Secret Keeper

Chapter Two -- A Cab Ride and a Malfoy



Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to JK.



Author\'s Note: Added a whole new section to this chapter, I.E. you should tell me if you liked it. :) In fact, just go ahead and click that little link down there and tell me if my changes are good at all.



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\"So, where\'re you going?\" the cab driver glanced at his rearview mirror, eyeing his passenger with skepticism. He had seen a lot in his 20 years as a driver, picking up any manner of folk who waved him down, but this kid was something new for him. The boy looked to be your average person, but... there was something about him that was just... different. He didn\'t know whether it was the strange scar half-hidden by the mop of black hair, the bizarre luggage the boy had (an owl? Who carries an owl around with them?), or the aura of power and confidence that seemed to swirl about him.



He\'d been hailed to the curbside with a quick flick from the boys hand and, looking around, he was curious as to where the kid had come from. This was the part of town that he usually picked up his thugs and the business men who enjoyed their prostitutes; he was surprised the kid hadn\'t been mugged yet. Then again he supposed the boy hadn\'t for the reasons he had stated above. He\'d pulled over to the curb next to the boy, however, because a customer was a customer and any extra money would help at home. Popping his trunk and jumping out of his car, he wondered how the hell he was supposed to fit the kids\' huge suitcases into the back of his car as there were three, each approximately half the heighth of the kid and just as wide. The sound of gunshots and tires squealing down the street stole his gaze for a brief second and, by the time he\'d turned around, the three suitcases were gone and the kid was putting something in his shirt pocket. He had blinked, many times, trying to figure out where the suitcases had gone; they couldn\'t have simply vanished in the split second his attention had been diverted.



\"Oh, no, thank you.\" the boy had spoken up, grabbing the owl\'s cage and dismissively waving his free hand. \"I don\'t need the trunk.\"



\"I thought....\" he had frowned, looking scatteredly around the area where the boy had been standing. \"... Didn\'t you have some... luggage...?\"



The boy, who he supposed could really be on the verge of becoming a man, looked slightly uneasy, but firmly shook his head. \"No... I didn\'t have any luggage. Just my owl,\" in which he had proceeded to raise up the cage, the snowy white owl inside wearing a condescending expression. If an animal could wear an expression. Perplexed, he\'d muttered something about seeing things and closed his trunk, letting the kid get into the back seat without assistance. Good lord, he really needed to stop doing 16 hour shifts.



\"I\'m going to the Kings Cross train station.\" The boy\'s answer jerked him into the present. He glanced at his mirror again, meeting the unnervingly direct stare of the boy as he slouched his lanky form in the seat. Suddenly perturbed, he dropped his gaze to the owl in the cage next to his customer. Unfortunately, the owl was just as bad as its owner, amber eyes unnervingly direct and... intelligent.



The blaring distress of a horn wrenched his eyes from his mirror, he cursed and jerked the wheel over to the right. \"WATCH WHERE YOU\'RE GOING, BLOODY WANKER!\" he screamed out his window, fist shaking for added emphasis. \"Bloody hell. Blokes don\'t know how to drive these days.\"



\"Maybe if you kept your eyes on the road in front of you, instead of staring at your customers...\" a voice spoke up behind him.



\"Eh?\" His gaze flickered up to his rearview mirror for verification. He was met with those same startling green eyes, almost hidden behind black glasses; now they held a... wildness. As if the young kid, probably no older than 16, was a predator and he the prey, worth no more than the dirt beneath someone\'s shoe. \"What\'d you say, boy?\"



The youth just rolled his eyes, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. \"Nevermind. Just keep your eyes on the road, so we don\'t get in an accident. It\'s not polite to stare.\" he finished grumpily before turning to the window and leaning his head against it to stare outside.



Seconds later, thunder rumbled, lightning flashed and the rain poured down, a surprising, impetuous turn in the weather.



The driver swore, quickly rolled up his window and turned his wipers on high, the headlights flashing on automatically. \"Blimey, what the hell is up with this weather?\" After no immediate response, he checked his mirror. Harrumph. Stupid kid was ignoring him now.... he didn\'t know what was so interesting to see out the window considering the rain made it fair impossible to see. Bloody kids. He\'d always hated them. Ungrateful lot.



The rest of the 15 minute car ride was in silence, broken only by the scratches of the owl\'s claws on its cage floor and the pounding rhythm of the chaos outside. The silence was awkward by his standards, but the kid looked to be enjoying it as he sat with eyes closed and a peaceful expression upon his thin face. Perhaps kids, or this kid in particular, weren\'t so bad after all.



\"Well, here we are.\" he spoke loudly, pulling up next to the curb at King\'s Cross. He shifted around in his seat to partially face the boy and found a wad of money thrown his way.



\"There.\" the boy said, hand upon his owls cage. \"That\'ll be more than enough for what I owe you. Keep the change.\" A scootch here and indignant hooting from the owl at being so mandhandled there and the kid was gone.



He blinked, staring at the closed door before slowly dropping his gaze to the money strewn over his lap and center consel. \"Stupid fucking kids.\" he spat and gathered up the bills. When all was counted he found to have been paid more than twice what he was supposed to which would do well when he got back home tonight. Perhaps he could surprise his wife and son with a nice steak dinner? Kids were so nice these days.



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Phew, he\'d finally reached Platform 9 ¾. He\'d suffered through questioning looks, being stopped by security multiple times for having an owl and almost being bowled over by a hurried businessman. Thank god the Dursley\'s hadn\'t bothered to come to the actual train station this year; they had just driven to the worst part of town and kicked him out of the car with a \"You should fit in here, boy, with these freaks.\" as a goodbye. He was lucky the cabbie had been driving down that particular street or else he would have missed the train to Hogwarts. There would have been hell to pay in that event.



Glancing around, he stepped up next to the barrier, acting as if he was waiting for someone. When no one appeared to notice or care, he quickly slipped through it and in to a whole different world. Mothers tearfully coddling their first years and repeatedly reminding them to send a letter back home at least once a week, steam billowing out from the train wheels and the overall frantic pace of the platform were remembered and welcomed things to Harry. A small smile curling his mouth, he walked over to a more quiet portion of the platform and set Hedwig on the ground, fishing around in his shirt pocket for what appeared to be three toy suitcases. Some more glances around him for cautionary reasons and he set the three suitcases on the ground. A simple thought and the suitcases were enlarged; no word or wand needed.



He had discovered this ability after his 17th birthday when had been adding the last board onto the deck before a threatening storm. Hurrying to put the board into place, he hadn\'t realized that his hammer was across the yard until he had a nail in hand and was ready to pound it in. He\'d sighed and stared longingly at the misplaced hammer, wishing it would simply float over to him, when, with a startled blink and widened eyes, he saw that the hammer was doing just that. Unfortunately, in his shock, he must have lost the connection because halfway across the yard the tool dropped to the ground. As did the board Harry had been holding up, although the wood happened to land on his foot. Cursing, he had limped over to the tool and proceeded to nail the last board onto the deck. In pouring rain. Ever since then he\'d been practicing almost daily without speaking or his wand and he was pretty good at it now, thank you very much.



Hermione and Ron remained clueless about his gift to this day. For some reason, he just didn\'t feel.... safe telling them. He didn\'t even need to think about their predictable reactions; Ron would be shell-shocked, staring at him as if he was some kind of god that had deigned to be in his presence, prior to asking him, in a simpering tone, if it was a new side affect from his \"You-Know-Who\" scar; Hermione would blather on and on about how he shouldn\'t use magic, unintentional or otherwise, where he could be seen by muggles and then would bury herself in a mound of books at the Hogwarts library at her first opportunity. He had tried doing his own research on why he was able to do word- and wandless magic as well as why he was able to change animals. He knew it was some kind of inheritance, or rather he figured it was, because both of those abilities had shown up after his 17th birthday and his senses had gotten stronger. However, despite his best efforts, he couldn\'t find a single book on what he could possibly be. He had surfed through books and books about vampires, veela\'s, elves and many others to no avail. Maybe he could contrive a good excuse and get into the restricted section of --



He yelped, finding himself with a face full of suitcase as he sprawled across the tops of them. Fearing the worst since he could hear Hedwig hooting and flapping her wings frantically, he awkwardly whipped around, hand on his wand. He was confronted with Hogwarts resident bully and his rival of six years, Draco Malfoy, goons ensconced on either side of him. Draco had done some growing up as well; he looked to be around 6 foot with a lean and lithe figure and his face was no longer \'pointy\', softer, more angular instead, the bones of his face settling into their final position. \'Ah,\' Harry thought, \'cue Malfoy. Let verbal repartée begin.\'



\"Oh, excuse me, Potter.\" Malfoy drawled, silver eyes glittering cool indifference. \"Didn\'t even see you there. Although...\" He tilted his head, an unidentified emotion flitting through his cool gaze. \"that... position does suit you better.\" A derisive chuckle, another sneer, and he was gone before Harry could so much as speak a word in his defence.



Grumbling, he heaved himself up and was in the process of cleaning any dirt off his pants when he suddenly froze. \'Wait a minute... Did... Did Malfoy... say what I thought he said? And what the bloody hell did he mean by it?\'



\"HARRY! Are you all right?!\"



\"HARRY! I\'m gonna kill that ruddy bastard!\"



\'And enter Hermione and Ron, to my defense as always.\' He grimaced slightly before giving them a half-hearted smile - mostly for their benefit.



\"Yeah, I\'m fine, guys. Malfoy was just being a prick, like usual.\"



After a few more reassurances and vows of revenge, they were on the train to Hogwarts, their luggage stowed away and chocolate frogs being passed around as they sat in their usual compartment.



Seventh year was going to be vastly different than any other and, yet, they didn\'t even realize that they were already taking their first tentative steps into their fates.