Angelika! Thank you for being such an enthusiastic reviewer. You give me a lot to think about.
I have eight chapters written now, but I'm keeping them away so I can back-edit as needed when I think of a new plot twist. Muahahahaha. But here's the fifth to keep you amused. I stopped writing this for a long time, but I've written three chapters in the last three days, so I think it's going again.
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It is our choices that show what we truly are.
Disclaimers – They're not necessary. If I owned Harry Potter, I wouldn't be posting this on FF.N.
Chapter Five
Back to School
The last month of the summer holidays passed more or less uneventfully. Fred and George blew the wall out of their room, but it was fixed; Hermione's cat Crookshanks tried to eat a chicken, but it was saved. The boys played a lot of Quidditch, but none of them were permanently injured.
Also, they were attacked.
Harry and Hermione had been once again holding Ron back from attacking Draco, who had made no effort to break himself of his tendency towards senseless provocation and to prove it, had accused Ron of cheating at Quidditch. Ron was indignant. Draco leaned against the outside wall of the Burrow, looking as complacent as he possibly could, and enjoying the havoc he had wreaked.
Harry remembered seeing a vague blur hit the wall right next to Draco. His first wild thought had been that Fred and George had shot Pigwidgeon out of a cannon. However many times he played it back in his head, he couldn't remember where it had come from - the first anyone noticed of it was the dent it left in exactly the spot Draco's head had been a moment before.
The next second, they were being showered with rocks. Their argument was quickly forgotten as they all ran for cover. Harry dodged left and right, feeling strangely as if he were playing Quidditch.
He had heard a yell behind him. Draco had fallen and was lying on the ground, arms clutched over his head. Harry glanced up to see a vicious blur hurtling down on Draco. Before he knew what he was doing, he had leapt for it and closed his hand upon it.
A few more rocks thudded into the ground, and all was silent. Draco, shaking with the tension of near harm, unfolded himself and stood up shakily, staring at the rock sitting harmlessly in Harry's still outstretched Quidditch glove.
Harry couldn't hear for the buzzing in his ears. He could see Hermione at his side, saying something he didn't understand. "What?" he said dully.
"I said, you saved his life," she repeated, wrapping her hand in her sleeve and taking the rock from Harry. Examining it more closely, they had seen nothing unusual, and had told her so.
"It might have given him some brain damage, but that wouldn't have killed him!" objected Ron. He looked like he felt cheated.
"You don't read, I forgot," Hermione said, sighing. She turned toward a bare patch of ground and flung down the rock. It had made a slight indent, but no worse.
"What are you talking about?" said Draco, frowning and rubbing his unharmed head. "It's just a rock." He reached down to pick it up.
"DON'T!" screeched Hermione, and pulled him back. He looked bewildered.
"Look at it," she said. "Just watch. That ant's going to climb on it."
"Mad, she is," muttered Ron to Harry. "Thinks the ant is going to kill Draco. Mind you, I wouldn't complain."
"That's been made obvious," Harry had answered, still watching the rock. The ant paused before it, considered, reached out its tiny antenna…
and crumbled into dust.
Draco started to perplexedly reached out to poke the had-been-ant, and then had come to his senses and moved away from the rock. "That's wrong," he said.
"That's a cursed rock," said Hermione. "It kills every living thing it touches." Surely enough, when they had looked around, every fallen rock was lying in a patch of bare dirt.
Draco swallowed loudly, looked at Harry with wide eyes, and said, "You saved my life." He didn't seem sure whether to be ingratiated or offended.
Harry had said stupidly, "I didn't mean to." Ron laughed, and then, realising his mistake, Harry had amended, "I mean, it was instinct."
Draco laughed hollowly. "Yeah, saving us seems to be second nature to you."
Ron's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying, Malfoy, that you would rather that rock had hit you? Because I can arrange that."
They all ignored that.
"How did you know it would do that, Hermione?" asked Harry.
"It seemed to glow a bit when you turned it away from the sun," she had told them. "I read about a potion like that that makes things untouchable in One Thousand and One Illegal Potions."
"But if it was that…" asked Draco, and they were all focused on Hermione now, "where did it come from? Rocks just don't rain from the sky."
They all turned to Harry, as if he knew someone who dropped poisonous rocks for fun. He shrugged. "I don't think rocks are Voldemort's style."
Draco stared up. "If I didn't know better, I'd say it was that bloody Muggle who called me 'boy' and got dirt all over my clothes, out to exact revenge for me not riding in her car."
The other three looked at him as if they suddenly suspected him of being in some weird cult (other than the Death-Eaters, that was). He shrugged and said, "Well, I'm popular. Most people like to be in my good graces. Pity she took it so hard."
Ron shook his head in bewilderment. "Let's just round them up before Mum or somebody gets hold of one."
They gathered the rocks and buried them. Hermione had done her best to neutralise the poison, but they still didn't want to leave them sitting around. None of them wanted to tell the Weasley family for fear of being made to stay inside for the rest of the holidays.
"Harry?" said Hermione
"What?" He didn't suppose he knew anything useful that she didn't.
"Do you want anything from the trolley?"
Harry blinked and fell out of his memory back onto the Hogwarts Express, making its way towards school for another year.
"Oh, er… yeah."
He got some candy and shared it with Ron and Hermione. Draco had deserted them as soon as they got to the station, apparently desperate for some Slytherin companionship. Or drooling entourage, as Ron liked to call it.
They were quite relieved to get rid of him, although not as relieved as they thought they would be. They had started to get used to him.
He was acting nasty as usual again, being around his Slytherin mates, and looking like he was having quite a good time at it. Crabbe had apparently learned to talk over the summer, and was picking up pointers from Draco on being offensive and admirable at the same time.
Crabbe stuck his head in the door of their compartment. "Oh, look, it's the fantastic trio," he jeered. "How's it going, Potter? Any murder attempts lately?"
"Yes, but sadly, you still seem to be here," Harry retorted. He suspected that the giggling outside the door belonged to Malfoy and Goyle, and wondered if Draco had completely forgotten the whole "deadly rock" incident.
Crabbe ignored Harry's reply and moved on to his next target. "Granger. Nice hair. I see you've decided to stick with the "beaver" look?" He ignored the facts that not only did frizzy hair have nothing to do with beavers, but Hermione's teeth no longer resembled a beaver's in any way and, in fact, had not since early fourth year. His memory was commendable, if not his observation skills.
Hermione had not stuck to the "beaver look," as he called it, but she did stick with her usual response of rolling her eyes and ignoring him.
"And Weasel boy!" Crabbe seemed to be getting discouraged, but plowed on. "Still poor, eh? Pity." Some of the snickering outside the door abated. "Your mother really could use a new dress. Her old one makes her look like a hobo clown."
Ron stood up. "Shut up about my mother."
"What, who's gonna make me? You?"
"No, me." Crabbe turned around to see Draco standing with his hands on his hips. "Shut up about his mother, Crabbe. There are some things you just don't touch. You've got a lot to learn."
"But you said…" Crabbe trailed off, trying to remember just what Draco had said.
"What did I say? Not that you can talk about Weasley's mother, that's for sure." Draco narrowed his eyes. "Go get me a hot chocolate, or I'm not speaking to you."
Terrified at the prospect of losing his claim to fame, Crabbe hurried off.
"Well, Goyle?" Goyle clearly had no idea what Draco wanted him to do. "Go with him!"
Goyle hurried off in pursuit.
"It's nice to see you care about somebody besides yourself, Draco," said Ron. "Though why you like my mother so much is lost on me." He froze, realising that he should have phrased that more carefully. Any old evil prat could twist that sentence around.
Draco didn't bother. "I like your mother, Weasley," he said, "because your mother likes me." He strode in and took a seat next to Harry, making himself welcome to the candy before pushing it to one side.
Hermione, Ron and Harry went silent, mystified by the simplicity of Draco's declaration. "So," Hermione said, "You mean, 'treat as you would like to be treated'? How… logical." She clearly had not believed he had that sort of sense.
"Certainly not!" he protested. "It goes, 'treat as you are treated.' I'm not going to waste kindness on some vicious prat who wouldn't help me for his life." He fixed his eyes on Ron.
"Neither am I," said Ron.
Hermione rolled her eyes, as was her wont. "You boys! You're so much alike that you can't possibly get along."
They looked very offended. "We are NOT alike," Ron and Draco said in tandem.
Harry, who had been spectating, shook his head oddly. "Whatever. This is just still weird."
"What's weird, Harry?" Ron asked.
"You and Draco, not trying to kill one another."
"We are, Potter," Draco sneered. "We are. In our heads."
"You're something in your heads," said Hermione. "But pretend to hate each other, if you insist. Just hand me a chocolate frog first."
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The first feast of the year at Hogwarts never failed to be extravagant. Thousands of lit candles drifted lazily above the tables, which were laden to the point that they creaked with hundreds of golden plates and goblets. Far above the students, the ceiling flashed with lightning and early-autumn stars. Excited chatter echoed around the Great Hall as friends rushed to greet each other. The staff looked happy to be back at work, even Snape, though he showed it with a cross smirk that made the younger students cower.
"Harry!" shouted a very excited boy.
Harry turned, and wondered if he could run for it. Heading toward him was Colin Creevey, a Gryffindor two years younger than he and possibly the most annoying admirer he had ever had. It was nice to be liked, but Harry was worried that Colin would end up going insane and killing him in his sleep. He would hate to have survived certain death so many times only to go out unexpectedly like Selena.
"Harry! Hi, Harry! Wow, you're a sixth year now, aren't you, Harry! Did you have a good summer, Harry?"
"Er, yeah, Colin. Yeah. Great."
"Isn't this great, I'm so excited about this feast! So is my brother! He's a third year now!"
Harry could see Dennis Creevey waving maniacally at him from halfway across the Great Hall. He waved back quickly, and hurried after Ron and Hermione.
"There you are, Harry!" said Hermione.
Ron added, "C'mon, let's get seats! I'm starving!"
The students slowly migrated to the benches, lured by the promise of food. They stared hungrily at the staff table, waiting for the Sorting and the start-of-term announcements.
Presently the first years came in, looking terribly nervous as always. They walked between the long tables as if they were running the gauntlet, only far more hesitantly. Harry grinned at them for encouragement. He could see Draco, across the hall, making stern faces at them. Harry wasn't quite sure whether he was trying to scare them or tell them to look at Professor McGonagall.
Harry didn't recognise any of the new students. It made him feel old. The Sorting seemed agonisingly slow, and their plates looked agonisingly bare. Rubbing his stomach to keep it from growling, Harry stared blankly up at the front of the hall until Professor Dumbledore finally stood up. Every student in the hall applauded.
"Welcome back to Hogwarts," called Professor Dumbledore. "I have just a couple of announcements, and then I will leave you to the feasting part of this feast." A few of the older students cheered.
The headmaster smiled. "Now, then. First off, I would like to introduce our customary new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Snape."
A worried whisper filled the hall. Professor Snape had wanted this job for years, and was quite clearly pleased - he was scowling terribly, which was his favourite expression. The students, however - especially Gryffindors - knew that what Snape wanted tended not to be good for them. The Slytherins, being Snape's house, were ecstatic, as this meant preferential treatment in a new class.
"Filling in the uncustomary Potions vacancy will be a new teacher, Professor Bush." Professor Bush was a short, grey-haired witch with a slightly dazed smile, as if she weren't quite sure where she was. She greeted the students with a neat bow and sat down again, looking at Professor Dumbledore for cues.
"I hope you will all make Professor Bush feel welcome, and perhaps she will want to stay for next year as well." Professor Dumbledore and the students laughed, and Professor Bush looked confused and slightly worried. Dumbledore was apparently afraid that she was going to run out on them any second, because he went on quickly.
"And now, what we're all here for!" He raised his hands (in the process knocking over his empty goblet with his left sleeve and Professor McGonagall's with his right) and declared the feast begun. Mounds upon mounds of food appeared upon the tables. The first years gasped and everybody else set in on the feast without stopping to take a breath.
Draco was sitting with Crabbe and Goyle as he usually did. He watched, disgusted, as they scarfed down everything they could reach. What pigs! No wonder their brains didn't work - they were clogged.
To amuse himself while he picked at his dinner, he stared at Harry unabashedly. It made the boy squirm. Draco smirked as the Dream Team held an impromptu meeting to figure out his motives. Bloody well useless, he thought. It was for no reason. The perfect crime. They were such fun. To make fun of, Draco thought quickly. Fun to make fun of.
Harry looked up and met Draco's eye. Draco smirked and looked down, leaving Harry checking frantically to see if there was food on his shirt.
It was good to be back.
