The Hogwarts Express continued its journey northwards, the countryside becoming wilder and darker as they traveled further from London. Draco stared out the window of his compartment, lost in thought. The girl's words echoed in his mind - "Yours." Did she know something about his family's involvement with the Dark Lord? Impossible. He hadn't even been born at the height of Voldemort's power.

Yet her accusatory tone nagged at him. Everyone else seemed to share her assumptions - that the Malfoys were secret followers of He Who Must Not Be Named. Draco sighed, his breath fogging the glass. If only they knew how much his family had suffered at Voldemort's hands. How his mother had been tortured and killed right before his eyes.

A great weariness fell over Draco. He was so tired of pretending to be someone he wasn't. The angry, arrogant bully his father expected him to be. The proper pureblood prince. It was all a mask, and he was sick of wearing it.

In this timeline, he had a chance to reinvent himself. To become a better person than the scared, selfish boy he'd been. Hope flickered inside him, small but determined. He would find a way to stop Voldemort's return. To free his family from the Dark Lord's clutches. He had to believe it was possible.

The compartment door slid open, jolting Draco from his thoughts. Blaise Zabini sauntered in, as confident as ever. He threw himself onto the seat across from Draco.

Draco regarded the dark-skinned boy pensively. Blaise had never taken the Dark Mark, claim ing neutrality in the war between Voldemort and the Order. He was cunning and pragmatic - traits Draco now needed in an ally.

"Thanks for the invite," Blaise said casually. "Crabbe and Goyle said you wanted to see me?"

Draco eyed Blaise thoughtfully. Even though he was only 11, he had the mindset of a seventeen-year-old because of some time-travel twist. Draco needed allies, and Blaise seemed like a good fit, with his clever and practical ways.

"I was thinking we could team up," Draco started cautiously. "Like, a secret partnership between us."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"With all the crazy stuff happening in the wizarding world," Draco explained, "darkness is making a comeback. My family's in a tough spot, and I need someone I can trust."

He chose his words carefully, not wanting to spill too many details. Blaise just sat there, cool as a cucumber, listening without giving much away.

"I think we could help each other out in the rough times ahead," Draco continued. "If we join forces, you know, combine our skills..."

He let the idea hang in the air. Blaise rubbed his chin, mulling it over. A few tense moments passed.

Finally, he leaned in, a glint in his eyes. "That's a bold idea. But I'm kinda intrigued. Count me in."

Blaise reached out his hand, and Draco shook it, feeling a wave of relief. This was the first step in creating some serious alliances against the dark forces.

"We'll be at Hogwarts soon," Blaise pointed out, looking at the darkening sky outside. "Let's keep talking about this there. On the down-low."

Draco nodded. With Blaise by his side, he felt the burden on his shoulders lighten, if only a little. They would find a way to change the future. Together.

Night had fallen by the time the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade station. Draco joined the crowd of students exiting the train, the light from Hagrid's lantern bobbing ahead. His stomach fluttered nervously.

The first years crossed the black lake in boats while the older students rode horseless carriages up to the castle. Draco stared up at the illuminated towers and turrets, marveling that this place had once felt like home. Could it be again?

Inside the Great Hall, candles floated beneath the starry ceiling as the first years lined up to be sorted. One by one they sat on the stool, the Sorting Hat proclaiming their house. Draco watched Harry, Ron and Hermione sorted into Gryffindor, just as expected.

The Great Hall buzzed with excitement as first-year students awaited their Sorting. Draco stood tall, his eyes scanning the room for potential allies. His silver gaze lingered on Blaise Zabini, a student known for his cunning and ambition. Draco believed that securing Zabini's loyalty early on would be crucial to his future plans.

The Sorting Hat was lowered onto Draco's head, and immediately, he felt the ancient fabric probing his mind. The hat seemed to hesitate, as if aware of the weight of Draco's destiny. A voice echoed in Draco's head, a voice only he could hear.

"Ah, young Malfoy, back again. Slytherin, where your ambitions thrive. But beware, for the shadows can be both ally and enemy. Choose your path wisely."

Draco's heart pounded, and he smirked at the thought that the Sorting Hat recognized his true potential. Slytherin it was, once again.

The Hat on his head and shouted "SLYTHERIN!" Draco breathed a quiet sigh of relief. As much as he wanted to change, he needed to remain in Slytherin for his plans to work.

Dumbledore rose to give his usual eccentric welcoming speech. But his words felt more somber than Draco remembered.

"I must warn all students that the third-floor corridor is out of bounds this year to anyone who does not wish to die a painful death."

Murmurs rippled through the Great Hall. Draco's stomach dropped. Already Dumbledore was protecting the Sorcerer's Stone at Hogwarts. Which meant Quirrell was here too, with Voldemort's soul attached to him. The timeline was moving forward at an alarming pace.

Dinner appeared on the golden plates, but Draco found he had no appetite. Dumbledore knew Voldemort would return. Already the headmaster was preparing, making his first move against the Dark Lord.

Draco had to accelerate his own plans. Finding the diadem horcrux suddenly became urgent priority. He needed to get into the Room of Requirement and hunt it down as soon as possible.

Tomorrow, he told himself firmly. Tomorrow the hunt begins.

The dungeons welcomed Draco with dimly lit corridors and the soft murmur of ambitious whispers. The Slytherin common room had an eerie, greenish glow that cast shadows on the ornate furniture. Draco navigated through the room, seeking out familiar faces.

Blaise Zabini lounged on a luxurious couch, an air of nonchalance surrounding him. Draco approached with a calculated smile, masking his true intentions. The conversation between them was veiled, filled with subtle references to power, alliances, and the allure of darkness.

As Draco outlined his vision for the future, Zabini's eyes gleamed with interest. The seeds of a partnership were planted in the secret corners of the Slytherin common room.

Draco's efforts to make allies extended beyond Slytherin. Late one night, as he roamed the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts, he encountered a figure cloaked in shadows. The person stepped into the light, revealing a familiar face, Celestina Clockcroft, the formidable witch he had met in the train. She was known for her devotion to the Dark Arts.

C.C.'s eyes, intense and stoic, bore into Draco's soul. She sensed his connection to a darker destiny. The encounter left Draco unsettled, a reminder that the path he walked was not without its dangers.

Draco found solace on the Astronomy Tower, a place where the whispers of the night mingled with the secrets of the stars. As he gazed at the celestial patterns, a voice interrupted his thoughts. Pansy Parkinson, a fellow Slytherin, emerged from the shadows.

Their conversation drifted into the realm of ambitions and desires. Pansy, intrigued by Draco's charisma, expressed her own longing for power. The night air carried the weight of unspoken agreements as Draco added another name to his growing list of potential allies.

Over the next few days, Draco settled into the familiar Hogwarts routine, reacquainting himself with classes, homework and meals in the Great Hall. In Potions, Snape swept about in his usual intimidating manner, criticizing every student but the Slytherins.

Draco found it strange being back in his younger body, shorter and scrawnier than he remembered. His hand no longer bore the Hourglass scar; whatever magic had etched it into his skin had vanished over time.

In subtle ways, Draco tried distancing himself from his fellow Slytherins. He avoided Crabbe and Goyle as much as possible, frequently begging off flying practice or Exploding Snap games in the common room, claiming he had studying to do. He wanted to reshape perceptions about himself, slowly and carefully.

With Daphne Greengrass, he made an effort to be polite, opening doors for her and complimenting her spells in class. She looked taken aback each time Draco acted out of character, but he persisted. Winning over more Slytherins to his side would be crucial down the road.

He also kept a close eye on the Gryffindor trio from afar. So far Harry, Ron and Hermione were bonding just as Draco remembered. He itched to warn them about the Stone, about Quirrell, but held his tongue. They had defeated Voldemort on their own before; better to let events unfold naturally this time.

The Hogwarts Dueling Club provided Draco with the perfect opportunity to showcase his skills. The dueling chamber echoed with the clashing of spells as students practiced their magical prowess. Draco faced off against a Ravenclaw, his every move calculated and precise.

Word of Draco's proficiency spread, attracting the attention of those who sought strength. Millicent Bulstrode, a hulking figure with a thirst for power, approached Draco with a proposition. The dueling chamber became a silent witness to the forging of another alliance.

The Forbidden Forest, a place shrouded in mystery and danger, became a clandestine meeting ground for those who embraced the shadows. Draco ventured into the depths, guided by an unwavering instinct. In the heart of the forest, he encountered Fenrir Greyback, a werewolf whose allegiance lay with the darker forces.

Their conversation danced on the edge of forbidden knowledge, and Draco learned of the intricacies of the magical world that existed beyond the castle walls. The rustling leaves and distant howls created an atmosphere charged with anticipation.

After dinner on the third night, Draco slipped away from his housemates, feigning exhaustion. In truth, he was heading for the seventh floor corridor. He paced three times before the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, focusing intently. I need the place where everything is hidden.

On his third pass, the door materialized. Steeling himself, Draco turned the iron handle and stepped into the cathedral-like Room of Requirement, filled with centuries of hidden objects. It was just as vast and cluttered as he recalled. He conjured a flame in his hand to light the way, then set off into the maze of junk.

The diadem horcrux was here somewhere. He just had to find it. He heard many tales of this items Voldemort had thanks to his father's silver tongue.

Draco searched for hours to no avail. He wove through teetering piles of books, past broken furniture, and under dusty glass cases. But the diadem continued to elude him. Discouragement gnawed at his resolve. The Room of Requirement was like a small city - it could take months to comb through it all.

Exhausted, Draco finally exited back into the corridor just before curfew. He would return tomorrow night, and every night after until he located the diadem. It was just the first night; he couldn't expect instant success.

Over the next week, Draco's life settled into a pattern. By day, he attended classes and subtly tried improving his reputation among peers. By night, he sneaked off to the Room of Requirement to hunt horcruxes. He made little headway, the room simply too vast to search quickly. But he persisted. Soon enough the room, bathed in a soft, ethereal glow, would become a sanctuary for those who shared his aspirations. Blaise Zabini, C.C., Pansy Parkinson, and Millicent Bulstrode would gathered one day in this council, their silhouettes will one day stand tall merge into a council of shadows. Draco's Council of Shadows. His army against the Dark Lord himself.

One morning at breakfast, owls swooped in delivering the mail. Draco's eagle owl landed gracefully before him, letter clutched in its talons. His heart sank as he recognized his father's ornate script addressing the envelope to Draco in bold black ink. Taking a breath to steel himself, he slit it open with his butter knife.

Dear Draco,

I trust Slytherin House is exceeding expectations as always. Do not disappoint us. Uphold our family honor and make the right allies. The Malfoy name commands respect - do not tolerate those who refuse to give it.

Send word with your owl that all is well. Do not leave us waiting. Your mother worries.

-Father

The letter was brief and predictable, but Draco still felt the old twinge of fear. How quickly his father could smother him even from afar. He glanced around at the other students laughing together over breakfast, so free and unburdened. With patience and cunning, one day that could be him too.

Draco penned a short reply on a scrap of parchment - "All is well. Classes going fine." - then sent the owl winging back to deliver it. That should spare him a Howler for now.

He noticed Harry watching the exchange, curiosity plain on his face. Draco held his gaze boldly until Harry looked away. So the famous Harry Potter was taking interest in him, was he? Outwardly Draco kept his face impassive, but inwardly he felt a glimmer of hope. If he could earn Harry's trust, persuade him they were on the same side...that could change everything.

Halloween arrived with the usual fanfare and excitement. Draco picked at his food during the feast, head throbbing. He'd come down with a miserable cold after too many nights spent shivering in the drafty Room of Requirement. Hopefully he could nip down to the hospital wing later for some Pepperup Potion to clear his congestion.

A sudden commotion at the hall entrance drew his attention. Professor Quirrell came sprinting down the aisle between the House tables, turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair and slumped against the table.

"Troll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know," he gasped. Then he sank to the floor in a dead faint.

Chaos erupted in the Great Hall. Several girls screamed, and there was a great scraping of benches as the panicked students leapt to their feet.

"Prefects!" Dumbledore boomed. "Lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Draco felt the blood drain from his face. Not again. How could he have forgotten this night? He should have been paying closer attention to Quirrell. Now there was a rampaging troll in Hogwarts, no doubt summoned as a distraction while Quirrell made his first attempt on the Stone.

Sick with dread, Draco joined the crowd of Slytherins descending to their dungeon dorms - the exact place they'd just been warned to avoid due to the troll. "Listen!" he shouted, fighting the urge to grab Pansy and shake some sense into her. "We can't go this way!"

But no one paid him any mind amidst all the jostling and noise. Cursing under his breath, Draco had no choice but to flow along with the tide of students. All he could do was grip his wand and brace himself for the troll to come lumbering around the next corner. He only hoped he could get everyone out of harm's way.

By some miracle, their group reached the stretch of damp stone wall concealing the Slytherin common room without incident. After giving the password, "Parseltongue," they scrambled inside to safety.

Draco sagged against the door in relief. He'd forgotten how dangerously chaotic Hogwarts could be with Voldemort trying to make his big comeback. He would have to be more vigilant.

One small mercy - Harry and Ron had still gone after the troll and rescued Hermione themselves; Draco overheard the story whispered excitedly the next day in the halls. Some things were playing out as normal.

As November brought colder winds and storms, Draco persisted in balancing his daily routine with nightly searches. He even dared to smile at Hermione in the library one evening, earning a surprised but pleased grin from her in return. Such a simple gesture, yet it filled Draco with quiet happiness. He was making progress, slowly but surely.

The first Quidditch match drew near - Gryffindor versus Slytherin. Draco still loved flying, but he no longer cared much about winning or trouncing Harry. He spent more time discreetly practicing Occlumency to shield his thoughts. If Dumbledore ever grew suspicious and tried Legilimency, Draco needed to be ready. However, in this timeline things would be different.

On a blustery Saturday morning, Draco marched with his Slytherin teammates onto the pitch. He felt hyper-aware of Harry's gaze following him from across the frosty grass. Mounting his Nimbus Two Thousand, Draco was grateful when Madam Hooch's whistle blew, allowing him to kick off into the air. He had proven his seventeen year old skills as a seeker, and Snape found him a spot on the team a year earlier than expected.

In the sky, Draco played competent but conservative defense, allowing the Gryffindor Chasers to sneak a few goals past him. Better for Slytherin to lose rather than him dominating this match. He noticed Harry frowning in puzzlement at his passive play style.

When the Snitch finally appeared, glittering over the pitch, Draco feigned distraction and allowed Harry to streak by him in pursuit. The stands erupted as Harry's fingers closed triumphantly around the tiny gold ball.

As the Gryffindors cheered their comeback victory, Draco clapped along good-naturedly. Across the pitch, Harry shot him a bewildered but thoughtful look. Let him wonder, Draco thought with satisfaction.

That night in the common room, his teammates complained bitterly about his performance. Draco shrugged and took their anger stoically. "Bad day for me, I guess," was all he offered by way of explanation.

Another small stone diverting the river. In time, his housemates would adjust to the new Draco Malfoy.

As winter holidays approached, Draco chose to stay at Hogwarts instead of returning home to Malfoy Manor. The thought of being under his father's scrutiny filled him with dread. He needed more time away before facing Lucius again.

On Christmas morning, Draco was startled to find a few modest presents waiting for him at the foot of his bed. He unwrapped a box of luxury sugar quills from Blaise, which brought a smile to his face. Perhaps their partnership was evolving into authentic friendship.

Another gift bag contained an assortment of practical joke items - Dungbombs, Hiccup Sweets, and the like. Fred and George Weasley's products, no doubt. But who had sent them? Draco puzzled over the anonymous gift for quite some time.

Classes resumed in January, though Draco felt no closer to locating the diadem. Most nights he simply sat thinking amidst the endless clutter, at a loss for how else to search such a massive room. He kept expecting the lightning bolt of inspiration to strike, that crucial clue pointing him to the horcrux. But it never came.

One morning after Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall asked him to stay behind. Draco swallowed his nerves and approached her desk as the other students filed out.

"Yes, Professor?"

McGonagall peered at him over her spectacles, frowning slightly. "Mr. Malfoy, I wanted to discuss your recent class performance. It seems rather lacking of late."

Draco shifted uncomfortably. He'd intentionally been holding back in lessons, not wanting to attract more attention from staff than necessary.

"Is everything all right?" McGonagall pressed. "You were one of our top students last term. Now your homework barely scrapes Acceptable."

"Everything's fine, Professor," Draco mumbled. "I'll try to do better."

McGonagall's sharp gaze bored into him. He focused on keeping his mental barriers in place, just in case.

Finally she pursed her lips. "See that you do, Mr. Malfoy. You are capable of excellence when you set your mind to it. I expect more effort from now on. That will be all."

Relieved, Draco left her classroom. He would have to take more care maintaining his mediocre grades. The last thing he wanted was closer inspection from the teachers, especially Dumbledore.

February arrived in a flurry of snowstorms. The Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff Quidditch match was canceled due to the poor visibility. Draco passed Harry, Ron and Hermione having a furious whispered conversation in the library that afternoon. No doubt they were discussing how to protect the Stone from Snape. Draco considered warning them that Quirrell was the real threat, but held back yet again. Interfering directly could have unintended consequences.

On Valentine's Day, Draco woke to find his dormitory festooned with pink and red paper hearts, bouquets of flowers, and singing cherubs dangling from the ceiling. Glitter rained down continually, coating everything.

"Enjoying our decorations?" Blaise grinned, clearly the mastermind behind the outlandish setup. "Don't worry, the singing cherubs will stop after twenty-four hours. More or less."

Despite himself, Draco had to laugh. Trust Blaise to turn Valentine's Day into his own personal joke. Maybe he wasn't so different from the Weasley twins after all. But that soon would changed. He needed a stoic right hand in his future army. Not a comedian.

That evening at dinner, Draco noticed Hermione looked miserable as owls flooded the Great Hall delivering Valentines. He watched her flee the room in tears after getting her feelings hurt. On impulse, he slipped away from the Slytherin table and followed after her. He had to at least make sure she was fine.