A/N: Please note that the following story contains adult themes, including sexual content, non-consensual themes (which at times includes briefly referenced threats towards minors), consensual underage sex (brief and non-explicit), alcoholism, depression and suicide.

I would also like to credit The Parting Glass by StopTalkingAtMe for the heavy inspiration taken, I highly suggest you check it out as it is, in my opinion, criminally underrated.

Mirror, Mirror

Part I

In Search of Belonging

"In my experience, there is nothing more that Man fears than the unknown. And magic, Harry, is the same to muggles as what death is to Lord Voldemort."

Gellert Grindelwald - 1992

Chapter I

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 all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress"

Hogwarts Acceptance Letter, circa 1991

If someone asked me what the turning point in my life was, I'd quite simply tell them it was when I received my letter to Hogwarts. Is it a boring answer? Yes.

Am I lying? No.

You see, before I became...whatever it is the people around you refer to me as, I was first an orphan, a mistreated one at that. I won't get into the specifics now seeing as I most likely won't be going anywhere any time soon, (much to my dismay), and for the fact that my upbringing has been plastered over The Daily Prophet for years at this point. Regaling you, my dear reader, with my childhood sob story would be a waste of time for the both of us. All that you need to know is that my Hogwarts' letter was my way out of an abusive household, my lifeline so to speak.

So, where else would I start but the very night that I received it?

Despite my world renowned occlumency, and my formidable experience in its sister art, my memories of that night and much of my life before Hogwarts are spotty to say the least. After all what mage or magical creature would hang onto the memories of being raised among muggles. (I would also like to add that the mind is fragile, mine especially so, and any attempt to bypass the various mental blocks that reside within my mind would most certainly end in disaster.)

However, I do remember most of that night vividly, how could I not? It wasn't every day that a half-giant caved in the front door of your cottage that was situated on an isolated rock, damn near in the middle of the ocean, delivered you a cake and a letter, bent your furious uncle's shotgun into a pretzel; Then to top it all off magically attached a pig's tail to your horrid cousin's arse, who before all this had spent most of his life terrorising you. Well, to put it simply I was entranced.

Looking back on it now, I probably should have been more hesitant to clamber onto a rickety rowboat with a complete stranger. Who moments earlier had broken down my door and handed me a letter that claimed I was, in fact, a wizard. But to be completely honest with you, if he was in fact a lunatic who wanted to harvest my organs, it would still have been a preferable fate than having to spend seven more years with the Dursley's.

But I digress.

Hagrid, (I learned his name during the awkward introduction he gave me while the rowboat slowly propelled itself to shore.) spent the journey answering my many questions about what the fuck was going on, specifically where on earth I was supposed to acquire and pay for the foot long list of supplies that was mentioned on my Hogwarts letter. He was surprisingly patient, telling me that we were headed to a purely magical community called Diagon Alley and that my parents had in fact not left me completely destitute. (Quite the opposite in fact).

It was during this impromptu interrogation of mine that I finally decided to ask about my parents, as one naturally would. After all, the only mention of my parents was the occasional scathing comment left by Aunt Petunia after she had one too many glasses of wine and was feeling particularly vindictive. Just earlier I had learned that my parents were in fact not killed in a car crash of all things. (To think I believed those lies, even now, makes my blood boil.) But killed by a self-proclaimed dark lord by the name of Lord Voldemort. (My feelings on the man are mixed, while he did murder my parents, I wouldn't have achieved what I am today without his interference.)

It was unsurprisingly a lot to take in, after all I had all this dumped on me by Hagrid of all people, who had as much grace in social situations as he had in physical ones. I barely had any time to come to terms with what I learned before the rowboat beached itself in front of a quaint little cottage by the seaside. "Owned by the Bones." Hagrid assured me as we walked up the slope to the cottage door. "The righ' sort o' wizards they are." What he meant by the 'right sort' is obvious in hindsight, but I must admit I had no idea what he meant by that in the moment.

After knocking on the door so hard I feared he would send it flying off its hinges, it was opened by a rather imposing middle-aged witch with a ponytail tied so tight I feared at any moment it might decide to tear itself off her scalp.

"Hagrid." She said curtly. "I wasn't expecting you."

"Ameila." Hagrid said, awkwardly shuffling slightly. "I was wanderin' if me an' Harry 'ere could nip in and use yer Floo?"

He finished his sentence by jerking his bushy head in my direction, it was only then she took her stormy green eyes off Hagrid and regarded me for the first time. She stared at me for a while before her gaze rose and focused on just below my hairline, or rather the obvious lightning bolt shaped scar that marred my forehead.

Her eyes imperceptibly widened. "Of course." She said, pausing for a moment to compose herself. "But make it quick, I was about to set off for the Ministry."

She opened the door and gestured for us to come in, I couldn't see but I could imagine the beaming look Hagrid gave her before he hunched over slightly and went inside. I followed after him quickly, not wanting to be left behind with the intimidating witch.

While the outside of the cottage looked small and humble the inside was anything but, I stared in awe at the high ceiling and the lacquered wooden walls that proudly stood. Portraits were spaced intermittently along the walls, the occupants of said portraits all bearing a strong resemblance to the woman who let us in.

"The Floo is in the dining room." She called out from behind us. "Go through the doors to your left."

I trailed after Hagrid who opened the doors and led me into the room. "Ah there it is." Hagrid exclaimed loudly, gesturing to a fireplace of all things. "We'll get to Diagon in no time."

"Er, hello?" A voice said to our right. "Who are you?"

It was only then that me and Hagrid realised that there was a small girl sat by the dining table, and by the looks of things we had just intruded on her breakfast.

I was saved from an awkward introduction when Ameila followed in behind us. "This is my niece, Susan." She said gesturing to the girl, she shared a striking resemblance to her aunt, only that her face was softer, and her red hair was a touch lighter.

"Susan, this is Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys at Hogwarts." Hagrid gave her an enthusiastic wave. "And this." Her lips twitched as if suppressing a smirk. "Is Harry Potter."

I jumped slightly as a fork cluttered loudly against the plate, I looked at Susan, feeling more than slightly uncomfortable as both her hands were now covering her mouth, and she was staring at me through wide eyes.

"Hello?" I said tentatively, eyeing her with mild concern.

She gave out a strange sound that was probably supposed to be a greeting but came out more like a choke, before hurriedly standing up and fleeing the room.

Hagrid let out a loud guffaw. "Yeh better get used to tha' Harry." He said, slapping me on the back hard enough to make me stumble. "There isn' a wizard in Britian that doesn' know yer name."

My eye twitched. You see when Hagrid mentioned that I was famous on the very uncomfortable boat ride to the Bones', I assumed he meant the type of famous that a washed-up celebrity might be, like the ones that were plastered on the horrid excuses for magazines that Petunia would read. Not that I would be so famous that the very sight of me would send people my age into paraplegic shock. (I hate, and always will hate, that I can't take so much as a shit in public without a horde of The Daily Prophet reporters descending upon me because apparently my skull was thick enough to deflect a killing curse.)

"That's enough Hagrid." Lightly chided Ameila. "I'm sure Susan just forgot something." I'm unsure if she was defending Susan, making fun of her, or subtlety telling us to hurry up and get out of her house. Knowing Ameila though it was probably the latter.

Hagrid just laughed to himself again and grabbed a fistful of a green powder from a large vase planted next to the fireplace. "All yer gotta do Harry." He said waving his fist about slightly. "Is make sure to pronounce where yeh want to go properly, else yeh'll end up somewhere completely different." After imparting that piece of profound wisdom, he hunched over, shuffled awkwardly into the fireplace, raised his fist and threw the powder by his feet. And after shouting "Diagon Alley!" He was gone, consumed by green fire and probably burnt to ash.

I stared in horror.

"He didn't explain it to you, did he?" Ameila sighed from behind me. "Little surprise there." She grumbled to herself before gesturing towards the vase. "Just grab a fistful and do as he did." She said, giving me a soft push on the back.

I did as she said, very hesitantly mind you, and stood in the fireplace trying to convince myself that I wasn't standing on Hagrid's cremated remains. It wasn't working very well.

"You'll be fine." Amelia assured me. "It's not much different from apparition, only that the wizard who invented it had a flair for the dramatics." I had no idea what apparition was either, but as I saw it, she had no reason to lie to me.

While I was bracing myself for possible incineration she asked me a very valid question. "How is it possible that you've never heard of the Floo?" She asked. "It's impossible to miss and your guardians must have explained it to you at some point."

"I only learned about magic today." I said, confused at the sudden look of shock she sprouted. "I had no idea any of this even existed, I lived with my aunt."

"I see." She said, valiantly trying to look like she wasn't absolutely gobsmacked by the revelation. "Well, that explains it." She shook herself off and gestured to the powder. "Just remember to pronounce it carefully and you'll be fine."

I eyed her warily before deciding that if she wanted me dead, for whatever reason that may be, there would be far simpler ways of doing it. After all its not like Hagrid, being far more familiar with this than I am, would incinerate hims-… I decided right then that he very well might have, and that my faith in Hagrid's abilities wasn't particularly high. (They still aren't in case you're wondering, how that man made it to adulthood is beyond me.)

I decided to bite the bullet however and wing it, against my better judgement at the time I admit, but standing awkwardly in someone else's fireplace holding nothing but green powder is unsurprisingly a bit strange, even for me.

With one last sigh I hefted the powder up in the air and threw it at my feet and spoke. "Diagon Alley." In a masculine and level voice, I'm not quite sure why you would think the opposite dear reader. (Ameila still swears that my voice reached a pitch so high, it damn near shattered a glass on the table.)

I didn't see much on account of having metaphorically welded my eyes shut. So, you could probably quite easily see why I accidently tackled a girl who must have just left the Floo as soon as I appeared.

Imagine this, you're a young pureblood witch who has probably been vibrating with excitement since she received her Hogwarts letter. You've been practically raised on stories about Hogwarts and how exciting it is to study there, so when the day came to head into Diagon Alley and get a taste of the wonders you'll soon experience, you probably think to yourself that nothing could ruin this day. Hell, it could start raining cauldrons and half your family could be bludgeoned to death for all you care. Nothing, and I mean nothing could possibly ruin your day.

Now, still imagine that you are still that witch. You are? Good. I would like for you to imagine a sense of wonder as you look upon Magical Britian's largest enclave and think about how excited you are to finally be a member of this world, all the possibilities that reveal themselves to you, why they must seem endless-

now imagine a sudden jolt from behind and the feeling of your face meeting the cobblestones at terminal velocity, you hit them nose first and it breaks on impact, blood splatters and you feel a tooth come loose. Before you can even comprehend what on earth just happened your head gets pushed further into the pavement by what can only be described as a muggle Victorian chimney sweep, who, finally seeing what a fuck up he's caused, jumps off you and top speed, causing your head to meet the stones for the third time that day. And without so much as an apology runs off further into the streets and disappears into the crowd. You're dazed, confused, in absolute agony and to top it all off your pristine white robes, which were in fact your best pair at the time, are now covered in a mixture of soot, blood and residue Floo powder. It is only then your mother, who was walking in front of you, only just notices you're missing and glances behind her to see you half unconscious on the ground looking like you went three rounds with a Cambion. She screams and you sigh, you just know you shouldn't have tempted Fate.

(In my defence, Daphne has always held that incident over my head and I have made up for it many times over. All water under the bridge, … I think?)

Back to the present, after brutally mauling an innocent bystander (Daphne insisted I add this.), I was luckily able to spot Hagrid quite easily thanks to his humongous bulk and I quickly hurried to his side. He was in a tense conversation with a man who could only be described as more bat than human, owing to the fact he was dressed in all black and had the pinched and beady face only a mother could love. (Assuming the mother had worse eyesight than me and ample time to come to terms with what she spawned.)

"Ah Harry." Hagrid jovially said, fully turning around to face me, consequentially hiding the man from my view. "I was jus' talkin' to Professor Snape here." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder where the man would have been, had he not moved to Hagrid's right for the sole purpose of glaring bloody murder at him. "An' it's 'bout time I handed you off to him, I wasn' even to supposed to pick you up see, its only that the last time I saw yeh, yeh were only a tyke this big." He spread his hands out to give a rough measurement of my size, which was absurdly large for a baby, but to a man of Hagrid's stature it must have been tiny to him.

"And look at yeh now." He said, and was he getting teary eyed!? "Nearly all grown up." I sure hoped I wasn't, I was still tiny for my age.

"As touching as this is." Snape butted in with a tone distasteful enough to curdle milk. "I'm on a tight schedule and I don't have the patience to be stood here wasting time on pleasantries." Always the charmer Snape, never met a more pleasant man.

Hagrid wiped his eyes before nodding. "Professor Snape has already been to yer vault." He told me. "He has the gold on him so don' worry 'bout tha'." With one finale sniffle he patted me on the back, which once again nearly brought me to my knees, before making his way to what I can only assume to be Gringotts.

Snape was eyeing me distastefully as soon as Hagrid left and wasted no time in waving his wand in my direction, I tensed, was he really going to murder me in a street full of people and for what I could see as no good reason at all!? Had I somehow offended the man to the extent that I put him into a murderous rage? My fears were unfounded however because instead of eviscerating me like I thought he would, he instead just vanished the soot off me that had clung to me since my mad dash from the Floo.

"Er, thanks." I said uncertainly, but before I could even get out the two syllables it took to say those words Snape had already turned a full one-eighty and was frog marching down the street.

I had to keep a steady pace to even keep him in my line of sight, much to my annoyance, and by the looks of things much of Snape's too.

I kept quiet and followed close behind the professor, thankful that his dour face alone was enough to part the crowds. Before long he led me to Callahan's Cauldrons and picked out from what I could see as a solid set of brewing equipment and, of course, a thick cauldron made of pewter.

He dumped the items in front of a startled cashier, and without wasting any time he reached into a pocket of his robe and pulled out a coin pouch, my coin pouch, and dug his grimy fingers into it before grabbing a handful of galleons and throwing them in the direction of the now mortified cashier.

I stared in morbid fascination as Snape levitated the items behind him and quickly left, his black cloak billowing dramatically after him. He did all this without uttering a word to either of us. I gave an apologetic look to the cashier before hurrying after the man, knowing damn well he would leave me behind.

Thankfully I didn't have to go far, our next stop was only a couple of shop fronts down and I was luckily able to spot Snape before he entered a store that would be easily missed if not for the large display of wands shoved up against its window.

"You will get your wand here." He told me as soon as I opened the doors. "I will acquire." His face soured as he said this. "Your other supplies, if I am not back by the time you find your match you will wait here and not move an inch." Without waiting for any acknowledgement on my end he strode out of the store, slamming the door behind him.

I stared at him through the window after he left, was he this unpleasant to everyone he met, or did he just immediately despise me the very moment he laid his eyes on me. (It was a bit of both in case you were curious, but mainly the latter.)

Before I could start to ponder what I could have possibly done to upset a fully grown man to this degree, a voice cleared itself behind me. "Ah, Harry Potter." Said a wizard who appeared to be in his late sixties, judging by his full head of grey hair and thick prescription glasses. "I was expecting you at some point today."

I was about to ask him how he knew my name and if he had been following me only to stop myself, it only just occurred to me that I had a massive identifier plastered on my forehead. "Oh, right." I said eloquently, eleven-year-old me was known for his oozing charisma after all.

Without any delay he immediately procured a wand from, well somewhere, and handed it to me with an encouraging smile. "Rowan and dragon heartstring, eleven and a quarter inch, supple." Before my hands even touched the damn thing he immediately yanked it back and eyed me, whatever conclusion he came to wasn't a good one because he shook his head and stored it under his desk and immediately pulled out a different wand.

"Elm and unicorn hair, ten and three-quarter inches, firm." I hesitatingly reached out for it, when he didn't immediately pull back, I gripped it loosely and gave it a hesitant wave.

For a second nothing happened, then suddenly, the wand must have decided that I was not even worthy to hold it because it then ripped itself out of my hand a flew back into its box.

And so, for next forty minutes this continued. Olivander, I learned his name during the animated but decidedly one-sided chat we had during the bonding process, was growing more excited rather than angry like I expected he would. A stark contrast to Snape, who arrived no more than ten minutes ago and already looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel.

"Mr Olivander, sir." I said, trying to peer past an impressive oak tree that sprouted from the floorboards. "Does it usually take this long?"

Rather than try to answer me through a tree he waved his wand, reverting the oak back into a stool. "No, usually it doesn't." He answered truthfully, for the first time sounding lost. "It is most unusual, but then again you are far from being usual yourself, Mr Potter."

Snape snorted loudly from behind me, but I ignored him. "Will one ever choose me?" I asked, my voice small. "You said the last one we tried should have been a match." The previous wand in question, a handsome holly and phoenix feather wand, did feel far more receptive to me compared to the whole host of other wands I tried beforehand. But there was some part in me that didn't quite match with it.

"I did believe that to be the one." He admitted "All though." Olivander murmured something to himself before disappearing deep into the back of his store. I took the opportunity to glance behind me at Snape, who looked to be attempting to set me alight with his gaze alone.

Olivander returned before things with Snape could get too awkward and placed a leather-bound box in front of me. "This is the last wand I could offer you, Mr Potter." He admitted. "I'm afraid if this one rejects you there may be a chance you'll have to settle for one of Gregorovitch's inferior creations." With a flourish he opened the box and offered me the wand inside.

Looking at it I was less than impressed, it sat in a faded velvet interior which did nothing to protect it from the passage from time, judging from its pockmarked and worn wood. However, despite that it was at some point a pretty wand, with its intricate woodwork and scaled grip. Yet it was obvious its best days were far behind it. "Snakewood and horned serpent horn, eleven and half an inch, unyielding."

With some mild trepidation I reached out and lifted the wand from its velvet interior and gave it a soft wave. Instantly I knew that this was the one, comforting warmth spread up my arm and something in my mind hissed its approval. (I now wish I snapped that fucking cursed thing in two the second I touched it.)

"Curious, most curious." Olivander said, eyeing me with such intensity that I shrunk back a little bit. "An interesting wand to bond with, I never thought I would sell a wand that I didn't make myself." He mused, his gaze never wavering. "I suggest you look into the history of the Ilvermorny founders, Mr Potter."

"I'm sure Potter will find the obscure history of a school a continent away absolutely fascinating." Snape ground out, looking thoroughly fed up with waiting. "How much is the wand?"

"Sixty galleons." Olivander replied, a brief flash of annoyance passing over his face.

I didn't quite know how much that was but judging from Snape's outraged expression and the fact the family before got theirs for twelve, I was confused as to why mine was suddenly five times more expensive. "Sixty galleons!?" Snape cried out. "I care little for Potter's finances-" Thanks Snape. "-But that is absurd."

"It's less then what I paid." He coldly replied. "If you knew anything about wand making you would have sold it for double."

Snape snarled and for a second I thought he was about to leap over the counter and throttle the wand maker, but instead he pulled out my pouch and emptied most of what remained onto the counter.

Olivander glanced at the pile and nodded before holding out the box to Snape who ripped it out his hands before roughly chucking it in my direction. I fumbled before catching it and followed the now furious Professor out. Before the door closed behind me Olivander called out.

"Remember what I said Mr Potter; the research may come in useful." I gave the man a hesitant nod before turning and following Snape down the cobblestone road.

We made our way deeper into the district and I nearly walked straight into the back of Snape as he suddenly stopped. He turned to face me and the trunk I only just noticed was hovering above him fell between us. "Everything you need is in the trunk." He said gesturing to the heavy trunk wrapped in plain black leather. "I gave Madam Malkin your measurements so expect your robes owled to you at some point tomorrow."

I didn't know how the man managed to get my precise measurements without me noticing and at this point I was too scared to ask. "Thank you, Professor." I said, relieved slightly that he soon would be leaving.

"I trust your guardians-." His lip curled in distaste as he said the words. "Can collect you at this point?" I instantly knew it was a rhetorical question judging by his raised brow and the implicit threat he was trying to convey through his gaze.

"Yes sir." I replied, knowing damn well that the Dursleys would be avoiding me like a leper if they could help it.

Snape nodded curtly and reached into his robes, pulling out my coin pouch, a key and a neatly folded train ticket. "Everything you need for the journey." He explained as he roughly handed me the items. "I suggest you don't lose the ticket, if you do don't expect anyone to come collect you, Potter." He eyed me with slight loathing. "You won't be receiving any special treatment despite your celebrity status." Without so much as a goodbye he turned on his heel and brisky walked down the cobbled streets and out of sight.

I stared in mild disbelief as the realisation hit me. Snape had left an eleven year-old, me, by myself in a crowded shopping district. I doubted even Vernon would do such a thing, not out of any misplaced affection mind you but more out of a sense of self preservation. After all who knows what sort of freakishness I might get up to, not to mention what the neighbours would think if he let his demented nephew run free. (I still despise that man with every fibre of my being.)

I stood still thinking for a moment, maybe if I retraced my steps I could make it back to the Floo and from there I could ask it to take me back to the Dursleys? Would it even work? I had no idea if it was connected to all the fireplaces in Britan or only the magical ones. But if I had to guess it would be the latter, the sheer carnage of wizards accidentally ending up in muggle's fireplaces would have shattered the Statue of Secrecy in a thousand pieces by now.

Still, it was better than no plan I supposed as I roughly backtracked my steps, even though the idea of willingly returning to the Dursleys was completely horrid to me, the thought of being homeless sounded worse.

I must have been too busy trying to decide if having a place to stay for the next couple of weeks was worth taking a frying pan to the skull because before I knew it the smooth and perfectly spaced flagstones of Diagon Alley became rough and uneven cobblestone.

When I looked around to finally take in my surroundings, I paled a little. Gone were the crowds and bright flashy storefronts, in its place all manner of buildings stood from the tall and spindly tower-like structures to the short and squat bunker inspired buildings. What they all shared was the fact that no, or in some cases very few, people were actually visibly inside them. Which confused me slightly, I didn't know much about the wizarding world at this point I admit but surely there should be at least a sizable amount of people around considering most parents were out with their children shopping for supplies.

I took a brief look inside the nearest shop window and that's when it hit me. The supplies on my Hogwarts letter appeared to be pretty standard things, robes, cauldrons, pointed hats and the like. At no point had it mentioned dried up severed heads which judging by the sheer array of them displayed in front of the grime covered window, is what this store specialized in.

I took a startled step back when one of them started talking, at least I assumed it was by the way its mouth started moving. That is when I noticed something move, and when I say something, I mean a creature more resembling a poor parody of the witch from Hansel and Gretel than anything even remotely human. So, when it turned its stooped neck and its yellow, pus encrusted eyes met mine, I ran.

I ran really fucking fast.

I must have made a comical sight thinking back on it, a slight boy who on first glance appeared no older than ten sprinting down the street, panic in his eyes and clothed in ill fitting muggle rags must have made quite the spectacle, especially since the fact that my trunk was trying its hardest to keep up with my rapid escape by wobbly flying through the air after me.

I took refuge in the first store that appeared to be open, which thankfully wasn't one that specialised in horrors beyond my comprehension but a nondescript, perfectly ordinary bookstore.

My relief was palpable. That was short-lived however as I felt a cold, slightly clammy hand clamp down on my shoulder.

"Lost, are we?" It asked.

I took a deep breath and calmly looked over my shoulder to address who had managed to sneak up on me. By that I mean I almost fainted in sheer fright and awkwardly swung behind me, which was probably meant to dislodge the grip that held me but only caused me to trip over my shoelaces and land square on my arse.

I looked up at the figure and squinted at the tall and pallid looking man that stood before me. The first thing I noticed was that this particular man must have spent more time locked in a broom cupboard than I have, because he was pale. Pale to the point that I genuinely wondered if he had gone through the same treatment as the dried heads from earlier, because it honestly looked like someone had hung him from his ankles and bled him dry.

You see my point.

It should come as no surprise to you then, that the first thing that came out of mouth upon seeing him wasn't really words at all, but more of a scream, sob, cry and a shout that mixed together to form what I could only describe as the mating call of a mentally disturbed Blast-Ended Skrewt.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." The man said sheepishly, stepping closer to me so I could see him better through the dim light. "Its just I'm not used to, well, people your age coming into my store of all places." Looking at him more closely, I could see the honesty etched onto his face.

"It's okay." I said, unsure if I was reassuring him or myself. "I just didn't notice you was all."

The relief on the man's face was earnest. "Let me help you up." He offered, stepping forward to offer me a hand.

I warily eyed it for a second before ultimately deciding that if this man wanted to do me harm, he would have done so already. I took it and he lifted me up with surprising, but reassuring strength. "Thanks." I said, more of a reflex than anything else, I took time in the brief lull in conversation to glance around my surroundings.

What I saw pleasantly surprised me, I'm not sure what I was expecting to be honest but the neat and orderly rows of various books, tomes and scrolls that sat lovingly arranged on solid but worn oak shelves wasn't what I had envisioned. Despite the heavy curtains that covered the windows, a comforting glow permeated throughout the building as a whole courtesy of the magically floating orb of light that softly glided around the upper rafters. Overall, the place had a lived in and cosy feeling to it, immensely strange for a place such as Knockturn Alley, but a welcome change none the less.

"Can I ask what brings you here?" He hesitantly said after the pause in conversation dragged on for a little too long.

"Oh, I'm not here for anything in particular." I said awkwardly. "I'm just-." I stopped myself there, how was I supposed to explain what on earth I was doing? 'Oh I'm sorry, I was running away from something I may or may not have seen in a shop window, I'll be on my way now.' Seemed ridiculous. "-Browsing?" I offered him, my voice trailing off slightly.

It was obvious that he didn't believe me, but taking pity he must have decided to humour me. "Ah, I see." He spoke. "Well, I'm afraid if you're looking for any of the Hogwarts books you won't find any here." He said, probably meant as more of a polite way of saying 'I don't sell Dark Arts books to children, now if you'll gracefully leave my store I'll be greatly obliged.' But being the absolute fool that I am, I made a mistake.

Little did I know this mistake would be one that I was glad to make.

"What do you sell then?" I asked him, scuffing my heel awkwardly on the wooden floor.

I could hear him sigh quietly. "Nothing that would be of use for you just yet." He said finally. "But judging from your clothes, I can only assume that your family don't frequently travel within Knockturn?"

He was referring to Dudley's hand me downs naturally, which did very little to dispel the notion that I was some poor, lost Muggleborn.

"No, they don't." I admitted, both in regards to the Dursleys who would sooner spend the day in a high security prison then even a minute in Diagon, let alone Knockturn. And my parents, who I knew very well hadn't moved from the same patch of dirt in the last ten years.

The man seemed to want to sigh again but restrained himself for my sake. "I assumed as much." He said. "But I still have something to offer you, if you are still interested that is."

Seeing me nod he travelled not far from where we were stood and plucked a slim book off the bookcase. "Most kids read this before Hogwarts." He admitted. "But it's a good base to learn from if you're going into this blind."

He handed me the slim leatherbound book, I flipped it around in my hands marvelling slightly at the bold silver words that floated around the cover. Moon and Stars: An Introduction to Intent Based Magic. It was rather on the nose I admit, but I suppose now that was the point.

"It touches on the foundations of a lot of the material that I offer." He explained to me. "While all of it is Ministry approved-." I missed the dark look that likely passed over his face. "-Some more Light aligned families likely wouldn't approve of its contents."

I didn't quite know what he meant by that, but I nodded all the same before slipping the book inside my trunk. "How much do I owe you?" I asked, suddenly realising that I in fact had to pay for things.

He shook his head and held his hand up. "Take it as a gift." He said kindly. "And if any of it resonates with you, visit me next summer." He added with a slight bit of unsure humor. "And maybe buy an extra book or two to repay me."

I smiled earnestly and bowed my head in thanks. "Thank you-." It then suddenly occurred to me that I didn't know his name. "I'm sorry, but I haven't asked you for your name." I said, suddenly feeling very embarrassed.

He blinked as if that thought just occurred to him too, it made me feel marginally less like a fool. "My name is Calvin, Calvin Lacroix." He said offering me his hand.

I shook it quickly before replying. "Harry Potter." I offered, surprised at his sudden uncomfortable expression.

"It's good to meet you, Mr Potter." He finally said after an uncomfortable silence, as if he couldn't quite believe the words coming out of his mouth. (Not to blame him mind you, I was essentially public enemy number one when it came to darker enclaves like Knockturn Alley.)

"But I believe it's time you get going." He carried on, trying valiantly to make it seem like it was an everyday occurrence that the Boy-Who-Lived dropped in for a visit. "Your minder must be worried by now."

I was about to correct him by saying that I was in fact by myself, but common sense must have won out at the last minute. "Ah, of course." I said instead. "Say, could you point me in the direction of Diagon Alley?"

He stared at me in mild disbelief. "I would imagine it's the same way from which you came." He told me, judging by the sheer confusion on his face it wouldn't have surprised me if he pinched himself in the off chance he was dreaming.

I nodded sagely. "Of course, of course." I waited for a second. "Which way would that be?"

This time he didn't bother to suppress the palm that met his forehead, or the loud groan that escaped his lips.

A/N: So there it is! The first chapter has been written down after it took me an embarrassingly long time to do so.

I'm not sure what tone I want to stick with just yet, as I'm sure you noticed with the kind of sporadic pacing. But I am enjoying the challenge of just winging it.

Next chapter won't be for a while as I'd like to be a couple of chapters ahead of whatever I release in case I need to edit a plot point or such.

If you could take the time to leave a review, I would be very grateful.

See you in the next one!