Chapter 4: Relief For One, Dread For Another

"Come on, Iris. We wouldn't want to be too late."

Harry held out his hand, and his sister, in a black dress, leggings, and loafers, came over to him. He himself had on dark trousers, dark shoes, and a black blazer, which had underneath it a simple white shirt. His blazer was open so that he looked more casual, and his hair was parted down the middle; the way the strands flowed to the sides of his head gave him the impression of an innocent boy.

His sister looked even more harmless, with her silky black hair going from the sides of her face to her back. Both of them, dressed as such, and with their hair done, looked like polite and well-behaved children.

Upon seeing them, Narcissa had smiled warmly at Iris, calling her a pretty girl, and even gave Harry a compliment, telling him he looked handsome.

Of course, when she talked to him, she sounded far less adoring than with Iris, her voice becoming serious as if she was talking to an adult. To think, Narcissa of all people would ever say such a thing to him- it almost sounded like the premise of a bad joke. Every time he remembered it, and her serious face, he couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle.

Iris grabbed his hand, coming close to his arm so that her face was almost buried in it. She was happier this morning. He could feel it. She hadn't cried at all, and had even gave him a little smile when he reminded her that they would be going out today.

He led her to the fireplace. As they were going closer however, a voice suddenly came from behind them, sounding hesitant and almost desperate.

"Can I come with you?"

Harry knew the voice. It was Draco, and when he turned to look, it was the young Malfoy, standing at the doorway and looking as formal and tip-top as they did. Except, unlike them, that was his daily attire.

Instantly, a reply came from Narcissa, who had been watching them from the side. "Draco!" she hissed, her voice so sharp that her son actually jumped and pointedly fixed his gaze onto the floor. Her glare looked more deadly than a basilisk's.

"Draco, go back to your room this instant—"

"Of course you can," said Harry.

Both of the Malfoy's reaction was a picture. Draco looked up at him, almost in disbelief, and Narcissa's mouth dropped open in horror, turning to look at him like she'd seen a ghost.

Harry nodded at Draco. "Come on, then. You're right, we shouldn't leave you behind to get bored."

The boy grinned happily, and ran over. When he turned to look at his mother's horrified face, however, his smile faded. "Mother? Mother, Harry said I could come. That's okay, right?"

Narcissa couldn't seem to find the words. "Wha… No… My l- Har… ry…" She looked like she was watching her son go out to have his head cut off, instead of watching him leave to visit Diagon Alley.

Draco looked worried. "Mother?" asked in a concerned voice.

Harry, on the other hand, put his face into his palm, the one that wasn't being held by Iris, and sighed. "Draco," he said, "give your mother a hug before we leave."

Draco looked somewhat taken aback, but still walked forward and put his arms around her waist. Narcissa grabbed ahold of him like he was going to disappear any second. She looked down at him, and then at Harry, her eyes shining with tears. After a few moments, Draco tried to pull away, but she tightened her hold on him, pulling him back.

"Narcissa." Harry tried to use as gentle of a voice as he could. "I promise, I will take care of him as if he was my own little brother. Okay? No harm will come to him, and I'll keep him under my watch at all times."

She looked at him like she couldn't understand what he was saying. "Narcissa," he said, even gentler, trying to get the point across. He was not going to murder her son, and her fear was getting annoying. "No harm will come to him, Narcissa."

She stared, looking lost. Draco finally managed to pull himself from her grasp; for a second, she looked like she wanted to grab him back.

Harry gave her a pointed look. Turning around again, he went into the fireplace, Iris trailing behind him, grabbed a handful of floo powder.

"Draco, come here. Stand next to me. We'll go together."

The boy turned from his mother to Harry, and then back again.

"Mother? I can go, right?"

Narcissa was quiet for a few moments, but then gave a fast, shaky nod, almost like she was unsure of whether or not to give him permission.

Draco came to the fireplace and stood next to Harry. The older Potter smiled at Narcissa.

"You act very silly sometimes."

He raised his hand, and threw the powder towards the ground. "The Leaky Cauldron," he said. All three of them disappeared into a bellowing wave of green flame.

Lucius heard fast footsteps from the hallway outside his office, and then the door burst open, with Narcissa coming through.

"Lucius! Lucius," she said, tears flowing from her eyes, and her voice breaking.

He jumped out of his chair. "Narcissa? What's wrong? What's happened?"

"Lucius, he took him! He took Draco!" She came around the desk and put her hands on his shoulders. "Harry took him…"

"Wha- Harry took him? Took him where? Wasn't he going to Diagon Alley with Iris today?"

"Yes, that's where he took him!" she screamed, glaring at him. Her anger was forgotten instantly, however, as she started crying again. "Lucius, he took Draco with him…"

"He took Draco with him…" Lucius felt a cold graveness settle in his chest. "And- and what about Iris? Did she go as well?"

"Yes!"

Lucius furrowed his brows for a second, taken aback. Did she mean…

His voice turned calmer. "Narcissa, do you mean he took Draco with him, along with Iris, to Diagon Alley?"

She nodded, becoming alert as she caught onto his calmness, thinking that he had some plan of action in his mind.

Lucius sighed deeply, closing his eyes and letting his head fall. She'd almost given him a heart attack. He looked back up at her and gave her an amused smile. "Narcissa…"

"What?!" she yelled, glaring at him again.

"Narcissa, they're visiting Diagon Alley. You, had me thinking Draco had been kidnapped."

"Wha- he is! Lucius, he took our son."

"Yes, to buy books and eat ice-cream," Lucius replied, smiling. "You know how different he is, Narcissa, especially around Iris. It's like he's actually human. He smiles. Do you think he would do anything bad, let alone to Draco, when he's with her?"

"But... but what if?" she asked, meeting his eyes again. "We don't know what he could do. We don't even know if he'll be back! What will happen to Draco then?" With the last sentence, her voice broke down into despair once more.

"Yes, you are right, we don't know. But consider who else he's with. If he never comes back, how do you think Iris would feel? She likes it here. And she's friends with Draco. If any harm befalls him, and Iris finds out, how do you think she would feel? Do you think the Dark L- Harry would be okay with her feeling like that?"

She looked to the ground, considering what he said. Then she looked slowly up at him, with sadness in her eyes. "My son…"

Lucius embraced her. "He will be back," he spoke softly.

Pulling away a little so he could see her face, he put a hand on her cheek. "You know, it's likely that Draco is as safe as he can be. If he's with the Dark Lord, then I doubt anything could ever hope to harm him."

Lucius hoped that his intuition was correct. If the Dark Lord was going somewhere with his sister, then he would take care of her, so if Draco was with him as well, then he would take care of him too.

It was not like he or Narcissa had any say anyways. The Dark Lord owned them. However, he seemed to be strangely changed. He genuinely treated them well.

In the trip to Diagon Alley, Draco was amazed by the Potter siblings' relationship. He had never seen a girl love her brother as much as Iris did. She constantly held Harry's hand, and he could tell that much of her happiness during the trip came about because her brother was with her. She smiled at everything, and one time, when Harry had bought ice-cream for Draco and her, he put his arm around his sister, and pulled her close to his side. In that moment, Iris looked like she was in heaven.

It was strange and unique, but nonetheless, Draco thought it was wholesome. Better this than the constant bickering and fighting other siblings were involved in.

One of the highlights was when Harry took them to see the Potter vault at Gringotts. Draco was a little surprised, as he'd assumed others would be as cagey with their belongings as he knew his father was, but the older Potter did not seem to mind that he was there with them.

They'd taken the mine-cart down the track, and then the goblins unlocked the door. Of course, Draco wasn't allowed to go inside, so he waited by the railway as Harry and Iris looked at their valuables. They took a little while, and when they returned, Iris looked shell-shocked.

"Harry, that- all of that was ours?" she'd asked, wide-eyed.

Harry had just smiled and nodded.

The outing was not what Draco expected, but it was still enjoyable regardless. After spending time with Harry, he found himself liking him. The older boy possessed a kind of maturity that Draco had never seen.

What he had not expected was that the most surprising part of his day would be when they returned home.

"MY BABY!"

That was the first thing he heard as soon as they materialized into the Malfoy living room through the fireplace. It was his mother's voice, and she was crying like a little girl. He'd never seen her like that before.

What happened next was also something he'd never seen. She rushed to him with her hands outstretched, and tears streaming down her face. When she did reach him, she grabbed him so tightly that he could feel her fingers pressing into his bones. His face got buried into her stomach, and he could not see anything, or hear anything other than his mother sobbing. She was shaking madly.

"My baby… my baby Draco," she moaned.

"Mmmph! Mmph, mmph!"

This went on for a while, until he finally managed to push himself enough to free his head. She was holding him so tightly that going any further was impossible.

Draco could feel the heat of embarrassment boiling on his face, and he panted for breath. He looked up, almost scared to make eye contact. What in the world had gotten into her?

Looking at his mother proved to be a crucial mistake. As soon as their gazes met, she broke into a new wave of sobs. "Oh, Draco!" she wailed, and fell to her knees, grabbing his cheeks and kissing him all over his face.

"Mother! Ahh!"

The embarrassment was going to burn Draco alive. He closed his eyes and tried to shy away, but couldn't move an inch. If this went on for any longer, he was going to die.

He couldn't take it anymore. "Mother, stop it!" he cried. "Please!"

She finally relented, pulling away a little. Her tears had stopped now, and she smiled at him with swollen, red eyes.

"My Draco," she whispered lovingly, stroking his cheek. "Are you alright?"

He gave a hesitant nod. What did she mean, alright? Nothing had happened to him. He'd only gone to Diagon Alley. Had he missed something?

"Ah… good, that's good." It sounded like she was talking more to herself than him.

She pulled him back into a hug, gently this time, and rested her chin on his shoulder. Draco awkwardly looked at the ground. What in the world was going on…

Harry watched Narcissa fawn over Draco for a couple of seconds, before quickly walking away, eager to create distance between him and the scene unfolding there. It was clear that she needed to do what she was doing for her own sanity, so leaving her to do it was for the best.

Iris hastily followed behind him. Even she looked concerned for Draco, watching his mother squeeze him and cry like he'd just come back from fighting a war.

Reaching their room, he went inside and waited for Iris to come through before closing the door. His sister sat down on one of the chairs in front of his desk, kicking off her shoes. Harry took a deep breath to relax himself, and sat down on the chair next to Iris's, swiveling it around to face her.

"What did you think, Iris? Any thoughts about today?" he asked.

She smiled. "I liked it. Diagon Alley is a nice place."

He lowered his head a little and gave her a look. "And how do you feel? Better now?"

Harry could tell from the look on Iris's face that she knew what he was talking about. As time passed, and the day that he would have to leave for Hogwarts came closer and closer, she'd become increasingly depressed, clinging to him and crying often.

She looked away shyly, not meeting his gaze, but nodded.

"Good." He put his hand on her cheek and leaned forward, kissing her on the forehead.

"Now," he said, sitting back in his chair, "I'll tell you about those things I retrieved from our vault." He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a pair of hand-held mirrors. They were made of gold, and the gemstones encrusted in them shined beautifully in the room's light. Both had the letter "P" engraved at the top.

The bell in Ollivander's shop rung unusually close to closing time as the old man himself heard the front door swing open. He set the boxes in his hand down and went out front to see his customer.

There was only a boy there; one who looked strangely familiar, but impossible to recognize in what way. Ollivander briefly wondered where his parents were and asked as much.

"Greetings, young man. Might I ask where your parents are?"

"I don't have any," the boy replied. "I came by myself."

"Ah, I see. What is your name?"

"Harry. Harry Potter."

Instantly, the missing piece of the puzzle clicked in his mind. Of course… the boy had James's pale skin and raven black hair, but with Lily's green eyes. He looked vaguely reminiscent of both of his parents, but somehow still unique at the same time.

"Goodness!" Ollivander said, marveling. "Harry Potter. I knew you would come this year, Mr. Potter, but I did not expect you to come so early. Hogwarts does not start for another couple of months."

"I know. I wanted to get my wand early, so I don't have to worry about it later."

"Of course, of course… I suppose there is no rule against it. If you will wait here, Mr. Potter."

For someone else, Ollivander might have told them to come back later due to how late it was, but he couldn't make himself turn away James and Lily's son. Not to mention, he had come out all this way by himself.

He went to the back, pulling out boxes which felt like they had the wands most suited to Harry. Coming back to the front, he unboxed the first.

"Your wand arm, Harry?"

"My right one."

"Very good. If you will hold this, then…"

For the next fifteen minutes, Ollivander and Harry developed a very efficient routine. He would hand the boy a wand, only to snatch it away as soon as it was flicked, searching for the next one that could work. It became quite the exercise for the old man, running to the back to get more wands and then bringing them to the front.

"Not to worry, Mr. Potter," he eventually said, huffing. "I have had customers even pickier than you, but I found them all a matching wand eventually."

"I am not worried," Harry replied. "Take your time, Mr. Ollivander."

Ollivander looked at the young man, and was surprised to see that he was indeed not worried. His face was emotionless, and he stood as patiently as he had when the whole ordeal had started. That was strange; most children got stressed when the process began taking longer than normal, and some even cried.

He frowned, momentarily at a loss. All of the wands had been complete misses, and he still had not found an inkling as to what would suit Harry best. Something tickled the back of his mind… he slowly made the connection. But no, that would be impossible. What did Harry have to do with… him?

Going to a lesser used shelf in the back, he looked down at the lowest level, the boxes of wands inside darkened with age. One on the right instantly caught his eye. It was that wand. He'd set this one aside and not looked at it for decades.

He pulled it out, feeling hesitant. As he walked back to the front, a small, uncomfortable feeling settled in his chest.

Setting it down on the counter, he pulled the cover off. Harry's eyes instantly snapped to the wand inside, and for once his face looked different as he became alert.

He reached for it like it was calling to him. Ollivander remained silent, letting him go ahead. He took a step back, still feeling the dread from before.

The moment Harry's fingers touched the wand, his eyes widened. He took it out, and raised it… and Ollivander knew. It was perfect. Not just good, perfect. Like it was made exactly for him. How could that be? What in Merlin's name did Harry have to do with... with him?

"Holly. Eleven inches, nice and supple, with a phoenix feather core," he said, almost regretfully.

Harry stared at it, still astonished, then looked to him. "What makes this one different from the others?"

Ollivander could not keep the sadness from his voice. "Nothing, if we only look at the wand itself. But the phoenix who gave the feather for that wand gave another. Just one other. That feather was in the wand used to… kill… your parents. It belonged to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

The boy looked completely taken off guard. His eyes darted left and right, like he had an immense amount of things going through his mind at once. Ollivander could not blame him.

His expression straightened surprisingly fast, however, falling back to the emotionless look from before. "Very well. I suppose we are done with that, then. So we may move on to the payment."

Ollivander raised his eyebrows. "Ah, O-of course, Mr. Potter. That will be nine galleons."

Harry put the wand inside his blazer, and produced the money from his pocket, setting it down on the counter. Then, without any further conversation, he nodded to Ollivander, turned around, and left, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

The wandmaker was left in a state of light shock. After a while, he gathered his wits, and waved his own wand. All of the failed wands flew back into their boxes, the boxes' covers flew back onto them, and they all floated to the back of the store, going onto their respective shelves. A shutter closed down in front of the shop.

Ollivander walked slowly to the back. Harry. What in the world did an innocent child like Harry have to do with You-Know-Who? If anything, that wand should have gone to his younger sister, seeing as she was the one who defeated the Dark Lord.

It was a powerful wand, though... no doubt it would serve its owner well.

Ollivander froze, cold fear spiking in his body as he remembered something. Those were the exact words that had gone through his mind when he'd sold Tom Riddle his wand.