Chapter 7 – The Train to Hogwarts
The lazy days of summer were over. The first day of school had finally arrived.
"I really don't want our baby to go," Narcissa whispered, clutching Draco's hand with one hand and dabbing at her eyes with the other as the three of them stood before King's Cross Station.
"Mother, you should be happy. I'm going to make new friends at school," Draco said gently, trying to comfort her instead.
"Remember, stay away from those M—" Lucius paused only long enough to make sure Draco understood. "Mudbloods." He repeated it in a low voice.
There's no future in discrimination, Draco thought with an inward sigh. Outwardly, he answered with obedient calm. "Of course, Father."
"It's time," he said after checking his watch.
"I should board now."
"Go on." Lucius's face remained its usual cool mask, but the way his hand tightened around Draco's luggage betrayed his reluctance.
Narcissa made no attempt to hide her feelings. She pulled Draco into a long, tight hug.
"Write to us the moment anything happens," she said, kissing his cheek.
"I will." Draco stepped away and walked toward the scarlet steam engine.
Smoke curled overhead as the train whistled, chattering families swarmed the platform, and cats darted between feet. Owls hooted sharply from their cages, answering one another with impatient cries. Students leaned from the windows, calling to their parents, while others clambered into crowded compartments.
Draco boarded and reached his reserved compartment almost immediately. One glance around made him huff a soft laugh.
"Privilege really does rot people." His voice was dry. Lucius had obviously pulled strings. First-years were not meant to have private compartments. Prefects barely managed it.
"In all honesty, I just want a nap before school starts." That was why he told Crabbe and Goyle not to follow him. Nothing killed peace like their snoring.
He pulled out the latest issue of The Singing Sorceress—the real wizarding magazine behind the mangled translation "Sopranos"—and flipped through it to kill time. Lunch arrived a while later, but the train food didn't tempt him. He nibbled a bit, then leaned back, closing his eyes.
So much for resting.
"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost his toad!" A girl burst into his compartment without knocking. A round-faced boy shuffled in behind her, looking mortified.
The girl had a bushy mass of brown hair and slightly oversized front teeth. Her voice was loud enough to rattle the windows, and her tone carried a faint touch of bossiness.
What must happen will always find a way, Draco thought. He had hoped to avoid the Golden Trio, but fate was not on his side.
"Oh. Why are you sitting alone?" the girl—Hermione Granger—asked. She clearly couldn't piece together how someone their age had an entire compartment to himself.
"I don't believe that's something you need to know," Draco replied smoothly. "Before asking for help, I suggest offering your name first. Basic manners, don't you think?"
He already knew her name, of course, but on principle, privilege shouldn't be flaunted too openly.
"I'm Hermione Granger. You can call me Hermione." She gestured toward the boy behind her. "And this is Neville Longbottom. He's lost his toad."
"I've heard of you, Neville. My parents mentioned your family. Your parents were remarkable Aurors," Draco said sincerely. Lucius and Narcissa certainly didn't praise the Longbottoms, but Draco respected people who sacrificed everything for what they believed.
"Really?" Neville lifted his head. His eyes brightened—as though he'd never received a compliment in his life. Perhaps he hadn't.
"Alright, Mr Longbottom. Let's think about where your toad might've wandered. Maybe we could try the Summoning Ch—"
Before Hermione could jump in and question how a first-year knew advanced spells, Draco cut himself off. "Actually, that won't help if you don't know where he is to begin with. Better to think about his habits."
Hermione's mouth was half-open with a question when a voice interrupted from the doorway.
"Neville, Hermione! There you are! We looked through the whole train!"
Perfect. The whole trio, assembled. Draco suppressed a sigh.
Ron Weasley entered first, followed by a skinny boy with messy hair, glasses, and a lightning bolt scar.
Harry Potter.
"Hello," Harry said politely. "Are you helping them find Neville's toad?"
Ron, however, eyed Draco like he'd stepped in something unpleasant.
Draco inclined his head. "And you must be Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. It's an honour."
Harry squinted, then pointed at him. "I saw you in Madam Malkin's shop."
"Then fate must be nudging us together," Draco said lightly. "I suppose we'll be friends. My name is Draco Malfoy." He extended his hand.
Harry almost took it—until Ron leaned in and muttered loudly, "His parents were Death Eaters. Whole family's Slytherin. That's where You-Know-Who came from. Nearly every Dark wizard comes out of there."
Harry froze mid-gesture, unsure whether to shake or retreat.
Hermione stepped back as well. Her knowledge came from books, not whispers, so her bias was actually worse. Ron added fuel.
"They think pure-bloods are better than everyone. Hate Muggle-borns the most. Honestly, Hermione, it's dangerous for you to be here."
Hermione backed up another step, nearly hitting the corner. Her face went pale. Reading about cruelty was one thing. Being told you were its target was another.
Draco lowered his hand, eyes cooling. "It seems I'm not welcome. Then please leave. I'd like to rest."
Harry looked stricken, clearly aware he'd mishandled things, but embarrassment glued his mouth shut.
As the trio turned to go, Draco spoke again—this time quietly, pointedly, to Hermione.
"People who judge others by their label rarely realise they'll be judged the same way someday."
Hermione said nothing, her lips pressed tight.
Draco turned to Neville. "Longbottom, I hope we can be friends. Here's a tip, as goodwill. After we disembark, check the boats carefully. There might be a surprise waiting."
Unlike Ron and Hermione, Neville hadn't flinched from Draco once. He simply nodded.
Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville left the compartment. For most, the encounter had been far from pleasant.
Some things really are inevitable, Draco thought. Call it fate if you like.
"Bang!" Ron kicked the wall as soon as the door slid shut.
Harry and Hermione didn't look any happier.
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