Draco Malfoy walked out by the lake, circling it idly, staring into it's black depths as if they could possibly tell him exactly what was wrong. Something was bothering him, and it was like an itch that he couldn't scratch, because he didn't even know where it was. It was as if... everything was wrong. Hmm... assume a puzzle piece is missing, assume I'm not getting everything I need to figure this one out. Why does Dumbledore seem so satisfied? What is going on?
Similar thoughts cascaded through his mind, as he walked around - crowding n, pressing him, making it hard to breathe. Even though it was cold out, Draco stripped, suddenly - and jumped into the lake in the buff, not caring that someone carelessly looking out a window might see. He was thinking, after all. As the air burned his lungs, and the cold stripped the heat from his body, he thought, his huffy breaths coming out like puffs. If you can't find the weaknesses, attack the strengths - and watch carefully. About the only thing he was certain of, was that Neville Longbottom was acting peculiar - more twisted than wrong - bent.
He would figure out what he could about the boy (he didn't have any classes with him other than Potions, after all, and even though that was the other boy's weakness - or so he figured, he might need to test that, Draco considered...). From apples to nuts, he'd learn. Draco Malfoy was good at learning - but he was even better at bribing other people. His first step would be Goyle and Crabbe. They were huge hulks, but most people learned early not to pay much attention to them. They were slow, but rarely as stupid as they seemed.