The ballad of an orphaned lamb

Ah, I completely forgot about this thing.

As Harry dug for some Galleons in his trousers to pay for his cauldron, he discovered the small object Aunt Petunia gave him. Holding it tight between two fingers, he paid the shopkeeper, exiting the store. He had forgotten to ask about his aunt’s odd gift, and still had no idea what it could be. 

However, now he also had Lena’s gift hanging around his arm, sleeping soundly. She had gifted it to him when they returned from Godric’s Hollow.

However, whilst breathing, this was not a pet like Hedwig, his owl. It was a small, carved dragon, shining in golden hues in the sun. A Welsh Green, which he managed to identify when it awoke from its slumber. When he first opened its lacquered box, its front legs were sprawled outwards, and its tail was straight and pointy, in an almost grotesque caricature of a cross. It looked more like a knife than an animal. Which is why, unlike Hedwig, which he named from one of the books he would soon study, he was not too bothered naming it.

Harry lifted his hand, and he could still see the marks where the tiny dragon bit him. When he had first reached for it, he didn’t know how to best grab it, and decided to treat it like a dagger from its shape. And just as he had put his fingers underneath its belly, its head shot backwards towards his wrist, pricking his skin and drawing blood. That was how they gained ownership, Lena explained. They only answer to their owners, who can train them until they are able to grasp from a single look what the owner wants.

What he did as a first exercise in obedience was easy. He first trained it to hide, and when it finally learnt what he wanted, the little dragon scuttered under his cuff, climbing past his elbow, and wrapping itself around his arm like a bracelet. While in the beginning, Harry could swear he could feel its belly rising, pressing against his skin, by now he had forgotten about the little creature. He’d only remember when he’d take his shirt off, and see it sleep soundly. If he were to pry it away from his skin, it would turn back into its cross-shape, until he would awaken it again.

He enjoyed taking the little golden creature with him around Diagon Alley. Lena let him explore to his heart’s content, mentioning being busy with one thing or another. At first, he was quite discontent with spending the rest of his summer in London - when he’d said his goodbyes at the train station, he promised Gavril it was for a short trip, however Harry had to send Hedwig with a letter explaining his acceptance to Hogwarts and that he would not return anytime soon - however he had soon gotten accustomed to it.

It was the stares he had not gotten accustomed to - and would he ever? He tried his best to smile when wizards and witches, old and young alike, wanted to pull him aside, shake his hand, take a photograph with him, ask him about his life, wish him luck and well. And part of him did truly smile, the part that knew that these wizards and witches may have contributed to the giant statue of him and his parents, or visited his house, writing well-wishes to a stranger. 

He knew there was an air of prying in their questions. He knew very well that for them all, Harry Potter fully disappeared from the public eye, save for the short periods they would see him in London. And they wanted to know - but not for the sake of knowing him as a person, as much as for the sake of knowing more about The Boy Who Lived.

Last year, he had asked Tom the innkeeper, one of the only people who knew where he had grown up, why he had never said anything. With his usual toothless grin, Tom told Harry that there were juicier secrets he was privy to, but that keeping them secret was part and parcel of his job. And that if he were to babble about one thing, his patrons would lose their trust, and him the business.

He had made the decision a while ago to not tell people where he had grown up. He’d seen an excerpt about himself already in Modern Magical History, and was sure there were many other books mentioning more or less the same. The part he read mentioned rumors that he went to live with Muggles from his mother’s side of the family. Nothing but rumors, which he enjoyed knowing. He enjoyed them not knowing every single aspect of his life.

Let them wonder! He thought to himself, carrying his cauldron. The brass scales he bought earlier clinked against it, and Harry figured it best to return back to the Leaky Cauldron and drop them off. He had already bought a new trunk to accommodate all of his school supplies, with two hidden, enormous compartments to take care of all of his books, robes and growing array of school supplies.

Harry turned to walk towards the Leaky Cauldron, when he heard words familiar to him, making his head turn to the side. The voice was hoarse, coming from an old man with dark, slicked-back hair, wearing a dark blue Muggle suit. Next to him was a woman in a dark, fur coat, looking like his wife, and in front of them, what appeared to be a young girl, dressed in Muggle clothing, carrying a wand.

“And what’s this again, dad? Why’d they take twenty of those?” he asked in Romanian, impatient.

“It’s not ten to one, dad…”

“Well then?” Harry watched him jingle the coins in his palm, his wife taking a couple of Sickles and examining them closely. “Oh, I don’t even want to think about going back to that godforsaken bank.” he added as the girl mouthed that she forgot, now looking around, as if hoping the answer would be written on the walls.

Harry couldn’t help but hold a chuckle as the father grumbled a half-hearted ‘...spit on their crosses and-’ before walking towards them. 

“Hi, uh… I couldn’t help but notice… Do you need any help?”

The father lowered his hand as the girl explained they had forgotten how wizarding currency works. He looked at the father’s palm, and pointed to each of the three types of coins. “Twenty-nine Knuts go into a Sickle, and seventeen Sickles are a Galleon. It doesn’t make much sense, I know…” he added, seeing the father wipe the nape of his neck with a napkin as he explained the money.

“They don’t like to make it easy for us, do they?” The father addressed him in English with a grin as he closed his hand, putting the money back in a pocket of his wallet. “Thank you, thank you. Tell me, are you here too for, ah-... Anica, dad, what’s it called again?”

Harry tried his best to pretend as if he did not understand, nodding solemnly only when the daughter answered ‘Hogwarts’.

“We got the letter a few days ago, had this lady with a big hat come to our house, explained about… wizards and magic and all of that.” the mother explained, and the father added.

“Thought it was bullshit, until she lifted the couch with me in it! Was it the same to you-....?”

“Harry.” he introduced himself. The man grabbed his hand in a tight handshake, introducing himself as Gheorghe, his wife as Liliana, and his daughter Ana. His palms were raspy and callous, the only smooth thing about his hands being his thick wedding band. “No, I-... I think they only do that with-” Harry stammered, not knowing how to address him. The parents were Muggles, however for some reason, he felt awkward saying it while looking up at Gheorghe. “When the parents aren’t wizards. I only had a letter sent.”

“Are your parents with you too?” Unlike her father, Ana had what could be considered a ‘proper’ English accent, which Harry couldn’t help but be a bit surprised by. 

“No.” he smiled. “They’re not, they’re, uh, dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry-” Ana started, covering her mouth.

“No, it’s fine, it’s fine.” Well, it wasn’t fine. It was a bit of a lie, yet it wasn’t like they could have known anything about it - and Harry wondered if he’d rather have everyone know and never ask about his parents, or if he’d rather have hundreds of conversations explaining his parents are no longer with him.. “They died when I was very young, so I don’t remember them well.”

The mother finally spoke, as both her parents did a sign of the cross, asking the daughter how to say ‘may they rest in peace’. Harry turned his head from the conversation, to catch the glimpse of two wizards. They appeared to be father and son, by their resembling pale and pointy faces, their dark robes wildly contrasting with their palour and whitish blonde hair. Harry couldn’t help but notice it might have been as all four of them wore Muggle clothing. 

Catching the boy’s sneer and look, without thinking Harry raised his hand, parting his wild hair seemingly to tame it, making sure the boy would see his scar. The boy’s sneer died, his eyes widening as Harry turned himself around, facing the Muggle father. He was idly talking to his wife and daughter about how a great-grandmother of his may have been a witch. Amused with his own little story, he turned to Harry, and winked, before asking him in English if Hogwarts was any good.

It was - It was the best in Europe, Hagrid had assured him. And his letter from Gavril, which he received a few days after the event with the Romanian Muggle family and their witch daughter, mentioned most of the same.

Harry,

We’re very proud of you here! Old Avizina figured that was the case, said you’re around the age. She wants you to know Hogwarts is going to be the perfect fit for you, and doesn’t want you to worry about a thing. Said you’re in the best hands there. Don’t ask me why, you know how she is. Old coot.

Are you there already? Write to me, I want to know everything. Even the bad parts.Come back when you can and show me what you’ve learnt. 

Forever your friend, 

Gavril

P.S. If anyone’s a bitch to you there, let me know. I’ve been learning a spell or two myself here. I’ll show them around! 

Even old Avizina knew it. It was one of the greatest schools, where magnificent wizards and witches have gone through to be educated. Sometimes, the thought of it made him shudder, and he didn’t know why. Maybe it was anticipation?

It must be, he thought, as the day of his departure arrived. He knocked on Lena’s door after he had packed his trunk and gotten dressed, and pressed an ear against the door. He heard a hurried exhale, and the window closing. She’d never smoke in front of him, or admit to him, but Harry knew his guardian too well - she was a noticeably loud smoker, if that was even a thing.

“Ready?” Lena’s voice rang from the other side of the door, and Harry took a step back, grabbing Hedwig’s cage. 

“Ready.”

They couldn’t Apparate, so they had to awkwardly travel through the Muggle parts of London with a caged owl until King’s Cross. The more they walked from platform to platform, the more they saw wizards, young and old alike, either dressed in robes and completely disregarding the looks given to them, or awkwardly dressed in Muggle robes. While he figured he was doing a good job dressed in trousers and a button-up shirt, having a tall witch covering her usual light robes with an enormous green dressing gown did him no favors.

They reached platform nine, where Harry got stuck, at a loss of what the next step could possibly be. He craned his neck, yet the next platform was ten. Platform nine… ten… nine… 

“They could’ve given more instructions.” Lena grumbled, putting Hedwig’s cage on his trunk. 

“Maybe you’re supposed to… raise your wand and it appears?” 

“Raising wands in a train station full of Muggles?”

“Like we’re so very inconspicuous.” Harry pointed to her, grabbing at his shirt. He then motioned towards a family of red-haired wizards and witches, with four children carrying enormous trunks just like his, and the tallest boy carrying in his hand a caged owl, twice the size of Hedwig. “Look, they look a bit like Charlie. You don’t think-”

“Oh come on, Harry, not every red-haired person is related.”

Harry watched the mother bicker with a pair of twins - Charlie said he had five brothers and a sister, and if remembered well, one of his brothers was older, so he wouldn’t be there… 

“But they’re wizards at least. So they must know…” They could watch them, figure out what they do. Harry came closer to Lena, and the two pretended to be stuck deep in conversation, mouthing idly while eyeing the tallest of the brothers advancing towards the platforms in a brisk stroll. And then - he disappeared inside the wall.

“Baga-mi-as-“ Lena put a hand to her mouth, stopping herself from finishing the profanity, yet Harry thought the same thing. ‘Oh, fucking-’ indeed. They didn’t pay enough attention, and were still at a complete loss. “Did you catch that?” she asked in a hushed tone, and Harry shook his head. 

He turned to tell her they could still watch the twins and maybe they’d understand, but Lena had disappeared from next to him, and started advancing towards the family. Grabbing his trolley, Harry looked on as one twin, then the next followed through the wall, yet he still had no idea what he was supposed to do. He looked again as now there was only the woman, her daughter and youngest brother, and Lena, talking to her. She turned to motion towards Harry to come, and the woman smiled, putting her hands on the boy’s shoulders.

“Oh, first time for him?” the red-headed woman smiled kindly at him, and Harry nodded. “Don’t worry, darling. All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Don’t stop and don’t be scared you’ll crash into it, that’s very important. Best do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous. Go on, you can go before Ron.’ 

Harry nodded, and Lena patted him on the shoulder, telling him she’ll follow with the woman after him and the boy would go. Harry grabbed the trolley, and leaned forward, putting his weight on it. 

“Hedwig, if we crash… I’ll buy you only the best food for a year. Plumpest mice I can find.” he murmured, and the owl hooted at him. Oh, how he wished he knew what she said!

He started walking, faster and faster, until he broke into a run as he could see the trolley almost touch the barrier. He closed his eyes, trying not to think of the impact, which never happened. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and in front of him was now a steam engine, carriages slowly filling with Hogwarts students. Stepping forwards on the platform, he started inspecting each carriage for empty seats.

Eventually, he found what looked like a carriage with some empty compartments, and turned to enter. And realised why he should have waited for Lena. His trunk was already heavy, and Hedwig’s cage required a bit of maneuvering with extra hands he did not have. Hopefully, by next time next year, he could figure a spell to help him with that. Harry tried to turn, but saw a small queue of students, each with their own trunk, some with disgruntled pets, had already formed behind him. 

“Need a hand?” one of the red-haired twins popped from behind the carriage’s door, 

“Yes, please.” 

“Oi, George!” 

Together, the three of them managed to get his trunk and Hedwig’s cage onto the train. 

“Thanks, I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” Harry panted, pushing at his hair as it went into his eyes. He watched as the twins’ eyes darted to his forehead, and for a moment, Harry remembered that along with anticipation, he felt pangs of uneasiness, knowing most kids probably already knew him.

“Blimey-...are you-?”

“You are, aren’t you? Harry Potter?” 

“I guess I am.” Harry mumbled, feeling his ears warming up with embarrassment. Fortunately, he saw out of a corner of his eye the gaudy, green choice of outfit of his guardian, and soon enough, heard their mother call them. He watched them hop off the train towards their mother, and he opened one of the windows in the compartment, watching them talk on the platform. The twins, pointing at him, telling their mother who they saw - yet their mom seemed to admonish them. Harry wondered if that was Charlie’s mom indeed, as she had around the same reaction he had when they first met.

He watched their mom take out a handkerchief, before he felt a tap on his elbow.

“Are you ready?” He looked down to see Lena, watching her hand wrap around his wrist as she spoke.

“I think I am. Are you going back after I leave?” his eyes trailed towards the family, watching the mom rub Ron’s nose and chuckling.

“I think I am. Look, anything happens, you write to me, yeah? Your Headmaster, too - your Headmaster knows you well, I’ve written to him before.”

“And Hagrid.” Harry added, and saw her nodding, however with reluctance. 

“You’re going to have a wonderful time, Harry.” 

He watched as Lena let go of his wrist and instead grabbed onto the window’s ledge, and climbed with one foot on a small spur above the wheel of the train carriage, raising herself until she was again taller than him. She put her other hand around his head, and brought him close, pressing her chin against his head as she hugged him tight.

“When you come back, I’ll teach you what I know as well. And the whole summer, we'll practice. You make friends, and don't have a worry in the world. And learn well, yeah? Drum bun, suflet.”

Harry inhaled deeply, getting a mouthful of hair before Lena went back down onto the platform, and let go of him. He watched her step back, and soon she disappeared in the waves of other parents and relatives saying their goodbyes to their kids as the train started to move. He closed the window, and looked at Hedwig sitting opposite him.

“Excited?” he asked her, as the door of the compartment opened.