YOU'RE WELCOME
In this world there is always danger for those who are afraid of it...
George Bernard Shaw
The dingy bar was dark, dirty and filled with smoke. The small round wooden tables were full of customers despite it being early in the evening. Most of the people in the small cramped establishment were wearing hooded cloaks, their faces hidden in shadow. Hushed conversation filled the air, murmurs that carried no meaning to any would be eavesdropper.
Isaac scrunched up his nose in disgust – one customer had ordered some heavily undercooked meat and proceeded to devour it, throwing pieces of slimy flesh this way and that. He hated hags - they smelt awful.
"You really should try not to judge so much. We all have our needs." Caleb reprimanded lightly, his eyes flicking back and forth across the room.
Isaac made a noise at the back of his throat but made no further comment. Instead he watched as a barmaid; young, pretty and with a flirtatious smile, came and placed two glasses onto their table. She gave a little wink to Isaac before leaving.
He stared after her, watching the sway of her hips. His tongue flicked out, teasing over his exposed sharp canine. With a bit of effort, he dragged his eyes away from her delectable rear. Caleb having noticed his gaze, gave him an amused smile from behind his glass.
"Needs I understand." Isaac held his glass up, swirling it slightly. He watched, fascinated as the crimson liquid swirled and churned inside.
Feeling his throat burn with need, he took a large sip, his lips staining red. It tasted coppery and strong, he felt the muscles in his neck unclench. An involuntary sigh escaped him. He glanced at the hag a few tables away – she was licking her fingers, uncaring of the mottled skin or long nails.
"Still…" he shuddered and turned away from the disgusting sight.
"Fret not then dear boy, our guest it seems has arrived." Caleb gestured towards the door on the far side of the establishment.
A small figure had entered, covered in a cloak like most of the other guests. Nobody paid any attention as the figure made their way to their table. With a small grunt the small figured hoisted themselves up the stool and sat. A careless shrug saw the hood fall away to reveal his face.
The goblin smiled, sharp teeth glinting even in the poor light. His skin looked like leather and his domed head had tufts of dark grey hair growing at the sides. A slight goatee jutted out of his pointed chin. All in all, Isaac thought he looked positively impish. He was quite small even by goblin standards. But one look into his dark beady eyes told Isaac he was dangerous.
"Caleb, long time no see. I hope you are well?" his voice was surprisingly soft, almost pleasant. Isaac was not fooled by such a thin veneer.
"I am quite well, Silvertooth." Caleb nodded to Isaac. "You remember my young associate."
"Well met Isaac." The goblin said smoothly, his teeth flashing.
"Silvertooth." Isaac nodded, keeping his distaste to himself.
Caleb pulled out a dark opaque crystal, cut with so many sides. He placed it at the exact center of the table and muttered a few words under his breath. The crystal pulsed red, sending out a near invisible pulse of energy. The sounds from around them grew muted. Caleb let out a pleased hum. Isaac silently agreed with his mentor. Even with the many privacy wards that had been cast in the room, to their sharp senses it had been hard not to get a headache.
"Straight to business I see." The goblin brought his hands together, drawing attention to his nails, filed into deadly points.
"Yes, if that's alright with you, old friend." Caleb smiled pleasantly and produced a small sack from somewhere and let it plop in front of the goblin.
Quick as a flash the goblin had opened the bag and pulled out a crystal. It was the size of a chicken egg, oval with many faces. The stone was a pure blood red. The goblin held up the crystal, examining it in the light and it gleamed and flickered – like shadow and flame was trapped in its depths. He gave the sack a little shake making the contents tinkle. He gave a satisfied hum.
"Excellent quality as usual. Though I daresay, they are a poor payment for what I have unearthed." Silvertooth frowned looking displeased.
Isaac felt a growl escape his throat. Silvertooth quickly held up his hands.
"Peace my friend, a deal is a deal." The little goblin looked anything but repentant.
"Calm down Isaac, such behavior is beneath you." Caleb gave his student a sharp look.
Isaac looked away from the sharp glare Caleb threw at him. Satisfied that things were under control, Caleb gestured for Silvertooth to continue.
"The girl is gone, she has left this land, I am sure that you already know that." The goblin licked his chapped lips, wishing he had ordered a drink. "What you don't know is who made her arrangements and where she left from or where she is going. I can answer all three questions."
"Well get on with it then," Isaac was growing impatient. Silvertooth paid him no mind, his eyes firmly on Caleb whose attention he had.
"The girl was smuggled into a trader ship that was headed for Scandinavia, in the north. Ripclaw, a senior member of Gringotts made the arrangements." The goblin was smirking know, teeth flashing savagely.
"You've only answered two of the questions there." Isaac grunted out annoyed with the goblin's theatrics. "Where did the girl charter the boat? What port did she leave from?" If at all possible, the goblin's grin grew wider.
"Potter Cove."
Caleb's eyes widened in surprise. "But that's…"
"Yes, exactly. You my friends have stumbled upon something quite important." Silvertooth chuckled, the sound coarse.
Isaac looked between the two of them, confused and quickly growing irritated.
"What did we stumble on? What's the big deal?" Isaac his patience wearing thin.
Silvertooth looked at him then, as if Isaac was just too stupid to understand. Isaac wanted to throttle the little beast.
"Don't you understand boy? The child you saw, the one who reeked of magic – is one of the most coveted persons in our world." Explained the goblin.
"Really? He was just a kid, powerful perhaps but still…" Isaac began but was he was startled by the goblin's laugh. It was a rough, grating throaty sound, nothing like a human would produce.
"Boy you are dimwitted." Silvertooth mocked.
Isaac growled, his fangs extending, a hiss escaping him. Silvertooth snorted, unimpressed.
"But don't you get it boy? That port is in land owned by the Potters, a family that is down to only one member." The goblin said leadingly.
"Wait you mean the boy, but surely it couldn't possibly – Potter is said to be well protected…" Isaac trailed off. The blood wards! He had never seen anything quite like them.
"Ding ding ding! Took you long enough." The goblin commented, pulling a flask from his robes and taking a long draw.
Caleb had gotten over his shock and now had an amused smile. "…it is certainly ingenious, when you think of it. Everybody expected him to have been secreted away somewhere, abroad even. Nobody in their right mind would have thought to check in Surrey!"
"How sure are you?" Isaac turned to regard Silvertooth. The goblin sniffed in offense.
"My information is always legitimate." Silvertooth waved his flask in front of him.
"The boy has a valid point." Caleb leaned forward slightly, suddenly looking very dangerous, Silvertooth gulped audibly, his eyes flicking about.
"The Potter lands went into lockdown ever since Grindelwald burnt the place to the ground, only the port was rebuilt. With all the Potters dead, except the young heir, gaining access to even the port is quite difficult. You have to go through the person or in this case the goblin who is in charge of managing the Potter holdings." The goblin quickly explained.
"So you're saying this senior member, is the Potter account manager?" Caleb asked, squinting in thought.
"In simple terms yes." Silvertooth confirmed.
Caleb leaned back in his chair. His finger nail taped the rim of his empty glass, the blood having been drained completely a while ago. Silvertooth had managed to give them a location on the girl, a bit vague perhaps but more than enough to get them back on the girl's trail.
This news about Potter though was something wholly unexpected. Silvertooth was not wrong, there were people who would do anything to get their hands on just where the Potter heir was.
"Silvertooth, I was wondering if you could perhaps arrange a meeting for me, someone with a darker persuasion?" Caleb asked all of a sudden.
Isaac looked startled. He stared at Caleb, unsure of where this was going. The nasty smile on their goblin associate's face made his insides twist.
"Surely you don't mean to sell the child out, Caleb." Silvertooth asked insincerely, a grin pulling at his lips.
"As if you did not intend to do the same my friend?" Caleb accused.
"I am an information broker." Silvertooth shrugged, unconcerned.
"Information is both power and currency in our line of business, always remember that." The goblin finished and there was nothing more to say.
When Hadrian woke up that day, he felt excited and was buzzing with energy. He threw the covers off himself and jumped out of bed. He startled Hedwig, his familiar almost falling off her perch in fright. Hadrian laughed and Hedwig huffed in annoyance, she shook her feathers, letting out a puff of cold and covering her master and floor with frost and snow. Hedwig was always so grumpy early in the morning.
"You know what day it is Hedwig?" Hadrian bounced on the balls of his feet.
"Hoot." Hedwig jumped from perch to shoulder in one smooth motion. Hadrian with an ease born of extreme familiarity shifted his neck slightly to give his familiar room. Hedwig cooed in her young master's ear and gently nibbled his ear. Hadrian felt her affection spill into him. He smiled and put on his slippers. Master and familiar then went into the kitchen.
Hadrian found his aunt at the stove, making breakfast, she was wearing a simple yellow sundress, the one she liked. She smiled at him when he wandered in. Dudley was sitting at the kitchen table, a portable game device in his hand, making all sorts of noises. Uncle Vernon was nowhere to be seen.
"Happy birthday Hadrian," Aunt Petunia punctuated the words by kissing his brow.
She frowned at him, she brought her arms up and tried out to smooth his ever-messy hair. She only succeeded in making it even messier. She gave up with a huff and pushed him towards the table.
Dudley glanced at him when Hadrian sat down at the table. Once Dudley was sure his mother had her back to them, he slid something small, silver and rectangular across the table. Hadrian looked at his cousin surprised. Dudley had a superior smile on his face.
"Happy birthday shrimp."
Hearing his aunt coming, Hadrian quickly stuffed his unexpected birthday present in the pocket of his morning robe.
His aunt then proceeded to heap both their plates with food; sausages, eggs, toast and pancakes. Usually she would never let them have so much unhealthy things at once, but birthdays were exceptions. Uncle Vernon came shuffling into the room, wearing his large robe and clutching a bundle of letters.
"Did it come in yet?" Hadrian looked at his uncle eyes shining. Vernon looked at his nephew and let out a chuckle.
"Good morning to you too," Vernon replied good-naturedly. Hadrian felt his ears go red in embarrassment.
"Happy birthday Hadrian." Vernon smiled fondly at his nephew.
He pulled out a thick envelope made out of coarse paper and handed it to the eleven-year-old. Hadrian stared at it in wonderment.
Mr. H. J. Potter
The Second Bedroom on the First floor
4 Privet Drive
Little Whinging
Surrey
With trembling hands, he turned the envelope over. There was the crest; a lion, an eagle, a snake and a badger surrounding a large H. Hogwarts.
"Well open it you dummy…"
"Dudley!"
Hadrian paid their voices no mind, his hands already working the paper, pulling out the letter. His letter.
HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore
Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of books and all necessary equipment. Term begins on September 1st. we await your owl no later than July 31st.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Deputy Headmistress
"I got in!" Hadrian whooped. Aunt Petunia let out a cheer, Uncle Vernon gave him a large pat on the back. Dudley snorted into his juice.
"Please, we all knew you'd get in." Dudley said with a roll of his eyes.
"Dudley, don't ruin his moment…" Petunia admonished lightly.
"I should write back – have Hedwig send the letter." Hadrian scrambled up and before any of them could say anything else, Hadrian sprinted up the stairs, letter clutched in hand, breakfast forgotten.
Petunia picked up the envelope, a shake later and another wad of papers fell out. It was a list of all the equipment he would need. Vernon peeked at the letter other his wife's shoulder and let out a whistle.
"That's a lot." Vernon commented and Petunia nodded in agreement. She did not remember her sister needing all this, but times changed.
"What the heck is a utility tunic?" Vernon had his brow scrunched up in confusion. Petunia hummed distractedly, her mind on other things. She absentmindedly gave the list to Vernon.
"Hey Pet, I think I might just get these dragonhide gloves for myself, they sound pretty neat." Vernon asked hopeful.
"Yea, you do that dear." She answered automatically, she never noticed her husband beaming.
She needed to call Minerva; it was time Hadrian learned a few things. She glanced at her boys, Hadrian was back and talking animatedly to his cousin. She felt something heavy settle in the pit of her stomach. Things were changing so fast.
*
It was two days after Hadrian's birthday, two days after he got his Hogwarts letter. While the initial excitement had worn down, Hadrian was still feeling the buzz. That was why he had barely thought much of his Aunt's suggestion that he accompany her to London. The drive had been pleasant, conversation light and happy. Hadrian was distracted, regaling his Aunt about all the things he had read about the school. She had indulged him of course, seemingly excited for him.
He never noticed how her smile seemed to struggle to reach her eyes sometimes, or how her fingers tightened around the steering wheel. He never noticed how she would glance at him, her eyes sad and nostalgic. He never noticed because she didn't want him to notice.
"Aunt Minnie!"
Minerva let out a small grunt when the eleven-year-old hugged her around the middle. They were in a small café on one of the busier streets of London. Luckily it was mid-morning and the place had few customers. Minerva let out an exasperated sigh before she gently patted the boy, a smile peeking out on her face.
"Should I be calling you professor rather?" Hadrian asked cheekily.
Hadrian let out a painful yelp. A welt was forming on his forehead. The older witch had flicked him!
"I expect none of your cheek at school young man, understand?" Her expression was stern, and combined with her well cut pantsuit, she looked quite the intimidating sight. Aunt Petunia announced her presence with her light laughter.
"You look well Minerva."
"Thank you, so do you…" The older woman flicked off an imaginary piece of lint off her the sleeve of her jacket. "I found us a table, come."
The three made their way to a table near the back, by the large windows. The table afforded them an unobstructed view of most of the café, with a direct line of sight of the entrance. As quickly as they were seated a waiter came to take their order. He was young, in his late teens, his face was covered in pimples but he had a bright smile.
Once their order came Minerva brought her hand up, index finger pointing up towards the ceiling. She spun her hand, her finger tracing a circle before with a simple flick the sounds of the room faded momentarily before sound returned shortly.
"You did that without a wand!" Hadrian had felt only the barest of magic and he looked at the witch with interest.
"Casting such delicate spells without a wand takes practice. You will get there yourself one day." She offered him a gentle smile. Hadrian grinned in obvious excitement. He looked to be bursting with questions but Minerva stopped him.
"Petunia, perhaps…" she trailed off, the younger woman was tense. Hadrian looked at his Aunt and was startled at the expression on her face.
"Auntie, what's the matter?" he asked worried.
"Do you remember, when you were younger and you asked me about your parents…" Petunia began.
"You said that they died protecting me…" he trailed of uncertainly. He was not sure where this conversation was going.
"I never did tell you the rest did I?" Petunia asked, looking at him, her eyes sad and suspiciously moist.
Hadrian shook his head. He remembered once asking about his parents. His Aunt had gotten so upset – Hadrian had never dared ask again.
"You were born in the middle of war…" Minerva's voice startled Hadrian. He had almost forgotten she was there. She looked down at him, but her eyes bore past him, looking at something far away.
"A dark wizard, brilliant in many ways and perhaps the most powerful wizard of the past few centuries…He did terrible things, horrible things; till this day people still fear to speak his very name…"
"What was his name?" Hadrian interrupted.
Minerva's green eyes sharpened into focus boring into him. Hadrian felt the weight of that stare and tried not to squirm under the look.
"Voldemort, he called himself Lord Voldemort." Minerva said finally.
Hadrian felt a chill creep up his spine, his muscles involuntary clenched and something like a forgotten memory stirred in him. He unclenched his fists under the table and let out a shuddering breath.
"He waged his war, across Britain and Europe. Your parents were part of the resistance, as was I." Minerva took a sip of water; her throat having gone dry. Hadrian could feel his heart pounding loudly in his ears.
"We were ill prepared and while we held him back, we all knew that we were losing, slowly but surely. We needed something to happen, a game changer. Then he disappeared; at the height of his power, at the cusp of victory. Just like that and he was just gone."
"What happened?" His voice felt small to his own ears. Hadrian had a bad feeling; he could feel it brewing in the air.
He almost flinched when the older witch gently brushed the fringe of his hair away from his forehead. Her fingers lingered over his forehead, hovering with the barest of spaces above his scar. Her finger gently traced its shape – lightning, the rune Sowilo, proudly stood stark against his skin. He felt his eyelids flutter and shut before he let out a shuddering breath.
"You happened Hadrian." She gave him a look he could not decipher, it left him feeling small and uncomfortable.
"Nobody knows exactly why the Dark Lord chose to attack your parents directly; it could have been to make an example, to send a message. Perhaps he hated the Potter family influence – we don't know. But he chose to attack that Halloween night ten years ago. He killed your parents…" A flash of despair momentarily took a hold of Minerva's face, her expression stricken, it happened so fast Hadrian was not sure he actually saw it.
"Yet when he tried to kill you, he failed. Somehow, some way he failed, and his power broke. He has never been seen since." Minerva finished.
Hadrian was silent for a few moments, he felt raw and needed some time to find his balance.
"But how? If he managed to kill my mom and dad – how did I survive?" he finally asked his burning question.
"Your mother, Lily, did something…" Aunt Petunia's voice startled him. "Some sort of protective charm."
"She's right Hadrian. Your mother gifted you with a protection so powerful, it managed to stop a curse that cannot be blocked. All it left was that scar." Minerva looked pointedly at the scar now hidden by his fringe.
Hadrian unconsciously reached up to his scar, feeling it with his fingers. He had had it for as long as he could remember. His Aunt had once told him it was from an accident from when he was a baby. Hadrian had always liked his scar, shaped like a lightning bolt, it made him look cool. Now it didn't feel so cool; it felt decidedly heavy. A reminder of a terrible night. With a sudden flash of insight, he realized something – all his nightmares; the terrible sound of a woman, flashes of green light, was it all vague recollection of that night.
"What does this all mean? Why tell me now?" He looked between the two women. It was Aunt Petunia who answered first.
"Because now you are old enough to understand why I kept it from you. Plus, in any case you had to know, considering you are going to school." she explained.
"Huh? School? What's school have to do with this?" Hadrian looked at the two, confused.
Minerva regarded him with a sardonic grin; "You Mr. Potter are famous, in our world at least. Every child grew up learning and reading about Hadrian James Potter, the Boy Who Lived…"
The silver lighter opened with a metallic clink, a bright spark and a small flame burst into existence at the top. Hadrian stared at the flame; his mind was a whir of thoughts. He wished he could chuck it all into the little flame he held in his hand. It was a day after he had been told about the circumstances of his parents' death; and about his apparent celebrity status.
When they had gotten back, he had gone and stayed in his room. He had not left and his Aunt had merely brought him his food. She had looked like she had wanted to say something, but couldn't seem to find the words. So, she had left him alone, everyone had left him alone.
He was thankful. He did not know what to feel, how to process it all. How does one deal with learning that your parents were killed by a powerful dark wizard who couldn't kill you and because of it you were famous, famous for something you couldn't even remember. His night had been unpleasant – for once he remembered his nightmare.
Hearing his mother scream and beg, pleading for his laugh, someone laughing, mocking. He had woken up in a cold sweat, his heart pounding and his scar burning. He touched it then, his scar. He could feel it under his fingers, it felt so ordinary, so inconsequential and yet…
Hedwig let out a soft hoot from her perch. Hadrian, startled out of his musings turned to look at her; impressions and warmth flooded into him from her. It meshed with the jumbled mess that were his emotions and thoughts. Hadrian let of a pleased hum, closing his eyes. He would have stayed like that had his door not been slammed open.
Dudley walked in, a scowl on his face, in his hands he was balancing a tray of tarts and two juice-boxes. Dudley was getting big, Hadrian noticed absentmindedly. Dudley had always been bigger than Hadrian, what with him being a year older. Still Dudley was getting more muscular, wider. Without waiting for an invite, he walked in, absentmindedly closing the door with the back of his foot. He placed the tray on the bed and sat. Hadrian made to speak but Dudley cut him off by shoving a juice box at him.
"Eat." He gestured imperiously at the tarts on the tray. Hadrian went ahead and picked one up. They were his favorite, treacle tarts. The two cousins sat there silently munching on the sweet treats, occasionally throwing a piece to Hedwig who gobbled them up expertly. Soon the tarts were gone and their fingers were sticky. Dudley let out a satisfied hum, patting his belly.
"So…" Dudley looked at Hadrian expectantly.
"So…?" Hadrian looked clueless.
"Are you going to play dumb? Fine – what's up with you anyway? Ever since you got back from London you've been all moody, locking yourself up here. It has mom up in a tiffy. You got your letter; you should be happy not here moping about – like when I left for Smeltings. Now either you tell me yourself, all peaceable like or I wring it out of you. Your choice." Dudley sucked on his straw, making a slurping sound, his juice box was empty.
Hadrian felt his lips twitch and before he knew what was happening, the words came tumbling out of his mouth. Dudley sat there, quiet and attentive. Then Hadrian was done, his breath coming fast. He looked up at Dudley hoping to catch his expression, but his cousin was looking away from him, his brow crinkled in thought. Dudley let out a hum.
"Really that's all you have to say? It's not even words…" Hadrian threw his arms up, irritated.
"Well what did you expect? I doubt I could tell you anything better than what mom and the cat professor already told you. I mean this is some pretty heavy stuff." Dudley gestured, his juice box flailing about.
"Then what was the point of all this." Hadrian gestured to the bed – the covers littered with bits of crumb from the tarts, a juice box lying haphazardly on the duvet.
"Dad always says that talking about our problems helps. I think it did; an hour ago you weren't talking to anyone and now, well here we are." Dudley shrugged.
Hadrian felt like punching him but stopped himself. Dudley could be so annoying sometimes, but he had a point. Hadrian felt just that little lighter after telling Dudley.
"Look," Dudley turned to look at his younger cousin fully in the eye, his expression serious.
"The way I see it at least now we know how your parents died, which is a good thing because well they were looking out for you. They loved you, and that's what matters. Concentrate on that." Dudley finished awkwardly.
Hadrian flushed as a sudden warmth blossom in him. He smiled and Dudley smiled back, rubbing his arm nervously.
"Anyway I was hoping you could help me with my game, I can't beat the boss on this level so I'm stuck…" Dudley scratched his head, embarrassed. Hadrian let out a chuckle before getting out of bed and following Dudley to his room.
"You know celebrities get free stuff right…." Dudley said suddenly.
"DUDLEY DURSLEY!"
The two boys jumped as Aunt Petunia's voice thundered from the kitchen.
"How the bloody hell did she hear that?" Dudley whispered furiously.
"Language!"
That evening there was no mention of Hadrian's sudden attendance at the dinner table. Nobody mentioned anything about dark wizards or anything of the sort. If Aunt Petunia was a bit more affectionate that night, fussing over him a bit more than usual, nobody dared to voice it.
Really it was like any other night in the Dursley household. The atmosphere quickly turned to excited when Aunt Petunia finally announced that they would be able to visit the Wizarding shopping district that weekend. The three males on the table shared sly grins and Petunia pretended not to see anything.
That Saturday, the family woke up bright and early, had a healthy breakfast and then piled into Uncle Vernon's car and headed off to London. Under his wife's directions Vernon drove to a street filled with a lot of shops, some old and selling antiques and all sorts of things.
"So, Pet, what now?"
The family of four were standing on the street, probably looking lost and awkward. Vernon looked at his wife who was frowning looking back and forth between a piece of paper and the line of shops across the street from them.
"Minerva did say it was here…" Petunia asked squinted, hoping to see something else.
"Well what's it called then," Uncle Vernon panned his eyes left and right, feeling that maybe the shop would just show itself.
Meanwhile Dudley was bouncing on the balls of his feet getting impatient. Hadrian found his eyes drawn to a particular shop, it was tucked between a bookstore and a music shop. The shop seemed so out of place on the clean London street, it looked old and dirty.
"It's called the Leaky Cauldron." Petunia answered.
"Oh, it'll be that one then." Hadrian pointed at the shop right across the street from them.
The other three looked and Hadrian noted how their eyes seemed to just slide over to either of the stores beside it. Hadrian noticed that nearly all the pedestrians' eyes did the same. Curious.
"I don't see it!" Dudley huffed, his eyes peered intently forward, but they slid away to stare at an old telephone booth.
"Oh, I remember…" Aunt Petunia said triumphantly. "Hadrian, hold my and your uncle's hands please."
Not giving the strange request much thought, Hadrian complied. Vernon let out an impressed sound.
"That's quite clever." Vernon looked at the dingy bar that had faded into view the moment Hadrian had held his hand.
Dudley looked at them strangely, "What's clever?"
Vernon let go of his nephew and Dudley grabbed the young wizard's hand. Concentrating a bit, he saw the shop emerge between two others. "Wicked!"
The family then proceeded to cross the street, hands linked and swinging for effect. They must have looked ridiculous, Hadrian thought privately. A bit of maneuvering later and they were all in the Leaky Cauldron – the inside was dark and shabby and despite it being mid-morning, the barman, an old balding man with many of his yellowed teeth missing, was pouring some customers a drink. Their entrance did not go unnoticed.
"Better keep that hat low now." Vernom whispered and Hadrian heeded the words pulling his cap lower over his eyes.
Before they had left, his uncle had thrown it at him to hide his scar, "There's no sense to getting mobbed." His uncle had said.
The various customers having satisfied some of their curiosity turned back to whatever they had been doing. With Uncle Vernon taking the lead they made their way to the bar.
"Excuse me." He called to man behind the counter.
"Ah, nice morning isn't it?" the bartender was cleaning a glass with a dirty rag. Aunt Petunia scrunched up her nose in distaste.
Hadrian felt Dudley poke him, getting his attention. Following Dudley's not so subtle gestures he looked across the room. There a few meters away was a man wearing purple robes trimmed in blue and his head was wrapped in turban. While the man's appearance was strange, it was not what grabbed the two kids' attention. The man was reading a newspaper, the wizard paper if the name was anything to go by – The Daily Prophet. It was quite the same as any old paper except for one thing, the pictures – the pictures were moving!
"You two are muggles right?" the bartender's voice drifted to them.
"Muggles." Uncle Vernon asked uncertainly.
"Non-magic folk."
"Oh yes we are, how'd you know." Uncle Vernon asked interested.
"Easy enough, you just look it is all. Plus, your boys are gaping at the newspaper like they never seen it before…" the bartender trailed off with a careless shrug. Uncle Vernon turned and noticed the paper. Huh, moving pictures were quite a novel concept.
"You must be wanting to get into the Alley then?" the adults nodded. "Come along then."
The family of four followed the surprisingly sprightly old man to the back of the restaurant and into a narrow-walled courtyard. It was full of weeds and a trash can was resting against the wall.
"Now you best pay attention now." The man then pulled out a long thin stick from somewhere – his wand and then seemed to count the bricks above the trash can.
"Three up… Two across." He then tapped the wall on the spot he indicated.
The wall shivered and shuddered before the bricks fell away, folding into themselves and opening up into an arch. The family's first look into the Alley was a cobbled street that twisted and turned with shops lining it.
When they stepped into the Alley, Hadrian found that his eyes could not stay still. There was so much to see! The shops that lined both sides of the cobbled street were colorful and bright, grabbing at his attention. He and Dudley quickly got tired of tugging at each other – there was far too much to see. He could hear whizzes and fizzles coming from some of them.
He heard owners shouting their wares, cauldrons made of pewter and silver, animals that he had never heard of. There was an ice cream parlor, with bubbles that smelled of sugar and ice floating out of it. Uncle Vernon held Dudley firmly as they went past that one. One shop, an apothecary smelled of rotten cabbage and sweaty socks; the window was lined with all sorts of things, one jar contained small eyeballs that winked at him.
One shop had a broom on display; a bunch of people were pressed outside the window, admiring it. It was unlike any broom he had ever seen. Sleek and gleaming, its twigs were tightly packed, not one out of place and its lines gave the impression of speed. Nimbus 2000 was stamped in gold lettering at the front of the handle. So, this was what was used in Quidditch; just looking at the broom gave him a tingling feeling.
Hadrian would have loved to stop and admire all that he could see, but his Aunt had a firm grip on his shoulder. She ignored his protests, adjusted the cap over his head and marched him straight ahead. It was when they reached a white imposing building that Hadrian managed to focus on one thing.
The building towered over its neighbors, it was domed, with what looked like glass yet it gleamed like nothing he had ever seen before. The pillars at the front weren't smooth but had designs on them, intricately carved to look like vines. The steps leading up to the front doors, massive bronze things, were flanked by two statues. Two dragons poised to attack, their maws open, marble teeth gleaming. All this was quite interesting but it was the two people, two guards who stood on either side of the door that held most of Hadrian's attention. Goblins.
"Wicked!" he heard Dudley whisper excitedly. Hadrian certainly agreed. They were short, but were no less intimidating for it. Their skin was leathery, with a slight greenish tint to it. They had long pointy ears, that twitched at every sound, their heads were bald and domed. They had long fingers, topped with sharp pointed nails. They were wearing armor, a dull grey that blended well into the shadows cast by the pillars. Each carried a spear, twice as tall as they were, it's deadly tip gleaming. Hadrian could see an axe handle strapped on one of the guard's back.
Hadrian gulped when he noticed that their small dark beady eyes followed them up the stairs. He wondered if they would be skewered. The goblins gave them small bows as they went inside and then they were facing a pair of silver doors, with words engraved on them:
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours, Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.
The massive doors opened silently as they approached and with a last nervous glance at the guards, the Dursley family entered the Wizarding Bank. Dudley gasped in wonder and Hadrian gaped. Whereas the outside was all gleaming white marble, the inside was a contrast. The floor was made of dark marble tiles, with veins of gold running through them, branching off in random directions. The massive hall they were in was lined with pillars – every other pillar had a pale crystal halfway up its length. The purpose of the crystals was lost on Hadrian.
On either side was a line of high stools behind a long counter made of dark wood and polished to a shine. On each sat a goblin, unlike those outside, these wore suits, pinstriped with little bow ties around their necks. Many of them were busy, writing in ledgers, counting coins, weighing gleaming gems or attending to a customer. Hadrian looked back at his family. Uncle Vernon was looking around warily, Dudley was looking everywhere, trying hard not to stare at the piles of wealth on some of the tellers' desks. Aunt Petunia while looking discomfited was looking around, her eyes searching. She took a step forward towards a teller with no customer. Her sensible heels echoed but she paid it no mind. She stood under the teller, she gave a little cough and was ignored.
"Excuse me?" she called softly.
"I will be with you in a moment miss." the goblin's voice was surprisingly soft, not at all what one expected.
Aunt Petunia bit back her reply and waited. She had an inkling as to why the counter was so high; the little bastards probably enjoyed looking down on their customers, she thought uncharitably.
With a final clink of metal, the goblin then swept the coins he was counting into a simple brown pouch, it had a large golden G emblazoned on its side. Without a care in the world, the goblin clasped his fingers in front of him and looked down at her.
"Yes?" The Teller asked.
Aunt Petunia resisted the urge to grimace. Sucking in her pride she the pasted on a pleasantly fake smile.
"Good morning, my name is Petunia Dursley, I have an appointment with Account Manager Ripclaw at ten. Would you be so kind as to direct us to his office?"
The goblin's dark beady eyes suddenly grew unnaturally sharp, they flicked to the dark-haired boy beside the obviously muggle woman. They noted the nondescript cap he was wearing low over his head, enough to hide his fringe. Hadrian fidgeted under the penetrating look. The tinkle of a small bell had an obviously younger goblin come jogging up to them.
"Griphook, take them to Manager Ripclaw's office." The younger goblin gave a small bow before turning on his heel and walking away.
They made to follow, "Only the boy and his aunt are required I'm afraid." Uncle Vernon gestured to his wife to go on before he turned to the goblin.
"So, mind telling me what the exchange rate is between pounds and whatever it is you use here?" Vernon gestured vaguely to the opulent bank.
Hadrian turned back to look at his cousin and uncle, he noticed that his uncle had a wicked smile on his face.
The walk to the office was done in silence, Griphook was not one for idle conversation it seemed. Hadrian did not mind, and busied himself with looking at the various carvings on the walls.
Done on the dark stone, the carvings should have looked dull and lifeless but these were not ordinary carvings. The moment he looked at them, color bled into them and they came to life, reenacting bloody battles and discoveries. He noticed that the hall was well lit and looked up. So that's what the stones are for. The pale crystals he had noticed in the banking hall also lined the walls here.
Unlike in the hall where they had been dull, here they shone, spilling gentle light into the otherwise dark corridor. Soon they came across doors, each had names on them, the plaques gleaming silver in the light. Hadrian read a few of them as he passed; Bones, Black, Nott, Greengrass. Finally, they stopped at a door and Griphook knocked, three quick raps.
The plaque gleamed and the words were easily visible; Potter. Hadrian felt a nervous flutter in his stomach and tried to calm himself.
"Enter."
The voice behind the door was gruff. Feeling nervous, Hadrian followed on the heels of his aunt and entered the office.
The first thing that Hadrian noticed was the large window that dominated the back, giving a view of the Alley below them. The second thing he noticed was the large desk made of dark wood. Looking at the desk had him looking at the goblin that was sat there – he was dressed smartly; except he had taken off his jacket and was only in a waistcoat. The sleeves of his crisp white shirt were folded up his arms and he was not wearing a tie. His bald head was bent over the desk, and he was furiously scribbling on a piece of paper.
In short, the goblin looked rather overworked, a sight that oddly put Hadrian at ease. Hadrian and his aunt sat themselves on the chairs in front of the desk. Hadrian wiggled a bit in his chair, the thing was the most uncomfortable chair he had ever encountered. He gave up his attempts when the chair gave a louder than usual creak. Instead he busied himself with looking around the office.
To his left the obsidian walls had been carved into shelves – shelves that were filled with odds and ends that Hadrian could not identify. There were what looked like crystal balls, the bottom shelf had a large silver basin that looked to be made of stone. Looking further around the room he spotted a rack of weapons. What sort of account manager kept a bunch of swords and axes in their office? He looked from the gleaming edge of the halberd and glanced at the goblin still busy writing.
How could someone so small manage to lift something that massive. His thoughts were interrupted by the very goblin he was thinking of – with a final flourish the goblin finished up writing. Rolling the parchment quickly, he took a small metal pitcher and tipped it over the letter. Golden molten wax poured out and sealed the edge of the letter, the application of a small stamp later had the letter engraved with a large G. Holding it up, Griphook, the younger goblin quickly snatched it away and left the office. The goblin spent a few moments to shuffle some papers around his desk before turning to his guests.
"Mrs Dursley, nice to see you again." His voice was gruff but not unkind. He turned his dark eyes to Hadrian, "And you must be her nephew…" the goblin quickly left his desk and went to the shelves.
Before either he or his aunt could comment on the strangeness of it all he was back, in his hand was what Hadrian had thought to be a crystal ball.
"Now first before we start anything, I need to confirm your identity…" the goblin was talking to Hadrian.
"With that?" Hadrian looked at the object curiously. The object in question was oval shaped, the top was made of glass and it rested on a wooden bed. Hadrian could see its inside filled with some sort of smoky substance.
"Yes with this – a Diviner. Now if you please, place your hand upon its surface and it shall do the rest." The goblin requested, somewhat impatient.
Hadrian looked at his Aunt, hesitantly she gave him a nod. He placed his hand on the Diviner. For a few moments nothing happened and Hadrian felt a swell of anxiousness rise within himself. Then the Diviner let out a soft chime and all the smoke had gone clear white. The goblin let out a pleased hum before he toom the device and placed it back onto its place on the shelf.
"Let me start by first welcoming you back to the Wizarding world Mr Potter. My name is Ripclaw and I am the Potter Account Manager." The goblin said his rough voice turning softer.
"Nice to meet you Mr Ripclaw and I – I prefer to go by Hadrian." Hadrian waved in greeting.
"Very well. I am unsure if your Aunt has told you much…" the goblin asked his gaze flicking to his aunt.
"Only the basics. I don't know much myself and thought it best to leave it up to the experts, you." His aunt explained.
Ripclaw nodded in acknowledgement. Taking a deep breath, the goblin started explaining –
"You are Hadrian James Potter, the heir to an old family, the Potters. What this means is that when you come of age, you will inherit the title Lord Potter and the total sum of the wealth, land, businesses and any available assets your family has acquired over the years."
Hadrian nodded, having had this explained to him before. He gestured for the goblin to continue and Ripclaw promptly did so.
"My job as your account manager is to help you manage what I must admit is a substantial amount of wealth; providing you with services such as but not limited to investment advice, managing your accounts, funding your businesses. Your land assets are currently being managed by your steward…."
Hadrian let out a surprised cough. "I have a steward?" he asked.
"Yes, but unfortunately he is unable to meet with you today due to circumstances." Ripclaw waved his concerns away.
"Okay, but why do I need all this, how much do I actually have…?" Hadrian was surprised when he was handed a sheaf of papers.
"In preparation to our meeting, I ordered a proper accounting of all your accounts and all other assets that Gringotts manages for you…" The goblin said his tone gleaming with pride.
"Accounts? As in multiple." His aunt peered over his shoulder and then let out a gasp. Hadrian had never seen those many zeros.
"Yes, accounts. As you can see…" Ripclaw then proceeded to point out places of interest on the papers. "…apart from the Potter Vault, which is your main vault, you have three additional accounts, vaults, with us."
"Why does he have so many? I understand this one…" Aunt Petunia pried the papers from Hadrian's hands. "It says trust vault, I assume his parents set it up for his expenses before he becomes of age, is it?"
The goblin gave a nod in acknowledgement.
"So, what is a collections vault?" She asked, eyes scrunched as she read the papers.
"Ah, that. I'm sure Mr Potter you know by now that you are something of a celebrity. Well that's what that vault is for – your adoring public, they were grateful for your deeds that many of them bequeathed you things, money, jewels, books etcetera. It is also where the royalties from the book series, that is based on you, are received." Ripclaw explained blandly.
"Wait, there's a book about me?!" Hadrian goggled.
"Books actually. Your name was used without your permission, so your godmother and I took the liberty of filling a lawsuit on your behalf, hence the royalties." Ripclaw said preening with pride. Hadrian realized that a happy goblin looked quite terrifying with his sharp teeth.
"Uhm okay? Thanks for that." Hadrian retook the papers from his aunt and looked at them again.
He owned a silk factory in South America? What was Potter Cove? Vineyards, potion patents, it was all so much to take in – and so he focused on one thing; Lily Evans Vault.
"My mother's vault…" his voice even to his own ears felt small. His aunt placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.
"Yes, what with the war going on, she never had time to authorize that her vault be absorbed into the family vault. As her eldest and only child, it is yours." Ripclaw explained, coughing slightly.
Hadrian listened to all this; his eyes still glued to his mother's name.
"Do I have the ability to authorize that? This merger?" He looked up and met the dark eyes of the account manager – his account manager, he was quickly coming to accept.
"Yes you do." Ripclaw answered.
"Then do it." Hadrian said without hesitation.
Ripclaw looked at the young Potter before him, his gaze considering.
"May I suggest something?" the goblin spoke slowly. Hadrian frowned before nodding.
"The merger need not be with your main Family vault, any of your own vaults would suffice." Ripclaw pointed out.
It took seconds for Hadrian to piece together what Ripclaw was suggesting. Hadrian offered the goblin a gleaming smile.
"I would like to merge my mother's vault with my trust vault please." Hadrian spoke clearly.
Ripclaw nodded and proceeded to write something in his notes. Ripclaw was pleased that the young boy had gotten his meaning quickly.
"Harry,"
He turned and faced his aunt, her face was tight with emotion but she still managed a gentle smile.
"I know that this is not what you expected, it's not what I expected honestly but know that I am here with you every step of the way." She squeezed his hand gently.
"Your home economics lessons don't really do this any justice Auntie," he managed a smile and she chuckled good naturedly.
Ripclaw cleared his throat to gain their attention.
"I know that this is a lot to take in Mr Potter, usually most heirs grow up learning these things, but…" he trailed off shrugging helplessly, he did not need to say that Hadrian's situation was somewhat unique.
"In any case, you are not expected to actively take part in the management of your estate until you are at least fourteen. So, you have a few years to learn the basics – plus I will be at your disposal as I have been for the Potters who came before you."
"Wait… How long have you been doing this?" Hadrian asked, looking at what he had assumed to be a middle aged goblin. Ripclaw let out a grin exposing sharp dangerous looking teeth.
"For quite a few years, I had served your grandfather from the moment he became lord till the day he died." The goblins voice had gone quite nostalgic there at the end.
Hadrian found himself looking at the goblin with new eyes. If what the goblin said was true, and Hadrian had no reason to believe otherwise, then the goblin was quite old. Goblins aged well, just like Wizards and witches, he thought privately to himself.
"In any case, there is still the case of your lordship…" Ripclaw was looking down at his notes.
"Wait I thought that wasn't until a couple of years down the line, after he comes of age?" Petunia asked hastily.
"You are of course right, but because he is the last of his line, certain privileges are open to him." Ripclaw explained.
"What sort of privileges?" Petunia asked a tad anxious. She shot a look towards her nephew who was listening intently.
"He can become emancipated as early as fourteen." Ripclaw stated, plainly.
"Oh…" Petunia said, eyes wide.
"Yes, as I said many of these things are still years off. So please do not be overly worried." The goblin reached into one of the drawers on his desk, his whole arm disappearing inside.
They could hear things being shuffled about and clattering inside. The drawers seemed to be bigger on the inside. Finally, having found what he was looking for, the goblin pulled out his arm. In his hand was a small ornate wooden box, with a coat of arms carved into it. A rearing griffin, its wings spread and clutching a wand and sword in either of its front claws. Under it was an inscription; Audaces Fortuna Iuvat.
Without preamble Ripclaw opened the box and inside on top of a velvet covered cushion was a slim golden ring, engraved with a repeating pattern of a griffin.
"It is the ring worn by the heir of the Potter family. Every lord who came before you wore this ring. Wear it with pride." Ripclaw answered the unasked question
Hadrian gingerly took the delicate looking ring out of the box. Its weight was barely noticeable. He ran his thumb over its surface; it was smooth. He could feel the magic within the metal, it felt familiar and benevolent. He slipped it on the ring finger of his right hand and felt the ring thrum and shudder before it tightened to fit perfectly. He looked down at the gold band, it felt right.
They found Uncle Vernon and Dudley standing outside the broom shop, looking into the window with curious expressions.
"Would you believe it Pet, they reckon that broom is faster than my car." Vernon asked looking dubious.
Aunt Petunia looked at the broom on display. She admitted it was quite an eye catching and well-crafted thing, but it looked entirely unsuited to actual sweeping.
"I think it would be best if we split up Vernon. You take the boys and go buy the cauldron, scales and potion ingredients. I will go get his books and telescope and we will meet up at that shop over there." She pointed at a clothing store: Madam Malkins Robes for all Occasions, it was quite close to the ice cream shop they had seen earlier.
"We are on a schedule so please don't dilly dally." She handed him a pouch full of coins and left them to their own devices. Uncle Vernon looked at the boys and offered them a smile.
"Come along then, lets finish this quick so I can buy some fancy gloves." The three quickly made their way up the street, consulting the map that Uncle Vernon carried a few times.
They certainly would have found the Apothecary without the map; all they would have needed to do was to follow the smell.
The shop was dark and cool and smelt awful, on account of there being so many dead things in one place. The number of ingredients and wares on sale surprised Hadrian. From things as simple as herbs and flowers, to beetles and moths and things such as frog liver. It was varied and full of things he could hardly name or even begin to guess at.
The shopkeeper seeing obviously muggle customers had tried to pull one over them. But Uncle Vernon was in his element; he haggled and threatened until he got what he was sure were fair prices. Uncle Vernon insisted on buying a few extra ingredients for when his nephew felt like practicing. They left leaving a bemused owner.
"That is how you get what you want boys, don't let them walk over you."
Luckily the shop that sold cauldrons and scales was nearby; probably because it made sense to have it close to where the potion making ingredients were sold. The experience went much smoother this time and soon they were headed to the clothes shop. Their hands were quite full of awkward shaped packages and every step was accompanied with clinking. So, it was with relief that they saw Aunt Petunia standing outside the clothes shop with a trunk beside her.
"Are you sure it will all fit inside?" Vernon looked sceptically at the medium sized trunk.
On any other occasion it would be a reasonable size but they had quite a lot with them, in varying awkward shapes.
"I'm quite sure dear." Petunia smiled sweetly.
Uncle Vernon huffed before opening the trunk, "Oh."
The inside was much larger than the out. It was quite disorienting for his eyes to see, but as they stuffed their purchases beside the books that his wife had bought and neatly arranged, he was thoroughly impressed.
The clothes shop was thoroughly unimpressive; it looked every bit as any mundane clothing store that Hadrian had ever been in. There were racks of clothes, divided into sections by gender, age and as well as special use. A counter was off to the side and behind it was a bored looking girl, flipping through some magazines.
Behind the girl were shelves filled with tins, belts, hats and yarn. The moment they opened the door, a little bell chimed and an older woman, a witch presumably, with grey in her hair walked up to them, a pleasant smile on her face.
"Good morning, I assume that you're a Hogwarts bunch? Good come along here and up the box…"
Hadrian followed the woman deeper into the shop, bemused by her abrupt manner. He glanced back and noticed that only his aunt was trailing behind him, his Uncle and cousin having drifted somewhere. Dutifully he stood on top of the box, and was immediately accosted by another young woman with tape who draped some cloth around his form.
Trying hard not to fidget, he looked to his right and saw another boy also getting fitted for his robes. The boy was pale, with a slim face and pointed chin, his hair was a pale blond and was slicked back. He stood stiffly and there was a slight sneer on his face.
"You're going to Hogwarts too I imagine." The voice was sharp and pointed. Hadrian was startled to find the other boy looking at him, his grey eyes surveying him critically.
"Uh – yea I am. I'm quite excited. Didn't know I was going to get in." said Hadrian grinning sheepishly.
"Well I always knew I was going to go; my name was down the moment I was born." The other boy said importantly, lifting his chin imperiously.
Hadrian thought he looked a bit ridiculous what with all the bits of robes stuck around him, but he chose not to mention it.
"But I'm sure you wouldn't know anything about that, being muggleborn and all…" the other boy continued.
"How'd you reckon I'm muggleborn?" Hadrian asked, curious.
The other boy seemed startled to find himself interrupted. He seemed to struggle with the idea for a while before he gathered himself enough to respond.
"You're wearing a muggle cap?" the other boy stated a bit unsure.
It was Hadrian's turn to be startled. He had forgotten that he was wearing a cap. Did a hat really give that much impression to these people?
"Well I'm a halfblood and I just like the hat." Hadrian explained, he wasn't lying either, he quite liked the hat.
"Oh…well that's okay I suppose." The blond boy said nodding to himself as if things were alright in his world.
Hadrian frowned, was there something wrong with being a muggleborn. He voiced the question to his still unnamed acquaintance.
The other boy frowned in thought, his grey eyes glazing as if lost in thought, "Well I wouldn't say wrong exactly…. The way father says it, Purebloods are better and muggleborns are worse off. Halfbloods are okay though…" he added quickly seeing the frown on the cap wearing boy.
"But why are they better…" Hadrian begun to ask but was interrupted by the arrival of his aunt.
"Oh Hadrian, I see you've made a friend. Hello, young man." Petunia smiled pleasantly.
Hadrian noticed the other boy stiffen, his spine straightening as he looked at Aunt Petunia.
"Hello ma'am." The boy said stiffly, he suddenly looked uncomfortable. Hadrian couldn't imagine why though.
Aunt Petunia held up a couple of articles of clothing; shirts and trousers, they were of a different cut than he was used to.
"I got you these, do you like them or should I get you something different?" She spoke a bit excited.
"No those are fine, thanks." Hadrian quickly said, he wasn't going to let her get in her groove, otherwise they would be here for hours and he would be trying on outfits till his arms fell off.
He turned to look at the other boy but he was gone. He spotted him walking out with a tall striking platinum blond woman. He hadn't even gotten the other boys name.
Their last stop was the wand shop and Hadrian couldn't almost stop himself from jumping up and down. The shop was small and old, it was squeezed between two other shops. In old faded and peeling lettering it announced itself; Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C.
A tinkling bell sounded somewhere in the dark narrow shop when they entered. The family of four felt a bit crowded in the space before the counter. Uncle Vernon made himself comfortable in the single spindly chair. Hadrian peered into the gloom of the back room, hoping to see something.
"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Hadrian jumped. Uncle Vernon must have jumped too, because there was a loud crunching noise and he quickly got off the spindly chair. An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.
"Hello," said Hadrian awkwardly.
"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Hadrian Potter." It wasn't a question.
"You have your mother's eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." The odd man continued.
Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Hadrian his pale orbs peering at the young wizard intently. Hadrian wished the man would blink. Those silvery eyes were unsettling.
"Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it — it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course." The man spoke in his slow odd tone, unnerving the family of four.
"Wait – how can you remember what wands you sold – that must have been ages ago." Dudley interjected, his face was the picture of confused curiosity.
Mr. Ollivander blinked owlishly, and Hadrian found himself oddly relieved at the gesture. Mr Ollivander seemed to have only now noticed the other boy standing beside his customer.
"Every master craftsman remembers all that he creates." He smiled softly as if sharing some great secret.
The man then turned those strange eyes back to Hadrian. "Which is your wand arm?"
Hadrian looked at the man oddly not really knowing what he meant, so he raised both his arms. "I'm ambidextrous."
"Interesting." The old man then pulled out a tape measure from somewhere and proceeded to measure him.
Shoulder to wrist, fingertips to elbow, the diameter of his head. The old man then stepped away, going to the back of the shop, he left the tape measure, floating and still measuring Hadrian. It was a testament to how much magic the four had seen today that they barely blinked at the animated tape.
Dudley did laugh when the tape started measuring the length between Hadrian's nostrils. Any attempt to swat the possessed tape only led to him getting tangled up in it.
"That's enough now." Mr Ollivander called out and the tape fell, lifeless to the floor.
The wand-maker dumped a few slim long boxes onto the counter.
"Willow and Unicorn hair, eleven inches and a bit stiff." He pulled out a slim wand and handed it to Hadrian.
"Give it a wave," he said after noticing that the boy was holding the wand with no idea what to do.
Feeling a bit silly, Hadrian waved the wand. There was a loud bang and the shelf nearest to the counter exploded sending boxes flying. Hadrian gawked at the wand in his hand. He was less than surprised when Mr. Ollivander snatched the wand out of his hands.
"Birch and a dragon heartstring from a particularly ferocious Welsh Green, twelve inches and springy." Hadrian waved the wand, this time confidently, hoping it would help. It didn't.
The wand let out a large roaring gout of flame. Only some quick wand work from Mr. Ollivander saved the shop from burning. Hadrian exchanged looks with his Aunt, she looked worried. Uncle Vernon was looking at the door leading outside and Dudley didn't know whether to grin or run. Mr. Ollivander though looked excited, his eyes gleamed in delight.
"Such wonderful reactions Mr. Potter." The man honestly looked deranged.
The wands started coming faster now; Oak with phoenix feather conjured a blizzard, Hawthorn with unicorn hair blew a hole into a wall. Some wands didn't even produce any reactions at all, simply feeling dead and cold in Hadrian's hand. Some wands shrivelled up – and didn't that bring a laugh from Mr. Ollivander, and some wands jumped out of his hands and rolled away. A pile of unmatched wands grew steadily on the counter much to the delight of the wandmaker and to Hadrian's growing sense of dread.
Was he broken? Was he unable to use a wand? Uncle Vernon must have noticed his distress because Hadrian soon felt his uncle's large hand on his shoulder offering silent support. Still the pile grew, the wand reactions varied and Hadrian's dread grew.
"You are one of the trickiest customers I have had in a while Mr Potter."
"I'm sorry for that." Hadrian apologised, gesturing to the pile of unmatched wands.
The wand-maker let out a laugh. "Sorry? Ha, this is quite fun. It means that you won't be having any old wand…hmm I wonder."
The wand-maker quickly left the counter, disappearing into the depths of his shop. They could hear him muttering to himself. They were startled by loud cursing accompanied with a loud thud of something heavy falling and then silence.
They were debating amongst themselves on who would brave the dark shop to check on the shop owner before he emerged. His silver hair was dishevelled, his clothes ruffled, and in his arms, he cradled a box. He looked at Hadrian, making the boy shiver. There was something truly unsettling about the man's eyes, they seemed to see more than was there.
For the first time since they had entered the shop the man hesitated. Hadrian felt a knot of nervousness settle in the pit of his stomach.
The old wand-maker began speaking, his voice halting, "There are those who say that certain woods shouldn't be used for wands – because of ludicrous ideas such as bad luck and such. This wand is made of such wood, Elder."
Hadrian felt the knot tighten and swallowed nervously.
"Rest assured that some of the wands you tested were made of the same wood." He was quick to add even as he brought the wand out. It was long, dark and slim.
"Thirteen inches, Elder wood and phoenix feather, an unusual combination. Unusual in that this is one of the few of such combination that I have ever successfully made." He held the wand tenderly almost lovingly and Hadrian had the feeling that the man despite his eccentricities put a lot of emotion into his creations.
Hadrian received the dark wand, almost reluctant to do so, he needn't have. Warmth; like standing in the sun after being in a cold room – the feeling tingled up his arm and suffused his body, from his left hand that held the wand to the top of his head and tips of his toes.
His magic, which had almost always been raging under his skin, rushed up and into the wand connecting with its core. He let out a pleased gasp and the wand let out a brilliant shower of gold and silver sparks. Hadrian turned to look at his family, his face sporting a stupid grin. He turned to look at the wand-maker. The man tilted his head, a thoughtful expression taking over his features.
"Curious."
"What's curious." Dudley piped up from the back.
Ollivander's strange eyes didn't move from gazing at Hadrian. The air felt charged and the room felt stuffed. Something pressed against them, a force unseen but powerful bearing down on them, Hadrian could feel it wrap around his shoulders almost luxuriating, the wand hummed in his hand and he heard a faint echo of song whisper in his ears.
"The phoenix who gave that feather in your wand also gave another feather. That feather became the core of the wand that gave you that scar." Ollivander gestured to the hidden symbol on his temple.
Aunt Petunia let out a horrified gasp. Ollivander brought up a gnarled finger and ever so gently brushed Hadrian's fringe away, exposing the lightning shaped scar for but a moment.
"I shall watch your progress Mr Potter. The Dark Lord did great things, terrible things yes, but great nevertheless." The man then straightened up and Hadrian could suddenly breath again.
"That will be seven galleons for the wand, I also offer wand holsters for three." He said it all with a beatific smile.
They paid the ten galleons and left the shop and soon after Diagon Alley. The trip to Surrey was taken not in silence but with bursts of conversation mixed in with pangs of awkward silences. The whole trip, Hadrian held onto his wand, enjoying the warm feeling it gave him, his magic seemed to purr in content, all the while he felt a faint echo of birdsong. It felt like the final piece to a puzzle he had not known he was solving.
It felt good having a wand, he could now appreciate why Professor McGonagall had always been reluctant to have him use her wand. Despite this newfound bliss, Mr Ollivander's words lingered at the edge of his thoughts, whispering and teasing; The Dark Lord did great things, terrible things yes, but great.
Was he destined for such things?
A/N: A wand made of elder, yikes. I bet you're probably thinking Deathstick blah blah blah. But honestly that is not it; I have been on Pottermore looking up stuff and an article about wand woods fascinated me. After coming to grips with it well, i just couldn't see my version of Harry using Hazel, just no.
So far the response to my story has been nice, it's been favorited and followed and I certainly appreciate that. I got my first review, sucks that you were a guest and I cant give a proper shoutout but still; your review was motivating. When I saw the follows, the favourites and the review, it really pushed me and i had a bout of inspiration. You'll see the results in the future, I'm rather proud of it. Anyway Read and Review. Enjoy
Edited 22-05-2024
Fixed paragraphs and some dialogue