Author's Notes: Thanks for all the reviews! I'm glad you all like
Nathalie, she's sweet...
Disclaimer: See part one.
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"Damn him!" Harry snapped, as he shoved the last of his clothes into his suitcase. "Damn it all to hell and back." He shoved the clock and his photo album into the suitcase, which was beginning to fall apart again. He pulled his wand from the pocket of his clock, which was carelessly flung over the bed. "*Reparo!*" *Not broken, but it looks a little smaller. I'll have to find a new one wherever we go next.*
"Nathalie," he called. "Are you packed?"
"Nearly, Papa," came her voice from the bedroom next to his. "Just let me..." She trailed off, and Harry, with a small chuckle, closed his suitcase. He made sure all his protection spells were in place on it, then he shrunk it and put it into one of the pockets of his cloak.
"Nathalie!" he called again. She appeared at the door, and handed him her suitcase to shrink. He sighed, performed the charm, and tucked it into the pocket that held his own.
*I really need to get her a wand,* he mused. *Maybe...maybe we should go to London...*
"Was the information you needed very important, Papa?" Nathalie asked quietly. "Did I make things bad?" She looked so worried that Harry knelt down and gathered her close to him.
"No, cherie," he soothed. "It's not anything that I can't find elsewhere; I can get them to come to me, after all, it just would have been easier here. Don't worry, nothing that happened is your fault." She nodded, and hugged him tightly for a moment.
When she pulled back, Harry took her cloak from her hands and settled it over her shoulders. The thick material seemed to live on her, as it did on him. He fastened the Skull clasp, resting his fingers on it for a moment as a sadness passed over his features.
Then he rose, and pulled on his own robe. "Come on, Nathalie," he said softly. "I've got an idea for you." He pulled out his wand again. "We're going to London," he told her.
If her eyes had got any wider she would have looked like an house elf. "Oh, Papa, really?" she squeaked. He nodded. "Oh, wow! I've never been *there* - Muggle or wizard?"
"Wizard," he told her, and her mouth dropped open, "which is why I need to put disguises on us, cherie, alright?" She nodded, closed her mouth, and waited for him to find his wand. He did, and muttered something under his breath as he brought the tip of the wand to rest on her forehead. She blinked at the slight tickling sensation, and then watched as he repeated the words, with the wand touching his forehead now, near to his scar. Slowly her father disappeared under the skin of a new man, a man she thought she recognised from somewhere...brown hair, blue eyes, shorter than her father was, yet still quite tall...
She giggled. "Papa!"
The eyes might be different, but the twinkle of amusement was the same. "Look in the mirror, oh reflection of history." She darted over to the mirror on the wardrobe door, and wrinkled her nose. "Don't you like it, cherie?"
"Won't someone know us?" she inquired thoughtfully.
Harry raised his eyebrows. "I doubt it. If they do, I know several *very* effective memory charms. And this is important, so it must be done. Come along." He leant over her shoulder and tapped the clasp of her cloak, making it appear plain, and then tapped his own. "There. No-one will even guess who we are now, or they shouldn't." He held out his hand for her to take.
"Are we going by train?" she wanted to know, taking his hand.
"No," Harry replied. "That takes too long, and the wizard we saw will have warned the French Aurors by now." He frowned. Apparating could be tracked, but they really didn't have any other option...
"I'll try to make a Portkey before we try Apparating," he decided. "Portkeys can't be traced." He let go of Nathalie's hand and looked about the room for something that could be used. There was a small ornament on the window sill; he picked it up, and touched his wand to it. He muttered something under his breath, and put the new Portkey down hastily. "Nathalie." She hurried up. "When I say, put a hand on the ornament, alright? You'll feel a tugging, that's normal, and then we'll be in London." *I hope,* he silently added. It had been a long time since he'd made a Portkey.
"Okay, now," he instructed. Nathalie reached for the Portkey; she touched it at the same time he did, and there was the tug at him navel - *I hate Portkeys* - and moments later Harry picked Nathalie up from where she had stumbled, dusted her off, and looked around.
Not exactly where he'd hoped to end up, but close enough. *Although I'd hoped to never bring Nathalie down here.* They'd landed in a corner of Knockturn Alley.
Nathalie looked around her with wide eyes, and quickly clasped Harry's hand. "Papa..."
"Let's get out of here," Harry muttered. He dropped the ornament, and ground his foot into it. "Come on, Nathalie. Into Diagon Alley." They walked to the end of the Alley and into the bright sunshine of Diagon Alley.
Harry felt a pang of regret. The last time he'd been here was...*too long ago,* he told himself. Nathalie was staring around them, eyes wide, which looked odd on her new appearance. He nudged her, and she blinked, and tried to look as though this wasn't her first time here.
"This way," he murmured, steering her through the crowds towards one particular shop. "In here, cherie." He opened the shop door, pushed her inside, then closed the door behind them.
Ollivander's hadn't changed in centuries, nor was it likely to. It was still dark, with a slightly musty smell, and there were still piles of wand boxes absolutely everywhere. Mr Ollivander himself was nowhere to be seen, so Harry stepped up to the counter, where a small bell was labelled 'please ring.'
He rang, and waited. Nathalie was chewing on the end of one of her plaits thoughtfully.
"Papa," she said slowly. "You already have a wand."
Harry nodded. "I do, cherie, but you don't, and there's little more I can teach you without your own wand to practise with." He lifted his head as Mr Ollivander, looking the same as he had the day Harry had bought his wand, walked out of the back of the shop. He blinked when he saw Harry, and then looked closely at Nathalie, whose eyes were alight with surprise.
"Can I help you?" he inquired slowly. Harry frowned at his odd glance, but nodded.
"Yes, my daughter needs a wand." Nathalie beamed. Mr Ollivander raised an eyebrow curiously. "She's not going to school yet, but we travel a lot, and I'm not sure when we'll have time to come back and buy a wand," Harry enlarged.
"I see," Mr Ollivander said briskly. "Which is your wand hand, young lady?"
"Right," Nathalie replied, still grinning like a mad thing. Mr Ollivander produced a tape measure from somewhere, and began measuring Nathalie's arms, hand span, head diameter, then left the tape measure to measure her by itself whilst he perused the shelves for a wand.
""Ah!" he exclaimed after a moment. "Try this. Ebony and unicorn hair, nine and a quarter inches." He pulled out a box, and held the wand out for Nathalie to try. "Wave it about," he instructed her. She swished it, and felt very silly when nothing happened. She glanced up at her father, who was smiling slightly. "No, no, here try this," Mr Ollivander said briskly, holding out another.
It took half an hour to find a wand that suited Nathalie, and Harry was beginning to get a little worried, especially since he had glimpsed several wizards in Auror robes in the Alley through the window.
"Try this one," Mr Ollivander said finally, lifting a wand out of the box. "Holly and dragon heart-string, ten inches." Nathalie, by now thoroughly bored, took the wand and carelessly waved it. Harry suddenly yelped as bright sparks shot up at his face.
"Careful, Nathalie," he admonished, then looked up at Mr Ollivander. "Is this the one?"
Mr Ollivander nodded. "Yes, I think it is," he said decisively. "That's eleven galleons." He took the wand back from Nathalie, who was now looking very pleased with herself, and put it back in the box. Harry, after digging about for a moment in one of his cloak pockets, produced eleven galleons, and then Nathalie tucked her new wand into a pocket of her own cloak.
"I was wondering," Mr Ollivander said slowly, "if your own wand is still in good shape, Mr Potter."
"Yes, thank -" Harry cut himself off, and stared in shock at the wand- maker. "How on earth?" he breathed. Nathalie, a little confused, took cover in the folds of Harry's cloak.
"There's an anti-illusion spell put over the whole shop, Mr Potter," Mr Ollivander said airily. "A wand can't choose a wizard - or witch - when the owner is under a glamour and I can't really see them."
"So why aren't there Aurors swarming the place right now?" Harry demanded curtly. "I'd have thought you wouldn't want us to go loose - after all, everyone else has that attitude."
Mr Ollivander gave him an overly-patient look. "Mr Potter, what you are, and what your daughter is, is absolutely none of my business. All I do is sell wands. And there's a small yard through the back door, you can Apparate from there."
Harry stared for a moment, then grinned despite himself. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "Come along, Nathalie."
"Thanks," Nathalie called back to the wand-maker as Harry pulled her through the shop. Mr Ollivander waited for a minute or two, then went to the fireplace in the corner and threw some powder into the fire.
"The Ministry, Auror department," he stated clearly. A head appeared. 'Ah yes. I'd like to report a sighting of Harry Potter. He was in Diagon Alley, heading towards Knockturn Alley."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
To be continued.
Disclaimer: See part one.
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"Damn him!" Harry snapped, as he shoved the last of his clothes into his suitcase. "Damn it all to hell and back." He shoved the clock and his photo album into the suitcase, which was beginning to fall apart again. He pulled his wand from the pocket of his clock, which was carelessly flung over the bed. "*Reparo!*" *Not broken, but it looks a little smaller. I'll have to find a new one wherever we go next.*
"Nathalie," he called. "Are you packed?"
"Nearly, Papa," came her voice from the bedroom next to his. "Just let me..." She trailed off, and Harry, with a small chuckle, closed his suitcase. He made sure all his protection spells were in place on it, then he shrunk it and put it into one of the pockets of his cloak.
"Nathalie!" he called again. She appeared at the door, and handed him her suitcase to shrink. He sighed, performed the charm, and tucked it into the pocket that held his own.
*I really need to get her a wand,* he mused. *Maybe...maybe we should go to London...*
"Was the information you needed very important, Papa?" Nathalie asked quietly. "Did I make things bad?" She looked so worried that Harry knelt down and gathered her close to him.
"No, cherie," he soothed. "It's not anything that I can't find elsewhere; I can get them to come to me, after all, it just would have been easier here. Don't worry, nothing that happened is your fault." She nodded, and hugged him tightly for a moment.
When she pulled back, Harry took her cloak from her hands and settled it over her shoulders. The thick material seemed to live on her, as it did on him. He fastened the Skull clasp, resting his fingers on it for a moment as a sadness passed over his features.
Then he rose, and pulled on his own robe. "Come on, Nathalie," he said softly. "I've got an idea for you." He pulled out his wand again. "We're going to London," he told her.
If her eyes had got any wider she would have looked like an house elf. "Oh, Papa, really?" she squeaked. He nodded. "Oh, wow! I've never been *there* - Muggle or wizard?"
"Wizard," he told her, and her mouth dropped open, "which is why I need to put disguises on us, cherie, alright?" She nodded, closed her mouth, and waited for him to find his wand. He did, and muttered something under his breath as he brought the tip of the wand to rest on her forehead. She blinked at the slight tickling sensation, and then watched as he repeated the words, with the wand touching his forehead now, near to his scar. Slowly her father disappeared under the skin of a new man, a man she thought she recognised from somewhere...brown hair, blue eyes, shorter than her father was, yet still quite tall...
She giggled. "Papa!"
The eyes might be different, but the twinkle of amusement was the same. "Look in the mirror, oh reflection of history." She darted over to the mirror on the wardrobe door, and wrinkled her nose. "Don't you like it, cherie?"
"Won't someone know us?" she inquired thoughtfully.
Harry raised his eyebrows. "I doubt it. If they do, I know several *very* effective memory charms. And this is important, so it must be done. Come along." He leant over her shoulder and tapped the clasp of her cloak, making it appear plain, and then tapped his own. "There. No-one will even guess who we are now, or they shouldn't." He held out his hand for her to take.
"Are we going by train?" she wanted to know, taking his hand.
"No," Harry replied. "That takes too long, and the wizard we saw will have warned the French Aurors by now." He frowned. Apparating could be tracked, but they really didn't have any other option...
"I'll try to make a Portkey before we try Apparating," he decided. "Portkeys can't be traced." He let go of Nathalie's hand and looked about the room for something that could be used. There was a small ornament on the window sill; he picked it up, and touched his wand to it. He muttered something under his breath, and put the new Portkey down hastily. "Nathalie." She hurried up. "When I say, put a hand on the ornament, alright? You'll feel a tugging, that's normal, and then we'll be in London." *I hope,* he silently added. It had been a long time since he'd made a Portkey.
"Okay, now," he instructed. Nathalie reached for the Portkey; she touched it at the same time he did, and there was the tug at him navel - *I hate Portkeys* - and moments later Harry picked Nathalie up from where she had stumbled, dusted her off, and looked around.
Not exactly where he'd hoped to end up, but close enough. *Although I'd hoped to never bring Nathalie down here.* They'd landed in a corner of Knockturn Alley.
Nathalie looked around her with wide eyes, and quickly clasped Harry's hand. "Papa..."
"Let's get out of here," Harry muttered. He dropped the ornament, and ground his foot into it. "Come on, Nathalie. Into Diagon Alley." They walked to the end of the Alley and into the bright sunshine of Diagon Alley.
Harry felt a pang of regret. The last time he'd been here was...*too long ago,* he told himself. Nathalie was staring around them, eyes wide, which looked odd on her new appearance. He nudged her, and she blinked, and tried to look as though this wasn't her first time here.
"This way," he murmured, steering her through the crowds towards one particular shop. "In here, cherie." He opened the shop door, pushed her inside, then closed the door behind them.
Ollivander's hadn't changed in centuries, nor was it likely to. It was still dark, with a slightly musty smell, and there were still piles of wand boxes absolutely everywhere. Mr Ollivander himself was nowhere to be seen, so Harry stepped up to the counter, where a small bell was labelled 'please ring.'
He rang, and waited. Nathalie was chewing on the end of one of her plaits thoughtfully.
"Papa," she said slowly. "You already have a wand."
Harry nodded. "I do, cherie, but you don't, and there's little more I can teach you without your own wand to practise with." He lifted his head as Mr Ollivander, looking the same as he had the day Harry had bought his wand, walked out of the back of the shop. He blinked when he saw Harry, and then looked closely at Nathalie, whose eyes were alight with surprise.
"Can I help you?" he inquired slowly. Harry frowned at his odd glance, but nodded.
"Yes, my daughter needs a wand." Nathalie beamed. Mr Ollivander raised an eyebrow curiously. "She's not going to school yet, but we travel a lot, and I'm not sure when we'll have time to come back and buy a wand," Harry enlarged.
"I see," Mr Ollivander said briskly. "Which is your wand hand, young lady?"
"Right," Nathalie replied, still grinning like a mad thing. Mr Ollivander produced a tape measure from somewhere, and began measuring Nathalie's arms, hand span, head diameter, then left the tape measure to measure her by itself whilst he perused the shelves for a wand.
""Ah!" he exclaimed after a moment. "Try this. Ebony and unicorn hair, nine and a quarter inches." He pulled out a box, and held the wand out for Nathalie to try. "Wave it about," he instructed her. She swished it, and felt very silly when nothing happened. She glanced up at her father, who was smiling slightly. "No, no, here try this," Mr Ollivander said briskly, holding out another.
It took half an hour to find a wand that suited Nathalie, and Harry was beginning to get a little worried, especially since he had glimpsed several wizards in Auror robes in the Alley through the window.
"Try this one," Mr Ollivander said finally, lifting a wand out of the box. "Holly and dragon heart-string, ten inches." Nathalie, by now thoroughly bored, took the wand and carelessly waved it. Harry suddenly yelped as bright sparks shot up at his face.
"Careful, Nathalie," he admonished, then looked up at Mr Ollivander. "Is this the one?"
Mr Ollivander nodded. "Yes, I think it is," he said decisively. "That's eleven galleons." He took the wand back from Nathalie, who was now looking very pleased with herself, and put it back in the box. Harry, after digging about for a moment in one of his cloak pockets, produced eleven galleons, and then Nathalie tucked her new wand into a pocket of her own cloak.
"I was wondering," Mr Ollivander said slowly, "if your own wand is still in good shape, Mr Potter."
"Yes, thank -" Harry cut himself off, and stared in shock at the wand- maker. "How on earth?" he breathed. Nathalie, a little confused, took cover in the folds of Harry's cloak.
"There's an anti-illusion spell put over the whole shop, Mr Potter," Mr Ollivander said airily. "A wand can't choose a wizard - or witch - when the owner is under a glamour and I can't really see them."
"So why aren't there Aurors swarming the place right now?" Harry demanded curtly. "I'd have thought you wouldn't want us to go loose - after all, everyone else has that attitude."
Mr Ollivander gave him an overly-patient look. "Mr Potter, what you are, and what your daughter is, is absolutely none of my business. All I do is sell wands. And there's a small yard through the back door, you can Apparate from there."
Harry stared for a moment, then grinned despite himself. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "Come along, Nathalie."
"Thanks," Nathalie called back to the wand-maker as Harry pulled her through the shop. Mr Ollivander waited for a minute or two, then went to the fireplace in the corner and threw some powder into the fire.
"The Ministry, Auror department," he stated clearly. A head appeared. 'Ah yes. I'd like to report a sighting of Harry Potter. He was in Diagon Alley, heading towards Knockturn Alley."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
To be continued.