Henrietta Potter || Draco Malfoy

2 - The Boy With The Pale Pointed Face

So that was how it started.

It turned out my parents had been a wizard and a witch. It turned out I was a witch.

Hagrid explained to me that they were killed by an evil wizard called Lord Voldemort. Not killed in a car crash like my aunt and uncle had told me.

Apparently this Voldemort had also tried to kill me, which explained the funny lightning bolt shaped scar on my forehead.

And after discovering all of that, I was ecstatic to find out that not only was I rich, but I was to attend a wizarding school called Hogwarts where I would learn about magic.

Get in.

Hagrid took me to a place called Diagon Alley in London to purchase all the things I would need for my new school.

He steered me to a shop called 'Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions' to go and get my school robes, whilst abandoning me to go and have a drink in the pub.

Nervously, I entered the shop on my own and came face to face immediately with a a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she spoke kindly. "Got the lot here - another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

I looked to the back of the shop where a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes.

Madam Malkin stood me on a stool next to his, slipping a long robe over my head as she began pinning it to the right length.

"Hullo," the boy said, turning to face me. "Hogwarts too?"

"Yes," I replied, not knowing what else to say.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking for wands," he said, in a bored, drawling voice. "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."

I was strongly reminded of Dudley.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on, his silver grey eyes looking questioningly into mine.

"No," I said, stiffly. I wasn't liking him one bit.

"Play Quidditch at all?"

"No," I answered, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.

"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?"

"No," I said, wishing I had another word in my vocabulary right now.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," I said, thinking what a git this boy sounded.

"I say, look at that man!" the boy said suddenly, nodding towards the front window. I saw Hagrid standing there, grinning at me and pointing to two large ice-creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," I said, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the boy. "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," I replied. I was liking this boy less and less every second.

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage - lives in a hut in the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed."