Chapter Two
The Black Taxi came to a halt in front of the station at 10:30, its engine humming softly as it idled. The scent of exhaust mingled with the crisp morning air, tinged with a hint of rain that threatened to fall at any moment. Harry stepped out onto the pavement, his feet meeting the cold, slightly damp ground, and helped Hermione as she climbed out behind him. The rough fabric of her sleeve brushed against his hand, warm from the taxi's heater.
Nearby, Mrs. Weasley fumbled in her bag, her fingers rustling through the worn leather as she retrieved some coins to pay the driver. The jingle of change echoed in the otherwise quiet street. Harry caught a whiff of Mrs. Weasley's familiar lavender perfume as she leaned closer to the driver, handing him the money with a quick "Thank you." The driver's muttered response was drowned out by the sound of Bill and Charlie unloading the luggage from the boot. The heavy thud of the trunks hitting the ground sent a slight vibration up Harry's legs, and he heard Bill's deep voice commenting on the weight.
"Mum must've packed half the house," Charlie joked, his voice carrying a chuckle that made Harry smile. The smell of old leather and polish from the trunks mixed with the fresh scent of the station, a stark contrast that made Harry's nose wrinkle slightly.
Mrs. Weasley finally gathered everyone together, herding them like a mother hen with a wave of her arm. The rough texture of the tickets pressed into Harry's hand as she passed them out, the paper crisp and cool against his fingers.
"Now, you all behave yourselves, especially you three," Mrs. Weasley said, her voice firm but tinged with that familiar motherly concern. Her gaze zeroed in on Harry, Hermione, and Ron, and Harry felt a warm flush of affection and a tinge of guilt. "We'll have no more adventures; you three have done enough heroics to give me grey hair for two lifetimes."
Harry couldn't help but smile slightly, the corners of his lips tugging upwards as he met Mrs. Weasley's stern, yet loving eyes. The scent of fresh pastries from a nearby vendor drifted on the breeze, making Harry's stomach rumble softly.
Mrs. Weasley glanced up at the station clock, her brow furrowing slightly. "Now, on the train with you all, try to have fun," she added, her voice softening as she gave them a gentle push towards the open carriage.
As Harry stepped onto the train, the cool metal of the steps sent a slight chill through the soles of his shoes. The faint scent of the train's old upholstery reached his nose, mixed with the distant smell of hot tea and the faintest hint of something sweet. Just as he was about to board fully, he caught Mrs. Weasley's voice, quieter now, speaking to Bill and Charlie.
"I just hope that the Ministry and Dumbledore know what they're doing… Allowing that American to set up his infernal machines within Hogwarts."
Harry paused, the words hanging in the air like a foreboding cloud. The metal beneath his hand felt colder suddenly, and the faint vibrations of the train's engine thrummed through his fingertips.
"Well, I know one thing for sure," Bill replied, his tone casual but laced with a hint of seriousness, "this year will be an interesting one for them."
Harry's heart gave a slight lurch as he fully stepped into the carriage, the words lingering in his mind like an unfinished puzzle. The door closed behind him with a soft click, the noise barely audible over the hum of the train. He exchanged a glance with Hermione, who looked equally thoughtful, and Ron, who was already eyeing the passing trolley. An interesting year indeed, Harry thought, the taste of uncertainty bitter on his tongue.
~ Scene Break ~
As the train pulled out of the station, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels against the tracks reverberated through the carriage, creating a steady, comforting hum. Harry hurried to catch up with Ron and Hermione, who were already deep in an argument over which compartment to choose. Their voices mingled with the low murmur of other students, the faint smell of the train's old upholstery filling the air with a musty scent that tickled Harry's nose.
After ten minutes of back-and-forth bickering, the trio finally settled on a compartment, sliding open the door to find two girls from Slytherin sitting inside. The atmosphere shifted slightly as they entered, the cool air inside the compartment carrying a hint of lavender, probably from the red-haired girl's perfume.
"And what are the Gryffindor Trio sitting with us snakes for?" the blonde girl, Daphne, asked, her tone sharp as she raised an eyebrow, her blue eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and challenge.
"Daphne, there's no need to be rude," the red-haired girl snapped back, her voice softer but firm, the irritation clear in her tone. "We aren't like Marcus and his little gang."
Ron responded to Daphne with a sour look, his lips curling slightly as if he'd just bitten into something unpleasant. Hermione, ever the peacekeeper, glanced at the girls, her brown eyes full of apology for Ron's attitude, her mouth pressing into a tight line.
But Harry barely noticed the tension. His gaze was fixed on the red-haired girl, Tracey, her presence captivating in a way he couldn't quite explain. Her voice was calm, soothing even, as it cut through the awkwardness in the compartment. The faint scent of her perfume lingered in the air, mixing with the earthy smell of the train, and Harry found himself strangely drawn to her.
"Come on, Harry, let's go find another compartment and let the snakes have this one," Ron muttered, tugging at Harry's sleeve in an attempt to pull him out. "Harry, is everything alright?"
Harry snapped out of his trance and turned to face his two best friends, their faces filled with concern. The distant clatter of the train and the low hum of conversation from other compartments faded into the background as Harry made his decision.
"Yeah, I'm good," Harry said, his voice steady as he turned back to Tracey and Daphne. "You two don't mind us staying here, do you?"
"Of course not, you're more than welcome," Tracey replied, her smile warm and genuine. It was a small gesture, but the kindness in her eyes made something inside Harry relax, as if he'd found a small island of calm amidst the usual storm of Hogwarts life.
Daphne, on the other hand, leaned in close to her friend, her voice dropping to a whisper that was just loud enough for Harry to catch. "Tracey, what in Merlin's name are you doing? Not only are they Gryffindors, but they're the bloody Golden Trio."
Tracey met her friend's gaze with a steady look, her hazel eyes unwavering. "Says most of the Slytherins, including, at times, Draco 'Wait until my father hears about this' Malfoy, but from what I've seen and heard, Harry here is anything but a prat."
Harry felt a slight heat rise to his cheeks at her words, a mixture of embarrassment and something else he couldn't quite place. The gentle swaying of the train and the steady rhythm of the tracks seemed to slow, the world narrowing to the small compartment where the unlikely group sat. He could still hear the distant chatter from other students, but it seemed far away, as if they were in a world of their own.
~ Scene Break ~
As the train rattled along the tracks, the rhythmic clanking of the wheels and the faint hum of conversation from other compartments filled the space. Harry gazed out the window, watching the countryside blur by in a patchwork of green fields and distant hills. The compartment was warm, the faint smell of leather seats and the lingering scent of chocolate frogs from earlier hanging in the air. The peaceful silence had settled in, broken only by the occasional rustle of fabric or a soft sigh.
Tracey was the first to break the silence, her voice soft but clear. "Hermione, have you completed your Runes assignment for the holidays?"
Hermione's face lit up with enthusiasm, her eyes sparkling as she turned to Tracey. "Yes, I completed it about three weeks in. What about Professor McGonagall's assignment on the uses of Transfiguration in daily life?"
Tracey looked down at her feet, her shoes scuffing the floor as she avoided Hermione's gaze. The question seemed to weigh on her, as if the pressure of Hermione's reputation as 'The Brightest Witch of Her Age' was too much. Tracey was just about to respond when the compartment door slid open with a loud bang, the noise startling everyone.
Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, his pale blond hair catching the light from the overhead lamps, casting a shadow over his sharp features. His presence seemed to suck the warmth from the room, leaving behind a cold, tense atmosphere. The faint scent of cologne wafted in with him, a stark contrast to the cozy compartment.
"I've been looking for you, Potter," Draco said, his voice carrying an edge that made Harry's skin prickle.
Harry sighed, turning to face his long-time nemesis. "What now, Malfoy?"
Draco's gray eyes flicked briefly to the group, then he turned to the two hulking figures behind him. "Crabbe, Goyle, I'll meet you at our compartment in a few minutes."
The two boys exchanged nervous glances before shuffling off down the corridor, their footsteps echoing as they disappeared from sight. Draco turned back to Harry, his expression shifting from his usual sneer to something more serious, almost vulnerable.
"Pot…Harry, for the past three years I've had to hide who I really am from you. That changes this summer. My father has given me permission to reveal everything we know."
The air in the compartment seemed to grow heavier, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Hermione, Ron, and the Slytherin girls all wore expressions of shock, as if they'd been slapped across the face with a wet, dead fish. But Harry kept his face impassive, waiting for Draco to continue.
Draco hesitated, then sat down next to Hermione, who stiffened at his proximity, her body rigid as she tried to inch away from him without making it obvious. The compartment felt smaller suddenly, the space between them charged with unspoken words.
"How much do you really know and understand about your parents and everything that surrounds them?" Draco asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.
Harry turned back to the window, watching the world outside rush past, the fields blurring into a green haze. His reflection stared back at him, the question lingering in his mind. "Only that they went to Hogwarts, got married, faced Voldemort and lived to tell about it, and then died protecting me. Why? Do you and your father have something to add?"
Draco dropped his gaze, staring at his polished shoes as if they held the answers he sought. When he looked up again, his storm-colored eyes were filled with an emotion Harry couldn't quite place—regret, perhaps. "Our fathers were friends during their time at Hogwarts. My father showed me pictures of them together."
Ron shot to his feet, anger flashing in his eyes. "Liar! Harry's father would never have been friends with a filthy snake like your father!"
Draco stood up as well, his posture stiff as he faced Ron. "Listen, you stupid, red-headed fool of a wizard. If I didn't claim that I would deal with Harry to the whole of Slytherin, then Harry would have to deal with the likes of Marcus Flint or Theodore Nott and their group. As it stands, I'm still under pressure to challenge Harry to a duel in front of the whole school as soon as possible, and if I don't, Marcus will."
"Why?" Harry's voice cut through the tension, quiet but commanding.
Everyone turned to look at him, the question hanging in the air like a challenge. "Why the act, Draco? Why not pull me aside and let me know that both you and your father are on my side? Why do I have to return every year to the Dursleys if I could live with you and your parents?"
Draco's shoulders slumped slightly, the weight of Harry's words pressing down on him. He sat back down, defeat etched into his features. "In a word… Dumbledore."
Harry searched Draco's eyes, looking for any sign of the hatred and anger that had defined their relationship for the past three years. But all he saw was sadness, a deep, unspoken sorrow that resonated with his own feelings of isolation. He stood up, extending his hand toward Draco.
"When you offered me your friendship, I thought you were a bully and a git. Now, I offer my hand in open friendship as your god-brother and friend."
Draco hesitated, his eyes flicking to Harry's outstretched hand. Slowly, he extended his own, and the two boys shook hands, a silent agreement passing between them—an unspoken vow to watch each other's backs from now on.
"Boys…" Hermione's voice broke the moment, her tone filled with a mixture of caution and relief. Daphne and Tracey nodded in agreement, their expressions mirroring Hermione's.
The compartment fell into a comfortable silence again, the previous tension replaced by a sense of something new—something fragile but hopeful. The train continued its journey, the steady rhythm of the wheels against the tracks a soothing backdrop to the newfound understanding between them.