Harry lowered Aeneas, watching the old man warily as he did, "What's that supposed to mean? You don't know my age?"
"We were expecting, respectfully, an eleven year old," the man said.
"That doesn't sound good for you," Harry snarked, "I'm guessing this is Hogwarts then?"
"Yes," the man said as he walked around the table, offering his hand to Harry, "I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts. You are Harry then?"
"Yeah," Harry grunted, taking the hand, "Harry Potter, Scion of the Seventh Dawn, Warrior of Light, ect. ect."
"I can't say I've heard of either title before, Harry," Dumbledore said.
"What country are we in?" Harry asked.
"Scotland," Dumbledore said, causing Harry pause. There was no nation called Scotland in Etheirys. Don't tell him.
"You pulled me from the Source?" Harry grittied out. Oh, the Scions were going to be panicking so hard.
"The Source? I'm sorry, I don't know what that is."
"Don't worry about it," Harry said, "So I'm here, I assume you want me to join your school?"
"Yes. Your name has been down since you were born. Your age complicates matters a bit, but I see no reason why you shouldn't still be allowed to attend."
Harry quietly brooded over his options. He could leave. He had no interest in learning "Wizardry", but it would make it harder for the Scions to find him.
"Fine," Harry said, begrudgingly, "until I find a way back home, I'll learn here, I guess. Where am I staying?"
"Minerva?" Dumbledore said, "would you be so kind as to show Mr. Potter to the guest quarters near the kitchens? We don't have time to sort him today and I think it would be quite inappropriate to place him with eleven year olds anyways."
"Of course, Albus," a stern looking woman with a deep brough said, standing up.
"And Hagrid, if you could bring Harry to Diagon Alley tomorrow to get his required equipment, it would be appreciated."
"'O course, Headmaster," a man who looked like he would put a Roegadyn to shame said, "We'll get him right sorted. Nice to meet ya, 'arry, I'm Rubeus Hagrid, but call me Hagrid, everyone does. Can I ask what that animal with ya is? I've never seen one.
Harry offered the man a wane smile before running a hand through Squall's feathers, "Squall. He's a Chocobo. Come on, Squall, let's get to bed."
"I'd prefer it if Hagrid took care of Squall," Dumbledore said, "It's quite unsanitary to have a bird like that in the building outside of the Owlery, and they're too big for that."
"Fine," Harry huffed, "He likes his greens, Hagrid."
"Good to know," Hagrid said, "See ya tomorrow, 'arry."
"Yeah, see you," Harry said, drawing Crownsblade and his armored jacket off Squall alongside several cartridges before following Minerva out of the hall.
—
Minerva McGonagall watched the young man flip out a circular cylinder on his sword, lips pressed tight before asking, "You don't really think you need that, do you?"
"Why wouldn't I?" Harry Potter said, his voice yet another reminder of James, "I've been kidnapped, I'm in a place I don't know, for all I know you're bringing me to a trap. I think I do need a weapon, thanks."
That was… Fair. Potter had never agreed to come to Hogwart, had been portkeyed from some place where he clearly aged faster, she could easily see how it was interpreted as a kidnapping. It probably would hold up as one in a court of law. What if he had gone to Durmstrang, or Beauxbaton?
But Albus had been desperate to find Harry Potter after his disappearance, and now it appeared to have both worked and backfired on them.
Finally, they stopped in front of one of the guest quarters, and Minerva unlocked it with a tap of her wand, the door swinging open to reveal a simple room with a four poster bed.
"Thanks," Potter grunted, "Uh, what do I call you? I assume you don't want students calling you Minerva?"
"Professor McGonagall," she said, silently casting a remote viewing charm on the room as Potter stepped into it.
"Goodnight, Professor McGonagall," Potter said, before shutting the door and locking it with a click. Using the remote viewing charm, Minerva watched him rest the sword against the wall and grip the orange crystal around his neck, eyes closed. A glyph appeared in the center of the room, and out of it stepped a young woman with pointy ears, white hair wrapped in a braid, a red jacket over a white shirt and equally white shorts.
"Harry!" She breathed, rushing forwards to hug him. He returned it, resting his head on the top of hers, "What happened? One second you were there, the next-"
"I've been kidnapped," Harry said, "to go to a school on one of the Shards. Can you let the other Scions know, Alisaie? We're gonna need all of your brains to get me home."
"And what about you?"
"I'll manage," Harry said, shrugging, "I'll send letters with Feo Ul once a week so we can have updates. Love you."
—
Hagrid stopped in front of the door Harry was behind, knocking on it so hard it shook in it's frame. That probably hadn't been his finest move, honestly.
Sure enough, Harry threw open the door a moment later, the giant mechanical sword pressing lightly against Hagrid's chest. He slid on his glasses, blinking at Hagrid and saying, dully, "Oh, it's you. Hagrid, right?"
"That's right, 'arry. Sorry for the scare, don't know me own strength sometimes."
Harry grunted, lowering the sword and turning to walk into the room. He grabbed a black coat with golden buttons and several cartridges hanging from it, throwing it on and buttoned it up, "So how are we getting to this place?"
"Floo," Hagrid said, stepping into the roo, "Ya take a bit o' this powder, step into the fireplace and say where you're goin' while tossin' it. You go first, I'll be right after ya, 'arry."
"And where are we going?" Harry asked, taking a pinch of floo powder.
"Leaky Cauldron," Hagrid said, "see ya there."
"The Leaky Cauldron," Harry said, throwing the powder down and vanishing in a flash of green flames. Hagrid did his best to fit into the fireplace, no easy task given his size, and followed after.
They walked out of the Leaky Cauldron's back exit, the pub being nearly empty at that time in the morning. Harry raised an eyebrow at the wall, and Hagrid tapped the brick with the tip of his umbrella, opening the way to "Welcome, to Diagon Alley, Harry."
Hagrid watched the sharp, green eyes of Harry sweep across the alley, seemingly taking in everything in one go. Finally, he asked, "What's Gringotts?"
"First place we're goin'! Wizard bank, we're gonna access your vault!"
"My vault? But I'm not-" Harry went silent.
"Not what, 'arry? Didn't think your parents would leave ya with nothin', did ya?" Harry didn't answer, just looking confused as they stepped into Gringotts. The Goblin didn't look up as they approached, and Hagrid gave a heavy cough, "Mr. Harry Potter would like to access his vault."
—-
Harry tried not to show his confusion as they walked up to the long nosed creature. His vault? Why would he have a vault from his parents? He had grown up on the streets of Ul'dah until he had joined the Thaumaturgist guild. He wasn't… He was from the Source, not this Shard…
"And does Mr. Potter have his key?" The creature said, staring down his long nose at them. Hagrid fished into one of his pockets, pulling out a gold key that looked absolutely miniscule in his giant hand.
"Righ' here," Hagrid handed the key over to the creature, before saying to Harry, "You'll hold on to it after this, 'arry. I was just holdin' onto it till now."
"Thanks," Harry said, before asking the creature, "errr… What are you?"
"Foolish Human," it muttered, in another language, and Harry frowned.
"I'm not foolish because I've never met your kind before. I'm not from around here!"
"Yet you understand Gobbledegook?" the creature said.
"I have an ability that lets me understand any language," Harry elaborated, hedging around naming the Echo.
"Blimey, that sounds useful," Hagrid said.
"I've never heard of such a thing," the creature said, "but it's undeniable you speak our language. I am a goblin, human."
Harry's mind flashed to Goblins on the Source. Small, though larger than a Lalafell, beastmen with bulbous noses and deep black eyes. The only similarity were the black eyes. Harry nodded slowly, "Ok."
"Let's get you to your vault," the Goblin said, "Griphook!"
A goblin came over, "Yes?"
"Mr. Harry Potter wishes to access his vault, please escort him and his friend to it." the first goblin said.
Griphook nodded, guiding them through a set of doors to a large minecart, which they all clambered into. The next thing Harry knew, they were flying down the tracks and he was carefully keeping track of the twists and turns. Finally, they stopped.
"Vault 687," Griphook said, taking the key from Hagrid and slotting it in place. Turning it with a click, he let the door swing open, green smoke billowing out before.
"Thal's balls," Harry swore under his breath, staring at the money. He didn't know how money worked in this world, but even then he could tell this was a tidy sum. Mounds of pure gold, a wall's worth of silver and small hills of bronze.
Harry had never been, what you would call, rich. Growing up on the streets of Ul'dah, where the economic disparity was a well known problem, precluded that. Even after he began to make money as an Adventurer, he hadn't been the best at saving that money. Aetheryte taxes, repairs to his equipment, it all stacked up to make it so that while Harry hadn't been poor since joining the Scions of the Seventh Dawn, he definitely hadn't been rich.
Harry got the distinct feeling that when he got around to transferring this money to Gil, he would have a good chance of joining the Monetarists.
"The gold ones are called Galleons, the silver Sickles, and the bronze Knuts," Hagrid explained, helping Harry shovel some into his purse, "listen, 'arry, you mind if I go for a pick me up after this? These minecarts never sit well with me. Ya can go pick up yer uniform on your own, right?"
"Right," Harry said, glad to slip away from his minder for a bit.
—
Madame Malkin, of Madame Malkin's Robes for All Occasion, looked up at the ringing of the bell above the door. It was a month after Hogwarts started, which was generally a bit of a boring month for her. Parents got the robes done alongside their children the month before, so she only had the occasional straggler come in.
This tall straggler was, in a word, exotic. He had short, messy black hair and a scruff of beard. Dangling from one ear was an earing made of silver and crystal, with a crescent moon shape. Emerald green eyes stared out from tan skin as he walked forwards, a black jacket with one side longer than the other on him.
"Are you Madame Malkin?" The man said.
"Yes," she said, taking the offered feeling the callouses she associated with outdoorsy types. Looking closer, she noticed several light scars across his face, neck and hands, including one that looked like… Well, like Harry Potter's scar. But that was ridiculous, it must be a coincidence!
"What can I get you, dear?" she asked, pulled out a… Hogwarts letter?
"Three sets of plain black work robes, a pointed hat, a winter cloak and… Dragonhide gloves?" The last one took a confused tilt to it.
"Almost sounds like you're going to Hogwarts, dear," Malkin said, even as she pulled out the required equipment.
The man grunted noncommittally.
—
Harry stepped out of Madam Malkin's with his new robes, feeling quite a bit like he was a student at the Thaumaturgy Guild again. It had been a long time since he had been sat down with the first volume of thaumaturgic fundamentals, ready to read through the hellish amount of tomes to get off the streets. Pulling the gloves out of his bag, he ran a hand across them. They were… They weren't brimming with Aether like he would expect from something dragon related. Just really tough leather. Made him wonder how dragons were in this shard.
"'Arry!" Harry turned to see Hagrid walking towards him with a cage in hand, "got somethin' for ya. Figured you could use a pet at Hogwarts, and with that big bird o' yours, figured an owl would make the most sense."
Harry stared down at the snowy white owl in a cage emblazoned with the word "Hedwig". Harry looked up at Hagrid's beetle black eyes and said, "You… You got me a pet? When we just met?"
"Ain't nothin' wrong with getting a friend something to celebrate them goin' to Hogwarts!" Hagrid said, "now, why don't we get you your wand?"
"Ok?" Harry said, following behind the giant of a man, the owl staring at him judgingly. They stepped into a cramped shop called Olivander's, and Harry immediately sensed the Aether in the air, like he had stepped into a Aether Current. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and one hand reached for Crownsblade.
"Ah, I was wondering when I would see you, Mr. Potter," a wizened man's voice said, and out of seemingly nowhere, a man with gray hair standing on end appeared., "Garrick Olivander. A pleasure to meet you, even under these strange circumstances. Rubeus! 16 inches, oak, rather bendy, correct? I expect they snapped it when you were expelled, didn't they?"
"Uh, ye, sorry sir," Hagrid said, "Still got the halves though!"
"I see," Olivander said, "now, let's see… Let's try this one, Mr. Potter, ebony, 11 inches, dragon heartstring, inflexible. Give it a wave," Harry did so, and several boxes quite literally exploded on the shelf, "No, no, no…"
They began to go through wand after wand, the building steadly turning to mayhem until finally-
"...Holly, 11 inches, Phoenix Feather, nice and supple," Olivander handed Harry the wand with a knobby grip. Harry flicked it, and red and gold sparks exploded from the end, "Curious… That that wand would chose you, I can't help but wonder…."
"Wonder what?" Harry asked.
"That wand has a brother, yew, 13 ½ inches, and that wand… That wand gave you this scar," Olivander's hand snapped out and brushed against Harry's forehead, on the faded scar he had had as long as he could remember.
So that was it. He was from this Shard then?
"I think we can expect great things from you, Mr. Potter," Olivander said, "after all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did- I'm sorry?"
Harry had snorted at the title, "Who's that?"
"It's best for Dumbledore to tell ya, 'arry," Hagrid said.