Harry was thrilled. His Hogwarts letter was due any day now, according to Tom. Although Tom didn't seem to remember a lot about the world, but he seemed to know enough to fill Harry in on the important bits; Hogwarts, the four houses, etc.
And of course, Dumbledore.
Harry remember the first time he had heard that name, crouched behind a sofa, his aunt screeching his fault in Harry's life. It was one of his earliest imprinted memories, and it was a vivid as his hand in front of his eyes, that is to say, excellent, since he had gotten a new pair of thin, rectangular glasses.
Oh yes, Dumbledore, the meddling old man that had ruined Harry's life. He should thank him really, after all, it was thanks to him he met Tom. If not for Tom, who knows what could have become of him? Reliant on a wand, a hapless orphan, knowing nothing about the world he came from.
Tom was a true friend, and Dumbledore, well… he certainly was not.
And it was so, that every day of June, Harry waited. Though, he still went to the forest almost everyday, practicing. He would often gaze at the spot where Nathan and Peter died, fondly remembering the screams that could be heard all the way from the orphanage when the joggers found them.
The police had no idea what to do, and the case was never closed. It had been so easy.
It was on one such day, when he was in the woods on a Friday after school that a small, brown owl swooped down towards him.
"Finally." He muttered, too excited to sound annoyed. He inspected the envelope, which read;
"To Mr Harry Potter,
Room 19
Sunny Starts Orphanage
12, Chenton Drive
Surrey"
He carefully opened the letter, ceremoniously, as though it were precious. Cracking open the seal with baited breath, Harry turned the letter around to read it.
Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
sets of plain work robes (black)
plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags.
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 Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad.
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS
He read the letter again. And again. And again, hungrily. He immediately ran back into the orphanage, followed by the owl, straight up to his room, and sat at his desk. He quickly scribbled down an acceptance letter, which he sent off with the owl that had followed him all the way back.
Then he wrote an almost identical letter to the one he had just received, excluding all of the witchcraft stuff. He quickly used a copying spell to clone the signatures onto the letter.
Harry carefully placed the original letter in his old, leather suitcase, along with his few, precious belongings, including his old jumper, and his old thorny branch. He turned back to the letter on the desk.
He picked that up immediately and left for Madam's Nelson's office, meeting no hindrances whatsoever.
"Madam Nelson?" He knocked on the open door.
"Yes, what is it?" She asked, not looking up from her paperwork.
"Well, it's just that I got a letter. From a school." He said in his meekest voice. She looked up sharply.
"What? Let me see." He beckoned him over.
"It's a boarding school, so I'll only be back during the summers. I was really hoping I could go."
"Who paid for this?" She tore the letter from his hands and scanned the letter with a hawk eye.
"My parents, before they died. They also set up a fund so I can buy stuff for it apparently." Harry could tell she was very tempted at the idea of not seeing him for most of the year.
"Well. I suppose that should be fine, just tell them to fill in the paperwork when you get there." She put the letter into her pile of paper.
He could tell she was worried about him ruining his chances by telling them about extra paperwork too soon.
"I was going to go to London tomorrow, to do the shopping?" Harry tried.
"Yes, yes, that'll be fine." She waved him out. Wow, she really hated him, that was straight-up illegal. He left the office for lunch, already planning a wonderful day out.
He looked down the road, clutching the leather briefcase containing his savings and few belongings, sans clothes of course. #he didn't like leaving his possessions at the orphanage; although no one would dare bother him, he didn't want to risk some cocky new arrival getting nosy.
He was dressed in his best clothes, clean brown trousers, a deep blue polo shirt, his blue converse, and his brand new maroon hoodie. He'd taken it out of the older kids' clothes bin, so it was slightly large for him, but not so much that he looked ridiculous, it just lent him an air of innocence that could serve him very well.
To the common eye, he was just another preteen on a day out in London. Well, except for the scar. The pale fractal pattern that scattered over the right side of his head, one thin, long, strand creeping over his eyebrow and running down over his right eyelid. It looked as though someone had ripped his head apart and jammed it back together again, not quite fitting. It looked like a burst of lightning. Actually, it was a curious thing, the scar, it seemed to almost grow over the years, overtaking more and more of his face.
To be honest, his scar was one of the only things Harry liked about his appearance. That's why he kept it unhidden by his short, messy hair.
The only other thing that ruined his innocent act was the sharpness of his face, the one that made him look suspicious, the reason everyone seemed to easily believe the worst of him. It was a small flaw, but only slightly inconvenient for him, after all, fuel is always needed to start the fire of doubt.
"The leaky cauldron…"
"Yes, Tom, I know." He thought back, honestly, as if he could forget the name of a gateway into the magical world. He'd been dying to come here for nearly a year, since Tom told him about it, but as Tom explained, child trust funds in the magical world are only accessible when they receive their Hogwarts letter, and Harry wasn't sure that he could walk through a world like that without being able to interact with it. Only wizard money was acceptable there, and the conversion rate might have left Harry with a few sickles, so, he had waited.
He strode up to the small pub, and walked in. He was met with the illustrious feel of magic. It was an old, run-down looking pub, with a good few patrons bustling about, having an early lunch, or having a drink of something orange at the bar. He began to walk towards the back, when he froze.
"Oh Merlin, it can't be."
"Is that really…"
"It's Harry Potter!"
And Harry was immediately met with a round of applause, people reaching for him, grabbing his hand, shaking his shoulder, swarming him with yells of surprise and joy. Harry was suddenly confused and frustrated.
"Umm, hello?" He tried. He was only ignored, as everyone continued to crowd him, muttering and squealing.
"He looks just like his father!"
"But he has his mother's eyes!"
Then something caught his attention.
"Oh, he even has the scar!" One young-ish looking witch mumbled, staring at him. He reached up to touch the scar, confused. Was this how they recognised him?
"They admire you…use it!"
"Hello everyone!" He turned on a smile, "I was just hoping to get some shopping done, and I was really hoping for some peace?"
"Oh, you're not here alone are you? I'll come with you!" Several different 'fans' immediately countered. Harry must have let his concern show on his face, because just then someone stood up.
"A-actua-tually, I-I am-m h-here t-t-to hel-help w-ith m-m-m-mr Pot-pot-otter's sh-shopping." A tall, turbaned man stuttered.
"Uh, Yeah, he is. I will once again just ask for some peace?" Harry begged the crowd.
"Oh, of course Harry!"
"As long as you're safe!"
The patrons returned back to their activities with a fair reluctance, as Harry followed the strange man towards the alleyway. The man took out his wand, tapping it to the wall several times, revealing a large doorway. Harry just stared through it, at the quiet, beautiful world he was about to enter. He looked back to the man.
"I-I am-m p-prof-professor Qu-Quirrell. I wi-will b-be yo-your d-d-d-defen-defence t-teacher thi-is y-year." He managed to just stutter out.
"Well, I greatly appreciate the help, sir." Harry gave him a charming smile, hoping to garner favour before the school year had even begun. "If you don't mind, I'll just be off to meet my guardian now, but thanks again!" Harry smiled.
Quirrell smiled at him, "If-f y-y-you s-sa-say so-o," before taking off to the left, down some other road. Harry was shocked it had been so easy to ditch the man. He really seemed as though he was going to accompany Harry.
"Maybe he will… You just won't know it…"
Of course, he must be preparing to follow Harry in secret. Oh well, he'd just have to be on his best behaviour then. He was sure Quirrell would make himself scarce. That just left him with another problem. He was famous?
"I had no…idea…"
But what exactly was he famous for? How? He hadn't been in contact with anyone magical since his parents died, so how did they recognise him just from his face? His scar? That must have been it, surely? They seemed to know what his parents looked like, maybe that was it? But what did his parents look like? All he knew from Tom was that he looked like his dad, with his mother's eyes.
Either way, he find anything out just standing there. He took a deep breath, and left the small alleyway, stepping into bustling streets on Diagon Alley. Luckily, no one seemed to notice him, everyone far too busy with their back to school shopping to see him, and quickly he disappeared into the hoards of happy witches and wizards.
First stop, Gringotts bank.
He took note of the warning on the front of the bank that read:
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 our floors
A treasure that was never yours
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
Well that was ominous. He passed the through the tall, imposing doors, and felt a gentle cool air, a serious contrast from the hot summer air outside.
He walked to the nearest available teller, and politely inclined his head, just how Tom taught him.
"Hello sir." That was important. Let the Goblin respond to him, it made it more like a conversation than a transaction, and the 'sir' would likely help the goblin feel more comfortable with helping him.
"Hello." The goblin seemed to preen with the respect. "How may I help?" It asked, clearly much more awake than the other tellers dealing with customers.
"Well, Mr… uh…"
"Goldfang" The goblin flashed a toothy grin.
"Well, Mr Goldfang, I was hoping to access my account? It should be for the name Potter." Harry weakly smiled, the image of a polite child.
"I see, and do you have your key, mister Potter?"
"Uh, no sir, I didn't realise I needed one." Harry was truly puzzled by this. He had never had a key for the account as far as he was aware.
"That should be no problem, your magical guardian must have it. That must be Dumbledore, yes?" The goblin seemed to almost spit the man's name. "He is the wizards' automatic guardian to orphans is he not?"
"I didn't know that."Harry growled, before quickly trying to hide his aggression. He knew he had failed when Goldfang gave him a considering look.
"Well, Mr Potter, if you'll just allow me to take a drop of blood, the key can be recalled for you." Goldfang stared at him with his beady black eyes.
"Oh, yes please." Harry rolled up his sleeve for Goldfang, who reached over with a knife and a small phial. Stabbing Harry lightly over his wrist, he held the phial to the wound, and squeezed out several drops of blood. He proceeded to pull a small bowl out from under his desk, full of a strange blue liquid, and poured the contents of the phial into it. Waving his hand over, he muttered something, and the liquid vanished.
From the bowl, he pulled out a small, brass key.
"This is yours Mr Potter, and as long as you hold this, no one else may legally interact with your account without your expressed permission." He held the key out to Harry.
"Thank you, sir!" Harry stared at the small key with slight wonder, considering how he could ensure its safety. On a string like a necklace? He was pulled from his thoughts by the teller calling a smaller, younger goblin forwards.
"This is Griphook. He will escort you to your vault." Griphook made to leave, clearly expecting Harry to follow him, when Goldfang gripped him by his shoulder, whispering something in his ear. Griphook nodded, and turned back to Harry.
"This way Mr Potter." He walked off once more.
"Thanks for all your help!" Harry called after him to Goldfang.
Yes. Almost just as rehearsed.
After getting off the roller coaster mine cart, he was met with a tall dark door. He handed the small key over to Griphook's outstretched claws. The small goblin proceeded to run his hand over the door, and inserting the small key into the small keyhole that appeared.
When the door opened, Harry was shocked.
Piles and piles of gold, stacks of silver, small trinkets and old, dog-eared books filling the room from floor to ceiling. Harry could do nothing but gape for several seconds. He had had no idea he had this much money. Wait, this must be the main account though, right?
"Um, Mr Griphook? This isn't the main family account is it?"
"No, this is specifically your vault, created the 5th of August 1980 by your parents Lily and James Potter." Griphook seemed to be very entertained by Harry's shock, showing many teeth.
"Everything in this vault was specifically chosen for you to have at this age."
Harry looked at his briefcase rather hopelessly. It could certainly not fit as much as he wanted inside it.
"Enlarge it… Just the inside, it's difficult, but you should be … able to do it."
Harry's grip on his case tightened, as he scrunched up his nose slightly. For something so difficult, concentration was he set it down to the gold-covered floor, opening it. He was shocked to see that the inside was now huge just the size of a room, maybe twice the size of his small room back at the orphanage. Grinning, he started piling dozens and dozens of coins into it. After he deemed that he had enough money for the year, he started to look around the huge room a bit more. He noticed several books, all various ancient guides to magic. Then he found one book he paused on.
The Tales of Beedle The Bard
Flicking through, he saw it was a children's story book. The stories that never got read to him. He clutched it to his chest, before carefully dropping it into the case as well. It would be useful, yes, he could learn about the culture some more. Yes, very important.
There were some other items in the vault, wands, and small trinkets, but he passed over the wands with little thought, they were pointless to him. Most of the trinkets were items of jewelry.
"Some of the items have enchantments on them. We can provide a list of which items and their enchantments if you desire." Griphook cut in.
"Yes, please." Harry stood from his crouch.
Griphook pulled out a sheet of parchment from seemingly nowhere, and handed it over to Harry. Skimming the list he saw that most of the items were charmed for protection of some sort. He picked out a small, plain, gold ring, that had a "Notice-me-not" charm on it. If the charm did what it said it would, this would make shopping much easier.
"Do I have to wear this for the enchantment to work?" Harry held the ring out to the goblin. He had never been one for jewelry.
"I believe so, but there are those that go about changing the object of the enchantment, in fact, I believe there is one down Knockturn alley, that goes by the name Borgin and Burkes." The goblin gave him a sinister grin.
"Oh okay, thanks." Harry nodded at him, slipping on the ring with a sigh.
Deciding he was done here, Griphook escorted him back through the bank to the foyer.
"Thanks again for all the help!" Harry waved goodbye to Griphook, receiving an approving look from the goblins nearby.
As he left the bank, he checked his list, trying to decide what to get first. After a few moments of consideration, he began heading for Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions.
As he walked along, he noticed that absolutely no-one was looking at him, not even passingly along the street. Looks like the ring worked perfectly, now, if he could only change it into a necklace or something, even just put it on a string around his neck.
He arrived in the shop, and stood there for several minutes, before noticing his mistake. Pulling off his ring, he was met by a rather short, portly woman that looked to be in her mid-fifties.
"Oh hello dear, how can I-" She stopped as soon as she saw his scar.
"Hello miss, I was looking to buy my school uniform, and maybe some other robes as well?" Harry pretended to not notice her gaping.
"Oh, yes, of course!" She bustled around the counter towards him. "If you'll just step up here Mr Potter." She lead him over to a small platform, next to another one with a small blonde boy being measured, who seemed to suddenly perk up at the mention of Harry's name.
"He is a Malfoy… They are important, and very influential… Use him, and your fame if you can." Tom perked up at the sight of the child.
"Hello there." The boy, Malfoy, greeted him, as Harry was being measured.
"Hi." Harry said shortly. He could already tell what sort of boy this was. The way he was desperately trying to polite when his eyes so clearly said he was excited, showed exactly what he was trying to do. He was going to befriend Harry, likely to use this 'fame' of his to gain more influence, if what Tom said was true, and his parents had probably told him to do exactly that. Well. Harry was not going to be used. He was going to use.
"Draco Malfoy." The boy reached over to Harry, extending his hand.
"Harry. Harry Potter." He shook Malfoy's hand. He was certainly not going to be the one to sustain this conversation. Let Malfoy feel uncomfortable, make him feel like he has to try hard. It would leave a lasting impression on their future relationship, after all, first impressions are so hard to wipe away. After a moment, he took the bait.
"Excited for Hogwarts? I am. I know I'll be in Slytherin, I don't think there's any point in the other houses to be honest. Where do you think you'll be going?" He bragged with a slimy sort of voice.
"Slytherin. Or maybe Hufflepuff." Harry decided to throw a spanner in the clockwork-like brain of this poor little boy.
"Hufflepuff?" He spluttered incredulously. "But they're-"
"Hard workers. Yes. Don't you work hard, Malfoy?" Harry met his gaze blankly.
"Well yes, but-" He cut himself off as a blonde woman entered the shop, striding towards them. Looking like he'd remembered his mission, and probably trying to impress the woman that could only have been his mother, he turned back to Harry.
"Well, no matter what house you're in, you'll need company I imagine?" The cool, smug voice was back.
"I suppose I will." Harry nodded at him. With the clear agreement between them dawning on the mother, she interrupted the conversation.
"Come, Draco, we must leave." He stood regally, looking between the two boys with something akin to pride in her eyes.
"See you soon." Draco nodded again, before leaving the shop, hold a new set of robes in his arms.
After a few more minutes, Madam Malkin had asked Harry what sort of other robes he had wanted, an he had ordered two sets of everyday robes, and a set of dress robes. She had informed him that they would be complete and ready within the hour, and he had left to finish his shopping, once again with the ring.
He later collected his clothes after a trip to the apothecary and the book shop, and set down for lunch at a nice-looking café. All that was left was his wand.
"And an owl." Tom reminded him.
He'd get the owl last, he just wanted to get the wand bit over with.
Entering Ollivander's he wondered why everything in the wizarding world was so dusty when they had cleaning charms. He stood there for a moment, until an old man emerged from a back door, looking Harry over with an unnerving amount of interest in his pale eyes.
"Hello, Mr Potter." Harry was really sick of everyone knowing his name, he must have heard the word 'Potter' about a hundred times just that day.
"Hi, I was hoping to buy a wand?" Harry still put up his cutesy act, although he could tell Ollivander was not an easy to fool man, despite how he may seem.
"Of course, of course." He muttered, and just like that they began trying wands. Every time, Ollivander would hand Harry a wand, and Harry would halfheartedly wave it, and something would blow up. It was a very odd feeling, using a wand for the first time. It was very restricting. His placebo had been more of a mental exercise, but this felt like it was actually sucking his magic through it. Very Strange.
They went through wand, after wand, after wand, Olliander becoming more and more excited each time. After "Cherry wood, Dragon heart string, 10 inches" Ollivander stopped.
"I wonder…" He muttered before wandering through the back door once more, emerging moments later, with a dusty, (Seriously, did wizards actually know that cleaning spells existed) thin box. He pulled it out, looking at in a sort of wonder, and handed it to Harry carefully.
The moment Harry felt it, something strange happened, sparks shot from the tip of the wand, green and gold, before they began somehow melting the wood floor floor below. The wand was snatched from him.
"Curious, very curious." Ollivander looked shocked.
"Um, what's curious?"
"The core of this wand, it responds to you, but the wood is… incompatible. I may have to adjust it, I suspect this is the only core for you. Curious." Ollivander muttered, wandering towards the back.
"Wait, when will it be ready?" Harry called after him. Seeming to remember Harry was there, Ollivander turned back to him.
"Oh, not too long, I believe you were close with this wand," He pulled another wand from the discard pile, "I may just need to switch the cores. Perhaps an hour?" Before waiting for an answer, he left the room.
Bloody excellent. He didn't even want a wand.
With a sigh he left the shop, and decided to go buy an owl. He could probably waste an hour looking at the animals.
There were a variety of animals at Eeylops Owl Emporium, despite what the name implied. There were crups, kneazles, all sorts of reptiles, and yes, owls. He was looking through the small lizard-like creatures when he heard an angry voice.
"Cold… Too cold. Bad wet." He couldn't see who the voice belonged to, there were only a few other people in the shop, and they were nowhere near him.
"Bad bad bad wet." The voice continued. Harry started walking in the direction it came from, only to see a tank with three snakes draped over fake branches.
"Yes, we know, bad wet, shut." Another voice came. Harry stared. It was the snakes. Fascinating, but why could none of the other animals speak?
"They can't… You can speak to them… Only you can speak to them…" Tom explained.
He could speak to snakes? And it wasn't a wizarding thing? How strange. The snakes were still complaining, and Harry decided to try this out.
"How is the wet bad?" Harry asked, politely. The snakes lost their minds.
"A Speaker!"
"He can speak, he can understand!"
"Among us, oh a speaker!"
"Yes, yes, shh, or someone will come over." Harry quieted them down. "Now, how is the wet bad?"
"Oh speaker, it taste wrong. Bad for scales. Itchy." Harry looked at the base of the tank that was full of water, and saw that the complaining snake was carefully avoiding it. It was a long snake, with pale grey scales, and deep silvery eyes. The other two snakes were an iridescent silver with black stripes, and were clearly much more comfortable, stretching into the water.
"It's a black mamba…It isn't an aquatic species… The other two are sea krait." Tom read off his apparently encyclopedic knowledge of snakes. Harry slid off his ring, and waited
Sure enough, a shop assistant quickly bustled over, glanced at his scar and gulped slightly.
"Hello sir, how may I help you?" The poor young man looked terrified. Ah, fame.
"This snake is in the wrong habitat." Harry pointed to it. "It's a black mamba, they don't belong in water."
The shop assistant looked at him in horror.
"I'm ever so sorry sir, I'll move it at once, unless you want it sir? It would be free of charge of course, for the inconvenience." He stuttered out quickly. Harry looked at the snake, contemplating. He wasn't really sure he wanted a snake, but it could serve to be very useful, it could go places Harry couldn't. The Hogwarts letter hadn't technically disallowed any pets other than the ones listed. Finally deciding, he turned to the man.
"Yes, okay, but I also need an owl, which I'll pay for myself." The assistant smiled in relief, before pulling out his wand, and levitate the snake into a new, dry tank, and floating it over to the counter. "Right this way sir." The man lead Harry over to the area full of owls.
They were all rather handsome animals, but Harry saw one that caught his eye. A white snowy owl with large amber eyes. He reached out to her, ignoring the panicked gasp of the assistant, and she hopped onto his outreached forearm. He held his other hand out to her, and she nipped his finger, drawing a small amount of blood. He almost didn't notice the pain, and began to stroke her feathers, smearing her with blood.
"She's rather aggressive, but she she seems to really like you." The assistant muttered, eyes wide at the frankly alarming display.
"Well, I'll have her." Harry commanded, not looking at the man.
He left the shop with both animals in separate travel containers, and sat at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, enjoying an unmelting mint choc chip ice cream and brainstorming names. Finally he reached a decision.
"You will be Hedwig." He says to the owl, who hooted slightly in approval.
"And you- wait, are you female?" Harry suddenly realised he had no idea what gender the snake was; the voice was very ambiguous.
"No, no female, no eggs." The snake responded excitedly, obviously very pleased with the way things were going for him.
"Okay, then you will be Zaccai." The snake reared in delight at its new label. Well that went down well. He considered for a moment.
"May I hold you?" He asked Zaccai curiously.
"Yes, Speaker, it's honour!" He responded excitedly, already coming towards the front of the container. Harry reached in and pulled the pale creature out. He was just over a meter long, stretching over Harry's arms and shoulders calmingly.
"Careful… The Black Mamba is considered the most deadly snake in the world…" Even as Tom said this, Harry couldn't help but feel very relaxed with Zaccai sprawled over his upper body. Maybe he was wrong about having a snake, is was quite nice. And if he could hide him under his clothes he could very easily sneak him into the orphanage, he just needed to get past the door, no one bothered him in his room anymore.
He finished his ice cream and went to collect his wand, Zaccai still wrapped around him comfortably. He walked in the shop, to have Ollivander rush out immediately, even before Harry had pulled off his ring.
"Ah, Mr Potter, here we are. 11 inches, Blackthorn, Phoenix Feather." He held out a a darkly tinted wand, with a ball-like rounded end, and a sharp tip. The handle had a twisting pattern in the polished wood, and a small swirly pattern followed from the top of the handle to the tip on each visible side of the wood. It was a very attractive wand, all in all.
Harry reached out to take it, and just as before, a small stream of green and gold sparks appeared from the end, but this time lacking the impossible levels of destruction. Speaking of, all the signs of his previous visit were gone completely, no exploded vase, no knocked over boxes, and no blackened, charred floorboards. And yet, there was still dust coating everything! It must be on purpose, surely? For some some of air of mystery?
As Harry began to be lost in his musings, Ollivander interrupted.
"So very curious." His pale eyes stared at Harry.
"What is, Sir?" Harry suspected that was his favourite word.
"The core of that wand, very particular, phoenix feather, now I remember that phoenix, and it was very strange. That phoenix gave two feathers. It just so happens that the brother of this feather is in the wand that gave you that scar." Ollivander was standing very close now, and Harry couldn't help himself from giving in to his curiosity.
"How? How did I get this scar?" Harry asked him, almost desperately, this man was very clearly not fooled by anything Harry was putting on, and this was something crucial that he would need to know, especially if it was connected to his fame.
"You don't know? Ah, Well, that would explain much. Well, just decades ago, a great wizard appeared. Now, understand this, he was great, but most certainly evil, and he brought with him years of vicious war, an age of terror from which all hope seemed lost." His face seemed to be reliving this time, as Harry stared at him, transfixed.
"One night, on Halloween, he went after your family, the Potters, in their home. They had been in hiding, protected by their friend, Sirius Black, but alas, he had betrayed them. No one really knows what happened that night, but they know he struck down your parents, and he came to you. No one knows how, but something about you stopped him that night. The only living thing found in the rubble of the house was you, your forehead marked with a lightning bolt scar. You are so well known in this world because of what you represent Mr Potter, and because of what you brought about." Ollivander finished his tale looking into the distance pensively.
Harry was reeling, trying to understand the new information, then it clicked. His nightmare, the green flash of light, the one that was so like when he killed Peter. But there were still things he was dying to know.
"What happened to Sirius Black?" Harry ripped Ollivander from his blank gaze.
"Ah, Azkaban, a truly cruel fate. The worst prison in the world." The old man seemed to feel sympathy for this man. Harry did not. He would remember this name; Sirius Black.
"Oh, one last thing. The name of the great wizard, what was it?"
"There are many that fear the name too much to speak it, but I will say it just once to tell you. His name was Voldemort." Ollivander seemed to internally shiver at the name.
"Anyway, " Ollivander continued briskly, shaken out of his previous mood, "That will be nine galleons Mr Potter, oh, and I would amplify the spell on that ring if I were you." He gave Harry a conspiratorial look as Harry handed over nine gold coins.
Harry felt much better leaving the shop, but still shaken over the story he'd just heard. He thought about it all the way back to the orphanage on the train, through dinner, and even when he went to bed.
With Zaccai comfortably dozing in his magically heated tank, and Hedwig perched on his over-head shelf, Harry lay, eyes wide open, on his lumpy, dirty mattress.
Who could blame him if he didn't sleep? He'd had a very busy day.