to scream before the beast knocked him onto the ground, and there was a bleeding gash on his arm. He had never seen that much blood flow out of him that he panicked. "I'm dying!" was all he managed to yell. "I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"

"Yer not dyin'!" he heard the giant say before he felt himself lifted off ground.