Title: Masquerade

See first chapter for disclaimer and summary.

Author: ShaeLynn Teelle

Polite constructive criticism is welcome; FLAMES WILL BE FED TO THE DRAGON IN MY BED.

Chapter 4

- 12 years old-

Harry wondered if perhaps he was becoming too accustomed to hiding his pain, too good. He had nearly forgotten for a short time that he was injured. The floo trip had reminded him, harshly. It took longer than it should have for him to pick himself up off the floor. Then, before he could get his bearings back, he was forced to hide and Draco Malfoy and his father entered.

Their interruption gave him time to change his cloak from the Hogwarts one it was, into something more voluminous, more able to be concealed beneath. Then, he waited a moment and followed the two blonds from the shop. He walked down the alley, keeping to the shadows as he went, and looked for the tell-tale door.

There, behind the cart of an old hag, shone the emblem, brighter to Harry's eyes than to any not looking for it. He veered across the alley, dodging between adult wizards and hags, keeping his shoulders hunched, the cloak closed around him, and the hood covering his face.

As he skirted around the last hag's cart, she tried to gain his attention, even going so far as to grab his arm. A stinging hex was cast on the claw-like appendage and the hag found the wand responsible between her eyes in an instant.

Harry growled at the woman coldly, making her back away from him. "Do not ever touch me."

Then, he slipped into the shop, the door closing softly behind him. The shop seemed dusty and almost had a feeling of abandonment to it instead of the welcome he usually could feel, though Harry could still see the bins filled with wares that he had spent so much time near. For a moment he wondered if he had entered the wrong shop when William popped his head out of the back doorway.

"Noir! I did not think you would be entering through that entrance or I would have warned you. Come into the back and I will explain," William said quickly, for as soon as Harry had seen him, he'd dropped his mask, swaying slightly with his pain.

He managed to follow William into the back before he nearly collapsed into a chair at the small table. he noted absently, as the older man was collecting several potions, that a new shipment of amber and citrine had come in and were spread out on the other side of the table.

As Harry accepted one of the vials, the stronger healing one he noted, his other hand reached out and plucked up one of the smaller pieces of amber. He drank both potions, only allowing a few moments between them to settle, and his fingers wandered over the stone as though memorizing it by feel alone.

William chuckled quietly as he watched Harry's subconscious actions. "I see you have discovered another stone."

Harry looked down at the stone in surprise, but then hummed quietly in agreement. There was silence in the room for a time, Harry became lost in his thoughts and William went back to his sorting, looking carefully through the stones on the table.

"Thank you."

William looked up, startled. Harry had never been anything short of absolutely polite and the boy showed his gratitude without ever saying it. There was an understanding between them, mostly unspoken, but it had always been clear to both.

"What happened?"

It was another thing that was never brought up. William knew that Harry was abused and neglected by his relatives, he would have had to be blind and deaf to not catch that, and while the two skirted the issue occasionally in discussion, it was never completely brought up.

Harry froze for a moment before he visibly sagged in his chair. One hand ran down over his face, the fingers digging slightly into his eyes beneath his glasses. Harry had never wished to speak of it and, as William had been able to heal and help him when he came, he waited for Harry to admit it out loud.

"Things were okay. Better than they have been in a while. Then, a house elf shows up and performs magic, interrupting a dinner for potential clients of my… uncle's business. A letter came from the Ministry informing me to stop using magic or I'd be expelled. They saw it first. Believing I could do magic had kept them too frightened to do much… damage. Some fellow Gryffindors-" At that Harry shared a smirk with the older man. "-showed up and literally broke me out of the house. I've been there since."

William nodded, "So tell me, is there anything exciting happening at Hogwarts? Miina and I have a relation there, but he tells us very little."

The smirk grew into a full smile on Harry's face and his eyes lit from within. "Well, after I convinced the sorting hat to put me in Gryffindor…"

- 12 years old - Christmas

Harry sat hunched in his bed behind the closed curtains, hands working diligently as his wand illuminated the small space. Before he'd had to leave William's shop, the man had shown him how to reinforce his wand with stones by embedding them into the very wood itself.

It had taken Harry nearly three months of trying almost nightly to make it work. He had owled the man several times to ensure he was performing the steps correctly and received the answer to another question from that summer within the missives. When he'd left the shop, after several hours of being there, he'd found that almost no time had passed out in the alley. He'd ducked into a corner and changed his cloak back, but had been mystified at what had happened.

Now he knew. There were charms on the Knockturn Alley entrance. One to deter any that were looking for trouble, one to make the shop seem less than it was, and a third that nearly stopped time for any whom entered.

He chuckled as he picked up the patterned stone from beside him on the bed. It was a dendritic agate, to allow the magic to flow more smoothly from him into the wand. A jet was embedded on the underside, just above where his fingers gripped the handle and the agate so that it touched his palm when in use. A sliver of smoky quartz was embedded at the very end, the bottom of the wand, shining darkly in the dim light.

He performed his work at night, needing three days to complete so he still had time to sleep and because the process drained his energy. But he had not had a nightmare since beginning the work and his wand was more powerful than ever, though he had to hide that fact very closely.

At each step, the changes had to be concealed and that took nearly more energy than the entire process as he was weaving the glamour charm over the wand itself rather than through it. Harry had not realized it yet, but he was performing the first steps to no longer needing a wand as he pulled the magic from himself into the wand, rather than the wand pulling the magic for him.

He smiled as the new stone was hidden and undid the secrecy charms on his curtains. The light went out and Harry's eyes closed, his wand held tightly in his hand beneath his pillow.

- 12 years old - Year End

Harry clutched the sword tightly in his hand. He had seen the stones embedded in the hilt and began to push his magic out like he had when he placed the stones in his own wand. He could feel the sword warming in his hand as it charged with power. Then, he engaged the Basilisk.

Hours later in the safety of his dorm and the closed curtains of his bed, Harry allowed himself to laugh quietly. He was able to keep his laughter in check while in Dumbledore's office. It had not been loyalty to the Headmaster that had called the phoenix to him. The words he had spoken held no more purpose than to infuriate the pre-Voldemort teenager.

The phoenix's presence had also confirmed a matter that Harry had been unconvinced of since he had taken William's teachings and added them into the context of the Wizarding World. There was more to Harry Potter than being the Boy-Who-Lived. Much more.

Harry had the stones he carried in his pockets everywhere spread out before him. Simply looking at them, Harry knew that some would be no more use than as paperweights any longer. He held his hand above them and without even touching them could sense the dry, dead feeling they gave off. He sighed. Those stones had gone through two years of Hogwarts with him and while he hated to replace them, he knew there would be no choice.

From the foot of his bed a bright flash of light caught his attention and Harry looked up slightly alarmed. Then, he recognized the creature there and relaxed, a smile crossing his face.

"Hullo, Fawkes. Thank you for your help in the chamber. I would not have made it out of there otherwise," Harry's words were truly thankful. "If I can ever help you, please let me know."

The phoenix bobbed his head a bit and then walked carefully across the bed covers until he stood above the laid out stones. Harry was beyond curious as he watched Fawkes scratch at the stones, pulling them in different directions. He noted that all those that he thought he'd need to replace were closest to the phoenix. Then, with tilted head, the phoenix began to allow a single shimmering tear to drop onto each stone, the liquid covering the entire stone with a slight glow.

"You can heal stones," Harry breathed out incredulously.

Again Fawkes bobbed his head.

"Would… Will you honor me with a few tears for my time away from Hogwarts. You likely do not know—"

Harry stopped as the phoenix gave a sad chirp and slowly seemed to nod his head again. Harry looked away, upset by the fact.

"Does anyone else know?"

The phoenix shook himself a bit, ruffling his feathers and crooned a short song that comforted Harry. The boy sighed and nodded to himself, trusting the magical creature.

"As you know what it is that I am returning to, will you honor me with your help when no one else in this castle will or can?"

Fawkes nodded once more and Harry hurriedly collected his smallest potions vial, one he had never used before. It was only large enough to hold about five drams, but he thought it was more than enough. An unbreakable charm was cast upon it before he held it out. The phoenix cried again for the twelve-year-old boy and filled the vial to the very top.

Afterwards, with Fawkes' approval, Harry placed the vial in the decorated bag William's daughter had made him alongside the healed stones and the few that had not been damaged. He fell asleep that night without his usual year end worries as Fawkes quietly sang a phoenix song for him. The nightmares did not return until his first night at the Dursleys.

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