After what was dubbed "the Hermione Granger incident" life disappointingly returned to normal, as it often does after any monumental disruption. Malfoy perhaps harped about his father even more than usual and Dumbledore, from what Harry could observe, was a little less cheerfully extravagant.
Otherwise, Snape still desperately payed as little attention to him as possible, Binns was still boring and Theodore remained a loyal companion in Harry's day to day activities.
Flying classes continued to be incredibly enjoyable, but they were going to continue only until the winter break and Harry preemptively mourned their loss, it was already midway through October. He'd immediately taken to flying, unlike Theodore who rather firmly preferred to remain on the ground and was very much looking forward to the end of their lessons. How they could be friends was unimaginable, Nott didn't enjoy flying, they practically had nothing in common!
Harry really was upset he wouldn't be able to fly again till next year, the feeling of elation when he looked at the world around him from above, the wind beating against him, it was incredible, it made him feel like nothing else could reach him, when he was in the air, nothing else mattered, school, Malfoy, the Dursleys, they all became irrelevant. Of the many things Harry envied of Malfoy, the ability to fly at any time when he returned home was one of the greatest, alongside a family who actually gave a shit about him of course, but that really applied to most if not all the students of Hogwarts.
Away from these last few flying lessons, miles away, stood an unwelcoming yet magnificent household, the walls, just as its interiors, were cold. It was incredible, like a stone angel above a gravestone could be, beautiful in its devastating solitude. Within this burial ground of a home, the head of the family was considering his actions, proving Harry Potter's assumptions about said lord Lucius Malfoy. It had been thirteen years since the dark lord, his lord had been defeated and aside the occasional "sightings" from the occasional delusional old woman or drunken idiot, nothing had been heard. He'd hated the war, Malfoys weren't fighters and he hated getting hands dirty. However, he could not help to desire the discrediting and humiliation of at least some of his enemies and Malfoy had just been given the key to his dreams.
He'd failed to get his way with Arthur Weasley for years, but drastic cuts to the Hogwarts scholarship fund, helped along by his place on the board of directors, had eventually removed Weasley's interest in that idiotic muggle protection act, providing at least some relief. It was Dumbledore though, that Malfoy could never attain, the man was politically un-ruinable, until today, a troll let loose within Hogwarts? This would never pass, except the girl just had to be a Mudblood, had it been anyone worth something Dumbledore would have already, at the very least, been suspended from his post as headmaster.
Faced with this, Lucius couldn't allow this to go to waste, but what could he do that would discredit Dumbledore further? The diary! He's been told guarding it was of utmost importance, surely a dark object the likes of it could tarnish the school's reputation further and he could slip it to one of the Weasley children, killing two birds with one stone! It was an excellent plan.
There was of course the matter of what his lord would do if he found out about what Lucius had done, because Lucius knew his lord wasn't dead, as much as he sometimes wished it, his mark still stung occasionally, violently tearing him out of his sleep, aching like the phantom pain of an old injury. Lucius could only hope his lord would not restart the war within his lifetime, or that of his son. In regards to the diary, if it succeeded then surely his lord would be very pleased, perhaps so much as to disregard his breaking of orders to achieve it.
The man was pleased, he sat down in his favourite armchair, the soft leather welcoming him into its comfort, he looked into the fireplace burning before him, perhaps he'd treat himself to a nice bottle, after all he was finally going to succeed in something, his father had been the one to damn them into a relationship with the dark lord, but Lucius would be damned if he let his unfortunate reputation stop him from retaining political power.
The only thing Lucius had left was to figure out how to get the diary into the school, if the summer holiday were coming up he could have done so himself, but during the Yule break he was unlikely to encounter children outside of those belonging to his pureblood acquaintances, so that wouldn't do. As idiotic as some of them were, it would be damaging to the reputation of his associates and they were limited in number already. He could visit the school under the pretext of a member of the board of directors? Perhaps he could send it to his son? No he didn't want to get him involved, Narcissa would be insufferable if she found out he did anything which could put Draco in danger. Convincing her that Hogwarts has been the better school had been enough of a struggle, especially after the aforementioned troll incident.
Ah but of course, he should just play concerned parent! He knew Draco could handle himself, he wasn't as idiotic as the Mudblood girl was, so outside of unfortunate exposure to Dumbledore his son was hardly in danger, but it would definitely work as a front. The board of directors had been looking to send someone to investigate the incident, if he hurried he could organise for himself to be sent.
Lucius Malfoy stood up, his robes falling into place around him, the heavy black fabric creating a striking contrast, his pale skin illuminated by the flames of the fireplace. He arranged himself with a quick spell and threw a handful of floo powder into the fireplace he had been previously contemplating, disappearing in a roar of green flames. The manor now stood empty once again, Narcissa Malfoy rarely spent time inside when her son was away, it was now once again inhabited only by house elves and portraits of long forgotten family ancestors.
Harry took one last lap around the training ground, Mrs Hooch had declared him a very skilled flier early within the lessons and usually allowed him to do as he wished within a certain height, while she took care of the more flying averse students, like Theodore. Who absolutely loved being forced to fly by Hooch.
Harry stopped in mid air and looked out onto the grounds, he was only about thirty feet above the ground, but he could see as far as the first rooftops of Hogsmeade. He sat on his broom with his back to the castle, the building a hulking monolith compared to his small form.
He looked into the distance, across the treetops, a gust of wind blew through, whipping his hair wildly across his forehead. Harry suddenly felt invigorated, anxious even, as if something monumental was going to happen, he shook it off and looked back at the slowly fading autumn sunlight. He turned around, slowly flying back to Theodore and looking forward to spending the afternoon in a comfortable armchair.
—-
So just realised I didn't give an exact reason for Quirrel to still be working a DADA professor, basically since everyone starts Hogwarts two years later, just assume he got onto the career path later and thus decided to travel to Albania later, this means the philosophers stone was just transferred to Hogwarts this year, because Voldemort only got to make the attempt to steal it before the begging of this school year.
