September first finally arrived, but before leaving the manor for Hogwarts, Draco had one last thing to take care of. It was part of his great plan – the one that barely existed, in all honesty – but it was a step that he was sure needed to be taken. Even if his father would, quite literally, kill him if he ever found out.
Draco woke before the sun had even begun to peak over the horizon, and when both of his parents were still deeply asleep, and snuck down to the drawing room by wand light. He then proceeded to disable the alarms his father had on the secret door hidden behind the bookcase to the hidden room and slip down the narrow staircase that would lead to his father's secret storeroom of Dark and dangerous artifacts.
It took him nearly twenty minutes of careful searching to find the specific object he was after, and another ten minutes to even more carefully disable the alarms and wards his father had placed over the thing. If it weren't for his brief experience during the summer after his father's incarceration in Azkaban, Draco doubted he would have been able to do any of this, but at the time, he had had little choice but to learn his way around his father's wards and alarms. He was the man of the house, after all, and there were tasks that needed attending to that only he could deal with.
Finally, he had the small, innocuous black book removed and tucked into the deep pocket of his robe and he set to restoring the wards and alarms to their previous condition. He left the secret room below the drawing room about fifty minutes after he had first set out and quickly made his way back to his bedroom.
He sat on his bed looking at the book for several long minutes. It looked innocent enough, but he knew it was far from that. This book had nearly gotten his father killed, once the Dark Lord realized what had happened to it. Most of what Draco knew about it was knowledge gained by eavesdropping while hiding within the elf corridors that existed between the walls.
He knew that the little book had been responsible for what happened in his second year. His father did not know exactly what the book was, and as such, neither did Draco, but what his father had known was that allowing the book to fall into the hands of a student within Hogwarts would result in opening the Chamber of Secrets, and most likely, the death of a few muggleborns. His father had slipped the book into the possession of one of the Weasels in hopes of disgracing the family and putting an end to the elder Weasel's latest pro-muggle legislation.
The fact that his father had allowed the Dark Lord's book into the hands of a blood-traitor for entirely selfish reasons, and the fact that such a mistake had resulted in the books destruction had been what had truly and utterly infuriated the Dark Lord when he finally found out about the whole debacle. The reason that Draco had stolen it, was specifically because of the Dark Lord's reaction to learning of it's destruction. The man hadn't simply been angry – which was the emotion he would entirely expect from the man if one of his precious dark artifacts was destroyed – no, what he had displayed was a moment of true, unadulterated fear. Draco had seen it in the man's eyes as he peered through the one-way wall panel. The Dark Lord had been afraid by the prospect of this book being destroyed.
And thus – Draco intended to make sure it got destroyed again. Only this time, without any monsters getting loose that petrified students.
As he sat on his bed, looking down at the book, he felt the most peculiar urge to open it up and write in it. It was at the moment that he realized he had opened it up and was about to reach for a quill that he slammed it shut, stuffed it into pillow case, and quickly crammed it into the bottom of his trunk.
– –
Quite a few hours later, Draco found himself following behind his mother and father as they briskly made their way through the crowds of muggles that populated Kings Cross station in London. His father's expression was in full disgusted-sneer mode, while his mother had a rather pinched look to her face.
As they forcefully pushed their way through the crowd, Draco kept looking around, wildly searching for any sign of the short boy with ridiculously messy black hair, but was so far having no luck.
They reached the barrier between platforms nine and ten and he could tell that his father was relieved to know he was mere moments away from being rid of the muggle crowd, but Draco quickly grabbed hold of his mother's sleeve to halt her progress forward.
"What is it, dear?" she asked, looking down at him with a mild air of impatience.
"Can we wait for Harry?"
Lucius Malfoy spun around and looked at Draco as if he had lost his mind, before schooling his expression. "Are you suggestion that we remain here? With the muggles? Surely Potter can find his own way through the barrier. You can wait for him on the other side."
"Well, I explained to him how to get onto the platform, but he still might have trouble. It's not like the mugglesare going to be able to help him," Draco insisted as he continued to twist and turn his head around, searching for the boy.
"Draco, dear, I'm sure that Mr. Potter will be perfectly capable of getting onto the platform. If not, he will no doubt find someone who can help him," his mother insisted in as soft and reassuring a tone as she could manage while also looking disgusted and impatient by the presence of so many muggles.
Draco grimaced at her words. That was what he was afraid of, if he were honest. He knew that Potter had met Weasley because the tribe of gingers had assisted him onto the train. Granted, he knew he couldn't prevent Potter from meeting the Weasleys, and chances are that he would end up being friends with the stupid pauper again, no matter what he did, but he still couldn't help but want to postpone the inevitable.
He tried whining a bit, but that only seemed to irritate his already irritable parents further, and finally he conceded and pushed his trolly through the barrier.
Draco briefly looked around the still sparsely populated platform on the off chance that Harry had actually gotten here before him, but after a few minutes of searching he was convinced he had gotten here first. He and his mother parked his troller not far from the archway entrance to platform 9 ¾ while his father made a bee-line for a few of his colleagues from the Ministry that were already there with their children.
Draco knew it was likely that at some point during the next twenty minutes Greg and Vince would be brought to him and deposited in his care by their parents. The senior Goyle and Crabbe had been his father's lap dogs for more than a decade, and it was expected that their progenies would fulfill the same duty for Draco.
He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do with them this time around. He'd never really considered them 'friends'. Neither of them were really smart enough for that. He'd been friends with Theo and Pansy and Blaise, but Greg and Vince had mostly been his... well, his servants. At least... that was how he'd treated them.
He definitely didn't want the pair of them trailing him around everywhere like a pair of lost puppies. He didn't need them to protect him because his own knowledge in magical defense far outweighed their usefulness as physical bodyguards. And he had a distinct suspicion that Harry would not be particularly impressed by them. They would no doubt remind the small boy of some of those muggle bullies he'd reluctantly admitted had terrorized him at his cousin's behest.
Draco decided to put his worries about Crabbe and Goyle out of his mind for the time being and instead focus on finding Harry. Therefore, he was greatly relieved when a blurred trolly came running through the archway, featuring an owl cage holding a familiar snowy white owl, followed immediately by a familiar shock of messy black hair.
He let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the small boy, and found himself smiling brightly as his friend stumbled to a stop and took his first startled look around the platform. Those expressive green eyes looked even more shockingly brilliant without the ugly broken glasses to mask them, and they grew in size at the stunning sight of the red, gleaming, Hogwarts Expression standing before him. After Harry had spent a stunned minute gawking over the magical steam engine his eyes jerked away and quickly began to search the now-crowded platform. His eyes almost instantly locked on Draco and a stunning smile broke out on his face.
"Draco!" he called out and waved one hand in the air. Before even consciously deciding to return the gesture, he found himself eagerly waving his arm in return. He caught himself and quickly pulled his arm back down before glancing up at his mother out of the corner of his eyes. She was looking down at him with tightly concealed amusement shining in her eyes, while her lips were pressed into a tight line. Public behavior of such a nature was just not the Malfoy way, and if his father had seen him doing it, he would have been in for a considerable scolding. He was grateful that his mother wasn't making a scene.
Harry rushed at pushing his loaded trolly over to Draco and his mother and quickly greeted the two of them. He thanked Draco for telling him how to get through the barrier in his last letter; mentioning that he never would have been able to figure it out on his own from the ticket alone.
"Well, Draco, now that you've found your friend, do you suppose you're finally willing to board the train?" his mother asked airily and he felt his cheeks pinken slightly as he quickly nodded his head and apologized for the delay.
His father made his way back at that point, apparently having noticed that they had been joined by the Boy-Who-Lived. Proper introductions were quickly made and Harry did an admirable job of not embarrassing himself in front of Draco's father. He looked a lot better today than he had that day at Diagon Alley. He was wearing neat, pressed, black trousers that fit him nicely, and a straight-collared, white, button down shirt. Instead of ratty old trainers, he even had polished black Oxfords and Draco wondered when he'd bought those since they didn't sell shoes at Madam Malkin's.
The lack of the unsightly round, black, and sellotaped glasses was also quite an improvement, even if Potter's hair was just as much of a mess as ever.
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Potter," Lucius Malfoy was saying in his usual disinterested drawl. "Draco has spoken highly of you over the course of the last month. In fact, there were times when it seemed he spoke of little else, besides your correspondences." At this he gave Draco a rather pointed look, and he instantly diverted his gaze to the floor, feeling his father's irritation in his piercing eyes.
If Harry noticed any of this, he didn't mention it, and instead he proceeded to gush a little bit about how grateful he was for all of Draco's help over the past month. Finally the crowds on the platform began to thin as people started to make their way onto the train and the group made to follow.
Draco's father pulled his wand out of the top of his cane and with a few flourished waves of his wand both of their trunks levitated into the air and into the train car that they had chosen near the back. Once levitated, the two of them were able to push the trunks into a compartment and got them settled into the overhead storage before going over and pushing the window open. Draco leaned out and waved to his parents. His mother gushed and reached up to grab his hand and squeeze it for a moment, which was as much of a public display of affection as she was willing to make with Lucius there.
She then waved at Harry and wished him well, which caused Potter to blush with apparent surprise and pleasure. What seemed like mere moments later, they were sitting down in the compartment, sighing quietly as the train pulled out of the station and began it's journey north.
They settled into conversation with surprising ease; picking up from their last exchange of letters as if they'd been talking in person for the last month instead of by quill. The excited, nervous air around Harry was contagious. Draco wasn't nervous for exactly the same reason, since he'd made the journey to Hogwarts for years now and knew pretty much exactly what to expect, where as Harry was nervous because his life was about to drastically change and everything was new to him.
They remained alone for all of fifteen minutes before a face peered in through the glass window of the sliding door to their compartment and then quickly pulled the door open.
"There you are!" an exasperated voice exclaimed.
Draco looked up and found himself blinking at a shockingly young Pansy Parkinson. It was startling to see her as such a small girl again. Short black hair, cut in a bob hair style, pale freckles dusting her pale cheeks, and her little up-turned nose that she'd always been sensitive about because people often told her she looked like a pug because of it. She'd always sounded a bit nasally in her youth too, which didn't help much.
"Pansy!" Draco exclaimed, because he just didn't know what else to say in his moment of stunned silence.
"Here! Take these too! When they couldn't find you, they opted to follow me around because they didn't know what else to do," she said in an annoyed voice as she stepped back into the hall and pushed the two over-sized boys that had become his personal goons for the majority of his original Hogwarts years, into the compartment.
"Will you join us?" Draco asked, desperately hoping that she would because he didn't think he could stand the compartment if he was left to babysit Crabbe and Goyle with only Harry there for assistance.
"Well... maybe. I was actually planning to go find Theo."
"Well if you find him, bring him here," Draco insisted quickly.
She looked around the compartment skeptically. "Won't it get a bit... full, if we do that? That'd make six of us and these two aren't exactly small," she said with a jerk of her chin towards Crabbe and Goyle.
"There are charms on the compartments so that they will expand in size to hold as many people as you need, up to a certain point. You just have to tap your wand on a certain spot, and the whole thing stretches with a space expansion charm."
"Really? That's neat," Pansy said, looking around the compartment with curiosity. Then her gaze landed on Harry and the curiosity grew. "Who's this, then?"
"This is my friend. I met him a month ago in Diagon Alley and we've been exchanging post ever since," here Draco paused and pinned Pansy with a look, "Don't make a fuss," he said in a stern, commanding voice before continuing. "Pansy Parkinson, meet Harry Potter."
Pansy's eyes went wide and her lips parted in a silent gasp before she schooled her expression into a sweet smile instead and extended her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Oh, uh, p-pleasure to meet you too," Harry said quickly as he quickly rubbed his hand on his pant leg and then reached out and shook her hand.
"And this is Vincent Crabbe and Greg Goyle," Draco continued as he waved to the two large boys who were now sitting on the bench opposite Harry and Draco.
"Nice to meet you, too," Harry said with a nod to each. They sort of grunted in return. "So how do you all know each other? Did you go to primary school together or something?"
"Our families travel in the same social circles," Pansy said, airily in a tone much like her mother often used and Draco found himself unable to refrain from rolling his eyes slightly.
Seeing that Harry didn't entirely understand what she'd said, Draco explained about the many Ministry galas, family balls, and the gatherings for 'tea' – or in reality, to gossip – that their mothers did at least once a month, and ow they would usually all end up stuffed away into a playroom to entertain themselves while their mother's chattered away. He also pointed out that they had all been schooled by private tutors, rather than attending any sort of organized school system. Hogwarts would be a first for them in that regard.
During this talk, Pansy had settled down on the bench, with Harry in the middle and Draco on the side near the window. She'd taken to enthusiastically fill in the details of their 'play dates' over the years, making them sound like a far more common thing that Draco felt was true. In all honesty, before Hogwarts, he'd barely known any of his future friends. They'd be more acquaintances at this point. Yet Pansy managed to retell quite a few amusing and rather embarrassing stories about their youthful exploits in Malfoy Manor that Draco had nearly forgotten all about.
"Do wizards have schools for young children, or do they all get private tutors like you lot did?" Harry asked, at one point.
"Well a great many are home schooled by their mothers," Pansy replied in a bit of a know-it-all tone that made Draco smirk and roll his eyes again.
"But what if the mother works?" Harry asked.
"Then there are small schooling groups that they can send them to. A lot of the time, one of the witches in a wizarding village will take in the children of her neighbors during the day and school the lot of them in one go right along with her own children. And then there are some people," she said the last two words as if the 'some people' she were talking about where the lowest of low, "who actually send their children off to muggle schools to learn their letters and maths. But I can't imagine how they could stand being around all those muggle children, and they'd learn nothing of our history and culture that way." She shuddered in an over-dramatic fashion.
Draco noticed the obvious sign of Potter's embarrassment in the slight pinkening of his cheeks and the way he ducked his head and hunched his shoulders, ever-so-slightly.
"Harry was left with muggles after his parents died, so he had to go to a muggle primary school," Draco said in a dismissive tone. "It's unfortunate, but sometimes these things just can't be helped. So I've made it my duty this last month to help get him as up to speed on our ways as possible."
"You grew up with muggles?" Pansy gasped. For a moment, Draco was afraid she were about to start treating him as if he were a maggot beneath her boot, like she would have to Potter in his old timeline, but instead she took on the most pitying look and moaned out, "Oh you poor thing. You must feel so out of the loop. That sure explains why you didn't know..." She trailed off and then switched to a determined grin. "Well then, I'll just make it my duty as well to help you out. We'll get you sorted out, don't you worry."
Harry just gaped at her like a fish out of water before closing his mouth and giving her a confused, muted nod.
Draco felt equally stunned and confused if he were honest with himself. Pansy had always been one of the most outspoken Slytherins against Potter and his band of Gryffindorks. She was always apt to point out the fact that he was a filthy halfblood with his mudblood mother. Of course, Draco had been the one who spout all that stuff first – she just picked up where he started and carried it on with enthusiastic vigor. Was his apparent approval and acceptance of Potter all that was needed to make the others welcome him as well?
If it were that simple then perhaps his task wouldn't be as hard as he feared. The real question was whether or not they'd all still be willing to put up with Harry once he was sorted into Gryffindor.
Pansy took to her 'task' with great enthusiasm. Mostly, Draco figured she just enjoyed hearing herself speak, and so he allowed her to do so. She spent much of the next hour running through as many stupid little details to wizarding life that Draco had honestly never considered important enough to bother mentioning to Harry in his letters, but in retrospect, were still important to understand the greater picture.
During that hour, Theo actually found them and joined them at Pansy's insistence. Harry Potter was introduced to Theodore Nott, and Pansy quickly explained the situation to the stringy boy with a dismissive attitude, that silently spoke volumes about how the group of purebloods had chosen to approach this situation. He seemed a bit unsure about sitting in a compartment with the Boy-Who-Lived – especially a Boy-Who-Lived that was muggle-raised – for all of five minutes, before Harry's open and curious personality sucked him into the conversation.
Crabbe and Goyle mainly remained quiet through most of it. Amusingly enough, Harry tried to draw the two of them into the conversation several times, and even more shocking, he'd gotten them to respond.
The trolly witch came by and they loaded up on sweets. Harry looked at the assortment of sugary confections with wide, glowing eyes and ended up buying at least one of everything. The hour after that was spent telling Potter about every one of the sweets, and each of them getting him to try different things.
More time passed and the group was finally interrupted by a knocking on their compartment door. It slid open a moment later to reveal Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom – both shockingly young, just like everyone else.
Draco grimaced slightly at the sight of the two of them. Longbottom looked pathetic in his short, chubby, round-faced state, but mostly it was his slouched stature and ducked head that screamed 'pathetic' above all else. He was also startled by the sudden reminder of just how bigGranger's two front teeth had been at eleven.
"Excuse me, but have any of you seen a toad? Neville's lost one," Granger said importantly as she looked around their crowded compartment.
Seeing that Pansy was one breath away from a disparaging remark and knowing that it was likely that Harry would probably make friends with these two once he was sorted into Gryffindor, he spoke first.
"Have you tried asking a Prefect for help? They can just summon the thing for you," Draco drawled lazily.
"They can summon it?" Granger said, looking equal parts surprised and fascinated. "I didn't even think of that."
"Of course you didn't," Draco said with a slightly sarcastic edge and a sigh.
"B-but what if he's in a closed compartment?" Longbottom said in a shaky, quiet, and utterly pathetic voice from behind Granger.
"Well then he'll end up flattened against the window of the compartment and who ever is in it will, ideally, open the door and let him out," Draco drawled and rolled his eyes dramatically.
"Oh," Longbottom said as his cheeks went pink. "Erm, well... thanks," he mumbled as he turned and backed out of the compartment doorway.
Granger hesitated for a moment and Draco suspected she wanted to question him about the summoning suggestion, but then she seemed to realize that she could ask more, and get an actual demonstration, if she just followed Longbottom to a prefect instead.
"Well, thank you for your suggestion. You'd best be getting changed into your robes, you know. We'll be there soon. Bye."
And with that, she turned and left as well. Pansy made some annoyed remark about being Granger; obviously annoyed at having been told to change. Despite this fact, Granger's advice was not ignored. Draco and Harry both had their trunks in the compartment they'd all gathered in, so all they had to do was open their trunks and grab their robes. The others, however, had their belongings elsewhere and they all departed to return to their original compartments in order to change.
Quick goodbyes were said and moments later Draco was left alone with Harry again. Realizing suddenly that he wasn't likely to have another chance to speak with the shorter boy again, alone, for some time, Draco quickly spoke.
"Hey, Harry? I was meaning to speak to you about this earlier, but then Pansy and everyone else showed up, and I didn't want to mention it when anyone else was around," Draco started hesitantly.
Harry looked up at him with mild concern in his eyes. "Oh? What is it?"
"Well, in your last letter you mentioned that incident with the snake during your cousin's birthday thing?"
"Yeah, what about it?"
"You said that you spoke with the snake? That it told you 'thanks'?"
"That's right," Harry said, nodding his head slowly and looking at Draco with a confused expression.
"Well... you should probably avoid mentioning that to anyone else."
A frown suddenly marred Harry's face. "What? Why?"
"Speaking to snakes is an... unusual skill," Draco said, hesitantly.
"Well, at the time I thought that maybe I'd imagined the whole thing, but after all of... well this, I figured wizards must be able to speak to all kinds of animals."
Draco slowly shook his head. "You'd think that... but they can't. When you speak to a snake... it sounds like English to you, right?"
"That's right," Harry said with a nod.
"Well, it only sounds that way to you. To anyone else near by who might be listening, it would just sound like hissing. You're actually speaking another language when you do it. A magical language that only you and other parselmouths can speak."
"Speaking another language?" Harry echoed incredulously. "How can you be sure that's what I was doing?"
"I just..." Draco's voice trailed off with a tinge of frustration. He glanced around quickly before going over to the compartment door and pulling the shade down. He then pulled out his wand and cast a locking spell, and a privacy spell.
He turned back to look at Harry for a hesitant moment before giving a small determined nod. "I'm going to summon a snake. You can't tell anyone about this, okay?"
Harry frowned and looked even more confused now than before but he nodded his head. "Okay. I won't tell."
Draco nodded and aimed his wand at the floor of the compartment. He focused on the mental image of a small garden snake before flourishing his wand and saying "Serpent Sortia!"
A small snake shot out of the tip of his wand and landed on the floor in front of him.
Harry gasped at the display of magic before looking down at the snake on the floor with an air of awe.
"That's so cool. Where'd you learn that spell?" Harry asked.
"My godfather taught it to me," Draco said with a sigh of relief as he noted that the snake was what he intended – a small and harmless little garter snake. He had been worried he'd summon something a bit less friendly and considerably more dangerous simply by virtue of habit and practice. He'd never used the spell to summon a harmless snake before.
Taking in a calming breath Draco refocused on Harry. "Okay, now look at the snake – focus on the snake, and try talking to it."
Harry looked rather skeptical but he crouched down in front of the bench seat so he was closer to the little snake currently coiled into a small protective ball on the floor of their compartment and opened his mouth.
When Draco heard the all too familiar hissing sound emerge from Harry's mouth, it sent a shudder down his spine. He had only ever witnessed Harry Potter speaking parseltongue that one time in his second year, but he'd heard the Dark Lord speak it quite frequently, and he did not entirely associate it with pleasant things.
It was honestly quite unsettling to hear Potter speak it, if he was quite honest with himself. And yet, the longer Harry did it, the easier it became for Draco to tell the difference between Harry speaking it and the Dark Lord doing it.
Harry was clearly engrossed in a conversation with the snake, and he seemed a bit enthusiastic, Draco noticed. His voice seemed interested and light, despite the strange hissing sounds. Nothing like the menacing and downright terrifying sound that the Dark Lord created when he used the language.
Finally the hissing subsided and Harry looked up at Draco with a confused, expectant expression. Draco just blinked at him with his own air of confusion.
"Would that be okay?" Harry asked and Draco just continued to look at him in confusion for a moment.
"Would what be okay?" He finally asked.
"I mean, is she permanent, or will your spell wear off and she'll go back where ever she came from?"
"What are you talking about?" Draco asked. "And she is permanent if I don't banish her back," he amended quickly.
"Really? Well that's good. And... what do you mean, what am I talking about? Weren't you listening?"
"No, Harry. I couldn't understand a thing you were saying. I told you, to everyone but you, it just sounds like hissing."
Harry opened his mouth, but nothing came out at first. He just looked shocked. "Wait, really?"
"Yes, really."
"But... I mean, it sounds just like English."
"To you, sure. But that's because you're a parselmouth."
"What's a parselmouth?"
"Someone who has the inherent magical ability to speak to snakes. It's a magical ability that's usually passed down through blood lines. Normally, the only way a wizard could be one is if one of their parents had been one."
"Was my dad one?"
"I highly doubt it. In fact, I can pretty much guarantee that he wasn't. There's never been any history of the Potters being parselmouths."
Harry reached down and scooped the snake up into his hands before shifting over and sitting back down on the bench – now with the snake in his lap. He absently started stroking one finger down the snake's back, just behind it's head, and Draco nearly did a double-take. It was just such a weird thing to even imagine Harry Potter handling a snake...
"Well, if my dad wasn't a parselmouth... how come I'm one?" Harry was saying, and his words pulled Draco's attention away from the snake in his lap.
"Well..." Draco began hesitantly, "I think it... just might... possibly, have something to do with... er... that." Draco said as he finally reached out and poked Harry in the forehead, just over his scar.
Harry frowned and his hand froze. "What do you mean?" he asked in a quiet whisper.
"The Dark Lord was one. A parselmouth, I mean. He could speak to snakes. They say he was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself. Slytherin's line was the most well known for carrying the trait. It's why the mascot for Slytherin house at Hogwarts is a snake."
"But why would I be able to speak to snakes because of this?" he said, motioning up towards his scar.
Draco shrugged and let out a slightly frustrated sigh. "I really don't know. I mean... what you've got there is a curse scar. It's not just a normal scar. It's probably still got some magic residue left in it, even though it's been a decade since you got it. I wouldn't be surprised if you got some of the Dark Lord's power or something, back when his curse blew up in his own face.
"The killing curse normally just kills you. They say that it terrifies you to death, but physically, it deals no damage at all. People who die by the killing curse leave a completely unmaimed body behind, but if the stories are true, the Dark Lord's body was obliterated that night. Totally gone. Nothing but robes and ashes left. If he were taken out simply by a rebounded killing curse, his body would have been fine, but it wasn't, so there had to be more going on than anyone knows.
"I've heard stories of rebounded curses going bad and causing a feedback loop. Where the curse is connected between the target and the caster's wand and a magical connection forming there, locking the two together until the power gets too much to handle and everything just explodes. But while the magic connects the two, all sorts of weird things can happen. You could have gotten some of his power that night. It would explain why all your accidental magic is so outrageously advanced, and why it was happening at such a young age and with such frequency."
Harry looked horrified and sick. Finally he seemed to swallow something thick in his throat and looked back up at Draco. "You really think I could have some of his power?" he whispered, still looking entirely ill at ease with such a concept.
"It would explain a few things," Draco said with a shrug. "Most specifically, the parselmouth thing."
"Is that why you don't think I should tell anyone about it? Because the Dark Lord was a parselmouth?"
Draco nodded hesitantly. "Yeah... mostly. I mean, parseltongue has got a bit of a bad rep. The most well known parselmouths were all pretty nasty dark wizards. So it's got a rather negative stigma around it. Some people might make judgments and act biased just because they're ignorant."
Harry was frowning deeply but nodded his head as if he really did understand. "Then I guess it would probably be a bad idea for me to keep her, wouldn't it?" He asked with a rueful smile as he looked down at the snake still resting in his lap.
"Is that what you were talking about earlier?" Draco asked.
"Yeah. She said she'd be willing to stay with me because she was curious about wizards."
The snake's head moved slightly and Harry's attention zeroed in on the snake again for a moment. He blushed slightly all of a sudden, but then hissed out a response to whatever it was the snake had said.
"What'd she say?" Draco asked, feeling obscenely curious.
"She said it would be a great honor to become a companion to a 'speaker', but she understands if I can't keep her."
"Did she understand what we were saying earlier? I mean, when we were speaking English?" Draco asked, honestly startled.
Harry nodded. "Seems that way, yes."
"Oh." Draco replied, surprised.
Suddenly, the sonarus-enhanced voice of the train's conductor filled the compartment, announcing that they would be pulling into Hogsmeade station in a minute and to leave trunks and pet cages on the train.
Harry looked down at the snake with a slightly sad expression and Draco honestly wished for a moment that Harry could keep the little thing, but knew that a pet snake would never go over well in Gryffindor. Plus the whole point of bringing all of this up was to make sure Potter was discreet about the parseltongue thing.
Finally, Harry gave Draco the go-ahead to banish the snake back to where ever she had come from. He hissed something that Draco assumed was a 'goodbye' before putting her back on the floor. Draco did a quick simple wave of his wand and the snake vanished.
The next twenty minutes passed in a blur for Draco. It was like deja vu in part, and yet totally different in another.
He and Harry exited the train and gathered with the other first years around Hagrid. They then followed the group down a narrow trail to the edge of the lake where they all got into little boats. He and Harry got into a boat with Crabbe and Goyle, because the two boys looked lost during the half minute where it appeared that he didn't intend to sit with them. He realized he was joining them entirely out of pity and the though irritated him greatly.
Harry gasped and awe'd along with the rest of them when Hogwarts first came into view, and Draco found himself smiling at it with a stupidly-sappy sense of sentimentality that nearly made him grimace in self disgust.
The group reached the shore and then followed the large oaf across the grounds and up to the entrance of Hogwarts, where he banged on the door three times and was then greeted with the stern face of Minerva McGonagall. She took over the group of first-years and led them into the small antechamber just off the Great Hall and gave the exact same speech as she had the first time Draco had done all of this.
She left the room; the stupidly wild theories about the sorting began to spread, and were then promptly cut off by shrieks as the school's house ghosts floated through the room, causing quite a scare amongst the muggleborn in the room that had never seen a ghost before.
Finally McGonagall came back and had them all form a straight line before leading them into the Great Hall. Draco had told Harry was the sorting actually was back in one of his letters, and he had seen the slight amusement in the shorter boy's eyes as Ron Weasley recounted to Seamus Finnigan the line his two psychotic brother's had fed him about fighting a troll. Now they walked one after the other into the great all and Potter looked far less stressed than some of the others, and not at all surprised when the Sorting Hat came into view sitting on the three-legged stood in front of the head table.
They came to a stop; the hat sang a song; the hall applauded; and the sorting began.
"Abbot, Hannah!" McGonagall called out, and things progressed from there, exactly as they had before. Not that he had been paying all that much attention the first time around, but he'd gone to school with these people for more than five years; he knew which houses they'd ended up in.
He noticed this time around that Granger was under the hat for a bit longer than most of the other kids. He knew from the stories he'd heard from others that it was possible to actually have a conversation with the sorting hat while it sat on your head. He didn't actually know this from experience since the hat had quite literally been on his head for half a second before it called out with absolute certainty that he belonged in Slytherin. Still – knowing what he did about Granger, he suspected that they were having some sort of debate between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. He'd always wondered how on earth she'd ended up in the lion's den when she was so clearly meant for the eagle's nest.
The outcome was the same as it had been before though, and the hat finally called out "Gryffindor!"
When Draco's name was finally called, he glanced over at Harry one last time, wondering if their friendship would survive this evening, and finding himself honestly hoping that it would. Harry gave him a reassuring smile and a quick nod. Feeling his own tremulous smile faltering under his nerves he turned and headed up to the small stool. His eyes caught Severus' and the man gave him a curt nod. Draco sat down on the stool and watched as McGonagall lowered the hat onto his head and the great hall was suddenly blocked as the oversized had impeded his vision.
Unlike last time, the hat did not instantly call out Slytherin the second it touched his head.
"Well, well... isn't this interesting," a voice that wasn't his said inside his mind.
He stiffened as he suddenly realized that this hat could very well realize –
"It's been decades since the last student with the gal to meddle with time crossed my path," the hat said with what sounded like amusement in his mental voice.
Draco felt his blood chill but just as suddenly the words the hat had spoken registered. "You've come across others who have done this?"
"Of course I have. Do you honestly think you've accomplished something so rare and unusual? Meddling with time may be illegal, but it's hardly all that difficult. The only troublesome part is actually tracking down the information necessary to do it."
The world illegal sent another chill through him and he was suddenly terrified that he was about to get reported to the Ministry and carted off to Azkaban, or kissed by a dementor.
"Slow down there, child. No need to hyperventilate. I suggest we focus on more pressing matters – like getting you sorted. Now... where to put you? I see that you went to Slytherin last time, but you're not quite the same person you were the first time, anymore, are you?"
"You can't possibly be suggesting that you would put me somewhere else?" Draco mentally exclaimed, utterly horrified by the prospect. The only reason he'd gotten away with his friendship with Harry Potter so far, in his father's eyes, was because the man honestly believed that Draco was using the other boy. That he was trying to make connections with potentially inflluencial peers, and the fact that Potter was so obviously naïve only made it that much easier to make it look like Draco was taking advantage of him. But if he were sorted into one of the other houses... "Um, I don't suppose you're thinking of Ravenclaw, are you?" Draco tried, doubtfully.
The hat actually chuckled at him and he felt the queasy horror in his stomach increase.
"Oh, no. The eagle's nest isn't for you – although you certainly value knowledge, and have a hunger for expanding your own spell repertoire that would rival some in Rowena's house, your motives for doing so are more for gaining greater respect and power than for the sake of the knowledge itself."
"But doesn't that just show how obviously I belong in Slytherin? Ambition and cunning is what being Slytherin is all about! That's me to a 'T'!" Draco argued frantically because he knew that only two other options remained, and neither was acceptable.
"Ah, but Gryffindor is known for the traits of daring, nerve, and courage – sometimes to the point of recklessness. Can you possible think of anything that takes more nerve and courage, and the daring of the fiercest and most reckless of lions, than going back and meddling with time? I know you did not take such an action without knowing of the risks involved, and you know that they are great. Even more worthy of note is you choosing to take this action with the intention of setting things right, correcting past misdeeds, and saving your family from suffering and death?"
Draco felt his jaw floundering and could put together no coherent words – even mentally – for he was simply too stunned and horrified. Gryffindor? The bloody hat was considering putting him in Gryffindor?
A thought suddenly passed through his mind in regards to Harry. If he were to be sorted into Gryffindor then there would be far fewer obstacles in his way in forging a strong friendship with the Boy-Who-Lived. And while his father would be horrified and desperately disappointed in him in the immediate future, this change would increase his chances of saving his family from the terrible fate that would befall them if they were to follow the Dark Lord again.
But all his past alliances would be worthless. None of the Slytherin's would trust him. Hell, none of them would respect him, and he knew that was what would hurt the most. And it was unlikely that the other Gryffindors would trust him either simply because of his family name.
Merlin, this was insane!
"You cannot be serious?" Draco exclaimed desperately.
"Oh, I'm quite serious. I do believe I know just where to put you. It better be... GRYFFINDOR!"the had said, speaking the last word out loud.
Draco felt as if his heart had just stopped beating. His mouth went dry and for a brief moment, he feared he would faint. This simply could not be happening. He'd gone back in time to change some things, but this was not one of them!
Shakily, he reached up and dislodged the hat from his head and handed it to the deputy headmistress, who he suddenly realized would be his new head of house. She accepted it and while her expression did not give away any emotions in particular, her brows were slightly higher in her forehead than was quite normal.
As he slipped off the stool and found his footing, he was pulled suddenly out of his stunned stupor by the sound of excited clapping. His head rose and his eyes darted over to the source. It was Harry. He was smiling brightly and clapping for him. He almost wanted to laugh at how ridiculous the situation he found himself in, was.
A moment later, the occupants of the Gryffindor table began to clap as well, although it was hardly what Draco would consider enthusiastic. As he made his way over to the sea of red and gold on shaky legs, he was distinctly aware of the wary and surprised looks on the faces of several of the students from older families. He sat down heavily feeling numb and seriously off kilter. He felt as if all of his plans were suddenly thrown out the window and he was flying blind, but then he had to admit that he really didn't have much in the way of a plan for all of this. His plan had basically been to just make his way through his school years while maintaining a positive standing in the eye of Harry Potter and trying to make what few changes he was aware of that might help set a few more odds against the Dark Lord.
Now... now he felt like he didn't know what he was doing at all.
He finally pulled himself out of his stupor in order to return his focus to the sorting. Considering how close M and P were in the alphabet, you wouldn't expect there to be so damned many students called after him and before Potter, but it felt as if it just kept going on and on. Moon, Murray, Nott, Parkinson, Patil and Patil, Perks, and finally –
"Potter, Harry!" McGonagall called out and whispers filled the great hall almost instantly. People were suddenly craning their heads and turning their necks around other people; all trying to get a look at the famous Boy-Who-Lived, who was clearly uncomfortable under their scrutiny and whispers as he hunched his shoulders slightly, ducked his head, and hurried forward to the little stool and hat.
Draco sat on the edge of his seat with baited breath as Harry sat on the stool beneath the oversized brown wizards hat for what felt like an eternity. Had Potter's sorting taken this long the last time? Draco wasn't even sure. He was hardly paying attention at the time. Harry had already scorned him by that point, and he was sitting at the Slytherin table, preening, and acting the arrogant little prat he was at age eleven.
Draco hesitantly let his gaze travel to the Slytherin table at that moment. All of his previous life's friends were already there – except for Zabini, who would get sorted last. Pansy was there. Theo was there. Crabbe and Goyle, who he now suddenly realized looked absolutely bewildered and lost. What would they do without him there to order them around and tell them what to do? Maybe they'd actually develop a bit of self-reliance and learn to do a few things for themselves. That, or they'd fail all their classes.
His eyes met Pansy's and her brows rose into her forehead and a silent, but clearly stated question passed through her eyes. She was obviously shocked, but he doubted she could be nearly as shocked as he was.
Theo noticed her gaze and looked over as well. He was frowning, but it wasn't a hateful or disgusted expression, like he had feared. Mostly, he just looked... bewildered.
Some hushed murmers called Draco's attention away from the Slytherins and he turned his head back towards the front of the great hall just as the hat wiggled a bit, opened the rip in it that acted as a mouth and called out, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Draco heaved out a sign of relieve that he hadn't realized he was holding, and then immidiately chided himself for it. No one's else's sorting had changed at all. Only his. He'd already known that Harry was destined for Gryffindor, so why would that have changed?
The inhabitants of the Gryffindor table erupted in applause and shouting while the Weasley twins started chanting "We got Potter! We got Potter!"
The sudden realization that he was now in the same house as all of the Weasley's did not aid in already unsettled stomach, but his nerves were suddenly quelled as Potter rushed over and sat down directly beside him, giving him a bright smile.
"That was kind of close," Potter whispered directly in his ear as he leaned in close.
"Kind of close? What do you mean?" Draco asked, honestly confused by whatever Potter was talking about.
"The hat wanted to put me in Slytherin," he whispered as he ducked his head slightly and gave Draco a bashful grin. "You know, I was really stunned you ended up in Gryffindor. From your letters you sounded pretty positive you'd end up in Slytherin."
Draco felt too stunned by Potter's admission to know what to say for several seconds. The hat had wanted to put Potter into Slytherin? Had it wanted to do that in his original timeline? He realized he would never know, but it was a shocking concept. Rationally, he wasn't that surprised. In the last month while getting to know the boy, he had displayed quite a few Slytherin traits; especially in regards to deal with his relatives. But his courage, loyalty, and his sense of justice was pure Gryffindor.
Finally, Draco choked out a response. "Yeah, well... I'm pretty surprised by it too. If I'm being honest, I'm a bit worried about how my father will handle it."
Harry's smile subdued at that and he gave Draco an understanding nod but didn't say anything. The sorting went on and most conversation in the hall was gone except for the occasional quietly whispered conversation. Finally Draco couldn't stand it any longer and turned into Harry again to speak.
"The hat really wanted to put you in Slytherin?" he asked.
Harry shrugged bashfully but nodded his head.
"Why did it put you in Gryffindor then?"
"Er... I kind of asked it to. It said I could have gone to either, really. It gave me the choice."
Well, that didn't surprise him, he supposed. And the fact that Potter chose Gryffindor wasn't surprising at all. It was his father's house after all, and it didn't come with any of the stigma that loomed over Slytherin house like a thick gray fog, for having churned out a couple of Dark Lords over the last few centuries.
"I mean, I really didn't have any problems with going into Slytherin, and Pansy and Theo seemed really nice this morning on the train, but it's you who I actually know, you know?" Harry continued on, pulling Draco out of his musings. "I get that a lot of the bad things people say about Slytherin house is just people being biased, and it's really not fair to judge the whole house by a few bad apples, so I wasn't going to let any of that stuff I've heard decide for me which house I went to. So instead I... well, I guess I just wanted to be in the same house as my friend. If I could fit in either one, then in the end, I figured it came down to which house I already knew someone in, and that was you and Gryffindor. So that's where I asked it to put me."
Draco's jaw dropped and he gaped at Harry for longer than was socially acceptable. Which he realized, and quickly snapped his jaw shut.
Harry had picked Gryffindor for him? A sudden realization sparked to life in Draco's mind and he wondered if the reason Harry had ended up in Gryffindor in Draco's original timeline was because he'd specifically asked to be put in whatever house Draco wasn't in, therefore he ended up in Gryffindor instead of Slytherin with Draco. It was fairly obvious from even before the sorting that Draco had already made Potter loath him utterly. Was his snotty little attitude what had decided for Potter which house he ended up in?
This revelation that Harry, in this timeline had chosen to follow him to Gryffindor, also meant that if Draco had ended up in Slytherin, Harry probably would have followed him there as well. Harry Potter in Slytherin! Merlin, Draco couldn't even imagine the complications that would have caused! If he thought his plans had been skewed and complicated by his shift in houses, he couldn't even fathom how messed up his plans would have been, had Potter ended up in the snake pit.
Their conversation died away as Dean Thomas was sorted into Gryffindor and the applause around them filled the air. Harry applauded enthusiastically with the rest of the house while Draco barely managed to put any legitimate effort behind it. Dean Thomas. He was a mud-muggleborn – Merlin he needed to work on that... that just would not fly in Gryffindor house – and he would be one of Draco's new dorm mates.
He was going to be a Gryffindor. He was going to be... a... Gryffindor!
He realized he was in some form of shock. Some part of him was quite literally convinced that he was dreaming. That this was all an elaborate nightmare.
A nightmare that only got worse a few minutes later when Ron Weasley was sorted into Gryffindor and greeted enthusiastically by his twin-menace brothers.
He was going to have to share a room with Ron Weasley. The mere concept horrified him. He wanted to burry his head in the dirt, go to sleep, and wake up to discover this was all a terrible dream. But it wasn't.
Blaise Zabini was sorted into Slytherin and the sorting was finally drawn to a close. Dumbledore stood up, said a few seemingly random and nonsensical words, demonstrating how utterly senile he was, and then the tables were suddenly filled with food and the feast began.
Everyone quickly dug in and began filling their plates with food, but even with that ever present distraction, it only took a couple minutes before someone someone finally got up the nerve to say something stupid to Potter.
"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron Weasley asked around a mouth full of gravy-covered sliced turkey.
Of course it was Weasley who would act the part of obnoxious fanboy first. How did Potter ever end up best mates with this socially inept moron?
"Merlin, Weasley, swallow your food before speaking. That's disgusting," Draco sneered, grimacing at the bits of food that had flown from Weasley's mouth and landed on the table in front of him.
"Who asked you?" Weasley spat, shooting Draco a scathing glare. "What are you doing here, anyway? Shouldn't you be over at the Slytherin table? Never heard of a Malfoy ending up anywhere but the snake pit."
"The hat put me here, so this is apparently where I should be," Draco drawled, trying to keep his face indifferent and not show to any of these people just how terribly unsettled he really was at the moment.
"Leave Draco alone," Harry said, scowling mildly at Weasley. "If he was sorted into Gryffindor then he belongs in Gryffindor, just like the rest of us."
Harry speaking drew Weasley's attention back to him and while he looked a bit stunned and confused by the fact that Harry was defending Draco, his expression was quickly wiped away with awe and curiosity. "So are you really Harry Potter?"
Harry gave a slightly exasperated sigh and looked over at Draco. Draco gave him a sympathetic look in return because it was obvious that Potter could already tell that this whole celebrity thing was going to get very tiring, very quickly.
Refocusing on Weasley he nodded his head and spoke. "Yeah, that's right."
"And do you really have the, erm... the –" at this, Weasley's voice trailed off and he pointed at Harry's forehead.
"The scar?" Harry asked.
"Yeah," Weasley said, nodding his head quickly and looking relieved that Harry had said it first.
Harry shot another look over at Draco out of the corner of his eyes that secretly conveyed just how annoying he actually found this, but a moment later he was heaving a somewhat resigned sigh and lifting up the fringe on his forehead to bare the scar for all to see. The entire half of the table nearest them leaned in to look, and Harry quickly dropped his fringe in reaction.
"Alright you lot, this isn't a side-show. Enough gawking," Draco reprimanded them and quite a few at least had the decency to look cowed by his words.
Weasley wasn't one of them. He was on the opposite side of the table from them and did not apparently see any reason why he couldn't continue to gawk or ask inappropriate questions. He leaned further across the table and spoke in a quieter voice that, given the din of the room still needed to be fairly loud in order to be heard by Harry.
"So do you remember what happened? That night I mean?" Weasley asked, pointing towards Harry's scar again.
"You mean, do I remember the night my parents were brutally murdered in front of me?" Harry said in a sharp, curt tone that Draco was rather impressed by.
Weasley's face went almost as red as his hair and the look was ghastly on him. "I – I – er," he stuttered.
"Merlin's beard, I knew Ronnikins has always been a bit dense with the social graces –"
"–but even we didn't think you'd be be that insensitive."
"Please do forgive our little brother."
"We may have been responsible for him getting dropped on his head a time or two as an infant."
"Shut up!" Weasley exclaimed with a horrified whine as his two twin brothers spoke from two spots to Harry's right.
The nearest one reached over the Patil girl who sat between he and Harry and offered his hand to Harry. "Names George Weasley. I'm sorry to say, but I'm this gits older brother."
"And I'm Fred Weasley," the other one, one seat further still said, leaning forward and waving his hand in greeting.
Harry reached across the Patil girl and took George's hand in a quick shake. As he retreated his hand he said a quiet apology to the Patil girl for reaching across her like that and asked her name. She responded by saying her name was Parvati Patil. A few more introductions from those in the immediate vicinity were made after that.
Discussion flowed easily at the table during the meal. Harry asked Longbottom if he'd had any success in finding his toad and the boy had then beamed and nodded, saying that the first prefect they found had been able to summon the toad on the first try, and he was now securely lodged in his pet carrier with Longbottom's luggage.
No one else at the table was making any efforts to start conversation with Draco, but Harry clearly was making it a point to bring him in to any discussions others were trying to have with him. He also turned to Draco every time he had a question about something that someone else had said that he didn't know much about.
Draco had become accustomed by this point, to answering Harry's questions and didn't hesitate for a moment to explain anything asked of him. Seeing the opportunity for what it was, Granger, who was sitting on the opposite end of the table, two seats down from Weasley, began asking questions as well.
By the time the puddings had disappeared, he felt drained from the interrogation he felt he'd just endured. As eager as Harry had always been to learn as much as he could about the magical world he had suddenly found himself a part of, Granger was far far more intense.
One curious thing had taken place during the question and answer question that was his dinner. In the middle of taking a bit of something, Harry suddenly gasped and his hand flew up to his forehead and clasped over his scar. His eyes went to the head table and a questioning look graced his face.
"Hey, Draco?"
"Yeah Harry?"
"I don't suppose you know who that is sitting beside Professor Quirrell?"
Draco turned and looked up at the head table, wondering suddenly why Harry knew which one was Quirrell. His eyes landed upon the teacher in question for a moment before he turned back to Harry. "That's Severus... Professor Snape. My godfather. I told you about him."
"That's him?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Oh, er... well, he was just sort of glaring at me, and it was like my... my scar just suddenly hurt. It was weird."
"What was Quirrell doing?"
"Huh?"
"When your scar hurt, what was Quirrell doing?"
"Oh, er... I don't know. I wasn't really looking at him. He had his head turned away from me."
Draco gave a slow, small nod, looking thoughtful.
"Why?" Harry asked in a quiet voice after a silent minute passed.
"I think... I think you should be careful about Quirrell," Draco whispered back.
"Why?" Harry asked, looking both confused, but also suddenly cautious. It was really incredible to Draco that Harry was so ready and willing to trust him. It was so drastically counter to his experience with Harry in his previous timeline that he was still adjusting to it.
"I can't say anything for sure. Not yet anyway. But... well, let's just wait until our first defense class and see if what I heard sounds right. Just... be cautious around him, just to be safe, alright?"
Harry gave a determined nod. "Alright."
The whole evening had been exhausting and by the end of it, Draco felt utterly drained. Therefore, he was quite relieved when the plates all suddenly cleared of their contents, and the hall fell silent as the headmaster stood up and cleared his throat. The start of term speech he made was exactly as Draco remembered, right down to the warning about the third floor corridor being off limits.
Finally they were told to follow the prefects and were dismissed from the Great Hall. As Draco followed behind Percy Weasley with the other first-year Gryffindors he felt his heart heavy in his chest as he filled with dread. In his original timeline he had written hope that first night to proudly inform his parents about his sorting into Slytherin. He knew they would be expecting as much now too, but he was utterly dreading it.
After a few minutes of following behind the Weasley's prattish older brother through the Grand Staircase he found them led to the top of a staircase where they were faced with a very large portrait of a very large woman. Percy Weasley informed them that she was called the 'Fat Lady' and that she was the guardian to their common room. They were told the password and then led inside and then quickly shown around before being led up the stairs to the boys dorm.
Draco found himself a bit confused by the lack of any speech or interaction with their head of house. On his original first night Snape had come into the Slytherin common room and given them all a rather stern talking to before sending them off to bed. It appeared that McGonagall did not feel the need to do that with her Lions – although Draco thought it would probably have done the school quite a lot of good if she had.
He trudged up the stairs with his new dorm mates and the group of them settled into their new room. It was a stark contrast to the dungeons he was accustomed to. They were in one of the tallest towers now. There were six boys in Gryffindor this year now that Draco had meddled with time. Their dorm room was a large circular-shaped room with a wood-burning stove in the center and the six beds around it in a circle. Draco's bed was closest to the door on the left-hand side. Immediately after him was Harry, then Weasley's. As Draco went over to his pristine and brand-new top-of-the-line trunk, Weasley walked past him and gave him an angry glower before moving onto his own second-hand and rather ratty-looking trunk. Harry was blissfully oblivious of any of the tension and instead flopped himself down on the bed and bounced slightly with a look of absolute glee on his face.
Draco pulled out his stationary supplies and set them on the small wooden desk between his bed and his wardrobe and stared at a piece of parchment for a long minute before heaving a sigh and deciding to tackle it in the morning. He just could not bring himself to face his parents disappointment so soon.
Instead he went back to his trunk and began to pull out his clothing and put it into his wardrobe. Once he had enough dealt with for the time being, he changed into his bed clothes, made a quick trip to the loo, said goodnight to Harry and crawled into bed.