The large bird flew through the dimmed, nighttime sky. It was an owl, hooting absentmindedly and spinning and swirling through the stars. The bird soared through the forest, shriveled trees eager to clasp the owl as it's nightly prey. The owl's beady yellow eyes shifted excitedly. The glowing orbs took in all of its eerie surroundings. Its wide wingspan slightly bowed with each graceful flap of its grey, feathered wings. In its golden beak, an envelope with a small red seal was clenched tightly.

In the near distance, a lonely manor sat lonely in a small section of dark, deforested land. A tall metal fence surrounded the property. In the third floor window, a bolt of bright red light repeatedly flashed. A muffled, squeaky shriek sounding suddenly afterwards.

The owl soared down at a jarring angle and shot itself toward a half opened window on the first floor. It skidded to the floor, dropped the letter, and slid into a dainty cabinet in the corner. The cabinet wobbled on its weak, spindly legs before falling to the ground. Except for the cabinet, the room was entirely empty. The owl cocked its head as its unproportionally tiny eyes stared into the hallway. 

Hearing the commotion, a young boy sprinted into the room. He had slicked back blonde hair. It was almost as white as the hair of an elderly man's. The boy had a narrow, pointed face topped with stone grey eyes and a wide, animated grin.

The boy crouched down to be eye level with the owl. It dropped the envelope on the floor and the boy picked it up. The boy patted the owl on the head. The bird cooed happily and nuzzled him on the arm. The owl flapped its wings and then it slowly raised itself in the air, hovering for a moment before flying through the window.

The boy excitedly waved his enveloped letter in the air. He joyfully shouted, "Father! My letter is here!"

A lofty man entered the room. He held his head high with the utmost confidence as he marched in further to the large, spacious room. His formal, glossy black shoes click-clacked on the flooring, just like the hooves of a horse. He stopped walking, for he stood less than a foot away from the boy, frowning intimidatingly. His eyes held a disturbing amount of disgust. The man snatched the letter from his son's pale hand.  The man tore the envelope open.

In his deep, drawling voice he slowly read, "'Dear Mister Malfoy, We are pleased" ("really, why should they be?" the man sourly added) "to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You will find an enclosed list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1st. We await your owls no longer than July 31st. Yours sincerely, Minerva McGonagall."

The boy stared at his father, anxiously awaiting for his rare approval with his hands clasped against his chest. 

Contrary to the boy's absurd hope, "Thank Merlin. I was starting to fall back under the impression that you are a filthy squib, Draco," He let the letter slip through his fingers and drift to the floor. He turned on his heels and walked away.

Draco was left in the room. Alone.  Awful things happened when people are alone.

"A filthy...squib..." Draco quietly repeated, trying to process his father's harsh words. His shoulders dropped with disappointment.

Draco's eyes fell to his feet. The large smile he previously displayed had disappeared. For a quick second, Draco glanced, heartbroken, at the letter lying calmly on the floor. After a moment of standing in the room with no idea of what to do, he picked up the letter. As his eyes darted across the page, fierce anger filled up his small body. Tension and fury tugged on his chest. He suddenly ripped the letter in half and discarded it on the cold floor. Realizing what he had done, tears welled up in his eyes as he sprinted away from the room.

All that was left was paper and memories, never, ever to be forgotten.

^^^^^

Diagon Alley buzzed with busy witches and wizards hurrying to and from their destinations. Draco was walking beside his parents, Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy down the wide street. Without a word, Lucius suddenly left Narcissa and Draco. Draco craned his neck to see his father enter a dark bookshop they had just passed.

Narcissa rested her hand on her son's shoulder. "Go into Madam Malkin's shop. Go on in and get some robes. Make sure they're big enough. You children grow up too fast," she said as she reached into her black cloak's pocket. For a moment she fished around before pulling out a small handful of golden Galleons.  She let the coins slide between her long, delicate fingers and into Draco's outstretched hand. "I am going to Ollivander's. The place never fails to fascinate me."

She walked away leaving Draco standing in the middle of the pathway to be pushed around by the hands of magical folk. Draco blindly maneuvered between throngs of wizards and witches moving every direction imaginable. Luckily, Draco soon found himself standing at the shabby entrance of a rustic storefront. It was Madam Malkin's. He sighed, relieved. At least he did not have to walk any further.

As he pushed open the heavy door, Madam Malkin herself suddenly appeared smiling widely at him. "Hogwarts?" she pleasantly asked.

Draco nodded.

"Lovely," she replied. Madam Malkin was short with a motherly figure.  She had pale, skin and soft grey hair that was tied up in a tight bun. She showed off a terribly large grin as her green eyes twinkled in delight. She directed Draco to her assistant, another buoyant witch who was holding a lengthy black robe.

As Draco began to get fitted, another boy trotted in. The boy had sloppy black hair that seemed to be in dire need of a haircut and was carelessly dressed in oversized clothing. He had vivid green eyes and a slim face accented with an overconfident expression.

Madam Malkin walked the boy to a stool next to Draco.

Draco puffed up his chest, with the slightest attempt to look confident and superior, true to the Malfoy name. I need to talk to him, don't I? Might as well make acquaintance. He seems like one of the cool people. I need to say something impressive, Draco thought. He took a deep breath. "Hello. Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," the boy replied, not paying full attention.

"My father is buying my books," Maybe, Draco thought. I doubt it. He's probably looking at those creepy Dark Arts books he collects. "And mother's up the street looking at wands. Then, I'm going to drag them off to look a racing brooms.  I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll...I'll smuggle it in somehow."

The boy raised an eyebrow.

"Er, have you got your broom?" Draco went on.

"No," the boy answered.

"I do - Father says it is a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree," Draco said. Draco silently hoped the boy would be impressed enough to join him as a friend. He added with a smile, "Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No."

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family has been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I'd leave, wouldn't you?" Draco stated. He suddenly realized how rude that sounded. His face reddened, but the boy did not seem to notice. Mentally praying that the boy would not get sorted into Hufflepuff, he coughed lightly attempting to mask his obvious embarrassment. The boy may end up stunning him later as revenge for insulting his house...or everything in general. 

Draco decided to continue speaking, changing the topic. As he debated on something to talk about, a huge, gigantic man peered into the window. "Look at that man!" Draco said, shocked at his hairiness and enormous size.

"That's Hagrid," the boy stated, finally saying something other than yes and no. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," responded Draco. "I've heard of him. He's some sort of...servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper."

"Yes, exactly," Draco agreed. He leaned in as if he was telling the boy some sort of secret story. "I hear he's some sort of savage - lives in a hut on the school grounds."

The boy's smug smile faded. "I think he's brilliant," he said dryly.

"Do you?" Draco said, surprised. He has heard all of this terrible news of the oaf from his parents, but mostly about the giant's love of slaughter from Lucius, and Narcissa excessively told Draco about his addiction to purchasing dangerous creatures. His eyes widened at the boy's aghast and insulted expression. About time for another topic change. Okay, then. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," the boy snapped, his green eyes narrowing.

"Oh, sorry," said Draco. This is easily the worst conversation he has been in. It isn't saying much, because he hasn't been in many. Besides, Draco had never had much of a bond with his father, who was always so busy obsessing over his Dark business. He was by far, much closer to his mother, yet she was so quiet and secretive. She seemed to live and thrive in the company of the manor's library. He struggled to relate. After an unhealthy pause, Draco felt the need to continue the conversation, and added, "Ummm...but they were our kind, weren't they?"

"My parents were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."

Draco nodded frantically. "I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They are just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Imagine, some have never even heard of Hogwarts until they received their letter. I believe they should keep it in the old wizarding families," Draco stated. He stared unsurely at his feet. Regretfully, he was voicing his father's rash opinions through his own mouth.

Muggleborns aren't really that bad. Of course they are not the brightest in the wizarding world, but at least they are not muggles or squibs, Draco thought.

Taking a deep breath Draco began, "What's your surname, anyway?"

The boy opened his mouth to respond, but Madam Malkin interrupted him.  "That's it," Madam Malkin said, patting the boy's robes. "You're done, my dear."

The boy hopped off of the footstool. He did not turn around, and he rudely strutted away without saying any word of goodbye. 

Draco watched him as he left and placed his Galleons on Madam Malkin's desk. As the boy opened the door, Draco said, "Well, I guess I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose."

Ignoring Draco, the boy slammed the door behind him and left, walking toward the hulking old giant.

Draco's heart sunk as he realized that the boy wouldn't come back.

After a moment, of waiting in the silent shop for his robes to be finished, Narcissa walked in with a gentle smile.  Her long blonde hair flowed just beneath her shoulders shoulders.  "Hello, Draco. Good day to you, Madam Malkin."

Madam Malkin flashed a wide smile at Narcissa before returning her attention to Draco. She waved her wand and a silver needle seamlessly passed through his robes in a tight stitch. Madam Malkin flicked her small wand, making the magical needle perform its final stitch to finish Draco's robes.  

"Finished."

Narcissa pleasantly smiled. "Thank you," she told Madam Malkin. She turned to Draco. "Have you paid her?"

"I've forgotten," Draco guiltily mumbled. He reached into his robe pocket and handed Madam Malkin his money. 

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Don't make me buy you a remembrall. Come, Draco. And thank you, Madam," she said. Narcissa directed Draco out of the shop and toward Ollivander's through the careless crowd. "Earlier, I saw this sweet young boy come in.  It was just amusing, seeing all of the wands he had to try.  'The wand chooses the wizard,'" she recited.

Now it was Draco's turn to roll his eyes.  "Can I have an owl?"

"An owl? Do you realize how much maintenance a pet is?" Narcissa looked disgusted. She bent down with the hope of bringing some sort of sense into her child. "Those things poop, it has to eat, it needs exercise..."

"Please?" begged Draco. 

"We already have a house elf."

Draco sighed and kicked the ground, threatening a temper tantrum.

Narcissa groaned. "Fine," she said, defeated, and led her son to Eeylops Owl Emporium. 

I am rewriting and editing this crap! I'll eventually continue the story!