MEMORY VIAL 2: RIFT IN THE RAILWAY CARRIAGE (YEAR 1)

Draco's mind was awhirl when he heard that Harry Potter was on the same train to Hogwarts as him and that they were both supposed to be first-year students. Not to mention, he was certain he had met the famous boy at Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions—at least according to the description that was circulating up and down the railway carts.

Messy mop of black hair, round spectacles, brilliant green eyes. Sounded familiar enough. Although Malfoy had added that "brilliant" part to the description himself, since Harry's eyes did seem to shine with their own light in an uncanny sort of way…

He had failed to notice the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead, however, because his messy fringe had been covering it. But he was anxious to get a peek at it—to be that close and see the Dark wizard's handiwork for himself.

With Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle sitting opposite him in the same train compartment, Malfoy roped them in to help brainstorm how he should reintroduce himself.

"No wonder he was so quiet when I was talking to him," Malfoy said, feeling flustered. "If that was really him, I mean. I had assumed he was rushing off to meet his parents somewhere, but his parents are dead, so of course he wouldn't want to just blurt that out all matter-of-fact like that. No wonder he was alone… My parents were off doing some of the shopping for me, so I just assumed it was the same for him. But it's hard to think he was all alone, figuring everything out for himself—which is unacceptable, if you ask me.

"No, indeed. I have decided to become his friend and teach him everything there is to know. If I had known back then, I would've insisted that he stick with me and my parents until we were both done getting all our school supplies."

But then it struck him. "Oh, my parents…" Malfoy scrunched his features into a thoughtful scowl, while Crabbe and Goyle still had yet to say anything. "I forgot that they were forced to work for You-Know-Who…" His rapid-fire speech slowed to its usual stuck-up drawl, but there was a twinge of self-doubt in the cadence of his voice now. "…But that's all water under the bridge now, right? Considering they were under the Dark wizard's curse. The Wizengamot unanimously voted to acquit them, so I don't think there would be any bad blood between them now. Harry Potter is probably more powerful than You-Know-Who was at this point, since he really did survive being killed by him. But no one knows how…" He bit the inside of his cheek while Crabbe and Goyle nodded with their usual agreement. "Perhaps I can convince Harry to explain it. My parents would love to hear how he did it, and—"

Malfoy chewed his bottom lip, trying to work out what all of this could mean, and how he could bring Harry into his circle of friends. He hoped he would be sorted into Slytherin. Then he would have plenty of time to establish a firm relationship.

"We could go find him on the train right now," Goyle said, eager to meet the famous boy as well. "Get to him before anyone else tries to make friends with him—right?"

"Good plan, Goyle." Malfoy nodded. "It wouldn't do if someone else got to him first. Wouldn't want him making friends with the wrong sort of witch or wizard. Not to mention I'm in the market for a new best friend, and he would certainly fit the bill."

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged hesitant glances. Ever since they had been toddlers, they had always assumed Malfoy considered them to be his best friends. But now it seemed that the famous Harry Potter could be a threat, if they didn't make sure he understood his place among their crew.

"When I become friends with him," Malfoy continued, "and after we get to know each other a bit more—I think I might apologize for what my parents did, you know? Not that they need apologizing for, but it might win his trust even more, and maybe he'll share even more personal things about himself to me, which I can use to hopefully get closer, and then maybe—"

"You'll get to kiss him by the Pairing Tree with your names carved into it?" The tinny voice had come from the open door.

Malfoy glared at a tall girl with dark cropped hair and blocky bangs. She was beaming down at Malfoy as if he should know better than to be thinking about anyone besides her.

"Pansy," Malfoy said by way of greeting.

"I'm concerned, Draco." She sneered at his two bodyguards as she closed the compartment door and plopped onto the seat beside him. "You're obsessed over someone you haven't properly met—and a boy no less."

Malfoy managed to not stammer, but missed a beat. His ears felt warm, but he quickly regained his composure. "If you're trying to infer I'm one of those, then let me assure you that isn't the case. But if you expect me to choose between kissing you or snogging Harry Potter in front of the whole school, well… I hate to disappoint you."

Crabbe choked on a mouthful of piggish laughter. If there was one thing he admired about Draco Malfoy, it was the cruelty of his insults.

"Savage," Goyle muttered with a nasty grin.

"You should be careful saying things like that." Pansy clenched her fists into her black robe. "If your father hears—"

"My father will be the first to know about the witch who 'bent my wand,' as it were." Malfoy sneered at her. "And that's if he doesn't already realize it was just a stupid joke."

"You won't avoid it," Crabbe said as he leaned across the way at Pansy. "His father hears about everything."

When Crabbe straightened again, he became very aware of the repulsed way Malfoy was looking at him. "S-sorry… but… it is true… There isn't a thing that goes on that Mr. Malfoy doesn't hear about somehow, but that's usually because you tell him."

"Call me a gossip again, Crabbe, and I'll have your teeth for my first Potions class."

Crabbe swallowed nervously, while Pansy decided she had an opportunity to gain a bit of favor right now with Malfoy.

"If you want to see Harry Potter so badly, he's at the back of the train," she said.

Malfoy's dark brow lightened somewhat. He glanced between Crabbe and Goyle, lips slowly spreading into a smile. "He'll make a great ally, is all I'm saying. And for being as great as he is—yet raised by Muggles?" He scoffed. "Harry needs me. My father would snap my wand in half if I didn't at least try."

Malfoy stood before Pansy could say anything to the contrary—even she knew Mr. Malfoy would not approve. He opened the compartment door with a curt signal for Crabbe and Goyle to both follow, but Pansy couldn't help tiptoeing to the back of the train along with them.

She stood a few feet back, while Malfoy opened every compartment door in the last cart of the train. When he finally found the boy he had met at Madam Malkin's place one month prior, he shoved the door wider, then said, "Hello, again." There was that warm, nagging feeling in his chest again… The famous wizard really must have cast an impractical spell on him.

"H-hi," said the black-haired boy, just as shy as he remembered.

Harry was sitting with another student, but Malfoy made an effort to not notice him. "If I had known who you were," he started to say, but then realized he was dangerously close to fawning. "I mean… it explains why you didn't have much to say."

"Who's that?" the other student asked Harry, his freckled nose wrinkling in confusion.

Harry smiled at Malfoy awkwardly, and was about to introduce him when the blond boy cut in. "Malfoy," he answered, while drawing back his shoulders. "My name's Draco Malfoy…"

The freckled boy snickered and then covered his mouth.

Malfoy's face reddened slightly when he noticed the way Harry seemed to be smiling along with the other student who had just laughed. The wonderful glowing sensation in his chest flared into an erratic heat.

"Think my name's funny, do you?" He sneered, switching tact to preserve his wounded ego. "Well, I certainly don't have to ask your name." He gave the boy a ruthless once-over. "Red hair. Hand-me-down robes. You must be a Weasley…"

"Cut it out, Malfoy," Harry replied.

Malfoy cast a surprised glance at Harry. No one had ever dared to command him like that except his father.

"His name is Ron," Harry went on, making an attempt to sound civil. "Ron, this is Draco Malfoy, the first wizard that I met my age in Diagon Alley."

"I know who he is," Ron grumbled sulkily as he sank back into the seat cushion. "The name Malfoy is almost as well-known as you are."

"There you go, Harry." Malfoy was beaming from ear to ear. "From Weasley's own mouth, it goes without saying we would make good friends." Crossing the threshold, he extended a pale hand.

Harry stared at it for a long while, vaguely discerning as to what was being asked of him.

"We have our own compartment towards the middle of the train," Malfoy said, hoping to pressure Harry into action. He was feeling less confident now, since Harry did not seem too impressed at the way Malfoy had asserted himself. "Got my two friends Crabbe and Goyle here as well, so you won't need to carry your luggage."

"You're asking me to move?" Harry realized. He looked down at Draco's hand again, doing his best to consider the repercussions. "…Can Ron come, too?"

Malfoy's eyes darted toward the redhead, and Harry refused to believe the flicker that he noticed in them was jealousy.

"I think you've misunderstood what I was inviting you for, Harry," Malfoy went on to explain. "There's something you should know since you are new to the wizarding world. Some wizarding families are better than others, you see, and the sooner you realize that, the better off you'll be. The Weasleys may be purebloods, but they're an embarrassment to be around; they're the wrong sort of wizards to be hanging out with." Having said that, Malfoy again offered his hand. "I can help you figure all that out, though. My father is in touch with all the best families, and I will already know who is worth being around at school."

Harry very decisively did not accept Malfoy's hand this time. "Thanks, but no thanks, Malfoy. I'd prefer to stay here. Ron is my friend, and I think I can already tell the bad sort of wizard for myself."

Pansy listened to the ensuing confrontation on tenterhooks. The hair on her nape stood up on end when she heard the way Harry had argued back.

Malfoy's face gradually went pink. He was speechless. The hot coals that had been warming in his chest this whole time suddenly evaporated into ice.

Harry noticed the transition in Malfoy's expression at once. He stood his ground, however, maintaining eye contact.

Humiliated, Malfoy withdrew his hand. He cleared his throat and took one careful step backward. "You better be careful, Potter… Your parents didn't know what was best for them, either. You need someone to help you. Remember that."

"I have plenty of help already. Hagrid taught me everything I need to know up till now, and my friend Ron here is from a friendly wizarding family, so I know that he can only show me more. You've asked me to choose between him and you, Malfoy; if I can't be friends with both of you at the same time, then maybe we shouldn't be friends…" He hoped he wouldn't regret saying those words.

Malfoy went pale at that. It was as if ice had been poured over him. His lips grew thin, and he was at a loss of what to say to redeem the moment. No one had ever treated him like this. No one had ever refused him the thing he wanted, and no one had ever made him feel so inferior—as if a loser like the Weasley boy was preferable to him.

"You are going to regret those words…"

Harry felt a little crack somewhere in his chest, and his heart began to beat faster.

"Sounds like projection, mate," Ron couldn't help saying out loud. He didn't quite know what that meant, but it was something his father was always saying.

"What was that?" Malfoy shouted at him. "You want to fight now, you mangy dog? Or are you all bark and no bite."

Pansy wrung her robes out in the corridor as she watched the argument degenerate into foul language. Next thing she knew, Malfoy and Harry were shouting at each other, and Crabbe and Goyle were rushing the door to protect Malfoy.

"Ron—don't. They aren't worth it," Pansy heard Harry say. Evidently, he was attempting to referee whatever was going on.

There was a howl, followed by Malfoy and Crabbe stumbling out of the compartment. Malfoy's profile was wrung into a hideous scowl; pink tinged the apples of his cheeks. Pansy fumbled out of the way when he whirled around and tramped heavily back up the corridor. There was rage in his eyes from what she had glimpsed, but also a mawkishly despondent curl on his bottom lip.

Goyle emerged from the compartment at last, sucking blood from his knuckle and wiping tears out from his eyes. "It bit me!" he said in disbelief, following Malfoy and Crabbe back up the train. "Ought to report that bloody rat, I ought to!"

Pansy tried to keep up with the three boys, but Malfoy was so far ahead, shoving students out of the way as he passed, that none of them could keep pace.

When Pansy finally craned her neck over the threshold of their compartment, Malfoy was sulking furiously out the window.

"I don't get it," he said, as Pansy yanked the compartment door shut. There was a quaver in his voice that wasn't tears but disbelief. "Potter chose that redheaded loser over me… when he needs me." He kicked at nothing in particular, but accidentally hit Goyle on the shin, who hollered a second time and rubbed at the fresh bruise. "Damn it. We should've moved quicker… before that weasel boy got ahead of us."

Malfoy glared thoughtfully out the window as Pansy scooted to sit next to him. After several minutes, she mustered the courage to suck in a breath and say, "Guess you won't be snogging Potter any time soon, will you?"

The withering look Malfoy gave her then made Pansy shrink into the corner of the seat and go deadly silent.

Malfoy returned to brooding out the window. He was sure Harry would eventually come to realize that he needed him one day. And the day that Harry finally realized what an incredible ally he had given up for the sake of a red weasel—well… he figured even Pansy wouldn't be laughing anymore.

"Malfoy," Pansy said eventually. There was hurt in the tone of her voice.

"Shut up. I'd rather kiss stupid Harry Potter than listen to another thing you have to say."

Silence fell in the compartment, and even Crabbe had nothing to say to that. Malfoy was clearly beside himself, and his friends figured it would be best to let him cool off for the duration of the trip.

Pansy bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying, but couldn't help it. Tears coursed down her cheeks, and she wiped at them, but none of the boys so much as glanced at her, since her crying only made them feel uncomfortable.

Malfoy ignored her when she sniffed feebly, then rose from her seat. She left the compartment, but all Malfoy could think about were the jade green trees racing outside beyond the windows, and their uneven jagged branches, their untidy blackish bark, and—

Stupid Harry Potter.

Harry was surprised that Draco Malfoy had managed to make himself even more unpleasant than the first time they had met. He likened the snob's behavior to his porkish cousin Dudley.

And yet, unlike with his cousin, Harry wanted to impress him all the same…

He rubbed at his chest where the cracking sensation had occurred, but everything felt fine. There was a faint sense of hollowness behind his ribs, but he couldn't account for it since it didn't seem like anything was physically wrong.

From that day forward, he found himself trapped in a cycle of forever worrying about what Malfoy thought of him. If his robes were slightly off-kilter in front of the perfectly preened boy, he readjusted them; if his hair was sticking out, as his hair always did, he mopped the cowlicks down as best he could; if he didn't answer a question correctly when a professor called on him during class, his faced burned scarlet from imagining what Malfoy must be thinking of him.

"You really are nothing special, just like you said," Harry imagined him saying with a cruel smirk.

If Malfoy only hadn't decided to take a side swipe at his new friend, Ron, he might have almost accepted his hand—with due caution, of course…

But he didn't like the idea of giving up one friendship for another, especially since Malfoy had yet to make Harry feel safe and accepted like Ron had done.

If Ron only hadn't snickered at his name… then maybe Malfoy wouldn't have gotten so hostile or felt so threatened and reacted the way he did. Maybe he would have tolerated Ron.

If any or all of the above requirements had been met, then perhaps Harry would have followed Malfoy to his compartment for at least the last half of the trip.

He wondered about what stories Malfoy would have told him, but Ron was already filling Harry in about the entire Malfoy family and their association with You-Know-Who. Harry stared, wide-eyed, as Ron described the controversial circumstances of Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy being acquitted of the charges bearing down on them for serving the Dark wizard.

Harry wondered about the other boy's motives for trying to befriend him. If the Malfoy family had been bewitched to carry out the Dark wizard's orders against their wills, then he didn't want to hold it against Draco Malfoy unfairly, even if he often acted like an insufferable bully.

But if his parents had willingly joined Voldemort…

Harry had no idea what to make of it. It didn't seem fair to judge a child for the rotten tree that it sprang out of. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were constantly judging him because of his parents, and not even because they ever did anything bad, of course, but because of their own insular assumptions.

Harry figured it was reasonable to stay guarded against committing to the same prejudice as them. He believed that good could be fostered in anyone, regardless of where they came from. But if Malfoy was being raised to act like a rotten bully—to hate Muggles and whoever else he perceived to be inferior wizards—then he needed someone to show him differently from what his parents had always taught him. He needed a good influence, but Harry didn't think he was up to the task. The last thing he wanted was to feel responsible for someone who was that narrow-minded. After all, it would only be a waste of time. Nothing good would come of it.

But if Harry could talk friendly to snakes, then perhaps there might be a way to talk friendly to bullies?

No, he thought. What a stupid idea… Malfoy is an idiot, and he isn't worth any of my time.

Hours later, when they got off the train and followed Hagrid down a steep path out of Hogsmeade Station, Malfoy made a point of shoving past Harry and glaring back at him. "Watch where you're going, Potter…"

From then on, Malfoy made a few attempts at sabotaging Harry's activities by stalking him around the school grounds whenever he suspected Harry was up to something. He often shoved him aside in the hallways and laughed at his failures in and outside of class. He shouted disparaging pet-names at him whenever they happened to be within earshot of each other—and aside from getting shoved around, Harry was just glad Malfoy never laid a hand on him like how his cousin Dudley used to.

One of the highlights of Malfoy's schoolyear was when he faced off with Harry atop their broomsticks over Neville Longbottom's Remembrall. He felt nothing but exhilaration at the time, hoarding the Gryffindor boy's attention all to himself while they were breaking Madam Hooch's direct orders to stay grounded.

When Harry got called out of class by Professor McGonagall for catching Neville's Remembrall, Draco had hoped he'd get in just enough trouble to understand that he had chosen the wrong crowd of wizards to associate with.

He was stunned—and envious—when he found out that Harry had been granted the position of Seeker on Gryffindor's Quidditch team…

Malfoy hated to admit it, but he also loved it when he got landed in detention with Harry and Neville in the Forbidden Forest. Nothing of great significance happened between them when Hagrid paired him with Harry and Fang to search the forest on their own. But he felt that same exhilaration as when they had been atop their brooms, feeding off each other's quips and heated threats.

While they tramped through the forest, Draco hoped Harry would get scared enough to do something girly that he could make fun of, such as press into him for comfort, or cling to his sleeve—or at least confess he had made a mistake back on the train. He considered berating Harry for not making it into Slytherin at the Sorting Ceremony, but he didn't want the boy to think that he was pining for his friendship.

Being alone with Harry was enough, he supposed—which he realized was a strange thought for him to have… But he felt so dizzy with fear and excitement next to Harry that it was difficult for him to disassociate those feelings from the other boy. They got to explore the Forbidden Forest alone together, without a chaperon, and very few students could boast of having done something like that.

"Malfoy," Harry said, striking up a conversation when their petty arguing had died down. "Remember when we first met, you mentioned something about Professor Dumbledore being bent…?"

"Yeah." Malfoy shuddered at something moving in the trees behind them. Frowning anxiously, he glanced at Harry. "What about it?"

"Well… I figured… you and I are alone right now, wouldn't you say?"

Draco sucked in a breath when Harry crashed into his shoulder. They both stopped and Harry looked at him inquiringly. Draco couldn't help but swallow dryly. "Right… so what?"

"You said you would explain what you meant by 'bent.'"

Relieved, Draco sighed, then scratched behind his ear. "Oh, right…" He continued to walk while holding the lantern, leaving Harry to scamper after him when he noticed a shadow moving somewhere in the distance.

Draco was startled at the sound of his pacing, then turned around, knocking shoulders with Harry again when he caught up. Harry snatched him by the loose part of his sleeve, whirling briefly around to look back, but saying nothing.

Draco pretended to not notice, and he forced a scowl to bury the smile that threatened to unearth itself. "Uh… What I meant is that Professor Dumbledore fancies blokes."

"What do you mean?"

Harry tugged slightly, but Draco grimaced and still pretended to not notice. "It means he's a bloody queer. He'd rather shag guys instead of girls, which is disgusting if you ask me."

Harry went silent for a while. After a minute of checking around them for the shadow that he had seen, he moved closer to Draco and then said, "That's supposed to be bad?"

Draco scoffed as hard as he could. "Of course it's supposed to be bad. What do you think? Why, if I was bent, my father would probably grab me by the neck and…" His words dropped off at the hunched figure that came into view in front of them.

At last, they had come upon the hooded monster and unicorn they had been looking for, but rather than send up sparks to signal Hagrid and Neville to come find them, Malfoy turned to run with Fang, believing that Harry was still hanging onto his robe and was running at his heels.

When Malfoy eventually crashed into Hagrid, only to discover that Harry was not with him, Malfoy panicked. "He was—right here," he mumbled in shock to Hagrid. "I thought—I thought he was behind me!" He whirled around. We have to go back, he wanted to say.

But then he realized what going back meant. It meant facing that awful monster, who likely had already killed his supposed-to-be-friend by now…

When they found Harry alive, it was all Malfoy could do to keep himself from collapsing to the ground. Alive, he thought, Thank God… And he was only vaguely aware of what Hagrid did with the dead unicorn, because Harry was staring at him while ignoring Neville's effusively sycophantic comments.

Malfoy couldn't break the eye contact, but then was forced to when Hagrid rallied everyone back toward the path. His heart was ramming in his chest, and he was amazed at how weak he felt, now that the adrenaline had passed.

He would have pulled Harry along during his retreat, if he had only known the boy was frozen to the spot. Malfoy told him so on their way back to the school: "I would've pulled you along if I had known…"

Harry only glanced sideways at him, his green eyes shining in the reflection of the lantern's light. After a while, he said, "Why didn't you tell any of the teachers about the dragon, before we all got in trouble for wandering around the school?"

Malfoy said nothing. The truth was, even though he had tried to rat Harry out when Professor McGonagall had found him hiding near the tallest tower, he had panicked and didn't really want Harry to get in that much trouble, otherwise he would have done so from the very beginning. As things were, he was glad no one had found out about the dragon because Harry could have been expelled for carrying it around.

When they gained the school grounds, Harry looked at him one more time without a shred of hostility, then said, "Good night, Malfoy."

They parted ways, and Draco could think of nothing else except the other boy and what had almost happened to him.

Malfoy kept at a chary distance from then on, but continued to jeer and tease Harry whenever he saw him.

Harry learned to stay relatively silent after their shared excursion in the Forbidden Forest. Harry had plenty to tease Malfoy about in front of the whole school now, given how scared he had been during detention. But for some reason, exposing Malfoy like that felt like it would be a breach of some sort of tacit agreement they shared between themselves. After all, they had both experienced a brush with death and had shown themselves to be quite vulnerable with each other; but even Malfoy never once gossiped about Harry grabbing at his sleeve or freezing into place, even though it would have been the easiest thing for him to do.

Harry was also reasonably certain no one had ever seen or studied the behavioral ticks that Malfoy adopted when he was that scared. He liked that he was probably the only one who had seen him like that, with his forehead wrinkled with worry, voice choked with anxiety, and how he kept swerving closer to Harry, all the while trying to act tough… It made him smile.

At the end of the school year, when Draco heard the rumors about Harry facing off against the Dark wizard again—and winning—he sulked more than ever before.

Not that he wasn't happy that The Boy Who Lived had survived yet another attack. But he was angry that he hadn't been there to help, like Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley had been.

And with the Slytherins' win of the House Cup being swept out from under their feet due to Harry's triumph—it felt like the universe was taunting him for his failure to get Harry sorted into his House.

Nothing had gone well for Draco all year, and he felt more distant from the boy he wanted as a friend more than anyone else. He really had believed Harry would need him, but he had managed to succeed in everything without him so far. Everything went right for The Golden Boy, so that he was still more famous to the other students than ever before…

And Hermione and Ron were always sitting beside him, pawing at his sleeves, hugging him, being a part of every victory that he clinched.

"Congratulations, Potter," Malfoy whispered to himself during the train ride home. He considered saying it to his face, but was unable to overcome the shame he felt for not gaining Harry's respect at all that year.