Disclaimer: I do not now, nor will I ever, own the intellectual property of Harry Potter, or any related properties. This work is not intended to produce a profit of any sort.

Chapter Three: The First Omen

The bustle of the postgame crowd gave Harry the perfect opportunity to disappear almost as well as he could have in an invisibility cloak. He had stuck around just long enough for Tonks to tell him that she was going to join Arthur in talking to the French head auror before he slipped from the top box without having to face Fudge, pursued closely by Ron and Hermione. Now that he was on his feet and moving the discomfort in his stomach seemed to have lessened into an uneasy knot accompanied by occasional flashes of heat across his body rather than the constant flips he had been enduring earlier. 'Well, it's better than nothing at least. Besides, I'm getting close to the tent, if I can just go and lie down for a while...'

"Mate, you okay? You barely paid any attention to the match after those veela came out. They were definitely something, but not enough to ignore Victor Krum catching the snitch over..."

Harry snapped out of his unrealized stupor, looking at Ron as if he'd forgotten that he was ever there in the first place, drawing a concerned look from Hermione as he absently nodded his head and did his best to spread a smile across his face, "Oh, uh yeah, I'm fine now. I'm sorry if I ruined the match for you guys..."

Ron waved the apology away, clearly still high on the Irish victory, "As if anybody could mess up that game! Fred and George are going to make a killing off that Bagman guy, they bet him that this is exactly what would happen." His smile dulled slightly at the thought of the money the twins were making, before seeming to shrug it off as he gazed around the campsite excitedly, "So what should we do? I bet that we could convince Bill to sneak us some firewhiskey if we found him..."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the suggestion while Harry's stomach churned, "I hardly think that would be a good idea right now, Ron, maybe we should find our tent before we start making plans though." The redhead groaned at her reasoning, but complied as she shot him an unimpressed look before turning her attention back towards Harry while Ron took the lead ahead of them. "Harry...are you sure you're alright? You act like you're not feeling good, is it your scar?"

A grateful smile found its way onto Harry's face at her question, 'She never changes, always has to know everything and find a way to fix all the problems.' He mused with amusement before grimacing at another pang, "I promise I'm okay, Hermione, I think I just need to eat something." The dark haired wizard assured her.

The bushy haired witch eyed him suspiciously for a few moments before slowly nodding, "If you're sure...in that case let's grab something before the vendors get overrun."

With that decided, the two friends caught up to Ron who was only too happy to join them as they searched out a vendor and finished making their way towards the Weasley camp. By the time that the trio had walked into the tent they found the twins and the two eldest redheaded children sitting around the table laughing and drinking from a bottle that he knew didn't have butterbeer in it while Ginny appeared to be suspiciously absent. "Hey there, Harry!" Fred chimed exuberantly, waving at the three of them widely before taking a deep swig out of the bottle.

George grinned just as brightly as his brother, "And Hermione!"

There was a short pause as everybody simply stared at each other, the trio too surprised to say anything, until Ron crossed his arms with frustration, "What about me?!"

The table erupted into drunken laughter at the youngest Weasley boy's question, "Oh we haven't forgotten about you either, ickle Ronniekins!" Fred beamed back before waving them towards the table invitingly, causing the trio to cautiously approach them.

'Fun as they are, you can't ever trust the twins not to have a prank up their sleeves...' Harry thought anxiously, though as the three of them pulled up their own chairs he was relieved that nothing had exploded, at least not yet. "So, who wants to drink with us?"

Harry's stomach churned at the invitation, but before he could open his mouth to decline Ron had swiped the bottle and taken a large swig before shoving it into his hands, "C'mon, Harry, it's not every day that we've got an excuse to drink without getting in trouble!" The redhead urged him, ignoring Hermione's exasperated sigh.

"That's right, Harry, for once Ron has the right idea!" George chimed in, nudging him until he finally gave in and brought the bottle to his lips. The liquor was smooth as it flowed into his mouth, though it immediately started burning once he swallowed it, making him cough and splutter as he handed off the bottle much to the amusement of everyone around the table.

"There ya go!" Charlie chuckled, slapping him on the back, "The first drink is always the worst one, it only gets better after that."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the scene playing out in front of her, flat out refusing to accept the bottle of firewhiskey from Bill, "You're all going to regret this in the morning, you know..." She muttered, though even she couldn't hide her amusement as Harry took another tentative sip of the burning alcohol.

"Smart as you are, Hermione, you still haven't figured out how to have fun in the moment." Fred slurred sagely, drawing another round of chuckles.

The bushy haired girl's eyes narrowed at the challenge, and for a moment Harry thought she would actually demand the bottle, instead she simply huffed and left the room for a moment before returning with a lovingly worn book. 'Yep, same old Hermione.' He thought with a relaxed grin as the liquor began to take effect. 'Oh wow, that's actually helping a little.'

The impromptu victory party continued on like that for nearly two hours, with new bottles of whiskey being produced by either Bill or Charlie whenever the last one would run out. At one point the boys had pooled together a few decks of exploding snap and had even convinced Hermione to join them again until Tonks pushed her way into the tent, followed closely by Mr. Weasley. While neither appeared to be particularly surprised or concerned about the scene they'd found, Harry nonetheless found himself being gently pulled away from the table by an amused Tonks.

"It was nice seeing all of you again, Weasleys, but it's about time for Harry to start drying out." The metamorph announced to the tent, drawing a medley of disappointed groans from the group before gently taking Harry's arm and leading him outside. "Soooo, I see that you've been having fun."

Harry nodded back as he followed alongside her, far from stumbling but clearly lacking the graceful movements that he normally boasted, "I didn't mean to start drinking, but then I did." He murmured tiredly, letting the auror guide him through the crowded grounds.

"Well, at least it doesn't look like you over did it. That's the real key to drinking, knowing when to quit." Tonks told him sagely, before grinning wickedly, "Can't say it wouldn't be funny to see you cursing Merlin in the morning, though."

"Sorry to disappoint you, then." The auror rolled her eyes at the glib retort but before she could make a witty attack of her own Harry glanced over his shoulder curiously, "Oh...what did that French guy tell you? You and Mr. Weasley were gone for a while."

The pair of them slowed to a stop in front of their tent, Tonks struggling to find the right words while Harry's eyebrows furrowed suspiciously, "Look, Harry, I'm not really sure how to says this..."

A frustrated sigh escaped the younger wizard's lips, "Tonks, I can handle it, even if it's something bad. I thought you said you trusted me!"

Tonks felt her heart throb as her eyes met with his own shining emerald orbs, desperate to learn the truth, and before she could even properly think about what she was going to say words were already falling from her mouth, "I do trust you, Harry! It's not that I don't, I'm just not sure how to tell you what Sebastian was saying."

"Then stop thinking about it, just tell me!" He pleaded, feeling his stomach churn into knots again as he tried to think of a way to convince his friend to be honest. "I don't like secrets, Tonks, you know that."

Warmth blossomed within the metamorphmagus' chest at Harry's words and she found herself unable to look away from his beautiful form. Her attempts to tear her gaze away were made even more difficult by the struggle against her own will not to tell her friend what Sebastian had confided in her, until suddenly her eyes widened with realization and she snapped out of her dazed state to see the dark haired wizard staring at her with concern, "Blimey, he was right! Harry, I think you're-"

Harry held his breath in anticipation, but before Tonks could finish her sentence an explosion ripped through the night air, tearing both of them from the conversation, "What was that?" He asked uneasily, taking a half step towards the direction of the noise.

"Maybe it was a couple of drunks getting too excited with their fireworks?" She suggested, though from the look on her face the auror didn't believe her explanation any more than he did, and her concern only grew as somebody let out a scream that was quickly joined by nearly the entire camp. "Maybe we should go- Oh, Merlin..."

The source of the panic was made immediately obvious as a cluster of Death Eaters marched through the campgrounds behind the fleeing crowd, hurling out spells at the surrounding tents with glee. Harry's face drained of color at the sight of Voldemort's followers, and his stomach churned in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with his discomfort from earlier when he recognized the bloodied face of the muggle gatekeeper being floated in the air along with his terrified family. 'That's sick...those people never did anything to deserve this!' He thought furiously, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he caught sight of a little girl floating alongside her mother, her head hanging nauseatingly limp.

"-rry! Harry, listen to me!" Tonks' voice suddenly snapped him out of his angry daze, forcing him to look back to his equally angry and horrified friend, "Harry, I need you to get out of here! Get into the forest and find a place to hide, I've got to try and put a stop to this!"

Harry could feel his jaw set at her instructions, but before he could even open his mouth to argue the metamorphmagus had already taken off towards the dark wizards, leaving him scowling after her, "Like hell if I'm just gonna sit back while this is going on!" He muttered darkly, drawing his wand and casting a silent disillusion charm over himself. 'Wonderful...I bet that they're already writing up another misuse of magic letter for me. Sod it, let them try and argue that this isn't a reasonable time to use magic!'

With his mind made up, Harry took off in a similar direction as his auror friend. He'd long since lost track of her, and had given up any chance of finding her now that the Death Eaters had started to break up, having tossed the traumatized muggles to the ground in favor of terrorizing whoever had been stupid enough to stick around. 'Or rush into battle without a plan...' He thought ruefully, only to be torn from his thoughts by a loud shriek coming from behind a tent a few rows ahead of him.

"P-please just leave us alone! We've never done anything to you!" The dark haired wizard could hear somebody begging as he rounded the corner, only to find four cloaked men with their wands drawn on a young witch kneeling next to an unconscious wizard. "I-I'll do whatever you want, just please don't hurt us!"

An unsettling chuckle echoed around the group of Death Eaters at the blonde woman's words, "You hear that boys? She'll do whatever we want!" One of cloaked figures crowed mockingly before taking a menacing step towards her, "Well, you're right about that, girl. If you want that mudblood husband of yours to live, you're going to do exactly what we say..."

A furious scowl flashed across Harry's face at the apparent leader of the group's words while the terrified witch simply cowered in front of them, too terrified of what might happen should she try to run. "What do you think, Yaxley, should we show her how a real wizard treats a woman?" One of the other men asked, leering down at her through his mask.

"Oh, I think you know wha-" The leader, Yaxley apparently, started to say, but before he could finish his sentence Harry unleashed a silent bludgeoner at his head, sending the Death Eater flying off into a smouldering tent with a garbled cry of surprise.

The three remaining wizards stared at where their comrade had been standing in shock for a moment before quickly spinning and catching sight of Harry glaring defiantly at them, "How about you stop terrorizing that poor woman and act like decent fucking humans?" He snarled, the tip of his wand gleaming brightly as he stared them down.

"You bitch!" The closest of the three Death Eaters shouted out, catching Harry by surprise as he sprung into action and slung a twisted looking curse at him, "Get her for what she did to Yaxley, boys!"

Harry's eyes widened even further in disbelief as he threw himself down to the ground and rolled behind one of the tents to avoid the dark curse, 'Alright then, looks like we're playing for keeps!' he realized, not bothering to correct the man before casting a bone breaking curse in retaliation, catching him in the shoulder and tearing a scream from behind his mask. Rather than giving him any time to recover, the remaining men rushed forward to take their fallen ally's place. "If you drop your wands and leave now then I won't chase you!" The younger wizard shouted out to them, only to be forced out of his spot and back into the open as two more curses he didn't recognize rained down towards him.

"As if, girly! You've dug your grave, now just wait until we get our hands on you!"

An overpowered cutting curse flew from Harry's wand and gouged out a deep patch of dirt as the Death Eater he'd targeted narrowly dodged it, only to be sent flying by his banishing spell, temporarily taking him out of the fight. A pleased smile briefly flashed across Harry's face, though it was quickly wiped away when a twisting red piercing spell dug into his left shoulder and tore a shocked cry from his lips. "I told you that you would regret sticking your nose where it didn't belong!" The last uninjured dark wizard cackled before raising his wand again, a spell already on his lips.

"Ignis Flagellum!" Harry roared, wild fury burning in his eyes just as brightly as the fiery whip that erupted from the tip of his wand. The boy who lived took a bold step forward before any of the dark wizards could regroup and cracked his whip in retaliation, bringing the wizard who had attacked him to his knees with an agonized scream as fire coiled tightly around his wand arm. "How do you like it, bastards?!" He shouted out over the screams before releasing the wizard and allowing him to collapse to the ground in a whimpering mass while the crack of one of the injured Death Eaters disapparating echoed across the campground.

A brief moment of relative silence hovered over the smoking tents, and for a moment Harry thought that he might have actually chased the rest of Voldemort's followers off, only for a disemboweling curse to whiz past his ear. The dark haired wizard whirled back around to see the Death Eater he'd banished earlier advancing on him with a quivering arm, clearly warring between terror and fury at the display. Frustration washed through the younger wizard at his opponent's persistence before he let his flame whip lapse in favor of a spell with more range, "Ossis Fragmen!"

Another pained cry tore from behind the man's mask as his kneecap exploded, leaving him to fall unceremoniously to the ground while Harry stalked towards him, his left arm hanging at his side limply as he glared down at him, "Idiot...you should have ran like your friend." He snarled before kicking the man in the ribs.

A ragged laugh escaped the Death Eater as he shook his head, "Not as stupid as you, girl..."

"Unless you want another shattered knee you'd better shut up!" He spat back, raising his wand threateningly, but before he could even start to make good on his threat the searing pain of a thousand white hot knives exploded in his back, sending him crashing into the dirt with a gut-wrenching scream.

"Grab the girl before she gets away, McKelvey, I've got this one under control." A triumphant voice called out from behind Harry once the unbearable pain of the cruciatus curse had been cut off, leaving him gasping for breath while the injured Death Eater crawled over towards where the blonde witch was still frozen in terror next to her husband.

"N-no, please!"

"Stop struggling!" The handicapped man spat at her venomously before pressing the tip of his wand roughly into the side of her neck.

Harry grit his teeth at the situation and started to push himself up, only to collapse roughly against the ground and roll onto his back from after receiving a swift kick in the ribs from his own Death Eater. "It must be my lucky day...you know, I almost didn't recognize you, but here you are in the flesh - the famous Harry Potter! Did you think that you would be a hero, boy? Well, look where that got you...squirming in the dirt like the halfblood filth you are."

"Go to hell..."

The dark wizard standing over him laughed at his defiance, his dark eyes gleaming murderously behind his mask, "I heard you were brave, but nobody told me you were stupid too. If only the Dark Lord could see me now...the things I could do to you if only we had more time...but I'm sure the aurors are already on their way so I'll have to make this quick. Crucio!"

Blinding hot pain lit up in every nerve of Harry's body while he writhed under the effects of the torture curse, his struggling only serving to make the pain in his ruined shoulder flare up worse until finally the curse was lifted, "You know you're going to die, don't you? Of course, if you had your wand you might be able to get out of this situation, but..." A sudden feeling of ice cold dread filled the younger wizard's stomach as the dark figure above him dangled a familiar holly wand in front of his face, only to snap it in half before he could even try to summon it. "Oh...well, it seems like you don't have one. Looks like you're all out of lu-"

Before the Death Eater could finish his sentence a bright flash lit up the sky and drew his attention, along with a fresh round of screams that echoed around the campgrounds. The dark wizard seemed to be at a loss for words for a moment as he stared upwards and, despite Harry's better judgement, his own gaze followed. He could feel the pit in his stomach twist sickeningly around itself and heat up again at the unmistakable sight of the dark mark. 'As if this couldn't get any worse...'

A loud pop echoed out, tearing both of the men's eyes from the sky with the realization that the Death Eater with the shattered knee apparently decided it was time to leave, a decision that Yaxley seemed to agree with as he turned his wand hastily back onto Harry, its tip already glowing a sickly green. The sight of his impending death was enough to jerk Harry from his stupor and he lunged up towards the dark wizard, ignoring the prickling sensation that spread across his entire body. Instinctively he reached for his magic, letting it flow freely through his hands and into the terrified face of his attacker. "Avada Keda-aagh!"

A blood curdling scream tore from the masked man's lips as he stumbled backwards, desperately trying to put space between himself and the underage wizard to little success. The second that Harry recognized his opening he threw himself upon the robed figure in a blind rage, forcing more magic through his arms than he could ever remember channeling in the past. Finally, after several moments of chaotic struggling the Death Eater went limp and Harry collapsed backwards, his senses slowly returning to him while he stared blankly up at the serpent coiled within the skull. He could hear the crackling of fire near him and his nose wrinkled at the foul smell of something burning. 'Fire...shit. I did not survive through all that just to be roasted alive. Come on, Potter, you've got to move!'

With that thought in mind Harry forced himself to sit up, absently noting what looked like wilted feathers surrounding the dirt around him before suddenly catching sight of the blonde witch that he had been trying to protect rushing to his side in a panic. "A-are you alright?!"

A snort escaped him before he could hold it back, "Peachy..." He wheezed out sarcastically while casting a quick glance across the ruined campgrounds, he started to open his mouth again when several loud pops echoed around them. His eyes widened and he immediately reached for his wand before remembering that it had been snapped, instead he settled for wrapping his uninjured arm around the witch and pulling her down with him as crimson light illuminated the night, "Get down!"

Several stunners flew over the pair's heads until an authoritative voice managed to ring out over the sound of spell fire, "Cease fire! Cease fire!"

Harry peeked up from the ground, counting the seconds until finally letting go of the witch and pushing himself back up into a sitting position with a groan while two familiar figures accompanied by a team of blue cloaked witches and wizards closed in on them, "Harry?! Harry, are you alright?!"

Despite the pained grimace on his face, a sigh of relief escaped Harry's lips when Tonks' familiar form appeared alongside Kingsley's. "Relatively speaking." He muttered, offering them a pained smile before nodding at the witch, "Ah...you might want to check her out though. I'm not sure what they might have done to her or the wizard she was with before I got here."

Both aurors gave a start as they followed his nod, apparently seeing the witch for the first time, before seeming to remember that they weren't alone. Thankfully Shacklebolt looked to be regaining his senses as he moved to help the witch up, "I'll take care of her, you concentrate on him, Tonks. Weaver! Help me cordon off this area, the rest of you spread out to search for other survivors and neutralize any stragglers!"

A series of acknowledgements to the senior auror's commands echoed around the campsite, and before long Harry was left with just Tonks' concerned face, "Bloody hell, Harry...what happened here?" She asked, taking a moment to observe the smoking carnage of his battle, her eyes lingering for a few moments on what was left of the feathers scattered around him before settling back on him.

An exhausted frown tugged at Harry's lips, "Look, Tonks, I'm not trying to be rude but I think that's pretty self explanatory." He groaned, before sinking further down towards the ground as the reality of what he had done set in, "I...I think I killed one of them."

Tonks eyes flashed with pained sympathy at his admission, "Harry...that's not your fault, I doubt that they gave you a lot of choices." She reassured him, gingerly trying to avoid his injured shoulder as she pulled him into a hug, "It's going to be okay..."

Harry released a shuddering breath when the metamorphmagus embraced him and his shoulders shook violently as he did his level best to fight back the tears pooling behind his glasses. He opened his mouth to try and say something in reply, but all he could manage was another ragged breath. Instead, despite Tonks' continued attempts to comfort him, he simply stared up at the dark mark in the sky, unable to chase one simple thought from his head. 'She's wrong...this is how it all starts.'

Albus Dumbledore's wizened face was normally a comforting sight for Harry, today however it only served to bring home the seriousness of the previous night's events. "Harry, Madame Pomfrey tells me that you're well on the way to recovery, however I must ask how you're feeling."

The tired stare that met the headmaster's question was likely answer enough, though it clearly wasn't what he was hoping for, "I'm still sore, professor, but I'm okay." He sighed, wincing as he put more weight on his still healing shoulder in order to sit up properly. "Actually, if I'm being honest, I'd be doing better if I could walk around." The fact that just sitting in bed was giving him too much time to think about last night's attack went unsaid.

"Absolutely not, Mister Potter! You're lucky that you don't have any nerve damage, never mind the residual effects of that awful curse!" Madame Pomfrey retorted strictly from his side, drawing a frustrated look from the teenager.

Dumbledore eyed Harry carefully for a few moments before turning his gaze towards the matronly witch with a soft smile, "Poppy, normally I am loathe to rid you of your patients before you're ready, however this is a unique circumstance. If we had any time to spare then I would bow to your superior wisdom."

Harry perked up slightly at his mentor's words, suppressing another wince, "Oh no, Albus! Surely you aren't going to-"

"I'm afraid that I have no choice, Poppy. As I said, our time is limited and there is much that we must do. As much as it pains me to do so, Harry will simply have to endure his discomfort for today." A crestfallen look dominated the school nurse's face even as Harry swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"Are we still going to Diagon Alley, sir?" Harry asked, looking hopefully at the headmaster.

"We are, Harry. While the timing of this attack was unfortunate, it doesn't change the fact that you need your school supplies, among other things. It's also of absolute importance that you acquire a new wand." Dumbledore paused for a moment as his pupil's face wilted, turning to look at the charred remains of his holly and pheonix feather wand. "I realize how painful it is to have your wand stolen from you, Harry, but I'm certain that Ollivander will be able to craft a suitable replacement for you."

Surprise and doubt warred on Harry's face at his mentor's words, "I thought that the wand always chose the wizard...how could he make one just for me?"

Dumbledore chuckled at the question, somewhat defusing the tension that had still hung in the air, "As much as it pains me to admit it, Harry, there are still many fascinating areas of magic where my knowledge is limited, and this happens to be one of them, though I'm sure that Ollivander could answer your questions when you see him. Suffice it to say, I have confidence that he will be willing to take on the challenge."

"If you say so, sir..." The younger wizard replied, considerably less sure of that fact than his mentor, "Is there anything else that we'll need to do while we're there, other than just getting my school supplies?"

"That would depend on you, Harry. I have little business to attend to today, though I daresay it is past time for you to replace your wardrobe." The headmaster's eyes twinkled brightly while Harry glanced over to the ragged hand me downs folded at the end of his bed, "How one dresses affects the way they're perceived, for better or for worse, and while the world may not know that you're my apprentice, one can never start preparing for their role too early."

'Just what I need, another reason for people to pay attention to me. Still...I guess the old man's right, if people are going to be watching me anyways I should at least look decent. Besides, wearing Dudley's old clothes is miserable, if I can get out of them then I should.' Harry thought, shifting uncomfortably before finally sighing and nodding reluctantly. "Alright, I guess we can stop by Madame Malkin's or something."

"An excellent suggestion, Harry." Dumbledore beamed, as if it wasn't his idea to begin with, before standing and gesturing towards his clothes, "I'm afraid that I must fetch a number of items from my office before we depart. Once you've dressed yourself, meet me by the great hall and we will venture forth together. Poppy, I hope that you have a wonderful afternoon."

Diagon Alley had always been one of Harry's favorite places in the magical world, his trip with Hagrid had been his first exposure to wizarding society and the memory of it remained one of his most vibrant experiences. The sight that met him as Dumbledore led the way through the alley could not have been more different from what he expected. The normally bright storefronts were plastered with Daily Prophet headlines detailing the attack on the World Cup and the atmosphere was significantly heavier, with the few groups of people that had dared to venture out today huddled together and moving quickly from shop to shop.

'Normally I'd be thrilled not to have everybody staring at me...hell, I've got Albus Dumbledore walking next to me and barely anybody is pointing at us. But this...was this what it was like during the war?' Harry frowned deeply as he watched the terrified crowds, 'If this is their first instinct, there's no way they'll be ready if Voldemort comes back.'

"It is difficult to be brave in the face of an enemy as powerful as that of Tom's followers, Harry." Dumbledore sighed, catching Harry by surprise as he turned to look up at him, "You have faced him before, you know that as powerful as he is he can be defeated. But for the many that lost loved ones to Death Eater raids, to experience such an attack at the World Cup after so long will inevitably bring back the terror of the war."

Harry's frown only set in deeper at his mentor's explanation and he shook his head, "I don't blame them for being scared, Professor. They'd be stupid not to be, but this..." He paused as a young girl caught his eyes and briefly stared at him in wonder before being ushered along by her anxious mother, "None of this does anything to help anybody."

A sad smile tugged at the headmaster's wrinkled mouth, "It doesn't, but it is all they know how to do for now. That is why it is so important that you be ready when the time comes that they need you. By the very nature of your relationship with Tom the people will look to you for courage and guidance. With luck, though, that will not be for some time."

The now familiar feeling of his stomach tying itself in knots returned, accompanied by a cold dread as Harry realized what the older wizard was telling him. He followed along in silence for a few minutes as he processed the fact that the wizarding world would be looking to him, not Dumbledore, to inspire them. He had accepted the fact that it was his responsibility to face Voldemort, but to have the hopes of so many weighing on his shoulders was a different responsibility altogether. Before he could find the words to express his emotions the pair came to a slow halt, forcing him to look up numbly at Ollivander's Wand Emporium. It was the only storefront on the street that seemed to be devoid of the Dark Mark twisting in the skies over the campgrounds and for that, at least, he was grateful.

"Ah...just the same as it was the last time I visited." Dumbledore mused cheerfully, seemingly unaware of the thoughts running through his apprentice's head before reaching out and opening the door, "After you, Harry."

Apprehension briefly flared up in Harry's chest at the thought of having to tell the wandmaker about the loss of his most precious possession, barring the possible exception of his parents' heirlooms and the Firebolt Sirius had sent him. Taking a deep breath he pushed his nervousness down stubbornly and opened the door. The moment he stepped inside he was assaulted with the realization that the shop really hadn't changed one bit since his first year, including the eccentric wandmaker that seemed to materialize from behind the shelves of wands, "Ah, Albus, it's always a pleasure to see you again."

The headmaster nodded with a smile, "And the same to you, Garrick, returning to your workshop always invites a trip down memory lane."

"No doubt, Albus, and I see that you still possess your wand. Remarkable, quite remarkable."

"It has served me well for many years, and I can only hope that it continues to do so for many more." The elder wizard replied airily, though Harry noted that the twinkle behind his half-moon spectacles had ceased at the mention of his wand, "However, as fond as I am of reliving old memories, Harry and I are here for the appointment I discussed with you earlier this week."

Ollivander slowly turned his eyes onto Harry as he was mentioned, curiosity growing in his eyes, "Mister Potter...holly, eleven inches, with a pheonix feather core. Tell me, how has your wand fared you? I was absolutely certain that you and your wand had a perfect match, the best that I've seen in many years. Why do you desire a new one?"

The perceptive gaze of the wandmaker only added to Harry's discomfort as he slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out the charred remains of his wand, "I'm sorry, Mister Ollivander, it was broken at the World Cup." He muttered, struggling to meet the older man's eyes as he gazed with sorrow at the destruction of his work.

"That is...unfortunate, but it certainly explains your presence. I must admit, I'm unsure whether or not I will be able to find another wand that would fit you quite as well as this one. It and its brother were quite unique."

Harry grimaced at his words, though before he could even formulate a response Dumbledore had stepped forward again, "While I understand your grief, Garrick, I believe that this may actually present an opportunity for growth on Harry's part, while offering something of a challenge to you."

The headmaster's words prompted the wandmaker to raise a quizzical eyebrow, "If you are suggesting what I think you are, then I feel that I must inform you that, as much as I value your friendship, I have quite a backlog of requests to work through. It would take something quite extraordinary to convince me to take on a commission."

"Harry...flip the sign to the closed position, if you would. Join me once you have finished with that." Dumbledore directed pleasantly, drawing an annoyed look from the shop owner though nodded his permission to the younger wizard as he let out an annoyed sigh.

Harry felt some of that same annoyance sink into him as he followed his mentor's instructions, 'It would be nice if he would let me know what he was planning...I don't understand why he insists on springing stuff like this at the last moment.' He thought with frustration, before returning to the headmaster's side. "What's going on, Professor?"

"I would like to know that as well, Albus. I do not have much time to spend with consultations."

"Simply humor me, old friend, I promise that it will be worth your time." Dumbledore answered brightly as he reached into the interior pocket of his robes and produced a black box, which he promptly presented to Ollivander, "There is another one of those where that came from, all I ask is that you test whether Harry would be compatible with that one. If he isn't then they're both yours, if he is...well, do you truly wish to pass up this opportunity to craft such a suitable wand?"

Harry simply watched in frustrated confusion as Ollivander opened the box, only to pale as he recognized the ivory fang within it, while the wandmaker took a deep breath, "How on Earth did you come across this? And you say you have another?!"

"I cannot claim responsibility for attaining it. All of that work was performed by Harry himself, he was the one that slew the beast. By all rights its remains belong to him, however given that the corpse rests beneath Hogwarts, I do hope that you will not take offense to me offering Garrick a portion of that prize, Harry."

"I don't even know what I could do with it, Professor. You're welcome to have it all..." The younger wizard replied dryly, a dull ache developing in his arm as he tried to tear his eyes away from the basilisk fang.

"Very generous, but it is yours. If you wish then I will help you to find an appropriate use for it. But I digress, this is a discussion for a later time. Do you agree to my terms, Garrick?"

The wand maker gazed critically at the fang for several seconds before slowly nodding, "Very well, I will craft the finest wand I possibly can for the young Mister Potter in exchange for the basilisk fangs." He finally agreed, still clearly skeptical that he would be using either in the project.

"Excellent! In that case, I suggest that we move forward with finding the proper materials." Dumbledore replied cheerfully, drawing another critical eye from Ollivander along with a frustrated sigh from his protege. "Just follow Garrick's instructions, Harry. I'm certain that your wand will suit you well, regardless of its core."

"It would help if I knew what I was even supposed to do." Harry muttered dryly, before turning his attention fully towards Ollivander as the older man let out a soft hum.

"Simply hold your hand over the fang, Mister Potter. You needn't touch it." The wandmaker explained, holding the dark box towards him with a somewhat muted interest, "I will know right away whether or not it would make a suitable core for you."

Harry quirked a somewhat skeptical eyebrow of his own at the the instructions, but thought better of arguing against the master craftsman. Slowly, with no small amount of trepidation, he extended his hand out towards the gleaming fang. 'Is that the same one that I used to destroy the journal? It looks like it still has ink on it.' He mused, only to blink in surprise as his senses were overwhelmed by a wave of stifling terror, he almost snatched his hand away from the tooth but instead reached down and grasped it as an intense determination and power replaced the fear and seemed to coil itself around his body.

"Fascinating...truly fascinating. To think that you would be so well suited to such a component when your first wand held this creature's natural adversary! Albus, how did you know?"

Dumbledore simply offered an enigmatic smile at the question, "Ah, it was curiosity more than knowledge on my part. I had no way of knowing for sure whether it would work, but I thought it might be worth examining given the history of the specimen."

Ollivander shook his head, clearly not buying the explanation, but turned his attention back to Harry with a revitalized interest, "Regardless, it would appear that my initial measure of you was correct, Mister Potter." He beamed before setting the box to the side and turning to head behind the counter, "Now, if you will follow closely, we will determine the wood for your wand. Many are mistaken in the belief that the core is the only aspect that determines a wand's personality, the wood plays nearly as large a roll in what kind of wizard it will choose. Please, do not touch anything on our way back."

Harry had to consciously stop himself from rolling his eyes at the request, having long learned not to touch unidentified magical objects. Despite his silent objection he obeyed, trailing just a few steps behind the odd wizard as he led them behind a curtain. Stepping into the back of the wand shop, Harry's eyes widened in amazement at a seemingly endless collection of magical ingredients in jars, bottles, and crates. Before he could get too curious about the exact contents hidden away they came to a stop at a long table stacked high with boxes of wood. "All of this is for wands?"

"Indeed, Mister Potter, I receive many requests and I am quite dedicated to my craft." The wandmaker replied with a proud smile as he looked him up and down before digging into several of the boxes and setting out several blocks of wood in a line on the table. "These are the woods that I most suspect will be a proper fit for your core. Examine each of them as you wish, feel free to pick them up and feel them, if none of them suit you then we will move on. Don't be afraid to say something if you have a question, or if you feel something pulling at your magic."

"How will I know if one is right?"

"You will know...when you find the right piece then it will resonate within you. Even if you don't realize it, I will likely be able to identify it." The older wizard explained, glancing behind the student to see Dumbledore gazing about his workshop with idle curiosity. "I don't suppose that you have any more rare materials to offer up for consideration?"

The headmaster shook his head with a genial smile, "Not as of now, old friend. Though I am interested in seeing what transpires here."

Ollivander nodded in agreement while Harry took a small step forward, ignoring the continued conversation between the two old men in favor of examining the blocks of wood set before him. The first was a dark color with knots twisting its form, out of all the options in front of him it looked the most like it was alive, but as he picked it up he felt no connection at all, in fact it seemed to be more dead than anything else he'd ever touched in his life. He set it down with a frown and moved on to the next, only to drop it immediately as a bitter cold rushed through him, causing him to shiver.

"Hmm...curious. You should not react so negatively to holly given your previous wand. What has changed, I wonder..." He heard Ollivander mutter from behind him, and he had to clench his teeth as he was reminded of his own questions regarding the changes he seemed to be going through before shaking his head and moving on.

He passed over several more blocks, each seemingly unsuited to him as he was subjected to discomfort with every touch. There was a brief moment with a piece of wood that was pitch black where he thought he might have found the right one, but before Ollivander could confirm it the comforting embrace turned into a strangling grip and the wandmaker had to rip it from his client's hands, "It would appear that ebony is not for you either."

By the time that Harry reached the final option frustration had well and truly set in, and as he reluctantly picked the white wood up he was resigned to having to start over again, only for his eyes to widen as inspiration surged through him. A thirst for justice, adventure, and compassion swelled in his mind for a moment before seeming to settle into a contented feeling, and he couldn't help but marvel at the block as he turned it over in his hands. "This is it...I know it." He grinned, turning to look back at the two older wizards, both of whom were watching him with interest.

"I am in inclined to agree, Mister Potter. You never cease to impress...I wouldn't normally consider aspen to be an appropriate match for a Basilisk core, though upon further reflection it does seem that it would suit you well. Many with aspen wands are adventurers and revolutionaries, not to mention formidable warriors." Ollivander paused thoughtfully before stepping forward and gently taking the wood from Harry's hands, "Your wand should prove quite an intriguing challenge to craft."

"I'm certain that you will be able to rise above, Garrick, you have never failed to impress." Dumbledore chimed in encouragingly before turning his gaze back towards Harry, "Do you have anything else for Harry to select? If not then I'm afraid that we must be moving on, there is still much that remains to be done."

"No, I have everything I need for now. I will begin preparing immediately to work through the night, I should be finished by tomorrow and have it ready for Mister Potter. Normally a commission of this quality would be somewhat costly, but the other fang should be more than compensation enough." The wandmaker replied, seeming to lose himself somewhat in excitement for his new project.

Dumbledore settled a hand softly on his student's shoulder, gently leading Harry towards the door again, "Very well, I will have Fawkes deliver your payment this evening, and Harry will return tomorrow with an associate of mine."

Ollivander nodded distractedly as he waved them out, "Yes, yes, Albus, now let me work! Flip the sign back to open on your way out."

The bright afternoon light assaulted Harry's eyes as they stepped outside, and it took him a moment to adjust after being in the dim store for so long, "Well, I would wager that was time well spent, Harry." Dumbledore offered brightly, seemingly slipping into his own thoughts for a moment before taking off down the alley at a pace that belied his age.

"I didn't expect it to take so long, though." Harry replied quietly, only to blink as he realized that he had to run to catch up to his mentor, "Ah...where are we going now, Professor?"

"To Madam Malkin's, Harry, though I dare say it should take significantly less time for her to fit you for your new wardrobe."

A soft groan escaped his lips at the thought of being prodded and measured for hours on end, before he simply sighed and accepted his fate as he remembered what Dumbledore had told him earlier. Thankfully, despite his misgivings about the subdued atmosphere surrounding the alley, he found the seamstress' store to be nearly empty, affording him both privacy and the attention of Madam Malkin herself. At her direction Harry was made to model several of her lines and, while he would be loathe to admit it, found himself grudgingly approving of her judgment.

It didn't stop him from initially protesting as she shoved set after set of clothes into his hands, some formfitting, others airy, one of the dress robes she had him try on looked like a suit, but many of the others treaded the line of being a full blown dresses. While Harry put up a front of disliking the latter options he was secretly thrilled at the seamstress' assurances that they all fit him wonderfully. Meanwhile Dumbledore simply sat in the corner, watching on with amusement until they neared the end of his fitting.

"Ah, Madam, if I may make one more request, Hogwarts is considering reopening its dueling club this year." The headmaster began, offering the shop owner one of his sparkling smiles, "I was hoping that you would do me the favor of fitting young Harry here for a proper dueling robe, one that is appropriately protective while similarly stylish."

Harry stared at his mentor in frustrated despair, his eyes showcasing the betrayal he felt as Madam Malkin practically leapt at the opportunity to have him continue modeling for her, "Absolutely, Headmaster, we don't sell many of those except to aurors these days, but...I think I know just the thing!" With that she bustled off to the back, giving the younger wizard a moment to breath as he rested his hands on his hips, still wearing the latest set of muggle clothing he'd been forced into.

"Sir, with all due respect, I'm getting tired of the surprises. Couldn't you have said something about this earlier?" Harry asked tiredly.

Dumbledore simply chuckled, drawing a rebellious glare from his apprentice, before clasping his hands together across his knee, "I apologize, Harry, I assure you that there will be no more surprises today beyond this. If you have no objections then I will commission whatever robe you choose from a portion of the Basilisk hide, it would serve you well to own such a powerful defense should you need it."

The dark haired wizard sighed tiredly and pinched the bridge of his nose as he nodded, "Alright, Professor, but if it's alright with you then once this is done I'd like to just get something to eat and finish school shopping."

The older wizard opened his hands in an accommodating gesture, "As you wish, I have no more plans to spring on you this afternoon. Once we have finished in Diagon Alley we will ensure that you have all of your belongings and return you to your relatives." He replied softly, only to smile brightly as the seamstress reappeared from the back of the store, "Oh? This is interesting, I've not seen a style like this before."

Madam Malkin beamed at Dumbledore's words as she showed off a black leather tunic with green accents woven into it, along with similarly woven pants and a pair of shockingly high-legged boots with runed medallions. "Thank you, Professor, this is the first of a new line that I've been working on for some time, I've been considering calling it the Le Fay collection." She explained, before ushering Harry into the changing room again, this time accompanying him to ensure it fit properly. Immediately Harry found himself awash in discomfort as he stripped off his muggle clothing in front of the witch, trying to ignore her shocked face as he peeled away his shirt, "Oh my! I didn't realize that you were...well, I imagine that's the point isn't it?" She asked, drawing a very confused stare from her customer.

"I...what?"

Madam Malkin nodded to his slightly swollen chest, leading him to cover it self consciously only to hiss as the pressure only increased the ache within them, "Your breasts, dear, come now there's nothing to be ashamed of. I just thought Harry Potter was...well, never mind. Here let me take your measurements again and I'll get you fitted for a bra as well."

A bright red streak burned across Harry's cheeks as he quickly shook his head, "W-wait, no! I mean, I am a boy, it's just swollen because of the cruciatus curse!" He quickly explained, drawing a simultaneously skeptical and horrified look from the seamstress.

"When were you subjected to that awful curse?!" She asked urgently, though with the memory of the world cup fresh in her mind she seemed to put the puzzle together on her own, "Oh...well, I see. Still, I've never heard of such effects from the curse."

The boy who lived vehemently shook his head, "I-I'm sure it'll go back down soon..."

A sympathetic expression spread across the witch's face as she seemed to realize that he was dead set in his denial, "Very well, dear, if you're certain they'll go away then I won't push you. I'm afraid I am still going to have to measure you again to ensure a proper fit for the robes, however, so if you will hold your arms up..."

Several minutes later found Harry and Madam Malkin stepping back out of the changing booth, the wizard's face still flushed brightly as the shop owner followed him out, "You're a great sport, Mister Potter, I appreciate that you've been so patient with me."

The younger wizard forced a small smile onto his face, despite his embarrassment, "I don't really like being put on display like this, but...well, it's for a good cause, I guess." He muttered, drawing a laugh from the woman before she turned him around to face both the mirror and Dumbledore.

"You're a doll, Harry. But it really does look great on you, it brings out your eyes perfectly!" She gushed, forcing him to look himself up and down in the outfit.

The tunic actually did fit him fairly well, it made him look simultaneously formidable and desirable, fitting his newly developed curves even better than most of the clothes that he'd been forced into earlier that same day. 'Though the fact that I even have curves is still a little disconcerting. Maybe she's- no I know who I am...right?' He considered the question for a moment before shaking his head in favor of carefully stretching his uninjured arm over his head to make sure that it wasn't too tight for him to move around in. "Actually, yeah...I do like it a lot." He finally admitted, much to Malkin's delight.

"Excellent, then I'll get it rung up for you! Would you like to wea-" She started, only for Dumbledore to interrupt before she could finish.

"Actually, Madam, I was hoping that I could discuss a custom order of the tunic for Harry. I assure you, it is not for a lack of craftsmanship on your part, simply a request for specific materials. In fact, if we could have three made up by you, that would be excellent. I can have the materials needed for your work delivered later this afternoon if you are up to it."

The surprise that flashed across the seamstress' face acted as an effective distraction for Harry as he returned to the dressing room and slipped back into the set of muggle clothing he'd been wearing earlier, making sure to grab the tags to give to the witch. By the time that he'd finished changing Dumbledore had apparently negotiated the finer points of the commission with her and he found himself digging out at least half of the galleons in his coin purse to pay for his new clothes. 'Well...it was expensive and embarrassing, but I think it was definitely worth it in the end.'

As soon as he'd finished paying for his items Dumbledore shrunk them down and deposited them in one of the many pockets peppering his robes before leading the way back outside, "Madam Malkin has agreed to tailor the tunics and boots for you, Harry, though I'm afraid it may take somewhat longer than I expected. She said that she would have them delivered to you at Hogwarts whenever they're ready. Now, I believe that I promised you lunch once you had a new wardrobe. Why don't you lead the way from here?"