Well, I think at this point it'd be good to forget the idea of getting loads of reviews. Ah well. For any of you who are actually reading, I hope you enjoy. And for those of you who reviewed, I'm eternally grateful. (Oh, yeah, and italics are always going to mean a flashback.)

Chapter Three: A Bad Sort

"Good luck at the Sorting, Harry!"

"Make us proud, boy."

"Bring us back a toilet seat!"

"Sirius!"

Harry watched them all call to him from the window, his mother tearful, his father proud, Sirius…well, being completely unserious. "Make us proud", his father had said. Well, of course, he was expected to be sorted into Gryffindor just like his parents and their friends had been.

The compartment door slid open. It was a boy with white-blonde hair, a boy who looked at Harry rather sneeringly. And yet when he spoke, his voice was light. "Aren't you the Potters' son?"

Harry nodded, unsure of what to say.

The blonde boy extended his hand. "I'm Draco Malfoy."

Harry didn't take it, but laughed. Years of growing up with Sirius around had taught him to laugh as much as possible, whenever possible.

"Think my name's funny, four eyes?" Malfoy snapped, his hand frozen in midair.

"Yeah, yeah I do." And Harry shook the boy's hand. Malfoy looked torn between anger and amusement. Finally, he laughed and sat down next to Harry.

The train had almost begun moving when Harry spied a gaggle of redheads, all boys with varying ages, rushing onto the train. "G'bye, Fred! G'bye, George!" called a little redheaded girl standing with her mother, who sighed in relief at making the train. The bunch of freckled boys rushed past Harry and Draco's compartment. The last of them, and the youngest, gave Harry a curious glance before exiting. Harry stared after him, then turned back to the window.

The little girl outside stared up at him with a gaze more inquisitive than that of the boys. Tentatively, she waved at him. He smiled and was about to wave back when Malfoy, who'd been eating sweets given to him by his mother, said through mouthfuls, "You don't wanna wave to her. That lot's a bad sort, you know."

"Bad sort?" The train began to move.

"Oh, yeah. Live in a pigsty. Love Muggles." The train picked up speed, leaving Platform 9 and ¾ , the little redhead girl, and Harry's parents and godfather behind.

"Urgh, no, not Muggles!" Harry, who'd had a few experiences with the horrible ones his mother was related to, gave a shudder. Who'd willingly spend time with people like that?

"The very sort. Embarrassing, isn't it?" Malfoy licked his fingers of sugar. "So, what house are you hoping to get into? I want Slytherin."

"My parents…well, they're—"

The compartment door slid open, and Harry was thankfully saved from explaining his Gryffindor heritage to his only new friend. A girl with a lot of brown hair and large teeth stood there, a bossy air about her. She looked at them expectantly. After a moment she asked, "Well? Have you got it?"

Harry and Malfoy looked at each other in confusion for a second, then Malfoy asked, "Got what?"

"The turtle," she replied eagerly. "You know, the one that can fly."

The boys shared another quick glance, this one of amusement. Then Malfoy burst out laughing.

"What? Haven't you got it? The girls in my compartment, they said you had one and you were showing it to everyone and that I should go see it right away—oh." The girl finished off her rapid prattle with an embarrassed expression. Her face reddened and her eyes fell for a moment, then she quickly regained her composure. "Well, er, I can't waste my time here then. I've got a lot of…of books to read."

Harry rolled his eyes at the girl's retreating back, thinking they'd seen the last of her for now, but Malfoy had other ideas.

"You're a Mudblood, aren't you?" he called to her.

"A what?" She turned around.

"Muggleborn. Only a Mudblood would be that excited to see a flying turtle."

The girl glared at him. "Yes, I am. So what?" she asked shrilly.

Malfoy sniggered. "Oh, nothing. Best run off now, Mudblood." The girl walked away furiously. Malfoy turned to Harry, eager to laugh about her with him, but only received a punch on the arm. "What was that for?" he hissed.

"Manners."

"What?"

"You shouldn't call them that."

"Why the bloody not?"

"Because my mum told me it's impolite," Harry replied calmly.

"Well, your mum would…"

"Oh, stuff yourself, Malfoy."

"They haven't got any right to be here—they're not really magic—"

"Anyone who says my mum isn't really magic hasn't ever been Scourgified by her," Harry assured him firmly. "Besides, you could get in trouble for that kind of talk. My parents say it died out with You-Know-Who."

Malfoy said nothing, but looked out the window. Harry wondered how to ease the mood, and decided upon elbowing Malfoy in the side. When the blonde boy turned to him, Harry grinned and said, "I think I'm going to have to teach you etiquette on top of everything else, aren't I?"

Malfoy couldn't help but chuckle.

The train sped past the Muggle buildings and into rolling green hills already covered in a light scattering of golden autumn leaves.

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There you go. Sorry--for some reason, it wouldn't change the third-to-last paragraph to italics, no matter how many times I editted it. Oh yeah, and remember how I said I'm giving up on reviews? I completely lied. I am a shameless review slut.

(No more chapters until I get at least five reviews on this. I mean that, firmly. Hmph. I see you, Mr. Reader-sans-Reviewer. Don't think I don't see you, little whippersnapper.)

Ahem…..REVIEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!