Title: One Decision Too Many

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, settings, objects, and spells in this story belong to J. K. Rowling. I am making no money off this story, and am doing it solely for fun.

Summary: There's something to be said about choices. Each choice we make determines our future. Harry Potter, during his life, made many choices. What if he changed the small ones? Would they accumulate? Would it be possible that not everything would turn up the same if Harry had done a little thing just a tad bit different? Choices are everything. Choices are anything. Choices are nothing. Which choice is Harry's? I've created four different situations where choices which Harry make changes. Only four. I will actually try to keep it to that limit for each book. This, by the way, is the first book. I intend to do all the books.

Genre: Adventure/Romance

Warnings: There may be some things you think are questionable. I advise you now if you are uncomfortable with either yaoi or yuri, then do not read. Character Deaths. You may hate me afterwards. Eventual HPDM slash. (It takes forever to happen, so it won't suddenly be sprung on you. :P)

Notes: I am so inspired by the Sacrifice Arc. If, at all, this starts to sound anything like it, tell me straight up. I do not want to steal any ideas ever. Also, if you guys want to know the choices that I've given Harry feel free to ask in a review.

(Everything before this point is the same; I didn't see the point in writing it.)

CHAPTER ONE: DIAGON ALLEY

Harry Potter, standing in Madam Malkin's Robes, looked exactly as wise as his eleven muggle years as he blinked blankly at the boy standing next to him, "Hello."

The pale boy gazed lazily back, watching as Harry winced when one of the fitting pins slipped through his robe and stabbed him in the side. He raised an inquisitive and sharp eyebrow, "Hogwarts too?"

Harry swallowed as he realised this could very well be his first friend at a new school, "Yes."

The platinum blonde boy raised his arms as the robes twisted, by themselves, neatly over his forearms. As he gazed into the mirror he smirked. Harry wasn't entirely sure what he found so amusing, but he attempted a smile as well.

As their gazes locked in their reflections, the boy scowled, "What house do you think you'll be put into?"

"I don't know entirely which house would suit me," Harry muttered as thoughtfully as he could, not wanting to appear naïve. He wasn't even sure how many houses there actually were.

"True enough. I hope I get put into Slytherin. Cunning and the best at Quidditch, they are. Do you have a broom to play Quidditch?"

When Harry didn't reply for lack of any sensible response, the boy cast him a sharp glance which made Harry aware of the colour of his eyes. Blue grey… like shark skin, Harry thought.

"Well, do you?" he wasn't as annoyed as before when he realised that Harry was only staring mindlessly at him.

"Getting a broom crossed my mind, but I don't play Quidditch," Harry replied after thinking for only an instant. After all, it was true. He had thought about buying one, purely because the sheet of Hogwarts requirements had restricted him from doing so. To think of a negative one needed to think of a positive first.

Abruptly, a wrap of material flung out from a compartment of a nearby shelf, which would've caught Harry in the head if he hadn't ducked in the nick of time. After correcting his glasses, which had slid dangerously to the edge of his nose, he looked back to the blonde who appeared to be watching him closely in the mirror.

"Pity, you have a… certain look about you. Slytherin could use you in the years to come," the pale boy drawled.

Harry was vaguely reminded of his cousin Dudley, but immediately shook the image off. It wouldn't be good to judge on first impressions. If Harry had learnt anything from Hagrid in the past day it was exactly that. It was entirely true that if Harry had listened to his first instincts he would've run from the half-giant with his tail between his legs, so to speak.

"I'm Harry, you are?" He put a hand forward to clasp the boy's, ready for a hand shake.

The blonde eyed it cautiously, before only delicately grabbing one of Harry's fingers and shaking it slightly, "A pureblood. Are you?"

Harry frowned momentarily as he watched the pureblood boy wipe his fingers inside his shirt, but instantly brushed it off, "I might or might not."

"How isthat? You either are or you aren't," he enunciated, the words rolling off his tongue in a stately fashion – like it was a fact everyone knew or should know otherwise they should think themselves rather ignorant.

The newly informed young wizard paused to think. Pureblood… what could that refer to? He bit his bottom lip in thought; a curious habit that he had picked up after talking with the snake before. He had first bitten it to stop his lip from tingling with all the hissing he was doing. Now, it was just second-nature.

Nature… Of course! To be pureblood must mean if you come from two parents, both of magical nature and family orientation. Harry resisted the urge to smile, "I'm half. Your name is?"

It was obvious that Harry's answer wasn't what the arrogant boy was expecting, but nonetheless he deigned to reply, since he seemed to be quite impressed by something, "Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. You know, I couldn't really even tell you were making it up half the time."

Harry's mouth popped open in surprise, and he found himself at a loss of words once again. It was a moment of silence that allowed Harry to think. Should he try to befriend Draco? There wasn't anything particularly bad about him… Draco appeared to almost be nodding off from the lack of conversation and in an attempt to make something of the situation Harry blurted out, "Can we be friends?"

Draco smirked, "Remember my name. I want to share a train cabin with you," he reached a hand to the collar of Harry's robe to fix it up and stared at him coolly, "I'll see you in Slytherin."

With a prim and proper nod Draco's robe elegantly untwined from his body, stitched up and landed in the hands of a man Harry could only guess would be Mr. Malfoy – of course, assuming the platinum hair was a family trait and so was that glare from which Harry could guess nothing.

At that moment in time another pin swiftly caught him in the shoulder, causing him to wince in pain which in turn caused Harry's glasses to go askew and make him hiss out the word, "Ow!"

By the time Harry rubbed away the hurt, re-positioned his glasses and looked over, the two of them were gone and in their place was Hagrid. He was smiling widely and was trying to get through the glass door, but was having trouble fitting through with a glass container the size of a medium TV in his hands. Harry stifled a smile and the garments fell soundly off him, leaving him feeling rather naked even with his usual clothes on. They floated, like leaves caught in the wind, over to the counter and Hagrid, who had somehow managed to get inside, dug his hand into one of his many pockets to pull out some sort of wizard money.

Harry walked soundlessly to Hagrid, mulling over his previous conversation wondering if Draco was his friend or not. He did seem to be interesting and have a very strong attitude. As Hagrid paid for the robes Harry glanced up at the hairy giant and stated in the same tone Draco had used, "I'm a half-blood."

"That's right, 'Arry. Though yer muther was a witch and yer father was a wizard, yer mum came from a muggle family. That does make you a half-blood. Who told you that?" Hagrid asked, concealing the glass cage behind his back, in an attempt to hide it from Harry, who could plainly see it.

Harry paid it no mind and thought before answering, "Someone from Slytherin."

"There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-know-who was one. Best make your friend's carefully, you hear 'Arry?"

Harry cast his mind back to the expressions on the Malfoys' faces and decided that it was possible they could be Dark wizards. However, he told himself not to judge from titles. For according to Hagrid and the rest of the wizarding he was the Boy-who-lived and yet he could not remember any of it nor could he claim he had any sort of special skill which made him so wonderful.

"Sure, Hagrid." He lied and nodded and smiled and felt just a little bit guilty, but ignored it.

"What are you hiding behind your back?" Harry asked to change the subject.

The half-giant eyes widened in surprise and tried to play coy, "Oh, this? This is nothing…"

"Then you won't mind if I take a look!" Harry squealed and darted behind him.

The young wizard's mouth fell open as he saw what was in Hagrid's hands. It was a glass cage with an owl in it. A white owl, but as Harry watched it turned seamlessly into a white starfish. Harry was once again at a loss for words. Unsure he was seeing correctly, he momentarily removed his glasses and squinted at it. Its limbs stretched, thinning, and moulded into a single white line. As it coiled into a pile it hissed at him pleasantly. Harry stuttered pointing at the now-snake, "Wh-what is it?"

"Yer birthday present! It was either the owl or this. They're sold out of everything else. Do yeh want an owl instead? They can deliver letters and they're very loyal."

Harry immediately shook his head vigorously, nearly shaking his glasses off.

"No way in a million years! Now, what I meant was what is it?" Harry asked, his eyes growing wider as the creature transformed into a white rabbit.

"It's a baby; a Hunt Figura. When it's an adult it'll be a Forma Statuam. But their adult transition varies on the owner. When it's a baby like this it can change shapes, but it can't be too small or too big yet. Once it knows its master, what'll be you 'Arry, it will pick a shape to match your personality more. As you grow up into who you are it changes until you find the person you want to be forever," Hagrid seemed to be pleased with his own explanation and proffered the glass cage to Harry.

"Here, take it and give it a name."

"Thank you so much, Hagrid. I've… never gotten a real birthday present before." Harry's eyes shone bright with adoration.

Hagrid huffed, clearly embarrassed, "Think nothing of it… You deserve it; after all you've been through."

Harry was silent for a moment, thinking about "what he had been through" meant.

Stuck under a stair in a closet, with nothing to play with except forgotten miscellaneous lost in the sands of time. One of these particular things, a book, his uncle and aunty had left in his room, popped into his head. It was old and musty and from what Harry could recall was falling apart when he touched it. However, that was what drew Harry to it in the first place.

He couldn't read the title because it was too worn and Harry wasn't entirely sure it was written in English anyway, so he didn't really bother trying. He had flicked open the book and a page had flapped out, falling to the floor. The young wizard, fearful that his foster family would grow angry, quickly picked it up, but when he tried to put the page back in he couldn't find the correct place where it had belong.

Instead, he lifted it close to his glasses and gazed at it curiously. On the entire page, which looked completely ancient, brown and tattered, there was only one word he could read correctly and accurately. The word whispered from his mouth, escaping without a thought, "Cautela."

"Whaddya say, 'Arry?" Hagrid asked scratching at his wild beard.

Harry blinked as the Hunt Figura turned back into a white owl, "I want to name him Cautela."

Hagrid shrugged, "As good a name as aneh. Come on. We need to get yeh a wand."

"A wand?" Harry asked, with a muffled giggle.

Surely Hagrid was just pulling his leg. Wizards didn't really need wands, did they? Instead, Hagrid nodded solemnly and pointed to a shop down the road. The sign promptly read, "Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C" under which sat a single stick, Harry assumed it was a wand, on a purple cushion. Harry swallowed loudly. The shop gave him the creeps.

"Do I have to get a wand?"

"You're not a real wizard without a wand 'Arry," Hagrid smiled encouragingly; "I'm going to get yer books and other stuffs. Go on. Ollivander doesn't bite… hard."

Harry figured that Hagrid had to know what he was talking about and walked towards the store with a newfound purpose. What Hagrid hadn't realised was that Harry has taken Cautela from his cage and was wearing him on his collar in the form of a white moth. When Harry arrived inside he was mildly surprised to find no one there and as such walked further in gazing at everything. Moreover, he was calmed by the lack of anyone inside. Had anyone truly been there Harry would've surely been completely freaked ou-

"By Merlin's beard, it's Harry Potter," a soft voice whispered behind Harry causing him to spin around in shock and the hairs on his neck to stand up. With his heart beating a mile a minute and his breath in sharp intakes Harry's eyes locked onto an old man sitting amongst the shadows, leaning forward ever so slightly. His dark stormy eyes met Harry's and Harry felt goosebumps form on his appendages.

"I'm sorry, son, didn't mean to scare you. You'll be wanting a wand, now, won't you?" the man, who by now Harry had presumed was Ollivander, asked turning on his stool to the many cabinets and shelves positioned behind him. They seemed endless. Perhaps, Harry thought whimsically, they are.

Ollivander's fingers skimmed over the boxes, like an experienced pianist playing a Mozart piece, and he almost seemed to float down the long aisles. Like magic, Harry commented ironically to himself. Abruptly, the old man paused and picked out a box. In a sudden change of mood he leapt from the shadows, flicked the box away and placed a wand firmly into Harry's hand, "This one. Try it."

Harry looked at his wand. It seemed like a perfectly normal stick. Except it felt smooth and extremely light. Something about it seemed… odd, but Harry couldn't figure out exactly what it was.

"What are you waiting for? Give it a wave!" Ollivander shouted, his voice oozing with excitement.

The young wizard took a deep breath and thought about a particular symbol he'd draw in the air for fun. For a second he stood and thought, but a symbol popped into his head. A picture he'd seen somewhere… A cartoon character! When he realised exactly how he wanted to draw out the symbol he opened his eyes, positioned his arm and bit his bottom lip as he concentrated. Harry started with a low curl of his wrist, a right flick and he was just about to tap the air when Ollivander snatched it straight from his hands, a panicked look on his face.

"What are you doing!" he whispered with suppressed rage in his eyes, the storm blowing into life.

Harry blinked, "I was just wavin-"

"What taught you that?" he asked violently.

Harry took a step backwards, "Sir, you're scaring me, I want to leav-"

Ollivander took a leap forward, gripped Harry on the shoulders, digging his fingers into Harry's muscles, and began to shake him, "Tell me where you learnt that movement."

Harry began to reply that he didn't know where he learnt it from, when the wand that Ollivander had snatched let sparks, angry looking and violent, shoot from the tip. Harry watched in pained silence as they lit up the room, casting an ominous glare on their surroundings. Ollivander grip loosened and he finally let Harry go as spectacle ended.

He glanced ever so slowly at the boy a curious expression on his face. Harry finally recognised it as fear. The old man lifted the wand and handed it to Harry, his hands was shaking fiercely, "Take it. Take it away. I should've known. Should've guessed. Too good to be true…"

Harry swallowed his fear away and stepped out the door, never taking his eyes off the old man – who had begun to slink back into the shadows, muttering to himself. Harry, after what seemed like an eternity, finally found himself stepping out of the store and onto the path.

The doors closed shut right in front of his face, and Harry was glad to be done with it, even though his nose had nearly been taken off. A hand, large and powerful, fell onto his shoulder, causing Harry to yelp out in surprise. He was greatly relieved to find that it was only Hagrid's hand.

Harry let out a sigh of relief, "Thank god, its you Hagrid. Ollivander is crazy."

Hagrid frowned in confusion but shrugged it off. Cautela turned into a walrus the size of Harry's head and clapped his hands enthusiastically. The young wizard laughed in delight and gazed at his surrounding, realising that – finally he had somewhere to officially belong. A soft fuzzy feeling entered his heart and he found himself almost crying in joy.