章 251: HpMM36-50
Chapter 036
On the other hand, she was intrigued. What could possibly be so important that he would ask her to swear a magical oath before they had even brokered an agreement?
It was her curiosity over that single question that ultimately won out.
"Very well," Andromeda replied as she took out her wand and placed near her heart and prepared to speak her oath. "I will need to know who you really are before I can take the oath."
"Right," Harry sighed, slowly raising a hand to pull down the beanie. His messy black hair fell free, the lightning bolt scar on his forehead showing prominently between choppy strands of raven-colored hair. He looked at the now shocked Andromeda with a slight smile. "My name is Harry Potter."
It took the woman a few moments to regained her wits. She recovered from her shock much faster than he expected her too, and before long was exuding the same aura of professionalism she had before finding out his real identity.
"I can see why you want to remain anonymous. I do not know why you are here, Mr. Potter, but I am sure there would have been an entire article speculating about it in the Daily Prophet by tomorrow morning should the knowledge leak."
"You are correct about that," Harry told her with a nod. She was only half right however, as it wasn't that Harry wished to keep what would happen here a secret, just that he wanted
to be the one in control of when everybody learned of what took place this day. "Can you take that oath now, please? I would like for us to get down to business."
"Of course," Andromeda cleared her throat and once more pointed the wand at her heart, before reciting her magical oath. "I, Andromeda Tonks, do hereby swear on my magic to keep all the secrets of Lord Harry James Potter and uphold his confidentiality to the highest degree before, after and during the course of our business. So mote it be."
A brief flash light emitted from her wand, letting the two know that the oath had taken hold. Setting her wand on the table, Andromeda folded her hands in front of her on the desk.
"Now then, Mr. Potter, perhaps you can explain to me what it is you need a Solicitor for."
Harry nodded and reached into the small nap sack he was carrying on his back. Andromeda raised her left eyebrow when he placed a book on the table. It was one of the many books about him, this one was dubbed, Harry Potter and the Princess' Curse.
"I have just recently discovered that this book along with sixteen others were released between the years 1984 and 1989," Harry began, taking a moments pause to regain control of the anger he felt. Even now it was difficult not to be angry about this. "These books are completely false. I do not know what the wizarding world assumed I was doing or where I was after Voldemort's (Andromeda flinched at the name but Harry ignored her as he continued) demise, but the truth of the matter is that I was living in the muggle world with my mum's relatives, and have only rejoined the magical community a short while ago. I did not even know these books existed, much less given the people who published these stories permission to use my name in their work."
Another pause followed as Harry took a calming breath.
"These books are not the only items that bare my name on them," Harry continued softly. "I've found everything from action figures, to brooms, to advertisements, all of which have claimed that I endorse their products."
"And you want to take legal action against the companies that have used your name without your consent," Andromeda said, getting a nod from the young man. She leaned back then, letting her posture relax slightly and folded her hands in her lap. "This is a very unique situation you have found yourself in, Mr. Potter. If the person presenting me with this case were anyone other than yourself and a few other people, I would not be able to do much."
"Because of the publishing law of 1955, right? The law that states 'all stories used for entertainment purposes need not contain factual information or require consent of the person or persons in question,'" Harry said, surprising Andromeda. He smiled at her.
"Don't think I didn't come to you prepared for this. There is a reason I waited so long after entering the magical world before I scheduling an appointment with you. I've done extensive research on all laws pertaining to the problem I am presenting to you."
Gathering her wits about her, Adromeda said, "if you have studied all of the laws, then does that mean you know of the one pertaining to the heirs of pureblood families?"
"You mean the pureblood media protection act of 1743, which states that 'without documented proof that could be verified in front of the entire wizengamot, there can be no slander or misprint of information about a noble, pureblood family.' This law also implicitly states that it is impossible to use the name or image of the person in question without their express permission to do so, so long as they belong to a pureblood family that has been given the title of a Noble House."
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Chapter 037
"Yes, back then the newspaper media was much smaller than it was today and did not have much control over the population as it does now. Of course," Andromeda added after a moment's inflection, "back then the newspaper was used for keeping people updated on current events, not entertainment like it is today. At the time there had been an article written about a scandal that involved the pureblood scion of a Noble House. The pureblood was outraged and had managed to gather like-minded individuals who believed in pureblood superiority by claiming 'if it could happen to him, what's to stop the newspaper from running other pureblood names through the mud as well.' Needless to say, the newspaper was hit hard, and the pureblood media protection act was put in place shortly after."
"Yes, I am well aware of that act," Harry told her. "That's why I came to you, because unlike a muggleborn or half-blood who does not belong to a family of any esteem, I happen to be the heir to the Potter fortune, one of the Five Founding Families who had a hand in creating the Ministry of Magic. Even though I am technically a half-blood, the laws behind the pure-blood protection act apply to me because I belong to a powerful pureblood house. And not only am I the heir to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, I am also the boy-who-lived. My fame combined with my title would make it political suicide for anyone to go against me."
"That is very true," Andromeda said as she studied the boy with a curious gleam in her
eyes. "Even without an airtight case, you would still likely win due to the political minefield simply from being the boy-who-lived, and that's not even going into the public outrage those companies would face when it is learned they have been wrongfully using your name. This case is easily going to be the biggest one I've ever seen, and the only question I need to ask now is what you want to get out of it."
"What do I want?" Harry closed his eyes as he parroted the question. "Personally, what I want is for those companies who have used my name to be sued for every single knut they are worth, publicly disgraced, and cast out on the street in rags." He told the woman with complete, brutal honesty, getting Andromeda to raise both eyebrows in surprise, most likely at the harsh punishment he wanted for those using his name. "But we both know that such a thing isn't possible, even with my fame and fortune. And doing that would not only put the people up top out on the streets, but also those working under the people who used my name and image without consent."
Harry would not let innocent people who were only doing there job get caught up in his desire for revenge. Doing so would put him on a level lower than the Dursleys, and he would never again allow himself to stoop so low.
"Instead, what I am thinking is that we sue them for sixty-five percent of the profit they have made off my name and image. I doubt we'll get the full sixty-five, but if we start off big we can probably end up with somewhere around forty percent of the profit. I also want thirty percent of the revenue any company makes for selling anything that has been making money off my name, which we will not negotiate with them on. Also, all the companies who wrote those books about me will write a public apology that will be put on the front page of the Daily Prophet, stating that the stories are not true and were merely written for entertainment purposes. Furthermore, I want the companies that have published these books to sign a magical contract stating they will no longer make any new stories about me, unless I give them my consent."
As Harry began listing all of the things he wanted to accomplish with this lawsuit, Andromeda's eyebrows had been steadily raising higher and higher, until they completely disappeared behind the bangs of her dark hair. It seemed she had not been prepared for just how much thought Harry had put into his plans for suing the people who had used his name.
She recovered quickly, however, before he had gotten halfway through his list, and had since been dutifully jotting down everything he said on a muggle notepad. When Harry finished, she went over everything written down, carefully clarifying certain points with Harry before she was satisfied.
"I believe that everything you have asked me to accomplish is doable," Andromeda told him, much to Harry's secret delight. "Were it anybody else I would say this lawsuit didn't stand a chance, but since it's you, it is not only very possible, but very likely that we will
win. Especially if we threaten to take this all the way up to the Wizengamot."
Harry leaned forward eagerly. "How long do you think it will take for the lawsuit to go through?"
"That would depend," Andromeda said slowly, leaning back in her chair. "The first thing I will need to do is research to find out which companies have been using your name and image. You may not know it, but Britain is not the only country in which your name is famous. While You-Know-Who did not do much terrorizing outside of our country, he was still feared in every country that holds a seat on the I.C.W.. There has to be at least a hundred companies that have used your name to turn a profit in some way."
"Another problem is that you are a minor. You may be the heir to an Ancient and Most Noble House, and you may be the boy-who-lived, but that does not change the fact that you are a minor who has no Magical Guardian. It won't change the outcome of our case," she assured Harry when he began to frown. "But it will take a little longer before I can present the case before the court. There are legalities that I have to go through in order to get permission from the Ministry, which will take even longer if you want to keep yourself anonymous until our case is presented."
"I can see how that would cause a delay." Harry grimaced. He'd not thought of the legalities involved. "How long do you suspect it will take?"
"I would hazard a guess that it will take about a year all things told," she informed him. "I should have all of the information regarding the companies we plan on suing within six months, and then another six months to turn that into an airtight case they have no chance of escaping from without agreeing to your demands."
Thinking over what she had told him, he nodded, "that's fine. I can wait." It was slightly annoying, but he didn't want his lawsuit to gain any hitches down the road because he was impatient and overzealous.
And it wasn't like Harry couldn't wait, wasn't there an old saying 'good things come to those who wait?' All it would take was a little patience, something he had an abundance of.
"Excellent." Andromeda smiled at him. "Now all we need to talk about is your payment. I will need a deposit of one-thousand galleons. This is simply for the time I'm going to be putting into your case. Consider it a down payment for services rendered. If the case itself is successful, which I have no doubt it will be, the required payment will be fifteen percent of what we get off the lawsuit. This does not include the money you would make after our successful campaign; just the percentage of what they pay up front. Also, I will need you to sign a magical contract stating your agreement for our deal."
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Chapter 038
Closing his eyes, Harry took a moment to think about her required payment. Truthfully, he thought it a good deal. If the companies made even half of the money off him that he thought they did, then it was very likely Harry would be making well over several million galleons off this lawsuit. However, he was a bit leery of signing a magical contract, which would bind his magic to the contract so he couldn't break it without losing his magic.
Still, Andromeda had already given a magical oath—freely at that. In the face of her doing that for him, how could he doing anything less?
"Do you have the contract written up?" Harry asked, eyes snapping open, his sharpened gaze landing on her.
"Not right now," Andromeda admitted. "Because all cases are different, all of our contracts are written differently. I can write one up for you to read over in a few days, however."
"That sounds agreeable."
Harry pulled his money pouch out of his backpack and retracted the necessary funds. He placed the money on the table in front of Andromeda in neat stacks.
"Thank you for your time, and for agreeing to my request for a magical oath before even hearing my desired case," he said with a bow of his head. Andromeda smiled.
"You're welcome. To be honest, it's no trouble at all. Aside from my dislike of people who are willing to use a child's name for their own gain, I dislike the fact that they are using your name even more. While I did not know either of your parents very well, as I was a few years ahead of them at Hogwarts, I did consider them to be friends of mine. I was greatly saddened when they... past on."
At her words, Harry's look turned a bit uncertain. "Speaking of family, do you think I could ask you something?"
Andromeda looked curious at his words and his sudden change in demeanor, but nodded nonetheless. "Go ahead."
"Forgive me if this is a little personal but... do you know a man by the name of Sirius Black?"
The surprise she exuded was far more pronounced when he spoke that name than anything he had said thus far. Andromeda's entire body seemed to stiffen and her eyes went wide as saucers.
"How..." The dark haired woman choked for a second before finding her voice, though when she spoke, it was very hoarse. "How do you know that name?"
Harry squirmed at her look. He'd not been sure what to expect when he brought this up, having pretty much asked his question in a bout of spontaneous curiosity due to her odd familiarity, but whatever he'd been expecting, it was not the sudden wave of emotions she unleashed upon him. The heartrending sadness, the deep seated anger of betrayal, or the gaping sense of loss that Harry could feel coming from the woman made him flinch.
"I found my mum's journals in her vault when I went to visit it," Harry answered softly. "She spoke about Sirius Black; she wrote that he was my father's best friend, and had formed a group with my father and two others called the Marauders."
All of this was the truth, of course. Harry had found his mother's journal, and it did talk about Sirius, his father, and the Marauders. However, he had known about these things long before finding his mum's journal. His parents had spoken about their Hogwarts days a lot, and Harry had met Sirius Black on many occasions before he and his parents went into hiding.
"I have a few pictures of them, my parents and their friends I mean, and you look kind of similar to Sirius. Same general facial shape, similar eyes and the same hair color. When I first saw you, I thought you might be his sister."
"You're close," Andromeda admitted with a sad smile. "Sirius was my first cousin back when I was still a Black."
"Still a Black?" Harry asked, furrowing his brows. Andromeda looked at him for a moment, as if deciding what she should tell him, before nodding.
"Yes, you see, I used to be Andromeda Black before I got married. Now, while I would have still been considered a Black if I married a pureblood, I ended up falling in love with and marrying Ted, whose muggleborn. My family is one of those who believed in pureblood superiority to the point of hating muggles and muggleborns without justification or cause. Upon discovering my nuptials with Ted they, in a fit of rage, disowned me from the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black."
"I'm sorry," Harry said softly after she finished speaking, feeling ashamed of himself. Was he really this insensitive? "I shouldn't have asked such a personal question."
"No, no, it's fine," Andromeda assured him. She wiped at her suspiciously wet eyes, then offered him a small smile. "I can understand your curiosity. Out of all my family, Sirius was the only one who kept in touch with me after I was disowned. We had always been close; I was even closer to him than I was to my own sisters. I was... very shocked to hear about his betrayal of your parents."
A prominent frown grew on Harry's face. He had learned from his books that Sirius Black was the one who had betrayed his parents to Voldemort. Nowadays the man was suffering in Azkaban Prison, the wizarding world's most notorious prison due to the 'jailors' there.
If Harry were completely honest, he was not sure what to think. When he had first learned that Sirius had betrayed his parents, he couldn't believe it either. Out of all the people his parents knew, Sirius Black had been the one who visited them the most before they went into hiding. Even now after learning of the man's betrayal, Harry still fondly remembered the mischievous man who often received more lectures from his mum than even his dad did.
Unfortunately, he also had no proof that the man was innocent. His mother's journal was mostly filled with her time at Hogwarts, and only touched what happened after they all graduated very briefly. Harry assumed she had simply stopped writing once she and his father had entered the war.
"So was I," Harry said, fighting down his own emotions. Clearing his mind with a simple breathing exercise, he looked back at the woman. "Thank you, I know it was rude of me to ask you something so personal, and it must have been even more difficult to tell me this."
Smiling at the polite young man, Andromeda shook her head. "It wasn't that difficult. In fact, it feels kind of nice to be able to unload on someone. I love my husband, but he didn't have any connections to Sirius like I did, and he had never really liked the man after getting strung up by his underwear during one of the Marauder's pranks."
Harry snorted a bit as his mind conjured an amusing image of Theodore Tonks in nothing but his boxer shorts as he was hung off a flag pole. Dispelling the image with a small shake of his head, he decided that there was one other thing he wanted to ask of the woman.
"So you're also a member of one of the Founding Five, then?"
"I was." Andromeda put an emphasis on the 'was' to signify that she was no longer of that House.
"Right, was." Harry nodded, not really finding an issue with her not being in that family
anymore—not for what he wanted to ask. "Does that mean you were taught pureblood customs, etiquette and traditions?"
"Yes..." Andromeda replied slowly, her eyes searching his, no doubt trying to ascertain where he was going with this.
Harry gave her a charming smile. "In that case, I was wondering if perhaps you could help me with something else besides my lawsuit case?"
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Chapter 039
Harry woke up with rays of sunlight shining in his eyes. After blinking several times for his eyesight to adjust, the young 11-year old looked around and saw that, much like he had suspected, he was laying on the couch in Lisa's living room.
Also, much like he had expected, Lisa was still with him, curled up like a cat as she lay on his chest. Her arms were wound tightly around his torso, preventing him from moving much. Despite how the girl was a heavy sleeper, even the littlest of movements seemed to make her tighten her grip, as if she knew he was trying to escape.
Somehow, despite the fact that Harry had expected to find himself in this situation, he was still surprised. It had been a long time since he and Lisa had fallen asleep together. The last time it had happened was when they were nine. The Dursleys had gone on vacation to Italy and he had not been allowed to go with them.
In an act of incredible kindness, Anastasia Crawft had offered Harry a place to stay, since he would have otherwise been forced to stay with Mrs. Figg, a strange old lady who owned several dozen cats. The first night he had stayed over, Lisa had them staying up well into the night watching movies of all kinds—mostly Disney movies—and the two of them had fallen asleep on the couch together.
That was also the first time he had woken up to find Mrs. Crawft taking snap shots of him and Lisa, to frame them on a wall that had many other pictures of Lisa—mostly baby picture—which she showed to her guests.
Lisa had never been more embarrassed in her life, or so she always told him.
Harry noticed that someone had put a blanket over them sometime during the night. He
suspected Lisa's mum to be the culprit as the television had also been turned off.
Thinking of how Mrs. Crawft had most likely come in last night to cover them with a blanket reminded him of how he had been convinced to stay over for the night by Lisa. Yesterday had been the last day before he left for Hogwarts, which he had told the Crawft's was a very prominent boarding school in Scotland.
They had accepted his words without question—Harry suspected magic was involved somehow—and his friend had all but demanded he stay with them for the night. The two of them had then proceeded to stay up late watching movies, before falling asleep together on the couch like when they were younger.
Harry had to admit that even to this day he was not sure how he felt about waking up to find himself being used as a giant teddy bear. Uncomfortable because of how close this girl was and how deceptively strong her grip seemed, or warm because this girl, who was the closest thing he had to a sister, cared for him so much that she would stay up late just to be with him for as long as possible before he went to Hogwarts. He supposed it was a mixture of both.
Harry carefully shifted in the girl's grip, ignoring the way her arms tightened against him, then proceeded to gently tap certain points on her wrists and arms. The pressure points he touched caused Lisa's hold on him to loosen, and he swiftly removed himself out from under her and replaced his body with a pillow. Lisa frowned for a moment, no doubt sensing the lack of warmth the pillow emitted, but thankfully didn't wake up and just buried her face into the sack of feathers.
The first thing Harry decided to do after escaping was take a quick shower. Having stayed over at the Crawft's many times in the last three years, he had grown comfortable enough to use their facilities. These days Harry was practically considered a member of the family —even if Mr. Crawft didn't like him all that much due to how close he was to their daughter.
Absently, he wondered why Mr. Crawft disliked him so, but shrugged the thought off as the man just being an overprotective father. He had read about how some father's could get very protective of their children, especially their daughter's, though he couldn't for the life of him understand why. He would never hurt Lisa. Surely Mr. Crawft knew that.
Harry spent a good long while under the hot spray of the shower before actually cleaning himself off. By the time he was clothed it was nearing six a.m.. He could hear the sizzling of the stove and caught the scent of bacon wafting along the air. Lisa's mum was awake and cooking breakfast.
Moving into the living room, Harry saw that Lisa still had yet to wake up. The girl had changed positions and was now laying on her back. The blanket had been thrown off at
some point while he'd been in the shower, and one of her legs was dangling off the couch, while the other was raised up on the couch's arm. Likewise, her left arm hung off the couch while her right lay at a slightly awkward angle behind her head.
With a shake of his head, Harry walked past the couch and into the kitchen/dining room where he found Mrs. Crawft cooking what he had already deduced from the smell to be bacon, eggs and hash browns.
"Good morning, Mrs. Crawft," Harry greeted amicably as he walked up to her. "Do you need any help?"
"Good morning, Harry," Mrs. Crawft said with a smile. She did not seem surprised to find him in her kitchen at such an early hour asking if she needed help. Why should she? This particular scene had occurred so regularly whenever Harry slept over that it was practically tradition.
The smile soon turned into a pout, and Harry didn't even need to guess to know what was coming.
"Though I do wish you would stop calling me Mrs. Crawft. It makes me feel so old. Perhaps you call me Anastasia." The smile returned with a vengeance, only this time there was a teasing glint to it. "Or better yet, why don't you call me mum?"
And there it was. This was not the first time Lisa's mother had suggested he call her mum, and it would most definitely not be the last either. Within the last year alone, Anastasia had asked him to call her mum exactly 652 times, which was exactly 16 times more than last year. She seemed to be increasing the amount of times she asked him to call her mum every year since they had met—he suspected her reason was due to his less than desirable living conditions.
Harry resisted the urge to sigh. He didn't dislike Mrs. Crawft. Truth be told he was very fond of her. She was everything a mother should be in his opinion; kind and compassionate, yet also firm when needed, and wise in certain aspects of life. She also had a slightly mischievous side that came out quite often. Just seeing how Lisa had turned out showed how well the woman was at raising her child. He had great respect for the woman's abilities as a mother and truly appreciated the hospitality and acceptance she had shown him.
The problem was that Anastasia was not his mother. His mother had died tragically, nobly sacrificing her life to protect his. It didn't matter that he had only known his mum for a year; that year had been more than enough time that no one could replace Lily Evans in his heart. He loved his mother, for the life she had given him, a life he would not have were it not for her. Mrs. Crawft could not compete with that, no matter how much he liked her.
Still, that didn't mean he was going to be rude. Even if Anastasia Crawft was being serious and not just jesting, he did like and even appreciate her attempts.
"So, do you need any help with breakfast?"
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Chapter 040
Mrs. Crawft huffed a bit as Harry changed the subject, but decided not to call him out on it and instead went back to scrambling eggs. "Breakfast is almost ready so I don't really need any help here, but if you could set the table, that would be nice."
"Very well."
Harry knew where all the plates and utensils were, and he quickly and efficiently gathered the plates, forks, knives, and cups, and began arranging them on the table with four people in mind.
"Harry," Anastasia called to him. He looked over to see that she hadn't turned from her self-appointed task as she spoke. "I'm going to start putting breakfast on the table. When you finish setting the table, could you please go and wake up Lisa?"
"Sure," Harry replied, and after he finished his task made his way into the living where Lisa was still sleeping heavily on the couch. He noticed with some amusement that the girl's mouth was wide open and she had a small trickle of drool escaping the left corner of her mouth.
Harry knelt down next to the girl and began to gently shake her. "Lisa, it's time to get up." Despite his attempts it took a while before his friend actually began to stir. Lisa had always been a heavy sleeper. Her mother had once joked that the world could come to an end and she would probably sleep through it.
"Mmmmggggg..." Lisa let out a long, drawn out groan as her eyes began to open blearily. She was forced to shut them almost as soon as she opened them due to the light hitting her face. "Could someone turn that light off?" she asked, her voice coarse from disuse and sleepiness.
"Unfortunately the light you're talking about just so happens to be the sun," Harry
informed the girl. "Which, by the way, is impossible to turn off."
Lisa just groaned some more, turned onto her side, and tried to go back to sleep. Harry frowned as he realized that his friend was going to be stubborn this morning, and decided that more drastic measures were needed to wake her. Reaching out, he grabbed her side and gave it a light pinch.
This action earned a loud squeal from Lisa, who shot into a sitting position and jerked away from Harry. She rubbed the spot where Harry pinched her, glaring at the boy in question, who could only watch her in amusement.
"Breakfast is almost ready," he told her without preamble. "Your mum asked me to wake you up."
"Did you have to pinch me?" Lisa asked with a grumble.
"I probably could have found another way to wake you," Harry admitted with a shrug. "But this was the most expedient method." Lisa tossed him a glare. Harry matched her glare with a smile so bright it had to be fake. After a moment his friend grumbled about good for nothing best friends, causing him to chuckle.
"Did you wake my daughter up yet, Harry?" Anastasia asked as she stuck her head out of the kitchen door. "I thought I heard her squealing."
"I was not squealing!" Lisa said with a huff as her cheeks took on a slight red tint.
"Yes, she's awake now," Harry told the mother of his best friend. Standing up, he offered his hand to Lisa who, after several seconds of glaring at it, took the proffered hand and allowed him to pull her up.
They walked into the dining room to see that Mrs. Crawft had already put all of the food on the table. Both of them moved to what was essentially their assigned seats, Harry near the head of the table on the left side and Lisa right next to him.
"No need to stand on ceremony, you two," Mrs. Crawft said as she moved around the counter that separated the dining room from the kitchen, a pitcher of orange juice in hand. She filled their glasses with the freshly made beverage and beamed at them. "Dig in."
Not needing to be told twice, Lisa was quick to grab the large spoon stuck in the bowl of eggs and serve herself up. Harry shook his head at his friends enthusiasm, and decided to help her out a bit by setting several pieces of bacon and a serving of hash browns on her plate. When finished, he served himself with a much larger serving of food that had Lisa shaking her head at him in turn.
"I don't know how you can eat so much," she mumbled as she gave his plate the evil eye. "Especially when you're so tiny."
"I'm taller than you are," Harry grumbled. It was true that he was technically thin. While his body was layered with muscles that really had no right existing on one so young, they would never be very big. He just wasn't built that way.
"Besides, with all the exercise I do, as well as my martial arts and football, I burn a lot of energy. I need more food than you to keep my body going." There was another reason for his need to eat more, he believed. But it was something of an untested theory, and definitely not something he could tell Lisa or her parents, even if he did manage to find ample evidence to support it.
"Right, right." Lisa rolled her eyes as she took a fork full of eggs and put it on her mouth, chewing carefully before swallowing. "And just what do you think I do when I go to my dance classes? Sit there like a lemon and watch everybody else dance?"
"You're smaller than me," Harry argued, "much smaller than me. And I didn't say you were lazy. Plus, I'm a male. Generally speaking, the male body requires more sustenance than the female body. The theory is that..."
"I don't need to hear your technobabble," Lisa interrupted him, causing Harry to shrug indifferently.
"Then you shouldn't have said anything." Lisa grunted, but didn't reply as she turned fully to the task of eating. This kind of banter was nothing new. More often then not he and Lisa would trade barbs back and forth when they weren't engrossed in something both of them enjoyed. However, it rarely happened when they were eating sans dinner.
Harry knew why she was doing it, of course, and couldn't begrudge her for it. He felt much the same way she did. And so when she grew silent, he started up on another subject, forcing her to speak some more while they ate.
Sitting farther away at the other end of the table, Mrs. Crawft watched them with a sad smile.
The banter between the pair was interrupted when the door to the dining room opened and Mr. Crawft walked in.
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Chapter 041
Daniel Anderson Crawft was a tall man, much taller than most people Harry had run across. His dark raven hair with flecks of gray was cut to just below the chin and slicked back, giving him stylish yet professional appearance. Like his hair, his eyes were very dark. They were brown, but almost looked black.
He was also in decent shape for a man of forty, with a build that, while not athletic, was at least fit. Despite his age he looked rather young. The only signs of him getting up there in years being the distinguished looking gray hairs and the small age lines around his mouth and eyes.
"Ann, Lisa... Harry," he greeted as he marched into the room, straightening the tie to his business suit. Harry didn't miss the hesitation in the man's tone when greeting him. He was well aware Mr. Crawft didn't approve of how close he and Lisa were and it showed. The only reason he didn't say anything against Harry was because both Lisa and his wife would become cross with him if he did.
Daniel Crawft was a rather prominent business man, a manager at HSBC Holdings, and was very successful when it came to investing money in the stock market. It was actually thanks to him overhearing Mr. Crawft speaking with his wife about some of his investments that had gotten Harry interested in learning how to properly invest his money in the first place—not that he ever had enough money to invest until now. He was a business man through and through and, in Harry's opinion, not a very good dad.
That was not to say that Harry thought the man didn't care for his daughter, or that he was a bad person. Just that he focused more on his work than he did his family. The few times he did focus on Lisa was when they were having a... difference of opinion, which they had quite often, as Harry could attest to.
It was only during dinner that Mr. Crawft actually acted like a father towards Lisa, and Harry was almost positive that Mrs. Crawft was the largest reason for that. The woman could be quite persuasive when she wanted to be.
"Off to work so soon, dear?" asked Mrs. Crawft, pouting a bit as she watched the man grab a cup of coffee and a piece of toast from the toaster. This was as much tradition as her's and Harry's 'call me mum' moments. "And I went through all this trouble preparing a large breakfast to see Harry off before he goes to that boarding school, too."
"Sorry," Daniel replied, though Harry already knew the man wasn't. If anything, he was most likely relieved Harry was leaving.
Beside him, Lisa stiffened at the mention of Harry's school. He did his best to ignore that right now, knowing that bringing it up would only make the current situation worse.
The man of the house looked at him and inclined his head. "Good luck at your new school."
Well, at least that had been a sincere statement. If nothing else, Harry could count on the fact that, while Mr. Crawft may not like how close Harry was to Lisa, he at least respected him for his intelligence and drive.
"Thank you," Harry returned as Lisa's father kissed his wife on the cheek, before taking his leave.
Breakfast finished fairly quickly after that, and before long, Harry found himself standing in front of the doorway while Lisa and her mother stood in front of him.
"Are you sure you don't want me driving you to your relatives, Harry?" Mrs. Crawft asked him. Harry shook his head.
"It's fine," he said, "I don't have to be at the train station until ten, and it's still only eight thirty."
Mrs. Crawft sighed, but didn't argue with him. "Very well. I know you like your independence when it comes to these things." She leaned down and gave Harry a tight hug, which, after a moment, was returned. "Good luck at school. We'll miss seeing you around here."
"Likewise," Harry replied softly.
When the mother of one released her hold on him and backed away, Lisa walked up to him and stopped just short of being able to touch him. She bit her lower lip, and Harry could already see the tears barely contained in her eyes.
He knew this would be hard on her. Lisa had been his best friend for years; they had done practically everything together. Well, almost everything, and the idea that he wouldn't be around for an extended period of time no doubt hurt her.
Suddenly, Harry wasn't so sure going to Hogwarts was a good idea anymore. For a moment, he was tempted to forget about learning magic, if it would keep the only person he'd ever been close to from feeling so sad. Just looking at the girl as she tried not to cry made him feel like someone was trying to tear his heart out of his chest.
However, the feeling only lasted for a moment, before he strengthened his resolve. He needed to do this. Not just because of he was a wizard, but because of his parents. They
had spoken of Hogwarts so much when he was younger, about how amazing it was. The joy in their voices had been undeniable when they spoke fondly of their times at the school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry wanted to follow in their footsteps, to make them proud by becoming the greatest, most powerful wizard in the entire world. He couldn't do that if he stayed here.
In a rare display of open affection, Harry moved forward and initiated their hug. While he had never denied the girl physical affection—indeed, he probably allowed her to be more physically intimate with him than was proper for children their age—he rarely ever initiated such instances. He would go along with her because she meant so much to him, but it was always Lisa who started any contact between them.
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Chapter 042
If she was surprised by the contact she did not show it. She returned his hug fiercely, her arms wound tightly around his torso and she buried her face in the crook of his neck, while one of his hands slowly stroked her hair and the other rested against her back.
"Promise you'll write to me?" she croaked, and Harry could feel a few tears hitting the bare skin of his neck. He felt a moment of intense guilt threatening to overwhelm him, but reigned in it.
He also managed to reign in the suspicious moisture that gathered in his eyes. He would not allow himself to show weakness by crying. Especially not when his friend needed him to be strong.
"I promise," he whispered. He had actually spent quite a bit of time making sure that it would be possible to send her letters. He couldn't send Hedwig to her. While that wasn't quite breaking the law or jeopardizing the secrecy of magic, it would cause a lot of unwanted questions to be asked.
Fortunately, there was a way to send letters to non-magical people via the wizarding post office. Harry didn't know the mechanics behind it, but knew they had a way of transferring letters to a regular post office using some kind of magic. While it would be interesting to study at some point, at that moment, the only thing he really cared about was that it meant he could send letter's to Lisa.
"Everyday."
He chuckled, though it was lacking any humor. "I'll see what I can do."
Harry could feel her nod against his neck. For a moment, no one spoke, and the only sound were the small sniffles coming from the girl in his arms.
"I'll miss you."
Harry's arms tightened around the girl who was a sister in all but blood. Why was this so much harder than he thought it would be?
"And I you."
He carefully loosened his hold on the girl, his hands going to her shoulders. He pushed her back a bit, forcing her to let go of him. Giving the girl a small smile, Harry gently wiped the few tears that had fallen from her eyes.
"Try not to be too depressed, ok?" he said, trying to give her a smile he didn't feel. "I know it seems like a long time, but it won't be forever. I still get Christmas off, and I'll see you then."
"It seems like it's going to be forever," Lisa muttered, and Harry looked away uncomfortably. He wished he could make her feel better, wished he could say or do something to assure her that everything would be all right. That he could take away all the pain she was feeling, but there was nothing he could think of that would help in a situation like this.
Because even with all knowledge Harry gained, there were some things that you just couldn't learn from a book.
Because sometimes, the only way to learn is through first hand experience.
And unfortunately for Harry, this was one situation he had never been in before, and so all he could do was hope that things would get better with time.
The moment Harry arrived home, he received the very expected summons from his uncle.
"Boy!"
Sighing, Harry made his way into the living room where his uncle sat watching television. Over at the table, Dudley was scarfing down food like it would disappear if he ate too slowly, and Petunia flitted around her son heaping praises on how adorable he looked in his school uniform. It was a sight that Harry only spared a brief glance towards before focusing on Vernon.
"Yes, Uncle Vernon?"
The walrus of a man released a brief grunt, not bothering to look away from the news channel he was watching.
"Spending time at that trollop's house again, were you?"
Harry's fingers twitched as the desire to blast Vernon through a wall for insulting his best friend nearly overpowered him. He resisted, but only just.
The man seemed to be getting bold now that the day for Harry to leave had finally come. Harry could only hope Vernon Dursley would not be completely insufferable during the trip to King's Cross. At the moment, he wasn't all that sure if he could hold himself back from reacting violently. He still felt the keen ache from his goodbye to Lisa.
"What time do you need to leave?"
"As soon as I get packed we can go," Harry answered.
Vernon grunted. "Then hurry up. I don't have all day. I need to be at work soon."
Harry nodded, resisting the urge to roll his eyes, and made his way upstairs. As he closed the door to his room, he sank down to the floor using the wall to support his back and sat on his butt.
This day had started off much worse than he had initially expected. Everything was more difficult than he had assumed it would be. He had known that leaving his best friend would be hard, but he hadn't been prepared for how much it would hurt. His emotions felt raw, as if someone had peeled his carefully crafted defenses and then poured the proverbial salt over his open wounds. It was so bad that he had very nearly used his magic on his Uncle, something he had not done since he was seven.
Needing a moment to center himself, Harry forced himself to go through some light breathing exercises. It would not do for him to be an emotional wreck when he arrived at the Hogwarts Express. He needed to present an image of strength. He could ill afford to be seen as weak.
Thankfully, he had grown accustomed to meditating and didn't need much time to clear his mind and regain control over his emotions. It only took five minutes at the most, though it was the longest five minutes of his life.
His eyes were forced open when a pair of clawed feet landed on his left knee and a hoot garnered his attention.
"Hey, Hedwig." Harry softly stroked the snowy owl's feathers.
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Chapter 043
Hedwig gave him a hoot of concern, amber eyes staring into his green ones.
"I'm fine," he reassured her, only to yelp when she nipped his fingers hard enough to draw blood. "Ok, I'm not fine," he admitted with a sigh. "But I'll get over it, so you don't need to worry."
His reassuring smile didn't seem to work on the strange bird. Hedwig gave him a deadpanned look that somehow seemed to say 'it's when you tell me not to worry that I worry the most.'
Harry shook his head ruefully. He still wasn't sure how he could understand Hedwig so well, or how she seemed to understand him so perfectly. It was almost like they were reading each other's minds. Whatever the case was, Harry planned on looking up any information pertaining to their situation when he got to Hogwarts.
"I'm being serious, you don't need to worry about me," he told Hedwig as he used his magic to make the blood on his finger disappear. The wound had already healed over. "Change like this is always difficult at first, but I've read that the pain will eventually fade. And it's not like I won't be seeing Lisa again. You know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder."
Hedwig gave a hoot before flying off Harry's knee, allowing the young raven-haired boy to stand and begin gathering his belongings.
His trunk was already prepared; he had taken care of packing it two nights ago. All of his books were put away. Well, almost all of them. He did want some reading materials for the train ride to school.
His clothes were neatly folded and organized in the compartment he had made specifically for them, and the few possessions he wished to take with him were all packed up as well. There were only three items left that he needed to grab.
"Do you want to come with me when I get on the Hogwarts Express?" asked Harry as he moved over to his desk. "Or are you going to fly there on your own?"
Hedwig tilted her head from side to side in slightly jerky movements. Harry waited as his owl pondered the question posed. After a moment, she gave a hoot.
"Alright then." With a small gesture of his hand the window to his room opened up, allowing a small breeze to blow through. "Be safe while flying, I hear traffic's rough this time of year." Hedwig gave what pretty much amounted to an eye roll at his horrible joke, and with an affectionate nip of his ear, took off through the now open window.
The window closed behind the owl as if on it's own accord, and Harry grabbed one of the two items he had decided not to pack in his trunk. The item in question looked like two small straps of leather that ran parallel to each other, and were attached together by a small 'pocket' about as wide as his finger. Sitting inside the pocket was his mother's wand.
Leaning down Harry undid the clasp and attached the wand holster containing the willow wand to his left ankle. He watched with a smile as it's form shimmered in the light before wand and holster vanished. Truly, magic was a wonderful thing.
The next object was another wand holster, only this one looked much different than the other one. This particular holster had a small slice of leather for the wand to slide into, though it was nearly two-thirds longer, quite a bit wider, and was shaped like a rectangle, posessing a hard casing instead of the softer and pliable material used in the creation of the holster holding his mother's wand. This was because of the catch located near the front of the opening which, when released, would cause his wand to shoot into his hand. It was called a dueling holster, for obvious reasons, and Harry had spent much time simply practicing the motions of releasing and reloading his wand until he could do it with the same economy of motion used in hand-to-hand combat.
Carefully, he slid the holster around the wrist of his right forearm, then tightened the leather straps that kept it attached, and slid the sleeves of his long-sleeved shirt over the holster until just the tip poked out. With swift and sure movements, he released the catch, allowing the wand to shoot out at startling speeds. He caught it, and a smile came to his face as he looked at the wand that Ollivander had told him was his greatest work.
XoX
It was about a week after the first time he had been to Diagon Alley that he received a letter from Ollivander informing him that his wand was ready. As Harry entered the store, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The magic of this place was much more heady than the last time he had spent here, more potent. He wondered if there was a reason for this, but put the thought out of his mind and walked into the shop.
"Ah, Mr. Potter." Ollivander did not appear behind him this time, but rather, walked out from the door near the back. He looked tired, Harry noted. There were bags under his eyes, and his posture was stooped. Despite that, he also seemed very pleased with himself. The reasons of which soon became clear. "It is good that you are here, I have your wand all ready for you."
From within the old man's robes, Ollivander produced a simple black box. Harry waited on baited breath as the old man with silvery eyes opened it.
When the lid was pulled off, Harry saw his wand lying on top of a plush purple pillow reminiscent of satin. The wand was light brown, long, with a spiral pattern starting from the tip of the wand and moving down before it reached the handle, which was thicker than the rest by a few centimeters and had notched grooves Harry recognized were for his fingers.
Harry found himself transfixed on the wand as Ollivander moved closer. "Thirteen inches, made from the wood of an elder tree."
Elder tree, a rare tree found only in the most inhospitable regions. The wood from one made excellent wands, but was rarely every used due to their scarcity.
Ollivander continued. "Dual wand cores are used as the focus: the heartstrings of a Griffin, willingly given to my many times great grandfather. It has been dusted in ground dragon scales from a dragon whose very legend has transcended time, Odahviing." Ollivander's eyes held an intensity that Harry had yet to see in the man as he spoke. "This wand is powerful, very powerful, but also incomplete."
"Incomplete?" Harry's attention snapped away from the wand that lay in the box. As he looked at the old wand maker, his brow furrowed. Why would Ollivander call him here to inform him that his wand was ready if it had yet to be finished? Unless... "You need me to finish it."
"Indeed," Ollivander said, seemingly delighted that Harry had figured it out so quickly. "The three components I have used for this wand are all very powerful, incredibly so, but because of that, they are also unstable when used together. This wand cannot be used safely unless I have a powerful catalyst that can bind the wood and two cores together."
"Blood," Harry answered again. It was the only logical conclusion he could come to. Blood had power. There was a reason purebloods believed themselves superior to muggleborns, regardless of their inaccurate beliefs on heredity. "You need my blood. How much?"
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Chapter 044
"Enough to fill this vial," Ollivander held up a small tube-like vial about six inches in length and half an inch in circumference. Harry took it from the wand maker, and held it aloft to his eyes.
"I assume you have something I can cut myself with?" His question was answered when Ollivander produced a gleaming white dagger that shone in the light. Taking it from the wand maker, Harry sliced open the vein in his wrist and held the wound to the vial's opening as blood gushed out. When it was full, Ollivander healed the wound before Harry's magic could do the job, and took the vial from him.
"It will take me about an hour to perform the ritual that will bind the wand's materials to your blood," Ollivander told him. "You may wait right here, or come back later today."
"I think I'll wait here," Harry informed the wand maker, and with that he walked over to the spindly chair, sat down, and pulled out a book on potions from within his robes.
In turn, Ollivander flicked his wand at the door, changing the sign from open to close, and walked back through the door at the end of the room.
It was only half an hour later that Harry was forced to stop reading when the power coming from behind the closed door forced his attention off his book. Like a jolt of electricity racing across his skin, Harry could feel the magic in the air like an electric current. The atmosphere became filled with the heady scent of ozone, as if the magics within the shop were actually beginning to burn the stale air due to its potency.
Whatever ritual Ollivander was doing, it must be very powerful, Harry concluded.
The power surge lasted for a total of fifteen minutes before diminishing, and in another five it dwindled down to nothing. Harry stowed his book away and rose from his seat just as an exhausted yet elated Ollivander walked into the room.
"It is finished," the old wand make said, once more presenting Harry with the wand sitting in the box. It did not look that different from the last time he had seen, save for one exception.
Moving from the tip of the spire, down into the handle where they abruptly stopped, were
ancient looking symbols that he recognized as Norse and Anglo-Saxon runes. He saw Sowilo, the same rune that was carved onto his forehead and was associated with the god Baldur. There was also Uruz, corresponding to the god Thor and a symbol of mental and physical strength. Harry could see many others that he recognized from his studies of ancient Norse history; Naudiz, the rune of necessity. Tiwaz, the warriors rune. Ehwaz, the rune of momentum. Ihwaz, the rune of defense. Jera, the rune of success and continuity, and Dagaz, the rune of transformation. They moved along the spire, tiny black symbols of ancient runic language that continued in a string of combinations.
Harry had no idea what these runes meant from a magical stand point. He had only ever studied them from a historical standpoint, but he knew that these symbols of old had been written in his blood and soaked so thoroughly into the wand that they had become a part of the very grain of the wood.
"Go on." Ollivander gestured with the box, his voice a breathy whisper. "Take it."
Harry reached out, his fingers found purchase in the notched grooves of the wands handle, and he grasped it tightly.
A gasp escape his lips as a powerful current of energy surged through him. The runic symbols running along the wand's spire glowed a bright silvery green. Harry's eyes closed, and his body shuddered as his magic began to sing in harmony with the wood and twin cores.
He could feel them. He could feel the twin cores harmonizing themselves with him and the wood that made up his wand. He could feel the elder wood synchronizing itself with the cores and himself, becoming one with him in ways he had never in his wildest dreams imagined possible. It felt like a part of his soul was being restored to him, like a piece of him that had been missing for so long he never knew it was gone had suddenly come back. It was impossible for him to tell where he ended and the wand began.
If he had to sum up how he felt in a single word, it would be complete.
Harry opened his eyes and Ollivander actually took a step back in shock. His eyes were burning with emerald green fire, and the outer edges of the iris were lined with silver. The colorful irises bathed the room in light. His pupils were gone—no. Not gone. They had been replaced. The once black dots were now a bright silvery green that was only visible if one looked very hard.
The glow in Harry's eyes soon died down, and the power seemed to... not quite diminish, but more like it simply decided not to manifest itself for any longer. It disappeared within Harry and the wand, thrumming beneath the surface as it waited eagerly to be released again.
"That wand you have there is very powerful, Mr. Potter," Ollivander said softly. "It is the most powerful wand I have made to date, and now it will only ever work with you. No one else will ever be able to use it. Your wand is also unique."
"Unique how?" asked Harry, looking from his wand to Ollivander.
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Chapter 045
"Due to the way I had to use your blood as the catalyst that bound the cores to the wood, the wand has become intimately tied to you and you alone. Your growth as a wizard will be reflected by your wand. Whatever magics you excel in, your wand will be able to accomplish with ease. If you were to become a master in every single branch of magic, then your wand will excel in every single branch of magic. On the other hand, if you excelled at nothing, your wand will excel at nothing."
Ollivander gave him a slight smile.
"However, I believe that the latter case will prove unfounded. I expect great things from you, Mr. Potter."
Harry smiled at the man who had given him what was quite possibly the best gift anyone ever had, the lost piece of himself that he had never known was missing.
"I'll be sure not to disappoint." XoX
"BOY!" A shout from Harry's uncle interrupted the raven-haired youth's musings. "You'd better be down in five seconds or I'm leaving without you!"
Sighing, Harry made sure both wands were in place and that the holsters were secure, then grabbed his trunk and made his way out of the room.
He came downstairs to see Vernon Dursleys, his face the color of puce, glaring at him behind his bristly mustaches.
"About time you got down here," he grunted to Harry. "Well, get a move on. I don't have
all day."
His uncle must be feeling awfully bold to talk to him like that. Normally, the man would just ignore Harry to the best of his ability. It probably had something to do with the fact that they would not be seeing each other for nine months.
Harry dismissed those thoughts. It's not like it truly mattered. He would be out of their hair and they would be out of his soon enough.
"Very well, Uncle Vernon," Harry replied as he moved to the car, his trunk rolling behind him.
The trip to King's Cross was long. About an hour all told. Harry sat in the back of the car so he wouldn't have to deal with his uncle glaring at him, reading a book on magical theory.
He normally would've taken amusement in how twitchy his walrus of an uncle got at seeing the book, but right now he just wasn't feeling it. In fact, he wasn't feeling much of anything. Something he attributed to his recent inner turmoil from his goodbye with Lisa.
When they arrived at the train station, Harry got out, grabbed his trunk, and watched as Vernon sped off without even so much as a good bye.
Yes, the man truly wanted nothing more than getting Harry out of his presence for good.
Turning, Harry made his way into the train station. The place was very packed, with hundreds of people jostling their way through the crowded walkways. Considering how many people used the trains to get to work, it was to be expected, but that didn't mean he had to like it.
Harry wove between the crowd, making his way towards the platforms of nine and ten. His destination was marked by a big plastic number over platform nine, and another big plastic number over platform ten. There was nothing in the middle, nothing that could be seen at least.
XXX
Passing through the barrier that led to platform nine and three-quarters was an experience in and of itself. It felt like his body was being hit with a very mild electric current, not enough to be painful or even uncomfortable, but enough that the hairs on the back of his neck and arms stood on end. It was a most unusual experience.
While most people would never think twice about something like this—at least he assumed none of the witches and wizards who passed through here did—Harry couldn't help but wonder at the barrier. What was it? How was it made? Was it a gateway? Some
kind of passage that warped the boundaries of time and space to instantaneously take one to their destination? Or was it something as simple as an illusion that had been placed over the platform to hide it from the non-magical population? Harry promised himself that he would eventually find out and replicate the feat someday.
The feeling of amazement and wonder at the magical barrier soon left him when something else caused him to look around in awe.
On the other side of the barrier, signified by a large plastic sign, was platform nine and three-quarters. Everywhere he looked witches and wizards milled about, filling nearly every nook and cranny of space available. Families were giving tearful goodbyes to sons and daughters, and many friends who looked to be returning students chatted with each other excitedly.
Animals of all kinds roamed the platform as well. Harry saw everything from owls hooting in their cages, to cats prowling around the legs of people, and even tiny mice darting to and fro—some to try and get away from the cats—underneath the legs of students and parents alike. And sitting behind it all was a massive scarlet and gold steam engine many of the students were boarding, and a few already had and were poking their heads out of the windows to speak with their parents.
After taking a moment to take the sight in, Harry lifted his trunk, which now had a feather- light charm to make carrying it easier, over his shoulder and started off towards the train. He wove in between several people, gracefully sidestepping a pair of students, first years from the looks of them, that had nearly run into him. It wasn't long before he boarded the train, and after searching through the isles for an unoccupied compartment found one that he quickly entered.
Setting the trunk down on the floor, Harry smiled as he pressed the catch on his wand holster. The wand shot out, and in a smooth, practiced motion, he caught it by the handle, his fingers already resting within the grooves. As soon as his fingers were clasped around it fully, the runes on the wand started to glow a silvery green. The glow was very dull however, nowhere near as bright as when he had first gotten it. In fact, most would probably play it off as a trick of the light.
Harry was thankful for this, as he didn't want people asking questions about his wand when they saw it.
Pointing his wand at the trunk, he watched, his smile growing brighter by the minute, as it began to lift itself into the air. Using his wand to guide the trunks movements, he carefully stowed it in the compartment above the seats. He then sat down and reached into his pocket, where he pulled out a small book the size of his palm. A small wave of his wand later, and the book on magical theory enlarged to its normal size and Harry began reading.
As his eyes wove their way across the pages, memorizing everything they saw, his mind began wondering about the school he was going to, and the small part of him that was nothing more than an eleven year old boy couldn't help but feel excited about the coming school year.
What would he learn when he got to Hogwarts? What would his classes be like? What were the teachers like? The other students? Would he make any friends?...
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Chapter 046
He frowned a bit at that last thought, even as his fingers absently turned a page. Harry couldn't help but wonder where that thought had come from. He had never really been interested in making friends. Back when he was at the muggle school he hadn't seen any point in doing so. There simply hadn't been any benefit in befriending someone when he would eventually be living in a completely different world from them anyway.
That was not to say Harry was a loner. At first, he may have been, but about a month or two after Lisa had stormed her way into his life with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop, many of his peers began looking up to him. He guessed seeing him with Lisa made him seem more approachable. And while he still didn't particularly care for any of those people, Harry would not deny he enjoyed the admiration and respect they afforded him.
It had also helped him learn to interact with others. He knew that intelligence could only get one so far. If you didn't know how to talk to people, how would you get a good job? How would you make your mark on the world? How could you gain allies willing to rally behind you when you tried to make said mark? The answer was you couldn't. Thus, Harry had thrown himself into becoming someone the other students looked up to and admired, the kind of guy you wouldn't hesitate to come up to and ask for help or advice, be it for something as simple as school, or more complex problems dealing with life issues.
But now that he was going to a school where he would be meeting people like him, perhaps it would be a good idea to have friends. Real friends. People he could actually share things with, who would stand by him not because he was a leader they were rallying behind, but because they actually cared about him.
It was a childish thought, and Harry felt a bit embarrassed to even be thinking it, but could
not deny that the idea to have real friends was appealing. Because as much as he may love Lisa as the sister he never had, the simple fact of the matter was that she was not a witch. She knew nothing of magic, and as much as he wished he could inform her of its existence, knew that telling her, at least for now, would cause problems.
"Mom—geroff!"
A shout was heard over the din of noise from outside and drew Harry's attention to what looked like a rather large family of red heads. There were five in total: a plump woman with a pleasant smile on her face and motherly air about her, two older boys who looked like identical twins, a girl who looked to be around a year younger than Harry himself, and what Harry assumed was the source of the voice, a boy that looked to be around his age. He was very tall, maybe even an inch to two taller than Harry, and gangly. He had large hands and feet that looked slightly out of place on his body, and a long nose. Like the others, he too had bright red hair several shades lighter than Harry's mother's.
One of the things Harry noticed about the entire family straight from the get-go was that they seemed rather poorly off. The robes the three boys wore were worn and slightly ragged, probably second hand robes, and the trunks they were carried looked just as old. The family was probably having financial troubles. With so many kids, Harry could see why.
"Aaah, has ickle Ronnie got somefink on his nose?" asked one of the twins in a teasing voice. Definitely older brothers, Harry concluded, remembering how he had once read that older brothers often tend to tease their younger siblings. It was actually part of the reason he sometimes teased Lisa, because even if they weren't related, he wanted that brotherly feeling for himself.
"Shut up," the one Harry now knew as Ron groused. At that point Harry decided to stop listening—it was very rude to spy on people having what looked like a personal conversation between family, after all, and he didn't want to be like Petunia—and returned to his reading. To help with this, because even if he wasn't looking he could still hear every word being said, he put up a very basic spell on the window that muffled the voices outside. It wouldn't silencing them, but it would at least make sure Harry couldn't understand what they were saying.
It was several minutes after he had put up the muffling spell that the train started to move. Out of curiosity, he looked out the window again to see the mother of the boys waving, and the sister half-laughing, half-crying as she ran alongside the train.
For just a moment, Harry's mind superimposed an image of Lisa over the red-haired girl, and he once more felt the sting of unshed tears in his eyes. Gritting his teeth, he quickly looked away and was once more forced to meditate in order to calm down.
Leaving Lisa really was hitting him much harder than he thought it would. It seemed that,
for all the preparing he had done to make his leaving easier, none of it had worked. Even now he felt an immense sense of loss, a gap in his heart where Lisa's presence had once been, and even the knowledge that he would see her during Christmas didn't seem to help.
Harry really didn't like this feeling of loss. It made him feel weak, and he had no clue how to fix it. He only hoped this terrible feeling in his heart would fade soon. He wouldn't be able to accomplish anything if he was busy mourning the loss of Lisa's presence; a loss that was only temporary.
The door to his compartment slid open and Harry's head snapped up to see the youngest son of the redheaded family walk in.
"Anyone sitting there?" he asked, pointing at the seat opposite of Harry. "Everywhere else is full?"
"Help yourself," Harry said with a small gesture towards the seat, actually glad that someone had decided to sit with him. If nothing else, the red-haired boy would prove an able distraction from his depressing thoughts.
Ron sat down. Harry absently finished the page in his book, and closed it without marking the page number down. It wasn't like he needed to do so to remember where he left off.
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Chapter 047
He then turned to look at the redhead, who kept giving him curious glances before looking away, and opened his mouth to greet his fellow first year when the door to the compartment suddenly sprung open.
"Hey, Ron," one of the twins that had just barged into the room started. "Listen, we're going down to the middle of the train—Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."
Ron shuddered, "right."
The two twins than turned to Harry, a curious glint in their eyes. "And who is this?" the other one asked.
For a moment, Harry thought about giving them a false name. He had no real desire to have what happened in the Leaky Cauldron happen here, even if it was on a much smaller scale. But he knew that if he did give a false name, he wouldn't really engender himself to them. Lying to people never did. And Harry hated lying anyway. Deciding that it was better to simply get this over with now rather than later, Harry introduced himself.
"Harry Potter."
The reaction he got was almost as comical as it was expected and annoying. Three sets of eyes widened to the proportion of dinner plates, and three jaws dropped.
"Are you really?" asked one of the older boys, the one on the left.
"As far as I know," Harry replied coolly. He wasn't really sure what to expect, granted, he'd created several plausible scenarios for what would happen when he gave people his name, but that didn't mean any of them would ring true. If there was one thing his first entrance into the wizarding world taught him, it was to expect the unexpected.
"So do you have the scar?"
Harry looked at the one on the right, George, he was sure his name was. After several seconds of staring at him intently, which Harry was pleased to note caused the boy to squirm a bit, he lifted the bangs covering his hair so they could see the lightning bolt scar on his forehead.
"Wicked," both older boys breathed as they looked at the scar that had become a symbol to the wizarding people. The younger redhead, Ron, simply stared at him with an open jaw and wide eyes.
"Well," the one on the left, Fred, Harry was sure, said. "It was awesome meeting a celebrity and all that, but George and I are going to head over to Lee's compartment."
Harry sighed in relief as the two left. That hadn't gone nearly as horribly as he imagined it would, though he was displeased to note that, despite his appearance to the contrary, he had been quite nervous. It was to be expected, after all, as the last time people learned his identity he'd been mobbed before he could even get a word in, but that didn't mean he had to enjoy this feeling of anxiousness.
"So you're really Harry Potter then?"
Blinking, Harry turned to look at the boy who had finally managed to snap out of his stupor.
"I am," Harry replied, his voice a bit less tense than it had been as he relaxed into his seat. "And you are?"
"Oh, I'm Ron, Ron Weasley," Ron introduced himself, and while Harry didn't give any reaction other than to nod, on the inside his mind was already going over everything he now knew about the boy. Or, to be more specific, it was going over everything he knew about the boy's family.
The Weasley family, according to Andromeda Tonks, was a very poor pureblood family with a lot of children. They were considered to be something of a joke amongst the more fanatical blood purists, and many of those who were considered 'dark families' felt that they were a bunch of blood-traitors, people who had betrayed the purity of their blood by consorting and sympathizing with muggles and muggleborns. On the plus side, they were a well known light-sided family firmly placed in Dumbledore's camp, and were related to the Prewett's, a now extinct yet once very powerful Ancient and Most Noble House. The Weasley Matriarch was the last of the Prewett line, from what he knew.
Harry's mind was already working out the advantages and disadvantages that would come from befriending the Weasley family. The biggest benefit, of course, was that any who associated with the Weasley's, namely, any light-sided families in Dumbledore's camp, would be on his side. The downside was that it would make getting an alliance with the so called 'darker' pureblood families very difficult.
Of course, the same could be said for gaining allegiance with one of the dark side families, something he was well aware of.
"So that scar is where..."
Harry's mind shifted gears when he heard the boy speak. He focused on Ron, who he noted with some disdain was still staring at where his scar was hidden by his bangs. He didn't blamed the boy. Meeting Harry Potter on a train heading for school was like meeting Sean Connery in a muggle shopping center.
"Yes," Harry answered quickly in the hopes that doing so would get the boy not to ask anymore questions. Just because he understood the boy's curiosity did not mean he had any desire to sate it. The mere mention of his scar brought that night to mind, the night he had lost his parents. He had a hard enough time when he dreamed about it; he didn't want to force himself to relive it during the day.
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Chapter 048
Unfortunately, the boy did not seem to get the subtle warning in Harry's tone, for he was still gawking at the scar when he said, "Do you remember when...?"
"Are you asking me if I remember the night my parents were murdered?" asked Harry, his voice stone cold and his body stiffening in incredulity and anger. It was taking all he had not to snarl at the boy currently shrinking back in his seat.
Harry stood up and glared down at the redhead, his eyes glowing with fury and his fists shaking. While there were many things that upset him, very few could actually force their way past his carefully crafted facade. Of those things, bringing up the night his parents died was at the top of that list, as his Uncle Vernon once found out when he was thrown threw a window after stating that Harry's father was nothing but a good for nothing drunk who'd gotten him and his mother killed in a car crash. In fact, it had been that very statement that had caused Harry to become such an angry and violent person in his youth —or at least a big proponent of it.
"Where do you get the gall asking me something like that? How would you like it if your parents were murdered by a psychopathic killer and I asked if you remember that night?!"
By now the boy looked about to faint. His body was positively shaking, and his face had gone white. When combined with his wide eyes, Ron looked like he might die from a heart attack.
It was only in that moment, looking at this petrified boy, that Harry realized his magic was beginning to act up. The air was heavy with the smell of ozone, and the very potent feeling of anger. It was as if his rage was manifesting itself on the physical plane.
Taking a deep breath, Harry willed his magic back down, locking it away. The feeling soon vanished, and though Ron's body relaxed slightly, he still looked quite fearful.
Harry walked towards the door, wand already in hand as he jabbed it near violently at his trunk, which floated down beside him. Jerking the door open, he looked back to say, "I would suggest you learn some tact before speaking to me again," before walking into the hallway and slamming the door shut.
Releasing the magic holding the levitation spell, Harry's trunk set itself down on the ground, and he quickly lifted it over his shoulder and began marching down the hall. Many other students looked out their compartment doors when they heard the one Harry had slammed shut, but he paid them no heed. His mind was too busy trying to calm the tide of rage he felt.
How dare that ignorant, uneducated, tactless fool ask him such a personal question! Did the boy know nothing of manners? Even a child should realize such an obviously personal and painful question should never be asked to anyone under any circumstances! It was the most foolish and rude thing anyone could ever do, and a complete and blatant violation of privacy! That boy had seriously better learn some manners before they met up again, because if he didn't, then Harry would be sure to educate him, and it would not be pleasant.
It took a moment for Harry to notice that he was losing control of his emotions. Realizing that he needed to regain his bearings, he stopped walking and set his trunk down, then leaned against the wall and clenched his eyes shut, before beginning his breathing exercises.
It took him a lot longer than he would have liked to regain control over his anger, and he was disgusted with himself when he found that he still felt so angry. He should have better control over himself than this. He did have better control over himself than this. It bothered him that he seemed to be slipping back into his old self before meeting Master Wei.
Frowning, Harry dug deeper into his repertoire and used a advanced exercise for meditation, that being to find out the exact cause for his anger so he could promptly deal with it, rather then push it to the furthest recesses of his mind.
It was rather easy to realize the source of his feelings, or at least the reason why he was having so much trouble reeling them in: Lisa. Ever since their goodbye his mind had been a wreck. He kept conjuring the last image he had seen of her, shedding silent tears before running to her room, unable to look at him because of the pain his leaving brought.
Of course, that wasn't only the reason he didn't have as much control over his emotions as he should. That boy, Ron, had asked him what was quite possibly one of the few questions that truly angered him. That the red head had asked so tactlessly only added fuel to the conflagration.
It was one thing to be curious about someone who was essentially a celebrity in the wizarding world, it was quite another to allow that curiosity run rampant and bring up such horrible memories for the sake of satisfying said curiosity.
As his mind worked through his feelings, Harry's face began to relax. His scrunched eyes untensed, the crinkles surrounding them disappearing. After taking a few deep breaths, Harry let the anger he felt dissipate into the air.
"Excuse me, but are you alright?" a voice behind him asked.
Harry turned around to see a girl about his age with a lot bushy brown hair, brown eyes, and two large front teeth. She was already wearing her school robes, and seemed to carry herself with an inquisitive air. It was not hard for Harry to deduce that this girl was probably a bookworm. Currently, said bookworm's face was looking at him in mild concern.
"I'm fine," Harry told her. For a brief moment, he thought about giving the girl a smile, but only for a moment. He didn't think himself capable of smiling for a while yet. Instead he offered the girl a calm, if slightly neutral look as he addressed her. "Can I help you with anything?"
"Oh! Um, yes," the bushy haired girl said. "You see, I was wondering if you've seen a toad anywhere. Neville's lost his."
Harry tilted his head at the name Neville. He recognized it. Both his mum and dad had mentioned that their two friends, Frank and Alice, had given birth to a son named Neville around the same time they'd had him. He wondered if this was the same Neville as the one his parents spoke of.
"I'm sorry, but I haven't seen a toad anywhere," Harry informed the girl, whose shoulders slumped. Deciding to offer her some helpful advice, he said, "might I suggest speaking to one of the prefects and asking them if he or she can use the summoning charm to summon the toad?"
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Chapter 049
The girl blinked several times, then her eyes widened. It seemed she hadn't thought of that. Mumbling a hurried 'thank you,' the girl set off to search for a prefect.
That done, Harry made his way down the hall in search of a compartment. He quickly found out that there were no empty compartments. All of them had at least two people in them, and in some cases they were filled to capacity. He passed by several such compartments in his search, before eventually finding one that would suffice.
Knocking on the door, he managed to get the attention of the two girls within the compartment. One of them was a blond haired girl with pig tails, and the other a redhead
whose hair was a shade or two lighter than the Weasleys, running more along the coloration of his mother's hair. Both of them looked up when he knocked, and Harry opened the door enough to poke his head in.
"Would you two mind if I sit with you?" he asked, taking in more of their features. The blond girl had blue eyes and fair, unblemished skin, while the redhead had brown eyes and exactly seven freckles dotting her nose cutely. He couldn't see much more than that because they were wearing their Hogwarts robes, but even that was useful, as it told him they were probably raised in the wizarding world—or were very excited muggleborns.
The two girls looked at each other, before the blond looked back at him with a bright smile. "Not at all," she said, her voice just as cheerful as her face. "Come on in."
"Thank you."
Harry walked into the compartment, setting his trunk down before absently pointing his wand at it and using the levitation charm to put into its new place overhead.
Two gasps were heard before the voice of the blond said, "how did you do that?"
Harry turned to see two sets of eyes staring at him in awe. He blinked.
"You mean the levitation charm?" he asked for clarification. When they both gave him a nod, Harry shrugged. "It's just one of the first year spells that I read about in the Standard Book of Spells."
"That's so cool," the blond girl said. "I've tried doing some magic before as well, but I've never been able to get any of the spells to work. And you did it without even speaking!"
"Ah, well, I always felt that speaking a spell is more of a way of focusing, rather than because it's necessary," Harry said diplomatically as he sat down. Not wanting to speak about his skills in magic and possibly incriminate himself, he decided to switch topics. "I'd like to apologize for barging in here; I'm sure you two would rather be on your own."
"Oh, it's no problem." Once again the blond spoke up, waving her hand airily. Already Harry was beginning to notice the dynamics between the two. The pig-tailed girl was clearly the more talkative one. Meanwhile, the redhead was much more quiet and more than a little shy. Even now he could the way she would turn to look at him, blush, then look away. "But now that you mention it, why were you still searching for a compartment? The train has been moving for like, an hour already."
"Let's just say I ended up sitting next to someone who doesn't know the meaning of the word tact, and leave it at that," Harry said with a sigh. The two girls looked at each other, both probably wondering what he meant. Thankfully, they seemed to understand the
word tact better than Ron did, because neither of them asked for clarification, something he was very thankful for.
"I'm Hannah," the blond girl introduced herself after a slight pause. "Hannah Abbot, and the redhead with me is Susan Bones." Harry started at the name, recognizing it as one of the Founding Five families that had formed the Ministry. He also, thanks to Andromeda, knew that if this girl was a Bones, then she was also related to Amelia Bones, the current Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
"A pleasure to meet you," Harry said, taking the hand that Hannah held out to him. He brought her hand to his face and let his lips gently brush against her knuckles in the manner Andromeda had shown him was proper when greeting female witches. The blond girl, Hannah, blushed, and Harry turned to look at a blushing Susan who was already offering her hand to him, which he repeated the gesture. "And you as well." He took a deep breath, wondering if this would end in disaster. "My name is Harry Potter."
"Are you really?" asked Hannah while Susan's eyes widened. Harry flicked his gaze towards the blond girl for a moment, sighed, then sat back down after letting Susan's hand go. With his hand free, Harry brushed away the bangs covering his scar.
"This is so cool!" Hannah breathed excitedly. "I can't believe we're sitting with the Harry Potter!"
"I don't think meeting me is that big of a deal," Harry edged, just a little bit annoyed. He knew people were going to get excited when they saw him, but that didn't make dealing with it anymore comfortable.
"Not a big deal?" Hannah gaped at him for all of two seconds. "Harry, you're like, a wizarding celebrity! Everyone and their mother knows you. Not to mention you defeated You-Know-Who..." she trailed off when she saw the look on Harry's face.
"And all it cost me was my parents," he told her, his lips forming a thin line. He didn't look quite angered, but he was clearly agitated. And why wouldn't he be? So many people seemed to forget that his parents had sacrificed their lives for him that night Voldemort was defeated. Maybe he wouldn't have been so bothered by his celebrity status if his parents had survived, or if people actually took the time to think about how he might feel, but from what he had seen so far that wasn't going to happen.
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Chapter 050
"Sorry," Hannah mumbled lowly, his words seemingly sucking out all of her previous enthusiasm about meeting a celebrity.
"It's fine," Harry said. He knew he was being too hard on her—just as he'd been too hard on Ron. After all, who wouldn't be curious about him? It was just as Hannah said, he was a celebrity in their world. To top it off, the people on this train were children, tact and understanding weren't exactly concepts they were familiar with.
With a small sigh, he decided that the pair deserved an apology and explanation so they knew he wasn't actually angry at them.
"I apologize for snapping at you. The boy whose compartment I just left asked me if I remembered the night my parents died when he found out who I was." Both of the girl's gasps told him all he needed to know, and he offered them a small smile. He didn't quite manage it, his face making more of a grimace than anything, but it seemed to do the trick of putting the two at ease. "I didn't mean to take my anger at him out on you two."
"No, no, it's alright," Hannah said, shaking her head back and forth, her blond pig tails swaying behind her. "I can see why you were angry at me. I didn't mean to remind you of your parents death or anything. I was just so excited to meet you."
"I understand." Harry resisted the sigh wanting to pass his lips. "It seems everyone in the wizarding world is excited to meet me." Wanting to change the subject to something less personal, Harry switched topics. "So why don't you two tell me about yourselves?"
The conversation became much less strained after that. Harry learned quite a bit about the two girls he found himself sitting with. Both had apparently been friends for a long time; the Abbots were a minor pureblood family that were decently wealthy due to the wine vineyards they owned on the mainland, namely France and Italy, and had been allied with the Bones family for the last century.
Susan, he had learned, was indeed related to Amelia Bones, as he had first suspected. In fact, she was the woman's niece, and due to the fact that she and her aunt were the only members of the Bones family remaining, was also the heiress of the family. Harry knew right then that befriending them would prove advantageous for him in the future, if for no other reason than that.
He also learned much about the two as people. Hannah, for example, was very talkative and even more confident. She didn't have much trouble stating her opinions and wasn't shy about speaking her mind. Her friend Susan, on the other hand, was much more shy and soft spoken. She tended to let her friend do the talking, and the few times she did
speak it was with a light tinge of pink dusting her cheeks. Harry also noticed that the redhead couldn't seem to keep eye contact with him for more than five seconds, before averting them and her face would flush a deeper shade of red.
He wasn't quite sure what to make of that, but put it out of his mind for the moment.
More than what he had learned about the two with him, Harry was surprised to discover how easy talking with them was. While the conversation hadn't taken all of his attention away from his thoughts of Lisa, they had proven to not only be an able distraction, but the two girls were also quite pleasant to converse with.
A part of him chalked it up to them being girls. Since Lisa was not only his best, but also his only friend at the moment, and had been for over three years, Harry found it easier talking to the opposite gender. Another reason he felt his mind was so at ease among the two was because they were witches. He didn't have to pretend to be normal in front of them, and that simply made acting more natural easier.
"So wait," Hannah said as she chewed on a pumpkin patty Harry had bought for her from the trolly (he was a gentleman, after all). "You mean to tell me you didn't even know about the wizarding world until you got your Hogwarts letter?"
"No, I only knew the basics," Harry said as he looked over the card of Albus Dumbledore he had gotten from a chocolate frog. He watched the man with half-moon glasses, a long, crooked nose, and flowing silvery hair, beard and mustache disappear from inside of the picture frame, before turning his attention back to Hannah. "You see, my aunt, that is to say, my mum's sister, is a muggle, but because my mum was a witch she knew about magic. However, she only told me a little bit, so I didn't know very much about the wizarding world itself, just that it and magic existed."
"But what about all the stories?" asked Hannah, the expression on her face looking just as shocked as her voice sounded.
"You mean the stories about me fighting dragons and trolls, and adventuring through Africa while fighting against indigenous tribes and ferocious nundus?" asked Harry with a quirk of his left eyebrow. "They're all lies. I didn't even know dragons and trolls actually existed, I've never heard of a nundu before, and I've never even seen a banshee much less fought one. I didn't even know those books existed until I went shopping for my school books."
"But that's illegal!" Susan gasped in shock, right before she blushed when Hannah and Harry turned to look at her. Despite this, she managed to continue on with only a little bit of stuttering. "S-since you're the heir to the Potter family, it's illegal for them to use your name without your consent."
"I know," Harry said, giving her a thin smile.
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