Cold grey eyes stared blankly out the window, not really seeing the dreary overcast sky that was crying its heart out over the countryside. Pale blond locks were reflected in the window, seemingly aglow in the vast darkness beyond the window's reach. Draco Malfoy was sitting alone in a compartment, completely oblivious to the outside world as he mused upon the facts he had gathered so far.

'Well, the Dark Lord's Heir is here, so better watch out for him,' his mind taunted brashly. Draco winced, the feeling akin to a laughing five-year old poking him in the side with a flaming hot poker iron.

'Odd how I ended up here now. A few months ago, I would have probably cursed the first person who so much as mentioned Potter's name in my presence. Oh wait, I did,' he thought, an amused smirk crossing his thinned lips as he recalled turning Goyle into a maggot for asking about Harry Potter at the end of last year's term. 'Of course, Harry Potter isn't quite a Potter anymore. Damn that blasted barmy old coot to the deepest pits of hell,' he seethed suddenly, glaring out the window just as lightning flashed, lending the scene a diabolical and dangerous air.

'Even I know enough about Muggles to know that leaving a Wizarding child with a family who not only fears magic but hates it to the very depths of their bloody souls is a bloody fantastically stupid idea! Especially if that child just happened to be the 'Prophesized One'. Bloody prophesies…' he grumbled, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. 'Definitely overly complicate things by at least a fourth.' Draco sighed as the train rolled to a stop, finally reaching it's destination: Hogsmeade Station. He stood and made his way to the compartment door, sliding it open but paused before going through. Turning his head to catch one last look at the scenery outside the train window, his lips pressed into an even thinner line.

'Welcome to another bloody fucking year at PigPimples,' his subconscious taunted, prompting him to bash it thoroughly with a blunt wooden implement commonly known as a club and then drag the 'body' over to the deepest recesses of his mind. His eyes narrowed, Draco Malfoy left the compartment, thinking, 'Bloody fucking year indeed.'

Outside, it continued to rain heavily and Hermione was thanking whatever deity was listening to that she had remembered to cast a spell that seemingly put an invisible umbrella over her head. Said charm was now keeping her happily dry and immaculate, prompting glares from Lavender and Parvati whom had both ended up soaked within moments of exiting the train.

Harry snickered quietly beside Hermione as he caught her raising an eyebrow at the two girls. Said eyebrow was accompanied by a cold glare, of course.

"C'mon Hermione, let's get a move on. I'd like to eat some time this year, you know," Harry teased, poking his best friend's side playfully.

People always assumed that Ron was Harry's best friend, simply by virtue that he was male while Hermione was female, and logic tended to reason that he would be closer to a male his own age than a female of the same age and species.

Not so.

In actuality, Ron was more of the clunky, useless type of person who hung around Harry for his fame (which he had recognized before of course, but allowed it since the boy WAS one of the first people his age he had met in the wizarding world). So, that left Hermione, who was the brilliant 'know-it-all' who simply…well, wanted to know it all.

'If she hadn't been under Dumbledore's thumb and grown-up thinking she was a Muggle, that girl would have been a shoe-in for Slytherin.' More than one person had told Harry this already and he had accepted it as the plain truth. Hermione simply loved magic, the feeling of doing it, of feeling the life-giving force flowing through her body as it made everything that was a witch in her tingle. Of course, he more than anyone knew that just because someone was Slytherin, or would do well in it, didn't mean that they were crazy and arrogant purebloods right off the bat. After all, hadn't the Sorting Hat wanted to place him into Slytherin in the first place?

'I should have let the Hat do its job,' Harry mused, trailing behind Hermione a bit, scuffing his shoes in a puddle on the way to the carriages. 'Maybe then I wouldn't have lived in the true house of snakes for five years. Draco would probably have been my friend if I was in Slytherin. Or if I had shaken his hand instead of snobbing him like a right git that first year.' He sighed, shaking his head and trying to free himself of the many thoughts.

"Harry, do hurry up will you? I thought you were hungry. Honestly! Complaining and then holding us up? Come on!" Hermione said impatiently. She was hanging half out of a carriage she had sequestered, her long hair being blown about her face in the stormy weather.

"Coming, coming! Don't get your knickers in a twist, Hermione. School hasn't even officially started yet!" he said laughingly before going into a slight jog. Hermione just huffed at him and disappeared into the carriage completely.