"I was told that James Potter, Jr., the Boy-Who-Lived, was in this car," said the newcomer imperiously. "Is it true?"
"He is," said Harry with some bemusement. "And you are?"
"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy." Jim and Ron both sniggered at the boy's pomposity, but for some reason, he focused his ire solely on Ron. "I can tell what family you belong to. Red hair. Freckles. Hand-me-down robes. Undoubtedly a Weasley," he sneered.
Both Ron and Jim turned red in anger, while Harry's eyes narrowed. He recognized the name Malfoy and was quite surprised by how rudely the scion of such an important House was acting. Not to mention the oddly specific insults Malfoy had made towards someone he obviously didn't know before just now.
Ignoring Ron, Draco turned back to Harry but was surprised to finally notice that there were two very similar looking boys in the car. He made a guess and hoped it wasn't the one a chocolate stain on his shirt who was presently giving him an angry glare. "So, are you James Potter?" he asked the more reputable looking one.
Harry shook his head and pointed at Jim who had stood up and moved threateningly close to Draco. The two thugs outside tensed and readied themselves for a fight. "I'm Jim Potter," he said. "What's it to you?"
Draco held his hands up to show he meant no threat. "Potter, please. I apologize if I offended you in any way. But you're a national icon and the Heir to an Ancient and Noble House. You're obviously going to need help finding the right sort of friends. I can help steer you away from the wrong crowd." From Draco's posture, it was clear "the wrong crowd" included Ron, whose face twisted into a mask of anger. "I can find the right sort of friend without your help, Death Eater," sneered Jim.
Draco's eyes narrowed, while Harry watched the display, idly wishing he'd brought popcorn. "Obviously, there is no possibility of me being a Death Eater since I'm eleven. And if you refer to my father, then you should remember that the Wizengamot found him not guilty. So you should speak a little more thoughtfully, Potter, unless you wish to be sued for slander."
"Oh, come off it, Malfoy!" said Ron contemptuously. "Your family is as Slytherin as they come, and there's never been a dark wizard who wasn't a slimy Slytherin, from You-Know-Who to Grindelwald all the way back to Salazar Slytherin himself."
"Oh, well that's just nonsense," snapped Harry irritably. "First of all, no one knows what house You-Know-Who was in or even if he went to Hogwarts, and Grindelwald definitely went to Durmstrang. Yes, most of the convicted Death Eaters were Slytherins, but there were also Death Eaters from other Houses. Barty Crouch Jr. was a Ravenclaw, and Sirius Black, You-Know-Who's lieutenant, was a Gryffindor. And anyway, the worst Dark Lord to have ever attended Hogwarts was Emeric the Evil back in the 14th Century, and he actually claimed that it was his Gryffindor nature that gave him the courage to defy all mundane standards of decency and morality."
The other boys in the compartment looked at Harry as if he'd grown a second head.
"Um, you sure know a lot about dark wizards," said Ron.
Harry shrugged. "It was all in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts." He turned to look at Jim. "I bought it to read the section about you and You-Know-Who, but it had chapters on all the other major British dark wizards since the founding of Hogwarts. Admittedly, most were Slytherins, but Gryffindor and Ravenclaw have each had plenty dark wizards, and even the Hufflepuffs have produced one in the last five centuries." Draco stared at him in confusion. "Who are you? Since when has the Boy-Who-Lived had a twin brother?"
Harry stood up to look Draco in the eye. "Since birth, obviously. And you were mistaken earlier. I, Harry Potter, am Heir Presumptive to the Ancient and Noble House of Potter. And while I will not be as blunt as my brother, I must tell you, Mr. Malfoy, that you have made a bad first impression. I think it would be best if you leave before things escalate into something ... unpleasant."
Draco studied Harry carefully. "So be it." Then, he left the compartment and headed down the corridor, minions in tow. Jim turned to grin at Harry. "That was awesome, Har! 'Leave before things escalate into something ... unpleasant.' Wicked. I bet if you talked to those Muggles like that, they wouldn't give you any problems at all."
Harry's head snapped towards Jim, and his eyes lit up as if he'd been slapped. To his side, Ron asked what Jim had meant about "Muggles" but his voice sounded strangely far away. Jim, suddenly unnerved, looked back and forth between Harry and Ron before he finally spoke.
"It's nothing, Ron. Forget I mentioned it. Hey, Har? You want to learn to play Exploding Snap?"
Harry studied his brother as if examining a bug. Then, he considered the question. Not the question of "do you want to learn to play Exploding Snap?" but the much more pressing question of "do you want to spend the next seven years pretending to smile when you'd rather snarl or scream?" And he made his decision.
"Actually, right now, I'd like to go find the loo," he said brightly. "I assume this train has one if the ride is six hours long."
"Oh yeah," said Jim. "We passed the restrooms on the way here. Just follow in the direction the three mini-Death Eaters went."
"Thanks, Jim." Harry stepped past his brother and out the door, closing it behind him. He walked a few feet down the corridor and then, on impulse, crept back to the edge of the compartment he'd just left. Then, he listened.
"No offense, Jim, but your brother is a little weird."
"I know. When he was a baby, Mum and Dad thought he was going to be a squib, so they sent him to live with Muggle relatives. Apparently, they were kind of mean to him and he blames our parents. He's being a right baby about it to be honest, but Mum insisted I stay close to him until he gets over his anger. Whatever."
Harry exhaled very slowly. Then, he turned and moved quickly down the corridor and into the next car. Malfoy and his as-yet unnamed goons were up ahead. "Mr. Malfoy!" he called out. Malfoy stopped and turned as Harry walked up to the trio. "What do you want, Potter? I thought you'd made your feelings quite clear."
"I did. And, to be fair, Malfoy, you did make a poor first impression. Happily, I don't make snap judgments based on first impressions. And while I can also decide for myself who the 'right sort of people' are, I won't be influenced by my father and brother's biases in the process. Now, I don't know yet where I'll be Sorted, but I hope you and I can have, at the very least, an amiable relationship regardless of our Sortings. We are the future of our respective families, after all."
"I find it unlikely, Potter, that there can ever be an amiable association between a Slytherin and a Gryffindor."
"Then we're in luck, Malfoy. Because I think it's highlyunlikely that either of us is going to be a Gryffindor." And then, Harry stuck out his hand, and after a second of hesitation, Draco took it.
Seven hours later, the Sorting Hat whispered into Harry Potter's head. "Oh good. I was afraid you were going to be difficult about this." And then, in a booming voice, it yelled out ...
"SLYTHERIN!"