The Anger .

Harry just gently nodded as he blushed a little.

Hermione softly said, "None of the books about that night, or about you, ever mention that side of it."

Harry gently snorted and said, "You shouldn't rely too much on what's written in books, Miss Granger. Most of them are lies and half-truths, anyway."

"No," said Hermione. "I don't mean those silly novels like 'Harry Potter and the Bashful Banshee'; I mean 'The Boy Who Lived: Our Youngest Hero'. That one says it's a true and accurate recollection of the days leading up to the event, the event itself, and the days following."

Harry snorted and said, "I've read it, Miss Granger. I've even got a copy of it in my trunk. It's pretty much a complete pile of hippogriff crap. All the books are."

"Wha..?" asked Hermione, completely confused. "No. But. It can't be!"

Tracey said, "Think about it, Miss Granger. The only person who was there and lived through the event - and didn't end up locked away in prison - is Harry. And, no one has ever approached Harry to ask for his recollections of the event."

"Ergo," said Daphne, taking it up. "No one has given their recollection of the events - who was actually there - to the author of the book. So, ask yourself this: How were they able to get the information to report it as an accurate recollection?"

"But..." spluttered Hermione. "That's They lied!?"

"Indeed," said Daphne quite calmly. "Indeed, they did."

"I think I'll be asking for my money back," huffed the young girl.

Harry chuckled and said, "That's actually not a bad idea."

After things started to settle down again; and the others were talking amongst themselves; Harry, again, tried to meditate for a while.

He was yet again interrupted by the door being yanked open. Three boys stood in the doorway. The one front and centre was of average height but was slender in comparison to the two apes stood behind him. He had pale slender features, almost effeminate, with white blonde hair slicked back. Harry wondered how much hair gel the boy went through in a week.

"Is it true?" the blonde boy asked, looking directly at Harry. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"

"Really?" asked Harry. "And how would they know that?" He was looking at the other boys. Both of them were thickset and looked extremely mean, though dense. Standing either side of the pale boy they looked like bodyguards.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," said the boy carelessly flicking his hand to indicate each, ignoring Harry's question but noticing where he was looking. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Neville gave a slight cough, which might have been hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy looked at him.

"Oh," Malfoy sneered at Neville. "It's you, squib."

Turning back to Harry he said, "You'll soon find out somewizarding 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 to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it.

Instead, Harry turned to Daphne and asked in as overly cultured a voice as he could manage, "Greengrass? Do we know a Malfoy?"

With her face schooled into a stone-like mask, Daphne considered the question for a while before replying with a similar voice, "Malfoy. A lesser House. His grandfather boughthis Lordship, if I recall. And his father reportedly has bought the ear of the Minister. The family is somewhat wealthy. Not in yourleague, of course.

"Oh, and he's a cousin of yours, or some such. At least, his mother is a Black. Hmmm - He might be worth knowing."

Neville, Tracey, Susan and Hermione were all watching their byplay in shock. Malfoy had lowered his hand but still stood there trembling in a mixture of shame and rage.

"A Black; really?" asked Harry mock-feigning interest. "Not an Heiress, was she?"

"Merlin, no," replied Daphne. "Third daughter of a minor arm, if I remember correctly." Harry gave a big sigh and said, "Well, as he is a cousin, of sorts; I suppose I should make an effort."

He slowly rose to his feet and finally faced Malfoy. "I'm sure your mother, as she was a Black, taught you better manners than to just barge into the compartment of your social betters without even knocking first. However, as you are a cousin, I suppose I can overlook your uncouth behaviour and poor self-introduction for now.

"I am, indeed, Mister Harry James Potter, Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter. I'm sure you're mostpleased to finally meet me.

"And, as I'm currently sitting in a compartment and am friends with Mister Neville Longbottom, Heir Apparent of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Longbottom; Miss Daphne Greengrass, Heiress Presumptive of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Greengrass; Miss Tracey Davis, Heiress of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Davis; Miss Susan Bones, Heiress Apparent of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Bones; and Miss Hannah Abbott, Heiress of the Noble and Ancient House of Abbott - as you can see I have not made friends with 'the wrong sort', as you put it."

Leaning forward slightly with his head cocked 'just so', he asked, "Will there be anything else - cousin?"

Almost vibrating in anger and shame, Malfoy gritted out, 'No,' before stepping back out the door, slamming the door shut and storming off down the passageway.

After he'd left, Harry flopped back into his seat and, chuckling, said, "That was kind of fun!" A few moments later, Daphne burst into outright laughter; and was soon followed by everyone except Hermione. She was trying not to smile but was in a bit of shock.

"Sweet Merlin!" said Daphne. "That went even better than I thought it would!" And cracked up laughing again.

Through her laughter, Tracey semi-accused, "You - you had that planned, didn't you!"

Trying to calm down again and wiping tears from her eyes, Daphne replied, "Yes. After I told Harry what sort of an arrogant poncy git Malfoy was, he came up with the idea of being an even bigger ponce than he was and to 'out-arrogance' him. We worked on it, together, and hoped the right people - meaning, you lot - were all in place when 'Poncy-Git' made his move." "You mean," asked Hermione, clearly trying to get her head around what she'd heard, "You people really are those titles I mean - you're..."

"Relax, Miss Granger," interrupted Daphne. "Yes; we are all Heirs and Heiresses of some very important families. Harry, however, is already the Head of House Potter, and has been for a few weeks since his eleventh birthday."

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