A.N.: Yes, I'm alive. lol. I can't apologize for how long it's been since my last post, because if I'm honest these past seven months have been hell for me and my family and I haven't had time to do more than occasionally scribble down notes in the lull before the next catastrophe hits.
Harry woke the next morning to find that the fire from the night before had burned itself down to red and white coals. A quick glance at the hearth to find it bereft of any ashy trails assured him that no ashwinders had risen from the unsupervised grate and slithered off to set the Leaky Cauldron ablaze with an emberlike egg.
As he climbed out of bed and began to get dress for the day in one of the few sets of robes he owned Harry couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement begin to bubble up behind his breastbone. This was the first time he had ever been allowed to stay anywhere on his own without the supervision of an adult. On the one hand it spurred within him a desire to make sure that he lived up to the trust his Grandad was giving him. While on the other hand he could get up to anything he wanted to, barring breaking the law, and no one would know. It was a heady sensation. A sensation made even more tempting by the fact that he was in the biggest wizarding shopping district in the country with his pockets rattling with gold and no one staring over his shoulder telling him what he could and couldn't buy.
It was Fea's voice, however, that brought him back down to reality.
"Don't go spending all your galleons in one place, Fledgling," she croaked as though having sensed his thoughts. "And try not to be tricked into buying anything as stupid as a solid gold gobstone set…."
"I'm just going to be picking up my order from Madam Malkin's and visiting a few of the other shops that I didn't have a chance to go to yesterday," Harry informed the raven as he doled up some Owl Chow for his new pet and refreshed her water bowl.
The as yet still nameless snowy owl gave a craggy bark-like hoot of thanks before tucking into her breakfast. Meanwhile, Fea peered at him skeptically with a single pale eye.
"Of course you are," she replied mildly. "Still, I don't anticipate you running into any trouble," she went on. "And if you do you have your ring. Just remember that hordes of admirers don't count as an emergency."
Casting the smug raven a jaundiced look Harry pocketed his new wand and left the room; closing the door behind him with a bit more force than was strictly necessary. He ignored the raven's cackling laughter as he made his way to the rickety staircase that led downstairs.
The dining area of the Leaky Cauldron was only sparsely populated when Harry entered. The only people in attendance that morning were Tom the bartender, who was serving bottles of pumpkin fizz to a pair of witches at the bar, and a rather full-figured witch in periwinkle robes, who was serving up breakfast to a wizened old wizard in a pointed gray hat.
As he strode up to the bar he noticed that the pumpkin fizz witches seemed to be talking nervously about something. Even Tom seemed rather stressed if the tight lines around his mouth and eyes were anything to go by.
"Is everything alright," Harry asked the bartender. In reply the older man slid that morning's issue of the Daily Prophet over to him.
Curious Harry picked up the paper and felt his eyebrows begin creeping up towards his hairline as he saw the headline, which read:
Gringotts' Security Breached
The Ministry of Magic has confirmed that yesterday evening Gringotts Wizarding Bank – largely considered one of the most secure locations in Wizarding Britain – was broken into by persons unknown.
When questioned the Gringotts spokes-goblin refused to go into detail about which vault or vaults – if any – were breached and would not comment on whether or not anything was taken.
Madam Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, was quick to reassure us that the Ministry is working with Gringotts to bring the culprit to justice. "The goblins are handing things on their end," said Madam Bones, "Meanwhile, we at the DMLE encourage anyone with information regarding the break-in to come forward."
"Do you suppose the Ministry will catch whoever did it?" Harry asked Tom setting the paper aside.
"We can only hope," said Tom, the lines of worry about his eyes deepening as he went on. "It could only have been someone practicing the worst sort of magic to get by the goblins. Everyone's going to be on high alert until they're caught, you mark my words."
There was indeed an obvious presence of Magical Law Enforcement Officers patrolling the alley when Harry passed through the enchanted archway. The Leos stood out from the regular witches and wizards going about their business due to the fact that they were all dressed exactly the same in doubled-breasted robes of royal blue with stun-batons hanging from the thick leather belts around their waists. The heavy wooden rods were aglow with lines of fiery red runes along their lengths.
Harry didn't exactly go out of his way to avoid the Leos and the other patrons bustling about, but when he could he kept his distance from them nevertheless as he made his way down the alley to Madam Malkin's. All the while feeling thankful for the forest-green robes that ensure that he didn't stand out from the crowd as much as he had the day before. After all, all it would take was one person noticing the lightning bolt scar on his forehead and calling out his name for him to be swarmed as he had been in the Leaky Cauldron.
However, even his desire to maintain his anonymity didn't stop him from venturing further down the alley towards the snowy white pillars of Gringotts after he retrieved his purchase from the robe shop.
There were even more Leos congregating about the marble steps of the wizarding bank. Interspersed among them are witches and wizards who could only be Aurors, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement's elite officers, if the spell-damaged dragon-hide overcoats they wore over their robes and the enchanted silver swords belted at their waists were anything to go by.
Tom was right, Harry thought feeling ill at ease. The break-in at Gringotts the day before really had unnerved those in the wizarding world.
He watched for a short while as anyone who approached the bank was waved over by the Leos for questioning before they were allowed to pass. It wasn't long before he came to the conclusion that his day might be better spent in his room at the Leaky Cauldron familiarizing himself with his new textbooks and perhaps working out a name for his new owl.
Fea was not pleased that he had ventured out on his own after learning of the break-in.
"You should have come right back upstairs and got me before you even thought about going out!" she crowed. "What if the thief had still been lurking somewhere on the alley! Or what if they had decided to come back to the alley today!"
"Oh come on, Fea." Harry protested from his place atop his freshly made bed as he sorted through his new school books – the maid having already been and gone by the time he'd gotten back from Madam Malkin's. "I'm fine. And anyway, why would the thief come back if they managed to get away without being caught. Returning to the scene of their crime would be a bit stupid, wouldn't it?"
Fea gave a harsh croak of laughter and clacked her beak wickedly.
"Never underestimated the stupidity of humans – or any being capable of "intelligent" thought," she informed him.
"If you say so," said Harry neutrally, selecting Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling from his stack of books and cracking it open.
Harry spent the rest of his morning skimming through his new books, which were all very interesting.
From You & Your Owl he learned that post owls were specially breed for higher levels of intelligence than their non-magical cousins and that they were all hatched from rune inscribed eggs that enabled short messages to be imprinted into the birds very mind so that they could be verbally relayed to a recipient later.
Which, Harry thought, explained rather well the minute rune matrixes that on a closer inspection could be seen imbued into the keratin on either side of his snowy owl's beak like a series of tiny tattoos.
Longer messages and parcels, the book when on to say, of course had to be physically delivered. A task that the post owl began training for almost as soon as they were fledged.
But it was while skimming through the thirteenth century in his copy of A History of Magic, however, that he came across the perfect name for the owl – Hedwig. After all, in the short while he had gotten to know her his new owl seemed to posse the poise and dignity of royalty, so who better to name her after than the late Duchess of Silesia. A witch who had delighted in walking barefoot in the snow just because she could.
It was a couple of days before cabin fever got the best of Harry and he decided to chance venturing out on the alley alone again. His reasoning for doing so was threefold. Firstly, it gave the Aurors and Leos a chance to catch the criminal (which they didn't). Secondly, he'd become a bit engrossed by his new spellsbooks and was spending more time than he usually did just reading. And thirdly, and most importantly, it gave him enough time to annoy Fea to the point where she would demand some alone time instead of riding him around like her own personal pony every time he left his room.
Still his self-imposed confinement hadn't been completely awful. He'd even fallen into a bit of a routine quite quickly: have a bit of a lie in, get up, practice one of the katas he knew that could be performed within the confines of his room, wash up and get dressed for the day, and then head down to the dining area for a late breakfast with Fea riding along.
While eating he would then check the Daily Prophet for the latest news on the Gringotts Break-in before engaging in a bit of people watching during the remainder of his meal. So far, he'd seen Healer who had just come off a late-night shift at St. Mungo's. She'd been grumbling into her tea about some idiot who'd attempted to travel by fire with something that hadn't actually been Floo Powder ("It's only two sickles a bloody scoop! If I have to treat one more person with a burned backside whose blown themselves out of a chimney I'll quit!) Then there had been a pair of youngish dwarrow (if their less than full beards was anything to go by); and, strangest of all, a rather diminutive American warlock that had been accompanied by either a highly mobile houseplant or a very small Ent.
After breakfast, Harry would then head back upstairs to his room to do a bit of reading until lunch. After which, he would work on some of the simpler bits of magic in The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1 until supper. So far, he had managed a cantrip that made different colored sparks shoot from the end of his wand on command and a charm that made the tip of it glow like a torch until the counter-spell was used.
But not today. Fea wanted him as far away from her as possible. Most likely owing to the fact that some of Harry's wand sparks had set fire to her tailfeathers the previous evening. And so, Harry would be going out on his own once again.
They alley was marginally more crowded by regular witches and wizards up for a day of shopping than it had been in the days following the break-in, but the presence of Leos had not decreased at all. Nevertheless, Harry had a fun morning.
He visited the herbalist shop, Mulligrubs Materia Medica, and examined their shelves of readymade potions like Bruise-Be-Gone Paste and Wound Soothing Solution. He considered purchasing some for his Grandad's first-aid kit but didn't since he knew his grandfather had his own supplier. From there he wandered over to Sugarplum's Sweetshop, which had such a varied selection of sweets that even Dudley Dursley would have been tempted to try some of the wizarding confections. Harry bought a spicy Dragon Claw pastry which he munched on for an early lunch as he examined window displays of everlasting candles and ash-banishing incense burners; multi-compartment wizarding trunks and bottomless bags.
Later in the afternoon he made his way to the broomstick shop, Quality Quidditch Supply, the interior of which carried the scent of Broom Wax and the new leather of Quidditch Pads.
Half the shop was devoted to all sorts of merchandise for the both Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland (from the Appleby Arrows to the Wimbourne Wasps) as well as some of the more popular international teams. There were animated figurines of famous Quidditch players, such as the brother beater team of Karl and Kevin Broadmoor, Josef Wronski the inventor of the Wronski Feint, and Gwenog Jones the current captain of the all-female Quidditch Team, the Holyhead Harpies; pennants that shouted the teams' motto intermittently; poster with the usual moving photographs; and even official team robes in both child sizes and for adults.
As he was examining a plushie of Barny the Fruit-bat (the mascot of the Ballycastle Bats) and wondering just what the mascot would be if Midsomer ever got their own team (probably an augury or grimm given the county's phenomenally high murder rate) when the bell above the shop's door chimed as a pair of boys entered.
Carefully returning Barny to the shelf so as to not set off the spell on the plushie that made it shout the toy's slogan ("I'm just batty about Butterbeer!"), Harry watched as the other two boys made a bee line for the other side of the shop where the new Nimbus 2000 was on display. They were the first people near his own age that Harry had seen on their own and outside the protective shadow of their parents all morning. Merlin knew he'd seen plenty of adult witches and wizards muttering about how they weren't going to let their child out on their own with a Dark Wizard on the loose.
Right away the shorter of the two, a broadfaced boy with tightly curled blond hair, spotted Harry and within moments he was dragging his friend over.
"I guess Everett and I weren't the only ones who decided to ditch the parents to look at some racing brooms," said the curly haired boy in lieu of a greeting as he came striding up. "I'm Cormac McLaggen and this is Everett Higgs," he added with a careless wave towards the boy at his side.
Everett Higgs was almost a full head taller than his companion and had floppy brown hair that curled loosely around his ears.
Harry, not wishing to be mobbed again or gawked at like a zoo animal, elected to introduce himself by his first name only. Thankfully neither of the other boys seemed to be all that interested in pressing him for his surname.
"So Harry did you have to sneak out too," pressed Cormac McLaggen.
"No," Harry replied shaking his head. "I've been staying at the Leaky Cauldron."
"Well that makes you braver than Everett's cousin Terence," McLaggen proclaimed. "He wouldn't even come with us to the alley after hearing about the break-in at Gringotts! And he's going to be starting his seventh year at Hogwarts this term! Can you believe it?"
"Of course, he's just a slimy Slytherin," Higgs sneered in disgust. "So you can't expect much bravery out of the likes of him."
"What's wrong with being a Slytherin?" asked Harry, remembering the unpleasant boy from Madam Malkin's and wondering if he was what most of Slytherin House was like.
"'What's wrong with being a Slytherin'," McLaggen shouted, going quite red in the face. "Only everything! The whole House if full of dark tossers and cowards. The lot of them are always trying to sneak around and get the students in Gryffindor in trouble. And that greasy dungeon bat they have for a Head of House just lets them."
"Eh, just leave him Cormac," said Higgs dismissively. "He's not even an ickle firstie yet. He'll learn soon enough."
And with that the pair of them headed over to the Nimbus 2000's display, which they began circling like a pair of sharks. Harry meanwhile turned his attention to the shop's selection of Broomstick Servicing Kits, but he could still hear the other two boys talking wildly about the new Nimbus and what they had read about it in Which Broomstick.
"– from naught to ninety in just under ten seconds!" McLaggen was raving.
"It is an amazing piece of craftmanship, Cormac," Higgs replied as he stared admiringly at the Nimbus's sleek mahogany handle and expertly trimmed tail twigs.
"Exactly! If I had a broom like that Wood would be mad not to sign me up as the new Seeker for Gryffindor," McLaggen boasted. "Not that I couldn't fly rings around that mess they had last term even if I were on one of the school's dodgy old brooms."
"And on your Cleansweep Nine you're sure to be a shoo-in," Higgs added. "I mean they let the Weasley twins join the team last year and they both fly the old Cleansweep Seven. Never mind Bell making the reserve team on one of the school's old Tinderblasts."
Harry couldn't help glancing up from where he had been examining a jar of Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish to look over at the two Gryffindors at this declaration to examine the supposed future Seeker dubiously. Sure, he had only ever read about the game, but he still knew that Seekers were meant to be the smallest and most agile flyers on the Quidditch pitch. McLaggen didn't look to be much older than Harry, but he was already a lot broader and would probably continue to become even more so as he got older. So, unless he was an amazing flyer, he was probably better suited for one of the more defensive positions on the team like a Beater or maybe even Keeper.
Unfortunately, Harry's eyes met McLaggen's overtop the display rack and his opinion must have shown on his face because in an instance a red faced McLaggen was up in his.
"You got something to say, Harry," he ground out. His angry brown eyes raking over Harry hotly taking in his smaller stature and lithe swordsman build and obviously confusing it for a Seeker's build instead. "Oh, let me guess. The ickle firstie thinks he's going to become Gryffindor's new Seeker. Is that it?
"Well, let me lay it on you, Harry," he went on snidely. "First years never make the house team. Heck, they aren't even trusted enough to bring their own broomstick to school. And even if they were allowed there is no way a little fellow like you could even hope to handle a broom like that!"
McLaggen's shouting was enough to attract the attention of the sales wizard behind the counter, who shot him an annoyed look, but he was prevented from having to intervene as a statuesque witch with blonde corkscrew curls burst into the Quidditch shop. She was followed a moment later by another witch with flashing hazel eyes the same shape and shade as Everett Higgs's.
"There you are," the first witch bellowed, marching up to Cormac McLaggen and seizing him by the ear. "How dare you run off like that. And you too, Everett. Your mother and I have been having kneazles thinking some dark wizard had come along and snatched you!"
"Mum! Stop it!" McLaggen whinged, his face turning an even darker shade of red and making him look rather like a curly haired tomato. "I'm not scared of some old, dark wizard!"
Mrs. McLaggen applied a bit more force to her wayward son's ear and began marching him towards the door; giving a rant worthy of an irate Aunt Petunia as she did so.
"You may not be worried about the lunatic that broke into Gringotts, but everybody else with a bit of sense is," she snarled. "And if that won't get through to you then you'd better at least be worried about what sort of punishment your father's going to think up for behaving so irresponsibly! Why I ought to –!"
But whatever else she was going to say was cut off as she, her son, her son's friend, and Mrs. Higgs exited the store and began making their way down the alley. Leaving behind Harry and a pimple faced sales wizard to watch them go through the shop window with bemusement.
Harry didn't see the McLaggens or the Higgses again during his stay, but he did run into Luna Lovegood again on the fifth day.
He was sitting outside Florean Fortescue's when he spotted the silver eyed girl emerging from the ice-cream parlor with an elaborate concoction of pale green ice-cream, whipped cream and red syrup that was spotted with what appeared to be pomegranate seeds.
He watched her for a moment over the top of the copy of Cantrips for the Cantankerous he'd picked up from Flourish and Blotts earlier that morning as she cast her pale gaze about looking for an empty table. He saw her face fall as she realized that there wasn't an empty seat to be found. Today was the busiest day Harry had seen since the break-in, after all.
It was a split-second decision that convinced Harry to call out to her.
"Hey – Luna, right? I've got a free seat here if you'd like it!"
A look of ill-disguised surprise crossed the girl's face; there and gone in an instance.
"Thank you," she murmured as she joined him. "The alley is as crowded as always now that everyone's reasonably sure that the thief won't be returning."
"It's no problem," Harry shrugged, then, because he couldn't help starring at her bizarrely colored confection, asked, "is that any good?"
"Oh, yes," said Luna with a serene smile curling at her lips. "Matcha – green tea powder, that is – with cream and pomegranate sauce is my favorite at the moment."
"I'm a bit partial to the chocolate with cherry sauce right now myself," Harry admitted, feeling a bit less grossed out by her sundae now that he knew it wasn't something like spinach or something equally green and leafy giving her ice-cream its unusual coloring.
For a while they were quiet, each eating their ice-cream, then Luna looked up from her sundae and said, "You're much more down to earth than I was expecting."
"Really," said Harry a bit uncomfortably. It seemed as though everyone in the wizarding world had some sort of preconceived notion about what he would be like. If he were honest, he was getting rather tired of it. "What were you expecting?"
"I don't know," Luna admitted honestly. "Everyone has grown up hearing the story about how you defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and then disappeared into the Muggle world … but you didn't, did you?"
"Didn't what?" he asked.
"Grow up in the Muggle world," she said, peering at him intently and Harry felt as exposed as he had when Mr. Ollivander had been fitting him for his wand. "Or at least not in the way you were expected too – but it's probably for the best that you didn't."
She blinked and the feeling of being a bug pinned to a bit of corkboard ceased.
"So…" began Harry searching for something to say. "I guess you've grown up in the wizarding world then?"
"Yes," said Luna simply.
"Do you know any magic yet?" he asked eagerly.
"Not much. Just a few simple cantrips and a bit of herbology so I can help take care of the dirigible plum tree in the front garden," she replied. "My mum knew a lot about magic though. She was recruited by the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic right out of school."
"Was?" Harry asked, then mentally gave himself a smack. He'd always hated it when people commented on his use of the past tense whenever he talked about his parents and now here he was doing the same thing.
Luna, however, didn't appear bothered by the question.
"Yes," she said softly. "My mum was quite an extraordinary witch, but she did like to experiment, then one day one of her spells went badly wrong. I was nine."
"I'm sorry," said Harry, hoping she didn't misinterpret his words as pity.
"Yes, it was rather horrible," she went on conversationally. "I still feel very sad about it sometimes. But, I've still got Daddy and my grandfather and they try their best."
"What does your father do?" Harry asked, curious about what a wizard that didn't have the Moira determining their future would do once they finished school.
"Daddy's the editor of The Quibbler," she said, sounding a touch defensive for some reason. "He travels a lot to do interviews and such for articles. It's why I'm staying with Grandfather this summer."
Harry nodded in understanding. He knew all too well what it was like to be passed off to another relation while your main caregiver had to go abroad for work. Still, something niggled at him.
"The Quibbler … that's that magazine you were reading while I was getting my wand wasn't it?"
Luna nodded, then leaned down, reached into her bag and pulled out the magazine she had been reading the day before.
"Do you mind if I see it?" Harry asked.
She looked a bit reluctant but slid it across the table to him anyway.
Harry looked over the brightly colored cover for a moment before opening the magazine and scanning the table of contents. Listed were articles with titles such as:
Curse of the Chudley Cannons:
How the Cannons Have Been Reduced to the Losers We Know Now
Merlin Sighting at Stonhenge!
Cornelius Fudge: Incompetent or Corrupt?
Crumple-Horned Snorkack: Illegal Crossbreed or New Species?
Lunar Restaurant: Patrons Say It Has No Atmosphere!
Intrigued, Harry flicked through the magazine to the article on the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge. The article was illustrated with a fairly bad cartoon of someone who was probably supposed to be Minister Fudge. The illustrated face was split down the middle with half of it sneering sinisterly and half of it a picture of befuddlement. The article read:
Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, who was elected earlier this year, is nearly as famous for his lime colored bowler as he is for his questionable approach to policy. While Fudge's platform has always been that he wants nothing more for the wizarding community than "our continued prosperity."
BUT DOES HE?
Since taking office, we have seen a concerning rise in Anti-Muggle sentiment; the largest since You-Know Who began gathering followers twenty-six years ago. About which, Minister Fudge is apparently doing nothing.
Furthermore, sources close to the Minister have recently disclosed that Fudge is not above taking bribes from rumored Death Eaters.
"It happens all the time," said a Ministry insider. "If you could hear him when he thinks no one's listening, he's always talking about the Galleons that have been used to grease his palms…"
The article went on for quite a bit after this, but Harry only skimmed the rest. Taking note that apparently Minister Fudge was keeping his opposition in control through a mixture of blackmail and political hostages being held in Azkaban Prison who would receive the Dementor's Kiss if their family members ever stepped out of line.
Well that escalated quickly, Harry thought as he flicked through the rest of the magazine, pausing ever few pages to read a few lines.
There was an interesting tidbit about how the Chudley Cannons Quidditch Team had been reduced to their place as dead last in the league through a conspiracy of illegal broom-tampering and torture. Then there was another article about a sighting of the famous wizarding figure, Merlin, complete with a fuzzy and indistinct photograph.
"Cool," said Harry returning the magazine to Luna who tucked it away carefully in her bag.
"You don't think it's rubbish then?" Luna probed, a thread of steel entering her normally misty tone.
"Why would I," Harry queried. "I mean just look at the Muggles, they've got no clue at all about the magical world and the things in it … I mean they blame UFOs for people being abducted by the Fae … So who's to say that there aren't things out there such as Crumple-Horned Snorkacks somewhere and only a few people have seen them … And everyone knows Merlin was rumored to have be immortal – how else is he supposed to watch over King Arthur's resting place until it's time for him to return."
The smile that spread across Luna's face was positively blinding.
Apparently not dismissing a person's father's tabloid magazine as outright rubbish earned you not only their eternal friendship but also their insider knowledge of all the best little out of the way places on Diagon Alley. This was never made more apparent than when Harry emerged from his room at the Leaky Cauldron the next morning to find Luna Lovegood waiting for him on the other side of the door.
She wasn't dressed in robes, but rather a pair of faded dungarees and an emerald green blouse with seven-pointed stars embroidered along the collar and cuffs instead. A macramé purse with elaborate beadwork hung off one shoulder while her wand was twisted up in her ash blonde hair like a hairpin.
"Hello Harry, you're running a bit behind this morning," she greeted serenely, while Harry was left floundering.
"Uh, I know I am," he remarked, wondering how she had known he had intended to be up half an hour before. "I accidentally overslept," he added.
Luna merely nodded knowingly.
"The Tea Leave and Thyme Tearoom does elevenses quite well if you're feeling peckish," she confided. "Though I would avoid the sugared butterfly wings if I were you. They were approaching the end of their shelf life the last time I was there." And before he knew what was happening, Harry found himself being led off to one of the side streets of Diagon Alley – Horizont Alley – by Luna Lovegood.
The tearoom was located just past Stowe and Packers Magical Bags and directly opposite an eccentrically-spouting fountain, which had the water jetting from the ears of its statue, which was of a wizard wearing what appeared to be a jelly-fish in place of a hat.
"That's Uric the Oddball," said Luna informatively, pointing at the fountain as they approached it. "He once attempted to prove that the song of the Fwooper was beneficial to the listener, but after listening to one for three solid months he showed up to the Wizards' Council wearing nothing but a toupee that ended up being a dead badger instead when he went to present his findings."
"Huh," was all Harry could say as Luna then tugged him over to the tearoom and led him inside.
Tea Leaves and Thyme seemed to be a comfortable sort of place was Harry's first thought as he surveyed the tearoom's main sitting area which was decorated in muted hues of earth brown and sea green with a dozen or so small circular tables scattered in the free spaces between the seven wooden pillars that ran the length of the room.
However, it was only once they were seated by one of these pillars that Harry saw what the true treasure of Tea Leaves and Thyme was, because each of the seven wooden pillars had been elaborately carved with scenes from The Tales of Beedle the Bard and other wizarding children's stories. Their pillar in particular depicted an old favorite of Harry's The Fountain of Fair Fortune.
While they enjoyed their tea and sandwiches (ham and brie with slices of green apple for Harry and tomato and cheddar with watercress for Luna) Harry discovered that the young witch was actually quite easy to talk to for all that he had found her quite odd on their first meeting. He found himself telling her about what it was like living on the ait, while she told him all about her wizarding neighbors in Ottery St. Catchpole.
"There's three other magical families in my village," she told him. "The Fawcetts who have a pair of daughters who are attending Hogwarts, Sorrell and Sabra. Then there are the Diggorys who have son, Cedric, who will be starting his third year in September. And finally, there are Daddy and I's closes neighbors the Weasleys who have seven children – the oldest two have already graduated and their youngest son should be beginning this year too. Their only daughter Ginny and I have been playmates since we were in nappies, but she's a year younger than me so we won't be starting school together….
"Although," she added softly. "Daddy did consider keeping me home an extra year – after what happened with Mum, you know…? But then Daddy's aunt, Carmenta, wrote saying that she'd Seen me beginning this year and so I am."
"'Seen'," Harry queried, as the seven-pointed stars on Luna's blouse took on new meaning.
"Yes," said Luna serenely (though Harry thought he could hear a touch of pride in her voice as well). "She's a Child of the Clayr – the same as me."
Well, Harry thought. Luna being of the Blood – possibly on both sides of her family if Mr. Ollivander was anything to go by – certainly explains a few things.
Over the next couple days Luna set about showing Harry her favorite shops on both Diagon and Horizont Alley.
On Diagon Alley they visited Noltie's Botanical Novelties where they saw Wardian Cases of Giggle Flowers and Shrinking Violets; pots overflowing the gently swaying tendrils of flitterblooms and cobra lilies; and sacks of bulbs and seed packets lining the walls just waiting to be planted.
While Harry was holding his nose and examining sacks of mooncalf and dragon dung-based fertilizers, Luna was busy purchasing a potted plant made up of a rather unimpressive looking array of tub-like blue-green leaves.
"A new gurdyroot for Daddy," Luna explained as she paid for the plant. "He likes an infusion in the mornings with breakfast and the eelworms got into our last crop."
Then in Gambol and Japes they examined Ever-Bashing Boomerangs, trick wands that turned into root vegetables when waved, nose-biting teacups, and screaming yo-yos.
"I think I'd drive myself mad playing with one of those never mind Grandad," shouted over the ringing in his ears as he returned the shrieking toy back to its shelf.
On Horizont Alley they visited Taliesin's Crystal Shop, which boasted a selection of Seeing Crystals that had been hewn from the Crystal Cave itself (one hundred and fifty galleons a piece for one the size of a child's fist), which were kept under warded lock and key behind the counter.
"An awoken Clayr can See more in frozen water," Luna had murmured dismissively, before dragging him over to the shop's display of Sorcerer's Chimes – totems of healing that looked a lot like a wind chime that had been crafted of rune imbued crystals.
Of which Harry bought a small one of malachite and smoky quartz that Luna said was guaranteed to help keep wrackspurts away – whatever those were.
It was in Concordia and Plunket's Music shop that Harry was able to show off a bit. After all, all necromancers had to be at least a bit musical and as the Abhorsen-in-Waiting Harry was no different. His grandad had taught him how to whistle, to hum, and to sing in a variety of methods that would serve him as a weapon of last recourse if he ever found himself drawn into Death without his panpipes, or some other magical instrument.
In the music shop, however, Harry limited himself to conjuring up a small whirlwind with a whistle made of alder wood. Impressing both the sales witch and Luna with the display.
After which the pair of them spent the rest of their evening sampling selections from albums by Celestina Warbeck the Singing Sorceress, Stubby Boardman and the Hobgoblins, and a new up and coming band, the Weird Sisters.
It was just past noon on the Eighth of August that Harry's grandad arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. A week and a day since Harry's own arrival.
Harry had spent his morning with Luna drifting through the dusty shelves of a second-hand bookshop; skimming through the pages of books like Why I Didn't Die When the Augurey Cried and The Decline of Pagan Magic while Luna made odd clicking noises and whistles under her breath as she all but devoured a book on mermaids by Dylan Marwood.
It was around lunchtime when they finally emerged into the sunlight and began making their way towards the fountain of Ulric the Oddball. Luna with a new book tucked under her arm and Harry with a sneeze that knocked his glasses askew.
"We ought to try Pandora's Bread Box," Harry sniffed as his sun induced sneezing ended. "I overheard someone outside the apothecary say that their gyros are brilliant."
But Luna didn't appear to be listening. Instead she was staring into the water in the fountain's basin with a peculiar look on her face.
Just as Harry was about to tap her on the shoulder to get her attention she blinked, looked up from the water and said, "We should head back to the Leaky Cauldron. There's someone waiting for you."
That someone turned out to be Harry's grandad. Luna had Seen him walking into the pub in the reflection of the water.
The older wizard was not dressed in his dragon-hide armor or surcoat, but instead was wearing his usual garb of a natural wool Aran jumper and sturdy trousers with his large grey greatcoat over top it all. The only allusion to his office as the current Abhorsen was a blue enamel pin on his lapel that sported a pair of crossed silver keys.
To Harry's eyes his grandad looked a bit pale as though he'd spent a fair amount of his time abroad wandering paths far from sunlight, but otherwise seemed to be in good spirits as he swept his grandson into a tight hug the moment he saw him.
Upon his release Harry was quick to do three things: first he asked his grandad how he was and how his trip had been ("Well enough and very long."); then he introduced Luna ("Wonderful to meet you … Garrick has mentioned you in his letters…"); and finally, he returned the moonstone ring, which subtly grew in size so that it would fit upon his grandad's larger finger.
"How has Fea been while I was a way," Grandad asked as he slipped the moonstone ring on to the ring finger of his right hand. If he felt the same rush of magic Harry had when he'd first put the ring on he showed no sign.
"Well she tried to eat Aunt Petunia out of house and home and now she's attempting to work her way through Tom's larder as well even though we both know that she only eats because she likes the taste and not because she actually needs to," Harry reported with a grin.
Dinner that night was a grand affair with Grandad renting out one of the Leaky Cauldron's private parlors so that they could celebrate Harry's belated birthday with style. In attendance were of course: Harry, his grandad, Fea, Luna and Mr. Ollivander, who was escorting his granddaughter.
Mr. Ollivander was blessedly less intense outside the confines of his wand shop even if his need to blink had not increased a bit. He had greeted Harry's grandad with cry of: "Ah, Aster – cypress, twelve and a quarter inches and with the mane-hair of a particularly stout-hearted unicorn that attempted to gore my father when he attempted to harvest it. I'm pleased to see the two of you still traveling together."
To Harry's surprise his grandfather and Mr. Ollivander had apparently attended Hogwarts together; though Mr. Ollivander had been a couple of years ahead of him.
"– however," Mr. Ollivander went on. "I was in the same year as your grandmother, Dorea Black – lovely woman. Her wand was one of my grandfather's creations – red oak with thunderbird feather at its core. Frightfully powerful when used for transfiguration. And its brother went to your father…."
Talk of wands tapered off as they tucked into their dinner and over the course of the evening they managed to eat their way through a delicious four course meal. It began with a wild mushroom soup and salad of spinach and goat cheese; followed a main course of lamb chops with mint and raspberry sauce; and ending with a sumptuous pudding of treacle tart with clotted cream.
Afterwards, while Mr. Ollivander nursed a smoking tumbler of firewhiskey and Grandad and Luna sipped cups of chamomile tea, Harry set about opening his presents.
From Mr. Ollivander he received a wand holster of black dragon-hide that could be fitted to his belt.
"Proper wand care begins with a holster," Mr. Ollivander informed him. "Plus you won't have to worry about blowing your buttocks off keeping it in your back pocket."
Harry almost laughed at the thought, but upon the seeing the serious expressions on the others faces thought better of it. Instead he thanked Mr. Ollivander for his gift and promised to put it to good use.
From Luna he received a copy of Surviving the Dungeon: A Compendium of Common Potions Ingredients and Their Uses by H. B. Prince, which she enigmatically informs him with be very handy over the coming year.
To Harry's further confusion Grandad takes one look at the book's cover before bursting out laughing.
It while wiping tears of mirth from his eyes that his grandad passes him a slim, rectangular box wrapped blue paper. It's surprisingly heavy when Harry's picks it up, but the reason why becomes obvious when he unwraps it.
Inside is a familiar dagger and a single knut. Harry immediately returns the knut to his grandad and lifts the dagger from the box. It's silver-steel blade that Harry knows is awash with sigils of breaking and unbinding is covered by a new sheath of black dragon-hide, but it's the dull, cabochon cut emerald set into the pommel that assures Harry that this is his grandfather's dagger.
"Your mother entrusted it to me many years ago," Grandad informs him gently. His powerful voice rolling like distant thunder. "And I think it's time that it was passed on to you, Harry."
It wasn't until later. After Luna and Mr. Ollivander had left and Harry and his grandad had gone upstairs for the night that Harry thought of something that had been nagging him at the edge of his mind during his entire stay at the Leaky Cauldron.
"Hey Grandad," he began, searching for the proper way of phrasing his question, but in the end, he just asked, "Who is Albus Dumbledore?"
His grandad looked up from where he had been stoking up the fire behind the grate. A pensive expression on his face.
"He's the current headmaster at Hogwarts," the older wizard replied.
"What more than that?" Harry asked.
After all, no mere headmaster could have ordered him placed on his aunt's doorstep or set people to watch him over the years. And it had been years he'd realized once he'd had a chance to think about it. Aside from Dedalus Diggle in his violet colored top hat there had been a wild-looking old woman dressed entirely in green who had bowed to him once in a shop in Little Whinging and then there was the man in black he had seen on occasion whenever he and his Grandad visited the Cokeworth side of the river. He remembered that both the woman in green and the man in black had watched him closely; though the latter had always seemed to vanish if Harry's Grandad was around.
"What makes you think there's more to the man than that," Grandad countered and Harry told him about what he had learned from Hagrid and Aunt Petunia. About how he had been left on the doorstep of number four Privet Drive and how Dumbledore had sent the "Old Crowd" to check up on him.
Grandad hummed for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. He drew his cypress wand from within his greatcoat, swung it in a wide arch above his head like a lasso and said, "Impermeus."
There was a brief flash and suddenly the door and the window, as well as the fire place and even the mirror were coated in a clingfilm-like layer of shimmering spell-light that didn't seem as though it were going to dissipate anytime soon.
"Imperturbable Charm," Grandad explained. "Quite useful for when you don't wish to be overheard."
"And we don't want to be overhead, why?" Harry questioned as his grandad set his wand aside.
"Because Dumbledore has eyes and ears everywhere, Fledgling," Fea croaked down at him from her place atop the wardrobe. "I wouldn't even hold a conversation in front of one of his Chocolate Frog Cards if I wanted to keep it secret."
"What I'm about to tell you isn't widely known, Harry," Grandad informed him, moving to sit at the foot of the bed, then motioning for Harry to take a seat as well.
"Aside from his position as Headmaster at Hogwarts, Dumbledore holds three more positions of power in the wizarding world but only two of them are known," his grandad explained, "The first is that of Chief Warlock, the person that presides over the Wizengamot, the Wizarding High Court in Britain. While the second is that of Supreme Mugwump, which is the head of the Wizards Council – the Wizards Council being the ruling body of the International Confederation of Wizards…"
That, thought Harry, is a lot of power for one person to have….
He knew that as the current Abhorsen his Grandad held one of the other seven seats on the Wizards Council, but he hadn't known any of the council members by name – only by title.
"Is he going to run for Minster for Magic next," he wondered aloud, only half joking.
Grandad shook his head.
"If you ask Dumbledore he'll say he's content with his position as Hogwarts's Headmaster," he replied neutrally, but Fea scoffed. ("As if holding the central seat of power for the genius loci of Hogwarts Castle is a trifling matter," she rasped, Saraneth chiming lowly at her ankle.) Grandad seemed to ignore her, but Harry filed the information away for later.
"However, it is Dumbledore's relatively unknown position as the Leader of the Order of the Phoenix that enables him to contract other members of the Order – his 'Old Crowd' – to check up on you every now and again, Harry," Grandad went on.
"Did you know about them, then," Harry questioned and an almost pained look crossed his grandad's face.
"Yes, but Severus (your man in black) is the only one I've ever had much contact with," he said. "They're a necessary annoyance. They report back to Dumbledore that you're well and whole and he buggers off about the fact that the Boy Who Lived is being raised as the Abhorsen-in-Waiting … something that he tried very hard to prevent when he attempted to place you with Petunia."
"What?" Harry exclaimed. "But why?"
A sardonic grin spread across his grandad's face, his green eyes appearing suddenly very tired and very old.
"That is something I've never quite known," he admitted. "Perhaps it is because he knows how the wizarding world views our line as something to be feared – a necessary evil at best and little better than those we oppose at worse – and he wished to spare you that… Or perhaps he had his own plans for you and I threw a gremlin into the works when I claimed you … I don't really know….
"What I do know," he went on. "Is that Dumbledore is a schemer and a planner who will sacrifice almost anything for what he believes to be the greater good of the wizarding world. He isn't an evil man, Harry, but a very driven one. And it is always best to be wary of being drawn into his schemes if he ever takes an interest in you…."
As he turned into bed that night Harry was left wondering about the grubby little package that been removed from Gringotts on Dumbledore's orders and the fact that he had been allowed to know of its existence at all. Was he already caught up in one of Dumbledore's plots? And if so – to what end?
A.N.: Yes, I decided to change Luna's age by a year. In my defense J.K. Rowling never gave us a concrete date for her birthday until after all the books were written and I thought it was well within the realm of possibility that Xenophilius decided to hold Luna back a year because of the trauma of having seen her mom die.
Other characters whose age I've messed with are Charlie Weasley and Mr. Ollivander. Charlie I've made a year older as well, because it give a bit more time for the whole "we haven't won the quidditch cup since he's left" thing. And as for Mr. Ollivander it's because I read the year wrong on the Harry Potter wiki page and I'd already built up the back story of him and Harry's grandad being at Hogwarts around the same time before I went back and spotted my mistake.
In other news things seem to be returning to normal around here (*knock on wood*) so the next chapter should be up sometime within the next month. As always comments are welcome.