A/N: It's been a while for those of you still following this story. It has not been abandoned, but the pace of updating will not make anyone happy, me included. I finished undergrad and was accepted into medical school, so my free time is currently less than non-existant. This chapter was slowly cobbled together since the last update and has been torn down and rewritten four separate times as I couldn't decide what parts of the story to include and gloss over. I intended this chapter to go all the way to the Hogwarts Express but found myself with a full chapter and decided to put out what I had. Thanks for the follows, favorites and reviews, it warms my heart to see so many of you enjoying this half-baked attempt at a story. If ever the day comes when this story is abandoned, I will post an announcement and a rundown of where I had intended the story to go. Even if it takes me years to finish, I intend to finish this story. Now, on to the good stuff.
Harry blinked as he stepped out into the sun. He was still trying to digest everything that the goblins had dumped on him. Sirius had never been evasive about his own status and that Harry would one day be in a similar situation, but until today he hadn't really grasped the sheer number of galleons his parents had at their disposal. He was so lost in thought he nearly walked right into a tall figure wrapped in billowing black robes.
"Sorry, sir," Harry apologized ducking his head sheepishly. "That was my fault for not watching where I was going."
"Indeed," sneered a cold voice. "At least you have better manners than most of the children running around the alley this time of year, boy."
Harry raised his head to look at the man and caught cold dark eyes staring down at him with a sneer. They widened in surprise and the man took a step back, what little color he had draining from his face. "Potter," he whispered in shock.
"Harry, where'd you get off to?" Sirius called, coming up behind his godson. His own face twisted into a cruel sneer, loathing filling his eyes. "Snape," he grunted, putting as much loathing as possible into the syllable. His hand landed on Harry's shoulder, pulling him closer to his side.
"Black," the dour looking man glared down his hooked nose at Sirius, greasy hair framing his sour face. His cold black eyes flicked to Harry and a grimace of loathing briefly crossed his face before it arranged itself back into a carefully neutral expression. "I'm surprised to see you away from your kennel. Looking for more friends to die in your place?"
Harry felt Sirius's hand go taut on his shoulder and glanced worriedly at his guardian. Sirius stared at the man with an open contempt the boy had never seen on his godfather's face before. "We all knew the stakes during the war, Snape. Remus gave his life killing a traitor. I do wish he could have taken out one more before he caught up to Pettigrew."
Snape glowered at the man, his hand dropping to his side. "I'll remind you we all played our parts in the Dark Lord's downfall Black. Some of us on the front lines, and others cowering behind James Potter's robes." Sirius tossed his head back and let a mocking laugh loose.
"The front lines? Is that what they call selling out war heroes these days?"
"Watch your tongue Black, without your idiotic gang to back you up you were always all bark and no bite." Both men's wands had made an appearance and were at their sides. They stared into each other's eyes, tension crackling between them.
"Go on, Black," Snape said softly. "Make a move and I'll show you why I was able to win the Dark Lord's confidence."
"I'm rather fond of these robes, and don't fancy scrubbing your greasy remains out of them after I trounce you. Besides, we're in a hurry. I daresay we'll settle the matter of insolence to your betters another time. Come along, Harry." Sirius pushed his young ward forward, brushing past the figure in their way. He waited until the crowds had separated them before releasing a long breath.
"Was that wise, my lord?" Amanda spoke from his side. He winced at the judgement in her voice. "I fear you're setting a poor example for young Harry by trading schoolyard insults with your old rival."
"He insulted Remus," Sirius snarled. "I won't let his memory be tarnished by that hateful bat." He turned his gaze to Harry and winced. "Ah, I am sorry you had to see that though. Out of everyone to run into today it had to be him."
"That's all right," Harry shrugged. "He knew who I was before you came up to us though. Most people still think I have those stupid glasses and the scar."
"I'm not surprised," Sirius growled. "He was at school with your father and mother, and anyone who knew them can see them in you. But enough of that miserable lout. I promised you a wand today. We'll try Olivander's first."
At the prospect of a wand, Harry's young mind immediately turned from their encounter with Snape and to the much-vaunted casting tool. Chattering excitedly, he practically dragged Sirius and Amanda down the street.
A hidden bell chimed as the trio pushed open the door of Olivander's shop. Sirius had sent his other peerage members to pick up Harry's books and supplies, keeping Amanda by his side. He didn't want to risk an altercation with any more of Harry's admirers today. Keeping his temper in check when face to face with Snape had taken more of his self-control than he would care to admit.
Harry was eyeing the rows of wands on the shelf with barely concealed excitement. He turned to make a comment to Sirius and let out a startled yelp to find an owlish looking man standing nearly at his side.
"Ah, Mr. Potter," the ethereal old man regarded him closely. "It seems only yesterday your parents were in here buying their first wands. Your mother's wand favored charms. Ten and a quarter inches, willow and rather swishy. Of course, your father was a bit bolder. Eleven inches, mahogany and pliable. An excellent wand for combat and transfiguration."
Sirius cleared his throat from behind Harry, causing the strange man to regard him with curiosity. "Lord Black. I don't recall you patronizing me for your wand."
"No, Mr. Olivander I didn't. Blacks prefer ours to be custom built."
"Hmm, well may I see it? I'm always curious to see what kind of work my competitors are putting out there." Sirius reluctantly handed his wand to the old man, whose eyebrows almost disappeared into his wispy white hair. "Oh my, what a wand. Poplar wood, if I'm not mistaken. Highly unusual to see it in use these days. And what a core, I've only seen a handful of these wands in my life. That can't be an angel feather, can it? No, an angel feather and unicorn hair." He reluctantly passed the wand back to Sirius, who gave him a small nod of thanks. "A most powerful and unusual wand, Lord Black. Full of contradictions and unyielding to any but its master. I daresay it served you quite well, but any other would struggle to bend such a complex piece to their will. Who was its crafter?"
"The Evergroves have crafted the Black family wands for many centuries, but we're here for Harry today." Sirius gently directed the old man's attention back toward Harry. Olivander blinked owlishly at Harry as though he had forgotten the boy standing in front of him. "Of course, my apologies Lord Black. We'll see if we can find him a match. I suspect his needs will be as singular as your own, however."
What followed was a whirlwind of wands. Olivander seemed determined to have Harry try every wand in his shop, only growing more excited as the pile of rejected wands on his counter grew larger. After what Harry swore must have been the hundredth wand, Olivander paused and stared at him analytically. "I fear the wand for you does not lie in my store, Mr. Potter. I do however have one more I'd like for you to try for me."
The strange shopkeeper disappeared into the back of his shop. After several minutes of loud banging and clattering, he reappeared with a single dusty box. Reverently, he pulled the top off and removed a wand from its velvet cradle. "Holly, 11 inches with a phoenix core. Try it out, Mr. Potter." Harry raised the wand and swung it down. With a violent bang the wand flew from his grasp and began ricocheting around the shop. Olivander reached out a hand and grabbed the errant wand out of the air with little effort before depositing it back into the box. "This wand was meant for a hero, but I see that you are not the hero it needs. It would have been most fitting though," he sighed in sadness.
"What do you mean, Mr. Olivander?" Harry asked in curiosity. The wandmaker fixed him with his strange eyes again. "Well Mr. Potter, this wand has a brother. The phoenix whose tail feather lies in this wand gave one other feather, only one. That feather made up the wand of the Dark Lord, the very man who inflicted such tragedy upon your family."
Harry shivered at his words. He wasn't sure he liked the creepy wandmaker very much. Sirius thanked him for his time, and they departed the shop. Harry glanced worriedly at his godfather.
"Is there something wrong with me, Sirius? None of those wands worked for me."
"No Harry, there's nothing wrong with you." Sirius snorted. "I half-expected that anyway. Ollivander is good enough for most witches and wizards, but he can't make something as suited to your needs as Evergrove can."
They turned down a side road and Harry blinked in shock. Where Diagon Alley had been bright and welcoming, this side street was dark and menacing. Cloaked figures huddled to the side of the road, and clustered around shabby carts. Sirius strode forward, shaking his head as he went.
"I really wish Eldritch would move shop," he growled. "I hate coming down here."
An unseen bell tinkled as Sirius and Harry entered the shop. Contrary to its shabby exterior, the inside of the Evergrove workshop was an immaculately kept space. Stacks of wood lined the shelves behind the polished countertop, while jars of various substances were organized in neat lines. Sitting behind the counter was a man in a simple black vest and neatly buttoned white shirt. Where Olivander had seemed almost ethereal, Harry could picture him in any home in Britain, smoking a pipe by a fire. He peered through his large glasses at Harry and Sirius. "Well, there's a mug I never thought I'd see again. Sirius Black, it's been too long. How's your wand treating you? No problems I hope."
"Still works as well as ever, Eldritch. This is my godson and heir, Harry Potter." Sirius placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, smiling proudly. "We've just come from Olivander's; he wasn't able to match Harry to a wand so we're hoping you might be able to help him out."
Eldritch peered at the pair in front of him and grunted. "I'll dare say one of those mass-produced sticks of his wouldn't work for the boy. He's got a fierce aura around him indeed." Rising from his seat, he gestured Harry closer impatiently. Adjusting his glasses, the man peered closely at his forehead before his eyes flicked down to Harry's left hand. A predatory grin cut across the old man's face, and he began chuckling. "Oh Sirius, you've given me a real treat here. What a wonderfully complex creature the boy is. Marked by such dark magic at a young age, blood of the underworld and the spirit of a dragon. No, hang on-"he squinted at Harry again. "-conflicting dragon magic at his very core. Oh, this will be one of my very finest works, Mr. Potter. Perhaps my finest ever." He ducked underneath his counter and reappeared with a large trunk, which he slammed down in front of Harry. Opening it revealed samples of dozens of woods.
"Here's how the process will work, Mr. Potter. I want you to touch these different woods. Let your magic expand out and interact with them. When one feels right, let me know and we can move onto cores."
Harry muttered his understanding, his attention drawn to the wood in front of him. He reached out a hand, trying to sense his magic and feel it the way the shopkeeper had instructed. Running his fingers across the sample blocks of wood, he was surprised to feel a difference between them. Some felt slippery, oily, or cold, but Harry instinctively knew they were rejecting his magic. His fingers brushed across a striped plank, and he paused. It felt like the wood was drinking his magic eagerly and warming to his touch. He looked at Mr. Evergrove and pointed to the wood he had felt. "It's this one, sir. It felt…right."
Evergrove grunted in approval, picking up the indicated block. "American redwood. It's a rare wizard that can channel with this. Just like the tree, your magic will grow to towering heights with a wand like this Mr. Potter." Harry repeated the same process with Evergrove's selection of cores. This proved to be much more difficult. None of the cores Evergrove offered him felt quite right, leaving Harry torn. Seeing his indecision, Evergrove decided to take mercy on him. "Look, Mr. Potter. These are my more standard cores. For a wizard like you, an extraordinary ingredient or two might be better suited. Let me go get my private reserve." Chuckling, the wandmaker hurried to the back, retrieving a set of cores he saved for his more difficult customers. Examining the young boy's aura with a critical eye, he reached into the large trunk and produced a set of jars. "I think we're going to be looking at a minimum of two cores for this wand, perhaps even three. Your very essence is a contradiction, so it makes sense your wand would go outside of traditional wand lore as well. First, one of my most prized cores."
With an air of reverence, Evergrove withdrew a jar of glowing blue strings. "This is a treasure unlike anything else in the world," he murmured. "They've been in my family since before we came to Britain. My ancestor created the wands used to bring down Niddhog, a legendary dragon of her day. These are her heartstrings. Much more suited to the dragon in your sacred gear than some Welsh Green or Hungarian Horntail. Niddhog would have been a Dragon King if she'd been allowed to keep growing. We've only forged one wand with it before, for the royal magician John Dee in the 16th century." Harry reached out a hand and laid it carefully against the glass. Immediately the glow of the strings changed to a deep red and began pulsing. Harry gasped, feeling waves of power pulse through his core in time with the heartstrings.
"I can feel them pulse, Mr. Evergrove." A smile broke across the boy's face as he stared at the lightshow in front of him. Deep within his mind, he felt Ddraig stir and peer at the jar through his eyes. Niddhog wasn't anywhere close to my level of course, but all the power she drank from the world tree wasn't for naught. If she hadn't been such a lazy glutton, she could have been a king or emperor in her own right. Her heart will make a mighty wand for you.
"Very good, very good. The dragon will amplify your magic and increase the power of spells performed with this wand. It is willful and headstrong however and if you fail to show this wand the proper respect, it could turn against you. It should be tempered with something more loyal, more guarded…I think a unicorn tail hair would work best." Evergrove peered at Harry once again.
"Now, the final ingredient Mr. Potter. A drop of your blood to bind this wand to your magic and unify its components." Harry frowned and glanced at Sirius. In the wizarding world blood was guarded jealously. Even a small bit could be used to have a horrific effect on its source. Sirius gave his godson a small nod.
"It's alright Harry. Eldritch is well known for using blood in his wands. It's one of the reasons his shop is on Knockturn Alley, with some of the darker merchants in our world. His integrity is above reproach, and he only needs a drop from you." Eldritch grunted in approval.
"You didn't raise an idiot then. Always be wary, boy. The blood is what makes an Evergrove wand different from any other wandmaker out there. With your blood at its core, the wand will be singularly loyal to you. It will grow with your magic, becoming better suited to your needs and strengths. My wands are no mere tools, they are companions to the wizards who wield them."
Still uneasy, Harry extended his hand to the wandmaker who produced a small needle. With a quick prick, a single crimson drop sat on the end of the metal tool. Evergrove inspected it and gave a short nod. "I'll begin at once. It will take me about a half hour to craft the wand, you may wait out here." With that dismissal, Evergrove strode through a door to the back of his shop and slammed it behind him.
"Well, he was pleasant," Amanda snorted. "No wasted words from that one."
"The wands Eldritch crafts are light years ahead of the competition," Sirius sighed. "Even Olivander can't craft wands like he can, and the old bastard knows it. He's deservedly smug." He turned toward Harry, tousling his hair. "Congrats kid. I've never even heard of Eldritch throwing out that much praise for another wizard. He knows quality when he sees it."
Harry smiled, pushing Sirius's hand away good naturedly. "Um, Sirius…I had a question about earlier. What that man Snape was saying." The sparkle instantly left Sirius's eyes and he seemed to draw within himself.
"I'll do my best to answer your questions, Harry, but there are parts of Snape's story I simply won't tell you. Like him or not, he will be one of your professors at Hogwarts and I won't risk your magical education to get one over on him," Sirius sighed. He motioned to some chairs in the corner of the store and drew his godson over to them. He steepled his fingers and regarded Harry closely.
"I suppose Hogwarts is the best place to start when talking about Severus Snape," Sirius admitted. "He was there with your father, mother, and me. Four of the Gryffindors that year, James, myself, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew formed a little group. We called ourselves the Marauders, and strutted around the school like we owned it. We were young, arrogant, and thought our shit didn't stink. Snape was a Slytherin and was on the receiving end of a lot of our pranks. But he and your father held a special enmity for each other. I was the worst of our group to Snape though, and in fifth year I nearly got him killed. It was only your father's intervention that saved Snape's life. I don't think he could ever forgive that."
Sirius took a deep breath and leaned forward. "I didn't anticipate having this talk with you today, I wish I'd been better prepared. I already told you that your parents were killed by Lord Voldemort, but there's more to the story." Staring grimly at Harry, he continued. "Your parents were under a charm called the Fidelius charm. It makes someone impossible to find unless they are told the secret by the chosen secret-keeper. Your parents wanted me to keep their secret, but I thought I would be too obvious of a choice. I suggested they turn to Pettigrew, the last man anyone would suspect. He betrayed them to Voldemort." Sirius's words took on a bitter tone. "I was prepared to go after him that night and kill him myself, but a friend stopped me and reminded me of my duty to you. I can never repay her for that debt. In my place, Remus went after Peter. He cornered him on a muggle street five days later and defeated him. But as Remus stood over Peter and the coward begged for his life, he hesitated. He was always the softest one of us," Sirius chuckled. "Peter seized his chance and cast a curse that ruptured a gas main under Remus's feet. It killed him, Remus and thirteen muggles who had the bad luck to be nearby."
Sirius paused to rub his temple. Amanda moved behind him and squeezed his shoulder in support. He gave her a watery smile before focusing back on Harry. "After the war, Snape was arrested as a Death Eater, one of Voldemort's followers. At his trial, Dumbledore claimed Snape had been acting as his spy and he got off without so much as a slap on the wrist. I can never forgive him for that." Sirius's eyes darkened at the memory. "There are other things that greasy git will answer for one day, but that is as much of the story you need today, Harry. Be very careful around him, Snape was never one to let a little thing like death get in the way of holding a grudge."
The rest of their time waiting passed in a more pleasant fashion. Sirius began recounting happier memories of his time at Hogwarts, leaving Harry laughing and Amanda shaking her head in disapproval. The door to Evergrove's workshop opened and he emerged carrying a simple black box. His white hair was sticking up in tufts and a sheen of sweat covered his face. He beckoned Harry closer before lifting the lid and allowing him to stare at his wand. The wood was polished to a glass-like finish, letting the light play off the subtle whorls in the wood. A single emerald sat nestled at the base of the wand, glowing with an inner fire.
"Here it is Mr. Potter. The result exceeded even my wildest expectations. Redwood, the heartstring of Yggdrasil's Bane, and unicorn hair. Eleven and a half inches. I had to add the emerald to bring your core together, but it will serve as an excellent focus for this piece." Evergrove slumped in his chair, smirking at Harry's wide-eyed expression. "The burden of a wandmaker is a unique one in our world. The true artists pour our very being into our work, then watch them depart with someone who doesn't understand the labor that goes into them. This wand will go into the records of my family as perhaps our greatest work. See that you treat it with the respect it deserves."
Harry grasped the wand and lifted it out. As soon as he wrapped his fingers around it he felt a rush of warmth down his arm. The emerald blinked with a hidden light and a phantom growl echoed in his head. He lifted the wand above his head and brought it down. With a roar that echoed around the confines of the shop, a gout of red and green sparks blasted from the end of the wand. Evergrove turned to Harry with a wide grin on his face.
"Oh yes, Mr. Potter. I think you will make my work quite famous indeed."
After collecting payment for the wand, Eldritch watched the boy depart his shop, talking excitedly with Sirius. As soon as the bell had dinged behind them, he slumped in his chair, the energy leaving him. He was not a young man anymore and had seen every kind of wizard walk through his door. His mage sight, while a rare gift, was only practical for gauging his customers' needs. He had gotten used to the light that magical auras put off at a young age, and only Albus Dumbledore had ever caught him off guard. But that boy's magic had been like staring into the sun itself. Or perhaps a dragon's fire, he chuckled. But one thing was clear, with power like that Harry Potter would one day rule their world or destroy it.