Harry Potter and the Power of Time
Chapter 6 - Muggle London
Harry spent what must have seemed like hours weeping over his poor pet owl, who'd died to protect him, but it was really only about five minutes. Hedwig's body was still warm and bloody, and still wrapped in the robes Harry would never wear again. She laid upon a bed in the room Harry had rented earlier that day, still surrounded by a pool of her own blood. Harry was beginning to lose it. His sanity. Too many people were dying trying to save his life, and Harry just wanted it to stop. Seemingly random thoughts were crossing his mind, a way to distract himself from Hedwig. Not realizing what he was saying, Harry started mumbling about having to replace the ruined sheets for Tom.
Harry had been caressing Hedwig's neck when she had died, and his hand still remained there. "Maybe I'm not ready?" Harry thought. "Maybe I'm not ready to take on Voldemort? If a single street mugger can do this, what's to stop a pack of Death Eaters from doing worse? And why is Hedwig getter warmer?"
Although he had seen a few dead bodies, Harry had never actually touched one before. Cedric didn't count, because Harry was scrambling to stay alive at the time. But he had seen enough television to know that dead bodies were supposed to lose heat after death, not get warmer. So why was Hedwig's body starting to burn up? That's the thought that brought Harry out of his stupor. Hedwig was almost uncomfortable to the touch, and soon Harry wouldn't even be able to do that.
Harry stood up slowly from his kneeled position, and let go of Hedwig as he backed away. The physical distance seemed to distance him emotionally as well, and he forgot for the moment about his owl dying. Instead he concentrated on why a dead body was heating up, and quickly at that. He didn't have much time to think though, because the robes and sheets surrounding Hedwig's body soon began to smoke and char.
Harry didn't want to start a fire, so he ran to the small sink in his room to fill a glass with water. By the time he'd returned to his bed, Hedwig's body was now sizzling, and small flames began to form around it.
Harry was shocked once more, and thought the fire was some unknown side effect from the Reductor curse. While he pondered this, he forgot about the glass of water in his right hand. Another minute later, the whole bed was smoking, and the owl's body was completely engulfed in flames. Harry remembered the glass of water, and doused the bed with it, but it was too late for that. The water seemed to steam and evaporate before it even hit the flames.
Harry backed away from the bed even farther, and cast a water charm around the bed, to thoroughly soak the wood and carpets on the floor. Harry had no idea what was going on, but he didn't want to be responsible for Tom's bar being burnt down either. And that's when Harry heard it, right after finishing his water charm and backing away into the farthest corner possible. It was a sound he had heard before; a sound that had filled his heart with hope.
It was Phoenix Song! Harry looked towards the window expecting to see Fawkes, but the window was closed. He then looked to the door, but it too was shut. All this time the phoenix song was getting louder and more steady. Harry listened closer to it, and realized it wasn't coming from outside the room. It wasn't even coming from Fawkes. It was coming from his burning bed!
The flames had thoroughly burnt through the bed sheets and mattress by now, and nothing was left but a charred pile of ashes. The water charm Harry had used prevented the rest of the room from going up in flames, and Harry silently thanked the little Professor Flitwick for teaching him. The only sources of fire now were the small flames centered on the pile of ashes, right where Hedwig had been. The flames were a brilliant red, with yellow and gold flickers spread throughout. As the phoenix song reached its crescendo, in an almost deafening volume, the flames flared up even brighter, and hotter. There was a pure white in the middle of the red now, and the red began to diminish.
Then there was a loud explosion, and the flames erupted in a fiery blaze. The phoenix song let out one last loud note, and then stopped. Harry had had to cover his eyes when the explosion happened, and when he uncovered them a moment later, the room was filled with smoke. He could still hear the last note of the beautiful phoenix song, but it faded to a low whisper as the smoke cleared. Soon Harry could make out objects in his room. The window that was previously closed had blown out with the explosion of flames. The smoke was rolling out into the night sky, and letting in a cool breeze. That's when Harry saw the most wonderful thing that could have happened to him that day.
"Hedwig? Is that you?" Harry barely uttered through his tears. He was excited, relieved, nervous, and extremely happy all at the same time. Sitting on the bed's pile of ashes, just able to be seen through the thinning smoke, was a brilliant Phoenix, pure white with red and gold tail feathers. She was a bit smaller than Fawkes was, but had a larger wingspan, and a slightly straighter beak. It seemed Hedwig hadn't died after all.
Hedwig flew to Harry's shoulder, and perched there just as she had so many times before. She trilled an answer to Harry that he seemed to understand. "Yes it's me, and I'm glad to see him too!"
Harry completely lost it then, bawling his eyes out as he grabbed his long time companion in a rough hug. Hedwig spoke a word of surprise, but gave in to the death grip. The two friends stayed like that for an eternity, as Harry cried his happiness and Hedwig soothed her master with the calming power of a phoenix.
The bed was gone, but Harry didn't care. He conjured a small pillow and laid down on the floor, with Hedwig in the crook of his arms. The phoenix's calming influence helped coax Harry to sleep after a very eventful day, and soon Harry fell into the best sleep of his life.
The next morning Harry woke at nine o'clock, after a bit of a lay in. His sleepy mind had forgotten some of the details of the previous night, and his first thought was "Why am I on the floor?"
A quick glance at the non-existent bed brought all of Harry's memories slamming forward, and he panicked as he glanced around the room. Hedwig was nowhere in sight, and Harry was afraid he had dreamt the whole episode. But almost as if she could sense Harry's fears, Hedwig appeared a moment later in the broken window, and landed on the back of a chair off to the side of the room.
"Morning girl! I was afraid there for a moment." Harry told his new, but yet old phoenix.
Hedwig trilled a greeting, sang a few notes, and Harry was surprised at how well he understood what the bird was trying to say. He'd always had a special connection with Hedwig, but as an owl, he had only reacted to her attitude and instincts. As a phoenix, Hedwig seemed almost capable of speech, and Harry thought he knew exactly what she said. She had said, "It's about time you got up. You have a lot to do today. And don't forget to see Tom about the bed!"
Harry smiled and said, "You're absolutely right. I think from now on girl, I'll be listening to what you have to say a lot more than I used to."
Hedwig trilled an "It's about time!" and flew back out the window. Harry supposed she was hunting or just taking a look around, and he started to get ready for his day. A quick shower later, Harry crawled into a spare change of muggle clothes he had packed in Dudley's old bag. He'd be buying more today, and soon would be rid of the cast offs forever. As he put his bag back into his expanded trunk, Harry realized that he could have spent the night in the luxurious bedroom, rather than on the hard floor. He'd have to remember that for later. Harry had planned on getting a few things for his bedroom at Privet Drive for the summer, but thought now he could spend all his time in his new trunk instead.
On his way out the door, all clean and ready for the new day, Hedwig once again reappeared in the window, and flew to Harry.
"Sorry girl," Harry apologized, "but you can't come with me today. I'm going into muggle London, and I don't think too many people have seen a phoenix. Think you can keep an eye on me from the sky?"
Hedwig nodded an agreement, and flew out the window for a third time that morning. Harry left the room himself, locked the door behind him, and went downstairs to tell Tom the bad news about his room.
"Morning there Harry, how'd you sleep?" Tom greeted Harry loudly. Harry was a bit nervous about his name being shouted across the room, but few turned to look at him. The few that did saw a muggle kid in a black ski cap with brown eyes, and turned away soon enough.
"Fine Tom, fine. That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. You see, er, I had a little trouble with my bed last night." Harry didn't know what else to say.
Tom was surprised. He took great pride in his lodgings. "Sorry about that, I don't know what could have been the trouble. I'll move your room for tonight if you like."
Harry didn't want to inconvenience the man, and was surprised no one had complained about all the noise in the late evening. "No Tom, nothing was your fault. I'll be back in a few hours, and was wondering if you could have a look at the bed while I'm gone. You'll see the problem. If you can fix it, then great. If not, then let me know. Either way I owe you some money for repairs."
Tom nodded a confused confirmation, and Harry left the muggle entrance for day two of his shopping spree.
Just like yesterday, Harry had a list of items he wanted to get while out, and the rest of the time he would spend browsing. The list was short compared to the items he needed in Diagon Alley, but was important nonetheless. The first thing Harry needed was a complete new wardrobe. After five years away for school, Harry was tired of trying to hide his fat cousin's old clothes, and wondered why he hadn't bought new muggle clothes before. He needed shirts, pants, shorts, underwear, shoes, sweaters, socks (that matched) and some clothes to sleep in.
The second and final item on Harry's list was to begin looking for a new place to live. Now that he could do magic, he had no intention of living at the Dursleys' much longer. Just a few weeks, till he learned how to properly protect himself. And living in the muggle world would be a lot safer than with other wizards. He could hide among the large population of London, and still be close to Diagon Alley and the wizarding world. Living in Surrey might be safer according to Dumbledore, but it was a two hour car ride to the Leaky Cauldron. Harry hoped today to find someplace close by, so that he'd have access to both worlds.
So Harry set off down the street, keeping an eye open for men's stores that would have clothing his size. Harry had thought about going to a shopping mall, but was worried about getting carried away with the dozens of stores they had. There'd be time enough for that later, but right now Harry wanted to find a simple single store with nice enough clothing options. Luckily for him Charing Cross Road was in a popular shopping district, and Harry found a nice looking department store soon enough. The men's department was on the ground level, and had a lot of expensive looking clothes. Harry looked for a boys department, but there didn't seem to be any. "So I'll just have to do with this," Harry thought.
He was looking through a pile of knit sweaters a few moments later when a gentleman approached him and asked, "Is there something I can help you with young man? And please, try not to disrupt the display."
Not caring for the man's attitude, Harry replied that he was just browsing, and the man left with a grunt and disappeared around the corner.
"Sorry about my uncle," a girl said out of nowhere. "He did get me this job for the summer, but he's a bit mean."
Harry turned back to the sweater display to see who had spoken to him, and took in the young lady's appearance. She looked to be about twenty, with soft curls of blonde hair gently framing her face. She had light blue eyes of a color Harry knew was called corn silk, and they were very pleasant looking. Just a bit shorter than Harry, she wasn't overly thin, but by no means heavy either. She had a "feminine" body type that was very curvy and soft. She reminded Harry of a Hufflepuff, and he greeted "Becky" as her name tag identified her. Harry thought she'd be far more help than her mean spirited uncle.
"Don't worry about it," Harry replied, "he's got nothing on my uncle. Now, that man is a complete git."
The girl laughed in a cute way, and covered her mouth with both hands. "I wouldn't say something so bad about my uncle, but I know what you mean. We work off commission, and he probably didn't like your look, so left on purpose. Sorry about that."
Harry smiled and took out his new credit card to show the girl. "Then this is your lucky day. I need a complete wardrobe, and the only clothes I presently own are the rags I'm wearing. Money's no option, and I'll leave you to make all the decisions."
Harry figured Amber at Madam Malkin's had done such a good job with his robes, that he'd let this attendant pick out his news clothes as well. Becky's eyes opened wide as Harry spoke, and looked around the empty store before speaking to Harry again.
"Are you serious? A complete wardrobe?" At Harry's nod, she smiled, but then frowned as realization hit her. "I'll have to go get my uncle then. He handles all the large accounts." Harry assured her that he would refuse her uncle's help and would walk out the store if she went to get him. So, what was a girl to do? She began to giggle again, and Harry smiled back at her as she ran to grab a measuring tape to begin work.
Much like at Madam Malkin's, Harry stood still while the girl took his measurements, but this time neither of them blushed. Becky was very professional, and set Harry at ease. He described the types of clothes and colors he was interested in, but also told Becky she could experiment a little if she wanted. After ten minutes of discussion, she left to go pick out some outfits while Harry sat in a nice armchair and enjoyed some complimentary tea. It wasn't the breakfast tea he was used to, but something a bit more exotic. Harry searched through the drawers on the tea service cart to find the tea box, and the blend was identified as "Mutan White Tea." Harry filed the reference for future use; he really enjoyed it. It was another ten minutes before Becky came back with an armful of clothes, and set about organizing the piles in the private dressing room Harry occupied.
More than two hours later Harry tried on the last piece of clothing Becky had picked out for him. It was a black leather jacket, which had a satin stitched interior that felt good to the touch. It wasn't anything like what motorcycle riders would wear, but looked more like a fashion model's jacket. Harry liked it, and it was the first real jacket he'd owned. Not even Dudley's cast offs had been poor enough for Harry to wear in the past, and during the cold winter months he'd been forced to layer up with as many shirts and jumpers as he could find.
In the end Harry had ended up with clothes enough for two people, and Becky had ended with a commission rich enough to last her the rest of the month. Harry had bought five pairs of jeans. The ones he liked were baggy and comfortable. The ones Becky liked were straight cut and tapered. Four pairs of corduroys were added to the pants pile, and another four pairs of assorted khakis. Although he didn't know if he'd ever need them, Becky also convinced him to buy a few pairs of dress slacks, made of a wool blend. She said he could wear them if he ever went out on a date, and Harry had laughed at her. She didn't know about his dating history, or she would have suggested a waterproof option.
Harry only bought a few tee shirts, all in assorted colors, because Becky said he was too old to be wearing them daily. He also bought five tank tops to workout in. He'd be taking up running and other exercises that summer, and needed some workout clothes. Most of the shirts he purchased were button up long sleeved, but he also had a few solid colored polos. His favorite shirt by far was corduroy, vertically stripped in different earth tones, and had beige patches on the elbows. It was a heavyweight shirt, but looked wicked with a pair of dark jeans.
Two sweatshirts, and a few sweaters were added, but none had the personal flavor of the Weasley family jumper he got every Christmas, so Harry only bought a minimal amount. He also got a light windbreaker, and a heavier cloth jacket that was water resistant. It wasn't a true raincoat, but it would do.
Becky smiled at Harry when she asked him, "Boxers or Briefs?" and he laughed back when he answered boxers. Becky didn't stay in the room when Harry held these up to him in front of the mirror, but they looked the right size, so he took fourteen pair. Becky insisted that half be made of silk. Harry didn't know what the difference was, so just shrugged his shoulders.
Harry had never been much of a shorts man, because he liked to hide his bony legs, but he had to get some for workout purposes. The five he bought were a light nylon material, and had zipped pockets so items wouldn't fall out while exercising. He also got two pair of sweatpants for when the weather turned colder.
The sleepwear Becky brought to Harry he liked immediately. They were solid silk pajamas, all long sleeved, and they all fit comfortably. Harry picked out a green, crimson, and black pair.
He'd never owned a proper pair of shoes before, also being Dudley's old things, so Harry treated himself with his footwear. He bought two pairs of sneakers, one for training and one for whenever. A pair of hiking boots he got for when the snow fell, because they were waterproof. Two pairs of dress shoes, a fuzzy pair of slippers, three pairs of loafers, and a comfortable pair of Birkenstocks later, and Harry's feet were looking good.
A few belts, an assortment of socks, and a few odds and ends later, Harry had all his purchases packed up and ready to go. They took up seven huge bags, and had cost over 3,000 pounds (750 galleons), but Harry finally had some clothes of his own to wear. He told Becky to burn the ones he'd worn in, and stepped out of the dressing room in a pair of jeans and a blue polo shirt, wearing his Birks. Becky thanked Harry for giving her the sale instead of her uncle, and Harry told her he only hoped her uncle had learned a lesson in how to treat people.
Before he exited the store Harry ducked into a bathroom, and added his purchases to his tiny trunk. These went into the second compartment, because he didn't feel like cramming them into the first. Once the trunk returned to its small size, Harry slipped it into a back pocket, and it looked like a pack of cigarettes. With the first of two chores done already, Harry set out once again to find a new place to live.
The next two hours Harry had spent wondering around London, never straying too far from Charing Cross Road. He asked a few people on the street if they knew of a nearby residential area, but Harry got little help. Lunch time approached in no time, and Harry found a Fish & Chips shop on a nearby street corner. He still had a few coins and single pound notes left from yesterday morning, and spent the rest of his money on lunch. Harry ordered a double portion, and dashed a liberal amount of malt vinegar into his newspaper cone. It had been years since Harry had had the greasy food, and he promised himself he'd talk to Hogwarts' house elves about adding it to the school menu. That thought brought forth a whole new idea which was even better, and Harry decided to send out a letter to Dobby later. If his new thought worked out for him, Harry would have a much easier summer than he thought.
The man working the fish counter had told Harry of a new apartment building that was opening a few streets away, so that's where Harry set off for after he tossed the greasy newspaper in a trash bin. A few streets turned out to be seven, a bit farther than he would have liked, but it didn't matter. There was a tube entrance less than a block away from the apartment building, so Harry figured that would make up for the extra distance.
The apartment building was four weeks away from completion, according to a construction sign. There was a manager working the lower office to show off models, but no units were available for rent yet. Harry thought he'd look anyways, as he was already there. Besides, Harry had already promised himself he'd spend a few weeks living at the Dursley's until he learned some protective magic.
The woman manager was alone in her office when Harry entered. He asked about the apartments available and if he could see one. The manager gave the young boy the odd look Harry had come to love, and led the way to the single elevator. The finished floor, the second, was the floor with the completed models on them. The woman explained that the middle levels weren't decorated yet, and the topmost levels were still stripped down to the studs. It was as the lady went to push the second floor elevator button that Harry had a brilliant idea. He wanted to think about it some more, so Harry pushed it into the back of his mind.
The apartment tour was rather quick, as Harry mostly ignored the woman, and she became rather impatient with him. It ended up being a nice three bedroom/two bath living space, but Harry had other things on his mind. The idea he'd had in the lift was growing out of control, and Harry couldn't help but laugh at how perfect it would be if it all worked out. A quick lift ride down to the first floor, and Harry almost ran from the building looking for a quiet place to sit and think.
It was pure luck that Harry had liked the first place he'd been shown. He had no real idea what type of place he expected to find, or how much he'd have to pay rent, but it didn't matter now. The idea Harry had had would let him live rent free if he could figure out the logistics.
You see, while in the lift, Harry had noticed the elevator buttons were numbered one through twenty one; one button for each floor of the building. At first Harry didn't notice it, but soon enough he remembered that his uncle's office building had a lift different than this one. His uncle's office building had one less button inside the elevator. The button for the thirteenth floor was missing.
You see, an old superstition caused a lot of builders to skip over the thirteenth floor. That's why many old office buildings and apartment complexes, like the one Grunnings was in, purposely labeled the thirteenth floor fourteen, and skipped over that number in the elevator. It was thought to be unlucky to live on the thirteenth floor, so people for years just called it the fourteenth. In fact, there are buildings all over the world that are actually one floor shorter than people actually think.
But Harry had noticed that this building, because it's so new, didn't skip over the thirteenth floor in the lift. And the only person who knew about it was the apartment manager! There were no tenants yet, and the builders would soon leave, so who else was to know? If Harry could somehow figure out how to hide the thirteenth floor, and then memory charm the apartment manager, he could have the whole floor to himself! And no one would be suspicious that the lift skipped over the thirteenth floor, because it was such common practice!
Harry smiled as he walked back towards the Leaky Cauldron. It was a brilliant idea, but would take a lot of planning, and some serious use of magic. If the building opened in four weeks, Harry would want to be moved in beforehand, so as not to take any chances. If he studied hard, and used the time tuner the way he'd planned, Harry would have over two months to study before he would have to move. "Two months to wipe a few memories and hide an entire floor," Harry thought. "Piece of cake!"
Harry hurried back quickly. He made just three more stops before reaching the muggle entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.
The first stop was in a hair salon, where he paid someone sixteen pounds to tell him his hair was hopeless. The only way to prevent it from sticking up was either to shave it all off, or grow his hair out long, and tie it back. Since Harry had time to think about it, he left it the way it was, naturally unruly, and left the store.
The second stop he made was in a gym he passed by with large glass windows. He pretended like he was inquiring about a membership, and a personal trainer showed him around. The trainer spent an hour showing Harry what each piece of equipment did, and how to correctly work each muscle group. He also explained the difference between working up muscle mass, and toning and strengthening muscles for endurance and flexibility. It was all very interesting to Harry, and he thought he might be able to use the information to get into better shape in time for Quidditch season.
That was, if the life long ban on him was ever lifted. The thought of Quidditch and Umbridge only reminded Harry that his Firebolt was still missing, and he'd either have to get it back or replace it. The broomstick was very important to Harry, because it had been a gift from Sirius, and Harry decided to get it back at all costs. He even decided to buy a replacement broom anyways, because he didn't feel like using Sirius' present ever again. If it broke, like his Nimbus had, Harry would never forgive himself.
The third and final store Harry entered before the Leaky Cauldron was a large sporting goods store. In true Slytherin fashion, Harry had decided to purchase some weight equipment so he could train himself. He'd already planned on it when he went to the gym a few moments ago to get some tips of working out. That way he didn't have to pay the high membership rates of a fitness club, and he could workout whenever he felt like. He picked out two machines, and some free weights. The first machine was multi-purpose, and had adjustable weights up to three hundred pounds able to work a variety of muscle groups. Harry also purchased a treadmill, of the non-electrical variety. The treadmill would most certainly be placed in his magic trunk, and Harry knew that electronics didn't work in the magical atmosphere of Hogwarts. The model wasn't too advanced being a manual treadmill, but all Harry really needed it for was running. Especially in the winter months, there would be no way that Harry could run around the castle grounds.
After paying for the purchases with his credit card, and filling out a form to have them delivered to the Dursley's the next afternoon, Harry walked out into the street and soon crossed into the seedy tavern he was so fond of. Immediately people turned to look at him, and started to whisper.
"Damn!" Harry inwardly swore. He'd thrown away the ski cap that had been hiding his scar the past two days, and he'd changed his eyes back to their natural color when he went clothes shopping. And now he was in plain view of at least thirty witches and wizards, all who would know he'd been in Diagon Alley now. This somewhat ruined Harry's plans.
Harry continued to berate himself as he made his way over to Tom. Harry decided to do the short business he had in Diagon Alley as quickly as possible, and then return home.
"Hey Tom. I'm sorry but I won't be staying tonight like I thought I would. Hope that's not a problem. Any luck with the bed?" Harry was still the center of attention, and wanted to leave as soon as possible.
"Harry, yes, the bed," Tom replied. "For the life of me I can't figure out what happened. All my beds are fireproof, it's the law you see. I can't imagine what could have been hot enough to burn through the fireproofing charms."
Harry decided to play dumb. "I don't know. When I came back late last night, the bed was already like that. I was so tired I just slept on the floor using my robes as a pillow."
"Don't matter much Harry. The bed's already been replaced, just can't figure out what happened. And don't worry about not staying tonight; you'll just have to make up for it some other time. Anything else I can do for you?"
Harry was about to say no, but then picked up two cases of butterbeer bottles to add to his trunk. They might be a nice little treat for later. Harry paid Tom and left, once again stepping into the back alleyway which led to Diagon Alley.
It wasn't yet three o'clock, so Harry couldn't pick up his robes at Madam Malkin's. Deciding to kill some time, he returned to Gringotts and personally requested Griphook. The goblin had been so helpful yesterday; Harry wanted to keep him around.
Griphook was pleased to see Harry again, and the bank managers were impressed that Harry Potter had specifically asked for an employee. Harry gave the manager a good word, saying that Griphook had been most helpful in the past. A few seconds later, they entered a mine cart and took off.
The bank manager had no idea that Harry wasn't heading for Vault 1295, but vault number thirty seven instead. Harry still didn't have much time to carefully look around, but he did add all the books he found to his magic trunk. He'd sort through them later; he just wanted access to them now. Harry also thought about taking some of the weapons or furniture, but decided not to. He already had a dagger to use, and had no place for all the furniture yet.
After another visit to the Muggle Exchange desk, this time for some cash, Harry left Gringotts with still about ten minuets to three. With more time to kill, Harry headed to the one shop he had purposely skipped the day before. He hadn't had a plan then, but after the events of last night, Harry thought he might not need one.
Harry entered the dusty shop, with the single wand box on an old and torn purple pillow, and a small bell rang as the door closed behind him. The shop was identical to the way it looked five years ago.
"Ahhh, Mr. Potter. To what do I owe the please of your visit? Nothing wrong with you wand I hope?" Mr. Ollivander was just as creepy as ever.
"No sir, my wand's fine," Harry replied.
"Yes, it is," he stated. "Holly wood with a particularly strong phoenix feather, eleven inches I believe. Are you interested in some wand polish perhaps then?"
"No, I actually came on another matter. I know it's not legal, but I need another wand." Harry had decided to be as blunt as possible in speaking with the ancient man. He'd also try to use his celebrity status if he could; it seemed to work fine the day before.
"Why Mr. Potter," Mr. Ollivander asked, "would you need another wand if you still have your original?"
"Because of its brother wand; because of Voldemort," Harry answered and watched the man flinch at Voldemort's name, but Mr. Ollivander nodded an understanding.
"Tell me sir," Harry continued, "were you ever told about the events of last June concerning our two wands.
Mr. Ollivander's eyes lit as he answered in the negative. He might not be comfortable talking about Voldemort, but Ollivander was a lifelong student of wand making, and wanted to hear about the two brother wands meeting.
So Harry told him. It was an abbreviated version of the story that glanced over Cedric's death and didn't name any of the Death Eaters, but Harry was sure to include every detail he could remember about Voldemort's duel. Harry told about the spells connecting, and the golden cage that formed around them. Harry told the old man about the phoenix song, and how he and Voldemort were lifted off the ground as they fought for control over the other. And Harry told about how he'd forced the beads of light into Voldemort's wand, and how it regurgitated the last few spells cast by it.
Twenty minutes later when Harry was done with his tale, Ollivander's eyes were glazed with amazement. He was an old man, and even now only rarely left his shop to procure new wand cores. Most of his time was spent cataloging his current supply, and selling wands to eager young children on their way to Hogwarts. That's why Ollivander enjoyed the tale so much. Because not only did it focus on two wands of his making, but it was quite an exciting tale by itself.
"So that's why I need another wand, you see," Harry explained. "I've met Voldemort four times already, and I can't defend myself against him properly. Next time we meet, I want to have a surprise waiting."
Mr. Ollivander paused and thought about Harry's request for awhile. If he said no, then Harry didn't know what he would do. Luckily Ollivander answered in the affirmative.
"All right Mr. Potter, I'll let you purchase a new wand, but only because you'll have to use it against You-Know-Who." He continued, "The problem is finding another suitable wand. I remember you being a very tricky customer, and the phoenix that provided your wand core did not donate a third feather. It may take some time to find a suitable replacement, and even then it might not work as well."
Harry had already though about this. "Actually sir, I was wondering if I could provide my own wand core?"
Ollivander seemed surprised at the request, as he'd not often been asked to custom make a wand. "I suppose you could Mr. Potter, but it would be extremely difficult to get your hands on suitable core material. I only work with unicorn hairs, dragon heartstrings, and phoenix tail feathers, and each of those creatures are most difficult to find. Basilisk fangs, griffin fur, and wyvern scales I don't even try to procure. Basilisks are much too dangerous, and griffins and wyverns are almost extinct, and live on other continents. Most other magical creatures aren't nearly powerful enough to make decent wands from. I think you'll have better luck just sampling some of my wands."
Harry smiled to himself. "Want to bet," he told Ollivander. "Hedwig, are you around?"
A short second later, in a burst of white and golden flames, Hedwig appeared out of thin air and alighted on Harry's shoulder. Harry petted his girl under her chin, and smiled at the astounded look on Mr. Ollivander's face. "Would a phoenix feather do?"
It took a second for Mr. Ollivander to remember to close his mouth, but he got it working soon after. "Mr. Potter, where did she come from? I've never seen a white phoenix before? And I've seen my fair share of them."
"She's been nearby," Harry informed Ollivander, "and she's rather new in the neighborhood. I don't want to say too much yet, but I'm pretty sure she'd be willing to donate a tail feather." Harry addressed Hedwig now. "How about it girl, would you help me out?"
Hedwig simply nodded and rose off Harry's shoulder. She flapped her wings and hovered for a moment, and then shook her lower body until a tail feather came loose and fluttered to the shop counter. The feather was about seven inches long, and was colored not just a solid red, like Fawkes', but was red and gold together.
"Thank you girl. I'll have to treat you to something special," Harry praised his friend.
Mr. Ollivander at this point had picked up the tail feather and was now studying it closely. If he wasn't shocked before, he most certainly was now.
"Mr. Potter! Do you know how young this phoenix is? In all my years, I've never seen such a young specimen! I'd say she's only a few years old, maybe not more than ten!"
Harry, not being a wand maker himself, didn't know how Mr. Ollivander knew Hedwig was a young phoenix, nor did he know why it was such a big deal that she was. So he asked Mr. Ollivander why he was so excited.
"You see Mr. Potter, "he explained, "the area around the quick of the feather has certain markings that tell the age of the phoenix; like rings on a rattlesnake. And the younger a phoenix is, the more powerful the wand core its feather makes. It's for the same reason multiple feathers given by the same bird lessen a wand's power. You see, all feathers of a phoenix are tied to its life force. And at such a young age, that force is naturally extremely powerful. And multiple feathers would have to share the phoenix's life force. That's why your wand is so powerful and unusual Mr. Potter. It only has one brother wand, where most phoenixes who donate feathers for wands usually give at least five."
"Well," Harry couldn't help but laugh as he told the man information that he expected would give him a heart attack, "you'll be happy to know then that Hedwig here has never given another feather before, and she's less than a day old to boot."
As if to rub in the fact, Hedwig nodded in agreement and let out a short trill.
And as if in astonishment, old man Ollivander keeled over and slumped into a chair.
He didn't faint per se, but he did start to hyperventilate and shake uncontrollably. Harry asked if he was all right, and got a trembling answer that "yes he was," Ollivander just needed a minute.
In the end Ollivander agreed to make Harry his new wand. He was about to suggest different wood types, but decided to stick with Holly. The combination had worked once before, so it would probably work again. Ollivander informed him it would take a week to craft the wand, and that he would owl it to Harry when it was completed. When Harry asked the price, Ollivander just shook his head.
"I wouldn't dream of charging you to be able to work with such a specimen. If you insist, you could just cover the cost of the wood, but that's not really important. I would like to ask however, if I would be able to have another feather from your beautiful phoenix. She's such a powerful bird; I'd love to craft another wand." Harry didn't blame Ollivander in his request.
But he wouldn't grant it either. If it was true about a wand's powers lessening when the core creature gave more than one feather, Harry couldn't take that chance.
"I'm sorry Mr. Ollivander, but I can't grant you that. I'm sure you understand, but I need all the power I can get in preparing for my fight." Ollivander nodded an understanding. "I may be able to provide you with something else however. Tell me, if a basilisk was deceased for a few years, would the fangs still be viable as a wand core?"
Ollivander's ears perked up at this, and started to breath heavy again. "Yes they would Mr. Potter. It's the actual venom that resides within each fang that provides the magical focus. The fangs are ground into a powder, and then heated until liquid, and poured into the wand chamber. As the teeth aren't living cells, they shouldn't be affected by death. Why do you ask though? There hasn't been a known dead basilisk for almost thirty years."
Harry laughed. "Again Mr. Ollivander, I regret to inform you that you've missed out on another of my stories. In my second year, I fought and killed a basilisk. A bloody big one too. The body should still be there, and I might be able to send you the fangs."
Ollivander was a giddy as a schoolgirl. "Really? Where is it? How did it not kill you? Second year you say?"
Harry was amused by the old man's curiosity. However, he had to be going on his way. "Mr. Ollivander, I'm afraid I don't have time for another story. How about this though? You make my new wand free of charge. I'd also like you to provide a new wand to Neville Longbottom later this summer when he comes in for a replacement, at no cost. His broke last week. In return, I'll send the basilisk fangs to you when I can, and I promise to come back and tell you another exciting story. How about it?"
"DEAL!"
And so Harry exited Ollivander's shop at half past three, on his way to Madam Malkin's to pick up his altered robes. Hedwig had disappeared in another burst of flames, so she wouldn't draw attention to Harry. He wanted to return home quickly before the press arrived, but still decided to make one more unscheduled stop. He had decided earlier that morning to replace his Firebolt, and there was only one place to buy a new broomstick. Quality Quidditch Supplies.
"Hello!" Harry greeted the salesperson. "I recently lost my Firebolt, and would like to buy a replacement before Quidditch season starts back up at school. Do you happen to know if it's still the top model?"
The salesperson behind the counter hadn't even looked up yet. He was reading some random Quidditch magazine, and was only half listening to Harry's question. "Yeah, Firebolt's still top model. Don't know what you're talking about though, only kid who's got a Firebolt is Harry Potter."
Harry smiled. The man obviously didn't look up to see who he was talking to. "So you've heard of me then. Pleased to meet you." Harry gave a short wave.
The sales clerk didn't respond at first, then looked over the edge of the magazine, and said, "Blimey! You are Harry Potter! Wow!"
After assuring the man that he was who he said he was, and answering a few light questions about playing as a seeker, Harry finally convinced the man to go back to talking about broomsticks.
"Yes, the Firebolt's still the top model, although the price had come down a bit in the past year. It now only cost eleven hundred twenty three galleons, sixteen sickles." The man assured Harry.
Harry couldn't believe that the price was that expensive. What was it last year? And what did Sirius spend on his two years ago?
"If you're looking to replace your old one, it'll be no problem." The salesperson continued. "We've only sold five this past year, and have a few more in stock. But I think the boss might be able to do you one better. Interested?"
Harry said yes, expecting perhaps a discount or another type of offer like he'd been getting the past few days. The sales clerk led Harry to a side staircase, and up it into a large flat that was located above the Quidditch store.
"The boss lives here," the man told Harry, "he owns the whole building. He's been working on something, something very hush hush. Wait here a minute and let me go talk to him."
Harry nodded, and was directed to a soft couch in the waiting room. The sales clerk disappeared into another room. Harry waited patiently, and looked around the room, taking in all the magical portraits and Quidditch memorabilia. He occasionally heard a few strained words coming from the other room, and what he heard sounded promising.
"He's here?" One voice yelled.
".....thought....seeker....new....," another voice answered.
"Perfect! ....wonder if....performance....one year....," The first voice said.
The voices became whispers after that, and Harry studied his new watch as he waited for someone to come out and tell him what was going on.
After about five minutes, that happened. Both the salesperson and apparent owner came out of the other room, and headed towards Harry. The salesperson smiled at him and shouted out a "Good Luck," then returned down the stairs. The manager sat in a chair to face Harry.
The manager was a normal enough looking wizard. You could tell he once played Quidditch, because he had wide muscular shoulders and bulging forearms. There was a bit of a pot belly that came with middle age, and he had an overall cheery disposition. In fact, he reminded Harry of lot of Ludo Bagman.
"Hello there Mr. Potter! It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Walter Whigman, but please just call me Walt. I own the Quidditch store downstairs." He seemed nice enough.
So Harry replied, also in a friendly tone. "Nice to meet you Walt, I'm a big fan of your store. And please, just Harry is fine."
"Harry then," he agreed, "great! My associate just told me that you were looking to purchase a new Firebolt, something about your other one gone missing. Is that correct?"
"Yes," Harry answered, "it got confiscated last year, and I don't know where it is. I hope to be able to play Quidditch again this season, and need a new ride. Why, is there a problem?"
The manager laughed, "No, no problem at all. In fact, I'm fairly excited about what I'm about to say. Tell me Mr. Potter, do you have any idea what a top of the line Nimbus or Firebolt cost?"
"I have a rough idea. It's a lot," Harry said.
"Correct Harry! And because of that fact, not many people can afford them. In fact, besides professional Quidditch players, I believe you're only one of three people that actually own a Firebolt. The broomstick companies like to be exclusive, and they usually keep the price of a new model broomstick very high for the first few years after they've been released. Now, Harry. Can I ask you to keep a secret?"
Sure, why not Harry thought. "Okay."
"Great!" The man was getting really excited now. "Because the Nimbus and Firebolt companies are so greedy, and I have such a love of the game, I've been working on my own broomstick designs. Eventually I plan to have a complete line of four broomsticks; one specialized for each Quidditch position. You see, I'm tired of always selling other people's merchandise. If my broomsticks work out, I plan on selling them at a fair price, lower than what the current model Nimbus costs now.
"Now, I've already mostly finished two of the brooms. The first is for beater position; my old stomping grounds. I have a friend on Pride of Portee who'll be testing out the prototype during the team's Quidditch practice. He agreed to write a few reports on how the broom handles, that way I can make a few tiny corrections before I go into production. The team promised to keep the broom a secret, and won't be using it for actual games because it hasn't been approved for play by the league committee yet." Walt sure was excited about his broomsticks.
"And what's the second broom?" Harry asked.
"Ahhh, that's where you come in Mr. Potter." Here we go again, Harry thought. "The second completed broom is for your position; seeker. I was going to have another friend on the Harpies test it for me, but then you go and walk into my store. I dare say that the great Harry Potter is one of the best seekers around, and my sales assistant had a brilliant idea. He suggested that I let you use my prototype for this year's Quidditch matches, and that perhaps you might do something for me in return."
Harry was interested in getting a new broom, and having an unheard of model might be a great advantage over Malfoy and the other seekers, but Harry was wary about the crazed look in Walt's eye. "What did you have in mind Walt?"
"Well, my assistant pictured this actually. You can have the broom for this year, and test it out like normal. I'll expect a report on its performance after every one of your Quidditch matches. And when I finally go into production, either next summer or in time for the holidays, I'd like you to promote the broom. Nothing too much, just say a few words about how much you enjoy it and maybe a few pictures. That way I can publish your interview in the Daily Prophet, and along with my low prices, I'll be running the competition out of town! I'll even throw in another broom once the design's been finished and it's properly labeled. So what do you think?"
Harry thought about it. He had no idea how the broomstick performed, but it couldn't hurt to try it out. If he didn't like the broom, Harry could always trade it in later. So why not?
"Okay Mr. Whigman, you've got a deal. On a few conditions though." Harry wanted to make sure he was crystal clear. "If I don't like how the broom handles, I'll be returning it. I also don't like publicity much, so I'll only do a few interviews and photos. And I don't want my picture, or a huge lightning bolt, or anything else like that on the broom's box. I'll just endorse your product, not be its spokesperson."
Walt tried to talk him into a few more photo-ops than Harry had wanted to do, but eventually gave in to Harry's conditions. The broom would be delivered by owl within a week, as Whigman didn't have the prototype ready yet, and wanted to make a few minor adjustments.
"So what can you tell me about the broom?" Harry inquired.
"Well," Walt replied, "I don't have a name for it yet if that's what you mean, but I have come up with a few ideas I like. Anyway, it's a bit like the Firebolt, only with a few alterations. It's lighter than a Firebolt, and has a higher maximum velocity by about twenty five miles per hour. It turns much easier to get out of steep dives, and has quicker response times The downside is that it's nowhere near as flashy as the Firebolt. Its broom handle right now is just ordinary sanded wood, no diamond polish or anything glitzy. The broom is also lighter than the Firebolt, so if you get hit by a bludger or another person, you might fly off track a bit easier. And I couldn't get the instantaneous braking charms right. At maximum speeds, my broom needs about ten feet to fully stop. I'm hoping the cheaper prices will appeal to the Firebolt's normal market. But that's not the best part. Tell me, what a seeker's most popular injury?"
Harry thought about it, and remembered all his trips to the Hospital Wing. "Broken bones I guess, I tend to crash a lot."
Walt nodded. "Exactly! Seekers are constantly running into the ground or obstacles because of feints or losing control of their broomsticks. And do you have any idea how many brooms are damaged or broken entirely because of it?" Harry nodded, reminded of his shattered Nimbus 2000. "That's why all my brooms have a built in repair charm. It's never been done before because other brooms are too fancy, and it's hard to repair a top quality broomstick. You see, diamond hardening polish and magical finishes interfere with a standard repair spell. But since I left my broom handle alone; it can repair itself as easily as anything else."
Whigman went on for another few moments about the broom's capabilities, and by the time Harry left the store, he was very excited about trying out his new broomstick. Checking his wristwatch, Harry saw the time was now a bit past four o'clock, and his robes would most certainly be finished.
Amber was in Madam Malkin's again, as was the older witch who was working the day before, and Madam Malkin herself. Since Harry was not in disguise this time, he was accosted by all three women.
The two older witches started to measure and greet him immediately, and Amber just giggled and waved at him from a distance. Harry brushed the two witches off, saying he'd already been measured and fitted for new robes the day before. Amber took his purchases out from behind the counter and walked over to save Harry from all the attention he was getting. He finally managed to back into a corner, away from the other customers and shopkeepers.
"Now I see why you were in disguise yesterday," Amber smiled.
"Yes," Harry agreed, "I do seem to have the habit of drawing attention to myself. I hope you don't get into trouble because you helped keep my secret."
Amber smiled. "Oh, don't worry. In the end, as long as Madam Malkin makes the sale, she won't care. Now Gretta on the other hand, she'll be upset that she missed out on some gossip."
Harry laughed as he realized his suspicions about the horse faced woman were true. Amber handed him the three large bags, and Harry withdrew the correct amount of money from his money pouch. His business done, Harry made to leave, but was still backed into a corner, blocked by Amber who had a nervous looking face.
"Harry," she began. Amber was looking at the floor and wringing her hands. "I hope you don't mind, but I included my floo address in one of your bags. I was hoping maybe we could go out sometime. If you're not doing anything that is."
Harry could tell Amber was extremely nervous. In fact, she looked almost like Harry did a few years ago when he had asked Cho to go to the Yule Ball with him. Harry felt kind of good knowing that he had made her nervous in that way, but then became nervous himself when he realized he would have to form an answer.
"Er, ahh, I'd really love to Amber." She looked up at him with a huge smile. But it quickly faded. "It's just that I won't be around much this summer, and I don't know how much free time I'll have."
Harry thought about another possibility as well. This one wasn't so new, it was just an extension of the danger his friends already suffered from. "Besides, I wouldn't want to put you into any danger. I'm sure you know some bad people are after me, and if they found out I was dating, it wouldn't be too good for that person." Amber looked crestfallen, and didn't seem to understand Death Eaters would be after her if they were so much as seen in public together. Harry had to make her feel better somehow.
"You're real pretty and everything, and I like you a lot, it's just not the best time for me. But I promise to stop in and see you if I'm in Diagon Alley again this summer. How's that?"
That cheered up Amber considerably, and Harry thought it might be nice to have another friend he could visit. He'd just have to be careful.
With a quick wave goodbye, skipping the kiss on the check this time, Harry left Amber smiling at the counter. Once outside the store, Harry remembered his new vision enhancement options, and an evil grin crept on his face.
Still standing outside the robes shop, Harry pretended to look at the store's sign about business hours. Closing his right eye, he concentrated on looking past the wooden sign. Slowly images formed, and Harry could begin to make out the dress shop behind. He spotted Amber, and began to focus on her as well.
Harry didn't want to abuse his gift. The witch at the glasses shop had warned him, and Harry even felt a little guilty about what he was doing. After all, Harry had a good set of morals, not like some wizards he knew. But as he focused on Amber, and saw what she was wearing, or rather wasn't wearing under her robes, Harry decided he'd have to learn to get over his guilt real fast. "Damn," Harry muttered under his breath as he walked away, "I just passed up a chance to date a hot older girl. Maybe I'll have to come back and visit her after all."
Harry soon entered the Leaky Cauldron, exchanged a quick conversation with Tom over a mug of butterbeer (man that stuff is good), and thought about the conversation he'd be having that afternoon with the Dursleys. Now that he was able to do magic, Harry could just hex the hell out of them. God knows they deserved it. But Harry reasoned that if he showed them that he wouldn't use magic against them, and that it could even be beneficial for them, then the Dursleys might leave Harry well enough alone for the rest of the summer.
Two hours later, and seventy pounds lighter, Harry waved to the cab driver that had driven him home and stepped towards the front door of number four Privet Drive. And Harry had his wand drawn...
AUTHOR NOTES:
See, I couldn't really kill Hedwig. I just had to tease everyone a little. I've always liked the idea of Harry having a phoenix, but another bird would just make Hedwig obsolete. Besides, no one really knows where phoenixes come from. I've read a ton of fanfic stories that have them hatching from eggs, but who knows? They're creatures dedicated to the light, so why couldn't they be reborn from other animals that die in a dark manner. Plus Harry is the embodiment of the light, fighting against Voldy, the embodiment of the dark. Who deserves a phoenix more than Harry? The only thing we really know about phoenixes is that they're "reborn from the ashes." So I wrote a story to incorporate that one known fact. Please tell me what you think. Do all of you like Hedwig as a phoenix? And how many of you picked up my hint in chapter 4? Remember the white phoenix on the back of Harry's dress robe? And just so you know, there really are many buildings out there with no floor 13. It should be easy to guess how Harry's going to hide it. A quick note on those that say Harry hasn't grieved enough over Sirius. He spent a whole week doing that, and then pushed his feelings aside. They're not gone, and we saw them creep out with the tattoos. Don't worry, we'll see some more emotional Harry, just not a whinny cry baby Harry. I hate that Harry. Next chapter, Harry confronts the Dursleys and unpacks his trunk. After that training starts, and I promised you won't be disappointed.
Updated 11/18/04
I know originally my grammar and spelling could have been better, so I've gone through (I had to for the Schnoogle version anyway) and corrected all that I could find. This is the final version, folks! If you would like to reread the entire fic, there's also other stuff I changed to, besides the spelling. Nothing that will confuse a reader if they don't, but just enough to clean up some edges, and fix some mistakes in the mythology I made. Later all!
Ross