Harry Potter and the Frozen Heart

"Born of cold and winter air

And mountain rain combining

This icy force both foul and fair

Has a frozen heart worth mining

"Cut through the heart, cold and clear

Strike for love and strike for fear

There's beauty and there's danger here

Split the ice apart

Beware the frozen heart"

Sybil Trelawney closed her eyes and collapsed forward, Albus Dumbledore catching her so she wouldn't fall. The twinkling blue eyes looked at Minerva McGonagall in concern.

Harry sobbed meekly. The Dursleys took him to London for the first time and-who would've guessed?-they lost him. Harry should've seen this coming; they've wanted to get rid of him ever since he was placed under their care seven years ago.

A hand touched Harry's arm and he started. A pale boy, about Harry's age with almost white hair, looked at him with concern.

"Draco, dear-" a blonde woman started. She looked at Harry and gasped, going down to Harry's height and giving him the same concerned look the boy did.

"What's the matter? Why are you all alone? Did you lose your parents?" the woman asked kindly. That just made a choked sob escape Harry.

"I lost my a- aunt and uncle," Harry muttered.

"What do they look like, sweetie?" the nice woman questioned.

"Um, my aunt is skinny and blonde, my uncle has brown hair, and they have a son that looks like him," Harry said, looking around fearfully.

The woman stood tall and smiled at him, gently grabbing his hand. "Alright. Let's go look for them...What's your name?"

"H- Harry," he replied shakily. The pale boy smiled at him.

"I'm Draco," he enthused. Harry tenatively smiled back as he followed the nice woman.

Eventually, they found the Dursleys-well, rather, the other way around.

"Boy! Where've you been?" Uncle Vernon spat. Aunt Petunia and Dudley scowled angrily. Harry winced and unconsciously held onto the woman's hand tighter.

"Who's this?" Aunt Petunia said sharply.

The kind blonde smiled sweetly. "I apologise I didn't introduce myself. I'm Narcissa Malfoy, and your nephew here said he'd lost you."

Uncle Vernon grumbled angrily. "Boy, I told you not to leave us," he spat.

Harry resisted the urge to cry. "Sorry, Uncle Vernon," he muttered.

"Mother," the boy-Lego, was his name? Something weird like that-interrupted, oblivious to the tension between Harry and his uncle, "Can Harry come over some time?"

This question left everyone quiet and terse. "Only if his relatives would let him, Draco, dear." So his name was Draco. It wasn't a weird name at all.

"If you want to have the brat over, sure, but we're not responsible for any damage he does," Uncle Vernon spat dangerously. The blonde woman nodded sombrely.

"I understand, sir. I'm sure I could take the boy off your hands for a while," the woman replied. "By the way, who are you?"

Uncle Vernon, seemingly excited at the prospect of Harry leaving for a while, said haughtily, "I am Vernon Dursley. This is my wife, Petunia, and my son, Dudley. It is a pleasure for you to take the boy off our hands for even a few hours." Uncle Vernon sneered at Harry.