The Hogwarts Express's cozy nook of a compartment hummed with quiet tension as the train rolled through the countryside. Clark Kent leaned back, his sharp senses attuned to the faint creak of the door sliding open. A tall, blond-haired young man stood in the entrance—Draco Malfoy.
Unlike the scrawny boy of rumors, Draco exuded an aristocratic air, his platinum hair falling naturally, his grey eyes glinting with condescension. He carried himself like a spoiled prince, born to wealth but weighed by expectations. Yet his smug stance betrayed the same arrogance Clark had read about—a boy who thought the world owed him.
Clark's lips twitched into a smirk, his curiosity piqued. This would be interesting.
Draco's smirk mirrored his, laced with superiority. "So, it's true. Harry Potter is finally going to Hogwarts."
Clark tilted his head, feigning mild curiosity, his tone cool. "And you are?"
Draco's smirk widened, amused. "Draco Malfoy. Of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Malfoy." He stepped inside, uninvited, settling onto the opposite seat with graceful ease.
Clark stayed silent, his gaze steady, letting Draco fill the space. The boy's confidence was a challenge, one Clark would meet on his terms.
"I expected admirers swarming you," Draco mused, glancing around the empty compartment. "But even The Boy Who Lived starts somewhere."
Clark chuckled, his voice low, edged with menace. "Admirers bore me."
Draco raised an eyebrow, reassessing him. "Really? Most would kill for your fame."
"Good thing I'm not most people," Clark said, his smirk sharpening, a glint of Kryptonian confidence in his eyes.
Draco hummed, his gaze narrowing. "You're different than I imagined."
"I get that a lot," Clark replied, his tone teasing but cold, his mind already mapping Draco's weaknesses—pride, privilege, a need to dominate.
Draco's eyes shifted to Hermione Granger, who'd been silent, her bushy hair framing a face tense with unease. "And you are…?" he asked, his tone dripping with scrutiny.
Hermione straightened, her voice firm despite her discomfort. "Hermione Granger."
Draco frowned, turning the name over. "Granger… Granger… That's not one of the twenty-eight."
Hermione blinked. "Twenty-eight?"
"The Sacred Twenty-Eight," Draco said, as if explaining to a child. "The purest wizarding families in Britain. No 'Granger' among them."
Hermione's lips pursed, her silence loud.
Draco studied her, realization dawning. "Wait… don't tell me—"
The word slipped out. "Mud—"
A suffocating pressure crashed through the compartment, heavy and cold. Draco froze, his breath catching, an primal fear gripping his soul. His body locked, his eyes drawn to Clark's piercing green gaze, now icy, unyielding, a predator's stare that promised ruin. Clark's Kryptonian power pulsed subtly, amplifying his presence, a silent warning rooted in the dominance he'd honed over the Dursleys.
Draco's arrogance crumbled, his heart pounding. For the first time, he felt small, exposed.
Hermione, oblivious to the shift, frowned. "Mud? What were you going to say?"
Clark's expression softened instantly, his easygoing mask sliding back. "Nothing important," he said smoothly, breaking eye contact with Draco. "Here, have some sweets. I bought too many."
Hermione hesitated, then took a Chocolate Frog, unwrapping it carefully to avoid another escape. "Thanks," she mumbled, her confusion lingering.
Draco exhaled shakily, forcing calm. "Right. Sweets," he muttered, his voice strained, his composure fraying.
He shifted gears, leaning back with a forced smirk. "So, what House do you lot think you'll be sorted into?"
Hermione perked up, her unease fading. "I've been considering Ravenclaw. It's for those who love knowledge, and I enjoy studying."
Draco scoffed. "Ravenclaw? Decent, I suppose. But the greatest wizards come from Slytherin."
"I also thought about Gryffindor," Hermione admitted. "Dumbledore was a Gryffindor, and he's the greatest wizard of our time!"
Draco rolled his eyes. "Please. Dumbledore's an old fool who fawns over Gryffindor. People worship him because he got lucky in his youth."
Hermione's jaw dropped. "That's not true! He defeated Grindelwald!"
Draco smirked, undeterred. "And? Power and intelligence aren't the same, Granger."
Hermione huffed, her agitation rising.
Clark shrugged, his tone casual but laced with intent. "I don't care which House. Gryffindor and Slytherin both seem… interesting."
Draco's head snapped toward him, his earlier fear forgotten. "You're considering Slytherin?"
Clark's smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with ambition. "Why not? It's the House of cunning, ambition. The strong. Sounds useful."
Draco's smirk returned, eager. "Now that's more like it. Slytherin breeds true leaders. Most powerful families are from Slytherin."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "That doesn't make them the best."
Draco ignored her, leaning forward. "Listen, Potter. You and I… we could be friends. Powerful friends. You don't want to associate with just anyone, trust me."
Clark chuckled, letting the offer hang, his silence a calculated move. He watched Draco squirm, gauging his desperation for alliance.
The conversation flowed, Hermione dominating with questions about Hogwarts while Draco interjected with pureblood lore—history, professors, traditions. Clark listened, his mind mapping their strengths and flaws, his dominance over the Dursleys a blueprint for this new game.
The train slowed, the conductor's voice echoing: "We will be arriving at Hogsmeade Station shortly. Please prepare to disembark."
Hermione stood, brushing her robes. "We should get going."
Clark nodded. "Go ahead. I'll be right behind you."
Hermione hesitated, then left. The moment she was gone, Clark turned to Draco, his friendly mask dropping, his voice cold as steel. "We can be friends, Malfoy. But don't ever say that word again."
Draco stiffened, his bravado faltering. Harry's eyes—those same icy green depths—pinned him, a silent promise of consequences. He wanted to argue, but fear choked him. He nodded curtly. "Fine."
Clark's smirk returned, easy but edged with menace. "Good. Let's go."
Hermione reappeared, frowning. "What's taking so long?"
Clark grinned, his charm seamless. "Nothing. Let's go."
And with that, they stepped onto the platform, ready to begin their journey at Hogwarts.