"Mother, what do you think—how can I become friends with Harry Potter?" In his previous life, young Draco closed the book The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and looked at his mother expectantly, hoping to receive her wise counsel.
"Oh, Draco darling, no one can refuse a hand of friendship extended by a Malfoy," Narcissa said to her son gently with a smile. "Simply ask him to be your friend—just as you would with other children in the past."
"I thought he would be different from other boys, and perhaps require special treatment," eleven-year-old Draco asked anxiously. "He is a hero."
"Oh, we do not need to be servile to anyone," Narcissa said proudly. "My darling is such a wonderful child, I cannot imagine anyone requiring special treatment from you. Simply be yourself, be natural and do not be timid. That is how you make friends who truly appreciate you."
From the very beginning of his memory, Draco had not disliked Potter. He was filled with curiosity and fascination for Potter. After all, which wizarding child had not grown up listening to the tale of "The Boy Who Lived—Harry Potter"?
Father Lucius was also curious about Potter—although his motives were not so pure.
"Harry Potter, who was able to defeat the Dark Lord, is very likely gifted and perhaps an even more powerful Dark wizard," he had said to his son. "I heard he will be entering school the same year as you. You must pay particular attention to him. When necessary, show kindness, befriend him, and win him over when the opportunity arises."
Draco had not taken it seriously at the time—he was too excited about meeting Harry Potter—simply nodding eagerly.
The problem was, Narcissa always maintained a certain bias toward her son—she overlooked Draco's condescending and arrogant attitude at times.
When Draco subconsciously treated Potter with the same approach he typically used with Crabbe, being forcefully rejected was almost inevitable.
He had never considered that he had any problems with his manner of speaking, but he was immediately mortified and humiliated by Potter's refusal.
Young Draco had never imagined he would face such a devastating outcome. He had displayed the proper demeanor of a child from a pure-blood wizarding family, extending his hand—the hand of a Malfoy which could not be refused—and deserved a favorable response.
As for his way of expressing himself—recalling his experience befriending children from wizarding families of his Slytherin background—he always began this way. He would assess each other's standing and demonstrate his family's influence, and he believed he was quite sincere.
But how dare Potter—who had so rudely rejected his offered hand—be so presumptuous?
Or rather, how could anyone be more presumptuous than Draco Malfoy?
Looking back now, Draco understood how justified the rejection had been, because he had made serious mistakes in his expression and phrasing.
At that time, he had not yet realized there was more than one method of communication in the world, and the approach he was familiar with might not be welcomed by others.
In those days, he had not known how to properly interact with his peers. Overindulged by his mother and influenced by his father's sharp tongue for years, his peers mostly tolerated and avoided him—he never had to concern himself with others' opinions. Consequently, he had not realized one truth: his sharp, self-centered manner of speech and behavior.
Potter, accustomed to mistreatment in the Muggle world, certainly would not tolerate it. His pitiful self-esteem must have been completely wounded by his words! Draco pursed his lips as he walked along the cobblestone pavement of Diagon Alley.
Looking back, although Draco's body had developed early and his height made him stand out among his peers, making him impossible to overlook, he had matured mentally later than other children, was more insensitive, and was less considerate of others' feelings.
Lucius and Narcissa never believed there was anything wrong with their parenting. They always believed they had given their only son the finest of everything, and they were always eager to instill certain "proper attitudes" in their beloved son early on.
Draco had originally believed so as well. He had complete trust and admiration for his parents. Until one day, he discovered that his inner world was barren—he was lacking something essential.
But by the time he realized this, it was too late.
These absurd misunderstandings of "wounding each other's pride" in their youth caused the two boys to inexplicably stand on opposite sides. In truth, they did not have any profound animosity.
When they were able to speak calmly, Draco found they could communicate well.
This feeling was not unpleasant. Even if he could not be close friends with the Savior, he did not have to be his enemy.
They did not have to be so antagonistic—they could at least be cordial acquaintances. Draco sighed, feeling somewhat regretful.
He had been too desperate for the spotlight. He had been too unwilling to accept defeat. The sting to his pride had been too fresh and too intense. As a result, he had lost the rationality that a Malfoy should possess. It had been his mistake.
But now he was no longer that vain boy. He merely wished to quietly accumulate strength and accomplish something meaningful.
Today was a promising start. He repeatedly reviewed the conversation at Madam Malkin's shop, confirmed he had not made any errors in his words, and then walked into Ollivander's small and shabby wand shop with satisfaction.