Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, it belongs to JK Rowling, etc etc.

A/N: Okay, IMPORTANT NOTICE here. If people are expecting these years to be really long then you will be disappointed. I'm not going to go into great detail on the early years, mainly because not much of notice happens in them. Year three will be quite short, but it will contain an interesting plot (at least I hope it's interesting). After that, I think the years will begin to get longer as the characters grow older. Regarding this chapter, it's just an introduction to the year, so it isn't very long. Hope you enjoy it despite this. Thanks for reading.

The Riddle House stood, bleak and derelict, looking down on the village of Little Hangleton. Inside, two figures and the largest snake you have ever seen crowded around a recently lit fire. The first figure was a woman, cruelly beautiful, aristocratically brutal. The second figure was barely a figure at all. It was in the shape of a frail, premature baby, but with scarlet eyes and a flat, snakelike nose. The "baby" was nestled in an armchair, wrapped in a large black cloak. Wrapped around the base of the chair, the large snake Nagini curled protectively.

'The ritual is almost ready, my Lord,' Bellatrix was saying.

'You just need to get one more thing,' Voldemort said, his voice unnaturally high.

'The girl, then?'

'The girl,' Lord Voldemort confirmed.

'Right away, my Lord,' Bellatrix said, bowing low to her master.

'Do not fail me, Bella,' Voldemort ordered. 'It would be a shame for me to have to kill you. After all you have told me.'

'Of course,' Bellatrix said, standing upright again. 'I will never fail you, my Lord. I exist to serve you. Soon, you will be whole again, and then you will rule this world, and I by your side. We will cleanse it.'

'You attach too much significance to yourself,' Voldemort said coldly.

'Sorry, my Lord,' Bellatrix grovelled. 'I simply meant that I will gladly serve you until I die. I only wish to die in a world ruled by your magnificence.'

'Then I suggest you get to work,' Voldemort commanded. 'Without the girl, I will never be reborn.'

'Yes, my Lord.'

Bellatrix Lestrange Apparated away, leaving Voldemort and his loyal snake companion behind.

Sitting before her computer at her home in Oxford, Hermione Granger was doing some detective work. It was about Harry Potter and Emily Tucker - something was just off with them. At times, they seemed to share a bond that went beyond friendship, but she couldn't quite place it. It was as if the entire world was their in-joke, and only they understood it. They constantly shared conspiring looks, seeming to know what the other was thinking. A bond like that wasn't a normal friendship.

At first she thought they might be boyfriend and girlfriend, but they just didn't show any intimate actions towards each other - at least not in public. Maybe they did it in private? Hermione didn't know, but she was determined to find out just what the situation with them was. First step was to find out if any Tucker's lived near Harry's Muggle family.

They claimed to be childhood friends, which could explain their unusually close friendship. Maybe that was the truth, but Hermione was going to find out for sure. So she had logged onto her father's computer and began a search of all the Tucker's living in Surrey. Only one. She jotted down the name of the street and crosschecked it with a map of Surrey.

The address was only a few streets away from Privet Drive.

So they could be telling the truth.

'Hermione! We have a visitor!' The voice of her mother reached her from downstairs.

Hermione logged off the computer with a click of the mouse and started downstairs.

'Coming mum!'

Corresponding address or no, Hermione was going to keep an eye on Harry Potter and Emily Tucker.

'Timothy, no, don't do that!'

The voice of the Matron was grating to Draco's ears. He shot her back a scathing look as she pried the wand from little Timothy's hands and quickly got up to leave the room. The sounds of the wizarding orphanage muted slightly as he left the house and entered the back garden. Finding a spare bench, he sat down and leant back with his eyes closed.

Following his shameful sorting into Gryffindor, his father had disowned him, leaving him free to do whatever he wanted. Unfortunately, it also meant that he had no way to support himself. Dumbledore had informed him at the end of the year that a place at Merdiths Orphanage for Wizards had been arranged for him. With no other option, he had complied with the arrangement.

The transition from spoilt rich kid to dirt-poor orphan wasn't one he was taking well. The only things he owned were his school textbooks, potions equipment, a frail quill, some ink, and his too short, shabby robes. He had sent a letter to his father during the school year, kindly asking for him to forward some of his clothes and things. He didn't hear back for over a month. Finally, he received a short, scribbled reply from his mother, informing him that his father had burnt everything he cared about - his designer robes, his large selection of books, even his most cherished possession, his sleek broomstick. He owned nothing of worth.

Hogwarts provided him with enough money to buy second hand books and new robes, but the funds were anything but extensive. He'd have to make do with what he could get, which wasn't something he was used to.

He didn't get any sympathy from his new housemates, or any of the other houses, for that matter. In fact, most seemed to enjoy his new fortune. Not that he expected anything different. He couldn't care less what everyone else said. He knew, in his heart, that the Sorting Hat was crazy for putting him in Gryffindor. What hurt was that his true housemates hadn't stuck by him, despite his obvious ties to Slytherin. Didn't it matter what he wanted? Who cared about that stupid hat! Wasn't it where you wanted to be that mattered, not where you ended up?

Unfortunately, he seemed to be the only one who saw things that way.

Draco sighed with lonely resignation. The only person who seemed remotely inclined to offer him friendship was the one he wanted least to do with. What was Potter playing at? Was he really so naive to think Draco could be anything but a Slytherin? It was infuriating.

'So, how does it feel?'

Draco cracked open an eye and glared at the silhouette blocking out the light.

'How does it feel to be here, sleeping with the dregs, rich boy?'

'Just leave me alone,' Draco drawled.

'No,' the other boy said, hands on his hips, flanked by two other boys, 'I don't think I will. Will I guys?'

The other two boys laughed.

'We think it's so funny to see you here,' the boy went on. 'Miss your mummy? Your daddy's money? To think, you're so pathetic even your own father can't stand you.'

'Open your mouth again and I'll stuff my fist in it,' Draco threatened.

'Oooh, I'm so scared,' the boy said, laughing and looking at both his friends.

When he turned to face Draco again, he was met with a fist to the face. He went down fast, Draco on top of him, pummelling everything he could reach. He had the advantage for about ten seconds. Then the other two boys stepped in, kicking Draco in the head as he straddled the leader of their little trio.

Draco tried to fight back, but it was three against one. In the end, two minutes later, he was lying on his side, clutching his bruised ribs, eyes dizzy and puffy with tears, lip and nose busted and leaking blood. The leader looked down on him, wiping blood from under his nose where Draco had hit him.

'Come on guys,' he said, speaking to his friends, 'let's leave this piece of garbage alone. He's not even worth beating on anymore.'

With a shared laugh with his friends, he spat down at Draco and swaggered off, king of the mountain - or the orphanage anyway. Draco lay like that for a while, before picking himself up and going to the bathroom to clean up.

He couldn't help but wonder at the world - how had he, Draco Malfoy, ended up like this?