Not What You're Looking For
Draco Malfoy had grown up surrounded by powerful figures, among them the infamous dungeon bat of Hogwarts, Severus Snape himself, yet never in his eleven years had he ever encountered someone as utterly terrifying as Harry Potter.
September first of 1991 had started ever so well. Draco had enjoyed a lovely breakfast and a last fly around the manor on his Comet 260 before joining his parents in the drawing room. They had taken the Floo directly to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, where the Crabbes and the Goyles were waiting, dutiful followers that they were. A few curt instructions and farewells, and then Draco was swaggering onto the Hogwarts Express, Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind with the luggage.
As expected, the Slytherins were falling over themselves to invite the Malfoy scion into their compartments. Draco chose to join the Quidditch captain, Marcus Flint, and the pair were soon engrossed in a passionate discussion of the sport. They were having a good laugh at the expense of the Chudley Cannons when news arrived that Harry Potter had been spotted in at the end of the train.
Boos and hisses erupted in the compartment, but Draco’s Slytherin instincts had started tingling. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. Would he not make a fine addition to Draco’s collection of followers? His decision made, Draco headed toward the end of the train, accompanied by Crabbe and Goyle.
They found Potter easily enough. The bespectacled boy sat alone in his compartment. He was already wearing his Hogwarts robes and was so thoroughly absorbed in perusing a tome titled Advanced Potion-Making that he seemed completely unaware of Draco's arrival. This display of magical pedigree pleased Draco greatly; Potter would make for a fine companion indeed. Draco cleared his throat ceremoniously, finally prompting Potter to look up from the potions textbook. Draco vagued registered that Potter's eyes were a startling shade of bright green
“Is it true? They’re saying all down the train that Harry Potter’s in this compartment. So it’s you, is it?” Draco tried mimicking the disinterested drawl that he’d heard his father use during business dealings, and was quite pleased with his imitation. Potter stood up; he must have been impressed as well, thought Draco. Potter held out his right hand. Draco went to shake it, but instead, Potter waved his hand in a subdued motion.
“You don’t need to see Harry Potter.”
“We don’t need to see Harry Potter,” echoed Crabbe and Goyle. Draco spun around and stared at them in bewilderment. Potter spoke again:
“This isn’t the compartment you’re looking for.”
“This isn’t the compartment we’re looking for.”
“You can go about your business.”
“We can go about our business.”
“Move along.”
Draco watched in growing horror as Crabbe and Goyle turned and marched back up the train without another word. Oh, he’d heard enough about the Dark Arts to recognize an Imperius Curse when he saw one. To think that the monster before him could cast such powerful magic without even using a wand! Draco stood rooted to the spot as the monster gave him its full attention. Its sickly green eyes seemed to glow faintly with pure evil. Then the monster’s face contorted in a sinister smile. It grabbed Draco by the arm and pulled him into the compartment with a strength entirely incongruous with its small body, and the compartment door was slammed shut by an invisible force.