Normal

"Speaking"

'Thinking'

Writing

Chapter 3

Harry sat on the floor in a back corner of Flourish and Blotts, surrounded by stacks of books he'd collected from the second hand bins. They were all on wizarding nobility and magical government, subjects Harry decided he needed to know as soon as possible. He didn't know anything at all about the wizarding world, and he was terrified of making a mistake.

Happily, he was getting better at figuring out wizarding money, though he didn't want to spend what he had too soon. He didn't think the goblins (he'd looked up what the non-human bank workers were called) at Gringotts liked him, and he was used to staying out of the way of people who disliked him. Plus, he was had no way to earn more money.

"Why are you sitting on the floor?"

Harry jumped to his feet, spinning around to face the speaker. A little dark haired girl of about ten was looking curiously at him, but he couldn't think what to say. He'd never really talked to those his age before, especially girls.

"There are chairs over there." The girl continued, pointing, and Harry swallowed and gathered his courage to answer.

"Yes. But I... I need the space... for the books."

She glanced down at the stacks of books he'd collected, then giggled. "Yeah, I guess you do. Why do you have so many books?"

"Er..." Harry glanced down at them, as if they would answer for him. "I want to learn more about... magic and wizards... and stuff."

"Oh! Are you a muggleborn?" Her tone was curious, but there was a sudden undercurrent of wariness present as well. Harry heard it, and tried to think what to say that wouldn't drive her away.

"Um... maybe?"

The girl looked a little taken aback. "Maybe? How can you not know?"

Harry tried to explain, but his dry mouth made it tricky to speak. "I... I never knew my parents... they died when I was little, and I was... raised by my aunt and uncle. They're not magic... but I don't know if my parents were too. Muggles, that is."

To Harry's relief, the girl didn't leave. In fact, she looked intrigued. "You know, I bet I can tell you if they were our kind or not. There's a wizarding genealogy book that I read at home all the time that lists all the wizarding families. Some aren't on there because they're not very old, but your parents might be. What were their names?"

A little surprised at her enthusiasm, Harry stammered, "Um... I-I don't know their first names... but my last name is Potter."

At this, the girl's eyes widened. "Potter? Are you Harry Potter?"

Panic bloomed in Harry's stomach. Nothing good ever came of people recognizing him, or singling him out. He backed up a bit, but nodded in answer to her question.

Her eyes got even bigger, and went to his forehead, which was, as usual, covered in dirt, and hidden by his hair. She looked back at his eyes, peering closely, then declared firmly, "Well, if you're Harry Potter, then your parents were definitely our kind. Wait here."

And with that, she turned and darted between the bookshelves and out of sight. Harry stood completely still for a moment, then started to gather up the books he wanted, intending to buy them and leave as soon as possible.

He hadn't taken more than two steps toward the front when the girl returned, now holding two books.

"Here." She said, and herded him neatly onto a chair at a little table nearby. "I found these."

She set the two tomes on the table, and Harry looked them over, curious despite his nerves. The girl started flipping through the large black one that was embossed with the title 'Nature's Nobility, A wizarding genealogy', while Harry looked over the slightly smaller brown one, called 'Greatest Wizarding Names of the Twentieth Century'.

His breath started coming faster, and his hands trembled on the tabletop. Did one of these books hold his parents' names? Or information about his family?

"Here it is!" The girl exclaimed, drawing Harry's attention back to her. She pushed the wizarding genealogy book toward him, and pointed at the page she had it open to. "Look, there they are."

Peering closely at the page in order to read it, Harry found a tree belonging to a wizarding family called the Blacks. One of them, Dorea Black, had married Charlus Potter. Heart pounding at the familiar last name, Harry followed Charlus Potter's line to his brother, Fleamont Potter, and Fleamont's son James Potter, and James' son... Harry James Potter, born July 31st, 1980. There was no mistaking it, Harry thought. That was his birthday and name, though he hadn't known he had a middle name.

James Potter was his father, and he had the man's name as part of his own. And his mother... he found her connected to James by a little gold line: Lily Potter nee Evans (muggleborn).

"Your dad came from a long line of wizards, and since both his grandparents were magical he was what we call a pureblood." The girl explained when Harry didn't say anything. "Your mum, Lily Potter, had muggle parents, so she was a muggleborn. And since you only have one set of magical grandparents, that makes you a halfblood."

She pushed the brown book toward him then, open to one of the last chapters, and her voice became quieter. "Here. This is how I knew your name. How every witch and wizard in Britain knows your name."

Tearing his eyes reluctantly away from his parents' and family's names, he looked at the chapter title of the other book and was struck dumb.

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

'I'm... in a book.' His mind went completely blank, and all he could do was keep reading.

Arguably the most famous British wizard of the twentieth century is Harry James Potter, last of the House of Potter. At the age of one year and three months, he became the very first person to survive a direct attack from the Dark Wizard He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, a man (or monster) responsible for thirty-one years of muggle, muggleborn, and wizarding killings, tortures, and disappearances from 1950 to 1981 (see ch. 17).

To this day, it is unclear exactly what happened, but Ministry experts from both the Auror Office and the Department of Mysteries examined the scene and pieced together the official report.

The Potters, like many families opposing the Dark Lord, had gone into hiding. While Lord Potter continued to attend work at the Auror Office, his wife and child remained in an unknown location, protected by many wards and enchantments. The most powerful of these enchantments was the Fidelius Charm, a tricky bit of very powerful magic that will make a location a secret none will be able to uncover, even if they stood outside the house itself. The only way to find a place hidden by this charm is to be told its location by the Secret Keeper, the witch or wizard chosen to keep the knowledge of the hidden location.

The Potter's Secret Keeper was Sirius Black (see Death Eaters, ch. 18), a man the Potters believed to be their friend. However, Black was a Death Eater spy, and he used his position as Secret Keeper to reveal the Potter's hidden home to his master, the Dark Lord.

And so it was, on Halloween night 1981, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named passed through the Fidelius Charm and other wards surrounding the Potters' property. Lord Potter was killed by the Killing Curse in the family's living room after a fierce duel, and Lily Potter was struck down by the same curse in front of her son's crib. But when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named tried to kill the youngest Potter, he failed and was, miraculously, destroyed.

Based on the evidence left behind, it is believed that the Killing Curse (found to be the last spell cast by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's wand) rebounded when it struck the Potter child and hit its caster instead. There was an immense magical backlash that blasted a hole in the roof and walls of the room, and broke all the spells on the property (everything from temperature monitoring charms, to the Fidelius). Harry Potter remained miraculously alive, but was left with an auspicious cut in the exact shape of a bolt of lightning on his forehead.

Before the authorities arrived on the scene, Harry Potter was removed from the wreckage of his home under the authority of one Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump of the Wizzengamot, ect. ect.

The only official record of that night that was not sealed by the Auror Office or the Department of Mysteries comes from Dumbledore himself, who gave an interview in the Daily Prophet and addressed the public. His words were a confirmation of the rumors that had spread from the Aurors to their friends and family since it was discovered that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had vanished.

Below is a copy of the Daily Prophet's extra edition published in the early hours of November the 1st, 1981:

Daily Prophet: Extra Edition, November 1st 1981

You-Know-Who Vanquished at Last! Harry Potter: The-Boy-Who-Lived?

By Nicolas Knockby

It is with great joy that this reporter pens these words. For decades, magical Britain has been engaged in a horrific war that nearly brought the country to its knees. Witches and wizards lived daily in constant fear and oppression, forced to hide their bloodlines and deny their beliefs.

But no more!

The Daily Prophet was visited before the dawn of this morning by Albus Dumbledore, who brought with him the news that so many of us had longed to hear: He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was defeated.

Here is an account of this author's unforgettable experience:

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederacy of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and holder of the Order of Merlin, First Class, enters the dark lobby of the Daily Prophet at 12:57am. With tired movements, he sits down before me and the Chief Editor, Charles Charlemagne, but as he tells the wizarding world this miraculous tale, his eyes shine with joy.

"Earlier this very night, nearly three hours ago in fact," Dumbledore begins, "Voldemort visited the home of the Potters."

(Lord James Potter worked as an Auror in the Ministry, and his wife, Lily Potter, was pursuing a Mastery of Charms. Their only child is a son named Harry, a year old last July)

"Lily Potter, being the prodigy in charms that she was," here Dumbledore smiles fondly, "cast the Fidelius Charm over her family's home, and assigned her husband's closest friend, Sirius Black, as Secret Keeper

"Alas, the Potter's trust in their friend was misplaced. Voldemort found the Potter's home, an impossible feat unless the Secret Keeper betrayed the secret.

"James Potter engaged Voldemort in a ferocious duel the living room, but was tragically struck down. Voldemort then ascended the stairs and entered the nursery of the Potter's son, Harry. There, Lily Potter stood between the dark wizard and her child, but she, like her husband and so many others, was killed.

"Voldemort then turned his wand on the youngest, and last, Potter, intending, I believe, to finish off the line forever. But," and this reporter can testify to witnessing the tears in the eyes of the venerated old wizard as he finishes his tale.

"The curse Voldemort used to attempt to snuff out the last of the Potter rebounded upon its caster. Harry was left with a scar on his forehead in the shape of a bolt of lightning, and Voldemort was conquered."

Dumbledore pauses before concluding, in a quiet and sober tone, "I do not know why Voldemort's curse failed to kill Harry Potter. But I am overjoyed that the war is finally over."

Dumbledore then explains that he has taken Harry Potter to a safe location, and assures everyone that the young survivor will be protected and out of the public eye until his first year attending Hogwarts.

The war is over. Voldemort is gone.

Thank you, Harry Potter.

All this author can add is his own thanks to Harry Potter.

Finished, Harry sat as though he were carved from stone.

"Is this true?" He asked, and his voice sounded distant.

The girl nodded, watching him closely. "Yes. You survived the Killing Curse, you stopped You-Know-Who, and every witch and wizard in Britain knows your name."

Harry said nothing, merely sat in silence. He felt as if he should be sad, or scared, or even angry, but all he felt was numb.

It was surreal. He was famous. His name and past was in this book. His parents had been betrayed by their friend. They had been murdered by an evil wizard. Murdered. Not killed in a car crash.

Unconsciously, he reached up and touched his forehead. The strange scar he'd always had... it came from the night his parents had died. It wasn't simply an oddity anymore. It was a physical reminder of everything he'd lost... everything that man had taken from him.

"Astoria!"

The girl jumped up and glanced toward the front of the store. "Sorry, my sister's calling me. It was nice to meet you Harry Potter."

Automatically, he stood up as well and bowed to the girl - Astoria.

"It was nice to meet you. Thank you for explaining everything to me. And for the books."

"Oh!" For some reason Astoria had turned pink, and she executed a hasty curtsy. "No problem. Um... bye!"

She darted away, leaving Harry behind with a stack of books, his parents' names, and a world that had been completely turned upside down.

It took an hour to come to terms with the fact that he was not only the son of a witch and wizard, but that he had survived a murder attempt as a baby, and had apparently defeated an evil wizard.

Did I... kill him? The thought made Harry's stomach turn. Was he a murderer? How had he survived? Why hadn't his parents? Why had their friend betrayed them? Was the green light that haunted his nightmares part of that night? Was the woman's scream he heard in his dreams sometimes... his mother?

He didn't know. But he decided that laying low was a good idea. It had kept him out of trouble at school and at the Dursleys (usually), and he hoped the same would work here. As long as he kept his scar hidden (which wasn't a problem given how long his bangs were and how dirty he usually was), no one would know he was Harry Potter.

With this decided, and resolutely ignoring the hard knot of anxiety in his stomach, Harry gripped his bag with both hands and darted through the crowded street toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. He pushed open the door, then jumped as a bell rang and a squat little witch with a rosy face came to greet him.

"Yes, dear? What can I help you with?"

"Er..." Harry cleared his throat, resisting the urge to flatten his bangs over his forehead. Staying unnoticed was much easier when he didn't know he was famous. "I... I need robes... for Hogwarts."

"Oh?" The witch gave him a quick look up and down, before asking, "First year, dearie?"

Harry nodded and she laughed a bit. "You're so small, I thought for sure you were here for an older sibling or something. Well, we'll get you fixed up. Come this way."

She led him to the back where a pale, blonde boy much taller than him was standing on a stool being measured. The rosy faced witch pointed to an empty stool, and Harry stepped onto it before she could speak. She beamed at him, and pulled out her wand.

"Well dearie, if you'd set your bag down, I can start measuring."

Nodding again, Harry slid his bag off his shoulder and set it gently by the stool. The witch flicked her wand, and a measuring tape appeared, whizzing about his body taking measurements as she took notes on a parchment.

"Hogwarts too?"

Harry looked up, surprised that the other boy was addressing him. He nodded, and the blonde kept talking.

"Know which house you want?"

Harry had thought about this ever since he'd read about the house system in Hogwarts, a History. Grateful to have something other than evil wizards and Secret Keepers to think about, he answered with more eagerness than he would usually. "Er, yes. I'd like to be in... in Slytherin or Hufflepuff."

The other boy's eyebrow went up. "That's an odd pair. Usually if you want Slytherin, Ravenclaw is a good second. Why Hufflepuff?"

"Um." Harry tried to put it into words. "Well, I know I'm a hard worker... and having friends would be great. Slytherin is good too, because I can find people there who are... well, like me."

"Like you?" The blonde's other eyebrow joined the first high on his forehead. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Now that he was explaining it, Harry felt a little more confident. "Slytherin is for people who act one way, but think another because they have to to get what they want. People call them bad, but I think that's because Slytherins do more than others to get what they want."

"I see." The blonde was now looking at Harry with an appraising gaze, taking in everything from his torn and ragged muggle clothes to his dirt stained hands and face. "Forgive me, but you don't seem the ambitious type."

"I'm not really." Harry agreed readily. He didn't have big dreams or anything. He just wanted... well, he wanted a place to call home. "I just... I want people who I can help and who will help me."

There was a beat of silence which Harry broke, worried the other boy would decide to leave. "What house do you want?"

"Slytherin." the blonde said immediately, "I can see your point about Hufflepuff, but I'm afraid I'll have to disagree with you about it being a good second to Slytherin. Personally, I think Hufflepuff is too... relaxed for me."

"Would Ravenclaw be your second choice, then?" asked Harry, delighted to be talking to a boy (wizard!) his age.

The blonde nodded. "Both my parents were in Slytherin, but I think they'd be proud of a Ravenclaw son as well. What about yours?"

"Oh..." Harry's face fell, but he quickly squashed down the turmoil this question brought up. "Both my parents are dead, but they were in Gryffindor together." He'd discovered that in the copy of Nature's Nobility that he'd bought earlier.

"Gryffindor parents?" The blonde's nose wrinkled in an admirable sniff of disdain, "And you want Slytherin?"

Harry shrugged, having read a bit about the rivalry between the two houses. "I don't think I'm brave enough to qualify for Gryffindor. I tend to look out for myself before looking out for others."

Truthfully, he'd never had to look out for another person before. And he was more worried than he wanted to admit at the thought of entering a house his parents wouldn't have liked. But then, he didn't know them so he didn't know if they'd be proud of a Slytherin son or not.

"Hm." The boy bowed suddenly and introduced himself, "I'm Draco Malfoy."

Harry returned the gesture, glad he'd practiced, but wishing it was as elegant as Malfoy's bow. "I'm... Harry..."

He didn't want to tell this boy that he was Harry Potter. He didn't know exactly what would change, but he knew the blonde would treat him differently.

"Harry..." Malfoy prompted, waiting for Harry to finish, but Harry shook his head.

"I'm just Harry."

Again, Malfoy looked him up and down, this time glancing at Harry's bag as well. "I don't think you're 'just' anyone."

Harry shrugged, his mouth going a bit dry. "I try to be. I don't like drawing attention."

Before Malfoy could say anything else, the rosy faced witch who'd been taking Harry's measurements spoke up. "That's you done, dearie. We'll finish altering your robes in an hour or so. Would you like to come back and pick them up, or would you like us to owl them to you?"

"I'll pick them up, thank you." Harry said quickly, picturing an owl swooping through Aunt Petunia's kitchen window and dropping a brown paper package in front of his cupboard door. Even though the Dursleys were gone, having owls swooping in and out of the house seemed like pushing his luck.

"And what name will you be picking them up under?" She asked, with a mischievous grin. "'Just Harry'?"

Harry nodded sheepishly. "Yeah. 'Just Harry'."

He hopped off his stool, picked up his bag, and handed the shop lady money for his uniform set after he'd asked for the price (3 galleons and 16 sickles).

Turning to say goodbye to Malfoy, Harry was surprised to see that the blonde had also stepped off his stool and was tugging on a set of robes he had probably worn in.

"My mother is up the street looking at wands." Malfoy informed him, "And my father is looking at broomsticks. We're going to meet up at Eyelop's if you want to come."

"Oh!" Surprised and pleased that he was being invited somewhere (for the first time!), Harry nodded. "That'd be nice. I need to send a letter, so I was going to go to Eyelop's anyway."

"Great!" Malfoy led the way, and Harry followed him out of the robe shop. Once in the street, Malfoy strode off with a confident gait that seemed to cut straight through the crowds. Harry had to nearly jog to keep up with the taller boy, but they reached Eyelop's quickly.

Standing by the door was a man that was clearly Malfoy's father. Tall, with the same blond hair and pale face, he wore dark robes with silver linings, and gripped a cane with a silver snake's head at the top.

"Father." Malfoy greeted the older man with a bow, then turned to indicate Harry. "This is Harry. I met him in Madam Malkin's just now and, as he has a letter to send, he accompanied me here. Harry, this is my father, Lucius Malfoy"

Harry met the senior Malfoy's cool gray gaze and bowed with as much grace as he could manage. "It's nice to meet you, Lord Malfoy."

"And it's good to meet any friend of Draco's." Lord Malfoy gave Harry a small bow in return before raising an eyebrow in an expression of curiosity identical to his son's earlier. "Does Harry have a surname?"

"None that he would tell me." To Harry's surprise, the younger Malfoy was actually grinning. "He's 'Just Harry' apparently."

"Really?" Lord Malfoy seemed intrigued, which made Harry hide a wince. This was backfiring. Hiding his last name was supposed to give him more anonymity, not attract people's attention.

"Draco, Lucius." All three males turned to see a tall woman with long dark hair gliding toward them.

"Cissy." Lord Malfoy greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. "Come, meet Draco's new friend."

As Lady Malfoy looked at Harry he was surprised to see real warmth in her eyes, though her expression was neutral. She held out a hand, and he stepped forward to kiss it.

"Such a little gentleman." She murmured as he stepped back. "I'm Narcissa Malfoy."

"It's lovely to meet you, Lady Malfoy. I'm just Harry."

She turned to her son with raised brows. "'Just Harry', Draco?"

"Isn't he interesting?" Draco asked excitedly, becoming decidedly less formal in front of his mother. Harry ducked his head with a blush as Lady Malfoy's warm blue eyes returned to him.

Frantically searching for something to say, he stammered, "Er... I have a... a letter to send, so... your son asked if I'd join him."

"Call me Draco, Just Harry." The youngest Malfoy was smiling openly now, and Harry felt himself relaxing a bit.

"Well, we don't want to prevent you from completing your errands." Lord Malfoy opened the door and bowed his wife inside, adding, "We're here to purchase an owl for Draco, so we'll join you inside."

Draco and Harry followed Lord Malfoy into the slightly loud, slightly smelly owl emporium. The Malfoys headed over to the cages of owls on display, and Harry turned to the counter.

"Excuse me." He got the attention of one of the assistants nearby, and pulled out his response letter for Hogwarts. "I'd like to send a letter."

"Alrigh'" The young man whistled, and a large tawny owl swooped down from the rafters and perched on a stand by the counter. "Price's by distance, so where're you sending that letter to?"

"Hogwarts."

"Kay, that's abou' five 'undred forty miles... so at one knut for ten miles..." The assistant consulted a page in a worn leather book open on the counter in front of him, then nodded decisively.

"That'll be 1 galleon, 16 sickles, and 6 knuts."

Harry couldn't follow that math, even though he was more familiar with wizarding currency, so he couldn't say if that price was fair or not. However he didn't really have another option. He'd like an owl of his own (having a pet was something he'd always wanted), but there was no way he could keep one at the Dursleys and he didn't know how to take care of one anyway.

So he handed the required amount to the assistant, followed by his letter, and watched as the young man tied it quickly to the leg of the tawny owl.

"Hogwarts, you." The man instructed and the owl took off at once, swooping out an open window above the door.

"Thank you." Harry called as the assistant turned to another customer.

Harry faced the inside of the store, looking for the Malfoys. They were coming toward the counter, and Draco was proudly bearing a cage that housed an enormous and haughty looking eagle owl.

As his father spoke to the man at the register, Draco grinned at Harry. "What do you think? He's magnificent isn't he? I'm going to call him Mercury, after the Roman god of messages."

Harry eyed the newly named Mercury, wondering if it was his imagination or if the owl was eyeing him arrogantly. He decided it wasn't his imagination as Mercury huffed, ruffled his feathers, and turned his back to Harry.

"Er..." Harry glanced back to Draco. "He seems... regal."

"He is!" Draco exclaimed, either missing or ignoring his owl's actions. "What about you? Do you have an owl?"

"No." Harry shook his head. "I've got no place to keep one, even if I did." And no one to write to, he added silently.

"They don't have to stay inside." Draco looked around at the owls on display, and Harry suddenly felt like Draco was getting carried away.

"I don't need an owl." He said quickly, but Draco just scoffed.

"Of course you do. Every wizard needs an owl." He eyed the store again, but was interrupted as his father finished paying.

"Come, Draco. We'll go look at broomsticks, now."

"Father, Harry doesn't have an owl." Draco looked first at his father, then shot his mother a pleading look. "I'd like to help him choose one."

The Malfoy couple exchanged a look, then Lady Malfoy nodded to Draco. "If Harry accepts your help, then we'll stay a bit longer."

Draco swiveled to face Harry, and Harry couldn't help a grin at the pleading expression on Draco's face. He was clearly used to getting what he wanted, but he made his arrogance seem... charming.

"Fine." Harry could tell he wasn't getting out of this. Maybe he could just release the owl once the Malfoys left. "Please help me find an owl."

At once, Draco grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him toward the back of the store. Harry managed to disguise his flinch with a stumble as he was quickly dragged off.

"Here." Draco dropped Harry's arm to gesture to the wall. "Pick one that stands out to you. A wizard and his owl must be compatible, so choose one that makes you feel... right."

Not understanding what Draco was talking about, Harry let his eyes wander the dozens of owls in cages, on perches, and in the rafters. Barn owls, great gray owls, burrowing owls, great horned owls - there was no end to them. Many hooted down at him, though several promptly turned their backs, and a few ignored him entirely.

"I don't see... a..." Harry trailed off, a flash of white catching his eye. High above his head, a blurry figure soared in a circle, coming lower all the time. With a woosh and a soft hoot, a large, white snowy owl landed on an empty stand in front of him.

She - and he just knew she was female - blinked large amber eyes at him slowly. He stared back at her, entranced. Her eyes were sparkling with intelligence, and she gave a soft coo when he stretched his hand out toward her. Stroking her breast feathers gently with his knuckles, he understood what Draco meant by an owl feeling 'right'.

"Her." He whispered, and she fluttered into the air and onto his shoulder. Turning to grin at Draco, he repeated himself. "Her. She's the one."

"She's quite lovely, Harry." Lady Malfoy had come up behind them and was now smiling down at Harry's new owl. "Do you have a name for her?"

"Hedwig." Harry didn't know where the name had come from - perhaps a book he'd flipped through - but he knew it was right when the owl churred and nipped his ear a bit.

"Great!" Draco looked like he wanted to drag Harry across the store again, but he looked at Hedwig and thought better of it. "Come on, let's go to the counter."

Feeling as though he was in some wonderful dream, Harry counted out 2 galleons and 15 sickles and handed them to the cashier. He left the shop with his very first birthday present on his shoulder, and a box of owl treats under his arm. Looking into her amber eyes again, he knew he wouldn't be able to let her go. Maybe he could convince her to stay on Privet Drive, or at least in Surrey.

This really was the best one he'd had. He'd found out his parents' names, his own middle name, had gotten a beautiful owl that would hopefully be his friend, and met the Malfoys, who were really nice.

'Happy birthday to me,' he thought with a smile.

"Come on, Harry!" Draco bounced in front of Harry, his excited demeanor at complete odds with the formal, composed boy Harry had met in Madam Malkins. "Broomsticks!"

A bell tolled somewhere, and Harry felt his blood run cold. It was four in the afternoon. It was also Tuesday.

Every Tuesday, the family from Number 3 Privet Drive went on a late afternoon run, returning anytime between 4 and 5. If he was seen coming into the house from the street while the Dursleys were gone, Missus Number 3 would be sure to tell Aunt Petunia.

It would be forty minutes by bus to get back to Surrey, and another five by foot to get to Privet Drive. He might already be too late, but he couldn't waste another minute. If the Dursleys ever found out he'd left the house without permission... he didn't want to think about it.

"I can't, Draco." He stepped back, glancing toward the Leaky Cauldron and mapping out the fastest route through the crowds of shoppers. "I'm sorry, but I've got to get back. I've already been here too long."

"Surely your family can spare you for another hour or so?" Lady Malfoy asked, concern etched between her brows. Lord Malfoy merely looked sharply at Harry, who felt as though the man saw through right through him.

Taking another step back, he shook his head. "I can't, I'm sorry. I'm... expected. Thank you for everything, though."

Making a quick bow to the family, he spun around and bolted. Hedwig hooted indignantly as she was dislodged from her spot on his shoulder, but he couldn't stop. Through the crowds, into the back alley, through the pub, and back into muggle London. He pounded down the streets, coming to a halt at the bus stop just as the bus opened its doors.

The whole ride he was on tenterhooks, bouncing up and down in his seat, his panic rising with every red light that stopped them. He realized halfway that he hadn't picked up his Hogwarts robes. He tried not to think about Hedwig soaring around Diagon Alley looking for him.

They finally reached Surrey and he bolted out the doors. Down the street, past the park, and onto Privet Drive. To his horror, the neighbor family's car was already in the drive of Number 3.

Not slowing at all, he bolted up the drive and around the house, wiggled through the gap between the fence and the house, and sprinted to the back porch. As he set his hand on the doorknob to enter, he glanced at Number 3 and froze. The mum was looking at him from her kitchen window. She must have seen his mad dash to the house and him slipping through the gap in the fence.

His stomach felt as though it had been turned to lead and it sank heavily. Entering the Dursleys' house, Harry locked the back door then slid to the ground.

He'd been seen. The Dursleys would surely know he'd left the house.

Moving slowly, he stood and trudged to his cupboard. Collapsing on his cot, he closed his eyes and tried to bring up all the bright, happy memories of his two magical trips to Diagon Alley.

'Lady Greengrass' smiles, his parents' names written above his own, the Malfoy family, Hedwig...'

He was suddenly very tired... his legs shook from his frantic run... and he couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten... or washed... he was alone... his parents had been killed... why had he survived?!... everyone knew his name... everyone would be looking at him... watching him...

Involuntarily, he curled up into a ball and tears streamed down his face as he began to cry silently.

'Everything hurts... I'm hungry... I'm lonely... I want Hedwig... or Lady Greengrass' smile... or... I... I... I want to go home!'

This last thought had him pressing his face into his blanket to muffle his sobs. He wanted somewhere he could go when he was hurt or sad or tired. He wanted someplace where he'd be safe and happy.

He wanted a home.

-Line Break-

It was four more days before he decided to sneak off to Diagon Alley again. The Dursleys wouldn't be back for another two days, and he'd already been seen outdoors once. What would once more matter?

Despite this bravado, Harry left Privet Drive very early in the morning. Everyone (specifically Missus Number 3) was sleeping in because it was Sunday, so he was able to get away unseen.

Once turned the corner and left Privet Drive, he sprinted the rest of the way to the bus stop. Reaching it, he waited impatiently, bouncing on his heels with a heady mixture of excitement and tension. Would the Malfoys be there again? Would Lady Greengrass?

A hoot and the rustle of wings got his attention and he turned to stare in disbelief at the snowy owl perched on the bench behind him.

"Hedwig!" He cried, going to her and stroking her feathers. She hooted once, then nipped his fingers reprovingly.

"I know, I'm sorry I left you behind." Harry stuck his hand into his bag before realizing that he'd dropped the owl treats when he'd run out of the Alley last time. Sighing, he stroked the white feathers in apology.

"Look, I don't have anyplace to keep you. You can go wherever you want."

She barked once and glared at him. Fancifully, Harry imagined her saying 'Foolish human, if I wanted to leave I would have already'.

"Well, thanks for staying." Harry stroked her feathers once more, then stepped away. "Just stay out of sight. I don't want you getting hurt."

She barked once, then took off as the bus pulled up.

When Harry got to the Leaky Cauldron forty minutes later, he darted through the pub, followed a wizard through the brick archway, and entered Diagon Alley. Thrilled at being back again, Harry sprinted straight to Madam Malkin's and ducked inside, hoping against hope they would let him buy his school robes even though he hadn't picked up his order on time.

He spotted the rosy cheeked witch who had taken his measurements last time and nerves suddenly bloomed in his stomach as he stepped toward her quietly.

"Er... excuse me ma'am."

She turned around and her eyes widened as they fell on him. "Well, if it isn't Just Harry!" She beamed, but then shook her finger at him with a frown. "You're a bit late to be picking up your order."

Harry winced and nodded, directing his gaze to his dirty, hole filled trainers. "I know ma'am, and I'm sorry. I... couldn't come before now."

"It's alright, I was only teasing you."

He looked up to see that the smile had returned to her face, and he relaxed a bit. She turned and bustled away, tossing a 'wait a moment' over her shoulder as she went. So Harry waited where he was until she came back, bearing a rather large, paper wrapped package.

"Three sets of Hogwarts robes, five uniform shirts and pairs of trousers, and three ties. All yours, dearie."

Reverently, Harry took the package. Clothes for him. Just for him, not Dudley's first!

"Thank you." It came out as a whisper, but the lady just smiled kindly.

"You're very welcome. You have a good day now, alright?"

Nodding, Harry tucked his clothes (wrapped like a present!) into his bag and stepped out of the store.

His stomach tied itself into knots as he realized he had one last purchase to make: a magic wand. He hadn't worked up the nerve to get one on his last two visits. What if he was kicked out of the shop? What if they said there'd been a mistake and that he wasn't going to Hogwarts?

Shaking his head and shoving his doubts away, he took a deep breath and stepped slowly toward the dusty old shop that was Olivander's: Makers of fine wands since 382 B.C.