A/N: I'm not going to copy and paste the canon-ical parts. All conversations will be original, even if the general theme is the same as in the books. Reason? I kinda lost my books.
Chapter 2:
Maths was hard. I scratched my head in puzzlement. Now, was I supposed to go to Platform Nine-and-Two-Thirds? Or was it Nine-and-Four-Fifths? I hadn't used the train in a while, and I'd certainly never gone to Hogwarts via the Hogwarts Express before.
I'd wanted to go there the old fashion way at first: Arriving in a bolt of lightning.
"Firstly, that was never the old fashioned way, I have no idea where you got that from." Naturally, Nicholas had been a major spoilsport. "Secondly, the old fashion way was via foot, broom, or magical creature, none of which will get you there in time."
"I could Apparate," I had suggested.
"Yes," Nicholas had said in the most sarcastic way possible, "and raise hundreds of alarm bells when people see a First Year Apparating. And if you're stupid enough to shatter the Hogwarts wards in the process, you'd have a squad of Aurors on your tail in an instant."
"What if I Apparate, and then Obliviated everyone? Then I-"
"For once in your life, Merlin. Can you please try to pretend to be normal and just take the train like everybody else?"
And so, after hearing his logical explanation, I decided, after thorough consideration, to follow Nicholas' advice and give this 'Hogwarts Express' a try. Like every other boring and mundane magical student there was.
Unfortunately, Nicholas had been in such a rush to abandon me at King's Cross Station that he never actually told me where to go from here. Which led to the very embarrassing conclusion that I was now lost.
Hmmm, Platform Seven and a Half goes to Europe, doesn't it? I tried to recall. I didn't go on the train very often. It was often far too slow. But that didn't mean I was completely clueless. And Platform Eight and Three-Sevenths goes to the Centre of the Earth, doesn't it? Or was that Platform Twelve and Two-Ninths?
This was hopeless. Maybe I should seek help. There had to be other people going to Hogwarts, I just needed to follow them. I surveyed the throngs of people that crowded the station.
Now... I just needed to separate the Magicals from the Muggles. Easier said than done, I sighed. There were too many people, and ever since the Salem Witch Trials, Magicals had taken special effort to avoid the attention of Muggles, blending in and-
Never mind, found them.
It really looked as if they weren't even trying. A whole gaggle of redheads, many of whom were pushing trolleys of crates and luggage. There was even an owl thrown in - a beautiful white Snowy Owl. Way to go guys, I mentally cheered, you've definitely managed to avoid the eye of every Muggle here. I looked around, wanting to see the many strange looks they would be getting.
Surprisingly, there were none. That was definitely odd. I took a closer look at them. Then I saw the thin layer of magic coating them. Ah, a weak glamour charm. Perhaps they aren't a whole bunch of idiots, I realised when they had at least taken some precaution. It was very weak, and anyone that had the potential to cast magic, even a Squib, would have been able to see through it. Meaning, it was catered entirely to fooling only Muggles. If their assortment of baggage wasn't enough proof, now I knew for certain that they were Magicals.
One by now, I watched them rush headlong into the narrow brick wall separating platforms Nine and Ten. Ah, it's Platform Nine and Three Quarters! How could I have forgotten? The last to go was the only black-haired boy in the family. He seemed nervous, and the large lady who could only have been the mother gently coaxed him into dashing headfirst into the wall. Well, we know who the adopted one is now.
It was terrible of me, but at the last moment I prayed for a magical malfunction which would have sealed off the entrance. It would have been a hilarious sight, and would probably traumatise the boy for life. He'd probably never trust the mother again. When alas, he made it through without a hitch, I took a deep breath and walked towards them.
"Excuse me," I said, putting on my best eleven-year-old-boy voice, "but is this way the way to Hogwarts?" I asked.
The woman looked down in surprise, and I noticed her staring at my hair momentarily before she smiled at me. "Oh, hello there!" she said cheerfully. Her daughter, who probably hadn't enrolled yet, immediately went to hide behind her. "Are you a First Year too?"
"Yes," I nodded enthusiastically. "My parents couldn't make it today," I pretended to sound sad. "So I'm not very sure what to do."
"Another one? I just helped another boy just like you!" she exclaimed. Another boy? So perhaps that black-haired boy hadn't actually been part of the family. "Oh well, darling. All you have to do," she pointed towards the brick wall her children had run through, "is to go through that wall, thinking 'Platform Nine and Three Quarters', okay?"
"Alright, sounds easy," I said, and began to walk towards it.
"Maybe you should try running towards it," she advised. "It helps with the focus."
"I think I'll be fine," I turned back to wave at her, back-pedaling with my legs as I did so. "Thank you for all the help, Madam!"
Her face scrunched up, as if she realized something was amiss. "Wait!" she yelled out. I put my hand on the wall. Solid brick, like I had imagined. But as sensitive to magic as I was, I could feel the life hiding behind it. "Where's your luggage?"
I smiled at her. "Haven't got any, Madam."
Platform Nine and Three Quarters, I thought, and before she could respond, I pushed myself into the wall.
Children, I groaned. Everywhere I looked, every direction I turned, every voice I heard. It was all squeaky little midgets. Except, now I was one of those squeaky midgets.
The train was already pulled up next to the platform. It was an old steam locomotive, outdated by modern standards, but I was pretty sure whatever enchantments had been placed on it made it no less inferior. There were so many carriages. Which one did I board? Or were they split by year? The first carriage was clearly for Prefects only, if the sign outside its entrance was anything to go by.
Maybe I should go on that one. I was once a Prefect at Hogwarts. I think. It was so long ago, how could I even remember? The shiny badge did look nice though. Maybe I could steal one, and impersonate a prefect. Even better, I could conjure one and-
-Merlin, just try to be normal, please. Don't do anything stupid that might raise too much attention. Nicholas wasn't even around anymore, but his pesky little voice was still in my mind, ruining all my fun.
I let out a puff of misty air. It was kind of cold. It was September already, wasn't it? Almost winter. I should have brought more clothes. Then I spied a familiar mop of red hair climbing onto one of the carriages.
I followed him once, might as well follow him a second time, I figured. Their family seemed like a helpful lot. Maybe he knew how to be a Prefect.
Once I boarded the train, I proceeded to stick my head into every cabin until I found somebody with that distinctive red hair. Imagine my surprise when I found two of them, looking exactly like one another. And imagine their surprise when a confused-looking white-haired boy poked their head into their cabin while they were snogging with the girls sitting next to them.
"Hullo," one of them said awkwardly. "Can we help you?"
"You should say no to that," the other one grinned. "We're kind of in the middle of something here."
"Which you would have known if you'd seen the 'Privacy Please' sign on our door," the first one continued.
I had seen it. I just didn't care. I mean honestly, if they really wanted not to be disturbed, they should have at least locked the door or charmed it or something. A simple sign was hardly enough the stop me, the Great Merlin, Wizard Extraordinaire, from doing as I pleased.
"I'm looking for a boy," I said. "Looks kinda like you guys, same hair, but shorter?"
"You mean Li'l Ronniekins?" one of them asked.
I shrugged. I had no idea what a Ronniekins was.
"Eight doors down, cabin to your left," the other supplied helpfully, before locking lips with the girl next to him. Well, if that wasn't a signal that the conversation was over, I didn't know what was.
"Thanks," I said, not that they heard me over the sound of the giggling girls.
When I closed the door, this time I put a few locking and noise-muffling charms on it. Well done, boys, I silently congratulated them. They clearly had important things to do, and I was always one to help a fellow man. Now nobody could disturb them.
After walking past eight doors, I turned to the left. There was no privacy sign on this door, but I knocked to be safe. Who knows? Maybe smoothness ran in this red-haired family. "Come in," somebody said.
I swung the door open. To my dismay, there were no girls inside. At least the redheaded boy was inside, as well as the black-haired one who had been with his family.
"Can I sit here?" I asked, sitting down before they could even say anything.
"Uh, sure," Mister Glasses replied.
"I'm Ronald Weasley," the redhead said. "But most people just call me Ron."
"Harry," the bespectacled boy said, "Harry Potter."
I blinked. Now why did that sound familiar?
"Oh!" I immediately remembered. "Do you know a Howard Peter?"
He shirked back. Then very uncertainly, he said, "no?"
"Dang," I cursed. "I wanted to meet the Boy-Who-Lived."
Harry blinked. There was a sputtering sound from Ron.
"That's him!" Ron pointed at Harry. "He's the Boy-Who-Lived!"
I looked back at Harry. "You're the Boy-Who-Lived?" I asked.
He nodded. "I think so. That's what everybody says, at least."
"So you are Howard Peter!" I exclaimed. "Why did you lie about your name?"
"I didn't," he looked confused. "My name is Harry Potter."
"Harhar, very funny guys," I shook my head. "That was a good prank, I'll admit."
"What are you talking about?" Ron seemed to be losing it. "Show him the scar, Harry!"
Carefully, Harry brought a hand up to pull back his fringe. And there, hidden on his forehead, was a very familiar-looking lightning-shaped scar. The slight hum of magic that came from within could only confirm its authenticity.
Well, would you look at that. The redheads really are good luck, aren't they?
But now I was only more confused. "So you're Harry Potter," I said to Harry. He nodded. Then I turned to Ron. "And Harry Potter is the Boy-Who-Lived." This time they both nodded. Which just left one very important question... "So who's Howard Peter?"
"So what you're telling me is," I said slowly to Harry and Ron, trying to absorb all the information that they'd dumped on me. "This Howard Peter person doesn't exist."
"YES!" Ron cheered, "THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT WE'VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU."
"That can't be right," I frowned. "He was on the newspaper."
"That was all Harry!" Ron pointed at Harry. "It's Harry that defeated," then he whispered very softly, "You-Know-Who."
I blinked. "No, I don't know who."
"You know," Ron leaned forwards, cupping his mouth. "The Dark Lord. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
I knew many Dark Lords, many of whom were defeated by me. But all of them had names. I shook my head. "Nope. No idea who you are talking about." How was I supposed to know which Dark Lord he was talking about if there wasn't a name?
Harry sighed. "I think he means-"
"No, don't say it!" Ron raced to cover Harry's mouth. "If you say Voldemort's name, he'll haunt you in your nightmares!"
Oh Voldemort. That little upstart. Hmph, I wouldn't really have classified him as a Dark Lord. Maybe a Dark Squire? Wait, hadn't Ron just said Voldemort's name?
Harry blinked, his mouth still beneath Ron's palm.
I looked at Ron, who still had a very stern expression on his face. How could somebody so dense exist?
Then finally, Ron seemed to realise the act of hypocrisy he'd committed. "Oh no," he said very softly, and he collapsed back to his seat, bringing his hands to cup his head. Honestly, he'd only said a name, it wasn't as if he'd committed a grave sin. "I've said it," Ron said. "It's over."
"It's alright Ron," Harry said comfortingly, "I mean he's dead right?"
I raised an eyebrow. The piece of Dark Magic on your forehead begs to differ. Still, I couldn't be sure it was a Horcrux buried in the scar until I actually got a closer look.
"It's Dark Magic, Harry. You wouldn't understand. Magic can survive its caster's death. You-Know-Who is going to find me, and I'm going to die!" Ron yelled out, his face paling as he began to panic.
"You know," I pointed out. "You've already said his name once. There's really no harm in you just using it from now on. What's he going to do, kill you twice?"
Ron glared at me. "This isn't funny."
"It's funny to me," I smiled.
"It won't be funny to you when You-Know-Who breaks through that door and kills us all."
"It's just a fairytale," I said in exasperation. Honestly, he was an eleven-year-old boy. Did he still think there were monsters hiding under his bed? Well actually, there were, but I hadn't found out about that until I was three hundred years old. "And besides," I said, trying to lighten the mood, "He may be a Dark Lord, but he's not a barbarian. He'll knock first."
Harry grinned. Even Ron seemed more relaxed at my joke.
'Thunk Thunk'
Until someone actually knocked on the door.
No way. It was a joke. The Dark Lord wouldn't actually knock, would he? Oh boy, I think I jinxed us all.
"IT'S HIM! HE'S COME FOR US! WE'RE ALL GOING TO DIE!" Ron screamed and ducked to cower in fear underneath the table.
"No," Harry said, his quivering tone betraying the fear he was experiencing, "You said his name. He's come for you. So only you are going to die."
"You were the one to defeat him, Harry!" Ron said, "obviously he'll want his revenge, right?!"
"Oh." Judging by that, Harry really hadn't thought his earlier words through. Moments later, he was hiding with Ron underneath the table. "Maybe if we don't answer, he'll just go away." Kids, I thought. It's like they've never even met a Dark Lord before. Didn't one of those brats defeat one when he was just a few weeks old?
Through the translucent glass of the door, I could see someone standing outside, waiting. Whoever it was, they weren't tall enough to be a Dark Lord. Who'd ever met a short Dark Lord before? Certainly not me.
"Hello?" the voice from the other side was clearly female, and she sounded quite uncertain of herself. "Is there space for one more in there?" she asked.
"Oh, it's a girl!" Ron heaved a sigh of relief, as the two of them climbed out and returned to their seats. "We're safe!"
I clicked my tongue disapprovingly. "Girls can be Dark Lords too, you know? Or Dark Ladies. Or Dark Witches, whatever they are called." My first Arch-nemesis, Morgana Le Fay, came to mind. Now that had been a fun battle.
"Yea, but as long as the Dark Lord isn't You-Know-Who, it's all good!" Ron said happily. What in the world was he talking about? There were no 'good' Dark Lords. Otherwise they'd just be called Lords and... people used to call me Lord Merlin back in the day, hadn't they? Hmmm... maybe there were good Dark Lords.
"I can hear you guys talking in there," the girl said, clearly tired of waiting. "Can you just let me know if there is a seat or not?"
"Are you a Dark Lord?" I asked through the door. You know, just to be safe.
"NO!"
I paused. "That's exactly what a Dark Lord would say if they were trying to sneak in and kill us all." Actually, it wasn't. Dark Lords were a prideful breed, and announcing their intentions and identity was something they all seemed to be fond of.
There was only stunned silence on the other end.
"My name is Hermione Granger. I'm eleven years old and a First Year at Hogwarts. Please, can you let me in? I just really want to sit down."
She sounded so pitiful that I would have opened the door for her anyway, Dark Lord or not. Still... Eleven was kind of young, she was basically still a child. Why couldn't she be seventeen? That was the oldest in Hogwarts, right?
A bushy-haired girl marched her way in. She immediately plopped the big book she was carrying on the table before sitting down on the last remaining seat. As if on cue, there was loud train whistle, and the whole carriage shuddered as the magical engines roared to life.
"About time," Ron said as the Hogwarts express finally began to chug its way forwards. "It feels like it's been forever!"
"Are you all First Years too?" the Hermione girl asked.
"Yep," we said together. She looked quite pleased.
"I'm Hermione Granger."
"We know," I said. "You said it just now while you were outside."
She suddenly looked very embarrassed. "Well, that wasn't a formal introduction."
"Just ignore him, he's been a minor pain in the bum ever since he came in," Ron said. How dare you, I thought, I'm anything but minor. "I'm Ron," continued the redhead, "nice to meet you."
"I'm Harry," Harry said.
Hermione immediately stood up. "Are you by any chance, Harry Potter?"
Oh, she knew him too? What a coincidence. It was like he was famous or something.
"Um, yes. That will be me."
"You're the Boy-who-lived!" she said, almost accusatory. "You defeated," her voice dropped to a low whisper, "You-know-who."
Oh come on. Don't tell me everybody believes in that nonsense.
"That's what everybody says," Harry laughed nervously. "But I really don't remember. I didn't even know magic was real until a few weeks ago. I live with my Muggle relatives."
"Really? Me too!" Hermione asked, more excited than ever. "Both my parents are Muggle," she explained.
A Muggleborn? Fascinating.
"Well then," Harry seemed relieved, "hopefully we can be lost together in lessons," he chuckled.
"Nope," Hermione shook her head, thinking that Harry was being serious instead of joking. "I've read all the books in advance to make sure that doesn't happen," then she showed us the book in front of her. Hogwarts: A History, the title read. "I can't let myself fall behind in lessons just because I was raised a Muggle."
Well, wasn't she prepared? I saw Ron shaking his head, mouthing the word 'Nerd' to himself. She probably was, but the best and brightest wizards and witches had always understood that knowledge was power. Including myself, of course. I always kept myself up to date with events of the world, Muggle or Magic. Why, just next week was the reveal of Victoria's Secret's Winter collection! What the seasons had to do with lingerie was something I didn't understand, but was most certainly eager to find out.
"So what's your name?" Hermione suddenly asked, looking straight at me.
"Yea," Ron realised, "you never did tell us. And you've been sitting with us for Merlin knows how long. Who are you?"
"I'm Merlin," I said casually.
"Har har," Ron rolled his eyes. "Like that'll work on us." Of course, I'd expected such a reaction. That was why I never bothered to change my name for the enrollment.
"Merlin died hundred of years ago," Hermione informed us, "he was born in the medieval ages."
"I'm not kidding," I said calmly. "My name is Merlin Pendragon."
"Stop pulling our legs," Ron scowled. "We told you our names, didn't we? And Harry's the Boy-Who-Lived!"
"Yes," agreed Hermione, "I find it highly unlikely that your name is Merlin, and that your family name is that of King Arthur's. If you don't want to tell us your real name, you can always just say so." She looked quite upset with me.
This was going to be fun, I knew for certain. I shrugged. "You can always find out during the Sorting," I said.
The very word 'Sorting' sent them into an excited fit, and they completely forgot about the topic of my name.
"I want to go to Gryffindor," Hermione declared proudly. "All the best Wizards and Witches go there." Um excuse me? Legendary alumnus of Slytherin right here Miss Granger, sitting right across you.
"That's right," Ron said, "my family's been Gryffindors for generations!"
"What... what's this Sorting and Gryffindor thing you're all talking about?" Harry asked, sounding completely lost. Poor boy, he probably didn't know a thing about the Magical Soceity.
"It's the Houses!" Ron exclaimed. "You don't know?"
Harry shook his head, and Hermione jumped at the opportunity to recite an obviously memorized paragraph detailing the social structure in Hogwarts. She wasn't a Gryffindor, I realised, she was a bloody Ravenclaw through and through!
"And that's how it all works," she concluded to a bewildered Harry.
"Mate," Ron clapped him on the back, "all you need to know is that Gryffindor's the best! Dumbledore's from Gryffindor!"
"Merlin's from Slytherin though," I calmly interjected. "And we all know that Merlin's the greatest wizard ever." I dare you guys to contradict me, I dare you. I was quite pleased when they didn't.
"Was he?" Hermione sounded intrigued. "I didn't know that!" Then from her robes she pulled out a notebook and began to jot things down.
"Well," Ron grumbled unhappily, "you know who else is from Slytherin? Grindelwald! You-Know-Who! All the Death Eaters! They're a rotten bunch nowadays!"
Were they now? Slytherin had been the most popular house back in my day. No other House Head taught their students curses. Hmm... maybe that was part of the problem.
Our little house debate was suddenly interrupted by a sharp rapping on the door.
To my disappointment, it wasn't a Dark Lord. It was, instead, a nice lady pushing a cart filled with confectionery and pastries.
"I, uh, haven't gone any money right now," Ron said shyly when she asked if we wanted to buy any.
Hermione shook her head correspondingly.
I had money. But I wasn't willing to spend it on sweets for a bunch of brats. So I just shrugged.
"I'll take a little bit of everything for everyone," Harry said when everybody ended up looking to him, much to Ron's delight. Lovely, the Boy-Who-Lived was also the Boy-Who-Gave. Another great reason to stick close to him.
Minutes later, we had a small mountain of candy on the table between us.
"This is great, mph!" Ron said while covering his mouth. There was something inside of it, and it looked like it was trying to escape, as bulges appeared in and out of his cheeks. "Thanks Harry!"
"What's that?" Hermione asked, pointing at the wrapper still in Ron's other hand.
"Chocolate Frogs." Ron bit down hard, and the movement in his mouth suddenly stopped. When he pulled his hand away from his mouth, a lone chocolate-y frog leg was hanging outside his lips, still twitching slightly before becoming completely still. That's awesome, I thought, immediately digging through the pile to find one of them. "You have to be careful when you're eating them, because they're charmed to escape. And look, they come with cards!" He held out a small rectangle, which showed a picture of a wizened old man wearing glasses.
Albus Dumbledore.
"Dang," Ron said, "I seem to always get Dumbledore."
At this point, Harry and I had both managed to find one. Hermione looked at us disgustingly, shaking her head. "How can you guys eat that? It looks so alive."
"It's chocolate," I said, tearing open the wrapper. "And chocolate is always nice."
Harry nodded in agreement. Unfortunately, that little slip in attention caused his frog to wriggle out of his fingers where it hopped out the window to freedom. "What a waste," he said.
Carefully, I stuffed my frog into my mouth. It tasted delicious. Nothing could go wrong with chocolate. Even if it was bouncing around in your mouth and trying to escape. I wanted to see how long the magic would last. Would the frog keep trying to escape even if its legs were melted off? Would the chocolate even melt in my mouth? Only one way to find out.
"What cards did you guys get?" Ron asked.
I looked at my own, and suppressed a chuckle.
Nicholas Flamel. Except it wasn't. They showed a wizened old man, dumping a bunch of weird materials into a cauldron. The Alchemist. The back had a short biography, noting his education in Beauxbatons and his invention of the Philospher's stone. Besides those two facts and the glasses, it was completely off. For one, Nicholas hadn't had white hair since he was two hundred years old. And nowadays, he looked like he was only forty. I kept the card in my pocket. I had to show this to Nicholas the first chance I got. He would throw a fit, and only because he'd never used a cauldron in any of his alchemy work before.
"I got Merlin," Harry said in surprise.
"I have a card?" I asked, covering my mouth so the frog couldn't hop out.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Obviously not you. The real Merlin." Hey, I was as real as I could get. She leaned over, wanting to get a better look. Harry saved us all the trouble and held it up to show us all.
"Look at that," Ron smirked, "Merlin's an old man!"
"We have the same hair," I pointed out.
"Yes," Hermione said sarcastically, "and you're also eight hundred years old."
"Eight hundred and thirty seven, actually," I corrected her.
Everybody rolled their eyes.
"Merlin," Harry said. When Ron and Hermione looked at him oddly, he shrugged, "it's not like I have anything else to call him by, right?"
"Yes?" I replied with a big smile, "and if calling me Merlin makes you uncomfortable, you can always call Handsome. Or Prince Charming. Or Mister Wizard Extraordinaire. I am fine with any of those nicknames."
"Merlin," Harry repeated firmly. Ah, it was worth a try. "Why is your hair all white, anyway?"
"Why is your hair brown?" I asked back.
Harry frowned. "I was born this way."
"Then so was I," I said.
"That can't be true," Hermione said with an I-know-more-than-you tone. "Nobody's born with white hair," she said confidently. Then she stopped and thought for a bit. "Except albinos, and you're definitely not albino. That's basic science! White hair comes from the degradation of melanin levels in our hair!"
"That's basic science," I mimicked in her annoying voice. "Would you believe me if I said that this," I pointed to my hair, "is magic?"
"That's ridiculous," Ron said. "There aren't any wizards or witches born with white hair either. What kind of magic gives you white hair?"
"Secret magic," I said, trying to be as mysterious as possible. I couldn't very well say Fairy Magic and reveal the Fae to ordinary students now, could I?
Predictably, they didn't believe me. "I can't wait for the professors to meet you," Ron sighed. "Then you'll have to stop bluffing us and tell us all your secrets."
Hermione and Harry nodded, looking at me with identical 'I'm-tired-of-your-nonsense' faces, something which Nicholas seemed to wear whenever I was around.
"I very much doubt that's ever going to happen," I said with a big grin.
At some point in the train ride, we fell into a comfortable silence. Or maybe we didn't. I wouldn't know because I went to sleep while Hermione was talking about uh... something. Something so boring that it banished me into dream land.
Then someone opened the door with all the gracefulness and gentleness of a dragon. Which meant to say he slammed it open, causing me to wake up quite abruptly.
"I heard that Harry Potter's in this cabin. Which one of you would that be?" a sharp, whiny, and arrogant voice said.
Blearily, I rubbed my eyes open. This dismissive and scathing tone... "Morgana?" I asked, still trying to wake up completely. "What are you doing here?"
"Who's Morgana?" the same voice asked. It was too high-pitched to be Morgana. No, it was a kid. His face was set in a sneer, and his combed-back hair was so blonde it nearly looked white. There were two people standing behind him, but the doorframe blocked out their faces. But they were big.
"Not you," I said. "Why'd you wake me up?"
He blinked in surprise. "You're Harry Potter?" he asked.
"No," I frowned. "I'm Merlin."
Suddenly the other three broke out into snickers when they saw his very confused face.
"Oh." The boy said in realisation. "A joke. That was a good one," he smirked. Then he stuck out a hand towards me. "I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy."
"Mhmm," I mumbled, still not entirely awake. When was the last time I actually slept? A month ago? "Nice meeting you, now bye bye." I shooed him away with my hand. Heavens, I was exhausted. This was why I didn't like sleeping, because I wouldn't feel awake until hours later.
"Wait!" Draco said, "I want to talk to you."
I clicked my tongue. "Well, I want to sleep."
"It's three in the afternoon," Draco frowned.
"Well it's midnight in Asia."
"You came from the colonies?" Draco asked in surprise.
What colonies? We still had those? I shook my head. "I'm from Britain. But Asians are very smart. So if they're sleeping now, that means I should be too."
"But-" with a wave of my hand, I sent a pulse of magic towards him, pushing him out and shutting the door.
"Next time," I said to him through the door.
There were several gasps that came from behind me.
Uh oh.
"Was that wandless and silent magic?" Hermione asked in disbelief.
I yawned. That hadn't been very smart on my part. But I was sleepy, and I still was sleepy. "Nuh uh," I yawned. "Secret Magic." Then I closed my eyes and rested my head against the corner again.
"How did you do that?" Hermione pressed on. Persistent, isn't she?
I shooed her away with my hand, saying to her what I'd said to Draco.
"Next time."
Just before I lost lucidity, a thought hit me.
Where did my Chocolate Frog go?
There was a sudden scream from Hermione. "GET IT OFF ME!"
Oh. I snuggled into my little corner even more.
Next time.
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