Harry Potter had been told he was a wizard—but nothing in the magical world felt anything less than utterly foreign to him.
Witches and wizards strolled past in pointed hats. Toad spawn and slugs were traded openly beneath signs reading 'Potion Ingredients.' Winged fairies darted under eaves hung with dreamcatchers, and owls landed on people's arms without so much as a blink, letters already tied to their legs.
The impossible was unfolding all around him with the casual ease of an ordinary Tuesday. Harry didn't know how astonished he was supposed to be, so he simply turned his head from side to side and stared.
"I'll fetch your books, Harry! Wait right here!"
The moment Hagrid left him alone, Harry drifted through the crowd as though in a trance.
From the feet of the passersby—shoes with tails that squeaked with every step!—to the tops of their heads—what he'd taken for a wig turned out to be a live eagle!—not a single thing was ordinary. Magic wasn't something these people did. It was simply what they were. Harry walked through it all like a bird dropped suddenly into water, startled by everything at once. He was passing what appeared to be Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions when someone stepped directly into his path.
Quite boldly. Quite naturally.
"Hello. Are you by any chance the Harry Potter?"
She looked like a doll. Glossy blonde hair swayed as she approached, and her small, pretty face was lit with a pair of eyes bright with undisguised curiosity. She had come to him with no ulterior motive whatsoever—only pure, uncomplicated interest—and now she was studying his face with great attention.
"With a lightning-bolt scar like that, you must be Harry Potter. Am I right or am I right?"
"Oh—yeah. I'm Harry Potter."
"I knew it! My eye is never wrong!"
She preened with the unabashed delight of a small child. She looked, Harry thought, exactly like a princess from a fairy tale.
Actually—was she? Hagrid had said griffins were real. And dragons. And ghosts. If all of that was true, why not a fairy-tale princess?
Would she turn into a painting if he touched her? Before he quite knew what he was doing, Harry reached out and poked her cheek.
Soft. Warm. Undeniably real.
"Is she actually real?" he murmured.
The girl startled violently and shoved him back.
"What do you think you're doing?! How dare you put your hands on me!"
"Oh—sorry, sorry. I didn't know you were real."
"What? Real? What does that mean? That is not an adequate explanation, and I will be holding you accountable for laying hands on my person!"
She planted her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes. It was clearly meant to be intimidating. It was, unfortunately, far too adorable, and Harry said so before he could stop himself.
"You're just so cute... I thought someone had conjured you."
"...Pardon?"
Harry took her question at face value and stumbled on.
"You're so cute that I thought—maybe someone had used magic to make a doll that looked like—"
"No, that's not what I—!"
The narrowed eyes slowly lowered. Her small mouth wavered—caught between laughter and something that might have been embarrassment. She cleared her throat with great dignity.
"Ahem! I shall let this pass. This once. But don't think I'll be so lenient next time."
He appeared to be forgiven. Harry exhaled with relief. The girl, for her part, drew closer again—with noticeably more spring in her step than before.
"I'm Carina. Carina Malfoy. Eldest daughter of the noble House of Malfoy, and a Hogwarts first-year this autumn. I'll be in Slytherin, naturally."
"Slytherin?"
"Don't tell me you don't even know the four houses." She looked at him as though this were a personal failing. "Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor. The Sorting Hat divides all students among them. And the finest of the four—the only one worthy of the name—is Slytherin. Reserved exclusively for witches and wizards of pure and distinguished blood."
"I see. That suits you perfectly, then."
Harry said it without thinking, meaning every word. Carina's face broke into a wide, radiant smile.
"I rather like you. It's strange that you know nothing about Hogwarts, but I'll overlook it."
The reminder landed with a small thud. She was part of this world—had always been. To Harry, Diagon Alley was bewildering and impossible; to her, it was as natural as breathing. A real conversation between them was probably impossible.
He told her honestly.
"I've spent ten years living with my aunt and uncle. I don't know anything about the magical world."
"Your uncle? He's a Muggle?"
"Yes. My parents were apparently wizards, but I've never seen their faces. I didn't even know they were magical until I was ten."
"Hmph. Your Muggle uncle sounds like a tremendous fool. You can't hide a witch or wizard—it always comes out in the end. I could float down from the second floor without a wand! What did you do?"
"I think I... made a window disappear."
"What? Really?"
Harry still didn't understand why she kept asking him to repeat himself. A window vanishing and a girl drifting gently down from a second floor seemed equally extraordinary to him.
"You're not entirely hopeless, then. Something resembling a Vanishing Spell, without a wand..."
"Is that what it was? A Vanishing Spell?"
"Not exactly—wandless magic doesn't count as a proper spell. But once I've studied at Hogwarts, I'll be able to cast a real Vanishing Spell! Don't go thinking you're the only special one!"
She was competing with him entirely on her own, and Harry had no idea why. He blinked at her, baffled.
If only he knew a little more about magic, he could have kept up. He wouldn't have had to stand here looking like such an idiot.
As if reading his thoughts, Carina tucked her arms together and said:
"Anyway. You're saying you know nothing about magic? Fine. Come with me. I'm in a good mood today, so I'll give you a brief tour. As a special exception."
It had been a remarkably good year so far. The best birthday he could remember. He'd learned he was a wizard. And now a girl was offering to show him around without the slightest trace of irritation.
Was this what it felt like when things went right? Harry nodded so quickly he nearly gave himself whiplash.
"That's Eeylops Owl Emporium. Owls are popular pets because they double as post—they can carry letters anywhere. If you're thinking of getting a pet, an owl's your best choice. They're a bit dear, but worth it."
"Do you have an owl?"
"I have so many I'm sick of them. We have a dedicated owlery at home, that's how many there are. I'm not bringing any to Hogwarts—I refuse to deal with feathers and feeding schedules."
"That's impressive. Dozens of owls—you could send dozens of letters at once."
"Hmm. You do catch on."
She showed off her knowledge at every turn, clearly enjoying the view from above. But Harry kept responding with genuine admiration, and it's difficult to stay superior when someone is sincerely impressed by you. Carina's step grew lighter. She pulled him along with increasing enthusiasm.
"Look at that. A broomstick. Nimbus 2000. The Nimbus line isn't much to look at, but the performance is decent enough for what's currently available."
"Performance? Does it sweep better than a regular broom?"
"What? Broomsticks are for flying. Everyone knows that."
"Sorry. I've never been on a plane or a broomstick, so I didn't—"
Harry dropped his gaze again. Carina stopped walking. She looked down at him with an expression of profound dissatisfaction.
"I don't like you."
Harry's heart lurched. Was she annoyed with him after all? Had he done something wrong without realising it, the way Uncle Vernon always said he did—some irredeemable flaw that rubbed people the wrong way without warning?
Ten years of Privet Drive don't vanish overnight. Harry apologised in the same small, shrinking voice he'd always used there.
"S-sorry. I still don't know very much—"
"*That.* That is what I don't like!"
He hadn't known that was the problem.
Carina pointed at him and said it plainly:
"Why do you apologise for everything? Stop saying sorry over nothing. If you're a wizard, act like one!"
"But I only found out yesterday that I was a wizard..."
"Whether you found out yesterday or the day you were born, you are a wizard! You are not a Muggle. You were never a Muggle. Act accordingly!"
Her small hand landed on his shoulder. She pressed down, firmly, as though adjusting a puppet. Harry had no choice but to follow where she directed.
"Stop hunching!"
She straightened his shoulders, then moved her hand toward his chin. Harry flinched and turned his head away on instinct.
"Chin up!"
She got his chin up by sheer persistence, then moved her fingers to the corners of his mouth. Harry felt heat rush into his face.
Carina paid it no attention whatsoever. She was entirely focused on the task of coaxing his mouth into something resembling a smile.
"Hold your head up and smile like you mean it. Dignity, at all times, in all places. I cannot stand people who mumble and shrink and look at the floor."
"Mm..."
He'd almost said sorry again. He caught it just in time. Carina sighed at the boy still watching her with cautious eyes—then spotted her family calling to her from across the lane. She waved over Harry's shoulder.
"I'll be right there!"
A handsome couple waited in the distance, carrying the same air of effortless elegance as Carina herself. They were unmistakably a wizarding family—and yet striking enough that even a Muggle would have looked twice.
Harry felt the goodbye coming and was sorry for it. Sure enough, Carina turned to him with a farewell.
"Well. That was reasonably entertaining. The cowering was off-putting, but your face is acceptable enough, I suppose. I'll see you at Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts..."
"Yes. You'll be there too, obviously. If you can manage to carry yourself properly—well. I might consider letting you walk beside me."
It wasn't the end. They were both first-years. They would share the same castle, learn the same magic, cross paths for seven years.
Harry's chest did something unfamiliar.
"I'll work on being more of a wizard. And then... will you acknowledge me?"
"Yes. That's precisely what I want."
She couldn't have known. She couldn't have guessed what those few careless words would mean to the boy standing in front of her—how much they would shape the years ahead of him.
A small girl who liked to show off had changed a boy. A boy who would, in turn, become enormously entangled in her life.
Harry nodded.
"I'll remember that. See you."
"...Hmph. You will indeed!"
Carina caught the hem of her skirt lightly between her fingers and dipped into a small curtsy—the kind a princess might give. Harry stared, completely thrown.
She spun away immediately with a toss of her head, which suggested she'd simply been trying out a new greeting she'd recently learned. Still, it left quite an impression.
Not knowing any other way to say goodbye, Harry raised his hand and waved. He kept waving until she disappeared from sight.
It was some time later that Hagrid came shouldering through the crowd, arms piled high with textbooks, slightly out of breath.
"Harry! Where did you get to? I turned around and you'd vanished—I've been looking everywhere!"
"Sor—"
*Sorry, Hagrid.* That was what he would have said.
But Harry had met a girl. And he had decided to be more of a wizard. He couldn't go back to the way he'd been before.
He straightened his shoulders. Lifted his chin. Met Hagrid's eyes—Hagrid, who was twice his size—and answered without flinching.
"I made a friend. A girl who's starting Hogwarts this year, same as me. She showed me around. I haven't done anything wrong, have I?"
"Oh, have you now! Made a friend already! Ha! You've got your father's way with people, I can see that!"
Hagrid didn't scold him. Didn't shout. Didn't punish him for failing to apologise or for meeting his eyes. Nothing like Uncle Vernon. Nothing like Aunt Petunia.
Come to think of it, they'd shouted at him whether he looked down or not. Perhaps it had never mattered which way he held his head.
If it didn't matter—then perhaps standing tall was simply the better choice.
"Still, Harry, you might've said something before you wandered off! I was half out of my mind thinking I'd lost you!"
"Oh—that's... I'm sorry, Hagrid."
"No need to apologise! You made a friend—that's wonderful! So then, what was she like?"
Harry looked in the direction she had gone.
"Like magic," he said quietly.