Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, but I do own anything you don't recognize as a part of that series
A/N: This was originally going to be a oneshot, but all my reviwers wanted me to continue so here I am. I hope you like it...
Vault Number One
The sun was bright on the cobblestones as he stepped out onto the streets of Diagon Alley with his prize secure on a heavy chain around his neck. The chain was thick enough that it wouldn't break and had no catch so it would not come undone unless it were lifted from his neck over his head. The metal of the chain was heavy enough that he would be able to tell if it was missing. The stone had been set so that it would be able to hang on this chain specifically and no other.
Two people passed, the smaller, a raven-haired boy around ten or eleven, bumped into him, jostling him enough so that he jerked his head in surprise.
Why had he not been able to sense the boy's approach. Despite the deep hood he wore that cut off one's peripheral vision, he had other means of detecting when people became to close. The skill had become second nature so that he no longer had to think to know when people approached, even when they came from behind. How had this little boy been able to circumvent it?
"Sorry sir!" The boy said timidly, looking up at him, trying to see into his deep hood. Not wanting to appear too suspicious to such an unassertive child, he warily lowered his hood.
"Do-" He stopped in mid sentence, and understanding suddenly hit him. This was a Chosen One, probably the one who had allegedly defeated the most recent Dark Lord. That was how the boy had approached him unnoticed. Both Chosen Ones and Dark Lords tended to have a certain aurora about them, something that blinded some extra senses a mage could develop. He did not know why this was so, simply that it was. He had encountered enough Chosen Ones and Dark Lords to learn this fact. He had also encountered enough to know that they rarely wanted to be singled out for any reason. "Do not worry yourself," He continued, hoping the boy had not noticed his slight pause.
The boy nodded and continued on his way, followed by a man quite larger than even the tallest human in a heavy overcoat a similar color to his thick beard. That one has giant blood in him, he thought silently to himself, filing the observation away in the event they ever met again. One never knew what would come in handy. The half-giant gave him a look that was almost suspicious in nature and he quickly pulled his hood back up. He knew his perfectly-plain face could be disconcerting. Most people tended to find one thing that was unique and recognizable about a persons face and latch onto it. When such a distinguishing feature was not present that person's face began to blur in the memory almost immediately, causing the viewer to doubt themselves. This doubting always left them uncomfortable. His plainness was handy to exploit when he did not want to be recognized, but he did not use it often, preferring to keep his face hidden. Even the plainest of faces could eventually be recognized enough to stand out to the wrong person. Nodding respectfully at the half-giant, he continued on his way, surreptitiously feeling for the weight at his neck. One could never be to careful.
Thus assured his treasure was secure, he made his way over to the Leaky Cauldron. He still had some errands to run, though not as important, but he needed to put the precious stone in a place where he could be assured no one would be able to take it even if they did see past his little ruse. When he arrived at the slightly run down building he went straight up to his room and pushed the door open. He had locked it prior to leaving the paltry protections wizards had placed on the door were nothing to him. So he had placed extra precautions and he doubted anything would be able to get by what he had placed behind the door.
He entered and was immediately approached by a great white tiger. The cat was small compared to any of its wild companions but it was definitely huge, larger than any domestic cat no matter the breed would ever get. He was a tall man, but the tiger easily reached his hip at the shoulders.
"Nashira," He nodded politely to her, knowing the great cat would recognize the affection present in his voice though he doubted any other would. If an enemy knew how much this cat meant to him they would surely target her in order to get to him. He even neglected to show affection to those few humans who chose to call him friend rather than acquaintance. Anyone could turn out to be an enemy even if their intentions were good. A purr too low for normal hearing rumbled from Nashira's chest letting him know that she too felt the same.
"I have a gift for you," He said as the cat stalked towards him in a dignified manner as was the way of felines. Pulling the chain that held his blue stone he draped it over her neck and shrunk the chain so that is would not be able to go over her head again but at the same time would not be tight enough to chafe or rub her fur wrong. "Hold the Azraq for me, please." Nashira blinked her sapphire eyes in a particular way that he knew to mean 'yes, I understand'. "Do not let any but me remove it," He added an a dead language that no one now knew fluent enough to speak. Nashira rumbled her approval and nudged his thigh affectionately.
"Come, I have some more errands to run. If you wish, you may accompany me." He said heading back towards the door. Nashira's continuing looming presence at his side was answer enough. Even though nothing of value was left in the room, he locked the door as they left. Where most were to afraid of bringing their most valued possession along with them for fear of losing it or having it stolen, he knew that his prize was safest by him, or more specifically, his companion. Still, some might become suspicious if he left the door unsecured.
The pair drew many pairs of eyes, most of them fearful, as they strolled as leisurely as possible down Diagon Alley. The increased attention was something he had become accustomed to as he had had many unusual animal companions throughout the years, some even stranger than a great white tiger, but Nashira had yet to become acclimated to being the focus of so many gazes. She growled at anyone who got to close; her fur bristled under the hand he had placed reassuringly on her shoulders. She had been in big crowds before, but he assumed that with the added responsibility of the Azraq she was a little on edge. He could not blame her, but she would have to conquer this feeling or it might give the importance of the crystal she was wearing away.
"Calm," He whispered in the language only the two of them shared, hoping it would either serve as a reassurance or an admonishment. Either way it should get the effect he desired. And it did. Her tail was still twitching erratically, but that could be interpreted as normal cat behavior.
He needed another set of robes, something that would not scream 'traveler'. Some places that look was necessary to get what he wanted, but the place he intended to go, that image was not desired for him to be completely respected. Maybe a set of dark blue or green, close to his other set of threadbare black robes, but not quite. The same cut though, of course. Perhaps a tunic and pants would also be in order. He was not comfortable in wearing robes all of the time, though there had been times when that was all he could wear in order to keep up his false identity. That had been a long time ago and constantly wearing robes again was beginning to chafe his skin. The tunic and pants he would get would be a nondescript brown, maybe black or gray, whichever he could obtain faster and without measurements. He was not keen on taking off his cloak.
When they reached the shop he looked inside to see if Madame Malkin was occupied. It turned out she was. The witch was currently measuring and adjusting the robes of a blond-haired boy whose face seemed frozen in a perpetual grimace, as if something ugly had been thrust underneath his nose. The other, waiting to be seen to was the black-haired timid boy he had run into earlier. He decided to wait until both boys had cleared the shop.
He settled down on a nearby bench and Nashira promptly curled up next to him. He pulled her head into his lap and began to stroke her fur absently, wondering why he kept running into this particular Chosen One. True he had been attracted almost like a magnet to Chosen Ones before, unable to avoid them no matter how he had tried, always seeming to end up in the same place as them, but they always seemed to lose their allure once their task had been complete whether that meant their Dark Lord won or they prevailed. If this boy's job was done, why was he unconsciously pulled towards him. Perhaps his Dark Lord had not yet been defeated as it was obvious that this Chosen One had not lost.
A/N: There it was. I have absolutely no idea where this is going so if you have any ideas please tell me! Even if you don't have an idea reveiws would be very nice.
