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Chapter Two
It'd been a year since young Harry had first begun to control his magic or, 'freakishness', as he'd dubbed it. It was just a usual day for Harry; he'd been in the woods practicing his magic (he'd already learned how to make things float and turn small things into other things and was currently trying to figure out how to willingly teleport himself) and when he finally manages to teleport, he comes out nearly on top of a small green garden snake.
"Sorry, Little Guy," Harry mumbles getting out of the way, thinking that's the end of it
What he doesn't expect was for the snake to talk back.
"You speak!" it says in surprise.
Harry's eyes widen, "Y-you talk!"
"Of course I can talk," the small snake says, "Most legged creatures don't understand though."
"B-but why?" Harry asks, "Why can I understand you? I can't understand any other animals, so why do I understand you?"
The snake lets out a hiss that Harry somehow knows is the equivalent of a shrug for a snake, "Some can just understand us. I don't know why. I've heard stories of wizards who could do such things, but I've never met one myself."
"W-wizards?" Harry asks, "Is it-is it only wizards who can talk to snakes?"
The snake nods, "Only wizards and other snakes."
"So what I do, the things I can do that others can't, that makes me a wizard?!"
The snake nods again.
"So what about my parents then? Were they like me?" Harry asks, milking the snake for every drop of knowledge he can get.
"I'm not sure," the snake says, "I think there can be wizard born to regular humans, but I don't know how often that happens. It could be the norm, or it could be extremely rare, for all I know; I don't mess with humans, magical or not, as a rule. Most people seem to want to run from, or kill my kind."
"I think you're interesting," Harry interjects.
The snake laughs, "I think you're interesting too. A speaker. Never thought I'd meet one of those. Would you mind us getting together again in the future? Do you come to this place often?"
Harry nods, smiling, "I come here every day and practice the stuff I can do."
"Magic?" the snake asks.
"Er. . .I suppose," Harry says, "I mean, yeah."
"Then I shall see you here tomorrow. . . . ?" the snake trials off.
"Yes," Harry says, "Hey! Before I forget, what's your name?"
The snake groans, "My mother was cruel. My name is Slyther."
"What's wrong with Slyther?" Harry asks, eyebrows pinching together.
"It's so very generic."
"Sort of like naming your kid John Smith?" Harry asks.
"What?" the snake asks, "John Smith? That's an odd name."
Harry shrugs, "It's just a generic human name."
"Well it's better than Slyther," the snake mumbles.
Harry smiles, "Well than John can be your nickname."
John/Slyther laughs at that, "That's fine by me. And what is your name odd-human-boy?"
"Harry Potter," Harry says.
"Really?" John asks, "That sounds really familiar."
"Well I have a pretty generic name as well. You could've easily heard about a different Harry Potter."
"Well it was nice talking to you," the snake, newly christened John, says, "But I have to go find my lunch now."
"Bye, John," Harry calls, "See you tomorrow."
"Goodbye Harry," the snake calls, "See you later."
As the snake leaves, Harry smiles to himself. A third friend.
Life goes on and years pass by. Harry turns nine, and then ten. One of Harry's friends, Payton, gets adopted, but Cal stays his close companion. John, the garden snake, also becomes a close friend of Harry's. Harry is truly happy at the orphanage. Harry's magic progresses, he begins to see his magic as he shapes it, which helps him out as he gets moves on to more powerful magic. Eventually he makes some headway into self-transfiguration (he managed to change his hair green and his eyes black and then switch them back to normal again) as his eleventh birthday approaches.
In fact, Harry was walking back to the orphanage after a self-transfiguration exercise (trying to make himself taller and less stick-like which, sadly, failed) when Cal comes running to meet him, "Harry! I was told to fetch you. There's a weird old man with a long beard come to see you. Something about a school they want you to go to."
Harry follows, puzzled, as Cal leads him back up to the orphanage and into Beatrice's, the nice old woman Harry had first met when he'd come to the orphanage, office.
Indeed, a man with a crooked nose and a long white beard is inside waiting for him, "Hello, Harry," the man says.
"Hello, Sir," Harry responds automatically. Looking around Beatrice's office, Harry notices that he and the man are the only ones in the room. He looks closer at the man himself. He can see magic swirling brightly around the man in bright shades of gold and yellow. Harry's own magic is the same emerald green as his own eyes.
He'd assumed that a person's magic was always the color of their eyes; windows to the soul or some such, but as the man's eyes are a twinkling blue instead of gold or yellow, that proves that theory of Harry's wrong.
"I'm here, Harry, to talk to you about the school that your parents went to. From the minute you were born, your name was on our lists. You don't need to worry about the cost of anything; your parents left you a small fortune for you to get by on until you're of age."
"Is it a school for people like us, Sir?" Harry asks.
"People like us?" The man asks, raising a single brow.
Harry nods, "Wizards, Sir."
The man looks at the boy in surprise, "How did you know I was a wizard?"
"Your aura, Sir," Harry says, "Well maybe that's not what it's called, I don't know. The magic around your body."
"You can see magic?" He asks, his eyebrows receding into his hair-line.
"Of course," Harry says, "Can't you?"
"With a certain spell," the man says, "certainly. But for one so young. . .and wandless at that. I don't think- not even Tom. . ."
"Sir, you're not making sense," Harry tells him.
"I suppose not," he says, "Just know that that's a great feat for one as young as you."
"You said 'wandless' does that-does that mean that there are really magic wands?! Will I be able to get one? Will it strengthen what I can do?"
"Yes, yes," he says with a wave of his hand, "And then at my school, Hogwarts, you'll be taught how to use it. But first tell me what all you can do."
"Um. . ." Harry begins, "Well the first few things I ever did were on accident. I turned my teacher's hair blue and I teleported. The things I can do on purpose though. . ." he pauses, "I can do lots of stuff. I can change things into other things, I can move things, I can teleport things, I can clean things, I can teleport myself, I'm in the middle of learning to change my own appearance. . .Erm. . .I can talk to snakes. . .um. . . and I think that's about it. . .I can see magic, but I already told you that."
"You can do nearly as many things wandless as most first years can with wands," the man murmurs, almost to himself, "And you talk with snakes."
"Where will I get a wand?" Harry asks, "And what is your name?"
The old man looks down at him, "It seems I've been very rude. My name is Albus Dumbledore and I'm the headmaster at Hogwarts. And I can take you shopping for things tonight if you wish. I have your school list for you."
"That'd be great," Harry says, "When can we go?"
"Now if you'd like," Dumbledore says.
Harry smiles and nods, "I'd like that."
"Then grab my arm," he instructs. Harry does as he's told and suddenly, after a jerk to his navel, he finds himself standing in an alleyway, people hustling by as if two people appearing out of nowhere was nothing, "Welcome to Diagon Alley," Dumbledore says.
Harry looks around in wonder. As people in strange robes move all around him, "Here," the professor says, taking out his wand and giving it a swish, he and Harry are suddenly in the same strange robes that all the others are wearing, "This will make you stand out less."
Albus leads Harry to the bank and goes with Harry to his vault to withdraw his money, getting a strange package out of vault 713 after Harry's done.
After the business at the bank is done, Harry splits up with Dumbledore, promising to meet him at the ice-cream shop on the corner whenever he gets everything on his school list.
He makes his first stop at the bookstore. After getting all the required books, Harry grabs a couple extra for some light reading before term starts, The Arte of Potions, Household Potions: Simple Ingredients Amazing Results, Animagus Transformations, Hogwarts: A History, Modern Defense, Transfiguration Miracles: Say Goodbye to Pimples, Scars, and Unsightly Birthmarks, A Thousand and One Hexes and Jinxes, and finally Legilimency: The Lost Arte of the Mynd.
After watching the witch carefully as she places a shrinking charm on the books (he wanted to learn to do that on his own!) he walks out of the bookshop and over to the clothing store across the street.
Inside he sees a blond-haired boy about his age being fitted for black robes.
"Hogwarts, Dear?" The woman at the counter asks.
Harry nods.
"All right, I'll get you started up then."
She puts Harry on a stand next to the blond boy and throws a robe over his head. She begins sticking in pins here and flourishing her wand there. Harry finds it quite fascinating until the blond boy takes him out of his thoughts.
"You're a Hogwarts too?" he asks.
Harry nods, "Yeah."
"What house are you hoping for?" The boy asks, "I already know where I'm going to be. My whole family has gotten into Slytherin. Of course, Ravenclaw wouldn't be so bad, but I'd just die if I ended up in Hufflepuff, you know?"
"There are houses?" Harry asks, "What's the difference between them?"
The blond boys gives him a strange look, "You don't- Are you a mud-blood?"
"What's that mean?" Harry asks.
"It's someone who's born to people who aren't witches or wizards," the boy says looking put off, as if he is somehow disappointed.
"Oh," Harry says, "Well I don't know. My parents died when I was a baby. Although Dumbledore did say that they went to school at Hogwarts when they were kids, so I don't suppose I could be, erm, a mud-blood," the unfamiliar word feels funny on his tongue.
"So you're a pureblood who doesn't know anything about the magical world?" the boy asks.
"I don't know," Harry says, "I guess. I assume a pureblood is someone who isn't a mud-blood?"
"Yeah," the boy says, "There are purebloods and half-bloods and mud-bloods."
"Hmmm," Harry says, "I don't know anything about that. I just know that at least one of my parents went to Hogwarts. I think Dumbledore said both of them did, but I don't know for sure."
"Well a half-blood isn't that bad," the boy allows, "I'm a pureblood. A Malfoy. Draco Malfoy," he extends his hand.
"Harry Potter," Harry says, taking his hand.
The witch fitting Harry's robe stiffens and Draco's eyes widen, "Are you really?"
"Yeah. I'm really Harry Potter," Harry says, puzzled by the reaction.
"Well . . . I suppose now we know you're defiantly a half-blood," Draco mutters off hand, seemingly dazed. Then, seeing Harry's puzzlement looks astonished, "Don't you know?"
"Know what?" Harry asks.
"Tell me everything you know about the Wizarding World," Draco says.
"Erm, well, that the people in it do magic like me, only most people have wands and that Hogwarts is a school for magic and Mr. Dumbledore is a teacher there. And that some people can talk to snakes."
"Professor Dumbledore," Draco corrects, "He's called a professor. And no one can talk to snakes anymore, really. Just the Dark Lord."
Harry notices that the sewing women again stiffen at this mention of a 'Dark Lord'.
"That's not true," Harry says, "I can talk to snakes, so you're wrong in saying no one can."
"You can talk to snakes!?" Draco asks.
Harry nods, and Draco shakes his head as if to clear it, "I'll have to ask you about that later, for now I want to get back on topic. Don't you know anything about your own history? Speaking of which, do you really have a lightning bolt scar on your forehead?"
Harry lifts his bangs to show Draco the scar, "How'd you know that?"
"'Cuz," Draco says, "You're famous. When you were a baby you killed the Dark Lord when he killed your parents."
"Th-this 'Dark Lord' person killed my parents!?"
"Yeah," Draco says, "How'd you think they died?"
"I was told they were killed in a car crash."
"Oh," Draco says looking down.
Taking a deep breath, Harry asks a happier question, "So, about the houses at school. . .you never did tell me the differences between them."
"Well," Draco begins, obviously grateful for the lighter topic, "Hufflepuff is the worst. It's for rejects that can't make it into other houses. Gryffindor is for the brave or some rubbish like that. Ravenclaw are for the smart. Slytherin are for the cunning and the ambitious. Slytherin's symbol is a snake because the Slytherin's founder, Salazar Slytherin, could speak to snakes. Since you can too, you'll end up in Slytherin for sure."
"Well if that isn't biased, I don't know what is," Harry says, "What have you got against bravery?"
"Bravery is for fools. It gets you killed," Draco says.
Harry shakes his head ignoring him, "Out of what you said I think Gryffindor or Slytherin would be my best bet."
"But the two are polar opposites!" Draco says, "How can you be both?!"
"Well," Harry says, "Like you said, being brave can be a foolish thing and can get you killed, to survive as someone brave, that person must also be cunning. And for someone to be cunning but not brave would be pointless. If you aren't brave enough to take risks, your cunning gets you nowhere."
Draco looks at him with a strange mixture of awe and irritation, "I've never heard anyone put it like that before."
"And this conversation makes me want to bring up the whole topic of mud-blood vs. pureblood thing-"
"Mr. Potter, sir," the woman fitting his robes says, "That word mud-blood, it's-it's a bad, bad, insulting word. The proper term is muggle-born."
"Muggle-born?" Harry repeats.
She nods before shooting a glare at Draco, "My father's muggle-born."
"I'm so sorry, Miss," Harry says, "I did not know that. So, erm, right. The whole muggle-born vs. pureblood thing, what's the point in it? What does blood have to do with anything? How are purebloods any better than half-bloods or muggle-borns?"
Draco makes a face, "They just-they aren't as good."
"As good at what?" Harry asks.
Draco shrugs, "Magic."
"So if I, a half-blood, am better than you at magic, does that prove that you're wrong?"
"We haven't learned any magic yet," Draco points out.
"So?" Harry says, letting his hair change colors randomly. Red, blue, green, purple, yellow, orange, before finally settling back on its usual jet-black.
Draco's eyes widen again, "H-how'd you do that?"
"Practice," Harry says, "I've been teaching myself magic since I was seven."
"You're strange, Harry," Draco says with a shake of his head, "A super half-blood Gryffindor-Slytherin parceltounge."
"A good strange?" Harry asks.
Draco nods, "Definitely."
Harry smiles.
"Hey, after we're done here, do you want to hang out with me for a while?" Draco asks.
Harry nods, "But I need to stop by the apothecary and I need to get a wand."
"Okay," Draco says, "But after that I want to stop be the pet shop; I was thinking about getting an owl. . ."
"Okay," Harry agrees.
The apothecary turns out to be boring. There's nothing interesting inside and the fumes. They're just strong enough to make you terribly nauseous, but not enough to make you pass out.
After making a quick escape from the nauseous gas, the boys run to Olivander's.
After an annoying amount of time, Harry finally finds a wand (Draco finds it very interesting that Harry's wand is the brother wand to the Dark Lord's) that works for him. The moment he touches it, it sends off a shower of green and red sparks, reminding Harry of Christmas.
The pet shop is more entertaining. Animals of all shapes and sizes are on the inside of the store. Harry finds a companion for John, a snake named Poison an even brighter green than John. She, like most of the other pets in the store, is magical. Harry is told that she can become as small or as large as she wants (within reason) and that she's guaranteed to outlive Harry by at least a hundred years. While Harry was busy finding Poison, Draco was finding the perfect owl.
The boys buy their new pets and head over to the ice-cream parlor. Each ordering a large ice-cream (Harry's a strawberry-peanut butter and Draco's a mint-cherry) while they wait for Dumbledore to take Harry back to the orphanage.
Eventually Professor Dumbledore comes back, very surprised that Harry's hanging out with Draco Malfoy, and tells him it's time to leave.
"Bye then," Harry says with a half-hearted wave.
"Bye," Draco says, "See you on the train?"
Harry nods with a smile. Despite Draco's flaws (bias-edness, annoying-ness, and thinking he's better than others) he's really glad he met Draco.
Friend number Four.
Okay, found some minor mistakes, but I think they're fixed now. So, next up, Hogwarts Express.