Chapter 5

The Bloody Baron

"Before we begin," an old wizard, Dumbledore, Draco guessed, stood up and said, "I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit, Oddment, Blubber, Tweak." All of the students looked around in confusion.

"Is he a bit mad," Ron asked quietly, barely noticing the food that had appeared on the table.

"If that was any indication of his sanity," Draco replied, grabbing a turkey drumstick, "then I'd say he's a bloody lunatic."

That conversation didn't go any further, as a ghost, covered in silver blood, floated up to them. "So," the ghost said menacingly, "you're the first years, are you?"

"Shouldn't you be at the Slytherin table, Baron," Percy asked.

"I couldn't help coming over here when I heard a Malfoy had ended up in the Lion's Den."

"And you would be," Toad-boy asked nervously."

"The Bloody Baron, Slytherin's house ghost. Believe me, back in the day there wouldn't have been anything odd about the Slytherin ghost at the Gryffindor table. Shame house rivalry's gotten so bad." The Baron looked oddly at Harry. "Have we met before?"

"N-no sir."

"You just seem so… familiar. Like someone who sat at my table about twenty years ago. What's your name, boy?"

Harry dropped his fork.

"Harry, sir."

"Your full name."

"H-Harry Potter."

"Potter, is it?" The Baron looked somewhat surprised. "Well, that would explain it."

Draco could see the meaning of these words beginning to sink in to his friend.

"That can't be, I was always told my parents had been Gryffindors."

The Baron just laughed. "James Potter a Gryffindor? Right, and the stuttering fool they've brought in for Defence is the bleedin' Dark Lord!" Hermione and Draco laughed at this assessment, but Harry was silent. "Well, don't let me keep you from your feast."

"Just one question, sir," Luna asked from her seat across from Harry.

"And what would that be?"

"How did you come to be like that?"

Several older students looked at Luna in shock. It was well known that the condition of the Bloody Baron was a taboo subject, and certainly Lionel Lovegood would have informed his daughter of this. The Baron himself looked darkly at Luna and replied, "Let's just say that an Auror's wand sometimes fails and he needs strong steel."

Everyone looked shocked.

"Yes, it was quite the fight. Old Nicholas was quite nearly decapitated."

"Nicholas," Draco asked.

"Yes, Nicholas, the Gryffindor house-ghost, better known as Nearly Headless Nick."

"Is that an ironic name?"

"No, years after that he was actually beheaded, but the executioner flinched at the last second and his head didn't quite come off. He really is 'nearly headless'." As if to prove the Baron's point, the ghost at the far end of the table tipped his head to the sandy-haired boy Draco had seen earlier.

"Well, sir, it was – odd – meeting you."

"You seem a good bunch, for recent Gryffindors. I'll warn Peeves to leave you alone." And with that, the Baron floated back to the Slytherin table.

"Peeves," Luna asked curiously.

"Hogwarts' resident poltergeist," Harry replied. "Real troublemaker. He can only be controlled by the Baron."

"And how do you know all this," Draco asked his friend.

"Prongs told me. Anytime I asked a question about Hogwarts, he would always explain it the best he could. Needless to say, Peeves and Filch figured highly in his discussions."

At the staff table, a witch who strongly reminded Draco of an insect looked over at the four friends. Over the turban of another Professor, her eyes caught Draco's and the boy felt a sharp pain in his forehead. "My scar," Draco said, rubbing his head "it just hurt."

"Just now," Hermione asked.

"Yes, just when I looked over at that witch. There's something up with her."

The witch continued to look oddly at Draco. Eventually, she stood up and walked over to Draco. "Ah, so you're the one who survived the attack, are you Mr. Malfoy?" Draco deliberately avoided eye contact with the strange witch. "Such a shame. Yes, it's a pity you won't survive this year." And she went back to the staff table.

"Who is that," Draco asked Percy.

"Professor Trelawney. She's our old bat of a Divination professor. Don't worry," he said, noticing the look on Draco's face, "she's a complete fraud and you won't have class with her until third year anyways."

"Oh, how wonderful," Draco said quietly to his friends. "In two years I have her to look forward to."

"If you don't die before then," Hermione replied, deadpan.

After the feast, Dumbledore had a series of announcements to make. "First years should note that the forest on our grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember this as well." Draco glanced over at the twins who were busy practicing their best 'innocent' looks. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, our caretaker, to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors."

"Aren't we allowed to have any fun," Draco whispered to Hermione.

Dumbledore's speech continued. "Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."

"Quidditch," Hermione said to Draco. "That's fun, isn't it?"

"Sure, if you're allowed to play. But we're bloody first years."

"We're also the Junior Marauders. We'll find a way."

"And finally," Dumbledore added, ending his announcements, "I must tell you that this year the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

"That sounds like a challenge to me, Herms."

"I know what you mean, Drake. What would the Marauders think if we actually heeded such a warning?"

Draco smirked. Their corruption of the bookish young girl they had first met in Diagon Alley was a complete success.

Dumbledore said something about the school song, then summoned a scroll with large gold lettering. What followed was the most horrible musical cacophony Draco had ever heard, as the great hall burst into several hundred voices singing the same words to different melodies, and all at least slightly out of tune. The words couldn't be heard until the very end when the Twins could be heard singing to a funeral march "Just do your best, we'll do the rest/and learn until our brains all rot."

After the massacre of musical talent to rival Pop Idol, Percy led the group up to the Gryffindor common room. "Caput Draconus," he said to a portrait of an enormously fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Go right ahead." The portrait swung forward and revealed a round hole which Percy led the First Years through. "And congratulations on becoming a Prefect. I know you've been waiting since first year."

Draco was in awe as he looked around the Common Room. It had a warm feeling to it, like it was a massive living room. And the arm chairs didn't hurt that image at all.

"Okay, dorms are up those stairs. Boys on the left, girls on the right." Draco went upstairs with the rest of the boys. When they had settled into bed for the night, Draco's snake curled around one post of his bed and hung down.

Master, I must tell you something.

Draco turned to the serpent. What is it, Cissy? Draco had named the serpent Narcissa after his mother, but called her 'Cissy' for short.

I sensed a terrible power at the staff table tonight. Almost as if the Talker was here himself.

I know what you mean, Draco replied, rubbing his forehead.

A few beds over, Harry was having a conversation of his own with the Runespoor. Planner, I need your help.

What is it, young Heir?

I need to know how to get Draco on the right track. How to get his attention away from Trelawney and onto Quirrell.

You could just tell him what you know.

Oh, that's brilliant. 'Draco, I'm not the friend you think I am. I somehow ended up here from an alternate universe where I have the scar and you and I hate each other's guts. I lived out five years at Hogwarts there, so you'll just have to believe me. Anyways, the one who's after you isn't the suspicious witch you think it is, but the helpless, stuttering Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.' That would go over like a dungbomb in the middle of the Introductory Feast.

I see. Then you might consider simple manipulation. Don't tell him what's happening; just drop hints every now and then that you could have simply picked up on yourself.

DM

This chapter is being uploaded at the same time as Chapter 4 (and 6) to make up for my pause in submissions. I would like to say that I had a good reason, but that would be a total lie.

Please. If you read this, review. When authors don't get reviews we have no way of knowing whether anyone is reading their stories or if they're just writing for themselves. I don't care if you think it was the worst story you ever read, I just need to know that people are reading this story and I haven't wasted countless hours (more so than already known).

Even though the focus is currently on Draco, if a chapter requires it (or even a section, like at the end of this chapter) then the point of view can be temporarily switched. Expect to see this put to great use in later 'books'.

Not really necessary, since it's being published simultaneously, but PREVIEW. Well, sort of. Not really my work, but what's coming next.

DM

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of dark wizards or witches unknown.

Gringotts' goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day.

'But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you,' said a Gringotts spokegoblin this afternoon.

DM

Yeah, and we all know who's responsible for that, don't we? Or are things going to get more twisted in the changes than you would think possible? All I'm going to say is you can't assume that everything that was is (or some seemingly deep nonsense). Keep reading, and PLEASE review.