Harry Potter's eyes gravely turned toward the iron barrier in between
platforms nine and ten. What was he to do? Go through the barrier as the
red-headed woman had suggested? He sighed gently, pushing his trolley
forward and gradually lurching into a jog. He awaited a crash, anything,
but found himself not on the ground with his parcels shrewn around him, but
standing on a platform. Platform 9 3/4.
Around him, the sounds of many happy voices and the hooting of owls greeted him where he stood, blinking against the suddenly blaring sunlight. He sighed, brushing his hair from his eyes. A brown haired girl stood just ahead of him, talking rather quickly to her parents, who looked quite shaken. They must have been...ah...what was it that Hagrid had called them? Oh yes, muggles.
After securing his trunk in the baggage cart, Harry scaled the train steps, peering around in wonder. He followed the isle to the very last compartment, throwing himself down with a sigh. He was so engrossed in the scenes out the window, that he didn't notice that someone had entered his compartment.
An icy voice startled him siddenly, and Harry spun around to face the speaker. "Is this seat taken?" The person had said. It was a boy, about Harry's age, maybe younger, who stood before him. His hair was silver- blonde, and his eyes where a deep and menacing gray.
"No," Harry said quietly. "Go ahead," He motioned to the seat just across from him, and the boy sat down. He could feel those gray eyes boaring into him, and he turned back, finally, and snapped, "Can I help you with something?"
The boy simply shrugged. "My name is Draco Malfoy." He waited for Harry to laugh, but he didn't. "Harry Potter." Harry said slowly, extending a hand which Draco shook. "Hn. You're Harry Potter, then? I don't know why I hadn't guessed it before..."
Harry looked up again, just as the compartment door was pulled open once more. A red-haired boy stood there. If Harry where a bitter person, he would have laughed aloud. The boy's appearence was almost comical, what with his firey-red hair and multitude of freckles.
"Sorry," He said quickly, eyeing Draco wickedly. "I didn't know this compartment was occupied." With that, the boy turned and quickly left.
"What was that all about?" Harry asked Draco, as he leaned back against the back of his seat. Trains where a lot more comfortable than he thought they where. Draco glanced out the window, toward the door, and then back at Harry.
"That was a Weasley. They're no good, you know. Nothing but riff-raff who'll take you for whatever you've got, once you get to like them." He replied. Harry blinked. "He didn't seem to bad on the platform," he said quietly, and Draco nodded. "Trust me. No good, that 'un."
Harry made a small noise of understanding, his eyes shifting to stare out the window again. He looked up once more to find the strange Draco Malfoy staring at him intently.
"What is it?" He said irritably, shifting under the pale boy's gaze. "Your scar. It's the most curious shape, really, I'd heard it was the shape of a bolt of lightning. It seems that my sources have yet to deny me the truth." He squinted his eyes, examinging the scar closely, until Harry stood, now shaking, and walked toward the food trolly.
"Yes, one of everything, please." He said gently to the woman who posed the trolly. "Are you alright, dear? You look sick!" The witch exclaimed, handing Harry one of every bit of food on the trolly...plus a little extra, since he looked so sickly.
"You'll spoil your appetite." Draco commented, watching as Harry endulged himself in a pumpkin pasty. "There's a feast, once we reach the castle."
Harry looked up with a smile. "Want some?" He asked extending a pasty to the boy across from him, and Draco simply stared, bemused. No one had ever offered to share anything with him before... "Alright," He said, finally, taking the offered pasty.
Rain pattered gently on the window, and Hedwig, Harry's birthday gift from Hagrid, hooted lightly in sleep, her head tucked gently under her wing. The train rattled on...on it's way to Hogwarts, and a brand new start for Harry Potter: the boy who lived.
Around him, the sounds of many happy voices and the hooting of owls greeted him where he stood, blinking against the suddenly blaring sunlight. He sighed, brushing his hair from his eyes. A brown haired girl stood just ahead of him, talking rather quickly to her parents, who looked quite shaken. They must have been...ah...what was it that Hagrid had called them? Oh yes, muggles.
After securing his trunk in the baggage cart, Harry scaled the train steps, peering around in wonder. He followed the isle to the very last compartment, throwing himself down with a sigh. He was so engrossed in the scenes out the window, that he didn't notice that someone had entered his compartment.
An icy voice startled him siddenly, and Harry spun around to face the speaker. "Is this seat taken?" The person had said. It was a boy, about Harry's age, maybe younger, who stood before him. His hair was silver- blonde, and his eyes where a deep and menacing gray.
"No," Harry said quietly. "Go ahead," He motioned to the seat just across from him, and the boy sat down. He could feel those gray eyes boaring into him, and he turned back, finally, and snapped, "Can I help you with something?"
The boy simply shrugged. "My name is Draco Malfoy." He waited for Harry to laugh, but he didn't. "Harry Potter." Harry said slowly, extending a hand which Draco shook. "Hn. You're Harry Potter, then? I don't know why I hadn't guessed it before..."
Harry looked up again, just as the compartment door was pulled open once more. A red-haired boy stood there. If Harry where a bitter person, he would have laughed aloud. The boy's appearence was almost comical, what with his firey-red hair and multitude of freckles.
"Sorry," He said quickly, eyeing Draco wickedly. "I didn't know this compartment was occupied." With that, the boy turned and quickly left.
"What was that all about?" Harry asked Draco, as he leaned back against the back of his seat. Trains where a lot more comfortable than he thought they where. Draco glanced out the window, toward the door, and then back at Harry.
"That was a Weasley. They're no good, you know. Nothing but riff-raff who'll take you for whatever you've got, once you get to like them." He replied. Harry blinked. "He didn't seem to bad on the platform," he said quietly, and Draco nodded. "Trust me. No good, that 'un."
Harry made a small noise of understanding, his eyes shifting to stare out the window again. He looked up once more to find the strange Draco Malfoy staring at him intently.
"What is it?" He said irritably, shifting under the pale boy's gaze. "Your scar. It's the most curious shape, really, I'd heard it was the shape of a bolt of lightning. It seems that my sources have yet to deny me the truth." He squinted his eyes, examinging the scar closely, until Harry stood, now shaking, and walked toward the food trolly.
"Yes, one of everything, please." He said gently to the woman who posed the trolly. "Are you alright, dear? You look sick!" The witch exclaimed, handing Harry one of every bit of food on the trolly...plus a little extra, since he looked so sickly.
"You'll spoil your appetite." Draco commented, watching as Harry endulged himself in a pumpkin pasty. "There's a feast, once we reach the castle."
Harry looked up with a smile. "Want some?" He asked extending a pasty to the boy across from him, and Draco simply stared, bemused. No one had ever offered to share anything with him before... "Alright," He said, finally, taking the offered pasty.
Rain pattered gently on the window, and Hedwig, Harry's birthday gift from Hagrid, hooted lightly in sleep, her head tucked gently under her wing. The train rattled on...on it's way to Hogwarts, and a brand new start for Harry Potter: the boy who lived.