They landed in a wide corridor covered in portraits from various centuries. Dinky lead them down the corridor. "Misters will be staying in a room guarded by a portrait of a very old vampire that was friends with Mr. Slytherin grandson! It's a very nice room, Dinky made sure it was perfect for Misters!"

"Thank you Dinky," Harry spoke, "is the portrait of Sir Abriam Murcy?"

Dinky looked back at Harry, a wide, watery smile on her face. "Yes Sirs Potter! You are very kind, you do not need to thank Dinky!"

"Do you frequently make friends with portraits, Potter?" Draco asked, looking down at Harry with a raised eyebrow. Harry shrugged.

"They don't get to talk much, so they like to have a conversation once in awhile. They appreciate it a lot," Harry said, picking at the skin around his fingernails. "Just... it's nice to be nice. Not that you'd really care about that, Malfoy."

Draco shrugged. "You're not wrong, Potter. I don't think many people have earned my pleasantries."

Dinky brought them to where the corridor branched off into a large alcove, scarce of paintings except for one. It held an older gentlemen, with a strong posture, hard eyes and an unwelcoming face. Sharp canine teeth poked out of his mouth, his black hair starkly contrasting his pale skin.

"Hello again, Dinky," The portrait greeted, staring at them. "And you two will be staying in my quarters, I presume?"

Harry walked in front of Dinky and Draco, who had stopped a few feet from the portrait. "Hi Sir Murcy. You never told me you were an entrance portrait."

"Why, Hadrian, is that you? What happened to you, boy?" Sir Murcy leaned forward, concerned.

Harry smiled at the concern. "Little accident in potions, is all. I'll be okay."

"Blasted subject. I never liked potions, pointless practice! Always caused too many lost limbs and dead animals! You couldn't even eat them after because they were too ruined by the stupid things!" Sir Murcy exclaimed, "I do hope you fix yourself soon, Hadrian. Stay away from potions, they never did anyone any good!" Sir Murcy crossed his arms, nose in the air. Harry was reminded a bit of Draco at the pose.

"I'll do my best," Harry told him, smiling. The portrait nodded, and looked at Draco.

"And what's this fellow doing here? You look like a no-good Malfoy, always managing to create the nastiest potions. Were you the cause of Hadrian's accident, boy? What is your name?" He spat, red eyes narrowed harshly.

"Draco Malfoy, sir." Draco took a step back, worried about the portrait to his rooms hating him. He'd known him for two minutes and already knew not to put it past him to let Draco spend the night outside because of who he was. Well... that was fine, he supposed. He'd go and sleep in the Slytherin dorms. Without his clothes, or toiletries, and come back to a scolding from Dumbledore.

Great.

Sir Murcy growled. "Of course, you blasted purebloods. Never did any of my kind any good, and I doubt that's changed at all. I'll let you know, you say one blasted word of my blood and you'll never see the light of day again!"

Harry stepped in front of Draco, holding his hands up in a placating motion while Dinky trembled off to the side. "Please, Sir Murcy, I'll make sure he won't say anything bad about vampires. He's nice, the family has really changed the past few centuries! Draco's father now advocates for creatures rights, and had been trying to get vampires a better status in the ministry for years now!" Harry explained hastily. Draco furrowed his eyebrows, but nodded along. Such a thought was preposterous, but if it kept him in a warm bed he would tolerate it.

After a moment, Sir Murcy nodded. "Continue your father's work, boy. Creatures of all sorts need rights." Sir Murcy watched him until Draco nodded. "Do not ruin my quarters, boys. The password is Wattlebird. Don't forget it." Sir Murcy opened his portrait, allowing the two boys to step aside.

"Dinky will be back with supper for Misters Potter and Malfoy," Dinky said, before popping away.

They walked in, absorbing the cozy room. It seemed to be a common room of sorts, with a large fireplace, chairs couches and tables in hues of browns and whites. Draco heard the portrait close behind him, walking further in. Harry went down a small hallway, which opened into a humble kitchen with simple necessities. A door in the hallway lead to a bathroom, Draco found.

"Why'd the portrait call you Hadrian?" Draco asked, raising his voice so Harry could hear him from the kitchen.

"He insists that 'Harry' isn't a proper name, so he calls me that cause he likes it. I stopped trying to correct him a while ago." Harry called back. Draco walked into the common room, seeing Harry eating a sandwich from a stack on a plate that had popped up on the table by the fireplace.

Draco grabbed one as well, looking around as he ate. In the corner, a spiral staircase went up from the common room, which Draco presumed lead to their bedrooms. He went up, Harry not far behind him. On the right side, a room in tones of dark greens and blacks, a four-poster bed and his trunk at the bottom of the bed. A desk and a chair in the corner, and a bathroom that connected.

Draco noticed a piece of parchment on his trunk, folded and addressed to him. Harry wasn't with him anymore, so he opened it.

Mr. Malfoy,

please take some time today to talk to Harry a bit about his time at and before Hogwarts. See if he remembers some things. Events that happened, so on so forth. You don't have to make it personal, but try and share some things about yourself as well. I wish for the bond between you two to grow. If something concerning pops up, the fireplace is connected to my office, as well as Professor Snape's. Do not hesitate to call.

Professor Dumbledore

Draco shook his head, mentally preparing himself for the conversation about to happen.

Draco sighed. Of course, why not?

Draco peaked into Harry's room, which was identical to his own, except his had a color scheme of blues and purples. Draco was a little surprised by that, he expected Gryffindor colors, but perhaps Dinky decided to do something else.

Harry stood next to his bed, which was a four-poster like Draco's, but lower to the ground. There were a few stuffed animals on the bed, and Harry held one of a black dog.

"Potter?" Draco called. Harry dropped the animal, stepping away from it.

"What?"

"Were those on your bed or did Dinky get you some toys?" Draco smirked, though he felt a little bad about how embarrassed Harry looked.

"They're not mine." Harry glared at him, walking out of his room and shutting the door sharply. He walked down the staircase, Draco behind him.

"Alright Potter, no need to get your knickers in a twist," Draco murmured, rolling his eyes. He came to the bottom of the staircase, leaning against the railing. "Look, Professor Dumbledore sent me a letter. He wants us to... talk, I guess. See if there's anything big that you don't remember, I guess."

Harry sat on the couch in front of the sandwiches, taking another as tea appeared next to the plate. "Do we 'ave to?" He asked, mouth full of sandwich.

"Unfortunately," Draco grimaced, sitting next to Harry. He poured himself a cup of tea, leaning back in the comfy couch.

"Well, we'll start simple, I guess," Draco said, looking about as awkward as Harry felt. "Tell me your full name."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Is that necessary? How would you even know if I was telling the truth?"

"Just answer the question, Potter. Sooner this is over, the better."

Harry sighed again, looking down at his hands."Which one do you want? The one my relatives use, or the one on my bank statements?" He asked. He wouldn't look at Draco.

Well, he didn't need both of them. But he had to admit, he was curious. "Both." It was probably some silly nickname, like how his own parents called him 'Dragon' in private. If nothing else, it might be decent blackmail for later, if it was embarrassing enough.

Harry answered hurriedly. It was never good when he dawdled. Dawdling lead to short tempers, which never ended pleasantly. Harry knew Draco wasn't like Uncle Vernon, but he did remind him a tad of Dudley right now. Draco was much bigger than Harry at the moment, and he didn't appreciate the difference.

"They always called me 'Freak'. But when I went to Muggle school for the first time, I figured out my name was Harry Potter. Then I went to gringotts for the first time with Hagrid, and I figured out my full name was Harry James Potter."

Draco paused for a moment. That's hadn't been the embarrassing name he had expected. Draco considered what kind of family did that, thinking about Harry had been acting. He... he had changed a bit, hadn't he? Harry didn't walk with the confidence he usually had, or talk like he used to. Though, he was still snarky around Draco, but hadn't he seen him flinch at his voice earlier? He noticed how stiff Harry sat. How Harry looked like he was ready to bolt from his chair.

It seemed kind of obvious, now that he thought about it. The thought was ludicrous, nothing like this ever happened in the wizarding world. Children weren't...abused. There weren't enough wizard children to hurt them. But...Harry hadn't grown up in the wizarding world, had he?

"Alright... Harry. Erm, how old were you when you got your letter?"

"Eleven."

"How'd you get your letter?"

"Hagrid brought it to me."

"What hou-wait, what? You didn't get it by owl?" Draco asked, stopping his motion of pouring himself some tea.

"Well...I did at first, but Uncle Vernon wouldn't let me have it. And then eventually the entire house was full of them. They flew through the windows and the chimney and the pipes. Uncle Vernon took us to stay at a hotel that night, so that we couldn't any mail from there, but it still came. And then we went to this deserted house in the ocean, and right as it turned midnight on my eleventh birthday, Hagrid burst in," Harry took a moment to laugh, "scared the wits out of my family. Turned my cousin into a pig and everything! It was... the best day of my life." Harry said, stopping abruptly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to ramble. What's the next question?"

Draco laughed a bit, surprising himself and Harry. He shook his head, pouring himself another cuppa. "I might come to like Hagrid a bit."

"Hagrid was the first friend I had. He's a good person, you really shouldn't hold what he is against him, you know," Harry said, getting himself some tea too.

Draco wasn't sure if he'd include that in his report to Dumbledore. It seemed pointless, along with telling him what his relatives called him. Well, unless it meant Harry wouldn't live with his Muggle family anymore. And that would be good, wouldn't it? Draco would have to think about it.

"Maybe," Draco said, trying to remember what question he was asking. "Right, what house are you in?" Draco had thought this question was going to be pointless, but Harry seemed confused for a second. Draco watched him closely.

Harry struggled to answer for a bit.

"Well... the sorting hat tried to make me go into Slytherin, but I didn't want to," Harry said slowly, "but I convinced it to put me somewhere else. I didn't think I'd be very good in Slytherin, so it ended up putting me in Gryffindor," Harry finished, nodded. He gave Draco a small smile.

Draco's mind was going a little haywire. He would've been dorm-mates with Potter this whole time, if he hadn't convinced the hat otherwise. And, bloody hell, he convinced the blasted Sorting Hat to put him somewhere else! That was one of the most Slytherin-things he had ever heard. This was... this was interesting.

He could... manipulate Potter a bit, couldn't he? Get him to think more like a Slytherin. Why not? It would be fun, seeing Harry act weirdly towards his Gryffindor friends while getting along just fine with Draco...

Why did he even care about this? This was silly, pointless. It didn't matter if Potter liked him.

Draco gave Harry a small, forced smile. "Where did we first meet?"

"On the train to Hogwar- wait, no, we met when we were getting our robes fixed, in Diagonally. In...Madam Malkin's, right?"

Draco nodded, a bit hurt that Harry didn't remember. He suppose that wasn't odd, though. That could've been something he forgot naturally. It wasn't that significant, anyways.

"Yes, at Madam Malkin's. I remember Malkin herself almost fainting when she found out who you were," Draco said, laughing bit when Harry groaned.

"Alright, now for the big question, who is He-Who," he stopped. Potter always said his name, didn't he? Straining, Draco asked, "who is Voldemort?"

Harry gasped, hands grabbing his head as he doubled over and choked on a scream.