Harry Hartford and the Machinations of a Madman

Harry honestly felt bad for Professor Snape, considering the fact that he had been stuck in their house while his parents went on a near rampage about what had happened to him when he was a baby, and the origin of the horrible scar on his forehead. It had gone on for almost twenty minutes, and ended with Gid sitting at the open window, angrily blowing cigarette smoke out of it while Fiona was crouched on the floor with her head between her knees, taking deep breaths. Professor Snape looked mildly shaken by the reaction, but Harry wasn’t.

His parents had big emotions, it was nothing unusual.

Gid had felt bad, and sent the professor off with a bottle of brandy they had been gifted by a friend after they had successfully adopted Harry, mostly because neither of them had wanted to drink much now that they had a kid of their own.
That had been about two weeks before, and now, the three of them were going to brave their way into Diagon Alley for the first time, and Harry was absolutely terrified.

He had learned, two weeks ago, that his biological parents had been murdered by a dark lord who thought that he was some sort of prophesied hero baby, and he had nearly been killed as well, which is why he had his lightning scar, and now the entire wixen world thought he was a hero because somehow, the freak had died.

It sounded utterly ridiculous, but Harry was quickly realizing that everyone in the wixen world was utterly ridiculous, but he had already decided he wanted to go to Hogwarts, and was not going to back out now.

Fiona, in her own worries, had helped him cover up his scar with a bit of foundation, and styled his fringe to cover it completely, in the simple hope that it would be enough to keep her son from being swarmed by the masses. Gideon had stuck a baseball cap on his head as well, really shoving the fringe down and hiding the scar, and once the three of them were satisfied with the coverage, they set off to find the Leaky Cauldron, using Professor Snape’s instructions that he had written out for the family before he left.

The Leaky Cauldron, as it turned out, was a strange little pub that smelled of alcohol and the inherent scent of magic, which Harry was quickly learning smelled… Tingly.

Just, very tingly.

“I can’t believe they have children find this place by going through a pub.” Fiona muttered, shooting looks at the drunken witches and wizards around the establishment. She had a hand on Harry’s shoulder the entire time, maneuvering him around the other patrons carefully and doing everything she could to keep him out of sight. “They’re too young to be exposed to this sort of thing…”

“C’mon, Fi.” Gid sighed a bit, kissing his wife’s temple. “Just follow that Tom guy, he’ll get us through to the alley.” He smiled reassuringly down at his son, who nodded up at him following the older man from behind the bar who was now guiding them through the tables and out the back entrance, where they were met with a solid brick wall.

Tom, the barman, took a long wooden stick out of a holster on his arm and pressed a few bricks, causing a large… Well, door, to open in the wall.

“Alrighty, folks!” The barman beamed. “Welcome to Diagon Alley, the perfect place for school shopping!”

The three of them thanked him and stepped through the door, and immediately, Harry felt his senses get overloaded, and he had to close his eyes and cover his ears.

It was… Loud.

Loud in every sense of the word.

It felt like the first time he had gone to the fair with his parents, how he had become overwhelmed and had a quiet meltdown from just how much everything was. How loud, how bright, how many smells there were. Only now, there was the added addition of the sheer amount of magic in the air, which made his mind buzz so hard he felt like he was going to puke.

He felt his parents guide him to a corner of the alley, and before he could say anything, he felt Gid’s arms wrap around him and pull him into his leather-clad chest. Harry took a deep breath instinctively, taking in the scent of his dad’s old leather jacket, the lingering cigarette smoke, and coffee. It was grounding. It was safe.

He was safe.

Harry stayed there for a few minutes, just, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent that just felt like his father. Once the buzzing sensation had left him, he pulled away, smiling up at them.

“I’m okay. Let’s go.” He nodded.

“You sure, Haz?” Fiona asked softly, caressing his cheek with the back of her knuckles. “We can take a few more minutes.”

“The faster we get it done, the faster I can go home and read all my books, Mum.”

“We have to stop by that bank first, remember?” Gid added quickly. “Gringotts, or whatever it was? Your birth parents left you money, from what Snape said, and it would be easier than trying to figure out the money conversion.”

Harry nodded grimly. Truth be told, he hated being reminded that Fiona and Gid weren’t his birth parents. To him, they always had been, and they never once made it seem like they didn’t feel the same way.

He had never even asked what their names were until Professor Snape had told them to him: James and Lily Potter, the parents who had died to protect him. The way he said it made it sound like they had made a grand gesture of love, willing to sacrifice their lives for the sake of their son.

“Yeah. Let’s go to the bank first.” He said softly, letting Fiona lead them out of their hidden corner and back out into the alley, mostly because she pushed through crowds with a level of ease that neither her husband or son could ever manage, and they were going to need her skills to brave the absolute insanity that was Diagon Alley.

—

“Excuse me?” Harry asked softly, looking up at the goblin working the till in front of him. He-at least, Harry was fairly certain the goblin was a he- leaned over to look at the boy, and the two adults behind him. After a moment, he nodded.

“Here to convert pounds into wizarding money?” He asked, moving to grab the necessary documents, before Harry interrupted.

“No, sir. Uhm, I’m here to access my vault, actually?” His voice wavered a bit, and Fiona set a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “My name is Harry Hartford, but, uh, I should have a vault under the name Harry Potter?”

The goblin froze, turning to look at the boy with wide eyes.

“Mr. Potter-”

“Mr. Hartford, please.”

“...Mr. Hartford, do you have your vault key?”

“No, sir, but… I was informed that you could do something called an inheritance test?” Harry asked. “That way you can verify my identity? My Mum and Dad can consent for me.” He gestured to his parents, who both smiled at the goblin.

The goblin paused, but nodded, looking at Fiona and Gid. “Do the two of you, as Mr. Hartford’s parents, consent to me administering the inheritance test?”

“Yes.” Both of them said at the same time, which made the goblin give them a pleased smile, hopping off of his chair and heading over to them, holding out his hand to each member of the family and shaking them.

“My name is Steelclaw. I’m the Potter’s account manager.” He explained, before gesturing for them to follow him as he led them through one of the many hallways off to the side of the main room. Harry giggled a bit when he heard Gid whistle at the white marble walls, but he looked back up at Steelclaw when the goblin continued to speak. “We were all incredibly concerned when we discovered that you had been placed with your maternal aunt and uncle, Mr. Hartford. We here at Gringotts are very glad to see that you have been safely placed with parents who love you and care for you.”

“I definitely got lucky.” Harry beamed, puffing his chest out a bit.

“That you did, Mr. Hartford, that you did.”

Steelclaw finally led them to one of the many rooms, opening the door for them. Fiona quietly thanked him as she entered, which the goblin responded to with a smile as he followed them in, taking a seat on the other side of the large, wooden desk. Harry sat in the other chair, while his parents stood next to him.

"Are you aware of what an Inheritance Test entails, Mr. Hartford?" He asked.

"Vaguely, yes.” Harry nodded as he sat down.

“That makes this easier, then.”

Steelclaw snapped his fingers, and a few moments later, another goblin entered the office, holding a sheet of parchment. Steelclaw took it from him and unrolled it, along with a large needle. Harry cringed a bit at the sight of it, and the fact that the goblin in front of him held it in one hand, while the other was held out for his own hand.

“Five drops of blood from your dominant hand is all that’s needed, Mr. Potter. Then, we can find out your inheritance.”

Harry hesitated, but held out his right hand, resting it in Steelclaw’s. The goblin quickly pierced his index finger with the needle, eliciting a hiss from the back of his throat, before turning his hand over the parchment and gently squeezing the bleeding digit. Five drops of blood dripped onto the parchment before soaking in, and Griphook let him go, allowing Harry to stick the tip of his finger in his mouth to stop the bleeding. Immediately, Fiona pulled her purse in front of her and rummaged around in it until he found a bandaid, pulling Harry’s hand away from his mouth, wiping the remaining saliva onto his shirt, and wrapping the bandage around it.

“Thanks, Mum.” He smiled up at her.

“No problem, baby.”

He turned back towards the parchment, mildly entranced, as it began to fill with ink, the words forming in a loopy cursive that was a bit difficult for him to read until the words had finished completely.
-

-

Harry’s eyes widened when he saw his parent’s names on the parchment in front of him, and he looked up at Steelclaw in confusion. “How..?”

Steelclaw, to his credit, didn’t seem surprised in the slightest. “It seems that your parents have both a legal claim to you in the muggle world, but a magical one as well.” He looked up at them, noting the three looks of confusion. “Essentially, somewhere in one of your family trees, Mr and Mrs. Hartford, there is someone with magical blood in relation to one of the three magical families shown here; The Potters, The Blacks, and the Lupins.”

“Probably you, love.” Gid teased softly, gently poking his wife’s cheek. “You’re more witchy than I am.”

“Oh shove it.” Fiona laughed a bit, swatting his hand away before she leaned down and kissed Harry’s cheek. “That makes me happy. It means nobody will be able to take you away from me. Magic or not.”

Harry smiled, wrapping his arms around her neck in a tight hug, squeezing her just a bit before he turned back to Steelclaw.

“Okay, so… Is this proof enough that I have access to my vault?” He asked softly, getting a nod in response from the goblin. “Okay. Can I make a few requests?” Another nod. “Perfect. My first request is that any keys to my vault that are not currently in my possession would please be deactivated.”

Steelclaw grinned at that. “Absolutely, Mr. Hartford. We’ll get that done for you right away. While you’re here, we’ll give you your new key, in case you need to come and make a physical withdrawal, but we’ll also be giving you our new standard issue withdrawal pouch, and a muggle debit card.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you could do muggle cards.” Fiona gasped a bit. “That’s incredible.”

“Now you guys don’t have to give me money every time I want to go out!” Harry beamed, before Gid snorted, shaking his head.

“You keep your money for necessities, Haz. Like stuff for school. Mum and I will handle everything else.” He chided gently. His son huffed up at him a bit, but his attention was quickly pulled back towards Steelclaw, who was handing him the pouch.

It was a simple, black leather coin purse with the Gringotts crest stamped into it. When he opened the pouch, he could see a shiny, brass key, and small pocket that seemed to have a square piece of plastic in it.

His card, most likely.

“Is there anything else we can do for you, Mr. Hartford?” Steelclaw asked, raising a brow.

“No, thank you, Steelclaw.” Harry said, shaking his head. “You’ve been an incredible help. I look forward to seeing you again.”

“And I look forward to our continued business, Mr. Hartford. May your coffers overflow, and your enemies be slain.”

“...I hope your enemies die horribly and you get all the money in their vaults?” He offered in response, causing Steelclaw to let out a sharp laugh.

“Very good, Mr. Hartford. Very good.” He nodded. “Allow me to escort you out.”

This time, Gid opened the door for them, holding it as Steelclaw led his wife and son out before he followed behind them. After a few quick handshakes, and a bit of directions, Harry grabbed hold of his mum’s sweater, and his dad’s hand, so the three of them could finally start their school shopping spree.

And after such a positive experience in Gringotts, his earlier nervousness disappeared entirely, and he couldn’t wait to continue exploring Diagon Alley.

—

“Okay, what else do we need again?” Gid asked as he looked at the list in his hand, leaning over to lick the side of Fiona’s ice cream as they stood outside of Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor. “We have a whole new wardrobe, we got your potions stuff, we got that telescope, and your trunk for school… Oh, and that featherlight bag.”

“We need a wand and my books.” Harry chimed in, sucking on his own popsicle.

“And an owl.” Fiona hummed, looking between her boys. “That way we can send letters. Maybe two, actually, that way I don’t need to wait for you to write to me before I bug you at school.” She smirked, reaching out and tapping Harry on the tip of his nose. He snorted, swatting her hand away. “We’re saving books for last, darling, that way Harry can go wild in the store.”

“Yes! That’s right. Okay.” His dad nodded, standing up a bit. “I say we delegate. Fi, my beautiful amazing wife, can you take Harry to get his wand? I’ll go get the owls?”

“Sounds good, Dad.” Harry nodded, reaching into his coin purse and pulling out a large handful of galleons, which seemed to just materialize into his hand because magic is so freaking cool, and he shoved them into Gid’s pocket on his jacket. Then, before the man could protest, he grabbed Fiona’s hand and pulled her away.

“Hey!” He heard Gid call after them.

“Get everything the owls might need, Dad!” He shouted over his shoulder, a laugh escaping him. Fiona was laughing as well, the two of them rushing through the streets until they reached their specific stop.

Ollivander’s Wand Shop.

The two of them stood outside for a few more minutes, finishing their ice creams so they didn’t risk dripping anything inside the old looking shop, and Fiona pulled a small pouch of wet wipes from her purse as well, wiping off both of their hands.

She always had everything in her bag.

Harry hummed up at her, pushing the door open and stepping inside, holding it for her as she followed behind him.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic, a magic that was… Uncomfortable.

“Good afternoon,” said a soft voice. Harry jumped a bit, and he felt his Fiona grab his shoulder, squeezing a bit in a comforting way.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

“Hello,” said Harry awkwardly, taking a step backwards towards his mother.

“Ah yes,” said the man. “Yes, yes, I thought I’d be seeing you soon. Harry Potter.” It wasn’t a question. “You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.”

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

“Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. “Well, I say your father favored it – it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.”

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Ollivander.” Harry suddenly interrupted, causing the man to draw back suddenly. “My name isn’t Harry Potter. It’s Harry Hartford, and I’m here with my Mum.” He looked up at Fiona, only to see her staring at the old man with a hateful expression.

“Ah, I see.” Mr. Ollivander nodded a bit, taking another step back and summoning a tape measure from somewhere in the back of the shop. “Well… It is a pleasure to meet you, Harry Hartford. Now, which is your wand arm?”

“Uh, I’m right handed, sir.”

“Hold out your arm. That’s it.” He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, “Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful substance, Mr. Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard’s wand.”

Harry suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between his nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes.

A part of him wondered if it was some sort of wandless magic, like he could do, but quickly realized with a quick scan of the tape measure that it was simply an enchanted object.

Bugger, he was hoping to find someone else who could do magic like him.

He looked back at his mum, who seemed to have the exact same question on her mind, but he shook his head. She sighed a bit, resting her hands on her hips as she watched Mr. Ollivander make his way back over.

“That will do,” he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. “Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave.”

Harry took the wand and, feeling foolish, waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once, which made him jump. Fiona let out a huff of air, and he could practically feel his mother’s anger.

“Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try –“

Harry tried – but he had hardly risen the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander.

“No, no – here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out.”

Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

“Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere – I wonder, now – yes, why not – unusual combination – holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

Mr. Ollivander watched Harry with wide, eager eyes, and it made him feel nervous. He gave the wand a quick flick, and he let out a pained yelp, launching the stick back towards the old man as it burned him. He clutched his hand to his chest as Fiona rushed over, gently looking at the burn and whispering curses that would make a sailor blush as she tried to see the burn.

When Harry opened his eyes again, he could see the stricken look on Mr. Ollivander’s face as he placed the wand back in its box, heading around the shelves once again.

Had he been hoping that the wand would connect with him?

He didn’t have time to think about that question further, though, as he looked down at his hand that Fiona was bandaging up with a ferocity that made him worry she might turn around and slap the old man the second he came back into view.

“Mum..?”

“Yes, Haz?”

“Please don’t smack Mr. Ollivander.”

Fiona huffed, looking up at him for a moment, her face softening as she looked into his eyes.

“...Fine. Only because you asked. He should thank you for that, because otherwise I would have laid him out.”

“I know, Mum.” Harry chuckled a bit, looking up when Mr. Ollivander came back, another box in his hand.

“Since that wand wasn’t quite it, this one should do the trick.” The old man said, pulling the wand from the box and offering it to Harry. “Acacia- very tricky to match with the right wizard because of its need for power- and dragon heartstring, fourteen inches. Give it a whirl!”

The warm brown wood was delicately carved, from what Harry could see. Over a foot long, like Mr. Ollivander said, and ever so slightly bent to the left. The handle was thick, and it had a winding carving going down it, like something was coiled around it. When he tilted his head a bit, he could see the carving in full; a loosely coiled serpent, it’s head at the base of the wand.

He nodded a bit, a rush of excitement going through him, and he took the wand from Mr. Ollivander’s hand. The second the wood touched his skin… Everything felt right.

He smiled widely, looking at Fiona and flicking the wand at her. It was like a small gust of wind came up from below, whipping her hair up into a fancy updo that was suddenly held in place by a crown of flowers. She laughed, reaching up and touching her hair.

“Well, looks like we found the right wand.” She said, looking at Mr. Ollivander, who had both a delighted expression on his face, and one of worry. “How much?”

“Hm? Oh- standard fee. Seven Galleons.”

“Alright. Thank you, Mr. Ollivander.” Harry nodded, reaching into his coin purse and handing over the gold coins before he tucked the wand up into his sleeve and grabbed his mother’s hand, the two of them slipping out of the wand shop, and almost bumping right into Gid, who was approaching with two large bird cages and bag tucked onto one arm.

“Oof- Oh, hey!” He beamed, his eyes shining as he held up the cages. Harry lit up as well, spotting the birds inside.

In Gid’s left hand was a Snowy Owl, and a beautiful one at that. She tilted her head when she saw the boy in front of her, letting out a soft, curious coo, and leaning closer to him. In his right was a handsome Great Grey Owl, who spread his wings when he saw Harry.

“They’re beautiful…” He whispered, moving closer. As he did, his dad held out the Snowy owl.

“She’s all yours.” Gid smiled. “Big Grey over here is for your Mum and I. I figured she could name him something cool, like… I dunno, Archimedes or something like that.”

“He looks like a Socrates.” Fiona said thoughtfully. “Or maybe Mephistopheles.”

The grey owl hooted his approval at the second name, causing her to laugh.

“Mephistopheles it is, then.”

Harry smiled at them, holding his owl’s cage thoughtfully. She let out another soft coo, looking up at her wizard with bright eyes.

“Hedwig.” He said simply. “You’re Hedwig.”

Hedwig seemed pleased enough with her new name, gently nipping his fingers when he stuck them through the bars to stroke the feathers on her face. He smiled a bit as Fiona wrapped her arm around his shoulders.

“Alrighty, Haz. Let’s hit our last stop, and then get our new friends home safe, yeah?”

“To the bookstore?” He asked, looking up excitedly.

“To the bookstore.” Gid agreed, laughing a bit when Harry let out a whoop so loud that it startled Mephistopheles before he took off back towards Flourish and Blotts, leaving his parents behind in his excitement. He looked over at Fiona, who shrugged good naturedly.

“At least it’s not drugs?” She offered, smiling at her husband before she took off after Harry.

Gid shook his head, cackling a bit before he followed a bit behind. “At least it’s not drugs.”