Potterella

Great changes had taken place in the lives of Narcissa Malfoy and her son Draco ever since Narcissa's husband, Lucius Malfoy had been gracefully carried away to the world beyond riches and power (otherwise known as prison, though Narcissa refused to refer to it as such). First of all, Narcissa had decided to find herself some real friends. Her first choice would have been some pure-blood wizards, but when she first caught sight of Petunia Dursley's custom made leather handbag while strolling down the street one day, Narcissa instantly fell in love. Now, Narcissa had no idea that Petunia was a Muggle, for someone so fashionable could be nothing short of a respectable, pure-blood witch, so Narcissa introduced herself. When Petunia turned up her nose, Narcissa knew she had found that true friend she had set out to find.

Now, Petunia Dursley, the most proper woman you could ever meet, would have no such thing to do with witchcraft, even if her sister was a witch and her nephew, now in her custody, was a wizard. Still, Petunia denied ever having any relation whatsoever to these abnormal freaks. When Narcissa Malfoy had approached Petunia on that sunny summer afternoon, Petunia would have never guessed the other woman's nature. Petunia was taken aback by the other woman's arogant tone, her perfect blonde hair, and that amazing sense of style. This woman was obviously a perfectly normal, no nonsense, respectable, powerful woman. So naturally, Petunia stuck up her nose and held out a bony hand for the other woman to shake. And Narcissa Malfoy's gloved hand shook Petunia Dursley's bony hand and that was that, and this is this.

The two women walked together and shortly learned just how much they had in common (despite the fact that neither was yet aware of the other's magical background, or lack of magical background). Both women's husbands, in fact, had been "carried away" (Petunia's husband, Vernon, had been convicted of fraud with his drill company), and both women had sons (who both, incidentally, were sixteen years old, had blonde hair, and names beginning with the letter "D").

And then came the vital question:

"Are you on our side, or Potter's?" Narcissa Malfoy had asked, the afternoon sun shining on her porcelain skin.

"You don't mean Harry Potter, do you?" Petunia asked, heart stopping for an instant.

Narcissa Malfoy nodded, her bright eyes shimmering. "Are you a Muggle-lover or a proud pure-blood?"

"Muggle..." Petunia mused over the word. She had heard it somewhere before.

Narcissa arched an eyebrow. "You? A Muggle-lover?" She shook her head in disbelief. "But the way you talk about doing away with such riff-raff, I never would have known you were a Muggle-lover."

Muggle. It meant non-magic person. But why was this perfectly normal-looking lady using such a word? Unless...

"You're a witch?" Petunia gasped, blanching.

"Aren't you?" Narcissa looked utterly shocked.

And from there, the two women had decided that, witch or not, a friend is a friend is a friend, and they already had a friendship so strong that to let it fall to pieces over such a small issue would be foolish. Also, Narcissa learned that Petunia was Harry Potter's legal guardian, and Petunia learned that Narcissa was an expert in cruel punishment, so naturally, they moved in together - it was the right thing to do.

Which brings us to the Malfoy Mansion in Whiltshire. Upon Narcissa's request, Petunia, her son Dudley, and her nephew Harry Potter, moved to the mansion, presently occupied only by Narcissa, her son Draco, and their new house-elf Kreacher.

So now, instead of living with a mean, brutish uncle, an eavesdropping, malicious aunt, and a greedy, abusive cousin, Harry Potter lived with an eavesdropping, malcious aunt, a greedy abusive cousin, a cruel, pure-evil, my-husband-kills-people-for-a-living Narcissa, a jealous-and-out-to-kill-Harry Draco, and a nosy, snide little house-elf who treated Harry with the utmost disrespect. Needless to say, Harry had to sleep (in a cold, dreary dungeon, mind you) with at least one eye open, both ears open, and wand at the ready. Just fantastic, just fan-bloody-tastic.

Draco and Dudley, like their mothers, became instant friends. They had more in common than you'd expect, since one was a handsome, slender-framed boy who could have any girl in Hogwarts (if using the right spell), and the other was an overweight, red-faced bully who could beat up every boy in London, and probably would, if he weren't so interested in video-games and television (neither of which they had at Malfoy Mansion, so it's a wonder he ever survived). Draco would never had dreamed of being friends with a Muggle, but it was acceptable with wizards all over Britain since Arthur Weasley had been, somewhat against his own will, appointed Minister of Magic. Also, until his father was released from prison, there could be no harm in it.

And we are now one week into August where the story begins. An owl had arrived from the Ministry of Magic while Malfoys and Dursley' breakfasted in the dining room. Harry had been, by Kreacher the house-elf, been commanded to read the letter aloud after breakfast. While Kreacher scurried about clearing the breakfast dishes, Harry entered the dining room, letter in hand.

"Yes?" Narcissa Malfoy said coldly, glaring daggers at Harry.

"A letter arrived," Harry said, dodging a dagger which flew by his ear.

Narcissa rolled her eyes, and to Harry's relief, the daggers ceased their flying.

"Well, go on then Potter, we don't have all day," Draco Malfoy snapped.

"It's from the Ministry of Magic," Harry said, unfolded the parchment upon which the letter was written in scrawled handwriting.

"Read it then," Petunia Dursley snapped, curious to learn the nature of the letter.

Harry cleared his throat, holding the letter out before him. "By order of the Minister for Magic, Arthur Weasley," he began, smiling at Arthur Weasley's name, "a grand ball will be held for wizards and Muggles (and elves, for the peace of mind of Miss. Hermione Granger) alike this evening at eight o' clock. The occasion of the ball is yet to be decided, but all are welcome to attend. Dress nicely because your picture may end up the Daily Prophet. This parchment will become a portkey to the undisclosed location of the ball at precisely eight o' clock this evening. Signed, Cornelius Fudge, No Longer the Minister for Magic and Has Now Resorted to Writing Letters By Order of the New Minister."

"Ooh! A ball!" Dudley Dursley screamed, jumping to his feet. "Can we go Mummy? Please, please, please?"

"Well, I don't see why not," Petunia replied, smiling at her son.

"And Draco, you can take Pansy Parkinson," Narcissa said in her usual, cold tone of voice. "I'm sure she'd be delighted."

"Oh please." Draco rolled his eyes. "If I take anyone to that damned ball, it'll be... Ginny Weasley."

"Aren't you supposed to hate the Weasleys?" Harry asked, looking doubtfully at the overly handsome blonde-haired boy, wishing his own hair could be so perfect.

"Think about it, Potter," Draco snarled. "My new best friend is a Muggle."

"Ginny doesn't like you anyway," Harry said spitefully.

"Don't be jealous just because she doesn't doodle your name all over her books anymore," Draco returned, rising from the dining table. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go shopping for some new robes."

"But you just got five new pairs!" Harry exclaimed, but the Malfoys and the Dursleys were already deciding what new clothes they would buy.

"...it was a lovely shade of ivory," Petunia was saying to Narcissa as Harry stormed out the room.

"Oh but it wouldn't look good with your blonde hair," Narcissa replied to Petunia as Harry slammed the door of the sound-proof dining room.

Out in the corridor, Harry was beyond shocked to see Kreacher cutting up what looked like bottle-green fabric. Seconds later, Harry noticed that the green fabric was in fact his own dress robes.

"Kreacher will look so prettiful for the ball, oh yes," the large-eared, hairy-nostrilled house-elf said to himself.

"Give me back my robes!" Harry demanded. "What am I supposed to wear to the ball?"

"Who saids Potterella is to be going to the ball?" Kreacher said cruelly, using the nickname he had given Harry.

"I do!" Harry shouted, pulling his robes from Kreacher's grasp, succeeding only in tearing them. Kreacher slashed the skin of Harry's forearm with his scissors.

"That should teaches Potterella!" the house-elf shrieked, popping out of sight with a sound like a whip cracking, taking Harry's dress robes with him.

Harry sat weeping in the corridor for a few minutes until he remembered the oven needed scrubbing and the beds needed making. You would think that such chores would be made easier with the use of magic, and since Lucius Malfoy had long ago cast a spell on the entire house so that the Ministry of Magic could not detect illegal magic (such as an underage wizard doing magic outside of school), but for some reason, Harry's wand did not work very well within the walls of the Malfoy Mansion.

It was quarter past five when Harry had finally finished scrubbing the oven. He had begun to clean Draco's bedroom when he discovered a moving photograph of Ginny Weasley. He pocketed the picture, disgusted that Draco had ever gotten his hands of such a thing as a picture of Ginny Weasley. He ought to tell Ron, he'd pound Malfoy's head in for certain. Harry smiled at the thought.

At precisely half past six, Narcissa, Petunia, Dudley, and Draco arrived home with brand new dress robes. Petunia and Dudley had decided they would dress like wizards for the evening since Vernon was not around to boss them around and force them to be perfectly normal. And then the fuss began.

"I need this hemmed!"

"My robes need more frills!"

"That's too many!"

Harry spent the next hour fixing the robes of the Malfoys and the Dursleys untill the two blonde women and the two blonde boys looked absolutely perfect. Draco had picked out the perfect robes for Dudley, so even the not-so-attractive Dudley Dursley looked absolutely fabulous.

"Don't our boys look lovely, Petunia?" Narcissa said, admiring her son.

"Yes, yes they do," Petunia responded, a tear of joy rolling down her cheek as Dudley spun around for his mother.

"Now I only have half an hour to get ready!" Harry said, glancing at the large grandfather clock in the lounge where they were gathered.

"You?" Petnuia said, glaring at her black-haired nephew. "And what makes you think you're going?"

"You sure as hell can't stop me!" Harry roared, emerald green eyes ablaze.

"Oh yes we can," Narcissa said, reminded Harry greatly of Bellatrix Lestrange (who, not surprisingly, was Narcissa's older sister).

"Oh yeah? How?" Harry crossed his arms stubbornly for effect just as Kreacher the house-elf entered the room clad in a late nineteenth century style bottle-green gown, a puffy blonde wig set upon his head.

"Kreacher will look oh so prettifullest at the Ball!" the house-elf exclaimed, hopping up and down in excitement.

"As I was saying," Harry said, rolling his eyes at Kreacher, "how?" Before Harry even received a response, the floorboards gave way under his feet and he tumble threw the air, landing several metres below on a slimy stone floor.

"And don't even think about trying to get out of there," he heard Narcissa's voice say from somewhere overhead. "Because try as you might, your wand won't work, and you certainly can't climb out."

To Harry's disappointment, Narcissa was right. From the moment he had landed on that grimy floor, he had begun trying to scale the walls, which were also dripping with slime. Unfortunately, there was not a single crack or crag upon the wall, making climbing out of this repulsive chamber completely impossible. Taking his wand from his pocket, he tried a few spells, but he could not seem to produce a single thing.

"Lumos!" he shouted, violently flicking his wand.

"It won't work." Narcissa's head had appeared at the edge of the opening above Harry were the walls should have met the ceiling.

"Oh, Vernon would just love this!" Petunia squealed, joing Narcissa.

"You're pure evil!" Harry cried, tears rolling down his cheeks. He had not yet washed his face so the tears drew streaks through the dirt that had settled on his skin.

"Don't worry Potter," said Draco, joining his mother and Petunia at the rectangular shaped hole. "We'll tell you all about it. And I'll be sure to dance with Ginny Weasley for you."

"She wouldn't touch you with a fifty foot wand!" Harry sniffed, looking teary eyed up the three evil people.

"For you information, Potter," Draco sneered, looking a bit too smug for even his own mother's liking, "I have found the perfect spell to cast on any girl I choose. Good night." And with that, Draco's perfect little face disappeared from view.

"Don't stay up too late, little Harry." Narcissa smiled before she and Petunia both disappeared as well, and the floorboards that had vanished from under Harry's feet returned, and they too, seemed to be mocking Harry as he stared up at them through his tears.

The little chamber Harry had landed in, he now noticed, seemed to be lit by the slime smeared over the floor and walls. Some of the slime had clung to Harry's palms when he had tried to climb the walls and now that he studied the glowing goop, it smelt like Fizzing Whizzbees. Cautiously, Harry licked the slime and found that it tasted like Fizzing Whizzbees.

"What is this place?" he wondered aloud, looking around and seeing only the four smooth walls and the plain, slimy, stone floor. And then a thought struck Harry Potter, and he wondered if he would be able to eat his way out of this mysterious chamber.

What a silly idea that had been. It took Harry over thirty minutes to realise that licking the walls would accomplish nothing but a sore tongue. And a sore tongue he did have after all that licking. With his tongue hanging out and his glasses fogged up with tears of frustration, Harry threw himself on the floor to weep. It was too late, he would never make it to the Ball! He would never be able to save Ginny Weasley from the evil grasp of Draco Malfoy! But then again, Ron Weasley would surely be at the Ball and would kick Draco's face in if the fabulously evil blonde even glanced at Ginny.

Harry giggled at the thought of Ron kicking Draco's face in. There would be pieces of Draco all over the dancefloor once Ron was finished.

But these thoughts only cheered Harry's spirits for a few minutes. He would give anything, anything to go to the Ball.

"I would give anything - anything to go to the Ball!" Harry exclaimed.

"Anything?" asked a deep voice, sounding as though it belonged to a deadly handsome gentleman.

"Who said that?" Harry said warily. "Who's there?"

And suddenly, as if by magic, a tall dark figure appeared before him!

"Who are you?" Harry asked, looking up in awe at the tall figure robed in black.

"I am your Fairy Godfather!" the man said, and Harry could see now just how good-looking this gentleman was. He had long black hair, falling in waves below his shoulders, and a ruggedly handsome face with twinkling grey eyes. On his head, he wore a tall black tophat, making him look very important indeed. He looked as if he had, at some point in his life, been very ill, very thin, and very unhappy, and even though that stage had passed, he still carried the scars with him.

"My what?" Harry asked, looking utterly confused.

"Fairy Godfather," the man repeated, sounding somewhat exasperated.

Harry looked at the man for a moment, then said, "I'm sorry, what?"

"Your Fairy Godfather," the man said very slowly, sounding short-tempered.

"Oh I see," Harry said, nodding his head but not understanding at all.

"Have you ever heard the story of 'Cinderella'?" the Fairy Godfather asked.

"Can't say that I have," Harry responded truthfully. "I've heard the name somewhere, but I've never heard a story."

"She used to live on my street, they even wrote a book about her. Don't tell me you never used to read storybooks when you went to Muggle school," the Fairy Godfather said, arching an eyebrow at the dark-haired boy who sat before him.

"I've read other stories," Harry said defensively. "Like Goldilocks and the Three Bears. See, there's this family of bears, there's the Father Bear, the Mother Bear, and the Baby Bear. They sit down for breakfast one morning-"

The Fairy Godfather held up a hand to silence Harry. "There's no need for that," he said bitterly.

"What, don't you like Goldilocks?" Harry asked.

"Let's just say she was my cell-mate once, and she's just not very pleasant," the Fairy Godfather said. "Now, onto business. I understand there's a Ball this evening and you want to go, but your evil stepmothers (now, is that really plural?) locked you in here?"

"Yes, that's correct," Harry said, nodding. "And now Draco Malfoy has a spell that he's going to put on Ginny. But Ron's going to beat him up if he tries."

"Oh, how's old Draco doing?" the Fairy Godfather asked in a casual tone of voice.

"You know Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"Yes, he's my nephew," the Fairy Godfather returned. "Now, you were planning on going to the Ball and-"

"Wait a minute," Harry said, rising to his feet, the better to see the Fairy Godfather's face, "I know you!"

"Of course you do!" the Fairy Godfather snapped. "I am, after all, your godfather."

"Sirius?" Harry asked.

"Well obviously," the Fairy Godfather replied. "Now back to business, if you please. You wanted to go to the Ball but your evil stepmothers locked you down here so that you wouldn't be able to go. And you haven't a thing to wear anyway, so you can't exactly catch the eye of the princess looking like... well, a sewer rat."

"I do not look like a sewer rat!" Harry was outraged that someone could say such a thing about him!

"Whatever," Sirius said, waving a hand impatiently. "It's my job, as your Fairy Godfather, to make you look fabulous and get you to the Ball and back before your evil stepmothers ever find out you left this here room."

"And how are you going to do that?" Harry inquired, folding his arms across his chest.

"Remember when I went through that veil?" Sirius asked. "It couldn't be more than, what, two, three months ago? Well I was appointed the position of Fairy Godfather by the voices and now I have more magical powers than even Dumbledore!"

"Really?" Harry looked at his godfather in amazement.

"A Fairy Godfather never lies," Sirius replied, smiling. "OK now let's do something about that hair of yours..."

Sirius mended Harry's filthy torn robes into the most exquisite dress robes any wizard had ever laid eyes on. With just these robes, Harry could wander into that Ball and have witches, wizards, and elves alike drooling all over him, not that he'd want that. Still, Sirius was not done. He waved a hand and the little chamber transformed into a bathroom with a marble sink. The Fairy Godfather instructed Harry to brush his teeth and wash his face. Once Harry's teeth glittered and his skin shimmered, Sirius began on that shock of untameable, unruly black hair.

It was not long until Harry stood in lovely dark green dress robes (which brought out his green eyes), shiny new shoes, and hair to die for.

"Now you're all ready to go!" Sirius said, clapping his hands gleefully. "I have really done a good job with you."

"But how am I to get to the Ball?" Harry asked, suddenly crushed as he remembered there was no way out of this chamber.

"Simple," Sirius said thoughtfully. "In Cinderella, the Fairy Godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage and a few mice into horses to pull the carriage... So the pumpkin part we'll use. And we'll need some spiders... I can turn those into thestrals."

"But how do we get out of this room?" Harry asked.

"That's simple too," Sirius said, taking his hat off of his head. He proceeded to pull a broomstick out of his hat, and handed it to Harry. By waving his hand in the air, the Fairy Godfather made the floorboards which had allowed Harry entrance into this chamber disappear again. "Just tap your heels together three times and fly through that hole," he said, pointing at the only exit out of the room.

Harry Potter tapped his heels together four times (one for good luck) and mounted the broom. He rose out of the room and entered the lounge through the floor. Seconds later, he was joined by Sirius, who did not seem to need a broom to fly.

"Get me a pumpkin and six spiders!" Sirius demanded.

Harry hurried about the mansion in search of spiders, which were not too difficult to find. Then he went to the kitchen pantry and found a large pumpkin which Kreacher had been hiding, though nobody quite knew why. Presenting these objects to Sirius, Harry stepped back to watch the Fairy Godfather work his magic.

The six little spiders transformed into horse-shaped, fleshless, skeletal creatures with dragon-esque faces and black white eyes. They each had a set of wings, much like those of bats, though several sizes bigger. Harry knew these creatures to be thestrals. The pumpkin transformed in a beautfiul white carriage, the letters "H.P." carved onto the doors in swirly hand.

"It's beautiful!" Harry gasped.

"Yes, yes it is," Sirius nodded, admiring his excellent work. "Now you must remember to leave the Ball at midnight or else your new clothes will vanish and your evil stepmothers will catch you at the Ball and you'll be in loads of trouble. Now get going!"

Harry stumbled into the carriage, shutting the door behind him. The inside of the carriage was completely covered in deep burgundy velvet. The cushioned seat was very comfortable, and Harry relaxed as he sat down, enjoying the steady motion of the ride. He could not, of course, see where the thestrals were leading him as Sirius hadn't made windows in the carriage, but Harry didn't care.

At long last, the motion ceased and the carriage door flew open. Harry found himself at the foot of a staircase indoors somewhere. The staircase was made of gold, a long scarlet carpet leading up the steps. Excitedly, Harry jogged up the stairs, forgetting completely about his carriage. At the top of the stairs, Harry found a dark wooden door with a fancy gold handle. He turned the handle, opening the door, and there inside were hundreds of witches, wizards, vampires pretending to be wizards, Muggles, and elves, even a centaur or two.

Harry grinned, entering the room. He had arrived.

All the witches and Muggle females, most of the wizards, and all of the house-elves turned to look as Harry walked by, but he noticed not a single one. He had to find Ginny before Malfoy did.

"Oh Harry, you look so good!" Cho Chang cried as he passed her, but when he made no response, she burst into tears. Figures.

As he passed by Parvati Patil and Lavendar Brown, they literally melted, and Cornelius Fudge had to mop them up.

"Well, well, look what the house-elf dragged out of the rubbish."

Harry could have screamed! Draco Malfoy stood before him, arms crossed, smirk intact.

"I'm sorry Potter, but you're a bit late," Draco sneered. "You see, I already have Ginny Weasley at my command." He snapped his fingers, and Ginny was instantly at his side, clad in elegant black dress robes.

"Yeah, well, Ron's going to beat you up," Harry said, trying to be intimidating. Well, at least he looked good.

"Unfortunately for you, Potter," Draco said, smirk widening, "I have all the Weasleys under a spell." He snapped his fingers again, and Ron was at his feet, kissing his shoes.

"Ron!" Harry cried, pulling his best friend up by the collar. "Have some dignity, mate."

"You see Potter," Draco continued, "with Arthur Weasley under my control, I have total power in Britain."

"You won't get away with this Malfoy!" Harry shouted, and everybody in the ballroom turned to see what all the noise was about.

Suddenly, in a puff of white smoke, Sirius Black, the Fairy Godfather, appeared at the centre of the dancefloor, complete with black tophat and robes.

"But you're dead!" Albus Dumbledore, who had thus far been sitting at a table in the corner, chatting quietly with Minerva McGonagall (who had let down her hair, which was at least fifty feet in length and kept getting trod on).

"Well no, dead isn't the right word for it," Sirius said. "I'm Harry's Fairy Godmother. Honestly Albus, you should be more wise, don't you think?"

"Have you seen Cinderella's dear fairy godmother, by any chance?" Albus asked bashfully.

"Oh, yeah, she said to tell you she's not free this Friday becuase Cindy has a wedding coming up or something," Sirius replied. "She said Saturday might be better."

Albus Dumbledore punched the air, exclaiming, "Yahooo!" and then resumed his quiet conversation with Minerva, but not before accidentally stepping on her hair first.

"Now you," Sirius said, pointing an accusing finger at Draco Malfoy. "You're messing everything up, you little snotface."

"No, I swear," Draco said, putting up his hands innocently. "I didn't even put the spell on Ginny yet. I think I really might have a chance with her."

"Well how do you explain that?" Sirius asked, gesturing towards Ron, who had begun kissing Draco's shoes again.

"OK, that might be my fault," Draco replied. "But I assure you, I didn't intend for him to get so clingy." He kicked Ron off of his shoes, looking at the red-headed, freckle-faced Weasley in disgust. "Honestly, have some self-respect, Weasley."

"Ginny Weasley, how do you feel about this?" Sirius Black asked, taking a step towards Ginny.

"Well he just looked so good," Ginny said, looking dreamily at Draco. "I couldn't resist."

"Alright, this story's dead then," Sirius said, looking apologetically at Harry. "Maybe next time?"

Harry cried out in horror, dropping to his knees dramatically as Lord Voldemort stormed into the ballroom, Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange at his heels, to declare war on the Ministry of Magic. It seems real life for Harry Potter just isn't made of the right stuff for a fairy tale after all.