They had once called him a genius. A shinobi of unparalleled skill, a traitorous ninja. His very name synonymous with slaughter and invoking feelings of anger. What they had failed to realise was above all those factors, he had been a child.
He might have had the mental thought process of a hokage at a very young age, but having that tiring mind set and using the knowledge it provided were two very different things.
Watching the prominent effect his name had on the occupants of the Leaky Cauldron raised the hairs on his arms.
People rose, chairs scraped and toasts were exchanged. The vanquisher of Voldemort had finally come to the wizarding world, and their bated breaths and eager expressions frightened him.
He had come to the realisation that this was the outcome the Headmaster had wanted. His phrasing of the word 'vanish' and not 'dead' meant that this Dark Lord would be back. The Dark Lord who had deprived him of a mother and father.
Looking at his aunt who was trying her hardest to keep the baying crowd from molesting him, he didn't regret being raised by her. She had treated him as if he was her own.
Thinking of the Dark Lord and his foreseen resurrection, he knew his family would be in trouble. The best way to get to someone was through their loved ones. You didn't need to be a ninja to come to that conclusion.
He sighed inaudibly. It always fell to him to rectify the mistakes of others. He would have to step into the sandals of clan killer Uchiha Itachi once more. And end the threats to his family before they arose.
Sasuke unfortunately would have to wait.
Red eyes spun with a hidden clarity belying the turmoil residing within before reverting to green. Nobody none the wiser.
Nobody except a pale young man, sitting by the counter. Hands shaking as he took a sip of his firewhisky shot. 'So, that's Potter.' His eyes didn't leave the boy saviour till he was out of sight.
Harry and company reached the portal to Diagon Ally without any more trouble.
It was when the family walked closer to Gringotts did trouble occur.
Dudley having never been to Diagon Alley gave the appropriate response to seeing the bank, in all its white, shining glory. His hand gripped on Harry's wrist tighter, as he explained what he was seeing.
Dudley quietened down when he saw just beyond the scope of the burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold was-
"Dudley dear, you're staring and they don't like it." Admonished Petunia, as if she spoke from experience.
Harry had never heard such disparaging words escape his aunt's lips. His sharingan activated in response, the tomoe spinning with impertinence. They catalogued the world in a matter of milliseconds. From the goblins description to the words engraved intimately onto the doors.
His aunt was on edge, that was evident. Her squared shoulders, tightening of the eyes, and pursed lips.
His eyes turned a murky green as he let the Sharingan deactivate. They entered the vast marble hall, where they were led to a counter by a pair of bowing goblins.
"My nephew's vault key." Petunia said in icy tones as she handed the tiny, golden key over to the diminutive being, taking care that her hand didn't touch it.
She might have been tolerant of her adopted son's magic but that didn't mean she was able to let all of her discriminations go. Especially with how the goblins had treated her the first time she'd entered this bank with her parents and sister.
The goblin turned the key over in its palm, before thrusting it back into her arms. A look of extreme contempt briefly washing over its face.
"Griphook, take the wizard and his family to his vault."
And so, they followed the diminutive being across the tunnels of Gringotts, Dudley leading him and explaining their surroundings as best he could, aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon trudged behind them, deep in conversation, as if unhappy about something.
He had expected to see more marble, but as their goblin guide held the door open for them, Dudley gave him a sharp tug, as the surroundings changed to narrow stone pathways, lit with emerald braziers. It sloped steeply downward and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks toward them.
It seemed small but once all of them were situated inside, it seemed to accommodate their sizes, thankfully this meant Dudley and Vernon were sitting comfortably. They had just sat down, before the cart lurched into speed.
The cart didn't seem to follow the rules of motion as it twisted, up, down, left, right. He heard his cousin beside him let out a girly scream as the very air became hot, his whispered 'dragon' went unheard by his parents.
Just as fast the cart had moved, it came to a sudden stop.
Griphook doesn't wait for their recuperation, his small legs hobbling away from the cart, they dutifully followed after him till he reached a small door in the crevice of a passageway.
"Key." He looked back at Petunia, hand outstretched.
Fishing it out of her handbag, Petunia handed it over. Griphook wasting no time in unlocking the door.
He didn't expect this. From his aunt's exhalation, neither did she.
The vault was barren. Not an iota of currency could be seen within.
Griphook's grin was telling alone.
"What have you vile creatures done with the gold!?"
"Do you really think the boy's parents would give him unfettered access to the Potter family coffers? I think not." Griphook gave a gnarly laugh as if expecting such stupidity.
"Where is my nephew's gold then?"
"In Sirius Blacks vault." The laughter increased in volume, sharp teeth bared for the Dursley's and Harry to see.
Petunia sucked a harsh breath as if she'd been struck, she stared at her nephew in alarm before glaring at the goblin.
"Why does he have the gold?"
"James Potter provided a power of attorney letter, giving Black influence over all financial and legal matters. As the boys godfather the letter is magically binding. Unfortunately, as he's no longer apart of the Black family, the vaults are held in stasis."
"What does that mean for my nephew's gold?"
"It means he's penniless." Griphook had the temerity to laugh anew. Deep chuckles reverberating around the cavern.
The laughter echoed in his head, all through the cart ride back to surface level and even when faced with another goblin teller.
"Fifty pounds for a single gold coin? That's utterly absurd!" Uncle Vernon was incensed, face cycling through different hues of colours and hands balled into fists.
His anger was ignored, for goblins were above such trivial outbursts of fury, no matter how justified. Just as it would have gotten physical, Petunia withdrew crisp fifty pound notes from her handbag and handed them over to the greedy banker.
A small, weathered money pouch was thrown without a care. "Next!"
They left the bank with as much dignity that they could muster. Harry's thoughts churning at the slight. He was never one to just forgive and forget.
The gold galleons that they had were limited, and with how much a wand would cost, Petunia insisted they buy everything else second hand.
The three set of plain black work robes that were purchased were tattered and littered with holes, even with assurances from the sales witch that a 'good ol' repairing charm would make it as right as rain' failed to convince them.
The course books were gloriously outdated. Pages ripped out and some even had stains on the side. Dudley wrinkling his nose and saying it smelled like pee, certainly did nothing but aggregate Uncle Vernon and upset Aunt Petunia.
The cauldron they ended up purchasing was cracked, and much to Aunt Petunia's consternation they couldn't afford to buy the crystal phials, telescope set nor brass scales. The intelligent looking owl that Harry had been looking at was brought by an over ecstatic bushy haired girl.
The last shop they entered was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. When asked why they couldn't just buy him a second-hand wand, Petunia had cryptically stated 'the wand chooses the wizard."
A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, a silence emanating from every orifice. He could feel the blanket of secret magic prickling the back of his neck, in response he activated the sharingan.
"Good afternoon," said a soft voice.
Dudley jumped, Uncle Vernon swore and Aunt Petunia was unperturbed as if expecting something of the sort to happen.
An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.
He turned to look at his general direction, illusion already coiled around his eyes to keep the bloodline lurking within from being discovered. "Hello, Mr Ollivander I presume?"
"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harry Potter." It wasn't a question. "You had your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."
Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. The sharingan catalogued everything, but even he could admit those unblinking silvery eyes were a bit creepy.
"Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it - it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."
Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.
"And that's where..."
Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead with a long, white finger. As his finger reached his skin, the illusion restraining his sharingan snapped, leaving it bare for the man to see.
"Ah, so you've awakened it."
The world dissolved around Ollivander and Harry both, being washing away as if a dissatisfied painter had cleansed the world around them. A murder of crows coalesced around Ollivander restraining him thoroughly.
"Talk."
"The eyes of misery would always be reborn if the need was great. I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that brought misery upon you," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do..."
"Who else knows of my eyes?"
"There are telling signs for those who know where to look Mr Potter."
"Have they been reborn before?" Finding out the answer to this question was imperative if he was to see Sasuke again. Another Uchiha with the eternal mangekyō sharingan to guard the leaf village also wouldn't hurt.
"I'm not viable to answer Mr Potter." And much to his shock his illusion snapped. The world reoriented itself, and their feet were back on solid ground.
In Ollivanders hands was a sleek wand, its colour seemed to absorb all light shined upon it. "Here, a most unusual combination holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."
Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. It felt clunky and out of place. He was used to relying on nothing but himself, a crutch like this would be hazardous for his ninja training. 'Another thing to work on,' he thought.
The wand was taken from him and placed back into its packaging. Ollivander murmuring "Curious." Was as subtle as he was blind.
"What's curious?"
Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare.
"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather - just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother why, its brother gave you that scar."
It was ironic, if people were wands then he would be Yew and Sasuke would've been Holly. He nodded in response to Ollivander's words.
"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter... After all, He Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible, yes, but great."
He paid seven gold Galleons for his wand, and Mr. Ollivander bowed them from his shop. The wince Uncle Vernon made as the money exchanged hands didn't remain unnoticed.
His mind churned with thoughts. Each interaction he had so far with the magical world cemented the fact that this so called Dark Lord would make a return.
Great things? These people didn't know half of what he had done as a ninja. The time would soon come when he'd educate them.
AN:
Next chapter will have the train ride to Hogwarts, and the well anticipated sorting.
Some of you have been PMing me about the pairings, now, Itachi doesn't seem like the type of person to get with anyone from the HP world. This however is something I'll leave up to interpretation.
Any questions? Review them,
Please review, favourite and follow! I appreciate them all.
Please review! With strawberries and whipped cream on top.
Till next time.