Author's Note: So although it's been roughly half a year since our last update, probably more, we did promise not to abandon the story so hopefully you guys aren't too upset with us and hopefully you enjoy the chapter :) Like previously mentioned, we have planned out the rest of the chapters to the story, it will be 60 chapters total and we do know where it's going, it's just a matter of writing it out and finding the time to do so, what with our real lives and all. Anyway, enjoy and do comment below!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.


Chapter 38: A Return to Brilliance

Draco leaned back against the locker and let his eyes close. He concentrated his breathing so that he could bring his heart back to a stable rhythm. He clutched onto the little notebook with quick-jotted notes and tried to block out James' erratic speech to the Gryffindors spread out with their heads bent low. Though, that proved a difficult task at the moment, for James was not happy.

"We could've...I mean we could've had them...we had a plan in place and we knew where we were going when that whistle blew...but nooo, no, no, no, that cannot happen. No, for some reason when that whistle blew, everyone decided that it was their turn to do whatever it was that they wanted! I mean in all my years playing quidditch, I have never, never see that kind of disrespect to a captain's orders. No really, never seen anything like it and to think, that after everything I have taught you lot, you'd just as easily disregard it..."

Sirius looked up and met Draco's eye. There was no need for any clarification. They both knew they were thinking the exact same thing. James had not only lost the game. He had lost his team. They were no longer cooperating, which wouldn't do Gryffindor any good with winning the Quidditch Cup.

Slytherin hadn't been taking this match lying down. With a superior level of aggressiveness and ferocity, they'd scored through to a war of attrition, rather than pure skill. It'd been thirteen hours and forty-seven minutes, and looked as though the game could have gone on for plenty longer if allowed to escalate to such a point. But Slytherin was not entirely to blame for Gryffindor's loss. It was clear to all but James that he had lost his way as a leader. Perhaps the recent events of the war had distracted him from his leadership duties. Or maybe it was Remus' last cycle or perhaps the stresses of sixth year.

But Draco couldn't be bothered to worry about any of that right now. It was just one match and even so, Gryffindor was still in the running for the Quidditch Cup. No, what bothered Draco was far more significant than any of this. He remained in his corner of the locker room—James' speech slowly dissolving into a mere mumbling that Draco barely even understood anymore as he relived the scene in his head.

~ Four Hours Before ~

Draco patted Sirius on the back as he passed him by, pages ruffling out of the notebook he was carrying at his side. The crowds up in the stands were shouting their frustration at the players below, but Draco respectively ignored them. Though he himself was not in the game, and had never undergone such an experience, in either timeline, he understood perfectly well that playing for eight hours straight was no piece of cake. Both teams deserved the two-hour break, so the crowds in the stands could just suck it, for all Draco cared.

James was nowhere to be found. The Gryffindors, like the Slytherins, were either still in the field, arguing amongst themselves, or headed to their respective locker rooms. The weather conditions weren't bad for the end of January—only mild drizzles of snow here and there, and chilly, but not impossible to play in. So, the Gryffindors really had no excuse for their horrendous play that day.

Somewhat frustrated as well, Draco made to follow the team to the locker room, where he hoped James would be waiting for them, with some sort of motivational speech that would bring about their turnaround victory after the two-hour break. But before Draco even reached the end of the field, he spotted Regulus walking with a friend, who he could only assume was Severus. Draco started to follow them, though stopped when a man in a top hat and long coat approached them and the two boys turned to look at him. There seemed to be some sort of altercation and the friend, who Draco could now see was Crouch, started to walk away. The man followed him, and Regulus stayed in place.

Draco followed until he was within earshot of what the mysterious man was saying to Crouch, who obviously did not want to talk to him.

"...I don't have time for this nonsense..." the man was saying. "You need to grow up, Junior. It's time to stop acting like such a child."

"Oh like you would know!" Crouch shot back.

"Young man, what's that supposed to mean?"

"You know!"

The two stopped to glare at each other in the snow.

Draco pulled a flyer off one of the walls adjacent to the archway and pretended to read it, keeping his head bent low beneath his hoodie so that he wouldn't be noticed by the arguing pair.

"It would just be nice if you at least pretended to care," Crouch said.

"I do not have time for this foolishness," the man started to say, but Crouch interrupted, "YOU NEVER DO, DAD!"

There was a moment of silence.

Draco turned his head slightly to eye the man in the hat. He did look like a much, much younger version of Barty Crouch Senior. Though, without the aura of expertise and sophistication that he carried with him in Draco's timeline, the very few times that they'd happened to be at the same place at the same time.

No, this Barty Crouch was a more ambitious, hopeful, and eager young-minded individual...the type that resembled an intern running errands at the Ministry of Magic and hoping to sit in on important meetings with the people who actually mattered.

"...and the sooner you learn that, the better for all of us," he was now saying.

"Ugh, would you listen to yourself?!" Junior argued. The man looked at him with disbelief. "All you care about is impressing those miserable sods at the Ministry when you don't even realize that you're not needed there! None of them gives a rat's ass about you! You've literally been reduced to nothing there."

"What exactly is your point here, Junior?" his father hissed at him.

"You're hardly ever home anymore, you miss holidays, and I would've at least understood if you were doing something worthwhile, but you're chasing after those officials and doing all their grunt work—"

"—which could potentially lead to bigger things, come on now, even you must understand that, Junior," said the man.

"You're a disgrace!" Junior shouted. There was silence. "I've never been more ashamed of you in my entire life than I am now!"

"Watch your tongue, young man. I am still your father, no matter how you feel."

"Yeah well you know what, father," said Junior, bitterly, "Next time, don't bother coming."

"Yes, that's very mature of you," his father retaliated, but the boy was walking away from him now.

"You're not doing me any favours here, son!" he called after him, but Junior had already disappeared at the end of the hallway.

His father cursed out loud, then straightened up his hat and exited the archway as well.


The frustrated procession of Gryffindors made their way along the corridors to Gryffindor Tower, and up the spiral staircase to the end of the hall where the portrait lady was already swung open and students were filing in, their Gryffindor flags dragging by their legs and their scarves and hats already off.

James did not waste time hanging around in the common room, to be lectured by potential hardcore fans for the Gryffindors' disgusting performance that day, and hurried up the spiral staircase, slamming the door to the dormitory behind him.

Sirius was shaking his head as he made his way over to the usual couch by the fireplace and threw his Quidditch things down on the carpet. Remus unbundled himself and took off many layers until he was down to a simple long-sleeve. Peter pulled out a deck of cards and gestured at Sirius, who hesitated, then shook his head and heaved a disappointed sigh.

Draco knew they were all still upset in the aftermath of the game. And what's more, James wasn't living up to his standards as a leader by hiding off in the dormitory. Normally, he'd be sitting there with them, assuring the team that everything was fine and that they didn't suck.

But Draco's mind was elsewhere tonight. He too, lounged on the couch by Sirius, and kicked his shoes off so that the fireplace would warm his feet, bits and pieces of an eavesdropped conversation echoing in his ears.

"Oy!" cried Frank, now approaching the boys. "Where d'you reckon James has gone off to?"

"Honestly, he could be anywhere," Remus lied, knowing perfectly well that he was shut up in the dormitory.

"Well we've got to strategize!" said Frank. "We need to figure out what went wrong today, we need to talk about a plan for the next match, we need to…"

"Not tonight, Frank," said Sirius.

"But..."

"Take a look around you," said Sirius. "The team is a complete mess right now. No one is in the mood to be lectured on their performance. No one wants to hear words like 'next time' or 'still got a chance'. It's too much for one day."

"He's right," said Remus.

Draco felt some of the boys looking at him for support, but he didn't say a word. He was still thinking about what he'd overheard go down between Crouch Junior and his father. For some odd reason, Draco felt uneasy. He couldn't understand why. Sure, Crouch was Regulus's best friend, supposedly. But he meant nothing to Draco. Literally. Draco didn't care about him one bit. So why couldn't he get the conversation out of his mind? Why was it nearly-ringing in his ears, over and over again, making him anxious even?

"...and maybe if we can just talk to James and convince him to host a meeting next weekend..." said Frank.

"Yeah, James will be over it by then for sure," said Peter.

"Just give him some time," said Remus. Frank nodded.

Draco wondered when Crouch's relationship with his father had started to deteriorate, and at what moment it had reached its peak. What could have possibly happened between them? What was the cause for Crouch's hatred towards his father like so?

And the more Draco thought about that, the more he thought about his relationship with his own father, back in his original timeline. He could remember a time when he would write to his father whenever he wanted something, and his father would arrange for it at once.

He wanted to be on the Quidditch team, so his father bribed the captain with new equipment. He wanted extra gold for his Hogsmeade visits, so his father sent it instantly. And then, when his father reconnected with Voldemort, things had started to change...especially upon Draco's own recruitment. Yes, his relationship with his father went downhill from there, and yes, his father's arrest was difficult for Draco. But never, in all of that last year in his timeline, could he ever recall feeling ashamed of his father.

So what then had done it for Crouch? Was it really all just about his father being a nobody at the Ministry of Magic?

Draco didn't buy it.

His thoughts remained on Barty Crouch Junior as he made his way down the usual corridor to Dumbledore's office for his late Saturday night lesson. He wondered if perhaps Regulus would know the history of Crouch's relationship with his father, being the best friend and all. Or maybe Severus. He seemed to be in charge of the group since Wilkes' demise. The poor bastard.

Draco smirked, knocking three times on the large door which opened at its own accord to reveal the wizard sitting behind the desk in the half-moon spectacles, his nose buried in a thick book. He looked up at Draco as he stepped foot into his office, and smiled warmly.

"Good evening, Draco."

"Evenin'."

"Good week?"

Draco shrugged.

"Bad game?"

Another shrug.

"Is there anything you would like to enlighten me with?"

Draco shook his head straightaway. These days, he wasn't feeling much of the sharing-secrets bond with Dumbledore. Sure, he had been there for him a few times already in this timeline...the night of his breakdown over the Christmas break, being one prominent example.

"Well then, let us not waste any more time this evening and get right to work," announced Dumbledore.

Draco nodded and pulled out his wand.

The lesson lasted approximately two hours, at the end of which Draco felt extremely tired, as was the usual case with these lessons.

"I will send you word about our next lesson as I do not believe we will have time for one next Saturday," Dumbledore announced as his waved his wand to clear up the clutter they'd caused from their practice.

"Sure," said Draco, putting his own wand away.

"We will probably postpone it to a weekday, granted your study schedule allows it."

"Yeah."

Dumbledore turned to look at Draco and tilted his head. Draco met his eye.

"Come on," he said, gesturing for Draco to follow him.

"Where are we going?" Draco mumbled, but Dumbledore did not answer, as he led him to what looked like a glass cabinet. The double doors of the cabinet opened at the wave of Dumbledore's wand, and out slid a round object resembling a bowl with some swishy liquid inside it. The bowl floated midair so that it was at waist-length for the two wizards looking at it now.

"It is called a pensieve," Dumbledore explained. "Have you ever seen one?" Draco shook his head. "A most curious object, and one of my personal favorites in this office. It allows you to store memories."

"Memories?"

"Yes, we all have far too many memories, as I'm sure you know, and they tend to slip out of our minds, especially if we haven't thought of them in a long time."

"Well they slip out for a reason, don't they?" said Draco. Dumbledore gave him a curious look. "I mean, if you haven't thought it a long time, chances are it isn't important and therefore does not need to be stored in your brain anymore."

"Hence the pensieve," said Dumbledore, proudly. "Just because it does not need to be stored in your brain anymore, doesn't mean it should be forgotten entirely. What if you wake up one day in need of that particular memory?"

"But how would you know you're in need of it if you can't even remember it?"

"Ah, that is when you pay a trip to the pensieve and browse around, viewing things you haven't in a while, carelessly browsing around details of your past…"

Draco looked back at the bowl and then again at Dumbledore.

"Why are you showing this to me now?"

"You look like you have a lot on your mind and I thought I would introduce you to the pensieve, in case you should ever need to use it."

"I don't know, professor, it sounds pretty useless to me…"

"...until such time that you should find use for it," declared Dumbledore. "That is when you will really appreciate the essence of this curious magical invention."

And with these his last words of the night, he waved his wand, and the liquid-filled bowl made its way back into the glass cabinet, the double doors shutting it away to its previous hiding spot.

When Draco returned to the common room that night it was to find it almost entirely deserted, except for a few students scattered in their own corners, quietly reading. So, Draco decided to make use of this opportunity and work on his meditation. With every day that passed, he was feeling the spirit of his animagus more. He knew that it would be any day now. He could feel it. And perfect timing too, what with Remus' moon already due.

And surprising too it was that Draco was able to keep so concentrated on his meditation that night. He was so sure—when he'd left Dumbledore's office—that he would go straight to the Tom Riddle diary. Yet, he did not feel that urge. Not tonight, anyway. No, he was far more interested in his animagus that evening. Though he'd previously worried about what form it would take and how the boys would feel about it and whether they'd judge, he was more eager now than anything else...eager to get it done, eager to be as accomplished as they, and eager to finally join them on a real full moon, and not just one where he chases after Remus and fights off Severus.

And so, Draco meditated by the fireplace. And he continued meditating until well into the morning, when the sun streamed its rays through the stained-glass windows and into the empty common room. Draco was surprised to find that he didn't feel tired one bit, even when the marauders finally left the dormitory and inquired about whether he'd slept at all.

"At least it's Sunday and you don't have to worry about going to class today," said Sirius.

"Yeah, you can have a nap later!" said Peter.

Draco only nodded.

It was a bit awkward at first over breakfast in the dining hall, what with James still upset over the game last night and Remus looking like anything would tick him off, bits of sweat on his forehead and the back of his neck a light red colour.

But as the boys gobbled up their toast and bacon and passed around the Daily Prophet, making jokes here and there about the Minister of Magic, tensions eased a bit.

That is, until just after lunchtime, when Sirius made a comment about Quidditch that sparked a series of complaints from James, all of which resulted in Remus storming off, claiming that he "doesn't have time for this shit". The boys laughed it off though, knowing perfectly well that it was the moon.

Draco spent the rest of the day meditating, and the boys let him be, for the most part. There was one moment however, when an issue sparked, almost resulting in a fight. Sirius had mentioned Quidditch yet again, and James was not having it. Feeling as irritated as Remus, Draco tried to stop them, and Peter did too, but James was too angry.

"What, you think I don't fucking know that?!" he kept saying. "You think you are enlightening me with knowledge that I don't already have, Sirius?"

"Oh will you just shut up already!" cried Sirius.

James glared at him.

"You are so stuck up about being captain and your ego is so high you don't even realize that you are the problem, James!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You've lost your way as a leader, mate!"

There was silence.

"He's kind of right," Draco added momentarily.

James looked from one to the other, complete and utter shock plastered on his face. Speechless too.

"You used to have a way with the team," Sirius continued. "It wasn't just about being the best player or being the most experienced...you knew how to get to them. You knew what they needed and when they needed it, but you haven't acted like that in a long time."

Draco nodded along.

"I'm only being honest, mate," Sirius added, in a slightly calmer voice. "You need to get your act together, otherwise your captaincy will just fall apart."

"What do you mean by that?" James finally managed to say.

Sirius hesitated. "You are so upset about the loss we had on Saturday...imagine how the team feels. And you have yet to gather us all together and assure us that it is not the end of the world just yet. That is your job, as a captain, as a leader, as a friend. And you have failed on all three accounts."

And with that, Sirius gathered his things and headed up to the dormitory, before added, "You should think on that."


Draco spent the rest of the day meditating, and a good portion of the night too. But soon, too soon, Monday morning arrived. None of the Gryffindor classmates dared to say anything to James about that dreadful Quidditch game, knowing well that he would not be shy about it. So instead, the topic was avoided altogether. Classes went well for the most part, except for Draco feeling extremely tired from his lack of sleep and his extra dedication to the animagus.

By the time his free afternoon period had arrived, he was ready for a nap. But he knew he had to go meet Severus—he couldn't neglect that. Even though all he wanted was to stretch out on his bed and cover up in blankets upon blankets.

So, dreadfully, he made his way up to that usual seventh floor corridor and found Severus sitting in their usual spot, books spread out in front of him and ruffled pages everywhere.

"Hey," he said without looking up.

"What's up," said Draco, dropping his book bag at his feet and taking a seat.

Severus continued to scribble notes in his notebook as he said, "Fine, you?"

"Mm," was all Draco said as he positioned himself up against the wall and leaned his head back, letting his eyes close.

"That was some game on Saturday," Severus commented after a short silence.

"Yeah," said Draco with a light chuckle.

"Your thoughts on it?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't really care today. It's James' problem."

"Yes, but Potter has too big of an ego to do something about it," Severus said.

Draco didn't answer.

"Anyway," Severus added after several moments, "I've been meaning to..."

His voice trailed off, causing Draco to open his eyes.

"What?" he said.

"Draco," said Severus, his face shaken.

"What is it?"

"Your face..."

"What about it?"

"Have you seen yourself lately?"

Draco shook his head slowly.

"Your eyes are sunken, man."

"Oh," Draco smiled. "Yeah, that. I haven't slept much in the last forty-eight hours or so. Don't worry about it."

"But you...you look so..."

"I said, don't worry about it."

There was silence.

"So you were saying?" said Draco, annoyed a little.

Severus cleared his throat. "Yeah, um, I've been meaning to tell you about my progress with apparition."

Draco opened his eyes again and looked at him.

"Yeah...?"

"Well it's going really well, I'm practically already there," said Severus, pride in his eyes.

"Brilliant," said Draco, though he didn't sound like he meant it one bit. And Severus noticed.

"Is something wrong?"

"You mean other than the fact that you are putting yourself in danger? No, not a thing."

"What—no I'm not, you're being dramatic," said Severus.

Draco glared at him. "I'm being dramatic?!"

"Yeah!"

"Look Sev, you go off about how James has a high ego when yours is just as high!"

"Hey! That's not true!"

"It bloody well is!"

Silence.

"What's gotten into you, Draco?"

"Nothing!" Draco spat. "Everything is bloody perfect."

"Seriously, why're you so mad?"

"Because you're being stupid!"

Severus raised his eyebrows.

"Oh raise your eyebrows all you want, Severus, there is nothing smart about you being impatient and pursuing apparition, unsupervised, on your own, without a proper instructor, just to...just to what, prove a point to someone?"

"Hey, I'm not doing it on my own," said Severus. "I'm doing it with my—"

"—friends, yes, so you mentioned," said Draco.

They fell quiet for a moment.

"Is everything—"

"Yes, it's fine," Draco hissed, and with that, he grabbed his bag and hurried away the corridor, leaving a stunned Severus by himself.

Draco felt a lot better by the time he'd reached Gryffindor Tower. In fact, seeing the marauders there (except for Remus) made him forget all about his spat with Severus. He carried on a casual card game with them, still feeling the tension between James and Sirius, who were surprisingly on speaking terms. Perhaps, James agreed with Sirius, but was just too proud to admit it.

And finally, just as the clock struck midnight, and the majority of the Gryffindors had gone off to bed, leaving the common room pretty much deserted, Peter returned from the hospital wing with the announcement that Remus was well underway to his transformation.

"Just in time," Draco declared.

The boys looked at him in confusion, but Sirius was the first one to figure it out.

"You son of a bitch," he said, barking out a laugh. "You did it, didn't you?"

"Well about fucking time!" James declared, clapping his hands at Draco's proud nod.

"Did what? Did what?" Peter kept saying.

When the boys were finally done laughing, and James had brought his invisibility cloak down from the dormitory, the Marauder's Map tucked under his armpit, though still in sight, Draco turned to Peter.

"I've achieved my animagus," he said.


Happy New Year to everyone and thank you so much for sticking with this story, you guys are awesome and we hope to have more updates for you soon, thanks..