Chapter 5
The following morning, Harry was up early, but not earlier than Molly. They agreed to make scones for breakfast to go along with bacon and eggs.
The smell of food brought the rest of the Weasleys down. They all raved about the scones, which were a combination of both Harry and Molly's recipes.
Arthur went off to work, Molly and the four children had a reading lesson, mostly on potions, a subject Molly had shown a particular talent for in her years at Hogwarts. By way of an assignment, she had the children bundle up against the February cold, then go out to the woods and forage for potions ingredients.
As soon as they entered the forest, Luna led Harry up the slippery, lichen covered branches of a Sessile oak to where clumps of mistletoe grew.
"Don't we have to worry about nargles?" Harry asked.
Luna smiled, "You're learning. Right now the nargles are hibernating. We just have to beat the mistletoe against the tree trunk when we get down to dislodge them."
Ten minutes into the 'field trip,' Luna had armloads of athelas and dried rosemary, along with mistletoe and holly.
"Blimey," Ron shouted, looking shocked, "How do you do that?"
"Mum and I used to grow a lot of our own potions ingredients, so I guess I simply know it when I see it."
Harry knew that magically reactive plants would be infested with nargelites, which he couldn't see, but that was okay. Hell, for that matter, he hadn't known magic existed six weeks before.
Ron smiled and said, "How's about I take this stuff to mum, and you three keep gathering, okay?"
That seemed reasonable, so, "Okay."
An hour later, Ron hadn't come back, and the remaining trio had as much magical flora as they could carry.
When they arrived in the Weasley kitchen, it was to see Ron sitting at the table, destroying a heap of biscuits, sipping tea.
Ginny seethed, "You were supposed to come back and help us. Some of these roots were the very devil to pull up out of the frozen ground!"
"You were doin' fine wifout me," he mumbled through a mouthful of biscuit. "And mum said that I'd already brought back enough plant stuff."
Luna was calm in her delivery, but anyone with half a brain could tell she was upset at having been taken advantage of. "Plants that you didn't collect. Wasn't that the idea, Mrs Weasley, so that we could all find the best plants for potions?"
Molly didn't mean to be a living, breathing, cliché for red-heads, but seeing sweet little Luna Lovegood taken advantage of lit her short fuse. The browbeating began with a ninety-seven decibel, "Ronald Bilius Weasley!" The tirade ended with, "You'll spend the rest of today changing the straw in the chicken coops and you've seen your last biscuit for a month!" With a flourish, Molly vanished the platter of biscuits and sent her youngest disappointment scurrying for the door.
Ginny had to calm her mother down, "Here, Mum, have a chair; cuppa tea?"
A deep breath, exhaled slowly and Molly Weasley was her old, sweet self again.
"We could all have one, dear, thank you."
Ginny smiled, "Some biscuits would be nice…"
Molly chuckled, waved her wand and the platter re-appeared.
"I didn't vanish them, just disillusioned them so Ronald would think I had. Tuck in, Dears."
Inside the low-ceilinged chicken coop, Ronald Weasley seethed, in a mocking, whinging voice he whined, "Wasn't that the idea Missus? Nyah, nyah, blah, blah. Just you wait, Looney, you'll get yours."
He'd chased the chickens out of their warm nests into the cold February air, rather than just shuffle them from one side to the other. Bullying chickens might have made him feel better, but it would cost the Weasleys half their flock from pneumonia.
Along with half their egg-money.
Money that Molly had been counting on to buy new school robes for her youngest son.
Oh well, they'd had to make do before.
)O(
Saturday morning came early, Luna and Harry excused themselves after breakfast so that they could make the weekly Quibbler deliveries.
Ginny asked, "Can I come, too?"
"If it's okay with your Mum."
"Oh Mum, may I go, please?"
"Run along dears, we'll have some nice fresh bread and soup for lunch when you get back."
Harry and the girls ran up Stoatshead Hill, slipping occasionally in the mud created by the recent thaw. Luckily, no one fell over. The trio stomped their feet before entering the Rook Tower, where Xeno had pre-printed the Quibblers for the two weeks he'd planned to be gone. They were so excited that they didn't notice the furtive ginger following them apace.
"Harry, if you'll put the stacks for local subscriptions in my red cart, Ginny and I can start the Floo deliveries."
"Right."
He hefted the two heavy bundles of paper into the cart, then went inside to help the girls band the Floo deliveries.
)O(
Ron strolled up to the cart, looked down the other side of the hill from the Burrow, and smiled. Originally, he'd planned to hide the Quibblers up a tree, and make "Looney" sweat a little, but this was much better. This was easier. This didn't require a lot of effort on his part. He pulled the heavy-laden cart around, pointed it in the right direction, then gave it a shove.
Hands in his pockets, feeling very pleased with himself, he strolled down the hill for home.
)O(
With three people banding, calling out addresses and pitching papers, the Floo deliveries were done in record time.
Very pleased with their progress, Luna pulled two one-pound notes from the biscuit jar so they could have ice-cream or perhaps a hot chocolate when they were done.
They stepped out of the front door and noticed the cart was conspicuous by its absence.
"Um, Harry? Where's my little red cart?"
"Right here, uh, well, it was. I left it right here. Could it have rolled off?"
They started to split up until Ginny noticed the tracks. The heavily laden conveyance left tracks in the muddy soil.
At the bottom of the steep hill was the overturned cart, and two large bundles of newspapers, all splattered with mud.
"How?"
Luna tried not to cry, but in the face of such petty cruelty, how could she not?
"Some, someone pushed my cart down the hill…"
She couldn't say anymore, she just buried her head in Harry's shoulder and cried.
Ginny patted her back and said, "Well, nothing to do but to do it," and started down the steep slope.
"Ginny, wait." Harry said, "I'll go, I'm the one who left it outside."
"Yeah, but you didn't pull it around the tower and roll it off the top of the hill."
Looking down they saw the distinctive pattern of Wellington boot tracks.
"Whoever did it went that way." Harry said.
No one had to say that he was pointing in the direction of the Burrow.
Luna touched both their shoulders and said, "Give me a minute, before you try to climb down, okay? It's steep and muddy."
She went into the house and came out with her and Harry's wands.
Ginny's eyes went wide, "You have wands?"
"Ollivander, the wand maker, is my Daddy's uncle."
Luna turned to Harry, "Accio on three, ready?"
"I've never tried to summon anything this big before."
Luna grinned, then, in a low growling voice, said, "Size matters not!"
"Accio Quibblers on three, two, one… Accio Quibblers!"
The two thick bundles of papers shook, then, one after the other, rolled up the slippery slope, coming to rest at Luna's feet.
Harry looked back down the hill, pointed his wand and said, "Accio cart."
The little red conveyance righted itself, then rolled up the hill.
Luna said, "Quick, help me get these muddy papers inside, off the wet ground."
Once inside, Luna snipped the bundling twine, then set aside the most mud-soaked papers.
"Not too bad," she said, "help me with an evanesco, okay?"
Harry nodded.
Evanesco removed the mud, but left the edges a bit wet. Still, it could have been worse. Five more feet and the wagon and papers would have been in the stream, now a muddy torrent from the recent snow melt.
"Daddy always prints a few extra copies."
With what they were able to salvage, plus Xeno's extras, there were just enough Quibblers left to fill the local subscriptions.
Harry, Luna and Ginny made their rounds, and even had a complimentary copy for the proprietress of the local ice-cream shop. Who then reciprocated with complementary mugs of hot cocoa for the hard working people of the "fourth estate."
Walking back to the burrow, Ginny asked, "What will we do about Ron?"
Harry looked at Luna, who raised one eyebrow, "If we accuse him of dumping our papers, he'll just deny it."
Ginny looked thoughtful, "If there was any kind of evidence."
Harry said, "There were those footprints heading for the Burrow."
Ginny shook her head, "They'll stop at the gravel road."
Luna shook her head, resignedly, "We'll just have to trust and believe in the Rule of Three."
Ginny, seething now, kicked a semi-dried lump of mud, "Maybe, maybe not."
)O(
When they got back to the Burrow, Molly was in the barn berating Ron about something as the three children removed their muddy Wellingtons.
Harry frowned, "Ron's Wellies look practically new."
Ginny, still doing a slow boil from her brother's "prank" said, "Yeah, newly washed. Luna, why don't you and Harry go help Mum with the goats, I'll be in the house."
Molly was relieved to hear that the paper deliveries went well, after a small spot of bother.
Ron perked up at that, "Yeah, what happened?"
Harry shrugged, "Luna's little red cart did a runner. Got some mud on a few papers is all."
That had Ron curious, "Just a little mud, eh?"
Luna, looking up from the goat she was milking said, "Nothing that couldn't be cleaned up in a trice."
Ginny came in with another pail, "Need a hand, Mum?"
"Thank you, Ginny Love, I can go stir the soup."
"Smelled like chicken soup, Mum."
"Well, it's like your father always says, if a Weasley is having a chicken for supper, one of them is sick."
"Who got sick?"
"Miss Maribell, I'm afraid we're going to have chicken for a few more days, half the flock is looking poorly. Like they've been left out in the cold or something."
Molly wiped her hands on the damp towel she always seemed to carry and walked toward the house.
Ginny looked sad, "Miss Maribell was gentle, and a good layer, gave us a dozen eggs a week."
From the house came an altogether too familiar roar.
"Ronald Bilius Weasley!"
Ginny grinned as Ron asked, "Blimey, what now?"
After a few minutes, Ginny said, "Let's go."
The trio went to the kitchen door, and saw Ron's Wellingtons, covered in mud, and muddy footprints tracking through the kitchen and up to his room, then down again.
Mrs Weasley was making him clean up the mess the muggle way, with broom and mop and bucket.
"But I didn't, Mum, I swear!"
Harry asked, "Didn't what, Ronald? Didn't climb up Stoatshead Hill, didn't push the cart full of newspapers down the steep slope and almost into the stream?"
Ashen faced, Ron asked, "How did you know?"
Luna said, "We didn't, not for sure, 'til just now."
Molly was beyond anger. In a voice that was more scary than anything heard before because of its lack of volume she said, "Go to your room, Ronald. Stay there until your father gets home."
With tears in her eyes, she looked at Luna, "I don't know what to say, Dear. I don't know what to do. How could any son of ours be so mean spirited?"
Lunch was taken in silence.
"The livestock is well tended, Dears. Why don't you try to have a little fun this afternoon?" a bit of twinkle came into her eye, "If you promise not to get caught you can borrow some brooms from the broomshed."
The three children beamed, "Really?"
"Really, really. Now go! Fly, have some fun."
They didn't have to be told twice.
In his room, Ron couldn't believe his bad luck. How could he have been trapped so easily? It couldn't get worse.
"Woo - who!"
He looked outside to see Harry and Looney and Ginny flying on the family broomsticks.
It was worse.
)O(
By the time Arthur came home, some normalcy had been restored. Harry and the girls were stirring pots making something that Harry called La-zahn-yah. Whatever it was, it smelled wonderful.
He sighed as he put the Daily Prophet on the kitchen table. The headline read,
BOY WHO LIVED NO MORE?
By Matthew Smythe
According to sources in the Muggle Press, Harry James Potter, 10 who had lived in Little Whinging, Surrey, was declared missing, feared dead. His own muggle relatives are being held in an undisclosed location, on charges of abuse and neglect. The hero of the Wizarding World has, apparently, for the past nine years, been the victim of abuse at the hands of Lily Potters sister, Petunia Dursley and her Husband, Vernon Dursley… Continued on page 2.
Ginny saw the headline, dropped the stirring spoon and ran to her room.
Luna followed.
Ginny was sprawled on her bed, sobbing.
"It doesn't say he's dead, Ginny."
"Buh, but wha, what if he, he is… Dead?"
"Then we'll have to be brave, like he was; and go on living, just like he'd want us to."
)O(
Harry felt like he was in a story he'd read, two years before, Tom Sawyer, by Mark Twain. In it, the boy, Tom, was thought to be dead, and he went to his own funeral. As Harry sat around the Weasley dinner table, hearing about how brave and strong he must have been as a small child, and how could those muggles have been so cruel.
That's when he realized.
No one knew Harry Potter.
No one.
The one who came closest was sitting to his right, holding his hand, comforting him.
The rest of the Weasley stay was subdued, to say the least, Ron kept his distance, only talking when asked a direct question, going back to his room when he finished his chores. It was a self-imposed exile, but no one complained. Sometimes a boy has to be left alone, to sit and think.
)O(
When Xeno emerged from his own fireplace floo connection it was to a cheerful, "Welcome home, Daddy! Welcome back, Xeno!"
Harry had baked a cake, Xeno's favourite Chocolate with raspberry filling, and the three had fun catching up.
"You did an accio on two bundles of paper and a cart?"
"You fought a medicine man for the chance to see a demiguese-sloth?"
Harry smirked, "Who won?"
"He did," Xeno said and winked, "I got killed, of course."
Saying this, the world-traveling cryptozoologist pulled a leather bag from under his chair.
He reached in and pulled out his hand, well, they assumed it was his hand, because his hand disappeared at the wrist.
"This is a bag of the finest demiguese fur in the world, nothing, not even old Mad-eye moody's eye can penetrate it."
"What are you going to do with it, Daddy?"
"I'm going to borrow Molly Weasley's spinning wheel and charmed knitting needles and have this wool woven into the finest invisibility cloak since the Peverell brothers."
Harry looked confused, "Will there be enough for that?"
Luna laughed, "Harry, it's a bottomless bag, I'll wager Daddy has enough wool for two cloaks."
Xeno sighed, then shook his head, "No, not two." Then he smiled and held up three fingers.
"Three? You're joking, three!"
)O(
Winter gave way, grudgingly to spring. Harry celebrated his first Vernal Equinox, very important in the farming community that was Ottery Saint Catchpole. He finally got the reason why there were eggs and bunnies and the like. A festival of fertility and re-birth, he loved the irony in that the holiest of days in the Christian calendar was a thinly veiled Pagan Celebration. Even the date was from the Lunar Calendar, the first Sunday after the first full moon following the vernal equinox.
May first brought Beltane.
"An odd celebration," Harry thought, "but cool."
The bonfire was fun, and all the young couples seemed to be enjoying themselves, but it was all too mysterious to a pair of children just ten years old.
"Let me guess," Luna asked, irritated, "I'll understand it better when I'm older?"
Xeno smiled, kissed her forehead and said, "That's my little genius."
June brought the Sabbat of Litha, four couples from the village, who had been especially close during Beltane, chose that day to be married - the kindly vicar accommodated them all.
June also brought Harry's Hogwarts letter.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,
Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)
Dear Mr. Evans,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
UNIFORM
First-year students will require:
sets of plain work robes (black)
plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags.
COURSE BOOKS
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)
by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi
by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection
by Quentin Trimble
OTHER EQUIPMENT
1 wand
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring and owl OR a cat OR a toad.
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS
Xeno read over the letter, almost exactly the same form-letter he'd received twenty-one years before. He looked fondly at his charge and said, "There's nothing for it, son, we're going to have to endure a day of shopping."
Harry groaned while Luna bounced on her heels and applauded.
"We have to gird our loins, prepare as best we can, fortify…"
Harry grinned, "Eat Chinese?"
"Exactly!"
Their favorite Chinese restaurant, the Wok n' Roll, was one block down from the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, and Xeno would eat there at the drop of a hat.
Xeno, Luna and Harry emerged from the floo without incident.
"That's the secret, lad, just keep your knees slightly bent, anticipate the side-to-side slide motion and you're good."
Just before leaving the cauldron, they removed their outer robes so that they wouldn't stand out too much in muggle London.
As they left the dark pub, they were all temporarily blinded by bright sunshine and quite literally walked into three people who were standing just outside the entrance.
"Sorry!"
"Beg pardon!"
"Sorry!"
They had quite literally 'run into' a family of three, husband and wife and young daughter.
Xeno asked, "Excuse me for asking, but do you need help? You look a bit lost."
The girl, about Harry's age from the look of her, with an amazingly full head of brown, kinky hair said, "I can see the entrance, but Mum and Dad can't seem to."
Xeno understood, "Going to Hogwarts this year, sweetheart?"
"Yes! Are you, um," the girl lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper, "witches?"
Xeno decided to go with that for now, he'd correct them later, "Yes, we are, Harry here will be starting this year, and Luna next."
The young father held out his hand and introduced himself, "Granger, Fredrick Granger. And this is my wife, the beautiful Helen, and our daughter Hermione."
"I'm Xenophilius Lovegood, this is my daughter, Luna and our very good friend, Harold."
Harry took Mr Granger's hand, "Harold Evans, but please, call me Harry."
Helen offered her hand, which Harry took, "I see you love the classics too, Helen of Troy had a daughter Hermione."
Hermione practically squealed, "You've read Homer?"
"Well, not in the original Greek…"
The Grangers both laughed, "You are the first person ever to make the connection between their names. Good on you, lad!"
Xeno interrupted, "We have to do our school shopping too, have you already eaten?"
"No…"
"Well, I hope you like Chinese, then, my treat, I insist!"
The six were instant friends, and enjoyed their lunch family style, where everyone ordered something different and shared with everyone else.
During lunch, Xeno explained some of the positive points of having a witch in the family, how magicals tended to be healthier and live longer than non-magicals, and the ease of travel and transportation, which the adult Grangers would be able to take advantage of once Hermione was of age.
He was candid about the less savory aspects of the Wizarding world.
"I'm a newspaper publisher, and I have to deal with people in every walk of life, and you have to know that there is an artificial caste system here in Magical Britain. Blood is everything. If anyone asks for your blood 'status,' simply tell them that you've been pure for nine generations. What you mean is that you're pure muggle, but they don't have to know that. It really doesn't matter a tinker's dam what your actual 'blood' is, magical ability is the first, most important thing. But perception is everything.
Take Harry here, if I were to introduce him as the Crown Prince, Heir to the Throne of Magical Guyana, British "pureblood" witches and wizards would fall all over themselves trying to get into his good graces. The fact that there is no Royal Family of Guyana won't even enter into it. Perception is everything to these idiots."
Hermione caught on quickly, "I could be Prince Harry's royal, what?"
Xeno thought, "Well, if you were older, you could be his Royal Consort, that's like…"
"Oh, I know, like Victoria and Albert, only the other way around."
Luna smiled, "And Harry would be addressed as 'Your Highness,' and you would be addressed as 'Your Grace'."
Hermione smiled, raised her chin and looked down her nose at everyone, "I like it! You may kowtow if you wish."
Harry laughed, "I love it. I was going to go for the Duke of Bilgewater, myself, but it seems I've been elevated."
Hermione smiled broadly, "Homer and Clemens, you are well read. I am impressed my liege."
Just then the food arrived.
"Try the lo mein, it's excellent!"
"More tea?"
Properly fortified, they made their way into the alley.
Luna gave the Grangers a quick primer on goblin customs, so that when the 'entourage' entered Gringotts they were treated with deference and afforded sterling service.
The school-bound children made the complete rounds without incidence, until Madame Malkins.
Harry, Hermione and Luna had gone ahead to be fitted for school robes.
As they entered the tailors, there was one customer being fitted, a girl with a dark pageboy and an unfortunately pug nose.
Madame Malkin was pinning the girl's robe and called over her shoulder, "Hogwarts, dears?"
"Yes, Madame."
"And who are you supposed to be?" the girl being fitted asked.
Luna stepped up, "Allow me, my liege."
She stood tall and said, "You are addressing His Highness, Harold, Crown Prince and Heir to the Throne of Guyana, and his Royal Consort, Her Grace, the Lady Hermione. And whom did you say you were?"
The girl paled, "Sus, sorry, My Grace, I mean, Your Grace, I mean…"
She tried to curtsey, but pins along her seams made the effort painful.
Harry, barely able to control his mirth, saw that Madame Malkin was busy and said, "We shall return later, Madame."
"It will be my honor, Your Highness."
Pansy Parkinson wanted to cry.
Once they were well away from the tailor shop, Harry hugged Luna to one side and Hermione to the other as they laughed.
"Oh, Luna, I will have to name you High Chamberlain, Grand Vizier and Major Domo!"
Hermione snickered, "Magical Guyana has a woman in such a high office?"
Luna laughed, "Magical Guyana is very forward-thinking. Oh, look, Eeylops!"
The three children ran into Eeylops Owl Emporium and were nearly overcome by the selection there.
Up one aisle and down the next, owls of every description.
Harry spotted a snowy owl in a cage that seemed too small.
"Hey, aren't you pretty?"
The owl looked with baleful eyes.
Harry looked around and saw very few of the owls were in cages and wondered why this one was.
"Do you want out?"
With a whistle and a "Prek, prek!" the owl nodded.
Carefully, not making any sudden moves, Harry undid the latch, allowing the cage to clam-shell open.
The owl spread its wings, barked twice and flew to the rafters.
"Hey, boy! Why'd you let her out? Took me all day just to get her in there!"
"She was uncomfortable, cooped up in that tiny cage."
"Easy for you to say, you don't have to manage two hundred birds every day."
"One-hundred, ninety-nine."
"What?"
"I'll take her, that way it's one less bird for you to bother with."
The old proprietor shook his head, "And how do you figure I can get her down from the rafters?"
"Can't you just call her?"
"Her? She'd just as soon take me nose off for a button. Tell you what, you call her down and you can have her for nine galleons, that's cost, that is."
"Throw in a perch and you've got a deal."
"Done!"
He turned around and spotted the snowy owl in a far rafter looking down at him.
"Come on, girl, don't you want to go home with me?"
The shop keeper sniggered, "I'll catch her for you if I have to, but it'll be twenty galleons for hazardous duty."
Harry looked up again, "Hey, sweetheart, don't you want to piss off this old duffer?"
With a whistle and a "Prek, prek, prek!" the owl flew down to Harry's outstretched arm.
"That's my good girl!"
The bird moved up Harry's arm to stand on his shoulder.
"You'll be wantin' a cage."
"Nope, no cage, never a cage for my pretty girl."
"Suit yerself, but when matin' season comes around, you're gonna need another owl."
Harry saw an assortment of owl treats and bought one of each, then read the post-owl contract.
"Amazing, she'll always know where I am, can fly though 'apparation space' what is that?"
"When you turn seventeen, you can apply for your apparation license. It is a way to travel by magically disappearing in one place and appearing in another. Apparation, see?"
"Um, yeah, I guess."
"Nine galleons for the harridan and two sickles for the treats."
)O(
Stepping out of the Owl Emporium, Harry came upon a small, pudgy boy, crying on the footpath.
"Hey, you okay?"
The boy lifted his eyes to Harry's and shook his head, "No, I lost it. I lost it and Nan's gonna kill me. It, it was my dad's…"
"What was it?"
"My dad's wand."
Harry thought for a moment, then said, "Uncle Ollie says you need your own wand, you can use someone else's, but it won't work. Believe me, I know. I tried to use wands that weren't mine and my magic was all wonky."
Without realizing it, Harry had led his new friend to Ollivander's, "I'm Harold, Harold Evans, but please, call me Harry."
"Neville Longbottom."
"We'll get you fixed up."
Neville whispered, "I haven't any money, Nan keeps it for me."
"Uncle Ollie?"
Ollivander slid into view on his rolling ladder, "Yes, Harry?"
"Can my friend, Neville, get a wand on account?"
"Account?" the old wand-maker asked.
"Yeah, on account a he's got no money!"
Ollivander looked hard at Neville, "Ah, Mister Longbottom. I wondered when I'd be seeing you here. Seems like yesterday your mother and father were in here getting their wands."
In a small, embarrassed voice, Neville said, "I lost my dad's wand."
"Eleven inches, Sessile Oak, very flexible, with a dragon's heart string."
"You've seen it?" Neville asked, hopefully.
"Of course, I was the one who sold it to your father, oh, before you were born."
Crestfallen, "How am I going to explain this to Nan, you know, my grandmother?"
"Indeed I do. Ten inches, teak with a unicorn hair core, very, very rigid."
"Oh, you do know my Nan."
Ollivander thought for a moment, then scrambled down the ladder and pulled a box full of old, worn out wands.
"Do you see on that is close in appearance to your father's?"
Neville rooted around the box and pulled one out, "This one, sir. This one is close."
Ollivander nodded, placed the wand on the countertop and incanted, "Adura talea!"
The wand spit yellow, then red flames from both ends, charring and blackening the handle and shaft.
"I'm sorry to say, Mister Longbottom, that your father's wand has suffered damage from having too much magic forced through it by a potentially powerful wizard for whom it was not properly matched. Remember, the wand chooses the wizard."
"I can offer you a replacement wand at half price…"
Neville was about to object that he really didn't have any money, when Ollivander raised his hands and said, "Which you can pay me the next time you see me. Fair enough?"
"More than fair, sir."
Harry left Neville in "Uncle Ollie's" capable hands.
)O(
He knew he'd find the girls in Flourish and Blotts, walking in with the snowy owl on his shoulder made him an instant celebrity.
"Oh, what a beautiful owl, what's his name?"
"I was thinking of calling her Hedy."
"Preck, eck!"
"Oh, you don't like that?"
The owl stared.
Luna asked, "How about Hedwig? It's more formal than Hedy."
The owl bobbed her head twice.
"I'll take that as a yes. Hedwig it is, then."
Hermione smiled, "Hail Hedwig, Beloved Herald to Harold, Crown Prince, Heir to the throne of Guyana."
Both girls curtseyed, which Hedwig accepted as her due.
Other patrons in the store heard the exchange and added fuel to the rumors that Diagon Alley was being visited by royals.
"The Prince has a herald who's an owl animagus!"
"He's all of ten years old an he's already got a consort!"
"Damn ferriners!"
All told it was a full day of shopping and bonding.
Hermione had made two good friends in Harry and Luna, and the Grangers had their first magical friends as well.
With promises to visit and exchange mail over the summer, the two families made their way home.
)O(
Huge thanks, as always, to my brilliant Brit Picker, Tommy King, for reminding me that certain words just don't roll off a proper British tongue, and that, while I had a little red wagon, my Brit cousins had carts.
Hogwarts coming up. Now, unless Dumbledore is dumb as a door, he should suss out Harry's secret identity, right? No simple makeover is going to fool the Headmaster.
Then again, Albus has a lot on his mind. He's lost his positions on the Wizengamot, and the ICW. The goblins are also intentionally keeping him off balance.
Add to that, the last time Dumbles saw Harry, he was a timid, growth stunted ten year old. Now he's taller, much more confident in his abilities. He has friends, both magical and muggle, is outgoing, gregarious. For the record, that's called social camouflage.
Oh, and remember the chameleon cuff, the one he always wears on his arm? Not only does it mask his magical signature, it hides his mind from even the most skilled legilimens.
That will be significant shortly.