Something Familiar (Mk.2)
Chapter One : "Do Snakes Even Have Sphincters?"
AKA : "Let's Get Adder Here!"
=A=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=A=
As the clock struck midnight, Harry received the best birthday present of his life.
Granted, that wasn't exactly a high mark to reach. To date he had been given seven presents: four for his birthday and three for Christmas. So far the hunk of raw chicken neck wrapped in a used sock had been his favorite. It clearly wouldn't be good for cooking and probably would have tasted awful even if it was fat bastard's idea of a joke, he supposed. Unfortunately for him, Harry immediately decided it was the perfect size to shove into the small slit he made in Dudley's boxspring.
His 'family' never did find out about that one. After several weeks of putting up with the stench, it was decided that Dudley had befouled himself one too many times. The entire bed was summarily replaced, ridding the home of the smell.
But the chicken neck had nothing on this.
At exactly 12:00.01, a massive boom rocked the small shack. Now, normally the word "rocked" would be used in a figurative sense in a situation like this. That wasn't the case here. The entire structure shuddered and groaned as the bare supports along the wall tilted and flexed.
Another boom came, and then a third. That made three in quick succession, almost like someone knocking. That thought was immediately discarded as being absurd, leaving Harry to wonder who was wasting perfectly good artillery on them.
Needless to say, the other occupants of the room were instantly awake. Vernon rolled off the bed like a one boulder landslide, crushing all in his path. Petunia, who for some godforsaken reason was sleeping on the outside side of the bed, was definitely in his path. She let out a pained squeak as his weight slammed into her. Vernon didn't even seem to notice as he flipped off the bed and onto his feet in an impressive display of agility.
Impressive being a relative term, of course. While not graceful, it was somewhat remarkable that he managed to control the swinging lump of lard that was his gut well enough to end up on his feet.
It was a good thing Harry was still young and naive. If he had been a bit more worldly, the sight of Vernon plowing into Petunia would have surely caused some vomit-inducing thoughts.
(But not as much as the sight of Vernon "plowing" into Petunia would.)
Dudley had barely opened his eyes before his father was hurtling toward him. Just before slamming his son straight through the wall, Vernon threw his weight back and set his feet. He somehow managed to come to a screeching halt just in front of the sofa and quickly grabbed the bottom edge. Crazed strength powered by pure fear surged down his arms as he flipped the piece of furniture, fatass son and all.
Even before Dudley hit the ground his father was opening a small metal box that had been concealed there. He quickly - or as quickly as a man with trembling hands could - worked the latch and popped it open.
To Harry's shock, he pulled out a rifle.
Vernon nearly dropped the weapon as three sharp thuds made the shack release a pained cry. Impossibly, they were even louder and harder than the first set.
Moving frantically, Vernon began loading the rifle. His hands were still shaking, of course, turning the simple action into a herculean task. Four fumbled rounds hit the ground before he finally managed to slide one home. Watching as his uncle struggled to load a second bullet, Harry couldn't help but note that the whole process would have been a lot easier if the idiot had just loaded it ahead of time.
If the first set of knocks had been loud and the second set deafening, the third could only be described as devastating. Tired of simply groaning and creaking, several wooden beams cracked and splintered in a way that didn't look at all healthy. The trio of knocks was clearly a bit more than the shitty old building could take. At least, Harry assumed it was a trio of knocks that caused the destruction. His ears were ringing so badly after the first that he couldn't actually hear the second or third.
The irritating noise faded in a matter of seconds, just in time for him to hear someone calling out.
"Hello? I say, is there anybody there?" they called. The voice was rough and deep, but had a surprisingly refined and cultured sound to it. "I'd appreciate it if you showed a bit of courtesy and let me out of the rain.
The request was met with silence.
"There's no point in ignoring me, you know. I'd have to be quite a berk to get the wrong shanty on an one-shanty island, wouldn't I?"
Vernon shot Harry a look that made it quite clear what would happen if he spoke.
"Oh, yes. Quite the doddle this is, isn't it?" the man outside sighed. "I'd be quite a laughingstock if I caught my death picking up one little lad."
The interior of the shack remained conspicuously silent.
The visitor loudly cleared his throat. "Well then, it seems there's not a lad or lass to be found. Certainly no one would care if I took a gander about. Or perhaps I'll get out of this nasty rain and have a quick kip in that abandoned-"
"Go away!" Vernon shrieked, waving the gun in what he most likely thought was a menacing manner. Harry doubted the man outside would find it so, even if there wasn't a wall between them. "Just- just go away!"
"Aha! Dursley, old boy, is that you?" the visitor asked cheerfully.
"No! No, it's not me! Go away!"
"Don't be daft, man. You'd quite obviously be you, even if you hadn't said as much yourself," the visitor said reasonably. "I'd recognize that girlish squeal anywhere."
Vernon, finally finding some courage, actually shuffled a step towards the door. He was holding the rifle out in front of him, as if it were a stick he intended to poke a tiger with.
Harry was pretty sure that would end quite a bit better than what his uncle was trying.
"I'm telling you, leave! I have a gun! I won't warn you again!" Vernon shouted, buoyed up by the firmest and hardest shaft he'd ever held in his hands.
Even through the wall, Harry swore he could feel the atmosphere change.
"You're armed, are you? Well now, that changes things," the visitor said quietly. "You'd have to be daft to go up against a bloke with a gun."
"Ha! You see-"
The boom that interrupted Vernon was much, much louder than those before. It was also quite a bit deeper and sharper. In fact, it sounded a lot like nearly two kilograms worth of lead pellets - each slightly over 5mm in diameter - being suddenly and violently accelerated to ballistic velocities. Granted, Harry had never actually heard that sound before, but the source became readily apparent when a large serving of lead tore through the door.
The Dursley's screamed in fright and flinched away as chunks of doorknob sprayed into the room. It was probably a good thing, because a moment later said lead shot plowed into the floor and sent an impressive blast of wooden shrapnel across them.
Harry just watched, eyes wide with wonder, from his place in the corner.
His family had barely begun to recover when the door decided to see what flying felt like. Unfortunately, it was discovered it wasn't very good at it. It quickly aborted its attempts, seeking the nearest soft landing spot to cushion its fall. Vernon was knocked flat on his ass, and most likely slightly concussed, as it slammed into him.
The massive figure outside the doorway slowly lowered his foot. He leaned forward and began to shoulder into the hut, then paused and glared at the frame threatening to snag him. Backing out, he delivered another nasty kick to the doorframe. The entrance suddenly discovered it was quite a bit wider than it had thought, easily admitting him.
He was an immaculately groomed gentleman dressed in a very well-cut suit that, despite the weather, was perfectly dry. There was a lot of fabric to keep dry there, considering he was probably three times Harry's height. He would have cut quite the dashing figure, were it not for three things:
The fabric of his suit was a horrendous neon orange.
His undershirt was a bright pink with green stripes so bright they almost glowed.
His tie was black.
Harry wasn't sure why, but it was the tie that bothered him the most. It just seemed so out of place amongst the offensively brilliant colors. It was like a small island of sanity in a vast sea of eye-scorching pain. Somehow, just by being there, it made all the other colors just that much worse.
The man looked back and forth, quickly surveying the interior of the shack with a frown. Finally his eyes alighted on Vernon. The fat bastard was still prone on the floor and staring up at him with a look of shock, fear, recognition and anger.
"Good god, man. The middle of the room? An intruder pounds on your door in the middle of the night and you stand behind it?" the giant man demanded. Sweeping one arm to the side, he pointed the handle of his elaborately engraved cane at Harry. "Now the lad, the lad has some sense. A perfect place to launch an ambush. If an overconfident berk strolled in here to cause some mischief, he'd never see the blade coming. Good show, lad!"
"Uh… thanks?"
"You… It's you…" Vernon whispered. His lips were trembling in his pale face as he examined the intruder.
"Indeed. It'd be a bit of a strange thing for me to not be myself. I've seen stranger of course, but a bloke likes to think he'd know if he wasn't him."
"I should have known you were one of those freaks! You ruined my life!" Finally remembering that he had a gun in his hands, he brought it up. "I'll-"
Incredibly fast, the visitor's hand flashed out to pluck the weapon from the shocked man's grasp. He then proceeded to release his cane and quickly field strip it, sending a small rain of metal parts to the floor. Finished, he reached out calmly and caught his walking stick. The whole thing happened so quickly that it had barely learned a few degrees to the side.
"Well now, that's hardly a way to treat the man who saved your job. You should be thanking me, not telling me to bog off," Hagrid declared.
"You made a fool out of me!"
"I dare say you do a suitable job of that yourself. Besides, you should take pride in your work. Think of all the people you've made happy."
Vernon trembled and glared, but didn't answer.
"There's only a limited market for drills, you know. There's no money in them. But a motor's a motor, and Grunnings makes some damn fine motors indeed," their visitor explained. "Too good, in fact. We've had to put new warnings on the BBC-XL series this last batch. People seem to think '10' is the only setting, and there's been some issues with cracked pelvic bones.""
"Vernon? What is he talking about?" Petunia asked as she hesitantly came to her husband's side. "What's a… BBC-XXL?"
Turning red, Vernon squeaked, "Nothing!"
"You haven't at least told her what you do for a living? Being dishonest for years, just because you're not enough of a man to admit you make- Good lord man!" the visitor suddenly cut off. His eyes widened as he stared at Petunia like he'd just noticed her. "Is that your wife!?"
Vernon responded with a weak nod.
"Dear god. How does that even work?"
The collection of shocked residents looked at him in confusion.
"I mean, it must be like watching a walrus mate with a… with a…"
"Giraffe?" Harry suggested.
The huge man man stared at him for a moment, then began roaring with laughter. "Yes! Yes, exactly like a giraffe! Good show, Harry!"
"You know me?" Harry asked with a look of puzzlement on his face. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I've ever seen you before. I'm pretty sure I would have remembered meeting you. You kind of stand out. Just a little."
Sighing, the visitor replied, "No, we haven't met, lad. I'm afraid there were certain… circumstances that presented a problem in that regard. I was, however, quite proud to call Lily and James Potter my friends. My name is Rubeus Hagrid, and it's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. You may call me Hagrid."
Harry examined the giant's outstretched hand, then cautiously took it. It enveloped most of his forearm, and the ensuing shake was enough to rattle his brain.
"You knew my parents?" Harry managed to get out between minor concussions.
"Indeed. Everyone knew your parents, of course, but I had the honor of knowing them personally. Finer people have never lived," Hagrid said wistfully as he released Harry. "A hero's death suited them, though it was a pity it came so young."
"A hero's death? But my parents died in a car accident. They were drunk."
Hagrid froze. All the friendliness and joviality faded from his eyes as he slowly turned to face the Dursleys. The three, having suddenly been filled with a nameless feeling of dread, quailed under his gaze.
"Drunk… driving?" Hagrid asked between gritted teeth.
Vernon apparently decided to prove that evolution sometimes fails and chose exactly that moment to show a little sack. "Who cares. The freaks got what they deserved. It's what you all-"
"Get out."
Vernon looked at him in confusion, then began to open his mouth again. Before he could speak, the tip of Hagrid's cane slammed down hard enough to bite into the floor. He twisted and shoved down, causing it to shift slightly under his grip and slide down. It produced a loud thunking sound and spat something out the side. The casing hit the floor and rolled to a stop at Harry's feet. It looked somewhat like a shotgun shell, but was significantly larger.
"I will do you the courtesy of informing you that I never miss a target on accident," Hagrid slowly ground out. "I will also warn you that I have never missed the same target twice. Is my meaning completely clear to you?"
Vernon, eyes wide, slowly nodded.
"Good. Now…" Hagrid twisted the cane again. The handle snapped back up into its original position. There was a second loud click, one Harry recognized from the violent action movies Dudley favored. It was a sound things only made when they were about to start spewing lead-fueled death. "...I believe it would be wise if you left. Immediately."
If the Dursleys needed any further prompting, it was supplied when Hagrid raised his cane and very pointedly directed it towards Petunia's head. The woman quickly paled, grabbed her son by the collar, and fled out the door. Vernon was barely an instant behind her, figurative tail between his legs. Harry could just barely hear the sound of a boat engine starting over the sound of the downpour outside.
Harry and Hagrid spent a long moment staring awkwardly at each other, at least one of them a bit shocked by how quickly the boy had been abandoned.
"So," Harry finally began. "How about that local-area sports team? They sure do sports."
"Yes. They certainly do," Hagrid said, nodding sagely. "I must admit, I find it a bit off-putting how quickly you were left behind."
Harry shrugged, looking back over his shoulder. He couldn't even see the departing boat through the widened door. "I'm not."
"And you don't find it concerning at all to be left with me?"
"I already like you better than them," Harry stated. "Besides, you said you knew my parents. How?"
"Ah, yes. How clumsy of me. You have to excuse me, but I'm afraid I've taken a few hits to the ivorys in my time," Hagrid said with an embarrassed chuckle. "I knew Lily and James from nearly the moment they started at Hogwarts."
"Hogwarts?"
"Yes, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The finest - and coincidentally only - magical school in Britain," the giant said proudly. "Incidentally, you're a wizard, Harry. Allow me to be the first to welcome you to the magical world."
"Magical world?" Harry asked, giving him a look of amazement and wonder. "Is it the really scary kind of magic world where everything wants to eat your eyeballs out of your face, or a happy place where birds help you sing songs?"
Hagrid thought for a moment. "Well… Somewhere in between, with a dash of both. I'd suggest staying away from things like the Canadian Bonesucker Moose."
"Yeah, like I need a warning about something really obvious like that."
"..."
"People need that warning, don't they?"
"Yes. Yes they do. I'm afraid sense and wisdom are quite hard to find these days," Hagrid sighed. "Don't worry, though. You seem like an unusually bright lad, so I'm sure you'll be fine."
Harry gave him a faint smile. "I read a lot. I don't have much else to do."
"Well, that's a habit that will certainly serve you well," Hagrid said approvingly. "You'll have much to learn soon. Now, it's best we retire for the day. Tomorrow will be quite busy. Come along."
Hagrid squeezed back out the opening and into the rain. Harry obediently followed him, stretching his arms out to the side out of sheer curiosity. Just like he had suspected, he couldn't even touch the sides of the hole in the wall.
As he stepped out of the shack, Harry's eyes widened. There, parked alongside the dock, was a beautiful red speedboat. It was the sort of thing Harry had seen on TV, displayed in races and boat shows. It looked extremely out of place secured to the old, splintering wooden dock.
Following his gaze, Hagrid smile proudly. "Quite the corker, isn't she? The young master was kind enough to let me borrow her for the occasion."
"Young master?" Harry shouted over the rain.
"Yes. I'm afraid he's quite busy with his studies at the moment. The lad's determined to do his father proud, and he's doing a smashing job of it," Hagrid declared. His proud smile put the last one to shame. "I'm certain you'll meet eventually, but for now rest is your priority. In you go."
Harry carefully stepped up onto the boat and descended through the hatch Hagrid opened. Inside, to his amazement, he found a rather spacious and well-furnished apartment inside.
"Is this Narnia?" Harry whispered. "Do you keep Narnia in your boat?"
Behind him, Hagrid laughed. "No lad, of course it's not Narnia. It's a perfectly ordinary spacial pocket containing a small apartment. Completely normal, nothing fantastic at all."
"I don't think that word means what you think it means," Harry muttered.
"Now then, I'm afraid I won't fit on the couch, but I'm told it's quite comfortable. Get some rest, because tomorrow we will be shopping for your school supplies. It wouldn't do to be knackered, would it?"
=A=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=A=
"This is London. We're in London," Harry observed.
The boat was, in fact, in London. It was an area he wasn't familiar with, but it was definitely from the architecture and general structure of the buildings. It caught him a bit off guard, considering he was pretty sure the lake he'd gone to sleep in wasn't connected to the city in any way.
"Indeed we are. We're on the River Thames, to be exact."
"I'm going to have to get used to things like this, aren't I?"
Hagrid simply nodded and stepped off onto the dock.
Their trip through the city was brief, but followed a route that the boy found impossible to track. At the end of it, he was pretty sure they hadn't gone far at all. It was the sort of trek you'd take to shake off pursuers, which definitely struck him as odd. The fact that it terminated at a child's playground just made it that much odder.
The situation only got even stranger as Hagrid gestured toward a spring horse toy and said, "On you go."
Harry studied the toy. It was a large, bright yellow horse with comical googly eyes, with an orange tail and mane. The whole thing was mounted on a single, massive spring. It would, obviously, allow the horse to swing back and forth in a rocking motion.
"Seriously?" Harry asked blandly.
"Seriously," Hagrid confirmed.
Frowning, Harry slid onto the toy. He bounced up and down for a moment, testing the spring. The horse wobbled slightly under his ministrations.
"Okay… so… what?"
"Now you simply ride it into the magical world," Hagrid replied, gesturing grandiosity.
Harry frowned up at him, then down at the horse. "Okay, now I know you're messing with me," he accused.
"I assure you I'm not. It may sound mental, but you must simply rock with all the force you can muster."
Giving his companion one last suspicious look, Harry began to rock. The horse bucked and swayed beneath him, jerking back and forth in a way that rattled his brain. He couldn't help but wonder who, exactly, would find this 'toy' enjoyable.
"Faster," Hagrid ordered.
"If there's someone hiding in the bushes with a camera, I'm going to be very upset…" Harry muttered, obeying the giant's command. He threw himself - literally - into it, slamming his rather inconsiderable weight back and forth as hard as he could. It slowly picked up speed as he flailed back and forth, reaching a velocity that could by no means be considered safe.
Just as he was actually starting to have fun, the inevitable happened. The horse bucked under him unexpectedly, causing the young wizard to forcibly and involuntarily dismount. With a surprised shout, Harry slammed into the cobblestones.
Wait, cobblestones?
Shaking his head, Harry sat up and blearily looked around. Instead of the playground that should have been there, he found himself in some sort of alley. The ground was, as noted, made of rough and uneven cobblestones. The walls were those of old style brick buildings, stretching up three stories on either side. Behind him was a dead end, likewise brick, with a yellow and orange horse crudely scrawled in chalk.
"Okay, my brain hurts. I'm pretty sure it's not because of the rocks," Harry groaned. "Or maybe it is? Did I just come out of the wall? Did I really- Wait! Crap!"
Harry dove to the side just in time to evade the huge man that flew out of the dead end. Hagrid slammed into the pavement, taking the blow to one shoulder and neatly rolling to his feet. Brushing his suit off, he looked around casually, as if he had just taken a simple stroll down the street.
Harry looked at the wall, Hagrid, and then the wall again. Staring at the chalk drawing, he said the only thing that came to mind.
"Did you seriously just ride the horse?"
"I did indeed," Hagrid confirmed. "It's rather exhilarating, isn't it?"
Harry looked around again. "I guess. I don't really think being here is worth knowing what the ground tastes like. I'm pretty sure I've seen dirty alleys before."
"Ha. A dirty alley, you say? This isn't just any dirty alley. It's Abysm Alley, a rather quiet backdoor to our destination. We wouldn't want too many people seeing you, you see?"
"No, I don't. Why? Did I do something wrong?"
"No, it's just that people would go crackers if I just walked you through a tavern. You're a bit famous, but I don't suppose you'd know that," Hagrid explained. "You killed the last Dark Lord, and ended a rather nasty series of terrorist actions."
Harry gave the large man a puzzled look. "I think you might have the wrong person. I'm pretty sure I haven't done something like that. I mean, I'm pretty sure I'd remember if I killed Sauron or something."
"Well, it would be a bit strange if you did," Hagrid replied. "You were one after all."
Countless different responses went through Harry's mind at that. They ranged from "Are you mental?" to "What the hell is wrong with you?" and a thousand different variations in between. There were so many variations of the words involved that his brain nearly shut down after the seventeenth synonym for for stupid. Luckily, at that very moment he followed Hagrid out of the mouth of the alley.
"Holy crap," Harry gasped, all thoughts of human stupidity blown from his mind.
It was like the main thoroughfare of a charming medieval town, though it was more like a medieval fair than the real thing. People in outrageous clothing filled the street. Looking at the bathrobes, pointy hats and bright colors, it was quite easy to see where Hagrid had gotten his fashion sense.
The idea that it was fair was only reinforced by the bizzare collection of animals wandering around. Canines, felines, equines, avians, reptiles and more were roaming around like they owned the place. A fair number of exotic animals were present too, things that looked like they came straight out of a work of fiction. A jet black horse with a flaming mane, a three headed bird and a dog with a human face were only a few of the examples.
That last one kind of freaked Harry out. He tried his best to be subtle as he hauled Hagrid to the other side of the street in order to avoid it.
"There's a lot of… um… things around," Harry said conversationally, subtly using both hands to yank on Hagrid's belt in an attempt to cross the road.
"Yes, of course. You wouldn't know about…" the giant man trailed off, following Harry's gaze. Paling, he grabbed his smaller companion by the belt and hauled him into the air. He then proceeded to subtly and elegantly move aside, sending severally wizards sprawling as he politely made his way through the crowd. Casting a nervous look over his shoulder, he muttered, "Damn things freak me right out…"
"Huh?"
Hagrid cleared his throat and assumed a pace that, while normal for him, would have left Harry in the dust. The fact that Harry's feet were still hanging a foot above the ground rendered that a non-issue.
"I said we'd best be moving. We've quite a bit to do, so we don't have time to dilly-dally."
"That's not what you-"
"Now, now, we've not time to bugger about. We must, obviously, begin by collecting some funds," Hagrid declared.
Harry shrugged as he flew back and forth, hanging Hagrid's hand like some sort of living pendulum. Truth be told, he was pretty satisfied with hoofing it - or more accurately, swinging it - down the street like that. Being treated like a handbag was a bit odd, but it was kind of fun.
It almost felt like he was flying.
"Hagrid, why was there a… uh… why was..." Harry shuddered and quickly finished, "Dog. Face. Why!?"
Hagrid matched the boy's shudder and raised him a faint, sickened sound. "Because someone or something has a sick sense of humor. Either God or evolution, I suppose. Feel free to take your pick."
Over the years Harry had spent a great deal of time in the relative safety of the town's library. The staff there didn't put up with any sort of shenanigans, ensuring Dudley and his gang never lasted longer before getting tossed out. He, however, never caused any trouble, and was allowed to stay as long as he wanted with just one condition:
He had to be sitting in front of an open book.
Because of that, he had a much clearer understanding of both religion and evolution than most children his age. He briefly considered what sort of evolutionary process would give birth to such a monstrosity, but quickly found himself treading in a place no man should. As such, he quickly turned his thoughts toward intelligent design. Unfortunately, that train of thought quickly ended with hundred-foot monstrosities, tentacles, and words that devoured the mind just by existing.
"Nightmares," Harry whispered. "It wasn't born, it was made of pure nightmare-stuff."
"Aye lad. That it was."
Harry shook his head, trying to dislodge the dark chanting in the back of his mind. "But I didn't mean to as why the… that… was a thing. I wanted to know why all these strange things are here. Is that normal?"
"Ah, yes. Forgive me. The… that… derailed my train of thought. Yes, I assure you, it is quite normal. The creatures you see here, both mundane and magical, are Familiars. Well, most of them, at least."
"Like in books and stuff? Do people usually set them on fire?" Harry asked, pointing at a black horse with a burning mane. " I'm not a horse scientist, but I don't think it's healthy for them to be on fire…"
"That's a nightmare, lad. It would be quite unhealthy for it to not be on fire."
"Huh. I thought Familiars were supposed to be things like dogs and cats. No one ever said anything about- Are people getting into the huge cat!? Is that seriously a cat made of bus!?"
"Don't be absurd. A cat made of bus? Who ever heard of such a thing?" Hagrid chuckled. "It's obviously a bus made of cat."
"I'm pretty sure that's the same thing."
"No, they're not even remotely alike, though many do make that blunder."
Harry gave him a skeptical look. "Sure. I think you're making that up. Or am I supposed to think you're some kind of Buscat expert or something."
"It was a Catbus and, as a matter of fact, I am a Catbus expert. Well, general Arcane Zoology, but I believe it still counts. I received my mastery from the Salem Advanced Speleology Society. I'm quite learned in mundane Zoology as well."
"...you went to SASS? Does that make you SASSy?"
"That's the part you choose to focus on?"
"What? It's funny," Harry giggled.
"Be that as it may, it's also one of the few magical institutions open minded enough to educate someone who can't cast spells. It's quite rude to laugh about it due to a poorly thought out acronym."
Harry looked up at him curiously. "You can't use magic?"
"Not at all," Hagrid confirmed. "My magical core was sealed. It's left me completely knobbled. I can't cast even the simplest spell."
Harry frowned. Twisting around a bit, he craned his neck to look across Hagrid's body. Fixing his eyes on the shining, engraved metal of his cane, he said, "But you have a gun in your cane. That doesn't seem like a bad trade to me. It's a big gun and everything."
"Big? Hah. Come around for a cuppa sometime. I'll show you something really big."
"...you know you probably shouldn't say stuff like that when you're dragging a little boy around, right? Or is that kind of thing normal? I was kind of expecting you to sell me off to someone anyway, but I'm having second thoughts now that we're getting down to it."
"I see you've learned some questionable things for such a young boy," Hagrid said disapprovingly. "I should have had someone lean on that naff and force him to take those invitations. You would have had a proper education."
"Huh?"
"You received several invitations to no less than three private institutions."
"Oh," Harry said, nodding. "I remember that. Uncle Vernon tried to send me to an institution, but they said I wasn't old enough."
Hagrid's left eye twitched slightly. "Not that kind. The good and proper kind."
"I never got anything like that," Harry said with a confused look.
"Yes. You did. Believe me when I say I know that as an incontrovertible fact. At least one of them was for the very same institution that my former lord attended," Hagrid muttered darkly. "We'll see how things go now that there's no need for an intermediary…"
"What?"
Hagrid's face immediately brightened, the dark scowl evaporating like it was never there. "Oh, don't mind me. It appears I'll have to see a man about a dog later. Nothing to worry yourself about."
"The dog doesn't have a person-face, does it?" Harry asked with obvious concern. "Because if it does, you should probably see a different man about a different dog."
"Trust me, that would be the last dog that man ever saw…" Hagrid declared with a shiver. "And, to answer your prior question, that sort of thing is not prevalent in our society. Not in most families, anyway, but those are the ones that tend to favor inbreeding anyway."
The next hour was a whirlwind of blinding activity, so busy and fantastic that Harry could barely keep up with it. He found himself plunged into a new world more fantastic than he had ever imagined possible. His young mind could barely keep up with the new sights and sounds.
Yeah, just kidding.
In reality, he spent the hour standing in line. A really, really long line. Counting the loose threads in the robe of the person ahead of them was as close to excitement as he got. It was about as fun as it sounded, but it was still slightly better than watching paint dry.
He was about halfway through counting the one hundred and fourteen threads for the fourth time when the wizard suddenly stepped to the side, revealing a counter with a strange creature behind it.
Upon seeing the goblin Harry raised his hand, pointed, and said, "Oh, wow. What is that?"
Hagrid's eyes widened in shock and horror, while the goblin's narrowed. A faint, barely audible growl came from the creature.
Harry raised his hand to touch his cheek and continued, "Is it a scar?"
The goblin stared at him for a moment, then reached up to touch the long mark starting just beneath his eye and running down his cheek. "Yes. It is," it answered, studying the young wizard.
"Awesome," Harry whispered. "I've got one too, but it's not that cool. How'd you get it?"
"In a duel with Bloodclaw. The cowardly weakling nicked me with his axe and took a piece of me clean off."
"Did you get a piece of him?" Harry asked eagerly.
The goblin smiled slightly, revealing a mouth full of vicious teeth. "Yes. I caved his skull in with a mace. It still hangs on my wall."
"You have a skull on your wall?"
The goblin nodded.
Harry immediately turned to look up at Hagrid. "Hagrid, can I have a skull?"
"You're a bit young for duels to the death, lad. Perhaps when you're older," Hagrid chuckled, patting him on the head.
"Aww…"
Hagrid turned to regard the goblin. Surprisingly, all traces of annoyance had vanished. Instead, it was looking at Harry with mild curiosity. It was slight, but it wasn't quite the expression of disinterest and disdain they looked at most wizards with.
"Please forgive the interruption. We are here to remove some gold from Mr. Harry Potter's vault." Hagrid placed a small, golden key on the counter. Beside it he placed a small slip of folded paper. "I am also to retrieve an item from vault seven hundred and thirteen."
The goblin took the letter and read it carefully. After a moment, it sneered. "Very well, Hunter. I'll have someone bring you to both vaults immediately. Wouldn't want you getting lost like the fool you are. Griphook!"
Griphook was, unsurprisingly, another goblin. He motioned for them to follow him, then began walking toward a door in the side of the hall. The pair began following him, but Hagrid was brought up short as Harry suddenly paused and turned to call, "Thank you, miss!" back the way they'd come.
Hagrid caught a brief glimpse of the goblin's shocked look as they left through the door.
"Miss?" Hagrid asked quietly.
"Yeah. She was nice. Why, was that bad?"
"It is simply surprising. Most can't tell the difference," Hagrid explained. "Though, in the future it would be best to refer any female goblins you meet as 'wench' or 'whore,' rather than a polite term like 'miss.'"
Harry gave him a confused look. "That seems really mean."
"Goblins are a strange lot. The more disrespectful you are, the better. Unless, of course, you are actually being disrespectful. They're quite able to tell the difference," Hagrid said with a laugh. "If a goblin bows and scrapes before you, they are being quite rude. It's amusing to see them do it to 'noble' wizards who clearly mistake it for true respect and humility. Being polite is essentially a way of saying you're too weak to deal with the abuse."
"This place is weird," Harry decided, shaking his head. "What's in vault seven hundred and thirteen?"
Hagrid shrugged, but also turned his head to hide a disapproving frown. "A small parcel that the Headmaster could not retrieve himself. He's a tad busy getting ready for the school year."
They finally caught up to a clearly annoyed Griphook, who held a large iron door open for them. Slipping through, Harry was a bit surprised to discover that he wasn't in another beautiful marble hallway. Instead, the space beyond was something like a narrow cliffside. A set of rickety looking tracks wound past on a wooden scaffold of questionable stability. Peering over the edge, the impressed boy stared down into the darkness, trying to see the bottom.
Griphook put a hand to his mouth and let out a piercing whistle. There came a clattering from the darkness, and a minecart rolled up beside them.
"Is this a rollercoaster?" Harry asked in awe. He barely seemed to notice as Hagrid hastily hauled him away from the edge and set him in the cart. Studying the ancient vehicle, he poked at the damp boards a few times. "I didn't know goblins had rollercoasters. The stories never said anything about that, either..."
"They don't," Hagrid hastily said.
"But we could," Griphook added with a grin. "Quite easily."
"How fast does this thing go?" Harry asked eagerly.
Hagrid had just enough time to whisper, "Dear god," before Griphook cheerfully slammed the lever at the front as far forward as it could go.
Harry had, obviously, never been on a rollercoaster. The Dursleys had taken Dudley to an amusement park a few times, but he'd always either been left in the car or locked in his cupboard. But, even with nothing to compare it to, he could confidently say Disney World had nothing on the goblins.
Harry, grinning so wide he though his face might split, hopped out of the cart. He skipped onto the rough stone floor, then wirled to look at Hagrid. The huge man was still standing motionless in the cart, jaw clenched and hand wrapped so tight around his cane his knuckles were white.
"Hagrid?"
"Give the Hunter a moment, brat. He's struggling with his own pathetic weakness," Griphook snapped.
For a split second Harry gave the goblin a shocked and annoyed look. It was only an instant, though, as something clicked in his brain. "Oh. Okay. So… why do you call him Hunter? The la- uh… wench. The wench upstairs called him that, too," he asked awkwardly.
Griphook examined him for a moment, then smiled. Harry was pretty sure it was a smile, at least. It certainly showed a lot of teeth. "Because we are accustomed to indulging wizards and their pathetic pretensions of grandeur."
"Oh. You don't like him at all, do you?"
Nodding solemnly, Griphook agreed, "All wizards are worthless and weak, but the hunter is among the worst."
"Wow. I didn't know Hagrid was that pathetic," Harry declared in an impressed tone.
"A bit more so at this moment than most," Hagrid muttered, carefully climbing over the side of the cart.
Griphook brushed past Harry, giving a slight push to shove him out of the way. "I'd rather not waste more time on you than necessary. Let's be quick about it."
"Like you have anything better to do," Harry hissed without thinking.
He might have been mistaken, but he could swear he caught a glimpse of another smile on Griphook's face as he turned to open the vault.
He decided he liked goblins.
They were fun.
There was a faint, metallic ping as Griphook twisted the vault's key. It was immediately followed by a much louder thunk. The vault slowly scraped open, the Hagrid-high doors shuddering and trembling as they slid across the floor. A large cloud of sulphurous smoke rolled out of the widening opening. A dim light sprung to life, followed by at least a dozen more. They brightened in intensity until Harry was nearly blinded by piles of shining metal. Finally they died down to a more tolerable level, allowing him to actually see into the vault.
"Really?" Hagrid sighed. "The bloody theatrics and everything?"
Griphook snorted. "I'm not the fool who paid for the vault, am I? We don't even offer that package on this type of vault. It was specially requested."
Hagrid sighed, and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Bloody Potters…"
Harry stared into his vault with a look of disbelief on his face. There was gold in there. There was a lot of gold in there. There was so much gold in there that it probably would have given his uncle heart failure if he knew about it.
"The Potter trust vault," Hagrid announced. "It contains funds set aside for your schooling and rearing."
And it also contains far too much. No wonder the Dursleys were barely above middle class, even after Grunnings was purchased. What is that barmy old fool thinking?
Dealing with the Dursleys had been problematic. The rather questionable protections that had been placed on Harry insured that no one with a magical core could interact with neither him nor his relatives directly. Even Hagrid, with his sealed core, couldn't meet them directly until the wards had lifted.
Luckily most wizards considered Muggles so far beneath themselves that they didn't even take them into consideration. Muggle agents, combined with modern technology like video calls, were fairly effective in circumventing the spells. But even then, Hagrid didn't dare to interact with the family more than necessary. He wasn't the only wizard that had experience with the Muggle world, and attracting the wrong sort of attention would be a major issue.
He was under strict instructions to lay low, keep quiet and obediently follow his other instructions. He wasn't a fan of it, but understood why it was necessary.
From the look of it, the Dursleys were getting barely enough to pay for his necessities, if that. Being another mouth to feed, it was little wonder Harry had been considered nothing but a burden. Hagrid had no doubt he would have had problems with his relatives anyway, but that had surely added to them.
Harry was a financial burden, and one they clearly didn't like to being with. So why on the Earth had they kept him at all…?
"This is all mine?"
Griphook released a small, short bark that might have been a laugh. "A coin in the purse."
"Yes, yes, let's be along," Hagrid prompted, sweeping a pile of coins to a sack. "I'd rather not spend more time in this animal's company than needed."
The trio hopped back into the cart where, to Harry's disappointment, Hagrid forcibly slammed his cane down in front of the lever, preventing it from going more than halfway forward. They rolled along at a much more sedate pace, eventually stopping in front of vault seven hundred and thirteen.
Harry examined the keyless door. "How do you open it?"
"Like this," Griphook replied, stroking the door. The thick metal rippled and flowed away like water, vanishing into the walls. "If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked in and trapped."
"Are there any skulls in there?" Harry asked eagerly.
"They're not worth your time, brat. A piece of rubbish would make a better trophy than the skull of a thief," Griphook growled. Something about his tone suggested it wasn't the polite type of rude.
Hagrid strode back out of the vault carrying a small package. "Bloody nutter and his lemon drops," he muttered, glancing down at Harry.
"Lemon drops? He keeps lemon drops in there?"
"Round, gold and highly sought after," Hagrid confirmed, patting the package. "The old man's a bit barmy, lad."
"Oh," Harry said, a bit disappointed. "I thought it would be some kind of super magic thing. Maybe the One Ring or something."
On the way back out Harry 'accidentally' bumped into Hagrid's cane, tapping it to the side before he could stick it in the lever's slot. Griphook gleefully kicked the lever forward again, sending them rocketing down the track.
"Bloody goblin humor," Hagrid muttered as he unsteadily walked out the front door of Gringotts.
"I like them. They're fun."
"You're as much of a nutter as they are," Hagrid sighed. Pointing, he continued, "We'd best get your robes, lad. Head down to Madam Malkin's there. I've a quick doddle, but I'll be right around to pay."
Shrugging, Harry headed down the street, pausing every now and then to study one of the more exotic familiars.
Hagrid watched him for a moment, then quietly slipped around behind a building. Once there, he withdrew a small, muggle-style notepad and pen. He quickly jotted down a few words, then watched intently as more appeared on their own. Frowning, he brought the pen up again. The huge man spent several minutes like that, quietly writing in the notepad and reading the words that formed themselves.
Harry, meanwhile, was watching with interest as a tape measure darted around, wrapping or measuring seemingly random parts of his body. He couldn't help but wonder what the distance between his first and third toe had to do with robes, but kept quiet. In theory, the woman here knew more about it than him.
The boy being measured beside him had been watching quietly, obviously assessing him. It was starting to make him a bit uncomfortable by the time the blond said, "Hello. Hogwarts too?"
"Yes," Harry replied. Unspoken went the thought, Isn't that a really dumb question? Didn't Hagrid say there was only one school?
"My mother's up the street buying my books and Father's looking at wands."
"Oh, that's nice. My parents were either brutally murdered or got themselves killed horribly while they were drunk. It depends on who you ask," Harry stated.
The blond stared at him in shock.
"D- do you know what house you'll be in?" he finally asked. "I'll probably be in Slytherin, just like my parents."
The hell is a Slytherin?
"Really, Slytherin?" Harry asked curiously. People were almost always willing to talk more than they were to listen, and hardly ever noticed when you weren't really saying anything at all.
"The house of serpents, clever and ambitious. It fits me to a T," the blond announced proudly.
Harry though for a moment, then nodded. "Maybe I'll be a Slytherin, too. The Adder would be really happy about that, I think."
"The Adder?"
Harry reached into his clothing, shoving his hand under both the robe he was being fitted for and his own sweatshirt. He fished around for a moment before smiling triumphantly. There was an angry hiss as he hauled a thirty-inch snake out of his clothing.
Dude, what the hell!? it spat.
The blond, suddenly finding himself facing a snake at very short range, recoiled violently. He took a quick step back, caught his foot on a measuring tape that was sizing his achilles tendon for some reason, and went crashing into a stand full of fabric.
Ooh, bet he felt that. Man, what a pussy, the Adder hissed, locking his eyes on the source of the noise. Damn, he looks like a poof. Like, big time. You'd think he'd like snakes. Of the trouser variety, of course.
"Be nice," Harry said, lifting the Adder to give him a disapproving look.
What? All I'm saying is he's probably played 'Snake In The Grass' a few times. I mean, look at him. He's practically wearing a sign saying 'designated bottom' around his neck.
Sighing, Harry held the snake out towards his companion. The blond frantically tried to crawl further back into the mess of fabric.
"See? This is the Adder. He's an adder."
Yeah, no shit.
"He's also kind of a dick," Harry continued. "But he doesn't bite people, so you don't have to worry about that. Do you want to hold him?"
What!? No fucking way! Do you have any idea where those hands might have been?
"No! No thank you. I'm good!"
"Are you sure?" Harry asked. He was holding the Adder by the tail and swinging it back and forth. Each time it reached the end of its arc, the other young wizard flinched away.
Whee~!
"I'd rather not. Really," the blonde said quickly. "I- I mean, thanks anyway, but no. I don't like snakes very much."
Wow. What a little pus-
The Adder's remark was cut off as Harry shoved him back into his shirt. "Oh. Okay. Isn't that a little weird, though? You just said you wanted to go into the snake house."
Still staring up at him warily, the blonde mumbled, "That doesn't mean I have to like snakes. I-"
"Draco! What are you doing on the ground?" someone snapped from the room's entrance.
Turning, Harry examined the man striding into the room. He looked almost exactly like Draco, but with a considerably more adult face and build. He was wearing an open shirt with ruffles at the edges. Over it he wore a black and silver overcoat. His smooth, belted pants hung low on one side, revealing quite a bit of hip.
Holy shit, the Adder hissed from where he was peeking out around Harry's neck. I take it back. He looks like a poof.
Absently, Harry nodded.
Draco quickly scrambled to his feet, knocking another display over in his haste to rise. "I'm sorry, father. I… I tripped over the tape."
"Have some class, Draco," Draco's father scolded. He snapped open a folding fan and began fanning his face. With his other hand he held a black and silver cane covered in serpent patterns. "Malfoys do not crawl around on a filthy shop floor."
Wow. Bet you never thought you'd be glad your daddy's dead, the Adder hissed in his ear.
Harry nodded again.
"Oh, what do we have here?" the Malfoy patriarch cooed. He leaned down and began studying Harry's face from a distance that was far too close to be comfortable. "Such a lovely face. You really should take better care of yourself, darling. A little touch up and you'd be gorgeous. I could point you towards a wonderful shop, if you'd like."
Harry tried to subtly shuffle backward. "No. No, I think I'm good. Thanks, though."
"Very well. Some people do look quite nice au natural. Perhaps you'll grow into your beauty... Yes, give it a few years and I think you'll be spectacular," the wizard sighed. "My name is Lucius Malfoy, but you may call me Luscious. All my friends do. If you ever want some pointers, feel free to send me an owl."
"I- I wouldn't want to put you out…"
"Nonsense. Cultivating beauty is its own reward," Luscious declared, fanning himself. "Speaking of which, I'm afraid Draco and I must go. I saw a necklace that he must absolutely must try on. I'm certain it'll look fantastic."
"Father, I don't need a-" Draco tried to protest as he was pulled out of the room.
Luscious snapped his fan closed and gave his son a light rap to the head. "Nonsense. You're a Malfoy. We can't have you looking like a pauper. Oh, and there was a lovely pair of earrings!"
Harry watched them leave, warily following their progress until they were out of sight. He waited a few breathless seconds and, when they didn't come back, finally relaxed.
"Wow. That happened."
I swear, my sphincter closed up tighter than Fort Knox.
"This world is a frightening and terrifying place. I had no ideas such horrors existed," Harry declared in a weak whisper.
I can't even get raped and I almost shat myself, the Adder said. Wait… Snakes are rape-proof, right? I mean, who rapes a snake?
"I dunno. Someone that really likes snakes, I guess."
Thankfully, Harry managed to finish and receive his robes without any more emotional trauma. Hagrid, true to his word, arrived just in time to pay for the clothing.
"I really wish you could have come sooner, Hagrid. Please don't leave me alone again," Harry pleaded. "There was this guy. This really, really freaky guy. He was-"
"-Lucius Malfoy?" Hagrid finished. "Harry, you should stay away from that bloke. He's dangerous."
"Yeah, no kidding. The Adder almost crapped himself. Neither of us would've like that."
"No, lad, I meant he's a dark wizard. He practices… Wait, the Adder?"
Without a word, Harry reached into his shirt and hauled the Adder out again.
What the hell man!? Again!? Did you seriously do that again!?
Hagrid studied the serpent. "Vipera berus. The common European Viper. You… had a snake in your clothing. You've had that with you the whole time?"
'That?' Wow, what a prick. You woke me up for this?
"He's not a 'that,' Hagrid. He's the Adder. He's my friend," Harry scolded.
"Harry, that- He is a dangerous creature. They have been known to bite, and their venom is quite unpleasant. It would be best if you put him down," Hagrid said slowly.
Harry held the Adder up. "The Adder isn't dangerous. He wouldn't hurt you unless you deserve it, and he wouldn't hurt me at all. Besides, the poison isn't that dangerous. It just made Aunt Petunia really sick."
"It bit your Aunt?" Hagrid exclaimed.
Call me 'it' again and I'm gonna bite the stupid off your face. That'd suck, because I'm pretty sure I'd run out of bite before you ran out of stupid.
"It wasn't his fault. She tried to hurt one of his friends. He wanted to tell her it wasn't a good idea," Harry explained, deciding to gloss over exactly who she tried to hurt. "My aunt and uncle can't listen right, so he bit her instead. It's okay, though. I explained why he shouldn't bite people."
Lucky thing she's a huge bitch. No problem biting dogs.
Hagrid examined the young wizard. "Harry… are you saying you can speak to snakes?"
Did this dude eat paint chips or something? the Adder whispered in his ear. Does he think you explain things to snakes via interpretive dance?
Harry nodded. "Yeah. A few years ago some grass snakes started swearing at me while I was gardening. Grass snakes can have nasty little mouths. So I found a bunch of other snakes, and I could talk to them, too. They're a lot nicer than people."
"I see. Lad, it would be best if you didn't talk to them where people can see you," Hagrid said.
Wow. Stupid and racist. You got the whole package on this one.
Harry lifted his hand to his neck and allowed the Adder to slip off. The snake wound around his neck and proceeded to glare at Hagrid.
"They're my friends, Hagrid. Why shouldn't I talk to them?"
"The ability to speak with snakes has long been associated with nutters and lags. If others were to find out you possessed it, they would likely judge you unfairly," Hagrid explained. "You don't have to stop speaking with them, but be cautious about who you do it around."
Reluctantly, Harry nodded.
Buncha pricks. Don't worry, weird-snake-with-four-tails. If anyone messes with you, I'll give them an apple. Every snake knows apples are human Kryptonite, which is kind of sad, the Adder declared. Seriously, who the hell loses immortality because they ate a fruit?
Just bite them. It's easier, Harry hissed. Noting Hagrid looking at him curiously, he plastered an innocent expression on his face and said, "Sorry. I was telling the Adder to behave. They listen to me more when I use the hissy voice."
Holy shit. You better keep your mouth away from the blonde guy. You'll probably explode, the Adder hissed. It came out as the weird sound Harry's brain interpreted as laughter. Eat a fruit? Get it?
Yeah, I got it. Thanks for reminding me about that. I'm really hoping I'm just getting a year's worth of emotional trauma out of the way today.
Poor Harry. If wishes were wings, we'd all be crushed under a suffocating pile of feathered meat.
The next couple of hours were interesting, but not spectacular. Shopping was, without exception, one of the most mind-numbing activities in existence. The only thing that made it tolerable was the variety of odd things the was expected to have. Even then, he was on the verge of complete cognitive shutdown by the time they entered Ollivander's wand shop.
The proprietor himself was probably a 7 on the Freaky-As-A-Malfoy scale. The enthusiastic wandmaker nearly caught a foot to the bollocks when he reached out to touch Harry's scar. Something about an older man reaching out toward his face while holding thirteen inches of wood in his other hand thoroughly disturbed Harry.
Trying to find the right wand was more interesting than anything but Gringotts, but also a bit annoying. He produced faint sparks, a burst of confetti, some vile magical farts, and filled the room with a smell akin to burning cheese, among other things. It seemed like, try as they might, they simply couldn't find the right wand for him.
"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere. I wonder, now… Yes, why not? It's an unusual combination, holly and-"
There was a sudden crash as a stack of used wands hit the floor. The impact jarred several boxes open, sending wands clattering across the floor.
"Oh dear. How very embarrassing. I'm terribly sorry," Hagrid said, looking sheepishly down at what was left of the pile he'd knocked over.
Ollivander examined the fallen wands, then shrugged. "No matter. They're nothing but used wands, nearly worthless. I only keep them for the foolish or desperate. I'll simply clean them up once we're finished here."
"No, no. I insist," Hagrid said as he scooped up a handful of the wands. Frowning, he pointed at a wand laying by Harry's feet. "Lad, could you grab that for me?"
Harry obediently leaned down and grabbed the wand.
It burned. It was like he'd grabbed a rod of red hot iron, but it didn't hurt at all.
"This one," Harry said immediately. "I want this one."
"I would recommend against that, Mr. Potter. Each wizard has a single wand that is meant for them. Using one that belonged to another wizard is like entering a footrace while missing a foot," Ollivander cautioned. "It will never be as well-suited for you as it should be."
"This one," Harry insisted.
"Very well. Please allow me," Ollivander sighed, plucking the wand from Harry's grasp. He studied it for a moment, then frowned. "How very odd. This doesn't appear to be one of mine."
"Is that even possible?" Hagrid asked, eyeing the wand curiously.
Running a finger up and down the wand, Ollivander replied. "Very possibly, Mr. Hagrid. I am certainly not the only wandmaker in the world. I am not even the only wandmaker in England. Another's work does, on occasion, end up in my shop."
"Are you certain it isn't yours?"
Ollivander gave Hagrid an insulted look. "I remember every wand I've ever made. Even if I didn't, I could certainly tell you that I didn't make this," Ollivander insisted. "Ash, twelve and a quarter inches. The core is made from the blood of a Balrog and hair from a Nightmare's mane. I'd be amazed if the creator didn't sear his hand into a useless lump while making this."
"Does that mean it's dangerous?" Harry asked eagerly, accepting the wand back from Ollivander.
"Not particularly. Even a typical wand can turn a man's blood to acid or conjure a bed of razors beneath him. This wand is simply dangerous in a different way. It is made to pour out power with a minimal amount of control, and there is no doubt in my mind it has a penchant for destruction," Ollivander replied. "The risk of harming yourself or another accidentally will almost certainly be considerably higher. I would strongly recommend choosing a different wand."
Harry frowned, then whipped his arm out as he'd done with the other wands. The tip immediately flared to life, engulfed in a brilliant pinpoint of scarlett light. It carved a red arc in the air as it went. The crimson slash hung there, remaining for a fraction of a second even after Harry completed the swing.
"Wicked," Harry whispered, staring at the tip of the wand.
Ollivander regarded the wand curiously as Harry lowered it. "How curious. I don't think I've ever seen a used wand take to someone that well. There was quite a bit of power there but, as I suspected, little control."
Harry turned to look at Hagrid, a pleading expression on his face.
"I don't know, lad," Hagrid said, rubbing his chin. "The gentleman is an expert. If he say the wand is nutters, he's most likely right."
"But I didn't like any of the others," Harry protested. "They didn't feel nice like this one. It's warm and tingly."
Curious, Hagrid reached out and touched the wand. He felt wood, only wood, and it was neither warm nor tingly. "There's sure to be another that suits you well."
"I am reluctant to say this, but you are most likely wrong. It's obvious that wand is quite enamoured with Mr. Potter, while the others were disinterested at best," Ollivander said with a frown.
Hagrid sighed and conceded, "Very well. Just be careful, understand? It sounds like that thing could be trouble if you mug it off."
"Don't worry. I won't turn anyone's blood to acid."
Ollivander nodded in agreement. "Yes, that is unlikely. Accidentally causing a spectacular explosion is much more likely. To avoid that, I will make a very unusual suggestion. I would never recommend it normally, but it may be best if you purchase a second wand."
Hagrid gave him a surprised look. "Why in the world would the lad to that? Wizards that brag about using two wands are all piss and wind."
"Because that wand's performance is lopsided enough to make it of questionable use. It will withstand power that would shatter a normal wand, but will fumble spells of even moderate complexity. It will most likely start causing trouble in Mr. Potter's second year, and a great many spells above third year will be nearly impossible to cast," Ollivander answered. "There is also the minor fact that it will most likely cause any potion that is stirred with it to detonate in an impressive variety of ways. I doubt you'd want to be nearby when he tries to brew a Draught of Living Death."
"Oh dear."
"Yes. As unconventional as it is, Mr. Potter would not exactly be casting with two wands. One moment." Ollivander vanished into the back of the sort. There came an assortment of banging and shuffling sounds, then he reappeared with a box. Opening it, he removed a silvery wand. "Twelve and three-quarters. Birch. It has a core of quartz and pure alpine water. They're often made as practice for a novice wandmaker. They're also very rarely sold to those seeking a replacement wand and unable to find one suitable for their needs."
Harry took the wand and bounced it experimentally, then frowned in confusion. "It barely even feels like it's there."
"Exactly. Practice wands such as that will accept any wizard, favor neither power nor control, and will perform slightly below average in every application. They are completely neutral in every way and completely useless for almost every wizard," Ollivander explained. "You will be able to use any spell effectively using it, though not quite to your full ability."
Harry gave the wand an experimental swoosh. It left a trail of small, shimmering particles that slowly drifted to the ground and vanished.
"You could have a hundred wizards do that and the result for all would be the same."
Harry scowled at the birch wand. Shifting it to his off hand, he swept the ash wand through the air, tearing another glowing arc through it. His scowl immediately vanished, replaced with a happy grin.
"Well then, I suppose that's settled," Hagrid declared.
In the end, Harry and Hagrid left Ollivander's with both the ash wand and the birch wand. They managed to get out of it cheap as well, having been simply given the ash wand.
("It's not like I'll be selling it, but no wand deserves to be simply discarded.")
After they left, Ollivander spent a full minute staring at the sloppy pile of used wand boxes. No matter how he wracked his mind, he couldn't figure out where that thing had come from. Why would he even buy something so absurdly useless? Who would even make it to begin with?
Sighing in annoyance, he chastised himself and decided he'd have to pay more attention to the wands he hadn't made.
Like all good things, Harry's trip to Diagon Alley eventually came to an end. He was, however, left with quite a few impressive memories to sustain him until he left for Hogwarts. Oddly enough, some of the mundane ones were as good as, or even better than, the magical ones.
He never quite got the chance to ask Hagrid why there was a beautiful, white SUV waiting just out of sight down the street as they left the playground portal. He didn't really have the chance to ask why the driver got out to open the door for them. It was only as the vehicle was pulling away from the Dursley home that he realized that, despite the time they'd spent together, he really hadn't learned much about Hagrid.
Actually, the only thing he did know…
Young master. Why would you call someone that? Why would you do it and be so happy? Being a servant isn't much better than being a slave, so why…?
Still, the sight of Vernon's face as the driver opened the door and helped him out of the SUV was priceless, and would warm his heart for years to come.
=A=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=A=
Author's Note
=A=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=A=
I'm correcting errors I found in earlier chapters, so if you get alerts, that's probably what it is. Sorry in advance about the alert spam this may hit you with.
During this process, Chapter 1 somehow got fucked with a cactus. It's fixed now, obviously.
Special thanks to Diakron and A Voodoo Gypsy for pointing this out to me.
As a side note, I'm writing a bit again and actively working on this story. Updates will probably be slower, and won't start until I've written my buffer of several chapters. Chapters are also going to be shorter since, after reading a whole bunch of other amateur fiction, I've decides they're an easier read that way.
