Magical Human Trafficking and Small Men
***
June 24th 1991:
Petunia scurried into the leaky cauldron quietly. She cast a glance of disdain at the strangely dressed figures around her before venturing towards the bar. The bartender noticed her before she even sat down.
"Hullo love, what can I do for you"
"Could you open the doorway to Diagon Alley please Mr...?"
"Tom. And of course, follow me,"
Tom led her out a door at the back of a pub and into the dingy alleyway that was behind in. She stood warily in the doorway as he took out his wand and tapped it on different bricks. As soon as he finished the sequence the wall slid open, revealing a bustling alleyway.
"Off you go Madam,"
She forced a smile and nodded politely at him before setting off down the busy alley towards the tall marble bank. She manoeuvred around everyone blocking her way, careful not to anger any of them as she didn't particularly want to be on the receiving end of a hex. Finally, she found herself in front of the marble bank. She pushed her way into Gringotts and stepped up to a till where a Goblin was standing.
"Your key."
Petunia fumbled around in her pockets before pulling out a small brass key. She handed it to The goblin who closely inspected it before calling over another Goblin.
"Take Miss Evans here to her vault," He told him, handing over the key.
The goblin walked to the back of the bank without once looking back at Petunia she ran after him, not wanting to be left behind.
She stepped into a worn-down cart across from the goblin and barely sat down before it began its descent. The ride was similar to a rollercoaster although there was an added fear due to the lack of a seatbelt.
Petunia gripped the sides of the cart, knuckles white until they slowed to a stop. She had to peel herself from the cart and stumbled a bit when she finally got up. After leaning for a moment on a nearby pillar, she joined the Goblin at her vault.
The unnamed Goblin stuck the key in the door and it swung open, revealing the Evans trust vault. She knelt and scooped a fair amount of coins into her purse, causing it to grow incredibly heavy. She silently thanked Lily for not abandoning her, even in death.
Once she's finished collecting the galleons, she rides back up to the surface and heads towards the wizarding mail centre. She pens two letters, one addressed to the wretched magical school, telling them her son would not be attending. Before writing her second letter she put her face in her hands, breathing deeply.
'DearThaddeus,
It's been quite a while since we last spoke and I hope you're doing well but I'm afraid I'm going to need to call in that favour. As you most probably know, you are my only connection in the wizarding world. I require a magical tutor for my son and I was hoping that you could find one for him.
I know this is sudden and seemingly random but I'm afraid that my son's attendance at Hogwarts would put everyone in the family in danger. A tutor is the only way he could learn to control his magic and he must learn to control it.
Sincerely,
Petunia Dursley née Evans.'
She sighed, folding and tying up the letter before attaching it to an owl's leg. Her sole acquaintance in the wizarding world was not the most stable person in the world. For one, he was rather fond of muggles which was very uncharacteristic for an elder of an old pureblood family. Thaddeus was also very eccentric. He had become something of a recluse, preferring to spend his time writing books on obscure Magics. Either way, she knew he would respond rather quickly and only hoped he would be able to pull through.
She turned away from the counter where she had attached her two letters to owls. She would just have to trust in her old friend. She walked off, returning to her car. She would not buy any supplies for Dudley until she knew what he needed and she would have to go run another errand so as not to raise Vernon's suspicions.
She cautiously and swiftly made her way back to her car. Once safely in the driver's seat, she slumped forwards onto the wheel. Her life had just become so much harder.
***
Spending the day at Mrs Figg's had been a bit of a vacation for Harry. The pair spent most of the day sitting in Mrs Figg's back yard with piles of books around them and a few plates of biscuits. All eight of Mrs Figg's cats were outside too, napping in the sun or chasing the others around the small field. Aunt Petunia never called Mrs Figg's house asking him to come home so when darkness fell, they moved inside and sipped punch in the library while looking over increasingly yellow papers.
Harry was taking a break from informational texts and reading 'The Daring Duke' by Jess Michaels for the second time in the last few years when Mrs Figg brought in a pot of tea. He was mentally scolding the main character, Miss Emma Liston, for what seemed like the hundredth time. Honestly, she needed to learn how personal space works.
Mrs Figg laughed when she saw the title of the book he was reading.
"That seems a bit scandalous for a nearly eleven-year-old Harry" She mock-scolded.
"It's your fault for giving me free rein of your library. Besides, I've read 'Lick'. Not much can shock you after you've read that,"
"You sure are lucky I'm not in the habit of punishing children like some others I know. If I was anyone else, you'd have gotten a good spanking for reading those books,"
Harry rolled his eyes and muttered something about prudish old ladies before turning back to his book.
Once again, he left her giggling as she settled into the armchair across from his with her own book and her ever-present glass of wine.
He and Mrs Figg had a strange relationship. She was like his cool, elderly, single aunt who drank wine at all hours of the day. She engaged him in interesting conversations instead of the type of conversations one would have with a child. They discussed new events and politics maturely, and she helped him with his collection of knowledge. She was like no other adult he had ever met and for that, he was grateful. he didn't know how he would stay sane if he didn't visit Mrs Figg every once in a while.
Earlier, she had given him a drink that she assured him would help with the pain in his wrist. While he had doubted it originally, the pain had gradually subsided and he was a little more open now to her strange concoctions.
In another room, the telephone rang and Mrs Figg went to answer it
"Mhm... Of course...My pleasure...Alright..."
He heard, still reading about Emma Liston's impropriety. Mrs Figg's footsteps shuffled their way back to the library.
"Harry, dear," She told him "It seems that we're having a sleepover tonight!"
"A sleepover?"
"Yes exactly. Your aunt it seems won't be home until late and your uncle... I'm not too sure what he's doing so you get to stay the night,"
Harry grinned
"Does that mean we can sit in here and read for longer?"
"Of course, what else would we do,"
He settled back into his chair.
"Hmm, I guess there's no need to rush through the painstaking details of Miss Liston's raunchy behaviour"
"There's always a reason to skip through that part, Harry,"
He sighed closing the book.
"If you did that, you'd be skipping from the front cover to the back one,"
Setting that book aside, he pulled out the physics theory he had been studying previously.
"Back to good old physics then, I suppose,"
Mrs Figg simply shot him a toothy grin and returned to her book, sipping her wine sporadically.
Harry fell asleep in the armchair with his book in hand a few hours later. Mrs Figg watched his chest rise and fall fondly.
How he had endured his treatment from the Dursleys and remained as resilient as he was, was beyond her. She walked over to where he slept and ran a hand through his hair. Sometimes she doubted Dumbledore was right in putting him with those muggles.
He stirred as she continued to pet his hair.
"Mrs Figg?"
"It's time to get you to bed Harry,"
He nodded groggily and stumbled to his feet, holding on to the older woman so that he didn't fall over.
She led him up the stairs to her guest bedroom. He flopped into it, not even bothering with the covers.
"G'night Mrs Figg,"
She smiled warmly at him.
"Good Night Harry,"
She closed the door softly and walked towards her own bedroom. That boy deserved the best and she wished she could give it to him but it was not to be. She resolved to talk to Albus in the morning about everything.
***
August 1st, 1991:
After his blissful one day vacation to Mrs Figg's library, Harry's life returned to normal. His version of normal at least. He continued to work as the Dursleys' severely underpaid and mistreated butler, and they continued to carry themselves like royalty, exempt from the rules that governed the rest of the mortals. His life continued to be majorly uneventful, although he found himself in Mrs Figg's library a lot more than he used to.
His birthday, July 31st, had come and gone. He had been promised a gift from Mrs Figg for a few days, though she told him she sent it through the mail to make it more fun. His gift from her didn't arrive before his birthday so he excitedly watched for the mailman during his daily chores.
It was the next day, that the mailman arrived at privet drive. He excitedly went to get the mail, searching for the envelope addressed to him. He found a forest green envelope with his name scrawled on it in familiar handwriting. It was the same one he sometimes found in the margins of her books, commenting on certain passages or noting quotes.
As he shuffles through the letters, he finds another with his name on it. The yellowing envelope had his name writing in elegant script. The ink glimmered as though it was still fresh but when he ran his thumb over it didn't smudge at all. He threw the two envelopes in his cupboard carefully before bringing the rest of the mail to his uncle.
He continued to do the work demanded of him for the rest of the day but that evening, instead of crossing the street to go to Mrs Figg's house, he locked himself into his cupboard and opened up his letters.
The one from Mrs Figg had a birthday card in it and a chain at the bottom. He pulled it up to reveal a beautiful necklace. The teardrop-shaped pendant had a small model of the Apollo 13. It floated around in the slice of space that was the pendant. In the background, stars twinkled in familiar formations. He clutched the necklace to his chest, tears brimming and made a note to thank his proxy aunt thoroughly when he next saw her.
He didn't want to risk her gift being stolen from him by his 'Family' so he stashed it in his cupboard corner before opening the second letter. He tore the envelope open carefully and pulled out a thin piece of paper. it had a strange texture but he ignored it, scanning the words on the paper. He felt his anger grow by the second as he read the letter inviting him to a mystery magic school in Scotland. He crumpled the paper in his fist and threw it across the cupboard which admittedly, is not all that far. He shook with anger.
How dare Dudley do this to him. How dare he send him a letter inviting him to a school for freaks like him. Harry knew he was alone in his predicament. He clearly had some sort of genetic mutation that caused him to do the things he could. While he didn't listen to much Mr and Mrs Dursley said anymore, one thing had been drilled into his head from a young age. There is no such thing as magic. Retrieving his necklace, he latched it onto his neck and tucked the pendant into his huge shirt. He then stalked over to Mrs Figg's house and when she opened the door, he stormed inside.
She followed him in, sitting down across from where he had seated himself.
"What's wrong dear?"
"It's Dudley! He played a horrible prank on me. He-" Harry faltered, not knowing how to explain what happened to Mrs Figg without telling her of his horrible defect.
"It's quite alright dear, you need not tell me anything," She sympathised
She moved to the spot beside him.
"It'll be okay Harry, I'm sure your life will take a turn for the better soon enough,"
Harry nearly jumped up as he remembered the envelope he received just before he ran over to his neighbour's.
"Oh, I completely forgot. Thank you for your gift! It's amazing!"
She smiled. "I figure you would like it, with all of your dreams to become an astronaut,"
He smiled back at her, his mood lifting significantly. " Who wouldn't want to leave this world behind for a new one?"
"You'd be surprised,"
He nodded. He didn't see why someone wouldn't want to leave earth to explore the world beyond but he could understand that it may not be for everyone.
"Say, Harry, do giant men break down your front door often? "
"What?" Harry looked at her confused.
"Behind you,"
He whirled around and peered through the window. There was, in fact, a giant man standing in front of his house. The front door looked as though it had been kicked down and the three Dursleys stood, cowering in front of him.
"I'll be right back," He told Mrs Figg before running out the front door and across the street.
"Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon? Are you okay?"
The giant man turned around and looked down at him.
"Ah, you must be 'Arry!" He boomed "I've come to collect you to get your Hog-"
"Maybe we should speak about this inside?" Harry interrupted as Petunia glance around at all the other houses. Many eyes could be seen watching the scene through their curtains.
"Right ye are Harry. Well then, let's go inside,"
Hagrid carefully ducked through the doorway, his shaggy hair still hitting the top of it. Harry followed suit and closed the door.
He led Hagrid to the living room and sat him down on the couch, which looked like it was going to snap under his weight.
"Now, why did you come here looking for me?" Harry demanded. Was he to be used as an experiment? Were they going to put him in a zoo? Dissect him?
"I'm here to take you to get your supplies for 'ogwarts,"
Harry's anger bubbled up once more.
"Are you speaking of that prank letter I received? The one that invites me to a school of magic in the middle of the Scottish hills which, for your information, is in the middle of nowhere,"
"It's not a prank, yer a wizard 'Arry"
"Yes, and you're the queen of England"
"What do ye mean, we don't 'ave a queen. We 'ave the ministry, remember?
Harry sighed. "We most certainly have a queen Mr...?"
" 'Agrid,"
"Right, Mr Hagid, We actually do have a queen and I'm quite sure that you are not her. I believe you may be delusional and you might want to visit a mental hospital sir,"
"Yer a wizard, you can do magic!"
"There's no such thing as magic Mr Hargrid,"
"Explain this then,"
He pulled out his pink umbrella and shot a dull orange light out of it, straight at Dudley. It hit him and instantly, a pink tail sprouted from the end of his tailbone.
Harry gaped, staring at Dudley's butt.
"Still say there's no such thing as Magic 'Arry?"
Harry frowned.
"I think I may have to rethink that,"
"Well, you can think on the way to Diagon Alley,"
"Diagon Alley?"
"It's where you buy your school supplies,"
Harry's eyebrow rose.
"And I'm expected to go into the city alone, with a man I've never met in my life and expect everything to be perfectly fine?"
"Ye?"
"How do I know I'm not going to get kidnapped or sold into servitude"
'Not like I'm not already a slave' He thought, watching Hagrid carefully.
The shock on the giant's face was so genuine that Harry doubted he could've faked it.
"Kidnap you?"
"You know what," He told the man, "I've changed my mind. Let's go to Diagon Alley,"
There were no protests from Vernon and Petunia. They wouldn't particularly care if he got abducted by a strange magical man after all.
And so, Harry found himself on the tube with an 8-foot tall man named Hagrid, heading towards downtown London. He watched the grey walls speed by, fascinated by the train. It was his first time riding the tube since the Dursleys thought it beneath them.
They got off at their station and crossed the street, walking a bit before stopping in front of a dingy pub.
"You know, the first time was a joke but I'm starting to truly believe you're part of a trafficking ring," Harry commented as Hagrid led him into the pub.
"A... traffickin ring?"
Harry rolled his eyes and fell silent, wondering if all wizards were so ignorant
Many of the strange men and women in the pub greeted Hagrid. They all dressed as though they were living in the victorian era. 'Perhaps it's a... dingy cosplay pub? ' There were, of course, a few exceptions. A man at the bar wore a purple turban, although it seemed to be improperly wrapped and harry feared that it might fall off at any moment. He seemed to have just wrapped it continuously around his head, resulting in the fabric extending past his face. Should he go outside in the rain, he would not need an umbrella because he had essentially turned his head into one. It was actually a fairly impressive feat.
Harry shrugged. He knew nothing of wizards, after all, perhaps they practised different religions than muggles.
The man in the turban seemed to notice him too and his eyes immediately flicked to Harry's scar.
"P-P-Potter?"
As soon as his last name left the man's mouth, everyone in the pub turned around to stare at him. Harry cursed the fact that he had decided to let his hair grow out, eliminating his old bangs. His hair was infuriating when it was short, quite like a rat's nest and it was untameable. When the Dursley's refused to pay for him to get a haircut, he had let it grow down to his shoulders and found it to be much more manageable. He usually tied it back with a ribbon or a piece of string he found around the house and it stayed in its place. Unfortunately for him, trying to cut bangs to cover his scar would have disastrous results and he had no particular interest in looking like a little girl.
An older woman practically ran up to him with her hand extended.
"It's an honour to meet you, mister Potter, truly an honour," She told him in an awed voice. Many of the other patrons were nodding their heads and looked as though they wanted to imitate the lady.
He forced a smile onto his face.
"The pleasure is mine Madam but if you would excuse me, I need to get to Diagon Alley,"
He nearly dragged Hagrid away.
"Mister Hagrid, I don't know where I'm going so you're going to have to lead here,"
"Or, right. This way 'Arry"
He led him out to the back of the pub, where they were faced with an enclosed square of brick walls.
"My Trafficking comment still stands" Harry muttered as Hagrid moved towards the wall in front of them and tapped the bricks seemingly at random with his umbrella.
The walls slid apart, revealing a very disorienting sight. Buildings jutted out from the ground at all angles and seemed generally structurally unsound. Signs advertising different shops floated like giant balloons over top of the alley. Men, women and children dressed similarly to the people in the pub strolled down the strangely narrow alley, holding cauldrons and books.
Unearthly scents wafted to his nose from the various magical restaurants and shops.
"Wow," He said, eyeing the buildings warily.
"Do you have your list then 'arry?"
"My list?"
"It was in your Hogwarts letter,"
"Ah...well..." He couldn't quite find the words to tell Hagrid that he crumpled his letter up and threw it into a cupboard.
Hagrid's face scrunched up. "You forgot it?" He guessed.
"Yes," Harry admitted, taking an unconscious step back
"I think I've got a spare somewhere"
He shoved his giant hands into his equally large pockets and searched for something. He pulled out a severely wrinkled piece of paper and handed it to Harry.
"Here ye go lad,"
Harry took the paper from Hagrid's hand and as he gripped it, something silver fell out from indie it. Harry bent down and picked it up, turning it over in his hands.
"Er... Mr Hagrid?"
"Yes 'arry?"
"You dropped this," He handed over the key.
"Ah, yer vault key. Very important,"
"Vault as in bank vault?"
"Exactly like that,"
Harry's brow wrinkled and he followed Hagrid as the larger man started to make his way farther down the alley.
"But sir... I don't have any money. Why would I have a bank vault?"
"Wherever did ye get that idea? Your parents left you the entire Potter fortune,"
"My parents were drunks. They left me nothing other than my scar," He gestured at his forehead vaguely and Hagrid looked horrified.
"Drunks? Yer parents weren't no drunks. They were good, upstanding and powerful people,"
"How exactly did they die then?"
"How did they die?" Hagrid looked flabbergasted at the question. "You mean Petunia never told you?"
"No, Aunt Petunia and my mother were not particularly close. I figure she probably didn't know,"
"She most definitely did, we explained everything in the note,"
Harry refrained from question Hagrid on 'the note' and 'we explained'. Instead, he questioned about his parents' death.
"How did they die Hagrid?"
"They were murdered by a powerful dark wizard... He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named,"
Harry frowned.
"That's a strange name for a wizard supervillain,"
"No one says his real name. 'fraid it might bring him back,"
"He died?"
"He did. And you 'Arry, were the one who killed him. That's how you got that scar o yours,"
"I killed a powerful adult man as an infant?"
"Aye,"
Harry shook his head. That would explain the Leaky cauldron but Hagrid must've been exaggerating there was no way a one-year-old could beat the evil conqueror of the wizarding world.
They stopped in front of a marble bank.
"Here we are, Gringotts bank,"
Hagrid pulled Harry inside and they lined up in the designated spot. Soon enough, a till opened and the pair stepped up to it. A small man with wrinkly skin and an odd complexion looked down on them.
"Harry Potter wants to visit his vault," Harry's older companion told the small man.
"And does Mister Potter have his vault key?"
Hagrid fished out the brass key and dropped it into the small man's waiting hand. He looked it over before handing it back to him and calling over another goblin.
"Griphook will take you to your vault,"
"Oh, hold on, Dumbledore sent me to retrieve the... you know what in the vault... you know which,"
He handed over a slip of paper and the goblin nodded after reading it over.
The goblin turned to Griphook.
"Take them to vaults 713 and 687"
Griphook cast a contempt filled glance at Harry and Hagrid before turning on his heel.
"Follow me,"
The pair scurried after him until they got to a medium minecart.
"Get in"
They quickly obeyed and as soon as they climbed into the cart, it started rolling away. The ride was rickety and panic-inducing. The cart had obviously not been built to transport people as large and heavy as Hagrid and it did not seem like it could hold itself together for much longer. luckily, they quickly stopped at their first stop. Harry stayed in the cart while Hagrid climbed out.
He craned his neck to watch the goblin open up the vault, expecting to see piles of gold and silver and jewels. Instead, it was completely empty bar one oval, wrapped in cloth. Hagrid picked it up, shoved it into his pocket (Those things seemed to be endless), and returned to the cart. Harry winced when he heard cracking sounds but said nothing.
They continued down the track for only a minute before stopping again. This time, everyone exited the cart. They stood in front of his vault and the small man slid the key right into the door. The key turned on its own and the vault door swung open. The inside of his vault perfectly fit his idea of a wizarding bank vault. Though there was an absence of jewellery, he had gold, silver and bronze coins in spades.
The goblin wordlessly handed him a dark red velvet bag. He took the hint and hunched over, scooping piles of coins into his bag. He seriously underestimated the size of the bag and when he thought that he had filled the whole thing, he peered into the bag and saw that only a third of the bag had been filled. He glowered at the space then started scooping faster and with bigger armfuls. It took him a good minute but he eventually managed to fill the entire bag.
Once it was full, Harry eyed the bag warily, contemplating how to drag it over to the cart. Trying to test out its weight, he gave it a hard tug. The bag, which was light as a feather, went flying over his head and smacked against a wall before falling into a pile of coins. He wasn't too sure how to feel about that. On one hand, magic was bloody awesome. On the other, he now had to crawl over piles of cold metal to get to his bag.
It took Harry a few minutes to retrieve his bag. He joined Hagrid and Griphook back in the cat and they started their ascension. It took them longer to return to the main level. By the time they arrived, Harry was counting down the seconds until the cart imploded on them. He scrambled out as quickly as he could and waited in the well-lit bank as Hagrid lumbered slowly towards him.
Once they were outside, Harry asked the question that had been burning inside of him since he caught sight of the first small man.
"Hagrid... what exactly was Griphook?"
Hagrid looked startled.
"Why, a Goblin o' course,"
Harry hummed in acknowledgement. He didn't think he would be able to take in any new information with all the shocks he was getting today. And then he caught sight of a cute second-hand bookstore and his mind felt absolutely perfect for absorbing information.
"Hagrid, can we go in there first?" He asked excitedly.
"Yer books are going to be heavy 'Arry. It would be better to stop by the Apothecary, Olivander's and Madam Malkin's before getting any books,"
Harry nodded. It was true that books could be heavy and getting the lighter things first was a sound plan. He shot one last longing look at the bookstore before telling Hagrid to lead the way to their first stop.
Their first stop, the apothecary was a calming place. Sunlight shone through windows, skillfully avoiding any Ingredients that sat on the shelves. He let Hagrid do the talking and opted to simply look around. The atmosphere made him feel like he was standing in a castle tower in the early hours of the day.
They walked out with a standard potions kit, including a real-life cauldron. Next, they stopped at Madam Malkin's robe shop. Hagrid was too large to fit through the doorway so Harry had to run that errand by himself while his Giant companion waited outside. It was jarring to stand with your arms out on either side for an attendant to measure you. Even worse, an obnoxious blonde was trying to chat him up as well. Many of the things that came out of the small boy's mouth Harry didn't understand but it all sounded distinctly racist. He got away from child bigot as fast as he could when the attendant handed him his robes, tired of nodding and making noncommital sounds.
He spotted Hagrid easily in the sea of people and made his way over. The man was now carrying a cage containing a beautiful snowy owl.
" 'Appy birthday 'Arry!" He exclaimed, handing the cage over to him.
Harry smiled softly. For all his doubts about the man, he was very nice. He had no obligation as a staff member to buy him a gift and yet he did.
"Thank you very much, Hagrid,"
Hagrid rubbed his beard a bit and nodded before grabbing the arm of Harry's terribly oversized shirt.
"Now, to yer favourite stop"
The bookstore where they bought Harry's schoolbooks was not the same store he had been eyeing earlier but books were books and he was glad to be surrounded by knowledge. After picking up his school textbooks, he browsed other popular books. He bemusedly bought his own biography as well as a book titled witchcraft through the ages, detailing everything from contact with muggles to types of magic to magical tools.
After his stop at the book store, they had only one more place to visit before they could head home.
A bell chimed from somewhere in Olivander's wand shop when Harry and Hagrid walked in. There was no one behind the counter and with a cursory glance around, Harry confirmed that no one was in the front of the shop.
"Mr Ollivander?"
"That would be me, young man." A voice said softly from behind him. "How can I help you,"
Harry whirled around to find a short, elderly man standing behind him. His silver hair stuck out at all angles, even more than Harry's own. He pulled off the Albert Einstein look surprisingly well.
"I'm here to get my wand,"
"Of course Mister Potter, let's get started,"
Harry didn't even bother asking how the man knew his name. He just followed him towards the counter and waited while he retrieved a stack of long boxes. He brought back the pile, set it down and started pulling long, polished wands out of them.
"Cedar, 13 inches. Unicorn hair core"
He handed it to Harry and looked at him expectantly.
"Go on, give it a wave,"
A single wave caused every piece of ceramic and glass in the store to shatter.
"Definitely not that one,"
He put the wand back into its box carefully and set it aside, then handed Harry another wand. This one caused equally disastrous results when it was waved.
They continued like that for nearly fifteen minutes before Olivander's rubbed his chin pensively, seemingly at a loss.
"Maybe..." He trailed off and plucked a wand box from the top of the shelves behind him.
"Holy, 11 inches. Pheonix feather core"
As Harry gripped the wand, he somehow knew this was the one. It felt right in his hands, buzzed with energy that the others didn't have. He waved it and a few notes of the melodic trill of a phoenix song rang through the air.
"Curious, very curious,"
"If you don't mind me asking, sir, what is curious?"
"It is curious that that wand is destined for you when its brother is the one that gave you that scar,"
"Brother?"
Olivander's face contorted into a strange type of smile.
"Curious one aren't you? No matter, brother wands are wands whose cores come from the same animal. They are, as you can imagine, not exceedingly rare but the phoenix that gave the feather for your wand only ever gave two," He explained.
Harry nodded in understanding.
"Thank you very much Mr Olivander. How much for the wand?"
"7 galleons,"
Harry pulled the coins out of his pouch of deceit and placed them on the counter.
"Goodbye Mister Olivander!" He exclaimed before walking out of the shop.
As he returned all the boxes to their proper spots, Ollivander shook his head. Harry Potter was certainly a strange boy.
Hagrid brought Harry home the same way they got to Diagon Alley. He left him on his doorstep, with a train ticket and instructions on when to be a King's Cross Station on September first.
His good mood, however, was quickly spoiled as he walked through the door. His uncle was sitting on the sofa, red as a tomato.
"So you think you get to go to a fancy freak school do you?" He snarled, standing when Harry walked in. "Not when you're living under my roof you're not. You aren't going to some Scottish castle to learn how to wave a bloody stick. I will not allow it,"
Harry stepped back out the front door, trying to put space between him and Vernon.
"You're going to throw out all those freakish supplies and your new freakish clothes. And you're going to forget today ever happened." Vernon continued to advance and Harry nearly tripped over the curb trying to get away.
"You don't get to go to school with the normal boys so I'll be damned if you go somewhere that they encourage freakishness," He was in the front lawn now, barefoot and wearing an old t-shirt.
"Magic isn't real boy. You're just a freak with a birth defect,"
Harry's back hit Mrs Figg's door. "No no no no no " he muttered as Vernon got closer and closer.
Suddenly the door behind him opened and he fell onto Mrs Figg's strange orange rug.
"Are you alright Harry?" She asked, glancing between him and his uncle.
"Peachy," he muttered from her floor.
Assessing the situation, she turned back to Harry's uncle.
"I was working on my garden the other day you know, Vernon," She said, causing his shoulders to droop in defeat and annoyance. "And I know your nephew here is a mighty fine gardener. I was wondering if you could lend him to me for the rest of the summer before he goes back to school,"
Vernon looked at her dubiously.
"I'll feed him of course. He can even sleep here. I just need an extra hand out back,"
As Vernon realised what she was saying, his expression lightened up a bit. It was clear in his eyes that getting rid of Harry for the rest of the summer would be amazing and the opportunity was one too great to pass up.
"Of course Arabella. I've no problem with it,"
"Wonderful. And Harry, get up off the floor please,"
Harry flushed from his spot on the carpet and pulled himself up.
"Go and retrieve your things quickly so that you may start in the garden,"
He nodded and ran to get his things while Mrs Figg engaged Vernon in conversation.
He shoved everything that he had in the cupboard in a tattered tote before rushing back to Mrs Figg's house.
She smiled when she saw him, said goodbye to Vernon and rushed him into her house.
"You can take the same room you slept in during our last sleepover,"
He nodded and brought his tote and his school supplies up the stairs to the spare room.
She glanced at the cauldron he had left by the front door and sighed. Albus had told her not to interfere, not to let him know of her connection to the wizarding world but in her moment of terror induced weakness, she might as well have done just that. He would know the truth soon, sooner than they thought.
***