Harry Potter of Number Four, Privet Drive, was proud to say that he was perfectly normal, thank you very much. He was the last person you'd expect to be involved in anything strange or mysterious, because he just didn't hold with such nonsense, as the Dursleys would say.
...
Well.
...
Most of the time.
…
Alright.
…
Some of the time.
…
OK, really not that often at all.
Harry's appearance wasn't strange. He was a bit short for his age, and maybe a bit too skinny. But his skin was clear and light. His black hair was messy, but not out of the ordinary. And certainly nothing a good shower, a brush, and maybe some hair gel wouldn't fix. His clothes were a bit large, but that was the style these days. His face was nice, but androdgynous, in the way of any young child a person didn't know. And his eyes were a pleasant shade of green.
While a casual glance wouldn't point to anything very odd or strange about the small 5 year old boy, a deeper look at his face would shock anyone. His eyes were a "pleasant" green, but only if one enjoyed the thought of a horrible villain in a cartoon or movie, or possibly a radioactive slime. His eyes were simply a poisonous, viridian, glowing green. And if that wasn't enough to startle a person, looking into them would make a man shudder. His eyes were the eyes of a soul that had seen too much, felt too much, and experienced too much for any young child to have ever been exposed to.
There was no way those eyes were natural.
Harry's life wasn't odd. Sure, he didn't have parents, but he lived with his Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and their son, his cousin Dudley. Harry went to school, went home, did his chores, and his homework. At school he was quiet and polite, but didn't have any friends. But the teachers liked him. He kept out of the way and out of trouble. When Harry was at home, he was also quiet and polite. Harry always did his chores, and was very good at them for his age. Harry rarely went anywhere else. When the family left the house, Harry usually stayed at home.
When Harry was at home, he was good. Well, Harry tried to be good. In fact, he tried very hard to be very good. But sometimes, Dudley would run into him, and he'd fall into something, and that was always Harry's fault. Sometimes, he wouldn't get to have breakfast or dinner for several days after one of these episodes. If he broke something when he fell, they would definitely lock him up, and Harry didn't want that. So Harry did his best to avoid his cousin.
He went to great lengths to stay away from Dudley. He would do all the outside chores he could for Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. He often watered the flowers and picked the weeds, trying to avoid his family's notice. But sometimes Dudley would come find him anyway, and Harry would run. But boys will be boys, they're so active at that age.
No one knew his parents were tall. No one knew he had started cooking many of the meals. No one knew he didn't get to eat the meals he cooked, or many other meals for that matter. No one knew that if he didn't complete all his chores he'd be locked in his room. No one knew that his room was the cupboard under the stairs.
To the world, Harry was normal.
But Harry could do things. He could do things that no one else around him could do. And he knew those things made him special. So he did the cooking and cleaning and yard work. He dealt with the cupboard and lack of good food. Harry did all these things because the Dursley's wanted Harry to be normal. And normal meant Harry was good. And good meant less punishment from the Dursleys.
But Harry knew he was special.
And one day, everything changed.
Not that Harry knew that of course, as busy, broken down, and starved as he was. But change it did, and things began moving that would impact things for everyone. Both Harry, and the Dursleys, but also an entire world of which he yet knew nothing.
Because on that day, that otherwise completely normal day in November, one Lord Lucius Malfoy, of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy, spoke to his bonded goblin Account Manager, Gornuk, about his new investments. And one of those investments just happened to be Grunnings, the company Vernon Dursley worked for as a director, selling drills.
Now Lucius was a wizard, and usually, he would be entirely uninterested in anything muggle. But the goblins had sent him prospectus from several muggle companies, and quite frankly, the opportunities were astounding. It was so inexpensive to invest in muggle companies, especially due to the exchange rate between their currencies, but there were. So. Many. Muggles. The returns were immense.
And so Lucius, Lord Malfoy, of the Sacred 28, who had never had anything to do with Muggles before, found himself deciding to visit one of his investments. Grunnings. A visit where he was introduced to head director, Vernon Dursley, a whale of a man. A man who boasted of his wife's skill in the kitchen (Petunia, she's grand, a real chef, oh yes, her tea society loves her!) and his son's academic prowess (My Dudders, strapping young lad, just turned five in June!). Dudders? Lucius sneered internally. What sort of name was that for a boy? And really, he was five, how much could they really tell? Not like his little Draco, also five, whose tutor was already working with him on reading, writing, and learning basic maths.
However Lucius found himself intrigued. So he wheeled and dealed, coddled and stroked, and poured his not inconsiderable amount of charm and charisma into getting a dinner invitation with the Dursleys. Not because he liked muggles, of course not, no. But because if he was going to have to do business with them, he'd better learn how they worked. What their likes and dislikes were, how they spent their free time, their hobbies. He needed to know everything he could about the average muggle, and this rotund man seemed a good place to start.
Lucius plotted and schemed his way to a dinner invitation in 3 weeks' time at the Dursley's residence, Number Four, Privet Drive, Surrey. Vernon was only too happy to oblige the man who now funded more than half the company. Mr. Grunnings, the owner, would be so proud if Vernon could encourage further investments from the man. If Vernon had known what would happen in the years to come, it is wondered if he would have waited so long, or would never have invited Lord Malfoy at all. But he didn't, so he couldn't, and things progressed as they had, with no one the wiser that life as they knew it was about to change.
December 1985Tonight was the night.
Petunia was dressed for the evening, a voluminous apron covering her clothes, for she must be immaculate to meet her dear Vernon's work acquaintance. A very important one, as he'd mentioned every day for the past three weeks since inviting the man and his family for a small dinner party at their home. Dudley had been freshly bathed, combed, starched, and frilled in a suit and bow tie, which privately, Harry thought might just pop right off his neck, as his face was already turning red and the ribbon did appear to be straining. But a red Dudley meant a screaming Dudley, which Harry didn't want.
So he turned back to the stove where he was stirring the soup for Aunt Petunia, careful of his left hand which he had accidentally set on the burner when he was trying to reach before Petunia so kindly brought him a stool. Harry's face was flushed, but because of the heat, and not due to an imminent temper tantrum. Dudley had been told to be on his best behavior. Of course, Dudley didn't really know what that meant, so his mummy told him that if he were very quiet and only spoke when someone spoke to him, she'd get him some ice cream and a new toy the next day. Temper tantrum averted.
Harry knew what his best behavior included. There would be no toy or ice cream for him. He would spend the evening serving, helping Aunt Petunia with the meal in the kitchen, and then pretending he didn't exist in his little cupboard under the stairs. Of course that would mean he couldn't turn on the light tonight. Even though the light bulb had been broken for as long as he could remember, and wouldn't turn on for anyone else, whenever he flipped the switch, the light would turn on. He wouldn't be able to read his book, the one that Dudley received for his birthday and Aunt Petunia had attempted to read to him once before he ripped it out of her hands and threw it at her. Harry had seen it slide under the couch after bouncing off Aunt Petunia's face and had snuck into the parlour to retrieve it when the family was out for dinner one night. His teachers said he was very good at his letters and words, and he enjoyed going through the book and finding the ones he recognized. He could recognize almost all of them now, and was working on a list to take to his teacher of the ones he didn't know yet so he could read the whole book. But without the light, he wouldn't be able to see his book, or write his list on the scrap piece of paper he took from the trash.
But that was normal. So he'd help Aunt Petunia prepare the dinner, and maybe he'd get a piece of bread and cheese to go with his cup of water before they sent him to his cupboard. And if not...well, he'd been hungry before.
A few hours laterIt was 6:15 pm and the Malfoys were due at 6:30. Harry was still in the kitchen finishing up the dessert while Aunt Petunia went to make sure Dudley was still her charming baby boy, and hadn't gotten anything on his suit. She stepped into the kitchen to ensure everything was ready for the evening.
"Boy!" she snapped out, "is everything ready as I told you?"
"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry replied. "The hors d'oeuvres are in the refrigerator, ready for serving. The roast is in the oven on warm and is also ready to serve. I'm nearly finished whipping the cream for your dessert."
A triple knock sounded through the house.
"Fine. Your meal is on the table, you finish that cream, eat quickly, and get to your cupboard. Make sure you aren't seen!" Petunia hissed as she stepped out of the kitchen to answer the door.
Harry could hear their greetings as he finished whipping the cream and put it away in the refrigerator so it would be chilled by dessert. He quietly sat down at the table to eat his piece of stale bread and hard cheese. He gulped down his water, and as quietly as possible, put the dishes in the sink to be washed later.
He could hear the conversation from the parlour. Knowing the doorway to that room could see the door to his cupboard, he resigned himself to waiting until they adjourned to the dining room. He hid in the corner between the refrigerator and the outside door, where his stool was, so he would be hidden when Aunt Petunia came in for the hors d'oeuvres. He would sneak out a bit later.
The door swung shut behind his aunt as she exited the kitchen. She had leveled a glare at her nephew, but continued on her way without saying anything. Harry was grateful for the reprieve, but knew it would only last as long as there were guests in the house. He couldn't hear the conversation very well, but he listened for footsteps, and when he heard them moving to the dining room placed himself by the door to make his escape as soon as he heard the chairs scrape signalling they had been seated. He'd have to be quick so that Aunt Petunia didn't see him when she came in for the soup and salad.
He wasn't sure how he managed it, but he did. He opened the door on one side of the kitchen just as Aunt Petunia opened the other. He dashed out, opening the door to the cupboard silently, sliding in, and closing it with hardly a click behind him. He laid down on his small mattress and prepared to go to sleep. He figured a small nap would help him when his Aunt inevitably woke him later to wash all the dishes.
Prior to the dinner party, Malfoy Manor"Narcissa," Lucius spoke as he knocked on his wife's bedroom door. "It's nearly time to leave."
"I'm ready, Lucius," Narcissa replied, opening the door to her husband.
They weren't in love in the traditional sense, Narcissa was a beta, but she was his best friend. They had been betrothed to marry shortly after Hogwarts. Lucius had presented as an alpha, but was unable to locate an omega to suit him, and so his parents, despairing for the fate of the Malfoy line, betrothed him to the third daughter of the Blacks, a good family with strong magic, in hopes that they would produce children for the line.
"Come, my flower, let us check on Draco before we leave."
"Of course. I know you said the Dursleys invited him along as well, but I'm just not comfortable allowing our son around muggles."
"It will be fine, Cissa, they will understand." Lucius set his wife's mind at ease. They had decided to tell the Dursleys their son had recently been sick and they were worried about him passing it on to the Dursley's young son. Of course wixen couldn't get the same illnesses as muggles, but the muggles didn't know that, and didn't know they were wixen at all.
They two made their way to Draco's room. His naming was apt as he was enamoured with dragons. He had murals on two walls of a scene from a dragon habitat with various dragons going about their lives in paint. The other walls were plain, his furniture sitting in front of them so as not to detract from the magical art. His ceiling had been charmed to show the stars outside, regardless of time or the weather.
The doting parents quietly opened his door, peeking in to see Draco playing dragons with a few of the house elves.
"Draco," said Lucius, "It's time for your mother and I to go."
"Mother! Father!" gushed Draco, jumping up from the floor. "I don't want you to go. You must stay and play dragons with me!"
"I know you want us to stay son, but we talked about this." Narcissa cut in, heading off the whining that was sure to begin. "The muggles don't know anything about magic and we just can't risk you in their world just yet. Perhaps after you're seven and have a bit more control." She patted his hair, and placed a kiss over his brow.
"Yes, mother," Draco said with a pout.
"Now, Dragon," Lucius commented with ease, "you stay here and play with the elves. They'll make sure you have dinner at the usual time. I believe I heard something about dragon fingers…" he said with a wink to Tansy, Draco's nanny elf.
Tansy took the cue, "Oh yes, Master Draco, we's bes having Dragonsies fingers at supper, and chocolate marshmallow tartses."
"Yes, well," Lucius put in, "we will come in to check on you when we get back. And, if you behave, tomorrow, you'll be allowed to work with me at my office."
"Really, Father?! Really!?" Draco confirmed, eyes lighting up at the prospect of spending the whole day with his father.
"Of course, son." Lucius replied. "Now, enjoy your evening." He stepped forward and enveloped Draco in a hug, Narcissa right behind him with a hug and kiss.
"Blessed be, Father, Mother." Draco offered, formally saying goodbye.
"Blessed be, son," Lucius replied.
"Blessed be, my little dragon," said Narcissa. And Draco returned to the elves and his dragons while Lucius and Narcissa exited their home, and walked to the edge of the anti-apparition wards so they could apparate to Surrey.
"Ready?" Lucius checked with Narcissa, holding out his arm for her to take.
"Of course," she replied, anchoring her arm with his as he spun on his toe and whisked them away to Surrey.
They arrived in a small park, just down the street from their destination, and while hidden from view, waved their wands to transfigure their clothes into something appropriately muggle. Lucius's robes became a tailored black suit, silver vest and tie, while Narcissa's became an elegant evening dress, not too formal, and black. Diamonds sparkled at her ears and neck, subtly indicating their wealth. Her evening wrap was edged in white fur, definitely classy, and not overstated.
They made their way to Number Four, Privet Drive, and quietly marveled over the lack of distinction and small size of the accommodations they passed. The lack of magic was also a bit discomfiting, but they were well able to handle it. As they drew near the small home, Narcissa's eyes narrowed, the only sign of her dissatisfaction.
"Do they truly live here?" She questioned her husband.
"Indeed," he responded.
"When you said they were well off for muggles, I never expected their home would like this," she said in a whisper, waving her hand in an incredulous arch.
"I know, my sweet, I know. But I need to know how these muggles think so I can utilize their numbers to increase our wealth," Lucius responded in kind. He was not overly pleased to be here himself, but needs must.
Lucius raised his cane, and knocked thrice on the door. They heard the click of heels on a polished floor, and the door was opened by an average looking woman, with a long thin face, and though she was smiling, it looked rather pinched. Not knowing her well, they didn't realize that was her usual expression, and were somewhat put off by the initial encounter.
The woman gestured them into the home, and with overdone obsequiousness said, "Welcome Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy to our home. I am Petunia Dursley."
She then nodded towards her husband who had come up behind her, "And of course you, Mr. Malfoy, know my husband, Vernon Dursley. And this is our son, Dudley, who is five," she said, pointing out the boy who was holding his father's hand.
"Vernon, dear, didn't you say they had a son near our Dudley's age?" Petunia questioned, not seeing a child with the two in front of them.
"Yes, our son Draco," Narcissa responded, "he has been ill a few days, and while we hoped he would be able to attend this evening's gathering, he was still a little under the weather. I hope it isn't too much of an inconvenience."
Petunia tittered, "Of course not. I'm so sorry to hear he's feeling unwell. I do hope it isn't catching…"
"It's not," Lucius put in quellingly.
"Please, allow me to take your coat," said Petunia to get past the awkwardness of standing in the doorway.
Narcissa handed over her wrap, which Petunia saw hung carefully on the rack, as Vernon guided them into the parlour.
Petunia went into the kitchen, hoping the little freak had finished everything so he could return to his cupboard. He had, thank goodness, but that didn't stop her from freezing him in place with a harsh glare as he sat next to the wall and the refrigerator on his stool. She pulled the appetizers out of the refrigerator, glared at the boy once more, and flounced out of the kitchen to her guests.
"Have you heard about the drill bit? Actually, it's too long. I wouldn't want to bore you," Vernon had just finished his drill joke. The Malfoys chuckled half-heartedly. The passed a few minutes eating the hors d'oeuvres and sipping drinks Petunia obligingly prepared from the decanter set off to the side. Conversation was rather stilted, centering on Vernon's accomplishments at work, Dudley, whose accomplishments didn't seem much like accomplishments to the Malfoys, and Petunia's gossip about the neighbors. The Malfoys didn't have much to contribute seeing as they had no neighbors, didn't really care about drills, and could tell their little Draco was so far ahead of this boy they couldn't even compare.
At least the social portion was over quickly, and they moved into the dining room. Petunia brought in the soup and salad course from the kitchen. As she set the dishes on the table, Lucius and Narcissa exchanged a look. Both had noticed a slight tingling on their skin. They made it through the first course with no mishaps, and on to the roast with vegetables. The tingles increased to a prickle down their spines. Lucius raised an expressive eyebrow at Narcissa, who gave an imperceptible nod. There was clearly magic in this home. The question was where and how. They hadn't felt anything earlier, so it clearly wasn't the Dursley's. When dessert was brought out a fruit and whipped cream concoction that would please the most finicky, the prickles turned into a wave that washed over them both leaving gooseflesh in its wake.
Lucius was now more intrigued than ever. The man had given no indication of knowing anything about magic, Lucius had felt no magic, had seen no aura to indicate that anything magical or magically related should be occurring in this house. Narcissa knew that look on his face, the one that said he had a puzzle that he just had to solve.
After dinner they sat and sipped coffee, making further uncomfortable small talk until small Dudley began yawning at the table.
"Oh, my," Lucius said, making a show of looking at his wristwatch, "is that the time? We must be going. We do want to check on our Draco before bed."
"Of course you want to see your little boy," Petunia gushed as she gathered Narcissa's hands with her own. "It was lovely to meet you and have you in our home. I hope we meet again soon."
Lucius and Vernon were shaking hands and making manly noises about the food and seeing each other at the office.
As they left the dining room, and passed the parlour, Lucius's gaze was drawn to a small door he hadn't noticed previously. It was three quarter size, and set under the stairs. Normally this would be a space for storage and so he was unsure why it had garnered his attention. As he and Narcissa passed it however, the prickles they had felt at dinner grew in intensity. Clearly there was something magical in there.
Of course now was not the time to investigate, so both Lucius and Narcissa shuttered their curiosity behind polite society smiles, made their goodbyes, and left the small home. They hurried to the woods where they apparated away, and made their way quickly inside the manor. They checked on Draco, who was soundly asleep, clutching his stuffed dragon with Tansy ever watchful from her blanket in the corner of the room. Lucius and Narcissa nodded to her as they left the room.
As they made their way to their wing of the house, they gave mutual agreement to discuss the strange magical feeling later. It would allow both of them to evaluate the feeling and see if they could find any reference to anything similar in the library.
And so the evening passed quietly away, Lucius and Narcissa scouring the library for references to feeling magic. Unbeknownst to them, a small five year old boy was being shaken awake in a cupboard, and hauled to the kitchen to clean up the mess generated by their small dinner party.