- Harry Potter and the Bridge of Dreams -
Chapter 9
Binding Friendships, or The Brothers Three
By chance, if chance you call it, they came together – muggleborn, pureblood, and one in-between; by chance, they took the first step down the road that led away from destruction. Who knows what would have happened, if one had arrived a moment later? All we can say now is "It happened." And of that, we should all be glad...
- From A Modern Wizarding History, By Datru Thov Depast
The voice of a young boy was suddenly raised over the calm, verdant forest of Green Grove; a spatter of birds rose in flight from the trees, protesting.
"I can't use Dad's wand! I won't, I won't!"
August Longbottom stared at her grandson in shock. Neville, her mild-mannered, sweet and soft spoken Neville, appeared to be on the verge of a temper tantrum – or a nervous breakdown. Nine years old was a good age to begin training House Magic, and Neville's first accidental magic a few days before had come as a relief.
She had thought it only fitting that Frank's son use Frank's wand, now that her son was no longer able to make use of it himself. She had thought to save herself a trip to Diagon Alley, with all its attendant dangers – she had thought to keep Neville safe in Green Grove for just a little longer. Two years – just two more years until Hogwarts...
She had not thought that Neville would react so badly to the idea.
"Neville – dear – it sparks for you -"
"I won't use Dad's wand, Gran! I can't – he's not -"
He turned large, grey eyes up to her, and sobbed:
"Dad's not dead, Gran! I won't take his wand! Dad's not dead!"
She stood still frozen, mesmerized by those eyes, her son's eyes, her poor not-quite-dead son's eyes – no, his son's eyes. Neville's eyes, pleading with her not to abandon hope. Not to consign his parents to the dead; not to forget. She had thought he was merely acting spoiled, acting like the pampered child he was for once, instead of like his mother with his father's eyes – but this! In her wildest dreams she had not suspected -
But she should have. She saw that clearly now – she should have.
This wise boy, this wise...this too wise boy. He, too, is a boy-who-lived; and I am so grateful -
Augusta cleared her throat. Crisply, she spoke, and nodded sharply to hide the glistening in her eyes.
"I...I see. You're right, of course. I...had not thought of it quite like that. Will you put it back beside your father's picture, Neville? And then go tell Algie we're taking a trip to Diagon Alley today."
Neville sniffled, and wiped his eyes, and nodded; Augusta watched him shuffle over to his father's portrait, and then out of the room, and let out a long sigh.
Her eyes turned to the picture on the mantle; ah Frank – such a brave boy...such a good, brave, boy...just like Neville.
I should tell him more often. And I should tell him more about Frank...and Alice.
"Gran? Gran?"
Her eyes had drifted shut as she drifted into her thoughts; she opened them and found Neville standing in front of her, holding a piece of a parchment.
"Great Uncle Algie gave me a list of ingredients he wants from the 'pothecary while we're gone. He said we should stop at Gringott's, too, if we're getting me a wand."
Augusta raised her eyebrows, and then lifted herself out of her chair.
"Well, sounds like quite a day, then. Get your cloak, Neville, and wash your face and hands. I'll be waiting by the Gate, and mind -"
"Gran, may we floo instead? I don't like apparating -"
She let out another sigh.
"Very well. You may floo; I will apparate and meet you there. But you will not step into that fireplace until I have apparated, do you understand?"
Meekly, Neville nodded.
"Yes, Gran."
He pulled on his cloak under her direction, and then waited with a pinch of floo power in his hand as his grandmother turned in place and disappeared with a crack.
Neville wiped his eyes, and sniffled, and let out a very tiny sigh, and then flung the pinch of powder on the fire.
"Diagon Alley!"
Harry and Dudley were waiting by the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron when Sirius followed them through, wide eyed and staring around them with all the grace of tourists. He chuckled and caught them each by the shoulder, pulling them along.
"Don't gawk, boys. Come on; we can come back here for lunch if you like, Tom's got a Salisbury Steak that's to die for, but I thought Dudley wanted a wand?"
Dudley jostled Harry to one side, grinned.
"Yeah! Come on, Harry – where do we go?"
Harry shrugged.
"Dunno. Never been here before; Padfoot, where're we going?"
Sirius ushered them forward, toward the back exit of the pub, and Harry and Dudley exchanged confused glances when they came out in a narrow brick alleyway, occupied only by a pair of trash cans and a significant number of weeds.
"Watch carefully, pup – you too, Dudley."
With precise movements, Sirius tapped the correct bricks in the correct order, and then stood back so the boys could see into Diagon Alley for the first time.
Noise hit them as soon as they were through, the sound of many voices, buying, selling, arguing, conversing, flirting – bells, ringing from a cart coming down the right side of the alley, shouting from a window overhead – there was a whoosh of air that pressed both Dudley and Harry back against Sirius as a pair of teenagers on high-speed brooms flew by, and the two boys exchanged glances and grins.
"Wicked!"
"Wow!"
As they walked along, Harry read the signs over the shops and Dudley did his best not to stare at just about everything – and failed, of course.
"Florean Fortescue's – look, an ice cream parlor!"
"Eww – Dragon liver in a basket – I don't think I want any ice cream for a while, Harry..."
"Flourish and Blott's – that's the bookstore, right Padfoot?"
"Yes, that -"
"Ooh, Knockturn Alley! It looks dangerous - is that where the dark wizards go?"
"There's Ollivander's! Look, Dudley – Ollivander's, Makers Of Fine Wands Since 382 BC...wow, that means Mr. Ollivander is really old!"
Dudley looked, and then turned to the other two uncertainly.
"Really? This is where you buy a magic wand? But it's so..."
The storefront was dim and dark in the brightly lit street; a single wand gleamed with polish on a faded cushion in the window.
Sirius grinned; Harry shrugged.
"Just go in, Dudley, come on -"
Harry pulled open the door, and a little bell tinkled. Dudley entered first – and knew at once that yes, this place was where you could buy a magic wand. The air was thick with age and dust and magic, magic so strong he could feel it pulsing on his skin.
"Wow..."
Harry, too, grinned and looked around. He pulled out his own wand and cradled it carefully in both hands, feeling the hum of that potent magic add to the general feeling in the room.
"Ah, Mr. Black...and Mr. Potter – and Mr. Evans – how delightful. Is there any problem with your wand, Mr. Potter? I had not thought to see you again so soon..."
Harry shook his head.
"No, Mr. Ollivander. I learned my first spell last night and it works great! Thank you, for...you know."
Ollivander bowed in Harry's direction.
"Then I will assume that you are here for your wand, Mr. Evans?"
Ollivander stepped out of the shadowy depths of his shop, eyes looming in the gloom, and Dudley looked around the room uncertainly before he stepped up to the counter.
"Uh...Mr. Ollivander? I'm the one who's here for my wand, but I'm Dudley Dursley; there's no one here called Evans."
Ollivander only smiled, and leaned down disconcertingly close to Dudley's face, as if imparting a secret.
"Mr. Evans, it is your mother's blood, your aunt's magic, and your cousin's presence that brought you wakened magic; your mother is an Evans. Thus it is your mother's blood, your mother's name, that will be tied to everything you do in this world. You should consider it an honor to bear that name – one of our world's great heroes bore it for much of her life..."
Ollivander's voice trailed off, and his eyes drifted to Harry, but Sirius stepped forward before Harry could make too much of it and placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Be that as it may, Ollivander – the wand? For Dudley?"
"Ah...yes, of course. Your wand arm, Mr. Evans?"
"Uh...my right, sir."
"Hold out your arm, then...yes...very good."
Harry watched as Dudley went through the same process he had been through, humming to himself the little tune Ollivander had sung about wand-woods.
"That's enough, then -"
The tape measure (that had been measuring the length of Dudley's ear lobes) snapped itself up into a tight little roll and zoomed into Ollivander's hand. Swiftly, he turned to the piles of wand boxes stacked along the walls, and began to pull out several, muttering thoughtfully to himself as he went along.
"Unicorn hair...pah, that'll never work – but Thestral hair, perhaps, perhaps...hmm, no, too short, far too short! Hmm...Cherry?...oh yes – here, Mr. Evans, give this one a try!"
Dudley tried, with no effect, perhaps sixteen or seventeen wands, and then found one that warmed in his grasp and sent a flight of white sparks out to drift down like petals.
"Nice, very nice...Mahogany and Thestral hair, eleven and three quarter inches...hmm..."
Ollivander stared down at Dudley for a long moment, glanced at Harry, and then reached, not behind the counter, but under it, and pulled out a dusty black box, about two feet on a side. Carefully, Ollivander undid the clasp and opened the lid; it creaked alarmingly.
"That wand is quite a good match, an excellent match, in fact - but not perfect. In the same way that Mr. Potter's wand was not...perfect. Not...exactly his. I would like you to try these wands, Mr. Evans – there are only three of them, it will not take long. They have been crafted from legendary woods, and legendary beasts; they have been in my possession for quite a long time. Here."
Unnoticed behind them, there was a faint tinkle as the door to Ollivander's shop opened, and then closed. Augusta and Neville Longbottom entered, and stood quietly, waiting their turn. Only Augusta's eyes widened as she recognized Harry Potter – and then kept silent, and refrained from gawking, as a good matron should.
One at a time, Dudley received the "legendary" wands, and felt a tingle of power with the first, a little bit stronger than the wand that had worked for him. Despite the feeling, the wand was silent, emitted no sparks. The second wand in the box, however, erupted with glittering light in his hands, shifting dark green and pale golden hues that illuminated Dudley's features like a summer day. The scent of lotus and cool waters, blue sky and meadow flowers, loomed for a single instant and then vanished.
"Wow! Mr. Ollivander...this wand – it's like its alive!"
Sirius, who had been in this store on numerous occasions, was surprised to see a faint shift in the normal, placid expression of Ollivander's face; almost a smile.
Then Ollivander turned to Harry.
"Mr. Potter, it seems quite foolish to let the purported Chosen One leave my shop without trying my finest wands. I did not bring them with me the night you purchased your wand; it is not...permitted...that they should leave the shop. It was with the intention of having you try them that I requested you visit me here; if you will, Mr. Potter..."
One at a time, Harry lifted each of the shining wands from their case, and was surprised to feel a flicker of energy moving through the first; none of the wands besides his parents', which had become the one Ollivander had made especially for him, had felt like anything more than a piece of dead wood in his hands.
The second wand he touched, the wand that Dudley had not tried, sent forth a brilliant illumination that coated the walls of the shop in drips and globs of silver and white light so intense they appeared liquid. Moonlight blossomed and became sun; the odor of snow and incense and crisp, sharp pine flamed outwards, and then collapsed.
Harry had to agree with Dudley – the wand felt alive in his hands, vibrating with power, with will; this was a wand that wanted to change the world.
Sirius, standing alone behind the two children, looked down at them in surprise and pleasure. He had seen that box of wands before; his brother Regulus had received the offer to try the wands in it, and had been disappointed not to be chosen by one...and more disappointed still to learn that not all the gold in the vaults of the House of Black could buy one since that was the case.
There was no doubt about it now, though – Ollivander was smiling, and it was a surprisingly pleasant expression.
"Well, Mr. Potter...I think I have no choice but to let that wand stay in your possession, it would be very displeased if I did otherwise."
And then, unexpectedly, he looked up and gazed with piercing eyes slitted to crescent moons at Neville, standing unassumingly beside his grandmother, startled and awed by the play of magic he had just witnessed.
"Mr. Longbottom – would you mind coming forward? After all, there are three wands – and three boys in front of me, who did not, I think, assemble by chance."
That was all he would say, but for once, Augusta forbore from interfering with protective impulses as Neville stepped hesitantly forward and reached out with trembling fingers for the third wand. Her eyes had locked with Ollivander's; she saw knowledge in them, somehow, the knowledge of the secret which she bore alone.
Is Neville special after all?
Her grandson's eyes were so tightly shut – in anticipation or fear – that he did not even see the light at first; it was his grandmother's sudden intake of breath that made him open them.
Green, green as newborn spring, and grey as a thundercloud, grey as a rainy day. The scent of rich earth and growing things; immersion in cloud-odor, in the damp taste of fog. The scent of life singing – then it was gone.
The look of pleasure on Ollivander's face had intensified into something definite now, and he nodded slowly as he laid the top back on the empty box, and put it away.
"So...you are chosen, and now I will tell you what you hold. Those wands are brothers – once, they were owned by brothers. You must be like brothers yourselves to be worthy of them, to use them properly. I was told that their wood came from Yggdrasil, and that is the Tree of Life. They cannot bear to be used against each other, and they will not bear the weight of death. Mr. Potter, the core of your wand contains a hair from the mane of the Chimera."
"Wow..."
"Mr. Evans, your wand contains a scale from the tail of the Hydra."
Dudley looked at his wand with wide eyes.
"And you, Mr. Longbottom, possess a wand with the sap of Yggdrasil itself as its core."
Sirius looked impressed by these bits of information; the boys, and Dudley especially, looked ecstatic to be getting, not just wands, but really cool wands – and now Harry had two. Neville was more shocked than the other two; not only had a wand actually chosen him (something he had been secretly doubting), but a wand that was a brother to Harry Potter's wand?
The boys were therefore disappointed when Ollivander reached out and took all three wands back, placed them in long boxes and then handed two of them to Sirius and one to Augusta Longbottom.
"Mr. Black, Madam Longbottom - if I may...I would recommend you keep these wands for when the boys need them. The boys will find they work best together...and for the purposes they were made for."
Sirius paid eight galleons for the wand of Mahogany and Thestral hair that was to be Dudley's everyday wand and fifty galleons each for the others. With a bow, Ollivander let them out of his shop; Harry, Dudley, and Neville locked eyes for a moment, and then Harry grinned, and waved.
"'Find another good wand! And write us – I remember you sent me a present, once; so we're friends, okay, Neville? Bye!"
Somewhat shy in the presence of other wizards, Dudley, too, waved.
"Um...nice to meet you! Bye, Neville."
Neville was almost too shocked too wave back.
Friends? Harry Potter...wants to be friends? With me?
His tears from earlier in the day were forgotten; as he tried dozens of wands, he kept his eye on the one in his grandmother's hands, reminding himself that he was magic, that he was not a squib, that he could be special -
Until he finally found a wand amidst the piles of Ollivander's more ordinary stock.
"Ten and one quarter inches, Whomping Willow, with a core of sap from the same tree. An interesting choice, Mr. Longbottom – or rather, how interesting that it chose you."
Outside, Harry and Dudley blinked in the sunlight, and Dudley was ecstatically pleased to be allowed to keep his wand, just as Harry was. Sirius showed them how to keep a wand in the holster that was a part of every wizard's robe, and then looked between the two of them, tapping a finger on his lip thoughtfully.
"So – that's the most important thing, and the main reason for our trip, but we've got a whole day ahead of us. Let's see...it's only eleven o'clock, but you two were up early; shall we go to Flourish and Blott's and then stop at Fortescue's for lunch? Then we'll have the afternoon to find some brooms."
He was answered by enthusiastic nods.
Flourish and Blott's was only a few steps behind them, and Sirius was pleased to see Harry rush off at once between the shelves. He had never seen so many magic books in one place before! Dudley, on the other hand, was confused. He had never enjoyed reading much, preferring to play with toys or video games, or to watch TV. The books he had been forced to read for his primary school classes were always dull.
But he was holding out hope simply because these were, as Sirius had said, magic books. Books that were magical, books that could teach him magic...
Idly, he wandered over to a section that was brightly colored; most of the books were bound in brilliant green or blue leather, and he reached into his pocket and drew out the money his father had given him before he left home. Thirty pounds – he wondered how much stuff that would buy in the wizarding world? He was surprised by Sirius' sudden presence behind him.
"Dudley, I completely forgot – you've only got muggle money, haven't you?'
Dudley nodded forlornly.
"I should've brought you two to Gringott's right off – but never mind, we can go after lunch. Just grab any books you see and I'll pick them up with Harry's, all right? He's already got half a dozen on the counter."
Dudley grinned, and thanked Sirius profusely; he couldn't help thinking that wizard books must be expensive, but judging from the way Sirius tossed gold coins around, he had to be pretty rich. Maybe it was okay?
Hesitantly, he stuffed the pound notes back in his pocket, and reached out for a book with a bright green cover.
"Wizards Who Lived With Muggles: Excerpts From Lives Of Hidden Genius...hey, that's people like me! Wizards who lived with muggles...I wonder what else is in this section?"
He had stumbled into Ancient Wizarding History, books about the Lost Arts of Magic and the days before the Great Separation, but Dudley was just pleased to know that he wasn't the only wizard to come from non-magic parents. Harry talked about his mother occasionally, and how she had been "muggleborn", but the books were proof that there were lots of other people just like Dudley.
Carefully perusing titles, he found two other books that looked interesting. One was called Dreams of Power: Magic of the Sleeping Mind. He thought learning magic in his sleep would be pretty useful for school; it would mean less studying, right?
The other was a thick, leather bound tome with scuffed edges and worn pages entitled Magic: A History. The title almost put him off, but he looked inside first – and was glad he did. Swirling arabesques of color formed into a title before his eyes; as he flipped a few pages, startling scenes of wizards, magical creatures, and great works of power flashed before him.
The book was big – enormous, actually - and at first he thought it might be too expensive - even though the pictures at the beginning were awesome and he really wanted it. Then he thought about it, and considered the worn condition of the pages and the cover. Maybe it was a used magic book, so it would be less?
Politely, still unsure, Dudley made sure to ask Padfoot about the book – but Sirius only nodded and grinned and lumped it in with the rest of the pile, barely even looking at it. Harry had chosen five books for each of Dudley's, and Dudley saw interesting titles like Charms for the Charming, Beasts: Magical Creatures for the Complete Novice, and Wand-Making: A Historie of the Secrete Arte. There was also a set of five with threatening pirates on their covers, a new series from Magical Adventure Press that starred a Captain with a peg leg and a single eye. As Dudley watched, the Captain clenched a fist and shook it up at him; suddenly, reading seemed much more interesting.
By the time all their books were paid for and packed away, shrunken and tucked into Sirius' pocket, even Harry was ready to leave the bookstore and get to Fortescue's; lunch would be welcome, but more than that was the anticipation of ice cream; glorious ice cream!
Dudley, a connoisseur of sweets, was completely blown away by what the Wizarding World had to offer. In Fortescue's there were sundaes like those he had grown up with, ice cream that was vanilla and chocolate, but also strange flavors that seemed mysterious and wizardly, such as Pumpkin Juice and Dragon's Breath.Otherdishes were labeled with strange effects; Butterbeer Float, Volcanic Brownie Sundae, and something called a Banana Tap Dance.
Completely overwhelmed, both Harry and Dudley trusted to Sirius' recommendation and ordered Volcanic Brownie Sundaes with Weightless Whipped Cream Clouds.
At the entrance to Fortescue's, there was suddenly a loud exclamation of "We want one of those!", and Harry saw two identical red-headed boys pointing at the display of sundaes that had caught his and Dudley's attention. Their mother was quick to scold them, but Harry overheard her tirade and was suddenly struck by a thought: were these his pen-pals?
"Now, you know we're here for your school things, and that -Fred! Stop pointing at other people's food -"
After all, how many identical wizard twins were there, with one twin named Fred?
Harry slid himself out of his booth, and walked across to the two boys and their mother. Seeing who it was that was walking across the Ice Cream Parlor, a great deal of conversation stopped.
"Excuse me..."
"And the next time, I'll bring you right home!"
"Excuse..."
"Yes, dear? What is...oh! My goodness, Harry Potter, you gave me a start!"
Harry blinked, and then shrugged. Once – just once – he would like to have to introduce himself to a wizard or witch; just once!
"Sorry about that ma'am, I didn't mean to startle you; but I wondered...are you two Fred'n George Weasley?"
He peered around her at her sons, and the two red-haired boys exchanged glances, and then grinned.
"That would be us, Harry!"
"Yep! But aren't you a little one! Smaller than Ron you are!"
"Better writing though!"
Harry scowled as their mother – Molly Weasley, he remembered – swatted each of them upside the head.
"Be nice!"
But after a moment, Harry only shrugged and grinned.
"Padfoot says that Potters are always late getting growth spurts, but we catch up eventually, so watch out!"
He looked up at Mrs. Weasley then.
"Thanks for the sweaters and treats on my birthday and Christmas, Mrs. Weasley, they're always really nice - "
With a suspiciously damp-looking smile on her face, Mrs. Weasley dragged Harry into a bone-crushing hug.
"You silly boy! It's the least I can do. Now, you aren't here all alone, are you?"
Harry's no was muffled in her bosom, and she let go of him hastily.
"Sorry, dear. Now, let's see...well, if it isn't Sirius Black! And is that...who is that, dear?"
"Oh – sorry; Mrs. Weasley, my Godfather Padf – Sirius Black, and my Cousin, Dudley Du-"
But Dudley jostled him into silence.
"Dudley Evans, Ma'am. Very pleased to meet you."
Fred and George snickered as Dudley wiped his fingers on a napkin and bent over their mother's hand, but Mrs. Weasley was suitably impressed.
"Well, aren't you the pair of little gentlemen! I know a few boys who could certainly learn a thing or two from you..."
Sirius caught a glimpse of Fred and George making faces at their mother behind her back, and was forced to suppress a chuckle. What a pair!
"Molly, why don't you and your boys sit and have some ice cream with us; my treat!"
Mrs. Weasley shook her head, and then smiled hesitantly.
"I wouldn't want to put you out, Sirius -"
Harry joined in attempting to convince her.
"Come on, Mrs. Weasley! Fred'n George have been my pen pals for years now, but I've never met them before -"
Suddenly surrounded by five boyish pairs of puppy-dog eyes, Mrs. Weasley had no choice but to cooperate with the inevitable.
"All right, all right, I suppose an ice cream wouldn't hurt..."
Dudley slid all the way into the booth, and Harry scooted in beside him, making room for Fred and George while Mrs. Weasley sat next to Sirius.
"Now, let's see...I think I heard you boys yelping about Volcanic Brownie Sundae's – great choice by the way!"
And Sirius signaled Florean for "two more" before Molly could protest about the fact that the Volcanic Brownie Sundae was probably the most expensive item on the menu.
When they came – along with two Butterbeer floats for the adults – all four boys sat with wide open mouths and even wider eyes.
The brownie was Transfigured into the shape of a mountain, while rivers of red but chocolate ice cream flowed slowly down the sides. Somehow, the ice cream had been spelled to both stay cold, and flow like lava; the clouds were whipped cream and cookies-and-whipped-cream in imitation of ash. They stayed floating four inches above the volcano until they were devoured.
Finally, when even Dudley was stuffed and the twins and Harry had resorted to naming their toothpicks and then leaping them off the remnants of their brownie mountains and into the gooey frozen "lava" to their "doom", Sirius and Mrs. Weasley discussed the necessities of each of their respective shopping trips – Quality Quidditch Supplies, Tameran's Toys, and the London Wizarding Zoo were on Sirius' list, while Mrs. Weasley still needed to bring Fred and George to Madam Malkin's, the Apothecary, Nib and Feather (the stationers), and Tidbits and Tomes (the second-hand bookstore).
"And then I mustn't forget to stop at Abbott's and pick up a fish for dinner...Fred, George, remind me before we leave the Alley. Fred – George! Stop that at once -"
Mrs. Weasley had turned away from Sirius just in time to see a toothpick named Ginny go diving headfirst into ice cream lava.
"Now...let's see...Fred, George, where did you put your school lists?"
Two equally crumpled pieces of parchment came out of two pockets.
"Here, mum."
"All right...now, listen carefully. We are going to go to Madam Malkin's, and get the two of you some Hogwarts robes – and then while I do the rest of the shopping, Sirius has offered to watch you along with Harry and Dudley. If you behave in Madam Malkin's then perhaps you can visit the Zoo with them later - if you behave!"
Fred and George exchanged glances and high fives.
"Wicked!"
"Brilliant!"
And then they spoke to Sirius in unison.
"Thanks, Mr. Black!"
Not for the first time, Sirius winced.
"Just call me Sirius, all right boys? Now – we all done here?"
There were nods all around.
"All right! Molly, we'll meet you outside Madam Malkin's...shall we say in half an hour?"
"That should be fine. Fred, George, come along – we'll see you in a bit, Harry, Dudley."
As soon as the twins had left with their mother, Sirius shooed Harry and Dudley out the door and across the street, where a crowd was gathered, as always, around the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies.
"All right...now, you two – and you especially, Harry, knowing what I do about your father and brooms – need to keep two things in mind. One – don't tell Petunia how fast your broom is, and two, don't tell the Weasley boys you're getting new brooms."
Harry nodded, but Dudley looked puzzled.
"I get it about my mum, cause she always looks like she's gonna have a heart attack when we go flying – but why not Fred'n George? Do they not like flying?"
Sirius snorted.
"Not likely. Chances are they're quidditch crazy – that's not the problem. No...it's just that the Weasley's haven't got much money, and they've got seven kids. No reason to make new friends jealous -"
Harry interrupted.
"Hey Dud, y'know how your mum always gives me those lectures about "flaunting" every Christmas?"
Dudley grinned.
"Don't I!"
"Well, it's like that. Since they don't have a lot of new stuff, it'd be rude for us to brag about ours."
"Oh..."
Dudley contemplated this. Harry had known the Weasley's were poor since Fred'n George had explained in a letter two years before how irritated their brother Percy had been to start Hogwarts with their eldest brother's wand. The twins had been more ambitious, and had spent the last three years – since the Percy Incident – saving every bit of pocket money they had in order to be able to purchase their own wands.
"Okay. I won't say anything...but aren't they going to see the brooms anyway? I mean, they're kind of big!"
Harry grinned, and Sirius just winked.
"Magic, Dudley! Don't forget we're wizards."
And with those words, he pushed open the door to Quality Quidditch Supplies, and watched both pairs of eyes go wide and round as saucers.
"Wow - "
"Wicked! Brooms -"
And then they were off. Dudley darted to one wall, where a display of quidditch equipment was constrained in cage of magical force; a pair of Bludgers were wildly bludgeoning, and a tiny, delicately winged Snitch fluttered here and there, occasionally zapping back and forth with such speed that it became a momentary blur.
Harry, on the other hand, had immediately veered toward the best – as in fastest, most streamlined, newest, and definitely most dangerous – broom, and was staring at it with longing in his eyes. The proprietor of the store, sensing both a potential sale and a possible threat to his merchandise, made his way over to the broom's display stand rather quickly.
"Hello, young man, interested in the Starfire, are you?"
Harry nodded, and reached out one hand to run a finger along the perfectly aligned twigs of the broom's tail.
"Ah yes, she's a beauty – made by Cosmos, the creators of the old Silver Arrow...now there was a fine broom, been years since I've seen one of those..."
Sirius strode up behind Harry, sensing that he would soon be needed, and within a very short time he had negotiated a price for, not one, but two brand new Starfire brooms, and had arranged for them to be owled direct to Grim's Playground.
While children laughed and gained friendships, training, and strength, a voiceless spirit of malice wended its way through the country, gathering intelligence, slinking in shadows, combing corners for truths.
It lived it its own thoughts, trapped in a void empty of feeling, empty of light, of color...but it could perceive. It could remember. It could think, and plan...and listen.
Waiting.
Eight...years. So much...time! And still, they do not...come.
Fools!
It is...well...that I trusted...none of them. When I am...enfleshed...once more...
When I am enfleshed...they will...regret it. And this boy...this...remarkable...boy, this...Boy-Who-Lived.
Harry Potter!
I will...destroy him.
A/N: And a whisper of darkness, in the midst of a happy interlude! I'm sure, though I haven't said explicitly, that everyone knows who the "voiceless spirit of malice" is; more next chapter, because it certainly won't end up where you might expect!
Also wands, bookstores, and a mysterious History... keep that in mind folks, we'll see it again sooner rather than later. Oh – and because someone is inevitably going to ask – in this story, there are no such things as Horcruxes. Or rather...let us say that if there was such a thing, it would be very different than what JK has created. Heh. There may, however, be Hallows – I linger on the edge of making them the motivating purpose behind much of the story, since everything JK created Horcruxes for can just as easily (if not more easily) be explained with Hallows.
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