Author's note: Hi there. The following is an idea that I've had (along with the rest of the Harry Potter fandom, I know…) for years now. Basically, when Harry meets both Draco and Ron, he's very young, he's just been thrown into a world of magic and he's very open to persuasion. I am of the opinion that, given the opportunity to talk to Draco more, he would have been influenced by him instead and Draco would probably have been Harry's best friend instead of Ron. Harry would have been sorted into Slytherin because the sorting hat felt that best, and without Ron's (and Hagrid's) biases against it, he wouldn't have protested.

Anyways, this is basically what would have happened in that case. Starting in Madam Malkins that fateful day. Any actual dialogue from the book is kept the same, but as many events change entirely, there aren't many direct lifts.

Enjoy and let me know what you think. I did this because I couldn't find any good ones on my own. =) So please tell me if you like. I do plan to keep going all the way through the books, or until I get tired of writing this shit. lol

By the way, it's 3:17 in the morning and I'm tired. I apologise if there are any spelling errors in this. I've gone through it about 10 times now, but it's getting exceedingly difficult to type and even more difficult to think. So just hit me up if anything pops out and bites you.

All it Takes

"No one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

Harry shifted his weight nervously. "Mmm," he said, wishing he could say something just a bit more interesting. He must sound terribly bland, but with his limited knowledge of the Wizarding World, there wasn't much else he could come up with, other than revealing his ignorance to the pale blonde; somehow he felt that he was better off faking it.

"Well," the boy continued, not slowing down for a second, "Father's told me all about the sorting ceremony of course. He said they put this filthy old hat on your head, and then it digs around in your brain to figure out where you should go. It all depends on your personality, you see. Slytherin, for example, only accepts students who are ambitious, determined and resourceful. So even if my family weren't all in Slytherin, there's no doubt in my mind that that's where I'd be." He smirked in a self-satisfied fashion, as if this proclamation was deserving of some sort of reward.

Harry, however, felt as though his mind was swimming. So these houses, they were sort of like teams then? "I'm sorry," he started, deciding he'd rather get straight information than pretend he knew what the boy was talking about, "but how many houses are there again? You mentioned Slytherin and one other, are there more?"

The boy gawked slightly. "You don't know?" he asked incredulously. His gaze turned suddenly steely, grey eyes flashing dangerously as he narrowed his eyebrows. "You do come from a wizarding family, don't you?"

"Er," Harry began, wilting a bit under the harsh glare he was receiving, "I think so, I mean – my parents were both wizards, if that's what you mean, but they died when I was a baby. I've been living with muggles my whole life, that's why I don't know anything about Hogwarts… I didn't even know I was a wizard until just last night."

"Really? That's bizarre…" It was almost comical how quickly the glare faded from the boy's face. "I'm terribly sorry," he continued, sounding anything but, although Harry supposed it was better than the over-indulgent sympathy he had received from every other wizard or witch he had met thus far. "That's tragic, about your parents, but you didn't have any other relatives you could have stayed with? Someone, you know, of our kind…?"

Harry shook his head. "I guess not. Would have made my life that much easier, I imagine, if I had."

"That's just awful… Must have been terrible, living with them." Harry was about to say something – yes, it had been awful, but all muggles weren't really that bad – but the boy just kept going, "No need to worry now, though, is there? You're with your own kind and I'll personally explain to you the ins and outs of our world so you won't feel excluded." Harry's heart swelled slightly. Had he just made his first ever friend…? "My name's Malfoy, by the way, Draco Malfoy." He extended his hand and Harry shook it without a second thought.

"Harry Potter," he replied, not at all shocked, by this point, when Draco's eyes widened and his grip tightened exponentially on his hand.

"Really…?" he exclaimed, still holding on to Harry's hand, "Well, I suppose that makes perfect sense then, what you told me before." Realising what he was doing, he finally released his grip and smiled slightly, although it looked to Harry more like a smirk. "I suppose you'll know by now that you're famous, then?"

"Yeah," he laughed slightly, "yeah, I think I noticed that."

Draco chuckled and opened his mouth to say something, but at that exact moment Madam Malkin patted Harry's arm and said, "That's you done, my dear." Harry muttered his thanks and hopped down from the stool. When he had his robes all packaged up and paid for, he followed Draco out of the store.

"Say," Draco started, "why don't you come with us to look at racing brooms? I imagine you've never seen one before, living with the muggles and all. I could even explain how Quidditch works. I know you'd love it. Best sport in the world, Quidditch is."

Harry lit up at once. "Really?" he asked, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically. Draco was right, he had never seen a racing broom before, nor had he seen any kind of flying broom, really, at least not apart from the Halloween movies he'd sometimes sneak into the living room and watch when the Dursleys were away. "I'd love to! But, I haven't got all my supplies yet, I suppose I should get those first." Harry had a sudden start as he remembered Hagrid. "Which reminds me…"

"Hey there Harry! Got yer school robes already, did yeh?" Draco jumped about a foot into the air when he caught sight of Hagrid walking towards them in great lumbering strides. He looked like he had just seen a ghost and one with a particularly gruesome visage at that. "Flourish and Blotts is right nex' door, we can get yer books there," Hagrid said, voice booming across the street, causing several people to stop and stare. Draco seemed extremely uncomfortable.

"Oh," Harry stumbled, feeling quite awkward himself. "Er, Hagrid, this is Draco Malfoy. Draco, Hagrid is the gamekeeper at Hogwarts. He's been showing me around Diagon Alley." He felt proud, for a moment, to know something about Hogwarts that his new friend didn't, but the looks on both his companion's faces quickly erased any happiness he might have felt. Hagrid finally noticed Draco and regarded him with a rather forced smile, sort of the way his Aunt Petunia smiled when Vernon's sister Marge came to visit with her disgusting bulldogs; Draco, on the other hand, had a look on his face like he had just stepped in a fresh pile of droppings. Harry looked back and forth between the two, wondering what he had just done in introducing them.

"Hello there," Hagrid said finally, with obviously forced politeness, "friend of Harry's are yeh?"

Draco smiled, or rather grimaced; as he replied in the drawling voice Harry had heard him first speak in, "Yes… We just met and we were about to go purchase the rest of his supplies before we looked at racing brooms…"

" – That is," Harry cut in quickly, seeing the surprised hurt in Hagrid's beady black eyes, "if that's alright with you, Hagrid. I just thought…"

"Oh no," Hagrid said loudly, again startling several passerby, "that's jus' fine, Harry. Best you be socializin' with kids yer own age than hanging around with an old fart like me…"

Harry felt like screaming. "Hagrid, you're not a-"

"I'll not be hearin' it!" he interrupted, "you two get on now. Have fun, Harry, and don't be getting' up to nothin' funny, yeh hear?" He was smiling as he said it, but Harry couldn't help but notice the slight look Hagrid gave Draco as he turned and walked away. "Oh," he said suddenly, turning back around to face them, "when you're done, Harry, meet me back in The Leaky Cauldron. I've still got to get you back to them Dursleys before the night's up." Then, with one final smile and a wave, he disappeared around the corner. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, again wondering just what had happened.

Behind him, Draco scoffed, drawing Harry out of his reverie. "What a strange man," he drawled, "I think I've heard of him. Heard he's some sort of savage who lives on the grounds and gets drunk more often than not. Guess it's true then."

Harry finally gave in and sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Look," he started, carefully keeping his voice even, as he didn't want to offend his only friend thus far, something that seemed exceedingly easy to do. "It's obvious you two don't particularly like each other, but I think Hagrid's brilliant and I'm extremely grateful for everything he's done for me. He took me away from the Dursleys – that is, the muggles I live with – so let's just not talk about it, yeah?"

Draco looked slightly stunned for a moment before he seemed to give it a real thought. "I suppose…" he began, "that I can see where you're coming from. I mean, if I were in your situation, I guess I'd be grateful too, no matter who it was." Harry sighed in relief, glad to be free from the threat of confrontation. "Anyways," he continued, "I'll agree to forget about it. We should get your stuff anyways, if we want to have time to swing by Quality Quidditch Supplies. There's Flourish and Blotts there," he pointed next door to a small, somewhat crooked building with large windows. "You can get your school books and we can meet up with Father. He'll be absolutely thrilled to meet you, you know."

Flourish and Blotts was about as crooked on the inside as it looked on the out. Bookshelves were stacked as high as the ceiling with the kind of rolling ladders one might find in an old library, stairs lead up to an even more crooked looking second floor and Harry was surprised the books didn't simply fall off their shelves from all the odd angles. Immediately upon entering, Draco made his way to the front counter, closely followed by Harry who instantly recognized the man paying for a somewhat large stack of books as his friend's father. He had long platinum hair, which was tied back by a black ribbon and a very sharp and elegant appearance that was only enhanced by his silver and black walking stick. When he turned around, Harry could see Draco's steel-grey eyes peering down at him from his father's face. Harry couldn't help gulping slightly under that intense gaze; this was a man who could easily intimidate Uncle Vernon without lifting a finger. Suddenly Draco Malfoy made perfect sense.

The man smiled at last and shifted his gaze to his son. "Draco. I see you've gotten your robes. Was everything in order?"

"Yes, Father. What about my books? Have you gotten it all?"

Mr. Malfoy held up a pewter cauldron containing the books he had just purchased. "I have indeed," he said, pulling out a small green book with a gold winged ball on the cover. He held it up for his son to see, "including that Quidditch book you mentioned this morning." Draco's eyes widened and a large grin broke out on his face.

"Yes!" he exclaimed and snatched the book from Mr. Malfoy, thumbing through it greedily. His father tutted loudly.

"Don't you think you're being rude, Draco? You haven't even introduced me to your friend yet. The book can wait."

Draco looked at Harry somewhat sheepishly for a moment before he seemed to regain his composure. He handed the book back to his father who placed it among its fellows in the cauldron. "Father," Draco started, sounding very important, "this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is my father."

Harry was really starting to get used to the kind of look Mr. Malfoy gave him, the widened eyes, a quick glance to his forehead, a whispered proclamation of shock; Mr. Malfoy did, however, recover much quicker than most, molding his face back into a pleasant, if not slightly haughty smile. "Lucius Malfoy, Mr. Potter," he extended his hand in offering and Harry took it, marveling at the tight grip with which his hand was shook. "It is… a pleasure to meet you. Any friend of Draco's is a friend of mine, of course. I assume you'll be starting Hogwarts as well?"

"Yes sir, I'm actually here to purchase my books."

"Excellent. There is a display there," he said, motioning to a large table in the very center of the store laden with several stacks of books, "which has all of the necessities. Draco, I'm sure you can help Mr. Potter select what he needs."

Draco nodded and turned to Harry. "You do have money, don't you? I mean, our money?"

Harry was about to answer when Mr. Malfoy scoffed. "Draco," he said, scolding his son seemingly, "why would Mr. Potter be without money?" He raised his eyebrow and gazed from Draco to Harry and back again. "I'm sure his… guardian gave him enough to purchase his supplies, didn't they Harry?"

Once again, Draco cut him off before he could open his mouth. "That's just it, Father. He lives with muggles. That…" he glanced briefly at Harry before continuing, "man… Hagrid, I believe, was escorting him before we met. I only want to be sure he has enough."

Mr. Malfoy seemed astonished and slightly horrified. "Good Heavens… Muggles? I expected you'd be raised with our kind. They did tell you all about your family though, I imagine? Your story?" When Harry shook his head, Mr. Malfoy continued, aghast, "Anything about our world?"

"Not a thing."

"My word…" Lucius Malfoy looked as though he needed to sit down. "Well I certainly am glad you met Draco here. He can fill you in properly on the way our world works. Wouldn't want you being mislead by that oaf, Hagrid or any filthy mudbloods or blood traitors. If you don't have any money, I would, of course, be only too happy to purchase your school equipment, perhaps set up a trust fund for you…"

"Oh, no sir," Harry cut in, trying to get Mr. Malfoy to stop talking more than anything else. Draco was tolerable, but his father really was a bit overdone and the comment about Hagrid had gotten under his skin. "My parents left me a good deal of money. I really don't need anything, but thank you for the offer. I appreciate your generosity."

Mr. Malfoy nodded, obviously pleased that Harry wasn't poor, and Draco led him over to the display to select his schoolbooks.

After Flourish and Blotts, they made several stops to buy Harry's cauldron (pewter, although Harry and Draco both agreed the solid gold cauldron would have been better – Lucius Malfoy, however, disagreed. Thus, pewter it was.) They also purchased a nice set of scales, a collapsible brass telescope (Draco's suggestion) and his potions ingredients. Their next stop was Eeylop's Owl Emporium. As Draco pointed out, you were allowed one animal at Hogwarts, and Harry, who had never even had a pet in the house, other than Aunt Marge's ugly dogs, hastily agreed that it was an offer too good to pass up. Eeylop's was dark and smelled of all manner of animal feces, but it was worth it to walk out with a large snowy owl in a cage. He would have to go through his books later to find a decent wizarding name for her.

Finally, all that was left was his wand. They met up with Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother, outside Ollivander's and after a quick introduction (in which Mr. Malfoy was sure to inform her of Harry's "situation" with the Dursleys – to save Harry the trouble, of course) they entered the store. Mr. Ollivander went through about ten wands, before he finally found one suitable for Harry, and suitable it was indeed. His whole arm seemed to come alive as he held it, a warm tingling sensation shooting through his veins as red and gold sparks shot out the end of the wand. "Oh, bravo!" Ollivander exclaimed, "Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… How curious, how very curious…"

"Sorry," Harry said as Ollivander wrapped his wand in brown paper and placed it in a thin box, "but what's curious?"

Mr. Ollivander solemnly explained that the phoenix whose tail feather resided in Harry's wand had a twin – another feather that made up Voldemort's wand, the wand that gave him his scar. "Yes, thirteen and a half inches," he continued sternly, but with a strange twinkle in his eye, "Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great." Harry was aware that all eyes in the room were fixed on him. He shivered and took his box, sliding it into his jeans pocket. He paid seven galleons for the wand then stepped outside, relieved to feel the fresh air after the stuffy shop.

After a moment of silence, Draco spoke up. "Can we go look at racing brooms now, Father? Mother?"

Mr. Malfoy began to agree, but his wife cut him off before he could open his mouth. "Absolutely not," she stated simply. "We have one more stop to make before I allow you to run off to do as you please, and let me just say now – you will not be buying a broomstick today. You have one at home to practice with and first years are not permitted them at Hogwarts so you have no need to buy a new one." Draco withered beside him and there was no doubt in Harry's mind as to who really ran the Malfoy household. He wished his Aunt Petunia could have been more like this woman. Maybe then Dudley wouldn't be such a pile of useless flesh. "Harry dear," Mrs. Malfoy began again, turning her attention to him, "we're off to Twilfitt and tatting's to get you some new clothes. No offense to you dear, but I don't know what those muggles were thinking when they dressed you."

Harry blushed slightly. "Actually, these were Dudley's old clothes, that is to say, they gave them to me when he grew out of them, so no offense taken."

Narcissa put a hand to her mouth, whether in shock or nausea, he couldn't be sure. "My goodness…" she whispered incredulously, "I must insist on purchasing you a new wardrobe. I'm paying, no excuses."

Harry opened and closed his mouth before finally settling on a simple 'thank you.' "You really don't have to, though…"

"Nonsense."

A couple of hours later found Harry laden down with several overflowing bags of crisp new clothing, all hand picked by Mrs. Malfoy and tailored to fit by the eager young sales clerk, Pierre, if Harry remembered correctly. Draco had also procured a few new dress shirts and a pair of shiny black tuxedo shoes as compensation for being made to wait for the two of them. After Twilfitt and Tatting's, Narcissa had finally relented and allowed them to go look at racing brooms on the one condition that Draco not come back with anything bigger than a new snitch. As they examined the Nimbus Two – Thousand, the fastest racing broom yet, Draco explained the rules of Quidditch to Harry, and although it was far too much information to process at once; what with all the different kinds of balls, the flying and the point – winning, Harry was beginning to get a vague picture of how the game worked.

Currently, the two of them were sitting outside Florian Fortesque's ice cream parlour, licking at their double scoop cones. Draco was explaining the Hogwarts houses.

"There's four of them total," he said, sweeping his tongue around the edge of his cone to prevent the liquefied mint chocolate – chip from dripping onto his hand, "Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Like I said before, you're sorted based on your personality. Slytherin accepts people with cunning, ambition and determination. Ravenclaw is where all of the really smart kids go, you know, the brainiacs. Gryffindor is all about bravery, but if you ask me, that's just another word for stupidity, looking before you leap, you know."

"So then, what's Hufflepuff?" Harry asked, already knowing which house he preferred the most.

Draco snorted. "Who knows what a Hufflepuff is. Honestly, it's like the reject cesspool of Hogwarts, from what Father's told me. It's where all the losers go, the ones that don't fit anywhere else. Like I said before, I'd flat leave if I were sorted into Hufflepuff."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, I suppose you're right." He licked at his ice cream. Raspberry and chocolate with chopped nuts; it was the first time he had had ice cream in years, the last time was shortly after Dudley's seventh birthday. Harry had sneaked into the kitchen while the Dursleys were out and stolen a scoop or two from the freezer. Of course, Dudley had remembered precisely how much ice cream was in the carton and checked it immediately upon returning. Harry had been locked in his cupboard for two days without food.

"So," Draco drawled, looking at Harry, "I would assume you'll want to be in Slyherin then?"

"Mmm," he mumbled around a mouthful of chocolate – raspberry, "I suppose so. I guess Gryffindor wouldn't be too bad either. I know I'm not smart enough for Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff…" he trailed off and he and Draco looked at each other briefly before both boys burst into a fit of laughter. It really did feel good to laugh with a friend, Harry thought as he watched Draco attempt to save his scoop of ice cream from falling off his cone. He was finally unsuccessful and Harry laughed even harder at the look of disgust on his face.

"I was done with it anyways," he scoffed, but eventually he just had to give in and laugh along with Harry.

Draco's parents arrived at the ice cream parlour several minutes later and informed Draco that they would be leaving shortly, as it was getting dark.

"You can get home on your own then?" Mrs. Malfoy asked as he got up to throw away his now raspberry flavoured napkins. "You know you're more than welcome to stay with us at The Manour if you'd like…"

"Oh no, thank you. I mean, I'd love to, but I'm meeting Hagrid in The Leaky Cauldron and then I've got to go back to the Dursleys. Thank you so much for everything though, Mrs. Malfoy, you too, Mr. Malfoy. You've helped me so much. It was a pleasure meeting you both."

"Don't mention it, Harry," Narcissa said brusquely before pulling him into a brief hug. "I hate to see you go back to those muggles, though. I tell you what, why don't we come pick you up when it comes time to leave for Hogwarts? I wouldn't trust those people to get you to the right station, let alone the platform."

"I- " Harry stuttered, "I… That would be great, thank you!"

Narcissa smiled. "Just promise me you'll be wearing some decent clothing. You're a fine looking boy, Harry, you deserve to be dressed well."

"Of course, thank you…"

Lucius shook his hand briefly, upon writing down his address on a thin piece of parchment with a quill that wrote all on it's own, "A pleasure meeting you Mr. Potter," he stated once again, "Remember, it is illegal for a minor perform magic outside of school, but your muggles don't have to know that. A threatening flick of the wand should put them in their places well enough."

Harry grinned. "Thanks," he said, "I'll remember that."

"I guess I'll see you soon then?" Draco asked.

"Yeah. Thanks again for everything. I mean it."

"Oh please," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "It's fine. It was like charity work." He gave Harry a gentle push to the shoulder to let him know he was joking. Harry grinned.

"We'll see you September first then," Mrs. Malfoy said, smiling, "stay well until then."

"I will. See you all soon!" And he turned and made his way through the gathering dusk and dwindling crowd back to The Leaky Cauldron, feeling happier than he ever remembered feeling.