Multiverse Systems: Demonic Resurrection in the Primordial Tower

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people.

A sign overhead said Hogwarts' Express, eleven o'clock.

Darcie and Daphne walked hand in hand, their black wizarding robes billowing in their wake.

With their every step, people shifted their heads, looked at them, and whispered, their expressions sometimes full of awe, sometimes oozing fear, and sometimes reeking inferiority. But, more often than not, the expressions told a tale of unmatched beauty, power, and status.

There was one more reason, of course.

"Ah, excuse me, Miss Darcie!" Rita Skeeter shouted from behind, her heels striking the station's floor with annoying tink. "A moment, if you please," she said, approaching the girls. "What do you think which House will you go to? Of course, given your family history…"

Darcie ignored Rita like the annoying bug she was.

"I am sorry," she said, leaning over Daphne's shoulder. "I had no other choice."

The corners of 11-year-old Daphne's mouth twitched. "I knew you were up to something when you asked me to stick close to you," she said, smiling. "It's OK. I am used to it now."

If a person even dared to think of walking next to Darcie, then he or she must at least be prepared for what Daphne had been going through all these years. But the Greengrass girl seemed to be made of the toughest steel, not complaining a bit.

"Leave her alone, you buzzing possum!"

The shout attracted many gasps.

From behind Rita, Draco, along with Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy, came rushing toward the journalist, anger dancing on the young Malfoy's brows. "If you keep bothering her, I will make sure my father will hear of it!" he spat, twisting his nose.

The two girls kept walking as if the matter wasn't related to them at all.

Daphne's nordic blue eyes shifted toward Darcie and she raised her right brow.

Darcie rolled her eyes. "Protect her!" she said, mimicking her father. "You are the man of our house! It's your duty!!"

A chuckle escaped Daphne's mouth, the sound of hushed giggles surrounding them like a cloak.

Behind them, Rita didn't take the boy's ridicule lightly, though. "Your father will hear of it?!" she repeated, sarcastically. "Hehe! The things I can tell you about your father…"

Rita Skeeter couldn't finish her sentence.

The two girls had stopped, their blonde hair scattering against their black robes.

Darcie looked over her shoulder and met Rita's gaze with her poisonous green eyes. "When flies buzz around me too much… they get swatted."

…

Absolute silence took over the cacophony of the platform.

These days, one could rarely find a wizard or witch who hadn't heard of Darcie Malfoy.

If one didn't read Daily Prophet, then one could just see her posters in the Diagon Alley. The numbers of shops, businesses, and events holders, who used her image to attract the customers and crowd weren't countable on one hand anyway.

Everything she said these days in public, got recorded. Everything she showed her interest in, got documented. Everything she disliked, got rejected.

This was when people were still oblivious to her directly entering Hogwarts' Third Year.

So when Darcie said those words, showing her displeasure against Rita, the entire crowd also twisted their lips at the journalist for being a bother. They might not know what happened. But the woman must have said something deplorable for Darcie to react like that, no?

Rita looked around and gulped.

She snatched her magical pen from the air, put the writing pad in her purse, turned around, and marched off, saying nothing.

Darcie could still hear her mumbles, though.

You will rue this day… Humiliating me like that… I will show you… All Malfoys are the same…

When the buzz of goodbyes and gossip took over the platform once again, Darcie looked at her brother. "Has father and mother gone?" she asked.

Draco was still glaring daggers at the disappearing journalist. He looked back and nodded before shifting his head toward Daphne. "Your sister was crying too loudly," he said, sneering. "I saw your mother dragging her away."

Darcie and Daphne shared a glance and said together, "Classic Astoria…"

"Are you coming with us?" Draco asked, passing by the girls.

Darcie shook her head. "We are waiting for Ginny and others…"

Pansy snickered. "Weasleys…" Then she found Darcie and Daphne looking at her. She blushed and hurried away behind Draco who had already marched off when he heard waiting.

When they were alone again, Daphne looked at the time. "Only 10 minutes left," she observed, concerned. "They might lose the train…"

"They will not," Darcie said, smiling. "I think I just saw Percy… Yes. It's Percy, alright. He just took out his Prefect badge. Hehe! Oh, there's Fred or George…"

Daphne looked in the direction and giggled. "Next must be Ron…"

But the boy who came out this time wasn't Ron. He was short, had ruffled hair, and had an owl.

"Is he…" Daphne muttered, looking at her best friend.

Darcie's eyes narrowed. "Yes, he is," she said, her steps faltering, "Harry Potter."

*

*

Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it.

He had done it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks.

The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats.

Harry pushed his cart off down the platform in search of an empty seat.

He passed a round-faced boy who was saying, "Gran, I've lost my toad again."

"Oh, Neville," he heard the old woman sigh. "Don't make a fool out of yourself in front of her… Oh, my! She's looking at you…"

"Wha…"

As the round-faced boy, called Neville, looked to his left, Harry too followed his gaze and was stunned into a sudden stop.

"She's… She's looking at me…" Neville mumbled to his Gran, who had also lifted her old body straight.

Harry, however, knew the tall girl was looking at him.

Darcie Malfoy… he remembered the name, gulping. He could do just about anything to avoid her right now.

As if sensing his thoughts, the girl with gold-white hair nodded at him.

Neville lifted his right hand and waved at Darcie, smiling.

Harry, though reluctantly, nodded back before diverting his trolley in a roundabout way around the two girls.

A boy with dreadlocks was surrounded by a small crowd.

"Give us a look, Lee, go on."

The boy lifted the lid of a box in his arms, and the people around him shrieked and yelled as something inside poked out a long, hairy leg.

Harry pressed on through the crowd until he found an empty compartment near the end of the train.

He put Hedwig inside first and then started to shove and heave his trunk toward the train door. He tried to lift the steps but could hardly raise one end and twice he dropped it painfully on his foot.

"Want a hand?" It was a black-haired, black-eyed tall boy with a small smile on his lips.

"Yes, please," Harry panted.

With the boy's help, Harry's trunk was at last tucked away in a corner of the compartment.

"Thanks," said Harry, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"Hmm?" the boy suddenly raised an eyebrow. "What's that on your forehead?"

"What?" said Harry.

The boy pointed at Harry's forehead. "Oh, you must be… You are Harry Potter…"

"Oh, him," said Harry. "I mean, yes, I am."

The boy looked at him strangely, the smile on his lips refusing to go away.

Harry found himself going red.

Harry sat down next to the window half hidden. The boy sat down opposite him. They both looked out, watching the red-haired family on the platform and hearing what they were saying.

The plump woman had just taken out a handkerchief when Darcie and Daphne walked in.

Harry backed up, hiding himself completely. He noticed the boy still looking out, eying the family and the girls greeting, laughing, and making jokes.

"Are you a fan of her, too?" Harry couldn't help but blurt out. He immediately felt ashamed of asking such a rude question.

"Fan of whom?" the boy asked, still looking outside.

"Da… Darcie Malfoy." Harry Potter said, almost whispering.

The boy finally brought his gaze forward and smiled at Harry. "Darcie who?"

Harry Potter was gobsmacked. He hadn't been as shocked even after finding out that he was famous among the wizarding folks as he was now hearing the boy not knowing Darcie Malfoy. Moreover, Harry just knew the boy wasn't lying or making fun of him. There was this… peaceful calm about him, making him trust the boy.

And for the first time after stepping onto the platform, Harry felt like it wouldn't be so bad to be a part of this magical world. "What's your name?"

The black-haired boy took a final look at Darcie and leaned back in his seat. "Arlen Black."

*******************

AN: BREAK TOMORROW

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