Chaos Theory tells us that a butterfly flapping its wings in China can cause rain to fall in Central Park in New York. In essence, only one small thing needs to change in order to produce over time a dramatic result. In this story, one small thing did happen differently. And because of this, in an Alternate Universe, JK Rowling is best known as the author of:
DRACO MALFOY AND THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE
An alternate history of events compiled by Hibob
Chapter 1: The Boy Who Survived
Prologue: Arrival
The old man appeared at the end of the lane. He was wearing a robe much too fancy to be a bathrobe. And he had a beard so long that he needed to tuck it into his belt. His face held a ready smile beneath a long crooked nose, and his eyes had a twinkle to them. All of this would have been obvious to anyone who had seen him, but no one did.
He walked unnoticed to the entrance of Privet Drive and pulled a strange device from his pocket. He pointed it at a street lamp and clicked it. The lamp went dark. One by one, the lamps went out, leaving the street in darkness.
"So. It is true," a voice asked from the shadows.
The old man, Albus Dumbledore, smiled. "Why am I not surprised that Severus Snape should be here? Yes, my friend. The rumours are true."
A thin, harsh man with black shoulder length hair stepped into the open. The first thing he did was give a sarcastic laugh. "Is HE dead?"
"Dead? I think not. But it will be a long time before he can cause harm to anyone."
Snape stared sullenly. "And the Malfoys?"
Dumbledore nodded.
Snape looked Dumbledore in the eye. "They were my friends. In spite of everything, they were still my friends."
Dumbledore put a gentle hand on the man's shoulder. "Severus, I know they were hated by many, but I do wish things could have ended differently. At least the boy survived."
Snape sighed. "I had hoped that the rumours were lies. Even if it meant this war should continue. I knew either way you would come here. It was my best chance to find out. Was the boy hurt badly?"
"A scar on his forehead. It was his only injury."
"Albus, where is he?"
"Hagrid is bringing him."
"The giant?"
"You should know, Severus, that I would trust Hagrid with my life. Draco will not be hurt."
Snape looked at a particular house. "And what is to become of Draco?"
"I thought it best to have him raised by his aunt and uncle."
"But they're . . . the worst sort of people. I could take better care of him."
Dumbledore arched his eyebrow. "With your own legacy to bear? I told you I would stand by you, but I can only do so much. And they are his mother's closest relatives. Beside, it is better this way. Draco Malfoy will grow up far away from the infamy that is already gathering around his name. Until he is ready."
Severus Snape nodded. "Then there is nothing I can do."
"Nothing but wait." Dumbledore smiled at the man. "And while you are waiting, I could give you something to do. Our Potions Professor has been talking about retiring once the troubles were over. I'm sure your status will be resolved by then. And Severus . . ."
"Yes?"
"You will be there to greet Draco when he comes to the school."
Severus Snape smiled. For all the ill things that happened, there was something to look forward to.
Prologue: Departure
Draco awoke, his dreams unremembered. His arms were stiff from where he had been . . . from where he had fallen down the stairs. He had to remember it was his own fault. He was only supposed to pull up the weeds. It was his decision to pull up the flowers as well. And he couldn't explain why.
"Get dressed and in the kitchen AT ONCE."
The door flew open and Aunt Petunia grabbed him, dragging him off the cot. Draco picked himself up and dressed as quickly as he could. It was a small thin boy who stepped out of the cupboard that was his bedroom. He had blond hair long enough to cover his forehead and his only distinguishing feature. It was a scar, the remnant of an automobile accident that killed his parents five years before. He was scarcely more than a year old at the time. The scar was interesting only because it was shaped like a lightning bolt.
Draco had light blond hair that seemed to have a hint of red. In bright sunlight his hair showed with a golden hue. But it was his eyes that were his most striking feature. They were a bright emerald green.
Not that anyone saw very much of him. Draco had learned the rules long ago. Don't start up conversations. Don't answer personal questions. Don't talk to anybody. And thanks to Dudley, Draco never even had a chance to get around these rules. Dudley and his friends used Draco often as the source of their amusement. Shoving him from behind. Hitting him in the side. Any other form of harassment. No one ever stood up for Draco. Dudley wouldn't let them.
"GET OUT HERE?" Aunt Petunia called out. Draco could hear her in the kitchen with the frying pan. "Good, there you are. Watch the bacon doesn't burn. I want everything to be perfect for Dudley's birthday." For added emphasis, she smacked him on the side of the head.
Draco nodded as he rubbed his ear.
He pulled up the sleeves on the pullover he wore. It used to belong to Dudley. Dudley was Draco's cousin. He was older by a month, three inches taller, and fifty pounds heavier. And on this day Dudley turned seven. Everything that Draco had, everything he owned, used to belong to Dudley.
Draco sighed. Today was going to be worse than usual. And he was right.
Dudley made it a point to count the number of presents. Satisfied that there were more than last year, he chose the largest gift and opened it first. Breakfast was ignored for now. As he opened each gift, he would judge it carefully, then grab the next largest one. After the fifth gift he turned around and grabbed a slab of bacon and shoved it in his mouth. The rest of the time he would alternate between opening gifts and grabbing food, wiping his greasy hands on what would soon be Draco's new shirt.
Dudley whined about some of the gifts. Draco would have been happy with one. Then Aunt Petunia asked Uncle Vernon about the birthday trip. Uncle Vernon sat thinking for a moment.
"I suppose we could lock him in. With a sandwich, of course. Can't let him starve."
Twenty minutes later, Draco was back in his cupboard, with two slices of bread and a thin slice of ham. That would be all the food to last him until evening. His breakfast had ended up on Dudley's plate as an extra birthday treat.
Draco began to cry. It wasn't fair. It was so unfair that he couldn't stand it. He began to hit the door.
"Let me out."
Then he began to scream.
"LET ME OUT!"
No one heard him scream.
"LET ME OUT!"
No one ever did.
Draco kept hitting the door and screaming until he exhausted himself. He leaned back to catch his breath and . . .
The door opened.
Draco wiped his eyes. He stared at the open door. He listened but could hear no one. He hesitated.
"Thank you, Uncle Vernon?"
It paid to be careful.
"THANK YOU."
Draco looked out. There was no one. Draco stepped out of the cupboard. The door closed behind him. He tried the handle. The door was locked. He would need Uncle Vernon's key to get back in. What would Uncle Vernon do when he found Draco outside of . . .
A car was heard on the street outside. Draco froze. What if it was Uncle Vernon? How could he explain what happened?
He had no choice. He knew what he had to do. And he had to act now. With surprising courage, spurred on by an equal amount of fear, Draco opened the front door and stepped out. He walked down the street to the alleyway which led to the park. When he reached the park, he kept walking. He couldn't stay anymore. He had to find another place.
Prologue: A New Life
Draco did not notice the car that passed him on a regular basis, or the men inside. Nor did he notice as they parked the car on the next street. All Draco knew was that he had to keep walking. Otherwise, they might find him.
He stopped at the corner and waited for the light to change. He ignored the few stares from the lunchtime crowd, but they also ignored him for the most part. He crossed the street and continued walking. The man stepped in front of him.
"Hello, Sonny Jim. You've been walkin' quite a spell. You must be tired."
Draco stared vacantly at the man. He couldn't think of why the man would stop him. He simply stared as the man knelt in front of him, to look at him eye to eye. He vaguely noted that the man was wearing a uniform.
"See this," the man said as he pointed to his chest. "That's a badge. That mean's I'm supposed to help people. And this. That's me name. Givens." He smiled at Draco as friendly as he could. "Can I ask where you're goin'?"
Draco couldn't think of anything to say.
Givens sighed. "See here. You been walkin' an awful long way and," he pointed, "I have my car right here. Me an' the Sergeant will be more than happy to give you a lift."
Givens looked up at the sergeant when the boy didn't say anything. "Sir?"
"Could be an immigrant. Pole or Czech. May not understand us at all." The Sergeant made a specific point to look at the Draco's bare shoulder where the oversized jumper had slipped. The faded bruises.
Givens nodded, and turned back to the boy. He pointed at himself and said, "Andrew. Andrew." He pointed to the boy. Nothing. He pointed back to himself. "Andrew. My name is Andrew." He pointed to the boy. "Your name is . . ."
Draco stared at his hand.
"Your name is . . ."
"Du . . . Du . . . Draco."
Givens smiled. He took Draco's hand and gave it an exaggerated shake. "Hello, Draco. I am Andrew."
The boy looked at Givens with a sudden understanding. "Food? Please?"
It was the sergeant who spoke. With a surprisingly soft voice.
"We have plenty." Gingerly patting the boy, he added, "we'll take you there, right now."
Doctor Pamela Bennett looked at Draco carefully.
"He had a ham and cheese in front of him a minute ago."
Draco felt Givens squeeze his shoulder. "I bet the next one lasts him just as long."
The doctor smiled when she saw Draco's lips flicker. "Did you drink your juice as well?"
Draco nodded.
"And when did you eat last? Was it yesterday? The day before? Longer?"
Draco had been staring at her. Then he looked away.
"I was only being curious. We'll see how well that sandwich sits before we get you more food." She looked at her clipboard. "Draco? Do you understand?"
Draco looked up again, and nodded. The food gave him some energy. Enough that he began to be scared. The doctor noticed.
"I'm going to help you, Draco," the doctor said quickly. She leaned forward and grabbed his hand, squeezing it for reassurance. "But I need to know if you need help. Have you ever had a checkup?"
Draco frowned as he shook his head.
"Well . . ." the doctor smirked. "It's going to be very easy. And it's going to be embarrassing." She added, coaxing, "Come along, I'll explain it to you." Having convinced Draco to follow her, Doctor Bennett nodded for the constable to follow as well. She would need an official witness.
They walked into a private room, and Doctor Bennett closed the door. She was looking at Draco with mixed emotions. Draco guessed that she was worried about what he might do.
"Draco. I need you to take off your clothes."
"Why?"
Nervousness became relief and surprise. "To examine you. I need to make sure there's nothing wrong with you, physically."
Draco looked at Constable Givens who nodded in turn. He thought briefly and decided it didn't matter. They fed him. They promised him more food. And he was too tired. He pulled off his jumper. He was wearing nothing underneath. Chest bare, he stood there and stared.
Constable Givens understood, and held out his hand. Draco handed him the jumper. He watched as the man examined it then placed it on a chair. Draco kicked off his trainers then undid the belt that held up the shorts he was wearing. Now naked, he handed the shorts to Givens, and waited.
Doctor Bennett sat him on the examination table and looked him over carefully, making note of every bruise and scrape and its possible cause. Then she led Draco to a side room, and showed him the shower.
"And this is soap. Draco, do you understand soap?"
Draco smiled, and the doctor made to grab his nose.
"I want you to be squeaky clean when you come out. We'll finish your exam, then we'll get you some clean clothes."
"Food?" Draco asked.
"There's plenty of beef stew waiting, but only for clean little boys."
Draco nodded. He would make sure he was completely clean.
He was washing himself a third time when the doctor finally made him stop. She told him he was clean enough.
"He's anxious for the food," Givens noted.
"Too anxious," Bennett admitted as she reexamined Draco's body, checked his pulse and his heart. She asked him to be brave as she took a blood sample with a needle. Then she pointed him to a chair. Draco smiled. Clean clothes.
It was during his first decent meal in a week that Draco made his mistake. The officer who found him was off duty and had stayed to make sure he was fine.
"It's not every day I pick up a stray." Andrew Givens gave his best smile. "You do look a lot better, now. I guess it's the clothes."
Draco smiled as he looked up from his bowl. "I like the fact that they fit."
Andrew nodded his head. "I guess that's a good thing. Hey, do you want more of that stew. I'll get it for you."
"Thank you, Constable Givens."
"Call me Andrew. I'm off duty. This is a personal visit." He turned to get the stew then turned back."Oh, Draco, I forgot to ask. What is your last name?"
Draco froze. Draco knew what would happen if he told. They could find out who he was. They could send him back. He hung his head and didn't say anything.
Constable Givens was nice about it. He went for the stew and when he came back he stayed to talk to Draco for a while, to reassure the boy. At the end, he did ask the obvious question.
"Um, Draco, could I get a last name? It won't make a difference at this point. Your first name is not that common."
Draco said nothing at first. He had realized something. He only knew what his last name wasn't. He looked at Andrew with sad eyes. "I don't have one. I'm Draco. Only Draco."
That was his mistake. He showed emotion. He'd shown where he could be hurt. But he wasn't hurt. All he felt was a hand gently squeezing his shoulder.
"Don't worry, my boy. I'll tell the doctor to call you Atkins."
"Draco Atkins? Why Atkins?"
"How much have you read in your history books?"
Draco stiffened. Givens mentioned reading. It wasn't worthwhile for Draco to learn to read. "Not much."
"No matter. You remember the wars, at least."
Draco nodded. If everyone was quiet, he could hear the television or the radio from the cupboard. He heard about wars.
Givens gave the boy a smile, which helped reassure Draco that he had done nothing wrong. "Well. Back in World War One, the government drafted a lot of men for the army. When all the brand-new soldiers went for their training, they had to fill out all sorts of forms. And they were all given sample forms to show how to fill them out. Now, the name they used on those sample forms was Thomas Atkins. It's the reason British soldiers are called Tommies. And I figured since you already had a first name . . ."
Draco grinned. "I have a last name."
"And one you can be proud of."
Two weeks later Draco would learn of the results of the search. There was no record of him. He had never been reported missing.
A/N: In the past I have always completed a story first, then posted it at the rate of a chapter a day. I cannot do that with this story. I do not have enough time, anymore, at least until the end of the year. I will do my best to post new chapters at least every weekend and I will warn you if I suffer any delays.