Thosar blinked, then quickly recovered. "What proof does he present of his claim?"
The old man stepped forward, and told a story. A story of a young wizard baby. A baby who had defeated, against all odds, a Dark Lord. The only remainder of the encounter, he stated, was a scar. A lightning-bolt scar on the baby's forehead. At this, all eyes in the room swiveled to peer at Thosar's scar.
Thosar was numb. He faintly heard one of the Council members argue, "Despite what you say and the scar on his forehead, he is still obviously faerie. Never before have faeries and wizards mixed without bloodshed. Do you expect us to send him into your world with only your tale and be slaughtered?"
The old man simply replied, in an informative voice, "While he is faerie, he is also wizard. Do not tell me you have not smelt it in his blood, have not noticed the difference."
The Council exchanged glances. Panic wormed his way into Thosar's heart. He asked, keeping his voice steady, "How can the blood of both wizard and faerie flow through one's body? It is unheard of."
The old man coughed. "How it is that you came to be this way is beyond me. However, we have been searching for you since your eleventh birthday. We had some...difficulty tracking you."
The Council looked anywhere but him. "Perhaps it is for the best..." He heard one member murmur. "You have expressed feelings of discontent over the way are society works, no?"
"So you would send me away, simply because you would like to believe one wizard's words." His voice was icy cold.
The Council leader, ignoring him, called out, "All in favor?"
Reluctantly, each raised their hand.
White hot fury filled him. "Very well," he said. "Let it be recorded that on this day, I, Thosar, was declared to be an outcast, all in the words of one wizard."
The old man gave him a blank smile. "If that's over, let's be going."
"Indeed, old man." His words were full of spite, yet the old man said nothing as they walked out of the Eternal City's gates, never to return.
He realized, with bitterness, that he had left behind his hunting gear in his forgetfulness.
The old man, once out of the city's gates, had held out his arm, saying, "Hold my arm tightly, and don't let go."
He did so unquestioningly. In a flash, he felt a sickening tug, as if being pulled and stretched through a rubber tube.
He stumbled as his feet hit the ground, such clumsiness feeling unnatural to him. The old man, Dumbledore, he had said his name was, had easily stayed on his feet. How could this man, a wizard, stay on his feet with such ease, while he, one of the faeries, known for their gracefulness, nearly fell?
They had appeared in a dark room. Even with light-sensitive eyes, Thosar could barely see the walls around him.
A light flickered.
Dumbledore said, looking at home in the cramped room, said, "Now, my boy, there are a few things you need to know before entering Diagon Alley."
Diagon Alley. The name was unfamiliar to him.
"First off, while your official name is Harry James Potter, it would be best for you and the wizarding world if you went by your faerie name. At Hogwarts, a school for young witches and wizards such as yourself that you'll be attending, you shall be known as 'Thosar Springfoot'. It will be more convenient than explaining who you truly are. According to your story, you'll be an exchange student from America. Not so hard to believe, seeing as the Americans are an odd lot. Have you got that?"
Narrowing his eyes to a slit, Thosar nodded.
"Good!" Dumbledore said, clapping his hands. "Than let's be off! Oh, yes, and you'll be needing this." He handed Thosar an envelope. "Well, my boy, good luck!"He disappeared with a pop!
For not the first time, Thosar felt the urge to bodily harm the wizard the next time they met. Had it not been for him, and his persistence, he would not be here, among wizards.
He knit his brows together, and with an outtake of breath, he opened the door and walked out.
Overwhelmed. The only word that could describe how he felt.
He found himself in a a huge crowd of wizards, all moving throughout Diagon Alley. Bright stores lined the alley, with many people coming and going in and out of them. Having no clue as to where to start, Thosar opened the envelope and looked over the list of supplies required.
Wand...books...robes...robes,that might be a bit of a problem. In the Eternal City, all clothing had slits in the back, and you simply folded your wings against your shoulder blades. That wouldn't work quite so well with the school robes, he was guessing. He currently had them pressed against his bare skin, despite it being greatly uncomfortable. He would worry about that later, however.
First and foremost, a wand. It probably was unnecessary, seeing as he could easily do magic with just a few words in Latvian, but he wasn't about to risk it.
He studied the rows of stores uneasily. Ollivander's Wands was the obvious choice, so he quickly entered.
A young girl was already obtaining her wand, so Thosar hung back and watched as she let out a delighted squeal when a wand she had picked up emitted silver sparks.
"Ah," an old wizard who Thosar assumed was Ollivander said, "eleven and a half inches, willow. Good for healing magics. That will be seven galleons."
Galleons? Once the girl had left with her parents, Thosar approached Ollivander.
"Harry Potter," Ollivander said, stunning him, "Come to finally seek out your wand?"
"How did you..." he began, then his eyes widened. "You're part centaur!"
Ollivander smiled mysteriously. "Indeed I am, though only a small part. You, half-blood, are the first to realize this. Your birth was written in the stars. It caused great chaos among the heavenly bodies."
Thosar eyed him with new respect. "Tell me, than. Do I truly belong among wizards, or have I been doomed to walk a half life, never truly belonging to either faeries or wizards?"
Ollivander shook his head. "You walk a fine line, that is all I know. The path you choose shall determine the future of both worlds. I do not judge, only see."
Silence. Finally, Thosar said, "I come to find a wand, yet I know not the payment system among wizards."
Ollivander nodded. "Usually, I would not demand payment for one who holds such power and wise judgment for their age. However, I know of the faeries' honor, and therefore shall not. Go to Gringotts, the wizard bank, run by goblins. There, you should be able to open the vault left by your adoptive parents. Then, you may join me again, and find your wand."
Bowing his head, Thosar walked out.
Wizards were widely recognized for their love of gold, much like dragons. Therefore, the place that it was stored would be large, and heavily guarded.
He tapped a man passing by on the shoulder. When he turned around, Thosar asked, "I apologize for bothering you, sir,but might you mind directing me to Gringotts?" The faeries might see wizards as beneath them, but he had been trained to show proper respect to his elders, and he intended to do so, no matter of which species they might belong.
Thankfully not noticing his ears, the stranger kindly answered, "Go on straight down the alley, young man. You'll see it soon enough to your left. Hard to miss it, big and made of white marble."
Politely thanking him, Thosar went as directed, hearing the man say to his companion, "I just met the most courteous young man. It's so refreshing to meet a teenager with manners nowadays."
There it was. Big and made of while marble was an accurate enough description, but it did not nearly come close to describing it fully.
Any eye sharper than the average wizard's could make out the tiny, miniscule words covering the whole building. The same sentence, in every language.
One day we shall be free. That was rather odd. As far as he knew, the goblins had never in their history been enslaved. He supposed he would learn of the meaning in the words when he went in.
He took in the large words on the doors.
Enter stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed
For those who take but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn,
So if you seek beneath our floors,
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
A bit morbid, but he suspected it warned off any thieves hastily. He pushed the door open, and made his way inside.