Pleasant conversation filled the cabin for the first couple of hours of the journey, as each passenger was slowly brought out of their shell at least a little. Except for Harry, of course. Harry kept up his somewhat gregarious act, contributing a little, but not too much. He didn't want to give the impression of being a blabbermouth or a know-it-all, after all. Still, he enjoyed himself more than he had expected. As a 15 year old, he had entirely expected every moment of the journey to be torture punctuated with bouts of mere excruciating dullness, but instead the cabin had a likeable dynamic to it. Weasley had been decent enough after the first few minutes, and Neville's infrequent stuttered remarks were occasionally interesting enough to warrant a follow up. If he was being entirely honest (which, as a rule, he tried not to be) Harry was actually beginning to feel the slightest bit peaceful for the first time since he had arrived in the past. A feeling of peace that was shattered when a familiar, blond haired boy with a trademark smirk had opened the door, flanked by two large bricks masquerading as prepubescent boys.
"Is it true then?" He asked enthusiastically, staring at Harry with an excited expression. "I heard Harry Potter was in this cabin. With a Weasley, no less." He finished with a smirk directed at the redhead. Harry stared at Malfoy with a not insignificant amount of loathing, as his mind flashed back to a banishing charm sending him to what should have been certain death.
"It's nice to meet you, Potter. I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. And this is Crabbe, and Goyle." He said, indicating his two goons. Harry inclined his head at them politely, saying nothing.
Malfoy, with a cocky smirk, continued, undeterred by his target's lack of reaction. "I heard you were in this cabin, Potter, and I came here to rescue you. We were worried about you, you see. You might go about making friends with the…wrong sort." He said, with a pointed look at the Weasel.
Harry's eyebrows drew together as he balefully considered his former friends. Was Malfoy always this blatantly obvious? He certainly wasn't being as subtle as Harry remembered. Disappointing, to say the least. And that wasn't even mentioning the fact that Drake was essentially trying to get Harry to capitulate to him. If he let Draco boss him around like this, he'd lose all credibility, and quickly. And whilst Harry wanted to have his mate back, he couldn't go along like some common foot soldier like Crabbe or Goyle. No, he had to prove he was a leader in his own right, and that he bowed to nobody. However, he couldn't afford to alienate Drake either. After all, he had to spend the next seven years with him, not to mention he had to prise the lad from underneath his father's gold-filigreed boot.
To that end, he started talking calmly, affecting something of an aristocratic tone as he attempted to chart a middle course between the Scylla and Charybdis of Ron and Drake. "Well, starting from the top – Yes, it is true, it is me, Harry Potter. Honoured to make your acquaintance, Mr. Malfoy, truly a pleasure. Please, call me Harry, I do hope we'll be friends no matter our houses, although I suspect we both know where you are going, Draco. And, to answer your implied question, yes, I understand I'm making friends with a Weasley. I see no shame in making friends with one of the most pure families in Britain, to be quite honest. I'd ask you to join us, but, as you can seem our cabin is a little full at the moment I'm afraid, so perhaps we could continue our…robust dialogue at a later time?" He finished smoothly, with a welcoming smile at his best-friend-turned-traitor.
Malfoy hesitated, unsure of how to continue. His father had specifically told him to make friends with the last Potter, and to bring him over to the right way of thinking. Now, however, it was unclear whether he could fulfil either objective. Secretly, he had hoped Potter would try to argue with him. Then, at least, he wouldn't have to share Father with the precious Boy-Who-Lived. Instead, however, he hadn't done enough make himself an enemy or a friend. Without further intelligence, Malfoy was left with only one option.
"Of course, Po…Harry. I look forward to seeing you again soon." With that, he turned on his heel and stalked off, back into the corridor, presumably to rejoin his pureblood compatriots further up the train.
After he left, Harry looked at the group, as he felt their perception of him beginning to shift from 'confident' to 'arrogant'. "Sorry about that," he began. "that Malfoy seems a bit of a cad, if I'm being honest, but he's a Malfoy, so I can't very well be rude to him, especially if I'm spending the next few years with him."
Satisfied with the answer to their unasked question, conversation began again, as Hermione extolled the virtues of The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 1, much to the chagrin of the wholly unprepared Ron Weasley. Harry settled back in, withdrawing into himself a little. He hated to admit it, but seeing Malfoy again had brought up a whole slew of emotions he'd rather keep buried. He couldn't honestly say he hated Drake, not really. They had spent far too much time together to hate him. And he understood why Draco had tried to kill him. He always did yearn far too much for his father's approval, and Harry always knew it would get Draco into trouble one day. He just didn't expect that he would be that trouble. On the other hand, however, the side of Draco he had just seen wasn't exactly endearing, and, the more he thought about it, the more he remembered similar incidents from first year, when the young, inexperienced and insecure Harry Potter had done whatever it took to keep his first friend. Including…guiltily, he snuck a glance over at Hermione, who was involved in a discussion about some trivial application of the Lumos spell. He didn't like the feeling of guilt that gnawed at his stomach, that familiar discomfort that had plagued him ever since second year.
As he fell back into his reverie, he dimly became aware that somebody was talking to him.
"Harry?"
"Hmm..wha?"
"Harry! What do you think?" A bossy voice came from opposite him.
"What? What do I think about what, Hermione?"
"All this You-Know-Who and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named rot. I mean, you…you killed him, right? Do you call him by his name? Honestly, he's been dead for a decade, why don't people just say his name?"
Harry frowned. It was a reasonable question a muggleborn, he supposed. They just didn't get it, not this young, anyway. It took him a few years to really understand. To understand that the knowledge that anybody, anywhere who spoke out against the Dark Lord was at risk, that anybody who stood in his way would perish, that his victory seemed inevitable, and with that victory would come change and bloodshed unlike anything ever seen. That didn't just change people. It changed society. But, he couldn't expect some 11 year old, however smart, to understand that. So, he went with his second, semi-honest answer.
"I just call him the Dark Lord. No need to rock the boat. Most people lost somebody in the war, or know somebody who did. We've no need for digging up the past." He explained patiently to the girl, hoping she wouldn't turn this into a thing and ruin her reputation irreparably.
"Oh…well…okay then." She said, subsiding into an awkward silence between the two of them before Parvarti brought out a pack of Exploding Snap from her pocket.
Several hours later, a group of first years, changed into their formal robes and nursing their slightly singed hands, clambered out from the train onto Hogsmeade station, chatting amicably as they wandered towards Hagrid, who rose above the sea of students like a lighthouse.
"Oh, 'ello 'Arry!" He cried as he shone his lantern towards the scrawny boy and his new friends. "Jus' follow me, I'll lead yer to the boats." His face lit up with a big, gleeful smile as he turned around and began to join the tide of First Years heading to the boats, his bulk carving a path through the crowd that Harry and his cohort hurried in the wake of. As they reached the docks Harry couldn't help but marvel at the stunning night sky. It looked identical to the one he experienced this same day five years ago. The stars twinkled like Dumbledore's eyes, and the moon reflected off the black surface of the lake, creating a shimmering sheen that bewitched the eye.
"4 to a boat, 4 students to a boat, please!" a friendly voice boomed, as the group turned to look at one another, trying to work out who would be excised from the group.
"So…we'll obviously be together." Parvarti said, protectively holding onto her sister's hand.
Harry nodded, ready to take control of the situation. He'd had an entire train ride to think about it, after all.
"Alright, Ron, Hermione, you two go on this boat," he indicated an empty one, "and the rest of us will go on this one beside you, and we can keep people from being left out if we row side by side, yeah?"
Ron and Hermine glanced nervously at each other, as they were paired with the person who was probably their last choice to go with. Harry knew this would cause some consternation between the two of them, but, really, he didn't care all that much. With the enormity of the task in front of him, childish arguments and apprehension really didn't rate too highly on his list of concerns. Besides…he didn't want to sit with Hermione, as his companion with that pairing would be that guilty, hollow feeling in his stomach. As far as he was concerned, out of sight, out of mind was the best policy for now. Besides, who knows, maybe the two would form a friendship for the ages. He scoffed at the notion, before leading the way to the boats, as the number of free boats rapidly began to diminish.
He clambered in to the wooden craft, trying to ignore the way the boat teetered dangerously as he shifted his wait. He had always wondered about the boats. Specifically, whether any of them had ever capsized, sending their occupants into the freezing waters below. He vaguely remembered that Creepy Creevey's brother had come close to falling in, before being hauled back by one of his fellows, so he assumed it was possible. Hermione would probably know, he guessed. He'd ask afterwards. Maybe.
"Ever'body in? Alright, lets go." Hagrid's booming voice echoed over the water, and the boats lurched forward at his command. Harry didn't really listen. He was too busy staring up at the majesty of Hogwarts castle. Its sheer essence radiated power and magic, every facet of its being a marvel of magical engineering. More artefacts, tomes, and lost knowledge was contained in those walls, he suspected, than any one place in the rest of the world. Secret passageways, lost rooms, forgotten corridors, all his to explore for the next few years. In between avoiding basilisks, beating Quirrellmort, preventing the rise of the Dark Lord and ensuring Drake didn't betray him again. Perhaps, he conceded, the passageways should take a backseat for now.
Silence reigned in the boat as they drifted along the lake, as they drank in the ethereal beauty of the moment. TO Harry, it seemed as if the boat ride stretched on forever, lost in time, swallowed by the sheer wonder of this place. Although it stretched on forever, it seemed to end all too soon. As soon as the boat struck land, Harry knew. It was the end of the calm before the storm. From now on, there was only one thing that mattered. Victory.