Chapter Summary: His father's not talking to him, which is better than being thrown into a bonfire he guessed. So Arthur's a wizard now, with a wand and robes and everything. But why is his acceptance letter so different from everyone else, gaining not only the attention of all of the teachers, but even the Ministry? He's barely gotten his head around the idea of having magic when another mystery rears its ugly head. Why if he's eleven, is he being sorting in with the seventh years?
Someone noticed! Someone noticed and reviewed about it, and oh my gosh I was so happy when I saw the guest comment that I squealed! Yes, it wasn't a typo- Arthur Evans (Pendragon) is going to be sorted into the Seventh year. Why, how, what does this mean in the long run of the story? Mwhahaha! You'll have to read to figure that out!
Disclaimer: Again, sorry for any spelling errors. I'll fix them as soon as I can!
UPDATE PEOPLE! THIS IS IMPORTANT!
I got a review, a very specific review that made me freeze and pale in horror. I looked back at this story, than at one I read a while ago and was heavily influenced by and, to my dismay, I'm copied it. Word. For. God damn. Word. You might not believe me, and by all means good on you- people who steal other peoples works are horrible people. But, you see, I'm on thirty nine pills a day right now. I have a serious medical problem that is dealt with- A VERY VERY VERY big problem that puts me on a lot of medication, where I can forget where I've been, who I am at times, but I can describe somethings in minute detail by memory on others- my brains a little screwed up. But what really matters is mostly because of a very specific medication I'm on- I can copy things. And to my horror, the review said I was doing just that.
With my story.
(Slams head on desk)
To Old Memories, New Truths, and Destiny
Chapter 2- To Endless Mysteries
"This was sent out? There must be some sort of mistake." Minerva McGonagall slapped the parchment onto her desk, pulling off her spectacles in sheer disbelief. "What sense is this?"
"Magic can sometimes be the greatest mystery my dear." Dumbledore sighed as he gave her a penetrating stare, his eyes far from the idle mind some proclaimed he had gained in his old age as the woman sat up straighter in her chair. Snape had a permanent sneer twisting his features as he kept his head tilted back, a bag of ice pressed against his swollen eye and Albus hummed under his breath, bringing his cup of tea to his lips to sip gingerly.
Minerva sputtered as both men seemed perfectly content with the outcome of the parchment, the letter sitting accusingly on top the others, seemingly innocent as she pinched the bridge of her nose, clenching her jaw before exhaling slowly.
"This will just set the poor boy up for failure, you cannot be serious." She tried to get him to see reason with her eyes alone, imploring him to change his mind. "He is from a family of Muggles, he doesn't even know the basics of our culture let alone Newt level material. He will fail Albus." Dumbledore simple tilted his chin, let his glasses slid down his nose as Snape scoffed, before pointing upwards in a random direction.
"Hogwarts has spoken." his eyes were twinkling again even as his voice took on a clearer tone, that fitting someone of his position in the school. "The boy will join both years, and at the ending of class he will both graduate as an adult and return for his second."
Snape jerked his head forward as both professors stared at him like he'd grown a second head, the room falling into a stunned silence. Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, not bothering to wait for his coworkers to catch up as he chuckled under his breath. And for a moment there was a silence so profound, that he coughed just to make sure he hadn't actually gone deaf.
"That," Severus said after blinking a few times, his bleak eyes boring into the headmaster as his lip curled, "The absolute level of stupidity is confounding."
"But," she was also at a complete loss, "How? Why?"
"Ah, yes." The smile on his lips and the twinkle in his eyes made a few of the portraits around the room giggle, and he too thought over the seemingly ordinary boy, Mr. Arthur Evans. Such was the way of Muggleborns, of course. No one could be sure how they would fit into the wizardly world until they actually arrived. And what a mystery the boy was turning out to be. He hadn't even become a student yet and he was already creating quite an uproar within the halls. Hopefully, he wouldn't get lost in the upcoming year with their other resident celebrity.
"Now those are the answers I would like as well."
It had taken Arthur almost half a year to realize that his dreams weren't going away, to come to terms with them, and after watching his apparent death and the war on magic he visited every library he could to find and scoured for information. Once he discovered the ancient stories of King Arthur and Merlin- whom acted nothing like the one he knew- he was, well, he knew something wasn't right.
And now, now this. Until he figured it out, figured out how he had magic, figured out what was wrong with his head or whatever the hell it was, he wasn't going to utter a word of it to anyone. Arthur was only sure of two things, and both were most likely related. Whomever Merlin, his Merlin was needed to be figured out- and in result everything else would come into play after. All these moments about his father decimated the magical users, of the balance of magic in the world somehow being wrong, and the only way the world could right itself was by placing all of that magic into one human, into Merlin- he would figure it out if he could just find out the truth, find Merlin.
His idiotic, scrawny, can't walk without falling over and almost dying sorcerer in hiding, Merlin. But was he the same from the books, the same from his nights?
Between the fistfight his father clearly traded with his new professor, to the old warlock that had been sitting in his living room a mere night ago, he didn't get a wink of sleep. Combined with the weary glances he kept giving his locked bedroom Arthur was actually a little nervous. Not that he would ever admit that out loud. He would be ready to go when the teacher arrived again but he was fairly certain he wouldn't enjoy the experience. After tossing and turning he finally sat on the side of the bed, instead clenching the acceptance letter between his itching fingers as he read each word, analyzing it for the slightly details. He was looking for even the smallest notions of what might come next.
'Please find a list enclosed of all necessary books and equipment. Due to your unusual circumstances and situation, you will be required to be sorted with the first years upon arrival at Hogwarts, and you shall begin in both first and seventh year.'
He still couldn't understand that part. The instructions were tucked away in the middle so inconspicuously that he could almost ignore it. What unusual situation could make him jump and take two years at the same time? And the list. There were twice as many books than there would be if he was just a simple first year student! Some course books were repeated twice in different edition as his curriculum was literally tripled in length, there were even extra required materials that he'd never even heard of. The Professor said that he would be coming later tomorrow- or was it today now?- to take him to get his school supplies.
He would be taking classes with upperclassmen as well as trying not to get cursed or turned into a frog by magical children. Arthur glanced at the time, groaned and thumped his head back against the pillows. After a moment, he drew a deep breath and let it out. Great, wonderful.
So he didn't fall asleep, it wasn't like he missed much.
Clearly his brain had been infected, going by the warm feeling of anticipation spreading in his gut.
Arthur rubbed his eyes raw before emerging from his room, quietly closing the door behind him so not to disturb the house, his father already in his study. Whether he was truly a king who could kill or not, he wasn't going to mind his son avoiding him like the plague. Arthur had decided to take a long berth from his father, though not ideal, it was the best option, a bit to spur discipline to the less genocidal tendencies of his sire. It was just the thing the man approved of ordinarily, when they had an argument in the past it was him that cracked first, but instead of wavering like normal eleven year olds did, Arthur would keep it up until he was gone for the ten months school. And after last night- the uncharacteristically long hesitation Uther had shown after the sorcerers left, there didn't seem much of an alternative. He had just stared at him for the longest time before walking away, neither speaking nor blinking and for just a minute, Arthur really thought he was going to end up a missing persons where no one found the body. Or disowned at least.
He made his way to the kitchen, the sun rising and he cringed, running a had through his hair. The Professor would be here at seven sharp and Arthur had obviously lost his mind, giving a mulish look which suggested he wasn't interested in finding it again either as he started putting together his breakfast. He didn't cook, the maids were off for the weekend, so he instead just slapped some slices of bread together with jam. Watching the clock like a hawk he turned on the television to drown out the silence, reading himself for when the professor arrived as he washed up a little and put his things together, throwing his bag over his shoulder. And he only had to wait another thirty minutes before there was a loud knock on the front door.
Professor Snape was wearing the same dress robes and the yellowish bruise across his right pitiless black eye was really doing wonders for his complexion. He stood stiffly on the other side of the door, shooting him a glance Arthur managed not to recoil at, the look of utter loathing directed at him as he stepped aside to let the man into the front room. Okay, so he didn't like him – or perhaps he was just a terrible cross person to begin with. He was going to go with the latter, he'd seem like the type that would kneel over dead if he tried to crack a smile once.
"I see that you are adequate to leave. I take it that Mr. Evans will not be," Snape paused, his lip curling, "coming with."
Snape gave him a hard look and Arthur swallowed. His father was just in the other room right now, working at his desk; he could hear their conversation perfectly most likely-
The Professor nodded as if Arthur had actually said something in answer. "Then we will be spending most the morning and afternoon getting your materials, and begin to consider the consequences of your actions yourself. Mischief is not tolerated on this trip, do I make myself clear?"
"Yes," Arthur said, disparately, and tried to make it look as though he was just an angel by putting his hands behind his back as the professor glared at him. "Perfectly." Like that's ever stopped me before. I've had better arguments from servants. And as he tried to give him a disarming shrug, he quickly adding on a nod and a Sir for good measure.
He would never know if the man had even heard him as he turned away and started walking. Arthur followed him, unable to keep himself from staring as he pulled his wand from his side when they reached the crossroad, stopping impatiently for the shorter boy to catch up.
He stopped, looking at the tiny grungy pub, and any recent concerns he had about a militarized wizards country full of evil magical users vanished, making him feel rather silly.
He glanced toward Snape. "I thought you said Diagon Alley?" He asked confused.
Snape's lip curled again, like Arthur was asking an obvious question, wasting his valuable time. "Just follow," he said icily as he led the way into the pub even as he looked up at the wizard like he had lost his mind.
"Professor, are you, are we at the right place? I honestly think we will get mugged if we go in there."
"Do not interrupt me with mundane observations," Snape bit sharply. Arthur clamped his lips together, recognizing the signs of a man loosing his patience. And, though Snape didn't have any knifes or swords to heave at him, he did have a wand.
It was dark inside and the old building somehow filled Arthur's nostrils with the familiar scent of ale and beer, polished wood and musky wines. Each table seemed slightly off, the walls were a bit too close and there were hanging beams and old rugs hanging about as if the balance had been measured and then carefully ignored. Though the wood had a different scent here, as he glanced around at the patrons he cringed; the images of here and now blurring together with familiar scenes from another time, reminding him a little of the tavern back at Camelot, or, more correctly back in his dreams. One witch was smoking a pipe and a few men tossed back drinks at their tables, the bartender merely nodding as they passed, but then when they past the exit and entered the trashy courtyard, something made Arthur stop dead.
He could feel it. Instantly, his attention was drawn to a buzz of magical activity all but rolling off the wall, the bricks squirming with jittery nerves.
Arthur blanched. He could feel magic.
"I admit that it is not the most aesthetic entrance to the Alley," Snape gave him a hard look, pointedly analyzing him from head to toe before taking out his wand again and tapping a few bricks on the wall. "But perhaps you will agree that appearances can be deceiving?"
Arthur watched, his scratchy response cut short on the tip of his tongue as brick and mortar moved out of their way, smoothly folding into their neighbors until they became a doorway. He stared as the wave of energy hit him, and had he not caught himself he might have ended up smacked on his arse as his legs swayed slightly. A concentration of magic far greater than he had ever felt before even on the edge of the lake passed around him, making his fingers tingle slightly. It reminded him of something, of someone, but intensified as a quaint brick archway formed. But more importantly, as the magical shopping district came into view.
Shops with glass windows stretched down the street, with items both inside and out stacked for easy viewing. Cauldrons, strange animal parts, books and what looked like a hat shop, one store even had different types of brooms in the window. And the people, so many different wizards, witches, and enchantments were all in the same place hurrying around like they were straight out of the medieval age with gowns and flowing robes.
Arthur opened his mouth three times, stared, and when he felt a hand close on his shoulder squeezing tightly he took a tentative step forward.
"Welcome to Diagon Ally." Snape spoke dryly, waving off in a random direction as he steered the boy forward, as if witnessing this was somehow an everyday thing. Arthur may or may not have made a few unusually high squeaking sounds as Severus continued to gesture down the street.
"Mr. Evans, stop gawking and use your legs. You'll have plenty of time to observe the wonders of the magical community after we get your allowance." From the way that Snape spoke, Arthur was fairly certain he still didn't like him. "We will be heading to Gringotts first."
"The, er- the what?" Arthur said, blankly as they passed a store completely full of owls of all things. He followed behind, nearly having to brake into a run as he tried to catch up with the professor who was leaving him in the dust. It was lucky that the frigid man still had a slight limp from yesterday or he might have been lost the moment he stepped into the busily morning crowd. The man still stood out the way he did, a head taller than everyone else and possessing a certain ominous dreadful aura that made others think twice before knocking into him, but the eleven year old wasn't so lucky.
Arthur looked around grudgingly as he took another elbow to the side, "What's Gringotts." He frowned, taking a better grip of his bag. "Is that a place?"
"A bank." and here Snape's lip curled, his tone turning icy, "Keep in mind to be polite. I have no desire to repeat the appalling experience of your families ability to make enemies at first glance." Arthur narrowed his eyes a fraction as he clenched his hands behind his back, before settling on glaring at the back of the mans head instead of gracing him with a few comments of his own.
"Yes, of course sir," he said dryly. "I will keep that to myself."
Arthur decidedly said very little on the walk to Gringotts. He was still silently fuming, but knew better than to push his luck. He wasn't an adult in this situation – no matter what his mind deduced, and Snape was nothing like his court sorcerer. With his manservant, they'd had this tacit agreement that somehow banter worked even through different social statues. He supposed that everyone had their limits and this wizard had no reason to show him the slightest ounce of respect.
Not that it didn't make him grind his teeth any less.
He led him to a bright white building that seemed to stand securely over its neighbors. The building was oddly crooked as well, as though built by someone who'd only had a vague idea of what straight lines were. The marbled stone made him uneasy, and Arthur caught sight of a plaque on the wall as they passed it, the strong bronze doors held open and guarded. Arthur looked out into the bank, at the beautiful office space with ornate antique desks and lines of patrons, and as they continued forward they walked to the back of the line- he caught sight of the employees. He blinked, staring at the scene for a moment before whipping around to face Snape with a hiss.
"Goblins? You- Are those goblins?"
If looks could truly kill, Snape was trying to send him to the deepest pits of hell.
"Oh, I'm sorry." Arthur glared right back. "I didn't know goblins were a normal everyday occurrence now. Must have slipped your mind in mentioning it." he snapped.
Snape's scowl didn't ease as they walked further up, more goblins not even his height walking past unbeknownst to the heated discussion. "Creatures that are hoarders of gold tend to be the best at protecting it." His voice was in a deadly whisper, barely a glance spared toward one of the beings in question. "In fact, they have been here as long as wizardly place."
"Wonderful, Professor." Arthur whispered back, hiking his bag higher on his shoulder as they reached a teller. "I will keep that in mind."
Snape rolled his eyes and grabbed the back of his shirt, almost dragging him to the front desk. The professor really had no patience or love of children, did he?
They came to an open desk where a goblin with pointed ears and long skeletal fingers greeted them. When he smiled, Arthur saw needle like teeth and he could feel the now noticeable prickle of magic against his skin, an organic type of scrapping that made the hair on his arms stand up. The Goblin caught Arthur's eyes and gave a quick bow of his head and Arthur, caught off balance by it, automatically bowed back.
He stood a little taller as the Professor leaned forward into the teller window.
"Mr. Evans wishes to withdraw his quota from the Funds for Muggleborns account," Snape told the goblin in a tone of cool politeness and Arthur managed a very small polite smile as the goblin continued to glance unwaveringly at him. The dark skinned creature kept his eyes for a long moment, and he could see curiosity as well as something else reflected in its clear black eyes.
"I assume you have his card?" it, or he replied at last, turning back to Snape. The goblin's voice was graveled and rough, though oddly higher pitched than Arthur had expected.
"Indeed," Snape produced a shiny silver card from the pocket of his robes. It had elegant gold and black writing on the surface, but Arthur didn't see what it said before the professor placed it on the counter. "I also have this extra request from the Headmaster." Snape continued and he placed a large black folder on the desk.
The goblin glanced at the folder with a scowl before holding the card in his thin hands almost delicately, slowly raising a thin brow and he pursed his lips into a tight line. After a moment he nodded and slid the card back. "If you would follow Griphook, Professor, he will take your matters. I will see to the young sir."
From what Arthur could tell by the professor's expression, he was very surprised by that. It was only there for a split second, because the next moment he nodded, schooling his features and turned to Arthur. "Do not leave. Wait for me to return here in the lobby."
"Is it normal to leave children alone with goblins?" Arthur cleared his throat. "Or do you simply really, really dislike me?" he said.
Snape looked almost amused, as if he was surprised he had normal survival instincts in the first place. Maybe it was because he sounded so apprehensive about that prospect. "If you're envisioning a brutal creature, you'll be sadly disappointed. You've already shown your capability to understand tact, do continue to use it."
Both Arthur and the Goblin looked harshly at Severe, who missed it as he turned, walking away from the desk and through a corridor where another goblin was standing. In a moment, he had vanished from sight and Arthur was left alone in the lobby with the other employee. The Goblin coughed to catch the attention of a guard before turning back to Arthur with an almost polite nod. "I will bring you to a private room, there we will discuss the prospects of your investment before turning to the vault. Is that agreeable?" At the boys nod, he turned hailing down another Goblin before closing his til.
"Mr. Evans," the goblin said and Arthur turned with him. "This way, if you please." He took a deep breath and followed the goblin toward a hallway in the opposite direction. He couldn't help but notice that as they passed other goblins, every single one looked up curiously before giving the same measured bow as they walked past. He was starting to feel a familiar sense of crowd awareness, self-conscious as every eye seemed to be on him as he passed. Why were they giving him such an odd look, or was this normal behavior for their species?
Eventually they were situated in a smaller chamber, rich woods covering the walls and a thick carpet under them. The goblin, who called himself Nagnok, saluted the Goblin sitting at the only desk in the room before he silently left. Arthur did have a bit of a swallowing moment when he was beckoned forward by the much larger Goblin to sit at the chair, and he turned his head and raised a rather elegant eyebrow as Arthur wearily took it.
Arthur was surprised by the sheer size of this one, who grinned a mouth of teeth as he too bowed his head after a moment of silence.
"I am Shirknot." His eyes glinted as he looked at the boy, pausing to take him in like he was covered in gold before he all but purred, "Sire."
The room stilled under his words.
Arthur stayed seated, frozen in place as a frigid chill raced down his spine, seemingly chilling the air in his lungs. He held the sides of the cushion to the chair so tightly that it started digging into the flesh under his nails, and as the goblin's grin only grew wider Arthur's face grew more and more pale. Chuckling and leaning back into his chair Shirknot watched in amusement as Arthur tried to stay outwardly calm, sitting up straight. The sudden proper address tripled his heart rate, and he could feel his gut churning, a panicked nausea coming over him.
"I'm not—" he tried to say, but the goblin spoke over him.
"You bare the deeds of Emrys, Sire." Shirknot's hissed, excitement and intrigue within its viscous grin. "The mark of the owner to the Prince of Enchanters and Albion."
"The what?" Arthur could feel the weight on his throat as he swallowed, shaking his head absently as his eyes stayed intent on the beast. "Good god, no. I don't know what you're talking about-" he trailed off pointedly. He hoped that he sounded more convincing than he felt.
Shirknot nodded. "Indeed." The goblin cocked his head to the side, as though he were gazing at a puzzle that he desperately wanted to solve. "Yet you bear his name, Sire."
"What? It's a common name! There must be millions of people with the name Arthur!" he blurted, scooting toward the door after shooting to his feet, his hands cold as his legs prepared to run back into the lobby. The goblin knew- somehow knew about things he could barely wrap his own head around. He was ready to make a dash for it when Shirknot laughed.
"True indeed." The goblin didn't look convinced as he tilted his head to the side, analyzing him again. He appeared thoughtful for a moment, and then he started tapping his fingers against his desk in seemingly impatience. "Be not fearful of our kingdom, Emrys has the loyalty of all magic and we goblins are bound by the balance. You are his bearer, his Sire and in extension our Liege."
Arthur stopped dead, gaping at Shirknot in shock.
"I- that is-" He stopped very abruptly and, with the wisdom surpassing his age, sat back down.
"Those who go after which is protected by Emrys will also face the wrath of the goblins. If you were attacked, it would be our world that would reap the consequences of the Prince's ire. Remember this Sire, for when you need it, you will have our swords." The goblin bowed low this time before standing, a large ancient looking gold key held out in his hand. "No goblin will reveal you, Sire, and none will speak of your name. But do well to hide the belonging you will receive today from the view of all others, for we are not the only ones who know its linage."
Shirknot pressed a rune on his desk and said some words in a strange language, a black iron door suddenly appearing on the wall next to them in a flash of light. It looked ancient, a large solid lock in the middle and unknown ruins carved across the edges. Moments later the office door slammed opened behind him and two armed guards marched in, their armor polished and pristine as they took their spots on either side of the new door, standing proud.
Arthur watched carefully as Shirknot placed a sharp knife on the desk before sliding the key across the wood towards him, "Er," Arthur said, desperately, and tried to make it look as though he had kept up with everything that just happened. Clearing his throat he sat up straight, "All right, um Shirknot, what exactly am I receiving?"
He waved the question off. "Merely open your vault," he said. "though no; we will not discuss its contents even among our own employees, Sire."
"And, those would be—" Arthur said, nervously.
"To your vault," Shirknot said firmly, pointing a clawed hand at the key with a raised brow which meant that this was going to go only one way from now on.
He was silent for a moment, then he nodded and bowed in reply, retrieving both the knife and key from the desk. "I shall," he murmured. The panic had fled for a more guarded approach, the churning in his stomach calmed as he titled his head to the guards. There was a strange comfort in the words of the goblin, the same comfort he'd had when the he had a few seemingly nonsensical dreams. "May I ask a question?"
"Yes sire." Shirknot nodded, still having the look of intrigue to his viciousness.
"You say bearer, that I am the bearer to deeds of an Enchanter. Why?"
And the goblin grinned once more. "Because, you are the Once and Future King, my Liege."
Arthur stared.
"Now," The Goblin was starting to sound a bit impatient as Arthur remained silent in his seat. "On your will?" he pointed at the door as he finally went to his feet, his knees suspiciously shaky as Arthur approached the iron door. He looked down at the knife in his hands, carefully testing the weight and balance as he brought the key up to the lock, twisting it until he heard the loud pop of gears opening.
"So. It is a nice knife."
Shirknot seemed to have caught on as he nodded, "Sir Evans, the door requires a few drops of your blood against the lock. The stone will compare your blood to determine its fidelity and for any discrepancies." He saw his expression and quickly continued. "The knife is covered in carvings of runes, it cuts only enough to draw what is needed and heals as it goes. It's rather ancient, and is used for the oldest vaults we have. It is perfectly safe."
His blue, now blankly kept eyes still stared. "Well, what happens if there are... discrepancies?" He turned to the Goblin, who instead of answering held his long taloned hand out and with a clenched jaw, Arthur gave him both the blade and his own hand.
He watched stiffly, the hair on the back of his neck raising as the blade was carefully pressing against his palm until a set of red drops appeared, and then pressed against the iron. Pain he could handle, still this was- unpleasant to give someone his hand in such a manner. He could feel the metal under his palm soak the blood in, and suddenly his entire arm felt warm. Shirknot released him, and he could feel the skin start to knit back together as he slowly pulled his hand back, the sensation slightly itchy. Then a loud metallic crack rocked the door before it slowly creaked open, a cloud of dust pillowing out from underneath it. The gears screeched loudly as it opened inwards and he turned to look at Shirknot, silently asking for permission before pushing his hand against the door to open it fully. When the goblin nodded once more he took a breath and stepped inside.
It was dark, extremely so that Arthur had to squint as he took a few more careful steps. The Goblins stayed outside, not even peering in as he turned his head, trying to discern anything around him. He could see the outlines of shapes of what appeared to be shelves upon shelves of objects lining the entire room, which was as larger than he could have imagine. Cups, swords, paintings, armor, bookcases, trunks, books, scrolls and jewelry twinkled in the sliver of light provided by the door and though there was dust on the ground, none of it touched the possessions inside.
There was a loud chink as something collided with his shoe, and whatever it was was solid and heavy.
Unbelievable. No, impossible.
He bent down. There, ready for him to pick up and take, was his red cloak wrapped delicately around his sword.
Around Excalibur.
It hadn't changed a bit from how he saw it at night, like it hadn't spent any given time at the bottom of an enchanted lake. And even though it was too long and too heavy for him to even begin to use in the next coming years the blade's handle still somehow fit perfectly in his hand. The cloak was in pristine condition, a thousand years never touching it, the kept clothe glint deep red in the dim light and the crest of Camelot etched in gold thread. He stood and straightened once more, staring at it in wonder. He had thought he'd never see it again, that it was but a creation of his vivid imagination, or a hoax of a childish mind. And, he could tell just by holding it in his hand, all of Merlin's enchantments- the ones he'd gotten away with while Arthur hadn't known the idiot was a sorcerer- were just as powerful as the day his servant cast them.
This was proof of who he was. This was proof that Merlin was there, that he had truly saved him that day.
He trailed his fingers reverently over the fabric, around it as he existed the vault, bowing in thanks to the Goblins and emotions not entirely understandable all but overtook him. Arthur was frowning hard as he clenched his jaw, the skin of his face uncomfortably warm as he gripped the cloak within his hands tightly, close to his chest. "Thank you," he told the goblins.
"No thanks is needed, Sire. It is yours."
The goblin that led Severus back to the main lobby nodded in farewell, opening the door that lead back to the vaults without a word. He returned the nod, and quickly swept past him to stand by the entrance of the bank, in clear view. He had nothing against goblins, even if he didn't particularly enjoy their company – he was, however, more worried about what sort of shenanigans and down right trouble his newly made charge had gotten into during the last half hour left unsupervised.
Evans.
The name was a painful reminder of things left completely forgotten. It grated him the wrong way every time it rose in his mind, the feeling that he should try harder to smoother the sensation the next time. He had been curious at first, taking the case of the Muggleborn simply because of his closeness to the offspring of Potter, but blaming a boy because of a name was pathetic. He didn't even resemble her, nor did he remind any part of his memory of simpler times. No, Arthur Evans was nothing different or extraordinary other than in his school schedule.
Getting tripped up on a generic common name was ridiculously pitiful.
Snape looked up as the large door in the back, the ones used for important high profile clients snapped open, catching sight of the boy leaving the doors from the other side. He entered the lobby as though in a daze, starting to make his way over to him when something made him pause. The goblin that they'd first met was handing Evans a sack of gold – the funding, no doubt, that he quickly put into his bag on his back. The boy bowed – thank Merlin, it seemed he had some sort of manners underneath– but then, to Snape's astounded horror, the goblin bowed back. He quickly made his way towards the boy, watching the scene for several incredulous moments. A goblin bowing to a wizard wasn't unheard of. Though the act should have been filled with mockery, as goblin and wizard relations had always been strained. They wouldn't bow if they didn't have too, and certainly not to a goldless Muggleborn student.
What, exactly did the boy do in a half hour?
"Mr. Evans," Snape answered curtly, his voice seemingly snapping the boy the rest of the way out of the haze. He blinked up at him, as if he didn't notice him standing there before. "Did you perhaps force the goblins to bow in order to get rid of you?"
"What?" Arthur blinked, still flushed a little, "Of course not." He cleared his throat as he shifted his weight, the glimmer of something red poking through a portion of his unzipped bag. "I think they are rather polite- for the most part, actually." He was getting that tone again, one that was quite arrogant, was of someone a bit too old, and filled with social experience he shouldn't have at this age. "We seemed to get along just fine. And I thought this was how Goblins were anyways- with the bowing and all."
Snape's lip curled in a way Arthur was getting quite used to. "Clearly you are more versed in the ways of Creature Relations than I." He spoke dryly, surveying him as if he had committing a crime.
The Professor had a calculating expression on his face as Arthur considered muttering something inappropriate. From what Severus could gather just at the look of it, the goblins had taken the boy to a preexisting vault, clearly meaning the boy wasn't as Muggle based as they all had first thought. But Arthur stayed quiet as Snape surveyed him, and he clearly wasn't going to volunteer whatever information he had learned about himself with him. And, as etiquette demanded, Snape could not pry. It was probably nothing more than an old family heirloom from a dead line, anyway. Definitely not from a Pureblood family though– they kept meticulous track of their line purity far too greatly to let mixed blood gain any of their wealth.
"Then, I would rather we finish this outing before nightfall. Unless you have anymore business with goblins?"
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "No sir." There was the barest hint of mockery in his tone to match Snapes. "You know, just in case, you should go ahead and check to make sure everything is in order?"
Snape practically tried to set him on fire with his eyes alone, the look of contempt so great it was rather shocking. "Do not speak to me in such a tone," he whispered. "Unless you want to find yourself back at your residence and all your supplies delivered by mail and of the lowest quality."
That made Arthur snap his mouth shut, clamping his lips together so tight that he was probably the mirror image of his father at his worst. Clenching his fist to his sides as though he were fighting back a retort, Snape turned back to the entrance as Arthur gathered himself. As he stalked off he took a long deep, steadying breath digging his fingers into the strap of his bag. Only a little bit longer and then he'd be free of this wretched beady eyed man.
"Come, now." Snape snapped more aggressively as Arthur didn't immediately move, making his way out of the bank. Arthur scowled before walking beside him; looking somewhat like he would rather trip him the first opportunity he got than make it to the next destination.
After a moment Arthur started speaking again, trying to break the tense atmosphere as they again dodged through the crowds in the street. "So, the Goblins." Arthur trailed off, having the barest hint of a smile as he thought back to it and Snape shot him a look in the corner of his eyes, clearly wanting him to shut up. "Not so bad an idea after all. Apparently, I mean they aren't—"
"Yes, clearly. Because the wizardly world must obey your ideals of decorum. So pleased that it has so far passed your approval," Snape sneered, his words dripping with sarcasm. "Do we need you to approve the daily papers as well?"
Arthur turned up to look at him, the smile on his lips anything but friendly. "Sorry sir, I did not realize I needn't have an opinion in these matters."
Snape ground his teeth together, but thankfully didn't have to respond as "Ollivanders" wand creation store came into view, the stick painted on the window certainly wandish as he opened the door and pushed the boy in, stepping behind another group of shoppers. The group was in the middle of the entrance, and Arthur had to step aside as a little girl with bushy brown hair and normal everyday Muggle clothes almost bumped into him.
"Oh, terrible sorry!" She seemed overly excited about everything and anything before becoming apparently embarrassed, only now noticing him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it."
"It's fine." Arthur said. "A simple mistake." Then he offered his hand, giving her a polite nod as she quickly took it. "It's all still overwhelming, even for me. I'm Arthur Evans. I assume you from a non-magical family like me?"
It was like he had just offered the girl never ending loyalty, her smile almost splitting her face as she shook his hand enthusiastically. "Yes! I was so worried I would be the only one here who didn't know about magic until now and none of the wands or magical things would choose me, and that it would all turn out that this was a big mistake and I wouldn't be able to go to Hogwarts! Especially after it had taken so long to find everything, especially my wand with how many I had to go through, but finally I found one that felt right and it was warm to the touch and sparks went everywhere and it was all rather exciting! But I hope the shop will be alright because I accidentally caught fire to one of the shelves in the back, though I did say I was sorry. I'm Hermione Granger by the way It's very nice to meet you!"
"Er," Arthur said. "I may have missed a bit. Could you say half of that again, and breath this time?" He grinned at her as she awkwardly blushed, looking down and shuffling her feet. "I got out that you're name is miss Granger? Well, it's nice to meet you."
She smiled even as she continued to look down, "It's nice to meet you too." She gave him a shy wave before following her apparently bemused mother out the door, and he watched as the little witch duck out of sight as quickly as she could.
How in the world had he thought a child like that was the destruction of society itself at one point, he couldn't fathom it now.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Arthur."
Arthur spun quickly, the voice was far too close, only to see an old man sitting inches from his face right next to him on a stool. Snape was on the other side of the room, watching the elderly man in disinterest as he picked up a jar from the counter and turned the content, and the man grinned at him with wide pale blue eyes.
"Hello?" For a moment Arthur could think that he was blind, but the intensity of how he stared into his face made him throw that thought out. Forcing himself to calm down as the older man walked closer to the counter of the store, humming softly under his breath as he ruffled around things in the cabinets, it was obvious now that this was the store owner.
"Always so interesting, finding the one for a first generation." He seemed to fade back into his own memories. "Ah, when a child who only first learns about magic finds it for the first time, a complete mystery even to their own- it's quiet a beautiful thing. I remember a Surrey girl when she touched her wand fourteen years ago for the first moment, her eyes glowed like the ocean. It took thirteen tries, and she had bonded with a six and three quarter inch wand of holy oak. Long, swishy, but surprisingly coarse to the touch." He grinned as he continued. "Always a surprise though, took over forty tries once for just one first generation. He was quite annoyed by the end. But magic is as magic be."
Arthur stared up at him, before giving a small smile in return, pretending to understanding whatever the hell he was on about. "So, there is a wand for every person?"
Ollivander sighed dramatically and turned to the counter, picking up a tape measure covered in marker lines. "As long as there are babes born with magic, there will be wands forged. Every wand I craft uses a core of a powerful magical substance- freely given hairs of griffon and unicorns, phoenix tail feathers, and dragon heartstrings- therefore each owner of said wand holds that core as their responsibility, as an extension of themselves. Sadly, I sell wands that can great destruction as much as great creation. One man, he did such terrible things with one of my darlings, things of great magnitude, but terrible in nature."
He paused at that, turning to catch Arthur's eyes with an expression far too clear, that held too much sudden meanings for everyday conversation. Arthur stopped shifting in place as he narrowed his eyes, and Ollivander looked over the wands again before shaking his head, a small half-smile upon his face as he stepped forward to grip Arthur by the shoulder before he could protest.
"No two wands are alike, Mr. Evans, and you will never find the same magic in the world again once it is gone for good. The user and the wand grow, together." He grinned as he nodded to himself, holding out the tape measure towards Arthur. "Now, let's find you your new wizardly sword and armor. Which is your dominant arm?"
"My, my right?" Arthur said in a strangled voice, and Ollivander gave him one moment before he started to measure him from head to toe, shoulder to finger, wrist to nose, knuckle to ear, and other absure things. He notices Arthur's incredulous look as he raised an eyebrow, and he grinned back before retrieving three boxes.
"A rather special case you are, I rather start with the absurd and work our way back." he pulled out a long white wand, handing it over quickly. "A double core and double wood for starters. Well, give it a swish." Severus seemed to choke by the corner, his eyes going wide as he surveyed him for a moment, his black pitiless eyes trying to stare right through him. Arthur tried not to fidget or squirm, but it was very uncomfortable to be under the scope of such scrutiny while also giving this other man his full attention.
Arthur held the wand in his hand like he would the hilt of a blade, before flicking it to the side. The white polished wood seemed to rattle against his fingers before gallons upon gallons of strawberries suddenly started falling from the ceiling.
"What?" Arthur yelped, shielding his face from the assault as he tried to duck for cover.
"Evans!" Severus hissed, covering his face with his robes.
"What!? It's not me!"
"Ah." Ollivander remarks dryly, snatching the wand back as both Arthur and Professor Severus squawked and tried to hide behind furniture, covering their heads with whatever they could find as they were pelted by fruit. "No no no, not that one." he hummed as he grabbed a newspaper, covering the top of his face as Snape finally fled out the door, leaving the two to fend and wait it out.
The wand maker grabbed the longer deep grey wand and after another ten seconds the waterfall of strawberries tapered off. Quickly he thrust the wand right under Arthur's nose, the boy still looking up at the ceiling in horror. "Here. It's a single base, double core, nine and four corners."
"What? You want me to touch another one? " Arthur said horrifyingly, pointing at the now fruit covered floor that was halfway up his shoes. "Are you mad?!"
"It's debatable." He clearly thought about it in the past, seemingly sad. "I suppose the faster you get it done with, the quicker it will be over." And he held out the wand again, raising a brow.
Arthur stopped the vicious counterargument before it could pass his lips and, with grated teeth, grabbed the wand. Closing his eyes tight he quickly shook it like a rattle.
The sound of a large animal cry he had never heard before screamed through the shop, actually rattling the windows, and Arthur dropped the wand to cover his ear with a yelp.
"Hmm, the cry of an enraged Emu. A bird native to Australia." Ollivander mussed as he picked up the discarded wand, not the slightest bit bothered. "Strange. But I've heard worse."
"Well I haven't!" He snapped as he put his fingers in his ears, trying to rub away the ringing. "What type of business model is this?" Arthur said, and then paused to shudder as the old man just chuckled. After another moment to realize he wasn't getting out of this he drew a deep breath and let it out, holding out his hand before cringing. "All right," he said, grimly. "There's no help for it. What's next?"
The Old man acted like it was his birthday and Christmas all wrapped together as he stared at Arthur's extended hand, before grabbing the last wand on the table. It was crafted stone and the longest by far, the bottom carved like a handle and rest spiraled into a sharp point with deep curved grooves. It looked nothing like the others, and the wand maker was all but bouncing in place as he described it.
"A wand made of Ancient unique stone, with the duel core of dragon heartstrings and unicorn hair, it's an outstanding eleven inches exactly. Absolute coarse and snappy." he than gently placed the wand into the boy's waiting hands, taking a measured step back as Arthur held it straight up, inspecting every inch. He looked carefully as he moved the wand to the side, the stone surprisingly warm and smooth under his palm and it felt right, the weight and balance perfect.
"Well," Ollivander said, biting his lip so not to squeal in excitement. "give it a snap."
And he did, slicing it to the side out of instinct, and the brilliant array of sparks few from the end and arched like lightning.
"An instant connection indeed." Ollivander's eyebrows shot way up as Arthur stared in wonder, "It seems perfectly matched, as though created just for you. One of the best connections I've ever seen." Arthur stared between his wand and the elder man as he hummed, leaning back. "Congratulations, Mr. Evans. "
"You left me." Arthur snarled, all but willing the Professor's hair to start prematurely balding as he glared at the back of his stupidly cowardly cranium. "I was viciously attacked by magical fruit and you just left me there to fend for myself. Bloody ran away! If I never step foot in that store it'll be too soon." he growled, collapsing back into his chair as he held an unreasonable large stack of books in his lap. Snape raised a brow, watching as the boy twisted around and started stuffing twenty books into a backpack that was clearly too small- when had he received a bigger on the inside bag?
Snape nearly had to drag Arthur down the street to the book store, and they spent more than an hour getting both years worth of material, neither of them hiding their ire for each other anymore. When they finally reached Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, and the witch herself greeted them at the counter Arthur stumbled at the suddenly welcome atmosphere of the store. Elderly and kind, she curtseyed when she saw the pair of them, before coming around the counter corner to greet them personally.
"Severus!" she huffed with a smile. "Lovely to see you again. Come for some new work robes?"
He inclined his head to her, quickly changing his face into a neutral stance as she tutted over him. "Not today, Madam. Just Mr. Evans here."
"Oh!" She looked down, just noticing the shorter blond boy half hidden behind the teacher and all but cooed. "Oh my, what a lovely young man!"
"Professor Snape?" A shrewd voice rang out, "What happened to your face?"
Snape looked up, catching sight of another boy that was getting fitted by one of Madam Malkin's assistants. Light blonde hair delicately styled and handsome angled features, Draco Malfoy would have looked like the dignified politician he was bred to be, had it not been for that ugly pout. From the condescending look and propriety to the sharp grey eyes. Even so, Arthur knew a spoiled child of a court to a lesser king when he saw one.
"Draco, getting your school supplies today as well?" From the corner of his eye, he saw Arthur's face become eerily blank as he regard the young Malfoy, almost an exact replica of a perfect dignified pureblood that it caught him off guard.
Draco nodded and then turned his attention to Evans. Both boys stared each other down for a moment, and Snape could see the oddest emotion flashing through Draco's gaze. As though he felt a belated kinship to a boy he had never met before – which struck Snape as downright peculiar.
"Ah, this is—" Snape began, feeling that introductions were in order before faltering as Arthur didn't change his face back to normal. "Mr. Evans, you'll both be attending Hogwarts together."
"Evans?" Draco repeated, suddenly sounding rather confused. His tone was almost rude. "I've never heard of that sir name before." Snape glanced quickly toward Arthur to see if he was offended, or even understood, but he was surprised to see the opposite. Arthur looked pleased. As though he didn't mind in the slightest that no wizard had ever heard of his name before.
"Yes," Arthur smirked, standing up straight and completely composed, he looked just as royal and proud as any attending. "I'm not—"
"You can talk in a minute!" Madam Malkin interrupted with a huff, holding up a hand between them as if to cut it off the conversation physically. "Just hop onto the stool on the other side so I can start measuring your robes!"
Arthur nodded. "Right, sorry madam," he said sheepishly and he quickly moved to the spot the witch had indicated. Madam Malkin slipped a robe over his head and begun to pin it to the correct lengths. It didn't escape Snape's notice of how comfortable the boy was during the fitting. Like he had done this many times in the past.
Surely not, he was Muggleborn. This wasn't normal behavior for them.
"My father should be back in a moment," Draco told Severus and he nodded his head stiffly, aware of how even the boys drawling tone was reminiscent of Lucius. "He's just looking at books at the moment. Mother's up the street as well."
"Are both your parents wizards?" Arthur turned, actually rather interested in the idea of people not only living in areas like this but growing up in this world altogether. How different they must be.
Snape grimaced internally – the subject of blood purity was one he'd rather have avoided. He'd have to discuss with Arthur what topics were appropriate when in the company of certain people before he drew unwanted attention.
"Yes," Draco said turning to Evans. A slight sneer was taking his face now. "Are yours?"
"Neither."
The boy's body promptly snapped away from him so quickly that Arthur had first thought he'd fallen over. Blinking, Arthur could feel the utter disgusted sneer cast his way as the boy brought a hand up as if to ward him away. "You will not speak to me, is that understood Mudblood?" Draco snapped, looking Arthur up and down once more as he finally noticed his Muggle clothing peaking out from the robes, and he made a face like he was smelling something foul. Severus opened his mouth to intervene as Arthur's jaw clenched, only to feel the room harden.
"Young man, I do not believe we've been introduced properly." Arthur ground out, his tone demanding attention as his hand snapped up to grab the boy's arm, pulling him close.
Without moving another muscle Arthur seemingly transformed where he stood, suddenly seemingly much taller to the child that froze in place, his presence like a man looking down his nose at a lowly surf throwing a tantrum when they should be seen and not heard. Draco sputtered, caught off guard as blue eyes pierced his, looking down from a high place as his magic tried to strangle the insolent little curd where he was stood.
"I'm Arthur Evans. And you need to learn manners." he glared, "Now would be the appropriate time."
Severus, unfortunately for Mr. Malfoy, wasn't fast enough.
By late afternoon all the money had gone, replaced instead by a few dozen heavy packages and a cage holding the crankiest looking owl in existance. After walking out of the final shop, Snape paused in place to rub the bridge of his nose and grimaced so hard Arthur seriously worried for his health. He watched as the professor stared at him like he was seconds away from ending the boy– before waving him back towards the Diagon Alley entrance.
"I see now," Snape cut sharply as he rubbed the skin under his bruised eye, trying desperately to strive off the impeding migraine as his lip curling into nothing but pure contempt, "That the cloth does not fall far from the tree."
Arthur just shrugged as they left the alley, shifting his bag.
"I didn't hit him in the face." Arthur seemed appalled at the very idea, "The side of the ribs- He'll be feeling that for at least a week."
Snape just rubbed his temples harder.