Chapter Two - Diagon Alley
Harry awoke early on the morning of his eleventh birthday. Over the past six years his hair had gotten greasy and his face had become slightly gaunt and thin, though not so much as Sirius was. Speaking of Sirius...
"Oomf!" Sirius woke with a start. "Hey kiddo," he added after getting over the shock.
"Sirius!"
There was a big grin on Harry's face, something which was pretty much new. Rarely did the child smile, though Sirius supposed it may have had something to do with being imprisoned since he was one and rarely being allowed out. But that had phased the child too much as far as Sirius could tell.
"You ready to get taken to Diagon Alley?" Sirius asked, smiling ever so slightly at his Godson's happiness. Harry nodded dutifully, the smile never wavering. Sirius knew this would be a big day for him. It was one of the first days that Sirius knew Harry could remember being off the island. Sirius just wished he could have gone with Harry. Even though over time the magical bond the two shared allowed them to spend more and more time apart without pain, eventually meaning that they would only need to see one another about once a month which would be about when Harry turned twenty, it didn't stopped Sirius wanting to be around Harry as much as possible.
"Yes Sirius," Hary rolled his eyes.
"You positive? Becuase you know you don't have to go today if you really don't want to, right?"
"Yes Sirius," Harry sounded exasperated. "Will you stop fussing over me! I'll be fine!"
"Okay," Sirius sighed, "just be careful."
"I will!" Harry glanced around at the door and saw some of the human guards there. "I'll see you later!"
Sirius watched as Harry walked out, and he really hoped that he would be all right. If he wasn't, someone would pay - dearly.
Harry walked down one of the corridors in Azkaban, his home for the past ten years, more or less, accompanied by a single guard name Mortigan, towards the Governor's office, the only place in the prison that could be flooed to or from. It was almost never used though. Harry felt slightly privileged to be allowed to use it, though he had never used floo before in his life. Why he was allowed to use it, he wasn't quite sure, but he thought it might have something to do with how the only other way out of the prison was by boat, and Harry got seasick pretty easily.
Harry glanced up at Mortigan that was accompanying him to and from the alley. The guard was a friendly enough wizard who hated everyone who was an in-mate, except Harry. Harry wasn't exactly an in-mate, but it was the closest thing that came to describing him. Mortigan smiled when he saw Harry looking at him, then knocked on the Governor's door.
The inside of the room was similar to how it had been two years ago when Harry had last been there. Apparently a riot had broken out then, something rare in the prison, and he had been brought there for his safety. Now dust still covered the desk and the papwork that was upon in. There were also thick layers of dust covering the filing cabinets that were all over the room., as well as on the few picture that were in there, of the Governor's of the prison, past and present.
"Ah, Harry Potter," said the Governor. He was a short old man with white-grey hair, brown eyes and of the no-nonsense type of person. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go on, floo away."
Harry looked at the fireplace nervously. He knew basically what you had to do to floo, but he wasn't too sure.
"Um, sir? I've never used floo before," Harry muttered, trying to keep his eyes off the Governor. He was pretty successful at it too. The Governor growled. He was not only not the type of person who didn't like nonsense, but also hated children and questions.
"You take floo powder, through it in the fire, step into the fire, say where you're going, in this case the Leaky Cauldron, and it takes you there. No go!"
Harry gulped and stumbled quickly over to the fire place. He really did not like the Governor, and the Governor more than returned the feeling. Plus he was scary to boot.
He grabbed a hand full of the glittering floo powder out of the flower pot beside the fire place. Quickly he threw it in, step in after it and yelled out his destination.
Travelling by floo powder made Harry feel as if he was being sucked down something like a plug hole. He was spinning very fast, the sound of something roaring in his ears being deafening. At first he tried to keep his ears open, but gave up as it made him feel far too dizzy. Finally he felt himself beginning to slow down and he shot out of a fire place somewhere he guessed to be the Leaky Cauldron.
When he stood up, he looked around and noticed people staring at him. He probably stood out quite a bit in his dark grey Azkaban prison robes, but they would have to deal with it. After a moment or two every went back their drinks (Harry suddenly noticed that the Leaky Cauldron was a public house) and Mortigan shot out behind him.
"I hate floo powder," Harry heard Mortigan say as he stood up and brushed himself off. "Well, come along Harry."
Mortigan steered Harry through the hustle and bustle of the small pub and out into a small walled courtyard, where there was nothing but a dustbin and a few weeds.The guard took out his wand, tapped on one particular brick (which Harry made sure to note, knowing it could well have some importance later on in life).
The brick he had tapped quivered - it wriggled - in the middle, a small hole appeard that grew wider and wider until a second later they were facing an archway to a cobbled street which twisted and turned out of sight.
"This is Diagon Alley," said Mortigan as he pushed Harry into the crowds of witches and wizards.
As the teo of them were walking down the street Harry felt as if several more heads would be useful so he could look at everything at once. He may have grown up in the wizarding world, but this was an entirely new exerience for him! He had never left the prison, and rarely the cell he shared with Sirius.
There were so many sights, sounds, smells and feelings to take in. There were so many shops, more people than he had ever seen before in his life, far more sound than Azkaban (except, he supposed grimly, when an inmate was screaming) and so many nicer smells. But what Harry felt amazed at most was the feeling of sun on his face. He could not remember it ever having been so warm. It was... wonderful.
The shops they passed seemed each more special and just as good as the last. They passed book shops, sweet shops, joke shops, apothecary's and many, many others. Finally they reached a snowy-white building which towered above all the other little buildings. 'Gringotts' Harry thought with awe.
Standing in front of the burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniforn of scarlet and gold, was a goblin. It was about the same height as him. The goblin had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry noticed, very long fingers and feets. He bowed as they walked inside. Now there was another set of doors made of silver this time, with word engraved upon them:
Enter, stranger, but take heed,
Of what awaits, the sin of greed,
For those who take but, do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn,
So if you seek beneatrh out floors a treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
Mortigan hurried Harry past the second set of doors and inside the bank into a vast marble hall. About a hundred or more goblins were sitting on high stools, scribbling in ledgers, weighing coins and examining stones. There were far more doors than Harry could count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Harry and Mortigan made for the counters.
"Good morning," Mortigan said stiffly when they found a free goblin. Harry got the idea that Mortigan didn't like goblins. "Mr Harry Potter requires to withdraw some money from his vault."
"Is he here?" the goblin asked gruffly, and Harry wondered if it was some rule in place that said whoever the vault belonged to needed to be present for withdrawals. The goblin peered over the counter and down at Harry. "So he is, does Mr Potter have his key?"
Mortigan swiftly drew a key out of his pocket and handed it to the goblin. The goblin inspected it closely, and then looked up and nodded.
"This seems to be in order. I will have someone take you down to the vaults. Griphook!"
Griphook was another goblin, a younger looking one, and no sooner than he had arrived Harry and Mortigan followed Griphook out of the hall through one of the many doors.
Griphook held the door open for them and the two of them walked out into narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downwards and there were little railway tracked on the floor. Griphook whilsted and a small cart came hurtling upp the track towards them. They climbed in and were off.
The journey made Harry feel vaguely sick, his body not used to moving at high speeds and quick direction changes. Finally the cart slowed to a stop outside a small door in the passage wall. Harry got out, feeling green, and learnt against the wall, knees trembling slightly. Mortigan had not faired much better.
Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and, as it cleared, Harry's eyes widened at the sight of all the piles of metal - money, Harry quickly reminded himself, having never really been in contact with any. In side there were piles of gold, silver and bronze coins. Mortigan helped him pile some of it into a bag, largely gold coins.
"The gold coins are galleons, the silver are sickles and the bronze knuts. Seventeen sickles to a galleon, twenty-nine knuts to a sickle and four hundred and ninety-three knuts to a galleon," grunted the guard. Harry felt that the last bit of information wasn't entirely necessary, but it might come in some use later on in life, you never could tell. "That should be more than enough for your school supplies, the rest'll be kept safe for you. We should get back up now."
Mortigan turned slightly green at the last statement, and Harry could feel himself turning a similar colour.
One horrid cart-ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts, and Harry for the first time in his memoryfelt lighter than air.
"I can't be baby-sittin' ya all day," Mortigan gruffed. "I'll meet you in the Leakey Cauldron in a few hours. Get your supplies and meet me there when you're done."
Harry nodded as he watched the guard walk off. Pulling out his list, he tried to decide what he would get first. Looking around, he saw that the closest place would be a place that sold trunks, something that he would undoutedly need. He went inside, and, after struggling for a few moments with the money, he bought one slightly larger than average that had a few spells on it that would keep it at a weight the owner could carry easily, no matter what was inside.
Next Harry decided to get his uniform.
The closest shop for robes was Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, sp he decided to go there. Madam Malkin was a squarm smiling witch dressed in mauve.
"Hogwarts, dear?" she smiled when Harry started to speak. "Got a lot here - another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."
In the back of the shop a boy with a face almost as pale as Harry's though far pointier was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. 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, which was a lot shorter than it was.
"Hullo," said the boy. "Hogwarts too?"
"Yes," Harry muttered, not really feeling interesting. A half moment of silence passed, and then the boy spoke again.
"I noticed the strange attire you wore when you came in. They looked like Azkaban robes, from he pictures I have seen of them."
"That's because they are."
"Why are you wearing Azkaban robes? Is it a terrible fashion statement or something?"
"No, it's because I live there."
The blond boy blinked in confusion, then recognision came to his features. His eyes flicked to Harry's matted forehead and he probably just managed to make out the scar there.
"Harry Potter?" the boy asked him, eyebrows raised.
"So I'm told," Harry replied, not mustering much energy or enthusiasm. "And you are?"
"Draco Malfoy. I expect we shall see one another at Hogwarts this year."
Most probably."
Harry got the feeling that the boy was about to say something more, but was interrupted.
"That's you all done, my dear," and Harry, wanting to get on with the day, hopped off the stool.
Later on in the day, after Harry had got all his school supplies (plus a few extra books, and had had lunch, something that was only ever given out at Azkaban on Christmas Day) save his wand, Harry wandered along the street down to the wand shop. The previous night Sirius had told Harry to visit it for his wand - they sold the best and most powerful.
A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as Harry stepped inside. It was a tiny place, except for a spindly chair in the corner and the stacks of wand boxes that lined the walls.
"Good afternoon," said a soft voice and Harry about jumped out of his skin. An old man was standing before him, wide, pale eyes shining like moons in the gloom of the dusty shop.
"Hello," Harry said awkwardly.
"Ah yes," said the man, Mr Ollivander. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd being seeing you today Mr Potter. That's where..."
Ollivander touched the scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger.
"I'm sorry to sa Isold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen and a half inches. Yes, powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... Well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do, I..."
Ollivander trailed off, as if lost in the past for a second, but came right back.
"You, Mr Potter, have had a very, very unusual childhood, I believe," Ollivander seemed to have gotten over his trip down memory lane. "In all likeliness you will have a very unusual wand to match it. Now which is your wand hand?"
Half an hour later later Harry left the shop with a new wand, holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple apparently. It was also the brother wand of Voldemort's.
That fact gave Harry the shivers down his spin. But still, it was his wand, he realised on his way back to the Leakey Cauldron. So what, he thought, as he and Mortigan flooed back to Azkaban. You can't choose who you are related to, he thought as he handed over all the things he had bought that day except the books to the Governor to recieve back on September the first. It made absolutely no difference to the wand, Harry finally thought as he slid into his and Sirius's cells and it was locked as he began to tell Sirius about his day. No difference at all.
A/N: Wow, I didn't actually think that this would be as popular as it is. I mean, 9 reviews in one chapter is loads for me. Wow. Oh yeah, I have a couple of questions I wanted to ask.
First off, what house? You have no idea how clueless I am as to which house Harry should go in. If anyone wants to tell me which house they think he should go in (bearing in mind where he was brought up and who by) it would be greatly appreciated.
Second: who should Harry be friends with? Should he be mainly friends with his house, or others? Which individuals as well? I'm just as clueless about that at this minute as I am about his house.
Talons: Thanks!
Lap: Would you say this was soon?
CrazyForYou: The solution's simple enough. Send Harry and Sirius to Hogwarts. The Ministry aren't exactly the brightest sparks in the storm, you see.
Keira: Yay! It's interesting!
Eric2: Okay, I'll continue!
Shadowface: Well, in that case, I hope the story's good.
ciberloco: Glad you liked to twist!
Masha Malfoy: I plan to write more. Lots and lots more.
thehappydementor: I intend to write more chapters! Thanks alot about my writing style! It;s good to know it's good!