Chapter 3: Chapter 3 Draco Malfoy
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Harry, who'd been quiet, spoke up. "I hope it's good things. I've had enough bad adventures to last a lifetime." He said it lightly, but Jonathan saw a flicker of something older, sadder in those green eyes.
"Hey," Jonathan said softly, "whatever happened before, it's a new start now. And you've got friends." He gestured to include Ron and, after a moment's hesitation, himself. Ron nodded vigorously in agreement.
Harry looked at them both, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I guess I do."
The moment was broken by another tremendous growl from Ron's stomach. "Blimey," he groaned. "I'd even take Mum's corned beef right now."
"Allow me to introduce a little something I like to call 'the universal language of friendship,'" Jonathan said solemnly, reaching into his bag. He pulled out a stash of Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, and a few Cauldron Cakes. "Courtesy of my mum. She said I should share."
Ron's eyes went wide. he breathed, but this time in awe. "Your mum's brilliant!"
They dug into the snacks, the initial awkwardness melting away like chocolate in their mouths. Ron regaled them with tales of his wizarding family ("You should've seen Fred and George's faces when their Acid Pops actually started smoking!"), while Harry, more reserved but clearly enjoying himself, shared his amazement at discovering the magical world.
"And then Hagrid said, 'Harry - yer a wizard,'" Harry recounted, his impression of Hagrid's booming voice making both Jonathan and Ron snort with laughter. "I thought he was barking mad!"
"I can imagine," Jonathan chuckled. "I mean, one day you're living with your aunt and uncle, the next you're being told there's a whole secret world of magic? It's like... like finding out you're the lost prince of a magical kingdom or something."
Harry blinked, then let out a surprised laugh. "That's exactly what it felt like! How'd you know?"
Jonathan shrugged, realizing he'd almost slipped up. "Just a guess. I mean, it's a pretty big change for anyone, right?"
Their conversation was interrupted by a commotion outside their compartment. A boy with a pale, pointed face and white-blond hair swaggered in, flanked by two larger boys who looked more like junior bouncers than students. Jonathan recognized them instantly: Draco Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.
"Is it true?" Draco said, his eyes fixed on Harry. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"
"Yes," said Harry. Jonathan watched the exchange silently, a sense of déjà vu washing over him. He knew how this went: Draco would introduce himself, insult Ron, and Harry would reject his friendship. But watching it unfold in real life, seeing the flickers of uncertainty beneath Draco's arrogance, Jonathan felt a pang of... something. Pity? Understanding?
"This is Crabbe and this is Goyle," Draco said, nodding to his hulking companions. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."
Ron coughed, poorly disguising a snigger. Draco's eyes snapped to him. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."
He turned back to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."
He held out his hand, and Jonathan held his breath. This was it, the moment Harry would choose Ron over Draco, setting their roles for the next seven years. But as he looked at Draco's outstretched hand, at the badly hidden hope in his eyes, Jonathan made a split-second decision that he hoped wouldn't unravel the entire universe.
"You know," Jonathan piped up, causing everyone to look at him, "in the spirit of new beginnings and all, maybe we could skip the 'wrong sort' talk?" He looked at Draco. "I'm Jonathan Blackwood. I'm new to all this too. And it seems to me that in a world of magic, making enemies on the first day might not be the smartest move."
Draco looked at him, surprise momentarily replacing his sneer. "Blackwood? I've heard that name. Old family, aren't you?"
Jonathan shrugged. "I guess? But that's not the point. We're all starting Hogwarts together. We're going to be dealing with classes, exams, and who knows what else. Do we really want to add 'feuding with classmates' to that list?"
There was a moment of silence. Ron looked at Jonathan like he'd grown a second head. Harry seemed thoughtful. And Draco... Draco's face went through a complicated series of emotions - disdain, confusion, consideration.
Finally, Draco spoke. "I suppose... Blackwood has a point." He looked at Harry, then at Ron, his lip curling slightly but not quite into a sneer. "A truce, then. For now. Until we see who's really the 'wrong sort.'"
"Works for me," Harry said, somewhat bemused. He didn't take Draco's hand, but he didn't reject it outright either. It was a start.
Ron looked less convinced but nodded grudgingly. "Yeah, alright. Truce."
"Excellent!" Jonathan said, perhaps a bit too brightly. "Now, who wants a Chocolate Frog?"
Draco looked askance at the offered treat but, after a moment's hesitation, took it. Crabbe and Goyle, sensing no immediate threat, lumbered in and plopped down, eyeing the snacks hungrily.
As Chocolate Frogs were unwrapped and cards compared ("You've got Dumbledore? I've got about six of him," Ron said, while Draco boasted about his rare Salazar Slytherin), Jonathan sat back and watched. It wasn't exactly friendship, but it wasn't open hostility either.
'Well, Mr. Whiskers,' he thought, glancing at the cat now purring on Harry's lap, 'I might have just messed up the entire Harry Potter timeline. But maybe, just maybe, it needed a little messing up.'
The rest of the journey passed in a blur of magical sweets, tentative conversations, and the ever-present rattle of the train. As fields gave way to forests and the sky darkened to a dusky purple, a voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."
The atmosphere in the compartment shifted, nervousness and excitement buzzing like a swarm of Cornish Pixies. Even Draco looked a bit pale beneath his bravado. They changed into their robes, the black fabric feeling strangely official on Jonathan's small frame.
As the train slowed to a stop, Jonathan took a deep breath. 'This is it,' he thought. 'Hogwarts. The start of everything.' He glanced at Mr. Whiskers, who meowed encouragingly. Then, following the stream of students, he stepped out onto the tiny, dark platform of Hogsmeade station.
The chill night air hit him, and for a moment, the reality of his situation crashed over him like a wave. He was a 22-year-old in an 11-year-old's body, in a world he thought was fiction, about to learn magic. Real, actual magic. It was terrifying. It was unbelievable.
It was, he decided as a smile spread across his face, absolutely fantastic.
A lamp bobbed over the heads of the students, and a familiar booming voice called out: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" Hagrid's massive form loomed into view, his beetle-black eyes twinkling kindly.
Jonathan followed, his heart pounding with each step. Somewhere in the jostling crowd, he glimpsed Harry's messy hair, Ron's red mop, Hermione's bushy curls. And yes, even Draco
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