Chapter Text
The day that the Hogwarts Express departed in 1991 was a day like no other. Families bustled about their children, suitcases knocked along the narrow train corridor, and students chirped about the coming school year. Nothing strange, and nothing out of the ordinary. Except, of course, for the boy with the lightning scar, and for the company he found himself in. A muggleborn, a blood traitor, and a boy with platinum blond hair whose fingers picked at his robes. It was not the people in the party that were peculiar themselves, but rather their gathering. It was not every day that a Malfoy consorted with a Weasley, and that the savior of the wizarding world befriended an outsider, but there they were, chatting as if their proximity would not outrage all of the wizarding world.
"-and then I said Father, it does not matter whether it rains or not, I have to take the dog out for a walk! it couldn’t possibly be my fault that mud got on my boots. But of course, he wouldn’t hear any of it. He was all Draco, you are the heir to the Malfoy name, be more responsible and all of that nonsense. Really, I can't do anything right according to him," Draco said, slumped against the window, the rest of the party nodding in agreement.
"I hear you mate," said Ron. "My parents don’t even let me play quidditch without my brothers. All because I broke a window one time. Now I must be babysat like a baby."
"Are all wizarding families like that?" Harry asked the two boys. "All big expectations and the sort?"
"I think that's all families, Harry," said Hermione from over her book. But before he could make any sort of reply, a banging came from their compartment door. Two red, thick faces were mouthing something at Draco, and he sighed and got up.
"Well it's about time," he said opening the door to his friends. "I've been waiting for ages." and with a simple goodbye to the group, he left.
"Blimey," said Ron, "I don’t think I've heard someone speak so much since Ginny started reading Witch Weakly."
Harry laughed at that.
"I met him the other day, at Diagon Alley," Harry told his new friends. "I think he called me poor." Ron and Hermione looked at him in shock.
"Why did you let him sit with you then!" asked Ron.
"Honestly, Harry, he sounds like a bully!"
"Well yeah, I know, but he didn’t have anywhere else to sit! And I kind of think he forgot about it," Harry said with a shrug. "He probably didn’t even remember it was me."
The three friends looked at each other, considering their interaction they'd just had with the posh-sounding rapid-lipped boy they had found, sitting in the compartment already talking Harry's ear off. Harry began to smile, and then Ron, and then they began to laugh. Ill-will was never common amongst 11 year olds.
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The strangeness, strangely, seemed to carry on into the annual sorting ceremony, as Draco stepped up towards the stool.
"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat bellowed, before it could even reach Draco's head. It was going to be a strange next few years.
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