Chapter Twelve
Hogwarts Castle, Scotland, 2 September, 1991
Adrian rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He felt hundreds of eyes burning into his back. Ron looked on with mild sympathy, and Draco showed no visible reaction, though Adrian could tell that he was wound tight as a coiled spring, ready to be at his brother's side in an instant. He couldn't see Neville, but he and Draco had no intention of letting some stupid rivalry between Houses get between them and their new friends. Crabbe and Goyle had tried to cozy up to them last night, but a well-placed jinx -or eight- quickly convinced them that the youngest Malfoy's had no interest in any kind of friendship or association between them.
Adrian wasn't the only one experiencing this unsettling event. On the other side of the Ravenclaw table, Henry Potter, the boy-whose-title-requires-hyphens was experiencing the same issue. He, however, had grown up in the spotlight and was more accustomed to its glare. Cedric sat a few seats away, having taken the younger student under his wing, and kept the conversation light and off the subject of the Sorting, Henry, or anything that would make Henry any more uncomfortable than he already was.
She noticed all of this, and frowned. Both Potter and Malfoy (Adrian, that is) seemed to compel people to follow them, suggesting untapped charisma skills. They also had several similar habits. They ruffled their hair, rubbed their necks, scratched their chins, and smiled in the exact same way, if not for the same reasons.
The Potter boy seemed in a hurry to get to his lessons and away from the many eyes in the Great Hall. She smiled at this. Hogwarts had humbled him, if only slightly. The Malfoy boy was laughing with his brother and friends, a Ravenclaw girl and Gryffindor boy having joined them after they'd finished eating. The other Slytherin's were avoiding them, looking at them with disgust and disdain. They didn't seem to care about it a bit, continuing to laugh and joke as though there were no one else there. She smiled as the lanky redhead beamed down at the girl and threw his arm over her shoulders. She looked irritated, but they didn't notice the twitch at the corners of her mouth. The brothers were having a friendly argument about something trivial with the Gryffindor. She chuckled, startling the second year next to her. The girl looked at her with widened brown eyes and shifted over slightly, her long ink-black hair shining in the light as she did so.
She sighed. No one seemed to really like her much. Ravenclaws were an odd bunch, though, and she usually just brushed off their avoidance, but seeing these five together made her feel colder than usual, and she drifted out of the hall sadly.
Transfiguration Room 1, Hogwarts, Scotland, 2 September, 1991
"First years, please sit down!" a voice called firmly through the chaos of the classroom.
Draco and Adrian sat next to each other at the nearest table, and were pleased to discover that Hermione (along with the other Ravenclaw first years) shared their first class of the day. She sat just in front of them, Ron at her side. Though they were all friends, these two were closest to one another, as they agreed on most topics and debated the ones they didn't.
"Welcome to Transfiguration, I am Professor Remus John Lupin," the voice called again.
The first years looked around, but their teacher was nowhere to be found.
A deep chuckle echoed through the room. "Look here," he said. The voice came from near the desk.
Suddenly, the chair behind the desk sprang into the air and began to shift as it crashed toward the ground.
Just as it hit the ground, a tall man stood in its place, beaming at the gaping class, his wavy, light brown hair the same color as the upholstery from the chair. "Hello there!" he cried, his tawny eyes shining with excitement.
Adrian looked at him with interest. Scars ran across his face, not disfiguring him at all, and his once-black robes were now a very dark gray, tattered at the hem. Sloppily sewn patches were apparent at the elbows. Dobby would faint if he saw this man teaching his young Masters. The thought made Adrian chuckle.
"Is there something particularly funny, Mr. Malfoy, or are you just being rude?"
Adrian jerked his head up, startled, and found himself looking directly into his professor's eyes. He stared. There was something…odd in Lupin's eyes, something wild.
Something that wanted out.
He gulped. "N-no, sorry, Professor, just a joke I remembered."
Lupin crossed is arms and grinned at him. "What was the joke? I myself can always do with a good laugh."
"Um, I forgot it."
Lupin nodded thoughtfully. "It happens to the best of us. Now class, I'm going to start you off easy. Today, you'll be transfiguring a matchstick into a needle."
Hermione raised her hand so quickly that she almost hit Ron in the face. Chuckling, Lupin called on her.
"When will we learn to do human transfigurations, sir?" she asked eagerly. Beside her, Ron rolled his eyes, a slight smile on his face.
"Not until your sixth year, Miss Granger. Human transfiguration is very dangerous, much too much for a first year to handle," he said, still chuckling.
For the next half hour, the class attempted to change the matchsticks. Hermione succeeded in only five minutes.
"It's all about intent! Focus your magic! Force it to do what you want it to!" Professor Lupin called as he walked around the room. "Manipulate it! It's your power! Use it!"
Adrian glared through his glasses at the matchstick on his desk. He cleared his mind, as their "Uncle" Severus had taught them to. He saw a Needle on his desk in his mind's eye, and waved his wand subconsciously. When he opened his eyes, there was a needle on his desk in place of the matchstick.
He smirked at Draco's incredulous look, and returned Ron's nod of acknowledgement. Hermione beamed up at him.
He leaned back in his chair, looking smug.
When his first class had left, Remus Lupin closed the door with a frown. That Adrian Malfoy was… odd. Obviously very intelligent, and cocky as they came, but also very close to all his friends. There was something else as well: he smelled familiar. With Remus' heightened sense of smell, no smell ever went forgotten.
And this boy smelled like Harry, but like someone else as well.
He sat on the edge of his desk, eyes narrowed.
He thought that it was about time to investigate the youngest Malfoy boy.
