Chapter 3: Initiation

Harry wobbled on his feet briefly but had no choice but to quickly recover as Lucius was already half way down the hall and had no intention of slowing or stopping. Harry's traversal of the many flights of stairs was nothing short of heroic due to the throbbing pain it brought him. So concentrated was he in reaching his goal, he paid little attention to where he was going or the areas he was walking through. The whisperings of the portraits flew over his head, and any movement he spied out of the corner of his eye he dismissed as his imagination. Lucius waited impatiently at the bottom of the last flight of stairs, tapping one foot as he glared up at Harry. The boy only had time enough to see which door his host had disappeared through before he was forced to hobble after him as quickly as possible.

It led him down a short corridor, floored with dark wood and decorated imposingly. This hallway opened out into a room bigger than Harry had ever seen. He had to stop just to look about him in awe. The dark wood theme continued through as far as Harry could see. His eyes wandered from the high windows to a table that spanned the length of the room. Vaguely Harry picked out a person seated at the table and he stumbled towards them, hoping it was the gentleman who had found him and not another stranger. As he approached the table, Harry confirmed that one of the people was the person he had followed. However, there were two others seated there that, if he squinted, he could see were sneering at him in an identically shocked manner. The man who led him merely smirked.

"Boy, my name is Lucius, though you are not to use that. This is my wife Narcissa, though you aren't to use that name either, and that is my son Draco. You will call me 'sir' and my wife 'ma'am'. Are we clear?" Harry nodded jerkily, and seated himself when Lucius gestured. He sat stiffly, terrified of disturbing the pristine white tablecloth or the neatly laid cutlery. He could feel the eyes of Narcissa and Draco inspecting him critically, and tried to shrink in on himself. It didn't work. There was quiet for a few minutes while breakfast was devoured. Harry picked at his blood-soaked clothes distractedly. Though in some respects he was far more mature than most six-year-olds, Harry's life had been ultimately sheltered, and even if it hadn't been he was still too young to truly comprehend the life-changing events that were happening around him.

Lucius stood and placed a pair of glasses in front of Harry – which he quickly slid onto his face – before he and Narcissa left the table. Harry could hear them talking rather heatedly from the corridor he had walked through, and he had a definite suspicion it was about him that they were arguing. Draco's eyes bored into his skull, and Harry hated it. He wanted to scream out his frustration and confusion at the predicament he had woken to, but settled for biting his tongue. He was too unsure of himself to risk angering the blonde boy, even if he did turn out to be as dumb as Dudley.

The two adults eventually re-entered the room, but did not retake their seats. Rather, they stood one to either side of Harry and scrutinised him. He could feel colour flood his cheeks. Attention on his person was rare, but being studied like a specimen in a lab was almost too much for him. He sat stiffly but slouched, as nervous children are wont to do, and stared fixedly at the tabletop.

"He's extremely small," Narcissa noted. "Those clothes will be burnt immediately. I shan't have such items in the house. Something must be done with that hair. Look at me boy!" The sharp order made him jump to obey. She peered down her nose at him. "We shall have to have his vision corrected; those glasses are not befitting of…" She trailed off and shared a cold smile with her husband. "He's a little on the emaciated side, which shall have to be rectified. And that posture! I have never seen anything more disgraceful!" She paused, nostrils flaring slightly. Harry bent his head lower and worried at his lip. "On the whole, however, I believe he has potential. We can mould him into a more acceptable form." Lucius nodded, seemingly pleased. Draco looked on in boredom.

"Up, boy," Lucius ordered. Harry slithered out of his chair. Lucius was walking away already. He glanced at Narcissa nervously. She scowled at him.

"Well follow then!" she snapped, and sat back in her seat. Harry scurried after the blonde man, hoisting his trousers as they began to slip past his hips. Lucius sneered at the boy, and snapped his fingers. Harry stumbled back in shock as a short, knobbly creature appeared out of thin air. The little thing kneeled before Lucius.

"H-how can D-Dobby serve you, M-Master?" it asked pitifully. Harry's heart twinged. Lucius' face remained cold and impassive.

"Bring me a child's robe, black," he instructed. Dobby vanished in the same fashion he had arrived. Harry blinked in shock. He couldn't quite believe what had just happened. The little creature returned in a remarkably short amount of time, but it evidently wasn't fast enough as Lucius' foot shot out, sending the squealing creature skidding across the floor. Harry winced in sympathy, looking up at Lucius with new understanding. The black bundle was tossed to Harry. "Put it on," he was ordered. As Harry unrolled it he realised with no small amount of shock that the garment was more like a girl's dress than anything. He glanced at Lucius uncertainly, but received only a glare. He hurriedly pulled on the black robe, displacing his glasses in his haste to appease. Lucius stood behind him, placing a firm, restraining hand on his shoulder. Harry gulped. "Do not panic."

In the blink of an eye they were gone.

When Harry returned that evening he was barely recognisable. They had spent the entire day in Paris, the city where all upper-class wizards shopped. Harry had been dragged from one establishment to another, having new clothes measured and bought for him, having new shoes tailor-made, having his vision corrected, his hair lengthened; by the end of the day Harry's injured leg was throbbing and he was, in a word, bewildered. He had managed to pick up a few French phrases, like 'Bonjour' and 'Au revoir', but the one time he attempted to put his knew found knowledge to use Lucius gave him such a gorgon stare he was nearly turned to stone.

Harry had caught a glimpse of himself in a shop window and had to do a double take. He didn't recognise himself at first, but he decided after much deliberation that he sort of liked the new him. It was a refreshing change not having heavy glasses weighting on his nose. Seeing his incredulous look, Lucius had chuckled coldly and said, "I shan't have a tramp in my house, boy. You will learn to look and act as one of us, and you shall learn quickly." The 'or else' went unspoken, though Harry thought he understood the cryptic meaning.

Lucius ordered him to his room before abandoning him in the foyer. Harry took to the stairs, trying to remember where he had come from that morning and failing miserably. He came across a door that was slightly ajar and, after inspecting the corridor for signs of the Malfoy family he squeezed through.

It was a comfortable library, with stacks of books cramming the shelves built into the walls. The whole room felt light and airy, with a higher than average ceiling, but cosy at the same time. A fire roared pleasantly in the hearth, the flames flickering in the polished surface of the coffee table between two dark green armchairs. Feeling weary, and knowing he wasn't going to find his room without help, Harry climbed into one burgundy seat and proceeded to doze in front of the glowing flames.

As such, he did not hear the door creak open, nor the surprised gasp of a young child. He started when someone cleared their throat purposely, and leapt into an upright position. He relaxed slightly when he saw it was Draco; Harry could handle people his age.

"What are you doing here?" Draco demanded, one eyebrow raised much as Lucius' had many times over the course of the day.

"Why does it matter?" Harry retorted, using the same haughty tone. Draco scowled and threw himself into a chair opposite. They sat in silence, glaring at each other.

"Don't think Father will treat you better than me. You're just a stupid Potter. Everyone knows the Potters are worthless," Draco said suddenly, a malicious gleam entering his eye.

"Says who?" Harry said hotly.

"Says Father, and Father is always right." Harry, finding no retort, sat and seethed until Lucius entered. He glared at Harry down the length of his long nose.

"I thought I instructed you to return to your room, boy. Go." Harry did not move. "Why do you disobey?"

"I…I don't know the way," he explained nervously. Lucius scowled.

"Dobby!" The house-elf appeared with a crack. "Show the boy to his room," Lucius ordered, already moving away to attend his business with Draco.

"Y-yes master. Dobby shall r-right away." Harry followed the small creature in silence, mulling over Draco's words and growing to hate the blonde boy more and more. Dobby led him up two flights of stairs without a sound until, upon reaching Harry's bedroom, he shut the door and promptly burst into rapid speech,

"Harry Potter is here now! Dobby is so glad you has come! Dobby does anything Harry Potter asks, but Dobby is having to go now." He disappeared before Harry had a chance to voice any of the many questions that were bubbling in his head.

He remembered the car crash, of course, and the echo of pain in his leg and chest made him shudder, but after that was a blank patch. How long he had been asleep wasn't really important, he recognised; what mattered was that he had been awake for less than a day, and he was tired and sore and confused and frustratingly lonely. Almost he wished Dudley were there to tease him, because at least that would be familiar, but Dudley was dead now. Harry wondered if the blankness he felt about that was a bad thing; he had never loved the Dursleys, and they had never loved him, but they had been family, and he supposed he should probably be crying like they did on television.

Thinking was exhausting work, Harry decided, and though he knew he would be hungry soon, he was far too tired to care. Kicking his shoes off, Harry clambered onto the huge bed – his bed, he presumed – and slid under the soft covers, settling himself in. It wasn't long at all before he fell into deep slumber.

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