Chapter 3: Diagon Alley

Three Years Later

Hasan Castell felt trapped. No, scratch that, he was trapped. In this body and in this dream...

The past three years had been wonderful: Altair had taught him all he needed to know to excel in his first year of Hogwarts, from social norms, to prejudices, to spells, texts, and self-defense. Altair had called him a natural, and loved to watch his son burgeon before his eyes. But Altair, as we know, had a knack for finding himself where he should never have been. Apart from this apparent luck, however, he was just a human like all the rest. He didn't even notice Hasan's distress at all. Perhaps it was because it wasn't Hasan's distress but Harry's.

Hasan liked to separate the two, though he knew they were the same. (He wasn't that stupid.) It just made it easier if...if one day he woke up and it was all gone. The magic, the spells, his father. He'd wake up and just be Harry, and life would go on. The thought terrified him. He wanted to be Hasan with all his heart! But he knew the truth. Now, if only his reflection would understand.

Hasan touched his face in the mirror, tracing his rounder jawline, jade-green eyes, and average brown eyebrows. Sometimes he imagined he could see himself...his old self- in the mirror, but a blink later and he was gone. His hair had grown some in the past years, only hindered by two annual haircuts, so that it fell gracefully to his waist. That was another thing he missed: his inky hair that wouldn't lie flat no matter what he did. This style was just too tame, too controlled.

He fought against making a metaphor for his life, and opted to just stare. Stare at the him that wasn't him. If dad found out...would he hate Hasan for deceiving him?

Which brought Hasan to his next issue: He was alone. It did not matter that Altair loved him, because Altair loved Hasan, and Harry was pretending. Harry had never truly left Red Mill's Hill: he was still there, staring into the sky, and dreaming.

It broke his heart.

.oOo.

:Hassssan: Tina slithered into the bathroom, sliding up onto the counter.

:Yes, Tina?: Hasan hissed back.

:You are still dreaming that you are not you.:

If snakes could look sympathetic, then that was exactly how Tina looked right now. She was white at the moment but for a large black dot on her back.

Hasan sighed softly.

:But I am not I: Hasan hissed sadly, running his fingers over her scales. He was still in his pajamas, but to be fair, it was only five o'clock. He had been up early for today was July 31st.

:That iss sstupid human logic.: Tina told him firmly, :I can be pure white (the black dot disappeared) and then change ssso I am pitch black. (She demonstrated). Yet, I am alwasysss I.:

This managed to bring a smile to the boy's face as the snake changed to a calm turquoise.

"Yeah, I know." Hasan mumbled to himself. He knew he was being melodramatic, but today just brought back thoughts...He splashed water on his face, stroked Tina, and then exited the bathroom.

Perhaps the one thing he missed most was his eyes.

.oOo.

Downstairs, Altair was sipping his coffee with the Daily Prophet opened out onto the table. He always got a bunch whenever Severus came around (which was every month) and therefore, his news was always outdated. But still! He enjoyed keeping up with Wizarding Britain. He still hadn't told Severus of his young charge yet...but why did the man need to know everything?

He was probably more knowledgeable than most of the Wizarding World from being with the Dark Lord and Gan- Dumbledore all the time. Well, not so much the Dark Lord now for he was supposedly dead by some Harry Potter or other. Which reminded him: Harry Potter was going to be going to Hogwarts this year. What a coincidence!

"Morning, Hasan!" Altair cried cheerfully, waving his month-old newspaper with a flourish.

"Morning, Dad." Hasan said, trying not to fall into nostalgia at the name. Honestly, it was just a name! He could be Harry anytime he wanted! Yeah...he couldn't even lie to himself.

Altair dramatically read the last few lines of the paper (making it clear when he had finished reading) as Hasan grabbed some croissants, before shouting, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY SON!"

Hasan smiled at his overenthusiastic father, and settled in beside him with a cup of hot tea and his breakfast.

"I feel old." Hasan grumbled playfully. "If I'm only eleven I wonder what Gandalf feels like."

"It only gets worse from here, son!" Altair ruffled Hasan's hair affectionately, though it straightened back out in seconds. Another thing Hasan tried to ignore.

"Did you see the mail yet?" Altair asked nonchalantly while taking a small sip of his coffee.

"No, I'll-" But as Hasan turned around, Altair swiftly shoved an envelope right under his nose.

"Wha-!" Hasan gaped, before taking the heavy parchment in his hands.

There was an insignia of a lion, snake, badger, and raven, pressed in red wax, which Hasan immediately correlated to the four houses of Hogwarts. Altair told him all about them, plus some other miscellaneous information on some cup of Helga's, diadem of Ravenclaw's and other such nonsense...

Hasan turned over the envelope and read:

Mr. H Castell

The Second Bedroom

Castell Estate, France

"See, this place is so unplottable, we don't even have a proper address!" Altair said happily, taking a generous bite of his food.

"It really came." Hasan breathed, tearing open the letter and reading it hungrily.

"Of course it did! I wouldn't have prepped you on fourth year incantations if I didn't think you'd get in, would I?"

Hasan looked at him dubiously. The man would've prepared for everything and anything if only they had time.

"So does this mean I get a real wand now? I don't need to borrow yours?"

Altair grinned. "Yes! But you know, it's not my fault they upped the wand age."

Hasan grinned playfully, "And you're just oh so law abiding, aren't you?"

.oOo.

Three years ago, Hasan would have only been dreaming of wizards with long gray beards and magical staffs, hoping and hoping to wake up one day and be one. He still wasn't sure if he accepted it-who he was- or was becoming. Or that what he lived as Hasan was not all some elaborate, imaginative, dream. To be honest, Hasan knew very well. He wasn't an idiot. But he still couldn't help but feel somewhat guilty whenever he remembered who he really was.

Birthdays tended to trigger bothersome emotions like that.

Altair smiled at him as they entered Diagon Alley in through the Leaky Cauldron, and past the brick wall which Altair tapped opened with a grin.

("Hey isn't that?" Tom asked as the ends of their cloaks disappeared out the door. "No, couldn't be.")

Hasan was amazed at the sheer 'magicalness' of everything and wondered how, three years ago, he had missed all the colorful robes and hats. Everything was just so exciting! In France, they had to disguise themselves as muggles, not daring to go into the Wizarding World until it was time. Plus, it wouldn't do any good to be caught in something or other with a foreign government. They didn't do anything that would warrant such attention, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

All around them were families and many many children, and teens getting ready for the coming school year. They had on wizards' robes and witches' hats, and some even had owls in cages! When Hasan first confessed to seeing the owls, Altair had only laughed and told him that many owls were disillusioned so that muggles couldn't see them, and the few that did, didn't think much of it. Altair wasn't a muggle hater, but he did think they were rather doltish sometimes, and being raised in a pureblood family, he was more than aware of the blood prejudices. Thus, Hasan knew all about them too.

.oOo.

Hasan was dressed in a grey v-neck and black jeans, with a white scarf to keep him warm. His brown hair was in a thick braid hanging in front of his right shoulder. Altair, glamored to look older, beside him, donning his usual black cloak and keeping his eyes on where they were going. The two passed the apothecary, the quidditch store, Gringott's (they really didn't want to inadvertently set off any alarms), a second-hand robes shop, as well as many others that Hasan just couldn't take in at once. Finally, they reached the very end of the strip, and Altair immediately steered him into an ancient-looking edifice that was supposedly a fine wand shop by the dusty sign out front. But stepping inside, Hasan knew instantly that this was a very genuine place.

Stacks and rows and shelves, of boxes upon boxes of wands lined every surface of the room. Altair was starting to get a mild headache from all the magical energy in the shop and pressed a hand wearily to his forehead.

"Hello?" Altair called out, wanting to be gone as soon as possible, which meant beginning as soon as possible. Just then, an elderly man with wild white hair and myriad wrinkles appeared from behind a shelf, so full, that nothing could be seen behind it.

"Why, hello there! Just be a minute!" Ollivander called out, followed by a crashing sound.

Hasan looked questioningly at his father and frowned in concern when he saw how the man was suffering.

"Why don't you wait outside?" Hasan suggested gently, "I'll just be a minute. Perhaps you could get the other things on the list?"

Altair was reluctant to leave Hasan by himself, but then again, he wasn't too peachy about his migraine either.

"Alright, Hasan. I'll meet you in front of the Menagerie, yes?"

Hasan nodded, and the man was happy to be out the door at last. Many parents would find that buying their child's first wand is a simply resplendent experience, but Hasan had been wielding wands and other weapons for a while now. This was only like replacing a pair of shoes for Altair!

Hasan didn't mind in the least really. He turned to face front- and then immediately rethought that statement, for right in front of him stood the wand-maker, and his silvery eyes that seemed to stare straight into the depths of Hasan's soul. Perhaps he should have had Altair stay?

"Hasan, is it?" Ollivander asked with lips quivering in a sort of smile.

Hasan gave slightly less than graceful nod, for it seemed that Ollivander knew him. Him, as in him, him.

"Yes, sir." Hasan answered dutifully, trying and failing to peel his eyes away.

"Hmm." the man seemed lost for a second, but then jerked back to life. "Well, we best get started then. Which arm would be your wand arm, boy?"

"Right."

The man nodded thoughtfully as a measuring tape floated off the desk and began to take calculations. It was similar to when he went robe shopping, or rather, when Monsieur Etienne came to the house, provided Altair with what he needed, and then left without any recollection of what just happened. But this was far more interesting! Everything from his hands to his eyes were measured and it continually just kept moving about! Meanwhile, Ollivander had whirled around and snatched a few dozen boxes seemingly at random. Once the measuring tape settled back down, he tossed a box to Hasan, who caught it, and then eyed him in confusion.

"Just wave it around." Ollivander said like it was obvious but without any trace of haughtiness. Hasan barely brushed against it when the box was taken from his grasp, and replaced with another. Hasan swallowed nervously and tried again, but to the same result.

"Ooh, a tough one! I like challenges." the old man was muttering to himself. "Hmm, perhaps?"

Another box was given to him, and Hasan's fingers managed to hold it, before it was again removed from his fingers.

"Ah! But maybe—?" Hasan was beginning to wish that Altair had stayed for surely this man was mad as a hatter! There was a stack of about fifty wands piled higgly-piggly up on the desk, which was already cluttered with notes and such things. It seemed like he was never going to find a wand just for him, but then, Ollivander returned with yet another wand. Miraculously, the wand-maker seemed to grow happier as the search lengthened and it did a wonder for his face.

"Eleven inches, holly wood, containing exactly one phoenix feather." Ollivander announced. Hasan's fingers wrapped around it, and a sudden warmth ran up his spine. "Wave it!" Ollivander commanded.

Hasan's face broke into a broad smile and he flicked the wand expertly around (though he needn't have) to be rewarded with a bright shower of silver and gold sparks.

"Yes! Yes!" Ollivander was shouting, hands clasped in joy. "And that, Mr. Potter, is a very curious thing indeed."

The sparks ceased instantly.

"Is my appearance down?" Hasan asked pleasantly, feigning nonchalance.

"Oh no, Mr. Potter. I must say, I was second guessing my intuition except that, well that is to say, up until you tried that wand." Ollivander confessed, silver eyes boring into Hasan's as he paid for the wand in shiny, newly converted francs to Galleons.

"What do you mean?" Hasan queried suspiciously. "What about this wand?"

"The wand chooses the wizard- always remember that. But it just so happens that, that wand...Why, its brother gave you that scar."

Hasan gaped at him.

"I got hit in the head with a stick?" Hasan cried in disbelief. Freak, orphan, dreamer, and now...the most pitiful person on earth. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon told him he got it in the car crash that killed his parents, but he liked to believe in his free time that he got it from a heroic battle- like the fatal arrow gone astray, or the blow that nearly killed him. Though he knew both of these were absolutely false, for how could a baby fight? Or better yet, survive? Still, if others at the orphanage asked about it, he would feed them the first creative story that came to mind: I got it when I almost died. The other kids were so freaked out they never asked again.

Ollivander's face fell flat in horror. "Ooooh, dear..." he groaned, his gaze wavering for a split second. Then he seemed to revive himself. "Well, I believe your father is outside!" and then he ushered the boy out before Hasan could process that he wanted to know, more than he wanted to be gone from the man's gaze.

.oOo.

True to his word, there stood Altair outside of the wand-shop, holding a small black owl in a silver cage. Hasan gave one look at the owl before running to hug his father.

"Hey, son." he greeted. "I admit, I hadn't thought it would take as long. But, it all working out, didn't it? You now have your very own wand, and I managed to find this little guy. Happy birthday, Hasan."

"He's ("she's" Altair coughed) oh, she's for me?" Hasan breathed in disbelief, "Thank you so much, dad!"

"Yes, she reminded me of you for some reason." Altair recalled thoughtfully. "She's small, but I don't know. I just tend trust my gut with these sorts of things."

"She's lovely!" Hasan beamed. "What's her name?"

"It's up to you, Hasan. Just, please, name her something creative, won't you?"

Hasan snorted, "Yeah, like Tina? Fine then," he grumbled playfully, "How about Raven?"

Altair stopped in his tracks, "Please don't tell me you're serious!"

Hasan's jade eyes widened dramatically. "Why? You said be creative-!"

"Yes, but Raven?"

"Alright, alright! Goodness, it was only a joke." Hasan stared at his new familiar with innocently large eyes. "Do you like Raven?" he asked her. She hooted once with what Hasan insisted was joy. "See, dad! She loves the name."

Altair heaved a heavy sigh. "Fine, just remind me never to let you name something else ever again."

Raven squawked indignantly and spread her little wings.

Hasan grinned. "Don't listen to him Raven! He's just jealous because he's stuck with the name Altair!"

Altair grinned fondly down at his young charge, and knew he had made the right decision. He had been tempted to get a large, snowy white owl, but knew that Hasan appreciated stealth and discreetness in all things. Raven (he shuddered inwardly), just seemed to call to him, not to mention she was an adorable mass of feathers. Not that, not that Altair really thought things could be adorable...

"Where are we off to now?" Hasan asked eagerly. "I've already got my wand, robes, owl...!"

They continued to walk, passing a quidditch supply shop where a mass of kids were oohing over some broom called the Nimbus 2000. Hasan had only gone flying a handful of times, and though he was talented, he rather preferred staying on his own two feet, thank you very much. There were just too many dangers with flying that Altair was quick to point out by jinxing his broom those number of times. Hasan wasn't terribly interested anyway. Maybe it was because brooms circled about quidditch, and sports never appealed to Hasan. Kids at the orphanage would play ball from time to time, but Hasan just sat alone and read his book. He barely gave the broom a glance.

"We can head to the book store, then the Cauldron shop. Maybe we'll even have dinner out tonight at the Leaky Cauldron, and then finish off the day with ice cream at Fortescue's?" Altair was saying, stopping outside of the book store. Hasan looked up at Altair with pure love in his eyes. He nodded excitedly, knowing that it cost the man much to be out in public, for Altair was supposed to be dead, he knew. Which made it all the more meaningful. This was the best birthday yet!

The two spent the next two hours buying supplies and conversing with shop owners to see which brand they preferred or what texts they recommended for enrichment reading. While Altair was paying for his potion's supplies- the last items on the list, thank the heavens! -Hasan was occupied studying a reaction chart. It had a list of potion ingredients on one side, and when touched, it would explain the properties, and how to neutralize or emphasize a certain feature. It was rather fascinating, for Hasan was curious about the potions his father took each month, but had yet to try his hand at the art of potions making.

"Oh, is that very fascinating?" a cheery voice spoke from over his shoulder.

"Oh-!" Hasan slowly turned to find a girl his age, with bushy brown hair, soft chocolate eyes, and a dazzling smile. He had been so engrossed by the chart that he hadn't even notice her sneak up on him!

"I'm Hermione Granger by the way. What's your name?"

Hasan smiled warmly as he shut the book and slipped it back on the shelf.

"I call myself Hasan Castell." he said. His eyes flickered to her obviously muggle clothes, and then to her parents (the lost looking, but curious people in the doorway), and realized that she must be a muggleborn. "Do you need help finding anything?" Hasan asked sweetly.

"Oh no! I just bought my things but then I saw you and thought I should really see if you've found something interesting!" she spoke swiftly, but seemed comfortable enough in his presence. It must have been some habit, Hasan thought. "I'm super excited for Hogwarts!" the girl went on, "I've read up on everything I can! Did you know that the Boy-Who-Lived will be in our year? I can't wait to meet him! I bet he's super courageous. That would put him in Gryffindor, I suppose. I think I'm much more of a Ravenclaw, but I don't know. I'd really love to be with Harry."

Hasan gulped, "Harry?"

"Oh, yes? Didn't you know? Harry Potter's the Boy-Who-Lived! They say he's got a lightning bolt scar! Yes, right on his forehead! You didn't know?"

Hasan nodded at her absently, though his mind was racing. The Boy-Who-Lived? Harry Potter? How could it be that a muggleborn knew all this and yet, he did not? He'd have to ask Altair about it later.

"Oh, I really like your owl by the way!" Hermione continued, peering at Raven through the bars. "I think I might need one to send letters home and such."

"Perhaps a grey and white one? I've already got names picked out! Most are saints or have Greek significance...What's your owl's name?"

"Er, Raven." Hasan cringed.

"How creative!" Hermione beamed. "She's so small. It is a she, isn't it? Good, thank goodness! I would never have thought of a name like Raven to name an owl..." While she was rambling, Raven let out a sweet low hoot, and Hermione giggled at its adorableness.

"Oh, who's this dear?" Hermione's mother came over to greet him finally, when Hermione was seen engaged in avid conversation. Her mother had perfect white teeth and the same curly brown hair, though much calmer looking than her daughter's.

"This is Hasan, mum! Hasan, this is my mum!"

"How do you do, Hasan? I'm Helen Granger, and that's my husband Jeremy."

"Hello, Mrs. Granger." Hasan said politely.

"Is this your first year at Hogwarts, too?" she asked kindly. She wanted to help her daughter establish relationships before she was out of their grasp. It wasn't that Hermione had trouble making friends, well, it was just that others were jealous of her natural talents! Anyway, Helen mentally shook herself, she wanted what was best for her baby girl. Perhaps that's why her smile came off as so saccharine. Ironic really for a dentist.

"Yes, it is." Hasan told her proudly. "I understand Hermione's going to be in my year too. At least we'll both be going in with a friend." Hasan said this all with such innocence that Hermione's eyes watered, and Helen's gratitude rolled off her in waves.

"Oh, do you really mean it Hasan? I mean, I'm so glad we're friends!" Hermione squealed, before fluidly hugging him within her step. Helen beamed at the two children, knowing that Hasan was a good match for her child. Hermione could be somewhat pushy at times, but Hasan seemed calm and patient enough to take it.

"Hermione, did you want that book?" Helen asked, needing a diversion to stop her from tearing up, by pointing to the reaction chart. Hermione nodded vigorously- she would never deny more books- and Helen called her husband over (he was currently admiring some no-grease: hair protector,) to pay for it. That's when Altair made his appearance, looking one minute like an ominous secret agent emerging behind a shelf, the next like a welcoming old father.

"Hello, pleased to meet you. Altair Castell at your service!" Altair smiled broadly at Hermione and her mother alternatively.

"Helen, a pleasure, and this is my daughter Hermione."

"She's a first year just like me." Hasan whispered helpfully. Altair nodded, glad to be privy of such information when he could 'stick a face to it,' and said with as much regret as he could muster: "I'm terribly sorry, but Hasan and I must get going..."

"Oh don't be, we were just on our way as well!" Helen informed them as Jeremy returned with the now paid for book. Hermione gave Hasan one last tentative hug before scampering after her parents to the Owl Emporium.

"Muggleborn?" Altair asked lightly as they exited the shop and headed to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Yes. She seems rather bright for an eleven year old." Hasan remarked.

"Right, because it is such a pain to be around dunderheads all the time, isn't it?" Altair joked, knowing that Hasan was wise beyond his years.

"Of course." Hasan returned playfully as they turned into the pub.

.oOo.

The interior of the Leaky Cauldron was just as Hasan remembered: it was warm, cozy, and extraordinarily loud! They ordered their food and Hasan got a hot chocolate as Altair drank his butterbeer. Hasan looked around at all the witches and wizards before noticing a rather large man. His head nearly reached the ceiling! And that was saying something for the ceiling was quite high.

"Ah! That is Rubeus Hagrid, keeper of the keys at Hogwarts." Altair said, following his son's gaze. "I think he's also half-giant... or at least that's what I've heard." (Altair tended to hear all sorts of odd knowledge.)

Hasan listened closely as the half-giant began to speak animatedly with Tom:

"An' I delivered 'im there! I took 'im ter live with those muggles! Even the headmaster thought it was fer the best!" Hagrid wailed quietly.

"Perhaps he has been adopted by someone else?" Tom suggested helplessly.

"No, I wen ter the orphanage righ' before an' they say they've never seen 'im. Those muggles were lying! Probably turned 'im out on the streets!" Hagrid sighed. "Well, if ya see 'im. I've a got ter get a package fer Professor Dumbledore."

With that, Hagrid made to leave, except that he bumped into someone he greeted as Professor Quirrell. Quirrell seemed to babble a lot and his eyes kept dancing frantically around the room. Altair made a grunt that captured Hasan's attention immediately.

"What is it?" Hasan enquired.

"That...man. Stay away from him, Hasan. I'm getting rolls of dark magic off him." The likes of which he hadn't even seen since...the Dark Lord. "I think he's going to be teaching, just try not to get any detentions with him..." Altair whispered.

"Dark magic?" Hasan enquired. "If he teaches DADA, then shouldn't he be exposed-?"

Altair was shaking his head. "This is different Hasan. Very different."

.oOo.

After their early dinner, Altair and Hasan were on their merry way to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, when in the distance, a group of wizards in brown trench coats were huddled in front of Gringott's.

"Aurors?" Hasan asked. Altair nodded grimly and led Hasan away. "Why are there aurors?" he asked again when Altair ignored him. "They couldn't have found you, you know. Maybe they're looking for that missing boy. The one Hagrid was talking about?"

Altair frowned. He was torn between staying and giving Hasan a treat of freedom, but he was also terrified. Aurors were aurors no matter their current purpose and if somehow, they recognized him. Asked him a question. Saw Hasan with him. Oh, dear. He quickly cast another glamor to turn his hair gray, before he was comfortable enough to continue on to the parlor.

Hasan held on to his owl's cage, while his supplies were shrunken in his jeans' pocket. He waited patiently on the bench, staring curiously at the aurors across the street. Where they really here for one missing boy? Hasan thought back to when he had run off from Penelope's House and how no one had sent a search party out for him. Yet he couldn't bring himself to be jealous because he was just too grateful to be here. Now. In Diagon Alley. Altair had come to find him, and that was worth more than a bunch of Ministry minions anyway. Besides, he wouldn't have appreciated the attention. He felt safely tucked away behind jade green irises and dark brown hair. They were his mask of sorts, even if he knew what emerald was lurking beneath.

Suddenly, a blonde-haired boy was right in front of him, giving Raven a pointed look. When he noticed that Hasan had seen him, he straightened his posture, and said in a rather haughty voice,-

"Draco Malfoy." He had platinum blonde hair, and piercing grey eyes (for a kid at least), with a pointed chin and slight mouth. Gray robes hung over a green vest and dark gray trousers, giving him an overall studious look. "What's your name?" he all but demanded, assessing Hasan from head to toe. He seemed to decide Hasan was decent enough to be seen with for he sat himself down next to him. Hasan glimpsed Altair out of the corner of his eye- he was still in line, behind a woman with bubblegum pink hair.

"I call myself Hasan."

"You call yourself?" Draco repeated dubiously.

"Yeah, I grew up in France." Hasan explained (having come up with this years ago.) "In French, we say 'Je m'appelle,' which means I call myself."

For fear of looking slow, Draco nodded as if he understood.

"You don't have a French accent." he pointed out.

"My father's British. I rarely leave the house." Hasan said as if it were obvious. In reality, Altair just cast spells on them so that they could understand and speak French fluently, but Hasan had picked up a few things here and there. Draco blinked in surprise before smiling slightly. A recovery, Hasan noted with interest, and not a fast one either. Though he was beginning to see potential in the Malfoy boy. He adapted quickly (enough) and knew good fashion when he saw it, Hasan thought with a smirk.

"What house do you think you'll be in at Hogwarts?" Draco asked, ready to move onto a subject he knew something about.

"They all sound good," Hasan sidestepped the question, "And you?"

"Slytherin!" Draco said proudly. "My whole family's been in Slytherin, can you imagine being a Hufflepuff?" he laughed a bit at his own joke before he noticed a tall, white-haired man loom over them. He had two ice-cream cones in his hand, one with chocolate and one with vanilla- it kind of nullified his ominousness.

"Come on, Hasan." his voice was low but left no room for argument. Hasan let a mask slip onto his face, not knowing if he did something wrong, or if the aurors had come or if Draco was also covered in dark magic. He gave Draco a polite nod before letting himself be dragged off. Once they were out of earshot, Altair handed him the cone and told him they were leaving. Too many aurors, too many faces.

But Hasan knew better. As they were leaving, he managed to see a taller, prouder, and much more dangerous version of Draco emerge from where he must have been spying in the tiny shop next door. The blonde man that reminded Hasan of a type of older and more sinister Legolas, turned slowly to fix Hasan Castell in a predatory stare. He murmured a few words to his son, Draco, who then looked over at Hasan rather tactlessly, before Hasan was hidden by the crowd. It was palpable now that Altair had been scared of this boy and his father, and that just caused more questions to arise. He resolved to ask about this later as Altair apparated them out.

Draco looked from Hasan to the old white-haired man, back to his father.

"Oh, that's Hasan!" Draco answered. "He seems nice enough. Pureblood I expect."

"And his companion?" Lucius enquired.

"I'm not sure. He looks old enough to be his grandfather."

"You didn't get a last name?"

At this, Draco was looking at his father suspiciously. He never asked a lot of questions unless he knew the answer and was waiting for Draco to come to the same conclusions. But what conclusions could be drawn from a simple hello?

"No, father. They're from France, I think." Draco added rapidly, trying to appease his father. "Why? Is Hasan not a pureblood?" Draco was beginning to get very worried. His father disliked mudbloods, blood traitors, and muggles with a passion, and Draco had better avoid them if he could help it, not initiate a conversation and then been seen with the kid!

Lucius thought for a moment, then replied.

"I want you to keep an eye on him, Draco. I am not aware of a Hasan on the Black Family Tree, but that would be explained if he is from France. I do wonder why he's going to Hogwarts then if he's closer to Beauxbatons."

"He didn't have an accent either." Draco said. "But I'll keep my eye on him, Father... Oh, Mother!" he exclaimed, as the golden-blonde witch advanced with bags full of clothes...