The Dursleys were a very normal family and they were proud of that.
Harry Potter was anything but normal. Everything about Harry stood out and was quite far from normal—from his crazy hair to his weird-colored eyes, and tendency to talk to the air. Harry was definitely not ordinary and the Dursleys hated anything not ordinary.
The Dursleys hated Harry, but that is okay. Harry didn't mind the Dursleys' unnatural loathing. Harry knew he was weird, that he was different. But there were plenty of people who had no problems with Harry being weird.
It wasn't Harry's fault that those people happened to be ghosts that only he could see.
Harry had always been able to see ghosts for as long as he could remember. Unlike Dudley's stupid horror movies, these ghosts weren't scary or malicious in any way, Harry had never been scared of what he could see and hear. His constant companions were actually his parents, all three of them. Kind words and soft reassurances always fell from their ghostly lips to comfort Harry after a particularly bad day with his Aunt and Uncle. As far as Harry was concerned, dead people were better than the living anyway. They were the only ones who understood him, cared for him, loved him, and Harry was grateful for their company.
When Harry was 10 years old both he and his parents had had enough.
It was Dudley's birthday and Harry had to make a breakfast feast for his rotund cousin as his Aunt and Uncle prepared for the day's festivities. Harry was exhausted though. He had stayed up late the night before talking with his Papa about the history of the House of Black, a family Harry apparently belonged to. By the time his Mama came along and ordered his Papa to let him sleep it was very late and the time between closing his eyes to rest and being jerked out of his cupboard in the morning was sadly brief.
So bleary-eyed Harry tried his best to fight his exhaustion to make breakfast.
But then the bacon burned before Harry could take it out of the pan and the smell of burnt fat and meat filled the kitchen and alerted Aunt Petunia to his blunder.
"BOY!" she shrieked and Harry winced, knowing what was coming next. "LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE!"
She stormed into the kitchen, her face twisted in anger. "You useless boy!" Aunt Petunia screeched, her bony fingers clenching into fists. "You've ruined everything!"
Harry flinched at her words, tensing up to brace himself for the hit that he was sure was coming, but instead, he felt Aunt Petunia grab him and jerk him away from the stove. The sudden movement made him drop the pan he had been holding and the hot grease from inside the pan splashed onto his skin, causing him to cry out in pain.
Harry's vision blurred from the tears that streamed down his face. He couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't take the constant abuse, the endless chores, the feeling of being unwanted and unloved. And then, as if in answer to his unspoken plea, his Mama's ghost appeared before him.
"My sweet boy, I am so sorry." her voice was soft and sad. He hated to see his Mama so sad. His Daddy's ghost then appeared next to Mama, looking just as upset.
"It is time my little deer. We cannot see you hurt any longer. I need you to close your eyes, dig up all of your magic, and wish as hard as you can to go somewhere safe and far away from your Aunt and Uncle. We will find a way to care for you but you can't stay here any longer." His Daddy's smooth voice patiently instructed him as Petunia dragged Harry from the kitchen and toward his cupboard.
He closed his eyes, feeling his magic buzzing within him. He focused on the feeling and imagined himself far away from the Dursleys, in a place where he could be himself and not be punished for it. He kept imagining this place and pushing all his magic towards that thought. Suddenly, he felt a burst of energy and warmth surround him. It felt like he was being hugged tightly by someone. When he opened his eyes, Harry found himself in a small, cozy bedroom with a comfortable bed, a desk, and a window that let in a warm breeze. He felt confused and disoriented, but also happy and relieved. He knew he was not at the Dursleys any more. He was safe.
Much to the relief of his parents, Harry had managed to apparate himself to the Potter Estate. The wards here were stronger than ever and no one would be able to find Harry unless he wanted them to. Luck seemed to be with them as there was still a family of house elves in residence who were keeping up the care of the manor and now their young master.
Here they can keep Harry safe while teaching him everything he needs to know about the Wizarding World, Harry's heritage, and the manipulations of Albus Dumbledore. Years ago they had all agreed that Harry would not be attending Hogwarts if they could help it. Harry being hidden behind the wards of Potter Manor would be enough to keep Dumbledore out until Harry was older and prepared to face the old man.
No one stopped to consider that leaving Harry alone with only ghosts and house elves for socialization might have a negative effect on the boy.
As time passed, Harry grew lonelier and more isolated from the world outside of the manor. The ghosts of his parents were always there for him, but they couldn't offer the same kind of companionship that living beings could. And the house elves, while kind and helpful, were still servants and couldn't fulfill the role of a friend.
Harry would spend his days wandering the halls of the manor, reading books from the library and learning more about his magical abilities. He became adept at wandless magic and potion-making, thanks to the extensive library and ingredients he had at his disposal. He also developed a keen sense of observation and deduction, as he had to rely on his own intelligence to figure out what was happening in the outside world. He was a quick and eager learner and soon had a vast knowledge of magical theory, but he lacked practical experience. He longed for someone to practice spells with or to talk to about the world beyond the manor's walls.
When Harry turned 14 he decides to leave the manor wards against the adamant advice of his parents so he could visit Diagon Alley for the first time.
Harry had heard so many stories of the magical shopping district from his parents over the years. He just had to see it for himself. As a birthday gift to himself, Harry also wanted to walk amongst the living again, even if it was just for a short time. Harry knew he was making his parents worry, but as he always reminded them, Harry couldn't spend the rest of his life hiding away in the manor.
Using the floo for the first time was a wild ride that Harry loved even if he almost fell on his face as the fire spit him out into the Leaky Cauldron. Harry's grin couldn't get any wider as he took in the sights and smells of the pub filled to the brim with living people. He made his way to the back of the pub where the entrance to Diagon Alley lay hidden.
Harry felt confident that he wouldn't be identified since the descriptions of him in all of the books he had read hadn't been accurate; they didn't even get his parents right. People seemed to expect a James Potter lookalike with Lily Evans' green eyes. His parents had found that amusing, but his Papa had sulked at people thinking James and Lily were married instead of James and Regulus.
As he stepped through the brick wall, he felt a thrill of excitement run through him. This was it. This was the world his parents had belonged to, the world he was meant to be a part of. The bustling crowds and colorful storefronts filled him with a sense of excitement he had never felt before. He walked around, taking in all the sights and sounds around him.
He made his way to Gringotts Bank to withdraw some money and to check on his family's vault. The goblins at the bank were surprised to see him, as they had not seen a Potter in years. Harry explained his situation and they were more than happy to assist him.
With a pouch of gold in hand, Harry made his way to the shops, eager to explore everything Diagon Alley had to offer. He bought new robes, everyday casual clothes, books, supplies for his studies, and even some strange chocolate frog ice cream that his Dad had urged him to try. But what Harry really wanted was to make some friends, even if it was dangerous.
After ice cream, Harry wanted to get a wand. He had been using old wands from his ancestors that could be found all over Potter Manor, but Harry wanted the connection of a wand just for him. As good as he was at wandless magic, having a wand would be better in the long run. Even his parents agreed that if he was going to risk being outside the wards he should get a wand. Although they disagreed on where he should get one from.
His Mom had said Ollivanders as that was where all the Hogwarts students got their wands. His Papa had sneered at his Mom when he reminded her that all Ollivander wands came with the trace on them already and that the stock of wands was extremely limited. His Dad had suggested a shop over in France that had a wider selection of wands to pick from, but that made his Papa pinch his Dad. "How the hell do you expect our son to get over to France huh?"
Finally, his Papa directed Harry into Knockturn Alley to head to a wand store near the other end of the Alleyway that made custom wands, had no trace, and didn't ask any questions. As Harry walked down the dark and dingy alleyway, he felt a sense of trepidation building in his chest. He knew that Knockturn Alley was known for its shady characters and unsavory activities. But he was determined to get his wand from this particular store, no matter the risk.
The wand store was called Nocturne Wands and it was tucked away in a corner of the alleyway, almost hidden from view. As Harry pushed open the creaky door, a bell tinkled overhead, announcing his presence. The shop was dimly lit, with shelves upon shelves of curious-looking objects lining the walls. A portly man with a bald head and a bushy mustache looked up from behind the counter and greeted Harry with a toothy grin.
"Ah, a customer! What can I do for you?" The man asked, his eyes gleaming with interest.
"I-I'm looking for a wand," Harry stuttered, feeling nervous under the man's intense gaze.
"A wand, eh? Well, you've come to the right place. Here at Nocturne Wands, we specialize in custom-made wands for the discerning witch or wizard. What kind of wand are you looking for? Oak? Ash? Maybe something a little rarer?"
Harry took a deep breath to steady himself before replying. "I don't have a particular type in mind, sir. I just want one that feels right."
The man chuckled, his mustache jiggling with the motion. "Ah, a true believer in wand lore. I like that. Let's see what we have for you."
He led Harry over to a long counter where several boxes of what looked to be various kinds of wood. "Go ahead, touch, smell, hell lick them if you need to. You'll know which wood is the right one."
Harry dragged up his courage and started to pick up and quickly discard various pieces of wood. As he neared the end of the selection Harry had begun to worry he wouldn't find a wood that was suited to him, but finally, a very small piece of wood, much smaller than any of the others on display, made Harry's magic react.
"Silver Lime Wood, intriguing and rare indeed." The man said with a curious tone. Before Harry could ask what was intriguing the man was shuffling further down the counter to pull out more boxes, this time filled with what Harry assumed to be wand cores.
"Same thing, but I do recommend not licking some of these." The man chuckled and sat back to watch Harry peruse the selection of animal parts.
Now that Harry knew what feeling to look for finding a core went very quickly. He picked up a clear vial of what looked to be black hair.
"Thestral tail hair, tricky to get ahold of but worth the power it brings to those deserving. Give me an hour and I'll have your wand ready kid." The man gained a kind of manic energy as he seemed quite eager to craft Harry's wand.
Harry didn't want to walk through Knockturn Alley twice so with the help of his parents he found a fairly decent-looking cafe to hunker down in while he waited for his wand to be ready. His parents started to discuss the properties of Harry's wand while Harry sipped a cup of hot English Breakfast Tea with a dash of sugar and plenty of milk.
"Silver Lime used to be a very popular wood back in the day since it makes such attractive wands," James commented offhand.
Regulus snorted, "Yeah until they almost made the Silver Lime go extinct trying to keep up with the demand. Most wand makers just dye more common woods to give the Silver Lime look since it is easier. You need about a hundred permits to harvest the smallest amount of the wood now. Your wand is probably going to be smaller than most Harry."
"It's a myth that short wands are for those lacking character-wise. They are however really good for control and precision." Lily had to input.
"But they lack power," James grumbled, thinking his son deserved better.
"Harry has plenty of power, my love, he doesn't need a powerful wand to boost his core." Regulus soothed before looking over to Harry, " Although Harry you probably shouldn't advertise what your wand is made of since the combination of Silver Lime and Thestral Hair practically screams that you are a Death Seer."
"Death Seers are thought to be extinct I doubt that will be where people jump to first." Lily scoffed.
"Silver Lime is made for seers, it was a common wood, especially with the Black family seers. And nearly every necromancer ever has had thestral hairs in their wand. The Deathstick itself supposedly has a thestral hair core." Regulus argued.
"Okay you two, break it up." James chuckled. "Sharing your wand's properties is still an incredibly intimate thing. If anyone asks you Harry what your wand is made of and you aren't related by blood or fucking them on a regular basis then tell them to fuck off."
"James!"
"Jamie!"
Both Regulus and Lily spluttered making Harry laugh softly, trying not to draw attention to himself since it would look like he was laughing at thin air.
It was nice being surrounded by living people for once but Harry still loved his family dearly.