Disclaimer: I don't nor do I pretend to own Harry Potter. Everything belongs to JKR.

AN: This chapter more so than others might be a little confusing to wrap your head around. I hope I did a sufficient enough job explaining my thinking, but if you have a question about anything write me a review and I'll answer you when I can. Enjoy!


It was lonely in his cell. The confinement didn't bother Albus Dumbledore so much as the silence. Some goblin brought him two meals a day, but he would never speak a word to the man whenever Dumbledore attempted to engage him in conversation, and the guards outside his door were even worse. All they ever did was grunt and slam the bottom of their spears on the cold, stone floor when he tried to sleep during the day.

Although he had been stripped of his wand, Dumbledore did not lack for comfort, as his wandless abilities had allowed him to conjure and transfigure his own furnishings. When they'd first discovered silk pillows in his cells, the guards had taken them away, but Dumbledore would always create more, and eventually, they gave up trying to stop him. He was aware that he'd likely angered the guards in doing so, but at his age comfort had become something of a necessity.

I could very well die in here, thought Dumbledore as he listened to soft footsteps echo down the hallway. Dreary as that prospect may be it didn't scare him.

Death will come for all of us soon enough, and if Harry really is gone then I have no reason left to live.

Dumbledore was only too well aware that without the child of the prophecy they could not hope to defeat Tom. More than anything else, that thought plagued Dumbledore. It kept him awake at night with guilt, and Harry's wellbeing was always the first thing he asked the goblin that brought him food every day.

All he ever did to pass the time in his cell was think. He thought about what happened to his companion Griphook. He wondered if there was any chance Harry Potter could've survived the soul removal ritual. Most of all, he lamented over how this whole disaster could've been prevented if only he had foreseen the families true intentions with the goblins.

The more he thought about it, the more he questioned where everything went wrong.

He could hardly believe fate could be so cruel as to crush their hopes so soon after they'd finally learned of the secret to defeating Tom.

"Then again, the fates have always been unkind," whispered Dumbledore to no one in particular as he thought of the untimely death of his younger sister.

As soft as his voice had been, it was still enough to cause the guards outside his cell to grunt and smack their spears against his cell bars.

Dumbledore looked up at the noise, as their actions confused him. They've never done that before to quiet me, he thought.

When the guard outside repeated the action, Dumbledore realised that they wanted his attention. Perhaps Ragnok has finally sent for me, thought Dumbledore.

Using the wall to support his weight, Dumbledore climbed to his feet and stumbled over to the cell door to peer out into the hall to see what the intrusion was.

To his shock, he saw Lily Potter standing in front of him, her eyes red and raw from tears.

As he looked upon her face, Dumbledore felt the last shred of hope in his body leave him, and he sunk to the ground in despair.

Words seemed to fail him at that moment. He wanted to apologise, to explain why he'd acted the way he had, to beg her for forgiveness, but instead all he could do was hang his head.

Lily watched him do so, as motionless as a statue.

When words finally did return to him, Dumbledore's voice cracked with emotion.

"I failed you, and I failed him. When I learned of the prophecy, I swore I'd keep that boy safe until the time came, and I was unable."

Lily merely stood there, grinding her teeth together as she watched him. A full minute passed before she opened her mouth in reply.

"I don't give a damn about your stupid prophecy right now Albus. I only care about my son's life."

Dumbledore nodded. "I… I understand. When Arianna passed I could think of nothing else for weeks. To this day I'm still plagued by the possibility that she died at my hand. A part of me wanted to give up magic altogether after that, but I had a responsibility that I could not run from. It is a terrible type of pain that I have come to experience much too often, to have someone else's blood on my hands - people I care about. I know you may not think it at the moment Lily, but I did care for your son."

"You're wrong. You've always been wrong. You were wrong to think that you could make other people's choices for them. You were wrong to presume that you could use my boy as a weapon. You were wrong to attack my family to attempt to get through to him," Lily replied with conviction as tears once again started to fall down her face. "And if you think I'm going to allow Harry to turn into you then you'd be wrong again."

Dumbledore's head whipped up so quickly after hearing that last declaration he almost knocked himself out on the steel bars.

In the dim torchlight of the hallway, Dumbledore couldn't be sure if he saw Lily's mouth twitch at seeing his reaction, but it hardly mattered to him. All that mattered was that Lily's next words washed away his fears and restored hope in his heart once again.

"He's currently in a comatose state. His body is still warm and his pulse is strong, but he won't wake."

Those words made Dumbledore so happy the old man actually leant forward and kissed the floor.

Relief was short-lived, however, as the next thing he knew Lily had grabbed a hold of his beard and pulled so hard she smashed his chin into the steel bars of the cell gate.

Her eyes bored into his with such fury that despite all his composure, Dumbledore nearly wet himself. He thought about using wandless magic against her but quickly thought better of it. Lily had a wand, but more importantly, she had Harry. If the boy lived through this experience, any hope he ever had of reconnecting with him rested on repairing the relationship with his mother.

When Lily gave his beard another tug, Dumbledore winced in pain and tried to back away a little, but Lily tightened her grip and pulled harder, smashing his chin into the gate once again. "Let's get one thing perfectly clear old man, you are not to come near my family ever again. If I catch you so much as thinking about using my son to fight another one of your battles, I'll rip out your beard and feed it down your throat."

Dumbledore could only nod weakly. Lily relaxed her grip slightly at that, but she didn't let go.

"I used to think of you as I would my own father," she said, her voice as cold as ice. "Now, however, you've betrayed my trust. You can consider all bonds you had with my family broken. You are not to initiate any meeting with us unless we seek you out first. From this day forward as far as I'm concerned you are the Headmaster of my children's school and nothing else. Is that understood?"

"It is," said Dumbledore.

"Good," said Lily, releasing her hold on his beard, and watching as Dumbledore fell backwards onto the hard stone rubbing his chin.

He half expected her to turn heel and leave at that moment, but to his surprise, she stayed and continued talking to him.

"You'll be happy to hear that you'll be getting off better than that goblin who sneaked you into the bank. Not only do you get to keep your head on your shoulders, but you'll also get your wand back tomorrow and be free to leave," said Lily, sounding none too happy by the prospect. "A pity really. You'd make a good hostage."

"Perhaps, but I can think of a great many other tasks I am better suited for," said Dumbledore.

"Yes, you're quite the important man," said Lily in a droll tone. "Known for your egocentric and quirky personality almost as well as your greatness. Despite the fact that you are so rarely seen in public your absence has become noticed, and King Ragnok is clever enough to realise that the new arrangement between our two species will be broken immediately if it is discovered that he imprisoned the Chief Warlock."

"Well he'll be glad to hear that I have no intention of going to the press about what transpired here," said Dumbledore, allowing a small smile to creep up onto his face.

Sadly, Lily did not share his smile. Instead, she merely ground her teeth together and said goodbye.

Dumbledore had to rush to his feet with speed that he did not know he possessed in order to call out to her before it was too late.

Unfortunately, Lily did not return. As he listened to the sound of her receding footsteps, Dumbledore voiced his apology anyway.

He was truly sorry he'd turned his wand on her family. He'd never wanted to hurt any of them, but he couldn't allow them to risk the boy's life. The fact that Harry survived such an unprecedented procedure was nothing short of a miracle, but knowing that he had meant Dumbledore had to find a way to go about repairing his damaged relationship with his family. Even if they wanted nothing to do with him anymore, he had to find a way.

Preparing them for their destiny was sure to be of paramount importance if the light side was going to be able to prevail against Tom in the future.

He'd understood for quite some time now that he could not fight this war alone. Each year his strength faded as his body aged, and he had long since made peace with the fact that he didn't have much more time left.

He would be perfectly content to greet death when his time came, but only once he'd helped Harry and his family prepare for their destiny.

He'd dedicated his entire life to fighting evil, and he would do everything in his power to stay until the threat of Tom Riddle was vanquished.


The first thing Harry noticed when he awoke was that he definitely wasn't in Gringotts anymore.

Everything around him was white, and it was so bright that he had to squint to allow his eyes to adjust to the light.

"Please don't let me dead," he said aloud as he tried to pull himself to his feet. That action proved to be a mistake as he felt his body react painfully, and Harry quickly lay back down.

After taking a minute to gather his strength Harry tried again to get up, this time doing it much more slowly. The result was that he was able to stand up straight, although he found it difficult to keep his balance.

"Now if only I knew where the hell I am," grunted Harry as he took in his surroundings, doing his best to ignore his intense headache.

The continuous white colour made it almost impossible for the eye to decipher depth perception, but as Harry continued to focus his mind began to comprehend the landscape around him.

The first things he recognised were the pillars, the second was the long line of benches, and third was the set of train tracks.

"King's Cross Station," whispered Harry, only this place was nothing like the real train station.

This has to be a dream, thought Harry, as he closed his eyes and tried pinching himself. When he opened his eyes he saw the same white landscape, so he tried pinching himself again making sure to bite his tongue as well. I need to wake up. I need to get home to my family.

Sadly, when he opened his eyes again, the white Kings Cross Station once again greeted him.

Beginning to feel a little scared, Harry tried walking along the platform, hoping to find something that wasn't white.

He passed thirteen pillars before he saw something that gave him hope. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, but at the end of the platform there looked to be a swirling red and gold ball of light.

Almost unconsciously, Harry quickened his approach. He couldn't explain it, but he felt drawn to the light much the same way he felt for that half a moment when he held Tom Riddle's diary down in the Chamber of Secrets.

That thought scared him, and actually caused him to halt his approach, but as Harry stood and watched the light he could feel it calling out to him. It didn't feel anything like Riddle's diary. It felt uplifting in a weird sort of way. It kind of reminded him of how he felt whenever he heard Hedwig trilling.

Cautiously, Harry renewed his approach. As he got closer to it, he started to feel a sense of comfort and familiarity within him. That ball of light must be radiating positive emotions or something, thought Harry.

Slowly, he made his way forward until he was standing right in front of the ball of light. It was so vivid in colour Harry was convinced he could reach out and touch it.

However, when he extended his arm, a voice came from behind him advising him against it.

Harry whirled around so fast he nearly lost his balance. The voice belonged to a man dressed in black robes with red and gold trim, much the same colour as the ball of light. He was standing approximately fifteen meters away and had his palms facing toward Harry as if to signal that he meant him no harm. He looked to be the same height as his father, and had similar black hair, although his was slicked back and fell to the length of his shoulders. In addition to the long hair, he also had a beard the size of Hagrid's. Unsure of who he was or where he'd come from, Harry just stared back at the man in confusion, waiting for him to speak. It wasn't a long wait.

"I must admit Harry, I was most surprised at your arrival. The fact that you've returned here while Voldemort remains at large is most troubling."

That statement scared Harry, so much so that his first reaction to hearing the man's words was to panic and run, but he knew he had to keep his cool. This man could be his only hope to get out of this place, and perhaps there was a perfectly logical explanation for what was going on. Maybe there was a chance he'd misheard what the man had said?

For his part, the man himself was either unaware or willfully ignorant of the internal debate raging inside of Harry's head. Instead, the man pulled an old pipe out of his pocket, filled it with tobacco, lit it and proceeded to inhale. What really startled Harry, however, was witnessing the man sit down on a bench that materialised out of thin air and put his feet up on a stool that rose out of the ground.

"Can't tell you how much I miss this stuff," said the man, as he took another puff on his pipe. "We don't get any of these things in the other realm."

That statement caused another wave of questions to rush through Harry's mind, but he settled on simply asking the man's identity.

Hearing him speak for the first time, the man turned his head and examined Harry closely as he puffed on his pipe. "You really don't know who I am?" he asked.

Harry scrunched up his face and shook his head. "How would I know who you are? I've never seen you before, and I have no idea where I am."

"You don't remember anything about me or this place at all?" questioned the man.

"I already told you no," said Harry, starting to get a little frustrated at having to answer this man's questions. It should be him asking the questions and getting answers since he had no clue what was happening at the moment.

The man looked at Harry for a long moment, before saying, "well, I guess that complicates things," as he rose to his feet and carelessly tossed the smoking pipe over his shoulder. Harry was amazed to see it vanish almost immediately after leaving his hand.

Harry felt his body tense as the man approached him, but he stood his ground.

"My apologies," said the man. "If I had known you had no memory of me I would've introduced myself at the beginning but I guess this is a bit of a new experience for both of us. The name's Godric Gryffindor, or just Gryff for short."

Harry's eyes went wide as he shook the man's hand. If this man was really Godric Gryffindor then that definitely didn't bode well for him. The man had been dead for hundreds of years.

"Okay ugh Gryff," said Harry as he pulled his hand back. "I don't mean to be rude but where exactly are we?"

For some reason, this question brought a smile to Gryff's face. "We're in the realm of space my boy," he announced, as he stepped back and spun around with his arms outstretched. When he stopped spinning, a glass of scotch had materialised in one hand and a cigar in the other. "Everything that exists on earth exists in this realm as well. You need only think of an object and it will materialise in your possession. Making an object disappear is even easier, for all you have to do is withdraw your touch and the object will vanish."

"What about people, can you call them too?" Harry asked, feeling hopeful for the first time since he'd seen the red and gold ball of light.

Gryff picked up on his hope immediately and his expression saddened as he gave his answer. "I'm afraid not. There is nothing living in this realm. The souls of the dead have either moved on from this plane of existence or reside in the brother realm of this one - the realm of time or purgatory if you rather."

"So that means that… I'm dead aren't I?" Harry asked, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Not necessarily," shrugged the man.

While it wasn't a definitive affirmation, this answer did little to relieve Harry's concerns.

"What do you mean not necessarily? How can I be both dead and alive? Surely it's one or the other."

"Does it have to be that way," said Gryff with raised eyebrows, before turning around and strutting down the platform.

Harry watched him go in confusion until he saw him pick up a clouded, crystal sphere that materialised right beside him. After that, the man began walking back towards him.

"Is it not possible to still feel alive after death, or to be dead while still roaming the face of the earth?" said the man, as he tossed the sphere at Harry, who caught it easily.

Looking into it, Harry saw Voldemort's face appear, and he quickly dropped the ball in shock. However, instead of crashing to the ground and breaking, it vanished as soon as it left his touch, much like the pipe Gryff had tossed away moments earlier.

Undisturbed, the man walked around the ball of red and gold light as he carried on speaking, either pretending not to notice that Harry was still enraptured by the crystal balls disappearance, or because he simply didn't care.

"You Harry are no ordinary boy, surely you've figured that out by now? To everyone else, death is certain and irreversible, but these rules don't apply the same to you."

"I… I don't follow," said Harry. "Are you saying I can return to my family?"

Gryff stopped his movement to look Harry in the eye and smiled. "Yes Harry, that is precisely what I'm saying."

Harry had never heard anything so good before, but as quickly as the excitement built up inside him, Gryff brought him back down by announcing that he will not be the same boy he was should he choose to return.

Harry didn't know how to respond to that, so instead, he just started asking other questions that were bothering him. "How come this is happening to me? Why didn't I go to the realm of time like every other soul when I died? Why am I being allowed to return?"

Gryff only smiled at Harry's questions and inclined his head towards the ball of red and gold light beside them.

"Do you know what this is Harry?"

Harry thought about it but ended up shaking his head. He doubted it was the Horcrux that was supposedly inside of him.

"It's your magical aura," said Gryff in a plain tone.

Once again, Harry's face drained of all colour.

"I've… I've lost my magic?" Harry asked, his voice sounding so hopeless, as he shrunk to the ground.

"Yes and no," replied Gryff, causing Harry to look back up at him.

"How can it be yes and no?" Harry asked, feeling a sense of déjà vu.

Once again, Gryff just smiled. "That Harry is a long story, but it's all made possible by the fact that your magic is comprised from more than one source – just like your life source. This aura has been taken from you by the failed ritual, yet you still possess another."

"My Horcrux," said Harry, tracing the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead.

"No, the Horcrux is a piece of a soul, just like the original one you were born with that resides in your body. Like the Horcrux, however, this aura originally belonged to another. It's been ripped from your body now, but with your own magical aura you can still produce magic – just not to the extent you could before."

The whole story made Harry's head spin in confusion, but it was something he needed to understand clearly. He couldn't help but wish Hermione was there to explain things to him. She'd understand what Gryff was telling him. Unfortunately, he was on his own, so Harry had to do his best to synthesise the information he was being given.

"So you're telling me that before the ritual I had my own soul and magical aura, Tom's Horcrux, and someone else's aura that I've now lost?"

"Yes," said Gryff, pleased with himself for being able to explain it all.

Harry, however, wasn't satisfied yet. He still had other questions. "So then who's aura was this originally?"

"Yours," said Gryff, the smile on his face growing larger.

"How could it be mine, you just said it belonged to someone else?" said Harry, his face scrunched up in confusion.

Once again, Gryff's smile grew. It was now so large it threatened to split his face in two.

"This is how I know of you Harry. In another timeline, your future-self performed a ritual that killed himself and sent his soul here where he visited me. He sacrificed his own life in order to send his magic back in time, to you, in the hope that you could prevent your world from succumbing to Voldemort like it did in his time."

Harry couldn't speak; he just stood there in shock. The existence of alternate timelines was mind-boggling in itself, but to think that he'd lived his entire life with the magical core of another version of himself left him speechless.

Sensing that it would be a while before he found his voice, Gryff laughed and sat back down on another bench that materialised underneath him.

He had already finished smoking another pipe of tobacco when Harry found his voice.

"So what you're saying… is that a part of my magical core… was from another timeline?"

Gryff could only smile. He probably shouldn't be, but he was really enjoying this.

"Didn't you ever question why you could perform magic so effortlessly at such a young age? Or why that proficiency seemed to decay, as you got older? This aura from your future-self has been with you ever since you were a baby. It helped protect you against Voldemort when he attacked you on Halloween and allowed you to heal your parents too. It wasn't until you matured, and your own magical aura expanded, that the effects of this one begin to diminish. The Horcrux inside you grows stronger every year, particularly in this last year, as I'm sure you noticed that there were times when you simply couldn't replicate spells that had previously come easily to you?"

Harry could only nod stupidly, mesmerised by the tale this man was telling him.

"Your future-self described such a phenomena occurring to him as well whenever he came in contact with another remnant of Voldemort's soul. The Horcrux inside of you would sense it's presence, and its strength was increased by the proximity of another soul piece. As a result, it would interfere with your own magical aura, making it more difficult than normal to control your magic and your emotions."

At this point, Harry knew that Gryff was telling him the truth. What he had just said described the feelings he'd had this past year perfectly.

"So… my future… what was it like?"

At that question, Gryff's smile faltered, and it took him some time to formulate a response.

"Your other timeline's life was not a good one. His parents died when Voldemort attacked him as a baby, and he was the victim of constant abuse at the hands of his aunt and uncle whom he lived with until he attended Hogwarts. He grew up neglected and unwanted, and yet he still turned out a marvellous young man. During his time at the Dursleys, your counterpart was constantly denied affection. Each year on his birthday he received a coat hanger or a tissue box, and each time he vowed to himself that maybe if he did more chores, he'd be good enough to get a real present the next year. Sadly, he never did get a real present from the Dursleys, but on his 11th birthday, he received his Hogwarts letter. Your alternate-self came into the Wizarding World not knowing anything of its existence, yet he was heralded as a hero nonetheless for defeating Voldemort as a baby just like you. At school, he became friends with a boy named Ron Weasley, and later a girl named Hermione Granger. The three of you had many adventures together and consistently fought against Voldemort and the forces of evil. Together they saved the school multiple times, and even the Ministry on a couple of accounts, but in the end, Voldemort's forces were too much. Virtually everyone you cared about died trying to prevent his rise to power, and when you finally realised there was no hope left for your world, you performed the ritual that sent your magic back into your former self."

"How… How can you know all this?" Harry asked dumbfounded by what he'd just heard.

"Your future-self told me," said Gryff. "He seemed to think that you would visit me one day and that it was important I be able to give you as much information as I could."

"Why did he think I would visit you?" Harry asked, wishing his mind could make sense of everything the man was telling him.

"Because your alternate self also died and came back to life after having the Horcrux in his head destroyed by Voldemort's killing curse," answered Gryff, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

But that means Dumbledore was right, thought Harry, making a mental note of how to get the Horcrux out of his head and also to tell the family that the Headmaster had the truth of it.

"Do you know about Tom's other Horcruxes? How did my future-self destroy them?" Harry asked.

"He didn't find all of them, but the ones he did he told me about," said Gryff, before he began listing them off on his fingers. "First there was the Horcrux inside your head. Second, there's the diary hidden in Hogwarts. Third, there was a wand locked below Buckingham Palace. The fourth was a ring hidden in a cave below Matterhorn Mountain in the Swiss Alps. The fifth was a cup at the bottom of Marianas Trench. Sixth was a dagger inside one of the Egyptian Pyramids. He also said he thought Voldemort made three more, and he assumed that his pet snake was one of them, but he wasn't sure.

Harry did his best to remember all of those locations, in case the Voldemort in his timeline had used the same hiding spots for his soul pieces. When he was confident that he would remember, he asked if Gryff had any other information for him that would help him defeat Voldemort.

"Only that you shouldn't be in any rush to fight him," said Gryff.

Harry almost laughed at that comment. "Trust me I'm in no rush. Without my alternate self's aura, I'm actually a little scared to find out how proficient at magic I still am."

"Then why don't you stay here and practice," suggested Gryff.

"I can't stay here I've got to get back to my family," said Harry.

Gryff just rolled his eyes in response and rose from the bench he'd been sitting on to stand beside Harry so he could clap a hand on his shoulder.

"Harry, don't you remember. Time doesn't exist in this realm. You could leave now or you can spend as long as you want here, either way, it'll make no difference, you'll still return to the realm of the living at the same time. Why not stay a while and take advantage of everything the realm of space has to offer." As if to prove his point, Gryff summoned a stack of textbooks into his hands, before shoving them into Harry's chest.

Harry didn't know what to think at that moment. He didn't want to have to stay here. He wanted to return home and be with his family. However, he also knew that he wouldn't be able to protect the ones he loved unless he was strong enough to stand against Voldemort. If his future self's aura was the reason he'd been able to do so in the past, then it really wasn't much of a decision. After all, this could be his only opportunity to regain his strength.

"You think this will allow me to relearn everything my future-self knew?" Harry asked as he looked through the stack of textbooks Gryff had given him.

Gryff simply shrugged his shoulders in response. "I'm not saying you'll be able to do everything you used to be able to do but the least you can do is try. I mean you learned it once, who's to say you can't do it again?"

"You're right," said Harry.

"Of course I'm right," laughed Gryff. "Now let's get to work, while you're here I got a few things I want to show you myself."


Try not to dishonour the family name again, thought Draco. Those words seemed to be all he ever thought about anymore.

It was the last thing his father had said to him, right after he'd confirmed his enrollment at Durmstrang with his old friend Igor Karkaroff.

That had been nearly a week ago.

Lately, he found himself thinking of his mother more and more and cursing his father for tearing their family apart. He didn't even want to go to Durmstrang, but he didn't dare voice his objection.

Lucius Malfoy was a frightening figure after all. He always had been in truth, but as a kid Draco never a reason to fear him. Sure his father had disciplined him at times, but it was nothing compared to the obedience he inspired in others.

Ever since he could remember Draco had admired the way his father could bring down his opponents politically with only a few conversations, or how he had the power to ruin an enemy financially. That ability had made him one of the most feared and powerful men in Britain.

Even now when they'd been forced out of Britain, Draco had witnessed his father claw his way back into a position of power. The only difference really was that now Draco was one of the many who feared his father. Before he'd always thought that his father would never harm his family, but now whenever he thought of his mother, he knew that to be a lie.

I have to get away from him, thought Draco. All he wanted was to escape from under his father's shadow, but that was easier said than done.

Even if he could leave, Draco had no place to go. Potter had seen to it that he couldn't return to Britain, and with an international arrest warrant on him and his father, Draco was forbidden to leave the estate property.

That fact, in particular, was also driving Draco slowly mad. Having never experienced it growing up, he didn't take to confinement well. His father, on the other hand, didn't seem to have a problem with it at all, and that annoyed Draco to no end.

Once at dinner, Draco had asked him how he could manage being locked up in a house so well, but Lucius had simply fixed him with his usual unflinching gaze when he wanted him to leave him alone. After that Lucius started taking his meals alone in his study, and Draco had actually lowered himself to conversing with the house elf for companionship.

At night he'd started stealing alcohol from his father's liquor cabinet. He figured it was the least his father could do for him since he'd essentially kidnapped him, and locked him in this house with no one to talk to. The elf had tried to stop him once, but Draco had smacked him over the head with the bottle and after that he kept quiet.

During the day, Draco would sit and count the hours as they passed by.

He often thought about what his father could be doing all the time in his study, but Draco had long ago come to the conclusion that Lucius was acting this way based on fear, and Draco also knew what scared Lucius.

He was scared of the Dark Lord, and what he would do to him after his father's failed plot at Hogwarts the year passed.

Having felt it himself, Draco knew that diary that his father possessed had been no ordinary artefact, and ever since he'd learned it had been destroyed Lucius had started acting differently.

For the most part, Draco simply tried to keep his distance - something that was becoming easier and easier. As the days went by, he actually found himself looking forward to going to Durmstrang.

At Hogwarts, he'd never fully invested himself in his studies, but now things were going to be different. He would attend Durmstrang without complaint because for now, all Draco could do was wait and bide his time.

When he was stronger, he vowed to get revenge on everyone who had wronged him.

Including his father.