Disclaimer: If you know it, it's from Prisoner of Azkaban. Tragically, I did not write that book. JKR did. Thus, I do not own it.

Edited and reloaded 24 July 2013

A Medley of Moments

Draco was awakened Christmas morning by an earthquake. Once again, he was befuddled on how an earthquake was occurring in Scotland, but quickly discovered it was Earthquake Harry, not an actual earth shaking event that jerked him from his dreams.

"What, Insane One?" Draco grumbled, attempting to get out of Harry's grips.

They were the only two left in the dormitory, so Draco wasn't too worried about waking anyone when he jerked away from Harry with too much force and toppled out of bed causing a rather loud crash as things fell off his bed.

"LOOK!"

Draco pulled himself to his feet using his bed and stared at the bouncing green eyed menace on the other side holding a broom.

"You've got a broom."

Draco frowned, wondering why this was such a big deal. So, Harry had a broom. Clearly, his mother had gotten him another one since Harry failed to actually—

"FIREBOLT! SOMEONE GAVE ME A FIREBOLT!" Harry shouted loud enough to wake the dead.

Draco was suddenly wide awake.

Firebolt. The word coursed through Draco's blood and he felt suddenly quite cold. And very awake.

"Look! It's perfect! Look!"

Harry shoved the broom across the bed, willingly allowing Draco to hold it. Draco eyed the broom for a beat before Harry shoved at it him again. Taking the broom as if it were made of glass, Draco held his breath as he handled it.

He'd never touched a Firebolt before.

The handle glittered and the diamond polish shone even in the dull light of morning. Draco could feel the broom vibrating in his hands. He tightened his grip, afraid it was going to jump out of his hands at any moment. The tail was a picture of perfection with smooth, streamlined birch twigs that seemed to have been made identical by magic. Draco glanced at the handle again and studied the golden registration number.

Harry had broom seven.

Seven.

The number roared through his mind loudly.

Seven was a magical number.

Draco dropped the broom.

Instead of falling to the bed, the broom decided it would be best to hover at the right height for mounting, only it was much too low for Draco. The broom had clearly registered the fact it belonged to the much shorter and smaller Harry Potter.

"Who sent this to you?" Draco asked in a hushed voice, reaching out to touch the broom again. He was almost afraid it'd shock him or something.

Nothing happened other than the broom continued to vibrate with life. Draco fingered the registration number, slowly tracing the single digit.

It had to be important that Harry had broom seven out of the hundreds made. Before the broom even came out, the Irish team had put an order in and there were more than seven people on the National Quidditch team of Ireland.

And the Ireland wasn't alone in pre-ordering brooms, so logically, many of the national teams had done the same. So, it was highly unlikely that someone who ordered a broom after Harry's got eaten by a tree would have snatched up number seven.

"Er…."

Draco looked up to see a sheepish looking Harry turning around to search through the wrapping paper that exploded on his bed. Harry had only unwrapped the broom, but it seemed to have been wrapped in miles of paper for some reason.

"There's no card," Harry said. "Even the Invisibility Cloak came with a note."

"That it did," Draco agreed, wondering what he ought to do. The moment he'd seen it was a Firebolt, he'd dismissed the fact his mother had gotten the broom.

There was a solid reason Draco had never touched a Firebolt before today.

The last Firebolt didn't kill Potter, thus it could be assumed this one wouldn't kill Harry. But…

Draco had an insane urge to give the broom to McGonagall and ask her to strip it.

Another part of him screamed that was pointless. No one could tamper with a Firebolt.

And Potter hadn't been killed by his broom.

Harry sat down on his bed and frowned, staring at the broom that was still hovering above Draco's bed waiting for Harry to leap on and take a lap around the room.

"Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Who would give me a broom like this?"

"Someone who has missed twelve birthdays and Christmases," Draco said without thinking. His head snapped up and met Harry's stunned expression. "Well, think about it?"

"Where would Sirius Black get that kind of money to get me something like this? And how? He's an escaped convict!"

Draco shifted on his feet and sighed. "Goblins hate the Ministry. Black could turn up there and they'd give him what he wanted and he'd go on his merry way. He is also in control of one of the largest fortunes Gringotts has the privilege of hiding. Sirius Black is Lord Black, head of the House of Black, both branches. Likely. Even if he's not, I'm pretty sure he had money that's just been sitting around collecting dust since he's been in jail. I think Mother told me that her one of her uncles left Sirius all his gold when he died, which left Sirius pretty well off even without the Black family fortune. Why do you think Altair Black is so interested in getting himself established as the Head of the Black family in Britain? Besides the power, there's the gold."

Harry appeared to have lost control of his mouth. It continued to open and close.

"I think we ought to give it to McGonagall," Draco said before he could stop himself. He blinked several times, feeling off kilter.

"What? Why? Black doesn't want to kill me…I thought."

"We don't know if it was Black who sent it to you!" Draco exclaimed, feeling oddly like words were being drawn out of his mouth against his will. "It might have been a Death Eater or even Marv himself!"

Harry snorted. "How would Marv in his current form send me something?"

"Help of a minion."

"Where'd he get a minion?"

"Same place he got the last one," Draco darkly replied. He swallowed and waited to say something else that felt off, but he felt as if he was under his own control again.

It didn't last long.

"The fact there's no note is…upsetting. I say we give it to McGonagall and allow her to make sure it's not cursed or anything weird. I'm sure she'll be done in time for your next game. Hell, I bet they'll finish before Wood comes back and goes back to pestering you about brooms."

Harry reached out and grabbed the hovering broom, sighing. "It doesn't feel evil."

"I doubt it is. Better safe than sorry," Draco said, meeting the green eyes of his best friend. He wanted to shout the broom was perfectly fine, but his tongue felt like a two ton weight. It took him a moment before he was able to say, "Remember you telling me you do stupid things where you could wind up dead?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, if it is cursed, you'd die."

Harry scowled. "Fine. Do you think she's up or should we just carry on opening the presents?"

"We'll give it to her at lunch. Let's open the gifts," Draco said, putting a smile on his face.

Harry instantly turned around and began to open his gifts. Draco poked his tongue and frowned. Under his breath he uttered a few choice words. He said outrageous things that weren't true.

They came out easily.

The only thing that refused to come out had to do with not giving McGonagall the broom.

So, this was what it was like when Time decided you weren't going to mess with something. Glancing at Harry, who was frowning at a book, Draco wondered if this was what he felt like last year when he desperately wanted to follow the spiders. Or if Time just hated Draco so she was torturing him by yanking words out of his mouth against his will…

Likely the latter.

McGonagall looked like she'd swallowed a canary the moment Harry walked in carrying the Firebolt. Then she frowned when Harry thrust the broom at her and asked her to check it out, as it'd arrived without a note.

"That's an awfully expensive gift," Snape sneered from his spot at the table.

"Or it's one to make up for a lifetime of gifts," Dumbledore serenely offered. "But, best make sure it is safe for Mr Potter to fly. Good thinking, Harry."

Dumbledore beamed at Harry, then looked up at Draco and winked.

Draco turned pink and quickly sat at the almost empty table. There was only one table set up for the meal. Dumbledore clearly thought it was silly to sit separate tables when there were only the professors and three other students besides Harry and Draco.

"Well, dig in!" Dumbledore shouted as McGonagall stared at the Firebolt in her hands looking at a loss for the first time in her life.

As Draco was reaching for the roast potatoes, the doors to the Great Hall flew open. Everyone looked to find Professor Trelawney gliding towards them as if she had put wheels on her shoes and a string was simply tugging her forward. She was dressed for the holidays in a green sequined dress, lots of gold bangles and a shimmery white shall. She looked more like an oversized dragon fly than Draco remembered.

"Sybill! What a surprise!" Dumbledore beamed, standing instantly.

"I was crystal gazing, Headmaster," she started in her mistiest voice. "To my utter confusion, I saw two versions of this event and myself at both."

Dumbledore looked pleasantly confused.

"I must to bow to fate, as no matter the time, I come to dinner," she said, looking around with a rather odd expression on her face.

"Well, best draw you up a chair," Dumbledore said.

And he did indeed draw up a chair out of thin air. The chair landed with a thud next to McGonagall, who had finally put the Firebolt away somewhere and looked to be herself once more. Trelawney did not sit instantly, but seemed to be counting.

"We shall not be thirteen," she muttered, frowning. "Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!"

"Good to know, Sybill," McGonagall snipped. "Do sit down, the turkey is getting stone cold."

Trelawney lowered herself into the chair and gazed around the table as if she was trying to figure out something that was baffling her. Her eyes landed on Draco and she startled. "You are not in my class."

"No, ma'am."

"You were at some point," she pressed.

Harry and Draco exchanged looks.

"No, sorry."

"You are not a red head," she stated, pointing out the obvious.

"No, I've never had red hair," Draco offered, knowing she was referring to the fact she'd seen Ron and likely Hermione at the table in her other vision. If that was what she even had. Who knew what the old bat had seen?

"Someone is missing," she went on, gazing around the table. Her eyes landed in a blank spot next to Draco.

"Yes, Professor Lupin is ill again," Dumbledore offered. He waved his hand indicating that everyone should start serving themselves again. "Most unfortunate it should happen during the holidays."

"But, surely you knew that already, Sybill," McGonagall pressed, raising her eyebrows.

"I didn't mean Professor Lupin," Trelawney snapped, pulling her glittering shall closer around her shoulders. "I meant the bushy haired girl who doesn't believe."

McGongall's eyebrows got lost in her forehead they rose so high. Trelawney failed to notice this fact and bristled.

"I also do not enjoy parading the fact I am All-Knowing in front of others. It makes most uncomfortable if I know all before I ask," she explained, her voice loosing it's misty tone suddenly.

"That explains a lot," McGongall replied tartly.

Trelawney narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to speak again, but Dumbledore loudly asked Snape if he'd break a cracker and the explosion sent blue smoke all over the place that resulted in a funny looking hat that made Harry giggle.

Seeing Hagrid had been quite subdue during Christmas lunch, Draco and Harry trekked through the snow to his hut and banged on the door.

"Is he out?" Harry asked, standing on his toes to peer into the frosty window.

Draco pressed his ear to the door and frowned. "No. I believe he's in there."

Harry fell back to his heels and banged on the door shouting, "Hagrid, we know are you in there! Open up!"

Heavy footsteps sounded and the door flew open. Hagrid looked forlorn and his eyes were red-rimmed.

"Yeh've heard? Oh, yeh've heard!"

Hagrid suddenly flung himself at Harry and began to cry, huge crocodile tears falling down his cheeks. Also, being at least twice the size of a normal adult male, Hagrid almost took Harry out with his hugging. Harry only managed to remain somewhat upright due to the fact Fang decided to stand behind Harry and be used as a chair. With difficulty, Draco managed to pry Hagrid off Harry and the pair steered the large man to the table where he collapsed into a chair that could hold his weight.

"Heard what, Hagrid?" Harry asked. "We were just worried as you seemed down at lunch. And it's Christmas!"

"What's this?" Draco asked, a sinking feeling settling in his stomach at the sight of a clearly tear stained official-looking letter.

Whatever Hagrid said to explain was lost in a fresh round of sobs and tears. Harry looked worried and bewildered, all thoughts of a cheery visit gone.

"What is it, Draco?"

"A notice."

Harry gave Draco a look telling him he better quickly explain. Swallowing thickly, Draco picked the letter up and read aloud:

Dear Mr Hagrid,

Further to our inquiry into the attack by a hippogriff on a student in your third year class, we have accepted the assurance of Professor Dumbledore that you bear no responsibility for the regrettable incident. However, we must register our concern about the hippogriff in question. We have decided to uphold the official complaint of Mr Franklin Nott. This matter will be taken before the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. The hearing will take place on 20 April and we ask you to present yourself and your hippogriff at the Committee's offices in London on that date. In the mean time keep the hippogriff in question tethered and isolated.

Draco stopped reading, as he figured he didn't need to read off the list of governors. Looking up, Draco didn't need to voice his concern in regards to the welfare of the in question hippogriff. Harry knew as well as he did that Nott's dad would buy off the Committee and the hippogriff was toast.

"Did Mr Nott get to the school governors?" Harry asked.

"I doubt it. This would be the action they'd take if any parent filed a complaint where a student got injured by a magical creature during a lesson," Draco admitted. He looked back at the letter.

There was a noise from behind Draco, making Draco squeak and whirl around. Behind him was the hippogriff in question— the same one who'd attacked Draco in another life.

Breathing became rather hard.

While he knew he was at fault for the attack, he still had an unnatural and understandable fear of hippogriffs. It was a gut reaction to the creature. He simply was unable to help it.

He was the same way around ferrets.

"I couldn't leave him tied up out there in the snow!" Hagrid wailed. "All on his own! At Christmas!"

"Er, Draco?" Harry asked, appearing at Draco's side. "Bow slowly and don't break eye contact."

Draco managed to nod and did as Harry requested. Suddenly, the hippogriff bowed in return.

"Oh, he likes ya!" Hagrid choked out. "Go on, pet him!"

Draco inched forward and patted the creature on the beak, then slowly retreated. Harry looked mildly amused as he moved and began to scratch the creature behind the ears. Draco backed up till he hit the table and turned around to face a half sobbing Hagrid.

"Tea? We need tea," Draco announced, eyes darting around quickly. "Tea is needed."

Hagrid blinked a few times before gesturing to the area where he kept tea. Draco scurried in that direction, which was luckily on the other side of the hut from where the hippogriff was located.

"Hagrid, can you mount a defense?" Harry inquired. "Like, er, court? Wizards have courts right? With judges and lawyers?"

"Won't make no difference," sobbed Hagrid. "Them Disposal devils…they're all friends with Franklin Nott. In his pocket now that Lucius Malfoy— "

Hagrid stopped speaking and silence fell in the room. Draco cleared his throat and used an odd looking thing near the fireplace to put the kettle on the hook that seemed to be used to hang things from to cook over the fire. He pulled his head out of the fireplace, straightened his jumper and turned to face an ashamed looking Hagrid.

"Now that my father has been banished to France," Draco finished with a politely bland expression on his face. "Mr Nott has inserted himself into the spot my father left vacant. I do not blame you for thinking ill of the man. He was not…the best."

Hagrid seemed at a loss for works, so he started crying again, wallowing about how Draco had managed turn out to be such a nice boy despite his father (only he didn't voice that last part— it went unsaid). By the time Draco and Harry extracted themselves from the hut, Draco felt uncomfortable.

He was not a nice boy.

He'd never been a nice boy.

He'd been a horrible child and remained that way till circumstance changed him for the better when he was on the cusp of adulthood. The past three years of reliving his childhood had been a blessing, but he felt guilty for giving people the wrong impression of him somehow. If the Dark Lord had not returned, Draco would have turned out just like his father. He would be cold, cruel and arrogant. He'd abuse House Elves, belittle those he saw under him and ignore his own heir no matter how the boy tried to get his attention.

Just as his father had done to him. It was a brutal cycle.

At least he'd broken it by traveling back in time.

"Draco?"

"Huh?"

Draco blinked, not realizing they had reached the portrait hole. The portrait was shouting abuse at them. The Fat Lady had yet to return and the painting Dumbledore had found to replace her was one of a pudgy knight who loved to challenge Gryffindors to duels.

"You okay?" Harry asked over the paintings ranting. "You've been strange since Hagrid mentioned you're a good kid…well, compared to your, er, dad. I guess Hagrid would have known him, huh, when he was at school? I mean, he never out right said you were better than your dad, but….Draco?"

Hagrid would have known of Lucius, but not known him. Lucius Malfoy would never have looked twice at Hagrid. Hell, Draco didn't till the man became his professor and he'd been forced to pay minimal attention.

How many other people had Draco turned away from because of his arrogance at believing he was better than everyone?

Too many.

"I just…"

"It's okay if you miss him. He's your dad," Harry said, misreading Draco completely.

"I don't miss him. I just…"

This would be easy if Harry had known, if Harry had believed him when Draco blurted out the truth to have Harry laugh at him.

But Harry hadn't believed him.

Draco sighed. "Nothing. I just…don't think I'm nice."

Harry snorted. "Or good?"

"I'm not good. I brake the rules all the time," Draco reminded Harry, letting a smirk paint his face. "Good kids abide by the rules. Hard to do that while around you, oh, Insane One."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Boring. We can still be decent kids and one day adults and live a little. Speaking of living a little, wanna get the map out and explore the castle?"

Harry had that mischievous glint in his eye and bounded off before Draco could answer.

The remainder of holiday break saw Draco and Harry discovering more about the castle then either had ever imagined they ever would discover about the mysterious place they lived. In one of the towers they discovered a room that was home to an odd assortment of objects. Harry knew what many were and confided that many of the objects were Muggle joke objects.

It was a very strange room.

"Why are they in here?" Draco asked, holding a red circle, floppy thing Harry told him was a whoopee cushion. He threw it over his shoulder and picked up a yellow duck.

He had no idea how a rubber duck was used as a joke object. Or what the purpose of a rubber duck was.

"No clue. Look at these," Harry commented, prying open a crate he'd unearthed on the other side of the room. "Aren't these the exact same dishes we eat on each night?"

Draco tossed the duck back on the shelf and walked across the dusty room. No one had entered this room in years according to the dust on the cold stone floor. Draco didn't know how Harry could kneel on the ground. It radiated cold that Draco could feel through his shoes. Reaching Harry, he peaked into the crate and found it filled with golden dishes.

"Looks to be the case," Draco commented, picking a plate up. He turned it over a few times, but didn't find anything strange about it. "Do you think this is kind of like…well, a room to store random things? Like things they don't know what to do with?"

He didn't want to say it was like the room he'd used in the Room of Requirement when he fixed the Vanishing Cabinet, because this room wasn't like that room. It wasn't as large, nor did it seem to be organized chaos. It was organized and seemed to have a theme to the object within it.

Besides the dishes, it was filled with joke objects and things to pull pranks. It was a trickster's heaven.

"What prank would you pull with plates?" Harry inquired, turning on his knees to look behind him.

"Pranks?"

"Yeah. I mean, joke stuff over there on the shelves…it's not all Muggle, but mostly Muggle."

Harry stuck his head into a hole in the wall and yanked out another crate. He opened it to reveal goblets. Lots of glass goblets.

Draco shrugged, putting the dish back in the crate. "No clue. The room wasn't labeled anything was it?"

Harry pulled the map out. "Nope. Just a room. I wonder if the twins know about this room?"

"I doubt it. You can see the dust on this floor?" Draco asked, walking back to the shelves. "I doubt anyone has been in here for at least ten or more years."

Draco began to look closer at the shelves and found that they moved to reveal more shelves behind them. He peeked behind and found a lot of ferrets. He quickly slammed the shelf shut before Harry could see. Harry was so entrenched in figuring out the dishes and goblets, he didn't notice. Draco decided Harry didn't know about the ferret related joke items behind the shelf of Muggle things.

Harry grew bored with the joke room. He was more interested in learning about how to get out of school or what other secret passage ways he had yet to discover. The twins had told Harry which ones were blocked off or Filch knew about, but Harry and Draco checked them out anyways. The first one they checked was the one behind the mirror that was caved in. Harry and Draco thought they could maybe unblock it, but after a few hours they gave up.

The other blocked one inside the castle they never found.

"Do you think it moved?" Harry asked on the afternoon everyone was supposed to be returning to the castle. He had the map out and was staring at the tunnel and the blank wall before them.

"What? Like that odd room near the bathroom we can't get into?" Draco asked, feeling the wall for concealed magic.

He felt nothing. Just like the wall near the bathroom.

"Kind of. That room doesn't move, but the exit to the Room of Requirement does, remember? It can dump us out of danger if need be," Harry reminded Draco. "The Room of Requirement and that room also aren't on the map. Mischief managed."

Harry wiped the map and stuffed it into his pocket, the noise of the retuning students reaching their ears.

"Maybe they didn't know about them?" Draco suggested, dropping his hands from the wall with a sigh.

Harry and Draco made their way back to the Gryffindor Tower, where Oliver Wood attacked Harry the moment he entered.

"Good Christmas? Did you get a broom? I've been doing some thinking, Harry. After the last match, you know, if the dementors show up again, well, I mean, I can't afford to have you fall…well, you know. But, even still…did you get a broom?"

"I got a broom. I'm working on the dementor thing," Harry replied. "Professor Lupin promised to help me with the demntor issue."

Wood didn't seem to comprehend anything other than Harry had a new broom, as he began to speak rapidly. So rapidly, Draco was sure he was actually speaking another language.

Judging by Harry's baffled expression, Wood was indeed speaking gibberish.

"Translation: Where is it, can I see it, what model is it, did you fly it yet and how fast does it go," Big Head Boy said from Wood's other side. Wood nodded, breathless.

"Er, it's with McGonagall. No, you can't see it as it's with McGonagall. It's a Firebolt. I'm not sure how fast it goes because I haven't flown it yet. It's with McGonagall."

Wood stared blankly at Harry, incomprehension clear on his face.

Big Head Boy sighed and asked, "Why is it with McGonagall?"

"Well, uh, it's being checked for jinxes."

"Jinxes?" Wood asked in a high pitched voice. "How could anyone jinx a Firebolt?"

"I dunno."

"Who would do that?" Wood whispered as if it was treason to even think about it. He peered wide eyed at Big Head Boy, who shrugged and pushed his glasses up his nose.

"Er, I dunno, Sirius Black?" Harry tried, clearly not believing it in the least. "He's supposed to want me dead, right?"

Big Head Boy raised a red eyebrow and looked at Harry as if he never met him before. Wood, though, yanked at his hair, rising up to his full height suddenly.

"What? Why would Black jinx a broom? He can't have walked into Quality Quidditch Supply and bought a broomstick! That's insane! He's on the run! He'd stick out if he tried to buy a Firebolt! Where'd he get the gold? Magicked it out of thin air! And it's a FIREBOLT!"

"Well, okay, but it showed up without a note, so I asked McGonagall to check. You know, to be safe? She told me the other day she and Flitwich are working to strip it down…"

Wood went pale and swayed a bit. Big Head Boy steadied him by his elbow.

"I'll go talk to her. I'll make her see sense…a Firebolt. A real Firebolt," Wood breathed, turning around and stumbling out of the room.

Big Head Boy watched him go, sighed again, bade the third years goodbye and went off after Wood. Harry and Draco exchanged baffled looks.

"At least he speaks Woodese," Draco offered.

"I guess. Maybe we should invite him to practice. Sometimes Wood speaks like that and none of us understand. He kinda gets frustrated and yanks his hair a lot," Harry said, shrugging. "At least it only happens when he's super excited."