Draco had been watching Potter ever since he had crossed onto the platform nine and three quarters. Though he wanted to hex his nemesis into next week for almost managing to get his father sent to Azkaban with a life sentence, he couldn't help but notice something wasn't quite right.
He tuned out his father and the Parkinsons, leaning towards Pansy and nudging her with his elbow. There was something about Harry Potter that was definitely off, such as the way he was favouring his left leg and the almost imperceptible blurriness around his body.
His mind ran to Theodore Nott, the quiet boy in his year Draco had had never spoked to until two years ago. He clearly remembered Theo having the same unfocused outline during the first four years of school. After all, he had invested a lot of his time trying to find out what the weedy boy was hiding. For that reason both he and Pansy immediately recognized the side-effect of a glamour.
Draco's silver eyes sharpened as he followed Potter's movements, "I wonder what he needs a glamour for." he wondered, sharing a concerned look with his childhood friend.
The memory of what he had seen when he, Pansy and Blaise had cornered Theo after class and taken down his glamour would probably be burned in his mind forever.
But then he shook his head, mentally kicking himself for sounding so worried when it came to the Boy-Who-Lived. What did he care if Potter went and got himself killed? He should be happy, if that were the case.
Pansy murmured an agreement, "Have you read the papers this summer? I almost feel sorry for him."
"And believe me, it'll only get worse." Blaise's voice muttered from behind him.
Draco almost jumped in fright when his Italian friend put a hand on his shoulder and smiled slyly at Pansy.
"What do you mean?" asked Pansy.
Blaise sighed, letting his hand fall from Draco's shoulder, "Let's go find a compartment before they all fill up, I'll tell you once the others have joined us."
Draco could only nod once before following him onto the train. He spared one glance for his father, but he was so deep in conversation with the Parkinsons he didn't even realize his son was leaving. Any other time that would have bothered him greatly, but not this once, since he would be seeing him again this evening.
Theo and Millicent met up with them just as they were boarding the train. Draco looked attentively at him, but for once it seemed his housemate was able to at least hold himself up without any help. It was more than other years. It probably had something to do with the fact that his father was safely locked up in Azkaban and in no position to hurt anybody.
"Hey guys. How was summer?" Theo asked in an unusual cheery voice.
Blaise shrugged while looking for a place to sit, "Nothing special. Have you been reading the Daily Prophet?"
"Sure, why? Here, I think this one might be empty." Theo said, gesturing to a silent compartment.
Blaise stepped forwards to open the door, but it wouldn't bulge.
He frowned, taking his wand out, "Alohomora." The door slid open with a satisfying click.
Draco peered over Pansy's shoulder when Blaise raised an elegant eyebrow instead of entering. It didn't happen often to see his usually impassible friend so surprised.
He glanced inside the compartment and was greeted by the strangest sight. Harry bloody Potter was sitting alone, looking as if he didn't know whether he should cry or throttle someone. His Transfiguration book was all but forgotten next to him as he stared out of the window.
The Slytherins shared an uneasy look between them. It was the first time they had ever seen him without the weasel and the mudblood.
Theo cleared his throat loudly to catch Potter's attention, only to find himself with a wand pointed to his chest and huge green eyes boring into his.
Millicent moved in front of Theo, frowning when Potter's wand followed her every movement, "Hey now, we won't try anything, you can put your wand down."
Harry snorted angrily, eyes shifting warily between them with a defensive attitude, "Like I believe you. Get the hell out of here before I kick you out myself."
Draco couldn't resist an undignified scoff before shoving Nott and Pansy out of the way and planting himself in front of his rival: "Knock it off, Potter."
Whatever reaction he had expected, the small smile that grazed Potter's lips was not it. The wand lowered slightly as Potter looked attentively at him, a pensive look in his eyes, "Malfoy."
Thought Potter's reaction confused him, he didn't let it show on his face as he haughtily made his way into the compartment and sat in front of the raven haired boy.
Blaise looked at Draco and mentally shrugged. He didn't care for Potter, but he didn't hate him, and if Draco wanted to sit with him he would follow suit.
Slowly, some more hesitant than others, all five Slytherins occupied the seats around the Gryffindor. Draco almost laughed out loud at Harry's puzzled expression, the slow blinking of his eyes and the half-open mouth, but instead opted for his usual sneer, "Close your mouth or you'll catch flies."
Harry really couldn't help but stare at Malfoy, even as he sat down. This situation was like a dream -maybe nightmare was more like it- he couldn't get rid of, and it just kept getting stranger and stranger.
He recognized Millicent Bulstrode from the polyjuice incident with Hermione during the second year and he had seen Blaise Zabini here and there at Hogwarts, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember Nott's name.
The boy must have seen his inquiring gaze because he offered an awkward smile, "I don't think we've ever been properly introduced. I'm Theodore Nott."
Harry briefly returned his smile, not bothering to tell him his name - since he obviously knew who he was - and shifted uncomfortably in his seat: "So, what are you doing here?"
Draco scoffed, leaning down on the seats so that his head was lying on Pansy's lap and his legs on Blaise's, and looking extremely comfortable: "What do you think we're doing, Potter? I'd think even you could understand a simple concept as sitting."
Harry's eyes narrowed again, closing off from any emotion: "Don't make a racket and we'll get along just fine." he replied, picking his Transfiguration book up again and turning his gaze to it.
There were several minutes of silence, during which the Slytherins observed as closely as humanly possible the very slightly blurred outlines of their Gryffindor companion, who, in turn, occupied himself with reading the complicated process to turning a hot-blooded animal into an object and turning it back without killing it.
Then Draco decided it was time to break the quiet atmosphere: "Oi, Potter, what are you reading?"
The raven paused in him reading, raising his head and blinking quizzically at his long-time rival: "The importance of intent in Untransfiguration."
Harry fought against the amused snort that almost managed to come from his mouth at the befuddled expression of Draco and the girls, who clearly didn't have the slightest idea of what he was talking about.
Then he saw Blaise stand a little bit straighter and his face lighting up: "Really? Have you had any luck in it? I've been trying with reptiles and fish for ages, but I still haven't managed to keep them alive, they all seem to die because they're missing their internal organs."
"Uh, well, I'm having some trouble with the bigger mammals like cats, but for the rest I've had no such problems. You should try studying the internal anatomy of the animal you want to transform, it helps a lot."
Blaise seemed to consider that piece of advice with a glint of something unreadable in his expression: "You know, you're not so bad for a half-blood."
"Was that supposed to be a compliment?" asked Pansy, looking really confused.
Blaise shrugged uncaring, slumping back on the seat: "Take as you like, it's not as if I care."
Draco rolled his eyes at the rebuttal of his so-called friend: "Whatever Blaise. But I didn't realize you were so advanced in Transfiguration, Potter, since I remember perfectly well you were having a lot of problems with Vanishing."
"I still do. But Untransfiguration is much easier, you know."
Nott scoffed, brushing a hand through his hair and turning his nose upwards in a pureblood fashion: "As if. I know for a fact that Untransfiguration is a N.E.W.T.s level skill, and Blaise is only able to master it because he's, like, a genius."
A glint in Blaise's eyes told Harry he was definitely amused by his friend's answer: "Just because you're crap at Transfiguration doesn't mean we all are."
"Mind your manners Blaise, at least when we are in the presence of Gryffindors. You never know what rumours they could spread around the school." drawled Draco, smirking lightly when Blaise shot him a playful glare.
"You're just as bad as him, you know? You aren't even able to do a simple summoning charm."
Millicent grinned roguishly: "Hey, at least we can brew a Shrinking Solution."
Harry briefly closed his eyes, soundlessly sighing. It pained him deeply to watch their friendly banter, especially now that it seemed his own friends had turned away from him.
He tried to reign in the explosion of jealousy and irritation that spread through his body, but in the end couldn't manage to stop himself from snapping at them to shut up.
The rest of the ride was spent in silence on his part, while the Slytherins talked about summer assignments and lessons.
Harry sighed miserably, looking down at his lap. Around him the Gryffindor table was loudly chattering, trading stories on their respective summers, while he was nervously fidgeting in a corner of the table. He had tried talking to Ron and Hermione before they found a carriage, but they had completely ignored him until he had conceded defeat and found an empty carriage of his own.
He cringed when a group of second years who had been quietly talking a few seats away raised their heads and paled drastically, resuming their discussion with even more heated tones.
It wasn't so far-fetched to assume they were speaking about him.
Harry sighed again, closing his eyes and absent-mindedly rubbing his scar. The action drew a gasp from a clutter of older girls who were sitting nearest to him, and he withdrew his hand as if he had been burned before lightly blushing. It was clear he would have to watch himself this year, a wrong step could easily have him thrown out of the school, or worse, even shipped off to Azkaban.
The worse thing was, he had absolutely no idea of what lies the Prophet had sprouted to make the school react in that manner. And to think he had naively imagined it couldn't get worse than last year.
Thankfully in that moment Professor McGonagall entered the Great Hall followed by the tiny first years, who looked around in awe. He chuckled, a tinge of bitterness present in the sound, as he remembered when he had been in their place, standing next to Ron while silently freaking out because Ron had told him they would have to fight a troll.
Oh, how things had changed since then...
Minerva McGonagall stood next to the stool, Sorting Hand in one hand and a parchment with a list of names on it. She cleared her throat, catching the attention of most of the students, and glared at the ones who ignored her in favour of chatting with their friends.
When silence had been restored in the Great Hall she swept her eyes across the four tables once again and opened her mouth.
"Allen, Thomas."
A scrawny boy stumbled forwards with a terrified expression, visibly shaking while he sat on the stool. She let the hat fall on his head, obscuring his face from view.
A couple of seconds later, the Sorting Hat yelled out for the whole room to hear: "RAVENCLAW."
The Sorting went on, and Harry found himself bored to death, wishing they would get a move and serve food already. He was starving.
But after Poke Royce made his way to the Hufflepuff table, Professor McGonagall abruptly stopped speaking. All the students that were about to fall asleep in their plates suddenly felt much more lively, and stared at their Transfiguration teacher, wondering what the problem was.
On his part, Harry had an oncoming feeling of dread he couldn't shake off. It was the same he'd had last year while wondering through the Department of Mysteries, after finding out Ginny had disappeared back in second year, when Professor Lupin had transformed and Wormtail had managed to escape. It was the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong, and he couldn't do a thing to stop it.
He could only watch as Professor McGonagall turned deathly white, her features incredulous, and turned sharply towards Dumbledore, leaning across the table to speak with him.
She stretched the parchment in between them, pointing at a name and whispering furiously. And Harry couldn't do anything to stop the sinking feeling in his stomach when the twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes dimmed and his smile disappeared.
They seemed to reach an agreement, because McGonagall nodded and turned back to face the students, though she didn't exactly conceal the troubled expression on her face: "Potter, Harry."
In a first moment Harry didn't even realize it was his name that was being called, and scanned the remaining first years to see who would step forward.
Then he repeated the name to himself, wondering why it sounded so familiar. His eyes widened when it finally dawned on him that there was no first year named Harry Potter, because it was him.
"Mr Potter, please step up." the Transfiguration teacher called, looking for her lion at the Gryffindor table.
His heart plummeted, and suddenly, he knew. He knew why he was being called up there for a second time. His time with the Gryffindors was up.
Harry got up automatically, so dazed he didn't see the frowns and disgusted expressions at the Gryffindor table, the scared Hufflepuffs cringing as he passed by, the Ravenclaws speculating on the new development, the assessing and calculating gazes of the Slytherins.
Before he could even realize it, he was sitting on the stool and the Sorting Hat was sitting on his head.
'Ah, Mr Potter. I see you know why you've been called here today.'
Harry choked back a sob, fingers curling around the edges of the stool, 'Please, you can't do this.'
'Why not? I won't deny that Gryffindor's done you good, but it isn't fit for you any longer.'
'Please, not Slytherin. Please, put me where you want, but not Slytherin.'
He could almost feel the Hat's frown, 'Say boy, why are you so against Slytherin?'
'They'll gut me! I won't survive the night.'
'Sorry Mr Potter, you only get one freebie. Believe me, you'll fit in in no time at all.'
'But-but...'
"SLYTHERIN!" called out the Sorting Hat.
A/N: Thank you so much for all of you wonderful reviews, I really loved them!
