A lot can be learned from life inside a cupboard. Now that's not to say it's a preferable situation over, well, most other living spaces, but there are upsides. For Boy, one of the best things about his cupboard is that it is too small for raging walrus like uncles to get into. Boy was rejoicing in this helpful fact, curled up in the smallest corner of his cupboard, for once, only nursing a few bruises. He learned something today, though he forgot one of his uncle's main rules in his excitement. Today he learned his name.

Harry James Potter.

It had a decent ring to it, Boy, or Harry rather, supposed. He had been Boy for as long as he could recall, though it made sense that he had a name, it would take some time to get used to it. The five year old was rather good at assimilating to new situations, an aftereffect of his Uncle's favorite game, "let's change the rules and only tell Boy once he's broken one".

School was soon Harry's favorite place to be. Despite his cousins efforts to make sure the younger boy was miserable, Harry found himself happy, even without friends. Upon learning to read, the library became a haven for the small wizard. The librarians wouldn't put up with noise so Dudley and his friends never got to stay long, and the sheer amount of knowledge available was enthralling. Going outside for recess quickly became a big no in Harry's book, the deciding factor being Harry Hunting. After three weeks of Harry Hunting and one unexplainable trip to the school roof, the raven haired boy swore off the playground for the time being.

By the end of the first term Boy had learned a few more lessons from his uncle. One, he will always be Boy at home. Freaks don't get normal people names. Two, freaks don't do better than Duddiums, despite the fact that it is hard to do worse than the dim chubby boy. And three, freaks don't have friends. The few children that dared try and befriend Boy were quickly scared off by Dudley and his gang.

By the end of primary school Harry was quite the paradox for the teachers. He could answer any and every question correctly when asked verbally, but any of his official tests showed him to be at the very bottom of his class. Harry had not been idle in school, despite his Uncle's restrictions he refused to hold himself back. He had practically lived in the library, eating up the information like some kind of machine. He did not read for the sake of reading however, while he did enjoy reading, it was what he could do with the information that kept him coming back for more. One book in particular made quite the difference in Harry's early years

The Organized Mind was a helpful tool for harry to build his own safe haven. The book described a way to organize your thoughts by picturing a place you knew well and 'storing' information, such as memories or information from school in different places, making them easier to find when needed. The main recommendation was your bedroom, a place most people could recall from memory without a problem. Harry however, found the idea of spending even more time in his cupboard, even if it was only in his mind, quite distasteful. He instead took the harder road and crafted his own mind scape. Every night before bed he made his way into his safe haven.

He began with a bedroom. Not one like Dudley had, cluttered with meaningless things, but one like the rooms he read about. It was simple at first. Just a simple bed and bookshelves. But as he progressed it grew, soon the room was furnished with a large four poster bed, wardrobe and a desk. A window looked onto grounds not unlike a forest, with trees towering high above the imagined room. It was upon realizing that he could make a world past the single room that Harry began adding more rooms to his little house, for that is what it became. A library housed all the wonderful information he gathered from school. An office became a place for him to think, many a work in progress was left in the 'drawers' of his large desk. His bedroom was his place of peace. He would lay down on the bed and clear his mind of anything and everything bothering him, which most of the time ended up being some hurt or another. His house did come with a cupboard, though it took quite a bit of deliberation before he did so, but he needed a place for negative memories. All the information and memories from his life at the Dursleys was locked away under the stairs as he often was.

Harry was in his fourth year of primary school when he first felt it. There was something in his forest and it felt wrong. As if it didn't belong. While he spent quite a bit of time ignoring it, he eventually reached the point of action on the feeling. He did what any other nine year old would do in his situation. He hid from it. The picture window in his bedroom became just that, a picture, as he moved his entire 'house' underground. He imagines miles upon miles of dirt and rock above him, separating from the strange dark entity that lived within the forest of his mind.

The summer was the worst time of the year for Harry. Mostly because Harry wasn't allowed to exist. Petunia and Vernon's veritable servant, Boy, lived in his place. Boy rarely left the property, the Walrus had no reason to avoid bruising Boy, as there was no one to take notice. When strange things happened around Boy he would be 'properly punished'. The week after the snake incident was the worst he had had in years. He wasn't fed once the entire week and had to sneak drinks of water from the bathroom sink during his few blessed bathroom breaks. The day of his release he was nearly delirious from hunger which was the only reason his brain could come up with for the letter currently in his hands. A letter addressed to him. Not Boy, but Harry James Potter, The cupboard under the stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Littl- wait! How did they know about the cupboard? Snapping out of his food-starved haze Harry further scrutinized the letter. Who could-

"BOY! GET YOUR SKINNY ASS IN HERE! WHERE IS MY MAIL?"

Startled out of his thought process, he quickly shoved the letter into his cupboard and hurried into the kitchen with the stack of mail in hand.

"Right here Uncle."

He set the mail down in front of his uncle, shoulders hunched, head bowed, as he awaited the punishment that was sure to come for his slowness. The meaty hand brought down to cuff Boy aside the head held force enough to send him stumbling.

"You'll remember your place BOY, no dallying. When I ask you do something you DO IT, post haste!" Boy didn't dare look up at his uncle, knowing eye contact was seen as defiance, but he knew that if he were to he would be met with the sight of his uncles purpling face as he ranted on. "Now off with you, back to your cupboard." Petunia shoved the stale ends of the bread loaf into his hands before ushering him back out of the kitchen. The food was quickly scarfed down, he didn't want to give his shrunken stomach time to refuse the sudden food.

Full for the first time in what felt like forever, Harry cautiously pulled on the string that lit the bulb in his cupboard, retrieving the envelope from where he had tossed it earlier.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)

by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic

by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory

by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration

by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi

by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions

by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection

by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS

ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK

Yours sincerely,

Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus

Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions

Witchcraft and wizardry? What is this, some kind of prank? A bit complex for Dudley… It was then that Harry began to remember all of his 'freakish' behavior, just last week with the snake for example. Or when he turned Ms. Manning's hair blue, or when he ended up on the roof on the playground. Witchcraft actually made sense in these circumstances… But how to get these supplies, surely you can't buy cauldrons and a wand in London? For that matter, how does he reply? They await my owl? Perhaps… I'll look for one when I go out to weed the garden tomorrow. They must have sent one if they expect me to reply this way.

As Harry had expected, a nondescript barn owl was sat in a tree behind the Dursley house. Making sure Petunia was busy inside the house, he quickly made his way over to the tree, reply in hand. The owl flew down on silent wings and took the piece of notebook paper from the small boy's hands before flying off.

To whom it may concern,

I would like to formally accept my invitation to your school and also inquire where I can find the supplies listed on my letter. I would also like instructions for how I am to get to Hogwarts on September first.

Thank you,

Harry James Potter

With the letter sent, Harry went back to work, resigned to his position until the return of the owl.

It was three grueling days before the owl returned with his letter. He was once again slaving over his aunt's garden when a letter was unceremoniously dropped in front of him from above. His only warning was a soft hoot, before the bird flew off once more. Apparently Harry thought with amusement they aren't expecting me to reply this time. Tucking the letter away in the waistband of his pants, pausing momentarily at the extra weight in one corner of the envelope. A bit more than just a letter then. Well, only one way to find out what. Too bad he would have to wait until he was back in his cupboard to find out what.

The weight it turned out, was a key. A vault key to be exact. Apparently his parents had left him some money, wizarding money at that. Now he just had to get to the bank it was stored at and get his supplies… easier said than done.

Mr. Potter,

We at Hogwarts are pleased to receive your acceptance. You will find the entrance to Diagon Alley through the pub "The Leaky Cauldron" visible from muggle London. The entrance can be found next to 19 Downing Street London. The sign should be visible to your aunt as she made the trip once before with her sister, your mother, and thusly will not be affected by the muggle repelling charm. This key is to your Gringotts trust vault, left to you by your parents. As for your arrival to Hogwarts, your ticket for the Hogwarts express should have been included in your acceptance letter. You will find the entrance to platform 9 ¾ between the barriers of platform 9 and 10. Just push your cart through the wall, it is an illusion hiding the door. I'm sure if you ask your aunt she can tell you more about it. We await your arrival.

Deputy headmistress,

Minerva McGonagall

Harry's plan was not without fault, but it was the best he could do with the given circumstances. There was a week until Harry would be expected to board the train to Hogwarts and he had yet to acquire his supplies. The reason for this was the amount of time it took Harry to stash away enough cash and spare change for a taxi fare to London. The weekend before the first of September Harry had finally snuck enough change and bills from around the house to make his escape. Wearing the nicest clothing he owned (which were still almost three sizes too big for him) pockets full of bills and spare change, key tied to a piece of twine around his neck, Harry Potter left the hell hole he called a home for the past ten years for good. I refuse to return here if I don't have to, Privet drive has never been my home. His back turned to the house, emerald eyes did not see the flash of light emanated from the home in response to his thoughts. Instead, he made his way forward to the next chapter of his young life. Somewhere in Scotland, a small spinning silver instrument went still. (this makes me excited and intrigued, keeps me reading, damn you're a good author)

It wasn't often in his life that Harry found himself thankful for his upbringing. Right now he had to admit it gifted him with the helpful skill of existing outside the notice of those around him. The shadows were his friend, they hid him from the prying eyes of the pub patrons. After watching a number of what he could only assume were witches and wizards, based on the robe like clothing they wore, disappear through a back door, he followed suit. The letter did say the entrance was through the pub. Hanging behind the doorway, he peeked around into the backroom just in time to see a man tap a long piece of wood, must be a wand, in a complex pattern on the brick wall. At the fifth tap the bricks seemed to fold into each other, creating a doorway to a street bustling with activity. Quickly darting after the tall wizard into the street, Harry looked around in barely veiled awe at the shops around him. There was an Apothecary with actual eyeballs kept in a jar in the window, a pet shop with owls and toads instead of fish or parakeets. It was an explosion of sensory input and for a moment Harry thought he might actually black out. Luckily, someone chose that exact moment to knock into him, jarring him out of his pseudo-panicked state.

"Watch where you're going street rat."

The tall blonde man who had knocked into him growled out before hurrying along. Apparently Harry thought bitterly Adults are still assholes in the Wizarding World. Shaking himself off, he continued on, more purpose in his stride as he resumed his search for the bank. This time not allowing himself to get distracted by his surroundings.

Gringotts was very hard to miss once Harry had made his way further into the alley it seemed to loom before him, towering over the other buildings surrounding it. He crept his way into the bank, quickly darting back into the shadows at his first chance. He would observe the goings on of the other patrons before deciding on a course of action himself. After all, those unsuited to a new environment are doomed to perish in it. Better to watch and adapt lest he make a fool of himself.

Harry was just about to make his way to one of the empty tellers, run by goblins if what he had overheard was correct, when a hand on his arm pulled him once more out of his thoughts.

"And what do you think you're doing, sneaking around our bank?"

Harry spun on his heel to face the owner of the gruff voice, only to find one of the bank goblins peering up at him with a scowl on his face.

"Oh… ummm. Sorry Sir. I was just trying to figure out how the bank worked before I made my way to one of the tellers… I didn't mean to cause any trouble mr…" Harry trailed off, unsure how to address the goblin in front of him. Said goblin seemed to be examining him, obviously wondering what a scruffy young boy could be doing at a bank.

"You may call me Silverstone, if you have business with the bank I will assist you. If not, loitering is not tolerated and I will remove you from the premises." The goblin was quite curious as to who this wizard was. It would seem that the boy was muggle-born from his actions, though most of those children treated the goblins with fear, not respect as the wizard in front of him had. Only one way to find out he mused, waiting for the boy to respond.

"Thank you Silverstone. I do have business with the bank. I would like to see my vault and retrieve some money for school supplies. I have my key here." As he spoke, harry pulled the key out from where it hung under his shirt, showing it to the goblin. "It would also be very helpful If you could maybe explain the currency here to me? If it's not too much to ask that is. I don't mean to be an inconvenience, sir." The boy's rambling was cut off by a low chuckle emanated from the goblin.

"It will not be an inconvenience Mr…" Silverstone trailed off, motioning with his hand for Harry to give his name.

"Harry Potter, sir." Harry flushed as he responded, embarrassed to have forgotten to introduce himself. The wizard noted that the goblin's eyes seemed to bug out of his skull upon hearing his name, perhaps my parents were rich? Why else would he recognize my name?

"Follow me Mr. Potter, I have a feeling you will have more questions for me before the day is through." Silverstone began leading Harry to a door behind the teller's desks, stealing a glance at the waif like boy every few steps. This was Harry Potter? Savior of the wizarding world? The boy acted like he had no clue how the bank worked. Like some muggle born, almost as if… no, that couldn't be right, the Boy-Who-Lived, raised by muggles? If that was the case, this was going to be a long meeting indeed.

Harry followed the goblin to a richly furnished office. The plaque outside the door read "Vault Manager Silverstone" giving Harry the idea that the goblin helping him was of some importance to the bank. Or maybe all employees had offices? Not important harry, focus on the task ahead. Push the questions in the Office for now. By the time Harry had sat down in the chair facing Silverstone's desk, he had successfully stashed the questions away in his Office and was once more fully focused on the Vault Manager in front of him.

"Mr. Potter, from what I have seen from you so far, can I assume this is your first time interacting with the Wizarding World?" There was a calculating gleam in the goblin's eye that made Harry once again wonder what the goblin knew of him. Information is power after all.

"Yes sir, I received my Hogwarts letter this past month and haven't been to Diagon Alley until today." Harry paused, trying to decide whether the goblin would answer his question. Coming to the conclusion that he had nothing to lose, he decided to just ask. "If you don't mind my asking sir, why did you look at me so oddly after I introduced myself? The only thing I could think of is that my parents were wealthy enough for you to know of their name, but I thought I would ask in case I was wrong." The goblin only stared at first, making Harry shift uncomfortably in his chair. He was a boy born to the shadows, scrutiny was something he did not often fall under.

Silverstone's answer was not at all what Harry was expecting. He was famous! Of all the reasons for the goblin's stare that had not even crossed his mind. And for something he didn't even remember doing too. Apparently, he was going to need to get used to being in the spotlight. Oh well, I have adapted before, looks like I need to once more. But first, information.

"Thank you for telling me all that. Could we possibly move on to my vault information? I could use something a little more benign while I settle my thoughts." The goblin chuckled at the wizard's assumption that there would be nothing exciting about his vaults.

"Sure thing Mr. Potter. First off, we will be covering your vaults not just one vault. The key you have is to your trust vault, you have access to that one until you come to magical maturity at 16, then you can take up the role as the head of House Potter and have use of the rest of the Potter vaults, as well as take an inheritance test to see if Magic has claimed you as heir to any other vaults." Silverstone could only look on with amusement as the boy's eyes grew wider and wider with each word out of the goblin's mouth.

"I'm sorry… what? Head of House Potter? Magical Maturity? Magic will claim… what?" Harry was thoroughly confused. Try as he might he could not sort the new information as fast as it was being given to him and quite honestly he was getting dizzy again.

"You are from a long line of Magical Purebloods, meaning they only married witches and wizards into the family. The Potter line can be traced for thousands of years and thusly, as the last potter alive, you will be given the mantle of Lord Potter upon your 16th birthday. Witches and Wizards reach their magical maturity when they turn 16, it is on this day that you will become a legal adult in the wizarding world, as well as receive any magical inheritance you may be entitled to, such as the title of Lord Potter, as well as any inheritances that Magic herself may grant you, though this is a much less common occurrence." The goblin paused to make sure Harry was still following, happy that the boy seemed mostly focused on the goings on around him, Silverstone continued. "When a magical line dies out the magic tied to that line does not disappear, instead it once more becomes one with the wild magic until Magic herself decided to bestow the family magic back into a wizarding bloodline. Every magical family, especially the old ones, have very specific magical talents inherent to their bloodline. The Blacks, for example, have been known to have shape shifters, or metamorphs in their family. The Lovegood family is known for giving birth to Seers and the Gaunt line is known for Parselmouths, or wizards who can speak to snakes." Silverstone paused here, noting that the boy had stiffened at his last sentence, could it be? "Do you have something to add, Mr. Potter?"

Harry shifted once more in his chair, before steeling himself to the goblin's gaze. Somehow I don't think the Lord of anything important fidgets in his chair like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Are these gifts always genetic? Or could you have one without being related to a certain family line?" For the first time since he sat down, Harry made eye contact with the goblin, pleased to see the Vault Manager didn't seem annoyed by the interruption.

"It would be extremely rare, Mr. Potter, but not unheard of. Do you mind me inquiring why you asked?" And there was the scrutiny again, Harry really needed to get used to this. Once more gathering his courage Harry responded.

"I think I'm a Parselmouth sir, I spoke with a snake at the zoo a couple months ago. Is that a bad thing?" While he had started off strong, the look he was given by the goblin caused him to waver towards the end of his statement.

"The Goblin Nation has nothing against those with your particular gift, Mr. Potter. However, it is seen by many in the Wizarding world as a dark trait. Voldemort being the last known Parselmouth in Wizarding Britain is the cause for most of this bias." The goblin sent an unreadable look at the small wizard in front of him as he spoke. Harry sighed. Of course there would be more reasons for people to ostracize him. "If that is all Mr. Potter, We can make our way to your trust vault and you can get on with your day. I'm sure you can find more information on the prominent families in Britain at Flourish and Blotts, the main bookstore in the Alley, though there would probably be better reading material down Knockturn Alley. Your decision really."

Harry was soon after ushered down to his vault in a cart ride that was really not safe, even if it was fun. He filled a bottomless pouch Silverstone provided him, for a price of course, though it was worth the gold as it would only open for Harry. He was given a brief overview of wizarding currency and how much they were worth in comparison to the muggle pound, and then sent on his way. From the looks he was still drawing from his oversized muggle clothing, Harry figured robes would be his first stop. The first shop he spotted seemed to be teeming with student age customers, apparently that was the go to place for school robes. Not wanting to bother with that right now, Harry ducked into another tailor in the Alley, Turnings, which held a wide variety of everyday wear, as well as formal robes. They did not however, Harry noted with interest, carry school robes. Lost in his musings he nearly jumped out of his skin when the shop owner approached him.

"Something I can help you with dear? I should warn you, my stock is a bit more pricy than most can afford." The tall auburn haired women sneered at his grubby hand me downs, obviously doubting that such a poorly dressed young man had the Galleons needed to afford her wares. Not liking this woman's treatment, Harry decided to find out just how well known he was.

"I assure you ma'am, I am more than capable of purchasing your wares. Though, perhaps I would be better taking my business elsewhere? I'm sure there are other that are shops more than willing to serve the Potter heir, yes?" Harry found immense satisfaction in the shock filled expression on the woman's face. As well as the subsequent ass kissing.

"Harry Potter! Of course, of course, I apologize for not recognizing you. How may I help you sir?" Her eyes flickered up to his forehead, zoning in on the scar there with obvious awe. With the women nearly drooling over herself to help him, and keep his business, Harry quickly had a full wizarding wardrobe as well as some trousers and pullovers that actually fit him. He changed into a pair of black slacks and a grey tunic like shirt that Harry assumed was the wizarding equivalent of a t-shirt. The belt around his waist had a clasp for his new Galleon bag and looking in the mirror as he left, Harry barely recognized himself. He looked like any other wizarding child making their way through the Alley. The one thing about the outfit that would take time to get used to is the cloak. The shop owner, Miss. Turning, insisted that he buy a few, seeing as they were a common accessory for wizard wear. The deep forest green cloak was by far the nicest thing he bought in the shop, but he had to agree with the woman that it suited him well.

It was midday by the time Harry had finished at his wardrobe shopping, and while he was hungry, he was reluctant to eat before he had a wand and some material to read. So far it was looking like the week before school would start wouldn't be nearly enough time to learn everything that was expected of him. Remembering Silverstone's advice, the young wizard looked around for the entrance to Knockturn Alley. Well, though harry upon spotting the aforementioned Alley makes sense why Silverstone was wary to advise me to look there. That seems to be a less than friendly area. Best not make any enemies until I'm better informed. Decision made, Harry pulled up his hood and ducked into Knockturn. He weaved through the crowd until he came upon what appeared to be a bookshop, tucked between an odds and ends store and some kind of pawn shop called Borgin and Burke's.

The store owner merely glanced at the short hooded figure before turning back to whatever book he had been reading behind his desk. Quickly making his way through the stacks, he stopped at a section titled "genealogy" where he found a book of genealogy charts, another on the recorded family alliances and feuds and a third one on the different family magics. His stack of books only grew as he made his way through the store, adding a few on traditional Wizarding holidays, the comings and goings of the Ministry of Magic and finally a collection on etiquette and customs. If the store owner blinked twice at the collection of tomes, Harry didn't notice. Quite quickly Harry found himself quite a few Galleons lighter and lugging a shrunken handful of books around in one of his cloak pockets.

He was on his way to back to Diagon Alley and the wand shop he had seen there when he spotted a familiar head of white blonde hair exiting the pawn shop he had taken note of earlier. The man certainly carried himself like someone of importance. Between his upturned nose and immaculate robes, Harry felt certain he would come across the blond man in at least one of his books. The man's mercurial gaze slipped past the small figure in green with the same dismissive air he had when shoving past Harry that morning.

Olivander was not entirely human, of this Harry was fairly certain. Not only did his store sign claim that it had been there more than two thousand years the way the man, if he could be called that, seemed to look directly into Harry's soul screamed supernatural. Well, more supernatural than your run of the mill wizard at least. Needless to say, harry was more than happy to be out of the man's shop once he had found his wand, twin to Voldemort or no, he had his own wand now!

Harry was nearly starving by the time he had stepped back into the hogs head in search for something to eat. He was quickly placed at a quiet table in the back of the restaurant and nearly inhaled his food. It had been months since his last proper meal and he wasn't about to let even a crumb go to waste now. Once full, he proceeded to pull out his books and set to work learning all he could about his new home. It wasn't too long before Harry came across the description of the Malfoy family. Rich as dirt, striking blonde hair, very powerful politically, he would bet anything that the man who had barreled him over was the Lord Malfoy. There were no ties between the two families, good or bad. So he would have to make a decision on their character by himself.

Further exploration into the Potter family showed quite a few ties, and a good many feuds as well. He explored the alliances first. The most recent allies were in the families Longbottom, Bones, and Weasley. These three seem to have been made during the war, so Harry assumed they were all on the same side, the "light" side, if he recalled correctly. It seemed a little odd, so group people as Good and Bad, when most were a bit of both. If his childhood taught him anything, it was to think for himself. Had he not he'd be back in his cupboard actively accepting his treatment as proper for a 'freak'. He would have to look into the politics of the situation before making any opinions. After all, a few of the older alliances with the Potter family were strongly aligned with the "dark" side of the war. The Blacks, for example, had been in an alliance with the potters since his great-grandmother Dorea Potter nee' Black married into the family. The Peverels were another family that was speculated to be dark, though their line had died out, they had married into the Potter line centuries ago. The final alliance was with the Prewett family, another 'light' family, this one formed towards the beginning of the 19th century for reasons unknown. As far as Harry could tell, the Potters had always had fingers in both pies. A grey aligned family. The youngest Potter couldn't help but agree with the sentiment.

After his lunch and subsequent reading, Harry made his way to finally get his school supplies. He walked past the book shop for now, as it was still horribly full, he made his way to Madam Malkin's for his school robes. Luckily, they rush around the shop from earlier in the day seemed to have died down. There were a few people meandering around the shop, but only one other person was getting fitted. The boy appeared to be around Harry's age, he looked around in a way that quickly reminded Harry of, who he had assumed to be, Lord Malfoy. Perhaps they were related? They certainly had the same coloring, white blonde hair and mercurial eyes.

"Hogwarts as well dear?" The lady that was working on the blonde boy's robes inquired at Harry. "Why don't you get up on that platform right here and I'll call for one of my helpers." She smiled at harry as he quickly followed her instructions and hopped up on the platform. Turning her head towards the back of the shop she hollered for the helper. "Candice! Come up front and help me please! We've got another first year for Hogwarts looking for a robe." The stout woman that bustled up from the back room gave Harry a charming smile before taking his cloak and getting to work.

"You're a first year too then?" Harry nearly missed the blond boy's question in all the commotion.

"Yeah. You excited for Hogwarts I assume?" Harry asked, praying that he would survive the conversation. Talking to people your own age is a little daunting when you've never done so before.

"I'd be stupid not to be, though I think I might have to smuggle my broom though. Imagine, a whole year without flying, I think I'll go mad! You play quittich then?" The blonde spoke so fast Harry very nearly lost the conversation, not to mention he had no clue what quittich is, only that it must somehow involve flying on brooms.

"I've not played quittich, no. Though, seeing as we can't play until second year, it doesn't matter to me much." Harry sighed, there was still so much he didn't know. If only there wasn't so much more to buy for school, he needed to read more of those books. Maybe I'll buy a few on recent history when I go to get my school books…

Draco looked a bit off put by Harry's admission to not caring about quittich, seeing as, in his mind, every boy his age played. Unless… the boy was carrying a book when he entered. "Ravenclaw then? You probably care more about books than about flying. Personally I'm going to be in Slytherin, it is the best house after all, my whole family has been in Slytherin. Though, you could do worse than Ravenclaw, like Gryffindor, or god forbid, Hufflepuff." The blonde made a face as he spoke the last two, as if just mentioning them left a bad taste in his mouth.

Harry, quite confused as to what they were now talking about, just hummed noncommittally hoping the other boy would change the subject before it became apparent how little Harry actually knew. Luckily it was in this lull in their conversation that the seamstress, Candice, who had been fitting Harry cut in. "Dear, I need your name so I can put your name on your robes, once I do that you're all done!" She smiled kindly up at Harry from where she was sat on a stool hemming his new robe. Well, here goes nothing, I wonder if they'll have the same reaction as the other lady?

"Harry James Potter, ma'am." Harry was pleased to see that aside from the slight widening of her eyes, Candice didn't start drooling over him as the last tailor had. Instead she just smiled and got to work finishing up his robe, professionalism at its finest.

Draco, however, was a different reaction altogether. "You're Harry Potter!?" The boys silver eyes seemed almost cloudy with disbelief as they quickly studied the dark haired boy, stopping his gaze at his forehead. Shaking himself off the blonde turned and stuck out his hand. "I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." His face once more was the closed off mask of a Pureblood heir, any sign of his previous confusion gone from his face. Harry's lips quirked at the reaction, apparently Silverstone was correct about his name getting him attention from high on the social ladder.

"Well met Heir Malfoy. Harry James Potter." Harry clasped his hand with Draco's as he gave, what he remembered from his reading to be, a traditional greeting. It was odd to use his full name, but no matter. He hadn't read much of his etiquette book yet, though he was fairly sure that had been the correct response. He was proven correct when Draco observed his response with a small smile.

"I'm glad to hear you've been properly raised Heir Potter. I'm sure-" He cut himself off as a familiar blonde Wizard made his way into the shop.

"Ah, Draco, there you are. Your mother is waiting for us at Flourish and Blotts." Stopping in front of the boys Harry couldn't withhold the shiver the tall man's piercing gaze provoked. "Who's this then?" The man didn't even direct the question to Harry, much to the small boy's chagrin, but instead to his son. Draco Harry thought is much more tolerable than his father.

"Father, may I introduce you to the Heir Potter, Harrison James." Harry couldn't withhold the small smirk from his face at the (quickly veiled) look of shock on Malfoy seniors face at Draco's response. He turned stiffly to the small dark haired boy, eyes scanning his clothing, which was now once more visible as the seamstress had removed the robes to spell his name on them. After a few heartbeats, apparently finding whatever he was looking for, the elder wizard bowed slightly to the younger wizard.

"Well met Heir Potter." Though there was no emotion on the man's face, Harry imagined he was sneering internally, if his actions so far were any indication to his character. Harry mirrored the action, bowing a little deeper than the man had to him in a not to the man's superiority in age. This was entirely instinctive on Harry's part, he had not read anything on bowing in the wizarding world. He had read about bowing in many Asian cultures and just prayed that the system was similar here. Not like he'll call me out on it in public. Pretty sure that would be a social no no. Seemingly satisfied with the bow, Lucius turned back to his son. "We must be off now Draco." And with that he turned and left, obviously expecting his son to follow, which he did. Not before saying farewell, however.

"See you on the train Potter!" Draco shot over his shoulder as he exited the shop in tow of his sire. Harry just waved. Once the Malfoys were out of sight Harry suddenly felt like a deflated balloon. Who knew social posturing could be so exhausting. He could only hope it got easier with practice.

The rest of the day went by without incident. Alongside his school books he purchased some history books, alongside a large tome Hogwarts a History which he hoped would explain the houses Draco had mentioned in the robe shop. The only other exciting part of his day was at the trunk shop. Apparently there was something referred to as 'Wizard space' that could make the inside of something much bigger than the outside. His trunk had three compartments, each opened with a different key. One was what Harry could only describe as a walk in closet, the second was a small library like room with shelves for walls and a small desk at the back of the room, the third was much smaller than the other two, but was much better protected, it required the key and a password. He had no clue what he would put in there yet, but it sounded handy so he bought it regardless. The best part about the entire trunk was the permanent featherlight charm and the fact that tapping the lid with his wand would shrink it down small enough to fit in his hand.

Finding somewhere to stay for the week was a bit of a challenge. The leaky cauldron wouldn't give him a room without an adult present, so he ended up at a small hole in the wall in Knockturn. He paid upfront for the week and made his way to the small room. It wasn't the safest place to stay but it was an actual room, so Harry wasn't complaining. He didn't actually leave the room much that week. He came down for a meal once a day, but otherwise spent his days reading or sorting information in his Mind Bunker. The only errand he did go on was the day before he was to leave for King's Cross. Remembering the owl used to send him letters back home he made a trip to the Owl Emporium, returning with a beautiful snowy owl he named Hedwig after a witch in one of his history books.

The week was over in what felt like no time. Harry had read through most of his course books, as well as the etiquette books and most of the recent history books. Apparently he was quite the figurehead, being mentioned in quite a few of the tomes. He headed to King's Cross Station armed with all this new information, dressed in a pair of his new fitted black slacks and another of the tunic like shirts in a deep blue. His cloak was stashed away in his trunk, he'd be walking through the muggle station after all.

Kings Cross was hectic that Saturday morning. Trunk in his pocket Harry easily slipped through the crowd to the barrier. He had sent Hedwig free that morning, confident that when the man at the Emporium told him she would make her own way to Hogwarts, he wasn't lying. The very solid looking barrier. Well, I have nothing to lose, I suppose. In an attempt to look inconspicuous he slowly leaned against the wall, only slightly surprised when he went through it as if there was nothing there. Entering the platform reminded Harry strongly of his first glance of Diagon Alley. The platform was busy, a bright mix of people in both robes and muggle clothing hurried about, helping children onto the train.

Harry hurried past groups of families in the midst of touching goodbyes, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through his chest at the fact that that will never be me. Violently ripping himself from his melancholy thoughts he continued his path towards the gleaming scarlet engine on the tracks ahead of him.

Apparently getting aboard the train while everyone else was busy with goodbyes was a good idea, as it took very little time for harry to find an empty compartment. Realizing he was in for a long wait, he pulled his trunk from his pocket, tapping it with his wand to restore it to full size, before pulling out the keys he had on a chain around his neck and unlocking his book compartment. He retrieved the books on magical creatures he had been reading and annotating the day before. One of the books was from Flourish and Blotts, which he was starting to understand as being more ministry regulated, as opposed to the book he got in Knockturn, which he was starting to worry might not be entirely legal for him to own. At least he finally found a use for the third compartment.

By the time the train had started to move Harry was still alone in his compartment, books sprawled around him as he worked. Parchment, he was finding, was not easy to take notes on. While annotating in the margins of the books was fine, he was starting to miss muggle notebooks. Thank god he at least had some pens, writing with ink and a quill on the train was a disaster waiting to happen. He was still surrounded by his little tornado of books and paper when the door to his compartment was opened by a familiar blonde, flanked by two boulder like boys.

"Knew you were the Ravenclaw type Potter." The blonde teased in his signature aristocratic drawl. "What's all this then? Can't wait until after the sorting to prove your place?" Chuckling, Draco sat himself on the opposite bench. With a dismissive wave of his hand the two boys still hovering in the doorway walked away, closing the compartment door behind them.

Harry looked up from his books to study the boy in front of him. He would be a powerful friend to have, although there was a flaw with that plan. The "friend" bit would be entirely improvised on Harry's part. Draco had entered the compartment and immediately started to tease the smaller boy, though somehow it didn't seem malicious. Perhaps this was friendly teasing? A little lost as to how he was supposed to read the situation, Harry decided not to take offense this time. He would figure out the difference eventually. He gave the blonde a tentative smile before responding. "Well, if your interaction with those boys you came here with is any indication, you seem to be doing the same for your spot in Slytherin." Harry's smile only grew as the older boy actually laughed at his comment, not at him, but at what he said.

"Fair point Potter, fair point. Though I really am curious, what are you doing?" He stood up as he asked, walking over to see the books and parchment Harry had been writing in. Eyes widening at the books from Knockturn. Well that theory was just confirmed, he'd have to be more careful with where he reads those.

"I'm comparing the ministry approved books on magical creatures with books from… an alternate source. I'm curious what the ministry doesn't want us to know. So far it's pretty interesting. Did you know there's a potion that makes werewolves harmless during the full moon? The ministry actually regulates it, crazy right?" It seemed a bit hypocritical of the ministry to keep werewolves from holding jobs or having children because of the danger they posed, and then regulating something that got rid of the danger.

Draco looked curiously down at the notes Harry had taken so far, having been unaware of this himself. He knew of the potion of course, his godfather had created it. What he hadn't known was that it was regulated so severely. "That is curious. We could ask my godfather when we get to Hogwarts. He's the Potions Master there, as well as the Head of Slytherin. He invented this potion, I'm sure he knows why." There was a definite note of pride in Draco's voice as he spoke of his godfather. From what Harry could tell, Draco very much admired his the man.

"That sounds like a good idea. Do you know anything about the other professors? All I've come up with is information on the Headmaster, dear god the man is mentioned everywhere." Setting the books aside, Harry turned his full attention towards the blonde in expectation. Information is power after all.

"Well," the blonde began "My father says the charms teacher is a half breed not safe to have around children." He leaned towards Harry conspiratorially. "He's half goblin apparently." Harry wanted to ask what was so bad about goblins but decided to hold his tongue until the other boy was done. It wouldn't do to offend the boy before he had gotten the information he was looking for. Even if the information was a tad biased. "The transfiguration teacher is extremely fair, even if she does favor her house a bit, head of Gryffindor she is." The boy's mercurial eyes made contact with emerald green, gauging the Potter heir's interest. Pleased, if a bit more pleased than he should be, to have the boy's full attention, he continued. "I already told you about my godfather, Severus Snape. He's the youngest Potions Master in a century. He's very strict in his classes but only really has a problem with the Gryffindors, as well as the Hufflepuffs sometimes. And then you have-" Draco was cut off from finishing by a loud bang. Looking up from their conversation they were met with the sight of a small dark skinned girl a lion's mane of curls.

"Have either of you seen a toad? Neville's lost one." Her voice was loud for someone of her size, though her hair matched it in volume. At the blank looks she stepped further into the compartment. "I'm Hermione Granger. You boys are…?" Draco sent her a withering glare, still ticked off from being interrupted mid-sentence by the nosey girl.

"Granger, not a wizarding name… hmmmm, muggleborn then?" The disdain dripping from the blonde's words either didn't register with the girl, or she just didn't care.

"Yes, imagine my surprise at getting my letter. First witch in the family, my parents were so proud!" Her smile was bright as she spoke, obviously pleased with herself. Though, in the silence following her statement she finally seemed to notice Draco's expression.

"Well, seeing as you're new to this, I'll let you in on a little secret." Draco leaned towards the girl in what was very obviously mock concern. "Busybody mudbloods like you are not exactly welcome in more, esteemed company." He let out a very dramatic sigh before leaning back, smirking slightly at the affronted look on the girl's face. "You're in the presence of veritable royalty Miss Granger, you should learn to respect your betters and know your place, don't just barge in somewhere and assume you're welcome. Now, scram before I catch something muggle." The poor girl looked near tears as she turned and ran through the door.

"What, pray tell, was that?" Harry looked at Draco, a dangerous gleam in his eye. "You do know that acting like that is the best way to end up out of power, right? Sure, she is below us in social standing, but last time I checked, there are more of the common people than us. If you treat them all like dirt on your boot you'll only end up having to fight your way through life. Not to say that's not doable, as it obviously is, but why bother? If you don't give them any reason to hate you, they're not going to pay as close attention to you. Lack of scrutiny means you will have a much easier way getting what you want." Harry was looking at Draco like he had suddenly become one of the brutes the boy had arrived with for all of the brains he was using. It was a very obvious course of action, history showed what happened to those who held themselves so far above the common people they didn't notice the unrest until they were overrun.

For once in his young life, Draco didn't know how to respond. Harry had made points that had never occurred to the blonde before. Living as the dirt under someone's shoe tended to give perspective unavailable to people raised like Draco. Collecting his thoughts Draco turned back to the now slightly miffed wizard sat next to him. "So what you're saying is I should treat people like her as equals?" He asked Harry incredulously. The raven haired boy could only laugh, Draco honestly had no idea. Well, if I had been raised with a silver spoon that far up my ass I'd probably be confused as well.

"She's not your equal Draco, no reason to pretend. I only mean you should be polite. Not friendly or kind, just civil. If you don't give them a reason to hate you it becomes so much easier in the long run. Imagine trying to get something passed in the Wizingamot, something not terribly popular but you have good reasoning. If people resent you for breathing they won't even bother listening to what you have to say." Harry huffed, quite frustrated that he even had to explain this in the first place.

"But I'm a Malfoy, no one would go against what I have to say, my name has power." As he spoke, Draco became more confident in what he was saying. Malfoys are never wrong after all. Except, apparently, when confronted with a Potter.

"Yes but do you think Granger and all her Muggleborn friends are going to care? What happens when you piss one of them off at school? Will the teachers, aside from your godfather, take your side on the sole reasoning that you're a Malfoy and thusly always correct? I really doubt that. If you are nothing but polite to them they can't pin you when you actually do something. It's common sense Malfoy." Harry held eye contact with the other boy until he was convinces that his point was being absorbed. Just as he was about to look away the blonde began to smirk.

"You know Potter, for a Ravenclaw wannabe, you think suspiciously like a Slytherin." The tension in the room broke with the blonde's jab at Harry. "Maybe there's hope for you yet." Still smiling Draco looked out the window only to jump up as he noticed the time of day. "We'd better get out robes on, we should be there soon."

The rest of the train ride was spent chatting about the rest of the teachers, though after the third time Draco started a sentence with "my father says" he stopped putting much stock in the Malfoy's opinion on teachers. For some reason Lucius didn't seem like the type of man Harry wanted to associate with, there was hope yet for his son. Keeping the knowledge that most of Draco's opinions were just regurgitated from Lucius in mind, he just shrugged when Draco made a comment on the other resident 'half breed' at Hogwarts. He would help the boy think for himself by the end of the year if it was the only thing he did. It was honestly a bit sad how few opinions Draco presented without the tag of "my father says" hanging off of it.

The castle was breathtaking. The awe Harry had experienced at Diagon Alley and Kings Cross was nothing on the feeling he got crossing the lake to the school. It was something out of a children's fantasy book, it hardly seemed real. They were met at the other side of the lake by a stern looking woman that Harry pegged as McGonagall before she even had time to introduce herself. The ghosts had been a bit of a shock. Reading about something is very different from seeing them in person. Draco didn't seem fazed at all. Harry mentioned this to Draco and he just shrugged and said "The Manor has ghosts." Like that was the most normal thing in the world. Apparently it wasn't too strange as the blonde was definitely not the only first year left unfazed by the ghosts. Waiting for the sorting was probably the most stressful part of the entire evening.

Draco stumbled into Harry as they made their way to wait by the door, having been knocked into from behind. "Oi! Watch where you're going Malfoy." The name was said like a curse and Harry could only guess who could have such disdain towards the blonde. The Malfoys had a good number of blood feuds, this boy could belong to a number of families. The question was quickly answered when Draco responded to the tall freckled boy. But not before shooting Harry a significant look. "Ah, a Weasley, what a pleasant surprise. Now I really would hate to cause a scene, so why don't we end this before it really starts, yes? Good." The blonde's tone was scathingly polite, not exactly what Harry had meant, but he was happy enough that the blonde had heeded his words at all. The tactic even worked, much to Harry's amusement. The redhead's face was quickly beginning to rival his hair.

"Now listen here you Death Eater spawn I don't know what you're trying to pull here but I won't take it!" The Weasley boy had roughly grabbed Draco's shoulder, pulling the blonde back facing the now very indignant Weasley. Draco opened his mouth to give, what would most definitely have been a scathing reply, only to be stopped by a significant look from harry, who was gesturing wildly to the approaching figure of Professor McGonagall. His mouth closed with a click, his retort dying on his tongue. He did manage to pull himself out of the other boys grasp before the imposing woman made her way over to them.

"Now what in Merlin's name is going on here? The year hasn't even begun yet and I have students fighting." The Transfiguration Professor looked down on the boys, her ire apparent in her face. Before she could continue a blonde girl in pigtails approached the fuming teacher.

"I saw the whole thing ma'am." The small girl glared daggers at Ron as she spoke. Harry was honestly not believing his luck. If this went as he thought it was about to the blonde boy would have to concede that Harry was right.

McGonagall peered down at the girl with a measuring look before gesturing for the blonde to continue. "It happened like this professor. The Weasley boy tripped on the stairs and ran into Malfoy. Weasley then yelled at Malfoy to watch where he was going to which Malfoy replied that he didn't want to cause a scene and that Weasley should just drop it before turning back to his friend there." She gestured to Harry. "I think Weasley was hoping for a fight because he then grabbed Malfoy and, well, you saw the rest."

McGonagall thanked the girl, whose name turned out to be Hannah Abbot, before turning back to the boys. "Well, firstly, Mr. Malfoy, thank you for attempting to keep the peace. Once you are sorted you'll find yourself as the first student this year to earn points." Draco looked to be preening at the thought. "Mr. Weasley also gets to be the first at something this year. It has been nearly two decades since I have had to give out a detention before the feast even begins, you get to be the fifth person in my time as a teacher here, Mr. Weasley, so have this honor." The exasperated professor left the redheaded boy spluttering as she turned to lead the students into the Great Hall. "If you are all ready? We will get you sorted now."

Draco made his way back to Harry's side as they lined up to go through the heavy stone door in front of them. "You know Potter, I didn't think that would work…" He gave the raven haired boy a look before sighing audibly. "Alright Potter, now I don't say this often so listen up. You were right. My way of handling that situation would have ended with joint detention with the Weasel." The mere thought had the blonde scrunching up his face in disgust. Harry just laughed.

"That would have been unfortunate, yes." Harry's laugh soon caught Draco and it was with mirth filled hearts that the two boys entered the Great Hall. With all the gaping he had been doing recently Harry was starting to worry his jaw would fall off. The great hall was alight with hundreds of floating candles. Behind them the clear night sky stood without obstruction, almost as if there was no roof at all.

"The ceiling is charmed you know," Harry heard a familiar voice say, "I read about it in Hogwarts a History" Hoping to maybe mend the damage Draco's words did earlier he maneuvered through the crowd of students until he was stood next to her.

"Have you read the founder's memoir? They were the ones so place the charm there, it's magic so powerful it's still there after over a thousand years." The girl's wary glare turned to excitement as she listened to him. Apparently a common interest was all it took for her to get over his relation to Draco in the girl's eyes, as she didn't even blink before responding.

"Where did you even find that? I didn't see it at Flourish and Blotts, and I spent hours in there." Draco snorted causing the girl to whip around and glare at him. "Something funny Malfoy?" The previously teary eyed girl was nowhere to be found, instead stood a witch that had a glare so harsh Draco actually took a step back at her inquiry.

"Ummm, not much Mu-Granger, just that you and Potter seem to have a similar disposition towards books." The look he threw at Harry seemed to scream 'this civil enough for you?'. Granger just huffed and turned back to Harry before pausing and turning back to Draco.

"What did you just call him?" She gestured to Harry with her hands, for the moment forgetting who she was speaking to and forgoing the glare.

"His name, Granger, Potter. Yes that Potter. No reason to get all excited, he's just your average wannabe Ravenclaw like yourself." The blonde rolled his eyes as the girl ignored him and began to babble to Potter about all the history books he was mentioned in, which of course Harry was aware of already, but he took her excitement in stride.

Their conversation was soon ended by the sorting hat's loud song, if you really must call it music. To Harry it more resembled the off key screeches of his aunt in the shower. After the singing McGonagall started calling up names alphabetically. The blonde girl Hannah Abbot that had defended Draco went to Hufflepuff, followed by a Susan Bones. Harry made a note to get to know her if only for the fact that their families had a blood alliance. By the time it was Granger's turn there was one new Ravenclaw and two Slytherins. The hat sat atop the girls bushy head for a good bit longer than any of the others before shouting out "GRYFFINDOR". Harry heard Draco muttering under his breath at this but didn't bother trying to understand. The boy who had lost his toad on the train Longbottom, was sorted into Gryffindor and left the stool with the hat still on his head in his excitement. Draco was next, it was absolutely no surprise for anyone when the hat barely grazed the blonde's head before shouting "SLYTHERIN". Another boy, Nott, soon joined Draco in slytherin as well as a girl Pansy Parkinson.

As soon as McGonagall called his name the Hall was filled with chatter. He caught broken conversations as he made his way up to that stool.

"Harry Potter?"

"He's so small"

"I heard he's been living-"

"That's Harry Potter?"

"How come no one saw him on the-"

Harry was relieved when he finally made it to the stool. He knew he would be the center of attention, but this was a bit much. He was a little panicked to have the hat cover his eyes, he disliked being unable to see while everyone was most definitely staring at him.

A voice inside his head cut off his musings.

Harry Potter, I've been waiting for you. Now let's have a look around hmmmmm? Oh, quite impressive Occlumency you have going here, not often you see such a display in one so young. And from what I can tell you have no Idea exactly what you've done. Definitely intelligent then.

How are you in my head?

Curious too, with a healthy love of books. Ravenclaw would suit you well- but wait, what do we have here? You may be a little too action oriented for Ravenclaw. You don't want the information just to have it, you use it to your advantage, you're very correct in thinking knowledge is power, Mr. Potter. You'd scare those poor bookworms off with the goals you have in mind, that kind of ambition is very "SLYTHERIN!"

As opposed to every other student before him, no one clapped as he got off the stool. Not at first anyway. As he made his way over to the Slytherin table Draco stood and began to clap, a smile on his face as he looked to Harry's now green and silver tie.