Well, what do you know? Read enough stories and you might just find the motivation to write again. I'm back with the thing that Authors do that Readers hate - Writing a new story rather than updating the old ones. I hope you find it in you to forgive me. But if you look at the positive side, I think writing something is always better than writing nothing.

Disclaimer: So in conclusion what I would like to say is that I've already said too much and I'd like to end it here.

I do not own Harry Potter

As with all things explosive, it started out slow and ended with a bang.

The above statement could be applied to a lot of things in my life. My typical year at Hogwarts, my quidditch matches, an Auror mission to the lair of a budding dark lord; My life in general.

It might be foolish in hindsight to not expect that the entire place could be booby-trapped. But in my defense, most dark lords I fought against had enough self-preservation to not blow themselves out while trying to kill me. Most of the time their arrogance wouldn't allow the mere thought of someone else besting them to prepare for that contingency. But this particular idiot had the bright idea to set up an unstable runic array under his manor that detonated the entire vicinity to smithereens at the mere hint of danger.

Now that I think about it, didn't Voldemort blow himself out while trying to murder me with an unyielding death stick? Didn't that Romanian Vampire blast off the entire ceiling in an attempt to set fire to my Firebolt and get a nice, explosive suntan? It appears to me that self-preservation goes out the window for all these supposed dark lords whenever I come into the picture.

It's a little too late for that epiphany, I thought as I bled out under the rubble of the Victorian manor, surrounded by the bloody chunks of the idiot I was here to capture. Suffering from success, as it were. As the darkness crept over the blurry edges of my senses, I decided that if there really was a next great adventure waiting for me, I'd rather be a quidditch superstar than a savior of the masses. Death from collision at high speeds and immense heights was always a better alternative to dying from the paranoia of some coked-up upstart.

And then I died.

Only to wake up to the sight of a dementor hovering over me.

As far as first impressions go, this ranks on the other extreme of waking up to the sight of a wet-haired Fleur Delacour. But it's a testament to the life I've lived that I barely reacted to the presence of the unholy abomination that scared the souls out of most people. I noticed that I still had a wand in hand, and with a thought, a prancing ball of silvery bluish light raced out the end of my wand. The presence of the galloping stag hindered the dementor from making any unwanted advances upon my person, and as my Patronus readied itself for delivering a might kick onto the walking bundle of angst, the dementor hurried out of sight.

The absence of the dementor returned my life to normalcy, or about as normal as it could get, and the adrenaline wore off to the point that I started to perceive my surroundings. I was in a dark clearing, encircled by a mass of humongous trees. Patches of knee-high grass dotted the muddy ground and the full moon hung tall in the sky like a substitute Sun. The luminescence of the moon aided in my pursuit of clarity as I walked ahead in a random direction, and my gaze roamed over the suspiciously familiar sights.

I stumbled around the edge of the clearing and the path gave way to the glorious sight of Hogwarts, lit by the moonlight. I couldn't smother the twinge of nostalgia that shot through my chest like a spell and settled as a dull ache in my heart. Hogwarts, as always, was a sight for the sore eyes. Even if I had suffered a million lifetimes, the feeling of home that pervaded my senses would never fail to comfort me.

I stood there, taking in the view and basking in the feeling of contentment. A distant corner of my mind was blaring alarms, urging me to think upon how I ended up in the Forbidden Forest of all places. But as was the custom at this point, I ignored that urge and proceeded to amble over to the castle. A sudden burst of light in the distance snapped me out of my stupor and attracted my gaze to the gaggle of dementors rushing away from the source of light. The whole scene drudged up memories of my third year at Hogwarts. Any curious individual would race over to figure out what was happening but with age came patience, and I had grown up to be a very patient individual. I had seen time and time again that life progressed with or without our intervention and it's foolish to expect that you could alter the course of fate with your every move.

There was a time and place for action and it takes wisdom to know when.

The years were kind towards my opinion on Dumbledore. I had built up an immense reserve of anger towards that old man after I defeated Voldemort, for obvious reasons, but it was apparent over time that Dumbledore couldn't have done much to prevent what had happened. A few lives could've been saved but who's to say that someone else wouldn't have paid the price? It's hubris to believe that you could do everything and it's stupid to expect anyone else to.

My leisurely walk towards the castle was only interrupted twice, once by a flying hippogriff carrying two kids upon its back, and by the same hippogriff absconding with an emaciated man the second time. The picture was clear by the time I crossed the entrance to the great hall. It's the early months of 1994, and Harry Potter and Hermione Granger had just helped a fugitive escape.

It bears questioning the nature of my existence if the kids I had seen before were indeed the Boy-Who-Lived and his bushy-haired friend. As I pondered upon the metaphysical concepts of rebirth and duplicitous reincarnation, and not to mention the sheer pandemonium of having two Harry Potters running around, my feet led me to the Gryffindor dorms.

I waited at the entrance to the Gryffindor dorms with all the patience of a man who had lived a lifetime. Which was not much, to be honest. There was little time in my adulthood for pointless concerns. I racked my brains for the password but all I could remember was that it was complex enough to reduce Neville to tears every other day.

"Balderdash?" I guessed, staring expectantly at the unimpressed painting of the Fat Lady.

"You wish, kid," the Fat Lady quipped, looking for all intents like I pilfered her favorite bottle of scotch. "Must be mad if you think I'd ever let a Slytherin into my dorms."

Before I could dwell on her words, the door swung open to reveal the confounded visage of the very kid I was reminiscing about. "Neville! You're a sight for sore eyes."

The pudgy, fidgety boy shrank back in terror as if he had just witnessed his nightmare come to form. I blinked in confusion and looked back to see if I had by any chance dragged in a dementor in my stupor. All there was to see was an empty corridor, barely lit in the dark. I dragged my gaze back to Neville and stared in horrified fascination as the color slowly drained from his face with each passing second. The commotion attracted the attention of the few Gryffindors huddled in the common room and they looked at each other to debate just who was going to deal with this mess this late in the night.

A haggard-looking Katie Bell appeared to be the loser of the impromptu staring competition and she trudged over to the entrance with what she must be hoping to be a scary glare on her face. I had seen her make a fool of herself enough times in my life to ever be ruffled. She put a comforting hand on Neville's shoulder and stood in front of him as if defending the boy from evil.

All I could do was furrow my brows, wondering in the back of my mind if this was an alternate timeline where I cracked under the abuse of the Dursleys and turned into an aspiring dark lord. No other explanation made sense as to why all the Gryffindors were acting as if I was polyjuiced into looking like Malfoy.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Katie bit out threateningly.

My brain shut down for a moment. There wasn't any coherent thought left in my mind to formulate a sensible response. So I resorted to my most basic instinct when confronted by an angry woman. Flattery.

"Might I say, from one Quidditch star to another, that you look rather lovely tonight?" There was the sound of someone choking in the background. The bewildered expressions of the Gryffindors didn't distract me from the building rage on Katie's visage. Well, no one ever lauded me for being a diplomat. "See you around, love!"

You know what, I should have tested that polyjuice theory first.

I confess I ran straight to the second-floor girls bathroom after that debacle. The Gryffindors were left staring at my back in bafflement but I'm sure they won't be sad at the sight of me leaving. Except for Katie, maybe. That girl is mean, as anyone who knows her well enough can tell you.

I stood still, eyes wide open as I witness the culmination of all the sins I've committed in my past life. Draco Malfoy stared at me from the other side of the mirror. If this was a prank, then someone let the Weasley twins know that they have competition.

The pale, punchable face. The blond – almost white – locks, and effeminate looks. The white teeth that glittered with each smirk. The gray eyes that shone with malice. I am man enough to admit that Malfoy is a handsome bastard but he is a bastard still. I'd rather be born a girl than be a Malfoy. Believe me, I'd rather be Albus effing Dumbledore than Draco Malfoy. Merlin, I'd rather be Severus Snape than... you know what, may there is a silver lining to this tragic tale. At least I'm not Snape. Otherwise, I'd be breaking the world record for the fastest suicide after birth.

Time passed as I stood unmoving, my mind running at a rapid pace to catch up to reality. In any other situation, I wouldn't have been as disoriented but this was something I wouldn't have dreamt of in my worst nightmares. I am sane enough to realize that more than an hour had passed since I woke up in the body of my sworn enemy – not you Voldemort, you snake-faced creep – and that ruled out the possibility of this being a polyjuice mishap.

My musings about the unfairness of involuntary reincarnation were interrupted by the noise of a toilet flushing and the outflow of copious amounts of water. The ghost of Myrtle floated over to me with a curious look on her face.

"Hey, this is the girls bathroom! You can't be here..." she wailed with a scowl.

I thought this was a free country. This was the second time I was told that I shouldn't be somewhere. Is this the social exclusion that the Slytherins keep moaning about? I thought that was just those evil cookie monsters being dramatic.

"...unless you want to stay here with me?" A furious blush overtook her ghostly countenance. "You do look pale enough to be a ghost."

My vehement denial was curbed by my despair at the situation. "You know what, if things don't improve, I might just take you up on that offer."

I did not stay any longer to heed the demented giggles of the flirty ghost.

I was led by my memories to the Slytherin dorms. The dreary corridors greeted my presence and the musty smell invaded my nose as I entered the dungeons. My surroundings steadily turned greener as a hint of what was to come and I almost walked right past a nondescript brick wall before I was reminded by my failing memory that I had just missed the entrance. My sedate steps towards the hidden door were filled with more reluctance than the time I walked to my death in the Forbidden Forest.

"Pureblood?" I tried, hoping that the Slytherins were still the cookie-stealing, meanie-looking, cardboard evil characters that were blatantly obvious in their attempts to be 'dark'.

The rock did not budge.

I had to restrain myself from smacking my head onto the wall. Why couldn't things ever be simple? Of all the times for the Slytherins to grow some subtlety, they chose now. But they would learn – when Harry Potter is denied entry, no matter how secure the place might be, he would find a way – the goblins could attest to that. I glanced at the hidden corners of the corridor in search of stragglers before whispering 'open' in parseltongue. The rock slid to the side with a heavy scraping sound, alerting everyone inside to my presence. I had to withhold a sigh. Even when things worked out, they did in such a fashion so as to give me a headache.

I braved through the curious stares of the inhabitants and scurried over to the few kids that looked to be around my age. If I had paid anything but the bare minimum attention to the students of the Slytherin house in my past, I would have known that I was heading towards the second years but I did not. Hindsight continued to be a thorn in my side.

I sat beside a girl who looked vaguely familiar to me and immediately tried to strike a conversation. That was my first mistake.

"How's the homework coming along?" I believe I sounded like a concerned adult asking their nephew about school. Not that there's anything wrong with that but it just sounded creepy in this instance.

I can immediately tell the girl wanted to scoot as far away as possible from this blond-haired weirdo with an eerie smile on his face. Self-awareness is a horrible thing. But either proper decorum or – most probably – the Malfoy name stopped her from doing just that.

"Um, we're already done with exams…" the girl answered. "Why'd we have homework?"

There are certain things that a time-traveler should consider before venturing on their adventure – the first thing being to make sure you know exactly where you were on the timeline. That wasn't my second mistake. My second mistake was continuing the conversation when it was obvious that I had no clue about who I was talking to or what I was talking about.

"It's never too early to start working on your summer homework," I defended lamely and put on an air of wisdom. "Why, I already started on my fourth year material after the exams. All this intelligence didn't come naturally, you know."

It's apparent from the restrained smile on the girl's face that my attempt at self-deprecating humor worked. If it didn't, I'm sure she would just chalk it up to Malfoy being a braggart and a git as usual. A win-win, as it was. Now that I've managed to clear the air of awkwardness, I tried to fish for information. I might've lived a lifetime of this bullshit but there's no such thing as too much information. Unless we're talking about Dumbledore's sex life.

"Excited for next year?" I scoured my brain for anything that would sound like something a Malfoy would say. "I know I'd be happy to see Lupin gone."

From the visible confusion that marred her face, it seemed that I made my third mistake. The second thing on the agenda after being the victim of inadvertent time-travel was making sure that this was still the original timeline. There are infinite timelines out there, and if the flap of a butterfly's wings near Hogwarts could result in a tornado at Durmstrang, then it bears considering that you could have ended up in a different universe.

"Huh, who's Lupin?"

I was saved from answering by the shrill shout of a girl hollering my name. I barely had the time to twist my head to look in her direction before I was ambushed by a mob of teenagers. While all of them tried to speak over one another, the high-pitched voice of the first girl won out.

"Draco! What happened? Did Potter get into trouble again? I saw the Professors looking pissed when I was coming back."

I really should've headed directly for Pansy Parkinson after I woke up, for this pug-faced girl couldn't be anybody else. She was nosy enough to know everything that was going on in the castle and dumb enough to ignore anything weird about me.

"Of course, can you expect anything else from Potter?" I attempted the typical Malfoy smirk, and judging by the concealed distaste on some of the students' faces, I must've been successful. "Now tell me, what happened since I've left?"

"Well, Nott and Zabini tried to bet on how quickly you're going to get caught," The aforementioned boys shrunk back from my gaze. More so Nott than Zabini. Zabini actually looked like he would love to practice the Unforgivables on Pansy. Pansy was oblivious to that and was more focused on trying to win my praise. I couldn't take any more of her fluttering eyes and simpering smile so I patted her shoulder in what I hoped was an encouraging manner.

"I don't need to know about their little games, Pansy," I sighed, and tried to project my disappointment. If I had been looking at anyone else, I would've seen the flash of surprise on their faces. "Tell me if anything important happened."

Pansy recoiled as if struck and averted her eyes. She gave a hesitant nod and it appeared as if my little rebuke had sapped all of her enthusiasm. To be honest, I was disturbed by how well my amateurish attempt at manipulation worked. Either the Slytherin common room was bringing out my inner-Salazar or this was how malleable these thirteen year old were. I was leaning towards the latter. Dumbledore appeared to be this immensely wise and manipulative mastermind but I am just starting to realize that he had it easy with the students of Hogwarts.

"I heard from some of the first years that Potter and the mudblood were admitted to the hospital wing just before you returned," Pansy informed in a subdued tone. I was starting to feel a little guilty actually. It was like pushing away an overeager puppy. In recompense, I patted her head and smiled gently in her direction. It was scary how quickly her mood flipped after that. "But Draco, did you really find their secret hideout?"

What secret hideout? I am sure I did not have any secret hideouts when I was in my third year but if Lupin was not the defense professor then who's to say that I did not have a hidden base of operations? A place from where I pulled the strings and moved the pieces across the board...lol, who was I kidding? I was an idiot in my third year and I am probably an idiot in this timeline too.

But if there was no such hideout, what was it that she's blabbering about? The epiphany hit me like the killing curse. Of course, Draco would think that the Shrieking Shack was our hideout, especially if he's seen the golden trio of this world run towards it in a hurry in the middle of the night. And Draco being Draco would definitely follow them, wishing for that one chance to get one over Harry Potter. The chips started to fall into place as I thought about the chain of events. Whatever happened at the Shrieking Shack, I'm sure it was enough to make Draco abandon his diabolical schemes to trail the trio out of fear.

Usually, that'd just force the Malfoy heir to scurry back to the Slytherin dorms to recoup and take advantage of this new information. He'd gloat about it to anyone with an ear and make life hell for everyone else involved. But what changed this time was the presence of the Dementors. His path back to the castle was blocked by the spawn of hell and it ended with Draco's soul being sucked out. That must be when I made my entry into the soulless husk of the late Draco Malfoy.

The sudden clarity regarding the cause behind this transmigration didn't exactly brighten my mood. If anything, it just made it worse. Draco was a right pain in the arse but I would never wish death upon the imbecile, even if it meant the chance to live again. Very few people deserved that kind of horrific death and, as terrible as Malfoy was, he was not on that list.

...well, I'm definitely not going to spill any tears though. I've grown past the point where I am bothered by the unfairness of death and if there was one life I am not reluctant to usurp, Malfoy's would be it. There's scarcely a life that would offer more comfort.

If I tell myself ample times that I deserve this, I might just be able to sleep at night.

I glanced around, noting the eager expressions of my classmates, and suppressed an amused smile. The people around me bore my silence with acquired patience but the girl I was talking to before I was rudely interrupted by the mob had no such qualms.

"Come on, did you or did you not find the secret hideout?" the black-haired girl, whose name I still don't know, asked the question that was on everyone's lips.

I let out a tiny smirk and rose from my seat. I walked towards what I hoped were the boys dorms and twisted on my heels as I reached the steps. "What do you think?"

The annoyed grumbles of my classmates was music to my ears.

Daphne watched as the blond hair of Malfoy disappeared behind the stairs. She paid no attention to the confused and disappointed murmurs of her classmates, focused on her little sister as she was. Astoria had enough cunning beneath her bubbly exterior to ever be fooled by Malfoy but it never hurt to make sure.

She rounded up on the black-haired girl the moment the rest of the Slytherins dispersed to their own places, and sequestered her to an isolated corner. Astoria watched with a perplexed frown as Daphne glanced around for eavesdroppers before directing her piercing blue-eyed gaze towards her sister.

"Did he do anything to you?" Daphne said in a harsh whisper.

"What do you think happened?" Astoria replied in incredulity. "We're in the common room, Daph. Even Draco's not stupid enough to try anything here."

"You can never underestimate his stupidity," Daphne shot back but her shoulders slumped in relief. She knew that Malfoy couldn't blatantly threaten anyone with all their housemates around but more often than not, whispered words did more damage than a wand. Cleverer than most people her age her sister might be, all the wisdom in the world couldn't save you from the malice of the more powerful. "And since when did you start calling him Draco?"

"Oh, come off of it," Astoria was usually patient with her sister's paranoid antics but the blond-haired girl was taking it to the extreme. She had barely talked to the Malfoy heir for a few minutes and her sister was acting as if she was in training to be his Dark lady. "What's got you so antsy? Don't tell me Malfoy got you so riled up."

Daphne sighed. She knew that she was being unnecessarily apprehensive but there was something different about Malfoy tonight. He was lacking his typical arrogance and the annoying smirk but more than that, his eyes were vigilant. The Malfoy she knew liked to think himself to be smart but his gaze was vacant. But today she watched as the gray eyes roamed over each of them, observing and taking in every little detail. It was a trait that people developed only through experience. Her father trained his two daughters to be perceptive but she knew that she was still lacking in comparison to the Greengrass patriarch, and she had seen a gaze like her father's on Malfoy today.

Not to mention the lack of retaliation towards Nott and Zabini for the perceived slight. It was as if he had better things to do than concern himself with the clamor of his peers. It was a show of maturity that she didn't think Malfoy was capable of.

"There's something different about him," Daphne answered at last. "I can't place what it is but...it's better to keep an eye on him."

"Oh?" There was a mischievous tint to Astoria's voice. It's a testament to Daphne's unease that she didn't immediately pick up on it. "What else do you have in mind, Daph?"

"Hmm, I'll talk to Pansy to see if she knows anything else about what happened," Daphne bit her lip in thought, not noticing the impish smile on her sister's face. "I might be worrying over nothing but it's better to wait and see."

"Yeah, you should never rush these things," Astoria nodded in agreement. "Romance should happen naturally."

Daphne was about to nod along before her sister's words registered in her mind. "...What?!"

"I know you're at the age where you start getting these urges, dear sister, I am not faulting you," Astoria skipped out of her sister's reach, her eyes shining with mischief. "I just think you should be more subtle about it."

"Tori, what the heck are you talking about?" Daphne asked with a twitching eyelid, her hand inching slowly towards her wand.

"I thought you were worried about your little sister but I can see it now," Astoria spoke as if she had come to a ground-breaking realization. "You were jealous that he was talking to me."

"Did you catch his stupidity in the little time he was with you?"

Astoria was nonplussed. "Malfoy of all people, Daph? I should've known you had something for pretty boys with smoky gray eyes."

"Come here, Tori," Daphne said softly but her eyes promised untold amounts of retribution.

"You'll never catch me," Astoria yelled back as she ran to the girls' dorms.

Daphne ran after her devilish little sister as gracefully as possible but the angry sparks trailing out of her wand ruined the impression. "Tori, you better hope you're dead by the time I catch you."

For the second time that day, I woke up to darkness.

Mint green light danced around the room, leaving pale shadows in its wake. The bed I laid on felt as if it was comfier than clouds or that might just be the tiredness talking. I would've liked to wake up to sunlight, as I did in my old bed in the Gryffindor dorms, but there's something about the dreariness of the dungeons that appealed to my old soul. I took my sweet time getting out of bed and none of my roommates bothered me in their attempts to be friendly.

I fear I am starting to like being in Slytherin.

That dreadful thought shook away the last vestiges of my sleep and I trudged over to the washrooms in a manner befitting a grumpy old man like me. The dorm was empty by the time I walked out and I cast a wandless tempus to check the time.

9:30 AM, it read.

Great, I missed breakfast. Being an undernourished boy my whole previous life, I know the importance of having a healthy breakfast, and if I didn't know that I could pop over into the kitchens anytime I want, I would've been grumpier than I already am. Damn those wily Slytherins. Sabotaging me from the very first day. Would it shrivel their wicked souls if they woke me up before the end of breakfast?

With those cheerful and hypocritical thoughts running through my mind, I walked into the common room with all the enthusiasm of a man walking to the gallows. The room was brimmed with people and I was reminded that this was the end of the year. Only a day or two were left before everybody left for their homes, and wasn't that a terrifying thought. If fooling my classmates was like a walk in the park, then pretending that I'm Draco Malfoy with Lucius and Narcissa would be akin to taking a stroll through Azkaban.

There's no way in hell that I could fool a mother's intuition. All I could hope for was that they'd chalk up any changes in my behavior to puberty.

Paying no heed to the happenings around me, I ambled over to the sole empty couch by the fireplace, lost in worry over the immediate future. There were three couches in total, laid in a U pattern around the hearth. The one right in front of the fire was occupied by a sole girl, who looked to be in her fifth year.

Her sleek brown hair tumbled down her shoulders, and her pale skin shone in the dimness of the room. She had an angular face with high cheekbones, and her visage reminded me of the paintings of the princesses of the old. Her eyes wandered along the lines of an old tome, her lithe frame draped over the back of the couch. There was an aura of subtle malevolence around her that dissuaded people from bothering her, which might be the reason why she had the entire couch to herself.

...I wouldn't be touching that with a ten-foot pole. Too much risk for a seat.

The couch to the immediate right had twins strewed over in a haphazard fashion. I was a little familiar with the Carrow twins in my past life but not enough to encroach upon what was obviously their territory. The younger of the two was engrossed in a one-sided conversation with the elder one, but the elder sister had her gaze focused on my approach. There was a challenge in her stare but why and what for, I didn't know and didn't want to find out.

That's another ten-foot pole just waiting to be used.

All that's left was the couch to the left, glaringly empty in the bustling little room and too tempting for what was merely a mess of leather and feathers. If I were a Slytherin, I would've minded my own business and left it well alone to leave for some crowded corner but I was Gryffindor by nature; Too brave and stupidly reckless for my own good.

My every step echoed like a gong as I walked to the couch, and slowly but surely, eyes turned. Conversations were interrupted as students ceased their talk to focus on my stride and the people who were aware poked the unaware into awareness. There was an unseen tension hanging in the air like a noose, and the knot tightened with each passing second.

I felt a tiny jolt of excitement shoot up my spine. Who knew Slytherin was so much fun?

The hat might've been right when it said that I was well-suited for Slytherin. At the time, I assumed that it meant that I was a manipulative little cunt but I was getting the impression that the sorting hat implied that I would thrive in this den of vipers. My brand of chaos was perfect for these scenarios.

I dropped down into the seat and all commotion in the room ceased in an instant.

It was as if someone activated a dormant silencing ward lying under the floor. The deadly silence was filled with surreptitious glances from the younger students and thinly veiled sneers from the older ones. No one dared to make a peep and everyone waited for the other shoe to drop.

For the first time since I entered the room, the girl sitting on the center couch lifted her gaze from the book. She didn't utter a word as she fixed her brown-eyed stare on me but I could see the gleam of interest shining in her eyes. Her ruby-red lips twitched in a mockery of a smile and I got the feeling that she was immensely amused by my little act of rebellion.

The twins sat up straight and while the younger of the two, was it Hestia or Flora? I always get confused, made an attempt to say something, the elder one silenced her with a tap on the thigh. From the thinly-veiled smile playing on the elder sister's lips, it was evident that whatever her challenge was, I rose up to it. Darn it.

All these subtle – but childishly blatant to the experienced eyes – signs made me realize that I crossed an invisible line that no one had ever dared to cross. Before I could drop all pretenses of decorum and ask someone just what crime I had unwittingly committed, an irate voice pierced through the silence like a cutting charm.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Malfoy?" Adrian Pucey stood at the bottom of the steps like a minion of Morgana, his face red with anger or exertion. His square jaw was rigid with indignation and the tightness of his lips could make Professor McGonagall green with envy.

Why do people keep assuming that I know what I'm doing? I am akin to a blind man stuck in a maze here.

"I don't know, you tell me," I replied honestly but from the clenching of Pucey's jaw and the muffled snickers from the crowd, I could tell that my confusion wasn't conveyed properly.

"That's my place you're sitting in," For all that the Slytherin's are blamed for being prone to violence, Pucey was showing remarkable restraint; or it could just be that the caution was borne out of fear for the Malfoy name.

"I don't see your name here," I said and immediately cringed in embarrassment. What was I, a thirteen-year-old? Sirius would be rolling in his grave, I could tell.

It appeared that my stupid response was the last straw. Pucey whipped out his wand, and its tip glowed an ominous red. Whatever spell he's planning on, it's apparent that it's not a stunner. Some of the students jerked in fright at the sudden possibility of bodily harm but the older years looked on as if all that was missing for them to enjoy this early-morning entertainment was some popcorn in their hands. "So you're violating the rules of the hierarchy? You know what this means."

I don't know what it means. What am I, a seer? But it's obvious that it's got something to do with dueling for honor or some such archaic bullshit. I didn't have the patience to go along with this schoolyard fight but this situation escalated far too quickly for me to diffuse it with mere words. At this point, all I could do was go with the flow and hope that I could stamp down Pucey's rage with the power of overwhelming force. Surely this approach couldn't go wrong.

I stood up with great reluctance, and my wand appeared in hand with a twist of my wrist. Students hurried out of my way as I moved to the center of the common room, eager to let the drama play out. I could perceive the concealed glee on the faces of most kids at the thought of me being put in my place and I couldn't find it in myself to be bitter. Malfoy somehow manages to piss off anyone he meets within a minute – Lucius suffered from a similar affliction. I would've believed it to be a family curse if I didn't know any better.

Pucey stood a few meters ahead, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. His posture belayed his confidence and if it had been any other third-year student, his confidence would've been justified.

"Know how to duel, Malfoy?" the fifth-year boy mocked, with a lilt of condescension to his tone.

"I'll manage," my clear lack of apprehension was throwing off a lot of people but they must be chalking up to my typical arrogance.

Pucey went on to bluster but a soft whisper cut through his tirade. The girl who was observing the happenings from her place on the center couch rose out of her seat, instantly quieting the murmurs and gathering the interest of everyone in the room. "I will adjudicate this duel."

I am not sure what it was about her that demanded the obedience of every Slytherin but her interference must've been a big deal, going by the visible surprise on Pucey's visage. He blinked out of his shock and floundered for a response.

"I don't think it will be necessary, Selwyn," Pucey looked around for support but found none. "This will be over before you can blink."

"I insist," she said and that was it.

Pucey gave a jerky nod and visibly composed himself. The murmurs that were quietened at her presence did not pick up again but I could feel the tension in the room skyrocket. My classmates – who till now were torn between supporting me, sneering behind my back, and trying not to stand out – looked as if I had summoned the devil herself.

Seriously, who is this girl and why am I so aroused?

"I can toy with him for a while if you want," I am not sure why flirting was my default response when confronted by a pretty girl in a terrible situation but I am certain that my father is to blame. Probably Sirius too. The girl, Selwyn was it?, quirked an eyebrow in amusement. But the rest of them were torn between astonishment and incredulity as if they couldn't believe that I dared to flirt in this circumstance. Nobody ever said that I can read the room. "or do you like quick and painless?"

"Entertain me," was her response. Not a girl of many words, is she?

"Quick and painless it is," I retorted, and the gleam of interest in her eyes turned into something darker and sexier. Or that might just be me reading too much into it. Puberty doesn't help.

Pucey turned a color befitting his name in the meantime and I mentally braced myself for a few dark curses. Not that I was going to give him the opportunity. He shifted into an elaborate stance, one hand tied behind his back while the one holding the wand was pointed forward, parallel to the floor. He put one foot ahead of the other and tilted a bit to the left, offering less area for attack. His head was facing straight, neck taut with tension, and his pointed stare pierced imaginary holes into my frame – if eyes could shoot spells, this duel would've been over for me before it even began.

Not a bad stance, all things considered.

But what they don't teach you in fancy Pureblood home-schooling was that you don't need a complicated stance to win duels. All this diatribe about 'proper' dueling stances was pioneered by dueling masters looking for a living and found a great opportunity to scam the pompous Purebloods out of their wealth. If I hear one more time that dueling was akin to dancing, I am going to commit murder. If anything it was more like flailing for balance on thin ice – not an accurate description but a much better sight than dancing.

All you require was a loose posture that allowed you to move at a moment's notice and enough balance to not fall face-first onto the floor. Everything else in between was open to improvisation.

I twirled my wand between my fingers and slackened my frame. There were muffled snickers around the room at my lack of stance but they would learn soon. I noticed through the corner of my eyes that Pucey's smirk widened and I had to smother a smile. Kids these days, man, too damn smug for their own good.

Selwyn met our gazes and with a slight nod, she shot sparks into the air.

"Expelliarmus," I intoned quietly to avoid undue attention for my nonverbal casting, my wand flicking at a speed that's almost imperceptible to the naked eye, and a scarlet bolt raced through the room at the speed of light. It didn't even matter what advanced spell Pucey was planning on as his wand soared through the air and landed in my hand.

It seemed as if time halted for a moment.

The thing I love about dueling was that while it mattered how skilled you were at magic, at the end of the day, speed triumphed over everything. You could be the master of the ancient arts but if your opponent could stun you before you could mumble a syllable, defeat is all you would know throughout your life.

And there's scarcely a person in all of the infinite timelines that could cast a disarming charm quicker than me.

Pucey stood still in his place, his mind struggling to catch up to reality. The students around me glanced around with blank faces, wondering what had happened, while the experienced ones stared at me with reappraising looks.

Some time-travelers in my place might resort to complex spells to prove their superiority over their opponent, risking suspicion and future headaches, but there's a beauty to simplicity that was overwhelming to most.

I took a quick peek at Selwyn and the heat in her gaze almost burned me. It was as if she had stumbled upon the philosopher's stone but the stone was stuck in a mirror that only let you have it if you didn't desire it – I had seen first hand the effect it had on a person. An old coot Dumbledore might've been, he perfected the art of driving people mad.

I am not an expert on understanding women – as far as possible from it, in fact – so don't take my word for it.

Ignoring the abrupt chaos that erupted around the room, I sauntered over to the couch and collapsed into it. "Guess no one has any other objections?"

There weren't any.

I was about to drift off into a comfortable nap by the fireside to dissuade people from disturbing me, sinking into the soft cushions, when the entrance slammed open and a portly, bald man walked in as if he owned the place. His gooseberry-colored eyes scanned the room, pausing on me at last, and his walrus-like mustache twitched in surprise.

"What is this I hear about a duel in the common room?" Horace Slughorn, in all his fat and jiggly glory, walked forward until he was standing in the middle of the room. His question might've been addressed to the room but his gaze was fixed on me. I guess a third-year resting on one of the much-coveted couches must've given me away. His eyes demanded answers but all that my brain could manage was...

What the fuck.

Author's Note: Down the rabbit hole we go again. Who needs canon anyway?

As I end this chapter here, there's this one little thing that I've been curious about since the beginning of time. What's the best day and time to post an update on Fanfiction? My opinion is Wednesday and 1 PM EST. What do you think? I'd be grateful if you could post the time when you usually read fanfiction (Don't forget the timezone :P).

In case anyone would like to support an aspiring author, you can find me on the site that fanfiction hates under the name 'Samuel Polin (Tony Samuels)' or 'sitename/samu3ls'. I can't tell you name of the site but I can tell you that it rhymes with 'Matron'. You won't be getting to read any extra chapters or find anything interesting in there. At this point, it's only there to put me on the map, so to speak. No pressure!

Don't forget to leave a review. Thank you and see you next chapter!