"It's the questions we can't answer that teach us the most. They teach us how to think. If you give a man an answer, all he gains is a little fact. But give him a question and he'll look for his own answers."
Patrick Rothfuss, The Wise Man's Fear

"May I sit down?"

Draco Malfoy was an eleven-year old boy with a pointed face, grey eyes and white blonde hair meticulously fixed with hair gel. That was the day he had looked forward the most during his life: he was finally headed to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Well, he was a wizard and he had known that long before he could walk and talk. His family, especially Lucius, his Father, had almost engraved inside his brains that wizard blood ran inside his veins, and Draco's first accidental bouts of magic had been neither a reason for surprise nor celebration. To Lucius, Draco had done nothing more than what was expected of him; he was just taking what was rightly his, doing what he was supposed to. Now, however, he was finally free of those leashes and was headed to the one place where he would finally become the powerful wizard he longed to be.

"Of course, make yourself comfortable."

Hermione Granger was also eleven years old, though about to turn twelve in a matter of days. She was a skinny, amber-eyed girl with a mane of thick, bushy brown hair. That was the day she had looked forward the most during her life, even though she had found out that she was a witch just some weeks ago. From a very young age, Hermione had had accidental bouts of magic in school or back home, which had always caused her parents to be so incredibly concerned about her. They were never sure how to handle their daughter, although they knew deep down that she was a special, brilliant little girl. However, when Professor Minerva McGonagall had visited them during the summer and brought news that she was a witch with a secured place in a school full of witches and wizards just like her, Hermione had felt lighter than ever. She was not alone. Now, however, she felt no fear nor loneliness and was headed to the one place where she could finally learn all about magic and have friends for a change.

"I'm Draco," the pale boy said, extending his hand politely just like his Mother, Narcissa, had taught him.

"I'm Hermione," the girl replied with a small smile, shaking his hand.

The two sat in a comfortable silence, which was occasionally interrupted by Hermione turning the pages of the book she was reading furiously. Draco was watching her with mild interest out of the corner of his grey eyes; he had never seen her in the parties thrown by his parents or at the Diagon Alley. However, what caught his attention the most was the attention that Hermione seemed to pay to the book – Hogwarts, a History –, a book that he had read at least thrice the year before.

"What's so interesting about this book?" he asked with a blank expression, keeping to himself his curiosity about her demeanor.

"Well, I've already read it, twice this past week," she replied with a seemingly smug tone, but then she raised her amber eyes and Draco realized that she seemed actually scared. Her hands were gripping tight at the book. "I just want to make sure that I know all about the castle and don't screw up…"

"I'd recommend you to read all about Slytherin, then," he offered with a nonchalant grin, hoping to sooth her anxiety.

"I don't know which House I'll be sorted into, but I suppose it doesn't really matter," she muttered, biting her lips and gazing fixedly at the boy, who was looking at her with a puzzled expression. "I guess I'm just happy to be here."

"If you happen to be sorted into Hufflepuff, it will make a difference. Only morons are sorted there," he mocked, clicking his tongue. Hermione rolled her eyes at that comment. Then, he tilted his head pensively to the side and examined her face before adding "But you do have brains, so I wouldn't worry about that."

"Ravenclaw seems good enough," she shrugged and closed the book with a thud, eager to change subjects. Deep down, she was secretly wondering whether she would be sorted nowhere at all and that they had mistaken her signs of magic. "Do you happen to know any spells?"

Draco grinned once more proudly and Hermione held her breath, watching him wide-eyed and still biting her lips in anticipation. The blonde boy noticed that her front teeth were slightly large and her cheeks were flushed. She was so weird, but he did not mind her. Not at all, actually. Coughing for the sake of adding some drama, he held his wand elegantly and cried: "Wingardium Leviosa! The book atop Hermione's lap immediately floated mid-air for a couple of seconds before dropping back again with a thud. Draco looked flustered, his cheeks reddening and his shoulders dropping in disappointment.

"That was amazing!" she exclaimed, beaming at him. Draco glanced at her sideways, fists clenched as he wondered if she was mocking him, but her smile seemed sincere enough. "Don't worry! I'm not much better than you at that!"

"So you do know spells?" he raised his eyebrows, watching her intently. That cunning girl was just fishing! He felt his respect for her grow and another grin escaped his thin lips.

Hermione gave him a naughty smirk and then exclaimed "Wingardium Leviosa!"

The book floated for a second longer and then dropped too. Draco reciprocated her smirk timidly and nodded in agreement.

"I suppose we will be both top of our class."

Hermione's fear that she was not going to be sorted anywhere vanished at once.

They stood in a comfortable silence for the remainder of the trip to Hogwarts, exchanging some words every once in a while about some passages of Hogwarts, a History, which Hermione had resumed reading as fervently as before. Draco had offered her some sweets, but she had politely declined his offer and muttered under her breath that her parents were not very fond of sugar. Draco had merely shrugged and resumed watching the mountains and the blue sky outside the Hogwarts Express. The boy had his face almost glued at the window as he realized that soon enough he would be likely flying on a broom and playing Quidditch for real. That thought made him think of his friend Theo, with whom he had argued about Quidditch just before Hermione had stepped into that empty compartment. Merlin, hopefully he would get along with Hermione. Theo was nice enough, but he could be a prat when he wanted to.

The beautiful scenery kept changing as the day went by and suddenly the sky was very dark and his stomach was giving somersaults at the prospect of finally stepping into the castle. This is it, he thought with excitement. They changed quietly into their school robes and Draco noticed that Hermione was not doing anything to hide her anxiety. Her hair looked wild and messy and her cheeks were so red that he could not help but watch her with some amusement as she talked to herself and pressed nonexistent wrinkles in her dark robes.

"There's nothing to worry about," he told her with a sincere smile.

"Are you sure, Draco?" she asked with a frown, swallowing hard.

"You'll do just fine, Hermione."

Somehow, Hermione managed to smile at him too after a deep breath, feeling a bit better at his encouragement. She decided she rather liked this Draco boy and hoped she was not sorted into Hufflepuff. Though she was sure Hufflepuff House was decent enough, she most certainly did not want Draco to think that she was a moron and stopped being friends with her. Because they were friends, weren't they?

"Hermione, you never told me what your parents do for a living," he asked with wide eyes and a startled voice, chastising himself mentally for his lack of manners.

"They are dentists," she responded absentmindedly while pulling her trunk.

"What?" he enquired, brows furrowed in obvious confusion.

"Oh! I forgot that muggle occupations are different!" she rolled her eyes at her stupidity, slapping her forehead. "My parents are muggle dentists, they tend to people's teeth!"

Draco was suddenly falling into an infinite abyss.