They Shook Hands: Year Two (Original Version)

They Shook Hands : Year Two

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic
by Dethryl

Chapter Five - Like Son, Like Father

Lockhart's eyes suddenly focused in on them. Harry saw those blue orbs widen and knew that his scar had been seen. "It can't be Harry Potter," Lockhart said in an awed voice.

"Harry Potter!" the photographer exclaimed, and he grabbed Harry's arm, dragging him to the front. Lockhart took Harry's hand and shook it vigorously as the photographer started snapping away. Harry groaned inwardly.

"Thank Merlin you're alive, Harry! I was only minutes away from setting out in search of you when I heard the good news that you were unharmed. Big smile now, Harry. Together, you and I rate the front page." Lockhart said all this while maintaining his perfect smile.

Harry didn't really understand that statement. He rated the front page all by himself, but there wasn't much time to ponder. He was too busy trying to extricate his hand from Lockhart's iron grip. When he finally let go, Harry could hardly feel his fingers. He tried to sidle off to the side, but Lockhart was having none of it. He put his arm around Harry's shoulders.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what an extraordinary moment this is," he said in a theatrical voice. "It strikes me that this would be the perfect opportunity to make a little announcement that I've been keeping under wraps for some time now. You see, when Harry Potter stepped into Flourish and Blotts today to buy my autobiography, Magical Me, he had no idea, no idea," Lockhart repeated, "that he and his classmates would shortly be getting the real magical me."

The crowd buzzed for a moment over what Lockhart could mean. "Yes, good people, I'm very pleased to announce that come September I will be taking up the post of instructor of Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

The crowd burst into applause. Lockhart let them cheer for a bit, then he waved his hands for quiet. "You'll need to study hard, Harry," he said. "And so I'm happy to present you with my complete works, in addition to my autobiography, Magical Me, totally free of charge."

The crowd applauded again at this show of generosity. Harry found his arms suddenly full of books, and he staggered under the weight. He carried the load over to where Draco and the others were waiting.

"Good show," Draco said to him. "You saved a pretty penny on those books."

"It's not like I couldn't afford them," Harry grumbled.

"Never turn down a chance to save money," Elan said. "Those books are mighty expensive."

"He hardly has to worry about that," Draco laughed. "Blimey, Elan, you should see his vault!"

"I've seen large piles of money before, Draco," Elan told his little brother in a patronizing tone.

"Harry's vault puts your trust fund to shame," Draco shot back.

Pansy had stepped away from them, moving forward in the queue to get her book signed. Blaise and Jamie entered the other queue to pay for their books. Leaving Elan and their books with the sisters, Draco helped Harry shove through the crowd to the door. When he got outside, Harry took a deep breath of much-needed fresh air. It was well he enjoyed it, because his respite was not to last.

"I bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" Harry knew that voice. Obnoxious and insulting, it could only be Ron Weasley. Harry dropped the stack of Lockhart's books and turned to find Weasley sneering at him. A red-haired girl was standing next to him with a cauldron full of books and school supplies. By the similarity of their features (and the red hair), she must be Weasley's younger sister.

"Bet, Weasley?" Draco said in a mocking tone. "How can you bet on anything?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Weasley snapped, not shifting his gaze. "Famous Harry Potter," he said in a disgusted voice. "He can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

"Jealous much?" Harry said coolly.

"Hardly," Weasley scorned. "You're entirely too full of yourself, do you know that?"

"Don't cause trouble, Ron," the girl said exasperatedly. "Leave him alone."

Draco laughed. "Look there, Harry," he drawled. "You've got yourself a girlfriend!"

Both Weasleys turned bright red. The girl stared at her shoes. "I told you to shut up, Malfoy!" Weasley seethed.

"Yes, and I ignored you," Draco retorted. "I'd like to continue ignoring you, but I find myself curious as to what you've been doing in a bookshop. Surely you're not buying anything."

Weasley was silent, but he glared daggers in Draco's direction. Draco stared back, neither willing to blink first. "Tell me, how long are your parents going to go hungry to pay for all those books? One month? Two? What bank was foolish enough to extend you credit?"

Weasley snarled and lunged for Draco's throat, but his sister grabbed onto his collar. "Let me go, Gin!" Weasley growled.

"Children, I hope you're playing nicely," came Mr. Malfoy's urbane voice as he glided closer, interrupting the impending confrontation. "And who do we have here?" he asked rhetorically. His eyes flicked over the two scruffy-looking children. "Red hair, shabby robes, and vacant expressions." He smiled coldly. "You must be Weasleys."

His face an ugly red, Weasley muttered something unintelligible. He held his shaking hands at his sides. He stared impertinently, but even he was cowed by Mr. Malfoy's imposing demeanour.

"There you are, Ron," said an older man as he hurried up. "Ginny, good, you're here too."

"Well, well, well, Weasley Senior," Mr. Malfoy said in that same superior manner.

Mr. Weasley made eye contact with Mr. Malfoy. "Lucius," he said. He sounded as though he'd eaten something that disagreed with him..

"Such a busy time at the Ministry," Mr. Malfoy said dryly. "All those raids. I do hope they're paying you overtime." He reached into the girl's cauldron and extracted a very old, very worn copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration. He flipped it open and turned the pages distastefully.

"Although from the looks of this, obviously not." Closing the book with a sudden snap, he dropped it back in the cauldron. Mr. Malfoy looked down his nose at Mr. Weasley. "Tell me, Arthur, what's the use in being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Mr. Weasley's face flushed. "We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Lucius. Kidnapping, lying to the media, bribing government officials? Why, those are things that Muggles do."

Mr. Malfoy went pale. His hand twisted the handle of his cane, and suddenly he was pointing a wand at the other man! Mr. Weasley had his wand out a second later.

"Duelling in public, Lucius?" Mr. Weasley asked in astonishment. "Quite willing to flout the law, aren't you?"

"There is no Muggle filth around to see," Mr. Malfoy said through clenched teeth. "I will not stand here and be insulted by the likes of you."

"It makes me wonder what other laws you've broken," Mr. Weasley continued relentlessly. "Perhaps the Ministry needs to make a visit to your manor."

"A'right, gents, a'right, break it up!" boomed a loud voice. A huge man stepped between the two wizards. His bushy beard wiggled as he talked. "No need fer drawin' wands an' castin' spells," Hagrid said firmly.

Mr. Malfoy glared at this interruption, but he did put his wand away, seeing the surrounding crowd for the first time. "Perhaps we could finish this another time," he suggested silkily.

Mr. Weasley's expression changed from anger to a beatific smile. "Certainly. Ron, Ginny, we're going."

Harry's enemy glared at him, but there was really nothing to be done. He helped his sister pick up her cauldron and carry it off. Hagrid watched them leave. Then he nodded to the Slytherins and walked away as well.

"You should have hexed him, Father," Draco said disappointedly.

"Silence, Draco," his father commanded. "Where is your brother?"

"I'm right here," Elan said, handing Draco a bag full of books. "Harry's Standard Book of Spells is in there too."

"Good," Mr. Malfoy said. "If you all have your books, then I suggest we finish up your shopping. Draco, don't you need new robes?"

That was clearly an imperative. "Yes, I do," Draco answered. "We all do, actually. Where shall we meet you?"

"The Leaky Cauldron. Make sure not to dawdle."

"I will," Draco promised. "Er, I mean I won't. Or-"

"You will make sure not to dawdle," Mr. Malfoy corrected him. "And don't forget the Apothecary."

Madam Malkin was pleased to see them returning to her shop. Leaving her assistant Alice to attend to Draco, she waited on Harry herself, just as she had a year ago.

Draco grinned at Harry. "And now we've come full circle," he said.

Harry nodded. "It's been an interesting year," he commented.

"That it has," Draco agreed. "But a good one."

"Oh yes," Harry said fervently. "I wouldn't trade this last year for anything."

"Me neither. I'm glad we became friends, Harry," Draco told him.

Harry smiled. "Me too."

When their robes were finished, the two boys stocked up on Potions ingredients at the Apothecary. A fresh supply of ink and parchment rounded out the shopping trip. Elan had vanished at some point, so they carried their packages to the Leaky Cauldron unescorted.

They sat down with Mr. Malfoy, who had regained his good humour, and Mrs. Malfoy, who apologized for her own disappearing act. She had seen an old friend heading into Ollivander's and had spent several hours catching up.

Elan finally joined them when Mr. Malfoy was on his third glass of wine. He said nothing as his eldest son sat down. Harry could see traces of smudged lipstick on Elan's face, and he grinned, knowing why the older boy had been late.

Mr. Malfoy had taken the best table in the whole pub, and now he snapped his fingers for service. Several young men hurried over and began taking meal orders. When they had all ordered, Mr. Malfoy inquired after the boys' summer homework and how much of it they had left to do.

"Almost none," Draco assured his father. "Just a dratted essay for Binns."

"History is very important, Draco," Mr. Malfoy said chidingly. "If we do not learn from our history, we are doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past."

He queried Harry with a glance. "I've started my Transfiguration," Harry answered. "I'm going to work on the rest of it when we get back."

Mr. Malfoy nodded. "That's good. If you need any help, I will be glad to advise you."

"Thank you, sir."

"Mr. Potter?" It was a woman's voice coming from just over Harry's shoulder. He turned to see an older woman standing there. He knew her. She'd been a patron of the Leaky Cauldron when he'd first come here with Hagrid.

"How are you, ma'am?" he asked politely. "Mrs.?"

"Crockford, sir, Doris Crockford. You may not remember me, but-"

"I remember you," Harry assured her. "You kept coming up to shake hands."

"Please forgive me, sir," Doris Crockford asked of him, shaking her head. "I was just so overwhelmed by meeting you. I hope you weren't too dreadfully embarrassed."

Harry smiled at her. "Not at all. It's good to see you again."

"Oh, aren't you a dear for saying so," she tittered. "I also read that horrible lie in Saturday's Prophet," she continued, glancing at the Malfoys, "and Ms. Skeeter's article yesterday. I think it's disgraceful how you had to put up with that sort of treatment. I don't know what kind of humans those Muggles call themselves, but they certainly don't make the grade in my book," she huffed.

"Thank you, ma'am," Harry said.

"I was wondering," Doris Crockford said to him. "What is your favourite kind of bickie? I'm going to be doing some baking tomorrow, and I'll make a batch especially for you."

Harry felt this was entirely excessive, but Elan's message from earlier in the day echoed in his head: Never turn down anything free.

"Chocolate chip," he replied. He did like sweets, and if she went overboard, he could always share.

Doris Crockford nodded in a satisfied manner. "I make wonderful chocolate chip cookies. I'll send them out, and you'll get them still hot."

"That would be very nice," Harry said to her. "Thank you so much."

"Thank you, Mr. Potter." Doris Crockford shook his hand and went back to her table.

"Yay for sweets," Draco observed. "I love chocolate chip too."

Doris Crockford was not the only well-wisher to come up to Harry. Once she had broken the ice, as it were, others approached to tell Harry how thankful they were that he was alive and well. A tiny man wearing a violet top hat stepped closer, and Harry actually got to his feet.

"Mister Diggle!" he exclaimed.

Dedalus Diggle jumped in shock, and his top hat fell to the floor. Harry bent down to pick it up as it rolled to a stop. He held it out to the small man who accepted it with trembling fingers.

"Mister Potter, you've quite honoured me," he said. "To remember me twice now, I'm quite overcome." He bowed quite deeply. "I merely wanted to pay my respects. If you ever need a friend, Dedalus Diggle is at your service."

Mr. Malfoy had not quite a sneer on his face as he watched Diggle depart. "Diggle," he said in a loaded tone. "A great fool if there ever was one."

"He seems nice," Harry protested. Diggle had bowed to him once in a shop even before Harry had known about the wizarding world or why he was so famous.

"He's an impractical fool," Mr. Malfoy reiterated. "Completely given over to ostentatious gestures. I wouldn't rely on him in any sort of meaningful capacity."

* * *

When they arrived back at Malfoy Manor, Harry received quite a shock. His bedroom was a mess of letters and packages! He opened up one of the letters and saw that it was from a Mrs. Littan.

"'So sorry for what you've gone through,'" he read. "'Best wishes, don't let the Muggles get you down.'" He looked at Draco. "What is all this?"

"It's probably all from people who read the Prophet yesterday," Draco replied. "You are ruddy famous, you know."

Harry opened up one of the packages. Inside he found a container of home-made macaroni and cheese. The note was from a Mrs. Harwood and said that no boy should have to go hungry.

"Is it all like this?" he wondered.

"Probably," Draco told him. "You won't have to worry about good eating for awhile."

"Not like I have to worry about it while I'm here," Harry pointed out.

"This is also true," Draco admitted. "Hey, look!"

"What?"

"This package is from Weasley's mother!"

"You're kidding!" Harry was astonished. Of all the people who could have sent him presents, a Weasley was the last he expected.

"Open it up. Let's see what's inside," Draco told him.

Inside turned out to be a tin of pot roast. It smelled absolutely heavenly.

"I bet it would just kill Weasley to know that his mum sent you food," Draco laughed. "We should tell him."

"It's still warm," Harry marvelled.

"It must be maaaagic!" Draco drawled, wiggling his fingers at Harry.

Harry shoved the hand aside. "Very funny."

"Let's have a bit," Draco suggested. "It at least smells good."

The pot roast tasted just as good as it smelled. Despite having eaten a large dinner, they quickly devoured the contents of the tin, right down to the last drop of gravy.

Draco groaned and put his hands on his belly. "That was delicious," he confessed. "Maybe being a Weasley isn't so bad if they get to eat like that every night."

"They probably don't," Harry said. "Not with the odd dozen kids they've got."

"Right, how silly of me."

Harry opened more letters, and they were all variations on a theme. 'Dear Mr. Potter, it's a shame about those Muggles, enjoy my wonderful cooking.' Signed, Mrs. Nesbit, Mrs. Wenlock, Mrs. Corey, and so on.

When he'd opened all the pacakges, Harry thought he had enough food to feed a small army, or Crabbe and Goyle, for a week.

"How am I ever going to eat all this?" he demanded.

"We'll invite Goyle and Crabbe over tomorrow. I'm sure they'll be glad to help."

"Don't those two get fed at home?" Harry asked. He was amused to discover that Draoc had been thinking thoughts similar to his own.

"Of course they do," Draco scoffed. "How else do you think they got that big?"

"Well, my cousin Dudley is huge. And Uncle Vernon is pretty big too."

"It's a combination," Draco said. "Crabbe and Goyle Senior are big men. And they like to eat, so there's always lots of food around. Vincent and Greg just grew up that way."

Harry looked around the room. Stacks of containers covered every available surface and a decent portion of the floor. "I don't have to keep this all here, do I?"

"No, I'll get one of the house elves." Draco snapped his fingers. With a crack like a whip, one of the little creatures appeared. "Take all this food to the kitchens," Draco ordered. "Put it separate from the regular food and label the shelf with Harry Potter's name."

The elf bowed low and waved its hands. The packages rose into the air and followed the elf as it silently left the room. All that remained was a pile of letters.

"I suppose I should reply to all of these," he said glumly. There were dozens of letters. It would take all day tomorrow.

"Why bother?" Draco asked. "They didn't do it because they wanted a reply. They wrote and sent food because they felt bad for you. Send a few if you like, but by and large, no one will be waiting breathlessly for a thank you note."

That flip attitude didn't really sit well with Harry. He made up his mind that he would at least send a brief note to everyone who had sent him food. Those women had put some time into their cooking. It would be very rude to not acknowledge that effort.

* * *

Harry woke early the next morning as the dawn sunlight streamed into the room. Yawning, he stepped out onto the balcony and took a deep breath of fresh air. The air was cool with the promise of clear skies all day. It was perfect weather for playing Quidditch.

Regretfully, he turned his back on the light and sat at the desk to write. Writing all those thank you notes took as long as he had feared, and his stomach was rumbling by the time was finished. He'd missed breakfast.

"Harry?" That was Draco knocking on his door. "Harry, are you all right?"

"Come in," Harry called.

Draco stepped across the threshold. "Is everything well?" he asked.

"I'm fine," Harry assured him. "I've just been writing thank you notes."

Draco stared at him queerly. "By hand?"

"As opposed to?"

"Mum's got a miming quill," Draco informed him. "You write the letter once, and it will remember what you wrote. You just set it up on a new piece of parchment, and it will write another copy. Then you only have to go through and add the names. It's perfect for invitations, thank you notes, and so on."

Harry sighed exasperatedly. "And you didn't feel it necessary to tell me about this last night?"

"You didn't ask. If you'd told me you were going to write these things anyway..."

Harry pushed his quill away in disgust.

Draco shook his head. "It's a waste of time anyway," he pronounced. "And you missed breakfast."

"I'm aware of that. I was thinking of having some of my food. How do I get one of those elves to bring it up for me?"

"Just snap your fingers. They'll show, if they know what's good for them."

Harry snapped his fingers. Sure enough, a house elf appeared with a loud cracking noise. "Yes, sir?" it said in a trembling voice. Harry looked to Draco, and his friend nodded encouragingly.

"Bring me some of my fried potatoes," Harry told it.

"And be sure to heat them up," Draco added. "If they're even a tiny bit cold, we shall be very displeased."

The elf shuddered. "Oh yes, sirs. Nibby will bring the potatoes, and they will be hot, sirs."

"And two glasses of pumpkin juice," Draco snapped. The elf vanished as noisily as it had come.

"You have to specify everything with house elves," Draco sighed. "It would have brought stone cold potatoes, no fork, no juice. You'd be lucky to get a plate. They have their uses, but elves are very limited. You get a few smart ones here and there, but they're generally very simple. They can follow a recipe though, so they make excellent cooks."

Before Harry could reply to that, the elf appeared in the room again, holding two plates of steaming fried potatoes. Two glasses of pumpkin juice floated nearby. The potatoes were very good, and as soon as the meal was finished, the elf took the plates away.

"So what shall we do today?" Draco asked brightly.

"I need to get my homework done." Harry was half looking forward to it and half not.

"Ick." Draco made a face. "Well, why not leave it for tonight? We can call up the others and have a nice game of Quidditch."

"All afternoon?" Harry asked. That prospect was infinitely more appealing than homework.

"Sure. Why not."

* * *

And that's how things went for the rest of the summer holiday. In the mornings, Harry would explore both the manor and the grounds with Draco. In the afternoons, they would play Quidditch with their friends. In the evenings, Harry would study his books.

He threw himself into his school work with vigour. Working together with Draco, he quickly finished the History of Magic essay for Professor Binns. On his own he eventually completed the assignments for his other classes. He found the manor's library to be of inestimable value.

Mr. Malfoy had shown him a large map of Europe once while he'd been studying in the library. Elan's new school, Durmstrang, was in northern Europe, in part of the former Soviet Union known as Kaliningrad. It would be cold there, part of the reason the red school robes were made of heavy wool.

Elan himself spent most of his time shut up in his room moping. He came out only for meals, though Harry once saw him studying in the library. He was ostensibly hard at work on his summer assignments, but Harry wasn't sure how much he was getting done.

It was rather a lousy deal, Harry reflected. Elan had done all his work for his classes at Hogwarts, and now it was wasted effort. Or so he assumed. He hadn't raised the subject with Elan during any of the brief moments he'd spent in the older boy's company. Harry still didn't know what, if anything, he should say.

It was difficult to imagine what Hogwarts would be like without the blond prefect around. Harry felt bad for the new Slytherin first years; they wouldn't have Elan to guide them around the castle, help them with school work, or tuck them in after a bad dream.

Elan's depression weighed on Harry, but he had many other things to occupy him during his summer holiday. Days flashed by almost without notice, so it was a bit of a shock when Mr. Malfoy informed the boys that they would be leaving for London in the morning.

to be continued...