When an owl had made its way into Harry's peripheral vision and began its descent with what appeared to be a letter, he heaved a huge sigh of relief at seeing the familiar Hogwarts branding with handwriting, that, while not McGonagall's, seemed familiar.
The Hogwarts letter read almost identical to the same one he had received when Harry was eleven, bar the textbooks and the rule that barred First Years from having their own broomstick.
He cursed himself for forgetting that Albus Dumbledore was only Deputy Headmaster at this time, and didn't have the powers and authority of the Headmaster. Armando Dippet.
He needed to go.
At first, Harry considered giving the man the benefit of the doubt, and he knew that things could be different now. But he was too great a risk. In his time, Riddle had Dippet in his pocket, with Dumbledore locked down, unable to ever take action in any meaningful way.
Harry knew there were scandals. He had read about them in the Prophet. How Dippet was suspect of bribing several board members on multiple occasions, how he was supposedly going to take a cut from the profits from Horace Slughorn's newest Potions textbook, how his friends in high places would bail him out every time. Not to mention that dealing with Riddle – whoever, however, would be easier when the Headmaster wasn't someone who had fallen for her tricks, hook, line, and sinker.
And the letter from Slughorn, hidden under his Hogwarts acceptance letter, only made Harry firmer in his conviction.
Dear Mr Evans,
Congratulations on getting admitted to Hogwarts! The process of your admission was much quicker than I originally expected, if you were wondering.
It is of the utmost importance you remain aware of a few things as you enter your First – or Fifth, year at Hogwarts.
The first is to watch out for the Deputy Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. He is aware of your transfer and has all but expressed suspicion at your entry and identity. He will likely look for any excuse to put you under watch or worse.
"Fuck," Harry almost shouted. He hadn't taken into account that Dumbledore himself might get suspicious; now, he needed a way to prove to the man he was trustworthy.
But it also didn't sound like Dumbledore to make assumptions about people he had never met. Or to try and put them under watch. Hell, he couldn't do that to Riddle.
Never trust strangers, Mr Evans.
Orson had also told him something about keeping watch on Dumbledore. Harry wondered…
The second is to make sure to meet me and a few friends in Compartment C when you board the Hogwarts Express. I think you will appreciate the networking opportunity.
Harry did not like the sound of that. At all. Horace Slughorn had friends of great importance, he had no doubt about that, but attention was exactly what Harry wanted to avoid – for now. Unless they were fellow students, Harry very strongly considered 'accidentally' forgetting about the meeting.
The third – and I stress this greatly –is to try and garner favour from the Headmaster, Armando Dippet. He is an incredibly important man allied with a number of pureblood families, and as intelligent he is intimidating. You'll find he has a blind spot when it comes to his students, though.
That would be very useful to Harry. He wondered if the man really did have a blind spot or if he merely stayed kind to the students who were children of the families he dealt with regularly. Harry detested the prospects of mingling with some of who he knew to be future Death Eaters.
Looking forward to your attendance,
Horace
Harry frowned at the personal address, but he had little time to mull over it when the letter in his hand burnt to a crisp and the remaining ashes flew out of his hand with a strong gust of wind.
"Guess he didn't want anyone else to get hold of it," Harry murmured to himself. He looked at the copy of the Prophet he had grabbed for today, which was fairly uneventful, bar the date; it was the thirtieth, a day before his birthday.
"Happy early birthday, Harry," he whispered.
Nearly a month in this strange new place, and he felt no more comfortable in it than he had the first day he'd been dropped in. If anything, he felt even more lost.
He needed a plan. One that aimed far higher than simply getting Dippet removed from his position of Headmaster. One that was more in line with what Harry planned to do before he had gotten thrown back in time. But things were different now. There was a war raging across the continent; Dumbledore hadn't ascended, Riddle was still only in the making, and Harry… Harry didn't belong here. This wasn't his place to meddle, and nor was it his time.
That mattered very little to him.
If it wasn't his time, Harry would make it his.
Harry was grateful that most of the shoppers at Diagon Alley were excited First Years and their parents, who had obviously been eager to introduce their children to an entire world of magic.
"Mama, look!" Harry heard a little girl call out as he walked by. "That boy looks like big brother!"
The woman gave him an apologetic smile as she shooed her daughter away from the entrance to Ollivander's shop, who thankfully, had just cleared out. The girl kept calling to him, and Harry just responded with a smile and wave of his hands.
He turned around to the familiar front of the wandshop; with far too many windows and yet, too little light. Harry was not a fool to miss the man standing right at the door, eyeing him as piercingly and curiously he had when he first arrived.
"Greetings, Mr Evans." Ollivander had opened the door before Harry could get there, and was waving him in. "I trust you've had a fine month?"
"Fine, yes," said Harry quietly, stepping into the shop, though quietly wondering why Ollivander was asking about his wellbeing. "You seem to be quite busy," the boy continued with an easy smile.
"I have time," the wandmaker returned. "You have my payment?"
"Double," said Harry, beginning to count out fourteen gold coins. "As we agreed upon."
Obviously, both knew that Ollivander had demanded the insane price he was paying, but Harry figured it was the polite thing to do.
"You keep your word," said Ollivander, his lips twitching into a smile. "No, Mr Evans, I think the original price would be more than fair."
Harry's eyes widened momentarily before he stopped counting and handed Ollivander the typical seven Galleons. "Thank you."
"You seem different, Mr Ollivander," noted Harry, politely he could. The man raised an eyebrow.
"You chose to make your way into my shop – normally, this time," he said. "Your wand has been working well?"
"Er," said Harry, "I actually have been meaning to ask you a question about that, sir."
Harry could see Ollivander's eyes lighten and his demeanor shift as soon as the words came out of his mouth. The love the man had for his craft was something else.
"The wand tempts me," said Harry. "Every time I try to cast a spell, it interferes and I have to will twice as hard for an otherwise normal spell to work."
"Curious," said Ollivander, giving Harry that same, piercing look. "Would you mind casting a spell for me?"
"Sure," said Harry. Ollivander directed him to aim at an empty shelf.
"Confractus," cast Harry. The shelf cracked into perfectly even split pieces of itself, collapsing onto the ground and shattering. Dust launched into the air that made him begin to cough, while Ollivander stared at him intently.
"Phenomenal control," the man complimented. "And I have never seen power like that from the likes of a teenager."
Harry smiled at the praise, but still looked at Ollivander for an answer. "Was anything wrong with the spell, sir?"
"The exact opposite, Mr Evans," said Ollivander, who didn't let Harry get another word in. "Give me your wand?"
Harry slowly handed over the Aspen-Spine combination to the man, who proceeded to cast a number of spells on it that Harry could barely make out, let alone understand.
The man proceeded to pace around the shop, continuing to cast spells on what Harry was sure were decades-old wands and boxes, some glowing, some not, and some outright dismantling themselves or shooting out of their boxes. Ollivander had begun grunting and talking to himself as he paced around, frustratedly grunting with every passing box.
That was before he stopped, freezing in place and turning his gaze back to Harry. He was instantly uncomfortable; the suspicion had returned, the confrontational look in the wandmaker's eyes was there again, and Ollivander seemed to be trying his hardest to read Harry's almost emotionless facial expression.
"What were the contents of your previous wand, Evans?" asked Ollivander. The accusation hadn't even needed to be spoken. Harry stayed locked in his place as the wandmaker met his gaze, like he was looking through his very mind.
"Holly, Phoenix Feather; 11 inches, nice and supple." Harry quoted directly, immediately regretting using future Ollivander's own words in front of his past self, even if he wouldn't recognize them.
"Interesting," said Ollivander, his voice low and questioning. Not quite a threat, but it was enough to keep Harry on edge. He said nothing.
"As it turns out, Mr Evans," continued Ollivander, resuming his pace, back and forth "Phoenix feathers are found only in the wands here at my shop. It has been that way for centuries," Harry opened his mouth to begin speaking, but a glare from the wandmaker let him know he hadn't finished.
Stupid, Harry chastised himself. You shouldn't have come here. You should've known something would come up.
"On one hand, you could be having me on," said Ollivander. "On the other, you are a wizard of such great talent and character that a phoenix has attached itself to you, and given you one of its feathers. And just as a coincidence, you happen to have thorough knowledge of the study of Wandlore and the craft of wandmaking," Ollivander finished, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
"Or the third," the wandmaker interrupted as Harry tried to speak again, "is that you stole it."
"Or the fourth," added Harry, full-on glaring the wandmaker, "is that Ollivanders' does not have as great a monopoly on such vital ingredients as it believes. And maybe, just that you missed something, sir."
"It is curious," said Ollivander, completely ignoring Harry' s retort. "It is curious that a boy sneaks past my wards around the same time a Holly and Phoenix feather wand goes missing from my shop. It is curious that he proceeds to ask for another wand, as though it would throw me off his scent, and carry no objection to my making him pay double for an already pricey artifact."
That couldn't be possible. Harry's wand vanished right as he first stepped in front of Ollivander's. It couldn't have been in two places at once.
Mysterious thing, time. Powerful, and when meddled with, dangerous.
"That's why you were so suspicious," murmured Harry. It was meant for himself, but Ollivander looked at him strangely. It made sense now. Harry would be on edge and grouchy too if a random teenager had snuck past the wards of his ancient family business right after one of his artifacts vanished.
"You just admitted to having had one of my wands, Evans," Ollivander reminded him. "What shall I do with you?"
"What if I told you I never stole anything?"
"I wouldn't believe you," snorted the young wandmaker.
"I guessed little else," returned Harry. Ollivander still had his gaze locked onto Harry's. The boy was fidgeting, the look on his face was nervous, which to Ollivander, probably confirmed he was guilty, and now Harry was unsure of what would happen to him.
"I have 53 galleons left," said Harry.
Surprisingly, Ollivander walked over to Harry, handing him back his Aspen wand, though he didn't seem pleased about it in the slightest.
"I will not be bribed," said Ollivander. "You may go, Mr Evans."
What? Harry felt around himself, trying to detect any sort of magic. Ollivander kept staring. Harry refused to believe for even a second that Ollivander would just let him go like this.
"I said you can go now."
Harry turned around to see a line of angry, waiting customers at the door to his shop. He couldn't help the nervous laugh that escaped his throat then after.
"You understand," said Ollivander. "Bad for business."
The slow, hesitant walk Harry made out of the wand shop made the line even more impatient, apparently, especially as he tried to anticipate any spell Ollivander would try.
Harry was correct in assuming that Ollivander would not let him go so easily.
"Sequor," the whisper was quiet from Ollivander, to where Harry wouldn't have heard had he not been on guard. He attempted to dodge out of the way, but the man had cast while he was walking out the door, and it hit him silently.
A tracking charm.
And Harry didn't know the counter.
He took notice of the long line of children and families at the front of Ollivander's shop, either not looking at him, or glaring at him. He found some comfort, though; because he saw that he wasn't the only teenager at the place.
Right at the end of the line stood a girl who looked about his age; she was tall, with dark and wavy hair that ran to the middle of her back, her eyes burning into his shoulders as he walked. He met her eyes for a moment; blue and stormy, painted onto a sharp, pretty face. A familiar one. Too familiar.
In hindsight, Harry was sure it took him far too long, but he got there eventually.
Because then he knew, that wasn't just anyone.
He told himself he was being cunning, but motivated out of spite and suspicion more than anything else, he shot a listening-in charm the girl's way. He was sure no one noticed but her; for when she effortlessly batted away the spell with a wand that Harry had recognized and seen only a few times in his life, he knew.
The girl shot him a sardonic, deadly smile that let Harry know things were far from over. Harry smiled back, all teeth.
They had only just begun.
A/N: Chapters should generally get longer from here on out. Reviews, thoughts and the like are all greatly appreciated (and make for great writing fuel)! Thanks for reading, everyone!
What he should be doing is using his future knowledge on potions… he can literally make Wolfsbane and make a killing off it.
A great concept – for another story. Harry is advanced for his age, but not enough to know high-level potions like Wolfsbane. Plus, it's not really in the spirit of this story for Harry to be given an overpowered money maker like a stupid useful potion he can monopolize.
… Why hasn't he tried reaching out to his family?
Remember, Harry chose his identity in haste. That, and he doesn't really have too many means to contact them anyway. They will be a part of this story though!
This is all quite intriguing… assuming these characters will have a larger role to play going forward.
Thank you! And they most certainly will.
This is boring and slow
Some of the messages I've gotten on Discord have actually implied the opposite; that the story is too fast and more filler is needed, so it's interesting to hear the exact reverse.
Again, thanks for reading, all!