Disclaimer: I own nothing, I swear! I'm neither rich nor British.
HELLO, MY BEAUTIFUL LOVELIES!
HATER WARNING: IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, DON'T READ IT, AND KEEP YOUR 'MOUTH' SHUT.
To the rest of you, the ones who actually enjoy fanfictions, I love you all, and I apologize for the above, and as much as I hate doing this, I must say this: I love CONSRUCTIVE CRITCISM, however, insults and nasty comments will be used to blast the sender instead. I give you fair warning, I am a MASTER at mind games, and screwing with people's heads. I've had people THANK me for insulting them/setting them straight. I will not refute so kindly again. I can and will get worse. if I must. I don't appreciate meanness. And BTW's I'll do the same for other authors if they want or if I feel the need. DO NOT THREATEN ME AGAIN UNLESS YOU"RE WILLING TO FOLLOW THROUGH.
Rebel up, don't punk out.
Here be Review Replies:
guardianofdragonlore: don't worry, I'm not insulted. Thanks ;p
Phantom Trainer: yeah, it was intended as a bit of background. And sleep is a very important thing
becca579: all will be revealed soon, young padawan.
Delta General 42: did she? where?
BethyQuake: you're awesome.
P-Webes: yes, it is 5th year.
ramen-luver101: here's lookin' at you, kid.
All of you are awesome, and I have a lot of stuff planned for the next few chapters that will either make you love me or hate me.
AND FOR YE WHO POINTED IT OUT: I'm so sorry, see, when I'm writing these chapters, I'm either looking at another read the book fic so the words are on my laptop screen instead of trying to manhandle my book and type at the same time, or I'm just talking to my friend, and random names find their way in. I try to change them all back to 'Hari' but sometimes I miss some. Forgive me?
AN: Just so your warned, if you didn't gather from the summary, there will be lots of changes to the books. Most of it will be exact, but I reserve the right to play with it as much as I want. I understand some of it may seem unrealistic, but hey it's fan-FICTION, it doesn't have to be completely realistic. I will update as often as possible, enjoy! I would love constructive criticism, if you don't mind.-Fly On, Fly Strong, Fly Forever, Fly High, Fight Hard, Live Free
And I hope that this helps reading. I tried to separate the book from the rest.
IMPORTANT: I'm making Sherlock 25. He met Hari when he was a 15 year old druggie, and cleaned himself up. She was 5.
PS: I don't know why I did it. I don't know how it happened. I tried to write it out, and it kept getting bigger. So I gave up. I'm sorry. If you think it shouldn't be there, if it's an unwanted crossover, I'll get rid of it. But I was watching Sherlock, and then my brother wanted to watch a certain movie, and… this happened. Don't kill me?
Previously:
As I soothed the little creature, he explained what was happening at Hogwarts, and I saw red. I was furious. I asked him if he could take us, and he nodded. "Yous must hold onto Dobby, sir."
We all grabbed on, and with a loud crack, we disappeared, reappearing right outside a pair of large, ornate gates. Dobby escorted us through, and we found Hari rather quickly. However, after Hari left the hall, I find myself in an disagreement with some of the in-bred dull beings, and sought to prove my point. After Hari had let off some steam, we all headed back to the castle, the adults rather wisely not saying anything, and I fingered the large manila envelope in my pocket.
I would tell her later. Right now, she needed me, and all of her friends and family, as we prepared to face the Great Hall of Horrors once more.
CH: 10
Sherlock swept into the hall yet again, at the head of the group. Most everyone was already gathered, and the now rather large group settled into various couches and mattress that were conjured, laden with pillows and blankets. Neville plopped down beside Hari, who was currently attempting to convince Sherlock to let her wear his coat as she turned one of the mattresses into a 'fainting couch'. Sirius and Snape were forced onto the same couch, though they were resolutely staying on opposite ends. Sherlock's group were all perched in various chairs, and cushion piles.
The three adult Dursleys were no longer in the room, having been escorted to an antechamber instead, with an audiovisual link to the Great hall, as they figured that that was probably a better idea.
Hari eventually got the coat, and tossed her robes at Sherlock so she could wear the coat. There wasn't much difference in the way the robes hung on her and the way the coat hung on her, except that her robes were tailored so she could use her hands. She giggled happily as she went through his pockets, and he neatly folded her robes.
Eventually they settled in and Mr. Weasley was given the book to read the next chapter. He cleared his throat, and began:
Hari woke early the next morning. Although she could tell it was daylight, she kept her eyes shut tight.
"It was a dream," she told herself firmly.
"I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for magic. When I open my eyes I'll be at home in my cupboard."
Her little group just looked at her sadly. She stared challengingly back at them, until she found Sherlock's gyroscope. She deliberately used that as an excuse to not look at any of them, not in the mood for pity or sympathy. They took the hint and looked away.
There was suddenly a loud tapping noise.
And there's Aunt Petunia knocking on the door, Hari thought, her heart sinking. But she still didn't open her eyes. It had been such a good dream,
Sherlock sighed. "I thought I taught you better than that, Hari?"
She shrugged. "You also taught me to be suspicious and to question everything, and to always double-deduce."
He nodded, absently ruffling her hair as he plucked the notebook from her(his) pocket. She dodged his hand and scowled at him.
Tap. Tap. Tap
"All right," Hari mumbled, "I'm getting up,"
She sat up sand Hagrid's heavy coat fell off her. She blinked owlishly as she was blinded, and shoved on her glasses.
There was much sniggering as she pouted and rolled her eyes, smacking her friends lightly. They were laughing the hardest as that happened nearly every morning.
The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.
Hari scrambled to her feet, so happy she felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside her. She was ecstatic! What would Sherlock think when she told him? Though she had a feeling he, Myc, and Lestrade already knew about magic.
She looked over at them. They looked back.
"Did you?" she demanded, crossing her arms. Mycroft nodded, Sherlock cocked his head, before shaking it 'no', and Lestrade held his hands up in surrender before shaking his own head.
She went straight to the window and jerked it open, feeling sorry for the poor thing. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat. Startled, Hari shouted, "Don't do that."
Hari tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped its beak fiercely at her and carried on savaging the coat.
There were giggles around the room. "Prophet owls are trained to do that until they get their money."
Hari blinked at Remus. "Are you serious? They train their owls to attack?"
"No! I'm not Sirius! He is!" Remus cried, pointing an accusing finger at Sirius. Hari simply rolled her eyes and flopped back against Neville's side. He grunted and then sighed at the impact, but it wasn't very hard. He wrapped an arm around her, as he could tell she was getting wiggly and restless again.
"Hagrid!" said Hari loudly. "There's an owl—"
"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.
"She won't know what you mean, Hagrid," Molly sighed.
"I know. I was tryin' ter get 'er used to wizardin' money," he said. He received several startled looks.
"Good idea Hagrid," McGonagall praised warmly. He flushed and offered them a bashful smile.
"What?"
"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets,"
Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets – bunches of keys, slug pellets,
Hagrid got some strange looks, but he waved them off by saying gruffly, "I'm the Keeper of the Keys and Grounds. I nee' a lot of things."
balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags … finally, Hari pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins. She noted that the vicious winged creature had gone still, finally.
Ron, Hermione, and Neville were giggling helplessly, having found out why Hari disliked Prophet owls so much. It was a well known fact that she couldn't stand the things, preferring to call them 'winged rats' and ignore them after she'd paid. They'd assumed it was because of Hedwig, but apparently not. She smacked them all on the back of the head, and sulked, moodily making the gyroscope 'walk' up and down the string.
"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.
"Knuts?" Unbidden, a picture of a squirrel arose in her mind in a purely ADD moment.
This had many muggleborns laughing, as they too had thought of something similar upon their introduction to wizarding money. Those who had grown up in the wizarding world rolled their eyes, having never really thought about it before then.
"The little bronze ones." She noted that the names of wizarding currency were nothing like what she was accustomed to.
Hari counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Hari could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.
Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched. Hari was disgruntled for a second, before realizing that he was probably just introducing her to the money.
Hagrid beamed at her, and Sherlock stopped scribbling in his notebook long enough to smile approvingly at her before going back to his hasty scrawls.
"Best be off, Hari, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."
Hari was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them starting work on an entire wing of her mind palace for the wizarding world, with the feeling she would need much, much more, mulling over a problem. She had just thought of something that made her feel as though the happy balloon inside her had got a puncture.
"Um— Hagrid?"
"Mm?" said Hagrid, who was pulling on his huge boots.
"I haven't got any money – and you heard Uncle Vernon last night … he won't pay for me to go and learn magic." She wasn't about to ask Sherlock, Mycroft, or Lestrade. They'd try to get her away from the Dursleys, and they always got so upset when they couldn't, even with all Mycroft's power. She couldn't bear seeing them like that.
Donovan snorted rudely, before compulsively checking her phone for the 63rd time, only to frustratedly shove it back into her pocket when it still didn't work. She wanted to update some of her 'friends' on the latest Freak Gossip and Scandal. She sighed, and then mentally laughed over that little bit. The Freak didn't have feelings. And Lestrade didn't deserve to be DI, not if he was consorting with Freaks and unnatural little girls.
Meanwhile, Lestrade sighed and reached out to ruffle Hari's hair. Sherlock and Mycroft barely seemed phased by that. Sirius looked over at them and frowned. He was afraid that they would take Hari away from him. But… he wasn't exactly fit to care for her, for anyone, was he? Maybe he should take custody, then relinquish her to these men? They seemed to care for her, and the Family Magics weren't reacting to them, so they were no threat to her... Maybe they'd let him visit her…
He shifted in his seat, and Snape glared at him, snapping at him to sit still. He wiggled more just to irritate him. Then Remus glared him into sitting still.
"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching, his head. "D' yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"
"But if their house was destroyed—"
"They didn't keep their gold in the house, girl! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards' bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold – an' I wouldn' say no the a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither.
Hagrid was graced with several approving looks, as, reminded of food, John produced a couple of granola bars. He unwrapped one and shoved it into Sherlock's hand, who began to eat it automatically as Mrs. Hudson clucked approvingly. Another was thrust into Mycroft's hand, and he too unconsciously began to eat. John felt proud as he shoved the rest back into his pocket. It'd taken him, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson months to figure out how best to keep those two fed. Now he just needed to give Hari a check up...
"Wizards have banks?" Idiot. She mentally smacked herself. Of course they do.
"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."
Hari dropped the bit of sausage she was holding.
"Goblins?"
"Yeah – so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Hari. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe—' cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business" Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me ter do important stuff fer him. Fetchin' you— gettin' things from Gringotts— knows he can trust me, see. Got everythin'? Come on, then."
Hari followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.
"How did you get here?" Hari asked, looking around for another boat.
"Flew," said Hagrid.
"Flew!"
"Yeah - but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now that I've got yeh."
They settled down in the boat, Hari still staring at Hagrid, trying to imagine him flying.
"If you took the boat, how did they get back?"
"I… I actually… don't know…" Hari looked over at Dudley who had taken a cautious seat at the edge of her group. "How did you lot get home?"
"Mom and Dad managed to flag down a coastguard boat who was passing. They weren't to happy about them letting you go off with a stranger. They had to pay a fine and everything."
Hari nodded, a bit vacantly. Hermione sighed and said exasperatedly, "Oh, honestly Hari! Coast Guard is the people who patrol the beaches. That's elementary school stuff!"
Hari gave her a sheepish grin, and rubbed the back of her neck.
"Seems a shame ter tow, though," said Hagrid, giving Hari another of his sideways looks. "If I was ter - er - speed things up a bit, would yeh mind not mentionin' it at Hogwarts?"
"Of course not," said Hari, eager to see more magic. She got an odd sort of thrill whenever it happened. Hagrid pulled out the pink umbrella again, tapped it twice on the side of the boat, and they sped off toward land.
"Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?" Hari asked.
"TEN GALLEONS SAYS THEY ROB IT BEFORE THE END OF THE BOOKS!" Fred and George bellowed.
"NO WAY! THEY'LL TRY AND THEY'LL FAIL!" Theodore Nott protested.
"THEY WON'T BE FOOLISH ENOUGH TO TRY!" Cho exclaimed. This sparked an all-out betting war between the students, and once the professors saw that they would not be deterred, they set up an official betting pool for any bet that cropped up in the books, with a house-elf as 'banker' and 'bet recorder'. Mercifully, Gyver was given one of the dict-a-quills and lockboxes used for official Quidditch betting, so he only had to look after everything, as it pretty much did everything itself. Some of the adults got in on the betting as well, while Hari sat there looking offended and dumb-founded.
"Does everyone think that I am that stupid, as to willingly try and rob Gringotts?"
"It's not that we think you're stupid Hari," Seamus explained with a shrug. "It's just that you lot have really rotten luck, and always get into the worst, most impossible situations. Especially you, miss 'I'll-go-waltzing-off-into-the-most-dangerous-situation-I-can-find-with-no-plan-no-backup-no-chance-just-a-wand-and some-friends-and-somhow-i'll-get-out-of-it-by the-skin-of-my-teeth-in-more-or-less-one-piece-and-save-the-day.'"
Hari stared at him for a long moment, before making a noise that was half huff, half shriek, and flopping dramatically onto the fainting couch, pulling out a fountain pen and a notebook, muttering to herself.
Several people stared between her and Sherlock in bemusement. Once the uproar died down, Mr. Weasley cleared his throat again, and resumed.
"Spells - enchantments," said Hagrid, unfolding his newspaper as he spoke. "They say there's dragons guardin' the high-security vaults.
Charlie turned to his older brother witha an indignant look, mouth open and ready to continue their longtime argument, but Bill cut him off, hands raised defensively. "I. Don't. Know. The goblins only let goblins work on vault security with the families. I'm a cursebreaker, not a goblin."
Charlie huffed, crossed his arms, and turned his attention back to his father.
And then yeh gotta find yer way - Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. Yeh'd die of hunger tryin' ter get out, even if yeh did mange ter get yer hands on summat."
Hari sat and thought about this while Hagrid read his newspaper, the Daily Prophet. Hari had learned from Uncle Vernon that people (except Sherlock) liked to be left alone while they did this, but it was very difficult, she'd never had so many questions in her life. She bit her tongue and stared.
"Ministry o' Magic Messin' things up as usual,"
"I-We-I- WE DO NOT!" Fusdge sputtered. He was given several looks, and he shut up, though he was a brilliant red.
Hagrid muttered, turning the page.
"There's a Ministry of Magic?" Hari asked, before she could stop herself. She'd supposed that the government knew about magic and policed it… she'd have to ask Mycroft.
"Well, he is the British government," Sherlock drawled, barely glancing up.
"When he's not too busy being the British Secret Service," Hari chimed in.
"Or the American CIA, on occasion," Lestrade muttered.
"Or every MI known to man," John laughed.
Several students were staring at Mycroft in shock. "Oh, for heaven's sake! That is not true! I occupy a minor position in the government!"
"'Course," said Hagrid. "They wanted Dumbledore fer Minister, o' course, but he'd never leave Hogwarts, so old Cornelius Fudge got the job. Bungler if ever there was he pelts Dumbledore with owls every morning, askin' fer advice."
"But what does a Ministry of Magic do?"
"Nothing!"
"Lie!"
"Cover up!"
"Run!"
"Take bribes!"
There was an outbreak of laughter as people stared calling out different things. Even the ministry employees (sans Fudge, and Umbridge who still hadn't turned up) joined in with the fun. Fudge went steadily redder and redder.
"Well, their main job is to keep it from the Muggles that there's still witches an' wizards up an' down the country."
"Why?"
"The 'Why Game' Hari? Really?" Remus asked. Hari, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Sherlock, Mycroft, Lestrade, the 'Claws, Sirius, Moody, Tonks, and the majority of the professors all shot up straight with an indignant cry, only for Remus to burst out laughing. "Hey, I play it too!"
"What is the 'Why Game'?" A little pureblood asked. Hari smirked. "Why do you want to know?"
"Because I don't know!"
"Why?"
"Because I've never heard of it before!"
"Why?"
"I don't know!"
"Why?"
"Because I don't!"
"Why?"
"STOP IT!" Hari smiled at him kindly. "And that is the 'Why Game'. Everybody's played it at least once."
"Why? Blimey, Hari, everyone'd be wantin' magic solutions to their problems. Nah, we're best left alone."
At this moment the boat bumped gently into the harbor wall. Hagrid folded up his newpaper, and they clambered up the stone steps onto the street, Hagrid having to all but pick Hari up so she could get out of the boat.
Passerby started a lot at Hagrid as they walked through the little town to the station. Hari couldn't blame them. Not only was Hagrid twice as tall as anyone else, he kept pointing at perfectly ordinary things like parking meters and saying loudly, "See that, Hari? Things these Muggles dream up, eh?"
Hagrid flushed. "Maybe I coul' learn ter be more discee'e."
"Hagrid," said Hari, panting a bit as she ran to keep up, "did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?"
"Well, so they say," said Hagrid. "Crikey, I'd like a dragon."
"You'd like one?" His stride was longer than Sherlock's when he ran!
Hagrid flushed darker and apologized, but Hari just waved him off.
"Wanted one ever since I was kid - here we go."
They had reached the station.. There was a train to London in five minutes' time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to Hari so she could buy their tickets.
"Muggle money has the value written on them, and it has a logical sequential progression, which makes more sense than wizarding coin," one of the 'Claws remarked idly. Many muggleborns and half-bloods agreed fervently. This had Madame Bones deep in thought.
People stared more then ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent.
"Still got yer letter, Hari?" he asked as he counted stitches.
Hari took the parchment envelope out of her pocket.
"Good," said Hagrid. "There's a list there of everything yeh need."
Hari unfolded a second piece of paper she hadn't noticed the night before, and read:
HOGWARTS SCHOOL
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
"We never wear that, except for feasts, so why do we have them?" Colin asked. Most of the students laughed, having found a myriad of uses for them.
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)
Please not that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.
A few students blushed, having had many mix-ups because of not having nametags.
Course Books
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)
by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic
by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory
by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration
by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi
by Phyllida Spore
Magical Droughts and Potions
by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
by Newt Scammander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection
by Quentin Trimble
"Is there any particular reason that their names match their subject of choice, after a fashion?" Lestrade asked. "Or is it just coincidence?"
"Lestra-aaaa-ade!"
"You three stop your whining. Coincidences do exist, You've all acknowledged as much. It does happen, and it's not a bad word." Hari, Sherlock, and Mycroft all graced him with supremely dirty looks, which he ignored.
Other Equipment
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS
"Why is that anyway?"
"Because, Mr. Thomas, NO first year is adequately trained on a broom, hence why flying lessons are mandatory. The reason Miss Potter was exempted because she possesses a rare air affinity, which means that putting her with the rest of you would've caused problems not just for her, but for her classmates as well. So we made the decision to put her on the Quidditch team, and allow the older fliers to handle her lessons," Flitwick replied, in his now deeper voice. There were many nods of understanding.
"Can we buy all this in London?" Hari wondered aloud.
"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.
Hari had been to London before, though it was normally Lestrade's place, or Mycroft's. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way.
He got stuck in the ticket barrier on the Underground, and complained loudly that the seats were too small and the trains too slow.
"I don't know the Muggles manage withought magic," he said as they climbed a broken-down escalator that led up to a bustling road lined with shops.
Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Hari had to do was keep close behind him. They passed book shops and music stores, hamburger restaurants and cinemas, but nowhere that looked as if it could sell you a magic wand. This was just an ordinary street full of ordinary people. Could there really be piles of wizard gold buried miles beneath them?
"Yes!"
Where there really shops that sold spell books and broomsticks?
"YES!"
Might this not all be some huge joke that the Dursleys had cooked up?
"NEVER!" The students were cheerfully exclaiming.
If Hari hadn't known that the Dursleys had no sense of humor, she might have thought so; yet somehow, even though everything Hagrid had told her so far was unbelievable, Hari couldn't help trusting him. Logic reasoned that she shouldn't, but she knew that she'd met him before.
"I've said it many times," Sprout remarked, "your memory is incredible."
"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron It's a famous place."
It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Hari wouldn't have noticed it was there. Except… except she'd been there several times with various combinations of Sherlock, Mycroft, and Lestrade.
There was another outbreak of furtive muttering, and then there was another betting pool on whether or not any of the group had any magical blood or not.
The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Their eyes slid from the big book shop on one side to the record shop on the other as if they couldn't see the Leaky Cauldron at all. In fact, Hari had the most peculiar feeling that only she and Hagrid could see it.
Before she could mention this, Hagrid had steered her inside.
For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in a corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut.
"And once again, Hari Potter's descriptions cause mass hysteria," Lee Jordan proclaimed in his announcer voice as fits of giggling overtook many people.
The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"
"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Hari's shoulder and making Hari's knees buckle.
By now no one would be surprised if you could fry an egg on Hagrid's face, it was so red. Hari, on the other hand, groaned and attempted to hide behind Neville, Ron, and Hermione. They sighed and made sure the cloak wasn't in reach, not that she'd use it when the chances of someone seeing it were so high.
She was banging her head against Hermione's back repeatedly, muttering 'why me?' to herself. It was clear she was less than pleased about what happened next, much to the group's amusement. She growled at them when they laughed, and they shut up.
Except for some sniggering here and there, the room was mostly silent during Hari's 'reintroduction' to the magical world.
"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Hari, "is this - can this be - ?"
The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.
"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Hari Potter . . . what an honor."
He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Hari and seized her hand, tears in his eyes.
"Welcome back, Miss Potter, welcome back."
Hari didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at her. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.
Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment Hari found herself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.
"Doris Crockford, Miss Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."
"So proud, Miss Potter, I'm just so proud."
"Always wanted to shake your hand - I'm all of a flutter."
"Delighted, Miss Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle."
"I've seen you before!" said Hari, as Dedalus Diggle's top hat fell off in his excitement. "You bowed to me once in a shop."
"She remembers!" cried Dedulus Diggle, looking around at everyone. "Did you hear that? She remembers me!"
Hari shook hands again and again - Doris Crockford kept coming back for more.
A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.
"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid.
There were several furious and disgusted growls and dirty looks thrown at the books, and poor Mr. Weasley, who knew why, felt quite victimized and a bit afraid.
There were several more confused and uncertain looks directed toward those who had reacted to that name, as no one knew quite what went down between Quirrel and the Golden Quartet.
"Hari, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."
"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Hari's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."
"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"
"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. Something about he bugged her, but she couldn't quite figure it out. "N-Not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously.
"You'll be g-getting all your equipment, I suppose? I've g-got to p-pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.
But the others wouldn't let Professor Quirrell keep Hari to himself. It took almost ten minutes to get away from them all. At last, Hagrid managed to make himself heard over the babble.
"Must get on - lots ter buy. Come on, Hari."
Doris Crockford shook Hari's hand one more time, and Hagrid led them through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a trash can and a few weeds.
Hagrid grinned at Hari.
"Told yeh, didn't I? Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh - mind you, he's usually tremblin'"
"Is he always that nervous?"
"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some firsthand experience. . . . They say he met vampires in the Black Forest,
There were several derisive snorts.
and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag -
"What kind of trouble do you get into with a hag? They're pretty much peaceful."
never been the same since. Scared of the students now, where's me umbrella?"
Vampires? Hags? Hari's head was swimming. Hagrid, meanwhile, was counting bricks in the wall above the trash can.
"Three up . . . two across . . ." he muttered. "Right, stand back, Hari."
He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.
The brick he had touched quivered - it wriggled - in the middle, a small hole appeared - it grew wider and wider - a second later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid, an archway onto a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight.
Wide grins spread across the face of every single magical in the room. No one ever forgot their first time in Diagon Alley. No matter how old you were, it was still an incredible experience.
"Welcome," said Hagrid, "to Diagon Alley."
He grinned at Hari's amazement.
They stepped through the archway. Hari looked quickly over her shoulder and saw the archway shrink instantly back into solid wall.
The sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons - All sizes - Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver - Self-Stirring - Collapsible,
"Never get collapsible!" Remus warned.
"Why not?"
"Well… let's just say that they collapse at… inopportune moments," he said, rubbing his arm unconsciously from remembered pain.
said a sign hanging over them.
"Yeah, you'll be needin' one," said Hagrid, "but we gotta get yer money first."
Hari wished she had about eight more eyes.
Beside her, Ron flinched at the spider reference, and Hermione patted his shoulder soothingly, as the twins exchanged guilty looks. It was accidental magic, but they still felt bad about what had happened.
She turned her head in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping. A plump woman outside an Apothecary was shaking her head as the passed, saying, "Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce, they're mad. . . ."
Mrs. Weasley flushed as she remembered that it had been her outside the apothecary. But, to be fair, the price had literally doubled overnight.
A low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium - Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy. Several boys of about Hari's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," Hari heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand - fastest ever -". There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments Hari had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels' eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills, and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon. . . .
"Gringotts," said Hagrid.
They had reached a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze door, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was –
"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Hari. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Hari noticed very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time with words engraved upon them:
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath out floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
Several people exclaimed about the poem, and about half of the student body revealed that they loved the poem, and the other half really never thought about it. It was 'just a warning', nothing more. Hari was pro-poem, finding it vastly amusing.
"Like I said, yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it," said Hagrid.
A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid and Hari made for the counter.
"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Miss Potter's safe."
"You have her key, sir?"
"Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter. Scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers.
"He won't like that," Bill muttered, shaking his head.
"Why did Hagrid have Hari's key? Why didn't the Goblins keep it in trust until she came, as I have no doubt that Hari has a significant amount of funds," Mycroft asked.
"As Hari's magical guardian, the key was entrusted to me," Dumbledore replied smoothly.
"And who declared you her magical guardian?"
"Well, after they started a manhunt for Sirius, I took guardianship. The ministry would never allow Remus to raise her, or Andromeda Tonks because she was born a Black, and probably would've put her vaults and personal property under their personal control."
Mycroft gave him a calculating look before turning his attention back to the book.
The goblin wrinkled his nose. Hari watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals.
"Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key.
The goblin looked at it closely.
"That seems to be in order."
"An' I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen."
"And now you've piqued Hari's curiosity," McGonagall muttered to herself.
The goblin read the letter carefully.
"Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you to both vaults. Griphook!"
Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all of the dog biscuits back inside his pockets, he and Hari followed Griphook toward one of the door leading off the hall.
"What's the You-Know-What in vault seven hundred and thirteen?" Hari asked.
"Can't tell yeh that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More'n my job's worth ter tell yeh that."
Hari crumpled in disappointment, then perked up again, determined to figure it out.
"There it is," sighed Lestrade and Remus. Lestrade swiped a hand over his face in fond exasperation, and Remus dropped his head back in resigned, but fond, irritation.
Griphook help the door open for them. Hari, who had expected more marble, was surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downwards and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them. They climbed in - Hagrid with some difficulty - and were off.
At first the just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages, Hari tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible.
"It's impressive you mad it that far on your first go 'round," Bill said. "It's designed to be unmemorizable, the route changes every visit, the cart's speed is set so you can't get a decent look at your surroundings, and so that the constant wind to your face and turn rate will throw you off considerably."
Hari nodded.
"It's actually part of Elite Auror training to try and memorize the layout of Gringotts underground and attempt to plan a break-in. Which, for obvious reasons, is never actually initiated," Kingsley said cheerfully, making many people jump. They had all rather forgotten that he was there until he spoke.
The rattling car seemed to know its own way, because Griphook wasn't steering.
Hari's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but she kept them wide open. Once, she though she saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon,
"It better not have been," Charlie muttered.
but too late – they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and the floor.
"I never knew," Hari called to Hagrid over the noise of the cart, "what's the difference between a stalactite and a stalagmite?"
Several people opened their mouths to deliver a lecture to explain, but were cut off, either by hands clamping over their mouths, or silencios.
"Stalagmite's got an 'm' in it," said Hagrid.
There was an outbreak of lighthearted laughter.
"Only Hagrid," Hermione laughed as Hari, Ron, and Neville laughing heartily. Hagrid grinned good-naturedly and Madame Maxime patted his arm fondly. The Golden Quartet nudged each other and pointed toward the couple.
"An' don' ask me questions just now, I think I'm gonna be sick."
He did look very green, and when the cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage well, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees from trembling.
Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts.
Hari stopped laughing and shifted guiltily in her spot. She still hadn't quite processed what Hermione had told her earlier, but she was all too aware of the fact that her best friend's family, who might as well be her own family, were significantly less well off than her, but they would never take a knut from her. Ron, sensing her discomfort, clapped her on the back in a brotherly way, and the twins winked at her. She grinned at them, before relaxing again.
After all, she knew something they didn't, though she had no doubt that Molly and Arthur suspected.
After all, while Sherlock had expertly trained her to pull things out of a pocket, and drop things in without ever getting caught, eventually they had to have noticed when their money bag was suddenly filled with money.
They never said anything though, just sighed a little, smiled a bit, and carried on.
Arthur glanced over at Hari when she started squirming. He smiled when he saw the exchange between her and the boys. When she smiled, he had to hide one of his own.
He and Molly knew exactly what she had been up to over the years, but they had no proof, and they knew that she would staunchly deny swapping out their money bags and refuse to take it back. Molly always fretted over her after she did that, but he knew that this was the best way that Hari knew to thank them for everything. Like, 'you take care of me, I take care of you,' a lesson that had no doubt been instilled by the Dursleys.
That rankled him, but he now knew that Hari had at least had some respite from them growing up.
"All yours," smiled Hagrid.
All Hari's - it was incredible. The Dursleys couldn't have known about this or they'd have had it taken from her faster than blinking.
Sherlock's pencil snapped and he growled quietly as he fished out a new one from Hari's(his) pocket.
Mycroft and Lestrade clenched their fists. Anderson frowned. clucked disapprovingly. Hari's group started to quietly discuss Fred and George's list.
How often had they complained how much Hari cost them to keep?
"They received five hundred pounds a month for your care," Dumbledore said, frowning. Hari looked startled. Everyone else looked furious.
"Can we just continue?" Hari sighed. Arthur nodded and reluctantly agreed.
Meanwhile, in their little room, the Dursleys were throwing a royal hissy fit. They may have gotten that money monthly (not that it ever went toward Hari), but they felt entitled to that fortune.
They were normal.
They were respectable.
They DESERVED that money.
It wasn't fair that decent, hardworking folk like themselves had to live middle class, and freaks like that were wealthy! One way or another, they vowed that the money would be theirs.
Donovan, on the other hand, had a plan of her own. She had been startled when the girl had turned out to be rich, and then her mind started going a million miles a minute, figuring out how best to get close to the girl. If the girl liked her, she could get her to give her a lot of money. She would do whatever it took, including playing nice with the Freak if she had too. A sly grin worked it's way onto her face.
Anderson had seen Donovan's smile, and it disturbed him. He knew what Donovan was like inside. She was a heartless, self-absorbed…harlot. The only reason he had ever slept with her was because he was lonely, and she had taken advantage of him. His wife had left him for an older, richer man, barely a month after their anniversary. Even a year and a half later it still hurt. He was the only one close enough to Donovan to see her reaction, and silently vowed to keep Donovan away from Sherlock's Hari.
Away to make amends for what he had done to the man he used to respect before that… witch… had gotten her claws into him.
And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to her, buried deep under London.
Hagrid helped Hari pile some of it into a bag.
"The gold ones are Galleons," he explained. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Gallon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle, it's easy enough. Right, that should be enough fer a couple o' terms, we'll keep the rest safe for yeh." He turned to Griphook. "Vault seven hundred and thirteen now, please, and can we go more slowly?"
"One speed only," said Griphook.
Hari grinned wickedly and shouted, "I LOVE THOSE CARTS!"
There was a raucous cheer of agreement from every Quidditch player, daredevil, and adrenaline junkie there. Those with weaker stomachs all groaned and protested loudly. This sparked a massive debate, mediated only by those who had either never been on the carts before or who just really didn't care. Meanwhile, Hari turned to stare aghast at Neville.
"How can you not like the carts?" She demanded.
"Because I have a little sanity left, thank you. And besides, you know I prefer to have my feet firmly planted on the ground," he replied calmly, scooting back from Hari a bit so he could see her properly. He instantly regretted that choice when she graced him with the best kicked puppy look in her repertoire.
"But you fly with me all the time!"
"That's different!"
"Really? How's it different? You're still flying!"
"Yeah, but it's only because I seem to have an inability to say 'no' to you! And besides, I know if I do something stupid, you'll save my behind," he shot back. She huffed.
"Well, duh, like I'd let anything happen to you. But you always seemed to like flying." She slumped a little, and Neville sighed. "I do like flying, but only with you."
"Oh, would you two just kiss already?!" Draco called out over the massive roar of sound currently filling the room. This got everyone's attention on the two, and they proceeded to blush furiously. "Can it, Malfoy."
"I hate to say, Potter, but I agree," Astoria piped up. The entire hall nodded in agreement. Suddenly, Sherlock snapped his notebook shut.
"You will all please turn your attention back to the man with the book, as you are obviously not going to get anywhere with these two. You will leave them be, and not bring that subject back up again." Several students went to protest, only to see several men all glaring at them. Sherlock, Sirius, Mycroft, Remus, Lestrade, Severus, John, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Lee, Viktor, Ron, and Hagrid all looked extremely… unhappy at the thought of Hari kissing anyone, no matter who it was. In fact, they all had their hand on their wands (or guns) in a purely unconscious manner.
Wisely, they all turned silent, dropping their former debate, for now, and their conversation to allow Arthur to read again.
They were going even deeper now and gathering speed.
"I thought it was one speed only," a firstie piped up. "How are they going faster?"
"Easy," Hari replied. "Simple physics. Going downhill increases the velocity and speed due to the fact that gravity is working with the object and it's inertia, or movement. It's like when you walk down hill, or bike down, or, or dive on a broom. When you dive on a broom, you can exceed the maximum head-on speed."
The little firstie nodded, before frowning. "But what if you lose control, or go so fast you lose the track?"
"While even the most experienced fliers lose control," Krum piped up, "there is a limit to how fast any object can go, no matter what. You can lose the track and lose control, but, you can regain it once again."
"What's the limit one how fast you can go?"
"It varies from object to object," Wood said.
"It's called terminal velocity," one of the 'Puff players added.
All Quidditch players and serious fliers at Hogwarts were given mandatory physics classes so they would understand flight basics. The other muggle classes on the curriculum were hardly ever mandatory.
The air became colder and colder as they hurtled round tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Hari leaned over the side to try and see what was at the bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled her back up by the scruff of her neck.
"Thank you Hagrid," several people murmured. They decided it would be best not to scold Hari for now.
Vault seven hundred and thirteen had no keyhole.
Several people remembered the infamous Gringotts break-in of a high-security vault, and remembered that it had been this very same vault. Which meant that it was Hari and Hagrid that had emptied it.
"Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers and it simply melted away.
"If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there." said Griphook.
"So how come the burglar wasn't?"
After exchanging several baffled looks, most people turned to Bill expectantly. He just shrugged, and they turned away disappointed and frustrated, especially Hari, who'd been puzzling over that for years.
"How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Hari asked.
"About once every ten years," said Griphook with a rather nasty grin.
"Is that true?"
"Nah, they just like to scare people. It's actually once a month per vault, because it takes a team of ten, one with an armed team each, to go through the whole of the bank. That's their only job. They have teams for every branch."
Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top security vault, Hari was sure, and she leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least - but at first she thought it was empty. Then she noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Her mind started whirling and she deduced everything she could from it. Small, easily carried, paper deliberately plain and dingy, with no real need to be wrapped in a vault. Dust patterns regularly disturbed, most recently a week ago, vault large enough to set up a decent chemistry lab, well lit, marks on the marble floor indicated sharp metal regularly moving over the ground. Hagrid picked it up, blocking her view before she could see anything else, and tucked it deep inside his coat. Hari longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.
Mycroft and Sherlock both absently, but proudly, ruffled her hair, while she ducked away and made a face.
"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep me mouth shut," said Hagrid.
One wild cart ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. Hari didn't know where to run first now that she had a bag full of money. She didn't have to know how many Galleons there were to a pound to know that she was holding more money than she'd ever had in her whole life - more money than even Dudley had ever had.
"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Hari, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron?
He was subjected to many disapproving looks before Hari said, a bit defensively, "he had a hot butterbeer."
Madame Pomfrey, one of the few who hadn't shot Hagrid a look, added, "It's what he usually has if he's feeling ill."
"He still shouldn't have left you alone!"
"I placed a trackin' charm on 'er. I di'n't wan' ter take 'er back to the Leaky Cauldron the ge' mobbed again," he said. "Plus, there were sev'ral professors aroun' in case we ran inteh trouble. I walked 'er ter the door, an' di'n't leave 'til she was insi'e."
"And he made me swear not to leave the shop until he was back. Plus, Madame Malkin saw him slip away, and probably wouldn't have let me leave," Hari added.
Shamed, the others turned back to the book.
I hate them Gringotts carts." He did still look a bit sick, so Hari entered Madam Malkin's shop alone, feeling nervous as she watched him walk away.
Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve. Between Aunt Petunia, Mycroft, and Sherlock, she knew all about fashion, sadly, which was how she knew that mauve was in this season.
"Hogwarts, dear?" she said, when Hari started to speak. "Got the lot here - another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."
"Oh, that's right!" Hari exclaimed. "Enter Malfoy!"
Heads jerked around to stare Malfoy, who ignored them.
In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. Madam Malkin stood Hari on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over her head, and began to pin it to the right length.
"Hello," said the boy, "Hogwarts, too?"
"Yes," said Hari.
"My father's next door buying my books and Mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice.
"I thought the wand chooses the wizard," Ron blurted.
"It does, however, as a child's magical signature is a blend of their parents until their majority, a parent can help narrow down the wands before the child goes in for the choosing," Dumbledore explained. Several people nodded.
"There is way too much school going on," Lavender muttered to Parvati.
"They I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don't see why first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully Father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."
Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.
"YOU TAKE THAT BACK, POTTER!" Malfoy screeched.
"Make me."
Malfoy reached for his wand, but stopped when his godfather graced him with a look that dared him to try anything. Instead, he flopped down and sulked.
"Have you got you own broom?" the boy went on.
"No," said Hari.
"Play Quidditch at all?"
"No," Hari said again, wondering what on earth Quidditch could be.
The Lions all faked swooned, fainting couches popping into existence to accommodate them as Hari laughed. "And just think, I had remained clueless until Ron explained!"
At that, Wood really did faint, and wasn't roused for a few moments.
"I do - Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my House, and I must say, I agree. Know what House you'll be in yet?"
"No," said Hari, feeling more stupid by the minute.
"Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"
"Mmm," said Hari, wishing she could say something a bit more interesting.
"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Hari and pointing at two large ice creams to show he couldn't come in.
Madame Maxim cooed and hugged Hagrid.
"That's Hagrid," said Hari, pleased to know something the boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."
"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's sort of a servant, isn't he?"
Malfoy shrank into his seat under the weight of all the glares aimed his way.
"He's the gamekeeper," said Hari. She was liking this boy less and less every second.
"Yes, exactly. I heard he's sort of a savage - lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."
"That was actually our fault," Remus said.
"Really?"
"Yeah, it was a gift gone wrong. We tried to give him a little model dragon, about the same size as a baby dragon, that moved and made noise and such, and somehow it spontaneously upgraded to breathe fire. After that, we got him Fang." Hari eagerly drank up every word.
"I think he's brilliant," said Hari coldly.
"Do you?" said the boy, with a slight sneer. "Why is he with you? Where are your parents?"
"They're dead," said Hari shortly. She didn't feel much like going into the matter with this boy.
"Oh, sorry," said the other, not sounding sorry at all. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"
"They were a witch and a wizard, if that's what you mean."
"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families.
What's your surname, anyway?"
But before Hari could answer, Madam Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and Hari, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to the boy, hopped down from the footstool.
"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose," said the drawling boy. She rather intended to avoid him. She'd already deduced everything she needed to know. Rich, entitled, molded into the 'perfect son' by a father who wanted a mini-me, bigoted, outdated ideals, chance of change if he received a big enough wake-up call.
"Right on the money," Astoria remarked. Malfoy looked at her, startled. He felt ashamed of his actions when Astoria spoke.
Hari was rather quiet as she ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought her (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts).
"What's up?" said Hagrid.
"Nothing," Hari lied. They stopped to buy parchment and quills. Hari cheered up a bit when she found a bottle of ink that changed color as you wrote.
When they had left the shop, she said, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"
"Blimey, Hari, I keep forgetting how little yeh know - not knowing about Quidditch!"
"Don't make me feel worse," said Hari. She told Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin's.
"- and he said people from Muggle families shouldn't even be allowed in -"
"Yer not from a Muggle family. If he'd known who yeh were - he's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky Cauldron was like when they say yeh. Anyway, what does he know about it, some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in 'em in a long line o' Muggles - look at yer mum! Look what she had for a sister!"
Several snorts and laughs echoed through the hall.
Meanwhile Petunia was shrieking insults, as Marge and Vernon bellowed in rage.
"So what is Quidditch?"
"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like - like soccer in the Muggle world - everyone follows Quidditch - played up in the air on broomsticks and there's four balls - sorta hard to explain the rules."
"IS NOT!"
"Well, it is if you're explaining it to someone who's just been introduced to magic," Hermione replied.
"…true," Wood muttered.
"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"
"School Houses. There's four. Everyone says Hufflepuff are a lot o' duffers, but -"
Before Sprout could say anything, Hari cut her off. "I'm sorry, I interrupted him. He was about to defend you. Sorry."
Satisfied, Sprout nodded and settled back into her seat.
"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff," said Hari gloomily.
"And we would be happy to have you," Hannah Abbot said solemnly.
"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid darkly. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin.
There was a great uproar at the Slytherin table, and Hagrid was apologizing profusely. As the Slytherins tried to defend themselves, some of the more prejudiced of every house started shouting about how they were all evil, slimy snakes.
"STOP IT!" Hari bellowed. Silence fell over the room, and they all turned to stare at her. "Look, why can't we all just stop with the prejudice? Every student here has magic. Just because we're different doesn't mean we have to be enemies."
"But you hate Slytherins!"
"We don't hate Slytherins. Malfoy initiated a blood-feud by insulting Hari's parents, and he goes out of his way to antagonize everyone, but especially Hari. He bullies the Slytherins into following his lead. That doesn't mean we hate them. In fact, we are friendly to several of them," Neville stated calmly.
"The Quidditch rivalry is just abit of healthy competition," McGonagall said, much to everyone's shock.
"Besides, I'm fairly certain I ain't evil," Mad-eye added.
"You're a Slytherin?" Several people gasped, and he nodded with a grin, which creeped several people out with his mangled face and all.
"Besides, the man who actually betrayed my parents was a Gryfindor," Hari added.
After that there was a pensive air to the room as they read.
You-Know-Who was one."
"Vol-, sorry - You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?"
"Years an' years ago." said Hagrid.
They bought Hari's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. Even Dudley, who never read anything, would have been wild to get his hands on some of these.
Dudley actually laughed at that.
Hagrid almost had to drag Hari away from Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More) by Professor Vindictus Viridian.
"I was trying to find out how to curse Dudley."
Then he flinched and shut up.
"I'm not sayin' that's not a good idea, but yer not ter use magic in the Muggle world except in very special circumstances," said Hagrid. "An' anyway, yeh couldn' work any of them curses yet, yeh'll be needing a lot more study before yeh get ter that level."
Hagrid wouldn't let Hari buy a solid gold cauldron, either ("It says pewter on yer list"),
"I swear Hari, your obsession with shiny things… you're like a dragon," Neville groaned.
but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescope with several different tools. (Her favorite was the star projector.) Then they visited the Apothecary, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor; jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders lined the walls; bundles of feathers, strings of fangs, and snarled claws hung from the ceiling.
While Hagrid asked the man behind the counter for a supple of some basic potion ingredients for Hari. Hari herself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and minuscule, glittery-black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop).
Outside the Apothecary, Hagrid checked Hari's list again.
"Just yer wand left - oh yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."
Hari felt herself go red.
"You don't have to -"
"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago,
Neville was subjected to some good natured ribbing, and he rolled his eyes, before yelling, "Trevor!"
He lunged forward and snatched up the toad who was about to commit suicide by hopping onto Snape.
yeh'd be laughed at - an' I don't like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everything."
Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Hari now carried a large cage that held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing.
As if sensing that she was being discussed, Hedwig soared in with a letter, dropping it neatly in Hari's lap before perching on her head. She calmly groomed her fledgling's hair, smugly proud of her familiar. She puffed up as the humans cooed over her.
She noticed fledgling's nestmates and went over to groom tall-one.
She couldn't stop stammering his thanks, sounding just like Professor Quirrell.
Hari looked absolutely disgusted for a moment.
"Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from the Dursleys. Just Ollivanders left now - only place fer wands, Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand."
A magic wand . . . this was what Hari had really been looking forward to.
People leaned forward eagerly, while Hari whimpered and hid her face. Sherlock, seeing this, scooped her up and sat her on his lap before anyone could so much as blink. He knew well what she was afraid of, but allowed her to remain silent.
The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Find Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Hari felt strangely as though she had entered a very strict library; she swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to her and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of her neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.
"You can feel that?" McGonagall marveled.
"Well, yeah. Can't everybody?" Hari asked cautiously. Sirius shook his head. "No, it's exceedingly rare. Only those with an exceptionally strong core can sense magic like that, especially that young."
He smiled at her proudly, and she flushed.
"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Hari jumped. Hagrid must have jumped, too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.
An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop. Hari's mind refused to work, and she couldn't deduce anything from him.
"Hello," said Hari awkwardly.
"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Hari Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."
Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Hari. Hari wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.
Nearly everyone nodded fervently, while Madame Pomfrey 'tsk'ed disapprovingly, muttering about him not keeping up with his dosage. One of the seventh year 'Puffs overheard her and asked about it, so Madame Pomfrey explained, "Wand makers must take a monthly dose of a potion which helps their bodies fight of the ill effects from the raw magic they work with everyday. The effects are things like stiffness, premature aging, wild hair, extremely sensitive senses, and so on. Wandmaker families are more prone to turn out high powered wizards instead of squibs, and because of how dangerous it is, wand makers are among the highest of nobility."
"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it - it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."
Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Hari were almost nose to nose. Hari would see herself reflected in those misty eyes.
"And that's where . . ."
Mr. Ollivander touched the lightening scar on Hari's forehead with a long, white finger.
"I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly.
"Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands . . . well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do. . . ."
He shook his head and then, to Hari's relief, spotted Hagrid.
"Rubeus! Rubeus Hagrid! How nice to see you again. . . . Oak, sixteen inches, rather bendy, wasn't it?"
"It was, sir, yes," said Hagrid.
"Good wand, that one. But I suppose they snapped it in half when you get expelled?" said Mr. Ollivander, suddenly stern.
"Er - yes, they did, yes" said Hagrid shuffling his feet. "I've still got the pieces, though," he added brightly.
"But you don't use them?" said Mr. Ollivander sharply.
"Oh, no, sir," said Hagird quickly. Hari noticed he gripped his pink umbrella very tightly as he spoke.
"Of course he doesn't! Who would dare think such a thing?" Ron exclaimed cheerfully.
"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving Hagrid piercing look.
"Well, now - Miss Potter. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"
"Er - well, I'm right handed,"
"Hold out your arm. That's it." He measured Hari from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit, and round her head.
As he measured, he said, "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Miss Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."
Hari suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between her nostrils, was doing this on its own.
"All the measurements are to measure your core, and find an ideal wand," Luna said, for once without her normal dreamy quality. "The more it has to measure, the stronger the core."
People stared at her for a moment, wondering how she knew that. Then she said, once again dreamy, "Oh, a dragon! Hello, mister firedrake!"
As she waved across the room, they snorted and dismissed everything she'd just said, save for Hari's group.
Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.
"That will do," he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. "Right then, Miss Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave."
Hari took the wand and (feeling foolish)
"We all do," Remus reassured her.
waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of her hand almost at once.
"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try -"
Hari tried - but she had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.
"No, no - here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."
Hari tried. And tired. She had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair,
"How many did you have to try?" the same 'Puff from earlier demanded, startled, her odd hat askew.
Hari shrugged, "I lost count somewhere around sixty."
People stared at her in shock, but Sherlock distracted her by showing her how to balance gyroscopes on top of each other as they spun. Unbeknownst to them, Colin snapped several pictures.
but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.
"Well, Ollivander does love a challenge," Dumbledore said with a laugh.
"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere - I wonder, now - yes, why not - unusual combination - holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."
Hari took the wand. She felt a sudden warmth in her fingers.
Cheers went up as people recognized the sensation from their own wand.
She raised the wand above her head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light onto the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried,"Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well . . . how curious . . . how very curious . . ."
He put Hari's wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious . . . curious . . ."
"Sorry," said Hari, "but what's curious?"
Mr. Ollivander fixed Hari with his pale stare.
"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Miss Potter. Every single wand.
"Long memory," someone muttered.
Hari simply shrank into Sherlock, who simply carried one writing once more, seemingly ignoring Hari. In fact, he was very much aware of her, but knew she didn't want to speak.
It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother - why, its brother gave you that scar."
All the oxygen in the room seemed to vanish as they all inhaled as one in a great gasp. Hari bowed her head, afraid of their reactions.
For a moment there was nothing but silence. Then the whispers started. Then the whispers became furtive muttering. That morphed into full blown shouts and accusations as they called her a dark witch.
Fudge was bellowing for her to be arrested.
Then, before anyone could blink, Sherlock stood up and gave a great roar. Unlike Neville's, Sherlocks had a strange, rasping echo to it, and it was so loud and so deep, they felt in their bones.
They all fell silent and stared at him. He was holding Hari bridal style as he spoke with that strange double voice. "Enough! All of you will cease your foolish accusations at once! Hari Potter is no dark witch, and you would do well to remember that you proclaim her to be a hero! You cannot have it both ways! Either she is a hero and a victim, or she is a villain and a madwoman! You fickle beasts! All of you are puny! Mortals who fear those who they adore! If you ever insult Hari Potter again, if you dare impugn her honor, if you turn on her, you. Will. PAY!"
As he stood there and glared, Hari still gently cradled in his arms, at odds with the pure fury and deadly rage pouring of him, silence reigned. Then John carefully stood up, and tugged on his arm. "Sherlock, calm down, and sit down. It's ok."
"No! Hobbit! Do not dare tell me what to do! I am fire! I am… DEATH! I will not be ordered about by a burglar! This child is under MY protection!"
"I know, and I promise that they won't mess with her now," he soothed, ignoring the hobbit and burglar comments, as they just confused him. Instead he focused on coaxing Sherlock to calm down. While he was calming Sherlock, Hari fell sound asleep.
Breathing heavily, Sherlock finally sat after fifteen minutes of John, Lestrade, and Mycroft's coaxing, and then Luna piped up, "Mister Firedrake, you should watch your temper."
People stared at her.
She gave them a dreamy, sunny smile.
Several people fainted. Donovan was one of them.
When Madame Pomfrey had tended to them and Sherlock was sufficiently calmed, Neville, Ron, and Hermione sat around his chair, where he sat with Hari, and Arthur picked up the book, hands shaking a bit.
Meanwhile Rita Skeeter, forgotten about in a corner, was scribbling away.
Hari swallowed.
"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. . . . I think we must expect great things from you, Miss Potter. . . . After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible, yes, but great."
Hari shivered. She wasn't sure she liked Mr. Ollivander too much. She paid seven gold Galleons for her wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop.
The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Hari and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, back through the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Hari didn't speak at all as they walked down the road; she didn't even notice how much people were gawking at them on the Underground, laden as they were with all their funny-shaped packages, with the snowy into Paddington station; Hari only realized where they were when Hagrid tapped her on the shoulder.
"Got time fer a bite to eat before yer train leaves," he said.
He bought Hari a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them.
Hari kept looking around. Everything looked so strange, somehow.
There were several idle nods of agreement, it always seemed unreal, walking into one world after being in the other. Like Narnia and the wardrobe different. But no one dared speak aloud just then.
"You all right, Hari? Yer very quiet," said Hagrid.
Hari wasn't sure she could explain. She'd just had the best birthday of her life - and yet - she chewed her hamburger, trying to find the words.
"Everyone think I'm special," she said at last. "All those people in the Leaky Cauldron, Professor Quirrell, Mr. Ollivander . . . but I don't know anything about magic at all. How can they expect great things? I'm famous and I can't even remember what I'm famous for. I don't know what happened when Vol-, sorry - I mean, the night my parents died."
Hagrid leaned across the table. Behind the wild beard and eyebrows he wore a very kind smile.
"Don' you worry, Hari. You'll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you'll be fine. Just be yourself. I know it's hard. Yeh've been singled out, an' that's always hard. But yeh'll have a great time at Hogwarts - I did - still do, 'smatter of fact."
Sherlock gave Hagrid a sharp smile and a genuine 'thank you'.
Hagrid helped Hari onto the train that would take her back to the Dursleys, then handed her an envelope.
"Yer ticket for Hogwarts," he said. "First o' September - King's Cross - it's all on yer ticket. Any problems with the Dursleys, send me a letter with yer owl, she'll know where to find me. . . . See yeh soon, Hari."
The train pulled out of the station. Hari wanted to watch Hagrid until he was out of sight; he rose in her seat and pressed her nose against the window, but she blinked and Hagrid was gone.
"Hagrid! You never told her how to get on the platform!" Remus scolded good-naturedly.
"That,'s ok. I had help," Hari yawned, now awake again. She had only fallen asleep because, from her position, Sherlock's voice change had been just a soothing rumbling noise. She sat up and stretched, nearly tumbling off Sherlock's lap. Then she wiggled down to stand as the tables reappeared for dinner.
Dumbledore sent them all off to stretch their legs and use the restroom. Hari immediately ducked out, and Sherlock, though loathe to allow her out of his sight, sighed and allowed himself to be escorted to the men's room.
When Hari was headed back to the Great Hall she witnessed an odd scene. That Hufflepuff seventh year was unleashing the fury of a hurricane on Donovan.
AN: Hope you don't hate it. I love you all! And as always: Talk to me, critique me, ask me questions, I shall always reply, when I can. -RebelUp. -your friendly neighborhood renegade.