It was the conclusion of the first week of July when the goblins finally completed their work on the saber, and by the next morning, Harry had already picked it up. The blade, crafted from a long fang, was adorned with golden runes, ensuring its strength and sharpness. The hilt and sheath were fashioned from a dark, rich wood, embellished with decorative gold and silver accents. In every way, this saber was as stunning as it was lethal—a worthy investment indeed.
The morning after acquiring his saber, Harry donned his finest robes, noting in passing that he would soon need a new wardrobe due to his considerable growth—likely thanks to the phoenix tears that not only cured him of basilisk venom but also repaired the damage done by his upbringing with the Dursleys. Eager to make an impression, he fastened the saber to his belt. This time, he would show his relatives just how far he had come without their interference.
Once he felt ready, he apparated to a shadowy corner near Privet Drive. Although he was no longer constrained by underage magic laws, the Statute of Secrecy still loomed. Stepping into the neighborhood of his childhood, Harry attempted to exude an air of aristocratic confidence as he approached his family's home. Along the way, he noticed several girls casting curious glances in his direction, intrigued not just by his unusual attire or the sword at his side, but by him as a whole. Dismissing their interest, he made his way to number four.
After knocking on the door, he waited for a response. Given that it was Saturday, he assumed the entire Dursley family would be at home. To his dismay, he could hear the unmistakable barking of Aunt Marge's dog from inside. He shrugged; she too needed to witness his transformation and understand that he was not the same boy they had portrayed. Finally, the door swung open, revealing his uncle, who stared at Harry for a few seconds.
"We don't know where the boy is, and we don't want any of your freakishness tainting our house. Get lost!" he blustered, trying to slam the door shut. Harry quickly wedged his foot in the way.
"Oh, how deeply hurt I am that you don't recognize me, dear uncle," he replied, every word laced with disdain. "But I'm here to collect the last of my belongings. After today, we will never see each other again." After a moment of consideration, Vernon finally recognized his nephew. He reluctantly swung the door open wider.
"Get inside, take your things, freak, and then get lost." With a mocking bow, Harry stepped through the doorway and headed directly to the small bedroom that had been his during his last year under the Dursleys' roof. As he gathered his few remaining possessions, he could hear his relatives squabbling downstairs, undoubtedly about him. Once he had collected everything that belonged to him, he ventured back downstairs to find all three Dursleys waiting by the door.
"So, boy, is it true that we won't have you in our house anymore?" Vernon questioned, locking eyes with Harry. The young wizard remained unfazed under his uncle's fierce gaze.
"Unless a small army is summoned to keep me here, I won't return to your... generous home." Aunt Marge shot a sideways glance at her brother.
"Are you sure we should just let him go? Just look at those freakish clothes. As if someone like him could afford them. He must have stolen them! And that sword—he's bound to be trouble! Put him down and save good, honest folks money!" Harry turned his attention to her.
"All this is a... compensation for losing an eye in a battle against a beast that invaded my... school." He noticed Petunia's eyes widen briefly before a flicker of emotion crossed her face—was it empathy? Perhaps she didn't fully loathe him after all. "Now, if there's nothing further, I'd like to take my leave. I'm certain you want me out of your lives just as much as I wish to be out of yours." Without waiting for their reply, he walked out of the house. "I hope we never meet again," he added, his last words echoing as he vanished from their sight.
~/ *** \~
On the final Sunday of July, a small delegation from the Ministry of Magic, led by Cornelius Fudge, along with a reporter from the *Daily Prophet*, made their way to a house known as the Burrow, home of the Weasley family. By late morning, the house's inhabitants were awake; Arthur Weasley was in his workshop, while his twin sons were busy degnoming the garden. As the guests passed through the protective wards, Arthur sensed their presence but was astonished that such important figures had visited his humble abode.
"Good morning! How can I assist you, Minister?" Arthur inquired. Fudge beamed at him.
"Oh, nothing much, Arthur. Please gather your family. I have some wonderful news to share, and I want everyone to be present." Arthur nodded and summoned his family to join him outside, though his two eldest sons, Bill and Charlie, were absent—Bill was on a mission in Egypt for Gringotts, and Charlie was working at the Dragon Reserve in Romania. Once the family had assembled, Cornelius continued, "As you know, this summer the Ministry conducted a lottery for its employees." Arthur nodded, having entered the lottery himself. "Yesterday evening, you, Arthur, were chosen as the winner. Congratulations!" Fudge exclaimed, shaking the astounded man's hand. After the Minister stepped back, one of his aides presented Arthur with a large bag brimming with a thousand galleons.
"Now, let's capture a photo of our winner!" the reporter from the *Daily Prophet* exclaimed, camera ready. Understanding what was needed, Fudge stepped forward to pose with Arthur, their hands clasped. At that moment, a rat hidden in Ron's pocket poked its head out, curious about the commotion. It caught the flash of the camera before swiftly retreating back into the safety of the pocket.
"I believe my part here is complete," Fudge announced, addressing the reporter. "But I'm sure you'll want to interview Arthur." The reporter nodded in agreement.
"Of course! Our readers will be eager to hear the winner's plans for his prize." Fudge nodded, taking his leave along with his entourage, ensuring they were far enough away not to disrupt the interview.
Now facing Arthur, the reporter began, "Mr. Weasley, do you have any specific plans on how to spend the money you've won?" Arthur pondered for a moment before answering.
"As you are aware, my family faced a tragedy this year when my youngest daughter was admitted to St. Mungo's due to a nasty curse." He continued, "Although a kind individual covered her expenses, I believe that these galleons should be used to ensure the safety and well-being of my family." Arthur expressed his sentiments, emphasizing that family was the most important thing to him. The reporter smiled, recognizing the rarity of such altruism in today's world; most would have squandered such a windfall on themselves. Arthur Weasley would serve as a reminder of the true meaning of family in his upcoming article.
"Thank you," the reporter said, continuing his questions as the interview unfolded.
~/ *** \~
On July 27, Harry received his Hogwarts letter, including a list of required books for his third year. Not one to waste time, he gathered his trunk and apparated to London for a shopping trip. After withdrawing galleons from his vault at Gringotts and converting some into British pounds for muggle clothing and other items not available in the wizarding world, the young Potter-Slytherin set out.
His first destination was Madam Malkin's, where he ordered a new set of school robes alongside some casual outfits. While he preferred muggle attire, he understood there would be times when robes would be necessary. Madam Malkin promised to send the completed garments by owl. From there, he ventured to an apothecary to restock potion supplies and procure additional vials for the upcoming school year.
As he exited the apothecary, he caught sight of a familiar blonde witch, accompanied by her family on their shopping trip. Seeing her don the wristbands he had sent for her birthday brought a smile to his face. As the Malfoys entered Gringotts, Harry continued his shopping, planning to say hello to Draconica later that day.
Next, he headed to Flourish and Blotts. Upon peering through the shop window, he was surprised to see a large iron cage containing a hundred copies of *The Monster Book of Monsters*. Pages flapped wildly as the books tussled with one another, snapping aggressively.
Harry checked his booklist and noted that *The Monster Book of Monsters* was mandated for Care of Magical Creatures. This revelation made him rethink signing up for that course. However, if he wanted to pursue healing, he needed a few N.E.W.T.s. Resigned, he stepped inside and purchased all the required books, including the troublesome tome, much to the chagrin of the shopkeeper. He also picked up advanced texts on Defense Against the Dark Arts—a lesson he had learned well—and some additional books on Ancient Runes. He procured a rare Herbology book for Neville and a charmed notebook with a red dragonhide cover for Hermione. However, as for gifts for Daphne and Tracey, he was still brainstorming ideas.
His next stop was Magical Menagerie, where he bought owl treats for Hedwig and provisions for a new pet that had hatched a couple of days ago. Harry aimed to nurture it until it was strong enough to fend for itself against the beasts lurking in the Forbidden Forest and the creature accessible via the Chamber of Secrets.
At his final stop in Diagon Alley, he visited a shop specializing in parchments and writing tools. Although he didn't require new quills or inks thanks to his enchanted muggle pen, he still needed high-quality parchment for his writing. He also picked up a few interesting items. As he exited, he spotted Draconica once more. This time, they exchanged nods of greeting before parting ways. Harry made his way to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch before venturing into the muggle world for additional shopping.
As it turned out, a thirteen-year-old boy—though Harry appeared closer to fourteen—sporting a scar across his right eye and an eye patch attracted a considerable amount of attention from passersby in London, more than he was comfortable with. Regardless, he pressed on, completing his shopping as swiftly as possible. He managed to acquire several casual outfits and training gear—after all, being fit could enhance his endurance in a magical duel. According to Salazar's journals, magic was intricately linked to the physical form; the better the body, the more potent the magic.
~/ *** \~
On July 29, it was the Weasleys' turn for school shopping. With Ginny at St. Mungo's and unable to leave for several months, acquiring supplies for her was impractical. Nevertheless, Molly purchased some books on magical theory so that their only daughter wouldn't fall behind once she was allowed to resume her schooling.
The other children needed a full set of books, potion ingredients, new robes, and a plethora of quills and parchment. Ron specifically required a new wand, as his had been utterly destroyed at the end of the last school year. Fortunately, with Arthur's winnings and the fifty galleons sent to Ron, they had enough funds for everything—no second-hand items necessary, much to the delight of all the children, even Percy, who tried to maintain his usual stoic demeanor.
After gathering all other necessities and sending three of her older sons back to the Burrow via the public floo at the Leaky Cauldron, Molly accompanied Ron to Ollivander's wand shop. After warmly greeting the red-haired woman and recalling her own wand, the elderly wandmaker turned his attention to Ron.
"Unfortunately, I don't remember you ever visiting my shop, Mr. Weasley." Molly nodded.
"My youngest has been using a wand from one of his older brothers." She added reassuringly, "Don't worry, it was a good match... But this wand broke in the spring." Ollivander frowned in response.
"That's unfortunate... But fret not, young man; there's a perfect wand for you somewhere in this shop. You're right-handed, I presume?" He summoned his measuring tools in preparation. Ron nodded. After taking extensive measurements of the young lad, Ollivander began presenting wands for Ron to try.
"How about this one? Willow and unicorn tail hair, fourteen inches." The wand emitted red sparks but didn't produce the best results. "No, not this one. Let's try—" And so Ron experimented with numerous wands, one after another. After eight attempts, it seemed a suitable match was proving to be elusive. However, Ollivander's gaze landed on a specific wand on the shelf. "Why not?" he murmured to himself, retrieving it. "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches." To everyone's astonishment, this wand produced the best results yet. "It appears we've found your match, Mr. Weasley," Ollivander announced, before addressing Molly. "That will be seven galleons."
Once the Weasleys left his shop, the old wandmaker moved to his cabinet. He needed to draft a letter to Dumbledore, having promised to inform the headmaster when that wand would be sold.
~/ *** \~
A couple of days later, it was Harry's birthday, and he eagerly delved into the gifts his friends had sent him. Neville had sent rare herbal extracts, while Hermione gifted him books on the latest advancements in muggle medicine. Collectively, Daphne, Tracey, and Susan gifted him a hefty tome chronicling the history of magical law from before Merlin to the present day. The Gryffindor Flying Foxes, otherwise known as the chaser trio, had sent a beautifully decorated box with a runic puzzle lock and a group photo of themselves in skimpy bikinis, likely taken on a beach in Greece. Oliver had given him a pair of new enchanted seeker gloves designed for durability. The rest of Harry's friends, primarily from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, sent him an assortment of sweets.
However, one gift stood out above the rest. Draconica had sent him a silver pocket watch engraved with the Potter coat of arms on the front lid. Harry recognized the significance immediately: by giving him this watch, Draconica was acknowledging him as an adult.