They Shook Hands: Year Three (Original Version)

Dethryl

Story Summary:
Harry Potter's summer holiday has been anything but fun. He's been treated like a common criminal by the Muggles. His circumstances don't begin to improve when he finally breaks out, for one of Voldemort's strongest supporters has likewise escaped, from Azkaban, the most secure place in England. The mad Sirius Black killed thirteen people with a single curse and is now believed to be after Harry. The Ministry of Magic takes drastic security measures, but what can stop the first man to elude the dreaded Dementors? Harry Potter is not safe, even within the walls of Hogwarts, for rumours are told that a traitor may well be in their midst.

Chapter 03 - Malfoy Manor

Chapter Summary:
Harry has made it safely to Malfoy Manor, but what about the Muggles he hexed? Will Ministry officials be coming to take him away? Harry's reuinion with his friends is cut short by the awful neccessity of homework, but they need their new schoolbooks to get it all done. Where do they go? Why, Diagon Alley, of course! But when Harry steps into the Floo Network, something goes horribly wrong, and the place he ends up is most definitely not Diagon Alley.
Posted:
04/13/2007
Hits:
3,937
Author's Note:
All chapters are posted on Schnoogle. All chapters and some juicy extras are posted on

They Shook Hands : Year Three

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

Chapter Three - Malfoy Manor

"You manky, Scots git!"

Harry came awake with a jarring shock. He turned wide eyes towards the door and saw Draco, his best mate in the world, standing with his fists on his hips.

"What did I do?"

"Setting off the traps? Earning me a lecture from Father for not telling you the key to the front door? I would have, if you'd told me you were coming, prat."

Harry snorted. "Jolly hard to do that when they lock your messenger in his cage."

Draco's offended manner dropped instantly. "They didn't," he breathed.

"Oh yes. Me, too, in case you were wondering where I've been since school got out."

"How'd you get out?"

Harry smirked in a self-satisfied manner. "Draco, my friend, have a seat. Now, you know why I went back. I ended up having to take the train out to Surrey because they didn't pick me up. So I had to drag my trunk from the station to Privet Drive. I'm absolutely knackered by the time I arrive, and it's getting dark. I made a few threats, washed, and went to bed."

"Uh oh."

"Uh oh," Harry agreed. "When I woke up, Regal was locked up, I was locked up, and they'd taken my wand."

"No!"

"Let out once a day to whiz, but locked up in that cell! The most horrible food! The heat! It was awful!"

"How did you escape?"

"Uncle Vernon's sister Marge came to visit. She hates me too, but she doesn't know about magic. I was threatened all kinds of awful to behave, but I snuck away, found my wand, and hexed the lot."

"Good show!" Draco cheered. "Wait, hexed? You hexed the Muggles?"

Harry nodded slowly.

The strange look Draco was giving Harry made his skin crawl. "What?" he asked, just to break the sudden silence.

"How did it feel?" Draco's question was very matter-of-fact.

Harry didn't hesitate. "Righteous. It felt absolutely righteous."

Now Draco nodded slowly. "You've had a taste, now, of what sort of treatment wizards got from Muggles in the old days, and how wizards had to protect themselves. You understand. But the old days were gone well before either of us was born, and you're likely in a lot of trouble."

"I know. I already sent a letter to your dad, but I haven't talked with him yet."

"He ought to be down at breakfast by now. Hungry?"

"Always."

Harry splashed some water on his face. He would have a full bath later, but he needed food more urgently. He was at least mostly presentable when he gave in to the growling of his stomach and headed for the dining room.

The entire Malfoy family was seated and enjoying breakfast when Harry arrived. Harry went directly to Mr. Malfoy, who was sipping at his coffee.

"Sir, I'm in a lot of trouble."

The elder man smiled confidently. "Oh, not all that much, I wager."

"Mister Malfoy, I hexed the Muggles."

"We'll give you a medal for that later."

"I hexed Aunt Marge, and she didn't even know about magic."

Mr. Malfoy was smiling in the self-satisfied way that all Malfoys seemed able. "It was fortunate, then, that I placed some of my friends in the Improper Use of Magic Office. After the stories you told me of how the Muggles treated you, I suspected you would soon reach a breaking point. Then those Dursleys would get what they fully deserved. When the Monitoring Charms went off, my people were able to keep everything quiet. No reports were made. I suspect a few of them even cheered you on."

"What about the Muggles then? They're still- I mean they haven't been- umm- fixed."

"Why is that a problem?" Mr. Malfoy asked with artful confusion.

Harry squirmed. "Well, it's not, per se, but-"

"They've learned their lesson, which is what you wanted, and I expect an owl at any moment informing me that the damage has been undone. It all has to be done quietly, you understand."

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Malfoy waved him towards the nearest chair, and Harry quickly loaded his plate.

"So tell me, Harry, how did you arrive so quickly? You got here before your owl did."

"Accidentally hailed the Knight Bus," he answered around a bite of eggs. "Figured it would be quicker and safer than the train. Guess who the driver was! Arthur Weasley!"

"Don't talk with you mouth full, dear," Mrs. Malfoy admonished him.

"Sorry."

The corners of Mr. Malfoy's mouth slowly turned up in a vaguely wicked smile. "How -- amusing. I could have easily seen him sacked from the Ministry altogether, but it is far more delicious to enjoy his humiliation and despair."

"Like father, like son," Draco chimed in. "The Weasley in our form is a constant source of entertainment."

"Do you remember when Longbottom melted Weasley's cauldron for the dozenth time and Snape started shouting at them?"

"One of his finest moments," Draco agreed. Harry wasn't sure if he meant Weasley, Longbottom, or Snape. He could easily have meant all three.

"So if I'm not in trouble with the law, what are we doing today?"

"We could play some Quidditch," Draco posed. "I'm supposed to make a fire call to the rest of the gang after lunch."

"I'd love to play Quidditch. When I was locked up, I would sit on my broom and just hover."

"Why tease yourself?"

"Because if I was flying, then I wasn't a Muggle."

"Well let's go flying at least," Draco said. "That is, you can fly, and I'll limp along pathetically on an old broom."

"Subtle," Elan commented, his first words since Harry arrived at the table.

Draco made a face at his older brother. "Or you could let me borrow your Nimbus and you can catch up with Elan. He'll be glad to tell you all about Durmstrang."

"Maybe another time?" Harry queried. Durmstrang did sound very interesting, but Harry was more interested in open sky.

"Whenever you like, Harry. Good to see you again."

"And you."

"May I be excused, please?"

"Yes, Draco. You boys have fun."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

They ended up playing no Quidditch at all.

Harry's friends were all appropriately astounded at the tale of his escape from Privet Drive. Each and every one of them expressed how very concerned he or she had been when Harry hadn't immediately shown up at Malfoy Manor (or at any of their homes, for that matter) following the train ride home from Hogwarts. Blaise Zabini was so delighted to see him that she wouldn't let go of his arm for fifteen minutes. They discussed the severe trouble Harry should have landed in, admired the genius of Draco's father, and then put the subject behind them.

It didn't matter to Harry what they talked about, just so long as it was wizardly. His new resolution to rid his life of all things Muggle was joined by a realization that he needed to learn more, much more, about the wizarding world.

"Are there any good bands going around this summer?" he asked. Draco had introduced him to some wizard music groups over the last summer, but he couldn't recall much about them.

"Celestina Warbeck has a few shows in Scotland," Pansy Parkinson said. "Her new song Splinched gets played on the wireless every hour."

"I haven't heard a wireless since last summer," Harry told her. "How does it go?"

"'Can't get my love together, hear it in my voice. Can't get my love together, just cannot make a choice. Can't get my love together, can't make the pieces fit. Can't get my love together, feel absolutely splinched.'"

Pansy's voice was still a lovely soprano. She was one of the minor stars of the Hogwarts School Choir, destined to move on to greater solo roles as older girls left school. Harry admired how effortlessly she filled the air with clear song.

"Beautiful, Pansy," praised Jenna Moon.

"Such a girl song," Tim said derisively. "If you want real hard tunes, Harry, you've got to come with me to see Wand Smasher."

"He'll go deaf from that noise," Pansy snapped back. "And plenty of boys listen to Celestina."

"Only the nancy boys," Draco added.

"Smasher is good stuff," Crabbe contributed. Neither he nor Goyle was saying much today; both boys had hit puberty, and their voices were cracking more than a broken mirror.

"You would like it," Pansy tossed back.

"Hey, I like Wand Smasher too," Millie Bulstrode piped up.

"It's barbaric screaming over fast guitar playing."

"So?"

Pansy threw her hands up in defeat.

"Wand Smasher is playing next month, right before we go back to school. Dad says he's too old for music that loud, but he's letting me take my own broom out. And!" Tim exclaimed with a triumphant look. "No curfew!"

Everyone gasped in amazement. Tim looked very proud of himself. It was quite a feat, no curfew, at only age thirteen.

"The show starts early," Tim said a bit more calmly, "which means it gets out early."

"Probably the only reason he's letting you go," Jenna laughed cynically.

"Probably," he admitted. "But I don't care. I get to go by myself. That's the huge part."

"Not by yourself," Harry told him. "I'm going with you. A night out with no adults? Count me in."

"Father will never let me," Draco lamented. "Unless I could get Elan to go too."

"Then Jamie would want to go," Blaise sighed. "She's still stuck on him, but he hasn't come to see her more than a handful of times since he got back from Durmstrang. I can't even talk to her any more."

"He's been around a lot more than last summer," Draco informed her. "Much less time up in his room writing lovesick letters."

"If he's going to break up with her, he should have the decency to just do it," Blaise huffed. "I hate seeing her all mopey. It was bad enough during last school year."

Jamie Zabini's moping had been tiresome for everyone who had had to deal with the girl. About the only time she had been her bubbly old self was when she'd taken over Professor Snape's Potions lecture for an afternoon.

"Well, if Father should, by some chance, allow us to go, we don't need to tell her."

"But then I won't get to go!"

"I didn't know you wanted to."

"Well maybe I do!"

"What else is going on?" Harry interrupted.

"Not much, I'm afraid," Jenna told him. "It seems all the good musicians are in a writing phase. Next summer ought to be a phenomenal time, but that's a whole year away."

"Curses," Harry said, disappointed.

"We could practice curses, if you like. But we're not supposed to do magic outside of school."

Harry groaned along with the rest of his friends. No matter the subject, Jenna always managed to get in the last word.

"Well, that rule really only is applied to students who don't come from all-magic families," Tim enlightened them all. "I imagine your father, Draco, would freak if the Ministry tried to place the detection Charms around this place."

Draco guffawed. "Oh, I can see the carnage now."

"Speaking of students and school, how's everyone coming on their homework?" Pansy wanted to know. "I haven't even started yet."

"I'm nearly done," Blaise said, to the surprise of no one. The blonde girl was one of the brightest witches in their form.

"That's disgusting," Jenna groaned. "How can you be done?"

"I've had a curfew this summer," she complained. "With that Sirius Black escaping from Azkaban, my mum and dad are paranoid that he's going to come knocking."

"He wouldn't knock," Draco interjected.

"Duh. And I can't talk to Jamie any more, so there's nothing left but to get my homework done. I have no idea what I'm going to do when I finish it all."

"You could go mad," Tim suggested.

"Already half there, thanks."

Out of reflexive habit, Harry looked at his watch. "How did it get this late?" he asked rhetorically.

The others checked and began complaining. It was getting close on to supper time, and everyone had to go home. Nobody wanted to, but there was nothing for it.

"I'm not the least bit hungry," Crabbe rued.

"That's got to be a first," Draco noted.

"Not feeling well, fathead?" Tim needled him.

"My head's not fat!"

* * *

Harry decided that he ought to take a look at his homework that night. It was depressing, in a way, but it would have been dishonest to try to pretend that it didn't exist. It had to get done sooner or later, so he might as well get it out of the way. And it was well he did open his folder, because the assignment from old McGonagall was monstrous.

They would soon be learning about transfiguring larger objects. It wasn't soon enough until sixth year and Advanced Transfiguration that they would begin to learn about human transformations, which was what sounded very entertaining to Harry. "I can't wait until I can give myself a forked tongue to mouth back at the old bat," he declared. He and Draco were sitting in the Malfoy library with their books spread before them on the table.

Draco's laugh echoed down the stacks. "Oh that's priceless! What about snake eyes?"

"Even better! I wonder if Elan knows this sort of advanced magic," Harry mused.

"Of course I do," the elder Malfoy son retorted, stepping out from between the shelves.

Draco shook his head. "How does he do that?"

"It's a talent," the young man replied. "Anyway, Harry, the sort of transfiguration you're talking about is pretty advanced stuff. I think it would be too dangerous for you to try. If it went wrong, it could be horrible for you. Best to wait until you're back at Hogwarts and Madam Pomfrey can fix you up if anything goes awry."

"Then I'm going to need a book to learn from."

"I'll find you a copy of my text when we head to Diagon Alley."

"Which I think might need to be soon," Draco said. "I don't think we can properly do these assignments without our new books."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "I've never even heard of this Cheering Charm that Flitwick has us researching."

"I think I heard Terry mention it once, but I don't recall entirely."

"Good evening, boys," Mr. Malfoy greeted them as he strode into the library.

"Hello, Father," the brothers said, while Harry addressed the man by his courtesy.

"How goes the homework?"

"Badly," Draco said with bluntness. "We need our new books. Sinistra is calling for specific citations."

"I hadn't planned for the trip until the end of the month, but if you need the books, we can go tomorrow."

"Thank you, Father."

Since they couldn't really do their homework, they decided to look for interesting books in the shelves. Harry was immersed in Nasty, Nasty Magical Tricks looking up things to do to Ronald Weasley when Draco thumped a heavy book down, causing him to jump in surprise.

"I found the pictures of Grandfather Malfoy," Draco announced.

"Look at this," Harry ignored him. "This curse can be put in any cloth object. We could put it in a coin purse and leave it for Weasley to find."

"Brill," Draco agreed. "What's it do?"

"Causes money to fall out of your hand for a week. You can't touch it at all."

"Since Weasley doesn't touch money in the first place, there's no real point in that."

"But if he ever did?" Harry asked. "He'd go mad."

"Too right. Mark that page."

"So what've you got?"

"Abraxas Elan Malfoy. This album was put together by my NaNaNe."

"Who?"

"Grandmother. Her name was Cielle, but I always called her NaNaNe. She and Grandfather both died of the dragon pox when I was three. This is their wedding picture."

"You do know he looks entirely silly in that hat?"

"You wouldn't have wanted to tell him that," Draco warned. "He was supposedly a mean old bastard."

"How can you say such a thing?"

"Elan told me."

"Why would he say such a thing?"

"Because it's true," the elder Malfoy brother said, sitting down in an armchair.

"I borrowed his wand once -- just to look at it, I swear."

"A likely story," Draco said.

"Maybe cast a small spell. There was a rock I quite wanted to do things to, as I recall. But before I could even get out of the room, he roared like a dragon and grabbed me by my neck."

"What'd he do?" Harry was curious.

"He dragged me out to the garden and thrashed me," Elan shrugged. "It was a good one, too. I've never touched anyone's wand but my own since."

* * *

The next morning, Harry was so excited that he was the first person awake at Malfoy Manor. The sun was still half-hidden behind the hill that was the eastern edge of the estate. With so much time to spare, he claimed the shower for an hour.

The water here, like at Hogwarts, was always the perfect temperature. Deprived of any luxury by the Muggles, he'd grown to love bathing at school: being able to simply relax under the torrential spray seemed akin to Heaven. After Quidditch matches and practices, Harry would spend ages under the nozzle if he had the leisure.

Harry regretfully shut off the water when Draco pounded on the door. He towelled off thoroughly and pulled his dressing gown back on before opening the door.

Draco was standing in the corridor with an impatient attitude, but he started coughing as he got a faceful of the steam billowing out of the bathroom.

"Blimey, Harry," he gasped. "The sauna's down on the ground floor."

"It wasn't hot enough," Harry retorted. "That needs to be looked at."

Draco coughed again. "I can't see a thing."

Harry chose to ignore that comment and strode past Draco, down the hall. The fine rug was deliciously pleasant to his bare feet. He jumped across the hardwood gap between the rugs and continued on.

The day looked as though it were going to be very pleasant, so Harry decided to wear just his robes. It would probably be much too warm with both robes and trousers. He'd worn just his pants under his robes at Christmas, when hundreds of people had been packed into Parkinson Place. The heat there had been almost oppressive at times. Diagon Alley, with the sun shining directly on black robes was likely to be worse.

He pulled out a sheet of parchment from his trunk and dipped one of his raven feather quills into the pot of ink on the desk. Robes, he wrote. Black wool for school. His school robes were about an inch and a half short on his wrist now. New hat. Green everyday. Black everyday. Something for Christmas. He'd had to borrow dress robes for the Christmas party, and Harry wanted clothes that wouldn't squeeze his neck. He'd need white for New Year's, he realized, writing it down. There was no way he was going to have all of these ready tomorrow.

"I'll just take the everyday and let her send me the rest," he decided.

His list for school ought to be arriving this morning, he figured. In any case, the bookshop would know. What else do I need?

Professor Snape, who taught Harry's favourite subject, Potions, had stressed the need for the highest quality of ingredients when potionmaking. He scribbled down several things he needed to replenish. He really ought to pitch his beetle eyes, he noticed. Half of them were a slimy goo. He added doxwood and lobridoon to his list.

Regal hooted at him from his perch on top of the cage. Owl treats, he scrawled. Live mice.

What did he need in Quality Quidditch Supplies? He checked his tin of broom polish. It was nearly empty: Harry took excellent care of his prized racing broom.

The Nimbus 2000 had been as good as new when he'd gotten it back from being repaired. During his last Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, the Seeker, Cedric Diggory, had pulled a sneaky play on him, and Harry and his broom had come off second-best.

Several of the twigs in the tail were growing wild, so he included a trimming kit on his list as well. Harry wondered if any new model brooms had come out yet. He and Draco would probably waste several hours in the store.

Harry wiped off his quill and put it away. He sprinkled sand across the parchment to dry the ink and rolled it up. Tucking the scroll into a pocket of his robes, Harry turned his attention to the mirror.

As always, his thick, black hair looked absolutely wild. He picked up his comb and ran it through a few half-hearted motions. He didn't expect an effect, any more than any other time he had tried to tidy his hair. To his shock, the damp hair stayed where he put it! Harry couldn't believe it. He did it again. The hair stayed!

"Finally!" he exclaimed. He combed it forward, smoothing from the back of his head. He didn't want to risk mucking it up and looking silly. It actually looked quite decent. Harry grinned at his reflection.

Harry suddenly felt a tingling on his scalp. He scratched his temple, but it didn't go away. He was looking right in the mirror and saw clearly -- his hair lifted up all on its own and smoothed toward the left!

There were no words for this situation. As he stared in the mirror, trying to make sense of what had happened, his hair lifted up again! This time it flopped to the right!

What was going on here? He looked around, wondering if Draco might be playing a trick on him. His hair rearranged itself again, and Harry turned back to see that he now had a part running down the centre of his head!

Boggled, Harry reached up and mussed his hair with both hands. He stopped and peered into the mirror with heavy breaths, waiting. His hair stayed messy.

"Unbelievable," he muttered.

His wand sheath went on special loop on his robes, and Harry felt that he was properly attired. He drew out the key to his Gringott's vault and tucked it into his pocket. His moneypouch, light as it was, he tied inside. It would be full soon enough, and then well on its way to being empty again shortly after.

It was time for breakfast, and Harry hurried down to the dining room where Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were already at the table. "Good morning," he said cheerfully as he joined them.

"Good morning, Harry," Mr. Malfoy replied.

"Good morning, dear."

Elan entered the very moment he sat and immediately began loading his plate. "Mother, Father, Harry, a good morning to you."

"Good morning, son."

Harry couldn't decide which was better; the omelet or the fried potatoes. The omelet was filled with cheese and bacon, ham, sausage, onion and basil. The fried potatoes were cut into small pieces and tossed with bacon pieces, crumbled sausage, onion, and sprinkled with cheese.

"Are you ready to depart after breakfast?" Elan's father asked.

"I need to eat quick and then get in the shower when Draco's through." Elan said around a mouthful of food. He swallowed quickly and wolfed another huge bite.

"Not before noon, then, I suppose."

Harry grinned. Draco combed his hair very often, and would spend enormous quantities of time in front of a mirror if he could. It was the rare occurrence that Draco did not have a comb in the pocket of his robes.

"I'm here," Harry's best mate announced as he sat down at the table. "Hi Elan. Bye Elan."

Elan drew his wand. "Totenmaske!" he exclaimed, pointing the tip up to his nose.

A hideous grin began stretching across Elan's face! His eyes bulged out of their sockets, inflating to the size of softballs! His tongue swelled up, turning bright purple! Harry jumped in his seat at the sight.

"Elan!" Mrs. Malfoy screamed.

His face quickly returned to normal as he spoke another German word. He turned a now apologetic face to his mother. "I'm sorry, Mother. I should not have made faces at the table."

"Is that what they teach you at Durmstrang?" Mr. Malfoy asked, his tone very disdainful. He was looking at his eldest son with an irritated expression.

Elan's reply was very casual. "It's one thing of many that I've had to learn in order to gain acceptance. I managed to befriend the leader of the boys in my form, but if I was going to be one of them, I had to do what they were doing. I learned that bit of Transfiguration this one time when we ran around the castle scaring people."

"And why was this time not spent in study?"

"As I said, Father, I was establishing connections and making alliances. If I hadn't participated, that would not be possible."

"So long as it continues to pose no threat to your studies. Your marks will continue to be excellent. And if you should wind up in trouble, you-"

"It's all harmless, Father!" Elan protested in a placating voice.

"See that it stays that way."

"Yes, Father."

"Go bathe, and do not take as long as your brother. I want us to be departing in thirty minutes."

"I didn't take that long," Draco spoke up.

"This time," Harry said by way of greeting as Elan left to go upstairs.

"Hello, Harry. Good morning, Mother, Father."

"Son," they said together.

Harry couldn't help but gulp his pumpkin juice in his excitement. Soon he'd be strolling down the length of Diagon Alley! He almost wanted to go immediately and meet the Malfoys later. That was a horribly rude idea, of course.

When they were all assembled in front of the fireplace in the lounge, Harry reached for the Floo powder first. "Diagonalley!" he said hurriedly.

With a sickening jolt, Harry felt himself spinning. I don't think I'll ever get used to travelling this way, he thought.

Harry felt a wave of vertigo wash over him, and he tumbled over, landing on a stone floor with a jarring thud. His glasses flew off, leaving him blinded. He groped around for them and returned them to his face.

He was alone, wherever here was. Harry knew he'd never seen this place before. The place appeared to be some sort of dimly lit wizards' shop, but Harry was certain that nothing for sale here was ever likely to be on a Hogwarts school list.

A glass case nearby held a withered hand on a cushion, a blood-stained pack of playing cards, and a staring glass eye. Evil-looking masks stared down from the walls, an assortment of human bones lay upon the counter, and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling. Even worse, the narrow, dark street Harry could see through the dirty shop window was definitely not Diagon Alley.

to be continued...


They Shook Hands is my AU version of the Harry Potter series. This is Year Three. Please read Year One and Year Two before you read this story, otherwise very little will make sense to you. You can join my Yahoo group Deth By Fanfiction to participate in an open forum for discussing all things about this fic. Chapter updates go out here first before I post to Schnoogle. My beta reader is the wonderfully talented Christi. This fic would not be nearly as good as it is without her help. She's stuck with me through thick and thin, even when life has been crazy for both of us. Other beta readers have come and gone, yet she endures. Much <3 goes out to the very masochistic Christi!