Harry stood on the stool at Madam Malkin's while she pinned up his long black robes. Hagrid had nipped off "fer a pick-me-up" at the Leaky Cauldron, looking quite sickly after the cart ride. A pale, blonde boy was on the stool next to Harry, trying to make conversation. It wasn't going very well, and Harry really wished he knew what Quidditch was so he could contribute something intelligent to the conversation.

"…Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Harry, feeling more stupid by the minute.

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

"Mmm," said Harry, wishing he could say something a bit more interesting.

"I saw, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding towards the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large ice-creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," said Harry, "he works at Hogwarts, he fetched me from the Dursleys and has been taking me shopping. He's a dreadful drunkard." Harry's voiced dripped with disapproval.

"Oh, the gamekeeper," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's a savage – lives in a hut on the school grounds and when he gets drunk he tries to do magic and sometimes ends up setting fire to his bed."

Harry laughed. "I wouldn't be at all surprised. Do you know, he showed up with my Hogwarts letter at midnight. He bashed the door down, threatened my family (not that I minded that part much), drank some booze, and then he tried to turn my cousin into a pig."

The boy looked impressed. "Did it work?"

"No, just gave him a curly tail. Suited him, the big fat lump."

The boy laughed. "Sounds like you don't like your family much. So you're a Dursley? I'm not familiar with that family – your parents are our kind, aren't they?"

"They were a wizard and a witch, if that's what you mean. They're dead. I live with my aunt and uncle, they're Muggles."

"Muggles! That's horrible! Well that explains why you don't like them." The boy looked disgusted. "Sorry about your parents. I know a lot of people lost family in the war."

"Yeah, it is pretty horrible. I hate living with them."

"Well of course you do! But you're off to Hogwarts now – among your own kind."

"I like the sound of that. It's why I didn't object to going off with Hagrid – the wizarding world sounds amazing. And he's been really nice to me, even if he is an angry drunk who can't even get through the morning without going off to a pub for another drink. I think he's hungover, and the cart ride at Gringotts upset his stomach more. Hmph. Drinking while on school business." Harry sniffed disapprovingly. "Uncle Vernon's just the same. He starts drinking brandy at ten in the morning, on weekends. He gets violent sometimes too, but he'd never hurt Dudley. Dudley's my cousin."

"Disgusting. Father and mother only drink a glass or two of wine with dinner, and they never get drunk," said the boy proudly. "So what's your name, anyway?"

"Harry Potter."

The boy glanced at his forehead. "Are you really? I heard you were living secretly in Potter manor being tended to by an army of devoted house elves who cater to your every whim."

Harry swept the hair off his forehead to expose his scar. "No, definitely not being spoiled by elves. Did you want to see my scar as proof? Everyone in the pub did. Are you going to shake my hand and congratulate me on having dead parents?"

"How gauche," sneered the boy. "My name's Draco Malfoy, by the way. And I think I can help introduce you to a better sort of people than that, if you like." Harry beamed with delight. It was almost like making a friend.

"I'd like that, Draco."

"That's you done, my dear," said Madam Malkin, and Harry hopped down from the footstool, feeling very sorry he had to go.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the boy with a drawl. "Hopefully in Slytherin."

"What makes it the best?"

The boy's eyes widened. "Don't you know about the houses?"

"I don't know anything. Raised by Muggles, remember?"

"But didn't someone teach you anything about our world? I know you get visitors. The Daily Prophet has an article every Halloween about how well you're doing – there's usually a photo too. A weird one that doesn't move."

"I know nothing," snapped Harry. "And I've never had a single wizard or witch visit me, unless you count random strange people in cloaks who shake my hand in the street for no reason and then walk off. That's happened once or twice. I saw one of them in the Leaky Cauldron, actually."

"Well, to answer your question," said Draco, "Slytherin is the house of the ambitious and cunning. The home of those who love to learn, but want to apply that knowledge to the real world to help them achieve their goals. So they're different from the bookworms in Ravenclaw who are smart but impractical – they're intelligent but don't have a lot of direction, or social skills. Gryffindor is the house of the brave, so they say. Also the house of the foolish and headstrong – my godfather says there's a lot of bullies in that house, it's very rowdy. Hufflepuff has the leftovers – the cowardly, the stupid, and the unambitious. They can be quite a quiet, harmless lot apparently, and the house is known for patience and working hard. But I'd rather go home in shame than end up there – father would be so disappointed. All our family has been in Slytherin for generations. Slytherins stick together and help each other – it's the best house by far."

"It certainly sounds like the best choice to me, too," said Harry, sounding impressed. "Well, I guess I have to go," he said reluctantly, gesturing at Hagrid waiting outside with dripping ice-creams.

"You're welcome to sit with me on the train, if you like?" said Draco. "And you can owl me, of course. Draco Malfoy at Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire."

"I don't have an owl," said Harry, disappointed.

"Then buy one," said Draco, mystified.

"I will!" beamed Harry, remembering that he had money now, and plenty of it. "I'm at 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, if you want to write to me too. You know, if you want to be friends," he finished hesitantly.

"Certainly," said Draco. His father would hopefully be pleased. He'd told Draco once that Harry must've been very powerful to defeat the Dark Lord as a baby, and power should never be scorned or ignored. And it wouldn't in any case be wise to seem less than friendly with the one who'd defeated the Dark Lord, given most people's opinion of the matter. Not that Draco cared much anyway, it was all so long ago – ancient history.

Harry hurried out with his new robes to join Hagrid, and chatted with him about what Quidditch was. He didn't want to seem too ignorant when he wrote to his new friend. He had a friend.

"Can we get an owl, Hagrid?"

"All right, but we have to get yer other school supplies first. An' I haven't got yeh a birthday present, so we'll make it yer present. Owls are dead useful for carryin' yer post an' everythin'."

There were a lot of beautiful owls at Eeylops Owl Emporium, and Harry got to select the one he liked best. After a lot of thought he chose a handsome long-eared owl, with dark tufts of feathers sticking up on top of its head like two pointy ears, and stripes of pale feathers in a deep V shape that made it look like it had eyebrows. It looked very mysteriously spooky and wizard-like, he thought. Its soft feathers were vertically streaked with different shades of brown and white, and the ear tufts were dark brown. Its eyes were beautiful disks of golden-orange, with round dark pupils. He chose the largest one, which he was surprised to learn was a female – the females were larger than the males. Hagrid bought the owl, and Harry bought a perch, cage, and a number of other owl care items out of his own money. He was a bit disturbed by the small cage of young mice the shopkeep recommended he buy to feed it until his owl settled into its new home and learnt the best places to hunt. They looked so cute – tiny balls of fluff running and jumping around their cage like popcorn popping in a pan. He bought some anyway – he knew what it was like to be hungry, and didn't want to inflict that on his lovely new pet. She hooted softly at him as he held her on his arm and patted her gently, she made a breathy "whoo, whoo" sound just like he thought an owl should. Many of the other owls in the shop didn't hoot like that; who knew owls made such a wide variety of calls?

After they'd completed all of Harry's shopping Harry got dropped back at Little Whinging by Hagrid. Somehow the Dursleys had made it home safely, despite being abandoned on a tiny rock in the middle of nowhere with no food, and no boat to get back to the mainland since Hagrid had stolen it. He hoped they wouldn't take it out on him, and luckily (and to his amazement), they didn't.

Harry's last month with the Dursleys was blissful, with his own room, a bit more food, and an owl (whom he named Hedwig) to carry letters to his new friend. Draco was very helpful in answering lots of questions about the wizarding world, and if he occasionally sounded a bit sarcastic or unbelieving, well, Harry didn't blame him for that too much. He snarked at Dudley a lot himself when Dudley said something especially stupid. Harry was going to learn all about his new world, and then he wouldn't sound like such an idiot needing to ask questions about basic things that everyone else knew all about. Thank goodness, no, thank Merlin that he had Draco to write to. Why, without him he would've had no idea how to get to Platform 9 ¾ - just think what a bad start to the year it would've been to miss the train! Things would've been very different.

A/N: I'll probably keep this just as a one-shot, though I do plan to expand on and improve the ending a bit more at some point. This Harry will be sorted into Slytherin without a moment's hesitation on his part!