Friendly Surprises
“I’m an idiot!” A quick way to put Ron in good spirits once more--a really quick way--would certainly turn out to be waking him up with those words at the Gryffindor table over breakfast as Draco slapped himself on the wrist, holding his head and shaking it. Ron jerked up from where he looked as if he might pass out at any second from exhaustion only coming from a lack of sleep, to grin like a madman, hand to his ear.
“What was that, Malfoy? Could you repeat that for me? Maybe get it on recording?” The blonde merely rolled his eyes, batting Ron away and turning to Harry, eyebrows down in concern. "I seriously am a total nutter. How could I have not thought to put the egg under water? Well, what's done is done. Harry, I should probably be the one to take the egg--I know the perfect spot."
Harry raised an eyebrow in suspicion as he leaned down to his bag and removed the egg from it, asking, "And what would that be?" Before handing it off. “The Prefect’s bath of course.”
And then, before Harry could say another word, the boy had bolted out of the Great Hall as Hermione called after him, "Nice waste of food prepared meticulously by SLAVE LABOR!"
She then turned to face her friends' annoyed faces and blinked in confusion. "What? It's slave labor, and he supports it." Ron looked ready to make a rude retort but stopped himself, probably not overly eager to get into another fight with his friend.
"Guess I'll be taking this to those who deserve it instead." Hermione said as she stood from her seat and picked up Draco's plate of hardly touched eggs and toast, winking once at the boys before heading off out of the Great Hall. Ron turned to face Harry with a face that only said he was struggling to keep himself together now, before standing as well.
“I’m gonna head back to the Common Room to get ahead on some homework. Hey, want to make up some new predictions for Divination?” Harry smirked, standing as well, ignoring the fact that his food too had not been finished. “Sure thing.” He said, and the two jogged off out of the Great Hall, Harry hardly even thinking about what Draco Malfoy could possibly be doing with his egg and instead looking forward to laughing with his old friend again, something he sometimes missed despite having the blonde to laugh with him now too. Old times were much better than new times, afterall, especially if those new times came about from some unfortunate old times. If that makes sense.
-*-*-*-
One of the many pluses to being pureblood supremacist Draco Malfoy, son of ministry man Lucius Malfoy, is you learn quickly from him how to sweet talk anyone to get your way, but, for once, Draco got to do that now for a good reason, instead of a rotten one. Explaining to Cassius Warrington, his 6th Year Prefect, that he needed their bathrooms as no other place would be private enough for a predicament like this--being the golden egg mystery--had been much easier than he had thought due to his overall ‘shrug off’ attitude and relative understanding, a rarity for a Slytherin, especially an older one. Or maybe he was just hanging out with the wrong crowd…
Whatever it may be, it worked, and now he was inside the massive, incredibly unnecessarily grandiose baths, ready to figure out if Cedric had been pulling Harry’s leg or not. But firmly believed he had not, however, as the whole concept of opening the egg underwater made perfect sense, and he knew Harry’s crush for Cho was just getting in the way with reason, though he couldn’t remember a time where Potter ever had reason to begin with, anyway.
Despite being dramatic for just a bunch of pompous and perfect 5th, 6th, and 7th Years, the bathroom did remind him of his own manor, maybe a bit better (okay definitely better) and few things did at Hogwarts. Or, he didn’t let himself think that few things did.
The bath itself was massive and deep, more like an indoor swimming pool than anything, complete with a ladder and a diving board, and surrounded by hundreds of golden taps on all sides, each with a different color jewel sitting on its handle. Finally, as Draco raised his head from marveling at the various golden taps, his eyes fell on a large portrait of a mermaid, who seemed to be asleep on the rock she sat on, snoring slightly.
Wanting to waste no time and worried someone might rush in, Draco cast a strong locking charm on the door--not that it would do much--and grabbed a soft towel, setting it on the side of the pool and dropping the egg on top, turning on a blue and pink tap while stripping off his robes and uniform underneath.
Once the tub was full of blue and pink water and bubbles, mixing in a nice shade of lavender, Draco sank himself into the water, which was so deep his feet could only barely lay flat there. Seeing no harm in it, the Malfoy boy decided to do one lap around the pool before picking the egg up off the towel, and sinking it into the water, so it disappeared beneath the bubbles.
“Oh, that was quick.”
Draco jumped, letting out a yelp and swallowing some bubbles as a result, dropping the egg down to the depths of the tub as well from the shock of the sudden voice, but then immediately looked around wildly for the source of it. His eyes landed on the ghost of a lone girl in Ravenclaw robes, sitting cross-legged on the top of one of the taps, leaned forward with her chin cupped in her hand, eyes wide behind her large and clunky glasses. Draco had a sneaking suspicion he knew who it was, but he didn’t say anything for a moment, mouth hanging open in shock as she continued to speak.
“Took the other boy ages to even put it in the water. You must already know how it works, huh? Who are you anyway… You’re not Harry… Or his ugly hairy girlfriend, and certainly not that red haired boy. So who are you?”
Draco shut his mouth at last, swallowing hard, then frowned at her, eyebrows low. “The name’s Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. You must be Moaning Myrtle, right?” The girl’s face scrunched up into a sneer, and she pushed herself up off the tap and rose to float in the air, crossing her arms. “Yes, that’s right… The famous moaning, moping, Myrtle. Hey, don’t I know your last name?” The girl stopped in the air, then began to float down onto a tap closer to the blonde. “Malfoy… Like Abraxas Malfoy? That evil bully… I hope you aren’t related to him. You can’t be. He was ugly.”
Draco had enough of a common sense complex to not blurt out that yes he was related to Abraxas--that it was his grandfather--and instead, shook his head, eyes still confused as they eyed Myrtle.
“Excuse me but… what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in another bathroom? And--Wait. How long have you been here? I’m naked!”
“Don’t worry.” The girl waved a hand in a bored way as he pushed some bubbles towards him to surround his bare chest. “I closed my eyes when you took your robes off. And as for why I’m here, I like to watch the Prefects sometimes. It can be so lonely being surrounded by only girls in that bathroom you know? And no one ever comes in anyway. This is the first time I’ve come out to speak to anyone before.”
Draco grimaced in disgust, wishing Harry had warned him that there would be a pervert ghost in here too, seeing as how they knew each other so well. “Right…” He groaned then turned to look down at the water, trying to find where the egg had gone, but not being able to see through the thick layer of bubbles, even with his seeker’s eyes. So he instead held his breath, and dived in, opening his eyes underwater to see that the egg had rolled to the other side of the tub. He swam down, picked it up, and popped up on the other side, yelping once more when he saw Myrtle was waiting for him on yet another tap.
“Don’t mind me. Go ahead, put it under water again, since you seem to already know how this works…” Draco glared at her not so subtly, and she stuck her tongue out at him back, but he then sank into the water as he had originally planned, and unlatched the egg. This time, instead of a screaming sound, he heard a chorus of beautiful singing voices coming from the open egg in his hands.
“Come seek us where our voices sound,
We cannot sing above the ground,
And while your searching, ponder this:
We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss,
An hour long you’ll have to look,
And to recover what we took,
But past an hour-the prospect’s black,
Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back.”
Draco’s head popped out of the water, and immediately he exclaimed, “The Lake!” to which Myrtle squealed, grinning and clapping her hands. “Ooh, you are a quick one! All the bubbles had popped by the time Cedric Diggory figured it out. How did you know?” Draco shook his head, knowing revealing the aquarium in the Slytherin Common Room was technically forbidden. “Secret.” He instead mumbled, and dunked back under the water.
He listened to the song a couple more times to memorize it, and after that, set the egg on the side of the pool and started to do some more laps while Myrtle watched him, smirking. He tried to ignore her, instead thinking of the lyrics and what they meant.
“I’ll have to go to the Lake, where they’ve taken what I’ll sorely miss. I have an hour but I’ll be…” Draco stopped at the other end of the pool, turning to the ghost with wide eyes. “How am I supposed to hold my breath for an hour?!”
He was a good swimmer, he had to admit, having taken private lessons as he did with most other activities, and having an indoor pool just like this one at the Manor as well as a lake in a nearby forest. But despite being good at moving through the water, no one could possibly be this good at holding their breath underwater. That's impossible. This Task was impossible.
Draco was brought out of his thoughts however by a loud sniffle, and Myrtle’s sudden muttering of, “Tactless!” He frowned, almost scowling at her as he asked, “What’s tactless?” in nothing of a sensitive tone, to which she leaned forward, almost rising off the tap once more, and screaming, “Talking about breathing in front of me!”
She rose up at last then, flying herself in circles around the pool and keeping her hands to her face and sobbing. “When I can’t… When I haven’t… Not for ages…”
Draco’s eyes darted to follow her around the bathroom, bewildered, during her sputtering before he finally raised his hands out of the water in something of a surrendering motion, exclaiming, “Excuse me? I’m sorry, I didn’t know--Don’t cry, you’ll get me caught--Slow down, Myrtle!” The girl came to an abrupt stop in front of him, and sank into the water, pulling out a handkerchief and blowing her nose but still glowering at him.
“I’m sorry.” He finally admitted, dropping his hands and creasing his brows together in what he hoped looked like sincerity. “I didn’t know, okay? I didn’t know that you--”
“Died?” Myrtle threw her head back and cackled shakily, before flicking it back forward to glare at him once more. “Right since it’s not very obvious is it? Hard to tell, right? I bet so… Nobody missed me even when I was alive, and surely no one cared when they found my body, now did they? It took them hours and hours, you know, and all the while I sat waiting for them. Eventually, it was Olive Hornby, of all people, to come on in. ‘Are you in here again, sulking, Myrtle?’ she said, ‘because Professor Dippet asked me to look for you--’ And then she saw my body… Oooh, she didn’t forget it until her dying day, I made sure of that--”
But Draco wasn’t listening, as his mind had suddenly fallen into a wormhole of realization. A child, dead in a bathroom… Her ghost has been there for ages… Professor Dippet?
“Myrtle,” Draco raised a hand to her robes as if to hold her arm despite her being a translucent ghost and thus that being impossible, “When did you die?”
The girl stopped, eyes wide as saucers and insulted, but, for some strange reason, found herself answering him instead of crying again. “1943.”
Draco’s hand dropped to the water with a plop. His eyes went wide too with realization.
“You're the Mudblood the heir of Slytherin killed, aren’t you?” Myrtle’s lips now twisted into an expression of ruthless anger as she growled, “You really are smart, hm? Don’t call me that word… You’ll regret it.” The blonde was hardly threatened, but nodded anyway. “Alright, I’ll try not to…” He lied.
“Close your eyes,” He said finally, after a moment passed where Myrtle’s glare turned to mild curiosity. “I’m getting out now.” And with that he turned once she covered her eyes with her hands, and climbing out of the tub, grabbed the towel, tying it around his waist and circling the tub to pick up the egg and set it near his clothes, before beginning to dry himself.
He gave her permission to open her eyes only when he had slipped his robes back on over his uniform, and then, with the egg tucked under his arm, he nodded to her. “Thanks for the help.” He said genuinely, despite her not really being much help at all. “You’re welcome.” He then turned to go, but the girl rose herself back into the air, sitting down on the mermaid’s portrait frame, and called after him, “Hey, wait!”
He stopped, turning slowly, and found she had stretched out a hand, but now pulled it back, wincing and looking away. “I--Er--You were really nice to me. You didn’t roll your eyes when I cried or anything. Why?” He hadn’t? Draco hadn’t noticed. He was really failing at being much of a bully lately, huh? “Er--I… You were sad. Everyone has a right to be sad. But not everyone gets the--erm--chance to be.”
Myrtle looked like Christmas, despite it being yesterday, had come again today, as she grinned and her eyes welled with tears once more, except now they were tears of happiness, for possibly the first time.
“Thank you.” She squeaked and Draco nodded once before turning and dashing out of the bathroom, convincing himself he was happy to be out of there, though he had to admit, Myrtle hadn’t been all that bad, really.
-*-*-*-
“So, basically, we’re back to square one; How to fight merpeople.” Leaned across a table at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, Draco winced and sat back in his chair, picking up his mug of butterbear and sipping it, whilst nodding his head to Harry’s words. “Yeah, basically…” The Gryffindor across from him merely groaned and leaned back as well, not bothering to get a drink and instead dropping his head in his hands.
“Why does this all have to be so hard?” Harry jerked his head up, eyes wide in anger. “No wonder there was an Age Line! We don’t know any of the spells we’re supposed to know! You’re Malfoy so of course you know the Summoning Charm, but Ferrifors? That was a N.E.W.T level spell!”
“Look at it this way, Harry,” Ron said as he walked up to them, a butterbeer in hand. “Now you’ve been getting way better at Transfiguration! You may be better than Hermione even, AND, Professor McGonagall likes you.” He took a seat beside his best friend and gulped down a quarter of the beer in one sip. Harry gave him a weak smile in response. “Thanks, Ron.”
“Oh don’t be ridiculous,” Draco, of course, wasn’t as comforting. “McGonagall’s always favored him! She’s the one who got him on the Quidditch team, for Merlin’s sake!”
“Actually,” Draco already seemed to accept his fate even before Hermione took the empty seat beside him, with a butterbear of her own in hand, sighing and turning to face her with solemn eyes. “I distinctly remember you being the one who led to that course of events, Malfoy, remember? Or do you need a remembrall to jog your memory?” She winked, and Harry snorted while Ron chuckled, remembering that yes, Draco’s theft of Neville’s remembrall in their 1st year had directly led to Harry getting put on the Quidditch team.
“Oh ha ha, very funny Granger.” Despite playing it off with hate, there was a sparkle of amusement in Draco’s gray eyes. Harry had to cherish it, and remember that yes, this was normal. They were making it normal. Draco and Hermione could get along just as he and Harry could, and maybe soon Ron would fall in line too. More than he already has, anyway.
“We should probably talk about the matter of you two holding your breath for an hour, though.” Hermione said after taking a sip from her drink and wiping her upper lip with her sleeve. “I’m thinking Transfiguration for Harry, of course, since you seem to be doing so well at it now--” There was a hint of jealousy in her eyes then, that Ron was quick to see as he jabbed Harry in the gut and smirked with an ‘I told you so’ kind of mirth--”but what we’ll do for you, Malfoy, is the trouble I’m having.”
She frowned, turning to face him, as if sizing him up, and making the blonde suddenly very uncomfortable. He didn’t believe the next words coming out of his mouth, but he also didn’t like how the brunette was scrutinizing him, so, deciding to pointedly ignore the subject for now, he blurted, “We have a month, Granger. Surely we’ll figure it out later. For now,”
He raised his mug to the air, grinning, “Happy Boxing Day!” Hermione knew for certain that he was avoiding the question, but still fell in line with her other friends as they raised their mugs in the air and declared in unison, “Happy Boxing Day!” They drank and enjoyed the rest of their short break from school, then, and for once Harry found himself entering the new year in a week with next to no negative sentiments about Draco Malfoy.
He was a great flier, but played fair when he wasn’t with his teammates and instead with the Weasley’s. Despite it being against one of the terms of their agreement to be friends, he helped out with homework quite often, which Harry could tell Ron was secretly very thankful for, especially with Potions. He wasn’t actually an awful human being, because when he was around people he didn’t despise, which strangely was the Trio now, he was as good a friend as any other Harry had, if possessing a dry sense of humor.
He wouldn’t do it now--would probably wait until maybe spring, at least, but Harry decided then that eventually he would need to talk to Draco about prolonging their fake friendship. About how he didn’t think it was fake anymore. About how kind his Christmas gift was, and how he wished that it could really mean something, and he knew it would, if he chose to be his friend. He didn’t deserve to ask that of him--not after his rejection in First Year of a friendship, but he had a sinking suspicion (realized it as he noticed the blonde sneak glances at him when he thought no one was looking over the week, touching his arm or hand while laughing, if only slightly) that Draco would agree to everything he said too.
But for now, he was content with making his Trio of friends a Quartet.
-*-*-*-
The snow was thick on Hogwarts when term started up again, so thick that the Gryffindor students in morning Herbology couldn’t see a thing through the white windows, and it was a good thing a break followed class because Professor Sprout spent all of passing time trying to get the greenhouse doors open for the students, who really preferred to stay warmly indoors.
But eventually they had to get pushed out into the cold, and half the group whom Harry, Ron, and Hermione all shared Care of Magical Creatures with had to face the solemn truth that it was time to deal with the skrewts again. The only plus Ron could think of on that note was that they might melt the snow and warm them up a bit, to which Harry grumbled they’d warm him up with anger.
The group should have suspected something was off just by how uncharacteristically happy the Slytherins looked stumbling down the snow path to Hagrid’s hut, but instead they didn’t question it, just joining Draco where he walked at the end of the line, clutching the morning’s Daily Prophet issue in his fist and looking like he might be sick.
“What’s up?” Harry asked while Ron and Hermione frowned as they fell a pace behind the two boys, the latter’s eyes trained upon the newspaper. “Nothing.” Draco lied to which Ron rebutted, “Wrong. There’s the sky.” and Hermione thrusted her hand forward and ripped the paper out of his fist.
“Hey!” He shouted, spinning around and trying to grab it back but it was too late, her eyes had scanned the headline, read enough, and her jaw dropping, her hands letting go of the paper and letting it float to the snow. Draco caught it before it could hit the ground but instantly Ron and Harry lunged for the thing, ripping it a bit this time, as Hermione stumbled backwards in the snow and pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes still wide and unseeing.
There, in big bold lettering, the page read;
DUMBLEDORE’S GIANT MISTAKE
The boys looked up, glancing between Draco and Hermione, but the former was staring pointedly at the ground, mouth screwed shut, and the latter was still frozen still. So, they read.
Albus Dumbledore, eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has never been afraid to make controversial staff appointments, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. In September of this year, he hired Alastor “Mad-Eye” Moody, the notoriously jinx-happy ex-Auror, to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, a decision that caused many raised eyebrows at the Ministry of Magic, given Moody’s well-known habit of attacking anybody who makes a sudden movement in his presence. Mad-Eye Moody, however, looks responsible and kindly when set beside the part-human Dumbledore employs to teach Care of Magical Creatures.
Rubeus Hagrid, who admits to being expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, has enjoyed the position of gamekeeper at the school ever since a job secured for him by Dumbledore. Last year, however, Hagrid used his mysterious influence over the headmaster to secure the additional post of Care of Magical Creatures teacher, over the heads of many better-qualified candidates.
An alarmingly large and ferocious-looking man, Hagrid has been using his newfound authority to terrify the students in his care with a succession of horrific creatures. While Dumbledore turns a blind eye, Hagrid has maimed several pupils during a series of lessons that many admit to being "very frightening."
"I was attacked by a hippogriff last year and it injured me," says Draco Malfoy, a fourth-year student. "We all hate Hagrid, there’s nothing more to it than that.”
Hagrid has no intention of ceasing his campaign of intimidation, however. In conversation with a Daily Prophet reporter last month, he admitted breeding creatures he has dubbed "Blast-Ended Skrewts," highly dangerous crosses between manti-cores and fire-crabs. The creation of new breeds of magical creatures is, of course, an activity usually closely observed by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Hagrid, however, considers himself to be above such petty restrictions.
"I was just having some fun," he says, before hastily changing the subject.
As if this were not enough, the Daily Prophet has now unearthed evidence that Hagrid is not - as he has always pretended - a pure-blood wizard. He is not, in fact, even a pure human. His mother, we can exclusively reveal, is none other than the giantess Fridwulfa, whose whereabouts are currently unknown.
Bloodthirsty and brutal, the giants brought themselves to the point of extinction by warring amongst themselves during the last century. The handful that remained joined the ranks of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and were responsible for some of the worst mass Muggle killings of his reign of terror.
While many of the giants who served He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were killed by Aurors working against the Dark Side, Fridwulfa was not among them. It is possible she escaped to one of the giant communities still existing in foreign mountain ranges. If his antics during Care of Magical Creatures lessons are any guide, however, Fridwulfa's son appears to have inherited her brutal nature.
In a bizarre twist, Hagrid is reputed to have developed a close friendship with the boy who brought around You-Know-Who's fall from power - thereby driving Hagrid's own mother, like the rest of You-Know-Who's supporters, into hiding. Perhaps Harry Potter is unaware of the unpleasant truth about his large friend – but Albus Dumbledore surely has a duty to ensure that Harry Potter, along with his fellow students, is warned about the dangers of associating with part-giants.
Harry slowly looked up from the article to glare daggers at Malfoy, any pretense he might have had about him being a nice guy shattering. “You jerk. You pompous git!” He yelled while Ron, much like he did at the Quidditch World Cup, called Malfoy a rather nasty name he wouldn’t be caught dead saying around Mrs. Weasley and the blonde turned his back even farther away from them, the scowl on his face twitching just slightly. “We trusted you!”
“It’s not his fault.” Hermione murmured, and the boys whipped their heads around to hers, to see she was dropping her end, squeezing her eyes, no doubt to hold back tears, and breathing shakily. “It’s not his fault…” She repeated, and took the paper away from them, tore it up, then tossed it to the wind, sniffing once before turning to look Ron and Harry in the eyes.
“She cornered him after our Ancient Runes class months ago. I’d completely forgotten. He tried to ignore her, but she just kept pestering her, so I said, ‘Just tell her what she wants to hear, Malfoy. Tell her about Buckbeak. It’s old news, what’s the worst that could happen?’” Her voice cracked into something like a sob, and Draco finally shouted a word not quite as bad as Ron’s and kicked at the snow before holding his head.
Harry already was feeling the heat in his heart cool but Ron wasn’t going to let this slide yet. “So why’d you say we all hate him?” “Because we do!” Draco spun around, his face red and eyes wide, looking almost as mad as he had the day they found the Room of Requirement. “I thought it was a harmless thing to say, Weasley. A truth everybody knows, okay?! This isn’t my fault, I had no clue about the giant thing--I’m sorry!” He kicked the snow once more, before standing still, shoulders slumped, rising and falling with the pace of his heavy breathing.
“I understand.” Harry said, to which Ron turned to face with a look of bewilderment he pointedly ignored, instead stepping up to the blonde and placing a hand on his shoulder. “I saw what you thought of Skeeter in the cupboard. You hate her, you’d never say those things willingly. You’re right. It’s not your fault.”
Hermione looked quite plainly flabbergasted to find Harry willing to forgive Draco so easily, and Ron did too, but in a very different way. Harry ignored them, instead turning and slinging his arm around the blonde’s shoulders, stepping them forward down the path to Care of Magical Creatures. “Now, let’s go make things right, okay?” He looked to see Draco’s reaction, and he looked stunned too by Harry’s actions, but nodded slowly, gulping before smiling. “Let’s.” He said, and off they went, Hermione quickly hurrying down ahead of them and Ron stumbling behind, still quite confused. The pieces of the paper floated in the air above them, completely forgotten and meaningless.
It didn’t happen immediately, but eventually the group managed to break into Hagrid’s hut and have quite the discussion with him and Dumbledore, learning of his mother and father, informing him of the great progress made with the egg and the Second Task, and an understanding at last being able to be passed between Malfoy and Half-Giant, in which the old Headmaster looked quite pleased.
Harry realized, as he drifted to sleep that night, that Draco Malfoy had become quite the man of surprises to him, but he didn't hate it all that much. He had surprised him with his ability to crack the egg mystery, had surprised him with his strange friendliness, and now surprised him with his unexpected sympathy to the ‘big oaf’ he’d been despising ever since he spotted him in Diagon Alley with Harry. They were all surprises, yes, but for once in his life Harry didn’t mind these surprises, and instead saw them as further fuel to his fiery desire to have a real, true friendship with the boy.
But for now, it was time to move onto bigger problems…
How was his hopefully soon-to-be friend going to learn to breathe underwater in less than a month?