The month he spent away from the Dursleys with Draco and Ron had been the best of his life, with no one yelling at him every now and then, with no one treating him like a slave twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

During his holidays he had discovered many things, but perhaps the most important of them was that he possessed more power than he believed and now, having studied and trained, he had no doubt that he would return to school being the best. He wasn't sure if his friends had noticed it, he was sure that Draco had, even his parents, who seemed genuinely delighted with him and Harry thought that it was no wonder, after all, it was obvious that the Malfoys were that kind of family that only rubbed shoulders with the best. And it made him feel important that Draco had decided to include him in his life and showed him the wonders of having a well-positioned name.

It wasn't that the Weasleys' life seemed unpleasant to him, it was true that they lived with little of everything, but their lack of money only gave them different values that Harry, as a good Slytherin, valued, such as loyalty and sincerity. He was sure that if he needed them, the Weasleys would not hesitate to shake his hand and that could even save his life. However, their biggest flaw (as Lucius Malfoy had pointed out when he had that fight with Arthur Weasley a few days ago in the bookstore) lay in the terrible fact that none of them pursued glory. The bunch of redheads did good only for the satisfaction of helping and Harry could not understand it no matter how hard he tried. It was obvious that none of them cared about their name and that was fine, but why not look for a benefit from it? In the not-too-distant future, Potter would find himself well positioned among important wizards, purebloods in high positions in the ministry, but it seemed that the Weasley patriarch was not even looking for a better position in his job.

—I know I don't earn much, but I'm happy doing what I do. My family loves each other and is united, that's all I need.

That was what he had said, as a casual comment, but Potter thought he was completely wrong, that he needed a decent house to accommodate so many boys, clothes that his sons could wear without feeling ashamed (as Ron had expressed feeling many times), even a couple of more comfortable beds, his own were as old as his at the Dursely's and it must be said that his mattress had been picked up from the garbage when he reached the age of one and had not been changed since.

Maybe it was that she spent too much time with Draco, she didn't give so much importance to material things before, but there was nothing wrong with wanting to live better than before, right?

On the last night at the Weasley's, Harry was given a special dinner with all of his favorite dishes, at least the ones they could afford, they lit some magical flares and went to bed, only to wake up early the next day. With trunks, pets, robes and brooms, the whole family—and Harry—packed into Mr. Weasley's car, a completely old and rusty one, but one that had been modified to be able to fly and become invisible. Harry had never seen it in action and apparently never would, since Mrs. Weasley didn't agree to use it.

They arrived at Kings Cross at a quarter to eleven. Mr. Weasley dashed across the street to grab some trolleys to carry the trunks, and they all ran into the station. The difficulty was getting to platform nine and three quarters, which had to be done carefully so that no Muggle would notice them disappearing. Harry thought that London's busiest station was not the best place to put the platform for wizards; he supposed that the idea had been someone not very well endowed with grey matter, but hey, not everyone could be a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin, right?

The first to cross the barrier were Percy and Mr. Weasley, then the twins Fred and George, after them Mrs. Weasley with Ginny, who had given him a little smile before disappearing. Finally it was Ron's turn who crossed without problems. But Harry instead of crossing stood there, looking at the wall between platform nine and ten. He felt a familiar magical force, hidden from the naked eye, he knew it was not an enemy, he could feel the non-hostile intentions vibrating in that magic, the magic of an elf.

"I know you're there, Dobby," he said in a very low voice. "I know you're there and that you've blocked the way to the platform. You'd better let me through now or I'll have to Apparate," he lied, having learned the theory but not daring to put it into practice.

He felt the magic vibrate once more and the magical entrance shook in front of him, like a heat stroke in the middle of summer. The black-haired man didn't even bother to physically locate the elf, he crossed the portal quickly, because the train must be about to leave and he wasn't going to miss it. He would get to Hogwarts even if he had to fly in his Nimbus 2000 and it would take him three days to do so. He thought that learning how to illegally apparate could be helpful, but he wouldn't have the chance to practice it outside of Hogwarts so, walking along the practically empty platform, he got on the train just in time to leave. He dragged his trunk and his owl's cage through the corridors, careful not to meet anyone who might criticize his used clothing that was three sizes too big. He was passing in front of a compartment when some hands grabbed him and made him enter.

Draco had closed the door behind him and leaned against it, showing him a crooked smile that made him smile too. The blond already had his school uniform on and seemed in a very good mood, almost immediately he greeted him with a strong hug and a lick on the cheek that made him blush up to his ears. Draco simply let out a laugh and sat down in his place. Harry, still embarrassed, imitated him and sat in front of him, remembering those kisses they had stopped sharing since... since Slytherin's first victory. Okay, Harry couldn't say that he missed them, because he didn't miss them, I mean, kisses were something that were only shared with people you loved... he loved Draco, but Draco was a boy and boys weren't kissed on the mouth... right? Anyway, Harry didn't miss kissing, but they had been so frequent at the beginning of the first year that it had been strange not to have them, and not that he expected to have any for having defeated Voldemort or for having discovered everything about the Philosopher's Stone, that is, because he, he didn't...

"Harry?" Malfoy's voice asked, bringing him back to reality. The dark-haired man pretended quite naturally that his head had not been, until a moment ago, a machine of gears trying to process everything and nothing at the same time. "You're very quiet."

—I'm trying to recover from the germs you left on my cheek —he lied, wiping the area with exaggeration. Draco just smiled amused and looked back at his notebook, where he began to write. Harry recognized the diary he had given him. —So you use it.

"Of course," his friend replied, still writing on the yellowed pages, "you feel it too, the power that emanates from it."

"Yes, but I can't tell if it's good or bad," he said, frowning. Draco laughed.

—Wasn't it clear that there is no such thing as good or bad power? Just power, Harry.

—Yes, but Dumbledore...

"Dumbledore doesn't understand many things," she looked up, piercing him with her grey eyes, "and unless you aspire to be headmaster of Hogwarts you shouldn't follow in his footsteps." Harry arched an eyebrow.

"So whose?" Draco smiled, showing all his teeth.

—Mine, of course.

They both smiled at each other and went back to their own thing, Harry was reading the end of the last book Dumbledore had sent him to learn to control his power and Draco went back to writing on the notebook. The dark-haired boy wondered more than once why he was writing so much in it, he seemed fascinated. More than writing, he looked like he was reading something. Harry thought that there were probably things written, since he hadn't even looked through it before giving it to the blond. They were probably old notes on charms or potions and Draco was just adding his own notes to what was already written. Whatever the case, he wasn't going to ask, if he had learned anything from Draco, it was that his privacy was important, he didn't like nosy people and Harry wasn't going to do anything that would make him angry, not after how well he had behaved with him.

At some point during the journey, Harry decided to put on his uniform using a charm he had learned, Draco looked at him approvingly and then went back to his business. A couple of minutes later Ginny Weasley appeared at the compartment door. She knocked faintly, but loud enough to be heard. Draco gave her an indifferent glance and then looked at his friend.

"And that one?" he asked before Harry stood up to open the compartment.

—Ginevra Weasley.

"I should have guessed," he said grumpily before returning to his diary. The dark-haired man looked at him with a frown. Draco usually didn't show his emotions that way and that threw him off.

He opened the door anyway.

—Hi Ginny.

"H-Harry, hello," she smiled. "My brother and I were wondering…" she glanced over her shoulder at Malfoy. "Well, we lost you on the platform and we wanted to know if you'd like to come and sit with me, with us, I mean, with Ron, Hermione and Neville, we're all… in…"

"I'm sorry, redhead," Draco's voice said from behind her. He had stood up beside her and was holding her shoulder tightly, as if he thought Harry would walk away if he let go. "In case you haven't noticed, he's with me." He waved his hand, shooing her away like a bug, looking at her with his cold grey eyes.

The girl flinched at the look but did not slow down, her eyes narrowed, furious. Draco stood tall, tall, leaning on the centimeters he had gained during the holidays. Harry knew that Ginny had character, she had grown up surrounded by only men and the girl was not at all a fragile flower, even if she behaved like one in front of him. However, Draco was something else, he had been raised alone, but under the rod and yoke of a rigid father who would not allow him to be humiliated by a blood traitor. Harry silently waited for that battle, one that Draco quickly won. Potter thought that if Ginny had been raised under the standards of traditional wizards, probably the fight would have lasted longer, but the Weasleys were not that kind of family and that had cost the girl the defeat.

The blond smiled with satisfaction when the redhead left there with her face red with anger, without even saying goodbye. Both Slytherins returned to their seats, Draco to his diary and Harry to his book, in a somewhat uncomfortable silence. The brunette could not understand why his best friend had bothered to maintain such an unimportant fight. That was not the thing of a Slytherin, nor of a Black, he thought that perhaps the Malfoy gene had had something to do with it, Harry just hoped that it did not cause them problems, Draco had always known how to choose his battles, and that had been one that was not only not worth it, but was also quite stupid.

The dark-haired boy realized how much he had been watching his best friend, until the latter returned his gaze seriously. The grey-eyed boy stood up then, it was getting dark outside and they would soon arrive at the castle. Draco leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Harry's who couldn't even breathe from how close they were. The dark-haired boy saw the blond close his eyes slowly and get closer, he could feel his breath on his lips and Harry didn't know what to do; if he moved just a little forward he would kiss him but was that what Draco wanted? Was that what he wanted?

He didn't have time to find out, the lady with the candy cart came by and knocked on the door, the blond stepped back with an indifferent expression and with cold kindness asked for a couple of chocolate frogs that he didn't share with Harry. The brunette, still in a state of shock, didn't even respond to the woman.

"Guys," Pansy Parkinson's voice came from the doorway. She sat down next to Draco, who gave her his second chocolate frog. "I thought you were going to sit with us. Blaise, Greg, Vince and I are waiting."

"We were just catching up, you know, on vacation," the blond replied, putting away his diary.

"But they've been together for three weeks," she replied with a giggle.

Harry watched them chatting pleasantly, while a strange feeling settled in his chest. Then, at some point in that conversation, Draco looked at Pansy exactly the same way he had looked at him minutes before. His grey eyes penetrating Parkinson's green eyes who looked back in the same way, Draco leaned forward, the girl closed her eyes, Malfoy looked away at him, as if challenging him to do something, to stop him. Pansy approached slowly, Draco continued to look at him despite having the girl's lips practically on his. Harry wanted to look away but he couldn't, it seemed totally unpleasant to have to witness that. The blond's gaze reflected disappointment seconds before he closed his eyes.

Harry reacted just in time to prevent the kiss, using his magic he opened the compartment window through which a gust of wind blew so strong that Pansy jumped, moving away. Neither of them seemed embarrassed by what had just happened, but Harry didn't even dare to look at them. Through the reflection of the already closed window, Potter saw his best friend leave the compartment holding Parkinson's hand. He felt extremely angry and couldn't explain why, or maybe he did; he hadn't expected Malfoy to be one of those who went around giving out kisses.

—New and first lesson of the year —the gray-eyed man told him, stopping at the door before leaving—, if you want something, take it, snatch it if necessary. It applies to many things.

Harry stood there, staring at the empty space his friend had left, thinking. He felt it was best to be honest with himself. Did he need more proof than what the Mirror of Erised had shown him the previous year? Why did he refuse to accept his reality? The one that screamed at him that for him, Draco Malfoy was more than a friend, that he cared more for him than he had ever cared for anyone. He thought he was too young to think about those things, especially when the threat of Voldemort was still latent. And he didn't want to, he refused to accept crossing that line because what was the point anyway? Being in love with a person of the same sex was not seen better in the magical world than in the muggle world. Would they respect him in the same way if they knew that he... that he? No, he wasn't going to say it, not even to himself, because he wasn't, definitely not.

He closed his eyes, the train stopped, he knew he had to get off but he was definitely too overwhelmed to face some of his companions, he had to distract himself, he had priorities.

Just then one of her priorities passed in front of her compartment; Cedric Diggory. During the summer holidays she had come to the conclusion that he had friends in almost all the houses of Hogwarts, all except Hufflepuff. She had taken it upon herself to ask around here and there and in the end, Diggory had turned out to be the most influential badger in his house. Fifteen years old, he was crossing the fifth year of school, with exceptional abilities in transformation, popular among many of the students for his magical ability and his good looks; brown hair, grey almost blue eyes, seeker of his house team, a whole box of cute things.

—Hey! Diggory, right? —he asked the boy who stopped accompanied by the Ravenclaw seeker.

"Harry Potter," said the other pleasantly. He extended his hand. "Cedric Diggory."

—Yeah, we haven't had a chance to play together, but I've seen you —the boy said with well-concealed flattery—. You're really good, and I thought you could help me out with some tips.

—Merlin, I never thought Harry Potter, the youngest Seeker in history, would want advice from me —Harry smiled with warm kindness. He thought manipulating Diggory would be easier than he thought.

They walked towards the carriages, delving into a discussion of Quidditch, which Ron joined in on sight. Hermione arrived shortly after, all alone, and the four of them took a carriage. Harry looked at each of his allies closely; their skills, their personalities, their prowess. Hermione was the brains, but she was also the direction, the bishop. Ron was justice and bravery, the knight. Draco was ambition and vision, the queen. And Diggory would be loyalty and soul, the rook, if he could get him into his circle.

With these four on his side, Harry was sure he could be king, with their help he was sure that getting pawns would not be difficult, after all he could already count among them Dean, Seamus, Fred, George, Neville, Vincent, Crabbe, even Parkinson, Zabini and Nott.

The four houses gathered in that carriage gave him the assurance that he was ready for his promotion; he had the support and complement of those who saw things differently and who could also protect him. He would work on his relationship with Diggory who seemed more than willing to cooperate with him. He was so excited that he completely forgot about the matter of kisses and meaningless feelings; all he wanted was to find Malfoy to talk to him about his plans and see his proud look. In short, he had plenty of time to clarify his feelings; now the most important thing was to have a group of people willing to help him, not only to defeat Voldemort, but to see him take his place as the greatest wizard of all time.