A/N: This is taking the other path in a fork in the road in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone (Philosopher's Stone if that's what you fancy). It is all the same until chapter six, entitled The Journey from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Page 108 if you're reading the American version. To any avid Harry Potter fans, or really any at all, I think you'll catch on. (I've included a few paragraphs involving where this story breaks off from Rowling's version.)
Credits to the brilliant J.K. Rowling for thinking up the world of Harry Potter. Wish she'd come up with book 5 already. Anyway, thanks, Mademoiselle (actually it's Madame now, isn't it?) Rowling.
Like stated above, portions of this have been directly copied from J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.
And I am typing up the next chapter as we speak.
And so it begins...
Chapter Six: The Journey from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters
Three boys entered, and Harry recognized the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley.
"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"
"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like body guards.
"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."
Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.
"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."
He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
He held out his hand to shake Harry's. Harry reluctantly looked from Malfoy to Ron and back again. All he'd heard about Slytherin came from the mouths of those who had been in rival houses, hadn't it? Slytherin couldn't really be all bad, could it? All of those in it weren't completely awful, were they?
Harry gulped and stared at Malfoy's hand. It was quite clear to him that he could either have Malfoy or Ron; Slytherin or Gryffindor. But what to pick?
An eternity later he held out his hand and shook Malfoy's, giving Ron a look saying, "I'm sorry. Really, I am. I wish you understood."
It made Harry feel infinitely worse as Ron picked up Scabbers, shoved him in his pocket, and walked quietly toward the compartment door, shutting it rather more fiercely than was necessary. Harry looked back at Malfoy, who had just turned his head from the door, a clearly visible smirk on his face.
"The first lesson you should learn, Potter," said Malfoy as he sifted through Harry's enormous pile of sweets, helping himself, "is to NEVER associate with a Weasley. I don't know what misfortune occurred for you to even have the bad luck of meeting one, but try not to let it happen again, right?"
Harry nodded, making a mental note to himself. So long as he'd picked Malfoy, he may as well listen to his advice. "Anyone else to avoid?"
"Really, try avoiding Gryffindors altogether. Such a disgrace to the wizarding community. And Hufflepuffs, they're quite dense--the whole lot of them. It would also do you good to stay away from any Mudbloods, too."
"Mudbloods?" asked Harry, frowning at his lack of knowledge.
Malfoy, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind. Apparently he had grown quite used to explaining things to the ever slow posse of his, Crabbe and Goyle. "You know... Muggle-borns." He grinned. "It's a shorthand term, you see."
Credits to the brilliant J.K. Rowling for thinking up the world of Harry Potter. Wish she'd come up with book 5 already. Anyway, thanks, Mademoiselle (actually it's Madame now, isn't it?) Rowling.
Like stated above, portions of this have been directly copied from J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone.
And I am typing up the next chapter as we speak.
And so it begins...
Chapter Six: The Journey from Platform Nine and Three-Quarters
Three boys entered, and Harry recognized the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking at Harry with a lot more interest than he'd shown back in Diagon Alley.
"Is it true?" he said. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"
"Yes," said Harry. He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean. Standing on either side of the pale boy, they looked like body guards.
"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the pale boy carelessly, noticing where Harry was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."
Ron gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.
"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."
He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
He held out his hand to shake Harry's. Harry reluctantly looked from Malfoy to Ron and back again. All he'd heard about Slytherin came from the mouths of those who had been in rival houses, hadn't it? Slytherin couldn't really be all bad, could it? All of those in it weren't completely awful, were they?
Harry gulped and stared at Malfoy's hand. It was quite clear to him that he could either have Malfoy or Ron; Slytherin or Gryffindor. But what to pick?
An eternity later he held out his hand and shook Malfoy's, giving Ron a look saying, "I'm sorry. Really, I am. I wish you understood."
It made Harry feel infinitely worse as Ron picked up Scabbers, shoved him in his pocket, and walked quietly toward the compartment door, shutting it rather more fiercely than was necessary. Harry looked back at Malfoy, who had just turned his head from the door, a clearly visible smirk on his face.
"The first lesson you should learn, Potter," said Malfoy as he sifted through Harry's enormous pile of sweets, helping himself, "is to NEVER associate with a Weasley. I don't know what misfortune occurred for you to even have the bad luck of meeting one, but try not to let it happen again, right?"
Harry nodded, making a mental note to himself. So long as he'd picked Malfoy, he may as well listen to his advice. "Anyone else to avoid?"
"Really, try avoiding Gryffindors altogether. Such a disgrace to the wizarding community. And Hufflepuffs, they're quite dense--the whole lot of them. It would also do you good to stay away from any Mudbloods, too."
"Mudbloods?" asked Harry, frowning at his lack of knowledge.
Malfoy, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind. Apparently he had grown quite used to explaining things to the ever slow posse of his, Crabbe and Goyle. "You know... Muggle-borns." He grinned. "It's a shorthand term, you see."