AN: Posting a bit later than normal this week, but with the holidays and all, things have been hectic. Speaking of, Merry Christmas to everyone who celebrate it, and Happy Holidays to all the rest!
I do want to address the comment about Dumbledore. I really think that Dumbledore was not completely in the right. He did what he thought was the best, and so I wont just be outright bashing him constantly, but I think one of the reasons he makes some bad decisions is because he is a little big-headed about how important he is. There are so many things I could point to in canon that would help to prove that, but in the end it's all very much based on how actions are interpreted. Another thing to note is that, although this is based on canon, the story will be very non-canon, and the characters interactions with Harry will influence the outcome of the story. So Dumbledore will have just as much ability to learn and grow as all those we have met so far.
If you think it's getting a little too hopeful, it will get even darker than it was before Harry met Helena, I promise that.
Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy.
—
The dining room was about as nice a room as Harry had ever seen in any picture. Apparently the Greengrass family was well off. There were gold statues displayed on either side of the room and ornate candelabras complimented by an incredibly confusing chandelier. Green tapestries hung on the walls and the table was a dark stained oak.
"Come on in and take a seat, Harry." Damond said from the far end of the table while Helena was sitting on the end nearest the door.
There were two girls staring at him in a very unnerving manner seated on either side. Harry decided to stay as close to the door as he could and ended up sitting next to the one who looked a little older, but not by that much. He tried to smile, but felt a little sick at the same time.
"Beside you is Daphne," Damond continued. "She'll be in your year at Hogwarts. Across the way is Astoria, and she still has two years before she will join you two. No need to be nervous about them. They don't bite."
"Much, Daddy. We don't bite much," Daphne said, cracking a fierce grin. She looked like a miniature version of her mother.
"No teasing, Daphne," Helena chided. "I don't want you causing trouble for our guest while he's here."
The girl seemed to ponder the seriousness of her mother's words, thoughts twisting behind her eyes. "You're not trying to marry me off to him, are you? I heard Draco and Pansy are betrothed now. Neither of them can even act normal around each other anymore."
Harry's eyes widened and he paled at the insinuation. He was only ten, almost eleven years old. Marrying anyone, even if it would only be a betrothal, was just unthinkable. He'd barely even made a single friend, and marriage was the furthest thing from his mind. Until now, of course.
He glanced back at Daphne, who was smirking at him, of all the things she could be doing. She was getting a kick out of this! Harry tried to calm down and not show any more of a reaction than he already had. If she was trying to embarrass him, then he would just have to not let it get to him.
"Nothing like that, Daphne," her mother replied. "You can marry who you like. We promise never to do something as archaic as forcing you to marry for prestige. We may be an old family, but traditions come and go. That's one of those things that I was afraid of when I was young, and I'm just glad it worked out for me. I would never put you in that situation. But enough of that talk. Let's eat. Dippy!"
A short house elf with perky ears and squinted eyes popped into the room. "Yes, Mistress?" Its voice croaked in a very unexpected manner.
"Serve breakfast," Helena said.
Dippy disappeared in a wisp of air that kept roaming from one spot on the table to the next, food appearing in front of each of them one at a time. The parents first and then Harry and the two girls.
It was most entertaining to watch magic unfold in front of his very eyes. One day, if he studied hard and did his best, maybe he could be as skilled as the little elf before him. Maybe that was an unrealistic goal, though. Harry didn't know why all the elves were the ones running around like this. It was like their magic was different from that of witches and wizards, otherwise wouldn't more people be doing these things instead?
It didn't matter. Harry wanted to learn what the elves could do, possible or not.
Breakfast itself was a massive plate loaded from end to end in the most delicious looking breakfast he had ever seen. The Dursleys would throw an absolute fit if they knew how well this family was living, and Dudley would be at least twice his size if he could eat like this every day. There was no way Harry was going to finish it. Sausage, eggs, beans, and grilled tomatoes. And the drink was not water, whatever it was. It look wholly unappetizing, but tasted surprisingly sweet. He looked at the cup curiously.
"Pumpkin juice," Daphne said. She clearly didn't have any trouble communicating with people, that much was obvious.
The other girl across the table was another matter. She seemed to be staring at Harry in a very determined way. Every time he looked at her, red rose in her cheeks for a moment before they paled again. Harry couldn't help but notice that she moved a little slower and more deliberate than her older counterpart.
"Don't mind her," Daphne said. "She's just a little star struck."
"Over me?" Harry said, opting for a bite of the sausage. Meat had so far been largely absent from his diet, not entirely of his own choice. He found it full of flavor, spicy and salty. The texture wasn't all that enticing, but the taste made up for it. The tomatoes on the other hands were bursting with juice and a bitterness that he found invigorating.
"Of course," Daphne replied bluntly. "To be fair, not many people have met the Boy-Who-Lived. It's a bit off a puzzle where you've been. Is it true you lived with muggles for nine years?"
Harry frowned at this. He hated not knowing what others thought was so special about him and he hated not knowing what words meant. It was hard enough keeping up with primary school when he was locked in the cupboard all the time, but this was most definitely a word that he never heard before these last few days. A seemingly common word judging by its frequent use, and he had absolutely no idea what it meant.
"Daphne dear," Helena interjected. "What did I say about pestering Harry?"
"Sorry," Daphne huffed in a manner that suggested she was not sorry at all, just upset she couldn't ask what she wanted to.
"It's okay," Harry said. "I'd answer if I knew what a muggle was."
Daphne perked up, holding herself higher. "Muggles are non-magical folk. More animals than people. I don't even understand how anyone can survive living among them."
"Oh," Harry muttered. "I suppose I did then, grow up with muggles that is. They hated magic." Except his cousin, but the Greengrass family didn't need to know that. No one needed to know any more about them.
"That's horrible," Daphne said, pretending to gag. "Muggles just can't understand the proper way to live."
"Can we please stop talking about this?" Astoria said, shocking her sister from her train of thought. It was the first time she spoke, and despite her pallor, she sounded just as lively as her older sister.
"You're absolutely right, Astoria." Damond exhaled as he laid a napkin across his plate. "This is hardly the topic to be discussed over any meal. In any case, I must be off."
"Already?" Helena asked. She was up so fast Harry never saw her push her chair out.
"I'm afraid so," Damond said. "I wish I could floo out of work, but I'm thankful that you were able to. I'm sure Harry will appreciate your help in keeping our daughters in line."
The man laughed and the girls both pouted at the same time in what Harry could feel was a very practised gesture.
"I'm sure they'll behave themselves," Helena said, kissing her husband and eliciting differing reactions from Astoria and Daphne. The younger looked on with a smile and a twinkling gleam in her eyes, while the older stuck out her tongue and pointed her finger into her mouth. "Have a good day."
Damond departed and it left Harry alone with the the girls of the house. He suddenly felt very outnumbered. What if they wanted to dress him up and put makeup on him? That's what all the girls he knew were into, besides Hermione. Harry shuddered. One sane girl did not mean any of the others would be. As long as they didn't turn the conversation back to marriage, he'd survive this the way he survived everything else.
"So Harry," Helena said, picking up the conversation after a brief delay. "Was there anything you had planned on doing today?"
All he had eaten was a couple sausage links, the tomato, and a piece of toast, but he was stuffed. It sure made him tired, and all the thoughts of what he wanted to do were gone. He was supposed to do something, but he couldn't quite remember what it was. Harry shook his head.
"Is that so?" Helena asked with a smile. She seemed proud about something, but Harry had no idea what it was. "I was thinking we ought to go shopping and get you some decent clothes. We might as well do your school shopping while we're at it. Who knows how long it will be until I can get another day off like this."
"I don't have any money," Harry said and felt something tickling at the edge of that very statement. There was something regarding money that he was forgetting, something he had to do. What it was just wouldn't come to mind, so he frowned.
"Not to worry," Helena said. "I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't intend to pay for eveyrthing myself. Let it never be said that the Greengrass family treats their guests poorly. As long as you're here, you do not have to worry about anything. Damond and I will take care of it all. So what do you think? Up for a day on the town?"
Harry was taken aback. Not only by how forward she was being, but also that she wouldn't shy away from being seen in public with someone like him. Very unlike the Dursleys, who did it grudgingly and only after incredible consideration to the alternatives. Like them, Harry tried to think of what other options he had. It was either that or accept that this woman was actually trying to do something nice for him. Like Hermione. He took a breath and thought about her for a moment.
He hated it, but he needed to try and trust someone. Who knows? Maybe this family would be just the thing he needed to get past his fear of being hated his whole life. The daughters sure seemed to be nice enough, if a bit more playful than Harry was used to.
"Sure," he said, but as soon as he began thinking of going shopping, all he could think of was Knockturn Alley and what had happened there. Harry couldn't stop the tears from streaming. He had been cursed just for being a Potter, and forced watch the gruesome death of his best friend.
"What's wrong, Harry?" Helena asked. "We don't have to go today if you don't feel up to it."
Harry shook his head. "No. I'll go with you." He tried to put on a smile, and must have been somewhat convincing by the reaction of the girls.
Helena was a different story. She smiled piteously and said "splendid" in a morose tone. "Girls, why don't you go and get ready. I'd like to have a talk with Harry."
"Yes mother," they said in near unision. Daphne gave him an encouraging smile while Astoria did her best to avert her gaze. Harry couldn't help but notice that they both looked more than adequately dressed for going out.
"Harry," Helena said, voice stern. "I want you to know that I truly wish you to be happy here. If we can achieve that, then we can handle anything that comes our way. To start, it might be prudent to go over the condition in which I found you. Do you know who cursed you in such a manner?"
Harry looked down and away and saw Dippy as they were clearing off the table. They picked up each plate and wisped away. Harry huffed. How could it look so easy and be so difficult to control?
"I don't want to start trouble," Harry said. " I just want to learn how to stop it from ever happening again."
"Very well," she replied. "And might I say that it is an admirable ambition to have. Though I still wish to know, I won't press the issue. I am curious, however, about the snake. Did they use it in a ritual, or was it just an unhappy circumstance?"
"They just pointed their sticks at her and she died. She was my friend," Harry said, trying to suck back his tears. He clenched his teeth in frustration for how juvenile he was being.
"Their wands, you say?" Helena sighed. "How unfortunate for the creature. Did you have her for a long time?"
By this point he gained enough courage to look her in the eyes. She was obviously trying to figure something out, but Harry was tired of all this dancing.
"I only knew her for two days, but she was funny and smart. She wanted to protect me, and I wasn't able to do the same for her."
"Funny?" Helena smirked, fire in her eyes. "You say that as if you spoke with her."
"I did," Harry said. "She was my first friend. The only one who had ever cared enough to stick around. Everyone else always runs away, but she was just happy to talk with me. At least I think she was happy."
Helena knelt down by him the way she had back in the room he had slept in. She reached out and before Harry could push away, she was drawing him in for a tight hug. "You're a proper wizard, Harry. No one can take that away from you. So let's go and get you all set for school. I can even teach you a thing or two when we get back. Good thing about having magical parents. We always keep a spare wand to teach our little ones. Shall we?"
Harry was speechless, which had happened a lot lately. And though he had never felt this way before, he was very thankful for where he was and how nice he was being treated. A very different sensation from his regular state of mind.
With a nod, she took him off down the hall to prepare him for their day. Hopefully it was better than the days before.
—
"How long should this take?" Damond asked. He was now inside the office of a very tiring and mundane building. Nothing at all magical about the place. If it wasn't absolutely pertinent that he do this, he would never come here in the first place.
"Things like this are never simple," the clerk said. "Adopting is a very serious business. Especially when doing so involves taking a child away from someone else. If what you are saying is correct, then we have to send Department for Education a memo and they will have to look into the current conditions the child is living in. If they determine it is unsafe, then action will be taken. If you believe the guardians will be amenable, you can get them to sign a consent form. Otherwise, it will take some time for things to proceed. The standard process takes six months, but this is much different and could take even longer."
"I don't have time for this," Damond muttered. He looked around and noticed no one was really looking in his direction. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the clerk discreetly. "Imperio." The clerk's eyes glazed over and Damond could feel the euphoria from casting one of the unforgiveable curses. He hated doing it, but there was no chance he could wait six months. Not with everyone in the wizarding world now aware of Harry's financial situation. "File the paperwork as though I obtained consent. Make it seamless, make it look like everything was done the proper way. Back date it if you must, but I want it done and I want two copies of the adoption papers sent to me at the Greengrass estate. Do it quickly and discreetly. I hope to receive them by the end of the night."
"Yes, sir."
The clerk stood and got to work. No one seemed the wiser.
That done, Damond apparated back to his offices. The sign read Greengrass & Associates. It was such a boring business to be in, all paperwork and legal mumbo jumbo, but it was something his family had done for generations. The largest legal firm available for witches and wizards alike. When he walked in, the place was absolutely buzzing. He made a beeline straight for the partner's offices.
He peeked into one of the open doors. "What's the word, Macmillan?"
"They're all here to see if they can get a hold of the Potter's will. Every once in a while there is someone trying to adopt the boy, but I keep telling them that without the boy, adoption is impossible, and would never get approved."
Exactly. You had to have access to the child, and know where he had been living. That and you had to go through the proper channels in both the muggle world and magical world. Or you could just bypass all that by going straight to the source. Once the boy was legally his and Helena's in the muggle world, there was little that could stop them in the magical world.
"Is the will still secure?" Damond asked.
"Of course!" Macmillan said, looking offended by the question. Sometimes the man's Gryffindor pride did get in the way. "It's in with all the family estate wills. Do you think the boy will ever come to collect it?"
"It's only a matter of time," Damond said. If only Macmillan knew what he did. He would have to feign ignorance for the time being. No sense in drawing attention to himself before everything was ready. "All the owls we tried to send came back with the letters unopened. I would wager the boy has never even seen one of our summons'. With him being of age for Hogwarts, he's got to show his face at some point. We can send it there if we fail to get him in here before that point."
"What do you imagine is in there?" Macmillan asked.
"Your guess is as good as mine," Damond said. "We can only hope it's a simple inheritance clause with a stipend set aside to automatically pay for the vault to transfer to Harry. It would make all these inquiries worthless, but they're paying us for our time until we know for sure. Looks like we'll be working over time until we get some answers."
"I hear that," Macmillan said. "Best tell Oscar that I won't be home for dinner."
"Not tonight," Damond said. "We'll work our regular hours tonight. I think the spotting of our nation's hero is a cause for celebration. Go home and spend some time with your husband. I think I might just take the family out for dinner. Maybe we'll get lucky and run into the boy."
Both men laughed and Damond absconded to his office. He had a summons to write. This one he was not going to send yet. He was just going to get everything ready. If this was done poorly, the boy would lose access to his money, and so would Damond. He only hoped that James Potter had been as thoughtless as he had always been in school.
Lord Potter sure had reason to be distracted in his final days, that much was certain.
—
Albus just got out of an emergency wizengamot session. There was no quorum, so little was done besides mere discussion and setting an agenda for the next scheduled meeting. The topic for today was none other than Harry himself. Lucius of course was heading the faction that wanted to place the boy in a wizarding family. There was no question in anyone's mind that the blonde politician thought the most beneficial place for the Boy-Who-Lived was in his own care. Albus would not let that happen.
This mess had caused a lot of problems, but most of all was that everyone was now deluded into thinking Harry had been in an unsafe environment. It was as safe as anywhere else.
With someone like Lucius, there were too many unknowns. Besides, it was legally where Harry was supposed to go. If any of them had any sense, they would just leave it be. A little boy should not be raised by a family that showed any loyalty towards Voldemort. There were so many others to choose without any manner of bias. Possibly the most important of all was that no child should be bombarded with their own celebrity status before they even knew what it meant to be famous.
That was just one thing of so many things he still had to do. Now he had to finish preparations for school, he had to meet Flamel to discuss the protections of the philosopher stone, he still had to find Harry, and now the ICW wanted to meet regarding the unusual disturbances in Albania.
He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Anyone with half a mind in their brain would have seen the signs coming out of southeast Europe. The whole place just reeked of dangerous magic. Quirinus himself decided to go there on sabbatical, and Albus was far too curious to not check it out himself. There were whole covens dedicated to necromancy. One in particular seemed to coax out a familiar and troubling soul from the space between worlds. It made it feel like something dark and precarious was looming on the horizon.
Albus decided to visit his old friend Nicolas. If Harry chose to run away and live on the streets, that was his own prerogative. Albus had to finish organizing things for the stone.
He dug into one of his many cabinets and found a special portkey, a flawless glass sphere the likes of which could only be achieved through magic. With a quick grasp he spoke the phrase, "mercury under fire makes for a lively drink."
With a tug and a twist that would never not be uncomfortable, he was pulled from one end of Scotland all the way to a quaint neighborhood in Paris. For having such unfettered access to all the gold he wanted, Nicolas and Perenelle could have lived a much grander life. Living over six centuries must have put all the excitement of wealth and grandeur into perspective. Albus was only one sixth of his way to reaching such a milestone and he was already way too tired to imagine doing it all over again.
Without pausing, he walked straight into the ancient man's house. Albus was one of the only people allowed to waltz in without a knock or anything. Very few people had such a privilege. As usual, the old man was back in his laboratory, toiling away at the only work he ever needed to do the rest of his life.
"Good evening old friend," Albus said.
One look at Nicolas and you'd think he would quite literally fall apart. He hopped from one foot to the other as his whole body turned to face Albus. It's a good thing his wards only admitted his close friends, because he was such a vulnerable man otherwise. Luckily he had already convinced Nicolas of that fact, but now he had to get the man to approve the plans for the stone's defences.
"Albus! What a surprise this is." It was a good thing the man was practically immortal, because it took him a while to say anything at all. "What horrible news do you have to bring me today?"
"I hope you take it as good news," Albus said. "I have some rough ideas of what protections we will put in place for your stone."
"Oh right. This again. Always in a rush, aren't you boy?"
"We both know I am way past being the teenager I was when we met."
"Yes, but it's hard not to see a bunch of kids around me when no one else has lived nearly as long as I," Nicolas said.
"I hope to keep it that way if I can, Nicolas. What I told you about the last time we met is the truth. Voldemort may not be entirely dead. I've had my suspicions, but I think his soul was previously trapped in the world beyond, tethered to ours in a manner I am yet unfamiliar with. It's just a matter of time before he returns."
"I promised to humor you, but I still think you worry too much," Flamel said. "The two of us have survived three different wars together. If anything, I think age is making you paranoid. Perhaps you should think of joining me and Perenelle when this is all done."
"Not yet. I wish I could, believe me. I'm afraid I still have too much to do before I leave this world. If I can make it a better place than it was a hundred years ago, I will do so. Knowing what I know, and what I have witnessed in the last year, I can not rightly join you. My biggest fear now is that when I leave, everything I have fought for will collapse and the world will fall into darkness."
"So what if it does," Nicolas shrugged. "This is something I wish you would learn already. Not everything can be controlled, and when you are gone, I promise that nothing you have done in life will be permanent. Eventually, all the laws that we have today will change. In a thousand years, the world will be beyond recognition. Dark or light, what difference does it make?"
Albus frowned. Flamel's closely approaching death had made the alchemist a very pessimistic person. "Is it so much to ask for that the world be a place accepting of new cultures and advancements? Without the light, no one will see what good can come."
Nicolas shook his head, or he tried at the very least. "While two sides of one problem face against each other, neither can be completely and totally without fault. Acceptance begins when the two sides start to bridge the divide. It is something I have never witnessed, and after half a millennium of hoping to see such a thing, I have given up that it will ever happen."
"I see," Albus said. "It is sad to hear that, but I have not yet reached the same conclusion. I'll still hold out hope while I have the patience for it."
"You may look like an old man," Nicolas said, "but you very much have a young heart. So what are these protections you wish to use?"
"A part of each branch of magic, as we have discussed. For the first line, I have asked someone I believe to be highly skilled in the handling of the most dangerous creatures alive. He is bringing a cerberus. I thought it quite fitting. The dog famed to be guarding the pathway to the afterlife, watching over the trap we are setting to end the threat of Voldemort once and for all."
"An admirable first defense. I daresay you do keep the most interesting of friends."
Albus smiled. "As should we all. The second line was designed by an expert of magical and muggle plants alike. I believe the room will be knee deep in in devil's snare."
"Hmm." Nicolas seemed skeptical. "Adequate at best. We both know the weaknesses of such a plant, and from what I remember of Voldemort, he was rather fond of fiendfyre. Perhaps there is more that can be done to stop him."
Now they were getting somewhere. Albus knew it had been a good idea coming here. No one should ever just willingly hand over immortality to someone, least of all a psychotic wizard who enjoyed inflicting pain on others.
"Very well. We will find a way to improve the plans. The third test is a charm test. The key to move forward is charmed to evade its pursuer with more agility than a snitch. If that wasn't enough, it will be one of thousands of keys, all flying around in the air." Nicolas remained silent, so Albus continued. "There is a mountain troll, a rather large one. Difficult enough to overpower on a good day. The last step before the trap is a logic puzzle in which the one trying to move forward must solve a riddle that can lead to death if improperly thought through. The final stage is the trap itself. I have acquired the Mirror of Erised. I am working on the enchantments necessary to hide the stone within the mirror, so that the only way to retrieve it is if you want to find the stone, but have no intention of using it."
Nicolas had closed his eyes by this point. Albus was afraid the man had fallen asleep, or worse, by the time the alchemist opened them again.
"Overall, I think there is room for improvement, but I do commend the final protection. A mirror that only shows what you want most, so with the added layer of intent, it would be rather difficult to get. I imagine you would be one of the only wizards alive to have the capacity to do so. Or perhaps the stone will be trapped in the mirror for the rest of all time."
"That is great praise coming from you," Albus said with a nod of his head. "But it seems I have much work to do in revising what ideas have already been posed. Thank you for your constructive criticism. It is always humbling to come and speak with you, old friend. You truly are one of the best minds our world has ever had."
"You flatter me, Albus. But before this all is to happen, I still have to prepare some elixir. I should get back to my work."
"Of course. I appreciate you humoring my worrying mind."
Nicolas nodded and turned back to his work. Taking that as the dismissal that it was, Albus headed on to his next task. One of the many things he had yet to do to make the world a better place.
The life of Albus Dumbledore was not an easy one. Not that anyone would claim such a thing. Visiting his old friend did perk him up a bit though. Maybe he should visit Grindelwald some time. It would be nice to talk with his former lover every once in awhile.
—
Harry thought doing chores was exhausting, but shopping was a whole other story. Who knew doing something he enjoyed had the same overall outcome. Aside from all the new stuff that he'd been given. It was all a bit curious and every new good thing that happened felt like it would be the last. Clearly he was not dreaming or else he would not feel the heat of the summer sun on his skin, the weight of his bags, or the unwavering stares and whispers all around him.
"Why are they staring?" Harry asked, tugging at Helena's robes.
"You're famous," was her simple reply.
"But they all ignored me yesterday."
"Well, your picture was in the paper. Apparently they were able to develop a picture from one of the people who saw you at the ministry. Now all those who didn't realize it before are keenly aware of what you look like. Probably a good thing you're with me. Would be a lot of people who would love you steal you away. Stay close. Or not, if you'd prefer that. You're welcome to leave at any time."
He thought about what would happen if he left all this goodness behind, where that would leave him. Alone and approaching death in a dark alleyway. Harry looked toward the two girls on her other side. Astoria was holding her mother's hand while Daphne held her sister's. He reached for Helena's hand and took a hold of it. Who cared if he was almost eleven? It's not like he ever got to hold his own mother's hand.
Helena looked down at him and smiled warmly. "I think we should go and get your wands now."
"Mother, I want one too. Why can't I have my own?" Astoria asked almost too quietly to be heard.
"Not until the summer before school, darling. That's how it always is. Gives your magic time to sit right in your body. Wouldn't want a wand picking you before that point. Might just make a wrong connection."
Harry wondered what she meant by that. How does a wand pick you? Logic would suggest it be the other way around. A wand was just some inanimate thing, a stick to point at people. Well, a bit more than a stick, but it was hard to think of it as special. They all looked so plain and normal.
The shop was nowhere near as fancy, or as clean as all the others they had gone to that day. It was dark, cluttered with hundreds of stacked boxes, and most confusing of all was that it appeared to have no one inside.
Helena pointed her wand at a rickety looking chair and all the dust disappeared from it. She sat on top of it, but despite its precarious appearance, it gave no indication that it struggled.
Harry was about to reach for one of the boxes, a dark one with green filigree and a golden name-tag on the front, when an old man with a crazed look came stumbling from the back. A whole stack of boxes cascaded behind him, but he waved his wand at it and everything went back to how it was.
"Welcome," the man said in a soft voice that managed to cover the entire room.
Harry backed away from the funny box and gravitated towards Helena.
"Hello Mr Ollivander," she greeted. "We're here to get wands for Daphne and Harry here. You're the best there is, so we came to you of course."
Ollivander laughed. "I don't know about the best, but I thank you for the compliment. As sweet today as you were the day you got your wand. Ten inches, willow with a unicorn hair core. I hope it is still working well for you."
"It works very well, thank you."
The man nodded and turned his face towards Daphne. "A lot like your mother, by the looks of it. Well come on, step up and we'll get you measured. Might like to try something similar to your mother's wand first."
Ollivander meandered back into the stacks while a fabric tape-measure wrapped its way around Daphne's arm and measured how tall she was and the length of her arm. It had just settled back on the counter when the frazzled man came back with a stack of boxes. He set them down in a jumbled array.
"Right then. Shall we start with a nine and a half inches yew wand with a unicorn hair from the same unicorn as your mother. I have a reasonable suspicion this will make a good fit."
He grabbed one of the boxes he brought and handed the wand from inside it over to Daphne. It was remarkably smooth and shiny. Harry thought it had a nice look to it, but apparently there was something wrong, cause the man snatched it out of her hands.
"Not quite the reaction your mother had," Ollivander tutted. "Maybe we'll get more for a mixture of mother and father. "Ten inches, willow wand with dragon heartstring. Reasonably pliant."
Daphne took the wand and the reaction was quite a bit different from the last. A flower sprouted from the tip and fell to the floor. Ollivander picked it up and placed it in a vase on the counter.
"I suspect that you will be a deft hand at transfiguration, Ms. Greengrass. Very good. Another wand paired with its natural partner. What an amazing feeling it is to see each and every connection made. Let's just get it all wrapped up. I trust your mother knows the rules."
"Of course, Mr. Ollivander. I wouldn't dream of breaking the law." Helena smiled sweetly.
Harry wasn't sure exactly what was meant, but laws were something all adults in his life had ignored up to this point. As long as these ones didn't hurt him, he had nothing to complain about.
Harry almost forgot he was next when the man turned dramatically in his direction. The crazed gaze sent shivers down his back.
"Harry Potter. I thought I'd be seeing you this year," the man mused, traipsing around the counter and peering uncomfortably into Harry's eyes. "I remember your mother and father quite well. Your eyes are the same as hers." Harry was surprised by that revelation, but the man continued faster than he could react. "I heard she was quite the witch. Ten and a quarter, willow wand. Great for charms work, and I imagine she did quite a lot before…"
Olivander's voice trailed off and his eyes glanced up towards the fringe of Harry's hair. He had a scar there that was strange to say the least, in the shape of a lightning bolt. Not the sort of pattern that was done by accident, but he didn't remember how he got it. It never faded either, so he liked his hair just long enough to cover it up. Less questions that way.
"As for your father, his wand was made of mahogany, eleven inches. Much more suited for transfiguration. My standard approach relies on the parentage of each child. I would gravitate towards the mother for a daughter, and the father for a son. You are in a special sort of situation though. No mother or father to raise you, so I could treat this more like I would for a muggleborn."
Helena hissed. "His blood is far purer than that."
"I only mean in terms of approach, Mrs. Greengrass. No slight was meant on his heritage."
Harry watched the exchange with an innocent curiosity. Whatever Ollivander had said hit a nerve with Helena. Now she was looking at him with a venom that reminded Harry very much of his uncle.
"Perhaps we should move along. I will grab a few boxes and be right back. Don't mind the tape measure."
Once more he went to the back of the shop. Harry could hear a clatter of boxes and was sure something had fallen over at some point, but soon enough the tape measure had finished its work and Ollivander was back with a rather large stack of wands.
He grabbed the first box and handed the wand over. "Give this one a wave. Beechwood, nine inches, quite flexible."
Harry looked at the wand and was a little disappointed. It felt weird. To his side, he could see that Helena was still a bit put off from what Ollivander had said. She had a disappointed look on her face, lips curling down. Harry waved the wand and it sent a shockwave bursting forth, smashing the vase that the flower had been put in. Holding the wand delicately between two fingers, Harry set it down slowly.
"Evidently not. Something more suited to defense, perhaps."
The second wand that Harry tried had no reaction at all. This only served to make the wandmaker happier. He opened box after box until he reached the last one in the stack.
"Maybe this one will fare better," he said as he handed it over to Harry, ready to dodge out of the way if anything else rushed out of the wand. "Holly and phoenix feather."
This time the reaction was far more obvious and pleasant. The air around Harry turned warm and rushed from underneath, blowing his robes out to the sides. A yellow ball of light appeared at the end of his wand and rose into the air, cascading into a cacophony of miniature fireworks.
"Ha!" Olivander shouted. "Very curious indeed. That was rather fun, wasn't it?"
"I suppose," Harry said politely, but he didn't really agree. It was more uncomfortable to have so much attention put on him for such a simple thing as a wand. This one just felt right in his hand, and he was relieved that it was over. "What's so curious about it?"
Helena was standing at this point, gathering up the girls, but she remained quiet. Apparently Harry wasn't the only one who wanted to know what was so interesting about his wand.
"I have sold thousands of wands, Mr. Potter. I remember each and every one of them. It is curious that the wand that chose you just so happens to have a phoenix feather from phoenix that only gave me two feathers. The brother wand belonged to the wizard who was responsible for killing your parents, as the stories go."
"Who was he?" Harry asked, blood turning cold.
"I think that is quite enough," Helena said. "We should really get back to the house."
Harry frowned. He wanted to react more, to stomp his feet and demand they tell him what happened. But every time he thought of doing that he was reminded of what such behaviour earned him. A hard smack across the face and to be locked in his cupboard. He curled in on himself.
They paid, and not long after they were all back at the house. Floo was so convenient. Everything that the muggles used to travel took way longer. There was a little discomfort in floo travel, but it was immediate and it saved so much time.
Harry was still put out, but he followed Helena upstairs without a word. Each girl went to their own room and shut the door, but he wasn't entirely sure where he was meant to be.
"I've been thinking," Helena said when they were alone. All the things they had acquired for him were still hanging from his arms, which had lost a lot of their strength through the day. He was ready to take a nap. "It makes no sense for me to leave Leon's room untouched. It's too hard to ignore his absence when I leave everything the way he had it. You should take his room. I think it will help me as much as it will give you a space of your own. One that isn't designed for temporary occupancy, that is."
Harry nodded and walked with her as she showed him a room that looked like it was made just for him. Everything was perfect for an eleven year old boy. There was a dresser with a a myriad of balls on it that gave Harry the impression that Leon enjoyed a sport or two. There was a uniform hanging on the wall that belonged to someone name Gwenog Jones.
"I know it's not perfect, but it's a start," Helena said pensively.
"I think it's great," Harry said, dropping his stuff on the top of the dresser and giving his arms a break. It would have been the happiest day of his life, but it was hard to be happy after having just had his parents deaths thrown in his face. He sat on the bed and let out a breath. "Why didn't you let Mr. Ollivander tell me about my parents?"
Helena sat next to him and put an arm around his shoulders, giving him a squeeze. "I'm sorry if I disappointed you, Harry. I just don't think it's best to hear about your parents from someone who hardly knew them. If I knew them better, I would tell you all I could. The truth is that your parents and I ran in different social circles. I graduated a year after your parents started school and Damond the year after me. We really didn't know them. As for Ollivander, let's just say that he is a gossip monger. Always has been. It's entertaining sometimes, but not everything he says is entirely the truth."
Harry pondered the things she was saying. There was something very right about them, but it didn't stop him from wondering. "How does everyone know who they are, who I am? I've been living with muggles as long as I've known, so why do people know my name?"
"That's…" she started, her voice failing for a brief moment. "Oh Harry. I wish I wasn't the one who had to tell you, but it's not fair to keep the truth from you. I just want you to know that no matter what, you are safe here. Okay?"
She paused and Harry realized he was supposed to respond, but her ominous tone was not as comforting as she was most of the time. "Okay."
"There was a man whose name is feared to this very day. The Dark Lord, He Who Must Not Be Named, You Know Who. He is called many things, but speaking his name was something you just didn't do. He was the leader of a group of blood supremacists called the Death Eaters. They had a rather unorthodox and radical way of expressing their ideals. Their actions incited a war that lasted more than ten years. Over a thousand wizards died, and far more muggles suffered the same fate.
"Your parents fought against the Dark Lord, and very few people survived when he came after them. I'm not aware that anyone knows why he went after them, except perhaps to kill someone who wasn't on his side of the war. Your parents were found dead, your house in ruins, and the body of the Dark Lord was torn to shreds. The evidence suggests that he tried to kill you, but that something went wrong and the whole house blew up. Only you survived, found at the heart of the explosion. So now people think that you are the reason that the Dark Lord died."
"But how do you know he tried to kill me?" Harry asked. He was too young to remember but mere flashes of an undeveloped memory. However, if someone had tried to kill him it would have been easy. There was no reason to believe Harry had done anything.
"His wand was found and the only spell he used that night had been the killing curse. Such a spell does not cause an explosion. It instantly kills any living thing that it touches. There is no defense against it other than to dodge. That's not all the evidence that was considered. Apparently whatever happened created a scar on your forehead, one that no magic could heal. It baffled everyone."
"So I'm famous because I lived," Harry said. He had done nothing to cause this, but it didn't matter to them. He was alive when he shouldn't be. "That's why Daphne called me the Boy Who Lived, isn't it?"
Helena nodded. "Yes. I've tried many times to tell my daughters to respect you as your own person and not the stories that have been told about you. No one needs the pressure of their fame influencing who they are. You may have done what everyone thought impossible, or perhaps it was just something that will never be explained. What we do know is that you are Harry Potter, and you are still alive. I, along with many others, am thankful for it."
"If everyone thinks I killed the Death Eaters leader, then some people probably don't like me very much."
"That's very well thought out, Harry. I'm surprised at your level of awareness. I think it's the same with all those who collect fame. There will be those who admire you, and those who hate you. In this house, I hope you never feel like we are of the latter opinion."
Harry had known something happened to his parents ever since he was little. His Aunt once said they died in a car accident, but subsequently yelled at him for asking too many questions. Now that he had the answer, he couldn't help but feel all the pain that he'd been hoping to feel his whole life. There was a reason for the massive hole in his life, and now he knew what it was. He couldn't stop the tears.
"I'm so sorry," Helena said with a few soft hushing noises. She grabbed him and held him against her, his head resting on her shoulder. "No child should go through what you have. There's nothing I can do to fix what has been done, but I want you to know that I will never turn you away. I will never try to harm you. I know it is a selfish thing, but I want to raise you as my very own. You deserve nothing less."
Harry closed his eyes and hugged her tightly. The vibrations of her voice were steady and strong and made him feel safe. His physical exhaustion mixed with his emotional, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't fight the seductive embrace as sleep overtook him.