As much as I love the books, I regret to say that all of Harry Potter belongs to J K Rowling. This includes all of the characters except for Ryua (who's mine) most of the places, and an awful lot of the spells. Oh, and if you see something that looks like one of your stories, I'm really, really sorry. I don't mean to plagiarize. I've just read a lot of really cool fanfics, and they melt into my brain, but I'll try not to use any of it.

Diagon Alley

Ryua was almost vibrating as they stepped to the special floo fireplace their family connected directly to private rooms at all of the important locations of the wizarding world. Her Father would never be seen with soot on his face, or hair disheveled, so each room was completely private and contained a full toilet, complete with every sort of grooming spell available. "Your turn, Ryua," Narcissa said, proffering the jar to the excited girl. Draco had just disappeared in a flash of green fire, and though they had both been through to other wizards' houses a number of times, this was the first time either had gone to a 'commoner' place like Diagon Alley.

Ryua grabbed a handful of the grey powder and threw it on the hearth. "Diagon Alley!" she said clearly, and stepped forward. Thanks to the family's wealth, the Malfoy private network was a much calmer ride than those experienced by most witches and wizards on their way to such a busy place. She stepped out of the fireplace at the proper grate, and found herself in a small but rich room, with a full length mirror on the left wall. Ryua was about to defiantly walk out, hair slightly ruffled from the trip, but then felt her mother's hand on her shoulder. Ryua sighed, and turned back to tuck her hair back in its elegant, uncomfortable little bun her mother insisted on.

Two minutes later, Ryua had seen more people than in her entire eleven years on the earth. And so many different types! She saw some skin that was as dark as her favourite dark chocolate truffles, and some as pale as hers, and even some with freckles, like the disgraced Weasleys in her family tree. Her family all had pale blond hair, and even her mother's slightly darker gold was nearly white in comparison to the shades of reds, browns, blacks, golds, and even one lime green. There were tall people, and short, and thin, and huge, and everything in between, dressed in robes that made Ryua either jealous or appalled. While her robes were undoubtedly a better quality than most she saw, and could not even be classed in the same category as others, her parents restricted her colors to black, with accents of green and silver.

On her way into the back of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, she stared hungrily at rich reds, blues, purples, yellows, and colors which seemed undecided in hue. Her school list, however, said black, so black was what her parents would buy. She vowed to come back someday, however, and completely blow her Father's account on brightly colored clothes. While a pleasant witch took her behind a curtain to fit her robes, she heard someone else come in. She peeked around the edge and saw her stuck-up brother talking all superiorly to a slight, nervous looking boy with messy black hair and a pair of broken glasses over shocking green eyes. She turned back to let the saleswitch measure her arms, and then suddenly looked out again.

Sure enough, there was a scar, a thin lightning bolt almost hidden by a lock of hair on the boy's forehead. This is Harry Potter? That scared kid? The one Father is always blaming his non-existent troubles on? He doesn't seem like much of a villain to me. Well, I guess we'll see. The saleswitch finally finished with Ryua's measurements, and asked "Anything else, dear?"

Ryua was about to say no, when she had a sudden evil thought, like she was supposed to. "Er, I don't suppose I could get something in color, too? My father would flip if he saw me in it, but I don't much care..."

"Of course," the witch said conspiratorially, "Of course, I could never sell clothing to a child against parent's direct orders, but did they say anything about pyjamas?" At these words, Ryua forgot all about talking to this mysterious Harry Potter and shook her head gleefully.

Ten minutes later, she strode out of the shop, her bags of school robes under her arm. "Well, it's about time," Draco drawled, "What kept you?" "A lady is allowed to take her time, brother dearest," Ryua said, smiling sweetly at her twin.

"Indeed she is, Draco, and you would do well to show a bit more courtesy to any girl, even your sister." Narcissa said with just a ghost of a smile. "Now, let's go for wands." Draco took all of twenty seconds to find his wand, black ebony with Sweedish Longhorn dragon heartstring (perfect for curses). He was in for a long wait, however, as Ryua was still trying after about ten minutes. "Well, you are being a contrary one, aren't you? Never mind, we'll find you your wand, now... here, try this one. Pine and unicorn hair, 11 inches," Mr. Ollivander murmured, proffering yet another wand.

Ryua sighed, taking yet another wand she knew to be a failure. Sure enough, it was cool in her hand, and didn't even glow when she waved it. The crazy old man just kept giving her these flexible, soft, feminine wands good for charms, and with cores of unicorn hair to boot. The only wand she had liked at all was one similar to her brother's, with a core of dragon heartstring, and Ollivander had snatched it away, even though it made a half-hearted sputter of sparks. "Mr. Olivander, if you would..."

"Well, I suppose we could try it, at least. Here. Dragon heartstring, cherry, 12 ½ inches..." Did this freaky guy just read my mind? Oh, well this wand was at least more her line. It still only glowed palely at the tip, though, and it was snatched immediately. Norwegian Ridgeback with willow (good for charms again!) was a complete dud, and so were about a dozen others. "Oh, fine then, be that way. Here. Excellent for your curses and counter-jinxes in Defense class. Peruvian Vipertooth. 13 inches of maple. A stubborn wand." Now this was more like it. A shower of silver and gold sparkles cascaded to the floor as she waved it. "Of course, of course, I shouldn't even bother... That will be 15 galleons, thank you..." Mr. Ollivander hustled Ryua and the now very bored Draco out the door, who walked over to the perfume shop their mother was at. "A pity. I so hoped she would be different. It's going to be a dangerous place for a dark witch in times to come. May she choose a better path than her family."