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Most people, muggleborns in particular, were of the opinion that wizard-folk never ventured out into the muggle world. While this may be true of most of the middle classes, it was not similarly true for either of the upper and lower classes of wizarding society.
It was a day in early February 1982 that saw Lady Narcissa Malfoy, wife of Lord Lucius Malfoy and daughter of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, exiting the Leaky Cauldron. With her was her young son, Draco, in a masterfully crafted pushchair. They were on their way to their thrice weekly walk through Hyde Park after visiting Bennet’s Toy Emporium. Narcissa liked to take Draco to see some of the newest displays of enchanted toys and attractions for young witches and wizards.
There was still a chill in the air, but warming charms kept both nice and comfortable. It was a nice, bright day, despite being slightly overcast. They’d hardly made it ten steps from the pub before Narcissa was accosted by a rather shrill, unpleasant sort of woman. This woman had marched up to her and thrust a squalling infant into her arms. “Take it! It’s one of your types,” she’d sneered. “I’ll not have it- it… tainting my dear Diddy-kins a moment longer with it’s freakishness!”
Startled, Narcissa clutched the child to her, bouncing it in her arms and rubbing its back to try sooth it. She stared at the woman with wide eyes, her words slowly registering. She was taken aback at the hostility in the woman’s eyes, aimed entirely at the infant crying into Narcissa’s shoulder.
The woman was turning away from them when she shrieked, swiping frantically at her arm. When she stared down at the ground, Narcissa looked as well. She caught sight of a spider crawling on the sidewalk before the woman viciously stomped on it. She hissed “Freaks.” at them before storming away.
Narcissa blinked, watching her go. Killing the spider was an unfortunate omen for the detestable woman. The child in her arms had settled down, whimpering and tugging on the edge of her cloak. Looking down at it, she took a fortifying breath before taking hold of Draco’s pushchair and directing it back into the Cauldron. Their walk, it seemed, was to be postponed.
It didn’t take an Arithmnancy Master to figure out the child was the orphaned son of the late Lord and Lady Potter. And it only took a generous sum of galleons to have guardianship of the poor boy transferred to the Malfoys. Especially given that his non-magical guardian had voluntarily (and publicly) surrendered him directly into Narcissa’s care. It also happened that the child obviously suffered from malnutrition and neglect. A diagnostic assessment at St. Mungo’s had revealed just how badly it had been.
The assessment had also unveiled a nasty bit of necromantic magic centered on the unnaturally shaped scar on his forehead. After guardianship was officially transferred, Lucius employed a team of healers and curse breakers to remove what ended up being a soul shard from the child. Afterward, it was no trouble at all to have the scar healed as though it had never been there in the first place.
As for how little Harry settled into life as a ward of the Malfoys, it took some time for both children to get used to the arrangement. Draco was suddenly faced with vying for his parents’ attention, which made the usually sweet tempered child cross. And Harry was anxious and easily frightened. Lucius and Narcissa had just begun to wonder if the two would ever be able to get along when, shortly after Draco’s second birthday, they found the two cuddled together in the playroom, Draco curled protectively around Harry.
—30—