Disclaimer: Much as I'd like to, I don't own Draco Malfoy, or any part of the magical world that J.K. Rowling has all the copyrights to ... please don't sue me. There are some parts of this story that are quotes from the book - it can't be helped - events are the same as in the book, but Draco's opinion of these events may vary from Harry's. Also, Cackle's Academy belongs to the Worst Witch.
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spacing, spelling and grammar, but I've edited out mention of Draco's birthday, and changed the date at the start of this chapter. Also, if I have any avid fans, you might want to read it through again anyway, to re-acquaint yourselves with Draco's first few years.
Chapter 1 - The Famous Harry Potter
I woke up early on the morning of the first of July, with an odd feeling ... mixed dread and excited anticipation. I knew I would get my letter inviting me to Hogwarts today ... I also knew that I would get the results of my exams from primary school today, as well. If I had failed, it would probably mean trouble, even if I did get the Hogwarts letter.
I snuck out of my bedroom, and downstairs - I found three letters waiting in the living room, with their respective owls. I paid the owls, and shooed them away. I opened the Hogwarts letter, as it was addressed to me, and no one would mind if it was opened ... I wanted desperately to see what the second letter said, but I didn't dare touch a letter address to my father without express permission. I had no idea what the third letter was about, but it, too, was address to my father, and I wasn't about to mess with it, either.
I was pleasantly surprised to see that the Hogwarts letter included a copy of my exam results - I had been hoping that this would be the case ... Hogwarts would have wanted to see how well I had done at my previous school, and they had told me that I had been accepted with honours, on the grounds that I had passed all my exams with flying colours (literally) - and they were looking forwards to teaching such an intelligent pupil. I smiled and returned to my room, with the letter. I re-read it again and again, to make sure I had read it right ... I had been afraid that I might have failed.
I had, of course, attended an all-magical primary school, where they automatically assumed that all students were well versed in knowledge of Quidditch and other similar magical things. This school only admitted children of magical families. However, they still taught almost the same curriculum as Muggle primary schools, because most witches and wizards only start to display magical powers at around the age of ten or eleven. Maths was my worst subject, but Basic Potions (which is pretty close to Muggle Chemistry), and Magical Physics were my best classes, and I had once managed to turn another student's toy broomstick into a rat, so I definitely wasn't a Squib. My father seemed particularly pleased that day, when my class teacher had visited, to tell him that he should teach his son not to be so cruel, for the rat incident. Now that's irony.
I thought, for a while, about what my father had told me about Hogwarts - if I even mentioned the word 'Hogwarts' to my father, he would start telling long and detailed stories of his own times at the wizarding school. There were four houses, and which house you were put in decided how everyone saw you. They were always listed in this order: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, but I seem to get the impression, from my father, that they should be listed in the opposite order, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and lastly Gryffindor.
From what I've been told, Slytherin is the BEST house to be in - the intelligent, cunning, ambitious, and most successful witches and wizards are all in Slytherin. Ravenclaw are all right, a bit bookish, and ever so slightly nerdy, but generally all right. Hufflepuff are a lot of old duffers, really dull and boring ... the sort who believe that hard work is the key to success - ha - anyone with half a brain could figure out that if you want to be successful you've got to make somebody else do all the hard work and then take credit for it! So in a way, you could conceive that Hufflepuffs had a use, in that respect. Then there's the Gryffindors - they are generally considered to be the best - most people seemed to think that these flamboyant, so-called-brave, generally stupid, intent on suicidal heroism, and notably Muggle-loving fools are so brilliant. They aren't of course. Slytherin is definitely the house I want to be in.
I heard a noise outside, and then a knock on my door. I glanced at my clock, which now said 'time for breakfast', and I was quite surprised that I had been awake for so long ... it had said 'go back to sleep, it's four in the morning' when I had retuned to my room with the letter. I then heard my mother's voice, through the door, "Draco, dear... it's time to get up."
I called back to her, "I'm already awake, Mother. I'll be down in a few minutes." I knew well enough that I had no need to shout ... my room is completely sound-proof, unless I wanted to be heard outside it, and if I wanted to be heard, she could have heard me if I had whispered. I dressed myself quickly, in some of my better clothes, including my favourite dress robes, which my mother had bought for me, as a Christmas present, last year. I looked in the mirror, to check that I looked presentable - the robes suited me - they were black velvet, with a dark green lining, magically lightweight, considering the material, and silver detail around the hems. I brushed my hair, which really didn't need it, and then rushed downstairs, as fast as I could, to the main dining room.
* * *
As I expected, my mother and father were both waiting for me. Father was holding both of the other two letters I had seen earlier, and reading the unidentified one. He looked up, and smiled at me, "Good morning, Draco."
"Good morning, Father." I responded, politely - always best to be polite to my father, especially if he's in a good mood, best he stays in a good mood.
"Good morning, Draco." my mother said, beaming.
"Do you have your Hogwarts letter? It should have arrived today, and it's not with the other post." Father asked, conversationally.
"Yes, Father, I have it. I've been accepted with honours, they said." I smiled, and handed the letter to him.
He read it, and his smile broadened, "Clever, Draco ... you seemed to have found a way of discovering your exam results before I did ... very clever ... and completely within the rules ... I must say, I've taught you well." he handed the Hogwarts letter back to me, and continued, "I assume, then, that you don't want to see this?" he asked, holding up the letter that I knew perfectly well had my exam results on it.
"I don't need to see it, no, Father." I answered, sitting down, and helping myself to some pancakes, which the house-elf had just brought to the table.
"I think, you might be interested in this, Draco." I looked up to see that he was now holding up the other letter, having put my exam results in his pocket.
I looked at the piece of parchment, hoping that I might be able to tell what it was, but to no avail - it was completely devoid of any identification that could be seen from my current position, "What is it, Father?" I asked, when I had decided I had no idea what it was.
"It is a letter of acceptance for Durmstrang Institute of Wizardry," he answered. I wondered, why he would want me to go to that school - he had always seemed so keen on the idea of me going to Hogwarts.
"Oh, Lucius, please!" Mother cried, standing up and looking at him, with a plaintive expression, "I thought we had discussed this! I really don't want Draco to go to that school - it's so far away!"
"I think it should be his choice," he said to her, making a calming motion and directing her back to her seat. "Draco." I turned my full attention to him, instead of my mother.
"Yes, Father?"
"You can choose from these two schools - Hogwarts or Durmstrang. Durmstrang teaches an impressive Dark Arts course, and it has a strict Pure-blood policy on both students and teachers - none of the Mudblood riff-raff that you would find at Hogwarts ... in fact, a friend of mine, who transferred to Hogwarts from Durmstrang once described it as 'an entire school of Slytherins'." he paused for a moment, and glanced at my mother, then said, "- of course it would be quite far away, and it is a relatively inhospitable climate - Hogwarts has an impeccable standard of learning in other areas, but their Defence Against the Dark Arts classes really are pathetic - we will let you choose." He then handed me the Durmstrang letter, and I looked at it for a few minutes.
I looked up at him, and said, "I'll need some time to think about it. I had always thought you wanted me to go to Hogwarts?"
"You choose - you deserve the right to decide where you will have your own education, at this age." Mother said. I nodded, dumbly, and then finished my breakfast in silence.
* * *
I left the table as soon as possible, and took both letters up to my room. They both contained a prospectus for their school. I read both of them from cover to cover. It didn't help much - they both looked appealing, for different reasons, most of which my father had already mentioned. I finally decided that I would go to Hogwarts - I had always assumed that I would go there, anyway - also, I had heard my father telling me, often enough, about Slytherin pride, and I wanted to uphold the family tradition, as a Slytherin. When I re-appeared in the dining room, at lunchtime, my father asked, "Have you decided yet?" without even looking at me.
"Yes." I said, and then hesitated for a fraction of a second before saying, "I want to go to Hogwarts."
He looked up at me, mildly surprised, I think, then said, "Very well, then ... you will go to Hogwarts." he turned his attention back to his food, and proceeded to completely ignore me for the whole afternoon.
* * *
I had to go to Pansy's birthday party that evening. All my schoolmates were there, including some of the ones I would rather have avoided - Pansy herself, for a start - she is the most annoying girl I have ever met, and what's worse, I think she liked me. Then there were Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle - everyone, and I do mean everyone, calls them Crabbe and Goyle, even their own family - it's really strange, but they don't seem to mind, so that's just what we call them. Those two are O.K., but they are so stupid, it really is unbelievable. They sort of started hanging around me since I first started primary school, and they haven't had a mind of their own, between them, since - they won't do something unless they're told to, and they'll do whatever I tell them - it's almost comical - I sometimes wonder if they would jump in front of a train if I told them to - they probably would, you know. Those three are the only ones, from my old school, who are going to Hogwarts - the rest were all going to Durmstrang, or Cackle's (which is a private school for witchcraft, somewhere in the south of England) - I was actually glad to get rid of most of them, but I wished Pansy would go somewhere else, as well. I think she only chose to go to Hogwarts because she knew that's where I was going - she either really likes me or she really wants to torture me - maybe both ... either way, this birthday party was the last time I saw most of my old school friends - I won't bore you with the details, because this story is about Hogwarts.
* * *
My father soon seemed to forget all about Durmstrang, and life returned to normal, over the rest of the holidays. In August, both my parents took me to Diagon Alley - I had been there many times before (and Knockturn Alley, as well) - to buy my school things. We bought my wand, first, at Ollivander's. Ollivander is a strange old man, he must have a photographic memory, or maybe he uses a memory enhancing charm, because he was able to recite the exact specifications of my mother's wand, and the four wands my father bought there (he broke his first wand in his sixth year at school, his second a year before I was born, and his third when I was five). The thirteenth wand I tried was perfect. It was ebony, with a unicorn tail-hair, and it cost thirteen galleons. An expensive wand, but we could easily afford it - we are one of the wealthiest wizarding families in the world, after all. Thirteen has always been my lucky number, and it seems to show up in a lot of things that I do - Mother says it's probably my sub-conscious, magically influencing the world around me. Mother stayed behind, to get a wand to replace the one that she had broken (I'm not sure how, but I think she may have thrown it at the house-elf - rotten little creature didn't have the courtesy to stand still and let the wand hit it, and her wand snapped on the wall behind the house-elf - so I was told.)
"Alright, Draco, you go in here, and get your uniform, I will be next door, buying your school books." Father said.
"Yes, Father." I said, and watched him walk into the bookshop, Flourish and Blotts. I turned, and entered the shop next door to that, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. It looked a lot more like a shop than Ollivander's had, but I knew that, anyway, because I had been here before - most of my cheaper clothes came from here (and this is the best clothes shop in Diagon Alley - you have to go abroad to Europe or America to get better).
Madam Malkin, a dumpy old witch, appeared almost immediately and asked me, "Ah, young Master Malfoy. Here to buy your Hogwarts robes, then?"
"Yes." I said imperiously. She already knew me very well. Well she should - she gets in special orders for me, very often - all the latest fashions, as they come out - I get them around the same time that the magazines publish the fact that they are the latest trend.
"If you'll just stand up here, so I can measure these, then." she said, holding a set of rather dull looking robes. 'Oh, well,' I thought, 'all the other kids will be wearing them, so at least I won't be the only one who looks a fool in these.' I stepped up onto the stool, and she threw the robes over my head. She set about pinning them up to the right length, and it was then that I heard someone else enter the shop. I looked up, and saw a boy with black hair and glasses ... obviously young, probably about my age ... from the looks of those clothes, he seemed poorer than a Weasley, and that really is saying something - not just that, though, but those were Muggle clothes. 'Ugh - I don't want to be around a Mudblood,' I thought, 'Oh, great.' She told him to stand up next to me ... I assumed he must be my age, if he was being fitted for Hogwarts robes, as well.
"Hello," I said, trying to sound like I wanted to talk to him - always be polite to someone you don't know, until you're absolutely certain you hate them, "Hogwarts, too?"
"Yes," the boy answered. He sounded O.K. I'd never met a Mudblood before - he sounded like any other boy. 'Maybe he is a real wizard,' I thought.
I decided to try talk to him, "My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands, Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." He didn't answer. "Have you got your own broom?"
"No,"
'He's really friendly,' I thought sarcastically. "Play Quidditch at all?" I asked, trying to sound like I hadn't noticed how exceedingly rude he was being.
"No,"
'Is he only capable of saying 'yes' and 'no'?' I thought. "I do - Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"
"No,"
'Maybe he is a Mudblood,' I thought, then. But still continued. "Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"
"Mmm,"
'Wow - he actually made a sound that wasn't a 'yes' or a 'no'!' I thought. He really was beginning to try my patience. I saw someone, outside, waving, maniacally, holding ice creams, and looking completely crazy, "I say, look at that man!" I said, trying to find something to get this boy to actually talk.
"That's Hagrid," he said, "He works at Hogwarts." I remembered Father saying something about Hagrid - he was expelled, and kept on as some sort of menial worker.
"Oh, I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?" I said.
"He's the gamekeeper," now, I thought he sounded deliberately rude, here, but I wasn't sure.
"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage - lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed." I thought this might actually be considered funny - obviously he didn't think so.
"I think he's brilliant," he said, with a definite icy tone, in his voice.
"Do you?" I had decided I didn't much like this boy, and I was showing it, in the tone of my voice, now, "Why, is he with you? Where are your parents?"
"They're dead,"
'Dead?' I thought - I really had no idea what to say to someone who had just told me their parents were dead ... I hadn't met many people who's parents were dead, nor for that matter, had I met ANY people who would just say so, like that. "Oh, sorry," I said, not really sure if it sounded believable, but I'm not good at saying that word, "But they were our kind, weren't they?" well you didn't expect me not to ask, did you?
"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."
'So he is a wizard, then,' I thought, 'well at least I've not been talking to a Mudblood - probably raised by Muggles, though, if you look at the clothes - pity him, really.' "I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"
I really wanted to know what family he was from, but Madam Malkin spoke before he could answer, "That's you done, my dear,"
He seemed in quite a hurry to go, and I just had time to say, "Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," before he had left. I spent the next ten minutes wondering who he was, but forgot all about him quite promptly upon arriving at Quality Quidditch Supplies, where Father did buy me several of the things I had asked for, including a book called 'A Guide to Quidditch Strategies, and How to Get Away with Cheating', but he refused to buy me a broomstick.
"You can have a broom when you are playing for your house team." he said, quite firmly. That basically translated as 'not until next year'. It took a full five minutes for him to drag me away from staring at the latest model of racing broom - a Nimbus 2000. After that, we went to Eeylops Owl Emporium, where Father bought me an eagle owl - the best owl they had in the whole shop. It's still not as good as the one Father uses for his Ministry work, but it's got to be an awful lot better than anything any other student is likely to have. We met Mother back at the Leaky Cauldron, and returned home, using Floo powder. I spent the rest of the holidays reading my new books.
* * *
"Draco, dear. The train leaves in an hour. You need to get ready." Mother's voice woke me up, on the first of September.
I looked at my clock, which said, 'wake up, you lazy boy - it's already ten in the morning'. "I'm awake, Mother" I called back. I heard her footsteps receding down the corridor, and I then got dressed, in the clothes I was going to wear at school - the clothes I would wear under my robes, that is - my robes were all packed into my trunk, already. I looked at myself, in the mirror - I do that every day - and checked that the clothes looked right - black trousers, and a deep green sweater - all the best quality, most expensive, designer labels - I wore green because I was certain that I would be in Slytherin.
I hurried downstairs, almost tripping up, as I skidded into the dining room. Mother was there, but I think Father was at work, already. I ate my breakfast, hurriedly, not really paying attention to what I was eating, because I was too excited about starting Hogwarts, today. When I had finished, Mother said, "Well, well, Draco - I am surprised."
I looked at her, confusion showing on my face, "Why, Mother?"
"Well, you ate everything on your plate - you really must not have been paying attention, or you would have noticed that there were mushrooms there." she said, smiling.
I made a gagging noise, and when I had finished unsuccessfully trying to be sick I asked, "Why'd you do that?"
"I didn't - it was Dobby's fault, but I just didn't mention it," she said.
"Urg - you know I hate mushrooms." I said, quite annoyed, now.
"Yes, but you didn't seem to mind, until I told you, now did you?" she said, triumphantly, as if she had accomplished the impossible - really, she probably had - getting me to do something I wouldn't normally want to is a major achievement. "You'd better hurry up, Draco. The train will be leaving in fifteen minutes, and you have to get to the station."
"Big deal - Floo Powder, right?" I said. She nodded, "Then we've still got time."
"Not really - get your things, we're going now," she said. Reluctantly, I returned to my room, and dragged my trunk down the stairs, to the fireplace. Mother was waiting for me, and we had five minutes left before the train was due to depart. She threw the Floo Powder into the fireplace, stepped forwards with my trunk, and said, "King's Cross, Platform Nine-and-three-quarters". I was sure I had heard wrong, but I wasn't about to go to the wrong grate, so I repeated her exact words as I stepped into the fireplace myself.
* * *
I found myself on Platform Nine-and-three-quarters - there was a large scarlet steam train with the words 'Hogwarts Express' on it, and hundreds of children and their parents were milling around the platform. Obviously I had heard right. We made our way to the nearest door onto the train, and Mother helped me lift my trunk up onto the luggage rack, before hugging me and telling me to owl her as often as I could. As the train pulled out, I waved to her and then sat back down again. I had no sooner sat down than the door to my compartment opened and Pansy appeared.
"Hello, Draco." she said, smiling that sickly sweet smile that always reminds me of a demented pixie (I mean that literally - that smile always makes me think of a Cornish Pixie that got on the wrong side of a Dementor).
"Hello, Pansy." I said, trying my best to sound like I really didn't want to talk to her - this was quite easy because I really DIDN'T want to talk to her.
She obviously didn't notice - or didn't care, "So, how are you, then, Draco?"
"I was in a very good mood, before you arrived." I said.
"And what's wrong, now?" she asked, sounding almost concerned.
"You. I don't want to talk to you, right now." I said, trying to sound diplomatic - which is difficult when someone is really bugging you like this.
"Oh … well, I was thinking -" she started.
"What part of 'I don't want to talk to you' don't you understand?" I snapped, "Is it the 'don't', or the 'you'? I know that you know what the words 'want' and 'talk' mean. Just leave me alone, Pansy."
"Humph - well if you're going to be rude -"
"I am - now go away." I said coldly. She stormed off, probably going to annoy someone else - pity them, whoever they are.
Not five minutes passed before Crabbe and Goyle showed up - I guess it took their slow brains this long to work out where I was, as we were already out of London now. "Hello, Malfoy." I hate that they call me Malfoy - my name is Draco, but I guess everyone calls them by their last names, so they call everyone else by their last names, too.
"What took you two so long?" I asked.
"We - er - were attacked by a tarantula." Goyle said.
"A third year dropped it on us, and it nearly bit me." Crabbe said - their dull monotone voices making their lack of intelligence blatantly obvious.
I snorted, and pointed them to the seat opposite me. "Sit." I said, as if I was ordering a dog - they seem to take orders best in that form. They sat. I reached up into my trunk, in the luggage rack, and took out my Transfiguration textbook. I started reading, while Crabbe and Goyle just stared into space, looking completely devoid of any form of intelligence - it amazes me how anyone can be quite that stupid and still appear human.
After a while, a woman with a snack trolley appeared outside the compartment, "Anything from the trolley, dears?" she asked.
I looked at Crabbe and Goyle, who just continued to look like stupidity incarnate. I then turned to her and said, "A box of every flavour beans, and three chocolate frogs."
"Certainly, dear." she handed me the sweets, and I paid her. She left, and I threw two of the chocolate frogs at Crabbe and Goyle. Amazingly, they caught them - they may be stupid, but they do have good reflexes - they'd probably make good Beaters, if they ever played Quidditch - if it weren't for the fact that they would never be able to follow a game plan. Anyway - they each ate their chocolate frogs in one bite, and started into the every flavour beans - I really have never met anyone who can eat quite as much as these two. The beans had all disappeared before I had even half eaten my own chocolate frog.
I was just about to start reading, again, when I heard some noise outside the compartment, and a girl looked in. She had bushy brown hair and brown eyes - not bad-looking, actually - and was wearing the basic black robes that indicated she hadn't been Sorted, yet, "Have either of you seen a toad? Only a boy named Neville has lost one." her voice was pretty snobbish - on first impressions, I liked this girl.
"Who would want a toad? If I brought a toad to school, I'd be keen to lose it," she looked a bit miffed, so I added, "No, I haven't seen a toad."
"Oh … well, if you do, could you please tell us? We're in the compartment right next to yours," she asked.
"Sure. No problem." I said, smiling. She left, and I went to see where all the noise was coming from.
I looked out the door, and saw a group of - probably third years - muttering about something. I would guess that two of them were Weasleys, because of their hair. I listened for a minute. I heard only a few words of what they said - one of the Weasleys was saying, "I swear - it's not a joke - I solemnly swear that Harry Potter is on this train, right now - down there." he pointed past me, to a compartment on the opposite side of the train, "He's really here - he's starting Hogwarts this year..." I watched as the girl who had asked about the toad went to the compartment the Weasley boy had pointed to - probably asking if they've seen the toad, too.
I watched for another minute, and then said, "Crabbe, Goyle. Come with me." and started walking towards the compartment.
We passed the girl, in the corridor, with a crying boy - probably the one who lost the toad - anyone pathetic enough to bring a toad was probably pathetic enough to cry over it. "Did you find it, yet?" she asked.
"Not yet - we heard Harry Potter was down this way..." I said, trying to sound friendly.
"Yes - he's just in there." she pointed to where she had come from, and then said, "I'll see you later, then?"
I nodded, and she left with the crybaby - what had she said his name was? Neville. Come to think of it, I hadn't caught her name.
* * *
I opened the door of the compartment, where I had been told Harry Potter was, and looked in, "Is it true?" I asked, looking at the two boys in the compartment - one was obviously a Weasley, and the other was the boy I'd met in Madam Malkin's. My gaze settled on the black haired boy, "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"
"Yes," the black haired boy said - so this was the famous Harry Potter.
I noticed he was looking past me, at Crabbe and Goyle - they can be a bit intimidating, if you don't know them … or if they don't like you. "Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," I told him, pointing at Crabbe and Goyle as I said it, "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."
The boy I assumed was a Weasley gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. I turned to look at him - I was used to the jokes about my name, from primary school, "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." Well that shut him up. I turned back to Harry Potter, "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." I held out my hand to shake his, but he didn't take it.
"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coldly.
He was insulting me - he decided he didn't like me, without even giving me a chance. "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," I said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."
Both Potter and Weasley stood up. "Say that again," Weasley said angrily.
"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" I asked, quite surprised that they'd dare, with Crabbe and Goyle as my bodyguards.
"Unless you get out now," said Potter. He sounded like a Gryffindor, 'that's probably where he'll end up - Gryffindor' I thought, 'what a waste'.
"But we don't feet like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some." I said, now trying to provoke them - we'd definitely win in a straight fight, and since we never play fair, anyway, they would have had no hope of beating us.
Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Weasley, and suddenly yelled - there was a rat, with its teeth sunk into Goyle's hand!
The minute Goyle had detached the rat from his finger, we all left and disappeared down the train. I nearly bumped into the bushy-haired girl again, but she was in a hurry, and I didn't try to stop her.
* * *
We returned to our own compartment, and I sank into the seat, "What did I say wrong?"
Crabbe and Goyle looked dumbly at me.
"What did I do? Why didn't he want to be my friend? It's not like I insulted him - all I did was insult Weasley, and that's something I've been doing all my life - why is he such a prat?"
Crabbe and Goyle continued to look like they're brains were substituted for by cotton wool.
"You two are a lot of help." I said, sarcastically, "You do realise these aren't actually rhetorical questions? I really was hoping you could tell me what I said wrong, that made him think I'm - not likeable ... well?"
"No idea." they chorused, synchronously.
"Fat lot of use you are." I muttered, and reverted to reading the Standard Book of Spells.
* * *
End of chapter 1
Author's Notes: I needed to do some re-writing, after reading OotP. I have made some minor changes to this chapter, mostly spacing, spelling and grammar, but I've edited out mention of Draco's birthday, and changed the date at the start of this chapter. Also, if I have any avid fans, you might want to read it through again anyway, to re-acquaint yourselves with Draco's first few years.
Chapter 1 - The Famous Harry Potter
I woke up early on the morning of the first of July, with an odd feeling ... mixed dread and excited anticipation. I knew I would get my letter inviting me to Hogwarts today ... I also knew that I would get the results of my exams from primary school today, as well. If I had failed, it would probably mean trouble, even if I did get the Hogwarts letter.
I snuck out of my bedroom, and downstairs - I found three letters waiting in the living room, with their respective owls. I paid the owls, and shooed them away. I opened the Hogwarts letter, as it was addressed to me, and no one would mind if it was opened ... I wanted desperately to see what the second letter said, but I didn't dare touch a letter address to my father without express permission. I had no idea what the third letter was about, but it, too, was address to my father, and I wasn't about to mess with it, either.
I was pleasantly surprised to see that the Hogwarts letter included a copy of my exam results - I had been hoping that this would be the case ... Hogwarts would have wanted to see how well I had done at my previous school, and they had told me that I had been accepted with honours, on the grounds that I had passed all my exams with flying colours (literally) - and they were looking forwards to teaching such an intelligent pupil. I smiled and returned to my room, with the letter. I re-read it again and again, to make sure I had read it right ... I had been afraid that I might have failed.
I had, of course, attended an all-magical primary school, where they automatically assumed that all students were well versed in knowledge of Quidditch and other similar magical things. This school only admitted children of magical families. However, they still taught almost the same curriculum as Muggle primary schools, because most witches and wizards only start to display magical powers at around the age of ten or eleven. Maths was my worst subject, but Basic Potions (which is pretty close to Muggle Chemistry), and Magical Physics were my best classes, and I had once managed to turn another student's toy broomstick into a rat, so I definitely wasn't a Squib. My father seemed particularly pleased that day, when my class teacher had visited, to tell him that he should teach his son not to be so cruel, for the rat incident. Now that's irony.
I thought, for a while, about what my father had told me about Hogwarts - if I even mentioned the word 'Hogwarts' to my father, he would start telling long and detailed stories of his own times at the wizarding school. There were four houses, and which house you were put in decided how everyone saw you. They were always listed in this order: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, but I seem to get the impression, from my father, that they should be listed in the opposite order, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and lastly Gryffindor.
From what I've been told, Slytherin is the BEST house to be in - the intelligent, cunning, ambitious, and most successful witches and wizards are all in Slytherin. Ravenclaw are all right, a bit bookish, and ever so slightly nerdy, but generally all right. Hufflepuff are a lot of old duffers, really dull and boring ... the sort who believe that hard work is the key to success - ha - anyone with half a brain could figure out that if you want to be successful you've got to make somebody else do all the hard work and then take credit for it! So in a way, you could conceive that Hufflepuffs had a use, in that respect. Then there's the Gryffindors - they are generally considered to be the best - most people seemed to think that these flamboyant, so-called-brave, generally stupid, intent on suicidal heroism, and notably Muggle-loving fools are so brilliant. They aren't of course. Slytherin is definitely the house I want to be in.
I heard a noise outside, and then a knock on my door. I glanced at my clock, which now said 'time for breakfast', and I was quite surprised that I had been awake for so long ... it had said 'go back to sleep, it's four in the morning' when I had retuned to my room with the letter. I then heard my mother's voice, through the door, "Draco, dear... it's time to get up."
I called back to her, "I'm already awake, Mother. I'll be down in a few minutes." I knew well enough that I had no need to shout ... my room is completely sound-proof, unless I wanted to be heard outside it, and if I wanted to be heard, she could have heard me if I had whispered. I dressed myself quickly, in some of my better clothes, including my favourite dress robes, which my mother had bought for me, as a Christmas present, last year. I looked in the mirror, to check that I looked presentable - the robes suited me - they were black velvet, with a dark green lining, magically lightweight, considering the material, and silver detail around the hems. I brushed my hair, which really didn't need it, and then rushed downstairs, as fast as I could, to the main dining room.
* * *
As I expected, my mother and father were both waiting for me. Father was holding both of the other two letters I had seen earlier, and reading the unidentified one. He looked up, and smiled at me, "Good morning, Draco."
"Good morning, Father." I responded, politely - always best to be polite to my father, especially if he's in a good mood, best he stays in a good mood.
"Good morning, Draco." my mother said, beaming.
"Do you have your Hogwarts letter? It should have arrived today, and it's not with the other post." Father asked, conversationally.
"Yes, Father, I have it. I've been accepted with honours, they said." I smiled, and handed the letter to him.
He read it, and his smile broadened, "Clever, Draco ... you seemed to have found a way of discovering your exam results before I did ... very clever ... and completely within the rules ... I must say, I've taught you well." he handed the Hogwarts letter back to me, and continued, "I assume, then, that you don't want to see this?" he asked, holding up the letter that I knew perfectly well had my exam results on it.
"I don't need to see it, no, Father." I answered, sitting down, and helping myself to some pancakes, which the house-elf had just brought to the table.
"I think, you might be interested in this, Draco." I looked up to see that he was now holding up the other letter, having put my exam results in his pocket.
I looked at the piece of parchment, hoping that I might be able to tell what it was, but to no avail - it was completely devoid of any identification that could be seen from my current position, "What is it, Father?" I asked, when I had decided I had no idea what it was.
"It is a letter of acceptance for Durmstrang Institute of Wizardry," he answered. I wondered, why he would want me to go to that school - he had always seemed so keen on the idea of me going to Hogwarts.
"Oh, Lucius, please!" Mother cried, standing up and looking at him, with a plaintive expression, "I thought we had discussed this! I really don't want Draco to go to that school - it's so far away!"
"I think it should be his choice," he said to her, making a calming motion and directing her back to her seat. "Draco." I turned my full attention to him, instead of my mother.
"Yes, Father?"
"You can choose from these two schools - Hogwarts or Durmstrang. Durmstrang teaches an impressive Dark Arts course, and it has a strict Pure-blood policy on both students and teachers - none of the Mudblood riff-raff that you would find at Hogwarts ... in fact, a friend of mine, who transferred to Hogwarts from Durmstrang once described it as 'an entire school of Slytherins'." he paused for a moment, and glanced at my mother, then said, "- of course it would be quite far away, and it is a relatively inhospitable climate - Hogwarts has an impeccable standard of learning in other areas, but their Defence Against the Dark Arts classes really are pathetic - we will let you choose." He then handed me the Durmstrang letter, and I looked at it for a few minutes.
I looked up at him, and said, "I'll need some time to think about it. I had always thought you wanted me to go to Hogwarts?"
"You choose - you deserve the right to decide where you will have your own education, at this age." Mother said. I nodded, dumbly, and then finished my breakfast in silence.
* * *
I left the table as soon as possible, and took both letters up to my room. They both contained a prospectus for their school. I read both of them from cover to cover. It didn't help much - they both looked appealing, for different reasons, most of which my father had already mentioned. I finally decided that I would go to Hogwarts - I had always assumed that I would go there, anyway - also, I had heard my father telling me, often enough, about Slytherin pride, and I wanted to uphold the family tradition, as a Slytherin. When I re-appeared in the dining room, at lunchtime, my father asked, "Have you decided yet?" without even looking at me.
"Yes." I said, and then hesitated for a fraction of a second before saying, "I want to go to Hogwarts."
He looked up at me, mildly surprised, I think, then said, "Very well, then ... you will go to Hogwarts." he turned his attention back to his food, and proceeded to completely ignore me for the whole afternoon.
* * *
I had to go to Pansy's birthday party that evening. All my schoolmates were there, including some of the ones I would rather have avoided - Pansy herself, for a start - she is the most annoying girl I have ever met, and what's worse, I think she liked me. Then there were Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle - everyone, and I do mean everyone, calls them Crabbe and Goyle, even their own family - it's really strange, but they don't seem to mind, so that's just what we call them. Those two are O.K., but they are so stupid, it really is unbelievable. They sort of started hanging around me since I first started primary school, and they haven't had a mind of their own, between them, since - they won't do something unless they're told to, and they'll do whatever I tell them - it's almost comical - I sometimes wonder if they would jump in front of a train if I told them to - they probably would, you know. Those three are the only ones, from my old school, who are going to Hogwarts - the rest were all going to Durmstrang, or Cackle's (which is a private school for witchcraft, somewhere in the south of England) - I was actually glad to get rid of most of them, but I wished Pansy would go somewhere else, as well. I think she only chose to go to Hogwarts because she knew that's where I was going - she either really likes me or she really wants to torture me - maybe both ... either way, this birthday party was the last time I saw most of my old school friends - I won't bore you with the details, because this story is about Hogwarts.
* * *
My father soon seemed to forget all about Durmstrang, and life returned to normal, over the rest of the holidays. In August, both my parents took me to Diagon Alley - I had been there many times before (and Knockturn Alley, as well) - to buy my school things. We bought my wand, first, at Ollivander's. Ollivander is a strange old man, he must have a photographic memory, or maybe he uses a memory enhancing charm, because he was able to recite the exact specifications of my mother's wand, and the four wands my father bought there (he broke his first wand in his sixth year at school, his second a year before I was born, and his third when I was five). The thirteenth wand I tried was perfect. It was ebony, with a unicorn tail-hair, and it cost thirteen galleons. An expensive wand, but we could easily afford it - we are one of the wealthiest wizarding families in the world, after all. Thirteen has always been my lucky number, and it seems to show up in a lot of things that I do - Mother says it's probably my sub-conscious, magically influencing the world around me. Mother stayed behind, to get a wand to replace the one that she had broken (I'm not sure how, but I think she may have thrown it at the house-elf - rotten little creature didn't have the courtesy to stand still and let the wand hit it, and her wand snapped on the wall behind the house-elf - so I was told.)
"Alright, Draco, you go in here, and get your uniform, I will be next door, buying your school books." Father said.
"Yes, Father." I said, and watched him walk into the bookshop, Flourish and Blotts. I turned, and entered the shop next door to that, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. It looked a lot more like a shop than Ollivander's had, but I knew that, anyway, because I had been here before - most of my cheaper clothes came from here (and this is the best clothes shop in Diagon Alley - you have to go abroad to Europe or America to get better).
Madam Malkin, a dumpy old witch, appeared almost immediately and asked me, "Ah, young Master Malfoy. Here to buy your Hogwarts robes, then?"
"Yes." I said imperiously. She already knew me very well. Well she should - she gets in special orders for me, very often - all the latest fashions, as they come out - I get them around the same time that the magazines publish the fact that they are the latest trend.
"If you'll just stand up here, so I can measure these, then." she said, holding a set of rather dull looking robes. 'Oh, well,' I thought, 'all the other kids will be wearing them, so at least I won't be the only one who looks a fool in these.' I stepped up onto the stool, and she threw the robes over my head. She set about pinning them up to the right length, and it was then that I heard someone else enter the shop. I looked up, and saw a boy with black hair and glasses ... obviously young, probably about my age ... from the looks of those clothes, he seemed poorer than a Weasley, and that really is saying something - not just that, though, but those were Muggle clothes. 'Ugh - I don't want to be around a Mudblood,' I thought, 'Oh, great.' She told him to stand up next to me ... I assumed he must be my age, if he was being fitted for Hogwarts robes, as well.
"Hello," I said, trying to sound like I wanted to talk to him - always be polite to someone you don't know, until you're absolutely certain you hate them, "Hogwarts, too?"
"Yes," the boy answered. He sounded O.K. I'd never met a Mudblood before - he sounded like any other boy. 'Maybe he is a real wizard,' I thought.
I decided to try talk to him, "My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands, Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." He didn't answer. "Have you got your own broom?"
"No,"
'He's really friendly,' I thought sarcastically. "Play Quidditch at all?" I asked, trying to sound like I hadn't noticed how exceedingly rude he was being.
"No,"
'Is he only capable of saying 'yes' and 'no'?' I thought. "I do - Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"
"No,"
'Maybe he is a Mudblood,' I thought, then. But still continued. "Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"
"Mmm,"
'Wow - he actually made a sound that wasn't a 'yes' or a 'no'!' I thought. He really was beginning to try my patience. I saw someone, outside, waving, maniacally, holding ice creams, and looking completely crazy, "I say, look at that man!" I said, trying to find something to get this boy to actually talk.
"That's Hagrid," he said, "He works at Hogwarts." I remembered Father saying something about Hagrid - he was expelled, and kept on as some sort of menial worker.
"Oh, I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?" I said.
"He's the gamekeeper," now, I thought he sounded deliberately rude, here, but I wasn't sure.
"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage - lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed." I thought this might actually be considered funny - obviously he didn't think so.
"I think he's brilliant," he said, with a definite icy tone, in his voice.
"Do you?" I had decided I didn't much like this boy, and I was showing it, in the tone of my voice, now, "Why, is he with you? Where are your parents?"
"They're dead,"
'Dead?' I thought - I really had no idea what to say to someone who had just told me their parents were dead ... I hadn't met many people who's parents were dead, nor for that matter, had I met ANY people who would just say so, like that. "Oh, sorry," I said, not really sure if it sounded believable, but I'm not good at saying that word, "But they were our kind, weren't they?" well you didn't expect me not to ask, did you?
"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."
'So he is a wizard, then,' I thought, 'well at least I've not been talking to a Mudblood - probably raised by Muggles, though, if you look at the clothes - pity him, really.' "I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"
I really wanted to know what family he was from, but Madam Malkin spoke before he could answer, "That's you done, my dear,"
He seemed in quite a hurry to go, and I just had time to say, "Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," before he had left. I spent the next ten minutes wondering who he was, but forgot all about him quite promptly upon arriving at Quality Quidditch Supplies, where Father did buy me several of the things I had asked for, including a book called 'A Guide to Quidditch Strategies, and How to Get Away with Cheating', but he refused to buy me a broomstick.
"You can have a broom when you are playing for your house team." he said, quite firmly. That basically translated as 'not until next year'. It took a full five minutes for him to drag me away from staring at the latest model of racing broom - a Nimbus 2000. After that, we went to Eeylops Owl Emporium, where Father bought me an eagle owl - the best owl they had in the whole shop. It's still not as good as the one Father uses for his Ministry work, but it's got to be an awful lot better than anything any other student is likely to have. We met Mother back at the Leaky Cauldron, and returned home, using Floo powder. I spent the rest of the holidays reading my new books.
* * *
"Draco, dear. The train leaves in an hour. You need to get ready." Mother's voice woke me up, on the first of September.
I looked at my clock, which said, 'wake up, you lazy boy - it's already ten in the morning'. "I'm awake, Mother" I called back. I heard her footsteps receding down the corridor, and I then got dressed, in the clothes I was going to wear at school - the clothes I would wear under my robes, that is - my robes were all packed into my trunk, already. I looked at myself, in the mirror - I do that every day - and checked that the clothes looked right - black trousers, and a deep green sweater - all the best quality, most expensive, designer labels - I wore green because I was certain that I would be in Slytherin.
I hurried downstairs, almost tripping up, as I skidded into the dining room. Mother was there, but I think Father was at work, already. I ate my breakfast, hurriedly, not really paying attention to what I was eating, because I was too excited about starting Hogwarts, today. When I had finished, Mother said, "Well, well, Draco - I am surprised."
I looked at her, confusion showing on my face, "Why, Mother?"
"Well, you ate everything on your plate - you really must not have been paying attention, or you would have noticed that there were mushrooms there." she said, smiling.
I made a gagging noise, and when I had finished unsuccessfully trying to be sick I asked, "Why'd you do that?"
"I didn't - it was Dobby's fault, but I just didn't mention it," she said.
"Urg - you know I hate mushrooms." I said, quite annoyed, now.
"Yes, but you didn't seem to mind, until I told you, now did you?" she said, triumphantly, as if she had accomplished the impossible - really, she probably had - getting me to do something I wouldn't normally want to is a major achievement. "You'd better hurry up, Draco. The train will be leaving in fifteen minutes, and you have to get to the station."
"Big deal - Floo Powder, right?" I said. She nodded, "Then we've still got time."
"Not really - get your things, we're going now," she said. Reluctantly, I returned to my room, and dragged my trunk down the stairs, to the fireplace. Mother was waiting for me, and we had five minutes left before the train was due to depart. She threw the Floo Powder into the fireplace, stepped forwards with my trunk, and said, "King's Cross, Platform Nine-and-three-quarters". I was sure I had heard wrong, but I wasn't about to go to the wrong grate, so I repeated her exact words as I stepped into the fireplace myself.
* * *
I found myself on Platform Nine-and-three-quarters - there was a large scarlet steam train with the words 'Hogwarts Express' on it, and hundreds of children and their parents were milling around the platform. Obviously I had heard right. We made our way to the nearest door onto the train, and Mother helped me lift my trunk up onto the luggage rack, before hugging me and telling me to owl her as often as I could. As the train pulled out, I waved to her and then sat back down again. I had no sooner sat down than the door to my compartment opened and Pansy appeared.
"Hello, Draco." she said, smiling that sickly sweet smile that always reminds me of a demented pixie (I mean that literally - that smile always makes me think of a Cornish Pixie that got on the wrong side of a Dementor).
"Hello, Pansy." I said, trying my best to sound like I really didn't want to talk to her - this was quite easy because I really DIDN'T want to talk to her.
She obviously didn't notice - or didn't care, "So, how are you, then, Draco?"
"I was in a very good mood, before you arrived." I said.
"And what's wrong, now?" she asked, sounding almost concerned.
"You. I don't want to talk to you, right now." I said, trying to sound diplomatic - which is difficult when someone is really bugging you like this.
"Oh … well, I was thinking -" she started.
"What part of 'I don't want to talk to you' don't you understand?" I snapped, "Is it the 'don't', or the 'you'? I know that you know what the words 'want' and 'talk' mean. Just leave me alone, Pansy."
"Humph - well if you're going to be rude -"
"I am - now go away." I said coldly. She stormed off, probably going to annoy someone else - pity them, whoever they are.
Not five minutes passed before Crabbe and Goyle showed up - I guess it took their slow brains this long to work out where I was, as we were already out of London now. "Hello, Malfoy." I hate that they call me Malfoy - my name is Draco, but I guess everyone calls them by their last names, so they call everyone else by their last names, too.
"What took you two so long?" I asked.
"We - er - were attacked by a tarantula." Goyle said.
"A third year dropped it on us, and it nearly bit me." Crabbe said - their dull monotone voices making their lack of intelligence blatantly obvious.
I snorted, and pointed them to the seat opposite me. "Sit." I said, as if I was ordering a dog - they seem to take orders best in that form. They sat. I reached up into my trunk, in the luggage rack, and took out my Transfiguration textbook. I started reading, while Crabbe and Goyle just stared into space, looking completely devoid of any form of intelligence - it amazes me how anyone can be quite that stupid and still appear human.
After a while, a woman with a snack trolley appeared outside the compartment, "Anything from the trolley, dears?" she asked.
I looked at Crabbe and Goyle, who just continued to look like stupidity incarnate. I then turned to her and said, "A box of every flavour beans, and three chocolate frogs."
"Certainly, dear." she handed me the sweets, and I paid her. She left, and I threw two of the chocolate frogs at Crabbe and Goyle. Amazingly, they caught them - they may be stupid, but they do have good reflexes - they'd probably make good Beaters, if they ever played Quidditch - if it weren't for the fact that they would never be able to follow a game plan. Anyway - they each ate their chocolate frogs in one bite, and started into the every flavour beans - I really have never met anyone who can eat quite as much as these two. The beans had all disappeared before I had even half eaten my own chocolate frog.
I was just about to start reading, again, when I heard some noise outside the compartment, and a girl looked in. She had bushy brown hair and brown eyes - not bad-looking, actually - and was wearing the basic black robes that indicated she hadn't been Sorted, yet, "Have either of you seen a toad? Only a boy named Neville has lost one." her voice was pretty snobbish - on first impressions, I liked this girl.
"Who would want a toad? If I brought a toad to school, I'd be keen to lose it," she looked a bit miffed, so I added, "No, I haven't seen a toad."
"Oh … well, if you do, could you please tell us? We're in the compartment right next to yours," she asked.
"Sure. No problem." I said, smiling. She left, and I went to see where all the noise was coming from.
I looked out the door, and saw a group of - probably third years - muttering about something. I would guess that two of them were Weasleys, because of their hair. I listened for a minute. I heard only a few words of what they said - one of the Weasleys was saying, "I swear - it's not a joke - I solemnly swear that Harry Potter is on this train, right now - down there." he pointed past me, to a compartment on the opposite side of the train, "He's really here - he's starting Hogwarts this year..." I watched as the girl who had asked about the toad went to the compartment the Weasley boy had pointed to - probably asking if they've seen the toad, too.
I watched for another minute, and then said, "Crabbe, Goyle. Come with me." and started walking towards the compartment.
We passed the girl, in the corridor, with a crying boy - probably the one who lost the toad - anyone pathetic enough to bring a toad was probably pathetic enough to cry over it. "Did you find it, yet?" she asked.
"Not yet - we heard Harry Potter was down this way..." I said, trying to sound friendly.
"Yes - he's just in there." she pointed to where she had come from, and then said, "I'll see you later, then?"
I nodded, and she left with the crybaby - what had she said his name was? Neville. Come to think of it, I hadn't caught her name.
* * *
I opened the door of the compartment, where I had been told Harry Potter was, and looked in, "Is it true?" I asked, looking at the two boys in the compartment - one was obviously a Weasley, and the other was the boy I'd met in Madam Malkin's. My gaze settled on the black haired boy, "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"
"Yes," the black haired boy said - so this was the famous Harry Potter.
I noticed he was looking past me, at Crabbe and Goyle - they can be a bit intimidating, if you don't know them … or if they don't like you. "Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," I told him, pointing at Crabbe and Goyle as I said it, "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."
The boy I assumed was a Weasley gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. I turned to look at him - I was used to the jokes about my name, from primary school, "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." Well that shut him up. I turned back to Harry Potter, "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." I held out my hand to shake his, but he didn't take it.
"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coldly.
He was insulting me - he decided he didn't like me, without even giving me a chance. "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," I said slowly. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."
Both Potter and Weasley stood up. "Say that again," Weasley said angrily.
"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" I asked, quite surprised that they'd dare, with Crabbe and Goyle as my bodyguards.
"Unless you get out now," said Potter. He sounded like a Gryffindor, 'that's probably where he'll end up - Gryffindor' I thought, 'what a waste'.
"But we don't feet like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some." I said, now trying to provoke them - we'd definitely win in a straight fight, and since we never play fair, anyway, they would have had no hope of beating us.
Goyle reached toward the Chocolate Frogs next to Weasley, and suddenly yelled - there was a rat, with its teeth sunk into Goyle's hand!
The minute Goyle had detached the rat from his finger, we all left and disappeared down the train. I nearly bumped into the bushy-haired girl again, but she was in a hurry, and I didn't try to stop her.
* * *
We returned to our own compartment, and I sank into the seat, "What did I say wrong?"
Crabbe and Goyle looked dumbly at me.
"What did I do? Why didn't he want to be my friend? It's not like I insulted him - all I did was insult Weasley, and that's something I've been doing all my life - why is he such a prat?"
Crabbe and Goyle continued to look like they're brains were substituted for by cotton wool.
"You two are a lot of help." I said, sarcastically, "You do realise these aren't actually rhetorical questions? I really was hoping you could tell me what I said wrong, that made him think I'm - not likeable ... well?"
"No idea." they chorused, synchronously.
"Fat lot of use you are." I muttered, and reverted to reading the Standard Book of Spells.
* * *
End of chapter 1