1. Nobody
I'm Nobody. Who are you?
Are you Nobody, too?
The children all stood up proper, backs straight, shirts tucked, shoes clean, hands clasped behind their backs. They'd spent the morning cleaning themselves and their areas making sure not a speck of dust was to be seen. Now they stood, all smiling faces and shiny teeth wearing their "Sunday's Best". Ten girls all dressed in skirts and sweaters seven boys all in slacks and collared shirts, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the adults who came every two weeks to see them and hopefully take them away.
The usual low buzz of conversation thrummed through the room carrying the expected notes of anticipation. They were all so excited, they'd waited two weeks for this; this day that they might get lucky and be taken away never to returned, this day that if they were lucky they would finally gain a place to call home and someone to call mom and dad. They spent nights dreaming of the outcome of this day and mornings fantasizing the same thing. One girl wanted a beautiful mother who would buy her dolls, cook for her, and take her to the park. Another girl wanted a mother and father who would read her a bedtime story and tuck her in every night. One boy wanted a dad that would play football with him and take him fishing. Another boy just wanted to go find a quiet place to read.
A hush fell over the gathered children as the large oak doors opened and in walked Ms. Tanner, the woman in charge of the orphanage, followed by a group of adults looking to be parents. This group of parents was large compared to other weeks with five happy couples and the occasional single person or two. Ms. Tanner smiled when she saw how neatly her wards had gathered. "Children, what do you say?"
"Good afternoon and thank you for coming." The children chorused with face-splitting smiles in place, the girls all curtsied and the boys bowed, one boy stood off to the side trying to go unnoticed. Some of the adults returned the greetings, others smiled and waved. Ms. Tanner smiled her approval at the children, she had taught them well. Soon she released the want-to-be parents onto the children and the kids stood their ground inwardly praying that one of the adults would come and ask to spend the day with them. The moment the adults moved towards the children, one little boy slipped away to find a quiet place to read.
He hated these days that the other children all loved so much. Mostly because he knew that none of the adults would want him, partly because he didn't care. Silently he slipped out of the room and padded down the hall towards what would most likely be the only quiet place he'd find this day, none of the children ever brought the adults to the library and if they did they would never find the isolated corner in which he was heading. None of the other kids were small enough, or lacked the agility, to reach his little hideout, a raised shelf like place that had once been a display area about five and a half feet off the floor that required careful maneuvering both the reach and to stay poised on. The spot could only be seen if looked at from a certain angle and it allowed him the privacy to read all he liked.
He only ever read one book. Well not exactly true, he read tons of books he loved to read: fantasies, mysteries, sci-fi, romance; you name it he had probably read it. But there was only one book he would read repeatedly over and over again, cover to cover; he practically had it memorized, and yet he continued to read it. It was a small book with a red cover made of cloth and a broken spine, the pages were yellowed from age and crumpled and worn from constant turning; some of the pages weren't even connected to the book anymore, but stuffed inside for safe keeping. The words on the page were hand written in black ink and an elegant script, they were beginning to fade a bit but he could still make out most of them.
The boy sat on his narrow perch gently turning the pages of his most prized possession, his lips moving in silent words that none could hear. He immediately lost himself in words on the pages to the point that the outside world ceased to exist. He didn't hear the rhythmic steps of hard soled shoes against hard wood flooring or the clack of the cane that thumped against the floor with them. He didn't see the tall man with the platinum blond hair who stood on under the shelf in just the right place to watch him there. And if he did sense the hard grey eyes watching him, he paid it no mind for he didn't care about anything but the words on the page before him.
Then there's a pair of us—don't tell
They'll banish us you know
"Harry you had better not be up there!" a shrill voice called, causing the boy to jump in surprise and lose both hold of his book and his balance on the shelf. The red cloth covered book slipped from his fingers and fell the five and a half feet to the floor, and Harry could feel his body following it. His eyes squeezed shut as he wanted to avoid seeing his inevitable union with the floor. "Harry!" Ms. Tanner yelled rushing across the floor as she witnessed the boy falling, oblivious to the man who was standing beneath the shelf who'd at the moment reached into his pocket. To her shock just before Harry was about to slam into the hard wood floor he seemed almost to float for a moment before falling the last few inches and landed curled almost into a little ball.
"Interesting."
"Harry, how many times have I told you not to climb up there?" Ms. Tanner demanded covering the last of the distance between her and the small boy. "Are you ok? You could have seriously hurt yourself!"
Green eyes that seemed as if they shouldn't exist outside of a story book blinked open and Harry hesitantly pushed himself up, surprised to find that he was relatively unharmed, just a bit spooked and on an adrenaline high. He smiled sheepishly as Ms. Tanner kneeled and began fussing over him. "Harry I swear I don't know how you do it," the woman said upon seeing Harry without injury. "Any other kid would be badly hurt and bawling their eyes out, yet you sit here without a scratch on you and not making a sound." A light blush coated Harry's cheeks as Ms. Tanner petted his wild ebony colored hair. "I guess I should be used to it by now, you and your miracles." She smiled at her young ward.
"Excuse me, madam," a cool voice drawled; Harry looked up and found a man he hadn't noticed was there at first staring down at him. "Does the boy pull off… miracles like this often."
Ms. Tanner looked over the man that must have been part of the group here to see the children, he emitted and an air of poise that said he most likely come from money, any of the children in her care would be honored to be adopted by a man of such prestige, any child but Harry that is. She smiled at him. "Unfortunately yes," she said, before turning to her ward. "Harry run off and play with the other children while I talk to Mister- um."
"Malfoy," the man offered.
"Pleasure to meet you Mr. Malfoy; Harry run along," Ms. Tanner repeated.
The black haired boy got to his feet, gathered his fallen book and the pages scattered across the floor, before strolling towards the door of the library, only to duck behind the shelves when he knew Ms. Tanner wasn't looking. They were about to talk about him, of that he was sure, and he was going to stick around to see what they had to say.
"What's the boy's story?" The man, Malfoy, wanted to know.
"Oh surely you're not interested in adopting him," Ms. Tanner said. "There's plenty of other children here, why Bobby-"
"I didn't ask about Bobby," Mr. Malfoy cut her off. "I was inquiring into the story of the boy Harry."
How dreary to be somebody
How public like a frog
Ms. Tanner sighed. "You really don't want to adopt Harry; he's such a strange child. His uncle brought him here about a year ago when he was only five and since that time he's only proven to be even stranger. Don't get me wrong, he's a good child, sweet, and smart for his age, reading books well beyond his level. But he's practically a mute; I've barely heard him speak two sentences since he got here and as I said that was a year ago. He's a bit of an introvert, always isolating himself. At first he tried to play nice with the other kids but they all pushed him away because, well because the strangest things happen around him. Like just now, he should have been gravely injured falling from the shelf like that, but he's perfectly fine. He's weird.
"He used to fight with the other boys, well actually they used to bully him a bit- harmless fun I assure you-, but then something must have happened that the kids won't tell me about because the main boy that used to tease him acts as if he's scared for his life. And then there's that book. You saw the little red one he just had, he brought it with him when he uncle dropped him off, he doesn't let anyone touch it; freaks out if it's out of his sight for more than five minutes. I worry for him sometimes; he keeps so much bottled up inside. Once he completely trashed the boy's dorm room when he lost his temper. Swears it wasn't him, but who else could have? I moved him to his own room after that. He's really a lot of trouble, you should really look at some of the other boys if you're looking to adopt, or maybe one of the girls. Cindy is-"
"I would like to speak with Harry for a moment, alone if you please."
"Uh, well… he's probably in his room. I could show you where-"
"No need, young Potter never left the library; isn't that right Harry?"
To tell your name the live long day
Harry stepped out from his hiding place, wondering how the man had known he was there or, more importantly, how he'd known his surname since Ms. Tanner had only ever referred to him as Harry the entire conversation.
"No need to worry, Potter," Mr. Malfoy assured, "I mean you no harm. A moment alone please Ms. Tanner."
"Right," Ms. Tanner said. "I had better go check on the other kids and parents."
Ms. Tanner left the library and the moment the door closed behind her, Mr. Malfoy reached into his pocket and pulled out a long slender piece of wood, waved it around and mumbled some words Harry couldn't understand. A burst of light escaped the tip of the wood- that Harry realized must have been a wand like in his storybooks- and hit the door. "Now no one can interrupt us," the older gentleman said.
Harry's impossible green eyes widened in shock wondering what he had just witnessed.
A grin-like smirk spread across the blond's lips. "You've never met another wizard have you, Harry?" He asked, though his voice said he already knew the answer. "I'm sure you didn't even know of your own wizarding heritage, did you? You're scared of the strange things you can do. You don't understand why you're so different. Other people fear you. None of them will ever accept you. You don't belong here, Harry."
"I suppose you think I belong with you." Harry's voice was low and a bit scratchy from his seldom use of it.
"I think you belong among your own kind, not here with these Muggles. I have a son," Mr. Malfoy said changing the subject. "He's about your age and is in need of a playmate. Your raw magic will only be a hindrance to you here, and you will only be unhappy. Come with me and keep my Draco company. That's all I ask of you. It will benefit you more than me, and I do say you and Draco both are in dire need of a friend."
To an admiring bog.
~Emily Dickenson
