Halloween in Hogsmede
Chapter 9: Halloween in Hogsmede
Mother.
Draco was taken aback. How was he this far back in time? Narcissa couldn’t be more than sixteen. The fear in his gut was temporarily quelled at seeing her. She may not be his mother yet in this time, but he knew she had always been a strong and formidable witch.
However, this new feeling of safety was quickly dissolving as he remembered the more pressing danger on the other side of the clearing. Narcissa edged closer, shedding her cloak completely and carrying it with her. She was barefoot, and wearing only a white dressing gown. She’ll freeze —Draco took a step closer to intervene, but he felt the edge of a strong warming charm, and he tucked himself just inside the edge of it.
Draco felt his fingers and toes begin to defrost a bit, he hadn’t realized how much body heat he had released during his practice session that morning. A soft crunching of leaves sounded from the other edge of the clearing, and his head snapped up to look into the eyes of a wolf.
It was larger than any regular sized wolf he had seen in books and paintings, but not quite as large as his imagination had expected. The golden eyes of the wolf were fixated on his mother, but Narcissa showed no fear. She approached slowly, taking measured steps forward until she was in the center of the field. The wolf matched Narcissa, step for step, and as it reached the meeting point, the bright autumn sun filtered through the trees, casting glittering light across its chestnut fur.
The large wolf bowed its head slightly, and Narcissa ran her delicate, pale fingers across the wolf’s head and neck. Is she petting it? Great. So mother’s a werewolf-whisperer now! Draco internally grumbled. He would need to have a serious conversation with her when he got back to the present—past?—if he ever got back at all…
“Accalia,” his mother smiled as she knelt in front of the creature. Leaning forward, the wolf pressed its forehead to Narcissa’s, and they seemed to sit like this for a long while. Satisfied that his mother was not about to have her face ripped off, Draco inched closer to the clearing. From his new vantage point, he saw something—a body—twitching farther to the left. The grass and various plants had grown too high for Draco to make out who it was, though.
The wolf killed someone! Draco began to panic, leaping from one horrific conclusion to the next. Is mother a murderer too?!No! Of course not!
The body stirred again, and a boy sat up. Not dead then . He was younger than Draco, much too small to be out in the woods…and naked? Narcissa stood and took her cloak to the boy, wrapping it around him tightly. He looked incredibly relieved, but quickly hid his face from view, only disheveled sandy colored hair poking through.
“Come, now, let me see it,” his mother spoke in gentle tones.
Hesitantly, the boy lowered the front of the cloak to reveal a large gash across his face. Draco stifled a gasp, clutching both hands over his mouth. Professor Lupin?
Narcissa cast a few rudimentary healing spells that any respectable pureblood wife and mother would know, before helping him to his feet. They both passed by the wolf, lovingly running their fingers over its head.
“Thank you, Accalia, I will watch over him until the next moon,” she said reverently.
The wolf dipped her head in response and watched the two humans retreat to the edge of the clearing. Lupin sniffed the air, looking directly at where Draco lay hidden behind the brush and wild shrubbery. How can he see me? What happened to his face? Did the wolf do it? Why does the wolf watch him every moo— Draco froze in fear. Professor Lupin’s Boggart—not a crystal ball, no—a moon! Draco’s brain was whirring so quickly he could hardly hold onto a single thought for more than a fraction of a second.
Accalia. Where have I heard that name before?Lupin’s a werewolf! And mother knows—she’s—she’s been helping him—her friend?!He was actually telling the truth?
Narcissa guided the small boy to the front of the Forbidden Forest, just as gracefully and cheerily as she had entered it. All the while, the boy continued to track Draco’s minuscule and supposed-to-be hidden movements behind them, turning ever so often to make direct eye contact. Whatever the boy found in Draco’s eyes and scent must have only confused, but not alerted him. He looked much too exhausted to make much of a scene anyhow.
“Now Remus,” his mother turned toward the boy, “Madam Pomfrey will be waiting for you at the entrance to the Whomping Willow. I can redirect her attention momentarily, but you must be quick to get into position. Are you ready?”
The boy nodded solemnly. So Madam Pomfrey knows what he is? That must mean…Dumbledore let a known werewolf into the castle not only as a STUDENT but to TEACH?! Draco’s anger grew hot and he started to march toward the castle in ire, but he never reached it.
The trees around him spun dizzyingly, and Draco was glad he hadn’t yet eaten breakfast lest it make a swift and unwelcome reappearance. He tried to hold stead and closed his eyes, focusing on counting to ten forward and backward, over and over again, until he felt the spinning stop. Cautiously, he opened his eyes to find he was back on the Quidditch pitch, in the exact same position he had left in.
He internally whooped at the realization that he made it back in one piece and had yet to turn to dust. He transfigured a piece of his Quidditch kit into a rudimentary mirror to check to see if he’d aged. It didn’t appear he changed much at all, for which he was eternally grateful, but there was still a bad taste in his mouth. Dumbledore and Remus Lupin.
I have to tell Theo what I saw and maybe see if Granger can help me figure it all out. Forgetting his previous rage at the thought of Hermione Granger, Draco grabbed his bag and slung it onto his back, gripping the handle of his broom tightly. He pushed off with weak knees and flew to the castle doors in haste. Landing roughly, he leapt off his Nimbus 2001 and ran with great speed to the commonroom to wake Theo and Blaise.
…
“He was telling the truth?! ” Theo sputtered, nearly spraying his friends with the water he was drinking.
“That wasn’t the weirdest part, mate, didn’t you hear what he said? Narcissa knows that Lupin’s a werewolf! She’s known for decades!” Blaise pointed out a little too loudly even from the privacy of their shared dormitory.
“I don’t even want to think about that part,” Theo wobbles as he flops back onto his springy mattress. “A werewolf! Here! ”
“What should we do?” Blaise asked, turning to Draco.
“Nothing.”
“ WHAT?! ” The other two roared.
“Draco, you don’t mean that,” Theo bolted upright in his bed.
“I do. We can’t do anything. Dumbledore knows—he was Headmaster when Lupin was in school and he had to have pulled strings at the Ministry for him to not only be a student, but for him to teach here as well—“ Draco was interrupted by Theo’s shout.
“The Ministry!” Theo tried again triumphantly.
“Again, if Dumbledore was able to hire him, then the Ministry already knows, and obviously doesn’t care,” Draco admonished.
“So what then?” Blaise asked quietly.
“We watch him. Keep our guards up, but let’s not say anything to anyone else just yet,” Draco answered. “I think we should, however, pay the Professor a visit.”
As the trio moved to leave the dormitories, a new notice was dangling from the bulletin board along with the new password: Toujour Pur .
“What is it?” Pansy inquired as she came upon the group of boys hovering in front of the notice.
“The first Hogsmede weekend!” Theo joyously announced.
“Ohh!” She squealed in delight, “when?”
“End of October, Halloween,” Blaise smiled softly at the girl who blushed a bit before tucking an arm in both Draco’s and Theo’s.
“Do you think your mum could sign my permission form? She’s technically my caregiver now that we’re living at the Manor,” Theo asked Draco over Pansy’s head as she nervously tightened her hold on the two boys.
“My parents will never sign off on mine now that I’ve officially left…” Pansy croaked, trying not to shed any tears over something she pretended was so trivial.
“I’m sure if you owl your forms to my mum, she’ll sign them for you guys,” Draco reassured his two friends. Next to them, though, Blaise realized he was completely in the dark.
“Wait, why would Narcissa sign your forms? Shouldn’t your parents be doing that?” He asked curiously.
Pansy and Draco looked to Theo to regale the tale of how they came to be the newest residents of Malfoy Manor over the summer. After which Draco explained why he hadn’t owled hardly anyone over the holiday due to Snape’s unfortunate teaching methods.
“Shit! I’m so sorry—to all of you—I’ve been a right tosser the last few months…” Blaise said, distraught at nearly losing three of his best friends quite literally for good. “I—I’m gonna do better, I promise,” he declared sadly.
Theo and Draco each clapped him on the shoulder in solidarity, while Pansy reached out and squeezed his hand in her own. Blaise shot her a warm smile and she quickly averted her gaze. The group ate breakfast quickly before their day got started. They went through the motions for the most part, and Pansy reminded Draco that he had exactly zero leads to discovering Sirius’s whereabouts.
By the next morning, Narcissa had owled back all three permission forms for the upcoming Hogsmede trip—Theo’s and Pansy’s had additional notes tacked onto them stating that the two students were now living at Malfoy Manor and estranged from their respective parents and Narcissa and Lucius would be acting as their guardians for the foreseeable future. The Slytherins each handed in their forms after their next Transfiguration class and the additional notes proved to be satisfactory for Professor McGonagall’s skeptical eyes.
Classes continued as normal, until they joined the other Slytherins in the Great Hall that evening. The girls were all back to their usual routine of crowding together and whispering their gossip back and forth, while the guys chatted about Quidditch and their classes. In an almost unheard of turn of events, a tall, sandy blonde boy got up from the Ravenclaw table and sat down between Tracey and Millie.
“Anthony?” Daphne looked at the boy with wide, fearful eyes.
“Hey Daph, fancy seeing you here,” he joked awkwardly with a crooked smile.
“Wh-what are you doing?” She stuttered in a barely audible whisper.
“I wanted to ask you something—“ he started before she cut him off.
“Not here, please!” She shrieked, trying to scramble up from the table, but Anthony Goldstein held firm, looking cool as can be.
“Daphne Greengrass, will you go to Hogsmede with me? Like on a date?”
“Awwww!” The surrounding girls fawned.
Silence echoed down the rest of the Slytherin table, all eyes pulled to the odd scene like magnets—every snake waiting to see if she would accept. Daphne’s cheeks burned hot in embarrassment at being put on the spot, and her bright blue eyes darted to Theo in concern. To his credit, even through the shock at the Ravenclaw’s appearance, Theo managed to give her a tight smile and a barely-there nod.
With a gulp, she looked back to Anthony Goldstein, waiting for her answer patiently, and gave him a heartbreaking smile, “yes, of course!” The Ravenclaw beamed back at her and sauntered back to his own table which was cheering at the brave display, the tension lifted from his demeanor.
“Daph, is that the boy you were writing about all summer?” Tracey oogled. The blonde nodded in reply and picked at the rest of her plate with hearts in her eyes.
“Ohh he is rather fit,” Millie giggled, rolling her eyes when Greg grunted at the admission. “You’re fit too, ya know,” she swatted playfully at him.
“Venturing out of the snake pit, eh Daph?” Draco teased. “Was this your dreaded something from Divination? It is October nineteenth after all,” he added playfully as Daphne’s eyes shot to him in understanding.
“Oh, it must be! Professor Trelawney was exactly right, don’t you see?” She said eagerly.
“Ohhh no, not you too! It was a joke!” Draco glowered at having brought it up at all. Blaise chuckled, knowing Draco’s lack of faith in the highly questionable art of Divination, and Daphne’s (along with most of the girls’) affinity for the subject.
“Let it go, mate,” Blaise advised, chuckling. Theo smiled at his friends, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. They all willingly let it drop without further discussion, and Draco started to prattle on about Arithmancy and how wretched Potter and the other Gryffindors were. Theo tried to join in his friend’s attempt to cheer him up, but he couldn’t help but steal short glimpses of Daphne just a few seats down from him at the table.
After dinner, Draco excused himself from the group, and ventured into the library hoping to find something more on time magic. He had a feeling he wouldn’t find much, but the amount of time he had jumped earlier made him nervous to even think about attempting to use the pocket watch again. He desperately needed to use it for classes though, and he knew asking Croaker would be useless. The crotchety man would snatch it from Draco’s hands faster than he could finish his sentence, and have him thrown in St. Mungo’s as certifiably mad.
Draco roamed the stacks with purpose, open to anything remotely close to time magic. He collected a few unpromising titles, and floated them back to his usual seat. He pulled one more book, a dusty blue book with white letters: A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking. He’d never heard of the man, but maybe it would mention time travel.
Walking back to his favorite spot in the library, next to his stack of books, sat a sobbing Hermione Granger. Oh no, I don’t need any more problems today, especially ones that aren’t even mine .
“Alright, Granger, was it Scarhead or the Weasel?” He asked, resolved to get the uncomfortable part of the interaction over with.
“Wea—Ron!” She glared at Draco, “do you have to be so nasty all the time? Or will your over-inflated ego not allow it?” She ground out defensively.
“Easy, Granger, just having a bit of fun at their expense,” he held his hands up in surrender. “I’m gonna say Weasley said something nasty, yeah?”
The girl just burst into tears all over again, dropping her head onto her crossed arms resting on the desk. She mumbled something incoherently through the sobs.
“Sorry, didn’t catch that?” He offered with an eye roll. Witches. So easily upset and downright touchy…
“I said,” her head popped up with narrowed eyes as though she’d heard his thoughts, “that Ronald thinks I let poor Crookshanks attack his stupid rat!” She spat the last words with venom.
“Alright then, but who’s Crookshanks?” Draco asked timidly.
“Oh, he’s my cat, well he’s half-Kneazle, very bright you know,” she perked up at her explanation of her loved familiar.
“Well how thick can Weasley get? It’s a cat, or half-cat, of course it’s gonna chase after a rat. What’s the idiot thinking?” Draco waved off the drama.
“Exactly what I said!” She smacked her hands on the table, earning a scowl from Madam Pince.
“Well now that you feel validated, d’you think you could help me with a little puzzle?” He inquired, dangling his pocket watch in her face to catch her attention.
“What sort of puzzle?” She responded cautiously, her interest piqued as she eyed the shiny pocket watch.
“What would you say if I told you I went back in time about twenty-two years, and came back an hour later?” Draco pulled the watch from in front of her face and held it in his palm, securely.
“I would say that’s not possible. Perhaps you were dreaming?” She offered with a teasing smirk of her own.
“I’m serious, Granger,” his face fell ever so slightly, “whatever happened in the Hospital Wing and now this? Somethings gone wonky with my time turner,” he whispered, looking around to make sure there were no eavesdroppers nearby. “I was getting in a quick Quidditch practice and went to turn it back an hour, and ended up in the Forbidden Forest in 1971–“
“Malfoy, that’s not possible. The most you can go back is four hours!” She countered angrily.
“Well I did, and not of my own accord, thank you!” He growled back.
“Let me see it,” she demanded, holding her open palm out, waiting. Draco unclutched the pocket watch, scrutinizing her face for any hint of deception, or inkling she might run straight to McGonagall or Croaker.
“Fine.” He sucked in a breath and gingerly laid the time turner in her palm, his fingers brushing hers as he pulled his hand away. The two teenagers avoided eye contact immediately and each was sporting a pair of rosy cheeks in response.
“Malfoy, have you had McGonagall or Snape, or even Dumbledore, inspect this for any other spells or enchantments? That would be my first g—“ she froze as she flipped the pocket watch over, the polished silver catching the dimmed light of the library torches and lanterns. “Why does it have a ‘B’ engraved on it?”
“What? No, I’ve inspected it hundreds of times, I think I would’ve noticed that,” he scoffed at her while simultaneously sliding around the table and leaning closer, until they were shoulder-to-shoulder. “Let me see.”
She handed him the pocket watch while maintaining their close proximity. “Just there,” she pointed as Draco tipped the watch back and forth trying to catch the engraving in the light.
When he finally saw it, he was shocked. He had certainly inspected the thing numerous times, laying in his bed and even in the Hospital Wing before he had ventured back to spy on Granger— no not spy, just checking in on her ! Clear as day, a large gothic scripted ‘B’ was engraved on the back of the pocket watch. The letter looked as though it had been tarnished, the crevices were a rusty reddish brown.
“Malfoy, is that—blood?” She gulped, looking down at his miraculously healed right arm, that now held only puckered pink scars.
“The time turner healed my arm? How is that even—“
“And what is the ‘B’ for? Was your blood payment for something? To go back further in time?” She quickly rambled through her musings aloud, Draco’s find following her logical path.
“B…blood…Granger do you know anything about blood magic?” He stopped her in her mental tracks.
“Blood magic? Like the Dark Arts?” She whispered nervously, fidgeting with the hem of her jumper.
“Not necessarily. Some blood magic can be for good things like setting familial wards around an ancestral home for example—for protection,” he offered with a shrug, hoping she would drop that line of thought. He knew blood magic wasn’t exactly an accepted artform in the modern Wizarding world, at least not in Britain anymore. His parents had both warned him to be wary of mentioning it to anyone at school who wasn’t already familiar with it—purebloods and Slytherins to be exact. Even pureblooded families outside of their Hogwarts house would know about it but had been taught the ‘danger and inherent evil’ of it, like the Weasley’s. Their family hadn’t used blood magic in generations due to the firm grasp the Ministry attempted to employ over it.
Since Granger seemed to be agreeing with his logic, he went on. “Would it be plausible that the time turner was triggered to go back farther in time to specified fixed points in a timeline based on blood magic—using my blood?”
She mulled the thought over in her quick-moving brain and gave him a short nod. “But why your blood? It’s not as if it were a Malfoy family heirloom,” she offered.
“No, but there’s a possibility it could be a Black family heirloom,” he whispered. As he said the words out loud, it felt right. Why else would it take me to see my mum?
“How would you be able to tell, and aren’t there hundreds of different Wizarding families that begin with B?” She paused, her brain catching up with her ears, “Wait, why would you be able to access Black family blood magic?” She asked the next burning question. Proof. I need proof .
“Keep using it, of course,” he winked cheekily, knowing she would hate that answer, “and my mother is a Black.” If he were one of her misfits up in Gryffindor tower, she’d have already snatched the thing from his hands and marched straight to McGonagall’s office with it.
“Like SiriusBlack?! You can’t do that! What if it’s dangerous?” She squealed in contempt.
“Well, Granger, then I hope I don’t die and you’ll be around to help me pick up the pieces,” he chuckled dryly, without even a hint of a smile. “Look, I don’t like the option either, but it brought me back safely once, why wouldn’t it do it again?”
“You didn’t answer me,” she accused sternly.
“Sirius Black is my mother’s cousin, they grew up together,” he stated. “Now drop it, Granger.”
Hermione sat fuming momentarily, but eventually let it go…for now. “What did you see?” She asked, changing the subject, running her fingers through her bushy hair, attempting and failing to seem uninterested.
“My mum, here at school, probably in her sixth year,” he said, watching her face for any sort of reaction. When she gave him none, he continued, “she was in the forest, helping to take care of Professor Lupin.”
At the last revelation she gasped, forgetting any lingering thoughts about Sirius Black and his familial ties to Draco. “Professor Lupin? What was she taking care of him for—and in the forest?”
Draco nodded, “he’s—well—Granger I’m only telling you this so that you can stay safe. I can tell Potter’s already got an affinity for the man, so here it is. He’s a werewolf.”
Granger shifted uncomfortably in her seat, not making eye contact again.
“You knew?!” He roared in astonishment, earning them a second and final warning from Madam Pince.
“Well, after I saw his Boggart in class, I had an idea, and then I looked at the moon phases chart from Astronomy and realized he must’ve ridden the train to Hogwarts with the students because the full moon was the night before and he’d been too weak to travel any other way—“ she rattled off, picking at her cuticles.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Draco gazed in confusion at the girl— woman?—witch— before him.
“It’s not my secret to tell, now is it?” She huffed back. “Besides, he hasn’t given any of us a reason to think badly of him, has he?” Her tone was sour with bitterness.
“Well don’t get snippy with me, Granger! Werewolves kill people— slaughter them! ” He growled. When she only stared back in indignation, Draco stood to leave. “Fine, do whatever, just don’t get yourself killed adopting another stray to take care of, alright?” He grabbed the few books he had found and threw them in his bag before storming off. He faintly heard her say “you too” as he turned the corner.
When Draco returned to his dormitory, his frustration had waned some, but it was replaced by a great deal of resentment and loathing when he found a note on his nightstand, written in a familiar, tight, sharp script.
Our meetings will resume Thursday evening this week and will go back to our agreed Tuesday evenings beginning next week.
-S. Snape
Great. Just fucking brilliant—another “class” just what I need. Draco grimaced and crawled into bed, ignoring the concerned looks from his friends. He fell asleep to the sound of his stream of consciousness rattling off the hundreds of tasks on his mile-long to-do list and replaying his most recent interaction with Granger on repeat.
…
The first Occlumency lesson of the year started off sufficiently better than Draco had expected. Snape used a light probing technique, and only inflicted a small, but manageable amount of pain. He supposed that was the best he could hope for from the Potions Master, given his testy moods since Professor Lupin had taken his post at the school. Draco resolved to practice for at least half an hour each day so as not to enrage the man any further.
The morning of Halloween, there was a cloud of excitement enveloping the entirety of the Great Hall at breakfast. While the first and second years were looking forward to the feast later that night, the third years were buzzing with the promise of their first Hogsmede trip later that morning, while the older students were chattering eagerly about who was going with who and their favorite spots.
Draco, Theo, Pansy, and Blaise had all agreed to go together, and to try to listen for any news of Sirius’s recent movements. Greg, Vince, and Millie would join them for a bit, and the entire Slytherin friend group agreed to meet at the Three Broomsticks for butterbeers later.
After changing into warmer jumpers, the boys met up with Pansy and the other girls at the Entrance Hall to be checked off on the list of attendees by Filch. The creepy caretaker took long, hard looks at every student as they passed through the doors, making sure no one was sneaking out who shouldn’t be going. Draco spotted Potter looking forlornly at the doors out of the castle while heading back up the marble staircase, and decided to have a go at him.
“Staying here, Potter?” He shouted. “Scared of passing the Dementors?” When the mopey Gryffindor didn’t respond, Draco shrugged and moved forward in line. He must really be bent out of shape if he won’t even fight back a little…
Once cleared to depart the castle, the little quartet broke apart from the rest of the group to toss around ideas of where to look for Sirius. They couldn’t come up with any solid plans, but since he had been sighted not too far from Hogsmede, they reckoned some of the shop owners would still be gossiping about it.
The little village was alight with glowing pumpkins and decorations for the holiday. It was so entrancing, the students spent half their time ogling the decor before moving inside the shops. Their first stop was at Dervish and Banges , the wizarding equipment shop, where they wandered no less than twenty minutes, thoroughly checking each shelf for something interesting. Draco and Blaise thought they struck gold when the owner and one of the clerks were discussing Sirius’s escape from Azkaban. But while their theories on how he did it were intriguing, they offered no real insights to his whereabouts.
The next store they entered was the much-anticipated Zonko’s Joke Shop . It was everything they had dreamed it to be, and more. Gizmos and gadgets were hovering around them, small controlled explosions popped every few minutes from a corner decorated in shades of red and black. After buying a few gags, Draco and Blaise had to practically drag Theo out by his ankles. Realizing it was nearly time to meet up with the rest of their Slytherin cohort, they ambled up the cobblestones toward the Three Broomsticks for foaming mugs of hot butterbeer.
As they passed varying storefronts, Pansy cooed, “Oh! Look at the post office, Draco!” as she spotted the shop front with about two hundred owls, all sitting on shelves, and all color-coded depending on how fast you want your letter to get to its destination. The organization was fascinating, but they stayed on course.
Draco paid for the first round once they arrived at The Three Broomsticks . The Slytherins grabbed a large, round table near the back of the pub, huddling in close. After three rounds of butterbeers, and several baskets of chips, the group split up again to hit their final stops before heading back to the castle for the Halloween feast. Draco, Blaise, Pansy, and Theo settled for stopping at Honeydukes as they had heard the shop had gotten a new kind of fudge and were giving out free samples. This time it was Pansy’s sweet tooth that held them hostage for an obnoxiously long time. After nearly buying out the sweet shop, the four Slytherins took their time walking back to the castle, daydreaming about what the feast would be like.
…
The Halloween feast was even more exuberant than they had imagined. The Great Hall had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats, and many flaming orange streamers, which were swimming lazily across the stormy ceiling like brilliant watersnakes. The food was delicious, even Pansy, who was full to bursting with Honeydukes sweets, managed second helpings of everything.
Draco couldn’t help but keep his eyes on the Gryffindors as she sat directly across from him. While he tried to focus on Granger and sending her an apologetic smile for the way he stormed off the other night, stinking Potter kept bobbing in front of his line of sight—routinely glancing at the staff table. Professor Lupin looked cheerful and as well as he ever did, talking animatedly to tiny little Professor Flitwick. Eventually, Potter moved his obvious attention along the table, to the place where Snape sat, glaring daggers at Lupin. It seemed someone outside of Slytherin had finally taken note of Snape’s disgust with the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.
As the feast wound down for the evening, they were all surprised with entertainment provided by the Hogwarts ghosts. The transparent bodies popped out of the walls and tables to do a bit of formation gliding. Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had a great success with a reenactment of his own botched beheading, and everyone got to witness the Bloody Baron shouting at Peeves just outside in the hall.
It had been such a pleasant day, that Draco’s good mood couldn’t be stifled, even when Potter and Weasley sneered at them as they elbowed past him and Pansy while filing out of the hall. It didn’t necessarily bother him so much, but he couldn’t just ignore their unnecessary roughness with Pansy. Attempting to shrug it off, he grabbed her hand and merely chuckled as he shouted in their direction, “The Dementors send their love, Potter!”
For the second time that day, the raven-haired git ignored Draco’s jibes and trotted off with the rest of his lion pride, and the platinum haired boy was glad for it. He didn’t necessarily want an altercation, especially after consuming so much food, but he’d be damned if he didn’t stand up for his friend. None of the Slytherin students spent much time in the commonroom that evening. As much as they enjoyed the day, everyone was exhausted and overly full. The boys bid the girls goodnight and flopped onto their respective beds.
“Hey, Vince, did’ya hear anything about Sirius Black while you were out at Hogsmede?” Blaise asked, and Draco gave a thankful smile for the boy helping to keep him on track with his many tasks.
“Well, not really, anytime someone mentioned ‘im, a big black shaggy dog would come trottin’ around and barkin’, sorry mate,” Vince said disappointedly while scratching at the back of his neck.
“Wait, didn’t your mum say—“ Theo began, but was quickly shushed by Draco’s death glare. “Uh, right, nevermind.”
“Oh well, thanks for trying, gents,” Draco said a bit too cheerily, before tucking in for bed.
Less than a minute later, the lights of their dormitory were flickering back on, and an announcement from Professor Snape’s somewhat giddy voice echoed through the entire House:
“All students are to report to the Great Hall, immediately!”