Chapter 10: Wickedness and Whispers

July 31st, 1991

Ollivander's, makers of the finest wands since 382 B.C., was typically the first shop witches and wizards from non-magical backgrounds rushed to in Diagon Alley, yet Harry Potter had avoided the unassuming place like a sinner avoids church. He had glanced curiously inside on occasion, eager to catch a glimpse of a child's first intentional magic, but Harry himself had yet to approach the weathered store front. Until today.

Today was Harry's eleventh birthday, and if anyone in the wizarding world didn't already know that, a walk down the alley would cure them of their ignorance. It was, as far as Harry could tell, the busiest day he had ever witnessed, and the large banner floating above the street was an unnecessary explanation as to why. "Welcome home, Harry Potter." It would seem the wizarding population of Britain was expecting him to show up today. They were not to be disappointed. James Evans would be entering the wandmaker's shop, and Harry Potter would be leaving it soon after. Bracing himself, the most famous eleven-year-old in the world opened the door he had ignored for two years.

The silence was deafening after the roar of the crowd, but Harry Potter much preferred the quiet. It was into this quiet that a man appeared. He looked old enough to be the first wandmaker ever, in Harry's opinion. He didn't realize a person could have so many wrinkles.

"Greetings, Mr. Potter," the relic of a wizard began. "I wondered when you might decide to pay me a visit. Two years you've been here… I was beginning to worry."

"How did you..."

"… know it was you?" he interrupted. "I did not make a life for myself by failing to detect a person's magic. It is how I match wands to their partners. You met my gaze, many months ago, and your magic was plain to see, even if it is not easy to feel. I knew it was you at once - you who were touched by the darkest of curses- for your magic rages within you like the violent sea rages against the shore. I know what today brings for you, Mr. Potter, and you would do well to remember who gave you that scar."

The warning, if it was one at all, was unclear. Harry knew who gave him the scar, he had long ago pressed for answers and gotten them. Voldemort, however, was dead, and Harry couldn't make sense of the old wizard's ominous riddle. How he knew about the ritual was equally unsettling. Harry got the distinct impression that Garrick Ollivander knew a great deal more than he ought to.

"You seem to know a lot, sir, so you must know why I need a wand today."

"Indeed I do. I'm sorry to have to introduce you to your wand in a less than ideal circumstances, but I have a feeling you're used to a bit of adversity."

The man was digging. Harry was really beginning to dislike the strange shopkeeper.

"I need a wand, sir. Being happy about it will just have to wait."

"Very well, Mr. Potter. Let us begin."

And so they did. Mr. Ollivander disappeared into the back of the store, mumbling to himself as he gathered half a dozen boxes. How he made his selection was decidedly impossible to determine, since there were thousands of similar packages haphazardly packed into something meant to resemble aisles. He returned grinning widely, as though the seriousness from before had never been. Laying the boxes on the counter, he invited Harry forward.

"Your situation may be unique, but I have been matching wands for more than a century. I am certain there is a wand here for you, if not in this set. Try them in whichever order feels best."

Harry reached for the third wand in the row, which seemed to amuse the old man opposite him. Harry had never held a wand, and it was with immense disappointment that he felt nothing out of the ordinary upon raising this one. The second and fifth wands failed to react any differently.

Picking up the first wand in line almost had Harry leaping back in shock. He had felt something! He focused on the feeling and frowned. It was mildly irritating, like a buzzing in his ears, or the incessant mumbling of an aged merchant. That wouldn't do. He set the wand down. Four down, two left.

If Harry had been irritated by the previous wand, the following two were almost enough to make him ill. Ollivander's excitement at his negative reactions did little to improve Harry's mood.

"Curious! very curious... I had my suspicions, of course, when you chose the third wand first. I ordered them in order of their creation. Three is a mildly magically significant number, and it was the first you sought out. That particular wand is also twenty-one centimeters in length, another significant number. Of the remaining wands, both two and five are prime numbers most commonly used in arithmancy, and each is exactly twenty-nine centimeters in length, yet those were passive. It is the fact that the others reacted negatively to your presence that suggests my suspicions are correct. The wands are recognizing their role as conduits for your magic, and only a magically powerful wand will do. A true partner wand, acting in concert with your own magical core."

Some of that made sense to Harry, especially the bit about the old man being suspicious. The rest made no sense at all. Still, Ollivander was undeterred. He left and returned with a seventh wand, and the haunting, serious mask was once more in place.

"The seventh wand, measuring twenty-one centimeters. It is one half of a pair, sold fifty-three years apart, and the other has already left its mark upon you. I doubt you'll find a more suitable wand in all of Britain."

Harry reached out, imagining he could almost hear the wand asking to join him. Skin met polished holly and, like a hot knife thrust into his hand, Harry felt the wand reach through to meet his magic. It was foreign, and yet Harry could feel something within him accept the intrusion.

"Beware that wand, Mr. Potter, for it will seek out its brother as surely as the brother will seek you. It is not always clear why, but the wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter. Be glad such an exceptional one chose you."

"This wand's brother... it belonged to Voldemort?"

"It did. The question we must ask is whether or not its loyalties have changed."

Harry left the shop burdened by more worries than he had entered with, and the day was far from over.

Harry didn't return Lupin's smile when he met his eyes. He hadn't wanted anyone present for the wand selection, in case it didn't work. Harry knew Moony well enough to know he would have stayed till Harry had been matched with a wand no matter how long it took, but it was far more difficult for the kindly werewolf to hide his annoyance whenever things went poorly for Harry. "Protective instinct," he had called it.

Seeing the wand in Harry's hand, and noting the unmatched facial expression, Remus knelt in front of Harry. It had long ago become apparent that Harry would keep his eyes downcast when giving bad news, so Lupin simply changed his own perspective so he could see his son's face.

"What's wrong, cub?"

"Mr. Ollivander sold me a wand like Voldemort had, and he was kind of creepy about it too."

Among the many other things Remus loved about Harry was his tendency to give straight answers. He rarely brushed things off like other children, or adults for that matter, might have. That was in part due to Harry's instinct to answer direct questions immediately to avoid confrontation, but regardless of its origins, it did make parenting easier.

"Is the wand a good match? I know you'd rather not have another connection to that madman, but today depends a great deal on you trusting that wand to focus your magic."

"The wand is brilliant. Really it is... I can't explain why, but it already feels like a part of me."

Lupin nodded knowingly. "That is how it should be. A wand is more than a tool, it should be an extension of the wizard who holds it."

It was unfortunate that Harry's wand selection, which ought to have been a joyous occasion as it was for other young magicals, was little more than a necessary errand to prepare for the ritual scheduled later that day. Still, Harry was happy with the results, as he could feel the barely restrained power whenever he focused on the newest proof of his dormant arcane talents.

As Harry reclaimed his mokeskin bag from Remus, Balthazar emerged from his special pocket and joined his master and friend to offer what encouragement he could.

"I can senssse the connection you share with that wand. I felt it from the moment you took hold of it in the shop, though I did not know then what was happening. I felt ssstrange... almossst as if I had touched your magic for the first time myself. Whatever those banking warriors sssay, I will be with you for the ritual. It is my magic as much as yours now."

With the promised assistance of the goblins, his new wand, and Moony and Balthazar by his side, Harry was feeling quite confident that today's main event would be a resounding success. He could only hope that the Fates were on his side.

Whispers rippled through the crowd in Diagon Alley as Harry Potter made his way to Gringotts bank. The ripple of sound quickly became a wave, and as Harry heard his name echoing in strange voices all around him, he froze. He took a breath to steel himself, stood a bit taller, and smiled pleasently at the people around him. Moony had warned him that his real identity would draw unwanted attention, but Harry hadn't realized just how fast his presence in the alley would be noticed. He and Moony were only halfway to the bank and already the crowd closing in had completely blocked their path.

Moony, though usually shy himself, sensed Harry's growing discomfort and took control of the situation as best he could.

"Excuse me, sir," he addressed the man closest to them, "do you think you could help Harry and myself get to Gringotts? He has an appointment quite soon and we wouldn't want to offend the goblins on our first visit."

"Of course! I'd be delighted to escort you there myself. And if I may, Mr. Potter, I'd like to wish you a very happy birthday."

"Thank you, Mister...," Harry left the thought unfinished.

"Hopkins. Laurence Hopkins, at your service. My daughter Laurel looks forward to meeting you at Hogwarts, Mr. Potter. Do say hello if you see her. She'll be in your year. A Hufflepuff, to be sure."

"I will. Thank you, Mr. Hopkins."

The three pushed through the crowd, with Laurence leading the way, with Harry and Remus following in his wake. It was fortunate that the crowd minded its manners, as no one reached toward Harry as he passed. Harry smiled pleasantly as he went, until they arrived at the base of the steps leading to the entrance of the bank. The sense of foreboding that Harry had thus far fended off now weighed heavily on his mind, causing his smile to falter. This would be his first time entering the bank since the fateful meeting nearly two years ago. Only Moony's hand on his shoulder kept Harry moving up toward the door.

A stout goblin approached the pair as soon as they thanked Mr. Hopkins and stepped through the double doors.

"Follow me, please, Mr. Potter. The Council of Elders is waiting in the ritual chamber."

The duo followed the nameless goblin past the tellers and account managers' rooms, through a series of passageways, until they reached a stone door at least twice as tall as Lupin. Though slightly smaller than the precious metal doors, this one clearly held more significance. Harry and Remus both shuddered as they crossed the threshold.

"Well done, humans. You would have died just now if you wished the Nation harm."

"Thanks for the warning," Remus grunted.

A new, more feminine voice interrupted any further discussion.

"Welcome, child of man. Welcome, child of the moon."

Harry's eyebrows lifted as he heard the goblin in the center of the assembled elders speak. He had never seen or heard a female goblin, nor had he been able to learn much about them from Bill, who could only say that males outnumbered female goblins ten-to-one in most places.

"Greetings, Chieftess. We are honored to share your stone today." The greeting came from Harry, as this was his meeting, and age mattered little to goblins. To share stone with a goblin was simply the expression used to express thanks as a guest within the subterranean city.

Harry's familiarity with their culture garnered no reaction from the goblins, though the lack of reaction was scarcely indicative of their thoughts on the matter. Any goblin was difficult to read, it was expected that the elders would be even more so.

"Have you returned to us for aide, Mr. Potter? The offer only stands today, and no further."

"I have indeed come to seek the aid of the Goblin Nation, Chieftess, having acquired a wand and having aged to my eleventh year, as agreed."

The formal language was strange coming from Harry, but he carried himself with as much dignity as a child could muster.

"We shall begin immediately. Only those of us with direct involvement may remain. The rest may watch from beyond the ward line."

At her instruction, all but three of the elders departed to the anteroom. The unnamed goblin who had escorted them pushed Remus roughly in the same direction.

"It will be okay Harry. Just trust your magic, and it will do the rest."

Harry's jaw was clenched too tightly to respond. He settled for a stiff nod.

The remaining goblins approached and formed a triangle, with Harry in its center.

"Disrobe. Leave everything but your wand." Harry did as he was told, forcing down his shame as the rough scarring on his chest drew the eyes of the elders.

In the anteroom, the mood darkened considerably.

One of the elders, a male, spoke up. "I had heard of the boy's battles... I doubted the truth of his pain. I do not doubt him now. The Nation commends Mr. Potter's strength of mind and body. He will stand proudly in our presence." Clasping his hands, the elder spoke in his native tongue. Others soon joined him, focusing on Harry as they did so. Remus watched as Harry's posture shifted slowly from the meek child he so often became when his past was revealed to the proud young man he would one day become.

"A great curse has been lifted from his mind. He will be ashamed of his strength no longer."

Lupin's eyes misted. "Thank you. You have done what I could not as his parent."

"We have done something no father should be asked to do, Mr. Lupin. Your thanks is welcome, but not required. We have only hastened his acceptance of his past, something you were helping with greatly, I am sure."

The arrival of a familiar redhead distracted Remus, and his elation increased as he called out his welcome.

"Bill! Whatever are you doing here? I thought you were on assignment in Cairo."

"I was until this morning, when I received an invitation to watch the ritual. The letter contained a portkey, which dropped me just outside of the bank." He looked to where a naked Harry now lay shivering on the cold stone floor. "How is he?"

"Already quite changed, thanks to the elders."

Before Bill could clarify what his lupine friend meant, he was silenced by the nearest goblin. The ritual had begun.

Harry felt cold. Colder than he had ever felt in his life, even given his experience with shoveling snow in sub-zero temperatures. He knew the instant the ritual began, because he simply stopped feeling even the slightest chill.

The healers, if they were doing anything at all, were doing it silently. Harry could hear his heart beat, could feel the blood pushing through his veins, could trace his awareness of every part of his body, as if observing it for the first time.

Into this awareness came another force. It was the familiar hum of his magic, muted slightly by its restraints. It joined with his mind, seeking a weakness in the binding. The wand. Find the wand, Harry thought, and his magic responded. Like a great snake uncoiling from his chest, the magic sought out the breach Harry had felt earlier that day.

An image filled Harry's mind, showing a white snake facing a larger black adversary, and beyond them a glimpse of the outside world. The black creature filled Harry with dread. It was not meant to be here with his magic. The white snake turned toward Harry, sensing his presence, and seemed to seek his permission to proceed. Acceptance. The snake struck with all its might, and the enemy responded in kind.

With great haste, the three elders in the chamber threw up magical shields around themselves as wild magic beat violently against them, and the fragile silence of the chamber was broken by a sudden, tortured scream.

Chaos reined in the antechamber.

Sharpened axes appeared in the hands of each goblin, summoned by foreign magic.

Remus found himself hurled against the nearest wall, a gleaming blade pressed to his throat, and the fiercest goblin he had ever seen wielding it. Next to him, he sensed Bill in a similar predicament.

"How dare you! You would bring a possessed child into our most hallowed halls, when we have offered our aid? Give me one reason not to wet my blade with your treacherous blood!"

Lupin couldn't respond, his eyes were glued to the visage of his son's agonized thrashing. What on earth had gone wrong? There was absolutely no chance of Harry being possessed. He had not suffered any loss of memory, and his behavior was consistent. By all things sacred... it couldn't be... "Voldemort," he finished in a whisper.

"Indeed. That young man is now fighting for control of his body, nay, his very soul, against what is by all accounts a superior force. Should he fail, none in your party will leave this place alive." Goblins did not practice vagueness in their threats.

Bill tried to reason with the livid council members. "We couldn't have known. The binding prevented all magical scans and no possession could have passed through. Whatever Voldemort did to Harry occurred before the binding was in place. Likely the same night he survived the Killing Curse."

"It matters little, curse-breaker. There are only two possible outcomes: Harry subdues the invading magic, taking it as his own, or the Dark Lord rises, more powerful than before."

"Harry will pull through," Moony argued. "You said it yourself that his strength is beyond doubt. I'll not start doubting him now." In silence, Remus prayed that he was right. If not, he doubted he'd care much what the goblins did to him. He would rather die than live knowing he had failed his son.

If pain had a color, it would be black. Black like the snake biting deep into Harry's own magic. Black like the nothingness that threatened to overcome Harry's ability to fight on. Yet fight he did, lending strength to his magic through shear force of will. His magic reeled back, preparing one last attack, and sent pure white fangs into the skull of dark magic. The blackness faded away, and the white snake grew in size, its battle won.

Harry heard a soft sigh as he felt the binding shatter under the efforts of his new found magical strength. Whispers like a faraway crowd flitted through Harry's mind, urging him to come closer.

Harry Potter opened his eyes, both sparkling brightly with magic, free at last.

In the anteroom, Remus and Bill sagged against the wall in relief, and the goblin elders lowered their weapons. There were still questions to be answered. but Harry was okay, and for now that was enough.

A/N: Well that took... forever. But, hey, its done now. The amount of work I've been doing recently for school really ought to be illegal. Please leave reviews, if y'all have comments, suggestions etc. My Inbox is always open for lengthier responses if you prefer that.

I've been asked why this story is marked as Harry/Multi. A quick look at my profile should answer that, but to be clear, Harry will eventually enter a polyamorous relationship (Not at all reminiscent of a harem. More along the lines of what you'd find in Whispers in the Night by Jean11089). The next chapter, working title "Contractual Obligations" will explore this theme in greater detail. Feel free to suggest partners, though my ideas are pretty solid already, and therefore unlikely to change without excellent persuasion by my dear readers.

Cheers,

DamWaters