Harry Malfoy's Trials

The First Chapter

Harry Potter's Fall

Little Harry Potter was four years old. He was short for his age, very short. He was only two and a half feet tall and skinny, miserably skinny. He had huge emerald green almond eyes, a rat's nest of black hair, and a thin face. Harry also wore a pair of broken round glasses that he constantly had to push up the bridge of his nose. He wore baggy, old, used clothes that was once his cousin Dudley's. He lived with his Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia on Number 4 Private Drive as according to his aunt and uncle his parents died in a car crash, which caused the lightning shaped scar on his forehead. Harry does not remember his parents, after all he was only four years old and his mum and dad died when he was only one, that said his Aunt Petunia would often glare at him, sneering at how much he looked like his dad but has his mother's eyes. Aunt Petunia wasn't nice to Harry. Neither of the Dursleys were nice to him. He slept in a cupboard under the stairs while his cousin Dudley had two bedrooms (one for him to sleep in and the other for his toys), had to do many chores while his cousin played and he was punished frequently for things he couldn't explain. Like how one day Dudley was chasing him and he ended up on a branch of a tree suddenly; or how the doors in the house suddenly locked and wouldn't open; and there was also the time where a trashcan somehow chased around Old Mrs. Figg's cats. Harry couldn't explain any of these occurrences, but for whatever reason the Dursleys decided to blame him and punished him for it, which was usually going to bed without any dinner or spending days without end in the cupboard surrounded by disgusting spiders and cobwebs. The four year old had little creativity, any of which was squashed by the Dursleys, but he did sneak in some toy soldiers into his small and cramped bedroom which allowed him to past the time he is stuck in there without growing completely bored.

He was also a good runner. A very good runner for his small age. He had a lot of experience running away from Dudley and his friends. Today, for example, Harry was running in the local park, Dudley and his friends chasing after him. They were running away from the main play area and to a very small forest that was fenced in. Harry looked behind his back and marveled at the fact that for being quite a fat boy, Dudley could run for quite some distance. However, Harry was more worried about Piers who was a very, very fast runner for a four-year-old. The boy in question was only a foot behind Harry which caused the small Potter to run even faster. However Harry's legs tripped up causing the boy to fall, skidding on the grassy ground and causing his glasses to crack.

"He fall! He fall!" Piers laughed. "Dudley he fall!"

"I see," Dudley said catching up to Piers. They laughed at Harry as the small boy tried to struggle to his feet. The closest Harry reached was on his knees before Dudley pushed him down again. "What matter Harry? No get up?" Dudley laughed.

"Stop it," Harry groaned as he tried to get up again, only to fall down. From the playground Vernon and Petunia Dursley was watching, Vernon chuckling. "Look at that Petunia darling, they're all playing nicely. A little rough fun does a boy good. You mark my words, nothing gets a group of boys closer together than rough play. Look! They're going to run again."

Harry got up and started running. His heart started to pump faster and faster, he felt a cold sweat drenching his skin as he closed his eyes wishing he was somewhere, anywhere, away from the park. Even if that place was the cupboard with his toy soldiers. His legs felt as if lava was pouring through his veins, an angry burn ran through his muscles as he started running with a limp. "Harry! Come back!" Dudley yelled out as he and Piers chased him. "You're too fast! Fall again!"

Harry continued running. He knew that if he could reach a street then the boys would stop chasing him. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon always told Dudley, and only Dudley, not to run in the streets. He could see the fence that blocked the forest from the rest of the world and ran towards it, his lava-filled legs screaming in pain, his heart on the verge of a breaking point, his head pounding with fear. He was almost there, almost at the fence. He just had to jump and—

A hand grasp Harry's ankle as he jumped and he felt his weight crashing down on the grass again. His body exploded in pain and he could hear the sickening crack of his glasses as his head collapsed on the ground. He turned to see Dudley holding onto his leg and pulling the small child towards him. "Where you going Harry?" he asked.

Harry flinched, bracing himself the inevitable pain of his cousin's slap but it never came. Instead he was stopped by Aunt Petunia calling out, "Dudley! Dudley, it's lunch time!"

"Lunch!" Dudley smiled, turning to Piers. "Let's go Piers!" He said gleefully as the two children all by forgotten about Harry and ran to eat. Harry winced as he slowly gotten up. His legs were still burning and his head throbbed painfully. He reached and rubbed it, his hands stopping before his scar. When he felt like he could walk again Harry started to, slowly making his way towards his Aunt and Uncle. His vision was severely limited; the cracks in his glasses made everything looked double and it was very difficult to judge distance. He only knew he was close to his aunt and uncle when he heard Aunt Petunia's angry voice, "Harry! What are you thinking breaking your glasses like that? Get over here!"

Harry felt a soft hit on the back of his head and a pull from his arm as Aunt Petunia pulled him towards the park bench. "You think we're giving you lunch after this, you are wrong boy," she sneered. "Your uncle and I spend good money for these glasses and now we're going to have to fix them again."

"Harry is so mean," Dudley said with his mouth so full of food that bits were spraying out as he talked. "He broke his glasses again."

"If it were up to me I say let the boy run around blind," Uncle Vernon gaffed, "Letting him stumble around until his eyes fix themselves."

"If we do that, how do you think the neighbors will think?" Aunt Petunia said. "They already know the boy can't see."

"We can just tell them we've sent his in to get fixed," Uncle Vernon said. "If they ask we'll just say they keep getting delayed or something."

"Vernon that'll won't last forever," Aunt Petunia said.

"Well what else are we supposed to do Petunia darling? The boy's glasses cost us nearly two hundred to repair last time!"

"Well this time we'll have to be sure the boy is more careful," Aunt Petunia said, looking down at Harry. Harry felt something bad in his stomach; he knew that whatever is going to happen he will be spending time in the cupboard.

He was right. As soon as they've returned home the first thing Uncle Vernon did was shove Harry into the cupboard and locking the door after ripping his glasses off of his face.. "You are not coming out until your glasses are fixed boy, and then it is chores until you've paid your debt!"

In the blurry darkness Harry felt for his toy soldiers. He had to swat away a couple of spiders that were crawling around them. Sitting on his bed with nothing else to do he played with his figures, making them march around the bed before engaging in battle which consisted of Harry smashing the toy soldiers against each other until he decided which one will fall. Minutes slowly turned into hours. He could hear his cousin and Piers upstairs, their playing causing dust to fall from the bottom of the stairs that was Harry's ceiling. His stomach started to growl but his door remained locked. Harry knew that if he knocked on the door he would only get in more trouble. So he continued to play and wait in the blurry darkness. When he got tired, he just collapsed on the bed until he woke up again.

A day passed like this. Then two days. Then a third, and finally a fourth.

On the fifth day the door was finally opened and Uncle Vernon's fat large frame stood in front of the door. "Don't break these ones," he threatened as he shoved the new glasses onto Harry's face. "Now go out and work on the garden. It needs weeding."

"Yes Uncle Vernon," Harry said.

He went outside and felt the unusually hot and sunny day's heat. Still in the same clothes from five days ago, Harry bent down and got on his knees before the small garden path that lined the walkway from the sidewalk to the front door. Using his hands, he spent the next hour pulling weeds as the hot sweltering sun's beams shined onto Harry's pale neck and arms. He was a sweaty mess when he was done and he didn't take two steps into the house before Aunt Petunia ordered him outside again. Taking a gardening hose she sprayed Harry "clean" before making him stand outside to dry. Harry used the time to quickly use the bathroom and walk inside to do his indoor chores which included vacuuming the entire first floor, doing the dishes, and helping Aunt Petunia with dinner, which was the first meal he ate in a long time.

After dinner he was allowed to have a very short bath with cold water and he returned back to his bed under the cupboard for the night.

The next day was more or less the same: Harry woke up, Uncle Vernon dragged him out of the cupboard and he spent the day doing chores while Dudley sat around and watched television. Harry was currently vacuuming in the television room. Dudley was sitting on the sofa with a big fat piece of chocolate cake on a plate sitting on his lap watching a cartoon that Harry never saw before. The vacuum was too big for him, easily towering over his small frame so Harry had to hold it by the middle as he pushed and pull. It was a slow terrible task; it usually took Harry half an hour to get one room done. When Harry neared the sofa Dudley was sitting on, the fat child thought it would be funny to bully Harry. He took the fat piece of chocolate cake and held it in front of Harry. "Want a bite?" asked.

Harry looked at the piece of cake, his mouth already salivating as he looked at the fudge icing and little chocolate shavings that peppered the top of the cake. He nodded eagerly. "Yeah," he said.

"Here," Dudley said holding out the plate and the fork he was using. Harry reached out, his stomach growling in anticipation of eating the chocolate cake (needless to say the young Potter have never tasted chocolate before). But just as Harry's fingers were about to reach the fork Dudley's hand slipped and the chocolate cake fell onto the carpeted floor spilling everywhere as it seemed to smash into pieces. "Oops," Dudley laughed. He threw down the fork as well. "There!"

"Duddles? Dudley what was that noise?" Aunt Petunia asked from the kitchen.

Dudley's face screwed up into an ugly sight as his cheeks became red and fat tears rolled down his cheeks. "Mummy!" he cried. "Harry smacked my cake down!"

"What? Harry Potter come here!" Aunt Petunia yelled.

"But Aunt Petunia—"

"Now!"

Dudley laughed as Harry placed the vacuum on the floor and stepped over the cake. Dudley turned and said, "Get me another piece of cake, cousin!" Harry just grimaced.

Aunt Petunia looked furious with her hands to her side and her long horse-like face in a disappointed frown. As soon as Harry walked into the kitchen she said, "Why did you have to antagonize your poor cousin like that? Dudley worked hard for that piece of cake and you just decide to smack it down to the floor? Harry, you will go into that room, apologize to your cousin and clean up the mess you caused. After that you are going straight to your room, do you understand?"

"But Aunt Petunia—"

"Do you understand?" she repeated.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry sighed. He turned around and made his way back into the living room. Dudley was still sitting in the same exact spot but he had a large chunk of the cake in his hands, which he was eating.

"Where's my cake?" he asked with his mouth full of food.

Harry ignored him and turned the vacuum back on. He started vacuuming the rest of the cake ignoring Dudley's jeers. "Hey! Hey! I'm talking to you! Hey!" Harry felt a hand on the back of his head and was pushed into the vacuum, thankfully missing the unit entirely but again was pushed to the ground. Harry felt something weird on his lips and poked his tongue out to taste something extremely sugary. Dudley pushed him directly into the frosting. Harry heard Dudley's laugh as he got back onto his feet, wobbling a bit. Lifting up his used shirt, Harry cleaned his face before completing the task, vacuuming all he could before returning to the kitchen for a spray and sponge to take out the stain. Dudley laughed and jeered at him all the time, pointing with his fat chocolate-covered fingers as Harry rubbed the stain aggressively but it wouldn't come out!

"Ahh!" Harry yelled in frustration. All of a sudden he looked down and the stain was gone! And the vacuum cleaner jumped a couple of inches, starting itself and landing on its side.

"Mum! Harry did something!" Dudley yelled out, trying to crawl away from the vacuum cleaner and Harry. Harry just stared at him in confusion. He did nothing! All he did was clean the mess Dudley made.

"Harry!" Aunt Petunia yelled as she walked into the living room.

"The thing started by itself!" Dudley said pointing at the vacuum.

Aunt Petunia's lips thinned as she pursed them together. She took long strides towards Harry and pulled him towards her. She sat down and held Harry across her lap with one arm. Harry looked up to see Dudley smirking. Aunt Petunia raised her hand and brought it down on Harry's butt, spanking him repeatedly very roughly. Harry flinched with each spank, tears welling at the edge of his eyes which only caused his cousin to snigger harder. Aunt Petunia gave Harry twenty welts before she stopped. By the end Harry's rear was stinging madly and Harry had to try his hardest to keep the tears from falling. Aunt Petunia grabbed Harry by the lobe of his ear and dragged him to the cupboard under the stairs, opening the door and shoving the boy in there before locking it. "It was not me! It turned on like magic!" Harry cried out.

"There is not such thing as magic," Aunt Petunia said before locking the door and closing the shutter, leaving Harry to darkness again.

This time they've left Harry in there for two days. When Uncle Vernon unlocked his door it was life as usual as nobody talked or even mentioned Harry's punishment or the fact that the boy barely ate anything in more than a week. Harry did his chores and kept his head down as Dudley slacked off watching television or playing with his toys. It was an endless droll of chores and scolding, chores and scolding, chores and scolding. Harry was shocked to find that one day the Dursleys were bringing him to the park again.

It was a cloudy day that threatened to rain any moment now but Harry didn't care as he ran out of the car and to the swing set that he can do all by himself. The park was empty except for the Dursleys, Harry, and a couple of Dudley's friends who Aunt Petunia promised to watch that day. Dudley and his friends went to the jungle gym leaving Harry alone on the swings, which was fine for the little boy as he kicked his feet to swing higher and higher. Harry closed his eyes as the swing shot up, his legs extended and opened them as he swung downwards with his legs tucked in. He could see the whole park when he got up high enough; Dudley and his friends were no longer at the jungle gym instead they were hunched over near a tree in a huddle. Harry ignored them and continued to play on the swing set getting higher and higher. Perhaps this time he'll get so high that his body will be parallel to the ground. Harry smiled at his challenge and kicked with all his effort trying to get that extra inch of height.

He could feel it, it felt like he was flying his baggy clothes were fluttering around his body, he could feel his weight move from the bottom of the seat—something hard hit Harry in the face—and he was falling, head first, to the ground. Warm liquid was flowing from the place where something hard hit him, a rock or something, all he knew was that he was falling. Harry scrunched his eyes together wishing for a soft landing.

He continued to fall down further and further down the air towards the ground but Harry was sure that he should have felt the ground by now, he should be surrounded by unbelievable pain. But instead he just kept falling; falling deeper and deeper into the ground until he felt a tight pull on his navel. And all of the sudden the falling sensation was replaced by a tight compression as if iron bands were strapped across Harry's chest and he squeezed through a very long, very small metal tube—then falling again but when he his body hit the ground it wasn't hard, or at least as hard as Harry expected, but instead he landed on his back like he fell only two feet instead of ten.

Harry laid still anticipating Dudley and his friends to kick him or drag him up. But instead nothing happened. He couldn't even hear the traffic from the nearby streets… and somehow the park smelled differently. It turned from a humid city smell to… trees. Harry could smell a lot of trees. And flowers. Trees and flowers… there were no flowers at the park. Confused at the smells he was smelling Harry opened his eyes and looked in front of him.

A garden with exotic flowers and very neat hedges that were taller than Harry surrounded him. Harry was laying on a strip of grass that was next to the cleanest sidewalk Harry has ever seen. He got to his feet, his back aching slightly, and looked around. To his left was a rainbow of flowers, all of which were kinds that Harry never saw before. He approached them cautiously before a bigger, more impressive sight caught his attention.

It was a house, a very big house. Harry remembered only seeing houses like this on the television. A manor! That is what Aunt Petunia and the man on the telly called houses like these. It was a handsome manor house made of stone that stood like a small castle with diamond-paned windows. In front of Harry there was a set of double doors made of maple wood and had an elaborate carving in it. Feeling scared and alone, Harry decided to head towards the door of the manor. He took a step and felt the same warm liquid running down to the top of his lips. Harry reached to touch his face and felt a nasty cut on the side of his cheek running under his left eye; whatever hit him somehow missed his glasses completely.

"Ow," Harry winced when he touched it. He wanted to scream and cry, but didn't. He just rubbed his bloodied fingers on his used clothes and continued towards the doors. Perhaps whoever lived there could help him out. When he reached the door he made a fist and knocked on it. "Hello?" he called out.

The door opened to reveal the funniest man Harry had ever seen. He had a huge bald head and large pointy ears that stuck out and eyes the size of tennis balls. His skin was leathery and was only wearing a flour sack with a big "M" embroidered on it. "Hello," Harry said timidly, remembering the sentences Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon told Dudley if he was ever lost. "My name is Harry Potter. I live at Number 4 Private Drive; can I use your phone to call my aunt and uncle?"

"Harry Potter?" the funny looking man said, his tennis-sized eyeballs growing large when he saw Harry's scar. "You are Harry Potter?"

"Yes," Harry nodded. "My name is Harry Potter. I live at Number 4 Private Drive. Can I use your phone, please?"

Harry watched in amazement as the man disappeared with a large cracking sound. There was a far off cracking sound deeper in the house. Harry took a step into the manor and looked around. There were high walls with taller pictures of people who all looked alike. Harry guessed they were members of the same family as he looked up at them, and for some reason Harry had a strange feeling that the pictures were looking back at him.

"Harry Potter? What are you talking about elf, why would Harry Potter suddenly appear in our gardens?" a woman's voice asked followed by the sound of heels clicking on the floor.

"It is true, Mistress, Harry Potter is here," the funny man's voice said. The footsteps became louder and Harry saw a thinly tall woman with pale skin, blue eyes and blond hair. She stopped when she saw Harry standing there in his dirty hand-me-down clothes, bleeding cheek, and disheveled look. "Boy, who are you?" she demanded in a rather cold voice.

"M-My name is Harry Potter," Harry recited. "I live at Num—Number 4 Private Drive. Can I use your phone, please? I don't know how I got here."

The lady stared at Harry, her eyes going from Harry's disheveled looks to the scar on his forehead. Her eyes narrowed. "Who are your parents?" she asked.

"My parents…"

"Who are your parents, boy?" the lady asked again.

"James… and Lily Potter," Harry said, struggling to remember their names. The lady's narrow eyes widened a moment before narrowing again. "Potter, so it is you… why do you look so… homely?" she asked.

Harry stared at her in confusion, not knowing what the word 'homely' is. Was she referring to his clothes? "These are my cousin's first," he said. "My cousin is my age but is very, very fat. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia don't buy me new clothes."

"I don't know these people… must be from your mudblood side," the woman said more to herself than Harry. She stared at Harry as if contemplating what to do. She stepped closer and pulled out a stick of wood out of her pocket. It was then that Harry realized that the lady was wearing strange clothes it was like a dress that was too long. She pointed the stick at Harry and muttered, "Episkey."

Harry felt a heat on his cheek where the cut was and gasped when he found that the cut was gone! "How did you do that?" he gasped as the lady placed the piece of stick back into her pocket.

"You don't know what magic is?" she said a little snobbishly.

"Uncle Vernon said that there is no such thing as magic," Harry said automatically.

"Of course he would, the muggle," the lady said. "Harry, what do you know of your parents?"

"They died in a car crash," Harry said.

"A car crash?" the lady laughed. "A car crash killed Lily and James Potter? That's ridiculous!" She laughed coldly, making Harry very angry.

"Don't laugh!" He stomped, crossing his arms. That only caused the woman to laugh even more.

"Mother? Why are you laughing?" a voice asked. A blond boy around Harry's age but a foot taller came walking in. "Mother, who is that?" the boy asked, his silver eyes going to Harry.

"H-Hello," Harry said, relieved to see a boy his age. "My name is Harry Potter. I live—"

"Harry Potter?" the boy gasped, his eyes going to Harry's scar. "Mother and Father told stories about you!" The boy walked up to Harry and stood in front of him, which only made Harry confirm that he was a foot taller than him as Harry's head only reached the boy's chest. The boy took Harry's hand and shook it. "I'm Draco Malfoy," he said. "What are you doing in my home?"

"I don't know," Harry said frowning. "I was on the swing swinging, I got very high when something hit me. A rock or something that my cousin Dudley threw at me. I fell and I fell but instead of landing on the ground at the park I landed here."

Draco turned from Harry to the lady. "Mother, can't Harry stay here? I always wanted to meet him."

"Draco, I don't think this would be the wisest thing," the lady said. "What would your father think about this…"

"Mother please? I promise we'll be good. And when Daddy comes home I will talk with him," Draco said.

The lady pursed her lips but sighed. "Very well. But the three of us will require a very long talk. You know what the boy has done… what his parents had done."

"I'll show him all the right things!" Draco said proudly. His hand still holding Harry's. The lady's face brightened a moment before returning to her neutral position. She nodded and turned to leave the room, waving her stick again. The door closed behind Harry but he did not have time to marvel at it as Draco pulled his hand. "Come on Harry, I'll show you to my room! It's the best place in my home."

"Where are we?" Harry asked following Draco.

Draco smirked. "We're home! My home: Malfoy Manor, home of the oldest family of the wizarding community." He saw Harry's confused look and smirked. "I've got so much to tell you Harry! You're going to look up at me when I'm done!"

A/N: The muses sang and this story was the result of a simple "What if." "What if Harry was raised by the Malfoys? Adopted by them? Will an environment surrounded by the Dark Arts help Harry? Or will be fight against his adopted family?"