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Chapter 3 - Chapter 3: The Worm Within

Draco Malfoy's mood visibly soured as his eyes fell on the redheaded boy beside Harry in the compartment.

"…Hey, Potter. Been a while," Draco said.

"Yeah, since Madam Malkin's," Harry replied.

"Right. Haven't introduced these two," Draco continued, gesturing. "Crabbe on the left, Goyle on the right. They'll likely join Slytherin, like you and me."

"…Huh?" Ron muttered, staring at Harry in confusion.

As Harry exchanged greetings with Draco, Ron's bewilderment was palpable.

Draco had boasted to Harry about his family's wealth—land in both wizarding and Muggle worlds, stakes in major companies, and vast assets. That alone made the Malfoys insufferable elites. But there was more.

Draco's father, Lucius, had been Voldemort's right-hand man, injuring and killing countless wizards and innocent Muggles. Despite his heinous crimes, Lucius's wealth and connections let him dodge punishment with flimsy excuses, thriving unpunished to this day.

Ron scoffed, a mix of disbelief and mockery, at Draco's brazen pride. Draco responded with open disdain.

"No need to introduce your friend, Potter," Draco sneered. "If I were you, I'd choose my company better. Not some broke, overbred Weasley riffraff. Must've been tough, stuck here. Come to my compartment. Slytherin will welcome you."

Draco had told his father about meeting Harry at Madam Malkin's, including Harry's resentment toward Muggles. Lucius, recalling his junior, Severus Snape, saw potential to manipulate Harry as he had Snape. A non-pure-blood like Harry shouldn't fit in Slytherin, especially with parents killed by a Slytherin alumnus. Yet, Muggle-born or mixed-blood children harboring grudges against Muggles sometimes embraced pure-blood ideology to reject their origins.

Snape, and even Lucius's master, Voldemort, had followed that path. Many wizards, desperate to belong, turned to darkness.

Potter's useful, Lucius thought. Befriend him, groom him as a dark wizard, and he'd be a valuable asset—like Snape, who'd served Lucius well after being indebted. A boy who survived the Dark Lord was worth exploiting. If Voldemort returned, offering Harry could secure the Malfoys' safety. Controlling Harry meant playing both sides—good and evil.

Thus, Lucius urged Draco to befriend Harry.

Raised with parental love and indoctrination, Draco was determined to win Harry over. But he lacked experience with true, equal friendships. Peers like Theodore Nott were tied to him through Lucius's connections. Nott deferred to Draco, but Draco rarely considered Nott's feelings. A king among peers, Draco was lonely.

Blessed with privilege, Draco couldn't grasp how his insults to Ron, a have-not, wounded Harry, who, despite his wizarding lineage, had lived as a have-not.

"Sorry, Draco," Harry said after a moment's hesitation, rejecting his outstretched hand. "I choose my own friends. Being Slytherin doesn't mean you get to dismiss Ron."

A whistle escaped Ron's lips.

Draco's words were a clear insult to Ron's family. Ron's Slytherin prejudice had worried Harry, but their discussions left room for understanding. Insults and scorn, however, taught Harry nothing but pain from his decade with the Dursleys.

Draco's jab at Ron's poverty stung Harry indirectly, echoing his own hardships.

Crabbe and Goyle gaped at Harry. No child had ever spoken to Draco so boldly.

"I'll pretend I misheard, Potter," Draco said, his voice tightening. "Or do you want to end up like your rotten parents?"

Harry didn't stay silent at the slur against his parents.

"I admire your charm and wit, Draco," Harry said. "But I hate how you hurt people with malice and don't care."

Harry didn't think Draco was without virtues. Having two human friends already put him on par, or slightly above, Harry's own social skills. But Draco's cruelty reminded him of Dudley, fueling disgust and overshadowing his better traits.

"Only pure-blood wizards matter, Potter," Draco snapped.

"I don't think so," Harry replied.

Ron and Crabbe watched, holding their breath, as Harry and Draco locked eyes, neither budging.

Draco broke first.

What do I do? I told Father I'd befriend Potter… He'll be furious.

Lucius's disappointed face flashed in Draco's mind. Eager for praise, Draco had exaggerated his bond with Harry.

If I make an enemy of Potter now, what will Father say?

But Draco couldn't back down. Reconciling with a Weasley, especially in front of Crabbe and Goyle, would undermine his authority. He knew they followed him partly out of family loyalty. Yielding here would lose their respect.

Goyle broke the tense silence.

"Man, I'm starving," he said. "Got any spare sweets? Hook me up."

"Sweets?" Harry blinked. "Sure. What do you want?"

Goyle, oblivious to the power struggle or Draco's turmoil, cared only about his hunger. Harry, who'd bought the sweets just for conversation, had no attachment to them. As he reached to hand some over, a gust whipped past.

"Gah!" Goyle yelped.

It wasn't wind but Scabbers, Ron's hand-me-down pet rat, sinking its teeth into Goyle's finger with ferocious determination.

"Ow!" Goyle shouted.

"Your finger okay, Goyle?" Harry asked.

Shaking Scabbers off, Goyle revealed faint tooth marks.

"I'm outta here!" Draco barked. "Let's go, Goyle, Crabbe!"

"But the sweets…" Goyle mumbled.

"Hold out till the feast! Don't embarrass me further!"

Without addressing Harry or apologizing to Ron, Draco seized the chance to flee the compartment.

"Nice work, Scabbers," Ron said, grinning. "Solid job… and he's out cold already."

"Feel kinda bad for Goyle," Harry said.

"Really? Really?" Ron teased.

Harry smirked mischievously at Ron's proud grin over his pet.

Then, a voice only Harry heard slithered into his ear.

"Harry. Yo, Harry. You hear me, right? Don't answer—just listen."

"What?" Harry said aloud.

"Drafty window?" Ron guessed.

Brushing it off, Harry resumed chatting with Ron. Meanwhile, Asclepius, his beloved krait, continued.

"That redhead's rat, Scabbers… it ain't a rat. I eat small rats, so I know. You trust my word, Harry."

Harry nearly spat out his pumpkin juice but swallowed hard, draining the glass.

"Bet it's some dark wizard disguised as a rat, sneaking into that kid's house. Turn it over to an adult quick, or it won't just be bites."

As a krait, Asclepius was merely a reptile, but magical creatures raised in the wizarding world seemed to gain near-human intelligence, perhaps from magic's influence. Though not fully grasping language, they sensed nuances in human behavior.

Harry wavered.

Asclepius could be mistaken—Scabbers might just be a clever wizarding rat.

But what if it wasn't?

What do I do? Tell an adult and have them seize it? If it's human, that's safer… No, adults can't be trusted. I need proof first.

A decade with the Dursleys taught Harry that adults lie and can't be trusted. If he reported this without evidence and was wrong, he'd be dismissed as a liar, risking his friendship with Ron.

But ignoring Scabbers was reckless. If it was a dark wizard, Ron could be in danger.

Harry mentally cataloged his options, recalling useful spells.

While strategizing, he kept up his chat with Ron, returning to their interrupted topic—his desired house.

"You wanna join Slytherin, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "You think I don't fit there?"

At that moment, Harry swore Scabbers nodded at his words.

Stay cool. Don't react. It might have just looked like that, but if it's true, I can't let it know I've noticed.

Perhaps Asclepius's warning made him paranoid, or Scabbers was human and understood him. Either way, Harry couldn't let the rat sense his tension.

"Honestly? I think you're more Gryffindor," Ron said. "You were brave back there."

Gryffindor's values—fearless courage and chivalric kindness—shone in Harry's defiance of Draco, in Ron's eyes.

"Thanks," Harry said, warmed by the praise. "That means a lot… But I want to be a great wizard."

Harry appreciated Ron's words but didn't feel Gryffindor. suited him.

"If I had courage, I wouldn't be here," he said softly.

"You've got courage!" Ron insisted. "You just picked a fight with Malfoy!"

"That was different," Harry said. "I trusted Draco would listen. I thought he wasn't like… you know, people who don't."

Like Dudley and his lot, Harry thought.

He offered Ron a faint smile. If Harry needed courage, it was to apologize to the Dursleys and Dudley for the shack incident. But that moment had passed.

He couldn't muster that bravery.

Gryffindor's valor, unlike Slytherin's cunning, aligned with Hufflepuff's honesty and sincerity—facing oneself and doing what's right. Slytherin's cunning, often tinged with negative connotations, contrasted with this.

Harry craved glory—to join Slytherin and become a great wizard.

Anything less would dishonor his parents, who died to save him, or justify betraying Vernon and Petunia by abandoning the Muggle world.

Glory and fame were Harry's attempt to fill the void within.

But he was also greedy.

"If I end up in a different house, would you still be my friend, Ron?" he asked.

Greed let him voice such a selfish hope. Choosing one path meant forsaking others, but Harry didn't yet grasp that.

"Of course!" Ron said instinctively. In that moment, his Slytherin prejudice vanished. He just wanted to stay friends with the boy he'd bonded with.

Harry thought he saw Scabbers sneer from Ron's chest.

Blushing, Ron mumbled, "But, like, I really think Gryffindor suits you. No bad way."

"You're the one who fits Gryffindor," Harry said.

Ron's ears reddened. Despite his complaints, Gryffindor was his dream, and being chosen for it was the highest praise.

But Harry couldn't choose that bravery—or felt unworthy of it.

"Still, it's unlikely," Ron said, "but if you got Slytherin, maybe it's not as bad as I thought."

With those words, the Hogwarts Express journey ended.

Stepping off the train, Harry and Ron were awestruck by a lake reflecting Hogwarts Castle, framed by dense, shadowy trees. As upperclassmen boarded horseless carriages, Harry and Ron awaited the boats for first-years, reuniting with an unexpected figure.

"Oi, first-years! First-years over 'ere!" a familiar voice boomed.

"Saw him in Diagon Alley with Mum," Ron said. "Hagrid's the greeter…"

Hagrid, Harry's first friend and magical mentor, was tasked with welcoming new students.

"Hagrid! I missed you!" Harry called.

Draco and a few others whispered scornfully at Harry's familiarity with Hagrid.

"Good ter see ya, Harry!" Hagrid grinned. "Grown a bit, eh?"

"Thanks to you," Harry said. "We're taking these boats to Hogwarts?"

"Aye! First-years, hold on tight—it's a bumpy ride!" Hagrid bellowed.

"Wait, please!" a boy wailed. "Trevor's gone!"

"Trevor?" Harry said.

"That missing toad?" Ron asked, exchanging glances.

Hagrid quickly resolved it.

"Found a toad stuck to an oar earlier," he said. "This it?"

"Trevor!" the boy cried. "Thank you, Hagrid!"

Harry wanted to thank Hagrid more and catch up, but he restrained himself. Reaching Hogwarts came first.

Aboard Hagrid's boat, first-years marveled at the castle's reflection in the lake and its towering grandeur, stepping into Hogwarts for the first time.

The Great Hall dazzled with decorations in red, blue, green, and yellow, proclaiming the four houses' pride. Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, clad in witch's robes, explained the houses.

Hufflepuff valued sincerity and diligence. Harry knew he was neither honest nor kind.

Ravenclaw prized wisdom and inquiry. To Harry, knowledge was a tool for his future, not a pursuit for its own sake—not his fit.

Gryffindor's bravery and chivalry needed no explanation.

Slytherin revered cunning and tradition, echoing the Dursleys' rigid order. Harry reconsidered his house choice deeply.

But first, there's something I need to do.

He glanced at Ron's chest, where Scabbers slept in his pocket.

As the Sorting Ceremony began, first-years were told to line up alphabetically. With teachers' eyes on them, Harry seized the moment, pointing his wand at Ron's chest and chanting a spell.

"Specialis Revelio! (Unmask yourself!)"

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