A/N Idea from the above art by sadfishkid (on Tumblr)

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Harry Potter, for most of his life, believed there was nothing special about him. He knew that his parents were killed in a car crash (or at least, that's what he was told) and that same car crash gave him the lightning-bolt scar etched onto his forehead. He knew from when his aunt and uncle had had a bit too much wine that he looked almost exactly like his mother, with his freckles and wavy, bright red hair that covered the mark on his head. Aunt Petunia used to tell him when he was younger that his hair was the reason he was so "abnormal" (at least, until Dudley had brought home a friend with red hair too). He also knew that he had that "nasty Potter's eyes", to quote her directly. The only other thing he knew about his parents were their names; Lily and James Potter.

Harry James Potter had red hair, brown eyes, a lightning bolt scar, dead parents and slept in the cupboard under the stairs, and, for the longest time, he believed that that was all there was to him. But then the letters started arriving and he was given Dudley's small second bedroom that held all his old toys (a lot were broken). Then he was whisked off to the hut on the rock where he met Hagrid and learnt that his parents weren't good-for-nothings, as the Dursleys often had him believe, but rather Lily and James Potter, who were brilliant in everything. He learnt that they weren't killed in a car crash but rather by a dark wizard (who he later learnt was called Voldemort) and he, Harry James Potter, a boy who was nothing special, was one of the most famous wizards for defeating him. His scar was from where Voldemort's curse had hit him and rebounded and suddenly, Harry James Potter was no longer ordinary.

Hagrid told him about Hogwarts, the wizarding school who had been sending all the letters and gave Harry one to read at last. Then he gladly went with Hagrid as he was whisked off to the Leaky Cauldron, where everyone wanted to shake his hand, and off they went to Diagon Alley. Harry learnt that he had a small fortune to his name and watched as Hagrid removed a suspiciously small package from a heavily guarded vault.

They then continued going around and buying Harry's school supplies and Hagrid patiently answered Harry's many, many questions about the wizarding world and the likes. Harry, never having been allowed to ask questions before, took full advantage of this.

Hagrid had just left to calm his stomach from the Gringotts cart ride with something from the Leaky Cauldron, leaving the boy to walk into Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions on his own. As he entered, a friendly-looking witch hurried over, and Harry figured that this must be Madam Malkin herself.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she asked, just as Harry opened his mouth to speak. Glad that he didn't have to say anything, as he really didn't know what on earth he was supposed to be getting, Harry just nodded. "Got the lot here – another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

She led him over to the back of the shop and Harry spotted a pale boy with slicked blond hair who was currently being fitted by another witch. Harry stood on the stool Madam Malkin gestured to, which happened to be right next to the boy, and then she started her work.

The boy barely gave Harry a glance. "Hullo," he said, "Hogwarts too?"

Harry replied with a short "Yes," too busy looking at the boy with interest. Harry, having only attended school with his cousin Dudley who bullied anyone that so much as looked twice at Harry, had never really had a person his own age to chat with.

As the strange boy continued to talk, Harry noticed that he had a drawling voice, almost as if though everything bored him. The boy explained that his father was buying books and his mother was looking at wands. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first-years can't have their own. I think I'll bully Father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Harry barely stopped a frown from spreading over his face when he was reminded of Dudley. It was such a shame, really, because the boy, although rather stuck-up and demanding, was the only source of semi-decent conversation Harry's had in years, aside from Hagrid and that snake from the zoo.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy asked, attempting to bring Harry back into the conversation after noticing he was rather silent.

"No," was Harry's short reply.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," Harry said again, curious as to what Quidditch could be. He figured it was a wizarding sport, or perhaps a game.

"I do – Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Funny though, I thought even though the Weasleys were poor, they'd at least have the decency to let their kids play Quidditch. Wait till my father hears about this!" The boy said all of this in a rather disgusted tone, finally looking at Harry. His expression was one of disdain as he took in Harry's flaming red hair and Dudley's huge old clothes.

"I'm sorry," Harry began, truly and utterly confused now, "but what do you mean Weasley?"

"Don't play dumb. Red hair and hand-me-down clothes? My father told me all the Weasleys have that unnatural hair colour, freckles and more children than they can afford." The boy said nastily, shooting a pointed look at Harry's clothes. "The whole lot of them – blood traitors! My father told me so. And judging by your muggle clothing, it seems they also have appalling bad taste."

It was then that Harry figured that the Weasleys must be a wizarding family of some sort. A wizarding family with the same sort of appearance as Harry, if what the boy said was to be relied on.

"I think you have me confused with someone else," Harry said slowly. "My parents are dead." The boy didn't go red, but a pink tinge appeared in his pale cheeks. "Besides, they weren't Weasleys, that's the one thing I'm sure about."

"Oh, sorry," the boy looked ever so slightly embarrassed, before something registered in his mind. "What do you mean, that's the one thing you're sure about? Surely your new guardians would have told you about them."

"Ah, well," Harry's cheeks heated up as he mumbled "my aunt and uncle didn't like the fact that my parents had magic very much. Or at all, really."

A scowl settled across the boy's face. "Muggles, are they? That explains a lot. Who were your parents, anyway?"

"Uh, yeah," Harry replied, not liking the way the other spat the word muggles, however, he assumed, from what Harry's told him, he supposed the boy had a reason for saying it like that. "My parents were Lily and James Potter."

At this, the boy's eyes widened. "You're joking. You can't be Harry Potter! Prove it!" he demanded, in a disbelieving tone.

"How do I prove it?" Harry questioned, absolutely bewildered. How did people prove these things? "I don't have my birth certificate on me."

"Birth certificate?" Draco frowned. "What does that matter? If you're really Harry Potter, then all you have to do is show me your scar!"

"Scar? Oh you mean –" Harry, still not used to this treatment, brushed his hair out of the way so the boy could see his lightning bolt scar. Madam Malkin had stopped to check this for herself. His robes would take forever, at this rate.

"You are!" The boy cried happily. "I'm Malfoy. Draco, Malfoy." Draco seemed to expect Harry to be impressed by this, as he looked rather confident. He held out his hand but Harry just stared at it. Draco, who didn't seem one for patience, let out a huff of annoyance before grabbing Harry's and shaking it. "Why didn't you tell me straight away that you were Harry Potter?"

"You didn't exactly give me a chance, now, did you?" Harry snapped, before flushing and mumbling out an apology.

Draco, at least, had the decency to look sheepish. Harry watched as the boy shuffling about uncomfortably on his stool, opening and closing his mouth several times before finally saying, "I- I didn't mean- well, you see, Father's always told me that purebloods were to only associate with other purebloods and well, the Weasley family doesn't exactly do that, and –" he broke himself off. Harry got the impression that he was trying to apologise (or something along those lines) and that Draco wasn't exactly used to doing so. "You're halfblood, I forgot, I shouldn't have said that. Besides, you're Harry Potter so I guess there isn't anything wrong with halfbloods. It's the muggleborns you have to be cautious around." This was all said very fast and Harry had a hard time keeping up.

There was a stunned silence for a few seconds. "Forgot to ask earlier, do you know what house you'll be in?" Draco asked, eager to change the subject.

"No," Harry replied, once again feeling down-heartened by his lack of knowledge. He wasn't even sure what the boy meant by house, let alone which one he was supposed to be in.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been – imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?" Harry must have looked as confused as he felt, because Draco immediately backtracked, remembering what Harry had let slip about his limited information earlier. "Just so you know, there are four houses in Hogwarts. There's Slytherin, the cunning ones, Gryffindor, the ones who brainlessly rush into things, Ravenclaw, the smart ones, and Hufflepuff, the fool-hardy idiots who don't know the difference between a quill and a broomstick."

"I bet I'm Hufflepuff," Harry muttered glumly.

"Nonsense, you defeated the Dark Lord when you were a baby! You're a Potter, too. That ought to count for something, I just know you'll be Slytherin." Harry still didn't feel convinced. "Oh, cheer up. By the way, I know you said you're relatives don't like the wizarding world too much, but what is with those clothes? You're most likely the sole heir of the Potter fortune, one of the oldest wizarding families alive, alongside Malfoy, of course. Surely you can afford some decent clothing."

"I- well, they, uh... My aunt and uncle don't really want to waste their money on me, so they give me my cousin Dudley's old clothes. I don't exactly want them, but it's all I have. And besides, I don't want to spend all the money my parents left me on clothes when the booklist is so long." Harry was staring intently at his lap and fidgeting with his fingers as he said this.

Draco processed this information and realised that Harry was implying that he paid for all his school books and materials with his own money, which was rather odd since Draco had never know a parent (or guardian) to force their child to pay for school supplies before.

"Are they poor?" He asked tentatively. Or, as tentatively as Draco Malfoy could get, in any case.

Harry scoffed. "Nope. If you saw how much presents Dudley gets for his birthday and Christmas, you'd think the Dursleys' were the richest family alive."

"Then why..?" Draco prompted when it didn't seem Harry was going to say anymore.

"They prefer pretending I don't exist. What I said about them not liking my parents' magic goes the same for me. They're not fond of any kind of magic," Harry said in a rush. Draco swore that he heard an "or me" at the end there.

Although rather furious with the muggles and having quite a lot he wanted to say, Draco let the subject drop.

"I say, look at that man!" Draco exclaimed suddenly, nodding towards the front window. Hagrid was standing there and grinned at Harry before tapping his wrist, indicating that he had been standing there for a while now. To Harry's great delight, he saw Hagrid had two large ice-cream cones, topped with brightly coloured sprinkles.

"That's Hagrid. Since the Dursleys would never come, he's helping me buy my Hogwarts stuff. He works as the gamekeeper at Hogwarts." Harry was rather pleased to know something Draco didn't.

Draco once again had a disdained look on his face, but this time, he refrained himself from saying anything nasty. "I've heard of him." From the short reply, Harry felt that the things Draco had heard weren't exactly pleasant.

"Hagrid's brilliant! Before you, he was the only one who told me anything about Hogwarts and what to expect." Noticing that Draco still had that expression, Harry continued on, determined to convince Malfoy that Hagrid was nothing but good. "You should've seen what he did to Dudley when he caught him eating my cake Hagrid brought me! It was the first time anyone's ever stood up for me."

At this, Draco's frown finally let up. He shot a curious glance at Harry and took in his small frame, big clothes and broken glasses. "Well, there's no other choice," he spoke, capturing Harry's attention. "Let's be friends." Draco was determined to protect Harry Potter from that point onwards, and if it meant going against his father's beliefs, then so be it. (Of course, he wasn't going to tell Lucius Malfoy about Harry, because Draco's a – or will be a – Slytherin, thank you very much, and unlike Gryffindors, he was going to be smart about this. When he made the decision to protect Harry that meant from his father, too.)

Harry nodded and was positively beaming by then, but before he could say anything else, Madam Malkin piped up, "That's you done, my dear." Harry gave one last smile at his first friend ever before hopping down from the footstool and leaving the shop.

"See you at Hogwarts!" Harry called over his shoulder, just in time to see Draco grin too.

"What's got yeh so happy?" Hagrid asked, smiling at Harry's sudden happiness.

"Nothing," Harry hummed, before gladly accepting the ice-cream he was handed. "Just excited for Hogwarts." They continued on with the list of supplies, stopping to buy parchment and quills. Harry was once again fascinated by all of the magical inventions (he had spotted a bottle of ink that changed colour as you wrote) and was going over the conversation with Draco in his mind when he remembered something. "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know – not knowin' about Quidditch!" Hagrid had seemed truly offended by this, much like Draco had. Harry said as much.

"The boy I was talking to in Madam Malkin's said pretty much the same thing," Harry began. He told Hagrid all about the pale boy called Draco who had a drawling voice, grey-blue eyes, and blond hair, smooth and slicked back. He also told him about being mistaken for a Weasley and making his first friend (conveniently leaving out a lot of the negative things Draco had said, because the boy did apologise... kind of, and besides, Harry really wanted Hagrid to like him too.)

"Knew yeh'd be makin' friends in no time! It's true though, yeh do look like a Weasley! Not tha' there's anything wrong with 'em. In fact, I knew Molly and Arthur from Hogwarts. O' course, I know their twin sons, Fred and George, well enough from all the times they've tried ter sneak into the Forbidden Forest. Troublesome pair, tha' lot." Hagrid chuckled. Harry quite liked the sound of the twins, they seemed like a rather amusing duo.

"So what is Quidditch?"

"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like – like football in the Muggle world." Hagrid explained, then went on to say the equipment used in it. (Harry, personally, was incredibly interested in the flying broomsticks, but Hagrid told him he wasn't allowed one until next year.)

"And what are the school houses? What are they for?" Harry asked. He knew from Draco's explanation that there were four, but that didn't explain what they did or why they were so important.

"There's four school houses. You have Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. They're like, ah, they're the group o' people you share a dorm and eat with. Yer parents were both Gryffindor, so I figure yer'll find yer way in there too."

Harry didn't get a chance to ask any more questions, as they soon arrived in a shop called Flourish and Blotts. From that point onwards, the few remaining daylight hours were spent going from shop to shop, buying books, cauldrons and supplies for Harry's future Potions lessons.

Once they were done there, Hagrid checked the school list again. "Just yer wand left – oh yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

Harry blushed and went to tell Hagrid that he needn't get him anything, but Hagrid cut him off.

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at – an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer post an' everythin'."

About half an hour later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium; Harry carrying a large birdcage with a beautiful snowy owl that was currently fast asleep in it. "Thanks, Hagrid!" Harry said for the umpteenth time, staring at the bird in wonder. Something for him! This was the most Harry's ever received in his life, and in one day too!

"Don' mention it," Hagrid said gruffly, hiding a pleased smile. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now – only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

–

Hagrid and Harry were eating hamburgers at the nearest muggle train station, waiting for the train that would take Harry back to the Dursleys until the start of term. Ollivanders had been a dusty, run-down-looking shop, filled with wands in shoe boxes lining the walls in stacks that reminded Harry of Flourish and Blotts. It was rather dim in there. Ollivander himself had been a peculiar fellow that made Harry feel a bit uncomfortable at times, though Harry didn't mind too much as he had learnt more about his parents.

He was once again told that he looked almost exactly like Lily with James' eyes, but he was far more interested in learning what kind of wands his parents had had.

After the introductions were over, he started to wave wands about. He felt rather stupid when nothing happened and stupider still as the rejected wands piled up. (Imagine his surprise when he found out that the wand that had "chosen him", as Mr Ollivander would have put it, shared the same core with Voldemort's wand.)

"You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet," Hagrid spoke up, breaking Harry's train of thought.

"Everyone thinks I'm special," Harry said at last. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Draco, Mr Ollivander... but I don't even know anything about magic! How can they expect great things when I can't even remember what I'm famous for? I don't know what happened when Vol- sorry – I mean, the night my parents died."

"Don' you worry, Harry. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts – I did – still do, 'smatter of fact." Hagrid reassured him, leaning across the table to do so.

The train arrived then, and Harry was sad to see Hagrid go, but, as Hagrid reminded him, they would see each other again soon enough. He was handed his ticket for Hogwarts and told that if there were any problems with the Dursleys, all he had to do was send Hagrid a letter using his owl, which he had yet to name.

Harry left London with a smile on his face and his mood only brightened when the Dursleys ignored him almost completely instead of dishing out chores, like they usually would. In fact, they seemed rather afraid of Harry; Dudley ran out of any room Harry was in and Vernon refrained from yelling constantly. And if telling the Dursleys that he wasn't allowed to do magic outside of school slipped Harry's mind, well, what was the harm in that?

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A/N This fic updates every week on Sundays, 7am Australian Eastern Standard Time. There will be no romantic drarry in the first year, but in later years there will be.

You can also find it on my AO3 (insertfandomjoke) and Tumblr (andystanberg).