Harry slumped down onto the futon next to Hitomi, locking eyes with her. She leaned over and planted a soft kiss on his lips with the last of her energy. She collapsed into a blissful slumber, a reflection of pure ecstasy upon her angelic face. He pulled her close, wrapping his and wings around the both of them as he followed her into sleep.
Chapter Seven: Return to Diagon Alley – An Indecent Proposal
Harry awoke upon his futon in Kenzo's abode, for what would be his last morning in the village. He intended to leave shortly after breakfast, having made extensive plans for his day. Still, he didn't much feel like moving at that exact moment, as he reveled in the sensation of having a warm body pressed against him. The naked Hitomi felt almost like a natural extension of Harry's own body, especially after they had made love the previous night, though Harry was still reluctant to describe it as such. So beautiful, he thought. A worthy first conquest. He gently threaded his hand through her inky raven hair as his nostrils took in the scent of the room around him. A mixture of drying blood, sweat, a small hint of sake, and the overpowering aroma of female arousal hung in the air, a most delightful combination, Harry thought. Hitomi began to stir within the protective blanket of Harry's wings, soft brown eyes snapping languidly to attention. She looked up at Harry, who continued to unconsciously stroke her hair, and pawed at him gently.
"Harry, you were so wonderful..."
Harry looked over at her, a slightly victorious smirk adorning his face.
"Yes, I imagine so. You weren't so bad yourself, though."
"Care for one last bath, Harry?"
Looking at her as if she had just asked the most ridiculous question in the world, Harry rose, bringing her up with him within the fold of his wings. He reached for the vial of invisibility solution, intending to test it out upon leaving the bath, and grasped his increasingly incompatible wand in the other. Harry used his wings to carry the kunoichi from the room, and lazily aimed his wand at the futon.
"...Scourgify."
The cleaning charm effectively removed the evidence of the previous night's activities from the hapless futon, but the overpowering odor in the room lingered. For all of Harry's magical study over the course of the past month, basic household charms were left completely out of the curriculum. With a quick glance into Hitomi's amused eyes, he carried her into the bathing room for their final trip as a pair into the wooden tub with the scented water.
Harry and Hitomi reclined in the bath, closing their eyes as the medicated water worked its magic. She held onto him gently, and not a word was exchanged between the pair. None were needed. Once fully healed from the previous night's barbaric sexual exploits and fully cleaned of the olfactory evidence, Harry strode over to the mirror and opened up the vial. He poured a sufficient volume of the stuff at the base of his wings and rubbed it into the dakaathi appendages with a towel, making sure not to allow any to touch his hands or the skin on his back. Harry watched curiously as his wings began to disappear, leaving only a small pair of slits on his upper back where they protruded from his flesh.
Harry asked Hitomi, who watched the scene with growing interest, to take his wand and perform a drying charm on his back, so that the solution wouldn't seep from his wings into his clothing or skin. She complied happily, and Harry wrapped his now invisible wings against his naked upper body. Underneath a robe, nobody would ever be able to tell that they existed, or at least Harry hoped. Reaching into the familiar drawer, Harry found a black formal robe much like the one he had worn into the village, except in much better condition. Once dressed in standard wizard garb for the first time in nearly a month, Harry leaned into Hitomi, who kissed him softly, and the pair started down to breakfast. During the walk, Harry noted with satisfaction that his black dress shoes made no noise against the wooden floor.
Downstairs, they found the table set with a veritable feast. Fresh fruit and fish of all kinds, heaping bowls of miso soup and a large container of hot tea. Kenzo, already seated, spoke as they sat down.
"Most of the villagers assumed that neither one of you would be much up for cooking this morning, judging from the loud noises coming from the house as we all returned home from the gathering. They were kind enough to supply us with this small banquet."
Neither Harry nor Hitomi elected to respond to that particular statement, only replying to the old Shinn Kohaku leader through a pair of simultaneous nods, which he returned with a smile. Breakfast passed quickly enough, with Hitomi shooting wistful glances at Harry every few minutes. Once the meal was over, Harry went back upstairs and wrapped up his books and the presents from the village, and went to take his leave of Kenzo.
"Well, it's been great, Kenzo. I hope I'll be hearing good news soon."
"We will do our best, young lord. When this is all over, let us gather here once more."
"Sounds like a plan. We'll have to think of a new name for this place, though. Eternal Victory Village works for me."
Kenzo smiled and nodded.
"Indeed. Take care, young lord."
With that, Kenzo returned to his sitting room. Harry, his carrying bag slung over his shoulder, resumed his departure from the house, only to find Hitomi waiting for him at the front gate. She looked deep into his forest green eyes, a hint of sadness in her brown ones.
"So, this is it, I guess. You're really leaving, Harry?"
Harry nodded, taking a brief moment to think of a reply.
"Yes, there's only a month or so left before the start of term, and I still have a lot of business that has to be attended to before I go back to school. Don't be sad, Hitomi. It doesn't suit you. We'll see each other again."
A smile graced her angelic features.
"Of course we will. Just don't be too surprised when I climb in through your dormitory window some lonely winter night, Harry."
"In that case, I'll be sure to leave it unlocked. Take care of yourself, Hitomi."
"You too, Harry..."
She leaned in closer to his ear and whispered while slipping a small bag into Harry's hands.
"Don't go letting some dark wizard get the better of you, now. The only way you're allowed to die involves me fucking you to death. Here, think of me every time you drink a cup."
And, with one last, passionate kiss, Harry's first real relationship came to an end, at least for the time being. Hitomi headed back into her grandfather's abode, turning back for just a second to wink at Harry. He looked at the bag in his hands, half guessing its contents. Raspberry flavored tea. Shaking his head with amusement, Harry whistled sharply, causing Grindelwald and Khariana to come bounding up, and the three started down the dark forest path. Along the way, various Shinn Kohaku villagers waved him goodbye, but upon reaching the village exit, an unseen force halted Harry in his tracks, and a familiar, but decidedly unwelcome voice sounded in his head.
"Leaving so soon, my fallen angel? You didn't even say goodbye. I'm hurt."
Zharrghast. So he could enter Harry's consciousness even from a distance. The young part-dakaath had the distinct feeling that this wasn't a social call. He hadn't heard so much as a peep from the sentient brand during his entire stay in the village, after all.
"What is it, Zharrghast? I really have no time for this."
"Hehehehe...you mortals are so very impatient. You have grown much stronger during your short month in this place, my fallen angel. You have learned even to manipulate the chaos. I see much bloodshed in your near future, and I have reconsidered my earlier decision. This place bores me, especially now that the villagers will soon be leaving as well. I shall accompany you."
That was not what Harry wanted to hear, and he tried to fight against Zharrghast's hold on his body. It was impossible, though. The fallen god's power was simply too great. The sentient brand levitated from the dais over to Harry's location. His robes opened at the front, moved by the same unseen force that held Harry in position. The blade pressed against Harry's upper body, hilt at the left of his sternum, blade pointing directly downwards. His body burned hotter than magma as Zharrghast phased into him.
After the blade his disappeared into Harry's body, the pain suddenly stopped, and the force keeping him in place dissipated. He glanced down to see his two tiger guardians whimpering, and the villagers looking at him in shock. Petting Grindelwald and Khariana, Harry assured the villagers that he was fine, and asked a pair of them to inform Kenzo of what they had seen after he had left.
"Hehehehe...shall we go, my fallen angel?"
Harry didn't dare to respond, as he looked down where the blade had been. He now had a transparent tattoo covering a large portion of the left side of his upper body, a miniature reflection of the sentient brand. The upper portion of the hilt rested just above his sternum, and the tip of the blade was parallel to his navel. He might have even liked it, under different circumstances. He cleared his head as he restarted on his journey to Gringotts, praying that Zharrghast would stay out of his mind and make no attempts to manipulate or control him. Harry refastened his robe as he walked, the tigers following, and found Bill waiting for him at the passageway entrance.
"Morning, Harry. Have a bit of trouble getting out of bed this morning?"
Harry raised an eyebrow. He decided immediately to keep the majority of the new developments with Zharrghast a secret. All talking about them would do is cause his allies to worry, since there was really nothing any of them could do to remedy the situation.
"And just what is that supposed to mean?"
"Merlin, if that poor girl had been screaming any louder, I think she might have cracked Dumbledore's specs all the way up at Hogwarts. Nice work, by the way, an older girl for your first time. I can just imagine the look on Ron's face when he finds out."
"If she makes good on her promises, he'll get to watch the next time. So, are you my official chaperone for the day?"
Bill pouted in mock indignation.
"Why, Harry, you almost sound as if you don't want my company. But no, the President just asked me to meet up with you at the forest entrance and escort you back to the lobby. I have to get back to work here in a few minutes. I take it you're planning on going shopping?"
"That's the idea. What's the Order situation up in the Alley?"
Bill shook his head.
"They're crawling around like ants up there. Dumbledore's had most of the Order searching for you ever since he learned of your leaving Privet Drive. Your new look will keep them from noticing you for a while, but don't count on it fooling them for long."
"Well, I'm hoping I can do most of my shopping outside of the main alley. I know I'm going to have to step into Madame Malkin's, but I don't particularly want to go to Ollivander's for my new wand. I'd rather have one crafted from scratch, one built just for me."
Bill nodded.
"That's a good idea. There's a good wand maker in Knockturn Alley. His shop's a bit out of the way, though, and I'm sure you know the types that skulk around back there. Just be careful and keep your scar hidden. You look pureblooded enough with your long hair. Mum's gonna freak when she sees you, by the way. Here, tie your hair back. It's how most of the men from the old families wear theirs, and you'll need to fit in. I'll draw you a map."
Bill took off the band holding his hair in place and gave it to Harry, who fitted his own hair into a long ponytail. Meanwhile, Bill took a piece of parchment and a quill out of the pocket of his robes and scribbled down directions to this wand maker's shop. Harry looked over at him.
"How do you know about illegal wand makers, Bill?"
"I was on patrol with Mundungus once, and he dragged me over to the place. He had some shady business or the other with this guy, and needed another wand on his side in case things got nasty. I took a look around, the guy does great work, and uses powerful magical focuses and base materials that Ollivander doesn't deal in for fear that he'd lose his contract with Hogwarts. He can even carve your wand into a custom design. It's a mostly aesthetic touch, but it can enhance the performance in some cases. I wanted to have a second wand done there myself, but his work's really expensive, and I don't think the Order would take kindly to my doing business in Knockturn Alley."
"What's his name?"
"I'm not sure. I didn't even get a good look at him. He ushered 'Dung into the back of the shop and left me in the lobby. You'll just have to deal with him when you get there."
Harry took the directions from Bill and started back to the Gringotts main lobby. They continued to talk as they walked.
"Well, I was considering a trip to Flourish and Blotts, but I don't think I'm going to go, given the Order presence in the main alley. It's not like they can force me to go to Grimmauld or back to Privet Drive, given my adult status, but it's just too much of a hassle."
"What did you want to get?"
"Mostly a book on old pureblooded by-laws and such. It'd be handy to know that stuff the next time I have a spat with the Ministry or Dumbledore. I was also thinking of maybe picking up a book of auror spells, just in case I ever have to fight in front of a bunch of witnesses. I daresay that getting chucked into Azkaban for using Dark Arts would hamper my plans a bit."
Bill chuckled softly.
"I doubt Azkaban could even hold you, Harry. Anyway, if I might venture a suggestion?"
"Go ahead."
"Maybe you should have some armor forged for yourself. Mostly a breastplate to go under your robes, and a pair of gauntlets. Maybe some leg armor also, but I noticed that you had some issues with taking spells during our dueling practices. You seemed a lot worse off after taking basic spells than you should have been, and I'm not all that powerful magically, at least compared to a Dumbledore."
Harry winced inwardly. He'd been hoping that Bill wouldn't have picked up on that. He had soaked in the medicated water at Kenzo's abode on much more than one occasion after suffering severe bruising from one of Bill's stunners, and even serious internal bleeding once when Harry had been caught with a reflected bludgeoning hex of his own. He figured that the chaotic energy in his blood was the cause, as it rendered him weaker against ordered magic. Still, the armor was a good idea. Maybe he would have a use for that arkanite, after all.
"Do you know of any decent armor smiths, then?"
"Yeah, Ts'ao Chang, in Liangshan Alley. He's probably the best magical blacksmith this side of Germany. Gringotts has sent me over to his forge on several occasions with requests. He does a lot of the larger projects for the goblin clans."
At this point, they arrived at the main lobby. Harry was so absorbed in his conversation with Bill that he didn't notice Grilthauk coming over to greet him.
"Liangshan Alley? I've never heard of it."
Grilthauk made his presence known by interjecting himself into the conversation.
"I doubt you would have, Harry. Liangshan Alley is the hub of the magical Chinese population of Britain. Many of the older, more traditional families live there. They have a very strict isolationist policy, and most of them prefer not to associate with other aspects of wizarding society on any personal level, aside from occasionally sending their children to Hogwarts for schooling. I assume that you have reason to have some work done by Master Ts'ao Chang?"
Harry turned to the old goblin and regarded him with a cautious expression.
"Why do you assume that?"
"There is no other reason for you to require a visit to Liangshan Alley. Any other need could be fulfilled just as easily elsewhere. The main entrance to the alley is along the left wall of this building, but it is sealed to all except those who live there and those who who have special permission to enter. Gringotts has a contract with Master Chang, and thus any person with an official missive from myself can enter, but it has to be stamped with the special seal given to the bank by the alley's elected prefect. I can prepare such a missive for you, but it will take some time. I would suggest finishing your business in the other alleys for now, and returning here later for your passport into Liangshan Alley. Here, I have prepared your shopping expenses for the day. This bag is magically lightened and enlarged, and holds a sum of twenty thousand galleons. I doubt that you could possibly spend that much."
Harry nodded and took the bag, fastening it to his waist.
"I'd appreciate that, Grilthauk. Bill, thanks for the advice. I think I'll go pay a visit to that wand maker, and then go to the clothier. I'll be back by in a few hours."
Bill smiled back at him.
"Watch yourself in Knockturn Alley, Harry. Not that I think anybody will dare to mess with you, especially with those two huge cats flanking you."
Harry left with a nonchalant wave, Grindelwald and Khariana following quickly behind. He stalked right past Hestia Jones, the Order member posted at the bank entrance, without drawing any particular attention. The older woman's eyes lingered appreciatively on the young dakaathi hybrid for a moment, but Harry knew that it had nothing at all to do with his identity. Bah, she was old enough to be his mother and not particularly attractive besides. Keep dreaming, sweetheart, Harry mentally sneered.
He reached the entrance to Knockturn Alley quickly enough, and walked in after a split second of hesitation. The place was as filthy and decadent as Harry had remembered from before his second year. Dirty hags shuffled about here and there, selling the most disgusting of items on the pathway. A gaudily dressed woman, noticing the attractive Harry, as well as the pouch of gold at his waist, sauntered over to him in what she believed to be a sensual manner. Harry was positively revolted, but a snarl from Khariana sent her running back into the brothel behind her. He laughed to himself, less than surprised that prostitution was a big business in this cesspool of wizarding filth, with oily toads like Draco Malfoy swaggering about, desperate for any sex they can get.
Speak of the devil, Harry mused. In a side alley, speaking in hushed tones with a group of wizards that Harry assumed had to be Death Eaters, was the worthless heir to the house of bad faith. He inwardly prayed that Draco had taken the Dark Mark, as it would give Harry a valid excuse to beat the living shit out of him at school, and then have him tossed in Azkaban. But, for the moment, Harry just ignored his pretended rival. He took out Bill's directions and followed them. As the eldest Weasley son had said, Harry's destination was well off the beaten path, taking him into back alleys that he would not have even seen had they not been marked on the makeshift map. Upon reaching the end of the path, he found himself in front of a small, dusty shop, with windows so grimy that he couldn't even begin to see in. Sighing, he opened the wooden door and strode in, hoping that he hadn't wasted his time.
As soon as Harry entered the shop, a red jet of light flew at him from the back room, strong enough to indicate that it belonged to a wizard or witch of considerable strength and skill. Harry rolled forward to avoid the stunner, and his two tiger guardians leapt into a protective formation in front of him, growling dangerously. The beam impacted with the door frame, causing it to splinter. Harry drew his original wand as a figure stepped out from the same back room.
"Those are some good reflexes you got there, boy."
Harry's expression was stony, ice dripping from his response.
"I try. I hear from a friend that you design wands of high quality. I have come hoping to have one crafted."
The man stepped into the light. He was older, perhaps in his fifties, and looked to be of Hispanic descent. He took in Harry's appearance with nearly tangible disdain.
"Yeah? Well, I don't do work for little pureblooded elitist Death Eater snots. Get out of here, boy, before I get serious with you."
"And what, pray tell, makes you so certain that I serve Voldemort?"
A slight hint of respect crossed the wizard's face, before it contorted back into that same hateful scowl.
"Not many can say his name, boy. Still, you look every bit the little Death Eater bastard, with your long hair and fancy robes. And even if you're not, then you have to be in line with that idiot Minister or that old muggle-loving fool. I don't do work for their people either. Now get out."
Harry was amused by this point, and couldn't keep the cold venom in his tone.
"Yes, and that would explain why your shop is situated here in the middle of nowhere, and, by the looks of things, hasn't done any business in years. Tell me, old man, whom DO you deign to make wands for? By the way, you're wrong on all three counts. I hate Voldemort, I despise Fudge, and I can't stand Dumbledore either."
The spiteful look never left the shopkeeper's face.
"What do you think of Voldemort, boy?"
Harry shrugged.
"I think he's a nothing more than a glorified terrorist, and a hypocrite besides. He claims to advocate pureblooded supremacy, but he himself is a half blood, and he attacks even those of pure stock that manage to see the faulty logic behind his madness. He has no plan for the future, and is rather tactically inept. The forces of the "light" are making no serious effort to prosecute the war, and yet he still fails to achieve victory."
The shopkeeper nodded in agreement.
"And the other two?"
"Fudge and his Ministry are corrupt beyond salvation. Good people are held down by intrigue, bribery and misappropriation run rampant. Fudge and those around him are useless bigots, and control the media in order to string the general public along and cajole them into agreeing with their prejudicial ideas. As for Dumbledore, his intentions are pure enough, but he is an incapable, as evidenced by his colossal failures in managing the resistance during both of Voldemort's campaigns. He claims to be our world's protector, and yet it continues on a downward spiral. He is either unable or unwilling to take steps against it, and refuses to step aside and allow those with true vision and ability to lead our world into the future."
"Impressive. Perhaps I misjudged you. Now, for whom you fight, boy?"
Harry stared hard into the shopkeeper's eyes, and understood. This was a man that he could speak to with absolute candor, one that was ready and willing to hear the truth of what Harry once was, and what he has now become. Besides, he could always just kill the old codger if things spiraled out of control.
"I fight for myself, and for those of the new generation that would wrench control of our world from these decadent relics of the past, the Ministry and Dumbledore. I fight for those who have been slighted by the bigotry and corruption of wizarding society at large. I am a leader, old man, and not a follower. I am the being formerly known as Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. I am Harry Alphonse Evans, blood heir of the Great Grindelwald, prince of the dakaath, and the next ruler of our world. Now, does that satisfy you?"
The shopkeeper stared long and hard at Harry, and his face split into a broad grin.
"Well I'll be damned, Grindelwald's heir has risen. And I can feel the burning resolve within your soul, even though your face says nothing. Finally, somebody with true vision and purpose. Somebody worthy of holding one of my creations. I'll craft you a wand, boy. Come into the back room with me."
Harry strode along behind the old shopkeeper, with a noble bearing and a seasoned dueler's gait. He found himself in a much different room than the lobby. While dark, it was finely furnished, with odd magical substances placed about in an orderly fashion. The shopkeeper was placing various large cuts of wood on a long table on the far end of the room.
"Well, this is a welcome change of venue, as it were."
The shopkeeper smirked at Harry.
"First, we'll need to choose your wood. Just come over here and touch each of these. The one that gives the most tangible reaction to your magical essence is the wood we'll use for your wand."
"First, may I ask your name, sir?"
The shopkeeper nodded.
"The name's Alberto Rodriguez. I was an auror before getting into the wand business."
Well, that was interesting, Harry thought. Voldemort he could understand, but why would a former auror dislike the Ministry, or Dumbledore? Putting the thought aside, he complied with Alberto's instructions. Harry quickly noted that none of these woods were of the conventional variety. One seemed to have the texture of stone, another was seeping blood, and a sample in a far corner of the table seemed to radiate with an odd aura. These showed varying levels of response to Harry's essence, but one, a material that had the consistency of living tissue, colored the same forest green as Harry's eyes and wings, shined with an aurora of magical energy upon his touch, and began to pulse in a manner consistent with a human heart. Alberto had a look of pure glee upon his face. Harry turned to him.
"What is this, Alberto?"
"That, boy, is a material that I would never have thought to have found a compatible wizard. It is the living magical essence of an elder treant, a substance of immense potential. This will no doubt be the most powerful wand that I have ever crafted. Now, we need to choose the materials to fuse into the wand's core. Most wand crafters, Ollivander, for example, use only one, but I employ two. Think, boy, of two items that you would most associate with the core of your being, of your very existence."
Harry did so, and a tentative answer came to him quickly. He reached inside his robes and felt around for his wings. He plucked two feathers from his own body, and lay them on the counter. Of course, they were still invisible from the earlier treatment. He looked to Alberto.
"Can you undo the effects of an invisibility solution?"
The old shopkeeper nodded, pulling out his own wand. He aimed where Harry had placed his hand upon the counter.
"Reverso Invicicium!"
The two forest-colored feathers appeared on the counter, as Alberto looked to Harry.
"What are these?"
"Feathers, from my own body. It's difficult to explain, but they contain the core symbolism of my dakaathi heritage."
"Dakaathi? What in Morganna's name is that supposed to mean, boy?"
"Don't worry about it. Will they work?"
"They ought to, if they come from your own body. Now, as these come from a living body, they should be suspended in a blood medium, in order to maximize their effect. Using your own blood would be pointless, as that would just be the exact same magical essence, and there would be no reaction between the two components. Tell me, boy, what are those two pets of yours?"
Harry glanced back at the door, seeing Grindelwald and Khariana standing there at attention.
"Magical breeds of tiger, a Bengal and a Siberian White. I hatched them from containment eggs in my family's vault, and they're magically bonded to me."
Alberto nodded again, grabbing a long needle and a small vial from the table.
"They ought to do perfectly, then. I'd like to take a small blood sample from each. Their magic is bonded to yours, but the essence is different. This also means that your wand will have three core materials: the feathers, and two different blood mediums. It's rare that I can craft that many into a single wand, boy."
"You'd better let me do it. They're liable to attack if you get too close."
Taking the two items from Alberto, Harry walked over to his two pets. They seemed to sense what he needed, as both offered up a front paw without any hesitation. He gently extracted en equal amount of blood from each, enough to fill the vial. The blood seemed to glow as the two samples mixed. He brought the vial back over the Alberto and set it down next to the feathers.
"Excellent, now, the next step it to shape the wood. Focus your magic and touch the treant core. It will carve itself into the shape best suited to you."
Harry did so, deciding to use his left hand. He focused a small amount of chaotic energy into his hand, just enough to resonate with the material, but not to be overtly toxic to the living magical tissue. Resting his hand slightly on the treant core, he could feel it begin to vibrate and change form beneath him. While waiting, he decided to prod Alberto for more personal information.
"I've trusted you with my story, so tell me yours. How does an auror come into the wand business?"
Alberto cast his eyes downward, and had pure fury in his eyes as he looked back to Harry.
"I was a part of an elite unit headed up by Alastor Moody during Voldemort's first rising. Unlike him, I was never known for kinder methods of apprehension. Yes, boy, I used the Dark Arts liberally, fighting fuego con fuego. Comprende? Moody always mistrusted me for that, and interceded on more than one occasion to prevent my getting promoted to auror captain, despite the fact that my capture rate was second only to his own."
Harry nodded. Simple jealousy, he thought.
"One day, while I was off on a raid, a small crack unit of Death Eaters, headed up by Lucius Malfoy, attacked my home, killing my wife and two daughters. I came home, found my house burning with the Dark Mark in the air. I rushed to try and save my family, to see that piece of shit Malfoy raping my eleven year old daughter's dead body, while his cronies chuckled in the background..."
Harry mentally added another bullet point to his short list of reasons to torture Lucius Malfoy into insanity, but kept his face impassive as he continued to listen.
"I tracked them down, boy, and I killed every last one of them, save for Malfoy. That slippery bastard escaped. Moody and my other squadmates arrived at the scene, and I went after Malfoy, expecting them to follow. As soon as I turned my back, that son of a bitch Moody stunned me. I was hauled before an internal tribunal, raked over the coals for letting my personal feelings interfere with my duty, and kicked off the force. They even had the gall to claim that they showed me mercy by not sentencing me to Azkaban for the murder of five wizards. I hate them all, boy. I hate Voldemort for taking away my family. I hate the Ministry for turning its back on me. And I hate Dumbledore for allowing people like Voldemort and Malfoy to exist, despite being the most powerful wizard alive, as well as our word's supposed protector. Bah! That's why I refuse to craft wands for any of their people."
"And how exactly did you get into this business, then?"
"Not much to say. My family has been crafting wands back in Mexico for generations. I learned the trade growing up. After I was kicked off the force, and my first wand snapped, I took the little money I had saved, that was supposed to be for my little girls' Hogwarts education, and invested it in this little shop, secluded away from the scum that I despise so much. When my father died, I inherited most of his rare materials, including the treant core that your wand is being crafted from. Speaking of which, it should be finished now."
Harry looked down, to see a true work of art resting beneath his hands, still of the same forest green color, roughly seventeen inches in length. The wand bore the standard form, but had a carved serpentine dragon coiling around the shaft, its fanged mouth wide open and pointing in the same direction as the tip. The creature's wings flared out to either side of its body. Below the dragon, the wand has an ornately carved handle, comfortable to the touch, capable of producing a much stronger grip than the standard Ollivander variety. Harry's old wand looked like a child's toy compared to this masterpiece. As he admired it, the coiled dragon fidgeted slightly. The treant core seemingly had retained its living qualities.
"Its mouth is open. Does that mean anything, Alberto?"
The former auror nodded in amazement, while reaching into a cabinet and producing a large array of different stones. Setting the array before Harry, he spoke.
"Apparently, this wand desires a discharge stone. These are rare foci that amplify a spell's magical potential as it fires from the core. This wand is going to be like no other, boy. Now, come here and concentrate your magic again. The proper stone will levitate into the air."
Harry again complied, wondering just how long crafting his new wand would take. Two stones levitated into the air, rather than just one. The first was a radiant gold, and seemed to glow as bright as the sun. The second was a mercurial silver, and emitted a faint light of its own. Both shattered into crystal, and recombined into a single stone that bore a heterogeneous mixture of both. Alberto attempted to explain.
"A sunstone and a moonstone...two opposing elements combined into one focus. I wouldn't have thought this possible, boy. This bears some portent, though I know not what it is. No matter, let's get this wand put together."
Alberto brought the element together, first pouring the mixture of Grindelwald and Khariana's blood into the hollow shaft, and then pushing Harry's feathers down into the chute. The shaft sealed by itself, evidence of the treant core's living properties. Finally, the dragon's mouth upon a bit wider, allowing Alberto to fit the composite stone into place. The result was magnificent. Harry could feel pure magical power surging through every fiber of his being as he held it. This was the true strength brought upon by his transformation. He turned to Alberto appreciatively.
"Excellent work, Alberto. How much is this going to cost me?"
"Keep your money, boy. You can pay me another way."
"What do you have in mind?"
"You're serious about fixing the problems plaguing our world. Let me join you. I can assure you that this old body still has a bit of fire left in it. I've been sitting idle here, sulking over my fate, for much too long now. It's time for me to get my revenge, both on Malfoy, and on Moody and the Ministry."
Harry considered the proposal. Alberto Rodriguez was a wand maker of great skill, and was a trainer auror and a formidable wizard besides. He would prove exceedingly useful. The answer was obvious. Harry extended his hand.
"Very well, welcome aboard."
Alberto shook Harry's hand.
"It's a pleasure. I'll need some time to prepare to leave this place. Where can I go once I'm ready?"
"Just go over to Gringotts and ask for Bill Weasley, and if he's not there, tell the attendant that Lord Evans has sent you to speak with the President. Either one will tell you what you can do from there. Now, I have other business to attend to, so I'll be taking my leave. Thank you again for this masterpiece."
"It was your own magical essence that created it. I just put it together. Vaya con Dios, Harry."
Harry nodded and left Alberto's shop, Grindelwald and Khariana training behind, confident at having secured yet another powerful ally.
The next destination was Madame Malkin's, to order new school robes, as well as formal and battle wear. The trip from Knockturn Alley was uneventful. Draco had long since gone his merry way, and the street hags were far too terrified of Harry's feral mannerisms, as well as the two tigers snarling maliciously on his flanks, to dare approach him. He reached the clothier in a matter of a few minutes, and motioned to Grindelwald and Khariana to wait for him outside the entrance. Hoping that the irritating saleswitch from his last visit wasn't in the shop this time, he strode in, exposing his scar as he did so. He didn't particularly care to expose himself, but he knew that he would get priority service at the place based on his celebrity, and he really wanted to get his shopping finished. Madame Malkin herself was operating the shop this time, and Harry walked right up to the counter, bracing himself for the coming irritation of having to answer to the name "Potter". Forcing an affable smile onto his face, despite having a serious urge to scowl, Harry addressed the proprietor.
"Good afternoon, Madame Malkin. I was hoping to perhaps purchase some new robes?"
The woman turned to face him.
"Bless my soul, Harry Potter! Where have you been, young man? Half the wizarding world has been searching day and night for you! Give me a moment to floo the Headmaster."
Not good, Harry thought. He should have known that showing his face in the main alley was a mistake. He had to act quickly.
"Please, you needn't bother. I'm taking the Knight Bus over to Hogsmeade as soon as I'm done here. I just need to get my shopping done first, and this is my last stop."
She looked at him skeptically, but relented at the innocent look on his face.
"Very well, then. What can I do for you today, Harry?"
"I mostly need school robes, but I'd also like a set of formal dress robes, and, perhaps most importantly, a set of battle robes. Can't be too careful these days, you know. I'll have the Hogwarts and dress robes done in the finest silks you have available, and likewise on the dragon hide for the battle robes. Money is of no concern."
"Acromantula silk is quite expensive, Harry. Only the wealthiest families tend to purchase it, but if you say so, I'll have them made. As for your battle robes, we've recently received a shipment of black basilisk hide from the swamps of South America, if you'd be interested in an alternative to dragon hide."
"How is it for spell resistance?"
"On par with most types of dragon hide, but it's also lighter and allows for greater flexibility. We have just enough for two good sets of robes."
Harry nodded.
"I'll take them both."
Madame Malkin gasped slightly, but motioned for Harry to come back to the fitting room. As he followed, another customer walked into the shop, glancing around disdainfully.
Narcissa Malfoy was not having a good summer. First, her husband had somehow managed to botch a raid on the Ministry of Magic in the Dark Lord's name, and was subsequently carted off to Azkaban, much to her public mortification. Privately, she might have been pleased at being freed from Lucius's tyrannical rule and tight limits on her spending, but unfortunately, his imprisonment automatically established Draco as lord of the manor, emancipating him and placing him in charge of the family's finances. Her useless son seemed to take vindictive pleasure in denying his mother a spending stipend, and she was not going to lower herself to asking him for money.
And that wasn't the worst of her problems. She could tolerate not being allowed to spend liberally. After all, she had suffered it for years with her husband. However, just as soon as Draco had come into the inheritance, the Dark Lord had ordered him to take the Dark Mark, and serve in his father's stead. Now, she was forced to suffer her son's constant prattling about his schemes to destroy "bloody Saint Potter" in his master's name, as if the boy were actually capable of devising and executing a plan beyond dirty Quidditch tactics. Draco had also taken to spending heavily, particularly in financing the Dark Lord's fruitless operations. He was running through the Malfoy fortunes faster than a Niffler in heat, and the family would be bankrupt within the year unless something was done.
And, the final irritation, Narcissa's automatic monthly stipend from her own family's fortunes, the one that she had received without fail ever since reaching her majority, was suspended with her cousin's death, pending the approval of the new Lord Black. Bloody crazy bitch, Bellatrix. She just couldn't stop herself. Narcissa barely recognized her insane sister as being family anymore, and avoided her as much as possible. This was becoming increasingly difficult, since the woman had taken to visiting Malfoy Manor much more frequently, after both Lucius and her own husband had been sent to Azkaban. Narcissa couldn't borrow money from Bellatrix, either, since the Ministry had confiscated the Lestrange fortunes in full after their original sentencing to Azkaban, and she was a wanted fugitive besides. Narcissa wondered who the new Lord Black could be. It wasn't Draco, she would have known about that in a matter of minutes, given the brat's willingness to boast. She had a sinking feeling that it would be Harry Potter, the boy that her cousin Sirius had looked upon as a surrogate son. It would be a cold day in Hades before Potter would condescend to alleviate the plight of his school rival's mother.
And speak of the devil, stalking out from the fitting room, scar exposed for the world to see, was the golden boy himself. He calmly took a seat on the waiting room sofa, leaving a good distance between himself and Narcissa. She gave the boy who was verily the bane of her only son's existence an appraising look. He was a far cry from being the grubby, bespectacled urchin that Draco had so often drawled on about, and certainly looked nothing like the scrawny little boy she had vaguely recalled from the Quidditch World Cup a few years back. He was reasonably tall and quite well dressed, and his long hair was tied back in proper wizarding fashion. Further, he carried himself with a certain bearing, dignified, but with an underlying hint of ferocity, one that reflected within his forest green eyes. His gait exhibited the feral grace of a trained duelist, much like her husband's. She felt a pang of worry for Draco, knowing that her son was not likely to survive an encounter with this young man. Oh, yes, if not for the fact that he was Harry Potter, Narcissa would have found him irresistably attractive. Her eyes strayed to the ring adorning his left hand. No, that was impossible. His mother had borne the name Evans, but she was a mudblood. Her thoughts were interrupted as his head snapped over to her, and he regarded her with a neutral tone.
"May I help you, Mrs. Malfoy?"
She returned his haze haughtily.
"No, Potter. I was simply admiring the ring on your finger. You are aware of its significance, I hope?"
His eyes sparkled with hidden amusement. He wasn't in the least intimidated or offended by her presence. Both facts surprised Narcissa.
"It is my maternal great-grandfather's wedding band, a gift from a foreign princess. I suppose it could also be taken to signify the lordship of the Evans family, though I know not if it is, in fact, the official legacy ring. What surprises me, Mrs. Malfoy, is that you recognize it. It hasn't been worn in fifty years, and there hasn't been an active head of the family in well over a century. After all, Lord Grindelwald hardly placed much emphasis upon his social and political obligations."
"True, most would not recognize that ring, nor would they connect it to the Evans family. Lord Grindelwald performed quite remarkably in keeping the social stigma of his name away from his ancestral line. As for myself, I have always taken a personal interest in the genealogy of the old wizarding families. Consider it a hobby of mine. However, I am curious as to how you have come into the lordship. Your mother bore the name Evans, but she was of common muggle stock. Could you explain for me?"
"From what I have been told, Grindelwald fathered an heir in the later years of his life. The boy was a squib, and on the last night before his final defeat at the hands of Professor Dumbledore, Grindelwald instructed his most trusted general to hide his son within the muggle world, safe from any potential threats posed by post-war purges. He married and sired my mother, who in turn bore me. My mother was heiress to one of the oldest lines, though she never even had a clue. The President of Gringotts has held the ring in trust for the last half century, and summoned me personally to claim my inheritance roughly a month ago."
The President of Gringotts? The President never met with wizard clientele. Lucius had requested meetings with the head goblin on several occasions, only to be curtly denied. Not even the Minister of Magic could meet with him. If Potter was telling the truth, if he had a direct link to the head of the bank hierarchy, then perhaps...
"The President of Gringotts? Is he a friend of yours, Pott..."
Harry's eyes narrowed a bit. He knew that she was up to something. Narcissa realized that he wasn't going to be lured in by veiled questions.
"Evans. I've decided to adopt my mother's maiden name, since I am, after all, the active head of the family. And as for your question, yes. President Grilthauk and I have come onto rather amicable terms. Why do you ask?"
Narcissa decided to take a risk. It certainly seemed that Potter, or Evans, could be the answer to all of her difficulties. If he had the ear of the President, then he could easily have Draco supplanted as the controller of the Malfoy finances in her favor, or at least have a limit placed upon the boy's spending, and a sizable stipend placed into a private vault for Narcissa's personal use. The only issue was how to induce him to cooperate. She couldn't offer him money, as she had none at the moment, and he had no need for it anyway. She remembered exactly why she had come to this shop.
Narcissa had originally come to Madame Malkin's in order to use the last of her gold to purchase a rather provocative dress, and proceed to pay a visit to one of wizarding Britain's wealthiest private financiers in order to procure a short-term loan. Anton Borgia was an absolute pig of a man, and Narcissa was fully aware of what she would have had to do in order to procure a loan, and of the probable terms of repayment. The fat, greasy swine would have taken great vindictive pleasure in making the pureblooded society queen gratify his perverted whims.
Now, the angle had changed. She was certain that she could use her feminine wiles in order to procure the young lord's assistance, and he seemed to be honorable enough to let one night be the end of it. Besides, he was certainly handsome, even more so than Lucius had been in his youth, and she could work with his probable inexperience. Steeling herself, she looked right into his forest green eyes, but not before glancing towards the back to make certain that Madame Malkin wasn't approaching.
"I ask, Mr. Evans, because I have a certain set of issues, and I now believe that you could be instrumental in assisting me in their resolution. Perhaps you might be willing to join me for a cup of tea, so that we can further discuss the matter? I am fully willing and able to compensate you, if you require."
Most boys would have blushed or stuttered at such a direct proposal, but Harry didn't so much as flinch. He simply quirked an eyebrow and responded in a slightly lower tone of voice, one that carried equal hints of seduction and amusement.
"Are you propositioning me, Mrs. Malfoy? While I'm more than interested in listening to exactly what your offer might be, it doesn't do to discuss such business in public places. Who knows what ears might be listening in? Perhaps a private meeting would be more suitable..."
"Perhaps you are correct. As it happens, I have a certain location in mind. Allow me to supply you with directions."
Narcissa reached into her handbag, pulling out a customized quill and a small piece of parchment. As she wrote, Madame Malkin returned from the fitting room, having completed the physical plans for Harry's robes.
Harry stood, and walked over to the counter to meet the store proprietor and pay his bill.
"You bill comes to nine thousand, seven hundred and twenty three galleons, that is for all of the robes, and the delivery fee. It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Potter. Shall I have the robes sent to Hogwarts?"
Harry chuckled softly at Narcissa Malfoy's incredulous gasp from behind him when Madame Malkin gave the purchase price.
"No, I'll come for them personally in a week or so. They are not to be surrendered to any other party, regardless of what they may say. I trust they'll be prepared by then? Don't bother adjusting the price, I'm in a bit of a hurry."
Madam Malkin nodded, albeit a bit confused. Harry paid the appropriate amount, and turned to leave. Narcissa brushed past him as he walked smoothly towards the exit, slipping the folded parchment into his right hand. He left the store, whistled for Grindelwald and Khariana, and started down the street, reading the note. It was nothing complicated, just instructions to floo to a certain room at the Hotel Verdant in Watercress Alley at ten o'clock sharp that evening. He shook his head slightly at the last part, at Narcissa dictating the time down to the second, as if the woman were doing him some huge favor by spreading her legs for him. He immediately resolved to be at least fifteen minutes or so late for their liaison, if only to show her who exactly was in control. Harry wasn't sure what exactly Draco's mother wanted from him, though he assumed it involved using his connection with Grilthauk for her advantage somehow. He fully intended to turn her manipulations against her. For now, though, he needed to return to Gringotts, and get his ticket into Liangshan Alley in order to meet with Master Ts'ao Chang.
However, Harry's preoccupation with Narcissa Malfoy had caused him to make a critical error. He had forgotten to cover up his scar again upon leaving the clothier...
(End Chapter Seven)
Author's Note: I was hoping to get this one out late last night, but I just became too exhausted to finish. So, I simply decided to give you readers a slightly longer chapter instead. I had originally wanted to finish this chapter with a Harry/Narcissa sex scene, but I decided that two straight trysts to end chapters was enough. It'll be in the next one, for certain, as will be Harry's meeting with the master smith in Liangshan Alley, and his initial confrontation with the Order of the Phoenix. Hopefully I can get things back to Hogwarts by chapter ten or eleven, but again, I prefer to keep the pace from getting too rapid. Just remember that everything that I'm doing in these slow paced chapters will come into play more later on. I particularly hope you readers liked Rodriguez, and Harry's new wand. Both will have very important roles in the plot later in the story.
Thanks for all the reviews, and I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. Keep reviewing, folks. I always enjoy reading them.