I thank you all very much for the many reviews you left behind.
The mistake with the yet and jet should not reoccure in this chapter.
You'll find that I had to smooth out some of Rowlings inconsistancies in this chapter. I'll tell you straight ahead, that I went with the information shown in the last movie. I specifically had to look that up as I have only ever seen the first three. I was disapointed with the last of that and did not continue with the others. My personal marks, going by Hogwarts standarts would be an O for the first, an E for the second and the third would get an A. The others never came up to the A. Though, from what sniplets I've seen, Allan Rickman did an amazinglz good job at portraying Snape. Anyway, I'm rambling, so here's the next chapter:
Harry Potter, a Slytherin in Gryffindor
Chapter III: Many Meetings
Draco who had stood with his back to the door flinched. The man was apparently his father and his rather cold tone gave his son some sign of his not so evident displeasure.
"Father", he said but did not continue.
"I see, you have made a friend." It was worded as a statement but Harry could clearly see the raised eyebrow. This man was dangerous, that was what all his senses screamed. With this man he would definitely not be able to stay under the radar as he had with his son.
"This is my father, Lord and head of the noble house of Malfoy", Draco said towards Harry. Mr. Malfoy's eyebrow wandered a tiny bit higher. He was obviously perceptive enough to recognize that his son had yet to utter Harry's name.
"Lord Malfoy", Harry decided to rescue the other teen. "Your son and I were about to formally introduce ourselves." With this he stepped out completely behind Draco. The reaction he got from the older blond only confirmed his suspicion. The Malfoys were of a vastly different opinion than his parents had been, if not outright enemies. Malfoy's eyes lit up in recognition only to narrow and turn icy cold. Nevertheless, Harry steeled himself end made sure that he could also watch Draco as he continued, if only for the younger's shake.
"My name is Harrison James Potter."
Draco went slack jawed. And while his father scowled ever so slightly Harry's mouth corners twitched.
"You're catching flies, Draco."
"No way." Draco finally managed to catch himself. "There's no way they would allow you to grow up with Muggles." He practically spat out the last word. "Especially if they hate magic."
Malfoy senior's eyebrow found his way up again. Well, it seemed that he had not known that tidbit of information. He was listening intently and observing the two preteens, as far as Harry could tell.
To stop the inevitable rant that the younger was prepared to give, Harry just raised his hand. For the first time since they met he commanded authority in his voice. He focused on wanting to shut Draco up and then very clearly said but one word:
"Stop."
It worked. Harry felt a small rush through him and the next words that Draco spoke could only be seen but not heard.
"Impressive", commented Madam Malkin behind him.
"Draco, it was a civil war, as far as I understand it. And if it was anything like the wars the Muggles fought, it was a right mess." He shot a guarded look at the older Malfoy and continued. "Your father has lived though it and could probably tell you more about it, especially if a Lord in the magical world has a similar standing to the Lords in the Muggle world."
Draco who was still unable to say anything turned around to his father and started gesticulating. The older Malfoy appeared somewhat torn to Harry but he could not quite make out what it was.
"An intriguing deduction, you have made there, Mr. Potter." Well, Harry thought, whatever it was dislike was definitely amongst the top. "Would you care to elaborate and also to release my son from that wandless silencio?"
Now it was Harry's turn to look a bit uncomfortable if not sheepish. His cheeks turned slightly pink and he desperately fought the urge to scratch the back of his head.
"I apologize, I do not know what you mean by that, sir. The silencing effect usually vanishes after a maximum of three minutes." Malfoy senior just nodded to that so he took it as a sign to continue. "As for the title. In the Muggle world all of the Lords are somehow connected to politics. I was never overly interested but if that works the same in the Wizarding world, you would have connection to the Ministry and the law forming process." Well, that was at least partially a lie but in the long run it should be better for him to leave others ignorant of just how perceptive he was. Families like the Malfoys were dangerous enough as it was. It was safer to let them believe that neither did he understand politics, nor did he want to have a part in it. "I do not really know how that works, though, as I have always preferred science over politics. That means, the magical equivalent is Potions, I should think."
"There's nothing wrong with aiming to become a scholar", the older stated without confirming or denying anything he said.
Harry who had spied Hagrid at the window turned towards Draco again.
"I'll leave you to your shopping with your parents." Draco's still silent protest was stopped in its beginning. "The headmaster send Hagrid and I have little doubt that he'll be reporting back on how that went. He seems like a rather talkative fellow. I shall see, if I can find an owl and write, if that is all right."
Draco nodded and his father, too, gave his permission, even, if more hesitant.
"I shall see you on the train then."
"Mr. Potter, knowing Hagrid and the sieve he calls his brain, allow me to inform you that the entrance though Kings Cross is hidden behind a brick pillar, if you just walk though it."
"Thank you, Lord Malfoy", Harry replied. It was clear to him that the information was given only to make him thankful towards the man for being one of the first in this world to be helpful. For the other it was most likely about keeping appearances. He would not only be seen as someone helping orphan but the boy-who-lived. And with a last wave Harry left the shop.
As soon as the preteen had left the store he was assaulted by a large cage that was shoved into his hands. In it sat the beautiful snowy owl he had had his little staring match with earlier. The jewel-like eyes regarded him carefully and bored into him, as if to say what are you waiting for, a written invitation.
"Hagrid?"
"Happy birthday, Harry", the man just beamed and grind widely under his beard.
"Uh, thank you, Hagrid... you really didn't have to", was Harry's somewhat self-conscious answer. He had never gotten a birthday present, at least not for as long as he had lived with the Dursleys. Getting one now made him feel a little bit out of his depth, How was he supposed to reply.
"That beauty is a snowy owl. Thought yeh might like her. Saw yeh starin' at her earlier. Owls're dead useful fer deliverin' yer mail an all that", chuckled Hagrid and patted Harry on his shoulder with one of his large pranks that he had for hands. The gesture made Harry's knees buckle and jostled the cage which earned him an indignant shriek and Hagrid a reproachful look from the amber eyes.
"Sorry", Harry did not really know why he was apologizing to the owl but then she seemed far more perceptive than a normal animal and it somehow felt right. "Would your rather sit on my shoulder", he ask on a hunch. He had seen someone do that earlier and the little brown owl had not flown away, in fact it had appeared rather comfortable there.
She just stared at him and blinked slowly before hooting softly.
Harry took it as a yes, opened the cage and held his arm out so the owl could climb on it. With a tentative and very careful movement she set her claw on Harry's arm and took the first step towards becoming her new owners very first friend.
Moments later the trio made their way towards the shop that sold trunks and all kind of other bags. Harry had reasoned with the older man that it was much more practical to buy the trunk and a schoolbag first, so they could put his new belongings in there. It turned out to be one of the bigger shops in the ally. In fact it was a corner shop, which led into a much darker and dirty street.
"Hagrid, what's down there?"
"Better keep away from there, Harry. Nocturne Ally is a dangerous place, especially fer yeh."
Harry just nodded as they entered.
The shop was filled with all kinds and sizes of trunks, bags and briefcases. But it also had some, in Harry's opinion, very old fashioned backpacks that looked like gear for hiking back in the nineteen thirties. In an other part of the store Harry could make out round leather and cloth-covered tubes. At first he was not sure what they would be meant for but after a moment it kicked. The wizards still used parchment, which probably meant, that he would end up with a lot roles with no way of putting them into folders as the Muggles used. Of course it would made sense to store them in a different way.
The rather chatty clerk introduced himself as the many-times-great-grandson of Mr. Baggis who founded Baggis Baggage Bags. Soon enough Harry found out that trunk making was apparently a craft that was almost as old as wand making. There was an ongoing debate whether Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions or the Baggis Baggage Bags was there first. He also learned quite a bit about good quality and what to look out for when buying something of leather in the Wizarding world.
It all really started only because Hagrid had dragged Harry over to the standard Hogwarts trunks. Not that there was something wrong with them. They were, according to Mr. Baggis, of good quality for relatively small money. Unfortunately, or maybe not, Harry had just spoken a mite bit to loud.
"Hagrid, I don't think that the trunk will fit everything for all seven years. You saw what they were like. I can hardly leaf anything behind without having to worry if it'll still be there when I come back for summer holidays."
In the end, Harry had ended up with a five compartment trunk that had been slightly customized. It had a pair of pull-out wheels added to it, after Harry described how Muggle suitcases looked and worked. The second charm that was added was a Muggle repellant charm. This way there was close to no way that the Dursleys, or others, would look twice at the rather large trunk. A standard feather-light-charm was already on the trunk but after a bit or persuasion Harry agreed to have a shrinking and resizing charm added to it.
When Harry inquired about the round leather tubes Mr. Baggis almost laughed. Chuckling he explained that the bigger ones were actually wizard tents. They had tube-like containers for storing scrolls but what Harry had been able to see from his position in the shop was to big for that. So Mr. Baggis lead the confused eleven-year-old and an equally amused Hagrid over to one small set up tent. He invited Harry to have a look inside and moments later an amazed preteen emerged out again.
"This is amazing." Harry commented his trip. While the tent had not been furnished, it was clearly divided into rooms: a living room, a small kitchen, one bedroom and an adjourning bathroom.
"Are all magical tents like this?" Of course he had never been in a Muggle tent but applying logic dictated that it was no bigger than it looked from the outside. Dudley and his friends had wanted to camp out in the back yard once when they were smaller. Unfortunately the weather had taken a turn for the worse and ever since the tent, that his aunt and uncle had bought for this occasion, had collected dust in the attic. Otherwise, Harry would have most likely be the one who would have had to set it up.
This question spurted Mr. Baggis into giving another of his detailed explanations of how wizard tents where a status symbol. He did not seem to understand that a normal magical tent, going by the wizard standards, would stand out overly much with the Muggles. He complained about not being able to use his whole potential and creativity because the Ministry put a limit on what he was allowed to do. Apparently Mr. Weasley, head of the Ministry Department for Misuse of Muggle artifacts, came into his shop regularly just to check the Muggle conformity of his tents.
Nevertheless, Harry managed to purchase all he needed from the store within a relatively short amount of time. And when the salesclerk asked what name to put on the trunk, there was almost no stopping him after hearing Harry's name. He did not only put his name on the trunk but, and Harry found out about that only when he arrived in Hogwarts, he exchanged his simple, cotton covered parchment tubes into slightly more elaborate one and put his name along with the subject on it.
After that they went into the Apothecary, where Harry managed to get a bigger box that had enough space to hold all the different ingredients till fifth year. Though of course he only got the ingredients required for the first year curriculum. The apothecary was very helpful when he asked end even explained a tiny bit about shelf life of his supply.
As they were making their way towards Florean Fortescue's ice-cream parlor for a small brake. Harry took his chance and asked Hagrid if he knew his parents personally and what he knew about them. Having never had the chance of asking anyone about them, he had made up his own fantasies because he did not want to believe that what the Dursleys had told him was true. Now, however, he was finally able to let loose a whole stream of questions. How did they look like? What were they like? Did they have friends at school? Did they stay friends with them? Why did they never contact him? What did his parents do after school?
In the end it turned out that Hagrid had mostly known his father and not so much his mother. He wasn't a teacher but got to pull out his father of the Forbidden Forest more times than he cared to recall. His father had also been a bit of a trouble maker. And had been friends with Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, the later one was dead. Hagid did not mention Sirius Black but Harry had almost expected it when the other got a bit fidgety after his question about friends. However, Hagrid did tell him, that his mother was friends with his Potions Master Severus Snape until some time around the end of fifth year or the beginning of their sixth. He did not know what their fall out was about but, to Hagrid's knowledge, they never made up. The giant man could also tell him, that his parents best subjects. According to him Lily was very gifted in Charms and Potions while James preferred Transfiguration and was a good flyer.
When they passed Quality for Quidditch again on their way to get Harry's wand Harry overheard some of the children. They had gathered in front of the shop window and were looking at something that looked like a broom, though Harry could not begin to guess what that would mean.
"Hagrid, do wizards and witches use brooms for flying?"
"Sure do. Why're yea askin'?"
"Then, what's Quidditch?"
"Blimey, Harry, I keep forgettin' how little yer know – not knowin' about Quidditch!"
Harry bristled. It was most certainly not his fault. If there was anyone to point the finger at it would be the headmaster, that's if Hagrid told the truth when he said it was Dumbledore who had but him with the Dursleys. But with Hagrid being so devoted to that man there would be no way Harry could say that out loud.
"So, what is it then? I could see a broom in the shop window. Does it have to do with flying?"
"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like – like football in the Muggle world – everyone follows Quidditch. The broom yeh saw's new. Just came out. Quidditch's played in the air on broomsticks there's four balls an' the rules're sorta hard ter explain."
Ollivanders: Makers of fine wands since 382 BC, was a very cramped shop. The shelves reached up to the ceiling and were full of small long boxes. Some stuck out slightly. But most importantly, there was nothing that would give away any order, no sings at all, even though the tiny place felt a bit like a very old dusty library. No sound entered the shop even though the street was noisy and a bell had rung somewhere in the back upon their entrance. There was only one chair sanding at the front, which Hagrid sat down on. He seemed to expect a period of waiting.
A prickling on the back of his neck caused Harry to abruptly twirl around, only to come face to face with a pair of creepy pale silvery eyes.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter", said a soft, slightly amused voice, as Harry stumbled back a little. "I thought I'd be seeing you soon."
"Good afternoon, sir", replied Harry awkwardly as he caught himself.
"You have your mother's eyes. It seemed only yesterday that she was here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy and made of willow. Nice for charm work."
The old Mr. Ollivander moved back to the counter to pick up something that had laid on top of it.
"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's actually the wand that chooses the wizard."
Once again Mr. Ollivander had moved to stand very close to Harry. His right hand moved up and a long white finger touched the lightning scar on Harry's forehead.
"And that where... I'm sorry to say that I made and sold the wand that did it", he said softly regret thick and obvious in his voice. "Thirteen and a half inches, made of yew. A powerful wand, very much so and in the wrong hands... Had I known what that wand would cause..."
He shock his head sadly but seemed to pull himself out of his mood when he spotted Hagrid – much to Harry's relief who did not know what to make out of the man before him.
"Rubeus Hagrid. How nice to see you again... Oak, sixteen inches and rather bendy, wasn't it? But I suppose they snapped it when you got expelled."
Hagrid blushed under furiously under all his hair and Harry noticed his grip on the pink umbrella tightening
"Yes, sir", Hagrid replied, probably to both. "I've still got the pieces, though."
"But you don't use them", Ollivander asked now sharply.
"Oh, no, sir", Hagrid was quick to reply but Harry noticed the red deepening a tiny bit. It was good that he had already been red to begin with for he was a very bad liar. However, if Mr. Ollivander spotted it as well he did not call Hagrid on it. With a last pricing look towards the other man he turned back to Harry.
"Well, now, Mr. Potter, let me see. Which is your wand arm."
"I don't know. I am right-handed, though."
An answer which started his doom. At the beginning Harry could still take it with good humor. Mr. Ollivander explained a bit about wands while he measured and Harry got to throw in one or two questions about how to carry a wand with you and if something had to be done to take care of them. It got even funny when the magical measuring tape suddenly started to take the most random, if not strange, measurements, flying around wildly while doing so. At one point it even took distance between his nostrils but also startled the white owl on his shoulder awake who got a hold of that annoying thing in one of her talons and was just about to introduce it to her beak when Mr. Ollivander, with a stack of wand boxes in hand, reappeared behind one of the shelves and summoned it away from hear. After that the fun ended. Harry did not know how many wands he had tried. But the more annoyed he got the happier Mr. Ollivander seemed to get. It did not even seem to matter that Harry, while trying out the different wands, slowly demolished the store. The old wand maker would just flit around more shelves, a bit more energized each time.
"Tricky customer, eh? Don't wor..", he interrupted himself. "I wonder, but why not..." And without elaborating he vanished behind a shelve returning with one single box muttering about an unusual combination and curious circumstances.
"Thy this one, Mr. Potter. Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."
As Harry tentatively took the wand he felt a warmth spreading out, starting from this fingers and from deep inside him, meeting halfway. He carefully twirled it in his hand causing it to shoot a line of flame-like fierily red and gold sparks from its end that illuminated the slightly dark store. Hagrid whooped and clapped behind him.
"Oh, wonderful. Yes, indeed, very good."
Mr. Ollivander put Harry's wand back into the box and wrapped it in brown paper, again muttering about curious coincidences.
"Excuse me, Mr. Ollivander, but what is so curious", Harry could not help but asking.
"Mr. Potter, I remember every wand that I've ever sold. Every single wand. It just happens that the phoenix who gave the tail feather in your wand, gave one other – only one. It is very curious that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar.
Harry swallowed. That was definitely not what he had expected and a rather bitter pill to swallow. The symbolism alone...
"Remember, it is the wand that chooses the wizard. 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 nonetheless great."
The boy was not entirely sure he liked what he just heard. It sounded ominous and forbidding.
He paid seven golden Galleons for the wand and another ten for a bespelled, within the Ministry regulations, leather wand holster and a care kid in green, his favorite color. Then they left.
After an other few, but this time luckily short, stops to acquire, quills, a lot of parchment, empty journals, ink, a cauldron and some owl order catalogs they made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron for a late lunch. Harry, for once had not question as they walked through the now emptier ally and the archway back into the pub. After a hearty stew, some pumpkin juice and a piece of treacle tart he lend back into the chair.
"Hagrid, why is everyone convinced that I am special. Why isn't it mum or dad."
"Hard ter explain. Yer the only survivor, I guess. Yer family was not the only one that You-Know-How an' his followers destroyed. But somehow yer the only one that still lives and he's gone."
"Is he really gone for good."
"Dunno, not sure he's still human enough ter die. But we haven't heard from him fer almost ten years, have we? Well, let's get yer home."
"I can't. My robes will only be ready tomorrow. This is an in, isn't it. So I can stay one night and go home tomorrow."
"Yer aunt an' uncle will be worried, Harry. They may not like yer but they're still yer guardians." Harry almost snorted.
"They'll be happy I'm not around. They'd be unbearable. Especially after this morning when they were stuck on that rock when we left with the only boat."
Hagrid looked skeptical.
"I have to go to Gringotts tomorrow anyway, I told you I asked for my parents school books."
Not entirely certain but knowing that he had lost that argument Hagrid went to Tom and spoke quietly with him. Harry listened intently but couldn't make out what they were saying. In the end Hagrid left some money on the counter and then returned to Harry, handing him a key with a number on it.
"Right under the roof."
The night was quiet and warm under the roof. Even opening the windows had helped little. His snowy companion had perched herself on top of the backrest of the only chair in front of the window in order to catch a little breeze. All of hear feathers lay thin against her body as she slept. Harry had heard her leave once through the night but she was back in the morning.
As he lay awake, waiting for the sun to rise he remembered yesterdays late afternoon. It had proven to be a chore to sneak past Tom back into the ally. A short trip to Gringotts to exchange some of his money into Muggle currency and a stop at the pet shop to see if they sold treats for owls, along with a second small ice-cream that would be his alibi he returned to the inn. When he stepped in his calculations turned out correct. Tom had seen him enter from the magical world and with the ice-cream in hand he could just throw him as sheepish smile and evade a lecture. Hagrid had most likely asked him to watch Harry. He was only an eleven-year-old boy, after all, no matter how self-sufficient.
After that he had approached Tom to ask him if he knew of a phone box. As someone having his pup directly connected to the Muggle world Harry expected that he other new what he was talking about. A few minutes later, with some rather stern reminder about not going astray in the Muggle world, he left through the front door promising to be back as fast as possible. Oh, he would, but he had other plans than just informing his relatives of his whereabouts.
The phone call in it self had been rather amusing. It had been his aunt who answered the telephone. She was even surprised enough to ask if the freaks had finally learned to install phones. Though, Harry assured her that they hadn't, at least to the best of his knowledge. He then hurried to tell her that, if things went well, he may not return. Should it not work out as he hoped, he would only arrive tomorrow evening. She was slightly stumped at this and asked how that was possible but Harry had evaded giving further information by saying something confusing and rather completely false about some obscure laws and that it had to do with his fathers family.
He also told her that he would have to come for a visit in any case and explained to her that the headmaster had had no right to bring him to her family. They were not his guardians and his parents may have made it clear that if they died he would never end up with them. If he were not to return he would need any correspondence she may have gotten from his world and he would most likely not come alone as a barrister may be involved. Furthermore he would try to find a way to contact them through the normal postal way, he had an owl but he would rather not send her. For which his aunt was actually grateful.
On his way back he stopped shortly at a cloth store that advertised a discount and even found a second hand shop where he purchased some a little to big, white, long sleeved, button down shirts, black slacks and shoes, a light coat, twines and needles – he had not done years of housework without learning the basics of sewing. From a discounter a bread, apples, butter and cheese. The most important thing, however, was a small box with waterproof concealer to cover up his scar. One side trip into a back ally and he could hide all his new stuff in his trunk that was.
The first rays of sun had finally risen over the horizon as Harry had reminisced the last afternoon. Sighing he got up and took a long shower taking advantage that none was hammering at the door for him to hurry up and not waste their precious water. Then he dressed in some of the new cloths. And although the black slacks were to long and had needed shortening they did not nearly look as bad as Dudley's cast offs. With his scar hidden and his owl on his shoulder he made his way downstairs where a barely awake bartender opened up his pub.
"Good morning, Tom." Harry put the key on the counter.
"Good morning, Mr. Potter. Breakfast will be ready in a moment." Harry went slack yawed. He had not expected that.
"But, didn't Hagrid already pay for the stay."
Tom laughed.
"That room you had last night, is probably the tiniest and most uncomfortable in the whole inn. I rarely even use it. But Hagrid argued that you would never allow him to pay for a better room and breakfast. So we compromised. Now, how does a full English breakfast sound? Sit over there. I've yet to eat myself."
Tom hushed him towards a table where he had sat down two pates, cups and cutlery. A pot of hot steaming tea sat next to freshly beaked bread, butter, marmalade, milk for the tee and some syrup. Half a grapefruit set atop of each plate along with a small portion of warm porridge. Harry had hardly sat down as Tom already reentered the room. In his hand a big plate that held baked tomatoes and bacon, along with some fried mushrooms, small sausages, and eggs.
"Dig in, Mr. Potter, I can tell by just looking at you that you're far to thin."
And Harry did. At some point in his life he had eaten any of it before. But most of it was either the burned parts or they were at least already cold. The Dursleys had never allowed him to sit at the table with them. Only when they had guest and to keep up appearances he got to eat warm food. Having a full English breakfast was quite literally unthinkable.
Ordinarily Harry would have just had the porridge and maybe a slice of bread but Tom saw to it that he hate a second and even gave him the rest of the backed tomatoes and bacon when he saw that the snowy owl was steeling some of it.
"You have got a cheeky one there", he commented. "Does she have a name."
Harry did not ask how he knew that his companion was female and just shock his head.
"No, I hoped to find an inspiration for a name in one of my books today."
"Didn't you by those yesterday."
"No, I asked the goblins for my parents schoolbooks. There's no need to waste money and have a book trice in the end."
"Hm, so you'll be heading for Gringotts then."
Harry nodded, even if that was not necessarily true. He would only collect his cloth at Madam Malkin's, buy some flowers, if the vendor was there today as well, and then go to Godric's Hollow. Grimclaw had said that he would owl him, so he would probably receive a letter today.
"I'll be coming right back through in a bit. Can I call the Knight Bus directly in front of the pub."
"Ah, so you already know about that one? Well, yes, you can do that. The Muggles can not see it. Though be warned the ride is rather bumpy. Ernie, the driver, is a bit..."
After saying goodbye to Tom, Harry, once more, made his way into the ally. He greeted Madam Malkin as he opened her shop and packed away his new robes after one final check by trying all of them on. They did fit rather well. Thanking her once again he left her as well and half an our after finishing breakfast he stood in front of the Leaky Cauldron waving shortly with his wand.
Seconds later a deafening bang announced the arrival of a violently purple triple-decker bus that came to screeching halt. Golden letters over the windshield spelled its name. After a moment the conductor, wearing an equally purple uniform jumped out of the front door while the door in the back opened and a few green looking people stepped out of the bus, one still wearing a night cap, another had, what looked like hot chocolate over his robes.
"Good morning and welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard, just stick out your wand hand, step on board and we can take you were ever you want to go. My name is Stan Shunpike a-"
"Good morning, Mr. Shunpike" Harry resolutely interrupted before that speak got any longer.
"Good morning... Woss your name?"
"Piers Polkins", Harry lied through his teeth.
"Well, g'd morning Piers. Where to?"
"Godric's Hollow, please, eleven Sickles, correct?" Harry had already spied the sign next to the driver and confirmed the amount named by Grimclaw yesterday. So he counted the money carefully and gave it to Stan.
"Well, hop on."
Inside there were still a mixture of brass beds and mismatched chairs, some of them fallen over, most likely when the bus stopped, that gave Harry the vague idea that he might not enjoy the trip to come. With great trepidation he sat down, not a moment to late. With a jerk the bus started moving and shortly after the same deafening bang brought them from the middle of London onto some highway.
By the end of the trip even Harry felt slightly sick and his snowy companion was just a little short of outright attacking the driver or conductor. She had nearly fallen off his shoulder each and every time the bus jumped to another time – not even taking into account Ernie's horrible driving stile when he went around the hairpin bends of some country road somewhere in the hills or mountains.
It was with wobbly knees that Harry stepped of the bus when they finally arrived in Godric's Hollow. He may have turned out Stan Shunpike for most of the ride, just letting his constant chatter drift in through one ear and out of the other, but he was also most grateful for it. For it was the only thing distracting him enough from throwing up his breakfast and so he swore to himself never to get on that bus again after eating.
The first thing on his schedule in Godric's Hollow was to make his way to the graveyard. Grimclaw was nice enough to add that address as well, so he just asked his way around, in the village. Sure enough he soon found himself next to the local church, entering the graveyard and looking for his parents graves. He found them, among many other Potter's, although the dates on the gravestones indicated that some had died long before. He had no idea what flowers where appropriate for decorating a grave and so he just went with his mothers name and had gotten a bouquet of white lilies wit dark green ivy to lay on.
When he finally knelt in front of his parents graves it hit him for the first time. Death was something final. A tiny, and admittedly rather childish, part of him had always dreamed about having parents that did secret missions. He had always hoped that some day, if he was just good enough, they would come to pick him up. They would get him out of his personal hell and they could be a happy family. But now, seeing the graves, he was forced to accept the harsh reality and see it with a clarity that he did not before. And so, for the very first time in his memory, he cried; cried for the parents, the family and childhood that he lost because of a mad man's doings; cried because of the unfairness of people expecting him to do great things when logic demanded that it was his parents who had saved him; cried because for as long as he could remember, all he ever felt was loneliness.
A rustle of feat and a walking cane hitting the ground brought him back to awareness. He wiped the tears of his cheeks with the sleeve of his coat. From the corner of his eyes he saw and old lady with gray hair approaching. From her tattered looks Harry was not sure if she was a witch or some rather crazy, old Muggle woman.
"Are you quite all right, dear?" Her old voice sounded thin but was layers thick with honest worry.
"Yes, mam', I'm fine, thank you", Harry forced himself to answer even if his voice sounded of and clearly stated otherwise. As he stood up he brushed the dirt of his trousers and turned towards the old lady. Harry gave her what was supposed to be a reassuring smile but instead of leaving the old lady gasped.
"Bless my sole. Mr. Potter, I never expected to see you again during my lifetime."
Harry frown, he had concealed his scar this morning and that Muggle make up was nasty stuff, which meant that he had tested it by washing his face with hot water after wards just to see if it came down. He was absolutely sure that it could not be seen. So, how did the old woman recognize him.
"Ah, excuse me. You would not remember me, of course not, you were far to young back then."
Ah, that explained it, Harry thought as the elder continued rambling.
"My name is Bathilda Bagshot. I was the Professor for History at Hogwarts but retired before your parents started school. I only got to know them, well your mother mostly, when they moved here after their wedding."
Well, that was definitely a surprise. Harry contemplated the pros and cons of asking further questions but it was not at all necessary. Ms. Bagshot seemed contend enough to ramble on and spout almost everything she remembered about him. She single-handedly gave him more information and insight about his parents their lives and friends than anyone else. She also had a brilliant memory for she was able to give a chronicle account of events and switched to diachronic when ever there was a need for more information, which was often. She did not assume that he knew anything but instead started at the beginning. Harry could see why she had been a Professor for History with the passion that she held. And then it clicked.
"You wrote the book, that we have to buy, A History of Magic, wasn't it?"
She just smiled at him an hushed him forward as they had been making their way through the village towards the outskirts. They left her grocery bag at her house and went on to Potter Cottage, as the old woman called it.
When Harry asked for clarification he only got to know that his parents had bought that house but it was not the ancestral home of the Potter family. While that family had lived here for generations, there were rumors about a manor or ancient home that was hidden somewhere around here.
"There we are."
They had reached a house at the and of the street. It was a midsized two story house with a bit of garden around it that had grown a out of bounds. The paint of the gate was starting to fall of, A sign stood right behind it and told the story of what happened that night. It was graffitied over and the text was barely legible anymore as people had written well wishes on it.
Harry just stood in front of the gate. He could not bring himself to just enter the house. In stead the took in the sight before him, burning it into his memory. Ivy ranked itself up at the side of the house but it had somehow stopped growing. It was a bit as if the House and anything directly touching it was frozen in time, while the rest of the garden started to resemble a jungle.
Harry just vaguely noticed Mr. Bagshot leaving him. She made him promise that he would come for a cup of tea before he left but here legs were a bit old to just be standing around for a long time. Even after she was gone, Harry did not immediately enter the property.
When he eventually did. He almost could not. The hangs of the garden gate where so rusty it hardly opened. So he squeezed himself through. The front door was not looked but at first it, too, resisted opening. This time the hangers did not squeak, though. Maybe the Ministry had dome something from preventing just anyone to enter the house. He did not care.
He stepped into a narrow corridor. At the end a set of stairs lead up. One of the doors was wide open. It let into the living room which unlike the corridor appeared untouched. Two mugs where standing on the couch table, a fire was burning but it to was frozen, like in a picture. It was bizarre, thought Harry, as he stepped into the room. On the mantelpiece stood a couple of pictures. One showed a group of five. In the middle was a man that looked very much like him. He had his arm around the beautiful woman next to him. On his other side stood a man. He was just as tall. His hair was as dark as his fathers but not nearly as untamed. Dark, neatly ordered curls fell onto his shoulders. He had a wide charming grin on his face as he grind into the camera. He had his right hand on his fathers shoulders and leaned on him which left the young somewhat plumb man with a mouse-like face next to him a bit out of the group. On the woman's other side stood one more man, though he looked a little older and worn out. His robes hung a bit shapeless of his body and where patched up at odd places.
Harry's eyes drifted over the other photographs. Most of them featured what he believed to be his parents. The mouse-like boy did not reappear anywhere else. But there was also a shot of a couple, that held a man. He looked like an older version of his dad and Harry concluded that it could possibly be his grandfather. But he skipped over it as well as all his attention was focused on the only picture that was not just black and white. A family portrait. It looked like it had been shot in summer. His father sat on a blanked in a garden or park, his mother next to him. None of them looked into the camera. The small toddler in between the two held all of their attention. Little Harry was clutching two dog or wolf shaped cuddly toys while sleeping.
Harry reached out to take the picture from the mantelpiece, enthralled with the peace it conveyed. He sank on the pollster stool, a part of the tree-piece-suit, in front of the now moving flames. When he had taken the picture it seamed as if the spell, freezing everything in time, had broken. Harry, however, took no notice of that, nor of the noises around him as others entered the house.
"Put your wand down and turn around slowly", a voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "You are hereby charged with trespassing."
Harry turned his face towards the intruder.
"And what right do you have to be here", he drawled imitating no other than Draco Malfoy.
The first speaker had entered the living room and a second and third person became visible behind him.
"Savage, don't answer that", boomed a voice from the corridor. From the sound of it the person was still close to the front door and had entered just as Harry replied.
"Moody, this is non of your business. You're obstructing our work."
The man called Moody chuckled in amusement.
"I'd like to see you hand in that report saying that you arrested Harry Potter in his parents house."
The others openly gaped and Harry could not help but role his eyes, as a tall man shoved his way into the room. He was at least six feet tall, with dark gray hair. But that was not the remarkable about him. His whole face and even his neck and hands were scarred, a good chunk of his nose was missing and one of his eyes was replaced by a vivid, electric blue look-alike that was spinning madly in his socket.
"Alastor Moody", he introduced himself gruffly. "Bathilda contacted me, saying you were here without any adult."
Someone muttered something about old people and seniles sticking together, causing both of Moody's eyes to focus on the unnamed auror.
"I may be old, Henson, but I'm neither deaf nor unable to still mop the floor with your", Moody got interrupted by a sharp voice calling his name.
"Alastor!"
"You were saying, Robarts?"
"Mr. Potter", Robarts chose to ignore Moody in favor of addressing him. "This place is a memorial, warded by the Ministry. No one, is allowed to enter it as it was kept the way it was like at the night of the attack on you and your parents."
"Does the Ministry make a habit of turning the inheritance of orphans into memorials, thereby taking away everything of sentimental value." Harry made it a point to hold up the picture he had been looking at. "Does the Ministry even realize that I have never so much as seen a picture of my late parents before today when they allowed that I was dumped with a Muggle family."
Harry was irate. How dare they. If they had only wanted the house to become a memorial, well, he could have understood that but he was talking about their belongings, photographs, old letters, anything that could give him some information about how they were like.
The man looked slightly uncomfortable at this.
"You should have just gone through the proper channels first, then it wouldn't have been a problem", chimed in the man whom Moody called Savage.
"In case I did not express myself clearly enough for you, Sir", Harry started, voice cold enough to freeze hell over. "I was raised with Muggles, and believe me, I did try to find out where my parents graves where."
Oh, he had indeed and it that gotten him one of the longest punishments in form of a server 'spanking' and confinement to his cupboard.
"Now, now, Mr. Potter", it was Robarts again. "We were told that your mothers family had taken you in."
"If by 'taken me in' you are referring to the headmaster dropping me of on there door step in the middle of the night, than yes, they did take me in. They even got a letter telling them who I was, that my parents were dead and what not."
Well, congratulation to myself, Harry thought sarcastically, I've just successfully managed to stun four grown adults, three of them some sort of police, into absolute silence.
"Surly, your guardians would have taken you, if you had asked. Godric's Hollow is a mixed community. There are ways for Muggles to come here." That was the unnamed third of the trio. He did not seem to believe Harry, but then again, Tom did not want to believe that it was his parents who where the heroes either.
"First of all, they might not even have known where we are." There was no need to tell that there was no way the Dursleys would have taken him, even if they knew. "Second, the fact that I've not seen so much as a picture of my mother should be a tell tale sign that they didn't so much as stay in contact. Third, this concludes that they most likely did not want anything to do with wizards. And lastly, if that was true than I would have not known about the magical world until they couldn't prevent it any longer."
Moody grunted but he seemed more amused about preteen showing up some Ministry official than anything else. He had gone to closely observing Harry, who found that slightly unnerving and was tempted to glare at the older wizard. Only, he wold have probably lost that contest with the older man. Moody did look rather creepy, after all.
"If I had so much as set a toe into the Wizarding world, you would have known it, seeing on how ridiculous most people behave when meeting me. Oh, and lastly, the Muggles I was dumped with aren't my legal guardians, nor is the headmaster. The goblins were kind enough to inform me about that and are already going through the proper channels to look into that." He threw a nasty look as Savage.
Well, that was no lie. Harry just omitted that he knew who could have been his guardian. If his silent observer realized that he left something out he did not let on. So, Harry just put the picture back on the mantelpiece and walked out of the living room. As if in an afterthought, the turned around in the door frame.
"The door is over there", Harry pointed down the hall end left in the opposite direction. He was half the way up the stairs, when Savage caught up to the bottom.
"Potter, you can't just dismiss Aurors. This has to be done..." Harry did not let him finish.
"Mr. Savage, If this had been done properly in the first place we wouldn't been having this conversation. The Ministry had no right to claim my inheritance. I care little for the house itself, seeing that the only memories I have of it are a cruel laugh and a flash of green light. But, as the goblins informed me, everything from within should have been placed into Gringotts. Good day, sir."
Once again he left three stumped Ministry officials in his wake and a loudly laughing Moody in the door frame to the living room. Harry stopped out of sight and waited for the tell tale noise of footsteps and the sound of the front door, then he followed the signs of destruction towards an unhinged door.
He found himself in a bedroom equipped for a child. Even though it was partially destroyed, a look around the room told him that it was furnished with care. In his old bed he spotted the two small cuddly toys he had seen on the picture, sitting right next to the pillow. He could now see that it was a black dog and a brown wolf. On the foot end there was another one that remotely resembled a mouse. The pillowcase was decorated with a family of dears that resembled Walt Disney's Bambi. In a corner there was a shelf with books. Next to it, on the ground, stood an open wooden box that contained some wooden blocks and other toys.
Harry stood right in front of the bed, back to the door, lost in his thoughts when a loud gruff voice boomed.
"CONSTANT VIGILANCE."
Oh, if you don't mind, could you vote on that poll on my profile? I'm rather curious what you think the outcome would be. Not, that you can influence it, as the next chapter is half written already...
edited: August 18, 2014; 01:30