Reviews:
muratira: I'm certainly glad that it has proven interesting so far. I hope for this to take many turns along the way that will make sense, all things considered. And I also plan for Ymir and Harry both to have very defined personalities and motivations the more the story progresses.
Epicgamer2034: Thank you, I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. The next chapter is right here.
Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan is owned by Hajime Isayama. I own nothing.
Chapter 3: Stories and Truth
The sun was on a slow decline through the sky as the summer afternoon began to draw to a close. Golden light bathed the Scottish landscape, reflecting magically off of the immense castle that overlooked a large lake and even larger series of expanding forest. No matter what season of the year, Hogwarts castle always managed to radiate its own aura to perfectly match the mood of its environment. It was a detail Minerva McGonagall had noticed dozens of times when patrolling the corridors, but one she scarcely had time to appreciate at the moment.
She was all but fuming as she strode with purpose past the moving paintings, the ghosts that floated by, not even stopping to stop the resident poltergeist, Peeves, from tipping some of the paintings upside down in an act of usual mischief.
No. A single purpose had consumed her since earlier that day and she was here to see her promise followed through.
When she came face to face with a gargoyle, she spoke the password of the preferred candy the headmaster had chosen. "Toffee Tart."
The gargoyle stepped aside and made way for her to ascend the spiral staircase that it guarded. She took the stairs three at a time in her usual brisk yet firm style, stopping only once she had reached the door at the top.
Giving a firmly curt knock, she was greeted with a kindly, "Come in," from the other side.
Even by wizard standards, Dumbledore's office was a hub of excitement. Dozens of shiny and twirling instruments lined the shelves and stands littered around the modest study. The basin that was tucked away in an alcove emitted a cooling silvery glow from where memories swirled around in the Pensieve. Portraits of headmasters past lined the wall around the central desk, most of which seemed to be asleep. Also, a large perch was stationed beside the desk where a large, majestic scarlet phoenix rested.
"Ah, Minerva, you've returned. How were the introductions?" Dumbledore smiled with mirthful delight as she entered, his half-moon spectacles hung low down his nose. He had chosen a set of periwinkle robes that seemed to make his twinkling blue eyes pop.
"Indeed I have, Albus," she tried to keep her voice even for the time being. "And some of my visits proved far more interesting than others."
Dumbledore nodded keenly. "You refer to our young Mr. Potter, no doubt. His letter of reply was far from conventional."
"That I do," she admitted. "It is about Harry Potter, but more specifically, his living conditions." She made sure to fix Dumbledore with a look she reserved for a pair of mischief making Weasley twins.
His smile faltered and the twinkle in his eyes seemed to dim at the mention. "He is doing well, I hope."
"He ought to be after today," she withheld a more aggressive tone. "I told you, Albus, I told you all those years ago that they were the worst sort of muggles imaginable. Harry Potter never should have been left in their care!"
"How have they been treating him?" Dumbledore asked, offering her a seat, which she declined. Even for a wizard as powerful as himself, he was unable to know the full extent of every situation.
"Aside from appearing severely malnourished, they had the lad living in a cupboard," she fumed. "To have endured that for so long, it's a miracle Potter still had a will to rebel against all of it. The boy has a drive of some sort, that's for sure."
"I trust that you spoke with his guardians about this matter?" Dumbledore asked, his twinkle having gone out from the news. At least he was showing remorse for his decision to leave the boy at that house.
"Well, of course!" McGonagall stated. "I kept my cool about me, however hard it might have been, but if they value their livelihood they'll start treating that boy with more consideration."
She paced in front of his desk. The frustration that she had felt from before started to rise back to the surface.
"Merlin!" she cursed. "Why had no one ever stopped by to check in on him?" Perhaps the single most famous person in the magical community had endured a childhood of neglect and mistreatment. How could that just go overlooked?
Dumbledore just slowly nodded his head in thought. "I have kept in contact with Arabella Figg. She is a neighbor who-,"
"-Whose sanity is questionable at best," McGonagall continued to pace in frustration, her Scottish temper slowly taking hold. "How much can an elderly squib do to watch out for a magical child's wellbeing?"
"You know that I wished for Harry to grow up away from the fame he will surely experience once he attends school," Dumbledore explained yet again. "Despite her lack of magic, Arabella Figg can be quite spry when need be. I felt that she would fit in better in a muggle setting and hopefully keep a closer watch than was clearly lacking." He sighed deeply. "That was an error in judgement on my end. I perhaps thought too highly of Petunia's ability of honoring her sister's memory."
"Yes, you told me that night that even you are prone to making mistakes," McGonagall recalled his words. "But what truly matters, Albus, is how to correct them."
"I agree wholeheartedly," he met her gaze once she stopped her intensive pacing in front of his desk "However, the fact still remains that they are the only family that Harry has here. Remus would be an ideal choice for a guardian, but given his condition the Ministry would never allow him to care for a child. And with his godfather imprisoned with no trial likely to happen, there was no other choice. And even as undesirable as it may seem, the blood wards surrounding Privet Drive should-,"
"-Blood wards that are only designed to prevent outside threats," McGonagall interjected yet again. "You've told me about the wards before, Albus, the ones in place should be more than powerful enough to have prevented years of neglect from his caretakers. Perhaps the wards should be revisited." She didn't bother to phrase that as a question.
Dumbledore stood up as well, a hint of a twinkle beginning to return to his eyes. "Yes. You are correct, Minerva. I'll have Hagrid stop by on the boy's birthday to take young Harry to go buy his supplies. I'll stop by then to make sure the wards are adjusted to be more adequate given the circumstances."
"I'd certainly hope so," she straightened her posture. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have lessons I have to finish planning for the future first-years."
Giving a curt nod to the headmaster, she turned and made her way back to the door that would take her down the spiral stairway.
"Minerva." Dumbledore's voice stopped her before she could exit.
"Yes?" she inquired.
He smiled genuinely at her. "Thank you for informing me of this. I hope to make the future a little easier for our young Mr. Potter."
Her lips curled upward only slightly. "I'd certainly hope so."
With that, she left.
It was a nice feeling to actually have room to move around in. Harry figured that it was a feeling most people would have taken for granted, but for him, he felt he had won a small little victory in a war he never knew that he was a part of.
McGonagall had instilled a clear fear in the Dursley's that he never knew was possible. While she had not raised her voice or even openly threatened them with the magic she clearly had, she still made them submissive with her presence. Because of it, he now had Dudley's second bedroom to call his own.
While it was the smallest bedroom that the Dursley's had to offer (perhaps as their way of still trying to show they had some power over their home) Harry found that he wasn't going to complain anytime soon even if that was the case. Once the room had been stripped of the last of Dudley's junk, Harry was left with a bare bed, a desk, and a wardrobe to occupy the space.
The room would have to stay bare for the time being; he had no decorations to call his own just yet. Maybe once he got his school supplies he would be able to buy something to make the room feel more… him.
Huh? That was odd to think about.
His whole life had just taken a sudden turn with some startling truths. The Harry Potter that the Dursley's had wanted him to be was different than the Harry Potter that others seemed to know.
Less than half a day had passed and he learned that his parents were not careless drunks and that they had actually left money in his name. On top of that, he was apparently famous for something he didn't even do. And if he did do it, he sure didn't remember it. To be remembered just for surviving a tragedy… who would want that?
'Are you doing alright?' the increasingly familiar voice of Ymir sounded in his head. Had she perhaps some way of also sensing his emotions.
Fine, he replied simply. Just kind of having trouble deciding what I'm actually going to do with my own room.
'Does it smell?' she asked.
What? Why?
'That Dudley boy kept his stuff in here, didn't he? I can't imagine he bothered to clean it as often as he should've.'
Harry sniffed the air after her comment. There was a distinct musty smell that lingered, something that he had become accustomed to after living for years under the stairs.
You're right, but that isn't really what I meant.
'Does it have to do with what that McGonagall lady said?'
If he could convey a mental nod, he hoped he did so correctly. I guess I'm just now realizing how fast my life seems to be changing. He took her silence as a cue to continue his train of thought. I should be happy, I know. I have my own room now, I'll be going to school far away from here, I have someone to talk to about all of this, but… McGonagall said that practically everyone in the wizarding world knows about me.
'And you don't want to be famous?' she guessed.
I don't want to be famous for something that I didn't or don't remember doing, Harry specified. The same goes for my parents. I wouldn't want to be recognized because of what someone else did for me, I'd want to do it myself. You can understand that, right?
'I certainly can,' she agreed. 'As impossible as it might seem for me to do, I can relate.'
You can?
He could almost picture her nodding. 'Shadows from a parent's actions can be cast larger from the past, especially from a child's view.'
She let that resonate with him, saying nothing else until she felt it was right to do so.
'So what do you make of it, then?' she inquired. 'That whole story and that wizard, Voldemort, was his name?'
I mean, someone had to have found me. Found me and brought me here. I don't know why he would want to try and kill me to begin with. Maybe he was just bad like McGonagall said. Still, I have to be alive because of my parents.
'Yes. I have life because of my parents, too. I'm sure others can agree.' Perhaps she thought that might lighten the mood.
Just a little.
Very funny, you know what I mean. He thought over that story again. I couldn't have fought him off if he actually was trying to kill me.
'I don't know. You seem like you could have a really serious temper if you wanted to use it.'
Oh yeah. I must have thrown a tantrum so bad that even Dudley would be impressed.
'That sounds believable to me. Or maybe the people think that you fought in some epic duel of magic.'
Harry almost rolled his eyes at that. Yeah, I had a wand hidden away in my diaper the entire time for exactly that. The spittle from my drool probably blinded him before I finished him off.
'Pfft! Fufufu ah!' she laughed at how absurd it must have sounded. It was the first time he heard her do so. It sounded nice.
Heh. Ha! Harry found himself unable to stop a laugh from escaping, both mentally and physically. I guess it was kind of funny.
'So… do you feel a little bit better now?' she asked, composing herself before she had asked.
Yeah, I guess so, he found a small smile had worked its way onto his face. Sure, he might not know how he survived that night, but he knew for certain how he didn't. That had to count for something, right?
'No "thank you, Ymir?"'
You were the one who laughed first.
'So? I wasn't the one who needed cheering up.'
Fine, he relented with an eye roll. Thank you for listening.
'Why, you're very welcome, good sir.' If she were actually here with him, Harry could picture the mock bow she would have given to accompany her gratitude.
Well, aren't you polite.
'It is expected of me.'
Expected? Harry parroted her phrasing. You know, you never really struck me as someone to let other people tell her how to behave.
'You wouldn't be entirely wrong,' she didn't bother to disagree. 'I just said it was expected of me, whether or not I actually do is up to me to decide.'
That sounded more accurate. Alright, fair enough.
'Does that make you jealous?' she asked.
Jealous? Why would you say that? he was curious to know.
'Because believe it or not, you also strike me as someone who likes other people telling him what to do - at least for the really important stuff. Why else would you have let McGonagall see the cupboard? You clearly hate how you were treated before and wanted to see it ended. Again, I can very much relate.'
You're not wrong, Harry gave her that much. I guess I just wanted a little bit of freedom, that's all.
'If that's the case, you shouldn't have had to do that,' Ymir said quite suddenly.
Harry furrowed his brow at her words. Well, I wasn't just about to stay trapped under there forever. He defended his choice. I thought you said that you could relate.
'No. What I meant was that you shouldn't have wanted freedom in the first place.'
Now she was starting to confuse him. Ymir didn't strike him as being two-faced so hearing her say something like that was a hard slap to his head. He was about to reply hotly before she continued her wording.
'Freedom should just be natural to you. Fighting for it should be something you never have to do.'
She sounded so sure of herself. What she had just said went beyond just motivational words; they were a creed, a philosophy. Any anger he had built up dissipated at her belief. For something so simple, it was fully gratifying to actually hear be spoken. A missing piece that he had never known that he needed.
You… really believe that? About me?
Later that night, he would have more of his disjointed dreams. That almost apathetic melancholy voice of the man would speak once more. "I've always been that way." Flashes of a cabin in the woods, a bloody knife lay discarded. "I would take the freedom away from those who sought to steal the freedom of others."
But that lay in the distantly near future. For the present, Ymir spoke to him.
'I believe it without a doubt. Especially for you.'
The summer days passed by quite slowly after that exciting visit by the Hogwarts witch. Most of the time, Harry spent in his new room, not venturing outside of the house too much despite his baser instincts. He had noticed that Dudley had been giving him beady glares at meals and he knew that the larger boy still held resentment for having something taken away from him. Venturing too far away from the house would just lead to an unpleasant encounter with Dudley and his gang of friends.
It didn't help that some of the dreams he had recently seemed to encourage his bout of self-isolation.
Sounds of galloping horses, colorful flares being shot up into the air as a massively tall humanoid shape stood menacingly in the distance. There was a fence in a countryside setting; sitting beyond it was a young girl by a stack of hay wiping her nose. She seemed lonely.
He rubbed his eyes as he woke up that morning. Another tear had escaped from his lid.
After making his way downstairs for the usual morning routine, Harry started on the dishes once Aunt Petunia had finished cooking. It was a task she had taken up more often since the visit, maybe fearing that she was being put under watch. Either way, Harry wasn't complaining about that either.
Putting away a freshly cleaned glass, Harry took notice of the small kitchen calendar that was hanging up. The date read July 31st, his birthday. He was officially eleven-year-old today.
Hey, Ymir, are you there?
There was no reply at first, perhaps she was distracted or even asleep at the moment. After all, he didn't know the time difference between Surrey and Paradis.
'Hm? What? What's going on?' she finally replied, sounding a little dazed. Maybe she had been sleeping.
Nothing's going on - not right now, at least. It's just that today's my birthday, that's all.
Had this been before, this would have just been another day that would have come and gone without much thought. The Dursley's sure never cared about it to even mention anything about this day in the past, perhaps they didn't even know what it was. Actually having someone to talk to, and who actually seemed to enjoy speaking with him made this otherwise average day just a little bit more worth it.
'Wait. That's… today,' a forgetful hurt crept into her inflations. 'Oh! Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't think it was today. I-, I wish I had something to give to you.'
No, it's fine, Harry wanted to reassure her after her sudden bout of guilt. I'm not Dudley, I'm not going to start screaming and whining just because I haven't gotten any gifts.
'I'm grateful that you're not like him; it would be a lot of one-sided conversations if that were the case.' Harry passed his hidden laugh off as a cough to avoid drawing attention to his growing smile. 'Still, I wish I could give you something that you'd like.'
And how do you know what I would like? Harry questioned her. For as often as they had talked, Harry didn't think that he had openly said he ever desired any material item. The idea of a friendship with Ymir was welcome, but had yet to fully grow to potential.
'Well…' she tried to think of something. 'I wouldn't. But, I'd get you something that you haven't even known you had wanted.' She finished sounding much more sure of herself, the manner she usually sounded. 'Just to be sure, you are eleven, right.' She didn't really sound like she was asking a question.
I am now, Harry replied. How about you? How old are you?
'I think you mean how young am I,' Ymir playfully corrected. 'It is rude to ask a lady her age, you know.'
Well if you're as young as me, you're a girl, not a lady. Harry waited to hear what she had to say to that.
'Fine! Have it your way.' She was probably pouting. 'And just so you know, I'm the same age as you.'
That's all I was asking, Harry relented.
'Sure,' she deflated her pride. 'Oh! I know!' she adopted a more jubilant tone as an idea must have come to her. 'How about an entire day with me? That'll be my gift to you.'
You mean, just talking? Harry felt the need to clarify. He didn't think she would take a plane or a boat from that island of hers just to come and see him.
'Of course. Why? Do you not like conversing with me?' She had cast her bait.
I do, but… an entire day? Don't you have other things to do during the day? There had always been periods where there was silence after some of the conversations they had. Harry had guessed that something had just come up on her end so to just put it on hold just to talk for him the rest of the day added to the mystery around this connection of theirs.
'Well sure I do,' she affirmed. 'But putting them on hold isn't the hardest thing to do. My lessons can always wait; history isn't going to change on its own.'
I guess, Harry didn't bother to argue with her on that. Are you still in school then? You at least get a summer holiday, don't you?
'Not exactly school. They're more like tutors. Besides, today's lesson was going to be a sadder one and I don't think they'll mind not having to tell it.'
If that's what you feel you want to do, she has clearly already made up her mind on the matter. What's a good thing to do today?
'Don't ask me,' she rejected his broad question. 'Today is supposed to be about you, isn't it? What would be something that you would want to do?'
That really wasn't a hard question to answer at all. Get out of here, for one.
'Why don't you?' she asked blissfully.
Harry could hear the telly blaring loudly from the living room signaling that Dudley was watching one of his favorite shows. But the moment it ended and he saw that Harry was no longer in the house, it wouldn't be long before he rounded up his friends for some hunting.
I'd rather not get chased down and end up in a fight today, Harry mused. Maybe if he wasn't so skinny he could put up a better fight when the need arises.
'Oh. I see.' It was clear to detect the disappointment in her tone, but it wasn't directed toward him.
Hearing her sound that way made him twistedly guilty. He was used to hearing her sound either, confident, curious, cheeky, or empathetic. This new tone didn't seem to fit her. And even if this new emotion wasn't brought about by him, it caused him to loathe being in this house for yet another reason. Now he had to find something to do today. That was why Harry felt quite relieved when he heard a knocking on the front door.
Knnnnk-knnnnk!
It was short, but it sure sounded gently loud. Whoever had done so must not have known their full strength. The sound instantly put the Dursley's on high alert.
"Not um, expecting anyone, are you, dear?" Uncle Vernon, with his cup of coffee frozen midway to his mouth, asked his wife.
She shook her bony head. "Maybe… one of Dudley's little friends?" she offered without much hope.
Dudley must have left his seat to peer out the window to whoever was on their doorstep. "Mom, Dad! It's some hairy guy. He looks huge. He's a freak!"
There was that word again. This time, his relatives reacted more with fear than the usual anger. Aunt Petunia was nervously biting a bony finger and Uncle Vernon's mouth became torn between gaping and being pursed, his mustache appeared to dance because of his indecision.
"You," he pointed a sausage finger at Harry. "Go and get the door. He's probably one of your lot."
Curious about this unexpected turn of events, Harry wordlessly acknowledged his relative and went to go and see who could be here this time. The answer was huge, just as Dudley had said.
The man at the threshold now was easily the largest person that Harry had ever seen in his life and was nearly three times as wide. Both his hair and beard were long and shaggy, giving him a very wild appearance. Given his size alone, Harry felt a hidden fear stir inside of him as he pictured himself being picked up to be brought toward a giant, gaping maw. It was the man's eyes that offset that impression. They were beetle black, but managed to shine with a warm kindness that was foreign in this household. The moment he saw Harry, his eyes brightened up even more.
"Hello there, Harry!" the giant man greeted in a joyous tone.
Harry still cautiously eyed the man. "You… know who I am?" he realized how stupid it must have sounded as soon as he asked. If he was as famous to wizards as McGonagall said, of course this man would know who he was.
"Well, o' course I do!" he chuckled deeply at that. "O' course I haven't seen you since you were a baby; you look to be coming' along jus' fine fer a young wizard in the making. Although, maybe a lil' extra meal a day would do some good, too."
Harry might have felt a tad hurt by those words, but when compared next to this man, anyone was bound to look small by comparison.
"I'm sorry, who are you?" Harry questioned him.
The man blinked in surprise. "Oh, right. I'm guessing ye wouldn't remember with how young you was. Right then, Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper o' Keys an' Game at Hogwarts. But you can jus' call me Hagrid, everyone does." He extended a dinner plate-sized hand out to Harry. "Great to see you again."
Not wanting to be rude, Harry put his hand out as well. "Um, yeah. You as well." He didn't risk having his hand crushed, so he shook Hagrid's index finger similar to how a toddler would do to a parent.
'He's got to be close to three meters, don't you think?' Ymir asked in awe of the giant of a man. Harry didn't offer a solid response to her on that one.
"If you don't mind me asking, Hagrid, what are you doing here?"
"Ain't it obvious?" Hagrid smiled widely past his dark beard. "I'm here to take you to get yer school supplies. Professor Dumbledore must've figured it'd be a good time on yer birthday an all. Not everyday a young man turns eleven now, is it? Oh that reminds me…" Hagrid reached into a pocket of his oversized overcoat and pulled out a wrapped gift and handed it to Harry to open. "I might've sat on it, but I baked it meself, words an all."
Pulling the cover off, Harry was met with looked to be a chocolate cake with pink frosting and green lettering that spelled out; Happee Birthdae Harry!
It was probably the poorest quality cake Harry had ever seen, and he had seen some of the cakes his aunt had given to Dudley, yet he still found himself saying, "Thank you." Hagrid looked happy that Harry had accepted the dessert.
"'Fraid I'm not too good at cooking anything that aren't rock cakes, but I hope yeh'll enjoy it. Anyway, you still got yer Hogwarts list?"
"Oh, yeah, it's upstairs. I'll just be a moment."
Taking the cake Hagrid made for him, Harry made his way back to his room where he had safely kept his letter. He didn't miss the hiding Dursley's from below as he climbed the stairs. Who knows, maybe they would start acting that way around him once he learned how to do a few tricks here and there.
Setting the cake on the desk while swapping it with his list of items, Harry hurriedly made his way back down the stairs to where the largest visitor Privet Drive had ever seen awaited him.
"All set an' ready?" Hagrid asked.
Harry nodded. "Just so I know, where exactly are we going to get all of this?"
"Why, London, o' course!" Hagrid cheerfully replied as he moved aside for Harry to exit, shutting the door behind them.
Harry knew London to be a very large city so he guessed that it wasn't exactly impossible to believe that. Maybe the store was disguised as a knock-off parlor trick store that only sold the real merchandise to actual wizards.
"How are we getting there?"
"Our rides right there," Hagrid pointed to the street where a motorcycle with an attached sidecar was parked. "Bit o' a tight fit for me, but I thought it'd make more sense to come with that."
One look back would reveal that the Dursleys were nervously peeking out past the closed curtains, dreading seeing that a motorcycle of all things had been parked in front of their quiet, normal home. Oh, the rumors that would surely start once the neighbors saw that metal monstrosity.
Harry cautiously stepped into the sidecar while Hagrid lumbered himself down to the driver's seat, the bike had to adjust to his weight. "Put yer seatbelt on now," Hagrid advised as he started the bike. "Has bit o' a kick to it she does."
Realizing that he had never seen Hagrid drive this thing put Harry more than a bit on edge once the bike started moving. As it turned out, the bike seemed rather seamless with its speed. Once Hagrid made the turn onto Magnolia Crescent, the sight of Privet Drive became all but lost to him as they rode off.
Actually, that seemed to be the case for many other neighboring streets. Once they passed by, they seemed to fade from sight far faster than they should. Once he and Hagrid hit the main traffic roads, Harry felt that they never really lingered at any of the lights either; they just kept on cruising and easily passing by the other ongoing traffic until it all became a blur behind them.
"Holding up aight, Harry?" Hagrid asked as they passed by yet another light with basic ease.
"Uh, yeah, I'm fine," Harry answered. "Hey, Hagrid?"
"Mm?"
"Just how fast are we going anyway?" if he was going shopping for magic supplies, it made sense that this was probably a magic bike. Maybe there was some kind of spell on it that made all the lights turn in their favor.
"As fast as we need it to," Hagrid replied cryptically as they sped through an intersection. "Had to ask Professor Dumbledore to fix 'er up in some places, but it runs faster than a thestral can fly."
Harry had no idea what that was, but he assumed that it was fast. With their speed, they had reached their destination in under fifteen minutes.
Hagrid parked the bike across the street from an abandoned and run-down little shop at the corner where the daily pedestrians barely paid any thought of mind. Harry unbuckled and climbed out of the sidecar, following Hagrid to where he had crossed the street to the abandoned place.
"Right then. Here we are, Harry," Hagrid smiled down at him. "Welcome to the Leaky Cauldron."
"So this is where I'll get my stuff?" Harry looked closer at the building in front of him. The sign that hung from above the door seemed to light up with his stare as an image of a brewing cauldron came into focus along with the name.
"Well, not in there exactly," Hagrid cleared up. "The Cauldron is a pub an' inn. We jus' gots to pass through is all." He pushed the door open. "Right through here." Hagrid held the door for him once he entered.
You've been quiet for a while, Harry spoke to Ymir before he moved.
'Oh, just taking everything in, you know. Just wondering what could be on the other side if you follow a man you've not known for even an hour. It took you much longer to start warming up to me, and I haven't forgotten that.'
Well if this is a trap of some kind, at least I can count on you to tell someone on Paradis to come mount a search and rescue, Harry joked with her - partly.
She replied very softly, 'I wish I could.'
The inside of the Cauldron was a vast deception to the seemingly barren front that it put up. There was a hub of activity going on around the decently packed pub; smoke from pipes drifted upwards, drinks floated by themselves over to tables where people wearing robes of various colors made toasts and laughed in merry amusement. It was a sight that was sure to give all three of his relatives a heart attack if they were to see it, so… Harry found himself starting to accept it.
"Hm. Didn't reckon it'd be this busy during the day." Hagrid looked at all the assembled patrons gathered around the tables. "But tha's not 'bout to stop us now, is it?" Hagrid gave him a small pat on the back. Of course, a small pat from someone like Hagrid nearly sent him falling to the floor before Hagrid caught him. "Sorry 'bout that. Jus' don't know me own strength sometimes."
"No kidding." 'No kidding.'
Maneuvering through the crowd of witches and wizards proved to be quite easy so long as he stayed behind Hagrid and let pave the way for him. Nearing the bar, the bartender sent a wave in their direction.
"Ah, Hagrid! The usual, I presume?" the bartender seemed ready to bust out a bottle and glass.
"Sorry, not today, Tom," Hagrid denied the offer. "I'm here on official Hogwarts business. Lots ter buy with young Harry 'ere."
The bartender, Tom, smiled down at him. That smile quickly changed into a look of astonished bewilderment as his eyes went up to his forehead. "Bless my soul - that's Harry Potter!"
And with that, all lively chatter and excitement was put on hold. All the faces in the pub were turning to look over at him, most of which held the same expression as the bartender.
'What is happening?' Ymir asked, sounding confusingly worried.
I don't know, but when McGonagall said I was famous, I didn't think people would react like this.
One of the patrons hurried over to where Harry was and eagerly shook his hand. "Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, I can't believe I'm meeting you at last!"
"...Okay," Harry lamely offered, something which Doris Crockford didn't seem to mind at all. And that was the floodgate opening up.
Every witch and wizard from the other tables eagerly began anticipating getting to shake the hand of Harry Potter. Their words all seemed to blend together, but the general phrases which were the easiest to comprehend were along the lines of, "Meeting you-," "Can't believe-," "Such an honor-,"
His responses, which were quite short, did not seem to discourage their enthusiasm. "Er-," "Um-," "Ah-," "Can I get by, please?" "Can I please get by?!" After saying that last one three times, Harry felt growing frustration with the crowd.
"'Aight, tha's enough, you lot." Hagrid must have grown restless as well. "Go on, clear the way. Get back to yer drinks."
Clearly not wanting to anger someone of Hagrid's size, the crowd began to part. A wizard who had already shaken Harry's hand twice already came back for a final third, but Harry made a point to avoid him and stay close to Hagrid's side. Nearing the end of the bar, a younger man with a purple turban timidly stepped forward.
"H-Harry P-P-Potter," he greeted with a stutter.
'This guy can't even talk to you properly.'
"Oh, 'ello, Professor, I didn't see you there," Hagrid warmly greeted the nervous-looking man. "Harry, this is Professor Quirrell," he introduced. "He's new this year."
Feeling a bit more at ease, Harry said, "Well, it's nice to meet you. What will you be teaching?"
"D-defense Against the D-dark A-arts," Quirrell stuttered out. "Not t-that you n-need it, e-eh, Potter." He finished with a small, nervous laugh.
Hagrid cleared his throat. "Right. Well you take care now, Professor. Be seeing you 'round Hogwarts."
Leading him past Professor Quirrell, Hagrid opened a door to a narrow alley where it ended at a brick wall dead-end.
"Sorry 'bout that, Harry," Hagrid apologized after shutting the door behind him. "Didn't think it'd be that busy."
"I guess not," Harry lightly grumbled, thankful to be away from that crowd of wizards. "You know, when McGonagall told me I was famous, a part of me was hoping that she might have overexaggerated."
"'Fraid not, Harry," Hagrid shook his head. "I reckon there's not a witch o' wizard who don't know your name." Well that made him feel loads better
"So… does that mean that even some of the kids I'll be going to school with know all about me?" he suspected, but he still had some sliver of hope.
"I'd reckon so," Hagrid confirmed.
"Oh. I see." If that little encounter in the pub was anything to go by, would that be how he would be treated in school?
"Don't be feeling bad, Harry," Hagrid tried to console him. "Not liking yer fame jus' shows yeh've got a good head on your shoulders. 'Sides, chances are some muggle-born students might not know too much about yeh."
"What's a muggle?" Harry asked.
"Mundane folk," Hagrid explained. "People, like yer relatives. 'Course, then there are half-bloods, wizards with mixed blood and then there's what you'd call pure-bloods. They've got nothin' but magic in their family." He pulled out a pink umbrella from the inside of his coat. "But ne'ermind all tha' right now. I'm not really fit to be talking about what blood someone's got." He tapped a series of bricks with his umbrella and the wall began to open up to reveal a whole other street.
"Welcome to Diagon Alley."
The street was abuzz with crowds of wizards coming and going in and out of shops of every assortment. An ice cream vendor sold just about every flavor imaginable, and then some that could never have been sold in any regular store. Hoots and calls from exotic animals carried out from another, another had different color smokes drifting out from the open windows; there was one that seemed of great interest to many kids around his age with a broom sign above their window. Every shop was it's own and made sure that everyone passing by knew it.
Harry found himself being thankful for a large amount of traffic around them. It meant that other people were minding their own business and not looking his way. Of course, Hagrid did garner a few stares given his height, but no one paid much attention to the small boy walking alongside the giant man. He didn't want to imagine what kind of a scene it would cause here if the pub was any indication.
While they walked, Harry took the time to fully read over the list of required materials. All students were required to have three sets of black robes, a pointed hat, protective gloves, and one winter cloak. Books ranged from titles such as The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, A History of Magic, A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, and Magical Drafts and Potions just to name a few.
Then there was the additional equipment such as a wand, cauldron, vials, telescope, scales, and the option of bringing an owl, cat or toad. Harry entertained the thought of maybe having an animal. Aunt Petunia would never allow a cat due to "allergies" and would forbid a toad from ever crossing the doorstep. Maybe if he had a cage for an owl…
"Where are we going first, Hagrid?" Harry asked.
"Well yeh'll be needing money, right?" Hagrid pointed to a very large and impressive marble building nearing a juncture in the alley. "There's your money right there. Gringotts Bank. Ain't no place safer, 'cept maybe Hogwarts."
'Oh yeah, she mentioned before that you had an account,' Ymir recalled.
Right. Well now if I ever need to take out money I'll know where to… "Hey, Hagrid," Harry said.
"Yeah?"
"I've never been to a bank before, but I'm pretty sure that I need some kind of card or something, don't I?"
"Ah, right." Hagrid fished around in the pocket of his coat and pulled out a key. "'Ere's the lil' devil." He handed it to Harry.
"What's this?"
"The key to yer vault," Hagrid answered. "Professor Dumbledore wanted it kept nice an' safe until you were ready ter visit."
"Well that was… nice of him," Harry said while examining the key. Having this was sure better than just having to say his name - or show his scar.
Approaching the bank, Harry was able to get a good look at the two guards stationed outside the entrance. They were actually shorter than him but still dressed in what seemed to be medieval knights armor with battle axes as tall as a full-grown human. For as short as they were, they seemed dead serious about protecting this bank.
"Psst," Harry tried to whisper to Hagrid. "What are they?"
"Goblins, Harry," Hagrid whispered back, far more loud than he thought. "Clever as they come, goblins are. Best not do or say nothin' tha' might make 'em angry; pretty prideful, ya see."
Taking Hagrid's advice proved to be more difficult once they entered the bank and Harry was able to see goblins going and working about. Some were bald, others did have flaxen or wilder hair, but their pointed ears were always on alert display. While their noses did vary from stubby, many had a more slim and pointed look about them. But the traits that they all had in common were the clawed hands, toothy snarls, and dark, beady eyes.
The more he looked, the more he began to wonder, "what if they were bigger?"
He could not help the growing sight of familiarity as he envisioned a goblin maybe 4 or 6 meters in height with their toothy maw, clawed hands, and beady eyes being able to easily maneuver through a forest of trees. Or maybe there would be a blonde one somewhere that could bite a railroad track right off the foundation. And with their almost beak-shaped noses, a more avian style one to resemble a bird of prey.
'I don't think staring at them counts as not making them angry,' Ymir advised.
Harry saw that his continuous stares had caused some nearby goblins to snarl in his direction - or snarl more than quickly averted his gaze.
Sorry. I guess I was just… lost in thought.
'...Hm.'
Making their way past the rows of desks with hard-working goblins, Harry saw that Hagrid was taking him to the largest desk in back where a goblin was signing papers with a quill. The small creature did not bother to look up, even if he knew they were there.
"Mm-hmm," Hagrid cleared his throat.
The goblin looked up with disinterest. "Yes?"
"'Ello," Hagrid greeted. "Mr. Harry Potter here is looking to make a withdrawal."
The goblin sneered as he gripped the edge of his desk with a clawed hand to gaze beadily down at Harry. "And does Mr. Harry Potter have his key?"
Harry presented the key Hagrid had given him. "Here." The goblin didn't look at him as some kind of celebrity, but that didn't mean Harry liked the look he was getting right now either.
Taking the key from him, the goblin examined it closely, checking for any flaws that it might have before handing it back to Harry. "I'll send for Griphook. He will escort you to the vault."
"Oh! There's one more thing," Hagrid pulled out an envelope for the goblin. "It's 'bout you-know-what in vault you-know-which."
'That sounds…'
Suspicious?
'Not very subtle, but that works, too.'
"Very well," the goblin said, sounding a little more professional after reading whatever the letter contained. "Wait over there for a moment. Griphook will be by shortly."
They sat over at a waiting bench (although Hagrid took up most of the space, and Harry was glad that he was skinny enough to squeeze in at the end. While they waited, Harry decided to ask a question that hadn't occurred to him until recently.
"So, Hagrid, does anybody need a spare of my vault key, because I'm keeping this one."
'That was rather straightforward.'
Well, it is my key, isn't it?
'I'm not arguing, I was just saying.'
"Shouldn't 'ave to," Hagrid replied. "Professor Dumbledore only kept that 'cus yeh weren't ready ter come ter Gringotts. Would've been unwise ter leave a baby with a key he can't use."
"Yeah, I guess you got a point there," Harry admitted. At least he had it now, that counted for something.
When Griphook came around to collect them, Harry noted that he shared the same traits as many of the other goblins at the desks. "This way," he spoke with contempt curtness, leading them over to where a minecart of sorts was stationed away from the work area. It had to be expanded to accommodate for Hagrid, but once they were all in Griphook ordered, "Keep your hands in until we've come to a stop."
Harry thought it almost sounded like a ride at some amusement park (not that he had ever been), but he thought that was a common thing that someone working there might say. His suspicion was closely proven right as the wall in front of them opened up and a track descending down became visible once their cart began to move.
The light attached to the front of the cart illuminated the darkness of the underground cavern that they rode along inside at surprisingly fast speeds. For Harry, he absolutely relished the sensation of almost flying through the air; the feeling of the cool cavern air whipping across his face made a smile stretch across his face, it made him feel that one of his dreams had just become a real experience.
"This is pretty amazing, Hagrid!" Harry had to yell so his voice could be heard.
"Aight. If yeh say so." Hagrid appeared a little nauseous as they made a sharp turn, and appeared to be trying to focus on something stable.
Harry turned away from him, not wanting to be facing him if Hagrid were to become ill. He went back to observing the surrounding cavern. If this cavern were instead made out of some crystalline substance, Harry felt it would have seemed more fitting. He could almost picture those glowing, smooth pillars to support the ceiling. The ledge which jutted out to make an altar of sorts.
They made a sudden dive down and Harry felt his vision blur.
The feeling of the chains around his wrist brought an icy hot feeling to his flesh. Just below the altar, a person looked up at him before a sudden flash and steam engulfed their body and something impossibly large was rising up to take their place.
The view had changed, he was looking at a man with glasses with a look of desperation on his face as he held a scalpel over his palm. He blinked and he was now from that man's perspective looking over to a family dressed in white robes.
The voice spoke next to him. Somebody else was right next to him - somebody who shouldn't have been. "What are you doing? Stand. Did you forget why you came here?"
Forget… here…?
Everything seemed so…
'I think you're here.' Ymir's voice had awoken him.
His vision cleared to show that their cart had indeed come to a stop outside near a large, imposing metal door. Hagrid followed after Griphook, passing him the lamp from the front of the cart.
"Vault 687," Grriphook declared. "Key please."
"Oh, right here," Harry climbed out, offering the key to the goblin.
Accepting the key, Griphook slid open a secret latch and twisted the key inside of it. There was an audible grinding of metal as the door opened itself. The sight that greeted Harry on the other side was not something he was prepared for.
The relative dimness of the outside cavern faded from sight as the shimmering sight of gold, silver, and bronze (but mostly gold) illuminated the vault. Harry didn't know how much exactly was down here, but he knew it was a small fortune, enough to put Uncle Vernon's salary to shame a few times over.
"This is all… for me?" If his tuition wasn't already paid for, this seemed more than enough to cover the costs.
"Yeh didn't think yer parents would leave with nothin' did ya?" Hagrid asked with a twinkle in his black eyes.
'My… you're certainly well off,' Ymir remarked to him. 'I guess that this earns you an elite title as well.'
I-I didn't know there was this much! Harry felt the need to defend his image. This doesn't make a difference to me, really. I'm not about to change who I am because of this, I swear!
He didn't want her feeling inadequate knowing that he had a small fortune stashed away someplace. And he also didn't want her to think highly of him either. Ymir didn't strike him as the type to make connections based on wealth since she had just wanted to talk to him before, but Harry couldn't help but fear what might develop because of this.
'Kufufu! You don't need to sound all nervous. I don't care about money, and I can tell you don't either. Besides, I'm not exactly what you'd call poor, if that makes you feel any better.'
Wait a minute. You're rich?
'Just me or where I come from?'
You mean to tell me I've been talking to a rich girl this entire time?
'I told you, money doesn't matter to me. And even if it did, you clearly have enough to your name to earn a place amongst Paradisean aristocracy. Not that it matters.' She quickly added that last bit. 'So, just do me a favor and keep talking to me how you've been doing, don't go and make it weird.'
Uh, sure, no problem.
While it still might have been a bit early to fully come to grips with it, he knew he didn't want to jeopardize his currently only friendship - if Ymir could be called a friend. He was probably stupid for doubting that, but having never actually seen or spoken to her face-to-face, he didn't know if that constituted or not. He would like it to.
When Griphook provided him with a leather pouch for the withdrawal, Harry tried to be frugal with what he was taking. Even if Ymir didn't care about money, she still knew about it and he wanted to have somewhat of an idea of what he should take out. Luckily Griphook did offer some sort of explanation of the currency.
The coppery bronze ones were knuts, the silvers were sickles, and the gold were galleons. Apparently, there were 17 sickles to a galleon and 29 knuts to a sickle. Being decent enough at math, Harry knew that it would take a few hundred knuts to be worth just one piece of the many gold ones he had in this vault.
"How much do supplies usually cost, Hagrid?" Harry wanted to know.
"Nothin' too high," Hagrid thought it over. "Have ter have it so muggle-born kids can buy em, too. Here." Hagrid helped him pick the appropriate amount of currency, with a little extra for when he had to board the train in September. He even took a little more than that for food and maybe even for some clothes that actually fit him. It was a good thing that pouch seemed able to expand inward to accommodate for any amount to be withdrawn.
"Where to next?" Harry asked, pocketing the pouch as he didn't want it to fly from his grip once they started again on the cart.
"One more vault," Hagrid didn't sound thrilled at that. "Hogwarts business, yeh see."
Climbing back in the cart, the trio descended further down the cavern at an even greater speed. Making a turn, Harry thought that he heard a roar from somewhere followed by a quick flash of orange and red. Was there actually a dragon down here?
They came to a stop once more. "Vault 713, maximum security" Griphook announced as they climbed out.
Griphook traced his finger along the door as a faint blue line followed his movement. The door began to open and Griphook had them take a step back. Once it was safe, Hagrid took the lead inside while Harry watched from behind. Being maximum security, Harry expected to see a vault even more generous than his own, filled to the brim with ancient treasures from around the globe.
What laid inside was a single object the size of a stone wrapped up neatly.
Hagrid gently picked it up and tucked it away in one of the many pockets of his coat, patting it to make sure that it was secure.
"Best ter jus' keep this a secret," Hagrid whispered to him. "Top secret, yeh know."
Not even knowing what it was, Harry nodded. "Yeah. I won't say anything."
'I will.'
Oh, you know what it is?
'No. But if I did, you'd be the first to know.'
Getting back in the cart, the door to Vault 713 shut behind them leaving an empty room of unknown secrets.
Following another high-speed ride back to the surface, Harry and a nauseous Hagrid left Gringotts behind to continue on with their shopping. Harry knew where he wanted to stop first and that would be to get a wand of his own.
"Say, Hagrid."
"Mmhh."
"I was thinking, where is the best place to get a wand?"
"Why, yeh'll be wanting Olivander's. Ain't no place better. Got me own want from there years back. 'Course, I'm not really supposed ter use it."
"What happened?" Harry asked.
"Er… got expelled in me third year an' since the Ministry don't want anyone using magic outside school, Dumbledore got me to work as the gamekeeper."
"There's a whole ministry, too?"
"O' course there is. Who d'ya think makes the laws?"
'This really is a whole little hidden world. I guess that's something Paradis has in common.'
What? You have some sort of hidden society, too? She didn't talk much of her home, so when she did Harry was always ready to hear what she had to say.
'I just mean that Paradis was very cut off and hidden for a long time. It really wasn't until a few years before I was born did the island start to get more attention. I'll tell you more later, you're here for a reason.'
"Alright," Harry brought his focus back to the hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley. "Where is Olivander's?"
"Right this way." Hagrid used his size to his advantage once again to clear a way to their left, continuing on until they came to a much older looking shop with a wand sign hanging above the door.
The bell chimed as they walked in and Harry was able to see the rows and rows of shelves that lined the interior of the shop. There didn't appear to be anyone at the counter, however.
Harry peered over. "Hello, is any-,"
Appearing quite suddenly from behind one of the rows of shelves was an older man with wild white hair and large, pale eyes. The sudden appearance caused Hagrid to accidentally stumble and break one of the visitor chairs, startling Harry as well.
"Sorry 'bout that, Mr. Olivander, sir," Hagrid apologized. "Gave us bit o' a fright."
Olivander smiled knowingly. "Bit of a habit of mine. It gives me something to look forward to when a new visitor comes by." Olivander pulled his own wand and with a silent wave repaired the seat that Hagrid had crushed. His attention then moved over to Harry. "I've been wondering when I'd be seeing you in my shop, Mr. Potter."
He was about to ask how Olivander knew who he was but realized how obvious the answer would have been. Instead, he asked, "You knew I'd be coming here?"
"I would have been disappointed if you didn't," Olivander said as he moved down an aisle in the front to sort through the boxes. "It seems like only yesterday your mother and father were in here buying their first wands."
'He must have a loose concept of time then,' Ymir said, sounding a little irked. Harry figured she had jumped when Olivander made himself known as well and was far too proud to admit to it.
Olivander fished through some boxes, pulling one out. "Yes, your father's wand was quite suited for transfiguration while your mother was more partial for charmwork. Here we are!" He scurried over to where Harry waited and opened the box to present him with a wand. "Let's see how you are with this one."
Taking the offered wand, Harry held it rather awkwardly, not really sure what to do with it. He knows that I don't know any spells, right?
'I think he wants you to do something. It's a wand. Try giving it a wave.'
Taking Ymir's advice, Harry raised the wand above his head, but before he could bring it down, Olivander was stopping him. "No! No! I don't think that would be a proper match." He put the wand back in the box and hurried to go and fetch another.
The second result was the same as the first. And so was the third, and the forth, and just about every other that followed.
He's only having me do this as some sort of joke, right? Harry's patience was running thin, but Olivander must have paid it no mind as he still had an excited look on his face as he kept getting more boxes for Harry.
'Maybe threaten to take your business elsewhere, that usually gets a reaction from merchants, or so I've been told.'
This continued on to the point Harry felt he was going to have to try every single wand in the shop - and there were hundreds of those boxes. Olivander pulled out yet another but wore a contemplative expression on his face.
"I wonder," he mused, bringing the box over. "Try this one. Holly wood with phoenix tail feather as the core, 11 inches."
Ready to face disappointment once again, Harry picked up the wand. The moment his fingers wrapped around the wand he felt a surge of energy rush along his body making his hairs stand on end. When he waved his arm, a small, golden flame traced his every movement. Hagrid clapped in approval.
"Well, I do believe you have found your wand, Mr. Potter," Olivander even sounded a bit relieved. "And such a curious one at that."
"Sorry, but what's curious?" Harry hoped this wand didn't have a cursed history.
Olivander stared at him with those pale eyes. "I remember every wand I've ever sold, Mr. Potter, you see, the wand chooses the wizard. The phoenix, whose tail feather resides in that wand gave another feather, just one. It is curious that this wand should choose you when its brother gave you that scar."
Harry looked at the holly wand that he held, feeling unsure about it now if what Olivander said was true.
"And, you think this is the wand for me?" Harry was sort of hoping there would be a mistake.
"The wand has never reacted to anyone else in the same manner. I firmly believe that it has made up its mind."
"But, if the wand chooses the wizard, what if the wizard doesn't choose the wand?" Harry questioned the wandmaker. "I do want a wand and all, I'm just not sure about having the one that's related to the one that tried to kill me."
Olivander did seem to consider his words. "I can understand your logic in that, Mr. Potter. You're free to search the shelves yourself for one that strikes your fancy, but I do stand by that this wand has already decided."
Almost feeling the need to prove him wrong, Harry walked along the lines of shelves, not really sure where to actually begin. He ran his hand along some of the wand cases, hoping that he might feel something akin to what he felt when he held the holly and phoenix wand. The only thing he felt was the nonexistent feeling of rejection the moment he thought of trying another one out.
That feeling persisted until Harry came across a web-covered shelf near the back of the shop. It was obvious that the wands on this shelf were much older than some of the other ones that he had tried earlier. His hand reached out, looking, hoping that he might feel a surge of power that he had felt from the phoenix wand.
He felt none of it.
What he did feel was a sort of tingling sensation running down along his spine - a pulse almost that could make his heart skip a beat. There was such a dangerously familiar foreign concept about it that Harry closed his hand around the box.
"What is this wand?" Harry called Olivander over once he pulled it out.
Olivander's pale eyes looked the wand up and down and a knowing look crossed his face. "Ah, that one. That wand has been in this shop since even before my grandfather. I daresay that it might have even been one of the first we carried." The almost dead appearance of the wand seemed to agree. "Petrified yew wood, thirteen inches with jotun hair for a core. Particularly good for transfiguration and curses."
"I like it," Harry said, giving a small wave of the wand. No golden flames trailed from the end, nothing happened with it. It just felt right to hold it.
"You'd be the first to say so," Olivander commented. "People who have held that wand before have described feeling quite odd. I thought it to be unsellable."
"But it is for sale though, isn't it?"
"Every wand is," Olivander didn't deny. "Of course, I still believe the phoenix wand to have made its choice, and it seems you have made yours. Hm. If you'd like, I could sell both wands to you."
"Really? Are wizards allowed to have two?"
'Hey, don't go saying anything that might rob you of a discount,' Ymir advised.
"It isn't exactly common," Olivander admitted, "but that doesn't mean that it is unheard of. Some wizards of pureblood status have made the additional purchase before, and without giving away the customer's names, one man has a second wand tucked away in his cane. It might be a bit impractical for a first-year student, but so long as you only use one for class, I don't see there being too much of a problem."
Thinking that sounded fair enough, Harry made the purchase of both wands, having to pay a little bit more making him glad that he had taken more out from his vault earlier. He thanked Olivander for allowing the purchase for both wands and he and Hagrid found themselves back out on the street once again.
"Where to next, Hagrid?" Harry asked, having accomplished his main goal.
"Yeh'll be wanting yer robes next, right?" Hagrid suggested. He pointed over to a shop that read: Madam Malkin's. "Tell yeh what, how's 'bout you go get fitted for robes an' I'll go get yeh're books; save us the time."
Seeing Hagrid's logic, Harry allowed him to take the required amount of money before taking the rest with him. Before entering, Harry played with the front bangs of his messy hair, moving them as best he could to properly hide the scar on his forehead. He didn't know how crowded it would be inside, and he didn't want to get swarmed again.
The bell chimed as he opened the door and into the shop. The woman at the counter smiled as he came in.
"Hello," she politely greeted. "You're a Hogwarts student, I take it?"
"Uh, yeah, I will be," Harry answered. It looked like he was in the clear so far.
"Come on over to the next room for your measurements, dear. We've only got one other, another Hogwarts student."
'Looks like you'll be able to meet another kid like you for the first time,' she sounded excited for him.
I talk to you, don't I?
'That's different, you haven't met me yet.'
Yet.
Not dwelling too much on that hope, Harry followed her to the fitting room where there was a boy his age with platinum blond hair and grey eyes on a stand. Seeing him enter, the boy seemed to give him a look. It was a dirty or distrustful look, it seemed more curious than anything.
"Hello," he greeted. "Hogwarts, too?"
"Yeah," Harry greeted back. "Another first-year."
The boy gave a smile that leaned more to the cocky side reminding him almost of Dudley. "Do you play Quidditch, you look like a fair flier."
He had no idea what that word meant, so he just said, "No, I've never flown before, but I'd like to."
The boy nodded. "I think it's completely unfair that first-years aren't allowed brooms. I could probably talk to my father to tell the school governors; they could overturn that rule."
Harry nodded in uncertainty. "I'd imagine they could." In his head he thought, This kid seems like a spoiled brat.
'Come on, that's unfair, you just met him,' Ymir chided. 'Maybe bragging is just how he handles being nervous. Just give him a chance.'
Give him a chance for me, or for you? Harry teased her.
'For- hey!'
"Have you given much thought to what house you'll be in?" the boy asked. "I'm hoping for Slytherin, my father's old house. My family has been sorted there for generations, see."
"Oh, that's good," Harry tried to sound a little enthused. "I haven't really thought about it myself though."
The other boy didn't seem to pick up the lack of enthusiasm. "Although Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad, I suppose. But I'd disown myself if I was put into Hufflepuff with that lot of duffers, much less Gryffindor. Your parents went to Hogwarts too, didn't they? What house were they in?"
"They died when I was a baby. I never knew them."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
He doesn't sound like he is.
'Maybe he's putting two and two together of who you are,' Ymir offered. 'You could have lied better.'
"They were both wizards though, weren't they?" he asked.
"Yes, they both had magic from what I've been told."
"Good." He looked around before lowering his voice so the shop owner finishing with the robes didn't hear. "With how Hogwarts has been going downhill, they'll let just about anyone in these days, so my father says. Best keep education to those who actually deserve it, don't you agree?"
'Nevermind, forget what I said.'
But, Ymir, maybe he just doesn't know how to make friends the right way, Harry rephased her earlier statement.
'Yeah, well… I was wrong, wasn't I?!' she sounded very agitated by that. 'No need to rub it in.'
"Well…" what could he ever say to that?
The boy noticed his hesitation. "What? You're not someone who loves muggles, are you?" he fixed Harry with a pointed stare.
"...Not exactly," Harry finally settled on. "I mean, the only muggles I know are the family that took me in and they're all idiots." The boy seemed pleased to hear that answer. "I guess I just relate to someone finding out they have magic for the first time. But if they turn out like the muggle family I know, I wouldn't want anything to do with them. Still, they have to learn how to use the magic they have somehow, don't they?"
The boy seemed to actually ponder that. "That's a… fair point - I guess," he muttered the last very softly. "Maybe if I talk to my father, he can see if he can push for a separate school system to be established."
'Can you plug your ears with something? I'm getting tired of listening to this kid.' She sounded more peeved than Harry had ever heard from her. A small spark that would grow to a blazing inferno in seconds.
"Say, what's your name?" the boy just now decided to ask him.
Harry was prepared to give him a fake name, but the tailor returned with a set of robes.
"Here you are, dear, come on up to the front and I'll have these bagged for you."
"Oh, alright, thank you," Harry felt relief to no longer be around the other boy. "I'll uh, see you in school then." He offered as a flimsy goodbye as he went to go and pay for his set of robes.
Hagrid was waiting for him outside Madam Malkin's with a cauldron filled with books and scales, but that wasn't what had Harry's attention. There was a cage holding a beautiful snowy-white owl that observed him with its large, amber eyes.
"Wh-what is this?" Harry seemed in disbelief.
"It's yeh're birthday, ain't it?" Hagrid rhetorically asked. "Happy birthday! Jus' in case you don't like the cake."
Needless to say, Harry offered no complaint. He would have to think of a name for the owl now. The name Kruger came to mind that seemed fitting, but he would still think that one over.
Afterward, the two of them grabbed some ice cream from a local vendor before Hagrid would take him back to Privet Drive.
'Looks good,' he could imagine her drooling. 'How's it taste?'
You have a sweet tooth?
'Just so you know some food others take for granted are considered a foreign luxury on Paradis. The people of my island never even had it until about... oh, eleven or ten years ago or so.'
Seriously? I thought that you were… well, you have money, don't you?
'For what it's worth, yes. But as I said, Paradis is pretty cut off from the rest of the world, and those that do know weren't exactly willing to trade.'
Why?
'...' She was silent. 'People are just petty. Just like that boy back in the shop, so eager to judge and look down on someone because of their birth. They don't realize that they're no better.'
Now Harry felt himself being silent. That wasn't what I was expecting this to lead to when talking about ice cream.
'Sorry,' she apologized. 'But the people of Paradis were heavily discriminated against by other countries for the actions of the past thousands of years ago. It hardly matters anymore. It's my job to live my life free of all of that.'
That must be nice - living your life, not the other thing.
"Yeh Hear me, Harry?" Hagrid's voice boomed next to him.
"Wh- hm?" Harry sputtered.
"I asked if yeh're ready for when yeh go to Hogwarts," Hagrid repeated.
"I suppose so," Harry admitted. "I was told how to get onto the train, but there was a boy in that shop talking about sorting and houses. I don't really know how that happens."
Hagrid nodded. "I'd tell yeh, but tradition an' all that. 'Snothing horrible, houses don' really mean tha' much. Jus' be mindful o' some o' them Slytherin's."
"What's so bad about them?" he knew that boy was hoping to get into that house, but there were bound to be some who didn't act like him.
"Lot o' them come from some dark families - families that were big into You-Know-Who an' his crowd. There's not a witch o' wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin."
'...' He could almost feel Ymir's sigh. First that kid and now Hagrid.
"That can't be true for everyone, can it?" Harry asked. "Just because their families might have done bad things doesn't mean they're going to. They can't be the only house to have turned out a bad egg."
"Well… there are some half-decent ones, I guess," Hagrid thought. "Professor Snape, yeh'll meet him, not much o' a people person, but Dumbledore trusts him. An' - oh, right, there was Sirius Black. He was a Gryffindor, his bike was our ride here, turned out ter be a snake the whole time."
"What did he do?"
"He was a You-Know-Who mole. After you beat 'em, Black goes mad and blows up half a street with one curse, kills one of his best friends with it an' a bunch o' muggles. He's rottin' away in Azkaban Prison fer life."
"Sounds like he got what he deserved," Harry felt his point was being proven.
"Right. 'Course, it don't help that the rest o' his family was Slytherin."
'Well that's just sorting through hay,' Ymir didn't sound convinced of that part and Harry was inclined to agree.
"But don't let that go an' bother yeh," Hagrid said. "Jus' focus on doing good in class an' makin' some friends no matter what house yeh're in. If yeh're in Slytherin, maybe yeh can show 'em not all snakes are bad."
They finished up their frozen treats leaving Harry with a bugging feeling at the back of his mind that had nothing to do with Ymir. He was excited to be going to a place where there were other people like him, so different from what he had known.
So why did it feel that certain aspects were going to be the same no matter what?
While Hagrid and Harry were out acquiring the required school supplies, a green fire had roared to life in the home of Privet Drive's Arabella Figg.
Stepping out of the emerald flame was the Headmaster of Hogwarts stepped out to the litter of cats that were lounging around, as well as the current resident.
"Dumbledore?" Arabella asked as another few cats trailed behind her. "What's this all about?"
"I apologize for the sudden intrusion, but I simply had need of your floo. My business lies just across the street."
"Hm? Oh, yes! The Potter boy. Have you come to take him to school?"
"That isn't until September, Arabella, dear." Perhaps Minerva was right, maybe she wasn't fully aware of things. "I am here to ensure some magical protections are still being kept in place. How was young Harry the last you saw him?"
"Oh he was very helpful," she answered. "Helped me feed and clean up after my cats; a bit of a quiet boy, but what child isn't at that age?"
"How did he look?"
"Thin with dark hair and green eyes, the same as always."
That wasn't exactly what he had been asking. "Very well. If you'll excuse me."
Leaving her house, he quickly cast a powerful notice-me-not charm on himself. Any neighbors who were walking by or looking out their windows would see a homeless old man wandering about and they would avoid the sight of him instantly.
He stopped just in front of the well-kept lawn of number 4 and reached out with his wand to test the magical a wizard of his age and power, even he was surprised by how quickly the protections had begun to deteriorate.
One of the protections had been designed by himself to last until Harry came of age at seventeen, or until he could no longer call this house home. Combined with what Minerva had told him earlier about his previous living conditions, it did not seem too surprising that Harry would feel unwelcome in their house.
Dumbledore sighed in realization.
It had been a grave mistake to put as much faith as he did in Petunia Dursley. He had assumed that being Lily's sister, she would have the capacity to care for a child that was not her own. Lily had nothing but unconditional love when it came to caring for a child, that he knew from multiple instances and it was certainly why he believed this to be the safest place for Harry due to the sister's blood relation, but clearly lacking due to Harry's specific conditions - ones he had assumed magic would have taken into consideration.
Not able to fix the past, he could at least try to ease the future.
With his magic, Dumbledore put up a few compulsion wards to affect the family inside. While this would not make them love or even show true kindness towards Harry, they would be dealt an urge to be less neglectful than they clearly had been.
There was next to nothing he could do when it came to the blood ward. Lily was gone and Petunia was keen to renounce her sister in the family line. However weak the enchantment was, it would have to stand. Knowing the past of Harry as he did, that Voldemort might truly still be alive, he hoped it would be enough.
A/N: Thank you for reading. Next chapter, with his newly purchased supplies, the journey to Hogwarts awaits as Harry meets new faces. Chapter 4: Arrival.