Harry Potter:Raised by Wolves

"You mean no one told you? Merlin, it's like they want you to die," Malfoy muttered disparagingly. "Sirius Black? Ring any bells?"

"Wait—the escaped criminal? What's he got to do with anything?" Harry asked, frowning.

Malfoy sighed impatiently. "Do those glasses even work, Potter? His face is plastered on wanted posters all over Diagon Alley. He broke out of Azkaban."

"Yeah, I know that," Harry replied slowly, wondering why he should be any more worried than everyone else.

"He was one of the Dark Lord's most loyal supporters. And, rumor has it," Malfoy said with a vicious smirk, "he's after you, Potter."

Harry's heart stuttered. "What?"

"He's coming for you. Talking in his sleep, always the same words—'He's at Hogwarts.' He wants revenge for his Lord, so you'd better watch out, Potty."

Malfoy sounded gleeful, but something in his expression suggested he was also slightly disturbed that Harry had been left alone under the circumstances.

Harry thought about all the times he'd been unguarded—his trip to Muggle London, his forays into the emptier parts of Diagon Alley. No wonder Fudge had been waiting for him when he'd arrived; he probably thought Black had already gotten to him.

But in that case, why hadn't he been given a guard?

Shaking his head, deciding it was probably part of some elaborate Dumbledore scheme, Harry turned back to Malfoy. "Well, he's not likely to show up in the middle of Diagon Alley, is he? I'm perfectly safe."

"Are you?" Malfoy retorted with a smirk. "I suppose at least you can defend yourself here. If you were actually capable of that, anyway," he added mockingly.

Harry stared blankly at him.

"Sweet Salazar, they really don't tell you anything." Malfoy rolled his eyes and pulled out his wand. Instinctively, Harry took a step back, but all Malfoy did was send out a trail of green sparks, which formed a hissing snake before fading. "Underage magic can't be traced in Diagon Alley," he informed Harry smugly. "There are too many people around for them to tell who cast what. As long as no one sees you, you can cast whatever you like."

"Well, I wish I'd known that before I got here," Harry muttered, thinking of all the spells in A Hundred Spells Every Wizard Should Know that he'd been desperate to try out for days. Two whole weeks, wasted!

"Why are you telling me all this, Malfoy?" Harry asked, eyeing him warily. "I'd have thought you'd love to see Sirius Black get me."

"There's something different about you, Potter," Malfoy remarked, scrutinizing him with arms crossed. "I feel like it's going to make this year… interesting. It'd be a shame if you died before I got to see how Weasley reacts to your new look."

Harry blinked as Malfoy's eyes flicked over his jacket. "Silverling's isn't cheap."

That caught him off guard. He hadn't expected Malfoy to notice his clothes, much less recognize where he'd bought them. But the realization made his stomach clench; if Malfoy noticed, then Ron definitely would. Would he think Harry was flaunting his money? Ron had always been sensitive about that sort of thing.

"Draco!"

The unmistakable voice of Narcissa Malfoy called from down the street, and Malfoy jerked his head in her direction.

"Draco, dear, we have an appointment."

"See you at school, Potter," Malfoy sneered.

"Malfoy!" Harry called just as he turned to leave.

Malfoy paused, raising an eyebrow.

"Thanks. For the information. I'll see you at school."

He smiled, and Malfoy looked momentarily baffled before hurrying after his mother.

Harry turned away, his feet leading him back toward the Leaky Cauldron.

He had spells to practice.

As for Sirius Black—he wasn't going to worry about him. Like he'd said, the man wasn't about to pop up in the middle of Diagon Alley and snatch him. If no one else seemed concerned enough to assign him a guard, then he wasn't going to stress over it.

He was, however, going to worry about what Malfoy meant about this year being interesting.

Oddly enough, he felt almost pleased to have had an entire conversation with Malfoy without either of them threatening to hex the other. But Malfoy's parting words about Ron settled uncomfortably in his chest. The last thing Harry wanted was to make his best friend feel uncomfortable—but he wasn't going to do so at the expense of his own happiness.

He shook his head, trudging up to his room, forcing himself to focus on which spells to practice first.

He'd deal with Ron when he got to Hogwarts.

As for Malfoy—maybe Harry had misjudged him.

Time would tell.

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