Chapter 3 - A Muggle in Diagon Alley

A/N: Obligatory First Trip to Diagon scene! I think so far this is the only fic of mine that has one, but I couldn't dodge the bullet forever. This chapter is quite long, over 12K words, and really fast paced, mostly to avoid recapping all the canon stuff. Personally, I think Snape had to warp some time here for them to get all of this done in one day, but then again, I've had some days with insane numbers of stops, so….we're going with it!

Also, to address some common reviewer comments: the medical exam requirement just makes sense. It's a logical thing that should have been required in the books. I've had schools that require a basic physical from a physician every year. It especially makes sense for any magical child raised in the muggle world, as cannon notes there are diseases that affect mages and muggles differently. I.e., muggles don't get dragonpox and mages don't get cancer.

Why is Snape added to this venture? Because sending only Hagrid on this was almost as stupid and irresponsible as leaving Harry with the Dursley's in the first place. Hagrid is adorable, but totally incompetent for this particular task. Snape's skill set (when he can control his temper, which is anytime you don't have a Potter, a Black, or someone screwing up potions) makes him a very viable candidate for helping muggle families navigate entry to the magical world. It was him, McGonagall, or an OC. I adore Snape, so, there you go!

Pureblood culture: I mostly like having fun with it. I will try not to make it onerous. I plan to make it a fun cultural thing to add flavor, not a huge time sink.

Dudley and his parents: yes, they have a very fraught relationship. His handicap exposed him to their pettiness and dysfunctionality. Sadly, that is going to get worse.

Remember anything between slashes is in sign language.

Allons-y!

Dudley felt guilty about elbowing his mum for about three heartbeats. Being twisted and vacuumed into thinner-than-air anti-space rather drove it from his mind.

Before he could even process the horrific, nauseating sensation he and Harry were both reeling to the floor, retching. They just managed not to spew.

After a few deep breaths they slowly climbed to their feet and looked around.

They were in a short, dead end alley between old fashioned, towering buildings, probably somewhere in London. It was surprisingly clean and empty of both trash and vagrants.

"What was that? Where are we?" Harry asked and signed, looking at Snape with curiosity and some trepidation.

"London," Dudley saw him reply. "…down…Charing Cross…" then a long explanation about a word he didn't recognize. Harry held up a hand to Snape and turned to face him, beaming fit to split his face in two.

/It was a-p-p-a-r-i-t-i-o-n, signed 'apparition.' It's like teleporting! Instantaneous travel!/

Dudley felt his eyes grow wide and his smile return. /BRILLIANT!/

Snape huffed and immediately launched into a long verbal explanation, with signing alongside, of why apparition was not like teleporting.

The boys shared a looked, silently agreeing that pseudo-scientific/ pseudo-magical technicalities aside, it was absolutely, totally, exactly like teleporting!

With a frustrated growl Snape abandoned his lecture and swept down the short alley to the street, pushing open a rough, saloon style door of corrugated tin that hung at the end of the alley, idly gesturing them to follow and not looking back.

"We've always wanted to see the West End!" Harry exclaimed as they walked.

"You can continue wanting. We are merely walking through. Look quickly and keep up!" he barked. He flicked a hand at the impressive, ancient and ornate buildings that surrounded them—fancy shops, bakeries, agencies—and seemed to speed up.

Trotting to keep up with the tall man, the boys looked around eagerly, trying to memorize the shops they would arrange to explore another day. Nearly all were closed this early, or just about to open. The streets were fairly empty as well, and the morning chill almost entirely chased away as the summer sun breached the rooftops and began to hit the pavement properly.

A few blocks and dim alley crossings later Snape stepped aside into another blind alley and spun to look down his nose at the boys, particularly at Harry, and then sent a questioning frown at Hagrid. "I do not wish to be mobbed by well-intentioned, mindless strangers. Or especially those who may be less well-intentioned. In theory, no one has seen you in ten years and should have no idea what you look like. However, you bear an unfortunately striking resemblance to your father, and…you have your mother's eyes, which, though not unattractive, are by no means subtle. I will apply a few glamours to your appearance, Mr. Potter."

"Good idea tha', Snape," Hagrid agreed.

Dudley was only able to follow about half of that speech, as usual for Snape, but he got the gist—something about Snape being worried about Harry being recognized? He was not sure what Snape was doing though…Until after a few taps Harry's hair suddenly lightened several shades, settling in a milky chocolate color, and turned short and straight. His eyes turned blue and his skin, which had the subtlest of olive tones, lightened and peached.

"Sufficient," Snape said, stowing his wand. "Now, here is how today will progress. Our first stop is the bank. It is run by goblins. Insulting a goblin is most unwise, and they are, to put it mildly, highly sensitive. I advise treating them with the utmost respect. Pretend you are addressing the queen and perhaps we shall all survive."

The boys started to snigger but seeing that this (surely?) exaggerated description got only the mildest of grunting laughs from Hagrid, they soon thought better of it.

"It is likely the goblins will wish to do a full identity test, which will require a drop of blood taken from a ritual dagger. Blood is very useful in our world, Mr. Potter. Do not get in a habit of shedding yours or leaving it about. Before school begins, ensure you know the spells necessary to prevent your bodily fluids being absconded with by persons nefarious or unknown. I will test you before term starts."

He paused, giving Harry a most intense look until he received a nod of agreement.

Nodding briskly in return, he continued, "Once the goblins are satisfied, they will escort you to your trust vault, assuming you have one. You will make a withdrawal of gold, and any useful articles left in your possession. In particular, you may look for a trunk and satchel, robes, telescope, quill set, wand holster, and a house ring. I will advise you. Whatever you obtain from the vault will shorten our list for later, save you some gold—not that you are likely to have any problems in that area—and will most likely come with some magical enhancements.

"HOWEVER!" he suddenly snapped at them both! "Touching strange articles in a magical location, particularly in the vault of an old and eccentric family such as the Potters, is an excellent way to get yourself cursed!" he snarled. "ASK. FIRST. My sympathies shall be limited indeed should either of you find yourselves in need of a trip to the magical hospital due to Reckless. Stupidity!"

He fixed them both with a fierce glare, reinforcing his warning.

The boys shared a look.

He has sympathies? Dudley implied to Harry with incredulous eyes.

Could've fooled me…Harry looked back.

"Ahem," Snape barked, regaining their attention. "Afterwards we will visit a healer for a full medical scan. All students must receive a basic exam each year, but given your situation," a meaningful look implied the family situation with his aunt and uncle, "I insist upon a full scan. As I am acting in loco parentis, I will be present for this exam and I will hear the results. I would apologize for this invasion of privacy, but I must ensure any issues discovered are properly dealt with. I am licensed as a journeyman healer, and both that and my position at Hogwarts ensure that any sensitive information regarding your health is, by oath, kept under strictest confidence and may only be shared with others as necessary to ensure your wellbeing. There will be no histrionics over the healer's instructions."

Dudley could fee Harry almost rolling his eyes at this warning. Seriously? Who says "histrionics"?

"Our next stop will be the Oculist to replace these abyssal muggle artefacts with something actually functional. If all goes well, we should be able to get all that done in time for a slightly late lunch. Then, if you two still have any energy at all, we will begin acquiring your necessary affects as per your school list. If we are to have any hope of accomplishing this monumental list of tasks, there will be no unnecessary shenanigans. We will be prompt and focused. Is that understood?"

He waited again for nods of assent. This day was suddenly sounding duller than anticipated, and Dudley started to question his decision to come.

Snape started to turn away, but then turned back, glancing briefly at Hagrid.

"Hagrid will ensure we are not bothered by strangers. If time allows, we may take tea at the ice cream parlor. Your impressionable young minds may just melt at the brilliance of magical ice cream sundaes. I may consider the spectacle compensation for my herculean efforts."

Hagrid snorted. "A'right, Snape, I think 'ey understand. Shall we be off then?"

Snape nodded and marched back to Charing Cross road.

Dudley took it all back! Every doubt he'd briefly entertained. Forget the West End! It could go hang. He wanted to come back with all the allowance money EVER and wander Diagon Alley for a week!

In the middle of a summer morning the street was alive in a way no other street in his experience had ever been! It popped, and sparkled, and fizzled, and whirled, and flashed, and flowed with people as colorful and astonishing as the shops.

He got only the vaguest of impressions, however, as they were practically frog marched through the first winding block to a great square, which was dominated by a towering classical structure: the Bank.

An hour later, Dudley left the bank with some more newfound convictions: Goblins were the coolest things EVER and wizards were crazy and stupid for not thinking so.

Their trip had lasted at least twice as long as necessary as he tried to get Harry to learn as much khazdul sign language as possible so he could ask them to teach him (Dudley) to use an axe. The goblins were amused with the "hand talk" and pleased that the boys showed interest in their language. They obliged Dudley so far as to allow a junior clerk to test his wrestling skills. Apparently Dudley ranked "Not Totally Pathetic and Useless," which as it turns out was where most goblin children of equivalent maturity ranked, so they were duly impressed.

By the time they left the bank, the goblins, particularly Griphook, the Potter account manager, were telling Harry he was welcome any time, it was a pleasure to serve him, and could he please bring back the amusing Not-Useless-Non-Magical-Human-Male-Child?

As they visited Harry's Trust Vault (apparently there were a few others he couldn't have access to yet), Dudley blinked at the piles of gold. His parents could never hear about this!

Snape allowed Harry to take a box of wizarding fiction books and insisted he take the family signet ring—though for now that hung from a chain around his neck—and a rather plain pocket watch. Well, it was plain compared to the many larger ones with ornate carvings, inlays of pearl, opal, or ivory, and jewel ornamentation. This one was only solid gold with fanciful etchings all over the outside. Hagrid went off with their goblin guide while the other three wrapped up in the Trust Vault, visiting a vault of his own.

Snape instructed Harry to withdraw 300 galleons. That seemed like a lot to Harry, but Snape insisted that between a full new school kit (uniform, books, supplies, wand), seeing to his health needs (healer and oculist) and sundries, he may use more than he thought. They did find a trunk, and a shiny leather book bag, a wizard grooming kit (most of which Harry was too young to need, but the comb might actually have some effect on his hair once it was de-glamoured), a potions storage box, and a magical first aid kit.

The healer visit was uneventful, other than the fact that in place of a sterile and antiseptic space devoid of life and color like most muggle medical spaces, this one was done up like a Victorian tea house, complete with a floral china tea set that poured itself out for them as soon as they sat to wait. Hagrid waited outside.

Harry was pronounced in perfect health, though slighter of build than his father, or the average wizard of his age. He needed a bevy of nasty potions that were apparently the magical equivalent of vaccines which he was behind on receiving. The mediwitch was astonished that he hadn't died of any of a list of maladies by now and scandalized, outraged, that he'd never had a visit from a qualified medical professional—muggles did NOT count when talking about magical children!—and had received NONE of his 'systemic protections' since he was a year old. He couldn't take all of them at once, as they might interact, but he would be on a regimen for the rest of the summer to catch up and ensure he didn't contract or spread dragon pox, miffles, Nadderitis, or half a dozen overly imaginative diseases. She also insisted on adding a slough of vitamin potions, and argued for ten whole minutes with Snape about the necessity of some kind of potion to stimulate natural growth. In the end Snape deigned to allow five days, an extra week of vitamins with appetite stimulant and a re-evaluation at Halloween.

Dudley, meanwhile, sat with Hagrid in the waiting-tea room, enjoying the freedom to turn his tea into tea-flavored-syrup. Hagrid was impossible to lipread and couldn't follow any of Dudley's attempts to teach him sign language, but he pulled a fuzzy mole like creature from his pocket and they had a most enjoyable half hour getting it to hunt down all the shiny tea spoons.

The Oculist was similar: disdainful and disgruntled at the regular glasses (seriously? They were fine!) and positively scandalized at the state of Harry's barely tolerable vision. She prescribed a regimen of eye drop potions to help correct his eyes over time, and a set of magical glasses—enchanted against breaks, scratches, UV protection, light filtering, and…mindreading?! Snape had suppressed a miffed sneer at that last one. Harry wasn't sure what that meant, but he filed it away to ask about later.

Dudley laughed hysterically when the eye scanning equipment had launched itself at Harry's face when he sat down in the exam chair. Well, first Dudley had tried to punch it, but once Snape explained what it was, then Dudley laughed hysterically. It vaguely resembled the massive mask shaped contraption eye doctors use to figure out prescriptions, except it was even huger, with weirdly shaped eye holes, had no lenses in it, floated by itself, and was bright purple and sparkled!

Harry left with two back up pairs as well, disappointing the occulist when he stuck with the simple frames. She tried to press on him some varieties in solid gold, diamond, and ones enchanted to change color and shape on command. Harry wasn't sure exactly what the frame he chose were made from. It looked like wood, with aged leather covers on the earpieces, and accents in subtle gold wire, but they could be bent slightly, like metal, to fit better. Dudley admitted that Harry's new frames looked better than the old ones.

The sun was past its zenith by the time they left the oculist.

Snape looked down his long nose at the boys, assessing them with narrowed eyes. /Lunch, I think. Adventurous? Or tame?/

They blinked at each other and shrugged.

Snape sneered. "I detest that gesture, Mr. Potter. If you have a thought to share, do yourself and the rest of us a favor and phrase it candidly. Now, allow me to reframe the question. Would you like to have a tame meal, in a place very similar to many muggle establishments and a menu all but identical to every pub in London? Or would you care to see a side of our world more magical than most ever see, and with fare more adventurous and rare?"

Harry looked at him quizzically. /Are you just hyping this up or should we be nervous? We're not afraid of spicy ethnic food if that's the type of thing you mean. Mr. Ashik made us tangine and bastille a few times. I like falafel—and sushi! More than most British food. And can I afford this adventure and still buy schoolbooks?/

Snape blinked at him for a moment and chuckled. "Very well. Follow me!"

Spinning on his heel, Snape led them further up Diagon Alley, away from the prime shopping areas. They were well out of sight of the now-crowded district closer to the Leaky Cauldron when Snape ducked down a narrow alley that Hagrid barely fit through. At the other end they found themselves in a small cobblestone square, overshadowed by old, crowded-together buildings reaching five and even six stories.

Both boys blinked in the sun when and then stared about them in wonder!

/Woooooow!/ They signed slowly, in unison, though they were actually looking in opposite directions.

It was so full of life! There were people moving everywhere! Plants and flowers overflowing in every cranny—and the strangest variety you could imagine! Colored mosaics, floral arrangements, furniture, tapestries, fountains, murals, painted walls—the whole place seemed to flicker and flash. The sunlight filtered down through a veritable atrium of skybridges, balconies, vines, sail like sunshades, and laundry lines. Music in five or six different styles filled the air, providing a background to the joyful cacophony of voices of all ages and many languages.

The courtyard was surrounded on three sides by cafes and restaurants, which spilled tables into the court and in many cases expanded up to the first-floor balconies. The fourth side was occupied by a group of two dozen children of various ages playing a spirited game something like football, though the three balls were different than a typical football. Similar balls flew on occasion over head between the balconies and bridges!

At least half the café tables were full. Some with one or two customers enjoying a quiet meal, others had been pulled together for groups—often bridging the areas of multiple restaurants. In the center of the square a large fountain with three tiers filled the air with a cooling mist. It was surrounded mostly by women, both young and old. Some were even using it—magically, of course—to do laundry!

The facades of the buildings were as loud as the people who filled them, with various and conflicting styles ranging not just from building to building, but often from one floor to another.

It was glorious! It was messy, and crowded, and loud. Aunt Petunia would call it dirty, but you can't get colors like that through dirt (Harry would know!). It felt….cozy, and alive; overwhelming and safe at the same time.

"Welcome to the Knot," Snape said, with rather less sarcasm than usual. A few people looked over as they passed, some nodding agreeably to Snape and Hagrid. Hagrid called greetings to a few as they passed. Snape contented himself with returning greetings in kind, namely, the brisk nod sans speech.

The boys followed behind Snape, with Hagrid bringing up the rear, to a café with a brightly patterned awning in blue, green, and yellow, and the same colors weaving along the façade in a way that was sure to either delight or offend—but could never be ignored! As they entered they realized that what they had taken for the door was in fact the front wall of the establishment, built with barn like doors that could be swung wide open in fair weather—a smart feature as the space for inside-seating could hold no more than three tiny tables. The smells wafting from the kitchens were exotic and mouth-watering!

The proprietor, a portly middle-aged man with a wide nose, eyes crinkled from smiling, and glowing tan skin bustled from behind his counter as they approached. He stepped towards Snape with his arms wide and Harry at first thought the man might hug the surly professor!

He stopped just short and merely clapped him on the arms, chattering delightedly at Snape in a language Harry had never heard before. The man was nodding emphatically and smiling widely. He soon gestured invitingly towards a corner just past the counter, where a narrow staircase ascended to the upper levels.

Snape nodded curtly. "This way, boys," he said curtly. "Mr. Hakan is a friend and has allowed us the private use of his upper dining room." He looked shrewdly at Harry. "This is both an honor and a precaution for your safety and his. It would be imprudent to announce your presence in the Alleys at this time."

"I'll keep an eye on things down 'ere, eh. You boys enjoy yerselves now!" said Hagrid as Snape reached the steps, setting himself on the floor by the table nearest the staircase. Seated thus, he was at almost the perfect height for the table, and effectively blocked the staircase.

The three past a pleasant hour with kebabs, curries, hummus, and frothy, fruity, yogurt drinks, wrapping up with delicate pastry drenched in honey. While Harry loved the food, more than that he drank up the noise of the Knot; the cacophony of life!

Mr. Hakan came up as they finished, shamelessly fishing for compliments on his food, which they liberally supplied. Even Snape declared the meal 'most satisfactory, as usual,' which Mr. Hakan seemed to take as high praise indeed. The boys wandered to the balcony overlooking the square as Snape and Mr. Hakan kept talking.

Harry took in the colors, the music, the chaos and smiled.

Dudley nudged his elbow. /Pretty neat, yeah?/

Harry nodded. /Can you imagine living here? So cool!/

Dudley mimicked Harry's posture, arms folded on the railing, head lolling on his wrist, but he was giving Harry a doubtful look.

Harry raised a questioning brow. What?

Dudley shrugged. /Do they have Nintendo?/

Harry snorted with laughter. /Probably something better,/ he replied, somewhat smugly.

Dudley rolled his eyes but was saved from replying as Snape interrupted them by rapping on the rail beside Harry. "If you are satisfied with the view, gentlemen, let us proceed to the next stop."

/What's next?/ Harry asked.

/Only the most important tool of the rest of your life. A wand./

Harry stared in awe and trepidation at the holly stick in his hand. Over his head, Snape was glaring daggers at the old wandmaker.

"For someone with a flawless eidetic memory, you have alarmingly little mastery of tact and timing, Mr. Ollivander," he snarled.

The old man gave an unaffected huff. "Ruffled feathers, young Severus. Candor is a virtue little appreciated, I find, but a virtue nonetheless."

Snape snarled, but Harry stepped quickly forward. "Thank you, sir," he said nervously to Mr. Ollivander. "I'll take good care of it. How much do I owe you?"

Ollivander smiled benignly. "Seven galleons, young man. And here is a manual for proper care of your wand. Take care of it, and it shall take care of you. I think you, more than most, will come to appreciate that truth."

Harry nodded jerkily, hastily counted out the gold coins, stuffed the pamphlet in his pocket and followed Snape from the shop. Dudley gave it all one last curious, doubtful look, and followed.

Snape took a deep breath once they had cleared the shop. "Meddlesome old drama queen! Potter, I suggest you give little heed to his ramblings. Whether your wand bears any relation to that of the Dark Lord or not is inconsequential. Perhaps, someday, it may be a helpful bit of trivia. But it need bear no weight on your present. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded, though in reality he was just bewildered by the whole thing. Snape jerked his head in acknowledgement.

/You okay?/ Dudley signed to Harry, as Snape turned on his heels and marched down the street. They followed more slowly, and Hagrid, having waited outside the shop, effectively blocking the entrance until they had been ready to leave, slipped into the rear of their little procession.

Harry shrugged, letting his eyes wander over the buildings. Quickly his confusion over the strange wandmaker's ramblings melted away. /The wand felt…/ he stilled, smiling at the recollection. There really weren't any words to describe the feeling when he had held it. He sighed. /Right? Magical? Whole?/

Dudley nodded sagely, or as sagely as a pudgy eleven-year-old can be. Harry figured he probably didn't actually understand. Who could, if they'd never held a wand themselves? He wondered if all wizards felt that way when they first held a wand. As if something they'd missed their whole life were suddenly returned and brought to life! Like a wire suddenly connected to a live current; a light suddenly turned on and only then did you realize how dark it had gotten.

Suddenly Harry's eyes snagged on a shop window, and he froze in his tracks!

Hagrid nearly walked over him. "Steady ther', 'Arry. Wha's a matter, lad?"

Snape whirled and rolled his eyes when he saw what had caught Harry's gaze. "Not today, Potter. As your supplies letter clearly states, first years are not allowed their own brooms."

Harry continued to stare. "It's so beautiful," he said in a low voice.

Snape rolled his eyes again. Dudley eyed the window display skeptically. Hagrid chuckled.

"Quidditch addled jockey brained morons," Snape sneered under his breath.

"What?" said Harry, jerking out of his trance over the Nimbus 2000. "No, just, look at it! It's a work of art! Do you people do that with everything you make? I can't imagine sweeping a floor with that, but…Golly, I'd just want to hold it and look at it!"

Snape blinked at him for a moment and then his mouth spread into a grin so wide his face looked broken. "Sweet Merlin," he sputtered! "Sweet bloody MERLIN!" And he began to howl with laughter! Many passersby looked at him in alarm and hastily chose a different path. Harry sympathized with the impulse. Snape laughing was…disturbing.

Fortunately, it didn't last long, and he recovered enough to continue, though still with a bizarre and unsettling smile twisting his face in unnatural—for him—arrangements. "Any revenge still owing to your prong headed father is officially paid in full! Eleven years old and Potter's spawn has no idea what a broomstick is! Sweep the floor, indeed! Ooh, it's too precious for words." He sent a nearly feral grin down at Harry. "That, Mr. Potter, was the funniest thing I have ever heard in my life. Very well, clearly another stop is warranted. I can't believe I am doing this. But I can hardly miss the opportunity to be the one to introduce a Potter to a broom! Follow me, boys."

At first the shop owner, a Mr. Julian Smith, was disgruntled to see Hagrid settling on the walk outside, blocking his door. But once he realized he was being given the chance to tell Harry Potter all about Quidditch and show him a magic broom for the first time, his objections died so fast he literally choked on them.

Snape watched in snide amusement as the man tripped all over himself to show Harry and Dudley the brooms, mitts, bats, jerseys, gloves, and goggles. Mr. Smith took out several models of brooms and let the boys run hands over them, even attempt to mount them, with Mr. Smith holding tight to the handles, of course. The brooms didn't recognize Dudley at all. He rolled his eyes and shrugged. He really didn't see the appeal—though the bludgers and Beater's bats were interesting. Harry reacted to the broom almost as strongly as he had to his wand. Snape started to regret his lapse of sanity on choosing to come inside and allow a closer look; seeing how easily Harry took to commanding the room, how naturally he mounted and gripped the handle, how eager he clearly was to get a broom into the open sky…that much joy was almost sickening.

They had just begun on balls when—

Harry suddenly jerked his head around, leapt sideways, and used a rack of shelves to lightly propel himself up to the air! He snatched at something twinkling near the beams above and landed in a tight crouch a yard or two away.

"What's this?" he said, straightening and holding up a shimmering golden ball with swirling silver wings struggling to escape his hand.

Mr. Smith gaped at him.

"That, Mr. Potter," said Snape smoothly, though somewhat sourly, "is the Golden Snitch. In addition to the Keeper, Chasers, and Beaters, each team fields a single Seeker, whose job is to catch this ball before the other team's Seeker. The capture of the Snitch ends the game and wins the Seeker's team 150 points."

He was staring at Harry with something almost like disappointment.

"Oh," said Harry. "That sounds really lopsided for one position. I mean, doesn't that undervalue all the other positions?"

Snape now blinked, nonplussed.

"Anyway," said Harry, turning to Mr. Smith. "Here's your, uh, snitch back, Mr. Smith."

Mr. Smith was staring at him in shock. "Well, Mr. Potter, seeing as how you caught it, it's actually yours now. We've had a little bit of a contest going this summer. Any customer as catches the snitch here inside the store gets to keep it—"

"Really!" Harry enthused, lighting up. /Dudley, look! I get to keep it!/

Dudley chuckled. /Lucky you./

"Oh, and," chuckled Mr. Smith, gleefully, almost rubbing his hands together, "Actually, the one who catches it also gets to pick a broom, on the house, as you might say."

The boys and Snape looked at him with wide eyes.

"Come again?" Snape said woodenly.

"Oh, aye! We got it all set up with the Prophet, as well. They're all set to do a piece on it and the store soon as we got a winner! Pictures and all! And Potter at that! Sweet Merlin! We might get the front page!" He turned towards the back of the store. "Oi! Olsen! Get out here, you lout! We got a winner!"

"Eh? What?" called a voice, and soon a lanky, sandy head poked out from a narrow door nearly hidden behind celebrity jerseys. "Wha'di'je say, boss?"

"We got us a winner! An' you'll never guess, who it is, neither! Get down to the Prophet. It's—eeeep!" He cut off as Snape's black wand tip pressed against his neck. The boys scrambled back hastily.

"Professor, no! What are you doing?" Harry called, as Dudley pulled him away behind a nearby display, putting himself firmly in front of his cousin.

Snape ignored them. "Mr. Olson, will you please join us out here for a moment?" he said silkily

With a squeak the shop assistant shuffled out. "Now, sir, there's no need for all that! We don't want no trouble in our store, see?"

"Oh, I do see," said Snape, dangerously low. "Which is why you will both hold. Your. Tongues! Mr. Olson, Mr. Smith was just about to tell you that this is Mr. Harry Potter. He has, in a fit of inspired impulsivity, captured your snitch. Mr. Smith was just telling us this entitles him to the not only the snitch in question, but a broom of his choice, yes?'

Olson nodded. "That's right. Can you put the wand away now, sir? It's just a broom."

"Ah, yes! It is indeed just a broom. Therefore, there is no need for anyone to be shouting out Mr. Potter's name or otherwise attracting attention to his presence. Is that understood?"

The two men nodded assent and Snape lowered his wand. "Now, you were saying something about awarding Mr. Potter for his impulsivity?"

Mr. Smith shifted uncomfortable and looked between Snape and Harry. "Well, the rules say the one who catches the snitch gets to pick a broom. They're posted there in the window. But the whole idea was to get it in the Prophet! They've been waiting, with a photographer on call and everything! We can't just…just give it away! And, and to Harry Potter!"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Do the rules stipulate the winner must speak with the Prophet, or allow his picture to be taken in order to win? Or that any such interview must take place on the spot?"

When the man hemmed and hawed, Snape pounced like a proverbial cat. "Bring me the rules!" he snapped.

Olson darted to the sales counter and returned with a parchment brochure, which Snape snatched out of his hands. Black eyes roved rapidly back and forth.

Once done he turned sharply to Harry. "Well, Potter, it appears you are entitled to a broom of your choice from this established. They, in turn, are entitled to use your name and likeness in publishing the win. You are not required to give an interview or interact with the press in any capacity."

The shopkeepers' faces fell, and Harry looked mildly distressed. "I really don't need a broom, professor. I mean, it'd be amazing, but they wanted the article and—"

"The article can still happen," Snape interjected. "You, however, will not be present for any interview or professional photographs. If you gentlemen have a camera on the premises, I will allow a photo to be taken here, and now, which you may use for the purposes stipulated in these guidelines as stated. If that is agreeable to all parties concerned?"

He looked pointedly at Harry, who gulped under the scrutiny, but nodded confidently, especially after seeing Mr.'s Smith and Olson brighten considerably. They did indeed have a camera, and Olson vaulted the counter to fetch it.

Mr. Smith, heartened by the generosity of a photo with Harry Potter, and what's more, Potter as the winner of their summer contest and holding one of their brooms, dared to venture, "eh, I do have a DictaQuill as well. Not one of them acid ones; takes down just what you say. Could I, uh, get a quote or something from Mr. Potter as well?"

Snape sneered but shrugged acquiesce. He did insist on examining the quill in question to ensure it was what they claimed, and insisted Harry never allow the use of a bright green magical quill when "making statements."

Mr.'s Smith and Olson nearly fell over themselves during the next ten minutes staging a photo of them with 'Harry Potter!' and his new broom. Snape removed the glamor spells for the occasion. Harry vacillated for several minutes over which model to pick. The owners clearly wanted him to take the Nimbus 2000, as that would be the most effective marketing move to get more people to buy it. Snape seemed to approve Harry's inclination to not automatically get the most expensive thing in the shop, especially as it was a highly specialized tool that he was not currently trained to use, in the least! In the end Dudley just about bullied him into getting it.

/You're basically doing them a favor, Harry. Let them give you the darn broom!/

There was a great deal of jostling, as the owners found one of the smaller sizes of the broom—they couldn't risk Harry Potter getting injured on an improperly sized broom!—and then chose a spot, then argued over how to arrange everything.

Before the finally took the photo, Harry mentioned buying Dudley a Beater's Bat, mostly so he'd actually pay for something in the store, and that delayed the photo even longer as Mr. Smith decided to throw it in for free, and Olson suggested adding a pair of gloves and goggles as well.

Finally, after a bout of severe death glares on the part of Snape, they were all four of them arranged next to the sales counter, under the store sign and in front of the broom rack, with the boys in front holding their prizes. It took a bit of sniggering between them to smile past the glares Snape was shooting over the camera he held with great distaste.

"You will send a copy of the article to Mr. Potter, care of myself, before sending to the Prophet," he stated harshly. "Any deviation from the stated terms of the contest, or any erroneous or imprudent comments in the article will result in contact from the Potter Estate solicitor. Is that understood?"

With that parting shot, Snape ushered them out of what Harry thought might become his favorite shop, with his first ever broomstick (stuffed into one of Hagrid's seemingly endless pockets, with a promise to deliver it to his Trust Vault later), first ever top of the line anything, first ever prize winnings, and—a metal ball as a pet butterfly. He stuffed it in his pocket, but it started buzzing after a while; when he released it, it circled him wildly a few times and then settled onto either his hair or his shoulder. Every few minutes it would take off for another loop or two and settle once more.

Hagrid exclaimed delightedly over the situation, having watched and heard much of it from his position at the door. A few shoppers had caught a glimpse of Harry through the window before Hagrid shewed them away. As the group left Quality Quidditch Supplies, a few clusters of shoppers around the street were set to watch and started twittering together.

Dudley snickered. /Bet they think your pet butterfly is cute./

/It's not a butterfly./

/It's totally a butterfly!/

/Is not! The wings aren't even remotely the right shape./

Dudley shrugged. /Nice jump, though./

/Thanks!/ Harry said, smiling. A passing girl saw his faint blush just as the snitch settled on his hair again; she squealed and hid her beaming face. Harry shuffled by but couldn't help overhearing the word "cute."

Dudley, though he couldn't hear the word or see her lips, was more than competent at reading body language. He looked back over his shoulder at Harry as they passed. /Definitely a butterfly./ He smirked.

/Prat!/

Snape held open a door ahead of them. The sign overhead read Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions.

"In," Snape mouthed.

"Oi, Sev'rus," said Hagrid, "I'd like te stop over at Eyeloops and whatnot. Think ye can handle this stop yerself?"

Snape gave Hagrid a supremely unimpressed look. "Clearly you are unfamiliar with Slytherin House victory celebrations if you feel that question even deserves asking. Suit yourself." He waved an unconcerned hand and entered the shop. Inside the shop seemed practically deserted, with only a few shoppers on the fringes. The boys didn't notice, but these —most of them—left within a few minutes and the door sign flipped to 'Closed for Lunch,'

"Now, boys," Snape said, stepping to where Dudley could see his face and read his lips. "As you have, I hope, noticed—being, please Merlin, not entirely bereft of observational capabilities—mages, amongst ourselves, dress quite differently from our non-magical brethren. Our society is one of artisans, not factories, and we tend to favor fewer, and more durable possessions, rather than the masses of cheap, shiny trash muggles have gravitated towards in the last century. This being the case our trends and fashions develop at a much slower pace and often in widely different directions.

"The most common garment in our world is the robe." He snatched a black mass of fabric off the nearest rack and set it hovering before them with a tap of his wand. "Your required robes are in what is termed the Scholastic Style, which is a loose, outer robe, warn over trousers and Oxford shirt, and an inner robe which resembles a long waistcoat. Though generally worn open, the scholastic style is typically single breasted when fastened, and has hidden ties around the belt so it can be tightened as various tasks require. Similarly, the sleeves contain either ties, buttons, or spells to cinch them to the wrists when necessary. A full kit also includes a tie, which will be provided by your head of House after sorting, to match your House colors, and leather boots in either black or brown.

"Casual robes for wizards often follow a similar pattern, though are generally less versatile. Witches' robes are more likely to have fitted bodice pieces, double breasted closures, and side slits, as opposed to front, and fuller, longer skirts. However, many wizards' robes feature a Cassock style, with a fitted torso as well. Sleeves may be bound or full; fuller sleeves generally include hidden pockets, which can be a bonus, though they may also get in your way and be tricky to handle.

"Mr. Potter, you will need a full Hogwarts uniform kit, for warm and cold weather, as well as…I shall say three full sets of casual wear, and any personal affects you may require. As with your eye wear, your muggle affects may be functional, but you will find our items come with certain benefits which you may find agreeable. Also, as your fame and history will no doubt attract you a certain amount of attention which you may find uncomfortable, you might want to reduce any negative attention by not appearing with muggle items without good reason."

He paused in his lecture to survey the store over the racks. "If you head in that direction you will find racks of pre-made casual wear for young wizards. I need to speak with Madam Malkin and have her take your measurements. Please take yourselves in that direction, pull out anything you find interesting, and then wait in the alcove there. See the mirrors? Excellent. Off you go."

He spun and marched in search of the matron.

Harry and Dudley blinked at each other. /Well that was…/ Harry began.

Dudley snorted. /You have to wear a dress./

Harry frowned. /it's a robe!/

Dudley looked at the black robe still floating next to them. /Looks like a dress!/

/It does not either! What girl would wear this? I think it looks like those Oxford Dons on TV! Do they still wear those, do you think?/

Dudley shrugged, and Harry knew he was struggling to refrain from more teasing.

Harry bit his lip and looked at the racks of mismatched robes leading the way to the mirrors. /What do you say we find the ugliest robes before he gets back to us?/

Dudley snorted. /Bet I find the ugliest!/ And he all but dove into the racks.

A few minutes later Harry mounted a low pedestal in front of the mirrors, admiring the hideous orange robes. They were much too long and had some kind of eye watering blue symbol on them that looked like a five-year-old's drawing of a cannon. Dudley stood over the pile of horrible stuff, snickering.

/Yeah, this one is definitely the worst. What is this symbol, do you think?/

/No idea,/ Dudley replied. He began shuffling in the pile for the next embarrassing outfit. Neither boy noticed the figure that stepped to the other pedestal until a new voice broke the quiet bustle of the shop.

"Please tell me you aren't a Chudley Cannons fan! I'm shocked anyone can stand to follow them."

Snapping his head Harry beheld a thin blond boy, probably their own age, dressed in immaculate dark robes trimmed in silver and turquoise. Harry leaned back eyeing the outfit. Was that a cravat? With a diamond pin? Though it was snooty, Harry was hard put to find it in anyway silly. It actually looked… sophisticated!

/Wow!/ he signed to Dudley. /He makes robes look almost cool./

Dudley was also staring at the boy with his head slightly cocked. /Almost. Not sure I could pull that off. You could though./ He eyed Harry critically.

"What on earth are you doing?" the boy demanded, sounding almost scandalized.

"Hmm?" Harry mumbled, looked back at the boy, whose personality was clearly as snooty as his clothing. "Oh, it's sign language. My cousin is deaf and mute, so I sign for him. He can read lips though, so as long as he can see your face he knows what you are saying. Sometimes signing is just easier to follow though. What was that you said about cannons?"

The boy blinked at them confused, looking between them repeatedly. "I…the Chudley Cannons? The Quidditch team? Gods, do you live under a rock? Don't tell me you don't follow Quidditch!"

"Not so far, but I did just get my first broom! I caught the snitch at the shop up the street and they gave me a Nimbus 2000!" Harry beamed proudly, just as his snitch escaped his inner pocket, zoomed out of his sleeve, and darted forward. Harry snatched it back. "Hey!"

The boy stared at the shiny, fluttering ball. "You won the Nimbus?"

"Yeah. So, were you saying the Cannons are a team?"

The boy again blinked, nonplussed, and seemed discomfited by Dudley's close observation as he stared at his mouth. "I… obviously! And they are the worst in the league. They haven't won a single game in over fifty years."

Harry shuddered. "Oh, that's sad. Alright, getting these off now!"

He stripped the hideous orange robes, thinking maybe he should try looking at the rack more seriously.

"What on earth are you wearing!?" the boy exclaimed. Looking over at him, Harry thought he was stuck between scandal and outrage. He was staring open mouthed at Harry's clothes.

"Um," Harry began, looking down at himself then back up, "jeans? Do you people not wear jeans?"

"'Jeans?'" the boy echoed. "Is that supposed to mean something? It looks…muggle. It looks, scandalous." And he shuddered, though he couldn't stop looking between the two of them, now eyeing both their clothes with scandalized interest.

Both Harry and Dudley snorted in laughter. "Well, yeah. I mean, Dudley is a muggle, and I live with muggles. I just learned about magic this morning, so, of course—"

"Oh, my gods!" the boy squealed, having finally gotten his voice back from the sheer shock of Harry's announcement. "He's an actual Muggle?!" And he took a little jump backwards off the pedestal, looking fearfully at Dudley.

"Careful, Draco," the suavely insulting tones of Professor Snape broke in. "Your ignorance is showing."

From behind a near by rack, Snape swept into the little bay in front of the mirrored alcove. Stopping equidistant from Harry and the blond, he looked down at the toff in disappointment.

"Uncle Severus?!" the boy squeaked, once again torn by how to handle this development.

"Uncle?" Harry said, signing as well, since Snape was facing away from Dudley.

"What are you wearing?!" The boy hissed looking at the professor's clothing. Harry frowned. Snape's clothing was dramatic or odd only in so far as it was all dark, almost black. A stiff trouser, which may have been black denim or possibly twill; button up shirt, open at the collar, with dull, black, metal buttons that were nearly invisible; shoes that were too polished to be trainers, but not shiny enough to be what Vernon would call "business wear"; all under a fitted blazer only slightly long in the torso. Not really all that remarkable…Except that Snape wore them as if he were Dracula in fine velvets stalking an exotic castle at midnight!

"Muggle clothes, Draco. What else would one wear when venturing into muggle Surrey?"

Harry almost laughed as Draco mouthed 'Surrey' as if he weren't entirely sure where that was. Then the blond blinked his confusion away and frowned seriously. "But—but it's practically indecent! You look—"

"Like a muggle?" Snape said, dangerously mild. "That was rather the point."

"Why on earth—"

"Draco!" Snape snapped. "Attend carefully. Consider this not only your first Hogwarts lesson, but the first of many direct lessons I shall be giving you as your Godfather. Beyond the walls of Diagon Alley lies the great muggle city of London. How many muggles do you suppose live there?"

The blond, Draco, blinked owlishly. "I…What? How many? How should I know? Why would that—"

"Approximately 2.4 million muggles. Think of that number for a moment…The greatest sorcerer in all of history, the greatest dozen sorcerers in history together, would have no hope whatsoever to withstand a throng of that magnitude should it turn against them. So, what, clever Draco, is our only hope and our great advantage when it comes to navigating this treacherous and volatile wilderness?"

Harry and Dudley snorted at this and Draco looked sharply at them. Snape turned coolly in their direction. /You have a theory?/ he signed to Harry, and Draco gasped again!

Harry rolled his eyes! /Why would we care?/

To his surprise Snape frowned before cocking a brow. /You are not a muggle, Mr. Potter./ Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Care to share your answer with the class, Mr. Potter?" Snape said snidely, and Draco started violently.

Harry frowned at Draco's odd behavior but answered the professor as if he were in class. "Why would we—I mean, the muggles care? Unless you're attacking us or something. Yeah, there are over two million people in London, but they all have their own lives. They have jobs, and school, and places to be, and errands, and such. And there's galleries, and plays, and museums—London is awesome! And then, everyone here is so different. I mean, in London, there are such different people; most are just…I dunno, people? But you have businessmen, and society ladies, and celebrities, and artists, and actors, and builders, and immigrants, and Peers and MPs…and then there's all the characters in costume for the tourist stuff, and theaters, and goths, and Soho and whatnot. I mean, you'd have to be pretty weird and blatant, and, I dunno, hostile, I guess—to get more than a second look walking in London!"

For a moment Snape merely looked at him, then his gaze snapped back to Draco. "Do you understand, Draco? Appearing to be a muggle means one is, by and large, safe from any notice. Why would they deviate from their busy, productive, pleasant little lives to investigate someone who seems in all probability to be another one of their own? They wouldn't and they don't. Dressed thus, I can go beyond the limited spaces of the magical enclaves and do anything." He widened his eyes dramatically.

Draco looked up at him in something like awe. Harry shared a glance with Dudley, and they just managed to suppress sniggers.

/Great delivery,/ Dudley said with a knowing grin.

/Yeah,/ Harry agreed. /Almost as good as Mrs. Merope!/

"You sound as if you like them, muggles," Draco said with some doubt, as if the fact would lower Snape in his eyes.

"That presupposes I am capable of liking anyone," Snape sneered.

Draco started, clearly unsure how to take this, while Harry and Draco choked—on laughter. Clearly Draco was not as exposed to sarcastic and dramatic adults as some of the parents of their friends tended to be!

"So…" Draco tried again. "So, what do you do when you go…out there?"

"Today I am playing chaperone to a young wizard entering the magical world. However, I have been known to take in the occasional play and concert, shopping, if that is what you mean," Snape replied with clearly false innocence. Draco seemed pleased with this answer.

"Do they have Bach? Do muggles listen to…to real music?" he asked skeptically.

Snape snorted. "That may be the most dangerous question you could ask in London. How does one define 'real' music? You mention Bach. What of Ringo Star? Malcom Young? There are thousands of talented and penetrating musicians in history, many of which have never met a real wizard, that they knew of."

Harry started and stared at Snape. /Malcom Young?/ he signed excitedly to Dudley. Reaching out he tapped Snape's arm, getting his attention. He didn't realize in his excitement that he had stopped speaking aloud.

/Do you listen to ACDC?!/

Quirking a brow, Snape signed in the affirmative, clearly surprised and doubtful that Harry was truly familiar with the band at his age.

/Have you been to any of their concerts? Please, please tell me you went to the 1979 London concert!/ He was smiling hugely, eyes wide and shining as if Snape were some kind of celebrity hero.

Snape signed back extremely slowly. /And if I did?/

Harry's eyes got even bigger, and even Dudley was looking up at Snape with new appreciation. /Did you dress up goth for it? Please tell me you wore eyeliner! Did you spike your hair?!/

/Are you implying,/ Snape signed while clearly holding in a smile of his own, /that I require eyeliner to be sufficiently goth to attend an ACDC concert?/

Harry and Dudley actually squealed. /Did you bring anything back? Souvenir? T-shirt? A tattoo? What did you get?!/

Harry was literally bouncing on his toes and Dudley leaned forward, eyes flicking eagerly between Snape's eyes and hands.

For a long moment Snape regarded Harry carefully, head slightly cocked.

/I shall make you a deal, Potter./

/Yes. Anything!/ Harry signed.

At this, Snape paused and frowned. /NEVER agree to ANYTHING without hearing the FULL TERMS and discussing them with your solicitor and three other people wiser than yourself. NEVER. Do you understand?!/

Harry and Dudley gulped and, sharing a glance, and nodded in tandem.

/Very well. I shall remind you of that. My deal is this. If you achieve a perfect score, what we call an 'O' on your Potions O.W.L. exam in fifth year, then I will show you what I acquired at that concert./

Harry bit his lip—to hold in his excitement—as he stepped forward and eagerly thrust out his hand to close the deal. Fifth year was a long way away, but…Snape was SO COOL!

Snape shook his hand with a slightly malicious grin which almost, almost, made Harry second guess his decision.

"What in Morgana's name is going on?" a high, tense voice, broke out as they released hands. Harry and Snape belatedly snapped eyes to Draco, Dudley a moment behind them. "What—Uncle Severus, what…who…What is—?" he flailed his hands in front of his face, giving Snape a thoroughly lost and frustrated look.

"Ah, yes, Draco, you are quite right. Introductions are overdue. Draco, may I present Harry Potter, Scion and Heir of the Noble and Ancient House of Potter, child of the late James Icarus Potter and Lily Rose Potter née Evans; also, his cousin, Mr. Dudley Dursley. Harry will be joining you at Hogwarts this year.

"Mr. Potter, may I present my godson, Draco Malfoy, Scion of the Noble House of Malfoy, child of Lord Lucius Malfoy and Lady Narcissus Malfoy née Black."

Draco, recovering impressively from being so at sea with all the sign language and discussion of muggles, now made a bow, modest yet elegant. Nevertheless, his eyes were wide and calculating and he was clearly reassessing a great many things. Harry assumed the formality made him feel like he was back on the right foot.

Harry nodded back. "Well met," he said, remembering the greeting Snape had used that morning.

"Well met," Draco echoed. He seemed to struggle for what to say next. Finally, he cleared his throat. "You're really Harry Potter? The—" he cut off, catching a glimpse of Snape's face. he gave a tiny cough, again. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Potter," he said most formally. Glancing at Snape briefly, he continued. "Am I correct in deducing you have been hiding in the muggle world all this time? I suppose that was…somewhat clever."

Harry shrugged. "Not sure about 'hiding,'" he said, signing for Dudley. "I just…live there."

Slowly Draco nodded. "So, when you didn't recognize the Cannons robe, that's because you don't follow Quidditch, at all, because you live with muggles. Do you know…" he paused, clearly considering his words carefully. Eying Snape again, he began a bit more slyly. "How much about the magical world do you know?"

Harry huffed under his breath and almost told Draco that he'd only that day learned that magic existed, and then got the firehose treatment of Dark Lords, martyred parents, goblins, gold coins, magic wands, flying brooms and the difference between Conjuration, Summoning, and Transfiguration! But Snape caught his eye, and though his face seemed almost totally devoid of expression, Harry somehow got a hint that Draco might not be as…well, Harry kind of found his naivete a tad adorable. He was like a living time capsule! But that was when they were talking about muggle rock bands, population counts, and sign language, things he clearly had no experience with (thus, adorable!). But Harry was equally unfamiliar with all things wizard, so… maybe it went both ways, and this boy whose ignorance made him not threatening in the least in Harry's world…maybe in his own world this boy was quite different.

Clearing his throat and trying to look as calculating as Draco did, Harry said, "Little enough to appreciate a tip now and then."

Beside him he felt more than saw Dudley raise a thick brow and shoot an assessing look between them.

Draco was nodding slowly. "Well," he said with a smile that was mostly genuine, but also a little bit…not, "I can help you there." He held out a hand.

Harry started reaching for it but stopped and glanced at Snape. Was this a good idea? Was this what wizards did, shake hands?

Snape's lips twitched in a bare hint of a smile. /Very good, Potter./ Harry made a mental note to ask what was up with Snape refusing to use his sign name. "A moment, Draco. Clasping hands means something slightly different among muggles. For them, it is often little more than a greeting or sign of respect, retaining the barest hint of the old commitment to peace between parties. If the hands are clasped in friendship, they cannot, at that moment, be raised in aggression. In certain occasions, when clearly defined, muggles use the gesture for sealing of agreements or contracts.

"In our world, your world, Mr. Potter, the gesture is more momentous. It is the forming of a partnership or alliance. The act is believed to have esoteric and hitherto unproven magic in it which binds the parties to some degree to one another. For instance, many would understand Mr. Malfoy´s offer just now as that of an alliance of patronage, of sorts, wherein you take your questions about the magic world to him, potentially only him, and he is obligated to give you an answer."

Draco inhaled sharply and Snape sent a glance his way, and a small nod. "Well spotted, Draco. I do not mean, Mr. Potter, to imply that Draco himself would be untruthful, but the implications offered by the very vaguely stated terms, as such, do not obligate him to tell the truth, or even the truth as he sees it. Notice this bargain requires nothing from you except going to him for help, and while those terms are non-specific, he may expect them to be implicitly understood as exclusive terms, and be affronted if you seek advice from others. Do you understand?"

Harry looked suspiciously between the two and nodded slowly.

"And what is your conclusion?"

"Don't shake hands with magical people," Harry supplied.

Snape huffed and Draco curled a lip before self consciously smoothing it out and looking haughty and insulted.

"Anything else?"

Harry frowned. "Is it really…magical?"

Snape nodded. "Well spotted. I have seen too much deception in my life to believe for a moment that a mere handshake can, for instance, force anyone's actions. However, it is good for you to be aware of what it represents in the minds of those who ask for it. Amongst those of your age, I doubt the consequences of breaking a superstitiously implied oath would be insurmountable. For instance, if Mr. Malfoy did believe that such an alliance would include you going always and only to him for advice on the magical world, he would be quickly disabused of such a delusion by his Head of House once Hogwarts began. While he might be out of sorts for a period of time, I have faith that his commitment to decorum and long-term strategy would yet more quickly turn his disgruntlement to cunning and he would redouble his efforts to make himself indispensable."

Harry looked to see how Draco took this sketch of his character. The raised, perfectly manicured eyebrow seemed to Harry as if it were trying to look skeptical, but in reality was anything but. He decided this was probably exactly how Draco would act.

/And would he tell the truth?/ Harry signed to Snape, trying to keep his face blank, though he suspected he failed miserably at it.

Himself keeping a masterfully blank face, Snape replied in kind. /The Malfoys are known to call a thing by every word they can justify so long as they don't actually call it a spade./

/We're eleven,/ Harry replied skeptically.

/Read this carefully, Harry/ and here Snape actually used Harry's name sign, though he shuddered as he did so. /If you take Draco as your ally,/ Harry almost chuckled at the name sign, "Silver Dragon," that Severus used for the boy. It was so perfect! /—he may become the most powerful one you could have. He will almost certainly attempt to use you, your abilities, and your fame, for his own gains. But if you earn his trust and respect, he will repay you with loyalty worthy of Hufflepuff. Even so, you will learn to sift his words carefully./

Harry mulled this over for a minute, then turned to the blond wizard. "Well, Draco—er, I mean, Malfoy," he corrected after a slightly affronted look flicked across the boy's face, "Do you still want an alliance? It'd be neat to have a friend already when I get to Hogwarts. So far I think Professor Snape's pretty cool and, you know, as he's your godfather and all, I figure you're a good place to start. I won't promise to only or always go to you for advice, or you know, do what you say, or anything, but friends help each other when they can. And," he added, suddenly giving the boy a fierce and focused look, "they always tell each other the truth. You game?"

This time it was Draco who hesitated. A plethora of emotions flickered across his face, none resting long enough to full form and be recognized. The blond looked back and forth between the strange, almost wild, half-muggle person who'd dropped from the sky, knowing nothing, and yet acting so confident, and his godfather, who….Draco could hardly process his austere and serious godfather, one of the few men whom his father respected, wearing muggle clothes, visiting Muggle London, using muggle hand talk…The most shocking thing of all, though, was the suggestion that he might be a worthwhile acquaintance—as if such a thing would ever be in question!—and not because of his father, but because of his connection to Uncle Severus! Of course, yes, Severus was the most impressive wizard, aside from his father, whom Draco knew, or could imagine knowing. But still, Uncle Severus was poor, and had no title, and no style, and he worked!

It was at the same time insulting, or nearly so, and totally new, strange, and maybe even a little bit refreshing.

He looked at Uncle Severus, made eye contact, and Opened. "What should I do?" Well, those are the closest words to what he sent, or rather, laid out for Severus to pluck from his mind. Really it was more a mix of sensations: this boy is so weird, what is he, is this a good idea, is he worth it, why are you attached to him so quickly?! And most importantly, would Father approve of this?

In reply Severus turned to Harry. /Show him./

Harry's eyes widened. /Here?!/ He glanced around the store, only now realizing how long they'd been there and how empty it was.

/I arranged some private time for us. The proprietress is in the back room handling a private client. Draco's mother, however, may return from her own expedition shortly. Show him./

/Why? I thought you said—/

/What did I just say about him? You changed the terms of the alliance. He wants to know if you are worth forming an attachment that unorthodox and open ended. Show him!/

With a heavy sigh, Harry turned to Dudley. /Which one this time, Big D?/

Dudley had been following this exchange and now gave Snape a calculating look of his own. /Will he protect Harry?/ he signed to Snape.

Snape's eyebrows rose. /Harry is far safer with an alliance with Malfoy's son than with his enmity./

Dudley frowned, mulling over those words, but apparently found them mollifying. He turned back to Harry.

Draco caught Snape's eye again. Their hand talk is so creepy!

No more so that what you and I do, the man replied. Draco shivered. Snape was skilled enough to pluck messages and sensations from the top of Draco's mind unnoticed, unless Draco was really focusing on it; Draco had no such ability, yes, and could only Receive when Snape Pushed, and that was usually uncomfortable.

Harry raised his brows at Dudley's suggestion. /What?! That one? It's—/

/Impressive. Yes./

/And exhausting./

/Come on, next stop is ice cream. You can handle it!/

Rolling his eyes and cracking his neck, Harry acquiesced. He turned and hopped back up on the pedestal. He hesitated for a moment, then turned to face the mirrors, preferring the awkwardness of seeing his own face over that of the empty store.

Dudley stepped up facing him and held his hands up. Harry laid his hands flat against Dudley's and for a moment it looked like they were both trying to unseat the other they were pressing so hard, but then Harry began pulling back, slowly, as if it were very difficult. As a small gap appeared between their hands, sparks flicked within it, all flowing to Dudley from Harry. The lights in the room seemed to dim.

Snape watched intently, wand out, tracing intricate patterns at his side, unseen by any of the boys.

The boys finally straightened, and Dudley stepped back and to the side, beginning to sign rhythmically, the same few signs over and over. Snape watched bemused, as the signs didn't seem to mean anything. After a few cycles Harry began to sign as well.

Harry's signing was curt, disjointed, his movements alternately graceful and harsh. There was a rhythm to his signing, but it was difficult to identify or follow, whereas Dudley's was as steady as the bass line of a rock song—

Glowing lines, faint but recognizable, appeared over Dudley's hands, and suddenly Snape could hear it.

It was the bass line! A deep, hypnotic repetition of chords, so low and quiet it was felt far more than heard. Harry had given a muggle magic! Limited, useless even, and wholly dependent on his own project, but unprecedented!

Snape heard Draco's gasp as he saw the lights, and again when he felt the bass. Partly, he assumed that to be because Draco had almost certainly never heard a truly rapturous bass line.

A mere heartbeat or two after the bass became audible, the lights appeared over Harry's hands as well, far brighter than those over Dudley's. They trailed from his fingers in lines, flew in flashes and arches, flared out and died in patterns like muggle laser lights. Some flew out and began circling their part of the store, pulsing in time with Dudley's rhythm, seeming to steal the light from the store's magic lanterns.

Soon, they could hear the music as well, though not the word, an alternative rock classic, by turns cynical and disillusioned, and then hopeful and cathartic. Snape felt tempted to let it sweep him away, as he'd often let such things sweep him away in his misspent youth. Draco was entranced!

In the midst of the light show, the colors, flashes, swirls, was Harry. Wild yet controlled, graceful yet forceful, swaying to the music that poured from him and surrounded them. His eyes were locked on the mirror, but through it on the lights themselves, as if listening for inspiration or direction for the next creation.

When it finally wound down and the lights returned to normal, Dudley was sweating, but proud; Harry was visibly drooping; Snape was impressed despite himself, and Draco…

Draco would later say that his entire world shifted during that short performance. Music like he'd never experienced, magic like he'd never seen. He walked up to Harry, closer than was usually appropriate for those not close friends.

"How did you do that?" he said in a whisper.

Harry was too tired to blush, but he shifted uncomfortably. He held up his hands, focusing his gaze on his own fingertips "The magic wants to be, to be part of us, even though it's also in us, and is us, sort of. I just, I let the music have it, or let it have the music? I'm not sure. I think about the music, about how it makes me feel, and what it makes me want to do. Then I just…let go." A small shower of sparks appeared over his palm and floated out into the room, fading as they went.

"Can you teach me?" Draco said.

Harry frowned. "I don't know. I mean, I can try, but I don't know if I'm good at teaching, or even if…I dunno," he glanced at Snape. "It, uh, sounds like it might just be a me thing?"

"It is unprecedented manipulation and control of unfettered magical energies, Draco. I know of no magical theory currently developed to assist in the deliberate acquisition of this skill."

Draco looked between the two. "So, if I learn it, I would be the first. To lean it deliberately?"

Harry shrugged and Snape nodded shrewdly.

Draco stuck his hand out again. "Potter, I would be honored to enter Hogwarts with you as my friend and ally." He seemed about to say more but snapped his mouth shut.

Harry raised an eyebrow. "No strings attached. Just friends? Help each other if we can, watch each other's backs and all that?"

Draco nodded. "Yes."

"Deal."

Looking back on this moment, watching the two boys reach for each other, Snape became convinced that every single time in his life when he had been required to exercise extreme self-control, to maintain regular breathing and dearth of facial expression, no matter what horrors the Dark Lord was executing or what ridiculous stunts the students had pulled or what insane plot Dumbledore was suggesting— every single one was merely practice for this moment. The moment when potential bitter rivals became allies, when societal rifts going back generations slammed back together, when planets tilted on their axes. Neither boy could have any inkling the significance of this.

Lucius, no doubt, would see an alliance with Potter as a coup for Draco.

Dumbledore would see an alliance with the Malfoys as a threat to Potter.

Both would be out of their reckoning. These boys, especially Harry, were already too independent to follow tropes. A Potter with the political savvy of a Malfoy, a Malfoy with the freethinking audacity of a Potter: this was the moment the fate of the world changed.

Harry took the proffered pale hand. Draco shook their joined hands thrice, then let go with a jerk as a spark of blue lanced suddenly around their hands and settled into the back of Draco's right wrist. "Sorry," Harry muttered.

Snape cleared his throat, causing them, and belated Dudley, to turn towards him. "Well done, gentlemen. Now that the pleasantries are over, perhaps I should inform Madam Malkin that we are ready for her services? I shall fetch her. Draco, perhaps you can help your new acquaintance select some appropriate casual attire?"

Harry was slightly alarmed at the anticipatory gleam that sprang into Draco's eye as he looked Harry up and down. Snape turned to go but was arrested by a musical voice calling from the back.

¨Draco, darling!"

Dudley saw Snape stiffen, but he made no move to interfere as the most elegant woman Dudley had ever seen—in real life anyway. Hot Damn, she looked like she walked right out of one of his mom's fashion magazines!—walked out of the back area of the store. He guessed she had been the private client this Mrs. Malkin had been working with. The woman had long pale gold hair, just slightly curled at the ends, and half piled in meticulous loops on top of her head. Her light blue ensemble shimmered with threads of silver, and breezy overlays and sashes floated behind her. Her shoes were somewhere between the fearsome stilettos his mother envied in the magazines (just always mocked) and ballet slippers, but with sturdier heels and covered in a shiny, jewel studded fabric. Her handbag and nails both perfectly matched her outfit.

She was clearly extremely wealthy and showed it in every aspect of her appearance. She also shared a very strong resemblance to Draco.

Dudley couldn't help but feel that all the time and effort his mother spent on her appearance was because deep down she wanted to look just like this. Svelt, beautiful, confident, sophisticated…He shook his head. That was a loosing battle! But he wasn't entirely sure he blamed her for trying.

He and Harry shared a wide-eyed look. Lucky Draco seemed to be the sentiment.

Sure enough, "Mother," called Draco, "I'd like you to meet my new friend, Harry Potter."