Harry Potter and The Dark Emissary Book 1 (Male Reader)

Diagon Alley

Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Pokemon is owned by Nintendo

__________________________________________

Y/N's POV

The bell over the door gave a soft chime as we entered Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, a cozy shop filled with soft light and rows upon rows of neatly arranged school robes. Harry glanced around nervously, taking in the sight of the mannequins draped in Hogwarts attire, their house crests stitched into the fabric.

"Yeh'll need a set o' robes for Hogwarts, Harry," Hagrid said, gently steering him toward a plump witch dressed in mauve. "This is Madam Malkin, best in the business."

Madam Malkin smiled warmly as she approached. "Hogwarts, dear?" she asked, her eyes twinkling as she ushered Harry toward a stool. "Come along, we'll get you fitted."

Harry nodded, climbing onto the stool as Madam Malkin began to drape a robe over his shoulders, her wand flicking in neat, practiced motions as she adjusted the fabric.

I lingered in the shadows near the back of the shop, watching quietly. This was a simple task, but it was a significant one for Harry. Each moment like this—the small steps that brought him closer to becoming part of this world—carried meaning. He had been kept in the dark for so long, told he was nothing, that every piece of his new identity mattered.

As Madam Malkin worked, the door opened again, and a boy with pale blond hair and sharp features entered the shop, followed closely by a witch in fine robes. His eyes scanned the room with the practiced ease of someone accustomed to being in control. I could sense the air of superiority that surrounded him, the entitlement that clung to his every movement.

He approached Harry with a faint smirk. "Hogwarts too?" he asked, as though the answer were obvious.

*****

Harry's POV

Harry glanced at the boy who had just walked in, his pale hair and sharp features giving him a look of confidence that Harry could only dream of. There was something about him—something that made Harry feel strangely uneasy. But Harry nodded, unsure of what else to say.

"Yes," Harry replied quietly.

The boy climbed onto the stool next to him, examining Harry with a look that was both curious and calculating. "My father's next door buying my books," the boy said casually, though his tone held a hint of superiority. "He's already got me my broomstick. Do you have your own broom?"

Harry shook his head. "No," he said quietly, feeling a little embarrassed by the question. He hadn't even thought about broomsticks yet—there had been so much else to take in.

The boy raised an eyebrow. "Really? I thought everyone had their own broom. I'm hoping to be on the Quidditch team. My father says it's a great way to make connections."

As the boy spoke, Harry couldn't help but feel even more out of place. It was clear this boy had grown up in the magical world, while Harry was still trying to figure out how everything worked. But there was something about the boy's tone that grated on him, a kind of arrogance that reminded him a little too much of Dudley.

*****

Y/N's POV

I watched the exchange between Harry and the boy—Draco Malfoy, as I soon learned. His presence was like a cold wind, calculated and sharp. I could sense the ambition in him, the desire to prove himself to those he deemed worthy. But beneath it all, there was something more—a hunger for power, a need to be in control.