Draco Malfoy, Broken

28 -Schedules

Published: 11/14/18

Draco woke up surprisingly well-rested. Only his fave five in his dreams... not the really bad stuff. He saw Blaise had moved his bed right next to his and was still sleeping. Theo had fallen asleep nearly across Draco's legs, his blanket from his bed was thrown over him, suggesting Blaise outlasted both of them. Draco didn't want to wake either of them up by moving. They had sacrificed their sleep just to reassure him. He got another small nap in, until Theo's alarm went off by his night table. 

"Waz goin' on?" Theo grumbled, siting up, getting his bearings. "I fell asleep here, then?"

"Looks like it," Draco said, smiling. The sun was only just rising, slowly lighting up the room.

"Why... why did we come back to this early morning crap?" Blaise grumbled and rolled out of bed. He beat Theo to the loo, though.

"Jerk," Theo grunted, nearly to the restroom. He turned back to Draco. "You okay?"

"Yeah... thanks."

"Sorry for falling asleep on your bed."

"I don't care. It was nice after being alone in... Azkaban."

Theo came over to check on him, siting on his bed. Draco swung his legs over the edge. "You're not alone anymore."

"Thanks, Theo," he said, quietly. "What about you? Was this summer okay... with Blaise?"

"Yeah... it wasn't bad. I just made sure to stay away from his mom and tested everything I ate."

"You really think she'd kill off one of her son's closest friends?" Draco scoffed.

"She is a recent widow... she might have tried to marry me," Theo said, smirking. "That and there's no one else in my family. I have my father's vault. It's not a lot, but I wouldn't put it past her."

"I'm sorry... Theo... about your dad. He was a good man."

"He tried to be," Theo said, wiping his eyes.

"All yours," Blaise said, coming out. He had mastered the art of quick showers.

"You want next, Draco?" Theo said, quietly.

"No, go head Theo. I got to get my stuff out of my trunk, anyway."

"'Kay."

Blaise spelled his bed back to its original spot and flicked through his books and quills, shoving what he needed into his bag. Draco did the same, until he heard the tapping on the window. It was a Hogwarts owl. He thought it might have been Harry's, but when he untied it and opened the letter, his chest fell.

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

Please come to my office before breakfast to discuss your classes. The password is Gingerbread.

Professor M. McGonagall

Headmistress

"Oh, that's not good. Breakfast is starting soon. We'd better go. I'll tell Theo to meet us in the Great Hall with Daphne," Blaise said.

"You don't have to go," Draco started.

"You are not running the around the school without one of us with you... Draco. Don't even protest it. You would barely travel without Goon 1 and 2 when you were younger. You want me to spell you clean?"

"Sure."

Blaise cast the cleaning spell and Draco put a clean robe on and grabbed his bag. Blaise told Theo and lifted the wards on the door. He didn't take any chances and re-cast them. Only Ernie, Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones were in the common room as they came down. Ernie gave a nod, but the two Hufflepuff girls just frowned and looked away. Draco didn't say anything in response.

Blaise had to tell off a couple of passersby students, but they got to the head's office without difficulty.

"I'll wait out here for you, Dray."

"Alone?"

"No one I care about is up this early. And I'm sure Malcolm went crying already, I'd rather not face the headmistress... unless you want me to come?"

"I'll be alright. Be careful," Draco said and went up, after giving the gargoyle the password.

Draco started shaking the moment he was out of Blaise's sight. He had only been in the office once, and it was only going to freak him out more now that both Dumbledore and Snape's portraits were in there. McGonagall was a force to be reckoned with, even without all the other heads looking down at him. He knocked quietly on the inner door to the office.

"Enter."

Draco pushed the door open, his hands barely cooperating. He glanced at the desk, but wouldn't meet the headmistress's eyes.

"Come in, Mr. Malfoy. Have a seat," she said, briskly.

Draco did as she commanded, still keeping his eyes on the floor. His spine was hunched over, frozen.

"Straighten up, Mr. Malfoy, and look at me," she ordered.

Draco slowly unbent his back, but his spine felt like it was fused. He then lifted his trembling eyes to the studious eyes of the battle commander of Hogwarts. It hurt and he couldn't keep it up very long.

"Better. You are where you belong, Draco. I realize it is going to be difficult at first, but it should quiet down. Now, your courses. I have it from the Wizengamot that you must take all the courses you were in last year. They will not let you drop any courses."

Draco just nodded to show he understood. He figured that. His sight drifted downwards, again.

"You also need to take the three night courses. I know this will be a burden, as well, but if it is too much, I will re-evaluate that requirement."

Draco nodded, wanting no part of speaking in her presence. He kept his eyes on the grand mahogany desk in front of her.

"Draco... I am concerned about your well-being. Look at me," she asked, again.

He trembled more as he lifted his eyes, again. He couldn't help but shrink under her gaze. Draco could only look for a more few seconds before he wretched his eyes away and they automatically filled with tears.

"Have a biscuit, Mr. Malfoy," she said, pushing the tin toward him. He slowly took one and took a small bite. "I want you to go see Madam Pomfrey, right after this. You've been under a lot of physical and mental stress. She may be able to help you. This is not a request."

Draco nodded again.

"I did not invite you back here to be hurt, Draco. I want you to get your education, not be further traumatized. If any student is harassing you, I want you to come to me... for anything. Do you understand? In words, if you would please."

"Y-Yes, ma'am," he whispered.

"Your mother sent me an owl, last night... with a wand," she said and set it in front of him.

Draco grimaced and took his mother's wand. He didn't really think it would work, but at least he had tried.

"She said you didn't want to take it, as you don't have one, but she said that she insists you have it. I'm going to have to agree with her. I could petition the scholarship fund to assist you in acquiring a wand of your own."

"N-No... ma'am, thank you though." He want to beg the governors for a handout, just to be turned down.

"Very well. There is no shame in seeking help now and again, Mr. Malfoy. But if you change your mind, I will assist you," she said, formally, then going to the next topic. "Now, Draco, what classes will you be taking for your electives?"

Draco took a deep breath and said, "I wanted to take Curse-Breaking, Magical Theory and Home Economics."

"I see. Well, all those classes are on separate days, so there is no conflict. An interesting selection, to say the least. I believe you should do fine. Next issue, is the dorm situation working out? I was loathe to put you into Slytherin House for more than one reason. I understand that there was an incident will a fifth year on the train?"

Draco only nodded.

"Mr. Baddock has complained about his treatment and Madam Pomfrey says there is nothing to be done."

"I didn't hex him," Draco stated quickly.

"Obviously, unless you have another wand. But do try to restrain your friends, Draco. You will not be held accountable, by me at least, for their actions, but they are only stirring the animosity. Hexes that last for days or longer create more resentment than necessary."

"I understand." Draco swallowed hard. "Umm... P-Professor... I don't want to be a p-prefect anymore."

"Oh... but your name will remain on the prefect scroll, Mr. Malfoy. If you choose not to wear your badge, that is on you. But you have my permission to wear it," she said, fairly generous for a student on probation for participating in the murder of one of the former occupants of her office.

McGonagall let out a sigh and then said after a long pause, "I am also going to insist that you restrict yourself to the grounds and that you return to your dorm after the night classes are over. This is more for your safety, than a punishment. I don't want you out at night time alone."

"I understand," he said, but then muttered. "Professor... I... umm...."

"Yes?"

"On the train..." he started.

"Mr. Potter sent me a Patronus from the train and I did contact the Ministry. It is their opinion that it was Mr. Potter's "imagination" and that all dementors are accounted for in Azkaban."

Draco was impressed by the level of contempt McGonagall put into her voice. She had no problem believing Potter.

"It was... one," he said, mumbling. "I... I don't know if you'll believe me...."

"I already believe Mr. Potter, there's no reason to be stressed. Now, you should...."

"Sorry, professor... I meant..." he stopped, amazed he had interrupted the headmistress.

"Go on, Draco," she said, waving her hand.

"It was after me."

"Dementors do not care about who they hurt, Draco. Their only goal is to feed. It would go after anyone. It could even be responding to the amount of distress you give off. There's no reason to think it was targeting you specifically."

"It was mine," Draco stated, staring straight ahead.

"Harry mentioned you said that when I saw him last night. He didn't understand what you meant, but he was troubled by it," the headmistress said, giving him the stare down.

"The... one outside of my cell... it... was different... than the others. I don't know if I can explain it," Draco whispered. It was impossible to describe how it felt. How it enjoyed ripping out pieces of his soul one bit at a time. He shuttered automatically.

"Dementors are not readily studied... but what you are saying can't be ignored. And there was a discrepancy with why one was placed on your cell. But to run into the same one on a train far from the prison... it's unlikely, Draco."

"I don't think it was the first time since I left... Azkaban."

"Explain," she said, leaning back in her chair.

"I thought I was just tired... or imagining it... but I almost... it almost got me in the park by my mom's flat one night and then I was forced under another night in my room. It wasn't a dream... they force me to relive my memories. I didn't really connect it until the train when it wasn't just me, slipping under."

"Well... that is most... disturbing. A dementor in outer London and outside of Ministry control? I'm not going to dismiss your concerns, Draco. You are describing very abnormal dementor behavior. They do not target or hunt a particular person. Even when hunting Sirius Black, they knew that they were looking for him, but they weren't tracking him like a boarhound. They're sentries and stay in the shadows. And if someone set one after you, they must be very reckless to allow it to wander freely or are actively controlling it. I will look into the matter."

"Thank you... for believing me," Draco murmured and McGonagall nodded.

"Here is your schedule. You need not see Professor Slughorn at breakfast."

Draco nodded and looking at today's schedule. Transfiguration with all the houses, double Herbology with the Ravenclaw, lunch and then double Defense Against the Dark Arts in the afternoon with the Hufflepuffs. After dinner, he also had Advanced Magical Theory. Thursdays were not going to be fun.

"I will see you in an hour, then," Professor McGonagall said.

Draco looked up at her confused.

She smiled. "I have not been able to find a replacement. I will continue teaching Transfiguration for the time being. I'll be looking for some student assistants like Professor Sprout has."

Draco smirked. "Granger."

"I have considered her, but I do not want it to be a detriment to her education. Mr. Longbottom is planning on staying here and apprenticing with Professor Sprout. I daresay Ms. Granger has higher hopes than just being a Transfiguration professor."

"I'm sure she inspires to be as skilled as you, professor," Draco said, with a quaint smirk.

"Nice to see you haven't completely lost your silver tongue, Draco," Professor McGonagall said, giving him a rare smile back. "But I am more impressed that you speak highly of Ms. Granger, as before it was quite the other way around."

Draco blushed slightly. "I was an as-jerk before. She was always amazing."

"Indeed, very skilled, but I was most curious about Mr. Ollivander's description of your spellwork, Mr. Malfoy. It was not a one-time occurrence, then? If what he explained was true."

"It was true," Draco said, more willing to open up and look at her.

"Nonverbal spells, especially chants or wordless spells are very dangerous, Draco."

"And I can't do them anymore?" he said, figuring that was where it was leading to.

"I did not say that. I was advising caution. As a Transfiguration professor, I will tell you that one might find the most challenge in changing items... without the spell name. Even small Switching Spells. It will be very difficult to get the imagery right in your mind and will require many weeks to get the basics down before one could starting conjuring and manipulating larger items. Most individuals... have issues with only picturing the outside of the object, unless it is hollow... that is where the difficulty lies."

Draco listened to every word, intrigued. Then he gave her a look, a knowing look. It almost sounded like she was coaching him on how to advance his nonverbal and, by extension, his wandless magic.

"Thank you, professor," he said, extremely grateful. This time he lowered his head in respect.

"Very good, Mr. Malfoy. Please let me know if you wish to theoretically know what one might do after learning the basics. I wish to remain... in the loop as far as your hypothetical education in progressing."

"I will," Draco said, much calmer than when he arrived.

"Very well, tell Mr. Zabini to accompany you to the hospital wing before breakfast, if you would."

"Yes, headmistress," Draco said, less enthusiastically.

"You may go," Professor McGonagall said and Draco rose up.

Just as he left, before the door closed, he thought he heard Dumbledore's voice, "He's going to be fine."

"Of course, he's fine. He's a Slytherin," Snape drawled.

Draco smiled down the steps and out of the gargoyle-guarded door. Blaise was still waiting for him, unharmed.

"Well... you don't look traumatized... must not have been too bad," he muttered, giving Draco a one-over.

"She wanted to make sure I was okay and gave me some advice. It was more than I deserve, considering how disrespectful I've been to her," Draco murmured.

"Oh, our fearless leader is a softie at heart, Dray. She is a Gryffindor. To breakfast, then?"

"Actually, she told me to go to the Infirmary to see Madam Pomfrey. Make sure I'm... okay."

Blaise stopped. "Are you not... okay?"

"I... can't stop shaking. It could be from the... Cruciatus Curses. They do damage the body," he said, latching on to the ready excuse. He had a feeling McGonagall was more concerned with his mental health more than anything.

"Oh... yeah... let's go then. You should get checked out. Sorry, I didn't think of it."

"You're not my mother, Blaise," Draco muttered, but followed him closely. There were more students now. They managed to get to the hospital wing with only a few hexes thrown. Blaise sorted them out without difficulty, and spent a few back with more of a bite.

"Come here. Mr. Malfoy. Minerva said I'd be expecting you. Mr. Zabini, this may take a bit. Why don't you go get Draco some breakfast?"

Blaise looked like he wanted to protest. He, one, didn't want to leave Draco alone and, two, he knew that Draco wouldn't tell him if anything was wrong. Draco lowered his head so he didn't have to look into his eyes.

"I think we will be alright," Blaise said, but Madam Pomfrey put her hands on her hips.

"That was not a request. If Mr. Malfoy chooses to tell you his medical issues, then he can. But I can't allow you to remain while I'm trying to ask questions and he's concerned about how you will react. He is the patient. Now, go get some breakfast. I have several tests to run."

Blaise grimaced and came closer. "You will not leave this hospital wing without me, okay?"

Draco gave a weak smile. "Okay."

"You won't let him leave until I return, right?" he asked the matron.

"I give you my word," she vowed and Blaise patted his shoulder in goodbye.

"Come here, Draco, to the bed," she ordered. He followed meekly, as she pulled the curtains around the bed. "Take off your robes."

He didn't want to, but did as she instructed. She tutted when she saw his weight loss, not at all fixed by a week and a half of regular meals. She cast some diagnostic spells over his whole body. He tried to keep still but the tremors wouldn't stop. She looked at his head injury from Vance and saw the damage to his feet from the cold.

About twenty spells and pokes later, she said, "You can get dressed, while I get some potions for you."

Draco pulled on his robes and straightened his hair. He hadn't even bothered to put any hair potions in. He must be too stressed if he forgot.

The old matron returned with several potions. "First, here's a nutrient potion. You are extremely underweight, Draco. I'm going to insist you come here every morning for the next two weeks for a potion. I'm not going to budge on this."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, drinking the potion slowly. It tasted like raw spinach and beets.

"Next, this is for your nerve damage. Your tremors are at least somewhat from the Cruciatus Curses you've received. Draco, I don't know how much more your body can take without permanent damage."

"I didn't ask to be cursed," he muttered, but he drank the restoration potion without any more comment.

"I was just warning you... and that's not mentioning your mental state either. Draco, I can ask Professor McGonagall to have a mind healer...."

"No! No!" Draco shrieked. "Absolutely not! I will not talk to anyone about what happened!"

"Calm down! It is not that bad. They might be able to help you...."

"No," he growled. He had no desire to be locked up for the rest of his life in St. Mungo's.

"Alright... it's your decision. Lucky for you, Minerva doesn't want to force it, yet. But we are concerned. The stress levels I am reading from your tests are very high. That will affect the rest of your body, too, in a bad way. This is a Calming Draught it should help settle your anxiety, which is rather elevated, too."

Draco gladly took that one. The effect was instantaneous. The shaking almost completely stopped and the tension dropped from his shoulders. He breathed easier.

"Much better. I can't do much for that scar above your eye. It's already healed."

"I... fell when I was at Azkaban," Draco said, noting that it was easier to say.

"You had some frostbite to your feet, did you know?"

"It was numb... the guard took my clothes and the dementors froze me," Draco said, without flinching.

"Oh, you poor thing... Azkaban... you're so delicate," Madam Pomfrey said, casting a healing spell. Feeling returned to his toes and they moved freely.

"Delicate... yeah," Draco said, mildly annoyed that he admitted it, but he was too calm to care. He must have taken too much of the Calming Draught, he noted as his potions skills kicking in.

"This is a hard question, Draco... but have you thought about hurting yourself?"

Draco tilted his head, confused by the question. "No?"

"What about eating?" she asked, sternly.

"I... I stopped... but I've been eating since I got out. It was... bad... in there," he admitted, almost freely.

"If it gets too bad... I want you to come back to see me. You've been through a lot, Draco."

"Thank you," he said, taking a deep breath.

"Of course, dear. Here comes your friends," Madam Pomfrey said, and Theo, Blaise and Daphne came into the ward.

"Draco, you done?" Blaise asked and set a plate of pork bangers, crumpets and eggs on his bed.

"Yes, he is. Be sure to bring him back here every day for the next couple weeks. He needs to take nutrient potions."

"Oh, we will make sure to get him here," Theo said.

"And eat three meals a day, Draco. I'll be keeping an eye on you and, if I suspect that you aren't eating, you'll be eating your meals in here with me," she threatened.

Draco gulped.

"We got him, Madam Pomfrey. We'll force-fed him if need be," Blaise said, and Draco glared at him.

"Alright, eat your breakfast and be off to class," she said, shuffling to her office.

"Thank you," Draco mumbled and plowed through his food, expediently.

"You look better," Theo stated.

"Yeah... a lot better. What'd she do to you?" Blaise asked, looking at him.

"Wha?" he said, his mouth full.

"You aren't shaking," Daphne added.

"No. He's not," Blaise said.

"Yeah, she gave me a few potions. Healed a few things," Draco said and scrapped his plate.

"That's good. Let's go," Blaise said, taking his plate and setting it on the table. They exited out of the hospital wing and down the steps.

"You got Transfiguration, right? Slughorn said your schedule was already taken care of?" Theo asked.

"Yeah... then Herbology."

"Herbology? Why the hell did you take Herbology?" Blaise said. He hated mucking around in the mud as much as Pansy did.

"Why did you take Divination?" Draco grumbled. "Herbology is important for Potions."

"None of us have that class... or your damn Arithmancy. Just be glad Theo's a nerd, too, and took Ancient Runes with you."

"Hey!" Theo said, indignantly.

"I'll be alright. Ravenclaws aren't that bad," Draco said. He felt like he was floating down the hall.

"You forget Tracey and Alexus are in that class?" Blaise growled.

"Relax. Everything is fine," Draco said, nonchalantly.

Blaise grabbed his chin and pushed him back into the wall where the sunlight was. He stared into his eyes, concerned. "What the hell is wrong with you? What did she give you?"

"Calming Draught... I think it was too potent," Draco muttered, pulling his head out if his hands.

"Ya think? Damn, I wonder if she was a Slytherin... that is one crafty way to get answers. She loosened you up."

"That doesn't seem right," Draco said, with a smirk. "But I feel good."

"I'll bet. Wait until an hour or two from now... it'll wear off and the anxiety will come back."

"That sucks... it should be longer...."

"Everything that makes you happy has a time limit, Murphy's Law," Daphne muttered.

"I don't know that one," Draco said, confused.

"It's a muggle rule."

Draco shrugged and didn't even feel upset when two fifth years tried to hex him and Daphne shielded while Blaise and Theo cursed them. He enjoyed not having stress... or anxiety. His heartbeat was so quiet and he could breathe so much easier.

But Blaise and Daphne was right. The feeling would leave. Especially as the matron used a tweaked mixture, an augmented amount of certain ingredients. The doubling increases the potency, but decreases the time of the effect due to the valerian. Whoever had brewed the potion must have only used sprigs where the aroma would be the most concentrated. But as far as longevity goes, the leafy parts would break down quickly, ending the usefulness of the potion. Whereas the valerian root, being denser, would take longer to break down in the body, lengthening the effect of the potion.

He wondered if the brewer intentionally made the potion that way or they were just clumsy and didn't use the root part. In order to get the potion to work, they would have had to go by weight. The root weighs more than the sprigs. They would have had to put double the amount of the sprigs to get the potion to set right and making the potion less useful. Ideally, the longer and more subtle the effect, the greater chance the drinker will retain the effects even after the potion breaks down.

The idea that the matron had this potion brewed that way just to elicit information was doubtful. He recalled that there was slight burning taste to the liquid, so the hellebore syrup must be degrading the potion, an effect that would occur several months after the concoction was brewed. At least, she didn't have it brewed for him, that would have been cruel. She didn't really ask too hard of questions either, she seemed preoccupied with making sure he was okay. It must have been Slughorn... or more like... he let his class brew it and gave it to the matron instead of troubling himself to do it right. Snape would have never been so careless.

"Hello Draco? Hogwarts calling Draco," Blaise said, waving his hand in front of his face. "Where'd you go, blondie?"

"Just figuring out who brewed the potion. I don't think Madam Pomfrey was exhibiting Slytherin signs. It was made last year probably in Slughorn's OWL level class and they didn't brew it right."

All three of his friends stared at him, with varying degrees of surprise.

"What?"

"Alright, Snape Junior. How you can think logically when you are hopped up..." Blaise huffed.

"I'm not 'hopped up'," Draco grunted and then the next words slipped out. "Harry called me Snape Junior, too."

"Oh... it's Harry, now?" Blaise said, happily.

"I knew it," Theo said. "You are so strung up on him."

Draco swore. Intentional or not, the matron loosened his inhibitions. All he needed was the wrong person to hear the wrong thing. "Shut up! We aren't in our dorm room!" Draco said, agitation breaking through the Calming Draught.

"Sorry," Theo muttered. They had a standing agreement that they would never talk about his... affliction... anywhere but their locked and warded room, least his enemies overhear.

"It's fine. We can stop by the student supply cupboard and a drop of mandrake will counteract the potion."

"I'm sure it will, but we aren't going to be late to class because of it. You're going to have to plow through," Theo said.

"Besides... Potter is in this class. Nothing's going to happen," Blaise added, smirking.

"He is?" Draco asked, happy-giddy feelings breaking through regardless of the threat of being found out.

"Yep, McGonagall doesn't have the time to teach 32 different classes and run the school. All her classes are combined. That's going to be fun. I think the seventh and eighth years are scheduled all together, but her lower classes have two houses in their classes."

"You think the classroom will be big enough?" Daphne asked, as they walked into Transfiguration.

"It is now," Theo said.

The room was twice as larger as before. No one could doubt the skill and expertise of the headmistress. Draco was thoroughly impressed. An Undetectable Extension Charm on a large classroom was very tricky. Draco's trunk cost hundreds of galleons to have the charm done to it.

"Malfoy!" the cry rang out and the combined NEWT level class focused on him. Not just the eighth years, but the seventh years, too.

Wands came out of nowhere from all around the room.

***

"You need to finish your breakfast!" Hermione insisted. "You've lost quite a bit of weight this summer."

"I haven't seen him," Harry muttered, not willing to eat another bite.

Ron sighed and started a conversation with Neville to not participate in their discussion.

"Well, Blaise isn't here," she offered, looking down the line, but her face fell when Draco's dark-skinned friend strode into the Great Hall like he owned the place. He sauntered over to Daphne and Theo, built up a plate and three of them left out back out the main entrance, where they were stopped momentarily by the Head of Slytherin House, Horace Slughorn.

"Maybe they are bringing him food?"

"Possibly," he said.

Professor McGonagall made her way down the line, assigning schedules to students based on their answers.

"Ms. Granger? What day classes are you taking? The same as your sixth year?"

"Yes, headmistress," she said.

"And your night courses?"

"Magical Law and Politics, International Relations, Goblin Politics, Magical First Aid and Muggle Relations," she said, immediately like she had studied the list intensely deciding the classes.

"Don't get too overburdened, Ms. Granger," Professor McGonagall said, but in an approving tone.

"Mr. Weasley?"

"Same as before. I want Engineering, First Aid and Muggle Relations."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, but Muggle Relations is at the same time as Magical Engineering."

Ron looked crestfallen. "I really wanted Magical Engineering."

"Well, take it Ron," Hermione encouraged.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley, you should not pick classes just to be with your friends," the headmistress grumbled.

Ron nodded and perused the list again and pointed at a class.

"Good. Mr. Potter, the same?" she asked and he nodded. "And your night courses?"

"Are all the houses going to be in each class?" Harry asked.

Professor McGonagall sighed and gave him a disapproving look. "I just explained to Mr. Weasley about the point of the extra classes is not to hang out."

"I didn't say it was, but it will dictate my decision."

"Yes, all the houses will be together and with the seventh years, who wish to go."

Harry told her the classes he wanted, earning a look from Hermione, Ron and the headmistress. She handed him a schedule.

McGonagall went on to help the rest of the Gryffindors and Harry asked, "Who's the Head of Gryffindor? Why's McGonagall doing schedules?"

"I don't think that there is any other Gryffindor professors at Hogwarts. Most are from Ravenclaw and Slytherin for obvious reasons. I can't picture her letting Neville be head, yet," Hermione said.

"Actually, I heard Dawlish was from Gryffindor," Ron said, staring at his schedule. "She didn't pick him."

"He's brand new," Hermione suggested, but Harry frowned. Professor McGonagall must not like or trust him.

"You guys got Transfiguration?" Ron asked.

"Yeah, then Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione said. Harry nodded. Maybe he'll form his own opinions of the Auror.

"Done eating? Let's go to Transfiguration. You know the seventh years are in this class, too?" Hermione said.

"Seventh years?" Harry said, surprised and worried.

"Yeah... both years all the houses. There's only 17 eighth years in the class and 22 seventh years. Professor McGonagall had to combine them, she's too busy."

"She couldn't find a replacement?"

"No. The ministry is in shambles and a lot of people aren't willing to come back to the battlefield. Plus, I think they were trying to convince her to stay on just as the Transfiguration professor and insert their own headmaster into the school."

"I-What?" Harry said, surprised.

"Yeah... they want control back. Fudge put that bug in their head. Voldemort reinforced it. Controlling how the school teaches, controls the political atmosphere," Hermione explained.

"My head hurts," Ron grumbled.

"If they think..." Harry started.

"Calm down... no one will depose the General of the Hogwarts. She's in power and is staying there, until she willingly gives it up. They're testing her commitment to the role by making her choose between being a teacher and being headmistress. She's trying to do both."

"I thought this shit ended with Fudge getting sacked. What the hell is wrong with them? Is it Kingsley?"

"I don't think so. He seems to be just as powerless as McGonagall, but who's to say. It's just my perception of the events."

"Huh... we'll keep an eye on it. Let's go. Don't need to be late for our first class, especially as it's the headmistress's."

They walked in right behind the Slytherins and saw the wands coming out. Hermione and Harry cast Protego between the two sides of the battle lines. Ernie jumped up and did the same.

"Calm down everyone! Back to your seats! Ginny?" Hermione said, calling out to the other Head Girl.

Ginny had her wand out, too, but wasn't aiming at Draco, so much as glaring at Harry, who was firmly on Draco's side of the line. She ignored Hermione's attempt to get her attention and continued staring at Harry, annoyed. But Harry focused on the others, ignoring Ginny's piercing gaze.

Harper, the Slytherin Head Boy, hadn't made a move either way. Dean and Smith seemed ready to bring it on, but Ernie and Hermione got the eighth years to back off. The seventh years, however, stood their ground. One kid tried to send another spell, but it was vanished before Theo could deflect it.

"Detention, Maxwell!" McGonagall said, irate. "Everyone not in their seats in the next five seconds will get a detention!"

There was a mad scramble and Blaise pulled Draco into the back seats. Theo and Daphne took the desk next to them. Harry sat down a couple of rows away from the Slytherins, least he listen to Ron seething next to him all hour. Hermione sat on the other side of Ron at a desk with Ernie. Harry wondered if she was trying to force Ron and him together.

"If you all would behave... welcome to NEWT level Transfiguration. We will spend today reviewing as to get everyone on the same page and see where we need to improve. We have some nifflers up here. Each table come and get two."

McGonagall had twenty different types of Transfiguration spells on the board, changing the niffler to decorative bowl, to a cat, to a flower pot, and it kept going. A hard run-through of the spells from their previous years. Hermione and Ernie got along like kindred spirits. Harry looked at Ron. He'd forgotten most of the spells, too. They pulled out the text to help them locate the correct words for each of them. Harry grimaced because he barely remembered how to do this.

"I think Flumaora... is number ten," Harry remembered.

"Yeah, that sounds familiar. Holy Cannons... you'd think we'd remember more?" Ron said and Harry gave him a reluctant smile. When they were in class, it seemed like everything was normal, but a quick thought about Draco and the smile faded.

Harry glanced back at Draco and was confused by what he saw. Draco was siting looking around him like he hadn't a care in the world. Blaise looked at Harry just held up his hands, telling him not to worry. Then he nudged Draco and he looked down at his niffler, no wand out, staring at it. Was Draco really going to do wandless magic in the middle of class?

"Mr. Malfoy, let's see you do number one," Professor McGonagall said, making Draco focus on her.

He grimaced. "Yes, h-headmistress." But just sat there.

Blaise nudged him again and quietly said, "Your wand, Draco. Sorry, professor, Madam Pomfrey gave him a bunch of potions and he's a little... groggy."

Professor McGonagall nodded, but waited for Draco to fish out his wand. He made the wand movements and whispered the spell. The niffler turned into a bright green bowl.

"Excellent, Mr. Malfoy, ten points to... hmm... Slytherin. I guess," the Transfiguration professor nodded, deciding not to make the eighth year dorm its own house. Then she turned to stop at Harry's table. "Mr. Potter? Number 2?"

"We haven't found the answer, yet," Harry said, chagrin. Ron poked him for admitting it. Harry hit him back.

"Number ten, then?" McGonagall said, stiffly, like she had heard him.

Harry took out his wand and said, "Flumagora!"

The niffler turned into a silver metal goblet. Etches on the side of the bowl of the cup revealed a silvery dragon.

"Impressive, Mr. Potter, your lack of memory notwithstanding. Did you mean to make it silver?"

"Umm... I thought that when you add the "g" it augments the spell. So, yes?"

"When did you learn that? I don't recall teaching you that."

"Hermione told me that when I was studying for my OWL exams. She helped Ron and I pass our Transfiguration exam," he said, getting a smile from Hermione.

Professor McGonagall gave him a hard stare and then looked at the design on the side. "You must have focused your mind on this pattern. Ten points will be awarded, but you and Mr. Weasley will write the answers twenty times before next class in the hopes that it will sunk into your thick heads."

The headmistress went on to the other tables, challenging their classmates' memories. Hermione and Ernie had no problems demonstrating their abilities. Ginny managed a halfway decent parrot. Seamus's goblet had a hole in the side and Susan Bones turned her niffler into a yellow canary instead of a parrot, which promptly flew out the window to freedom.

Ron swore lowly, thinking they had gotten awaywith it, and flipped through their book, grumbling about extra homework, butHarry twisted the silvery goblet in his hand. He smiled and turned to look atDraco, again. His grey eyes were locked onto him and Draco had a proud smirk onhis face.    

Sorry about the long wait for an update! It has been a long week. I didn't forget to write.

Not to bore you with my pesky life problems, but after working 4 12s and 2 8s, my car broke down (just stalled out on the freeway with no brakes or steering... super awesome fun), I'm sick, and worst off my laptop (yes my priorities revolve around my computer) decided it didn't want to connect to the internet for four days.... And just when I was about to break down and seek professional tech support for it... it just started working... stubborn bastard. It knew... the sneaky SOB. I even backed-up everything, too, but that's a good idea anyway.

It's another long work week ahead... but I write every day, even a few paragraphs before sleep time. I'm almost done with 29 and plotted out 30. It's going good. Even if I spent my only day off, playing 4 hours of mexican train double 15 set of dominoes with my people. I did get 5 hours of writing in... not too bad. Family is important, too... I guess.

Stay tuned... we're at 2K reads right now, so I'm glad you guys are enjoying the painfully slow 온라인카지노게임... smirk face!