Disclaimer: I don't own a thing! (unfortunately)
"…" speech
Bold parseltongue
italics thoughts
Chapter 4
The next day saw Harry darting madly around the room with only one sock on trying to eat, comb his hair and get dressed all at the same time. It was ten to twelve and the professor from Hogwarts would be arriving any minute. Harry had, unfortunately, slept in. Normally he would have his Aunt screaming at him to get up at around six a.m but after yesterday's … events, all the Dursleys were still cowering in their bedrooms, refusing to move. Not even Dudley left, even though he had to miss four of his favourite TV programs. Finally, just as Harry was finished getting ready, the doorbell rang. Rushing downstairs with Isis draped around his neck Harry skidded to a halt in the hall. But before Harry opened the door, he paused to wipe his face of any emotion. He went from being a rather hyperactive and clumsy looking kid to being a calm, even bored looking child who gave off a sense of power, or at least that's what Harry liked to think. Opening the door Harry found a tall, greasy haired man standing on the doorstep. The thing that Harry noticed most, however, was that this man looked dangerous to cross. He seemed like a dark brooding shadow and, what's more, he seemed just a little bit irritated. Raging mad would not be an understatement. And what was worse was that the anger seemed to be directed at him.
"Ah, you must be Harry Potter I presume," said the man in a soft, silky voice. "I am Professor Snape and will have the dubious pleasure of introducing you to the wizarding world." Yep thought Harry this man has 'bad guy' written all over him. He has it all, the greasy hair, the dark cloak, the sarcasm. Out loud he said "It is a pleasure to meet you to Professor. Where will we be buying my school stuff?"
"Diagon Alley," said Snape with a sneer. He then grabbed Harry's hand and shoved an old trashcan into it. Harry immediately felt a jerk behind is navel and next second he was standing in a rather crowded street outside a grubby-looking pub. "Well don't just stand there staring. Follow me," sneered Snape and swept off. Great, just great, thought Harry. My overgrown bat of a teacher hates me and I don't even know why. Sighing, he followed Snape into the pub, which seemed quite full.
"Anything I can do for you, sir?" said the barman who seemed friendly enough, if a little nervous. Harry didn't blame him. Snape was definitely not a man to be taken lightly and right now was shooting his 'I would hex you into next week but you're not worth the bother' glare at the barman. The barman was distracted though at the sight of Harry and stared at him, seemingly in shock.
"It can't be Harry Potter!" he exclaimed. He hurried out from the behind the bar, rushed towards Harry, and seized his hand, tears in his eyes. "Upon my word! What an honour. Welcome back Harry Potter, welcome back." Immediately there was a great scraping of chairs and next moment Harry found himself shaking hands with everyone in the place. If Harry hadn't been used to controlling his emotions he would be gaping right now. How the hell did these people know his name? He didn't even know them. What really got to him though, was the fact that everybody liked him. He was so used to people acting like he didn't exist that he found the happy smiles he was receiving quite overwhelming. Luckily, it didn't last long. Growling in annoyance, Snape grabbed Harry by the arm and steered him from the pub into a narrow alleyway, ignoring the protests from the crowd.
What the hell was that about? demanded Harry of Nemesis.
Absssolutely no idea. I alwaysss thought humansss were weird and that clinchessss it, hissed Isis. Harry could do nothing but agree. Those people had definitely been acting oddly. Maybe it was a wizard thing? thought Harry. Screwing up his courage he decided to ask Snape, who was now drawing what Harry presumed was a wand and walking towards a nearby wall.
"Professor Snape? Forgive me for asking, but was that normal behaviour for wizards?" asked Harry. Snape turned to him with an exasperated expression on his face.
"Of course it's not normal behaviour," he replied impatiently. "It's because you're the bloody boy-who-lived."
"Because I'm the what?" asked Harry who was now officially bewildered. Snape stared at him in shock.
"Are you telling me you don't know about you-know-who?" he said.
"No, I don't know who, that's why I'm asking," said Harry a trifle impatiently. Were all wizards completely barmy? Snape was now looking at him with a calculating expression on his face.
"I will tell you, Potter, but it might come as a bit of a shock. Many years ago there was a dark wizard called Voldemort. He began gathering followers and rose in power. Many tried to fight back, of course, but he was gradually taking over. In the end he had almost won. People feared him and didn't put up much of a fight. They even feared to speak his name, preferring to call him You-Know-Who or equally ridiculous titles. Then one night he decided to attack your parents. He turned up at their house and killed them. He then turned his wand on you. Unfortunately for him the curse backfired and hit him instead, defeating him. He is not dead of course, though some believe so. He is in hiding somewhere, too weak to carry on. You on the other hand, became famous for defeating the greatest dark wizard in centuries at the age of one. Does that answer your questions?" he ended dryly. Harry's mind was reeling. In his mind he heard screaming, a flash of green light, laughter and pure pain.
"Potter? Are you listening?" snapped Snape, wrenching Harry from his memories.
"Yes sir," said Harry dazedly. "It just came as a bit of a shock. I was always told that my parents died in a car crash."
"Indeed," sneered Snape but there was not as much malice in it now. "Now are you going to hang around here all day or are you ready to leave?" with that he turned and started tapping the bricks on the wall next to him which moved aside, opening up into a large street, packed with people. "Please keep your scar hidden. I do not want to be mobbed by reporters," said Snape striding through the crowd glaring at everyone who glanced his way. "First stop is Gringotts. We have to pick up your money." Wisely refraining to comment on the fact that he didn't know he had any money, Harry hurried to keep up while hissing comments to Isis and looking at all the amazing things around them.
I am sssorry Harry, hissed Isis. I did not know of thisss boy-who-lived thing. I have heard of Voldemort however. He wasss alsso a ssssnake sssspeaker. He isss the reason everyone hatesss snakes ssso much. She was cut off by them having reached their destination. They were standing in front of a towering, pure white building. Staring at the wizened creatures that hurried to and fro Harry decided that the first thing he would do with his money was buy a book that would tell him what the hell they were. He would then buy anything he could find on Voldemort. He hated not knowing things and was determined not to be in the dark for any longer. When they reached the main desk Snape started talking, well actually giving orders, to the goblin in charge. Harry let his mind wander until he heard "top secret"… "vault seven hundred and thirteen."… "Dumbledore". They were talking in very low voices meaning that no matter how hard he strained to hear he couldn't, leaving him to ponder the significance of the words. He soon put it out of his mind though, as he was again dragged off, this time to what looked like a small railway. One wild cart ride and two stops at vaults in dark and winding passages later, Snape and Harry, whose pockets were fairly bulging with gold, were pushing themselves once more through the crowds. "Well you may as well go and spend your hard earned money and buy your robes," said Snape sneering. "I have some rare potion ingredients to buy." Without another word he swept of into the crowd leaving a pissed off Harry outside a shop called 'Madame Malkins robes for all occasions.' Well, I guess I may as well get started, thought Harry with a sigh. Entering, Harry was accosted by a squat, cheerful witch dressed in mauve. "Hogwarts dear?" she asked.
"Yes," replied Harry. "I need school and everyday robes."
"Of course, dear. If you could just stand on this footstool while we measure you." She led him to the back of the shop where a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing. Madam Malkin stood Harry on a stool next to him, slipped a long robe over his head and began to pin it to the right length.
"Hullo," said the boy, "Hogwarts to?"
"Yeah, my first year," said Harry.
"My fathers next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice.
"I thought that you actually had to be there when you by a wand. I mean it's the wand that chooses the wizard, not the other way round," said Harry, slightly confused.
"I know, but try telling her that. She just won't listen. Anyway, what I really want to do is look at racing brooms. I don't know why they don't let first years have their own."
"I know. I think it's something to do with it being unfair to muggle-borns or something. Play Quidditch at all?" asked Harry. Isis had told him all about the sport. He had never seen a game, of course, but he understood the basics, and was determined not to sound like a brainless idiot in front of this boy.
"Yeah I do. It's the best sport in the world if you ask me." They spent a good fifteen minutes discussing the game. Every so often they gave a few directions to the witches doing their robes. Harry was getting loads of everything, thinking that with his newfound money he may as well be well dressed.
"Say, do you know what house you're going to be in?" asked the boy suddenly.
"Not really. No one really knows until they get there, do they? My mother was a Slytherin and my dad was a Gryffindor. So either one of those I suppose."
"Odd combination," remarked the boy. "Where are they by the way?"
"They're dead," said Harry shortly, not wanting to go into it with this boy, even if he did seem quite friendly, though spoiled.
"Oh, I'm sorry for bringing it up," he drawled, though Harry wasn't sure if he was being sincere. "Who did you come with then?"
"I live with my mother's relatives who are muggles, so Professor Snape brought me," replied Harry.
"Really? He's my godfather you know. Hey! Is that a snake?" he had just caught sight of Nemesis who had gotten bored with skulking in Harry's jumper and had decided to see what was going on.
"Yeah, her names Nemesis. She's my pet," said Harry, grinning and ignoring Isis's protests. (Pet! I am no mere pet, you smug insufferable git!)
"That's so cool! I'm going to bully father into getting me one," said the boy excitedly. "By the way, what's your name?" Just before Harry could answer, Madame Malkin said, "That's you done, my dear," and he hopped down off the footstool and went to pay for his robes. Harry then decided to go and buy the rest of his stuff as there was no sign of Snape. He visited the apothecary, where he bought all his potions ingredients. He then went and purchased a cauldron, weighing scales and a collapsible telescope. He also decided to get an owl to use as a messenger. The one he bought was pure black with white tipped wings. Harry, after some thought and a lengthy argument with Isis, decided to call her Hedwig. He then went into Flourish and Blotts. Half an hour later he was still there with his nose buried in 'I'm Not Paranoid, I Only Think That Everyone Is Out To Get Me' by Alastor Moody. He had a huge pile of books beside him including 'Curses That Should Be Illegal But Aren't', 'Charms, A Guide To', 'All You Want To Know And Some Things You Don't About Dark Wizards.', 'Excuses To Get You Out Of Any Situation', 'A Pranksters Guide To Embarrassing Jokes', and 'Mind Magic. The Theory Of Wandless Magic." In the end he regretfully pulled his nose out of 'Nasty Creatures That Are Just Waiting To Kill You' when Snape arrived growling about "pesky brats who disappear whenever they feel like it." Harry then found himself unceremoniously dragged to 'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC.' The shop was really old and dusty and as soon as Harry stepped into it the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. It reeked of power.
"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. The speaker was an old man with wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop. "Ah yes. I thought I'd be seeing you here soon Harry Potter. You have your mother's eyes. It seemed only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." Mr Ollivander had come so close that they were almost nose to nose. "And that's where…" he touched the lightening scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger. "I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… well, if I had known what that wand was going out into the world to do…"
Behind Harry, Snape shifted uncomfortably which drew Ollivander's attention to him instead.
"Severus Snape. It is a pleasure to see you again." All he got was a sneer in return. "Mahogany, twelve inches. Quite bendy. Excellent for curses."
"Indeed," replied Snape, glaring.
"Right then Mr. Potter. Let me see." Ollivander pulled a long tape measure out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?" he asked.
"Actually, I'm ambidextrous," said Harry offhandedly. Both men stared. Finally Ollivander said,
"Well then. That is very unusual. There hasn't been an ambidextrous wizard or witch in over a century. It is very rare in the magical world. Well, we may as well start finding you a wand then." With that Ollivander was off flitting around the shelves taking down boxes.
"Try this one Mr. Potter. Beachwood and dragon heartstring. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it wave." Harry did as he was told but absolutely nothing happened.
"Try this one then," said Ollivander, handing him another wand. Nothing happened then either. In fact, Harry had to try out over twenty wands before he got the one he wanted.
"I wonder now-yes, why not- unusual combination-ebony and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple. One of the most powerful wands I have. Give it a wave boy." said Ollivander, handing him a sleek, black wand. As soon as Harry took it he felt a warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand and brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of silver and gold sparks shot from the end like fireworks. Ollivander cried, "Oh bravo! Yes indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well… how curious… how very curious."
"Excuse me, but what's curious?" asked Harry while drawing out his money bag.
Mr Ollivander fixed Harry with a pale stare. "I remember every wand I ever sold, Mr Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather- just one other. It is curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when it's brother- why it's brother gave you that scar."
"Are you telling me that he's holding the brother of Voldemort's wand?" said Snape, incredulously, shocked into speaking. Up until then he had remained silent, glowering at everything in sight.
"Yes indeed," replied Ollivander, a bit too happily for Harry's liking. "Very curious, but the wand choose the wizard, remember. I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter. Very great things."
Harry was enthralled. It had always been his ambition in life to become powerful and make everyone sit up and take notice. In one day he had found out that he was famous and that he was capable of becoming a very great wizard. Things couldn't get much better in Harry's opinion as he was yet again dragged from the shop by a pale looking Professor. Harry was still mulling over the day after Snape had dropped him off at the Dursleys. Curled up in his bed reading one of his many books, he felt satisfied. He was that much closer to fulfilling his ambition.
A/N Thanks to all of my reviewers. I'm sorry everyone who wanted him to be picked up by someone else. It just fitted the plot. It might take a while for me to get the next chapter out as I have exams and my parents refuse to let me go on the computer. I'll try my best though! Please review!
Mr Virail: I know but it's just muggle things he's bad at. Harry has better things to do than learn muggle things. He is just not interested enough to try hard. In his view it doesn't matter what marks he gets. Once he gets to Hogwarts he'll really start trying. He is in fact very intelligent.