Chapter three

Mishandling faeries...

"No Lucius, you're looking at it wrong." Dumbledore stabbed his fork into a juicy, pork sausage. "It's not about manipulation - so to speak - it's about, er, optimisation."

"Optimisation?" Lucius quirked an eyebrow.

"And maybe a little persuasion."

Lucius looked at Dumbledore in horror.

"Surely you can't mean-" he said while waving his fork accusingly in Dumbledore's direction "That-that you would do that too-"

Dumbledore chuckled, and the colour in Lucius's face drained.

"Dumbledore, that is completely immoral! That is not the correct way in dealing with faeries!" Lucius cried and shook his head in disbelief.

"Oh, calm yourself, Lucius! They really aren't human- just nasty little creatures anyway."

Lucius rose from his seat.

"Not human? Not human!" Lucius shouted, attracting the attention of the other customers.

"THAT IS A VIOLATION OF THEIR RIGHTS!" he screamed, throwing his fork in rage which landed directly against the glass holding Dumbledore's mango flavoured milkshake and tipped it over, making the sugary, mango substance splatter everywhere - including Dumbledore's nice new jacket.

"MY NICE NEW JACKET. MY NICE NEW JACKET!" Dumbledore roared in outrage "YOU JUST RUINED MY NICE NEW JACKET!"

Lucius frantically muttered an apology as Dumbledore huffed and sat down. A scantily dressed muggle waitress rushed over and cleaned up the mess. Albus and Lucius ate the remainder of their meal in silence.

Lucius's phone started ringing.

"Hello, this is Lucius Malfoy speaking." he chirped.

"Who are they?" asked Dumbledore

"It's the CIA," Lucius frowned "They want us…"

Hagrid's mission.

"I think that there's been," Hagrid tried to wheeze out from underneath the child's tight grip. "A bit of a mistake."

Hagrid looked around the room, and much to his relief the Dursley's shrugged their shoulders, confirming his right to confusion. Harry Potter began to cry tears of... joy? Hagrid tried to pry the boy off him, only for the child squeeze tighter.

"Oh, father," the boy wailed "it's been so hard, these people- they're- they're savages! I've tried to stay strong, keep my mouth shut, and wait patiently for somebody to rescue me- and oh, how difficult it has been!"

Hagrid nervously chuckled and the boy looked up at him. He wore a look of contemplation for a few short moments before furrowing his brow.

"You've grown bigger, father," Harry said slowly, eyes carefully examining Hagrid up and down.

Hagrid duct down to the boy's level, as he had seen Dumbledore do with his own student's and said: "See that's where 'yer wrong boy, I ain't 'yer father, and I've always stayed about the same height since I was twenty, meself."

Harry immediately untangled himself from the giant's waist and took a step back.

"So you're not my father?"

"Nope."

"But you sound like my father and look like him." the boy said, absolutely scandalised.

"But I ain't!"

"I suppose you are rather tall and poor and alive…" he trailed off. "Who are you?" he then asked, rather bluntly.

"Me name's Hagrid, Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby. Yeh look a lot like yeh dad, but yeh've got yeh mom's eyes." Hagrid chuckled softly "If you don't mind me asking, why did ya think I was yer father?"

"No reason, sir, I've just been feeling a little out of sorts as of late." the boy replied, with a vocabulary that did not suit his age, and frankly, made Hagrid feel very uncomfortable.

"Oh, don't worry son, we all get those days..." Hagrid said understandably.

"I demand that you leave at once, sir!" one of the muggles yelled. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room. Hagrid then turned back to Joffrey and saw how his eyes had lit up.

"That was incredible!"

"Anyway, Harry," said the giant, remembering the script Dumbledore had asked him to follow "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here- I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

As Harry was examining the contents of the squished box, Hagrid sat down on a dusty chair, almost breaking it because of his weight. He began to take out a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea, all from his coat pocket, like some sort of Mary Poppins wanna-be.

Vernon turned to his son and sharply informed him: "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."

"Yet great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."

Harry burst into hysterical laughter.

Hagrid was pleased he was able to make the formally-depressive boy happier and passed him a sausage which the child took eagerly.

"I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts," said Hagrid "Yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

"Excuse me?"

"Hogwarts!"

"I don't know what that is."

Hagrid's mouth morphed into an annoyed frown

"I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know bou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yet parents learned it all?"

"Sir, I haven't the faintest idea of what you are referring to."

"But yeh must know about yet mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous- You're famous. Surely you know who you are!"

Harry looked panicked.

"Are you implying I'm not Harry Potter?" Harry asked slowly, eyes narrowing.

"OF COURSE 'YER BLOODY HARRY POTTER!" Hagrid screamed, enraged.

Hagrid turned to the Dursleys and started to shout at them as they backed into a wall. When he turned back to face Harry, he saw him giggling like some sort of maniac.

"Harry yer-"

"A king, I know."

"No, yer a wizard!"

"-A what?" gasped Harry.

"A wizard, o' course," said Hagrid.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are," Hagrid repeated, getting annoyed.

He then passed the letter over to Harry and watched as the boy scanned over it's words.

"He's not going," one of the Dursley prunes announced.

Hagrid grunted.

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him," he said.

"A what?" said Harry, interested.

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "It's what we call non-magic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

Harry smiled, amused.

"It's not considered derogatory, is it sir? Because if it isn't I'd quite like to use it from now on."

"Not to my knowledge, it ain't."

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me!" said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl - A real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl as well as a long quill and a roll of parchment. With his tongue perched between his teeth, he scribbled a note that read:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I've given Harry his letter.

Harry seems a bit different from what I thought, bit mad if you ask me. But you know what they say, mad people are always best - or right- or somethin' like that.

Hagrid.

"As Vernon said," Petunia squawked, "He's not going!"

"Shut up, you filthy little muggle." Hary tested, rolling the word 'muggle' slightly, enjoying the sound of the word.

Petunia stumbled back against the wall.

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry.

"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit - I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."

It had been a mere week since the giant's arrival, and number four, Privet drive was in chaos. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were fuming as the giant's arrival was not to be expected and the couple were adamant they had taken precautions on making sure that this stayed that way. It was common knowledge that if one had enough determination to achieve something, it could be done; or it was at least in the Dursley household. But by some great miracle, they had been able to get to the boy anyway.

Joffrey shared the Dursley's anger too, which in his case was not given unfairly. Something seemed to be taunting him, some beast from above! Here he was, thinking that some great messenger had come to rescue him, and cried into filthy arms. He had made a mockery of himself! There was not a day within to the passing week that you could see a member of the Dursley household wearing a smile, apart from Dudley of course, who was in perfect spirits, he was to go to Smelting's soon and was beyond excited.

"Alright then," Petunia said one morning "I guess that beast will come to take you soon."

"I guess he will," Joffrey replied.

And in perfect timing, the man banged on the door.

"Good luck, Harry." Dudley smiled encouragingly.

Joffrey did not respond.

As Joffrey slowly trailed after the 'Hagrid' man, he couldn't help but notice a large white bird perched on his shoulder.

"Man- Hagrid." Joffrey corrected himself "There appears to be an owl on your shoulder."

"Pay him." Hagrid barked, reasonably.

"Ah yes, but how do I do that?"

"He wants paying' fer delivering' the paper. Look in the pockets." Hagrid told him. Joffrey reached into the man's pockets and made a confused face. The coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets - bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags… finally, Joffrey pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

"Knuts?" Joffrey giggled childishly.

"The little bronze ones."

Off to Neverland, we go…

"Harry," Hagrid suddenly looked depressed "There's something I ought to tell ya'"

Hagrid started to tremble a little.

"In our world, they may look at you differently" Hagrid stopped "It's because you-you's the chosen one." Joffrey started madly giggling, thinking the man was joking. Hagrid looked down at him, concerned.

"I ain't lying, boy, you're the chosen one"

"Elaborate, strange man." Joffrey ordered.

"Well, 'bout twenty years ago, this evil wizard started lookin' fer followers. Got some, too! Some were afraid of him and others just wanted a bit o' his power 'cause he was gettin' himself power aiight. Those were dark days, harry. No one knew who ter trust and terrible things happened… This evil wizard was takin' over not only the 'Wizarding World' but the muggle realm as well! O'course, some stood up to him an' he simply killed 'em. Horribly, too. One o' the only safe places left in the world was Hogwarts. I reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was (or should I say is) afraid of."

"Oh my… this Dumbledore man sounds epic!" exclaimed Joffrey.

"This wizard didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway. Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before... probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side."

Hagrid began to sweat.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em... maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you were all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an' - an' -"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose - which sounded like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's just that sad - knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find - anyway..."

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then - an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing - he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But it backfired! So you're the chosen one. People think ya' killed him, but he's still out there if you ask me.. " Hagrid finished, looking around the streets nervously.

This time Joffrey giggled so madly he could frighten grown men. He was to be a hero, of course, he was. The heavens were not mocking him, they were simply testing his courage. That must be his purpose, to remove this 'you-know-who'. Perhaps once he had completed the quest, he would be returned to his true home- his kingdom. He was here to save this sad, pathetic and strange little world he had found himself in. Joffrey smiled sheepishly, and a small wave of relief washed over his senses.

"Oh sounds terrible..." Joffrey began, in a much better mood. "By the way, how did you manage to get up to the lighthouse? It was surrounded by water and there was no boat in sight!"

"I flew."

Joffrey's eyes lit up.

"On a dragon?"

Hagrid laughed. "Oh, I wish… No, just a broom I'm afraid." The man replied, reasonably.

Patience was key in times like this, or, better put; a necessity. As the giant blabbered away, Joffrey lost his dignity for a short while and faked a passionate interest - which seemed to please the giant immensely - taming the beast for the moment. Alas, Joffrey could not find it within himself to believe the scruffy man's tales of magic and battle, they resembled much of the tales that his mother would tell him when he was young. Pity that.

After being informed of the matter of 'goblins' and 'banks', Joffrey was subjected to another particularly harrowing 'car ride', although this car was a little longer, with far more seats and grimey-looking people. After the nasty event, Hagrid and Joffrey made their way up the streets of busing London, (which did not confuse Joffrey as much as one may believe it would, he seemed to have developed an immunity towards such a thing these past days). They approached a dirty, ordinary little pub, which would usually be ignored by the general public unless it was pointed out.

"In here," said Hagrid, pointing his chubby finger towards the pub's door.

"Here- really?" Joffrey questioned.

"Yup, this is it, the Leaky Cauldron, famous it is!"

Now, it's important to mention Joffrey considered himself a very generous lad; he was always open to new approaches to things (the word 'considered' is key to this sentence). But this- now this was just a lie.

"This place? Why, it looks like a brothel!" Joffrey said, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"This place, ya' gotta' see inside to get it." the man replied, though he seemed unsure of his own words.

As they stepped inside, Joffrey took pride in his eye for untruths. This was no place to be marvelled at as it seemed like a normal inn. The pub was almost completely barren apart from a few women sitting is the corner drinking generous sized glasses of deep red wine. There was also a very short, brown-haired man with a bagpipe in deep conversation with a rather regal-looking long-bearded old man, who also smoked a long pipe. Near the stools sat a man who looked suspiciously like a toothless walnut, in deep thought. Hagrid approached the bartender and suddenly forcefully clapped his hands onto Joffrey's shoulder.

"Lookee' 'ere, Hogwarts business"

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Joffrey, "Is this - can this be -?"

Did this man know who he was? Joffrey suddenly felt dread creep up his spine.

The Leaky Cauldron had gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter... what an honour!"

Huh...?

In a split second, Joffrey put on his kingly facade that he had used to frighten his new 'schoolmates' and the people of king's landing.

"Ah, the honour is mine, sir." Joffrey smiled charmingly, he didn't miss the feeling that a person's gaze from behind him had become very intense. His senses had grown much in the last week.

"A saviour - and a polite one at that!"

The man scurried over from behind the counter, tears in his eyes and head downcast, in a similar fashion to the begging peasants of King's Landing.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."

Everyone in the room was looking at him in awe. Joffrey could almost physically feel his ego rising. He puffed his chest out a little.

After a number of people had eagerly introduced themselves, Joffrey noticed that same feeling of being watched intently- but it was a horrid feeling, not like the interest the other people in the bar offered him. Joffrey turned to meet the eyes of a pale young man who was slowly creeping towards him. He immediately hated the poor, pathetic man.

"Professor Quirrell!" beamed Hagrid. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

Joffrey turned his head from Hagrid to Quirrell and instantly recognised the source of his dislike. It was the eyes- they had this sort of snake-like look to them. They looked cunning. They were quite similar to Littlefinger's eyes- the man who always tried to ruin things for him and tell him what to do. Everyone seemed to like the 'Baelish' character, but Jofffrey despised him, mind you, he despised lots of people. Mother had called him a scheming snake- which Joffrey profusely agreed with. He decided he did not like this man one bit. All the more reason to stand guard.

"P-P-Potter," stammered Quirrell, purposely avoiding Joffrey's outstretched hand, "C-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you."

Quirrell face briefly made a cunning, little grin.

Joffrey returned his smile, making it last a while longer, and slightly more sarcastic. He tilted his head slightly. Quirrell's face turned blank for a few seconds before returning to it's nervous default.

'Who are you? Why are you so creepy? What do you teach? HOW DARE YOU LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT! Is that stutter real? How'd you get that stutter? Please don't tell me you own any brothels…' Joffrey wanted to say all at once, but steadily reminded himself he was not king for the time being and would have to go about this a bit more wisely…

"What is it that you teach?" Joffrey quickly added: "Sir."

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts, er, must get going, gotta get that new book about vampires," muttered Professor Quirrell before quickly dashing out of the pub.

"Thought he'd been happier to see you, he's very good at them awkward jokes, surprised he didn't make one..." Hagrid observed, confused.

"Nerves?" Joffrey offered.

"Must be."

Hagrid began to madly count the bricks on the wall.

"Three up... two across," he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he touched quivered and in the middle, a small hole appeared. It grew wider and wider. A few seconds later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid that led to a cobbled street which twisted and turned out of sight.

Now this, this was impressive.

The street before them was a sight to behold. There were bright flashing colours of red, purple and white- all richly dyed cloths of velvet that people in the street wore. Each little shop that spiralled up the cobble path had its own quirks. One with a white and gold sign, signifying jewellery, and another a deep, rich red for fine silks. Joffrey looked around in awe. He had never seen a street so dirty, yet so clean. While the street was coated in cobwebs and bird faeces, not a single beggar could be seen whatsoever. Hagrid lead Joffrey to a large aristocratic building, that was located at the end of the road. As they approached it's steps, Joffrey looked up at an ominous looking-sign, painted dramatically in red blood. It read:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

Joffrey thought it was absolutely charming.

"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it." said Hagrid.

A pair of ugly goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more of the ugly little things were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales and examining precious stones through eyeglasses. The 'thing's' giggled amongst each other, and glared up at Hagrid and Joffrey for interrupting their nice chat. Joffrey hated the arrogant little things. Both him and Hagrid made their way up to the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe."...

After the goblin carefully inspected the key provided to him by Hagrid, he led them through another two grand doors and forced them into a smaller more dangerous looking car - which had no seat belts or railings to prevent Joffrey from falling out of it. After another nasty car ride that Joffrey had grown to despise so much, they were lead to a suspicious set of doors.

The goblin opened the doors and Joffrey was greeted to a room filled with gold and silver.

He turned to Hagrid and gave him a look that said quite plainly:

Is that it?

"Aren't you pleased, kid?" Hagrid asked, unsure as to why a small child would not be thrilled when treated with stacks of gold.

"Money is only worth something when it has been spent and you have something in your possession." Joffrey replied smugly, proud of himself.

"Woah, 'arry," Hagrid looked impressed "That's some wise sh*t, tha' is."

Joffrey nodded his head in agreement.

When they had left the bank, and were back on the stone streets of Diagon alley with Joff's pockets filled with gold, Joffrey noticed a white piece of parchment slowly falling out of Hagrid's pocket. "Excuse me Hagrid, I couldn't help but notice a note falling out of your pocket."

Hagrid slowly patted his sides down and pulled out the piece of paper.

His face turned blank for a few seconds, before violently turning red in rage.

"OH F*CKIN' 'ELL" Hagrid roared "I'VE FORGOTTEN VAULT THREE HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN!"

Hagrid squeezed the flap of skin between his brow with his thumb and finger and began counting to ten.

"Alright Harry," Hagrid finally said, at the number eight. "I seemed to of found 'meself in a bit of a conundrum 'ere, what I want you to do is find a shop called 'Madam Malkin's' and ask to get fitted, once 'ye finish, wait for me outside. Ya' got that 'arry?

Joffrey nodded his head and Hagrid stormed off back to Gringotts.

Making Friends (Forming alliances)

Joffrey inspected the street in search for the place, he looked around until his eyes raked over a deep blue sign, Ah!, 'Madam Malkin's' it read. He opened its oak door and a bell rang. A squat, smiling woman rushed over and asked:

"Hogwarts, dear? Got the lot here - another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

Joffrey was lead to the back of the shop and placed on a large footstool, next to a blond ferret-like boy.

"Hello," said the child "Hogwarts, too?"

"Unfortunately." Joffrey replied dryly.

The boy giggled and gave him an understanding smile.

"Don't worry. It's not as bad as you might think. I've heard they give out treacle tarts on Wednesdays. Father wanted to send me to Durmstrang, but mother told him it was too far away. I suppose your parents wanted to send you somewhere else as well?"

"My parents are dead." Joffrey said bluntly, making sure to lower his head a little.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Anyway," the boy smiled enthusiastically and continued. "My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands, when they come to fetch me, I think I'll drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don't see why the first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Joffrey immediately liked the boy.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No, don't really see the point." said Joffrey, not understanding why anyone would want a broom for entertainment purposes.

"I see," the boy looked contemplative for a moment and then asked: "Play Quidditch at all?"

"Yes." Joffrey lied, for not apparent reason - apart from the fear of being bested at something.

"Oh, wonderful! What position do you play?"

Oh no.

"Sweeping? I mean, er, beater!" Joffrey guessed, it sounded like something you would do with brooms.

"Oh good, maybe you could play with me in Hogwarts, I'll be going for seeker. Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet? I'm going to be a Slytherin, my whole family has been for centuries."

Joffrey took a moment to think, he guessed correctly the first time, who's to say he couldn't do it again? He remembered the four symbols and picked his favourite - the lion - yes - it reminded him of his own house.

"The, the- l-lion!" Joffrey stuttered nervously.

"Oh! Gryffindor, really? I thought maybe Ravenclaw for you. I suppose Gryffindors are respectable enough, bit stupid though." He smiled at Joffrey and then looked back towards the wall, his mouth suddenly curling in disgust.

"Imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Oh yes," Joffrey responded, having no clue what the boy was talking about, but already holding a strong dislike for Hufflepuffs by the child's words alone. "I don't think I could bear the shame."

The child smiled and nodded his head approvingly.

Joffrey decided he rather liked this boy. The child reminded him suspiciously of himself. Not quite as smart, of course, but enough like him for Joffrey to consider allowing the boy to follow him. First, he needed to win the child's approval and respect, then he could dub the eleven-year-old his first knight of the new realm.

Judging by the slight hint of arrogance in the boy's voice and the child's own hints of his wealth, Joffrey could only make one conclusion as to the boy's heritage: an aristocrat, a wealthy one at that. Joffrey quickly formed a plan in his mind. He took a leap of blind faith and asked:

"Are you by any chance one the great most noble houses of - "

The ferret did not finish the sentence as Joffrey had hoped.

"Mal-" Joffrey tested slowly

"Malfoy!" The boy looked both impressed and flattered "Yes I am, what gave it away?"

"The hair."

"Ah yes," Malfoy chuckled and patted his head. "We are known for our elegant and well-groomed locks."

Joffrey let out a sigh of relief.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was foolishly smiling at Joffrey, and even though the man was a bumbling idiot, he couldn't help but smile back.

"Oh, him? Ah yes, that's Hagrid. I believe he's some sort of servant" Joffrey informed the child, pleased he knew something the other boy didn't.

The child's eyes lit up with recognition.

"I've heard of him!" I've been told he's a sort of savage," Malfoy told him, and Joffrey could only nod. "Lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

Joffrey turned back to Hagrid, trying to picture the smiling man chugging down a bottle of bourbon. Yes, the image did suit him, strangely enough.

"Really?"

"Really." Malfoy confirmed.

After a long, awkward pause Malfoy took it upon himself to resume the conversation. "My favourite teams the 'Falmouth Falcons', Father told me their name was stupid but I can't say I agree. Oh, how rude of me! I forgot to ask what your favourite team is!"

"The chasers!" Joffrey replied, far too quickly. That was what people did with balls right? Chase them.

Joffrey turned to the other boy, who was looking up at the ceiling, contemplating. "The chasers, the chasers, the chasers…" Malfoy trailed off.

"You know, I don't think I've ever actually heard of the chasers, where are they based?" asked Malfoy, turning back to Joffrey questioningly.

"Castamere." Joffrey lied with certainty. Mother had always told him if you were to come up with a plan, you must stick to it - and if your plan started to falter, continue it with great certainty so that your opponent may eventually submit and agree. Never give up, just keep on digging until your determination pulls through.

"Castamier?" Malfoy asked in disbelief.

"No, Castamere." Joffrey corrected.

"Castamere, funny name for a place," Malfoy mused "I must confess, I've never heard of this 'Castamere' before, where is it exactly? Mexico?"

"Probably somewhere in Wales," the squat lady from earlier pitched in, holding a pair of scissors between her teeth. "Always have the funniest town names in Wales..."

"Ever been to Castamere?" Malfoy suddenly asked Joffrey.

"Yes." Joffrey lied.

"Was it nice there?"

"Yes, just splendid - truly charming." Joffrey said quickly, hoping the other boy would not begin to see through his lies.

"Hm, Perhaps I should like to go…" the ferret-boy muttered under his breath.

"By the way, why is that oaf-of-a-man with you anyway?" the little boy asked. Before Joffrey could respond, Malfoy put his hand in front of Joff's face, in order to silence him.

"Don't tell me, Don't tell me, it's because your parents are dead!" Malfoy announced triumphantly. "I'm right, am I not? Tell me I'm right!" Joffrey nodded weakly and the ferret-boy beamed. Pleased that he was, indeed, correct.

"But they were our kind - our sort - weren't they? Your parents, I mean."

"Yes, of course." Joffrey responded, whatever the other 'sort' were, Joffrey wasn't sure if he liked the sound of them. "I don't think they should let the other sort in, do you?"

The boy nodded profusely.

"Why, I couldn't agree more! They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. It would be cruel to force them to attend, if you ask me. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the pure wizarding families." Yes, this boy could certainly help him on his quest to return home, but first, he needed to befriend the child. How was one supposed to go about forming alliances?

"Perhaps we shall meet again at Hogwarts, and maybe play on the same quidiatch- "

"Quidditch."

"Yes, 'quidditch' team."

"I would like that." Malfoy smiled. "Oh, and what's the name of your house- "

"Right then," Madam Malkin stood up, interrupting Malfoy "All done, boy. Off ya' trot."

Joffrey was ushered out of the store and pushed onto the wet hard concrete of Diagon Alley. He craned his neck - that was now throbbing painfully - up to take a better look at the perpetrator of the push's face. Madam Malkin looked down at Joffrey and gave him an angry sneer before shrewdly huffing "and a good day to you!".

Joffrey looked around frantically, trying to see if anyone else had witnessed the affair. This was a violation of his rights! To his dismay, nobody seemed to notice at all. Joffrey screamed in pure rage, and once again, nobody made any hint of a reaction - not even a slight quirk of the eyebrow - or a little gesture of the head to try and find the source of the noise.

Joffrey screamed again, this time a little louder, and out of curiosity rather than madness. But alas, he received no reaction whatsoever. People just kept on walking.

How very strange.

As Joffrey slowly got up, he noticed how the world around him seemed ever so slightly superficial. Every step taken - every child's scream - every giggle or smile - was oddly formulaic. Not in the sense that people looked robotic, no, not at all. It was more as though they were feigning a sort of naturality.

Much to Joffrey dismay, he had often fallen victim to the privy of groaning philosophers thoughts. How he had hated being forced to listen to their ramblings simply because of his status as a prince, it was one of the first things he vowed to be rid of after he was married. (Though he had never gotten round to it.) But if there was one thing Joffrey could take away from his endless hours of being subjected to tales of celestial conspiracies, it was the idea that man had choice. In fact, Joffrey didn't need to listen to rambling old philosophers to know what choice was. It was what made most of him after all, what gave him the drive to do everything and anything he damn well pleased, and it seemed to be something that these people lacked.

Every single move they made seemed structured. It was almost as though they were puppets being controlled by a puppeteer. Everything was just ever so slightly off. Like this was one big board of chess, and the people were the pawns. Like this was all not rea-

"'Ello 'Arry, how are ya?" a voice interrupted Joffrey's existential meltdown, stopping him mid-rant. Joffrey looked around to see Hagrid's smiling face, holding out a scoop of mud on a pyramid of brick.

"Bought ya' an ice cream." the man informed him and Joffrey reluctantly took the ball of mud, holding it as though it were infected.

Hagrid looked at him expectedly.

Joffrey smiled at the man nervously. Hagrid kept staring. Goodness, what did he want? Was it maybe something to do with the ball of crap he had been presented with?

Joffrey looked up at the man, and then back down to the ice cream, then back to Hagrid, whose smile had grown a little wider.

So it was something to do with the mysterious purple blob! Joffrey slowly moved his finger up towards it and poked. He jerked his hand back in surprise. It was cold! Was this some sort of sick prank? Joffrey looked back up to Hagrid, whose brows were furrowed.

"Is there somethin' wrong with yer' ice cream 'arry?"

"No-no not at all sir!" Joffrey said, he had pledged to himself that he wouldn't let anyone find out he was not of this realm unless they were assisting him with returning to his home. He didn't want to wind up dead. So naturally, he couldn't let anyone be suspicious of him.

Joffrey slowly moved his head down to the thing and stuck out his tongue, he looked at Hagrid for confirmation and the man's smile became even broader as he leaned forward in anticipation. Joffrey licked the mysterious purple substance. It was sweet? He licked again, and then again. It wasn't half bad actually.

"Ya like yer ice cream 'arry?" asked Hagrid, cheerily.

"It's okay." Joffrey replied eloquently, keeping his dignity intact.

After a few hours of having been forcefully pulled in and out of shops, buying all the necessary equipment for his time at 'Hogwarts', the quest had almost been completed. Hagrid and Joffrey took a short break and the giant informed him he would be receiving a pet as his 'birthday present'.

"Just yer wand left - an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present." Hagrid had said "Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at - an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze." Joffrey nodded in agreement. "I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin!'"

Joffrey eyes lit up with excitement! A pet! Perhaps he could get a real ugly one and bully it. Joffrey hadn't had a pet since he was six, but 'Gary' had been removed from him after a rather unfortunate accident with a dagger.

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Joffrey now carried a large cage that held a mad looking snowy owl, who had funny eyes, feathers that stuck out crazily from the back of it head and a crooked beak. It was squawking madly at nearby pedestrians.

Joffrey liked his new owl very much, he was going to take very good care of him. Joffrey cackled madly, which captured the attention of Hagrid who looked at him, disturbed.

"I ain't heard a laugh like that since…" Hagrid muttered.

"Pardon?" Joffrey asked, looking up at the man.

"Nothin', nothin'. I was just wondering what ye' were going to name the mad little fella."

"I suppose I haven't thought about it." said Joffrey, he honestly hadn't.

"Yeh'd have to name 'im something that matched his personality," Hagrid informed Joffrey. "Like - er - maybe-"

"Aegon." Joffrey decided. "I'm going to name him Aegon."

"Aegon?" Hagrid quirked an eyebrow and looked deep in thought. "Well that's not really where I was goin' with that, I was thinking something along the lines of 'Tom'..."

"Tom?" Joffrey questioned, looking at Hagrid like he was stupid.

"Oh, don' give me that look boy. Some of the maddest people I know are called Tom. Yer know the man from Leaky Cauldron 'Arry?" Joff nodded. "He's a Tom. Back In the seventies, he ripped a man limb from limb because he tried to nick a pint, he did."

Joffrey scowled, he thought 'Aegon' rather suited the thing.

A trip to a madman.

After a few tiresome minutes of squabbling as to whose Owl name was better, Joffrey and Hagrid made a mutual agreement - no, an arrangement of sorts. They were going to decide its name after Olivanders, and if they couldn't agree, they would simply have to battle it out and kill each other- or bribe one another. It really didn't matter which one, as long as Joffrey was happy.

Joffrey entered the ugly little shop and Hagrid decided he would wait outside in order to calm down.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Joffrey jumped in fright.

"What in the seven hells- "

"Calm yourself, boy," whispered the ghost. "I am but a simple salesmen, no need to worry your royal self."

Joffrey looked around the room frantically, trying to spot the source of the noise. A human figure emerged from the darkness. An old man.

"Hello sir, I've been sent to retrieve, er, b-buy a wand from your shop." Joffrey whimpered, his knees shaking in fright.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon, Joffrey Baratheon."

Joffrey's entire body went numb. He looked up at the man's ghastly and ever so slightly ethereal-looking silver eyes that were piercing their way into his very soul. "H-how d-do you kn-know?" said Joffrey.

Olivander chuckled and replied "Hush, hush, boy, there is nothing to fear. I am but a simple wand-maker. I shan't tell anyone of your, er, situation, now, what hand do you write with, boy?"

"R-right!" Joffrey faltered. "But I can sometimes use my left. Sir, I'd really like to know how it is that you are aware of my true name."

"Right then, Mr. Lannister- "

"Baratheon, actually." Joffrey corrected.

"Right then, Mr. Lannister," Ollivander repeated, making Joffrey twitch a little in annoyance. "Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave." Joffrey took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once. Feeling annoyed that the man would not tell Joffrey of how he knew of his origins, Joffrey tried again "I think sir, it's about time you tell me how you know-"

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try -"

Joffrey tried - but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander. That. Was. It. Joffrey needed to know what was going on at once. "MAN, IF YOU DON'T TELL ME, I SHALL DESTROY-"

"No, no -here," Olivander cut him off, yet again. "Ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Joffrey tried. And tried. Feeling stupider with every swish and flick of the wrist, and feeling more and more annoyed at the way Olivander just seemed to get happier every time the wands made no reaction to him. An idea struck Joffrey, what if maybe he couldn't actually do magic. He was a king, not a wizard. Perhaps the wand's lack of response was due to him being of another realm. "Sir," Joffrey asked after a few moments of inner contemplation "do you think that the reason I'm not being responded to is because I'm not from this world and have no magic?"

"Don't be silly boy, I'd know if you were a muggle-" ah, yes. Joffrey's new favourite word. "right when you entered this shop."

"But how?"

Olivander let out another one of his creepy chuckles. "Hush boy, don't question the mad, old wandmaker."

Joffrey watched as the strange old man made his way over to the shelves of wands and began to madly mutter to himself.

"Try this, Mr. Lannister." He said mysteriously, handing Joffrey an ugly stick.

Joffrey sighed and repeated what he had done for hours, he glared, swished and flicked. Nothing. And then suddenly a warmth spread over him and wind swished dramatically around him. He'd found the one. After being dramatically informed that his new stick was somehow related to Joffrey's enemy, 'Lord Shouldercourt' - and something about feathers - he left the store, feeling both disturbed and annoyed. He'd have to keep an eye on that crazed wand-maker to ensure there were no unnecessary leaks of classified information. What disturbed Joffrey was not so much how the man knew of his true name and origins, but more of how that may mean others may also know. And if other's knew, there they may be as crazy as that mad old baboon.

"Our king." The children chanted, in a devotion that would make grown men shiver.

Looking around the room, he smiled. Everything had turned out perfectly. Indeed, Joffrey hadn't even tried to win the loyalty of these children, they just seemed to swarm to him and offer their undying love without anything in return. 'They new power when they saw it.' Joffrey had thought arrogantly, time and time again.

"Rise, you may, Sir. Cristopher." Joffrey spoke, trying to do his best impression of a god-like figure. The boy looked up at Joffrey and informed him of the week's important news. Apparently, there had been some sort of rebellion taking place across the recess grounds, led by a certain 'Keith'. Unluckily for Keith, Joffrey did not take kindly to threats of rebellion.

"Tell Mrs. Mary I want Keith's playground rights revoked. We need to send a message to the West, Sir. Cristopher, that we shall not tolerate treachery against the king. The true king of the South. If Keith wants to take away or peace he shall have to get past me." Joffrey said finally, chest puffed out in confidence and all.

"Your grace," Cristopher shook his head in denial. "How are we to be sure that Mrs. Mary shall even take notice of our concerns, that she would even bother to take action."

Joffrey chuckled and looked down at his new second-in-command. "Nae, she shan't deny us our rights. I am the king of the south. Now, come walk with me, Sir. Cristopher. Get up."

Joffrey stuck out his hand and offered a kind, reassuring smile.

"Platform nine and three quarters, platform nine and three quarters…" he muttered under his breath, glaring down at the golden ticket. This place was disgusting, it stunk and was filled with fat greasy people complimented with horrid long cars. Against the hustle and bustle of King's Cross station, Joffrey could only take solace in his own internal bickerings.

Glaring down the ticket, he felt a quick and painful pressure to his side. A realization hit Joffrey. Someone had pushed into him! How dare they! As Joffrey was about to get ready to kick someone in the crotch, he stopped. What strange eyes. They were the darkest brown he'd ever seen, almost black. He stared, utterly entranced by the soulless, almost golden sheen to the orbs. There was something odd about them, it was almost as though they weren't entirely human. As Joffrey's stare began to verge on inappropriate, Aegon-Thompson took it upon himself to sqwake accusingly up at his new owner, breaking Joff out of his trance for the moment. The mad king's eyes narrowed down at the owl. Joff realised what he had just done and his cheeks began to go a deep shade of pink in embarrassment. Ready to frantically apologise, he looked up. The eyes had gone, and all that could be seen was the glass ceiling of King's Cross station.

Weird. Very weird.

"- packed with Muggles, of course -"

Joffrey almost jumped back in surprise. His new favourite word! He looked around frantically, trying to find the source of the noise. He spun around to find a plump, red-headed woman sporting an awfully knit, shabby green handbag and a sour face, accessorised by four, freckled children. Each pushing trunks much like Joffrey's - perhaps they would know where to go!

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the sour-faced ginger woman

"Nine and three-quarters" whined a small, miserable girl, who looked annoyingly like Sansa Stark, "Mum, can't I go…"

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first"

An extremely arrogant looking ginger marched up to stand in front of his mother and dramatically sighed. Then he just, er, ran into a wall. Ran through a wall, I mean. He just seemed to - uh - vanish. Joffrey blinked. And blinked. And blinked a few more times just to be sure.

"Excuse me, my lady," Joffrey started, extremely disturbed. The Plump woman turned to him. "Did your son just run through a wall?"

"Yes." The woman replied and looked at him demeaningly, like he had just asked why meat crisped up after it was cooked - or why when the sun sets, the moon rises.

"But how?"

The woman stopped looked at him curiously for a second. "Actually I'm not really sure-" a strange look dawned on her features and then she continued, "Its best not to question it, dear-"

"But why? Will someone hurt me if I do?"

"No one- nothing. Fred, you next," she said.

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone - but how had he done it? Joff shivered.

Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier he was almost there - and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.

"First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too." said the ginger woman, pointing to a particularly unfortunate looking boy with unusually large hands, and then turning back to him.

"Now, all you have to do is run through the wall." she smiled reassuringly.

He pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid. Because it was a wall. A solid wall. A wall. Joffrey breathed in and out slowly and reminded himself that if one of this lot could do it - he could do it to. Feeling confident in mind and shaking nervously in body - Joffrey ran. The barrier was coming nearer and nearer - he wouldn't be able to stop - the cart was out of control - he was a foot away - he closed his eyes ready for the crash.

BANG.

Pain. Joffrey's head was hammering and the world around him seemed to fade into one. The colours around him merged and his vision began to go blurry. Nothing hurt anymore. He could faintly see the horrible ginger hair of one of the weasels, looming over him. They were calling for him? Begging? He didn't really care. Why did this feel so horribly familiar? Ah - yes that's right, it had happened before. He shut his eyes and embraced the end. Black.

His eyes fluttered open. He was alive! But there was something strange- the air felt stiffer. Everything seemed quieter. The world around him felt completely still.

Letting out a small breath, Joffrey placed a hand firmly on the ground and picked himself up. He was still in King's Cross station. He looked around. Where were all the people? There was nobody there. Nobody at all. It was so very quiet.

How odd.

Joffrey looked around. King's Cross didn't seem the same without the people. It didn't feel alive. It felt very dead. Joffrey shivered. He spun around.

Standing before him, on the concrete floor of King's Cross station, in full-body, was Ned Stark.

He felt his heart pound rapidly as he tried to process what was going on. He tried to force words to come out of his mouth, but they simply would not come. So, he just stood there, frozen in horror. Looking the most pathetic he had probably looked in his entire life.

Ned Stark was muttering something very quickly, but Joffrey couldn't hear what he was saying. The mad king slowly edged forward, but alas, he could not hear a thing.

"Joffrey," said Ned Stark, and he could finally hear it, "It's not your time."

His eyes widened in horror and a horrible feeling of pure dread washed over Joffrey.

And then everything froze.

Gasping, Joffrey felt the wonderful feeling of cold air fill his lungs. He slowly opened his eyes to be met with the ugly freckled face of the plump woman.

"All right there, dear?" Joffrey suddenly realised he was in a very indecent position, and slowly got up.

"How long was I out?"

"Oh, only a few seconds." That was odd. Joffrey could have sworn it was at least a good five minutes. But what had just happened? Why were there no people? And most importantly, why was Ned Stark there? How could he be there, how dare he! This was Joffrey's realm - his new playground. Joffrey shook his head. He'd think about it later. Something bizarre was happening every minute now, and it would not do well to dwell or look into past things too much. All he could do was go along with it until he actually had time to sit down and sort things out

"B-but what happened?"

"Why, I think you were rejected by the wall. Actually rejected. Never in all my years, in fact, in the history of the entire wizarding world, has that ever happened" the woman's face scrunched up in confusion, which promptly turned to outrage.

"You're not a-a muggle are you?" she asked, scandalised.

"No, I don't think so."

"Well," she huffed "there's only one way to find out. Pick up your cart and try again."

Not liking the tone she was using, Joffrey scowled and reluctantly picked up the cart and Aegon-Thompson's cage. He was hooting angrily at the woman, perfectly summing up Joffrey's own mood. He walked back a few paces so he could do a proper run-up. The Ginger woman glared. He'd show her.

Let's try this again;

He started to walk toward it. People jostled him on their way to platforms nine and ten. Joffrey walked more quickly. He was going to smash right into that barrier and then he'd be in trouble - leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a heavy run - the barrier was coming nearer and nearer - he wouldn't be able to stop - the cart was out of control

- he was a foot away - he closed his eyes ready for the crash -

It didn't come... he kept on running... he opened his eyes. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven O'clock. Joffrey looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. He had done it.

Joffrey shook his head in disbelief and sighed. He had just walked through a wall. A wall. Things were really going mad. Looking at the long car, Joffrey frowned. It was producing - smoke? The other cars didn't do that. He followed a group of loud teenagers up a few steps and into the long car and was pleasantly surprised. The interior was actually rather nice. There seemed to be different carriages divided along the walls. Were they carriages? They looked like them. Nice seats too, comfy-looking.

Tripping stupidly on a tuft of loose carpet, Joffrey mentally berated himself. He was going to have to act like the king he was! Clatter, Thud. Joffrey looked down. All his books. All his books had fallen off the cart. Joffrey was about to scream out in rage, but the window did it for him. Smash. Joffrey looked to the side, the window had shattered. Did somebody chuck something at it? Were they aiming for him?

"Want a hand?" Joffrey turned around. It was one of the red-haired twins he'd followed through the barrier.

"No," snapped Joffrey "I don't want your hand, I am in steady supply of hands myself." Kind of them to ask though, perhaps if Joffrey were to ever lose a hand he might go to them. The twin smiled.

"Oi, Fred! C'mere, I've found a kid I like."

"Don't put it like that, you creep." Joffrey heard from the other side of the long car.

With the twins' help, Joffrey's books had all been neatly placed back onto his cart.

"Thanks, if you are ever are in need of something, you may come to me," said Joffrey, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Joffrey's forehead.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you?"

"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Joffrey. Joffrey's heart rate began to quicken as he realised what they were implying. They knew who he was! But that was impossible, right - right?

"W-What?" said Joffrey, twitching nervously, ready to make a run for it.

"Harry Potter," chorused the twins.

"Oh, him - that guy" said Joffrey, almost sighing in relief. "I mean, yes- yes I am. I am definitely Harry Potter. I am undeniably Harry Potter. I am the most harry-est Potter you shall ever lay your eyes on. I am Harry, Harry is I."

One of the twins giggled slightly and the other one just laughed nervously. The holier one stepped forward, ready to take the lead.

"Ah-ha, well that's cool. I guess there's no doubt you really are Harry Potter then." joked the twin, trying to ease the tension. Joffrey did not laugh. He just stood there with a blank expression, staring.

"Well, we should really go." said the other twin "Goodbye, Mr. Savior!"

"Fred? George? Are you there?" a voice called from the open door of the long car.

"Coming, Mom."

With a last look at Joffrey, the twins hopped off.

Joffrey looked back through the long corridor. He walked, surveying it's interior, his hand running against the wall. Lights flickered ominously. The air became thicker. His breath caught in his thought. Something wasn't right. There were voices coming from the walls, echoing. They were pleading - begging for him to stop. Each step he took made his stomach twist with unease. His heartbeat was pounding rapidly. Power was near.

And then he came to a halt. This compartment. There was something in this compartment. Everything else was telling him no - don't look, but his curiosity was begging for a quick peek. So he gave into the temptation, knowing that if it was not fed, it would surely devour him.

So, he looked. There, leaning against the walls of the compartment, was a boy. A good-looking one too - it was a wonder his compartment was not filled with other children right now. He was leaning with perfect grace and poise, looking down at the ground, in deep thought. His arms crossed. There was a wisdom in his dark, strange eyes. A wisdom that one could only gain through age. There was something unsettling about this child.

Joffrey opened the door, and as soon as he had, those peculiar eyes flicked up to meet with his own.

"H-hello," Joffrey stuttered, why was he so nervous? "I'm Harry Potter, of h-house P-Potter." He was beginning to sound like Quirrell.

The boy stared at him, his gaze cold and assessing. Joffrey looked deep into those black eyes, was that… confusion? Why was the child confused? He was immediately ripped out of his thoughts when the boy took a step forward. The child just oozed power. He needed to befriend him.

"The name's Goldstein," The boy raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow and dramatically flicked a lock of his golden hair. A bolt of lightning hit the ground. "Anthony Goldstein."

Thunder roared from outside the train...

NEXT TIME...

"Sweet merlin!" one of the twins yelled from the Gryffindor table "Harry Potter's just killed the sorting hat!"

Author's notes~

I do not own Harry Potter, Game of thrones, or any of the characters mentioned in this story. All rights go to their respective owners.

Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed the third chapter, I am sorry for the late update. Life has been hectic. Please Follow, favourite and review The fourth chapter is currently being written, I plan to make updates more frequent from now on.

Hi, Don't know if anyone will read this but I just wanted to let you guys know the knew chapter will be out very soon!

*virtual hug*