Author's Note
I can't believe I'm writing this.
This came to me as an idea when I was browsing through my list of google docs filled with ideas for Harry Potter fics, and I wondered. Hey, what would it be like if there was a worldwide role reversal? What if Voldemort was good and Dumbledore was evil? What if Draco was the Boy Who Lived, and Harry was the rich heir? You get the idea. Plus, I recently read a quite interesting Draco BWL, Dark Gryffindor Light Slytherin fanfic (as well as Phoenix Corrupted, which inspired some elements of this fic), so I decided that I may as well write this since I can't get the idea out of my head.
Now, without further ado, please enjoy the first chapter of Draco Malfoy, The Boy Who Lived!
Draco Malfoy had always known that he was far from an ordinary boy.
There was how his family treated him, of course. Draco knew that no ordinary boy was treated like he was. It wasn't like they hated him, per se, but Draco wasn't stupid enough to think that they liked him much.
His aunt, Andromeda Tonks, was always rather strict and harsh with him. She wouldn't let him go out and ride a broomstick or play Quidditch, she would tutor him in subjects like magical theory and history and punish him harshly when he made mistakes, and would tell him often that he wasn't special, he was just an average child, and he shouldn't go letting the fame he had get to his head. She always looked at him with an air of veiled disgust and annoyance. Draco thought that out of all of his family, Aunt Andromeda liked him the least.
His uncle, Ted Tonks, was better, but not by much. While he was jovial and pleasant around Aunt Andromeda, his cousin, and anyone he happened to speak to, he didn't treat Draco with any of that fondness. Uncle Ted would spend most of his day pointedly ignoring Draco, but when he did address him, it was usually to order Draco to fetch him the Daily Prophet or something along a similar vein of thought. He would occasionally complain about having to buy Draco new robes or new things, and would tell him to be grateful that they "were keeping a roof over his head, putting food in his mouth, and giving him the clothes on his back". Draco honestly just felt like Uncle Ted thought of him as nothing more than someone mooching off of his money. He didn't seem to actually dislike him as Aunt Andromeda seemed to. but wasn't particularly fond of him either.
His cousin, Nymphadora Tonks, was probably the most tolerable family member Draco had, although that certainly wasn't saying much when she was being compared to Uncle Ted or worse, Aunt Andromeda. Dora was technically more pleasant than his Aunt or Uncle, but she wasn't good, by any means. She would constantly prank him, make fun of him, and when she was in her more vicious moods, even test spells that she learned in Hogwarts out on him (out of her parents' sight, of course). Draco thanked Merlin that she had graduated Hogwarts last year and was going off to the Auror Academy, both because she would finally go out to get her own place even during summers and because she wouldn't be there to torment him during school.
But that wasn't the only, or even the main reason, why Draco considered himself quite the abnormal child. No, the real reason was something far different, far more meaningful, far more important than having a bad relationship with his family.
Draco Malfoy was the Boy Who Lived. He was the vanquisher of the Black Phoenix, Albus Dumbledore, whose Killing Curse had rebounded from his body when he was a mere baby and destroyed him. Draco was essentially a celebrity. Everywhere he went, people were bombarding him for pictures, autographs, and handshakes, dying to see the face of the Boy who Lived. Aunt Andromeda had always pursed her lips and roughly pushed Draco away from the crowds of his adoring fans, telling him strictly to not let all of his fame get to his head. Uncle Ted would merely cross his arms and scowl at anyone who approached Draco whenever he was there. Uncle Ted was a very tall, very large, and very intimidating man, so people wisely steered clear whenever they were together. Dora would just laugh and tease him about all the people who seemed to adore him and even mockingly act like his fans to rile him up (one time, when Draco was 10 and at a Yule festival hosted by some rich pureblood family, a girl around his age had fainted dead away in front of him upon realizing that she was being asked to pass the biscuits by the Boy Who Lived himself, and Dora had mimed swooning fits at him for the next two weeks, much to his embarrassment and anger).
How did Draco feel about that?
Considering that his parents had been killed by Dumbledore on the same day that Draco had vanquished the Dark Lord...he couldn't say he was particularly fond of all of the attention he got.
Draco did like attention. He liked attention when he accomplished something. He liked attention when he did something right, something cool, something great...not attention that he got because of something he couldn't even remember. Attention for something he barely even did. It had always heavily grated on his nerves that they all only saw him as the Boy Who Lived and nothing more. Nobody cared that he was Draco Malfoy, the son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, two of Dumbledore's greatest victims. Nobody cared that he was Draco Malfoy, an orphan whose parents had died on the day everyone celebrated. Nobody cared that he was Draco Malfoy, a literal 11 year old kid.
Hell, the only people that seemed to see him beyond his title as the Boy Who Lived were his bloody family.
Dora didn't care who he was, she still continued to prank and bully him.
Uncle Ted didn't give any concessions to Draco as the Boy Who Lived. He only bought him second-hand clothes. He lived in a spare room that he had a feeling used to be a broom closet that was renovated. While Dora received extravagant presents for holidays and birthdays, Draco was given chocolate frog cards, candy bars, or if he was lucky, a couple of sickles.
As for Aunt Andromeda, she would just sniff at all the attention Draco got and assure him he wasn't anything special, that he shouldn't revel in it like a common thug. Draco might have appreciated it if she didn't sound so damn condescending when she spoke. She had never abused him or anything, but the way she looked at him sometimes...Draco wondered what he had done to deserve that. He had always been a fairly well-behaved kid. He did what his aunt and uncle asked of him dutifully, he never asked for much, and he didn't shout in a rage or throw tantrums like Dora did when she was upset.
Draco sighed as he brushed his teeth in the upstairs bathroom, using his free hand to push back is hair and reveal the thin, jagged, lightning bolt scar that had made him so famous.
"Draco!" He heard Aunt Andromeda yell from downstairs, causing Draco to jump slightly. "Get down here and eat your breakfast, now!"
Draco quickly spit the toothpaste out of his mouth and gargled on some water to get rid of the minty taste invading his taste buds. He cast one longing glance at the mirror, looking morosely at his unruly, bed-mussed hair, and then at the bottle of Sleakeazy resting on the counter, but sprang downstairs at his aunt's second, now annoyed-sounding call. Aunt Andromeda didn't like repeating herself. At least for him.
As he walked into the dining room, he found Uncle Ted spearing some bacon as he read the Prophet, words swimming and people moving in the paper. Aunt Andromeda was sitting next to him, daintily cutting up her food. The house elves were manning the kitchen, the sizzling of bacon sounding like music to Draco's ears. Dora had leaned her chair back against the wall, feet kicked up on the table as she absent-mindedly chewed on a piece of toast.
Aunt Andromeda looked up as Draco slipped into a seat, and pursed her lips.
"Why didn't you comb your hair?" She asked, looking annoyed. Draco had to suppress a frown.
"Sorry, Aunt Andromeda," he muttered as a house elf popped into view next to him and placed down a plate of breakfast before disappearing once more. "I was in a rush."
"Maybe you should try waking up earlier, then," Dora said lazily as she popped another piece of toast in her mouth. "You don't need that much sleep, Drakey."
Draco clenched his jaw to force back the scowl that threatened to form on his face. Dora knew he hated being called 'Drakey', but she still did it anyways just to annoy him.
"I'll try to wake up earlier, then," he said shortly as he looked down at his breakfast once more and almost frowning again as he compared it to the size of the rest of his family's. It wasn't like they were starving him, but his portions were smaller than the rest of them (especially Uncle Ted's).
"Say, Dora, aren't you going off to the Auror Academy today?" Uncle Ted asked jovially, looking up from his paper and beaming at his daughter.
"Hm?" Dora looked over at him, before perking up. "Oh, yeah! I'll be flooing there in about an hour!"
"You excited?" Uncle Ted asked with an indulgent smile. Dora nodded enthusiastically, her formerly lazy mood being replaced by a bright happiness.
"Yep!" She chirped. "Been waiting for this day since I was 6, you know that!"
"Make sure you don't slack off, Nymphadora," Aunt Andromeda said, smiling slightly. "The Auror Academy is very rigorous."
"Mum," Dora whined. "Stop calling me that. I swear, I'm going to change my name to Tonks Tonks at this rate."
Draco sniggered at Dora's words, and she stopped her complaints to look acidly at Draco.
"Think that's funny, Drakey?" She drew out the nickname long and hard, getting on Draco's hidden nerves. "I'd rather be called that than have the last name of Malfoy." She made a face. "Merlin, it sounds like a bad type of foie gras or something."
"I bet you don't even know what that is," Draco spit out in anger before he could help himself.
"Oi," Uncle Ted looked at him, all traces of former pleasantness gone. "Don't antagonize your cousin."
"She was-"
"Enough, Draco," Aunt Andromeda cut in sharply. "Cease your mindless chatter and finish your breakfast."
Draco scowled into his breakfast but complied. He didn't want to get locked in the broom shed again - the last time he had a full-blown argument with his aunt, that's what she had done. He had only been 9, then, too, and he'd been forced to stay there for the next 5 hours before Aunt Andromeda finally let him out so he could eat dinner.
Draco had suffered through the rest of breakfast in silence. Uncle Ted and Dora joked around with each other the entire time, pointedly ignoring him, while Aunt Andromeda just smiled and shook her head at their antics. She was never that patient with Draco, no matter what he did. Only Dora and Uncle Ted. Actually, he took that back. She was that patient with basically everyone except him.
What is about me? Draco wondered as he chewed on his eggs. Was it because of his status as the Boy Who Lived? He knew his aunt didn't like his fame, and tut-tutted when they were out in public and hordes of people crowded Draco. In fact, that was the reason Draco was mostly left at home when they went out, only bringing him out when they were measuring second-hand clothes for him or they were invited to some ministry gala where he had to be present. To be honest, that was the one of the few things Draco appreciated about his family - he didn't like the attention he got any more than they did.
But that couldn't be a reason to dislike him, right? It wasn't his fault he was famous. And besides, Dora and Uncle Ted didn't seem to disdain him as much as Aunt Andromeda did, and they were just as impacted by Draco's status as she was.
Draco mused on those thoughts as he continued to eat his breakfast, before being interrupted by a sharp tapping noise on the window. He turned, and spotted a large tawny owl pecking at the glass, carrying a letter with elegant scrawl that he couldn't make out from his spot on the dining table.
"Let the owl in, Dora," Uncle Ted said pleasantly. Dora rolled her eyes.
"Make Draco let it in," she said.
"Let the owl in, Draco," Uncle Ted turned to him, cheerful tone gone.
"Make Dora let it in," he protested. "She can just use magic, can't she?"
"I'll use magic on you if you don't let it in," Dora waved her wand languidly.
Draco ignored her. As bad as Aunt Andromeda and Uncle Ted could be, they had never allowed Dora to actually physically harm him while he was in their sights.
"I can't use magic. I haven't even learned it yet," he continued.
"And?" Aunt Andromeda raised an elegant eyebrow.
Draco very nearly openly scowled at his aunt.
"Fine, I'll go get it," he said, shoving down his growing anger as he got off of his chair and walked over to the window, where the owl's pecking became more incessant and more furious. "Calm down, mate," he muttered to the owl as he unlocked the latch and let the owl in. The owl let out a screech of what he assumed was anger, dropping the letter on his head, and flying out.
Draco took the letter off of his head and walked back to the dining table as he read who the letter was addressed for.
Mr. D. Malfoy
The Smallest Bedroom
7 Park Road
Warwick
Draco couldn't stop the grin from forming on his face as he registered that the waxed seal on the letter was the crest of Hogwarts.
I finally got my Hogwarts letter! Draco thought in jubilation as sat back down at the table.
"Well?" Dora asked impatiently. "What's it say?"
"It's my acceptance letter to Hogwarts," Draco said. He knew since he was a little kid that this day would come, of course, but to actually see the letter, to actually feel it clutched in his hand, was a completely different, much more exciting feeling.
"I see," Aunt Andromeda smiled thinly. "Read it then, will you? We won't know for sure until you see the contents of the letter."
"Yeah, what if you're a squib, Drakey?" Dora needled. "That'd be a right shame, wouldn't it?"
Uncle Ted chuckled into his food, but he didn't say anything as Draco frowned. He knew that he wasn't a squib - he'd shown several signs of accidental magic before, but that didn't mean he appreciated his aunt and cousin saying that he didn't have magic any more. Still, he ignored it as he opened his envelope and read what was inside of it.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: TOM RIDDLE JR.
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Special Serv., Founder; Mglbrn. Primary, Dabbling in Defense Chf. Editor, Lord Gaunt)
Dear Mr. Malfoy,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all the necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Horace Slughorn,
Deputy Headmaster
Draco couldn't hold back his grin as he finished reading the letter, feeling exhilarated. He had done it! He'd been accepted into Hogwarts! Draco had heard Aunt Andromeda and Uncle Ted tell stories of Hogwarts to Dora, and Dora to regale her parents with tales of her own escapades there, and felt like he would burst from the excitement. He was going to the greatest magical school in Europe!
"It says that I'm accepted," Draco said breathlessly.
"Damn," Dora muttered. "Well, good on you, Drakey," she said, raising her glass of orange juice at him lazily in a mock toast. "Hope you don't fail. Or maybe I do. Who knows?"
Aunt Andromeda and Uncle Ted weren't saying anything, and Draco remembered suddenly that there was a list of things that he needed to buy for his first year.
"Um...Uncle Ted? Aunt Andromeda?" Draco began tentatively.
"What?" Uncle Ted grunted.
"It's just that...I have to buy some required things for my first year," Draco thrust the letter toward his aunt and uncle. "Could we...go to Diagon Alley sometime?"
Draco knew that Uncle Ted didn't like to spend money on him (not because they weren't well off, Draco's uncle was a Healer and earned a considerable amount of money, while his aunt had rather large inheritance due to her being a member of the Black Family), and Aunt Andromeda wasn't much better, but they had to let him buy his things for Hogwarts, didn't they?
"I suppose," Uncle Ted muttered. "Don't think we'll get you anything fancy, though, Draco."
Aunt Andromeda actually pursed her lips at that.
"About that, Ted...we probably have to," she murmured. Draco couldn't believe his ears upon that - was his aunt actually arguing to buy him expensive things? Draco had never had expensive things before! Much less ones that his aunt pushed for him to have.
Uncle Ted's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and annoyance.
"What? Why?"
"He's the Boy Who Lived," Aunt Andromeda explained matter-of-factly, and Draco felt his short-lived happiness crumble immediately. "What would people think if he was walking around in second hand robes?"
Of course that was why she would argue for him to get new things. Why wasn't he surprised?
Uncle Ted frowned, but Aunt Andromeda stared him down until he finally sighed and deflated.
"Fine, Andy," he said grudgingly, before turning to Draco. "You better be grateful for this, boy. You hear me?"
Draco nodded hurriedly, not wanting to waste the chance he had to actually get some new things for once.
"Yes sir," he said quickly. "May I be excused?"
Uncle Ted nodded distractedly, going back to his paper now that the excitement had died down.
"Make sure to send a reply to Hogwarts with Horus," he waved Draco off. Draco gave a nod of affirmation before waking away from the table towards his aunt and uncle's room, where the family's eagle owl was kept, as their house elf appeared with a crack and took away his plate. Draco didn't notice or care, too busy brewing in his excitement.
This was it! After 11 years, he'd finally received his Hogwarts letter! He'd finally get to learn magic! He'd finally get to do something worthwhile! He'd finally be able to craft his own destiny!
And nobody was going to stop him!
It was 8 o'clock in the morning when Draco's aunt and uncle had called him over to the fireplace to floo over to the Leaky Cauldron, the entrance of Diagon Alley. Dora had left yesterday about an hour after Draco had finished breakfast, leaving Aunt Andromeda to smile proudly and Uncle Ted to sob about his 'baby girl finally growing up' in her wake. Draco had merely shifted uncomfortably behind them and awkwardly wished his cousin good luck under his breath.
Aunt Andromeda's face pinched when she saw him, as if she was examining him for flaws. Draco knew she wouldn't be able to find any. He was in his best robes, the ones he normally only wore to Ministry galas or visits from Uncle Ted's or Aunt Andromeda's friends. He had styled his hair with Sleakeazy, and had thoroughly washed and scrubbed his face. He looked good, and he knew it.
"At least you know how to dress yourself properly," she said grudgingly, at last, before offering the bag of green floo powder to him, already holding some of the powder in her other hand. "You know how to use the floo, I hope?"
"Yes, Aunt Andromeda," he responded as he accepted the small bag. Aunt Andromeda appraised him with a critical eye, before turning around to face Ted.
"Come on then, dear," she said to her husband. "Let's not tardy."
"Right, right," Uncle Ted nodded, before throwing a pinch of floo powder into the fireplace, which immediately shot up and roared, turning from orange to green. Ted walked forward into it, and roared "THE LEAKY CAULDRON!" before he vanished a blaze of green flames. Aunt Andromeda quickly followed him after one last suspicious backwards glance at Draco.
Once he was alone in the house, Draco walked forward, setting the floo powder bag on the table with his right hand and holding a handful in his left. He tossed the green powder into the fireplace, careful not to get any in his nose and accidentally sneeze (something that had happened to Dora on several occasions).
"THE LEAKY CAULDRON!" Draco called out as he stepped into the fireplace. Draco had used the floo many times before, but he still couldn't get fully used to the sensation of it. It felt like he was being sucked down a giant pipe: his body was spinning, falling, roaring filled his ears and he barely managed to keep his eyes open, before just as quickly as it came, the feeling ended, and Draco regained control of his limbs once more, walking out of the fireplace as casually as he could and dusting off his robes. Standing there, waiting for him, stood an impatient looking Uncle Ted and Aunt Andromeda.
"Good, you're here," Aunt Andromeda said as she glanced at her watch. "Lucky for you, Ted and I had already withdrawn money from Gringotts to buy Dora's going-away present, so we won't need to stop there. You go ahead to buy your robes. Ted and I will get your books and other materials."
"We'll meet outside of Ollivander's in about an hour," Uncle Ted chimed in. "Not a minute later, you hear me?"
Draco had a feeling that Uncle Ted and Aunt Andromeda just wanted to get rid of him so they didn't have to deal with him being surrounded by adoring fans and strangers, but to be completely honest, he didn't really want to go around shopping with them either. It would be a nice respite from having to deal with his aunt and uncle on a daily basis to go out and get his own robes.
So he just tilted his head in agreement.
"Yes Aunt Andromeda, Uncle Ted," he said politely. "May I have some money?"
Uncle Ted grumbled something under his breath, but fished in the pocket of his robes before chucking a sack of coins at Draco, who caught the jingling bag deftly. He glanced inside of it and was greeted by a truly large amount of galleons, sickles, and knuts. His aunt and uncle clearly weren't lacking in terms of money, that was for sure.
"Make sure that you buy new robes," Uncle Ted grunted grudgingly. "Good qualtiy. We don't want to look bad by getting you second hand clothes, you hear me?"
Draco felt a bit of vindictive satisfaction at them being forced to pretend to like him in public (because who would treat the Boy Who Lived with disdain, right?) but suppressed the smirk that threatened to form on his face and just nodded.
"Good," Aunt Andromeda said. "Well, Ted and I must be off, then, Draco. I hope you're able to manage your fans without us." With that, both her and Uncle Ted turned and swiftly walked away, vanishing out of sight of the Leaky Cauldron's floo entrance and into the hub of the tavern. Draco just sighed, mentally preparing himself before he was probably going to be bombarded with requests for autographs or photos.
Still, Draco rolled his shoulders, stuffed the sack of coins into his pockets, and walked into the hub of the tavern. For a place that was so reputable and well-known, it wasn't particularly well kept. It was dark, shabby, and gave off the impression of a seedy establishment, even though Draco knew it was anything but. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, Tom, who Draco had managed to get somewhat acquainted with over the years, due to his aunt and uncle having to sometimes take him to Diagon Alley to measure his robe size.
As Draco stepped into the main room, all of the talking and hubbub ceased, and all eyes turned to him. Draco forced himself not to sigh in annoyance, and put on a tight smile as he was swarmed by swathes of people who eagerly shook his hand.
"An absolute pleasure to meet you, Mr. Malfoy-"
"Thank you-"
"I'm a massive fan, my daughters still won't go to bed without hearing your story every night-"
"That's very flattering-"
"I can't believe I'm meeting Draco Malfoy-"
"Yes, good to meet you as well, but I have to go buy some things-"
"ALRIGHT!" Tom the bartender bellowed. "GIVE THE LAD SOME SPACE, YOU WASTRELS, OR ALL OF YOUR ORDERS ARE CANCELLED!"
Just as fast as people had approached Draco, they edged away from him as if he had dragon pox, muttering mutinously and taking their seats once again. Draco didn't bother to hide his sigh of relief as he was finally able to breath properly again.
"Thanks," he said as he walked over to Tom, who just waved his hand dismissively at him.
"My pleasure, Mr. Malfoy," he waved off Draco's words. "What brings you here?"
"I got my Hogwarts letter yesterday," Draco said, the familiar feeling of excitement coming back to him. "I'm here to buy my things."
"Are you, now?" Tom's weathered face broke into a grin. "Ah, I remember the day I got my letter. Couldn't be happier, myself. Need some help getting into Diagon Alley?"
"Yes, please," Draco said quickly, he had been wondering how in Merlin's name he was going to get into it without a wand or his aunt and uncle.
Tom slid out of his position behind the bar counter, and Draco followed him through the bar into a small courtyard with a massive brick wall blocking out anything beyond the pub.
"Right then," Tom muttered as he pulled out his wand. "Three up... two across...that should do it."
Draco watched the familiar movement of Tom's wand as he tapped the wall, having seen his aunt and uncle and even Dora perform the same movements several times before, and couldn't hold back his grin as the bricks split and parted, revealing the loud, bright, and bustling streets of Diagon Alley.
"There you are, Mr. Malfoy," Tom beamed, clapping Draco on the back. "Hogwarts is going to be the best time of your life, I guarantee it. Make sure you enjoy it, y' hear me?"
"I will, Tom," Draco said breathlessly. "Thanks."
With a final chuckle, Tom walked back into the pub while Draco entered Diagon Alley, the bricks closing in on themselves behind them.
Draco had been in Diagon Alley before, but he still couldn't get over just how incredible it was. Everywhere he looked he saw people, stores, bright lights, and things to be sold. Families were walking, shopping bags laden with goods. Kids were laughing and running around with their friends. Shopkeepers were yelling from the outside of their stores, advertising their wares.
"Get your expandable trunks! 50 galleons for standard, 100 for premium, by two get one free-"
"Mum, can I get the new Nimbus, pleaaase-"
"He won't be able to resist you in these robes, trust me-"
Draco hoped that nobody would recognize him.
But, as fate would have it, hope wasn't enough to stop his adoring fans.
"Oh my, that's Draco Malfoy!" One woman called out. Draco jumped as she pointed towards him, holding back a groan as everyone began to stare at him.
"Please, I'm trying to buy my school supplies-" Draco tried, but they cut him off as he crowded him.
"Mr. Malfoy, can you sign my robes?"
"Mr. Malfoy, can you sign my forehead?"
"Mr. Malfoy-"
"I can't believe it's really you-"
"Oi," a voice that sounded like it was coming from a girl whispered in his ear. "You want to get away from all of these people?"
Draco nodded hurriedly, desperate for an escape.
"Please," he said as fast as he could. He heard the girl giggle.
"SWEET MERLIN, THE NIMBUS 2001 WAS RELEASED EARLY!" She bellowed suddenly, causing Draco to jump at the sudden change in volume of her tone. "ONLY TWO IN STOCK IN QUALITY QUIDDITCH SUPPLIES NOW! YOU BETTER GO THERE FAST IF YOU WANT TO SEE IT!"
Draco watched several of his fans perk up at the girl's announcement, and let himself sag as they began to move away from him. He was, of course, relieved as the people left him be (although not without some reluctance, but apparently the prospect of getting a new racing broom outweighed meeting the Boy Who Lived), but he couldn't help but feel a bit confused at how easily they had fell for that. He was only 11, and even he knew that the Nimbus 2001 wasn't coming out for another year, at least.
"People are dumb, aren't they?" He heard the girl giggle again. Draco gave a start as he realized she was still there, and turned around to meet his savior. She was a girl about an inch shorter than him with straight blonde hair and dark brown eyes, wearing dark green robes that looked a bit too large for her and grinning widely at him. Slung over her shoulder was a bag stuffed with books.
"Yeah," Draco agreed, not sure of what else to say at meeting someone who wasn't starstruck upon seeing him. "Um, sorry, I didn't get your name?"
"Oh!" The girl looked surprised. "Right, my bad. The name's Greengrass. Daphne Greengrass. Pleasure to meet you, Boy Who Lived Through His Suffocating Crowd Of Fans."
She stuck out her hand, and after a few seconds of deliberation, Draco shook it tentatively and allowed a small smile of amusement her words. Daphne's own smile grew wider.
"You should consider mussing up your hair or something to cover your scar. Lower your head too. Try to blend in with the people. You won't be accosted as much if you do, I think. 'Course, it might not work when you're talking to someone face to face, but you never know," she suggested.
Draco, unsure of what else to say, just nodded dumbly.
"Uh, sure. I'll...try that."
"Say, you aren't starting Hogwarts this term, are you?" She asked him suddenly.
"Oh, yeah, I am," Draco responded, beginning to feel a bit more at ease. This 'Daphne' had an air about her that just made Draco relax. Maybe it was because she wasn't fangirling over meeting him and was genuinely nice? "I'm actually here to buy my things."
"Really?" Daphne looked excited. "Me too! Maybe we'll see each other in school!" Before Draco could respond, she gave a jump, as if she had just realized something. "Anyways, Draco. Can I call you Draco? I'll call you Draco. Sorry, I'm getting off topic. Anyways, my dad told me to meet them at Fortescue's after I got my books, Tori's been begging for some ice cream since she got here, so I'll have to leave. I'll catch you later, yeah?"
And with that, she was off in a blur of words and smiles, Draco just watching dumbly as the whirlwind of a girl he had just met left. He slowly shook his head, and continued his walk over to Madame Malkin's. He decided to take Daphne's advice, and kept his head down, slumping his shoulders and melding into the crowd of people. He winced as he purposefully mussed up his hair so his bangs could hide his scar. It hurt to look so shabby, but Draco would do whatever it took to prevent him from being swarmed by people.
He didn't expect it to work, but to his surprise, nobody else bothered to approach him as he reached the robes store.
I'll make sure to do this more often, Draco decided. Of course, Aunt Andromeda probably wouldn't be very happy to see him look this disheveled, but she might let it go if it meant they wouldn't be recognized by people.
He walked into the clothing store, the cheerful shop greeting him with a sign that read "Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions". He stepped inside and was greeted by Madame Malkin herself, who beamed at him. He'd gotten fitted by Madame Malkin before, and she'd always treated him like a kid, and while it could get on his nerves sometimes, he did appreciate her lack of adoring gushing at his status as the Boy Who Lived that many others defaulted to when meeting him.
"Well, if it isn't Draco Malfoy! Here for your Hogwarts robes, dear?"
Draco nodded, and passed over the pouch of coins Uncle Ted had given him.
"Standard robes, please. New ones," he still couldn't stop his giddiness as he said the words 'new robes'. It felt good to get new things.
"Of course, of course," Madame Malkin bustled him over to the back of the shop, where another boy around his age was getting fitted with robes. "Why don't you stand next to this young man while I get you fitted?"
Draco walked over to the other boy, who stood in a footstool as a witch pinned up his robes. He had bright green eyes, jet black hair so messy his Aunt would probably have a heart attack if she saw it, and a crooked pair of glasses.
As Draco took the stool next to him and Madame Malkin began to measure his robes, the boy turned to him and offered a lazy smile. He had an air about him that screamed confidence, and Draco honestly felt a bit intimidated by him, even if he hadn't started talking yet.
" 'Lo," he said. "Hogwarts, I guess?"
"Yes," Draco responded. "You?"
"Of course, what else what you think?" The boy asked, raising an eyebrow. "Mum and dad are looking for new dress robes somewhere here. Last thing on my shopping list before I can go home. Already got my wand, of course. Spruce, Dragon Heartstring. About 10 inches. Bendy, according to old Ollivander, whatever that means. How about you?" He took in Draco's slumped posture, messy bangs, and shy demeanor, and wrinkled his nose.
"Um," Draco didn't know how to feel about this boy. He was as talkative as Daphne, the girl he had spoken to before, had been, but seemed a lot more arrogant, judging from how he looked at him as if Draco was worth less than him. "Not yet," he managed. "My aunt and uncle are out getting my books, we're supposed to meet at Ollivander's in about half an hour."
"Aunt and uncle?" The boy raised his eyebrows. "Where're your parents?"
Draco frowned.
"They're dead."
The boy blinked, looking a bit uncomfortable.
"Oh. That sucks. Sorry," he said, although he didn't sound too sorry. "Anyways, you play any Quidditch?"
Draco pulled a face.
"No, my aunt and uncle never let me."
The boy snickered, and Draco's frown grew deeper. What was with this boy? He was acting like a right prat.
"That's unfortunate," he drawled. "I'm a seeker, myself. Dad says I'm already better than he was at my age, and he promised he'd get me the Nimbus 2000. I'm thinking of bullying my way into the quidditch team, dad's name still talks, even in Hogwarts. I mean, we are quite rich, and dad was also Gryffindor's star chaser back when he was in school. It's rubbish that first years aren't allowed brooms anyways, so I'd say it's justified. I'm a better flier than half of those twits at school, I bet. Or maybe I'll try out for Survival Games. Still not sure why that's available to first years but Quidditch isn't, but couldn't care less. Mum still has the trophy from when she won Survival Games in her Sixth Year. With that kind of heritage, there's no way I won't win it as well. I mean, yeah, Riddle's never accepted a first year for Survival Games, but I'm better than them, you see. Probably better than you, too. You don't look like much, to be honest. No offense."
Draco had a feeling that the boy didn't really care whether Draco took offense to what he said or not.
"I...see," Draco said, unsure of what actually to say in response to this boy. He was talking far too quickly for Draco's brain to fully process what he was saying, and Draco wasn't even sure if he liked him very much, with his arrogant attitude. The boy rolled his eyes.
"Merlin, you're quite the downer, aren't you? Lighten up a bit! You look like one of those slimy Slytherins, with how you're keeping your head down like you're hiding something. Speaking of that, know which house you're going to be in?"
Draco didn't know, but he hoped he'd be in Slytherin. After all, his parents had both apparently been Slytherins. So he didn't appreciate how this boy was talking down the house of his parents like that.
"I'm hoping to get into Slytherin, actually," Draco responded coldly.
The boy looked at him with open surprise, before scrunching up his face in disgust.
"You want to be in Slytherin? I'm not surprised, from the look of you, but why? It's a terrible house to be in!"
"Tom Riddle, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, is a Slytherin," Draco found himself arguing, growing more and more angry at the boy's words. "So were Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, and a lot more. They're all good people."
The boy snorted.
"Right, the heroes of the wizarding world," he said in a mocking tone. "I tell you, those kinds of people just want to keep us hidden away from the muggles. We're superior to them! We're magic, and they're not! I say we just take the world back from them! It should be rightfully ours, don't you think?"
Draco felt both very uncomfortable and very angry at the boy's words. Not only had he just mocked his parents and the Hogwarts Headmaster, but he'd also openly denounced the Statute of Secrecy and claimed wizards were superior to muggles. That was the line of thinking that the Black Phoenix had espoused back when he was alive.
"Now, now, Harry," A delicate voice floated to Draco's ears. "You shouldn't be saying such things in public." A beautiful woman with fiery red hair cascading down her shoulders and the same green eyes as the boy he was talking to came into view, clutching a bag filled to the brim with what looked to be extremely expensive dress robes.
The boy, apparently named Harry, rolled his eyes.
"Whatever, mum," he said. "You know it's true, anyways."
"Yeah, c'mon Lils, let the boy be himself. We don't want to be one of those sneaky Slytherins, always hiding our true motives and slithering around, do we?" A deep, jovial voice called out, and behind the woman, a tall, strong-looking man with the same messy hair as the 'Harry' boy and hazel eyes walked over, his mouth curved into a mischievous grin.
The woman looked like she was trying to fight a smile.
"I suppose..." she sighed, before her eyes seemed to lock onto Draco, who felt very uncomfortable under her gaze.
"Say, Harry," she looked back at the boy. "Who's your new friend?"
Harry pulled a face.
"He's a Slytherin wannabe, mum," he protested. "We're not friends."
Draco scowled at that.
The older man's face seemed to grow a bit colder at Harry's words.
"A Slytherin wannabe, eh, Harry? That's unfortunate," He said. "Well, what's your name, boy? I knew some Slytherins back in the day, I might know your family."
"My name is Draco Malfoy," he responded, looking straight into the man's eyes and trying to banish his fear.
Harry started at that.
"You're Draco bloody Malfoy?" He asked incredulously.
"Yeah," he said. "Is there a problem?"
Harry's mother's eyes glittered at that.
"No, no problem at all," she cut in, eyes like cold, green chips of jade. "But to meet the Boy Who Lived face to face...how intriguing," she murmured. Draco thought she was trying to sound friendly, but she seemed anything but at the moment. "How...nice to meet you, Mr. Malfoy. My name is Lily Potter. This is my husband James, and my son Harry. We are...pleased to make your acquaintance."
The older man that looked like a spitting image of Harry except for his eyes, apparently named James, pulled a face at that.
"Oh yeah, I'm pleased alright," he muttered under his breath.
Draco, on the other hand, had turned even paler than he was normally. Merlin, he was talking to the bloody Potter family? Draco had never actually met them in person before, but he'd heard a lot of things about them. They were the richest family in Wizarding Britain, had more influence in the Ministry than anyone except the Minister, and were even thought to be descendants of Godric Gryffindor himself. But that wasn't what Draco was thinking about.
No, the reason Draco felt real fear upon seeing them was because the Potters were rumored to have been some of the Black Phoenix's top lieutenants back during the First War. Lily Potter had gotten off of being punished on the virtue of never having the Mark of the Hallows, the signature tattoo that marked someone as part of the Order of the Phoenix, but James Potter, who had the mark, had claimed to have been under the Imperius Curse and got off scot-free as a result of that (a lot of people, Draco included, thought he had bribed his way to freedom). But even then, many people speculated that he and his family still opposed the Statue of Secrecy and believed in wizarding supremacy.
So to meet them face to face?
Draco was understandably scared, considering who he was.
"I...likewise, Mrs. Potter, Mr. Potter," he said, trying to steady his nerves. He couldn't show weakness in front of them, of all people.
Mr. Potter's eyes flashed.
"That's Lord Potter to you, Mr. Malfoy," he said coldly. "And I won't have you addressing my wife below her stature either. She is Lady Potter, not just Mrs. Potter. Being the Boy Who Lived isn't an excuse for rudeness."
"Now, now, James," Lady Potter said in a seemingly pleasant tone, yet her eyes remained cold as she looked at Draco. "No need to be so harsh, I'm sure Mr. Malfoy here just isn't familiar with the customs." She turned back to Draco, and gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Anyways, Mr. Malfoy, we would love to stay and chat with you, but I'm afraid we must be off now. Come now, Harry, your robes have been measured. It's time to check them out and go home."
"Yes, mum," Harry said drolly as he stepped down from the stool and followed his parents. He turned back to Draco and sneered at him as he followed his parents over to the counter. Draco felt a pit in his stomach as he watched the family of three pay for the robes before leaving.
He had a feeling he'd just made his first enemy.
Draco had managed to make it to Ollivander's on time, even after that...interaction he'd had with the Potters. He vowed not to mention it to Aunt Andromeda or Uncle Ted, he didn't want them yelling at him for antagonizing such a powerful family. He'd also made sure to recomb his hair so his aunt wouldn't have anything to get upset about.
They were waiting for him impatiently outside of the store.
"What took you so long?" Aunt Andromeda frowned at him. Draco furrowed his eyebrows. He got there on time! He was sure of it!
"He made it within the hour, Andy," Uncle Ted cut in, shrugging, snatching the bag of robes from Draco's hands. "Let's just get him his wand so we can leave, alright?"
Aunt Andromeda pursed her lips, but nodded nonetheless.
Draco pushed into the wand shop, coughing as the dust attacked his nose. Ollivander's wand shop was a dusty, small place, boxes of wands stacked everywhere Draco could see. The only piece of furniture there was single, spindly chair, and Draco got the sense that there was some powerful, secret magic in here.
"Ah, Draco Malfoy," a soft, brittle voice said. Draco jumped as a thin, old, weathered wizard with patches of white hair on his head came into view from the counter. "I was wondering when you would come. You look just like your mother, but you have your father's eyes. I still remember selling them their wands. Your father matched with Elm, Dragon Heartstring, fourteen inches, hard. Very elegant and sophisticated, and particularly adept in dueling."
Draco felt his breathing begin to quicken. Nobody had ever told him his parents' wands. Not even Uncle Ted or Aunt Andromeda, who Draco felt stiffen behind him.
"Your mother, on the other hand, was a bit different. She had Rowan, Unicorn Hair, ten and a half inches, reasonably supple. Quite versatile, rather protective, and very good with defensive magic. Both of them accomplished great things with their wands...I wonder if you will as well?"
"Yes, that is why we're here," Aunt Andromeda snapped suddenly. "So you'll have to excuse me if I don't appreciate the history lesson, Mr. Ollivander. Draco needs his wand."
Draco winced at his aunt's sharp tone, wondering what could have made her so upset. Ollivander, on the other hand, seemed to take no offense, merely ignoring her and opting to staring at Draco with his unblinking silver eyes, extending a hand out to touch his scar lightly. Draco flinched at the contact.
"I still remember my father telling me about the wand that gave you that scar, as well...Elder Wood, Phoenix Feather, 14 and a half inches, Unyielding...extremely powerful and extremely special...one of the only Elder wands my family had ever sold..."
"Mr. Ollivander," Aunt Andromeda said coldly. "The wands, if you please."
"Of course, of course," Ollivander murmured in his dusty tone. "My apologies." He pulled out a long tape measure and began a process of measuring Draco. Once he finished, he nodded to himself and disappeared into the back of the store, before coming out with a wand.
"Apple and Unicorn Hair, 8 inches. Give it a wave, will you?" Draco accepted the wand and swished it around. Nothing happened, and Ollivander snatched the wand away from him.
"No, no, that's not it...try this. Reed and Dragon Heartstring, 10 and three quarters inches."
Draco waved it around, and it sent out a bold of electricity that knocked over a shelf of wands. Ollivander just grinned, before taking the wand from his hand once more.
"Not to worry, Mr. Malfoy. We'll find you a wand yet."
And so, the processs went. Nothing Draco held seemed to fit him. He exploded vases, set fires to boxes, and caused shelves to fall on themselves. One time, he'd collapsed the chair that Uncle Ted had taken a seat on upon contact with a wand, which caused the older man to shoot Draco a nasty glare before dusting himself off and getting up.
Ollivander frowned at him thoughtfully, as if a thought suddenly came to him.
"I wonder...perhaps...could it be?" He pulled out a wand from under his counter and pushed it toward Draco.
"Willow, Phoenix Feather, 12 and a quarter inches, rather rigid. I have a good feeling about this one, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco accepted the wand, and as he touched it, he felt a warmth spread from his fingers through the rest of his body. An immediate feeling of comfort enveloped him, and suddenly, Draco just felt that this wand was right. This was his. It had to be. The wand emitted a warm glow upon his touch.
"Interesting...how interesting..."Ollivander gazed at Draco. "Who would have expected that your wand would carry the core of the Black Phoenix's familiar itself?"
Draco felt his mouth go dry.
"What?" He asked.
"Yes, Mr. Malfoy...your wand is truly most intruiging...Willow wands consistently seek out those with the greatest potential, and Phoenix Feather cores are the rarest of them all. That too, a feather from the phoenix of the most powerful Dark Lord in history...a fitting combination, I suppose, considering who you are. Yes, I believe we can expect great things from you, Mr. Malfoy...after all, even the Black Phoenix himself did great things...terrible, yes...but great..."
Draco swallowed hard at Ollivander's words, unsure of how to react to his words.
"That will be 7 galleons, if you please," Ollivander said suddenly, and Draco pulled out his pouch of money and handed over the required coins, before following Aunt Andromeda and Uncle Ted out of the shop. Aunt Andromeda, for some reason, wouldn't even look at him. Uncle Ted just looked tired, probably from having to lug around Draco's things. Draco himself felt rather uncomfortable from his interaction with Ollivander, and so their walk back to the floo passed in silence. Even as they went home, Uncle Ted just dumped Draco's things in his room and told him to go study or something, before going off to speak to Aunt Andromeda.
Still, despite how his day in Diagon Alley had ended on a weird note, Draco was still happy. He had a wand! He was going to Hogwarts!
Things were starting to look up for him!