A/N: We have reached the part of the story where Christopher's point of view is followed.. Thanks for the review Padfootgrim :)

Chapter Two: Pride and Prejudice

Christopher Black sat behind the counter weighing out poisonous red spider eggs for the strength potion he was making up for the order book in front of him. His mother had been teaching him the trade from an early age. Christopher remembered overhearing snatches of conversation as he grew up that revealed how she was uncertain whether he may be accepted into a school of magic, so he had guessed that this was her main reason to concentrate so much of her time in teaching him to brew potions.

The reason behind why he would have trouble being accepted into a school was unclear to him, but he was not without his theories. He knew he was very magical - that much was clear from the time he knocked over a stack of books while in Flourish and Blotts with his mother and then she was insulted and they were both thrown out by the manager. He made things only worse for her by being angry and causing it to hose down with rain inside the store. Vances potions struggled to stay afloat after that. Replacing all those damaged books had cost a fortune in galleons. She hadn't been too angry with him – she had just sighed and had refused to look at him properly for a few weeks, keeping her eyes adverted when she talked to him. He was used to this though. That was where he suspected his absent father came into the equation.

As Christopher added six octopus suckers to the cauldron after mixing in the spider eggs he reflected on what he did know of his father. His mother had never told him much, it was clear even to the ten-year-old Christopher Black that it was a painful subject for her. He suspected, as he did not look very much like her that the reason she sometimes could not look at him was because he reminded her of his father. He had always been determined to overcome this failing though, and had endeavored to prove to her that he was as unlike his father as he could imagine. Not that he had the slightest idea of what his fathers' personality had been like. So Christopher often tried to win his mothers love with jokes and stories and pranks, as he could not imagine someone who could have ever hurt his mother having that sort of a playful personality. The reaction he sometimes got to this sort of behavior surprised him and he wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. She would often laugh at what he had done at first, and he thought he was succeeding in his quest for her affection. But then more often than not her mood would change and he would catch her crying silently in the stock room where she often spent her time sorting ingredients. The only other thing he knew about his father was that he was deeply disliked by the wizarding community – so much so that he himself was despised by other magical folk quite strongly. Once, while eating lunch in the Leaky Cauldron (a rare occurrence as his mother preferred not to leave the shop more than was strictly necessary), Christopher heard a witch at the table over from him commenting to her friend.

'You would have thought the ministry would have had Blacks son put down – look at him, I'd bet more money than Bagman that he'll go the same way as his father.'

He noticed that these sorts of cruel comments were becoming more and more common as he grew older, so it was lucky that he had no idea of how bad it would eventually become.

On the twenty eighth of July, Christopher celebrated his birthday, knowing he wouldn't be showered with presents, or particularly spoiled, although his mother did tend to cut him some slack when it came to working in the shop on that one day of the year.

He was quite surprised when he entered the kitchen that morning to find his mother grinning more widely than she usually managed for him on his birthday.

There was a large brown owl perched on the back of his usual chair, and it had a letter clamped tightly in it's beak rather than tied to it's foot.

"It's addressed to you," said his mother, leaning forward in her chair to watch him take the letter.

Christopher took the letter and looked curiously at the green writing addressed to him on the envelope. He didn't recognise the writing, but there was certainly no mistaking whom it was for. Turning it over, he saw a red stamp with a crest on, and with no further ado, quickly ripped open the envelope.

Inside was a letter stating that he had been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Christopher felt more elated than he ever had in his life. He was finally going to learn more about magic than just potions! He couldn't wait until he got his wand, and his first spell books, and met other children his age.

His mothers face fell at the mention of the spell books they would have to buy – for they still weren't welcome back in Flourish and Blotts, and would have to send away for them instead - a more expensive alternative. But after breakfast, the two of them put on their robes, and stepped out into the early morning sunshine of Diagon alley to start buying his other supplies.

Stopping at Madam Malkins robes first, Emmeline fondled the school robes with red on them, which Christopher thought were by far the nicest.

"I had robes like these," commented Emmeline, "Because I was in Gryffindor house while at Hogwarts."

"Does that mean I'll be put in Gryffindor?" asked Christopher. He had never been told by her about the houses of Hogwarts.

"I hope so," said Emmeline. "I really hope so…" she added trailing off.

Christopher didn't have time to ask more about Gryffindor as Madam Malkin had approached them with a set of plain black robes – as the colour wasn't added on for new students until after the sorting ceremony.

By the time they exited the shop he wasn't in such a good mood. Madam Malkin had made him stand on a wobbly three-legged stool while she had taken his new robes up. He had been pricked in the legs an unusually large number of times and was sure he was bleeding.

The next stop was Ollivanders. Christopher was very much looking forward to finally getting his wand. It was a narrow shop that was squeezed up between two other shops, and looked like it had been there since the beginning of time. The letters over the door were peeling, and confirmed that the shop had been standing at least as far back as 382BC.

When Christopher stepped into the shop closely followed by his mother, there was a faint tinkling of the bell and then all was hushed and the silence seemed heavy in the air. Thousands of dust laden wand boxes lay stacked up on rows of shelves built for that purpose, and stretched so far up that they were touching the high ceiling.

Out of the gloom emerged the most curious man Christopher had ever set eyes on. He was very old and made no sound as he moved towards them, stirring up not a single particle of dust.

"Good morning," he said in what Christopher thought was a rather creepy soft voice. His eyes seemed to glow in the light from the window, and Christopher felt rather frightened, but tried not to show it.

"Morning Mr Ollivander," greeted Emmeline immediately. "I've come to buy my son his first wand since he has been accepted into Hogwarts."

Mr Ollivanders eyes rotated to scan Christopher up and down. He didn't seem to like what he saw because they narrowed into a frown and his lips seemed to disappear as they turned down.

"Sirius Blacks son is he?" he asked stonily, although it didn't seem so much of a question as a statement.

"Er yes, b-but I've brought him up," said Emmeline stammering somewhat nervously.

"No wand from this shop will be purchased for Mr Black," said Mr Ollivander quite blandly to Emmeline.

There was a silence for a moment and Christopher stood looking in shock at Mr Ollivander who was glaring quite hard at his mother.

"C-come on dear," stammered Emmeline again taking Christopher by the upper arm and starting to tug him back towards the door.

"Wait a minute," said Christopher starting to feel quite angry and pulling against his mother. "Why are you refusing to sell me a wand? I haven't done anything wrong and I need a wand for Hogwarts. It says so in my letter."

"You are very much like your father, Mr Black," stated Mr Ollivander, addressing Christopher for the first time to his face. "Yes I am sorry to say that I sold him his first wand. Oak and Unicorn hair, 13 inches. I will not sell a wand to a child who is highly likely to go down the same dark path as his father and kill both muggles and wizards to further the dark arts."

Emmeline gave a small squeak of shock behind Christopher and then dragged him though the shop door before he had a chance to ask any further questions. Not that he felt able to now of course. His father was a dark wizard and had murdered both muggles and wizards? He had never imagined that his father was quite that bad. Christopher felt frozen inside. He had muggle friends at his primary school, and he couldn't think of anything worse than people like them coming to harm at the hands of a wizard. They wouldn't understand what was happening until it was too late. He had killed some wizards too… No wonder his mother had refused to tell him anything.

But the worst feeling he got out of the experience was that Mr Ollivander had seemed to think that he was just like his father. Christopher thought that Mr Ollivander didn't seem the sort of man to misjudge a person from the careful way his spooky eyes had surveyed and taken every detail about him in.

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