Chapter 3: Harmony

Sorry about this late update, but I slept in too long this morning. My bad. Anyway, I've already started on the next chapter, so it will definitely be ready earlier! :)

Thank you for all the positive comments! Someone (you know who you are) has requested that I make Neville a professor at Hogwarts. And so it shall happen. But I have no idea where to put him. Thoughts?

"And there he was
This young boy
Stranger to my eye
Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly with his song"

-Killing Me Softly by Fugees

Harry's POV:

We now stood in the training room. It was so familiar, with the large cage of rats, and the huge snake slithering across the floor (who I learned was called Nagini). Tom and I had been here a millions times together, and this wasn't the first time Nanda had been here, but he had never seen anything like what I was about to do before. Truthfully, neither had I, and I was hoping with all my heart it would work for him. "Alright, pup. Make your clay." He nodded and cupped his hands together, focusing on them intently, and I did the same. I really, really hoped this would work.

I was done first, and so I played around with it waiting for Nanda to finish. He stared at his hands and bit his lip for a few more moments before he parted them, and a round ball of light was inside. I smiled and tossed my clay into the air to float just before me, and I pulled my wand out from my pocket. Nanda watched as I flicked my wrist just right, and sent something shooting to my clay. It grew taller, and got a beautiful mahogany color to it, with strings and stand and everything. Mere seconds later, a large cello was hovering just above the ground, its bow right beside it. He smiled and handed me his clay.

"Here. Turn it into something."

I grinned. "What should I turn it into?"

He bit his lip again, thinking hard about what he could want. I trusted no matter what he picked, it would work amazingly with the cello. The corners of his mouth tugged up and he said, "Can I have a flute?"

"Of course." Once more, I tossed the clay in the air, and transfigured it. It didn't grow much at all, except to elongate, and a shiny silver coat grew on top of it. And then a flute was where the little ball of light had been. Nanda smiled, bigger than I had ever seen him before. "Go ahead. Play them"

His smile faded into concentration, and his hands rose into the air. He looked like a professional already, and he was only eleven. My goodness…I am old. I watched as he counted off and the instruments readied themselves. There was the ever slightest moment of silence filled with anticipation just before the final down beat for the instruments to start playing, and in that moment, I wasn't watching my son, but a conductor before his orchestra. And I realized what (future) life he was cut out for in the Wizarding world. It wasn't among the Aurors, or a professor at Hogwarts, or Quidditch athlete, or anything like that. His life was with his music. And I could never be more proud of him.

His hand movement signaled the cello to start, and a rich, deep sound resonated throughout the room, beautiful and warm like a winter's day sitting by the fireplace with hot chocolate. After a short few beats, he let the flute join in. It played a sweet little melody, like chipper bird tweeting its heart out. I never would have thought such a deep tone could mesh so well with a much higher one, but both instruments seemed to flow together better than water, and soar through the air to my ears. I could feel the vibrations with my pulse from the cello, and the prick of each high note from the flute brought tears to my eyes.

My son is a music prodigy.

The song played itself out, and Nanda cut it off. He stood still a moment, and I took that as a cue to clap. He turned to me, wearing a large smile, and bowed. He made muggle conductors look like amateurs, being able to control all the instruments himself with magic. I definitely could not do that when I was his age. I could only accidently make glass appear, and cause snakes to slither to Brazil from the zoo. He was so absolutely perfect to me, and I'm, not sure he would ever understand what that feels like until he has his own child.

"What did you think, Papa?"

"That was amazing, pup." I smiled and held my arms out for him to hug me, which he took. "Just imagine after you have your wand. I'm sure your first year you will learn how to do that spell perfectly. You will be wonderful, pup."

He looked up at me. "You think so?"

"I do. As does your dad." I sighed. "I can't believe you're going to Hogwarts already. It seems like just yesterday that I was coming back from Hogwarts myself." My little bird was learning to fly. It won't be long before he leaves the nest. Oh, I don't want him to grow up. Not yet. "Well, alright. Let's go have some dinner, then."

Nanda pulled out of the hug and said, "I'll race you."

I chuckled. "Last one there has to pay for your wand."

We laughed and ran out the door to the dining room.

Tom Riddle's POV:

I sat in the sitting room, staring out the window, long after they had left. I had always been so unsure about how raising a child would be. Would I be able to give them the things they need? Could I be a proper father? I only knew what I had from experience, which was nothing, of course, and so I had to do what I felt I should. I was so thankful to not have to do this alone. Harry was with me every step of the way, and that added a reassurance that I was doing the right thing. Just because Harry grew up in a terrible home as a child does not mean he cannot raise a child properly; quite the opposite, actually. He was such a perfect father that I felt our pup loved him so much more. But that was such a childish thought. This was not a competition, or anything of that matter. All that was important was that Nanda had two fathers who loved him more than anything else in existence.

Like Harry, of course, I wanted him to be nothing like me. But, as we have realized, it is so difficult to raise children in such a way that they do not want to be like their parents, without having them hate you (or something equally as awful). We both could not help but notice how much he adored everything about Harry, as he would often question me about Harry's past, and I would often see thoughts in his mind regarding making Harry extra proud when he did something wonderful. One of Harry's prominent fears was that Nanda would be like Harry, and go through a point in his life where he was sick of his life so much, he would want to kill himself. No matter how many times I have told him that would never happen because he has us, his fear has never left.

Through the window, I could see the leaves shine in the sun, still so green, and rustle in the slight breeze. It was still summer, yes, but all that was going through my head was fall, when the leaves would change into bright orange, red, yellow, and brown, and leave their home upon the branches. Nothing could stop that from happening, not Nanda leaving nor the leaves falling, but I did not exactly feel the need to. It was a part of life that happened, no matter what others thought of it. That was the power of nature.

I was sure that Harry had done something to cheer up Nanda by then, and so I made my way to the dining room. I sat in my very comfy chair, and awaited their arrival. The minutes passed, and I wondered just how long I had been in the sitting room staring out the window and thinking. I had assumed it had been a while, but maybe it had only been a short amount of time. My sense of time was hardly ever off, but I had not really focused on it, otherwise I would not be in this predicament My eyes wondered the room, falling upon many things, such as the length of the table, and the ceiling's height, even the small owl window, before they landed on the two chairs next to my own. I was at the head of the table, as always, and Harry was at my right hand, leaving Nanda with my left hand.

There was a time when the chair at my left hand had been a high-chair, used to feed the small child we had just acquired. Usually children five years of age did not use such chairs, but Nanda was so tiny for his age, and he could not see the top of the table in a normal chair, we had to get him one. And then the chair went to Harry's friends, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley (formerly Granger), for their child who had broken the old one they had gotten from Mr. Weasley's parents (not that the baby was heavy weight as much as the chair was very frail). I rather missed it. It had a charm on it, of course, to change its fabric to the liking of the small person whom decided to place their bottom in the chair. For Nanda, it was blue with music notes moving along a set of lines called a music staff. For Rose (The Weasley child and Harry's godchild), it was a pale yellow with fairies swirling around.

More minutes passed as I gathered my thoughts back to the present. Out of all the time I had to get used to having feelings (a whopping 6 years), I had never felt this one before. I was not sad, but I was not happy either, nor was I scared or angry. As much as I enjoyed that Nanda was going to school now, there was something inside me that was…odd. I wanted the child I once had back in my arms, laughing and playing like he once had, but then again, I understood I could not turn back time (well, not easily). It was more of a dream-like feeling rather than an actual emotion; almost as if I could wake up at any moment to hear my young pup asking for a bedtime story about Babbity Rabbity, or the Hopping Pot, out of the book I had in the library. But he would be going to school instead, with books of his own, and a wand, to learn charms, transfiguration, potions, history, and various other subjects, just I once had.

They are taking an awful lot of time. I sighed and sat back against the chair, a thing I rarely ever did. There was always the possibility that he did not want a father who had been evil. He would not be the first person to think the ways of people never change. I still could not go out in public without having people stare daggers at me. They would even go to the lengths to do something awful to me, even if it was something small, like going on lunch break right as I walked into the store (no matter what time it was), or trip me in a crowd of people (so I could not see who it was). One man even tried to kill me with his bare hands because I had done something or other to someone important to him a long time ago (of which I apologized for many, many times afterwards). There was nothing I could do to erase the past that haunted me so (unless I obliviated the entire Wizarding world, but Harry said it was a terrible idea).

And yet, it was such a beautiful idea. If only I could start out fresh once more as Tom Riddle, and not Voldemort. That would be marvelous…

I distinctly heard the pounding of feet coming my way. I turned to see Nanda running out from the hallway, Harry just after him, both laughing and full of smiles. It was a relieving sight.

Nanda sat in his chair first. "I win!"

Harry chuckled and snapped his fingers. "Darn. I suppose that means I'm paying for your wand then." He sat down, and the house elves brought us our dinner.

"Dad, you missed it. Papa made me some a cello and a flute and I played a song on them." Nanda marveled, taking a bite of food.

"It was remarkable." Harry commented. 'He doesn't seem to have really been affected by our story. He probably won't until he goes to school.'

I nodded slightly. "I must see that when you get back from Olivander's." I trusted Harry's judgment in this, as he had gone through similar circumstances (not that I would not if he had not, but that was just because I loved him). As long as Nanda understood at some point, I did not fear that he would be too overwhelmed by it all.

A slight hope swelled in my chest. Children were so innocent, and forgiving. They did not know the evils of the world; the natural ones, that drive people to do its bidding, and trick them so smoothly, and lie at their faces, and rip their loved ones from their lives in an instant. People (in general) feared the dark, but they did not understand that evil could happen, even in the brightest of light.

We finished the food on our plates. "Alright then," Harry said, breaking the peaceful silence that had come with an enjoyable meal. "Let's go get your wand."

Nanda jumped out of his chair. He seemed much more excited than he had earlier. "Oh, I wonder what type it will be. I hope it looks nice."

"When I was getting my first wand, I nearly destroyed the entire store." Harry shook his head with a smile on his face. "If he asks you to 'give it a wave', please be careful where you wave it. Wouldn't want all the wands to fall out of their places on the wall."

I chuckled. "I had a similar experience. The first wand he gave me caused the windows to shatter all around the store, even the ones upstairs."

Nanda smiled. "Well, I hope nothing like that happens to me. I wouldn't want to have him clean it all up."

Harry grabbed his hand, and they disapparated. I smiled and stood. The elves cleared our plates and popped away. I made my way to the library. I had counted the books I had read, and there were only 50 I had not even touched, and I was determined to read them.

3rd Person POV:

Harry and Nanda appeared in Diagon Alley, right in front of Olivander's. Harry opened the door for Nanda, and he stepped inside cautiously. Looking around, he understood what Harry had meant when he talked about the wands falling from the walls, because they were stacked on top of another all down them, messy and strewn about carelessly. There was a whoosh sound, and the vase in the corner of the room shattered, and the water spilled everywhere, letting the flower fall over.

"No, I don't think that's the one for you," a man said, with crazy white hair and spectacles. It wasn't the Olivander Harry had known, for he had passed, but his son, who was the spitting image of him. Maybe a bit different in the nose, and he doesn't have the same eyes as he did, Harry thought. Olivander's son pulled his wand out and fixed the vase with a simple movement. "Let's try another," and he went back to his ladders and shelves.

Nanda looked over to the source of a sigh that came, and saw none other than Scorpius Malfoy, and his father Draco. Scorpius put the wand back in the box and huffed, crossing his arms. "Dad," he said, his bottom lip in a pout and the front of his platinum hair flicking out of place just barely. "I've already tried seven wands. When am I going to find the right one?" Just the sight of him made Nanda's want to leave. He didn't want to be within ten feet of that boy, and his horrible teasing, always accompanied by a signature sneer. His voice was more annoying than anything else he had ever heard; so out of tune and misplaced to his musical ears.

"You'll get it eventually. Just be patient, my scorpion." Draco said quietly and his eyes went from his son to Harry. "Hello, Potter." The venom was still so prominent in his voice, even after six years. "Have you brought your unwanted son here to get his wand? I'm afraid you will have to wait for wizards who deserve their wands."

Harry just shrugged. He was furious on the inside, of course, (That bloody bastard can't talk about my pup that way…) but he didn't want to give Draco the satisfaction. "That's alright. We'll just wait right here for your son to find the wand for him." And then he grinned. "If he ever does. At the rate you're going, he may have it by his second year." Nanda saw his smile was so sincere, but his words were betraying that. He knew his papa didn't like the Malfoys (and he could see why, for they were so snotty and proud), but he hadn't ever seen him be so awful to another person. Draco must have done something to make his papa that way. And in that moment, he decided he didn't want to be friends with Scorpius (not that he ever really intended to, but he would make extra sure they didn't).

The man came back and lifted his spectacles back onto his nose when he saw them. "My, my. Is that Harry Potter?" He smiled and put the wand box he had in his hands down for a moment while he went to shake Harry's hand. "What a pleasure to meet you. I'm Gerbold. My father gave you your wand. Oh, what a pleasure." His eyes were a pale blue, not like his father's silver ones, but probably like his mother (or some other relative; Harry didn't know the family's genetics).

Harry smiled, half to be polite to Gerbold, half to show Draco he was obviously more important than he was. "Very nice to meet you, too. Your father was a great man."

Gerbold released his hand. "What do you need, Mr. Potter?"

"Oh, call me Harry. I'm here to get my son his first wand."

"Oh, of course, of course. Let me see the boy." Harry made a gesture with his hands to Nanda right next to him. "My…" He held one side of his spectacles and looked closer at him. "Yes, I've got just the wand for you. Oh, it will be the perfect fit…" he trailed off as he turned around and went to a rather large pile of wands on the side wall in the far corner of the shop. "My father's father made this, whom I'm named after," he muttered, pulling a wand box from the shelf without his ladder. "It has been without any owner, but yes, I can see how it would fit you perfectly." Harry all but snickered at the obvious neglect the Malfoys were receiving. Gerbold made his way back to the front of the room where they stood. "Alder with unicorn hair." He presented it to Nanda. "9 ¾ inches."

Harry's eyebrows knit together. Nine and three quarters…that sounds so familiar. Nanda carefully took the wand from Gerbold's hand, and looked over it. It had a nice brown color that reminded him of a guitar he had once seen in a muggle store window, with a round sort of bulge at the bottom, much like the opening of a trumpet, and small carvings along the sides all the way to the tip, almost like fire, with the pointed tips but rounded lines. He liked it; it felt nice in his hands, like all the music that was trapped in his hands could flow into it freely. But he was sure he would be like everyone else, and try many more wands before the he found the right one.

"Well go on. Give it a wave."

Nanda gave a small smile and looked around for something he couldn't break (or something equally as awful) and found a small chair by the front wall of wands close by. I hope I don't get anything else, he thought, Maybe, I could get closer to it... but he didn't take a step. He flicked the wand at the chair, and it pulled itself over just in front of him. He smiled bigger and sat in it. "I rather like this one."

Gerbolt smiled too. "Very well done. That wand is just the right fit. It should be great for summoning, as well as dueling. Did you know…" he said, invading Nanda's bubble of space just a hair. "…that wood is perfect for making pipes, and flutes." His pale blues looked in Nanda's wide hazel ones. Nanda thought about how odd he was, and how in the world did he know he would be interested in pipes and flutes? But of course, he would have to find some more alder wood and see if he can't make a nice flute with it…

"So that's his wand?" Harry was surprised. He hadn't ever met a wizard who got their wand on the first try. It made having Malfoy there watching all the better. "Well, I suppose that saves you a lot of time and work, then." Harry walked over to the counter and paid for the wand. Nanda seemed so excited, he wanted to make sure Tom didn't miss a moment of it. After he finished paying, he turned to Draco and his son. "Sorry for distracting from your search. We were really quick for you. I hope you find a wand before school starts."

With that, he grabbed Nanda, who was still marveling at his new wand, and quickly disapparated before Draco could reply.

Yay! That was a fun chapter. :) Review if you can! M'kay, thanks.