A/N: Fic is also posted on AO3 under my other pen name Felled_and_Fallen. The AO3 version has some added art and is also updated more frequently. Fair warning, the numbering systems for the chapters are different.

Disclaimer: Anything that seems even remotely familiar probably isn't mine.

Prologue

Harry had no friends to call his own.

True, he had two loving parents that made sure he never wanted for anything and showered him with affection, but a parent is not the same thing as a friend.

The few times he'd attempted to rectify this problem by approaching the Muggle children in town were, to put it lightly, disastrous. These children had lived together in the same small town for their whole lives and had already developed cliques. Cliques that outsiders like Harry could not hope to join.

Part of the reason for that was of course his family's reputation.

Harry's family lived in a stately manor on a wooded hill overlooking the town, and the few times his family had ventured out of their home were occasions that invited much speculation and scrutiny. His parents were young, beautiful, and obviously wealthy – seeing as they could afford to buy and renovate such a large manor house – and people invented much gossip to account for why they would want to live in such a sleepy, rural town as theirs.

His parents never minded the gossip, their faces unflappable and always politely smiling, but Harry found all the attention very hard to ignore.

After one especially trying day, Harry finally confronted his parents and asked them how they could be so apathetic. Earlier that day, he'd attempted to join a ball game with a group of boys, only for the boys to jeer and laugh him right out of the park. The jeers were based on things they could have only learned from their parents, who apparently all had less than complimentary things to say about his family and their money.

"People will believe what they want to believe. Nothing we say is going to change that." His mother stroked his cheek, which was red and sensitive from his tears. "The best we can do is smile." She demonstrated a small one for his benefit and Harry mimicked her with a wobbly one of his own. "Those who'd think the worst of us would know we're unfazed by their whispers." And the green fire of her eyes made Harry's smile grow, feeding on her confidence.

"And as for the others," His father drawled from his place on the other side of Harry's bed, "you'd be surprised by how easily people are taken in by a friendly face." And the wicked gleam in his red-tinged brown eyes was just as heartening.

His father, of course, didn't want his family becoming friends with Muggles. To him, presenting the public with every appearance of genial civility was only good strategy.

"Why invite trouble?" He'd say, lips quirked sardonically.

His mother would only a share a secretive grin with Harry, eyeing all the Muggle appliances in the kitchen. "For a man with such strong opinions..."

"Well, no one would deny the benefits of Muggle innovation," his father would counter, bringing his coffee mug to his now pursed lips. The Muggle coffee maker just stared accusingly from its earned spot on the kitchen counter.

Harry had learned early on that his parents were very different people, their opinions on Muggles being only one of the differences between them. His parents did agree that he had to form his own opinions on the matter, however, and whether or not he'd adopt his father's stance – that Muggles were only tolerable because of their potential usefulness – or his mother's – that they were no different from wizards where it counts – his choice was ultimately his own.

Harry didn't know what to feel about Muggles. But he did know that the bad he encountered wasn't due to any inherent Muggle qualities. Wizarding children could be just as cruel. But even so, this knowledge didn't stop Harry from feeling unbearably lonely after each overture of friendship was thrown back in his face.

His father thought this was just proof that nothing good would come of associating with such pedestrian Muggles. This did not bring Harry much comfort.

His mother would bring him to her lap and whisper in his ear that someday he'd meet someone just as lonely as he was, and on that day he'd find himself the truest of friends. His parents would then share a look over his head that he couldn't hope to interpret, but was filled with undeniable warmth. A warmth Harry could only dream of sharing with someone else someday.

Harry would rub his head against his mother's silky black hair and nod, but inwardly he wondered whether that day would ever come.

Two months later, an owl arrived bearing a letter from Hogwarts.