In the Eye of the Dragon

In the Eye of the Dragon
Chapter One

Draco Malfoy walked up the aisle of the Hogwarts Express, looking for an empty compartment. So far, all the ones he had passed were filled with first years, many of them Muggle born. He could easily tell which ones were and which ones weren’t. Everyone had to wear Muggle clothes in King’s Cross Station, but it was obvious, as he glared at the tiny witches and wizards, that the Muggle borns knew a bit more about Muggle clothing. The wizard kids looked mostly normal, except for small, very noticeable differences: parkas, even though it was September; thumbs of mittens sticking out over their shoes, which were mostly on the wrong feet, and his favourite, a girl with fluffy pink socks covering each of her pigtails.

Draco himself, having been exposed to the Muggle world much more often than these kids, was dressed more appropriately: Khaki slacks, pressed and impeccably tailored, a white button down shirt, also pressed, and topped with a simple black leather coat, belt, and boots. His hair, unlike his usual style, was roughly parted down the center and allowed to fall naturally to the sides, kept in place with a small amount of gel, and his skin was tanned enough to be noticeable, but not enough to contrast his nearly-white hair. If it hadn’t been for the thick platinum ring with the emerald dragon intricately embedded on the top on his finger, or the platinum chain with a matching emerald dragon attached, most of the students on the train would’ve easily mistaken him for a Muggle. But all of them, with the exception of a few first years, knew that the dragon stood for one thing: Draco Malfoy.

He was nearing the end of the train when he found an empty compartment. He shut the door and sat down, watching families say goodbye. His parents hadn’t come to the Station; he’d left the manor early this morning on his broomstick, landed a few blocks away from the Station at an abandoned warehouse where he had stored his trunk the night before, and quickly exchanged the heavy fur traveling cloak with his leather jacket, and walked to the station, broom stashed in the trunk. His parents had hardly said goodbye. His father was in Azkaban, and his mother was in the middle of her morning exercise routine. His father had sent a letter a few days before. In true Azkaban fashion it sounded nothing like his usual self, only the weak shell of a person who had been forced to relive the worst memories of his life. Draco could only imagine what memories his father was reliving. His mother stopped from her workout briefly to give him a kiss and a strong hug, and after he had passed her a goblet of water, he left without another word. Stupid sentimental bullshit, he thought as he saw first years crying, mothers crying, fathers giving affectionate pats on the backs of their sons, hugs to their daughters. Draco looked away when the compartment door opened.

“Oh, sorry, we didn’t realize anyone was in —” they stopped when they had realized who they were speaking too. “Oh, Malfoy,” Harry Potter said in a colder tone. “We’ll leave you then.” Harry and his friends were gone before he could say anything. The glare he had been holding eased, and no more than ten seconds later, Crabbe and Goyle had joined him.

The train ride to Hogwarts was uneventful. This was the eleventh time he had sat on the train, and a lot of the novelty had worn off. He couldn’t hold an intelligent conversation with anyone: Crabbe and Goyle having the intelligence of a single flobberworm between them, and all the other students were too afraid of him to be interesting. Except three people, but they just didn’t like him. As sure as he was that he could hold an intelligent conversation with Hermione Granger, he really did not want to. Filthy Mudblood.

So instead of bothering to talk to anyone, he stood up and did a brief patrol of the compartments, as all Prefects were required to do, and returned to his compartment with a porn magazine confiscated from one of the Muggle born fifth years. Not that he really cared if the kid had porn or not, he just felt like putting his authority to some use. Crabbe and Goyle had fallen asleep, Crabbe sprawled on the floor, Goyle in the more comfortable position across the other seats. Draco flipped through the magazine, bored. The magazine was from the Muggle world, so the perfectly airbrushed models did nothing more than stare out from the page, two-dimensional and uninteresting.

Eventually it got too dark for Draco to read the articles in the magazine, pictures having lost his interest from the beginning, and he set it down on the seat beside him. He got up to reach for his school robes and was just starting to change when Hermione knocked and stuck her head in.

“What do you want, Mudblood?” he asked angrily, buttoning up the few buttons that were undone, giving her a harsh look.

“The Prefects are wanted up in the first compartment in two minutes,” she said without any sign she had even noticed his tone of voice, the expression on his face, or the fact she had seen him with his shirt half-open. The only expression she showed was one of bored surprise when she noticed Crabbe and Goyle, now both asleep on the floor.

“Fine,” Draco replied, and a couple seconds later, heard the door click shut. He decided there wasn’t enough time to change, so he left his compartment once he had his Muggle clothes back on properly.

When he arrived at the Prefect’s compartment he noticed that the other seven Prefects were already there. Hermione and him were the only ones to not have changed into their school robes, and they briefly stared each other down before Draco sat at the last available seat, furthest away from her.

Hermione, as a Muggle born, was very well informed of how Muggles dressed. She was wearing simple faded blue jeans, somewhat baggy on her, a fitted black tank top, and worn-in tennis shoes. Her hair was tied back in a messy knot, strands of hair sticking out in every direction, and wore silver rings on all of her fingers. Each was engraved with a different pattern: some looked Celtic, others more floral. There were a few twine bracelets and a brown leather strap wrapped around her wrist, and she wore matching twine necklaces, and a heavy ball chain. It looked more grungy than he had expected her. He had figured, because of her snobbish attitude at school, to be wearing something along the lines of him: expensive leather, generally sophisticated-looking clothes. She always dressed like that at school. At school she wore polished Mary-Janes and the normal school uniform. Nor did she wear any of the jewellery she wore today. Draco looked over her again, mildly surprised, and went back to listening to the Head Boy and Girl.

By the time the train had reached Hogwarts, the sun was just a glimmer over the horizon. Walking out to the carriages, Draco once again spotted Hermione. She was back to her normal school self. Robes billowing around her, uniform and Mary-Janes in perfect condition, hair down and falling over her shoulders, and the twine had vanished. Draco shrugged and stepped into his carriage, Crabbe and Goyle following.