elfflame (elfflame) wrote in elfflame_fics, @ 2009-09-27 11:50:00 |
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Entry tags: | fandom: harry potter, genre: drama, length: chaptered, mc: harry, rating: pg, sc: draco |
Finding Harry - Harry, Draco, PG
Title: Finding Harry
Author: elfflame
Rating: PG
Summary: Harry disappears the night of the attack on his parents' home. (Pre HBP canon)
Disclaimer: This story not intended to infringe, no money is being made. The characters and places do not belong to me. I’m just borrowing them for a bit.
A/N: Notes with the Prologue
The next day, Orion tried to forget about the “truth” and just focus on his first day of classes. At least he had all his classes with Draco, so he wouldn’t be on his own. Their first class was very daunting. Transfiguration with the witch who had led them into the sorting, Professor McGonagall. She was quite stern, and frowned around at them as she spoke.
“I expect your full concentration in this class. Transfiguration is a difficult art to learn, and you will not truly understand its full value until well into your sixth or seventh year. Despite this, I expect everyone in this class to perform to the best of their ability, and to ask for help as soon as it is needed, rather than after it is already too late.”
Then she passed out a pack of matchsticks, and showed the class how to turn them into needles and back. Draco was able to make his pointy, and Orion’s even went a bit grey, but they were the best in the class. The only other student who was able to do much to their matchstick was Blaise, and his spent more time spinning around on the desk from him pushing at it with his wand.
Herbology was next, and the Slytherins were bored to tears as a group as Professor Sprout explained just how important plants were in magic, and how they would be learning all about magical species of plants, how to tend to them and how to prepare them and storing them once they were picked.
Vince got into a bit of trouble when he wandered off to the back of the greenhouse while the Professor was speaking, and prodded at several of the plants. Unluckily enough for him, one of them prodded back, and Sprout ended up having to dismiss the class and escort him up to the Hospital wing with a bloody lip.
Unfortunately, this meant that Orion had almost two hours with nothing to occupy him. He found himself back in his dorm, looking down at the letter Dumbledore had given him.
Should he respond? If he did, what did he want to say? How could he possibly say what he wanted to the man who had raised him as a son for ten years? Draco entered the dorm, and plopped down on Orion’s bed.
“Vince is okay. He’s already back. Some of the other Slytherins are thinking of throwing a party for him for getting us out of Herbology so quick. What do you think, Ori?”
“Not right now, Drake.”
“Are you still on about that letter? I told you, it doesn’t matter what that crackpot says. You’re my brother, no matter what.”
Orion felt his throat tighten. “But they both say it, Draco. Dumbledore and Father. Maybe I might agree with you if it was just Dumbledore, but why would father admit to something like that?”
“Dumbledore probably faked the note. We know he was at the estate! He probably stole some of father’s parchment and wrote the letter himself.”
“Well, I should write him, and find out. Maybe I’ll skip lunch and work on it.”
“You sure? I’m starving. I can’t imagine that you’re not hungry.”
“I’m not, Draco. Leave me alone. I’ll be fine.”
“All right. If you say so. Will I see you at lunch, or will you still be brooding?”
Orion’s eyes snapped to his brother, and he snorted. “I’m not brooding.”
“Oh? What would you call it, then?”
Orion narrowed his eyes. “Leave it alone, already. I’ll see you next class, okay?”
Draco sighed. “You gonna be okay?”
“I’ll be fine, Draco. Go have fun. I need to think, and I can’t do it with you pestering me!”
Draco stood, uncertain for a moment, then nodded and left.
Orion rolled over onto his back. Now that Draco was gone, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be alone. But he had to think about it sometime, didn’t he? Perhaps he should write to father. That would give him something to focus on, at least.
He got up and moved to his desk, pulling out a piece of parchment with a small M insignia in the left-hand corner, and his favourite bottle of green ink. Then he paused. What, exactly should he say? He started several times.
Father,Dumbledore told me the oddest thing…
No, just wrong.I was wondering. Am I adopted?
God, he couldn’t say that!Father, were you in Godric’s Hollow the night of Halloween in 1981?
Ha! Like he’d answer that.
Father, Dumbledore gave me a letter that I would like to confirm with you.
Still not perfect, but it was something.
He said it was from you, and after reading it, I need to know if its contents are accurate. Dumbledore says that I am not a Malfoy. He says…
But what did Dumbledore say? He certainly hadn’t said much. He had said that he was Harry Potter, but did Orion truly believe that?
He says that I am not who you have always told me I am. If this letter that he has given me is, in fact from you…
Again, Orion was at a loss. What did he want? What could possibly make any of this better, if that letter was true?
He crumpled up the first sheet, threw it aside, and started again.
Father,
Dumbledore told me and Draco something that I need to tell you about. He has told me some things that I find hard to believe. And then he gave me a letter that he claimed was from you. Did you give him a letter to give to me, father? I am having trouble believing the letter is from you.
If you would answer this quickly, I would appreciate it.
Your son,
Orion Malfoy
There. That should do it. Right?
Before Orion could change his mind again, he hurried to the owlery and sent Saiph off with the letter.
Feeling sure that he would hear from his father within a day, and knowing that he had already missed lunch, he hurried off to find his next class. Charms. Draco was already there, and when he saw Orion, he scooted over so his brother could sit down. Charms was interesting. Professor Flitwick showed them several examples of what charms spells could do, and they looked to Orion like they would actually be quite easy to learn.
Orion and Draco were looking quite forward to their next class. They figured they were probably the best prepared students at Hogwarts for the class. What they hadn’t counted on was being more prepared than the teacher. Professor Quirrell was a jittering, nervous wreck. When he got to Draco and Orion’s names while he was calling roll, he nearly fainted. Draco giggled, but Orion was horrified. How could a weakling like that teach them anything?
At dinner, Orion received an owl, and thinking that it was his father’s reply, despite the fact that it wasn’t his owl, he quickly ripped it open. It wasn’t from his father, though. It was from the headmaster.
Dear Misters Malfoy,
I hope that your first day at school went well. I have arranged your first “get together” for tonight. I hope you will both be up to attending. To keep these meetings from interfering with your schoolwork, I will limit them to only two a week, one on Monday, and one on Friday. If you find that this will not work, please see myself or Professor Snape about this, and we will arrange a new meeting time more in line with your schedule. Snape will escort you tonight, and from then on, you are expected to find your way on your own.
Fondly,
Professor Albus Dumbledore
Orion looked up at his brother, horrified.
Draco, in the midst of chewing a mouthful, glanced at him curiously. “What?”
“I’d forgotten…”
“Forgotten what?” Orion shoved the letter at him. He scanned the letter. “Tonight?” he whined. “But Vince’s party is tonight! We even bribed a sixth-year to go to Hogsmeade and get us some butterbeer! We can’t miss the party.” Then he looked up at Orion’s face. He was white.
Draco wanted to rant now. This really wasn’t fair. Orion couldn’t be The Boy Who Disappeared. He just couldn’t. Right? Why were they doing this to him? He pulled himself closer to his brother, and wrapped an arm around him. “Don’t worry, Ori. I’m sure it won’t take us long. And then we can come in when the party’s in full swing, and I’m sure there will still be a few bottles for us…”
Orion nodded, weakly. At least he didn’t have to go alone. That would have been a thousand times worse.
Snape arrived in the Slytherin common room at a quarter to eight, scowl firmly in place. “Follow me.” He turned, and strode down the corridor, and the boys had to run to keep up. They followed him up a flight of stairs, and then down another passage, till they arrived at a small door in an otherwise empty corridor. Snape snapped “Friendship,” a sneer quite evident in his voice, then opened the door, and waved the boys in. It was a small lounge, not much bigger than their dorm room, filled with a couple of comfy looking couches, and a large table surrounded by eight chairs. There was also a fireplace that had apparently been recently lit.
But there were no students there at all. The boys turned to look at Snape.
“I brought you here early so I could explain to you exactly what the headmaster expects. You are to stay here at least one hour. You will be meeting each time with two students from the other houses, though once you begin to make friends,” here Snape sneered again at the word, “you will be able to invite them to return the next time. The headmaster is hoping that you will make friends from each of the houses, and though he will not specifically be checking on you, you should be aware that he knows everything that goes on in this castle. That means: no sneaking out early, no snogging,” here the boys made faces at each other. Why would they want to snog with anyone? “And most importantly, no fighting. Are we clear?”
The boys nodded.
“I believe that tonight, you will be meeting a couple of boys from Gryffindor. I do apologize for this, but the headmaster insisted. You will be pleased to know, at least, that they are purebloods, so you don’t have to worry about that yet.” He cleared his throat, and seemed to be waiting for them to ask questions. When none were forthcoming, he spoke one last time. “The password is something you should keep to yourselves, and those you trust implicitly. You should change it frequently, but not too often. If you have no questions, then, I think I will depart before the, ah, Gryffindors get here…” And with that, he turned on his heel once more, and strode from the room.
The boys looked at each other, then sat down to wait. Orion stared off into space, obviously worried, and Draco was just about to try to comfort him, when two boys came through the still-opened door. Two very familiar boys. Weasley and Longbottom. Draco narrowed his eyes. “Weasley. Longbottom.”
Weasley stood in the doorway. He obviously wasn’t much happier about being here. “Malfoys…” his voice was flat.
Orion looked up, horrified. Dumbledore couldn’t have possibly chosen worse. A blood-traitor and a near-squib? What was he thinking? Then he heard Draco speak again.
“Well, come in, Weasley, Longbottom. We don’t bite. Not the first time, anyway.” The smirk was firmly in place.
Longbottom squeaked, but entered the room, sitting as far from the brothers as possible. Weasley followed behind, slower, his eyes never leaving Draco’s.
“So,” Draco drawled. “What are we supposed to talk about? Your mum popping out any more babies, Weasley?”
Weasley snarled, “Why, your dad run out of food again?”
Draco stepped towards Weasley, but Orion restrained him. “Don’t you talk about our dad, Weasley. You don’t know him.” Orion turned to his brother. “And you heard what Snape said. No fighting.”
Draco’s eyes snapped with rage. “You heard what he said, Ori. He insulted father. Are you just going to let that stand?”
“You insulted his mother first, Draco. Let it go.” Then he turned back to Weasley. Just because he’d defended him, didn’t exactly mean he liked him. What the heck was he supposed to say to someone he had no common ground with? Perhaps…Quidditch? “You into Quidditch, Weasley?” he asked warily.
“Yeah. Why?”
“Well, we can’t sit here and glare at each other for an hour. Unless you can think of something else to talk about, we might as well talk about Quidditch.”
Weasley’s jaw set, but he plunked down on the couch next to Longbottom. “Fine. What’s your team?”
The conversation took off from there. Draco and Weasley got into an argument, but this time with a great deal less hostility, about which team was better, the Wasps or the Cannons, with Draco swearing up and down that no one in their right mind could ever think that the Wasps were truly second-string, while Weasley swore that someday soon, the Cannons’ day would come. This soon evolved into an agreement that the no-first-years-on-the-Quidditch-team rule was preposterous, which then became a plot to find a way to sneak their own brooms onto campus so that they could at least keep in practice for their second year, when they were all, aside from Longbottom, determined to get onto their respective teams.
Longbottom was quiet through most of this, though he did mention owning a Ludo Bagman signed robe that he had gotten from a cousin once for Christmas.
Orion was shocked to realize that their hour was well up, and that they actually needed to hurry to get back to their common rooms before curfew began. They said their goodbyes, and after Weasley and Longbottom disappeared, they reset the lock on the door, and hurried off to the dungeons. If all of their “meetings” went like that, Orion decided, perhaps this might not be so bad after all.