By the time September 1st came around, Draco had a vague idea of how to do the things he needed to make sure Potter did not get possessed and kill everyone. Befriending him was no problem, with none of the Weasleys filling his ears with what his family did, what his father used to be. Not that Draco blamed them, they were more or less right. But it would prove to be difficult to befriend Potter if he didn't make a good impression with the Weasley.
The morning of Draco leaving for platform 9 ¾ started with the platinum blonde waking up hours before the sun rose. He went through the books he bought. Not the first-year ones, he knew those by heart. It was the other two, about basic runes and dark arts that he looked through. He knew right away that he needed to better his handwriting if he wanted to be able to use runes for anything. Even an inch here and there would be disastrous. He'd ask his mother about it when she woke.
What he did after was stare at his wand intently, for a good half an hour. He remembered what wand had chosen him the last time, 10", Hawthorn, unicorn hair. This was not that wand.
11", Blackthorn, dragon heartstring. This was that wand, a wand he remembered taking from someone after his original wand had been taken by Potter from that time in the manor. That event in another lifetime.
It left Draco confused as to why this was the case. He should have gotten his old wand. The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Malfoy the words of old Ollivander played in his mind. Draco also remembered that his old wand, he had his mother buy it for him. Maybe the words had some form of truth in them. This wand was more cooperative than his first one, that was for sure.
By the time the sun had risen, Draco had unpacked and repacked his entire bag, taken a shower, and made himself presentable. His mother had come to call on him this time, a change from house-elves doing the work till now.
Mother and son made their way to breakfast, the woman too ready for journeying to drop her son off. His father was already at the table, sat with a copy of The Daily Prophet in his hands. He was ready to leave at any point as well.
Breakfast was a silent affair as always, parents and child not exchanging words during the entire time. Draco spent the entire time thinking about how he would approach Potter today, a way where the boy won't hate his guts and just shake his hand when it's offered to him. And if all that goes well, then Draco could work to make Potter aware of his position in this world. The aim for him is to get Potter to think for himself once, use his mind instead of blindly listening to Dumbledore and the light side. The goal is to keep Potter from being possessed by Voldemort. And to do that, he had to make sure Potter did not do the thing Dumbledore was grooming him to do.
Draco may not know the entire story, but he remembered what Granger told him. Potter had seen Snape's memory, where he saw Dumbledore and Snape converse over his fate. If for nothing else, Draco was sure that his father was right about Dumbledore, the man was manipulative and too full of himself. It was that overconfidence that brought death on everyone.
"Draco" the sound of his father calling him made the Malfoy heir snap out of his thoughts. He looked up and saw that both his parents were staring at him, his father with the coolness that Draco was familiar with, while his mother looked slightly worried.
"Yes, father?" the son asked politely.
"You will be starting Hogwarts today, as a proud Slytherin" the man began and Drago held himself back from rolling his eyes. Trust his father to assume things without any solid backing. He was right this time, but Draco did not like it still.
"Yes," the boy gave a nod.
"Be very aware of not besmirching the family name. You are a Malfoy, I expect you to act like one" the man spoke.
"I will, father" Draco mumbled. But his thoughts were around the lines of how a proper Malfoy acted, groveling at some Half-Blood Dark Lord's feet and being subjected to his tortures and whims. Truly the mark of a proper Pureblood family.
"And play well with the other heirs in your house. Their families are sure enough of high standings and their help will be for our benefits" the older man added and Draco almost winced at the memory of his 'friends'.
He remembered these people from his old timeline. Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, Zabini, Nott. All of them his lackey one time or the other, all of them later on his adversaries when his father fell out of favor of the Dark Lord. He didn't want to befriend even a single one of them. But he knew, with where his father stands currently, he had to. So, he gave a short nod and the older Malfoy male looked away from his son.
The Malfoy matriarch though was staring at her son with clear worry still. She had noticed, ever since the nightmare a few months back that Draco had changed somehow. He still looked like her eleven-year-old son, but he acted on the contrary. His usual loud and brash attitude was replaced by a calmer and more collected mask, a mask his father often wore. The boy had all but stopped flying out back, instead choosing to be cooped up all day in his room doing one thing or the other. Narcissa had even caught him practicing the spells in his book on more than one occasion, casting them as if he already knew those spells by heart. Narcissa was always profoundly proud of whatever her son did, but seeing that made her feel prouder than before. But she still worried about the boy. When she had told Lucius about it, the man had shrugged it off and said that Draco had grown up and that he was acting as an heir should. It made sense to her, but still, she felt something out of place.
Narcissa stopped her son when breakfast ended and Lucius left the room. She stood before him, looking down at her son with a kind of softness that was reserved for him only.
"Are you feeling alright, Draco?" she asked softly, the worry clear in her eyes and the slight wrinkles on her face. "You have been acting out of sorts in the past few months."
Draco knew his mother to be a straightforward woman. Even in terms of politics, she would cover her words with polite sweetness, but the meaning was never twisted in any place. She was observant, calculating, and cunning when she needed to be. She was more Slytherin than his father. Which was why Draco wasn't surprised that she had noticed his behavior, while his father did not.
"I'm alright mother" the Malfoy heir answered with a soft smile, none of the forced politeness entering his speech. He could be somewhat free with his mother. "I am just a little worried is all."
"About school?" the woman asked. "Draco, my son, you'll do brilliantly at school. You'll do us both proud, I know it."
"Thank you mother" the boy smiled. "But that's not what I worry about. It's Harry Potter and my plans with him."
Now Narcissa looked a bit more worried than before. "You're overthinking things, Draco. I'm sure the Potter boy would happily accept your hand at friendship."
"But will he?" the boy's question made her frown further. "It was clear that Potter did not know a single thing about the Wizarding World when I met him a few months back. When he should have, considering the kind of family her hails from. So surely someone had a hand in making sure he was kept in the dark. And the only one that comes to mind.."
"Dumbledore" his mother spoke and Draco nodded.
"And we both know how Dumbledore views us" Draco left the words hanging. "So, I believe that Dumbledore will play a hand to keep Potter away from Purebloods of Slytherin."
"Then don't make friendship" his mother spoke, her tone simple and obvious.
"I need to befriend him, mother. It's of the utmost importance" the platinum blonde male insisted.
"Why?" his mother's eyes narrowed on him, "why is it so important for you to befriend him?"
Because I want to save you and father, the thought floated in his head. But on his lips were completely different words. "House Potter is a most Ancient and Noble House that holds power in the Wizarding World. Plus, Harry Potter himself holds some form of power and standing on his own. A friendship and alliance with him will only boost our standing."
Narcissa pondered on the words and nodded after a moment. The plan was a sound one. And her son had the right of what a friendship with House Potter would do for them.
"Play on your familial connection with him. You and Potter are related through House Black. His grand-aunt, Dorea Potter was a Black before marriage. She would be of the same relation to you from my side of the family."
"Really?!" Draco gasped in surprise. He had not known this little bit of information, this very important bit of information. "How many houses are House Black related to?"
"More or less every house" Narcissa gave a delicate shrug of her shoulders.
"Even the Weasleys?" he asked and Narcissa's features sported a small scowl.
"Even them. But don't go around announcing it to the world" the woman instructed and Draco gave a quick nod. But he had formed an idea of how he could get on Weasley's tolerable side.
Mother and son walked to father after their little talk. Draco's luggage had been brought down by the elves, a single charmed trunk that could hold everything he needed. He took his parents' hands while his father took hold of his trunk and the trio apparated right to Platform 9 ¾.
The platform was as busy as Draco was used to before the war broke out. Students, new and old were gathered with their friends, their families, just chatting away and laughing. To think more than half of them would be war veterans in the future. Or dead.
Draco shook the thoughts out of his head and with a kiss goodbye to his mother and a nod to his father, he walked over to the last bogey of the train, his trunk being pulled along by him. He knew for a fact that he would meet Potter here again this time around.
He found his soon-to-be designated compartment and found four people he wanted to avoid at all costs when he opened the door. Crabbe and Goyle were sat opposite to one another, each looking disinterested as they stared out the window. Pansy was sat beside Goyle, looking at her reflection in a small hand mirror.
"Draco!" Pansy was the first to notice him and before Draco could give her a silent greeting in return, she had tackled him for a hug. A silent grunt left his lips and the displeasure was clear on his face. Not that Pansy noticed, too lost in her world of fantasizing about the life she would live with the Malfoy heir. It was no surprise that she had a crush on Draco, and her family only encouraged her to woo the boy.
Grey hues shifted up from the pug-faced girl clinging to him and fell on the two boys that were now standing, looking at Draco with silent obedience. Crabbe Jr and Goyle Jr were very much the same as their fathers. While the seniors were like Lucius Malfoy's muscles, the juniors were Draco's, a fact that his actual eleven-year-old self would have loved. But for him? He did not like it. Especially knowing the fact that the two would turn on him when there would be a change in the pecking order.
Slowly and with some difficulty Draco pushed the Parkinson girl off of himself. He watched Crabbe take his trunk and put it up while Goyle shifted to give him space to sit. Draco accepted the offer to sit down and watched the other three sit as well.
"So how excited are you in starting Hogwarts? I know I am very excited! Merlin the things we'll be learning. And the many mudbloods we'll be torturing" the Parkinson girl cackled and Draco was grossly reminded of his aunt right there.
Draco kept the conversation to a minimum, keeping his eyes fixed out the window. He tuned out Pansy's constant gibberish about all things Pureblood, Muggleborn, and the rest. She was talking to herself, seeing as Crabbe and Goyle too were zoning her out.
The train began to move and Draco's journey to a less war-torn Hogwarts began. He was a tad nervous he would admit. He was going back to Hogwarts, a place that in the future would be reduced to a war ground. He could still picture the faces of the people that would die in the coming war when he closed his eyes. His eyes shifted to Crabbe and he was reminded of how the boy would end up burning himself in Fiendfire, something he would cast.
He could change all of that. He would be changing all of that. If Potter did not fall into Voldemort's hands, then he could tip this war in their favor easily. They'd still have to deal with the war anyway, but with a chance to win.
What if I took care of the Horcruxes on my own, the thought came to him without even really thinking about it. But Draco pushed it away immediately. He knew of only two Horcruxes, Potter and that Diary his father would be giving the Weasley girl. The rest, he had no clue about. And he was not about to go and find them all.
"I'm going for a walk" he stood up, and the three followed his example. "Alone" he spoke with a hint of an authoritative voice, hiding his ire of them. The three sat back down, looking not at all happy at being told that. Not that the Malfoy heir cared much.
Draco walked out the doors and shut them behind him without another look. He walked down the empty hallway humming softly to himself. Potter's compartment shouldn't be that far from where he was sat. He still peered through the glass to check. As he suspected, they were close to his compartment, and Potter had already found his Weasley.
Harry and Ron were having a nice chat, getting to know one another and eating the candy he bought from the trolley. The Boy who Lived had met the entirety of The Weasley family outside the barrier to the platform. Mrs. Weasley, Ron's mum, had helped him find the way and Ron's twin brothers had helped him with his trunk. He liked them already, a family who cared about one another. Ron was telling him about more of his Wizard family when the door to his compartment opened.
"Potter" Draco greeted him with a smile, one Harry returned. He remembered the boy from Madam Malkin's.
"Draco" he smiled back. "And call me Harry, please" he added. His eyes moved to Ron, who seemed to shrink a little and was throwing Draco a slight glare. "This is Ron, Ron Weasley."
"Oh," Draco looked over to the ginger boy and gave him a respectful nod. Something that seemed to surprise the boy. He took a seat beside Harry when the boy offered it. "Did you know, I found out that you and I are related from my mother's side of the family!"
"Really?" Harry asked, completely in awe of that fact. The boy had not known of any family besides The Dursleys. So, this came as a pleasant surprise.
"You're lying" Ron muttered, his face growing sullen and eyes narrowing on the Malfoy heir. Draco met his look with his own and gave a gentle shrug.
"It's true" the platinum blonde boy stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "Harry's grandaunt Dorea Potter was a Black before marrying his granduncle. She's also my grandaunt on my mother's side of the family" he explained calmly and saw Ron deflate slightly. "You and I are also distantly related through House Black."
"Now that HAS to be a lie!" Ron exclaimed a little too loudly, making Harry jump. But Draco shrugged once more.
"You can look at your family tree if you want. If my mum says that's true, then I believe her. She never lies about these things."
"Family tree?" Harry asked. He, sure enough, knew about family trees. His old primary school back had him draw one, which he failed to do because he had little help and knew nothing about his family. But maybe magical family trees were different. Maybe Harry could learn more about his family from it.
"Yeah! All Ancient and Noble houses have one. Since both our houses are one, they surely have one. And House Weasley is an Ancient one as well, so they have one too. I'm sure of it."
Harry nodded, thinking about it for a moment. "How do I get to see mine?" he asked.
"Well, it should be present in your family house. Or you could go to Gringotts and ask The Goblins for one. But remember to be very respectful with them. They respect only those that respect them."
Harry went to speak but Ron suddenly stood up and stormed out of the compartment. "What happened with him?" Harry asked, completely caught off guard by the boy.
Draco let out a sigh, watching his idea get on Weasley's good side crumbling to dust. "His father and mine don't like one another. They have different beliefs and understandings on quite a few things."
"Really?" the boy asked and Draco nodded.
"In the last war, my father fought for The Dark Lord" Draco confessed, unable to understand why he was telling Potter this. It could blow up in his face. "My father does not like muggle-borns at all."
"But why?" Harry asked, shocked at knowing these new bits of information from the boy. "What has muggle-borns ever done to him?"
"Nothing" Draco shrugged. "He believes that they are not worthy of magic and that only Purebloods should be able to practice it."
"And you?" Potter questioned and Draco shrugged once more.
"I don't care really. Maybe as a child, I used to follow him blindly, but not anymore. I'll respect anyone skilled with magic and nothing else. Blood status means little to me I suppose."
That wasn't a complete lie. He had come to respect Granger in his last life, for the witch that she became. Skilled, smart, and powerful she was a pain in his ass as well as the Death Eaters as well. Draco still did not like muggle-borns, but he wasn't as bad as he used to be.
"I see" Harry frowned, looking down at his feet in thought. He stood up then. "I'm going to see if Ron is okay" he mumbled and walked out, leaving Draco alone in the compartment.
"That went well" the platinum blonde-haired boy sighed, looking out the window in thought. A squeaking noise made him look forward and he saw the sight of someone that made him freeze. Right in front of him inside of a small cage was a rat. But not just any rat. Draco knew full well who it was, and that it had overheard his conversation with Harry.
"Hello there" the Malfoy heir smiled, his wand dropping from his right sleeve. He pointed the tip at the rat, who began to panic and scurry around the cage.
"Obliviate" he muttered, focusing on what exactly he wanted the rat to forget. The rat stiffened before calming down slowly. Draco muttered another spell and a white light shot out of his wand and hit the rat, who slowly fell asleep.
"There," he muttered and put his wand back up his sleeve. The compartment door opened and out there stood a chubby-faced boy.
"Have you seen Trevor? He's a toad" he spoke, voice clearly grief-stricken. Ah, Neville Longbottom.