A/N: Ok, I usually write Slash, and it will happen for this eventually, but for now it's not even romantic.
Imagine that James and Lily were tempted by Voldermort, and that Lucius wasn't. So what would happen to their kids? That's right! Draco is what Harry was. In some places this will seem like a basic rewrite of JK Rowling's series, but trust me, I've spent a long time think this first book through. If nothing else I get to write an EVIL Harry, which is something we don't see. So, what you think?
Draco Malfoy and the Philosopher's Stone.
One – The Boy who lived.
Dillon and Simone Wilcox were as normal as people came. They lived together in a small three-bedroom cottage just outside of London. Dillon was a tall man, robust man, with blonde hair and deep sapphire eyes. His height and build made him a little intimidating on first sight, but when he smiled it was almost as if the sun came up. He and his wife owned the café just down the road called 'Dragon's Keep'. It was well known to the people of the area as the best place to get an earl grey.
Simone was small in comparison to her husband. Her frame was light and delicate, as if she was sculptured of spun glass. Her hair was as black as ebony and her skin as pale as snow with eyes as dark as her hair, she was often termed as Snow White by her friends. She had worked beside her husband until the coming of their first child, Caroline, three years ago. Cally took mostly after her father and was already much taller then most girl's her age, and her eyes were the same dark blue. Her hair was black though, like her mothers.
Up until a week before Dillon and Simone had been expect a fourth member to their family. The whole street had been getting ready for the event. There was no family in the street more loved then the Wilcox's. But Lucius Wilcox, named after Dillon's obscure older brother, was born prematurely. He did not survive more then a day, barely long enough to be welcomed into the world by his parents.
Dragon's Keep had not been opened for days, Dillon had not been able to leave his wife or young daughter alone at a time like this. Simone had spent those days in tears, and as a consequence Cally had had been as worse off as her mother. She didn't quite understand why her mother was so sad, all she knew was that her little brother wasn't coming home. For the little girl that was enough to make her upset.
Their neighbours and friends had all called, murmuring soft sympathies over the phone. But for the most part they let the family grieve in peace. If they had stopped to think about it they would have realised how strange it was that no family had gotten in contact with them.
Simone's family had passed away some years before, but Dillon's family was supposed to be quite large. Dillon talked very rarely about them to his friends, all he said was that they were rather busy and didn't have much time for his slow life. Simone didn't talk about them, though she knew of them, it always seemed to make Dillon sad.
Today Simone seemed a little better, though her eyes were red rimmed, she was up early and had even cooked breakfast for them. She and Cally were eating when Dillon woke up. Well, Simone was trying to eat, Cally was attempting to cover herself with as much food as possible whilst her mother tried to stop her.
Dillon didn't notice the tawny owl that flew past the window while he made his tea as his eyes were trained on the picture his wife and daughter made.
"You should open the shop today Dill," Simone told him when he sat down on the other side of Cally, catching her little hand and keeping her from throwing her meal at him. "You can't stay holed up here forever darling, Cally and I will be fine, we might go down to the park for a while." Cally made a delighted noise and Dillon couldn't quite bring himself to say no when she turned on him with those big eyes.
"But only for half the day," Dillon compromised, "I want to spend some time with my girls, all right?"
"Okay Dill," Simone smiled at him, "have a good morning at work." They kissed each other good-bye, and Dillon walked down the street to the café.
The café wasn't all that far from their cottage and with the sun out Dillon didn't mind the walk. At the end of the street a tabby cat sat, tail twitching slightly, looking up at the street sign. Dillon stooped to scratch it on the head.
"Now who do you belong too kitty?" It looked up at him with sharp blue eyes, making a soft purring sound. He smiled, studying the markings around her eyes. When he stood back up she went back to looking at the sign. "Have fun reading Kitty," Dillon told it before he continued on his way.
Dillon called in some of the waitresses, set about making sandwiches for light meals for his customers. He knew it was going to be a busy day when the café was almost full half an hour after he started. He and the girls were filling orders all morning, even though they weren't serving a great deal of food as both his cooks couldn't come in.
It wasn't till Miranda mentioned it, but most of his customers were strangers. And they weren't dressed normally, but in robes. Bright robes, one man, who was a few years older then himself, was in a colourful violet robe.
"Must be a party in town," Dillon murmured, "Just be nice okay Mirry?" The girl smiled and nodded, going back to serving the brightly clad customers.
"You should see all the owls Dill," one of his regulars cried when he came in. "I've never seen an Owl outside of a zoo before, and today I must of seen thousands!"
Dillon's smile froze on his lips. Owls, strangers running around in robes. Dillon swallowed, attempted a bright smile and kept working. He hadn't had any contact with his family, outside of a Christmas and Birthday card once a year, since he went off to boarding school in London when he was eleven. Could this have something to do with them? He managed to dash it from his mind whilst he was working.
Until he overheard a group of his customers talking.
"You-Know-Who is finally-"
"Yeah, the Malfoys-"
"I heard their son Draco-"
Dillon had to go out the back, picking up the phone he was half way through calling a number he hadn't attempted in years when he stopped himself. If anything were wrong, really wrong, they'd contact him by themselves. He sighed, placing the phone back in the cradle, he'd feel like the idiot they often called him if he phoned them after all this time. He had sent them a letter, regarding the death of his baby, they would just think he was being emotional.
Instead he called Simone.
"I'm going to be late Simone," he told her, "the place is packed, I can't close early."
"That's all right," he could hear her smiling on the other end of the phone, she sounded so much better today, "I was just going to take Cally to the park to feed the ducks. We'll see you tonight."
A quick goodbye and then she was gone. Dillon had wanted to tell her, but she would urge him to call them. At the moment that was not something he wanted to do. So he went back to work and kept himself busy till it was time to go home.
Simone and Cally were waiting for him when he got there. "Look Daddy!" The little girl cried, patting the same tabby cat from this morning. "We saw birds today!"
"The park was full of owls," Simone elaborated, "how was your day?"
Dillon was about to answer when a thousand shooting stars shot across the sky. Cally jumped up, trying to catch them, the cat dancing out from beneath her feet and dashing up onto the brick fence.
"I think something may have happened to my brother's family."
Simone looked at him in surprise. "Are they all right?"
"I'm not sure," he kissed the top of her head, "I'll call them first thing tomorrow, it's much too late to call them now." And with that they went inside had dinner, put Cally to bed before going to bed themselves. It took a while for Dillon to get to sleep but eventually he consoled himself. He would call his brother tomorrow and everything would be all right.
He could not have been more wrong.
While Dillon passed into a slight sleep beside his wife, the cat that remained on their fence, watching the end of the dark street with it's sharp blue eyes. It was there that an old man appeared. Like the strangers Dillon had seen today his robes were bright. Though he seemed very old with his long silver beard and hair that escaped from beneath a ridiculous looking hat, his eyes twinkled with life from beneath wire-rimmed glasses. The man was hunting through his robes for something.
He seemed to realise he was being watched and looked up, seeing the cat. He chuckled lightly before he went back to searching. Finding what he was looking for the old man pulled out what looked to be a silver lighter. He held it up to the first light in the street, clicking it, the light fading from the streetlight. He clicked it until no streetlight remained on, the little light from the moon leading him up to the Wilcox's cottage.
"Fancy seeing you here Professor McGonagall." He looked towards the cat, only there was no longer one there. In its place was a rather sever looking woman, dressed in rich green robes. She wore spectacles in the same style as the markings as the cats face had had.
"Good evening Professor Dumbledore." Her voice was slightly husky with weariness and frustration.
"You have not been off celebrating Professor?" Dumbledore joined her on the brick fence, his own bright blue eyes watching the end of the street.
She sniffed slightly, her noes wrinkling in distaste. "Celebrating? They're acting like rowdy children, Albus!" Professor McGonagall looked more then a little grumpy at the thought. "I was right here when the bight lights went across the sky. Dedalus Diggle never did have much sense."
Albus Dumbledore chuckled softly, "leave them be Professor, we've had little to celebrate about in the last ten years."
Professor McGonagall huffed, far from impressed. "And swapping stories, I must have 'You-Know-who' and 'Malfoy' a hundred times on my way here." She paused, as if unsure how to continue, as if this is what she had been leading up too, this was why she had spent all day around this house. "They're saying that You Know Who is gone."
"Of all people I would have thought I had cured you of this ridiculous 'You Know Who' nonsense. Not saying his name only gives him more power. You can say his proper name Professor: Voldermort," Professor McGonagall cringe slightly though Professor Dumbledore continued as if he hadn't noticed. "I have never seen a reason to fear using his name."
The look Professor McGonagall gave Dumbledore was half irritated, half in awe of the man before her. "It's alright for you to say, you're the only one You-Kno- Oh all right 'Voldermort' – ever feared."
Dumbledore smiled from beneath his beard. "Stop it my dear Professor, you're making me blush."
McGonagall ignored the comment, "they're saying other things as well Albus." Again she seemed at a loss of how to continue. "They're saying that he went up to the Malfoy's house. And that he - that they're dead."
Dumbledore let his head fall.
"Oh Albus," McGonagall whispered softly, her eyes tearing. "Dear Lucius and Narcissa. I never thought-" For a moment her words were lost in her tears.
He reached into his robes, bringing out a handkerchief for her. She used it to dab her eyes, sniffing softly.
"Is it true, about their son Draco? They're saying that he tried to kill him but couldn't. They're saying that he couldn't kill Draco Malfoy. And that that was what destroyed him."
Dumbledore nodded.
"It's true?" The Professor started, "I can't believe it, after all the people he's killed, he couldn't kill that one little boy? Little Draco Malfoy survived, but how."
"I can only guess Professor, but we may never know."
Dumbledore lifted a gold watch from his pocket, checked it and returned it to its place, his eyes going back to the end of the street. "Hagrid's late. I suppose he was the one who told you I was coming here."
"He did," she agreed, "but why here?"
"I am bringing Draco here to his uncle and aunt. They're his only family now."
McGonagall's mouth dropped. "You can't leave him here Albus," she stuttered, "I'm sure they are a really wonderful family, but they're Muggles, they have nothing to do with our world. Lucius always maintained that his brother wanted nothing from us. You can't leave him here Albus, there won't be a person in our world that won't know his name. He's going to be a hero."
"Exactly," Dumbledore's face was now serious, "A thing like that can ruin a person. Famous before he has even begun to live, for something he won't even remember. He's much better here, away from all that."
McGonagall could only nod, unable to think of a good argument. Instead, she asked another question. "So how is he getting here?"
"Hagrid is bringing him."
McGonagall seemed a little shocked. "You would trust Hagrid with something this important."
"I would trust Hagrid with my life."
"Yes," McGonagall seemed to be rolling her eyes, "his intentions may be well, but you can't pretend he's not occasionally careless – What is that?"
Through the quiet of the night came the roar of an engine, causing both the Professors to lift their heads towards the sky. Trough the air came a motorbike, big and black, the sound echoing around them. The bike landed and the man on it rivalled the size of the bike. He wore a heavy cloak of dark material and boots that connected with a thud on the asphalt beneath them. A shaggy dark beard covered half of his face while bright chocolate eyes looked out at the two of them. He towered over them, a mane of tangled hair flying as he turned and got off the bike.
"Good evening Professors," came the rough voice from beneath the beared.
"No problems I hope, Hagrid?" Dumbledore asked.
"No Professor, I got him in and out all right before the Muggles started sniffing around. The little thing fell asleep as we flew over Bristol." Hagrid murmured.
"Where did you get the motorcycle?" McGonagall asked, eyeing the contraption suspiciously.
"I borrowed it from young Severus." Hagrid shifted slightly and they watched as he produced a heavily wrapped bundle from beneath his coat. He handed it carefully over to Dumbledore. "Try not to wake him sir," he said in a hushed whisper. When Dumbledore turned, however, Hagrid stopped him. "I wondered if I might say good bye Professor."
Professor Dumbledore smiled and offered the bundle to Hagrid. He placed a scratchy kiss on the forehead of the young child before pulling back. He was sniffing when Dumbledore turned and walked towards the front porch of the Wilcox's cottage.
Hagrid wailed suddenly, the sound echoing in the night, causing McGonagall to jump slightly. She caught the big man's arm quickly, trying to hush him. "Little Draco off ta live with Muggles," he sobbed softly, "It's not right."
"Yes, yes," McGonagall muttered awkwardly, "but you mustn't wake them Hagrid. Hush, please." She added as an after thought. The big man nodded, still snuffling.
"It's not really goodbye Hagrid," Dumbledore's voice flowed back to them softly as he placed the small child on the doorstep. The night air was brisk but the child slept on, his small face peaking out from beneath the blanket. A tuft of blonde hair fell lightly over the lighting shaped scar on his forehead. Dumbledore placed a single letter with the small boy before standing and walking away from the door.
The three of them, on the dark street, took one final look at the child who looked so small at that moment.
Hagrid gave a final loud sniff. "Best be getting the bike back to Severus. Goodbye Professors." His voice was gruff with tears. He got back onto the bike and went off into the night.
"I suspect I shall see you soon Professor," Dumbledore smiled, the woman nodded, sniffing softly and walking off down the street, her boots making a smart tapping sound on the pavement. Dumbledore took the silver lighter, clicked it and all the lights came back on at once.
He looked at the child, "Good luck Draco." And he disappeared into the night.
The young boy continued to sleep until his cousin Cally almost tripped over him in her rush to go outside the door. He didn't know that while he slept glasses were raised in quiet corners. "To Draco Malfoy," was whispered through their lips, "to the boy who lived."