Disclaimer: The characters and settings relating to Harry Potter are the property of J.K. Rowling. I own nothing.

This is the second book of the Druid's Apprentice series. If you haven't read book one, 'Druid's Apprentice, please do so now or you might be a bit lost.

Druid's Apprentice: The Philosopher's Stone.

Chapter 2

The weeks following the arrival of Damon's Hogwarts letter were the busiest he could remember. The young druid's training schedule was intensified so that it took up nearly every waking moment. It wasn't his druidical studies that consumed his time, he'd learned everything that could be taught and only time and experience would increase his power. His study of the ancient magic, physical combat and politics under Merrill's supervision that was pushing him to his limit.

A bright spot in the grueling schedule, however came from the antics next door as Vernon reacted to Harry's increasingly numerous school letters. By the end of the first week, however, Damon himself was beginning to wonder if the person or elf in charge of the notices wasn't a bit off their nut. The Dursley's front lawn was covered in owls and letters were flying into the house through every conceivable opening. It wasn't more than an hour or so after the latest batch of them had arrived that particular morning when the entire family, Harry included, packed themselves into the car with whatever they could carry, Harry carrying Dudley's things, and drove away as quickly as Vernon dared without drawing any more attention to their situation.

A bit concerned, the boy looked to his grandfather who shook his head. "The boy will be fine," said Merrill. "You'll see him when we go to Diagon Alley next week. Now lets go get started with today's lessons."

Finally July 31st arrived. Damon and his grandfather sat together on the train to muggle London, on their way to get his school supplies. He idly watched the countryside as it whipped past, while Merrill sat reading the morning paper. Arriving at the station, Damon stood up, making a show of using his cane for support. Part of the web of lies they'd surrounded him with was that Damon forester was lame from the same car crash that had killed his parents. To that end he now carried and used cane that secretly carried magic unheard of by most modern wizards.

They walked the streets of London, passing the fountain where he'd first met Draco. Seeing it reminded the raven-haired youth of their first meeting and he couldn't help but think of how much his friend had changed in only one year. The blond had already come so far from the spoiled brat they'd encountered that day. He was more sure of himself now and though he still believed that purebloods were better than muggles, Draco was willing to grudgingly admit that his father's views on them were a bit extreme. They continued on another block or two until they came to a shabby pub sitting on a corner by a record shop. A ratty old sign hung over the establishment proclaimed it the Leaky Cauldron.

Entering the establishment and realizing that they were a half-hour early for their meeting with Draco and his parents, they went to a boot to wait. Damon Loved the Cauldron. It was just so warm and cozy that he always felt at home whenever they came here. He'd just gotten a couple of butterbeers from Tom when the front door opened and a giant of a man entered, leading a small, messy haired boy who seemed incredibly shy. Harry and Hagrid had arrived.

Damon watched as the half-giant and his brother entered the inn and went up to the barkeep. The other patrons hand also noted Hagrid's entry with interest as he was well known here. Things had pretty much gone back to normal when Tom suddenly called out in a startled voice,

"Well bless my soul. It's Harry Potter."

This announcement caused the inn to go absolutely silent as everyone began realize what had been said. Moments later the room broke out in whispers and a flurry of people came over and reverently offered their hands to the young boy. Unexpectedly, Damon's forehead where his scar should have been began to prickle as if somebody were tracing it with a needle. Cursing himself for his own lack of observation, he scanned the crowd till he spotted a turbaned man sitting at the bar, Quirrell.

Watching the DADA instructor got up in turn to speak with his brother and Hagrid, Damon found it difficult not to get up and put himself between them. He was moments away from doing just that when, with another nod to the professor, Hagrid led Harry out the back door to Diagon Alley. Turning back to their table, he winced as he saw the serious expression on his grandfather's face.

"You realize, of course, that you'll have to be a bit less obvious about your concern for Harry when you get to Hogwarts. Hide your emotions or you'll give everything away."

"I know but . . . "

"But you worry about your brother," Merrill finished for him. "I do as well but you have to give him some credit as well. He's a smart lad and more than capable of taking care of himself."

Damon nodded, he knew that his grandfather was right. Not only was Harry already a capable wizard in his own right, but when he was sorted into Gryffindor he'd have Ron Weasley beside him.

It was another twenty minutes before Lucius, along with his wife and son arrived at the Cauldron. The elder Malfoy came in flanked by two other wizards discussing something going on at the Ministry of Magic. Draco and his mother came in after, the Lady Malfoy was regarding her husband with an absolutely predatory glare while Draco scanned the crowd eagerly with his eyes. Spotting Damon and his grandfather, he touched his mother's arm lightly and nodded in their direction, letting her know where he was going, then came bounding over to the booth.

After an excited greeting between the two boys, They and Merrill sat and talked of nothing in particular until the blond's parents were able to come over and join them.

"Well then," the old druid asked as they waited. "Anything new going on at home Draco?"

Shaking his head, the youngest Malfoy answered, "Not really. Well father is going on about how I should be keeping an eye out for Harry . . . er . . . Potter."

Grinning, Merrill replied, "I expected as much. He hasn't said anything that would make you think he knows about the other person of note attending school this year?"

To his credit, Draco flinched only a little at the implied mention of the dark lord. It didn't matter he was sitting across from the most powerful wizard to live in the last two thousand years, a lifetime living in fear of even the thought of Voldemort was hard to overcome. "Father hasn't said anything one way or another, " he replied. "But I wouldn't expect him to even if he did know something."

Draco's parents, finishing their conversation, came over and joined their son at Merrill's booth. "Good day Merrill," the elder Malfoy said in a silky voice. "I hope you're well. You remember my wife Narcissa, of course."

Lucius' wife, an incredibly beautiful but cold looking woman quirked an eyebrow at her husband's overly formal introduction. The two families had dined together not less than four times over the summer and attended countless parties. Introductions were no more necessary between them than they would be between her and Draco.

Merrill, ever the suave devil, rose and took Narcissa's hand in his and purred, "My lady, always a pleasure."

Damon rolled his eyes at Draco as they watched his grandfather working the purebloods. One of the first things that the old druid had taught him was that even before magic there was power to be had through persuasion.

From the age of five, Damon had been trained by his grandfather and several nefarious individuals of the old man's acquaintance. He had learned from con men, politicians, and even muggle stage magicians the techniques that would allow him to manipulate and influence people. He'd become proficient, even inspired in his mind games. Just now he was playing at being an eleven-year-old boy who was anxious to go on an adventure with his best friend.

"Grandfather," the boy moaned as he hopped from one foot to the other in feigned impatience. "You said we would be going to Diagon Alley now!"

Grinning at his grandson's masterful act, Merrill turned to Lucius with amusement in his eyes. "Perhaps the boys should go ahead and explore while we adults talk."

The elder Malfoy's brows knit slightly with concern. He remembered all too well the first time Damon and Draco had gone alone into Diagon Alley and cringed at the thought of what trouble they might get into if given the chance. Still, he needed more time with the Forester Patriarch to feel him out and the Leaky Cauldron was as good a place as any.

"Fine then," said Lucius. "But we expect you both to be on your best behavior and meet us at Flourish & Blotts in an hour."

Lucius found himself suddenly talking to thin air as the two boys, having received their permission, darted off toward the back door as they yelled out simultaneous thank-you's. Closing the door connecting the small courtyard to the pub, Damon stepped up to the wall and with a few deft taps on the stones with his fingers, the wall rearranged itself into an archway leading into Diagon Alley.

Damon grinned to himself as he watched the crowds doing their shopping. He loved this place. It wasn't so wild as the Bazar at Baghdad or large as the wizard's mall at Salem but this was home.

The two boys went directly to Quality Quidditch supplies, where they spent half an hour ogling the new brooms. While their boards were faster and more responsive than the racing brooms, you couldn't use them to play Quidditch. Reluctantly leaving the shop behind, they wandered over to Eyelop's Owl Emporium.

Draco's father was allowing him a new pet as they would need a courier for letters and packages from home when he got to Hogwarts. The blond had already settled on a majestic black eagle owl who, according to the proprietor had a habit of nipping the fingers of people it didn't like, which appeared to be everyone except Draco and Damon. The bird had even bowed his regal head after Damon had quietly introduced them and allowed his new master to scratch the feathers atop his head.

Damon only smiled as Draco was showing off his new pet whom he'd already named Caesar. The young druid wasn't interested in an owl of his own. He and his grandfather had several more direct ways of communicating that made an owl seem pointless. They were just getting ready to leave when Damon spotted an old miniature barn owl sitting on a ratty old post in the corner.

It was obvious that the bird had seen better days. There were some bare patches here and there where its feathers had fallen out and the animal seemed severely underfed. Scandalized to see an owl so mistreated in the shop, Damon turned angrily to the proprietor demanding to know how the animal had come to such a state. As it turned out, the owl had been abandoned just the day before on the doorstep.

Pity combined with an instinctive need to help the unfortunate owl overwhelmed Damon and before he knew it the bird was riding unsteadily on his shoulder as they left the shop. Draco, unable to help himself, teased the young druid unmercifully about his new pet, wondering aloud if the thing were truly alive or simply stuffed and mounted. Unseen by the two boys as they went about their business, the old owl's eyes flashed blue and its beak stretched impossibly into a mischievous toothy grin.

Damon and Draco met up with their guardians shortly after at the bookshop as planned. Narcissa had gone off to look at wands and Lucius ordered Draco to run to Madam Malkin's to be fitted for his robes while he procured the boy's books.

"But father," the boy whined. "I'm supposed to pick my wand, it won't work properly if she gets the wrong one."

"Your mother is only picking the most likely wands for you," his father assured him. "You will have the final choice when you get to the shop a bit later. Now off to madam Malkin's."

As Lucius was going about reassuring his son, Merrill took Damon by the unoccupied shoulder and led him from the shop.

"Where are we going?" the boy asked.

"To Ollivander's of course," replied Merrill as he studied Damon's new owl curiously. "You'll have everything else already. Interesting choice of pets, have you named him yet?"

Attempting to wrestle the bird do a more comfortable spot, Damon answered, "I didn't have to. I found this tag around his leg." Holding it so Merrill could read, he said aloud, "Niffar. Odd name don't you think? Arabic maybe? Anyway why go to all the trouble of getting a wand? I don't need it to cast spells. None of us do."

"I realize that my boy," murmured Merrill quietly. "But I don't want anybody that checks such things wondering why you've been casting spells with a stick." Blushing, Damon acknowledged his grandfather's wisdom and followed him to a dusty old shop nearby. "Besides," said the old man as he put his hand on the door. "Narcissa has been in there for quite some time, I think we should be going about rescuing Ollivander."

Stepping into the dimly lit small shop, they found the Lady Malfoy wrapping up her business with the proprietor. A gaunt old man with a fringe of sparse white hair about his head and eyes black as pitch. Damon was idly looking about the shop, waiting their turn when a clatter at the counter drew his attention back in that direction.

The proprietor, Mr. Ollivander he guessed, had more than just taken notice of his new customers. He was in fact standing slack-jawed in amazement with several wands half out of their boxes strewn at his feet.

There was a barely perceptible nod in Narcissa's direction from Merrill, Damon only barely noticed it but it brought Ollivander around and the wandmaker came back to himself as he turned and began to beg forgiveness of the blond woman.

"Oh my," said the shopkeeper as he scrambled to pick up the wands. "My apologies' Lady Malfoy. I'll have all of these wands ready for master draco to try when he arrives."

"Yes," she replied airily. "The wand he picks had best not been damaged by your clumsiness." Without another word, Narcissa swept out of the shop, leaving Merrill and Damon alone with the wand maker.

Ollivander, after casting impervius and Silencing spells on the door, turned and knelt on one knee before the ancient druid. "My lord Merlin," he half croaked with strangled emotion. "It's been so long."

"Rise Sir Kay," replied Merrill as he helped the old man to his feet. "We're both far too old to be bound by such formality." Turning the other man so that he could see Damon clearly, he continued, "I would like you to meet my grandson."

Suddenly feeling unaccountably self conscious, Damon squirmed as the shopkeeper spent several moments staring at him. He found himself gob-smacked when Ollivander/Kay finally spoke.

"Good day Mr. Potter," he said.

"How did you? ...."

"I know the old magic too, my boy. It is a useful tool for a wandmaker to be able to know as much as he can about the wizard that comes looking. In truth I'd been expecting you about now but I thought you'd look more like your parents."

"We've changed his appearance and he's going by the name Damon Forester for now," explained Merrill. "Later on you'll meed another boy who bears the guise of Harry Potter, I would ask you to treat him as if he was."

Nodding in assent, Ollivander murmured, "Of course Lord Merlin, whatever you ask."

Smiling fondly at the old man, Merrill pulled out a short list of names. "These boys, along with Damon, will need nonfunctional copies made of their wands ready before school starts. Ron Weasley may be a bit of a difficulty as he will likely be using one of his family's wands when he goes."

"Not to worry," assured Ollivander. "I will floo his mother tomorrow and have her bring the boy and his wand around to make sure it will work for him. I'll copy it then."

Rather than picking a wand for Damon, Ollivander had the boy walk among the shelves looking for a wand that resonated along with his magic. In a back corner he came across two wands that sent tingles up his arms as he held them. One was Holly with a phoenix feather core, it was close and he knew he could use it with no problem but it wasn't a perfect match. The other was ash with a unicorn hair core. Instinctively Damon picked the second wand, somehow he knew that the first was meant for his twin.

Taking his new wand back to the front of the shop, Damon found the two old men chatting amiably. While fascinated by the memories of Camelot that the two were sharing, he was eager to get back to Draco and see how his shopping went. They paid Ollivander and with a final farewell left the shop only moments before Harry, sent ahead by an excited Hagrid, entered the shop alone.

Their last stop was Tolliver's Trunks. A seedy little shop just inside knockturn Alley. Stepping inside, Damon called out a careless greeting to Thad Upshike, Tolliver's apprentice. Damon was quite familiar with Tolliver's, he'd spent quite a bit of time here learning the art of lock picking, both muggle and magical. Mr. Tolliver was a bit of a curmudgeon, but Thad . . . he was every bit as mischievous as Damon.

"G'day Damon, Mr. Forester," the young man said as he came out of the back. "You've come for the young master's trunk then?"

At Merrill's nod, Thad led them back into the workshop and to a trunk easily larger than a wardrobe.

"You've got to be kidding," sputtered Damon as he circled the massive container. "This thing is huge. I'll be laughed out of the school."

With a smug grin, Thad touched a small metal inlay styled like a serpent. The trunk shrank first to the size of an average steamer trunk and then with another touch became the size of a pack of playing cards. Picking up the miniaturized trunk up, Thad tapped it with his wand and handed it to Damon. The boy gasped and nearly dropped the item when he felt an electric tingle run up his arm.

"Don't worry about it," Explained Tolliver's apprentice. "The trunk was just keying itself to you. Now you'll be the only one who can set the passwords for sizing and opening it."

Paying for the trunk, Merrill and his grandson left Knockturn Alley and headed back towards the Leaky Cauldron in search of Draco and his family.

"Well," said Merrill as they strolled along, "Just another month and you'll be off to Hogwarts."

Caught up in his own thoughts about that very subject, Damon barely nodded. The old druid led his grandson into Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlour, and to a booth in the back.

"You know your birthday is supposed to be tomorrow," Merrill began after the waitress had left them with two huge sundaes'. "Of course we know better." The old druid pulled a cloth-wrapped bundle from inside his cloak and slid it across the table to his grandson.

"Happy Birthday my boy."

Grinning happily, Damon picked up the package and hefted it experimentally. He cast a suspicious glance at his grandfather and asked, "It's not socks again, is it?"

Merrill barked out a short laugh and shook his head with amusement. "No lad, this is something I've had since I was your age and it's served me well. Now I am giving it to you."

Curiosity finally overwhelming him, Damon opened the bundle to find a plainly ornamented dagger. From the size of its sheath, the blade could barely be as long as the hilt.

"Er . . . grandfather . . . it's-"

"Take it out," said the old druid with a smile.

Taking the handle in his grasp, Damon pulled it out and out until the entire blade was exposed. From a five-inch sheath had come a thin, delicate blade nearly eighteen inches in length.

"It's brilliant!"said the boy in an excited whisper.

"You boys will be on your own when you get to Hogwarts" said Merrill a bit more seriously. " I want you to have whatever it takes to remain safe while you're there."

Strapping the Dagger onto his forearm where it immediately vanished, Damon grinned as he leaned back into his chair and answered. "Really grandfather, Two of the most insane and power-hungry wizards alive together in the same school, surrounded by hundreds of innocent students that either would manipulate or sacrifice for their own ends . . . " Looking up at his grandfather with a grim smile he continued, "How could there possibly be any trouble?"

ok guys, here's chapter 2, more to come as I already have part of chapter three written as well but I'm hoping to finish Blind faith before putting out another chapter.

Japanese-jew, you've noticed I didn't give up on Blind Faith, I just got a wild hair to write on this fic, it helps when I get a bit of writers block.

Asphodel Alghieri (whew!!! where do you guys come up with these names?) Here is chapter 2 . Sorting should be ch3.. Or 4 depending how long the train ride is. (Hint: ch3 title may be Damon smells a rat.)

Treck I cant help it, I shake Christmas presents under the tree as well.

Dimensional Analysis thanks