Chapter 5
Draco wasn’t feeling good still. He was tired and the fact that his Uncle Xeno lied about his first day was something that left him reeling. Sure, when he was introduced to Professor McGonagall a week ago, he instantly felt better about leaving home, for something different than Mahoutokoro and its salty sea that made his skin itch. Professor McGonagall, along with Xeno, explained a few things about the difference between being educated at Hogwarts and being Home Schooled or the difference between boarding and going home everyday after classes. She even assured him that he could take as many advanced courses as he had liked if he showed the same prowess in Hogwarts as he was showing at his former school.
She explained that his situation had been explained to them all. McGonagall, even promised that Madame Pomfrey, the healer in charge of the school, would keep brewing his chickpea potion and the counter potion for the lasting effects of the cursed and wild magic running through his veins. She promised Uncle Xeno that he will be cared for by them as best as they can.
And that if they saw fit to send him home, they would.
Hence, his attendance to Hogwarts was a reality. But his Uncle and McGonagall faltered into telling him that the sorting ceremony would include him and that it was made in a gaggle of little children. He supposed that if he would have been able to attend the first year, maybe he wouldn’t be feeling like he was: queasy and nervous.
There’s no such thing as a sorting ceremony in Mahoutokoro.
McGonagall let the hat rest on his head.
And he felt someone trying to intrude on his mind. He turned up his mind shields, closing his eyes and locking down all of his memories and emotions. He felt his own face growing slack at the lack of feelings and the flow of blank nothingness. His magic was singing inside his veins, like it always has been during this specific month back in England.
“Mr. Black,” the voice of professor McGonagall interrupted his thought and he opened his eyes. “Put down your Occlumency shields. The hat uses a variant of Legilimens to sort you in a House.”
He nodded and opened his eyes, glancing down at the Hall full of kids.
“Well, such a beautiful mind,” he heard inside his head. “Such a vast knowledge stored here.”
“Why would you need to sort them in houses?” he asked to the Sorting Hat.
“Young minds are in need of being pushed forward in their values,” the hat answered him. “Just like yours. Brilliant but lonely. So much knowledge at the tip of your fingertips. So much magic that has never had a chance to grow and develop, especially because there aren’t a lot of people like you in this world.”
“What?” he told the hat inside his head. The Hall was silent.
“There is just another person like you in Great Britain,” the hat said. “Hogwarts can help you to develop your magic if I place you in the right House,” the hat said. “You have such a pure heart, always trying to do the right thing based on knowledge and logic.”
“Logic is the base of every single science,” he commented. “Without Science, there’s no development, my Uncle Newt told me so.”
“And then you have magic,” the hat retorted softly.
“But even wizards tried to explain magic and the way it manifests in a different way for every single wizard in the world. Even Wizards wanted to understand where Muggle-borns were coming. Without science, there’s no going forward.” He debated.
“So ambitious, aren’t you?”
“Science needs ambitious people on her side,” he countered swiftly. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“And your feelings,” the hat continued. “You love fiercely.”
“Values are important to keep the ethics of science, if not science can be turned into an act of pure cruelty.” Draco wasn’t sure why the hat was having a conversation with him about any of this.
“And you like Occamies,” the hat added softly, a smirk at the end of his words.
“There’s nothing wrong with scaly magical beings or otherwise,” he stated inside his head.
“I have made my mind up. You will be well suited in…!” the hat yelled the last words and for Draco that meant nothing, really.
“Ravenclaw!” he heard the yell and he blinked.
Ravenclaw? What does that mean? There’s no raven without claws, for sure.
McGonagall took the hat from his head.
“That was such a long talk in there,” she stated softly.
Draco smiled at her.
“Does the hat do teaching hours too?” he asked softly, looking at his robe changing colors and acquiring a new crest.
McGonagall chuckled and patted his shoulder.
“I fear it does not have teaching hours, but we can make a few accommodations if you desire to talk with it soon,” she stated softly.
And Draco hopped down off the raised part of the hall to go sit at the table with the people with robes and ties of his same color. Luna’s table. And here he was thinking people seated to eat like normal people.
“Congratulations, big brother,” Luna said and beamed at him.
“Welcome to the House of The Knowledgeable ones,” an asian girl told him.
He nodded and looked around.
“Where’s Harry?” he asked no one in particular, but after a beat turned to look at his sister.
“Harry?” the girl asked him. “Harry Potter?”
Draco frowned.
“Is that his name?” he asked. “Crazy hair, spectacles and too goofy for his own good?” Luna snorted her juice. “Manners, Luna.” He reminded her with a firm tone, soft but firm.
“He is a Gryffindor,” Luna said.
“He is at the other end of the hall.” Some sandy blond boy said. “With all the other courageous Gryffindors.”
“Why separate?” he asked himself.
“It has been done like that for centuries.” Asian girl answered him.
“Insane,” Draco rolled his eyes and looked down at the food. “Insane, simply insane.”
What was wrong with these people?
Draco was ready to go to bed. He couldn’t digest this school fast enough without proper sleep.
Insane, the bunch of them. Insane.
Draco shook his head and sighed heavily.
This was bound to be a hectic year.
He shouldn't have prophesized such calamities to himself, still he did so last night.
Draco was walking out of the Ravenclaw tower when he spotted the tousled curls of one Harry Potter and the redhead that he now knows as his adopted brother. They were both a bit… askew in the ways they carried their uniforms but if last night's welcome speech was anything to go by Hogwarts wasn’t as strict as Mahotokoro. The Hoghwart’s kids seemed to thrive into prancing around with their uniforms in halves. Or so he has seen his House peers doing this morning.
What surprised him was the absence of the terrorist Ron has for a sister. She was missing and that was a bit weird on its own, because he wasn’t mistaken. She has a crush on his little sister. And he was glad for it, because Luna is as odd and as sweet as they come. Meaning, she is low maintenance if one can turn into the same flavor of batshit crazy as her.
It was amazing that another redhead wasn't there with…
Maybe he spoke too soon. Because there was Ginny turning at the corner. The trio of Gryphons…? Grimmy…? Whatever, the red painted coat of arms members were there. Harry, Ron and Ginny. He stopped at the door, questioning the universe what kind of superpower Molly Weasley poses to keep those kids in line.
He looked over his shoulder. Maybe this was a common occurrence. Surely the trio might be friends with some of the Blue Coat of Arms students. But it seemed so far… A far fetched idea. The teachers didn’t even like the idea of opening the tables for students to intermingle or chat. Draco was wondering how can their government, and by consequence their society, exist and function when they can’t even be a functional team at school.
Ugh.
The nonsense of the British.
“There are some Gryphons outside,” he announced for everyone.
The blond boy that was in his dorm, Anthony something or the other, looked surprised with such revelation.
“Gryffindors?” The Asian girl said, a bit surprised, maybe. Her long, black hair flowing freely and giving Draco a flashback from his old-school.
The friends he left behind.
The teachers he left behind.
The ones he wasn’t sure how to talk to anymore regardless of anything.
The ones he was missing fiercely.
"Seems like that," someone else said.
At least, his housemates didn’t look like zombies on the first day of school. The boy from his dorm leaned on his shoulder to catch a look.
“It’s Harry Potter,” he whispered, as if the bespectacled pseudo-son of the Weasly clan was some sort of deity. “What is Harry Potter doing here?”
“He hangs with Luna sometimes,” another girl said. “Maybe he is here to see her.”
Yes, his little and odd sister. A pair made in hell in Draco’s opinion. His sister was sweet but she can be a bit… Up in the clouds. That always makes her a target for bullies. But the Weasleys are her neighbors, and he wouldn’t put it past Molly Weasley to give a few welts a ground session to her kids if they ever ostracized the orphan girl next door.
“Morning, Draco,” her voice made him stop in his tracks. “Why are you not moving? Are the nargles nesting in your hair?”
He looked down at her and kissed her temple.
“Nargles don't exist, Luna,” he told her softly, careful to lace his words with love.. “We have had this conversation since you were four years old.”
She hummed.
“There is just insufficient proof because no one wants to go hunting for them anymore,” she stated softly. “But one day I will.”
He was wishing Weasley-Girl good luck with that one.
“Harry is here to see you,” the Asian girl said and Luna looked past him and their slowly filling door.
“Oh, hello, Harry,” she said, skipping to the other boy, hair flying around her forms.
Their conversation fell into 'personal tone of conversation' and Draco nodded at that one. His Aunt didn’t have much time with Luna before she passed away in a blur of smoke and new poisons and tinctures to cure something or the other related to the curses of the blood. He wasn’t sure what she was researching until that summer day when Uncle Xeno left them home by themselves.
Draco moved past the door, head still skimming through all the things he had learned with that new discovery about Luna’s mom and why her death made his mother feel so guilty. Guilty enough to keep her away from England, even when he was in there trying to finish his education.
It hurt in a way. His mother refused to set foot on British soil because of her guilt. She still believed it was his fault that Pandora Lovegood, nee Malfoy had passed away. She felt so guilty that when he was a kid, she used to take Luna and himself from the French Portkey station and drag them around to do funny, childish things. She even went as far as keeping Luna for summers to no end with them in Japan.
But she refused to accompany Luna to Diagon Alley to find dress robes and some weird things for her hair. Their platinum, blond hair needed certain products to stay with that pretty, white color. And his mother lied about where they could only find them. The best of the best, she used to say. Except, Luna’s mother died and they never made it to her burial. They never helped Xeno with cleaning… Purging his house from the most painful memories that his wife left behind.
Instead, his mother took him and Luna to Brazil and clustered them in a hut in the middle of the Amazonas for a grand total of 3 weeks. The place where Luna learned about all these strange creatures that weren’t real just because a few Wizards told her that story to help her with her grieving.
Draco believed in those too.
Until he grew up and saw them for what it was: an attempt to soothe the hearts of too sad kids that were grieving the departure of a loved one.
But Luna never stopped believing in those non-existent animals. Maybe, he shouldn’t be so tough on her. The Nargles were the creatures that connected Luna with her long-gone mother. He used to search for them, catching them in the particles of lights that one can glimpse when looking at the light at the right angle.
He used to believe her essence was making all those pretty colors. That she could listen to him when he asked her to look out for Luna. He used to believe those points of light were the soul of his Aunt, the one he made an oath with… To always try and keep Luna safe, if not happy.
He crashed against something… or someone.
“Ouch,” he groaned from the floor.
“Sorry, sorry,” the person apologized so fast that the sound was overlapping in his head. “Sorry.” And then, there was a hand being offered to him. “I’m sorry, Draco.”
Draco blinked and looked up. His butt was hurting because of the fall, but the hand in front of him was offered in good sport. So, he took it and Harry pulled him up, sticking out his other hand to steady him in the process.
“Sorry,” the Gryphon-housed said again.
“It was not your fault,” he stated softly, pushing his hair out of his face. “I am sorry,” he said softly, doing the formal bow to ask for forgiveness in Mahoutokoro.
When he looked through his lashes, he saw Harry flushing red.
“No-no-no,” the stammered words came in a rush again and Draco stood straight again. “Please, no.”
That was so freaking strange.
Draco furrowed his eyebrows.
What?
“Are you rejecting my apology?” he asked, dumbfounded. Heart beating hard inside his chest, pumping fear to his veins.
Was Harry Potter rejecting his apology?!
“What?” and now Harry was looking horrifyingly at him, he stepped forward, gnarly stumbling on his own feet in the process. It was as if Draco had declared the murder of his favorite teacher or something.
“I mean…” the raven-haired boy stammered out. “I mean, don’t bow. Other people might get the wrong impression that…” he trailed off, while Draco’s wariness grew.
“They what…?” he asked, trying to understand, but preparing himself to never speak to the other ever again.
“The others might think they should do the same thing,” Harry stated, taking Draco by the arm and dragging him toward somewhere else.
Away from the growing circle of people around them.
“I thought King Of School was a thing solely reserved for Muggle-Americans movies,” Draco mumbled.
Clearly he was wrong, because Harry Potter seemed to be the King of this school. Such a weird concept. It never happened in his old school, but then again his old school wasn’t harboring the only person to ever survive the Killing Curse. And the only underage kid to ever survive that crazy tournament of hell that was banished from his old school decades ago.
The Triwizard Tournament. Such has been called The Bureaucrat Tournament. Clearly the British Ministry was blind when it came to the paperwork that came with students dying and the mountains of lawsuit that parents with a brain can buried them in. And what was the point of banishing The Dark Arts when the Ministry, being the British one or any other one, was so kind into permitting young wizards to interact with Dark Creatures?
Those idiots might think that Dragons are what? Sun Fairies that will stop at breathing too-hot breath and avoid killing the wizard trying to steal their eggs, fake or not? Honestly, Draco was sure he had never met such stupid people in all his life. And grown ups at that. Yes, the British Wizard Society should perish. They weren’t doing anything to keep their people safe or alive.
Draco collided against a hard back and groaned his displeasure again.
“Is this becoming a habit I should whip from your head?” he narrowed his eyes at Harry, arms crossed across his chest.
Harry smiled shyly and his cheeks tinted red.
“Sorry,” the other said and stepped through the new alcove. “Come on.” He stuck out his hand again, this time an invitation for Draco to follow. “I want to explain without a crowd.”
Draco looked around. The room was very bare in his opinion. The walls were bare, so unlikely any castle he has ever entered in France or Japan or anywhere in the world, actually. The smell was very odd to his senses. It smelled like vanilla and jasmin… A very bizarre combination in his opinion.
Because the jasmine… It smelled like mo li hua cha.
What caught his attention was the chair around a piano and a few other musical instruments. But his eyes were set on Harry after a moment. The other was fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve robe, turning the black color into a ribbon of red from the inner linen. After a heartbeat, Harry started to change his weight from foot to foot.
Draco smiled softly at him. With the grace his mother taught him through countless decorum afternoon classes, he sat himself in one of the chairs. His eyes wandered to the piano that looked abandoned, but he knew otherwise. The small patch of purple sticking from the corner belying the first impression and the layer of dust.
“Harry,” Draco started and looked at the other. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hex you til next century.” He started softly, taking pity on the other boy.
Because, Harry’s behavior this summer made Draco doubt the real reasons for the others to hang out with him. He thought it was in part because of Luna. Obviously, his little sister and the little Weasley girl were good friends. His intuition told him that maybe Harry was hanging with them because of that bond.
And that in some capacity, he couldn’t accept Draco or was a bit reluctant still to befriend him. And Draco knew it was partially his fault. That day when they met at the river… His magic reacted to Harry’s panicky one and they ended up in a very bad, and very raw duel. Their magiks trying to eviscerate the other.
His mother told him to beware of Harry Potter, that nothing good could ever come from someone that survived the darkest of magic. She thought that Harry was of darkness and hatred himself. She believed that was the real reason behind the war between their magics the first time they saw each other.
But Draco refused to believe those words. His mother was wrong, and even if he didn’t have proof yet, he was sure a bit of digging and investigation would prove him to be in the right. There’s no way in this life, or the next one, not in this universe or its parallel where darkness can be destroyed with darkness.
That made zero sense.
Muggles were right about his physics, astrophysics and metaphysics studies. It would benefit wizards to actually start paying attention to those inventions and theories from time to time. There’s no way one can destroy a black matter hole by filling it with more black matter. In fact, black matter has this weird tendency to be attracted and attract light matter floating around in outer space, like some sort of…
“Draco?” Harry’s hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality.
“Sorry, you were going to explain,” and now it was his turn to blush.
Dragon, you need to get out of that head of yours if you want to grab a date for the winter festival… His mother’s words were always the same.
Harry smiled at him, sitting down on a chair, his knees against his chest and his jaw resting on the knobby joint.
“You know, the only time I have seen you concentrate on something one hundred percent was during Quidditch matches during the summer,” Harry said out of the blue.
Actually, Draco thought the other was ready to explain about his refusal to acknowledge his apology.
“My brain never shuts up,” Draco said, looking down and taking a deep breath. “And I tend to get distracted.”
Harry hummed.
“But not while playing Quidditch,” Harry said as an observation.
Draco nodded, mortified already with the turn of the events he was going through.
“I thought you didn’t like me,” Draco added softly after a few seconds of silence.
Harry looked up so fast, that it was a miracle his neck wasn’t breaking in half just now.
“Why?” he asked, pushing his glasses up to his nose.
“Because we nearly killed each other in the summer,” Draco offered softly, looking down at his shoes. “Because… You are always nervous when we are together, as if you are awaiting the moment my magic will act up and kill you.” Draco bit his lip, deciding to be honest. “Because I can hear your heart going fast and furious inside your chest when we are in the same room.”
Harry cocked his head.
“I am not afraid of you, for the record. But you are new and I don’t want a repeat of our first time.” Harry said softly, sighing in the process. “Since that event between us during the summer my magic has been acting up and I need to do a lot more to keep it down.” He confessed softly.
“Mine as well,” Draco offered softly. “But I am not new to losing control. I am just new to being around people.”
“Luna said you were sick for a long time,” Harry stated. “Are you better now?” His concern was real and it warmed Draco’s heart.
“I feel better enough to attend here,” he stated. “I was cursed when I was a toddler.”
“That sucks…” Harry said, looking down.
"It really doesn’t. I’m alive and I am grateful to my Uncle for that," Draco whispered, his chest constricting at the memory. "I never did attend a boarding school before." He smiled softly. "It seems interesting and a little hard to understand."
He managed a smile for Harry.
“Half of Hogwarts is already interested in you.” Harry blurted out when that smile was sent his way. Pretty and enticing.
“Because of my late acceptance?” He asked, a bit of something heavy in his voice.
Harry nodded.
“Don’t let them get to your head. Okay?”
Where was that advice coming from?
Whatever, Draco was ready to take it.
Draco blushed hard. His fair skin was not hiding anything.
“Why didn’t you accept my apology?” Draco asked again.
And Harry started fidgeting again.
“It is not that I wanted to reject it…” He started, his fingers playing with each other. “But the bow freaked me out a bit, I guess. And I don’t want other students to get the idea that from today on they should bow to me in that way. It will be used against me by that prick Zabini.”
And Draco stopped for a second, his blond bangs falling over his forehead in a way that made him look innocent and beautiful to Harry’s eyes.
“You know, I was raised in Japan?” The blond asked softly. “There, bows are a social requirement. We can’t ask honorably for forgiveness without bowing to the person we have offended,” Draco offered, looking down to his shoes and losing visual contact with the other boy. “I think I reacted with muscle memory and not with my rational memory. Sorry, Harry.”
“I never saw Cho doing it,” Harry said, voicing his own private thoughts. “She never…”
Draco nodded.
“Do you think I will ever bow to anyone in this school for forgiveness knowing everyone will start looking at me as if I am related to the Giant Squid?” he asked, sneering in place, then he let it go. “Come on. I have common sense.” A subtle pause and then, Draco was launching into it again. “I bet this Cho person is in my House.”
Harry laughed at the other.
“Well, I am not stupid enough to bet against this…” He huffed a laugh. “Yes, she is a Ravenclaw. Common sense and smarts is you, Ravenclaws, traits.”
“So, am I forgiven?” Draco asked.
“Nothing to forgive, Draco,” Harry said, offering his hand out for the other to take.
When their skin touched, their magics sang and raved inside their cores. They let go immediately of the other’s hand, their cheeks tinting red. Suddenly, Draco was being enveloped in warmth and he looked up at his companion. A blond eyebrow up in his forehead.
“Uh…” The Gryffindor started, his words faltering. “Did you feel it?” Draco nodded, but stayed silent for the next couple of minutes.
Harry hesitated but took the other’s hand again.
“Draco?” Harry called his name softly, trying to not spook him. “I know you are not inside your head.”
“How can you…?” He asked in a whisper.
“Not glazed eyes for the Eureka moment,” Harry stated.
Because Hermione got that same look when she was inside her head. So different from the one she has when she is just… Existing in relaxation, without fear of being expelled or failing an essay or receiving a bad grade. Because Hermione has the same expression during the Holidays, when she is just existing.
“Yeah, unsettle core,” Draco said. “My heart is still thudding inside my chest. That’s why I…”
“Unsettle core?” Harry asked, eyes searching for Draco’s.
“Yes, when you are a kid and discovering your magic…” Draco started and Harry waited patiently. His skin was buzzing over his bones and he was sure that if he opened his mouth, chaos would follow. The first time was bad enough and Draco was pretty. He didn’t want the other to believe him to be a murderer. “The core can be unsettled for long exposure to dark ma… To malicious forms of magic. Or from being exposed to malicious creatures or so on and on. It can unsettle the core of the wizard because malicious magic purges the wizard from the inside.” Harry looked at him, curiosity and concern painted in his features, slowly letting Draco’s hand go again. It hurt to let him go.. “Intention is the base for every single type of magic known in the world. To achieve the desired results in malicious magic you need to turn malicious, beating some of the humanity inside the wizards. Like Grindelwald.”
“Grindelwald?” Harry repeated, searching inside his brain.
“Albus Dumbledore’s long lost lover,” Draco said. “Is it illegal to read during the summer or in general for the British Wizarding kind?”
Harry pouted. The well-wrapped insult stinging a bit. He didn’t let it fester inside his soul.
“I don’t like to read,” he stated. “And why would it be illegal?”
“Because your government doesn’t like it when people can outsmart them. So, they run for the ignorance of the masses.” Draco stated softly. “I saw the Spell Book 5, which is decent, but not superior. And the DADA book sucks.”
“You read that one as well?” Harry asked.
“Didn’t you?” Draco asked, looking at Harry from head to toe and reaching a conclusion. “Nah. You did not read it.” He smiled at Harry, with just the small curve of the right side of his mouth.
“I did not,” Harry said, sheepishly. “It was boring as fuck. A dried piece of chicken is more interesting.”
Draco smirked fully at him.
“That’s what I meant. It sucks because the author contradicts himself during the entirety of the book. It sucks because the process is not broken down into understandable pieces, because the author wasn’t even sure how it worked. It is completely rubbish. But the Ministry said it is good and it is alright and serves the purpose.”
“What purpose? Killing us from boredom?” Harry asked, looking outside the window.
“To keep you ignorant,” Draco stated and raised from his chair. “Classes start in half an hour and as much as I find… riveting to speak with you, I must be going. Your first class, what is it?”
Harry looked at his timetable.
“Double DADA,” he stated. “With the Slytherins.” He moaned.
“Are those the green ones or the ocre ones?” Draco asked. “I tried to find out the colors, but no one wanted to tell me.” He pouted. “And someone actually stole my Hogwarts History book,” Draco lamented. “Said it was rubbish too while laughing at my disgrace.”
“Who stole it?” Harry asked, raising as well. “You can tell Flitwick, your Head of House.”
“Sure, I will tell him how a ghost scared me to bloody hell and back and made me drop the book in the basin I was going to use to wash my hands. No.” Draco sneered his comment and narrowed his eyes on the wall. “By the way, why did you wake up at ass the morning?”
“Why did you?” Harry asked, avoiding his answer.
“Because I am new and I don’t want to be late to classes,” he stated softly. “And I think half of the breakfast is already gone.”
“I want to start Quidditch practice as soon as possible. Half of my team graduated last year,” he stated softly. And I need to drill them and train them into being decent for this season. So, ass in the morning it is.”
“You will see I was right,” Draco said and waltzed out of the door, taking the warm with him in his wake. Backpack nowhere to be seen.
What an awkward morning. And the first day hasn't officially started. Harry stopped a second to take a deep breath and put his life in motion.
And realization made him stop in his tracks.
Because I can hear your heart going fast and furious inside your chest when we are in the same room. Draco’s earlier confession made him stop in taking his leave.
“Humans can’t hear heartbeats,” he stated. Hermione’s voice inside his head urging him to analyze the situation. “Not muggles and not wizards. Not without the aid of special devices or special spells.” Harry looked at the empty entrance. “What really happened to you, Draco Black?”
But there was no one to answer his question.