Draco was a contradiction.
Although he always appeared aloof, polished, and far too mature for his age, he sometimes acted startlingly childishly. Like when the little witch had appeared with Neville, nervously asking for help—Draco hadn't refused. He had helped them without a second thought.
From this alone, it was clear that Draco wasn't as cold or unkind as people assumed.At the end of the day, he was just an eleven-year-old boy, no matter how effortlessly aristocratic he looked.
But those around him often forgot Draco's real age. Perhaps it was the quiet sharpness in his eyes, or the way he carried himself like a young lord instead of a first-year student.Yet none of this stopped the constant stream of voices drifting at his side…
...…
"Every new student has to cross this lake when they enter Hogwarts. I read about it in A History of Hogwarts."
"I think there must be some deeper symbolic meaning—tradition, unity, maybe even protection charms around the lake."
"And by the way, which house do you think is better—oh, and which one are you aiming for?"
At some point, Goyle and Crabbe, who had been standing loyally beside Draco, were nowhere to be seen. Instead, a little witch—with bright brown eyes and an unstoppable tongue—stood in their place, chattering away as though Draco had invited her.
Which he absolutely had not.
And yet… not long ago, he had helped her and Neville.That was probably why she felt so at ease approaching him.
Draco, standing with his arms folded and waiting to be guided across the moonlit lake, first glanced toward Crabbe and Goyle, who were now running clumsily toward the chaotic, red-haired Weasley family.
Then he looked down ever so slightly at the girl beside him, who was nearly a head shorter.
Hermione.
"I say… you're not from a wizarding family."
"I heard that Slytherins are all—eh?"
His sudden remark startled the little witch into silence. Her lips parted in surprise, and under the soft wash of moonlight, the expression only made her features look rounder, softer—almost endearing.
"What's wrong with that?!" she shot back immediately, cheeks warming."I don't think that should be a reason for anyone to treat me differently!"
Her voice was tight with indignation, her brows furrowed.She was very much like a small hedgehog—bristly, proud, and unwilling to be looked down on by anyone.
Draco understood that. He recognized her pride. But he also noticed how sensitive she was.
"Are you stupid?"
"HUH!?"
The little witch nearly exploded. She stared at Draco's annoyingly handsome profile in disbelief, her brown eyes burning. She had never expected that to be his answer.
"Didn't you notice?"
"What is that supposed to mean?!"
"Look around you, you idiot."
"…"
She didn't understand what Draco meant—but she definitely understood the insult. Her glare sharpened. Draco's lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smirk threatening to appear.
Being raised among pure-blood nobles, Draco had been surrounded all his life by stiff politeness and predictable manners.Meeting such a sharp-tongued little witch—especially one who dared to snap back at him—was strangely refreshing.
And, admittedly, quite entertaining.
...…
There was, in fact, a reason behind Draco's words.
If Hermione hadn't been staring up at him the whole time, she might have realized that dozens of young wizards around them were sneaking glances her way.
Suspicion.Curiosity.Admiration.Fear.
Except for a handful, most of the students recognized Draco immediately.
Because in the wizarding world, who didn't know the Malfoy family?
A lineage of ancient prestige.Heir to old money, political influence, and pure-blood nobility.And, more visibly—that unmistakable pale-gold hair shining beneath the moonlight.
Parents had warned their children about pure-blood families long before the term began. Some had urged caution; others had encouraged politeness; a few had whispered fear.
As a result, many students—uncertain, intimidated, or simply respectful—kept a careful distance from Draco.
Those who didn't understand the subtleties of pure-blood society were repelled by Draco's cool, aloof aura.
And so, the only little witch brave—or oblivious—enough to walk straight to him became an immediate spectacle among the gathered students.
Only… Hermione herself had no idea.
...…
A tall figure approached the lake, the lanterns swinging gently at his belt.
The Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts.A half-giant to those who knew a little more.
"Firs'-years over here!" Hagrid boomed warmly."Come on now—four ter a boat!"
As he spoke, a series of small wooden boats—each carrying a glowing lantern—floated out of the inky darkness. They glided toward the shore silently, guided by invisible magic.
The sight made Hermione's mouth drop open. The boats looked like fragments of the night, shimmering with soft enchantments.
She might have stayed staring if Draco hadn't stepped forward to board.
"Are these boats magical objects? Or are they enchanted? They have to be enchanted. Maybe levitation spells. Or something older—"
"I've read about this tradition," she continued quickly, climbing into the boat after him."Each boat can hold exactly four people. The four founders crossed the lake like this when they first built Hogwarts, so students follow the same path during their Sorting—"
Her voice seemed to blend with the gentle lapping of water around them.
"Um… Draco, who is this person?"
"Which family is she from?"
Goyle and Crabbe had reappeared, squeezing into the same boat, staring at Hermione as though she had sprouted extra heads. To them, seeing a girl willingly sit beside Draco was almost stranger than seeing a dragon.
Draco shot them both an unimpressed glance before looking at Hermione again.
"Just a fool…"
"Hermione Granger."The little witch straightened proudly, though her fists were clenched hard."And I'm not an idiot!"
Her shout echoed across the black lake, causing a few heads to turn. Draco didn't bother to hide his quiet chuckle.
The boat drifted forward, gliding over still waters that reflected starlight like liquid glass.
Behind them, dozens of other boats followed in neat lines, their lanterns forming a river of trembling gold.
Ahead, rising from the darkness, the ancient castle emerged—its towering spires illuminated by moonlight, windows glowing like watchful eyes.
The air was filled with wonder, nerves, whispered hopes, and fledgling dreams.
The youngest witches and wizards of the year were finally approaching their new home.
A school of magic.A place woven with centuries of secrets and spells.A castle that welcomed them with brilliance and mystery.
The journey across the lake had begun.And at last—
They were arriving.Hogwarts.
A world where everything would change.