An old man with a long, white beard and eyes that twinkled behind a pair of glasses stood in front of a student he had watched grow for the last seven years.

"Headmaster, may I ask you a slightly personal question?" the student asked.

"Ask it, and I shall see," the old wizard said, smiling.

"Headmaster, what decision of your made the biggest difference in your life?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was before the turn of the millennium. A quiet boy with a thousand questions entered Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. He wasn't alone. As he stood upon a stool, another boy, pale and blonde was on another stool near him.

"Hello," said the other boy. "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said the first boy.

"My father's next door buying my books and my mother's up the street looking at wands," said the second boy. He sounded a bit bored, which was understandable. Getting fitted for a robe wasn't at all exciting if you were a boy. "Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

The first boy, who was also getting fitted in a large black robe that matched his hair, thought the boy reminded him of somebody.

The blonde boy continued on. "Have you got your own broom?"

"No," the black-haired boy admitted.

"Play Quidditch at all?" the blonde asked.

"No," answered the first boy. If he seemed confused, the other boy did not notice.

"I do—Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," the first boy said for the third time. He felt rather clueless, but, again, the second boy paid no mind.

"Well, no one really know until they get there, do they, but I now I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been—imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Mmm," the first boy said. He wished that he could say something more, yet knew there was nothing that he could talk about.

The blonde became interested in something outside the front window. "I say, look at that man!" he exclaimed.

The black-haired boy recognized the figure outside. "That's Hagrid," he said, finally forming a sentence with more than one word. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the blonde one, "I've heard of him. He's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

The first boy didn't like how the other boy had phrased it. "He's the gamekeeper."

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's a sort of savage—lives in a hut on the school grounds and every not and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," the first boy said honestly. He hadn't had much to compare him to yet, so he thought what he had seen was amazing.

"Do you," said the second boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," the first boy said, not offering any more.

"Oh, sorry," said the other boy, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were witch and wizard, if that's what you mean," the first boy said, slightly confused.

Apparently, he was correct, because the blonde boy went on. "I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never Heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your surname, anyway?"

Before the black-haired boy could answer, Madame Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and the black-haired boy, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking, hopped down from the footstool.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

What if I had been more accepting? What if I had stayed to chat a little longer?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Taking his robes from Madame Malkin, the first boy answered, "Potter."

The other boy was a bit surprised. "As in, Harry Potter?"

"Yes," Harry confirmed.

Madame Malkin and the other witch stopped their work. "Harry Potter?" they asked in unison.

"Yes," Harry said again. He watched as all three pairs of eyes moved to his forehead to see the scar.

However, his fame could only hold the adults' attention so long, as they had business to attend to. Madame Malkin accepted Harry's money and disappeared in the back. The other witch resumed working on the other boy.

The blonde boy held out his hand, even though the other witch was pinning it to the proper length at that moment. "My name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Pleased to meet you."

Harry wasn't all that pleased, but he shook hands anyway.

Draco seemed to be well-imformed on how Harry was raised. "It must have been torture, to have been raised by muggles."

Harry thought about his miserable life with his aunt and uncle. "Well, the muggles I was staying with were pretty bad…" he stared.

But Draco didn't let him finish. "You know, I could really help you. Being raised by muggles and all, I could show you around."

"I don't know if—"

"I've heard that Quidditch runs in your family. I could help you live up to your family name. You know, just so you don't make a fool out of yourself at school when we take flying lessons. I'm sure that I could arrange for you to come to my house between now and the first of September."

The idea was getting to Harry. Draco did have a point. The idea of learning something before hand sounded good. He was rather anxious to prove that he lived up to his name. But, there was still a part of him that didn't like Draco.

"Plus, if you come to my house, you can pick up on all sorts of little things, and get used to the idea of having magic in your everyday life. What do you say?"

The offer sounded promising. "Sure," Harry said. "Why not?"

"Okay, then," Draco said. "As soon as this lady's finished with me, we can go meet my father. I'm sure he won't mind."

At that moment, somebody walked in the store. He was tall, pale, and had blonde hair, and to Harry, there was no doubt that this was Mr. Malfoy.

"Ah, Father," Draco said. "I was just thinking of you."

"Were you?" inquired Mr. Malfoy. "And what exactly about me were you thinking?"

"Well, Father, you see, I was just getting fitted for my robes when this fellow here walked in. I was minding my own business, and was having a friendly conversation with him. It's only proper. Well, he mentioned that he was of pure blood, so I asked him what his surname was. It turns out that he's Harry Potter."

Mr. Malfoy taken back a bit. He turned to Harry. "Are you really?" he asked, as though he didn't trust his own son.

"Yes, sir," Harry said. Mr. Malfoy was staring at him, so he lifted his bangs to that Mr. Malfoy could see the lightning-shaped scar properly.

"Well, Mr. Potter," Mr. Malfoy said slowly.

Draco, however seemed a bit impatient. "So, I was wondering, since he was raised by muggles, such an awful thing, if he could come over to our house. You know, so I could show him around a bit before we go off to school."

Mr. Malfoy put a hand on his chin, considering he son's offer. "Hmmm…I don't know Draco. After all, you know why he famous. It may not be such a good idea. Unless…" And idea came to Mr. Malfoy. "You said that he was raised by muggles?"

Draco nodded.

"Well, Mr. Potter, has anybody shown you around our world yet? Explained things at all?"

"Um," Harry said, "Hagrid, the gamekeeper at Hogwarts, has told me a little bit. But I really don't know all that much so far."

"Really?" said Mr. Malfoy with a slight smile. "Well then, I think it would be a good idea after all. The name Malfoy holds quite a bit of power in today's society, and who better to show the mighty Harry Potter around than a strong family? Yes, yes, Mr. Potter. In fact, why don't you stay at our house for the rest of the summer?"

Harry had never heard a nicer offer in his life. He would be able to spend two whole months away from the Dursleys and would be living with a real wizarding family. There was only one problem that he could see. "Well, I'm supposed to be here with Hagrid, he was sent by Professor Dumbledore to help me get my stuff for school."

Mr. Malfoy smiled shrewdly. "Well, that's not a problem. We can go talk to him. I'm sure he'll understand. Besides, you'll be in capable hands. I've got a son of my own who's your age, as you can see. I think that I could easily take care of another."

The witch that was working on Draco was finished by that time. Mr. Malfoy accepted the robes and paid for them, and the three of them left the shop. Hagrid was still outside, waiting for Harry.

"Well, well, Hagrid, is it?" Mr. Malfoy said as they approached the half-giant. "I've heard that Dumbledore has trusted you do watch over Mr. Potter here."

"Yes, an' I think it's time he and I start movin' on. We've still got a bit o' stuff to shop for yet," Hagrid said with his usual accent.

"This is where I'm afraid that you're wrong," Mr. Malfoy said. "You see, young Mr. Potter here is interested in staying at my house for the rest of the summer. I'm sure that we can handle the rest of his shopping and all."

"Well, I suppose it's up to Harry," Hagrid commented.

"'Arry," he continued, "are ya sure that you want to stay with the Malfoys?"

"Yes, Hagrid, I think I would like to," Harry said confidently.

"'Arry, could I 'ave a word with you, in private?"

"Well," Harry looked up to Mr. Malfoy, who offered no suggestions. "I suppose so."

The two of them walked around the corner, where Mr. Malfoy and Draco couldn't hear them. "Harry, I jus' wanna tell you that the Malfoys aren't really the right sort of people. Mr. Malfoy was a big supporter of You-Know-'Oo. He got off with some lame excuse, and he's got a job with the Ministry, but I don't think he's given up his old ways."

"Hagrid," Harry said, "all my life I've been bullied by Dudley. Nobody wanted to be my friend, because that would mean being Dudley's enemy, and nobody wanted to be Dudley's enemy. Anywhere I went, Dudley went, so I never had any chance of making any friends. But now, I get to start all over again. Dudley's not going to Hogwarts, and nobody's going to be afraid to be my friend. I'm tired of getting pushed around and beat up. Mr. Malfoy said that their name has a bit of power in society. This is my big chance. If I become friends with Draco, then I have a chance in the world. I could get some recognition. I could get some power. I can't pass up this opportunity, because I could end up being Draco's enemy instead. If that happens, I might as well be going to Stonewall High as a muggle. I can't let this go, Hagrid. I just can't."

Hagrid waited before saying anything. "Well, all right then, Harry. It's your choice." Harry didn't notice how depressed Hagrid sounded.

"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry said with a smile.

Harry ran back to the Malfoys, but Hagrid didn't move. He just watched how excited Harry looked as the three of them walked off together. Slowly, he turned his head, and walked off in the other direction.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the old man's mind, the years sped up, revealing only the major events. In the two months before school, Harry become Draco's best friend, and had started picking up on the Malfoys' views on society. At Hogwarts, he was put into the house of Slytherin.

Through the course of the year, Harry and Draco became inseparable, like twins, only they had different colored hair. Harry learned the wonders of hair gel, and slicked his hair back like Draco did. Many of the teachers at Hogwarts who remembered James and Lily Potter were disappointed, but Snape seemed almost pleased.

On that terrible day in late May, Voldemort entered the forbidden third-floor corridor through Quirrel. Only this time, there was nobody to stop him. With the Sorcerer's Stone, he was able to regain power. He rose slowly and quietly for six more years, regaining old supporters and finding new ones.

One fateful day, only a week before Harry and Draco's graduation from Hogwarts, a large attack was planned. While Dumbledore was up in his office, the teachers of the school were all being murdered, quickly, one after another.

Harry and Draco had asked to meet with Dumbledore at that time. There they stood, both armed, standing in front of the muggle-loving headmaster. They had been preparing for that day for years. Harry was on the right, and Draco on the left. Both held their wands in their right hand, and Draco reached his left hand over to hold Harry's left hand.

Dumbledore had no time to prepare for what came next. It took the strength of both boys, but they said, in unison, "Avada Kedavra!" There was a blinding flash of green light from both wands, and when the two boys could see again, they saw Dumbledore lying on the floor of his office, dead.

From that point on, Voldemort's quest was easy. Very few other wizards dared to stand up to him, and those that did were killed. Voldemort ordered the killing of all muggles and muggle-born wizards or witches. He ruled the world as a dictator, and everybody obeyed him out of fear. Anybody that challenged his order was killed. His supporters from the beginning were rewarded with a high seat of power in the new government under him. Harry and the Malfoys were among the higher ranking people.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The old man looked at his student. "Everyday, I choose to get up out of my bed and come here, to Hogwarts. I do not know the full impact of my actions, but I'm sure that you can agree that if I choose to stay in bed any one day, something, somebody's life, would be drastically changed."

The student thought about those words for a moment. Then, slowly, he said, "Yes, Professor Potter, I agree."