Chapter 1
Diagon Alley was buzzing with its usual back-to-school fervor. Kids too young for Hogwarts were darting between larger bodies, parents and shopkeepers alike shouting (either about their wares or calling for their children to keep their hands to themselves), and above all of the crowds, owls were swooping left and right filling owl orders and delivering letters.
Harry took it all in with a slight smile, as he waited outside Twillfit and Tattlings. Despite any frustration he felt with the wixen community at large, Diagon Alley held a special place in his heart.
Before his first year, the Alley was the first place he had really gotten a sense that magic was real - that the crazy story Hagrid had told him wasn’t some prank the Dursleys were playing on him. Walking through the Alley as a recently turned eleven-year-old had opened Harry’s eyes to the magic of this new world he was joining - the world that was his birthright.
Then those three lovely weeks of freedom he spent here before his third year had given Harry a taste of what it would be like to be on his own - completely free from under the thumb of the Durselys or his Professors. Free to do as he liked, whenever he liked.
Harry knew he was probably making Diagon Alley out to be much more than it was, but to him, it would always signify magic and freedom.
It had been a disappointment not to make it here last year, but after everything that happened at the World Cup, Mrs. Weasley wasn’t willing to bring such a large group of primarily underage wixen out in public. This year however, when Harry had carefully broached the subject with Sirius and explained to his godfather just how much he was looking forward to a visit to the Alley, Sirius had told him it wouldn’t be a problem to visit.
Of course, following the very loud arguments from Mrs. Weasley and, surprisingly, Mad-Eye Moody (the real one), Sirius suggested bringing some extra wands to protect Harry while they were doing their shopping. In addition to Sirius and Remus, who was coming along “just to spend time with him” (although the werewolf’s hands had remained close to his wand nearly the entire time), Sirius had also hired Bill Weasley and his Gringotts partner, a brick wall of a man named Gareth Wilson to trail along behind them and act as extra security.
Other than the cheerful greeting from Bill earlier in the day, the two had mostly faded into the background, only stepping closer when the crowds got particularly tight and they moved up to box Harry in between all four older men.
All in all, it had been a pleasant few hours in the Alley. Without his usual pack of Weasleys, it also went much quicker, although that might have been because so much of the standard new school supplies had already been purchased by Sirius over the summer. Harry had no need for more parchment and quills, some of his required books for the year had already made their way onto his bookshelves, and many of the standard potions ingredients Harry would be sourcing from the extensive gardens at Aquarius House.
He did, however, need new school robes as his old pair was showing a bit too much ankle at this point, which led to their current errand.
Earlier in the day, when Harry had started making his way to Madame Malkin’s, Sirius had gently steered him towards the more upscale Twillfit and Tattlings. After a short fitting, they had been asked to return in two hours to pick up their packages, just enough of a window to complete the rest of their shopping and have a nice lunch at The Hopping Pot, a cozy little pub that Harry hadn’t paid much attention to before.
Sirius had gone inside to pick up their order, and Harry was pretending he hadn’t noticed all the extra clothing that Sirius had ordered for him while Harry had been busy with the tailor earlier in the morning. As if Sirius hadn’t already purchased Harry two full wardrobes worth of clothes.
Despite Sirius getting custody of him earlier in the summer, and having weeks in which he attempted to spoil Harry enough to - in his words, “make up for lost time,” Sirius still took every opportunity he could to treat Harry to anything and everything he might want.
Harry thought it was probably a coping method Sirius was relying on to deal with the remaining guilt he felt about Harry ending up with the Dursleys and had decided early on to just accept everything he was given. The proud little smiles his godfather wore whenever he saw Harry enjoying something he had gifted Harry made it worth the slight discomfort Harry felt at the sheer abundance of gifts he was given.
A melodic chime from the door, barely heard over the noise of the crowd walking past alerted him to Sirius exiting the store, and Harry looked over with a grin.
Sirius, all packages shrunken and tucked away, smiled back at him and raised a brow, “Ready to go home kiddo, or are you feeling up to ice cream at Fortescue’s first?”
“Definitely ice cream. Can’t come to Diagon without stopping there.”
“Very wise Pronglset, very wise - Fortescue’s is a must. Come on all, my treat for a job well done.” Sirius offerers, looking to Bill and Gareth who had moved to stand closer to Harry while Sirius was inside.
With that, the group moved on, Remus leading the way, Sirius remaining in step with Harry, and Bill and his partner falling a few steps back. As they walked, Harry asked Sirius and Remus what they remembered about the lessons from their fifth years. Although they started with discussing the O.W.L for transfiguration, they quickly got sidetracked telling a story about when James Potter had accidentally transfigured his eyebrows into leaves and they were stuck that way for two weeks.
By the time they made it to Fortescue’s, the three of them were barely containing their hysterical laughter, and Harry could hear some loud guffaws from the men trailing them.
It was the perfect way to distract Harry from the stares and whispers from the crowds around them.
The gawkers fell into two categories - those offended by Harry’s presence, and those intrigued by him. The former, those who bought into the Ministries subtle propaganda, and the latter those with some sort of connection to the House of Black. The Wixen who watched him shrewdly had heard through the grapevine about Harry gaining the approval of Lord Crux Black, the founder of the Black Family - or his portrait at least, and were now curiously waiting to see what he might do.
Over the last few weeks, there had been plenty of invitations from various people who were interested in meeting Harry, but Sirius had refused them all. As politeness demanded, the letters had all technically asked to meet with Lord Black, usually with a nonchalant mention that “Heir Black was welcome as well.”
But Sirius had turned them all down, with the excuse of wanting to spend as much time with his Godson as possible before Harry returned to school. Sirius would throw in a vague reference to how they had been separated for so many years and how Sirius just couldn’t bear to share Harry with others when he was about to lose him again for the fall term at Hogwarts, and whoever invited them would fall all over themselves assuring Sirius a meeting could wait until after September 1.
It wasn’t even a total lie, although Sirius said he was also trying to save Harry from the mind-numbing bore that was politics.
“We’ll have to deal with it all eventually, of course. Take up my seat in the Wizengamot and all that entails. But if I’ve only got the summer with you before you leave for four and a half months, I’m not wasting our time on any of that. I’ll start managing it all once you’ve returned to school.” Sirius told him over breakfast one morning when Harry asked if they could really afford to turn down all invitations. “Besides, it’ll just make them more curious the longer they’re kept in the dark.”
But in a few short days, Harry would return to Hogwarts for his fifth year, and Sirius would turn his attention to the previously ignored politicking.
For now, though, they were trying to cram in as much fun as possible before Harry went back to school. The pair spent time on the beach nearly every day, they managed to take in another two professional quidditch matches - this time in private suites that Sirius had rented via their solicitor, and they had even gone on a short trip to Paris the week before.
All of these adventures had been made significantly easier since Dumbledore seemed to have lost all interest in him earlier in the summer. Following the Headmasters' unwelcome intrusion at Aquarius House, he had not asked Sirius about Harry once, and as Remus reported, never brought him up during Order meetings.
Sirius and Remus were starting to get a bit worried, with Sirius carefully speaking around the possibility that Harry’s obliviate might have done a little more damage than he intended.
If he was honest, Harry would confess that he couldn’t find it in him to care all that much. Dumbledore had always just been a bit too interested in Harry. The breathing room he’d had this summer was a gift from Merlin.
Or - he supposes - a gift from whoever created the Obliviate spell.
And besides, he hadn’t tried to wipe all memories of himself from the Professor. Just the location of Aquarius House. And even that was just so Dumbledore would leave him alone. That’s all he really wanted - for Dumbledore to treat him the same way he did everyone else.
And seemingly, he’d gotten his wish. So Harry wasn’t going to question his good fortune.
As they neared Fortescues, Harry kept half an eye on the passing shops, in case he spotted anything that looked interesting. He’s hoping to find something amazing for Sirius’s birthday in a couple of months, and after today he’ll be limited to whatever he can find in Hogsmeade or catalogs via Owl Orders.
As he’s glancing into the next set of windows, he meets a set of pale eyes that gleam out of the darkened storefront. The intensity in the gaze makes him trip over his feet slightly, although he’s caught quickly by two different sets of hands.
“Alright, Harry?” Remus asks, scanning him up and down with a concerned look.
“Yeah, I’m alright. Just, er- not looking where I’m going.” Harry reassures both Remus and Sirius.
“Mr. Potter.”
For an old man, Olivander sure moves fast.
In the few seconds it took for Harry to find his balance and calm his guardians, the wand maker had exited his store and stood directly in their path and was staring at Harry with a peculiar expression on his face.
“Er - hello, Mr. Olivander. Are you doing well?”
Olivander didn’t answer, instead, his eyes drifted down to the wand strapped in the holster on Harry’s forearm.
“Eleven inches, holly, with a phoenix feather core. Quite supple, but I thought it would grow quite spirited in time.” Harry blinks at the recitation, not sure how to respond.
Glancing at Sirius, who gives him a slight shrug and an “I dunno either kid” look, Harry says “er, yeah, that’s right. It’s still working great. I even started polishing it more often after…after the Weighing of the Wands last year.”
“Hmm. It has seen battle since then. And met its brother once more…but something else…”
Olivander trails off, seemingly lost in thought as he stares at Harry’s wand. Uncomfortable with the reminder of what all the wand - and Harry - went through a few months ago Harry shuffles on his feet and sends a pleading glance at Remus this time, cueing him to step in.
“It’s good to see you Olivander, but we really must be going. Harry is just finishing up -”
But Remus’s attempt is no good, as Olivander ignores him and interrupts, “There is something different about that wand Mr. Potter. Or perhaps something different about you.” Olivander's head tilts to the side as he considers Harry, and his reflective eyes are boring into Harry’s like he can sense the core of him just like he can sense a wand's core. “Something that I don’t think can be credited to your experiences with the returned Tom Riddle. You remember I said we could expect great things from you. Yes. I think you’re on your way to them now.”
“Right!” Sirius says, clearly fed up with Olivander and likely a little creeped out as well, “Right, well. It was good to see you and catch up, but we really must be going.” And with that, Sirius grips Harry’s arm and steers him around Olivander, not faltering at all when the man slowly rotates so he can continue observing Harry.
Harry lets himself be guided down the street and hears Sirius make a quip about “spooky old men who need to get out more,” to lighten the mood, but Harry can barely pay attention. Olivander has always been a little…off. But today he was in rare form, and Harry’s not sure what could have caught his attention.
Glancing behind them, Harry can just barely make out Olivander standing still as a statue outside his shop, undisturbed by the crowds passing by.
He’s still staring at Harry.