Chapter Text
The Slytherin Prince
Chapter 1
The Wandering Boy
Harry Potter was four years old when it happened. He was a sweet child, terribly small for his age with rather large eyes that he constantly squinted as the world around him was hazy. His hair was raven black and always messy, and his limbs short and somewhat frail from malnutrition. Not that Harry knew. He only had an idea that Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were not treating him well, but that was only because of how good they are to his cousin Dudley, who at the same age as Harry have already shown signs of pudge around his stomach and arms.
Today was a rather windy and cold day. It was around two in the afternoon and Harry was lost. He didn’t know he was lost, he though his family was playing a game of hide and seek that he didn’t know about. He was in London, which was a huge place, and wandered around. The fact to him that this was all a game was the only thing keeping young Harry from crying as he explored the blurry surroundings. The city was so big to the four-year-old, and his legs were getting tired very quickly. I want to find them so I can eat, he thought to himself. He turned a corner only to see more buildings and people he did not know. Harry kept walking, his eyes looking everywhere at the blurry scenery, squinting so they could focus. He was completely lost, turning corners whenever he could, running through the alleyways, and walking through the open streets.
Tears soon came and Harry cried as he walked around. Grown-ups looked at him weirdly but no one stopped to help him or tried to direct him to a police officer. Not that Harry really noticed their looks, his blurry eyes, and tears blocking everything so that he barely saw shapes in front of him.
Harry walked and the shapes of the buildings morphed together, becoming a blurry liquid of white and beige before changing as he ran down one final alleyway, and everything became smaller. At least smaller than the huge buildings Harry saw previously. And they were different colors too! Harry could see blobs of reds and blues and oranges and purples and lilacs all mixed together, pushing against one another as they moved down the street, at the end of which was something very large and very, very white.
Harry hiccupped and wiped his tears away. The street was very crowded with adults and Harry spun around slowly, seeing that everyone was dressed in funny clothes. Nobody was wearing shirts and pants or suits or anything normal. Instead, they had what looked like cloaks in funny colors and people were even wearing funny hats slouched one way or another. Harry gave a little giggle at their clothes, squinting to see them clearly. They were giving him odd looks because he kept squinting at them. He ignored them and walked down the street; his fear momentarily forgotten as he looked around this strange new place.
Harry wasn’t particularly paying attention to where he was going as he looked around.
Just like everyone else, the people on the street only gave Harry a look before moving on. Harry still felt terribly sad not knowing where the Dursleys were, however, it was worth it to the young boy. He was in someplace new and colorful! And even though his stomach growled angrily, he didn’t eat at all today, Harry could ignore it because of the pretty hazy colors. That was until, when he reached the end of the street, he walked straight into a man and fell to the ground.
Tears welled up and he cried again. “I’m—I’m sorry,” he said quickly, throwing his arms over his head and balled up instinctively. He heard an annoyed huffed and the man in front of him knelt down.
“Cease your crying,” the man said shortly. Harry jumped and hiccupped, forcing himself to stop. He wiped his eyes harshly until they hurt and blinked several times at the man, squinting to see him clearly.
The man had long platinum hair along with silver eyes and a sharp nose. His mouth was frowning as he examined Harry. He looked tall, taller than other adults, and he was dressed in a black cloak and had a walking cane. He sneered at Harry’s squinting, “Stop your squinting you insolent child.”
“I’m sorry!” Harry squeaked again, jumping once more. He moved back and stopped squinting, the man turning blurry again. “But I need to squint to see.”
“Well obviously you need glasses, boy,” the man said in a short voice. “Where are your parents?”
Harry felt very awkward. He compacted into himself and said in a small voice, “They’re dead.”
“Excuse me?”
Harry flinched and glanced up at the man. “They’re dead,” he said a little louder.
“Then who do you live with?” the man asked, standing tall to look around. “Who here is incompetent enough to leave their child in the middle of Diagon Alley?”
Harry sniffled, “Is that where we are?” he asked.
“Obviously, child,” he said. “Where else would we be? You did not answer my question as well.”
“I—I live with my Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia,” Harry stuttered. “They say I’m special, so I have to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs—but it’s fine! There’s plenty of room and the spiders don’t bite much! Please don’t tell!”
The man made an annoyed huffed. “What is your name, boy?” he asked.
“Harry Potter.”
The man froze. He stared at Harry and for a moment Harry thought that he would hurt him like Uncle Vernon does when he does something bad. The boy looked down at his shoes and waited for the man to make up his mind. He wouldn’t blame the man honestly. Harry looked bad, really bad. His clothes were old and stinky, he didn’t have a bath since last Friday, and he kept squinting at people! Finally, the man sighed, and Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. He flinched and looked up to see the man’s blurry image. He knew he was looking down at him because he could see the face facing him. “Come along then Harry,” he said. “I might as well get you glasses and a meal before deciding what to do with you.”
“Y-Yes, sir,” Harry said softly.
The man led Harry down the street. Harry looked up and hesitated before reaching up and grabbing his hand, holding on tightly as though he was afraid that the man would let go of him. The two walked and Harry looked around feeling much safer now that he found an adult. For a second he thought he saw something floating but shrugged as the man stopped and turned to a store that had a giant pair of glasses. They walked in.
Harry squinted and looked around. The walls were filled with glasses frames of every shape and size and color imaginable. There were a few waiting chairs along with a giant chair in the center that looked very intimidating to Harry. In the back was a counter with a very old cash register. They only took a couple steps inside when Harry let out a little scream. There was a box that flew from the left wall and opened, and a pair of glasses floated out and settled into the wall. “It flew!”
“Of course it flew, child,” the man sneered. “Have you never saw magic before?”
“Magic doesn’t exist,” Harry said a little robotically, “Uncle Vernon told me that over and over again.”
“I’m guessing he’s a muggle, to think you were living with disgusting muggles—bah,” the man shook his head and Harry felt sacredly sad. He did something that the man disapproved of, he just knew it.
“I’m sorry, please don’t leave me,” Harry said. “I no see my family since morning.”
“It is ‘I did not see my family since this morning,’ Harry, and no. We are here for glasses, not for child abandonment,” the man said. He tapped his cane twice on the floor.
A woman walked into the storefront from a door in the back. “Hello,” she said in a friendly tone. “Are you here for new glasses?”
“Yes, the boy here,” the man said, pushing Harry forward.
The woman nodded and bent down. Harry saw that she had a very pretty face and was wearing purple robes with stars and she had glasses that had stars that moved in the frame. He stared at it. “Hello, and what is your name?” she asked.
“Harry,” Harry said.
“Well Harry, why don’t you go sit in that big comfy chair over there, and I will talk with your father for a moment,” she smiled and stood up. “Mr. …”
“Malfoy,” the man named Mr. Malfoy said.
“Right, Mr. Malfoy,” the woman nodded. “I’m Doctor Smith. Does your son have any previous prescriptions or is this his first pair?”
“This is his first,” Mr. Malfoy said. The woman nodded and pulled out a weird stick. She gave it a wave and Harry gasped as things started to move around. A great big machine whirled towards the big chair that Harry sat on.
Doctor Smith turned to Harry and smiled, “Just relax dear, we are just going to take a picture of your eyes is all first, okay?” Harry nodded and did his best to relax. The big machine floated towards Harry and a chinrest sized up to him. The machine pressed against his face, slightly pinching his nose. Harry looked into it and saw a very fuzzy picture. “Tell me when the picture is clear Harry,” Doctor Smith said. Harry nodded and focused on the fuzzy picture. He watched as it focused slowly until it became perfectly clear! It was a red house against green hills with a blue sky and white clouds. “I can see it!” Harry said.
“Good. Keep staring at it. Keep your eyes nice and big,” the doctor ordered. Harry followed and there was a bright flash that lasted for only a second. Harry blinked rapidly as the machine moved away from him, a large photo developing from it that the doctor took. She examined it for a few moments, nodding as she turned to Mr. Malfoy. “At his age, stuff like this is usually hereditary, so it is nothing to worry about. Are there any others in your family who wear glasses?”
“My father,” Mr. Malfoy said, although Harry knew that that did not apply to him. He wondered who in his family had glasses.
The doctor wrote something down, nodding. “Very well,” she said and turned to Harry. She took out her strange stick again and gave it a wave. A second old black machine with many lens floated to Harry and fitted itself against his face. The chair spun around, and he faced the wall with the counter where there was a poster with letters. The Doctor tapped the machine once more and told Harry, “Say stop when you can see the first three lines of letters.” The lens started fitting themselves. Going in front of Harry for a second, as though waiting for him to confirm them. Harry looked ahead at the white blurb in front of him. Sometimes the lenses made it less blurry and he could see some black, but he still couldn’t make it out. He continued staring as the lens fixed themselves until he said, “Stop!” excitedly, seeing the letters clearly.
“Good job Harry, now can you please read them for me,” the doctor said.
Harry stopped, his cheeks blushing. He looked at the letters, but his brain couldn’t decode them. He knew his alphabet, he was four after all, but he didn’t really was able to connect his alphabet to the letters in front of him. “Harry?” the doctor said patiently. “Can you please tell me the letters.”
“I can’t read,” Harry said shamefully. “I’m sorry.”
“How old is your son, again?”
“Harry is only four,” Mr. Malfoy said.
“Ah—my bad,” the woman said. She waved her strange stick and the letters changed to shapes! Harry knew his shapes. “Do you know your shapes, Harry?” she asked.
“Of course! There are a square and circle on the first line! A uh triangle, square, circle, circle, square on the second and triangle, triangle, square, square, rectangle, circle on the third!” Harry said, proud of himself of remembering his shapes.
“Very good Harry!” Doctor Smith said. “Now, you’re going to tell me when the bottom three, that’s the rest of the chart, is clear to you, okay?”
“Okay,” Harry said in his small voice. Once more the lens started fixing themselves, the whole chart becoming blurry once more for a moment before dancing between stages of clearness and blurriness. The lens moved faster now, not even giving Harry a chance to tell them to stop. It was as though they were guessing which combination will let Harry see, as though thinking by themselves. They stopped suddenly and Harry gave a gasp as he could see clearly. “Can you see them?” the doctor asked.
“Yes,” Harry said and told the doctor the shapes on the chart. She wrote more stuff down on her notepad and the machine went away. Blurriness returned to Harry and he frowned. The doctor helped Harry off the chair and escorted him to the counter with the old cash register. She sat behind it while Harry sat in front of it, Mr. Malfoy joining them. There was a mirror near them aimed at Harry. The woman waved her stick and several glasses flew towards them, landing in front of them. “Now these are just for trying on Harry,” she said. “I want you to try them out and pick a frame that you like a lot, okay?”
“Okay,” Harry nodded. He looked at the glasses in front of him and bit his lip. “I can try them on?” he asked.
“Of course,” the woman nodded.
Harry took a breath and looked at the display in front of them. They were all rather colorful with bold reds and blues and even a green pair. Harry didn’t like any of them. They were too attention-drawing. He bit his lip and looked at the doctor. “Do you have other colors?” he asked.
“What do you prefer?”
“Black.”
The woman chuckled and waved her stick again. Black framed glasses made their way towards them. Harry tried them on one by one, looking at himself in the mirror as though he was trying to make up his mind. Some were too thick while others were too large or too small. In the end, Harry settled on a pair of round frames that were not too big or too small. He showed her the glasses and the doctor smiled. “I will be right back,” she said and left to the back.
“Harry,” Mr. Malfoy said immediately when she was gone. “I would like to know some things. One of them being why it is you cannot read.”
“I’m four,” Harry answered simply.
“Even then you should know some letters,” Mr. Malfoy argued. “Besides that, every time we talked you flinched several times. And you sleep in a cupboard.”
“Is that wrong?” Harry asked sadly. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing,” Mr. Malfoy said shortly. “You are completely sure that you do not know anything about magic?”
“Uncle Vernon told me it doesn’t exist,” Harry said. “I don’t know how it happened, but Dudley had this toy I really wanted so it flew to me! Uncle Vernon got really angry at me for that and locked me in the cupboard. He forgot to feed me breakfast and lunch.”
“When was this?”
“Last night after dinner,” Harry answered. Mr. Malfoy frowned. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry for saying sorry!” Harry said quickly.
Mr. Malfoy gave a huff and shook his head. “Of all the days to go deal with that bloody contract in Gringotts it had to be today,” he muttered to himself. “Harry, you are not in trouble, however after lunch, I would like to speak to you with my wife, Narcissa. You are clearly not being taken care of properly.”
“I’m not?” Harry questioned.
“No! Of course not, but we will talk about this later, the doctor is coming back,” Mr. Malfoy said. Harry looked up to see the blurry woman walking back, holding a small black leather case.
“Here you are young Harry,” she said cheerfully. “Open it up, there we go.” She placed the case in front of Harry who opened it gently. It was his glasses. He reached slowly and opened the glasses, slipping them on his head.
“Ahh!” Harry said, looking around. He could see! Everything looked so clear to him. A giant grin appeared on his face. He looked at Mr. Malfoy and said, “You have silver eyes!”
“Yes, I do,” Mr. Malfoy said. He turned to the woman, “How much?”
“Twenty Galleons for the exam and glasses,” she said. “Along with creating a profile for Harry.”
“Send me a copy of it at my manor,” Mr. Malfoy said. He pulled out twenty gold coins and stood up. “Harry.”
Harry jumped and looked at the lady. “Thank you very much,” he said politely. He always remembered his manners.
She smiled, “It was a pleasure,” she said. “Have a good day Harry, Mr. Malfoy.”
“If you do not mind, I wish to use your fireplace,” Mr. Malfoy said.
“It’s in the back, just make sure to not get ash on my floor please,” the doctor said as he bent to pick up a magazine. Mr. Malfoy nodded and started to walk, Harry running after him.
Harry didn’t know why they needed a fireplace; it was already kind of hot outside. He was surprised to see how big the fireplace is. The opening was huge enough to have Mr. Malfoy stand in it. “Harry, stand close to me,” Mr. Malfoy said, pulling Harry into the fireplace. For a moment Harry panicked that the fire would turn on instantly and they would cook, but that went away quickly. Mr. Malfoy has been nothing but kind to him. Why would he cook Harry now? And with him in the fireplace too! Harry went to stand with Mr. Malfoy in the fireplace and looked around curiously. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Keep your mouth shut,” Mr. Malfoy said, “you do not want to inhale any soot.” He threw down something and green flames flared up as he shouted, “Malfoy Manor!” The fire did not burn and Harry felt like he was falling and spinning, as the doctor’s office disappeared in a flash. There were flashes of other rooms that appeared and were gone in a second. Harry closed his eyes and grimaced for what felt like minutes before their feet felt the solid ground and Mr. Malfoy pulled him out. Harry opened his eyes hesitantly before blinking them open.
They were somewhere else!
It was a large room that was filled with the fanciest things Harry has ever seen. The walls were light blue with gold trim. Large windows broke the walls, allowing sunlight to fill the room, filtering through light blue curtains that gave the light that pushed through it a blue hue. There were pictures of many strange things: centaurs running in a forest, men, and women in weird clothing making things fly and portraits who seemed to move! Harry stopped and stared at one painting in particular. It was of an older man who looked like Mr. Malfoy from his sharp nose to his platinum blonde hair. The man in the painting stared back at Harry. His face scowled and Harry jumped when the man in the painting shouted, “What are you looking at boy? Go away!”
“Mr. Malfoy!” Harry screamed, running away. “The painting talked! The painting scary!”
Mr. Malfoy sighed and shook his head, “Useless muggles—move along Harry, I rather you eat now instead of freaking out about the world.”
Harry made a worrying sound and nodded. He glanced back at the scary painting of the scary man and rushed to follow Mr. Malfoy who did not slow down or wait for Harry as he walked out of the room.
They went into a long hallway filled with more paintings and windows, the upper walls painted the same light blue with a gold trimming and wooden lower half. Harry kept his eyes forward as he followed Mr. Malfoy. They walked towards the end of the hallway before Mr. Malfoy stopped in front of a door and opened it. “We will be eating in the smaller dining room,” he said and walked in. Harry followed.
It was a small room that was still bigger than the Dursley’s kitchen. The table in the center was big enough to seat eight people and was already prepared with empty plates and glasses. The chairs looked very fancy in Harry’s mind, a dark smooth wood that Harry was almost scared to touch or sit in, but his stomach’s growling dashed any fear and Harry moved to sit in a chair.
Mr. Malfoy sat at the head of the table and tapped his walking stick three times against the floor. Food magically appeared and Harry gasped. “This looks good!” he smiled, “Did your wife make all this?”
“Narcissa does not know how to cook,” Mr. Malfoy said, “our servants made them.” He snapped his fingers and Harry jumped once more, he noticed that today was a very jumpy day, as a creature appeared.
The creature was Harry’s height with very shriveled skin and large tennis ball eyes and was wearing only a potato sack with an M on it. Its ears and nose were very long and when it bent down, its nose pressed against the floor. “How can Dobby be serving Master Malfoy?” the creature asked.
“Tell my wife to come into the smaller dining room, we have a guest,” Mr. Malfoy ordered.
The creature bowed again and disappeared with a cracking noise. Harry stared at the place where the creature was and looked up at Mr. Malfoy.
“House-elves,” Mr. Malfoy said. “They are our servants. They cook and clean for us. It is house-elves who made our meal.”
“Oh,” Harry said shortly. He didn’t know how to feel about that. He looked at his plate and started eating quickly, scared that as soon as it appeared, the food would disappear. It was all delicious and Harry kept eating and eating, eating the most that he ever has. Mr. Malfoy watched him with a disapproving look and Harry stopped. “Sorry,” he said and pushed the plate away.
“Do you have no manners whatsoever, Mr. Potter?” Mr. Malfoy asked.
“But the food would disappear—”
“No it will not,” Mr. Malfoy said.
“Oh.” Harry’s cheeks went pink. He looked in front of him and his stomach rumbled angrily. “Do you have any milk or apple juice?”
Mr. Malfoy snapped his fingers and a glass appeared. Harry took it hesitantly and took a sip, his eyes widening at the taste of milk, and quickly gulped the glass down. It refilled itself and Harry drank again.
Harry kept eating and drinking as though it was his final meal when the door opened, and a woman walked in. She was tall and very slender with black hair kept in a bun. She had a rather strict look about her as she looked from her husband to Harry. Harry thought she would yell at him and immediately stopped eating.
“Lucius, who is our guest?” she asked.
“This, Narcissa, is Harry Potter,” Mr. Malfoy said.
“Harry Potter!” Mrs. Malfoy gasped. She clutched her chest tightly and looked as though she was about to faint. She looked between her husband and the boy, her eyes going wild between disbelief and worry. Harry did not like the look and started to curl into himself again, the food completely forgotten. Mrs. Malfoy continued to stare at Harry, as though figuring out what to do with him. She looked at Harry for such a long time Harry thought that she was trying to drill holes into him. He sniffled and started to cry silently, burying his head into his arms. The Malfoy matriarch say this and looked at Lucius, “Where was he?” she asked simply.
“Wandering around London lost and blind, I had to get the boy glasses just so he would stop squinting at me,” Mr. Malfoy said. “It seems that Mr. Potter was living with Muggles, and they exactly were not giving him the best of care. He knows nothing about magic and who he is.”
“Really?” Mrs. Malfoy said, frowning. She looked at Harry once more. “And what are we going to do with him? You are not seriously thinking of sending him back to these muggles will you?”
“Send him back to live in a cupboard? Certainly not,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Why would I waste such an opportunity to not only advance ourselves but to show at how kind we are. No, I think we shall adopt him.”