The endless two-hour session with Binns had finally come to an end. While Agnes, Tobias, and Theo were only half-awake, yawning and dazed, I was completely alert thanks to my under-the-desk training. Draco, however, didn't wait for anyone. He burst out of the classroom, flanked by Goyle and Crabbe, as if the devil himself were at his heels. But I knew exactly who he was after. That girl he supposedly "hated," of course. It was a strange, almost nonsensical obsession, but for now, I let it slide.
My companions followed me sluggishly into the second-floor corridor, where a scene straight out of a cheap movie awaited us. It was the classic setup: Gryffindor on one side, Slytherin on the other. Granger versus Malfoy. For now, it was only verbal, not magical. And as long as Weasley was missing, fortunately, not physical either...
"Did you make sure to write down every single cough Binns let out again, Granger?" Draco drawled mockingly. Crabbe and Goyle guffawed appreciatively behind him, as if they had just heard the greatest joke of the century. "I'm truly fascinated by your need to be the best in a subject that is utterly useless."
Granger shot him a look that suggested she would like nothing more than to impale him on the spot. Her eyes flashed with anger, though her voice trembled slightly when she replied.
"If you paid attention even half the time you spend admiring your own cuffs, Malfoy, you might know that the Goblin Rebellions of 1612 will be a key topic on the end-of-term exam. But I suppose," she added with a childish yet sharp dose of contempt, "that you're counting on your father to arrange your success, just as he buys your influence everywhere else."
Draco froze for a moment, a dangerous glint appearing in his eyes. I knew he was about to use her heritage as the ultimate insult. Granger had cut deep with the remark about his father; she had a talent for that.
"Watch your mouth, you filthy little Mudblood," he hissed at her with pure hatred.
Exactly as I thought, I mused boredly. The reactions around them were predictable—the Slytherins were initially amused, while the Gryffindors were fuming. Now, however, our lot looked more bored, while the opposing side was boiling over with rage.
"Or what?!" Granger yelled at him. Her knuckles turned white, and she looked as though she had a desperate urge to hit him. "You're just jealous, Malfoy, that I have talent while you only have a name!"
It looked as though Draco was about to lung at her, so I finally decided to intervene. He was my cousin, after all, and even if he was making a fool of himself, I cared about him a little. I stepped between them. Nearby, Agnes and Theo proactively drew their wands—expecting a conflict—but I simply gave a firm command: "That's enough!"
Draco's jaw snapped shut audibly. Granger looked ready to continue, but my sharp gaze made her reconsider. Potter, standing beside her, watched me curiously, while the others waited tensely to see what would happen.
"You don't need talent for History of Magic, Granger. All it takes is memorizing insignificant, irrelevant, and distorted information," I said matter-of-factly, though a hint of disdain touched my voice. Immediately after, I turned to Draco. "We're going to lunch," I commanded.
Draco merely nodded obediently. I had no intention of lecturing him in the hallway and providing live entertainment for two houses.
Our entire group headed for the Great Hall, followed by Crabbe and Goyle, who trailed behind Draco. Behind us, we could hear the whispers of the others and the occasional mocking laugh. Draco walked beside me, his face pale and his knuckles clenched, but his head was bowed like a beaten dog. After a moment, he spoke in a low, shaky voice:
"She knows nothing about me, Patrik. Or about my father."
I certainly wasn't in the mood to deal with this drama, but I knew it was better to do it sooner rather than later. Before I could reply, however, Theo chimed in:
"She only knows what people say, Draco. I assume you started insulting her first, as usual, and then lost your nerve when she brought up your father," he finished with a snort.
By then, we were almost at the entrance, so I stopped them both firmly.
"We'll discuss this later in the Room. We don't need to put on a show for the others."
We entered the Great Hall. Thousands of candles floated above the four long tables, and the air was filled with a diverse array of aromas from the prepared food. My mouth immediately began to water; I was in the mood for some proper roast chicken. We arrived among the first, so we were greeted by relative silence.
We sat down at our table and began to serve ourselves. I went for roast chicken with rice and vegetables, and Draco followed suit a moment later. But while I tucked into the food with gusto, he just poked at it aimlessly with his fork. The others were still too drowsy to care about anything, so everyone ate in silence at their own pace. No one commented on my table manners either—I used a spoon for the rice and my hands to tear chunks of meat from the bone without a napkin.
The Great Hall gradually filled up, and our Slytherin table was nearly full. Occasionally, I caught snippets of conversation, but Flint was the loudest, having to raise his voice to be heard over the din.
"We have to prepare hard! The Weasleys were seen in the castle this morning. Apparently, they've lost weight and were exhausted, so we'll have an advantage, but I don't intend to underestimate anything!" he barked harshly. "Whoever screws up will pay for it!"
"So Granger and Potter have their third member back," Agnes noted matter-of-factly.
I didn't comment. I was enjoying my meal, and Potter and Granger were certainly not my priority. Theo, however, nodded.
"Yes. Do you think Potter will go back to his old ways? His diligence in Potions is annoying."
"Who knows... Now that the redhead is back, maybe?" Agnes suggested.
Before they could continue the conversation, a flock of owls flew into the hall with the Daily Prophet. I could recognize them without trouble by now. It didn't take long before almost everyone held their copy. Of course, the front page was dominated by a photograph of Hagrid's burning hut.
The whole of Hogwarts knew about the dragon Hagrid had hatched in his wooden shack. It had grown to such a size that it eventually burned his entire house down. Fortunately, not only the dragon and Hagrid but also his dog, Fang, escaped the flames. Before the professors or older students could arrive to extinguish the fire, the hut had burned to the ground.
We had no further official information, but it was whispered that the dragon had been moved to a reservation nearby. As for Hagrid, he remained the groundskeeper and was currently living in the castle, though he was already slowly building a new hut—by hand and on a larger scale. It turned out Hagrid was exceptionally wealthy, so he made sure to use high-quality materials. As for any punishment from Dumbledore... that was uncertain, but I would bet he received no penalty at all. The Ministry might be the only problem, but I believed Dumbledore's power reached very far this year.
I finished the rest of my chicken at a leisurely pace and started reading.
SCANDAL AT HOGWARTS: SCHOOL GROUNDSKEEPER NEARLY BURNS STUDENTS ALIVE!
Author: Rita Skeeter
While parents trustingly send their children to school, things are happening in the shadow of the castle that make one's blood run cold. Last week, Hogwarts School turned into a fire trap. The home of the local groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, burned to the ground.
Official sources remain silent, but my sources speak clearly: this was no accident with a knocked-over lamp. According to eyewitnesses, Hagrid was secretly keeping a dragon in his wooden shack. Yes, you heard correctly. A bloodthirsty monster right under your children's windows!
"It was insane," one student, who wished to remain anonymous, told us. "There was smoke everywhere, and the smell of sulfur was unbearable. We all know Hagrid isn't quite right and loves dangerous creatures, but this is too much even for him."
How is it possible that Headmaster Albus Dumbledore allowed such a thing? Is he gambling with students' lives because of his excessive fondness for a half-giant who has already been expelled from the school once? A few more seconds and the dragon could have attacked the school instead of the shack...
Naturally, Rita had inflated the whole situation as usual. The dragon had been small, and Hagrid had likely just been careless; something caught fire, and by the time he noticed, it was too late. What was more interesting, however, was how the situation had changed when Potter and Granger started studying more. Perhaps they hadn't visited Hagrid at all? The missing link, Ron Weasley, clearly meant a lot. They lacked his contact with his brother at the dragon sanctuary, and if they were spending more time in books than originally... it reflected like this.
Hmm, it wasn't my business. Everyone had finished eating except for Draco, who was still just picking at his plate.
"We can go if you're all finished, boys," I said.
"Ahem, ahem," Agnes coughed pointedly.
"And lady, of course," I added, theatrically rolling my eyes at my friends' smirks.
I started to get up from the table, and the others immediately joined me. After a moment, Draco stood up as well, dropped his fork with a clatter, and followed us. He didn't forget to tell Crabbe and Goyle that he would see them later.
It didn't take long, and though the stairs changed our path once, we found ourselves on the seventh floor. In my mind, I quickly visualized our traditional room: tables and chairs for studying, a black marble fireplace, and the rest of the equipment. Without hesitation, we all sat down. It was already a habit—homework first, then conversation, and finally training and duels. Draco, however, sat dejectedly, and the others watched us curiously and expectantly. Theo mockingly put his feet up on the table, and Agnes pulled out her Transfiguration textbook, though she was also waiting. Only Tobias looked as if he didn't care.
"So," Theo began, breaking the silence with a smile, "are we going to address the fact that Draco looks like someone just ate his last Chocolate Frog?"
I nodded and began to speak matter-of-factly: "You know, Draco, I don't understand why you have such a huge fascination with Granger... But if you bring up her blood, half of Hogwarts will automatically hate you and the other half will be bored, because realistically, very few people care about heritage."
"I don't have a fascination with Granger!" he blurted out defensively.
"Really?" Theo laughed.
"You seek out conflicts and arguments only with her, Draco. You ignore the other Muggle-borns," Agnes added with a smile.
Draco stared at them dumbly, so I continued: "As you can see, the others have noticed it too." I paused for a moment, searching for the right words, and when he was about to start defending himself, I raised my hand. "Honestly, I don't care if you love her or hate her. The problem is that with one insult, you're creating unnecessary enemies. And you bring up your father far too often. As I said, when you insult people as 'Mudbloods,' you turn a large part of Hogwarts against you, even if they would normally agree with you."
"What do you mean?"
"Simply... Granger is a teacher's pet and has to be right every single time. Her behavior bothers many people, even those in her own house. They would agree with you, but that insult of yours is brutally problematic." I paused for a second and added: "You shouldn't attack her blood. You should definitely be more creative. After the first time, she's surely armored herself against that word..."
"So how should I insult her then?"
I shook my head in disapproval: "You shouldn't insult her at all. What for? You get nothing out of it. As you can see, it hasn't even brought you a good feeling."
Draco no longer looked like a beaten dog, but rather encouraged; a light shone in his eyes as he tried to find new ammunition for the next argument.
"But I'm interested too," Theo laughed. "How would you insult her, Patrik?"
Of course, they were still kids, and for them, this was the height of entertainment—ordinary student bullying. For me, it was a bit annoying. I had never bullied anyone; I always had enough problems of my own to notice others. If Draco wasn't going to stop, he might as well not embarrass himself. While he was my cousin, I couldn't care less about Granger.
"Insult her teeth, for example. She has them like an otter... she's a girl, that will hit her immediately," I suggested with a shrug. "Or insult her intelligence, that's what she prides herself on most. Compare her to a parrot that learns everything by heart but doesn't actually understand anything..."
Silence fell over the room for a moment while Draco processed my words. I saw memories of the argument after History of Magic "flashing" through his mind as he tried to fit in the new weapons.
Agnes smirked and looked down at her textbook. "Parrot... that fits. The other day in Transfiguration, she quoted chapter three word for word."
After a moment, Draco straightened up with determination and, above all, a combative spirit. I was actually starting to feel a bit embarrassed that I was giving them advice on insults. While I saw the danger lurking outside, they were dealing with school squabbles... It was a huge waste of time and energy.
"But it's pointless to argue and insult her, Draco. You get nothing out of it anyway," I added matter-of-factly.
He just shrugged; he was as stubborn as a mule. What if he actually was in love with her? I decided not to deal with it and moved on to a more important topic.
"Also, regarding your father," I got to the point, and Draco looked at me with dilated pupils. "Since the beginning of the year, you've mentioned him so many times that the whole of Hogwarts knows you as Draco 'I'll tell my father' Malfoy. They're seriously making fun of you..."
"But my father is a wealthy and respected, powerful wizard!" he blurted out defensively.
"Yes, respected at the Ministry, perhaps," I nodded in agreement. "But we are at Hogwarts. The students have never seen your father, they don't care about him, and they're dealing with other problems... Your father certainly wouldn't deal with Granger insulting you. He has his own business matters and won't waste time on nonsensical conflicts. The older years understand this; they have their own worries with OWLs or NEWTs and don't care about first years. And the others just laugh that you run to your father with every problem."
Draco looked as if I had just punched him in the stomach. Theo quietly cleared his throat and decided to intensely examine his fingernails instead, while Agnes watched his reaction with amusement.
"That... that's not true," Draco stammered after a moment, but his voice lacked any certainty. "My father has influence, he..."
"Your father isn't here, Draco," Theo interrupted unusually seriously, then looked at me. "Patrik is right. If you want respect, you have to build it yourself. By threatening people with your father, you only build ridicule and contempt, not respect."
"If you repeat a threat non-stop, it loses its effectiveness," I added coldly. "It will just become more background noise—in one ear and straight out the other."
Draco was visibly in shock. We had laboriously stripped off his rose-tinted glasses, and Agnes amusingly decided to double down: "So, Draco... what's left of a Malfoy when we take away his father's name?"
There was a brief silence as we watched him curiously. His hands trembled slightly, but after a moment, he clenched them into fists and asked determinedly: "What should I do then?"
"What do you mean, what should you do?" I asked amusedly. "Don't do anything special. Just be yourself. Study, learn, fight, train... Don't bring up your father at all; you're capable enough on your own. And don't insult people's blood. Everyone has something about them that can be insulted much more effectively than just blood, which doesn't matter anyway."
"Fine, fine, Draco surely understands," Agnes spoke up impatiently. "Can we finally get to the duels?"
"You can, yes. I'm going to send a message," I replied, considering our serious conversation finished. I pulled a clean piece of parchment, a quill, ink, and an envelope from my bag.
I ignored their bickering and began to write:
Dear Madam Bones,
I have noticed certain peculiarities in the books of Gilderoy Lockhart. According to available reports from the areas he writes about, the dates of his heroic deeds overlap several times. It seems as if he were in multiple places at once, which is suspicious, to say the least.
Those rescue missions undoubtedly happened, but what is concerning is that the direct participants, under strange circumstances, remember nothing. Lockhart thus claims their credit, which, from an objective perspective, does not add up.
I may be wrong, of course, but something doesn't feel right here. You mentioned that I might make a capable Auror, and my intuition tells me that Lockhart may be a fraud, if not an outright criminal.
Yours sincerely, Patrik Rosier
By the time I finished the letter, placed it in the envelope, and sealed it with my crest, the others had already made their arrangements. Since I had been occupied with writing, I only now noticed that Agnes was already dueling both Theo and Tobias. Draco, meanwhile, had gloves on and was punching a bag—somewhat clumsily, but with anger. In that short time, he was already breathing heavily.
I decided not to disturb them and headed straight for the owlery at a calm pace. I had no intention of having some idiot on my back next school year and writing exams with questions about what his favorite color was.
I hadn't even left the room when Draco called out to me.
"Patrik, wait!" I turned back to him, and he quickly approached me. "Could you put that Rivanu on? It's better for training."
I smirked and nodded: "Sure, I'll turn on Rivanu for you."
I quickly adjusted the gramophone, and to the sounds of Kurt Cobain and Nirvana singing, I left the Room of Requirement and headed for the owlery.
***
Author's note:
In this chapter, I wanted to explore a slightly different dynamic. Honestly, even I was a bit of a jerk once to my childhood crush, Katarína, back when she had a sixteen-year-old boyfriend :D (though maybe not quite as bad as Draco is to Hermione!).
Things are shifting in this AU: no Ron, a studious duo, and Hagrid's hut is gone. Don't worry about him, though; as a modest groundskeeper with access to rare forest resources, he's actually quite wealthy and ready for a better home.
I've always found Draco's obsession with blood status and his father a bit repetitive in the original books, so I wanted Patrik to give him a more "pragmatic" Slytherin perspective. And Nirvana is going to help us with that!
***
Step into the Restricted Section
The shadows are shifting, and the story goes much deeper... If you can't wait for the next update, Advanced Chapters are already waiting for you.
Enter the Restricted Section here: you-know-what/PatrikWriter
Upcoming Chapters – Already Written(13):
53. The Rat's Final Kiss
54. Deus Vult
55. The Underworld Gambit
56. The Boy Who Sponsored
57. The End of the Year
58. VR: The Warrior of Durmstrang
59. The Mind of a Rosier
60. The Lioness and the Black Blood
61. A Rosier, Not a Goyle
62. The Babel Charm and the Emperor's Dagger
63. Business and Bloodshed
64. Cruelty for Cruelty
65. Adopted by Fate
Join the Inner Circle - tgdTNZYVKt (Discord)
(Vote on plot | Dark FF recs | Chat with the Author)
Support the craft and keep the darkness spreading. Your support directly allows for faster updates.