The Chaos Construct!
When Draco had suggested a talent show for the school, he, in his naiveté, had completely forgotten that he was living in a reality where Pansy, Hermione, the twins, and Blaise were friends. Not acquaintances, but proper partners in crime. As a result, the chaos that arose was incomprehensible and beyond his wildest imaginations.
The initial suggestion was championed by Pansy and Hermione. For some inexplicable reason, a couple of purebloods had raised their noses high in the air and snubbed them (which honestly warranted the confrontation they received— who in their right mind would snub a self-righteous Hermione Granger and the most snobbish pureblood, Pansy Parkinson?). In response, Pansy, in all her pureblood glory and snobbery, had taken it upon herself to confront the haters. Hermione, in her Muggle-born pride, had taken offense and enlisted the help of Blaise (of all the swoty students).
The three of them sought refuge in the library and, after just one day of isolation and research, unearthed the most arbitrary, ambiguous laws and policies to confound the purebloods. Draco was pretty sure that in the near future, the talent show would become essential for every wizarding school, and in the coming years, it would be known as a stipulated event of wizarding society.
The proverbial fuel was added by the twins to fire to generate tsunami-level chaos, who had come up with the idea that the purebloods would compete without magic, while the Muggle-borns would showcase their magical talent— to prove their real potential, of course.
It was going to be a hell of a ride, and Draco was here for it.
.....
On their first day of classes, Draco had been challenged to a duel by Sir Cadogen, a stout knight portrayed in a painting outside the Divination classroom, for his uncouth behavior.(He had asked for the directions to the divination classroom. Honestly the clownery found in this castle was astounding.)
With the jeering and cheering from his group, Draco had taken arms (used his quill) and was happy to vandalise school property and drew a self depicting stick figure and the most hilarious swords he could imagine on the portrait. He then spelled them to duel with the Stout Knight. By the end of the duel Sir Cadogen had promised his undying loyalty and fidelity to the winner (Draco, Obviously) and the others were rolling on the floor laughing.
Professor Trelawny proved to be nothing like the hag from the films. She was... elegant.
She wore a flowing garment of some sort, a peculiar combination of toga and robe. Her jewelry was an eclectic mix of gems, crystals, beads, and feathers. Her hair was a blend of fluorescent white and stormy grey, and her eyes were a beautiful mix of dusky hues. Her aura radiated calm but promised unparalleled chaos (not weird at all). She entered the class surrounded by smoke of unknown origins (Draco hoped it wasn’t the usual hippie smoke... but by the smell of it, it felt... weedy).
Her introduction was met with confused silence, awed stares. Her pronouncement that no books were required for studying Divination was met with grins and mischievous smiles. Ron, Vince and Greg did some high fives to celebrate, their morals high with the possibility of bullshitting through the classes to getting great grades. If Draco read Hermione correctly, she was ready to riot. After giving Lavender a mysterious warning about losing something dear, Trelawny suddenly turned to Draco. And Draco knew whatever the books said about her, Trelawny was as real as they came.
“Ah, the one who traverses not only time but moves beyond the confines of space itself, the Fates have told me about you. ” she intoned, lowering herself to look Draco in the eyes with unmatched intensity. “Trapped within a vessel that is not your own, yet it grants you the desire to live as the boy you always wanted to be... a being not of this world yet tethered to the fate of the savior, destined to shield him from the tribulations that lie ahead. But what of your own destiny? What of your own fate? Will you find fulfillment on your quest, I wonder? Or will it prove to be vain in the end?”
A tense silence followed Trelawny’s pronouncement, but she seemed unaware of it herself as she abruptly turned towards the front of the class.
“Now, I want you all to divide into pairs—”
Draco was getting whiplash with how fast Trelawny had jumped from Prophetic seer to bewildering professor. The class returned to order, or as much order as could be expected from teenagers excited about some ominous prophetic announcement. They paired up to read their fortunes in tea leaves. Draco didn’t know whether to be afraid or to laugh at his fate in that moment. This year was supposed to be easy.
(“What the fuck was that?”
“That's what a prophet is. All-knowing...”
“So she’s not a hag?”
“Obviously not... honestly, Draco, you need to up your observation game.”
“Should I be afraid of her?”
“No need. She's just here to help you.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of, Vii.”)
At least Draco was ready for the whole Grim fiasco. Everyone fell silent for the second time in class when Trelawny announced that Harry had a deadly enemy. Hermione just snorted in disbelief, and the class moved on as Trelawny began reading the tea leaves of other students.
She stopped again in front of Draco, picking up his cup to read his future. Less than a minute later, Trelawny dropped his cup with a scream.
“I think... I think we should stop the lesson here for today,” she said her voice trembling. She Stared at Draco. “You play with the destinies of others, but heed this: the puppeteer manipulates all in the end.” she exclaimed in her mistiest voice yet, & disappeared into the smoke again.
Everyone silently started packing their things, curious and apprehensive about what had happened. He had just wanted one easy year. One year. Was that too much to ask?
.....
No one said anything as they made their way to Transfiguration. They barely made it on time; it took that long for them to find their way back to the classroom. Everyone kept giving Draco worried, apprehensive looks. He felt as though he was thrown into the spotlight again. He took everything in stride though. Given the number of times he had been in the spotlight, if he didn’t know any better, he would have thought he was the male lead of this story. Fortunately for him, he did know better and was relieved that, for once, Harry would be having a relaxed year.("Don’t jinx it, you idiot.”)
In Transfiguration, he almost burst out laughing at McGonagall telling them all about Animagi. (Seriously, Foreshadowing much?) The class must have failed to show proper excitement for her transformation into a cat, preoccupied with worry for Draco. She turned back into her human self with a pop and exclaimed, “What has gotten into you all today? Not that it matters, but that’s the first time my transformation hasn’t elicited applause from the class.”
If it wasn’t for Draco’s sanity and safety he would have felt bad for McGonagall. As it happened, everyone turned towards Draco, as if that were answer enough. Then Pansy raised her hand and said, “It’s not you, Professor. We just had our first Divination class of the term—”
“Ah, of course,” McGonagall said. “There’s no need to say anything more. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?”
“Me,” Harry said, as everyone stared at her in wonder.
“I see. Then you should know, Potter, that Sybill has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school.” She fixed her feline glare on Harry. “You look in excellent health to me, Potter, so you will excuse me if I don’t let you off homework today. I assure you, you won’t need to hand it in in case of your prophesized death.”
Everyone chuckled at that, but Neville was next to raise his hand.
“It’s not just that, Professor.”
“What is it, Mr. Longbottom?” McGonagall turned to Neville.
“She warned Draco to beware of a puppeteer who manipulates. She also said Draco was a space and time traveler.”
McGonagall frowned. “Did she now?” She fixed her stare on Draco now. “Was her voice any different from the norm by chance, Mr. Malfoy?”
“No, Professor,” Draco blinked.
“Then I guess you are safe for now as well,” McGonagall said, her eyes still troubled, but she was clearly didn’t want her students to worry. “Now, if you all can turn to your books.”
The rest of the day went relatively peacefully, sans the Buckbeak incident. Pansy, Hermione, and Blaise went to their spot in the library to plan the Talent Show. Fred and George took Draco to the Room of Requirement for a demonstration of their event preparations. The rest went on their way to plan posters and announcements. All in all it had been an expected, traumatic and traditional start of the year.
......
“How is it, Draco?” Pansy asked.
“Does it hurt much?” Vince mumbled.
The somewhat peaceful start of the term had lulled Draco into thinking he was safe from any injuries. The uneventful Care of Magical Creatures class was followed by a devastating attack by Peeves, which somehow ended with Draco fracturing his right arm. (To be honest, Draco should have known better. This World had a thing for following the story outline and major events, and getting a fractured arms was one of those events.)
As far as he was concerned, the universe or rather This Universe was conspiring against his valiant efforts to save Harry’s life from trauma and tribulations (as Trelawny had said).
Draco was on his merry way to the dorms after dinner when Peeves, on his daily dose of mayhem, unleashed an epic dungbomb attack. It caused chaos in the crowd of students returning to their dorms. The stampede had been particularly devastating for Draco, personally. He woke up to find his arm in a sling and himself high on painkiller potions.
“Yes, it hurts,” Draco slurred. “But iza good hurt... I’m flying on a cloud...”
“Yeah, high as a kite,” Harry grumbled, causing Draco to giggle uncontrollably. “At least it’s better than the dreamless sleep.”
“No, no sleepless dream,” Draco sat up, his arms flailing.
“Settle down, you hippie,” Pansy pushed him back down. “No sleep potions for you.”
“At least it wasn’t Buckbeak this time,” Draco cackled, or at least he thought he cackled, but everything was turning blurry, and he was too happy to worry about anything.