A/N: A number of Dumbledore's and Hagrid's lines are from canon. There's also a Homestuck reference

"...my family never took a side in the war, but after learning about electricity in Muggle Studies, I confess that I developed a fascination with both muggles and muggleborns. One would think that muggles would wither away without magic, and it amazed me to see the way that they flourished. I was convinced that the division between our two societies hindered more than it helped…"

Callidus may have been accustomed to the sight of the Great Hall, with its enchanted ceiling bedecked in stars, and the innumerable candles floating above them, and yet, returning to this Hall after two months of absence caused a feeling of warmth to unspool within him, radiating from his chest out to his limbs. When was it, that Hogwarts became his home? Because despite the welcome of the Filodoxos, this place was was his true home.

The students sat down at their respective tables, facing the Head Table near to where the first years would be sorted. As the tiny students emerged, eyes as wide as quaffles and black pointed hats sitting ever so properly upon their heads, Callidus thought that they looked smaller than ever. The muggleborns were made obvious by the bald wonder on their faces, and their gaping mouths. He could hear some of the older students speculating and betting on would-be Slytherins, based on the first years' poise and self-control. And considering that Slytherin was the House of purebloods and power, those bets were no small amount ("Ten galleons on the dark-haired girl, over there." "Hmmpt, the Greengrass girl? If anything, it'd be a shock if she wasn't in Slytherin!")

But more interesting than the first years were the faces that sat at the Head Table, some of whom would be his professors for his new subjects. There was Septima Vector, a thin woman with the long black hair, garbed in red robes who taught Arithmancy; as well as Bathsheda Babbling, another woman with brown hair, an airy fringe, and a dreamy expression on her face who taught Ancient Runes. Only one figure at the table was completely unfamiliar; a man with pale skin, light brown hair, and a wistful look in his eyes. For a moment, Callidus thought he spotted the gleam of white scars across the man's face, but the Head Table was distant enough that he couldn't be certain. The man's eyes strayed towards the Slytherin table and he smiled, and when Callidus followed his gaze, he saw that the man was smiling at Harry and Harry was smiling back. This must be their defense professor, the one that Harry had already met.

His study of the professors was interrupted by the final sorting, and then, Dumbledore was on his feet, arms spread wide as his sonorous voice announced: "Welcome!" His dazzling robes were the colour of a sunset - no, that wasn't quite right - in fact, his robes depicted a sunset, hazy blues fading into soft pinks and purples, as languid clouds drifted across his chest and sleeves.

"Merlin," he heard Draco groan, "he's saying something embarrassing, isn't he. The man's completely cracked -" just as Dumbledore brightly finished with: "Zillyhoo!"

And then, heaping mounds of delectable food appeared upon the golden plates. The sheen of the gold matched the rest of the Great Hall beautifully, of course, but it was still a reminder of Gryffindor hegemony. Nonetheless, it was impossible to feel any rancor when he was surrounded by friends. As the students ate, the hall filled with the rising and falling cadence of excited voices, and he could hear Pansy gleefully exposing their various acquaintances who had made fools of themselves over the summer, bringing shame upon their Houses ("- and that tart, Regan Riverrun, who is far too young to be permitted to attend Ministry functions - honestly, the nerve! - ended up wearing a robe of spider silk that was so delicate and fine that when she tripped on it, it ripped clean in half, and of course, no one wears anything underneath formal robes because it would ruin the lines -")

In a blur of stories and expressions, colours and flavours, time bolted past them, and soon the last of their pudding was being taken away. Dumbledore stood up once again to give his usual speech, largely for the benefit of the first years and troublemakers (Weasleys, obviously), before moving on to other news.

"I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year. First, Professor Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

The applause for Professor Lupin was largely perfunctory, with the exception of Harry, who wore a face splitting grin.

"His robes are dreadfully shabby, aren't they," Greengrass remarked, earning a glare from Harry.

"As to our second new appointment, well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on this teaching job in addition to his gamekeeping duties."

Callidus lifted his eyebrows in muted surprise, but Harry and Draco were staring at one another in open shock. After all, both of them were taking Care of Magical Creatures, whilst Callidus wasn't. The applause for Hagrid was far more exuberant, especially from the Gryffindor table.

"I should have guessed based on the biting book," Draco said, his applause subdued but sincere. "Do you suppose this means we'll spend our classes studying Norberta? I certainly hope so."

Harry merely flashed a blinding grin, and they turned their attention back to Hagrid who was wiping his eyes on the tablecloth. Then, Dumbledore announced that it was time for bed, and Harry quickly shot up, tugging at Callidus's and Draco's sleeves.

"C'mon! We should congratulate Hagrid. I can't believe he didn't tell me anything over the summer."

They made their way towards the teachers' table, words of congratulations spilling brightly from Harry's mouth, causing the half-giant's eyes to water rather dangerously. Callidus felt his face growing warm, seeing a grown man wearing his emotions so openly. He had been closer to Hagrid in his first year, but they had drifted apart in his second. Draco, on the other hand, had spent far more time with the gamekeeper.

"Your appointment is well deserved," Draco said, graciously. "If not for you, Hogwarts would never have had the prestige of their own dragon. I look forward to your classes, Hagrid."

Two years ago, the polished words would have thrown Hagrid off balance - perhaps he might have even suspected mockery - but the half-giant didn't even falter for a second.

"S'all down ter you," Hagrid said, still wiping his eyes on the tablecloth, a sight which didn't even cause Draco to flinch. It occurred to Callidus in that moment that out of all them, he felt the most out of place. But then, Professor Slughorn bustled up to them, rounded belly leading the way, as he jovially said: "Off to bed, m'boys, off to bed!"

They allowed themselves to be herded down to the dungeons, the three of them warmed and sated by good food, and good friends. And if Callidus felt any unease, he did not give thought or voice to them.

-o-

"What's on your schedule?" Harry peered over Draco's shoulder to look at the sheet of parchment that Slughorn had just handed them at breakfast. "Hmm, I've got Ancient Runes with Cal, then we have Care of Magical Creatures later today, and you have Arithmancy with Cal tomorrow? I was never any good at maths -"

Draco rolled his eyes. "If you are already going to look, I don't know why you had to ask." He glanced at Harry's own schedule. "You have a free period that block. Plans?"

"I might go down to the chamber. Oh! I still have to show you two the alternate entrance."

Draco nodded fervently. "We can do that this evening."

"I did a lot more cleaning over the summer, and transfigured some more furniture -"

"You should've waited! You filled the whole space with squishy sofas and pillows, didn't you."

"My furniture's nice! Besides, I like pillows -"

Before the two of them could devolve into full-fledged bickering, Callidus stood. "We should go. We'll need time to find our new classes."

Both Harry and Draco gave him mutinous looks, but Slytherins were competitive about House points, and none of them wanted to lose any for being late. Fortunately, Slytherins looked out for their own, and with the aid of a pair of sixth years Callidus and Harry climbed up to the fourth floor, along the confusing twists, turns, and loops of what was aptly named the Perplexing Passage towards the classroom. Professor Babbling was already at her desk, but didn't even bother to spare them a glance as they entered. Instead, she was hunched over her desk, her quill zipping across her parchment with remarkable speed, lips moving as she mouthed silent words.

They were among the first to arrive, and as they glanced over the desks, they spotted the bushy brown hair of Hermione, who smiled and lifted her hand in a wave. Harry, who wasn't as close to Hermione as Callidus was and didn't have the threat of malignant fifth (now sixth) years hanging over his head, cracked a crooked grin, and sat in the desk immediately behind her despite the fact that it was near the front of the class.

Letting Harry dominate the conversation with questions to Hermione about the summer holidays, Callidus examined the surrounding space. Like most of the other classrooms, one wall was covered by a set of pristine black boards. On the rest of the walls were long strips of parchment, running horizontal across the room. It reminded him of his muggle primary school, where the alphabet (in upper and lowercase), was taped up to the walls to teach students how to write. Only, instead of consonants and vowels, it showed symbols, some of which were so vastly different that it was clear that the runes came from a wide range of civilizations.

Soon, the bell that chimed the beginning of class rang, and Babbling visibly started. In front of them, Hermione straightened, as if the bell had turned her spine into a metal rod, blank parchment on her desk, and quill already poised.

"Well name me Chelone," Babbling said, causing the third years to exchange mystified glances. Fortunately, they weren't the only ones who were mystified - remarkably, Babbling shared the expression as well. "How time flees before me. From your minute statues, I can only surmise that your minds are yet like the open seas - or should I say the primeval abyss? No, seas would be more apt - full of deep mysteries yet unbound. Wouldn't want to imply that your minds are gaping chasms of nothingness, would I? Likely isn't even true, I should hope. Which means you're waiting for the Earth Diver (commonly known to the Finno-Ugric sorcerers) to seek out the sands that lie at the bottom of those endless waters, to be scattered into islands of knowledge, and I can only hope to find fertile soil in which our symbols can be planted."

She was interrupted by the entrance of one of the Hufflepuffs (Ernie Macmillian, Callidus thought), who was huffing out of breath, crying out: "M'sorry, Professor! I got lost in that weird five-way split in the Perplexing Passage."

Babbling blinked at Macmillan, and to the shock of the entire class, she didn't dock House points, instead saying: "It's important to bear in mind that knowledge exists not in isolation, but like the great interwoven strands of the Fate, or as the Daoist magicians would say, the One, which is natural, spontaneous, eternal, nameless, and indescribable. It is at once the beginning of all things and the way in which all things pursue their course."

Callidus and Harry shared another look. In front of them, Hermione was frantically scribbling away, trying to capture every word that was coming out of Babbling's mouth, and yet nothing she said seemed to make sense. As Callidus surreptitiously glanced at the other students, he could see that they were just as confused, except for one of the Ravenclaws, who was as eager to take down notes as Hermione.

The rest of the class proceeded in this strange manner, Babbling living up to her name by essentially babbling the entire class. Nothing she said made any sense, until near the very end, when Babbling made mention of the Greek Muses, Pythagoras, and symbolism, and he began to gain a small inkling of the method behind Babbling's madness. He wasn't sure if he was in any way correct, or if he was merely grasping at straws.

By the time the long lecture was over, the entire class stood up, glazed eyes attesting to their confusion, as they shuffled out of the classroom, with Babbling's voice still echoing in their minds in a torrent of nonsensical syllables.

Harry's expression was pained as he walked along the curved corridor. "That was - did you understand any of that, Cal? Hermione?"

Hermione bit down on her lower lip. "Well, she spent most of the class talking about the myths and beliefs of different cultures around the world. Honestly, notetaking was hard enough, and it was all I could do to keep up with her stream of - well -" she worried her lower lips yet again. "This is nothing like our other classes. She didn't even take roll call! I'd say that I'm not quite sure she knows what she's doing only - I had a feeling -"

"- that she was trying to embed knowledge in a wider context?" Callidus finished.

Hermione's eyes widened. "You thought that too?"

"What are you two talking about?"

"We think that Professor Babbling was trying to explain the nature of Ancient Runes through symbology and myths," Hermione explained to Harry.

"Erm -"

"Ancient Runes are related to languages," Callidus clarified.

"Okay -"

"And language is ultimately symbolism -"

"Er -"

"And these symbols - that is, language itself - can't be separated from the context in which it exists. And Babbling -"

"Professor Babbling -" Hermione corrected.

"And Professor Babbling" (Callidus rolled his eyes), "was trying to give us the greater context of the various runes by explaining the mythology from which they have arisen. The only problem is, she hasn't explained the myths themselves. She speaks as if she assumes we already know. Which -"

"Which what?"

"Which means that if the class continues this way, we'll have to do a great deal of extra work to understand the myths themselves. Though I own, the choice of course books suddenly makes a great deal of sense."

Harry groaned, while Hermione's eyes lit up with a glow of inner light, and for a moment, even without the magic sight, Callidus could almost see the halo of magic looping and arcing around her head, ardently soaking up knowledge.

"I don't think I'm ready for this class," Harry admitted, lips drawn downwards.

"I don't think you're alone in that sentiment," Callidus answered.

"S'too late to switch now."

"We can help each other," Hermione decided. "Oh! I need to get to my next class before I'm late! I'll see you later, Callidus, Harry." And without waiting for them to reply, she hurried off, bushy hair following like tendrils of mist behind her.

Once she was gone, Harry turned back to Callidus. "This isn't going to be an easier, is it -"

"We survived someone trying to kill us in first year, and survived the backlash of the brotherhood ritual in our second. Next to that, I imagine classes should be -"

"Don't say easy -" Harry growled.

"Surmountable?"

Harry ran his fingers through his hair, causing it to stick up in wayward angles. "I should'a just taken Divination," he muttered, "useless or not."

Callidus felt his lips twitching up in a smirk, but despite their light tone of voice, the slump of Harry's shoulders suggested the he was more disheartened than Callidus had realized, and he felt a rising worry. He chewed the inside of his cheek as he tried to find the words that would reassure his friend. Yes, Ancient Runes was more overwhelming than he could have imagined, but like Hermione, Callidus hungered for knowledge. Harry, on the other hand, was far more pragmatic, valuing what he could use. What would make Harry feel better? Suddenly it struck him.

"Do you recall first year, when you are disinclined to read anything except stories, like those relating to Merlin?"

"Erm - yeah? So?"

"So, Ancient Runes uses two course books. One of which explains the runes, and the other - well, it's largely myths."

"And?"

"And myths are just stories. I'm guessing you haven't even cracked open our books?"

"I was busy with Sirius!"

Callidus smirked, but then, seeing Harry's vulnerability, he felt something within him soften, and his smirk turned into a genuine smile (small as it was). Tentatively (because he wasn't the sort who touched people with ease), he rested a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I think you'll be fine. Myths really are just stories, and usually interesting ones."

"I -"

"And seeing as you soaked up every detail about Merlin's life, I don't think you'll have a problem with Ancient Runes."

Harry's green eyes were large, and almost puppy-like, and it filled Callidus with a startling flood of protectiveness. "Really?"

"Really." Callidus only wished that he felt as certain as he sounded. But he couldn't leave room for doubts in his mind - not when there was so much he needed to do this year - and submerged the feelings, hoping they wouldn't rise again. "Now let's get to down to the greenhouses - wouldn't want to lose points for being late."

-o-

"I should have taken a shower over lunch," Draco grumbled, as he and Harry made their way across the damp grass towards Hagrid's hut, where their first Care of Magical Creatures class would be held. It was customary for Draco to take full showers after Herbology, and no amount of self-cleaning charms could get rid of the gritty sensation of dirt on his skin. At least the cover of the gray sky kept him from becoming too sweaty as well. That would be intolerable.

"We're going to be dealing with creatures," Harry pointed out. "You're just going to get dirty again."

"Still," Draco whinged. "It's undignified. If I get dirty again, then I could just have a second shower. I feel - unkempt. It's unseemly for someone like me!"

Harry merely rolled his eyes as they ambled down the sloping lawn. Of course Harry was unsympathetic, Draco thought. With hair like that, Harry rarely had the opportunity to luxuriate in the superior sensation of being impeccable. Between his two friends, it was Draco who had to carry the mantle of representing proper Slytherin decorum. Fortunately, Draco had exemplary taste, and enough refinement to ensure that the trio were above reproach. Mostly. It helped when Callidus used his degreasing hair potion, and when Harry - well, there wasn't much Harry could do with that mop on his head.

"Hullo, you two!" Hagrid cheerfully welcomed, with Fang by his side, tail wagging. Draco and Harry said their 'hellos' and 'how're yous' in turn, though Draco couldn't help pressing his lips together as he appraised Hagrid's appearance. The half-giant was wearing his moleskin overcoat, rather than professor's robes like he ought to. It made him appear less professional than he should have, but Draco knew from experience that Hagrid could be surprisingly sensitive to criticism, so he wisely kept his mouth shut, thinking: 'I really am a most considerate person,' with a sense of deep satisfaction.

"Will we be seeing Norberta today?" Draco asked, rocking on his heels in eagernesss. He would never tire of her magnificence.

A flash of teeth appeared amidst Hagrid's wild beard. "Nah, but yer still in fer a real treat!" He glanced up at the slope towards the dawdling students that were still arriving, one of them including Hermione Granger. "C'mon, now, get a move on! Great lesson comin' up!"

"We meet again!" Harry grinned at the Gryffindor, while Draco gave her a cool nod. With his discerning eye, he couldn't help but notice that Hermione appeared rather harried (and it really wasn't a good look).

Hagrid surveyed the group. "Everyone here? Right, follow me!" The half-giant led them along the edge of the Forbidden Forest, until they came to a familiar paddock that Draco often passed when he was visiting the dragon. He then urged them to take out their course book. The only problem was, their course books were were vicious, and Draco didn't want all his belongings destroyed. As he tugged out his roped book, he could see that the other students had faced similar problems. And when Hagrid told them to open their books, he was crestfallen to see that none of them knew how to.

Draco couldn't help the sense of pity that washed over him (pity being an acceptable emotion for a Malfoy to feel). Hagrid was hopelessly Gryffindor-ish, and rather boorish, and a half-breed at that, but on the other hand, Hagrid was the reason that they had Norberta, and Norberta (paragon of elegance that she was), was quite taken with Hagrid. Hagrid knew how to treat Norberta well and make her happy, and so, for all his flaws, Draco was convinced that Hagrid was quite acceptable, which meant that Draco didn't want to see Hagrid of fail. At least, that's what he told himself.

Hagrid held up one of the books and explained, with a quivering voice: "Yeh've got ter stroke 'em. Look -" and as Hagrid ran one of his thick fingers down the length of the spine, the book trembled before docilely opening.

"That's rather clever, isn't it?" Draco lied, and Hagrid's expression lit up like the sun.

"Yeh think so?"

"Of course," Draco dissembled, with an exaggerated nod.

"I figured they'd be funny." The rest of the class looks down at their books, doubt stamped across their faces, but Draco merely let out a chuckle that he used for old witches with lots of power, influence, and money, who liked to pinch his cheeks while he pretended to like it at the behest of his father.

"They're pretty, er - neat -" Harry added, clearly catching on to Draco's scheming. And while Harry might not be as subtle as Draco, Hagrid was still delighted. He had them turn to the page on hippogriffs, while Draco fretted because Hagrid didn't even know which page they were supposed to turn to.

"Psst - Hagrid, it's page forty-three," he had whispered, though Hagrid had ruined his attempts at covertness by booming out: "Thanks, Draco! Page for'y-three, everyone!" while Draco cringed. Didn't Hagrid understand that Draco was trying to help him appear more professional?

While Hagrid began to lecture (and to his credit, he knew a great deal about hippogriffs), Pansy sidled up to him, murmuring: "What's with you today, Draco? You're being weird."

"No I'm not," he scoffed. "The biting books were quite delightful, and provided hours of amusement."

Pansy's eyebrows flew up, as she shook her head and said: "Hours of amusement? You're a terrible liar. I'd be embarrassed for you, but it's kind of cute how Harry is looking at you as if you've just hung the moon."

"He is?" he turned to look at his friend, heart leaping with hope. If Harry really saw just how thoughtful and considerate and kind he was being, maybe he'd give up on Sirius.

Pansy tittered. "Oh Merlin, Draco. You're too adorable. And obvious."

Draco thrust his lower lip out, and muttered: "Well, you're a cow." Unfortunately, his words lacked any real venom. He would have to work on that. As far as he was concerned, his words ought to be utterly devastating, and soul-destroying. That would show Pansy!

But Pansy merely gave him a self-satisfied smirk (that ruined the lines of her face, and aged her by at least ten years), and sauntered off. Calling her a cow had been far too kind.

Soon, Hagrid was calling for their attention again. The gamekeeper had, at some point, wandered off, and was now leading a herd(?) or flock(?) of half-horse, half-bird like creatures towards them. Draco's eyes were immediately drawn towards the creatures' cruel-looking talons, and he shivered. Of course, Norberta had even crueler talons, but that was Norberta, and she was different and special. Unconscious of his own actions, he took a step back.

"Beau'iful, aren' they?" Hagrid said, while Draco wondered if he was delusional. Those steel-coloured beaks looked as if they could rip a wizard's head clean off! Well, as long as they could examine the creatures from a distance, he was sure they would be fine. But then, Hagrid began rambling on about bowing, and politeness, and respect, and asking: "Right - who wants ter go first?"

And Harry was nudging him with his elbow, whispering (seemingly loud enough that the whole class could hear), "You've been such a big help. You should go first!" Only, Harry was saying it as if it was a great honour, rather than a horrible (and probably mortifying) trial.

"Why don't you -"

"Draco volunteers!" Harry called out, grinning like a loon, while Draco wondered if Harry would still be willing to move into Malfoy manor if Draco strangled him then and there. He decided (grudgingly) that he shouldn't risk it. Harry was lucky he was such a good friend.

The next part of the class had been a complete blur, with the most distinct part being the horrible heat of humiliation as he bowed(!) to a creature(!), and somehow, through some insane twist of fate, he ended up on that very creature's back, and then he was hanging for dear life (and Merlin! Merlin! He was going to die! He was going to fall off, and splatter on the ground, and his shattered bits would be such a mess than they'd have to vanish his remains so he wouldn't even have the dignity of dying beautiful!)

And then, he was back on the ground, and though he felt as if he had been hit by ten stunners at once, he somehow managed to suggest to Hagrid that he ought to use a sticking charm on the hippogriff's back if he didn't want to kill the students on his first day of teaching. And it also turned out that Pansy was right: Harry really did look at him as if he'd hung the moon, and he decided then and there that Care of Magical Creatures had been a fantastic class after all (even if he wanted to sleep for a full century afterwards). There was no way that Harry looked at Sirius like that! Surely, everything would be all right after all.

-o-

Draco and Callidus's Arithmancy class was on the third floor, off of the curving serpentine corridor. It felt unnatural, going to a class without Harry, but Draco's father had specifically stressed the importance of Arithmancy, and as dry as the subjected sounded, Draco didn't dare to directly oppose his father's wishes.

The classroom was brightly lit by a row of floor to ceiling arch-shaped windows, the leaded glass crossed in a diamond pattern. Professor Vector sat at her desk, once again wearing red robes, but this time, it was the dark colour of wine rather than the bright red of an apple, like her robes at the Welcoming Feast. Red suited her pale complexion and dark hair, Draco thought with approval. And with her ramrod straight bearing, and serious expression, Draco decided she was a rather handsome woman. She met each student's' eyes as they entered the classroom, inclining her head with a tiny nod.

Near the front of the austere classroom sat Hermione Granger, her bushy hair the very epitome of tastelessness (or did that title belong to Harry? No, Harry's hair might be despairingly close to hopeless, but Harry was at least a Slytherin, and could carry himself with proper deportment, when necessary). When she saw them enter, she smiled, and Draco gave her a regal nod, making his way towards the back of the classroom, Callidus following. Draco might care about his grades, but he was no swot.

After the chime of the bell, Vector took roll call, her voice crisp as she said their names. She then folded her hands together on the desk, letting her stern gaze sweep the room, taking their measure. The class was completely silent, hardly even daring to breathe.

"Arithmancy is an exacting study, and it is extremely rare thing for anyone to have an intuitive grasp on the subject. What that means is that this is a science that you cannot expect to coast through. You will, each and every one of you, need to put in the hard work if you are to pass the course. That said, intuition is still an important part of Arithmancy, because no matter how well you might understand the numbers and their meanings, the magic behind Arithmancy may alter the course of certain numbers and formulas, and affect the overall picture of the equation or expression.

"With a grasp of the rudiments of Arithmancy, you can come to understand the theory behind spell creation or potion creation. With a mastery of Arithmancy, you can predict even more complex patterns; even learn to read the future. This is wholly unlike the imprecise study of Divination. Arithmancy may not predict the future with absolute certainty, but Arithmancy will show you the disparate possibilities, and their consequences. And knowing this, it can also tell you how to act, to achieve the future that is most desirable. Unlike most of your other subjects, Arithmancy is not a dangerous study. No, what Arithmancy does is to decrease the danger of all other forms of magic. With Arithmancy, you can plumb greater depths, gain a more throughout understanding of other magics. With Arithmancy, you can do more with your magic than just Charms, or Potions, or Transfiguration alone.

"This will not be an easy course. I have high expectations for all my students, and expect nothing less than your full effort. This is an entry-level course, which means we will need to lay the foundations of your understanding. Theory and memorization will be important at this level, and it will be grueling, and it will be dry, but it is also necessary. Now open your course books to page three. We will begin with the eleven numbers used in constructing numerology charts, and the meanings of those numbers. You will be quizzed on each of these numbers weekly, so learn them well."

The class snapped to obey her with a rustle of pages as they opened their books, and began to read, listen, and scratch out hurried notes. There was hardly a moment for errant thoughts, as Vector's voice relentlessly explained the hard theory. But by the end of the class, Draco had found himself seized by Vector's words. Yes, the material was heavy and yes it was dry, but Vector's opening speech had opened a vista of dazzling potential. To not only predict the future, but to use that information to shape it? Who wouldn't want such awe-inspiring power at their disposal? And instead of striking in the dark, instead of blindly groping for what he wanted, he could learn how to see the future, and bind Harry closer as a friend and brother. Because if Draco had that knowledge, then he could finally, finally be sure that Harry would be unequivocally his.

A/N: Professor Babbling's personality is based on another fanfic I've read. Unfortunately, I've read so many that I can't remember which one so I can't properly credit it...