Chapter Text
"Hi, what’s your name?"
Harry looked up and found two big gray eyes staring back at him, flecked with the lightest blue he had ever seen. The boy was blonde, but not like the normal blondes you see walking down the street. His hair looked almost white, and he was pale, not a deathly pale, but a beautiful, snowy kind of pale.
"Harry," he said, giving a sad smile.
The boy took notice of his expression. Feeling self-conscious, Harry looked back down and made sure his messy hair completely covered his forehead.
"Why are you all alone and not swimming at the beach? It’s pretty hot out here," the boy said, completely dropping the 'r' in pretty. He was definitely British, just like Harry.
Dudley had recently come up with the great idea that he wanted a vacation. Of course, his fat uncle and annoying aunt agreed to whatever their dear ‘baby’ demanded. At first, they planned to leave Harry behind at Privet Drive. They were entirely prepared to abandon him, but at the last minute, their plans changed.
Harry didn’t even know why they bothered bringing him. He would have much rather stayed behind, not that he could ever call Privet Drive home.
They ended up traveling to a hotel in France right near the beach. The moment they arrived, Aunt Petunia had turned to him, her voice lethal and her eyes narrowing into a nasty glare.
"If you even bother to put a foot in that water, I will lock you in the cupboard longer than ever. Do you understand, boy?"
Harry had simply nodded without a care. It wasn’t like he even knew how to swim anyway.
So, here he sat, watching everyone else laugh, swim, and splash each other while he messed around blindly in the sand.
"I don’t know how to swim," Harry admitted softly.
"Oh, I’m sorry," the boy replied. "Well, aren’t your parents planning on teaching you?"
Harry froze at the question. His parents. His parents who had died in a car accident, according to Aunt Petunia.
"Well, they died when I was a baby," Harry murmured. "I’m just here with my... my aunt, uncle, and cousin."
The boy's eyes widened in sympathy. "I’m sorry. You quite remind me of someone."
"Hm," Harry managed.
After that day, the two boys started hanging out every afternoon. Their meetings gladly went completely unnoticed by Harry's so-called 'family,' and he preferred it that way. He soon learned the boy's name was Draco Malfoy.
"Like the constellation?" Harry asked, offering an amused smile.
Draco grinned proudly. "Yes, just like the constellation."
As the days passed, they grew incredibly close, eventually reaching the point where they would exchange tight hugs whenever they had to part ways. Secretly, Harry decided he wanted to be with Draco forever.
One afternoon, Harry stole a white rose from the hotel's garden and nervously handed it over. "You’re as beautiful as this flower," he whispered. In response, Draco blushed deeply and gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek.
Harry wasn’t scared to admit to himself that he had a massive crush on Draco. When he finally gathered the courage to confess his feelings, Draco wrapped him in a giant hug and shouted, "I DO TOO, HAWWY!"
Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.
Harry woke up with a start to the piercing screams of his aunt, his breath loud and agitated. That dream again
His mind immediately drifted back to that final day in France.
When Harry told Draco he had to go back home, it was the very first time he had ever seen the blonde boy cry. The sight had completely broken his heart.
Draco had begged him to stay. When Harry insisted that he couldn't, Draco’s sadness turned to a sharp, defensive anger.
Stepping backward, Draco had cried out, "Fine! I don’t need you anyway! I don't even like the way you dress!"
That outburst broke Harry's young heart even more. Hurt rapidly turned into anger. He thought they had something special. How could Draco dump him like that?
"FINE!" Harry had yelled back. "I don’t need you either! You’re just like all those rich, spoiled kids who think they are better than everyone else! How could I ever think you were different?"
Even though he saw the devastating hurt flash across Draco’s face, Harry had turned on his heel and walked away.
Of course, he hadn’t meant a single word of it.
It had been eight long years since Harry last saw his beautiful blonde beach friend. By now, they were both fourteen years old. Yet, Harry still remembered him as clearly as if it had been yesterday.
He often wondered where Draco was, if their paths would ever cross again, and it physically hurt to imagine Draco with anyone else.
Surprisingly, Harry no longer slept in the cupboard under the stairs.
The change happened after he received the first of those strange letters. He had almost managed to open it, but Uncle Vernon was too quick and snatched it away.
Afterward, all Harry heard was his uncle pacing and screaming frantically, "They know! They know he sleeps in a cupboard, Petunia dear!"
Who were they? And why did these letters keep coming every single year since he turned eleven? Harry had been furious when Uncle Vernon confiscated them. They were addressed to him, nobody else; they literally had his name on the front.
Right after the cupboard incident, Harry was ordered to pack up his meager belongings. From then on, Aunt Petunia announced he would be sleeping in Dudley’s extra toy room.
Dudley had thrown a tantrum, but Harry didn’t care; he liked this room much better. Too bad his paranoid aunt and uncle immediately installed heavy metal bars on his window. God, he wanted to run away.
It really didn’t help that he missed Draco every single day.
Harry smoothed down his oversized clothes and prepared to go downstairs. The worst part of his day was always dealing with the Dursleys.
Today was Harry's fourteenth birthday, a day that should have been celebrated. Instead, he was forced into the kitchen to cook breakfast for his spoiled family.
Suddenly, a loud, heavy knock rattled the front door.
The Dursleys froze. Aunt Petunia frantically smoothed down her ugly skirt and horrendous hair, Dudley paused with a cookie stuffed in his mouth, and Uncle Vernon glared toward the hallway, wondering who on earth it could be.
They certainly weren’t expecting visitors.
Harry slid out of the kitchen, hiding behind a corner and sneaking his head out to watch the front door.
When Uncle Vernon finally swung it open, a massive, towering man was standing on the doorstep. He was easily twice the size of Uncle Vernon, and intensely hairy. His beard was long, wild, and untamed.
"Who are you, fatty?" Dudley demanded, earning an amused, pitying look from the giant.
"I am here for Harry Potter," the man announced, his booming voice echoing through the hall.
Hearing his name, Harry jumped out from his hiding spot. The sudden movement caught the giant's attention, and a warm smile broke through the massive beard. "Ah, hi there, lad! Ye look just like ye father."
A synchronized gasp echoed from Vernon and Petunia.
"NO! NO!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, his face turning purple. "YOU MUST BE ONE OF THOSE FREAKS! OUT! GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE I CALL THE POLICE!"
"Haha! I wonder what the police would say about you abusing a young lad, huh?" the large man countered effortlessly.
At his words, the remaining color drained entirely from his aunt and uncle's faces.
Harry then noticed that the giant was holding a brightly colored box. Stepping past the terrified Dursleys, the man opened it to reveal a bright pink cake with light green icing that read: Happy Birthday Harry.
It was the first time in fourteen years that Harry had ever received a birthday cake. He had watched his cousin get them every single year, but he had always been left with nothing.
A sudden wave of emotion made his eyes tear up. He looked up at the giant, fiercely blinking back the moisture.
Wait, wait, wait, Harry scolded himself. There is no time for crying. For God's sake, you're fourteen.
"Um, I’m sorry," Harry stammered, clearing his throat. "But who are you?"
The man offered a gentle smile. "Rubeus Hagrid, and I came to tell you that ye'r a wizard, Harry."
Harry blanked for a second before bursting out laughing. "What? Now, wait a minute..." His grin quickly faded, however, when he saw the utter seriousness etched into Hagrid's face, paired with the terrified sob escaping Aunt Petunia's lips."What? No offense, but... eh... are you on drugs?" Harry asked blankly.
"I can prove it, but ye’ll have to come with me," Hagrid said, casting a warning glance back at the trembling Dursleys. He reached into his coat and handed Harry an envelope.
Harry’s eyes sparkled as his fingers brushed the thick parchment. It was exactly like the letters he had been denied for years. He slowly slid it open, finally about to discover what his uncle had feared so deeply.
At the top of the letter was a large, elegant crest that read Hogwarts. The crest was split into four sections: one showed a lion, next to it was a serpent, beneath the serpent sat a raven, and next to the raven was a badger. A massive, stylized letter 'H' dominated the very center.
To: Mr. Harry Potter
The Bedroom (Formerly Dudley’s Toy Room)
4, Privet Drive Little Whinging, Surrey
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Students shall be required to report to the Chamber of Reception upon arrival.
Please ensure that—
Harry stopped reading right there. He braced himself, waiting for someone to burst out laughing. This had to be an incredibly elaborate, cruel joke.
The Dursleys must have planned this whole thing just to humiliate him and get a reaction out of him. They totally did.