I Solemnly Swear I'm Unintentionally Up to No Good

Chapter Eight

8| The Past Repeats

"What are you doing? We're just supposed to follow your dead dad?!"

Harry suppressed a flinch at Malfoy's shrill voice. Whipping around, "Will you shut up!" he hissed.

"Normally I prefer to keep my composure, but this time you've really out done yourself." Malfoy snarled, now pushing himself into Harry's face. "If this is one of those heroic adventures to save the Wizarding world with 'Potter and friends,' I refuse to have any part in it!"

"Oh, trust me, you're not exactly my first pick to be... time traveling  with. " Harry frowned, throwing his arms up. "Or whatever has happened to us."

James rubbed his neck, raising a brow at the two new students, bickering at the start of the hall. "Erm, you guys coming?"

Malfoy sneered. "No."

"Oi, would it kill you to be polite?"

"This is ridiculous." Shaking his head, the entitled prat began walking off into the crowd of students. "I'm going straight to Dumbledore."

Harry grumbled in fury, before blanching and turning back to James. "I- thank you for the directions. But I, uh, should follow him." He pointed back to Malfoy. "But thanks— uh, truly. It was nice meeting you." He quickly pushed into the body of witches and wizards, following after the snooty blond. 

Mortification was a drastic understatement of the feeling pushing down into his stomach at the moment. He could not run away fast enough from such an embarrassing interaction, with his late father nonetheless. Their one, and perhaps only, conversation: leave it to Malfoy to fuck it up. 

He'd kill him. 

Draco forced himself against the flow of students, he hoped to put more distance between himself and Harry. This was proving far too much. He had no desire to be a part of some sort of family reunion. Rather, he'd especially like to take all this building anxiety and exhaustion under his bedcovers where he could pretend they didn't exist. 

Reaching the entrance to the Headmaster's tower, Draco stopped to stare at the boorish gargoyle mounted at the entry. Of course, a password was required to move him out of the way. A nagging thought in the back of his mind told him if any student was privy to the headmaster's passwords it would be the mangy boy trotting up behind him. 

"Oi! You couldn't have waited up?"

"Why would I?" Draco threw his hand out, motioning to the gargoyle. "Any idea how to get him to move?"

"Not without Dumbledore's password."

He shot a glare. "Yes, obviously."

"Really, an awesome bloody plan you came up with, yeah? We'll just go see the headmaster and have all our problems figured out in a jiffy."

Ignoring him, Draco stepped closer to the stone monster. "Might you be able to tell Dumbledore there are two students who urgently need to see him?"

"The password's always some sort of dessert."

Draco scoffed. Of course, he should've put money on it. "Naturally, the golden boy would know the theme of his passwords."

"Shut it."

"Me? I seem to recall that you're the reason we're in this mess to begin with!"

"How is this my—"

"I don't mean to interrupt, but I do believe I may be able to help you."

The pair jerked around, meeting Dumbledore—looking just as notably ancient as usual—standing behind them. He moved forward, whispering "toffee eclairs" with a wink. 

The gargoyle, seemingly coming to life, stepped to the side. 

"Now come, I've heard you have urgent business."

Draco couldn't contain the flush heating up his face, as he followed the headmaster up the spiral stairs. He found himself suddenly choked up. Would killing the headmaster 20 years ahead of time count? He shook his head, pulling his sleeve down over his wrist. In an attempt to save what was quite likely his first impression, he tried to remember his manners. "I hope you'll forgive our squabbling, we've had quite the awful day."

At the top of the stairs, they entered a large circular room lined with tall windows and crammed bookshelves along the walls. At one end sat the professor's desk, behind it the portraits of the previous headmasters hung.

"I have no doubt. Come, sit. We have matter's to attend to."

Raising his brow, Draco sat, watching intently as Dumbledore rummaged through his office towards the back, returning with the Sorting Hat.

"Now then, we'll have to start with this. Can't have new students running around unsorted, can we?"

Potter frowned. "Uh, professor we're not exactly new."

"I'm certain you're no student of mine, young man. What are your names?"

"Harry Potter, sir."

Draco fidgeted in his seat. "My name is Draco Malfoy, and we are students—"

"Not yet you aren't."

He swallowed, watching closely as Dumbledore's eyes sparkled. "No, we're here by mistake. We need—"

"First, you need to be sorted, otherwise," the headmaster paused, widening his eyes, "I cannot allow you on campus. Only the current student body is allowed." 

Harry nodded, muttering "Easy enough." He took the hat from the desk and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Draco cringed as the hat was passed to him. He felt Dumbedore was playing some sort of game. Surely he could tell by the ties around their necks, they already knew their respective houses. He settled the hat on his head. There was nothing to debate, his house was obvious—he froze. The hat remained silent.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of intelligence, I see. No lack of determination either. There's talent, my goodness, yes—and a strong desire to protect your loved ones, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you?"

Slytherin. Of course, Slytherin. 

"Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice. "Again? Are you sure? It seems you're rather lacking the ambition of your youth. Perhaps you would thrive in a more collaborative house. Ravenclaw would no doubt help you along your way to obtaining the knowledge you seek—no? Well, if you're sure, SLYTHERIN!"

Draco jolted, throwing the hat back onto the desk. He could feel Potter's curious eyes crawling all over him. "Right then, now we're sorted."

The headmaster quirked a brow at Draco knowingly. "Wonderful. I'll assign the two of you dorms." He paused. "I take it your bags were lost on your journey?"

Harry shook his head. "No, professor. We haven't any bags, I know we sound mad, but all our things are years ahead in the future. Some sort of magic—"

Dumbledore threw up a hand up, silencing the boy. "I'm afraid I already know too much by you simply being here. It is imperative you young men keep the details of your arrival to yourselves. Time can be a dangerous thing. Do you understand?"

The pair nodded slowly.

"Then you shall be our temporary guests until your return home."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "And how are we to do that?"

"The best person to ask such a question is the same person who journeyed here in the first place, no?" Dumbledore stood. "I trust you can see yourselves to your common rooms?"

Standing after him, they stepped back, slowly being cowed back to the staircase. 

"Good. I must say there is never a dull moment in running Hogwarts, but I cannot be of any more service. I wish you boys luck."

With that, they were retreating back down the spiral steps. 

Exiting into the school corridor, Harry blinked. "We're on our own," he said.

"We're screwed," Draco amended.