Drarry O'Clock- Part 1

12: The Quidditch Curse

Draco

Draco filled up his suitcase and performed wingardium leviosa. The suitcase floated serenely next to him.

Glumly he pushed past some Gryffindors to make his way to the exits.

Students were not meant to head home for Christmas for another three days. Draco was thankful for his father's influence. Because of his father writing an extended letter to Dumbledore, Draco was excused to leave earlier than any of the other students. He had not mentioned to his father any of his true concerns about the troll, and was glad for trusting his instincts. It exhausted him that he was too scared to mention his wariness about Quirrel.

But, there was still one more thing which terrified him most of all.

Ever since he had found the mirror that said 'Erised', he had been feeling haunted by an unknown presence. He could not sleep well, waking up from dreams in cold and warm sweats and choking on his saliva.

It was the mirror. It must have been. Whether it was cursed he did not wish to ponder on- he would not leave it out of his reach even if it were. Whether it was his conscience that made him feel terrible was another possibility. The mirror had stayed in compact form the entire time, although he had done some enlarging spells to look into it clearer. But it was never larger than his hand in all these instances. He was already so afraid to get caught with it in his hand that he only took it out if he was absolutely sure nobody was around. Temptation made him escape others more often. He would take it with him to the boy's toilets and into a cubicle and hover a cloth on top of it in case someone appeared suddenly.

He had also attempted to take afternoon naps to catch up on the sleep he couldn't get from all the silently grim nightmares he would have at night. But staying alone in his room made him experience hallucinations.

He had gone to Madam Pomfrey about his hallucinations. She questioned him about whether he had entered any restricted rooms, touched any odd items or even gone out after hours. He insisted that he hadn't, but even trying to change the topic to other things stopped working and she regarded him doubtfully.

He knew he now was close to being suspected. Leaving Hogwarts for his much safer house was the best option.

He breathed in and stepped into the open. A sudden force made him fly backwards. He fumbled with his wand and pulled it out.

The Quidditch pitch was vibrant and green in front of him. Separating it from the building where they had classes was a narrow and tall gate.

He looked around himself. Someone had performed magic on him. They must have. He could not explain any other reason why he had stumbled backwards if he hadn't touched anything physical. He walked back towards the gate, again feeling a strong force pulling him back. He clenched at the gates, trying to force a step forward.

He heard a rush of wind and was thrown into the air. His suitcase landed ahead of him, and he crashed into it. His nose was stubbed harshly onto the suitcase. He teared up uncontrollably and opened his eyes to see a mosaic of flashing lights.
Meanwhile, a wisp of smoke rose from the audience stands, and creeped along growing and shrinking under the slowly darkening sky.

The smoke crawled and flowed from the stands. It snuck under the bleachers as Draco looked up.
Draco coughed into his palm. His chest was filled with fiery pain that roared. He slowly peeked at his palm, afraid of what he might see. But, luckily, he had not coughed out blood like he had thought.
He had to stop imagining the worst- he had to stop having these insane thoughts which were slowly driving him to a serious insanity. Logical thinking was what he needed. He steadied himself and flipped his luggage over. His clothes spilt out onto the grass. He squished the sleeves of his gown into its bag, only succeeding in making the rest of his belongings bulge out. He tugged out his entire robe and began folding it. His fingers shivered and he attempted to steady them, by clutching them together and into a fist.

He tossed his robe into a crumpled line over his belongings and jerked the zipper close.

All the while, he wondered about who had struck magic at him.

Who hated him at Hogwarts?

Madam Pomfrey's words buzzed in his ears like a curse, "If you hurt any powerful wizard or take his belongings, you might find yourself faced with dangerous and revengeful magic."

Dangerous magic? Is that what it was really?

He had scoured his mind for who he had hurt that wanted to get back at him so much. It couldn't be the Weasleys, because most of the time he experienced the visions and the haunting nightmares he was in his Slytherin dormitory, if not amongst other Slytherins.

He wondered if he was just overthinking the links between his nightmares, and the physical sensations and injuries he got while awake. Maybe they were two separate things.

His knee was freshly scraped from the spell that had hit him now. It had healed only just yesterday. Last week, someone had made the final stair disappear beneath him as he was going to class, and he had plunged down to the stairs below, and his knee had dislocated.

Just the memory of the pain made him flinch. Someone was definitely out to get him, that was one hundred percent clear. But, were they powerful enough to also enter his nightmares?

Then, he thought about his conversations with Harry Potter about the weird events that Hogwarts was going through and how they thought Quirrell was a part of much of it.

He used that as a comparison to try to understand what was happening around him. Maybe just like what he had accused Harry of, his brain was linking together the circumstances. If he had an issue with an enemy within Hogwarts Castle, then it should not worry him any longer. He was going to leave anyways. If this spell they cast on him was their way of terrifying him, then so be it. When he returned to Hogwarts after the Christmas break, he would have gotten better at dueling and locating invisible opponents. That person would get their karma, and it did not matter if they were one of the students in the higher years. He would make sure to threaten them with his father and that would terrify them.
The nightmares were another issue but surely a nightmare was just a nightmare and was due to his overactive imagination. He repeated this conclusion in his head to console himself.

He was not going to overthink anymore. He would leave the mirror at the Malfoy Manor too, to make sure he did not have to think about it for the rest of the year.

There was no use in envisioning very weird scenarios. Things like You-Know-Who appearing in Hogwarts was being whispered in the corridors but it was all nonsense. ...Right? Just as nonsense as that there was a teacher that endangered students or that the headmaster, as cracked as he was, is not letting Slytherins get a different Common House in a less dangerous place than the dungeons or at least not having stronger protection spells than what was placed because he hated Slytherins so much.
Draco scoffed aloud.

He tightened the zipper for the final time, and the bag was neatly closing up. Except for one object which plopped onto the grass.

It was the mirror.