Ok first off, a few of you have stated this is like a sister story to 'Sanity is Quite Simply Overrated' and you aren't wrong, that story is a completely insane Harry dropped in a reality where she begins manipulating Draco to behave at an early age. This one is a perfectly sane Draco being dropped in a reality where she can do her best to make sure Harry doesn't end up so...Harry by being the responsible friend that gave him needed knowledge he never had in his youth.

Now this version of Harry is close to how Draco's old friend was, very intelligent, mature beyond his years, and has a slight vengeful streak that usually plays itself out in the form of pranks. He's still a kid though, so in his mind, the Dursleys are not good people, thus things they like are not good for you (because look at them) and things they dislike must have some value.

Dursleys eat fatty, greasy, and rather terrible for you meats, so Harry finds reasons to dislike things like bacon (which he secretly loves but won't admit it) and goes for chicken when he can scrounge it. The Dursleys always watch television, and scoff at reading books for pleasure, so even though he isn't even allowed to watch TV, he dismisses it in exchange for reading, alot.

He has an easy acceptance of his lot in life because he knows once he's an adult, he'll be shot of them, so he bides his time while doing his best to keep his internal smartassness just that, in his head, because he really does not like getting beaten.

Oh, and I know Wiltshire is a real place, just imagine she's talking about Magical Wiltshire.

Ok, on to the show!

"Boy! Wake up!"

Harry Potter sighed as he sat up from his tatty cot and absently pulled the draw string of his cupboards light, all while his other hand snatched up his glasses and quickly placed them upon their perch on his nose.

There was the familiar *Click Clack* of the lock on the cupboards door then it was swung open to allow him the full view of the horse like visage of his 'loving' aunt.

"Good morning Aunt Petunia," he stated with a flat emotionless tone, one that would not elicit physical abuse, but made it very clear to the woman in question how little regard he had for her.

Harry was not a stupid boy, not in the slightest really. In fact he had the highest grades in his year before Dudley cried to Vernon and Petunia about Harry 'cheating' during tests and thus earning a rather thorough beating for the effort courtesy of Vernon.

He dearly hoped Dudley enjoyed the three days of laxatives being added to his desserts for that little betrayal, Harry may forgive, eventually, but he would never forget a slight unearned.

Still, it wouldn't do to have a repeat of the incident so Harry, not willing to sacrifice his pride, which really, was all he had to his name, decided to learn the art of forgery. He had been at a loss on where to learn said art, until one day he was meandering through a thrift shop Dudley had convinced Petunia to peruse and destiny for once was on his side.

Wishing beyond wish for something to teach him how to falsify his records he was soon startled as a coverless book landed at his feet as if by magic. The yellowing photocopied paper was stapled together haphazardly and as Harry raised a single brow he read the title and smiled.

Snatching up the time beaten homemade tome Harry quickly shoved it into the folds of his over sized hand-me-down shirt and pretended nothing had happened. Once they had returned to Privet drive, and Harry was safely ensconced in his cupboard, he was soon introduced to his first real friend.

The Anarchists Cookbook.

He had learned so many interesting things from that book, how to make black powder, how to pick locks, how to hot wire cars and crack payphone for free calls, it was utterly amazing! It had also taught him what he wished most, to forge his grade cards so the Dursleys would never know how much more brilliant he was than their pig in a wig son.

Still, even though his eighth birthday was today, he had ten more years to suffer under his relatives whims, so he took a breath, let it out, and prepared for the long day ahead.

"Start breakfast," Petunia seethed out as she stepped away from her nephew, who, for his part, was silently hoping she would spontaneously catch fire while watching her soap operas.

Wishful, if ultimately pointless thinking there.

He prepared breakfast as always, and silently hoped his 'family' got infected with a parasite from the shear amount of bacon he was preparing as he added yet another rasher to the plate in the center of the table. He grimaced at the greasy pile of fried meat while shaking his head slowly in disgust, bacon may be delicious, but it came from pigs, which were filthy animals full of disease and parasites.

He would stick with chicken, when he could get it at least, they were delicious and he didn't have to worry about creatures growing in his guts after eating them regardless.

Oh, and suddenly he was not so hungry anymore, that was progress he supposed.

Sighing he stepped away from the table as the horse, piglet, and whale began to devour his mornings efforts, making due with some heavily buttered toast and a glass of orange juice that none of them noticed him nicking Harry flitted out to the back garden.

Munching on his toast while sipping his juice the young boy aged far beyond his years by hardship could openly reflect on the fact that things could be worse, not by much mind, but they could be worse, and he accepted it all for what it was.

Ten more years, and he was free of them all...that was what counted.

Stashing his glass behind a shrub for later Harry reentered the home and began washing dishes without being told to, primarily to avoid getting cuffed on the head for 'being a lazy layabout like your drunk of a father.'

Eventually he was finished with the chores and was soon forced to the front garden where he had to weed out the flower beds.

He didn't complain, it had been weeded yesterday, there really wasn't much to do other than pretend he was working and drink from the water faucet via his nicked glass. Which his incredibly brilliant relatives hadn't realized he had been doing for some years now whenever they 'rationed' his water so why bring attention to it now?

Eventually morning turned to noon, and noon into late afternoon, and that's when his aunt decided to strike.

"Boy, we are going out for our annual steak dinner," Harry refrained from rolling his eyes at that, yes, the annual steak dinner that fell on his birthday, which obviously meant- "and we won't be wasting any of it on you! So you are to clean out the oven while we are gone, when you are done, you will shower and go back into your cupboard until the morrow."

Right.

"Of course Aunt Petunia."

The Dursleys left in a huff, obviously offended by the freak's lack of response to their slight, and so said freak was soon digging through cleaning supplies, not quite sure what he was looking for.

Honestly, whatever, if it wasn't inflammable he'd use it at this point, he just wanted to go back to his cupboard and its many hidden books.

Spraying down the stove, after properly making sure the gas was off of course, Harry began scrubbing the blackened interior down for a time, and eventually he heard a *pop* behind him. Dropping his scrub brush Harry turned around and met the bulbous eyes of a tiny creature with large ears, big feet, and shaking hands.

Harry glanced down at the cleaner he had been using before dryly stating, "I'm not sure which chemical it was that caused it, but I appear to be hallucinating Muppet's at the moment..."

"The Great Harry Potter sir! I is being Dobby the house elf, servant to my mistress the Little Missy Dancy who is being wishing to see you!"

Harry stared at the creature for a few seconds before he shrugged in acceptance after a headache inducing moment of deciphering its speech impediment. Because really, why not?

"Ok why not, lead on," the Muppet creature, Dobby, perked up happily at Harry's easy acceptance and quickly swung open the houses front door whilst dragging Harry towards a girl standing across the street.

As he stopped before her he couldn't help freezing as he took in her...oddness.

She was about his age, wearing an incredibly out of date lacey black dress with a matching parasol resting against her shoulder, ivory skin and...wow.

It was her hair and eyes that forced Harry's indifference away, her hair was white, not the silver grey of old people, or the blonde that Aunt Petunia had, but honest to god snow white. He had never seen anything like that before.

Aside from that, her eyes pierced his gaze with an unyielding intensity, their glacial blue depths turning from him after a moment of cold assessment as she addressed her elf in a kind hearted tone.

"Everything set?"

"Headmaster Whiskers will never be knowing Little Missy Dancy was here!"

The girl smirked in return before nodding to Harry, "Hello, proper introductions are in order I believe."

"Are they?" Harry asked in reply, not really knowing what was going on at this point.

"But of course, manners and decorum are all that separates us from the rabble are they not?"

Harry stared at her as for the first time honest concern began to form in his gut, "I suppose?" Was all he could say in reply.

The white haired girl curtsied gracefully as she soon stood upright smiling towards Harry, "I am the Lady Dancia Alya Malfoy, Heiress to Wiltshire and the Noble Family of Malfoy."

Harry stared at the girl a few moments before she slowly approached him whilst gently taking hold of his right arm, "Hold your hand across your heart like this and bow like that, yes, then you repeat after me, ok?"

Harry was so lost he couldn't even begin to explain it, listening to Dancia he finally nodded slowly before repeating her.

"I am the Lord Harry James Potter, Heir to Pottermore and the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter..."

The girl smiled as she extended her open hand after that, "And after the formal introductions, we make the informal ones." Harry grasped her hand as she bowed her head lightly, "You may call me Dancia, or Dany if you wish, I respond to both."

Harry smiled in return, "I'm just Harry, you can call me that all you want to I suppose."

Releasing their hands from each other Dancia nodded once towards her companion, "Well met Harry."

He smiled as he nodded in turn, "Well met, Dany."

After a moment the snow haired young girl turned on her heel and marched away, all while extending her hand towards Harry with a 'come hither' curl of her fingers. Harry gulped, not quite liking that as he quickly matched pace with her.

"What do you know of your past Harry? Of your parents?"

Harry paused, then replied with, "My relatives told me-"

Dany clicked the fingers of her free hand to silence him while she scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"Everything your relatives told you was a lie, every bit, so none of it counts."

Harry scoffed at that, "Oh so Vernon and Petunia loved me more than anything then?"

Dany stared at him a moment before snorting to herself, "Ok fine, so almost everything they told you was a lie, cheeky bugger..."

She soon led him away from the sidewalk to a small copse of trees, eventually they stopped beneath a mighty oak and with the click of her fingers a table and two chairs appeared, Harry could only stare in surprise.

"Magic, is real. That was done by Dobby by the way, elf magic is rather brilliant like that, take a seat." Harry did just that as Dancia primly took her own chair, a moment later a teapot and a pair of saucers and cups appeared on the table. Dobby quickly appeared out of nowhere and prepared the tea while the girl in front of him smiled.

"Two cubes of sugar, a twist of lemon, and just a pinch of mint, your favorite." Harry had no idea what she was talking about, but the moment he sipped the tea handed to him by Dobby his eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

It really was his favorite! How did she know when he hadn't ev-

"Magic is real, you are a wizard like your father before you, as I am a witch like your mother was. We're members of a secret society of magicals hidden from the rest of the world, the denizens of which we refer to as muggles." She glared to her side while growling out the next bit, "The filthy muggles you live with know all this, but they simply choose to stick their heads in the sand and pretend our kind do not exist as they attempted to beat your birthright out of you."

While this all was...insane, that sounded like Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon without dispute. Sipping his tea Harry nodded at Dancia to continue, and so she did.

"Your father was an Auror-"

"A what?" Harry interrupted in confusion, rather than getting angry Dany sighed as she took a sip of her own drink before replying.

"Sorry, think of it as...a constable, an officer detective, just magical."

Harry's eyes widened at that, his father wasn't a layabout drunk! He was one of the good guys! He was a bobby!

"Anyway," Dany continued, "your mum was a researcher, a...scientist of sorts in the Department of Mysteries, and quite likely, a mad genius." She smiled at that while tilting her cup towards Harry slightly, "In our family, that's quite the compliment."

Harry placed his own cup back on the table as he leaned forward with a look of awe on his face, "We're family?" He had family other than the Dursleys?! Family that actually treated him like he was human!? Why was he forced to live with those... filthy muggles then!?

Dancia leaned back and nodded once, "Third cousins, twice removed if I did the math right. I was raised with all this pure-blood nonsense and it still confuses me so I might be wrong. Anyway your parents were targeted by Lord Voldemort when you were about a year and a half old, yo-"

"Voldemort?" Harry stated incredulously, "As in 'flight of death'? That is..."

Dancia smiled as she nodded, "French, and ridiculous, I know. Unfortunately many of those in power revel in their ignorance as if it was a badge of honor, being monolingual only adding to that. I must say I am a bit surprised you're keeping up with me as you are, being a child and all."

Harry scowled at the girl while crossing his arms, "You're a child as well."

Dancia twirled a lock of her snow white hair while shrugging in reply, "Yes but I am a genius."

"So am I," Harry shot back darkly, her response surprised him though.

"Of course you are, I wouldn't bother being friends with you otherwise, anyway where was I? Right, Voldemort. He targeted your parents, walked right into the trap they had set for him, and murdered them both which primed said trap. Then he aimed his wand at you, and set it off."

At this Dancia ran a hand through her hair and looked deeply apologetic as she tilted her head to the side, "Do you know what prophecies are?"

Harry stared at her a moment before replying in a stilted manner, "They're...messages some people get from beyond that tell what the future is going to be...I think..."

Dancia nodded relaxing a bit as she did so, "Right, the thing about prophecies is that they are so bloody open ended that if you believe in them, you can make it self fulfilling."

Harry tilted his head to the side at that, "Self fulfilling?"

Dancia twirled her finger through a dollop of spilled tea forming a faint brown circle in the white tablecloth, "You think you know the future, so you do everything in your power to either enable it, or avoid it. Ultimately whatever end result you were shooting for occurs because you believed it was fate."

Harry sat their a few minutes processing that, brilliant he may be, but he was still a child and it took some time to digest all this new information.

Eventually he nodded to himself and met Dancia's concerned gaze, "Ok...What of it?"

Dancia sighed, "The entire reason Voldemort went after you was due to a prophecy, one he, and the man who forced you to live with those filthy muggles, both believe in. It's a false prophecy, made by a desperate drunk who was trying to gain a job, but it doesn't matter, it gave both big bads the focus they required, even if it was a lie..."

"Self fulfilling..." Harry muttered as he stared down at his hands, the little boy coming to the correct conclusion that his entire miserable existence was being manipulated by a pair of madmen who took the words of a drunk to heart.

"You get it," she said sadly, nodding once. "Anyway the prophecy boils down to one thing, either you kill Voldemort, or he kills you, so Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, the magical school you and I will be attending when we turn eleven by the way, Arranged for you to grow up here."

She gestured towards Surrey with a sneer gracing her lips, "In a muggle suburb hated, despised, and abused, so you will gladly give your life up for his cause. A premade martyr, a disposable soldier, a patsy."

A bush behind Harry caught fire as his rage slipped for a moment, this only made Dancia smile, "You're angry. Good. You should be, your Godfather and Godmother have both been trying to claim you for years but Dumbledore has blocked them every step of the way. Using Sirius's brief stint in Azkaban and Alice's exposure to the crucitous curse as excuses to keep you with the Dursleys."

Dancia leaned forward, nearly touching noses as she finished with, "If that old man was not so obsessed with making you his weapon, you could have grown up with your Godbrother Neville, a loving Godmother and Godfather, and, me."

Harry sat there silently, not moving, not speaking, but eventually, he met his cousin's sapphire gaze with his emerald green, and smiled.

"How can we muck up this Dumbledore's plans?"

Dancia could only smirk in return, "Oh Harry, let me count the ways..."

Every day I'm Slytherin.