Whispers in Harry's Head
A:N: Haha! I bet you read the previous chapter and thought 'There's no way this chap is ever going to update this story.' Alas, I have indeed stuck to my word. It may have taken some time, but here it is. I'm very much devoted to this one, but I've got some terribly buggery news. I won't be updating this story until May time. I finish my exams on the 30th of April. I have my birthday on the same day as Emma Watson (15th of April), but unfortunately I shan't be celebrating it until May as I have an exam the day after (the 16th). I'm turning 20 :). I'm starting a job, for a year, in London working in the Financial Services sector in June - so I will be a little more devoted to this story during that time. Or maybe the sector will consume my life - unlikely.
This chapter is a little more setup, but I found it quite fun. I hope you do too. A comment/like/favourite/follow, or whatever tickles your fancy, are all really fantastic! I appreciate them all, and endeavour to respond to any review that you send. Although don't expect a response until May! Please follow the Story, follow myself, or both, to get updates about me posting chapters. If you do leave a review, I might even respond in the next chapter!
But, marvelously indeed, you are here to read Chapter 3 and not to listen to me ramble on about my jolly good life.
Note: Italics represent 'the voice' thinking/talking inside of his head.
In the future bold italics will represent parseltongue.
In the future underlined italics will represent Harry's thoughts – yet that will be infrequent.
Enjoy…
The Lady in Emerald
Through the many years of Tom and Harry talking together, further incidents of similar kind happened. Although none were quite as odd as that day of the Zoo. There were other isolated incidents where Harry caused accidents to happen, and people remembered those. They were always passed off as something mysterious, weird, or, as his Aunt and Uncle used to say, freakish business. He started to get punishments after that time in the Zoo, he got locked in his cupboard.
Yet it wasn't until sometime during the Summer Holiday's, a few weeks before Harry's eleventh birthday, that something very particular happened. He received a letter.
Tom had been talking about this moment for a couple of years now, and Harry was sure that Tom had been crazy – as he often thought. Tom had been talking about this letter for years and, the more he ranted on about it the less it seemed likely. Yet Tom insisted, and assured, that during this Summer he would be receiving his letter at last, that he would be going to a magic school. So, when Harry was doing his daily chore of grabbing the post from the mat at the front door step, it came as a shock that his letter had arrived.
Alas, the day has arrived! We shall head to Diagon Alley immediately. Tom announced. We've gone through the plan on multiple occasions.
But Tom, your plan won't work. We've gone through this before. We're in Surrey, and it's too far away from London. Harry sighed.
Which is why we have been saving money. Tom retorted.
We haven't got enough saved for a taxi Tom, we're talking about an eighty-pound taxi fare.
Shit – the Knightbus would cost no more than a galleon! Around five pounds!
"BOY – where is my post?" Vernon shouted. "You know I do not like waiting!"
Hide it, and we'll discuss this later.
"Coming Uncle!" Harry shouted
Harry stuffed the letter into his trouser pocket. For a boy his age and size, it should not be able to fit. Fortunately, he was wearing his cousins hand me downs, Dudley was much larger than he. When he put the letter into his pocket, he rushed into the Kitchen and handed Uncle Vernon the letters.
We might have to wait until my Uncle needs to visit London.
The Dark Lord will not wait.
That's another thing that Tom was constantly talking about. How he was a Dark Lord. It sounded like fiction to Harry, but it explained a lot about his life. Why he ended up with his Aunt and Uncle, why he had a scar on his forehead, why he could talk to Tom, but, most importantly, how he could do all this magic.
Tom had told him long ago how he killed his parents, and how the scar of trying to kill Harry left an imprint on Harry – where Tom could communicate with him. Tom explained thoroughly why it had to happen, they were in a war. They were attacking the Dark Lord, and he snapped back. What was not clear was why Tom attacked Harry as a baby. But it made Tom angry when Harry questioned it, and Harry didn't like Tom when he was angry. He also explained his cause, and Harry understood much of it. He had seen the muggles for what they were, and he was not impressed. There was one muggle who Harry had ever grown to trust, and that was Miss Green. Yet even she could not understand how, and it still troubled Harry how she forgot about that night – yet it troubled Tom more.
Tom was convinced that Dumbledore had sent someone to look after Harry, he didn't believe for a moment that he would leave him solely with his Aunt and Uncle. There would have to be a clause to ensure they didn't dump him, or leave him completely mistreated, and that is where Tom began to suspect Mrs. Figg. For a start, she had quite the peculiar name – Arabella Figg. Secondly, she was the type. She was an eccentric lady of sorts, and although she was quite old she was a little bit better on her feet. Thirdly, she had regularly contact with the boy. Every so often they had an opportunity to speak to one another, and for her to deduce his health and wellbeing. But there was a problem, if she was a wizard, of any significant importance, someone important enough to look after Harry, Tom would have remembered her.
Harry was staying with Mrs. Figg that evening, while Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley were out for dinner to celebrate Dudley being accepted to his new school. After a while, when he had settled down and looked at some of the pictures of her cats, Harry took out the letter from his trouser pocket and looked at it curiously.
"Mrs. Figg, I received this letter this morning. It was quite peculiar. I didn't want to ask my Aunt and Uncle, you see, they wouldn't understand. I never get any letters." Harry recited, as it was rehearsed.
The lady would usually have shouted at him for asking silly little questions, but once she had heard word of a letter she was paying very close attention. She rushed out of the kitchen, where she was making a horrible Shephard's pie for dinner, and came up to Harry snatching it out of his hand. She stared at the letter for quite some time, sat down on her armchair, and sighed. A tear was in her eye.
"I remember the excitement of the Summer after my eleventh birthday." She began. "Mummy promised me that I would soon receive my letter, but it never came. Well congratulations Harry, indeed. Why the school didn't send a professor given your… circumstances… I am quite surprised. Not to worry, I will send an owl in the morning. However, open your letter and have a look."
That evening was one of the best evenings that Harry had spent with Mrs. Figg. For once, she wasn't as temperamental as she always was. She told Harry stories about her parents for the first time. Real stories about her life, her ancestry, and everything she knew about magic. She explained the possibilities of what was yet to come, the great feats that Harry could achieve. While she was explaining, she felt bitter. All she ever dreamt about was the day she would receive her letter, the day she could cast a spell – but the chance of that life was behind her.
"What did you say your name was?" Mr Dursley grumbled at the woman wearing an emerald cloak, slightly grey bushy hair and square glasses. She carried a rather stern look.
She mused her lips and looked at him as if he was stupid, "My name is Professor McGonagall, I am here to talk to Mr. Potter – as I am assured he is aware, I am here to take him shopping for his first year of Hogwarts."
"HOGWARTS?!" Mr Dursley exclaimed, "There will be none of that freakish business in my house! OUT OF MY HOUSE!"
"I want to go" Harry spoke with a chill from behind Vernon, who didn't realise he was there.
"I don't care where you want to go!"
"Well I do," the Professor snapped back. She took her wand out and pointed it directly at Mr Dursley, who very quickly stepped backwards and out of her path.
The Professor stepped into the house, and Harry very kindly brought her into the living room. It had been emptied as soon as Harry had opened the door. Harry took a seat on the armchair that was reserved for his uncle, but the Professor continued to stand.
The hag, Tom drawled. That's one of Dumbledore's followers. She left you here. She was there the night that he placed you on the doorstep of these fowl Muggles
The Professor took a deep breath and began to speak. "Good Afternoon Mr. Potter, I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Head of Gryffindor House, and will be teaching you Transfiguration, at Hogwarts. I was certain before I arrived that you would know about Hogwarts, but it seems there is a chance that this might not be the case. I am here to answer any questions you may have."
"I do not know very much about Hogwarts, they told me nothing. However, I can learn that as we go along. I believe I know enough." Harry replied matter-of-factly, but perfectly pleasantly. "It's a pleasure to meet you Professor. I do have one question, why was I sent here to live with these people – people who obviously hate me?"
"That's a… mystery I will leave for the Headmaster to explain." She began and sighed. "Well then, we're going to have to bring you to Diagon Alley to purchase all of your school equipment and supplies!"
"So, he knew this was happening?" Harry stared at her
"I wish I could tell what goes on in that man's head, Mr. Potter." She dodged the question expertly.
"But did you know." He raised his eyebrow.
I've taught you well, Harry. I didn't even have to prompt you this time.
"I had my… reservations about sending you here. That's all I know." She conceded. "Now let's get back onto our visit to Diagon Alley"
"Where is that, and how do we get there?" Harry asked with an eager smile, as if the last minute of conversation had not happened.
"Why, we will travel by floo powder of course!" the Professor chirped up. "You will stand in the fireplace, take some floor powder in your hands, exclaim 'Diagon Alley' very clearly, and drop the powder."
It was rudimentary for the students of muggle born families to travel by floo network on their first day. The Ministry had a temporary system, as travelling by other methods would take too long – and during the Summer they had a particularly strict deadline. Professor McGonagall, and on some busy years, another member of staff, had to visit every muggle born first year student, explain magic, convince the families it was true, and to bring them to Diagon Alley. It would be the first time in the history of Hogwarts that a teacher had to introduce a child from such an Ancient family.
Harry listened to the rest of the instructions, and, with a little bit of advice from Tom, embarked on his first trip by floo powder. It was successful. The flames brought him painlessly to an archway in the centre of the city. Right behind him was the Professor, clutching her robes as she graced into the vision from the green flames.
"Now, come along now." She spoke rather upbeat, and with a sense of haste. "We've got many shops to attend to, and the bank to be one of them."
"But I haven't got very much money." Harry strode behind her, as she brushed easily through the crowds of people.
"What do you think your mother and father left you, dear boy?" She looked back to make sure he was still following correctly.
"So… I own all of that?" Harry repeated. He almost shouted with surprise as they were walking away from the bank. He said it with such triumph.
Harry took out quite a lot of money. He was lucky that he could purchase coin purses, which were bigger on the inside, from the Goblins – otherwise his pockets would play a merry tune as he walked through the streets of Diagon Alley. He had also exchanged a small portion of his coins into Great British Pounds, so that he could return home if he desired, have a place for the night, or purchase new clothes of his own before he started school.
"Yes, Mr Potter, indeed you do. How wonderful!" She said delightfully sarcastically. "Now to buy your potion supplies. How about we get some ice-cream from Florean Fortescue's, and lastly buy your robes from Madam Malkin's?"
"Sounds like a great idea." Harry smiled. "Wait a minute… Florean Fortescue, Madam Malkin. What is your first name, Professor?"
"That's not a very polite thing to ask, Mr Potter. If you must know, I am Minerva McGonagall."
"What is this obsession with alliteration?" Harry Potter asked rather annoyed.
"What in Godrick Gryffindors name are you–?" The Professor abruptly paused for a moment, making a very sharp realisation. "Never mind."
They blasted through the list of things they needed, starting with potion supplies, and eventually ending with getting his books and robes. When Harry convinced the Professor that he would be safe to get the rest of his things alone, as the Professor was quite eager to see another pupil before the day ended, he immediately went in search of a wand. They agreed to meet again at the Leaky Cauldron at six o'clock sharp.
The merchant, Mr. Ollivander, could remember every single wand that he ever sold. He had a strange facial expression as he described the wand that Harry took – curious indeed. Harry picked up his books next, and extra useful spell books – some Tom encouraged were darker than others. He collected an array of books, including a rather interesting book titled 'Easy Spells to Fool Muggles'. It may just prove it's worth.
As Harry was purchasing his books, he suddenly began to realise the depth of knowledge that he would need to cram in during his final weeks of Summer. It was there that he decided that it would be impossible for him to do this at home with the Dursley's, he would require alternative suitable accommodation for the duration of Summer. Tom disagreed entirely, but Harry was insistent that he wanted to have his first wizarding Summer now. It would be the best one yet.
"Excuse me, sir" Harry spoke to a tall blonde-haired man who was searching for a book through a dusty bookshelf on the second floor of the shop.
The man briefly glanced at the Harry before stepping aside and allowing him to pass. To the man, Harry seemed strangely familiar. Yet he had most definitely not seen the boy before. He is not the kind of person to forget a face, nor a name.
It couldn't be.
"I was just looking for the Standard Charms textbook for First-Years" the tall man made polite conversation with the boy. Lucius reached out to one of the upper shelves, but paused and looked at Harry. "Do you require a copy as well?"
"Yes please!" Harry smiled, and took the book of his hand.
"I'm Lucius Malfoy, by the way." He put his hand out after Harry had stored away the book.
Harry shook it and replied. "Harry Potter. It's been nice talking to you, Mr. Malfoy."
"You know…" Lucius began without a change in his tone from hearing the name, "I notice you haven't bought your robes yet, my son Draco is currently getting his fitted. Shall we pay for these and head on our way?"
Harry hesitated. Although the Dursley's never told him, he had quickly been taught from television advertisements, and teachers in school that 'one must never talk to strangers'. This man was different. With some strange combination he both commanded and frightened a room, yet could display a warm side to those he wanted to. It was that, and the irksome enthusiasm that Tom had to follow him. So, Harry did. It was the next shop across, and so their conversation was brief. Lucius found willpower in his soul to forgo asking the personal questions he so longed to have answered.
Harry stepped into Madam Malkin's shop to purchase his robes last. Theoretically, he would get the most value for his money if he purchased these last. He was a growing boy, and not going to shrink any time soon. It was then that he came across a curious blonde-haired boy. He was sitting rather impatiently in the back, as a witch tailored his robes to him. His eyes were immediately drawn to his Father as he stepped into the shop with a strange boy. To his Father, Draco looked confused. To Harry, Draco made a very slight change in facial expression – almost unnoticeable.
"Hogwarts too, dear?" The large short lady called over from behind the counter.
"Yes, please" Harry said as he took a seat beside the blonde-haired boy.
"I thought it would be best if I were to introduce both of you," Lucius smiled at his son and gawked a commanding glare. "Harry, I would like for you to meet my son Draco Malfoy. Draco, this is Harry Potter."
Draco almost leaped out of his stool, if it weren't for the fabric and the witch holding him down. He shoved his hand out so that he could shake it. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"And I you." Harry smiled back and shook his hand proudly.
"So, who are you with today?" Draco asked noticing that no one else followed them inside.
"Well, I was with a witch named Professor McGonagall. I am seeing her again at six o'clock in the Leaky Cauldron – she wants to bring me back home." Harry sighed, "I live with my Aunt and Uncle, they're muggles. Horrible people."
Lucius raised an eyebrow at that. He approved of his distain. However, he stood looking outside the window of the shop watching people passing by as he listened to the boys' converse.
"You live with Muggles? That's ridiculous!" Draco almost snapped. He would have snapped but his Father was there. "Any wizarding family in Britain would have taken you in, in fact I believe we're cousins."
I told you Harry. Tom spoke faintly and soothingly. I know you had your hesitations about what I said, but now you're talking to people who can lead you on the way to greatness. The Muggles are horrible.
"Yeah… they are bad. I actually did some research, and in the seventeenth century Muggles burned witches!" Harry exclaimed.
"They weren't witches." Lucius spoke for the first time. "It's ironic, actually. They were so afraid of magic that almost every single person they killed was a Muggle. Witches and wizards are much too smart to get caught."
Harry almost laughed at it, but Draco began a new topic quickly enough. "Wait a minute, does this mean you know nothing about Quidditch?"
"Quidditch?" Harry sounded confused.
Blasted Quidditch. What is people's obsession with Quidditch?!
Of course, Draco said everything he could about Quidditch. He explained the rules of the game, the different positions, and the art of the strategy. Harry couldn't quite believe that flying on broomsticks was an actual thing that people could do. He was quite surprised that it was a sport! How cliché.
He tried to remain enthusiastic and appear to be listening intently, when all he could hear was Tom in his head dismissing the sport as ridiculous. And another thing! He ranted on. The seeker gets 150 points? What's the point in the other positions if the seeker always just wins it?
Harry, of course, didn't provide the criticism that Tom would. He was much too interested in how the boy spoke about the sport with such passion.
"We would have to invite you around some time to play it, Harry." Lucius turned around sharply from the window.
"What a brilliant idea, Father!" Draco exclaimed, before he reigned his enthusiasm in.
"Sounds like a great idea." Harry smiled, as the witch finished tailoring his robes and he left the stool.
The door swung open, and a young girl walked in. She had a lot of bushy brown hair, a bossy sort of voice, brown eyes, and pale skin. She walked in front of the familiar Professor McGonagall, who had been walking with Harry earlier. Professor McGonagall took one look at Lucius Malfoy, before being rather surprised to see Harry standing by the counter and paying for his robes.
"Professor McGonagall," Harry greeted again.
Draco Malfoy also quickly finished his tailoring as they were walking in, and he immediately went up towards the girl and thrusted his hand out. "I'm Draco Malfoy, and you are?"
"Hermione Granger" she replied gleefully as she went to accept his handshake.
In all honesty, Hermione had never been so welcomed to a new community before. In her old primary school, she wasn't very much liked by the other children. Mostly because of her know-it-all attitude, and her reputation for being a bit of a "bossy-boots". To finally be where she belonged, in a community of her own, she was very much pleased.
Yet, as per all good things, it was cut short. Before Hermione could accept the handshake, the young Malfoy had retracted his hand and stared at her with a rather different looking face. A face of confusion, a face of disbelief, a face of pensive.
"I can't think of any Granger's." the young Malfoy thought to himself.
Lucius Malfoy agreed. "Nor can I"
"That's because there aren't any other wizarding Granger's." Hermione smiled boastfully, as if she just got an A-Star on an exam. "I'm the first. Mummy and Daddy were ever so proud when they found out that I was witch. Of course, they always knew I was special. They just couldn't put their finger on it."
"You parents are muggles?" Harry asked extremely confused at this stage.
"Muggle born." Draco spoke almost instantly. He would have used another word, but not in front of his future Professor, Father, and a new friend.
"I suppose, yes. I am." Hermione could start to feel the animosity in the room. It was beginning to make her feel uncomfortable. She was starting to back out of the room, before she bumped into Professor McGonagall. She was standing directly behind her, blocking easy access to the door.
"This is exactly the sort you don't want to be mixing with Harry." Malfoy sneered. "I can help you there."
"I think Mr Potter can judge the wrong sort for himself," the Professor piped up rather sternly. She was rather much more serious this time, any sense of excitement that she once had disappeared. She finished rather imperatively. "I expect to see you at the Leaky Cauldron at six o'clock, sharp."
"Yes, Professor." Harry replied.
He felt a great big hole in his stomach. He remembered that, back in Primary School, the shoe was on the other foot. He was hoping to feel welcome, and then Dudley came along and ruined his friendships. He felt awful for failing to stick up for Hermione, and for a moment he looked at her in the eyes and saw disappointment and a sort of acquiescence. She was resigned to the fact that life wasn't changing as she expected for it to. For the first time it wasn't for her pure intelligence, or her attitude, or her personality. It was something that she couldn't control.
Don't even think for a moment about staying, Harry. Tom assured him. She'll get over it, you don't need to worry about her. You don't need to worry about anyone but yourself, and the best way to unlock your potential is to associate yourself with the right people. That's the Malfoy's.
Harry understood this, and headed for the door. He followed the Malfoy's to a little restaurant that was just a five-minute walk from the Leaky Cauldron. He wanted to avoid any further confrontation. He would see the Professor in just under an hour.
"You know what?" Draco broke the awkward silence after they ordered their food. "Personally, I don't understand why they let that sort into Hogwarts."
Harry made an uncomfortable pursing of the lips and said, "What do you mean? She seemed alright."
"Well, what if they exposed us to the Muggles?" Draco made a fair point. "With everyone marrying into Muggle families, it only takes for one person to Marry the wrong sort and for them to tell the world! Or even worse, for their parents to boast about their child becoming a wizard."
Harry agreed. Growing up with Muggles, he saw their aversion to magic. He saw their utter distaste for anything different, anything unusual, anything freakish. "The Muggles I live with hated magic." Harry almost snarled, he wouldn't call them family. "There was a time when they actually tried to 'stomp the magic out'."
Lucius' eyes, for the first time in his life, almost shot out of his eye sockets. This information was much too useful, much too good, and much too incriminating. He could have an entire lawsuit against Dumbledore and the Child Protection services for child negligence. This would be entirely useful for his politics, and the campaigns against the Muggle-borns.
"You know…" Lucius spoke up. "If you think about, Muggle-borns are just as bad as Muggles. They're the offspring, and Muggles themselves are entirely lacking in magic. So what use is a child that has been created from two unmagical beings? Their magic would be very limited. Their understanding of our ways is foreign. They are undesirable. How did they get this magic? Perhaps they stole it…
"Whereas someone who has been born from many generations of magical beings have a much more magical bloodline. Their power is pure, and can be traced back by many generations. Their understanding, culture, and worth is based entirely around magic – and therefore have the incentives and inspiration to see the betterment of magical people. Where do the loyalties lie of those who are Muggle-born? With the magical community, or with their family in the Muggle community? If we look at the wizards of today vs historic wizards, greater feats and accomplishments were made back in the day. All our greatest wizards were people like Merlin, the four founders of Hogwarts, and many great wizards throughout the years. Today's wizards are less pure, and clearly less powerful.
"As the Black house motto states… 'always pure'. They were one of the most powerful and influential families in History, because they remained pure. They had their problems, like many families do, but they are not lacking in heirs that could bring their family back to the long-standing position it ought to have. You could bring the Potters back to its longstanding strong position as an Ancient and Noble House."
"How do I do that?" Harry asked.
"Well, the technicalities of that we can discuss… later. I have some research to do, and the Potters always will have the great influence of the Malfoy family behind them if the Malfoy's have the influence of the Potters behind the them. All you have to do is ask for my help, and it will be done."
Do it.
"Will you help me Mr Malfoy?" Harry asked as he put his knife and fork down.
"Why of course, the pleasure is mine." Lucius made a rather victorious smile. "I am sure you know what to do for now, and Draco will always be by your side to guide you through the laborious complications of pureblood life – especially in school. However, in the politest way Mr Potter, you really need to freshen up on your etiquette lessons. I was not impressed with the way you ate your food, some of your mannerisms, your posture, all can be improved. Plus, there is a lot for you to learn about the magical community before you go to Hogwarts.
He procured a good number of books and placed them on the table. "I had my House elves fetch these. I believe you fill find them useful. Part of my help requires you reading these by the end of Summer. Some are on etiquette, others on pureblood traditions, and the rest an assortment of items on Family History, Magical History, Family Lines, Ministry Politics, and on the great need to get so-called Ministry labelled 'dark magic' back into the libraries of magical families up and down the country."
Harry picked up the many books, and put them in his case – where he stored the rest of his books. "How am I to read all of these?" He asked incredulously as he continued to store them.
"I have highlighted the ones you need to read first, some on politics and history can be read after the Holiday's – but some sort of rudimentary understanding of each topic is required. Obviously, you're not going to become an expert on something reading a couple of books, though." Lucius chuckled to himself. The thought that anyone could just read a book and become an expert was silly, it required application before someone could really understand something. Lucius was someone of the sort who did have that experience, although sometimes unsuccessful. "A business person does not become an expert by reading a book. To become a business person they become an entrepreneur, and gain experience by starting a business. Reading all the books in the world could not make you a business person. In the same vein, as you may learn in your time at Hogwarts, reading all the magical books in the world will not make you a good wizard."
"I understand." Harry agreed, before noticing the time. They should soon leave. "I believe we should head off to the leaky cauldron, now."
"You will not be returning to the Muggles." Lucius stated matter-of-factly. "The Malfoy Manor is always welcome to you, Mr. Potter. However, I think it best that you remain near Diagon Alley. I shall accompany you, and we will look about a room in the Leaky Cauldron over the Summer. It will give you a chance to… get a new wardrobe. I'm sure I could find someone to accompany you for that. Perhaps a chance for you to meet my wife, and your cousin, Narcissa Malfoy."
"I have a cousin?" Harry smiled.
"Of course. If you buy an owl first thing tomorrow, we can organise a time next week – and you can test out your new etiquette lessons with her." Lucius suggested.
After Lucius insisted he paid for the meal, they headed off to The Leaky Cauldron. On the way Lucius explained the moving bricks, and how the Leaky Cauldron was a good access point to the Muggle world. It was interesting to see how Lucius moved through the crowds of people with an air of importance and grace. People would move out of their way for this man, and he brought those with him through the crowd.
They arrived at the Leaky Cauldron at exactly six. Not a second later, nor a second too soon. The Professor was waiting for them in the far corner booth, and she had Hermione beside her. Harry took a seat, and carried all his things, while the other two Malfoy's stood – they didn't expect to stay very long. Hermione tried her best not to look frightened, she looked rather indifferent of the others.
"Afternoon, Professor." Harry smiled as he took a seat.
"I was wondering if you would like something to have something to eat before we left?" The Professor had a brittle smile. She would want to take that opportunity to explore his day – but more importantly about the Malfoy's.
"No, thank you Professor." Harry spoke lazily. "We just had something to eat around the corner."
"Alas, then it is time I brought you back to your Aunt and Uncle." She resigned and stood up.
"Professor, I don't want to do that. I want to stay in the Leaky Cauldron for the rest of the Summer." Harry spoke honestly, there wasn't a sound of doubt in his voice.
"A boy of your age? Mr Potter, you will return to your guardians." She retorted.
"Excuse me Professor, I don't believe I will. If you would do one favour for me, I ask for you to do this. As part of me staying here, just for the Summer, I want you to find something for me at the Dursley's. Just something small. I want you to go from the fireplace, and enter the main hall where you will see the stairs. Under the stairs there will be a small door, a door small enough for a small boy to fit through. If you unlock the many locks, you will open it to mind a small mattress, a blanket, and a couple of toy soldiers."
A solid tear ran down the cheek of the Professor, and she gaped rather concerned at the boy standing before her. She realised what he was saying. "I want you to place one on each of the respective desks of those who left me there. For they did not leave me on a doorstep, nor did they leave me with family, they exiled me to a cupboard under the stairs in a house with two spare bedrooms and people who didn't want me."
Harry took out his acceptance letter, and handed it to the Professor:
Harry Potter
Cupboard Under the Stairs
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
Lucius Malfoy looked like he saw a ghost, and, for the first time, had been sighted with his jaw dropped. He took a rather large intake of breath, and said nothing. Draco Malfoy looked no different to his Father, although he was a lot less trained in hiding his incredulity. Hermione Granger stared in horror at the boy. Yet Harry just stared coldly at the Professor as he spoke, as she read the address on the envelope. She looked back at him lost for words. He spoke levelled and clearly, he didn't feel the need to raise his voice – for his words carried all the emotion that was needed.
After a minute, the Professor cleared her throat and said "So, Hermione. It's best I brought you back to your parents. For you Mr Potter, I will see to your requests immediately." With haste she walked up to the counter of the Leaky Cauldron, and called down the Bartender. "Tom! Mr Potter shall rent your finest room until he departs for school. Please would you open a tab for all his living expenses, and for it to be billed to one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. See to it that he also has privacy."
"Yes Ma'am." Tom delightfully, writing the information down. He walked over to Harry, and spoke with a cheery tone. "Mr Potter, I will take all of your things to your room. I have a key for you, it's the suite on the top floor. Breakfast shall be served from 7am to 10:30am, Lunch from 1pm to 3pm, and Dinner from 6pm to 10pm. If there is anything else that you require, I will see to it and you can ask questions when you're done chatting with your friends."
With that, Tom took out his wand and disappeared up the stairs with Harry's shopping items – all except for his wand which Harry had stored in his pocket.
"Thank you, Professor." Harry spoke brighter.
"As per your other request, I will have those items delivered when the first opportunity arises." The Professor asserted, and then spoke most sincerely. "If there is anything else that one might need, any questions, any concerns, any thoughts that may be better with my attention, I am an owl away. Tom can show you how to do that. Don't go down Knockturn Alley, and, if you're ever lost in the Muggle world, simply hold out your wand in your right hand facing the road by the curb and you will hail the Knight bus."
"Again, thank you very much." Harry said again.
The Professor took one last look at Lucius Malfoy, and looked at him dead in the eye. It was a threatening look, a look for him to be cautious. An attempt to stare him down, perhaps. But Lucius met the gaze, almost with a look of victory. Lucius met her eyes and watched as she left with the young girl, before turning to Harry. That boy would make a fine Slytherin.
"You, Mr Potter, would do Salazar Slytherin very proud." Lucius commended the boy.
"Seriously?! Salazar Slytherin?" Harry almost shouted with astonishment. Lucius almost stepped back confused. Draco looked to his Father rather worried. Just as Lucius thought his plan had fallen apart before it had even begun, Harry questioned. "What is this obsession with alliteration?"
AN: It is commonly referenced throughout the books that Harry looks like his Father, but with his Mother's eyes. I am sure that Lucius would recognise Harry as at least looking familiar.
Regarding the books that Lucius gave him, Harry is eleven. The books are written so that an eleven-year-old can understand them. He's not nearly of age yet to understand the essence, negotiation, or politics, or strategy. But they are there so that he understands the system, that are slightly beyond those of his age – especially for a student raised in the Muggle World.
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