Homesick

There’s a story about a little boy trapped in the cupboard under the stairs. A story about a boy who didn’t know how special he was, who couldn’t explain the strange things that happened to him until his Aunt’s house was bombarded with letters. Who didn’t know what was happening when his Uncle dragged their family to a broken down home in the middle of a lake, who couldn’t believe it when a giant showed up to give him a birthday cake of all things. A boy who did everything he was expected to do, met who he was expected to meet, trusted who he was expected to trust.

And then there was Harry Potter–a little boy trapped in the cupboard under the stairs who knew that weird things happened to him and decided to call it magic. A little boy, born in a body that couldn’t be his and learned how to use that magic to keep himself alive. He kept quiet, kept out of trouble–though his uncle still always found some excuse to beat him regardless–and didn’t speak up or argue against anyone who decided he wasn’t good enough, smart enough, pretty enough.

The most outrageous thing he’d done was chop all of his hair off when he’d turned eight. A single rebellious action in a desperate attempt to feel just a little bit more like the boy he knew he was. He’d been honestly surprised that his Aunt had allowed it, grumbling about how at least this way it’d be easier to manage and had simply told the school he’d had lice when they asked about the sudden change.

When he got his letter–addressed to one “Missus Harriett Potter, The Cupboard Under the Stairs, Number 4. Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey”–he’d thought it was a joke. Harry never received letters. The closest he got was his school lists and order forms which were always addressed to his Aunt, not him.

Needless to say, Harry had whisked it away to his cupboard immediately, the letter disappearing from his fingertips only to reappear under his pillow in an instant. It wouldn’t do him any good for his cousin to see it, or worse… his uncle.

Harry loved his magic, even if it did cause him a lot of grief when it came to his relatives. It was the only thing about him that felt truly right. The way it sang under his skin when he used it, like it was happy and proud at how smart he was with it, how good he was with it.

Not that he ever used it in front of his relatives of course. That was practically a death sentence. But he’d managed to use it for little things as he grew older. Healing wounds just a little faster than normal, stealing food from the neighbors without leaving his cupboard, even casting a small light under his blanket so he could read without his aunt or uncle catching him. Honestly, Harry wasn’t sure what he’d do without his magic.

Which is why this letter was so suspicious, really. Harry had never known anyone else who had magic, and hadn’t managed to find any sort of information about it on the many, many occasions he’d looked at the library. Harry had thought he was the only one.

But a school for it? Truly that couldn’t be real?

Well, Harry supposed, staring down at the letter that night when he’d finally unfolded it, he could at least take a visit and see if it was real. Besides, his magic wasn’t warning him about the letter, and it usually did when something was wrong. 

The letter mentioned getting his supplies in a place called Diagon Alley, London. Harry still wasn’t the best at what he called ‘stepping’, but it was so much easier when he knew the name of a place.

He’d had to wait nearly a whole week and a half before he could take the trip. The Dursleys had left him locked in his cupboard for the weekend while they left on a little trip to celebrate Dudley’s birthday even though it was already long passed. (Harry suspected it was more so they could avoid the fact that it was his birthday instead, but truly it worked out in his benefit.) 

He didn’t have anything much better to wear than Dudley’s old clothes, but he threw on his best flannel anyway, tugged on his trainers, and shoved the letter and a handful of bills that he’d stolen from Dudley’s candy fund (his cousin couldn’t count money well anyway), into his pockets before willing his magic to unlock the padlock of his door.

As soon as he was out, he stretched his legs and back, sore from the beating Uncle Vernon had given him the day before in warning. (“Do not do anything stupid, girl. I’ll know it! I will! You even think about leaving this cupboard while we’re gone and you’ll wish you were never born, you hear me?”)

Jokes on Vernon, because Harry often times wished he was never born.

With a deep breath, the boy wrapped his fingers around the letter in his pocket and closed his eyes. He could feel his magic welling up inside him, like an eager puppy ready to be taken on a walk. Bubbling under his skin in a way that made him want to giggle.

“I’d like to go to Diagon Alley, please,” he said in a croaky whisper, his throat unused to speaking. 

And then, he took a step.

The silence of the empty house around him gave way to a loud, bustling street and when Harry dared to open his eyes, his heart nearly stopped in shock.

The letter had been right. Magic was real, magic outside of himself that is. The whole alley was filled to the brim with people in strange clothes and pointed hats, owls fluttering through the air, and the taste of magic flooding Harry’s mouth like a fresh drink of water on a hot summer’s day.

It was almost overwhelming, but in all the best ways.

“Excuse me dear, are you lost?”

Harry jumped slightly, turning towards a woman beside him. She was incredibly tall, and one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, with brown and white hair and gorgeous silver eyes. Silver. Harry had never seen anyone with eyes like that before.

When he didn’t say anything, she knelt down before him and gave a smile. “Are you here to shop for your Hogwarts things?”

Harry swallowed, part of him terrified of speaking to someone he didn’t know, but the other part knowing he had no idea where to even start in a world he hadn’t been sure existed until a moment ago. So, as politely as he could, he nodded, tugging out his school list to hand to her. It didn’t have his name on it, which he was grateful for. He didn’t know if the woman knew he was a boy or not, but he’d rather introduce himself if given the chance.

“My guardians dropped me off to pick up my things,” Harry said quietly. So quietly in fact that he feared she might not hear him over the clamoring of feet over cobblestone paths.

The woman glanced it over once before her brow furrowed. “They’ve left a few of the supplementary texts off the list here. Tell me, have you had tutors before?”

Harry shook his head and she tutted. For a moment, Harry was terrified he’d given her the wrong answer and his fists clenched at his sides, but she only glanced back at the list and made a decisive nod. “Well, my son will be attending Hogwarts as well this year, so why don’t you join us for your shopping? It’d be nice for him to meet a new friend and you look absolutely terrified to be out here on your own. I can help you get the extra books they seem to have forgotten here. Have you gotten money from your accounts yet? Or did your guardians leave you with some?”

Harry blushed, reaching into his pocket to pull out a few crumpled bills to show her. “I only  have this,” he whispered, shrugging. “I wasn’t aware I could pull money from accounts.”

“Muggle-born then?” The woman asked and when Harry’s eyebrows scrunched up, she smiled again. “Your parents are non-magical?”

“I don’t know, ma’am,” Harry told her honestly. “They died when I was a baby, but my relatives aren’t magical if that’s what you mean.”

“Then you’ve a lot to learn,” the woman said, straightening back up and dusting off her pretty skirt. “First, I’ll introduce myself since it will do you no good to traips around the alley with a stranger, will it? I am Lady Narcissa Malfoy, but you may call me Narcissa, yes?”

Harry’s eyes widened at her title, his face heating up in embarrassment and his fingers twitching with anxiety at his sides. “I-I’m sorry! It’s a-a pleasure to meet you, Lady Malfoy,” Harry said with a quick, unsure bow. “I’ve never met a Lady before. I didn’t know.”

Lady Malfoy’s laugh was soft and quiet, her pale hand raising to hide her mouth politely. He’d never heard a sound so pretty, and he caught a whiff of her magic as her hand disrupted the air. Like woodsmoke and herbal tea.

It was nice. Comforting in a way.

“Oh dear, you are very sweet. Please, though, I insist. If you’re to be friends with my son, you’ll call me Narcissa. Now, you’ll introduce yourself as well,” she reminded him gently. 

Harry jumped again but he nodded, bowing again to her, though this time not as low. “I-I’m Harry Potter, ma’am. I um- I don’t think I have a title. I’m not a Lord or anything like that.”

The woman was silent for a long moment and when Harry finally glanced back up at her, her eyes were wide and her lips parted slightly. She looked taken off guard–surprised. His anxiety bubbled up again, his magic trying to soothe it like waves against a shore.

Was she surprised because she thought he was a girl? Was he supposed to pretend he was, like with his relatives and at school?

Harry had kind of hoped he’d be able to pull it off here since no one knew who he was.

“Well, that is a surprise, isn’t it?” Narcissa finally said, handing Harry his school list back. “I owe you my apologies, Heir Potter, I’d not recognized you.”

“Heir Potter?”

Narcissa’s eyes widened again and Harry had to curse himself in his mind. It was like he kept making the wrong moves on a chessboard he couldn’t see. He should know better by now that adults didn’t like questions, but the new location and the nice lady were throwing off his usually so carefully crafted manners.

He was seconds away from apologizing and running off on his own before Narcissa’s face melted again into something soft and sad.

“Your relatives, Harry, have they told you much about your parents?”

A bit taken aback by how easily she used his name, it took him a moment before Harry shook his head. “No ma’am. They don’t talk about them and only said they died in a car crash when I was a baby. My Aunt Petunia said they were drunk and that I’m lucky to be alive.”

“Well you are lucky, that is true,” Narcissa hummed, shaking her head. “Well, there is a lot to discuss. Perhaps we’ll make our first trip to the bank then. You’ll need an inheritance test done and it will be easier to explain everything after. Would that be alright?”

Harry really wanted to tell her that he didn’t have any money here, so there would be no reason to go to a bank, but he already felt like he’d pushed too far, spoken too much. He was surprised Lady Malfoy was being as lenient as she was with his outbursts. He didn’t want to push his luck anymore than he already had.

So he just nodded, ducking his head in an attempt to show her he meant no trouble, before quickly and obediently following behind her as she started walking.

The bank itself was a massive, towering thing that leaned a bit too far to one side and had guards posted out front. They bowed heads to them as they entered the doors, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge the strange duo. Inside was even stranger. It was chaos, with so many people trying to withdraw money and the lines were so long, Harry wasn’t sure how any of them managed to get through in a timely manner.

Most shockingly though were the creatures behind the counters. Harry wasn’t sure what they were, but he’d seen drawings of creatures like them in books at the library.

He wanted to ask a million questions when Lady Malfoy skipped the lines and went straight towards one of the creatures.

He kept his mouth shut.

“Greetings Master Bonetuck,” the woman said with a smile.

The creature in question glanced up over a pair of spectacles, his eyes narrowed. He looked kind of angry, but Harry honestly couldn’t tell if he was, or if his face was just always scrunched like that.

“Lady Malfoy, a pleasure to see you again, and twice in one day at that.” Bonetuck’s eyes scanned down to Harry, sharp and digging enough that the boy wanted to hide behind Narcissa, but he forced himself not to move. “And you’ve brought another one? I’d not been aware you had two.”

“I don’t,” Lady Malfoy said with another polite laugh. “I’m simply escorting Heir Potter around as he’s been left without a guide. We’d be most pleased if you’d help us withdraw money from his accounts so he might gather his school supplies.”

He.

She’d said he without even batting an eye. Like she’d taken Harry’s name and the fact that he said he wasn’t a lord at face value and believed he was a boy.

Harry almost felt like crying, but he pushed it back to focus on the narrowed eyes that glared down at him.

“And does Heir Potter have his key?”

Harry shook his head, twisting his shirt sleeves in his fingers. “No, Master Bonetuck. I wasn’t aware I had one.”

“If we could take this somewhere private, Bonetuck, we’d very much appreciate it,” Narcissa said with a sharp smile. The kind of smile Aunt Petunia gave to people when she was being polite but didn’t want to be argued with. “Heir Potter has a lot to learn and discuss about his heritage. He’ll need an Inheritance Test, which should verify his identity for you.”

Bonetuck didn’t look entirely happy with that, or maybe he just always looked unhappy, but he bobbed his giant head anyway and waddled down a few steps. “Very well. Please follow me. Master Ragnok is the Potter Accounts Manager, he’ll be happy to finally have something to do with them.”

Harry was silent as he and Narcissa were led down a long hallway with too many doors for him to count. They didn’t stop until they came to what looked like an office, the name Ragnok carved into the front of it in a language Harry’s magic had to translate for him. The goblin inside didn’t look much different than the goblin who left them there, but his clothes were finer, his wrinkles more pronounced, and his spectacles had big golden chains keeping them around his neck.

“Lady Malfoy,” the goblin Ragnok greeted with a nod. “I’m not your accounts manager.”

“Certainly not,” she said, waiving Harry forward so they both took a seat across from the goblin. “Heir Potter is here for his inheritance test and to access his accounts for school supplies. He’s also unaware of any titles, properties, and accounts he might have, as he was raised by muggle relatives so I thought it best that we introduce him to that as soon as possible. Don’t you agree?”

Ragnok turned his slit, black eyes towards Harry for a long moment before bobbing his head.

“Very well. The test first.” With a grunt and some shuffling, the goblin pulled out a piece of heavy parchment and placed it on the table in front of Harry along with what looked like a letter opener. “Just three drops of blood onto the page please. This will verify that you are who you say you are. Then we’ll get to the rest.”

They needed his blood? Harry’s eyes widened and he turned towards Lady Malfoy who just smiled and nodded at him. She didn’t look worried, and really, Harry was already here. He couldn’t honestly say no. Not without risking Lady Malfoy finally losing her temper with him. He knew better than to go against what the adults wanted, so with a deep breath, he pricked his finger and did as he was told.

To his surprise, the wound healed almost immediately and words began to appear on the parchment, spreading out from where the blood fell until it covered the entire page.

Name: Harry (nee Harriett) Potter

Born: July 31st, 1980

Parents: James Charlus Potter (deceased), Lily Jane Potter nee Evans (deceased)

Godparents: Sirius Orion Black (incarcerated), Alice Longbottom (St. Mungo’s), Severus Snape nee Prince

Titles:

Heir of the Ancient and Noble Family Potter (by father)

Heir of the Ancient and Noble Family Black (by godfather)

Heir of the Ancient and Noble Family Prince (by godfather)

Heir of the Ancient and Noble Family Peverell (by father)

Heir of the Ancient and Noble Family Slytherin (by conquest)

Magical Abilities:

Parselmouth (by conquest)

Parselmagic (by conquest)

Mage Sensitivities (by birth)

Wandless Magic (learned)

Wordless Magic (learned)

Vaults:

Potter Trust Vault: 100,490 galleons, 509 Sickles, 20 Knuts

Potter Family Vaults: 25,293,209 galleons, 400 sickles, 78 knuts

Black Family Vaults: 69,402,009 galleons, 102 sickles, 450 knuts

Prince Family Vaults: 1,495,984 galleons, 350 sickles, 40 knuts

Peverell Family Vaults: 81,902,458 galleons, 12 sickles, 125 knuts

Slytherin Family Vaults: 897,978,142 galleons, 254 sickles, 9 knuts

Various magical artifacts, tomes, and scrolls (see individual vault sheets for more information)

Notes:

Heir Potter may only access the Trust vault until majority is reached.

Prince vault is shared with one Severus Snape nee Prince.

“Most interesting,” Narcissa hummed, frowning down at the page. “I wasn’t aware Severus was your godfather.”

Harry frowned, glancing up at her. “You know him?”

“Of course, he’s the godfather of my son as well and the Potions Master at Hogwarts. He’ll be one of your instructors when you get there,” she said with a small smile. “He is a very close friend of our family.”

The boy swallowed and nodded, a bit shocked to even know he had godparents in the first place. He wanted to ask why they’d never taken him in if it’d been an option, why he was placed with his aunt and uncle if he didn’t need to be, but the questions lodged in his throat before they could escape. He didn’t want to annoy the woman when she’d been so nice to him so far, nor did he want to look a fool. There must have been a reason his godfather didn’t want him, and adults usually knew best. Harry wouldn’t question that.

“Now, in regards to the rest of this,” Narcissa said, pointing towards the parts where it listed his titles, “we’ll get you a few books on Society Etiquette and how to handle yourself as an Heir to your houses. Draco will be able to help you as well, if you’d like. He’s been training to take over the family since he could speak. You hold quite a few titles here so it will be even more important to learn proper rules and manners, do you understand?”

Not really, but Harry nodded anyway, biting at his lip and twisting his fingers together almost painfully. “Does that mean… does this mean I’m a lord?”

“Not quite yet, Heir Potter,” Ragnok chimed in, drawing Harry’s attention back to him. “While you are the last surviving heir of many of your houses, you have not reached maturity yet so you are unable to claim those lordships. Once you reach the age of fifteen, you will be allowed to claim them and even attend Wizengamot meetings. You will not be able to vote in the meetings until you’ve turned seventeen, but you may assign a proxy when you get your lordships to sit in your place if you like.”

“That’s… a lot,” Harry mumbled, mostly to himself. He had no idea what a Wizengamot was or why he would need to sit in on meetings or have someone do it for him.

Narcissa smiled and patted his hand. “That’s alright dear. The Wizengamot is very similar to the muggle Parliament, you know what that is, yes?” Harry nodded and she smiled. “Good. It’s very similar and when you get old enough, you’ll have quite a lot of power in it since you hold votes for so many houses. You’ll have a lot of say in what laws get passed or don’t, regulations, and bills. Which is why it will be so important to educate you in what you’ve missed out on.”

“So, my dad was a lord?”

Their expressions turned sad again–or at least… Harry assumed they turned sad. Master Ragnok’s face didn’t change much at all, but his big ears drooped a little and Harry had seen a few dogs do that when they were sad. And the old lady across the street’s shoulders drooped when she was sad.

It was then that Narcissa told him about his parents. It was… strange, really, to hear it all laid out before him. How there was a war, how they died protecting him. How he was called the “girl-who-lived”. There were story books written about him, musical productions. He was constantly in the paper as people tried to figure out where he’d been all this time. Even more so recently according to Narcissa since people wondered if he’d be attending Hogwarts this year. If he was even alive to do so.

When Harry asked about The Dark Lord, who supposedly killed his parents, his magic flared a bit at the look Narcissa shared with Ragnok.

“Harry,” she started, her back straightening like she was getting ready for something she didn’t want to do. Kind of like Aunt Petunia did when she straightened her dress and let her friends in for their weekly meetings. “You must understand that there were a lot of things happening at the time of your parents death. We were at war, and there are varying opinions on which side was correct and which side wasn’t.”

She spared another look at Ragnok who rolled his eyes at her.

“Goblins are a neutral party, Lady Malfoy. I could not care less about which side of the war you were on.”

So they were goblins. That made sense, sort of. Regardless, Harry was happy to have a word for the creature.

He focused on the woman in front of her again when she turned back towards him. “My family, my husband, had sworn fealty to The Dark Lord at the time. Like I said, there were many factors in play,” she almost rushed to say when Harry tensed. “I will not lie to you and say the death of your parents was or was not justified. We were in the middle of a war and both sides had many casualties. Both sides believed what they were doing was the right thing to do.”

“And yours… was your side right?”

Narcissa sighed and folded her hands primly in her lap, crossing her legs at the ankle. “To be honest, Heir Potter, I still am unsure. We began our fight with very noble intentions. We wanted to protect our people, we still want to protect our people, from those that would harm us. Our traditions are slowly being eaten away, the muggles are getting closer and closer to discovering us, and we are becoming a dying breed. Does that justify the casualties?” She asked, though she didn’t look like she expected him to answer. “I cannot be sure. Our lord was a good man at the beginning of it all. And at the end? Well… well I think something went wrong along the way and he lost himself.”

Harry didn’t know how to feel about all that. Lady Malfoy seemed nice enough, nicer than his aunt and uncle had ever been. Nicer than anyone had ever been except maybe Mrs. Figg down the street. (He liked her cats and she always called him Harry.) But still, her master had supposedly killed his parents.

“I do not wish to sway you either way, Harry,” Narcissa continued. “You will grow to make your own decisions and if that is away from our own beliefs, then that is your journey to take. I simply wish to help educate you in the best way to live your life, if you’ll allow me to.”

By the time they left the bank, Harry with a magic pouch that gave him access to his gold–gold, he had piles and piles of just gold–Harry felt a bit better about everything. Narcissa said she didn’t know much about Mages or his magical sensitivities past the basics, but that she’d help him find books on both of them to help him learn. All she knew was that only truly, extraordinarily powerful wix were considered mages.

He still wasn’t sure how to feel about the war, but part of him just wished to ignore it for now. He didn’t remember any war. He didn’t fight in it. And from what he could tell, and what Narcissa had told him, that war was over. 

People could change, not that he’d ever seen that happen, but he supposed they could. So who was to say Lady Malfoy and her family hadn’t changed? 

Maybe they’d even been right in their fight against whoever they were fighting. Harry didn’t know.

“Come now,” Narcissa hurried him, “Draco should be at Madam Malkins by now. That’s where we’ll get your robes, yes? I’ll introduce you.”

Madam Malkins was a clothing shop, Harry discovered when they arrived. A short, portly sort of woman was bustling about like mad, sheefs and bolts of fabric flying magically through the air and Harry had to duck to avoid getting smacked by a few.

“Hogwarts, dear?” The woman called out, and Harry nodded shyly. “Very good. Up on the dias, I’ll be right with you. Mister Malfoy if you’ll please stay still.”

Recognizing the name, Harry turned slightly towards the other boy in the room as he stepped up on the dias. 

He was cute, in a posh sort of way, with platinum white hair slicked loosely back. His skin was pale, but there was a dusting of pink over his cheeks when Madam Malkin admonished him. And then there was his eyes, silver just like his mothers and endlessly deep. Harry could feel his magic, like a cool wash of ice water over his skin and the rush of a strong breeze against his back.

It was fascinating.

“Mother,” Draco greeted when he caught sight of them, a bright smile spreading over his face as he straightened up a bit. There was a tape measure fluttering about him, but he ignored it as he leaned in to let his mother kiss his cheeks. “Father went to run some business in Burks but he said he’d be back before I’m finished here.”

“Wonderful. Now, Draco darling, I’d like to introduce you to someone. He’ll be attending Hogwarts with you this year and I thought it’d be good for him to know someone before attending,” she said carefully, gesturing towards Harry.

Having learned from Narcissa in the bank the proper way of doing so, Harry showed his hands at his sides and bowed slightly. His voice was a little shaky, and entirely too quiet, when he spoke. “A pleasure to meet you, I’m Heir Potter. I hope we can be friends.”

When he glanced back up, Draco’s eyes were wide as dinner plates and his mouth was hanging open in surprise. Harry shifted when the greeting wasn’t returned and Narcissa tsked at him. 

“Draco.”

There was a low warning in her tone that Harry flinched at, but it managed to snap Draco out of his stupor and he blinked, shaking himself slightly. He copied the bow quickly. “Apologies, Heir Potter, you caught me by surprise. I’m Heir Malfoy, but you may call me Draco.”

“Then call me Harry,” he said instantly, a bright smile spreading over his own face for the first time in a while.

He’d never had a friend before, not really. There’d been a snake in his aunt’s garden that his magic let him talk to and he’d like to think she was his friend, but it didn’t last when his uncle caught them. Harry had gotten a nasty beating with three broken ribs, and the snake hadn’t survived his uncle’s shovel.

He wasn’t sure if Draco wanted to be his friend, but Harry terribly hoped so.

“Harry,” Draco repeated, his voice almost breathy with his shock. It took another moment for him to shake out of his head again and he nodded. He seemed to pull up a mask, straightening his posture and smoothing out his face in the same way Harry did when he was around his relatives, only Draco looked more comfortable in this mask than Harry ever had. “We’ll have to sit together on the train! If we’re to be friends, we should get to know each other better. That’s what mother always says.”

Narcissa seemed pleased with the development, smiling sweetly when Harry squealed at the measuring tape fluttering over to his dias to take his measurements.

“Draco,” she interrupted when her son hopped down, helping him straighten his robes and his hair in a way Harry had seen mothers do on television sometimes. “Harry may be an heir to many great houses, but he was raised by muggles, so there’s a lot he doesn’t know.”

The blonde boy’s face screwed up at that in what looked like disgust and offense, gaping at his mother as his mask dropped again. “Muggles? Ridiculous! Harry Potter. Raised by muggles,” the boy scoffed, shaking his head as he turned to where Harry was awkwardly getting measured. “That won’t do at all. I’ll help you learn all there is to know about being an heir. My friends too, they’re all heirs to their own houses and we’ve been training for it since we were all little. They’ll help. You just stick with us, Harry, and we’ll have you in the Wizengamot in no time!”

They weren’t at Madam Malkin’s for much longer, since Draco was already finished and Harry’s measuring didn’t take long. He didn’t know what his robes ended up looking like since they’d been wrapped and packaged already when the busy woman dropped them in his arms as soon as he’d paid, but he was excited at the prospect of having any sort of clothing that wasn’t Dudley’s hand-me-downs.

After that, Harry had met Draco’s father.

He was a bit frightening–okay a lot frightening–but he had taken Harry’s presence in stride and hadn’t shown nearly as much surprise as his wife and son had when the boy was introduced. Though his eyes did flicker up towards Harry’s forehead. 

Harry had never really minded  his scar, to be honest. People tended to look at him strangely because of it, but he thought it looked cool. A branching of lightning starting at his hairline and spreading across his forehead and temple like the veins of spiderwebs. Most of it was easily covered by his hair, but there were parts that arched over his brow and across his nose, so much paler than his dark skin that people tended to notice regardless.

Draco seemed to think it was wicked when Harry had shown him.

Harry found he really liked Draco. Though perhaps that was bias considering Draco was the only thing Harry had that was even close to a friend.

The boy had grabbed his hand immediately after leaving Madam Malkins and dragged him around the alley in search of their school supplies. Lady Malfoy insisted they stop at a luggage shop first. Draco already had a trunk, he explained, but Harry would need one to keep his things in and it would be best so they didn’t have to carry everything around all day.

Harry didn’t understand how that would be easier, since the trunks were much bigger than his parcels, but again, he’d learned long ago not to argue with adults.

In the end, Harry had been incredibly grateful they’d gone with him. He’d managed to find a pretty black trunk with silver edges that had all kinds of compartments for his things–one for his clothes, his books, his potions supplies, and an extra compartment for anything else he wanted to keep in it. He’d nearly climbed inside himself when he realized the trunk was bigger on the inside than it looked.

Narcissa had the shopkeep show Harry how to lock the trunk, explaining the three runes on top to him easily. One to open it, one to lock it, and one to shrink it. Since underaged wizards couldn’t use their wands outside of school, Harry learned, the runes allowed students to shrink their trunks easily and unshrink them with an activation word. 

Harry had chosen TARDIS because he’d liked watching Doctor Who on the television at Mrs. Figg’s house when she was watching over him.

After that, Lord Malfoy and Narcissa (he still wasn’t comfortable calling Draco’s father Lucius, nor had he been given permission to) had helped him pick up his books for first year, including quite a few extras. Lady Malfoy assured him he’d have plenty of funds in his account so he needn’t worry. A trust account often refilled each year so he could purchase new supplies as needed.

Harry ended up getting all of his necessary books, as well as a few that Narcissa said should have been on his list (mostly ones for muggle raised children just entering the magical world). He’d also gotten a whole stack of books from Lord Malfoy about Society Etiquette, some books about potions (because it sounded close to cooking and Harry loved cooking), and plenty of other interesting topics that Draco pointed out to him (runes, mage magic, Barthok’s Guide to Dark and Light Magic, and so on). 

Truthfully, outside of the library, Harry had never seen so many books before. Books that were his. He loved reading, loved learning new things. The library was his sanctuary when Dudley and his friends would chase him around for Harry Hunting, so he had a close relationship with books and knowledge.

Besides, the magic world was somewhere he could start over. Somewhere he could be who he wanted to be. Not the quiet little mistake his aunt and uncle thought he was, or the punching bag his cousin saw him as. Not even the idiot girl his teachers thought he was.

‘Simple’ they called him during conferences. ‘Poor thing.’

His potions supplies had been the easiest things to get, as Draco had simply grabbed what they needed immediately.

“My Uncle Severus is our professor and he’s been tutoring me in potions since I was eight,” he explained, even though Harry hadn’t asked. It was fine, Harry was glad Draco gave him answers without him needing to ask the questions.

They’d run into a bit of a snag when they’d gone to get Harry’s wand. The old man in the shop sent Harry’s magic simmering uncomfortably beneath his skin and Harry had to fight himself not to just turn around and run. He felt like he’d nearly gone through the entire store of wands before they’d finally gotten to the one the man claimed was best suited for Harry.

“Interesting,” Ollivander hummed, his eyes glittering in a way that had Harry taking a step back. “I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Missus Potter,” the man said, ignoring (or not noticing) Harry’s flinch. “That one shares a core with only one other in the world. The one that was used to kill your parents.”

Harry had dropped it right then and there.

He still wasn’t sure how he felt about the war and The Dark Lord, but having a connection like that, something so powerfully linked to death… Harry didn’t want it.

“–absolutely appalled,” Harry heard Mr. Malfoy growling, blinking behind his spectacles to see Ollivander simpering behind his counter. “To tell the boy something like that. The sheer unprofessionalism. Keep your wand, you fool. We shall find another.”

Harry didn’t know that was an option, and Ollivander seemed truly afraid and offended at the meer suggestion, but Harry didn’ wait to hurry after the Malfoys when they left the shop. Draco looked absolutely furious, ranting and raving about who does he think he is? And there’s a thing called class and respect! To bring up someone’s past like that! Unbelievable!

Lord and Lady Malfoy were whispering to each other in front of them, their own fury contained in the tight line of their shoulders and not showing a drop of it in their faces.

That worried Harry, only because he didn’t know how to navigate that kind of anger. He could always tell when Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia were angry, always knew when to expect their rage and distaste. He didn’t know what to do with silent anger.

They ended up taking Harry to another wand shop off a few side roads of the alley. It was much smaller than the first, and a bit more homey. The woman that ran it was old and blind, but her smile was wide when they entered in it.

“Ah, I’d recognize that wand anywhere,” the woman said, circling her counter and holding her hands out towards Mr. Malfoy. “Lucius my boy, is that you or has someone stolen your wand?”

“Hello, Madam Urda,” Mr. Malfoy greeted, ducking enough for the woman’s wrinkled hands to touch his face, feeling around a bit politely before pulling away. “I’ve come for a wand, if you please.”

Her eyebrows raised significantly and she turned slightly towards where Harry was hiding behind Draco. “If I recall, I’ve already made your young heir his wand years ago. He hasn’t broken it has he?”

“Certainly not!” Draco squawked, pulling the long stick out from under the sleeve of his robes and holding it out to the woman. “See? It’s in perfect order! Father even lets me practice with it when we’re at home. The wand is for Harry!”

Before the boy could argue, Draco was grabbing Harry by the wrist and tugging him forward and into the woman’s waiting hands. He was stiff as she felt around his face and hair, fingers lingering over the slightly raised scar on his forehead for only a moment before moving on. 

“Hmm, you’ll be a difficult one, I see,” she mumbled, tapping a finger to her chin as she turned to Mr. Malfoy. “I take it Garrick was absolutely useless as always?”

“And horribly unprofessional to boot,” Lady Malfoy chimed in with a huff. “Told the boy his wand was connected to the one who killed his parents.”

Madam Urda didn’t need much more prompting after that. She locked the door with a wave of her own wand before ushering the four of them through to a little workshop area in the back and nudging Harry into a chair at the table. Then she laid out a series of blocks and told him to pick the one that called to him the most.

Harry furrowed his brow, but did as he was asked, closing his eyes and letting his magic guide him. It didn’t seem like it wanted to pick one for the longest time, like it was almost offended he was even thinking of getting a wand, but after a while it settled on a whitish-brown block that had the woman smiling when she ran her fingers over it.

“Ash wood, a very powerful choice, Heir Potter. It’s a connection to Yggdrasil, the world tree, adn is one of the most powerful kinds of wood in the world.” She set the wood aside and vanished the others with a wave of the hand. “It is also a loyal wood, which will suit you well I think. No others will be able to use it even if they try to force it’s will.”

The next items he was given were said to be ‘cores’. Harry didn’t quite understand the process of what went into a wand, but Narcissa was quick to explain that magic often needed something to help it along, like a lightning rod. Cores had different energies and benefits, but they all went into stabilizing the magic as it leaves the wand.

This process took even longer than the wood blocks had. Harry’s magic hadn’t seemed to like any of the options given to him and Madam Urda had been forced to switch them out for other choices. They did that four times before Harry could feel his magic singing in the direction of what looked like a shard of bone.

“Fascinating,” Madam Urda crooned when she took the shard from Harry, carefully placing it in the box with his wood. “A basilisk fang shard. I’ve never had another with a core like it. Basilisks are very tempermental creatures, incredibly loyal, and immensely powerful. This wand will serve you well, Heir Potter.”

Harry didn’t have the heart to tell her that he didn’t think he needed a wand. He was able to do magic without it already, but then again, he wasn’t sure what he’d be learning at school. So perhaps a wand was smart. There might be things he simply can’t do without one.

“Come back in one hour, I’ll have it finished by then,” Madam Urda said as she quickly ushered them all out the door and all but slammed it in their faces.

“Madam Urda makes the best wands in all of Britain,” Draco assured him with a grin. “She made fathers to hide in his cane after he was injured during the war, and she made mothers, and mine. She’s made all of the Black family wands and all of the Malfoy ones too!”

“Then why did we go to Ollivander’s first,” Harry asked quietly, jumping slightly when Mr. Malfoy answered.

“Ollivander is a close friend of Headmaster Dumbledore,” he said with a slight sneer. “First years are expected to go there to get their wands, and it’s often at a discounted price. It is also the one in the main thoroughfare of the alley so most go there anyway.”

Harry could understand that. He’d never have found Urda’s Unique Wands and Wickers on his own if he hadn’t met Narcissa at the mouth of the Alley.

“Come on! We can go to the Menagerie and look at the animals,” Draco said, once again grabbing Harry’s hands to drag him forward. “I already have an eagle owl that father is letting me take to Hogwarts if I want, but you can bring a pet if you want. They allow you to bring a cat, a rat, an owl, or a toad. Rubbish options if you ask me, but that’s the rules, I guess. Unless you have a familiar, then you can bring whatever you want. Lady Magic trumps school rules every time. I don’t have one, mind you, but one day I might! Only truly powerful wizards get familiars, and father says I’ll get more powerful as I get older.”

Harry found himself enjoying listening to Draco ramble. It was, in truth, the most anyone had ever spoken to him in his entire life. Even Mrs. Figg didn’t talk to him that much and she’d been babysitting him since he was a baby.

Draco didn’t seem to care if Harry was even listening–which he was of course, this was his friend–and just rambled on about everything they passed. He seemed to get the most excited when they passed a broom shop, going off into a long lesson about a game called Quidditch and how Draco was going to be on the Slytherin team once he reached second year.

By the time they’d reached the Menagerie, Harry had learned all about the basics of Quidditch, the four Hogwarts Houses, and the ridiculousness of the fact that first years weren’t allowed to bring their brooms.

Harry wasn’t sure he minded that rule all too much. The idea of flying was very exciting, but he wasn’t sure how he felt about trying to tame a broom of all things.

“You’re very quiet you know,” Draco said when they’d split from his parents to wander the pet shop and look at the animals. “Not that it’s a bad thing,” his friend rushed to say, “I just suppose I didn’t expect it, is all. You’re famous here, so I guess I expected you to be more… well, more famous, I guess.”

“I don’t know how to be famous,” Harry shrugged, crouching down in front of a wall of glass tanks to stare at the snakes. “I’m not allowed to talk much at my house, so I don’t. Besides, I like to listen to you talking.”

There was a long silence as Harry stared at one of the snakes, her pretty white and pink scales glistening under the light. When he glanced up, Draco’s cheeks were bright pink, but his eyebrows were drawn down in confusion. “What do you mean you aren’t allowed to talk much?”

Oh, that’s right. Harry hadn’t told the Malfoy’s about his aunt and uncle. He was so used to not speaking of the way they treated them and had just assumed they wouldn’t believe him anyway. No one ever did. His teachers always accused him of lying and Mrs. Figg had just told him “Oh I’m sure they love you dear.”

Harry had nearly laughed when she said that. There was no love in that house for him.

He didn’t know how to tell Draco that, not since he was sure the other boy’s parents loved him very much. So he just shrugged and turned back to the snake who’d slithered up to the glass to meet him. “They just don’t like me much. Hullo,” he said, addressing the snake. “You’re very pretty.”

“You are a speaker,” the snake hissed back, and Harry smiled at her. “I’ve not seen a speaker in my lifetime.”

Harry frowned at that, glancing up at a shocked Draco. He’d assumed all wizards could speak with snakes, but the other boy was staring at him with that gaping mouth again, blinking at him like he’d just grown a second head. Harry brushed a hand against his shoulder just to check.

“You speak to snakes!”

Harry flinched at the squeak in Draco’s voice, but nodded anyway. “I… um- I just assumed it was because of my magic. Is that bad?”

“No! No, but not many can do it,” Draco assured him, sitting on the floor next to him and looking at the other snake. “What’s it saying?”

“She told me she’s never met a speaker before,” Harry translated, smiling back at the snake. “This is my friend Draco. Well… I assume he’s my friend now, I’ve never had one before but he’s been kind to me. Do you have a name?”

The snake curled and bobbed her head pleasantly, and Harry got the sense that if she could smile, she would. “You are polite to ask, young master. I am called Hiraeth, but you may all me Hira. If your friend is kind, he may have the same honor.”

Harry grinned and Draco looked nearly ready to shake him if he didn’t translate immediately. “She said her name is Hiraeth, but that we’re allowed to call her Hira if we want. She’s very nice, I wish you could speak to her too. I’m sad I can’t pick her to take to school with me.” He pouted slightly, earning him a hiss from the pretty serpent. When he told her the same thing, she coiled in upset. “I’m sorry,” he frowned, putting a finger against the glass. “I’d love to but my school won’t allow it and my family is cruel to animals. You would not be safe there.”

“Ask her to be your familiar,” Draco rushed, grabbing at Harry’s hand and gripping it tight. “Most wizards find their familiars naturally, but you were instantly drawn to her. If you ask her, maybe she’ll say yes and then the school won’t be allowed to stop you!”

“Brilliant! Hira,” he said, ducking down until he could meet the snake’s eyes with his own, “my friend said I could take you with me if you were my familiar. I’m not really sure what that means, since I’m new to the wizarding world, but I’d very much like it if you’d agree. I still couldn’t take you home with me, not with how dangerous my family is, but Draco might be able to keep you safe until school and then you could be with me. It would get you out of this tiny cage,” he assured her.

Hira seemed to consider him for a moment, then turned towards Draco with narrowed red eyes. The boy in question straightened up, chin rising like he was nervous of not passing some test.

After a few moments of pondering, the serpent nodded her head and stuck her tongue out at him. “I will accept your plea,” she hissed, drawing a big, bright smile from Harry. “I wish to leave this place and I like the taste of your magic. However, if your friend is not kind to me, I will eat him.”

Harry laughed, the sound loud and unfamiliar in the large store. It’d been so long since he remembered laughing that his magic sung under his skin. Draco looked just as pleasantly surprised by the sound when Harry grabbed at his hands.

“She said yes! But I can’t take her home with me or my relatives will hurt her. Could she stay with you when we aren’t in school?”

Draco’s eyes widened, lips parting slightly as he nodded. “S-she’s alright with that? Most familiars don’t like being separated from their wizards.”

“She said it’s fine, but that if you’re mean to her, she’ll eat you.”

Draco looked like he wasn’t sure if he believed Harry, but one glance at the snake had him tensing up and nodding quickly. His parents were a bit harder to convince, Narcissa because Harry had only just met them and was surprised he trusted them so easily, and Lucius because a wizard’s familiar should be with the wizard it was bound to. Harry had to emphasize a lot that it wouldn’t be safe for her, without outright telling them that he wasn’t safe either, before the head Malfoy finally agreed.

They helped him purchase all the things he’d need for her, including a small trunk that would serve as her primary living space when she wasn’t with Harry. According to the shopkeep it was enormous on the inside and was just the right kind of habitat for her species, with plenty of food inside for her to catch when she was hungry. Harry was grateful for that because he wasn’t sure how he felt about having to give her mice. He’d do it of course, but the idea just gave him the chills when he thought about it.

Mr. Malfoy also made sure Harry had the right paperwork to send back with his letter for registering a familiar. He helped Harry fill it out when they stopped for ice cream (that never melted!) and sent one copy off to the Ministry for him. Hira was settled on his shoulders, heavy and comforting in the way she curled around his throat.

“Familiars are powerful companions,” the man explained when Harry gave him a confused look at the paperwork, not daring to ask the question out loud. “They need to be registered with the Ministry because it’s a great offense to harm or kill a wix’s familiar. Once bonded, it’s seen as another aspect of one’s soul, and so to harm the creature is to harm the wix as well.”

That made sense, though Harry did ask that they stop by the bookshop again to pick up a book about familiars, and another about Lucy Ball Snakes, on their way to get his wand.

And his wand!

While his magic still didn’t like the idea of having the thing, as it felt so unnecessary, Harry found a bubble of excitement gurgling to live in his throat when the stick was handed to him.

It was beautiful. It extended about the length of his forearm and was a pale white silver with a shimmer of black when he twisted it in the light. The wood itself was slightly twisted around itself like roots, and the grip was carved to look like scales, reaching halfway up the wand itself.

“Wicked,” Draco breathed when he saw it. 

“Indeed,” Madam Urda grinned, proud of her work as the wand settled into Harry’s hands. “It’ll serve you well, though I suspect you won’t need it much, what with your talents. Still, keep it close, as it will protect you when you need it to. Here,” she said, handing him a small parcel as well. “I’ve included a wand servicing kit to keep it in tip-top shape, as well as a wand holster for the inside of your wrist. I’m sure the young Mr. Malfoy will be happy to show you how to use it. There’s an extra one in there for your ankle as well, should you need it. Treat it well, Heir Potter, and it’ll treat you well also.”

When it was time to say goodbye, Harry almost didn’t want to leave. He was still nervous around Narcissa and Mr. Malfoy, but they’d treated him kinder than anyone else he’d ever met. Draco too had treated him kinder than any other kid his age. True, he still couldn’t be sure of their intentions with the so called Dark Lord, but they were nice and seemed to genuinely care about him learning and growing into his potential.

“Be good for Draco, okay?” Harry whispered to Hira, pretending he didn’t notice the shared look between the boy’s parents. “We’ll only be apart for a month, and then we can get to know each other, okay? And I’ll be with you all the time at school. Is that okay?”

“Yes, young master Harry,” the snake said, flicking her tongue across his cheek as if to comfort him and he couldn’t help but smile at her. “Your Draco smells like snow. It is pleasant.”

Harry giggled and nodded before turning to his friend, nerves bubbling up in his stomach. “I’ll… I’ll see you on the train, yeah?”

To which Draco nodded eagerly, settling Hira around his shoulders like he was the most proud snake tree in existence. “Of course! And I’ll introduce you to all of my friends! Don’t forget, the platform will be hidden so-”

“Just run into the wall between them, yes, I remember,” Harry said with a soft smile. “You’re sure this isn’t a prank to embarrass me? What if I hit the wall?”

“Don’t worry, Harry dear,” Narcissa smiled, patting his shoulder sweetly. “We’ll wait for you on the platform and if you don’t show, Lucius will come fetch you. How is that?”

Relief flooded through him, his shoulders slumping instantly as he nodded, glancing up at Mr. Malfoy hestitantly. “If it wouldn’t be any trouble sir. I don’t wish to be a bother.”

His grey eyes (not silver like his wife and son) sharpened slightly, and Harry fought the urge to shrink back at the look. But the man just nodded at him instead. “No trouble at all, Heir Potter. If you’d prefer, I can meet you between platforms early to ensure your journey.”

“Oh no,” Harry said, shaking his head quickly. The idea of Uncle Vernon dropping Harry off and seeing Mr. Malfoy sounded like a disaster. He wasn’t sure which man would throw a fit about everything, but either way Harry didn’t want to see the aftermath of that kind of argument. 

That is if Harry could convince his uncle to drop him off at all. He hadn’t old his relatives yet about his letter, or his magic. He suspected they knew of course, because his beatings were always worse when something strange happened that couldn’t be explained, but they never spoke of it.

“I’ll be alright,” he assured the man when his eyes narrowed. “I’ll meet you on the platform, I promise.”

“Take care then, Harry,” Narcissa said with a quick hug, something that had Harry standing stock still in shock.

She was gone before he managed to knock himself out of it and hug her back, but he made sure to hug Draco when the boy threw himself at him. “I promise to take perfect care of Hira! I’ll try not to make her love me more than you. And we’ll sit on the train together too. Goodbye Harry!”

“Goodbye Draco.”

And Harry Stepped away with a smile on his face, his pockets heavy with his new things, and a little bit of hope in his tired heart.