Disclaimer: Harry Potter doesn't belong to me. -sighs-

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Chapter 6

Harry watched coldly as the barman tap the bricks in a practiced way. He vaguely memorized the way the barman tapped, dimly wondering what he was doing. Backing up a few steps, the barman gave him a toothed grin as he declared proudly, "Welcome to Diagon Alley!"

He watched in surprise as the bricks moved away smoothly, revealing a passageway that was simply teeming with people. He felt the delight warring with his anger as he felt the bustling warmth from the people in the Alley.

At the corner of his eye, he saw the man taking a few steps back towards his tavern, his lips twitching in a tucked away smile, he secretly marveled the man's lack of comments as though nothing had just happened in his tavern a few minutes ago. Brushing that thought away, he focused his sight on the busy place before him.

Eying one of the shops nearby that sold something that looked like cauldrons, his interest was sparked. Feeling his rare adventurous spirit flicker to life, an idea sprang into his head, and he spun around to face the Professor who had hurried after him after the…scene he created in Leaky Cauldron.

Plastering a fake smile on and tilted his head sideways, asking in an innocent voice, smiling charmingly, "Sir. May I have your permission to explore this Alley on my own? I promise that I would meet you somewhere after I'm done."

He looked intently at Professor's Snape, his heart trying to suppress any hope just in case he would be let down by the snarky Professor. To his surprise, he gave a terse nod. Before Harry could head straight into the crowds, however, Professor Snape drawled, "Wait."

Before Harry could act, the Professor took his wand out and murmured a few words, flicking his wand in a simplistic motion. Harry nearly jumped when he saw his second-hand clothes turning into dark green robes.

Professor Snape nodded at his new appearance, the sides of his mouth tweaking up in a slight smirk when Harry shifted uncomfortably around, trying to get used to his new clothes.

"I shall meet you at this entrance later," the Professor stated firmly, and paused for a while before asking, "Do you need any money?"

Harry shook his head fervently and gave a brief, polite nod to him and said, "Thanks Professor, I'll meet you here in three hours time." With that, he turned around and sped down into the Alley.

Professor Snape finally let out the shiver he had been suppressing. He had been glad to let Potter leave on his own. After all he had seen, he had to admit that Harry Potter hadn't turned out like he expected him to. His lack of knowledge of even the most basic magical terms, the lack of a cocky attitude, it all points to the fact that the Muggles told him nothing of his magical heritage and his past.

However, the shocked look of Petunia when he arrived, the absolutely delighted expression of Potter when he introduced himself, the politeness and the way he held himself that reminded him of a well-practiced Lord, the ease at which he dealt with the nauseous feeling apparation brought about…

He was sure Harry Potter knew of his own magic and his Lord Potter status to some extent, and was Slytherin enough to hide it from his magic-hating relatives, and used it to his advantage.

He stopped that train of thoughts suddenly. He couldn't believe he nearly praised that brat. Slytherin enough? He shook his head internally. No. Harry Potter was the son of bloody James Potter, and was destined to become an arrogant Gryffindor just like his father. Nothing else.

'He most probably would start all his boasting and cocky behaviour once he knows of his fame,' Severus thought snidely.

He almost managed to dismiss Potter and his existence, but he suddenly remembered the scene Potter created in Leaky Cauldron…

The way his magic washed over the whole crowd; that wasn't normal. Hardly anyone, not to mention an eleven year old magical child could do that, in fact, he only knew of a few people who could let loose their magic to this extent.

People were usually only able to keep their magic within themselves, and for it to be used outside of their body, a wand is usually used to help direct and focus their magic. To be able to bring it out of their bodies and let it loose; the wizard had to be either very powerful, or had excellent focus.

He shuddered again at the thought of that intoxicating magic caressing his skin, so tainted with darkness and all sorts of negative emotions, so wild with its power and yet restrained and controlled by its user so that it won't destroy everything it touches.

He dimly wondered if Potter was actually a Dark wizard, before banishing that ludicrous thought quickly; Potter was a Light wizard. All the darkness he felt must be due to his anger.

He paused for a while when a thought struck him, and he blinked, thinking back. Restrained and controlled? His eyes widened slightly, as realization hit him hard. That wasn't accidental magic. Potter didn't just know about the existence of his magic, or knew how to deal with accidental magic, or had excess amounts of magic. He knew how to wield it.

Merlin.

--

Harry took in a deep breath, his eyes scanning the noisy crowd. A wistful smile flickered over his face as he saw a child tugging on his mother's hand, his face screwed up in an adorable pout as he pointed relentlessly towards a toy.

His smile faded as he walked off. The cheering in the Leaky Cauldron still rang in his ears, making him clench his fist in irritation. He supposed he couldn't blame them. He did, technically speaking, removed their Dark Lord for them. He figured that the wizards and witches are simply looking up to him because he was there.

But it just wasn't fair. They were pathetic for depending on a small boy, pinning all their hopes on him when they were most likely far more powerful and well-trained themselves. If they wanted a God, they won't get it. He came to this world hoping to create a new life for himself, not to have another life pushed onto him.

He took a deep breath, and tried to wrestle down the magic that was struggling to emerge again. He couldn't believe he had nearly let loose of all his magic just because he was mad.

He knew perfectly well what kind of affect it had on people; he had tested it on Dudley as an experiment before when he first discovered his magic, wondering what powers he had, and the side-effects he saw were…

Well, shuddering like a drug-addict suffering from withdrawal symptoms wasn't really a pretty picture. At least that's what Harry thought it had looked like. It had taken Dudley a few days to recover, and the Dursleys had spent about hundreds of dollars bringing him to doctors trying to figure out what's wrong with him.

Though, judging by the previous situation, he supposed his powers had more of an influence of Muggles. Either that or he didn't really let loose that much of his magic.

Giving a sigh, Harry made a mental note to stay calm in the future.

A loud squeal caught his attention, snapping him from his thoughts. Turning around, his curiosity was sparked when he saw a group of people crowding around a glass window. Curiosity sparked, he immediately headed towards there, thinking that it would be the perfect spot to start his exploration of Diagon Alley.

He casted all the negative thoughts aside; he was set to enjoy himself.

A thought suddenly struck him, and he stopped in his tracks. He groaned internally as he thought of his scar. It was clear that he was noted for his lightning-shaped scar. He hastily combed his unruly hair over where the scar was, hoping it would do for now. He hoped that if one didn't look closely, they wouldn't notice.

Who in those large crowds would notice a small boy out on his own, anyway?

--

Harry gaped when he finally managed to see what all those people had been goggling at. He could feel figurative question marks popping in his head as he stared at the exact thing, or at least, the more old-fashioned thing that he had been using for the earlier part of his life.

A broomstick. Are wizards and witches nuts? What has a broomstick got to do with anything? Did they love to sweep the floor or something?

"It looks so brilliant! I wish Daddy would buy for me," the boy behind him gushed, eyes wide as he traced the broomstick from tip to toe.

"I heard that it's the fastest broom on the market now! Can you believe it? I so want to ride on it!" Another boy exclaimed. Harry swore he was swooning.

"I wish I could ride on it… It must be so wonderful to fly fast on that broom," the girl next to him sighed, her eyes glued onto the broomstick.

Raising his eyebrow, Harry glanced at the broomstick again. 'Nimbus 2000…' he mused, 'This thing can fly? Cool. I never thought that wizards and witches can really fly using broomsticks…'

Shrugging, he turned around and headed towards the entrance of the shop. Looking up, he noted the sign, 'Quality Quidditch Supplies'. He dimly wondered if Quidditch was some kind of sport they played with brooms.

He knew how crazy people could get with sports. After all, his sleep had often or not been interrupted by the cheering of the male Dursleys when their favourite team scored a goal.

Opening the door, the bell tinkled, revealing the interior of the shop. Harry blinked as he saw the amount of people squeezed within the shop. Carefully, he stepped in and maneuvered himself through the crowd, hoping to get to the other end.

"Mum! I want that Nimbus 2000! I don't want this Comet 60! It's so slow!"

"I want that Snitch, now!"

"Please, Dad, please? I really want that Cleansweep."

"I don't care if it's expensive! Just buy it for me!"

Harry inwardly sneered as he heard those conversations; they reminded him of Dudley. That's one of the reasons why he hated most children – they were too immature.

Hastily erasing those negative thoughts, he took a look around, marveling at all the specially-crafted broomsticks. Wondering how it would feel like to fly on them, he squeezed through the crowds and moved towards a broomstick on display, and closed his hand around it, gripping it tight.

He gasped when he suddenly felt a rushing feeling through him. Distantly, he heard screams of joy and a lifting feeling, as though he was flying. His hair was felt like it was being ruffled by a strong gust of wind. He had never felt so free or happy before.

As quick as it came, the feelings and sounds left him, leaving him feeling dazed and confused for a moment. He could feel his magic flooding through him, making him feel exhilarated, powerful and liberated.

He clenched his hands to stop the trembling, his thoughts in a mess as he pressed one hand against his chest, feeling his racing heart.

'What was that all about?' he thought, slightly panicked.

"Cleansweep? You've poor taste," a voice suddenly sounded beside him, startling him. Harry turned, only to meet a pair of haughty grey eyes.

The boy stood regally, his blond hair swept back neatly and stylishly. His pale skin contrasted with his dark blue robes beautifully, giving him an angelic appearance, though the aloof expression he wore made him look cold and distant like a statue. His robes were skillfully made, with gold threads intertwined with the blue along the hems; different from all the normal robes he saw on people walking on the streets. He was the epitome of style.

The half-smirk the boy wore was calculating as he looked at Harry, making him wary. Harry was sure that this boy was rich, or belonged to an influential family. Wondering what that boy wanted to do with him, he kept silent, hoping that he would speak up.

Subconsciously, he straightened his back and relaxed his stance, his chin tilting slightly up in imitation of the boy in front of him. He kept a wary eye on the boy, though he made sure his body language was friendly. He kept a polite smile on his face, planning to test waters. He hated to make enemies that he didn't need, and making an enemy out of a boy who was obviously rich was not smart. The boy had a hidden smirk as approval set into his eyes.

"Why don't you look at the other better brands? Nimbus for example. Cleansweeps are so…ugh," the boy drawled, flapping his hands in a dismissive way as he started the conversation. "I don't understand why people like to shop for cheap brands like Cleansweeps. Even Comets are better than them."

His hands made a sweeping gesture over the crowd in the shop, his face pinched in a sneer as he made depreciating comments. Startled at his behavior, Harry forced back a laugh, all the while thinking that that boy was like a lady, picky over stuff.

The boy must have noticed Harry's expression though, as he demanded icily, "What are you laughing at?"

Harry hastily swallowed down his laughter, unwilling to offend the wizard he just met. "Oh, nothing really. I don't really get what's the big deal about broomsticks. Will you tell me?"

Shock filtrated through the cold mask the boy wore, and he almost shouted as he questioned, "What? Do you even know they are used to play Quidditch, the greatest sport on Earth?" Harry was lucky that the shop was crowded, or else it would have been embarrassing.

"What?" Harry was sure that his face was burning red now. He hated to not know what people were talking about; it made him look stupid.

The blond narrowed his eyes at him, his expression suddenly turning nasty as he tilted his head up arrogantly and glared at him. He stepped back a few steps as though offended.

"You don't happen to be a Mudblood, are you? I thought you might be a pureblood, being allowed to go out on your own. Apparently I'm wrong."

Throwing a perplexed look at the boy, Harry cocked his head slightly to the side as he pondered what the boy had just said. Mudblood? Pureblood?

Biting his lip, Harry hesitated. Should he ask? It would be showing weakness, but he really didn't want to be left in the dark. Sighing, Harry gave in. "I'm afraid I really don't get what you mean. I've lived with my Muggle relatives all my life, only knowing that I'm a wizard till today. My parents were magical though, according to Professor Snape."

The boy looked stunned for a moment, before rearing back as though hit by something, realization dawning in his eyes. His eyes flicked up to Harry's forehead before meeting his eyes again. Nervously laughing, Harry reached up and patted his hair over his scar, hoping that he wouldn't see.

The boy stared blankly at Harry; conflicting emotions of uncertainty and doubt were seen clearly in his eyes, though they were carefully hidden from his face. If Harry had not been good in observing people, he doubted that he would be able to spot those emotions.

After a few moments, the boy opened his mouth and said, "Professor Snape? Severus? Well…if he says you're parents are magical, they most probably are." The tentative tone in his voice was clear, and he said the words as though it was hurt him.

He continued to stare at Harry, making him feel uncomfortable. When Harry began to shift from one leg to another and avert his eyes, the boy seemed to have thought of something.

Suddenly gasping, his hand flew to his mouth. Startled, Harry stiffened. Light returned to his eyes as he exclaimed, "You said you've been living with Muggles all your life? Oh Merlin, you poor thing."

"Well, yes. Poor me," he muttered bitterly in reflex.

The boy now looked at him in slight surprise, as though not expecting him to agree. He held a contemplating gaze as he looked at Harry, making him look down at the floor to escape the penetrating stare. The dirty spot seemed to be extremely interesting at that moment.

The boy suddenly lunged forward and grabbed Harry by his arm, making him jump in surprise. The boy's eyes softened as he looked down at Harry. Distantly, he noted that the troubled face the boy had worn had disappeared.

"Let me bring you about Diagon Alley. There are loads of fun things to explore! I'm Draco. Draco Malfoy, by the way," he cheerfully stated, his cold look immediately changing into a delighted one, as he tugged his new-found friend along.

"I'm…" Harry paused, thinking if he should tell Draco.

"I know you're Harry Potter. Severus only brought out one boy, and that's you. It doesn't matter who you are, as long as you are interested in Quidditch. You should be! It is the greatest sport! Pity none of my friends like it. You like it, don't you?" Draco rambled on, his hands flying everywhere as he spoke. He looked expectantly at Harry when he ended.

Giving a sheepish look, Harry mumbled, pointing a finger at himself, "Brought up by Muggles, remember?"

Draco clapped a hand to his mouth, his eyes horrified as the memory struck him. "Oh! Right. You're such a poor thing, having to stay with those filthy beings. Well, I'll explain everything!"

Harry burst out laughing at Draco's enthusiasm. He supposed that Draco was different from his exterior image; just like him.

Allowing himself to be tugged along with him, Harry wondered why he was making friends with a stranger so easily. It didn't really make sense, since he was often reclusive and hostile to any strangers.

As he watched Draco continuing to explain all the mechanics of the Wizarding World, Harry smiled, feeling something akin to happiness well up in his chest. It didn't matter if he was acting strange. He had found his first human friend, after all.

--

"Wait, Draco. I want to take a look at the bookstore. Is it that one over there?" Harry suddenly said, pointing over to a shop with a sign that stated Flourish and Blotts, where stacks of books piled up near the windows could be seen from the outside. Draco glanced at it, and nodded.

"That's the bookstore, though I don't get why you would want to read books. They are boring," he replied, his face screwing into a scowl.

Harry chuckled, replying, "I don't like to read too, but it is the only place where I will get any information. You don't know everything I need to know anyway. Do you want to come?"

Draco scowled and shook his head fervently. "I will wait for you at Fortescue's alright?"

"Fortescue's?" Harry questioned curiously.

"That's the ice-cream parlour. It's over there," Draco replied breezily, already heading towards that direction.

Harry nodded, and made a shooing action with his hands. Draco flashed a grin before rushing over. 'That ice-cream must be good. I don't think Draco would accept anything substandard,' Harry mused.

Whirling on his heels, Harry stepped towards Flourish and Blotts. He didn't have any money, but he could just browse through. He discreetly pulled up the hem of his robes so that he wouldn't step on them; those robes were pretty hard to get used to.

"Oh Merlin, please stop throwing those books! Those aren't toys!" A near-hysterical shout greeted him when he opened the door.

Deftly catching the book that was thrown in his direction, Harry glared at the offending children; they seemed to be seven or eight. One of the boys who threw that book poked his tongue out at the distraught salesman, before running out of the store, pushing Harry to one side.

Annoyed, Harry took a deep breath and concentrated, searching within himself for his magic. He felt his magic reacting, and the boy's shoelaces rose and tangled up together. Harry choked back a laugh when the boy gave a squeal before falling flat on his face.

Chuckling, he passed the book back to the man, taking the opportunity to ask, "Are there any books relating to magic?"

The man's face lit up, and nodded, pointing enthusiastically towards one shelf. "You're the second one who asked for such books today. The girl who asked before you should be still inside. You should get along well with her." With that, he winked, walking off whistling a jaunty tune.

Harry scowled lightly, wanting to strangle the man. He was only eleven! He walked towards the shelf the man had pointed to, while the small voice in his head suggested several creative ways to murder him. He did not appreciate being told what to do.

Turning round the corner, he spotted the bushy-haired girl first. His eyes narrowed at the clothes she was wearing – Muggle clothing. Harry growled internally at the sight of her, his blood boiling as he remembered his treatment while living the Dursleys and the relentless gossip and insults of his neighbours.

He knew he was being childish, for judging her by the actions of the Muggles he had known, but one thing he agreed with Draco was that Muggles were narrow-minded. They rather destroy than accept anything unnatural like magic. Who knows if this girl was as nasty as the rest of the Muggles, what with her being brought up like a Muggle.

Edging away from her, Harry stayed at the farthest end before grabbing a book. Flipping it open, he immediately noticed the title for the first chapter. Magic.

'The creation of a human has two parts – body and soul, both of which are interconnected, yet independent, able to exist alone, yet stronger when they are together. The body is the shell in which the soul and magic resides, the flesh in which protects the human. The soul is the spirit of the person, where things that define the person, like the personality, memories, magic are contained.

Personality of a person remains unique to every soul, and no one is exactly the same as the other. It is usually molded by circumstances and the people around.

Memories can never be fully erased, but it can be blocked or shattered, which is what the Memory charms do. Obliviate, for example, actually blocks one's memories, and it is possible for the block to be removed if the caster was weak in magical power. The difference in blocking memories and shattering them is that, when blocking, the victim no longer has any form of recollection, while when shattering, the victim might or might not remember little pieces of information, especially emotional memories.

Magic is an integral part of the soul. All beings have magic, be it animals, plants or humans, both Muggles and Wizards. The only difference between Muggles and Wizards is that Wizards are able to tap on their magic and use them in a form of energy, while Muggles are unable to have access to it.'

Harry looked up when he felt someone tapping him on his shoulder. Seeing the girl, he acted out of reflex. Pursing his lips, he asked icily, his tone on the edge of hostility. "What?"

The girl seemed to be startled at his tone, before her brown eyes narrowed and she huffed bossily, "Don't be so rude! I'm merely asking if you would like to read this book. I noticed that you are reading up on magic too, so I assume you're new, like me. This book is great on details of how magic work. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."

Disgust filled him uncontrollably. Did that girl think that she could control him? Clenching his fists tightly, he pulled himself up from his leaning position and sneered at her, stating, "What makes you think I need your help? I can read up on my own."

His whole mind and heart totally rejected the girl, which he attributed to her heritage. He might have wanted to try making friends, but it definitely didn't include people fully related to Muggles. He narrowed his eyes at her, his whole body radiating unfriendliness.

"What's with your arrogant attitude? I'm just trying to help. You should know as much as you can before you go to Hogwarts!" she hissed irately, flicking her bushy hair away from her eyes as she glared at Harry.

Harry glared back, the hostility he felt made him rash, and he immediately rebutted, spouted words without thinking. "I don't need help from a Muggleborn, or a know-it-all," his insulting tone emphasizing his words.

As soon as the words left his mouth, Harry was shocked inwardly. He couldn't believe he just said that. Growing up with people like the Dursleys left him more sensitive towards the behaviours and attitudes of other people. He hardly ever said anything out of spite to people who didn't do a thing to him.

Regret filled him as he saw her deflate rather dejectedly.

She bit her lip and averted her eyes, taking a few steps back. The misery in her eyes was clear though, making Harry's heart clench as he silently berated himself for saying such stuff. It was clear that the girl hated such names. Faint memories of being taunted and scolded rose up in his mind, and he hastily squashed them down.

He saw tears welling up in her eyes as she looked up and suddenly felt a little guilty. She growled, "I…I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to interrupt, but you don't have to be so mean. What do you mean by you don't need a Muggleborn's help? Everyone's equal! Why do you have to be so prejudiced against us? We eat, sleep, study, we do all the same things as you people! Stop being so hostile just because I'm a Muggleborn. As for being a know-it-all, I can't help it, alright?"

She ended her speech on a hysterical note, her eyes wide as she stared at Harry, her bushy hair getting frizzy while her whole frame trembled uncontrollably. She was breathing quickly, her chest heaving up and down, her clothes all disheveled. Fear flickered in her eyes, and Harry recognized it for what it was.

The dejected, furious and scared look she had on her face reminded Harry all too clearly of himself, when he had been bullied, when he had been rejected from play groups and when he was insulted.

He would have walked away from her, but that look stopped him. He wouldn't wish such feelings on anyone, even if she was a Muggleborn.

Harry hesitated before reaching towards her and grasping her shoulder gently, pausing when she flinched. His tone was gentle as he spoke, the apologetic feeling he felt seeping into his words.

"Umm…I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like it is. Ok, so maybe I did for the Muggleborn part. Please forgive me. I…" he had to stop there, and he took a deep breath. He didn't want to say out his whole life story to just anyone out there, but he figured he owed the girl an explanation.

Bracing himself, he spoke again, glazing over the truth. "I'm an orphan, while my relatives whom which take care of me are Muggles, and, well, they aren't really accepting of magic. I…just let my prejudice and spite get hold of me, I suppose."

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to call you a know-it-all. You're just being hardworking and willing to learn, and that isn't a crime."

Harry smiled when she looked into his eyes, searching for something. The misery left her face after a few moments, replaced by slight reassurance. Glad that she cheered up, and feeling less guilty, Harry added the last sentence cheekily in an attempt to make her lighten up, "Plus actually, I admire such qualities, because I personally lack them."

She rolled her eyes, and huffed at him playfully, "I suppose I can forgive you. It isn't your fault to live with such idiotic relatives anyway."

Narrowing her eyes, she added in threateningly, "Though I won't forgive you if you insult me in that way ever again."

Harry burst out laughing, his eyes twinkling with mirth as he said, "Well, I won't forgive myself either."

She paused for a while, before her whole face blushed as she asked shyly, "Can we be friends?"

Seeing Harry's shocked face, she hastily added with a pained face, "It's okay if you don't want to be though, it's really fine. I'm used to be without friends, anyway."

Harry looked at the now fumbling girl, his heart warming as he decided that perhaps befriending a Muggleborn wasn't that bad. After all, she seemed different from any of the Muggles he had met and was rather similar to himself.

It wasn't to say that he could overcome his prejudice towards Muggles in an instant, but he had a feeling that Hermione would grow on him. No, to be honest, he would still hate Muggles and anything related to them, but he supposed Hermione could be an exception.

Giving a light smile, Harry replied, "I would love to be your friend." He squashed any lingering doubt and objection within him.

As Hermione looked at him with a stunned face, he felt that he was right to think that the Wizarding World held a new life for him.

No longer was he going to be oppressed and be pushed around, he could finally act and do things for himself. He would have friends, knowledge, fun and everything that was entitled to him in the first place.

Though…there was a problem. How was he going to explain to Draco about his new-found Muggleborn friend?


Revised: 1/1/10

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- Myxa