Chapter Thirty-Nine: St. Grogory's Primary School

"I can't believe you made me did that."

"I didn't make you do anything," Harry laughed. "All I did was push you with my nose."

"She probably thinks I'm some uncultured buffoon like Weasley," Draco moaned.

"She was giving you hints that she was interested and was trying to test out the waters," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "But then you acted all mopey, so she thought you weren't interested."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "How did you know?"

Harry grinned. "You didn't notice her when you were riding me around?"

"Don't say it like that!" Draco said, grimacing. "But, no... how did she look?"

"She couldn't take her eyes off you."

"Everyone was watching. What made her so different?"

"What made her different is that she approached you afterwards. She didn't need to - she didn't ask you where the loo was or about a possible sale. She was just trying to make small talk. Not to mention she was totally fine with you ogling her." Harry paused, his cheeks turning pink. "Also deer have a really good sense of smell. Like really good."

Draco paled. "You didn't."

"I can't stop myself from being able to smell things!" Harry protested. "Anyway, to wrap it all up, the smells she was giving off, I couldn't tell what they meant exactly since I'm a bit new to this, but they grew stronger as she approached you. As though she was really nervous and getting more so as she came to you."

Draco stared at him. "Harry, don't tell other guys that."

"Wasn't thinking about it," Harry said. "Just take her words for what they're worth - she's cautiously interested because she doesn't really interact with people outside her house - and prove to her that dating a Gryffindor, specifically you, would be one of the best decisions she would ever make."

Draco flushed.

"To be honest, I think that's the outcome she's hoping for, but you've changed so much since you guys last talked that you're almost a stranger to her. At the same time though..." Harry grinned. "There would be a rare person who would not appreciate the person they're attracted to opening themselves up to them the way you did. Without reserve, putting everything on the line and holding nothing back."

Now that Harry mentioned it, Daphne seemed most pleasantly speechless when Draco told her quite honestly that he would be willing to risk humiliation for a chance with her. In all his memories of her, she was very rarely impressed. She was polite, but when the other kids would brag about their family's wealth or power, she would turn away, uninterested - Draco himself had been one of those kids. Her family had decent amounts of both, but it was clear she cared for neither.

But then what did she care for? No doubt she was ambitious - she paid attention in their classes and her work was anything but lacking. But what was she working for? What was her goal?

Draco was brought out of his reverie by Harry.

"By the way, I think it's time I take my leave." Harry had been staying at Malfoy Manor for two weeks now. He missed the shop. He had still been able to make it to his lessons with Nicolas, but it was exhausting.

Draco nodded. It was getting close to the school year. Madam Malkin would surely miss her apprentice turned son in everything but formalities. "I'll tell my parents you wanted to go rejoin your herd or return to the wild or something like that. That I had let you go. That you'll likely be back next year."

"Thanks."

"Wait, let me take off that ridiculous collar..." As Draco reached out and unclasped the collar, he did not miss how wrong it felt. The stag, an embodiment of Harry's strength and power, was collared at his home, and he was now releasing it, as though he was doing Harry a favor and not the other way around. With the collar off, he kept a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'll see you at Hogwarts. Maybe Madam Malkin's," he whispered, almost reverently, as if to make up for how Harry had been treated the last two weeks, as if to convince both of them that Draco himself had never once believed their charade.

Harry considered him for a second before smiling and saying, "See you." When Draco let him go, Harry touched the gemstone underneath his robes, and with a bright light and a crack, he disappeared, taking along with him the warmth and comfort that Draco had started to crave for every summer.

...

Eager to return to work, Harry arrived at Madam Malkin's shop before the latter was even awake. He had just finished setting up shop when an owl flew into the shop with the morning paper.

"Oh, Harry! You're here early! Did you have breakfast yet, dear?" Madam Malkin asked as she descended the stairs to open up her shop.

"I haven't, Madam Malkin, but I'm not hungry," Harry said.

Noah jumped down the stairs, sausage in mouth, as he threw on his outer robes. "I'm late, I'm late! Why did no one wake me?"

"You had a late night, Noah - "

"Ah, can't be helped then." Noah kissed Madam Malkin on the cheek and rushed out the door, ruffling Harry's hair quickly on his way out.

Harry found himself smiling as he turned to Madam Malkin, who calmly went over to prop the door open, officially opening her shop for the day. It was early morning, so they had time before the first customers arrive. This was his favorite part of the day - the peace of the morning.

"The Ministry really needs to prioritize work-life balance," Madam Malkin mumbled. "Noah forgot his lunch!"

"We can stop by the Ministry later today to hand it off to him," Harry suggested.

She hummed in agreement.

Harry looked down at the Daily Prophet. On the front was a lady whom he immediately disliked. He didn't know why, but with his sharpened senses and instincts these days, he didn't need to know why to know that she was bad news. "Madam Malkin, who is that?" he asked.

Madam Malkin leaned over his shoulder to look. "That's Dolores Umbridge. The Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic." She frowned. "Noah hates her. He was Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes long before she got to where she is. Although he never got any bad treatment from her, he was also her indirect superior before her promotion, so that's not saying much. However, he does have friends in the office who has told him about her 'tyranny.'" She shook her head. "Bad apple that one."

"I see." Harry read the article. "She recently got a law passed that any place employing werewolves must provide Wolfsbane Potion every full moon."

"Yes." Madam Malkin waved her wand and a pile of scarves folded neatly onto a shelf. "No place of employment would do that of course. It would be too expensive."

"Why did the Wizengamot pass the law then?" Harry asked.

Madam Malkin's lips tightened. "According to Noah, she actually marketed it as legislation to help werewolves because many werewolves would do almost anything for Wolfsbane Potion. Everyone knows it's just a sham of course - looks good for the Daily Prophet. The reality is that it forces many werewolves into unemployment. Most people don't care - anti-werewolf sentiment is strong."

"I see." Harry was sympathetic and, not for the first time, felt helpless. He was no politician - he had no desire to be one, and he didn't think he'd make a good one even if he tried.

"Harry!"

Harry was shaken out of his thoughts. He turned to see Hermione beaming at him. "Hermione!"

"I have exciting news to tell you!" Hermione was practically bouncing on her feet in her excitement. "I got a job! Here, at Flourish and Blotts! Starting next summer!"

"Really?" Flourish and Blotts was right across the street from Madam Malkin's. "Good for you! Must be a dream job for you!"

Hermione's grin was contagious. "Oh it is! I've talked to the owner, and he was very impressed that I can read so fast. He said that on breaks, I'm free to read whatever I like. If I like a book, I can even write a little review for it and attach it to the display."

"That's wonderful!"

"And the perks of the job! I can practice wandwork, get access to all sorts of books without having to wait for school for access to the library... Oh Harry, thank you so much!"

Harry's eyes widened. "Me? What did I do?"

"You working at Madam Malkin's gave me the idea to look for a job in Diagon Alley. Mom and dad were nervous about the idea at first, but I told them about you working right across the street, and they warmed up to the idea. Mom, dad, over here!"

Mr. and Mrs. Granger came over, looking as though they felt out of place but trying hard for their daughter. They relaxed a bit upon entering Madam Malkin's shop. Madam Malkin had clearly made a strong impression on them the summer before, and Harry and Hermione had shopped for hours together after the Weasleys and the Malfoys left.

"Hello, young man," Mr. Granger greeted Harry cordially. "How have you been?"

"Very good, Sir," Harry said. He thought for a second before saying, "Would you like to buy some robes today? For yourselves?"

"Is that appropriate for us? We're not wizard or witch," Mrs. Granger said tentatively.

"Most muggles don't buy robes," Harry said. "Mostly since there'd be little use for them in the muggle world. However, you could always wear them in Diagon Alley."

They exchanged glances before Mrs. Granger said warmly, "That would be nice. Thank you!"

"You sure know how to get business!" Mr. Granger said lightheartedly.

Harry grinned. "I'll have your Galleons by the end of the day."

As Madam Malkin waved the Grangers over, Hermione whispered to Harry, "That was so thoughtful! I've been trying to find ways for them to feel more at home in the wizarding world, but... you know, they're muggles. And they try their best to be part of this world since, well, they're my parents, but..."

Harry nodded his understanding. "I get it. We'll make them feel like this is their second home."

...

"So Harry has been working here since he was eight?" Mr. Granger asked in disbelief, watching Madam Malkin fit his wife. "That's rather young."

"Yes it is, but he wouldn't take no for an answer!" Madam Malkin chortled. "Wizarding laws set the age limit for working children to 13. However, Harry's a bit of a special case because he was emancipated when he was eight."

"Emancipated!" Mr. Granger frowned in confusion. "My apologies. We thought you're his mother..."

Madam Malkin beamed at him.

"Ah, well, um..." He seemed unsure as to how to voice what he wanted to ask.

"Hermione has talked so much about him at home," Mrs. Granger chimed in. She lowered her voice. "We think she has a bit of a crush on him! Not a dinner passes without Harry-Potter-did-this, Harry-Potter-did-that!"

Madam Malkin's eyebrows shot up.

"Right," Mr. Granger interrupted his wife. "Um, we were hoping to hear more about him from someone who has a more balanced view of him." He was beginning to look rather uncomfortable. "He seems like a very nice young man, and no doubt he has been a good friend... but... um..." He fidgeted. "She's our only daughter, our only child," he said lamely.

Madam Malkin blinked before nodding in kind understanding.

"And she's..." Mr. Granger looked around nervously. "She hasn't had many friends coming in to Hogwarts. I'm just worried that she's not thinking straight... Going after the first boy kind to her... And she's been hurt so often before..."

Madam Malkin selected her words carefully. "She is a bit young. At that age, no child is thinking straight. Harry, to me, is a delightful child, and I know him well enough to know that he would avoid hurting your daughter if he can help it. He is very kind." She paused. "However, he has not mentioned to me about any interest in girls. And girls that age tend to mature faster than the boys. I'm not sure hurt is avoidable, especially if she's as into him as you say she is."

Mr. Granger's shoulders slumped. "I'm just trying to protect her."

Madam Malkin smiled sympathetically. "Why don't you get fitted by him? That way, you'll get to know him better."

The man nodded and waited his turn as Harry was fitting Hermione.

...

Harry knelt down to hem up Hermione's robes slightly - while she had grown over the last year, he had overestimated her growth. As he did so, he sniffed. What was that smell? It was a light, warm, citrus smell.

Humming to himself, he wondered if he should tell Hermione that whatever she used smelled quite nice. Probably not. It sounded a bit creepy to him. He settled for allowing the smell to put him in a happy mood and hoping that Hermione would continue to use it.

"My parents and I are visiting France starting next week," Hermione said. "Are you planning on doing any travelling this summer, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "No plans to." If he was going to be honest with himself, he wasn't much of a traveler. It might be a genetics thing because from what he knew about his family, they were the quiet sort, preferring to spend most of their time in the countryside, rarely making their way to London let alone outside the country.

"Well, if you want to, you know, join us," Hermione began, glancing at her parents. "I can ask."

Harry considered it. "It's okay, Hermione," he finally said, smiling. "Enjoy your trip with your parents."

Hermione nodded, looking disappointed.

After Hermione was done, Mr. Granger stepped up to get fitted.

Mr. Granger watched Harry work for a while. They hadn't really talked that much before. Everything he knew about Harry was either secondhand from Hermione or observation. However, there was a way to how Harry moved about that he had never seen in an adult before let alone a child.

The boy moved with both confidence and humility, a strange combination. He wasn't just moving to get something done. He moved as though he was serving and he was confident in his service.

"Do you read a lot, Harry?"

Harry grinned. "Loads, Sir. Although not as much as Hermione, I think."

"Really? Hermione thinks otherwise."

Harry hummed thoughtfully.

"You didn't start Hogwarts until eleven, right? Where did you go to school before?"

"Before I was emancipated, I went to St. Grogory's Primary School, Sir. After I was emancipated, I studied on my own," Harry said.

Mr. Granger frowned. He wanted to ask how Harry was certain that he got a rounded education studying on his own, but there was a more pressing question. "St. Grogory's you say? Hermione attended that school for a bit."

Harry paused but didn't answer.

Mr. Granger turned to his daughter. "Do you remember seeing Harry at St. Grogory's?"

Hermione blinked back. "That's a long time ago, Dad. I don't remember much about it."

Mr. Granger's frown deepened. Hermione had attended barely a week at St. Grogory's before one day returning home in tears, so scared that she refused to go another day at that school. They couldn't get her to tell them what happened, and nothing they did could get her to go to that school again. Neither punishment nor reward - she had been so resolute that she would simply sit on the floor of her room and refuse to budge.

While Harry didn't seem the type, it made Mr. Granger very uncomfortable. After all, his daughter was traumatized after attending that school, and he didn't know who was involved.

It couldn't be helped. He had to know. "And were you involved in any... delinquent activities?" he asked Harry.

"No, Sir," Harry said softly.

"Did you take part in bullying or harassing or anything of that sort?" he demanded, refusing to ease. After all, the sweetest personalities can hide the worst characters.

"N-no, Sir," Harry said, shaking his head, bewildered.

"Dad, what are you doing?" Hermione asked, confused. Her father had seemed to get along with Harry fine just a few minutes ago.

Mr. Granger gave Harry a hard look. "Hermione, you may have blocked out what happened at St. Grogory's, so you may not remember. But I remember. You came home, looking... broken." He swallowed. "We never found out who did it, but..."

"And you think Harry did it?" Hermione asked, horrified. "Dad, he's not like that!"

Mr. Granger shifted uncomfortably. This wasn't a conversation to be having in the shop. He wasn't good at this sort of thing - he had only meant to have a light conversation with Harry, but once St. Grogory's was brought up, he could not ignore it. And as awkward of a conversation as it was, as uncomfortable as he was, as much of an asshole as he felt like he was being, he was still a father first and foremost. "I'm not saying he is. I just..." He trailed off.

"I don't remember much of primary school, Sir," Harry said, his head bowed, his voice kind.

It was the accommodating attitude that made Mr. Granger felt like an asshole. Had Harry gotten defensive, perhaps it would have been easier doing his fatherly duties. As it was, the boy was making it exceedingly hard. It was probably hard for his daughter to understand, but he desperately wanted Harry to be the boy he seemed to be.

"But I will see if there are any potions or spells that can help me remember better," Harry continued. "I can assure you that I have never harassed nor bullied anyone. But maybe my memories will show something relevant."

Yes, Mr. Granger really wanted Harry to be the boy he seemed to be. Harry had just taken his concerns, which Mr. Granger, as clumsy as he was with words, had expressed as implicit attacks on his character, and responded to him so graciously that Mr. Granger no longer felt like a jerk. His concerns were taken for what they truly were, not for how they sounded. Rather than feeling like the evil father, he simply felt like a father. Which brought him great relief because he didn't want to alienate his daughter by pushing away her wizard friends, especially if they were innocent.

Not knowing what else to say, Mr. Granger simply said, "Thank you."

Harry smiled at him and continued his work.

...

When they got home, Hermione ran to her room and immediately dug into her childhood journals. She had stopped writing in them, but she likely had something on St. Grogory's in there.

"Hermione?" Her father was standing in the doorway awkwardly. "Are you okay?"

Hermione looked up. "Yeah. I'm just trying to find anything that can help me remember what happened at St. Grogory's."

"Oh. I'll leave you to it then." He paused. "I don't dislike your friend."

She smiled. "I know, Dad. You're just awkward."

"Yeah, I am." Smiling sheepishly, the man left.

Hermione returned to her journals. "Here it is," she mumbled. Even as a kid, she was a lover of words - she learned to write early. Her entire journal was in capital letters since she had had a lot of trouble with curves when starting out. However, the important thing was that it was somewhat legible and contained drawings to clarify things. "Today, I start St. Grogory's Primary School..."

...

...Mrs. Ruddock was very nice. I made my first friend - Emily Rosanwood. She liked to draw, and she drew really well.

Recess was fun. There was a lonely boy. He is always by himself. I wonder why.

Emily said he wets himself every night. Gross.

Hermione's eyes widened. Even with her shaky childhood drawing skills, she recognized her drawing of Harry. The rounded glasses gave it away.

Apparently, her child self thought it was appropriate to accompany the entry with another picture of the moon and Harry sleeping and ... peeing on his bed. Hermione's face turned beet red, and she quickly flipped the page. She'll need to burn that.

...

Mom said that mean rumors are often untrue.

I asked him if he wets himself every night. I feel so bad! I made him cry! The rumors were false, but he thought I wouldn't believe him. I believe him.

His name was Harry Potter, and he was really nice.

Hermione was glad she knew better than to believe rumors as a child. She would never be able to forgive herself had she caused her friend such grief and added to his suffering, especially with what she knew about his early life.

So they had met. Many years ago.

But why couldn't she remember any of this? She would've remembered if she had a friend. After all, she didn't have any until Hogwarts.

She continued reading.

...

He blew dandelion seeds at me, and they turned into flowers! He covered me in flowers! Flowers! It was like magic!

I really like him.

Even at such a young age, Harry was magically gifted. Controlled use of magic without a wand. Incredible.

Hermione blushed at the thought of the young Harry covering her in flowers. It sounded like something he would do - an innocent act of honoring his first friend.

The drawing itself, while messy, conveyed the beauty of the scene. And yet, there was an ache that came with the beauty - the ache of what-could-have-been. Had she continued going to St. Grogory's, no doubt their friendship would have matured over time and strengthened when they went to Hogwarts. Perhaps she could have eased his difficult life. If only a little.

...

I told him his clothes are too big. And he should take care of himself. He's really thin.

He said he would try.

Her heart clenched painfully. That sounded so Harry. Knowing what she knew now, having seen his memories, she wished she had done something for him then. She hoped she hadn't made him felt bad. He was likely already doing all he could.

...

Sam Suther is a mean, mean, mean boy! He's the one who spreads lies about Harry peeing his pants every night!

I yelled at him in front of everyone so they all know what a liar he is.

I felt good. Like a hero.

Hermione ran her hand down the last page. And that was it. Nothing more about St. Grogory's. Nothing more about Harry Potter. What happened? She couldn't remember any of it. Even with the words in front of her, she couldn't see it in her mind's memory.

Sam Suther. His name sounded familiar. However, her memories couldn't quite catch on.

I yelled at him in front of everyone so they all know what a liar he is. I felt good. Like a hero. Out of everything that had happened in her life, those words made her feel most accomplished. As a child, she had been able to do something for Harry. Too bad she can't remember any of it. Who would have thought the boy she stood up for as a child would become who he was?

Sighing, she decided to write Harry her findings. As she wrote, she thought. Harry was a Legilimens. Maybe he could help her recover her lost memories.

...

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