His heart pounded as he ran straight at a brick wall, hoping against hope that Draco wasn't messing with him.
September 1st dawned bright and early for many young students looking forward to going to Hogwarts for the first time, and many more looking to return after the summer holidays. The day hadn't come fast enough and he'd counted the days and twice as many letters from Draco until the day finally arrived, and Harry was out the door of Private Drive so fast he thought he saw Dudley's head spin.
He'd stayed to cook one last breakfast since disappearing the day Dudley was to go off to school as well without cooking him a feast might be enough to piss his relatives off even a year later when he had to see them next summer, and the train didn't leave until 11:00 anyway so he endured it with the promise that he'd be going to bed in a magical boarding school that night the last bit of motivation he needed to keep his pleasant mask on with them. They didn't even look at him as he bolted out the door as soon as the last dish was dried and put away—his shed was cleaned up of all potentially magical items they might find while he was gone, his trunk stashed in his old cupboard before they were even up that morning, and his bag was in the bush out front, so he could literally grab his trunk and walk out the door, striding away as quickly as he could with a huge trunk without looking super suspicious.
Luckily he had the forethought to tell Hedwig to meet him at Hogwarts and collapsed her cage into his bag because there was no way he wouldn't look like a lunatic carrying both a trunk and a bird cage (with bird) down the street with no discernible destination.
An abandoned street and one Knight Bus trip later, he was here, in a bustling train station and trying to find the right barrier Draco had said was the muggle gate to the right platform. It was very nerve-racking to run at a solid wall with no reassurance he wasn't about to just run into a wall, but he gave it a go because… well, magic, so why not? And he trusted Draco—on magic related issues at least.
Still, he might've pulled a muscle tensing so hard preparing for impact and then his whole body slumping when the crash never came. Instead the world warbled a bit and then suddenly he was there—a gleaming scarlet train puffing out plumes of smoke as the cries and cheers of families saying their goodbyes and owls, toads, and cats chiming in their opinions on the matter.
He'd worn his beanie to the train station, covering his hair as he always did in the muggle world, but at the fantastic sight of the train, and the chaos… he reached up and slipped it off, tucking it into his bag until next year.
He felt people's eyes on him as soon as his hair fell free, it being up in its high ponytail again and his bangs messy and wild, especially from the hat. But there were no looks of horror at the unnatural shade, and no looks of awed recognition that he felt he'd get if they recognized him as 'Harry Potter'. His scar was covered up expertly with muggle makeup, his hair slightly wavy today from one of the magical shampoos he tried out, and he'd left his glasses under the floorboard of his shed/room back on Private Drive. He felt like a new person and he was ready to really embrace that.
He felt… good. He was excited and already knew Draco, who despite his bratty-baby-cactus-like personality had complimented his hair--over a letter and obviously meaning it, since he'd clearly be too embarrassed to say that in person. He had an ally, he wasn't going into this alone, and he was ready.
I'm actually going. This is really happening…
Pushing through his daze and the crowd, he approached the train and watched the crowd of people around. You could clearly tell the muggle families from the wizard ones, it was kind of comical really, but the one thing they had in common was the slightly wet expressions on their faces as they looked down at their children who were going to be departing for parts unknown in a short time. Harry tried not to let it bother him (but it did a tiny bit, it really did).
Still, nothing could ruin the day more than having to cook for the Dursleys already did, so he got to a compartment where it seemed you were supposed to lift up your trunk and gave it a go. The problem being the trunk was pretty much as big as him and being on wheels was one thing, but lifting it straight up was a bit of a pickle for an eleven-year-old with the physique of a nine-year-old.
He was huffing and puffing against the weight when the burden suddenly disappeared, blinking up in surprise as his trunk floated away from his hands and had to do a double take to make sure he hadn't burst a blood vessel in his struggle and was now seeing double.
"Wotcher there!"
"We got ya!" two identical looking teen boys with bright ginger hair had his trunk in hand and easily slipped it up onto the train.
"Nice hair you got there,"
"You'd fit right in with us!" One nudged Harry's shoulder playfully, pointed at his own orange locks while the other nodded along.
"You a first year?" They chorused as one.
"Uh… yeah. Thank you," Harry smiled in a daze, too shocked that… their hair! It was…
Ignoring his staring, they waved him off and dusted their hands in sync as if brushing off a job well done.
"No worries!"
"You looked to be struggling there,"
"And we're happy to help."
"I'm Fred!"
"I'm George!"
"Nice to meet you!" they chorused as one.
"Harry," He managed to get out, feeling like he was getting whiplash. He grinned when they both offered their hands to shake—the wrong way, and he was forced to cross his arms over his chest to shake the right ones. They laughed at the awkward motion and gave a dramatic shake of greeting. "I've never met anyone with red hair like me before," he admitted, still caught up in hair that was… well, he'd never met anyone else with red hair, so apparently Hagrid hadn't been lying. Not that he didn't trust Hagrid, but seeing was believing and all that.
"We're Weasleys, all we've got is bright red hair!" One laughed.
"You must not get out much if you've never seen red hair before yours,"
"Though yours is red-red, isn't it Forge? More like Christmas than carrots!"
"More like Christmas than Halloween!"
"Like apples than oranges, hm?"
"True, true Gred. He's like the original red head!"
Harry smiled in amusement at the two—they took the twin thing very seriously apparently. It was also encouraging they didn't give a quaffle about his hair other than to joke around about it, which he appreciated. They seemed nice.
"Fred! George! Get back here!" A woman across the way shouted at them—and Harry realized there was an entire group of them over there that had red hair.
"Ah! So much red hair!" He blurted out in surprise, and the twins burst out in startled laughter at that.
"That's our family!"
"We gotta go, but good luck Apples!"
"Thanks!" He managed to call after them as they scurried back to their shouting mother, taken off guard by the nickname and finding he didn't hate it. Clearly, they didn't mean it maliciously—they reminded him of the trickster nymphs he'd read about in his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook more than anything.
Shaking off that encounter he clambered onto the train and pushing his trunk down into the storage rack before searching for an empty compartment. Draco had family things to do, or so he said—something about pureblood families meeting up on the platform to be political or something but he hadn't gone into much detail beyond saying not to wait up for him but to find a compartment and he'd catch up later.
A simple enough plan if he hadn't turned a corner a little too fast and collided with someone not ten seconds after getting on the train, his unfortunate partner in the collision walking briskly down the aisle and sending them both stumbling with a startled twin 'oof!'. He just barely managed to grab onto their shoulders and steady them both, pushing the other person back to brace themselves from falling and was suddenly looking into a pair of big blue eyes.
"Hannah! I told you not to rush!" Another girl's voice came.
"Oh gosh I'm so sorry!" The blonde girl he'd run into pushed off of him to stand up straight. Harry's hands had come up automatically to her upper arms to steady her, and just guided her back and then dropped them quickly, flashing a grin hastily.
"It's no problem, I wasn't paying attention either!" he waved it off easily.
He wasn't sure what it meant when both girls just froze upon meeting his gaze properly, the blonde who'd run into him flushing red in embarrassment and the auburn-haired girl behind her staring with her mouth popped open in a little 'o'.
"I, uh… ah, sorry," The blonde got out awkwardly, blushing more and scooting around him to take off down the hallway again--somehow faster than before? Other girl was blinking at him and then quickly avoided eye contact as she followed after her friend without a word. Harry watched them go, very much not understating that interaction at all.
What was that about? It didn't look like the recognized me, I don't think. Well whatever, first thing's first.
He brushed that off and went in search of a compartment, easily finding one a little ways down. Once there he happily tossed his bag down and started shedding layers—he couldn't wear his new clothes in front of the Dursleys after all so he had one of Dudley's oversized monstrosities overtop his new outfit, kicking off the old sneakers with haste and digging out his new teal shoes from his bag. Embarrassingly enough he'd planned his outfit out three days ago in excitement for his this grand adventure he was going on: it was a long-sleeved teal shirt that he pushed up his forearms a bit, almost matching his shoes and the front emblazoned with a yellow and pink outline of a bunny boxing a duck. It was coupled with a pair of very light grey jeans with pink patches over the knees.
He'd gone through Dell Monroe's whole basket of shiny baubles too and found a couple he rather liked—silver bangles on his wrists with dangly beads of a rainbow of colors and the only ring that managed to fit him on his thumb, fitted with a single pearl in a swirly pattern.
All in all he felt ready. He was present, this was him, and it was time to take on this grand adventure as himself as he was meant to be, and it promised to be a good time in the making.
He settled down a bit and pulled one of Dell's journals from his bag—he'd been steadily working his way through them when he got tired to his textbooks because they were as entertaining as any book he'd snuck home from the school library. His adopted ancestor had been a seamstress of all things, but going by her exploits Harry gathered she was a very bad one at that—she had her Monroe family money and therefore didn't strictly need to work and seemed to think herself the very height of fashion in the 1330s while her noted annoyance at how few customers she got seemed to imply she might've been a little off the mark. Her free time—and there was a lot of that given she had pretty much no customers—was filled with playing around with magic in fun, unique little ways that seemed to come to her randomly thanks to fits of boredom. He had a great time reading her scribbling notes as she tried to figure out exactly what had gone wrong when she tried to transfigure a new skirt to be made of braided pine needles and ended up with a rampaging talking tree that'd broken a hole through the side of her shop. Her neighbor, a potions master she seemed to mentioned quite a bit given how little they got along, was not pleased with that turn of events and had fixed the wall by bricking it over with mortars bricks—and apparently they were magically reinforced and couldn't be painted. Which wasn't a problem for a potion's lab but certainly one for a dress shop she was trying to make look pretty and thus launched several days of prank-wars between the two.
The antics they got up to, Dell's crazy nicknames for her self-proclaimed 'arch nemesis', and her free-spirited grasp on magic meant her journals were a ride and half to get through and he usually found himself up too late at night wondering what was going to happen next or if she'd finally blow herself up in the end (a stupid thought given he had dozens of journals ahead of the one he was reading, but the thrill didn't lessen despite known exactly how old she lived to be).
Harry was well into it and enjoying Dell's detailed description of what a scumbag her neighbor was when the train suddenly lurched and he startled, blinking up and realizing they were moving. Parents were waving to their kids who were leaning out of windows to wave back. Harry smiled a little tightly to himself, especially when he spotted the red headed family—now down several red heads—and a tiny red headed girl running after the train with tears in her eyes. Harry could relate—if he had to watch this train glide away, leaving him behind in his old life while the people on here went off to a world of magic, he'd be a bit put out too.
Shaking it off a bit, he went back to reading.
Only, he didn't get very far before the compartment door slid open. Harry glanced up quickly, half hoping/expecting to see a silver blond waiting on him, and was a little surprised but not unhappy when there was a red headed boy shifting awkwardly in the door instead. He probably belonged to the family the twins were from—the Weasleys they'd said.
How many kids do they actually have I wonder? Talk about that many siblings…
"Do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full." The boy shifted, giving him a wide-eyed look.
Harry highly doubted every compartment on this huge train was full—Draco had talked about how low the attendance at Hogwarts had been ever since the war, and two years below them was supposed to be almost double their current year and still half of what it once was. Plus, this train was magical and after scanning a bit of 'Hogwarts a History' and only getting as far as the introductory chapter about the train and Hogsmeade, Harry was almost 100% certain that if someone wanted a compartment for themselves then one would appear. If someone intruded it was because they wanted to, and the typical reason was to make friends.
Harry let it go, since he too was here to make friends, and just smiled. What could it hurt?
"Sure."
The freckly kid looked relieved as he came in and plopped down across from him, glancing out the window but not having anything to preoccupy him so Harry silently sighed. He seemed like the small talk sort and resigned himself to just go with it.
"You're a first year?" He asked.
"Yes. You too?"
"Yep. I'm Ron Weasley,"
"Harry," he greeted politely, and saw Ron's eyes immediately flicker to his forehead. Sucks for him because his scar was under an expertly applied layer of make-up and his wild bangs so he would find nothing there. Deciding he didn't like people looking at his scar, he smiled a little wider. "Harry Monroe."
Ron's eyes lost interest in a second flat, nodding to that easily enough. "Do you know what house you'll be in?"
"No, and I didn't particularly think very hard on it. I'd be fine with anything."
"Well you've got a book, so probably Ravenclaw then, yeah?"
Ugh, these wizards and their type-casting.
"My parents were in Gryffindor, I hear, so maybe there? And I do like making friends so even Hufflepuff wouldn't be that bad. But then again I'm pretty quick on my feet and I know what I want, so Slytherin wouldn't be a bad pick either." He reflected lightly. He raised a brow at the ugly scowl that crossed Ron's face at that.
"I think I'd bloody die if I were to be put in Slytherin though! Why'd you want to go to a dark house like that?" He demanded, seemingly offended by the very idea a stranger he met less than two minutes ago could have a different opinion.
Harry wasn't amused.
"I am going to assume you plan to be in Gryffindor then."
"Well probably, my whole family's been in it. I've got five older brothers, all Gryffindor." He didn't say it like he was thrilled about it, but instead just stating a boring fact.
"So Fred and George are in Gryffindor," He mused to himself. He knew Draco so he knew what a Slytherin-like person was now, and if the twins were in Gryffindor that spoke to those kinds of personalities. Neither seemed bad.
"How'd you know Fred and George?" Ron demanded bluntly, looking a little put out and Harry had no idea what that was about.
"I met them on the platform; they helped me get my trunk onto the train. They seemed nice." Ron gave a non-committal grunt at that which Harry had no clue how to interpret. "Uh… well, anyway I don't care what house I'm in, I'm just here for the magic." He waved it off, trying to get back to lighter topics, but it seemed impossible from the way Ron's brow furrowed.
"Are you a muggleborn?"
"Half-blood, I think the term is, but I grew up with muggles so practically speak yeah, I know about as much as a muggleborn would."
"Oh." Ron paused, and you could practically see smoke coming out of his ears from how hard he was thinking on that. "…wait a second, I don't recognize the name Monroe?"
Oh for the love of…
"Are all pureblood wizards obsessed with heritage? Because it's getting old fast." Harry deadpanned, satisfied when the boy's ears turned red in embarrassment.
"Uh… sorry."
But Harry felt Dell's journal burning in his hand and couldn't stop himself form opening his mouth, against his better judgement. "And not that I care about houses or blood status or whatever, but you don't recognize Monroe? Really? They did die off but they were an Ancient and Noble house at one point weren't they?"
Ron titled his head in confusion…until his face went slack in shock and then light up in that horrible way Harry was quickly becoming familiar with—and learning hate even faster.
"But the Monroe family was avenged by Harry Potter—by you!" He seemed awful proud of himself for this deduction and Harry gave a not-so-subtle groan of annoyance that went ignored. "Blimey—why didn't you just say so!?"
Harry knew his expression was not happy, but it didn't seem to matter as his fellow red head beamed at him.
"I don't know, maybe because I didn't want to mention it? Thanks for bringing it up, by the way."
Forget missing it, that sarcasm flew over Ron's head so high it was practically a quidditch player aiming for a goal.
"Why would you go by another name? Everyone knows you as Harry Potter! Although everyone expects you to look like a Potter ya'know, with the dark hair and stuff. That's even more reason to go by Potter since people wouldn't recognized you on sight, right? Nobody remembers Monroe really, so going by Potter would be better."
Harry wanted to hit himself in the face with Dell's journal and barely restrained himself.
"I happen to like Monroe." He said through slightly clenched teeth, but Ron clearly wasn't listening as he leaned forward in a way Harry did not like.
"How come you don't have a scar?" he asked curiously, leaning way in to inspect his face without reservations this time and either not noticing or ignoring Harry's irritated expression trying to stop him from doing so.
WOW, talk about rude… quaffle on a stick, what is his issue?
But before he could think of where to begin with that he had to immediately jerk back on instinct as a hand was suddenly in his personal space, reaching to push his bangs out of his face.
"What the heck!? I like to keep it covered—and keep your hands to yourself please." He was just this side of outright snapping at this guy but tried to keep his composure as he waved his arms to get him to lean back in his seat, on edge and watching his hands now in case he tried it again. He wasn't malicious, he was just… just…
"But why?" Ron demanded and Harry had the urge to slap him, but settled for grinding on his teeth.
"It's not something I like to show off, now is it?" He glared mildly. Again, it went unnoticed and it only drove him further up the wall. He was rude like Draco, but with none of the earnest wish to be his friend.
No, he was just rude and oblivious—more interested in his name than him. And Harry actually liked Draco and would've walked away cold because of something less, but this… this fanboy attitude was a sour taste in his otherwise sweet start at his Hogwarts journey and he wasn't interested in this at all.
Ron did not notice his rapidly deteriorating mood.
"I would if I were you--it's what makes you famous!"
"I don't really want to be famous. Much less because of my parents' deaths, Ron." He pointed out in hope that'd shock the guy into realizing how insensitive he was being. Unfortunately, he just wasn't that lucky and Ron only shrugged.
"Well, it's cool anyway. I'd show it off."
Okay—RUDE!? What an ever-loving piece of—
"There you are, I've been looking all over the place."
Ah! Salvation had come! Harry whipped around at the door sliding open once more, and this time there was a blond at the doorway waiting on him expectantly with his grey eyes glinting happily to see him matching Harry's thrill to see his friend. He was so relieved to see Draco in that moment he could've kissed him.
000
Harry was unaware at this point in time that Draco would've been perfectly fine with that turn of events, and would remain unaware for the foreseeable future.
000
Harry's elation at seeing Draco come to his rescue like a cheesy knight in white armor was derailed when Draco's smile dropped like a ton of bricks upon seeing the second red head in the compartment, his face immediately sneering in a way that turned his unnaturally symmetrical face into odd clump of lines and teeth. Harry hadn't seen him make that face before and it detracted from his natural symmetry by quite a bit.
"Ugh. Weasley."
"Malfoy," Ron responded in kind, his face it's own ugly scowl.
Sensing this was going to get ugly and not particularly wanting to get into it (and very interested in ditching Ron and this horrible conversation as fast as he could before he accidentally stabbed someone before even getting to Hogwarts), Harry stood swiftly and went over to Draco, grabbing his hand smoothly and holding on tight to silently convey his message of behave.
"You found me! Let's find somewhere else." He declared shortly for no one really since he was going to do what he pleased anyway, pulling Draco out before he could think to protest. The blond in question seemed too startled by the sudden touch to even bother putting up a fight as he was pulled away--Ron starting to say something but the closing door cutting him off and leaving him alone.
They made their way quickly down the corridor and Draco finally got on board with where they were going, stepping up to walk beside him and give him a critical look.
"Did he corner you or were you actually being so charitable as to talk to that thing?"
"He's not a thing, Draco. He, uh… well he might've cornered me a bit but despite being rude as hell he's not that bad." He glanced at the sullen expression his friend had on curiously. "You said 'Weasley' like you know him."
"His family."
These wizards, I swear to god.
"I met a couple of his brothers and they were very nice. Ron is… ugh, forget about him, but the whole family doesn't seem that bad to me." He mused delicately, hoping Draco would get the hint.
He seemed to, because he froze in his scowling and seemed to remember himself, shrugging a bit. "Historically their father and mine have never gotten along. My father's trying to turn a new leaf I guess but isn't very interested in making up with them in particular or anything. They're… ignorant, is a good way of putting it."
"Ignorant?"
"Of most pureblood things. I told you a bit about them—they're a pureblood family but they openly disregard the traditions associated with that and are all around too lackadaisical to really fit in with the rest of society."
"Just because they don't fit in doesn't mean you should hate them. Oh look, this one's open." They passed an empty compartment (proving Ron's statement about them all being full wrong, for starters) and Harry quickly pulled him inside and plopped down across from each other on the benches. Well, Harry sat: Draco was still almost sulking.
Harry gave him an indulgent smirk. "I can understand how Ron's personality can rub you the wrong way, but it sounds like you've never even talked to him or the rest of his family. The whole family can't be bad, and I don't think we should judge individuals by the family they come from." He frowned, not sure he wanted to get into this so quickly but… the conversation was here, and better now than later. "And ah…Hagrid told me the Malfoy reputation, you know. If I thought the way you're thinking right now I wouldn't have ever written you a letter."
Draco paled.
"I…suppose you're right." He managed to get out, head dropping a bit. Harry took pity on him and caught his eye.
"I'm new to the magical world so I intend to make my own impressions and connections based on the people I meet, not their reputations. That's how I became friends with you, and I hope to make many more friends this way as well, Draco. I'd hope you wouldn't try and sway me one way or the other, or judge me for liking people because of who they are and not their family name."
He sighed and slumped a bit. "Fine…" He allowed grudgingly.
Harry grinned. "Hey. I chose you as a friend and rejected one Ron Weasley. That's already going well for you, right? Have a little faith that I can tell the right sorts of people to associate with by myself, hm?"
"…fine, you're right. I can't exactly tell you who to be friends with I guess." He didn't seem happy about this admission, and Harry made a point of rolling his eyes.
"You don't have to sound so thrilled that I'm making friends," He teased.
The tips of his ears colored a bit before muttering quietly. "Sorry…. Suppose I'm just selfish…"
Selfish about what? And on that note he's pouting like a child because I talked to Ron—this weirdo.
"Forget about Ron for a moment. How was the rest of your summer? I read the potions books you suggested—I'm a little nervous about that one from all you've said about potions but the concepts seem straightforward I think."
Draco's eyes lit up when he heard potions and he forgot to keep his sulking posture as he sat straighter. "Well as I said Snape is my godfather and I know him pretty well. He loves potions a lot but he can be pretty sour in personality sometimes, and despite how good a potions master he is he's kind of odd as a teacher. Just be careful and take things seriously in his class and I think you'll be fine."
"You said the transfiguration teacher was strict; do you know any other teachers?"
"My parents told me some about them but, uh…" He trailed off suddenly, looking like he just got caught doing something naughty and Harry simply lifted a brow.
"Draco?"
"…like I said, my parents are turning a new leaf. We've… well, you've heard about the Malfoy reputation, as you said, and so what I've grown up hearing they've told me I should forget."
"Really? How so?"
"Well… like, they used to call Hagrid a great, bumbling oaf. But uh… they said not to say that anymore."
Harry was a little offended on Hagrid's behalf but couldn't rightly say anything given Draco did just say he was being told not to say that anymore. This was… an odd situation. And it made every little sense to be honest.
"And can I ask why they're… I don't know, changing their personalities so much? All of a sudden?"
The blond's pale cheeks colored slightly, but his chin jutted up in slight defiance. "The Malfoys have always been a light-sided dark family. A dark-sided light family, however you want to say it. Malfoys survive."
And for some reason, that really struck a chord with him, and whatever thoughts harry had been thinking stilled for a moment.
"I… think I can understand that."
Draco looked a bit relieved and shrugged a bit helplessly. "It's not that they're dark or light, I honestly don't think my parents ever cared about sides in the war or who was dying, they just wanted to survive, and get ahead while doing it. It's sort of the Slytherin thing to do, in my opinion. Yes, they did dark things in the war, but they did light things too. Neither side likes them much because of it, but we're in a position of power now regardless."
"And what about you? Your… opinion on the things they've done or this new leaf?"
He really, really wanted to know.
He watched closely as Draco paused and considered that question legitimately…before shifting slightly in his seat. "I mean… they're my parents. I've always been proud of them, and they of me." He took a deep breath slightly unevenly. "To be… entirely honest Harry… they've decided to make this change because I met you."
…eh?
"…uh, me? Wait--me!?" He reeled back in alarm slightly, mind blanking out. "Why!?"
"Because I became friends with you." Draco shrugged again as if this were some helpless fact of life he was dealing with now. "They liked playing both sides because it gave them power, but then I became friends with you. They know if the dark lord returns and finds out their son was friends with you of all people, they'd likely just be killed outright, or worse, punished for it. They won't tell me I can't be friends with you and they won't abandon me, so the most logical choice is to become a predominantly light-sided family with a dark cover so that they would be more protected from him if the dark lord returns. Playing both sides only works if there's a level of trust on those sides, after all."
"I…" Harry was stunned. More than that he was floored. "I didn't mean to cause such a ruckus just by befriending you!"
Draco just relaxed finally and smiled wryly. "As I said, my parents are apathetic to the whole thing really. They have always played their parts as expected of them because that was how to survive. This 'new leaf' or whatever it is, is only the next part in the facades they play to survive."
"But you never answered what you think about it…?"
Again he shrugged, and Harry had half a mind to whack him if he did it again instead of just saying it outright. "I mean I was raised one way and now most of what I've been taught isn't applicable. I guess I'm sort of here without a plan and that's a bit unnerving but… I have you, right?"
Well dung, for such a self-centered ponce the guy can really tug at your heartstrings.
Almost unwillingly Harry smiled, although he still had half a mind to be annoyed with him for spilling all of this out of nowhere like this was a normal and logical conversation to have. He could've mentioned it in any of the 50+ letters they'd written but no…
Then again if the Ministry could scan their mail, talking about dark lords and allegiances was probably a face-to-face kind of ordeal. Still, Harry wasn't going to forgive him…
…okay so maybe he was given the big grey eyes looking expectantly at him for his answer.
"Right." He agreed against his better judgement, but it was true. Draco was his friend now and it didn't seem like he was going to escape that fact—dark lord connections or not. Besides, at least the blond seemed reasonable about the whole thing—which was more than could be said about many of the witches and wizards Harry had met so far for sure. He sighed and let go—in for a penny, in for a pound as they said. "And I've no clue what I'm doing either, so let's figure it out together."
It was almost worth forgiving his blunt information dropping when Draco smiled like that.
"Right. And I'll follow your lead with meeting people instead of my… preconceived notions. My father explained that a lot of it was to be able to play both sides, so now I should approach this year as my own person. Though, I'm not sure what that means."
"We'll figure it out together." He simply repeated with a grin. "Since learning I was a wizard I've done a lot of thinking about who I am too… it's actually a lot of fun to discover what you do and don't like, without anyone else's opinion butting in."
"I'll take your word for it." The blond raised and eyebrow with a smirk of his own. "And what things have you discovered then?"
This he could handle, and immediately kicked out his feet pointedly. "Colors, for one! I've decided hand-me-downs are a thing of the past now that I know I'm a wizard with inheritance, so I bought clothes that actually fit me and all of it is colorful!" He announced gleefully, lifting his arms to show off his new outfit and the clinking bracelets on his wrists.
Draco's eyes scanned him at the invitation, but when he met his gaze once more he did his quick-look-out-the-window thing… Harry just smiled at it.
"I don't think teal is my color." He intoned wryly, but he was smiling.
"Good on you that I'm the one wearing it then," Harry stuck his tongue out, and Draco rolled his eyes that time. His smile dropped and a more serious look adopting his features. "You said hand-me-downs…to be honest my parents were a little surprised to hear Hagrid say 'nasty muggles', when we met in the Alley you know. That's something a pureblood family, or even my parents before their new leaf would say. From your letters it doesn't sound like you like them at all…" He left the question hanging there and Harry felt his own smile slowly drop.
He gave one non-committal nod. "No. I don't like them much." He admitted. Where did he even start with this can of worms really? He gave it a second's thought before deciding today was not the time to bring everything down with talk of the life he was leaving behind, and shook it off quickly. "They hate magic, to put it kindly. My aunt was my mother's sister and I think she was always jealous of my mom's magic. Jealousy became hatred somewhere along the line and then my parents died without there ever being closure, leaving me with muggles who hate magic and pretty much anything not totally 'normal'. Whatever normal really means." He sighed, glancing at window…
He knew he was probably not going to forgive Petunia for lying. He silently hoped every last bit of what she had bottled up inside her slowly ate her alive from the inside one day. What that said about him as a person, he didn't know, but he also very much did not care.
"If even Hagrid called them 'nasty muggles', they must truly be horrible."
Harry smiled blankly at his tone—the incredulous tone of someone who was trying to imagine how horrible something must be, but who had lived a very sheltered life so far and therefore even his most creative fantasies were pathetically, naively tame to Harry's reality.
And this is why he is a baby cactus. Well, Mr. Pureblood could use a bit of an education on the matter.
"Not all muggles are bad. There are some very kind ones, some truly intelligent, creative, wonderful people. Just like wizards, they're people." He felt his eyes dim. "But people of any sort of background or magical ability can be horrible. Humans are both wonderful and cruel—that's just the way humans are, magic or not."
Draco gave him a long look, seeming to be pondering something—but before he could say anything the door slid open, causing them both to look up.
A girl with wild brown hair and a teary eyed boy with ruddy cheeks had poked their heads in—she had her chin held high while he looked positively miserable.
"Have either of you seen a toad? Neville's lost one." The girl announced a bit too loudly, and the boy's lip quivered.
"No, sorry," Harry tilted his head, genuinely sympathetic and doing a quick scan of the compartment just in case. Draco lifted a brow at the two of them but kept his mouth shut—probably for the best given the way he was somehow managing to look down his nose at the two of them while still sitting.
The girl seemed to deflate all at once, the boy called Neville looking about ready to sit down and cy.
"Well… there aren't really any more cars to check." She shrugged, looking at her companion with a guilty expression. "We checked every compartment… maybe he's still back at the station?"
Draco was mid eye-roll when he was forced to abandon the motion in shock as Harry got to his feet and crossed the space in half a second, putting a steady hand on Neville's arm at just about the same time tears started spilling down his face.
"Hey! There's no need to cry—it's a magical toad right? It'll turn up I'm sure!" He comforted automatically, not even sure if that was true or not, but the baby-faced boy curling in on himself like a turtle that didn't want to come out of its shell hit all sorts of heartstrings in Harry's book. Today was supposed to be the happiest of their lives, the start of a new adventure! He wasn't sure he was okay with just letting someone who seemed to be his age and on the same adventure he was curl up like a smothered flower and wither in miserable tears.
First Draco's big eyes, now this stranger's tears. He was a sucker, he supposed, but what the hell.
Neville seemed to want nothing more than to disappear from sight; it was written all over his blotchy, tear soaked face clear as day and into every line of his slouched posture where his shoulders curled in as if he could smother himself from existence if he wished hard enough.
Harry knew the feeling.
But he also knew the feeling of straightening your spine and being proud of who you were for once, after so long of being your own worst enemy. Of coming out the other side and wondering why you'd spent so long being your own critic when you realized how many legitimate critics there were in the world. Of realizing you could be happy by being on your own team for once.
Harry squeezed his arm gently in comfort and two bleary blue eyes glanced up at him quickly before dropping to the ground as if weighed down by bricks.
"N-no… it's a normal toad." The boy mumbled dejectedly.
"Why did you take a normal toad to Hogwarts?" Draco raised a poised eyebrow, and Harry snapped his head to the side to shoot him a look so severe that the blond reeled back a little and flapped his arms as if silently demanding to know what he did.
"Ignore Draco—" he sure did despite the immediate indignant cry at that, "—I think having a normal toad as a pet is interesting! You have to work harder to befriend it since it's not magical."
"But it still ran away from me," Neville sniffed.
"Oh! If it's a normal toad then a summoning charm should work on it! We can ask one of the older kids to perform one for us!" The girl perked up, wild mane of hair bouncing with her sudden enthusiasm.
Neville lifted his head slightly as if hopeful at this prospect, but dropped it quickly before he could meet either of their gazes—especially the girl's who was now staring at him expectantly. He probably didn't have the nerve to ask an upper year for this favor and the girl's insistence was probably the only reason he'd let himself be dragged around disrupting every compartment on the train. And he was going to be dragged around some more if her expression said anything, and he wasn't going to enjoy it one bit.
Harry sighed, sliding his hand from just being a comforting gesture on his arm to wrapped firmly around his wrist, lifting it and pulling him forward a bit. Neville blinked in alarm, forgetting to be humiliated and shy as he looked up in panic—but Harry was just smiling his most non-threatening smile possible and lifted his hand up pointedly, revealing a spare shiny bracelet he'd slipped off his own wrist in his free hand.
"Looks like someone needs to be a little nicer to themselves, right Neville?" He hummed gently, slipping the bracelet over the boy's wrist and then gripping his hand in his own so he couldn't shake it off.
Before anyone could comment he was off, pulling the boy down the corridor with him. "Now let's find an upper year! Maybe if they're super nice they'll teach us the spell themselves!"
"But you can't! That's a fifth-year spell!" The girl exclaimed, aghast.
And you knew about it how then? He wondered, but didn't give that a voice.
"Harry!" He heard Draco call a little frantically.
"Don't wait up Draco!" He shouted over his shoulder as he made his grand escape, a shell-shocked Neville being dragged along beside him and the girl struggling to keep up. He heard something loud bang in the compartment behind him but couldn't tell what, and then he was gone, peeking into compartments curiously for a nice-looking upper year.
"Y-you're Harry?" A timid voice from behind asked, and Harry braced himself for the inevitable. But when he glanced back, the blue eyes that's been staring at the back of his head dropped to the floor. "…thank you." Was all he said instead.
Harry smiled to himself since Neville was committed to not looking at him anymore. A rough start maybe, but this grand adventure was living up to its promise.