Ch. 01

"Diagon Alley"

July 31, 1991

One month before school opened, Diagon Alley was the busiest shopping area in all of the Wizarding world. Witches and wizards scurried about with their kids in tow, parchment clutched in their hands with the supplies needed printed on them. Children had their noses pressed against the glass at the Quidditch supply store, staring in awe at the brooms while bags of books, potion supplies and cauldrons lay forgotten at their feet.

In Madam Malkin's robe shop, two kids stood in front of the mirrors, their new school robes measured to fit. Each one had an assistant who hemmed and pinned the robes to the right length.

"Say, Draco, does this robe make me look fat?"

The boy sighed as he studied from the corner of one gray eye the girl next to him. He sneered slightly as he watched her primp for the mirror, a regular ball of energy. She couldn't stand still. It was her only charm. She was, quite frankly, a rather plain and unattractive girl. She had long chestnut brown hair that was prone to oiliness. By the mid-afternoon her hair was limp, hanging from her ponytail in greasy strings. Her body was scrawny with long, thin, knobby arms and legs and her face was dominated by her hooked nose and sharp black eyes. Her cruel mouth had a scar from the left corner up her cheek, giving the illusion that she was always smirking.

Her only redeeming feature was her sharp wit and cunning mind. She was strong and had the personality of a fighter. Born weak, she should have died as a child. She should have died at the age of one when she was caught in a horrible Deatheater attack that gave her the scar. However, she thrived and grew powerful. She defeated the odds, and he found himself admiring her for that, if nothing else.

The boy was her opposite. Handsome, even at that young age, with pale blond hair and sharp gray eyes. He carried himself with the quiet poise of his good breeding. He had been born strong and often found himself protecting her. She was the daughter of his mother's friend, and he thought of her as his sister. His rather plain and weak sister.

"You look fine, Silas. Now stop moving or you'll get stuck with a pin."

"No I – ow!"

The boy, Draco Malfoy, laughed. He and Silas were preparing for their first year at Hogwarts with his parents. At this moment, his father was haggling the price of his hazelwood wand, not thinking it was worth the galleons he paid.

"I warned you," Draco said.

Silas stuck out her tongue. She stood still, not wanting to get poked again. She didn't even turn when the door opened, but she didn't miss the figure that appeared behind her in the mirror.

"Hey, first year at Hogwarts?" Silas called, seeing a mop of unruly black hair duck shyly behind her shoulder. She tried to lean back and got a glimpse of sad green eyes and a pale sunken face. She turned and saw the boy more clearly. He was short and skinny, nearly swallowed by his baggy clothes. This boy, Silas decided, was a Mudblood, born of non-magical perants who inherited his powers by some miracle.

"Yes, hello," the boy said, tugging nervously at his shirt hem. Silas frowned as she noticed one ugly bruise peaking out from underneath his oversized shirt. She shook off her concern. He was a Mudblood and not worthy of her notice.

"Do you know which House you'll be in," she asked. She didn't know if it was to be polite, or show this boy how deep he was now in.

"No, I don't. Sorry," the boy said.

"I'm pretty sure I know which House we'll be in," Draco declared happily, his gray eyes on the stranger in the mirror. "Slytherin is the best House in all of Hogwarts."

Silas jumped down from in front of her mirror as the seamstress finished. She motioned for the boy to take her place. He did, moving slowly and shyly, as if he expected one of them to bite him or something.

"What House were your parents in?" Silas asked.

"They were our kind, right? Witches and wizards?" Draco inquired.

The boy nodded as he was measured by the seamstress. "I was told that they were in Gryffindor."

Silas quirked one dark eyebrow at this. "You were told your parents were in Gryffindor?"

The boy nodded. "My parents are dead. I was told they were in Gryffindor when I was handed my letter."

There was a slight uncomfortable silence as Draco and Silas looked at each other. Something about this boy wasn't adding up. He looked like a Mudblood, but he said his parents were wizards. He was told about his parents when he was handed his letter? Something wasn't right.

After a bit, Draco finally said, "So, think you'll try out for your House Quidditch team? Granted, First Years aren't even allowed brooms, but I think I might try to sneak one in."

"Quidditch?"

Draco twisted to look at the boy, wincing when he was jabbed with a pin. "Yes, don't you know anything?"

"Draco! Be nice," warned Silas. "I grew up in the Wizarding world, and I barely know a thing about Quidditch."

"That's because you'd rather spend your time with my mother, playing dress up and having tea parties," scoffed Draco. Silas stuck her tongue out at him.

The boy looked even more embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I just – I never knew – I'm sorry."

Silas shook her head. "Don't mind Draco. For all his good breeding, he forgets his manners."

"You're one to talk, Silas. Just because tomorrow's your birthday, you think you're so much more mature then I am. You're only older by a month."

The boy perked up slightly. "Today is my birthday."

"Is it?" Silas drawled. "Congratulations. Oh! Where are my manners. Draco, see what you've done! We never introduced ourselves."

"Don't blame me," Draco said. "That's your fault."

Silas ignored him, giving the boy a bright smile. "I'm Silas Snape and my friend there is Draco Malfoy."

"Pleased to meet you," the boy said. "My name is Harry -"

He was cut off by Draco's digusted exclaim, "What is that?" He was looking at the window.

The 'that' in question was a large, hairy man standing at the window, ice creams in either hand pressed messily against the glass. When he saw the boy – Harry – he waved merrily, causin bits of the ice cream to splatter his bushy beard.

"That's Hagrid, the Groundskeeper for Hogwarts," Harry said, pride filling his voice.

Silas huffed. "Oh, I know about him. My father is a professor at Hogwarts. I remember one year, Father brought me to the school for Christmas. Hagrid has a reputation for sneaking dangerous animals in his house and I wanted to know if it was true. I was in the hospital for a week after his new three-headed puppy dragged me across the lawn like a chew toy."

"Bit of an oaf, really," said Draco. "He was kicked out of Hogwarts and his wand was snapped. The story was covered up, but you don't get that kind of punishment for nothing. Only murder or something like that. And, my father says he gets drunk regularly and burns down his cottage."

"Really, Draco, that's an exaggeration," Silas said. "The cottage is still standing."

Harry shifted uncomfortably, his green eyes darting between Silas and Hagrid. She could see the small war waging in the boy's mind. This poor Mudblood would need some guidance and she felt up to a charity case.

"How do you know Hagrid, Harry," Silas asked. "Was he friends with your parents?"

Harry nodded. "He said he was. He came to take me shopping since there was no way my relatives would. My uncle hates all things magical."

"It's a surprise they're letting you go to Hogwarts then," said Draco. "Did they think it was just a private school?"

Harry shook his head. "No. They knew what it was. My aunt remembered when my mum got her letter. At first, they tore the letters up, but they kept coming; through the mail slot, down the chimney, hidden in every day objects. Hundreds of them until my uncle forced us to hide. That was when Hagrid came to get me."

Silas's dark eyes narrowed. "Hundreds of letters?"

"Yeah. It was amazing. We coudln't figure out why anyone would want to talk to me that badly. I never even knew that my parents were magical until last night."

"I see," said Silas slowly. "Listen, Harry, if you don't have plans, do try to lunch with us. I'm sure Uncle Lucius and Aunt Cissa would love to meet you. And we can fill you in on the wizarding world. We'll be at the Leaky Cauldron in two hours."

Harry nodded and hopped off the stand. Draco gave a disgrunted growl as he was still stuck there, the seamstress tugging on his robes to make them fall just right.

"I promise to try and make it," said Harry happily. Silas watched as he left the shop and Hagrid swooped down and led him away. She did not miss the friendly wave Harry gave over his shoulder or the suspicious look Hagrid threw their way.

"Silas, why did you invite him to lunch?" Draco demanded as he was finally freed from the seamstress.

Silas grabbed her friend and dragged him outside. "Because I think he's special," she said.

"He's a Mudblood, Silas."

"His parents were magical."

Draco sighed. "Fine, a Half-Blood at best. But you heard him! He had no knowledge of the wizarding world until last night. He might as well have been a Squib."

"Draco, I'm only going to explain this once. He got a hundred letters. They just kept coming and were forced on to him. Dumbledore really wants him to attend the school and wouldn't take 'no' for an answer."

"So?"

"So, if a person refuses a Hogwarts letter, normal protocol states that they don't go. It's not mandatory. There are some wizards and witches who refuse their magical inheritance. However, the price is high. I overheard Father talking the other day about a boy in a Muggle orphanage who just refused his Hogwarts letter. Since we can't have untrained witches and wizards walking about, possibly doing wandless magic and harming Muggles, a special group from the Ministry had to be disbatched and his magic drained from him."

"That's horrible!" Draco shuddered. "They can do that?"

"Yes. But this boy was pestered into joining. Dumbledore sent Hagrid to make sure he'd come. Think about that, Draco, he's special."

Draco frowned. "So, what makes him so special when that other boy you heard about was drained?"

"His name is Harry," Silas said. "Maybe, he's Harry Potter?"

Draco thought over this as they left to meet up with his parents. Silas informed them of her impromptu invintation while Narcissa fixed her hair. His parents accepted this, agreeing that it was their duty to help the new wizards adjust to their world.

Lunch at the Leaky Cauldron was not up to the usual standards of the Malfoy family, but since it was Silas's birthday the next day and she had promised Harry, that was where they ate.

"Of course you like it," scoffed Draco. "You're poor. You have no taste."

Silas kicked him under the table. "Keep that up, and I'll see to it that Father fails you."

"A Malfoy doesn't fail," Lucius stated. "It is not in our vocabulary."

"However," said Narcissa, "seeing as how dear Severus is the Potions Master, I do suggest staying on Silas's good side, Draco. Or he might slip something in your food to turn you into a frog."

"Oh, there he is," Silas said suddenly, pointing to the small boy and the giant entering the pub. She waved, motioning for Harry to join them.

The dark-haired boy walked over, a shy apologetic smile on his face. "I'm sorry, but Hagrid wants me to stay with him during lunch."

Draco frowned. "Too bad. How can we tell you all about Quidditch and Hogwarts if you can't join us?"

"How about just until your food arrives," asked Narcissa.

Harry shook his head. "I'm sorry. Hagrid insisted. I just wanted to tell you in person."

"My, how polite," said Lucius. "Draco, you can learn a bit from this young man." Draco snarled.

"Oh, here, Harry. You can have these," Silas said as she dug through her bag. She presented him with two books; Quidditch Through the Ages and Hogwarts: A History.

Harry took the books, cradling them to his chest as if they were the most precious things in the world. "Thank you, Silas. I'll see you two at Hogwarts."

"One moment, young man," Lucius said. "Before you leave, how about telling us your name?"

"Oh, right. I'm sorry. It's Harry. Harry Potter."