Disclaimer: It is with a heavy heart that I admit, although it might be hard to believe, that I own nothing related to Harry Potter or Chrestomanci. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling and Diana Wynne Jones.

Chapter 3, Meeting Blondes

(5,500 words)

Muggle television princess castles were nothing to this. Nothing. He didn't know why they even tried.

Around the carriage was the biggest, most beautiful garden he'd ever seen. Filled with flowers in colours that were rarely seen in the Dursley household, he was taken aback by the magnificence. He could only dream of running around here, admiring every plant. He could bet most of them were magical. He'd never seen a magical plant before!

And the castle… how could he even begin to describe it?

"Woah", he breathed, awed. He had to tilt his head back to see the tops of the highest towers.

"I know", said Bellatrix, making him jump and look at her. She was holding her head straight forward, taking in the castle as well.

"Chrestomanci really lives in there?" he asked.

She scoffed. "No, it's called Chrestomanci Castle because Chrestomanci doesn't live in it. Of course he does, nutshell."

"Oh. Right, sorry."

The carriage rolled on the fancy grey single, the small stones making crushing sounds when the wheels went over them. He didn't take his eyes of the great white castle in front of him; it was like he was enchanted. The towers rose high up in the sky and hundreds of windows gleamed in the fading sunlight. It was so beautiful.

Bellatrix pulled up close to the main entrance - a high port made of dark wood and handles wrought in iron - and stopped the horses with a sharp pull on the reins.

The door to the carriage opened and Dudley stepped out, looking imperious with both hands on his broad hips and gazing up at the castle.

"It'll do", said the big blonde and started making his way up the front steps.

Bellatrix gave him a shove on the shoulder.

"What are you waiting for, squib? You know, they won't roll out the red carpet just because you sit here all day. Go follow the fat guy." And with that she forcefully pushed him off the bench. He let out a very manly shriek as he tumble to the ground for the third time that day and glared after the carriage as Bellatrix hurriedly steered it away. Her insane cackle almost didn't reach his ears.

Standing and brushing off the stone dust from his second hand trousers, he grumbled quietly to himself about evil coachwomen and their equally evil, although pretty, carriages.

It was the sound of wood creaking faintly that brought his head up from his dirtied clothes. He looked to the entrance just in time to see Dudley standing still on the middle step and the two enormous doors swing open outwards by themselves, revealing a man behind them.

His hair was long, reaching the shoulder blades, and had the palest shade of blond possible. Expensive looking robes in royal blue flowed around the man's legs, but the front was open to show a silver waistcoat and well-fitting black slacks. In his hand he gripped a dark cane with a shiny silver handle.

The man held his back straight and stood tall before them, power seeming to flow off him in waves. This was what the word elegance had been made for.

"I see you have arrived, albeit a bit later than what was expected", said the man. His voice was deep; the words rolled off his tongue like they were in another language although he knew it was English. The man tilted his head slightly to the side and gave them a chilly smile. "Would you not like to come in?"

Dudley started at the question and shook his head visibly, as if getting rid of a bug on his nose. His cousin resumed to climbing the stairs and he made sure to follow closely behind. They came to a halt at the top step.

Up close, the man was just as aristocratic in his features as he'd pictured him. With pale blue eyes, thin lips, sharp gaze, and flawless skin, he was the most beautiful man he's laid his eyes upon. When the man then looked at him, for just a second, he felt the air escape his lungs.

Dudley bowed as low as his big belly would allow him.

"Lord Malfoy", he said and straightened with a look in his face that said he thought it was the other man's turn to bow now.

Lord Malfoy only arched a perfectly sculpted brow and let his eyes sweep over Dudley's grey track pants and sweat stained red shirt, and somehow managed to express distaste without moving a muscle.

"Mr Dursley", he drawled. "I trust your journey was satisfactory?"

"It was acceptable", sniffed Dudley, clearly miffed that the man hadn't treated him with enough respect. "The seat was not very soft and I became bored quickly, but the view was nice most of the time."

"I'm sure it was", replied Lord Malfoy with a polite smile and gestured for them to step into the hallway. "Come now, your rooms are waiting. You must be tired after your trip."

Dudley nodded. "It has been a rather exhausting day."

The door closed on their own accord as they entered the castle, and he was once again blown away by its magnificent. The hallway was the size of a chapel all by itself with impossibly high ceiling and enough space to hold a sizeable ball. The floor was black and white like a chessboard and above their heads hung an enormous golden chandelier. On the other side of the hall was a grand staircase which split in two in the middle and led up to the second floor.

He wondered how one did to get further up in the castle. There must've been many more floors that just the two he could see from in here, because the towers had been very high. Maybe it was magic? He almost sighed. If he had to use the floo network to get higher up, then so be it. He'd betray his newly made promise of never getting near a fireplace again if it meant he got another glimpse of the castle.

Then it hit him. He couldn't stay here, could he? If it hadn't been for the mistake back in Bravenbeck, then he wouldn't even have been in Chrestomanci Castle in the first place. It was supposed to be Mr Potter - the tall man with the boring face - that came here with Dudley as his close relative.

He had to tell Lord Malfoy. His heart fell quite a long way when he realized that he wouldn't get to see Chrestomanci now, but it wasn't the way it should be. He didn't belong here.

Dudley had already marched off towards the grand staircase when he stopped pondering and came back to the now. Lord Malfoy was still standing by him with cane in hand. The man must've given Dudley the instructions of how to get to his room while he wasn't listening.

Well, he guessed it didn't matter, anyway.

"I bid you a good night then", said Lord Malfoy with a nod and turned to leave.

"Wait! Lord Malfoy!" He rushed to lay a hand on the blonde's shoulder, making the man halt midstep and turn around.

"Yes?" he asked expectantly and gave the hand on his shoulder a meaning look.

He quickly withdrew it and turned his eyes to the marble floor, ashamed. Lord Malfoy was disgusted by being touched by a squib. To this man, he must be worse than Dudley.

All the more reason to make them send him back so he could be put in the orphanage, he thought sadly.

"I'm sorry to hold you, sir, but there has been a big mistake", he rushed, almost stumbling over several words. Great, now he sounded stupid as well.

"A mistake? Is something wrong?" Lord Malfoy sounded a little surprised, but he couldn't know for sure since he still had his gaze fixed on the floor.

He nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid I've been confused with Mr Potter. He was meant to come here with Dudley, but must've gotten himself confused because he left again with Mr Cutcliffe back in Bravenbeck and Dudley dragged me onto the carriage before I could do anything. I think… I think maybe we have to go back and get him. I'm sorry; it's my fault."

There was a highly uncomfortable silence that felt gigantic in the large hall. He stared stubbornly at Lord Malfoy's well-polished shoes and waited for the man to scold him and hit him with his cane.

His eyes flickered to the stick in question and had to fight to repress a shudder. He could almost hear the sound of it hitting the scarred flesh of his back with sharp cracks.

Lord Malfoy kept standing there, silent, as if he was waiting for something as well. Hesitantly, he peered up at the aristocrat through his lashes to find the Lord studying him calculatingly.

"Sir?" His voice sounded small in the great space around them.

"Young man, would you mind telling me your name?" It was more a demand than a request, but the Lord made it sound like a question even though it was not.

What kind of a question was that? He knew that didn't have anything with the situation at hand to do. But Lord Malfoy seemed very serious, so he told himself it was best to do as the man said.

"My name is... I mean, sir, I am…" he trailed off and frowned. Why did he ask such a hard question? Oh, well. "I'm me, my Lord, but you can call me 'boy' if you like."

He didn't get an answer except for another raised eyebrow. Really, he wondered how Lord Malfoy managed that. He thought he'd like to learn; it looked impressive.

Lord Malfoy's cane-free hand came into view as the man raised it and snapped his fingers. Immediately, a pop echoed between the walls - not too unlike the crack of apparition - and a small creature appeared next to them.

"Lord Malfoy, how may Valence serve you?" it asked and bowed so low it looked as if it would fall on its head. The creature had long ears, like a rabbit, but it had no hair on its body and its skin was leathery and wrinkled. The white button up shirt and trousers hung loose around the thin arms and legs like adult sized clothes on a child. As if that didn't look absurd enough, there was a monocle in front of one of the eyes with a chain in gold attached to a shining button on the shirt's collar. Because of this, the two big eyes looked different in size as the glass in front of one magnified it significantly.

The only thing missing was a bowtie and Bellatrix's cylinder hat and the creature - Valence, was it? - would be the perfect picture of fancy.

"Fetch me the files of Harry Potter", said Lord Malfoy without bothering to look at the little thing and waved it away. Valence popped out of sight and he was once again alone with Lord Malfoy. It had been a bit better when the creature had been there and he wasn't the smallest one in the hall. Now, he felt tiny.

But he did feel terribly curious about Valence and before he realized he'd opened his mouth he had asked the question, "What was that?"

"A house elf, naturally." Yes, of course. Naturally. Lord Malfoy continued, "The elves in Chrestomanci Castle are better taught than those you will find in a normal wizarding household. We tend to have higher standards than the norm."

At the end of his short speech, Valence the House Elf popped back, holding a small bunch of papers in his spidery hands. It handed them to Lord Malfoy and bowed once more.

"That will be all", said the Lord and Valence disappeared, still bowing. While the man started flipping through the pages, he asked casually, "Tell me, what age would you say Mr Potter was?"

"In his mid-thirties, perhaps?" he said tentatively. It was hard for someone who had seen so few faces in his life to confidently say what age a person was by just looking at them.

Lord Malfoy hummed. "How curious", he said. "It says right here that Harry James potter, nephew to Petunia Dursley, was born on July 31, 1980, which should mean that today, Mr Potter is sixteen years old. Does this ring a bell?"

He stared at the man, wide eyed, yet still couldn't believe Lord Malfoy was standing there and telling him this.

"You mean… I'm Mr Potter?" he breathed, amazed.

"Indeed you are, unless you're using Polyjuice Potion. I, however, do believe you are the real Harry Potter." Lord Malfoy picked out one of the pages and held it up to he could see.

It was a picture of him - a magical one that moved - with his pale skin and round glasses and dark mop of unruly hair. The picture was in black and white; otherwise he would've been able to see his green eyes as well. The boy on the picture looked the exact age as the real him.

"Who took this?" he asked, speaking about the photograph. He couldn't for the life of him remember ever having his photo taken, much less so recently. Were there wizards or witches who crawled around and hid in bushes that took these pictures? Did all magical people have files with photos of themselves?

"An employee from the Ministry, most likely. Every born child of a magic family or with a magical core has their picture taken shortly after their birth. The picture updates itself as time goes by thanks to somewhat advanced spells", explained Lord Malfoy patiently and let him, Harry Potter, take the single sheet and study himself fascinatedly.

He stood there for a very long time, it felt like, and just tried to process the new information. Under the picture were three lonely words - Harry James Potter - though he felt they said infinitely more than a single name. They were him. He was this person; he had an identity and a name.

And that name was Harry.

His throat felt tight and his voice was a bit choked when he met Lord Malfoy's eyes straight on and said, "Thank you, sir."

Lord Malfoy gave a small nod. "It was nothing. Do not feel hesitant to come visit me in my office if you have further questions, Mr Po-"

"No, please call me Harry", he cut him off. He saw how the Lord's shoulders tensed at being interrupted, and Harry quickly explained, "I like Harry better."

The man relaxed again. Harry thought he might've seen a smile glint in those eyes, though Lord Malfoy's mouth didn't even twitch.

"Very well, Harry. If you wish, you may call me Lucius", he said mannerly and kindly ignored Harry's hitched breath. "And do keep the picture. You seem to have more use of it than it will have in my desk drawer."

Harry just nodded. He didn't know if he trusted his voice at the moment.

Lucius snapped his fingers and gave the rest of the papers to the house elf that appeared. The little creature popped away quickly and Lucius held out his hand towards the grand staircase in a graceful gesture.

"Would you like me to show the way to your room?" he asked smoothly. "Hogwarts students like Mr Dursley learn to follow directions in big castles after a while, but for someone inexperienced the halls may easily become a labyrinth."

Harry smiled at him - the first real smile he had given someone else for a long while - and nodded. "Thank you, I probably need some help."

And the two of them, one scrawny teenager dressed in rags and one elegant man in the finest of robes, walked off through the halls of Chrestomanci Castle.

~/Nine\\~

In the end, when it became apparent that Harry would never find his way on his own, Lucius pulled out his wand and conjured a map over every floor of the castle. Harry watched with wide eyes as the blonde man explained how he could simply say the number of the floor he was on and the map would adapt to show him every room on that level. Harry had wanted to jump the wizard and hug him tightly, but refrained himself when he thought that Lucius probably wouldn't appreciate a squib soiling his nice robes.

It hadn't taken as long as he'd anticipated for them to reach the door leading to his 'permanent bedroom', as Lucius had assured him it was. Harry had felt a wave of intense happiness, because he had never had a bedroom before, let alone a permanent one. And this was in a castle!

Lucius left him outside his room with the one request that Harry got to bed soon. The sun had set completely and breakfast would be served at half past seven the next morning in the dining room on the first floor. Harry wondered how many dining rooms there were in the whole castle if Lucius had to say what floor it was on. He decided to check on his map when he got the time.

"Good night, sir Lucius", called Harry after the retreating back and got a raised hand in response, though Lucius didn't turn around nor slowed his steps. Soon, he rounded a corner and was gone.

Harry, with his folded map and picture in one hand, excitedly turned to the bedroom door. He couldn't wait any longer and reached for the silver handle. With a push, the door swung open and he took his first step into his new room.

Harry found no other words to describe it than bloody fantastic, which was the exact thing he breathed when he looked around. His vision filled with shades of dark rich brown and spots of navy blue and indigo. On the opposite wall from the door stood a four poster queen-sized bed covered in a blue bedspread but with a brown, almost black, body and navy canopy and curtains.

Next to the magnificent bed, on the left side of the room, was a small nightstand and on the other side was another door.

The right wall was the only side with windows. They were high, stretching from the height of his knees and almost reaching the ceiling. He imagined they let through lots of light in the daytime. Harry could barely wait to see the view tomorrow.

Between the two windows stood a sizeable wardrobe in dark wood and ornaments carved into it. He saw the lion feet it had and felt delighted.

The left side of the room showed a single empty bookshelf and the by the wall of the entrance door was a desk accompanied by a cushioned chair.

All the walls were painted in a deep midnight blue, framed by brown baseboards and cornices.

Harry closed the door behind him after having stood there for Merlin knew how long and ran to the other door in the room to see what was behind it. It was a bathroom, decorated and painted in the same colours as the main bedroom. He ran a hand over the edge of the large tub. He felt like a king.

Leaving the bathroom to make himself prepared for bed, he was met by the sight of the empty bookshelf and suddenly remembered his history book; the one that had started all this and that he'd hidden under his shirt. Excitedly, he put away his map and picture and felt with his hands across his chest and stomach so that he could pull it out and put it on a shelf.

The smile that had adorned his face fell when all he felt was his own torso. Frantic, he pulled off his long-sleeved T-shirt and watched it sail to the floor, but heard no thud of his book hitting the wooden boards.

Harry stared at his shirt, eyes unfocused and breath ragged. His book… his book, that had saved him; it wasn't there.

A sob shook his body as he fell to his knees, surrounded by moonlight. Another one escaped him, and he pressed both hands against his mouth to stop them, but he couldn't control it. For the first time in years, Harry cried.

For somewhere along the way, he had lost his precious book.

~/Nine\\~

Harry came to the next morning with the odd observation that his cupboard was very bright. He could've forgotten to turn off the light the night before, but he was always careful to do so since he didn't sleep well unless it was completely dark.

The next thing he noticed was that his mattress was unusually soft and his sheets were thicker than he remembered them to be.

And the third thing he became aware of was that he wasn't in his cupboard, but in a bed, and at once the memories came rushing back to him. Harry smiled lazily at the canopy above his head and stretched out under the warm covers, pressing the side of his face down in the pillow. It was so soft!

With a big yawn and one last moment of enjoying the wonderful bed, Harry pushed the duvet away and climbed out of bed. He purposely kept his eyes from straying to the bookshelf as he went into the bathroom to do his morning business and wash up. It wasn't until his was done doing this that he noticed the lack of toothpaste tubes and toothbrushes.

Looking through the cupboards, he found nothing he dared put in his mouth with the exception of a vial filled with what he thought was a potion to reduce headaches. He only recognized it because Aunt Petunia had given it to Uncle Vernon when the man had worked long days.

Sighing and admitting defeat, Harry rose from his crouching position under the sink and closed the cabinet. He put on his old shirt again and felt dirty since it wasn't washed, but knew he had nothing else to wear.

Harry stopped for a moment after dressing and took a few steps closer to the window. The sun was just above the horizon and it had to be early in the morning, but there was just enough light for him to admire the view.

The grounds outside Chrestomanci Castle were relatively flat, but to watch them was like watching a painting. Flat, yes, but only on the surface.

Harry stepped up on the low windowsill - he was only half the height of the entire window - and leaned against the side. The walls were surprisingly thick, so the windowsills were deep enough that he could sleep in them if he wished to.

Below him was the same garden he was seen yesterday from the carriage, but from up here he saw the big lake and the water that reflected the rising sun and he saw the forest that surrounded it all, and the cottage beyond the water and the strange round lawn on which there stood poles with rings at the top.

Harry left the window soon after and grabbed the map on his desk before leaving his room to start the search for the dining room on the first floor.

He imagined it could take a while to even find the right flight of stairs to get down in the first place. However, much to his own surprise, Harry found the grand staircase rather quickly and was soon on his way to the back of the castle. If he could have risked taking his eyes off the map, he would've admired the decorum and moving pictures on the walls, but didn't dare take the chance of getting lost.

It was only minutes later that he arrived in the dining room to the smell of food. Stepping over the threshold he was met by the sight of a long table filled with everything from scrambled eggs to Italian bruschettas. Two people sat on one end and another sat alone by the middle. Harry knew it was Dudley by the red shirt and many chins, but he didn't know the two young men sitting at the end.

Not really feeling like keeping his gobbling cousin company, Harry walked over to the other occupants of the table. He did so slowly, so they would have time to notice him and could tell him to leave if they didn't want him there.

He pulled out the chair opposite to the two boys and sat down.

One of them, the blonde with back slicked hair who looked a lot like Lucius, glanced up at him. He and the other boy, who had tanned skin and stylish chocolate brown hair and dark blue eyes, had their heads close together and were whispering energetically until he sat down.

Both of them looked at him for a moment as if he was an alien from outer space before they masked their features and straightened in their representative chairs. Harry sat quietly and politely waited for one of them to open the conversation. He had learned at the Dursleys that it was rude of squibs to speak before the wizard.

In the end, it was the Lucius replica that spoke, "Good morning."

Harry thought it sounded a bit chilly. Instead of answering in the same grumpy mood, he smiled and greeted, "Good morning."

He noted that both the boys had their plates full and cheerfully started picking out things to put on his own, but was careful to not take too much so he didn't seem greedy.

The boys watched him in silence as he finished up and started spreading butter over a piece of toast. He did his best not to feel tense under their suspicious eyes. Who knows, maybe they were trained to analyse a person before getting comfortable with them. He only hoped they wouldn't take too long.

Or maybe it was because he was a squib?

Harry stilled in his movements for a second, but continued quickly after as if nothing had happened. Of course they had every right to be uncomfortable in his company. He was, after all, nothing more than a squib.

"Are you Dursley's cousin?" asked the blonde suddenly, making Harry start and meet the boy's eyes. They were pale blue, just like Lucius'.

"Yes."

"Why don't you go sit over there with the wonderboy, then?" he sneered and jerked his head in Dudley's direction. Harry looked over at his cousin, who was in the middle of stuffing his mouth with bacon.

Harry wrinkled his nose. "No, thank you. But I'll over to the other end of the table if you don't want me here", he offered and made to stand.

The boy held up a hand, effectively halting him, and said, "There's no need. We were under the impression that you and Dursley were close. It appears we were wrong."

Harry nodded, understanding, and sat back down again. "It's okay. The only thing Dudley and I have in common is our blood; there's really nothing else."

"I see", said the boy and the silence returned, although it was much less tense this time around. The dark haired boy still hadn't spoken, but Harry guessed he was just a quiet person. Harry was also pretty quiet; in spite of the fact that Uncle Vernon had said many times that he spoke too often for a squib. He was determined not to think about Vernon Dursley anymore, though.

It hit him then that he knew the name of the blonde boy. All those times of watching the Dursleys eat and listening to their ranting had done him something good after all.

"You're Draco Malfoy", he said, out of the blue, in a tone that was just the slightest bit surprised.

Draco looked up at him as if he had just insulted him greatly.

"No", said Draco and sat back in his chair and raised his chin the slightest bit. "I am Draco Lucius Malfoy, son of Lord Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and future heir of the Most Noble and Ancient Houses of Malfoy and Black."*

"Oh…", said Harry, feeling a bit windblown. Deciding to be as sophisticated as possible, he shot back his chair, stood up and extended his right hand over the table. "I'm Harry."

It did not sound impressive at all next to Draco's introduction, but a good deal of pride seeped into his voice when he was able to give out his name.

The blonde teenager studied the hand in front of him sceptically and unmoving. The dark haired boy was doing the same.

Harry was sure Draco wouldn't accept his hand and was about to withdraw it when he felt dry skin against his palm. Draco took hold of his hand and gave it a steady shake, like Bellatrix had done, and let it go.

"It's good to meet you, Harry", he said. Harry smiled at him and turned to the quiet boy.

"I'd be delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr…?" Harry felt extremely pompous and fancy once the words had left his mouth. Not that anyone could blame him; he'd never been in a situation like this before.

Slowly, the boy shook hands with him, as if he was unsure what to make of the newcomer. Harry noted that his skin was rather cool.

"Zabini. Blaise Zabini", came a deep and baritone voice that startled Harry a little. It sounded very mature for someone so young, but it was nice as well.

He gave Blaise a smile too and sat back down.

"So", drawled Draco, much like his father. "What, besides Dursley, brings you to these finer parts of the breakfast table?"

Harry chose to be honest, "I've never met anyone my own age before except Dudley, so I was a bit curious. I thought maybe we could build up a companionship."

He got two arched eyebrows in response; one from each boy.

"A companionship based on what?" asked Draco.

"I don't know if we have a lot in common yet", said Harry hesitantly. "But Dudley isn't terribly fond of you, no offense, and he doesn't like me at all since I'm a squib. So that's one thing in common, at least."

"You're a squib?" asked Blaise abruptly, narrowing his eyes on Harry.

Harry sank down in his seat, feeling threatened by the sharp gaze. He didn't know if Blaise was just a simple squib hater or if it was the prospect that he just shook hands with one; either way the expression on his face wasn't friendly.

Draco scoffed, "I told you just last night that Dursley and his squib cousin were moving in. Aren't I important enough to listen to anymore? Merlin knows you only pay attention when it suits you." He shot Blaise a glare. "Anyway, it doesn't matter if he's a squib or not. Chrestomanci doesn't invite people into his castle if they're totally useless. I'm sure he can be profitable to know in the future."

He gave Harry a meaning look and Harry nodded eagerly. "Yes! I can read and write and cook and clean and loads of other stuff. Oh, and I can find my way everywhere in the castle thanks to my map, so if you're lost then you can just ask me for help." He beamed at them, pretty pleased with what he had to offer.

"What help will you be if we're lost and you're not there at the time?" he asked sceptically.

Harry frowned thoughtfully. He didn't know what to reply to that.

But it turned out he didn't have to, because Draco put a hand on Blaise's arm and got him quiet. He turned to Harry then, and there was a strange light in his eyes.

"You have a map?" he asked curiously.

Harry nodded and pulled it out from his pocket. He handed it over, still folded, to Draco and Blaise and clasped his hands in his lap, apprehensive to be judged.

Draco unfolded the parchment and looked down at the map. Blaise leaned over to get a peek as well.

The blonde frowned slightly. "This only shows the first floor", he noted.

"You have to tell it what floor you want to see and it will change. It's magical", explained Harry proudly. "Your father made it for me."

But Draco wasn't listening very closely anymore. He tried the map by saying what seemed to be all the levels of the castle and his eyes brightened for every result he got.

Blaise nodded appreciatively once Draco was done.

"Useful", he said.

"What did I tell you? I knew he would turn out to be worth it", mocked Draco and folded the map back to the small patch it was before. As he reached over the table and handed it back to Harry, he said, "Looks like we have a deal, Harry. A companionship it is."

A/N: *Draco is currently the future heir of the House of Black since Sirius is still in Azkaban for reasons unknown so far and until he's freed and declared innocent (IF he is innocent), then his Will does not count and Harry gets nothing if Sirius dies. BUT since Draco's mother was a Black and he is the youngest - and only child - connected to both the Blacks and the Malfoys, he is the current heir of those families.