Harry Potter : In the shadow of divinity19.05%

Chapter - 16 : The Weasley Welcome part - 3

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(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)

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"Ron Weasley," Ron pointed at himself, then at Harry. "Harry Potter."

Neville's eyes seemed to be about to fall out of his head and Hermione began bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. "Are you really?" she asked. "I know all about you, of course, I got a few extra books, for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."

Harry winced. "Yeah, I've read them as well, they're all a load of rubbish."

Hermione looked scandalized by his words. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, they don't exactly know what they're talking about," Harry explained patiently. "Only two people were there the night I got my scar: me and Voldemort, and as far as I can tell, neither of us have been interviewed by any of these people trying to write 'historical accounts' about what went on that night."

Everyone in the compartment laughed, although Ron and Neville looked a bit pale from his use of Voldemort's name. Harry had heard all about the wizarding world's irrational fear of Voldemort's name, and found it, as he did many things, absurd, he refused to call the madman by such ridiculous monikers as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and You-Know-Who.

"I suppose you're right," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"I suppose I am," Harry replied cheerfully. "Now would you two like to join us? We have this here pile of sweets that we're determined to finish before the train reaches Hogwarts."

"My parents say that sweets will rot your teeth."

"Your parents wouldn't happen to be dentists would they?"

A small smile twitched at the corner of Hermione's mouth. "They might be," she said, primly sitting herself beside Ron.

"What's a dentist?" the redhead asked.

As Hermione launched into a long winded explanation on her parents' profession, Harry turned to Neville who was still standing shyly by the door. "Come on, Neville," he urged, "I meant you as well."

"I don't want to be a bother."

"Nonsense," Harry reached out and tugged Neville into the seat beside him. "If I didn't want you here, I wouldn't have asked you to join us."

"Well, you make a fair point."

"I know I do. Pasty?"

"Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So which one of you is he?"

Harry, Neville, and Hermione looked away from Ron, who had been giving them an enthusiastic lecture all about the mechanics of Quidditch, to where a blonde haired boy, flanked by two larger, mean looking boys, stood at the door of their compartment.

"Pardon?" Harry asked politely.

"I heard Harry Potter is in this compartment. Is it true?"

"That depends on who's asking."

"This is Crabbe and Goyle," the blonde said, gesturing to his two companions. "And I'm Draco Malfoy."

A soft cough from Ron, that may or may not have been hiding a laugh, drew Draco's attention to him. "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." He looked to Neville. "And you're the squib Longbottom who only just barely made it into Hogwarts." Draco's eyes fell on Harry. "I don't recognize you two, so you must be Potter," he said to Harry, then glanced distastefully at Hermione, "and you must be a mudblood."

Ron gasped in outrage and turned red with fury, and even shy little Neville, looked to Draco with righteous anger. However, the blonde didn't even spare them a second glance.

"You'll soon find that 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 there." He held out a hand with all of the confidence of one who expected Harry to take it immediately and be grateful for it all the while.

"Is that so," Harry snorted, astounded by this blonde haired chit's arrogance.

He nodded, hand still raised expectantly.

"What makes you so sure you're capable of pointing out the wrong sort from the right?"

"I'm Draco Malfoy," the kid repeated, as if it was supposed to hold some sort of importance to Harry. "My family is perhaps the most influential in all of the wizarding world. The Minister of Magic has come to my family for advice on many occasions, my father is one of his most trusted advisors."

Harry hummed thoughtfully; if Malfoy was telling the truth, it would be nice to have that sort of power on his side, but he didn't at all like the other boy's attitude. That was easily rectified though. "All right," he said. "Get rid of your goons and we'll talk."

"Harry?" Ron broached uncertainly.

Harry granted him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry mate, I've got it all in hand."

Malfoy nodded and waved a dismissive hand at his two sidekicks, they immediately turned and lumbered away without a word of protest.

The moment the door shut behind them, Harry focused all of his attention on Malfoy. "Tell me a bit more about you, Draco. What reason do I have to throw my lot in with you?"

"My family is among the wealthiest in all of Britain, both muggle and magical. We are of the Sacred Twenty-Eight and have been close confidants of nearly every Minister of Magic since the Ministry's conception. My father-"

"That's not what I asked," Harry cut in.

"I beg your pardon?" Malfoy frowned, indignant at being interrupted.

"I asked you to tell me about you. Not your family. Why should I throw my lot in with you?"

"I'm a Malfoy."

"A name and a pretty pile of Daddy's gold will only get you so far," Harry said, though his words had been shaped softly so as lessen the blow to the boy's pride the best he could. "What about you is special? You're obviously smart, so is Hermione. You no doubt know quite a bit about pureblood culture, but between Ron and Neville, I think we've got that covered. What can you give me that I don't already have?"

"Influence," Malfoy responded immediately. "Knowledge regarding the pureblood customs will get you nowhere, you need connections. Something Weasley and Longbottom can't give you."

"But is the Malfoy name something I want to be associated with?"

Ron shook his head emphatically.

"Tell you what, Draco, let's make a deal. We both need each other, I don't see why we can't work something out. I help you get to where you want to be, help you crawl from the shadow your family's name has cast you in and help you forge your own and you help me with the same. But my alliance comes at a cost. You see these three right here?" Harry gestured to Ron, Hermione, and Neville. "They're my friends, and I don't intend on giving them up, not for you. I won't stand by and watch as anyone insults them, so hang the words like poor, squib, and mudbloodat the door. If you want to be friends, you have to take me flaws and all." Harry held out his hand, only a few centimeters away from where Draco's had once been. "Deal?"

There was a moment of silence as the blonde stared at Harry, then at his extended hand, then back up at Harry's face again. He reached out and took his hand. "Deal."

"Brilliant. I'll be seeing you at the feast, Draco."

The Malfoy heir nodded and, after casting one more glance around the room, went in search of his wayward goons.

"You shouldn't have done that, Harry," Ron frowned. "He's a bad egg."

"He's only eleven," Harry snorted. "He's pompous and far too full of himself, but he's not bad."

"He's close enough," Neville protested. "He called Hermione a mudblood."

"I'm willing to bet he's only a product of his environment. I've got nine months to work on him."

"But why bother with someone like him at all?" Ron persisted.

"You saw how easily he agreed," Harry explained patiently. "He wanted it, he wants to be more than just his family's name, he just doesn't know it yet. He has potential, to be a good ally or a great friend. We've just got to give him some time is all."

Ron rolled his eyes, though he didn't outright protest. "You're barking."

Harry's next smile was deceptively charming. "The best ones usually are."