IT HAS ARRIVED...!

At long last I finally get RtG 5 up and posted. Mind you, the fact that I wrote it all yesterday doesn't say much for my imagination...

Praise my beta, FireOpal, who got this done and dusted within 10 minutes of me sending it to her. If she hadn't have done, Harry would have turned out as a girl, due to my awful typos.

Anyway... here you go!


Malfoy snagged a crumpet from the serving plates and dug his knife into the butter, smearing the fatty substance over the surface of the crumpet. Chewing it slowly, he narrowed his eyes as Potter walked into the Hall, hair wet and stuck to his head, Weasel and Granger either side of him, laughing loudly and gesturing wildly with their hands. Potter was grinning sheepishly and shaking his head. They sat down at the Gryffindor table, and most of their Housemates paused in their own conversations to greet them jovially.

Malfoy blinked and turned his head slowly to look at either side of himself. Nobody was sat next to him. The Slytherins that were at breakfast were either eating in silence or talking in dark hisses, darting occasional suspicious glances around to check that nobody was listening. Malfoy frowned and looked over at the Gryffindor table again. It wasn't that there were more of them – they were just more social generally, everyone talking to everyone else. He cast his gaze over the students and caught Potter giving him a confused look. Malfoy shook his head and looked down at his plate.

He placed on hand on the edge, steadying it, and brought the other down hard on the opposite edge. A sharp crack made the people nearby jump, but they just ignored him. The plate was cracked down the middle. He raised his eyes and saw that Potter was still giving him a curious look. He held the plate together and laid one hand over the crack and swept his mind clear of all emotion, focusing on the incantation in a firm, clear voice in his head.

Nothing happened.

He glanced up at Potter, and the Gryffindor seemed to realise what he was trying to say. He nodded, an action that could have been misinterpreted as agreement to one of his friends, but Malfoy knew it was for him. It appeared that Potter could be subtle when he wanted. Setting the two pieces of plate down on the table, he gathered his belongings and headed towards Transfiguration.


"Today you will be attempting to turn one thing into something completely different. Up to your OWLs, all you have done is change similar objects – like hedgehogs to pincushions. At NEWT level, you must be able to Transfigure something like this matchbox" She held it up for them to see, then placed it on the floor. "Into something like this."

With a flick of her wand, the matchbox burst from the floor, and in its place stood a rather irate-looking Hippogriff, tail swishing angrily, orange eyes fixed on Malfoy.

As it pawed the ground, McGonagall vanished it.

"Miss Turpin, please come and hand out these matchboxes, one each."

A girl from Ravenclaw that Harry didn't really recognise stood up, marched to the front bench and took the boxes from McGonagall.

"When are you going to go see Dumbledore?" Hermione whispered as Lisa passed them. He shrugged.

"Probably at lunch. I don't really want to bother him."

"Harry, he'd rather you tell him than suffer alone!"

"You make it sound like I'm in pain." Harry replied wryly. Hermione scowled.

"You know what I mean."

"Miss Granger!" McGonagall barked. "Listen to the instructions!"

"Sorry miss." She responded, blushing.

"I want you to read pages 178 to 180 thoroughly before attempting any spell. Once you feel that you are able, you may Transfigure your matchbox into whatever you wish – but bear in mind that this is a lesson. Nothing dangerous or unsuitable, please." She added, with a sharp glare at Malfoy. Harry frowned.

"The teachers really are being hard on Malfoy." He muttered to Hermione as he got out his textbook.

"Since when do you care about him?" she asked vehemently. Harry shrugged.

"Since last night, I think."

"Ah yes. Your study sessions with him and Snape." She said sympathetically. "How did it go?"

"Not so bad." Harry mused, flicking to the right page. "I managed to block Snape's Legilimens, which he didn't seem pleased about."

"Well, that has to be good."

"Hmm." He agreed, concentrating more fully on unspecified Transfigurations.


Across the room, Malfoy watched on in interest as Potter attempted to Transfigure his matchbox. It did indeed change shape – in fact, it turned into a candle – but he decided that this probably wasn't the expected outcome, since both he and Granger proceeded to stare at it with no remainder of comprehension on their faces. He smirked at Potter's ineptness and turned back to his own matchbox.

"Gladius Discrepantia." He said clearly, and a few people turned and watched as his own matchbox vanished with a faint pop to be replaced with a silver long-sword. With emeralds set in the hilt, he couldn't help but admire his own handiwork. It seemed that his classmates were equally impressed. Smirking to himself, he picked it up and tested its weight in his hand. He wasn't ready for McGonagall's sudden interruption.

"I said nothing dangerous, Malfoy! Why do you never listen to instructions?" she snapped angrily, and his sword vanished with a flick of her wand, the matchbox falling to the floor with a harsh rattle. He glared at her.

"What did you want me to do with it, turn it into a cloud of pink candyfloss?"he snarled, and couldn't help the small spike of satisfaction received when Potter stifled a laugh, amongst a few others. McGonagall pursed her lips and glowered at him.

"Five points from Slytherin for your insolence. That's enough practical work for you, Mr. Malfoy." She said smartly, and marched away to the front of the classroom to watch over her students. Glaring at everyone and anyone, Malfoy sat down heavily at his desk, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling, making as much of a fuss as he could without being called a drama queen.

"Canicula Discrepentia!" he heard from across the classroom, and turned to look, his mood soon forgotten as an enormous, bear-like black dog erupted from the matchbox that Potter had set on the ground, teeth bared and eyes blazing fiercely. He smirked.

"Summoning the Grim now, Potter?" he drawled languidly, twirling his wand in his hand. "Haven't you got enough on your plate without conjuring the Death Omen?"

To his immense surprise, Potter didn't look angry straight away. In fact, he was sure that a small smile flashed over the Gryffindor's face before it contorted with fury.

"Shut up, Malfoy," he spat with admirable venom. "I'd watch it if I were you. I have more than just Death up my sleeve for Dark followers." He snarled, and Draco was rather taken aback by the sheer loathing wrought in his voice. Then it clicked – his dog represented Black. And Potter was letting his rage for the real Death Eaters out, mostly his own father and Bellatrix, under the pretence of a simple childhood rivalry.

"I quiver with fear, Potter." He sneered, working up to a rather large insult.

"Malfoy!" McGonagall's voice rang out across the classroom. "Stop distracting other people!"

Malfoy scowled at her again and grumbled under his breath as the rest of the class carried on.

"Stop!" a voice hissed in Malfoy's ear.His hand shot out to grab the person by the throat. Quite an achievement, since the person in question was invisible.

"Who is it?" he whispered viciously, and was replied with a half-choke.

"It's me you prat. Let go!" Potter spat, and Malfoy released his grip. With a furtive glance around himself, he could see that a few people were giving him weird looks.

"What?" he snarled. "Keep moving!"

Casting him shocked looks, the people around him scuttled away. It seemed he could still get the younger ones to do his bidding then, even if he was missing his famous bodyguards. He turned back to where he hoped Potter was standing.

"What do you want, Scarhead?" he growled, and swore he heard a small chuckle.

"Just to ask what the hell was up with your magic at breakfast." The air replied, sounding a bit too amused for Malfoy's liking.

"Well I don't know, do I?" he sneered, and started walking down the corridor to Defence Against the Dark Arts. Potter grabbed his arm and he tried to wrench it from his grip. A silent scuffle ensued, which resulted in Malfoy finding himself with his back pressed to the wall and Potter's voice in his ear, his arm trapped in between their bodies.

"You might want to watch your attitude, Malfoy," Potter snarled quietly. "You don't want to land yourself in even more trouble than you already have. Just keep your head down."

Malfoy frowned at the invisible force.

"Is this warning aggressive or helpful?" he asked softly, raising an eyebrow. Potter snorted and released him.

"Take it as you want to," he replied scornfully. "I don't care."

Malfoy heard his footsteps retreating down the corridor, and with a whoosh of material, he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak. Malfoy watched his retreating back for a few seconds before following.


"We'll be looking at another type of Dark Detector today – and I'm going to collect in your homework at the end of the lesson."

"What homework?" Harry asked as he walked into the lesson late. Maude gave him a surprised look.

"The one I set you last lesson, of course." She said, patronisingly. Harry raised his eyebrows.

"You didn't set us any," he said lightly, sitting down at the desk beside Ron. She grew rather flustered.

"I did, I specifically remember saying that if you didn't finish it in class then you'd have it for homework. Making notes on the Oscillating Sphere."

"I don't remember that." he said blandly as Malfoy stomped into the room, and sat down at the desk in front of Maude, scowling. Maude edged away slightly. "Does anyone else remember that?" Harry asked, addressing the rest of the class. They all shook their heads determinedly. Ron was grinning behind his hand, and Hermione was trying to look unimpressed whilst smiling. Maude drew herself up toherinconsiderable full height and tried to glare at them all.

"You don't have to like me, sixth years, but you do have to respect me!" she snapped. Someone in the corner snorted with amusement. "I am the teacher here, not you, so shut up and listen!"

Bored already, Harry flicked his hand under the desk, cleared his mind, whispered the incantation, and made the papers on her desk levitate a few inches off the wood. Sniggers broke out amongst the students as she carried on speaking in her monotone voice, completely oblivious to the floating assignments that were slowly but surely making their way over to the open window, getting easier to control as he went.

"As I was saying, today we will be looking at something known as a Foe-Glass," she continued, and the shock it caused Harry made him lose his concentration and drop the papers. They fell to the floor, and he braced himself for the loud noise that they would make, but they froze a hair's breadth from the ground, and slowly made their way back up to the original height, resuming their voyage to the window.

Harry looked over at Malfoy and smiled to himself. A fine sheen of sweat was breaking out on his skin, and he was shaking, but he was managing. Harry gathered himself together and added his own magic to the effort, easing the burden on Malfoy, who flashed him a grateful glance as he did.

The work finally depositing itself out of the window caused a roar of laughter form the class, which of course got Maude's attention. Whirling around in her frumpy robes, she looked around desperately for the cause of the disruption. Finding none, her eye began to twitch.

"Settle down, sixth years!" she squawked. "You'll have to research this for homework if you don't have it done by the end of the lesson!" she reprimanded, earning herself many sniggers. Nobody was going to do the homework, anyway.

Harry was slightly perturbed by the idea of a Foe-Glass – it held too many bad memories of the Triwizard Tournament for him. But pushing the thoughts away and clearing his mind, he looked back at the front desk, and was extremely surprised to see a quill making its way towards the window. Grinning, he raised another quill and moved it towards its fate.


As soon as Malfoy saw the papers moving, he knew that Potter was doing it. One glance at the Gryffindor confirmed it – his hand was glowing and his face was creased with faint concentration. Malfoy added his own magic to the journey and found that with Potter's magic, it was actually very easy to control the path of the assignments. But then Maude said something that caused Potter to lose his concentration, and it took all of Malfoy's will to keep the parchment off the floor. He was more than grateful when Potter took up the strain again, and they worked together to drop the paper out of the window.

Whilst Potter appeared to be thinking about something else, Malfoy took it upon himself to transport everything on the front desk out of the window and onto the muddy ground outside. After the first quill, Potter cottoned on and they began the quest to get everything off her desk.

Five minutes later, when Maude finished droning on and turned around to hand out the assignments and was faced with a bare desk, the class could no longer hold back their laughter. No doubt their amusement could be heard next door – but nobody came in and reprimanded them. Malfoy watched with no small amount of satisfaction as Maude ran out of the classroom after failing to control them. Grinning widely, Potter leapt from his desk to peer out of the window, where the equipment was lying prone in the muddy grass.

Malfoy stood up and walked over to him, pushing him away from the window.

"Out of my way, Potter." he snarled, and shoved the Gryffindor hard. Potter shoved him back in retaliation, and he felt the faint motion of something being slipped into under his hand that was lying on the windowsill. He closed his hand around the parchment, and silently marvelled at Potter's abilities in wandless magic.

"Get lost, Malfoy." Potter replied in kind. Malfoy sneered at him.

"I'd get away from the window if I were you, Potter. You never know what's lurking out there, waiting to lure you away." He spat venomously, and realised with a sharp pang of anxiety that he had just hit a nerve. Potter's face contorted with fury, and this time, it wasn't just for show. Before Malfoy could react, Potter's wand was at his throat and his head was banged against the wall viciously as Potter threw him against it.

"Don't you dare say that again." He hissed furiously, so quiet that Malfoy doubted anyone else heard. He tried to convey his apologies without words, and for a moment it seemed to work – for a split second, it looked as though Potter's face relaxed slightly, but then the hard mask was back again, and he growled in a completely meaningful, dog-like fashion.

"Just watch your mouth." He snarled, and let go of the Slytherin's robes, storming back to his seat. Malfoy let out a breath of relief and sat down at his own desk, unrolling the parchment under the desk. There were two words scrawled on in Potter's messy handwriting.

Good work.


Harry watched from the Lake as Malfoy started screaming at some idiot who had purposefully used an illegal move on him, causing him to nearly fall off his broom. The Slytherin in question looked nothing close to repentant – in fact, he looked as though he was about to hit Malfoy in the head and make sure he fell this time.

Malfoy was holding Quidditch trials for his team, and Harry had to say that he was doing a fair job so far. He'd re-employed Pucey and Warrington as Chasers – they were now both in their seventh year – and decided on Zabini as the third Chaser. The latter looked particularly sullen, Harry thought as he looked at the black-haired boy through his Omnioculars. He watched with amusement as Malfoy hexed the person who was aggravating him and they sank down to the ground. Whatever Malfoy might say, some things never changed.


Malfoy growled as another useless Beater left the pitch. He was rather annoyed with the fact that the only competent one was a third year – excluding Bulstrode, that is. She didn't need skill to terrify their opponents. Reluctantly, he informed Graham Pritchard that he had the position as Beater on the team. The small boy looked ecstatic. As he landed and started to walk off the pitch, another person – a fifth year, he believed, strutted up to him.

"I want to try out." She said shortly. You haven't got a full team."

"Did you not read the notice? I'm keeping Bletchley from last year. I don't want to change him. Go away." He snapped in return. She stood her ground, blonde hair shining in the low midday sun.

"I wasn't talking about Keeper." She sneered. Malfoy frowned at her.

"Weren't you watching then? I've got everyone I need. All the other positions have been tried out, and I've picked. You should have got here on time if you wanted to have a go."

"You didn't try out anyone for Seeker." She pointed out, and Malfoy stared at her.

"That's because I'm Seeker." He explained slowly.

"Still, you ought to try out other people. I reckon I could beat you easily." She said snottily, hoisting her broom onto her shoulder. Malfoy felt his lip curl involuntarily.

"Well I don't. I'm Seeker, and that's that. Now go away." He snarled, but the girl grabbed his arm and stopped him, her blue eyes flashing dangerously.

"You will try me out, Malfoy, and you will give me the position, or you'll have Snape to answer to." She growled angrily. Malfoy ripped his arm from her grip, and was shocked to notice that it was glowing faintly. Stowing it away in his robes to repress the magic, he stepped away from her.

"Fine, go to Snape then. I'd like to see how my godfather reacts to such a predicament." He sneered, and this time managed to leave the pitch without being stopped, only to be greeted by an increasingly familiar invisible body out on the grounds.

"What do you want now?" he muttered, still irked by the girl's impudence. Potter laughed.

"Such a pleasant greeting." He commented. Malfoy felt his mouth quirk up at the corner, much to his own dismay.

"Are you here for a reason?" he asked.

"Yes, I came to apologise." Potter replied, much to Malfoy's shock.

"For what?" he asked before he thought. Potter made a noise that sounded rather uncomfortable, and Malfoy smirked as realisation hit.

"Coward." He accused, and Potter choked.

"How am I a coward?" he spluttered.

"Apologising when I can't see you." Malfoy explained, and with a huffing noise, Potter grabbed his arm and pulled him back around the Quidditch stands, whipping the Cloak off. Malfoy was satisfied to seer that the Gryffindor was suitably flustered, his black hair in complete disarray as he glared at Malfoy.

"I'm sorry I overreacted, all right? You didn't realise what you were saying, and I was a bit violent." He snarled, and Malfoy smirked at him.

"Congratulations." He said airily. "You just apologised to a Slytherin."

Potter poked him in the side in retaliation, and Malfoy abruptly swore and clamped a hand down on his side, bending double.

"Shit!" Potter yelped. "I completely forgot about that!"

"It's all right, Potter, keep your head on." Malfoy hissed through clenched teeth. "I'm fine."

"You certainly don't look fine!" Potter said in a disbelieving tone, and took out his wand, pointing it where Malfoy's hand was clamped to his side. "Torpens," he murmured, and Malfoy felt the muscles and nerves go numb under the spell's effects. He looked up at Potter, giving him a wry smile as he stood up straight.

"I never would have used that spell for healing," he commented lightly. "I suppose it can be useful at times."

"I hardly would have used it if it had been your hand or something." Potter replied, raising an eyebrow. Malfoy smirked at him.

"Knowing your intelligence, you'd probably destroy all the nerves in my hand."

"You underestimate me, Malfoy. I'm not as stupid as I used to be."

Smiling inwardly at the offhand comment, Malfoy started walking up to the school.


"Welcome, my faithful students!"

Ron snorted as Trelawney swept into the room, as batty as ever. Harry hadn't particularly wanted to take Divination – but as part of the sixth year course, he had to pick five extra subjects as well as his original four to study as supplement. But having failed Divination the previous year, he had been entered into the Beginner's class – much to Ron's amusement, until he found out that he was faced with a similar fate.

"I am sure it is an honour for you to partake in this class, since most of you have never studied the fine art of Divination before," Trelawney continued in a dreamy voice. She suddenly descended on Ron and Harry, head tilted to one side, looking completely crazy.

"I see that you have returned once more, to learn the basics of my study," she commented. Ron rolled his eyes at Harry. "I suppose you can never be too well learned in a subject." She decided, and pottered away. Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry, who had to muffle his laugh with his hand. The best part was that most people in the class had no idea just how weird Trelawney could get – they were in for a shock. She next leaned down to Zabini, who leaned backwards as far as he could go.

"Your father, I fear, will last no longer than the last, my boy." She said eerily, and he sneered at her.

"I don't need a Seer to tell me that." He replied caustically. "I know my mother's ways better than you do, I should think."

Trelawney simply gazed at him for a few moments before moving on as though nothing had happened.

"You, young Malfoy, have a dark aura." she commented mysteriously, and reached out a hand to prod his cheek, much to everyone's surprise – especially Malfoy's.

"Hands off, you old bat!" he growled, wand out and pointed directly at her heart. Unfazed again though, she just shook her head, sighing in a resigned fashion.

"When will you youngsters learnt that the most influential magic involves no waving of sticks, with things shooting out of the end?"

The dirty part of most of the class's collective mind took over and there was a snort of laughter at the image she produced. She looked around, rather bewildered.

"What did I say?" she asked, confused.


Sitting on the edge of the lake, Malfoy lay back on the grass and thanked whoever decided to give sixth years free periods. Even if he wasn't studying during them – as he was meant to do. The previously muddy ground had dried since this morning, and the skies had cleared to reveal a gorgeous blue sky with only a few clouds. Funny how the weather changed so quickly, he mused, then laughed inwardly. Funny how so many things change so quickly.

Sitting up, he pulled his robes off, stripping down to just his T-shirt and jeans, and stuck his hand on the surface of the cold water of the lake. Trying to ignore the coldness that seeped up his arm, he cleared his mind of everything he was thinking of, closing his eyes as he concentrated on a single, whispered word in his head.

Gelido.

For a split second, there was nothing – but then the water below his hand grew solid and he could hear the gradual cracking as ice formed around his hand, spreading out into the lake and freezing the water. After a few seconds, there was nothing in his mind but his own whispered incantation; then, as abruptly as it had happened, his mind went completely blank as it partially shut down into a state of meditation. It was as though something inside him had been released – the magic poured out of his fingertips like water from a tap, flowing into the lake and searing the water within.

He was vaguely aware of this on a subconscious level, and though he knew that it would probably be a good idea to stop, his mind wasn't working on a level high enough to agree. He didn't know how long he'd been knelt there at the water's edge; his mind had stopped keeping time. The power in his body had taken over, and his body was nothing more now than a vessel for the magic, only just functioning. It just kept flowing, kept going, until he would be drained of all his magic…

And then suddenly his mind was wrenched from its dormant state and he was propelled forwards into the suddenly liquid lake, plunging into its icy depths. The shock was more than his body could take, and it stopped working as the cold soaked through his bones. He moved his legs as best he could, and tried to use his arms to get to the surface, but they weren't responding as he wanted. A few weak, pitiful strokes and they shuddered to a stop. His breath seeped out from his lungs and he closed his eyes.

An explosion of power, and he found himself lying on his back on the ground, choking on lake water and shivering uncontrollably. Rolling onto his side, he spat out as much water as he could, coughing painfully. A warm hand was laid on his bare shoulder, as he emptied his lungs of the water, retching even when it had all gone and shuddering. A warming charm was cast over him, and he rolled onto his back.

Dumbledore, Snape and Potter were in varying positions beside him. Potter's hand was still on his shoulder.

"Are you all right?" he asked anxiously. Malfoy nodded, coughing.

"What happened?" Snape asked curtly, and though anyone else would have mistaken his shortness for rudeness, Malfoy knew that was just as concerned as Potter. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I was practising, like you told me to, and I kind of slipped into my subconscious… I think. Like I was meditating, or something. I couldn't stop the magic coming. Then I broke out of it, and I fell into the water, but I couldn't really move. Now I'm here."

"You were pulled back to reality by Mr. Potter's quick thinking." Dumbledore explained, and Potter, suddenly realising that his hand was still on Malfoy's shoulder, removed it quickly. Malfoy immediately missed the warmth.

"What do you mean?" he asked the venerable wizard. Snape rolled his eyes at him.

"Potter was somehow able to pull your mind out of its lazy state, but he won't tell us how he did it." He replied sardonically. "No doubt you will get a better answer than we will manage."

"And where did my T-shirt go?" Malfoy asked, bewildered. Dumbledore smiled benignly at him.

"You weren't breathing when we got you out of the water."

Malfoy blinked at him.

"Is that relevant?" he asked slowly, and Potter gave a small snort of amusement.

"Yes, we had to use Muggle means of resuscitation on you, since your magic has messed itself up royally with your little stunt there."

"Well I hardly asked it to!" Malfoy said defensively, but Potter was smiling at him.

"I would advise you to go to Madame Pomfrey, Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore informed him. "Harry, would you accompany him please? Just tell her he had a quick swim to cool off." Harry smirked and nodded obediently. The old wizard climbed to his feet and faced Snape. "Severus, a word, if you please." He said, and they walked off up to the castle.

Malfoy watched as Potter cast a drying charm on him, feeling the magic tingle across his skin. He sat up and pulled on his T-shirt.

"Are you going to tell me what you did then or not?" he asked absently as Potter pulled him to his feet. He swayed slightly and grabbed Potter's arm for support.

"No."

"Fair enough."


Please review and tell me what you think! Very welcome and much appreciated!

Also, if anyone has any ideas for OSotLG, I would be sooooo grateful.

smokey

has dyed her hair blue!