He first heard the words "Harry Potter" uttered with disgust at the dinner table. His parents had been very displeased with his decision to ask questions and sent him to his room, where he spent an hour throwing pillows at Dobby. He waited a few nights and then decided to bring it up again.

"So who is this Harry Potter and what happened when he met the Dark Lord? Did he put up a fight or something?" Draco looked up during supper and made direct eye contact with his mother. He had no trouble acting bratty to her in front of his father, but he still hesitated to do so the same to him directly.

His mother's right hand gripped the soup spoon so hard that her knuckles turned even paler. She turned towards her husband and muttered "Lucius, I told you we should have waited-"

"Nonsense, Draco is old enough to know the cause of the Dark Lord's downfall," his father replied, his expression unreadable. Draco watched him with interest, unable to decipher whether he was pleased or sardonically faking it. "Draco," his father nodded at him grandly, "do you remember what we told you happened to Auntie Bella?"

"Yes," Draco replied, as he had heard the story several times. "After the Dark Lord vanished, she was sent to Azkaban because she refused to give up her allegiance to him."

"Exactly," the corners of his father's mouth curved slightly. "And the reason for this was because of Harry Potter."

Draco was incredulous. This man had put his aunt, reportedly one of the most powerful and uncontrollable witches in the family, into jail? After just one try?

"What happened to him afterwards? Was he killed by one of the other followers?" Draco asked eagerly.

His father turned towards his mother. She huffed and shook her shoulders, as if removing herself entirely from their conversation. He then turned back towards his son. "No one has been able to find out his whereabouts because of Dumbledore," he sneered ever so slightly, "but my best guess is that either one of us got to him, or he's starving in some poor Muggle orphanage where they don't let you get second helpings."

Draco blinked. "An orphanage?"

"It's where they sent unwanted children," his mother replied coldly, pushing away her empty tureen and standing up. "Come on, Draco, it's bedtime now."

Draco obediently stood up, laying aside his unfinished soup and hobbling towards her. Gently, he took her hand and followed her to his bedroom, where she instructed Dobby to fluff his pillows one last time.

"So, nobody knows what happened to Harry Potter or who he is? Wait, was he...a Muggleborn?" Draco asked, still confused.

"I don't know, sweetheart," his mother replied, combing back strands of hair out of his eyes. "It's better not to worry about people like him."

Although Draco was already smart enough to know that Harry Potter was most certainly a traitor and dangerous resister who had betrayed the Dark Lord, he still admired him in a way for having the power to overcome the all-powerful man he had grown up hearing about. But he didn't feel the same way about Dumbledore, of course not, he only thought of him as intriguing.

"How long ago was this?" Draco asked sleepily, staring at his mother's angular face. Her brows furrowed slightly, but she replied anyway.

"Around the time you were five years old." The room dimmed, and simultaneously the night lights turned on, illuminating their faces with an ethereal blue glow. "You were just a tiny baby, and when we heard the news we couldn't believe it."

"So..." Draco thought over his father's words once more, when something occurred to him. "Wait...when Father said that he might be in an orphanage, does that mean...he's also a child?"

His mother narrowed her eyes. "You're not sympathizing with him, are you, Draco?" she sneered and reached towards him. Draco flinched slightly, but she was only pulling up the covers to tuck him in.

"No, of course not! He's...he's the enemy, just like anyone who would try to defy the Dark Lord," Draco replied. "It's just...how could such a small child resist the power of the great lord? Did Dumbledore protect him or something?"

"I don't know, darling, and I don't think we should ever care to," his mother replied, kissing him lightly. Her lips felt cold on his forehead. "Good night, sweetie."

"Good night, Mother," Draco replied, clutching the blanket closer. As she walked away, looking like a frail ghost under the night lights, he looked around and called out "Are you sure the boggart is gone?"

She paused slightly and looked over her shoulder. "Yes. I do think it is. If not, just call us."

"What if you don't hear me?"

"Of course we'll hear you, Draco, we always do," she replied flippantly, drawing the door close without making a sound. "Good night."

"Can't you stay and check the closet? I think I can hear something rattling."

"There is no boggart. Go to sleep, sweetheart."

"Okay."


"Just think of it," Draco grabbed the sheet of parchment and absentmindedly started rolling it up, "in just a few hours-"

"Yes, Master Draco?" Dobby asked meekly.

"Stop interrupting me, Dobby!" Draco glared, then went back to his fantasizing. "Just think of it-I looked him up, and I was right! Harry Potter is a wizard, he has to be...it's somewhat unfortunate that his mother was Muggleborn, but his father was a Pureblood! I knew he was connected to one of the Pureblood Potters branches!"

"Yes, Master Draco," Dobby replied, picking up a crocheted coaster. "Is Dobby free?"

"No, Dobby, that is a mug coaster. Anyways, I thought he might related to Charlus Potter, you know, since the Blacks are close to me and his godfather was Sirius Black," Draco wrinkled his nose slightly at the thought of his second cousin, "but no, it turns out he's a descendant of Fleamont Potter, completely different. So we're not related," he muttered somewhat more quietly, "but he is a wizard! And he was born just one month after me, would you know it!" He looked down to see Dobby eyeing the coaster mournfully. "Here, Dobby, catch!" he barked.

"Yes, Master Draco!" Dobby replied eagerly. "What is it? Is this clothes?" he asked, his eyes lighting up.

"Yes, it is, you are free Dobby," Draco smirked. "Go out and wear it proudly now."

"Thank you so much, Master Draco!" Dobby replied, running out wearing the paper cone Draco had just fashioned for him on his head.

Snickering to himself, Draco went about his planned daily activities. He had been waiting for this day for eleven years and he was not about to waste any of his time.

"Come on, dear, we're going to Diagon Alley," his mother spoke, sounding somewhat worn down and somewhat indifferent as usual. He wondered if perhaps she had been different before she'd married his father. He doubted his father had really changed much to accommodate her, though.

"What about Borgin and Burkes?" Draco whined slightly. The first time he had seen the display of bloody eyeballs, he had been somewhat scared and held onto his father more tightly, but now he was older and more used to such sights. He had seen a gaggle of lost children wheeling around in fear, cowering from the shop window, and smirked to himself while passing them by. Now, he practically asked about Knockturn Alley every time they Floo'ed somewhere.

"We won't have any time for them today," his mother replied briskly, "but you can ask Father for a pet when he joins us, Draco dearest. Now let's go." He hesitantly grabbed her strangely cold hand and, determined to get it over with, stepped into the giant fireplace with her.

"'Ey! Watch over whose hem you step on, you brainless fools!" An old lady shrieked as they entered the familiar hallway of Gringotts.

"Oh dear, I suppose I should have been more careful," his mother replied, smiling quietly. "Judging from the look of you, it must be one of your most precious possessions. Perhaps a family heirloom?"

"Wha-no, this is just somethin' I got a thrift shop, whaddaya tryin' to-"

"Oh, I see, my apologies," Narcissa Malfoy replied coolly. "Now if you'll excuse us, my son and I are terribly low on funds. Is it alright if we withdraw a few paltry thousands?" she asked their family goblin innocently.

"Of course, madam," Gizmo replied, "I see you're planning to be more economical for this trip?" His eyes glinted.

"Spare me, Gizmo," Narcissa sighed dramatically, "I'm already holding myself back on the Eulalie's Exquisite Essences sale this Sunday, you know."

Smirking at each other, mother and son held hands and walked away, leaving the poor old woman speechless as she clutched her meager purse of Knuts and Sickles.

Although he would not say it aloud, Draco himself was secretly pleased to be out and about and seeing the other wizards his age, even if he knew they weren't pureblood elite. Sure, he knew that they could never compare to his intelligence level and made poor companions due to their lack of conversational skills, but it was interesting to see the way they reacted to small things such as Kneazle crossbreeds or Florean Fortescue's fifteen-flavor soda fountain. He smirked. Their little minds would never be able to comprehend (or even stand) the visions he had seen from Knockturn Alley, but still, they were amusing. He did strike up a conversation with a poor little wastrel, but he left before he could recommend him some Sleekeazy's or even ask for a surname.

"Oh, they release a new model every year," he scoffed at the Nimbus 2000 display, much to the wide-eyed children's surprise. "I don't have a broom yet, but my father says it's better to wait until next year when the technology's much more improved anyway, and then he'll buy me a new one. You'll see."

"You know, I've been planning all my life for this, and it's quite odd to think that it's happening already. I wasn't even surprised to get a letter from Hogwarts, you know, my parents were thinking of sending me to Durmstrang but we didn't want to go that far. I think I might even know which wand I have-you see, wand wood skips a few generations in my family, and my mother was hawthorn, and my great-great grandmother had unicorn hair, so I figure I'll get either of those," Draco drawled, casually lighting a vase of flowers on fire. Ollivanders nodded wordlessly. "You should thank me, honestly, those poinsettias were rather dreadful. I can't stand the sight of red and gold. By the way, was there a Muggleborn here earlier or something? This place is a mess."

"All of those spells are complete duds," he flipped through a section of curse books. "You'll see-they're just silly nonsense for turning things yellow and keeping naive little kids busy. See, they read just like a Muggle nursery rhyme," he demonstrated, waving his new wand. The children shrieked and flinched, but when nothing happened, they gasped and clapped for him. Some of the older ones just glared at him and moved on. Draco smirked and politely asked them for their last names, making a mental note of who was going to or currently did attend Hogwarts.

"Hogwarts, am I right?" he smiled curtly at a girl with frizzy hair who had picked up a huge assortment of books, even more than the amount he had.

"No thank you, I already paid," she rolled her eyes and rushed past him quickly.

"Rude," Draco muttered, then went back to playing around with his new wand. "So, Father, you'll buy me a broom won't you?"

"I don't know, Draco, we'll see," Lucius Malfoy replied. "Maybe when you're older."

Draco frowned, but decided to leave it as he just wanted to go home anyways. "I bet Harry Potter is out here somewhere, you know, up to no good. He might even be doing the same thing as us, buying things for school now that he's eleven as well."

"Nonsense," his mother took his hand in hers. "Besides, you know their kind shouldn't be allowed in here."

"Of course, mother," Draco agreed instantly, gripping it tightly.

"What a good son I have," Lucius Malfoy remarked, gently patting his head.


Review if Bellatrix Lestrange is your childhood antihero.