Draco Malfoy And The Wily Wizard

Chapter 3 - To Hogwarts

August passed by sluggishly, as if the stifling summer heat was doing all in its power to prevent the onset of the cool autumn air and the end of Draco's summer of freedom. While his father was busy at work and his mother with the management of the house, Draco would either practice his flying or sneak to the back of the house to practice his spells. But once he learned that it took more than a little concentration to master even a simple spell, he quickly replaced wand practice with a bit of reading. His mum had hinted that she had ordered the new Wade Wadsworth book by owl post as a going to school present, so Draco decided that he would reread all of the previous books just in case.

Two weeks before school was to start, on a Tuesday morning when his father should have been at work and Draco should have been fast asleep, Lucius sent the house-elves to wake Draco up and bring him downstairs. Sleepy, grumpy, and hurriedly dressed, he finally arrived to find his father and a man he didn't know sitting at the table. The man was dressed in Hogwarts robes, immaculate but unimpressive, and had an unfeeling face. His dark hair looked as though it hadn't been washed in weeks, but it was neatly combed and fell limply down his face.

"Draco," Lucius stood, gesturing at one of the remaining chairs, "if you would join us?"

Draco was used to meals such as this, as Lucius very frequently included his son in his business dealings. All Draco need do was sit still and not speak unless spoken to. He quietly sat down and grabbed a piece of bacon from a nearby platter.

"Draco, I'm not sure you've ever had the pleasure. This is Severus Snape, a former colleague of mine."

Former colleague, Draco thought amusedly. His father had more former colleagues than the last Minister of Magic. And each one felt they owed him a personal favour or two for one reason or another. Draco was quite impressed with the power his father was able to wield and hoped one day to reach the same stature. But business dealings of this nature were horribly boring to Draco, especially since he never had any idea what they were talking about. It was as though they were speaking in some sort of code to which Draco was not privy.

"Mr. Snape," Draco nodded respectfully, as was expected of him.

"That will be Professor Snape to you, Draco," he nodded back.

"Severus teaches Potions at Hogwarts, as well as being head of Slytherin House. I'm sure that you will be seeing much of him in the next few years."

"You teach Potions?" Draco spoke up suddenly. "I've heard that no one likes that class."

"It is true," Professor Snape nodded. "Many of the students do not have the patience that it takes to be successful at Potions, and it has gained a rather bad reputation."

Lucius smiled coldly. "Draco is not a very patient boy. Perhaps you can..."

Snape seemed to understand Lucius' unfinished statement, for he smiled the same cold smile, right down to the quirky sneer.

"I'll do all I can to help Draco along."

For a moment, Draco thought he heard sarcasm lacing the Potion master's voice, but he immediately dismissed that thought. No one was sarcastic to his father... But as his father apparently didn't notice it, nothing further was said. Lucius immediately changed the subject to business, and Draco - as usual - stopped listening. Instead, his thoughts turned once again to Hogwarts with all the naïve expectation of a soon-to-be first year. He wondered what it would be like - he began to plan all sorts of great adventures - and he, for the first time, actually began to think about classes. Strangely enough, of all the time he had spent thinking of school, he had not once remembered that while he was at school he would be expected to go to class and actually learn. It was a rather unpleasant thought, and it made the thought of leaving on the Hogwarts Express in two weeks a bit less exciting.

The Malfoys had made sure that Draco was tutored in all of the rudimentary subjects (Latin, Arithmetic, Development, and Spelling), and he had quickly learned that his parents would accept nothing less than exemplary notes from him. He expected that their attitude would be much the same towards his performance at Hogwarts.

Draco paused in the middle of eating his eggs to make sure that he wasn't supposed to be paying attention:

"... no new developments so far as I know," Snape was saying. "But my position at Hogwarts has greatly limited my contacts."

"I should think so, especially with your proximity to Albus Dumbledore. You should be careful how you act."

"Dumbledore trusts me implicitly..."

Still business. Draco once again stabbed his eggs, annoyed at how runny they were. He would have to speak with the elves about this.

~~~

Two weeks later, the Malfoys were once again in the midst of a family affair. It was September 1, and the day Draco was to board the Hogwarts Express. As they waited in front of platform 9 ¾, Narcissa checked over Draco's bags to make sure he had forgotten nothing.

"Draco, dear, did you bring that last trunk with you? Or did you decide to only take these?" She swept her hand over the large pile of luggage cluttering the ground.

Draco mentally ticked off all of the items he had wished to bring (two trunks of robes, wand, owl, books, no broom...) satisfied that he had them all. "I think this is it, Mum."

"Well, I think you're ready, dear. Here's an off-to-school present from your father and I. Don't forget to study hard. I'll be sure to send you sweets." She handed him a gold-wrapped box, which looked suspiciously like a book. Draco grinned. Hopefully his mother had taken the hints he had given her about wanting the new Wade Wadsworth book. He took the box from her, lightly kissing her cheek as he did so. He turned to his father, who was wearing a proud expression on his face.

"Be sure to always conduct yourself as a Malfoy, son. I expect great things from you." Once again, a grin broke out on Draco's face. There were no better compliments than the few that he received from his father. Lucius nodded at him, then took Narcissa's arm and headed back out the archway. Draco watched them for a second, and then boarded the train. He found an empty compartment near the middle of the train just as the whistle sounded. The train began to pull out of the station, and Draco sat down in his compartment without so much as glancing out the window.

He pulled a book out of his sac and sat down to read. He had been reading the Wade Wadsworth the Wily Wizard series for the past year, and each book never failed to completely engage him. Wade was such a carefree hero, completely selfish in his gains, and absolutely reckless. His mother had indeed gotten him the fourth book in the series (The Unmerciful Manticore in which Wade faces the evil manticore Fudgups), but he had yet to finish rereading Wade Wadsworth and the Escape from Paradise, Book 3 in the Wade Wadsworth series. He found his place quickly - he was at a very tense part of the book, right before the final battle - and began to read.

Wade stood at the city wall. Canaan'arfon was a great city, probably filled with the greatest show of military might he had yet encountered. A slow smile played across his dark, handsome features. This was the kind of challenge he enjoyed... By now, the entire Western Army would be looking for him at his father, the king's orders, but Wade was no longer interested in hearing what his "dear old father" had to say. Wade was an independent man - had been ever since he first escaped from the Dun Palace last year and navigated his way down the great Lollipo River. And if his father was upset that Wade had left the Palace with a significantly smaller fortune in its stores, it was no business of Wade's.

A breeze stirred up some sand, drawing Wade's attention for the first time to the terrain. Low shrubs and sparse patches of green surrounded by an increasingly plain sandy color. This was a good sign - the Great Wasteland was very close. And, oh! The adventures he would have there! The Great Wasteland, where there was no law, no King, and only the quickest to pull their wands survived. Wade had heard rumors of infamous thieves and spies who based their operations out of the Wasteland - perhaps there was even a group willing to take a chance on him. Fortunes were made or broken in the Wasteland... And Wade had every intention of becoming a very wealthy man.

Well - enough of this idle dreaming. Canaan'arfon was the last stop before the Great Wastelands and his fortune...

Draco continued to read, finally reaching the heart-stopping conclusion where Wade single-handedly hexed his way through the entire Western Army and, after stealing the General's wand, finally arrived in the Great Wastelands. It left Draco eager to begin reading Book 4. The cover of the book was enticing enough. Wade, in all his calm glory, was waving his wand at a very fierce-looking creature guarding a treasure. Every so often Wade would turn from the battle and flash a smile that Draco had been told made witches everywhere swoon.

If The Unmerciful Manticore were anywhere near as suspenseful as The Escape from Paradise, Draco would be completely engaged for the next few hours. There was probably still another hour or so before the Express reached Hogsmeade, and he was sure he'd be a good ways through it by the time they reached Hogwarts, so long as---

"Hey, Draco!"

--so long as he wasn't disturbed. Draco groaned and put down the book. He was none too surprised to see Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle standing in front of him. Crabbe and Goyle were what Draco liked to call 'perfunctory friends'. He was expected to be their friends because their parents were friends of his parents. Both Crabbe and Goyle were burly and intimidating and could obviously be used to his advantage, but Draco would have liked to choose his own friends. Besides, Crabbe and Goyle were two of the stupidest people Draco had ever met - and Draco rather felt like it was an insult to his intelligence to be forced to be around them all the time. He was sure he could feel brain cells dying whenever the two of them were near.

"What is it?"

Goyle pointed back to the door and grunted. "Everyone's talking about it... Harry Potter is on this train!"

Draco's eyes widened slightly. Harry Potter! But of course that was right; Harry Potter would be about his age and starting his first year at Hogwarts. The wheels in Draco's mind started turning. What a great boost for his popularity if he were to become friends with the Boy Who Lived!

"Which compartment did they say he was on?"

"Back here!"

"Come on!"

The three boys hurried back through the train, stopping only to ask an occasional student if they knew where Harry Potter was. Finally they reached a compartment near the end of the train. Inside were two boys, obviously both first years, as their robes were without house markings. One of the boys was a lanky redhead, while the other Draco recognized as being the boy from Mme Malkin's robe shop. With a start, Draco recalled the conversation with him, and he realized that this boy must have been the famous Harry Potter. Frankly, Draco was a bit disappointed. Well, it really didn't matter what Draco thought of him... this was Harry Potter, and in the end what mattered was what other people thought.

"Is it true?" Draco stepped forward, making his appearance known. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes." The monosyllabic response, yet again! Draco was about to make a sarcastic comment back at him, before he caught himself. He needed to be nice to Harry Potter... so Draco held back, noticing at the same time that Harry Potter (Draco couldn't yet think of him as plain Harry) was looking at Crabbe and Goyle warily.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," he said, nodding to indicate them. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." And you be sure to remember it, he smiled to himself. But his introduction was cut short by a barely concealed laugh from the other boy. Draco looked piercingly at him. Worn robes, bright red hair, and a forgotten corned beef sandwich lying next to him on the seat. The first word to come to his mind was 'poor'. The second was 'Weasley'.

"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." Draco was satisfied to see the boy's ears grow red in a cross between embarrassment and rage. With a smirk, he turned back to Harry, emboldened with arrogance.

"You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you out there." At this, Draco stuck out his hand in a gallant offer of friendship.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," Harry replied coldly, making no move to shake his hand. Draco could feel his cheeks begin to flush. In a vain effort to recover his pride, he lashed out at him, realizing too late that he had probably ruined any chance he had of befriending Harry Potter.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter. Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you."

Instantly, the Weasley boy stood up, attempting to look menacing and quite honestly failing due to his proximity to Crabbe and Goyle.

"Say that again," he ground out.

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" Draco hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. Getting into a fight with the Boy Who Lived was not high on his to-do list.

"Unless you get out now," Harry nodded emphatically. This, of course, put Draco in a very awkward position. Backing down was not an option, but he did not want to be on Potter's bad side. In the end, his pride was worth more than Potter's approval. After all, what is a Malfoy if not confident, prideful, and generally haughty?

"But we don't feel like leaving, do we boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some."

As soon as he said it, Draco had reason to regret the hasty words. Nothing like burning bridges you need to cross, eh? And just like that, all of Draco's hopes of instant popularity resulting from a friendship with Potter flew out the window. The battle lines were drawn.

Crabbe and Goyle, apparently spoiling for a fight and a meal, instantly reached for some of Potter and Weasley's food. But as Goyle reached for a chocolate frog, something small and dark latched itself onto his knuckle. He reared back, howling, and swinging the thing - Draco thought it might be a rat - around and around. After a few very uncomfortable seconds, it flew off and hit the window.

Just then, Draco heard footsteps in the hall. Better leave before they all got in trouble for fighting. He grabbed Crabbe and Goyle (who was cradling his injured hand carefully) by their robes and they hastily made their way back to their compartment.

"What a waste!" Draco sighed, as he collapsed back into his seat. "Famous Harry Potter, siding with a Weasley over a Malfoy. Absolutely absurd." He was aware that he was whining, but quite frankly he didn't care. After all, who was there to hear him save for Crabbe and Goyle? "Just goes to show you that fame isn't everything, eh? Well, he'll regret that decision!" Crabbe cracked his knuckles, nodding menacingly. Goyle just sulked in his seat, still holding onto his hand.

They sat in silence for a moment, until they heard a voice echo through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately." Draco felt a nervous, queasy pit in his stomach, but he was much too excited to notice it. He quickly pulled on his robes and waited breathlessly until the train pulled into the station with a groaning halt, and stepped off onto the dark platform.

~~~

To be continued...