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Chapter Text

When Draco had thought of his future career, Healer had never even made the list, but at 27, here he was.

Draco had always thought he would follow in his father’s footsteps and work in the Ministry, but his father’s path as a Death Eater and a Ministry worker obsessed with ambition and power, never caring who he had to step on to get it, had led straight to Azkaban. While Harry had defended Draco and his mother, his father wasn’t so lucky and never once did Draco blame Harry for not standing by his father. Draco didn’t even stand by his father after all he had done.

So after Draco completed his eighth year at Hogwarts (to replace the seventh year that had been spent being a Death Eater in a school run by Death Eaters), he decided on a career as far from his father’s as possible: a Healer.

After spending so many years hurting people, helping them was a much nicer feeling. An atonement, a redemption, of sorts, although Draco never even hoped to be absolved completely of all he had done and let be done to others, no matter how many people he helped.

So that’s what led Draco to walking down the St. Mungo’s corridor, clipboard in hand, and he arrived at a door labeled Theodore Nott.

He scanned the chart in his hands, his brow knit in curiosity. He remembered Theodore Nott from his years at Hogwarts; he was even more of a pure blood fanatic than Draco had been and just as much a bully. Draco had kept tabs on very few classmates since Hogwarts, and he wondered what had led Theodore Nott to the Critical Care Unit at St. Mungo’s.

“Malfoy?”

Draco glanced up at his name, and his eyes widened in surprise.

“Longbottom?”

Speaking of classmates Draco hadn’t kept in contact with, Neville Longbottom walked down the corridor towards him, his own eyes just as wide. Of all the ways to run into each other, clearly neither of them had expected a corridor at St. Mungo’s.

“What are you doing here?” Neville asked.

Draco raised an eyebrow and glanced down at his Healer robes. Neville blushed slightly.

“Oh, right. I didn’t know you became a Healer,” Neville said.

Draco nodded. “I became a Healer after my eighth year at Hogwarts. But what about you? How have you been?”

Neville seemed surprised at the question, probably expecting Draco to still be that snobby bully he had been during his Hogwarts years.

“I’ve been good,” Neville answered. “Professional Herbologist now. I was called in to assist on an injury by an unknown magical plant.”

Draco nodded, and they stood there in awkward silence for a moment. Draco opened his mouth, having no idea what he was about to say but needing to break the silence. Before he could, though, a guttural scream sounded from the other side of Theodore Nott’s door.

Draco jumped into action, bursting through the door to find Nott restrained to the bed and fighting the restraints with all his might. His whole body was covered in blisters, his skin red and inflamed like his body was about to catch on fire. He was screaming at the top of his lungs.

Draco ran to Nott’s side. “Theodore?” Draco said, hoping the use of his first name might calm him down.

It didn’t. “Let me go! Let me go! Let me go! I need to go back!” Nott screeched.

“Theodore, you’re at St. Mungo’s. Can you remember what happened to you?” Draco asked, pulling out his wand and casting a quick Lumos. He shined the wand into Nott’s eyes and watched his pupils dilate.

“I need to change it, bring him back! Save my father!” Nott yelled. He clenched his eyes shut against the light from Draco’s wand and tossed his head back and forth. Draco cast a cushioning spell around his head before he could hit it against the headboard.

Draco frowned. Nott’s father had been in Azkaban since the war; he had been sentenced around the same time as Draco’s father- life sentence, no possibility of freedom. Draco had learned a long time ago there was no saving someone from that kind of sentence.

Nott kept screaming. “Let me go let me go let me go!”

One of Nott’s restraints suddenly caught on fire, likely because of accidental magic. Draco turned his wand on the fire and cast augumenti. The water doused the flames, but more flames took their place, jumping out of no where and catching the bedsheets on fire.

Longbottom appeared at Draco’s side, and they both hastily cast augumenti after augumenti until the flames were put out.

Nott breathed heavily, staring blankly at the ceiling. His boils were bleeding more than ever, drenching the bed sheets. Draco listened to Nott’s breaths get shallower and more labored.

“Have to… fix it. Make Father… proud,” Nott rasped.

Then, his breathing stopped. Draco’s eyes widened, and he leapt forward to begin the spell to revive Nott, get his heart beating again. Draco stopped in his tracks when something fell from Nott’s slack hand and shattered against the ground.

Draco and Neville both stumbled back as gold dust plumed from the shattered glass, circling their feet in tendrils of pure magic.

“What’s happening?” Neville asked in panic.

“I don’t know!” Draco replied.

The dust surrounded them completely until the golden dust was all they could see, whirling around them like a tornado.

Then, it settled, drifting to the ground and disappearing like stars winking out of existence.

Draco looked up and found himself staring into the eyes of a much younger- a teenage- Neville Longbottom.

Neville looked back at him with impossibly wide, stunned eyes set into a much rounder, chubbier face.

“What… just… happened?” Neville asked.

Draco shook his head, completely stupefied. “I have no idea. Why are you younger?”

“It’s not just me. You too,” Neville told him.

Draco frowned in confusion and looked down at himself. He was much shorter and dressed in… Hogwarts robes?

“What Nott broke,” Neville spoke slowly. “It was a Time Turner. Could we be…”

Draco realized where Neville was going with this. “No way,” Draco said, his brain refusing to compute.

Time travel was one thing. While all the Time Turners had been destroyed during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, or so Draco had heard, a Time Turner wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. But Time Turners only went back hours and they never deaged you or… reverted you back to your past self. That was impossible!

But then again, wasn’t everything impossible until someone figured it out?

Nott had talked a lot about changing it, whatever it was, and saving his father. Could Nott have created a Time Turner to go back years and to even revert a person to their past self?

It was hard for Draco to wrap his head around.

“Okay,” Draco said. “If that’s the case… when are we?”

Neville looked around, like the answer would reveal itself, but before Neville could even hazard a guess, a coldness swept over the room. They both shivered, and when they exhaled, their breath crystallized. Frost crept over the windows.

“Wh-What’s happening?” Neville stammered, but they both recognized this feeling. It was hard to forget.

The door to the compartment squealed in protest as it was slowly slid open. They both turned towards it.

Draco inhaled sharply. “Dementors.”

The shadowy creature loomed in the doorway, towering over them. The emptiness beneath its hood stared at them with hollow, nonexistent eyes.

Guilt crashed over Draco like he’d been hit by a train. His ears rang with the screams of all the people he’d seen tortured, the people he’d tortured himself. He smelled and tasted blood, the blood that soaked his hands. Before his eyes, he saw flashes of his worst memories- a Muggle Studies professor devoured by a snake, Hermione tortured by Bellatrix, Crabbe consumed by Fiend Fyre, and of course, his own wand pointed at Dumbledore’s pleading eyes.

The guilt was too much. The pain was too much. A pain that lingered beneath the skin, never drew blood but was always there. It drained him, left him exhausted. He’d been running from it for years, and now that he was face to face with it, he didn’t have the strength to fight it.

Draco passed out.

Neville was still struggling to come to terms with the fact that they had time traveled when the Dementor appeared in the doorway. Cold rushed through the room, and images of death and torture threatened to creep in on the edges of Neville’s vision.

Draco fainted, collapsing heavily to the floor. The Dementor started towards Draco, the darkness where its face should be gaping wide.

Neville shoved the images away and leapt in front of Draco.

“No,” Neville growled, raising his wand.

He pictured laughing with Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Dean in their dorm room. He pictured himself in the Greenhouse, content with working with his hands and his plants. He pictured the first time he got on A on an assignment.

It wasn’t enough.

The images roared through his head again, stronger than ever, and the Dementor was staring him in the face. Neville was staring into the abyss of the Dementor’s face, and the abyss was staring back.

“He’s not here,” Neville managed, barely hearing his own voice over the sound of a hundred screams.

The Dementor halted for a moment, and Neville thought it had worked, but it wasn’t Neville’s words that stalled the Dementor. A ghostly glowing wolf bounded into the room and growled at the Dementor. The Dementor immediately fled the embodiment of happiness and light and disappeared from the compartment.

Neville slumped in relief. He turned back to Draco, who was still lying on the floor unconscious, and he knelt beside him.

A familiar face appeared in the doorway, a face Neville had last seen lifeless on a gurney after the Battle of Hogwarts.

“Oh, dear,” Professor Lupin said. He knelt down beside Draco and waved his wand. “Renervate.”

Draco’s eyes shot open, and he gasped for breath.

“Are you alright, lad?” Professor Lupin asked, and Draco stared at him like he’d seen a ghost, which Neville supposed he had. “Here, have some chocolate. You, too.”

Neville and Draco both accepted the piece of chocolate and ate it silently while not looking away from the supposed-to-be-dead man.

“Oh, where are my manners?” Professor Lupin said. “I’m Professor Lupin, your new Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher.”

“I’m Neville Longbottom,” Neville introduced himself because what else could he do? They were apparently in the past (in their third year) as thirteen year olds face to face with a man that had been dead for ten years. There were so many questions and no answers, and if they came out and said they were time travelers, everyone would think they were crazy.

So they did the only thing they could do: they went along with it.

“Draco Malfoy,” Draco said.

“Well, nice to meet you. I better go check on the other students. Are you sure you’re alright?” He asked.

Neville nodded, and Draco said, “I’m fine.”

Professor Lupin nodded and left the compartment.

Draco turned to Neville. “So. Time travel apparently.”

Neville nodded. “Time travel.”

Chapter Text

No sooner had Neville finished the words time travel did the compartment doors slide open.

“Malfoy,” Crabbe said.

Draco clenched his fists looking at him, remembering Crabbe’s terrified face as he fell from the stacks of things in the Room of Requirement, consumed by relentless Fiend Fyre. He knew they’d be seeing people that had died; Lupin was a prime example of that, but seeing his friend (well, maybe friend was a strong word, but it was the closest Draco had) touched a nerve.

Not only that but Crabbe and Goyle were a reminder of everything he had been, everything he wasn’t anymore (at least he hoped not), everything he swore he’d never be again. That reminder touched a different kind of nerve.

Their tenuous friendship (more of an ally ship) was illustrated when Crabbe and Goyle didn’t even notice how pale and sickly Draco looked or ask if he was okay. Instead, the first thing Crabbe said was:

“What are you doing with Longbottom?”

Draco glanced at Neville, who clearly expected Draco to say something mean. Neville glanced at the ground.

But Draco wasn’t that person anymore, and time travel or not, he wasn’t going to be again.

“I didn’t know it was a crime to sit with someone other than you and Goyle, Crabbe,” Draco said cooly.

“It is if you’re sitting with a Gryffindor, barely more than a Squib at that,” Crabbe laughed. Goyle laughed, too.

“Says the one who once set his hair on fire trying to cast aguamenti,” Draco snapped.

He wasn’t sure why he was suddenly so protective of Longbottom. Maybe it was because Longbottom was the only person in the past with him, which, like it or not, meant they were kind of stuck together until they found a way home. Might as well not make it awkward by insulting the guy.

Goyle sputtered a laugh, but one glare from Crabbe shut him up.

“What’s up with you, Malfoy?” Crabbe demanded. “Sitting with a Gryffindor, defending one!”

“Maybe I wanted slightly more intelligent company than you and Goyle,” Draco said. “You may leave now.”

Crabbe opened his mouth to say something.

“You may leave now,” Draco ordered, voice harsh. His hand twitched towards his wand. He stared Crabbe down.

Crabbe looked away first. He hesitated another moment before he ducked out of the compartment, and Goyle, with one last confused look at Draco, followed.

“You, uh, you didn’t have to do that,” Neville said. “I know they’re your… friends.”

Draco shrugged. “Hardly. More like henchman, annoying ones at that. And like it or not, Longbottom, until we find a way home, we’re stuck together.”

Longbottom nodded. “I suppose we are. But if we’re going to be ‘stuck together,’ as you put it, you should call me Neville.”

“Then you can call me Draco. Probably shouldn’t in public, though. There’s going to be enough rumors after that run in with Crabbe and Goyle,” Draco said.

“Deal,” Neville said.

“We should get changed into our robes. We’ll be arriving at Hogwarts soon,” Draco mentioned, looking out the window at the darkening sky. In the distance, he could see the winks of lights that meant Hogwarts.

“Hogwarts,” Neville whispered in a tone of reverent awe.

Draco knew what he was feeling. Even after ten years out of school, going back to Hogwarts felt a little like coming home.

Before they left the compartment, Neville said, “Meet me in the Room of Requirement, 8 o’clock tonight.”

Draco nodded, and the minute they left the compartment, before anyone could notice them together, they went their separate ways.

Draco’s footsteps stuttered slightly when he saw the Thesterals. Of course, he knew he could see them, but one rarely saw them outside of Hogwarts, and seeing them was a shock.

Draco had always thought Thesterals were beautiful in an eerie sort of way. Their skeletal forms were majestic and strong, and their black, leathery skin was the color of ebony. When their eyes met yours, they radiated intelligence, like they could read your entire soul in one stare.

Or at least, that’s how Draco felt when one of the Thestrals glanced at him and fixed its stare on Draco. The Thestral cocked its head, like it was curious.

Draco tore his gaze away and climbed into a carriage with the other Slytherins- Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, Millicent, and… Theodore Nott.

Draco quickly avoided Nott’s gaze because all he could see was a face covered in boils and red, blistered skin and a mouth open in a tortured scream.

“I see the prince has decided to grace us with his presence,” Goyle said. “Sure you don’t want to sit with the Gryffindors?”

The other Slytherins glanced between Draco and Crabbe and Goyle in confusion.

“What on earth are you talking about?” Pansy asked.

“Draco decided to sit with Longbottom on the train,” Crabbe said.

The other Slytherins looked at Draco in shock and a little bit of anger. To the Slytherins, even associating with a Gryffindor other than to bully them was a crime worse than murder.

“We happened to share a compartment because everywhere else was full. We barely even talked,” Draco lied.

Crabbe glared at him and then looked away, turning his nose up.

Draco sighed and tried to change the subject. “Anyway, Pansy, how was your summer?”

Pansy took the hint. “Oh, it was wonderful. My mother threw an amazing party for my thirteenth birthday, and-“

Draco only felt a little bad about tuning her out. He had bigger problems to worry about.

Meanwhile, Neville, unsure of where else to go, had climbed into a carriage with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

“Harry, are you sure you’re alright?” Hermione was asking as Neville climbed in.

“Yes, Hermione,” Harry stressed in exasperation. “I’m fine.”

“What happened?” Neville asked. “If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

“Harry passed out when the Dementor came into the compartment,” Ron blurted out. Hermione elbowed him. “Ow! What?”

Harry looked down in embarrassment.

Neville patted him on the shoulder. “It’s alright, Harry. It just means you had a strong reaction to it. A lot of people do. I almost passed out myself, and Malfoy actually did.”

“Malfoy passed out?” Ron asked. “Guess he’s not so tough.”

Neville narrowed his eyes. “It’s not funny, Ron. Some people who have past trauma have strong reactions to Dementors.”

“What past trauma could Malfoy have?” Ron scoffed. “He’s a spoiled brat.”

“He’s still human, Ron. You don’t know his story,” Neville snapped.

“Why are you defending him? He’s been nothing but cruel to you since first year!” Ron exclaimed.

“I’m with Ron on this one,” Harry said. “He’s nothing but a bully.”

“I’m just saying,” Neville said, choosing his words carefully. “Maybe he isn’t as bad as you think.”

“If you say so,” Harry said, clearly not believing him.

They were quiet for the rest of the carriage ride, but Neville didn’t miss the curious glances the Golden Trio was sending him.

They arrived at school, and Draco was heading towards the Great Hall when a hand landed on his shoulder.

Draco turned, his hand instinctively going for his wand. While some of the Wizarding World couldn’t care less about the Malfoys, some still thought him the embodiment of evil, a no good Death Eater. Draco had fought off a good number of attacks in the past ten years.

But of course, that was in the future, so this wasn’t an attack. Severus Snape stared at him in disguised concern, his eyes glancing down to Draco’s hand resting on his wand.

Draco immediately relaxed upon seeing Severus, and he fought to keep himself from tearing up. Losing his godfather had been hard, especially with his father in Azkaban. He still remembered cleaning out the man’s house after the funeral. It had been one of the hardest experiences of his life, along with seeing his father carted off to Azkaban (twice).

“Draco, Professor McGonagall would like to speak with you,” Snape said.

Draco nodded. “Of course.”

Snape led Draco to McGonagall’s office, and when they walked in, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger were already sitting there. They turned when he walked in, and surprise was written across their faces.

“Take a seat, Mr. Malfoy,” Professor McGonagall said, motioning to a chair beside Harry.

Draco sat down and resolutely avoided Harry and Hermione’s gazes.

The door opened, and Madam Pomphrey bustled in.

“I’m fine,” Harry tried to say, but Madam Pomphrey was already touching a hand to his forehead.

“Oh, it’s you, isn’t it? I suppose you’re doing something dangerous again,” Madam Pomphrey said.

“Mr. Potter passed out from the Dementor,” Professor McGonagall said. “Mr. Malfoy, too.”

“Setting Dementors around a school. What a foolish idea,” Madam Pomphrey scowled as she felt Draco’s forehead. “They won’t be the first to collapse. Dementors are nasty creatures, and the effect they have on people who are already delicate-“

“I’m not delicate!” Both Harry and Draco said. They glanced at each other.

“They both feel clammy and look pale,” Madam Pomphrey said. “A little chocolate will help with that.”

“Professor Lupin already gave us some,” Harry said.

Madam Pomphrey raised her eyebrows in surprise. “A Defense Against The Dark Arts professor who knows his remedies? Maybe we’ll finally have a DADA professor worth his salt.”

“Poppy,” McGonagall scolded, but it was a weak attempt.

“I must get back to the Infirmary. They’ll be fine, but I recommend they take it easy,” Madam Pomphrey advised, and she bustled out of the room.

“You heard Madam Pomphrey, Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy. Take it easy. That will be all. I need to speak with Miss Granger.”

Draco nodded and stood up, followed by Harry. They walked out of the room.

“So… the Dementor got to you, too, huh?” Potter said.

“It’s really none of your business, Potter,” Draco snapped, fighting a blush of embarrassment. He still couldn’t believe he had fainted like a schoolgirl, and he refused to talk about it, especially with Potter.

Potter raised his hands in surrender. “Just trying to make conversation.”

“Well, don’t.”

“Fine, Malfoy,” Potter muttered, and he walked off, whispering something like ‘not as bad as he seems, yeah, right’ under his breath.

“Draco,” Severus called from behind Draco, and he turned. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Draco sighed. “Yes, Severus, I’m fine.”

Severus stared at him with an analytical gaze. “Draco, Dementors often affect people with trauma more strongly. Potter, I understand. But you have no trauma that would have caused you to act that way. At least, that I know of.”

Draco looked away from Severus’s searching eyes. “I don’t know why I reacted that way.”

“Yes, well, if you want to talk, you can come talk to me.”

Draco looked up. This was the closest Severus ever got to showing his care. “I know.”

Severus nodded. “Well, you should get to dinner.”

Draco nodded and turned to head to the Great Hall.

Draco sighed as he walked away. A couple hours in the past, and he was already attracting too much attention and acting suspicious. The sooner he and Neville got back to the future, the better.

Chapter Text

After dinner, Neville snuck off. It was still early, only seven o’clock, but Neville still headed to the Room of Requirement.

He needed some time to process everything.

Neville opened the door, and the room took the form of a comfortable sitting room similar to the Gryffindor Common Room but with a variety of colors instead of just red and gold. Windows overlooking the grounds appeared on the walls; Neville could see the Black Lake glistening in the night. Curtains were pulled aside and tied on each window. Rugs covered the floor so no inch of the stone was showing. Couches, some with side tables, were scattered around the room. Candles burned on some of the tables, filling the air with the aroma of cedar wood and vanilla.

Neville sighed heavily and sat down on a green couch in the center. He buried his head in his hands as he struggled to wrap his head around everything.

That morning, Neville had woken up, 27 years old, and went to St. Mungo’s to consult on a Herbology-related incident (a Chinese Chomping Cabbage had latched onto a person’s arm, and Neville had to use Essence of Sweetenesque to coax it off), only to run into Draco Malfoy (who was apparently a Healer. Not the career Neville would’ve expected for the once cruel bully who had no problem causing harm). Then, Theodore Nott, covered in boils and burns and seemingly consumed by madness, dropped a Time Turner (that clearly wasn’t a normal Time Turner), and a second later, Neville and Draco were in their third year at Hogwarts again, in their thirteen year old bodies.

It was a lot to take in.

Then, there was the issue of what they were going to do now.

First of all, there was the issue of changing the future. Could they even do that? Neville didn’t know a lot about time travel, but he had seen Back To The Future, and he knew that changing the past to change the future was a big no-no. It could have severe repercussions, like the whole Butterfly Effect thing. They could make things worse- much worse- if they tried to change anything. They could create a world where Voldemort won, where Harry actually died, where tons of people who hadn’t died in the first timeline did in this one.

But could Neville really just sit back and watch as the war raged and people died when he and Draco had the knowledge to save them? Fred Weasley, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Lavender Brown, Cedric Diggory. How many people had died? How many people were going to die if Neville and Draco didn’t do anything?

They had the knowledge. Hermione, Ron, and Harry had told him about the Horcruxes, what had happened at the graveyard in fourth year (those three had a lot to vent, and Neville was happy- okay, happy was a strong word. A lot of their tales were downright scary- to be a friend and listen), the prophecy. They could change everything.

Or they could change nothing.

The door opened, and Draco slipped in, looking over his shoulder to make sure no one had seen him.

Draco closed the door behind him and turned to Neville.

“We need to figure out what to do,” Draco said without preamble.

Neville nodded. “I’m thinking.”

“We need to figure out a way back to the future,” Draco said, which surprised Neville.

“Are we sure it’s even possible?” Neville asked.

Draco frowned. “What do you mean? Of course it’s possible. It has to be!”

“Well, think about it, that Time Turner Nott had, it was clearly advanced and it was likely the Ministry didn’t know about it,” Neville pointed out. “A regular Time Turner couldn’t have gone back this far. Nott would’ve spent years trying to make something even the Time Department hadn’t figured out. And it was destroyed!”

“So we make a new one,” Draco said, desperation starting to creep into his voice.

“Do either of us know how to do that? And even if we did, it would take years. Not to mention the future could’ve just… disappeared when we time traveled. The slightest change could’ve upset the timeline, and I’m pretty sure we’re past that.”

That’s right. Neville and Draco weren’t supposed to be friends. Draco wasn’t supposed to pass out on the train. They weren’t supposed to meet Professor Lupin until they arrived at Hogwarts. Who knows how these seemingly small changes had affected the timeline?

Neville had been worrying about how changing things would affect the future, but what if they had already changed things?

“So we’re stuck here?” Draco almost yelled. Luckily, the Room of Requirement was sound proof.

Neville nodded reluctantly. “I think we are.”

“That means… we’ll have to live through the war again,” Draco said, and his voice cracked as panic crept in. “All the death, the torture. I was a Death Eater! I can’t go through that again, Neville! I can’t!”

Draco was breathing faster, and his hand frantically clawed at his chest as he tried to catch his breath.

“Draco!” Neville exclaimed as he stood up. “Draco, breathe!”

“I-I can’t,” Draco gasped.

“Yes, you can,” Neville said firmly. “You’re having a panic attack.”

“I-I know, but-“

“You’ve had them before,” Neville said. It wasn’t a question.

Draco nodded shakily.

“You’ve gotten through this before. You can get through it again. Can you tell me where you are?”

“R-Room of Requirement,” Draco answered.

“Good. Now tell me five things you can see,” Neville said as he led Draco to sit on the green couch.

Draco looked around. “The curtains. The couches. The windows. Th-The side tables. I can see the black lake out the window.”

“Good. Now four things you can feel.”

“M-My robes. The couch. My shoes. I have a lot of gel in my hair,” Draco added as he ran his hands through his gelled hair, messing it up slightly.

“Three things you can hear.”

“Y-You. My breathing. My heartbeat.”

“Something you can smell.”

“The candles. They smell like some kind of wood and vanilla.”

“Good. You did good, Draco.”

“Calmer,” Draco said, sounding surprised. “H-How did you know that would work?”

“It helps me most of the time. That and describing an object in detail. It helps ground me, remind me of where I am and that I’m not back… there,” Neville said, and they both knew he was talking about the Battle of Hogwarts.

“Thanks, Neville,” Draco said.

They both sat in silence for a couple of minutes, Neville allowing Draco to calm down further before they resumed the conversation.

“So we’re stuck here,” Draco finally said, “and we have to go through everything again.”

“Yeah,” Neville replied, “But maybe… we can change it.”

“Change it?” Draco echoed. “But couldn’t that make things worse?”

“Yeah,” Neville agreed. “But can either of us really just sit back and let things play out the same way it did last time?”

Draco looked down at the ground. “I can’t be a Death Eater again.”

“So you don’t have to. We could change things for the better. We could maybe even… stop Voldemort.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “What? You want us to try to stop the Dark Lord? Are you crazy?”

“Maybe,” Neville admitted, “But Draco, so many people died. And Harry, Hermione, and Ron have told me a lot. We could actually-“

“No!” Draco said. “I’m not a Gryffindor, Neville!”

“Who says you have to be?” Neville asked.

“Uh, everyone!” Draco responded. “Do you think it’s a coincidence that all the heroes of the war were Gryffindor? No, it’s because you’re brave and reckless enough to save the world. Slytherins aren’t!”

“They can be! There were lots of Slytherins on the Light Side.”

Draco looked at him in disbelief. “Lots of Slytherins?”

Neville shrugged. “There were some.”

“But I’m not brave, Neville. I’m not willing to risk my life or my family’s lives to defeat the Dark Lord.”

“So what?” Neville shouted. “You’ll just go about your life while people are dying? Or maybe you’ll be a Death Eater again, torturing people, killing people? Is that really what you want?”

“No!” Draco yelled. “But I don’t want to die either.”

“Didn’t Voldemort threaten to kill you and your family every other day? You risk your life either way!”

Draco was quiet for a moment.

“I-I just can’t, Neville. I’m not brave like Potter or-or you! I’m just Draco Malfoy, complete and utter coward.”

“Draco,” Neville started.

“No, I-I have to go before the Slytherins start wondering where I’m at.”

Draco turned and headed for the door. He opened it and paused.

He looked back at Neville. “I am sorry, Neville.”

He closed the door behind him.

Draco walked up to the wall that led to the Slytherin Common Room.

“Pureblood,” he said. He couldn’t believe how obvious their passwords were looking back. Weasley could’ve figured them out.

The wall moved aside, the stones disassembling and reassembling after he walked through.

“Hey, Draco, where’ve you been?” Goyle asked from where he was playing what looked like poker with Crabbe and Zabini.

“Library,” Draco lied. “Head start on homework.”

“Seriously, it’s the first night!” Pansy exclaimed. “Everyone knows we don’t even do anything the first week. It’s why it’s called Syllabus Week.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Well, I actually care about my studies, Pansy.”

Pansy shrugged. “I prefer to live a little.”

Draco sat down on the couch beside her, and he cringed a little when she crowded into his space. She grabbed onto his arm, and if he hadn’t been wearing robes, he was sure her nails would’ve been digging into his skin.

“Come on, Draco, have some fun!” She laughed. “Zabini even snuck in a bottle of Firewhiskey.”

“I think I’ll pass,” Draco said. He’d had enough of a trying night without getting drunk and being hungover on the first day of classes.

“I don’t know why you try, Pansy. We all know Draco’s a giant buzzkill,” Zabini said, moving his cards around.

“I am not, you asshole,” Draco said good-naturedly.

“Says the one who just spent their first night back at Hogwarts in the library,” Zabini said.

Draco stood up, dislodging Pansy from his side.

“Hey, where are you going?” Pansy asked.

“Back to the library. At least there I can get some peace and quiet,” Draco bit, walking out of the Common Room.

“Geesh, what’s his problem?” He heard Crabbe ask as the wall closed behind him.

Draco sighed in relief, and the minute he rounded the corner out of the hallway, he leaned against the wall and sunk to the floor.

Seeing them again was tiring. In the future, Crabbe was dead; Goyle had left England; Pansy had married Cassius Warrington and had a bunch of kids, and Draco rarely saw her (they hadn’t exactly left their relationship-if you can call it that- on the best terms); and Zabini was an Unspeakable, so people rarely saw him at all.

Once, they had been his best friends, but Draco had grown up and realized how toxic their friendship had actually been. Draco had treated Crabbe and Goyle more like henchman, and Pansy was a convenient fling to hide the fact he was gay. Draco had barely known Zabini, but they’d watched each other’s backs when it was convenient for them.

Draco was still coming to terms with the fact that he’d never had any real friends.

Draco buried his head in his knees with a sigh. It was all so messed up.

And now he was going to have to live everything again. The violence, the torture, the death.

The walls of Hogwarts faded away, replaced by Malfoy Manor. The gray, sleek stone, green and silver and black everywhere, much drearier than Draco’s childhood home had once been. Hermione’s tortured screams filled his ears, mingling with Bellatrix’s maniacal laugh as Bellatrix pierced the knife into Hermione’s forearm. Draco covered his ears, and he didn’t even realize he was crying until a tear dripped from his face onto the ground.

He couldn’t do this again, he couldn’t do this again, he couldn’t do this again.

“Hey, you okay?” The words were muffled by Draco’s hands over his ears, but Draco still heard them.

He looked up. Through blurry vision, he could see a tall student standing over him with yellow on their uniform.

“I-I’m fine,” Draco stammered, but the tears on his face and his hands still over his ears said otherwise.

He wanted nothing more than for the student to go away, but instead, the student sat beside him.

“You’re a third year, right? Draco Malfoy,” the student recognized. “I remember my third year. It was a crazy year for me, taking new electives. I took Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures. Honestly, I thought Muggle Studies would be an easy class, but it definitely wasn’t. Professor Sikander is brutal with the homework. We once had to write a whole essay- 10 inches!- on Slinkies.”

Draco looked at the student in confusion. He barely noticed his breathing and heartbeat slowing down as he was overcome with bewilderment.

“What’s a… Slink-y?” Draco asked.

“Oh, it’s this Muggle thing that’s made of metal. It’s like, well… here.”

The student picked up a random rock off the ground.

“Saxum muta in Slinkie.”

The rock transformed into a metal object where metal ropes wound around each other to form a kind of spiral.

The student handed the Slinkie to Draco, who accepted it and stared at in amazement.

He pulled on the ends of the Slinkie experimentally, and the spiral expanded.

His eyes widened. “Woah!”

“Amazing, right?” The student said. “And watch this.”

“Inanimatus Conjurus Ramp,” the student said, and a small ramp appeared on the ground.

The student took the Slinkie and held it over the top of the ramp. Then, he dropped it and the Slinkie started moving down the ramp on its own! The bottom would hit the ramp and the top of the Slinkie would fall forward with gravity, causing the spiral to expand and form a kind of archway. The Slinkie continued to fall down the ramp until it rested at the bottom.

“That’s awesome! Muggles made these?” Draco exclaimed. He picked up the Slinkie again and placed it at the top of the ramp, allowing it to fall again.

“Yeah, they actually make a lot of cool things without magic.”

“Wow,” Draco murmured. He’d always been told Muggles were stupid and inferior, but they could actually create these things without magic! Draco couldn’t imagine having to build something like this from scratch with no wand to speak of.

“You can keep it,” the student said.

“Thank you,” Draco said, turning to the student and finally seeing them fully now that his tears had dried.

And he found himself staring at a ghost.

“No problem. I’m Cedric Diggory,” Cedric said, holding out his hand.

“I’m Draco Malfoy,” Draco introduced himself, even though Cedric already knew who he was, because it was only polite.

“You gonna be okay?”

Draco blushed a little in embarrassment. “Yeah, I’m fine now. Thanks.”

“Again, no problem. I have to continue my rounds now, but I’ll see you around Draco,” Cedric said as he stood up and walked down the hall.

Draco stared at Cedric until long after he was out of sight, and then he stood up.

“Tempus,” Draco cast.

September 1st, 9:01 pm.

The library was open until eleven when the curfew went into place. Draco had time.

So he went to the library to research more into time travel, more specifically how changing the past could affect the future and to decide if it was worth the risk.

Chapter Text

Draco continued fiddling with the Slinkie, still amazed Muggles could invent any device without magic, while he scoured the library for books on Time Travel.

Turns out, the library had a whole section on Time Travel, one Draco had never visited before, and had books such as Beginner’s Guide To Time Turners, Time Travel and Arithmancy, Time Theory, Everything You Need To Know About Time Traveling, and many more.

Draco had his work cut out for him.

Draco sat at the table and opened the first one, getting straight to work.

If he was going to complete his plan of getting back to the future, he’d need a Time Turner. Unfortunately, Draco did not have one, and there was only one way he knew to get one…

Knock, knock, knock.

“Enter,” was called stiffly from inside, and Draco opened the door.

“Draco, what a surprise,” Severus stated in a pleasant tone of voice. Good, he was in a good mood. That would work well for Draco’s plan.

“Hello, godfather,” Draco greeted, sitting across from him.

“Would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please.”

Severus poured some tea into a cup and placed it on the desk across from Draco. Draco took a sip, trying to appear as casual as ever.

“What brings you to my office so late?” Severus asked.

“I wanted to discuss my electives,” Draco replied. “I wish to add some.”

“Which ones?”

“All of them.”

Severus’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that so? Even Muggle Studies?”

“Yes. Do you think it can be arranged?”

“I don’t see why not. It’s been arranged for other students in the past. But why the sudden interest in taking all electives?”

“Well, they’re just all so interesting, and I have been considering a path in the Ministry when I get older, but I’m not sure which one. It’s why I want to take all the electives- to explore my options and see which interests me most to help me pick a future career path.”

“For most of the electives, I can see that, but you’ve never shown an interest in Muggle Studies before,” Severus stated, still baffled. “In fact, you’ve shown outright distaste for it.”

“Yes, well, an older student showed me this.” Draco brought the Slinkie out of his robes, and the corners of Severus’s mouth twitched, which was the closest he ever got to a laugh. “I thought it was fascinating that Muggles can create things without magic. I even read about something called a Telly once, which is apparently a box that displays pictures and makes sounds to tell stories. It’s just like magic! It’s just amazing. So even though I’m still not a fan of Muggles,” Draco forced himself to spit the word with no small amount of venom. He had grown more tolerant of Muggles and Muggleborns in recent years; after seeing them tortured, he couldn’t bring himself to still hate them when they felt pain like everyone else. “I am interested in how they’re able to create things without magic.”

Severus nodded. “It is quite interesting, I suppose. But… you know I will have to contact your parents about this. I’m not sure they’ll be pleased.”

“I know,” Draco said. He had thought of that, and it was a big obstacle to maneuver around, but it would be worth it when he’d be back in the future where the weight of the world didn’t rest on his and one other person’s shoulders.

Ugh, is this how Potter always felt? Like one misstep could doom everyone?

“I just ask that you wait a day so I can mail them and tell them myself,” Draco said.

Severus nodded. “Yes, well, it will take time to arrange the necessary paperwork for you to take all the electives, so I likely won’t be able to mail them for a day or two.”

Draco nodded.

“Now, there is one thing about taking so many electives. Some of your classes will overlap.”

Draco, who already knew that, furrowed his brow. “Then, how will I take them all?”

“I will need to get you a Time Turner from the Ministry.” Severus’s expression became stern. “Having a Time Turner is a tremendous responsibility. You are only to use it to attend classes. If you are caught using it for anything else, it will be immediately confiscated. Am I understood?”

“Yes,” Draco replied.

“Then, I will mail the Ministry, and it should be here by tomorrow morning. Come to my office before classes.”

“Thank you, Severus. Now for less classes talk, how was your summer?”

“It was good. And yours?”

“It was wonderful. Father let me go to the Ministry with him one day, where I learned the ins and outs of his job.”

“I’m assuming that’s what made you consider that career path?”

“Yes. Father just seemed to know so many people and do his job so well. He’s always wanted me to go into the Ministry, but it was the first time I actually wanted to do it.”

That was a bald faced lie. Lucius had taken him to the Ministry numerous times to try to ‘inspire’ him (more like pressure him) into taking that career path, but each trip to the Ministry had only cemented in Draco’s mind the fact that the Ministry wasn’t what Draco wanted to do with his life. For years, Draco hadn’t been sure what he’d wanted to do, but in his eighth year (which was really just a repeat of his seventh year without the school being run by Death Eaters), he’d discovered the Healing Path and he knew he’d go that route again. Still, wanting to go into the Ministry was a good cover up for him wanting to take twelve classes.

They talked for a while about their summers, and then they got on the topic of Potions.

“I should prepare my classroom to have those idiot Gryffindors tomorrow,” Severus sighed. “I’m sure Potter will be an idiot, Longbottom will spectacularly mess up a Potion, and Finnegan will catch something on fire.”

While Draco couldn’t deny that possibility, and in the past he would’ve laughed at Severus’s comments, now it felt… wrong for a professor to badmouth his students like that. He wondered if that’s how McGonagall talked about him.

“Severus…” Draco asked hesitantly. “Why do you hate the Gryffindors so much?”

Severus raised an eyebrow as he sipped his tea. “The same reason you do. Old school rivalry.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I still don’t like Potter-“ they weren’t friends, but Potter had spoken for Draco at his trial, so it wasn’t like Draco disliked him anymore or got hung up on their school rivalry. There were just… bigger problems. “Or Gryffindor- they’re reckless idiots who hate Slytherins for no reason- but some of them don’t seem so bad. Longbottom seems nice.”

Severus stared at him, blinking. “Are you becoming… friends with Mr. Longbottom?”

“What? No, of course not.” Because the Draco Malfoy Severus knew would never be friends with Neville Longbottom. “But he helped me out on the train when the Dementor came into the compartment, even after how I’ve treated him. It just made me think… maybe he’s not so bad.”

“Perhaps,” Severus reluctantly agreed, although his lip still curled up at even barely complimenting a Gryffindor.

“He’s still bad at Potions, though,” Draco added, which was true. He remembered more than a couple of Longbottom’s potioning mistakes.

“Oh, atrocious,” Severus agreed.

They sipped their tea and continued talking for a while about a variety of topics before Draco finally yawned at close to midnight.

“You should get some sleep. First day of classes tomorrow,” Severus pointed out.

“Yes, thank you, Severus. I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night.”

“You as well, Draco.”

Draco walked out of the room and sighed in relief. Time Turner would be acquired tomorrow.

Meanwhile, Neville was contemplating life in the Gryffindor Common Room.

They would have to live everything again. Neville couldn’t even be mad at Draco for being distressed. Neville didn’t want to relieve the war again, and he certainly didn’t want to risk making everything worse, but what else could he do? He was a Gryffindor at heart. He couldn’t just let people die if he could even possibly prevent it.

“Neville?”

Neville looked up to see Harry coming downstairs to the otherwise empty Gryffindor Common Room, still dressed in his pajamas.

“Hey, Harry,” Neville greeted. “Can’t sleep?”

“No, I never can on the first day of Hogwarts,” Harry said. “What are you doing up?”

“Can’t sleep either,” Neville said. “Too much on my mind.”

“Like what?” Harry asked as he sat down in an armchair across from Neville.

Neville saw his first opportunity to fix something. This year was third year, which meant Sirius Black was about, and one of the things Harry had told him was how frustrating it was that nobody ever told him anything. Not just in third year but in every year. How much could Harry have done if he had just been a little more in the know? Maybe Neville could start by fixing that.

“Aren’t you scared?” Neville asked in a genuinely curious voice.

“About what?” Harry questioned.

“Sirius Black!” Neville whispered in a conspiratorial way.

Harry frowned. “Why would I be scared of him?”

“Because everyone says he’s after you!”

Harry’s eyes widened. “What?”

“You don’t know?” Neville asked.

“Evidentially not, Neville. What are you talking about?”

“It’s all my Gran’s talked about all summer,” Neville said. “Apparently, Sirius Black is the one who ratted out your parents to V-You Know Who… or so they say.”

Harry slumped back in his chair like Neville had just sucker punched him. “What? He’s the one who…”

“Well, there was a lot of assuming going on at the Ministry at the time,” Neville added to plant that bit of doubt in Harry’s mind. “But from what they know, Sirius Black was your parent’s Secret Keeper, which means he was the only one who knew their location. It’s like a magical spell that keeps a secret within one person, unless the secret keeper chooses to tell someone. Everyone thinks Sirius Black was your parent’s Secret Keeper and he was the one who told Voldemort where they were.”

“Thinks?” Harry asked.

“Well, Sirius never had a trial before he was arrested, but everyone thinks he did it, so they arrested him, but not before he went after another friend of your parents’, Peter Pettigrew, and killed him and twelve Muggles. Again, supposedly. Like I said, there was a lot of assuming going on.”

“B-But nobody told me,” Harry stammered. “A mass murderer is after me… to what? Finish the job? And nobody thought to mention this?”

“I think they were just trying to not scare you,” Neville said, trying to soften the blow a bit, but the blow was harsh anyway. After all, Harry had been lied to by a lot of people for years in Neville’s time, information kept from him that he deserved to know. This was only some of that.

“I should be scared. What if he gets into Hogwarts?” Harry asked.

“Unlikely,” Neville lied because Sirius Black did get into Hogwarts (twice!) and even Gryffindor Tower (because of Neville’s passwords). “But if he did, the professors would protect you. Not to mention Dementors are guarding the school.”

“Oh, yeah, they make me feel really safe,” Harry said, sarcastically.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Neville said. Sorry everyone lied to you, sorry you had to hear it from someone you barely knew instead of the adults in your life, sorry you’re in the middle of every dangerous situation to begin with.

“For what?” Harry asked. “You’re the only one who told me the truth. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Neville nodded. “No problem.”

“I, um, I’m going to bed,” Harry said, which Neville was sure was code for ‘I need time to think.’

Neville nodded. “I’ll be up soon. Goodnight, Harry.”

Neville still had some of his own thinking to do, like panicking over the fact that he had just officially made a big change in the timeline.

And wondering what he was going to do about Draco.

Chapter Text

The next morning, after retrieving his Time Turner, Draco went to his first class- Divination.

Divination should be cinch, considering his future knowledge, but there was also the question of whether or not he should use it.

If he used his future knowledge too much, it would draw attention and suspicion to him, but then again, it would be an easy O.

The decisions of being a time traveler, Draco thought sarcastically. Seriously, he was trying to figure out how to get back to the future, trying to figure out if he should help Neville and risk making everything worse, and trying to figure out what to do about Buckbeak later in the day, and that’s what he was thinking about at that moment.

He decided to just kind of go with it and see if he should use his knowledge or not. Probably not, but it sucked that he couldn’t just get that easy O with actual knowledge of the future.

Draco climbed the ladder and when he turned around, he saw Hermione right behind him. She grabbed the edge of the trap door and started to pull herself up when her foot suddenly slipped, and she almost fell back down the ladder into Harry and Ron behind her. Without thinking about it, Draco hurriedly grabbed her wrist and pulled her up.

“Thanks,” Hermione said, brushing herself off, and she sounded genuinely thankful until she looked up and saw who had helped her. “Malfoy,” she added begrudgingly.

“Granger,” Draco replied as Harry and Ron climbed through the trap door and glared at him, but there was a hint of surprise in their eyes.

Old Draco would’ve let Hermione fall and laugh at her to boot.

They quickly went their separate ways, and the Golden Trio, as so many people had dubbed them, sat in the front of the room while Draco sat in the back. He needed to take all the classes to get the Time Turner (in fact, after this class, he’d be using the Time Turner to go to Muggle Studies), but he also knew he had to avoid suspicion.

Draco looked up as someone sat beside him, and he was surprised to see Neville.

Draco looked back down at his textbook. “I’m still not helping you.”

“I know, but like it or not, we’re stuck together. I have to make sure you don’t do anything stupid like tamper with a Time Turner or tell everyone we’re time travelers,” Neville whispered.

“Me do something stupid?” Draco hissed. “Who’s the one who once melted an entire cauldron in Potions class? Or left a list of passwords to Gryffindor Tower lying around with Sirius Black on the loose?”

“It was an honest mistake!”

“Which one?”

“Both!”

“Students!” Professor Trelawney clapped her hands to get their attention, and everyone quieted. “Good to see you on the physical plane at last,” she said dreamily.

Draco raised an eyebrow and looked at Neville. Neville twirled his finger near his head in a ‘crazy’ gesture. Draco nodded.

“My name is Professor Trelawney. You may not have seen me before. I’m afraid descending into the hustle and bustle of the main school clouds my inner eye too much. So you have chosen to study Divination, the most difficult of all the magical arts. I must warn you that if you do not have the Sight, there is very little I will be able to teach you. Books can only take you so far in this field. Many witches and wizards, talented as they are at loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future. It is a Gift granted to few. You, boy,” She suddenly said to Neville, who jumped. He had forgotten she’d addressed him on the first day of class. “Is your grandmother well?”

“Yes,” Neville said.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said.

Neville rolled his eyes and whispered to Draco, “She was still kicking ten years in the future.”

Draco chuckled quietly.

“And you!” She shouted, pointing to Draco. “Things with your girlfriend going well?”

The class laughed, and Draco resisted the urge to blush. Malfoys do not blush.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Draco said.

“Not yet,” Professor Trelawney countered.

“Not ever,” Draco muttered, at which Neville looked at him curiously. He thought Draco and Pansy Parkinson had a thing.

“We will be discovering the basics of Divination this year. We will start with reading tea leaves and then we will progress to palmistry. Then, the crystal ball- if we have finished with fire omens. By the way, my dear,” she said to Parvati, “beware a red haired man.”

Parvati glanced at Ron and shifted away from him. Draco snickered.

“Unfortunately, classes will be disrupted in February by a nasty bout of flu. I myself will lose my voice. Then, around Easter, one of our own will leave us forever.”

“On that cheery note,” Draco muttered, and Neville laughed.

“You think this is funny, do you, dear?” Professor Trelawney said, not angrily, more like she was stating a fact. “Well, Divination can be the decider between life and death, between building and destruction, a warning and a reassurance. It is a double edged sword, one that should be wielded wisely.”

“Dear, would you pass me the silver tea pot?” She said to Lavender, who nodded and handed it to her.

“As I said, we will start by reading tea leaves. Please open your books to page 59. This is the chart of different shapes you might find in the tea leaves.”

The class did so as Trelawney poured tea into the glass on each of the students’ desks.

“Now, drink your tea and try to read your partner’s leaves,” she instructed.

For a moment, there was the sound of very annoying slurping as everyone drank their tea.

Neville looked into his cup. “It just looks like a bunch of leaves to me.”

Draco and Neville traded cups, and Draco peered into Neville’s cup, scrutinizing the shapes.

“I see a stick,” Draco said unhelpfully.

“I see… an animal, maybe? It just looks like a blob.”

“Let me see, dear.” Professor Trelawney seemed to appear out of no where and held out her hand for Neville’s cup still in Draco’s hands. He handed it to her, not really expecting anything to come out of this.

“A club,” she told Neville. “Brush up on your defensive skills. A fight may be coming. And it seems to be next to an ivy leaf. That means faithful friends will help you on your journey.”

She gave Neville back his cup and turned to Draco. “Now, for you,” she said, taking Draco’s cup from Neville.

“Oh, you have the ivy leaf, too. Maybe you too are meant to be the faithful friends.”

“Yeah, right?” Draco scoffed. “Me and Longbottom, friends? Never.”

Neville looked a little hurt at that, and Draco felt a little bad, but he was just being honest! He and Neville could never be friends. Allies, maybe. Friends, never.

“You also have a bat. That means you’ll have a fruitless project. I’d reevaluate whether any projects are worth your time and energy.”

She-she couldn’t mean Time Turner, could she? No, no way, Professor Trelawney wasn’t even an actual Seer. She was a loon, a fake. She wasn’t-

Crash!

Everyone jumped as the cup in Professor Trewlany’s hands smashed to the floor. Her eyes stared off into the distance, and she seemed like she didn’t even know where she was. When she spoke, her voice came out raspy.

The Time crossed two shall set out to find the seven
Six in their hands while the Dark Lord stands
The hourglass spills, and the sand flows in one direction
Reweaving the tapestry of fate, hand in hand.
The snake will be lost and found.
The missed one will be missed again.

Everyone stared at Professor Trelawney as she blinked and came back to herself. When she spoke, her voice was normal again.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I must’ve dozed off,” she said. “Where was I?”

Draco and Neville turned to each other, fear and confusion reflected in each other’s eyes.

“Do you think she just gave an actual prophecy?” Neville whispered in the hallway after Divination.

“It looked like it,” Draco said. “It’s obviously about us- I mean, time crossed, hourglass.”

“But what does the rest of it mean? Maybe… this means we are meant to change things,” Neville said. “The prophecy said reweaving the tapestry of fate.”

“But it also said the sand flows in one direction. Assuming the sand is the timeline, it might mean we try to change things and can’t change anything at all,” Draco argued.

“Malfoy, I know you’re scared-“

“I should be, and you should be, too. This isn’t a school ground bully, Longbottom. This is the Dark Lord. Saint Potter barely managed to defeat him, and you want us to give it the old Hogwarts try? No, there’s not a chance.”

“There’s always a chance!”

“Not this time,” Draco said. “I have to get to Transfiguration.”

With that, Draco walked off, leaving Neville standing in the empty corridor.

Once Draco rounded the corner, he pulled out his Time Turner. He examined it carefully, staring at the sand swirling inside the glass.

He had to go to Muggle Studies and later today, he would begin his research.

Later that day, Draco walked to Care of Magical Creatures like a man walking to his death.

“What’s up with you?” Crabbe asked in a surprisingly perceptive moment. “You’re acting like COMC is a death sentence.”

“It might as well be with that oaf teaching,” Draco pointed out.

Don’t get Draco wrong, he didn’t care about Hagrid being a half giant or even being the groundskeeper anymore, but he didn’t want him as a teacher. Seriously, one of his students got maimed on the first day of class! Draco couldn’t deny it was his fault, but a part of him still held it against Hagrid that he had been scarred by a Hippogriph in his class.

“Yeah, a half giant as a teacher?” Pansy sneered. “Give me a break. Dumbledore just didn’t want to find somebody competent.”

And well, Draco couldn’t argue with that.

But as long as he kept his head down and kept his mouth shut, the class should go okay.

Neville honestly wasn’t sure how this class was going to end. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t even be taking COMC, but it was one of the easiest classes. Neville, even ten years in the future, wasn’t smart enough for Arithmacy or Ancient Runes, so he was stuck with Care of Magical Creatures and Divination.

There was also the fact that this class might end with Malfoy in the Hospital Wing and a Hippogriph being led to the slaughter. That also put a damper on things.

“‘Ello, class!” Hagrid said. “Everyone, open your books to page 13.”

“Uh, how?” Pansy asked, holding up her book, which snarled. Pansy jumped and almost dropped it.

“No one knows how to open the book?” Hagrid asked, sounding very disappointed.

Without thinking about it, Neville tickled the spine, and the book opened easily with a purr.

“Oh, Mr. Longbottom’s got it!” Hagrid exclaimed in relief.

Everyone turned to him, and Neville froze. He looked down shyly.

“Just tickle the spine and you’ve got it,” Hagrid explained, and everyone did so, marveling as the books opened easily.

“Now, anyone know what these are?” Hagrid asked.

Hagrid gestured to a paddock of Hippogriphs. They were milling around, sometimes squawking at each other. They towered over the students, and Neville shifted uneasily, remembering talons ripping through Malfoy’s arm like it was made of paper.

“Hippogriphs,” Hermione answered.

“Five points to Gryffindor, Her- Miss Granger,” Hagrid said with a kind smile. “Yes, these are ‘Ippogriphs. They’re very prideful creatures, so you’ll want to bow to them to show them respect. You know you’ve earned their respect if they bow back. Who would like to try it first?”

No one volunteered for a solid moment, and then, Neville felt a light shove against his back, causing him to stumble forward. He turned around and found Malfoy smirking at him.

“Mr. Longbottom, excellent!” Hagrid exclaimed.

“Uh, I-“ Neville started, but Hagrid just clapped a huge hand on his shoulder and guided him over to one of the Hippogriphs.

“This here is Buckbeak,” Hagrid said, and Neville looked at him in alarm. Wasn’t that the one who slashed Malfoy? Sure, it was Malfoy’s fault for insulting the Hippogriph, but Neville still didn’t want to be near it. “It’s okay, Mr. Longbottom.”

“Are you sure about that?” Neville asked nervously, and the class laughed.

“Positive. Just bow to him and show him respect,” Hagrid said, taking a step back.

Neville took a cautious step towards Buckbeak, who huffed and tossed his head. Neville, without taking his eyes off Buckbeak, bent forward at the waist into a bow. When Buckbeak stared at him with scrutinizing eyes, Neville lowered his own eyes to the ground, bracing himself for whatever was to come.

The class started to cheer, and Neville looked up in surprise to see Buckbeak bowing back.

“Good job, Neville. Now climb onto his back,” Hagrid said.

“What?!” Neville exclaimed, but before he could argue, Buckbeak was grabbing him by the back of his robes and depositing him on his back. Neville squeaked and wrapped his arms around Buckbeak’s neck on instinct so he wouldn’t fall off.

“Oh, that works, too,” Hagrid said. “Now Buckbeak’s just gonna fly you around the grounds.”

“Wait, I’m not so sure-“ Neville started, but Buckbeak was already taking off. Neville screamed and held on tighter, clenching his eyes shut.

Wind roared past his face. He could hear the loud, powerful beating of Buckbeak’s wings. A spray of water landed on his face, making Neville open his eyes in surprise.

They were flying over the Black Lake. Buckbeak’s wing dipped into the water, sending up another spray of water.

“Woah,” Neville whispered.

It wasn’t like flying on a broom, which was a good thing because Neville was never really very good at that. He knew Buckbeak wouldn’t let him fall, and instead of sitting on a lifeless piece of wood, the creature beneath him moved fluidly and elegantly.

“This is… amazing,” Neville whispered.

Buckbeak snorted arrogantly and looped around with Neville hanging on for dear life to come back to the Care of Magical Creatures class. Buckbeak landed gracefully, and Neville slid off his back.

“Thank you, Buckbeak,” Neville said.

“Good job, Neville,” Seamus Finnegan yelled, and the whole class cheered. Neville blushed bright red and lowered his head in embarrassment.

“Alright, everyone, let’s all try now!” Hagrid said, and all of the students scrambled over to the Hippogriphs. The only one hanging back was Draco.

Neville walked over to him. “Why’d you shove me?” Neville asked.

“Why do you think? For fun,” Draco responded. “Thought it’d be interesting to see someone other than Saint Potter get the limelight.”

“You know, Harry’s actually not that bad,” Neville pointed out.

“Oh, I know,” Draco said to his surprise. “Doesn’t mean I have to like him. Old school rivalries die hard.”

Neville laughed. “I suppose they do. But you should give the Hippogriphs a shot.”

“Do you not remember what happened last time?” Draco asked incredulously.

“Just don’t insult Buckbeak again, and I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Neville said.

“Nope, not risking it.”

Neville smirked. “Too late.”

Draco looked at him in confusion to see Neville staring at something over his shoulder. He turned and took a step back when he saw Buckbeak staring at him with his beady eyes.

They were locked in a staring contest for a few moments as Buckbeak seemed to stare into his soul.

Neville nudged him. “Bow,” Neville whispered.

Draco shakily moved into a bow, not taking his eyes off the Hippogriph. After a moment, he straightened back up and shrunk back, waiting for the talons.

Instead, Buckbeak bowed back after a moment of scrutinizing him.

Neville clapped a hand on his shoulder. “See, I told you you’d be fine. And it’s proof we can actually change history.”

“I suppose so,” Draco said, grateful he hadn’t been almost slashed to ribbons this time.

Maybe this changing history idea wasn’t a bad one, after all.

Chapter Text

The anatomy of a Time Turner

The Time Turner is composed of golden time sand, which is enchanted by an Hour Reversal Charm (comprised of several complex Ancient Runes to deter the replication of the charm), encased within a glass hourglass that is imprinted with several protective Ancient Runes to prevent the glass from shattering.

Clearly, Nott’s didn’t have those runes or the runes weren’t as protective as people thought, Draco thought bitterly, remembering how easily the hourglass shattered when it hit the floor.

Draco looked at the diagram of the Time Turner, which pointed out every part of it. The golden sand, made of a specific kind of dust only found in the highly dangerous caves of the Atlas Mountains and the only dust that could act as a conduit for the Hour Reversal Charm. The glass hourglass and the very elaborate Ancient Runes imprinted on the gold circle around it. There was nothing about the Ancient Runes that went into the Hour Reversal Charm, probably to keep people like Draco from replicating it.

Draco sighed and pushed the book away. He had to get to DADA. From what he could remember, they were doing Boggarts today.

Yay, Draco thought sarcastically.

Neville did not want to go to DADA today. He considered skipping but knew it would just prolong the inevitable, as facing the Boggart was a required part of his grade.

He had no idea what his Boggart would be. Would it still be Snape? Unlikely, Neville had faced a lot worse than the Potions Professor. Would it be Nagini? Would it be Bellatrix? Would it be his friends and family dead?

Neville didn’t know, but he was genuinely worried about traumatizing his classmates and further traumatizing himself.

“What do you think we’ll be doing today?” Ron asked as they walked to DADA.

For whatever reason, the Golden Trio had started asking him to tag along, which was strange because Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s friendship had always been an impenetrable one, like the gates of a castle. They didn’t let anyone in and no one came out (except for fourth year when they had some kind of falling out with Ron, which Neville didn’t know much about). And now, they seemed to be letting Neville in, even if only slightly.

It was strange and a little bit suspicious. The Golden Trio was too curious for their own good, and Neville worried one slip up could reveal his status as a Time Traveler or at least encourage them to dig further to find the truth. Neville couldn’t let that happen because the more people knew, the bigger target Neville painted on his and Draco’s backs.

“I heard from some of the Ravenclaws we’re facing something called Boggarts,” Harry said. “What are those, Mione?”

“Boggarts are an embodiment of fear,” Hermione answered. “They’re a creature that takes the shape of your worst fear. There’s a couple different ways to defeat them-“

Hermione went on a ramble, but Neville wasn’t listening. He was too busy wondering what his worst fear would be after everything he’d seen, everything he’d been through.

They walked into the staff room, where many of the students were already gathered.

“Hello, class!” Professor Lupin said as soon as everyone was in the room. “Everyone, inside!”

Professor Snape glared at them from an armchair in the corner. As Professor Lupin went to close the door, Professor Snape stood.

“Leave it open, Lupin. I’d rather not witness this. Oh, and I don’t know if anyone’s informed you, but this class includes Neville Longbottom. I wouldn’t entrust him with anything too difficult, not unless Granger is hissing instructions in his ear.”

And Neville, well, Neville couldn’t help it. He’d waited sixteen years for the opportunity to stand up to Snape.

“I believe I am perfectly capable, sir, but thank you for your input,” Neville said sarcastically.

The whole class whipped around to face him, shock in their eyes as timid Neville Longbottom stood up to the most intimidating professor. Even the Slytherins were intimidated by Snape and didn’t dare talk back to him!

Snape’s eyebrows shot up. “Twenty points from Gryffindor,” he snapped as he left the room with a flourish of his cloak like the drama queen he was.

“Worth it,” Neville whispered to the Golden Trio, who snickered.

“Neville, would you like to assist me with the first part of this demonstration?” Professor Lupin asked.

Neville’s eyes widened slightly. He should’ve known better than to draw attention to himself, but if memory served, he had gone first last time, so there was really no avoiding it.

Neville stepped up. The boggart in the wardrobe banged against the doors, sensing a victim.

“Nothing to worry about,” Professor Lupin said as everyone flinched back. “There’s a Boggart in there. The first question is what is a Boggart?”

Hermione’s hand shot up. “It’s a shapeshifter,” she answered. “It takes the form of whatever it thinks will frighten the person most.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Lupin replied. “Yes, a Boggart is a shapeshifter that focuses on the person’s worst fear. But we already have an advantage over it. Harry, can you guess what that is?”

“Uh, because there’s so many of us, it won’t know what shape to take,” Harry guessed.

“Exactly,” Professor Lupin said. “It’s always best to have company when facing a Boggart. He becomes confused. Should he become a headless corpse or a flesh eating slug? I once saw a Boggart make that mistake once. He tried to frighten two people at once and turned himself into half a slug. Not remotely frightening.

“The charm that really repels the Boggart is simple but requires force of mind. What really defeats a Boggart is laughter. We’ll practice the charm without wands first. Repeat after me- Riddikulus!”

“Riddikulus!” The class repeated.

“Now, Neville, what would you say frightens you most in the world?”

“I don’t know, professor,” Neville answered honestly. He had a lot of things to fear. Which one would the Boggart prey on?

“Well, let’s find out and practice the charm,” Professor Lupin said and then without warning, he opened the wardrobe.

A black mass of fog erupted from the wardrobe, shifting and whirling like a tornado until it finally took shape.

Bellatrix Lestrange stood in front of Neville with a maniacal smile. She turned her wand over in her talon-like nails. Then, she raised the wand and with a crazy, insane, utterly ear piercing laugh, she said, “Cruc-“

“Riddikulus!” Neville shouted before she could finish the word.

Bellatrix’s wand turned into a rubber chicken, and her Black Death Eater robes changed into a pink ballerina outfit. Her black curls went up into pigtails tied with ribbons, and her face was painted with clown makeup.

Neville stepped back, and the Boggart immediately retreated into the wardrobe. The class was laughing, none of them realizing the gravity of what they’d just witnessed. Neville, Draco, and Professor Lupin were the only ones not laughing.

“V-Very good, Neville,” Professor Lupin stammered, sounding nervous.

The next person stepped up, emboldened by Neville’s success, and Neville took the opportunity to fade into the background, something he did best.

The class went on.

Draco hung at the back of the room, hoping Lupin and the rest of the class would forget about him, but one person didn’t.

Saint Potter came to stand behind him in the line.

“Scared, Malfoy?” Potter asked.

“In your dreams, Potter,” Draco replied snarkily, trying not to show how terrified he actually was.

Would the Boggart show Voldemort? Or Dumbledore about to die? Or the Dark Mark floating in front of Draco with all it represented? Would it show his father-

“Next up. Come along, lad,” Professor Lupin said as he gently urged Draco forward.

Draco stared at the wardrobe, his heart pounding in his chest. His grip tightened on his wand, but his palms were sweaty and he was worried he would drop his wand- that would be rather embarrassing.

The Boggart emerged from the wardrobe in a cloud of black fog, and it shifted as it took shape.

Draco’s heart dropped to his shoes, and this time, he actually did drop his wand.

His own face stared back at him. The other Draco was dressed in Death Eater robes with a Death Eater mask hanging from his neck. The Dark Mark stood emblazoned on his left forearm for the whole room to see.

The class quieted, some of them having no idea what they were witnessing and others knowing all too well.

Professor Lupin stepped forward, but Draco’s expression hardened. He would already have to face questions and maybe even suspicion for his worst fear. He would not face embarrassment for having to be saved by a professor.

Draco scooped up his wand and pointed it at the Boggart.

“Riddikulus!”

The other Draco’s death eater robes changed into a fuzzy bathrobe, and his hair turned bright pink. His Death Eater mask changed to a clown mask, and the Dark Mark on his arm was replaced by a tattoo of a rainbow.

The Boggart retreated into the wardrobe while the class laughed, but it was a nervous laugh. No one was really sure what to think.

When the next person-Harry Potter- stepped up, Draco moved to the side of the room as everyone focused on Harry, grabbed his bag, and fled from the room.

He didn’t notice Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom staring after him, one with a confused stare and the other with a knowing one.

He also didn’t notice Professor Lupin nearly falling into an arm chair in shock. He clearly hadn’t been expecting such a fear in a thirteen year old.

He hadn’t met Draco yet.

He also didn’t notice Neville Longbottom slip out of the room behind him.

Draco ran out of the castle and almost collapsed on the shores of the Black Lake. His heart was pounding out of his chest, and his mind was overwhelmed by panic. He buried his head in his hands, trying to breathe through the all consuming fear.

What if history repeated itself? Draco couldn’t be a Death Eater again, but what if fate dictated it and he would again end up with a Mark on his arm? What if he would have to see people killed and tortured all over again? What if he became the monster everyone thought him to be again?

A hand landed on his shoulder, and Draco jumped, seeing his father with a wand pointed at him, yelling at Draco to not disappoint him.

Neville hurriedly retracted his hand and raised his hands in the universal I mean no harm gesture.

“Draco, you okay?” Neville asked.

Draco wasn’t sure why he shook his head or why he trusted Neville enough to tell the truth, but it all came pouring out.

“What if the future is set in stone? What if that’s my future?” Draco asked, meaning the Boggart.

“It’s not,” Neville said. “We can change it.”

“You don’t know that,” Draco said.

“We’ve already changed things!”

“How do we know it doesn’t all lead to the same place?” Draco asked.

Neville sighed. “I guess we don’t.”

“That’s why we have to get back to the future, before we make things even worse,” Draco said.

“Draco,” Neville stated as gently as he could. “Unless you suddenly became an expert on Time Turners, we’re stuck here, but we don’t have to make the same future. We can make it better.”

“Are you positive we can make it better? We won’t make it worse or just repeat everything?” Draco asked.

“I’m here, aren’t I? I never would’ve come after you in the previous timeline. We’ve already changed something for the better,” Neville pointed out.

Draco looked at the water of the Black Lake and considered everything.

They had already changed quite a bit. The Dementor on the train, the Hippogriph, the Boggart, this thing between him and Neville- whatever this thing was. Maybe they could change everything.

Draco just hoped it would be for the better and not the worse.

But Draco knew he couldn’t be a Death Eater again. He couldn’t.

Draco looked up. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I want to help make things better,” Draco said.

Neville smiled. “Then let’s make things better.”

Chapter Text

Neville and Draco went their separate ways when they got back inside, agreeing to meet up in the Room of Requirement later. Draco headed towards Charms while Neville headed towards History of Magic. DADA would be over by now, and Neville hoped that meant he could escape questions about his worst fear-

“Neville!” Professor Lupin poked his head out of his office when Neville tried to hurry past. “Would you come speak with me please?”

“I have History Of Magic,” Neville tried to escape the questions he knew Lupin had.

“I’ll write you a note,” Professor Lupin said as he ducked back into his office.

Neville sighed and followed him.

“Tea?” Professor Lupin asked as he sat behind his desk.

“Yes, please,” Neville said.

Professor Lupin poured some tea into a cup and handed it to Neville. Neville took a sip and placed it on the table, focusing on the wood on the desk instead of Lupin’s scrutinizing eyes.

“I owe you an apology, Neville,” Professor Lupin said.

Neville looked up in surprise. “What for?”

“Perhaps the Boggart was a bad idea,” Professor Lupin stated. “Facing your worst fear reveals a lot about a person and exposes a certain vulnerability. I expected spiders, banshees, and mummies, but I was a fool to believe there wouldn’t be more serious fears. Between your fear, Mr. Malfoy’s, and Mr. Potter’s… the Boggart was not my greatest idea. If I had known your fear would be… her, I never would have made you face it.”

“No need to apologize,” Neville said, pitying the professor. Remus Lupin was the only defense professor he had that genuinely cared about his students, and he hated to see the man feel so guilty over something he couldn’t have predicted. “You couldn’t have known.”

“No, but maybe I should have expected it,” Professor Lupin stated. “I knew your parents in school.”

Neville looked up in interest. “So you knew them before…”

“Yes,” Professor Lupin replied. “Your father was absolutely smitten with your mother. They only started dating in third year, you know, and stayed together all through Hogwarts and beyond. They were both… a force to be reckoned with. Your mother, in particular, was excellent at Charms and knew the strangest, most out there Charms I’ve ever heard. She once cast this charm to make James’s hair grow and then controlled the hair with another charm to tie him up because he flirted with her in second year.”

Neville laughed. “Really?”

“Yes! And your father was particularly good with elemental magic. I’d seen the man shoot fire and water at the same time. It was rather interesting to watch.”

Neville smiled. He’d never heard such stories of his parents, even after the war.

“My Gran doesn’t talk about them much,” Neville said.

Professor Lupin looked down. “I suppose it makes her sad to think about. Her and her son were rather close from what I remember.”

“Did she approve of my mother?” Neville asked and was surprised at his own question, but Gran didn’t approve of anyone.

“Not for a while,” Professor Lupin said. “She used to turn her nose up at Alice every time she saw her, but Alice eventually wore her down. Your birth likely had something to do with that. Your grandmother adored you.”

Neville tilted his head in shock. “Really? I only ever seem to disappoint her these days.”

“I doubt that,” Professor Lupin said.

Neville shrugged. “It’s no surprise, really. I’m not very good with magic.”

“And who said that? I’ve talked to Professor Sprout about you, and she says you have quite an affinity with magical plants and herbology.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think that’s what Gran-or anyone else, for that matter- had in mind for me,” Neville sighed.

Gran had always been hard to read, and Neville was never really sure what she thought of his career as a Professional Herbologist. Some days, she would ask him a hundred questions about work and other days, she’d take one look at him and look away in disappointment.

“We all have our strengths,” Professor Lupin said, “And I’ve learned the hard way not playing to them is a shame to all. It robs the world of a talented young witch or wizard because they’re so focused somewhere else, they don’t hone their natural talents.”

“I think people want me to be more like my Mum and Dad,” Neville admitted. “Professor Flitwick watched me the whole first year to see if I was good at Charms. Professor McGonagall tried to teach me elemental spells, but all I did was set someone’s hair on fire. And of course, I’m horrible on a broom. My father was a Chaser.”

“Yes, but I once saw him trip over someone else’s broom and fall flat on his face.”

Neville blinked. “He was clumsy?”

“Oh, yes. In the air, amazing. On the ground? He tripped over air twenty times a day.”

Neville smiled a little. He’d always been so embarrassed by his clumsiness, and his Gran had always turned her nose up and looked away when he tripped or ran into something. It was a relief to know his father was just as clumsy as he was.

“See? You’re more like your dad than you thought. Look just like him, too,” Professor Lupin added.

“I do? Gran doesn’t really keep pictures of him, except for a portrait from when he was sixteen,” Neville said.

Now that Remus had opened the floodgates, Neville was excited to know more about his parents. He’d read everything he could on them, but it was nothing like speaking to someone who knew them. Neville felt like he had learned more about them in twenty minutes than he had in twenty-seven years.

“Oh, yes. Frank was on the chubbier side until puberty hit him like a truck,” Professor Lupin said, making Neville laugh. “You look just like him, only a tad shorter, but you have your mother’s eyes.”

Neville smiled. He thought of his mother’s distant, glazed over eyes in the hospital and wondered if his own eyes looked like hers used to…

“I was… sorry to hear what happened to them,” Professor Lupin said. “How are they doing?”

Neville’s smile immediately dropped. “No change in twen-twelve years,” Neville said, catching himself before he said twenty-seven.

“I am sorry,” Professor Lupin repeated.

Neville nodded, having heard that a thousand times before.

“There’s no cure,” Neville said. Even in the future, there was no cure. Mostly because the Longbottoms were the only ones to ever survive such extended torture by the Cruciatius Curse.

“No, not yet, but that’s why we need talented wizards like you,” Professor Lupin. “Maybe someday, someone will find a cure.”

Neville slowly lifted his head, an idea blossoming.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Well, you should get to History of Magic,” Professor Lupin said, quickly scribbling a note and handing it to him.

Neville nodded and stood up, heading for the door.

“Oh, and Neville?” Professor Lupin called, and Neville turned back. “You and Draco Malfoy are friends, right?”

Neville’s eyes widened slightly, taken aback. “What-What makes you say that?”

“You went after him today, after the Boggart,” Professor Lupin said.

Neville was surprised. He didn’t think anyone had noticed him slip out. After all, no one ever noticed him.

“We’re not exactly friends. More like… acquaintances,” Neville said. Or allies, reluctant ones at that. Anything but friends.

“Well, could you tell him I wish to speak to him?”

“Yes, I will,” Neville stated.

“Thank you, Neville.”

Neville nodded and left Professor Lupin’s office, his head whirling with all he had just learned and a new idea coming to surface.

If they were going to save some people and change the future… maybe Neville could find a way to save his parents, too.

Draco slipped into a chair beside Pansy in Charms.

“Hey, where were you?” Pansy whispered. “I looked up in DADA, and you were gone.”

“I just needed some air,” Draco said. It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Well, you missed Potter’s Boggart. A Dementor- can you imagine?” Blaise chuckled. “Whoo!” He said, mimicking a Dementor.

“Shut up, Blaise!” Draco hissed, his fuse already short after the encounter with the Boggart earlier.

Pansy, Blaise, Crabbe, and Goyle all turned to face him in creepy unison.

“What’s up with you?” Blaise asked. “Normally, you wouldn’t miss a chance to make fun of Potter.”

“Dementors are no laughing matter. They guard Azkaban for a reason. I think everyone’s a little scared of those blasted things,” Draco said. “And it’s a better fear than a mummy, Zabini.”

Blaise blushed at the memory of his Boggart. “Hey, mummy’s are scary! Egyptians literally cut out their organs and put them in glass jars and then wrapped their bodies in paper. How is that not creepy?”

“Maybe because they’re dead, Zabini,” Pansy drawled. “Can’t attack you if they’re dead.”

“But how do we know the bodies aren’t haunted, Pansy? How do we know?”

Pansy rolled her eyes at Blaise and turned back to Draco. “What was with your Boggart anyway? I mean, you as a Death Eater. Weirdly specific. And isn’t that all your father would want you to be if the Dark Lord was still around?”

“Exactly,” Draco said and didn’t elaborate.

Pansy squinted at him. “You’re acting weird,” she said bluntly.

“It’s Draco. He’s always weird,” Goyle laughed.

“Not as weird as you, Goyle. I’ve seen you put hot sauce on your chocolate,” Draco pointed out with a disgusted face.

“Hey, don’t knock it til you try it.”

“No, thanks. Now, shush, I’m trying to listen,” Draco said to try to escape the conversation.

The other Slytherins looked at each other in confusion.

“Listen?” Crabbe asked incredulously. “You never listen to the professors! Except for maybe Snape!

“Well, maybe I actually want to pass this class, Crabbe,” Draco snapped and turned back to his parchment and quill, signaling the end of the conversation.

The other Slytherins shrugged and turned back to the front as well.

Draco sighed in relief.

Chapter Text

After dinner that night, Neville snuck away from the other Gryffindors and headed to the Room of Requirement to find Draco already there.

The Room was different this time, more like an office. Draco was sitting at a wooden desk with parchment spread out in front of him. There was another empty chair beside Draco. There were also two very comfy looking couches, one on each wall. There were also several drawings and moving photographs on the walls until nearly every inch of the walls was covered. Piles of paper were stacked around the room in a kind of organized chaos.

“Where or what is this?” Neville asked curiously as he sat beside Draco.

“My office in the, well, in the future, I guess,” Draco answered.

“Who drew all the drawings?” Neville asked, spotting one of Pansy, one of Crabbe and Goyle standing together, one of Harry, Ron, and Hermione standing as a united front, and even one of him cutting the head off Nagini.

“Oh, I did,” Draco said, sounding almost embarrassed. “Just a past time.”

“Really? These are great!” Neville said honestly, looking at all the different drawings.

His eyes landed on a drawing of two children. They were both holding a collection of flowers, and some strange looking creatures fluttered around their heads.

“Who are they?” Neville asked. He recognized most of the people in the pictures but this was an exception.

“Oh, Luna and I,” Draco said.

“Luna? Luna Lovegood?”

“Yeah, she’s my cousin.”

“Your cousin?!”

“Yeah, her mom was my dad’s sister,” Draco answered, still blushing slightly at talking about his drawings. “Now enough about the drawings. We need a game plan.”

“I’m assuming that’s what all the parchment is for?” Neville said.

“Yep,” Draco replied. “We need to write down everything we remember, starting with what happens this year.”

“Well, we already changed the whole thing with Buckbeak,” Neville pointed out. “Your arm isn’t clawed to pieces, and Buckbeak isn’t sentenced to death and Hagrid isn’t being, like, investigated or fired for gross negligence anymore or anything.”

Draco nodded and wrote down Buckbeak with a check mark next to it.

“Then, there’s Sirius Black.”

“We need to prove his innocence before he’s caught,” Draco agreed, writing it down. Harry had publicly announced and explained Black’s innocence after the war, so Draco knew about it.

“How do we find him?” Neville asked. “He’s an Animagus, so do we just look for a big black dog and hope it’s him?”

“Well, there’s only so many big black dogs wandering around, so it shouldn’t be too hard,” Draco said. “What else?”

“Pettigrew. If we catch him, we can prove Black’s innocence and stop Pettigrew from raising the Dark Lord.”

“Unfortunately, capturing Pettigrew will probably only delay the inevitable,” Draco said. “The Dark Lord has a lot of followers.” Including my parents went unsaid. “One of them is bound to raise him sooner or later.”

“Then, fourth year,” Neville said. “Harry’s name gets put in the Goblet of Fire. Then, there’s the whole Moody thing to deal with. You see, Moody was actually-“

“Barty Crouch Jr.,” Draco finished. “What? I read Hermione’s book,” he added at Neville’s look.

Neville raised his eyebrows. “You read Hermione’s book?”

Hermione had written a couple of books in the past few years, but undoubtedly, her most famous one was The Adventures of Harry Potter , which chronicled the adventures of the Golden Trio. Considering how much Draco had hated Hermione and the whole Golden Trio, it was surprising he had bothered to pick up her book.

“Yeah. I mean, I had a lot of questions about what exactly Potter was doing during our Hogwarts years, so I read her book to find out,” Draco answered, a tad snippy, as though daring Neville to push.

Neville nodded. “So you already knew about the Horcruxes then?”

“Yes,” Draco answered. “But Hermione left a lot out of her book, including the specifics of the Horcrux Hunt.”

“Hermione didn’t want anyone replicating the Horcruxes,” Neville explained, “So she purposefully stayed as vague as she could.”

“So what ones do we know about?” Draco asked. “I know they went to the Room of Requirement to look for some tiara.” Draco wrote it down. “That’s when Crabbe…” Draco trailed off as he remembered his friend being consumed by the flames.

“Well, we’ll just make sure Crabbe’s no where near the Room of Requirement this time,” Neville said. “And that no one uses Fiend Fyre this time.”

“What else?” Draco asked.

“Ron once mentioned ‘that damn locket,’ but he never got more specific than that.”

Draco nodded and wrote down locket .

“They broke into Gringotts during their seventh year, but I don’t know what they were looking for.”

“Probably a Horcrux,” Draco replied, “if they were willing to break into Gringotts to get it.”

Draco wrote down Horcrux- Gringotts? on the parchment.

“I know the Deathly Hallows played a part,” Neville said. “The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, and the Invisibility Cloak, but I don’t know if any of them were Horcruxes.”

Draco nodded. “I’ll write it down.”

As Draco wrote it, Neville tried to think back to anything else Harry, Ron, and Hermione had told him.

“Harry destroyed one of the Horcruxes in his second year,” Neville remembered. “A diary.”

“Yeah, that one my father kept in his desk and said he’d curse me if I ever touched,” Draco remembered.

“Probably for good reason. That thing could’ve killed you,” Neville said.

“Nah, he probably just didn’t want anyone messing up his master plan,” Draco muttered.

Neville looked at Draco in slight concern, but Draco was already writing down diary- checkmark and moving on.

“Hermione said there were seven Horcruxes,” Neville remembered.

Draco nodded. “Seven is the most powerful magic number, so Voldemort would’ve wanted his Horcruxes to be as strong as possible.”

Draco counted the ones they had listed.

Tiara

Locket

Horcrux- Gringotts?

Diary- checkmark

“We only have four,” Draco said.

“Well, one of them would be Harry,” Neville said. “Apparently, Voldemort made him a Horcrux when he tried to kill him when he was one.”

They both shuddered at the thought of having a piece of Voldemort living inside them.

“Well, how are we going to handle that? We can’t exactly kill the Boy Who Lived,” Draco said.

“I don’t know,” Neville admitted. “The first time, Voldemort cast a Killing Curse on Harry in the forest, and it somehow killed the Horcrux without killing Harry. I don’t know how, and honestly, I’m not even sure if Harry knew how. But if we do that plan again, who knows what could go wrong? Harry could actually die.”

“So that’s too big a risk. We’ll need to find another way around it,” Draco said.

Neville looked at him skeptically, and Draco seemed to sense it without even looking up.

“Look, I may not like Potter, but it doesn’t mean I want him dead,” Draco said. “Besides, like it or not, he’s too important in all this.”

Neville nodded, still a little surprised Draco would show even the slightest care for Harry’s life, but then again, Draco had thrown Harry his wand during the Battle of Hogwarts. Maybe Neville should give Draco more credit. It wasn’t like Draco was a horrible person. He did some horrible things, but he regretted them and was even trying to fix them now.

“That still leaves two Horcruxes unaccounted for,” Neville said.

“So we need to find out what those are. Any idea how to destroy them?” Draco asked.

Neville shook his head. “No, Harry, Ron, and Hermione never said.”

“So we need to find that out before we go looking for the Horcruxes. Having the Horcruxes won’t do us much good if we can’t destroy them,” Draco said.

Neville nodded. “I agree, but where are we going to find this information? They’re not just going to have it lying around in the Hogwarts library.”

“The Malfoy Family library has books on a lot of subjects, and failing that, the Black Family library is infamous for its books on Dark Magic. I’m sure we can find the answer in one of those,” Draco said.

“Can you access the Black Family library?” Neville asked.

Draco nodded. “Any member of the family can, but I can’t just ask my parents. They’ll be too suspicious, not to mention my mother will worry about the amount of curses on the books.”

“Curses?” Neville squawked.

“Yeah, the Black Family is very protective of their knowledge. Some of the Darker books have curses on them to prevent people touching them, but I’m sure I can find a way around them,” Draco said.

“Are you sure? I don’t want a book to, like, eat your hand or something,” Neville said, concerned.

Draco laughed. “So you care about me, after all, Longbottom?”

Neville blushed. “What? I-“

“I’m just pulling your leg,” Draco chuckled. “But seriously, I’ll be fine. A couple protective spells and some counter curses, and I’ll have the books, no problem.”

Neville nodded, still unsure. “Okay. But we need to find the Horcruxes as soon as possible. The sooner we find them, the sooner we can defeat Voldemort and the more we can prevent.”

Draco nodded. “We’ll focus on Black this year, and then over the summer, I’ll find out how to destroy the Horcruxes and then-“

“Horcrux Hunting,” Neville finished.

Draco nodded, and he waved his wand over the parchment. Before Neville’s eyes, he watched the words morph and change into Transfiguration notes.

“Just a precaution,” Draco said, and he tapped the parchment again, said Neville’s name, and the words changed back. “Only we can read this. To anyone else, it will look like Transfiguration notes.”

Neville smiled. “Good idea.”

“Of course, it was. I thought of it,” Draco said.

Neville laughed. “Geesh, arrogant much?”

Draco shrugged. “Only when pride is deserved.”

“And when it’s not,” Neville said, remembered the many times Draco had been arrogant when pride was very much not deserved. It just seemed to be a part of his personality at this point.

“Now you’re getting it, Longbottom.”

Neville started to head for the door. “I should get back to Gryffindor Tower. By the way, Professor Lupin wants to talk to you.”

Draco furrowed his brow. “About what?”

“The Boggart, I presume. He already talked to me about mine.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Great.”

Neville shrugged. “I think he’s just concerned, which is more than I can say for our other DADA professors.”

Draco couldn’t help but agree.

“You coming?” Neville asked.

“No, I’ll stay here a little longer. I’ve got homework to do,” Draco said.

Neville nodded and left, closing the door behind him.

Draco sighed and took out his Time Turner, along with a book called The Intertwining of Science and Magic: Time Travel.

He had a lot of work to do.