The Ghost

July 20th 1991:

Sometimes, when Charlus Potter slept, he dreamed of a boy with bored eyes and a sad smile and the books he had read in his alone time. He dreamed about the places from these books that this strange boy had read on his lonesome and he dreamed about the characters from these books. He dreamed of a school called Hogwarts, of his twin brother, of Diagon Alley, of a tournament, of an insane red-eyed serpentine man, and of so much more.

However, whenever he woke up, these details blurred in his mind and grew distorted and muddled up. There were some parts of the mysterious books he remembered outside of his dreams and other parts he had no recollection of. The aftermath of these dreams often left a pounding headache behind both of his eyes or at the back of his head.

Today he woke up later than everyone else in his house — number four, Privet Drive — like usual. Charlus shared a room with his brother Harry, though it was Harry who slept on the bed since Charlus preferred sleeping on the mattress on the hardwood floor. Their room was the smallest in the home. It had two desks crammed together in one corner and two small wardrobes sat in the second corner. The walls were chipped blue and had decrepit shelves attached to them.

Rolling off of his mattress in his dishevelled grey pyjamas, Charlus yawned into his hand and changed into a grey t-shirt and black trousers. Heading out of his room, he heard the sounds of a television broadcasting some animated TV-series about talking dinosaurs and a newspaper being combed through downstairs in the living-room.

Finishing his morning routine, Charlus descended into the hall. On one small rickety table beside the front door were the morning letters. Photographs of his paunchy cousin Dudley on his birthdays, first days of new school years, and any other important or insignificant occasion were hung up on the walls.

Charlus glanced into the opened doorway to the living-room on his way to the kitchen for breakfast and muttered. “Morning…”

“Wake up earlier, boy!” His uncle Vernon Dursley bellowed over the ruffling of his newspaper — the pot-bellied man had always disliked his lazy attitude and penchant for getting up late. “You don’t see Dudley stumbling out from his bedroom like some common drunkard!”

Dudley just grunted, otherwise ignoring him and sidling up even closer to the television screen. The tyrannosaurus rex in his program had transformed into a scalier version of itself with long jagged red wings.

The cupboard beneath the staircase was locked, Charlus glimpsed. His uncle Vernon and his aunt Petunia trapped him and his brother in it for hours if they had misbehaved at school or failed any exams. ‘Or whenever we perform our “freaky magical tricks”.’

Slinking into the kitchen, Charlus snagged his plates of toast and sausages. The toast crunched between his teeth and he peered out of the window into the back garden — where Harry was tending to some of the flowerbeds. Petunia was outside with him, hovering over his work and harrumphing. Charlus stared into his glass of water afterwards, lost in thought.

Again, he had dreamed about those strange books and their contents last night. It was unlike the occasional visions or dreams Harry had of a stream of green energy and an ache from the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. ‘They told us his scar was from some car crash, but I know it wasn’t.  It was that red-eyed man, wasn’t it?’

Other small details from those books about his brother’s life he had managed to remember were different. Neither Charlus nor Harry had ever slept in that cupboard underneath the stairs. It was a place they had only been inside of during time-outs. ‘The Time-Out Place.’

Eating the rest of his toast and the small sausages on his plates, Charlus drank his glass of water and cleaned them in the washbasin. Sunlight marked every shiny surface of the kitchen, soaking the room in low hues of yellow. Summer holiday had even started early this year — the primary school Dudley, Harry, and Charlus attended was going under a massive reconstruction and remodelling for the next month.

‘Stonewall High here we come.’ Charlus twisted his lips into a wry smile, heading out into the lawn and crouching down beside Harry. ‘Is what I would have said. Hogwarts will be an upgrade at least.’ He knew he and his brother were wizards — one time, Charlus had somehow enchanted his mattress to fly into the air. 

Petunia shoved gardening gloves and tools into his hands, then stalked off into the kitchen to read her morning magazines.

“I think you trimmed the wrong rose.” 

“Who cares?” Charlus paused for a moment, laughing. “Besides those nosy neighbors?”

“Aunt Petunia for one.” Harry elbowed him and focused on spilling manure along the flowerbed. “Don’t wanna end up sitting around in that cupboard for ruining her ‘perfect’ little roses, do you?”

“Of course not.” Charlus looked amused. “She'd kick us out into the garage if we did that. But I think the garage would make a comfortable bed-room, don't you? Not like there's much space for the two of us in our bed-room, is there? How about it, Harry? Will you make the noble sacrifice of letting me have more room and move into the garage?"

“There’s a smaller chance of that happening than Dear Duddey Munchkins eating his greens.” Harry grinned at him, neatening up the overgrown asters sticking out from the soil. “I’m sure the dust and cob-webs in there would make a better roommate than you, though.”

The two of them spent an hour trimming and taking care of different sections of the garden until lunchtime at 12: 00—PM. Charlus and Harry deposited their dirtied up gloves into a wicker basket, changed into clean outfits, and trudged into the kitchen for spaghetti. Dudley, of course, got the biggest helping alongside some chocolate pudding for dessert. 

Ten minutes into their meal, Dudley began pestering his mom and dad to take him out shopping for a new dinosaur action figure that had been advertised to him by his friends.

Charlus poked his spaghetti with his fork in boredom, willing his cup of water to levitate upwards for a second. 

Despite the small bursts of knowledge he got from his dreams, Charlus wasn’t some prodigy in spellwork. He grabbed his cup, sipped his water, and resumed his absent-minded cloud watching through the casement windows above a countertop.

“So can we get it?” Dudley spoke in an impatient tone, wolfing down his pudding and glaring at his parents. “I’m pretty sure Malcolm got one last week and he won't let me borrow his one! It’s a T-Rex, but transforms and has armour and everything!”

“Of course, Duddy Munchkins!” Petunia pinched his cheek, pulling it back and forth. “You deserve it after working so hard this school year!”

“Hard work.” Vernon grumbled, shifting his attention onto Charlus. “Something others living under this roof might want to learn about.” 

“Huh?” Charlus blinked his dull hazel eyes, turning his head away from the window and scratching his tangled black hair. “What’d you say, uncle Vernon?”

Vernon shook his head and looked at Dudley and ruffled his blond hair. “We’ll buy you that whatchamacallit downtown on our way to that amusement park! Remember about that, Dudley? Your mother and I promised to take you there last month. I got the day off just for us!”

Dudley whooped in excitement, scooped up his bowl of spaghetti, dumped it into Harry’s smaller bowl, and lumbered out from the kitchen in a hurry. Petunia tailed him. ‘Isn’t someone excited?’ Charlus snorted. Dudley and the other Dursleys loved going out to expensive restaurants, water-parks, amusement parks, and vacations on summer holidays. Instead of accompanying them on these trips, he and Harry would stay with Arabella Figg and her cats in their dingy old home two streets off from Privet Drive.

‘There’s more than meets the eye about her, though, isn’t there?’ Charlus closed his eyes, but some parts of his memories about his dreams remained muddled up. ‘But I can’t put my finger on what.’

Vernon’s smile for Dudley faded. He scowled at them. “You two will not join us—.”

“Who would have ever thought?” Harry murmured, eating his extra serving of spaghetti. “Is it Miss. Yvonne or Mrs. Figg this time?”

“Neither.” Vernon’s voice was a smidge hesitant. “I trust that the two of you trouble-makers will not damage, touch, or even look at any of the valuables in this home when your aunt, Dudley, and I are out.”

“Hold on!” Harry said. “You’re leaving us here alone?!”

It wasn’t the first time he and Harry had been allowed to stay at the Dursleys’ home with no adult supervision, Charlus reflected, but it wasn’t a common occurrence. 

“Yes.” Vernon gritted out. “But you better not cause any disturbances! I don’t want the neighbors talking about any ruckuses coming from this home!”

“Aye. Aye. Captain.” Harry smiled. “You won’t regret this!”

“I already do.” Vernon pushed his uneaten bowl of spaghetti aside. “If I catch even a whiff of mischief, you’ll be spending your dinner in the cupboard tonight!” He shuffled out of the kitchen and into the hall.

“Jolly man, isn’t he?” Charlus helped himself to a second bowlful of spaghetti. “Whatcha doing this time?” Out of the two of them, Harry was the trouble-maker. Charlus disliked having the spotlight on him. ‘People always think I’m somehow involved in this idiot’s shenanigans.’

“Maybe I’ll put spiders in Dudley’s pillowcase again?” Harry shrugged. “He did smash my marbles against the wall last week. I still gotta pay him back for that.” The marbles had reconstructed themselves, however, and Petunia had seen it and Harry had been locked in the cupboard without breakfast. Charlus had been asleep at the time.

Twenty minutes had soon elapsed. Dudley, Petunia, and Vernon walked out from the front door, loaded themselves up into the new car, and drove off for the amusement-park south from Little Whinging. 

Charlus sat on an arm-chair and he flipped through dozens of programs. Harry sat on the sofa on the other side of the living-room, kicking his feet up on the left arm-rest and reading through a confiscated comic book he had snatched from under the eye of a teacher two weeks prior to the beginning of their summer holidays.

There was a loud series of taps, a riffling of feathers, and two hoots from the kitchen. He turned off the television and Harry looked up from his comic. ‘Owls from the sound of it.’ Charlus’ heart pounded in sudden anticipation. ‘I didn’t think we’d get those letters so soon though.’

“What was that?” Harry swung himself off of the sofa and onto his feet. His round glasses were lopsided on his face. “Kinda sounded like a bird.”

“An owl, more like.” Charlus’ grin was cryptic. He and Harry left the living-room, trudged into the kitchen, and saw two tawny owls on the circular dining table. They hooted, sticking out their legs. Letters had been attached to them. ‘I can’t believe this is happening…’

“Huh.” Harry looked through an opened window. “They must have flown in through here.” He poked the owl and the bird nipped at his finger. Blood welled from it, but Harry wiped it off on a handkerchief on a countertop and took his letter. “Letters? Who sends letters by owls?”

“Who knows?” Charlus untied the letter contained within an envelope of parchment from the owl’s leg. Patting the owl on the head, he found some leftover bacon from Dudley’s big breakfast and fed it to them. ‘At least those three aren’t in the house. Vernon and Petunia would flip out if they saw the owls and letters.’

“Aunt Petunia isn’t gonna like the feathers they’ve spread around the place.” Harry muttered and one of the owls flew out through the windows and disappeared into the clouds. “I’m blaming you if she starts yelling.”

Charlus rolled his hazel eyes, then checked his envelope. 

[Mr C. Potter]
[The Smallest Bedroom]
[4 Privet Drive]
[Little Whinging]
[Surrey]

All of these details were jotted down in green ink. On the other side of the envelope, Charlus saw, was the letter ‘H’ encircled by a badger, an eagle, a lion, and a snake. ‘Gryffindor. Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw. Slytherin.’ He eased his letter out from the envelope, flattening it out.

[HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY]
[Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore]
[(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)]

[Dear Mr. Potter,
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl no later than 31 July.]

[Minerva McGonagall]
[Deputy Headmistress] 

He unloaded the list from his envelope, reading it. 

[Uniform First-year students will require:
1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)
2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear
3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)
4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)
Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags]

[Set Books 
All students should have a copy of each of the following:
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling
A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch 
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble]

[Other Equipment
1 wand 
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2) 
1 set glass or crystal phials
1 telescope
1 set brass scales
Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad 
PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS]

“Yeah...” Harry trailed off in disbelief. “Is this some kinda prank? If it is, it’s a damn good one. I mean — wands? Where are we meant to buy those? You think the Dursleys will lend us some money?” He chuckled.

“It’s a school of magic.” Charlus grinned at his twin. “And we both know that we’ve been able to do some strange things for ages.”

“You got a point.” Harry nodded, though his tone remained sceptical. “Remember that time you hovered up to the ceiling and bashed your head on the top of a shelf?”

“Somehow I think you were the one who caused that.” Charlus shook his head in irritation. Harry had accepted the reality of it faster than he had expected. ‘Like I said, we’ve been doing magical things for ages.’ Rereading his letter, he said. “We have to send an owl by the thirty-first of July.”

The tawny owl on the table tapped him on the palm with his beak. “Sorry, buddy, forgot you there.” Charlus turned to a drawer in the kitchen, retrieved a pen and paper, scribbled a response to the letters from Hogwarts, and attached it to the owl’s leg. 

“I sent a reply asking about how we’re gonna pay for our supplies and if they could send someone over to help.” Charlus told Harry and the owl flew out the house through the window. “We’ll just have to wait.”

He racked his brain and he remembered a dream he had a few years ago about those books. ‘That boy with the greasy hair talked about how people from Hogwarts would go to Muggle-borns themselves and prove that the letters about their place in the school weren’t some joke.’ Charlus’ hazel eyes flickered to the lightning bolt scar on Harry’s forehead, then flickered back to the letter in his hand. ‘They must think Vernon and Petunia told us about all this, huh?’ He grew angry — it was only because of his weird dreams he knew about any of this. 

Calming himself, Charlus took Harry’s letter and snuck up into their bedroom and hid their letters at the very back of the lowest drawer of his desk. Harry had followed him upstairs and he flopped onto his bed.

“You really think we’re gonna go to a school of ‘witchcraft and wizardry’?” He mumbled. “It still sounds kinda sketchy to me.”

“We’ll just have to wait and see.” Charlus sat on his oaken chair, but his growing anger triggered the red pen on Harry’s desk into rotating several inches upwards and smacking the battered ceiling. ‘Those dreams better not have lied to me, I swear.’ The pen quivered and fell onto the squalid rug beneath their desks from the Dursleys they had gotten for their seventh birthday. ‘It can’t just be my imagination.’

Harry and Charlus wasted the rest of their day in their bedroom in silence.

(-)

July 22nd 1991:

Charlus snacked on his tuna sandwich in the kitchen. Harry and the Dursleys had finished their lunches beforehand around an hour ago. It was Sunday and Dudley had gone out to play in the local park with his friends. Saturdays and Sundays were the only days Vernon and Petunia were less strict with Harry and him and let them laze around the house. 

Petunia was out in the garden. Vernon was in the living-room, where the television was broadcasting the news. Harry was in Dudley’s room and scavenging for old toys to steal. He had just left the kitchen when there was a sharp knock on the front door that echoed across the hall.

Grumbling, Vernon stumbled out from the living-room, crossed the hall, and opened the door in a fury. “It’s a Sunday for—!” He cut himself off, shook, and rounded on Charlus. “Boy! What did you do—?!”

This time, however, Vernon was not silenced on his own accord. His uncle halted, realizing his voice was inaudible. Vernon gaped, then opened and closed his mouth and started scratching his throat in dismay. 

Footsteps came from the kitchen and out into the hall — Petunia had heard the ruckus and stopped in her tracks. She peered over Vernon’s shoulder and out into the half-open doorway. “You!” Petunia snarled. “O—Out of all the p—people, it had t—to be you!”

‘Who’s here?’ Charlus held off from skirting around his aunt and uncle and widened his eyes in contemplation. ‘Could it be that someone from Hogwarts is here?! My letter really went through, then.’ 

“Believe me.” An impassive voice drawled out. “I had no interest myself in coming here, but the headmaster insisted on my presence.” The front door to the Dursley home jolted and opened with a thud. Dudley’s photographs hung against the walls shook and some collapsed onto the polished wooden surface of the hall.

A slender man in black robes with dark greasy hair stalked into the house and his lightless eyes fell on Charlus. The man’s face soured in distaste for a moment, but he schooled his features. A wand, Charlus saw, was held in his left hand and a letter was in his other hand. ‘The letter I sent through that owl.’

Petunia and Vernon both scrambled backwards. Vernon was no longer clawing at his throat and was instead glaring at the black-haired man.

“Charlus Potter.” The man ignored his uncle and aunt. “The next time you write a letter to Hogwarts, do make sure your hand-writing is more legible.” He tucked his wand and Charlus’ letter into his robes. “And where, might I ask of you, is the vaunted hero of the wizarding world?”

‘What a jerk.’ Charlus felt like he recognized this man somehow though. “Can I get a name at least?”

“Severus Snape — but you will call me either professor or sir.”

“Of course, sir.” Charlus groused. ‘Snape…I think I know that name.’

“Good. At least you are capable of being polite.” Snape searched the hall and scoffed at the dozens of pictures of Dudley on the floor and walls. “Bring out your twin brother. I do not have the time nor the patience to deal with trifling matters such as this one.”

Petunia regained her bearings. “You horrible boy!” She shrieked at Charlus, paying no mind to Snape. “After all we’ve done for you and your brother! You dare invite him into our home—!” Her voice became silent and Snape put his wand into his robes again.

“Charlus!” Harry crept onto the landing, staring down into the hall in confusion. “What’s all the racket, huh? I found five pounds under Dudders’ bed…” Although perplexed, he smiled. “Who’s the greaseball?”

“Harry Potter, I presume?” Snape said. “You are just like how I imagined you would be.” 

Harry went down into the hall. “He’s from Hogwarts.” Charlus muttered to him. ‘You’d think they’d send someone more pleasant.’

“Bit rude, isn’t he?” Harry grinned in amusement, then spoke to Snape. “Can you prove that all this magic business is real?”

Snape’s wand peeked out from his robes a little. The pictures scattered along the hall hovered into their earlier positions on the walls.

“Has that ceased your curiosity, Potter?” Snape remarked. “I admit I am not fond of being cajoled in front of Muggles like that.”

Harry’s green gaze lingered on the pictures. “Yeah…I’m convinced.” He turned to Snape. “Also, what are Muggles?”

“Non-magical people.” Snape replied. Petunia and Vernon backed off and he stepped out of the home through the opened doorway. “Do come along.” He called out to them. “Or would you rather I leave you here with your incensed relatives? It makes no difference to me.”

“One second.” Charlus rushed upstairs, got their letters out from his drawer, ran downstairs, and passed Harry’s letter to him. “Alright, now we’re ready.”

Charlus and Harry put on their scuffed trainers and hurried out onto the pavement. Snape checked out the otherwise empty neighborhood of neat and tidy homes with impeccable lawns and the front door to number four, Privet Drive slammed close with a second quieter thud.

“Follow me, if you would.” Snape took them into an isolated alley at the end of the street and held his left arm out. “Grab my arm, you two.” His lips curved into a self-satisfied smile. “The next few moments might be a touch unpleasant.”

Holding Snape’s arm, Charlus sucked in his breath. It was like his entire body was being compressed, aerated, and recompressed again and again until he was spat out into a grimy alleyway. Harry staggered around beside him, clutching his chest and vomiting into a bin. Snape loomed over them and guided them out into a street filled with countless stores. The three of them travelled through the throng of customers and reached the entrance to a small run-down pub.

Harry rubbed his chest. “What the heck was that earlier?!”

Charlus scratched his neck. ‘I feel like I was crushed…’ He stared at the pub, mulling over his memories of his dreams. ‘The Leaky Cauldron — that’s its name, isn’t it?’

“Apparition.” Snape spoke, consulting a long rolled out piece of parchment he had taken out from his black robes. “What you just experienced was side-along Apparition — when someone capable of Apparition lets another person tag along with them in a sense.”

“That was some kinda teleportation, wasn’t it?!” Harry lost his irritation and it morphed into enthusiasm. “Sick! Can we learn how to teleport at Hogwarts?”

“You will have to receive a license to do that.” Snape scoffed, rolled up his parchment, and placed it into an inner pocket of his robes. “In your sixth year of schooling, however, lessons to do so will become available to you and the rest of your peers.”

“Sweet.” Harry shook his fist. “Why’d you take us here?”

“We are in London.” Snape said. “This pub I have taken you to is called the Leaky Cauldron and will serve as the gateway, so to speak, to the area where you will be able to buy your school supplies. We are also here to meet a so-called colleague of mine who will be escorting you — Harry Potter — to collect your school supplies.”

“Huh?!” Harry glanced at Charlus. “You’re splitting us up?!”

“Yeah.” Charlus tilted his head. “What about me?”

“My…Colleague was enthusiastic to meet the venerated Harry Potter and insisted on taking you shopping. He would have liked to take the both of you, but the headmaster, for some odd reason, wished for me to at least escort one of you on your trip for your schooling materials.”

Harry was startled. “I’m…Venerated?” He nudged Charlus. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He also called you the vaunted hero of the wizarding world when you were robbing Dudley.”

“He’ll never miss that five pounds—.”

“Come along, you mumbling comedians.”

Snape turned around in a swirl of black robes and they followed him into the Leaky Cauldron — people wearing multi-palleted cloaks, robes of dark and light hues, pointed hats, masks, bandages, and unique glasses were spread around the pub at booths, circular tables, and stools set along a countertop where the barman stood behind.

Harry stared around the pub in amazement. Charlus looked around the room in curiosity. 

The toothless barman smiled at Snape, polishing a glass with a red handkerchief. “Ah, Snape. Here to collect Hagrid?” He nodded at a towering man who had knots of black hair stemming from his face.

“Tom.” Snape said in acknowledgement, trekking across the room and towards the booth the multistorey man was taking up. “Hagrid…” The giant man — Hagrid — jounced from the booth, discarding his alcoholic drink and grabbing Snape’s shoulders in excitement.

“Snape! Did yeh get ‘em?!” He peered over Snape’s head, fixed his black eyes on Harry and Charlus, and let him go. Snape smoothened out his ruffled robes and Hagrid stomped over to them. “I’ll be! Harry an’ Charlus Potter! I haven’t seen the two of yeh since yeh were babies!” The announcement of their names triggered various reactions of excitement, shock, disbelief, and elation amongst the pub’s patrons.

Harry blinked. “Uh, nice to meet you?”

Charlus was silent.

Soon, though, it was complete pandemonium. Everyone went in to shake Charlus and Harry’s hands and speak to them. However, when it came to Harry, people were much more excited and eager to see him and talk to him. ‘The Boy-Who-Lived, ladies and gentleman. The scar must be what tells us apart.’ Some people had even confused him for Harry. 

“I’ll be! Harry Potter in the very flesh!”

“The scar! I see it!”

“Returned at last, I see!”

“An honour! A true honour!”

“No wonder you were so antsy today, Hagrid!”

“Your twin brother is here too, is he?!”

“Harry Potter! In front of my eyes! I cannot believe it!”

Charlus slipped out of the crowd gathering around Harry, moving to stand next to Snape. A pallid man with brown hair in fresh dark blue robes approached them.

“Off collecting the famous Potter twins, Snape?” He spoke, switching his attention between Charlus and Harry. “I imagine that must have been quite a delight for you.”

“Quirrell.” Snape answered in a bland tone. “Yes — the headmaster believed I was suited for the task.”

“Of course.” Quirrell’s smile turned haggard for a moment. He addressed Charlus and shook his hand. “I daresay it is a great delight to have you back in the wizarding world, Mr. Potter. You are Charlus, aren’t you?”

“That’s me.” Charlus nodded. “Who are you?” He slid his hands into his pockets. ‘Quirrell — that name I recognize. Wasn’t he some sorta stuttering mess?’

“He is professor Quirrell.” Snape said. “The Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts. I, myself, teach Potions. Hagrid is the gamekeeper at the school, not a teacher.”

“I once taught Muggle Studies. But I am sure you will be an excellent student.” Quirrell smiled at Charlus. “If you would pardon me, I wish to speak to Harry Potter. Everyone else is hogging his attention.” He inclined his head at them and vanished into the crowd.

“He seemed nice.”

“Believe me, Potter, Quirrell is best left alone.” Snape scowled. “Let us be off. People will hound your famous twin for his attention for quite some time, though you must be wondering why he is getting so much attention.”

“I guess.” Charlus replied. ‘That red-eyed serpent man — Harry took him down.’ The memories of his dreams flashed in his vision.

“To trim it down for our own sakes, your twin brother is responsible for the downfall of the Dark Lord.” Snape refused to look at him during his explanation, instead staring out at the crowd. “The Dark Lord was a powerful wizard of unmatched caliber. It is believed he was wary of only the headmaster of Hogwarts—professor Dumbledore. At the height of his power, he had the entire country in fear of him and his dozens of followers. One day, at Halloween, for reasons that are sometimes still speculated about, he went to the village where you, your brother, and your parents were living. Your parents died, but, somehow, your twin brother caused his disappearance. Many believe him to be dead and some believe he has been weakened. All that was left was that scar on your brother’s forehead.”

‘My dreams told me about him and how my parents died.’ Charlus felt numb. “His name?”

“Voldemort.”

The name set off a terrible ache in Charlus’ head and he gritted his teeth. ‘Voldemort, huh? But he had another name, didn’t he? What was it?’ His memories about his dreams remained distorted.

Snape took him out of the bar and into a courtyard out back. Dustbins were scattered around the ground and patches of yellow grass and weeds encircled them. Taking his wand out of his robes, Snape tapped it on a brick wall around three times. The bricks shifted and parted into an archway. They walked out onto a cobblestoned path and the archway faded into the bricks. 

“This is where we will purchase your schooling supplies.” Snape told him. “At Diagon Alley.” 

Charlus followed him along the street and saw countless shops. There was a shop for cauldrons, a shop for potion and medicinal ingredients, a shop for animal companions, a shop for clothes, a shop for books, a shop for wands, a shop for broomsticks, a shop for magical materials, and so many more shops and buildings. ‘Incredible.’ He grinned.

“Is the Leaky Cauldron the only way to get here?”

“Of course not.” Snape answered. “Most shoppers Apparate in, but there are, of course, other entrances. The Leaky Cauldron is one of the most well known ones, however.”

The two of them stopped in front of a tall ivory building. A goblin in crimson and aureate apparel stood outside the building’s polished bronze doors, bowing whenever a witch or wizard passed him and went into the building.

“This is Gringotts Wizarding Bank.” Snape explained to him. “It is the primary bank that the wizarding society uses and is operated by goblins. The bank is guarded well with countless protective and security enchantments upon it and it was built under London.” He rifled through his robes and pulled out a small gold key. “This key will let you access your vault where you will find the large inheritance your parents left you. Your brother has a similar vault with a separate inheritance left behind for himself, though Hagrid will handle that.”

Snape handed him the gold key and a pouch from his second inner robe pocket. “Do not lose either of these. I took precious time out of my day to extract some of the fortune your parents left you. We will be using that to pay for your school supplies. Visit the bank at a later date with your key if you wish to take more money out of your vault.”

“How do students from outside the wizarding world pay for their school supplies?” Charlus asked him, placing his key into a pocket. ‘I’m pretty sure there’s some kind of fund for Muggle-born students, isn’t there?’

“The Ministry of Magic — the government for wizarding society — provides a fund for students if they contact them beforehand. Hogwarts has its own fund set aside for these students, of course. There are some Muggle-born witches and wizards themselves who have opened organizations to provide other new Muggle-Born students with money for their education. Any more asinine queries?”

“No, sir.”

Charlus brought out his list for his school supplies and they set off for his shopping.

On their way around Diagon Alley, Snape also let him know about how the conversation rate of galleons, sickles, and knuts worked. He took him to a bookstore — Flourish and Blotts — for his school textbooks, a shop for his pewter cauldron, potion ingredients, and brass scales, a shop — Madam Malkin’s Robes For All Occasions — for his school clothing, and a store for his quills, bottles of ink, and parchment.

The trunk Charlus had bought had been a little pricey because some kind of expansive charm had been applied to it to create more space within it. This was where he had stored all his new belongings. Snape tapped the trunk with his wand and it trailed behind them mid-air.

“It is time for you to purchase your wand, I believe.” Snape said. “There are many shops you will find at Diagon Alley that sell wands, but Ollivanders is one I would recommend you procure your wand from the most.”

Charlus stopped in front of an open entrance to the animal companion shop he had come across earlier. Snape paused, raising an impatient eye-brow at him. 

“The letter said I could bring some kind of animal to Hogwarts, didn’t it?” Charlus said and Snape only nodded in clear annoyance. They entered the store. Checking out the toads, frogs, cats, owls, eels, and dogs, he glimpsed a smattering of crows on their perches at the back corner of the store. One crow with dark red eyes canted his head at him, cawed, and flew onto his shoulder. Charlus looked at Snape. “Can I bring this one?”

“It should be allowed.” Snape said in disinterest. “The school letter suggests students the owl, toad, or cat as options. But it is not a fixed rule. If you are finished, shall we head off to get you your wand?”

Paying for the crow upfront, Charlus left the animal companion shop. Spectre — the name he had decided for the crow — spiralled into the clouds and tailed them from above.

Snape guided Charlus to a scruffy kind of shop. Bright flaked off yellow letters — Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382-BC — had been chiseled into its entrance. Snape went off to one side, bringing out the long piece of parchment he had been reading earlier at the entry to the Leaky Cauldron from his robes and unrolling it. ‘What is that about?’

He descended into the somewhat raggedy store and heard the chime of a bell. Boxes on high and low shelves surrounded him on all sides. A single lit floating candle flickered every so often, brightening the store.

“Charlus Potter, I presume? I am Garrick Ollivander.” A man with frayed white hair and silvery eyes in kempt brown robes stood beside him and Charlus resisted his sudden instinct to blanch. “Your visit is no surprise, of course. Your parents received their wands here. For your father, it was an eleven inch wand of mahogany. For your mother, it was a ten and a quarter inch wand of willow.”

“Yes—.”

“—Chop, chop I say. No time like the present, Mr. Potter.” Ollivander clapped his wands and a tape measure flew out from the back of the shop and began measuring Charlus on its own. “You will realize, Mr. Potter, that all the wands from this store are unique and one of a kind. They have cores of unicorn hairs, dragon heartstrings, phoenix feather tails, and of much more imbued into them.”

“Is it complicated — making wands, that is?”

“Quite complicated.” Ollivander rummaged through a few boxes on a shelf, setting them down on a small circular wooden table. “It takes one years of practice, study, and research to even create a formidable wand. I do believe your namesake had an aptitude in wand-making prior to his demise, however.”

“My namesake?”

“Charlus Potter — the one you were named for if I’m not mistaken.” Ollivander said. “He dabbled in wand-making in his later years, though his talent in it wasn’t the greatest. The man was much more talented in the vicious arts of duelling.” He clapped and the measuring tape zoomed away deeper into the back of the store. Opening a box, he handed Charlus a wand. “Here — this one is eleven inches and holly with unicorn hair.” Charlus was about to wave the wand until Ollivander plucked it from him and tucked it into its box. “No. No. No.” Ollivander passed another wand to him. “A chestnut wand of ten inches with a dragon scale.” 

Charlus flicked the wand back and forth and explosive blue blasts of light bounced around the room. Unruffled, Ollivander took the wand from him and withdrew a third one from a box on the circular table.

“Aren’t you worried about the store being damaged?” Charlus’ smirk was wry. “It looks like this sort of thing is usual business for you.”

“Protective wards in the shop nullify most of the damage stray spells of newer witches and wizards cause.”

Ollivander had already put the third wand into its box and pulled out a fourth wand. “This one should do.” He handed it over to him. “It is oak and ten inches with a dragon heartstring. Tough and solid, I would say.” Charlus tested his wand, shooting out a concentrated blast of blue energy into a corner this time.

“Excellent — that would be seven galleons please.”

Charlus reached into his pouch, paid Ollivander for his wand and a wand holster, and exited the store. Spectre landed on his shoulder in a swirl of feathers. Snape glanced at him and tucked his parchment into his robes.

“Finished, are you?” He scrutinized Charlus’ wand for a moment. “Good. We shall return to the Leaky Cauldron. Or are there any other places you wish to visit? If so, do it on your own time.”

“No, professor.” Charlus put his wand into the holster he had connected to his trousers and slipped his hands into his pockets. “I’m more worried about how aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon will react.”

“They will be delighted, I’m sure.” Snape said and he escorted Charlus to the brick wall that acted as an entrance and exit to Diagon Alley. It unfolded into an archway and they stepped through it and headed back inside of the Leaky Cauldron. “Hagrid should be finishing your brother’s shopping for school materials. Of course, if he hasn’t been stopped for more hand shakes.” Snape found a shadowy corner in the otherwise vacant pub to stand in and they waited fifteen minutes.

Hagrid soon came trudging into the main room of the Leaky Cauldron, shouldering Harry’s trunk. Harry was behind him and he was holding a cage containing an unconscious snowy owl on its perch. 

“Ah! Yeh’re here, Snape!” Hagrid bellowed, dropping the trunk onto a sturdy table. “Charlus.” He smiled at him. “I’ll be seeing yeh at Hogwarts! See yeh then, yeh two!” Heading out of the pub, Hagrid cut into the crowd of shoppers and disappeared down a path.

Harry went to Charlus, grinning. “Everything at Diagon Alley was great! Did you see Gringotts and the goblins? I had to go underground to get to my vault! Hagrid told me we have separate accounts or whatever. And he even got me an owl as an early birthday gift!” His brother talked to him some more in excitement about Diagon Alley.

“I saw the goblin at the entrance, but professor Snape got my money out beforehand.” Charlus petted Spectre and the crow cawed. “This is Spectre.”

“Spectre, huh?” Harry patted the crow on the head. “I like it.”

“Did you think of a name for your owl?”

“I’ll think of a name.” Harry replied, glancing at Snape. “So Mr. Gloom over there is a professor?”

“Yep. He teaches Potions.”

Snape’s voice called out. “Enough dawdling, you two.” He cast a spell onto their trunks that made them light-weight and easy to hold. They departed from the Leaky Cauldron.

Charlus and Harry dragged their light trunks into a muddy alleyway. Snape held out his left arm and they grabbed it. Charlus felt like his body was being crumpled up, smoothened out, and crumpled up again and again. They reappeared in the alley at the end of Privet Drive.

“Do make sure to not use your wands at home.” Snape told them on their way to the Dursleys home, though his voice was reluctant. “Magic has two core values—movement and intent. Hogwarts will teach you how to utilize your abilities, so refrain from causing any accidental incidents by trying to use spells without experience.”

The three of them reached the front door to number four, Privet Drive and Snape knocked on it. Swinging open, the door shook. Vernon stood in the doorway and he was fuming. Petunia hovered behind him and her face was twisted in distaste.

“In.” Vernon growled out. “Not you!” He snarled at Snape in a low tone, but Snape paid him no mind and stepped into the hall with them. The door slammed close with a ringing bang and Vernon backed away.

‘That silencing spell must have faded.’

“The headmaster expected this kind of reaction.” Snape took a letter from his robes and transferred it to Petunia. Reading it, she flinched and shook and clenched her teeth. “Will that handle this matter?”

“Yes.” Petunia shoved the crinkled letter into Snape’s hand. “Damn that man. Damn her. Damn all of them.” She murmured. Vernon, puzzled, stared at the letter and Petunia ten times in seconds.

Snape tucked the letter away into an inner pocket of his robes and vanished from the hall with a loud crack. The pictures on the wall and the rickety table with envelopes rattled.

“The trunks will stay in your room until you leave for school.” Petunia said. “You will eat your breakfast, lunch, and dinner and return to your room. Your pets are not allowed outside your room. You will not cause any trouble or invite anyone else to this home.”

“Hey.” Harry shrugged. “Charlus wrote that reply letter to the school, not me.”

“I do not care—to your room!”

“Alright, yeesh.”

Harry and Charlus went upstairs and entered their bedroom. Spectre flew out of the open window and disappeared over the roof-tops. Harry put his cage with the sleeping owl on his desk and his trunk under his bed. Charlus placed his trunk against a wardrobe.

“Hagrid gave me these tickets.” Harry pulled a ticket out from his pocket and handed it to him. “We’re meant to head over to King’s Cross Station on the first of September and get on a train to Hogwarts at platform nine and three quarters.”

Charlus checked his ticket and put it into his middle drawer beneath a tattered book. “Gotcha.” He sat on his oaken chair. ‘I can’t wait…’

He stared out of a window in contemplative silence.