"I said I would be okay alone," the boy repeated in a threatening tone. The professor, though, seemed calm.
"Harry, I will not let you-"
"I've faced more things than you think I have," Harry snapped. The messy haired boy aimed to advance but stopped himself as dark mist seemed to erupt from his hand. "I know magic, the voices told me, I've been studying Alchemy since the age of seven!"
Dumbledore stayed silent. What did he mean by the voices? Was it a part of Riddle's soul, or the Obscurial living within him? He ignored the stares given to the both of them in the small pub and rather focused on the boy's statement about Alchemy. He first studied Alchemy by the age of nineteen, and it was the most challenging magical field out there.
Harry took a piece of paper from his robes, a pen, and scribbled away, while Dumbledore gulped his Butterbeer. "What exactly are you writing?"
"None of your business."
Dumbledore put down his glass of Butterbeer, amused. "I do think it's time we get going, Mr. Potter. We've been in this pub - arguing, I must say, for more than a quarter of an hour-"
Then there was an explosion, and the boy was gone, leaving a piece of paper behind. Dumbledore sat, shocked, while the crowd gave him curious stares, discussing among themselves if the Harry Potter had just disappeared out of thin air. Tom gave him a look of pity as if this was a normal occurrence.
Did the boy just apparate?
The old man was talking, and the boy took advantage of that. His similarities with Riddle, how he wanted to be alone, and how he seemed all too independent - Dumbledore shook his head. It can't be too late. He must save the boy to save the Wizarding World. Standing up to search for the boy, he opened the piece of paper and read the short, messy, and big handwriting written:
I am fine. Don't search.
Don't believe: go to Vernon's house at 8 PM.
Dumbledore didn't know what to say. "Sneaky," he muttered, chuckling. The boy was more of a Slytherin than he thought. He decided to let him go for now - he had wanted to test his skills, anyway, and more than a dozen of loyal witches and wizards here will be able to alarm him if something went wrong. He wanted to test his independence, and his knowledge of the Wizarding World due to the 'voices' he heard.
The door swung open to reveal a family of three. Dumbledore stood up to greet his old friend, Nicolas Flamel, and his - tenth grandson, he thought, before mentally chuckling.
Harry had successfully teleported (not apparated) to inside Diagon Alley. He teleported almost everyday. The young boy didn't know how, but he knew that it was somehow connected to the voices inside his head.
This is Diagon Alley, Harry; a voice echoed in his head. You will receive your first wand here. Your first murder.
The boy shook his head, already used to this kind of conversation. His skin tickled. Something moved under his sleeves - Harry walked towards the sidewalk and let Nalgae slither to his hand. The winged snake slithered to Harry's shoulders, where he admired the place.
Diagon Alley, the snake hissed. This was another thing. Harry could speak snake language, but he didn't exactly want to show it off to the public, so he nodded. Go to Ollivander's.
Harry followed his Occamy's orders, walking calmly in a composed posture towards the visible shop. He was stopped by an Auror, who had bubblegum pink hair and a crazed gleam in her eye. "Excuse me, young man. Is there a reason for the Occamy on your shoulder?"
Something lurched inside his body, and the voices said, kill her! Harry turned towards the auror and gave her a sharp stare. "He is my familiar," he said coldly, putting power to his words. The auror didn't flinch, and Harry raised his eyebrow. "As far as I know, woman, carrying pets to the Alley is legal, especially trained ones. Nalgae is not dangerous; I assure you."
Then, someone - someone whom Harry wanted to bite - exclaimed, "That's Harry Potter!"
That part of the street stopped, as everyone started to crowd the poor boy, wanting to have a look at the Potter. The female auror was forced to act when a bald man tried to Accio the boy. But Harry was more than capable of taking care of himself. He grabbed the auror by the shoulder harshly and teleported into the entrance of Ollivander's.
The auror coughed, looking green and sick, and swayed around like she was drunk. "Come on, I don't have much time," Harry hissed. "Don't you have crowd control over here?"
"Did you just apparate?" The auror coughed. Aurors started to control the crowd, who all claimed that Harry Potter had disappeared.
"I teleported," Harry replied glancing at the building. The shop was narrow and shabby, providing a gold marking saying: Ollivander's, Makers of Fine Wands.
"Same thing," she commented, brushing the dirt off her pants.
"It's different," the boy turned. "Don't you have some Auror duties to attend to, anyways? I assure you, I could take care of my own."
The pink haired Auror stared at him, then blinked as if just remembering something. "You're Harry Potter?"
Harry lifted his head to face her darkly. "Yes. Anything wrong with that?" he snarled. The auror, though, unlike others, didn't flinch. Harry wondered. For years now, he had used that trick to make people do what he wants, but that auror - she's different, Harry concluded.
"No," The auror said quickly. "It's just - why are you so snappy?"
Harry laughed. "I'm in a good mood!"
"Anyways, I've gotta accompany you, because having that Occamy - while I'm sure it means no harm, other aurors might think otherwise. By being with you, I will be able to reverse that thought."
Just kill her, the deep voice said. She's worthless; she cannot be manipulated; she is no use to you. Kill her, now. Harry sneered, hoping the voices would just go away, but he agreed with the voices, at least to a certain extent.
The woman was different, but Harry wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not. He lifted his head and glared at the woman, who stared back with a sharp look, arms crossed, as if she was used to handling these kinds of things everyday.
But what she said was true. He was too lazy to explain to every auror he met about Nalgae the Occamy - it was just not worth his time. "Fine," Harry said. "That is if you promise to shut your mouth and not disturb me. Then I'd be forced to kill you."
Tonks snorted, but she got a feeling the Potter boy wasn't joking. "Where's your companion, anyway? Isn't a professor, or your aunt and uncle accompanying you?"
"None of your business."
The auror scoffed, never finding someone this feisty except for her mentor, Mad-Eye. She reached out her hand. "My name's Tonks. Call me Tonks."
Harry didn't accept the handshake. Instead, he turned back towards the building. "Harry, why's your Occamy staring at me like I'm lunch?"
Harry tilted his head towards Nalgae, who were resting around his neck, its wings surrounding him like a scarf, but its head were focused on Tonks. "That's because you won't shut up."
"No need to be rude, geez."
Harry pushed the door open, and Nalgae turned his head towards the building. This is Ollivianders, Nalgae hissed. I've heard about the shopkeeper-
The serpent was stopped when an old man stood up properly on the counter, looking straight at Harry. The man had wide, pale eyes and a wild, Shakespeare-like white hair. That's Garrick Ollivander, Nalgae added.
"Mr. Potter," said Ollivander. He didn't seem fazed or scared by the snake in the room - instead, a gaze of curiosity.
"I am here to buy my wand," Harry stated coldly, not backing up to the unnerving stares Ollivander gave him.
"And - Nymphadora Tonks," Ollivander said, looking at Tonks. Hm, Harry thought. She had never told him her full name. Tonks nodded, and opened her mouth, but was cut off. "Twelve inches, oak wood, hawthorn and dragon heartstring?"
Tonks nodded, looking like she had swallowed a whole potato. She doesn't like her first name, Nalgae observed. You can use that against her.
"And oh my - excuse me, how very curious - is that an Occamy? If I am not mistaken, from the aura, you are his familiar, yes? Here at Ollivander's, we are trying to use Occamy scales as cores, but these wands are too powerful. Exceptionally good at dueling, espescially when combatting the cores of dragon heartstring and pheonix feather-"
Ollivander's face lit up as if he had just learned of something very important. Ollivander approached Harry, now inches in front of him. He could feel Tonks shuffling uncomfortably behind him. "His wand - Pheonix Feather core - the wand that did this," he touched Harry's scar.
Pain trickled down his forehead, as the deep voices multiplied to a million, all screaming: "HARRY POTTER!" His mind was overwhelmed. Memories of his parents' death, of the Dursley's abuse, everything went at once, including the feeling of his forehead being ripped from him-
Darkness surrounded the shop. It seemed like the candles had died, as Harry leaped back, wailing in pain.
But then it was over. The pain. The darkness. Ollivander stared at him as if nothing happened, and Tonks held him back. "Don't touch me!" Harry bellowed. Nalgae hissed, leaping for Ollivander, but was stopped with an animated shadow, looking like rope, which surrounded Ollivander, and the old man struggled for dear life. It gripped his neck, and Ollivander kneeled down, choking-
"Mr. Olliviander!" Tonks stepped forward, waved her wand, and conjured a Patronus that looked like a jack rabbit. The Shadow died, and Ollivander went frigid, falling hard towards the wooden floor.
