Draco led him through the halls silently before they finally reached the location where Harry first found himself in. Draco pushed open the door, and Harry walked in. It still smelt like rain and new book, which was rather odd for a classroom. Nonetheless, it was rather pleasant.
Draco walked in after him and closed the door. Harry felt anxiety eating at him. Draco wasn't exactly intimidating, but he was a perfect stranger in an unknown location, and Harry would be a fool if he wasn't at least slightly uncomfortable.
He turned to him, and Harry noticed that Draco was slightly taller. Reluctantly, he stuck out a hand. "My name is Draco Malfoy, Potions professor. Either Draco or Mr Malfoy is fine."
Harry took his hand, noticing it to be pleasantly warm and soft although his fingers were rather thin. He pulled away quickly, and for some reason, felt heat licking at his cheeks.
Draco walked up to his desk, which was at the front of the room, and sat down. Harry awkwardly watched him, not knowing what to do. "Come on, then. Grab a chair, come up here. We need to have a chat."
Harry licked his lips, which were rather chapped, and grabbed a chair from a nearby desk. He carried it over to Draco's desk and sat down in front of it so they were facing each other.
"Now, before I explain more about where exactly you are, I want to know where you came from. Tell me about yourself," he said, his sharp grey eyes never leaving Harry's, who shifted in his chair.
"Well, um, yeah, my name is Harry Potter..." he said, not really knowing where to begin. His life really wasn't interesting at all. "I live in an orphanage in London... as you can tell, I don't have a family..." He watched as Draco bit his lip.
"There really isn't much to know that isn't too personal. I like books, I suppose, since they help me pass time quickly. I also like doing math in school, I suppose. Oh! I'm 17 years old, as well," he said, slightly rambling. He felt like he'd said enough, so he just stared at Draco, waiting for him to say something.
"Alright then," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Draco, Harry just realized, looked rather stressed. Shouldn't he be, though, considering the circumstances? "We'll save the personal bits for later when we're figuring out what you're doing here."
He got up and walked over to a bookshelf in the corner of the room, gathering a few rather heavy books. Harry gulped. He didn't need to read all that, did he? Sure, he liked reading, but not from ancient-looking textbooks...
Draco came back to the desk and plopped the books on top, producing a loud thunking sound. He sat back down. "Here are a bunch of books about the basics of magic and our world." Seeing Harry's slightly panicking look, he quickly added, "Don't worry, you don't need to read everything if you don't want to. I just suggest maybe flipping through them, reading something here and there. There's really a lot to learn about our world."
Harry shifted in his seat again, staring at the large pile of books. "So magic really is real, then?"
Draco nodded. "That it is. Any questions?"
Harry quickly glanced around the room. "Yeah, I've got a ton."
"That's expected," Draco replied, leaning back in his chair.
"How old are you?" Harry asked, and when Draco raised an eyebrow, Harry felt himself blushing. "I mean, you seem pretty young, but you're a professor."
Draco bit his lip again, which Harry noted must have been a bad habit. "Long story short, there was a war very recently, and I know a ton about potions. I'm 22."
Harry blinked. That really was young for a teacher, but he supposed that it would be fine if Draco really did know his stuff.
"Why does it smell like rain and books?" He asked, just out of curiosity. Since they were in a magical school, it must have had something to do with magic, and Harry was curious.
"It's called Amortentia. It's the world's strongest love potion. It usually smells like someone or things that you love, and my class was just brewing it. For example, I smell firewhisky, grass, and parchment."
Harry nodded, wondering if Draco was talking about a person or simply just things he loved. He didn't bother asking; it really is an awkward and personal question.
"Um, there was a war recently...?" Harry asked, and when Draco's face darkened considerably, Harry panicked and realized that he overstepped a boundary. "I'm so sorry, you don't need to answer that!"
He frowned. "If you ever really want to know, see McGonagall, I'm sure she'll have to explain it to you."
The room was silent for a few moments. Draco was apparently thinking, judging by the way his teeth were abusing his bottom lip and the way his eyes were roaming the classroom. Harry was trying to think about what he was doing before he was magically transported to wherever the hell he is.
"So... am I a... magic person, or whatever?" Harry asked, and Draco rolled his eyes, although he didn't really seem that annoyed.
"Yes, you dunderhead, you're a wizard. We're 99% sure. Your Hogwarts letter must have been forgotten during all the chaos..." Draco paused for a moment, and Harry felt a small amount of pity for him. This war must have been brutal to make such a strict-looking teacher wince.
"What's going to happen now, then?"
Draco looked up at him, and Harry realized that his eyes really did match the rest of him. They were sharp and dark, which seemed to say a lot about his personality. "Now, we try to figure out why the hell you're here."
*********
Harry was back at the odd statue with Draco. He felt slightly more at ease than he did earlier, knowing where he was and that he was safe. "Albus," Draco said, and the statue began to turn, steps appearing just as Harry knew they would.
"What's Albus?" Harry asked, and Draco glanced at him with a frown. Harry flinched slightly, wondering if he did something wrong, but Draco didn't tell him off or anything, so it must have just been a sensitive topic.
"It's the password to get to the Headmistress' chamber," he said, and left it at that. Harry decided not to ask any further questions.
They took the stairs up, and soon enough, Harry was back in the large room that he knew housed Minerva McGonagall, who sat at her desk with a quill in her hand.
"Hello, Harry, I've been expecting you. Sit down," she said, motioning to the chair across from her, and Harry stepped forward. Draco, however, leaned against the wall near the doorway, crossing his arms across the chair.
Harry sat down, and Minerva didn't hesitate with small talk or anything or the sort.
"You're here so we can figure out exactly why and how you're here," she said without a hint of a smile on her face. Harry found she wasn't exactly intimidating, but was very professional and formal. He found he felt much more comfortable talking to Draco, who was more likely to express how he was feeling.
"What were you doing before you appeared here? Don't withhold anything from me, I can tell if you're lying," she said, and Harry gulped slightly, still a bit shaken at the thought of magic being real. In his world, magic was a thing of fiction, something that didn't exist.
"I was in my room at the orphanage..." Harry began, thinking back. He remembered his stomach grumbling from hunger, an empty pang where food was supposed to be. "I was alone..." he trailed off, not knowing what happened from there. "I was reading a book... and I know I was upset..." His thoughts wandered, thinking back to exactly what he was sad about.
He remembered exactly how he felt at that moment. His room was cold and his blanket didn't do much to warm him. His fingers shook as he flipped the pages on his book, and he remembered that he was crying. The tears dripped onto the pages but he didn't pay attention to them. He was thinking of his life, thinking about his purpose and his wasted potential, thinking...
"I know," Harry suddenly cut his own thoughts off, looking back at McGonagall from the almost-trance he was in earlier. Her eyebrows raised slightly, and Harry couldn't help but wondering how Draco looked right now. Did he look bored and uninterested, or did he perk up like McGonagall did?
It didn't really matter, he told himself.
"I wished to get away from the orphanage. I wished to be some place where I could achieve happiness," he told McGonagall, who other than raising her eyebrows further, didn't look all that surprised.
"That's settled, then," she said with an air of finality, and Harry didn't really understand. Had he been dragged out here only for this revelation? He had only been in the office for a few minutes, but he found he really didn't mind leaving. "Of course, Draco, you will teach him about magic as I told you earlier. And Harry, don't worry about it, I'll look into why those words brought you here. And maybe, you'll be able to go home if you wish to."
Harry blinked. The thought of returning to the orphanage hit him only now. Did he truly want to go back?
The answer was obvious.
Here he was, in a seemingly foreign world with amazingly interesting things that he's never heard of before. He had the ability to perform magic, as he's been told, and it seemed now that the possibilities were endless. He could learn more about magic and the world he was in, and who knows, maybe he could make a friend for once. The possibilities were endless.
Harry Potter did not want to go back.
Nonetheless, he nodded and left the room, escorted by Draco, who wore a neutral expression. They walked through the corridors and within a few moments, Harry could recognize where they were walking, and knew they were heading back to the classroom.
They reached it for the second time that day. "My chambers are off this room, through that door there. Fortunately, there's a spare. You will stay there," Draco said while opening the door. It must have aired out; it no longer smelt like rain.
Draco turned to look at him, and Harry found himself smiling lightly at him. There really were so many possibilities.
"Leave your room and wander at night and I swear I'll hex you," he said and left to his room, leaving Harry to wonder what on earth a hex was. It certainly didn't sound pleasant.
Harry made his way to his room, and barely had any time to observe his surroundings before collapsing on his bed shortly after closing the door. As he drifted off, he thought only about this world he was now in, wondering if perhaps his life was about to change.