Diagon Alley
Harry stood on the platform at Madame Malkins, entranced by his trip down memory lane. He forgot how funny Dudley's pigtail was. And how strong did Hagrid have to be to bend the rifle that way?
"Potter."
Harry shook his head, glancing over to his right. Draco Malfoy stood stalk still, only turning slightly to face the brown-haired boy, a smug look pinching his face. The-boy-who-lived scanned the room, checking for spies and eavesdroppers.
"Malfoy," Harry said, biting back any snarky response that may have popped into mind. He averted his gaze toward the mirror. "Have you considered what Time and Fate had to say?"
Draco eyed Harry, one eyebrow quirked. "Which part? That we need to fix things, or that we must become friends?"
Harry's eyes rolled. "Both."
Malfoy yawned, feigning boredom. "I suppose." He held out his hand. "Will you accept my hand this time?"
Harry smirked. "I guess. Will you be less of a prat this time?"
"That's a lot of words. Didn't know you had that many in you," Draco said as Madame Malkin walked in.
"Hogwarts, dear?" She asked Harry. He nodded. "Well, then, we'll have to get you fitted. Let's just take off your shirt so we can get an accurate measure." She yanked his overgrown shirt over his head.
Draco glanced over, about to continue, when his mouth dropped. Pale lines adorned almost every inch of the savior of the wizarding world. A big purple bruise continued to swell on the right side of his abdomen, and a pale green bruise covered his left sternum. Why did Potter have welts? How could the Golden Boy be covered in scars? Did old battle wounds come back with you when you travel in time? Draco subtly glanced at his left arm. It was pale, so unlikely past bodily markings followed them to this timeline.
The blond waited, remaining silent, until the madame left to get several reams of cloth.
"So, Potter, how did you come across all those?" Draco asked, pointing to a group of several fresh cuts.
Harry paused and shifted nervously. "Nothing. Nowhere."
Draco smirked. "Seriously? Bruises just magically appear on the skin of the boy-who-lived?"
Harry's eyes flashed. "I hate that name."
"Fine, scarhead, I won't call you that again. My question still stands."
The brown haired boy reddened. "Just shut up, okay? It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me," Draco said, arms crossed.
"Why do you care?"
"Because I'm human. Not even the dark lord would allow that type of damage to be done to a child."
"I'm not a child," Harry said, sneering.
Draco rolled his eyes. "Maybe not now, but are you going to tell me that those weren't there the last time you were here?"
Harry sighed, averting his eyes to the floor. "Fine, if you must know: it's…my uncle."
The blond quirked a brow. "Your uncle? I thought you were the last of the Potter line. How do you have an uncle?"
"My mom's sister, doofus. She married, hence an uncle."
"Hey," Draco held up his hands, "no need to get nasty. I'm just clarifying." He sighed. "What'd your uncle do?"
Harry shrugged. "He just…gets a little frustrated sometimes." Harry quickly looked up at the ceiling. "He doesn't know how to deal with it. He can't help it. Usually, it's my fault anyway, so it's nothing."
Draco gaped. Could the savior of the wizarding world not be as pampered as he originally thought?
"Potter, I don't care if you killed a man," the blond paused. "Well, I mean, you did, but that was a good thing." He shook his head. "Beside the point. I don't care if you kick puppies for fun or destroy half your house on a regular basis. No one deserves to be beaten."
Harry stared at the floor. "It's not a big deal. Just forget about it."
Before Draco could continue, the seamstress returned with several freshly made robes. She handed them to the blond, turning to Harry to finish some alterations.
Draco jumped off the pedestal, hand extended again.
"Well, Harry, it's been lovely getting to know you. I can't wait to see you at King's Cross." He smiled brightly. "You know what? We should write over the summer. Yes, that's a great idea. Wouldn't want any burgeoning friendship fizzling out with the lack of communication." He smirked at Harry's gaping mouth. "What's your address?"
"Number Four, Privet Dr, Surrey," Harry said, eyes wide.
"Great, I'll owl you. We can catch up on quite a few things. I'm sure you're next to hopeless on the ways of the wizarding world." The blond paused, eyes narrowing. "And you'll tell me whenever your uncle gets…frustrated."
Harry shook his head, opening his mouth to come up with some excuse to get out of it.
"'Arry."
The boys looked out the window to find Hagrid looming over the sill, a birdcage in hand. "Happy birthday, 'Arry," the giant said, smiling brilliantly.
Draco's eyes sparkled mischievously. "Well, I guess that's my cue to go."
"Malfoy, wait…"
"I'll hear from you soon," Draco said as he walked away, refusing to hear any of Potter's blabbering about owls and muggle neighborhoods.
When Draco got home, the first thing he did was run up to his room to compose a letter to Harry. He wasn't sure what he should say, so he had to throw the parchment out a couple times. Eventually, he came up with something he was willing to send to his new…friend.
Harry,
How are you? I hope you are doing well. I am fine, but thought I would owl you right away so I did not forget (and you wouldn't conveniently forget). I was wondering, what exactly happened this year? It would be nice to know, you know. If we could get on the same parchment, that would be helpful.
Hope you are enjoying your summer,
Draco
Draco sneered. It was stilted, and a lot more formal than he would ever want to be with a friend...had he ever sent Crabbe or Goyle a letter like this? They probably wouldn't have even read it. The blond shook his head, attaching it to his owl. This would have to do.
Harry's reply came quickly. The next evening, Draco saw a brilliant snowy owl flutter into his window, perching on his desk. He smiled, handing her a few owl treats before taking the missive from her.
Draco,
Yes, it probably is a good idea we get on the same…parchment. I am fine, thank you. I may not respond as quickly as I did today. Uncle gets frustrated when his meals are late or the house isn't clean.
So, what you need to know about this year: Hagrid already snagged the Philosopher's Stone as he helped me grab the money I would need.
After you didn't show up for our duel (thanks for that, by the way), Ron, Hermione, and I had to dodge Filch and Mrs. Norris. That's when we met Fluffy. Now, I know what you're thinking: who's Fluffy? Sounds like a nice, cuddly familiar, right? Wrong. Fluffy's a Monstrous Cerberus. He's probably not as big as I remember him being. I mean, I was eleven, but he was huge. Imagine running from Filch to that.
Anyway, Fluffy guarded a trapdoor that led to the Philosopher's Stone. Throughout the year, we tried to solve the three-headed puzzle that was Fluffy and the trapdoor, when we finally figured out that someone was going after it, and we needed to stop them.
There were five obstacles we had to pass through to get through to make it to the stone. The first was Devil's Snare, which Hermione got through easily. The second was a set of winged keys that I had to grab with the help of a trusty broom. The third, well, let's just hope you can play chess, because Ron got us through the transfigured chessboard obstacle. Fourth was a troll that was already unconscious. Fifth was a logic puzzle and potion created by Professor Snape.
I don't like to talk about what happened after that. Let's just say, Quirrell died, I got the stone, and Voldemort left in spectral form.
So, yeah. That's all that happened. I really should get going now, get ready for bed and all that.
Talk to you soon,
Harry
Draco stopped, thought for a moment, and then started writing. Soon, he sent Hedwig off and watched happily as she flapped her wings, the sun setting in front of her. He sat back and thought about the coming year. Maybe, just maybe, Harry would be a good friend to have. He went to bed, smirking, thinking about how just a few weeks ago, that thought would have seemed ludicrous.
The next evening, Harry received a reply to his last letter. He had to keep from smirking as he read it. Yes, this definitely seemed a strange turn of events, befriending Draco.
Dear Scarhead,
Who the heck names a Cerberus Fluffy? It's like naming your pet dragon Lizard.
Dumbledore was very conspicuous, sending Hagrid with a curious eleven-year-old to collect a dangerous and confidential artifact. The giant can't keep a secret to save his life, and what would have happened if someone had attacked him while you two were out and about. Beside that, isn't is the deputy headmistress's job to deal with muggleborn/raised students? Why was Hagrid tasked with taking you in the first place?
Well, I guess the stone was pretty important if Dumbledork decided to hide it behind a three-headed dog and a troll. But, you all made it through, so it couldn't have been that hard. They should have come up with a few more puzzles for Quirrell to solve, if they really wanted to protect it. Better yet, why not just hide it somewhere other than a school full of children? I don't think he thought that through completely.
What should your uncle care if you are writing letters to a friend? How does that keep dinner from being made or the house being clean? He doesn't make you do them, does he? Merlin, Potter, if he does make you work like a house-elf, I am going to come down there myself and…and…I don't know what I'll do, but it will be just as cruel and unusual as treating a young wizard as a slave.
Have you thought on whether anyone else has their memories, or are we the only two?
Anyway, awaiting your reply,
Draco
Harry had to laugh. Maybe Malfoy would be a good friend. He had to grimace, though, as he looked at the heading. Was that the game he wanted to play? Harry smirked. Well, it was a game two could play. He started his reply.
Ferret,
Don't be too hard on Dumbledore. He has to make tough decisions, and he was just trying to do his best.
Harry paused, putting down his pen. It was strange, though, that the headmaster felt the need to keep the stone at the school. Weren't there other ways to protect it that didn't include endangering student lives? And there was the fact that Dumbledore refused to tell him about his scar, though he did have a reason.
Harry shook his head. He had told Draco Dumbledore was doing his best, and he had to believe that was true. He picked up the pen.
The headmaster has his own way of doing things. I try not to think about it too much, but I'm sure he has good reasons for what he does why he does.
In answer to your question concerning Fluffy, who thought it was a good idea to introduce us to a hippogriff third year? Hagrid's not the best or brightest when it comes to kids, but he sure does love his animals.
And the whole thing with the deputy headmistress? Maybe McGonagall was busy that day, or maybe Dumbledore saw it as poetic justice, since Hagrid was the one to bring me to Privet Drive. I don't know, but it was perfectly fine and nothing went wrong...except maybe for the fact that he forgot to tell me how to get onto the Platform. No worries, though, the Weasleys helped me out (oh, yeah, Ron. Uck, I forgot I would have to deal with him. Do you possibly know when he turned over to Voldemort? I want to know when I can't trust him anymore).
Yes, my uncle makes me do chores. Yes, I live like a bloody house-elf. I even have my own little cupboard under the stairs for my bedroom. Yes, it's a disgrace to me as a wizard. Whatever. You can be mad about it, just don't do anything stupid like come and rescue me in a flying car. Tried it, do not want to do it again.
Eagerly awaiting your reply.
Draco sighed as he read Harry's letter. The Gryffindor was too trusting for his own good. He should have been sorted into Hufflepuff. There was something off about Dumbledorf, and he was going to prove it to the boy-who-lived.
The blond shook his head, grabbing a quill and parchment.
Harry,
I can't believe you're okay with being a slave to your uncle. Don't worry, I won't save you in a flying car (whatever that is), but don't believe for one second I won't do everything in my power to get you out of there.
As to the Weasley problem, I didn't know until the day of the battle he'd turned. I'd say, keep your distance in general (not that it should be a big issue. Doubt he'll want to stick around with me). Even if Weasley wasn't actively against you the whole time, it was obvious to everyone and their brother that he was just using you to gain attention.
What were the Weasleys doing on the muggle side of the barrier anyway that day? They should have apparated, especially with that many children. What were they trying to do, cause a scene? It's not like six redheads with various owls and rats would be inconspicuous...
And so the summer went. Harry and Draco continued to write letters to one another. Harry usually let Draco know in some fashion if Uncle Vernon was "frustrated" or not and Draco would try to tell some funny story about his current conversations with Crabbe and Goyle (his father was still forcing the idiots down his throat. The blond wondered what would happen to the two dunces once he started hanging out with a muggleborn). The fact he could come up with as many funny stories as he did, spoke to the lack of brain capacity the two shared.
In the end, the boys talked mostly about preparing for Hogwarts. Harry was not leaving anything to chance, and Draco was happy to comply. They refused to make any concrete plans without checking for other "survivors", but creating basic strategies was Draco's wheelhouse.
Harry smiled as he sent out the last owl before summer ended. Yes, things were definitely going to change.
