Chapter Text
Look, Harry didn’t mean to accidentally knock over a highly sensitive potion and spill it all over him and Malfoy.
…it was Malfoy’s fault.
He was just minding his business, thankyouverymuch, and of course , the prat had to rattle on and make subtle comments about the damned Prophet calling him a madman after the tournament last year.
“Of course, there are other things The Prophet is saying about certain individuals,” he heard Malfoy snark. Parkinson giggled and Harry had to will himself to not turn around and hex the prats.
He clenched his knife, which he was currently using to cut his already quite mangled blood roots. The potion they were making was already highly dangerous– something about the perception of time– and Malfoy’s stupid comments were not helping Harry’s focus. He shut his eyes.
After a hell of a summer, Dumbledore ignoring him, and the dementor fiasco, Harry was on his last nerve.
All it took was one push for everything to go to absolute and utter shit.
Literally.
“I can’t say I disagree with them, though,” Malfoy said to Parkinson, but it was remarkably loud and clearly pointed toward Harry.
Harry slammed his knife into his cutting board noisily, temper flaring as Malfoy smirked in satisfaction at his obvious bout of anger. The entire class burst into whispers, which just aggravated his temper further.
“Can you please shut the bloody hell up Malfoy?” he gritted out, internally groaning as he caught Snape’s cloaked figure approaching in his peripheral vision.
“Potter!” he barked, slamming a hand down on Harry’s workspace. “I do not care to witness your personal grudges with Mr. Malfoy. Twenty points from Gryffindor for insulting a classmate and disrupting class.”
Harry looked down and bit his tongue, silently seething. He hated this class. He hated Snape. He hated bloody Malfoy.
“What's wrong, Potter? Can’t handle the truth? Not like you were telling it with your utter nonsense–”
Harry whipped around, walked directly over to Malfoy, and shoved Parkinson out of the way. He faintly heard Hermione yell “Harry, no!” but he ignored it. He was absolutely furious.
Malfoy’s eyes widened as Harry approached, and he moved back with a yelp, knocking his cutting board with his ingredients into the potion as Harry grabbed his collar.
“Listen here you–”
Harry tripped, catching himself on Malfoy’s cauldron.
Which was full of a highly sensitive, incomplete, potion.
A highly sensitive, incomplete potion, now mixed with a cutting board and mass of ingredients that shouldn’t be there.
The last thing Harry heard clearly was a yell of “ you imbeciles! ” from Snape before everything went black.
–
Harry opened his eyes to the very familiar sight of the hospital wing. The tiles on the ceiling were blindingly white, and Harry groaned as he shoved himself into a sitting position, blinking the spots out of his vision. It barely took a second before the memory of the recent altercation came back to him. Bloody Malfoy. Bloody Snape–
A hand suddenly shot out from the side of his vision, jerking his head toward them.
“Hey!” Harry yelled, pulling back. Madam Pomfrey’s frowning face swam into vision. She tutted, walking away.
“He’s awake, Albus,” she said, and Harry turned to see Dumbledore approaching. Harry frowned. He looked quite different. “Looks like James, but the eyes–”
“Why is your beard shorter?”
Dumbledore’s eyebrows raised as Harry cringed. That wasn’t a question he actually intended to ask.
"My beard... shorter?" Dumbledore asked, confusion written all over his face. Harry sighed. Dumbledore is finally not ignoring him, and their conversation is something ridiculous like this? "Nevermind. Just... skip the lecture."
Dumbledore blinked in confusion, and Harry scowled. "Or you could just go back to ignoring me? Like you have the entire year?"
Dumbledore, surprisingly, only looked more confused, which did little to damper Harry's anger.
“Forgive me if you have slipped my mind, but who may you be?” Dumbledore said, ignoring Harry’s rudeness. Harry blinked. Now that threw him off, his anger fading into confusion.
“Er…are you joking, sir?”
“I am not.”
Harry shifted around on the hospital bed, now mildly uncomfortable. His hand reached into his back pocket and to his relief, he felt his wand still there.
“I’m Harry Potter, sir? You know me though. If this is some ridiculous plot...” Harry said, a small frown forming on his face. What did Dumbledore achieve by pretending not to know him?
Madam Pomfrey gasped, eyes instantly flickering to Dumbledore, who promptly started pacing.
“Albus, what is the meaning–”
“Poppy, let us analyze this situation further,” Dumbledore interrupted, holding up a hand. He stopped pacing, now turning to Harry.
“May you please identify the boy in the cot next to you?”
Harry, who was still supremely confused, turned, looking to see a passed-out Malfoy lying by the cot next to him. His face immediately contorted into a scowl. He glanced back toward Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey, who were simply staring at him expectantly. Harry, ridiculously, wanted to laugh.
“Are you two genuinely serious right now?” Harry asked, not bothering to hide the bitterness from his voice. “Do you think I’m stupid? What are you achieving by pretending not to know–”
“I think,” Dumbledore interrupted, holding up a hand. “There has been some confusion. I assure you, I do not know who the boy next to you is. If it is anything to ease your mind, restating the information supposedly already know should do no harm.”
Harry didn’t respond, clenching his jaw and turning to look at the passed-out Malfoy.
“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy,” he spat, not bothering to keep the disdain from his voice.
“Albus…”
Dumbledore sighed.
"Poppy, please wait a moment. I need to find a way to approach this situation... Harry, my boy, do you know James Potter?”
Harry huffed out a bitter laugh despite his heart clenching.
“Okay, now you’re definitely messing me around. Are you joking with me, sir? Is bringing up my father a way of punishment for the dementor fiasco?”
Dumbledore's eyes widened, faint shock visible, but he shook his head.
“It is not my intention to do so, and I am sorry you are under the belief I am attempting to torment you, my boy. I just need to cross out a theory I have about your…arrival.”
Harry raised an eyebrow.
“Arrival? What are you talking about? I’m assuming I’m here because Malfoy was being a prat and spilled the potion–”
“You were the one that spilled the potion, Potter,” said a familiar drawling voice from the other cot. Malfoy had woken up. Harry’s expression immediately dropped into a scowl again.
“No, I wasn’t, you absolute pillock–!”
“That’s enough.”
Both boys stopped arguing, whipping around to face Dumbledore. Dumbledore peered at them for a moment before turning around to face Madam Pomfrey. "A word, Poppy?"
Madam Pomfrey didn't even respond before the two retreated to the other side of the hospital wing, out of earshot. Harry resolutely ignored Malfoy, thoughts too muddled to even attempt to talk to bloody Malfoy of all people. A few minutes later, the pair approached again, and Dumbledore spoke again.
“We have a few questions for you two," Dumbledore started, eyes momentarily flicking to Malfoy for a moment. ”Are you two willing to answer?"
Harry got the feeling that they didn't have much of a choice. He nodded stiffly, and Dumbledore looked pleased. "Very well. First, is quite simple– what year is it?"
“1995,” both Harry and Malfoy answered instantly. Dumbledore sighed and shared a glance with a terrified-looking Madam Pomfrey.
“Unfortunately, Poppy, it seems my theory is correct.”
Madam Pomfrey looked heavily troubled, chewing on her lip and sighing.
“Albus cast a tempus . The boys need to know…”
“Need to know what?” Harry interrupted, raising an eyebrow.
Dumbledore shot Harry a piercing look as if analyzing him, before raising his wand.
“Tempus,” he murmured, and Harry instantly stilled with shock at the result.
1976.
–
“How? How is it possible though?” Harry asked, probably for the seventh time.
Since the revelation, all four people who knew of Harry and Draco’s arrival instantly went to Dumbledore’s office. It was there that it was revealed in the middle of a Hogwarts dinner, that both boys fell into the middle of the Great Hall.
Nobody had seen their faces, as they were immediately ushered to the Hospital wing, but the appearance of two strangers caused the Hogwarts rumor mill to stir quite significantly.
“Unfortunately, we cannot be too sure,” Dumbledore said. “You said you were the son of James Potter and Lily Evans, correct? Are you both in your fifth year?”
Harry nodded, and Madam Pomfrey smiled faintly.
“Seems his pining ended up somewhere,” she said quietly, and Dumbledore chuckled, much to Harry's confusion.
“And you are the son of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black, correct?” Dumbledore questioned, turning toward Malfoy. Draco nodded stiffly. Harry’s eyebrows rose. He didn’t know Draco was related to the Black family. After the understanding that they somehow traveled to the fucking past, he threw a bit of a fit, much to Harry’s glee. He’d been quieter since, however.
“We shall look into a solution to get you two back into your appropriate time period,” Dumbledore declared, standing up. “For now, you two can stay in the hospital wing– we will conjure you both a room to share.”
Harry quickly rose, a million questions flooding his mind.
“Is that it? What about our education? What do we do in the meantime?” Harry asked. Dumbledore shared a glance with Madam Pomfrey.
“Unfortunately, I’m unsure of that Mr. Potter. At the moment, it would be unwise to allow two time travelers enter the public area.”
Harry sighed, clenching his jaw and looking down. Malfoy glanced at him.
“Don’t tell me you thought they’d actually let us attend classes, Potter?” he asked snidely. Harry bristled.
“Well, what’re we going to do in the meantime then?”
Dumbledore stared at them. Harry and Malfoy stared back.
–
Harry sighed.
…
Harry sighed–
“Shut up Potter! I don’t want to hear you sigh every four seconds like a–”
“I can’t help it! I’m bored!”
Harry shot up from his bed in the conjured room, glaring at Malfoy. “We have stuff to be learning! Things to be doing! And we’re doing nothing !”
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Try convincing Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey to let us go to classes, then. I’m fairly certain you’ll be wholly unsuccessful.”
Harry scowled, looking away. “I don’t get it! I mean, theoretically–”
“ Theoretically , Potter, we could be discovered as time travellers and ruin the entire timeline to the point where we wouldn’t even be born.”
Harry paused for a moment, thinking. “I know, but…if we just did our own thing and ignored the students, we could still get an education, right?”
Malfoy shrugged. “Maybe. But it’d be incredibly risky, and clearly Dumbledore is more worried about that than our education.”
Harry sighed. “I know, but–”
“Just ask for textbooks Potter, and study yourself if you care that much,” Malfoy snapped, turning away from Harry.
Harry sighed.
–
Despite Malfoy being a complete and utter twat, Harry decided to follow his suggestion and asked Madam Pomfrey about textbooks.
“Texbooks?” Madam Pomfrey repeated, raising an eyebrow. Harry nodded.
“Well, I suppose I can ask Albus about getting you two textbooks,” she said. “I’ll let you know what he says later today.”
Harry nodded in acknowledgment. “Do you know if he’ll consider–”
Madam Pomfrey suddenly froze, holding up a hand. Footsteps sounded from down the corridor.
“Go back to your conjured room!” she ushered, and Harry scrambled to quickly open the disguised door. A few seconds later, he heard the low timbre of voices from the other side of the door. Ignoring Malfoy’s odd look, he pressed his ear to the door to listen.
“–but it’s only in a couple days! How’s Moony–uh, Remus supposed to catch up that quickly?”
“Mr. Black, I assure you, his teachers will be aware.”
Harry’s eyes widened. Professor Lupin? Is that Sirius talking to Madam Pomfrey right now? He felt an inexplicable desire to burst out of the door.
A low chuckle emanated from presumably Sirius. “Can I, too? Because I’ll be so busy taking care of poor, injured Remus?”
“No, you can’t.”
“Aw, but why–”
“Get out.”
Harry grinned at that, the first time he’s smiled since the incident. It seemed Sirius wasn’t lying about how mischievous he was in his Hogwarts days. Talking to Madam Pomfrey like that ? And getting away with it? She, along with the rest of the teachers, must be used to it.
“What are you grinning about, Potter?” he heard Malfoy ask. He turned to see Malfoy looking at him with in inquisitive expression, eyebrow raised.
“I heard, uh, my godfather. He was talking to Madam Pomfrey,” Harry mumbled vaguely. He didn’t really want to talk to Malfoy about Sirius.
"You mean Sirius Black?" Malfoy said, sneering. Harry stiffened. Truthfully, he'd completely forgotten that he was supposed to absolutely hate Sirius. Malfoy spoke up again before Harry could respond.
"I know he's innocent," he said, rolling his eyes. Harry blinked in shock.
"What?! Since when?"
Malfoy seemed cruelly amused at Harry's confusion. "After third year."
Harry turned away from Malfoy, thinking. How the hell did Malfoy find out, of all people? He decided not the dwell on it and left the shared room to talk to Madam Pomfrey.
“So, the textbooks?” he asked the moment he approached her. Madam Pomfrey sighed.
“Yes, Mr. Potter. I will get you your textbooks,” she said. Harry hesitated before asking his next question.
“D’yknow if…he’d even consider letting us attend classes? Under a fake name, or disguise or something?” Harry asked, unable to mask the hope in his voice. Madam Pomfrey frowned.
“I’ll ask…but I doubt it, Mr. Potter.”
Harry nodded. That was to be expected, he supposed.
He was fine with textbooks for now.
–
The next week was probably the most boring, horrible, tiring week of Harry’s life. He’d rather be at the Dursley’s, and that says a lot.
He, fortunately, did get his textbooks. But spending all his days in a room with a peeved off Malfoy reading school textbooks and glancing longingly at the door every few moments wasn’t exactly the best routine in the world.
Harry really, really , wanted to go outside. Not only were his parents out there, but there was probably a lot more insight he could get for his future from the past, especially since Voldemort was now back in his timeline.
…he also just really wanted to see his parents. If only once.
That was exactly why when Harry and Malfoy were called into Dumbledore’s office, Harry was fully ready to ask about attending classes again, and completely ready to get denied.
Imagine his surprise when he didn’t even have to ask.
“You two shall start attending classes,” Dumbledore said simply as Harry and Malfoy sat down. Malfoy’s jaw dropped.
“What?! What if I run into my parents? Or Merlin forbid, Potter runs into his parents? From what I’ve heard, he’s a spitting image of his father!”
Harry nodded quickly, reveling in the fact that he was agreeing with Malfoy of all people. Was he going to get a disguise?
“You two will be extra careful then. Additionally, it is difficult not to let you two boys be seen because students have already spotted you. It would be rather odd for you two not to make some sort of appearance afterward. Try to lay low– after all, you both are still students attending Hogwarts. I do not intend to keep young mind's from education.”
Harry dropped back into the chair, thinking. When he imagined attending classes, he thought it would at least be under a disguise or something of the sort. This was the last thing he expected.
“We’re in the same year as our parents…right?” he asked, silently hoping that they were. Despite it being risky, he still, rather selfishly, wanted to see his parents.
Dumbledore nodded.
“I understand you might be quite curious to meet them, however, I encourage you to avoid them. If you two are recognized, it may cause problems we don’t know the consequences of.”
Harry chanced a glance at Malfoy, who was staring blankly at the floor. Harry sighed, fidgeting uncomfortably. These next few weeks would not be normal.
“Not that I’m upset or anything,” Harry started, looking at Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore. “But is there anything that prompted this?”
Surprisingly, Madam Pomfrey smiled. “Well, the Headmaster believes that there’s only so many textbooks one can read before they have the urge to explore.”
Harry blinked in shock before grinning. Malfoy shot him a confused look.
"However, we're putting a lot of trust in you boys to stay low," Madam Pomfrey said, looking at both of them, her smile shifting into a severe expression. "It would be in your best interest to not cause any mishaps."
Harry nodded, but inside, his heart was sinking, despite his smile. How was he going to do that without a disguise or any support other than Malfoy?
Really, why was it always him?
–
Harry stared at his reflection, absentmindedly fidgeting with his red and gold tie. It was more of a nervous gesture, than anything– after all, there would be many people he would recognize and would have to try and avoid. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if someone even mistook him for James Potter.
He and Dumbledore had come up with a cover story for his appearance and arrival– he was Harrison James, and he had joined late in the year. He supposedly was sorted in private and doesn’t live in dorms because of a medical condition he has. Draco Fawley (he refused to take on a fake name that wasn’t pureblood) also transferred with Harrison, is attending the same classes as him, and they were…friends.
(Yes, Harry argued against it despite knowing that as time travelers, they should very well stick together. No, it didn’t work.)
Why was Harry doing this? How did he get here? Yesterday, he was talking to Ron and Hermione, complaining about Umbridge and now he's traveled to the bloody past. And why is Dumbledore letting them attend classes normally? Doesn't he know that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter attempting to lay low without a disguise and under the ruse that they were bloody friends is probably not going to end well?
“Hurry up, Potter. Transfiguration starts in five minutes, and I am not being late because of you,” said Malfoy, causing Harry to look around and scowl.
“Fine,” he spat, moving away from the mirror and picking up his bag. “Forgive me for being nervous because I'm about to meet my dead parents.”
Malfoy rolled his eyes but waited as Harry gathered his textbooks. It seemed he wasn’t the only one nervous. They both exited their conjured room and started their walk to the Transfiguration classroom. Hogwarts looked…startingly similar.
As Harry continued walking, he almost did a double take as he saw Malfoy’s parents sitting outside on a courtyard bench, chatting. He chanced a glance at Malfoy, watching as his gaze lingered on his father. Both of their postures were perfect and faces neutral. You could see the faintest bit of wonder in his eyes if you looked close enough.
Harry kept walking, and noted that there were subtle differences, though– the lack of cracks in the walls, the greenery better trimmed, and of course, the students. There were enough differences to remind the pair that they definitely weren't in their current timeline.
As they approached the front of the classroom, Harry’s hands started to shake. He couldn’t tell if it was from being excited or terrified. Malfoy suddenly turned toward Harry, grabbing his hand and stilling it. He shot Harry a piercing look.
“You aren’t the only one who’s nervous, Potter,” he said snarkily, though it had a hint of consolation. “You need to get your act together and focus. We don’t want to face the consequences of being found out.”
Harry, despite the several insults he had that begged to be said, nodded stiffly. Now was not the time. He pushed open the door.
Malfoy managed to stifle his gasp, but Harry couldn’t. The class, luckily, was loud enough that nobody noticed. The Gryffindors and Slytherins chattered loudly, waiting for class to start. He could see his father, Sirius, Professor Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew talking to one another– casually shooting jokes and laughing loudly, unaware of their future. His father really did look like him– raven unruly hair, round glasses, and deep brown skin. His mother was in the seat across from his father– auburn hair cascading down her shoulders, green eyes focused on her textbook. She was beautiful. It all sent a painful pang through Harry’s chest.
On the other side, the Slytherins were chattering neutrally, sarcastic remarks being thrown at one another that were met with sharp smiles. The difference was rather surprising. His eyes widened as he saw Professor Snape flipping through his textbook as a normal teenager. This was so…odd.
Professor McGonagall approached from behind them, not sparing a glance at the two students standing in front of the door, making a beeline for the front of the classroom. The class instantly quieted down.
“Today, we will have two new students joining us– Harrison James and Draco Fawley,” she said simply, motioning directly toward Harry and Malfoy. The entire fucking class turned towards them, a few people’s eyes widening at the clear resemblance of their fathers– even Malfoy looked similar to Lucius.
“Oi, Prongs, the Harrison bloke looks similar to you,” Sirius said, nudging his father. Harry grimaced, but James grinned.
“Huh. Nice you meet you, Harrison!” he said jovially, waving from his seat. Harry gulped, unable to respond. Malfoy nudged him.
“Ah, yeah, er, nice to meet you too, Potter,” he mumbled. Malfoy hissed quietly from beside him.
“You idiot, you arent supposed to know his name–”
“Interesting, Harrison. I don’t recall ever introducing myself,” he said, raising an eyebrow and ruffling his hair. Harry saw his mother roll his eyes.
“Er, I guessed–”
“Enough. Harrison, Draco, if you two would please go to the available seats,” McGonagall said, motioning towards the empty desks that were, unfortunately (fortunately?) near the Marauders. Harry nodded and instantly took a seat. Thank god for that save.
The lesson started, and it was evident that their fifth year was a little behind on Draco and Harry’s. They were working on vanishing objects– something the two had already mastered weeks prior. Harry sighed, gazing out the window. Despite his nervousness, classes never failed to bore him at times. As idle thoughts of lunch floated through his mind, McGonagall cleared her throat, startling him.
“Mr. James. No, not you Potter–, Harrison.”
Harry immediately stiffened.
“Yes, Professor?”
McGonagall’s eyes narrowed slightly, her lips pursing. Uh oh.
“Have you been paying attention? Right now, it seems that the tree by the window has your attention more than I,” she remarked, earning a few snickers from the class. Even Malfoy, the traitor! Harry flushed.
“No–er, I mean, I have been paying attention,” he mumbled, pointedly avoiding her gaze.
“Very well. Please demonstrate to the class, then,” she requested, placing a mouse on the desk to vanish. Harry grabbed his wand, murmuring the incantation and watching the mouse disappear. He waited a few moments before casting the spell for it to re-appear. He looked up, and McGonagall’s eyebrows were raised and she had a faintly surprised expression.
“I haven’t taught the incantation for the object to re-appear. May you please enlighten me on how you were able to do that remarkable Transfiguration?” she asked, seeming genuinely impressed. Harry couldn’t help but bask in the praise– but at the same time, he was really nervous. Malfoy looked murderous .
“I er, guessed–”
Malfoy kicked him under the desk. Hard.
“Ow– I mean, uh, I read ahead,” he said, grinning rather sheepishly. McGonagall narrowed his eyes at him, her gaze suspicious. He saw Sirius mumble something to his father, who snickered, shooting a mischievous look toward Harry. Harry grimaced internally. So much for not being noticed.
“Impressive. Five points to Gryffindor,” McGonagall finally said, swooping to the front of the room and resuming the lesson.
Harry pretended to pay attention for the rest of the class, flinching a bit every time Malfoy shot him a particularly murderous glare.
–
“Are you fucking stupid, Potter? Could you not help showing off for one lesson –”
“I wasn’t showing off!” Harry protested, glaring back at Malfoy. He was not going to be told off by Malfoy of all people. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’ve already learned this stuff!”
Malfoy scowled.
“I know that! Which is exactly why we have to be careful! Do you know how questionable it is that two fifth years that just arrived at Hogwarts already know complex spells? Your father and Black are already suspicous of you!” Malfoy yelled, looking genuinely scared at the prospect of being found out. “In case you were too busy basking in the praise given to you, they’ve been shooting strange looks at you!”
Harry sighed.
“Fine. I get it. I’ll be careful,” he mumbled, still rather salty about Transfiguration. “I didn’t mean too.”
Malfoy scoffed.
“Fine, Potter. Maybe you didn’t. But that won’t matter if we’re found out.”
–
Meal times are the one time of day when the two time travelers had to stay apart. This was something that Harry was decidedly nervous about, despite the ridiculousness of wanting to have Draco fucking Malfoy of all people around him.
He was smart enough to know it would be really easy for him to slip up. Based on the glances that Malfoy has been shooting him as they approach the hall, he knows it too.
As Harry was about to enter the hall, Malfoy’s pale hand shot out from behind him and yanked him behind a tapestry.
“Now listen here Potter,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “If you mess up anything, if you let anything slip…”
Harry scowled.
“I know Malfoy! I won’t do anything.”
Malfoy’s eyes narrowed for a moment before he let go, stalking off toward the Slytherin table. Prat. Harry rolled his eyes at Malfoy’s rather dramatic antics and entered the hall.
The Great Hall, was, as usual, bustling with its regular energy. Harry was ready to sit down at the end of the hall and at least pull out one of his school books to not look like an idiot– before a familiar voice yelled his name.
“Oi, Harrison!” Sirius called, waving toward him. Harry’s eyes flicked over to his smiling face– which was a little too mischievous to be genuine. “Why don’t you sit with us?”
Harry wished for nothing more but the ground to consume him. Based on the look Malfoy was giving him from the Slytherin table, which he was sitting at the end of alone, he wanted the same thing to happen.
“Er–”
“Oh c’mon, we just wanna get to know our new Gryffindor classmate!” James said cheerfully, motioning him over. Harry could see Remus roll his eyes in response to his friend's antics. Harry started walking towards the group, resigning to his fate.
“Hey mate! How come you weren’t in the Gryffindor dorms?” James asked as Harry sat down. “You’ve been the talk of the table after Transfiguration!”
“Especially after those two kids fell out of nowhere!” Peter exclaimed.
Sirius rolled his eyes.
“It was clearly them, Peter. Portkey gone wrong?” Sirius asked him. Harry nodded stiffly, unable to decide if he was absolutely thrilled to be talking to a younger version of his godfather or not.
“James did have a valid question. Where are you staying, if not the dorms?” Remus asked, peering at Harry curiously.
“Er, medical condition. I stay in a seperate room,” Harry mumbled, avoiding his eyes. All three other Marauders immediately glanced toward Remus, who’s eyebrows were raised. Harry supposed it would be interesting hearing of a medical condition that makes you stay in the hospital wing– especially if you are a werewolf.
“That was some pretty cool Transfiguration you did in class,” Peter pipped up again, and Harry had to physically restrain himself from jumping over the table and beating the shit out of him. James laughed, startling Harry out of his rather murderous thoughts. Harry felt odd– laughing with the teenage versions of his father's friends. It was all rather sad, and Harry was trying desperately not to let the emotions catch up to him and make him burst out crying in the middle of the Great Hall.
“It certainly was. I’ll admit, I was a little shocked to see someone who wasn’t even paying attention do better than me. Especially considering I’m the top of the class…” James said, the unspoken question lingering in the air. Harry wanted to facepalm. Of fucking course, he remembers now that his father’s best subject was Transfiguration– obviously, he’d want to know how this random kid suddenly did better!
“Er, I studied at home, and I read ahead on textbooks,” Harry said, willing his voice to steady. “I suppose I was nervous and overprepared a bit.”
Sirius raised an eyebrow.
“Hear that, Potter? You’re gonna be overtaken by Harrison here!”
James grinned in response.
“Whatever you say, Pads.”
–
The first thing after lunch, Malfoy immediately cornered him as he was approaching DADA. Harry was almost at the classroom, reveling in the fact that he was able to not say anything stupid until he was aggressively shoved into the castle walls.
“What the fuck–”
“What the hell did I say, Potter?” Malfoy snarled, regarding Harry with disdain. “Can you not mess up anything we do–”
“I didn’t do anything!” Harry yelled, pushing Malfoy off of him. “I’d appreciate if you’d stop assuming–”
“Oh, well forgive me for assuming that Harry Potter would do something stupid,” Malfoy snarked. Harry scowled in response.
“I’ll have you know that I didn’t say anything suspicious, even when my dad asked me about what happened in Transfiguration or why I didn’t stay in dorms,” Harry said stubbornly. Malfoy rolled his eyes.
“Whatever,” Malfoy snarled, grabbing Harry by the arm and dragging him to the classroom. “We have a class to get to. I’m not letting your stupidity get in the way of my education.”
Harry scowled. If he had to deal with Malfoy’s whining any longer, he was going to pitch himself off the astronomy tower.
–
The Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom was different every year in Harry and Draco’s timeline, and it seemed the past had no exception. The classroom was filled with dueling equipment, dummies, and bookshelves lined with spellbooks. Harry quite liked it.
Harry and Draco didn’t get an introduction this time. Both boys went to their respective sides of the room, and Harry was determined to lay low for this class.
…even if it was his best subject, and subtlety went against every fiber of his being.
The class started off pretty standard. The professor lectured their students on the importance of OWLs (Harry did not pay attention, he had already heard enough of this for one timeline) and that they would be doing revision today.
Revision for the boggart banishing spell. Harry has never been so thankful that his boggart isn’t something like his parents dead.
Like in Professor Lupin’s class, they were all lined up to face a boggart and banish it. Harry thought it was rather unfair that all students had to display their biggest fear to everyone.
His father’s boggart was heart-wrenching– his parents and friends on the floor dead. He immediately countered it, but knowing that one day many of those in his boggart would be dead hurt . Sirius’s boggart hurt equally as much– a vision of him with the dark mark on his skin. In his timeline, that's what everyone thinks.
After Sirius conquered the boggart rather quickly, he high-fived James, seeming jovial. But, if you looked close enough, there were specks of uneasiness in his grey eyes.
Harry stopped looking at people’s boggarts after that.
As the line moved ahead, and he was around five people from his turn, Draco nudged him. He turned around, and the boy looked terrified .
“Pot– Harrison,” he started, glancing around to see if anyone caught his slip-up. He turned back to Harry. “Is your boggart…?”
“Mine is a dementor. So nothing suspicious,” Harry said. Draco looked a little less scared, but fear was still etched on his face.
“Mine is my father,” he said. Harry’s eyes widened. Why was Draco afraid of his own bloody father? The prat would always rattle on about him in their school years. Harry was desperately curious, even suspicious that he was lying (despite that not making sense), but now wasn’t the time to press.
“Shit. That’s not good.”
Draco scowled at him.
“Thanks for telling me that ground-breaking information Pot– Harrison,” he sneered, uneasiness melting into disdain. Harry ignored it.
“Go tell the Professor you can’t do it,” Harry urged, motioning to the teacher. They were only two people away now. Draco looked as if he’d like to do nothing less, but he gave Harry a curt nod and left the line.
“Harrison, you’re up!”
Harry gulped, walking up to the boggart and watching it shift. After a few moments, it warped into the expected form of a dementor. A few gasps ran through the line behind him, and the Professor straightened instantly.
“Ah, Harrison, if you’d like me to–”
“Riddikulus!”
The boggart immediately retreated into the dresser, making a pained sound that Harry didn’t even know boggarts could make. There were a few moments before the Professor breathed out a sigh of relief.
“What splendid spell work! Simply incredible!”
Harry determinedly did not look at Malfoy as he went back to his desk.
However, he didn’t miss the quizzical look his mother sent him.
–
“You’re treading on thin ice. You’re making yourself have a name among the fifth years.”
Harry sighed, dropping his bag down and flopping onto the bed.
“I don’t mean too.”
Malfoy scoffed.
“As you’ve said before. And I’ll say again, it won’t matter if you do or don’t mean to if we get found out.”
Harry rolled over, ignoring Malfoy. The first day was…exhausting, to say the least.
At the same time, though? Harry couldn’t wait to continue tomorrow. Seeing everything in the past was one of the most enlightening things Harry had ever seen before. Sure it might be a bit risky interacting with his father and his friends…but what's life without a little risk?
Harry decided it then– he wasn’t going to let Malfoy ruin anything for him.