Chapter four - Snallygaster
It was an hour later and Harry was beginning to despair. Despite many an explosion, flooding, random plant growth and other assorted magical phenomena, he had yet to match with a wand. Giving the latest wand a small flick, 10 inches, birch and unicorn tail hair, unbending, he watched with disinterest as every bit of glass in the shop transformed briefly into fire and then disappeared.
"Hmm… Quite the tricky customer, mr. Potter. It seems I need to bring out the wands with rarer characteristics." As Ollivander spoke, he gave his wand a broad sweep across his shop, and every piece of missing glass seemed to materialise from thin air and slot itself back into place.
"Let's try… this one. 13 inches, acacia, quite rigid, with a dragon heartstring core." Harry reached towards the box, but hesitated for a brief moment. He hadn't gotten any feelings or similar from any of the other wands, but this one seemed… almost snobby? No, not snobby, but reserved, withdrawn. Harry somehow got the sense the wand was very hard to please.
"Mr. Potter? What's wrong?" The voice of McGonagall interrupted his thoughts and he shook his head.
"Nothing, mrs. McGonagall, just a strange feeling." As Harry spoke, he grasped the wand from its box. As soon as he had raised it up in front of him, the wand gave a violent shake, before a shower of white, green and red sparks shot from the tip, along with a few gouts of similarly coloured flame. From the tips of his fingers, all the way up to his shoulder, a tingling warmth spread, and Harry could feel a connection between himself and the wand snap into place. It was like having regained an arm, or a leg, after never knowing he had been missing one.
"Well done, mr. Potter, very well done indeed. It's been a very long time since I've seen a more spectacular display of bonding." Ollivanders words were strangely distant, as Harry looked at the wand in his hand. His wand.
"What did you describe it as again, sir?" Harry hadn't really been paying attention when Ollivander had described the wand's traits to him, but now that he had bonded with it, he found himself extremely curious about it, and what it meant. Ollivander gave a small smile and repeated himself.
"13 inches, acacia with a dragon heartstring core and quite rigid. Take proper care of that wand, mister Potter, and you rarely meet another that matches it for power or compatibility." Harry nodded. He could feel a deep well of potential power in the wand
"With every wand you gave me, sir, you told something similar about them. Where would I look, if I wanted to find out what it means?" Harry had grown curious about what the string of descriptions meant.
"Hm, interested are you? I would recommend The Basics of Wands and Wandlore by Dahlia Orchids, mister Potter. It gives a very brief but accurate summation about the various aspects and materials a wand is composed of, and what that means for the wand itself and how its owner should use it."
Harry nodded, then paid the wandmaker the seven Galleons he was owed for the wand with a smile. McGonagall agreed to stop by Flourish and Blotts to buy the book.
"Afterwards, mr. Potter, we will return to the Leaky Cauldron. I will set you up with a room for a couple of nights, and have Tom the owner look out for you. That should be enough time for me to schedule a meeting with the appropriate department in the Ministry for a discussion about your future living arrangements."
It was six in the evening the same day, and now, Harry sat in a small room in the Leaky Cauldron that McGonagall had rented. He had 'The Basics of Wands and Wandlore, by Dahlia Orchids' spread across his lap, even as he fiddled with his wand. It was a dark, golden-brown colour, with five grooves in the wood that curled lazily up towards the tip. The grooves grew steadily narrower and shallower as they made their way upwards. Harry thought it looked very cool.
The book was also very interesting, explaining how each aspect of a wand's characteristics affected it. Sometimes, the book even read as if wands had distinct personalities, which Harry thought was very strange. Even if he had gotten an odd feeling from the wand the first time he had seen it, ascribing intelligence to an object still felt very strange to him. But as he found the sections of the book that pertained to him and his wand, he put that aside to focus on reading.
Wand length is typically disregarded as having any impact on the wand itself, however, between wandmakers, it is commonly accepted that longer wands are typically attracted to those with a bigger personality and a more spacious and dramatic flair in their spellcasting. Neater wands, in contrast, typically prefer more elegant and refined magic.
Acacia is an unusual wood type that makes for tricky wands. Wands made with this wood often refuse to produce magic for any but their owner, and withhold their best effects for all but the most gifted. Unsuited for typical 'bangs-and-smells' magic, it none-the-less matches any wood type for power. It is unpopular due to being horribly over- or underpowered unless matched perfectly.
Dragon heartstring is one of Garrick Ollivanders' 'Three Supreme Cores', able to quickly adapt to new magic, sustain powerful spells and is particularly suited to transfiguration. As such this core could be called the adventurers wand core. However, it is also the core most easily won over by an opponent, and as such often makes for the most fickle wands.
Rigidity or flexibility of a wand characterises the willingness to change and adaptations of the wand-and-wizard pair. As such, the more rigid the wand, the more difficulty another wizard or witch would have with winning its allegiance, or the more difficult its owner would find using it after drastically changing goals or priorities in life.
It should be noted, however, that none of these factors should be considered in isolation. Nor should the owner's life experience and style of magic be excluded from consideration, as all these things combine to make every wand, and its partnership with its owner, unique.
As Harry read through the passages, he wondered at how each part of his wand seemingly tied itself to specific aspects of his personality or goals. Seemingly, his wand denoted that he was a powerful wizard, with talent for wide-ranging spells and magical effects, with an emphasis on transfiguration. It told of a need to focus on mastering his spells and their consequences. It also indicated that he was prone to, or needed to, make his decisions and stick by them.
The last part in particular resonated with Harry. Already, two years ago, he had decided on a set of life goals, the four priorities he would live his life by. He wanted to have a safe haven, a place he could always return to and be certain in the knowledge that nothing could harm him. He wanted trusted companions, people he could show his back to unashamedly, both literally and figuratively, certain that they could be trusted with it. He wanted to be free to explore the world, go where he wanted and experience what he wished. And he wanted enough strength that nothing and noone could force him to give any of those things away involuntarily.
As Harry sat and pondered those goals, and the seeming connection his wand had to them, a knock sounded on his door. Startling slightly, he closed the book softly and stood from the bed he'd laid down on, opening the door with his wand still in hand. He had barely put it down since he bought it. The barman, and owner of the pub, Tom stood with a tray of food and a glass of something sweet smelling.
"Evening, lad. Promised professor McGonagall I'd get some food in you before you turned in for the night. I understand you've had quite the day, so you should probably turn in early. Don't worry 'bout the tray and dishes, just take them down with you in the morning and I'll have them done then."
The man spoke softly and with a sympathetic lilt in his voice, and Harry felt a faint blush creep on to his cheeks. He had never been treated so nicely before, and it was a strange but very welcome experience. A part of him still expected to either have everyone revert to the way the Dursleys treated him, or for him to wake up in his closet to discover everything had been a dream. Only the fact that everyone here was just as 'freakish' as him alleviated part of that concern. Hopefully, time would eventually do away with the rest of it.
As the barkeep handed him the tray, Harry discovered just how hungry he was. He hadn't eaten anything but an ice cream with McGonagall the whole day, and his stomach demonstrated that by giving a loud growl at the deliciously smelling food just under his nose. His blush increased to slightly feverish levels and Tom gave a low chuckle, before he closed the door to Harry's room with a quiet 'you're welcome'. Holding the tray was slightly awkward with his wand still in hand, but Harry made do, unwilling to put it away.
A small desk with a chair sat in front of a window facing the Alley, opposite the bed, and Harry put down the tray on the table before taking a seat. As he ate one of the most delicious meals he'd ever had, Harry pondered the only thing he hadn't gotten that day, a familiar. McGonagall had encouraged him to get one, but he'd panicked at the notion of replacing the snake that had been his only friend. But now, after he'd had some time to digest the idea and get used to it, he decided he would make another attempt.
A familiar was a magical companion, a creature or beast that would be a constant in a witch or wizard's life. After the panic attack he'd suffered in the magical pet shop, McGonagall had gently explained to him how familiars were close and trusted companions for many and how many magical creatures provided special benefits or abilities to their witch or wizard. Only irrevocable differences in core ideals could make a familiar and their owner split. Having read about his wand, and thought about its connection to the goals he had set for himself, Harry realised that a magical familiar was exactly what he wanted in a companion.
He had tomorrow, and most of the day after, to find a familiar before McGonagall returned with news of where and how he would live until the start of school and during holidays. That would probably involve moving from Diagon Alley, to whatever family or institution that would take him in.
Harry yawned, suddenly realising how exhausted he was, and decided to take the suggestion Tom had made and go to bed early. Moving to the bed and undressing, he quickly looked through the stack of books he had bought with McGonagall. Finding the one he was looking for, he put Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them on the nightstand by his bed and went to sleep.
The next morning, Harry woke up to knocking on his door. He sat up and blearily looked around, before climbing out of bed and putting on a fresh set of clothes. He padded over to the door and pried it open, rubbing at his eyes.
"Well good morning to you, young man. I can see I woke you up, but I thought you might like some lunch." Tom's voice was full of mirth as he looked down at Harry, who started slightly at the words, looking around for a clock but not finding one.
"It's just past 12, lad. I thought you might be up here reading some of all those books you got, but it seems you were just exhausted. Still, probably not any less hungry!"
Harry nodded dumbly. He had never slept late before, long conditioned to waking up bright and early to fix breakfast for the Dursleys. He must have been more exhausted than he realised. He took the new tray that Tom the barkeep handed him, still with a mirthful glint in his eyes, before setting it down on the desk, trading it for the dirty one from last night. He handed that one back to Tom, who just grinned at him as he closed the door.
Harry sat down at the desk, still beleaguered with sleep and not truly awake. Standing back up, he grabbed the book he's put on his nightstand, before going back to his breakfast. He would read a bit about magical creatures before he went back out into the Alley to try and find a familiar.
It was two hours later that a somewhat embarrassed Harry Potter came down from his room, dirty tray and dishes in his arms, and thanked Tom for waking him and the lunch. He also put down 3 Sickles and 13 Knuts he owed the barkeep for the food both the night before and today. He ignored the answering chuckle with dignity.
Coming out into the dead end that was the entrance proper to Diagon Alley, Harry drew his wand from his waistband with a quiet excitement. This was the first time he would use his wand and he was somewhat pleased it would be to reenter the most magical place he had ever been. Carefully tapping the bricks in the pattern McGonagall had done it the day before, Harry couldn't stop a grin from spilling onto his face as the archway that allowed passage to Diagon formed.
Since he was still wearing the oversized clothes he had inherited from Dudley, Harry decided to head back to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasion. He had been there yesterday to get his school robes, but had decided to get proper wizarding clothes later, in favour of quickly buying the rest of the items on his school supply list. Now, he was slightly uncomfortable walking around in the oversized and ragged clothes. Speed walking to the shop with his head down, Harry got a warm reception from Madam Malkin herself. She clearly recognised him from the day before.
"Hello again, dearie, what can I do for you? I do seem to recall you getting your school robes yesterday," she greeted with a smile.
"Ah, I was hoping to get some everyday clothes before I have to leave the Alley again. I don't really feel comfortable in these…" Harry gestured vaguely down at himself.
"Ah, yes, I did think those clothes were rather ratty looking, but who really knows what passes for fashion among muggles?" As the owner of the clothing store spoke, she waved Harry up on the small stool he had also stood on the day before. Harry wondered why he had to be measured again, didn't she already have his measurements? Maybe she didn't keep them?
As a small measuring tape flew around Harry by itself, and a quill scribbled what was presumably his sizes down on a floating notepad by itself, Madam Malkin asked Harry what kinds of robes he wanted.
"Err, I don't really know what's good. Something with a bit of green and blue?" Harry was totally clueless about normal fashion, let alone what witches and wizards thought looked good. Madam Malkin just noted his words down with a smile, motioning an assistant into a backroom.
"Well, the current fashion is somewhat subdued colours, but we can do some sets with darker colours on the trim and in some patterns on the chest. Normal robes aren't like the ones you bought for school, they're usually open and paired with pants, with a shirt and blouse combo or vest beneath. Would you like anything in particular or should we just get you some sets of everything?"
"Um, just a couple of different sets, with everything. I need a completely new wardrobe." Harry blushed slightly, ashamed at his clothes. The matronly woman just gave him another kind smile, before turning to the returning assistant. She gave both her own notepad and the one that had been floating nearby to her, and turned back to Harry.
"Well, we will have that done in an hour or two, we'll count up the cost then too. You just come back here at two at the earliest, and your new clothes will be ready."
Harry gave a small nod and thanked her as he left, giving a small wave to the assistant who was waving at him with a big smile on her face. She was quickly moved into the back room again by an irritable-looking Madam Malkin. Harry just shrugged in confusion, before heading towards the pet shop from yesterday. As he approached, he spotted a small sign he had missed yesterday proclaiming the shop the Magical Menagerie.
Heading inside, he greeted the same salesman that had been there yesterday with a nod, the harried looking man simply nodding back. He was rather preoccupied by a rabbit hopping around on top of three cages, while loudly transforming into a silky looking black top hat. As Harry looked around the store, he spotted a gigantic tortoise with a jewel-encrusted shell sitting nearby the window to the street. It had to reach his collarbone! He shook his head in wonderment, what was with these animals?
Idly wandering around the store, he didn't really spot anything that he found compelling. McGonagall had said that a true familiar would feel like an unfulfilled interest, like knowing something would be an incredible experience just from looking at it. The closest he had come to that, was the snowy owl from the Emporium, but that had been more a fascination with her beautiful colouration. Spending a while more idly meandering in between the various cages, he still had not found anything that seemed like what McGonagall had described to him. Looking out on the street, he could see the shadows had moved.
"Excuse me, could you tell me what time it is?" Harry politely asked the still harried looking salesman, even though he had managed to wrestle the still transforming rabbit into a cage a while ago. The man drew his wand from somewhere on his belt, before giving it a small flourish while whispering something.
Misty glowing number numbers sprang from the wandtip, showing the time to be 1:13 pm. Harry gave the man a nod of thanks, before leaving the store. Where to now? He had seen the entirety of the Emporium yesterday, after his more positive interaction with the snowy owl, and he hadn't found anything then. Maybe he should have a look down one of the smaller side streets?
There was one just another shop over, and Harry took a look down the short length of it. Only three signs dangled in a slight breeze, the nearest proclaiming The Direct Gallstone Distillery.Harry wrinkled his nose, what in the world was a gallstone, and why and how would anyone want to distil one? The next sign seemed promising, reading Rogers Rare Beasts and Curious Creatures. Maybe he would have more luck finding a familiar among rare and curious animals?
Quickly going past the strange distillery, Harry entered the animal store, which was much quieter and more open in comparison to the menagerie. The cages were larger and spread further from each other, and there was even a water filled tank full of strange, glowing seahorses with dragonfly-like wings.
Harry looked around for anyone who could help him, but the register was unmanned and Roger-the-presumed-owner was nowhere to be seen. Shrugging to himself, Harry meandered over to a closed straw basket sitting on the floor, seemingly deliberately placed in a beam of sunlight. It shook slightly, and he had just grasped the gnub on the lid when a voice came from behind.
"Wouldn't do that if I were you, kid."
Harry jumped and quickly retracted his hand, looking contritely but curiously at the man that had appeared in a doorway by the register.
"Why not, sir? Is it dangerous?" Harry asked, looking at the slightly trembling basket with more caution. Why keep it in the middle of the shop, in easy reach and without a lock, if it was a bad idea to open it?
"Not as such," the man said with a slight grin, "that there is an Occamy, they fill the space they occupy, so if you let it out of its basket it would fill the entire shop. Be a right pain to clean up and recapture every beastie in here if that happened. I would keep her in the back, but there ain't no windows and she gets fuzzy if she doesn't get her sunlight."
The accent wasn't British, but Harry hadn't ever heard it before, so he had no idea where the man was from. Taking the chance to study him, Harry looked him over. The presumed shopkeeper was middle aged, in that undefinable way many adult wizards and witches were, with dirty blond hair and blue eyes. He had an unshaved buzz that gave him an unkempt air, when combined with his ruffled robes.
"Oh, ok." There wasn't much Harry could say to that. He still thought it sounded kinda dangerous, but the man clearly didn't think so.
"So anyway, why are you here kid? If you want a pet, you should probably head over to The Magical Menagerie. Names Oliver, by the way"
"I'm looking for a familiar," Harry explained, "I've already been to the menagerie, but I didn't find one there." He looked around again, spotting some kind of glittering white bird in a golden cage. He headed over to for a closer look, and it spoke a short string of nonsense words in a beautiful female voice.
"A familiar, you say? That's quite ambitious, you don't usually stumble across one in a pet shop. Far be it for me to discourage you though, no sense in scaring off a potential customer eh?" Oliver was grinning as he watched Harry look closely at the bird, waving his right hand animatedly in front of his face.
"Can you think of anything that might attract you towards a certain type of animal in particular? Familiars are commonly found in animals people have something in common with."
Harry turned his back to the bird, despite the fact he kinda wanted to continue to listen to it. It's voice was incredibly captivating. The older man raised his eyebrows as he looked at him, gesturing around what was, presumably, his shop.
"Well, I can talk to snakes?" Harry was uncertain if that was what the man meant. Did being able to talk to snakes count as having something in common with them? Could all witches and wizards talk to some kind of animal?
The man gaped at Harry in surprise, staring at him with fascination. Harry hunched his shoulders, uncomfortable with the intense look.
"You're a parselmouth?! Didn't think I'd meet one in Britain, much less one that would admit to it. Your kind have a very bad reputation here, all that bad business with that dark lord a couple of years back, all kinds of different discimination now." The man seemed overjoyed, despite the distressing words. He would be discriminated against? He hadn't even known talking to snakes was an established thing, and now this man was telling him people would treat him badly because of it? When he'd just gotten away from the Dursleys? And what was that about a dark lord?!
"From your expression, I figure you didn't know any of that. Raised by no-maj's I reckon, from your clothes. Sorry to break it to you like that." Oliver shrugged apologetically, but didn't seem all that sorry. Harry shot him a glare, incensed that the man would drop a bomb on him like that and then just brush it off. He clearly noticed, because he gave a cough and rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. Then he suddenly brightened.
"Tell you what, how about I give you a treat, show you a real rare magical beast. Hasn't hatched in the wild more than 4 four times in the last 1500 years."
Harry's glare tapered off at that, somewhat intrigued. He almost agreed immediately, before he realised something. He narrowed his eyes at the older man, suddenly suspicious.
"Hatched? It wouldn't happen to be a snake, would it?" He asked sarcastically, his glare coming back to life with a vengeance. The man looked briefly taken aback, before grinning ruefully.
"Caught that, did you? I'll admit, the beastie is pretty snake-like, but part of the reason I wanted to show it to you is because you're a parselmouth. There's been a lot of speculation about whether or not parselmouths would be able to speak with it, and it would be very beneficial to me if I could provide a definitive answer. Though I would suggest you don't talk about your, affinity, for snakes with the rest of Britain's magical population. I don't personally care, but a lot of the people here would be right nervous at a random parselmouth popping up out of nowhere."
Harry had relaxed a bit at the explanation. He didn't really appreciate that the man had tried to manipulate him like that, but he'd also become really curious about whatever the magical beast actually was. It sounded like it was very reminiscent of a snake, but apparently different enough that magic might make it very different. Somehow.
The older man recognized Harry's acquiescence for what it was, despite him not saying a word, and briefly raised a finger before heading back through the door to the, well, back. He came back out after a minute, carrying a big wooden box that had 1-inch wide holes the whole way around the top. Harry frowned, he could hear something from the box, something that sounded weirdly like a hiss and a muffled voice at the same time.
"Already able to hear it, eh? I've got it muffled right now, extremely venomous you see, but I'll take some precautions so you can get a proper listen." The man sat the box down gently on the same table as the register, before drawing his wand and placing it along the slit where the lid and the box's sides met. Harry could faintly hear him chanting a couple of different phrases over and over again, as he slowly dragged the wand the entire way around the box.
Oliver gave Harry a grin, before sharply flicking his wand upwards, the box's lid following the motion and coming off with a loud pop! Harry looked over the edge, as the older man flicked his wand again and what looked like a tiny rope came flying out of the box before spooling neatly on the table beside it.
The man said something, but Harry didn't hear it, only able to focus on the magical animal inside the box. It was a snake. But it had a bird's wings, one third down its body from the head. And it was pure white, like clean snow, the only exception being its pale red eyes. It raised its body at him, spreading its wings to look bigger, and hissed violently, exposing a pink serpentine tongue and eight fangs, one bigger and one smaller paired at each upper and lower corner of its mouth.
Harry could feel it, that thrumming sense of potential and promise that McGonagall had told him about. His heart hammered in his chest, excited and nervous all at once. He wanted so badly to find a familiar, and now that he had found a potential one, he had to do everything he could to make sure he could keep it. The older man had said he could see the magical snake, not that he could buy it, but Harry had to. He had to.
"Yeah she's a beaut', isn't she?" Harry startled as the man clasped him on the shoulder while he spoke, looking down at the still violently hissing snake-with-bird-wings over his shoulder. Harry nodded.
"So, you understanding anything she's hissing?" The man asked with a chortle, "she's sounding pretty pissed off, might not be suitable for a child's ears, now that I think about it."
Harry started to shake his head, before abruptly stopping.
"The [greedy/arrogant/foolish] man binds this one's mouth for weeks, then thinks she will perform tricks for children? You shall feel this one's venom!" As soon as the last sibilant word had ended, the snake snapped its wings and leapt upwards, fast enough that Harry could barely keep track of her head. It didn't get very far, however, as the strike stopped dead at the edge of the box with a thump, an invisible barrier stopping it from going further than the top of the box's sides.
Harry blinked at the way the snake had - described? addressed? - the man, wondering at the mix of feeling, intent and meaning that had translated so weirdly to the snake language. Parsel-language?
"I'm sorry he's treated you like that, [great-beauty/clean-snow/frightening-speed]." Harry blinked. He hadn't meant to use the same means to describe/address the magical bird-snake hybrid as it had the older man beside him. He had simply been uncertain what to call it when he spoke, and instead, the same mix of feeling, intent and meaning had come out of his mouth without him truly understanding how.
"Oh? I'm hearing some parseltongue in action here! It seems the snake-bodied subspecies do speak it!" The man sounded very happy, but Harry didn't care, because the beautiful creature in the wooden box had frozen, body tense as it stared at him. Though he noted in the back of his mind that the language a parselmouth spoke, was called parseltongue.
"The child understands this one? The child is a [serpent-speaker/slither-tongue]? This one is grateful to finally have someone to converse with, she would have the child stay close."
Harry blinked, confused at both how quickly its tone had changed from outraged anger to cautious hope, as well as the strange way it described him. The adder snake had simply called him a 'speaker'.
"I understand you [winged-serpent/white-beauty/deep-hope], though other serpents I have spoken to have only called me 'speaker'. I found you here while searching for a [bonded/companion/soul-sibling], and now that I have seen you, I hope it will be you."
Harry blinked again, thrown off at how the word 'familiar' had changed while speaking the serpentine language. The winged snake twisted slowly about itself, its head cocked to the side as it stared at him. Its tongue tasted the air, its wings beating slowly, as it seemed to consider him.
"This one would be grateful to the child for getting her out of the box and away from the [greed/avarice/covetousness] of the other. This one would happily be the [soul-bonded/guardian/hope-fulfilment] of the child in return, she has only ever been [lonely/surrounded-by-dark]."
Harry nodded, then turned to Oliver.
"How much?"
The older man blinked, surprised, before shaking his head.
"Sorry kid, that one is already reserved for another customer. Snake-bodied snallygasters are an extreme rarity, nevermind one as pretty as this one. Can't give it to you."
Harry balled his fist, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.
"I'll double it."
Oliver burst out laughing, but it sputtered out quickly when Harry just continued to stare at him seriously.
"You've no idea how much I'll be paid for her already, you can't double it kid, ain't no way you've got the funds."
"Try me."
The older man gave an exasperated laugh, then shook his head.
"Fine. Fine! Got an offer of 375 Galleons. Still sure you can double it?"
Harry wordlessly pulled out the lacquered wooden tube that functioned as a chequebook, then moved to stand in front of the small display plate that would show the total of any given purchase. Oliver stared briefly at the tube, then chuckled.
"Hey now, if this is some kind of bluff, kid, then it's a good one. That's a Gringotts chequebook isn't it? That won't make a check if your Gringotts vault can't cover it. Sure, then, let's see how much you've got in the bank."
As Oliver rang up a total of 750 Galleons, a low hiss came from the wooden box.
"Did this one hear correctly? The [arrogant/foolhardy/greedy] man had promised this one away? When this one gets free, she will strike him a hundred times!"
Harry chuckled as he tapped his Gringotts chequebook to the display, which caused Oliver's eyes to go wide as a crisp, thick slip of paper got spat out onto the table. In big, bold letters, it guaranteed 750 Galleons to Rogers Rare Beasts and Curious Creatures from the Potter Family Trust Vault.
"Well I'll be damned, you're Harry Potter? No kidding…"
Harry frowned. Multiple times now, starting when McGonagall introduced him to Tom the barkeep, people had reacted weirdly to his name. Or just immediately recognized him. He made a note to look into that when he returned to the Cauldron.
"Well, a deal's a deal, but I should probably make sure you know everything you need to, to take care of that beauty now that she's yours." Oliver grinned down at him, and Harry nodded seriously.
"First, you should know that your new friend here, is what's known as a snake-bodied snallygaster. Since snallygasters are all female, they cannot breed naturally and only occurs when a bird's egg is nested by a reptile, and will take on characteristics of the two specific species involved. A snake-bodied snallygaster only occurs when a snake nests that bird-egg, which is commonly accepted to be such a rare occurrence since most snakes either immediately eat any egg they encounter, or are totally uninterested and leave, thus not leaving an opportunity for nesting. Your snake-bodied snallygaster was nested from a swan egg, by a black mamba."
Harry frowned at that, finding multiple things in that explanation weird. Wouldn't most lizards also either eat any bird eggs they came across, or be equally uninterested? How did a bird egg even end up 'being nested' by a reptile? He glanced at his new familiar… and a black mamba? At least the swan egg told him what kind of wings she had. Oliver's grin widened.
"Ah, I recognize that look on your face, had one much like it on mine when that there snallygaster hatched. White? From a black mamba? How? My personal guess is albinism, since she's all white with red eyes. Bit of a long shot though, since what are the chances really of a rare divergence like that to hit an already extremely rare magical creature? I'd suggest just accepting it."
Harry gave a small nod. It didn't really matter to him anyway, all that mattered was that he had a familiar. A trusted and constant companion, he could unreservedly show his back to. He and Oliver went to the box, where Harry's new friend waited impatiently.
"Now, before I release her, I gotta make sure you understand what she can do, alright? The common snallygaster is a class 4 magical creature, according to the internationally acknowledged rating system. That means it's in the second-highest rating, and as such, they can be extremely dangerous. Since snake-bodied snallygasters are so rare, there's only a few confirmed common traits. But both kinds are naturally tough enough to be bulletproof and have fangs of serrated steel.
Since the snake-bodied sub-species are also extremely venomous, I'd suggest being extra careful about where her mouth ends up. They're also able to fly, as I'm sure the wings clued you in on. At the size she's at now, your companion will eat anything from large insects to small mammals, but mice are probably the right size for a decent meal. Common snallygasters grow to be taller than a man at the shoulder, and 15 to 18 feet in length, so expect her to get big eventually.
That's pretty much all that's known for certain, so it's my professional opinion that you find yourself a competent adult and let them help you discover anything else you need to know."
As Oliver explained about her, the newly-bonded familiar slowly rose into the air, seeming to move by an illogical combination of slithering on thin air and slowly beating her wings. Harry nodded along, barely able to commit the words and warnings to memory, as all he wanted was to have his familiar join him. With a final serious look at Harry, Oliver's expression cracked into a grin, then he flicked his wand and removed the barrier that separated Harry from his new companion.
Immediately, the winged snake shot towards Harry, and wrapped herself around his shoulders. Now free from curling tightly in a box, Harry could see she was close to 5 feet long and about 1.5 inches at her widest. Harry grinned, and the familiar let out a jubilant hiss.
"This one is happy enough to be free and [soul-bonded/sworn-sibling/eternal-companion], that she will not even bite the [arrogant/foolish/facilitator] man for his disrespect!" Harry laughed. Clearly, he wasn't the only one overwhelmed with happiness.
Oliver grinned at them both, then made a waving gesture with his hands.
"Now, you two, get going! It's nearly 2 pm. It wouldn't do for my now former customer to come by and see I've already sold what he ordered, now would it?"
Harry's eyes widened, that meant the clothes he ordered at Madam Malkin's would be just about done too! This was just about his favourite day of all time.