The evening sun cast long shadows through the corridor of Potter Manor as Harry and Draco tiptoed quietly up the creaky wooden staircase. Their soft footsteps echoed in the hushed stillness of the manor.

Eleven-year-old Draco may not have known many things, but he knew two things for certain: he was finally going to Hogwarts this year, and his best friend was an idiot.

Draco whispered urgently, "Potter, are you sure this is a good idea? We're going to get caught, and it's going to be your fault. You're such an idiot."

Harry turned to Draco, a sassy grin playing on his lips. "Well, Dray, you're my only inspiration."

Draco huffed in response but followed Harry as he approached a door at the end of the corridor. Harry carefully turned the doorknob, his heart pounding in his chest. The door opened with a barely audible click, and Harry couldn't help but cheer silently to himself when he saw what lay inside.

Draco's eyes widened when he stepped into the room. It was a nursery, untouched for years, perhaps even decades. The room was painted in a pale honey color, and large windows adorned with delicate curtains allowed the gentle, natural light to filter in. In the center of the room, there was a beautifully crafted crib. Its frame was painted in a soft ivory color with intricate, hand-painted details of constellations. The crib was dressed in a set of bedding that matched the pastel theme, with soft, cloud-like pillows and a plush mattress for the utmost comfort.

Nestled inside the crib were four plushies. A green plush snake with pastel stripes wound its way around the crib's bars, its friendly face adorned with a cute smile. A fluffy rabbit plushie with long, floppy ears sat near the snake, its gentle eyes and soft fur inviting cuddles. Next to them, a lovable dog plushie with upturned and downturned ears and a wagging tail added a touch of canine charm to the collection. Lastly, a majestic wolf plushie, with its soft gray fur and piercing hazel eyes, stood guard at one corner of the crib.

Draco stepped into the room after Harry and couldn't help but be intrigued. "Potter, where are we?"

Harry turned to Draco with a small smile. "This was my sister's old room."

Draco's eyes widened in surprise. "You never mentioned you had a sister."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, her name was Hermione. That's all I remember."

Draco couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Harry. "I didn't know, Harry," he said quietly.

Harry shrugged, his gaze returning to the plushies in the crib. "Dad doesn't like talking about her," he admitted. "This is the first time I have fully entered. There was one time when I tried to come into this room when we were younger. Dad caught me and shouted at me, banning me from stepping in this room."

Draco raised his eyebrows in shock. "Your dad shouted at you?" he asked incredulously. "Uncle James shouted at you?"

Harry nodded, a touch of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. "Yeah," he admitted quietly. "I was just a kid, and I didn't understand why he was so angry. I think this room holds a lot of memories for him, memories he didn't want me to intrude upon."

Before Draco could respond, a voice from behind them startled both boys. "What are you two doing in this room?"

Harry and Draco turned around with frightened eyes, like deer caught in the headlights. Standing in the doorway was their Uncle Regulus, a stern expression on his face.

"Well?" he prompted, his tone demanding an explanation, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the two guilty-looking boys.

Harry and Draco exchanged nervous glances before Harry finally managed to stammer out an answer. "We... we were just... um, exploring, Uncle Regulus. We didn't mean any harm."

Regulus sighed, his stern expression softening slightly. "This room holds a lot of memories for our family," he said, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "It was your sister's room when she was a baby, Harry. Your grandparents and your parents put a lot of love into it."

Draco nodded, trying to look as contrite as possible. "We didn't mean to disrespect it, Uncle Regulus. We were just curious."

Regulus regarded them for a moment before his lips twitched into a small smile. "Curiosity is a powerful thing," he said. "But remember, some doors are best left unopened, and some memories are best left undisturbed. Come on, you two. Let's go back downstairs."

The night was quiet and peaceful as both families gathered around the warm, crackling fire in the cozy living room of Potter Manor. Harry and Draco, completely unaware of the conversation taking place downstairs, slept soundly upstairs.

Regulus, sitting in a plush armchair by the fireplace, was the first to break the silence. He turned to James, his expression serious. "James, this morning, I caught Draco and Harry in Hermione's room," he said, causing James's eyes to widen.

Lily, sitting next to James, gently rubbed his shoulder in a comforting gesture as she asked, "What were they doing, Regulus? Were they looking for something?"

Regulus shook his head. "No, Lily, they weren't looking for anything. They were just... taking in the room, I suppose."

Sirius, who had been quietly observing the conversation, spoke up, his gaze fixed on James. "James, it's time you told Harry about his older sister," he said, his tone firm but compassionate. "He's not a child anymore. He deserves to know how amazing Hermione was."

James protested weakly, "I'm not ready, Sirius. It's... it's still too painful."

Sirius frowned, his eyes filled with concern. "People at Hogwarts are going to talk, James."

Lucius interjected, his voice calm but pointed. "Indeed, James. People are calling Harry 'the Boy Who Lived' at the cost of Hermione's kidnapping. It's cruel."

Lily turned to her husband, her eyes filled with love and understanding. She spoke in the softest, most reassuring voice, "Honey, you are more than ready to speak about our daughter. There's nobody better than you to tell Harry about his sister, your principessa."

Narcissa Malfoy added somberly, "And it's important to honor Hermione's memory, James. Harry needs to know about the sister he never had the chance to meet."

James sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He knew they were all right. Harry deserved to know about Hermione, and it was time to share the story of his beloved daughter with his son. "You're right, all of you. I'll talk to Harry about Hermione tomorrow. It's time he knows the truth."

Diagon Alley bustled with life as Harry and Draco strolled along its cobbled streets. The magical marketplace was a sensory overload for the two young wizards, with shops and stalls filled with wondrous and curious items of all kinds. Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of awe as he took in the sights and sounds.

James and Lucius, who had been conversing in hushed tones, approached their

sons. James gently placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, while Lucius did the same with Draco.

"Come along, boys," James said, leading them toward a shop with a weathered sign that read "Ollivanders." "It's time to get your wands."

Inside Ollivanders, the air was thick with the scent of ancient wood and magic. The shelves were lined with countless boxes of wands, each one seemingly waiting for its destined owner. A frail, elderly wizard with twinkling eyes stood behind the counter, and when he saw Harry, his eyes widened with recognition.

"Ah, the Boy Who Lived," Ollivander said softly, his voice carrying a mixture of reverence and sadness. "I always expected it would be your sister to walk through that door."

With that, Ollivander set to work, selecting a variety of wands for Harry to try. Each wand was carefully examined and tested, but none seemed to respond to Harry's touch. The shopkeeper's eyes darted back and forth as he watched the process, his fingers expertly selecting and discarding wands from the countless boxes that lined the shelves.

Finally, Ollivander presented a wand with an 11-inch hollywood shaft and a phoenix feather core to Harry. As soon as Harry held it in his hand, the wand seemed to come alive. A soft, golden glow enveloped it, and a warm, tingling sensation coursed through Harry's fingers. It was as if the wand had chosen him.

"Ah, yes," Ollivander said with a knowing smile. "Eleven inches, holly, phoenix feather. A powerful combination, and it seems to have chosen you, young man."

Harry grinned, a sense of wonder filling him as he held his new wand. "It feels right," he said with conviction.

Ollivander then turned his attention to Draco, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "It's unusual to see a Potter and a Malfoy together in my shop," he remarked.

Draco's attempts were met with sparks, smoke, and even a few feathers flying around, but nothing felt quite right. Finally, he held a 10-inch wand made of hawthorn wood with a unicorn hair core. When he waved it, a subtle harmony filled the air, as if the wand itself sang in response.

Ollivander's eyes sparkled with intrigue. "Hawthorn and unicorn hair," he mused. "A curious combination, but it seems to have chosen you, young Malfoy. Ten inches, if I'm not mistaken." Draco nodded, a sense of satisfaction washing over him as he held his new wand.

Harry and Draco had their faces pressed against the display of Quality Quidditch Supplies. Harry marveled at the thought of finally having a top-of-the-line broom, while Draco couldn't help but admire its craftsmanship.

Their conversation was interrupted by a voice from behind. "Hey, you there!"

Startled, Harry and Draco turned around to find a red-haired boy with freckles standing before them. The boy had a curious expression, his gaze fixed on Harry.

"Are you... are you the Boy Who Lived?" the red-haired boy asked hesitantly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "The one who had his sister kidnapped on the night Voldemort died?"

"Is that what everybody is calling me?" Harry's heart sank at the mention of his sister, and he nodded solemnly. "Yes, I guess I am," he replied, his voice tinged with sadness.

Draco, ever the protective friend, raised an eyebrow and stepped closer, asking the red-haired boy, "And what is it to you, exactly?"

The red-haired boy seemed unfazed by Draco's probing question. He grinned, extending a hand in greeting. "Ron Weasley," he introduced himself.

Seeing that Harry and Draco weren't shaking his hand, Ron's ears flushed red with embarrassment as he realized how rude his earlier question had been. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, clearly regretting his words.

"Sorry," Ron mumbled, his voice tinged with genuine remorse. "That was very insensitive of me."

Harry, ever understanding and forgiving, offered a small smile. "It's okay," he replied. "I understand. It's just... it's still a sore subject."

To change the subject and ease the tension, Ron asked, "So, are you both going to Hogwarts this year?"

Harry's mood seemed to brighten at the mention of Hogwarts. "Yes," he said with enthusiasm, "we're both first years."

Ron's eyes widened in surprise. "First years? That's great!" Then he couldn't help but comment, "It's just a bit strange to see a Malfoy and a Potter being friendly."

Draco, never one to hold back, snapped back with a touch of annoyance, "Harry and I have been friends since we were babies. Harry's mother is my godmother."

Harry chuckled at Draco's outburst. "Yeah," he said, "Draco tends to get that reaction every time people see us together."

Ron quickly raised his arms defensively. "Hey, I don't have a problem with your friendship," he said quickly. "It's just... well, I'm surprised, that's all."

"Which house do you think you'll end up in?" Harry asked, a touch of excitement in his voice.

Ron grinned confidently. "Gryffindor, of course," he replied. "My family has been in Gryffindor for generations. It's practically tradition!"

Harry nodded in understanding. "Yeah, my parents and my godfather were all Gryffindors too," he said. "But you know, I wouldn't mind ending up in Slytherin."

Ron's eyes widened, and he hesitated for a moment before saying, "Slytherin? But, Harry, isn't that where all the dark wizards come from?"

Harry frowned, his thoughts drifting to his Uncle Regulus, Aunt Lucius, and Aunt Cissy, who were all Slytherins. "Well, not all Slytherins are bad," he replied thoughtfully. "My family has Slytherins too."

Draco, who had been listening silently, took a step closer to Ron and narrowed his eyes. "Watch your mouth, Weasley," he warned. "All my family are Slytherins. My parents and my Uncle Regulus played a crucial role in ending Voldemort's."

Harry chimed in, his voice firm, "Exactly. It's not fair to judge someone solely based on their house. I wouldn't mind being in Slytherin, especially if Draco's there."

Ron blinked at the strong defense Harry and Draco put up for Slytherin. He realized that perhaps he had made a hasty judgment. "Sorry," he muttered, looking somewhat sheepish. "I guess I just heard stories, you know? But if you guys say it's not all bad, then I'll keep an open mind."

The sun dipped below the horizon as Diagon Alley started to quiet down, and a cool breeze began to sweep through the streets. Harry, Ron, and Draco found themselves at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, enjoying their favorite magical treats.

Lily approached Harry, her tone gentle but firm. "Harry, Draco, it's getting late. We need to go," she said, her green eyes filled with a motherly concern.

Ron looked disappointed but hopeful. "Will I see you guys on the train next week?" he asked Harry and Draco.

Draco nodded, his trademark confidence returning. "Of course, Weasley."

Harry smiled warmly at Ron. "Definitely. We'll make sure to find you on the Hogwarts Express."

As they made their way back to Potter Manor, Draco couldn't help but suggest, "Hey, why don't we go to the Quidditch pitch? It's been ages since we played."

But just as they approached the garden's door, James' voice called out. "Harry, Draco, come here for a moment. We need to talk."

Harry exchanged a quick glance with Draco, and they reluctantly made their way to where James was waiting.

"Boys, you're not in trouble," he began, his eyes warm with understanding. "I just wanted to talk about something important before you go to Hogwarts."

Together, they made their way upstairs and entered Hermione's room, causing Draco and Harry to exchange curious glances. The room held an aura of nostalgia and melancholy, filled with memories of a beloved sister.

James turned around in the room, his eyes shining as he looked at the various objects and decorations that adorned the space. He cleared his throat before speaking again, his voice carrying a heavy emotion.

"I know that both of you were here yesterday," he said, his words catching Harry off guard. He opened his mouth to apologize but was silenced by his father, who raised a hand.

James continued, his voice soft but unwavering. "Harry, I should've spoken to you earlier about your older sister, and I'm terribly sorry for not doing so."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why haven't you talked to me about her before?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and hurt.

James' voice wavered, thick with emotion. "It hurt too much, Harry," he admitted, his gaze distant. "It still hurts."

Draco, ever the inquisitive one, couldn't help himself. "What was her name?" he asked.

"Hermione Cassiopeia Potter," came a voice from the doorway. Sirius stood there, looking into the room with tears in his eyes.

Harry's eyes widened, and Draco's mouth gaped open. "Cassiopeia?" Draco exclaimed. "That's a Black family tradition, naming children after stars or constellations."

Sirius nodded, his gaze softening as he explained, "You're right. Your Grandmother Dorea was a Black, and James wanted to honor that side of the family."

Harry's curiosity grew, and he asked, "What was she like?"

Sirius chuckled softly, his eyes shining with fond memories. "Hermione was perfect in every way," he said. "She used to love Queen and would jam to their music during bath time with me."

James added, his voice filled with warmth, "You used to follow Hermione around wherever she went, Harry. She adored you."

But the revelation didn't stop there. James continued, "You know, Hermione's godparents were your Uncle Regulus and your Aunt Cissy."

James walked around the room, a mixture of nostalgia and sadness in his eyes as he approached the crib, "This room is all that I have left."

Sirius, noticing James's somber mood, picked up a fluffy bunny from the crib and turned to the boys. He introduced it with a smile, "This little guy is Artie."

Harry and Draco exchanged curious glances, and Harry asked, "Artie? Why Artie?"

James's voice was gentle as he explained, "Hermione named the bunny after your Uncle Regulus."

Draco frowned, clearly confused. "But our uncle's name is Regulus, not Artie."

Sirius chuckled warmly at Draco's confusion. "Well," he said, "my little brother's full name is Regulus Arcturus Black. Reggie would call Hermione Cassie, and in return, Hermione would call Reggie Artie."

"So, it was something special between them," Harry mused, his voice filled with understanding.

Sirius nodded, his eyes reflecting the fond memories. "Exactly," he said. "Hermione wouldn't let anyone call her Cassie unless it was her beloved uncle and godfather. They shared a unique bond."

Harry looked up at his father, a mix of curiosity and confusion in his eyes. "Why are you telling me all of this now?" he asked.

James sighed, his gaze turning somber as he met Harry's eyes. "I've noticed how Ollivander called you 'the Boy Who Lived' today," he began. "And how that name seems to have become a common reference for you. Calling you 'the Boy Who Lived' at the expense of your sister kidnapping is cruel for you. For her."

Sirius crouched down to Harry's level, his eyes filled with concern and understanding. "Harry," he began, "now that you're going to Hogwarts, you need to be prepared. People are going to talk. They're going to approach you, wanting to know about your sister, about our family. That's why we're having this conversation."

He continued, his voice soft but firm, "Your sister was an incredible person, Harry, and people deserve to know that. They deserve to know her name and the impact she had on all our lives."

As they spoke, Draco noticed the plushie snake in James' hand, and piped up with curiosity. "Uncle James," he asked, "what House do you think Hermione would have been in?"

Sirius let out a hearty laugh at the sight of the plushie snake and ruffled Draco's hair affectionately. "Ah, that snake," he said, a fond smile on his face. "It was a Yule present from your Uncle Regulus to Hermione before Harry's parents and sister went into hiding."

"Regulus had a sense of humor"James, still holding the plushie snake, smiled softly as he joined the conversation. "When he became Hermione's godfather, he jokingly said that she might end up in Slytherin. After all, both of her godparents were in Slytherin."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "But Dad," he exclaimed, "you're a Gryffindor through and throrough."

Sirius ruffled Harry's hair affectionately and grinned. "Your dad loved Hermione so much that he wouldn't have cared which house she ended up in," he said. "He would've bought every Slytherin clothing imaginable, painted the whole manor green and silver, and cheered for Slytherin during Quidditch matches if that meant Hermione would be happy."