–
Months continued to pass and summer came. With it came and went Harry's 10th birthday – once again overlooked and not celebrated by anyone. In the fall Harry dropped in on the inner circle member that he had questioned the previous spring and questioned the man again, but there had been no changes. Tom still hadn't made an appearance and still had not summoned any of his Death Eaters to him.
It seemed that quite a few of the old Death Eaters – especially those that had been inner circle numbers, were now aware of him on some level. Those that had been captured and questioned by Harry had warned the others. It was probably better this way, since now if Tom only went to one or two of them they would all be able to relay Harry's message. The sooner Tom realized that Heri had succeeded in his plan for rebirth, the sooner they would likely find each other.
The weeks continued to pass with no new developments. Harry was bored out of his mind and tried to keep his impatience at bay by focusing on his studies. It was a lonely existance that he led, and he was finding that it was really beginning to bother him. So much of his previous life had been lived in the constant company of another. He and Tom were almost always together, so even though Heri had never had a lot of people he would consider 'friends' he was rarely alone. But he'd been almost entirely alone for nearly a decade, now.
He had people he was acquainted to. Most of them knew him only in his glamoured form, and by the name Lucan. There were a couple witches from the local library and the magical historical society that he was friendly with, and while he wouldn't consider himself close to any, the simple act of being able to converse with other people was always a welcome reprieve.
Still... it wasn't Tom. He missed his Tom. So badly...
The hardest part at the moment was knowing that the man was out there, somewhere, alive and living, and Harry had no idea where he was, or how to find him. So very, very frustrating.
–
Very little was accomplished that year. The only noteworthy things were a few extremely rare books that Harry had managed to acquire. There was a rare and antique books dealer who had a tiny little cubby hole in Knockturn Alley that had a lot of connections with a lot of the old families, and often helped people resell things from estate sales and the like. Harry had been paying him visits for several years now and it was during this year that Harry set him to the task of finding any old families that had any books in their personal collections that were written in parseltongue.
The book dealer had been surprised by the request but had set to his task quickly enough. By spring, he had managed to find two parseltongue books for Harry, and Harry had been more than happy to pay the rather outrageous price the families had been asking for, for handing them over.
Harry didn't mind – he could afford it.
One of the books was very very old, written on strange reed-paper and bound in tanned murloc skin. It was filled with quaint illustrations of snake children and he quickly realized that it was a collection of fairy tales, for Naga children. Harry was astounded by the historical value to such a text and even though it had no magical value to him, he loved it. The naga were a very ancient and powerful magical creature race, and they were also incredibly secretive. They tended to keep their distance from wizards, and British wizards had almost no interactions with them at all.
They lived mostly in areas of India, and had interacted with the wizards of that region some, many years ago, but a lack of understanding and a prejudice against magical creatures led to strained relationships.
Parseltongue was the language of the serpents and generally speaking, serpents did not have hands. They had no ability to write and as such, many people were surprised that parseltongue even had a written language. But it did, and it was entirely because of races like the Naga of India, the Gorgons of Greece, and the Yuan-ti of China.
The second book that Harry had acquired was more of a magical theory book though, and it seemed to originate from the Yuan-ti. It spoke of a lot of astronomical magic, and reading the stars, and some very old divination techniques. Not an area he tended to care a lot about, but an interesting read non-the-less.
He was fascinated with the way that the strange squiggles on the page seemed to slither into position where they would suddenly appear to be normal english writing. It was an intriguing magical language and he could see why Tom had been so fascinated by his ability to read and speak it.
In the spring he paid another visit to two of the Death Eaters he had questioned before – one of the outer circle members and the one inner circle member he'd questioned. Nothing new had come from either. There had been no change in the nature of their marks. They were still active and bright and the magic in them was very strong. Stronger than it had been the last time he'd seen either of them, in fact.
But neither had been called, nor had either heard even the slightest whisper about the Dark Lord returning.
As summer drew nearer, Harry felt his anticipation and anxiety level rising. He was turning eleven this July, which mean he would be getting his Hogwarts letter this summer and starting school this fall.
Harry was rather conflicted on this subject. Part of him wondered if there was even any valid point in bothering to go. He wasn't going to have access to more information at Hogwarts – if anything, he'd be more isolated and restricted since he wouldn't have free reign to visit Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley whenever he wanted.
He'd already done some light research on what other wizarding children would be at Hogwarts, and quite a few Death Eater's children would be there, but Harry doubted that getting close to them would make a significant difference in his hunt for Tom. Being at Hogwarts would likely severely limit his opportunities and time to search for Tom, and that annoyed him. But he knew that if he didn't go, people would notice. Albus Dumbledore, most notably, would notice. People would search for him. In the end, he'd be forced to go. He was the bloody Boy-Who-Lived. He was famous. There wasn't a witch or wizard in Britain who didn't know his name.
As long as they all expected Harry Potter to be secreted away in the muggle world, no one worried about him, but the wizarding world was expecting him to make his grand reappearance this year, and there really wasn't anything he could do about that.
But he knew he needed a gameplan for his official return to the wizarding world as Harry Potter. Would he play to their expectations, or would he be himself?
The world thought of 'Harry Potter' as a boy-hero. Savior of the Light wizarding world. Both of his parents had been Gryffindors and there was no doubt that the world expected the same of him.
Part of him severely doubted that there was any chance he could get into Gryffindor, even if he had wanted to... which he didn't.
But if he did, he could easily try to gain a following there. Everyone was already anxious and scrambling to meet and greet the famous Harry Potter. He'd learned that easily by listening in on some conversations in a few pubs over the last month as the shopkeepers got ready for the summer crowds and the school shoppers.
Tom already had his followers, and there was really no challenge in getting the Slytherins to follow them, but getting followers from the Gryffindors? Now that would be an accomplishment. A real challenge.
One that Harry wasn't even sure he could pull off. But he had to remind himself that he already had a name. He was already famous. So maybe it wouldn't really be that hard.
Still, Harry wasn't convinced he had the patience to endure Gryffindor house, or spending any time in the company of Gryffindors. He would much prefer to go to Slytherin house. But would Slytherin house want him? He was the one who had destroyed their Lord... how hostile would his house be to him, if that was where he ended up?
And of course there was the additional concern of Dumbledore. Harry was sure that if he got sorted into Slytherin, Dumbledore would be keeping a close watch on him. A very close watch. And that would be extraordinarily annoying.
But maybe he could get the best of both worlds? Aim for Ravenclaw instead. Slytherins tolerated the Ravenclaws more than any other house. Fraternizing between Slytherin and Ravenclaw was never frowned against. And, while Gryffindors were often academically intimidated by Ravens, they didn't instantly assume they were evil, like they did with the Snakes.
He had already had a lot of success working the prodigy angle in his muggle primary school. Playing up the bookworm angle could help explain his advanced magical knowledge. The more he thought about it, it was probably the best option he had.
He finally settled with knowing that he could make a hundred plans for any of the three different houses, but in the end, it would be up to the Hat as to where he ended up. He could ask the hat for Ravenclaw, but that was no guarantee. But who knew? Maybe it would work.
He knew all about how the hat worked. Tom had done a lot of research on it because it was a founders artifact created by Godric Griffindor himself, and Tom had, at one point, considered trying to use it to hold a horcrux. Contrary to popular belief, the hat couldn't actually read a person's entire mind. It could read your surface thoughts at the moment that it was on your head, and it could read your personality, but that was it. So it wouldn't know who Harry really was – or who he used to be. He was safe in that regard at least. It could tell if you were excited by books and learning, or if you were a hard worker, or if you were loyal, or cunning, or brave... but it didn't have any context to that knowledge. It couldn't access your memories or your knowledge. Apparently the founders had thought such a thing would have been too great an invasion of privacy – plus it would have been incredibly difficult to craft such an object.
In the end, he was probably going to end up in Slytherin again, but he would ask for Ravenclaw and see if it worked.
Whatever house he ended up in, he would make it work. He had always prided himself on being very adaptable.
–
Harry endured Privet Drive for most of July out of caution. He didn't want to risk that his Hogwarts acceptance letter might get addressed to his house in Godric's Hollow. He knew that the letters were supposed to be penned automatically by a charmed quill, created by Rowena Ravenclaw, but the chance always remained that someone might handle and make note of his letter, specifically, before it was sent on.
All of the letters intended for first year muggleborn students were automatically separated into a second pile so that a faculty member could pay them a visit in person. Seeing as how Harry was supposed to have been raised entirely in the muggle world by muggles, it was entirely possible that he would get a faculty visit. If they expected his letter to be addressed to Little Whinging and it was addressed to Godric's Hollow instead, that would likely raise some questions.
The Dursley's obviously noticed that something was going on since he was spending such an unusual amount of time in their house during a summer month. Just because he had to live in their house didn't mean he had to actually spend any of his time with them though, so he was caught off guard a little when Petunia brought his breakfast up to his room one morning – a rather strange event in and off itself, since she usually only brought him dinner and allowed him to simply prepare his own food the rest of the day – and brought with it, a letter.
She gave him a very tight scowl, glancing between his questioning gaze and the tray of food in her hands before she set it down and jabbed her arm out, thrusting the letter into his hands.
Harry blinked at her and then down at the letter, his eyes widened slightly and a small smirk turning up his lips.
"Does this mean you'll be leaving us now?" she asked stiffly.
Harry looked up and gave her a bored look. "Basically. I need to spend at least one night every two weeks here to keep the wards active. I'll probably have to do the same thing next summer, but I might make other arrangements."
"If you don't come back, what's going to happen to Vernon?" she asked coldly.
Harry shrugged. "Nothing. He's lost a few years off his life from past transgressions, but once I'm gone, I doubt I'm going to bother concerning myself with your husband again."
"And if you die? Does he die?"
"At the moment, yes. I don't have any plans on allowing myself to die anytime soon though, and once I'm seventeen, and I am guaranteed that I will never again have to deal with you or your whale of a husband, I'll sever the tie and he'll be free of me. Satisfied?"
She gave him a curt nod before spinning around and disappearing down the hall.
Harry rolled his eyes, moved the tray of food to his bed and sat down. He broke the seal on his letter and quickly opened it.
It was amazing how very little was different from his first acceptance letter. Only this one wasn't written by Dumbledore, but was instead written by Minerva McGonagall. He was mildly surprised that he hadn't gotten a faculty visit. He highly doubted, had he not taken control of the situation himself, that the Dursley's would have ever told him about wizards. It was also odd that his letter had arrived with the normal post. He had no owl at his disposal for sending his reply. Perhaps the school owl was still out there...
He paused, climbing off his bed to look out the window. There, perched on the wooden fence between number 4 and number 5 Privet drive, was a brown barn owl. Well that answered that question. He opened his window and whistled to the owl. It looked up at him and cocked it's head to the side, observing him for a moment before it took flight and came to rest upon his window sill.
Harry grabbed a piece of bacon off his plate and fed it to the bird while he went back to his letter.
The supply list was almost the exact same as it had been during his original first year, which was a true testament to how very little the wizarding world changed over the years, seeing as how it had been fifty bleedin' years.
The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, was still going to be one of his primary textbooks, although he hoped it was a newer revision. It truly would be sad if it were the same bloody book. It wasn't like magic never advanced or changed. People crafted new spells all the time, and others were always making adjustments and improvements to existing spells, taking into account new discoveries, and making the magical draw more efficient.
Harry pulled out a muggle notebook with lined paper and used a muggle fountain pen to craft his reply. Since it was expected that he only had exposure to muggles, it would look odd if he used parchment, or wrote with a quill.
He sat at his desk and paused, wondering how he should approach this. Would it be odd if he didn't ask for confirmation, or ask questions about how to get to Diagon Alley? It was within reason to expect that Petunia had probably been to the magical district a few times. She had recognized where Harry had intended to go, when he was five years old and asked her to take him to Charing Cross road, so she obviously knew, at least vaguely, where Diagon Alley was. Still... his relatives were muggles, and he was supposed to be an eleven-year-old boy with no experience in the wizarding world.
He read over his letter and supply list again. The envelope included his train ticket for the Hogwarts Express, but no where in the letter was it explained how to gain access to Platform 9 3/4s. That would be a reasonable thing to ask for clarification. The letter also failed to even mention Diagon Alley.
He huffed out a sigh and began to pen his response. He started by accepting his place at Hogwarts with the proper enthusiasm of a young boy, just about to go to Hogwarts for the first time. He then asked the questions that he figured he would expect to be ignorant of. Where to buy his supplies, where he was supposed to get money to buy said supplies with, and how to get to this oddly numbered platform at the train station.
When done, he folded it up, wrote 'Head Mistress Minerva McGonagall' on the back and attached it to the owl's leg.
He huffed a little with the realization that he would need to stay at Privet Drive a few more days in order to receive his response.
– –
A few days passed without a response and Harry was quickly becoming rather annoyed. He had things to attend to before having to close up his Godric's Hollow house for the school year, and he was wasting precious time sitting in his room on Privet Drive. At least he had some of his books here, so he wasn't completely bored.
He was reclining on his bed, reading when his stomach reminded him that he had skipped breakfast and it was nearing lunch. He closed his book, stood from his bed and made his way out of the room and down the stairs. He had just rounded the bottom of the stairs and was heading towards the kitchen when a tremendous thump echoed against the door behind him.
Harry actually jumped in place, shocked by the unexpected sound and whirled around to face the door. Another thump echoed through the hall and the door shuddered as if it had been struck by some tremendous force. Again, it was struck and Harry finally jumped out of his stupor and scurried over to the door.
"What the devil is that racket?" he heard Vernon bellow from up the stairs and turned his head to glance up the stairs at the man who was looking down at Harry and the door with a mixture of rage and fear.
Harry's wand was tucked into the waistband of his pants at the small of his back, and his hand itched for it as he approached the door, but he knew using magic on Privet Drive now, when he was so near the finish line would be stupid. If it came to it, he could rely on his necromantic powers to defend himself against whatever the hell was beyond the door.
Another great thump echoed through the house again and Harry quickly reached and pulled the door open before it was knocked right off it's hinges. The hulking figure he found standing on the other side was standing with his hand raised in a fist as if he were preparing to knock again. He was enormous – far taller and larger than any man had any right to be. His face was also engulfed in a huge mane of brown messy curls and an equally messy and curly beard.
Recognition dawned on Harry as he realized he knew this man, and he had to fight to keep the recognition off his face.
"Well 'ello there! Sorry 'bout tha door. Wasn't sure yeh heard me knockin'."
Harry blinked at the man. "We definitely heard you," he deadpanned. "Er... who are you?" he asked, knowing it was best to play ignorant.
"The name's Rubeus Hagrid. Grounds Keeper and Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts. You'll be knowin' what Hogwarts is ah'course."
"Oh... the school I got a letter from the other day?" Harry responded.
"You got tha' right."
"So er... Mr. Hagrid, do you want to come in?" Harry asked, trying to sound a bit timid.
"Jus' Hagrid. None uh this 'Mister' stuff fer meh. Thanks." Hagrid stepped inside, ducking under the door frame and closing the door behind him with a great thack.
Vernon's face was puce with anger, but he was holding himself perfectly still and not speaking a word. Harry had trained him well and he had to fight back a smirk.
"Come on into the sitting room, Hagrid. Can I get you some tea?"
"Nah, thanks, Harry. You are Harry, of course? It's been since ya were a babe that I saw ya last."
Harry gave him a surprised blink. "Have I met you before?"
"You bet yeh have. I knew yer parents, I did. Brought you here, in fact. That night... well, we dun need the talk 'bout that righ' now. So Professor McGonagall said yeh wrote her a letter askin' fer some help, so I'm here teh help!"
"Oh. Well, I wasn't really expecting someone to come in person. A letter would have been sufficient for a response. I just asked for some clarification on a few things. There was no need for you to go to all the trouble of coming here in person."
"Nonsense, 'arry! I dun mind a'tall and I'd be thrilled ta show ya 'round Diagon Alley and help ya wit yer school supply shoppin'!"
Harry had to fight hard to keep his expression blank. He wanted to scowl and snarl at the man that he needed no such help and would much prefer if the man would just leave, but he doubted he could do that and not call attention to himself so he conceded.
He partook in some small talk with the halfbreed giant for a bit while his relatives stayed as far away as they could manage. At one point Hagrid pulled a rather squashed looking package out of his oversized furry coat and handed it to Harry while remarking that he may have sat on it at some point. Harry had been bewildered by it, and was even more confused as he opened it and found that it was a cake. Or at least, it looked like it was supposed to be a cake. He'd looked up at Hagrid in confusion and the half-giant had beamed at him for a moment before wishing Harry a happy birthday. Harry had just blinked at the man for a few moments before he managed to recover his senses and thanked the man. Finally he and Hagrid left the house and Hagrid called the Knight Bus to them by sticking a ridiculous looking pink umbrella into the air, instead of a wand, as was normally needed in order to summon the bus.
Harry knew that back during he and Tom's fifth year, when Tom had managed to pin the whole Chamber of Secrets fiasco on Hagrid that the half-giant had had his wand snapped as punishment. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that he may have kept the remains of said wand and was still putting it to use.
The Knight Bus ride was as unstable and chaotic as ever. The pair were both relieved to disembark the insane bright purple triple-decker bus as soon as it had screeched to a stop in front of the Leaky Cauldron.
Harry frowned slightly at the thought of entering the Alley without any of his glamours for the first time since his very first visit nearly six years earlier. He really hadn't planned on making a public appearance in the alleys as 'Harry Potter' at all, but it looked like he had no choice now.
Hagrid made a brief explanation about how muggles couldn't see the pub at all as he ushered Harry forward. They entered the pub and Hagrid was almost instantly greeted by the barman, who asked him if he wanted the usual.
"Not t'day. On official Hogwarts business. I gotta show Harry here around ta get his school supplies."
The barman's eyes darted down to Harry and widened in what would have been comical if not for the reason why the man's eyes were widening. His gaze was leveled directly on Harry's forehead and Harry found his eyes narrowing in annoyance.
"Good lord, it can't be... is this?" the barman spluttered as he looked down, wide-eyed at Harry. "Bless my soul. What an honor. Harry Potter!"
As the words left the near-toothless man's mouth, the rest of the occupants of the pub instantly looked in their direction. Within a fraction of a minute, Harry was being completely overwhelmed by witches, wizards, and even a couple hags, all fighting for a chance to shake his hand and gush at him.
Harry fought against his urge to growl and snarl at them and endured most of it... for a minute, anyway. Finally he hit his limit and squeezed out from the group and went to hide behind Hagrid's massive form. The half-giant got the message and quickly started to shoo the bothersome witches and wizards away. He led Harry out the back door and into an empty courtyard and a brick wall.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief and fresh air while Hagrid took out that pink umbrella again and tapped the pattern away on the brick wall, causing it to fold in on itself, exposing the archway to the magical shopping district.
"Well, 'arry, welcome to Diagon Alley!" Hagrid said with a big beaming smile.
Harry made a show of acting appropriately awed. He gasped and gaped at everything while keeping a close eye on any crowds and trying to keep his forehead as covered as he could manage.
Hagrid started by leading Harry to Gringott's. He led them to a teller and fished out Harry's key that he had apparently gotten from Dumbledore. Harry shared a look with a few of the goblins as they made to acknowledge his presence there. It seemed that his silent plea was enough to get the proper message across because they all acted as if they didn't know him.
Harry couldn't help but take note that Hagrid never once mentioned a family vault, nor did he give Harry the key to his family vault. Harry wasn't about to think that it was actually Hagrid's intent to deceive him – he rather doubted the oaf would be capable of it – no, the most likely scenario was that Hagrid honestly didn't know. Dumbledore had only told Hagrid about Harry's trust vault and nothing about the other.
They were taken down to the vault by Griphook and Harry scooped up an appropriate amount of galleons. Dumbledore would likely continue to get the account statements, so Harry took out enough to buy all his school supplies and for spending money for the school year.
After they were done at Harry's vault, Hagrid took a detour to another vault, sighting 'Hogwarts business'. He apparently was doing Dumbledore a favor by fetching something for him. Harry hadn't actually been even the slightest bit interested up until the moment the goblin opened the large heavily warded door, allowing Hagrid inside, and Harry's Sight picked up a tremendously powerful bit of magic inside. He perked up, his attention locked upon a small grubby-looking package that Hagrid picked up off of a small pedestal in the center of the otherwise empty vault.
Harry gave a tiny frustrated grunt as the package was stuffed hastily into Hagrid's inner coat pocket, and out of Harry's view. He had no idea what the hell it had been, but it was clearly an incredibly powerful magical artifact. It's aura had spun powerfully of Light magic, and his Sight was pretty bad at deciphering the intricacies of that particular branch. He probably could have made some things out, had he the opportunity to actually look the object over and examine it with some spells, but as it was, it had been wrapped up, and quickly stowed away. Harry frowned in frustration as his powerful sense of curiosity was raging with frustration. He huffed quietly and tried to put the matter out of his mind.
The ride back up to the surface clearly didn't sit well with Hagrid and by the time the pair left the bank, the large man was green in the face. He led Harry to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions and asked Harry if he minded if Hagrid headed off for a 'pick-me-up' at the pub while Harry was fitted for his robes.
Obviously, Harry didn't mind this at all. Hagrid headed back down the alley towards the Leaky Cauldron and Harry headed inside the the robes shop.
"Hogwarts, dear?" a squat, smiling witch asked him, once she spotted him.
"Yes ma'am," Harry said, giving the witch a polite, charming, smile.
"Well, come right over here. I've got another young man being fitted right now."
She led him into the back of the shop where a pale boy with a strangely familiar pointed face was being measured by another witch.
Harry was led to stand on a footstool beside the boy and Madam Malkin slipped a long robe over Harry's head and began to pin it to the right length.
He glanced over at the pale boy out of the corner of his eye. His facial features were strikingly familiar and Harry suspected that he knew the boy's parents or grandparents in his previous life. He had the coloration of a Malfoy, but the eyes, jaw, and lips of a Black. He reminded Harry a lot of Cygnus when he was 11, actually.
"Hogwarts too?" the boy drawled.
"Obviously," Harry drawled in return, because – really? It was a pretty obvious question. He was being fitting for Hogwarts school robes for Merlin's sake.
"First year?"
"Yes."
"Same here. Although, my father's on the board of Governor's, and I was able to visit the school last year so it won't be the first time I've seen it."
"He's on the board?" Harry replied, suspecting more and more that his guess as to the boy's heritage was accurate. Both the Malfoy family and the Black family held inherited seats on the board of Governor's.
"Yes. Right now he's next door buying books and Mother's up the street looking at wands. Then I'm off to look at racing brooms. Don't see why first years can't have their own broom."
"I've never been particularly fond of flying to be honest. It can be enjoyable of course, but it's far from the most efficient means of transportation."
"For transport, sure, but what about Quidditch?"
"I suppose I was never much of a sports fan," Harry said with a dismissive shrug. The pale boy seemed to be looking at him with an air of disbelieving shock.
"What wizard doesn't like Quidditch?"
Harry smirked. "This wizard, I guess."
"You're obviously barmy and most definitely not the norm."
Harry choked out a laugh and shrugged. "I won't argue with you there."
"Well, I do enjoy flying and I can't understand why they wouldn't allow first years to bring their own broom."
"They don't trust eleven year olds with access to brooms whenever they want. They want to make sure that we can only take off into the air when supervised," Harry said, rolling his eyes.
"Well, I think it's stupid. I've been flying for years and I certainly don't need a babysitter. I think I'm going to bully Father into getting me a racing broom and smuggle it in somehow."
"Just have your father shrink it and stick it in the bottom of your trunk. Have you already purchased your trunk?"
"Not yet."
"Well get one with a space-expanded false bottom. Stick it in there."
The pale boy's eyes lit up with excitement and then he grinned smugly. "I just might do that."
"So what's your name?" Harry asked, eager to see if he'd been right.
"Draco Malfoy," the pale boy said, extending out a hand.
Harry's eyes lit up and a smug grin spread across his lips. "I knew it. A Malfoy. Is your mum a Black, or related to them? Judging by the constellation name, I'm guessing I'm right on that front too."
Draco blinked as Harry accepted his hand and shook it. "You're right. My mother is Narcissa Black."
"Narcissa? Cygnus's youngest daughter, right?"
"That's right." Draco responded with a frown of confusion.
Harry laughed and took his hand back so that the witch could resume pinning his sleeve. "You and I are actually related, then."
Draco's eyes widened slightly before narrowing. "Related? How so?"
"I think it would be second cousin twice removed? Something like that... So your grandfather is Cygnus Black, yeah? His father was Pollux Black. My grandmother on my father's side is Dorea Black, Pollux Black's sister."
"You're related to the Blacks then?"
"That's right." Harry said with a nod.
"What's your name then?"
"Oh, sorry! That was rather rude of me. I asked you your name and never gave mine back. I apologize. I'm Harry Potter."
Draco looked like he was about to give some sort of snooty retort about Harry's 'rudeness' up until the moment Harry spoke his name. Then Draco's eyes widened dramatically and his jaw actually dropped.
"Harry Potter?" Draco exclaimed.
Harry noticed that even the two seamstresses had paused in their work and were looking up at him with wide eyes.
"You're going to catch flies if you keep that up," Harry said and Draco's jaw snapped shut.
Some sort of realization seemed to pass over Draco's eyes because they suddenly lit up even more. "I'm related to Harry Potter?"
Harry mock gasped, "I'm related to Draco Malfoy?"
Draco frowned at him in confusion before he apparently recognized Harry's sarcasm and glared for a moment. However, it passed quickly and the glare was replaced as a slew of different emotions seemed to pass through the pale boy's gaze. Confusion, elation, bewilderment, a sneer of mild disgust, and then elation again. Harry could almost see the cogs turning in his head as he went over every thing he thought he knew about Harry Potter.
"I didn't know the Potters had any ties with the Blacks," Draco finally said.
Harry hummed and nodded his head slightly. "I'm not really sure how it happened, but my grandparents are Charlus Potter and Dorea Black. It could have been an arranged marriage, but I have trouble believing that since Dorea's father never got on with the Potters, even if they were an old pureblood family..." Harry's voice trailed off for a moment before he shook his head and shrugged. "But who knows. Maybe Charlus and Dorea worked together and fell in love or something. Defying family politics and all that. Some sort of romantic drivel. Who knows."
Draco nodded his head slowly, but Harry got the feeling that the boy hadn't entirely followed all of what he'd said. Not that it mattered.
"So your father is Lucius Malfoy?" Harry asked, changing the topic some.
"Yes, that's right." Draco replied instantly as his back straightened and he seemed to puff up a bit in pride.
"I think I'd like to meet your father. I've heard a lot of great things about him. Out of curiosity, is your great aunt Astraea still alive?"
"Great aunt Astraea? Yes, she is. Why?"
"No reason. Just curious. So you said your father is buying your books? Will he be coming here afterwards?"
"Yes, he should be."
Harry hummed and nodded his head. "Would you be willing to introduce me? I've heard quite a lot about your father. He's a very powerful and influential man."
"Of course. I'm sure father would be very interested in meeting you as well." Draco smirked slightly and Harry smirked right back. Draco no doubt knew that his father would be very pleased with him if he managed to establish some sort of amicable relation with the Boy-Who-Lived.
A moment passed in silence as the seamstresses finished with the pinning, removed the fitting robes and took them over to magical mannequins to begin casting the spells that would automatically sew the hems.
"Good lord, what is that horrendous creature by the door?" Draco sneered and Harry's head popped up to look.
"Oh..." Harry said as he repressed a groan as he saw Hagrid come to stand just outside the shop door and peer inside. "That's my escort."
"Your escort?" Draco exclaimed in horror.
Harry snickered. "Yes, unfortunately. As I'm sure you know, I'm an orphan. My legal guardians weren't in a position where they could bring me to Diagon Alley. I was expecting the school to send a faculty member to assist me, but instead I got the bloody groundskeeper. I suppose it could be worse... well, I'll just keep telling myself that anyway. It's only for today, at least. I would have been perfectly capable of coming here on my own and tried to argue that when the big oaf came to pick me up, but he wouldn't hear it."
"That's awful. Having to go around being seen in public with, with... that."
Harry barely suppressed a snort. "Yes... but as I said, it's just a day. I'll live."
"That's ridiculous. You could simply come with us. Father and Mother would be perfectly happy to escort you around the alley. Father is on the Hogwarts board of Governor's so he's more than qualified to be your escort. More so than the ruddy groundskeeper," Draco finished with a sneer.
Harry chuckled quietly but shook his head as he leaned in closer to whisper to the blond. "Believe me, your offer is incredibly tempting. The thing is that I'm trying to attract as little attention as possible from one, Albus Dumbledore. As I'm sure you can understand, being who I am comes with a lot of strings attached. There are a lot of powerful people out there who want to get their grimy hands on me and Dumbledore is probably the most powerful of them all. Anything that happens here in Diagon Alley is sure to get reported back to the man, thanks to his pet giant over there.
"The man's gaze is already going to be lodged firmly on me, so I have to be cautious of what I do in public, and who I'm seen with. I also highly doubt that Hagrid would willingly leave me in your father's care, considering who your father is and the sort of opinion ignorant people like Dumbledore hold of him. But perhaps we could arrange to meet up at another time?"
Draco blinked but quickly recovered his proper mask and gave Harry a curt nod. "That should be possible. I'm sure Father would be more than happy to accommodate your desire for discretion."
Harry grinned. "I knew I could count on you to understand, Draco. The Malfoy's have always been a great family."
Draco puffed up smugly at that, clearly pleased with how he was managing to handle the situation.
Harry looked at the witch who was directing the hemming of one of his knew school robes to match the first pinned measurements that had been taken earlier. The witch who had been attending to Draco was now doing the same thing.
"Do either of you have a bit of parchment that I could use? And a quill?" Harry asked the two witches.
One of them looked up and smiled at him. She swished her wand and a piece of parchment and quill flew from the purchase counter and he caught them. He jumped down off the small platform he'd been standing on and used a nearby counter to write down a quick note. He glanced over quickly to see Hagrid peering into the open doorway of the shop looking rather anxious.
Harry handed the parchment over to Draco, who took it and quickly read it with a small frown.
"A post box?" Draco asked, looking up.
"Yeah, I've had to resort to renting a private post box in order to get any mail. Dumbledore has a charm set to intercept any mail addressed to Harry Potter."
"He steals your mail?" Draco gasped, clearly affronted by the idea.
Harry's eyes narrowed in anger and he nodded his head. "Yes, he does. It's a rather sore spot with me, actually. But I haven't done anything about it because if I did he'd know right away and I don't want him to know that I know he's doing it."
"He has no right to do such a thing! Wait till father hears about this..."
"He's my legal magical guardian, so it could be argued that he does have the right. I'm sure he'd use some ridiculous excuse about protecting me from my fan mail, and the possibility of cursed letters. That sort of nonsense. He'd get away with it easily enough and it's a battle that I don't consider worth exposing myself over, so I've let it slide. Anyway, tell your father to write me at that address and I should be able to get the letter right away. I try to check that post box at least once or twice a week."
Draco nodded his head. "Alright."
"Perhaps we can arrange a visit to Malfoy Manor," Harry said with a grin. It had been a long time since he'd been to the great Malfoy ancestral home. He wondered how much of it had changed since Abraxas' time. "If you manage to convince your father to get you that racing broom, you can show it off to me," Harry concluded with a smirk that got Draco grinning snootily.
"I'll do that." Draco said with a smug grin as his nose tipped a bit into the air.
After another minute the seamstress witch had Harry's school robes and cloak ready, he paid, bid Draco farewell, and left the store. It wasn't until he got back out onto the street that he realized Hagrid was carrying a large cage with a rather beautiful white owl in it.
"What's that?" Harry asked, somewhat dumbfounded.
"An owl, a'course! Happy Birthday!" Hagrid said has he handed the cage over to Harry who had to struggle to grab it without dropping his bag from the robes shop.
"Birthday? But... but you already got me that er... cake-thing."
"Ah, now tha' was hardly a proper present, 'arry! 'Sides, I thought you could use a post owl! Tha' way ye can send letters back to yer relatives while yer away at 'ogwarts!"
Harry looked up at him with a blank expression for a moment before he sighed slightly and forced a smile onto his face. "That was really thoughtful of you, Hagrid. Thank you."
"Yer welcome, 'arry!"
Next, at Harry's suggestion, they went to the luggage store so Harry could get his school trunk, and have somewhere to stow all of his other purchases for the rest of the day. He went with a very basic standard trunk since Hagrid was there. It was safer this way anyway, since he could simply put his own expansion and security charms on it, but it would look like nothing more than the barebones model that most first years got.
The only charm he had the shopkeep put on it was one that made a pair of wheels grow out of one end of the bottom, while a handle grew out from the other end. It required the tap of a wand and since Harry still had to hide the fact that he already had one, he had Hagrid activate the charm with his pink umbrella. The two left the shop with Harry wheeling the trunk behind him; handle in one hand, while the owl's cage was in his other.
Next was the stationary store where Harry got parchment and quills and binders for organizing his school work. Next was the apothecary where he purchased all of his potion ingredients, a cauldron, scales, and crystal phials. The next store they purchased his telescope and a set of star charts. Finally they went to Florish and Blotts bookstore and Harry purchased a complete set of first year text books. Since he was planning to aim for a bit of an overachiever-bookworm image to explain some of his extra knowledge, he went ahead and purchased quite a few additional texts that would be appropriate for an eleven-year-old. Hagrid would likely give a full report to Dumbledore once he was back at the school, so Harry didn't buy anything that was actually interesting.
The last stop was the one that Harry was looking forward to the least. Hagrid led him to Ollivander's and Harry couldn't help but feel a bit nervous. The man had always creeped Harry out, and he couldn't help but suspect that the man was not entirely human seeing as how he had looked ancient when Harry had come here as Heri, over fifty years ago, and from the brief glances he'd caught over the last few years when he ventured into the alley, he appeared to look just as ancient now.
Hagrid came to a stop at the entrance to Ollivander's wand shop and ushered Harry. He followed, ducking to squeeze through the doorway and then looked around nervously for a moment before choosing to sit down in a rather spindly looking chair in the corner. Harry heard it groan in protest under the large man's weight, but that was it. He instantly decided that it had to have been enchanted in some way to prevent it from simply collapsing beneath the man the instant he sat on it.
Harry turned his attention back to the seemingly empty shop. He knew it wasn't though. He could feel a shimmer of another wizard's presence in the shop, even if he couldn't see the man. Thousands of narrow boxes containing wands were piled right up to the ceiling of the tiny shop, on all walls, and the whole place had a thin layer of dust about it. His Sight was alight with all of the magic in the air. Wands always had a powerful magical glow about them and being in a room with so many wands was actually a bit overwhelming.
"Good Afternoon" a familiar voice suddenly sounded from just behind him. Harry sighed slightly in annoyance that the man had somehow managed to avoid his detection and worst of all, get behind him without him noticing. How the hell did he do that?
Definitely not human...
Harry turned slowly, absolutely refusing to show the man the shock and surprise he no doubt wanted to get in response. He smiled at the man politely although his gaze was a bit cold. Ollivander's bushy white eyebrows rose slightly for a moment before his lips quirked into an amused grin.
"Hello," Harry responded simply.
"Ah, yes... yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. You have your mother's eyes. It seems like just yesterday that she was in here herself, buying her first wand," Mr. Ollivander said. "Ten and a quarter inches long; swishy, made of willow. Good for charms work."
He moved closer to Harry, and Harry refused to react outwardly, even though the fact that the man had yet to blink even once was beginning to unnerve him, considerably.
"Your father on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand," the old wizard continued before spewing out the exact specifications of James Potter's wand. The man's bizarre perfect memory really only added additional weight to Harry's suspicions that the man was less than human.
As he spoke, Ollivander had continued to lean in closer and closer until the point that they were piratically nose-to-nose and Harry was quickly becoming very irritated.
"So that's where..." the man's voice grew quiet and his hand stretched out as if he were about to touch Harry's scar.
Harry jerked back, glaring at the weird old man, sharply. "I don't much like to be touched," he said in clipped tones while giving the man a withering stare.
"Ah, my apologies. Perfectly understandable," he said, standing up straight. "I'm sorry to say that I sold the wand that did it. Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand. Very powerful. But in the wrong hands..." he shuddered a bit and sighed. "Well, if I'd known what that wand was going to go out into the world to do..." he shook his head.
A moment later Ollivander appeared to have suddenly noticed Hagrid's presence in the shop – which Harry found a bit hard to believe because it was damn near impossible to not notice Hagrid under any circumstances.
Ollivander went on to perfectly describe Hagrid's wand, only to then make note that it had been snapped. Hagrid – the big oaf that he was – mentioned that he'd kept the pieces of said wand, and Ollivander then gave him a rather reprimanding glare while curtly to confirm that Hagrid didn't use them, to which Hagrid quickly insisted that he did not. Harry smirked slightly as he noticed Hagrid shuffling a bit with his atrocious pink umbrella.
"Well now, Mr. Potter. Let's see..." Ollivander began as he refocused on Harry.
He asked Harry which was his wand arm, to which Harry extended his right. Ollivander's magical tape measure jumped to life and began measuring every inch of Harry's body while Ollivander went on to describe what types of wood and wand cores he used and how no two wands were alike.
He went around the room and began collecting boxes off of the shelves and finally came back with a fairly decent sized pile that he set down on the counter. He picked up one of the boxes, opened it up and presented it to Harry.
"Go ahead. Give it a wave," he said in an excited encouraging voice.
Harry looked at the wand with a growing sense of trepidation, truly unsure how this day was going to play out. He gave a small sigh and reached out his hand. Before he'd even grasped it, Ollivander had snatched it away and muttered quietly as he grabbed a different box.
Harry wanted to scowl at the man, but kept his face passive.
This continued on for far too long, as far as Harry was concerned. Ollivander did actually let him wave some of the wands, but most he just snatched away before Harry even got a chance.
As Harry's impatience grew, Ollivander's excitement rose.
"Tricky customer eh? No matter, we'll find the proper match here somewhere..."
More and more wands were tried out but nothing really connected with Harry quite right. He felt a couple that he probably would have been able to use just fine, but Ollivander had snatched them away too. He had been in the shop for just about an hour when Hagrid stood from the chair and stretched his back, having to duck a bit to avoid bumping his head into a shelf.
"Er, 'arry? Ye mind if I kip off fer a minute? I was just goin' ta grab a few supplies from a stop across the way." Hagrid asked, looking a bit apologetic.
"Oh, no, that's fine Hagrid. No need for you to sit here through all this."
"Yeah, well, I'll be just across the street if ya get done soon."
Hagrid ducked his head and made his way out of the stop and was quickly swallowed up by the crowd of people in the street.
Harry turned back and was actually startled a bit to see Ollivander piercing him those strange misty silver eyes, rather sharply.
"Tell me, Mr. Potter – how long have you had a wand?"
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Harry replied easily without missing a beat, despite his mild surprise.
"Oh, I'm sure you do. You mustn't worry lad. I don't hold well with the Ministry's stance on underaged magic use. If I thought it were a battle I had any chance of winning, I would fight tooth and nail against that ridiculous trace they put on my wands."
Harry continued to level Ollivander with a neutral expression while he debated his next words.
"Pardon my curiosity, Mr. Ollivander, but what exactly is it that makes you think I already have a wand?"
"There are a number of clues. You hold a wand with the experience of one who has handled it for many years. You know how to control your magic as it courses through a wand, even if that wand has not chosen you. You also have one tucked beneath your shirt at the base of your spine."
Harry's brows rose minutely into his forehead, but he realized that he really shouldn't be surprised. He could see the magical signature of a wand, even if it were tucked underneath clothing, and Ollivander could clearly See something in the way a young wizard's magic reacting with the core of his wands.
"If you've known I was carrying a wand with me all this time, why did you allow me to go through all this bother?"
"I did not yet know for sure if that wand had chosen you as it's master. There was still a chance that one of my wands would choose you instead. But I see now that is not going to happen. You are already master of a perfectly good wand, and all of my wands can see that clearly."
Harry blinked at the man, maintaining an otherwise blank face. "Okay..." he said slowly, feeling more and more curious about this man by the minute.
"I wonder if you would let me see it?"
"See what?"
"Your wand."
"Oh... No. I don't think so."
"You don't?"
"No. That's quite all right."
"Is it because it is one of mine?"
"What makes you say that?"
"I would recognize one of my own creations anywhere, even if I cannot fully see it."
Harry tilted his head slightly to the side as he observed the strange old wizard with curiosity. "If you were to discover anything strange about my wand, would you tell anyone?" Harry asked cautiously.
"No."
"No? Just no?"
"Why would I? It is not my business. I do not chose sides, Mr. Potter. I simply craft wands."
"Yes, but what if you could go back and undo selling that wand to the Dark Lord? You yourself said mear minutes ago 'if I'd known what that wand was going to go out into the world to do' – Well, what would you have done? Would you undoing selling him the wand? Do you honestly think that would have even made a difference?"
"Ah, that is the question, isn't it? Would it have even made a difference... I honestly think not. Had he not gotten his wand from me, he would have gotten one from somewhere else. To answer your question, I would not undo it. As horrible as the things were that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did were, they were also great. Terrible. But great. To have one of my creations in the hands of one of the most powerful wizards to walk the world..."
Harry nodded his head slowly. "If I showed you my wand, would you answer me a question or two?"
"A question about what?"
"What are you? What sort of Sight is it that you use to see the magic of your wands?"
"Ah... quite interesting questions you have. It is a sign of your perceptiveness that you would even think to ask them."
"Will you answer them?"
"I suppose I can play to your curiosity if you will play to mine. I am three-quarters human wizard, however my maternal grandmother was a Dryad."
"Tree nymph," Harry said. "In additional to having a strong natural connection with base natural magics, and supernaturally long-lives, they are said to have divining powers and the ability to see the magical energy in most natural materials." Harry gave an impressed little nod. "Quite impressive lineage."
"Thank you. You are quite knowledgeable."
"I try."
"So do I get to see your wand?"
"Do you swear to speak of it with no one else?" Harry said giving the man a cautious but pointed glare.
"I swear it. Had I felt inclined to simply tell others about you having a wand I would have mentioned it in front of Hagrid."
Harry gave a little jerk of his shoulders in acknowledgement of the man's point. He reached up under his shirt and pulled the wand out from the waistband of his pants. His wand hummed warmly in his hand, as it always did. Perfectly matched with him and happy to have chosen him all those many years ago.
Harry presented the wand and Ollivander delicately picked it up. His eyes widened as he recognized the wand.
"Where did you get this?" he whispered as his fingers delicately danced over the wood, reverently.
"Does it really matter? The previous owner died. It chose me."
"This wand has only ever had one master..." Ollivander spoke, his voice still barely above a whisper.
Harry's eyes narrowed. "You see peculiar things, Mr. Ollivander."
"Oh, I wouldn't argue with that, dear boy." Ollivander conceded as he gently returned the wand to Harry. "I must say, Mr. Potter... it is most curious..."
"What is?"
"That this wand would chose you when it was it's brother in cores that gave you that scar..."
"Magic works in mysterious ways," Harry commented lightly, but there was a warning in his tone.
Ollivander's strange unblinking eyes remained locked on Harry as he nodded his head slowly. "Yes... mysterious..."
–
Harry was glad to have left Ollivander's shop shortly after that and made his way to the store opposite the street to find Hagrid. The man was not hard to find, given his massive size, and finally Harry was able to leave the alley for the day.
Hagrid escorted him back to the Dursley's on the Knight Bus and dropped him off at Magnolia Crescent, just at the turn-off to Privet Drive. Harry bid the giant oaf a farewell and waited until the Knight Bus had banged away before heaving an exhausted sigh and crouching down next to the owl cage and opening the door.
"Hello pretty girl," Harry cooed as he let his hand brush over the snowy owl's head. "I'm about to apparate, and I doubt very much that you would enjoy the experience so I'm going to let you fly there instead, alright?"
The owl snapped it's beak lightly and turned it's head a bit in response.
"Alright, now I need you to fly to Godric's Hollow, think you can do that?"
The owl made a high pitched sort of call that Harry took as an affirmative. "Good. You should be able to find me from there, right?" Another hoot of confirmation was all Harry needed to move out of the way and allow the owl to take flight. With the bird well on her way, Harry grabbed a tight hold on the handle of his trunk and on the bird cage and apparated to his family home, desperately relieved to be done with the Dursley's for what would likely be a great, long, while. Although he would have to drop by there briefly later to pick up the few books he'd left in his room. Nothing he couldn't do later. Right now – he was exhausted and wanted to take a nap.
– –