Chapter 1: A Fated Encounter

"Hagrid, are you sure you're alright?"

Harry stared up at the towering half-giant with a look of concern on his face, noting the faint greenish tint to the otherwise ruddy complexion that peeked through the thick mane that was his hair and beard. He had been like that since the two had sat down in the minecart to visit Harry's vault, and even now as they were walking out of Gringotts entirely, Hagrid seemed only marginally better, walking just a bit more stiffly than normal.

The half-giant shook himself a bit in reply, his face twisting into a foul expression like he was smelling something putrid. "Oi'll be a'right, Harry—Oi jus' hate those things. They make m'stomach do backflips ev'ry toime—bah! Oi'll never ge'used t'it!"

Harry nodded, the thirteen-year-old's own stomach having flipped more than a few times during the break-neck race that the minecart had sailed along. In his case, though, that had more to do with exhilaration than concern, and though he'd stepped off a bit jelly-legged at first, he was right as rain now—a far cry to be sure compared to his half-giant companion. If anything, he was raring for another go.

Perhaps it had something to do with the overwhelming excitement that bubbled through Harry from head to toe—today was positively exhilarating on its own, no minecart race needed! Not only had he found out that he was a wizard, and that his parents had been magical as well, but he was now walking through the most wondrous sights he'd ever seen in London. Everything that he saw around him was some new kind of weird and wonderful, and he wanted to see it all.

Or, at least as much of it as he could before his companion passed out.

Harry cast another concerned glance up to Hagrid, who had taken to leaning against one of the tall lamp posts that ran along the streets of Diagon Alley. He watched as the mountain of a man pulled a massive handkerchief from his coat pocket, wiped down his face, then pushed back from the pole with a deep, heavy sigh.

"Hooo, yeah…Oi think Oi'll be goin' on back t'the Leaky Cauldron f'r a bit'o'a sit an' a stiff drink," he muttered, before turning his gaze back over to Harry. "Y'got yer money on yeh, right Harry?"

"Uh, yeah, I've got it right here," Harry replied, lifting the sizable pouch he'd collected from his vault.

Hagrid nodded, a weak smile breaking through his discomfort. "Roight, Roight—why don'yeh get started on yer shoppin'—y'have yer list on yeh, I know—an' Oi'll come'n foind yeh when Oi'm not feelin' so wobbly, a'right?"

Harry blinked, and glanced around at the storefronts around them. That exhilaration faded slightly as anxiety raised its ugly head in his chest. It was one thing to go to these exciting new places with a giant new friend at his side—it was another entirely to enter them on his own—especially if the people inside reacted in any way like the ones in the Leaky Cauldron had earlier. He wasn't used to so many people turning their attention to him—especially when he didn't know why. He wasn't sure he could handle more of the same when he was on his own.

"I-I mean, I can…but are you sure?" he asked, lifting his eyes back up to the half-giant again. "I mean, I-I don't even know where to start…"

Hagrid, though, gave Harry a kind smile, his bright beetle-black eyes glimmering through the massive mane of his beard. "Oi know, Oi know, seems loike a lot t'take in, ain't it? Why don' y'start wi'yer robes—yeh'll go t'Madam Malkins fer that. An' if y'get done there, Ollivander's'll be th'next place t'go—yeh'll be needin' yer wand, af'er all!"

Madam Malkins, and Ollivander's. Harry rolled the names around his head, and felt the knot of anxiety start to unwind slightly. Alright, he could do that. He lifted his gaze back to Hagrid and gave him a small nod.

The half-giant nodded in reply, before clapping a trash-can-lid-sized hand onto Harry's shoulder and giving him a small nudge. "Then get goin'—Oi'll be jus' a few, don' worry. An' if yeh get wrapped up wi'that, we kin meet up at Florean Fortescue's ice cream shop, a'right?"

With that, Hagrid turned and began trudging his way down the alley back towards the Leaky Cauldron's hidden entrance. Harry stopped to watch him leave, the massive figure wading through the crowds of people out and about for their shopping, before pulling his pouch of gold tight to his side and turning around, once more taking in the wild and weird sights of the alley. Without his companion, he felt small and alone, but he sucked in a deep breath, steadied himself, and firmly marched forward.

It didn't take long for him to find Madam Malkin's—the robe shop looked much like any ordinary muggle boutique, though the storefront was painted a lovely shade of mauve. Over the front doors stood a tall sign that read the store's name—Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions. As he approached, the doors opened and a young blonde boy—perhaps as old as Harry himself—strode out ahead of who Harry could only assume was his mother, carrying a bundle of black robes.

The blonde gave Harry a small side-glance as they passed each other, his face twisting into a sneer—and despite not even sharing a single word, Harry already knew he disliked him. He watched the pair strut off down the alley for a moment, before turning back to the purple storefront and making his way inside, a jingle of a bell announcing his presence.

"Oh, just one moment!" a voice called from deeper within the shop. A half moment later, an older woman a bit on the plumper side pushed her way through a set of curtains that ran along the back half of the store, a bright gleam behind her spectacles as she noted Harry's appearance.

Subconsciously, Harry swooped his bangs over his scar to hide it. "U-uh, hello ma'am, I-I'm—"

"—here for your Hogwarts robes, dearie?" the older witch—who Harry could only assume was Madam Malkins herself—asked with a kind smile, one that broke into a warm laugh as she noted Harry's owlish expression in response. "Oh don't be so surprised! You're may be the tenth child I've seen today doing their school shopping, and I can guarantee you won't be the last."

Madam Malkins stepped to the side, pulling back the curtain a bit. "Now, come on—me and my assistants are helping out another boy, still, but we can get you taken care of, too."

Harry nodded and quickly followed after the older woman, ducking under her arm as he slipped behind the curtain into the back. While the front half was made up of racks and displays of cloaks and robes, the back seemed to be filled with raw materials—each wall was made of several long shelves that were lined from end to end with swaths of fabric, spools of thread and yarn, and boxes glittering with all manner of buttons and clasps.

A couple of stools sat in the center of the room, around which the witch's assistants were buzzing around like hurried worker bees. On one of the stools stood another boy about Harry's age—this one with thick, curly black hair, and bright violet eyes. The boy looked up as Harry entered, and a sheepish smile crossed his face.

"Hogwarts too?" he simply asked.

Harry nodded, stumbling over to the other stool and standing up on it. As soon as he had, a couple of the older witch's assistants darted over to him with measuring tape in hand. "Yeah—it's all a bit much for me, though."

The boy perked up at that and turned his head towards Harry—or at least, as much as he could with the other robemakers busying themselves around him. "Are you a muggleborn?"

"Not really," Harry replied, stiffening a bit as the women began summoning lengths of cloth off one of the shelves and measuring them against his frame. "My parents were magicals, but I was raised by my aunt and uncle, and they're both muggles."

"Oh, I see," the boy nodded. "I was actually raised by my aunt and uncle, too—they're both magicals, though, so I grew up around all this." He paused as one of the women lifted his arms and began pinning up swaths of cloth for his sleeves, making him softly huff in annoyance. "Though, this is a bit much even for me."

A small chuckle left Harry's lips as they turned into a relieved smile. Good, so he wasn't the only one a bit overwhelmed.

"My name's Romulus, by the way, though everyone calls me Romeo," the boy added, tilting his head in a nod before one of the seamstresses tugged his head back as an enchanted needle began weaving its way along his collar. "What's yours?"

"Harry," Harry simply replied, thankful the other boy hadn't supplied a last name—he wasn't sure he wanted to share his own again so soon, the reactions from the Leaky Cauldron once more echoing in the back of his mind.

The boy—Romeo—smiled and reached over as best he could for a handshake. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Harry! You seem alright by my book—hopefully we'll end up in the same House in Hogwarts."

Harry offered a shy smile in reply as he accepted the handshake, awkward though it was with the wrong hand outstretched. The other boy's words confused him, though, and he frowned. "Um, what do you mean by the same House?"

"You know, your Hogwarts House?" Romeo replied, pulling back as the seamstresses got back to work. His violet eyes then flashed with understanding. "Oh, right, you were raised by muggles—you probably don't know much about Hogwarts yet."

Harry shook his head, shrinking in on himself. "Not really—I don't know much about a lot…"

The other boy frowned as he saw Harry seem to shrink, before turning away with a small huff as buttons were summoned to the front of his robes. "Well, it's a good thing you're going to Hogwarts, then. If you don't know much, the best place to learn is at school, right? That's what my uncle always says, at least."

Harry blinked at that, glancing back to Romeo, who shot him a wry smile. Harry found himself smiling in return, feeling a bit more encouraged and standing a bit straighter again.

Before he could reply, though, the jingle of the store's door rang through the building, followed by the clicking of heels. Madam Malkins immediately whirled and hurried out to meet the newcomer, leaving the two boys alone with her assistants—but not for long. A moment later, the curtain was pulled back and revealed a fairly beautiful woman with thick, dark-brown ringlets of hair pulled back in a high ponytail, and she glanced over the shop interior a moment before her gaze landed on Romeo with a smile.

"I see you're almost finished," the woman noted.

"I should hope so, Auntie, they've been poking and prodding me for a while!" Romeo replied.

"Yes, well, if you could stand still for a bit longer than a few minutes, perhaps you would've been done even before the Malfoys left," Madam Malkins noted with a small sniff, stepping up and adjusting the last of the stitching, before pulling back with a nod. "There, that should do—you're good to go."

Romeo let out a relieved sigh, hopping off the stool. "Finally, thank Merlin! Well, Auntie, how do they look?" he asked, arms outstretched as he did a small twirl.

"Like Hogwarts robes," the woman replied. "So I'd say they look just fine."

Romeo let his arms drop with a huff. "Oh, you're no fun—where's Nym when I need her?"

Harry quietly watched the duo out of the corner of his eye, not wanting to intrude on their family moment, and feeling a small, bitter twist in his guts that began to grow tighter. It was clear that Romeo had a much more charmed relationship with his aunt than Harry had with his. He could never imagine Petunia letting him talk like that to her—not without a few sharp words and a few hard slaps, at least.

"Alright, and you're good to go as well, dearie," Madam Malkins suddenly stated, jogging Harry from his thoughts as she finished off the last stitchwork and stepped back with a nod. Harry blinked at that before nodding and stumbling off the stool, shrugging off his new robes as he did.

"I'll go ahead and take that for you, get them duplicated for you, and you can pay at the front," the matronly witch said with a smile, taking the robes in her arms as she made her way back towards the front of the store. "Mrs. Tonks, you can come along too."

The tall brunette nodded, walking up to the front with Romeo in tow as Harry meekly followed. Madam Malkins set both sets of robes down on the counter, pulling Harry's up first—with a flick of her wand, the newly-made set of schoolwear was duplicated, making Harry gasp in surprise as four more sets of robes appeared, one on top of the other. A small smile spread across Madam Malkin's face at his response, and she bound the robes up in a package and set it to the side.

"That'll be sixteen galleons and fourteen sickles, dearie," she requested.

Harry nodded, fishing open his pouch and pulling out the coinage. As he did, he heard a low whistle from behind him, and Romeo stepped up closer as Harry handed over the gold and silver.

"Harry, you're paying for all that yourself?" the other boy asked, leaning on the counter as he watched Harry collect his purchase. "Your aunt and uncle must really trust you—Auntie won't even let me hold my own money most of the time."

"That's because if I did, I'd turn my back for half a minute and you'd come back with a Nimbus 2000 that you most definitely do not need," his aunt replied with a huff, before turning her attention back to Harry. "Though, I must admit I am surprised as well—shouldn't your parents be with you as you're buying your school supplies?"

Again, Harry seemed to shrink in on himself at that, taking the bundled uniforms from Madam Malkins awkwardly into his arms. "No, they…they're dead," he murmured in reply.

Romeo's aunt flinched at that, a dull sadness filling her eyes as she stared down at the young boy. "Oh, I'm so sorry…I had no idea."

At her side, Romeo pushed off the counter and frowned up at his aunt. "Auntie, why do you think I asked about his aunt and uncle instead of his mom and dad? It's because he's like me."

"My relatives aren't here either, though," Harry added, shuffling away from the counter so the other two could step up. "They, um…they don't like magic."

"So you're here alone, then?" the woman asked, pulling out her own pouch for payment as Madam Malkins began duplicating Romeo's clothes as well. Her gaze remained on Harry, though, her warm eyes soft with concern.

"No, I'm not alone," Harry quickly replied, a flush of redness to his cheeks as he felt he needed to defend himself. "I'm here with Hagrid—he works at the school, and he was sent to give me my letter and bring me to Diagon Alley."

"Gave you your letter?" Romeo asked, staring at Harry like he'd grown a second head. "Didn't you get one in the mail?"

"Like I said, my relatives don't like magic," Harry flatly replied.

Romeo stared another good long minute in surprise, while behind him his aunt frowned, counting out the coins for her payment. "I know Hagrid, he's a very kind man. But then where is he?"

Harry shrugged. "He said he wasn't feeling well after the minecarts in Gringotts, so he was going to sit down for a bit at the Leaky Cauldron and catch back up with me once he was feeling better." He pointedly didn't mention the friendly half-giant also going to get a drink—he wasn't sure how anyone would react to him saying his companion was drinking while showing him around, and he didn't want to get him in trouble.

Romeo's aunt seemed a bit more placated by that, and she nodded as she scooped up the bundle of robes Madam Malkins handed her. "Well then, if you don't have anyone to chaperone you at the moment, you can certainly tag along with us. I remember how overwhelming the shops can seem when you're young—I can only imagine what it must be like to go about this on your own."

Now it was Harry's turn to blink in surprise. "A-are you sure? I-I don't want to get in the way."

"Of course—you get along well enough with my dear Romeo, I can't see how it could be a problem," she replied, stepping away from the counter and offering him a kind smile. "My name is Andromeda Tonks, by the way. I'm Romeo's aunt."

The smile was infectious, and Harry found himself sharing it as well, as the knot of anxiety that had twisted up in his gut loosened even more. "I-It's nice to meet you—I'm Harry. J-just Harry," he quickly added, sheepishly.

Andromeda raised an elegant eyebrow at that but said nothing, instead nodding and turning towards the doors, pushing one open to let the two young teenagers step out ahead of her. "Well then, let's get moving."

Harry nodded, stepping back out into the street with a bit more confidence now that he was with others. The tall and brightly-colored buildings that lined the lanes of the district didn't seem as intimidating as Romeo moved to his one side and Andromeda to his other—and especially not once Romeo started taking it upon himself to act as his tour guide, pointing out all the things he didn't know or notice when he'd first walked into the Alley.

With Andromeda's guidance, the young duo were led from shop to shop at a quick pace, filling out their school lists one item at a time. Romeo did try and steer his aunt towards Quality Quidditch Supplies at one point, and Harry once more got a good view of the impressive display of the sleek broomstick set in the shop's large front window, but Andromeda would not be convinced and continued shepherding the two young teens down the street.

Before he'd even known it, Harry found himself walking down the smooth cobbled road with a wrapped bundle of books, a set of brass scales and crystal vials and other implements for potionwork, and a sizable sheaf of parchment with its accompanying quill and bottles of ink, all placed in the wide mouth of the pewter cauldron he swung at his side. His shopping list was almost entirely finished—all that remained was his wand.

And still no sign of Hagrid. Perhaps the rides in the minecarts had run him a bit more ragged than he'd first thought—or, perhaps he'd gotten himself a bit too lost in his cups. Kind though the half-giant was, Harry wouldn't exactly put it past him. He didn't mind, though—his new companions made for nice enough company.

At least, they were nice enough to him—but it hadn't taken him long to notice an odd response to them from the rest of the shoppers walking about. Faint murmurings and curious glances, and the way more than a few stumbled out of their way. For a moment, he thought his bangs had parted again to show his scar…but, no—all those eyes were on Romeo beside him, not him. And more than a few looked…wary.

Frowning, Harry glanced to Romeo beside him—but before he could inquire, Andromeda let out a deep sigh. "And here we are—Ollivander's, finally."

At that, Harry perked up, whirling around to see that they had come to a stop outside a smaller, shabby-looking storefront. The windows were flecked with dust, and over the front door stretched a long sign that read out in bright golden lettering "Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC."

Harry stared at the sign in shock. "He's not that old, is he?"

Andromeda softly laughed at the boy's question and shook her head. "No, no, this is a family business—Ollivander isn't twenty-five centuries old." She paused, and glanced up at the date again, before adding in a soft undertone. "At least, I don't think he is…"

She turned back to the two young boys behind her. "He has been in the business for a while, though, and is the best in it. I remember when I was first going to Hogwarts, and he helped me pick out my first wand." She paused, and glanced back towards Harry. "Be prepared, though…Ollivander is a bit…eccentric. He can come off a bit overwhelming to some—it's the whole reason I saved him for last..."

Both Harry and Romeo shared a glance at that, the other boy's face turning a bit concerned. Her words hung in the air for a moment, before she pulled the door open and ushered the two boys in.

Immediately, Harry was hit by the uncomfortable scent of dust and stale air—a scent he was unfortunately very familiar with. The interior of the shop was unsettlingly still, and from where the trio stood, they could see nothing but rows upon rows upon rows of shelves, drawers, cabinets, and dressers that were lined, stuffed, and stacked with what had to be hundreds of thousands of small, narrow, and long boxes.

Beside him, Romeo crinkled his nose and squinted his eyes. "Ugh, smells like moth balls."

"Yes," Andromeda puffed, in a similar state of discomfort, if a bit more composed than her nephew. "The place hasn't changed a bit."

Harry slowly stepped further into the shop, glancing at the cluttered shelves warily. "Is this…really the place? It looks a bit…shabby?" he awkwardly finished, turning back around to Andromeda.

The older witch nodded, the click of her heels echoing loudly in the still and silent room. "Oh trust me, Harry, this is the place." She came to a stop at the mouth of what had once been an aisle between two shelf stands, and lifted her voice. "Mr. Ollivander?"

Immediately, there was the sound of creaking wood and an odd tumbling roll, and seemingly from out of nowhere, a figure slid into view at the end of one of the other aisles, holding onto a tall library ladder like he'd used it as a zipline. "Yes? What? Can I help you?"

Harry and Romeo both jumped at the sudden appearance of the man, though his appearance alone was cause for shock. The man was old—his hair a white puffball that encircled his head like a halo, and his face folded like a wrinkled sheet of paper. Despite how old he appeared, though, his eyes were bright—much too bright, Harry almost wanted to say, as they had an almost manic glow to them.

Those bright eyes swept across the trio before landing on Andromeda, and a wide smile spread across his wrinkled face. "Ah, Andromeda Tonks né Black. Black Walnut, Unicorn Hair, eleven-and-a-third inches. It is so good to see you again, dear child!"

"And good to see you as well, Mr. Ollivander," Andromeda replied with a somewhat amused smile.

"Yes, well, what brings you to my shop today?" the older man asked, before his almost glassy eyes drifted over the two boys who were staring uncomfortably up at him. Again, his eyes sparked with understanding, and he pulled back, pillowy white eyebrows rising as his gaze turned back to Andromeda.

"Well, Romeo will be attending Hogwarts come this September," Andromeda replied, "So, I've brought him here to receive his first wand."

"And while you were out and about, you found yourself another in need of a wand?" Ollivander asked in a bemused tone, smiling as he turned back to the two young boys. "Yes, of course, I'd be happy to help—especially ones such as these. I knew their parents well, when they came for their wands."

Both Harry and Romeo stiffened at that, though this time Romeo seemed to shrink in on himself while Harry stepped closer. "You—you knew my parents?" he asked.

"Oh yes, Mr. Potter, I know every person who comes here to receive their first wand," the old wandmaker replied with a smile.

Harry's eyes widened, before his cheeks paled, and he blinked owlishly up at the old man. Behind him, he heard Romeo gasp in surprise, and out of the corner of his eye he swore he could see Andromeda slightly smile, as if she knew something. "How…how did you know who I am?"

Ollivander smiled at Harry's question. "I'm sure you'll get this a lot now that you've returned to us, Mr. Potter, but you look so much like your father when he was your age. In fact, for half a moment there, I was convinced a young thirteen-year-old James Potter had stepped right into my shop once again. He took quite a while to find his first wand, but it suited him well—mahogany, with horntail heartstring, eleven inches. Strong, pliable, made for power."

The old wizard stepped closer, his eyes staring deep into Harry's own. "Then I saw your eyes. So much like your mother's—deep, green, full of wonder. She found her wand quickly—a nice willow and unicorn hair, ten-and-a-quarter inches and swishy. Good for charm work, which I remember she specialized in." His gaze softened as he pulled back to stare at Harry as a whole once more. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Harry shifted uncomfortably where he stood, not sure how to respond. "O-oh, thank you—I-I didn't really know them, though, so…"

"Wait, Harry," Romeo finally spoke up, stepping closer to stare in shock. "You're Harry Potter?"

Harry winced at Romeo's question, and offered a sheepish shrug. He felt an uncomfortable weight rest on him, as all attention was now his way—and he still didn't really understand why. He would certainly have to sit down with Hagrid once all was said and done, and get to the bottom of this.

Romeo blinked owlishly at him, and seemed about to ask another question, when Ollivander suddenly spoke up again. "As for you, Mr. Lestrange," the old wandmaker hummed in thought. "You certainly take a good deal after your mother—I can see but a shadow of your father in you. Blackthorn and Thestral hair, I remember, and a temperamental wand at that. Your mother's was much more welcoming—Walnut and dragon heartstring, twelve-and-three-quarter-inches long, but unyielding. It served her well enough, ill though that service was."

Harry frowned as he heard how Ollivander's tone dipped towards the end, and his gaze shifted over to Romeo. The other boy had his jaw set and clenched, and he bowed his head to break the wandmaker's gaze. "C-could we talk about something else?"

"I think I agree with my nephew, Mr. Ollivander," Andromeda noted, stepping closer to place a comforting hand on Romeo's shoulder. "Shouldn't we get on with the wands?"

"Ah, yes! Of course!" Ollivander declared, suddenly shifting into a brighter, excited tone with such swiftness it gave Harry whiplash.

He immediately pulled away from Romeo and darted over to the nearest stack of boxes, his long, thin fingers dragging across them curiously, before letting out a delighted gasp and carefully pulling one out like a jenga block. He paused, glancing over it intently again, before hurrying back over to the trio at the front of his shop, removed the box's lid, and passed it over to Harry to inspect.

"Let's start with you, Mr. Potter—Applewood, ten-and-a-third-inches, give it a swish!"

Harry glanced between Ollivander and the wand he offered for a moment before carefully reaching into the box and pulling the wand out from within. It was well polished, and felt cool against his hand, and he frowned as he glanced up to Ollivander. "So, I just…?"

"Just give it a swish," Ollivander nodded, taking a step back.

Harry frowned, turning back to glance at Romeo, but the other boy gave him a small shrug in reply. With no other guidance to go off of, Harry turned and swung the wand like a conductor in a symphony—only for Ollivander to immediately snatch the wand from his hand and start tutting away.

"No no no, that won't do!" he muttered, scuttling off down a different aisle and returning with a different box in tow. "Perhaps this—spruce, eleven inches, very springy!"

Harry took the wand and once again went to swing, but he'd barely finished his twirl when the old wandmaker plucked the wand away and shook his head. "No no, not that one either! Oh, this is a good one!"

And once more, Ollivander disappeared down a different aisle, popping up and down the shelves as he drew wand after wand for Harry to try. Over and over, Harry would swish his wrist, trying to make anything happen, only for the old wandmaker to snatch it from his grasp and replace it with another, a small pile of discarded wands slowly building up in the front of the shop, much to his own shock and discomfort—especially as he could feel Andromeda and Romeo's eyes on him the whole time.

Just when Harry was starting to think that, perhaps, it was hopeless—that despite all the wands that filled this shop, none of them were right for him, and Ollivander would toss him out in disgrace—he heard a bemused hum from the aisle Ollivander had disappeared down.

"Hmm…I wonder…"

Slowly, the old wizard made his way back to the front of the store, holding a single black box in his hand. "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches," Ollivander declared, popping the top and holding it out to him.

The wand was a polished dark wood, a slight reddish tint compared to the other wands Harry had seen thus far. Harry stared at it for a moment, unconvinced…yet something about the wand seemed to call to him. He reached into the box, wrapping his fingers around the base and pulling it free.

He felt it as soon as the wand was pulled out of the case—a warmth that spread from the tips of his fingers, up the length of his arm, into his chest, and then out through his entire body. He gasped, his eyes widened in shock, as bright red sparks burst from the tip of his wand, and a faint breeze billowed out from around him, making his hair whip up and away from his forehead.

"Whoa…wicked," Romeo murmured, slowly stepping closer.

Behind him, Andromeda nodded, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. "I think it's safe to say that is a success, then."

Harry couldn't help but agree, a smile slowly creeping across his face and spreading into an elated grin. As he raised his gaze, though, he paused, seeing the concerned look flash across Ollivander's glassy bright eyes. "Sir?"

His words seemed to shake Ollivander from his reverie, and he shook his head. "Forgive me, Mr. Potter…I just find that most curious."

Romeo frowned, turning to Ollivander as well now. "Sorry, but…what does that mean?"

"What I mean, young Mr. Lestrange," Ollivander replied in a soft, almost reverent tone, "is that I find it most curious indeed…you see, the core of that wand is phoenix feather. I have a number of wands with phoenix feathers in them, but the phoenix that gifted me the feather for that holly wand gave me just one other feather. Just the one."

Ollivander stepped slowly closer to Harry, his gaze rising to his forehead—his bangs still blown back from the breeze and revealing his lightning-bolt scar for all in the shop to see. "And the owner of that wand just so happened to be the very man who gave Mr. Potter here that scar."

Harry froze, feeling as if all the air in his lungs had been sucked away. "Who?"

Ollivander shook his head. "We do not speak his name, for the things he did were terrible atrocities best left in the past. But yes, He Who Must Not Be Named owned the brother to the wand you now hold." His eyes seemed to grow more glassy as he pulled away from Harry, staring down at him with a peculiar gaze. "I can only assume we can expect great things from you, Mr. Potter—I just hope for all our sakes it will not be so terrible as the great things He Who Must Not Be Named did."

Harry swallowed hard as a still chill filled the store. He definitely needed to sit down with Hagrid the next chance he had.

The quiet hung in the air a moment longer, before Andromeda cleared her throat. "Well, now that Harry's found his wand, perhaps we could find one for Romeo here?"

Both Harry and Romeo snapped back into focus at that, though Romeo was looking a bit more concerned now at the prospects of his wand-choosing. Ollivander, though, immediately perked up and shot a beaming smile back at the witch. "Yes, yes, of course! There's more work to be done after all!"

With that, he scuttled back into the shaded aisles of his shop once more, leaving the trio in awkward silence. Harry slowly rolled the wand in his hand back and forth, the comforting warmth he felt in his hand offsetting the discomfort from that interaction. His gaze drifted over to Romeo, who shifted and fidgeted nervously in place.

Just as with Harry, Ollivander would pop back with a new wand and offer it up to Romeo—and the second the boy would try to swish and flick, the wand would be snatched away and shortly thereafter replaced with another. The pile of rejects that Harry had started only continued to grow, and the concern Harry had felt before was replaced with his own amusement.

"I guess this is just how it is for everyone, then?" he wondered aloud.

Andromeda, who had slipped beside him, shrugged. "Not everyone—it took me a while to find my first wand, and Romeo's mother took nearly twice as long as yours, but my youngest sister found hers on the second box."

"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter," Ollivander noted with a wry smile, plucking another wand from Romeo's hand with a shake of the head. "And sometimes they can be very fickle."

"Well hopefully the right one will show up soon!" Romeo muttered, clearly growing tired of this.

"Now now, Mr. Lestrange, you can't rush the process!" Ollivander replied as he hurried down the last aisle, humming to himself as he searched. His humming drifted off, though, after a moment, and for the second time since stepping into this store, they heard him softly murmur, "I wonder…"

"Oh, that can't be good," Romeo murmured, looking back to his aunt and Harry with concern.

When he turned back around, the wandmaker was already back, staring furtively down at him. Another box was held in his hands, the lid removed already, and sitting on a bed of soft velum was a fairly long wand of dark brown wood, carved with an odd twist up to the mid-point. Romeo stared down at the wand curiously, then back up at Ollivander, before reaching for the twisting grip—only for Ollivander to pull the box back, just out of reach.

"I would reiterate, Mr. Lestrange," Ollivander murmured softly, "that the wand chooses the wizard—but it is the wizard that chooses what the wand will do. You may look like your mother, but it is up to you whether you become the person the world knows her to be."

Romeo frowned at the wandmaker's words, and he almost pulled his hand back—before reaching the rest of the way and wrapping his hand around the twisting grip. This time, Ollivander did not stop him, and after a moment's hesitation, he pulled the wand free.

A cool, calming sensation rolled over him, like a dip in a lake on a very hot day. Both Harry and Andromeda watched as he visibly relaxed, his shoulders slumping as the tension that had been building up with each discarded wand faded away. He twirled his wrist and swished the wand in the air in front of him—and an arc of a greenish-blue light erupted from the tip and curved through the air, swirling about, before dissipating into green sparkles.

Romeo sighed, a smile spreading across his face, and he nodded. "This is it," he murmured, his fingers wrapping tighter around the grip of the wand. His gaze lifted back to Ollivander, who met him with a somber smile and a nod of agreement.

"And it will serve you well, Mr. Lestrange. Walnut and dragon heartstring, twelve-and-three-quarter-inches, flexible." He took the box back and slowly meandered towards what appeared like the front desk of the shop. "May you prove the better wizard than the one that owned its twin."

His words brought an uneasy tension back to the air once again, and the trio seemed to silently agree they were ready to be done with it, hurriedly paying for the two wands and making their way out of the shop with a final farewell to the strange man within.

As soon as they stepped out, a voice called out to them. "Wotcher, Mum, Romeo! I was wondering where you two'd run off to!"

Harry perked up at the sharp voice, and a soft blush crossed his cheeks as he saw a young woman, maybe in her late teens, run up to them, her hair a shocking bright shade of pink and eyes just as vivid. Unlike the many wizards and witches that wandered the alley, she stuck out like a sore thumb—not just by her hair, but by the ripped faded jeans and cropped-top shirt displaying a band Harry had only heard of from his aunt's meanspirited gossip about "twisted, misguided youths".

Actually, now that he saw her again, he was sure this girl was exactly the kind to make his aunt go utterly ballistic at the sight of. Immediately, he liked her.

Andromeda smiled as the punkish girl approached and set her hands on her hips. "I was about to say the same for you, Nymphadora—we barely arrived at the Alley when you went and ran off on your own."

To Harry's shock, the moment Andromeda mentioned the name "Nymphadora", the punkish girl's cheeks puffed out in indignation and her hair turned a shocking bright shade of red. "Mum! I thought I told you, I don't like being called that anymore! Just Nym or Dora!"

"But it's such a beautiful name, Nymphadora," Andromeda replied, clearly not letting up.

The girl—Nymphadora, Nym, Dora, or whatever—let out a low groan of frustration, before shaking her head—her hair shifting back to the soft pink it was before. "Anyways, I was just catching up with the twins—I didn't think you'd get through the whole list while I was gone! I wanted to be there when Romeo got his wand!"

"Then you shouldn't have run off like you had—you missed quite the spectacle," Andromeda replied with a bemused smile, before glancing back to Harry. "Two of them, I might add."

Harry blushed a bit in embarrassment, hoping she wouldn't bring such attention to him. He quickly futzed with his hair again, sweeping the bangs back down over his scar as the punkish girl's attention turned to him.

"Oh, who's this?" she asked, peering closer.

Romeo glanced between Harry and his cousin before stepping forward. "Well, Nym, this is—"

"HARRY!"

The small family jolted at the bellowing cry, though Harry slumped with relief at the familiar booming voice of Hagrid. The massive half-giant was plowing his way down the alley, waving a hand high over his head as he made his way towards them.

"S'rry fer takin' so long there, Harry," Hagrid apologized as he got closer. "Th'time really jus' got away fr'm me—Oi'm s'rry oi left yeh off on yer own fer so long!"

"It's fine, Hagrid, I did alright, thanks to them," Harry replied, quickly slipping into the half-giant's shadow at his side.

"Oh, good, that's a relief," Hagrid sighed, before furrowing his brow as he just now noticed the others before him. "Oh, issat Andromeda Tonks? Ah! An' little Nymmie! Wha' a surp'ise t'see y'two ou'n'abou'!"

"Yes, well, we're just out getting school supplies as well," Andromeda replied with a smile, ignoring her daughter's scowl as she patted her nephew affectionately on the shoulder. "It'll be Romeo's first year, as well."

"Issat right?" Hagrid asked—and for a fraction of a moment, Harry swore he saw a shadow cast over the friendly half-giant's face—before he shook it off and beamed down at the other young thirteen-year-old. "Well, congratulations're in order—Oi can' wai' t'see yeh when y'arrive. Oi ac'ually bring th'firs'years t'th'castle e'ery year, but it's noice t'meecha before."

Romeo gave the massive man a small nod, clearly surprised by his incredible size. "Nice to…meet you too…Mr. Hagrid."

Andromeda smiled and patted Romeo's shoulder again, before giving Hagrid a small nod as well. "Well, we should be getting on with our day, and I believe you still have much to do with your own charge, yes?"

"Oh, roight!" Hagrid declared, clapping Harry on the shoulder. "Cummon, Harry, Oi've got lunch fer us back at th'Leaky Cauldron, an' then we kin wrap up yer shoppin'-oi still need t'getcha yer birthday present, af'er all'."

Harry stumbled from the clap to his shoulder, a bit of a flush to his cheeks as the half-giant let known his plans. He didn't need to get him anything…but lunch did sound good right about now. "Alright, Hagrid—besides, I have some things I'd like to ask you once we get a chance to sit down."

The massive half-giant nodded, turning and marching his way back down the road where he'd come from with Harry close in tow. The young wizard-to-be followed close behind, though pausing a moment to look back towards the small family making their way down the alley. He caught Romeo's eye, the two sharing a glance, and he smiled as he waved, before quickly catching up with his larger friend.

Hopefully, this wouldn't be the last time they would meet.