A/N: Alright, I'm trying my hand at a Harry Potter fic. Why? Because it was in my head. That, and I just wanted to write, but I didn't have the energy to work on one of my other stories.
Anyways, here's what's up. I don't think I'm going to have any pairs, first off. Second, my chapters won't always be this short, if I decide to update again, and if this seems like a story worth continuing. Third, I reserve the right to make the Slytherin gangs slightly OOC when not in front of the school. Fourth, I plead lack of sleep and late when posting and finishing this, so if the golden trio are OOC right now, flame me and I'll fix it when I've slept.
Right, well, there's not much more I can say on this. It's just beginning, and if you want me to keep it up, review!
Now, please enjoy my story.
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Harry Potter could have been, arguably, the most famous wizard next to both Voldemort and Albus Dumbledore. Every wizard in the entire magical community knew who he was. His was a household name, much like Mr. Clean. Children of the next generation would grow up knowing the feats he accomplished, including knowing that he faced and survived the Dark Lord not once, not twice, but four times.
Nothing ever went right for the boy-who-lived. In his first year alone, he found an enemy, learned that a teacher wanted him dead, almost died by: broomstick, troll, three-headed dog, vampirific plant, living chess peices, and an evil megalomaniac with a dark wizard stuck to the back of his head.
So it should have come as no surprise that when the brunette gryffindor had told his best friend to go away, the Powers That Be would have taken him quite literally.
It all started with a bad day.
Ron had snapped at Harry, who had snapped back, who then proceeded to start a verbal sparring match with the famous student. They had completely ignored their mutual friend Hermione, who had been trying to calm them down. After a short while, they had gathered a decent sized crowd.
Ron had been raging at Harry, his burning face matching his flaming red hair. "And another thing! You're always prancing around, all, 'Oh, look at me! I'm the bloody boy-who-lived, and no matter what I say, happens. Bow down to me!'" He had thrown up his hands, effectively punctuating his little speech.
Hermione, her hair frizzing more than usual from the straining friendship between the two boys, tried to stop them again. "Boys, calm down. There's no reason to fight..."
Harry's jaw dropped in response to Ron. "You think I want to be famous? How many times do I have to tell you, I don't want any of this! I want to be normal. I don't want someone out to kill me, regardless of what you think. I'd give anything to be a normal kid, for once, instead of what I have to live with."
"Now, Harry, Ron knows..."
"Oh, really? Then why do you just keep smiling for the camera's? Why don't you try telling them to bugger off, that you'll curse them if they don't leave you alone? Hm?"
"Ron, you know Harry doesn't..."
"It's not like I want them to plaster my face over everything! I've tried to tell them that I don't want to be interviewed, I don't want to be put in the spotlight. Do you think anyone listens to me? Really? I'm just a face, just a figure head to the wizarding world. Nobody cares what I think!"
"Harry, you don't mean that..."
"Of course nobody cares what you think. Because everything you say must be right, or you wouldn't have said it, you annoying, scar-faced freak!"
"Ron, you take that...!"
"So that's what you think of me? You think I'm the same as Malfoy, always prancing about, spewing the stuff that my father tells me without thinking for myself at all?"
"He doesn't..."
"Yeah, that's exactly what I think. You're a selfish prat who doesn't give a damn about anyone but yourself. Why don't you go become Malfoy's best friend? Then you and him can join the death eaters, and have a blast!"
"You don't..."
"You know, I wish I'd never become your friend, Weasley. If you think that way about me, I should never have let you into my compartment in first year."
Silence had greeted Harry's statement. Only the fire had made a sound, popping and crackeling merrily. Nobody had moved, and the gryffindors barely breathed for fear of turning the wrath of either Ron or Harry onto themselves.
Finally, Ron had stormed away to the dormitories. Hermione had turned to Harry, starting by saying, "Harry, you don't mean that..."
"No, Hermione, I do. I mean it." Harry had turned and exited the common room, leaving and going to the Room of Requirement to be alone with his smoldering anger.
The boy-who-lived really shouldn't have been surprised when he woke to a vision of green.
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Harry was so warm. It was nice, sleeping here, underneath the blankets. Colder than normal, yes, but warm nonetheless. It made the youth want to fall asleep once more, to just burrow into his cocoon and not leave until he felt like it. Only, he had been awaken for some reason, and he couldn't quite remember what.
"Wakey wakey," said a highly familiar voice. Harry knew that it was the one that had awoken him, and he knew he should be concerned for some reason, but his sleepy mind couldn't quite catch up with his memories yet. Besides, the warm blankets were beckoning him to fall into slumber once more.
"Don't make me curse you," the voice warned, taking a sharper tone to it. A few moments passed, and Harry had almost fallen back asleep, when someone sighed. "Have it your way, then."
There was some muttering, a small swish, and then Harry was jolted awake as buckets of freezing water was dumped on him from an unknown source. He sputtered as the cascading waterfall ceased, wiping droplets of arctic liquid from his face. His gaze was blurry, and he couldn't quite make out the figure as a towel was thrown into his face.
However, now that he was effectively awake, he recognized the voice when it spoke once more. "Good morning, Potter. Welcome to the land of living once again." The drawl was unmistakable.
"Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed with shock. "Wha- who--" He couldn't believe that Malfoy, the son of a notorious death eater, the arch-nemesis of himself and his best friend, had somehow gotten into his dormitory.
Draco, blonde haired, perfect in every way, walked over to the brunette's bedside table and picked up a pair of slim-wired, silver glasses, and thrust them into the shocked teen's hands. Harry immediately placed the glasses on, even though they weren't his, and was further surprised to see that they were his exact perscription.
His eyes were some of the worst out there, so his glasses had to be specially commisioned by a lens company in order to have everything in the sharp clarity that it was now. The fact that the oval spectacles fit him and allowed him to look at his nemisis with sharp clarity told Harry that, somehow, his old glasses had been filched from him and replaced.
Harry leaned back on his arms, wondering where his wand was, and asked the question that had been nagging him for the past two minutes or so. "How did you get in here?" he bit out.
Draco folded his arms regally. "Please, Potter. I have the password. So does every other Slytherin." His look told Harry that it was an obvious answer, and that he shouldn't have even asked the question in the first place.
Harry glared at the blonde, confusing Draco to no end. The Malfoy heir knew that Harry wasn't a morning person, but wasn't this going a bit far...? After all, he had done worse to the boy-who-wouldn't-die before. Water was nothing.
"How did you get into the Gryffindor dorms?" Harry asked venomously.
A moment passed, then Draco laughed. "Oh, that's good, Potter. I haven't heard that one." When Harry didn't move (in fact, he looked confused), the young Slytherin's laughter tapered off. To the shock of the brunette, concern flitted across Draco's face. "Did you hit your head harder than you said you did?"
Harry snorted. "I didn't hit my head. I would know if I did." He belatedly realised that the floor was getting cold, and shifted some of the blankets he was tangled in so that he sat on them.
Draco's mask didn't change. "You must have taken a harder dive than we thought, if you can't remember..." The blonde shifted, running his hand through his yet-to-be-gelled hair. "You're sure you can't remember hitting your head?" he asked again.
Harry shook his head stubbornly. "I didn't hit my head, and why am I even still talking to you?"
Draco sighed woefully. "I knew that you were hiding something. We'll have to take you to Pomfrey, have her check you out again," he said as he moved to where Harry was sitting. "What can you remember?" he inquired.
"You know I'm a Gryffindor, and I don't know how you got the password, but I'm sure that if Ron finds you here, he'll beat you to a pulp." Harry glared as intensly as he could at Malfoy, who put his head into his hands and made a strangled sound.
"Well, that explains some. You can't remember anything, and so you're making up things to fill in the blanks." He sat on the bed next to Harry's and raised an eyebrow. "Which means, unless you're blind, you can't very easily explain away the fact that you're in the Slytherin dormotories, can you?"
With a shock, Harry realised that he wasn't in the familiar red and gold room that he slept in. This one was completely made of granite and located, obviously, in the dungeons (which explained how cold it was). Green drapes graced the beds with matching comfortors and pillows. All of the fabric was made from the same shade of green, with accenting silver thread wherever there was embroidery. Even the striped pajamas that Harry was dressed in were green and silver.
"Wha- How--"
Draco smirked half-heartedly. "There you go, being articulate," he joked. "By the way, if you need further proof that you're a perminant resident here, check your wards."
Harry's mind slowly caught up with his eyes and ears, and he realised the rationality of checking his wards. He had found various spells over the summer that he started to use on his bed, wards that would go off if someone trespassed them or tried to bypass them. He closed his eyes reluctantly, giving Malfoy one final glare, and set a thread of magic to see if the wards were broken.
Not a single one had been disturbed.
His eyes opened, regarding Malfoy like a cornered animal. There was only one explaination as to why Malfoy would be able to get around them without sending them off...
Draco answered Harry's unspoken question. "They weren't set off because they were set to include the one person you trust your life with- your best friend."
Harry's mind froze.
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End Chapter
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