Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
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Lucius Malfoy stared at his son, a scowl spread across his face as he contemplated the best course of action. When his son had sent news to him prior to the end of his first semester that he had been bested in a fixed duel, by the Potter boy no less, he had thought his son had been jesting with him. With every passing word written though it was clear that there was panic and fear regarding what the boy was capable of.
Thus he had demanded to witness the memory of the event.
Watching the event unfold, he was surprised by just what the child was capable of, especially considering if the rumours were true he had spent his life so far amongst the filth that walked the Earth. The battle had given him food for thought in how best to punish his son for his incompetence, he along with the Crabbe and Goyle's children had had the number advantage and the element of both surprise and a hostage at their disposal. Even then only one of them had had the decency to try and maim the Mudblood. The other had managed to summon a sentient being, a rather impressive feat for someone who would one day serve their lord.
Draco's efforts had been most disappointing.
To this point though he was aware that he had done little to teach Draco power, he was in the house of the cunning and Lucius having expected as much. Most of his teachings had entailed showing Draco who he was in life, what his position was amongst the sheep. Lucius taught his son how to pull the right strings and shape destiny through the power of his last name. His accomplices were meant to be all the strength he required. It seemed this was not the case.
"We will begin training in the morning," declared Lucius, his voice cracking like a whip. "Begone."
He watched as Draco scurried away with whatever composure he could muster. Lucius was quite sure that his son would know what was in store for him come the morrow. The welts and cuts he would receive wouldn't quite put him on par with how monstrous the Potter boy looked but it would serve its purpose.
That brought his train of thought back to the Potter scum. From the sound of it the only people he had aligned himself with were both the Longbottom heir and the Mudblood. The filth aside, while the Longbottoms had been warriors of the light in the last war they had suffered dearly for their stupidity. Even now it was clear to see the repercussions. While the Longbottom matriarch was a force to be reckoned with in the political world she barely spoke up unless the topic was harshly controversial. She had shifted from the forefront and seemed content with simply watching the world tear itself apart. As off as it sounded, the Longbottom's were almost classified as a grey family, the horrors of war having torn their belief in the light apart. After all, if they hadn't followed Dumbledore all those years ago then two of their family members wouldn't be permanently restricted to the mental ward of St Mungo's.
It made the political world inside Hogwarts quite interesting to bear witness to. From what he gathered there were already two independent groups of light being formed, one of which were following Dumbledore blindly and would gladly throw themselves in front of a Killing Curse for him. The others, if what Draco told him in his letters were true, were being led by the Bones heiress. It was understandable that her views of the whole matter of 'light' would be different from her compatriots, her aunt was the head of the DMLE and a constant thorn in his side. Her view on what was light would have already been warped from a young age to believe that everything had to be by the book. Draco was wise not to rile up that kettle of the flobberworms at the moment, last thing he needed was for Madam Bones to have another reason to breathe fire down his neck.
His son would do well in the years to come in corrupting even the most light-hearted Slytherins, the minority by far, to his cause. With the power he would teach him Draco would learn that none would wish to be the target of his ire. Like with every grade there would be those that would coerce with only their own peers but so long as Draco made enough of an influence on them when he could it would mean they could be summoned to his side at his call. His child simply had to learn how to use the skills he had already been taught.
The most interesting development by far was this supposed Grey Faction that was being formed in the school. A pureblood, a halfblood and a Mudblood all coming together was absurd. Like with all alliances there had to be a reason why they had joined forces, but he cared not for such trivial matters. What mattered was being able to use them to his advantage. Draco had already likely burnt all bridges that would lead to them seeing one another as equals. Just because he would never align himself with Draco however didn't necessarily mean he would align himself with Dumbledore's forces. That did mean that the most likely form of an alliance that would be formed, were one to form at all, would be between the Light party governed by the Bones heiress and the Greys.
In all likelihood, were such an allegiance soon to exist, Draco would have to be as crafty as him in order to keep his head above water.
…
Harry awoke that morning as if it were any other day, ignoring the fact that every other student still in the school was likely struggling to contain their joy at it being the most festive day of the year. On most years it merely meant for him that he would get the fat off the roast ham his uncle was fond of. Fumbling around for his glasses, when his sight was corrected he was glad to see that he had not experienced another bout of accidental magic in his sleep. Only once more had it happened after he had been moved to his own quarters, his quilt and mattress had been torn to shreds and it had taken a full day of study to find an appropriate spell that would repair the damage he had unconsciously caused.
One valuable thing about being isolated in his own room each morning was that it was actually separated from the rest of the Gryffindor common room, being located on the same floor but further down the corridor. The move had happened pretty smoothly other than the fact the Professor Dumbledore had attempted to prevent it from happening at all, saying that it was best for Harry to be surrounded by his peers. Harry had started to leak crocodile tears and said that he would never be able to forgive himself if he hurt those around him when they were unable to protect themselves. Albus had been unable to mount a counter argument to his words but declared that as soon as Harry stopped having accidental bouts of magic he would be moved back into Gryffindor tower.
Harry had thus far lied five times to Professor McGonagall, telling her time and time again that something had occurred during his slumber. She accepted his word and asked if he needed help restoring his room to order where he would then say he had already fixed it. He would continue to lie for the rest of his school life if it meant staying out of the public eye for a little while longer.
Harry wasn't sure just who this room was originally available for but it must have been for somebody important. His entire private quarters was larger than the bottom floor of his uncle's home, complete with its own private bathroom and a living area not too dissimilar from that in Gryffindor tower albeit a lot smaller. For the boy who had spent most of his life living under a set of stairs he felt as if he was living in a palace.
And he had taken the liberty of turning his living room into his own personal laboratory.
While many may have expected to see a collection of books, both recreational and educational, Harry had almost abused the open fireplace he had at his disposal, a black cauldron hanging several inches over the hot coals. While he couldn't get many ingredients on his own, his makeshift alliance with the Weasley Twins had gathered them coin in exchange for them purchasing every ingredient they could think of from Hogsmeade along with as many glass vials as they could carry. They had returned with his stock only two days prior and after a rushed breakfast, Harry had set about preparing and preserving every ingredient in as many ways as his potions tome had told him would be necessary.
Not even bothering to get out of his pyjamas, Harry ambled into the living room intent on checking out his latest batch of Befuddlement Draught. He had allowed his concoction to simmer overnight, having read that so long as the liquid did not become a vapour it would do no damage to the ingredients used and some potion masters theorized that the time of effect increased with time brewed. Since reckless and volatile nature was hard to measure however and was likely different from person to person there was no clear evidence backing this statement.
Didn't mean it wasn't worth a shot.
His wandering towards his brew was cut short as Harry spotted a handful of parcels sitting atop his table. Blinking twice in curiosity, Harry chose to ignore the suspicious looking parcels for the moment and chose to resume his previous task and set about bottling his potion. The vials he bottled them in were no wider than his thumb and he had charmed them to be resistant to breakage, though excessive force or dangerous spell fire would be enough to counteract his charms.
With his job done and cauldron now sitting to the side of the fireplace, Harry turned his attention to the five parcels he had been gifted. He had never received Christmas presents before and had never truly thought about it all too much up to this point. It was just like his birthday, something that never really meant much despite the 'importance' of the day. If he was meant to feel happy, he couldn't quite muster more than a small smile. It felt nice to be thought of on a day like this but no more than that.
Taking a seat on his recliner near the fireplace, the first of the presents levitated and made its way over to where he was sitting, Harry's master of Wingardium Leviosa was a sight to behold. Unravelling the twine that held the wrapping in place revealed a sweater, crimson in colour with a giant golden 'H' sewn in the centre. Straight away, Harry hated it and it wasn't too long after he had grasped the material that he had tossed it forward onto the coals in his fireplace, the jumper igniting seconds after it had come in contact with the intense heat. He didn't need any reminders of who he was.
The next parcel he opened was much smaller in size but much more valuable. The first thing he saw was the note from Hermione, wishing him well over the break and that she was looking forward to seeing him soon. Along with the note was a box of caramel fudge that her parents had highly disapproved of but she wanted to send it to him regardless. Harry couldn't help but chuckle at how Hermione was sending chocolate despite her parents being dentists, it was a funny bit of irony. Neville's present was next, a well written message of fond greetings coupled with a pair of leather gloves that were apparently highly resistant to heat if his note was too be believed. He would be sure to thank the two of them when they returned.
The other large parcel was deprived of its wrapping revealing a silvery grey robe, once more with a handwritten note on it. 'Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you. Use it well.' Harry bit at the inside of his lip as he looked at the garment in front of him, clearly understanding that this was something far more valuable than what it first seemed. There was no point in sending him his father's old robe for just sentimental value after all.
The first question that arose was why this wasn't given to him at an earlier time. If the person whom had been holding on to this robe (who had conveniently forgotten to sign their name) had known all along who it had belonged to and that they were going to give it to him, why wait all this time? Something wasn't quite adding up here and Harry wasn't keen to test out the robe until such a time as those he was comfortable with had returned to Hogwarts. Last thing he wanted was to put it on only to find that the inside had been lined with a paralysing potion or something else of a sinister nature. While he was definitely thinking of the worst case scenario he refused to look at it in any other way until such a time as it was deemed 'safe.'
The final present floated over to him seemed horridly wrapped, the colourful paper containing the present was crinkled and many small tears were being held together with spellotape. Opening it and tossing the paper into the smouldering remains of the horrendous jumper, Harry found himself looking at a rabbit plush toy. Of the five presents he had received, this one seemed the most out of place and he was thankful that it came with a note to help him make heads or tails of the whole situation. 'Merry Christmas Harry. I want you to have Flopsy, he kept me safe at night and hopefully he'll keep you safe as well.' Like with the note that had come with his father's robe, this one was unsigned but unlike the elegant writing from before, this one was scribbled down in what he could only assume was the sender being rushed. There was even a blob of ink just below the message making him deduce they were thinking for what they wanted to write for a while. The fact that they had overthought the message and ended up sending something so simply caused him to chuckle lightly.
Taking his presents into his bedroom, Harry deposited the robe and gloves atop his trunk before putting the box of fudge and the stuffed rabbit and placing them atop his bedside cabinet. He wasn't certain of who sent the rabbit, especially because of the message that had been sent with it. As a result of what the Hogwarts rumour mill was, his bout of accidental magic that had sent the rest his roommates into a state of unrest had spread like wildfire. He of course had paid no attention whatsoever to what was being said about him, already at this stage of life he felt no need to pay heed to the backstabbing remarks headed his way. The thought however that someone had decided to send him a plush toy to try help relieve him of future nightmares was cute.
At least he thought it was cute, provided what he was feeling now was what he thought it was.
At the current feast going on in the Great Hall, someone else was feeling thoughts that were peculiar to the norm.
…
For the festive occasion, and subsequent few amount of people present, the Great Hall housed only a single table for the Christmas feast, students sitting amongst the faculty members and chatting away about all manner of topics. Albus Dumbledore allowed himself to chuckle at the expense of one of the fifth years failing to notice that their pumpkin juice had been spiked with one of the Weasley Twins patented brews that now had the Hufflepuff student hiccupping bubbles.
Albus then focused his attention towards the Weasley Twins, the children of two of his most supportive followers. Fred and George were an ingenious couple who sought so much more than what the curriculum could give them. They saw what they were learning as stepping stones towards their ever evolving pranks. Heavens forbid the two of them continue their trend after their OWLs.
For the moment however he had to wonder when next they would attempt to make their way through the traps in the third corridor. It had been quite easy to deduct amongst those that still remained in the castle who had attempted to pry their way towards the prize. He had replaced the door that had been obliterated before any of the teachers were any wiser and simply declared that the alarm that had gone off was of his own doing, ensuring that all systems were operational. Professor McGonagall, the other teacher whom the alarm had notified, took his answer without question before returning to her room to retire for the evening.
Taking his eyes off of the twins, he focused towards the first year Slytherin student who hadn't returned home those holidays. Daphne Greengrass, at first glance, had been placed in the wrong house. The blonde-haired child was hardly the epitome of what Slytherin stood for, doubly so as she fidgeted in her seat at that moment, something tearing at her mind. Likely she had sent out a gift to either a family member or friend and was frightened to see what their reaction would be when they saw them again. Such joyful thoughts would likely be squashed in years to come, the world of the cunning and ambitious would strip her of her innocence and make her ruthless towards achieving her goals.
Returning to the turkey spread in front of him, Albus paid little attention to the fact that one student had not joined them for the feast. He hadn't expected Harry to join them for lunch, as far as he had heard he hadn't made himself present at any of the meals ever since the break had begun. He had heard that every morning he would venture down to the kitchen (how he had learned of the location he could only guess) and leave with enough supplies to last him the day. Albus had considered putting a stop to this but assumed that Harry would begin rejoining everyone in the Great Hall once term resumed.
He couldn't remain cooped in her room forever after all.
…
Neville and Hermione had managed to secure a compartment to themselves, the two of them having found seclusion near the rear of the Hogwarts Express. After having exchanged pleasantries, the two of them had quickly begun their dissection of what they had done over the holidays, both recreational and educational. Hermione had actually found it quite surprising that Neville had managed to somehow convince his Grandmother to invite Tracy Davis to their annual Christmas Ball.
When Hermione had asked for photographic proof of the two of them together he refused, stating that due to the horrendous nature of the dress robes he had been forced to wear he had burned all but one of the photos. That photo was framed and by his bed back in the family manor and would not be shown to Hermione any time soon.
Hermione had silently decided that she would focus her attention on asking Tracy for a photo.
The following couple of hours the two of them had gone over their notes, every assignment for the rest of the year already completed having gotten hold of the curriculum from students in grades above them. Other than participating in class, the two of them (and most likely Harry) had nothing to worry about in regards to their lessons. During the holidays, Neville had managed to scour through his family's personal library and had managed to get hold of a number of spells that could potentially help them in the future.
As the door to their compartment slid open however to reveal Draco Malfoy and his two goons standing there with wands outstretched, Neville could only wished he'd learned them sooner.
…
Hope you enjoyed.