Bitter Buddies
July/August 2021: "What if Harry had shook Draco's hand that day?"
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Harry James Potter and Draco Lucius Malfoy, you say? As friends, you say?
Curious things you ask of me, my friend. Especially when half of the fandom sees these two as arch-nemeses, each the perfect foil of the other, and the other half as angst-ridden, fiery-hot lovers. (Yes, I am looking at you, fellow fan-fiction writers. And no, I do not ship the two, sorry.)
Now then, before I bore you with the actual story that you came here for, there may be a thing or two more to add: I, the author, was having a recurring mind-block when one fine day, I GOT AN IDEA! I don't think you can tell, but, I am quite literally jumping with joy because those things are rare.
I decided I would try my luck with comedy!
In hindsight, that last sentence in itself is probably more hysterical than anything I attempt to write for I know I do not write witty literature...so you might as well just close this tab and go on with your merry day, I shall not waste your very precious time.
...
Still here?
Well, I must say that I applaud your courage, good human. Thank you, I truly appreciate it. And, enough of my blabbing, let's get to it.
***
It was like any other business day at Madam Malkin's Robe Shop. I can only assume it was like any other, it is not like she knew The Famous Harry Potter was to set foot into her shop when she opened business that day. Anyways, since it was close to the start of a new term at Hogwarts, she was seeing many young men and women come and leave the store with crisp, brand new robes.
She welcomed a mother-and-son duo to the store, who seemed as if they had stepped out of a modern period drama of the nineteenth century aristocracy that one finds on Netflix these days. The woman; she was beauty, she was grace, and most importantly she looked like she would punch your face, all while sipping on some pungent Earl Grey.
The boy-- whose identity, I am sure, is painfully obvious-- had that same ghost-pale blonde hair and a haughty aura to him. His pointy face held his chin up high as he strode into the shop.
The woman spoke in a polite yet collected manner: "Good morning, I'd like to buy a set of good robes for my little boy here."
To which Madam Malkin said, "Hogwarts crowd, I take it? The order is the usual- a minimum of one plain work robe and one winter robe."
"Yes. My little Slytherin boy," the woman gushed, ruffling the boy's hair.
"Right this way, ma'am," said Madam Malkin cheerily, her gorgeously mauve robes leading the way to the back of the store. Her magical measuring tape got to work as she disappeared into the storeroom to fetch some fittings for the boy to trial. She promptly returned with some garments. The other woman picked a robe made of the finest cotton blend and put it on her darling son, who looked like a clothing hanger in those oversized clothes.
"The next size," mumbled the blonde woman to herself. She found a satisfactory fit and stowed those robes on a counter nearby. "Gosh, Draco, my boy...look at how you've grown up!"
To which the pointy-faced boy said, "Yes mother, make this quick so we can get myself a proper broomstick!"
Enter our main protagonist, the namesake of the original book, our hero Harrison Potter.
Madam Malkin heard the bell on the door rattle. And lo, there the prophesied saviour of the wizarding world stood in his shining-- I am tempted to say "armour", but who am I kidding-- no, rather dull clothes. His pickled-toad green eyes darted hither and thither, making his nervousness blatant.
She greeted him with a warm smile, saying, "Starting Hogwarts this year too, dear? Come, I'll lead you to the fittings." Harry followed her to the back of the shop.
And so our two mainstays meet for the very first time.
"Hogwarts too?" Pointy-Face asked.
Harry simply nodded.
"What house do you reckon you'd be in? I know I'll be in Slytherin, my whole family was in Slytherin! It is only the best house of them all!" (Tch, typical bragging. For the record, we are not all headstrong egotists like this lad right here.)
Harry was naturally confused. He had only learned of the existence of magic just a few hours prior, he had no idea what the houses were!
Without waiting for an answer, Draco went on: "Imagine getting sorted into Hufflepuff, I'd rather not learn magic at all!" (Do not pay heed to what this ignorant and prejudiced child says, you are the most lovable and wholesome lot in all of Hogwarts. Bless you, Badgers.)
Harry just nodded along, utterly clueless of what he was to say to that. Draco, on the other hand, began to doubt if this boy was capable of human speech or not. He decided to use the best of this opportunity and flaunt his money.
"My father will buy me a real broomstick as soon as this is done. He will buy me the best in the market, with which I will play and win for the Slytherin Quidditch team? Ever played it?"
"No," Harry finally said.
"Ah so you do talk! Pity you don't know Quidditch, it's tons of fun. Maybe I could show you all the manoeuvers I know of."
"That'd be nice."
"Hmm, yes. You know, I have never seen you before, and I know practically everyone who is important. Who are your parents, are they of our kind?"
"As in, are they both magical? Yes."
"Right, and where are they?"
This inquisitive nature of his reminded Harry of Dudley's nosiness. Mildly irritated by the same, he replied, "Both dead."
"Oh, sorry."
"It's not-" But before he could finish, Madam Malkin was done with both their fittings.
Draco stood with his mother, who held the new robes in a neat parcel. He extended an arm and said in his pompous air, "The name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."
Harry shook his hand in return. "Oh, I'm Harry. Harry Potter."
This undoubtedly garnered a few audible gasps and indistinct whispers from the employees. The tall and elegant woman spun around and surveyed the skinny boy, the one alleged to save them all. Giving him an odd and indecipherable look, she walked out of the store with her son without sparing another word.
Draco said, "See you at Hogwarts, Pottah," and trailed behind his mother.
***
Once at Hogwarts, he entered the castle abreast with his new found friend Ronald. Ronald, or Ron, was the opposite of Draco when it came to their ideologies. Harry took an instant liking to this one.
Outside the Great Hall, Harry ran into dear old Draco again. He decided to introduce his two newest acquaintances to each other. "Draco, this is-"
Draco piped in with a nasty scowl, "Red hair, and a hand-me-down robe, ha! You must be a weasel."
Ron was quick to rebuke, "A posh snob that has cotton candy for hair, ha! You must be a real git."
"No one asked for your opinion, you filthy blood traitor!"
Ron was enraged at that. No one speaks of his family to him like that. It took all of Harry's persuasion to prevent Ron from clawing Draco's face off like a rabid cat.
Turning to Harry, Draco spelt out his offer, "Pottah, you will come to know that some wizarding families..." he said, throwing a dirty look at Ron, "...are far, far superior than the others. You must be with the right sort, it will always help you."
"Thanks, but I'd rather not pick," said Harry.
Before anyone could say anything more, Queen Minerva McGonagall had come to give instructions to all the first-years assembled. She said in her thick Scottish lilt, "Your houses would be like your family away from home for the whole time you are in Hogwarts. Now, all you need to do is wait patiently until the doors open. Once there, I will announce your names alphabetically and you will simply walk up to the dais to be sorted."
The doors flung open! It was finally time for the Sorting Ceremony!
After all the Abbotts, the Bones, the Grangers and the Longbottoms, it was finally Malfoy's turn. He strutted up to the dais, sat on the stool and did not wait at all for his results. The tattered hat had barely touched his blonde head and it blurted out "Slytherin!" loudly. He proudly walked off to his house's table, but not before telling Harry:
"You still owe me an audience for Quidditch, Pottah."
*******
Thank you, O brave reader, for making it this far into what I think is the most annoying retelling of a scene ever. Although I doubt you did, I hope you enjoyed reading this!
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