NOTES: Thank you for all the kind reviews. I'm so glad that you think I've managed to capture the spirit of neutral's works. It is high praise indeed. Once again I'd like to reiterate that Harry Potter does not belong to me. The Of Western Stars universe belongs to neutral who gave me permission and approval prior to writing and posting everything in this story.
CHAPTER II: Breakfast at Diagon Alley
Even barely an hour past dawn, Diagon Alley was filled with witches and wizards. The buildings on either side of the narrow cobbled street teetered almost dangerously above the throng of people intent on making purchases. Harry always thought that all it would take was one well placed concussive spell and the buildings would fall over like dominos.
He was sticking close to Padfoot, hood on his cloak drawn up as it was lightly drizzling. They had arrived early because Sirius wanted to have breakfast at the Leaky Cauldron and make a day out of their shopping trip. These plans had been sprung on his godson when the Marauder had found Harry looking though order catalogues with his school list.
"Sacrilege!" he said in mock horror. "If you're going to Hogwarts we are doing things right, that means Diagon Alley for supplies, not owl post!"
So here they were, entering the Leaky Cauldron, the two of them. Remus was to join them later; he'd been out on one of his free-lance slaying assignments over in Ireland and didn't want to travel back in this dismal weather at night.
Sirius pulled off his hood upon entering and was instantly recognized if the sudden silence was anything to go by. Harry didn't move to shed his cloak.
They were all staring at his godfather; he could hear their whispers, see their not so hidden pointed fingers. People were openly gaping as Sirius shepherded them to a corner booth and motioned for a menu.
"All right, Harry?" Padfoot whispered, blue eyes filled with worry.
Harry hated it when Padfoot got worried. Unfortunately Padfoot got worried all the time. But this time there was something Harry could do to help.
Bravely, not wanting Sirius to be gawked at and have to listen to hissed exclamations of "mass murdered" and "Death Eater scum" all through breakfast he pulled back the hood of his damp cloak, deciding to give the patrons of the Leaky Cauldron something else to talk about.
"Blimey! It's true!"
"Look! 'E does have Harry Potter with him!"
"I thought the Prophet said he's been killed by Black."
"Lookit! Lookit! The famous scar."
Sirius' growl filled the young wizard's ears and one large comforting arm pulled him close to his godfather's side. Harry took some solace in the familiar sound. They're just words, he scolded himself firmly. Words don't hurt. Besides, best to get used to it. Hogwarts will be full of people like them.
And no Padfoot beside him.
Stop it! Professor Dumbledore will be there and so will Professor McGonagall. You can't be all alone surrounded by dozens of children your own age.
But even that thought gave pause because the last child that Harry had any contact with was Dudley. Children at school and on Remus' football team never spoke with Harry because of Dudley. What if it wasn't because of Dudley that he was ignored? What if there was something wrong with him?
No, he'd be all right! Hogwarts was where his parents went, where Padfoot and Moony went, where Professor Dumbledore was. It would be all right.
"What would you like for breakfast then, Harry?" Sirius' voice intruded.
He looked up from his clenched hands and saw a flustered man hovering at their table, ready to take down their order. The man was trying not to stare and doing a better job than most.
"Pancakes?" Harry's near whisper filled the room as everyone had stopped talking just to hear him speak.
"Pancakes it is," their host said almost jovially. "Eggs? Sausage? Bacon?"
Harry shook his head, fighting off a shudder and a roll of nausea. "No sausage." He took a deep breath steadying himself. "Scrambled eggs please and some bacon."
The bartender turned waiter didn't seem to be paying attention let alone writing down the order. He looked almost teary eyed. Harry wondered what could possibly be wrong with his order when the man put his hand on his chest and bowed.
"I'd just like to say welcome back, Mr. Potter. Welcome back. They'd been rumors you see. It's so good that you're here."
Harry didn't know what to say. Suddenly people were moving, getting up out of their chairs intent to come over and greet him as well.
But a cool, sharp voice cut through it all like a knife. Sirius stood and everyone took a step back and hurriedly sat back down. "That will be all, Tom," Sirius said slowly handing back the menu to the bartender.
"Of course," the man said almost apologetically. "Right, coming right up, Sirius."
The Marauder took a moment to peruse the room. No one would meet his eye. Satisfied he sat down and turned his attention back to his godson who sat now with his head bowed, trying to hide beneath his wild black hair.
He ruffled the messy hair in a comforting manner. "Hey, we'll have breakfast and then we'll find Moony and go looking for the stuff on your list. Perhaps I might have time for some birthday shopping while I'm here," Sirius said with teasing nonchalance. "Someone's got birthday soon. I wonder what Moony will like, old as he is. A cane? Some false teeth? What do you think?"
Harry smiled and glanced at his godfather out of the corner of his eye, raising his head a little. He knew he was being teased; his own birthday was only a week away while Moony's was not till mid October. "I think--"
"Sirius Black!" A booming voice interrupted as a giant shadow covered them both. Harry looked up and up and saw a huge bearded face staring down at them both. A massive club of a hand reached out and Sirius shook it happily. Harry relaxed. This must be a friend then.
"Hagrid! What are you doing here? Hogwarts not keeping you busy enough?"
The giant man shrugged and smiled. "Jest here ter pick up somethin' for Professor Dumbledore. Waitin' for Gringotts ter open. Gotta get somethin' very 'portant out of Vault 713," he said in a lowered voice. "Hogwarts business yeh understand." He turned his attention suddenly to the boy sitting beside Black, staring at him in half awe. "Blimey! This must be Harry then! Lookit how you've grown." He held out the massive hand again, which Harry kneeled up on the seat to take. "Rubeus Hagrid, Groundskeeper and Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts."
"It's nice to meet you," Harry said softly. He knew this man from the dozens of stories told by his godfather and Moony. Even Dumbledore had spoken of him when they had had their lessons together over the years.
Sirius motioned for the man to sit and Hagrid pulled up a nearby chair, not even attempting to squeeze his massive frame into the booth. "Here with yer Hogwarts letter, then?"
Harry nodded.
Hagrid smiled, vastly pleased. "Knew we'd be seeing yeh soon. Haven't seen yeh since you were a baby, y'know. Still got yer mother's eyes."
Feeling like he knew the man already, Harry sat back down next to Padfoot listening intently as the two of them spoke of Hogwarts, the Ministry, and Professor Dumbledore. Sirius looked happy, breakfast was on its way, and Hagrid's looming shape even sitting down blocked them from unfriendly eyes.
Harry relaxed next to his godfather, hand finding his letter in his cloak pocket and fingering it with renewed excitement. Perhaps today's outing wouldn't be so bad.
They had said their goodbyes to Hagrid soon after visiting the wizarding bank and then headed off to get Harry's school robes.
Sirius said they had ought to get the boring stuff out of the way early which is why Harry now found himself standing on a footstool in a fitting room in the back of the robe shop.
Harry shook the sleeves that hung well past the tips of his fingers up and down, flapping them idly. The boy on the fitting stool next to him stared at him out of the corner of his eye, eyebrow raising. Harry flapped the sleeves a couple more times and then stopped, waiting, trying not to fidget while Madam Malkin puttered about in the storeroom for something or other. In the front of the robe store he could hear Sirius and then suddenly Remus' voice and smiled knowing that the werewolf had caught up with them at last.
"Hogwarts too?" The other boy asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
Harry blinked in surprise as he realized that the boy with the pale pointed face was addressing him and waiting for him to answer back. "Yes."
"You're a bit short for eleven, aren't you?" the other remarked off handedly. "I got my letter last week along with a couple of other schools, but I decided on Hogwarts because my father is on the Board of Governors."
Harry couldn't think of a single response to that statement.
"Even so, he says I still can't take a broom during my first year. Can you imagine? No broom at all. Have you got your own broom?"
"Yes," said Harry tentatively.
"Play Quidditch?"
Ah, this was firmer territory for conversation. "Two man usually."
"I'm going to be on my House team," the other boy said with absolute confidence. "Know what House you'll be in?"
"I thought-- I thought we don't get to know until the first night there."
"Well," the boy said backing up a bit "No one really knows till then, but I know I'll be in Slytherin. All our family have been Slytherin. I can't imagine being in another House. What about your family?"
"They were in Gryffindor mostly."
"So they were both of wizard blood then," the pale boy said with satisfaction. "I don't think they should let the others into Hogwarts. You know, the ones that don't come from all wizarding families."
This was something new. Harry worried his lip as he thought of his muggleborn mother. Why would someone want to keep her out of Hogwarts just because she was muggleborn? "Why shouldn't they?"
"What?" The boy's shocked face was the first non-practiced expression Harry had seen during this whole odd conversation.
"Why? Why shouldn't they be allowed to study magic?"
"Be-because their parents are muggles," he sputtered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"That would only be a problem if their parents went to school," Harry reasoned. "They're wizards, otherwise they wouldn't get letters in the first place."
The other boy struggled for a moment in silence to find an answer. "Well, they're not as good as purebloods."
And obviously he is one, Harry realized, slightly disappointed that the first person he had met his own age reminded him of his cousin. "Why not?" he asked calmly.
"Because!" he snapped. "Don't you know anything? They just aren't."
"Lots of really powerful witches and wizards both good and bad were not from wizarding parents."
"We've been wizards a lot longer than they have," he said with a superior air.
"So?"
"So? So?!" For a moment Harry watched as the other boy looked ready to explode in frustration before he suddenly calmed and looked at Harry intently, as if just now seeing him for the first time as a person he was actually curious to know and not just an audience to talk at. "You're very odd, you know that. What's your surname?"
Before Harry had to face the agony of answering, Madam Malkin returned and finished pinning his robe before lifting it over his head, telling him he was all done, and turning her attention to the other boy. Harry met the boy's eyes in the mirror briefly before hurrying out to join Sirius and Remus.
They paid for the robes and headed back outside. The spots of rain had let up and the Alley seemed to swell with people. They picked up a new cauldron (Lily's had been lost that night long ago on Halloween and James's hadn't even managed to survive Hogwarts) and shiny new brass scales. Moony had already given him his old telescope and Padfoot had miraculously unearthed his own crystal phials, unbroken, from the attic several days ago.
Leaving Flourish and Blotts with what books Harry's extensive inherited-from-Padfoot library was missing, as well as some extra books that caught the eye of all three wizards, Remus suddenly propelled Harry towards Ollivander's with a handful of galleons snatched from Padfoot.
"Harry, you go on and get your wand. We'll join you in a moment, all right?"
Harry looked over his shoulder feeling slightly anxious at being separated from his guardians, but then remembered "Moony's" birthday and nodded. Sometimes he wondered how Remus had ever kept anything a secret when he was so very bad at making up believable excuses. Padfoot was much better at it.
"Moony!" Padfoot hissed, his eyes never leaving the cloaked form of his godson as Harry made his way to the wand shop.
"Let him go alone," Remus insisted.
"But-"
Grabbing his friend by the arm, the werewolf lead him over to Eeylops Owl Emporium and its sister shop next door, Magical Menagerie. "I thought you wanted to get Harry an owl for his birthday next week."
"An owl and a broom," Sirius corrected as they passed Quality Quidditch Supply where the Nimbus 2000 was displaced prominently to drooling aficionados of the sport.
"Harry doesn't want a new broom. He likes the one he has."
"It's old," Sirius complained.
"It was the first birthday present he ever got. He loves his Cirrus 7. Besides he isn't even allowed to bring a broom to Hogwarts. Come on, owl. Now." he said firmly.
"But Harry . . ."
"Will be fine," Remus sighed in exasperation. "Come on!"
A bell rang as Harry entered the shop. Around him in long shelves were stacks of long thin boxes. Harry took in a deep breath, feeling the magic of hundreds of different wand cores float around him. Outside the milky window glass Diagon Alley seemed a world away. The absolute silence of the shop was a welcome relief. The magic made it feel like home.
"Good morning," a soft voice said. Harry didn't jump in surprise; as quiet as the man had been he'd felt his presence walking through the eddies and current of the wands disturbing their flow if only a little.
"Hello," he replied politely.
"I've been expecting you Mr. Potter. You have your mother's eyes and your father's features. As I remember every wand I've ever sold, I remember them." The man suddenly whipped out a tape measure and asked "Which is your wand hand, Mr. Potter?"
Harry looked down at his hands, remembering involuntarily the last time he'd picked up a wand, the feeling of utter completion, singing of power in his veins. Fighting back a shudder he clenched them tight reminding himself firmly that there was no blood, no blood. "I don't know," he said quietly. "I've used both."
Harry looked up, meeting the old man's eyes which were wide with shock and pined him there with his own. "You remember every wand sold. Did you sell a wand to Voldemort?" he asked.
Mr. Ollivander looked visibly taken aback. He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to say I did. Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Phoenix feather. Only one other wand has a core with a feather from that particular phoenix."
"Show it to me?"
For a moment Ollivander looked ready to protest, to deny the demand outright, but he must have seen something in the boy's eyes that made him bite his tongue. He put aside his tape measure and walked into the back of the store. He returned holding a box near identical to all others on the shelves. "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple," he said almost reverently as he opened the box.
Harry stared at the wand lying within and reached out with both hands and lifted it up, examining it close. Taking a deep breath he gripped it with his left hand and reached for the steadily burning core in the center.
His eyes closed involuntarily and for a moment he was back there, back on that horrible fallow pitch at a crumbled ruins of Hogwarts, a twin wand to this in his hand, screams and hexes and curses filling the air that pulsed with the vivid green light of the killing curse. Green like new grass, green like his eyes, green like his nightmares . . .
Pushing the memory aside violently, Harry felt the warmth of the wand fill him and he let down all the self made barriers to his own magic that Dumbledore had helped him fashion when he was younger.
A wand, theory books had explained, was there to focus and give control to a wizard's power. He let his own magic feed back into the wand curious to see if he would no longer need the barriers that curbed the tide of his power now that he was old enough to have his wand.
The wand burned in his hand, shivering and trembling like a thing alive. Harry felt it twitch beneath his fingers, as if it were struggling to keep up with the sheer amount of energy he was letting loose. For a moment, with a flash of disappointment, he thought the burning core would fizzle and die out, but then it rallied and Harry would swear he heard a bird's sweet trill in his ears.
He opened his eyes and found the dark dank shop awash with golden light and red orange sparkles floating and flickering like flame in the air. Mr. Ollivander stood by, mouth gaping wide in shock.
Well, thought Harry. I was right. This is my wand. No other could have even managed that much magic. Except His. He looked down at the holly wood that was rich and lustrous. It had potential. It would take some work to get the wand to respond properly. It would take practice and coaxing of the phoenix core to keep up with power honed by years of practice with wandless magic. But despite the difficulty, Harry knew he could make this wand be a true equal if not superior to its brother. And he knew there was no way he could let on at Hogwarts that he could do most magic without incantations or wands faster and with much better precision. The wand was necessary at the moment; Harry hoped one day it would have adapted enough to actually be useful as more than just a ruse to hide his talent.
Finding his voice Mr. Ollivander quoted the price which Harry dutifully paid.
"Would you like me to wrap it for you Mr. Potter?" the shopkeeper asked staring at the wand in Harry's hand, but making no move to take it from him.
Harry fingered the holly and after a moment shook his head. "Do you have any of the wand wrist holsters in dragon hide?" he asked eagerly thinking of the one Sirius wore customarily on his arm.
"A dueler then?" Ollivander nodded, all business. "Which arm? Left or right?"
Harry bit his lip tossing the wand over to his right hand absently, catching it perfectly, mimicking the move that would bring the wand from his wrist to his hand. He tried it with his left hand, and then with his right again. "Right arm," he said at last.
Mr. Ollivander was unable to find one small enough so he asked Harry to wait while he made some adjustments to the smallest side they had so that it would fit his skinny arm comfortably.
"You may adjust it as you grow, Mr. Potter," he said as he watched Harry with a flick of his wrist draw his wand with a speed even the best duelers would be envious of.
Harry nodded, and reholstered his wand, pulling down his sleeve noting happily that only the most careful eye would notice the holster was even there, even the phoenix core was well shielded by the dragon hide. Harry was paying the sickles for his second purchase when the door burst open and Sirius and Remus entered.
"Have your wand, Harry?" Padfoot asked after nodding his greeting to Mr. Ollivander.
"Yes," he said drawing it to show his godfather. Sirius reached out and touched it gingerly; the power radiating off the wand was strong. He pulled his fingers away as they began to burn.
"Ouch," he said shaking his hand in mild pain. "Phoenix core. Not too common. Very powerful."
Mr. Ollivander snorted. "And you Mr. Black should know about unusual wands. Oak, twelve-and-three-quarter-inches, hair from a Grim and a werewolf."
Sirius drew his wand with the same dueler's move Harry displayed and twirled it once around his fingers. He smirked at the wandmaker. "Yes and I'm quite happy with it."
That was an understatement. After having his original wand snapped, Sirius had custom ordered this one from Ollivander and had sent him many furious letters detailing the specifications he wanted for his new wand. It had nearly driven the wandmaker batty with frustration. But Sirius had a truly unique wand and he never let it out of his sight, he even slept with it under his pillow. It was very good for curses, hexes, and Sirius's favorite subject: transfiguration.
"Come on then, Harry, lots more to do," Sirius said leading the boy out of the wand shop
Harry put away his wand and drew out his list. "I think I've got everything."
"Ah, but there is still the Quidditch store to browse through; that will take a good few hours. We must also have a nice healthy lunch of ice cream. Then there is the Menagerie, as well as the Confectionary. You wouldn't want Moony here to go through chocolate withdrawal, would you?"
"Now wait just a minute. I am not a chocolate addict!" Remus protested.
Sirius shook his head sadly. "Denial. So pathetic. We must cater to his problem for now, Harry, and wean him off it slowly. It's our duty to our friend."
"We should also stop by the joke shop. I don't want you to go through joke withdrawal either, Padfoot," Harry said innocently.
Sirius was stuck without a comeback for that one and was forced to tolerate Moony's teasing for the rest of the afternoon.
