Written in the Stars - School Life

School life

Halloween 1991

Harry had been at Durmstrang now for a little under two months and had begun to feel like he was finally settling into life here, something not made so easy by the ever-changing tide of the school.

Nonetheless, he had more than sampled the studies available to him, other than those the first years were excluded from for various reasons, and he truly believed he had found those that he would thrive in.

The Dark Arts were indeed something he had a natural affinity for, as were Charms, Transfiguration, and Runic Studies, among others.

He found he cared little for Herbology, nor was he drawn to the Clairvoyancy classes that also required a natural affinity for them.

Harry was fascinated by the Study of Magical Mathematics. However, it was not something he thrived in despite giving his best effort during the lessons, and as many others had experienced during lessons he seemed to do well in, he was mostly ignored.

Still, it wouldn’t deter him from trying to learn.

“Keep going, Potter,” Olaffson instructed as he passed him for another lap of the Quidditch pitch.

Harry cursed under his breath.

Why the man had taken such an interest in him, he knew not, but Olaffson was either determined to make him the fittest, strongest person at Durmstrang, or kill him.

Harry couldn’t be certain which but didn’t like the enormous Icelandic very much.

The man was of few words, something that mattered little when all he was required to do was bark a simple instruction, and students were expected to comply.

Few enjoyed Fitness for Magic, and though Harry would like nothing more than to turn his wand on Olaffson from time to time, he was feeling the benefit of being under the man’s tutelage for an extra forty-five minutes a day.

“That will do,” Olaffson called. “Go shower.”

Harry hunched over and took a few deep breaths of the frozen air, wincing as it burned his lungs, and by the time he straightened up, Olaffson was gone.

“Maniac,” Harry muttered as he made his way back inside the school to take the man’s advice.

A hot shower was needed to help thaw him out.

His journey into the fitness regime had begun before the end of the first week when Olaffson had fetched him from the common room after dinner one evening and merely instructed him to follow.

From then on, it had been a nightly occurrence that Harry had been put through his paces, and with no satisfactory explanation as to why.

He’d asked but had received only a grunt in reply from the man, but Harry knew there was a reason behind what he was doing, even if it would not be revealed to him.

Shaking is head of thoughts that only served to frustrate him, he entered the common room and immediately moved to stand by the fire.

He frowned as Eleanor giggled at him.

“It’s not funny,” he muttered.

“Aww, poor Harry,” the girl cooed, shuffling to the other side of the sofa she was sitting on. “Come on, come take a seat.”

With a huff, Harry did so, only because his legs were aching.

He groaned as he sat, not from relief, but irritation as Summerbee whooped joyfully.

“I finally got him!”

She was dancing victoriously as Harry removed the inflatable piece of rubber from beneath his cushion.

Since the beginning of term, the girl had been trying to prank him, and had been unsuccessful until now.

“A whoopee cushion?” he asked disappointedly.

Summerbee grinned that mischievous grin that Harry had come to associate with her.

The girl was trouble personified, but she was kind also.

Not a day went by that she didn’t check on the rest of the group to make sure they were okay, and it wasn’t as though mischief was her only talent.

Eleanor Summerbee was already proving to be excellent in Charms and with Transfiguration, a proclivity she claimed to have inherited from her grandmother.

“Alright, you got me,” Harry conceded, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Does that mean it is someone else’s turn now?”

Summerbee nodded.

“I suppose it does,” she sighed. “I’ll miss trying to get you.”

“I won’t,” Harry snorted.

Eleanor pouted as her eyes roamed over the rest of the group before falling upon Cain.

“Thanks a lot, Potter,” the werewolf grumbled.

Harry had really come to like the boy.

Despite struggling with his condition the week leading up to the full moon, he was pleasant to be around, would often offer quips, and wasn’t without talent himself.

Unfortunately, the full moon was drawing closer, and though Harry felt useless to help his friend, Cain wasn’t left alone to cope.

The other werewolf students would look out for him during the difficult days, and ensure he was with them during their transformations in the dungeon reserved for them.

It helped Cain considerably having some of his own kind with him, and the camaraderie amongst the werewolves was strong.

Those that experienced Durmstrang on this side tended to look out for one another.

‘The others’ were what most purebloods referred to them as, and the less so flattering called them the ‘half-breeds.’ The older non-pureblood students adopted the moniker ‘The Misfits’, a name they affectionately gave to all that joined them each year.

Harry found the name to be apt.

He had always been something of a misfit, and here, he felt as though he was amongst people who were just as unique as him.

“He only does it because he likes you,” Steiner, an older werewolf student grunted.

Harry looked at the boy questioningly.

“Olaffson. He only makes those he takes a liking to do the extra exercises. He does it with some of the older students, usually the Quidditch players. You should think yourself lucky that you’re not Krum. He takes him twice a day.”

“Krum?” Harry asked.

“Viktor,” Steiner clarified. “He’s a fourth year and has just been signed to play for a professional team in Bulgaria. The rumour is that he will be the best seeker in the world in only a few years.”

Harry nodded appreciatively.

The first years had not been allowed near the Quidditch practices, or to even hold a broom yet, not until after Christmas when their flying lessons would commence.

“Twice a day?”

Steiner nodded.

“Viktor is always cursing the man but swears it has helped him considerably.”

Harry hummed thoughtfully.

Perhaps Steiner was right, or perhaps Olaffson truly wanted to break him.

That remained to be seen.

“Where’s Lucinda?” he asked.

“Gone for her evening lesson,” Jonas informed him.

The vampires of the school had additional lessons at night, something they did not divulge the contents of to the other students.

It wasn’t that they weren’t permitted to, but it was something of a personal study for them, so none pressed them for information.

“Ana?”

“Sleeping,” Eleanor sighed as she rested her head on Harry’s shoulder.

The girl was outwardly rather affectionate with everyone in the group, something Harry was still getting used to.

Ana did sleep more than the rest, particularly as the weather was becoming steadily worse as the winter months drew in.

“I think I will shower and do the same,” Harry decided as he stood.

Olaffson had tired him out.

“I’ll try not to wake you,” Cain called as Harry headed towards their room.

Harry waved the boy off.

For the most part, he didn’t snore so badly, but the nights before and after the full moon, it was quite unbearable.

Still, Harry did not wish for the boy to feel guilty for something he had no control over.

Evidently, it was a part of the disease he carried along with the horrific transformations and fatigue he often felt.

Harry wouldn’t wish the illness on any, especially a boy as kind as Cain.

Rubbing his temples in an attempt to stave off the headache that was setting in, he turned on the water in the shower before undressing, breathing a sigh of relief as the hot water began to cascade over him, though it only made his headache worse.

They had become more frequent since he’d arrived at Durmstrang, and if he did not keep up with his occlumency practice regularly, the dreams would return too, however, these were not always the same ones that had always plagued him.

Occasionally, there would be new ones; broken visions of a man he did not recognise seemingly talking to himself.

Harry could make no sense of them, but a throbbing headache always followed.

With a gasp, he pressed his palm into his scar as a wave of agony washed over him, but before he could reach for the tap to turn off the shower, he collapsed to his knees, his vision fading as a voice that was not is own filled his mind.

“The troll was a foolish idea.”

“I’m sorry, Master, I will be more considerate in the future.”

It was the man garbed in a purple turban again, though this time, he was without it, staring at his reflection in a hand mirror that Harry seemed to be peering the other side from.

“See that you do, Quirrell. Severus is suspicious of you.”

“Shall we not just reveal you to him, master? He could prove to be a useful ally.”

“NO!”

Harry swallowed deeply at the reply.

He knew that voice, and though this was not the most prominent nightmare that had haunted him, he would never forget it.

‘Stand aside, girl…’

The voice was laboured, lacking the same power and smugness behind the words, but Harry knew who it was that was speaking.

Voldemort.

“We must be in a position of strength when we bring Severus into the fold,” Voldemort explained.

“Yes, Master,” the other replied, bowing his head compliantly, and Harry found himself looking up at the ceiling of the room they were in.

“Good, now we must venture into the forest once more. I need sustenance.”

His view of the room began to fade, and the sound of rushing water filled his ears.

Opening his eyes, Harry found himself breathing heavily on the bathroom floor, the hot water of the shower hammering down on him.

With a groan, he pushed himself to his feet, his legs trembling as he pondered what it was he had witnessed, the vision already becoming disjointed and incoherent.

There had been a familiar voice, and one that he had only begun hearing recently.

Had there been mention of a troll?

Harry pushed his hair out of his eyes, frustrated that there was no clarity left of what he had seen, but he was pleased that his headache had eased off somewhat to something more bearable.

Until the next one, at least.

Releasing another deep breath, he finished cleaning himself up before switching off the shower and barely managing to prepare himself before he fell into bed, spent and no longer remembering even the vaguest detail of the dream he’d had only moments ago.

(Break)

Albus peered over his steepled fingers towards the dying fire in the hearth. The evening had been a disaster, and he was fortunate that no one had been severely injured.

Miss Granger and Mr Longbottom were no worse for wear other than a few cuts and bruises but had he and the other members of staff not arrived when they had, the consequences could have been dire.

“How is your leg, Severus?” he asked the wincing potions master.

The man grimaced as he poured a sizzling concoction over the wound.

“Sore,” he answered simply.

Albus offered the man a look of sympathy.

“Have we discovered why Miss Granger was not at the feast this evening?”

Minerva pursed her lips.

“She was upset by comments made to her by Mr Malfoy,” she explained. “The boy is a vile bully, Albus, and something must be done. I hear the Weasley twins are most displeased with him and his cohorts. If we do not nip this in the bud, it will develop into a very unpleasant situation. Why are the older Slytherins not keeping him in line?”

“Because they do not wish to provoke the ire of Lucius,” Severus answered. “Many of the parents are either indebted to the man, or in no position to stand up to him.”

Minerva shook her head.

“So, Draco will continue getting away with his behaviour?” she murmured unhappily. “I’ve had him in detention several times already, but it does nothing to deter him.”

“I will speak with him, for all the good it will do,” Severus assured her. “The boy believes he is untouchable, and in many ways, he is. There are few willing to stand up to him, and those that are will only make life difficult for themselves and their parents.”

Albus frowned unhappily.

He could see the already mounting tension devolving into something deeply unpleasant if Draco did not curb his behaviour.

Much like the years during Gellert’s rise had been before Arcturus Black and Charlus Potter had brokered a peace, of sorts.

Would Harry be able to do the same if he were here?

Albus shook his head of the thoughts.

Harry was not here, and the headmaster knew next to nothing about the boy other than what Gellert chose to share with him.

His frown deepened as he pondered the boy.

Quirinus was displaying some very concerning behaviour from merely sharing his body with whatever essence of Tom had found him.

Albus knew he was playing a dangerous game, but any approach where his former student was concerned was dangerous.

This way, he could at least monitor what remained of the Dark Lord, though he was beginning to question his approach in dealing with the threat.

Quirinus himself was not an ungifted wizard and playing host to perhaps the most dangerous wizard Britain had produced in centuries would only bolster his already impressive ability.

No, Albus knew he must tread carefully from here on out and add to the already significant protections around the stone.

He nodded to himself as an idea began to form.

It would be a difficult feat of magic to achieve indeed, but if he managed it, the stone would be safe from the Dark Lord, though Albus knew it was inevitable that Tom would one day return.

For now, he merely needed to delay it until Harry was ready to face his destiny.

“I would suggest that we keep Miss Granger away from Mr Malfoy as best we can,” he sighed. “Severus, I am relying on you to speak with the boy. Remind him that bullying is not tolerated here at Hogwarts, and any further incidents will incur severe punishments.”

Severus offered him a bow as he stood.

“As you wish, headmaster,” he replied.

“Minerva, do keep an eye on Miss Granger, assure her that you are at her disposal if she needs any support. I will speak with her and Mr Longbottom in the morning.”

Minerva nodded before taking her leave of the office.

“What of Quirrell?” Severus asked. “I did not expect something like this from him.”

“I did not anticipate something so brazen,” Albus sighed, “and I can assume that his attempts will only become more desperate in the coming months. I will secure the stone, Severus, and find a way that I can confront the man in a way that would not see the students harmed.”

“Is he not enough of a danger to them now?”

Albus shook his head.

“So long as he believes the stone is still available to him, he will continue to bide his time, and I will use that to my advantage.”

Severus did not appear to be pleased by Albus’s intentions.

“Very well,” he murmured before following in Minerva’s wake, leaving the headmaster to his thoughts which inevitably drifted to the boy who already carried a seemingly insurmountable burden on his shoulders.

If Quirinus was beginning to display such reckless behaviour and traits of the Dark Lord, how much was the horcrux within Harry truly affecting him?

It was a pertinent question, and one that would only become more burning as the years went by.

Albus needed to meet Harry, to see the character of the boy for himself, but until then, he would be relying on Gellert to share what information about him he chose to.

(Break)

“And sixth brick from the left,” Harry whispered, tapping the wall with his wand from beneath his cloak, taking a step back as an opening just small enough for a person to pass through appeared.

Entering the hidden room, he smiled to himself.

Within was a large enough space for him to practice just about any type of magic he wished in privacy, or he could simply use the room as a getaway if he needed to.

Whoever it was that had provided Cassiopeia with the list that she had passed on had undoubtedly spent many years uncovering the secrets Durmstrang had.

From shortcuts that would reduce his journey time around the school significantly, to hidden rooms like this one, and even another that contained personal notes in the same writing scribbled on the scroll, Harry had been introduced to a veritable treasure trove he could take advantage of whilst he was here.

Retreating from the room, he sealed it behind him before making his way back towards the common room.

It wasn’t as he easy as he wished to sneak off to explore, not even in the dead of night with Lucinda and the other vampires awake, but he usually managed a little time to himself after Olaffson had released him for the night.

Stowing his cloak back within his robe, he entered the common room to find that most had gone to bed by now, and when he checked his watch, he realised how long he had been away for tonight.

Only the vampires remained, and Lucinda quirked an eyebrow at him as he approached.

“Been somewhere nice?” she asked.

“Just walking after my work with Olaffson.”

Lucinda hummed.

The girl was quite standoffish in nature, but Harry suspected that was due to not spending any significant time around others for much of her life; not of her own kind, at least.

Still, he liked to think she was warming up to him.

She had a dry sense of humour that he appreciated and was rather protective of him and the others they shared classes with.

Even if she could be rather cold at times, Harry found that he liked the girl.

“Do you ever sleep?” he asked curiously.

Lucinda shrugged.

“Not often,” she answered. “I don’t need to, but it is nice sometimes.”

“Another weakness of being human,” Harry snorted.

Lucinda grinned.

“I could always turn you,” she quipped.

Harry released a dramatic sigh in response.

“I don’t think my aunt would like that very much.”

“Shame,” Lucinda replied with a smirk. “You’d make a good vampire, and then we could live together forever.”

Harry smiled at the girl.

“That sounds like the beginning of a story where we try to take over the world, and both end up dead.”

“It does,” Lucinda agreed, eliciting a chuckle from Harry.

“Is that why you don’t let anyone close to you?” he asked gently, “because we will all die one day and you will still be here.”

Lucinda narrowed her eyes at him.

“Don’t ask questions you won’t like the answer to, Harry.”

“That’s it though, isn’t it?”

The girl swallowed deeply before nodding.

“If you tell any of the others, I will bite you,” she warned, “and it won’t be to turn you.”

Harry winced at the thought as her gaze burned into his before he stood and wrapped an arm around her.

Her skin was cold to the touch, but that didn’t deter him from kissing her on the cheek, causing the girl to shudder.

“I won’t say anything,” he promised, “but that doesn’t mean I will let you push me away. Just because you’ll outlive me, it doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t be friends, does it?”

Lucinda shook her head uncertainly.

“Good,” Harry declared as he stood, “but as a human, I do need to get some kind of sleep.”

Lucinda grinned, exposing her fangs.

“Pathetic. Give in to your weakness if you must,” she said dismissively.

“Thank you, oh merciful dark princess,” Harry returned with a bow.

“Never call me princess again!” Lucinda growled.

Harry merely smiled at her once more before walking towards the room he shared with the other boys.

“I mean it, Potter!” Lucinda called after him.

Harry only waved in response, laughing as he heard the girl cursing him.

(Break)

Pansy knew that her father was coveting the idea of an eventual marriage contract with Draco. It wasn’t something she had been against entirely, but her mind had quickly been changed since starting Hogwarts.

She had known Draco had an ego, that his opinion of himself would never be matched by anyone else, but she hadn’t known just how cruel, malicious, and deeply unpleasant he could be towards others.

Not that she had observed him much during the years before school.

She had met the boy on a number of occasions; at functions or when her father and Lord Malfoy conducted business but seeing him for what he truly was away from the forced politeness and bows of respect he offered other lords, Pansy dreaded a contract being brokered between them.

It wasn’t just how he treated those that he deemed to be inferior like the Granger girl, but it was those who he seemingly considered friends that were often the butt of his cruel whims.

Crabbe and Goyle both came from considerably lesser families than most, but they were purebloods nonetheless, and Draco treated them no better than house elves.

Of course, they were rather dim and slow-witted, which to Pansy only made their treatment worse.

Even Theo wouldn’t stand up to the blonde, and Draco was wary enough of Blaise and his family reputation to not push his luck, not yet at least.

Millicent did her best to blend into the background whenever Draco was around, and the only other in their year was Daphne Greengrass who Draco had not yet gotten around to attempting to torment.

Pansy did not believe that would end well for the boy.

The girl had often vocalised her wish for him to try so that she could put him in his place.

Perhaps that was what he needed?

Draco had no one to stand up to him for the things he done.

The Weasley twins had tried, only for Snape to have them both in detention for weeks at a time.

Admittedly, they may have crossed a line by trying to flush Draco down Moaning Myrtle’s toilet, but Pansy could not think of any reason the boy didn’t deserve it.

She shook her head as she looked over her transfiguration homework.

Once more, Draco was holding court, throwing his weight around even with the older Slytherins that did not wish to invoke the boys’ ire.

“Have you seen how useless he is?” Draco guffawed. “How is Longbottom even here? He’s no better than the squib caretaker.”

The others laughed forcefully at the unfunny observation.

“And Granger, if her teeth were any bigger, I’m sure the Ministry would be taking her away to make sure she is actually human.”

Pansy met Daphne’s eyes, and the other girl snorted.

“What about Weasley?” Crabbe asked.

“Blood-traitors, all of them,” Draco declared smugly. “They’re an embarrassment to purebloods. Honestly, Hogwarts really has scraped the bottom of the cauldron for the dregs that are here this year.”

Pansy tried to ignore the blonde as she began penning a letter to Harry, using her transfiguration text to hide what she was doing.

More than ever, she wished her friend had decided to come to Hogwarts.

Draco certainly wouldn’t be acting as he was with someone like Harry around.

(Break)

Breakfast was always a lively at Durmstrang, partly because it was the best meal of the day here, and because the mail was delivered, something that all students, irrespective of their status within the school looked forward to.

It was delivered by a post office in Austria, the climate much too cold for most owls or any other creatures to endure.

Callidora had needed to rest for a few days after she had arrived with Harry’s scroll, and he had sent a return note to Cassie advising not to send her again.

“Potter,” the postmaster called, dropping a single envelope in front of him.

Harry recognised the scrawl immediately as Pansy’s.

She wrote often, telling him of how much she was enjoying Hogwarts, and lamenting on the fact that he had chosen to come to Durmstrang.

The girl was hoping that he would change his mind, something that wouldn’t be happening.

Despite how difficult it could be at times, Harry liked it here.

“Who’s the letter from, Harry?” Cain asked.

Harry did not answer immediately, choosing to read the missive before doing so.

Dear Harry,

I hope this finds you well.

Hogwarts was attacked by a troll a few days ago!

No one knows how it got into the castle, but Professor Dumbledore dealt with it.

No one was seriously hurt, but I wonder how it got here. Trolls do not live in the Forbidden Forest.

Anyway, Draco is worse than ever.

If someone doesn’t do something soon, he will really hurt someone.

A girl almost got killed by the troll because she was hiding in the toilet after he was mean to her.

Write back soon,

Pansy x

Harry’s frown had deepened the more he read the letter, the mention of a troll triggering a very vague memory he had when he’d been plagued with a headache on Halloween.

Pansy had already mentioned the Malfoy boy, a family that Cassiopeia had already warned him about.

Lucius had been a Death Eater, and Harry had no doubt that he and the man would come to blows in the future, especially when the fool discovered his precious son wasn’t the Black heir as he believed.

“Harry, are you okay?” Ana asked. “You look as though you’re going to kill someone.”

Harry waved the girl off as he smiled.

“I’m fine,” he assured her. “It’s just a note from my personal healer informing that I’ve not caught any diseases from hanging around the likes of you.”

Ana raised an eyebrow in his direction and Lucinda aimed a kick at him under the table as he chuckled.

“Is that possible?” Cain asked worriedly.

“Well, unless you bite me when you’re transformed, I don’t think so,” Harry replied thoughtfully, “but then again, I suppose you could give me a nasty case of fleas.”

“I don’t have fleas!” Cain retorted heatedly.

“He’s just winding you up,” Lucinda huffed.

Harry smiled innocently, though it fell as he spotted one of the third-year purebloods approaching one of the tables he did not belong at.

“What’s he doing?” he asked.

“He’s going after Steiner,” Cain murmured, his gaze shifting to his plate to avoid drawing attention to himself.

“Why?”

“Because Barkus hates us, and he’s decided it’s Steiner’s turn.”

Harry’s nostrils flared as he watched the pureblood attempting to goad Steiner by pushing his plate of food to the floor, his eyes trailing towards the staff who were choosing to ignore the incident.

“Harry, don’t!” Lucinda warned as he stood.

He pushed the hand that had gripped his jacket away and made his way towards the werewolf who was offering no resistance.

“Steiner!” Harry greeted him enthusiastically. “How are you today?”

He pointedly ignored Barkus, and Steiner looked at him questioningly, almost pleading him to move along.

“Can’t you see that Steiner is busy?” Barkus growled. “He has a mess to clean up.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Harry replied politely. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Jean Barkus,” the boy clarified, standing at his full height.

“What kind of name is Arse-kiss?” Harry asked confusedly, eliciting a bout of laughter from the students nearby.

The boy flushed in a mix of embarrassment and anger.

“It’s Barkus!” he correct hotly.

“I got it right the first time,” Harry said dismissively. “Now, why don’t you go back to your own table, there’s a lot of dangerous beasts over here.”

“Filthy half-breeds,” Barkus sneered.

Harry hummed as he nodded.

“Maybe,” he returned, “but we really don’t want this situation to become more unpleasant than it already is, do we?”

Barkus narrowed his eyes at Harry.

“Are you threatening me?” he questioned.

“I think I might be, Arse-kiss,” Harry confirmed as he turned to face the boy. “I asked you nicely, now you’re starting to annoy me. Piss off before I really lose my temper with you.”

His tone had become cold and Barkus hesitated before his hand twitched towards his wand.

Harry did not, and he reached his first, sending the older boy sprawling across the stone floor where he began gasping for breath.

“POTTER!” Karkaroff shouted warningly.

Harry’s eyes remained on Barkus as he returned his wand up his sleeve.

“Self-defence, Headmaster,” he replied. “Barkus just didn’t manage to draw his wand in time.”

The slightest of grins tugged at Karkaroff’s lips as he nodded.

“Return to your seat,” he instructed. “You too, Barkus. Anymore incidents like this, and I will have you both running laps with Professor Olafsson until you pass out, understood?”

The large Icelandic man positively beamed at the thought, and Harry nodded.

“Understood, Headmaster,” Harry responded, offering the man a bow before returning to his seat.

“There’ll be trouble,” Lucinda chastised. “Barkus won’t let it slide.”

Harry shrugged carelessly as he helped himself to some eggs.

“There will be trouble for him if he doesn’t,” he murmured.

Lucinda merely shook her head, and the rest of the group stared at him questioningly.

“You know, Potter, I do wonder if you’re all there at times,” Jonas chuckled.

Harry said nothing as he pondered just why he had gotten so angry.

He despised bullies, but it was an everyday occurrence at Durmstrang.

Maybe he was just tired, or he had grown tired of how some of those he considered his friends were being treated.

People like Barkus made him sick.

His thoughts drifted to the letter that Pansy had sent, and he nodded to himself before sending a reply.

She had her own Barkus to deal with, and though Draco had not attempted to pick on her, there was no telling what the boy would do if he was left unchecked.

He may not be a Hogwarts student, but that didn’t mean he was helpless in the matter, and as he finished up writing his note, he took his leave of the breakfast table to fetch something to include with it when he sent it back, a mischievous grin cresting his lips.

(Break)

It had taken a little less than a week for Harry’s reply to arrive, though it wasn’t the letter itself that had occupied Pansy’s mind since. The boy had sent a small pouch of white powder, his only reference to it being;

‘If Draco wants to act like an ass, maybe he should become one for a while.’

Pansy had almost thrown the stuff away, but had held onto it, and had considered sending it anonymously to the Weasley twins but had decided against doing so.

No, if it was going to be used, she would have to do it herself.

The thought of doing so left her feeling uneasy, but the longer she possessed the powder, and the more unbearable Draco became, the harder it was to resist.

The blonde’s bullying was only becoming worse with each day that passed.

Only the previous day, he, along with Crabbe, Goyle, and Theo, had attempted to push Longbottom down the third-floor stairs.

McGonagall had been furious, but with Longbottom refusing to tell her who had done it, there was nothing the woman could do, even if she knew who had been behind the incident.

For Pansy, that had been the final straw.

She didn’t like Longbottom, nor the Granger girl he spent time with, but their lives shouldn’t be made miserable by Draco and his ilk.

What would Harry do?

That was the question she had asked herself, and immediately, her thoughts had drifted to the powder he had sent.

Pansy’s mind had been made up, and though she was not relishing her decision, something had to be done to humble Draco.

It was for the good of everyone, after all.

She had arrived at breakfast with the other girls in her house and was relieved that they were engaged in a conversation about their potions homework.

Tracey and Daphne were helping Millicent, who was not the most confident in the subject, and whilst they were not paying attention to her, Pansy added the powder to the goblet Draco always drank from.

Crabbe and Goyle would flank him either side, and Theo would sit on the left of the latter.

Slipping him the powder had been too easy.

The boys arrived only a few minutes later, and Pany felt both relieved and filled with trepidation when Draco took the expected seat, complaining about the fare on offer at the castle.

“We have fresh fruit available for breakfast at home,” he informed the others.

“There’s fruit,” Theo pointed out, holding up an apple and banana.

Draco scoffed.

“We have better ones.”

Theo rolled his eyes at the boy and Pansy busied herself by buttering some toast, her gaze shifting to the blonde from time to time.

After what seemed like an eternity filled with nervousness, he eventually took hold of his goblet and drained it, grimacing slightly at the taste.

“The pumpkin juice tastes worse than usual,” he muttered.

Pansy did her best not to stare at Draco and took a bite of her own food.

She had slathered it with butter, but the bread felt dry in her mouth.

“Tastes fine to me,” Goyle shrugged before he drained his own drink.

It was then that Pansy knew her efforts had been successful and that Harry had once more proven his proclivity towards causing trouble.

Draco attempted to reply to the boy, only for a loud braying sound to escape him.

His eyes widened in horror as a large pair of ears grew from the top of his head, and the lower part of his face began to elongate.

He brayed once more as he shot to his feet, only to trip and find himself sprawled on the floor.

The reason for him losing his footing quickly became clear.

Draco no longer had feet.

Hooves had formed, and Pansy began to feel guilty as fur began to sprout all over the boy.

Crabbe and Goyle, the ever-devoted fools, attempted to help the boy from the floor as the shock of the students wore off, and the hall filled with laughter.

Even those at the Slytherin table joined in, only serving to annoy Draco whose braying became louder and more frantic.

“SILENCE!” Dumbledore called loudly as he stepped off the dais and approached Draco with his wand drawn.

The headmaster attempted to undo the transfiguration, to no avail.

“Oh dear,” he murmured. “Filius, could you assist Mr Draco in reaching the Hospital Wing?”

The diminutive professor nodded, though it was clear he was trying to hide his own amusement at the situation, and Professor Dumbledore’s attention immediately shifted towards the Weasley twins.

“I will deal with them!” McGonagall declared as she stalked towards the redheads.

“Wait, this didn’t have anything to do with us,” one of them protested.

“We swear,” the other added.

“We will see about that. My office, now,” McGonagall growled.

“Professor, I think you might have gotten this wrong,” the older Weasley brother interjected. “Fred and George have not been near the Slytherin table, and they didn’t leave the common room last night after they returned from their detention with Mr Filch.”

“You’re certain of this?”

The Weasley boy nodded and McGonagall hummed.

“Very well, I will give you the benefit of the doubt this time,” she conceded before returning to the staff table, and Pansy breathed a sigh of relief.

She didn’t want to get anyone else in trouble.

“But whoever did it,” one of the twins called, “we would really appreciate you telling us how.”

“Send us a note, we won’t say anything.”

“We promise” they finished together, each sporting an innocent smile that none would be convinced by.

With Draco having been helped from the hall, Pansy returned to her breakfast feeling rather pleased for herself, though she hoped her father would forget any notion he had of seeing her married to him.

Draco may grow to be handsome, but the tendencies he displayed were already concerning, and Pansy could only imagine the kind of monster he could become if he was allowed to continue doing what he was.