Chapter 4: Star Struck

Playing with Theodore wasn't as much fun after that. For one, they couldn't play swords anymore since they didn't have two sticks the same size. Secondly, Theodore started laughing as soon as Father left earshot. Draco tolerated very little teasing about getting in trouble before he sent Theodore away to sit with their mothers. He himself stewed in his rooms.

"Dobby," Draco said to the empty chamber.

A crack sounded a split-second later. As soon as their gazes met, Dobby flinched. Draco rolled his eyes.

"The Young Master is summoning Dobby?" Dobby asked.

Draco crossed his arms. "You got my wand taken away."

"Dobby is sorry, Young Master." Dobby bowed so deeply in front of Draco that his long nose touched the floor. "Dobby will iron his fingers extra for this grievance, sir."

"You didn't have to tell my father what caused the fire," Draco said. "You could've just put it out, and then went on with your business."

Dobby's eyes went wider than they usually were, which was saying something. "The Master is to be told whenever damage occurs to the property."

"There was no damage. You fixed it." Draco paused, studying Dobby with narrowed eyes. "I'm one of your masters. Aren't I?"

"Yes, the Young Master is."

"Then you have to listen to me. I forbid you to tell my father—or my mother," Draco added, for a potential loophole, "—anything that might get me in trouble, that you can just fix by yourself."

Dobby stared at Draco, then started to wring his hands. He shifted his weight back and forth between his feet.

"But the Master and Mistress has told Dobby to do different," Dobby said in a worried voice. "Dobby cannot possibly obey both instructions."

"Yes you can." Draco took a step closer, which made Dobby flinch again. "You'll figure it out, I'm sure. House-elves can't be that dumb."

Dobby bowed again, shaking. "Of course, Young Master. Dobby will do what Dobby can."

"Good. Now go away."

Draco didn't feel much better after Dobby popped out of his chamber. It hadn't gotten his wand back, and he was still annoyed from Theodore's taunts. At least maybe in future, this wouldn't be a problem again.

Father returned Draco's wand to him around nine o'clock on the morning of September the first. Draco stored it deep in his trunk.

The next hour and a half was quite possibly the slowest of Draco's life. Mum wanted him to sit with her for tea and breakfast, which wasn't very fun when she cried on and off about Draco leaving home. Because she kept saying things about it, Draco had a hard time fighting a lump in his throat. He was very excited to finally be away from his parents—to feel all grown-up—but it started to sink in that it would be nearly four months before he saw his mum again. Christmas might as well be a million years away.

Father was a school governor, so he would be around once in a while at Hogwarts. Draco felt reassured at the reminder, although he tried his best not to show how relieved he was. He merely nodded, expression purposely straight, when his father told him he would send notes ahead so that they could visit if Draco wanted.

The time finally came for them to leave. Mum had gotten kissing Draco's cheeks out of her system, and her eyes looked now as though she hadn't shed a single tear.

Draco Side-Along-Apparated with Mum, while Father took his trunk. They arrived right in the train platform. Draco's feet planted to the ground as he looked around at all the students, their parents, and their animals. As an afterthought, he let go of Mum's hand. He didn't need to be called a baby or something straight away.

"There are Deidra and Montgomery," Father said as they walked deeper in.

Theodore looked just as nervous as Draco felt. When he saw Draco, Theodore straightened up and he looked bored instead with everything.

"Have you seen Vincent and Gregory?" Draco asked him while their parents all chatted.

"Not yet."

"Want to get on the train and make sure we have a good spot?"

"Sure."

Draco dreaded the final goodbye with his parents, so the only way not to drag this out was to get it over with. Mum's eyes swam again as she hugged him one more time. Father's grip on Draco's shoulder was so tight, he could still feel it when he and Theodore lugged their trunks over to the nearest door.

They were lucky to find a compartment to themselves. Draco prepared to tell anyone that tried to share to go away, but Vincent and Gregory showed up first and took the rest of the space.

"All right?" Theodore asked them.

"I guess," Gregory said. "School is school."

"Gonna miss your mummies?"

"No more than you," Vincent snapped.

Draco laughed, braced for the same accusation to be levied against him. Instead, Vincent and Gregory put their trunks up and got comfortable with the lunches their mums sent them with.

Their parents all stood together outside. Waving was hard for all the emotions Draco had to suppress. When eleven o'clock came and the train jarred into motion, Draco released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

Vincent and Gregory ate their sandwiches, and were hungry again by the time the sweet trolley came about a little past noon. Draco was partial to the Pumpkin Pasties and Liquorice Wands, although he ended up tossing the rest to Vincent when he came on full. His breakfast still stuck to his bones, and he wanted to save himself for the feast anyway.

A while later, the compartment door was wrenched open. It happened so suddenly that Draco's spine straightened out of the slouch he'd slumped into. A girl with bushy brown hair looked imperiously around at them.

"Have any of you seen a toad?" she asked in a bossy voice.

Draco blinked before raising an eyebrow. "A toad?"

"A boy's lost one," she replied, then looked at them all again. "Oh, are you lot first-years too?"

Draco nodded along with Vincent, Gregory, and Theodore.

"I've already read all the books, of course," she said as if this had been expected of them. "The school I went to before I got my Hogwarts letter taught Latin, which is obviously going to be useful. My Latin teacher was very particular about pronunciation. Magical Theory says a lot about how important that is in spell-casting."

She paused, during which Draco met Theodore's gaze. Vincent and Gregory shifted in their seats.

Theodore opened his mouth to reply, but the girl ploughed on: "I'm also particularly interested in Potions. I've heard from older students that the Potions professor is hard to please, but I'm accustomed to high standards. I couldn't find anything in our texts about how potions-making would go for someone without magic. It's not exactly required if you're mixing magical ingredients, is it? But then again, you need to wave your wand over the cauldron for most potions, don't you?"

"Er—" Gregory said.

"I've already started thinking about my subjects for third year," the girl continued. "Did you know Hogwarts offers Divination? I'm skeptical, but also curious—"

"Excuse me," Draco said loudly enough to speak over her.

She stopped talking, blinking with wide eyes as if she only just realized there were actually people present for her monologue. Her gaze came to Draco.

"We already know all this," Draco drawled. "We aren't idiots."

The girl looked around again. Theodore's eyebrows were seated somewhere near the middle of his forehead. Vincent looked stumped.

"Oh," the girl said under her breath. "Are you all from wizarding families, then? I've been reading about some of them—I couldn't help but take extra books when my parents and I went to Diagon Alley—and—"

"You're going to lecture us on our own bloodlines, now?" Draco asked.

The girl frowned. "You're not really all that pleasant, are you?"

"Then why are you still here?"

"You know," she said while swelling indignantly, "that's a very good question."

With that and another flourish of the compartment door, she left. As soon as her bushy hair disappeared from view through the window, Draco snorted his way into laughter. Vincent, Gregory, and Theodore weren't far behind.

"My god," Draco said when they'd all calmed down. "I hope she isn't in Slytherin. Imagine dealing with that every lesson."

"Might be ambitious enough." Theodore shrugged. "Ravenclaw, more likely. They're usually uppity like that."

The four of them settled back into nibbling on their sweets. Draco took one of his Liquorice Wands back from Vincent.

Gregory looked in thought as he chewed on a Chocolate Frog. "I didn't know anything she was talking about. The Latin stuff, and that."

"You don't have to know that before going," Theodore said. "You know that Snape is—how did she say it? Hard to please?"

"Putting it lightly, I suppose she's right," Draco replied with another snort. He looked over at Vincent and Gregory then. "Don't worry. Theodore and I won't let you embarrass yourselves. Just do your homework with us, and you'll be fine. You already know more than all the Muggle-borns we'll have lessons with."

"Yeah, true." Vincent sat up a bit straighter.

Their compartment door opened again about halfway through the afternoon. Giggling quickly filled the suddenly-cramped space, as did three flushed girls. It was Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, and Daphne Greengrass.

Pansy took a seat between Draco and Gregory. Daphne did the same on the other side, making colour flush up into Theodore's cheeks. Millicent preferred to stay standing, leaned against the compartment door beside Vincent.

"So?" Pansy said. "You all heard?"

"Heard what?" Draco asked.

"Harry Potter's on the train." Daphne's eyes lit up with her excitement. "We went past his compartment. I think it's really him!"

"Oh, so he did come to Hogwarts, then." Draco's stomach flipped a little. "My father wasn't sure if he would."

"Where else would he go?" Millicent asked.

"Wherever he was hidden away after everything, I guess?" Draco shrugged. "What do you reckon he's like?"

"He's the one that bought most the sweets off the trolley," Pansy said with a sniff and half-hearted roll of the eyes. "We had to wait while she reloaded."

"Well," Draco said, standing. "I say we ought to introduce ourselves. He'll probably need someone to show him the ropes and all that. Either he's just come back to the wizarding world, or back to Britain."

Vincent and Gregory stood with him. Draco hesitated at the compartment door, looking back at Theodore. "Coming?"

"Nah," Theodore said with the quickest waver of a glance toward Daphne beside him. "You go on."

Draco rolled his eyes a little inwardly, but it was all right. He didn't trust Theodore to say the right things, or to not try and commandeer the entire conversation. Vincent and Gregory were quieter that way.

As they headed up the way Pansy, Millicent, and Daphne had come from, Draco realized he should have asked them which compartment Potter was in. Other students were just as happy to convey this information.

Draco approached the compartment and paused with his hand on the door. His stomach flipped again in a weird way as he looked through the window. Draco sincerely doubted Potter was the redhead between the two boys inside. In that case, Draco had already met him. They're dead, Draco remembered, and suddenly everything about that strange boy at Madam Malkin's shop made sense.

The boy looked up when Draco opened the compartment door, straightening a little in his seat. It pleased Draco that he too had been remembered.

"Is it true?" Draco broke the silence between the five of them. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes," Harry said. He tensed, his gaze going back and forth over Draco's shoulders. Draco could just about hear how intensely Vincent and Gregory must be studying him in turn, their curiosity piqued.

"Oh, this is Crabbe, and this is Goyle," Draco introduced them. "And my name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

The redheaded boy that Harry sat with ducked his head and failed to stifle a laugh. Draco's gaze slid over to him, taking in the shabby state of his clothes and a spot of filth on his nose.

"Think my name's funny, do you?" Draco coolly asked. "No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

Whichever Weasley this was, his expression darkened. Unfortunately, his uncouthness had already clearly rubbed off on Harry. His black hair was a mess, his glasses were held together by Spellotape, and his clothing certainly did not befit someone of his status. Draco felt slightly embarrassed for him. This boy had done in the Dark Lord. He shouldn't look like this.

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter," Draco told him. "You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

Draco held his hand out to shake. Harry looked down at it. As the moment stretched, Draco's heart picked up a little.

Harry lifted his chin again, meeting Draco's gaze. "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."

Draco had to school his expression straight, face warm, as Vincent and Gregory shifted. The Weasley boy straightened up like a delighted plant that had just been watered.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter." Draco schooled his tone even as well. "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 riff-raff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Potter's eyes flashed before he leapt up out of his seat. So did the Weasley boy. Draco might have worried, had Vincent and Gregory not come with him. Either of them would be quite pleased to land a punch on Harry Potter.

"Say that again," Weasley told Draco.

Draco gave him a withering look. "Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?"

"Unless you get out now," Potter said.

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we boys?" A smirk pulled up on one end of Draco's mouth. "We've eaten all our food, and you still seem to have some."

Weasley darted toward Gregory, and then things happened fast. Draco hadn't time to even think about getting out of dodge before a yell reverberated against his eardrum. Draco backed into Vincent, trying to move out of the way of Gregory flailing about. Something was stuck to his hand.

It flew off toward the window. Draco recoiled, unable to make a sound as disgust filled him to realize it was a rat. He bolted for the exit. Gregory about beat him out, and Vincent wasn't far behind.

They'd scampered a carriage's length away before daring to slow. Gregory inhaled a hiss through his teeth. He held one of his hands with the other. Both were slick with blood.

Draco's head lightened a little at the sight of it. "Come on."

As they slipped their way past all the other students in the train corridor, Draco's mind raced as to whether he'd read anything in his school books that might count as a healing spell. He didn't think he had.

Pansy, Millicent, and Daphne had made themselves comfortable in the compartment. Their grins disappeared behind pale faces as they looked at Gregory.

"Oh, put some pressure on it!" Daphne said.

"What happened?" Pansy asked, standing and putting her back against the window.

"Potter's gone feral, is what happened!" Draco spat.

Daphne had leapt up from where she sat beside Theodore to help Gregory. She wrapped his hand in a shirt Vincent had dug out from his trunk. Daphne looked over at Draco, bewildered, before back to Gregory. "Harry Potter bit you?"

"No, some rat did." Draco paced, too wound up to sit. "Not that I'm shocked there was one in there with a Weasley. It probably saw its chance to escape whatever sort of hovel they call a house, and hitched a ride for Hogwarts."

A couple dark looks were exchanged about the compartment. Gregory still breathed a little heavily. Daphne held his injured hand tightly between hers.

"You'll probably have to see the matron when we get there," Millicent said, breaking the silence. "It might get infected. You know how dirty rats are."

"Great." Draco flopped down in his seat and folded his arms. "I already had dragon pox this summer. And now a Weasley's bringing the Black bloody Death to school with us."

Maybe now that things had settled, or perhaps because it was Gregory that laughed first, the compartment's tense atmosphere broke. They all joined in, although Gregory was also the first to stop.

"You don't really think I've got the Black Death, do you?" he asked.

"Go to the matron when we arrive." Draco waved a hand. "She'll sort you out."

"Worst case, you'll probably just have to drink some nasty potion," Theodore added. "You'll be fine."

"If it's anything like the dragon pox one, I pity you," Draco said.

They all laughed again. At the same time, Daphne took a peek under Gregory's makeshift wrappings. She pulled it off. Gregory's hand was covered in brownish, dried blood.

"Well, it stopped bleeding," she said. "How does it feel?"

"Still hurts," Gregory grunted. "But it's okay. Thanks."

"Yep." Daphne beamed, although it faded when she tentatively held the shirt toward Vincent. "Did you want this back?"

"Er, yeah." Vincent took it.

"Although I suppose that clears up a mystery, doesn't it?" Pansy asked, taking the empty space between Vincent and Theodore. "Do you think that's where Potter's been all these years? With the Weasleys?"

"Oh, maybe." Draco wrinkled his nose. "My father didn't know anything about it. If even Fudge wouldn't tell him, it must have been a big secret. Or Dumbledore went off on his own about it."

"Their accents are different," Vincent said.

"Huh?" Draco replied.

"Their accents," Vincent repeated. "Potter and Weasley. They don't talk the same."

Draco hadn't realized at the time, but he did now in hindsight. "You noticed that?"

Vincent shrugged. "Guess I've heard your mum correct how you talk enough times."

Everyone else laughed, and Draco couldn't really help but join in. There was a relief behind it, since it meant that Potter hadn't grown up with that ridiculous family. And yet. . .

"Well, Weasley didn't waste any time at all spoiling Potter's mind about who's worth his attention," Draco said, bringing them all back to seriousness. "He said I was the wrong sort."

"He said he could tell who the wrong sort were," Vincent said.

"What's the difference?"

Vincent worked his lips, thinking, then shrugged again.

"I mean, you did say that thing about his parents," Gregory said.

"And?" Draco rolled his eyes. "Was I wrong? His parents threw a couple fingers up at the Dark Lord, and look where that got them. Where do you think that sort of disrespect would've gotten any of our fathers?"

Draco looked primarily at the boys in the compartment. The girls still looked thoughtful, even though their families had never been involved enough to deal with the same bollocks after the war.

"I mean, my father knew the Dark Lord before the war." Theodore shrugged. "The Dark Lord would've noticed if he bolted."

"Exactly." Draco stood up again, too angry to sit. "You'd think out of anybody, it would be bloody obvious to Potter what happened when you pissed the Dark Lord off. The Dark Lord could've tried to off any of us, instead. Who knows what it was about the Potters that he decided the whole family needed to go?"

They all slowly nodded, thinking.

"I mean. . ." Daphne idly twirled a strand of her blonde hair around a finger. "We'll find out what it was about Potter that he survived. Right? Now he'll be at Hogwarts with us?"

"It certainly isn't because he's smart," Draco drawled. "He might have done the Dark Lord in, but he's still an idiot."

The others laughed, although Draco found he couldn't join in this time. He was too annoyed, mostly by the disappointment that filtered in with this revelation. Potter was an idiot, and he and Draco would not be friends after all.