Chapter Text

Harry Potter was no ordinary boy. And he had only just found out about this last night. He lived his whole life, belittled, brought down and kicked around by his aunt and uncle, as well as his fat faced, snobby cousin, Dudley. So you could imagine his surprise when he found out that he was more than just a kid whose parents died in a car crash, whose whole life revolved around being nothing more than an insignificant punching bag. He was a wizard.

“Yer a wizard, Harry,” those four magical words pronounced by an intimidating looking, but sweet, gigantic wizard named Hagrid, changed his life forever.

That same half giant took him to Diagon Alley. It was like a whole other parallel reality. The street was filled with witches and wizards, in long pointy hats and differing coloured robes. He was able to spot a few other normal looking kids, like himself, being shown around by what he reckoned must have been wizard guides, just like the one Harry had right by his side.

Diagon Alley was a place filled with magical shops. Harry couldn’t believe some of the things he saw through the windows.

Another thing that Harry struggled to get his mind around, is the fact that he was famous here. He was recognised almost immediately by all sorts of witches and wizards. They all shook his hand, said things along the lines of “welcome back, Mr. Potter,” and bowed down till their noses were mere millimetres off the floor.

This sudden significance, this attention, was certainly disorienting. And at the same time, Harry thought he may have actually enjoyed it.

Hagrid took Harry to Gringotts, a wizarding bank that apparently had real life dragons, where he came face to face with a vault that belonged to him. A vault of gold, that he would inherit from his mother and father, who were part of the wizarding world, unlike his uncle and aunt. They would have been jealous if they knew how rich Harry was. Dudley would go pink and start yelling at his mother and father to put even more funds into his already well-invested bank account.

Who was laughing now?

After taking out enough Galleons to buy everything he needed for his first year of Hogwarts, a magical school that Harry would be going to this year, and a little more in case something was to happen, he and Hagrid went to a super secret vault. Hagrid refused to tell Harry what was in that vault, said it was of the utmost importance. But all that Harry could see, was a small looking, grubby brown package that Hagrid wasted no time putting into his coat pocket.

Although the journey around Gringotts was terrifying; they would speed around the massive open space in carts, Harry was a little disappointed that he didn’t get to see the dragon.

The first place they went after getting Harry’s gold, was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid.

"Listen, Harry, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Harry entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous.

Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Harry started to speak. "Got the lot here. Another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head, and began to pin it to the right length.

"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harry.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Harry was reminded of Dudley, his spoiled, bratty cousin. Although, this boy hadn’t had that sort of… patheticness about him. Harry found himself impressed by his eliquency.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," said Harry.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

"I do, Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been. Imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," said Harry, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting. He had no idea what all these new terms meant.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," said Harry, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," said Harry. He felt the need to look good in this boy’s eyes. He has been kind to him so far, despite having that air of superiority. He felt like an equal for once. The children at his school would avoid him because of Dudley. Or look down at him. He never had a single friend because of this. Harry didn’t want to miss out on this chance of making an actual friend.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage... lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," said Harry, with a small smile. “So what if he drinks now and again?”

"Do you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. "Well. I suppose it’s kind of amusing. Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like going into it right now.

"Oh, sorry," said the other. Harry could tell he may not have meant it. But how could you truly be sorry if you don’t know what it’s like. "They were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean." Harry mumbled.

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

Harry was about to agree with him. He couldn’t imagine what it would have been like if Dudley ended up going to Hogwarts with him, but before he could reply, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Harry, kind of wishing he could talk to his new friend longer, but also feeling kind of anxious and not knowing what to say, hopped down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy.

“See you at Hogwarts,” Harry smiled just a tinge, before running over to Hagrid to show him his new robes.

The two of them ate their ice creams, before continuing their shopping. Harry got all of his books, a magical quill that could change colours as he wrote, cauldrons, scales and all sorts of ingredients he will need for potions.

But the best part about all of it was, was the owl that Hagrid bought for him, as a late birthday present. You were allowed to bring an owl, a cat or a toad to Hogwarts. And Hagrid reckoned owls were popular.

Harry couldn’t find words to thank him. He never got a present anywhere near this amazing for his birthday before. Besides his Hogwarts letter, of course. They went to Eeylops Owl Emporium to get it, before heading to Ollivanders.

Harry tried out several wands, before finally finding the right one for him.

“Curious,” said Mr. Ollivander, the shopkeeper, who stared into Harry’s green eyes with an intensity that quite frankly, terrified him. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather; just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother… why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things -- terrible, yes, but great."

Harry shivered. He wasn't sure he liked Mr. Ollivander too much. He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.

As Harry and Hagrid walked back to the Leaky Cauldron, Harry finally decided to bring it up.

“Hagrid? What’s… Slytherin and Hufflepuff?”

Hagrid paused and looked down at Harry. “Already heard about the houses, eh? Well… Hogwarts is split into four houses. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. They sort you based off yer traits and all that.”

“Oh… I hope I’m not sorted into Hufflepuff, then.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with being a Hufflepuff, Harry. Hardworking folk. Very loyal too.”

Harry thought the word “Hufflepuff,” in itself, sounded kind of funny and unintimidating. Slytherin, on the other hand, seemed to draw him in more than he would like to admit. It sounded more ominous and dark, and yet Harry found himself relating to it without even knowing what it was.

“And how about Slytherin?” Harry finally asked. Hagrid looked a little uncomfortable. “Well, their traits consist of being ambitious and resourceful. But…” he stopped walking once more and looked down at the boy more than half his size. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."

You-know-who, Voldemort, was the wizard that killed Harry’s parents when he was a baby, and gave him his lightning shaped scar, but somehow, failed to kill him, and disappeared. Although Hagrid thinks he isn’t dead, that he’s still out there, weak. Unable to rise to his full power. That saying his name might somehow give him more energy to do so.

Harry was the boy who lived. The only one to ever survive before Voldemort. He was special, significant. All this time, deep down in his heart, he knew he was destined for more. He knew that the mundane life just wasn’t for him.

Harry shook his head. What was he thinking? Him, significant? What would it matter. He’d probably end up in Hufflepuff, knowing the disappointment he always turned out to be.

No, he nodded to himself a little. Hufflepuffs are hard workers. He was a hard worker. Always did his chores right and never complained. Would it really be so bad?

He was about to ask about the other two houses, before bumping into a tall wizard. At his level, all he saw were long strands of light blonde hair, and when he looked up, he was staring into cold, icy grey eyes above a long pointed nose.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry muttered, swallowing nervously.

“It’s… quite alright,” the man drew his words out lazily.

Harry was about to follow Hagrid when his eyes caught the boy he met at Madam Malkin's. Of course. This must be his father.

“It’s alright, father. He’s the boy I met at Madam Malkin’s.”

“Good to see you’ve already made friends, Draco,” said his father, but something gave Harry the impression that he couldn’t care less. More so than that, He was caught off guard by his analytical stare, as if he was trying to figure out where he might have seen him before.

“Come on! Gotta catch yer train back to the Dursleys soon!” he heard Hagrid’s voice.

It wasn’t hard to spot him in the crowd, him being so big and all.

“See you on the train,” said the blonde boy, Draco, as him and his father walked away. Harry pushed his way through to Hagrid.

“What’s the hold up, Harry? Can’t be losing ye so soon,” Hagrid chuckled, seemingly unaware of Harry’s encounter. The dark haired boy couldn’t stop thinking about that eerie stare. He understood by now, that more often than not wizards would recognise him as the famous Harry Potter now-and-again. But that kind of stare was unlike any other. It sent chills down his spine.

On the train back home, Hagrid was talking about dragons, and other magical things, as muggles, non-magic people, looked at him like he was bonkers.

Harry listened, fascinated to learn more about the magical world, and dreading leaving it behind even if it was for a short time. He remembered the kindness of that boy, and how he was keen to see him again on the train. And Dudley wouldn’t be there to antagonise him against him.

Hagrid gave Harry his ticket, and sent him back home to the Dursleys to wait for the term to start. Harry managed to convince Uncle Vernon to drop him off at King’s Cross Station, and the other merrily agreed. Perhaps it was because of the weird Platform number on the ticket, “Platform 9¾”, and how funny it would be if he wasn’t able to find it.

He thought about how these muggles treated him all these years, how horrible everyone has been to him. And yet, all of the wizards he had ever met randomly, who bowed to him and shook his hand, were the nicest people in the world. And even when he met that boy, he didn’t know he was the famous Harry Potter, but still wanted to be his friend. He was finally going to where he belonged. Away from these muggles.

Muggles… Harry’s mouth went dry, thinking about them. He couldn’t help but feel resentment deep inside. Antagonising Dudley didn’t give him quite enough satisfaction, it wasn’t anywhere near enough to balance out the amount of bullying and shaming and abuse he went through. Soon he will be part of a world in which he truly belonged. Soon.