What If?

Chapter Three

The next few weeks passed quickly. Harry was always grateful for Draco's help in any subjects he had trouble in; the blonde boy was extremely intelligent, the second smartest student in the first year. Only the Muggle-born Granger, with her beaver teeth, was higher than him, as he put it. Lucius Malfoy did not like this at all. He was constantly sending his son letters instructing him forcefully to bring up his grades to beat the "disgusting Mudblood". Senior Malfoy didn't think it appropriate that a girl with Muggle parentage should be considered smarter than his son, a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself.

Narcissa Malfoy, however, didn't particularly care whether Draco's grades were higher than Granger's or not. She had replied to Draco's owl with the following:

My dearest son,

Yes, I am well. How are you faring at your new school? I'm pleased to hear that you've made lots of new friends. I knew you would, dear. How are Vincent, Gregory, Blaise, Pansy and all of your other old friends? I hope they are enjoying Hogwarts as much as you are. Don't pay any mind to the other houses; they are just jealous because Slytherins are intelligent, and they don't like being beaten all the time, so they decide to blame it on cheating. It's terrible, really.

Of course Harry can come and live with us. I've never liked Muggles; this has only heightened my dislike of the foul creatures. I'm looking forward to meeting him during the Christmas holidays. I've charmed the room next to yours so that there is a passage between your rooms. Give Harry my best wishes, and tell him that I'd be charmed to have him live with us.

I must go, Draco darling. Your father and I are hosting a dinner party tonight. I hope you continue to have fun at Hogwarts, and I look forward to seeing you in a month, at the start of December.

Your mother,

Narcissa.

Draco had grinned at Harry when he received the letter.

"I told you she'd say yes."

Harry smiled gratefully at Draco.'

Thank you so much, Draco. I don't think you'll ever understand what you've done for me.

Draco waved a hand dismissively.

It's nothing. I'll enjoy having you there too, you know, so it's as much my gain as it is yours.

Harry had laughed, shaken his head and turned back to his breakfast. He still found it hard to believe that it was already Halloween. It was only a month before they finished for Christmas break. Harry had settled into his routine quickly; he was definitely enjoying all of his classes. His best subject was Potions, with Professor Snape, his Head of House. He was also the best student in the class. Although his professor had seemed somewhat hostile at first - Harry had asked Draco, who had said because of a fierce rivalry between Snape and Harry's father when they were at school together - he had become a lot more friendly after he had muttered in undertones whilst inspecting Harry's potion "You're nothing like your father. Good." Later, Severus had mentioned that Slytherins had to stick together, against the rest of the school, who often showed open hostility to members of the serpentine House. Even though this had unnerved Harry quite a bit at the beginning of the year, he had become used to the harsh looks and whispers when various people had spotted the Slytherin badge worn proudly on his robes. He was proud of being a Slytherin, even if no one else except his kind felt the same. He had made his first friends ever in this house; Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, Draco, Pansy, Millicent - known as Millie or Mills for short - Sally-Anne and Morag (Morgy, as she was affectionately known, even though she hate the nickname) were the only people in his life who had ever been nice to him. For this, he felt indebted to them, although whenever he voiced this opinion, they assured him that he had no reason to be; they enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed theirs.

Harry smiled, happy at the realisation that, for once in his life, he had people who cared about him.

~*~

Draco was lecturing Harry on the importance of making a good and imposing - as he called it (Harry thought a more appropriate word would be intimidating - impression when you dress, formally and casually.

"...you can never go wrong with basic black. There are many colours that compliment black. Most are the obvious ones; emerald green, silver, occasionally gold, but you have to be careful with that, some shades of blue, but never, ever yellow. It makes you look like a bumblebee."

In spite of himself, Harry smiled. He had been listening to Draco's fashion tips for over ten minutes now, and he wondered, not for the first time, how the young boy had managed to procure such a labyrinthi of knowledge about such things in his 11 years. He was reminded again that wizards matured much more quickly in their world. With this reoccurring thought, he interrupted Draco gently.

"Draco, would you just like to tell me what to wear? I, unlike you, don't really give a damn about my personal appearance, as long as I'm clean and neat. I'm not particularly interested in which way stripes on shirts affect my torso."

Draco huffed and look mock-mortally-wounded, and followed up on his expression with "Oh, Harry, how could you? Here I am, trying to share with you my invaluable knowledge on such an important subject, but you're just gazing off into space thinking about God-knows-what..." he trailed off.

Harry grinned.

"Draco, darling," he simpered, "can you ever forgive me? I merely want to know what you think would look best on me for this fine evening ahead of us, hopefully consisting of dancing, fine drinks and good food, enjoyed in your perpetually fantastic company, so I don't embarrass you with my obvious lack of "dress sense".

Harry had swept himself down onto one knee whilst making his speech to his best friend and now bowed his head, trying his best to feign innocence.

Draco laughed suddenly. Harry burst into a fit of the giggles himself.

"Honestly, Harry," Draco said, "you're such a drama queen!"

Harry stood and bowed low.

"Thank you, kind sire," he replied, with a fake deep voice.

Straightening up, he sent Draco a roguish grin and started to pull off his robes. He slipped on the emerald green shirt Draco gave him - "It will bring out the colour of your eyes perfectly!" - and buttoned up his black pants. He ran a critical eye over himself in the mirror whilst Draco nodded his approval.

"It looks even better than I though it would!" he commented after Harry slipped on his plain black robe over the top, leaving it unfastened.

"What are you wearing?" Harry asked, turning his back on the mirror.

"Same as you, but with a silver shirt that my mother made for me. It has moonbeams woven into it."

He pulled on the said shirt, buttoning it up with dexterous fingers.

Draco shrugged on his robes and combed his hair.

"Ready?" he asked Harry, who nodded in reply. Together, they walked down the stairs.

When they reached the other first years in the common room, Pansy, Morgy, Sally-Anne and Millie began whistling and clapping.

Although Harry flushed and looked down at the stone floor, Draco just grinned and whispered out the side of his mouth "Sally's got her eye on you."

Harry looked up and saw Sally-Anne grinning cheekily at him.

"No she doesn't," he replied.

Draco just smirked and offered his arm to Pansy.

"Would you do me the honour, fair maiden, of allowing me to escort you to the Great Hall?" he asked, lowering his voice deliberately.

Pansy giggled.

"You boys are so silly sometimes," she said, but still took Draco's proffered arm.

The other first years followed the coupled out of the door, up the stairs and into the Great Hall. They settled down into their seats and were just about to serve themselves to some of the food on the golden plates when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table and gasped, "Troll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

The hall was quiet for a few short seconds. Then, all at once, students started squealing, yelling and screaming. Professor Dumbledore stood and let out a low, but piercing whistle. In an instant, the room was as silent as it had been before the mini-riot.

"Prefects," he said in a clear voice, "lead your houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Harry looked at Draco, his face indiscernible.

But our dormitories are in the dungeons! Harry said, his voice sounding panicky.

Relax. The prefects will probably just lead us to the library, or the Room of Requirement.

Room of Requirement?

Yes. It was a secret room created by Salazar Slytherin, sort of like the Chamber of Secrets.

The what?

Draco grinned as they hurried out of the doors and began walking up the stairs.

I keep forgetting how little you know. I'll tell you about the Chamber of Secrets later. The Room of Requirement is something that only Slytherins know about, and a few other people too, I believe. Dumbledore does.

Yes, but what is it?

It's a room that can equip itself to meet whatever needs you have. Say, for example, you desperately need a place to hide, and you walked past the Room of Requirement, it would become somewhere for you to hide, obviously.

Is it different every time?

Yes.

Wow...Harry sent in awe. That must have taken a lot of complex magic.

Oh, it did. But Salazar Slytherin and the other Founders were the most powerful witches and wizards of their time. Some argue the best ever, with the exception of Merlin, of course.

Whereabouts is it?

Seventh floor, I think. Yes, that's definitely where we're going. You can't tell anyone about this, okay? Especially someone not from Slytherin. This is a house secret, so keep it one.

Draco's voice sounded slightly menacing at these last few words, but Harry dismissed his tone.

"Alright, everyone in here!" Adrian Pucey called out.

The Slytherins filed in through the door Adrian was holding open for them.

The room looked exactly like the Slytherin common room. There were even doors leading up to the dormitories, but when they were tried, it was found that they were just solid walls pretending.

Everyone collapsed into a chair or onto the floor. Adrian's female counterpart, Sabrina, stood and whistled shrilly. The students fell silent and turned their eyes to Sabrina.

"For those of you who don't know," she began, "this is the Room of Requirement."

A few of the older students nodded, whilst others just sat and continued watching her.

"Salazar Slytherin created this room for the use of any Slytherin, to be utilised when needed.

"Although I've told the first and second years, students aren't usually told of this room until third year. I felt an explanation necessary.

"I cannot impress upon you enough the importance of keeping this secret. This room was intended for Slytherins, and for us it will stay. Do not, under any circumstances, tell anyone about this room.

"Now, as I've had my little say, you can all go back to doing whatever you were doing earlier. Your feast will be here soon. Thank you."

The noise level in the room rose immediately, particularly between the first, second and third years, who weren't to be told until this year.

"How did you know, if we were going to be told for another two years?" Harry asked loudly, raising his voice to be heard above the babble. Draco shot him a Look and reverted to their mental speech.

Father told me. He thought it would be good for me to have a head start on the other children.

The two kept up the pretence of playing an extremely quiet game of wizarding chess whilst keeping up an avid conversation.

What's Malfoy Manor like? Harry asked suddenly, changing the subject.

What do you mean, what's it like? Draco replied, sounded bemused.

Well, do you have house elves? Big gardens? Lakes? Pools? A ballroom? More than three libraries? Underground heating?

Draco laughed at Harry's barrage of questions.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes and what's underground heating? in that order.

Harry just gaped.

You must be very rich, he sent finally, ignoring Draco's question?

Oh, we are. And the best thing is, I inherit two-thirds of the family's wealth when I come of age.

Wow, Harry replied briefly.

Mmhm. Check. Draco sent back.

I'd been waiting for you to make that move. Checkmate.

Draco scowled.

I should have pre-empted that, he said.

Probably, Harry replied airily.

While they were playing, Dumbledore - the only teacher, Professor Snape excluded, who knew about the Room of Requirement - came to apologise for not thinking to send the Slytherins somewhere else, and to tell them it was safe to return to their common room.

"I'd forgotten that the Slytherin common room was in the dungeons," he had said remorsefully. "But well done on your quick thinking, Sabrina and Adrian. You can return to your dormitories now, if you wish."

Most of the Slytherins hated the "Muggle-loving old fool." They showed him no respect, similar to most of the teachers, Professor Snape again an exception.

The students walked down to their common room, chattering and giggling amongst themselves. Harry and Draco had begun to talk again.

"Do you like living at Malfoy Manor?" Harry asked, seemingly fixated on the prospect of living at a place with 19 bathrooms.

"Yes, it's alright. Hogwarts isn't nearly as good, but at least here, I have my friends."

"But I thought you said you'd known most of the first years since you were children?"

"Oh, yes, I did. All except Sally-Anne - she lived too far away - and you, obviously. But I was constantly at one of the other's houses, or they were at mine."

Harry nodded, seemingly comprehending.

"What about you?" Draco asked.

"Stayed at home and cleaned for the Dursleys," Harry replied nonchalantly, but with a hint of bitterness belying his uncaring tone.

Draco flashed his best friend a sympathetic look. Harry grinned back at him, showing that he didn't care.

"What time is it?" he asked suddenly.

Draco waved his wand, whispered "Chronos", and smiled as tiny, scantily clad faerie appeared with a pop next to his ear, whispered the time and disappeared again.

"Ten forty-two," he answered. Harry nodded his thanks in return.

As everyone went up to their dormitories, Blaise joined Draco and Harry on the stairs.

"Did you two enjoy that?" he asked, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Enjoy what?" Harry asked, perplexed.

"Oh, you didn't hear?" Blaise asked, continuing without waiting for an answer. "Well, that Granger Mudblood from Gryffindor went after the troll, because she thought she would be able to handle it by herself! The Weasel went after her, tried a Levitation Charm on it's club, which fell and knocked him out."

Momentarily, Harry and Draco just stared at Blaise. Then, together, all three burst into laughter at once.

"Oh, Merlin," Draco gasped between fits of laughter, "How stupid could you be!"

After their hysterics had subsided, Blaise continued.

"So, anyway, now the red haired freak is in the hospital wing. Apparently, Madam Pomfrey said it would be about three or four days before he wakes up."

Draco snickered.

"And the girl?" Harry asked.

Blaise grimaced.

"Fine, unfortunately. Lost Gryffindor house twenty points, though!" he said.

Draco and Harry nodded happily and opened the door to their room.

"Who do you think let the troll in?" Harry asked.

"Quirrell," Blaise replied immediately. All the others laughed.

"And how on earth w-would he m-m-manage t-to d-do that?" Draco asked, imitating Quirrell's stutter perfectly.

"No, seriously," Blaise protested. "All of the other teachers were in the hall. The troll wouldn't have been able to get in by itself, they're too stupid."

"Student?" Crabbe offered.

"Where would a student get a troll? Only a Slytherin could, and we were all at the table, I checked," Blaise replied.

"Ghost, maybe?" Goyle said.

"They were all present too."

They all pondered on this for a while. Finally, it was Draco who began to get ready for bed. The others did the same, followed by a chorus of "Goodnight!"s.

Just as Harry was about to fall asleep, he heard Draco's anxious voice in his head.

Why would Quirrell let in the troll, Harry? He asked.

I don't know...maybe it has something to do with the package Hagrid and I picked up when we were at Gringott's that day, when I met you at Madam Malkin's.

What was it?

Hagrid didn't tell me. He said it was secret Hogwarts business, and that it would be more than his job is worth to tell me what it was.

Draco snickered.

Not so important then, maybe...how big was it?

About two inches long? It was wrapped in very grubby packaging.

Oh, I bet you I know what it is! The Philosopher's Stone!

The what? Harry asked, confused.

The Philosopher's Stone. It's a small blood-red stone that can produce the Elixir of Life, which makes the drinker immortal, and can turn anything into gold. Isn't that brilliant?

Definitely! Harry replied enthusiastically. How did you think of that?

Well, I was doing quite a bit of extra reading before school started about alchemy. Nicholas Flamel is the only person to have made the stone, and I asked Father, and he said that there was one in existence at the moment, in vault seven hundred and something at Gringott's.

Seven hundred and thirteen? Harry asked rhetorically.

Yes, that's it, Draco replied.

Well, why would Quirrell want it? Harry said.

Who wouldn't? Something that gives you immortality and unfathomable riches? I'd like one!

You already have unfathomable riches, Draco, Harry replied dryly.

Yes, but I'm not immortal - yet - am I? Draco said. Harry could picture the devious little grin that the blonde boy would be sporting behind his curtains.

He shook his head, smiling to himself.

Well, what are we going to do about it? Harry asked.

Nothing, I suppose.

Okay then. Anything else you'd like to talk about, Draco darling? Harry sent in a mock caring voice.

No, Mother. Goodnight. Draco replied, playing along.

Goodnight, dear. Sweet dreams. See you in the morning. Harry said, laughing to himself.

Draco pulled apart his hangings, looked at Harry - whose curtains were still opened - poked out his tongue and disappeared behind them again. Harry grinned, closed his drapes and fell immediately into a deep and dreamless sleep.