Draco – POV
"Finally back," I muttered under my breath, stepping out into the snow. Cold bit at my cheeks and frost clung to the corners of my robes. The air was crisp, quiet, comfortingly familiar.
The shabby little building behind me looked exactly the same as when I left it, like nothing had changed. I had rented the room for an hour, didn't even use half. Paid full, of course. Can't exactly risk questions.
Checked the time the moment I stepped out. Only a minute had passed.
One minute here.
Ten bloody days over there.
The travel card had a limit. I knew that going in. Ten days, max. But knowing it and feeling it were two completely different things. Time didn't just crawl here. It practically froze.
I had all these grand ideas before using the card. Thought I might scheme my way through the city, manipulate a few power-hungry idiots, pull some strings.
Didn't happen.
In the end, I kept it simple. Practised magic. Stocked up on gold. Picked up a few useful items. Got my hands dirty.
All in all, productive.
"Oi, Draco!"
I turned at the sound of heavy footsteps crunching in the snow.
"Where did you go? We were looking all over for you."
"Yeah, mmff, we were even gonna crunch tell a professor you went miss... gulp... missing!"
Vincent and Gregory. Mouths full of snacks, cheeks puffed like chipmunks, hands juggling paper wrappers and half-eaten pastries.
Crunch. Munch. Slurp.
Vincent was holding something that looked like a meat pie. Gregory was already halfway through a chocolate bar and unwrapping the next one like a man on a mission.
Of course.
They had clearly skipped the worrying part and gone straight to snacking.
I hadn't told them anything, obviously. Rented the room alone. Vanished without a word. The less they knew, the safer I would be.
And less annoying, too.
---------
HOGWARTS
"Come on then. It's time we got back to Hogwarts," I said, brushing past them and heading towards the crowd of students.
A crowd had formed near the main staircase, students pushing and whispering, craning their necks to see what was going on.
"What's happening?" I asked, slowing down as I caught sight of Dumbledore himself standing at the top of the steps, next to Filch. Even from here, I could tell something was off. The old man's face looked grim, and Filch, well, Filch always looked like someone had kicked his cat, but now he was more twitchy than usual.
"Everyone to their common rooms immediately!" Dumbledore's voice rang out, strong and commanding, leaving no room for negotiation.
Then he turned and leaned in to say something to Filch. I couldn't hear it, too far back, but I saw Filch nod sharply and disappear down the hallway, muttering to himself.
"What was that about?" I asked the nearest group of first-year Slytherins as we were being herded back toward the dungeons.
"Haven't you heard?" one of them whispered. "Black. He got in."
I stopped mid-step.
Sirius Black. Right. This was the part where he breaks into Hogwarts. The one where he tears up the Fat Lady's portrait.
I remembered now.
Tch. I still didn't know if Black had come for Potter or for Peter.
Maybe, just maybe, Peter's actually innocent. Maybe he's just some poor bloke who didn't want anyone knowing he was alive, so he went full Animagus and played rat for the Weasleys all these years.
Yeah, right.
I chuckled at the thought, then shook it off. The grin faded from my face as I got serious again.
No, I need to be sure. I have to find out if Scabbers really is Peter Pettigrew.
Because that changes everything.
And not just for Potter or Black. This is about my plan. A key part of something much bigger.
Much, much bigger.
But it all depends on the scenario. On things lining up just right. And I can't leave that to chance. Hoping it'll work out? No. That's not how this goes.
If I want it to happen, I've got to make it happen.
Plan for it. Set the stage. Control the pieces on the board. Guide the outcome.
Luck's just a bonus.
He is coming back. There's no doubt about it. Not until his Horcruxes are completely destroyed. He's bound to this world, stitched into its fabric like a disease that refuses to die.
And when he does return, everyone will have to pick a side.
There won't be any sitting on the fence. No hiding in corners hoping the storm passes. You're either with him or against him. No in-betweens. At least not for long.
Most pure-blood families will back him. That much is obvious. Some will hesitate, remembering his last fall. But many will see his return as a fresh chance. A way to get ahead. To settle old scores. To rise through fear and blood. Power shifts always attract desperate people.
And the Malfoys? Yeah, we'll be right in the thick of it.
I remember he gave me the task in sixth year. Kill Dumbledore. Like that was ever going to end well. But the old man… he knew. He saw it coming. He even had contingencies in place for after his death.
Say what you will, but Dumbledore wasn't just a twinkly-eyed eccentric.
He had charm, yeah—but more importantly, he had a brain. And he used it.
But that doesn't mean I'm choosing his side either.
Just because I know what's coming doesn't mean I'm signing up for it.
I'm not interested in being someone else's tool. Not Voldemort's. Not Dumbledore's. Not Potter's. Not anyone's.
If I'm going to survive what's coming, I have to be smarter than all of them. I need to think long-term. Move in shadows. Build something of my own.
No grand oaths. No Dark Marks on my arm. No tragic hero speeches. Just careful work and solid moves behind the curtain.
Let them all think I'm undecided. It's easier that way. If they don't know where I stand, they won't see me coming.
Because when the war starts—and it will—everyone else will be caught up in the noise.
But I'll be ready.
And I'll win.
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