Mentality

Warning(s): It's split into two parts. Um, implied abuse.

Beta: CleopatraIsMyName

No. 9

Diagon Alley - Part I

The next day, Harry woke up with a strange sense of foreboding. Something wasn't quite right, and it wouldn't be right for quite a long time.

He replayed what he had dreamt... There was a low, rasping voice. A man. Purple cloth. Deception. Lord.

But, though the sense of wrongness stayed, the dreams slipped away from him, like water through his fingers. Soon enough, there wasn't even a droplet left.

Then the events from yesterday entered his mind, and he turned on his side. He felt excited. Today he would see more of the world he had entered, just days before. It was splendid, fantastic, and awesome.

Smiling brightly, Harry heard the steady footfalls of shoes. Before even seeing her, Harry greeted, "Good morning, Madam Pomfrey!"

Bemusedly, she slid the curtain closed behind her, waving her wand over Harry's thin form. "Good morning, Mister Potter. And how are we this lovely day?"

"Excited," Harry said, "I cannot wait to go to Diagon Alley with Hagrid. It'll be so fun, and new!"

The young raven-haired child's mood was contagious, and the white-haired witch couldn't help but smile at the young lad's enthusiasm. He was positively bouncing, impatient for the burly half-giant to take him over to the Alley.

Her tests came up the same as yesterday, with a slight improvement in his appetite and energy. His near-depleted magical core was back to normal, and he was ready to go.

"Okay, Mister Potter," she started, lowering down her wand, "It seems that you are in a well enough condition to leave the Hospital Wing. Just take it easy, be sure to eat all of your meals, and come back every day for the potions I gave yesterday, hm?"

Harry frowned, a look of revulsion on his face, "Do I have to take that stuff?"

Nodding her head, Madam Pomfrey took two familiar potions from her pocket, "Yes, I noticed that your health was very poor, and you need to take these so that, one day, you'll be stronger."

She took out a spoon, after unbottling the potions, measuring out careful mouthfuls.

Before long, Harry was alone, waiting for Hagrid to come in and take him to Diagon Alley. He didn't have to wait long before the friendly, bearded man slid open the curtains.

"All set to go, 'arry?"

Shaking his head, Harry pointed out that he hadn't had a shower yet, having just remembered the forgotten fact. This caused both Hagrid and Madam Pomfrey to wrinkle their noses, and announce the need for clothes.

Several minutes later, a squeaky-clean Mister Harry Potter was ready to go.

"Ready, Hagrid?" He smiled, rocking back and forth on his heels. The big man grinned back, clapping his hands and rubbing them together.

"All right," he said, "Now, let's get to it, 'arry."

Hagrid lead Harry over to a huge fireplace in the middle of the hospital wing.

"This is called a Floo, 'arry," Hagrid explained, "You use it to move place to place."

He took a big jar that sat atop of the mantle and dumped part of the contents in his hand. His palm now held a fine, black powder.

"This 'ere is Floo Powder," he lowered his palm down to Harry's face, allowing the spectacled boy to examine his hand.

Carefully moving his fingers to close his hand into a fist, he said, "Now, ye just throw this into the Floo, yell ou', 'The Leaky Cauldron, and step into the fireplace."

He had Harry carefully repeat his instructions, and then allowed the boy to take a handful of the powder from the pot.

Winking at Harry, Hagrid went first. "The Leaky Cauldron," he intoned carefully, throwing the powder into the Floo. The fire turned into a dangerous green, mesmerizing Harry in its brilliance. Hagrid then walked into the fireplace, disappearing in a flash. After the flash, the flames of the fireplace turned back into their normal red-orange.

Blinking, Harry took a deep breath, and repeated Hagrid's actions.

"The Leaky Cauldron," he cried, hesitatingly walking into the fireplace.

He felt some sort of constriction, then found he was stumbling out of a fireplace, right into Hagrid's body.

"Oof," Harry grunted, regaining his balance and righting himself. The boy tried his best to pat off the powder that he could see on his clothes.

Hagrid turned around, chuckling at his predicament. "It's alright, 'arry, it'll come off soon 'nough."

The chatter in the bar halted to a stop at the sound of Harry's name, and he swiftly raised his head. Everyone had their mouths wide open, slack-jawed.

Then, as sudden as the silence, the other people within the shabby pub started to chatter all-at-once, whispering louder than Harry thought they were aware of.

"Is that-?"

"Dear Merlin-"

"I thou-"

"Potter...""

A woman wearing a hat walked up to him, smiling broadly, eyes crinkling at the sides. She held out her hand, which Harry hesitatingly took, and shook it several times. "It is such a pleasure to finally meet you, Mister Potter. My name is Doris Crockford!"

She seemed a bit over-enthusiastic and Harry cautiously backed away from her, unnerved.

Turning, another man hurried over to the boy, holding out his own hand. When Harry grasped it, the man immediately began to babble about who he was, and of how he was so lucky to have finally met the "Famous Mister Potter".

As soon as the man, Dedalus Diggle, had had his fill of Harry's presence, another man walking up to him.

He was dressed a bit more oddly than the rest, what with the large, purple turban wrapped around his forehead and the back of his head.

That sense of foreboding came back like a slap in a face. Harry edged slowly away from the strange man.

But then he was talking to him, and Harry had no reason to deny him this other than a mere feeling.

Hagrid looked between Harry and the strange man, before placing a hand on Harry's shoulder and introducing him to the man.

"'Arry, this is Professor Quirrell," Hagrid said, "He teaches a class called Defense Against the Dark Arts at 'ogwarts."

Harry nodded towards the man, while trying to edge away from him subtly. There wasn't something right about the man. He made Harry simultaneously feel scared and angry. It frightened him, the intensity of the emotions he felt.

"Professor Quirrell thi' 'ere boy is 'arry Potter."

Nodding, Professor Quirrell looked down at him, then turned around and walked away.

Harry tried his best to smile up at Hagrid, but he was unable to. It was as if the professor's presence had done something to him. He no longer felt as happy, but rather on the defense. As if the professor were about to attack him at any second.

Confusedly, Harry looked up at Hagrid and said, "Hagrid, why was everyone so happy to see me?"

"I'll tell ye later, 'arry," Hagrid apologized, "I forgot ye didn't know nothing about this world."

Harry took the apology and made a note to remind Hagrid later. After all, the man had forgotten once. He'd probably forget again.

Squaring his shoulders, Harry ignored the stares and whispers, choosing instead to listen to Hagrid explain where they were, and where they were headed.

Hagrid steers him towards a wall at the back of the pub, and takes out his umbrella. Harry just shakes his head at the absurdity of such a large object fitting inside a robe pocket.

Tapping on the wall, Hagrid mutters something inaudible, and Harry hears a sound. The wall, oddly enough, suddenly had a rather large hole in it, which then grew and grew until there wasn't even a wall there anymore.

And Harry gets his first glance of Diagon Alley.

It's delightful in its brilliance. People left and right were wearing those odd clothes, and there were shops lining the paved walkway.

Everyone was so happy and peaceful, and it felt so magical. Harry felt he was where he belonged, as if a small part of him knew he didn't belong with his aunt and uncle, and now he was here, and he was just... content.

Harry beamed broadly, and his skin had a bit of an ethereal glow to it. His utter happiness seemed to spill out and bubble, and he was giggling at his heightened emotions.

Hagrid just smiled and explained what a few of the shops were, while Harry asked questions about what that was, and where they were going to go first, and oh, Hagrid, may we please go there?

Then Harry found himself in front of a snowy white, tall building called Gringott's.

"We are 'ere to get ye money," Hagrid explained, opening the door for the small child and allowing Harry passage before him.

He rushed him to the front of the large bank, and there was this odd, strange creature looking at them.

'Goblin,' a voice in Harry's head spoke, like last time. He shook his head and grinned up at the strange cr-, goblin. It gave an eerie smile back, all teeth.

Hagrid raised a single brow, surprised by the exchange, but didn't comment on it. Instead, he cleared his throat a little, and said, "We're 'ere to access 'arry Potter's vault."

The goblin nodded its head, Conjuring a quill pen and writing down the request on a piece of parchment.

"Key?" He asked, holding out a small hand that looked to be more nail than flesh, by the sheer length of them.

Hagrid smiled sheepishly, patting his pockets and digging his hands within them. Harry heard some odd noises of metal, and was that a frog, before Hagrid finally took out a single, brass key.

The goblin nodded his head and called for another one named Griphook.

Hagrid looked sideways at Harry, then leaned in a bit closer to the goblin, muttering something about needing to go to vault number seven thirteen for Albus Dumbledore.

The goblin nods slowly, and tells Griphook that, too.

Griphook then beckons them towards a large metal door and it opens, revealing a dark hallway. It seems to be leading underground, as there are torches lining on the walls the entire way down.

They stop in front of a large mine cart, and Hagrid gets in it, looking vaguely uncomfortable at the tight squeeze. Harry sits in front with Griphook, grinning at the goblin, happy to notice he got one back.

The goblin looks at Harry and says, "You might want to hold on tightly."

Nodding nervously, Harry hangs on to the side and front with a hand each, bracing for the start.

And he was right to. He shut his eyes tightly, struggling not to yell at the break-neck speeds of the cart. By the time the ride ended, Harry was disoriented and reluctant to try that again

Hagrid stands swiftly, waiting to regain his footing, then walks quickly to the vault door.

While he is gone, Harry asks the goblin, "How do you handle that every time?"

The goblin just smirks in an odd way, "Well, you get used to it after a century or so."

Harry's emerald eyes widen, shocked at the age of the goblin. "You're that old? Does it get boring, living for that long?"

Pondering on the question, the goblin shakes its head, "No, not really. While it may seem to, a goblin's perception of time is different from a wizard's. The days and nights seem shorter to us, and we age rather slowly."

Harry absorbed the new knowledge, then smiles brightly. "Do you like your job?"

"Yes, I rather do. Every few decades or so, I meet a special child such as yourself. In fact, I had met another one about four years ago."

Blinking, Harry enthusiastically asked, "What's his name?"

"Draco Malfoy," the goblin answered, face bright at the mere mention of the boy "In fact, I think he is starting his first year at Hogwarts, like you are.

"Though," the goblin frowned, "The child is forced to hide his intelligence and kind heart behind an arrogant mask. Shame, he is positively delightful."

Before Harry could comment on the goblin's response, Hagrid came out of the vault, holding a small, bulky package.

He quickly stuffs it in his pocket, avoiding Harry's questioning eyes and sits back in the cart, looking pained.

Harry braced himself again, closing his eyes and waiting for the cart to start again.

When it's over, and they come out of the cart to walk to the vault door, Harry isn't just a little glad to know that he only has to ride it once more.

The goblin uses the key to open the huge door, stepping back to allow the boy and large man to walk inside.

Harry gasps when he sees all the coins piled in the center of the large vault, the amount astounding to him, a boy who has thought his parents poor for years.

Glancing around, not seeing anything else of interest, he walked over to the hill of coins, picking up three different ones. He then proceeds to look up curiously at Hagrid and asks, "Hagrid, what are these coins called?"

"Well, 'arry," the burly man said, crouching down, "The little bronze coins are Knuts. The medium-sized silver coins are Sickles, and the large gold coins are Galleons.

"There are twenty-nine Knuts in a Sickle, seventeen Sickles in a Galleon, and four-hundred ninety-three Knuts in a Galleon."

Nodding his head, Harry thought on this information, before shaking his head. He'd ask again later.

Hagrid took out a bag and Harry scooped handfuls of coins in it until it was full. Then, Hagrid tied it closed and stuffed it in his other robe pocket.

When they left the bank, there seemed to be more people there than earlier, and Harry was surprised by how many wizards and witches were in this part of Britain alone.

As they passed by a small dark alleyway to get to Fortescue's, an ice cream parlor that Hagrid had told Harry about, Harry felt a sudden tug.

He stood stock still, face pale. Then he turned and ran into the alleyway, ignoring Hagrid's cries for him to stop.

The tug came again, and Harry felt some sort of call for help. It was vague and whimpering and sad and so desperate that he couldn't ignore, even if he was able to.

Then, he saw it. There was a boy and a man. The man had the same flaxen hair as the boy, pointing a wand at him and talking too low for Harry to hear. The boy, however, heard. His face was drawn tightly and he seemed to be fighting off tears.

As the man waved his wand a bit, the boy gasps and scrambles against the wall.

"I'm sorry, Father," the boy whimpered, pleading, "Please, I'm sorry!"

"What have I said about talking to dirty Mudbloods?" The man calmly asked when Harry got closer.

"T-that they were below me and that should I ever forget about it, that you would make remember..." The boy slumped against the wall, resigned to whatever punishment his father would inflict on him.

Then Harry saw him raise his wand, mouth open to incant something, and he just couldn't stand there and let it happen. The call was too strong, and the need to protect the other boy was there, gnawing at him.

Taking a deep breath, Harry worked on instinct, and screamed. His body was taut and stiff and he worked his powerful lungs. The man ducked his head, dropping his wand in the process, slamming the palms of his hands over his ears.

The boy looked over at Harry incredulously, pale-grey eyes wide. Before long, the boy's father was unconscious on the ground, ears bleeding.

Harry walked over to the flaxen-haired boy slowly, not wanting to scare him.

"H-hello?" The boy asked, uncertainly.

"Hi, are you okay?" Harry questioned, checking him over for any bruises or cuts.

The boy nodded his head tightly, swallowing hard. "Who are you?"

"Harry Potter."

It took the boy a second to realize who he was, and then he was hyperventilating dangerously. "H-harry Potter?"

Harry, once again allowing instinct to guide him, clutched the pale boy's hands tightly to his chest, eyes shut. He worked to channel and project feelings of calm to the boy.

When the other child was calm, eyes dry and posture straighter, a hand was thrust towards Harry.

"My name is Draco Malfoy," the flaxen-haired boy introduced himself, "And I do believe I owe you a debt."

"A-a debt?" Harry asked, taking Draco's hand. He felt the tug lessen until it was near non-existent, helping him to relax slightly. "I don't understand what you mean."

"Well," Draco started, "A debt i-"

He was cut off when Hagrid finally made his way towards them, panting and wheezing.

"Ha-" he tried to say. Then he placed his hands on his knees, bending over to catch his breath.

Once he was done, Hagrid said, "'arry, why did ye run off like that?"

Harry just raised his eyebrows and pointed towards Draco's father on the ground.

Then Hagrid rubbed a hand on his face and asked, "What'd ya do to Mister Malfoy?"

"I'm not really sure," Harry said, "Just know that his ear drums are shattered."

Hagrid was unable to even comprehend what he had just heard. Instead, he just nodded, walking over to pick the man up. That's when he noticed Draco standing there, leaning against the wall.

"And ye would be 'is son?"

Draco nodded quickly, then looked away from Hagrid, not willing to acknowledge the precarious position he had been found in.

Harry noticed Draco was trembling against the wall, though barely, and embraced him, allowing him the comfort that only a hug could bring. But seeing as this was his own first hug, he was disconcerted by the closeness of the boy. The hug was awkward, but it helped both boys recover from the fright.

Hagrid handed Harry some Galleons from his vault bag, "Go get yerselves some ice cream while I take 'im to Saint Mungo's."

And with that, the two boys were left alone.

Harry peeked at Draco from underneath his fringe, and then smiled broadly.

"Let's go and get some ice cream, yeah?"

Draco smiled sadly at Harry and walked back towards the rest of Diagon Alley, leading Harry to Fortescue's.

Author's Note:

I wrote waaaaay too much. Is this chapter any good? I feel like I rushed their meeting. I'll explain what is going on in later chapters, don't you worry about that.

I think my writing style is evolving a bit.

Review, please?