Chapter 7- A Bit of the Past

AN: Sorry it took so long, I've been busy. Also, a shout out to Maddie24Kennedy for the cover art I'm sure you've noticed, and also pestering me into updating.

Felix out-

Harry trudged through the snow, glad when it started to thin out as they went. His toes were starting to freeze.

"Why don't we do that appa... Apparatus or whatever thing."

Draco chuckled. "Apparating. And I'm okay with it, but I don't do it often. I'm out of practice, and if I tried to side-along you, I'd probably get us splinched, and Slughorn over there hasn't been on the platform in a good twenty years, so he'd rather not try it. I'd rather walk than lose a limb, yeah?"

Harry looked terrified. "You can lose a limb? Than why do you do it?!"

Slughorn laughed at that.

Harry huffed, adjusting his scarf. He stopped for a moment, breathing in the fresh air. The orphanage had been dirty and musty most of the time, and he hadn't had much time to just stop outside and BREATHE. The crisp clean oxygen out here in the Scotland hills was beautiful.

"Harry, come on." Draco was glaring at him. Harry rolled his eyes and stomped on, the snow seeping into his clothes, chilling him to the bone.

"Tell me about him." Slughorn looked at him curiously.

"About who, m'boy?" He asked.

"Harry Potter. What was his life like? His family? I should know a little bit, right?" He looked down at his feet, a bit embarrassed.

Draco thought a moment. "Well, since his disappearance, a lot of people have given interviews about what his family was like. Apparently his father, James, was a huge prankster. He taught his son, too, along with his three friends, Sirius Black, his godfather, and Remus Lupin. The third was a man named Peter Pettigrew. Apparently he's in Azkaban, he'd been the one to tell Voldemort where his parents would be that night. "They amused Dumbledore to no end, I believe. He was always an odd man, loved sweets, even muggle ones. I heard he had an affinity for lemon drops."

The blond paused for breath. Slughorn took over then.

"His mother, Lily, was extraordinary. Bright witch, she was, perhaps the brightest I'd ever met. She was a muggleborn, which meant her parents weren't magical. She met lord Potter when they were teenagers. She didn't much care for him, and I don't blame her, he wasn't the best of people in his earlier years. Rather self centered, but he grew out of it. Lucky him, most men manage not to."

Slughorn chuckled, shooting a glance at Draco, who turned red. "Oi!" He chucked a handful of stone at the larger man.

Horace laughed deeply then, before sobering and continuing on. "He finally convinced her to date him, and the rest is easy enough to guess. Dumbledore chose James as an advisor. He had always trusted the Potters, and James happened to have a head for politics. When Harry was born, they doted on him. His godfather never married, and so he treated him like his own son. So did Remus, now that I think of it. I remember seeing him at parties and the like. He was a cheerful lad, his emerald eyes shining with laughter. He was very kind as well, almost to a fault. Treated the house elves like his equals. He was the only child in the castle most days, so the elves were his only friends for a while. Dumbledore saw how he refused to let societal norms rule him, and named him his heir. Lily didn't quite like the idea, but she came around."

The man looked thoughtful.

Draco chuckled. "He was an odd kid. I snuck into the castle on occasion. We never talked, but I saw him at gatherings and such."

Harry pondered this information. Harry Potter sounded a lot like him. In fact, they were eerily similar. Maybe he could pull this off after all? Maybe he didn't have to act.

"So, you said he was kind of like royalty. Did he have any training? Lessons on how to act in public? His father was a lord, right? That means he had money before he was chosen as an heir. Did they always live in the castle, or do they have a family house somewhere? Does he not have any other relatives?"

Slughorn looked saddened. "No, his grandparents died when Voldemort showed his true colours. Their house was attacked, half of it was destroyed. Your parents had already moved into the castle by then. Their chambers was behind a portrait of a particularly fat woman. In fact, I believe they called her the Fat Lady."

Harry snickered. He could almost picture the woman. "What did he think about it? Being the heir, I mean. Was he spoiled or anything?"

Draco shook his head. "Honestly, I think everyone knew but him. He never acted like he really new. Hated all of the events, looked uncomfortable, and he was always shy around people. I remember once, that horrid Skeeter woman cornered him and he turned bright red, about the shade of a Wealey's hair."

He and Slughorn chuckled fondly. Harry raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"A Weasley?" He'd never heard of a surname like that before.

"They were an important family, close to the Potters. Lots of kids, about seven last I counted, all ginger."

Harry smiled. Seven kids? A large family. He'd always wanted a large family, really. He'd dreamed that someone would adopt him, and they'd have a few other kids, maybe a dog (or a cat, he wasn't picky. He'd settle for a goldfish).

Draco suddenly gazed off at something in the distance, squinting. "I think... look, someone's coming!" Indeed, someone was. A team of men and women in scarlet robes were marching towards them. Draco waved his hands, and he and Slughorn sent up green sparks. The people hurried towards them, and within minutes they had met in the middle.

A tall, dark skinned man stepped forward. "My name is Kinsley Shacklebolt. Are you the only survivors?"

Slughorn stepped forward. "We were the only people in those carts, the conductor was dead, obviously the work of an Avada."

Harry spent the time looking at his feet, feeling the eyes of the people on him. A woman with wild magenta hair grinned at him when he saw his distressed expression, her nose suddenly turning into a duck bill. Harry gasped, stumbling backwards.

Kingsley noticed and rolled his eyes. "Nymphadora, if I turn around and you have anything less than perfectly normal features-"

The woman stepped up, magenta hair turning a deep fiery scarlet. "Don't CALL ME Nymphadora." A few of the other men snickered.

Kingsley chuckled fondly. "Alright Tonks, calm down. Let's get these men back to the station."

Draco cleared his throat. "Actually, we were heading to the leaky, would you mind..."

Tonks laughed. "Of course, Draco. Here, I'll take you." She looped am arm around the blond.

"Always were my favourite cousin, you were."

Harry started at that. Cousin? The dark skinned man, Kingsley, offered an arm to Harry.

"And what's your name, young man?" Harry blushed. "H-harry, sir." Kingsley smiled, obviously not finding anything odd in the name. A lot of boys had been named Harry after the lost heir, and Harry looked young for his age.

"Dawlish, grab Professor Slughorn, yeah?" That was Tonks.

Another man came forward, laying a hand on Horace's arm. "It isn't Professor anymore, Tonks, hasn't been for years."

Tonks laughed at that. "Force of habbit, sir. Now let's go!"

There were a few pops, and then Harry went through the most unpleasant sensation ever. He felt like he was being squeezed through a straw, and when he popped out of the other side he swayed, heaving a bit. He felt hands steadying him and collapsed into the person.

"Wotcher there. Harry." It was the woman, not-Nymphadora-I'm-Tonks. Harry let go of her, regaining his balance slowly. When he did he took in their surroundings. Nothing fancy, perhaps a bit dingy, and there were a few wizards sipping at cups of tea in booths scattered around. A hunched man came from the back, wiping his hands on a towel.

"Hey, Tom, we're just popping in to drop these men off and we'll be out of your hair. Don't worry, they aren't criminals, got caught in a nasty wreck." Kinsley tipped his hat to the barkeeper. Tom smiled at the men.

Draco stepped up to the counter, sliding a few coins over. "One room, please. And could we also have a few Sheppard's pies brought up, maybe a jug of pumpkin juice?"

He dug in his pocket again, bringing out another handful of golden coins. Tom nodded, putting the money behind the counter. He gave them a key and sent them off. The aurors bid them a good night as well, leaving with a pop. The trunks were lugged up the stairs, and Harry unlocked the door for the other two.

He stopped. "Wait, Hedwig! We left her beh-" There was a tap on the window, and Draco chuckled. Harry ran and threw the window open, letting in the snowy owl.

"But how-"

Slughorn stepped forward. "Wizarding owls are very intelligent. They are used for sending letters." Harry nodded, obviously surprised.

"Letters... wow." He stroked the white feathers, Hedwig letting out a sound that seemed to be the equivalent of a purr.

Draco was already sorting out the bed problem. He and Harry could probably comfortably fit on the bed, but what about Slughorn? Horace seemed to understand his problem and pulled an armchair from against the wall, taking off his jacket as well. He took out his wand and tapped it against his chair three times, mumbling something. The chair turned into a bed, and the cushion turned into a rather large pillow. His jacket was transformed as well, into a blanket.

"Well, that takes care of that." There was a knock at the door, and Harry rushed to open it. He took the plates from Tom carefully, Draco moving to help. They set the plates and such on the floor in the middle of the room after bidding Tom goodnight. A few candles were lit, and they tucked in to their food.

"So, why do you think lord Black is only starting to look now?" Harry asked. Draco swallowed a bite before answering. "Because he'd be legally an adult by now, at least in the wizarding world. We were only a few months apart, from what I remember. So he must be 17 by now. He's hoping that if he is alright, he's old enough to be seeing the papers and the notices and not relying on anyone else to help him that may not want to, such as a family that's taken him in and such."

Harry nodded. "Makes sense. If I took care of a child I raised as mine, no matter how good of a person I'd hate to hand them over at any point."

Horace Took a drink of his pumpkin juice. "So, what was your life like, Harry?" He asked.

Harry shrugged. "Alright, I guess. I mean..." he sighed. "It was horrid, for the most part. By the time I had gotten there, the rooms were already full, so I ended up sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs. It was pretty spacious, I guess, but once I got older it stopped being so. I went to school for a while, but when I was 11 I got pulled out. Supposedly I was a problem child. The only problem was that I was doing better than Dudley, the Matron's son, and he got me in trouble every chance he could for it. After that I spent lots of time in the library after all of my chores were done, teaching myself with the books there."

Draco gasped. "So you never had any magical education? I know I never saw you but... you were supposed to be contacted. You said that you had bursts of accidental magic, yeah? That means the ministry should have been notified that..."

Horace sat back thoughtfully. "Perhaps this Mrs. Dursley declined in your stead." Draco looked furious.

"She always did hate... what I could do. Thought it was unnatural. I got punished every time something happened, wether it was me or not. If dinner burned, it was my fault and I got no food for a day. If a board on the stairs broke, I was up to something and after I was done repairing it I was to stay in my cupboard for a week. When that happened, I was only allowed out for the loo once a day."

Draco stood abruptly. "That's... that's abuse! Those horrid, filthy muggles! Maybe my father wasn't so wrong after a-" "Draco!" Horace stod, setting a hand on his shoulder. He deflated instantly.

"Your father was a bitter, cold man with ridiculous ideas about the world. He was never right. What happened to young Harry was barbaric, and while it was far from an isolated incident, there are many more families out there that are loving, just as with the wizarding world. Now, perhaps we should call it a night, hmm? We need to be up bright and early to avoid the major crowds of Diagon Alley."

Harry stood and pulled off his scarf, coat, gloves, boots and socks. Draco smiled at Horace, mouthing a "thank you".

Harry slid into bed nervously, knowing he was sharing with Draco. Why was he so nervous? Draco changed into a pair of night clothes and slid in next to Harry, blowing out the candles as he went.

The room fell silent, and after an hour Harry found that he was the only one still awake. He thought over everything he had found out that day. Could he really be Harry Potter? Was he heading towards a family?

He fell to sleep that night with images of a happy family, and grand balls, and a tune he could almost remember.