HP: Redemption of The Platinum Boy

Chapter 6: Encounters on the Hogwarts Express

Chapter Six: Encounters on the Hogwarts Express

Draco hadn't expected he'd see Granger a second time so soon.

That was on the platform at King's Cross Station.

In his past life, he'd been full of anticipation for his upcoming Hogwarts life, so focused on finding the barrier to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters that he didn't remember whether he'd met Granger.

However, in this life, once you became sensitive to a name, it seemed to appear everywhere.

He spotted her immediately—who could ignore that hair?

That mass of bushy brown hair stood on the platform for a long time with its back to him. Long enough that Draco found it an eyesore. Beside her were probably Granger's Muggle parents—he could vaguely see their anxious expressions as they tried to ask the platform attendant for help, but to no avail.

Draco's face showed a knowing expression.

Foolish first-years! Can't find the Hogwarts platform?

Every year, there were always a few confused Muggle-born students who asked for directions everywhere, and they always managed to annoy the Muggle station attendants. Draco smirked inwardly—ever since he'd become a prefect in fifth year, these first-years' questions had been a real headache.

He decided to help the dizzy little girl find her platform quickly before the Hogwarts Express departed.

He certainly wasn't naive enough to think he could simply walk over and help her.

Lucius and Narcissa would think he'd gone mad.

However, an 11-year-old boy excessively spoiled by his parents possessed many natural advantages. For example, he could engage in annoying, uncontrollable behaviors like shouting and disrupting public order.

All right, let's start the embarrassing performance. Draco shook his head helplessly, deliberately pushing his trolley to the path closest to the Grangers. Looking back at his mother, he dutifully played the role of a spoiled 11-year-old boy, loudly complaining, "Mother, there are so many Muggles here!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Granger turn and glance at him curiously.

Very good. Granger, you have excellent hearing.

"It's Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, right?" Draco continued to shout.

"Draco." Lucius glanced at his son expressionlessly, clearly displeased by his sudden over-excitement. "Mind your public manners."

Narcissa was much gentler. She took Draco's hand and whispered, "My dear little dragon, don't be too loud—don't attract their attention."

Draco nodded obediently, pretending not to notice Granger's gaze, and followed his parents, pushing the trolley full of luggage quickly through the barrier.

The moment he stepped through, he glanced back at Miss Know-It-All, whose mouth was agape in surprise. It was fair to say his efforts to embarrass himself in public were entirely worthwhile—her comical, wide-eyed, clueless expression was truly something to behold.

He'd thought she always acted smug and all-knowing!

Draco was unaware that the corners of his mouth were slightly upturned.

Steam billowed from the scarlet locomotive, thick smoke swirling above the chattering crowd. Once aboard, Draco easily found Vincent Crabbe and also met Gregory Goyle. Just like in his previous life, they shared a compartment.

The Crabbe family always claimed to be old friends with the Malfoy family, implying a relationship of equals and "friendship." However, the Malfoy family often viewed the Crabbe family as dependents. As for the Goyle family, they weren't as powerful as the Crabbes, and Goyle hadn't even been Draco's childhood playmate.

He was a "new friend" Draco discovered on the train to Hogwarts.

Due to the influence of previous generations—his grandfather's domineering manner toward the heads of the Crabbe and Goyle families, his father's arrogant indifference—Draco in his previous life never truly regarded Crabbe and Goyle as equal friends.

To put it bluntly, Crabbe and Goyle were members of his grandfather's faction—Abraxas Malfoy, the "Shadow Minister" of the Ministry—and originally Abraxas's subordinates. Therefore, as juniors, Crabbe and Goyle were naturally defined as "Draco's henchmen."

Imagine a proud, unruly boy surrounded by two slow-witted oafs whose minds seemed only focused on eating and sleeping—it would be difficult for anyone to consider them equal friends.

The Malfoys only valued those who were exceptionally capable—intelligent people, or confident people—but Crabbe and Goyle were neither.

Even the qualities most expected of Slytherins—ambition and cunning—failed in these two, which was disappointing.

Did that outdated Sorting Hat still work? What exactly did it use to Sort students?

Later, at the Room of Requirement, Crabbe ignored his objections and, to obtain the Dark Lord's reward, recklessly unleashed Fiendfyre—high-level Dark magic—in an attempt to burn Potter alive, demonstrating a bit of Slytherin ruthlessness.

Unfortunately, ambition outweighed ability. Crabbe put everyone in danger, even costing himself his life. The thought of Crabbe perishing in the fire at the Room of Requirement and the consistently foolish Goyle gave Draco a headache.

How come Potter's friends were all so clever, while his own were all so stupid—in the end, they'd even nearly killed him through stupidity.

Not only foolish but arrogant. So arrogant that he didn't take Draco's words to heart, didn't respect him at all. Yes, that was Crabbe.

Thinking back to his past life, Crabbe's undisguised ferocity and his words: "Who cares what you think? I'm never taking orders from you again, Draco. You and your father are finished..."

When the Malfoys lost power, Crabbe had gradually broken free from Draco's control, and this loss of control reached its peak at the Room of Requirement.

Looking back, Draco couldn't say he harbored no resentment toward Crabbe. He was still angry. But this also proved that deep down he'd still considered Crabbe a trustworthy friend in some sense.

After his rebirth, while reflecting on everything alone, he tried to understand the betrayal from Crabbe's perspective.

On one hand, friendships bound by previous generations' alliances and interests were inherently fragile. On the other hand, his attitude toward them hadn't been good. He'd been contemptuous and domineering, arrogant and smug, humiliating and mocking their clumsiness.

He'd never learned how to be a normal, equal friend.

They'd been with him for years. By the time he gradually came to appreciate the significance of this irreplaceable companionship, it was too late.

Now, everything was back to square one. He was willing to try to change something, even just a tiny bit.

He could try to shed some of his domineering attitude. He was also too weary to resort to the usual tricks of humiliation and contempt.

However, Draco could no longer treat them with the same unguarded trust as before.

He wouldn't give anyone a second chance to betray him.

He lazily gazed at the pastoral scenery flashing past the train window and instructed Crabbe and Goyle, who were eating madly across from him, "You two watch the luggage here—I'm going to walk around the carriages."

Crabbe and Goyle, who were enjoying their meal, readily agreed.

There were hardly any sweets left on the table. Draco tossed a few Galleons to the smiling witch pushing her trolley, asking her to bring him a little more of everything.

He eventually closed the compartment door.

The world was finally quiet. Draco sighed, standing in the corridor, staring blankly at the passing fields outside the window.

In his past life, he should have been on his way to "meet" Potter at this moment. In this life, he was too busy dealing with other things to waste time looking for Potter.

A shrewd Malfoy never stirred up unnecessary trouble. He figured Weasley, that redheaded git, wouldn't have anything nice to say about him either, just like always.

Was Potter enjoying a meal with his new friends, unaware of the danger about to befall him?

Dangerous signs were already emerging, constantly lingering in Draco's mind since his rebirth.

It had been a full month since he was reborn. Throughout August, he'd been busy adjusting to his young body, observing his parents' condition, and playing the role of a proper 11-year-old boy.

This brought him no joy, but rather exhaustion. He deeply felt the awkwardness of the mismatch between mind and body. A weathered soul forcibly poured into a vibrant body—he was in the prime of youth, yet his heart was as withered as dead wood.

The intense memories of his past life overwhelmed him almost every night in his dreams. Pain, struggle, and anger would spread uncontrollably if he wasn't careful. Those dark past events, those foolish choices, those unforgettable memories... He used Occlumency to lock them away time and again, sinking them into the depths of his heart, casting them into the ruins of his mind.

During the day, he feigned cheerfulness, pretending everything was fine. Only he knew that deep down he was utterly despondent. If it weren't for lingering unfinished business, he would likely have been crushed by overwhelming panic long ago.

With a glimmer of hope, he had to do one thing, the only thing he could do: protect the people he cared about.

He wanted to make the most of his memories, to tie the Dark Lord's hands and feet, and prevent him from destroying the beautiful things that once filled his heart.

He wanted to nip any signs of danger in the bud so they'd never emerge.

Right now, at Hogwarts, who would believe the Dark Lord's soul was hidden beneath Quirrell's turban?

What could he do about this?

Dumbledore's elaborate traps, including hiding the Philosopher's Stone at Hogwarts like bait, were either due to his awareness of Quirrell's unusual behavior or something deeper—his awareness of the Dark Lord.

Looking back on his years at Hogwarts, it seemed something big happened every year. Hogwarts had never truly experienced peace.

For example, next year, a Chamber would suddenly appear in the school, belonging to the "Heir of Slytherin," with a terrifying monster inside that could petrify people.

In addition, Draco remembered the diadem Potter cared about so much in the Room of Requirement in seventh year—something Potter was willing to risk his life to obtain.

There must be something suspicious about this.

Danger didn't only exist at Hogwarts—sometimes, deadly danger came from within the family itself.

Draco's former Death Eater father, Lucius, desperately needed to change his mindset. Among his relatives, his aunt Bellatrix was still trapped in Azkaban, a complete madwoman. And his distant uncle Sirius Black, whom he hadn't seen in years, was still half-dead in Azkaban, having taken the blame for that Peter Pettigrew fellow.

Professor Snape, the Head of Slytherin House and a master of Occlumency, wavered between two opposing camps. To this day, Draco still didn't understand whom he truly served or what he was really thinking.

Professor Snape killed Dumbledore! At the same time, he'd saved Draco more than once—making it impossible for Draco to conclude Snape was a heartless Death Eater.

As for Professor Dumbledore, Draco couldn't trust him rashly. Firstly, his death in the previous life was too shocking, and Draco was still unable to adjust his emotions and found it difficult to face Dumbledore directly. Secondly, while his power was indeed formidable and feared by the Dark Lord, Dumbledore was also very cunning and unfathomable.

Without being able to guarantee the Malfoy family's safety and prevent them from being exploited, Draco couldn't rashly reveal everything he knew to Dumbledore.

He must not act hastily. He must plan carefully before taking action.

He must investigate thoroughly before having enough leverage in negotiations.

The various clues and mysteries were giving Draco a major headache. So many things needed to be done, so many loose ends to untangle...

The setting sun shone through the window, casting a warm glow on his body. Draco closed his eyes wearily and leaned against the wall. His chaotic thoughts and overwhelming pressure made him frown.

This was the scene Hermione Granger saw when she walked into the corridor.

Amidst the rumbling of train wheels clattering on tracks, a boy with a pointed chin and dazzling platinum blonde hair caught her eye, prompting her to take a second look.

The dim, golden sunlight fell on his trembling eyelashes, casting shadows on his cheeks and making him appear fragile despite his arrogant features.

However, he was pale and leaning against the wall, seemingly frowning in discomfort.

Hermione had seen the boy before—twice, in fact.

Once at the wand shop, where his platinum blonde hair stood out. He was clearly the kind of boy who came from a well-mannered family, evident from his refined attire and movements. He seemed a bit aloof but not unpleasant.

The second time, not long ago, he'd unintentionally shouted, which helped her out—otherwise, she definitely wouldn't have found Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

He didn't seem well, perhaps motion sickness or something else. She decided to say hello and, if necessary, help him.

"Excuse me, are you feeling unwell?" she asked carefully and gently.

Draco opened his eyes and saw a pair of brown eyes, the color of fine chocolate. Her eyes were very close, filled with concern.

Granger was everywhere. They finally met face to face at the most unexpected moment.

She'd changed into a flowing black Hogwarts robe, looking nothing like a Muggle-born child but just like any pure-blood raised princess.

"It's nothing." Draco straightened up, a faint blush rising on his pale face. "Just a bit stuffy. Came out for some fresh air."

Hermione was briefly captivated by his suddenly opened gray eyes—the color was beautiful.

Then she suddenly realized staring at someone was very impolite. So she stepped back, tossed her thick brown hair, and to hide her dazed expression, put on a slightly haughty one. "It's good you're all right. I was going to say there's a matron at the back of the train, and if you weren't feeling well, I could help you there."

This sudden concern made Draco uncomfortable. He paused, then said succinctly, "No need. But thank you."

Granger's concern was rare. In the past, whenever they met, they'd inevitably been on the verge of conflict—such a peaceful situation was uncommon.

Now, she'd suddenly reverted to being a polite stranger, even showing concern for him. Draco was very uncomfortable with this.

"Since you're all right, could you please help me look for Neville's toad? His toad is missing, and I've already asked almost everyone on the train." Hermione changed the subject when she saw he was fine.

The familiar approach. The real Granger. Always compassionately concerned with the plight of the vulnerable—she'd immediately pinpointed the weakest link on the entire train: Neville Longbottom.

"Oh, I see." Draco slowly drew his wand and asked her, "What's the toad's name?"

"Trevor."

"*Accio Trevor.*" Draco casually cast a Summoning Charm.

The lost toad, like an arrow released from a bow, flew through the carriages and landed in his hand. He raised an eyebrow, looking at the ugly toad with disdain—who would want to keep such a thing as a pet?

Hermione's slight arrogance vanished instantly. This boy was amazing!

"My goodness! You're truly brilliant. I thought I was a fairly clever student, and I was just showing off my few immature little spells in the next compartment, which I practiced at home during the holidays. But compared to you, I'm far inferior!" she said in astonishment.

If it were Draco in his past life, being praised like that by a little girl—especially when she was Hermione Granger, top student of their year—he probably would have been as smug as a peacock.

But now, he knew perfectly well he'd only gained the advantage of a second chance, and there was nothing to brag about. He quickly handed her the toad that was wriggling unwillingly and whispered, "Keep it a secret. I don't want anyone to know I cast a spell."

"If it were me, I'd probably brag about it quite a bit," Hermione said, puzzled. She shrugged, deciding to respect his decision. "However, I'll keep it a secret for you. By the way, my name is Hermione Granger."

She gracefully extended her hand. "You can call me Hermione. What's your name?"

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy," Draco answered, a hint of hesitation in his eyes. He hadn't expected things to turn out this way.

This didn't mean he was unwilling to take her hand. Like a snail's antenna, he slowly reached out and tentatively grasped her soft, warm hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Draco." She shook his hand warmly and said excitedly, "I really don't understand what's so secretive about this. If I could cast such a spell, my parents would be overjoyed. And it must be a very advanced spell, right? I bet it's not something a first-year could possibly know."

Hermione Granger, her little mouth chattering like he'd accidentally bumped a bubble pod, spilling out one cheerful thought after another, blooming into a lively flower for him.

Draco should have been annoyed. But surprisingly, spending time with Hermione helped him temporarily forget those troubling memories—her endless chatter pushed his chaotic thoughts to the back of his mind.

"What I mean is, I've memorized all the first-year textbooks, but obviously I haven't seen any spells that can summon things. It seems just memorizing textbooks isn't enough—I hope Hogwarts has a library so I can broaden my knowledge..." Hermione continued rambling about her thoughts, her eyes sparkling with longing.

Draco hadn't truly possessed such a vibrant expression in a long time. It wasn't that he couldn't fake it, but it wouldn't be genuine.

His heart was like withered wood, and he occasionally envied this real, unrestrained, vibrant scene.

"Yes." Draco recalled how much this know-it-all loved spending time in the library in his past life. Nine times out of ten, he'd see her engrossed in a stack of books when he passed by.

"You'll love the Hogwarts library—the books there are vast and numerous," he said, noticing her expectant gaze.

"It sounds like you know a lot about Hogwarts." Hermione's joy lasted only seconds before a worried expression appeared. "You must be from a wizarding family. I was born into a Muggle family, and I'm always worried I'll fall behind."

"Don't worry. You'll catch up soon." Draco shook his head, clearly unconvinced.

What did she have to be anxious about, this girl who'd been top of their year for years?

The ones who should be anxious were those children from wizarding families who couldn't pass her exams.

Was she really not just showing off her intelligence and hard work?