Over ten years have passed since I regained consciousness in this world. Even setting aside the fact that it was a foreign country, the magic-filled world of "Harry Potter" was packed with culture shock. At first, everything was bewildering, but I was fortunate to be blessed with a good environment. Thoroughly spoiled by my parents, I somehow managed to reach the age of eleven. Or perhaps I should say I had finally reached eleven.
Yes, this year was my Hogwarts enrollment year.
Until I reached this year—the year I would first meet the protagonist, Harry Potter, who was my age—I had made every preparation I could think of.
What I focused on most seriously was gathering knowledge. Without understanding the fundamentals, nothing could begin. I had to study magic, investigate people who might become major characters, explore magical items that could be key to the story, and so on. There was a mountain of information I needed to acquire.
Honestly, I was nervous about whether my parents would find my behavior suspicious, but this turned out to be a completely unnecessary worry. My parents praised and celebrated my dedication to learning, grew frustrated that their young child couldn't have his own wand, and apparently stormed the Ministry of Magic declaring that rules preventing me from handling a wand were a loss to the wizarding world. They were complete monster parents.
In the end, they were apparently lectured by the higher-ups at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—Britain's only and finest magical school—and had to abandon their "plan to give their son a wand as a special exception."
Well, that was fine, but I learned that my father harbored considerable hostility toward this Headmaster Dumbledore. Dumbledore, whose name bore the word "white" (albus), was apparently the leader of the so-called "Light" side. Was it really safe to openly antagonize such a person like this? I grew even more worried about my father.
Despite my parents' indignation, I wasn't particularly bothered by not being able to use a wand. Rather, for the first few years of my childhood, I couldn't even be certain whether I could use magic at all. Though signs of magical power eventually appeared smoothly, that was just good luck. From the beginning, my approach had been to prioritize gathering knowledge to accurately understand the current situation and determine future policies, rather than practicing magic when I wasn't even sure if I had talent.
In this regard, my position as the Malfoy family heir was wonderfully useful. Thanks to my father being an incredibly powerful figure, I inevitably had dealings with what would be government officials and politicians in the non-magical world, and through those connections, I could freely access past trial records and imprisonment records. Thanks to this, I was able to gather much of the publicly available information about past wars before entering school.
In the process, I found many names of uncles, aunts, and my mother's cousins on the prisoner lists of Azkaban—the wizarding prison—and based on connections and movements of the time, I ran into the fact that my father had undoubtedly been a sympathizer of "You-Know-Who." It was a rather depressing reality, but I had faintly expected all of this from my name. Having ended up in this position, I could only accept it as such.
My birth was also useful in terms of magical knowledge, and this applied not only to my father's side but also to my mother's family line.
My mother's birth family was called the House of Black—a common yet ominous name—and as apparently the most prestigious family in magical Britain, they possessed wonderful magical books and artifacts. The Black family manor I occasionally visited was clearly full of things that looked legally questionable, but it was surprising that there had been house searches after "You-Know-Who" disappeared, even with all this still around.
Among the Black family males, only one was serving a life sentence in Azkaban, while the others had died. As the youngest male among blood relatives, I was greatly doted upon by my grandparents and great-grandparents. Thanks to this favoritism, I could openly dedicate myself to gathering knowledge. Though I feel bad for taking such advantage of their kindness, if a normal child were spoiled like this, they wouldn't grow up properly.
I also tried to investigate the opposing camp to "You-Know-Who"—the so-called Light side—but this didn't go very well. Of course, information about Dumbledore's circle was hard to come by, but more than anything, the crucial protagonist was the problem. There was far too much I didn't know about Harry Potter, who had apparently defeated the Dark Lord despite being a baby.
I didn't think baby Harry Potter himself would know important facts, and as long as he was living healthily somewhere, that was fine, but if the protagonist had died due to some butterfly effect I accidentally caused, that would be terrible. If that happened, the entire story he was supposed to overcome would come to nothing, and the world would collapse in an unwanted direction. I had to avoid that at all costs.
To confirm Harry Potter's safety, I tried to learn his whereabouts somehow, but no matter what I investigated, I gained nothing. His whereabouts seemed to be kept extremely secret. My father, who thought Harry Potter might possess power exceeding the Dark Lord, had apparently tried to win him over by fully displaying his desire for power, but like me, this ended in futility.
Eventually, my father gave up on directly drawing "the Boy Who Lived" to himself and repeatedly told me to befriend Harry Potter once I entered Hogwarts, until my ears were sick of hearing it. I wondered if he was the type who wouldn't hesitate to use his child as a tool in power struggles, but as a father, his advice seemed to come from genuine concern for his beloved son. It was complicated.
Contrary to my father's intentions, as someone who had to think about the story's future, I was undecided about whether to befriend the protagonist. From Harry Potter's perspective, my position was as the son of his parents' killers' ally. With the ominous naming of "Malfoy," I was clearly not in a position to be a friendly schoolmate character.
On the other hand, I'd be troubled if something irreversible happened by completely ignoring him, and if the story proceeded smoothly from here—assuming Harry Potter wasn't a story that ended badly—I wanted to avoid being on the side that would be destroyed and ending up in a troublesome position along with my family. If I moved too dramatically and changed what was probably a happy ending fate, things around me could become gruesome, but I didn't know if staying on the sidelines was the right answer either.
Even if I wanted to act, I didn't know the foundation to act upon. Even if I wanted to reach out, what I'd reach toward was completely unknown. In short, I had far too little information.
In the end, entering school and observing the situation for a while was probably best. I could only watch how things moved in places where I wasn't involved or where I was unavoidably involved, then consider my response from there. It felt like I was just postponing problems, but in this case, a flexible stance was the right answer. I had to believe that.
Even with mountains of things to consider, the day of enrollment was approaching moment by moment. Today I was shopping for school supplies with my parents. The wand, most important to wizards, had already been bought by my father, who wanted to give it to his son first thing, and I'd received it as a present the day my Hogwarts acceptance letter arrived. For other items, merchants usually came to the house, but apparently school-designated uniforms had to be selected from designated shops in Diagon Alley. I was grateful since I could browse the apothecary and bookstore, and it was a good opportunity for the family to go out together before I departed for Hogwarts, so the three of us decided to go shopping together.
However, Diagon Alley was crowded just before the new term. We decided to first handle the time-consuming essential errands separately, then shop together afterward. I parted from my parents in front of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, bustling with many wizards hurrying about, and stepped alone into the shop.
Contrary to the scene outside, the interior was nearly empty of customers and seemed rather vacant. A shop assistant who had appeared somewhat idle quickly guided me onto a platform upon seeing my face and began taking measurements.
With measuring tape flying around my body, I couldn't move around, and with no one to talk to, I found myself with nothing to do. Having nothing to occupy my hands, I absently gazed out the window at the crowded street scene when a boy pushed through the crowd, opened the door, and entered the shop. This boy with messy black hair was guided by an assistant just like me and stood on the neighboring fitting platform.
Judging by how unfamiliar he seemed with this alley itself, was he also a new Hogwarts student? The appearance of this nervous-looking child made me worry about his upbringing environment at first glance. He wore glasses with frames repaired with cellotape or something similar, his shirt and trousers were completely worn out and seemed sized for a fat adult. Whether he'd been to Gringotts or not, his hair looked like it had been exposed to a powerful fan, with slightly overgrown unruly bangs hanging over his eyes. Already slender, the clothing gave him the impression of a puppy carelessly draped with an old bath towel.
From his clothing style, he seemed to be Muggle-raised, but there was no one who appeared to be a guardian nearby. His anxious look around while alone was somehow concerning. If my parents discovered me being friendly with a boy who was (most rudely) poorly dressed—that is, not wizarding-like—it would likely cause trouble, but I hesitated to ignore him based on my previous life's values.
Perhaps due to two troublesome childhood friends, I might have become quite meddlesome, I thought with self-mockery, while gently calling out to avoid frightening him.
"Hello. Are you a new Hogwarts first-year?"
"Yeah. Um, are you too?"
The addressed boy nodded happily, though he seemed slightly startled. He didn't appear to be as timid as I'd thought. Perhaps my meddling hadn't been necessary after all. However, having started the conversation myself, I wouldn't be rude enough to cut it short. I continued speaking as amicably as possible.
"Yes. Is this your first time in Diagon Alley?"
In my words, he widened his eyes and tilted his head slightly.
"How did you know? Was something strange about me?"
"You didn't seem very familiar with it, and your clothes didn't seem like those of someone from the wizarding world."
The boy immediately looked embarrassed. He probably felt anxious about his ungainly clothing and being in an unfamiliar world.
"Do I really look strange? I only learned I was a wizard yesterday."
The conversation was taking a slightly troubling turn for the Malfoy family. While secretly confirming my parents weren't in the street, I asked him what I wanted to confirm with a nonchalant expression.
"Aren't your parents wizards?"
"No, they were both wizards. But they died when I was small, so I was raised by non-wizard relatives—um, Muggle relatives."
That was... from his clothing and those words, I could guess what kind of environment he'd lived in. Growing up in a Muggle household that had no hesitation about leaving a child in such a state, without anyone to rely on, must have been a harsh life. I'd asked an impertinent question. However, though it was improper, I felt somewhat relieved. Now I wouldn't be scolded by my father for speaking with someone of "impure blood."
Hiding my crude relief, I made an appropriately sad face suitable for saying "my condolences."
"I'm sorry for asking something painful."
"No, it's completely fine. More than that, I'm worried because I don't know anything about the wizarding world..."
The boy answered while fidgeting with the hem of his oversized shirt.
Honestly, I understood his feelings very well. When I first reincarnated, I remembered being unable to sleep from anxiety about various things related to the wizarding world.
Besides, he was Muggle-raised. I used to wonder about the educational disparity for children raised in the non-magical world and asked various questions to the house-elf who served as my nanny and my tutors. My parents didn't like my interest in "impure blood" matters, but when I claimed I thought "the fundamental educational disparity and educational course separation proposal for wizards educated in the non-magical world"—that is, pure-bloods and others should be taught in separate educational institutions—they were convinced. Simple-minded of them.
Recalling the knowledge I'd gathered then, I wove words to ease the boy's anxiety.
"Every year many children raised by Muggles like you enroll, and what you learned from the Hogwarts teacher who visited your home should be sufficient. At school, everyone starts learning the same content simultaneously, so I don't think you need to worry much."
However, the black-haired boy didn't seem reassured by these words.
"Teacher? Do school teachers normally come to explain things? ...A gamekeeper came to my place. And, um... he was in quite a hurry, so we didn't have much time to talk leisurely until here."
I couldn't help tilting my head at those words. After all, this was enrollment guidance for a seven-year boarding school. Even for a normal Muggle school, this would be a big deal, but something as bizarre as Hogwarts wouldn't be easily accepted by non-magical families. Wasn't it quite unusual that there was no explanation to convince families unfamiliar with magic?
Moreover, I'd never heard good rumors about Hogwarts' gamekeeper. Well, of course, I had to consider that my surroundings were heavily anti-Dumbledore, but from what I could tell through hearsay, he didn't give the impression of someone who could be entrusted with important explanatory duties regarding students. Were they short-staffed? Or was it judged that since he was raised in a neglectful household, even a meeting with his guardians wasn't necessary?
The boy in front of me, who had apparently suffered from the school's problems, seemed even more pitiable.
"Did the gamekeeper teach you about the wizarding world comprehensively?"
At my question, he tilted his head and pondered.
"I wonder? He taught me about money like Galleons and Sickles, the Ministry of Magic, Gringotts, and things like that."
He seemed to have learned the minimum necessary for shopping in Diagon Alley today. However, other things were apparently yet to come. This might be where I could utilize the knowledge I'd accumulated. While searching my mind for things that might be helpful for him to live in the wizarding world, I opened my mouth.
"Hmm, I see... I'm not particularly knowledgeable about the outside of the wizarding world either, but I think this is a place with quite a different culture from where you were. If you're worried... haven't you bought textbooks yet? If not, when you go to the bookstore, it might be good to read some simple books.
The wizarding world is a narrow, small place, and there aren't many children's books to begin with, but you might want to read a book called 'Dealing with Muggles.' It's written from a wizard's perspective about how Muggles and wizards differ. Also, have you received the textbook list yet? The History of Magic textbook is a good book, but it covers all seven years of Hogwarts content, so it might be a bit heavy. The publication year is also old... I think if you lightly read an introductory book called 'Tales of Magic,' you'll easily understand what kind of foundation the wizarding world has and what kind of place it is."
I was so focused on outputting the thoughts in my brain that I belatedly noticed the boy was earnestly trying to memorize the book titles. This was inconsiderate of me. I took out the notebook I had in my pocket, wrote a memo so he could find the books I'd mentioned, tore it out, and handed it to him.
"This might be meddling, but please take it if you'd like. I think once you get to Hogwarts you can have friends teach you, but..."
I was aware I'd talked too much. I thought I might really be meddling, but when he received the memo, his face lit up.
"Thank you! That's really helpful, truly. I'll definitely read them."
The boy carefully put the memo into his acceptance letter envelope and gently placed it in his pocket. Just then, Madam Malkin informed the boy that his fitting was finished. Thinking he'd be in the way, the boy hurriedly stepped down from the platform. After glancing toward the exit, he turned back toward me.
"Um... I really don't know anything... Do you think I'll do well at school?"
Having talked this much, I could see he had an honest personality. I smiled and nodded.
"It'll be fine, I'm sure you'll make lots of friends."
Indeed, he'd been a likeable boy to talk with. Though there was something... something that bothered me about him. But I couldn't remember what it was.
The boy looked toward the entrance reluctantly, then turned back toward me again.
"Hagrid is waiting for me, so I have to go."
It seemed time to part. I smiled and waved to him.
"Well then, see you at Hogwarts!"
The boy also nodded and waved, then went outside the shop.
Before long, I also finished my fitting and returned to the street, and after walking for a while, I finally realized what had been bothering me.
Orphaned wizard parents, black hair, glasses. Though he apparently had a scar on his forehead that I couldn't see... wasn't he matching Harry Potter's characteristics quite well? Honestly, many years had passed since my reincarnation, and I had no confidence in recognizing young Harry Potter.
No, but surely the hero of the wizarding world wouldn't be left neglected for ten years in such a miserable state that screamed "I'm being abused," right? Right? Please say that's not the case.
I felt a chill run down my spine from my careless actions and ominous premonitions.