We're going to meet Lee Jordan a few compartments away," said Fred, not at all fazed by Draco's reaction to his surname.

"He's got a giant tarantula down there. Want to come?" George eagerly asked him. He grinned mischievously, his immature soul shaking with mad excitement.

"I'm planning to meet a friend, myself," Draco started, wanting to see the boy from Madam Malkin's robes shop.

"Okay," the twins answered. One twin continued, "We better get going. "Ready, Fred?"

"Ready, George," the other replied. They stood up in robotic sync and pushed in the narrow compartment and slid open the fingerprint coated door. They quickly walked out, not bothering to muster a simple goodbye.

They left Draco all alone in the compartment. Resisting the urge to casually browse through the twin's belongings, Draco stood up and also ditched the compartment.

He walked into the center aise and headed towards the compartment where he had seen the boy last. The boy was still sitting there, but he was accompanied by the redheaded boy, Ron Weasley, and their compartment was littered with half-opened chocolates and sugary candy.

Draco sighed. The boy wasn't the most pleasant person, anyway. Disappointed he didn't enter sooner, Draco walked to the front of the train with the hopes of finding somebody else to sit with. As he walked further, he paused at a nearly empty compartment with a bushy-haired girl with her nosed buried deeply in a thick leather bound book and a blue-haired girl proudly wearing a emerald green and silver tie.

Draco slid open the compartment door. "Do you mind if I would join you?" Draco asked.

The bushy haired girl glanced up at Draco from her book, her lips pursed judgmentally. "Not at all," she said curtly, and she returned her attention to her book as if that was much more interesting than a living human.

Draco hesitated a moment before stepping in a closing the door behind him.

"Sit down," the bushy haired girl ordered him in a bossy tone.

Draco reluctantly plopped down on the seat beside her.

The girl slammed her book shut. Her book was titled; Hogwarts: A History. "I am Hermione Granger. And you must be...?"

"Malfoy, Draco Malfoy," he answered, extending his arm for a shake. She flinched, but she still shook it after her own brief hesitation. Draco turned to the other girl.

"You introduce yourself strange. What's so special about your surname? But the name's Anastasia Dolohov," she informed Draco with a careless, lopsided grin. She had skriking turquoise hair and heavily lidded forest green eyes. "I am a third year. It's just as terrifying as the first, so don't get your happy little hopes up."

"How is Potions, that subject looks very interesting," asked Hermione, leaning in and prepared to be highly intrigued.

"Professor Snape, he teaches potions, is reasonably biased. I mean, he absolutely despises Gryffindor. I mean, I don't quite blame him though, half of that lot is always like, 'Look at me, I'm the best. I'm so popular and everyone loves me. Kiss me, bitch. Especially Dumbledore, since he always gives us extra points just for being in Gryffindor.'" Anastasia impersonated in a high-pitched, nasally tone.

"Gryffindors don't seem too bad. Some of the greatest wizards came from Gryffindor," interjected Hermione. "I mean, I am personally hoping for Gryffindor or even Ravenclaw."

Anastasia shrugged and crossed her lengthy legs. "Whatever. But there's these two Gryffindors in my year, they are identical twins to be exact, and they give the poor teachers so much trouble. One time they set off dungbombs in Professor Snape's desk. They got detention for a good two months, but Merlin's beard, it was worth it."

Draco wrinkled his eyebrows. "Wait," he began. "Are they those redheaded twins? About my height?"

Anastasia nodded. "You met them? They're a professor's worst nightmare. They still seem to get good marks, though. I have all of my classes with George, or is it Fred?" Anastasia answered. She scanned Draco up and down. "You said you're a Malfoy, didn't you? You do look much like Lucius, do you get that a lot?"

Draco weakly nodded. It was not much to be proud of. He admitted, "Yeah, I've heard that a good amount."

"At least your hair isn't as long as his, or I would have assumed your parents had a secret daughter."

"Hey!" Draco protested, teasingly narrowing his eyes at Anastasia.

"At least I am being honest. The truth hurts, but it's better than lying," said Anastasia. She shrugged, a wide smile stretching her face.

Next to him, Hermione was yawning, almost half asleep, but still interested reading her book. She seemed to easily block out Draco and Anastasia's conversation.

Speaking of being a Malfoy," Hermione began, pausing a moment as she yawned widely. "Aren't the Malfoys death eaters?"

Draco tensed up and nervously glanced at Anastasia who was slightly pink. Anastasia reluctantly nodded, confirming Hermione's thoughts. Their parents were both death eaters, Lucius Malfoy and Antonin Dolohov. Draco and Anastasia did not have any control whatsoever over their parents actions. But it did not mean Hermione would understand. Draco just stared at Hermione, his bottom lip trembling.

Outraged, Hermione dropped her book on the floor and tore out of the compartment, her face tomato red. As she rounded the corner, she bitterly shrieked, "You're going to be death eaters!"

"I don't think she is coming back, is she?" Draco asked, his voice merely a whisper.

"Nope," Anastasia replied, her mouth in a thin, tight line. "But do I look like I care?"

"No," said Draco.

Suddenly, a faint smile flickered on Anastasia's tanned, square-jawed face as her eyes fell on something on the floor. She bent down and picked up Hermione's book. "Well, she may be returning," Anastasia corrected herself, tightly clutching the book.

As Anastasia predicted, Hermione soon rushed into the compartment, appearing slightly frazzled.

"You've forgotten something," Anastasia sourly said, pursing her lips in irritation. She tossed Hermione her book. "Go ahead. Hang out with your better friends."

"I was thinking on staying," Hermione stated shyly before sitting down next to Draco.

"Good for you," Anastasia bitterly replied, her words snapping like a rubber band. It was truly obvious she did not ever want to forgive Hermione for what she had said.

"I just thought you'd hate me for being a muggleborn," admitted Hermione.

"Lovely," growled Anastasia. "You expect me to think that way since I am in Slytherin? I bet you wouldn't think the same way if I was in Gryffindor," she challenged.

"No...I..."

"You're lying," accused Anastasia. "I can see it in your eyes!"

"I am sorry."

After a quick second of uncomfortable silence, a round-faced, teary eyed boy stood in front of the compartment, his hand on the glass door ready to knock. The boy reconsidered and slid open the door. He trembled, "H-have you seen T-Trevor?"

"Who's Trevor? A friend of yours?" Draco asked standing up to aid in his search.

"No, my toad," the sad boy replied, sniffling. The boy looked like he was on the verge of tears. He rubbed his eyes and moved bis dark blonde hair out of his eyeshot.

Draco immediately sat back down. There was no possible way he was going to be convinced to search for a slimy toad. Anastasia snorted, not budging an inch.

Hermione stood up. "Well, I will be going to help..."

"My name is Neville," the boy informed her.

"Yes," she said. "I will be going to help Neville find his toad. If you would excuse me, I will be searching for his pet toad." Hermione stood up and took Neville by the arm. She led Neville away to look for his long lost toad.

"You have been excused long ago, princess," Anastasia muttered, staring at Hermione's back as she left.

"So, um, you're Dolohov's daughter, aren't you?" Draco questioned awkwardly.

"Yeah, and I am not proud of it. Who would be if half of the county treat me like scum and call me an 'old Voldy lover'. I couldn't stop them even if I actually tried. I just gotta live with it. It's pointless, and he will never stop being my father, and I will have no choice but to endure it," Anastasia answered. She stretched out her long legs and rested them on the spot were Hermione previously sat. She shoved her index finger in her mouth.

"You like to talk, don't you?" Draco said, trying to lighten the dark subject.

Anastasia nodded, smiling. "Since you've been here, I'm pretty sure I've spoken more than both you and Hermione combined," she stated through her finger in her mouth. "Truefully, I didn't even say a word to Hermione before you came. I was just intruding in her territory."

Draco laughed.

"What house do you want to be in?"

"I wouldn't mind Slytherin. Although Hufflepuffs truly don't seem much too bad," Draco answered.

Her jaw dropped. If she currently had any food in her mouth it would now be splattered all over Draco creased suit. "Hufflepuffs? Come on now, really?"

"What do you mean?" questioned Draco, tilting his head.

"They're the leftovers. Even the Sorting Song sometimes states that the Hufflepuff founder-lady, whatever her name is, said oh-so clearly that she'll take the rest, the remainders that don't quite fit in with the others. The leftovers."

"Oh."

Anastasia forced a grin as her hair changed to a depressing shade of silver. "But that's what I am. A forgotten outcast with no place in the world," She paused, thinking. "And a dreaded surname."

Draco nodded, and mustered a weak reassuring smile. He was going though the same thing as she was. He knew exactly how she felt. It was the same thing he felt over and over.

Unwanted. Not good enough. Lonely. Insecure. Unwanted. Forgotten. An unnecessary bump in the road, according to his father.

Anastasia took a deep breath, leaning against the window. "I hope you get into Slytherin, the common room is absolutely huge. It is really dark though, but the view to the black lake is truly beautiful," she said calmly and drastically quiet. She paused and took a deep breath as her hair morphed into a shade of dark, murky green. "Honestly, you would be my only friend in Slytherin. I may rub others the wrong way."

"Then, I guess we shall get along quite well," Draco added.

Anastasia laughed in reply as her hair changed back to her normal turquoise.

Suddenly, the glass door slid open. Draco and Anastasia whipped their heads around to see who it was. Hermione stood at the entrance, her hair staticy and her expression thoroughly irritated.

"What's wrong with you?" Anastasia asked, her voice heavily doused in fake worry and care. She casually twirled her hair as it slowly changed to a curious shade of white.

"Anastasia, you're a Metamorphmagus!" Hermione exclaimed, greatly astonished.

"Humph. I guess I didn't know. I am so talented, am I not?" said Anastasia sarcastically. "Like I said before, what's wrong with you?"

Hermione sat beside Draco and began speaking. "I just met Harry Potter!" she blurted out.

"Oh," said Anastasia. "He's terribly wonderful, isn't he?"

"Wonderful? He's reasonably wonderful. Well, slightly. But not at all great by any means. He seems like a good person, and after all he's the boy who lived. He must be powerful, for he defeated a dark wizard as a baby! And the boy must be rich. Him and his friend purchased the entire candy trolley. And that blibbering idiot has not even got his robes on yet," Hermione rambled on, a flood of clearly mixed opinions.

Anastasia deadpanned, "Your ranting."

Draco looked down to see his outfit. He wasn't wearing his robes yet, himself. "Um..."

"That boy sent my father to Azkaban. If You-Know-Who wasn't defeated by a puny baby who lived, my father wouldn't be living in a cramped jail cell. I would actually know him," Anastasia ranted angrily, slamming her hands on the red seat.

Hermione flinched. "But Dolohov's a disgusting murderous-" she began.

"I know exactly what my father is, Granger!" Anastasia roared, gladly interrupting Hermione. She took a deep breath, exaggerating her attempts to calm down. "He...is...still...my...father. And I have no choice whatsoever about that."

"I apologize," Hermione stated, not fazed whatsoever. She brushed imaginary specks of dust off of her robes before standing up. "The train should be arriving soon. You better get dressed, Malfoy. I should continue to assisting Neville. We need to find his toad before the train arrives at Hogwarts," she stated before she exited the compartment.

"She is just too much," Anastasia muttered.

"What do you mean?"

Anastasia glared at Draco, wicked fire in her eyes. "You are so oblivious!" she accused, her eyes narrowing even farther. "She is so insensitive when it comes to others yet so sensitive when it comes to herself," snapped Anastasia. She snorted and rolled her large eyes. "And she expects sympathy back. Well, she is not ever getting any from me."

"Anastasia, just give her a chance for once. I mean, you already screamed bloody murder at that poor girl's face. She learned her lesson," Draco said. "You gotta forgive her, then she'll grow on you. Simple as that."

"Do I look like I want a little Granger growing on my elbow?" Anastasia grumbled, crossing her muscular arms. She sighed and began, "You need to change into your robes don't you? We are nearing Hogwarts. At least that idiot muggleborn was right about one thing."

Draco stood up, highly reluctant to leave Anastasia alone at a time like this. "True. I guess I better get changed," said Draco. He glanced out the window. He raised his arm and pointed at a black shadow hidden behind lofty trees. "Right over there, behind those trees is the manor. My home. So we must be nearing the school. Only about ten short minutes away," said Draco, slowly walking away from their compartment and to the front of the train, where he assumed the bathrooms are located.

But then he took a little detour, curious to see who else was at hidden in nearby compartments. He paused and stopped by a compartment filled by two bulky, roundfaced boys. They sat across from each other, sitting silently and staring into nothingness.

Draco knocked on the door. He awkwardly waved with a wavering smile. He dug his jagged, bitten nails into his palm as he let his arm fall down to his side.

The boys were Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, two over-fed sons of two high ranking Death eaters. They were unbearably clingy and they never quite understood the meaning of the phrase "leave me alone." Draco unhappily found out when they were left at the manor then their parents were on "business trips" on multiple occasions. Crabbe and Goyle were remarkably round and mentally dull. Dreadfully the worst combinations of personal faults anyone could have. Both Crabbe and Goyle stood up and made their way to the door, and slid it open.

Draco mentally cursed himself. Why did I just have to wave, he scolded himself. If I didn't, they wouldn't come out and I would be freer than a house elf.

Crabbe burst out first. "Potter's here."

"Potter?" Draco repeated, slightly confused. "Wait...Potter? The Harry Potter? The Boy Who Lived?

Goyle nodded his head frantically.

Draco raised an eyebrow, astounded that the lump could move so fast, even if it was just his head. He asked, "Where?"

Crabbe pushed through Draco and Goyle and led them through the aisle, and stopped in front of a compartment a yards down. He pointed to a boy sitting sprawled out on a seat. He wasn't much to look at, but he was Harry Potter. And the boy from Madam Malkins.

"That's him? That's Potter?" Draco asked sneering. "Father will be proud."

Draco slid open the compartment door. Draco smiled and asked, "Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Yes the boy answered. He didn't seem to be much interested in their conversation. The boy directed his eyes to Crabbe and Goyle with the slightest flash of fear in his eyes.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and Goyle," Draco asid carelessly. As if on cue Goyle cracked his knuckles. Wanting to add himself in on the conversation, he introduced himself by saying, "And my name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

Ron Weasley released a subtle cough, which Draco assumed to be a not so subtle way of covering up a little snigger.

Draco whipped his head to face the redhead. He stepped forward. "You think my name's funny, don't you? No need to ask who you are, my father told me all about the Weasleys. They all have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." Draco winced. He felt like his father, which, of course was not what he wanted to feel at the moment. That wasn't much of a conversation starter, was it? he thought. He turned his head to Harry Potter, hoping the Weasley boy wasn't listening. A change of subject saved me last time, let's hope it would now. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

Draco extended his hand to shake Potter's but he did not take it. "I think I can tell who the wrong sort is for myself, thank you," Potter replied coldly, his eyes narrowing in pure distaste.

Draco felt his face heat up and redden. He tensed up, irritated once more. "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter."