I am back with a new chapter! I do hope that this chapter is quite okay, as it felt a little rushed to me.
It is only because I am quite eager for Harry to meet more people, and more people he will meet in the next chapter. I wonder who, hm?
Votes for who Harry will end up with:
Draco: 1
Damien: 4
Tom Riddle: 5
"So, this is our library. We have more books stored away in our vaults in the bank, and some in the basement, but here are all the books which are safe to touch. Feel free to venture here whenever you feel like it," his mother said, as they entered the so-called library.
It was giant, probably about the same size as the small library they had near the Dursleys, where Harry had went quite a lot of times, no matter how lazy he seemed with school.
He just could not care less about grades, showing up and participating in class.
Harry had always preferred to read away and learn on his own, unless he had questions he wanted to have answered. Yet he despised the contest in class and how a grade could determine the future for a person.
He had also had the pleasure of having Vernon beating him to a pulp whenever he was better than Dudley at something, so Harry much preferred to silently do his things.
Wouldn't do to have a freak trying to be better than the normal people, people with a worth.
"I can show you where to start, if you wish, though my specialty would mainly be potions. It is the subject I teach," Severus said, startling Harry out of his thoughts.
Tilting his head in question, Severus started talking again. Harry quite liked that about the man; he seemed to just understand Harry.
"Potions is a very complicated subject in which you use different ingredients to make different potions and poisons. It is often used in ways medicine would be in the muggle world," he explained, and Harry nodded.
It sounded quite intriguing, but also much like the stupid fairy tales from children's books. It gave Harry the image of Severus standing in a cemetery, under the moonlight surrounded in fog as he enchanted something in Latin as he threw different gross things in a big cauldron.
The image made him want to laugh, but he kept it in, not wanting them to think him more insane than he was.
"I would not mind you helping me with finding some books, if it is no bother," Harry said, once he remembered he had to answer the man. He was actually being asked, and his opinion seemed to matter for some reason.
"Very well, perhaps Draco and Minerva can help too? Minerva is also a teacher, and Draco did not finish his school that long ago," Severus suggested.
Draco, the blonde bloke from earlier, casually nodded his head and started to go through the shelves.
Minerva, was apparently the elderly woman who had been standing to the side. She had her hair up in a bun, glasses and very sharp features. She stepped up to them, giving Harry a small smile.
"I teach transfiguration, and it widely seems to describe itself. It is the art of changing the properties of one object, and thereby turning it into another. It is also, however, the art of vanishing and creating objects," she explained in a crisp tone, and with a slightly Scottish accent, if Harry was correct.
She also went out to search the shelves, while Severus nodded for Harry to follow him. The rest seemed to find their own places on couches or also searching out some books, and it all just seemed so casual and familiar.
Except for Harry. He was standing out so vividly amongst the rest of them. He almost felt like an intruder, if not for the fact that they all seemed so welcoming.
He at least felt more welcome here, than he had ever felt at the Dursleys.
Following around Severus, as he grabbed various books and explained what they were about, Harry started to relax.
The man's baritone voice and straight way of talking made it easy for Harry to feel at ease, and at one point he had even ended up smiling, which Severus had seen but not pointed out.
Harry had feared that having people introduce themselves to him would mean a lot of socializing, but they had only stepped up to him whenever they had been of help, and when Harry had sat down in a chair with a book, he had been left unbothered.
That was, until his mother, Narcissa and Draco went over to him.
"Harry, do you mind if we sit here?" his mother asked, gesturing to the chairs situated around him. Shifting slightly in his seat, he shook his head. They all sat down, and none seemed to know what to say.
That was, until Draco spoke up.
"I have no idea what muggle fashion is like, but the fashion here is quite different, especially when it comes to our families because we have a lot of money. So, we thought it would be adequate for us to all go shopping one day, probably also for books and anything else you need or would like to get," he said.
Harry almost wanted to smile. The way he had said it, reminded him of the way Severus spoke, and he assumed that the two had spent a lot of time around each other.
"Is it… is it required of me to always wear wizarding clothes?" Harry finally mustered the courage to ask, biting his bottom lip. Though he did not own much clothes, and really only now had the clothes he had worn to here, he did quite like his rather rebellious muggle clothes.
"Oh no, we can go to the muggle world too, and then you can get whatever you would like from there too. You just need something which you can wear out in the wizarding world too, and, this might sound medieval, but we have a lot of galas and gatherings, so you will need some formal robes for that," his mother said, smiling brightly.
"Oh, I suppose… that makes sense. When… when would this be? That we will go out and buy whatever, I mean," Harry asked, feeling stupid about how often he stopped himself before asking a question.
None of anybody present had seemed mad at him for asking about anything, and they even wanted to spend money. On him nonetheless.
"We can go whenever you feel up to it. If you wouldn't mind, however, I have to go and buy some new dresses myself for an upcoming event Monday, so two days from now. Would that be alright with you?" his mother inquired.
"Sure," Harry said.
Why they always asked if he would be 'okay with it' or if he 'wouldn't mind' he still could not understand. They had the power. They could ask him to do anything, and he would have to do it.
Yes, he was legally an adult who could take his own decisions, but he had nothing. He was in their house, their home, surrounded by all of their friends.
He was at their feet. Nothing he could really do. If they chose to do something to him, he would simply have to accept it.
He was no longer sure about whether he was the one who was crazy or if it were them.
…
Time seemed to pass by quickly.
He was never really left alone unless he was in his room and though he often wanted to spend the day alone in his room, someone always came to knock at his door in the morning and took him somewhere in the manor.
Even though it bothered him, for he had been far too used to spending time on his own, he could not find it in him to complain.
They had been so nice to him, so who was he to order them around?
Unless he had a joint in his hand, alcohol in his blood and a Damien to kiss, Harry rarely felt like being around a lot of people.
No way he could make himself explain that to his parents. They always looked at him as if he was send from God, and Harry wanted to do nothing but leave them in that belief.
Another side of him desperately wanted to break that image too, though. He wanted to burn it, tear it down, make them see that he was bad company.
He could never do anything right, he would soon fuck up something so badly that they would want to send him back to the Dursleys, fully knowing what they would do to him.
Because he deserved it, he did, he really did. How he had gone without any form of punishment these last few days, Harry had no idea. It was brutal to wait for the first strike, the first sign of anger towards him.
But maybe that was their way of torturing him. They made him wait, made him feel really safe before they struck.
He so badly wanted to scream at them sometimes. Like the day before, when his mother had taken him around in the garden.
He had expected to get instructions on how he was to take care of it, get to know what kind of labor he had to do to earn his fill.
He had not expected for his mother to talk about the different plants, how bright the weather was and how she could not wait to go buy him new stuff.
Why? Was what he wanted to yell. Where did this kindness come from? What did they expect in return? When would they take it all back?
His thoughts were repetitive and draining and bothersome, and he was left feeling so exhausted whenever he went to bed.
As if taunting him, he heard a knock on his door.
"Harry? I was told to come and fetch you. Your mother, Narcissa and Draco are gathered in the living room, and they all seem quite ready to go and acquire you some new clothes," Severus' baritone voice sounded from the other side of the door.
Severus. So far, he was the only person Harry was sure he could spend an entire day around, mainly because the man was quiet.
He was sarcastic and sardonic and sometimes even cruel in the way he spoke, but it was a level Harry could talk and he often found himself quite amused around him.
"I will be out soon," Harry said, hoping it would be loud enough for the man to hear. He wished to feel as though he was alone in his fort of darkness for some moments more, the more the merrier.
"I will see to it that they do not disturb you while you get ready," Severus answered, and Harry smiled. This was why the man was one he found himself gravitating to, whenever he could.
Harry was also very sure that he could not stay holed up in bed for much longer, there was after all only so much one man could do against three shopaholics.
Getting out of bed was the hardest part, and soon he found himself dressed and walking down towards the living room. He still sometimes found himself lost somewhere in the mansion, but Twinkle had been quite helpful in those moments.
"There you are, Harry, I was starting to fear you'd left me here with these vultures while you were finding a way to escape," Severus drawled, as soon as he entered the living room.
Harry snorted.
"Wouldn't dream of it," he said. His mother and Narcissa merely giggled, but Draco crossed his arms.
"I am hurt, Sev, I thought I was you godson? Where is your understanding and love towards me? I'd never be a vulture, I would hate to get stained in anything as dirty as blood," he said, crossing his arms and puffing his chest.
Harry had not known the bloke for a lot of time, but he knew that was such a Draco thing for him to do. It reminded him of a show horse, with the way he was often swaying around and preening, making it known that he was not of a low standard.
It was not something Harry minded, not at all, he found it quite funny. The part he did mind, though, was that he was never sure whether the bloke was joking or being serious.
"My love you may have, but understanding the need to buy clothes just for the merit of doing it, I shall not show any understanding for, that is too much to ask of me," Severus said, a small smirk making its way to his lips.
Draco huffed.
"Well, if you are quite done, let's get going before you have scared Harry away from us," Lily said with a laugh, beckoning Harry to come over.
Only pausing shortly, Harry went over to her. Severus is here, he will help you, it's your own mother, she won't hurt you, they haven't yet, don't worry, nothing to be afraid of.
"We're going to apparate to Diagon Ally, so all you have to do is grab my arm, okay? It may feel a little uncomfortable," his mother said with a soft smile, and Harry nodded.
Reaching forward to grab her arm, he was ready for her to flinch away from his touch, slap his hand away, call him a
"-good for nothing freak, do not touch me with those filthy hands!"
Slap. Slap. Slap. Pain. A little blood. No sound. Calm.
Yet she did not, not even when he actually grabbed her arm. She moved her hand to tighten his grip, and then they apparated.
…
Diagon Ally was everything and more than Harry had expected. Magic made everything so, well, magical. He found it hard to concentrate on one thing for very long, before his gaze drifted to something new.
"Come along, Harry, we can't have you getting lost," his mother said, carefully grabbing his arm and steering him with them.
They entered a store where they immediately were assaulted by a very ecstatic woman.
"Greetings, Mrs. Potter, Mrs. Malfoy, Mr. Malfoy. And am I to assume this is the Mr. Potter who has finally come back to our world?" the woman said, her eyes locked onto Harry.
"You are correct, madam Malkin. We are here to get him a wardrobe, so we need clothes for every occasion," his mother said, and Harry felt like fleeing back home at the glint in the woman's eyes.
"That is something we can have arranged," she said, and soon Harry had been measured and tried on so many different outfits, that he felt like sagging in relief when his mother finally took pity on him.
"Draco, maybe you could take Harry to Ollivanders and go and look at some books? Maybe grab some food? Then we'll continue to find some more clothes here," she said, and if Draco wanted to stay, he did not say so.
"Sure, come along, Harry, it was also due time for you to get a wand, can't believe that had escaped my mind completely," Draco said, motioning for Harry to follow him.
And so he did.
They entered a small store, which reminded Harry of the old rundown libraries you'd see in horror movies, but instead the place was filled with small boxes. Dust had settled on many of them, and though the store seemed tiny, the rows seemed endless.
If the place had creeped out Harry, the man did more so. He seemingly popped up out of nowhere, and his glassy eyes seemed to look straight through him.
"Mr. Potter, have you finally come to get a wand?" the man said, before Draco or himself could say anything.
Narrowing his eyes at the man who just knew who we was before even introducing himself, Harry crossed his arms across his chest and took a small step backwards.
"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter, and I know even more witches and wizards. Let's get straight to it," the man said, picking a box out and putting it on the table beside him.
"Come try it, Mr. Potter," he said, and, warily, Harry went to the table. In the box was a twig, or, to Harry it was nothing but a twig. He did not know what he had expected when they had said he would need a wand, but this was not it.
Not really sure what he was supposed to do, Harry grabbed the wand out of the box, and looked at the man.
"Give it a flick," he encouraged, and Harry did so. This sent several boxes from a row through the air, and Harry quickly put the wand down.
"Not that one, no, let's try another," the man mumbled, and so it went on. Wand after wand, and Harry was starting to feel slightly sorry for the state he would leave the store in.
The man, however, did not look as though he cared at all. He was only walking around while mumbling, bringing him wand upon wand.
"Perhaps, but… maybe," the man said, and then he disappeared. It took him longer to come back with this wand, enough for Harry to look at Draco, who seemed just as perplexed as he was.
When he reappeared, his steps seemed a lot slower and less eccentric than they had before. He carefully opened the box, and held out the wand for Harry to take.
When Harry took it, he instantly felt a warmth in his hand, spreading to the rest of his body. He did not have to flick it to know that this was the one, but he did anyway.
He felt powerful. Magic weaved around him in a display of light and fireworks. It was weird that such a small thing, could make him feel so assured and safe.
"Curious," the man said, when the light started to dissipate.
"You see, Mr. Potter, the Phoenix feather that is in the core of this wand, gave one other feather. The man who has that wand, was the one whose followers were the reason why you had to leave the wizarding world for so long," he continued, staring him straight into the eyes.
"Curious indeed," Harry mumbled.