Disclaimer: Harry Potter will never belong to me. I can only wish.
This chapter is unusually long for me. I'm sorry if the next chapters won't be this length.
Oh, and this story is under re-construction.
Crouched within his cupboard, Harry cringed from the man who stood menacingly at the threshold, demanding to take him away.
The man grimaced, as if Harry's question was too absurd to merit a sensible answer. "Am I your father! I don't think so, no," he said sarcastically. "Perhaps if you had taken a look at the differences between our appearances you'd be able to tell for yourself. I wonder if you would've asked the same question if I had walked in with pink hair."
Harry was taken aback. This man had treated him to a stinging jibe without even getting to know him. "Oh," was all he managed.
"Come, boy. Don't dawdle like such a dimwit. Pack your trunks," the man said curtly. "And hurry up."
"Where are we going?" Harry asked.
"Ask no questions, and I will not have to cut out your tongue and feed it to the Dark Lord's snake."
"What? Whose snake?" Harry said incredulously.
"Just pack your trunks," the man hissed.
"Right." Harry busied himself with stuffing the few clothes and books that he owned into a bag while the man waited impatiently by the door. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had both taken refuge in the kitchen with Dudley.
"Is that all you have?" asked the man, eyeing the bag suspiciously.
Harry flushed. "Yes," he said defensively.
"Hmm." As the man stood aside from the doorway to let him out, Harry shot a question at him. "What is your name?"
"What is your name, sir," the man corrected, sneering. "To you, I will be known as Professor Snape."
"Are you a professor? Sir?" Harry added, as Snape shot him a pointed look.
"I do believe that is what the term suggests," said Snape slickly.
By now, Harry was feeling oddly defiant. His Uncle always bullied him like this. Now that he was finally getting away with them, he was not going to have someone else take Uncle Vernon's place. "I know what the term means."
Professor Snape narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything. "Well, since you're all packed like a good boy, I do believe it is time for us to take our leave."
"Right," Harry agreed, disregarding the taunt. "And exactly where are we going?"
"Ask no questions and I will not have to cut out your tongue and feed it to the Dark Lord's snake," Snape repeated.
"I'm not going anywhere with you if I don't know where we're going. You say you're a professor, but you may well be a kidnapper."
"Paranoia." Snape raised an eyebrow.
"Caution," Harry retorted. As he watched the professor take several deep breaths to calm himself, he realised not many people dared to speak to him like this.
"Very well," Snape settled grudgingly, "I'll inform you along the way."
—0O0—
They had booked in at a hotel called the Starlight a few hours before, and by now, Harry's brain was whirling at top speed, trying to absorb everything the professor had told him. It was so impossibly fantastic that it couldn't possibly be true, although the somewhat realistic logic of the very complicated details said otherwise. However, Harry was not going to take Snape's word for granted. "Prove it."
Snape's eyebrows rose. "I have no obligation to give in to your demands."
"Sorry, sir. I meant will you please show me? Sir?" Harry asked, amending himself.
"And I was beginning to think you did not know the dictionary definition of 'courtesy'," Snape derided. Nonetheless, he brandished a long, wooden stick from his sleeve and jabbed it at a pot of flowers standing in the corner in reply. "Reducto!"
The pot exploded into little pieces. The flower did the same. Harry eyed the stick, half disbelieving, half in awe. "That was brilliant, sir."
Snape snorted. "That was basic magic, Mr Potter."
"Incredible."
"Incredible or not, I do believe that's enough for today. Go to your room and catch some sleep. Tomorrow I will take you to Diagon Alley for your school supplies. After that, I will put you on the train that will deliver you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry… the procedure has changed a little."
"What do you mean? Sir?"
"Three years ago, the students would go back to their own homes after the visit to Diagon Alley until the day comes for everyone to board the Hogwarts Express. Now, students are put onto the train as soon as they've collected their needed things."
Harry was listening with an enraptured expression.
"We have to hurry because the train leaves tomorrow. Most students get their supplies weeks earlier than this. The Feast will begin as soon as your group arrives."
"That's amazing…" Harry breathed. He was finding all this talk of magic schools and witchcraft rather staggering to believe all in one go.
"To the simple, stupid mind of a child, everything and anything is amazing," Snape said.
Harry scowled; why on earth did the professor have to have the habit of sending snide remarks at something or another every once in a while?
"What about –?" Harry was interrupted before he even got to the third word.
"To bed. Even if you do not need rest, I do."
"Fine." He glared, and stomped into his bedroom. It was a real bedroom this time, not a cupboard. To Harry, who had never stayed at any hotel in his life, their room seemed quite luxurious, with separate sleeping accommodation and their own bathrooms.
As Harry lay back in his bed, he reviewed the day's events. Snape had delayed explaining until after they had first showered and dined but it had been worth the wait. It was the start of a new life and new opportunities. He snuggled under his soft blankets and let out a happy sigh. This was wonderful, perfect – beyond any life he had ever imagined for himself.
—0O0—
"You need school robes, Mr Potter, not these fancy, party ones with pink lace."
Harry sighed; he'd thought once they were in Diagon Alley, Snape would stop harassing him about the smallest of things. Unfortunately, he appeared to be wrong. "But the party robes look so cool!"
"Improper? Inappropriate? Befitting for you?" Unflattering words spurted from Snape's mouth.
"No. They're just so different."
"Obviously. You're practically in another world from your Muggle life. They are like chalk and cheese."
"This will take some getting used to."
"Which you'll do perfectly fine at, I'm sure," said Snape dryly. "Children adapt exceptionally quickly. Though, personally, I do not know whether that is a drawback."
Harry ignored that comment and continued looking through the party robes.
"What size are you?"
Harry looked up in surprise. "Umm, I don't really know."
"What has the world come to?" Snape scorned.
"I don't know."
"For Merlin's sake, just get to Madam Malkin and pick out your school robes."
…
An hour later, Snape was dragging Harry out of the robes store by his collar. "Do you have any idea how much time you wasted? We still have to get your wand."
"Then we'll have to hurry, sir."
Soon, Harry burst into Ollivander's wand shop in excitement.
"Ah, welcome, Severus and you…dear boy," said Ollivander, looking at Harry from behind boxes of wands piled on the counter.
"Ollivander," said Snape curtly with an incline of the head.
"How's life with the Dark Lord treating you?" Ollivander said, seriously.
The Dark Lord. There it was again. Professor Snape had already mentioned that name twice; it seemed like everyone knew about that name – everybody but Harry. Currently, he only knew two things about the mysterious man; number one was that Professor Snape knew him personally and number two was that the Dark Lord had a snake.
"The Dark Lord treats all his followers as they deserve," snapped Snape tersely.
"Ah," said Ollivander shrewdly, "so they deserve Cruciatus Curses as reminders of what happened to those that misbehave?"
Harry saw Snape sneak an anxious glance at him. "Only when they deserve it."
"My own morals tell me the Cruciatus is deemed an Unforgivable for a reason," Ollivander insisted.
"If you have a problem with the Dark Lord you can take it up with him."
"I might if I would be able to come out ali –"
"The boy needs a wand," Snape interrupted.
"Of course, of course…" Ollivander turned to Harry. "Excuse me for my rudeness, dear boy. Let's see if I can provide you with a life-long companion."
Harry nodded hesitantly. This was probably the most important moment of his life… and his mind pathetically was elsewhere.
Ollivander's words about the Dark Lord gave Harry the creeps. What had Ollivander meant? What had he been about to say? Was 'I might if I would be able to come out ali –' supposed to be 'I might if I would be able to come out alive'?
Whatever it was, it seemed that Ollivander did not like the Dark Lord. And he had made it sound as if the Dark Lord did horrible things. Harry had a feeling that whatever 'Cruciatus Curses' were, they certainly did not share the same definition as 'fairy cupcakes'.
"Well, now – dear boy, which is your wand arm?"
"Er – well, I'm right-handed," said Harry helplessly, seeing Professor Snape smirk out of the corner of his eye.
"Hold out your right arm, then. That's it."
Ollivander measured Harry from wrist to elbow, then from elbow to shoulder. "Ah, good! I have your measurements."
After letting Ollivander's ruler run over him, Harry stood there feeling rather dazed.
"Right then, dear boy, try this one –" Ollivander whisked a wand from the shelves, "– beech wood and unicorn hair, twelve and a half inches, beautifully supple."
Harry had barely touched it when Ollivander snatched it away. "No, no, absolutely not! A dreadfully ill match! Now, this one has a dragon heartstring for a core – powerful but temperamental. Nice wood, this one; maple wood and nine inches. Try it."
Harry lifted it, but it shot all out of his hand and all the way across the room until it hit the opposite wall.
"Ouch." Ollivander grimaced. "Poor thing sure doesn't like you."
Harry felt mildly insulted. Did the wand-maker have to put it like that? "I'm sorry," he said, feeling as if the fault was being forced on to him.
"It's fine, just another tricky customer. How about… unicorn tail-hair and ebony? Somehow, I don't think it'll work, but…"
Harry lifted it. The whole wand suddenly burned hot, scorching his hand. "Oww." He flinched. "Is that supposed to happen?"
"Only if the wand hates you," replied Ollivander cheerfully, determinedly searching shelf after shelf.
Around ten minutes later, the old man came back with a gigantic stack of wands. He selected one randomly from the pile and shoved it into Harry's hand absent-mindedly. "Hmm … Might work, might not. Try it."
The moment the cold wood united with Harry's outstretched fingers, an exhilarating wave of magic washed up his arm, entwining around and around his skin. "Feels good," managed Harry.
Ollivander clapped in delight, throwing glances at Snape as if expecting him to join in. Snape didn't. His hands kept flat by his sides.
"Sorry, dear boy. Just let me check the core and length for you…"
Harry reluctantly let go as the wand-maker prised the wand away from him.
"Hmmm…" murmured Ollivander, running a thin finger over the wood. Suddenly his eyebrows jerked up and his old eyes became startlingly alert. "My goodness. How…unbelievable… phoenix feather and holly. Eleven inches."
"What is it, Mr Ollivander?" Harry enquired curiously.
"I stuck this wand at the very back of the storage… because of its possible dangerous disposition."
"But why?" Harry persisted. "Why is it unbelievable?"
"Within your wand lies the brother core to that of the Dark Lord. My boy, what is your name?"
"Harry. Harry Potter."
"Mr Potter, you're destined for great things. After all the Dark Lord did great things too – terrible but great."
"Who…" Harry begun. "Who is the Dark Lord? What do you mean by 'terrible but great' things?"
"That's enough!" Snape's voice rang out from the corner of the store.
Ollivander ignored him, eyes glistening with what looked suspiciously like liquid. "The Dark Lord is also known as Lord Voldemort," he said, voice trembling slightly.
"That's ENOUGH!" shouted Snape viciously. He strode brusquely towards the counter and handed Ollivander seven galleons. "You'll get yourself in trouble if you don't watch it," Snape murmured at the wand-maker.
"I'll deal with it when it happens."
"Fine, suit yourself Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Severus. Good luck, dear Mr Potter."
"Bye, Mr Ollivander. It was nice meeting you," said Harry as he followed Snape towards the door. Just as Snape was reaching for the door knob, the thick and almost dusty silence erupted into blood-curdling screams that came from outside.
"What's going on –?" said Harry.
"Shut up, Potter," hissed Snape urgently. "Let me deal with this."
More screams merged with the first few. There were sounds of panicked running feet and noisy bangs that resonated like explosions. It seemed as if chaos had taken over the order of the peaceful earlier moments.
"Clear the way, wizards and witches of Great Britain, for Lord Voldemort!" came a cry from outside. "Stand aside, citizens!"
Harry saw a flash of purple light through the window before Snape's hand suddenly gripped his collar and hauled him away from the glass. A moment later the window was shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, which was then followed by the door flying off its hinges, blasted back into the wall, revealing at least ten people cloaked in fibrous black. Harry also managed to catch a glimpse of the ominous, thick black rainclouds that rolled in the sky when he was dragged back.
Two of those in the black robes stepped inside and moved in the direction of Ollivander menacingly. One on either side of him, they pulled his arms savagely before pinning them back. Harry stifled an alarmed cry as Ollivander's chest hit the counter with a groan. A hand equipped with long black nails pressed him down by his neck. "Death Eaters, you are not welcome," Ollivander cried.
Harry could not figure out for the world, how Ollivander managed to sound so calm when he himself was quivering with fear and Harry wasn't even the one pinioned in a position so vulnerable that he could be choked any second!
There was a sound of billowing robes and Harry looked up to see a female with dark, hooded eyes step inside. He was immediately given the impression of a lithe, pacing predator circling its prey with a disturbingly triumphant expression that Harry simply could not describe in words.
"Behold the new era. All hail the Dark Lord!" the female cried.
An echo arose from the small crowd of black cloaks outside. "All hail the Dark Lord!" they called out as one. "All hail the Dark Lord!" The sound bounced back and forth in Harry's head, echoing emptily.
Somewhere outside, Harry could see a passageway being made for a dark figure at the back. Even from such a distance he could sense the air of authority and power wafting around the figure.
To his dread, the figure was moving slowly towards them.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter will never belong to me. I can only wish.
Please review! I'm desperate here!
Changes have been made to improve this writing, and all credit goes to my Beta, Hippothestrowl.