Ace swallowed uncomfortably, not liking the look McGonagall was giving him. He took a deep breath. "Honestly, I'd like a few answers myself," he said almost to himself. "When I died, my spirit somehow merged with my Devil Fruit. That's not normal for us by any means. Normally, when a Devil Fruit user dies, their fruit reforms and I assume the spirit moves on."

"But that didn't happen with you," said McGonagall.

Ace shook his head. "I have no idea what happened. When I died, I found myself floating above the place of my death. I saw my brother—" Ace swallowed, a torrent of emotion surging through him. He remembered seeing Luffy holding his body, seeing that heartbroken expression that had absolutely no place on his innocent brother's face. He'd hated seeing Luffy broken and defeated. It was so alien, so not who Luffy was. The way his eyes had just...shattered. Ace shivered, a thrill of guilt racing through him. He was sure that if he could dream now, those eyes would be plaguing his nightmares.

"After the battle was over, something pulled me. It was like I was moving a million miles an hour. I had no control over my spirit. I remember a whirl of colors and sensations. I found myself in what appeared to be a plane of fire. Somehow, I knew that it was the inside of the Flame-Flame Fruit.

"I waited. It felt like I was waiting for an eternity. But I knew that eventually, the fruit would be eaten. I knew the name of the person who would eat it. I knew that I would wind up with Harry, somehow. It felt almost like destiny.

"When he ate the fruit, I found myself standing in the Dursley's living room. My fruit just happened to appear when Harry was home alone, and starving to boot. Our souls merged, I think. We can feel each other's emotions, and project our thoughts towards each other. And, if Harry allows me, I can take control. Let me assure you that I only have control for as long as Harry allows me to. If he withdraws his consent, we will immediately switch places." Ace paused, waiting for McGonagall to speak.

McGonagall looked thoughtful. "What you're describing doesn't sound like a normal possession," she said after a long, uncomfortable silence. "If you're being honest, it seems as though you and Mr. Potter are both the victims of circumstance."

"Do you have ways to magically ensure that we're not lying?" asked Ace.

McGonagall nodded. "We have truth potions, Veritaserum being the strongest—"

"I'll take it," said Ace immediately.

McGonagall sighed. "Very well. Once the school year starts, come to my office. I will only ask questions related to you and your relationship with Harry."

"You don't want to do it immediately?" Ace asked. "If you're so worried about Harry's safety, then why wait?"

"Because I believe you," said McGonagall tiredly. "There aren't any inconsistencies between your story and Healer Espinoza's, and he isn't the sort to lie. He's terrible at it, honestly," McGonagall seemed amused, though at what Ace had no clue.

Ace frowned. "Then why bother with the truth potion at all?"

"A precautionary measure. It'll help prove to Dumbledore that you're not a threat to Mr. Potter or the other students."

Of course, he's not! Harry said indignantly.

They don't know that, said Ace, attempting to calm Harry down. "That's fair enough," he said out loud. "Harry and I are going to switch again. You might want to stand back."

McGonagall obliged. Flames swallowed Ace, covering him entirely, roaring like a bonfire. Harry emerged from them, blinking owlishly. "Sorry about that, Professor," he said, feeling embarrassed.

McGonagall waved her hand. "Don't worry about it. I assume that was your first time switching?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, it was."

"Then there's nothing to apologize for," said McGonagall, her eyes warm. "I didn't get hurt, after all."

I scared you though, Harry didn't say it out loud, but his fists clenched almost unconsciously.

She doesn't think any less of you for it, said Ace.

"Our next stop is a place called Diagon Alley," said McGonagall after a moment had passed. "We're going to pass through a pub called the Leaky Cauldron to get there. Hopefully, we won't attract too much attention, but there is a good chance that won't be the case, due to your being famous."

Harry nodded, feeling uncomfortable at the thought.

"I won't shout your name or other such nonsense," said McGonagall, "But there's only so much I can do."

"What'll happen to me after we're done with everything?" Harry asked.

"I will have to consult the Ministry of Magic—They're our government," McGonagall added when she saw Harry's confused look, "I imagine you'll go to a wizarding family. Dumbledore and I will help ensure that the family chosen has your best interests at heart."

"Wasn't Dumbledore the one who placed me with the Dursleys?" Harry asked cautiously.

The Professor's lips thinned. "He is not infallible, but he is a good person overall," she said. Harry got the distinct impression that she wasn't happy with the man. Her fists were curled into fists. Her teeth were clenched, and her tone clipped. She took a deep breath, and her posture slowly relaxed. "Let's go to the Leaky Cauldron. It's getting late, and I want to get your supplies before dark falls. I'll get you a room in the Leaky Cauldron after we're done shopping, and I'll come to get you tomorrow. Hopefully, we'll have a more permanent solution by the end of the week," McGonagall frowned, a thoughtful look in her eyes.

Harry paused. "Where is the Leaky Cauldron?"

McGonagall smiled. "Charring Cross Road," she said.

Harry groaned. "But that's on the other side of London! It'll take hours to get there!"

"We'll take a bus, then," said McGonagall.

Harry didn't like the glint in her eyes. "Bus?" he asked carefully.

McGonagall pulled out her fancy stick—her wand, as she'd called it earlier—and pointed it to the street in front of them. There was a loud BANG, and a large, purple, triple-decker bus seemed to materialize on the street, its tires screeching on the pavement. A conductor in a bright purple uniform stepped out of the bus.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus—"

"We'd like to go the Leaky Cauldron, Mr. Shunpike," McGonagall said, cutting the man off.

Shunpike sighed. "You heard the lady, Ern. 'Choo waitin' for, then? Come on, we 'haven't got all day now, do we? It's seven Sickles for the trip, but—"

"I don't want your amenities," said McGonagall, reaching into her pocket. She strode onto the bus, Harry not far behind. "This is wizarding money," she told Harry, showing him the silver coins. "There are twenty-nine Knuts in a Sickle and seventeen Sickles in a Galleon. These are Sickles. Knuts are bronze and Galleons are gold. A Galleon is worth about five pounds sterling."

"He a Muggleborn?" asked Shunpike, grinning as McGonagall handed him the coins.

"That's none of your concern," said McGonagall sharply.

Shunpike took a closer look at him. "Hey, I reckon I've seen 'im somewhere before," he said, frowning. "But—"

"My student isn't something for you to gawk at!" said McGonagall, her voice dangerously low.

Shunpike swallowed. "'Course not," he mumbled. He turned to the bus driver. "Take it away, Ern!"

Harry wished that he'd grabbed a hold of something. The bus lurched forward, and Harry found himself rather attached to a window. He groaned, and just as he was regaining his balance, the bus lurched again and he got a little too familiar with the floor. McGonagall was pale, an apologetic expression on her face.

When the bus finally stopped, McGonagall escorted him off the bus. "I'm sorry," she said as soon as the bus had left. "I meant to have you sit before the bus left."

Harry rubbed his temple, groaning softly. "It's alright, Professor," he said. "I've just got a headache."

McGonagall waved her wand at him, its tip glowing. She frowned. "You managed to avoid a concussion, at least," she muttered, tucking it back into her robes.

This magic is really something, said Ace in wonder.

That's what amazes you? Harry asked, amused.

Not that specifically, said Ace, It's just—magic seems so versatile. That hospital, the bus from hell... I can't wait to learn it.

"This is it," said McGonagall. "Be careful, Mr. Potter."

Harry nodded. The pub was rather small, fitting easily between two shops. He noticed that the people passing didn't seem to see it, their eyes sliding over it like it wasn't even there. McGonagall led him inside. The inside was dark shabby, and sparsely populated. A few old ladies were chatting over glasses of sherry and an old man whom Harry thought could pass for a walnut. The old man seemed to be the bartender.

Ace snickered. Your mind is awesome.

The bartender looked up as they approached. He grinned, "What can I do for you today, Professor?"

"I'm just passing through, I'm afraid. I'm escorting this student to Diagon Alley."

The bartender nodded. "Right then. I'll let you be."

"Thank you, Tom," said McGonagall. She led Harry out the back of the pub. She pulled out her wand and looked at Harry. "The way you get into Diagon Alley is by tapping on a certain brick three times with your wand. The brick is three up from this trash can—which is enchanted to stay in place—and two to the left."

McGonagall gestured to the aforementioned trash can and pulled out her wand. She counted the bricks by tapping them with her wand, slowly enough that Harry could follow her. She paused on the last brick and tapped it three times. The brick quivered, and a small hole opened in the middle. It grew until the entire wall was gone. Harry gaped at the street in front of them.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley," said McGonagall, smiling at him.

They stepped over the threshold, and the wall closed behind them. Harry wasn't sure where to look. Everywhere Harry turned his head, there was something bright and colorful to look at. Harry could feel the magic of the street. It seemed to dance in merriment over Harry's skin, giving him goosebumps. A stack of cauldrons stood in front of the nearest store, glistening in the sun.

"Do you have your letter?" asked McGonagall.

Harry nodded, pulling it out. "Yes, Professor," he said.

"You'll find a list of school supplies in the envelope," she said. "But first, we're going stop by the bank. See that white building?"

Harry glanced at where she was pointing. The snowy white building towered over all the shops. "Is that it?"

"Indeed. That is Gringotts. Goblins own and operate it. Do try your best not to stare, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall.

Harry nodded. As they walked, Harry found himself wishing he could see everything at once. A plump woman outside an Apothecary glanced up as they passed an Apothecary, muttering about overpriced dragon liver. Her scowl vanished when she saw Professor McGonagall, and she beamed, waving them down.

"Minerva! I wasn't expecting to see you here," she said when they stopped.

McGonagall smiled. "It's good to see you, Molly. Harry, This is Molly Weasley. Molly, This is Harry Potter."

Molly beamed at them. "Shopping for Hogwarts supplies, then? It's good to meet you, Harry! My son Ron's around your age, you know. I do hope that you can be friends."

McGonagall chuckled. "I daresay they will both be Sorted into Gryffindor, at least."

"Gryffindor?" Harry asked. "What does that mean?"

"May I?" asked Molly. McGonagall nodded. "There are four Houses at Hogwarts, Harry. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. They're named after the witches and wizards who founded Hogwarts. Your father and mother were both in Gryffindor, you know!"

Harry swallowed. "Did you know them?"

Molly blinked rapidly, and Harry could have sworn he saw her eyes glistening. "Not as students, no. I'm much too old for that! I only met them when they joined the fight against You-Know-Who. They were good people. You have your mother's eyes," she sniffled and offered a watery smile. "You probably get that a lot, don't you?"

I like this woman, Ace declared.

"You're the first person who's said that to me," said Harry. He was struggling to form words, his throat choked with emotion. "Thank you."

Molly's eyes widened. She took a few deep breaths. Harry could tell it was taking her a lot of effort to keep herself together. She managed a watery smile. "You're welcome, Harry. Well, I must get going. I did come to Diagon Alley for a reason, after all."

Minerva took a deep breath. "Molly, I have a favor to ask," she said.

"Anything," said Molly, wiping her eyes.

"Mr. Potter's relatives were...not the nicest people," said McGonagall, her eyes hardening. "Needless to say, he doesn't have a place to stay for the summer. Would you and Arthur—"

Molly beamed. "We would love to have him! Assuming he wants to stay with us, of course."

I think you should, said Ace. She seems nice enough, at least.

"I would love to, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry. He felt his cheeks burning.

"Meet us at the Leaky Cauldron in two and a half hours," said McGonagall, "That should give us enough time to finish our shopping."

"I'll be there," said Molly, "Good luck with your shopping!"

They parted ways, McGonagall and Harry continuing their journey to the bank. On their way, Harry paused as he heard a soft hooting. Harry turned his head toward the sound, and he found that it came from a shop called Eeylops Owl Emporium. There were a wide variety of owls, but one, in particular, caught his eye. It was a beautiful snowy owl. Its eyes met Harry's, and it hooted loudly.

"May I get that owl, Professor?" asked Harry.

McGonagall nodded. "We can speak to the manager and see if he'll hold onto it until we come back from Gringotts."

He agreed to do so. They reached the towering bank. Flanking its bronze doors—each wearing a scarlet and gold uniform—was a pair of what Harry assumed were goblins They were about a head shorter than Harry, their faces adorned with pointed beards, their fingers long and skinny. They bowed as Harry and McGonagall walked inside. There was a second pair of doors, these silver with a warning engraved on them.

"The goblins do have a flare for the dramatic," said McGonagall once Harry had read it, "But their point still stands. You'd do well to keep this warning in mind, Mr. Potter."

Another pair of goblins bowed as they walked through the silver doors. Goblins lined the edge of the corridor, sitting on high stools, doing ledgers and other paperwork on a long counter that spanned the length of the room. There were a great number of doors leading off the hall, which both people and goblins were walking through. McGonagall and Harry made for the counter.

"Good afternoon," said McGonagall to a free goblin, "We've come to make a withdrawal from Mr. Harry Potter's safe."

Do you have a safe? Ace asked.

"Do you have the key, ma'am?"

McGonagall produced a tiny, golden key. "Right here."

The goblin leaned forward, examining the key. He nodded. "That seems to be in order. I will have someone take you down to the vault. Griphook!"

They followed the goblin toward one of the doors leading off the hall. Griphook opened it and held it open for them. The passageway on the other side was made of stone, torches running along either side of the narrow corridor. Griphook whistled, the sound reminding Harry of a wind passing through a cave. A small cart hurdled on the tracks towards them. When it stopped, the goblin beckoned for them to climb on.

The cart was fast. The way it bobbed and weaved on the steel track reminded Harry of those roller coasters his cousin despised, which Harry had always wanted to try. Ace was whooping loudly, distracting Harry from his attempt to keep track of the forks the cart made. When the cart finally stopped, Griphook got out first.

"Vault six-hundred and eighty-seven," he said, grabbing a nearby lamp. Griphook held out his hand to McGonagall, who gave him the key. He walked up to the vault door and stuck in an intricately detailed keyhole. The vault's hinges screamed as it opened. Harry peered inside, and his jaw dropped.

"Thi-this is mine?" Harry's heart was in his throat. There was no way. There were piles of gold stacked from the floor to the ceiling, glimmering in the soft light of Griphook's lamp.

McGonagall nodded. "This is your trust vault. You're not as wealthy as the oldest wizarding families, but the Potters were fairly well off. Not to mention, Lily was very good at managing money."

Harry felt like a gaping fish with the way his mouth was opening and closing. He felt an arm on his shoulder, and he glanced up at Ace standing beside him, grinning.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked, "This is all yours. Grab some already!"

Ace's image vanished. Harry shook himself out of his stupor and walked forward. He paused. "I don't have anything to hold my money," he said. My money. Oh, those words felt weird.

Griphook produced a leather pouch and handed it to Harry, who took large handfuls and filled it. He stashed the pouch out of sight. He didn't want to make himself a target, after all. They rode the cart back to Gringotts' reception area and left the bank.

McGonagall led him to Eeylop's Owl Emporium, where Harry bought the snowy owl that had captured his attention.

You have good taste, said Ace.

McGonagall led him to other shops, and Harry found himself carting his owl, a bunch of books—many of which were not on the required list—cauldrons, and other magical items. Their final stop was at Ollivander's Wand Shop.

The outside of the shop was shabby. A wand was displayed in the front window, the inside of which was covered in dust. Harry opened the door, and a bell rang. He felt shivers travel up his spine. The magic in this shop was potent, though how he knew Harry wasn't sure.

An old man emerged from one of the rows of wands. "Ah, I wondered when I'd be seeing you, Mr. Potter," he said.

Harry didn't ask how the man had known his name. It was likely a consequence of his fame, after all. "I'd like a wand, please," he said.

Ollivander smiled. "You have your mother's eyes, you know. Her wand was ten-and-a-quarter inches, good for charm work. You look much like James, Mr. Potter. His wand was made of mahogany. Eleven inches, excellent for transfiguration."

McGonagall cleared her throat. "Do you mind?"

Ollivander beamed. "Of course, Minerva! Nine and a half inches, made of fir, the core of a dragon heartstring. Also excellent for transfiguration. Hold out your wand arm, Mr. Potter."

"My—"

"The hand you write with," said McGonagall, answering his unspoken question.

Harry held out his right hand, and a tape measure started measuring pretty much everywhere around him. Ollivander wasn't holding it.

Ollivander proceeded to thrust a myriad of wands in Harry's hand, yanking them away and muttering to himself. As the pile of wands grew, Harry's spirits plummeted. Maybe there's been a mistake.

Ollivander paused and glanced in the corner of the shop. "I wonder..." he said, his silver eyes narrowed in thought.

He went to the back of the shop and came back with a different wand. "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches. Quite an unusual combination, I might add."

Harry took the wand, and it instantly grew warm in his grasp. A shower of red and gold sparks erupted from the tip. Ollivander beamed. "Oh, that's wonderful! Except...curious...curious," his voice faded, and he glanced at the wand.

"Sorry, but what's curious?" Harry asked.

"I remember every single wand I've sold, Mr. Potter. What's curious is that the phoenix whose feather the core in your wand gave another. One other. And the other, why its owner gave you that scar."

The gravitas of Ollivander's statement hit Harry like a freight train. "You mean...?"

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things with that wand, Mr. Potter. Terrible, true. But great. You have a lot of potential. I just hope you don't fall the same path."

McGonagall made a strangled noise but didn't say anything. Harry paid for his wand and left the shop, his body still shaking.

"Draco! Are you going to keep playing with your food?" Lucius Malfoy snapped at his son. "You're a Pureblood, so act like one!"

Draco Malfoy was stirring his bowl of soup, his appetite non-existent. He couldn't stop thinking about the events of the previous week.

"Dear, please don't be so harsh with him. He's going to Hogwarts for the first time in a few weeks. He's probably just stressed," said Narcissa Malfoy gently.

"He will be representing the Malfoy family, Narcissa," said Lucius, his fists clenched and eyes narrowed. "If this disappointment can't even eat properly..."

Draco rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak.

Slap!

Draco found himself on the ground, clutching his bleeding cheek. The sound of his father's slap reverberated in his ears. He glared at his father.

"Do not roll your eyes at me, Draco," said Lucius, his eyes blazing. "You will eat, then you will go to your room. You are a disgrace to our family name."

Draco barely refrained from rolling his eyes a second time. He forced himself to finish his food and retreated to his room.

Where's your backbone, brat?

Draco froze and clenched his fists. "I've decided that you're not real," he said, clenching his teeth.

Whether or not I'm real is irrelevant. I'm a part of you, Draco Lucius Malfoy. An echo of who you once were.

"Go away," he said, clutching his head. He just wanted to be left alone! Why was this happening to him?

I can't do that until you accept your past, brat.

"Accept that I was someone else? A Muggle pirate?"

You repeat your father's dogma but you don't believe it. Not yet, at least. Who are you, Draco?

"Not you," said Draco, scowling.

Describe Wano for me.

"How can I do that? I've never even—"

Just try.

"I've never..." Draco's eyes widened as an image formed in his mind. "The shore is beautiful," he said, his eyes glazing over. "Trees cover every inch of the land in sight, a large mountain towering over everything. There's a man who's trying to join my...my crew. But I'm not letting him. I think he's too willful, someone who chafes at orders."

That would be Oden, Draco. He was a true friend of ours. Of yours.

"But that's impossible," said Draco, "I can't—I..."

Gurarara. You claim you hate me, but you are me. My voice is your subconscious. It'll remain until you embrace your destiny.

A/N: The scene with Draco was inspired by one in RWBY season 4, with Oscar and Ozpin. Anyway, the thing that's happening with Draco is not the same as what Harry is going through with Ace. That'll be expounded on in later chapters.