The fall term was well under way by late October when Quidditch season was beginning. Harry, back to being Captain, hadn't needed to work very hard to fill the team, as the only spot they needed to fill was one position as Chaser. Seamus, having proved he could get along with Harry and Ginny again, was thrilled to be offered the position. He had played well a couple years before, and although Harry had held tryouts nobody flew well enough for him to change his mind about keeping the same team.

Along with the excitement of the first practices of the season and the coming matches, which never failed to increase house spirit, there were two significant changes in the atmosphere as the year progressed. Most prominently, the lack of Slytherin presence on campus became notable. A decent percent of previous students had returned to school, but he noticed the absence of the sons and daughters of Dark wizards who were in Azkaban after the war.

Thinking back, even at the sorting ceremony the night before classes, it seemed the Sorting Hat couldn't convince students to allow themselves to be assigned to the serpentine house. Quite often, the Hall had been filled with the hat's comments about how a new student had 'promising Slytherin qualities' and would 'be among their people in that house.' Regardless of the hat's musings, though, only five new students ended up in Slytherin. Twenty-five joined Gryffindor, the largest in recorded history, and around a dozen each to Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Harry sighed as they had all squished together further down the Gryffindor table as each new kid ran over to join, all grinning wildly at Harry. Of course he was proud for his house, but he couldn't help being disappointed that people might have decided not to be their true selves just because of the stereotypes and Harry's famous name. After all, if people who wanted to be good joined Slytherin, the reputation of the house could eventually change for the better. There was nothing wrong, Harry thought, with being cunning and ambitious when one's intentions were good.

Their headmistress had reflected his thoughts at the welcome dinner after the sorting, but Harry knew to some extent her words about house unity had fallen on deaf ears. There had since been a number of especially pugnacious Gryffindor and Ravenclaw students, particularly ones who were younger, who decided to take it upon themselves to harass the Slytherin first-years. They had, after a few warnings, been sent home for the year as a form of suspension to keep the poor students safe. In fact, Harry himself had caught one of his younger housemates attacking a small, dark-haired Slytherin girl, who had proceeded to tumble down a flight of stairs. Enraged, Harry had caused quite a scene; he mercilessly berated the cruel Gryffindor boys before stunning them and running down the stairs as quickly as he could to bring the little girl to the Hospital Wing. It was a fairly gruesome sight; her face bloodied and leg broken and pierced by bone, and she had been conscious through it all. Harry had felt sick to his stomach, but managed to get help quickly. She spent a week recovering in bed, the boy who landed the blow was expelled, and his friends were suspended for the year.

Harry saw a few more attacks like this happen, and heard of more still. He had taken it upon himself to visit each victim during their recovery. This started at first because he knew how he would have felt if only a couple months into his time at Hogwarts he had been attacked by peers and left in the hospital without visitors. When he checked in on the girl he had rescued from the incident on the stairs, whose name he learned was Thea Milburn, she had cried and hugged him.

The attacks tied into the second notable change at Hogwarts. Throughout the castle and the grounds, wherever groups of students went throughout the day, the atmosphere was different. It wasn't the hate or fear people held for members of Slytherin that was tangible in the air of the corridors, but a quiet, building strength.

The new format of the mandatory Defense Against the Dark Arts classes shook the dust off of otherwise unmotivated students, and reminded everyone to take their studies seriously. Professor Malfoy often struck fear in the more flippant kids by finding some- legal and harmless, yet terrifying- way or another to demonstrate how being incapable of the proper defense may come back to haunt them. By the end of October, nobody spoke a word against their new professor or questioned his judgement. Now, growing by the day, there was a subtly tangible feeling of hundreds of young witches and wizards understanding their potential.

One thing the Slytherin house seemed to have going for them was their performance in classes. Not having many friends outside of themselves, and not being warmly welcomed in public areas, lead them to hide from the general presence of Hogwarts; Harry suspected they spent their time studying and channeling their frustration into their courses. It started to seem as though they would soon be giving Ravenclaw students a run for their money, and Hermione was no longer the only one attempting to answer questions in Potions and Defense.

To everyone's surprise, the one who seemed to be throwing themselves into this approach the most was Draco. He hadn't spoken a word to anyone in weeks, but would casually supply concise answers to all the questions asked in class. Even Slughorn eventually had to start complimenting the Slytherin boy on his knowledge and performance.

Scarier yet were his performances dueling in Defense. For the past couple weeks he had stepped through the door, into the classroom, and up onto the platform with a fire in his eyes. His aura seemed to dare someone to try and attack him, now that he had permission to fight. Harry hadn't admitted it, but he was almost thankful that he hadn't been assigned to be Draco's partner since this change had occurred. As time went on, Harry even started noticing a drastic change in the blond boy's skill and truly wasn't confident that he would be able to hold his own against his long-time rival. It seemed, though, that despite his exceptional newfound talent, there was something off. Every now and then, Harry noticed, his spells wouldn't fly as smoothly or accurately as it seemed they should. Perhaps he was imagining it, though, as nobody else seemed to notice it.

"He's trying to be the next bloody leader of the Death Eaters," Ron had snapped after being thoroughly overpowered by Malfoy in class. "I swear it."

"I don't know about that…" Neville had cut in, hesitantly. "Maybe he's just upset his house and parents are taking a beating."

"He's certainly had a bit of a lifestyle change," Hermione agreed. "He's not rich anymore either, and people aren't afraid enough of him to treat him with respect."

Ron scoffed at the mention of respect, but otherwise held his tongue, pouting in silence. For some reason, Harry had felt it was something a little different, as none of the explanations seemed quite right.

x

Later the following day, after his Transfiguration and Charms classes, Harry was heading down to visit Hagrid. Ron and Hermione had a date planned, and Harry decided to make his own conscious effort to spend time with people he cared about. He had sent an owl down to Hagrid before his first class that day, once Hermione had told him they wouldn't be free that evening, asking his half-giant friend to have tea ready at 7 o'clock that evening.

As he headed out the side of the castle, he nearly bumped into a taller blond boy. Looking up to apologize, he saw Draco's face.

"Potter," he said disdainfully. It was abundantly clear that the Slytherin was in a fowl mood. Harry suspected that his presence was making it worse, but that it wasn't entirely his fault.

"Er- sorry," he offered, not able to maintain eye contact very well.

"Hiding from the fans, are you?"

Harry knew it had been quite a while since Malfoy had spoken, and was surprised at the change. He wondered what had caused it, yet got the feeling that it wasn't as good a thing as it seemed.

"Going to Hagrid's, actually."

Malfoy seemed to bristle at the mention of the name. He and Hagrid had never gotten on well, and although Harry firmly believed it was entirely Draco's fault, the dislike between them was still deep.

"Naturally," the blond scoffed.

Up until then, Harry had tried to be passive about Malfoy's presence at Hogwarts, and perhaps even slightly optimistic. But the tone the Slytherin boy used poked at a suppressed anger Harry had been working to keep down.

"What's that supposed to mean, Malfoy?" he bit back.

They looked at each other again. Harry's green eyes now held such a warning intensity that they were almost reflected in the grey of Draco's. Seeing Harry's unspoken threat written all over his face, Malfoy's expression changed dangerously.

"You know what I mean, Potter," he snarled.

"You mean I should have chosen my friends better, yeah?" Harry asked aggressively. "We've been going through this since day one."

Draco looked incredibly tense, and Harry couldn't pretend he was any more relaxed. It felt as though, despite his efforts to let the past go, seven years of mistrust and dislike rushed to the surface. They were both breathing sharply with overflowing anger, and Harry could tell from the look on the other boy's face that he was struggling to find something to say that would hurt Harry without landing him in too much trouble. Something about finally being able to get the upper hand on the boy who had often made his time at Hogwarts almost insufferable got the better of him. Despite himself, he rose his voice even more.

"At least all the friends I chose stood by me! Where are yours?"

Harry barely had time to register the venomous expression that grew on Draco's face before he felt a crack against his left cheekbone. His glasses flew from his face as a burning pain began to radiate over his nose. When his vision refocused, still blurry without his glasses, he saw Malfoy had stepped around him and was his way back into the castle. The Slytherin did, however, stop before stepping inside to shout with frustration and blow up a distant rock.

Using his wand to find his glasses and putting them back on, Harry felt an aching in his face. Touching a hand to his cheek, another small wave of pain was sent down to his jaw from the developing bruise. For some reason, Harry wasn't at all angry at having been attacked. He supposed he deserved it, with the comment he made, anyway. Slightly ashamed of himself, he turned to walk down to Hagrid's house for tea.

It took a few minutes for him to notice that, for the first time in months, he didn't have that tense, uneasy feeling hanging over him.