Chapter 2 - The time he'll never get back
July 31, 1991
Ollivander's Shop, Diagon Alley
Ollivander flicked his wand towards the door and an old wooden board with the sign 'closed' levitated and hung from the outside.
"We're going to be here for a while, I'm afraid," he said, gesturing for them to be seated.
James and Oliver seated themselves on a stool near the counter while Lily stood leaning against the wall, too anxious to sit.
"Please, be steady," the wandmaker said as he pushed his hand into the back wall, the rune etched upon it now visible as it began to glow a deep blue. Lily put a hand on Harry's shoulder as she fingered her wand.
"What are y—" she began but the rumbling below the floor cut her off.
"There is no need to be afraid," the wandmaker said reassuringly, but his words fell flat.
A massive stone column erupted from the wooden floorboards, rising up into the air. It was almost six feet long and five feet across. The floor reverted back into its usual form as the column—what Lily recognized as a trunk—seated upon it.
He waved his wand and muttered something that made the top of the trunk to slide aside with a loud rumble, revealing a host of magically enlarged compartments.
Ollivander beckoned Harry forward. "Mr. Potter, if you could come here."
Lily reluctantly released her hold as Harry stepped towards the trunk nervously, glancing at its depths with a frown. It was almost big enough for two of him to fit into it.
"Please, hover your hand over this first row, here" Ollivander indicated and Harry did as he was bid, only to gasp as a flare of somethingmet his palm.
"What is that?" Lily asked sharply.
"Mr. Potter needs to feel for the wood that calls the most to him and his magic," the old wandmaker explained without removing his eyes from Harry.
"Harry?"
The eleven year old said nothing for a few moments and just as Lily was about to step forward to see what was taking so long, he spoke up.
"This one!" he said, happily. "It feels like a cold breeze on my hand. I like it."
Ollivander hummed, using his wand to carefully levitate the piece of wood out from the depths of the trunk to a separate flat sheet of wood on the counter. "Very good, Mr. Potter," he looked at Harry appraisingly, "Now, let's move on to the next row."
Harry excitedly put his hand over the next and soon he was directing Ollivander into picking up items from the next few rows of the massive trunk.
"Very good, very good," he murmured under his breath, eyeing the items on his sheet and consulting a parchment from his pocket. "I believe we're done."
Harry gulped as he looked at the strange pieces of magical materials, almost hating the fact that he knew so little about what was involved in the craft of wandmaking. Lily put a comforting hand on his shoulder, making him smile.
"Now what?" James asked, breaking the silence.
"Now you give me three hours to craft Mr. Potter's wand."
The wandmaker paid no attention to his customers as he picked up the items on the counter and walked through the open door on the farthest end of the shop, murmuring under his breath as he passed the Potters.
"Well," James injected with humour, "I guess we have some time to kill."
Oliver immediately turned to Lily. "Mum, can dad and I go to Quality Quidditch please?"
Lily looked at her husband who shifted on his feet without meeting her eyes, making her sigh. "You're only allowed to look. No new brooms."
"Alright, come on dad!" Oliver said, grabbing James by the hand and rushing out of the shop.
"We'll meet you in Ambrosia's for lunch, in say half an hour?" James said over his shoulder, making Lily roll her eyes and Harry snicker.
"Where do you want to go, Harry?" she addressed her other, calmer son.
Harry thought about it for a moment. "Can we visit the Magical Menagerie instead?"
Lily smiled indulgently, knowing that her son had no interest in getting new robes, since there were many new sets already at home from the fittings he and Oliver had done over the summer. "I suppose we can. Are you looking for a particular kind of pet?"
"I don't know," Harry shrugged as they were finally outside of the cool and stuffy wand shop, back into the warmth of the sun.
~~ .
"She's pretty, isn't she, mum?" Harry said happily, stroking the feathers of the beautiful snowy white owl perched on his shoulder.
"She's very pretty, Harry," Lily agreed, "You should give her a name soon."
"I will," he vowed.
Less than fifteen minutes ago, he'd entered the shop that housed the magical animals to lay his eyes for the first time on the rattling, caged snowy-white owl that now sat on his shoulder. For some reason, he'd felt an immediate pull towards her and asked the shop owner to immediately see her. The wizard had warned him against the temperamental owl who had scratched and chased away many of his customers but Harry had paid it no attention. He just knew, deep within himself, that she wouldn't harm him. Far from it, actually. She would look after him.
"Thank you for getting her for me, mum," he said with gratitude. Lily only ruffled his hair and lay a hand around his shoulders.
"Of course, hon," she said fondly as she directed them into the Florescue's ice-cream shop.
"Ice-cream before lunch?" Harry asked confusedly.
Lily grinned conspiringly. "If you brother and dad can stare at brooms all day, I'm sure we could have some ice-cream."
Harry whooped and skipped ahead and entered the queue of people waiting for their turn to order.
As they stood in line, Lily glimpsed ahead to see a couple of identical blonde mother-daughter duo in front of them.
"Lavinia?" Lily exclaimed, making the taller blonde turn and regard her with wide eyes. She quickly dispelled her glamour charm for a few seconds before putting it back on. It wouldn't do to get mobbed by the public who hadn't seen the Potters in almost a decade.
"Lily!" said the witch as she came to embrace her. Harry looked on in astonishment as his mother and the beautiful blonde woman began to talk. He'd never seen his mother be so friendly with anyone.
"My goodness! It's been so long!" Lavinia gushed and then made her daughter come forward. "This is my Daphne, she's starting Hogwarts this autumn."
"Amazing!" Lily said in joy, "I can't believe it. She was so little the last I saw her."
"It's been years, Lily," Lavinia said accusingly, "You disappeared!"
"I'm sorry, but after what happened with Harry and Oliver, we couldn't afford to take any risks," Lily said somewhat contritely.
Harry saw the two adult witches beginning to converse and his mother becoming more animated by the second.
The other witch—one that was of Harry's age—came forward. She had the exact shade of hair as her mother and had sparkling blue eyes.
"Hello," he said, trying to be friendly. He didn't know how to talk to anyone his age who wasn't his brother.
The witch, Daphne, had a frown on her face as she looked at him. "So you're Harry Potter, are you?"
"Yes," Harry said nervously. "It's nice to meet you, Daphne."
Daphne didn't reply, looking down at her fingernails instead. "You're the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived, huh? How was it growing up?"
Harry hesitated. "What do you mean?"
Daphne looked up, appearing bored. "Did he not take you on his adventures with him?"
Harry looked at her in bewilderment. "Adventures?" he parroted. "What are you talking about?"
Daphne huffed, turning her back to him. Harry glared at the rude witch. Just what was her problem?
As their turn for ordering the ice-cream came around, Lily ordered for the both of them and Harry forced a smile.
Sincerely hoping that not all kids he would meet at Hogwarts were like Daphne, Harry tried to put that encounter out of his mind as he let his mother and Daphne's mother—who was much friendlier than her daughter—regale him with tales of Hogwarts from their childhood. In that time, he even came to know that they had shared some classes, even if they were from different Houses and that is how they became good friends.
Twenty minutes later, the magical pager in Lily's pocket vibrated, and discreetly looking at the message from James, she made some excuses to usher themselves out of the ice-cream shop.
James and Oliver found them soon. Lily eyed the book in Oliver's hands.
"I found this. They've been printing these…novels without our knowledge," James indicated to the colourful moving drawings on the cover of the book Oliver was holding.
"The Boy-Who-Lived and the Hungarian Horntail?" Lily read with disgust. "How is this legal?"
"It's not," James muttered darkly, "I'm gonna talk to the publishers. I don't know what they've been thinking."
"All these years, they've been profiting off our names, haven't they?" Lily said knowingly, "without our knowledge."
"We weren't out in public for a while," James shook his head. "I have no idea what kind of rumours about us are afloat."
"Regardless, this is no laughing matter," she skimmed through the book. "Looks like a fantasy novel."
"There's more. Shelves full of it." James collected and shrunk the books to put in his pocket. "Looks like while the children are away at Hogwarts, I'll have some work to do with the attorneys."
With that, the Potters headed off to lunch, just as Harry finally realized what Daphne Greengrass had been talking about. She and her sister must've been reading this trash. He shook his head in dismay. He really hoped he and his brother could make some decent friends in Hogwarts.
But even if the worst did come true, at least he and Oliver would have each other.
~~ .
Later that afternoon at Ollivander's Shop
Harry found some furious anticipation building up inside him as the old wandmaker slowly unveiled the custom wand.
The wand was inside a rectangular case made up of some dark, heavy wood, and it made a deep sound as Ollivander put it on the glass counter.
"Behold, Mr. Potter, my greatest creation," he said softly and reverently, slowly opening the lid of the box, "Your new wand."
The wand sitting on a blue velvet cloth in the box almost thrummed with magic, making Harry reach out with his right hand to touch the handle.
As soon as he did, a spark, not of light, but of something akin to understanding, ignited within him. It wasn't a pleasant warmth, but a cold, sharp clarity that pierced through the familiar fog of his mind. Harry felt a strange kinship with the wood, a resonance with its hidden depths, as if the wand recognized a part of him he himself had only just begun to acknowledge. A subtle thrill ran down his body, making goosebumps arise on his skin.
Ollivander's voice was barely a whisper, his eyes wide as he gazed upon the wand in Harry's hand. "Yew," he breathed, the word itself carrying a weight of ancient magic and Lily and James almost stopped breathing. "A wood of power, of life and death…" He paused, his gaze flicking to Harry's face with an intensity that made him thrill. "The core… thestral hair. Rarer than rare, a substance that sings only to those who have truly faced the veil. And then… phoenix tears. Not merely a feather, but the very essence of rebirth, of magic stabilized beyond comprehension."
His eyes rose from the wand to meet the wizard that now wielded it. "In all my years, and in the generations before me, I have never encountered such a combination. This wand, Mr. Potter… this wand holds a destiny unlike any I have ever foreseen. My greatest creation, it is a wand of immense potential, capable of magic both breathtaking and, dare I say… terrifyingly profound. Treat it with the reverence it deserves, for it, and thereby you, have chosen a path that will surely shape the very fabric of our world."
The wand felt cool and strangely weighty in Harry's hand, its hue a deep, almost black shade that seemed to absorb the light around it. A faint, ethereal thrum resonated from within it, and an almost imperceptible warmth to Harry's skin as he struggled to put into words just how much his magic almost seemed to sing as he tightened his grip around the faintly ridged handle.
"Mr. Ollivander," James cleared his throat, "surely you must've sold some yew wands before?"
Ollivander nodded. "Of course, but this is not any yew wand, is it now?" his electric blue eyes glinted, "I've also sold many wands with thestral hair and phoenix tears before, but not together. Never together."
"Why not together, sir?" Oliver asked curiously, without taking his eyes off the wand.
"Thestrals are an embodiment of death, while phoenixes symbolize rebirth. They absolutely cannot and do not go together. And yet," he licked his lips, "Mr. Potter's magic has chosen them as one."
"Incredible," Lily breathed, "is this wand going to be very dangerous?"
Ollivander laughed. It was a full, hearty belly laughter making all the Potters look at him as if he'd turned mental. "Oh, Mrs. Potter, surely you jest. A wand, no matter how special, is only a wand. It can only be powerful or dangerous in the hands of a wizard with the power to wield, the skill to cast and most importantly, the will to conquer."
"You've been selling wands for how many years, Mr. Ollivander?" James asked.
"Fifty years," answered the wandmaker, "Even my grandfather didn't have the privilege of crafting a wand as unique as Mr. Potter's, and it wasn't for lack of trying."
A pause of comfortable silence descended upon them as Harry swished and flicked his wand and a short burst of fire — almost red and gold in colour like a phoenix's flash — erupted from the tip of the wand, making everyone but Ollivander gasp.
"That will be eighty galleons, Mr. Potter," Ollivander addressed James, breaking the reverie.
"Please add two holsters as well," Lily added.
"Good idea," James said as he selected two leather holsters for Oliver and Harry from the displayed bunch.
With the money paid and the wands kept safe within James' internal pocket for Oliver and Lily's bottomless purse for Harry, the Potters turned to go.
"I wish both of you the best," Ollivander addressed Harry and Oliver as they paused at the door, "I will keep an eye out for your achievements in the times to come. Particularly for the elder Mr. Potter."
The closed sign on the shop automatically vanished away as the Potters exited the eerie shop, weary but excited, this time headed straight for home.
~~ .
September 1, 1991
King's Cross Station, London
"Please mum, we're going to be late if you don't let us go," Harry cajoled as Lily smiled at him and Oliver for what felt to him like the hundredth time before hugging and kissing their cheeks. Every time his mum hugged him, Hedwig, as he'd named his beautiful owl, fluttered her wings and flew half a feet away from him and when his mum released him from the hug, Hedwig landed back on his shoulder as if nothing had happened.
This strange dance had happened so many times now that Harry was feeling both amused and exasperated. But Hedwig didn't seem to mind as she looked over at him with her kind eyes.
Harry didn't mind the extra kisses from his mum really, because after all, he was only going to see his parents after almost four months, straight at Christmas. Oliver, on the other hand, winced and scrambled to get away every time Lily so much as tried to embrace him.
"My boys are all grown up," she mumbled, her green eyes shining with unshed tears. Harry felt bad for her, but he didn't know how to make her feel better except promise to write more.
"I promise I'll write once every week, mum," Harry promised once again, "so much that you won't even have time to miss us!"
Lily laughed, wiping a stray tear. "Oh, I'll miss you anyway, Harry," she shook her head emotionally.
"Lily, let's help them get onto the train. We only have five minutes before the Express departs." James said as he looked about the almost empty Platform Nine and three-quarters. It had been his idea to be as late as possible to the platform so as to minimize the public exposure for both Oliver and Harry.
"Alright, alright," Lily murmured as she ushered their trunks towards the train.
"We can take them, mum," Harry said as he tapped his wand on his brother's trunk and then his trunk. "Feather-light charm for help!"
Oliver looked at him in wonder. "Wow, thanks! But couldn't you have done that ten minutes ago? I had to drag my trunk here all the way from the muggle station!"
Harry smirked. "You never asked."
"Prat." Oliver rolled his eyes.
"Okay, now listen here, you two," James said to them, looking serious, "look out for each other in school, alright?" he instructed. "You're brothers. Be there for each other."
Both Oliver and Harry nodded solemnly as they dragged their trunks over to the train.
There were barely any first years milling about in the corridor.
Harry turned to his brother. "The last one?"
"Sure, why not," Oliver shrugged as they began to traverse their way through the long corridor.
"Should we also check the other compartments as we go along?" Oliver suggested.
"Alright, but dad did say that the last one is always empty."
One by one, they began to slide open the doors to the compartments as they walked on, looking to find one that looked suitable.
Suddenly, the second to last compartment slid open with a bang, making Harry jump.
"Oi! This one's free if you wanna come," bellowed a funny looking red-haired boy who had a smudge on his nose.
His brother was already walking in his direction and Harry followed when a strange uneasiness, almost like a sense of doom washed over him and he paused.
The red-haired boy was looking at Oliver.
"I'm Ron. Ron Weasley," he introduced himself.
Harry didn't know what had happened but he could just feel that something was off. Like something bad was happening and he couldn't put a finger on it.
And yet, after shaking his head off to get rid of the feeling, he followed Oliver into the compartment after Ron Weasley and began to put their trunks above. He didn't know how to put words to that strange feeling so he chose to ignore it for the time being, trusting that, as his parents had told him, feeling some nerves on this day was quite normal and there was nothing to worry about.
~~ .
AN: Chapters 3, 4, 5 and 6 are already up for reading while Chapter 7 will be released later today, along with more of my work. The link is in my profile.