ambition

The Expected

   The entirety of the extended Potter family had known that Harry James Potter was absolutely a wizard practically his whole life. But that didn't mean it wasn't cause for celebration when Harry got his letter. In fact, quite the opposite. The celebration was done classic Marauders style, much to Lily's distress. But even she, by the end of the night, was completely and utterly involved in what Sirius and James had taken to calling 'festivities'. To be frank, Harry genuinely thought that maybe James and Sirius were more excited about him going to Hogwarts than he was, and that was certainly saying something considering he'd literally been counting the days since his ninth birthday, crossing off each day on he calender as it passed. But then... James was James, and Sirius was Sirius.

   But whatever the reasoning for it, the morning after, when Harry insisted they had to get to Diagon Alley, it was only Lily and Remus who were fit to take him. Try as the other two might, they couldn't escape Lily's order to sleep their hangovers off, so maybe they could see without blinding headaches later. Not that Harry had any issues, just so long as there was somebody available to take him because his tiny body surely would burst if he got any more excited, and he still had September to stew on the fact that he was actually going to Hogwarts.

   Lily and Remus helped him going into each store he required, except for Madam Malkin's. Harry insisted he would be okay on his own, while Lily went to chaperone Remus in investigating whatever he had spotted. He'd never been into Madam Malkin's before, but the woman was nice enough, going on to take his measurements, guessing correctly the school he needed uniform for. He wasn't alone in the shop however. There was another boy, pale-faced, with pointed features and stark blonde hair. Harry had his suspicions of who this boy might be, but not wanting to be wrong, or deny the boy his chance to differentiate himself from the things Harry knew about his maybe-family, Harry let him go on with the oncoming greeting that he could see written all over his face.

   "Hello," he greeted, "Hogwarts too?"

   "Yes."

   "My father's next door buying my books, and mother's up the street looking at wands," the boy drawled almost boredly, "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

   Definitely a Malfoy, Harry thought, his suspicion proven. He wanted to make a point that he had no chance smuggling anything into Hogwarts, let alone a racing broom. He didn't have his own yet. James had promised he would get him one when he made the Quidditch team ("there's no 'if' about it Lils!"), but until then, he would just have to use James' when he wanted to practise.

   "Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on, as though reading Harry's mind.

   "No."

   "Play Quidditch at all?"

   "A little."

   "I do - Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

  The boy really seemed like a brat in Harry's opinion. It wasn't anything he would say out loud of course, but he couldn't help but think that this kid had obviously been brought up what his dad called 'typical pureblood fashion'. Harry had tried to point out that James was pureblood too, but he quickly stated that he meant the likes of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Harry had silenced his arguments for that one.

   Regardless. No matter his or even James' opinions, and no matter that this Malfoy seemed like a brat, Harry couldn't help but feel like he was someone he might be fond of. Like they might've actually made good friends. He decided to hold the boy's conversation.