A/N: Wow, chapter 1 and 2 have more reviews than Giddy Brew is ever going to get. Amazing. Okay, well far more if Serendipity didn't give me two or so reviews per chapter, anyway. Actually, someone at her Gaia online site pointed something out. Giddy Brew would be better if there was a story aside from the romance line- but I've noticed when writing original pieces, I have trouble tearing myself from mushy crap. I suppose that's because I'm a closet romantic as Fish claims. I think its because I'm so used to writing slash. This story seems devoid of any romantic junk, for the moment. For the moment being the key words.
***
The train was only an hour from the castle, now. The food cart had come and gone, and Harry was more confused than ever. Already, he had discovered that not only had he dated Pansy Parkinson, but together, he and Draco had been out with over half the school. And he still couldn't find Ron, who he was sure would clarify everything.
Every time Harry went to search for the redhead, Draco pulled him back into the compartment so Harry could 'reunite' with some friend he'd never even known he'd had. Oddly enough, Crabbe and Goyle were not among those ranks. Even more strange, the Patil twins, Alicia Spinnet, and Roger Davies were.
"Draco?" he asked lethargically, as the blonde had just basically shoved ten chocolate frogs down Harry's throat. It was hard to work up the effort to open his eyes now, much less talk.
"Hmm?" Draco sounded, equally sated from the sweets.
"Well, I hate to ask, but," Harry paused, "Where are Crabbe and Goyle?" He had refrained from asking about several people, up till now, including Ron and Neville, seeing as the other boy apparently had too many enemies.
Propping himself up against the cushion, Draco demanded, "What's up with you Potter? First you go all freaky on my being your friend, and now your asking about a dead man and one of Longbottom's lackeys. Why don't you start asking about Weasley, or that goody-goody Finnegan."
"Hunh? I don't know what you're talking about," Harry replied pompously. Pomposity, he'd learned, was one of the only ways to deal with Draco, "So…who's dead? Crabbe or Goyle. I always forget…"
Draco whistled, "That's low, Potter, even for you. Vincent is the one who croaked, in second year, remember? You used to be pretty good friends with Gregory, before Vince died. Then he went all psycho-good doer, and you dropped him like a dime."
"I never did understand that expression," Harry said absently, "Why would you drop a dime. I don't know much about American money, but I figure no one would want to waste a perfectly good ten cent piece."
"You think too much, Potter, it's your downfall with the ladies," Draco grinned, "Which reminds me," he withdrew a letter from the robes they'd just recently put on, "One of those Gryffindor girls, Hannah, I think her name was, gave me this at the beginning of hols, but I seem to have forgotten to give it to you."
"Hannah Abbott?" Harry remembered Hannah to be a slightly plump blonde Hufflepuff with a quirky nose, "She's in Gryffindor?"
"Well, you'd expect her to be, wouldn't you? Parents being who they are," lazily, Draco tossed the letter to him, "I think she likes you."
"Wait, what do you mean, parents being who they are?" Harry asked, crinkling his forehead in a very unattractive manner. Were they some sort of heroes as well?
"Potter, honestly, tell me if you've been sniffing your mum's magnolia seeds again. I tell you, they mess with your mind," Draco sighed, "They're the Minster of Magic and Supreme Council Head."
"I knew that," Harry laughed skittishly, trying to hide the fact that he most definitely had not known, "I was just, um, yanking your chain."
Draco cast him a somewhat disdainful but ultimately blank look, "Potter…I don't have a chain."
"Sorry, muggle expression," he offered his 'friend' a tiny grin of apology.
"Ha, like you know any muggles aside from that halfbreed Granger," Draco laughed, "Good joke."
"Sure, Malfoy, whatever you say," clenching his fist, Harry stood, "I want to stretch my legs."
"Oh. I fancy a walk as well," the smaller boy scrambled up, collecting himself.
Gee, Harry thought, I don't recall inviting you. But of course, he couldn't say this out loud because, as of yet, Draco Malfoy had been the only person offering him any information on this strange world. Still, didn't he have prefect duties to attend to or something? No badge, better not to ask and get weirder looks than he already was. So instead, he listened to Draco start, "Oh, and, back to Hannah. If you don't go after her, she'll fall for pretty boy Diggory again, and we all know what happened last time."
Actually, he didn't. Cedric was alive? When he found Ron, Harry resolved, things would be different. Clearer. Hopefully.
***
Except that finding Ron Weasley was harder then it initially seemed. The train arrived at Hogwarts in the usual fashion, and Harry was ushered unceremoniously into one of the thestral drawn carriages, Draco glued to his side, "I hate those things."
"Thestrals?" Harry asked, surprised. In this alternate universe, it occurred to him, what with everything being so happy-fine-and-dandy, it was rather strange that he could see the thestrals, much less Draco Malfoy, whom Harry used to think would cringe and run away at the very syllabic sound of death, and probably keel over in a swoon at the sight.
"Yes," Draco shivered, "They're so creepy in the pictures Professor Grubbly-Plank shows us. It's so strange that you can see them. But then, I suppose it's creepier not being able to see them, don't you think? Still knowing they're there."
Well, at least some things never change. Draco Malfoy would probably still vomit at the sight of blood. Then it occurred to him, "Mal-er, Draco? Why can I see the thestrals again?"
The blonde stared at him incredulously, "Have you gone daft?"
"Possibly," he replied amiably. The castle was approaching and that same sense of relief he always felt when nearing home was washing over his body. Although for once, he almost wished he'd stayed away from Hogwarts, if only to get to know his parents.
That was when his first great realization struck, "Sirius!"
"What?" Draco rolled his eyes, already adjusting to this new, strangely appealing, confused Harry.
"Sirius," Harry said slowly, "Draco, that's it. I'll just ask him."
"Sirius Black? That goody-goody?" he wrinkled his nose as the carriage rolled to a stop, "Why would you want to talk to him."
"I'd bet he can explain everything to me," Harry recalled the picture in his parents' house of his godfather sitting languidly in some cluttered office, the same old smirk tugging at his lips, "He always can."
"Since when have we developed this new idolatry of my uncle?" he made finger quotation marks as he said the word uncle, "Mum always says he's a blood-traitor. Then again, mum's slightly off her rocker," Draco shrugged, "So I guess I should take what she says with a grain of salt."
"Or a million grains," Harry threw up his hands, wandering out onto the grounds. A group of nervous first years were gathered at the doors, already being ushered inside by two weary looking figures, the head boy and girl, he supposed, while the rest of the school stood outside, chatting and gossiping away, "Sirius is great."
"You think everything's great. I really doubt whatever your question is, Black can answer it. He's been vying for a promotion at the ministry for years, and no one will give it to him because he's too…moronic. Mum and Aunty Bella say he was a nasty playboy back in his day. He's gone to waste now."
Harry cringed at the mention of Bellatrix. That bitch had killed Sirius. Why that little, "Draco? How is your Aunty Bella?"
"She's fine. You'll see her in a little while, with the way you're accident prone. She is the nurse, you know," Draco let out a hearty laugh, "Bellatrix Snape, school nurse. Five years ago, who would have figured?"
Shocked still, Harry only managed, "N-nurse? What happened to Madame Pomfrey?"
Narrowing his eyes, Draco turned on him, "Okay, Potter. Enough with all the weird questions. You're freaking me out, okay? Geez, it's like you have no idea that the old hag is dead."
"Well I didn't," the dark-haired boy cried, then stopped, "I mean I didn't want to-uh, you know, tread into bad waters, or anything."
Great, he told himself, that made no sense. Now Malfoy's going to suspect. You big git.
"You're such a prat, Potter," Malfoy muttered, "Look, they're letting us go in."
Sure enough, the crowd in the courtyard was flooding into the Great Hall, passing by all the anxious first years huddled near the stair well. Basking in the very familiarity of it all, Harry proceeded to part from Draco and head straight for the Gryffindor table. Only to be stopped by a very large, very angry redhead.
In this dimension, apparently, Ron Weasley had experienced a large growth spurt, looming almost a foot above Harry's head, "What the hell do you think you're doing, Potter?"
***
Sorry, so short. But the next chapter will come soon. Promise. *crosses fingers* For hope, I swear, I'm crossing my fingers for hope and um, luck. R+R, please?