A Turn of Perspective
Chapter One: Budding Enemies
There was someone in his compartment. As the train rattled down the track, the door flicked open sharply and a bushy-haired, buck-toothed girl rushed in, her chest puffing with importance.
"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one." She asked, eyeing the compact room as if they were hiding a toad beneath their cloaks. Annoyed by the intrusion, Draco looked her up and down to confirm his suspicions. Waving her question away with a small hand movement, Draco sneered at the intruder.
"You know, when a door is closed, it usually means 'Don't come in'" he mocked, standing up and closing the gap between him and the girl. Crabbe and Goyle snickered behind him, creeping closer to back their buddy up and make him seem more impressive.
"I-I, a toad is missing and I-" the girl stuttered, backing away but trying to maintain her authoritative stance. Grabbing a strand of the girl's brown bushy hair, Draco silenced her and pushed her the last step so that her back was against the door.
"First year, I can tell. Not a pureblood, of course. Name?" Draco loved the feeling of being in control with other people, and if that made him a bully, so be it. Father always said that there were two types of people, those who have power, and those to weak to seek it. Finally, the girl straightened her back and the quaver in her voice stopped.
"I'm Hermione Granger. And you are?" she sniffed, for the first time taking in her surroundings properly and the company she was with. Crabbe and Goyle leered at her when she looked at them, and she wrinkled her nose. Then she saw the look on her bully's face and an icicle of dread grew in her stomach.
"I'm your superior in every way, mudblood. My name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, and I expect a filthy muggle like you to show me more respect the next time we cross paths." Draco spat every syllable, each word dripping with scorn. Looking Hermione up and down, Draco quickly raised his hand, making the disgusting muggle flinch, but he reached past her and pushed the compartment door all the way open. Hermione stumbled back and flattened herself against the wall, but quickly regained her composure and smoothed her hair. Giving a haughty look at Draco and pinching her mouth into a purse, she scurried down the train's hall, muttering "rude, rude rude!"
The rest of the way to Hogwarts, Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle laughed about the terrified expression on the mudblood's face when Draco opened the door and she fell out.
"Bet she'll be Ravenclaw, the stuck-up brat." Draco moaned, clutching his sides after a particularly good reenactment Goyle had done of Hermione's shell-shocked expression.
"Not Slytherin" Crabbe grunted in agreement, tilting his head to look at the other two. Draco sat up straight and leaned over the edge of his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. His short, platinum hair glittered when the light from the window reached it, almost making it look as though he was wearing a halo.
"I better see you both in Slytherin or else my father will here about it. Merlin knows I would kill myself if I were put in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, the sods. No way any of us will be put in Gryffindor. I'll make sure of that." Draco said, looking at both Crabbe and Goyle very hard.
Goyle started to open his mouth, but Draco knew his lackey's nerves had been getting to himand was tired of hearing about it, so Draco silenced him with a glare.
"Shut up, Goyle, I know what I'm talking about. There is no way any of us will be anywhere but Slytherin. Plus, my father said that the Sorting Hat will listen to you if you're confident enough."
"So?" Goyle asked, causing Draco to sigh.
"So, you big prat, it means that tell the Sorting Hat you want to be in Slytherin or else." Draco snickered, knocking his fist lightly on Goyle's head. "Honestly, I can never tell if you've got anything up in that great head of yours or not."
Just then, an older boy in black robes and a green-and-silver tie opened the door and popped his head in.
"You'd better get all packed up and put on your wizard hats, we'll be pulling into the station in under half an hour, I expect." The boy directed, flashing his Prefect badge to declare his importance and authority. There was a lot of commotion outside their compartment, people were filling the halls and loudly chattering to one another. Draco caught snatches of the conversations, words like "first year," "Hogwarts," and "Harry Potter." The Prefect had already bounded up to the next compartment, and so Draco closed the door and smiled wickedly at his companions.
"I think," Draco began slowly, "that it's time we pay a visit to our fellow first year, Mr. Potter."
Draco sauntered down the hall, using Crabbe and Goyle to make people move out of their way. When they reached the compartment, the mudblood 'Hermione, I think it was' scampered past them, pausing only slightly to give them a nasty look. Rolling his eyes at her, Draco stopped in front of Harry's compartment and winked at Crabbe and Goyle. Draco was surprised to see the skinny, ragged boy he had met at Madame Malkin's Robe Shop when he slid open the door. He now looked at Harry much more closely and with heavy interest, because
"He doesn't look like a powerful wizard." Goyle whispered, taking the words right out of Draco's mind.
"Shut up, Goyle" Draco whispered back, elbowing him with the sharp point of his arm.
"Is it true?" Draco said, "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?" The two boys in the compartment stared at them with blank expressions, and Draco was starting to think that they were as thick as Crabbe and Goyle when the scraggly boy spoke.
"Yes," the boy, Harry, spoke. Draco noticed, annoyed, that Harry was staring at Crabbe and Goyle with a strange expression on his face.
"Oh, this is Crabbe, and Goyle," he said, nonchalantly waving his hand and gesturing at his cohorts, "And my name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."
The red-haired kid gave a shaky cough, which was certainly trying to mask a snigger, and so Draco, full of contempt at being laughed at, turned to look at him. Tall, red-haired, freckled, shoddy clothes, he was a muggle-loving Weasley, no doubt. Fixing him with his best icy stare, Draco upturned his mouth into his trademark sneer.
"Think my name is funny, do you? No need to ask whom you are. My father told me all the Weasley have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." That put the git in his place. The Weasley blushed and then went a violent white color, like he was going to pass out. Draco smiled a sickly sweet smile, and then turned to Harry.
"You'll soon find out that 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 said, extending his hand to Harry. He had a triumphant smile on his face, and his hair was giving off the angelic-like halo once again. Draco was imagining having Harry Potter, of all people, join his ranks. They'd rule Slytherin, that's for sure. He, Crabbe, and Goyle all looked expectantly at Harry, waiting for him to take Draco's hand, but Harry never did. Instead, he turned his body slightly towards the Weasley boy.
"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks." Potter said coolly, his eyes slightly narrowed. Draco let his hand hang there for a moment and felt his cheeks beginning to color.
"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," Draco said slowly, all traces of friendly familiarity gone. "Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you." His eyes narrowed and his breathing became fast. He was delivering mostly empty threats, but that didn't stop him from wanting to embarrass and hurt Potter. Both Potter and the Weasley kid jumped up quickly, knocking the candy they had strewn about them to the floor of the compartment.
"Say that again," said the Weasley boy, his face as red as a tomato, and his hands curling into fists. Draco knew that, if a fight was coming, that he would win with both Crabbe and Goyle backing him up.
"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" he sneered, leaning slightly into Crabbe and Goyle. Potter wavered a second.
"Unless you get out now," he said finally, and Draco was taken aback by how determined Potter sounded. But he knew that Crabbe and Goyle were bigger and stronger, and he had been insulted, so he decided to mess with Potter a bit more. Looking around the compartment, he realized that there was an enormous quantity of candy and sweets next to the two boys.
"But we don't feel like leaving, do we, boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some." Draco said, nodding his head towards Goyle, who proceeded to lurch forward at the stash of Chocolate Frogs. The Weasley kid, who was braver than Draco has given him credit for, leapt towards Goyle, but before he could reach him, Goyle let out a yelp of pain. A rat was dangling off the end of Goyle's finger and blood was dripping down to his knuckles. The five boys scrambled for a bit, in shock over the turn of events, and Goyle managed to throw the rat from his finger. The creature hit the window with a sickening smack, and fell to the ground. They all watched as it scurried under one of the seats. As Potter and Weasley watched the ground for the rat, Draco grabbed his friend's robes and shoved them out of the compartment, slamming the door behind him. The three boys stood wide-eyed, until a huffy noise made them jump. It was that annoying Hermione, standing behind them with her hands on her hips. With a condescending look in her direction, Draco pushed Crabbe and Goyle towards the back of the train, and into their compartment.
"What a thick sod." Draco said, once they had reached the safety of their own small room. "He'll be sorry he messed with me." Crabbe and Goyle reassuringly cracked their knuckles. They sat in a stewed silence for a couple of minutes and then the Prefect from before came back to announce that they were pulling into Hogwarts station. Draco stood first and smoothed his robes.
"Well, Crabbe, Goyle. Let's go get Sorted."
