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Chapter Text

As per usual, Harry Potter’s day began with a visit to Diagon Alley, as it had done for the past eight years, ever since he had moved here with his godfather. Whilst some people might have appreciated the routine, Harry found it very tiresome and longed for something interesting to happen, like a giant beanstalk growing in the middle of the town square or maybe a dragon flying over the roof of the Leaky Cauldron.

But of course, that sort of thing only ever happened in the stories that he so eagerly devoured, and as Harry approached the town, he only saw the usual hustle and bustle of the market. The baker with the same old bread and rolls to sell, the butcher with his alarmingly vicious-looking knife, the town physician hobbling around on her rounds…

“Good morning Mr Potter!”

“Morning Mr Ollivander!” Harry greeted the elderly carpenter.

“Where are you off to then, hmm?”

“Flourish and Blotts. I just finished the most wonderful story! It’s about a wizard who travels to a far-off land with a suitcase full of magical creatures -”

"Yes, yes that’s nice. Don’t go stuffing your head with too much nonsense now.”

Harry decided that he really didn’t like Mr Ollivander all that much as he carried on walking. Didn’t anyone here appreciate a good story?

Puzzling over this, Harry was oblivious to the strange looks and mutters that followed him around the town.

"What a strange boy.”

“Head in the clouds that one.”

“Shame he doesn’t fit in really. Pretty little thing.”

“Very odd young man…”

There wasn’t really a precise thing that set Harry apart from the residents of Diagon Alley. Perhaps it was the lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead, or maybe the fact that he always had his nose in a book, or possibly just because whenever Harry was around, strange things seemed to happen.

Such as that time he’d accidentally set a boa constrictor on the butcher’s boy from the shop that sold exotic pets. Harry couldn’t explain exactly how it had happened - he’d only been looking at it, saying how horrible it must be, trapped in a cage all day with only stupid people rattling the lock for company, when the bars had simply… well, melted away he supposed.

“Good morning Potter!” Madam Pince waved cheerfully from her precarious perch on top of the ladder as he entered Flourish and Blotts.

“Hello!” Harry smiled up at her. “I’ve come to return the book I borrowed.”

“My my, finished it already have you?”

“Well, I just couldn’t put it down. Do you have anything new in?”

“Not since yesterday, I’m afraid.”

“That’s alright,” Harry went over to the shelves and ran his finger along each spine until he found the one he was looking for. “Can I take this one out please?”

Madam Pince chuckled. “You must have read that one ten times already!”

“It’s my favourite though! Far off places, daring swordfights, magic spells, a prince in disguise -”

“Well, if you love it so much I don’t see why you shouldn’t just have it.”

“Oh!” Harry blushed. “No, I couldn’t possibly -”

“No no, I insist!”

“Well, thank you very much!” Harry grinned, and with the book safely in his hands, he retreated back onto the streets.

Little did Harry know that someone else was watching.

“That’s the one?” Crabbe wheezed in disbelief, straining under the weight of the antique mirror he was holding up for Malfoy to admire himself in. “The inventor’s godson?”

“Yes. Do you have a problem with that?” Malfoy snapped.

“Well no, not as such, but -”

“Harry Potter,” Malfoy preened. “Is the only person in this village who can match my own beauty. That makes him the best! And don’t I deserve the best?” He snatched Crabbe up by the collar, shoving his sneering face up close.

“Of course you do! You’re the best hunter in the whole world! No beast alive stands a chance against you - and no person for that matter!” Crabbe gabbled, going very purple in the face.

“Exactly,” Malfoy dropped him back on the ground, coughing and spluttering. “And that is why I am going to marry him - just you watch!”

As Malfoy strode off down the street, Crabbe couldn't help but feel rather jealous of the way every girl practically swooned at the sight of him. But if you wanted to stay on Malfoy’s better side, thoughts like that weren’t very helpful, so he promptly squashed them and scurried after him.

Chasing after Harry was easier said than done. Even with his nose buried a book, he weaved his way through Diagon Alley with ease, dodging the owl droppings that rained down from the roof of Eeylop's Emporium and jumping nimbly over boxes. Malfoy on the other hand, had quite a job to keep up with him.

He’d just gotten to his favourite part - the heroine had met her Prince Charming, but she wouldn’t discover it was him until Chapter Three - when the book was ripped out of his hands and a smarmy voice was in his ear. “Hello Harry.”

“Good morning Malfoy,” Harry said politely, trying not to cower away in disgust. “Could I have my book back please?”

“How can you read this? There’s no pictures!” Malfoy sniffed.

“Well you see, some people have brains. For thinking.” Harry muttered under his breath.

“Anyway,” Malfoy tossed the book over his shoulder where it landed in a muddy puddle. At least, Harry hoped it was mud. “Shouldn’t a nice young man like you be concentrating on more important things?”

“Such as?” he asked lightly, kneeling down to try and retrieve it.

Malfoy blocked his path, baring his teeth in a wolfish manner. “Me.”

“Right…” Harry reached round and deftly snatched up the book, cleaning it with his sleeve as he got to his feet.

“Come on Harry. Get that pretty little head of yours out of that book and let’s have a drink together at the Leaky. I can show you my trophies!”

“Maybe some other time,” Harry said quickly. “I need to go help Sirius with, err, something.”

Crabbe, who had just caught up with them, started snorting like a pig. “That crazy guy! He’s as mad as a March Hare!” Malfoy was sniggering too.

“Don’t talk about Sirius like that!” Harry rounded on them.

“Yes Crabbe! Don’t talk about his godfather like that!” Malfoy smacked Crabbe around the head.

“Sirius is not crazy. He’s a genius!”

As if on cue, there was a loud bang! and smoke came billowing out of the windows of 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry began running towards it and Crabbe snorted with laughter again. Still sniggering, Malfoy promptly hit him again.

---

“Sirius?” Harry coughed, squinting to try and see through the thick veil of smoke that hung in the air.

“Ah! Harry,” came the reply. “Hang on a sec…”

There was another crash, several curses, and then a great swishing sound and the smoke began to clear, enough for Harry to see his godfather wafting it away with a newspaper.

“What happened?”

"Oh, the blasted engine’s playing up again,” Sirius sighed. “I’m telling you Harry, I’m just about ready to give up on this crackpot pile of junk.”

Ever since he had found an old motorbike lying abandoned on the side of the path, it had been Sirius’ dream to repair and improve it, so that it not only travelled like a normal motorbike but flew up in the air as well. Privately, Harry had his doubts about it, but he did his best to encourage his godfather whenever things weren’t going to plan.

“You always say that.” he said soothingly.

“I mean it this time!” Sirius kicked the motorbike very hard and then hopped around the workshop yowling for about a minute.

“Maybe you just need some more time,” Harry suggested. “The fair isn’t until next week, you’ve got a few more days.”

“Hm, I suppose, I suppose.”

But his heart clearly wasn’t in it.

“I believe you can do it,” Harry said stubbornly. “Don’t listen to what all the villagers say - especially Malfoy.”

Sirius laughed. “As much of a prat as ever is he?”

"Ugh, he’s awful! So full of himself, strutting around town, convinced that having a half-decent face gives him the right to do anything! No brains at all, and he’s a complete coward, he’ll go screaming and crying to daddy if anything doesn’t go his way! He’s even worse than -”

Harry’s voice seized up and a troubled look came over his face. He finished his impassioned speech in what was almost a whisper “... than - than the Dursleys.”

“Hey. You’re safe now, OK?” Sirius placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You never have to go back and live with those awful people again. You’ve got me now. And if they ever try and drag you back there then I’ll lock them in the oven and make them into sausages. That cousin of yours is basically a pig in a wig isn’t he?”

Harry giggled weakly. “I know. I mean, I’d never want to go back there obviously, it’s just… well, there must be more than this, right? I don’t want to live here forever, just cooped up in the house and Malfoy being a prat.”

“Don’t you worry about that. My invention will be the start of a new life for us, I’m telling you. We can move to the city, do a bit of travelling if you like - there’s a famous library in the north with over a thousand books in it!”

“But you’ve given up on it.” Harry said slyly.

“Give up? Is this my godson speaking? I never give up!”

And Sirius promptly set to work on his beloved motorbike again, with Harry helping out by passing him various screwdrivers and holding things into place as he hammered in screws and nails. They worked long and hard until the day was nearly over and the sky was turning pink.

"Right then!” Sirius rubbed his dirty hands together. “I think it’s time for a test run!”

“... in here?” Harry said doubtfully.

“Why not?”

“Sirius, I don’t think -”

But before he could finish, Sirius had mounted the bike and started the engines up with a great roar. It shot forwards, crashing through the door and out of the house.

"Sirius!”

Harry chased after the bike, but as he ran outside, he realised his godfather wasn’t in danger. In contrast, he was whooping loudly as the bike circled the house once, twice, three times and finally launched itself into the sky. It made several loop-the-loops around the chimney and rocketed towards the clouds.

Harry couldn’t believe his eyes.

“You did it!” he yelled, punching the air in triumph.

High above him, Sirius’ cackles of glee could be heard for miles around.

---

And so, several days later, Harry Potter waved his godfather off to the fair, bursting with pride and blissfully unaware of what was to come.