AN: This first chapter is a slightly modified version of the scene in the books, later chapters will differ more greatly from the books

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

Harry stood at the entrance to Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, his stomach felt as though it had been turned upside-down. He took a deep breath and stepped into the shop, as soon as he did a squat, smiling witch hurried towards him.

'Hogwarts, dear?' she said when Harry started to speak. 'Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.'

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madame Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head and began to pin it to the right length.

'Hullo,' said the boy, 'Hogwarts too?'

'Yes,' said Harry.

'My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands', said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. 'Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first-years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow.'

Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.

'Have you got your own broom?' the boy went on.

'Not yet,' said Harry.

'Play Quidditch at all?'

'Not much,' Harry said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

'I do – father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?'

'Yes,' said Harry, just to seem like he knew something about Hogwarts.

'Well, what house will you be in?' the boy pushed.

'Why should I tell you?' said Harry, hoping the boy would change the subject.

'Well I know I'll be in Slytherin, all my family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave wouldn't you?'

'Uh Huh,' Harry hummed, cursing his bravado.

'I say, look at that man!' said the boy suddenly, nodding towards the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice-creams to show he couldn't come in.

'That's Hagrid,' said Harry, pleased to know something the boy didn't. 'He works at Hogwarts.'

'Oh,' said the boy, I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?'

'He's the gamekeeper,' said Harry. He was liking the boy less and less every second.

'Yes, exactly. I heard he's sort of savage – lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed,'

'Well I think he's brilliant,' said Harry coldly.

'Do you?' said the boy, with a slight sneer. 'Why is he with you? Where are your parents?'

'Not in Diagon Alley,' said Harry shortly. He didn't feel much like discussing his parents with this boy.

An awkward silence fell between them.

'Your parents are our kind, aren't they?'

'They're a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean.'

'I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get their letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname anyway?'

But before Harry could think of an answer, Madame Malkin said, 'That's you done, my dear,' and Harry, happy for an excuse to escape this awkward conversation with the boy, hopped down from the footstool.

'Well I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,' said the drawling boy.

Harry lost himself in thought as he ate his ice-cream.

'Hagrid, what's Quidditch?' he asked, 'The boy in the store mentioned it,'