A/N: Anything in bold with asterisks is something straight from the book. All credit goes to the author J.K. Rowling. I in no way profit from this. Going into this chapter, I do want to say that I have always believed that Slytherin's as a whole were opportunists and should they see things change they would try to position themselves as favorably as possible. That being said, I also saw them as being vindictive. One should almost always expect retribution should a Slytherin feel slighted. That is why my depiction of Draco Malfoy seems a bit 'friendlier' than some would think. It's because he is able see that things are changing if not only has the Dark Lord returned, but Harry-bloody-Potter has left Gryffindor and joined Slytherin is anything to go by. I was always of the thought that Draco should have been a lot smarter and a lot more cunning, considering his family, their pedigree, and his upbringing. I believe that the movies gave him no justice, and the books didn't do a good job of fleshing him out. As I said, there will be no slash, but you will see a more assertive and intelligent Draco, along with his entire family. A Draco you can actually respect. I have to say that I will probably follow suit with other characters we only get tid bits of information such as Pansy and Blaise, etc. Other than that, enjoy. As always, please Read and Review.


Chapter 3. Change is in the air.

The monotonous tap of heels following a specific rhythm over the tick of a grandfather clock broke the otherwise bleak silence. The individual subscribing to the action found his mind wandering to the worst of conclusions as he pondered the situation at hand, all the while pacing up and down his study, hands clasped behind his back as he tried to find a way to break the news he had to his otherwise ill-tempered associate. His grey eyes viewed the distorted image of himself through the reflection of the immaculately polished marble above the fireplace that was skillfully molded into the mantle.

He admonished himself for having not weighed this task out before fleetingly accepting it from Severus. He could not allow himself and his honor to be viewed ignominiously. Yet he found himself shying away from the task if only to avoid the possible repercussions. He could never fathom what the Dark Lord would find pleasing, menial, or outrageous…Perhaps it was his pursuit of immortality that seemed to addle the once handsome man's mind, but through it all Lucius could not deny that Voldemort was uniquely intelligent and powerful, a true genius in and around magic, regardless …he was exceptionally quick to anger.

This news normally would be something to watch casually, perhaps elucidate the need of the action, maybe even wax poetic on the degradation and overall waning grasp of the old ways. It wouldn't hold much stock amongst the individuals he associated with were it any other individual…no it had to be him, the one individual that the Dark Lord loathed beyond any other. The one individual that he quite literally created a new body for himself just to be able to kill him personally. Blasted Harry Potter. He had been a point of contention in the wizarding world since his sudden and rather unbelievable claim to fame, and even during his absence, he continued to curry that fame. There was once a point that he had wanted to perhaps ingratiate himself to the boy wonder, but upon meeting him and seeing him first hand, he hadn't thought the boy special in the least, yet he was the one that defeated the Dark Lord during infancy. So despite his appearance and despite his lingering distaste after Potter had lost him a house elf, he let the thought of revenge go and surmised that he had to be powerful, right, perhaps Potter just didn't know it yet? The years since his son had entered Hogwarts were a wash with news updates from the Malfoy heir. One thing for certain was that Harry Potter had a penchant for breaking rules, perhaps a paternal trait.

But still it wasn't anything too amazing that was until the Triwizard Tournament. Lucius noticed the boy then, the boy and his muted ingenuity. After each task he would ponder his cunning and his prowess. It was rough of course, but he possessed enough craftiness to make it through tests of mind, body, knowledge and skill that many people older than him would have failed to survive.

It wasn't until the end of the tournament, there in the graveyard, he witnessed something he couldn't understand, but felt. As Voldemort toyed with his quarry, he felt a strange stir in the magic around him. He didn't know if anyone else felt it, but surmised that the Dark Lord had felt it as well if the sudden questioning movement of what should have been eyebrows was made and vanished almost just as quick, so quick that Lucius almost missed it. That instance was met with a massive dispersal of air and sheer power that brought them to the ground, yet Voldemort was hurled backwards as Harry and his deceased accomplice vanished in a vein of power that felt achingly familiar, yet diluted by something, all the while bathed in another unknown. This unknown, fearsome and frightening in its lingering weight.

The Dark Lords face told him that he too had thoughts that were perhaps similar to his own…What just happened and what does this mean?

Since then not much news came from Hogwarts. His son said that Potter seemed to get quieter, remaining alone and otherwise unseen and that he, his mudblood friend, and the blood traitor were rarely seen together. Maybe Granger and Weasley, but almost never Potter. If he was honest, he hadn't much cared. He had though that if something magical had happened, Harry Potter would have already exposed himself. But all was quiet, until Severus barged in to his study, summoning him back to his office as he told him what happened.

Potter a Slytherin. He was genuinely surprised by what Severus had explained, but successfully maintained his aloof expression. Unfortunately he hadn't thought before he spoke, simply because he had thought that by taking the request, he would provide the Dark Lord with it and curry his favor by taking the credit. Fittingly he had also forgotten how much Voldemort loathed the boy and how often he found the cruciatus to be a fitting punishment for just about anything.

Finally finding the resolve he walked to his chair, grabbed his cloak and put it on before summoning the green flames of the floo saying the destination and vanishing into the fire.

A few moments later, the green flames roared to life on the other end as he stepped forward will all the poise and confidence of a Malfoy. Walking through the derelict mansion that was Riddle Manor, he couldn't help but to wrinkle his nose for the briefest moments. It seemed the Dark Lords house elves were very busy if the place still looked like that. Though as he continued, he was surprised by what he found, the manor was being renovated, although it looked like piece by piece as it seemed the north end of the home was completely rejuvenated. Pictures of magical places and of scenes of battle ran through the long hallway. Here and there pictures of the various members of the bloodline of Salazar Slytherin were mounted, obviously an homage to his ancestors.

Finally coming to the door to his masters massive faux throne room and meeting area of the Dark Lords

follower's, he rose his hand to knock but was stopped by a voice…

"Enter Lucius, I know you are there."

Lucius's arm dropped to his side before he opened the door and stepped in shutting it behind him. As he entered he maintained a calm poise and crossed the room before standing in front of Voldemort, quickly dropping down to a knee and bowing his head, waiting to be addressed.

"You may rise." The dark lord said.

"Thank you my lord."

"What brings you to me Lucius while I have not summoned you?" The Dark Lord asked.

"My lord, I bring news. News that I believe you would find important." Lucius said as his eyes moved upward before locking on to Voldemort's gaze. They burned red, as red as he could imagine the depths of hell were. His eyes were bathed in knowing hate and dark desires. They were powerful to look at and invariably consuming. His sickly pale skin only espoused their animalistic and monstrous perception.

Tapping his sharp claw like nails, he spoke. "Then speak Lucius, I do not want my time wasted."

Nodding, Lucius regaled him with the strange news and even stranger consequences they had all the while bracing himself for the torment every death eater knew was a possibility. As he finished he looked to his lord, bathed in deep black, surrounded by a throne that glistened with emeralds and housed images of carved snakes devouring their prey. His jaws were clenched tight as his eyes were pointed to the draped window. His nails strummed on the wooden arm rest, before his head slowly turned to Lucius. He looked at his servant, his eyes surveying him before he spoke, a slight pressure erupting from him, the power of an arch-mage making itself known as Lucius sensed it.

For a second Lucius was unsure what was happening before he felt a presence in his head, and a second later a searing pain as he realized the Dark Lord was searching through his memories. Quickly he dropped his occlumency shields to diminish the pain. Lucius almost dropped to his knees before he suddenly felt the invasion disappear.

"You've had this information for a few days, Lucius." Voldemort said, his face impassive though his voice, low, angry, and frightening. "I've always been one to prefer news to be told immediately, especially news including Potter." By now his voice was sharp, it held blades on its tip, dangerous in the true meaning of the word. Voldemort slowly stood, his cloak billowing around him momentarily as his hands dropped to his side. Lucius braced himself, though he was glad he hadn't banked on being pardoned. He blinked extending it for a while before opening his eyes. He was startled at what he saw, his heart pausing for a moment, the dark lords face was no more than a third of a meter before him, wand in hand making him step back with slightly widened eyes.

"Generally Malfoy, I would punish my servants for lying to me, and yes by omission counts, but luckily your faux pas has not caused harm to my plans. The breakout was a success, and today, I find myself being somewhat generous." He paused, his eyes had been roaming the room before they snapped back to Lucius own eyes, locking them as he cast two silent spells, one a silencio and the other a variant of the petrificus totalus charm that forced the casters target to be petrified just like the charm it had been molded from, unlike the other, it forced the target to remain standing, yet somehow allowing the target to feel the full pressure of his or her weight. It had been created as a simple means of torture that could be covered up should someone be investigated because the magic used would appear as the petrificus totalus. It was used on any prisoner that had managed to break any bones in their legs, that included intentional breaks, and force them to remain standing on the broken appendage for any amount of time. A barbaric remnant of a distant past, though effective, especially for those trying to avoid scrutiny. "But I will not tolerate that again." He all but hissed it, his eyes burning with deep displeasure, before he stepped back and went to his chair, releasing Lucius from the spells.

"Forgive me my lor-"

"Spare me Lucius. You will do nothing but observe the boy. For all we know this may be an elaborate ruse formulated by the old man."

"Yes my Lord." Lucius replied.

"You are dismissed." He said with a gesture.

Lucius gladly obeyed, bowing once more before quickly exiting the room. He made a quick dash through the home before coming to the fire he had entered through quickly tossing in the floo powder, muttering his destination and vanishing in the green flames just like before. Stepping out, he quickly removed his cloak and thought. He had escaped punishment, but was now tasked on observing the boy-who-lived. He had no idea where he called home, and if he did what protection the headmaster had given to his golden boy.

"How?" He said aloud and to himself as he resumed the pacing, the monotonous tap of heels following a specific rhythm.


The raven haired youth had assumed this morning would be simple enough. Perhaps a slight deviation, if only to appease his fleetingly vanishing sense of nostalgia would be okay. The young old mind agreed; though that had been the catalyst of an unwanted and unforeseen mistake.

Plans were a necessity to maintaining order…He was very aware of that. The old minds wisdom continued to leak into the young as their new mind was forming and with that a semblance of logic that dictated his actions, and he found himself disappointed by his own divergence. He would have to return to Borgin and Burkes and ensure that no one could enter for the time being. It wouldn't do for some nosy individual to stumble upon what happened before he was able to rifle through the deceased's things. That being said, he was going to have to read up on more advanced locking spells and wards. That required time, and time required precision and planning. He resolved that today he would not diverge any further and stick to what he meant for himself to do. His fickle indulgence into past memories had already caused him to sway much too far out of his detailed days campaign.

He pulled the cloak further down on his head, deftly hiding the lightning bolt scar with his hair and hood. He was vaguely aware of the individuals around him, moving, hidden and obscured by the odd shadows that allowed them enough cover to keep their eyes down, avoiding direct eye contact just as he did. This place was seedy at best, and one misstep would have him exposed, and then he would have to fight. Though he was actually quite sure of his skill, theoretically, he wasn't quite sure of his implementation…he definitely needed to test, practice, and master.

Looking to his right as he broke free of the oddly dark locale that was Knockturn Alley, he moved back on to Diagon Alley as the sounds of life came back to him. All around him were the noises of adults and children, friends, a gaggle of school girls out and about for the summer, awed children enjoying the luster and magic of the alley, individuals engaging with each other, yet as he walked through the throng, he noticed that many were glued to the newspaper, some whispering as others seemed shell shocked. There were the faint voices of concern as he passed a group of individuals looking quite intently on the prophet.

Harry paused mid step, vaguely aware that he was being followed, call it spatial awareness, a sixth sense, whatever it was, he knew that someone or someone's were watching him. His hand instinctively dropped into the pocket of his cloak, his hand finding its way to the wands handle. Harry's gait had slowed drastically as he neared a stand selling the prophet. Taking one he dropped the necessary coin on the counter, the sales man nodding kindly before he turned away, his eyes momentarily scanning the area immediately behind him, looking for anything out of the norm. Spotting nothing he turned around and withdrew his hand as he pulled open the prophet.

*MASS BREAKOUT FROM AZKABAN

The Ministry of Magic announced late last night that there has been a mass breakout from Azkaban.

Speaking to reporters in his private office, Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic, confirmed that ten high-security prisoners escaped in the early hours of yesterday evening, and that he has already informed the Muggle Prime Minister of the dangerous nature of these individuals.

"We find ourselves, most unfortunately, in the same position we were two and a half years ago when the murderer Sirius Black escaped," said Fudge last night. "Nor do we think the two breakouts are unrelated. An escape of this magnitude suggests outside help, and we must remember that Black, as the first person ever to break out of Azkaban, would be ideally placed to help others follow in his footsteps. We think it likely that these individuals, who include Black's cousin, Bellatrix Lestrange, have rallied around Black as their leader. We are, however, doing all we can to round up the criminals and beg the magical community to remain alert and cautious. On no account should any of these individuals be approached.*

Harry's eyes narrowed speculatively…This was some kind of farce. He could see through Fudges fear, the oaf's incompetence. He could see the message that his inglorious lips trembled to say, the fact that he hid behind a story that was more than two years old 'Sirius Black' he thought to himself, scoffing all the while as he looked up momentarily to make sure his path was clear, he paused once more still getting the odd sensation of eyes on him, peering over his shoulder as unobtrusively as possible only to see nothing more than the activity of Diagon Alley per norm. His destination was clear as he surmised it was the most important of tasks.

As he made his way to Ollivander's, having come to the least desirable reality that the man was his only option should he want a decent wand, he pondered the newspaper. He knew it wasn't Sirius, the individual they intended to vilify. Lascivious, yes, whimsical, of course, stubborn, indeed, but culpable of a prison break? Not at all. The man was somewhere, but he knew that Sirius had no connections to his family, his mother had seen to that. Furthermore, Dumbledore would never allow the wizard to leave, if only out of fear that his assistance in aiding a fugitive would cast him in a less than favorable light. He was still dealing with the aftermath from the end of the Triwizard Tournament. The Auror's who had seen Sirius had been obliviated, but Amelia was less than pleased, only stymied by her respect for the Headmaster. The head of DMLE had promised the headmaster that they would have words, sooner than later. He did not doubt that the headmaster would remain vigilant in that secret though. It was unfortunate, but there was always the possibility that Harry's planning would have to undo that little string of secrets, should plan A not work. Harry saw through the lies and ill plot machinations of the Minister. Voldemort was the most obvious perpetrator. To admit it would admit his return. His return would see pressure on the untried minister whom took control after the war was over, and somewhat glorified because he happened to insert himself during a trying time. His own regime had yet to taste the ire of the wizarding populace. Though Harry had firsthand experience at how easily the world they lived in could be swayed…It only took the right whisper, a gentle prod and the whims of an individual could infect the world around them with whatever thoughts their breath carried.

But this had the potential to cause a problem. It was almost without doubt that Dumbledore would know who the true offender was. This would either force him to increase the amount of protection he afforded number 4 for Harry's sake, or remove Harry from the home altogether. "Shit..." Harry muttered, a momentary lapse in control as the offending word slipped through his lips, though silent enough to only be heard by himself. It was a situation he had not accounted for; and it could pose a massive problem. His mind was a lit with questions, he was formulating new ideas at a rate that even surprised him. Cause and effect, theories, solutions coming to mind as he attempted to mitigate his internal turmoil. It wasn't that he was afraid of the effects of his last plan, it was that he was less than pleased that what he had concocted needed to be changed on the fly, and uncertainty was something he could not afford moving forward. He had to be resolute and equally certain, in himself and in his schemes. That being said, he understood that one thing was glaringly clear, time was not his friend as his plans could remain intact, they simply had to be pushed forward, sped up…the only problem was that speed could create error and the margin of error he could afford was slim, virtually nonexistent. Error whether by himself or especially an outside source would not be tolerated.

The old and young minds thoughts aligned with more ease as the line that separated them grew fainter. His green eyes studied the paper as he walked towards the wand shop. Though, yet again, he was harassed by the increasingly insufferable sensation of being watched, unwanted eyes upon him; though this time he was positive that it was not just a feeling. He slowed his pace before indiscriminately stepping to the side behind a group of women, fawning over an infant in a basinet stroller. His brows furrowed as he slid along the wall, his cloak barely touching the exposed brick before ducking into the closest alley, all the while withdrawing his temporary wand, and tapping his own head, not realizing that he was performing silent spells as the sensation of someone cracking an egg on his head slid from his scalp and down the length of his body, as he vanished from sight, his form taking on the hue of the wall behind him as he crouched and stood as still as he could, hoping the telltale translucent shimmer was as unnoticeable as possible.

Harry's breath slowed as he pushed himself against the wall, wand in hand, his eyes scanning for anyone out of the norm only to fall on two hooded individuals walking as nonchalantly as possible, all the while trying to maintain an air of uncaring, their shadowed faces casually moving back and forth as they tried to gauge the location of their quarry.

The pair in question slowed down their pace, pausing lightly. "Where did he go?" One questioned as they cut through the throng of people, side stepping an offending wizard, whilst the other move around the same group of women who were still lavishing the child. The other, taller wizard or witch shrugged demurely…their unseen eyes scanning the crowd. The shorter individual pivoted on their heel as they pushed through the women, stepping out and in front the same alley Harry had claimed as his own. She was clearly unaware of the wizard in question crouched low, his muscles taught as the magic within him supplemented his strength and speed. The shorter individual turned to look into the alley, their eyes completely moving above Harry before they turned back to their companion.

"I don't see him." A clearly feminine voice said "How could he h-" She didn't have the chance to complete her sentence as the boy in question moved, taking advantage of her unprepared stance as his left arm curled around her neck and tightened, his wand drawn, he placed it just under her chin and drew her back into the relatively dark shadows of the alley. The other magical turned sharply as he followed his companion, knowing someone was there, pulling her back before the movement stopped. He drew his wand, but was stopped as the invisible individual spoke.

"I wouldn't do anything too rash, if the continued use of your friends head is of importance to you." His voice carried the distance between them, hollow yet malign enough for the hairs on the back of the other person's neck to stand on edge. He conceded as his hand withdrew from his pocket and dropped to his side. Harry though was vaguely aware of the pressure he was exerting on the other individuals neck before she began to gasp slightly, though he would admit he didn't care at all. The pair had done a terrible job at following him. But their lack of planning did not constitute an emergency for him, in fact their lack of planning was a benefit to him. His wand slowly began to emanate a faintly purple light, the magic coalescing at the tip, his unseen eyes shedding their pervasive green hue as the obligatory red burned in to existence spurred by his foul delight at the persons fear he could sense, their trembling body noting the wave of magical energy that swallowed her.

"Why were you following me?" He asked, his voice a faint whisper now, though carrying edge, slithering in the soft gusts of the mornings wind as its duality was noted by both magicals, the conscience desire to lash out, only reined in by his apparently massive will as the slowly heady feeling of a superior entity washed over them. They felt the significant hatred that escaped the individual, the same magic seeming to separate them from the rest of the alley. Here only this trio existed. The wizard across from him let out a slow breath as he felt as if a blanket had been thrown over them, a stagnating heat clutching at his lungs with each breath of the magically diluted air.

What was happening?

Harry though was completely unaware of the noxious effect his magic was having as the pair physically felt what they assumed to be his intent, lancing through them and subjugating them.

"D.." The girl whimpered as the other attempted to remain standing, his will forcing him to fight off the effect of whatever this was. "Draco…" She finally muttered, although a faint whisper her words were laced with fear, pushing the other wizard forward, spurred on by the innate reaction of a male to defend a female.

As she said his name, Harry heard as well, his eyes swiveling to her, vaguely remembering the voice before turning to the other figure. His young old mind claimed control from his subconscious as it wrestled to gain superiority of the ever expanding dark miasma that was his magic.

As it withdrew and the pressure subsided, Draco finally felt fully in control. The heady feeling vanished, giving clarity as he withdrew his hood, exposing his blonde almost white hair glistening in the waning light of the alley. "What the bloody hell was that." He muttered, his eyes wide as he stared at the prostrated form of his companion before he watched her shoved forward by an invisible force as she immediately gasped for precious air, coughing slightly all the while rubbing her neck. She turned slowly, dropping her own hood, her wand in hand now as she pointed it towards the invisible foe.

The boy in question silently murmured the cancelling spell as his body slowly became visible. He did the same as Draco, dropping his hood as he looked between the pair and finally at the tip of the wand that was pointed towards him. "Tell whoever she is to drop her wand." Harry said, his voice a mask of nothingness, no emotion found, though his eyes threatened to return to malevolent red.

"Pansy, stop" Draco acquiesced as he closed the gap between him and the girl, now standing by her side as his hand moved up to her arm and gently pushed it downward. The girl was angry, that much was obvious as she pushed against Draco's ministrations before allowing his strength to force her down. "What are you playing at Potter?" She finally huffed.

"I could say the same." He replied. "Following me wasn't such a good idea, was it Parkinson?" He rebuked.

"It wasn't her idea, it was mine." Draco replied, "I admit that perhaps we should have just approached you exposed, but who wouldn't be curious when they see the - boy - who lived himself exiting Borgin and Burkes, hooded and sneaking away. It did paint an interesting picture, wouldn't you agree?" Draco finished with a smirk.

Harry though eyed the pair before relenting. He admonished himself for being careless. He would have to be more vigilant in the future. If two children could trail him so simply, he could have been followed by any of Dumbledore's contacts just as easily. His eyes fell to the girl and back to Draco. "I suppose you are right." He replied.

Pansy puffed slowly before looking back to the ex-Gryffindor. "So then, what were you doing, Potter?" She asked. "You do owe me that much, after trying to choke me to death."

"I haven't the slightest idea how you can come to the conclusion that I owe you anything, Parkinson." He paused, his pupils contracting almost to a point, espousing the vibrant emerald of his eyes, now though perpetually flecked with discordant rays of red surrounding said pupil. "If anything, you owe me for allowing you to continue to breathe. You survived our encounter purely by my indecision and questioning. If Draco had not shown himself, or hesitated for a moment longer, you would have found yourself void of the lower half of your jaw." He finished, his voice clear and concise. There was no hint of humor or fear in his admission, and the poignant stare he afforded her only solidified his statement, making it more real and actually leaving Pansy with a sudden sense of unease as she looked at the boy.

Draco was instantly aware of the Potter heir, correlating the show of magic beforehand. He looked him up and down for a moment, using the seconds as the new Slytherin finished his rebuke to Pansy. His assertion on the train could not have been more wrong. Harry had indeed changed, more than just his poise and speech. He admitted that magically Harry had always been powerful, even if he was not aware of it, that didn't matter, power was power. But what he felt today, the growth of that power…it was exceptional, mesmerizing to an extent as it had subconsciously tested him. The pureblood in him revolted against this, but the opportunist, molded by his father, saw the merits of an association. The depth of Harry's magic seemed unfathomable and he had the inkling that was merely the tip of the iceberg.

His eyes narrowed speculatively. Since the Triwizard Tournament, Harry had been different, meaning that something happened then. Something about that evening was the catalyst of the change in the wizard before him, and he wanted to know. Yes, he would take the lead now, brokering an equally amenable relationship and perhaps a friendship. His father had taught him to always look for an opportunity no matter where it came from. In the past he had used those opportunity's to antagonize his once foe, though now…that opportunity would come from friendship, whether for ill or gain only time would tell.

Draco walked up beside Pansy, putting his pale hand on her shoulder, steadying the young woman as he sensed her worry. Almost instantly Pansy calmed down at his touch. "Sorry about that Potter." He paused looking at Pansy, "Like I said, we were curious and almost positive you wouldn't tell us, no matter how we asked, so we thought we would see what you were up to." He finished, his voice not quite as snide as normal as he extended his hand in apology. Harry for his part broke his porcelain like mask with a smirk before looking at the hand. He extended his own and shook it, accepting the apology, though maintained his guard. The old young mind knew that Slytherin's were sneaky, and the Malfoys sneakier.

Pansy, in all her life would never have believed what she had seen if anyone had told her, but to see Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy shake hands? Well…apparently the world had flipped and she was in some augmented reality where Gryffindor's were dark wizards with potent magic and Slytherin's were meek little snakes hiding from predators in a bush. She eyed the pair, somewhat unsure how to proceed before she felt a hand on her lower back as Draco pushed her forward. She immediately understood as she extended her own hand as an apology, her eyes turning to Harry's as she watched for the briefest of moments a small show of amusement cross his eyes before reverting to the cold and were she to admit domineering gaze.

"I'm sorry for my part, Harry." She followed, testing the level of familiarity she could push with him. She noted that Harry's brows almost imperceptivity moved, whether in anger, amusement or in questioning she couldn't tell, but he seemed to accept it as he shook her hand as well. The young lady following to Pureblood decorum, curtsying slightly. She smiled to herself at Harry's questioning glance.

"A habit Harry." She said with the slightest hint of a smile. "Pureblood decorum and such, something I'm sure Draco and I can help you with, now that you're associating with the right sort of individuals."

"Of course we will." Draco cut in. Stepping forward, putting his hand on Harrys shoulder as he pivoted on his heel turning around to face Pansy, barely catching the ignoble glare of the greenish eyed boy before promptly dropping his hand.

"Since that's been all sorted, what say we join our house mate this afternoon?" he said, Pansy nodding in agreement. He looked at Harry who seemed to be caught in thought for a moment.

Thought was correct as he weighed the pros and cons. Unfortunately, the pros outweighed the cons. With them with him he didn't look as suspicious, fully robbed and cloaked, attempting to hide in plain view. His hood would have to remain up, shrouding at least the top part of his face, anonymity had to be maintained. Taking a moment longer, he nodded before passing the pair slow enough for them to follow him. Draco had to physically stop himself from taking the lead, which was actually rather hard, considering he was used to the position of alpha. He reminded himself that things seemed to be different, if the demeanor of the wizard he thought he knew, even if it was as enemy had changed so much in less than a month.

One could question, rather one would question the strange and seemingly quick accord between two of Hogwarts somewhat prolifically biggest names. It wasn't their apparent popularity that would facilitate such unanimity, no. It wasn't false pretense, because owing to their disposition, the individuals knew the age old phrase 'Enemy of my enemy is my friend.' In the snakes den, that tenant was an unspoken law, something that each and every pureblood child knew, perhaps even half-bloods at the least those that strove to understand the world around them. It didn't do any good to dwell on the past, childish happening between a pair of boys that prostrated angst and petty squabbles. No, despite the youth clearly displayed, they each had been tested as children to some extent, Harry of course being the winner, were rotten upbringings the contest. None the less, Harry understood that even with his new frame of thought, he would need an in amongst the snakes; his golden boy image was much too shiny for the succinct denizens of the dark and perpetually cool dungeons and Draco, regardless of his pompous demeanor was that in.

"Where are we going?" Pansy asked, walking on Harry's left as Draco was on Harry's right.

"Ollivander's." Harry replied

"But you have a wand." Pansy continued.

He drew the wand out looking at it momentarily before replying. "It's not mine."

Panys's eyes widened for a second before a speculative look framed her face, her eyes darting from the wand and to his stoic appearance. She admitted that of all the girls she particularly enjoyed some wrong doings; at least the ones that excited her, made her heart beat a bit faster, and stimulated her adrenaline all on a more primal level. She bit her bottom lip for a moment, a coy smile gracing her face before her lips pursed. "So you beat another wizard in a duel and claimed his wand? That still doesn't explain why you're using that one. What happened to yours?" She said somewhat breathlessly.

Draco though smirked slightly as he watched Pansy question Harry. She had always been interested in such things, though he was surprised that she would espouse that part of herself in front of Potter, regardless of his household allegiance. She was generally guarded to people aside from those that she knew well enough. Perhaps she thought along the same lines he did, understanding that this association could turn out to be beneficial. Through it all though he remained quiet, his eyes looking over the individuals that moved around the alley. Some paid them attention, he was used to that, whilst others simply continued. His eyes turned back to the shop in question, no more than a few meters away as he listened to Harry's response.

"My wand was broken." He paused as they approached the shop. "And I suppose you could say I beat this wands previous owner…considering I used his own wand to kill him." He finished, walking up the steps of the shop and pushing the door open, entering before they could formulate any kind of response. He smiled inwardly as both of their eyes widened, almost comically, the door to the wand shop almost closing before Draco caught it and pulled it open, admitting himself and pansy.

"You can't ju-" he began but was silenced as Harry rose his hand. He scowled, clearly not liking this but acquiesced once more…'Opportunity…' he thought to himself, glancing at Pansy as she giggled lightly, his own face reddening a bit before he turned to look at the approaching shuffle of feet thinking to himself, he most definitely would get to the bottom of that.

Coming around the open doorway that led to the back room of his store, Ollivander graced them with his appearance behind the counter that separated him and his clientele. His willowy hair clung to the sides of his face, a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead that he dabbed at with a worn towel he pulled from his pocket. Resting his hands on the counter in front of him, he turned his eyes towards the trio.

"10 inches long , hawthorn wood, unicorn hair core…reasonably pliant…" He paused, "No doubt you have cherished the wand Mr. Malfoy. Turning to Pansy he continued "Miss Parkinson, 9 ¾" long, made of ash, a tricky wood, and a dragon heart string at its core. Very stubborn but very loyal." His eyes turned slowly to the last of the group "11 inches long, made of holly with a phoenix feather core…very unique" He paused "very powerful…" He greeted, his sallow and faded grey eyes pausing on each as he said their names before swiveling back to Harry and stopping. The watery appearance vanishing as they focused almost unnaturally on the young wizard, wiping his forehead once more. "Excuse me children, but I've been busy clearing up the back room." He said in way of an apology.

Looking around momentarily, as if searching for something, he found what he had been looking for, grasping the arm of a stool and pulled it behind himself. "Forgive me; these old bones don't like to do too much work anymore." He paused as he sat himself on the edge of the stool, not actually sitting in it. "I must admit, I didn't expect to see you anytime soon since our impromptu meeting for the weighing of the wands. I have to say congratulations Mr. Potter, I hear you performed spectacularly, good win for Hogwarts eh? Though I am surprised to see you with these two."

"And what do you mean by that?" Draco cut in, a pompous flare in his voice as he turned his chin upward proffering a slightly regal stance all the while narrowing his eyes as he stepped forward, hand sliding to his own wand in his pocket.

"I meant no disrespect Mr. Malfoy; I just expected to see Mr. Potter here with the two that normally accompany him. I never would have thought to see you, Mr. Malfoy, consorting with those others, please accept my apology." The aged wizard replied, quickly. He understood how that could have been seen as a slight, and considering the hotheaded youth, that was exactly what he thought…Ollivander wasn't a fool though and acquiesced, the Malfoys were a dangerous family, a family that took slights seriously, and considering his age and waning health, he did not wish to aid deaths race to embrace him any quicker.

Malfoy having been placated, released his grasp on the wand in his pocket as he caught Harry's glance before he spoke. "Some friendship's cannot endure the stress of change, be it in ideal, morality, desire or maturity. In those instances one must decide how they will proceed; attempt to fix what is broken or move on knowing that some things are not meant to or cannot be fixed." Harry paused, "I chose to move on, Mr. Ollivander, as things for me have changed. Associations must be looked at in the grand scheme of life…influences taken into consideration, and for someone like me, someone that has been exalted and defamed in the same sentence, it's only prudent that I step lightly, wouldn't you agree?" He stopped to pace his diatribe before continuing in a faux somber voice. "That being said Mr. Ollivander, I require a new wand."

So blatantly honest, Ollivander thought to himself as he perceived the young man. So different from how he looked the first time, a young and pale, skinny boy. Short for his age, wearing mismatched clothes much too big for him, he had guessed hand me downs. Broken glasses on an innocent and excited face. Amazement gleaming in those once emerald green eyes with a hint of luminous chartreuse as he absorbed everything his eyes could, recording them in his young mind. Sorting them out for the inevitable plethora of questions he was going to ask; now a distant memory. The years had changed him, he noticed this at the wand weighing, but the biggest change was the time since the Triwizard tournament. Deep, fern green eyes, flecked with odd specks of red stared at him fully, barring an unnatural edge. That once young and animated face bore a similar appearance to his younger self, though now pale and more matured. His guise was an alabaster mask of antipathy and apathy framed by hair darker than a starless night, no moon to give a reprieve from the surrounding shadows. A pity, he admonished. A great pity for a child that had lost so much and continued to lose more and more. Resentment would pave the inevitable temperament that would be created in the recesses of an ostracized mind. A seer he was not, but someone that had an innate sense of magic an ability his father had told that that was something only the greatest of wandcrafters had and being an Ollivander, he was amongst the greatest.

"Of course, of course." He said with a smile belying his thoughts. "Though it is a pity that you lost your first wand. It was a treasure I say, one that I had hoped to exist for some time, alas it seems fate was not kind to that wand. At least it served you well." He moved slowly at first as he brought down a few boxes and placed them on the counter in front of Harry. "I remember that your dominant hand was your right hand." He said as he began opening the boxes, exposing the new wands, one after the other. "But I must ask, now that you are familiar with your magic and its feeling, would you say that your right hand is still your dominant one?" He asked the young man.

"Yes." Harry said before he thought quickly. Perhaps he wasn't though. He had never taken the time to try using his magic with his left hand. The old mind gave clarity to the young one, thoughts flowing freely as two were almost soundly one. He succumbed to ego allowing it to be a vector for his premonition; it was almost as if he had the innate sense and ability to deftly say that it was a strong possibility that he was ambiguous. If that was the case, then he would eventually have to acquire a second wand to avoid suspicion.

"Come, try this wand" Ollivander beckoned. "It may feel a bit strange at first, much different from your first wand. Don't let that deter you though, take the wand and give it a very slight flick of the wrist." He paused as he chuckled. "Though I'm certain you already knew this." He finished as Harry stepped towards the wand. He gave it a glance, a quick once over, his eyes taking in the handle before he reached for it and took the tool into his palm.

Immediately he felt it was wrong. It was like handling a hollow reed, almost weightless and empty. He felt nothing from it but an intrusive emptiness. It was almost like his magic was recoiling from it, recoiling from the bleak and austere blah that this wand represented. He dared to give it a flick, but a note of curiosity captured him, perhaps he would try only a flick. Knowledge was gained by trial error. He had convinced himself as he flicked the offensive creation. The feeling was worse now as he felt his magic push into the wand; force itself through the wood, struggle against a force unseen before escaping on the other end in the form of a lifeless ball of flame. He instantly sneered at the creation before flicking his wrist once more, vanishing it before he set the wand down.

"I don't like it." He said matter of fact like, leaving no room for opposition as his eyes turned toward the crafter. He placed the wand on the counter between them.

"Indeed, indeed. Very rare that we get the correct wand on the first try." He said as he shuffled the boxes before bringing them before his client.

This procedure endured as wand after wand was placed before his client, each not reacting to Harry as he grasped them, flicked the, twirled them or simply handled them. Draco was growing steadily weary as he would cast tempus every now and then, watching the time tick itself away. Pansy had found a seat and was idly twirling a strand of hair as he leaned her head against the back of the chair. She had always prized herself on her patience.

Harry though was growing more and more frustrated. With each wand he found his temperament worsening, each swish found his jaw tensing. Finally as he grasped the last wand on the counter he flicked it as it gave a slight show of green sparkles before waning into nothingness as he brought the wand to the counter with force.

He looked at the wand and back to Ollivander as he found his frustration had worn his patience to its breaking point. "I've grown tired of this Ollivander, very tired. I came here because you are the best crafter in England. A crafter that has never been unsuccessful at matching a wizard or witch with a wand, yet thus far I can confidently say you have been failing. Stop pushing wand after wand in front of me and acquiesce to your failure."

Draco and Pansy had both jumped, startled out of their boredom driven stupor as Harry slammed the wand on the counter. They listened as the young man spewed his vitriol to the owner of the shoppe, whom had taken a step back as he felt a sudden cold leech into his veins. The trio distantly felt the heaviness of something faintly sinister, something alien as each unknowingly pulled themselves back from the angered wizard. Draco and Pansy watched, not in fear, though they were adequately encumbered by worry, but interest. Draco more so as he felt that magic once more, so similar to the heaviness that had blanketed the field after the final task, Pansy was more intrigued in the way Harry spoke to Ollivander. It was a surprise to see the easy mannered boy-who-lived berating someone, let alone the crafter of almost every wand in England for almost a century.

"Forgive me Mr. Potter." Ollivander cut in as the boy paused. His senses felt a sudden danger, the hairs on the back of his neck rising, almost warning him of the apex predator that loomed so closely. He glanced at boy once more; the anger he possessed, the deep seated animosity lingering in his eyes, almost daring anyone to question it. Yes, something had changed in the meek young man; something that warranted caution. But that power? That power when even significantly muted by the boy and by wards and rune structures Ollivander had built to help reign in accidental magic was awesome, frightening, hungry, feral yes, but none the less awesome.

"I wonder…" He began, mirroring the same words he had used so long ago in the presence of the same boy. "Wait here" he said before vanishing into the back, almost as if Harry would actually leave. The drop of boxes could be heard, a faint thump here and there before the sound of wheels were replaced by the echo of the old man's shoes as he returned to the front. He set a rectangular box draped in a cloth on the counter before them as he removed the silk like material and left it underneath the box. The box itself was a deep almost blackish red wood with nothing on it. Its beauty came from its refined lines and the fact that the wood had been polished to a shine so pristine it could only have been achieved with delicate magic. Using fingers that would leave a mark to open it was more than a shame. "This was something my father left me." He looked at Harry. "This was the only wand my father ever sought help fashioning. It is an amalgamation of work from my father and Milos Gregorovitch, Mykew Gregorovitch's father." He looked down at the item. "Both my father and Gregorovitch were spectacular crafters, each with skill so great that they were sought out worldwide. Though different, very different in their style, it was that difference that made them both so spectacular. As you can guess, Gregorovitch the younger and I both inherited much of our talent from our father's, but where my father looked to the past and relied on what was established only to delve into the old and esoteric, I looked to the future of wand crafting, better cores, more woods and the like. That being said, they both shared a unique passion in history both real and fake. The pair came together to test themselves and to test the laws of wand making. Each knew they were equally skilled albeit inimitably different, and it was both the differences and similarities that allowed the pair to put their heads together and attempt to create a wand similar if not equal to the wand in the tales of the Peverell bothers."

"Those are nothing more than story's mums tell their children before tucking them in to bed." Draco cut in. "Nothing more than myths and tales."

"Perhaps Mr. Malfoy, but wouldn't it be safe to assume that some myths have root in truth?" He questioned before returning his attention to Harry. "Have you heard the tale of the Deathly Hallows Mr. Potter?" He questioned.

Harry remained silent for a moment as he scoured his memories both young and old, though could only grasp on mentions of the tales though nothing alluding to a full retelling. "Only bits and pieces, never the story in it entirety.'" He admitted.

"Ahh, then it is my duty to tell you young man." Not waiting for an answer, he immediately dove in. ""There were once three brothers who were traveling along a lonely, winding road at twilight…"

Ollivander spoke in a soft voice, only growing in strength as the story necessitated. Harry found himself mildly amused for the most part until the wizard reached the appearance of the personification of death and the mention of an invisibility cloak. Harry's eyes grew wide for only the barest of moments as he wondered to himself if the very cloak he possessed was the cloak in the story. It couldn't be though, right? Surely Draco was correct in his statement; this was nothing more than a story. It did peak his interest enough to decide to do some research into this tale, more so at the mention of the elder wand. Harry could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on point at its mention. A wand witch such power…He could barely fathom it, and if it was real, well, the young man decided that it had to be his.

This knowledge though drew his favor, as he turned his eyes to the wand he had been presented with. The box remained closed, which added to the thrill Harry felt. Could such a wand be replicated? Could something so powerful be remade by the mortal hands of wand makers, some of the greatest indeed, but mortal none the less?

"Before you take the wand in hand, I must tell you that both my father and Gregorovitch the elder thought there attempt to recreate the death stick a failure; though considering they had nothing in which to judge it with, they couldn't come to a concise conclusion. They decided that they had begun to meddle in things far too abstract and unknown. Who were they to believe themselves equal to death? Though the truth was that in their attempt to match the creation and their subsequent failure, they had created something that both wizards shrunk from. They had birthed a wand that they both feared and felt unnatural in their presence." Ollivander looked down at the box, "My father said that when they ended their experiment, Milos would not take the wand with him, he would have nothing to do with it. He felt that they had tried to step into the world of gods and in doing so created an abomination. He said that death was laughing at them right now and soon he would pay them a visit for trying what they did…" Ollivander looked up at Harry, the boy's eyes staring intently at him, waiting for him to finish this tale. "It came as a surprise to my father when he heard tale of Milos's death two fort nights later, furthermore as it was said that Milos eyes were closed tight as if he saw something he never wanted to see again."

Harry's eyes moved to the boxed wand, staring at it intently, his eyes roving over the polished wood. He couldn't help but agree with Milo's to some extent, how foolish of them to think they could match death; but true interest had sprouted at the mention of the fear they both felt after its creation…what was it that could affect two renown masters of their shared craft?

"Be careful Mr. Potter, my father was no cryptic but he firmly believed this wand to be something else, his greatest and worst creation. Not even I have seen this wand, but I can tell you, I have felt strange when around it. My father feared it so much so that he kept my mother and I away from it until I began my apprenticeship." He smiled slightly, a smile stemming from memory and emotion, maybe reliving the past. "Perhaps, you can waylay those fears; perhaps you are the one meant to master it?" He finished.

Ollivander watched as Harry's hands rose from his side and towards the closed box, his finger touching the refined wood before he pushed the lid open, letting it rest on the silk like material. The wand was strange and beautiful, deep, dark with a gentle burst of grey that ran along the center. The handle itself was bowed, almost as if you would hold it like a muggle gun though curved and not so pronounced. The wood there was dark, darker even than the remainder of the wand though somewhat rustic, playing as if the wood was still part of nature, though all around the topmost part of the handle, what he called the guard, were the most intricate of designs trailing all along the curved handle and into the base. The natural lines of the wood gave way to intense definition, marking where both wizards' had shared their work and a mastery of wood crafting that shown through the base to the tip. Harry smiled slightly, his eyes washing over the wand before he ran a finger down its spine, his finger recoiling almost instantly. This caused Ollivander's eyes to widen in shock, though before he knew it Harry's eyes had also grown wide, a smile crossing his lips as he reached forward and grasped the handle of the wand.

Harry had never felt anything like it. The wand was a rush of cold, tainted power. It felt like cold fire, pain and ecstasy not unlike the venom of the basilisk and the tear of the phoenix still coursing through his veins, tingling and moving up and down his arm before making its way through out his body. It was like two entities, obviously emulating its creators, though it mirrored Harry perfectly as the two entities had long since become one. It was powerful and yearned for a master that could take it, force it to submit, wield it and make it create magic the likes of none before. It hummed a sinister note as it welcomed Harry into its vast and endless dark. He could feel that this wand was a kindred soul, a kindred soul meant only for him; a kindred soul created by selfishness, hued by lust for power, birthed by deceit and misgiving and perfected by anger and wrath. Its creators had never been able to use it, they feared it. They feared what they perceived to be its vast emptiness, a dark deeper than the night, an emptiness that caused them to shake. In their desire to recreate the Elder wand, they gave shape to something else, something they could not perceive as Gregorovitch had wanted nothing to do with the wand and Ollivander had set the wand as far away from thought as possible.

"Mine." Harry muttered, his voice soft, yet silky and possessive in a nature that was once not his, but now, now it was …delirious in the feeling, relishing it as its intricacy was far beyond his holly wand. The sensation he felt as he and the wand became one bordered on sexual, his eyes were heavy and his breathing deep. " …Mr. Potter?" He heard distantly his eyes began to focus once more. "Mr. Potter?" he heard again. "HARRY!" another voice yelled, drawing him from his elation as his eyes quickly focused, swiveling around before he pivoted on his heel and turned to face the offender. "What!?" He demanded back.

Draco's eyes were wide as he took a step back from the wizard though brought his hands out and gestured around him. Harry eyes narrowed before he looked around only to surprise himself. Everything in a twelve foot radius was floating; he had no idea that he released this much of his magic in his delight. He mentally berated himself before he drew in a breath and used the collected knowledge of the young and old to reign in the power. As he did he stood to his full height, opening his eyes once more before he looked at the wand again, his eye's not wanting to look at anything else. He did however note that controlling himself was something he would have to learn soon, he couldn't be caught making shows like this any longer.

"Elder wood… 13 ¾ inches long, fashioned to a point" Garrick Ollivander began. "My father had spent eleven years of his youth searching for it and only found enough to make this one wand. He never found any more." He paused though it was more like a hesitation before he looked at the trio, still confounded by the sheer massiveness of Harry's latent magic. "The core…well, it's less…less exalted as the wood it is surrounded by." Ollivanders voice was soft, almost fearful mired in slight revulsion and ironic pride. "Its two, one could say three cores made one. A wing feather of a phoenix on its burning day, wrapped in the heartstring of an ancient and decaying dragon, further soaked in basilisk's venom that nearly cost my father his life." Taking a breath he continued. "Both knowing the cost that must be paid to see a thestral, neither my father nor Gregorovitch knew of where to find a Thestral's hair already plucked, but knew that Thestral's were creatures of death themselves…They thought that they could match the thestral hair by collecting ingredients from powerful creatures that were either dying, were dead, or caused death. This is what they used as the wands core and this is what they said caused the feeling they felt, why they would never try to wield it." He looked to the wand. "But it seems to have chosen its master." The old man finished.

And chosen it had, if Harry had anything to say about it. He would never part with this beauty that caressed the shadows of his own mind. He looked at the aged master. "Well then, how much do I owe you?" He questioned, his voice losing its liveliness and bordering on uninterested almost hurried.

"Nothing, Mr. Potter nothing at all." He smiled, his age showing. "you've done enough, giving my father's wand a home and a master. Perhaps you will do great and wonderful things with what my father dismissed as corrupted." He finished, willowy in voice.

Harry and the other two both acknowledged the wizard once more before vacating the shoppe.

"Well that was fun…" Draco said sarcastically.

Harry stopped and turned to face the pair, pulling his hood up once more. "No one told you to follow me Malfoy." He said blankly, his lips pursed slightly.

"You're right, we have only us to blame but since your show on the last day of term we really had no choice. Who knows what the great Harry Potter will do next?" He raised a brow. "We have to be the first to know, better yet the first to see." He finished with a slight chuckle as pansy giggled. Harrys face remained apathetic, an alabaster mask marred by a lightning bolt scar. He turned from the pair, the young and old minds wiping away their useless banter as he casually flicked his wand, muttering tempus only to have his eyes grow wide…"The trace…" he whispered to himself.

"What?" Pansy asked as if Harry had been speaking to her.

Harry shook his head and waited, counting to fifteen before looking around only to smile inwardly.

There was no trace on this wand. He should have figured if the wand had been set aside for so long. They probably thought they would never sell it. But they did, and Ollivander was right, Harry would do great things with it.

Noting the time he decided it was time to pay Gringotts a visit. He turned slightly, casually eyeing the pair that followed him. It would do him better were he in a group, friends, that is what they would see, children enjoying each other. It would appease any lingering eyes and absolve him of scrutiny, though this mind understood long ago that such things brokered weakness and attachment was a truly illogical weakness. They could be seen as his associates anything further would be brokered in time. He knew he had wasted time, far too much of it and had to waylay any other unplanned expeditions and focus only on what he had planned on. Turning swiftly, he stepped forward, already knowing that Draco and Pansy would follow. Harry was something they didn't truly understand, and in their quest for knowledge, they would follow him only to appease their curiosity. They wanted to know if he was valuable or expendable, much like any other Slytherin; they weighed their profit vs loss and right now, riding on the coat tails of the venerable youth who forced the supreme mugwump of the international confederation of wizards and headmaster of Hogwarts to bend knee and acquiesce to his demands was the most prudent of expenditures. Add to it that he was a late addition to the den of snakes, slayer of the dark lord, parselmouth possible heir of Slytherin, and Triwizard Tournament Champion, well they had enough reason to watch and ponder the Potter heir.

Though Harry's green eyes were alive with interest, interest in what limits he could break with this wand of his. Pulling his hood lower, he barely hid the ever growing flakes of crimson that momentarily concealed his emerald opals.


Draco and Pansy remained quiet and impassive as they sat in the periphery of Harry's meeting, waiting to be served.

Pansy though could barely reign in her barely veiled impatience. It was curious to her that Harry was doing the same and that left her wondering yet again. The young wizard was a quandary, one moment he bared no similarity to the Gryffindor she had seen around the castle; domineering, cold, empty of emotion though certainly not lacking in power, he had shown all of this just in the wand shop. His face a mask she definitely enjoyed seeing. The next moment he was as pleasant as warm Sunday breeze. She wondered how he could do it, how he could rid himself of the emotions he once wore so plainly on his sleeve and so fast. It was a wonder really, but somewhere deep down she knew a faint truth, that to be able to do that perhaps pain would always be the catalyst. She wondered what had turned the golden child. To her he portrayed a new form of living emerald, beautiful to see, valuable even. Her parents would be thrilled to learn of her new association.

At first she had questioned Draco's interest. Their shared past was no mystery, the whole school could attest to that. But after hearing that Draco had met with Harry on the train, that had drawn her full interest. She listened as Draco and Blaise quietly debriefed each other, both speculating on what they had seen and heard. They didn't share much, outside of veiled whispers, holding what they knew to their breast and amongst each other, a trait shared by most children in Slytherin but she knew that his interest had been piqued.

Now she knew why, his father would want him to attempt a friendship, a beautiful deception of emotion. She knew he would want eyes on the living question mark. She also knew that Draco would see it as an opportunity to step outside of his father's shadows. What she didn't expect was for Draco to extend his friendship; she had seen it when he extended his hand. She didn't like it but she couldn't blame him, they were similar. Similar enough to broker an alliance if only based on each other's honor. That was something they would value. If she were judging it on Harry's past self, but this new Harry, he was unknown.

She looked at Draco, admiring him a bit. His grey eyes flickered to her for a moment smirking slightly before turning back to watch the proceedings.

"Mr. Potter, thank you for your continued patience. His lordship Ragnuk the 4th will be with you soon." He paused and looked at Harry's companions. "Is there anything I can offer you and your associates whilst your wait?" The goblin asked, his lips baring slightly as he sneered the word associates, his feral looking eyes lounging on Draco and Pansy before turning back to the boy.

"We are fine for now." Harry said, his voice low. His new and old mind disregarding his once admirable fondness of the lesser folk. For that is what they were, he finally acquiesced, a very faint part of him revolting at the thought that now seemed natural. They were less, and he had no problem reminding them should he need to but right now duplicity would be his ally.

Filth his inner voice echoed.

He smiled to the goblin before him, slightly as the Goblin left the room.

Harry remained impassive. His face not registering the internal impatience that was jostling his thoughts. His defiance was halted with each possibility as he waited for the goblin to enter, each possible outcome that could arise from this impromptu but dually necessary meeting. He needed to know if he was financially capable of standing on his own, let alone capable of being granted an abide in relation to his current housing situation. The Goblin Federation stood separate from the wizarding ministry and in this they could act without repercussion meaning that they had total control of information they had and could pass it on, of course for a price, the sneaky creatures.

He had two important questions, could he get away without too much struggle and where did he stand financially. He was too young to work, so hopefully the rumors were true and his father's family was indeed wealthy. If they were, he would definitely question their acquiescence in his father's decision to marry outside of his class. Of course his birth was a definitive benefit, but the equanimity of the situation was a wonder. Pureblood and mudblood, bound in love and holy matrimony. His young and old mind shied from the thought, love. Even as a child he questioned its existence, of course in direct relation to himself. He heard it spoken of, practiced on others, but never, not once on him. Hatred was what he learned…

He was pulled from his rumination by the clearing of a throat. His red flecked green eyes snapped upward and trained on the Goblin ruler.

"Mr. Potter, it's a pleasure to finally meet you." The goblin said with a deep, gravelly voice his yellow eyes keenly watching the youth and his ilk. "It's also my pleasure to assist you today, shall we begin?"

There was a pause before the goblin began, drawing parchments from his desk as he disclosed the information Harry wanted to know.


Thought was invariably what would precede his entrance to the manor. Quick, though deep thought. Draco was pondering the silence that had purveyed the trio shortly before Harry withdrew and left their company; his face a replica of stone, only his eyes bled his thoughts, the windows to the soul. No, if they saw or even gleaned the faintest bit of emotion, it was most likely a ploy of some sort, something used to deceive the easily fooled. No, this Harry they had borne witness to was an enigma, something father would definitely want him to investigate; luckily he had initiated the interaction and thus could entertain his ploy.

Now he only had to disseminate and understand the information he was presented throughout the day. SO much, yet he couldn't make heads or tails of it. Pansy lounged in a chaise across from Draco, enjoying the vestige of a late summer afternoon. She idly ate some grapes, all the while sipping at some liquid the house elves had brought them, of course at their command. Draco though leaned back in his high backed outdoor chair, sipping at his cup of iced pumpkin juice, his free hands fingers strumming the arm rest, his eyes idly trailing a falling leaf. From the onset of their venture, Draco had decided he wouldnt succumb to summer boredom. That desire had been completed the moment he had seen Potter. Draco had his own reasons for befriending the boy-who-lived, the most plebian of which was because he deserved it. Harrys societal status rocketed forward with his victory in the Triwizard Tournament and with that his prestige and worth. Draco was a Malfoy, and should a rich or famous person be near, they deserved to stand by them, his status required it. Beyond that Draco was still investigating…

"What do you think is going on with him?"

Draco pulled himself from his thoughts, eyes darting to Pansy. "Hmm?"

"Potter? What do you think is going on with him?" She repeated.

Draco shrugged, an honest shrug. "I really don't know, but whatever caused the change, it started well before we left school."

"Really?" Pansy replied, shifting to rest on her side and elbow, her head resting in her palm. "How do you figure?"

Draco pursed his lips after taking a sip of his drink. "It's not as if a change like that can happen overnight, I mean if it can, then I'd certainly like to know how." Draco leaned forward.

"What about his magic?" Pansy followed up. "I know you felt it."

And there was the question he himself had. His magic.

Draco couldn't quite understand what happened when it happened. He couldn't explain the heaviness that had surrounded him when it did. In the moment Potter's magic leaked out, it was like an avalanche of raw undiluted power, enough to distort his thoughts and make his vision blurry. He had felt his head grow fuzzy, his body grow heavy, and rationality began to trickle away. He had to actually bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from completely succumbing to the noxious influence Potters magic claimed. Beyond that, in the same moment Draco had seen Potters eyes, the polluted emerald green accompanied by a void of nothing, only sheer malevolence and daring, disk like pupils that dilated unknowingly with the flow of his power…It was like he was begging for Draco to make a move, begging for the blonde to do something foolish enough to allow him to release his magic in full and leave Pansy short a head. Three weeks ago he would have laughed at the thought of Potter killing someone, but at that moment, he doubted his own preconception. He would kill her without hesitation.

He would never tell Pansy how close she had come, especially because it was his bravado that put them on the crux.

"I don't know Pansy." He said, looking up and at her, his eyes focusing on her own.

"It wasn't the magic you would expect to feel coming from a Gryfindork…"

"And who would you expect it to come from?" Draco asked.

Pansy chewed on her bottom lip for the briefest of moment before replying, "I suppose one of us, a Slytherin, if anyone."

"Did you forget, Pansy? He IS a Slytherin now."

Panys's cheeks reddened in mild embarrassment. "I did." She didn't like making a fool of herself, let alone in front of the boy she fancied.

Disregarding her airy breath, Draco went back to his thoughts. The second time he encountered Potter's magic it was very similar to what happened before, yet invariably different. The second time, it was simply the fact that his magical presence was so great, great enough to cause a faint static charge in the air and unknowingly cause inanimate objects to float. The biggest surprise was that he had no idea it was happening which begged the question how powerful did the boy have to be to still have instances of accidental magic so great that it could disrupt wards his father had said the wand maker had erected decades ago. Draco knew without a question that what they witnessed was only the tip of the iceberg.

Draco was clear on one thing for certain, he had felt it in the air more than once during the day. A faint, almost unnoticeable malevolent taint lingering everywhere Harry was or had been, as if the ambient magic that permeated magical societies had been forced to accept his will and the feeling grew once Harry got his new wand.

"That wand…" Draco muttered with a shiver.

Before he could continue, he was distracted by a pop to his left; his grey eyes followed the sound before landing on a bowing house elf.

"Master and Mistress be wantin' yous at the dining table, young master." The creature said, only vanishing with a pop once Draco had given it a terse quick nod.

Draco only realized then how hungry he was. He had been so caught up in his thoughts that he had not paid his guest any attention; the low grumble from his stomach emphasized that. He knew dinner was a social affair, so rallying his thoughts and organizing his day, he proceeded to join his family, knowing full well his day would be scrutinized with a proverbial magnifying glass and tweezers. It was how his father was raised, and in turn how he was being raised.

Today would be different, he knew it, after all anything including Potter was always different.


A/N: Well there it is, and luckily I actually have the next chapter started. So it's a bit more set up, but I wanted to start the beginning of Harry's association with other Slytherin's. Tell me what you all think about my depiction of Draco. Like I said, he knows how to maneuver, obviously not as well as his father but well enough. Harry Potter will get darker, much more so. I'm attempting to show his growing detachment. Harry will be evil, and with that will come so much more. As normal, thanks for read, please review.