CHAPTER 8:
When Draco Malfoy first heard of Harry Potter, he found himself idolizing the boy with all he could. He wrote letters, asking his mother to send it to the chosen one, the boy who lived. He was young, naive, and ever so innocent as he looked up to his mother who gave him a solemn smile.
Narcissa often had him sit on her lap and explain how he couldn't send the letters. She told him of how Harry Potter was a shy boy, someone who was protected and hidden from the world that wanted to harm him. His letters would not be received and Harry wouldn't be able to reply. Draco had been so disappointed by this and cried himself to sleep.
Hogwarts had been his chance to meet the boy he idolized for so long. That day when he entered Madame Malkin's he had stood beside a skinny and tired looking boy who was being fitted for his school uniforms. He thought that the boy was a muggleborn, but muggleborns were usually accompanied by their parents. The boy looked gaunt and tired, hair sticking out in different directions and glasses that were clearly broken multiple times. He didn't know whether to snarl or take pity on him.
But his thin body and horrid clothes weren't the first thing Draco had noticed. It was his eyes. He first noticed the boy's eyes that he could easily compare to that of an emerald.
A few days later, he found himself on the Hogwarts express being flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. He scoured the entire train for Harry Potter, finding himself in front of the glass doors of a compartment. He saw the same boy he met in madam Malkin's and instantly froze. The lightning bolt scar on his forehead was clear as day, but he felt himself frown.
Harry Potter was supposed to be a boy his age, supposed to be the same height or taller than him. The boy he saw was shorter, thinner, and clearly uncared for. He didn't think properly and spoke in a tone of arrogance that his mother often warned him not to use when making first impressions.
Harry Potter didn't accept his friendship.
He was sorted into Slytherin. Harry, as expected, was sorted into Gryffindor.
Harry Potter was friends with Ronald Weasley and that muggle born witch. Draco felt sour after that.
He felt jealous that Weasley and the muggle born got a chance to be friends with Harry. Time passed after that, Draco always went after Harry.
Harry turned into Potter for him.
Draco had spent three years trying to quell the sour feelings he had when seeing Weasley act so friendly with Harry. That could have been him. He could have been Harry's friend, they would have been playing quidditch as friends. They would have walked down the halls and spoke of the most ridiculous things— like friends.
But it was his fault. He had been stupid when he was younger. He had spoken in a manner, acted in a manner that clearly did not sit well with Harry. He was foolish and allowed his jealousy and anger to control him. His mother would be so disappointed in him, but his father had been proud and encouraged such behavior.
Draco…that is not how you treat a person. Narcissa once said in a letter. She had seen the letter he sent to his father, of how he challenged Harry Potter to a duel and taunted him endlessly. Draco had felt ashamed of himself when he saw his mother's handwriting.
But the Quidditch World cup had arrived. He was excited, hoping that he would be able to speak to Viktor Krum during the game. He hadn't expected anything aside from a marvelous quidditch match. He had been so excited and happy, only for his mood to sour as he saw a group of redheads sitting at the edge of the top box. As expected, there were two oddballs among the group, a brunette and a boy with pitch black hair.
"Lucius!"
He heard the British minister beckon for his father. Draco never found Cornelius Fudge suitable for minister. His father would have been better than the man.
His father merely smoothed a smile on his face, a carefully practiced look Draco had gotten used to. "Minister, how are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa and our son, Draco." Lucius introduced, gesturing to them.
Draco had nodded, while his mother was the epitome of poise and grace. Fudge had done something stupid again by referring to Arthur Weasley, which then caused both men to snarl at eachother. Draco couldn't help but sigh, a bit bored as he listened to his father argue with Weasley.
" Zdraveĭ ministŭr Oblansk ."
Draco stiffened as he heard the familiar voice. His head snapped towards the minister of Bulgaria if he remembered correctly. But his attention was to the well dressed boy standing beside the man. Pitch black hair was a bit more tame, vivid emerald hues glinting from behind his circular glasses.
Harry Potter had changed over the month. He couldn't understand how he seemed so different. It was as if the boy had become a completely different person.
The Harry Potter he knew had been brash, reckless, and had an incredible amount of luck. He had no grace, meager manners, and surely only spoke English. Draco stared at the boy before him. Dressed in fine clothes that perfectly matched him, his posture was perfect, even his mannerism seemed to be that of a skilled and we'll taught heir.
Potter only spoke English. He butchered the pronunciation of some spells. Harry Potter was not well educated in wizarding culture, especially the culture outside of Britain. And yet…Draco watched and listened as Harry spoke in perfect Bulgarian—Draco had learnt Bulgarian but Harry Potter was so damn fluent that it sounded like it was his mother tongue. His brows furrowed as he listened to Potter speak to the Bulgarian Minister as if he's done it everyday.
Potter insulted Fudge without a care, as if the man was mere trash.
Potter had an air of arrogance and experience that he didn't have a month ago. Draco knew this because the last time he actually saw Potter was when he was silently reading the Daily Prophet in the great hall. He hadn't actually taken the time to observe Potter but now he did. The person a month or so ago was not the same person he was looking at.
He glanced towards his mother, who was equally skeptical and suspicious of Potter's mannerisms. He couldn't help but gulp as Potter made eye contact with him. That's not him. That's not Harry Potter . He told himself as he looked away from the piercing green eyes that seemed to look into his soul. So knowing, so cruel.
The Bulgarian Minister took Potter away, leaving them all to gape and stare. Potter had effortlessly associated himself with a foreign minister while Fudge was still stammering over his words like the fool he was.
"Narcissa what happened? Weasley was far too infuriating for me to notice what Potter has done this time." Lucius snarled as he asked his wife. His eyes fleeted towards Potter who was speaking to a Russian boy with unique eyes.
Narcissa purses her lips, "He can speak perfect Bulgarian. Lucius, he spoke as if it were his first language."
Lucius' eyes went wide as he snapped his eyes towards Potter. Draco found himself watching Potter as he spoke to the other boy without any difficulty. He was confused. He can speak Russian too? He thought as Potter laughed at something the other boy said.
He had unique eyes, Draco immediately noticed. Potter had green eyes that were absolutely different from others with green eyes. The vivid emerald that was could easily be mistaken as the reflection of the killing curse— Draco couldn't help but shudder. The boy Potter was speaking to had almost equally unique eyes. They were purple.
It was like seeing the shine of an amethyst from afar. Draco didn't have a good look, but the boy's eyes were the first thing he noticed. It was the same for when he first met Potter— his eyes were the first thing he noticed.
"He can speak Russian too." Draco murmured, catching the attention of his parents.
Narcissa pursed her lips as she narrowed her eyes at Potter and the boy with him. She seemed to watch them like a hawk, before recognition dawned on her face. Her eyes snapped towards a beautiful woman that was perhaps close to her age. She looked like the boy Potter was talking to, ash brown hair, sharp features, and magic that felt rather aggressive. Although the boy did have somewhat softer features compared to the woman.
Draco turned to his mother, seeing the pinched expression on her face. "Nadia Markova's son."
"Nadia Markova?"
"Do you not remember? She was well known for winning the dueling tournament when she was fifteen. I think… she's a bit younger than us." Narcissa explained, "Do you not remember? Bella had been ecstatic when she heard about Markova."
"Mar…Nadia Markova, a well known attorney from Russia. She's a benefactor of the Russian Ministry who's been supporting their auror department." Lucius murmured, eyes growing slightly wide. "So that's Nikolai Markov."
"I heard her son is a genius at runes."
Draco found himself tilting his head at the boy Potter was speaking too. Apparently, he was the son of an attorney and a benefactor of the ministry. A person who clearly had a high standing.
Jealousy was once again what he felt, pursing his lips as he narrowed his eyes at the conversation between the two. Draco was a Malfoy, someone who had power in society. He was the son of someone involved in the ministry. He was someone who had been called a genius in certain subjects. What were the big differences between him and Nikolai Markov?
Draco stiffened as he saw the bright, gentle, and sincere smile form on Markova's face. He looks like a puppy , He thought as he watched the boy laugh again. Maybe that's why. He looks nice… not arrogant… not cocky…not like me.
"Mother, Father… the game is about to start." He quietly said, startling his parents who were immersed in their conversation about the Markov family. The two made eye contact, nodding to Draco's words.
Narcissa hooked her arms together with Draco's, smiling at him as she led them towards their seats. Thankfully, it was far, far away from where the Weasleys were sitting.
Ireland and Bulgaria's mascots had been brought out and Draco couldn't help but sigh at the Veelas. The Malfoy's had a small bit of Veela blood due to their french origins, thus no matter what gender, he was immune to the advances of the Veela.
Draco enjoyed the match, watching as the Bulgarian team struggled against Ireland while Krum was performing superb tactics that he could only hope to achieve. Ireland, unfortunately, won the game but Krum had gotten his hands on the snitch. Ireland won but Krum had ended the game. He had almost gotten up from his seat to cheer, to cry out in delight as he watched Krum zoom across the pitch with the snitch in hand.
Then Harry Potter ended up befriending the young man.
"Oh for Merlin's sake!"
Death eaters had raided the world cup. His mother frantically woke him up, looking startled, confused, and agitated as his father was yelling. Draco's vision was hazy, but he could see her cool blue eyes gazing into his gray ones. He was confused, feeling his mother kiss his forehead as she ushered him to his feet.
"Mother—"
"Draco, run into the forest and hide. Do not leave the forest until we come get you. Understand?" Narcissa cut him off, paler than usual as she held his cheeks with a fearful expression. "Draco, your father and I will deal with this. Hide, hide and get away from this mess as fast as you can. You have your heir ring, it will protect you and lead us to you once this is all over."
Draco's heart was pounding. He finally saw the chaos that had come raining down on the campsites. Masked people were terrorizing everyone. Draco recognized those masks— death eater masks. He turned to his mother who was biting her lip, then to his father who was standing there in a protective manner.
"Narcissa, get Draco away from the campsite immediately!" Lucius yelled as he summoned a shield to protect them.
Narcissa yelled back before kissing Draco's forehead once more. She pushed him into the direction of the forest.
"Mother, Father—"
"Draco run! We will find you, I promise." Her tone was gentle and loving but Draco could see the fear in his eyes. He looked back only once before running straight into the forest.
He ran and ran until the only thing he could think of was hiding inside the forest. That was what his mother told him. To hide, to run. That was the only thing he—a child— could do.
Steady your heart. Keep calm. Hide your emotions, they should never see your fear. Steady your heart. He told himself over and over again until he was panting from all the running. Thank Merlin for his quidditch training, he easily thought as he took in deep breaths.
In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.
Draco leaned against the tree, a hand pressed against his chest as he took in deep breaths. He felt slight pain from his abdomen, before repeating his actions. Taking in deep breaths, exhaling, and repeating. He kept to this pattern for a few minutes before he wandered the forest. He kept leaning against the tree, fiddling with his heirship ring as he focused on its temperature. If it grew hot that meant danger was close.
The sounds of yelling were all he heard, flinching once several footsteps were coming his way. His wand was grasped in his hand, trembling as he readied to attack. But he heard it.
" Lumos! " That all too familiar voice piercing through the air as it was followed by two other voices. Light obscured his vision from behind the other trees blocking his vision of the three.
"Death eaters… death eaters, why are they— Where're the twins and Ginny?!" He heard yet again as footsteps followed.
"For heaven's sake—Ronald calm down or I will hit you!" the voice stammered, trembling as he listened.
He schooled his expression into that of calm and nonchalant, preparing himself to encounter what was known as Hogwarts's golden trio. Harry Potter had taken the lead while Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley held hands. The latter two were shaken while Potter seemed so unfazed that it concerned Draco.
Then, out of instinct, something stupid came out of his mouth. "Suppose your daddy told you to hide. Where're the rest of you weasels?" Draco wanted to slap himself so badly.
Potter snapped his head towards him—Draco couldn't help but cringe at the action. Potter held his gaze, before a grin split across his face. Weasley and Granger were threatening to curse him— completely different to Potter who looked so content at the sight of him.
"Malfoy, ever so wonderful to see you."
Draco found difficulty meeting Potter's avada eyes.
"Potter."
Potter smirked, "Nice to see you again."
That most certainly is not Harry Potter , was the last thought Draco had before Hadrian Potter started speaking to him.
Harry could vividly remember when he had been Arcturus, a life in which the Black family was completely different to that of other universes. The Blacks were less biased, less racist towards muggleborns, and acknowledged the many difficulties of the marriages they had with other pureblood families. It was a time where Harry felt proud to watch the noble and most ancient house of Black thrive.
Bellatrix had a son in that lifetime. Blood adopted as her fertility had many issues. She had cried, wailed, and searched the library for a cure to her problem. But her fertility issues stemmed from the inbreeding of her family. She could never have a child with Rodulphus.
Draco had more cousins in that lifetime and Harry's variant had grown up with the boy. They were best of friends, almost inseparable, the four of them. James and Lily had a daughter two years after Harry was born— Rosaline Potter was visibly more alike to her father regardless of how much she looked like her mother.
A smile spread across Harry's face as he stared at Draco—who was obviously frightened at the smile, Harry ignored him, of course. He had taken the time to understand the boy in his third and sixth lives. Draco was but a boy— Narcissa had said several times upon hearing her son was to be included in the war.
"Why're you alone? Such dangerous times could possibly hurt you." He said in a tone that was clearly a false worry. Harry watched as Draco pursed his lips, glaring at him but also doing his best to avoid eye contact. His eyes were always eerily similar to the killing curse.
"Your parents out there wearing masks? Terrorizing the muggles?" Ron snapped, glaring at Draco.
There was a clear animosity between them. The relationship between Malfoy and Weasley had always been sour. Harry had suspected it had something to do with one of Weasley's ancestors breaking off a marriage contract with the daughter of house Malfoy. Such a thing could easily be the cause of generations of animosity between the two families.
Harry quickly took action—he had learnt almost everything about the Malfoys from his ninth life. He stood in between Ron and Draco, putting on a smile to somewhat ease the boy—had he known that it absolutely creeped out the blonde haired boy, he'd have scowled instead.
"Now, now— this isn't the time to argue. Regardless of whether or not your parents are marching with the death eaters, is it really safe for you to wander the woods whilst ministry officials are running around like headless chickens?" Harry asked, a brow raised.
Draco flinched, "That's none of your business. You should be more worried for yourself." He hissed, glancing towards Hermione. The implications were clear, as Ron grabbed the girl's hand and pushed her behind him. Draco couldn't help but scoff.
But Harry didn't budge. He just stood there, staring at Draco before a sigh left his lips. Of course it was more complicated than what he expected. This boy wasn't the same Draco Malfoy from his time as Arcturus. That boy had been childhood friends with a variant of himself after all.
The one before him was much more suspicious and untrusting of him. Naturally, of course.
"Don't stay in plain sight. If Death eaters prey on muggles then the ministry officials will use any kind of connection you have to get a hold of you. We're not the only ones in danger." Harry scoffed.
Foolish and naive. Not what I usually expect from Draco, but I can't blood blame him. He thought as he glanced back towards Draco, who had gone absolutely stiff from his words. Most purebloods knew of the bias between Ministry workers. Some despised those of Slytherin and some belittle muggleborns. Draco could only hope he would encounter an anti-slytherin ministry worker in the forest.
He would survive, Harry predicted such. He ushered Hermione and Ron away from the boy immediately, to which the two hesitantly followed. They were unfamiliar with his current demeanor.
"Harry…" Hermione murmured as she grasped his hand.
Harry almost flinched, but controlled himself and steeled his occlumency shields. He gave her a small glance, squeezing her hand lightly as he guided them through the woods. The light at the tip of his wand wasn't too bright, just enough to show them a small area around them.
"Don't worry…I won't let them hurt you."
Because before any of them even lay a finger on you they'd be dead in the ground. Harry thought as he tugged at Hermione's hand. There was something about Hermione that lured him to her. Quite unfortunate for him to find out why when he met her as Orpheus.
"You don't have to be scared…" he whispered as he dragged her to his side. Hermione was one of the few people who he had grown to deeply care for. Ron was something like a brother to him but Harry could easily admit that Regulus had immediately replaced Ron the moment he became Malcolm.
Hermione was special.
He maneuvered his way through the forest until they bumped into a scared group of girls. Well… one of them was scared, the rest were looking extremely vicious and surrounding her. The girl in the middle had mousy brown hair, trembling as she held on to a taller girl.
" Oü est Madame Maxime? Nous l'avons perdue —" one of the girls said.
"Er— what?" Ron dumbly said.
Hermione blinked in surprise, before going up to the girl with a concerned expression. "Beauxbatons?"
" 'Ogwarts? "
Hermione nodded, " Es-tu perdu? Qui cherches-tu? " She asked in fluent french. Ron gawked at her, while Harry listened quietly.
The Beauxbatons girl with thick curly hair immediately brightened hearing Hermione speak, " Oui! Nous recherchons Madame Maxime. " The girl explained with an upset look. A boom resounded from the campsite, and the girl with brown hair squeaked.
" Oh cher! Eleanor, s'il te plait reste calme. Nous retrouverons Madame Maxime puis votre frère. " She said to the frightened girl.
Hermione turned back to her friends with a frown, "They are looking for someone named Madame Maxime."
"Beauxbatons Headmistress." Harry explained to them. "This isn't anywhere near the french campsite. The French are somewhere closer to the east."
"Right! Percy mentioned about the countries being in different areas. It's great you remembered." Ron grinned, patting Harry on the back. "Also, since when could you speak french?!"
Hermione nodded before turning back towards the girl, " Les campings français sont à l'est. Peut-être devriez-vous vérifier là-bas. " they watched the girl nod, slowly bowing in gratitude.
They group ran to the east, dropping something in the process. Hermione took notice, picking up the sapphire brooch. It looked expensive, but Harry saw the crest ingrained into the gem. He grabbed in immediately, startling Hermione as Harry inspected it.
"This is someone's coat of arms." He simply said, "I'll return this, you two stay put."
"But—"
"It's dangerous. You two protect each other, I'll deal with this."
Without another word, Harry ran to the east searching for the group of girls. He was fast on his feet, easily catching up the girls.
"Excuse me!" He yelled, startling the group. He waved the brooch in the air and one of the girls immediately started running towards him. His breath hitched, seeing the girl's features much cleared under the light of his wand. His fist clenched.
" Ma broche! Merci, merci! " She thanked him over and over again. Her grin was blinding, so bright that Harry had the urge to cover his eyes.
Dirty blonde hair, tied into a messy bun. Her eyes were the same color as his, but he could see they were lighter, softer, and a bit more blue. She looked to be a few years older than him. She may have already come of age considering she hadn't hesitated to use her wand unlike the others.
Harry struggled to find his voice, gulping before shaking his head. " Vous pouvez utiliser la magie dans cette situation. Défendez-vous. " he spoke in a hasty tone. She was surprised to hear him speak in perfect french.
He shoved the brooch into her hand before rushing away. He couldn't look at her. Not when her face is almost the exact replica of an old friend of his.
"Jennette Sylvain! That is my name." The young lady— Jennette said in slightly clumsy English.
Harry grit his teeth as he heard that name. He kept walking, ignoring how his magic wanted to coil around the young woman. The same face, the similar surname. Sylvain was a name he was familiar with.
So that's your aunt Jennette… he thought as he reunited with Ron and Hermione.
"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked, a frown on her face.
Harry only shook his head, "I'm fine. A bit tired, that's all." He explained before tugging them towards another direction. He didn't have time to contemplate on Sylvain. Not when this was a different timeline, not when the Sylvain he knew might not be born in this timeline.
"Let's keep going."
His movements were hasty and somewhat frantic, scouring through the forest as they tried to find the exit. Harry was more focused on a certain death eater hidden under an invisibility cloak. He had to stop himself from stunning Ron and Hermione and just hunting down the one he was after. But that would be risky. Who's to say he could just pull it off as someone hitting them and missing him? His seeker skills would be a good excuse but it was still suspicious.
He clicked his tongue as he shoved his hand into the pocket of his coat. The yew wand his previous life owned was still there, while Amarantha's gem was vibrating, seemingly cautious and scared. Harry ran his hand through his hair, then he heard a loud squeak. He grinned.
"Found you."
Notes:
Draco's inner thoughts seem to be UnSlytherin-like, but please remember that he's a fourteen-year-old, regardless of who he is. He's cocky and sometimes speaks without thinking which causes many issues with the golden trio (of course, Harry is well aware of this and is more amused rather than offended.)
Kinda upset that I wrote Draco's POV a bit too short, but I'm still analyzing his character.
I believe that the Malfoy's had nothing to do with the raid. Rather, Lucius was unfortunately not informed of it due to his relations with the ministry and the fact he blatantly pretended to have been controlled by the dark lord.
Poor Draco! I promise that Draco and Harry will be good friends in the future.