23 July 2011
The day after Harry received his Hogwarts letter was Saturday and, at Sirius' insistence, Jane agreed to take Harry to Diagon Alley to buy his supplies. She'd hesitated to do so, given the unreasonable fame Harry had in the British magical world, but Sirius had, quite reasonably, reminded her that Diagon Alley was where both of Harry's parents had gotten their supplies, and since Harry wanted to experience what his parents had, then he, too, should shop Diagon Alley.
So Jane had called James, and it was a couple with their son who made their way through the Leaky Cauldron into Diagon Alley.
Before leaving, Jane had applied a color-changing charm to Harry's eyes, turning their distinctive emerald green to a soft, earthy brown. She'd tried changing Harry's hair as well, but it had reverted to its natural state almost immediately. So she settled for applying a bit of foundation to the pale white lightning bolt scar on his forehead.
Hopefully, those changes, plus the fact that he was accompanied by his parents, would confuse anyone who might be looking for Harry Potter.
Sirius had told her which brick to tap with her wand to open the portal to Diagon Alley, so Jane waved away the publican's offer of assistance and led the way through the pub into the courtyard.
The trio stepped away from the portal and paused, allowing Harry to look his fill - and to give a freshly groomed large black dog time to lope up to them.
The dog reared up on Harry and ran a wide, slobbery tongue up Harry's cheek.
"Padfoot!" Harry all but yelled, shoving the dog away and rubbing his cheek against his shoulder to dry it.
Padfoot plopped his butt on the ground and offered a big doggy grin as his tail thumped the sidewalk.
"Right," James said. "Did anyone bring a leash?"
Padfoot growled, Harry laughed, and Jane rolled her eyes.
"Which first?" Harry asked. "Wand, books, robe, or supplies?"
"Robes, I'd think," James put in. "If they need to be tailored, best to know early. We can pick them up when everything else is done."
"But Gringotts first," Jane said firmly. "At the very least, I need to change some pounds for Galleons."
*BREAK*
Only James' years in spycraft kept him from staring as the small party entered Gringotts. Instead, he surveyed the spacious bank lobby with practiced glances.
Inside the vast marble hall, about a hundred small beings he thought he remembered were called goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large legers, weighing coins in brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. Too many doors to count led off the hall, and even more goblins were showing people in and out of them.
Jane - and even now, nearly a decade later, it still felt intimate to think of her by her given name - started toward the counter, and James took two long strides to catch up as she approached a free goblin.
"Good morning," she said. "We're here to visit Harry Potter's safe."
The goblin looked down from the counter. "Harry Potter?"
"Yes, sir," Harry replied. Then he lowered his voice, "I'm a little disguised, for my safety."
"Do you have your key?" the goblin asked, and James wasn't the only one who frowned at the question - Jane and Harry did, too, and probably Padfoot, if the dog could have a human expression.
"No, sir," Harry answered. "I've very little that belonged to my parents, and nothing that looks like a vault key."
The goblin frowned. "It is unwise to allow anyone else to control your vault key."
Jane snorted. "As though a fifteen-month-old would know anything about such matters."
The goblin jerked back, clearly startled, and it was all James could do to hold back a laugh. Beside him, Padfoot shook briefly.
"But." Jane stepped closer to the counter and lowered her voice that even James, less than a meter away, had difficulty hearing. "I am Lily Potter's sister. I request a blood confirmation that we are who we say we are, and privacy while we do so."
Thirty minutes later, Jane's relation to Harry, as well as their identities, had been confirmed, Harry's vault had been re-keyed, and James had seen more gold than he knew existed all in one place.
When they emerged into the bright summer morning light, Harry looked up at Jane.
"Why didn't you tell me I had money?" Harry asked quietly. There was no accusation in the tone, just honest curiosity.
"I didn't know," Jane answered, urging him to start down the alley. James followed and Padfoot, who'd waited outside the bank, fell into step beside him.
Harry frowned. "What?"
"I didn't know," Jane repeated. "The Potters were wealthy, but there was a civil war going on. I didn't know how much of that wealth went to the war effort - though I shouldn't be surprised your mother made sure you had a trust account that couldn't be touched."
"Organization and efficiency run in the family," James commented, and Jane glanced over her shoulder to smile at him.
"Besides," Jane continued, "we had enough, and I felt it better to let any accounts continue earning interest, rather than dip into them for everyday expenses. Though I am concerned that your solicitors, as your legal representatives, haven't contacted you."
"That's probably for his safety," James murmured. "Certainly that's the reason given for pretty much anything else surrounding him."
Padfoot gave a bark that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, and Jane smiled again, more ruefully.
"Yes, well," she said and a slight blush tinged her cheeks. "Robes, yes?"
*BREAK*
Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions shop was familiar to James - not the shop itself, of course, but the ambiance. He'd felt the same in shops on Saville Row, and that familiarity invited him to relax, at least a little, while Harry got fitted for robes.
Then it was time for Harry to get his wand. James admitted, privately, that he was as excited for it as Harry himself. Padfoot, too, judging by the excited whine he gave as the party approached Ollivander's.
"Hello." An old man with wide-set moon-like eyes - presumably Ollivander, the proprietor - came forward. "Your first wand, I take it?"
"Yes, sir," Harry said.
Ollivander pulled a long tape measure with silver markings from his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"
"Erm…I'm - right handed?" Harry said, though it was as much a question as a statement.
"Hold out your arm. That's it."
Ollivander measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. James thought the production was rather like a stage magician's, designed to impress and distract more than to actually accomplish anything.
But as he measured - or, more accurately, the wand measured apparently of its own accord - Ollivander spoke. "Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."
Ollivander prattled on, and James found himself distracted by the other bits and bobs in the shop: wand care kits, holsters, and the like. He supposed a wand was rather like the gun he often carried in the line of duty and should be treated similarly.
"What do you think, Padfoot?" he murmured to the animal beside him. "Do you think Harry would appreciate a holster for his birthday?"
A couple of thumps of Padfoot's tail was answer enough, and James selected a holster of some kind of leather with a simple geometric pattern stamped in it, along with a care kit.
When he turned back to the till, he realized that Harry had tested at least half a dozen wands while he'd been distracted. No, he mentally corrected himself, at least a full dozen, to judge by the pile of boxes on a spindly chair by the till.
"Tricky customer, eh?" Ollivander sounded almost gleeful. "Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere - I wonder now - yes, why not - unusual combination - holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."
Harry took the wand, raised it over his head, and brought it swishing down through the dusty air. A stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end of the wand like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light across the walls of the shop.
Padfoot's tail thumped madly against the floor.
"Oh, bravo!" Ollivander cried. "Yes, indeed, oh, very good." He paused, a frown gracing his features. "Only…how curious. How very, very curious."
"What's curious?" Jane asked, saving James the trouble.
Ollivander fixed her with his pale stare. "I remember every wand I've ever sold - every single one. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in this wand gave just one other feather. It's very curious indeed that Mr. Potter here-" James stiffened at the name, as they hadn't introduced themselves "-should be destined for this wand when its brother was used the night his parents died."
The other three seemed shocked into stillness, and the wand slipped from Harry's fingers. James darted forward, snatched the wand before it hit the ground.
A glance at Harry, then Jane showed neither had quite collected themselves yet, so James cleared his throat and drew Ollivander's attention to him.
"Yes?" Ollivander asked.
"How much for the wand, a care kit, and this holster?" James put the named items on the counter next to the till.
"Sorry?" Ollivander looked startled by the request. Or perhaps the entire sequence of events, James couldn't tell. Ollivander recovered quickly. "Ah - seven Galleons for the wand, two for the holster, and one for the kit. Ten total."
"Right." James took out the money pouch he'd gotten at Gringotts after exchanging a hundred pounds for Galleons, counted out ten Galleons, and placed them on the till. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Ollivander."
He gathered the purchases and herded the others out of the shop and into the alley proper. A breeze had grown up while they were inside, but it did little to cool the heat of the morning.
"I won't let him use that wand," Jane said.
"I don't want to use that wand," Harry said at the same time.
Padfoot growled his agreement with both of them.
"He won't," James told Jane, then looked at Harry and repeated, more firmly, "You won't. This was just the simplest, fastest way to extract ourselves from the situation."
"But-" Harry started, swallowed, and started again. "You still have the wand, even though you said I won't be using it?"
"We'll get another wand for you," James said. "Perhaps some of Jane's contacts in Paris can assist?"
Jane nodded briefly, and James hoped his smile at Harry was reassuring. "We'll do some research into what brother wands mean, and then we'll decide what to do with this one - store it or destroy it."
Harry nodded, and Jane relaxed. Padfoot whined, and when James glanced over, he saw that Padfoot was staring upwind down the alley.
"We'd never make you use that wand," Jane said. "It's…obscene that he sold it to you."
"But - what does it say about me?" Harry asked, his tone and expression both far too somber for the day. "That his wand should be a brother to mine?"
"Perhaps that you share similar strengths, even if you turned them in different directions," Jane said. James was still watching Padfoot, whose entire body was lined with tensions. "Or perhaps that he simply got tired of searching for wands."
"But it reacted to me," Harry said. "It felt warm in my hand, and then there were the sparks…."
"Harry-" Jane began, but James wasn't listening to more because Padfoot was on his feet, growling low in his throat.
James turned his gaze to mimic Padfoot's, automatically surveying the alley as he did. Late morning on a Saturday, shoppers thronged the street between the shops, what James would've called the high street in any village. A double handful of families, mostly with only one or two children of varying ages, mingled with singles and couples.
One family stood out, though, for its sheer size - five children - plus the fact that they were all gingers. James idly wondered how those genetics actually worked as he studied the group. Mother, the oldest son, a pair of twins, then another son, and a small girl who was obviously the youngest.
As the gingers drew closer, Padfoot's growl intensified slightly.
"Something with the ginger family?" James asked and got a single thump of Padfoot's tail in acknowledgment.
"Right," the mother was saying, her voice carrying over the crowd, probably as the result of having to make herself heard over the noise five children could create. "It's the apothecary for your potions kits, and then we're done."
"But Mum," the youngest boy said, "we have to go to the Menagerie. Scabbers needs his tonic."
The boy reached inside his pocket and pulled out a rat, who looked to be asleep.
Padfoot stiffened, his growl turning even more dangerous. James rested a hand on Padfoot's head, telling himself the gesture was no different than resting his hand on a comrade's shoulder.
"Yes, right," the mother said. "The apothecary, then the Menagerie."
James was wondering how he could approach the family to ask about the rat, Padfoot - or rather, Sirius - took the decision out of his hands by lunging, as swiftly and silently as the Grim his form so strongly remembered, toward the family and snatching the rat from the youngest boy's hands.
James spared a moment to regret welcoming Sirius into Her Majesty's Secret Service, because surely he'd never otherwise have learned to shift back to human mid-stride while still holding onto the rat.
Sirius smiled at the rat even as he drew his wand. "Hello, Peter. Stupefy."
"Moneypenny," James snapped, the use of her surname a signal that this was a professional situation, then hurried to the family of redheads, who were only now coming out of their shock.
Unfortunately, for that family, it appeared anger equaled volume. Led by their mother, they all started to shout - some yelling for an Auror, some cursing Sirius, and the youngest boy screamed, "Don't you hurt Scabbers!"
James barreled in just as the mother's wand came out. Thankfully, none of the children appeared old enough to have wand rights outside of school. "My apologies for my partner's manners."
The mother started, and it was enough that she didn't cast whatever spell she'd been intending. "Your - partner?"
James smiled, the practiced smile he'd used so many times in service to Her Majesty. "Commander James Bond, at your service, Madam. My partner, there, is Sirius Black."
The name sent another ripple of shock through the family.
"What's that - man - doing with Ron's pet?" the mother demanded.
"This is no rat, Molly Weasley," Sirius snapped. Then he frowned, puzzled. "Well, he's in his rat form, and he's a rat in the sense that you can't trust him. But this is Peter Pettigrew, the man who betrayed the Potters to Voldemort."
"But - he's been in the family for years," the youngest boy - Ron - protested.
"We've had him since I was little," the - apparently - eldest said. Then his face paled. "But rats, even magical ones, don't live that long. Why didn't we ever notice?"
"Perhaps because he's lying," the mother - Molly - said hotly. "He may have been declared innocent of conspiring to murder James and Lily Potter, but he's a Black, and they can't be trusted."
Sirius' grin was evil, pointed. "Is that so? Then how can you have married Arthur, whose mother was Cedrella Black Weasley?"
The Weasley woman sputtered, and James took advantage of the opening. "Sirius - we can prove this right now. Since you already have your wand out, returning him to his human form will only take a moment. I have suppression cuffs ready."
He pulled said cuffs from a pocket, thankful now that he'd given in to the odd impulse to have a set with him during what should have been a routine shopping trip.
Then again, he mused, perhaps it wasn't such an odd impulse. He always carried his service weapon, after all. How were suppression cuffs any different from his other routine gear.
Sirius nodded once, sharp and hard, and dropped the rat onto the ground. Their scene had gathered a bit of a crowd, and it seemed that the onlookers took a collective breath, holding it in anticipation.
Sirius aimed his wand. "Homo Fierus. Stupefy."
A bright blue light surrounded the rat, and James watched the result almost clinically. It was like watching a speeded-up film of a growing tree. A head was shooting upwards from the ground; limbs were sprouting; next moment, a man was lying supine where the rat had been. Then a bolt of red light hit him, and James took the cue.
It was only a moment before he had the suppression cuffs on the rat-faced man lying in the street.
"What's going on here?" a deep male voice demanded.
"We've caught a fugitive for you," Sirius said, and James suspected it was only his training in Her Majesty's Secret Service that kept him from outright gloating. "Peter Pettigrew."
James turned to see a tall Black man in Auror robes striding forward. Another Auror accompanied him, and behind them both Jane had hold of Harry, though James couldn't be certain whether she held him for comfort or to stop him attacking Pettigrew.
Quickly, the Aurors took charge of the situation, replacing James' suppression cuffs with their own as Sirius gave a brief statement.
The Black Auror frowned when Sirius finished. "Why were you in your Animagus form?"
"Extra security for my family," Sirius said simply. "The alley is always crowded before term starts, and anything can happen in a crowd."
Thankfully, the Aurors seemed to accept that explanation, so they wouldn't have to reveal that Sirius' family included Harry Potter.
James rejoined Jane and Harry as Sirius finished with the Aurors.
"Are you all right, Harry?" James rested a hand on his shoulder.
Harry shook his head, his eyes hard. "I won't be all right until Pettigrew is tried and punished for his crimes."
"That'll happen as soon as possible," Sirius said as he joined them. "We'll make sure of it. But-" he added, smiling suddenly, "today's about getting someone ready for school."
"We're done," Jane said. "I think," she corrected herself, glancing down the supply list once more. Finally, she said, "That's everything except picking up his robes."
"One thing more," Sirius said, and James wasn't the only one who turned to look at him. "It's a bit early for your birthday, but I'd planned to get you an owl. Conveniently," he added, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "We're right by Eeylops. You up for an extra stop, Harry?"