- Chapter 6 -

Malfoy

The shop that Harry had decided to frequent first was a simple one. Harry just had to ask himself what he’d always wanted most; clothes. At school, he’d always had the fun taken out of him for the horrible baggy clothes he’d had to wear. Of course, none of them would ever see him in the clothes he was going to get from Madam Malkin’s Robery, but in Harry’s mind, it was a figurative two fingers to anyone who’d ever laughed about him.

“Harry?” Hagrid queried as they walked down the steps towards the shop. “I don’ suppose you’d min’ if I wen’ to the Leaky to have a drink, woul’ you? I still feel a bi’ shaky from tha’ cart.”

“Sure, Hagrid.” Harry made an effort to sound more confident than he felt. “You go ahead. I’ll meet you a bit later.”

“Good lad,” he said, before striding off, leaving Harry alone outside of the robery. Taking a deep breath, Harry entered the store, keeping his back straight and his head up. It turned out he had nothing to fear; Madam Malkin was a short, squat witch who had him pegged as soon as he entered the shop.

“Hogwarts, dear?” she said, smiling. “You’ll be wanting the lot, I suppose?” Harry nodded dumbly while she smiled some more. “I’ve got another young man being fitted just now. Do come through.” With a flick of her wand, a pair of curtains opened, and she gestured Harry through.

The other boy was standing on a footstool while another witch pinned up a set of long black robes. He was very pale and slender, like Harry, but had white blond hair and striking grey eyes. The boy looked over curiously as Harry was ushered onto a footstool next to him.

“Hey,” the boy smiled at Harry. “You for Hogwarts, too?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied. “My first year.”

“Mine too.” The boy reached out his hand to Harry. “Name’s Draco. Draco Malfoy.” Harry grasped the hand firmly, hoping with all of his might that he didn’t fall off the footstool.

“I’m Harry, Harry Potter.” Harry smirked as the other boy froze for a second and seemed to struggle to keep his mouth shut.

“The Harry Potter?” Draco grinned then, showing all of his teeth. “Wow.” He tipped his head to the right. “I thought you’d be taller. Oh, well. Have you got all of your school things yet?”

“No, this is the first place I’ve been to, apart from Gringotts and the Leaky Cauldron,” Harry confessed. “How about you?” Draco shook his head in response.

“I’ve not got much yet,” he admitted. “But mother’s across the road getting me some quills and parchment. She’s to meet me here after she’s gotten them. Where are you going next?”

“I don’t really know. I guess I should wait for Hagrid to come back.” At Draco’s puzzled look, he explained. “He’s the gamekeeper at Hogwarts.”

“Oh, do you know him very well?” Draco asked. “Did you live at Hogwarts or something?”

“No, and no. I only met him today. He acts as if I’m stupid.” Harry scowled. “And he keeps acting like he’s my best friend or something.”

“Why don’t you get rid of him then?” Now it was Harry’s turn to look confused. “Come shopping with me and my family. I’m sure they won’t mind,” Draco offered with a nonchalant air.

“Okay.” Harry smiled back at the other boy. “Then…”

“You’re both done, boys!” Madam Malkin told them. Harry and Draco looked around in surprise, noting the piles of clothes at their feet. “You can pay at the counter, in the front of the shop. Mr. Malfoy, I believe your parents are waiting there for you.”

Harry picked up his clothes and followed the woman into the front of the shop, Draco close behind. Standing fairly close to the counter were a man and a woman that Harry assumed to be Draco’s parents, as they all looked very alike.

Harry’s eyes flicked from Draco to his parents, admiring the similarities; all three of them were very pale with white blond hair. The woman was very sleight, like her son, but the man seemed a bit bulkier, like he had lots of muscles. They all had grey eyes too, although Draco’s mother’s seemed to be slightly bluer than those of her son and husband. The man had a cane in his hand, but he didn’t seem to be leaning on it much. They both smiled at Draco as he brushed past them to place his things on the counter.

“Mother, father, I’d like for you to meet my new friend, Harry Potter. Harry, these are my parents.” Neither of the Malfoy’s showed any sign that they recognised Harry’s name other than a slight widening of the eyes.

“Mr. Potter.” The man held his hand out to Harry, who shook it firmly.

“Mr. Malfoy.” Harry smiled at them both pleasantly, although his mind was still slightly puzzled over the way that Draco had introduced him. He’d put a barely noticeable emphasis on Harry’s name, which was understandable, but he’d said friend as well. I’ll have to keep an eye on him, Harry thought.

“Please, call me Lucius, Mr. Potter. This is my wife, Narcissa,” Lucius propelled his wife forwards as he said her name. She appeared completely unruffled, and delicately shook Harry’s hand.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Potter.”

“Call me Harry.” Harry smiled at them both.

“Harry it is, then,” Lucius nodded in agreement. Both Draco and Harry quickly paid for their things, (seventeen Galleons, nine sickles and four knuts each), and the four exited the shop.

“Harry, would you - and whoever you’re with - care to shop with us? I’m sure Draco would enjoy a companion more his age…” Lucius opened his arm in invitation, while Draco shot Harry a look that screamed ‘I told you so’.

“erm… Yeah, I’d love to. I should find Hagrid and tell him I’ll shop with you instead, though, so he’s not waiting around for me.”

“Rubeus Hagrid?” Harry almost thought he saw a look of distaste flicker across Lucius’s face when he nodded, but it was gone too fast for Harry to be able to tell. “Oh, that shouldn’t be a problem. He’ll know me, I’m a governor at Hogwarts.” Lucius seemed to stand slightly taller as he said the last few words.

“Lucius, dear, why don’t you go with Harry to meet Hagrid, and I and Draco will meet you in Flourish and Blotts? The boys will need the same books; we can just pick up two of each.” Narcissa suggested.

“Brilliant idea, Cissy,” Lucius smiled in the same way that Draco had earlier, before kissing her cheek. “So, Harry, where are we off to meet Hagrid?”

“I think he said he’d be in the Leaky Cauldron.” Harry offered.

“Brilliant, we can all walk in that direction together, then.” As they walked down the road, Draco started to tell Harry about the house system at Hogwarts.

“Basically,” he said, getting quite excited, “you put this old hat on, and it sorts you into a house based on your personality. There’s Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Ravenclaw is for the brainy people, Gryffindor is for the ‘brave’ people, but really they mean impulsive people, Hufflepuff is for people who don’t fit in anywhere else, and Slytherin is for people with ambition and cunning. I hope I’m going to Slytherin, mother and father were in Slytherin too. Where do you want to go?” Harry thought hard for a minute.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to go to Hufflepuff, ‘cause that’d mean you’re pretty useless, right?” Draco nodded. “And I’m not impulsive, so not Gryffindor. Ravenclaw doesn’t sound bad, but I don’t think I’m that clever, so I guess I want to be in Slytherin.” Harry smiled suddenly. “Hey, wouldn’t it be great if we were in the same house?” Draco nodded again, before his mother pulled him off towards a book shop, leaving Harry walking alone with Lucius.

“What do you want to do when you grow up, Harry?” Lucius asked, after a moment of silence.

“I don’t really know. I’m not sure what sorts of jobs you have here, but I suppose I want to be something important, if you know what I mean?” Harry looked up at the older man, confusedly.

“I think I do, Harry.” Lucius grinned. “And for what it’s worth, I think you’d do well in Slytherin.” And with that almost-compliment, Harry and Lucius entered the Leaky Cauldron.

It was easy to see Hagrid, he was the only one sitting in the middle of the room, and due to his size, he was rather hard to miss. There was also the added bonus that he was quite drunk and singing. Harry shuddered in distaste. Lucius, who’d been behind him, noticed the shudder and smirked.

“…an’ Odo th’ hero, they bore ‘im back ‘ome, teh th’ place tha’ ‘e’d kn’wn as a laaaaaad!” Hagrid sung. He seemed oblivious to the fact that most of the pub were laughing at him. Lucius walked up and stood in front of him, with a protective arm around Harry.

“Rubeus!” he snapped, drawing himself up to his full, and imposing, height. “You are drunk, man! I fail to see how this is looking after our saviour, Harry Potter.”

“Ahhh… ther’ y’are Harry! Don’cha wanna’ drink wi’ me?”

“Hagrid!” Lucius bellowed, his voice so cold that Harry almost thought the room temperature had dropped. “You will take yourself back to Hogwarts, and you shall tell the Headmaster exactly what has happened today.” Lucius had dropped his voice, so that Hagrid was leaning forwards, trying to catch what the blond man was saying. “I will take Harry to get his school things with my son, and I will be writing to the headmaster to tell him what a disgrace you are.”

Hagrid stared at him doe eyed for about a minute before nodding his head dumbly. Lucius motioned to two men who had just walked into the bar.

“You two will take his arm and side-along-apparate him to Hogwarts?” One man raised an eyebrow, before Lucius pulled a pair of Galleons from a pouch on his waist. “Take him right now.” Lucius warned, before gesturing for Harry to leave the pub the same way they had entered a few moments previously.

They walked to the book shop in silence, both contemplating what had just happened. Lucius pulled Harry aside as they neared the shop, however, and knelt on one knee so he was face to face with Harry.

“Harry, I’m very sorry that you had to see that; both Hagrid’s drunkenness and my temper. It hasn’t been a pleasant day for you, has it?”

“Oh no, Mr Malfoy,” Harry interrupted. “In all honesty, this is the best birthday I’ve ever had. It’s the best day ever!” Mr Malfoy frowned slightly, but got up off his knee and said only one thing.

“It’s Lucius, Harry.” Together, they entered the shop and set off on a mission to find Draco and Narcissa. Lucius, being much taller than Harry, found them first, in a small section just for Hogwarts books. Narcissa had her wand out and had two baskets floating next to her at waist height. She and Draco were pulling out two of each book, and putting one into each basket.

“There you two are!” Narcissa’s eyes narrowed. “Something happened, why aren’t you both smiling?” Lucius smiled tightly at her.

“Harry, Draco, will you two check the books against your letters? I need to have a word with my wife.” Draco looked at Harry curiously, but obligingly grabbed onto one of the baskets as his parents disappeared to another part of the shop. As soon as they were out of earshot he stopped checking books, and smiled at Harry.

“So, what happened? Why is my father acting so oddly?” he asked eagerly.

“Well, Hagrid was a bit drunk, and he got a bit annoyed at him. Nothing much really... Why are you wincing?”

“Mother might just kill him.” Draco groaned slightly. “He’s not meant to get mad while we’re out, I don’t really know why, though.” He sighed. “Never mind, it’s his problem now. You gonna check those books then?”

Harry grinned and pulled out his letter, still in its envelope. He counted the books in the basket, and got the nine on his normal letter, and the three on the pure-blooded list. He pulled out his Muggle-born list of books and showed it to Draco.

“You’re a Muggle-born?” he asked, brow furrowed as he looked at the first page. “And a pure-blood?” His face relaxed, and he began to laugh. “Oh, trust you! The great Harry Potter has to be different!” Harry laughed with him and between them they found the extra books that Harry needed.

When Lucius and Narcissa returned, both boys were still sniggering. The parents shared a look that was indulgent on one side and slightly calculating on the other.

“Come on then darlings, let’s go pay for all of this!” Narcissa guided the boys to the tills, shooting her husband a warning glare as they walked. They paid for the books, and were herded on to the next shop; Ollivanders.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they entered. The shop was miniature, and completely covered in dust. Harry looked on in awe at the many boxes piled haphazardly around the room. Draco seemed to be in the same state, if a little less.

“You want a wand.” Harry jumped at the unexpected voice. It sounded slightly rough, and held an incredulous tone of voice.

“Well we are in a wand shop.” Draco drawled from Harry’s left. Harry barely noticed; his eyes were fixed on the old man who had appeared from nowhere. He wore a yellowing shirt with a bow tie, and his brown hair was speckled with grey. His eyes were wide, and they almost shone in the dim room. He cocked his head towards Lucius.

“Elm, eighteen inches, dragon heartstring, likes curses, right?” Lucius nodded slowly, as he turned to Narcissa. “Oak, ten and three quarter inches, unicorn hair, very good for charms, I should think?” Narcissa nodded too. “And two nothings! You want wands, for you both?” Harry and Draco nodded, flicking nervous glances at each other.

“You first, blondie!” With that, Ollivander span on his heel and threw a box at Draco, who fumbled, but caught it. “Willow, twelve inches, dragon heartstring. Give it a wave!” Draco waved it half heartedly, but it was taken from his hand after a single moment. “Oh no no no, that’s all wrong. Try this.” He placed a wand, minus box in Draco’s hand. “Mahogany, eleven and a quarter inches, unicorn hair.” This time, when Draco waved it, a pile of wands tipped over. It was also snatched back quickly. “Close but no cigar…” Ollivander murmured. “Aha, this one next!” When Draco waved it this time a stream of water appeared, and completely soaked Ollivander, who merely smiled dazedly. “Hawthorn, ten inches, unicorn hair. Perfect.”

Draco grinned, and waved it again, his father nimbly dodging the ensuing stream of water with an amused grin. He turned to do the same to his mother, but was stopped at her raised eyebrow. Meanwhile, Ollivander was staring at Harry.

“Merlin.” He breathed. “Harry Potter. I remember your parents, I sold them their wands, you know. Lily’s preferred charms, and James’s liked transfiguration. Very powerful wands, both of them. But not as powerful as the one that did this.” He reached a finger forwards to touch Harry’s scar, eyes wide in wonderment. Harry awkwardly leaned backwards and was grateful when Lucius’s hand on his shoulder pulled him back a few feet.

“Can you not see he doesn’t want you to touch it, man?” Lucius told Ollivander hotly, earning himself yet another glare from Narcissa. Ollivander, however, obligingly backed away. Harry shot Lucius a thankful smile.

“Wands then. Wands, wands, wands!” Ollivander hissed to himself. “Oooh, what about this one then! Willow, fourteen inches, dragon heartstring.” He threw a box in Harry’s direction, which was deftly caught but it was snatched out of his hand before he’d had a chance to even look at it. “No. Bad wand. Oak, twelve and a half inches, core of unicorn hair.” He placed it in Harry’s hand, leaned back, looked at the wand once more, then pulled it away from the boy. “No.”

Twenty minutes later, Harry had tried thirteen more wands, caused  three mini-avalanches, and shocked Ollivander twice. Even the crazy wand maker seemed to be running out of ideas.

“I don’t…” He mumbled to himself. “Unless…” His head spun round to look at Harry once more. “No, no, no, it can’t be! But it’s perfect!” He slapped his palm against his forehead and disappeared through a door that Harry assumed led to another storeroom. He appeared moments later with a box laid across his two palms, which shook slightly. Both of Ollivander’s eyes were focused on the box, which he handed to Harry almost reluctantly.

This time, when Harry waved the wand, Ollivander didn’t have to dive out of the way of tumbling wands, he just watched in awe at the silver and green sparks that tumbled from the end of Harry’s wand.

“They’re beautiful, Harry,” Narcissa said softly, but her praise went unheeded as Ollivander chose to speak over her.

“Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches.” He crept towards Harry once more, and Harry was rather disconcerted by the way the man was staring at him. “How curious, how very, very curious,” he murmured.

“What’s curious?” Harry asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I remember every wand that I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Fifty seven years worth of wands, in fact. The phoenix who gave the tail feather that’s in your wand gave one other - only one other. It is very curious that this should be your wand, when it’s brother, that of the other phoenix feather, gave you that scar.” Once more, he reached out, to touch Harry’s forehead, but was stopped by a silvery barrier around Harry.

“Interesting,” he cooed. “So, so powerful! And instinctive too! I think we can expect great things from you, Mr. Potter. After all, You-Know-Who did great things, too, terrible things, but great all the same.”

“Yes, if great equals killing my parents. I’d like to pay for my wand now, Mr. Ollivander.” Harry picked his chin up. “I daresay we can do without your babbling.”

As Draco and Harry paid for their wands, (15 Galleons, and 17 Galleons respectively), Harry could have sworn he heard Lucius whisper to his wife.

“Narcissa,” He’d mumbled. “I think I like him.”

* * * * *

Harry laid back on his bed and stared at the still-unfamiliar ceiling. It had been a good day for Harry. A brilliant day, if he were honest with himself. He had stayed with the Malfoy family for nearly the whole day. Narcissa in particular had helped him to get school things. She seemed more focused on the task than Lucius and had made sure that he had gotten several items that weren’t on the Hogwarts list.

The trunk, satchel, and wand-holster seemed to be fairly innocuous purchases, Harry could easily see how useful they would be. However, Narcissa had ‘strongly suggested’ buying several other items that he couldn’t help but wonder at, for one had been the monogrammed handkerchiefs and matching scarf. Handkerchiefs were obsolete, and why would a scarf need to be monogrammed?

Harry realised now that he had merely bought basically everything that Narcissa had suggested, completely forgetting about his resolve to get some new Muggle clothes. He sighed as he realised that he would have to sneak out to get new clothes - and he knew it would be even harder to sneak them into the house.

The Malfoys had been very good to Harry that day. They’d taken him out to dinner at an expensive restaurant, and Lucius wouldn’t hear of Harry paying for his share. And when Harry had mentioned that he should go to the train station so he could get home, Lucius had graciously offered to Apparate him there. Apparation turned out to be sort of like teleportation, except for Harry getting bit of a sickly feeling afterwards. He’d cast a spell on Harry’s trunk, too, making it stay pocket sized until he took it out and placed it on the floor.

A soft hoot in the corner alerted him to his newfound pet, of sorts. The large snowy owl had been a gift from the Malfoy family for his birthday, although Lucius had admitted that it was partly so that he and Draco could write to each other for the remainder of the summer. Harry grinned at the recollection. Lucius obviously wanted for his son to be friends with someone famous, and who was Harry to deny him that?

After Harry had fed the bird, he snagged a book from his trunk and lay down on the bed. A History of Magic, by Bathilda Bagshot. Surely magical history would make for an interesting bed-time read?

Thirty minutes later, Harry had given up on the book, but had found a name for his owl; Hedwig. He stifled a yawn and pulled up the bed sheets over his still-clothed body.

“G’night, Hedwig,” he mumbled sleepily. “See you tomorrow.”

* * * * *

“Where is he?” Harry groaned and rolled over at the roar. “Where is that little shit? I’m going to kill him!” The door to his room swung open and knocked over a teetering pile of Dudley’s broken toys. Harry’s eyes blinked open.

“Uncle Vernon?” He reached for the glasses that lay on the side table, but was instead greeted with the fuzzy blob in the doorway entering the room and taking a firm hold of his neck. Harry’s hands automatically reached up to try to pry off those of his Uncles, gasping and stuttering he managed to loosen the grip enough for him to be able to breathe.

“IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT YOU STUPID FREAK!” Vernon screamed at Harry. “NOW I’LL HAVE TO GET RID OF THE DAMN THING!” Harry, disorientated from a combination of his rude awakening, lack of oxygen and his inability to see without glasses, stared at him nonplussed.

“The owl was a gift, Uncle. I’ll get rid of it…” Words failed Harry as his Uncle suddenly dropped him back onto the bed. He scrabbled at his bedside cabinet for his glasses, but was foiled by Vernon pulling him by the arm out of the room. He was half dragged and half stumbled down the stairs into the living room.

“I DON’T MEAN THE OWL! I MEAN THE RUDDY TAIL!” Vernon screeched, and as he let go of Harry he turned, showing a creeping, curly-pink tail.

Harry collapsed into a heap on the floor when Vernon let go of his arm. Automatically, he curled into the foetal position where he lay, his hands and arms covering his head and face. He heard the first blow a moment before he felt it. The sharp cracking of one of his ribs and then the burning pain that always came after a broken bone.

“See me teach the bastard a lesson, Dudley?” The harsh snarl came from his uncle. “You try. Go on. Hit him.” A softer blow to the side of his head, but Harry could still feel the pain, and knew there would be bruising. A booted foot kicked at his left temple next. Vernon, Harry thought, followed by ‘black eye’.

 “I’m sorry!” Harry screamed out. “I’m sorry, I’ll fix it, I’ll get rid of it, I promise!” Thump, another kick, this time across his back. Thump, again. “I’m sorry, so sorry, I’ll do anything!”

“Little brat.” Petunia’s high pitched nasal voice cut through the haze of pain. “Don’t you get blood on my carpet? You hear me?” A gulping sound and then a glass thrown at him. He could smell sherry; she’d been drinking already. A piece of glass dug into his neck, Harry screamed shrilly.

“SHUT UP YOU STUPID FREAK! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!” Vernon again, voice hoarse. Thump. Thump. Thump. A kick to the head. Thump. Thump. Thump. Some time later, another voice pierced the hazy mist.

“Daddy, I want to go to McDonalds, can we go to McDonalds?” A petulant whine from Harry’s cousin.

“Of course, Dudley.” Always gets what he wants, Harry thought bitterly, but he didn’t begrudge this fact now. If he was lucky, it might save Vernon from beating him more. Vernon’s voice was calm now, all of his temper spent bruising Harry. He leant down to growl at the small boy curled on the floor. “Clean it up, boy, and get to your room. I don’t want to see you again. Ever,” he spat, and Harry felt the warm globule of saliva hit the back of his neck and run slowly down onto the carpet beneath him.

When the Dursleys left a few minutes later, Harry began his long crawl upstairs. The glass left on the floor from his aunt’s sherry glass dug into his hands and knees, but he couldn’t see to pull any of it out or to avoid it without his glasses. After a time, Harry reached the staircase. Slowly, carefully, he pulled himself to his feet and, using the banister as a crutch, he hobbled upstairs gingerly. Once his glasses were secure on his face, he extracted a rusty pair of tweezers from underneath his pillow and began to systematically pull out all of the glass that he could.

Luckily, most of the shards were still sticking out, but there were several on Harry’s feet, and one on his right hand that refused to come out. He sighed, but after a glance at his battered watch realised a full hour had passed.

When the Dursleys came home three hours later, the only trace of the attack was a faint smell of bleach.