As ever, standard disclaimers apply.
Breakfast was, without a doubt, Hogwarts' most subdued meal. To be sure, there was plenty of chattering. But unless there was some event or rumor of great import, there were enough bleary eyed not-a-morning-persons to keep the general noise level down to an almost somnolent rumble rounded out with an occasional yell across the hall. At any rate, it was the one meal that Octavius did not find himself shuddering at the thought of attending. As always, he had completed his morning ablutions without the fuss or fanfare that accompanied his housemates' morning rituals. He greeted every morning the same way, neither bemoaning the hour but equally, not with any anticipation of the day. Although now that he was banned from the early morning exercises assigned by his father he wasn't sure what to do with himself. He stared at his plate with its spattering of toast crumbs and the smear of jam that were the remains of his breakfast. It was too early to go to class. He supposed he could read. But rather than take out any of his texts, he let his attention wander about the room. Mr Potter and Professor Weasley-Potter were at the Head Table, their heads together and laughter coming from their direction.
Blushing for some unknown reason, he looked away; at the other two Slytherins at his table, a pair of Seventh years as equally immersed in each other as the two staff members. This wasn't helping. He looked over at the Gryffindor table and noticed the older girl who had taken his wand yesterday. He blushed harder, again without knowing why.
She may have sensed his attention or perhaps it was a coincidence. She looked away from the friends she'd been conversing with and her eyes found his.
She smiled and her attention returned to her friends.
Coincidence then. It had been a smile not a smirk. He ducked his head, flustered. People didn't smile at him.
Harry and Ginny might have appeared to any one who cared to observe them, as thoroughly unaware of the world around them as any newly wed couple. But that 'any one' would have been surprised to hear that their conversation was light years away from amorous. They were discussing one first year Slytherin and the visit to Diagon Ally that was going to be taking place far sooner than the child in question had inkling. Last night it had been decided that Octavius Lestrange needed to have his wand seen to. Replaced most likely. And then the tool would be handed over to a trusted friend for research into its history.
Just as Octavius finally rose, Harry gulped down the last of his scrambled eggs and pumpkin juice, pecked his wife on the cheek and hurried to catch the young Slytherin before he left for his first class. "Mr Lestrange!" He called out, smiling reassuringly in the hope that the boy would not assume he was in trouble. "Wait a moment, please."
Of course the boy waited; head bowed and uncertainty evident in his slumped posture.
"The Headmistress has decided that it won't do for you to miss out on wand work while we wait for a weekend trip to Ollivander's."
"Sir?" The boy looked up fearfully.
"We're going this morning. Your teachers have been notified that you will be missing classes today and tomorrow."
"All of them, sir?"
Harry shrugged. "One never knows how long these things will take. Besides, there is other school business I can attend to while we are there. Have you been to Diagon Ally before?"
"No sir," Octavius replied shaking his head.
The older wizard smiled even more broadly. "It's grand, you'll see," he promised with a hushed and reverent whisper. "Come now, The Hogwarts Express won't wait for us forever. I'll wait for you by the main doors while you put your class things away. You won't need them today. Just bring your wand and things for an overnight stay."
Once at the station, Harry paid their fare and quickly led the boy aboard the hissing steam engine. The pair found the very first compartment of the train empty and they claimed it as their own. Very soon the train gave an experimental hoot and then with a slight warning lurch rumbled away from the station. He smiled encouragingly when the motion brought a faintly panicked look to the boy's wan face. "Not used to trains then, are you."
"No sir," Octavius shook his head.
"I think it's a pleasant mode of travel. Very relaxing I say. Quite the opposite of flying."
"I don't think I like flying very much sir. I'm not awfully good at it yet."
"Ah. But you are planning to be good at it then?"
"Yes sir. It is part of the curriculum."
"I see." But what he saw only discouraged him. It was not for enjoyment that the boy wanted to fly. The silence lengthened and while the boy did not seem at all fazed by this, (he seemed quite content to stare out the window at the passing scenery), Harry wanted it filled with the sounds of conversation. "So which classes do you like best, Octavius?" He asked (finally deciding that question was likely less frightening than 'what do you like to do?').
"I don't know, sir" the child replied after a moment's hesitation. "I'm sure they are all important, sir," he added quickly.
"Well, I suppose they must be, but that does not preclude one having preferences. You did say that you did not fancy flying."
"But I did not complain about the class, sir. There is nothing wrong with the class, it's just me that's no good."
"Oh no, Octavius. You mustn't think that. One of my best friends is a terrible flyer but he is an excellent wizard all the same. No one is talented in all things."
"I'm not talented in any," the boy sighed.
"I am sure that's not right, Octavius."
"It is, my father already told me. I just want to show that I am not a Squib and then he'll let me ... "
Harry's eyebrows lifted questioningly, "Yes?"
"Continue the bloodline, sir." This was mumbled barely audibly.
"What do you recall of your brothers and sisters then?"
The boy paled and shook his head. "Nothing."
His expression was unconsciously one of sheer terror. Harry immediately backed away from that subject. He waited for the boy to turn away and resume his study of the countryside before he frowned worriedly to himself.
The rest of the morning was spent in silence. Or near silence as after falling asleep, the child made small distressed sounds in between his gentle snores. Harry only woke him after purchasing some refreshment when the Tea Cart and its elderly witch caretaker came to their compartment. He rubbed his back gently and hoping this would not startle him.
Octavius drifted slowly to wakefulness, wafting gently through the stages of confusion, denial, and realization. "Oh." He rubbed his eyes and blinked several times until the smiling wizard with the lightning bolt scared came into clear focus. "I'm sorry, sir."
"For what?" The man sounded both amused and slightly annoyed. "It's completely normal to fall asleep riding on a train with a boring old man," he grinned.
Octavius blushed. "You are neither sir. I meant...erm..."
"Not a word, Octavius. You did nothing that needs any apology. Now, let's have a bite to eat. The house-elves packed us a nice lunch, but I thought something from the Tea Cart would be enough for elevenses." He passed the boy a pumpkin juice and a buttered scone.
The rest of the trip went smoothly if not quietly. Harry himself fell asleep shortly after lunch and was as surprised as his charge when the train finally pulled up and stopped at its London berth. They blinked at each other and while the adult grinned, the child maintained his severe demeanor, clearly to hide his fear of this new situation.
Harry patted his shoulder in what he wanted to be a reassuring manner. "Come. We'll walk to Diagon Ally and you'll get your first view of Muggle London on the way." He nudged the boy's back to get him moving.
The boy's eyes widened with alarm and he shrank away. "Wild Muggles?" his voice was at least an octave higher than normal.
Harry tried very hard not to laugh. It helped to remind himself that in truth this was not very funny, but rather a demonstration of the child's upbringing. "They are not wild, Octavius. They are just like us but with a different sort of magic."
"They don't have magic!"
"Well, not as we know it. They have found a different way to control their environment. You will see. Come along, it's quite safe." He wanted to add that it was certainly safer than what he was used to living with Rodolphus, but wisely refrained.
They made an odd sight, walking down the streets in their slightly odd clothing. They would have seemed odder wearing robes, but Harry had taken those, shrunk them, and stuffed them in his pocket. Harry's clothing, while somewhat outdated, nonetheless was clean, in good condition, and fit well. The same could not be said for Octavius' clothing. While it was clean enough, the school uniform was quite ancient, worn and faded, and did not fit him well. Castoffs without a doubt. But if anyone noticed, they certainly didn't care enough to take a second look, rushing about their business with the singlemindedness that modern life demanded. Harry resisted the temptation to take the boy's hand while Octavius resisted the temptation to run into the nearest ally and hide.
"They don't seem wild, sir." Octavius noted at last. It had been a few minutes since he'd stopped looking so frightened. He'd initially wrapped his arms about his torso and walked hunched over. Gradually he'd straightened up enough to observe his surroundings and his hands had at last been shoved in his trouser pockets. "But they do seem mad. Why do so many of them talk to themselves?"
Harry laughed. "They aren't. See that thing in that man's ear?" He nodded at a well dressed Muggle who'd come to a halt at the corner ahead of them to wait to cross the street. "That's part of his cell phone. They use those instead of fire-calling." Or hand mirrors but he didn't mention that.
"That's terrible!"
"What? Why?"
"They are never alone!"
"Oh they aren't talking to each other all the time. They can shut down the phones just as we shut down a fire-call."
"They are all in a rush."
"Yes. Mostly."
"They look funny."
"We look funny to them."
The boy said nothing more but looked everywhere with quiet intensity. Harry silently watched him study the crowds and streets and noise that was Central London on a weekday.
At last they came to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry got them a room where they left their overnight things and changed back into robes. There was nothing for it now. Octavius was about to be introduced to wizarding London.
Which turned out to be a mix of both the familiar and the alien. There were so many people! And so much noise, at least as loud as the Muggles, but it was a different kind of noise.
"Ollivander's first, Octavius," Harry reminded him as he stopped to stare at a shop full of owls. He took the boy's shoulder and urged him forward, releasing him just as the boy flinched at the touch. He pretended nothing untoward had happened. Perhaps if he didn't remind the boy, he'd learn to relax. He doubted it, though. "This way," he nudged with verbal rather than physical cues, until they stood before the quint, dark shop that displayed a single wand on a purple pillow in its show window.
"It looks closed." Octavius stated hopefully.
Harry smiled and shook his head. Then reached forward and opened the door. Harry had been here several times since the purchase of his own first wand, most recently earlier in the summer when the whole family had gone to kit up everyone including the youngest Weasley-Potter, Sirius John.
Mr Ollivander himself emerged from the dark recesses of the shop's back rooms only a moment later. "Good afternoon, Mr Potter." He glanced down at the too small eleven year old beside the hero of the wizarding world. "This would be Mr Lestrange, then. Good afternoon, lad."
"Good afternoon, sir."
"I recall your father's first wand..." But he trailed off suddenly when he saw the wand in the boy's hand. "Dear me, that would be it." He reached out a spindly hand for it. "I am certain that is not the wand for you, young man."
Octavius frowned. "Father said it was fine."
Ollivander looked down his nose at the boy. "And is your father a wand maker?"
The boy blushed and looked down at his feet before shaking his head. "No sir."
The old man made a harumphing sound. "No indeed. Just too cheap to get you a wand of your own." The family was not known to be poor. Indeed, Rodolphus was known to spend many galleons for whatever whim struck him.
"Well, sir, he hasn't decided that I deserve one yet." Octavius defended his parent with quiet matter-of-factness.
Ollivander snorted his disdain of that idea and set about investigating the wand. His stern expression soon deepened into something not unlike anger. At last he looked up and shot a glare directly into Harry's eyes. "This is most certainly not the wand for this or any child." He gave the pair a forbidding look.
"Is it broken, sir?" Octavius asked before Harry could say anything.
"No, not broken. But it is not the wand for you." He gave Harry another, significant look that made the younger wizard almost blanch. "We will find something more suitable."
Harry nodded, looking relieved. But Octavius only looked frightened.
Two hours later, however, he was looking excited. They'd found a wand which apparently liked him. A lot, if the showers of silver and neon sparkles were any indication! it was a lightweight ebony with unicorn tail of twelve and three-quarter inches. It was smooth and soft and fit his small hand with an uncommon elegance. He stood at the door turning it about in the stray beams of sunlight that filtered in while Mr Potter paid for the magical wonder.
"Mr Potter," Ollivander hissed in a low whisper. "Hold onto this wand and inform Minerva McGonagall that I will be by this Sunday to give it a good looking over. It seems her and your concerns about it are not unfounded."
Harry nodded and packed the offensive object away before moving to the door to herd his charge outside.
"Thank you, sir!" The boy's voice rang with genuine happiness for once.
"Well, the afternoon is almost gone, but I think we've enough time to get you a few more things that you really should have."
"What else do I need, sir?"
"Well, you could do with some more recent textbooks. There have been new editions that make the ones your father sent with you quite obsolete. In fact, your potions book is even older than the one I used in my first year! And your Transfiguration book has to be even older."
"Father said that if I couldn't figure out for myself what was going on the books were not going to help me anyway."
Harry snorted. "Your father has not kept up with the educational requirements of the modern age." That was being kind.
"Well... He is rather old."
"Let's see about getting you some up to date books then, shall we? You should at least be using the texts everyone else is."
Octavius nodded and they went to buy textbooks. Harry bought a novel for Ginny (a mystery at sea that was part of a series she was fond of) and another for himself (Muggle science fiction)while they were at the booksellers. Then they went back to the Leaky Cauldron, had supper and retired for the evening, he to read, Octavius to sleep and dream about his new wand.