Disclaimer:
Harry Potter and all of its characters belong to J.K. Rowling.
I own nothing but the original characters I make.
“Dialogue”
‘Thoughts’
-Author notes-
Chapter 13: Train Ride
There was a long moment of silence that followed.
Ron Weasley's smirk had returned, but something had shifted behind his eyes. He was no longer looking at Harry as an annoyance to be rid of, but as an opportunity.
“Potter,” Ron said slowly. “James Potter's son. The war hero.”
Harry said nothing. His jaw was still tight, his body still angled between the Weasley brothers and the dark-haired girl behind him.
“I heard you were coming to school this year,” Ron continued, “but I didn't expect you to look so… mundane.”
“He is dressed like one of those muggles,” Fred observed.
“Has he been living with them?” George added.
Ron shook his head. “No matter. He is here now, among the right people.” He extended his hand. “No hard feelings about the compartment. You didn't know. I'm Ron Weasley, and these are my brothers, Fred and George.” He gestured to the twins, who nodded in unison with sharp grins. “We could be friends, Potter. I could show you how things work around here. Like, for example, who matters and…” His eyes slid to the black-haired girl. “Who doesn't. You don't want to end up mixed up with the wrong circles.”
Harry looked at the offered hand. It was pale and clean, the nails trimmed perfectly. A signet ring gleamed on Ron's middle finger: the Weasley crest: a rampant lion surrounded by gold.
He did not take it.
Ron's smile flickered.
“I'm not interested,” Harry said flatly. He found this version of the Weasleys completely repulsive. It wasn't because they were rich and powerful. It was their attitude, those fake smiles that never reached their eyes.
The twins exchanged glances. Ron's hand hovered in the air for a moment longer, then dropped to his side. His expression darkened.
“Not interested?” he repeated, as if the words were in a foreign language. “You're new here, Potter. You don't know who can be your allies or your enemies. But trust me… you do not want the Weasleys as enemies.”
“I'll take my chances,” Harry said.
Ron's eyes narrowed, then slid past Harry to the girl cowering behind him. “I see you would rather spend your time with the likes of Pansy Parkinson. Daughter of the traitor, Cyrus Parkinson.” He spat the word traitor like it was poison. “You should be careful who you associate with, Potter. Some wizard families are better than others. Hers is filled with traitors and cowards.”
The girl flinched but said nothing. Her dark eyes were fixed on the floor.
Harry felt fury building in his chest. He knew nothing about this magical world, but he could recognise a bully when he saw one.
“I don't care about her family,” Harry said. “I don't care about yours either. I'm not going to be your friend, Weasley. Not now, and not ever.”
Ron's face flushed red. His hand moved towards his pocket – towards his wand.
“You'll regret that, Potter.”
“Ron,” one of the twins said with urgency.
“Excuse me.”
The voice came from down the corridor. It sounded sharp and commanding. They all turned to see a tall girl with long blonde hair, much older than they were, a prefect's badge gleaming on her chest.
“The train is about to depart,” she said. “Everyone needs to be in their compartments. Now.”
Ron hesitated, his eyes still locked on Harry. Then he stepped back, smoothing his robes with forced calm.
“This isn't over,” he murmured. Then he raised his voice. “You heard the prefect. Move along, Potter. And remember...this compartment belongs to the Weasleys. Don't forget it again.”
The twins stepped aside, their mockery replaced by cold, watchful stillness.
Harry didn't wait. He grabbed his bag, then took the girl's wrist and pulled her down the corridor, away from the Weasleys, their cruel smiles and expensive robes.
They didn't stop until they had rounded a corner and the prefect's voice had faded into the rumble of the train.
The girl pulled her wrist free, breathing hard. Her face was still pale, but some colour was returning to her cheeks.
“You shouldn't have done that,” she said. “Standing up to Ron Weasley. That was stupid.”
“Maybe,” Harry admitted. “But I meant what I said. I don't like people like him.”
The girl stared at him for a long moment. Then she shook her head and started walking again.
“Come on,” she said. “My compartment is further up. It's not much, but it's safe. No one bothers us there.”
“Us?”
She didn't answer. She led him through several more carriages, past compartments filled with wary-eyed students, until she stopped in front of a small door near the middle of the train.
“Here,” she said. “Come on, before another prefect sees us.”
She slid the door open.
Inside, two boys sat facing each other.
Harry was surprised to recognise one of them. Draco Malfoy was unmistakable with his short blonde hair and pale grey eyes. He looked as surprised as Harry felt.
“Potter?” Draco said.
“Wait, you know each other already?” the girl asked.
Harry glanced at the other boy...he was large, broad-shouldered, with a flat face and small dull eyes. He was sucking on a liquorice wand and seemed entirely uninterested in anything happening around him.
“Pansy,” Draco said, rising to his feet. “What happened? You look terrible.”
“Weasleys,” Pansy scoffed, sliding into the compartment and collapsing onto the bench. “Ron and the twins. They caught us in their compartment.”
Draco's eyes flicked to Harry. “What? What were you doing in the Weasleys' compartment? I thought you went to the bathroom.”
“I did!” she exclaimed. “But then I saw some boy dressed in Muggle clothes walking in there, and… I knew I had to do something.”
“I didn't know it was theirs,” Harry said, entering the compartment and locking the door behind him. “I just wanted an empty seat. How was I supposed to…”
“Ah… that must have been scary.” Draco shook his head. “But it's good to see you again, Potter.”
“Call me Harry,” he said. For some reason, he didn't like being called Potter.
“So you do know each other,” Pansy said. “I was sure he was a Muggle-born by the way he was dressed… we don't get many of those anymore.”
“Mmm?” Harry's interest sharpened. “What do you mean? Why not?”
“Pansy,” Draco interrupted. “We should introduce ourselves properly to Harry.”
“Right!” The girl perked up. “I'm Pansy Parkinson. But… you already heard that.” She pointed at the large boy. “And this is Vincent Crabbe.”
The boy grunted and waved his liquorice wand in a vague greeting.
“He doesn't talk much,” Pansy said. “But he's loyal.”
“Well, nice to meet you all.” Harry sat down across from Draco, next to Pansy, and did his best not to look nervous.
He was very familiar with these names. Pansy Parkinson was supposed to be the Slytherin girl who followed Draco around and was cruel to Hermione. Crabbe was one of Malfoy's minions...not much more to his character other than a love of food.
It seemed things were the same here.
However, there was no sign of the missing minion.
'Where is Goyle?' Harry wondered. Of course, he couldn't ask that. He wasn't supposed to know that name.
The train was moving now, the grey countryside beginning to slide past the window. The compartment was small and cramped, but it felt safer than anywhere else on the train.
After they had settled in, Pansy explained to Draco and Vincent the details of their encounter with the red-haired family.
“You made an enemy of the Weasleys,” Draco said. “On your first day. That takes talent.” He tried to sound casual, but there was concern underneath his words.
“I can't stand people like that,” Harry said. “Couldn't help it.”
“When we are at Hogwarts, you need to be more careful, Harry,” Draco warned. “The Weasley family has a lot of influence. Lord Weasley is not only a member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, but he is also the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.”
Harry flinched. He had guessed the Weasleys were powerful in this world, but Chief Warlock was unexpected.
That position had belonged to Dumbledore in the books. But if it was now held by one of his most loyal followers, it must have been the Headmaster's decision.
“That sounds… scary,” Harry said.
“You have no idea,” Pansy muttered. “They can make your life at school completely miserable if they want to. Like they did to my older brother.”
Harry glanced at her. “Your brother?”
“Let's not get into that now, please,” Draco interrupted. “It's not a pleasant story.”
He paused, leaning forward. “Harry, you grew up in a Muggle house, yes?”
Harry nodded.
“Then there are many things you need to learn about our society,” Draco said. “For your own good.”
“How did you end up with Muggles?” Pansy asked. “The Potters are an ancient wizarding family.”
Harry shrugged. “After my parents died, I was sent there. I don't think they gave my aunt and uncle any explanation. They just left me on their doorstep as a baby, with a note.”
Draco and Pansy exchanged a glance.
“That is… most irregular,” Draco said.
“Is it? But I have no other family,” Harry said. He thought it was logical. Not that he had any reason to complain. After all, the Dursleys were a loving family. Much better than what he had in his previous life.
“There should have been some distant relatives on the magical side,” Pansy said.
“And even if there weren't,” Draco added, “an heir of an ancient magical house would never be sent to live with Muggle relatives. Worst case, the Ministry would have appointed a guardian to take care of you and your family assets until you came of age. That is… strange. Who could have sent you there?”
Harry knew the answer. He was certain it had been Albus Dumbledore. But something told him not to reveal that piece of information just yet.
“I don't know,” he said. But inside, he was wondering about Dumbledore's motivations for keeping him away from the magical world and for refusing to give him a proper guardian.
Was it simply to steal from his family vault? Or was there something else the Headmaster wanted from him?...perhaps an even more nefarious purpose hidden behind his actions?
<><><><><><><><>
The train rattled on through the afternoon, the sky outside growing darker as clouds gathered over the mountains.
Harry stared out the window, the questions spinning in his mind.
Draco produced a pack of cards and taught him a wizarding game called Exploding Snap, which was considerably more dangerous than it sounded.
Crabbe won three rounds in a row without saying a word, which Pansy claimed was “typical." And for a short while, the tension in Harry's shoulders eased.
But as the sun began to set, painting the sky in different shades of purple, a new kind of tension filled the compartment.
The train was slowing.
“We're almost there,” Draco said quietly, tucking the cards away.
Harry looked out the window. In the distance, through the gathering dusk, he could see towers and turrets silhouetted against the fading light.
Hogwarts was right ahead.
His stomach clenched as he forced himself to maintain his composure. He pulled his school robes and placed them over his clothes.
The train ground to a halt beside a dark, tiny platform.
A voice boomed through the twilight:
“Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!”
Harry rose, adjusted his robes, grabbed hold of his belongings, and followed Draco and Pansy out of the compartment.
Whatever waited for him at the castle: the Weasleys, Dumbledore, the trials ahead...he would face it.
He had no other choice.
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