The world sped by as the train flew across the tracks through the countryside. London had melted away hours ago, being shortly replaced with the beginnings of the Scottish countryside. Moors, lakes, mountainous hills, rivers, all insignificant specks on the landscapes when it came to looking to what the train's destination actually was, or rather, the final destination of the students on board.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
He wasn't sure how he felt about this. On one hand he was glad, he had chance to learn and would have access to the school's extensive library that would only seek to aid him in his mission. But on the other he would be surrounded by children who didn't even know the meaning of the word hardship, who were incompetent and whiny. He wasn't even able to escape the unfortunate accident that was his twin brother; Saeviour.
Saeviour Sirius Potter; The-Boy-Who-Lived; his older twin; the saviour of the wizarding world; the boy destined to defeat the Dark Lord. Harry snorted. He had seen the boy's magical aura and it was pathetic, barely even reaching that of an average wizard and added to the brat's work ethic, the wizarding world was damned. But Harry preferred it that way. It was just one less thing to worry about.
He had a mission to do, he would not become distracted by years of bitterness and hate. He had to get her out; them out. And there was only one person who could help him do that and if the whispers were anything to go by, he was still alive but close to dying. He just had to find him. And restore him to full strength.
This in itself wasn't easy as it would most likely involve him sneaking out of the castle undetected; ergo he had to get rid of the trace; ergo, he would be visiting the restricted section of the library and taking part in highly illegal activities. Including those that involved finding the Chamber of Secrets and seeing if Slytherin had left behind any books that may have been of use, but, that was sort of a side project for now.
He looked up as the compartment door opened and saw a blonde standing in the frame. It took him a moment but he identified the boy as a Malfoy, and if Lestrange's insane ramblings was anything to go by, their only son and heir. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he instead rolled up his sleeves and gave a small nod of his head towards the young Malfoy. The blonde smirked and walked in, sitting down across from him.
"So Azkaban didn't erase you of your manners then," he drawled.
Harry gave him a cool look. "No, if anything they have improved. The Dementors are very nasty when they don't get their way." And Bellatrix, he added in his head but didn't think the blonde would like that extra comment very much, Lestrange being his aunt and all.
"Tell me, did you ever see my aunt?" the Malfoy questioned. "Bellatrix Lestrange, perhaps you've heard of her?"
"Of course," Harry said, his voice clearly bored. "We shared a cell for some time, although she got moved to the one opposite after they caught us duelling."
The Malfoy's eyebrows rose with such speed Harry wondered how they had not just shot off his face. "Duelling?"
"Well there wasn't much else to do," Harry said dryly. "Except have your happiest memories sucked out by the prison guards."
"No, of course not," Malfoy said quickly. "I apologise; it was tactless of me."
Harry shrugged before holding out his hand, "Scion Harrison Potter, although I'd beg you to ignore the Potter bit."
Malfoy looked at him curiously, shaking the hand. "Heir Draco Malfoy, but you can call me Draco, Scion Potter."
"In that case, you may call me Harry."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, during which Harry returned to his book, but his attention never left Draco Malfoy, he seemed to be squirming over something. Slowly closing the book, he narrowed his eyes.
"If there is something you wish to ask, please, go ahead and ask."
"Were there any other prisoners our age?" Draco blurted, seemingly unable to control himself.
"No," Harry said softly. "But there was one younger…"
Draco's eyes looked horrified. "Who…who were they?"
"Elladora Cynthia Lestrange." Harry turned his head away, staring out at the world rushing past. "I'd rather not talk about this anymore…"
"Just one more question," Draco said. "Please, I have to know…"
Harry studied him; a Malfoy never begged. "Just one," he conceded.
"What did she do?"
The question hung in the air, as Harry looked at the blonde for a long time. "Are you sure you want to know?"
Draco nodded.
"When her parents were captured she was taken from Lestrange Manor by Albus Dumbledore," Harry said, his voice completely neutral; giving away nothing. "She was placed in a muggle orphanage. She was labelled as a freak, a demon, and her magic reacted badly when they tried to cleanse her; she killed seven muggles and two others were injured in the blast. She was three years old…"
"Cleansed her?" Draco repeated warily.
"Exorcism."
"Shit.
Harry gave him a half-hearted amused glance. "Shit indeed."
They sat in silence. Harry continued reading his book but found he could not concentrate with the Malfoy Heir fidgeting uncomfortably before him. He snapped his fingers and a book appeared in his hand, which he promptly chucked at the heir. Draco caught it before snapping round to the ex-prisoner before him, his eyes angry.
"What did you do that for?"
"You looked uncomfortable," Harry said simply. "So I thought I'd lend you a book- no, scratch that- you can keep the book; it rightly belongs to you anyway."
"Oh, thank you." Draco turned the book over and smirked slightly at the title. "The Tales of Beedle and Bard?"
"It was Ella's favourite book," Harry said quietly. "That's her copy too, I thought you might like it."
Draco stared at the slightly scuffed book in his hands. "You were allowed books in Azkaban?" he said hoarsely.
"No," Harry said stiffly. "I have an eidetic memory. I used to tell them to her when she couldn't sleep."
There was an uneasy pause in which the two just looked at each other; Harry broke it by curtly returning to his book. After a moment, Draco flipped open the cover of his own and began reading the children's stories that riddled his childhood. He wasn't sure what to make of Harry, but he knew one thing; Harry Potter cared for his cousin and had told him the truth- that was all he needed in his mind.