Draco wouldn't admit it to anyone that he was worried about Harry Potter. It was just happenstance that he was patrolling the corridors near Umbridge's office. Not too close to be conspicuous, but close enough to make sure Potter made it back to the common room.

Draco was wondering just how much longer he could procrastinate returning himself when a familiar snowy owl came barreling around the corner. She squawked and flew in circles around him. Draco wasn't an owl whisperer like Potter evidently was, but he could certainly tell when an owl was distressed.

"What is it?" Draco asked.

She flew back the way she came, and then almost bounced off the wall, flying back to Draco, before looping around him and going back. Draco got the message, and followed her. He had to jog to keep up, even though she doubled back to make sure he hadn't lost her.

He was getting rather close to Umbridge's office when he turned a corner and found a student shaped ball of Slytherin Hogwarts robes. He ran the remaining distance, sliding to a stop. 

"Potter!" Draco set a hand on a shoulder. Potter didn't react. "Potter!" Draco hissed.

He heard a muted whimper from the robes. Draco's jaw clenched, before he rolled Potter over. His breath caught in his throat. Potter was pale, sweaty, shivering- and his sleeve was stained brown, red covering his hand.

Draco wormed one arm behind Potter's shoulders, and managed to stand.  Draco was lucky Potter was so light: he was unconscious, his head lolling to the side. The prefect huffed, and then picked him up entirely.  Potter was so skinny and light that a levitation spell would be more effort than actually carrying him.

For a moment, Draco wasn't sure whether to take him to the dorms or to the hospital wing. Then he set off for the latter. Potter's bleeding hand rested on his side, his writing hand swinging with each step.

There were moments where Potter's eyelids fluttered, but other than wincing, grimacing, shivering, and shaky breaths, there was no other movement. If Potter wasn't unconscious, Draco was fairly certain that he would wish he was.

Draco pushed open the doors to the hospital wing, and took a moment to look around. It seemed like so far, Potter was the only one in need of an overnight stay. "Madam Pomfrey!" Draco called out.

He heard a bit of noise from the woman's chambers, before she exited them, wand in hand, hair in a net. Her eyes landed on Potter in Malfoy's arms. "By the heavens." She said, then pointed to a cot.

Draco obeyed the silent order, and as carefully as he could, set Potter down on it. Hedwig perched on the footboard. 

"What happened to him?" She asked, taking his hand in hers to examine it, entirely unbothered by the blood.

A heartbeat's pause before Draco answered. "He came into contact with a Dark object. A quill."

She nodded, and set the hand down, before grabbing various healing supplies, and setting to work. "How did you come across him? Was he awake or not?"

"Not. He was collapsed in the corridor." Draco said. 

"How did you know what he came into contact with?" She asked, not looking up from her work.

"Blaise and I found out yesterday. Potter's our roommate- he's been doing lines for Umbridge all week." Draco said. "'I must not tell lies'. She doesn't agree with him that the Dark Lord is back."

For only a half second, her hands froze in her work. "I see." She said, reading the words on his hand.

"Murtlap essence did well last night for his hand. I applied it this morning as well." Draco said. 

"A wise choice." Madam Pomfrey said. "That no doubt eased his pain quite dramatically. However, murtlap still can't counter Dark magic. It will scar."

"I thought the same." Draco scowled.

"Even a blood quill wouldn't make someone this ill though..." Pomfrey frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Never you mind." She said. "Off to bed with you."

"But-"

"No overnight visitors, Mr. Malfoy. You'll just have to wait until morning to see Mr. Potter." 

Draco's hands clenched for a moment before he forced them to relax.

"It is good to see you helping each other for a change." Madam Pomfrey commented.

Draco was glad he had already turned for the door, so that she couldn't see his blush.

~~~

Blaise was waiting for him when he got back to the dorm.

"Oh." Blaise said, seeming disappointed. "I thought you'd bring him with you when you came back."

"No. He's staying the night in the hospital wing." Draco said.

Blaise's eyes widened. "Bloody hell. It got that bad?"

"His owl led me to him. Found him unconscious in the corridor." Draco said, grabbing his things to get ready for bed.

"Those quills don't do that to a person." Blaise frowned. "They might feel a little queasy at the most, but not overnight at the hospital wing bad."

"Maybe it's a different variety?" Draco suggested, though somehow he didn't quite believe it.

Blaise gained a thoughtful look on his face. "Could be. Or maybe..." He looked pointedly to Draco.

"What?" Draco frowned.

"You know, something that causes a sensitivity to magic?" Blaise prompted.

"You don't really think-?"

"What else could it be?"

Draco looked over to Potter's empty bed. "What are you hiding?" He murmured.

~~~

Harry woke abruptly when Madam Pomfrey gently took a hold of his hand to examine it. Before he even recognized who it was, or where he was, Harry had jerked his hand back and had his wand pointed at who had startled him awake.

"Well, that's certainly a new development, Mr. Potter." Madam Pomfrey said, unfazed.

"Sorry." Harry said sheepishly, and lowered his wand.

"How are you feeling?" She asked, retaking his hand.

"A little tired, a little sore." Harry said. 

"Your hand?"

"Stings a little bit, but I think that's a given."

She cast a few detection charms, but didn't seem to find any troubling results. "You are free to go, Mr. Potter. And please, take your owl with you."

Hedwig tilted her head at him.

"How did I get here?"

"Mr. Malfoy brought you." Madam Pomfrey told him.

~~~

Harry made a stop by the Slytherin dorm for a quick rinse in the shower, and a change of clothes. He arrived at the Great Hall as a majority of people were wrapping up breakfast. Others were like Harry, and had only recently escaped their common rooms.

Both Malfoy and Zabini noticed him as he walked over. Harry sighed and sat down. Half a minute later, Malfoy slid him a plate. It was small, and filled with carefully chosen foods.

Harry looked up at the head table, and made eye contact with McGonagall. She quirked a brow. Harry shrugged. She made a slightly amused face before turning back to her breakfast.

She seemed to notice when he had finished, and walked over to him. "Are you ready, Mr. Potter?"

"Er, yes, Professor." Harry said, and stood up, and followed her out. 

"You were late to breakfast." She said as they walked toward her office.

"Didn't mean to be. Sorry." Harry said. 

"What kept you?"

"Er." Harry said.

"Yes?"

"I..." Harry said sheepishly. "Was in the hospital wing."

McGonagall looked at him as they walked. 

"Clearly I'm fine now, so." Harry said awkwardly.

"Malfoy?" She asked with a raised brow.

"Huh? Oh, no, it wasn't him." 

"Well, that's a first for you, isn't it?"

"I guess."

"It would appear that the two of you are getting along." McGonagall said.

"Er." Harry said. "I guess?"

There was a small glint of mischief in her eyes when she looked at him next.

They used the floo to arrive in Diagon Alley. McGonagall was no-funny-business as she guided him through the street, heading straight for Ollivander's. A bell rang when she pushed the door open, waving Harry to walk in.

"Ah, Professor, Mr. Potter." Ollivander said, peering around a corner. 

"Hello." Harry said.

"And what brings you here today?" Ollivander asked.

"Mr. Potter has been having troubles with his wand." McGonagall said.

Ollivander's brows rose. "Come here." He beckoned Harry forward, "Let's see what's about, shall we?"

"...What should I do?" Harry asked after Ollivander looked at him expectantly.

"Well, show me what the problem is."

Harry demonstrated the reluctance of the spells he cast. Many didn't take entirely. "It's like there's something blocking it."

Ollivander frowned. "Let me see your wand."

Harry passed it over, and the old man began to examine it. "Eleven inches, holly, phoenix feather core. This is the same wand I sold to you when you first came to my shop."

"If it's my wand, then why doesn't it feel like it?" Harry asked.

Ollivander looked at Harry. "When you cast a spell, where do you feel your magic?"

"In my body."

"Not in your wand."

"No. I mean, I can feel it go through the wand, but it's barely noticeable." Harry said.

"Where do you feel your magic most? Be specific." Ollivander said.

Harry frowned, and cast lumos, then extinguished it. He looked up at Ollivander. "Everywhere."

"Not your chest, or your hands?" 

"I do, but I also feel it everywhere else." Harry said.

"I've studied magic and wands for a very long time, Mr. Potter. Most witches and wizards are not like you." Ollivander handed Harry his wand, and then tapped Harry's chest with a finger. "Nothing has changed with your wand, but something has changed in here."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Mr. Ollivander... What are you implying?" McGonagall asked.

Ollivander's eyes twinkled. "I'm sure you know, Professor."

"A magical inheritance?" She asked.

"Well, it would make the most sense." Ollivander said.

"Do you have any idea which one?" McGonagall asked.

"None at all." Ollivander said, eyes sparkling. 

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked.

"Well, Mr. Potter," Ollivander said. "Occasionally- and I do mean that it is rare- a young witch or wizard will happen upon a magical inheritance. Sometimes this inheritance could be due to an ancestor with magical, non wizarding blood. Sometimes it's entirely random- or at least, we haven't yet discovered the pattern.

"Examples of a magical inheritance would be... Well, you might even say that a metamorphmagus has an inheritance of this sort. Some people think they should be their own race- like vampires, or werewolves..." Ollivander trailed off. "I don't think these variances from the standard wizard witch cookie cutter should be called a different race... You might as well say blondes and brunettes aren't the same race for all the sense it makes..."

"Mr. Ollivander." McGonagall said.

"Ah, yes." Ollivander said. "The age by which you can come into a magical inheritance is never set in stone. You may be born with it actively presenting, or in just as many cases, dormant. You may even be... afflicted," He said the word with distaste, "With an inheritance, such as a werewolf bite. Or- I've just heard a rumour about it, I couldn't say for sure, but there might be a way to become an animagus without learning-"

Harry and McGonagall exchanged a brief knowing look.

"But there are many ways to come by a magical inheritance. There are many different ones as well..." Ollivander said. "But these inheritances can alter the way your magic interacts with the world around you. And how the magic of the world interacts with you."

Harry's head spun.

"Thank you for your help, Mr. Ollivander." McGonagall said.

"Oh, it was my pleasure." Ollivander replied warmly.

~~~

Harry was in a daze the entire trip back to Hogwarts, though it wasn't a long one to be honest. 

"Mr. Potter." McGonagall said when they were back in her office.

"Yes?" Harry blinked.

"Would you explain to me what happened to your hand?"

"Oh, it's nothing." Harry said.

"It most certainly is not. Don't think that I can't recognize your handwriting." McGonagall said sharply.

Harry felt like a child. "It's really... I'm fine, Professor."

"I think I'll be the judge of that." She replied.

Harry sighed. "Umbridge had me write lines for her detention all week, using a dark magic quill that may or may not use my blood as ink."

McGonagall blinked. "That foul woman." It was a bit frightening, if Harry was honest, how calmly she could say something with such loathing behind it.

"Please, Professor. It isn't worth it to fight her now, about this." Harry said. "Wait until it really matters."

"You have a far cooler head this year." McGonagall praised, though her eyes were slightly narrowed.

"There's pros and cons." Harry said.

For a second, there was a hint of a smile on her face. "Alright. Now, follow me, please."

Harry did, and she led him to the library. McGonagall spoke with Madam Pince for a moment, before leading Harry further into the shelves, and into the restricted section.

"Some people," McGonagall said pointedly to Harry, "Will try to gain an inheritance they were not born with."

"The Marauders." Harry said.

McGonagall nodded. "In their instance it was with good intentions. Some do not. Your father and godfather used a more... Well, instead of learning to channel their magic like a spell, those boys altered the essence of their magic."

Like I did, Harry thought. "So, it's more instinctual for them? And less... Skill?"

"Oh, no, it still takes skill," McGonagall said, "But their forms are more... Permanent."

"I only kind of understand." Harry said.

"I appreciate the honesty." McGonagall said, and then turned a corner, having found the right aisle.

"Ah." McGonagall said, recognizing the book in Draco Malfoy's hands. "It appears that the two of you may have to share. Good afternoon, gentlemen."

And McGonagall simply turned and left, leaving the two staring at each other, as if their hands had been caught in the cookie jar. A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

A/N

Someone called me out on Discord- so now I'm capitalizing the house names. You're welcome.

So- How are your theories holding up? New ones? I love reading y'all's comments.

In this I decided that the mandrake leaf way is a separate (and probably highly illegal) process than what is the standard approach. Basically the difference is that the Marauder's forms can't be lost. They can't lose the ability. Someone who uses it as a spell might lose the ability to continue using the spell. If that makes any sense.