HP: DH
Chapter 5
The large, no…gargantuan, man led me down through the castle and towards the gates, navigating with ease I could only hope to aspire to. I am not ashamed to admit that once we reached the entrance hall I turned around long enough to flip the bird at the stairs. Just because I'm a bit smarter for my age doesn't make me overly mature. I have cynicism by the truckload, but the two things are not the same.
"So, my mum was considered the brightest witch of her time then? What was her favorite subject?" I asked with no end to my curiosity. This was far more than I could ever expect of the Dursley's.
"Oh yeh she was, ter be sure. No one even had a chance ter beat her out for Head Girl. Her favorite subject was Charms as I recall. I reckon yer could talk ter Professor Flitwick for even more stories 'bout her." Hagrid nodded. His bushy hair and beard were large enough to create an audible rustle at the movement.
"What about my dad? Did he make Head Boy with Mum?"
"He sure did, but he had bit o' growin up ter do before he got there. 'Spose it could even be what made yer mum agree to datin him. Was right about tha' time when they became an item as I recall. Don't get me wrong, yer dad was smart too, real smart. I reckon it was his skill in Transfiguration what made McGonagall willin ter put up with him."
"Put up with him? What do you mean, Hagrid?" My head tilted to the side in addition to craning back to see him. It was a sure fire recipe for a cramp.
"He was a bit o' a prankster. More like the Prankster Prince o' Gryffindor, o' course no one could pin it on him or his mates. That's jus' how good they were, see. Most of the time it made him friends, but there'll always be that odd one out who doesn't wanna joke, or the joke goes too far or summat. All tha' made Lily view him as immature."
"I see, and what about his friends you mentioned?" I took all this in and tried to take stock of myself. I knew that if he were alive, I would love my father, but would I get along with him? That's a whole different question. Given what I know now, I would probably bide my time and get him back with a prank coup de grace, if he annoyed me enough. I guess that put me somewhere in the middle, but it was irrelevant since it would only ever be hypothetical.
"Oh, yeh. Had three o' the best friends yer could ever imagine. Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black." Hagrid had continued despite my momentary musings. I brought my attention back in time to notice something odd. I needed to test this.
"I'm sorry, Hagrid, I didn't quite catch that. What were their names again?" Hagrid pushed open the large front doors and we emerged out into the courtyard as he repeated himself. Yes, there it was. Remus merited a fond smile, Peter got a proud grin with a hint of tears, and for whatever reason Sirius Black elicited the beginnings of rage. The last one I knew all too well.
"Oh so I didn't mishear you then. So why is it that the mention of Peter makes you want to cry? On the same note, why does the mere thought of Mr. Black make you want to bludgeon something?" Hagrid tried to deny it but I cut him off. "My friendly advice to you, Mr. Hagrid, is to never play poker. You wear your emotions plain on your face."
"Tha's nonsense. Bit of a game down the pub is how I won Fluffy, and Professor Dumbledore jus asked to borrow her not an hour before I came to get yer."
"Oh really? Who's Fluffy and what's so special about her that a man like Professor Dumbledore would be interested in her?" Hagrid looked ashamed.
"I…er…I see yer point. Fluffy's none a yer business, but I 'spose I could tell yer about the rest. It is related…" Hagrid nervously tugged on his beard as he gathered his thoughts. We turned down from the courtyard, heading not toward the gates like I thought, but towards his hut. "Yer see, yer dad and his mates were close as close could be, never thought that'd change. So when the war with You-Know-Who got real bad, yer parents went underground, inta hiding. Cause yer dad and mum trusted those boys with their lives, …well that's just what they did."
"Then what happened?" I was sure I could see where this was headed but I wanted to be sure, wanted to hear him say it.
"'e betrayed em. Sirius Black betrayed yer folks to You-Know-Who, and after the…after the deed was done, he hunted down poor Peter. Peter weren't a bright lad or very brave, but he showed he was a true Gryffindor tha' day. Called him out an everythin."
"How'd that work out for him?" I pursed my lips, afraid of what might be next.
"Black blew up the whole street by shootin a Reducto at a muggle gas line. 'e killed poor Peter and thirteen poor muggles besides. Biggest bit they found o' Peter was a finger. They gave tha' and the order o' merlin to his poor mum at the funeral." Hagrid pulled out an ugly purple handkerchief with lurid yellow spots and blew his nose with a noise not unlike a fog horn.
"That's…well frankly that's nauseating." I didn't bother to clarify that it was the betrayal and not the details of the explosion that upset me. After putting away the handkerchief, Hagrid gestured for me to stay as he walked around the back of his hut. Soon, the air was filled with the sound of a massive engine roaring to life and Hagrid trundled out on a motorbike that, surprisingly enough, looked like it fit him.
"Hop in!" He hollered over the roar of an engine, gesturing towards the sidecar. I hopped in and put on the helmet that was near my feet.
"This is really nice and all but isn't it a long drive to London?" I yelled at him. Looking back, it was a stupid question but I was still learning all the things magic could do."
"Yeh," Hagrid chuckled, even his laugh easily heard over the commotion. "But we're not really gonna drive the whole way, are we?" I had just enough time to fix him with a confused look before he gunned the engine and we took off. Just when it looked like we would crash into the main gates, we lifted off the ground and began soaring towards London.
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We made it to London from Scotland in record time, just under an hour compared to the usual eight. I wasn't sure if that was the actual time of course, but I'd heard Uncle Vernon gripe about it after coming back from a holiday. Asking why he chose to go there if it the drive was so taxing did not end well at all.
While we had been able yell over the engine on the ground, once we were moving there was simply no way to be heard. Instead I used the time to marvel at the sights, watching the countryside pass below us. I noted that we seemed to be following a set of train tracks that Muggles just drove over, as if they weren't there. Dangerous to be sure, but even more so was the distinct lack of any of the usual railroad crossing gear.
Hagrid pressed a button as we drove over Charing Cross Road, although it didn't do anything that I could see. Once he dipped the motorbike and landed among traffic with no one crashing from the sheer astonishment of an aerial bike, I worked it out. Yet another thing I would need to study and make use of. Traffic was light, as it was still early in the morning, so we were soon parked outside a run-down pub. Yet again, Muggles seemed to walk right by it and the large sign that read "The Leaky Cauldron."
I took off my helmet and followed Hagrid inside. It was sparsely populated and, if possible, even more run down on the inside. My stomach grumbled again so I grabbed a spacious booth near the back while Hagrid placed our order with the wizened old barkeep. He looked around furtively when he came back and sat down.
"Now, Harry, summat you should know. Yer…a bit famous in our world. More than a bit really, but thought it would be good ter warn yer. Once more people come in, there'll be folk everywhere wantin your autograph or summat. Not much we can do about it, just thought to warn yer is all."
My mind immediately went back to how the motorbike went unnoticed, but I figured if something similar could be done right now, Hagrid would have taken care of it already. Still, it warranted more research later.
"I understand, Hagrid." Just then, the barkeep brought our orders by, immediately making me fall in love with cooking via magic. Effiency, easy clean up, what wasn't to love? I dug in to my omelet with the fervor of wild animal. The bacon and hash browns disappeared similarly, and while the strange juice was delightful, the pleasant surprise was the coffee. I usually drank whatever was left in the pot back at the Dursley's. That or saved it for whenever Aunt Petunia decided to grow something in the window sill again. For all the misery they put me through, killing her potted plants with a little coffee watering was my petty form of revenge. In this case it was literally served cold.
By the time we had finished breakfast, people had begun to fill the place, and sure enough all eyes drifted over towards our table. I stood as Hagrid set strange coins on the table by way of paying the bill and soon found myself mobbed.
"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter," an old woman said as she shoved a hand into my face. "It's an honor to meet you."
"Um…Likewise," I answered awkwardly as I shook her hand. She seemed satisfied and unaware of my discomfort when she moved away. I had barely made it a foot when I was assaulted again.
"Dedalus Diggle, Mr. Potter," The man pulled on his top hat but rather than it coming off, his head seemed to stretch up with it. "Thank you so much, and my condolences for your loss."
"You're..you're welcome, and thank you Mr. Diggle," came my choked up reply. I suspected that most people only thought of what that night did for them, and not what I lost in the process of becoming famous for sitting in a dirty nappy. My suspicion was confirmed when Mr. Diggle left and the next few people acted much more like Ms. Crockford, well-meaning and grateful, but a little self-centered.
"Okay, I'm done here." If anyone heard me, they didn't acknowledge it, so just as a man with an odd purple turban was pushed forward by the crowd, I hid behind Hagrid. "Crowd plow, comin through. If yer don't move it, yer gonna lose it!" I bellowed, doing my best Hagrid impression and giving him a shove. Considering I was eleven and Hagrid was…well Hagrid, my impression was lacking and my shove didn't budge him, but he got my hint. I held onto the back of his coat tightly as he knifed through the crowd. I imagined them as waves breaking on the bow of the H.M.S. Hagrid going full steam ahead.
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Luckily, it didn't take us very long to get out of there. After showing me how to open the archway by tapping a special sequence of bricks, Hagrid pointed out our first stop. Gringotts Bank, a large marble building that stood tall above the crooked skyline of the alley. We passed through huge doors and headed up to the counter to see about getting money. My money, apparently, which obviously meant the Dursley's knew nothing about it. If they did it would be long gone.
After some scrutiny, the teller called over a goblin by the name of Griphook to see to our needs. He didn't react like I expected when I introduced myself and offered my hand. He still shook it, but he seemed surprised, wary, and perhaps a little bit touched. Hagrid went with a different goblin on his own business, and told me to meet him outside a place called Madam Malkin's.
Griphook was a talkative fellow, at least more so than the teller was, and explained the basics of Goblin banking on the way down. In the event of all-out war, Gringotts was considered a neutral sovereign nation. This immediately made me think of the Swiss and their position in WWII like they mentioned in school. When I pointed this out, Griphook glared and muttered something about "We do it first, but the gnomes get the press every time."
Soon enough we were at "my" vault, and Griphook opened the massive door. I stood in awe at the piles of glittering gold, silver, and bronze, but after a moment, reality set back in. On the way through the Alley, Hagrid explained wizarding currency to me, all while I kept noting prices in the windows. Granted, I didn't have more than a working knowledge, if that, but this vault would only last me through schooling, if my quick math was right.
"Mr, Griphook, I assume there would be a way for you to get account statements for all of this. Is that correct?"
"Yes, Mr. Potter, but both monthly and annual statements go to your magical guardian by default. For Muggleborns or in your case orphans who have been placed with a muggle family for whatever reason, magical guardian status defaults to the Headmaster of Hogwarts until such time as you petition to change it."
"I see." I started tapping my foot as I thought. "I hope you don't mind all the questions. Is it possible to get a copy of the statements sent to me in the mean time? Is this the only vault I have in my name?"
"Yes, but you would need to speak to your account manager for any such request. As for other vaults, I don't know specifics except that this is merely a trust vault, refilled on the first of the year. Usually such vaults are also set up to handle automatic tuition payments. For more information, you would again need to speak to your account manager."
"Thank you, I guess I have even more questions for him then."
"Unfortunately he is out for the next few days on personal business, but I can see to it that your requests are on his desk, if you like. He'd get back to you by owl before the end of the week."
"I would appreciate that, thank you." I stepped into my vault, scooping up handfuls of all three denominations into the bag Griphook had provided, which never seemed to get any heavier. When I had all that I wanted, I scooped up around one hundred galleons and gave them to Griphook. "For all your wonderful assistance. Thank you."
"No, thank you, Mr. Potter." Griphook quickly stashed the money in a bag of his own, and we were back on our way towards the surface.
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Once I was out in the fresh air once again, I smiled. Griphook was quite nice, but caves and vaults aren't exactly to my liking. I wandered down the alley, keeping my head low except to look at the occasional sign, and I found Madam Malkin's without drawing anymore unwanted attention.
An invisible bell rang when I entered, and a squat woman rushed out to help me.
"Getting fitted for Hogwarts, dearie?" She asked pleasantly. I nodded. "Right then. Would you kindly hop up on that stool there?" I did as asked, giving her a sidelong look at her odd phrasing. "Right then, let's get started."
As the woman did her work, I noticed another boy near me also being fitted. He had a pale, drawn face and slick blond hair. He reminded me vaguely of Dudley's friend Piers.
"What are you looking at then?" The boy asked with a drawl.
"Sorry, there's just not a whole lot to do while we're standing here, thought I'd have a look around." The boy shrugged as much as he could since his robes were too tight in the shoulder at the moment.
"True enough. Managed to get your parents to wait outside too then? It's a bit embarrassing when they follow you in everywhere." I immediately changed my rating of the boy from Piers to Dudley. He pretended to be embarrassed as well but soaked in the attention wherever possible.
"No actually. My parents are dead." I replied in a deadpan voice just as his fitting was finishing up.
"Oh…I'm sorry." The boy took that moment to look a bit closer. "You must be Harry Potter. " He puffed out his chest. "I'm Draco Malfoy. You're going to need help learning your way around and the right sort of wizard to hang around. I can help you there."
"That would be great, thanks." I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. This boy was full of himself but could prove useful in the long run. Still, I just wanted this fitting to be done with.
"Do you know what house you want to be in? I'm going to be in Slytherin for sure, all the greatest people come from there."
"I honestly have no idea."
Draco turned his head, intending to point out his father but caught sight of Hagrid through the window instead. "Gah, what is that oaf doing here? Father's told me stories and says that man is useless."
"The only way he'd ever be useless is if you treated him that way continually." I had to try very hard not to growl at Draco's confused look. "Let me think of an example, in this case you. I barely know you, but I'm sure you have some skill or some connection that will come in handy in the future. Am I wrong?"
"No…"
"That is exactly my point. We have talked for all of two minutes. I barely have a read on you, except that you are insulting someone who has been nothing but nice to me based on second hand information. Now if I were to dismiss you out of hand right now, over this incident, what would happen?"
"You would lose any chance to use my skill or connections for your own benefit, maybe even making an enemy in the process?" My point seemed to be dawning on Draco.
"Precisely. So it would be in my best interest to?" I trailed off to let him finish the sentence.
"Treat me civilly so that a potential friendship has time to develop or at the very least you have someone possibly willing to help when trouble calls!"
"And we have a winner!" I hopped down from the stool as soon as I was allowed. "That is exactly what I'm going to do, Draco. How's that sound?"
"Good….good god, I'm all about the ambitious side but you just clarified in a minute something Father has tried to teach me for years. You just taught me a lesson in cunning. Harry Potter, if you aren't in Slytherin, I'll eat my school hat at the feast." I chuckled and rolled my eyes finally. Ah sweet relief.
"It was a pleasure to meet you, Draco. Make sure you have plenty of salt, just in case." I paid for my robes and patted Draco on the shoulder as we parted ways and I headed towards Hagrid.
"Alrigh' there, 'Arry?" Hagrid asked, not disguising his look of contempt towards Draco and his family. I made a note to talk to him about that later.
"Just fine, Hagrid. I may have even made a friend." Hagrid's eye twitched a little but he surprisingly said nothing. "What's next?" He immediately brightened.
"I got most o' yer other things while yer were in there getting fitted, so all that's left is yer books and wands. Two mos' interestin stops if yer ask me."
"Sounds like fun. Let's go." Hagrid led the way to Ollivander's wand shop. It was a small dusty place, so Hagrid waited outside again. Mr. Ollivander himself worked the counter, his blue eyes milky with the beginnings of cataracts.
"Ah, Mr. Potter. I was wondering when I would see you in here. I remember when your parents came to get their first wands. Your mother was so excited about the new world she stepped into. Ten and a quarter inches. Dragon heartstring core. Very swishy, perfect for charms work.
Your father's visit was less of an affair, it usually is for pureblood families, of course. I'd also known old Charlus for years and met James when he was a tiny tiny thing. His wand was eleven inches on the nose. Mahogany with a unicorn hair core and very pliable. It would have been very well suited to transfiguration." I coughed inadvertently cutting the old man's reminiscing short.
"You have a very impressive memory, Mr. Ollivander."
"Mr. Potter," he laughs softly, "I remember every wand I've ever sold."
"I do have a question though. Why did you say their "first" wands?" I found it hard to maintain eye contact when he appeared to be looking through me.
"Ah yes, well, sometimes people do not treat their wands as the precious tools that they are, so they break and require a replacement." For some reason this screamed of my father to me. "Others find it helpful to have back up wand on hand, whether they get disarmed in a fight, or having wands more suited to opposing disciplines. That is not as common though."
"Why is that, sir?"
"People don't think to ask or assume one is all they need." He shrugged, looking a little disappointed.
"Makes sense to me. I'd like to shop for a backup wand as well please."
"Very well, in that case I'll be sorting wands into "not suited" "partial match" and "suited" categories. Normally on finding a suited wand or even a strong enough partial match, we would stop there. You are going to get more choice than most though."
Mr. Ollivander started measuring me with a tailors tape measure. It showed that I was beginning to get used to magic that I was not surprised to see the tape stay floating while he rummaged through the boxes. Wand after wand was thrust in my hand with nothing happening for so long that I began to wonder if I was actually a wizard. Finally he came back with another, and the moment it touched my fingers, my whole arm filled with warmth.
"Eleven inches, made of holly with a phoenix feather core, very curious." I almost didn't hear him as sparks shot from the wand but when he moved took the wand from me I had to ask.
"What's so curious about it?"
"It's an unusual combination to begin with, but its brother gave you that scar, Mr. Potter."
"That seems less curious to me and more like fate from one of the old Greek tragedies. I suppose I'm to use it as the instrument of vengeance upon those that harmed my family then?"
"Cute, Mr. Potter, but I wasn't finished. No, the most curious thing about it is that it straddles the borderline between suited and partial match. It would do fine in your hands, and may have a special advantage in the right circumstances, but you could have so much more." I had the decency to blush a bit at being rude.
"Well then, I suppose that's a good start and let's see what the second one turns up." So the search continued, well past lunch and on towards dinner. The boxes began to pile higher and higher; I started resigning myself to only having the one wand. That's when he put the next wand into my hand. To compare the warmth of the first wand to this one would be like comparing a fireplace blaze to a rampaging forest fire, hot and uncontrolled, and without a doubt, powerful.
A deluge of sparks cascaded out of the wand in all manner of colors, filling the shop like a fireworks display all set off at once. Once it died down, Mr. Ollivander clapped.
"I do so love it when I find an exquisite match. Let's see…cypress, a nice reliable wood, generally associated with valor and self-sacrifice. Fourteen inches, which makes for fairly balanced handling compared to its slightly heavier weight. What makes this wand very interesting though, is the core. It was experimental and I never imagined someone would match it. The core is made from a bowtruckle that was near death when I was harvesting the wood, and it is wrapped in braided yeti's hair. The bowtruckle works in perfect harmony with the tree it once tended, while the yeti's hair counter acts the fragility of the bowtruckle and bolsters the strength of the whole. "
"That sounds amazing and visionary, sir, but I'd be lying if I said I understood half of what you're talking about. I would like to learn, I'm just not very far in my studies yet, especially on creatures."
"I understand, young man. The fact that you are willing to learn says more to me than anything else."
"Mr. Ollivander, I've been meaning to ask. Is there a better means of holding my wands other than my pocket?" The old man gave a dry laugh.
"Of course, we'll get you a couple of holsters that will automatically size to your forearm or shin. Not very common though, typically used by the auror corps…"
"Because most people don't think to ask?" Mr. Ollivander laughed even louder.
"Right in one, my boy. Let's get your purchases rung up. Also, keep up your studies and I may just have a job for you here someday."
"I'd like that, sir." I left the shop forty seven galleons lighter with a holster on each forearm. The stronger wand was set to be drawn by my dominant hand. I showed Hagrid one wand and he whistled.
"That's summat nice there, 'Arry. Had me one like that a few years back." He got an odd look on his face, but it was difficult to read and at this point I was exhausted. Hagrid spoke up, saving the day. "Didn't 'spect it ter take yer that long in Ollivander's so I did yer book shopping for yer. I figured that was summat yer wanted to take yer time at so I tried ter make it up ter yeh. Tippy said yer were readin all sorts o' creature books, so I got yer some more o' those. I can help if yer like, I work with all sorts o' creatures out in the forest." I craned my neck and looked up at him, genuinely touched at the gesture.
"Thank you, Hagrid. That sounds great. I'm pretty exhausted though, can we go home?"
"Sure thing, 'Arry." Hagrid smiled. At the time I didn't catch that I referred to Hogwarts as home, but in the coming months it would be a far better home than the Dursley's could ever be.
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